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Romeo is a DEAD MAN (2026, Grasshopper Manufacture)

i've been waiting for a new GHM game for aeons and this is it! i can't wait for 2026!

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ROMEO IS A DEADMAN GRASSHOPPER MANUFACTURE COMING 2026

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samsara

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Get his ass

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Flower, Sun and Rain (Grasshopper Manufacture - DS - 2008/2009)

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“Yelena, I threw up”

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“Under The Tree” by SiM is the song I use to describe the Bob/Sentry & Yelena ship

Give the song a listen

Credit: CCBuckwheat

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i love bob so much

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perfection

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I want to talk about Bob.

I want to talk about Bob and how fandom treats characters with mental illnesses, because I’m already seeing this shit.

Spoilers below the cut.

His arc is so good, and yet some people are really just focusing on making him into “UwU babygirl” material. I know, this is tumblr, home of the babygirlified characters.

But there’s heavier context here. We’re talking about someone who survived an abusive childhood and overcame the addiction he used to self-medicate for a wildly unrepresented/stigmatized illness.

His memory loss is not cute. It’s traumatic. He’s traumatized.

Yes, it’s important that he absolutely can be seen as a love interest, as a favorite blorbo, as a comfort character. In fact, I think he will be for many people with mental illnesses. His story resonates.

But there’s a systemic, historic pattern of treating mentally ill folks as children, or incapable.

The situation with Valentina is a metaphor for conservatorship. She handles him, makes decisions for him, all while talking down to him.

Don’t let fandom do that to him, too.

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oomf spitting fax

Zenless Zone Zero.

This is the third game to come out of post-2020 Hoyoverse.

This game spent a lot of time being teased and marketed before it's release. With me, a game to really grab my attention is character design. This company already puts out solid stuff, but it's the aesthetic that doesn't get me. Star Rail and Genshin Impact's detailed lean into fantasy, while executed well, doesn't really get me.

You're put in the shoes of two siblings, Wise and Belle, on their journey to uncover what happened in the past, and clear a loved one's name. That's so freaking cool! They're even doing illegal shit on the down-low! That's so freaking cool!

Then comes along ZZZ. It's setting allowed for more of a grindfiction (i hope i used that word right) look. I saw people describing this as Jet Set Genshin Impact, hilariously.

For one, this game's character designs are top notch. They're not quite as busy as the previous two games I mentioned. They're fun and relatively simple. Clean color schemes, big shapes, differing species and unique silhouettes can be found across the roster. (Still no black people though. At this point, I shouldn't expect it.)

Continuing on with the characters, like any gacha game, they're the stars of the show. The team puts special care into each of them.

There's a serious sense of community between a large chunk of the cast. Everybody knows somebody, somehow. Either through a shared interest, a job together, school, or childhood. Everybody's got their own thing going on, and the writers show each of them the love they deserve. Thanks to this, it is very exciting to see two characters we know well meet for the first time.

While having their own presence in the world and lore, they can also be the main character of an update, out of the blue. Either through the main story, a special episode, an event, or an agent story. What's an agent story? An agent story is a story made for that specific character. They're usually released by the update. Everything that happens within them are canon, and they flesh out the character to a satisfying degree. (most of the time.) characters grow from the point that they were before the agent story, like Anby wearing her silver squad uniform in the most recent story chapter.

So what's this one about? Surprising most people today, this is a post apocalyptic story. This takes place in a earth where 90% of humanity has been wiped out by a mysterious force that produces monsters. A majority of the game takes place in New Eridu.

The more you read into the story, the more you learn this event's effect on society, and the drastic measures that have been taken because of it. Through the lenses of two siblings, you learn that It's everywhere. In the storytelling, in the characters, and in the environment.

ZZZ's gameplay is modeled after action games. Fast paced, flashy and exciting. You can tell that the developers grew up on titles like Tekken, Street Fighter, DMC and so on There's an attack button, a special button, a dodge button, and an ultimate button. Each character has their own passive system that can be activated through any of these buttons, keeping gameplay unique. Some of them aren't even activated by these buttons, they just work in the back!

There's a lot of things the player can do to maximize unit performance. W-Engines, disks, stat watching... It's pretty well made actually. It's just that in my case, it makes my head spin. Much to both my friends & followers's dismay. Luckily i have them to help me out with the number crunching and basic common sense.

My favorite bit from it is the parry animation. Special care was put into it. A cool camera angle, satisfying sound, and an exciting visual makes for an awesome experience. There is so much love put into this game.

Now that we have that out of the way, presentation. For me, it's the best part of the game. ZZZ takes a specific kind of care in its worldbuilding, aesthetic and character design that rivals Splatoon, actually. From the marketing, to the animation, to the options menu, there’s style to be found all around. Story beats are presented with AAA artwork in the style of an animated comic book. Casual conversations have a stylish transition to another screen where every character has their own animation. Character trailers are AAA productions in the style of... well, anything. They can, and will do anything. I see it as a celebration of creativity and art. There's a lot of professionals out there working in positions that don't let them to get this radical with what they're working on. I'd imagine any creative would enjoy working on a product like this.

