#open letter to game devs

[sknyuz]

Hiii pookie!!♡♡ Do a Park Humin (Baku) ff where the reader wass playing shooting game on her phone and loses, throwing tantrums or curses over it and blaming it to Baku who is just minding his own business next to you. Like they ended up bickering.......... After that, the reader got upset and ignored Baku, him ended up comforting and making up for it even if it's wasn't his fault. I feel like it'll be a chaotic scene 💀💀✌

pairing — park humin (baku) x gn!reader genre — fluff, comedy, established relationship warnings — mild language, excessive boyfriend whining, baku being baku word count — ~400

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

note: finally some good guys™ on here !! i am such a lovey dovey baku truther he would be so whipped and be super lovely to his partner. i love doing shorter reqs like this to fill in the gap between my longer fics.

you were sprawled across the couch, laser-focused on your phone screen, muttering threats under your breath as your in-game ammo count dropped lower and lower.

“die, die, die—” defeat. the bright red letters flashed mockingly.

“NOOOOO!” you shrieked, smacking the couch cushion and flailing your legs. “i had that! i had that!”

baku, sitting beside you eating chips and watching a basketball highlight video, turned to you with wide eyes. “yo, what happened??”

“your fault!” you groaned, flopping sideways and lightly punching his shoulder.

“HUH?!” he yelped, holding the chip bag protectively as it shook in his grasp. “what’d i do?! i was just sitting here breathing, peacefully!”

“exactly,” you grumbled. “you jinxed me with your stupid happy breathing.”

he blinked. “what’s wrong with my breathing?! it’s normal human breathing!!”

“normal and cursed,” you muttered, pouting as you hugged your phone to your chest like a child whose toy was just taken away. “i swear that last headshot didn’t even count.”

baku opened his mouth to argue but paused when he saw the full-blown pout forming on your lips. he immediately softened. “...wait. you’re mad mad?”

you sniffed dramatically and turned away. “go breathe over there. traitor.”

he panicked. “hey—wait, don’t ignore me. babe. baby. i love you. please.”

you didn’t answer, which made him whine louder.

“noooo, don’t do this to me. don’t ice me out,” he said, scooting closer and wrapping his arms around you like an octopus. “i’ll uninstall the game for you. i’ll email the devs and tell them to apologize. i’ll 1v1 whoever killed you. right now.” baku pouts, brows furrowing.

you resisted laughing. “you don’t even play this game.”

“i will now. out of spite.”

he tucked his chin over your shoulder and started swaying you gently, like he was trying to soothe a toddler mid-meltdown. “aigoo... my baby’s upset. i can feel the sadness radiating from your pores. it’s okay. blame me, hit me, kick me—just don’t ignore me. please!” he whines, all in theatrics.

you tried to hold back a smile, but it slipped.

“there it is,” he coos with a grin. “my cute, scary little sharpshooter.”

“you’re so annoying,” you muttered, leaning into his chest despite everything.

he kissed the top of your head. “but you absolutely love it.”

you sighed. “…if i lose again, it’s still your fault.”

“fair.”

“and you owe me boba.”

“make it two,” he grinned, already grabbing his hoodie. “let’s go right now. no game defeat can hold us down when we got boba and love.”

“...you’re such a dork.”

“but i’m your dork,” he quips again, flashing you a peace sign and poking his cheek with it, showing off his dumb little smile.

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[thewardenisonthecase]

my thing with the south being destroyed is that before the game released, they were on and on about how we're not talking about the south in this game guys, we're in the north, don't think about the south, we're not even doing worldstate choices.

and i made my peace with that y'know? like ok it sucks that we won't get to see ferelden or kirkwall or orlais or whatever again, but yeah its the north i GUESS it makes sense.

and then i open the game and suddenly my inquisitor is teling me about how the south is being attacked. like my small moment of joy for hearing the word Denerim is completely killed by the following other terrible words. And like ok. the south is in trouble but they're gonna be fine, rigth?

and then every single letter afterwards goes on and on about how shit is absolutely terrible, how they're fighting a loosing war, how ferelden has been SO decimated that its ENTIRE POPULATION FITS IN SKYHOLD. That the Avvar and the Chasind are still hunting but there probably won't be anything left to hunt soon. That Kirkwall had to be evecuated.

and they do make a point of naming Every Location That Might Be Important To The Player. They mention Redcliffe and Denerim and Lake Calenhad and Kirkwall and Skyhold, all places you've gone too and protected in the past, that most players have an attachment too, and they proceed to tell us that this place that is important to you is fucking razed to the ground, and that the people are fucking dead. its hard for it not to feel like a goddamn spit in the face.

and from what i gathered, this was apparently something added during the Alpha? I have this memory of one of the devs saying that halfway through they were like oh shit we need to show how the blight is affecting the south too and how big and bad this blight is and i'm like you really dont need to, i can see how bad it hurts the north and just imagine that on the south. and the worst part is that it feels like ONLY the codexes talk about it bc even the inquisitor is just like "sigh yeah its tough down there but we're managing" and i'm like by your letters no the fuck you're not, why the fuck is harding going to redcliffe with emmrich when you just told me redcliffe is fucking gone

and people saying the south will rebuild and like i have SERIOUS DOUBTS about that because remember, the blight fucking destroys the land. and in inky's last letter, they explicitly say that the population of ferelden has been cut down to Skyhold's size and that they all might starve soon. Kirkwall is essentially fucking gone considering it was evacuated and is now overrun by blight.

like seriously who the fuck thought anyone would be happy to read that places they spent 3 fucking games protecting are now destroyed WHO

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader x Gojo Satoru x Nanami Kento F!CHRO Reader x Higuruma Hiromi

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Previous Chapter 21 (alt ending 2.12) - What the Living Do - Part 1 - (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 21 (alt ending 2.12) - What the Living Do - Part 2

Penthouse Building: Common Biophilic Garden

The garden was your favorite part of the penthouse complex—not just because you’d sunk an obscene amount of yen into modifying it but because it was the perfect blend of opulence and function. The entire space was a biophilic marvel: traditional Japanese landscaping with ecologically responsible elements—an elevated koi pond with a self-cleaning filtration system, bonsai grown from ethically sourced seeds, and a digitally controlled hydroponic system that saved 40% more water than conventional methods, so efficient it made environmentalists weep.

And birds naturally came there. So many fucking birds.

That part had been for Takahashi—currently tethered to his full-body Hermès leash (because Gojo insisted all his kids would have standards). 

Your eldritch albino toddler raccoon was crouched by the pond, chittering at a sparrow like a demonic wind-up toy. Except instead of chasing it, he was dunking a rock into the water over and over, as if conducting a cursed baptism.

You weren’t sure what this meant, but you were sure that the leash had bite marks on it.

“Jr., if you’re planning another jailbreak, I will revoke your snail-watching privileges.” You warned.

Takahashi froze. Then, with deliberate slowness, he shoved the rock into the pond.

You narrowed your eyes. "That’s what I thought."

A ping from your laptop cut the standoff.

You adjusted your posture on the hand-carved bench—ergonomic, sustainably sourced, and stupidly expensive—and flicked open the screen.

Subject: HUSBANDS: THE HORROR

From: Dove (Game Dev - Main Villain Branch) Attachments: 2 Files

The second Nanami’s rendered face loaded, you choked on your sparkling yuzu water.

There he was: pixel-perfect, brow furrowed with enough disdain to vaporize a lesser CEO.

Incoming video call: Dove.

You accepted. “Dove. My husband looks like he just smelled a bankruptcy filing. Perfect.”

“I know, right?” Dove cackled. “I even added a forehead vein expansion feature that activates every time the player breathes incorrectly in his vicinity.”

“Good. But his eyes are wrong.”

“They’re hazel…? I swear I saw it when he dropkicked Jeremy into the VR rig and fixed his cuffs.”

Shit. You couldn’t outright say golden—too many old photos might resurface. “They are brown, but add a luminous amber filter for combat mode. Subtle. Like… sunlight through honey whiskey.”

Dove squinted. “So they’re brown.��

“They are, but they have this subtle henna-like green tint. If you look closely, it’s his soft expressions—or maybe his aura—that makes them feel warm.”

A pause. Then you smirked. “I know, right? Fake-ass tsundere—”

Behind the koi pond, hidden among the manicured sakura trees, Gojo Satoru had officially transcended human function.

He’d been lurking—silent, technically obedient—hovering behind a row of blossoms, dressed down in a suspiciously casual black sweater and joggers, not making his presence known because, technically, today was Nanami’s day, and only Nanami was allowed to speak to you.

He knew this.

He respected this. (Tolerated at best.)

Gojo hadn’t meant to hover like a deprived Victorian ghost, but he’d spotted you by pure accident.

—He had been bored, searching for some other unsuspecting billionaire in the building to annoy, probably that retired arms dealer lady and her husband. That was until your voice carried through the garden like a targeted auditory curse.

He hadn’t expected to hear you go off about Nanami’s eyes like you were writing a love letter with Pantone codes.

But the skirt.

The hoodie.

His hoodie. His wife. Sitting there, gorgeous, pregnant, absolutely radiant—

And you were talking about Nanami’s eyes.

Gojo knew his husband was attractive. Objectively. Infuriatingly. But you—his wife, his pregnant, glowing, hoodie-stealing wife—were dissecting Nanami’s irises like they held the secrets of the universe.

His own eyes were rarer! More ethereal! Six-Eyes-certified!

Then—

“Next. Gojo’s hair.”

Gojo perked up.

You scowled at the screen. “This hex code is dogshit. His hair isn’t chalk white—it’s lavender-tinted, with micro-tones of pink and heavy violet undertones.”

Gojo's mouth parted, eyes wider than the sun.

A sound escaped him—something between a whimper and a seismic event.

On autopilot, he stumbled to the nearest water feature, staring at his reflection. The artificial moonlight caught it just right—

Oh.

Oh shit.

His hair did have undertones.

You noticed that? You memorized it?

You paid that much attention?

He gripped a sakura branch for support, the delicate blossoms brushing against his fingers. He knew you were always the one.

But holy shit. Even he didn’t know his Pantone.

You continued, typing furiously, “It’s #F5F3FF base, #E6E6FA overlay, shifting to #BCD9FF and #C9D7FF in direct light—faded at the roots like he’s literally too powerful for permanent dye jobs—like his roots are rejecting permanence on principle—"

Gojo was going to die.

His knees bent. His hands shook. He needed air. He needed oxygen. He needed to—

You—you—were reciting his hair’s color theory while holding on to a Porsche Design P’3135 titanium pen between your teeth like it was a damn lollipop.

Gojo short-circuited so hard it was audible.

You were wearing his hoodie—stolen—and a skirt that, scientifically, was shorter than memory allowed. Your pregnant belly, now third-trimester terrifying in its special grade geometry, barely fit beneath the hem.

And you were multitasking: sketching UI wireframes for a proprietary neural interface update, taking a call with your lead visual dev, and accidentally killing Gojo with every “mm” and “no, that curve’s wrong.”

He wanted to yank that pen out of your mouth with his teeth and kiss you until your portfolio blurred.

But then—then—

"That's way too small," you huffed, suddenly.

Gojo stopped breathing. His brain rebooted with a Windows error chime.

Dove, oblivious, hummed through. “Yeah? You think it should be bigger?”

“Obviously,” you said.

Gojo twitched like a man struck by lightning.

“More?”

“Yes. More.”

A sharp inhale. His vision pixelated.

"No. Not... it's not curved like that."

