#SCAFFOLDING FACTORY

[tianjinwellmadescaffold]

Scaffold Base Plate Manufacturing - Fixed Base Plates - Wellmade China

[vanpeltfoto]

Industry

(Photo: d.)

[stew-chan]

satisfactory..... hard T~T

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

🧪 Character Arcs 101: what they are, what they aren’t, and how to make them hurt

by rin t. (resident chaos scribe of thewriteadviceforwriters)

Okay so here’s the thing. You can give me all the pretty pinterest moodboards and soft trauma playlists in the world, but if your character doesn’t change, I will send them back to the factory.

Let’s talk about character arcs. Not vibes. Not tragic backstory flavoring. Actual. Arcs. (It hurts but we’ll get through it together.)

─────── ✦ ───────

💡 what a character arc IS:

a transformational journey (keyword: transformation)

the internal response to external pressure (aka plot consequences)

a shift in worldview, behavior, belief, self-concept

the emotional architecture of your story

the reason we care

💥 what a character arc is NOT:

a sad monologue halfway through act 2

a single cool scene where they yell or cry

a moral they magically learn by the end

a “development” label slapped on a flatline

─────── ✦ ───────

✨ THE 3 BASIC FLAVORS OF ARC (and how to emotionally damage your characters accordingly):

Positive Arc They start with a flaw, false belief, or fear that limits them. Through the events of the story (and many Ls), they confront that internal lie, grow, and emerge changed. Hurt factor: Drag them through the mud. Make them fight to believe in themselves. Break their trust, make them doubt. Let them earn their ending.

Negative Arc They begin whole(ish) and devolve. They fail to overcome their flaw or false belief. This arc ends in ruin, corruption, or defeat. Hurt factor: Let them almost have a chance. Build hope. Then show how they sabotage it, or how the world takes it anyway. Twist the knife.

Flat/Static Arc They don’t change, but the world around them does. They hold onto a core truth, and it’s their constancy that drives change in others. Think: mentor, revolutionary, or truth-teller type. Hurt factor: Make the world push back. Make their values cost them something. The tension comes from holding steady in chaos.

─────── ✦ ───────

🎯 how to build an arc that actually HITS (no ✨soft lessons✨, just internal structure):

Lie they believe: What false thing do they think about themselves or the world? (“I’m unlovable.” “Power = safety.” “I’m only valuable if I’m useful.”)

Want vs. need: What do they think they want? What do they actually need to grow?

Wound/backstory scar: What made them like this? You don’t need a tragic past™ but you do need cause and effect.

Turning point: What moment forces them to question their worldview? What event cracks the surface?

Moment of choice: Do they change? Or not? What decision seals their arc?

🧪 Pro tip: this is not a worksheet. This is scaffolding. The arc lives in the story, not just your doc notes. The lie isn’t revealed in a monologue, it’s felt through consequences, relationships, mistakes.

─────── ✦ ───────

🛠️ things to actually do with this:

Write scenes where the character’s flaw messes things up. Like, they lose something. A person. A plan. Their cool. Make the flaw hurt.

Track their beliefs like a timeline. How do they start? What chips away at it? When does the shift stick?

Use relationships as arc mirrors. Who challenges them? Enables them? Forces reflection? Internal change is almost never solo.

Revisit the lie. Circle back to it at least three times in escalating intensity. Reminder > confrontation > transformation.

─────── ✦ ───────

🌊 bonus pain level: REVERSE THE ARC

Wanna make it really hurt? Set them up for one arc, and give them the opposite. They think they’re growing into a better person. But actually, they’re losing themselves. They think they’re spiraling. But they’re really healing. Let them be surprised. Let the reader be surprised.

─────── ✦ ───────

TL;DR: If your plot is a skeleton, your character arc is the nervous system.

The change is the thing. Don’t just dress it up in trauma. Don’t let your character learn nothing. Make them face themselves. And yeah. Make it hurt a little. (Or a lot. I won’t stop you.)

—rin t. // thewriteadviceforwriters // plotting pain professionally since forever

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

[violent138]

Accountant: "Where's all this money even going? Burning cash by the handful would cost less than this. I mean, your records don't even make sense! Like this factory order for three crates worth of... masks?"

Alfred: "Master Bruce accidentally added a zero or two for a masquerade party order."

Accountant, in disbelief: "Custom made. Out of some material, I can't even pronounce."

Alfred: "He's highly specific about these things."

Accountant: "You know, Mr.Pennyworth, it's Gotham, just level with me if it's something we don't need to know about."

Alfred, sighing and playing it up: "I'm afraid so, he's in the habit of making dangerous friends."

Accountant: "Whatever, let's just discuss something that we can sort out without him. Like the upkeep on the Manor."

Alfred: "We recently renovated."

Accountant: "What exactly? I'm seeing costs for construction materials, submersible pumps, and scaffolding. But the property's valuation hasn't changed, at all."

Alfred: "To the untrained eye, it looks unchanged, but I can assure you, the very foundations of this place have been altered."

Accountant:

Accountant, exasperated: "Moving on, let's discuss your salary. I'm not trying to insult you, but I honestly don't know what to make of this amount--"

Alfred: "I set my own salary, actually."

Accountant:

[ohcorny]

bg3 spoilers

every time i consider returning to baldur's gate 3 for another playthrough i remember how on my first (only) playthrough in act 3, when you cross over into the city and you get that 3 day time limit before an execution and you're supposed to go see gortash, i fully skipped it and went to go do all the quests in the city first. because i thought 'oh, he'll have the robots. if i go wreck the robot factory, he can't use them in the fight. and if i go save the gnomes from the prison, he can't threaten me with killing them. i am so smart :)'

reader? you are not supposed to do this, and the game doesn't know what to do if you do this. because wyll's dad is supposed to be in the gnome prison. but he isn't there if you don't go to gortash's thing. but the game thinks he's there. so when the gnome prison blows up, even if you got all the gnomes out, the game decides wyll's dad is dead. you are locked out of any plot progression involving wyll or his dad. wyll is bugged and you cannot talk to him about anything.

and if you do the robot factory without seeing gortash, it bugs him out when you do finally go to see him. he won't be in the throne room at all, he's up in some rooms you have to do insane scaffolding platforming to get to, and then he doesn't talk to you. it's straight into a fight. and i have to assume his whole arc being bugged out is why i never found a way to save karlach and she blew up at the end of my run. sorry karlach.

they really should have just kept the drawbridge to the city up if it would break the game to skip that event

[agbpaints]

Oh the Hellspawn. Another 'mech brought to us by FASA Interactive which was later ported back into the construction rules of Classic Battletech, basically all of the discussion I've found online about the HSN-xx is largely negative, and while I don't necessarily disagree with a lot of the criticism I do think it's a design worth taking a look at.

In the late 3050s the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns determined that their aging fleet of Dervish fast fire support mechs was due for a replacement, having served since the times of the Star League and grown quite obsolete in the intervening centuries. General Motors won the contract to produce the new 'mech in 3060 with their Hellspawn concept, a design that promised to excede the capabilities of the existing DV marks significantly as both a lightweight fire support unit and an interdictor to handle light mechs and C3 spotters used by the Combine. The first 'mechs walked off of the line on Talcott in 3062 into the looming clusterfuck of the FedCom Civil War.

