#but they are the ones who set the rules in this game

[hetalia-club]

Somthing I love about Hetalia is we all just accept anything he gives us. Like he just randomly decides that in the MAIN manga he’s just going to start doing a mafia AU out of nowhere with no transition or announcements that it will be driving away from the main “plot” for a bit plot is in quotes because we all lost the plot long ago. Then he invented a card game to go with it and we are just all like “yes understandable more please” I simply cannot imagine joining this fandom in todays age I would be so confused what the show even is lmao. Like “Yes they are countries. But sometimes they are high schoolers, sometimes they are just like guys hanging out, Santa is real and one of them is Santa but he’s also a country and also not Santa only sometimes, sometimes they are in the mafia playing a card game about themselves and the rules are kind of hunger games-ish where they are playing to move up in power with the other districts and it’s implied better districts have access to better things but they are still countries just also leaders of gangs but the gangs are the country, One of themselves has a best friend who is an alien, and just so you know animals can talk but not all animals and they can only talk to the countries who own them and other animals. Mythical creatures are real and only some countries can see them like Americas pet unicorn that he cannot see and England friend flying mint bunny that only he can see & Norway has head set that only trolls can call him on, sometimes they are all gender swapped and all of the gender swapped versions have their own personality and human name, oh right human names! They all have 2 names the county name and human name and if you don’t learn them quick you won’t have any idea what half of us are talking about, don’t even get me started on 2!p it’s them but slightly edgier and yes they all have their own separate names that you should at least learn the main 8s version of, other times they are all cat- why did you cut me off? What do you mean you are confused? What’s not clicking? Hua fine let me start over. It all starts with the tomato box fairy and Mr. stick…..Hey! Where you going? Come back I haven't even told you how some of them are related, but also not really, but also yes they totally are!"

[artemx746]

Imagine you work at a casino, it’s not a typical one, you can only play poker and the rules have become so mangled it’s basically an entirely new game but people visit regardless. One day, while you’re still working your shift, a man comes in wearing a suit, it’s purple on the outside and decorated with images of galaxies on the inside, one his left a small sheep with black wool dyed to look like it has sprinkles and on his right is a person who declares themself Anonymous Jolteon (you don’t know what a Jolteon is, it must be some sort of forgotten deity based on how they're dressed) the crowd of what must’ve been over one thousand people declare them a prophet.

You start playing and… he knows everything. The prophet whispers in his ear and everything happens just as they say. The crowd calls it dark magic as a joke but you're inclined to believe it. Eventually the prophet stops whispering to him after another pack of tarot cards are bought (I told you this casino was odd) and goes to stand in the crowd. You breathe a sigh of relief, the less that prophet speaks the better, oh how you would be punished for your foolishness. The game continues and He. Keeps. Flushing. Every single hand he plays is a flush of spades and the chips keep rising. 100,000 is cleared with ease. 200,000 is where it would've been over but he demands to keep going. 300,000. You keep trying to set him challenges that should've at least posed some difficulty but he clears them with no issue. 400,000. 600,000. e16. You stare in horror at the man as he surpasses e29 and he barely celebrates it. The prophet speaks again to give one small piece of advice and goes silent again. The man reaches e38 and still demands to go further. He starts chanting, something about turning left cards into right cards, but you aren't listening, you're staring, at the crowd, at the man, at the prophet. You begin to wonder if you've been trapped in some sort of purgatory, being punished for whatever crimes you may have committed in life. The prophet tells him to turn paper into glass, just to see how high they could reach. Again, he starts converting left cards into right cards. Converting left cards into right cards. Converting left cards into right cards. Converting left cards into right cards. Converting left cards into right cards until his entire deck is glass. A tarot card gives him a polychrome card and the prophet exclaims that not even they could do that and that the man has received all the help from them they could give. The crowd jokes that the gods would tremble before him. You would believe it. e49. He didn't even play the polychrome yet. If a glass breaks he simply makes a new one without a care in the world. He plays a full polychrome glass deck and... e58. More than the amount of atoms on earth. He gets offered a card and the prophet speaks up one last time to announce that, should he take it, the man has a definite chance of losing at some point. That was the greatest new you ever heard in your life. The man takes it and the next hand is e73. Then e74. Then e87 and the crowd cheers, that is more than the atoms in the observable universe.

He keeps going.

e88. e89. The man understands that the end is in sight and you feel like you can see a light at the end if the tunnel. e95. You're so close. You set it to e98 and the man smiles knowingly at you and just for a second he feels a little more human. He accepts that his next hand is his last and plays his cards. e96. You're free. You laugh. In spite of everything you laugh. With tears in your eyes you laugh! The crowd, the prophet, the man and the sheep all leave.

You vow to never return.

[thydungeongal]

Hey do you know any ttrpgs that take place in high fantasy worlds but aren't combat centric?

I've got a sprawling fantasy world or several I want to keep using for games but I want to step away from the combat-centric dungeon crawls of your dnd's and pathfinders for a bit and experience more of what's going on in the RPG space.

Sorry if you're not the right person to ask, you just feel like someone who might have opinions on the topic.

I have a few I could recommend!

First of all, Burning Wheel. Burning Wheel is an interesting game because it's a fantasy RPG with a very simple core system (d6 dice pool) with a bunch of systems built on top of it to the point where it's actually amazingly complex. Now, the default setting of Burning Wheel is very Tolkienistic. It assumes a medieval level of technology and a human-centric world, with elves, dwarves, and orcs filling the non-human side. It's a fascinating system but also a lot. What it does best is support characters with firm beliefs and ideals living according to those beliefs and ideals, and it can support high intrigue just as well as combat. (There is a combat system but it is almost better suited to duels instead of skirmishes.)

Mythras and RuneQuest are d100 fantasy RPGs, the former being basically a version of the latter but without the Glorantha license. Now, they are very trad RPGs and as such combat remains the one part of their systems they are most opinionated about, but both make combat into a very gritty and lethal affair to the point where engaging in combat without thinking is very much discouraged. They also have extremely detailed and fine-grained magic systems, as well as systems that encourage characters growing organically. And the system of Passions that mechanically reward characters acting according to their beliefs and building connections to the world. Now, Glorantha is one of the coolest fantasy settings on the planet, but if you've already got a setting of your own Mythras might be the better of the two.

Hmmm. I'm actually drawing a blank here. Oh, there's Free from the Yoke, which is a game based on Legacy: Life Among the Ruins, but set in a medieval fantasy setting where an alliance of noble houses has staged a revolution and freed their people from foreign rule. The game has some implied setting to it, with there apparently being some Slavic influences to the setting, but looking at it I think it could fit into almost any high fantasy setting with minimal modification. However, the gameplay loop will center around each player controlling a noble house, with two different levels of fiction (house level and character level, as they each also control an individual member of their own house), so it shouldn't be treated as a generic game.

[separatist-apologist]

Fuck Me Up, Florida

Summary: Elain has some regrets- she'll bury them in Florida.

Read on AO3

Before:

Elain stood on the edge of her cottage, arms crossed over her chest. Maybe they’d taken things too far this time but there wasn’t room for this interloper, this stranger from an even stranger land. She and Lucien had lived in the swamplands for centuries—they would outlast the so-called witch seeking to take their territory.

But Lucien’s face…oh. He knelt beside her, head bowed as blood crusted over his golden skin. “You should go—”

“I’ll kill her,” Elain replied calmly, drawing forth the magic pulsating against her fingertips. She might lack Lucien’s ability to shift himself at will, to take on the terrifying form of the alligators that guarded the waters, nor could she rip out a throat with her teeth.

Elain could merely gaze into the future and reshape it to her will. 

The witch—Amarantha, they called her—was from another place with crueler, colder rules. Her magic was just as old, but twisted and dark and wholly out of place in the warm, sunlit paradise. Elain had seen how it ended, saw the witch crumble to dust, though when she tried to see how, the future shifted wildly into a kaleidoscope of color. 

The witch could be defeated. She would be defeated, if only for what she’d done to Lucien.

So Elain waited, dagger hidden beneath the cool material of her skirt, while Lucien continued to kneel beside her. He wanted to leave while they were still intact, but Elain refused. This was their home. She’d give it up over her dead body. 

“Is that so?” Amarantha purred, stepping from seemingly thin air. Everything about her set Elain’s on edge. She was bone pale, with eyes so black they seemed to bleed against the whites of her eyes. Her hair was the same shade of freshly spilt blood and around one long, spindly finger she wore a ring made from a real, moving eye.

Her dress slithered against the mud, silencing the once lively world. “You’ll leave over your dead body?”

Lucien’s head snapped up, tasting the iron tang of magic mere seconds before Elain did. Amarantha pointed at Elain, eyes burning with deathly amusement. 

“No—!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Amarantha purred. Elain was frozen, trapped in a swirling mass of air. “She’ll be back.”