Gojo stopped breathing.

“More—okay, hold it,” you said. “Now add gloss over it.”

Gloss. You said gloss.

Gojo was seconds away from crawling through mulch and pine needles to die in your lap.

A few meters behind, Nanami Kento arrived, Espresso Tonic with Charcoal Dusting in hand, brow already furrowed. He’d expected the garden. He’d expected Takahashi. He’d not expected his very pregnant wife sitting under moonlight in couture maternity wear complaining about “curve” and “gloss” with Gojo twitching in nearby foliage.

Nanami halted.

You were on a call.

Gojo was crouched like a burglar.

And Takahashi—who hated Gojo with nuclear intensity—was vibrating on his leash like he’d just rolled a natural 20 for Smite Sorcerer Trash Husband.

Shoko had warned them about hormones. But nothing—nothing—prepared either man for the way you moaned the words “more, more, more” while holding a titanium pen in your teeth and barking revisions to a multi-million-dollar UI overhaul.

Gojo looked like he was about to ascend to another plane of existence. Nanami looked like he was about to run away.

Then—Takahashi decided diplomacy was over.

The raccoon lunged, leash snapping taut, eyes glowing with ancestral rage. A tiny, furious hiss burst out like a battle cry.

Gojo’s head whipped around. He made direct eye contact with the raccoon. His lips moved in panic.

“No, no, no—shh. Shut up, little demon. This is not the time—”

It was too late.

You turned.

Your gaze locked on the tragic figure of Gojo, hiding like a rejected himbo behind ornamental trees. His snow-white hair caught the moonlight. His sweater clung to him like a fan edit.

Your eyes narrowed.

He tried to shrink. Takahashi puffed up, snarling like a raccoon possessed by Mahito.

Gojo sent him a desperate look.

Takahashi sneezed at him in disgust.

Nanami sat down beside you at the stone table, placing his drink with deliberate grace. "Well," he said calmly. "It seems the toddler leash is effective."

Gojo stumbled into the open like a man exiting confession. "Babe, listen—"

“You were lurking.”

“I—” He scratched his neck. “Okay. Yes. I was lurking. But you were talking about me.”

You blinked, unimpressed. “And what exactly did you think I was talking about?”

Nanami took another sip of his drink, watching like it was theatre.

Gojo broke eye contact. Mumbled something unintelligible.

You leaned in. “Come again?”

He exhaled, flushed. “I thought you were talking about my dick, okay?”

Silence.

Dove—still on the call, apparently—wheezed. “I’ll talk later, boss.” She hung up so fast you could hear her sprinting away to share the new gossip.

You stared at Gojo, scandalized. Then glanced at Nanami, who looked like he was trying to decide whether to lecture or laugh.

Gojo dropped onto the bench beside you with theatrical grief. “You—” he pointed, betrayed, “—you made me believe—”

Takahashi, now near the koi pond, let out an unholy screech that echoed off the stone walls like an ancient curse.

You smirked. “No, I was talking about your ass.”

Gojo blinked. “My what?”

“For fan service, Satoru,” you said, snapping your laptop shut. “We’ve got a TikTok collab with Dove’s team for the next console teaser. Your glutes are getting a close-up.”

Gojo opened his mouth, then closed it, then looked at Nanami like a betrayed second wife.

“You heard all that,” he said, horrified.

Nanami ran a hand through his unstyled hair. “Every word.”

Gojo groaned and dropped his face into your lap—where the small skirt was riding up—like he was hoping the twins would kick him into unconsciousness. You didn’t move, just twirled the pen between your fingers.

Takahashi, still glaring, made a noise so pointed Gojo flinched.

You eyed the raccoon. “He still hasn’t forgiven you.”

Gojo sat up, affronted. “For what?! I bought him a custom stroller and three kinds of duck jerky.”

“He knows,” you said, voice grim. “About the Roomba incident.”

“I—what Roomba incident?!”

Nanami looked away, mouth twitching.

You grinned. “Ask him.”

Gojo turned slowly toward the raccoon. “Takahashi... what the fuck did I do to you?”

Takahashi hissed, lifted his tiny paw, and smacked a pebble directly at Gojo’s shin.

Gojo yelped. “Nanami. He assaulted me. Did you see that?”

Nanami did not reply. He was already texting Shoko:

Update: He said “fuck” again. Raccoon remains hostile.

A few minutes later, the koi pond gurgled softly, an ambient counterpoint to the rustling of the sakura trees in the artificial breeze. Takahashi had finally abandoned his rock-drowning ritual and was now perched indignantly on your lap, munching on treats that Nanami had brought him. His tiny claws gripped your hoodie like a spoiled gremlin, and he continued to stare daggers at Gojo, who was still battling a spiritual crisis over the revelation that you had memorized the subtle tints of his hair.

Nanami, seated beside you, calmly sipped his one-too-many-steps coffee in a black hoodie. His posture was relaxed, one arm draped along the back of the bench—casual yet protective. Unlike Gojo, who was fidgeting with his hair, Nanami’s golden eyes were trained on you in quiet scrutiny.

Despite the amusement, the teasing, and the absurdity of it all, Nanami had noticed something.

You kept flicking your gaze toward your phone. Not checking it, but looking at it. A single name sat at the top of your notifications, its call attempts ignored.

Nanami set down his drink, his expression shifting.

“You’re avoiding something.”

Your fingers, mid-scratch against Takahashi’s cream fur, twitched.

Gojo perked up, momentarily distracted from his vanity crisis. “Who’s calling?” He tilted his head, leaning in closer. “Need me to deal with it?”

“No.” You didn’t look at him. “It’s work.”

Nanami and Gojo exchanged glances behind you, their concern palpable.

Gojo, not one to miss an opportunity to be involved, pressed in close enough that you could feel the warmth of his large body radiating through his sweater. Nanami shifted slightly, exuding a more subtle but equally present support.

They waited.

Then suddenly, Takahashi’s snout was buried inside your hoodie.

Again.

Nanami, resigned, muttered something about “filing a complaint with the raccoon union.” Gojo, on the other hand, was actively trying to negotiate with the creature like a man desperate to de-escalate a hostage situation.

“Taka-baby,” Gojo cooed, hands held out as if soothing a small child—or a ticking bomb. “Buddy. Pal. My tiny, vicious fur-kin. Let’s not violate personal space—”

Takahashi growled.

You didn’t move. At this point, you were too pregnant, too emotionally drained, and too done to care that your mutant trash raccoon son was trying to breastfeed off your hoodie strings.

“Leave him,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “He’s asserting dominance.”

Gojo looked genuinely wounded. “Over me?”

“Obviously,” Nanami said. “He considers you a threat to the mammary hierarchy.”

Gojo turned to you, his expression earnest. “Is that true? Am I not your number one anymore?”

You didn’t answer. Mostly because Takahashi had now crawled higher onto your chest, one clawed paw gripping the edge of your bra like he was about to sue for custody.

Nanami leaned forward slightly, and plucked the raccoon off you with a well-practiced scoop. “You are not a marsupial,” he muttered as Takahashi yowled indignantly, limbs flailing like a drunken toddler mid-tantrum.

“You try telling him that,” you muttered, slumping further into the bench. Your body ached. Your hormones were throwing raves. Your unborn twins were practicing jujutsu in your uterus. And somehow, you were also expected to be the face of a trillion-dollar empire with both your war criminal husbands lurking around like cursed Greek statues.

You exhaled, looking at the sky. “They want me to do an interview.”

Gojo blinked. “That’s it?”

“It’s for Vogue,” you added flatly.

Gojo’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you should definitely do it.”

You groaned.

Nanami exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to the sky—the same way yours had moments ago. “It’s a PR move, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “The board thinks it’s necessary after someone ‘accidentally’ revealed our marriage, and now the internet is spiraling.”

Gojo leaned back with an exaggerated shrug. “Pfft. They’d have found out eventually.”

“They found out when you yelled about it in a public lobby and punched my employees,” you deadpanned.

Gojo pulled you into his chest, arms curling around you protectively. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Nanami, already massaging his forehead, turned his attention back to you, his tone gentler. “So why don’t you want to do it?”

You exhaled deeply. “Because I’m tired. I am seven months pregnant with your godforsaken body-horror twins. My feet hurt. My back hurts. My boobs—” You stopped yourself just in time—because Gojo’s horny ass would absolutely pounce on that. “—everything hurts. And the last thing I want is to sit under studio lights while some Vogue journalist who doesn’t know a single thing about the gaming industry asks me invasive questions about my uterus.”

Silence.

Then—“We could threaten them,” Gojo offered helpfully.

Nanami’s eyes slid shut. “We are not threatening Vogue.”

“Just a little threat?”

“No.”

Gojo pouted.

You sighed, shifting slightly. Their gazes were still on you—warm, patient, concerned. It made your throat feel tight.

Nanami set his coffee aside. Then, without a word, he reached for your hand, his fingers threading through yours with quiet ease.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” he said simply.

Gojo, for once, nodded in agreement.

You swallowed. “But if I don’t, the PR backlash—”

“Will fade,” Nanami finished, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “It always does.”

Gojo tilted his head, a glint in his eyes. “And besides, if anyone gives you trouble, I can just…” He made a vague, ominous hand gesture.

Nanami shot him a warning look.

Gojo sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll let you handle the intimidation this time.”

That earned him an amused snort from you.

You stared down at your lap, feeling the weight of the moment. “I just… I never thought I’d be here.”

Gojo leaned in, feigning offense. “You mean married to us?”

“No,” you said, then hesitated. “I mean—yes, I was sure I’d die alone, but ya—” You gestured vaguely to your stomach. “This.”

Nanami’s grip tightened slightly, a silent reassurance.

Gojo’s expression flickered—just for a second—before he covered it with an easy grin. “Yeah,” he said, his voice lighter than his eyes. “Same.”

Nanami exhaled, his gaze darkening. “I never thought I’d live long enough to be a father.”

The weight of that statement hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. You didn’t miss it. Neither did Gojo.

Nanami had spent his whole life preparing for a death he assumed was inevitable. But he was still here. And now, he was bringing children into a world he never thought he’d see.

Gojo, for all his loud bravado, had spent just as long dreading fatherhood—not because he didn’t love you, but because he knew what happened to strong children. He had watched power be twisted, children turned into weapons. Even his own parents had let it happen.

He never wanted that.

And you—

You had never planned for kids. You had spent years building a life for yourself, crafting a future from scratch. You had worked too hard to be anything but untouchable.

They loved you. That had always been enough.

But here you were.

Nanami sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know if I’ll be good at this.”

Gojo snorted. “You’re already a better dad than mine ever was.”

Nanami shot him a flat look. “That is a very low bar, Satoru.”

Gojo’s smirk faltered for half a second—just long enough for you to see the ghost of the boy his family discarded. Then the mask slid back into place. “I know,” he said, smirking again. After a pause, he nudged you with his shoulder. “You, though. You’re gonna be great.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words.

Gojo smiled, softer now, unexpectedly earnest. “I mean it.”

Nanami’s thumb swept over your knuckles—once, twice—a silent I’m here in Morse code. “So do I.”

The admission hung between you, fragile as the ice you’d been walking on since the pregnancy test.

“What if I—” Your voice cracked. “What if I turn into them? What if I get overwhelmed? I’m not good when I’m frustrated. I run away.” You muttered to yourself, the fear creeping in.