Speaking of art, one thing i really like is when hand-drawn art is heavily incorporated in a videogame. ZZZ does this so well. I think my favorite example of this is the mindscape cinema. This works in stages, a piece of art of the character fully clothed. As the player whales out and rolls for more versions of the unit, a greyscale version of that art will be revealed to the player, more and more. Then, a final version of the character missing some articles of clothing is revealed. With how this game goes about suggestive content, you'd expect this to be crazy, but they're actually pretty tact about it. Regardless, it's a really cool display.

Zenless Zone Zero is one of the strongest titles to ever hit the scene for me. From the art direction, to the art itself, to the presentation, to the look, to the art, to the world, to the music, to the characters... I could keep going. Whereas I'm not too good at the game, i get my fun out of it by being lost in the world, the stories told within it, and the characters this story is about.

With a dev team that seems somewhat different from what hoyoverse is given trouble for... I hope more people play this game. It's a serious gem. I'm having so much fun with this game. And i can tell these guys are having just as much fun making it. Maybe even more.

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finally, i managed to put ch1 out... was busy so sorry for the inconvenience! i'll post character profiles after ch2!

return

It's just so tiring.

I've been glued to this computer for roughly four hours. Lieutenant Prost insisted that I finish these reports immediately... how ironic. Five of them require nearly identical information. It's moments like these that make me question my decision to become a detective. My typing grows more fervent as I strive to complete them before midnight, but my mind is reaching its limit.

As I continue typing, my little robotic companion, Papillon, rests in my lap, her tiny frame straining to see the screen. Her minty green bob frames her face as she turns to look at me, her adorable LED screen displaying a pair of dot-like eyes. I've dressed her in her favorite sailor outfit—all white with teal accents. Though she looks like a baby, I designed her with impressive technological features, including an efficient analysis module and general assistance capabilities. Papillon hums contentedly, kicking her feet and clearly enjoying her place by my side.

"Master, how long will you take?" she asks with childlike glee. "It's been very, very long. You must be tired."

I sigh, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms. "I'm not sure, Papillon. These reports are taking longer than I expected." I glance at the clock, its digital display mocking me with its relentless march forward. "But I can't stop now. Lieutenant Prost will have my head if these aren't on her desk first thing tomorrow."

Papillon whimpers softly, clearly distressed by my words.

"She's... she's going to cut your head off?!" she shrieks, hugging me tightly.

I can't help but chuckle at Papillon's misunderstanding, her innocent concern warming my heart despite my exhaustion. "No, no, it's just a figure of speech," I explain gently, patting her head. "Lieutenant Prost won't actually hurt me. She'll just be very upset if I don't finish these reports on time." Turning back to my computer screen with renewed determination, I add, "Come on, let's power through these last few. We might even finish before the pre-race conference starts. Veritas Racing will be there."

Papillon's eyes light up at the mention of the race, her excitement palpable. "Ooh, Veritas Racing! They're so fast!" she chirps, her little feet kicking with enthusiasm. I smile, her energy infectious despite my fatigue, and turn back to my work with renewed vigor.

"And… Han-sol's going to be there, too. As always." I sigh, feeling pensive about my childhood friend, Han-sol Ahn. We drifted apart for various reasons, but I blame myself for how I treated him after losing my mother—the famed gunsmith known as the Golden Bullet, Lucina Graczyk. I even left without saying goodbye, shattering our childhood bond. He won't forgive me. I'm certain of it.

As I contemplate the upcoming race and the inevitable encounter with Han-sol, a mixture of anticipation and dread settles in my stomach. Despite the years that have passed, the weight of our unresolved history still hangs heavy between us. I wonder if there will ever be a chance to mend what was broken, or if the chasm between us has grown too wide to bridge.

“Papillon, we'll just watch on TV. Okay?” I try to convince her.

Papillon's eyes dim slightly, her excitement dampened by my words. She looks up at me with a mixture of concern and disappointment. "But Master, wouldn't it be more fun to go in person? We could see the cars up close and feel the excitement of the crowd!"

"Papillon, I... I can't," I say softly, not wanting to discourage her. "I don't want to face him. I just can't."

Papillon's eyes dim further, her expression shifting to one of understanding and concern. She nestles closer to me, her tiny frame providing a comforting warmth. "I understand, Master," she says softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and support. "We can watch from here and still cheer for Veritas Racing together."

Her words, though meant to comfort, only serve to deepen the ache in my chest. I know she's right, that we can still enjoy the race from the safety of our home, but a part of me longs for the thrill of being there in person. The roar of the engines, the electric atmosphere of the crowd—it's all so tempting. But the thought of facing Han-sol, of seeing the accusation and disappointment in his eyes, is enough to keep me rooted to my chair.

I sigh heavily, the weight of my past decisions pressing down on me. The reports still loom before me, demanding my attention, but my mind wanders to the race and the inevitable confrontation with Han-sol. I shake my head, trying to refocus on the task at hand. "Come on, Papillon," I mutter, more to myself than to her, "let's finish these reports and then we can watch the race together."

As I turn back to my computer, fingers poised over the keyboard, I can't help but feel a twinge of regret. The race beckons, a siren call of excitement and nostalgia, but I force myself to focus on the task at hand. With Papillon's comforting presence beside me, I take a deep breath and dive back into the reports, determined to finish them before the night is through.