“Don’t,” Lucien pleaded. “I’ll do anything—”

“I want nothing from you. Only her and her meddling sisters. Let’s play a game…just to make it fair. I won’t kill her, little demon. She’ll be reborn and given one mortal lifespan. Bring him an offering of flesh as a sign of our bargain…and in return, if you can convince her to tell you she loves you, I’ll return her memories.”

Elain wanted to scream at Lucien not to take the deal. It was a fools errand—to rob her of her memories, to make her think she was mortal and then present her with a male who looked so inhuman no human would ever stand to be in his presence.

Say no, she tried to plead with her eyes. Feyre and Nesta would avenge her. Lucien looked up at her, face still freshly scarred, and shook his head. He knew it was impossible—a fools bargain. And still.

“It’s a deal.”

Elain took a breath.

And then she was gone. 

Now: 

She didn’t know how it happened. 

One minute Elain Archeron had been listening to Graysen go on yet another tirade and the next…the next her hands her bloodied and Graysen was laying there lifeless, eyes glassy and tilted toward the vaulted ceiling. If she wanted to be honest with both herself and God, Elain would have admitted that she’d simply lost her temper.

He wasn’t yelling at her. Not this time, anyway. Instead, Graysen yelled about immigrants, he yelled about his politics, he yelled until his face was red and he realized that the only person left to yell at was her. And Elain was simply tired of apologizing.

She’d wanted him to just stop. To give her a moment to think, to settle her galloping heart. Even when she slept it was never peaceful, never deep. She tiptoed through her own life, making herself small and sweet so as not to draw his ire.

She’d always been that way.

What had been different, she wondered? 

But she knew the answer to that, too. Two years of marriage—and two years of infidelity. She’d discovered it the week before when his phone lit up at three am, just in time for Elain to get up and use the bathroom. She couldn’t say what was different about that night, too. Maybe it had been the Georgia heat. Or maybe her body knew something her brain did not. Elain had spent the night scrolling through hundreds of love sick messages, and a hundred more that painted her out to be a frigid, standoffish wife who didn’t care about her husband's needs.

Any woman dumb enough to believe the tired story of the neglected married man deserved whatever she got. Which, in Elain’s estimation, was a man who yelled about everything all the time. He didn’t yell at that other woman, though. 

He called her beautiful.

Elain could still remember when Graysen had talked to her like that, too.

So when he started yelling, Elain’s patience was already shredded thin. There was simply no more good will left. She’d picked up a heavy crystal face and smashed it over the back of his head. Graysen had pitched forward, forehead slamming against the sharp edge of their coffee table, rendering him dead before he ever connected with their hardwood. 

She’d intended to turn herself in. That was the reasonable thing to do. Nesta was a lawyer, Feyre was married to old money—she figured she could spend a decade or so behind bars, even if orange did wash her out. 

The world worked in mysterious ways. As Elain was picking up her phone, 911 already dialed, her phone dinged a warning.

Hurricane Elaine scheduled to make landfall on…

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

Elain burst out laughing. Hurricane Elaine? Really? Surely it was some cosmic joke and yet…

“Hello?”

“Sorry,” Elain said, still laughing like a lunatic. “My daughter, she…sorry.”

The annoyed operator on the other end huffed out a sigh, assured Elain it happened all the time, and ended the call. 

Hurricane Elaine.

Elain was on the Florida-Georgia line, just far enough from the worst of the coming storm. It was a six hour drive to Destin, risky considering Elain had moved her husband's dead body to the back of his truck. If anyone noticed or stopped her, it was all over.

But if they didn’t…

Oh. But if they didn’t.

Graysen had a timeshare in Destin. It wasn’t much, though he was proud of it all the same. She’d never liked it, truth be told but in that moment, standing beneath a starry Georgia sky, Elain used their points and booked a week. It was the kind of thing Gray would do. He never wanted to evacuate, never took these kinds of threats seriously. Elain would dump his body in a swamp and then say the water simply swept Graysen away. 

Maybe it would take her, too.

Elain didn’t have a preference one way or the other, truth be told. She merely thought getting away with his murder was another outcome she could live with right alongside being swept away by the sea. She thought about all of it as she drove in the dead of night, amazed by the traffic trying to leave Florida as Elain tried to enter.

Every couple songs on the radio warned about the impending storm. She didn’t care. Eain was giddy by the time she pulled into the resort, careful to hide Graysen’s body beneath a tarp. It couldn’t stay in her car for long without risking being caught, not with the Florida humidity. She simply needed to check in to make her story believable, and hope no one bothered checking the security cameras.

“You’re brave, checking in,” the cheerful woman at the front desk told her. 

“Or stupid,” Elain replied with an easy smile. “My husband thought we’d have the pool all to ourselves.”

“Ocean, too,” the receptionist said before handing Elain the keys. “We aren’t required to evacuate but if things get any worse, you should.”

“I will,” she swore like a liar. All she needed was that key and a plausible alibi, after all. She’d been here, not committing any murders. Was it a crime to be stupid? No, especially not in Florida.

They could suspect her all they like, Elain didn’t care. She was free of Graysen without the mess of a divorce.

Would she feel grief once the dust had settled? When Graysen was nothing more than a few picked over bones at the bottom of a swamp would it all hit her? Would relief turn to misery? Would she lie awake in bed missing the warmth of his body?

Climbing back into her car, already warmed from the Florida heat, Elain decided she couldn’t let herself care. Not right then, anyway. Besides, if Elain was honest with herself, she was having a disturbing amount of fun.

Rolling down her window, Elain let the wind ruffle her hair like an affectionate parent as she grinned, cheeks pink from the humidity. If a hurricane was on its way, the world gave no sign of it. Though, Elain had turned from Destin to make her way toward a swamp that would become Graysen’s final resting place. 

Good riddance, she thought. This was where she’d bury all her regrets, her mistakes, her ghosts. Maybe herself, too, though it was too early to make that determination. Maybe once Graysen had been dumped and Elain was alone in the resort, hurricane winds pounding against the roof. 

Maybe. 

Truth be told, Elain didn’t want to mourn or miss him. Her whole marriage felt like she’d been grieving a man who’d died the day she met him at the altar. He’d once been kind and sweet, had looked at her like she was the sun and he was merely a frigid planet begging for warmth. He’d been the one who’d changed, who’d embraced cold so brutal no light could penetrate his rotted heart. 

Killing him had been an extreme course correction and yet…and yet Elain couldn’t find the empathy people had always praised her for. Couldn’t find anything but the knob of the radio and then her voice singing along, loud enough to be heard over the rush of the road. Nevermind that there was a dead body in the back of her stolen truck—the songs were all bops as palm trees became cypress and  mangrove. 

The air was thicker somehow, as if charged with magic. It was tempting to think that was just Florida itself and not her own delirious joy seeping out of her. She was nearly finished with the whole debacle. Her heart pounded as she pulled off the main road, tires betraying her in the mud as she crept deeper into territories unknown. 

This was the hard part. As Elain cut the ignition, she considered for a moment the absurdity of her plan. If it worked, it would be sheer luck and nothing else. There was blood in her apartment, tire treads in the mud, and a hurricane on the horizon. She ought to go back to her original plan and call her older sister for help. Nesta would know what to do, would be able to get her out of serious trouble.

Elain knew if she dumped this body, there would be nothing Nesta could do to soften that blow. There would be no painting Elain as a victim but the aggressor, the abuser—everything Graysen had been before she took his life and made him part of the Florida ecosystem. 

Elain took a breath before deciding fuck it. She’d come this far, hadn’t she? Might as well see it all the way through. Elain hopped from the cab, flats sucked into the mud so deeply she thought she might need to abandon them altogether. Managing to get her feet out of the mud, Elain pulled the tarp she’d half wrapped Graysen in from the back of the truck until his body slid to the ground.

The Florida heat was getting to her. Or, maybe it wasn’t the heat that was making her feel a little manic but the humidity—whatever it was, Elain let out a soft laugh before grabbing Graysen by his limp arms. She tried hard not to look too closely at his gray skin, eyes trained on the path ahead. Just get him the water, she told herself.

Television hadn’t prepared Elain for how heavy a dead body was. Graysen didn’t look like such a solid man but right then, Elain wanted to scream as she inched him forward, sweat dripping from her nose.

She was leaving DNA everywhere—if she didn’t get caught it was simply law enforcement refusing to do their job entirely. As she dragged him toward the murky water, Elain considered that she was merely digging her own grave, too. She ought to climb in after Graysen and let the alligators have her, too.

In the end, Elain kicked Graysen into the water with a heaving breath of air. He plopped into the green tinted water with a heavy splash that silenced the insects, if only for a moment. Shoulders aching, she braced herself against the sticky bark of a leaning tree, eyes closed.

It was done. She’d done it. There was no going back now. She could have turned back anytime before Graysen sank to the bottom of the swamp but now…now there was no way in hell Elain was getting in that water to try and drag him out.