Nanami’s palm settled over your bump, warm. "You won’t become them." His tone was simple, absolute. "And if you need to leave, we’ll follow. Every time. If you need to scream, we’ll listen. That’s the difference between you and them—you’re afraid of becoming a monster. They never were."

Gojo’s knee bounced against yours, a subtle reminder that his support was there too. Nanami’s words were meant for him as well, just in a different way.

You bit your lip hard enough to taste copper, blinking against the sudden sting in your eyes.

Then—because tears were for people who hadn’t learned to swallow them by age six—you cleared your throat. “Names,” you croaked. “We should… talk about names.”

Gojo immediately perked up. “Megumi 2: the Electric Boogaloo—”

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “I genuinely am fascinated by what goes on in that brain of yours.”

Nanami snorted, a hint of amusement breaking through his serious demeanor.

But Gojo was undeterred. “I vote for Satoru Jr.”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

Gojo pouted, crossing his arms.

Nanami tapped his fingers against yours. “Have you thought of any names?”

You hesitated, then a memory surfaced. “You remember when we were in Bora Bora?”

Gojo’s grin turned immediately smug. “You mean when we made them?”

Nanami rolled his eyes, though a faint blush crept up his neck beneath a hoodie.

You ignored him, focusing on the moment. “You mentioned something about names. You were joking, but… I liked them. They’ve been stuck in my head since I found out.”

Gojo perked up, curiosity piqued. “Oh? Lemme hear ‘em.”

“For the girl… Emi.”

Gojo blinked, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “That’s cute.”

Nanami nodded thoughtfully. “It suits her.”

“And the boy…” You frowned, thinking. Then—“Kaito.”

Something passed between them—an unspoken understanding.

Nanami hummed. “Emi and Kaito.” He rolled the names over his tongue. “I like it.”

Gojo grinned. “Me too.”

For a moment, the air felt lighter, filled with the warmth of shared dreams.

Then, just as you were about to lean into the warmth of the moment—

Nanami’s phone buzzed.

He sighed, checking the caller ID. Then he turned the screen toward Gojo.

Gojo took one look, then groaned, throwing his head back. “Ughhh. What do they want now?”

“They want you back at Jujutsu Tech.”

“To take over?”

Nanami just smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Gojo’s smirk widened. “Mm. Seems they’re short on leadership.”

Ah.

Nanami leaned back, crossing his arms. “How tragic.”

Gojo stretched lazily. “Very. Wonder what happened to the old higher-ups?”

Nanami didn’t even blink. “I hear they suffered sudden, unexpected deaths.”

Gojo tsked. “How unfortunate.”

Nanami had just barely deposited the shrieking, wriggling raccoon onto the grass when Takahashi made a desperate break for your chest again—his pink, suspiciously sharp little nose twitching. The moment Nanami’s hands loosened, he leapt up your shin like a furry Terminator with mommy issues, clambering with singular purpose toward your boobs.

Gojo instinctively caught the beast mid-flight, cradling him like a furious child mid-tantrum.

“Hey—hey now,” he coaxed, trying not to flinch as Takahashi bared tiny teeth. “We’ve talked about this, okay? You are not… lactating adjacent. You’re a raccoon, not a breast enthusiast.”

Takahashi hissed, as if he paid rent on your mammary glands and Gojo was the eviction notice.

You just leaned back again, dead behind the eyes, letting your hoodie fall askew like a white flag.

“Just let him do what he needs to do,” you mumbled, exhaustion creeping in.

Gojo blinked, concern etched on his face. “Baby. He’s trying to suckle.”

“I know.”

Nanami—knees bent, watching Takahashi like a predator tracking a flightless bird—sighed deeply, rubbed his temples, and muttered under his breath, “There’s no HR department in hell, but I will build one.”

The absurdity of it all might’ve cracked you into laughter if you weren’t currently a pillow for both a trash mammal and two cursed womb roommates. Instead, you stared blankly at your phone again, then at the koi pond. You could see your reflection—dark circles, swollen ankles, faint mascara smudge like an exhausted raccoon queen. So maybe that’s why Takahashi liked you. Trauma recognized trauma.

Gojo sat back down beside you, the raccoon still in his lap like a protestor demanding equal access to boobs. His voice was soft this time. “You’ve really given up, huh?”

“I gave up the moment I started arguing with a raccoon about personal space and lost,” you replied, a hint of bitterness creeping into your tone.

Nanami didn’t laugh. He only moved to take the phone from your lap, reading the notifications with his usual detached efficiency. After a beat, he said, “It’s your CHRO again. Third time today.”

“She’s just worried,” you murmured, brushing a hand against your bump. “She keeps sending me articles about postpartum depression. And nannies. And how all the rich people are freezing their embryos now.”

Gojo raised a brow. “Kinda late for that.”

Nanami didn’t speak for a moment. Then: “Do you want a nanny?”

You stared ahead, watching the koi gather, waiting for food and your hand absentmindedly moved to turn on the automatic feeder. “I don’t know.”

Gojo leaned forward, his voice quieter. “You don’t have to know yet.”

“No, I should,” you snapped, a little sharper than intended. Takahashi perked up, looking offended.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I keep thinking about the delivery. About holding them for the first time and just… not feeling anything.”

There it was. The raw thought. The fear that made your chest tighten every time the twins kicked. What if the hormones didn’t fix it? What if you resented them? What if the damage was already done before you even met them?

Nanami’s voice was low, grounded. “That’s not unusual.”

Gojo tilted his head, his expression softening. “My mom left right after I was born. Didn’t even name me.” He gave you a crooked, fragile smile. “You already care more than she did.”

“That’s not a high bar,” you rubbed his back, trying to keep the conversation light.

Nanami, without fanfare, placed a hand on your knee. “We’re not measuring you against ghosts.”

“But I’m still afraid,” you said, and you weren’t even sure who you were saying it to. Yourself, maybe.

They were both quiet, but present. Gojo reached up and gently scratched behind Takahashi’s ears, whispering nonsense in a sugar-sweet voice until the raccoon flopped over, utterly seduced by Gojo’s baby talk.

Then, unexpectedly, Nanami said, “I think I’ll be the strict one.”

Gojo turned to him, grinning. “You are the strict one.”

“I mean with them,” Nanami said, glancing at your stomach. “The twins.”

Gojo scoffed. “Yeah, and I’ll be the cool one.”

“You can’t even get Takahashi to stop motorboating her chest.”

“I could if you’d let me use the squirt bottle!”

They fell into harmless bickering again, but you didn’t interrupt. You let it carry you like a tide, like static, as you watched the sun make silhouettes of the koi beneath the water. Then—

“I’m afraid I’ll ruin them,” you said softly, and everything fell silent again.

Gojo didn’t joke. Nanami didn’t analyze. They just sat with you in the hush of the garden, the koi pond gurgling like the world’s softest metronome.

“You won’t,” Nanami said, his voice steady.

“But what if I do?”

Gojo exhaled slowly, leaning in, resting his chin on your shoulder, even as Takahashi reclaimed your belly like it was his emotional support trampoline. “Then we’ll fix it. Together. You’re not doing this alone. Even if I die, I’ll haunt you like a friendly titty ghost.”

You didn’t laugh.

But the tears came.

Hot. Quiet. Infuriating.

You wiped them away quickly, but not quickly enough.

Nanami was already pressing a clean handkerchief into your palm. Of course he was.

“I’m not ready,” you whispered, leaning on his chest instead as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“None of us are,” Gojo said gently. “That’s the point.”

“You always talk like that,” you mumbled through the fabric. “Like failed therapists who fuck.”

Gojo beamed. “I should take Maya’s job. I’d be so much better at it.”

Nanami, finally letting the smile tug at the edge of his mouth, leaned back and gave you that look. The one that said he was tired, too. That he was also scared. That he understood.

“I think being ready means you’ve stopped caring if you fail,” he said quietly. “We care too much. That’s the only reason we’ll make it.”

And that?

That almost made it okay.

Almost.

Then Takahashi climbed halfway up your chest again and screamed into your ear like a traumatized siren.

Gojo clapped once. “Okay! Time for someone to go into his designer stroller!”

Nanami scooped the raccoon up with the dead-eyed efficiency of a man who'd once done this with cursed spirits. “Your tyranny ends here, Takahashi.”

You slumped against the bench with a long sigh as Gojo pressed a kiss to your temple. “Wanna go lie down, baby?”

“Only if neither of you talk for an hour.”

Gojo looked like he was physically restraining himself from a joke.

Nanami stood, already hauling the raccoon like a sack of rice. “Deal.”

You let them help you up—awkward, slow, heavy with children and fatigue. But also, you didn’t feel like you were walking alone.

There were hands under your arms.

There were men arguing over stroller brakes.

There was a raccoon making increasingly sexual-sounding threats in a baby voice.

And somehow, it was enough.

---

When you woke up, your penthouse was quiet—well, as quiet as it could be with a three-month-old raccoon tearing through the room like he had declared war on gravity.

Takahashi was currently engaged in a one-sided battle with the corner of your gaming chair, gnawing on the fabric like his life depended on it. His tiny claws scrabbled against the polished floor, his pink eyes gleaming with mischief. Maybe in another universe, he’d be Sukuna’s vessel.

You scratched his fluffy head absentmindedly, sprawled on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs. Your back ached, your feet were swollen, and your belly felt like it was carrying two baby kaiju instead of actual human children. But you were fine. Really.

It wasn’t like you cared that your husbands were currently on the other side of the room, laughing at something you didn’t understand.

Gojo was draped over the arm of Nanami’s chair, laughing so hard he was practically wheezing, while Nanami—Nanami, the man who rarely showed amusement outside of private moments—had his forehead resting in one hand, shoulders shaking with laughter.

You frowned.

You hadn’t been ignoring them, per se—you were just letting them enjoy themselves. But something about it felt… weird. Like you were watching them from behind glass.

You nudged Cloud Save, who chattered at you before rolling onto his back and promptly falling off the couch.

Gojo wiped at his eyes, still breathless. “God, I haven’t laughed that hard in ages—”

Then he saw your face.

The laughter dimmed. Not completely—Gojo never stopped radiating chaotic energy—but enough that he was watching you now.

Nanami followed his gaze, his expression smoothing into something unreadable. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked. “Nothing.”

Gojo tilted his head, still upside down over the chair arm. “Mmm, liar.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to Clout Save, who had now discovered the joys of burrowing into your blanket.

“It’s not a big deal,” you muttered. “You were just laughing about something I didn’t get.”

Gojo was immediately next to you, leaning against the couch, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Oh, baby,” he cooed. “Did we make you feel left out?”

You shoved his face away. “No. I don’t care.”

Nanami sat on the other side of the couch, his hand resting lightly on your knee. “It was just a reference to something from our school days. We didn’t mean to exclude you.”

Yes, definitely, by speaking in that rapid-fire traditional Japanese, you were still not a hundred percent sure you understood.

Gojo looped an arm around your waist and pressed his forehead against your temple. “You sure you don’t care?”

You could feel the warmth of them—Gojo’s body heat, Nanami’s steady presence, the weight of their attention.

And… maybe you had felt a little distant. Not because of them, but because your brain had been tangled in a mess of hormones and exhaustion and impending motherhood.

You sighed, relenting just a little. “I was just happy to see you both relax. That’s all.”

Gojo blinked, his grin softening.

Nanami’s fingers traced soothing circles on your knee.

“You’re an idiot,” Gojo announced fondly.

You kicked him in the shin.

He yelped, and Takahashi took that as his cue to launch himself at Gojo’s face.

Nanami exhaled heavily. “I am going to pretend I didn’t see that.”