The clock ticks relentlessly as I type, each keystroke bringing me closer to completion. Papillon's gentle humming provides a soothing backdrop to the monotonous task. Despite my exhaustion, I feel a glimmer of determination—perhaps, just perhaps, I'll finish in time to catch a glimpse of the race after all.

As I push through the final pages of my report, a sudden notification on my phone catches my attention. It's a reminder for the pre-race conference, starting in just thirty minutes.

"It's just a livestream. We can watch while walking home, right?" I ask Papillon, seeking her opinion.

Papillon's eyes light up, her excitement clearly visible on her LED display. She nods enthusiastically, her sailor outfit swaying with the motion. "Yes, Master! We can watch it together while we walk. Maybe it will help you relax after all that work." Her optimism is infectious, and I find myself smiling despite my earlier reservations.

I nod, feeling a small spark of excitement ignite within me. "Alright, let's do it. We'll finish up here and head out soon." I turn back to my computer, fingers flying over the keyboard with renewed energy. The thought of watching the livestream, even if it's just on my phone, gives me a sense of connection to the racing world I've been avoiding. As I work, I can't help but wonder what surprises this pre-race conference might hold.

The anticipation builds as I save the final report and shut down my computer. Gathering my things, I gesture for Papillon to hop into her usual spot in my bag. As we step out into the cool evening air, I pull out my phone and start the livestream, ready to immerse ourselves in the pre-race excitement.

I lock the police station and begin my walk back to my home in Avery Hills. As we walk, the livestream begins, and I'm immediately drawn into the familiar world of racing. The announcer's voice crackles through my phone's speakers, introducing the teams and drivers, and I find myself holding my breath as they mention Veritas Racing.

The announcer's voice brims with excitement as he introduces the Veritas Racing team, highlighting their recent achievements and stellar performance in the qualifying rounds. As I listen, a mix of pride and nostalgia washes over me. Suddenly, a familiar name makes my heart skip a beat—Han-sol Ahn, Veritas Racing's star driver. The nine-time racing champion, hailed as a prodigy since his debut a decade ago, is now aiming for his 10th trophy next week. Papillon squeals as she sees her idol.

As the camera pans to Han-sol, I can't help but stare at the screen, taking in his confident posture and determined expression. His eyes, once so familiar to me, now seem distant and focused solely on the race ahead. I feel a pang of regret, wondering what might have been if I had made different choices all those years ago.

"What's happened to him over the years?" I mutter to myself as I walk home. "He's become so stoic and silent."

The vibrant, energetic young man I once knew has been replaced by a more reserved, almost aloof figure. I can't help but wonder if the pressures of fame and constant competition have taken their toll on him. Or perhaps, a small voice in my head suggests, my departure played a role in shaping the person he's become. The interviewer swiftly moves to ask about the upcoming race, noting it's the penultimate one before the finale in Harborton. As always, Han-sol prepares to answer with practiced ease. Papillon swoons over him, cooing as he speaks.

Han-sol's voice, calm and measured, fills the air as he responds to the interviewer's questions. "We've been preparing intensively for this race," he says, his eyes focused and determined. "The team has put in countless hours to fine-tune our strategy and the car's performance. We're aiming for nothing less than victory here, to secure our position for the finale in Harborton."

"Master, isn't that your hometown?" Papillon whispers as the interviewer continues questioning Han-sol on the stream.

I nod silently, a lump forming in my throat. "Yes, it is," I reply softly, memories of Harborton flooding my mind. The thought of the finale being held there, with Han-sol racing, stirs up a complex mix of emotions. I find myself torn between the desire to see my hometown again and the fear of confronting the past I left behind.

As the livestream continues, I find myself lost in thought, contemplating the possibility of attending the finale in Harborton. The idea of seeing Han-sol race in person, in the very place where our friendship began, is both thrilling and terrifying. I wonder if I have the courage to face not only Han-sol but also the memories and regrets that await me in my hometown.

We arrive home, and I set Papillon down before turning on the TV. I change out of my uniform into nightwear, then settle next to Papillon on the couch. She sways eagerly, eyes glued to the screen as the pre-race preparations unfold. As always, her excitement to see Han-sol race is palpable.

The race commentators begin their analysis, discussing the track conditions and potential strategies for the teams. As they mention Han-sol's impressive qualifying time, I feel a mix of pride and melancholy wash over me. Papillon turns to me, her LED eyes shining with excitement, and I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm despite my conflicted emotions.

"Papillon, who do you think will win—Han-sol or Viktor Niels from Scarlet Veil?" I tease her, curious about her reaction. "My money's on Niels."

Papillon's LED eyes widen with surprise, her sailor outfit swaying as she turns to face me. "Master! How could you bet against Han-sol?" she exclaims, her voice a mix of shock and indignation. "Han-sol is the best racer in the world! He'll definitely win!"

“I was joking, Papillon.” I laugh, brushing my hair. “He'll win. I'm sure.”

I settle back into the couch, feeling a mix of nostalgia and anticipation as the pre-race coverage continues. The familiar sounds of engines revving and the excited chatter of commentators fill the room. As I watch Han-sol prepare for the race, I can't help but wonder how different things might have been if I had stayed in touch. The weight of unresolved history hangs heavy, but for now, I push those thoughts aside and focus on the present moment, ready to cheer alongside Papillon for Han-sol's victory.