She needed to leave. Spend the week in the timeshare at the pool until the hurricane hit and then…she didn’t know. She had no plan, no idea how to go about things and she was terrified to google any of it. 

Elain opened her eyes, surprised to find she wasn’t alone. A man was coming toward her as he pulled thick, auburn hair up off his face in a messy bun.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes gleaming. Three long, vicious scars cut down one strange, gold eye that didn’t match the brown of the other. 

Elain nodded her head, heart pounding in her throat. What had he seen? Mouth dry, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, Elain could do nothing but wait as he came toward her. He wore light clothing that looked far more comfortable than her own, the white cotton of his shirt sticking against the muscular contours of his chest. 

“What are you doing so far out here?” he pressed, eyes sliding from her to the water just beneath her. There was no evidence of what she’d done if he ignored the path she’d carved through mud and vegetation dragging Graysen’s body. And if he walked just half a mile toward the gravel road, she’d find Graysen’s truck parked, the doors flung open and likely filled with mosquitoes. 

“I like nature,” she told him. It wasn’t even a lie—Elain worked for the botanical garden back home and maintained her own in the backyard she’d once shared with Graysen. “I’ve always wanted to see a swamp.”

“Could have taken a tour,” he said, eyes twinkling. “The alligators are real aggressive out here.”

“They can’t be that bad if you’re out here,” she shot back, unsure why she was being so combative with this man. 

Something green glimmered beneath the collar of his shirt, inked against his skin. What kind of tattoo was it, she wondered? 

“I practically live here,” he replied as he came closer, hands jammed in his pockets. 

“You work in a swamp?”

He only shrugged. “It’s a living, right?”

“Well, if you’re not afraid of gators, neither am I.”

He came closer still. “There’s worse things in gators out in the swamps.”

Elain froze. There she was, in the middle of nowhere talking to a stranger who had appeared seemingly out of thin air. Her hair curled in the humidity, her face slick with sweat and yet he seemed serene. Unbothered by the heat, the heavy air, or their surroundings. Elain took a step backward.

“Right. Well I uh…should be going.” He didn’t try and stop her, seemingly amused as she made her way back up the path. “Watch yourself, Elain. There’s a hurricane coming, you know.”

She only nodded, turning her back on him to rush back to the car. She was too stressed to deal with the stranger in the swamp. Elain didn’t let herself think about him until she was back in the room at the resort standing beneath cool shower water.

Watch yourself, Elain.

Had she told him her name? Elain genuinely couldn’t remember. The stress of everything was getting to her—maybe she had. In that southern kind of way, a greeting that included letting him know who she was so he knew she was no threat at all.

Why not tell him what she’d done, too? Hi, I’m Elain Archeron and I murdered my husband. 

Make it easier on the police when they went looking for witnesses. She could have given that man the murder weapon had it not been shattered in hundreds of pieces on her living room floor. Still, Elain replayed that parting sentence over and over in her head. Elain, Elain, Elain. Why had she told him her name? Why hadn’t she asked for his? 

Should she have done something more? Assured him she was just a normal woman lost in the heart of a swamp she had no business being in? Had he watched her drag that body and merely waited to see what would happen? She was more concerned with getting caught than what she’d actually done, which also worried her.

What kind of person murdered their husband? 

She did, apparently. Elain didn’t think she was a bad person—just sad. Mad, too, that things hadn’t worked the way she’d wanted to. Angrier still that she’d loved him the way she had and in the end, it hadn’t even been good enough. She still remembered insisting to Nesta that Gray was her soulmate and their love was the thing of legends. It was love so pure, so perfect, so timeless that one day people would write books about it.

She supposed she hadn’t been wrong about that last one. Some true crime junkie would pick up this story and write about her. Would they call her a Black Widow? No, she decided as she laid there in the dark listening to the wind. She had no intention of remarrying, after all, and certainly wouldn’t kill another man. But they’d come up with some other offensive nickname for her, labeling her without really knowing her heart. 

Elain fell asleep easier than she’d expected to, though her dreams were confusing and vivid. She was back in that swamp, wading deeper and deeper into the water as something made its way toward her, gold eyes reflecting the moonlight onto the water. Blood—no, hair—fanned out behind the creature and when he raised his head to smile, teeth sharpened to a point.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, his voice cutting through the still night. Elain couldn’t move, frozen in place as he came further and further out of the water. The green on his neck, she realized, wasn’t a tattoo but scales and behind him, a tail propelled him forward just as surely as his legs did.

She couldn’t scream. Trapped in mud, Elain could only stand as he came closer and closer, water dripping from his bare chest. The opaque water obscured his bottom half which was for the best—she was certain she didn’t want to see it. 

He reached out to touch her, golden skin somehow glowing in the moonlight, and—

Elain woke to the sound of thunder, sheets sticking to her sweat soaked skin. The doors to the balcony attached to her bedroom were flung open and though it wasn’t raining yet, puddles of water pooled on the tile floor. Elain sighed loudly, palm pressed right above her breast in an attempt to silence her screaming heart.

It was just a dream. A nightmare, truly, borne of her guilty mind and her fear she was going to be caught. Elain forced herself to get up, grab a towel from the bathroom, and wipe up the water. This time, she made sure she locked the balcony doors so the wind wouldn’t blow them open before she crawled back into bed.

The nightmares were the same, though. 

And when she woke, the doors were opened again.

Unwilling to take it lying down, Elain went down to the front desk to ask if she could be moved. Her doors, she explained ruefully—if there was a hurricane, she didn’t want to deal with water flying in. The person at the front desk was far less sympathetic to Elain’s cause and though they didn’t say so, it was clear they thought she and everyone else still at the resort was an idiot.

She tried not to let it bother her. 

She needed to just stick to her plan. It was a terrible plan, admittedly, but it was too late to back out, now. Elain spent the day sitting outside by the pool holding a book in her hand, too nervous to read even a page. She kept waiting for the police to descend on her, led by the man haunting her nightmares.

There she is, he’d say with open accusation. There’s the woman who murdered her husband and thought she could get away with it. 

They didn’t come. Frantically checking the news every couple of minutes, Elain found more warnings of the tropical storm about to descend on them, found other stories of murder, but nothing about her. No one had called to check in on Gray—not even the woman he was having an affair with. Elain had his phone sitting on her bedside table, monitoring it for anyone who might be worried about him.

No one was. 

It was almost too easy. 

If it hadn’t been for the nightmares, Elain might have just turned around and gone home. Maybe that would have silenced her nightmares. Elain dreamt of the man again, noting the way the green scales seemed more repetilian than those of a tattoo. This time, as Elain waded into the swampy water, she found her voice again.

“Who are you?” she asked, white nightgown floating around her.

He offered her a truly terrifying smile, those teeth tinged red in the moonlight. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he told her again, his voice a haunting melody. 

“Why?”

He was close enough she could smell the earthy scent of him. It was familiar, somehow, though she was certain she’d remember if she’d seen him before.

He merely cocked his head, standing to his full height. Water sluiced off his body and though she knew this was merely a dream from her stressed out and panicked brain, Elain’s eyes dipped between his legs all the same. Now she knew it was a dream because men should only have one appendage…and this man had two. What was wrong with her? 

He didn’t seem concerned with her gaze—not amused nor offended. Instead, he stepped forward, reaching for a long curl between two long, strong fingers.

“Mate,” he whispered, reaching for her before she could stumble back. It was just a dream, she told herself…and yet it felt real. Elain swore she could feel the sharpened claws against her back just as surely as she could feel the warm water enveloping her.

“What about alligators?” she breathed, earning a soft chuckle from the creature holding her.

“You don’t need to worry about anything harming you,” he said, dipping his head to run his nose along the shell of her ear. 

“Because this is a dream,” she said, eyes closed.

Another laugh drew shivers up her spine. “Whatever you say.”

But it was a dream, even if it felt real. She knew she’d wake up and the door would be open because subconsciously she wanted to get caught. “What’s your name?”

“Lucien,” he replied, running a finger over her cheek. How long had it been since someone had touched her like this? Like she was special, cherished—loved? 

“Why are you waiting for me?” she questioned, deciding if it really was a dream, maybe it didn’t have to be a nightmare. Maybe she could enjoy herself in the privacy of her strange fantasies. Maybe the scales, which she found softer than she expected them to be, were representative of something. 

“You’re my mate,” he murmured. Hadn’t she just read a book about that? The men hadn’t been so strange looking—merely more handsome versions of humans, their ears a little pointed, their teeth a little sharper. Elain relaxed in his arms as she realized she was merely trapped in a strange dream about the men she read in books.

“Of course,” she said, amusement lacing her tone. He cocked his head, wet hair plastered to his bare shoulder.

“You don’t believe me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Elain declared blithely, kicking her feet gently in the water between them. “I think I left a body in here.”