Gojo, now wrestling the raccoon, just grinned up at you. “Love you, too, babe.”

---

Kashimo found another tracker.

---

“You ever get tired of pretending to be normal?” Sukuna asked.

His voice was flat, but something about the way he flexed his jaw at the end made Choso pause mid-game. The screen glared white-hot into his face—another kill. He didn't turn around yet.

“I’m not pretending,” Choso muttered, clicking reload. “This is normal. You’re the one who picks fights with a CHRO at 3 AM because she screened your calls.”

Sukuna scoffed, leaning back into the expensive imported leather couch like a king growing bored of his court. He was shirtless, his tattoos stretching and disappearing into low-slung black joggers, barefoot and annoyed. “The woman isn’t just screening me. She’s fucking toying with me. Like some middle-management Riko clone who thinks I’ll fold if she says ‘no’ three times in a polite tone.”

“She probably doesn’t want you around her boss,” Choso pointed out. “If you’re calling her “small” before a hello, maybe she’s got a point.”

"I'm fed up, Choso." His voice was gravel-thick, simmering.

Choso didn’t turn from his game. “Why.”

Sukuna rubbed at his temple like the question itself was giving him a migraine. “Why is she so hard to reach? And why is she still with those two idiots?”

He exhaled, head tilting back over the couch, exposing the sharp lines of his throat and collarbone—his hair unkempt, black with a dark-red undercast, temple scars mostly faded but still there, like someone had tried to erase a god and failed.

“Her CHRO keeps blocking me. I offered a full tech overhaul, guaranteed stock recovery, even hinted I’d dump eleven figures into the company. Nothing. Silence. Just polite corporate fuck-you silence.”

“She’s probably got real skills,” Choso muttered, not even looking. “Not nepo. Probably doesn’t trust powerful men. I wouldn’t, if I were her.”

Yuji was outside yelling at Junpei not to put slugs on his Balenciagas.

Sukuna’s lips curled. “It’s not that. That company’s built like a fortress—not around money. Around her. They’ll chat for hours if you don’t mention the CEO, but the moment you even imply her name, they clam up like I said a slur.”

He’d tried everything. Cold calls to ex-employees, old investors, even friendly clients. Each one folded the moment he probed into the personal life of the CEO—the mysterious, currently-on-maternity-leave tech empress whose very mention made the air change. Whose existence had started gnawing at his brain like a parasite.

“I don’t get it,” Choso said. “Why her? Why are you spiraling?”

Sukuna's eyes narrowed at the back of Choso’s head. The kind of look that once preceded mass bloodshed. Choso paused his game and finally turned.

“It’s a real question,” he said. “You’re not sleeping. You’re skipping meals. You’re watching her old keynotes like a divorced ghost.”

Sukuna didn’t answer for a long moment. His throat worked, and then:

“It feels like... like I already knew her. Like I already had a life with her. A full one. Long. Loud. Domestic. I remember the feeling of carrying her to bed after she fainted, barefoot on cold tile. I remember arguing in airports. I remember her laugh, post-orgasm. I remember twins that never made it past the month she’s in now.”

He looked down at his hands. Still weapons, no matter how well-manicured. “I’m not even sure they were mine.”

Choso blinked. “Sounds like a curse.”

Sukuna glared. “No one alive is strong enough to curse me.”

“Then what? Hormonal imbalance? Constipation? You are pushing 40—”

Sukuna's phone rang, cutting him off.

The caller ID read: DO NOT KILL

He picked up, not bothering to mask the venom. “Finally returning my calls, bitch.”

Choso flinched and pointed to his temple. Don’t call women bitches, he mouthed.

Sukuna rolled his eyes and mouthed back at him; she made my life hell.

“Listen to me, Yorozu. I didn’t plant you in there so you could play therapy godmother. I don’t care if they’re ‘finding their way back to each other.’ You want Kashimo? Earn it. Drive. A. Wedge.”

He ended the call with a tap, knuckles white around the phone. The cityscape stretched infront of him—Osaka lights, thick humid air, his house glass glinting like a warning.

Choso stared. “You are…?”

“She was already obsessed. I just… redirected it.”

“You’re trying to destroy her marriage.”

“I’m trying to see her.” Sukuna said it like it hurt. “You don’t get it. There’s something... left over. Not obsession. Not lust. Something—ancient. And I don’t even want to be in love. I just... I remember being hers.”

A beat.

“And I don’t know if she remembers me.” He exhaled.

Choso’s expression softened. “Maybe she does,” he said thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to the newspaper. “At least our efforts to take out those who tried to go after the bounty on her head counts for something. Maybe that’s why she’s hiding.”

Before Sukuna could respond, the front door opened.

Yuji walked in holding a jar of pickles. Junpei followed, looking suspiciously damp.

“Are we out of ice cream?” Yuji asked.

“I think Junpei fed it to the frogs,” Choso said.

Junpei shrugged. “He looked like he was going through something.”

“Same,” Sukuna muttered.

---

Later That Night – A Secure Line in Tokyo

Megumi hung up the encrypted phone.

“He’s getting closer,” he muttered.

Across from him, Haibara Yu tilted his head and smiled like a cat watching a mouse forget it’s being watched.

“Let him try,” Haibara said. “If he gets through, I’ll kill him with kindness. Or something sharper.”

“Don’t kill him,” Megumi said.

Haibara’s eyes gleamed.

“Yet.”

---

A week later

“Shit, she’s going into cardiac arrest.”

“Fucking move over.” Shoko pushed the RN.

Gojo rages at doctors for answers, while Nanami methodically signs consent forms with shaking hands.

They have to choose between maternal DNR orders or sacrificing the twins.

A/N: So like. Which part emotionally decapitated you the most: The haori? Nanami’s mango dissection? (something is coming next up with the mangoes trust me.) Gojo saying “I’ll get us all pregnant”? Why is Maya hotter than 80% of men in this fic? Does Gojo deserve forgiveness yet, or should we launch #PregnantInPradaAndPetty? Who deserves to suffer the most in the next chapter for their crimes against you? Gojo "Voice Actor Fraud" Satoru Nanami "My Face Is Her Favorite Food" Kento Haibara "Better Than You" Yu Megumi "Toji 2.0 With Access to Stock Options" Fushiguro Maya "I'm in your walls" Daddy Sukuna "Your wife calls me daddy too" Ryomen Tell me which part made you laugh, which made you cry, and which part made you want to punch Maya in the throat or marry her. COMMENTS FEED ME. Or I will send Kashimo in wet mode to your house. 🩸 Also since you can see I updated the ships, CHRO & thirsty Lawyer incoming in the next chapter, (it's mostly ready so should be here soon.) And yes, Cloud Save will get his POV soon. Probably while eating drywall.

Next Chapter 22 (alt ending 2.13) - Things Broken Are Still Yours - Part 1 - (Tumblr/Ao3)

A spin-off Crack series in the same AU - (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

Beta - @blackrimmedrose

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy @xx-tazzdevil-xx @unaaasz @thebumbqueen @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @whos-ruru @helo1281917

[narklos]

Half-Lore #3: 66 HL Facts!

Make your 'counting to three' jokes in the tags please. Back with another instalment, this is one I've been looking forward to! 66 random facts spanning the entire Half-Life franchise (bc I couldn't fit 100 in one post due to numbered list character limits...) If you have any suggestions for other instalments of Half-Lore, please let me know.

Have a peep under the cut, and enjoy!

Gordon can speak, as confirmed in a series of letters that were included in HL1's box. They mention that L.M and him had a telephone call prior to Gordon's arrival.

Speaking of L.M, he was the original administrator for Black Mesa. L.M was the G-Man, though his full name is never revealed.

Barney and Breen were both meant to appear in Half-Life: Alyx, but were cut due to a hard reset on the game's development.

Gordon is apparently very clumsy. Eli jokes about it in a series of cut voicelines.

Prior to his appointment at Black Mesa, Gordon was stationed at the University of Innsbruck in Austria.

Russell's complaint about being told to apply a year later after his interview at Black Mesa is a real-life hiring process that Valve uses.

Marc Laidlaw mentioned that the baby photo in Gordon's locker is probably a nephew, making Gordon an uncle!

Bullsquids have a 'hungry' mode. If they find a dead headcrab, and they're in hungry mode, they'll eat it. Otherwise, they'll play a sniffing animation and walk away.

In HL2, you can bonk NPCs on the head during a cutscene to make them teleport. This is because the game thinks that the character is trapped by a physics prop, and will teleport them to the next segment in the cutscene to free them.

On Kleiner's clipboard during his first cutscene, what he's saying about the HEV suit is actually written on the paper word-for-word.

Barney has a girlfriend called Lauren, and a picture of her in his locker. The woman in question was a real-life girlfriend of one of the devs.

In one of the OP4 skyboxes, a dev has written the note "Hack hack hack all day long. Hack hack hack while I sing this song."

The mysterious artefact Alyx brings back to Black Mesa East is the head of a Cremator, which was a cut enemy.

HL2 was originally meant to take place in New York.

Headcrabs don't turn Gordon into a zombie because he apparently never lets them get close to his face.

Colette gets a kick out of violence.

Gordon was employee of the month when the Resonance Cascade happened.

A special rebel outpost along Route Kanal will start playing ambient windchimes if you hang around long enough.

Breen was meant to wear a pair of glasses, but Marc Laidlaw went against it, citing that they made Breen look 'vaguely homosexual'.

Russell was originally meant to be Laszlo, the finest mind of his generation. His computer's password is actually 'Laszlo' too!

There are props clipping through Russell's ceiling intentionally- objects will phase through each other during portal storms, the likes of which ravage City 17.

The Citadel wasn't built on Earth, per se- it was teleported in chunk by chunk like the world's biggest IKEA assembly.

G-Man cannot understand the Vort's language, and the Vorts use by-words when discussing him and the Advisors to avoid detection.

Combine Advisors cannot breathe Earth's atmosphere, hence the breathing apparatus they wear.

There was meant to be a fourth day of HL2's plot, but it was shortened to three. Players would have fought through a museum.

Eli lost his leg to a bullsquid when he was helping Kleiner into City 17.

Kleiner and Barney were meant to die in a bus crash in HL2's opening sequence. Marc Laidlaw wrote a short story discussing their deaths in rather graphic detail.

In Decay, there was a cut sequence where players witnessed Gordon getting killed if they didn't scare away the soldiers in time.

Despite 20 years having passed in reality, only around two weeks have passed for Gordon due to being in stasis.

For HLA, developers scanned in a $10,000 Nordstrom suit to use for G-Man's textures.

Level designer David Casali, who has worked on every single mainline HL game, was too tall for a lot of the levels in HLA's Vault sequence. This lead to a lot of upside-down sections being cut for accessibility.

G-Man was meant to be an unwilling prisoner in the Vault, as revealed in a storyboard in The Final Hours.

The Nihilanth is inspired by Gabe Newell's fears of fatherhood, as he'd just had his son at the time.

Nothing is native to Xen. Every alien animal present on Xen is running away from The Combine's invasion of their homeworlds.

During Opposing Force, players can find a gear and a valve inside of a cardboard box- a very clear nod to Gearbox and Valve!

Barney's model changes subtly from HL2 to Episode 1- he's shown more dishevelled, with his hair unkempt and a series of cuts on his cheeks.

G-Man's face is hidden in the Xenian crystal at Black Mesa East.

Alyx was found by the G-Man, sitting beside her dead mother and clutching her mother's wedding ring.