As the race begins, I find myself leaning forward, caught up in the excitement despite my earlier reservations. The roar of engines fills our living room, and I can't help but feel a surge of pride as Han-sol takes the lead in the first lap. Papillon bounces excitedly beside me, her enthusiasm infectious, and for a moment, I allow myself to forget the past and simply enjoy the thrill of the race.

The commentators' voices rise with excitement as Han-sol expertly navigates a tight turn, maintaining his lead. I find myself holding my breath, my heart racing in sync with the cars on the screen. Papillon's enthusiasm is contagious, and I can't help but cheer alongside her as Han-sol crosses the finish line, securing another victory. For a brief moment, I forget about our complicated past, simply basking in the joy of his triumph.

“Yay!! Han-sol won!” The little bot jumps in joy, hugging me in the process.

I smile, feeling a warmth spread through my chest at Papillon's unbridled joy. "He certainly did," I reply, patting her gently. As the post-race interviews begin, I find myself leaning forward, eager to hear Han-sol's thoughts on his victory. Despite the years and distance between us, I can't deny the pride I feel watching him succeed.

As I check the time, it's late. The clock has struck 11pm. I might mess up my sleep. I quickly turn off the TV, much to Papillon's horror as she whines in despair.

"Alright, it's bedtime, little lady," I say softly, tidying up the living room. "Let's head to the bedroom and get you set up for charging."

Papillon reluctantly follows me to the bedroom, her LED eyes dimming slightly in disappointment. As I set up her charging station, she gives one last longing look towards the living room. "But Master, we didn't even get to see Han-sol's post-race interview," she mumbles, her voice tinged with a mixture of sleepiness and regret. I can't help but chuckle at her dedication, even as I gently guide her to her charging pad.

I smile softly, patting Papillon's head. "Don't worry, we'll catch the highlights tomorrow. Han-sol's victory is something to celebrate, but sleep is important too." As I tuck Papillon in, I can't help but feel a mix of emotions – pride for Han-sol's success, nostalgia for our shared past, and a hint of uncertainty about what the future might hold. Settling into bed myself, I close my eyes, the day's events replaying in my mind as I drift off to sleep.

As I drift into unconsciousness, a faint memory surfaces—Han-sol's voice, filled with determination, echoing from the TV. "We're not just racing for victory," he had said, "we're racing to push the boundaries of what's possible." Those words resonate within me, stirring a long-dormant passion. Perhaps, I muse sleepily, it's time to confront my past and rediscover the thrill of possibility that once drove us both.

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"Mari, why are you saying this? You're scaring me."

"You should have died, Han-sol. I should have killed you when Jinsan was consumed by me! I'll devour the stars and claim this world as my own!"

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I jolt awake with a loud gasp, my chest heaving. That haunting memory has resurfaced—the moment my vampiric self revealed itself to him after Mama's death. As I rub my face, I feel the dampness of tears. I've been crying in my sleep again.

Sitting up in bed, I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. The nightmare's vivid images linger, a stark reminder of the darkness that once consumed me. I glance over at Papillon, still peacefully charging, and feel a pang of envy at her blissful unawareness.

“It's morning…” I say, glancing at the windows.

The soft light of dawn filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. I stretch, feeling the lingering tension from my nightmare slowly dissipate. As I swing my legs over the side of the bed, I can't help but wonder how I'll face the day ahead, with memories of both Han-sol's victory and my dark past fresh in my mind.

I shake off the remnants of the nightmare and force myself to focus on the present. The day ahead holds its own challenges, but I'm determined to face them head-on. As I begin my morning routine, I can't help but wonder if watching Han-sol's race has stirred up more than just old memories—perhaps it's awakened a part of myself I've long tried to suppress.

“Papillon? Wake up.” I kneel besides her cute charging pod, waiting.

Slowly, Papillon's LED eyes flicker to life, a soft blue glow emanating from them as she boots up. She stretches her mechanical limbs, her sailor outfit rustling slightly with the movement. "Good morning, Master," she chirps, her voice still tinged with sleepiness. "Did Han-sol win again in my dreams?"

"That's something only you would know," I say with a smile, ruffling her teal hair. The little robot squeals with delight at the touch. "After all, you're Han-sol's number one fan."

Papillon's LED eyes light up even brighter at my words. "Of course I am!" she exclaims proudly, puffing out her tiny chest. "But Master, you're a close second. After all, you knew him personally!" Her innocent comment catches me off guard, stirring up a mix of emotions I thought I had buried long ago.

I hesitate for a moment, unsure how to respond. The weight of my past with Han-sol suddenly feels heavier than ever. "Yes, I did know him," I finally admit, my voice soft. "But that was a long time ago, Papillon. Things change, people change." I try to keep my tone light, but I can't help the hint of melancholy that creeps in.

Papillon tilts her head, her LED eyes dimming slightly as she processes my words. "But Master, doesn't that mean you could reconnect? Maybe watching him race again could be a chance to—" She pauses, seeming to sense my unease. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. Shall we watch the race highlights instead?"

I pause, considering Papillon's words. Her innocent suggestion stirs up a whirlwind of emotions—nostalgia, regret, and a hint of longing. "Maybe someday," I say softly, more to myself than to her. "For now, let's focus on the present. How about we watch those highlights while I make breakfast?"