The initial HSN-7D that GM produced on Talcott sets a strong design language regrettably followed by the majority of Hellspawn variants. Weighing 45 tons, the 7D is scaffolded with a GM M-type endosteel chassis and powered by an in-house produced 270 XL fusion engine with 6 jump jets mounted between the side torsos. Dalban provided the electronics system, including an Guardian ECM suite to allow the HSN to add e-war missions to its repertoire. The offensive payload is actually pretty impressive for its weight class- the HSN-7D is armed with a pair of LRM-10s split between the right arm and left torso and supplied by 2 tons of ammunition, supported by three medium pulse lasers mounted on the arms and torso.

Of course, this level of mobility and weaponry comes at a cost- the original production Hellspawn only mounts 6.5 tons of armor. This is less than 70% of the total possible belt and dangerously close to Hellbringer levels of protection. All three torsos can be breached by a gauss rifle slug immediately. GM also neglected th mount CASE on their design, making the already fragile mech highly susceptible to total loss from ammo explosions in the field.

Reactions in the field from AFFS units were... poor. It was immediately apparent that the brass had handed GM the deal without actually considering what was being proposed to them. The Hellspawn's added interdiction capabilities did not offset the 'mech's abysmal protection and the fiddly engine and electronics suites required constant maintenance and parts to keep operational. The 15 year old Dervish 7D was generally favored by pilots and quartermasters- the standard fusion engine meant replacement parts were less expensive and the thicker armor and CASE-protected ammunition bays meant that mechwarriors were less likely to come to understand the workings of their ride's ejector seats personally.

In the face of their product's poor reputation, GM did no soul searching in the following years and instead chose to double down. Introduced in 3068, the HSN-8E did nothing to alter the mech's survivability, instead opting to exchange the arm-mounted pulse lasers for ER models in order to add Artemis firce control systems to the missile launchers. This nominally improves the 'mech's long range damage but in the leadup to the e-war spaked battlefields of the Jihad spending two tons on a 'mech with questionable armor to improve its direct fire capabilities is questionable. The same year GM also released the 9F, a worse than useless refit that removes the ECM suite, a laser, both of the LRM racks, and a half ton of armor (bringing us to 63% belt capacity) in exchange for a pair of MRM-20s. Again, *these are factory refit options from GM*. Someone at the Talcott plant must've been a plant by LOKI because I have no explanation for the AFFS deciding to take delivery of this shit except for a Lyran spy ring.

Luckily worse fortunes for the Inner Sphere led to better mechs. The Talcott plant was bombed by the Blakists during the early stages of the Jihad and presumably one of the casualties in that tragedy was the original design team for the Hellspawn. Shame. When production resumed in 3076, GM introduced a new variant that finally addressed the concerns of the original HSN models, the 10G. One jump jet and the ECM suite have been removed, the LRM launchers have been replaced by a pair of MML-7 variable missile launch systems fed by 3 tons of ammunition and the torso laser has been replaced by a light PPC. While CASE is still absent, light ferro-fibrous armor has been mounted and total protection has been increased to 7.5 tons--this gauss-proofs the torsos and brings the total belt to 83% protection. This is the variant I'm personally most familiar with and I find it a pleasant design to use: the long range damage is similar to the original 7D model but the short range potential throw weight of the MMLs and pulse lasers is brutal and the 3rd ton of ammo allows the 10G to mount inferno munitions alongside standard SRMs and LRMs, making it a general menace to heat hogs and conventional forces.

The final production variant is the 10SR, which focuses on developing the Hellspawn's role as a fast scout. The missiles have been removed completely in favor of paired ER medium lasers and light PPCs in the arms, a light active probe and TAG artillery designator have been added to support the ECM suite, the standard jump jets have been replaced with 8 improved models, and the armor belt has been increased to 9 tons. The 10SR is an incredibly slippery forward scout, combining the durability of a medium mech with the air mobility of a Spider

Overall, discussion focuses on the pre-3070 designs of the Hellspawn, which is understandable given the aversion many Battletech players have to the Jihad and Dark Ages, but a shame because it overlooks a very nice little chassis. With the proliferation of mixed tech designs a "modern" 315x variant of the HSN could likely do some very interesting stuff with the Chassis, possibly flipping the script and mounting clan ER lasers as the long range weapons while turning the missiles into a close-up compliment. If nothing else I hope more people do decide to pick up the 10G- it's a legitimately fanrastic little bodyguard and bully and I've thoroughly enjoyed running it.

[ornii]

Oh, The Misery Part 11: “The Big, Bad, Wolf”

Boots thundered through the narrow alleys of Zaun, black coats trailing behind them like storm clouds. The Iron Guard cut through the streets with swift, surgical precision — shield charges, concussive rounds, and the hiss of Hextech weaponry humming like a warning bell through the district.

Smoke curled from broken shimmer labs. Cracked neon signs flickered weakly above. Civilians cowered behind crates and barrels, watching the march of Piltover’s finest with a mix of fear and bitter understanding.

The first factory was tucked behind a false wall in an abandoned storefront — standard Zaun camouflage. (Y/n), Vi and Cait approached and gently knocked on it, hollow. (Y/n) nodded and they went back, suddenly Vi blew the door clean off its hinges with one punch. The moment it clattered to the floor, the Iron Guard flooded in like a wave.

Smoke and shimmer fumes choked the air. Workers scrambled to hide, but the enforcers were faster.

(Y/n) Led the charge, shield raised. A guard lunged with a jagged blade — he caught it on the rim of his shield and twisted, flipping the attacker over his shoulder with brutal efficiency. He ducked low under another swing, driving him up with a solid uppercut.

To his right, Caitlyn moved with sniper precision, her rifle cracking once, twice — non-lethal rounds that hit center mass and dropped shimmer-thugs before they could reach their weapons. Her eyes stayed cold, focused.

Vi bulldozed through a stack of crates and sent three goons flying. She sighed — short, savage — before shoulder-checking another into a steel pipe. “How many damn factories are they hiding down here?”

From above, Maddie dropped from a scaffold and rolled, slicing the fuel line of a shimmer pipe with a spark-stick. “Too many. But this one’s about to light up!”

(Y/n) glanced at her. “Evac route?”

Maddie grinned. “Out the back, darling. I never come unprepared.”

Behind them, Loris and the Fishman held the line at the entrance, holding back shimmer-enhanced enforcers with a mix of heavy fire and brutal crowd control.

(Y/n) paused for a moment, glancing around the half-lit lab — canisters bubbling, crates marked with Silco’s faded insignia, shattered glass strewn across the floor. Another nest rooted out. Another piece of rot excised.

“Let’s go.”

As they filed out, the shimmer lab went up in blue flames behind them — not vengeance, not cruelty. Just justice, roaring.

And somewhere in the smoke, a shadow was watching. Waiting.

The Iron Guard advanced through the labyrinthine alleys of Zaun, their boots echoing against the damp cobblestones. The air was thick with the acrid scent of shimmer and industrial decay.

Later, Ahead, a makeshift barricade loomed—rusted metal sheets welded together, adorned with the crude insignia of Smeech: a stylized gear entwined with a serpent. Behind it, a group of his enforcers lounged, their cybernetic limbs glinting under the dim streetlights.

Cait raised a hand, signaling a halt. She stepped forward, gun at the ready.

“Stand down,” she called out. “We’re here for Jinx. No need for unnecessary bloodshed.”

One of the goons, a hulking figure with a mechanical jaw, sneered. “Orders are orders. No one passes without Smeech’s say-so.”

Vi stepped beside Cait, her fists trained on the barricade. “Then consider this your notice.”