Child labour was meant to appear, with models and animations of the children working in Cremator factories made. This, understandably, were cut, and the lack of children explained away with the suppression field.

G-Man's crow friend is nicknamed 'Crowley'.

During the tactical map section of Surface Tension, you don't have to use the drone strike to destroy the doors leading to the next level- you can actually break it with a fully-charged Tau Cannon shot.

Typing 'haiku' in the game's console will generate a random haiku for you.

Imprisoning the G-Man in HLA was referred to as putting 'God in a Box' by developers.

HL2 on PC and HL2 on Xbox 360 sound wildly different! Due to advanced sound chips, developers were able to push the audio of HL2 to be more immersive and sound more realistic than on PC.

Grigori's shotgun is called Annabelle.

A model of Eli naked exists. This was meant to be used in the section we see him in the Combine pods.

An illustration of G-Man holding a gun to his head can be found on the back of a sign in HLA.

Similarly, in the Index HLA home environment, his eyes are used as part of an advertisement for 'vision enhancement'.

You can find a minifigure of the Scout in HLA.

The textures for some of HLA's cans actually use a recoloured metal effect from HL1's orange poster.

Grigori has cut crosses into the backs of his hands.

Inside G-Man's briefcase is pencils, ID, paper, and a gun.

The shadowy woman in HLA is called Hahn/The Contractor, and according to Erik Wolpaw, they 'have plans' for her.

A cut enemy called Mr. Friendly was meant to literally SA the player and knock Gordon's glasses off, blurring the screen. Apparently, the idea was to play on a gamer's subconscious (or conscious...) homophobia and make them freak out. This enemy was actually designed by a teenager, and was predictably scrapped.

Early advertisements for HL1 featured babies and children with lambdas replacing their eyes.

HL1 is intended to be an allegory for fighting your own inner hopelessness.

Valve's offices have a wall built to resemble the moving walls of the Citadel.

G-Man has had a total of 11 different models throughout HL's history.

Breaking the army crates in the Dreamcast port of HL1 will reveal copies of Sonic Adventure inside.

Gordon is from Seattle, Washington.

HL2 was delayed a lot during its development. At the time, many swore never to buy from Valve again due to their broken promises.

HL2's E3 demonstrations were staged.

Colette was employed by G-Man, but Gina died.

During a Reddit AMA, a dev responded that we shouldn't keep making Gordon feel bad about his outdated hairstyle choices, when asked about where his ponytail went.

A metrocop's hideaway can be found in the level after the zoo in HLA. Due to the amount of conspiracy theory paraphanelia, the room is theorised to be Barney's.

The act of covering your mouth to stop the fumes of Xenian flora from affecting you in HLA was implemented after playtesters instictively covered their mouths when sprayed.

Thanks for reading to the bottom! Here's some top notch BREENWAVE for you.

[studiokhara]

i love nu carnival... it really is a game made for fujoshis by fujoshis. like even if we didnt know already from interviews and such how the devs are it would be so clear from.the game itself. like firstable being the first yaoi gacha game where the male playable character IS HIS OWN CHARACTER and not a self insert. the game itself is basically a dating sim but with gacha and tcg strategy/mechanics. the game design and battle systems are soooo phoned in man....THE ULTS DONT EVEN GET SPECIAL ANIMATIONS... but they do have specific battle lines. and getting the card means you can stick your limited edition blorbo on your screen and if you do enough pulls you can get the relevant eiden and that unlocks more specific dialogue!! every birthday anniversary theres an in character letter from the character to eiden. every other month or so they seem to come out with a new line of outfits to sell as standees, and i always looove zooming in and inspecting each character. and of course the writing of the rooms, events, stories, etc..but i think all the little flourishes and details that work to establish more characterization and relationship stuff with eiden is so great. product/marketing strategy made in a lab to perfectly tap into the fujoshi contingent and get us to open our wallets

[starlos-art-stuff-lol]

Wouldn't it be messed up if Portal was like, a time loop or something

Chell escapes in Portal one after a few hours of puzzles, but she immediately passes out and get dragged back in. Chell's sent to sleep for [9999999-] And when she wakes up, she spends another few conscious hours escaping again, but for real this time.

At least, that's what seems to happen in the story.

As a player, you experience the game very differently from Chell.

For example; imagine you're a new player. You start Portal 1, and after the tutorial/easy section, the puzzles start to get harder. They take longer, one of the puzzles seems to require timing in a way that almost feels like it goes against the game rules. You take a lot of time to complete the puzzles, you die multiple times, and that's fine. The game is meant to be played that way. You beat gladOS and escape. This playthrough is for fun.

You start up portal 2, you watch a few cutscenes/scripted events. It's fun that you get to walk around and look at whatever you want, though the room is a bit dim, and Wheatley is kind of the same color as most other things, so it's not Immediately easy to find him when he's talking to you. You solve more puzzles, get betrayed by Wheatley, learn to never love anything, solve more puzzles, shoot Wheatley into space, get broken up with by GladOS, and you're confused by the turrets singing some opera song at you before you leave. You assume it's the devs saying "good job" but like, it's kinda out of place.

...

...So that was fun. Really fun actually. The humor was great, the characters were endearing, and you check out the multiplayer campaign.

You decide to play again.

...

You wake up in that one room again. You question why this bedroom is covered by glass from 3 sides. You hop through the easy levels with ease. You poke a stick at some of the levels, seeing if there are other ways to beat them, and you don't find any. You hop skip and jump through the test chambers, remembering the solutions to most of them. You don't fall for the fire pit near the end, which you didn't the first time, but you didn't know how to escape it and didn't think to portal out of the chamber. You beat gladOS pretty fast now, after figuring out how to beat her the first time. You try to explore, you think about this game know knowing the context of Portal 2. This playthrough is for lore.

You start Portal 2. You try to see if you can do anything in the starting room, which you can't. You know Wheatley's fate, you try to avoid getting attached, but you still hesitate to plug him into gladOS's body. You solve puzzles, trying to explore but find that this game is a lot more streamlined than you previously thought, despite it's scale. You try to save the defective turrets from incineration, but after a certain point, you run out of patience as they just keep coming. You decide to jump into Wheatley's Pit during the part where he kills you, just as a bit, and discover that he has unique dialogue for that. You hear the adventure core tell you to make Wheatley say a certain thing so he can snap back with a quip, and then Wheatley says that thing. None of that happened in your last playthrough. You realize that the turret symphony is GladOS's love letter to Chell, and it's kinda beautiful. You tear up a bit.

...

You finish again. Now what? You love these characters now, but there's not much left to discover. Do you play the game again? Just because?

Sure, why not?

But what's the goal now? Maybe you can try to blast through the games as fast as possible? Sure, you think you've memorized the test chambers by now.

...

You boot up portal again, pushing against the wall until the portal opens and co.pleting the tutorial as fast as possible. You dash through the levels, but end up on several hangups. You think about how you could have done this thing faster, or how you could have avoided that death. You beat the game in only a few hours. This playthrough is about speedrunning.

You start Portal 2. You frantically run around the starting room, unable to skip the cutscene as it's an in-game event. You hop through the wall, grab the portal gun, and blast through the puzzles. You're slower here, you feel like you're getting snagged on ledges more often, and the puzzles are harder to both remember and perform. By the end of the game, you feel like you could have gotten a much better time. Regardless, the whole ordeal is only a few hours.

...

You could have done less, you could have gone faster. You need a better time.

Again.

...

You press start, you speed through the levels. You run face-first into the corner of a wall, but otherwise make few mistakes. This run is about better speedrunning. You shave half an hour off your time.

You press "new game", you still can't escape the first cutscene, but you ignore everyone's dialogue, you figure out the physics of the game and stop getting stuck walking into ledges, you shave an hour off your time.

...

You're content with this. You aren't a professional speedrunner, but you went pretty fast.

...You're still not ready to let go of this game, yet.

You look online for exploits. Maybe you can find some deleted content.

You figure out how to activate debug mode, and realize you can use this to look behind the scenes.

...

You start the first game again, and turn on noclip. You give yourself the 2-portal portal gun immediately, and start checking out the out-of-bounds areas. You're freaked out by the giant white angelic glowing void beyond the game, but get accustomed to it quickly. You find an unused cake room, you look in the "scientist-examination" rooms outside of most of the chambers, which aren't that interesting, but it's nice to see them. You attempt to teleport between levels, but you find it easier to travel by elevator, if only because you don't have to type as much. Honestly, there's not much to find. This playthrough is about going beyond the bounds of the game.

You start the second game again. The setpieces for this game are a lot more expensive. You finally escape the apartment at the beginning of the game, and realize it's fully modeled from the outside too. You spend hours just looking at the gigantic setpieces from the outside, marveling at how gigantic and beautiful everything is. You don't think to look for Easter eggs more than thrice, as you're so dedicated to simply looking at all the complicated functions of everything. You also notice the light bridge is humming, like it's literally singing. It sounds familiar. The moon exists upside-down, below the boss battle, which didn't even occur to you until you saw it. It seemed like a cutscene up until now.

...

You've gained a new complex appreciation for this game. But you can't help but wonder if this was how you were supposed to experience things. Probably not, but like, whatever. You go into Tumblr and look up portal 2 fanart

...

...

...uhh, where was I going with this?

OH RIGHT TIMELOOPS

Uhh ok so. Thanks for reading all that. Bonus post time

So, what would The Portal Series's gameplay loop look like in-universe?

I mean, it wouldn't look like anything, the characters keep forgetting, but like

Chell remembers, in theory

I mean, she learns, you learn when you die, she should too, since you're controlling her

Imagine waking up in a mysterious place, not knowing where you were before this point or how you got here, so you have to escape.

And you die in a pit of acid.

And then you're not dead. You're at the point right before you died.

First of all, fucking ow. Second of all, how do you not die again? How did you undie just now? (You don't know you're a fictional character in a video game lol idiot)

You die over and over, eventually, you beat the person who keeps killing you, but you're so exhausted and starved that you pass out immediately after getting flung outside.

You wake up, in a small apartment. An electronic voice is telling you want to do. Your last memory is setting dragged backwards, supposedly into the facility again. You don't want to die, but you can't seem to open the door out and your robotic male not-gladOS caretaker doesn't seem to want to harm you. You go back to sleep, exhausted.

You wake up, and this tiny cute robot-

Look I'm not writing a pov fanfic for you, let's skip to the good stuff

You wake up, back in the fucking building again. You escaped, she kicked you out. She doesn't seem to remember. You don't die this time, and the same shit happens.

The blue fucker, you feel kinda bad for him, but he also punched you into a pit, so-

He doesn't remember anything either.

...

Like, that's a whole story there. Chell going crazy because her life is following Undertale RESET rules except she can't change anything without fundamentally breaking spacetime (again, she doesn't know she's a videogame character so that's what no clipping looks like to her)

That'd be so messed up right?

[rooksolas]

An Analysis and Reinterpretaion of Veilguard Solas, as a Man, Broken

I have been through many stages of grief with Solas' character as portrayed in Veilguard. I have bargained, I have argued, and I have finally reached acceptance, through much thought and consideration, by coming to an understanding that the Solas we see in Veilguard is completely different from the one we see at the end of Trespasser: I'd like to analyze Veilguard Solas from a different perspective, and discuss an interpretation of this Solas, as a man who has already given up on his journey, but is bound to continue, fueled by his regrets and pride.