“He’s gone now,” Lucien informed her. Oh, how Elain wished that was true. “Who was he to you?”

“My husband,” she said mirthfully as she inclined her head toward the moon overhead. “He yelled a lot.”

Lucien’s grip around her body tightened. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not in the ways that matter.”

“They matter to me,” he said, and of course they did. Elain loved herself and this man was merely an extension of her own mind. Still, pretend or not, it felt good to have someone care about her. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she told him, turning to look him back in the eyes. It was here she found those scars again and wondered what had caused them. Would her mind fill in the gaps for her? “Who did this to you?”

He chuckled, catching her wrist to press a kiss to her open palm as she tried to run her fingers over the grooves. “Another male was interested in my territory. He tried to take my eye, I took his throat.”

“How very vicious of you,” she teased. “Are you half alligator, then?”

“Simply put, I suppose,” he said, the amusement in his gaze sharpening to something she didn’t recognize. It was almost desperation that stared back, a plea to know something she had only forgotten. Elain felt the strangest rush of deja vu, though it faded into the night before she could grasp it, a balloon whose string was just out of reach. 

“What are you? Can I ask that?”

“You can ask me anything you like,” he told her, his voice dropping an octave. Elain felt a rush of want as he waded further into the water, clearly unconcerned with the lurking danger. 

“I am…” he trailed off, clearly trying to find the words before he turned to look at her again. Elain was tracing the scales adorning his shoulders and neck like tattoos, trying to remember the last time she’d touched anything reptilian. “Old, I suppose.”

“How old?”

“Old,” he emphasized. 

“You don’t look old,” she said, half laughing at how predictable her daydreams were. 

“I age slowly,” he informed her solemnly. “You did once, too.” “Oh? Before what?”

Skimming his hand over the top of the opaque water, he said, “You’re my curse, now.”

“How do you break the curse?”

Those strange, reflective eyes found the same glassy water they were floating in. He didn’t say, but Elain knew because this was her dream, her fantasy, her imagination. “It’s love, isn’t it?”

He looked so hopeful as he met her gaze. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. 

It was a dream. “You seem like you’d be extremely easy to love.”

Pressing his forehead against her own, Lucien exhaled softly. “Let me show you.”

Lucien brought them to the opposite end of the swamp, unconcerned with his nakedness or the fact that she was openly staring at him. Well, not at him so much as what was slowly rising between his legs—two appendages, one longer than the other by a good inch. Elain didn’t need him to explain how they worked, though she was curious as to the point. Surely, from an evolutionary standpoint, one was enough? 

Taking his hand, Elain let him lift her from the water, well aware he was just as fascinated by her form which was no longer hidden given the way her nightdress clung to her body. 

“What are you going to show me?”

Lucien didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed her by the back of the neck and kissed her, sharp teeth grazing her bottom lip. Elain let him, reflecting that even though this man was a monstrous figment of her imagination, it had been a while since someone kissed her like they meant it. Like they wanted her. Maybe, she thought, this was some kind of weird metaphor. The only man who could ever love her was a monster, after all—just like Graysen.

Or maybe she was the monster.

After all, she was the murderer. Lucien was just a man she’d seen in the swamp that would one day testify at her trial while she remembered how they’d had sex in a dream. Elain kissed him back, surprised to find he tasted warm and sweet—like a warm, summer day. This was the type of dream she liked—the sort where she could feel pleasure without the endless guilt that seemed to fill her. 

She could taste blood in her mouth, slipping back into her throat as his tongue chased after it, kissing her with a frenzied hunger that Elain wished was real. The trick was not waking up before she came—Elain had never quite mastered that 

She knew it was a dream for sure when he lifted her nightdress, swatting her hand when she tried to touch his bare skin. 

“Just you,” he breathed, scales glinting in the moonlight. No man would ever, she decided as Lucien ran his own hands down her now naked form. It was almost like touching herself, forcing an awareness of her body that Elain rarely had. She didn’t pay attention to how it felt when someone's fingers teased her breasts or the way cool skin felt against her own. Or, she hadn’t in so long she’d forgotten what true pleasure could be like and he hadn’t really done anything. 

“What do you like?” he asked through a heavy breath of humid air. 

“I…” Elain was suddenly too embarrassed to tell him. Everything felt real—Lucien sank to muscular knees, his thick tail curling around the pair of them.

“Do you like this?” he asked in a husky voice as his forked tongue traced shapes against her upper thigh. To keep balance, Elain slid her fingers into his thick, silken hair. 

“Yes,” she admitted while he lifted her leg up off the ground, hooking it over his broad shoulder. Little ridges adorned his spine, flexible when her toe brushed up against one. Elain was fascinated with his form—more man than creature, but not human at all. She might have demanded an answer had that tongue of his not licked up the length of her.

Elain nearly toppled over, but Lucien wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her closer while cupping her ass in one of his large, strong hands. He groaned with pleasure, the sound drowning out the screaming, watchful cicadas in the background.

“And this?” he demanded, licking again.

“Yes,” she breathed, head thrown back so she could look up at the stars. If she’s been more articulate, she would have told him that she liked it too much, and Gray had never wanted to do it. It took too long, he’d complained which of course only made it take longer. Elain was so self conscious every time he did go down that she never finished and often just counted to two hundred, faked it, and let him move on. 

“I need to taste you,” Lucien informed her, pulling her so close against him she wasn’t convinced he could breathe. She would have told him he was already tasting her if she’d been braver and less afraid that at any moment she was going to wake up and realize the whole thing was just a really weird, yet really good dream. 

Because it was her dream, Elain didn’t have to worry she was taking too long. In fact, Elain wanted to drag her pleasure out. His tongue was just rough enough to provide the smallest amount of friction while his mouth was otherwise soft and warm. Perfect, she decided with a sigh. 

She wanted to spread herself out. Maybe Lucien knew it, or maybe the ground merely hurt his knees. All she knew for certain was in the span it took to draw breath, Lucien was on his back and she was straddling his face, staring down the length of his rigid, muscular body. She wanted to touch him and so she did, spreading her legs as wide as she could get away with so she could lean against him.

Lucien moaned when she pressed a kiss against his stomach. Distracted, she half forgot what he was doing with his mouth. It was just…well, two cocks were endlessly fascinating to her. Why? What was the point? Elain reached between his legs and took the thicker, larger one in her hand. It was ridged, she realized with wild desperation. What would it feel like? Would her mind even know? Was she imagining this because she’d been shopping for vibrators a month earlier and stumbled upon some truly strange looking dildos? 

“Fuck,” Lucien panted, inclining his head away from her swollen pussy to look at her. “You don’t—it’s fine, just…just come here—”

Lucien put his mouth back on her with a vengeance, determined to distract her so thoroughly she couldn’t pleasure him, too. It was a game now, trying to get him off even as waves of pleasure began to build in her chest, threatening to drown her at any moment. Had anything felt better? 

Lucien writhed beneath her, prompting Elain to reach around for the second one and grip it, too. He gasped, breath warm against her throbbing cunt, before returning to licking circles around her clit. 

They came within seconds of each other—though Elain didn’t get to see any of it. Body throbbing, the sound of thunder crashing pulled her from her dream, body still roiling from her orgasm.

“Christ alive,” Elain swore softly, pushing the blankets from her body to close the balcony doors again. She knew she’d locked them before bed, had pulled the handles to be sure they were firmly locked.

Water was pooled on the floor again, her bare feet splashing in puddles as she made her way back to the ensuite bathroom. All Elain could think about was the man—the stranger she couldn’t stop dreaming about and his strange, inhuman features.

She’d nearly forgotten why she was dreaming about him. It was only after Elain had cleaned everything up did she recall that oh, right. She’d killed her husband and her brain was apparently trying to decode this information in the form of giving a strange swamp man two penises. 

Elain was going insane. Seeing things that weren’t there, manifesting her own downfall. Was this what if felt like to be haunted? Only, there were no ghosts—only her own guilt tormenting her while she slept. 

Elain shoved a chair against the balcony doors before she went back to bed, forced to lay on the opposite end because the mattress felt wet, too. Sweat, surely.. And the swamp man didn’t return, though when she woke the chair was back in its original place beside the window and the doors were open again. Outside, the world had gone red, the sky tinged with blood. Elain felt as though she’d manifested it herself, though that was pure arrogance to think she had any affect on the weather. 

Her phone was screaming at her to get out, pinging emergency instructions from the resort on where to go when the hurricane made landfall. Elain planted herself in her bedroom determined to see this lie through. It was the kind of thing Gray would do, besides—he never too much stock in the hysterics, as he called it. 

And she was so pathetic that she would have sat beside him and waited to die. Elain told herself she’d be fine, even as fear skittered up her spine. Sirens blared just outside and when she stepped toward the window, Elain could see the storm on the horizon. She took a breath, intending to go sit back in bed and try and read her book. Elain would have, too, had she not seen him coming out the sea itself, eyes trained on her bedroom window. He was merely a dot, a doll walking so far below her Elain was positive he couldn’t see her. 