With a swift motion, Vi charged, her gauntlets smashing through the barricade like paper. The ensuing skirmish was brief but intense. The Iron Guard moved with practiced precision, subduing the henchmen without lethal force.

As the dust settled, (Y:n) approached the leader, now groaning on the ground. “Tell Smeech this shit is over.@

The man spat blood, chuckling. “You think taking down a few of us changes anything? Smeech has eyes everywhere.”

“Hm.. guess you’re right.” (Y/n) cocked back his fist and for the goon it all went black.

…

The Iron Guard regrouped inside a rundown warehouse after the skirmish, the battered enforcer from Smeech’s gang bound to a support beam with reinforced cuffs. He was bleeding from the mouth but still wore a defiant smirk — the kind only the desperate could muster.

Caitlyn paced in front of him, her tone cold. “Where is she?”

The man scoffed. “You’ll need to be more specific, sheriff. I work with a lot of ‘shes.’”

Cait jammed the butt of her rifle against the wall beside his head. “Jinx. Where is Powder?”

Vi stepped in, arms folded, trying a softer angle. “Look, we’re not here to make this worse than it needs to be. You help us, we let you go”

The man chuckled, blood trickling from the corner of his lip. “Smeech doesn’t make deals. He takes pieces. Bit by bit.”

(Y/n) stepped forward, voice steady but low. “You’re not walking out of this unless you start talking. You’ve seen what shimmer’s done to this place. You’ve seen what she’s done. If you know something — anything — that can stop this, then you owe that much to Zaun. And if you don’t..”

There was a pause, but the Man shook his head “You think you scare me? I’ve had shimmer coursing through my veins longer than you’ve been breathing smoke down here.”

(Y/n) calmly stepped forward, slow and deliberate. His eyes were quiet — too quiet.

“..You ever see what Hextech can do to someone?” he asked.

The thug paused, the smirk faltering just slightly.

(Y/‘) raised his metal arm — Aegis, gleaming with new polished plates and fine engravings — and reached for a loose piece of broken cinderblock from the debris-strewn floor. Without another word, he clenched his fist around the chunk and squeezed. “It’s strong, stronger than human bone and tissue.

The stone let out a shrill crack, splintering as it caved under the pressure. In seconds, it crumbled into dust, dripping between the seams of (Y/n) fingers. “I can spent the rest of the night tuning every last bone in your body into dust like that. There’s two hundred and six, it’s gonna take a while.”

More silence.

Finally, he relented with a grunt. “Smeech’s got ears everywhere… but lately? He’s been real interested in making a deal with Sevika. Said Jinx was his ticket, everyone’s ticket— the only one wild enough to get what he needs. Rumor is there was noise up in the North Ward two nights ago. Screams. Lights. Nobody went near it since.”

(Y/n) exchanged a glance with Cait and Vi. “North Ward,” he echoed. “So?” He turned to Cait. “..Let’s go.”

The group head to the north ward. A mix of an old industrial district for big work down in Zaun, now run dry. The group make way though the misty place to find any trace of what could have happened. (Y/n) spots green mist coming from a building and points.

They all make way though and prepare, anything could be there. Stepping inside cautiously they came across a body, living he was tired to a wind turbine that’s fallen. Coated in dust and paint. They release him and give the presumed innocent man a kindness, by sitting him down.

“Thanks. I thought I was a goner.”

“You're Smeech's man.” Vi points out, noting his clothing.

“Was. Not anymore. Name's Heenot. I...” Heenot sneezes hard.

“Oh, I decided it was time for me to retire.”

“Looks more like someone decided to retire you.” (Y/n) said, looking him over. Weary, tired.

“Yeah, well, timing was never my strong...”

he sneezes again.

“Sorry. Sorry, it's... It's the Grey. It gives me the...”

“Tell us how you wound up here.” Cait drew her gun on him.

“Hey, wait, wait. Jinx is off the rails, even for her. She's got a real fire lit under her ass. She's planning something big, right here in the pipeworks. She was headed towards the old tunnels up on the North Ward, Something about rerouting the vents.” He explained, (Y/n) and Vi looked at each other, a bit confused on why she’s going there.

“This is it, then. Cuff him.” Cait said sternly.

“Hey, I told you everything I know.”

“You're a confessed criminal. You'll spend your retirement in a cell. Check your gear. This is what we've trained for.” Before Cait could move, a hand grabbed hers. Vi.

“Can I get a minute?” She asked, Cait stared for a second before relenting and they walked away. In a building and up some stairs.

They stand across from each other and Vi opens up first.

“We should cut the others loose.” She starts which Cait scoffs at.

“Listen, if that Heenot idiot is telling the truth, Jinx is gonna have surprises in store for us.”

“All the more reason to bring backup.”

“She'll smell their nerves a mile away and find a way to use them against us. Tell me I'm wrong.” Vi made a good point, it was silent. Cait shook her head, desperation filling her heart.

“I can't let her get away again. Are you sure you're ready to—“

“My sister is gone. There's only Jinx now. It has to end. I'm so sorry about your mother. I'm sorry I can't bring her back, but please just... Everyone in my life has changed. Promise me you won't change.”

…

(Y/n) paced back and forth, Maddie watching him with interest. “Any word from Commander and Vi?”

“No… I’ll go get them, You and the others take him back to topside. We’ll decide Jinx.”

“You sure about this?” She replied, he took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, just.. be careful”

“You too Captain.” Maddie smiled, watching him go towards the building. The silence between Vi and Caitlyn is broken by …

A kiss

Gentle, intimate, a moment stolen in the aftermath of battle. Then—

Crunch, Boot on Glass, the two stop as they looked down to (Y/n). He sees them. He says nothing at first. Just a long, quiet look.

“(Y/n)—“ Cait began but, (Y/n) raises a hand, just slightly. Never out of anger. In acknowledgment.

“The others are moving Hennot back to Topside, we’re clear to go after Jinx.” He says.

A beat. Caitlyn nods. She walks past him with barely a glance, brushing against his shoulder as she leaves.

Vi lingers, unsure. It’s awkward for the pseudo-siblings, and Vi tries to clear the air

“I didn’t mean for you to—“

“Please. We can talk later.” She watches him, searching for any resentment. But he smiles—a weak, tired thing meant to reassure her. She nods and follows Caitlyn out. Left alone in the doorway, he stands still for a moment. His smirk fades. His shoulders fall. His eyes lower.

The three meet in the final confrontation. An old building of memory and worship, they have a plan set up. (Y/n) to be the Bair and Jinx to attack, if Cait can get a clean shot, it’s over. He approaches the large stone podium. He looks around the thinning mist. A voice came to bellow in his ear

“Oh My, my… what big hands you have now, (Y/n).” A mocking tone came from Jinx.

(Y/n) stops. His grip tightens on the shield.

“What big arms you’ve built. What big plans you’ve made.” She says still in that whimsical mocking tone.

“All the better to crush me with, huh?”

He doesn’t rise to the bait. His expression stays cold, focused.

“I’m not here to play.”

“You aren’t wrong, Guess there really isn't a crack in the earth where you won't find me.” Jinx’s voice came from the mist. (Y/n) turned, searching for its origin.

“What is this place?”

“Don't you remember the old Janna bedtime stories Vander used to tell us? Miners trapped underground. Air running thin! But then some wispy wind woman wafts to their rescue. Wild the kind of crap people get up to when you choke them out… I didn’t think you’d come.” Jinx admits. He saw her finally stepping out of the mist slightly.

“I shouldn’t have to.” He replied, She flinches, but not physically, but something in her eyes. She tries to smile.