(Please note, I am fully aware this essay is fueled by a fair amount of copium, but I am taking the writing in Veilguard at face value and in good faith. While I have my criticisms with the writing, I have made peace with the story the devs have provided to us with the resources they were given, and I'll be engaging with it accordingly, filling in gaps where I can. Will I be reaching, at times? Yes, but sometimes we need to reach to find closure.)

Truly, many thoughts, and an unbelievable amount of spoilers under the cut:

I'd like to consider, for this reinterpretation, at the end of Trespasser, Solas regrets leaving the Inquisitor, and not allowing himself to stop his path of destruction there, almost immediately. For all the masking he does, putting forward that he has the strength to betray them and destroy the world, once he is alone, he regrets it so deeply it breaks him, fully. HERE is when he actually decides to stop his quest to tear down the Veil- though he cannot admit that to himself, or anyone. He is still too proud to stray from his path, but his mind has already been changed, based on his time in the Inquisition, and his re-connection with the Inquisitor.

Solas continues through the next 10 years, too prideful to stray from his path, but unable to fully commit or put effort into his plans. He gains the respect of the Agents of Fen'harel, but walks away from them. He completes the lyrium dagger, as the Evanuris do need to be moved to a different prison , but he delays and delays and delays the moment of his ritual. He visits the Inquisitor in dreams, mournfully. He eats alone in the Crossroads. He writes the Inquisitor a letter, but cannot even muster the strength to send it.

In previous versions of the game, we can find concept art that depicts Solas manipulating Tevinter and the Qunari into an all-out war so he can perform a blood magic ritual as a last resort. Veilguard Solas is not that Solas. He's simply not willing to go that far for his goal, anymore. He walks forward, each trudging step taking him towards the inevitable end.

He learns that his friend Varric is currently searching for him, and that he's connected with someone named Rook. He learns about this "Rook", but does nothing to stop them from approaching his ritual. No wards to protect him, no traps, save for the demons spilling out. He left a perfect Eluvian path from Minrathous straight to his ritual site in Arlathan.

Perhaps a part of Solas wants to be destroyed, wants a hero to come fell him. Perhaps he feels that is the way out. Not consciously, not fully, but perhaps that's why he leaves himself so open.

When Varric approaches him, Solas does not use his power to turn him to stone. He also does not let him convince him, however- after all, he's already resigned to this fate. He's told the love of his life that even their words cannot stray him from his path, so he does not stop his actions here. He begins his ritual, and the fight with Varric ensues. He kills Varric, his friend, and it feels inevitable: just another murder in the path of blood the Dread Wolf walks. Mythal, Felassan, Varric.

The worst possible thing for Solas to experience in this moment, I would say, would be to be stuck in a place where he is incapable of action, and is forced to face monuments of his past failures with every passing, endless second, without even the escape of sleep to give him respite. Does he see the faces of those he loved? The people he knew, before the Veil was created: the ones he feels he has failed, yet again, by wishing to give up the fight? Does he see Felassan, desperately trying to convince him that the elves of today are people, and deserve a world to live in? Does he slowly come to realize he believes him, now?

As Ghilan'nain and Elgarnan have escaped, however, Solas is forced to change. When he and Rook share the Fade, he does what he is very practiced in doing: he puts on a mask. He becomes the trickster god Rook expects, and is startled by them matching his wit and passion.

He, effectively, Locks In, because he knows what the Evanuris will do to this world. On one hand, there's the element of Solas not wanting people to suffer, even if he's going to destroy their world (as seen in his handling of the Qunari invasion in Trespasser, etc.) But for this reading, I think there is another, unconcious reason for him to help: he expects this world to remain, and does not Want it destroyed. (There's also a secret, third reason: fuck the Evanuris we need to Get those guys) (and FUCK Elgarnan in particular).

So he helps Rook on their journey, all the while planning for a way out of this hell-prison, where he has to face everything he's ever done in every moment Rook is not present. While Solas presents the Varric hallucination as manipulation, and I believe it is, I also interpret it as a half-baked apology on Solas' end. Regret that he took Varric from this world, and from Rook, and letting him live on in this strange, twisted way, for both himself and Rook. Funny that Varric tells Solas that none of his plans work out, and even his plan to recreate Varric fails because of his regret and love for his friend.

So, Solas helps Rook. He guides them through their path, he encourages when necessary, he prods when Rook needs to show commitment. While we don't know how much Solas can see through Rook's eyes, he is at least aware of their party, and watches them grow, along with Rook. Does their connection with their teammates remind him of anyone? Does he see their friendship, their passion to save the world, and is forced to face the question of his commitment to destroying this world one more time?

While Solas does, on occasion, try to let Rook in on his thought process, the idea of joining Solas or completely seeing his point in tearing down the Veil is absent from the game. Again, if we're just interpreting what's in the game, I think that perhaps, Solas does not offer that option or insight to his path because he does not Want to convince Rook. It is possible, in Trespasser, for the Inquisitor to ask to join him, but he denies them. This is a similar denial, though we can interpret his complete absence of this choice as Solas' true unwillingness to tear down the Veil. If this Solas was ruthless? Would he not worm his way into Rook's head, and find a way to pull them closer to his side? But he does not- doesn't even try. Perhaps, yes, because he knows Rook would say no- but also, perhaps, because he does not want to give them that option, for fear he would succeed.

He helps them rescue the Dalish, and faces off against Elgarnan, all while Rook continues on their path, learning more about Solas through the Crossroads. While I won't go into too much detail of the murals, as many people have discussed Solas' past and his relationships, I think Mythal and his relationship to her is very important. I think sometimes, interpretations of her relationship with him are very one-sided, and I think an important aspect of Solas' character is that his choices are his own. He can be manipulated into them, especially when he is younger, but Solas is not capable of viewing those choices as coerced. He is Wisdom, he is Pride, and he believes that everything he does is of his accord: that's why he holds every action as his own regret. He regrets joining the world in physical form, he regrets stealing the Titan's dreams from them, but he lets the burden of guilt fall on him, even if the blame lies jointly with someone else. This is part of his Pride, the part of him that he cannot see is acting god-like, that his actions are worthy and correct because he feels their consequences so deeply. It is of course, not grounded in reality, but he is so deep in his regrets that he cannot see that his burden does not make him any more righteous than any other. That is, of course, until his burden breaks him, collapses on top of him.

All throughout the game, Solas plots to exit the Fade Prison, and succeeds after Rook kills Ghilan'nain. He throws them in his place, and adds that life to his list of regrets once more. But I think it's interesting what Solas does directly after this- he goes to the Shadow Dragons and provides aid. He HAS the lyrium dagger. The world is in chaos! Even with the threat of Elgarnan, I think it's fascinating that Solas does not take the chance to tear down the Veil, then, and instead goes directly to being the Fen'harel we all know and love: helping people harmed by Elgarnan's tyranny. I'll admit this is a bit of a weaker argument: you could fully say that Solas would not tear down the Veil while Elgarnan is still alive (or is physically unable to, due to Elgarnan's life force sustaining the Veil, though he tries the same thing at the beginning of the game), but I find it fascinating.

I also find it fascinating that in Solas' conversation with Rook, he does frame his actions as 'trying to save the world'- not HIS world, no reference to the world pre-Veil, the world he currently finds himself in. Could this be more manipulation tactics on Rook? Yes, and it probably is! But it is fascinating.

He continues to lie to Rook, and goes so far to swears above all else, very emphatically, that the Veil will not come down by his hand. We learn later that he is lying, that this is one more betrayal, but it does make me wonder if, for just a moment, he believed it. Maybe, in that moment, there was a small part of him that exhaled, that accepted that he could finally give up this path, to stop Elgarnan. Perhaps, even in that moment, he considered a world where he was free, even if he knew it was a lie, that Elgarnan's death would bring forth what the Dread Wolf desired anyway.

In the final scene, Rook defeats Elgarnan, and Solas reveals his betrayal. I have watched this sequence so many times, and I am going to mainly be discussing the redeem ending (and of course, the Inquisitor joining him in the Fade).

Solas, at this point, is on the verge of collapse: beaten and broken, and, almost apologetically, reveals his final betrayal to Rook. The way his lines are delivered in this scene are so exhausted, as if he is compelled to do this final, terrible act. As if, despite his regrets, fate has brought him so close to his goal that he cannot bear to stop now. His arguments are weak. He cannot even bring himself to finish justifying his actions. Compared to his detailed explanations he provided the Inquisitor, all Rook gets is "When you see the old world restored…" He can't even bring himself to finish his sentence. He must simply act, because that is what the Dread Wolf has wanted, for so long, and he is finally here, and there is nothing else for him to do.

When Rook freely gives him the Lyrium dagger, and asks him to stop… I truly believe he almost does. He stares at the dagger, holds it gingerly, fiddles with it. Walks towards the steps alone, slowly, thinking. Considering. Weighing his arguments. For a moment, Rook has him. Then, his next line.

"To stop those would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

This line solidifies Veilguard Solas for me. It is directly referencing the Inquisitor. This Solas is changed- he is no longer doing this for his people. He understands this world is worth saving, but cannot bring himself to stop. He has lied, and cheated, and betrayed again and again and again. This is the path he chose- to stop now would mean it was useless. Pointless. More regret for him to settle deep within himself. He cannot bring himself to stop, even when he agrees with Rook- because of his pride, and his regret.

But the Inquisitor is there, to staunch his pride. They forgive him, completely and fully. They look at him, and say the time he spent, the people he harmed: they matter. Of course they mattered. But it is not too late to revert to mortality. You do not have to act as a god, any longer. I forgive you as a man. I am here, and I see through your pride, and I forgive you. Let the world forgive you, too.

And this does affect him. This does bring him closer, but it is not enough. His pride has fallen, but his regrets, his endless regrets, will not let him escape. There is simply too much pain in his heart, for the elven people, for what they have lost, and for Mythal, his oldest friend, who betrayed him in turn, who was killed by the Evanuris and killed by him. In this section, she represents everything lost: he is speaking both of literal Mythal, and of the Elven world in general.

When Mythal appears, it breaks him. I'd like to propose a different interpretation to this scene than its face meaning. Mythal is literally his god, his creator, his friend, all of these things, and she is before him, and he weeps. He offers her the Lyrium dagger to kill him, but she stays her hand. Instead, she offers to share the blame with Solas, and releases him from her service. I think there's another element to be discussed here. I don't think it's a literal 'release of service', but, an absolution for Solas' regrets.

Solas has never been part of the Evanuris, or the Forgotten Ones. He has always been a man among gods, and a god among men. Mythal's speech to Solas reads to me as her encouraging Solas to move forward, that what happened in the past is past, and that he is not bound to his sins any more. Mythal, Solas' goddess, who he literally killed, tells Solas that he is released from her service, released from the service of the Elven people, and that he can move forward, without regret. She, a god, forgives him, a man, and tells him he is free.

Immediately, the Inquisitor reinforces this statment:

"There is no fate but the love we share"

The fate that was writ for Solas: the need to tear down the Veil, to make up for all of his regrets, has been broken. "The love we share" can be, literally, the love Solas and Lavellan share, but can also be read as love for the world, that he discovered through his journeys and his experiences with the Inquisitor and Rook. They and he both know that love is real, and is the first step forward to his future.

When he cuts his hand, he almost cannot believe it himself. He turns to the Veil tear, and to those around him, and, so quickly it almost reads as impulsive, he cuts himself. As if he knows: if he does not do it now, he will not have the strength to. As if he is scared that he will fall into his pride and his regrets again. But he succeeds: he cuts himself willingly, he makes his final choice, and he accepts it, finally.