Papillon nods enthusiastically, her LED eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oh yes, Master! I'd love that!" As we make our way to the kitchen, I can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The smell of coffee brewing fills the air as I prepare breakfast, my mind wandering to thoughts of Han-sol and the life I left behind in Harborton.

As I turn on the TV for Papillon, I start preparing myself a simple sandwich with lettuce, tomato, cheese, and salami, along with some sauces. While I'm assembling my meal, Papillon poses a question that shakes me to my very core.

"Master, do you ever think about going back to Harborton?" Her LED eyes flicker with curiosity as she asks, unaware of the weight her question carries. The knife in my hand pauses mid-slice, and I feel a sudden tightness in my chest. Memories of my hometown, of Han-sol, and of the life I left behind come rushing back, threatening to overwhelm me.

I take a deep breath, steadying my hand and my nerves. "Papillon," I begin, my voice softer than I intended, "Harborton is... complicated for me." I turn to face her, sandwich forgotten on the counter. "There's a lot of history there, some good, some... not so good. It's not always easy to go back to a place that holds so many memories."

"But it's your hometown, Master," Papillon says, her LED eyes dimming with concern. "Your Papa must be worried about you—" I cut her off abruptly, my body tensing at the mere mention of him.

"Papillon, that's enough," I say firmly, my voice trembling slightly. The little robot's LED eyes flicker, registering my sudden change in demeanor. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions her innocent question has stirred up. "My relationship with Papa is... complicated. Let's just focus on the race highlights for now, okay?"

"I overheard Uncle Edmond and Auntie Erin talking about him," she continues. "Your Papa... he's really lonely. And I learned that you started hating him after your Mama died. But why? He's your Papa. He cares about you."

I feel a surge of anger and pain at Papillon's words. How dare she speak about things she doesn't understand? But as I look at her innocent, concerned face, I force myself to take a deep breath. She doesn't know the whole story, I remind myself. She's just trying to help in her own way.

"Papillon," I say, my voice strained but controlled, "the situation with my father is far more complicated than you realize. There are things that happened... things you don't know about. It's not as simple as just caring or not caring."

"But Master, he's not well!" Papillon persists, her eyes glowing with determination. "He misses his only daughter terribly. And... I've heard that only Han-sol's parents are there for him now."

I feel my chest tighten at Papillon's words. The mention of Han-sol's parents caring for my father stirs up a complex mix of emotions - guilt, anger, and a deep-seated pain I've tried so hard to bury. For a moment, I'm transported back to Harborton, to the life I left behind and the wounds that have never fully healed.

"Papillon," I start, my voice barely above a whisper, "sometimes, the hardest decisions we make are the ones that hurt the most. My relationship with Papa... it's not something that can be easily fixed."

I pause, gathering my thoughts before continuing. "It's not just about caring or missing someone. There are wounds, deep ones, that time alone can't heal. And sometimes, distance is the only way to protect yourself and others." I turn back to the counter, picking up my abandoned sandwich. "Let's watch those highlights now, okay? I think we both need a distraction."

"You said many hurtful things to him," Papillon continues, her words stopping me in my tracks. "Uncle Edmond mentioned you called him something terrible because of his vampirism—something you never wanted for yourself."

I feel a wave of shame and regret wash over me as Papillon's words hit home. The memory of that heated argument with Papa resurfaces, and I can almost hear the echo of my own harsh words. I had lashed out at him, calling him a "bloodsucker" and a "monster," terms that now feel like daggers in my own heart.

"Master, is this why you moved here right after your Mama died when you were young?" Papillon's innocent persistence was beginning to grate on my nerves.

I feel my patience wearing thin, the weight of Papillon's questions becoming too much to bear. With a deep breath, I try to steady myself, but the emotions bubbling beneath the surface threaten to spill over. "Papillon," I say, my voice strained, "I think that's enough questions for now. Some things are better left in the past." I turn away, hoping to end this conversation before it dredges up any more painful memories.

But as I turn, I catch a glimpse of Papillon's LED eyes dimming with sadness, and I feel a pang of guilt. I know she's only trying to understand, to help in her own way. With a sigh, I soften my tone. "I'm sorry, Papillon. It's just... it's complicated. Maybe one day I'll be ready to talk about it, but for now, let's focus on the present, okay?"

Papillon nods, her LED eyes brightening slightly. "I understand, Master. Let's watch the race highlights together." As we settle in front of the TV, I can't help but feel a mix of relief and lingering unease. The familiar sound of revving engines fills the room, momentarily drowning out the echoes of my past.

Hours later, we're back in our office, sorting through files. Papillon radiates energy, still buzzing from last night's race. She hums contentedly to herself, her joy palpable in the air.

As I watch her, I can't help but feel a twinge of envy at her carefree demeanor. The weight of my past still lingers, a stark contrast to Papillon's unbridled enthusiasm. I shake off the melancholy, reminding myself to focus on the present and the tasks at hand.

The constant hum of activity in the office provides a welcome distraction from my earlier thoughts. I immerse myself in the files before me, methodically organizing and analyzing each one. As I work, I can't help but marvel at Papillon's unwavering enthusiasm—a stark reminder of the simple joys I once took for granted.