And yet she knew he could. Wind whipped around him, blowing his hair this way and that though he didn’t seem bothered by it. Elain watched, mouth half open, as a palm tree was shoved violently to the ground as though a giant hand had pushed it there. But the man didn’t budge, kept walking as though it were a perfectly normal day.

Oh god.

Elain rushed to the door, locking it before making her way out of her bedroom. Where was she going to go? She turned, standing in the living area, eyes trained on the beach. The man was gone and for a moment, Elain consoled herself that she was just crazy. He didn’t exist, her mind had merely snapped and when this was all over, she’d check herself into an asylum. 

Elain looked away for a moment, turning toward the little kitchenette she hadn’t used. “You’re okay—” The glass shattered, sending Elain flying to the floor, arms thrown over her head to avoid getting hit by debris. Unable to hear her own thoughts over the wind, Elain tried to recall what she should do in the middle of a hurricane.

Cool fingers curled around her upper arm, hoisting her up into the air. Elain turned her head, horrified to find herself cradled against the half naked skin of the strangely scaled man. “You,” she accused, certain all this was his doing.

His smile was grim, eyes wide and round. He looked scared. “Me,” he murmured, his deep voice cutting through the noise. “It’s time to go home.”

“I’m not going—” the wind screamed as water pelted the pair of them, stinging her skin with each new assault. He didn’t seem concerned at all, ignoring the glass crunching underneath them as he walked her toward the bedroom. 

“We’re going to die—”

“You’re going to remember,” Lucien interrupted, tail swishing angrily behind him. He looked catlike in the stormy dark, eyes glowing like sunlight cutting through shadow. 

“You’re not real,” she breathed as he ripped her night dress in half. He certainly felt real.

“You know me,” he breathed, staring down at her. “You love me.”

“You’re a monster,” she replied.

Lucien grinned, betraying two rows of sharp teeth. “I’ll show you a monster.”

She tried to push him away but Lucien knew better. Knew he could have her if he wanted her—had already touched her, tasted her. Her protests were weak, silenced the moment his mouth was back on hers. He was real—they were real. She almost forgot about the screaming wind rattling the windows and pushing glass around the living area. 

“You brought me an offering,” Lucien panted, hitching her leg up around his now bare waist. When had he taken off his pants? “Tell me you love me.”

“What offering—”

“The body. Your husband,” he spat, eyes darkening at the memory. “Tell me you love me.”

“I hate you,” she replied as he wrapped both hands around her bare thighs and wrenched them open.

“Wrong answer,” he replied. Elain kicked at his chest as Lucien lined himself up not just with her pussy, but her ass, too. 

Their eyes met. “Does this feel real, now?” he whispered, inching himself forward just enough to punch the lungs from her breath. “You know me.”

“I don’t,” she replied as something metallic lodged itself in her nose. The world was ending in an explosion of air and water and yet a strange bubble seemed to exist around them. Words, just on the tip of her tongue, if only she could remember them, begged to be released. To finish a spell long since cast.

Lucien waited for a heartbeat, his hope etched over his features. When Elain said nothing, Lucien pressed himself closer to her, cocks intruding on her body like an old, familiar friend. Elain swore she’d never felt anything like it and yet her body stretched on instinct to accommodate him. Even when Elain wriggled, trying to create some resistance, her body simply allowed him to slide easily inside.

“Why two?” she panted, gritting her teeth to adjust to the feeling of being stretched to capacity. 

“I can’t impregnate my mate if she doesn’t feel pleasure,” he replied breathlessly. His hair fell like a sunlit curtain between them, his eyes bright and earnest.

“Lucien,” she breathed, nails cutting against his biceps. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you—but who are you?

“Yes,” he managed, pulling himself out of the sticky wet that was her body. Spitting in his hand, Lucien lubricated his shaft now halfway buried in her ass before he thrust himself back in and

Elain was forced to admit that it all felt good. Her back arched of its own accord, eyes rolling upward in her skull. The ridges lining his cock made each new thrust sharper, the pleasure brighter. 

“Our bond goes beyond marriage,” Lucien told her as colors filled her vision. “What we have is stronger than love.” His fingers stroked between her legs, rubbing tight circles around her clit until Elain was panting and writhing. She was going to come right alongside the hurricane bearing her name and then what? The windows would give way and the world would one day know of the woman who died because she decided fucking was more important than evacuating.

She didn’t care. Elain pulled him closer, running her hand over the flexible spines running the length of his back until she found the tail protruding just above the swell of his ass. 

“Please,” she begged, wrapping her legs around his waist. Lucien whined in response, sweat dripping down his forehead as he ran his nose along her own.

“I can’t stop,” he told her, pressing a kiss along the corner of her mouth. “If you don’t say it, we start all over.”

“I love you,” she said, half meaning it. What did hurt, she decided? He was so obviously insane and maybe so was she, because she was still fucking him, wasn’t she? Maybe this was what she deserved. 

Lucien’s pace quickened and with each new thrust a new memory came flooding through her awareness. A cottage on the edge of a swap, a cauldron filled with bubbling liquid. A male half hidden in the water, gold tinged eyes looking for predators as his red hair fanned out behind him.

Amarantha.

Her horrible bargain.

Elains vision.

“Lucien,” she said, fisting his hair so he had to look back at him. He recognized her words, the look on her face.

“You’re back,” he whispered, still thrusting into her though his rhythm slipped into wild, animalistic thrusting. 

“You feel exactly as I remember,” she told him, dragging her nails down his back. “What took you so long?”

“Let a man wallow for a century or two,” Lucien replied, kissing her again. “Come for me. Now.”

She did, though not because he told her to— because she was already desperate and close and Lucien was pushing every button she had. Elain tightened around him as Lucien babbled unintelligibly about how wet and tight she was. Some things, she supposed, would never change. The world would.

But not them. Never them.

Lucien came loudly, roaring over the wind she’d forgotten about. Was there a hurricane? Had she been afraid of it? That seemed almost laughable to her now. Turning her head as Lucien buried his own in the crook of her neck, Elain stared out the window coated in violet raindrops. 

For a moment, the storm was the only sound between them. 

“You borrowed my magic,” Elain accused once his breathing steadied. She could feel his come leaking down her leg, slipping between the spaces his cocks occupied.

“You didn’t know how to use it,” Lucien replied with a sheepish grin. 

Elain poked him in the ribs. “Is she dead?”

“Not yet,” he told her, gaze darkening. “Feyre drove her out a century before.”

“Let's finish it, then.”

“In time,” Lucien promised, withdrawing himself so he could offer her his hand. “Home, first.”

Elain grinned. “Home, then.”

[papamado]

A "theory" regarding Sampo's abilities

okay so this is an absolute mess and more of a ramble but I think it might be worth sharing so here I am Since I'm very normal about Sampo Koski, I've noticed some paralels to.. osme things... and i ended up with a concept that Sampo might be aware/know the script - just like Elio does On Belobog we don't encounter stellaron hunters (for obvious reasons), but Sampo does end up being the one who affects the way the plot goes and actively puts it in motion, he's the one in control (to some extent) He also appears to be aware of stuff that has yet to happen and its possible outcomes (getting Natasha even before we started fighting Svarog, knowing that we will arrive on Luofu despite it being an unplanned stop, the possible future Belobog catastropy) There's 2 ways to approach this: 1. He works with the Script in mind (following the trailblazer around, kinda like stellaron hunters happen to do) 2. He deliberately works against it (Jarilo VI is supposed to face destruction but he prevents it, could be for personal reasons) Theres also the whole thing about him breaking the 4th wall, which could be connected. Awarnesss of the fact that this is a game could result in him having a knowledge of what the plot of said game is.