He makes the choice to atone: not bound by his regrets, but for the love for this world, a world he is finally choosing. And when the Inquisitor joins him, he is not too proud to deny them again. He is a man, once again, a man capable of change, of love, and of a new fate.

Veilguard Solas is not Trespasser Solas. While I will always be sad we did not get that version, the regretful but cuthroat, sentimental yet steady Solas that we expected and deserved, I have come to an understanding with Veilguard Solas. I see him as a man that has already resigned to his failure, but is pushed forward by his pride and regret, searching for a way to stop. And I am glad he does, and I am glad that he gets a happy ending. I am glad we have an ending to his story, even if the story is different than what we expected.

[nwarrior777]

"MainSpring Rays: The Power" Little game which play Big. Dev Team Open Call announce!

Can't believe i am saying this, but, it's actually happening! I am looking for people who would like to join to the dev team of my game!

What's even this game?

MainSpring Rays: The Power based on life of a russian immigrant [the author], wrapped in surreal metaphors on a fantasy-like word building base. Little melancholic story about everyday life horrors, with hopeful message

MSRTP is a little indie visual novel. However, it has not popular core solutions, which I, as author, wish game industry and media in general a very Right Now

The game has 3 main principles:

Accessibility Focus Disabled players are included in audience and every aspect of the game is treated with "is this accessible? yes - go, no - fix" mindset. The goal is to create the game which will be accessible by default to all known disability types - vision, hearing, motoric, with no need of extra menu options slapped on already made gameplay. To make this goal come true a lot of techniques used: not using epilepsy triggering video effects, default big fount size of game interface, Special Balance Rule, and many more (more details about it in next promo posts) I assume that there will be mistakes on that, cause i am new at coding but if to make games - only like this, so that's why one of Open Call roles is Accessibility Consultant/Tester, who needs to be of course, disabled

Representation focus Characters with various appearance features, medical conditions, all fat - all shown gorgeous and respectful even if i draw representative art for about a decade, there is Open Call role for Representation Writing Consultant because i am white and don't want to write black character badly, don't have face burn, etc it's not surprise for my audience to see these designs, but apparently the thing that characters needs to have more body types and appearance than one model for million character in one game is discovery to be made in game industry

The game is free I want to give all people chance to play no matter of their income, including income of people who can't buy even one cofee cup by month

Ok, some more important info about the game?

A little about the plot: In the game you - player (the main hero), lead small group of refugees to Light, through world which falls to darkness. You go through hells of life guiding by Light Dots on Sky, keeping warmth inside and helping each other in hard times. The ending is the only one. The Good one

It's little visual novel. It's already has working rough prototype with full written story, most of graphic is ready, text written but not edited.

So this is why we here - Open Call!

People Needed:

Voice actors (details - on castingcall.club project page, link below)

Accessibility consultants and testers (if you know coding - cool, but you can be just disabled person)

Testers (coding, bugs)

Representation Consultants

Grammar editor (my eng is my second, help)

may add more in dev process

! Unfortunatelly, it's volunteer (unpaid) work. But, if you have enough free time and passion for project of such values, it can be interesting

Contacts, if you interested:

Email: krisvolyk777@gmail.com Write with the theme "The Game"

Also, i created the page on CASTINGCALL.CLUB - you can apply there, especially on voice actors roles

So excited to post this announce! Will wait for your letters

[undertalerebirth]

Happy Halloween from Team Beginnings!

Let's get to business!

There hasn't been much progress this month but we hope to get more done in November!

[Writing]

(At the time of writing this dev log)

We've decided to go back and rewrite the script for UTBB's demo, not only that but the overall story has gone under some major rewrites including a new direction for the game and its meta narrative. You see, we’ve decided to take a more fantasy RPG like approach with Magic now being one of the core aspects of UTBB. We’re also introducing a lot more new magic based mechanics & interactions (We even switched up the UI a bit but that’s for a letter date haha).

For our metta narrative . . . Let’s just say, Reed has played Omori, In Stars & Time, Oneshot, & Slay The Princess. And remember one thing, Valor will not be a silent protagonist. You have been warned.

We've also decided to do something different with the way we execute our Cyan soul sub plot. Before cyan was going to be a full fleshed out character however there was some difficulty making it fit into the story even with the rewrites. So, we've decided to make it so we will focus on the consequence of their death/capture instead their possible actions meaning that the cyan soul will be up for interpretation (Not in the way UTY)!.

In summary: Any cyan take (That follows Omega Flowey order) can alien with UTBB's timeline now without any confections! (There’s no UTY Axis situation here lol).

And we would like to give a special shout out to the amazing @/Radiaction & Knightyume for being awesome Writing Consultants!

Also, a little bunny told me that UTBB & UTR might be doing something special together real soon so be in the look out for that 👀

Minor Change -

We've updated something about Valor. . . They're now are Genderfluid and use He/Him/She/Her/They/Them pronouns! But most characters in game will use They/Them pronouns.

[Sprite Art]

Not much, sadly, for the first half of the month our main tileset artist haven't been able to make anything due to personal IRL issues. Everything seems to be cleared up now and with the new addition of some amazing spriters joining the project (That being @/_pancakez & Tweetertweers, we're back on track and making progress.

[Characters]

Sadly, we can't show much in this department yet, but the crew has been working on designs for the main, support, & random encounters cast of characters!

We've also taken the time to redesign a character already revealed. that being - ???? (Oop, looks like he still doesn't want his name to be revealed, maybe you see it soon?)

We want to at least get battle sprites made before showing off any random encounters, sorry for the wait!

[OST Situation]

For those who don't know, we used to have a few OSTs posted on out YouTube channel, however we got into some complications with the now former team member who drew the artwork that was featured in said videos. We are happy to say that new artwork for the videos are being made as we speak!

Once it's done, we will be working towards putting the OST videos back up + the addition of a few new OSTs.

[Twitter Situation]

Due to Twitter's new policies we decided that we will no longer be posting any artwork on the platform. We have also made the decision to switch over to BlueSky since it seems to be the more healthier alternative to Twitter. We will still have the account up and running and post links to out dev post, however if things get worse then we might just ARCHIVE UTBB's twitter account, cut ties with the platform, and no longer post on it.

[Team Members]

Please welcome the following people who have recently joined Team Beginnings!

@_/pancakez 

Skitastc

Lawless

St4ngray

Tweetertweers

Yuki.b

@/Maniek_ 

And a special thanks to

dusklight_ For helping make overworld sprites for UTBB!

[Support The Team!]

[Hollow]

The Halloween special artwork was made by one of the teams amazing artist- @hollowgears! Whose commissions have opened up.

It would mean a lot if you could go and support her.

Hollows Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/hollowgears/commissions

However, she only has 2 commission slots open at the moment, so first come first serve!

[St4ngray/Ray]

One of the teams new artist @st4ngray has opened up their special keychain commissions!

Link To Card: https://st4ngray.carrd.co/#

It would be awesome if you could check them all out and lent them your support!

That's it for now, see you all next time!

[mogsk]

Key takeaways:

-Unity Personal remains free

-Any game making less than $1mil in revenue over the previous 12 months won’t be subject to the fee

-Games made using versions of Unity prior to the next LTS release will not incur the fee

-Games made prior to 2024 will no longer incur the fee unless they update to using a version of Unity released after the fees are introduced

-Devs effected by the fee will be given the choice between a 2.5% revenue share or the calculated runtime fee, both of which will rely on self-reporting, rather than some invasive means of recording user data

I’d call this a win, and I think anyone working on current projects in Unity are safe to continue doing so, but the biggest issue remaining is how this really showed their hand in how they consider their business decisions and disregard their clients in that process.

I’ve made little progress in learning how to use Unity over the ~6 years I’ve worked with it, so I can comfortably say I’m going to switch to feebly trying to figure out an open source engine, and while I do think leave-if-you-can is the safest option in the long term, I can deeply appreciate the effort and time it takes to gain proficiency in even a single engine for a lot of people.

If devs choose to stick with Unity either because it’s what they know or because their projects lock them into committing to it, don’t harass them or badger them into switching engines — I’ve already seen this happening with people with little actual skin in this game turning using Unity into some sort of moral wrong and that’s deranged!

[falaise-game]

Hi and welcome to the grand opening of the Falaise dev logs! 🎉

We are Lorem Possum, a French and American team of two! 

Today is the second anniversary of the development of our game Falaise, and so we decided to start to post weekly about our progress, tips and tricks we learn, and such. 

Falaise is a farming game about identity, what it means to belong, and the value of hope and rebuilding instead of longing for what was lost.

We aim to make something truly different, a game which centers its focus on the role of food provider, and the challenges that brings. Falaise is both a complete rethinking of the genre and a love letter to it; a demonstration that it can be so much more.

See you next week for more info!

– Zola & Mabel

[askagamedev]

Summer 2025 Game Development Student Internship Roundup, Part 1

Internship recruiting season has begun for some large game publishers and developers. This means that a number of internship opportunities for summer 2025 have been posted and will be collecting applicants. Internships are a great way to earn some experience in a professional environment and to get mentorship from those of us in the trenches. If you're a student and you have an interest in game development as a career, you should absolutely look into these.

If you know of any game development internships that aren't listed here, please tell me! I'll try to collect another batch when EA posts theirs as a follow-up.

Technical Artist Intern (Remote!)

Sound Design Intern (Remote!)

Game Design Intern

Game Engineering Intern

Data Analytics & Data Science Intern

Localization Production Intern

Environment Art Intern

Animation Intern

VFX Intern

3D Character Art Intern

Site Reliability Engineering Intern

Concept Artist Intern (Canada)

Animation Intern

VFX Intern

Game Engineering Intern

Technical Artist Intern

Threat Intelligence Analyst Intern

UI/UX Design Intern

User Research Intern

Computer Graphics Intern

Software Engineering Intern

Production & Project Management Intern

Concept Artist Intern (California)

World Designer Intern

3D Artist Intern

Animation Programmer Intern

Animation Technical Design Intern

Audio Design Intern

Backend Engineer Intern

Balance Design Intern

Character Artist Intern

Engine Programmer Intern

Environment Art Intern

Game Design Intern

Game Security Intern

Gameplay Programmer Intern

Gameplay Systems Engineer Intern

Salesforce Developer Intern

Software Engineer Intern

Environment Art Intern

Game Design Intern

Gameplay Programmer Intern

Tools Programmer Intern

Technical Artist Intern

Technical Character Animation Intern

Technology App Portfolio Intern

Tools Programmer Intern

Concept Artist Intern

At time of writing, Electronic Arts was performing maintenance on their recruiting site and should have new openings posted on November 12th 2024. I'll do a second round of internship opportunities once they post, along with Ubisoft and any others I missed.

Brush up your resume and focus on any game dev work you've done. Amateur game dev work counts! Tabletop game mastering counts! Amateur board and card game design counts! Making your own CCG fan sets or draft cube counts! Game jam work counts! These make a bigger difference when it comes to hiring than most other kinds of work experience.

If you need assistance with your resume/CV, cover letter, or have other questions, join our discord and ask. The server is full of experienced developers who can help review your materials and give you suggestions. I also suggest taking a look at my Game Career FAQ. There's a lot of answers in there already. Best of luck out there.

[Join us on Discord] and/or [Support us on Patreon]

Got a burning question you want answered?