As I continue to work, a sudden realization strikes me. Despite the complexities of my past and the weight of unresolved emotions, there's a certain peace in the routine of my current life. The methodical nature of my work, coupled with Papillon's unwavering positivity, provides a balance I hadn't fully appreciated before. Perhaps, I muse, there's a lesson to be learned from my robotic companion's ability to find joy in the present moment.

Suddenly, my phone rings, displaying an unknown number. Papillon glances at me eagerly, curious about the caller's identity.

I hesitate for a moment, my finger hovering over the screen. The unknown number could be anyone—a new client, an old acquaintance, or perhaps... someone from my past. With a deep breath, I answer the call, my voice steady despite the sudden flutter of nerves in my stomach. "Hello, this is Detective Marian Graczyk speaking."

And all I hear is that familiar gruff voice that I have dreaded to hear after 20 years.

"Marian, my dear daughter..." Papa's voice trembles slightly, a mixture of relief and apprehension evident in his tone. "It's been so long. I... I hope I'm not disturbing you." The familiar cadence of his speech, tinged with the accent of our hometown, sends a shiver down my spine. I grip the phone tighter, my mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions I thought I had long since buried.

For a moment, I'm frozen, unable to form words. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions and years of distance. Finally, I find my voice, though it comes out barely above a whisper. "Papa... I... How did you get this number?" The question hangs in the air, laden with the weight of our shared history and the chasm that has grown between us. Papillon looks excited, however, tugging my leg to let her hear him.

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and I can almost picture Papa's face, his brow furrowed in concern. "Edmond... he gave it to me," he admits softly. "I know I shouldn't have—" I cut him off, a mix of anger and hurt bubbling up inside me. "You're right, you shouldn't have," I say, my voice sharper than I intended. Papillon's excited tugging becomes more insistent, her LED eyes flickering with curiosity.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within me. Papa's voice, so familiar yet so distant, brings back a flood of memories—both good and bad. Papillon's insistent tugging at my leg reminds me of her presence, and I find myself torn between my desire to hang up and a strange, unexpected longing to hear more. "Papa," I begin, my voice softer now, "why are you calling after all this time?"

A heavy silence hangs on the line, punctuated only by Papa's labored breathing. When he finally speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. "Marian, I... I just miss my sweet girl." He pauses, and I feel my heart constrict despite myself. "I've been wondering how you were, and... I didn't want to bother your uncle for information about you. I just wanted to find out for myself."

His words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of years of silence and unspoken regrets. I feel a lump forming in my throat, a mix of anger and longing threatening to overwhelm me. Papillon's insistent tugging at my leg reminds me of her presence, grounding me in the present moment. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice before I respond.

"Papa," I begin, my voice wavering slightly, "I... I don't know what to say." I pause, feeling the weight of two decades of silence pressing down on me. "It's been so long, and things are... different now." I glance down at Papillon, her LED eyes shining with anticipation, and feel a pang of guilt for the harsh words I'd spoken about my father earlier.

I hesitate, torn between my lingering resentment and a sudden, unexpected desire to bridge the gap between us. "I... I'm doing alright, Papa," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Life here is... different, but it's good." I pause, feeling the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. "How... how are you doing?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and I can hear Papa take a deep breath before answering. "I'm... managing," he says, his voice tinged with a mixture of weariness and hope. "The detective agency isn't in the best of shape, but I'm fine, sweetie." His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions and years of separation.

I feel a pang of concern at his words. The detective agency has been Papa's life's work, and hearing it's struggling tugs at something deep inside me. Despite our estrangement, a part of me still cares. "Papa," I begin hesitantly, "is there... is there anything I can do to help?" The words surprise me as they leave my mouth, but I realize I mean them. “I… I work in that department in the station.” Papillon's LED eyes glow brighter, as if approving of my unexpected offer.

There's a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line. When Papa finally speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. "Marian, I... I don't know what to say. That means more to me than you can imagine." He pauses, and I can almost hear the struggle in his voice. "But I couldn't ask that of you, not after... everything. I'll find a way to manage."

His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion. I feel a mix of conflicting feelings - concern for Papa and the agency, guilt over our estrangement, and a lingering hesitation born from old wounds. But as I look down at Papillon, her LED eyes glowing with encouragement, I make a decision.

"Papa," I say, my voice soft but firm, "let me think about it. Maybe... maybe we can figure something out together, right?" I pause, surprised by my own words, but feeling a small sense of relief at having said them. “Do you have enough people there besides you and Mr. Ahn?”

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and I can almost hear Papa's hesitation. "We've... we've been struggling to keep up with the workload," he admits reluctantly. "It's just me and Mr. Ahn now, and we're not as young as we used to be." His words are tinged with a mix of pride and weariness, and I feel a sudden pang of guilt.

I take a deep breath, trying to process this information. The image of Papa and Mr. Ahn, two pillars of my childhood, struggling to keep the agency afloat tugs at my heart. Despite our past, I can't help but feel a sense of responsibility. "Papa," I say softly, "I... I think we should talk more about this. Maybe I can help, even if it's just advice or... or something small to start with."

"Sweetheart, I... Can you come back home?" His words silence me, melting my heart. "Please. I can't bear being alone without Lucina and you." His thick, gruff Poskaycan accent quivers with emotion, nearly driven to tears as he pleads for my return.