“So this is it, huh? All roads lead here?”

He looks past her—at the girl she used to be. The friend. The sister.

“We should have stopped this a long time ago.”

“Yeah.” She said with a dry chuckle.

A breath.

“(Y/n)… I’m sorry. For all of it.”

He nods—tight, controlled. The words catch in his throat.

“Me too.”

A long silence. Then, the wind shifts. Vi’s hand tenses on her gauntlet.

“I..I wish things were different. You know that, I.. never, ever want to do this but, I can’t let you keep hurting people.”

“I know. I know, heh, there you go being the hero..” She grips her weapon tighter. And in turn slowly raises his shield.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.. I know you're sweet on her. Hope you got a chance to, you know.. Before...”

He hears a shuffle behind him. And metal, he turned to see Sevika entering the fray with Vi and Cait, he suddenly hears the turning of metal and turned back to Jinx.

Jinx opens fire with her minigun, the barrels spinning like a banshee’s wail. The rounds tear through the fog, chewing up stone and steel. (Y/n) dives behind his shield, the metal ringing with each impact. Sparks fly. He’s forced back, step by step, boots skidding against the cracked ground.

“You rigged the whole damn place…”

As he ducks behind a crumbled pillar, a click echoes near his foot and BOOM! A rigged monkey grenade explodes, sending him flying back. He lands hard, groaning, his shield flung from his grip. Jinx cackles from above, and fires again—this time with a rocket that (Y/n) barely manages to avoid. The impact leaves a crater behind him. He rolls, grabs a chunk of debris, and hurls it. Jinx dodges effortlessly, leaping to higher ground. He then hurls the shield, it cracks a pipe under her forcing Jinx to go back to ground.

She keeps firing, but (Y/n) is adapting now. Each bullet strike against his shield fuels his momentum. Step by step, he advances through the barrage like a juggernaut—unstoppable. With a roar, he slams the edge of his shield into the ground, anchoring himself.

He charges. The minigun’s whir sputters—ammo spent. Jinx’s eyes widen.

“Uh-oh.”

He throws his shield and a loud—WHAM!—it clips her shoulder, spinning her off balance. He follows up, slamming into her with a brutal shoulder tackle that sends her crashing through a stack of rusted pipes. The minigun skitters across the floor, useless now.

Jinx coughs, dazed. (Y/n) grabs her by the collar, lifting her up. There’s a flicker in his eyes—pain. Conflict.

“You could’ve walked away, you’re under—“

A fist the size of a small boulder blindsides him, sending him flying into a concrete wall. A crater forms around him as he hits, gasping for air. Standing between him and Jinx now—

SEVIKA.

Smoke rises off her gauntlet. Her new crude and shark mouthed, mechanical arm hisses with steam, eyes burning with hatred.

“Remember me?” She sneered.

He slumps, winded—but not broken. Before Sevika can finish him—

Caitlyn’s rifle cracks, forcing Sevika back as VI rockets in with a gauntlet-powered punch. She crashes into Sevika, and the two brawl savagely as Cait takes a crack at Jinx. Shooting, but Jinx was still too much for her to handle is getting overwhelmed. (Y/n) charged in with zero hesitation. He leapt at her and she did in kind. The two clash and he counters her punch with a Judo Throw into the stone pedestal, he went full Mount and cocked his fist back. He looked his former sister in the eye, both are, hurt.

“Do it. It’s okay.” Jinx whispered. (Y/n) closed his eyes and prepared to end it all, until he felt the barrel of steel at his chin. He opened his eyes and saw, a child, protecting Jinx. He hesitated.

“What are you...?” Jinx said. “Move. Now.” He said to the child, her hand shaking at the gun.

“Get away from her.” Cait rains her gun.

“Cait. Cait, she's a fucking child!”

“Move. She's not getting away again!”

(Y/n) filled with pain and desperation smacked the gun out of her hand and yanked the child off, he cocked his hand back one last time. Just as he does, the hex crystal in his arm malfunctions, and gives Jinx a split second.

BANG.

Everything stops. He breath catches. He looks down—blood soaks through his armor. As she landed it square in between a plate, His eyes lock with Jinx’s. Her expression crumples.

(Y/n) couldn’t go for another swing, collapses off the pedestal. The shield drops with a metallic clunk.

“I—I didn’t want to—” Jinx, maybe in that moment realized just what she did. The gun falls from her fingers. Her lips tremble. She remembers Silco. She remembers his last breath. And now.. his.

“It’s— it’s okay, it.. had to end this way.. right?” He Gave a weak smile, a trail of blood finally trickled from his cheek as he fell over.

“No… no no no—”

(Y/n) rolled on his back, and watched the light slowly begin to dim. Ringing bellows though his ears. It all felt so, unreal. Disorted and unrecognizable faces surround him, death. It was coming, he faded in and out of consciousness.

The vision is drenched in smoke, the sound muffled like he’s underwater. All color is muted save for the slowly fading orange glow of distant flames.

The last visage was of Jinx, fleeing into shadow, cradling Isha. She looked back once more, guilt finally hitting her, Her figure fades, swallowed by the smoke. He slowly blinks, for what felt like seconds was possibly minutes, Cait and Vi arguing,

Then—a sharp tug. He’s being dragged. His shield scraping across stone. The cold pavement beneath his body. Caitlyn was dragging him, her face strained with fury and grief, dragging his limp form across rubble, tears mixing with soot.

It was all he remembered before it went black.

It was a blur waking up, his eyes met the pale roof of a hospital room. Bandages wrap his torso, and his arm—Aegis—sits offline on the stand beside him, dim.

His brow furrows. A soft grunt escapes his lips as he stirs, trying to make sense of his current predicament.

A shape shifts beside him. maddie, seated in a simple chair, straightens, setting down a steaming mug. She wears her Iron Hounds Enforcer jacket unzipped, her posture formal, but her eyes are tired. Watching him.

“Captain.” She said.

“You’re.. Still calling me that?” He replied, glad to see at least a familiar face.

“Until you tell me not to.”

He tries to sit up and winces. Maddie instinctively moves forward, steadying him. Their eyes meet—close, too close for a breath.

“How long?”

“Two days. You lost a lot of blood, bullet clipped your liver. Commander and I got you out… barely.”

A pause.

“Vi?” He muttered, Maddie hesitates, then shakes her head once.

“We haven’t seen her since the fallout. She and Cait had a fight… a bad one. Vi disappeared. No trail. No word.”

He leans back, eyes to the ceiling. He doesn’t speak. The silence between them stretches, not awkward, but heavy with what’s unsaid.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself. You made the call no one else could.”

“I could’ve ended it. I should’ve. But I hesitated—because I saw her. Not Jinx. Not this killer. I saw Powder. I— I saw my little sister and I was gonna kill her..”

His voice cracking, he shook his head.

“I’m so tired of losing people.”

Maddie doesn’t hesitate. She steps forward and kneels beside the bed, gripping the edge. Her face softer now.

“You haven’t lost everyone.”

(Y/n) turns his head slightly toward her—and then, slowly, he reaches his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close.

“Thank you.”

At first, it’s just a hug. Quiet. A bit awkward. Then he clutches her tighter, needing the contact more than he’d admit. Maddie wraps her arms around him carefully, mindful of his wounds, her cheek against his chest.

The closeness lingers. A quiet breath between them. A shared heartbeat.

“You don’t have to carry this alone.” She whispered.

He shifts, brushing a hand along her back. His voice low, barely audible.

