#and who’s plot kicked in and stayed relevant for the entirety of the experience

[vounoura]

the tightrope of making a PC feel like a real character with agency and motivations while also allowing players the freedom to make and play who they want and the intense limitations that imposes is something I find so utterly fascinating in RPGs that focus on choice-based stories bc every game / series attacks it a little bit differently

[wintercherry]

Scarlet Witch

The brief magic of a night. I believe I've earned my vacation. I did surprisingly well in school, I've been through multiple doctor visits and two surgeries, I'm in the middle of a lawsuit, and I've put up with the seclusion of South Dakotan life. (I must clarify that the vast fields of nothing and corn are very relaxing... if it weren't for my mother-in-law) So, back at it again in my town, my turf, my playground. Homefield advantage and this girl likes to play games. But first, be nice and reconnect with your friends. Isolationism breeds desperation. Oh, crap. Friend wants to go to a party and wants me to come along. Is it too late to take back what I said? When I said "I'm down for whatever" I was expecting coffee or a lakeside promenade. These parties are not only queer-friendly, they are also drug-friendly. I don't do drugs; I can make stupid choices sober. You'll see. Before the party, I have to satisfy my inner weebo. ACEN, an anime convention. Don't tune out, I assure you it's relevant. Not only did I have a chance to hang out with myself after not doing so for so long, I also got to kick names and take ass (oh, I love you, Guardians) in KOF ‘98. Really, what I wanted the most was exactly what I got out of it, channel back my old self. Mindset, personality, drive, confidence... and my bad habits. Old self... old single self. With that out of the way, I'm ready to go to this party. I meet up with my friend and we Lyft there. (#notsponsored) Surprice surprice, other than the host, we are the only ones there. He is quite an interesting character, I give him that. With no reason to be inside, we all stand out in the porch. Eventually, more and more people begin to show up, enough to entice the host to go back in. My friend follows. I follow my friend. Christ, why is she just standing there? - "I thought you said you'd know some of the people here" - "I did, but the people I know haven't showed up yet" Golden. Who would've known walking around the convention's floor would exhaust the hex out of an out of shape girl? I didn't. Crap, I really want to sit down but all these people I don't know (and have little interest in knowing) have claimed every sit. Oh, I know! I'll sit on the stairs! It doesn't matter that the staircase is directly in front of the entrance and sitting there makes me look like the least threatening bouncer in history. Hey, at least I'm a few feet away from all that ruckus. Good; I need a moment alone to plot an escape plan in the form of an excuse equal parts believable and sensical. You picked the worst time to be out of ideas, brain! Sigh. Guess I'm staying. Then she walks in. She is gorgeous. The dimness of the entrance is instantly illuminated by the contrast of her flowing red hair and crimson jacket. The black of the night coming through the opened door fuses with her short black dress and boots, leaving only the pale of her exquisitely defined legs visible. Sitting at the base of the stairs, I am awarded front row privilege to such a spectacle of a woman. Say something. N- no. I- I can’t. People like me don’t talk to people like her. Say something! Now! - “Scarlet Witch” - “Huh?” - “Are you cosplaying Scarlet Witch?” - “Yeah” - “Nice” Now, I’m usually not that quick on my feet. I had just the day before seen Infinity War so the character was fresh in my memory. That, and also added to the fact that she came in accompanied by another girl, another attractive girl at that, cosplaying as Zero-suit Samus. Sharp deduction skills under favorable circumstances. She walks past the stairs, past me, into the crowd. I am in total disbelief. Had I known people like her frequented places like this, this would not have been my first party. The surprise begins to wear out quick as I go back to staring out into the darkness outside, only occasionally breaking my silence to not make my boredom too obvious to my friend… who is still just standing there. Suddenly, she is back. Why are you stretching your arm in my direction? Oh, your name is [SCARLET]? Nice meeting you. I am the bitch. No, I really did say that. She laughed. You know you don’t have to stick around, right? In fact, you didn’t have to introduce yourself. People like you usually ignore people like me. It’s okay. It’s science. Why are you still around? You don’t do well with crowds? This is your first party? Yeah, I can sympathize with