His words hit me like a tidal wave, washing away years of built-up resentment and anger. I feel my resolve crumbling, torn between the life I've built here and the pull of home, of family. "Papa," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion, "I... I need some time to think about this. It's a big decision." I pause, feeling the weight of the moment. "But I promise, I'll consider it seriously."

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts. The prospect of returning home, of facing the past I've tried so hard to leave behind, is both terrifying and oddly tempting. "Papa," I say softly, "I'll call you back in a few days. I need some time to process all of this." As I end the call, I turn to Papillon, her LED eyes glowing with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

As I sit there, staring at my phone, a whirlwind of emotions swirls within me. The prospect of returning home, of facing the past I've tried so hard to leave behind, is both terrifying and oddly tempting. Papillon's gentle nudge against my leg brings me back to the present, her LED eyes seeming to ask, "What will you do now, Master?"

I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. The weight of this decision feels monumental, like it could reshape my entire future. Part of me longs for the familiarity of home, the chance to reconnect with Papa and help save the agency that was such a big part of my childhood. But another part hesitates, remembering the reasons I left in the first place.

I look down at Papillon, her unwavering support a constant in my life here. "What do you think, girl?" I ask softly, knowing she can't truly answer but finding comfort in her presence nonetheless. "Should we pack our bags and head back to Harborton?"

As I contemplate this life-altering decision, Papillon's LED eyes flicker with what seems like understanding. She gently nuzzles my hand, as if to say, "I'm with you, no matter what you choose." Her unwavering support fills me with a sense of calm, helping to quiet the storm of emotions raging within me.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come. The decision weighs heavily on my shoulders, but I know I can't avoid it forever. With a mixture of trepidation and resolve, I begin to consider my options, knowing that whatever choice I make will undoubtedly change the course of my life.

As I sit here, contemplating the weight of this decision, I can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The prospect of returning to Harborton, of facing my past and potentially rebuilding my relationship with Papa, is both exhilarating and terrifying. Yet, as I look at Papillon, her unwavering support evident in her glowing LED eyes, I realize that perhaps this is the opportunity I've been unknowingly waiting for – a chance to reconcile my past with my present and shape a future that honors both.

With a deep breath, I turn to Papillon and say, "Well, girl, it looks like we might be in for quite an adventure." Her LED eyes blink in response, seeming to mirror my own mix of excitement and apprehension. As I begin to mentally prepare for the potential journey ahead, I can't help but wonder what challenges and opportunities await us back in Harborton.

[seagull-aaaahhhh]

Hello, sorry if you've gotten this question before but do you have any tips for writing a scene in which a character gets drunk? Since I can't drink, I feel that my scenes sound like a teenager wrote them. Are there any behaviors/dialogue quirks to avoid so it doesn't sound inauthentic?

How to Write A Drunk Character (For People Who Can't/Prefer Not To Drink)

Drinking is a social activity that a lot of people love to partake in, and although drinking is often associated with rambunctious behavior now a days, "sharing a drink" with your friends is one of the oldest forms of companionship in history.

Having your characters get drunk together can not only be a spot of humor in an otherwise serious story, but also can be a way to build relationships and bond; after all, when they're drunk there is an element of trust they need to have in the people around them, in order to make sure they'll look out for them/won't do anything bad while they're in an incapacitated state.

However, if you haven't experienced it yourself--for whatever reason--it may be difficult to write how a character acts when they've had a bit too much to drink.

Here are some general tips on how to write a drunk character.

1. How much does it take?

One thing that is a dead giveaway that an author has never drank or gotten drunk is when a character starts to feel the effects of alcohol after one sip. For most people, that doesn't happen.

How fast a character gets drunk depends on a few factors:

Size (height, weight)

If they're used to drinking a lot

The type of drink being consumed

How fast they drink in a short period

If they've eaten recently

A character who is 6'5" and 250lbs who drinks like a horse every night is going to get drunk a lot slower than a 4'11" character who's 100lbs soaking wet and has never touched an alcoholic beverage before.

If someone gets drunk easily, they're called a "lightweight," however, someone can shed their lightweight status with practice (i.e. drinking regularly). The faster they drink, the drunker they'll get, and if they're on an empty stomach, it'll hit them a lot harder.

You also have to be aware of the kind of drink they’re consuming, and the alcohol percentage of each one; the higher the percentage, the faster it’ll get them drunk. Here are some percentages of Alcohol By Volume according to Sunrise House Treatment Center.

Vodka | ABV: 40-95%

Tequila | ABV: 50-51%

Gin | ABV: 36-50%

Rum | ABV: 36-50%

Whiskey | ABV: 36-50%

Fortified Wine | ABV: 16-24%

Unfortified Wine | ABV: 14-16%

Liqueurs | ABV: 15%

Malt Beverage | ABV: 15%

Beer | ABV: 4-8%

As you can see, liquors (which are grain-based alcohols), are some of the heaviest hitters here. They're usually taken as shots (vodka, whiskey, and tequila especially), which is also a reason why they're the main perpetrators of drunkenness; not only are they strong, but they're also taken quickly.

If your character isn't a fan of shots, they can cut their drink with something else to create a mixer, such as lemonade, seltzer, or even water.