I strongly HC Sampo to be an Elation emanator, so I thought about what being an elation emanator could mean, as in, how realistically the powers could manifest From the recent guide that was released along side the 2.2 stream, we have a small entry about Masked Fools which confirms that the path powers are DIRECTLY tied to their masks (this could mean both metaphorical or physical masks but from what i get from the context here it most likely refers to the physical ones?? the concept works with both possibilities tho so whatever <3 )

We know that sampo doesn't have his mask currently (which also works in a symbolic way, Masks represent the devotion to Elation, him not having it could represent how he wants to distance himself from what Elation is considered to be and pursue his own idea of it instead. The general description provided here for how masked fools are doesn't exactly fit him either whichmight further prove that idea, i should write a seperate post on that, anyways-) , so how the hell can he do shit that we assumed earlier was Elation-related powers? i have 2 possible explanations for this 1. Him being an emanator lets him use the path powers without a need for a mask, if thats the case - the mask would only provide a powerup 2. Elation emanator powers are something else altogether

when we look at his current power set/abilities it can all be tied to the fact that this is a game so, him bieng an emanator of elation would allow him to ignore the rules of this world/mainupulate said rules, simple as that it would also explain why he can break the 4th wall, why he is aware of the script in the first place and how he can do stuff that contradicts what's been established lore vise (like how nobody should be able to cross the barrier between the Overworld and Underworld), those rules don't apply to him, he's beyond them. But there's more we DO have an in game example of people already messing with the reality in the same manner - Silver Wolf From what I gathered (with help of some friends of mine mwah mwah), the "reality editing" abilites of Punklorde people are directly tied to a technology present in said world - that combined with the world view of those living here results with them reating the world they live in as if it was a game

Adding onto that, during "punklorde mentality" mission we get to hear Leonard say this:

"Masked fools believe it really exists" so are the Masked Fools aware that someone could posses *actual* (not provided by technology) power to alter/manipulate reality and ignore the established rules of the world? We can kinda see such thing happening with Aha in stimulated universe, not only do they break the 4th wall, but according to Herta they also seem to be affecting the stimulated universe itself Aha's manipulation of reality is also mentioned in the "Glimpses into the Beyond"

So maybe to wrap it all up: 1. Sampo could be aware of the script and use the reality manipulation abilities/the fact that the rules don't apply to him to achieve a desired outcome 2. Him and the Stellaron Hunters have some paralels in the narrative when it comes to the role that they play and what they do?? kinda??? 3. Punklorde people could be affiliated with Elation to some extent, even if not directly blessed by it I am probably VERY wrong about all of this but honestly I'm having fun with this theory so idc <3

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

MTG or YGO?

Long post? Long post!

Are you asking what I prefer? YGO. Are you asking what I think is better? That is wholly dependent on what a person wants out of a card game.

YGO's biggest barrier to entry is the fact that the cards are written in their own form of legalese. I mean this very literally, too. They use "Problem-solving card text" where it makes use of deliberately placed adverbs in effect descriptions to dictate moment to moment interactions. It is almost like learning a new language, and has been compared to learning how to read through legal documents. It becomes comprehensive once you wrap your head around it, and is the reason you can do some properly crazy/funny shit in the game, but wrapping your head around it and understanding what new cards do is a whole thing. Having someone who's played YGO before teach you how to play the game is basically the most reliable way to learn it. It's genuinely a problem.

MTG is, comparatively, much easier to learn. Very low floor of entry, and sequenced in such a way that you can understand basically how the entire game works in a few hours. MTG's complexity 100% exceeds YGO's at the uppermost levels, but the way game comprehension builds on itself is much cleaner, so it feels less obtuse overall.

MTG is mechanically more casual friendly. The current MTG darling format, Commander, is basically a 2ish hour social game where four people engage in a free for all that hinges partially on social politicking. It's typically chill. You also have a lot of assorted 1v1 formats and such. There is likely a "way to play" that will resonate with you, and the games tend to be slowish.

YGO doesn't really have multiple formats in a meaningful way. You can absolutely do group stuff and set informal rules, but the game ultimately hinges on 1v1s. With the frontal complexity of card text, these can and will feel very lopsided and frustrating until you understand what's going on. Once you do know, it's super cool, but getting to that point can feel like a chore. The games are also typically quite fast (maybe 3-6 long turns) and very dense with card interactions and timings. I enjoy it for the way it makes me strategise (or not), but it's definitely a preference thing.

Cost is something where YGO absolutely curb stomps. I can get a whole deck of picked out cards, plus a suite of "staple" (eternally meta relevant) cards, with lots of cool foiled versions and stuff, for like 50-70 bucks USD. You are NOT doing that with MTG. MTG is a stupidly fucking expensive game, where reprints of important cards are rare to encourage market speculation (I am not kidding) and finance bros have an ACTUAL PLACE in the community. There is a reason that casual MTG encourages proxy use. It's fucked. Also, as an aside, MTG's shiny/foil cards are dogshit. Same-y and super prone to curling. YGO foils are extremely good and pretty.

Cost feeds into another issue; set rotation. You can argue merit in both directions with this one, but for the average person with average money to spend, MTG takes another L here. MTG has set rotation. Basically, in the standard 1v1 format, cards that have been out more than 3 years will no longer be playable in that format, and you have to get the new cards. A lot of the alternate 1v1 formats in MTG actually just boil down to "1v1s but you can use cards as far back as X" because... people want to use their cards they bought. YGO doesn't have this. It instead has a banlist, updated every couple of months, that aims to curb problematic card interactions. Ultimately, though, if you buy a thing and like the thing, you can basically always use the thing. (MTG, as an aside, also has banlists for its formats, but it's in addition to the rotation stuff. The fact so many formats are there to ignore X years of rotations is also kinda telling, imo.)

Art direction and flavour are a personal thing. I like both, though I think that YGO's reputation for archetypal/thematic variation and card art quality are well-earned. That'd be wholly up to your preferences.

So yeah, I have a fondness for both games, but I ultimately prefer YGO because I like doing unhinged bullshit in it, I like the art a whole lot, and I like that all my cards are affordable and retain usability in a typical play environment.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello! I'm looking for an RPG that's set underground with a focus on mining and modern vehicles/technology, in the vein of Lego Rock Raiders and Power Miners. If nothing comes to mind, any systems you know that you think might be easily adapted to an underground mining setting works too!

THEME: Mining, Technology, Underground.

Hello there! I've got a few solo and a few multiplayer options for you, some about mining, some about tech, and some that might have to be tweaked but I think could still fit the bill!

Stoneburner, by Fari RPGs.

In his will, Brokur has bequeathed to you the cursed mines of the Long Belt, its dilapidated settlement, and the leadership of House Grandrock.

However, other dwarf houses seek to overthrow you and take control of the valuable minerals hidden deep within those cold tunnels.

To complicate matters further, most of the mines’ galleries are haunted by fire spitting demons from the underworld.

Cleanse. Rebuild. Survive.

Stoneburner is a sci-fantasy solo-friendly demon-hunting community-building tabletop role-playing game.  Inspired by the new school revolution movement, players take on the role of a group of dwarves who must assume control of a demon haunted mine, along with its accompanying settlement. A settlement which they inherited after the death of their distant relative. The game focuses on the dwarves' journey as they navigate the challenges of their new responsibilities, rebuild a new thriving community, and clear the mine of its fire spitting monsters.

Technically the mines of Stoneburner are in space, rather than underground, but I think there’s going to be some similarities nevertheless. The game is a combination of combat, survival and base-building, using the items that you find to create things that will help you hold your own. There’s machine upgrades, expeditions across a map, and problems that will show up every time you take a break. I think it’s definitely worth checking out!

Robo Goons, by Unknown Dungeon.

It is the distant future, humanity has disappeared from the surface of the Earth, and nature has taken back the planet. All that remains are overgrown man-made structures returned to the wild, vicious beasts that stalk the surface, and sentient robots who pick through the ruins of civilization for salvage. You are one such robot.

Robo-Goons is a lightweight, tabletop adventure game where the players take control of randomly generated robots and explore the ruins of humanity in search of upgrades and salvage. The core rules fit on a single page and all that's required is a pencil and paper, two six-sided dice, and some friends to play with.

Robo Goons uses the setting of a ruined civilization, with an added detail that your robots have solar batteries that need to be re-charged. If your robots are continuously salvaging from underground, or even just beneath heaps of scrap, then you have a natural cycle of going down and up again, giving you breaks as you play. The game also comes with a map, which represents the ruins that your robots will explore, with plenty of roll-tables to determine what kinds of places they’re exploring, and what threats might show up.

Astro Miners, by 7 Card Stud.

Astro Miners is a TTRPG about mining in space.

You are an robotic mining worker with a human brain. The only problem is your brain was wiped of all memory. You don't remember your name, your old life, even your sexuality and gender are all lost. You are a robot.

If you can mine enough material you'll earn enough credits to regain your memory and buy your freedom from the company if you want. 

Astro Miners is built for 3 players, but if you don’t mind doubling up on character classes, you can probably play with 4 or 5. Since the game is built on LUMEN, I’d expect your characters to be hyper-competent, with plenty of room for upgrading and customization. There are dropships that you can call in order to be able to sell things you’ve found and buy things you need, and you can also buy robots to help you carry things, fight things, illuminate dark areas and more!

Numenera: Destiny, by Monte Cook Games.

This is the Ninth World. The people of the prior worlds are gone—scattered, disappeared, or transcended. But their works remain, in the places and devices that still contain some germ of their original function. The ignorant call these magic, but the wise know that these are our legacy. They are our future. They are the Numenera.

Set a billion years in our future, Numenera is a tabletop roleplaying game about exploration and discovery. The people of the Ninth World suffer through a dark age, an era of isolation and struggle in the shadow of the ancient wonders crafted by civilizations millennia gone. But discovery awaits those brave enough to seek out the works of the prior worlds. Those who can uncover and master the numenera can unlock the powers and abilities of the ancients, and perhaps bring new light to a struggling world.