“With.. you..”

Their faces close. Eyes meet. Tension thick in the air. Maddie leans forward slightly, her lips brushing his—but then—

He winces, gasping softly. The wound flares again. He grips his side. Maddie stops, she pulls back gently, resting her forehead against his. A smile, warm and faint.

“When you’re you know… maybe we pick this up.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

They hold each other a moment longer. Until he spoke up, a question he needed answered. “Maddie, can you take me to Caitlyn?”

Still in his medical clothes, Maddie wrapped his enforcer coat around him and helped him up. And slowly made way towards the crestfallen Council room. The remaining council members, officials, and others presided over it. He stepped— no, limped in. And stood with the enforcers. Cait was a bit shocked to see him, but was too preoccupied by the beginning of a speech, by councilor Salo.

“Thank you all for answering my summons. I've come to trust the expertise of Ambessa Medarda. You no doubt recognize the name. She's just shared with me some very upsetting, but sadly unsurprising, news.” He began, Ambessa began as she stood before them all.

“Good evening.!Yesterday I met!with your guild merchant Amara. We spoke of rebuilding, restoring this great city to its former glory, when two Zaunite assassins fell upon us. I tried to save her. But the blade pierced her heart.”

Murmurs come in droves.

“Our families should not need fear an assassin's dagger in the night. It's time to end this. You've given Zaun opportunity after opportunity to repair their wrongs, and how have they answered? Half your council is dead. Your memorial is made a massacre. Well, no more. Wrath must be met with wrath. You must declare martial law. Appoint a general to lead until this threat is vanquished. Someone who will not pale when faced with Zaun's degeneracy. Whose conviction never wavers. A pillar of your community whose house has always stood for progress. Who may consider my experience and my entire detachment of Noxian soldiers at their disposal. Until all our families are safe. Of course, I could only be referring to...

Caitlyn Kiramman.”

Salo was shocked, it seemed this wasn’t his idea. (Y/n) looked at Cait with shock, who also was. Suddenly, the Noxian solders began to beat their chest in unison in a thunderous show of defiance and power.

Ambessa then approached Cait.

“Come, child. Your mother will have justice. I swear it.”

(Y/n) then looked back at Cait. Expecting a No. shocked, (Y/n) watched as She Places her fist over her chest as well, the thumps stop.

The Law has been Laid.

The Banners of War are raised.

This, is the beginning of the End.

[fiuworks]

What is the dynamics between each of your tla entities oc?

There's some of them who are next to each other in the drawing, does that represent something?

Some of their stories are more intertwined than others!

Roman is a former (and extremely conditioned) member of the People’s Church, and when the Church fell apart, he found independence, and also found love in aspiring archeological thesis writer Gail! Their romance is brief and passionate, until the death of Gail in an illegal cave ruin expedition that causes him to be crushed under a collapsing wall. Roman uses the Dark’s power to comfort Gail in his last moments, and then afterward in his grief submits his body to the Church as a new vessel, in hopes to re-ignite the cult and lose himself completely.

I think these three are some of my oldest ocs, and can be found under the #laika fear of flying TMA tag!

Santiago fell to the corruption when he accompanied his scientist brother into the Amazon on a trip, and got lost in the jungle and bitten to hell by mosquitos. He found himself enamoured by the life cycle of mosquitos and how they spread and survive, and went back to camp and felt compelled to drink all the vials containing all kinds of bug samples and experiments his brother was working on. Shocked at his survival, his brother begs him to test on him, but by the next morning, his brother is dead. Enthralled by the Corruption and living his best life, Santiago later joins Hermes’ permanent crew- and spends his days making passengers lives miserable.

Marina was born in a thriving community in croatia in the 60's that she slowly watched descend into gentrification and those she loved began to starve and die and so she decides to confront some of the buisness owners in their factory and mid heated conversation an oil tank bursts, killing the men she was talking to and so she flees but everywhere she goes she's overwhelmed by the effect rapid gentrification is having on society at large and in the mid 80's ends up by sewage pipes at the sea's edge and starves to death inside of one, but is brought back by the extinction, which claims her, and she's kept alive by the vigour of haunting mankind of their mistakes and inevitable deaths. She later joins Hermes’ airline crew.

Hermes always liked to roam and had big dreams of being a pilot but was very quiet and bullied on a bit by his two older brothers, but on a trip to the shard (tallest skyscraper in london) when he was 17, his eldest brother cabhan goaded him to go up the scaffolding ladders on the building onto the maintenance platform and as hermes is savouring the veiw, cabhan pushes him off. however, hermes miraculously survives the fall after failing to see the ground or the sky for what feels like hours, and suddenly finds himself injured on the ground. after recovery, he enters university and then flight training but the day before he gets his results, he tests what he experienced by jumping off another skyscraper and the sky 'catches' him again and he keeps testing it and realises he can do this to other people, and then when he becomes a pilot, realises he can do it to passengers, too

Hermes starts his own flight company, and hires two people first, two people hes met through various flights and who have since become his lovers over time- santiago and marina. hermes scouts budding avatars and those marked by the fears as well as normal flight attendants and such and has created the most efficient airborne system for harvesting and feeding off of fears.

(marina gives sleeping passengers or passengers watching movies imagery of plane crashes and emissions, santiago messes with the plane food and drink and the quality of the plane or illness in surrounding passengers, and hermes loves flinging people into the vast)

I love this evil throuple they’re great ❤️

A devoted, married pair of biologists who go down a dangerous spiral of seeing how far skin graft developments can go- and when no subject wants to come near them for fear of getting too familiar with the brains and bodies of animals, the Wilsons turn the scalpels on themselves. These days, they seem to act just a little off. Almost as if they’re the same person. However- nobody sees them enough to know for sure.

Two friends who started a rock duet, Miss Direction, rocket to stardom in their mid twenties. However, as their fame increases, their need to have control over the other does too. It reaches a breaking point, and while Rina is supposedly weak and pliable, Danys attempts to take their own eyes out to put them in Rina’s body. However, Rina sees this coming from miles away, and at the last second implants one of her eyes into Danys. Danys is now a lifeless puppet who is stuck watching their body move, as Rina gets exactly what she wants.

but yeah those lot are very interlinked! I do have a joke between Victoria and Uriah, as Uriah uses the Spiral to make pottery out of people and abstract their self-image into obscurity, and Victoria is a famous nude painting model who uses the Eye to embed her Oversight into any painting made of her and compel her artists into telling her their life stories, so the fact that Victoria and Uriah could cancel eachother out and have beef amuses me greatly

But yeah LOL soz for the infodump

[bodyalive]

“Our brains are (by nature) unusually plastic; their biologically proper functioning has always involved the recruitment and exploitation of nonbiological props and scaffolds. More so than any other creature on the planet, we humans emerge as natural-born cyborgs, factory-tweaked and primed so as to be ready to grow into extended cognitive and computational architectures—ones whose systemic boundaries far exceed those of skin and skull.”

— Andy Clark in The new humanists: science at the Edge

[tianjinwellmadescaffold]

Scaffold U Head Manufacturing (Robot) - Wellmade China - Crab 60 Shoring...

[nagler]

Why Did I Spend All This Time Looking At Building Permits For 530 West 27th Street?

With the imminent close of Sleep No More in under a week's time, I found myself interested in when the idea of The McKittrick came into being. The McKittrick itself is a New York invention. The Boston production in its refurbished school setting didn't have The Hotel. But The Hotel is obviously not actually a hotel, it's three nightclubs wearing a trench coat consolidated into a single building. But when did that consolidation take place?