Short questions: Ask a Game Dev on Twitter

Long questions: Ask a Game Dev on Tumblr

Frequent Questions: The FAQ

[sol-consort]

Do you think in the mass effect universe, there's like porn of every alein race having sex with humans, like a human fetish almost? I'm asking because when I was romancing Garrus in ME2 Mordin said something about sending over videos to shepard's room that would help her have sex with him, and I'm like 'what does that mean?' Are there like a lot of interspecies alien porn? Also circling back around to stuff Mordin said about the turian cum will it definitely cause an allergic reaction or is there just a chance of it? If yes, can I just swallow and have an epipen on hand?

"Can I just swallow and have an epipen on hand?" having finished typing the last paragraph of your very professional worded letter, you navigate through your omni-tool as you press the final confirmation required to send the letter directly to the Turian Embassy, signed - a very concerned human.

The next day, the Turian public affairs and foreign relationships ministry, in collaboration with the Blue Talon healthcare ministry, ensure the widespread of the Turian-Human sexual educational pamphlet... alongside complimentary epipens to all humans affected.

I'd be very disappointed in humanity if there WASN'T a porno category for us at least a couple of years in the aftermath of first contact.

Humans already have produced so much porn–the anal section alone would cost you an entire lifetime to watch through, and you wouldn't even make it halfway through the category. We've been making porn since ancient times, be it oil paintings, statues or written erotica.

There will be a flood of human porn into the galactic web once we connect our Internet to their network. And that's just human on human action!

The asari, undoubtedly, dominate the industry. The first ever published alien on human video was with an asari. The first couple hundreds were, the other species simply haven't warmed up to us yet.

However, the first homemade porn video between an alien and a human was with a turian. The first contact war forced the two species to get closer by virtue of beating the shit out of each other, it came to no one's surprise that it turned into hatefucking after the council put a stop to fighting.

The turian government tried to deny it and keep it on the down low. But seeing how human microbes being deadly to turians, and that the turians themselves found the humans irresistible and much more breedable than they'd ever admit, the government was forced into action to protect the wellbeing of its people.

Insiders encouraging the widespread of human porn, paying pornsites to host educational videos and information about a turian could safely fuck a human. "Spit, never swallow," becoming an unironic slogan used in this campaign.

Unawarly, in an attempt to preserve whatever remains of their dignity by making this whole operation an open secret; the turian government have laid the very first stones into tha paved stairwell of making the turian population to be the highest consumers of human porn.

Be it Turian/Human or else. Hell, a lot of them prefer the Asari/Human videos, claiming it's like watching their two favourite things fuck. What's better than one candy bar? Two candy bars! smushed together. In bed. The human on the receiving end preferably because turians still get a special thrill from watching the humans act submissive and be put in their place.

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At the end of the citadel mission in ME3, the devs unawarly made something very funny canon. If you're femshep and never romance anyone else through the entire game, you will wake up in bed with Javik.

This means that, canonly, the only prothean pornagrophy video to ever exist on the galactic web (Shep's house has cameras which are connected to the cloud) has been with a human.

If that doesn't cause a massive spike in the human category and make us truly rival the asari who have been oversturating the market for so long, I don't know what else does.

On a side note: geth and AI like EDI might consider the human/vibrators category to be of massive interest.

The whole myth of "did you know human women have no refactory period? They can orgasm indefinitely" spreads like widefire amongst the other races. Suddenly, everyone wants to test this out, asari scientists keep sending appeals to the human embassy despite continuous rejection.

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For the human/turian safe sex, I think making out is off the table. Even without the whole microbes thing, I'm not sure how their peak with metal plates could've worked with our soft, easily injured lips. The skin on our faces is where it's thinnest. It's very easy to scratch and scar.

Not only does Mordin mention sending you some videos, but Garrus himself brings up the fact that he watched some videos and is now ready to...relieve out stress together, if you want.

Turian cum might be bad for you to digest orally, probably trigger your immune system into a false alarm. However, luckily, the immune system is not allowed in your reproductive organs! Just a precaution fail safe measure in our design so that your immune system doesn't end up accidentally hurting your reproductive ability when it invetabily fucks up, as immune systems tend to do on occasion, also see: pollen.

So you can get creempied by Garrus–and turians in general, no risk of death, allergy, or pregnancy!

As far as I know, besides the asari being a joker card that's compatible with every race, the drell are the only safe-ish species for humans to consume all of their fluids. Be it cum, saliva or...even tears! It will only get you high. No other species experiences that with them tho, so imagine the mindfuck that is to drell.

Suddenly told that your whole existence is a psychedelic to humans, that you could get one on cloud nine by a simple kiss.

[thehallstara]

hi hello it's both itch creator day AND my birthday so this is a perfect excuse for me to do a master post of my games and zines!!!

Collabs:

Agami Village: Created with Weiwei Xu as part of last year's HES SUPERFestival, supported by Hand Eye Society and Canadian Council for the Arts. It's a short visual novel about fishing and time loops!

ghost story: A short prototype of a first person murder mystery where you're a ghost trying to solve your own murder. Done as a final project for Code Coven's Intro to Game Making course back in the winter.

(neither of these are purchasable but if you try them and like them you can always send a kofi!!)

Bitsy:

on nights we dream of stars: a semi-autobiographical story about stars. mostly just me figuring out how bitsy works.

on the nature of ghosts: small vignette about ghosts made for the february 2022 bitsy jam.

the end is near: a soliloquy about the end of the world, done for both the july 2022 bitsy jam and crabjam 2022. inspired by s24 for of blaseball but wholly independent to it.

lungs to burn: a short poem game about wildfires, grief, and queer connection done for the may 2023 bitsy jam. featured in indiepocalypse #43

no postage required: a somewhat-sequel to the end is near; or a letter to a lost love. done for the 2023 trans game dev server jam.

Twines:

cards fall where they may: anthology of interactive blaseball stories told through a tarot reading. some of the most impressive css i've done to this day, and i honestly think it's worth checking out just for that.

ablaze with the people you've been: another interactive story, this one a story about edric tosser told in four acts. still worth checking out even if you know jack shit about blaseball imo and still one of my favourite things i've ever made.

run from me or rip me open: the thing that started it all, the first game i ever made. yet another blaseball story; it's a little rough around the edges but it's got heart.

Zines:

Kriah: A personal zine about my experiences with antisemitism over the years. a heavy read but one i would implore gentiles to take a look at regardless.

square roots: made with @tigerquoii for the 2022 blaseball zine jam. a series of conversations.

and that's it!!! all of them (besides the collabs) are pay what you can, forever and always. if you've ever enjoyed something i've made, consider supporting me and my projects! and if you can't, rating and comments are always equally appreciated mwah

[wcspriter]

As mentioned before, I spent an entire week and countless hours across a version of Undertale as told by dedicated fans who spent seven years developing a massive love letter to Toby Fox in the form of Undertale Yellow. With the game turning one year old today I thought I'd weigh in my thoughts on it.

So I came into the game with an unusual task; to learn about this alternate world's lore for @vyletbunni's The Last Amalgam series (as of this post, parts one and two are officially up, part three is currently still in development). Not only did I get what I asked for but alongside @deltatraveler, it was something I think I actually needed to play. I've spent so much time on open online games that I forgot how nice it was to take it slow with something far more one-player that doesn't have a massive checklist of things for completionists. No achievements, no online mishaps, no stream system, just me and a game that took up one-fifth of a gigabyte on my drive.

The amount of work that went into this game is insane. Things that would take a pair of sprites to convey were stretched into pixel-sized animations that shows the additional lengths this team would go to telling their story. The music? I'm still going through the soundtrack on my commutes. Of course BEST FRIENDS FOREVER! is my top-most replayed song. And the (non-canon) lore? This no doubt opened the door for tons of people to make all kinds of new Undertale work and speculations off of it.

It's actually kinda hard to nitpick something super specific because I can't remember any flaws through all three playthroughs. I guess the only thing I can say is that Yellow through a curve-ball making me think that I need to first do the Neutral route on my first playthrough when "Surprise!" you're already on-route to the Pacifist ending instead. I don't know…the reveals Flowey gives you on the Neutral ending may or may not feel like required context for when you take that Pacifist route first. But that just might be the original Undertale talking to me; so some beats can be shaken up.

I do wonder how this game was handled. Seven years of development time, Toby Fox making Deltarune alongside them, most of the...admittedly weird fangames that just boil down to the fights. Actually, come to think of it, one of those Yellow devs had previously worked on Undertale Red (Red as in the fan character who made a cameo in Yellow) ended up working on base Deltarune itself!

So closing thoughts: Yeah, this DID take 7 years to make. This is a team of people who didn't get paid to work and completed a near-canon Undertale experience that captures the original game almost perfectly. The battles, the animation, the music that didn't have to hit so hard but they hit it out of the park...all in all, I kinda wish I paid for this game because the devs can still take Yellow as a stepping stone for bigger projects in their future.

...huh...I wonder...

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...yeah, I'm keeping this lmao

[sleepymarmot]

I started thinking about the book "Sithis" from Morrowind again after encountering it in another game. I said that I'd always assumed that the last part of the book, which suddenly addresses the Nerevarine/player in a highly effective jumpscare, only existed in the Nerevarine's mind. But was that last paragraph actually a hallucination, originally (and it went over the heads of the other games' devs who thoughtlessly copied the entire text?) And if not, if it was physically printed in the book, then who wrote it and why?

UESP offers an interpretation that surprised me: "Another Dunmeri mythical text claims Lorkhan was the spawn of Sithis who was sent to destroy the Mundus, Lorkhan approached Anuiel and the Eight Givers as a friend to deceive them, the text urged the figure of prophecy to approach the Sharmat Dagoth Ur and do the same". Some other people on r/teslore speculated that the book could have been written by Vivec or an anonymous Temple scholar.

That reasoning makes sense. It's straightforward: Lorkhan went to the Eight Divines as a friend with ulterior motives, and the Nerevarine should go to Dagoth Ur in the same way.

But that clashes a lot with my instinctive, emotional impression of the text. It's Dagoth Ur who is powered by Lorkhan's heart. It's Dagoth Ur who sends hospitable and seductive dreams to the Nerevarine and writes a letter in which he calls the Nerevarine "old friend" and invites them to his citadel. It's Dagoth Ur who presents his world of undead as a flourishing house: "Thus did he present himself as such to the demon Anui-El and the Eight Givers: as a friend." - "Steadfast liegeman, faithful friend, bids you come and climb Red Mountain!" - "He hears laughter and love, but he makes monsters and ghouls. He woos as a lover, but he reeks with fear and disgust." It's Dagoth Ur who confesses that he considered offering the Nerevarine a place at his side "many times".

On the other hand, the plan that was drafted by Vivec directly advises against the tactic of offering false friendship to Dagoth Ur: "Dagoth Ur should try to recruit the Nerevarine into House Dagoth. It may be possible to pretend to join him, then betray him. However, any attempt to deceive him will be very risky. House Dagoth has a tradition of subterfuge and treachery, and because he is a deceiver, he will expect deception."

It all makes much more sense if the book is an aberration of reality that directly reflects Dagoth Ur's conflicting emotions. Perhaps the original text was written by an orthodox Dunmer believer; that's not important. What is important is that "this book is always found laying open, never closed on shelves". That it addresses the Nerevarine as directly and forcefully as the dreams sent to them. It is simultaneously a plea, an invitation, a warning, and a threat. One that latches onto a preexisting text, using it to emerge from the unconscious world into the real. "Friend". You have an old friend too, don't you remember? Go to him. He's been waiting a long time. Do you trust him? You shouldn't. Go anyway.