Note: The only TRUE way for your character to sober up is with time. Cold showers and other remedies may help the side effects, but the levels in their blood will not wane until it fully goes through their system.

2. How Does It Feel?

There are a few stages to drunkenness that fluctuate throughout the night as your character is drinking.

Stage 1: Sober

Your character has had nothing or only a little to drink. They are still sharp, alert, and acting normally.

Stage 2: Tipsy

Tipsy characters are still alert and can hold conversation, basically sober people but a bit "looser." They may have had a glass of wine/a shot or two and are now starting to feel the effects of the alcohol in their system.

Tipsy is the tip of the iceberg, and here are some characteristics of being tipsy that many people exhibit while they're drinking:

More talkative, conversation comes easier

Cognitive thought processes are slowed

Shorter attention span/easier to space out

Decision-making skills are less refined (more likely to take risks, "voice of reason" is quieter)

Short-term memory is poorer

Walking may come with a some difficulty, as there's a slight head rush and bodily orientation is a little thrown off (kind of like the full-body version of "you're now blinking manually"), but there isn't usually a high risk of falling or stumbling.

Overall, a tipsy person could hold their all in a public setting, albeit with some struggle.

Stage 3: Drunk

Once your characters have teetered off the ledge of "tipsy" and into "drunk," there come some changes to their demeanor. For some, their entire personality changes when they're drunk (which will be discussed later).

On top of this, many people exhibit bodily changes such as:

Drowsiness

Loss of coordination/balance issues

Blurry/tunneled/unfocused vision

Struggle to make proper judgements

Attention deficit, struggling to focus

Struggle to remember things, and not just short-term

Mood swings; many drunk folks are easily excited or saddened, and can be set off at the smallest things.

Needing to pee (A first pee of the night is called "breaking the seal," as once your character breaks the seal, they will have to consistently pee after that)

Stumbling, unable to walk in a straight line.

Drunk characters can still act independently but should be accompanied by friends to make sure they don't do anything stupid. Drunkenness is sometimes described as puppeteering your body from the outside. Things slip and slide through your thoughts, unable to grab a hold and process one, and this can be exacerbated by flashing lights and loud music.

You still think, sure, but it's not cohesive or comprehensive. Your characters' thoughts will be more stimuli-driven than reason/contemplation-driven. This is why a drunk character cannot be trusted to make concrete decisions.

Stage 4: Blackout

If a character is blackout drunk, that means they've really surpassed their limit. Most of the time, blackout drunk people cannot function on their own, and must need assistance from their sober friends or their less-drunk companions.

The reason blackout drunk is called that is primarily because a character will not remember what happened the next day. In the moment they are thinking and talking (albeit in a limited scope), but when they finally sober up they will have no recollection of what they did or said.

Some symptoms of being blackout drunk include:

Confusion. A character may not know where they are or who they're with.

Exhaustion, at a high risk of passing out.

Needing assistance to stand or walk, or walking with severe staggering.

Horrible short and long-term memory

Slurred speech (although you may want to avoid writing out people slurring their words and instead use "s/he slurred" or some other indicator to make sure it's legible)

Vomiting

A blackout drunk character may put themselves in risky situations without knowing it, which is why they should be under supervision to make sure that nothing bad happens.

Stage 5: Hangover

Some people are blessed with no hangovers, but unfortunately the older your characters are, the more likely they are to get them. A hangover can really ruin your character's day-after, especially if they blacked out, although some pain relievers from over the counter should be able to help them out slightly.

Possible symptoms of a hangover from Mayoclinic.org:

Fatigue and weakness

Excessive thirst and dry mouth

Headaches and muscle aches

Nausea, vomiting or stomach pain

Poor or decreased sleep

Increased sensitivity to light and sound

Dizziness or a sense of the room spinning

Shakiness

Decreased ability to concentrate

Mood disturbances, such as depression, anxiety and irritability

Rapid heartbeat

Good luck to your character, because depending on how much they drank, it's gonna be a rough one.

3. How Do They Act?

Many people drink during parties in part to change their personality, especially if they tend to be shy while they're sober. While drunk, your character may have more fun than they would if they hadn't had anything, or may consider "lame" things exciting and interesting.

According to the University of Missouri's study of 374 undergraduates, there are four types of drunk personalities:

1. The Mary Poppins

These people are friendly when sober and remain friendly when they get drunk, perhaps getting even more affectionate and lovey. They won't really stir up any trouble and are usually quite amicable, albeit they have lowered inhibitions and decision-making skills.

2. The Hemingway

These people don't change too much when they're drunk. Their levels of intellect and self-discipline shift less than they do for others. Although they may feel the same effects, they may not outwardly show it as much as others do.

3. The Nutty Professor

These people are introverted when sober and extroverted when drunk. Shy, quiet people transform into the kings and queens of the dance floor or the most sociable partygoers you've ever met. They lose all inhibitions and tend to be loud and outgoing in a way that they most definitely weren't when they were sober.

4. The Mr. Hyde

These drunks are more commonly known as "angry drunks." While they're drunk, these people show significant decreases in agreeableness, intellect, and carefulness when they're under the influence. They're typically less responsible, less intellectual, and more hostile when drunk than when they're sober, and are the most likely to stir up trouble.

Hope this helped, and happy writing!