Discovery (the base game) is mostly about exploration, but Destiny, the biggest and most useful supplement, gives you character options for building and crafting, as well as plenty of interesting machines and vehicles for you to build and use. Numenera isn’t explicitly underground, nor is it about mining, but I think there are plenty of places within the world that you could start building an underground base in, or at least something similar.

DELVE and UMBRA, by Blackwell Writer.

DELVE: A Solo Map Drawing Game is a map drawing game that puts you in control of a dwarven hold as you discover the horrors that lurk below. This 44 page zine has everything you need to generate natural formations, forgotten ruins, enemies, wyrd magics, and ancient monstrosities. It has a simple turn-based combat system, rules for building your hold and optional challenges for a harder experience.

UMBRA: A Solo Game of Final Frontiers is a map drawing game that puts you in control of a sci-fi colony as you struggle against starvation, the void, and the many threats that will assail you from above and below. This 48 page zine has everything you need to generate natural formations, alien ruins, enemies, technologies, and forgotten terrors. It has a simple turn-based combat system, rules for building your colony and optional challenges for a harder experience.

DELVE firmly places itself in fantasy, but it is first and foremost a game about delving underground. In contrast, UMBRA is about mining in space, while fighting of alien threats. You draw cards from a deck of playing cards to find resources and discover landmarks, while combat takes the form of a tower-defense format. There are a lot of supplements available for DELVE, as well as a Cyberspace and a Stations expansion for UMBRA.

Other Games You Can Check Out

Underground, by emmy.

Dark Delve, by Fedmar.

[duchessdepolignaca03]

Thanks for the tags @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @sparklepocalypse @taste-thewaste @bigassbowlingballhead @onthewaytosomewhere @tailsbeth-writes @priincebutt and @firenati0n

I don’t have a lot to share and my brain is eating me. I’m torn between FOMO and feeling like this whole business is futile. But I remain as always grateful for those who think of me in these tagging games ❤️

So here’s some paragraph from Rule Britannia that I’ve already decided to delete and will therefore never see the light of day anyway.

Research was what Alex did best.

But whether out of respect for Henry, or because of the depths of his denial and fears of the truths he might uncover if he persistently dug, Alex had never properly utilised his best skills to help him unravel the mysteries of Henry’s life.

He was also acutely aware of how incomplete a picture the public record painted of the inner lives of public figures, having been one for the majority of his life. He knew that even when there was a mountain of information about a person from relatively trustworthy and less-biased sources, the information could still be misleading. He pictured Nora crossing her arms and reminding him that not all data was useful, and that some of it was just noise obfuscating the truth.

But Henry was a noisy fuck (in every sense of the word) and in the absence of any straightforward answers from the arseholes in Henry’s orbit, Alex felt as if he had no choice but to give in to his most curious impulses. With a few fortifying shots of liquid courage, Alex set about researching the trail of dead men left in Henry’s wake, and the living shadows that haunted him.

Open tag, if anyone still hasn’t done theirs!

[tolnas-vault]

Announcing The Wroot of Romance Fic Collab.

Sign up on the Tolna's Vault Discord Server.

Show Your Love For Barcus Wroot By Participating In This Collaborative Fanfiction Series of Barcus Wroot Ships.

The Premise

The idea is that Barcus is going to go through the game timeline and meet a lot of different people. Some of these encounters will cause some canon divergence, but the game timeline will be mostly kept. There will be smut, fluff, friendship - whatever you want to write! Each chapter will focus on a single partnering, with a title relating to it in the format “The Wroot of _____” in which the blank relates to the partner or the relationship between them. Writers signing up can volunteer for a listed character or add a new character to the list that they want to write about, and after the sign up period we will check the assignments and decide an order together.

How To Sign Up

Join the Tolna's Vault Discord Server (invite link above) and follow the link to the sign up spreadsheet featured in the Wroot of Romance event description, and pinned in the #the-wroot-of-romance-collab channel.

You will also need to have an AO3 account and share your username with us - there is a second tab in the spreadsheet with a table to add your aliases!

The table should be pretty simple to use. If there’s a character not on the list that you’d like to add, put them in a new row! You can also add title suggestions if you think of something fun, and we’ll all agree on the final titles that fit best when the event starts. There’s a column to volunteer to write a character, and you’re welcome to add your name here as long as you don’t remove anyone else’s without their permission - for now keep it to your Discord username from Tolna’s so we know who you are! We will add a column for AO3 names and other aliases later.

Each character will get one chapter written by one writer (unless two or more agree to collab on a single chapter together), and if several people have interest in the same character we can work it out in the server together.

Event Timeline

Sign ups will end on the 1st May to allow us a day or so to ensure we have the writers set up with their pairing(s). Then we will work together on an order/structure together so we know the chronological story - and release - order of everyone’s works!  The next deadline is the 10th May - by this date you will need a bullet point summary of your fic plan. That way, you can coordinate with the writers before and after you to ensure we have a cohesive story structure. We might also be able to reference - or even add foreshadowing! - from each others ideas so we can even have some real character development for Barcus as he goes on a very sexy adventure across the sword coast.

The first batches of submissions will be due in by the end of May, and the release schedule will be one chapter every few days through June/maybe July to stagger them for readers but also keep a nice steady flow until we reach the end.

It’s best to publish these as a Series on AO3 with each chapter as a new work (so your “chapter” can have multiple chapters if you need to, particularly if it runs long or you feel it needs a split in the middle to be more reader-friendly). This also means each person’s submission will have its own tags on it, and will be easier to find for those just looking for each individual pairing they like.

The Concept So Far

A chance encounter with Abdirak in act 1 will kickstart this fic series, as this crack ship sparked the idea. Abdirak (in his own unique way) will encourage Barcus to open himself up to new possibilities. And thus we begin Barcus' journey of self discovery and relationship building. Some of his encounters will be romantic, some platonic, some simply smutty. You get to write what you feel is best for the ship you choose.

The Rules

The main thing is to follow all the rules listed in Tolna’s server, make sure your works are tagged appropriately, but otherwise follow your hearts and dreams! Want to go full Dead Dove? Do it! As long as it fits the event, it’s fine. You can also go pure SFW fluff if you want, you don’t have to make it smutty at all unless you want to.

Do be mindful of the people following you directly in the series. You should be able to summarize the "important events" in your fic with as few triggers as possible so people can follow up from your story even if your content isn't to their taste. If you can summarize all your Dead Dove elements with "they had a wild night." you are free to write anything you'd like happening that night in the fic proper. Please try to stick close to the deadlines, but if you are struggling let someone know ASAP and we can work something out! Otherwise? Have fun!

[autumnwhistles]

New excerpt from my Last Life musical! This is from Song 12, Their Dubious Game. Leading up to this, Joel has become the first Red name and the server is ostracising him, as per the rules of the season – however, Scott finds this a little suspicious, recalling his time on 3rd Life where Red-Green alliances were prominent. For the first time he starts to doubt if the games are really what they seem.

Lyrics:

SCOTT: In spring, I dwelled, with my husband long ago We lived among the flowers, no thought for sand or snow… But then he fell to red That should have meant the end If the world truly matched the rulebook in our heads Yet still we stuck as one Our tie was not undone* And looking back, I can remember A fealty shades could not dismember Red, crimson, gold, all indifferent we stayed  The king did not turn from his kingdom, With sun and sands, the swindler remained What changed were the rules, not the game we all played…

*thank you @rurus-kadoo for helpful tweaks with this line!

Extra notes:

THIS IS NOT THE FINAL PRODUCT! I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with all of this so there will be tweaks made.

The voices at the start are a chorus of players singing the previous song, "Green, Crimson, Gold", and will have lyrics as well but they're not included here possibly because I haven't written them yet, so they will sound less messy. This is because the two songs take place at around the same time and I thought it would be a good way to show it + it sounds cool + it shows Scott's attitude to the game compared to various other players, who aren't defying anything and are completely following the rules the game has set.

There are some glitches in the audio, eg 0:42, but they're either in the voice parts which means they'll be fixed during the recording process, or in the parts, which I can fix with splicing in production.

I don't think you have to watch 3L to understand this (though it would probably enhance it and I really recommend it, it's still my favourite Life series) – it is mentioned a few times in the musical but only as "the spring", and not extensively. Everything important that happened in it in relation to this will be explained in said song, and the first song implies that there have been multiple games and that this one takes place in the autumn "red leaves to mark the colours of the first to fall", so hopefully it's not too hard to figure out what "in spring" refers to. I'm following a headcanon I saw during Last Life that 3L took place in spring and LL in autumn, which I really liked but can't remember the poster (help would be appreciated).

That being said feedback on the above point (whether it's clear to understand or not) would be appreciated!