those. However, I am not abandoning my position safely situated behind the staircase rails. Strategy is my second strongest genera. Scarlet and I begin to chat; begin to laugh; begin to breed life into this party. You were at ACEN? So was I. You like comics? So do I. You play Skirym? I only play good games. And one by one, people keep congregating to the doorway in order to join our conversation. Our little group eventually encompasses nearly everyone at the party. People. Fucking people. And fucking smokers. The smokers, as a whole, hive-mindedly decide that this is the perfect moment to have a cigarette. The entirety of the crowd spills out into the porch for the second time in the night. The host walks outside. My friend follows. Scarlet’s friend follows. Scarlet follows. I follow Scarlet. Being the last to I step outside, I notice that I am clearly not the only one under Scarlet’s spell. Actually, she sits in the single only chair in the middle of the porch with everyone else surrounding her, like the calm center of a storm. There is a contest for her attention. Several of the attendees joke with her, show videos to her, offer cigarettes to her. She makes sure to acknowledge every single request, yet, doesn’t seem keen on engaging in anything for longer than politeness dictates. She sits, royally, as if waiting for something. Of course that happens. What? Did you think you were special? I quietly linger outside with everyone, lost in my thoughts. Some time later, the cold of the night is forcing those with little care for climate preparedness to go back inside with the pretext of getting another beer and joining in basement karaoke. Everyone flows back in. I stay behind. Briefly. When I go inside, most of the people are in the basement. I have little interest in following so I resume my self-appointed role of guardian of the doorway. I sit on the stairs. Take off my glasses to massage the bridge of my nose. Put my glasses back on to see my friend standing there. Again. - “I’m going downstairs, are you coming?” - “Yeah, just give me a moment” - “Are you okay?” - “Yeah, go ahead. I’m right behind you” Not. Glasses off again. Rub. On again. Figure standing there again. Scarlet. I quickly invite her to sit beside me on the stairs. She accepts. We continue chatting as if we were never interrupted. We joke, we disclose more about ourselves, we open up about our inner demons. There is an undoubtable sense of companionship, of comfort and relaxation solid enough to allows us to be honest with each other. This was her magic. She looks at me with her bright aquamarine eyes so expertly accentuated by her black eyeliner. Sound is coming from her mouth, but I keep surrendering focus to her lips. Their natural rosiness lightly highlighted by gloss, so well defined and symmetrical. Such a splendid lure would rob any man of his senses enticing them to attempt stealing a kiss. I know; I felt it. Yet, I contained myself. This knight’s loyalty belongs to her flower princess. Besides, it’s not like she wou- - “I wanted to say this earlier… I really want to kiss you” - “I don’t think that’s a good idea” Gotcha. - “Woah. Okay” - “What?” - “I guess I’m not used to someone rejecting me, usually I’m the one rejecting guys” - “I bet” Scarlet wrestles with her emotions. She’s recently been through a breakup. Her feelings are getting the best of her. I have been in her exact spot, I’ve shared the anguish she feels inside. I am compelled to offer consolation. I put my arm around her. I offer words of experience while trying to mask the complete shock of her proposition left in me. I want to defuse the awkwardness and her quick emotional outburst, so I offer to join the rest of the group for karaoke. She agrees. No wonder she agreed, she has a powerful voice making her a tough act for anyone to follow. She enjoys the limelight. She sings, she gets complimented, the night goes on and she has seemingly forgotten about this stupid girl sitting in the corner. This is for the best. Still, I find myself wanting more of her. I want to sit next to her, I want more of her time, something, anything. Nothing happens. Eventually, her time to leave arrives. Despite our apparent distancing, she makes the point of coming to me to say goodbye. I offer to walk her outside but make it only as far as those damn stairs. Then, another surprise: she gives me her number. As she walks out the door I make my way to back to basement but I stop to embarrassedly admit to her: - “You know, you are the biggest regret of my life” - “What do you mean?” - “I’m always going to regret not kissing you” She smirks. She leaves. True to my words, I spend the rest of my night regretting, not because I didn’t kiss her, but because I craved so much more of her still and I would never get it. Unless… unless I text her. I did. She replied. Manhattan.