Thanks to a post on Reddit where I wound up musing about the serendipity of the Hotel coming into being in the time between the Great Recession and the opening of the High Line extension, this lead to me going on a deep dive thanks to the one free building report you can access on a free PropertyShark account. For those unfamiliar with what West 27th was prior to the Hotel and the condos, it used to be a cavalcade of nightclubs. Club B.E.D. sat at 530 West 27th street - as DrinkTheHalo has documented extensively, there was Sound Factory and Twilo and Spirit and Home (532) and Guest House (542) making up what we now know as the full Hotel space. After the murder of a club goer in February of 2007 BED closed. On December 27, 2007, the building that we'd come to know as the Hotel was sold for $28,000,000 to 27th Street Property Owner LLC.

There were still nightclubs operating in other parts of the location, but a plan examination was filed on February 27th, 2008. Meanwhile, the Boston production was mounted in the fall of 2009. A town meeting was called on May 19th, 2009 to approve as the school that the housed the production was town property. There has been much written elsewhere about how Boston pulled things together from wherever they could, though the sleepnomoreboston tumblr seems to be gone at this time.

From October of 2009 to February of 2010, Sleep No More ran in Boston. Then, in September of 2010, scaffolding goes up at 530 West 27th. January 2011 sees a flurry of permits, with the final one pertaining to occupancy being filed on February 22, 2011, changing the use to all floors . Come March 7th, the show opened and has been running up until this coming weekend.

Now, we know from the press around the reopening in 2022 that proto-Emursive initially wanted to bring Punchdrunk's Faust to New York (they did on their own, eventually, through Life and Trust). This failed and they turned their attention to Sleep No More, offering it up to Boston and the ART, now chaired by Diane Paulus (the wife of Randy Weiner, sort of but not any more 1/3 of Emursive). Sleep No More runs for a set time period, the kinks are worked out, and the space is secured from 27th Street Property Owner LLC. We know thanks to the Spring 2024 Permitgate A.K.A That's Bullshit Arthur that the lease was formally entered into on December 1, 2010 It had its first amendment in June of 2012, the second in August of 2015, and the third in June of 2022 after reopening but before the closing announcement in late 2023.

With all these dates in hand, we can see that the Property Owner LLC was created in prior to the BED incident, in December of 2007. Centaur (once again, That's Bullshit Arthur). What their plans would have been without Sleep No More are uncertain, probably condos, but they got a tenant who sort of paid the bills for 15 years instead.

The timeline is likely this: proto-Emursive comes to an agreement with Punchdrunk in 2007 or 2008 to mount Sleep No More in New York City with an out of town tryout in Boston in 2009. At the same time Centaur acquires 530-542 in December of 2007 as the 27th Street club era is dying. The Boston production goes as planned, with a building identified prior to the start of the run. The lease of 530 is officially agreed upon December of 2010, with scaffolding being set earlier that fall and the ability to modify in hand thanks to the examination from 2008. The official layout permits are modified in February of 2011, right in time for the show to open in March. All thanks to a theater for Faust falling through.

Timing is everything. Without the club era dying, the building doesn't become available. Without the High Line extension in 2012, the area isn't changed beyond recognition to the point where something other than immersive theater or a strip club makes sense as an investment. I give Emursive a lot of flack. But they threaded the needle near perfectly in terms of timing. Sleep No More, as a show that attracted both the theatrically minded and those with cash to spend, could not have existed at any time other than Bloomberg's NYC. But it's a different NYC now and that's all there is to a permit.

[organicmatter]

anon complaining about how industrial and sci fi and creepy portland is makes me want to visit so bad i want to hang out with all the cool metal scaffolding and abandoned factories. clang clang clang

Let's explore the abandoned gravel factory together

[caseyjones-junior]

casey jr headcanons- hobbies

Casey is always down to do whatever someone else wants to do. When he’s around others, he usually relies on joining in on whatever the mad dogs are up to as he’s not one to be left out of the bale. He learns by repeating and is perfectly content with following. It’s nice to be included even when he has no idea what the hell is going on!

He’s happiest with active hobbies. He loves hiking, hockey, basketball, volleyball, bowling, incline skating (a personal favorite way of traveling around the city), parkour, judo, fencing, darts— you name it, he’s played it. The more dangerous and heart pounding the better.

Swimming in the ocean is a big deal for him. He never learned to swim in the apocalypse because the ocean, and most natural water systems, became dangerously acidic. After being taught how to swim (mostly by Donnie), ocean swimming becomes a very relaxing experience for him. Getting thrown around by waves, nose and mouthfuls of salty water, floating totally surrounded by water and the clear sky above him— there was nothing else like it in his future.

Although he works well in a team, Casey finds peace when he’s doing things alone. He’s not a huge talker and he likes to observe and explore.

Urban exploitation is one of his biggest pastimes. He doesn’t know that it has a name and a community, it’s just something he naturally does on his own. He can be found swinging between buildings with his grappling hook, climbing up scaffolding and abandoned factories, evading security cameras, and recording everything he sees in his mask. Occasionally he’ll free fall from skyscrapers. It’s not uncommon for the mad dogs group chat to get the occasional photo of what he found interesting.

Video games can be fun for him too but it depends on the type. Certain genres stress him out. FPS games tend to remind him of certain traumas so he avoids those or will leave the room if one of the boys are playing them. Open world, sandbox, and role playing games aren’t his thing. He gets stuck on character creations and choices.

Small, easy games with clear objectives are right up his alley! Having never played video games in the apocalypse, he’s very bad with most mechanics so the fewer buttons and menus the better. He’s very good with technology but viewing tech as anything other than a tool or weapon confuses him. Things that seem intuitive or obvious for most elude him or boggles his mind, but he’s willing to suspend his disbelief and just go with it. He prefers handheld games that he can take to bed and will sometimes fall asleep playing Pokémon, Nintendogs (digital dogs are much safer than real ones that remind him of krang hounds), and Pac-Man (he’s a nintendo baby).

[othernaut]

Character Creation Challenge 2025, Day 6: Lancer

"Hey, Temp, can you get that fucking Everest out of the launch bay? We've got the pattern saved if you really need to -"

"Hey, Shred. Hey. Back off, she's drunk. Not okay kind of drunk."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You remember that data bundle we pulled? The dropship?"

"Oh."

"Wound up with a full profile on Serapis, including what happened to the Cause after she went offworld."

"... Oh. Oh, shit. Do you need me to -"

"Nah, it's all right. Just give it time. She's a tough old girl. She'll pull through."

"Okay. Yeah, sure. Hey, do you want to... get a... thing? That isn't here?"

"Sure, Shred. Let's go do that."

And then the doors hissed closed, the low light faded, and Harriet was left alone with her misery and nostalgia.

//ailure of the Unified Body of Serapis to come to a resolution on the issue of Central Nations independence, a stalling action was performed in UB caucus. During that time, several failed assassination attempts at Central leading figures escalated the internal violence to an all-out war that swiftly spilled across the borders. The Dominion of Regis, for purposes of professed morality, pulled out of the discussions, and no further resol//

Fuckheads. The UB lasted five years, enough time for everyone to get comfortable with the idea of a moderated world government - enough time for it to sting when the rug was pulled. People are going to act like people, no matter how noble or responsible they profess to be. They fall to infighting for no reason and then it's the communities, the little people, her, her friends - they're the ones with their water cut off, with no medical supplies inbound, with nothing but the bare matter of the world and themselves.