Likewise what it means to be red, etc, will be explained earlier in the musical.

I have alluded to a slight headcanon of my own in that (especially Last Life!)Reds aren't made aggressive, untrustworthy etc just by being Red, it's because that's what everyone just perceives of them as well (I have around 100 words of a fic I started for this actually...).

And yep there's a reference to the first song here (the titles of "the king" – ren, and "the swindler" – scar, being used hehe)!

[my-current-obsession]

I see a lot of people saying that the royals (mostly Alfred, but I’ve seen a fair bit of complaining about all the others too) are statistically bad in Engage. I have to wonder, what difficulty is this based off of? On my Hard playthrough most of the royals were my best units, and Alfred in particular was amazing. Ivy and Celine were probably the weakest two - Ivy due to being a bit slow and having AWFUL dex and luck, and Celine just lacking power due to splitting her attention between strength and magic.

Is it just Maddening that they’re specifically bad for? I have not (and will not) played that mode in any FE but my impression is very much that Maddening mode is a different experience and you’re basically forced to play a certain way to win. That’s probably even more true here since fixed growths are in play, so you can’t count on RNG to give you good units. You have to find the ones that the game wants you to use, and stick with them.

For me, one of the biggest joys of FE has always been the RNG of it all - I love the random growths meaning different characters shine (and suck) each run, which encourages you to give different units a try. I love that, at least on Normal and Hard, you have enough breathing room to basically play how you want - favor the units of your choice, reclass whoever into whichever classes you fancy, etc - and doing so MIGHT make your life harder but probably won’t doom your entire run. The versatility and random nature of your units growths makes strategy & combat in this game infinitely more appealing and adds to its replayability.

Like I LOVE Persona games and Stella Glow (which gameplay wise is fairly similar to FE) but in those games the characters are what they are, and the stats on level-up are set in stone. Once you’ve done ONE run and know what works, Complacent Gaming kicks in and you repeat the exact same steps in future runs. In FE even if you use the same characters in the same classes, their performance WILL vary based on how blessed or cursed the RNG has been for them.

If Maddening IS as difficult and particular as I’m assuming, and basically every unit’s viability is determined from the moment you get them and you HAVE to play a specific way to win... is it really right to judge units based on that specific difficulty? Like, sure, so-and-so SUCKS on Maddening, but so does EVERYONE except this specific handful of units and if you use anyone else you’re just hurting yourself.

I feel like we should be judging characters based off a difficulty where everyone is at least VIABLE from the beginning, but judging how likely they are to REMAIN that way based on their growths/classes/personal skills/etc.

To put it another way, what would a tier list of a Maddening run look like? My impression is that it has two, maybe 3 categories of who you can actually use, who gets benched immediately, and MAYBE a middle category of who exists to fill a spot on the team and take a few hits/deal a smidge of damage for just a little while until someone better comes along to replace them. Meanwhile on Normal and Hard you can have a full spectrum of who on average is statistically the best through the worst, with everything in between. And considering several “unusable” units on Maddening are at least GOOD or even better on a normal or hard run, can you really call them bad? At the very least CLARIFY you mean they’re bad on Maddening specifically instead of in general.

[chihirolovebot]

Are you still taking opinions?

If so, Imma drop this in if you don't mind ;)

Opinion: I really--REALLY--hate how, not just Pregame Shuichi, but all the pregames are portrayed by the fandom. Pregame Shuichi just being a popular example of how crazy the fandom has gotten with their characterizations of these 'blank slates'. It makes me uncomfortable whenever someone portrays Kaede and Kaito as assholes, Kokichi was a precious cinnamon roll, Shuichi as a sexual sad//st that is yandere for Oma, etc. The pregames are either severely ab//sed or ARE the ab//sers

I get it, it's fun to explore the 'dark' side of characters, and the pregames are left up to interpretation/personal headcanons, but it's honestly disturbing that the fandom would glorify themes like this. It says a lot about what the fandom finds attractive and this is the so called 'accepted fanon' we think of

oh my god okay. yes. this. okay.

there is only so much you can infer from like, ten-second clips of kaede, shuichi and kaito pregame that might not even be real. and ofc there is the prologue in the game before the fake memories are implated but, like, everyone just seems to be a slightly more toned-down version of their ingame self??

definitely kaede is the biggest departure when we see her in the tapes. she's definitely apathetic and nihilistic, and some people have pointed out she's slightly harsher to shuichi before the fake memories, but... idk. i don't get how people go to 'complete cold bully' from that. shuichi's might be the most major leap - i feel like him mentioning being a fan of the game he's signing up for is not justification for what's been done to his pregame personality, especially the sadistic yandere personality stuff. just kinda seemed to come out of nowhere.

but, okay, let's be fair and look at the flipside. the question of 'what would make people so young, eighteen or so, sign up to volunteer away their lives?' we know the motivation of kaede, kaito and shuichi from the tapes, if they're even real, but i think it can be fun to examine from the perspective of writers. like, it's not a leap to say that if you're signing up to die on live television at age eighteen or so you can't be in the healthiest of places mentally. and then it's not a leap from there to just make up your own personalities based on their actions and ingame selves. idk if anyone's read that reader insert book by invertedphasmagoria on ao3, but on the first page they detail what they imagine to be the pregame character's personalities and why and, yeah, it feeds into a lot of the common stereotypes around the characters and probably even influenced them considering how popular it is.

all this to say. i don't think it's a major leap to assume that the kids aren't, you know, well. considering they're volunteering to die or kill for other people's entertainment. but, you know, there's nothing the danganronpa fandom loves more than character flagellation, and i think people just got extremely carried away and stripped what could've been rich and complex characters down to a few basic tropes, the ones you mentioned of shuichi being an obsessive fan, kaito being an aggressive delinquent, kokichi being a softboy, etc. to the point where some people literally take these as canon and refuse to see the pregame personalities in any other aspect.

idk. many thoughts on this. i think there are worse things that have happened in terms of character assassination but it's definitely a weird thing.

[thefaeriefeatherdark]

If you're players really want a cool magical item, give them a list of ingredients they need for it instead of handing it to them.

Especially if they want to make their own.

[tired-spider]

I'm realizing why it might have been a bad idea to write my first long campaign using a game system I've never written a oneshot for.

[transgaysex]

im going to sleep here in a bit but i just like. started thinking about outer wilds

[venusofsuburbia]

Okay I love all of the WIP you shared but Guy Ritchie’s England and Rombare both are pinging my interest antennae the most.

Guy Ritchie's England: why is it called this? it's gone through so many revamps and rewrites that it's now set in New York. it originally started as a treatment concept for a Guy Ritchie movie and now it's too late, the title's stuck.

Evie is the daughter of a very successful (and newly legitimate) crime family who's been her dad's right-hand woman her whole life. Tommy is a first-generation American who's out to get what he can from those who can afford it, and lbr, that's Evie. he kidnaps her, holds her for ransom, steals her heart, breaks it, and dumps her on the sidewalk once the money's in his hands. this all takes place before the actual events of the story, and while it may sound uncharitable to Tommy (he's a sweet guy, really), Evie always did like a man with a mean streak (to match hers).

“It’s nobody’s fault, Tom, it just… hurt like a bitch.” “I didn’t think you ever wanted to see me again.” Evie turned to look at him. She could just make out the faint glow of his profile in the pale light that filtered through the blinds. His eyes - dark, and stormy as usual - were fixed on the ceiling.  “That was all I wanted,” she said quietly.

Rombare: okay so apparently this is the Italian word for the noise an engine makes when you rev it. vroom vroom bitch let's goooooooo

not only is Jackie a female driver, she's also an American; so between her background, her ambition, and the shit she's dealt with for years, she is easily the sweariest of my protagonists. she likes her team, she really does, but a bitch does want a championship and it's hard to make that happen when your teammate is a big shot with multiple titles of his own. the conflict is mostly external - how do you keep secret your relationship with your boss, especially when he's now your professional rival? and when it inevitably comes out, how do you prove your accomplishments are legit? I don't have a good answer for this, and I'm starting to suspect the answer is... you don't. you just gotta let people say what they're gonna say, and that's realism, baby.

“We think you’re good enough for the championship.” When Jackie chuckled, Vince clarified. “But not in that car.” A long pause while his meaning sank in. “We have a proposition for you.” Shifting the phone to her other ear, she leaned against the window, the gray Parisian sky so bright it almost hurt her eyes. The Eiffel Tower seemed tiny, and impossibly far away. “What exactly am I being propositioned for?” “You’ve been an inspiration to us here on this side of the pond. We’re fielding an American team as of next year, and we want you to drive. It was never really a question for us; we can’t not have the American driver, especially considering your talent and potential.” “Think about it. The first woman ever to win it all. And the first American— with an American team. You’d be the pride of your country. You’d be a legend.” It was only when she ended the call that Jackie realized how fast her heart was racing.