Idiots. Everyone. Her especially. She scrolled quickly past the political lead-up; the memories it evoked weren't ones she wanted to relive. Another pull of clear brandy. It didn't burn anymore. Probably a good thing.

There we are. Port Harrow. Dockside steel ramping into the black bay. Old stone-brick buildings encased in scaffolds of exostructure. Orange sodium lights in long lines in the sky, making every season into autumn. Kids chasing fluffy gulls along the Char River outlet. Four bad bars within a two-block walking distance of each other along the Hyde Park strip, so if you got kicked out of one you could stumble to another before your buzz even dreamt of wearing off. A stiff bed and a paycheck and a night full of people arguing outside.

//racturing of communities in Regis as the supply shortages continued, leading to tacitly independent, anarchist city-states as it became clear the people had no one to rely on but each other. In Port Harrow, the history of heavy industry in the city led to a wealth of industrial equipment that could be repurposed for war, agriculture, reconstruction, and mobile community support. As the government shutdown entered its third year, Port Harrow was one of the more successful of these communes, successfully managing both a mass agriculture and self-defense project by retrofitting industrial frames into multipurpose, proto-mech units//

The years coming in like a flood, dulled by both alcohol and time to a prosaic wash of color. She'd been in an agbot at first, but even the agbots needed some self-defense capability, as the raiders neither cared about growing seasons nor common sense; they just took whatever was to hand and fuck everyone else. At time went on, the attacks ramped up - but the people back home in the factories managed even more inventive fuckery in response. God, the thump of the rivet gun, how it'd hiss on a miss in the wet dirt of the fields. Petrochaff'd fuck up the old-school oil bikes they were using, leave them baking on the asphalt with the smell of a spilled deep fryer. The damn things came with caution paint on the legs, but the kids still climbed her anyway. They liked to sit on her head as she scanned the hills.

Then she read a name and it all soured instantly. More brandy. A wretched turn in her stomach.

//Union Far-Field Teams arrived just after the burning of Concord Square, when it became clear that the remnants of Unified Body governance could no longer hold even a suggestion of power. Crisis management NHPs were deployed in places of deepest anarchy to prepare the ground for reclamation and reconnection squadrons, which arrived later that year. Even deeply independent-city states, like Rouge Mountain and Port Harrow, capitulated after a brief exchange, bringing an end to the crisis before the next yea//

I mean, how could they resist? They had agbots and heavy industrial frames; Union had fucking mechs. They had rivet launchers and digging tools and junk-data ewar modules taped together from pornbots and netmail viruses; Union had AIs, for fuck's sake. Even if they blew a mech with a lucky shot, fuckers just printed another that same night. It was unwinnable. That beautiful thing they made, that open garden where everyone was for everyone else, where everyone had enough and the only thing you answered to was your neighbors...

It was unwinnable.

//sequent years saw a formal capitulation by autonomous zones, a return to Union-led Unified Body governance and entry into the embrace of galactic civilization. Reconstruction efforts began immedia//

They had pictures. She couldn't even recognize the streets.

//iolent holdouts retired to on-world educational facilities and, for the more extreme ideologies and antisocial dispositions, off-world contain//

What the fuck's so extreme about it? Help out your neighbor, you don't need anything else.

//ishment of permanently stationed Serapis Coordination Force to track down and pacify remaining violent bands and promote the ideology of unifica//

They held a gun to her head and asked her what she believed. Of course she lied.

//dless, a managed diaspora in subsequent years//

And no matter how you love something, there's a time, always a time, when it's not worth it anymore.

Harriet leaned back. Her head swam. The hangar blurred in front of her eyes, more than usual - she didn't fucking need glasses, not yet, she wasn't that old. Upside down, the team's mechs hung like rainbow stalactites, a row of independence splashed in bright colors and bristling weapons and anime boobie-girl decals. Why shouldn't she leave a place that didn't need her anymore? Fuck, she had enough experience for any lancer squadron. Anyone. Best of the bunch, this, and yet. It was like the carnival sideshow version of home, some punk-fuck pageantry of the anarchy she fucking lived for years, for years -

But it was better than what was left for her on a home now staffed with strangers.

Lurched forward. Stomach definitely did a thing there. Maybe call it a night. Finger wiggling to the little red X.

//spite media management discouraging public displays supporting 'non-standard political philosophies', shows of support for community leaders and organizers during the crisis remain standing in areas most strongly affected by the supply disruption, including Steeltown, Port Harrow, Perrbroke, Rou//

She squinted into the blown-up, artifacted image. Unfamiliar street, but that was a fucking agbot. Held up, scaffolded in steel. Sodium lighting. Big rock in front of it, sanded down, pocked with names. No laser etching, all hand-carved. Blurry, but she thought she could recognize some of them. That smear of shadow might have been a friend, a lover, a co-worker. Might've been her.

Stomach lurched like a sick generator. One little tear, big as a lost world, tracked its way down her cheek and died in the collar of her jumpsuit.

Yeah. Time to call it a night.

*****

Harriet Spall Callsign: Temperance Background: Worker (heavy machine operator) License Level: 3 Licenses: Nelson III Grit: +2

Pilot Skill Triggers: +2 Assault, +2 Hack or Fix, +2 Invent or Create, +4 Read a Situation, +4 Take Control Pilot Stats: Size 1/2, 10 Evasion, 10 E-Defense, Speed 4, HP 6 Mech Skills: Agility 2, Engineering 3 Core Bonuses: IPS-Northstar (Sloped Plating)

Talents: Juggernaut: Momentum (when I Boost, the next Ram I make gains +1 Accuracy and knocks the target back an additional 2 spaces), Kinetic Mass Transfer (when I ram a target into another target, the other must save Hull or be knocked prone; when I ram a target into an object or structure, they take 1d6 kinetic damage), Unstoppable Force (1/round and for 1d3+3 heat, I can supercharge a Boost to ram through people and objects). Nuclear Cavalier: Aggressive Heat Bleed (first attack I make on my turn in the Danger Zone deals +2 additional Heat), Fusion Hemmorhage (first attack I make on my turn in the Danger Zone is Energy damage and deals +1d6), Here, Catch! (gain the Fuel Rod Gun integrated weapon).

Mech: Goodbye Paradise Frame: IPS-Northstar Nelson Frame Traits: Momentum (1/round, when I Boost, gain +1d6 bonus damage next melee hit), Skirmisher (may move 1 space after attacking, ignoring engagement and not provoking). Frame Core System: Perpetual Motion Drive (Active - for the rest of the scene, Skirmisher allows me to move 4 spaces instead of 1)

Mech Attributes: Size: 1 Structure: 4; HP: 12, Armor: 1 Stress: 4, Heat Cap: 9, Repair Cap: 5 Attack Bonus: +2, Tech Attack: +0, Limited System Bonus: +1 Speed: 6, Evasion: 13, E-Defense: 7, Sensor Range: 5, Save Target: 12

Equipment Loadout: Main/Aux Mount: Tactical Melee Hammer (Threat 1, 1d6+2 kinetic +1d6 explosive damage), Mod: Thermal Charge (Limited 4, expend a charge to activate its detonator, dealing +1d6 explosive damage) Main/Aux Mount: Pistol (Range 5, Threat 3, 1d3 kinetic damage) Flex Mount: Power Knuckles x2 (Threat 1, 1d3+1 explosive damage, knocks prone opponents on a crit if they fail a Hull save) Integrated Mount: Fuel Rod Gun (Limited 4, Range 3, Threat 3, 1d3+2 energy damage, clears 4 heat)

Systems: Thermal Charge Mod (included in Tactical Melee Hammer attack) Ramjet (activate as a protocol, apply 2 heat, until the start of my next turn gain move +2 spaces when I Boost in a straight line with melee attacks gaining Knockback 2) Armor-Lock Plating (can Brace while Grappling, applying 2 Heat and ending the grapple; until the end of my next turn, attacks against me receive +1 difficulty, I can't fail contested Agility or Hull saves, and I'm immune to Knockback, Grapple, Prone, or being moved by any external force smaller than Size 5) Personalizations (+2 HP: safety signs and up-to-date hazardous materials notices) Custom Paint Job (when taking structure damage, roll 1d6, ignoring damage and returning to 1HP on a 6: caution yellow-black patterning)

*****

I got lucky. This isn't my first brush with Lancer, nor my second. Like a lot of the games I'm making characters for this year, I got Lancer some time ago and bounced off of it for reasons I couldn't really articulate. I think, at the time, it was a clash between expectations and reality. I had been pitched Lancer as a system where you could tell any of a variety of mech stories, a wide universe where conflicts could take any shape and theme and, at the time, I had a real taste for scrungy, scavenger-ass mechs scrapped together out of car batteries and nuclear paperclips. Lancer, apparently, doesn't tell that kind of mech story, and with the system's native complexity and its major favoritism for tactical combat over personal stories and gritty campaign play, I bounced.

But I got lucky. Later, during a lull in my weekly role-playing, a friend offered to run a one-shot, two-person session of Lancer with pre-built mechs, and it was a god damn hoot. Having someone there to walk me through how the systems interacted, through the joy in building complex machinery and then bashing it against one another - that very much helped. Any system, no matter how much it might not appeal to me specifically, is improved with the spice of enthusiasm. I went home and immediately, badly tried to put together a Kidd dronebot before learning of this challenge and saving my enthusiasm. And now here I am, and here's my machine. It wants to run into your shins and hit you with an exploding hammer.

Lancer's one of the few systems I've run into on this journey to which I can't really say, "It's good, but." Lancer does precisely what it intends to do, and if that's a thing you also want to do, then you're going to have a fantastic time. It doesn't fully stay in its lane - there's enough storygame swerving to allow a full Shinji Evangelion arc, if that's the thing that floats your artillery platform - but it puts a hell of a polish on the thing it wants to do well. Each little bit is comprehensible at first glance and clicks together satisfyingly. The machine it creates is beautiful and deadly, though you have to want it in order to run it at peak efficiency. Also, shoutout to COMP/CON, the free online character-building tool, for being way more organized than me hanging out with an open notepad file and a PDF.

Next up: The laughter of thirsting gods.

[abboudlawfirm-tucson]

Which Profession Has the Highest Workers' Compensation Claims?

Workers' compensation is meant to protect employees who get injured or sick because of their job. But not all professions carry the same level of risk. Some jobs come with an everyday danger that makes injuries far more common. So, which profession sees the most workers’ compensation claims? Let’s break it down.

Workplace Risks Aren’t Created Equal

Not all jobs require you to lift heavy objects, work with dangerous machinery, or risk falling from great heights. But some do. And that’s where workers' comp claims start stacking up.

Jobs with the highest injury rates tend to fall into these categories:

Physically demanding labor – If a job requires heavy lifting, repetitive motion, or prolonged physical exertion, the risk of injury goes up.

Exposure to hazardous environments – This includes chemicals, extreme weather, or dangerous equipment.

High-stress, high-pressure roles – Stress-related claims might not involve broken bones, but they can still lead to serious health issues.

So, which professions consistently rank at the top for workers' compensation claims?

Construction Workers

It’s no surprise that construction workers have one of the highest rates of work-related injuries. From working on scaffolding to handling power tools, this job is a daily mix of risk and skill.

Common injuries include:

Falls from heights

Machinery-related accidents

Electrocution

Repetitive motion injuries

Exposure to hazardous materials

Even with safety protocols, accidents happen. And when they do, they can be life-changing. A single slip on an unstable platform can mean months (or even years) of medical treatments and lost wages.

Truck Drivers

Long-haul trucking might not seem as risky as working with heavy machinery, but the statistics say otherwise. Spending endless hours behind the wheel puts serious strain on the body—and accidents on the road can be catastrophic.

Common injuries include:

Back and neck strain from long hours sitting

Injuries from loading and unloading cargo

Road accident-related injuries

Slip and falls at truck stops and loading docks

A bad crash or even just years of wear and tear can lead to serious injuries that take truck drivers off the road for good.

Healthcare Workers

Healthcare is about saving lives, but the job itself can be physically and emotionally draining. Nurses, paramedics, and caregivers constantly lift, bend, and assist patients—often in high-pressure situations.

Common injuries include:

Lifting-related back and shoulder injuries

Exposure to infectious diseases

Slips, trips, and falls in fast-paced environments

Needle stick injuries

It’s ironic that those who take care of others often end up needing care themselves. The physical and emotional toll of healthcare work leads to thousands of workers' comp claims every year.

Manufacturing & Warehouse Workers

Factories and warehouses are full of potential hazards. Workers deal with fast-moving machinery, heavy lifting, and long hours of repetitive tasks—all of which take a toll over time.

Common injuries include:

Repetitive strain injuries (carpal tunnel, tendinitis)

Accidents involving heavy machinery

Slips and falls from cluttered workspaces

Exposure to loud noise causing hearing loss

One moment of distraction in a warehouse can mean a serious accident, making this one of the most injury-prone industries.

Law Enforcement & Firefighters

First responders don’t have the luxury of a slow day at the office. Whether chasing suspects or running into burning buildings, their job puts them directly in harm’s way.

Common injuries include:

Assault-related injuries (for police officers)

Burns and smoke inhalation (for firefighters)

Sprains, fractures, and muscle injuries from physical confrontations

PTSD and mental health-related claims

These jobs are high-risk but essential. And when injuries happen, they can be severe—sometimes even life-threatening.

Other Professions That See High Workers' Comp Claims

While the above jobs are among the most dangerous, other professions also see plenty of injuries:

Retail workers – Slip and falls, lifting injuries, and customer-related incidents add up.

Landscapers – Heavy equipment, extreme weather, and repetitive motions make for a risky job.

Restaurant workers – Kitchens are full of burn hazards, sharp objects, and slippery floors.

The reality is, workplace injuries can happen anywhere. Even an office job can lead to repetitive strain injuries or slip-and-fall accidents.

What Happens After a Workplace Injury?

When someone gets hurt on the job, workers' compensation is there to cover medical expenses, lost wages, and rehabilitation costs. But getting the benefits you deserve isn’t always simple. Employers and insurance companies may push back, questioning the severity of the injury or even denying claims outright.

If you’re dealing with a workplace injury, don’t navigate the process alone. Workers' comp claims can get complicated fast, and having the right legal guidance makes all the difference.

Final Thoughts

Some professions are just riskier than others. Whether it’s falling off a roof, getting into a crash on the highway, or suffering years of repetitive motion injuries, workers deserve protection when things go wrong.

If you or someone you love has been injured at work, it’s important to understand your rights. A successful workers' compensation claim can help you recover—not just physically, but financially, too.

Don’t wait to seek the support you need. If you’re struggling with a denied or delayed workers’ comp claim, speaking with an attorney can help you move forward.