#more likely to encounter road kill and all or have a mouse die in your wall :(

[magioffire]

the fact that i know that the ‘rotting fruit’ scent in that perfume is likely supposed to the scent of death, because ive smelled enough death in my life unfortunately to know death smells like rotting mangoes/fruit. like thanks i would love to smell like death itself

[charlettebffxiv]

Prompt #17 Destruct

“So, what happens when you can’t keep one?” Maxim stood with his hands on the handle of his rake, the pile of leaves they had been collecting having grown almost as tall as him. Autumn was arriving, and with it the leaves had started to tumble. Willow’s Heart, like most Gridanian-esque villages, was lined with trees all throughout the winding roads and flanking forest. Which meant, plenty of mulch to be found for the Greenhouse, and other projects, and lots and lots of leaves, seeds and nuts to trip, slip and fall into. Charlette had just finished raking a fine mess of them up to the second mountain they had built so far, looking up at Maxim as she wrestled it along. “What? You mean an aberration? Depends on what kind, really. They come in different forms. Enchanted items, crystals, magitek devices, aberrant creatures, ‘afflicted’ or ‘affected’ people.” One of Maxim’s white-blond eyebrows lifted, you could barely see it was there against his pale skin. “What’s the difference between ‘afflicted’ and ‘affected?” turning her rake over, and using it to scoop up the leaves, Charlette dumped them atop the pile, watching plenty scatter back down anyway. “It is simple, really. One is always a victim, the other’s condition was intentional.” Maxim walked around their autumn monument, cleaning up the edges, every leaf swept into it. Neat, orderly, Charlette approved of his technique. “So, like, if someone experimented on me and gave me, say, webbed feet and fingers against my will? That’s afflicted?” Charlette nodded “And if you intentionally experimented with forbidden magics to give yourself webbed fingers and toes, you would be affected. Not the words I would have chosen, but I didn’t write the manuals.”

“Alright, well then, what happens with all of those, if you can’t keep it? Say it’s just too dangerous, like it explodes if you sneeze too close to it.” Bobocufu’s Apprentice Botanist Dylan had pulled his chocobo cart round to their side, and the both of them were hauling their collection into the back of it as they spoke. Pitch forks swung back and forth, their rhythm quite in-sync. Their words were a little wheezy from the effort. “Well, enhanced items can sometimes be destroyed on sight. That is a common one when the item is too big, or too dangerous to transport. They teach a few useful techniques for it, depending on your team composition and specialty. Guardians, like me, learn how to neutralize aether in small areas, but with time and chance, we can completely neutralize an object. Revert it back to being just a bowl or knife or whatever it is. Same with crystals.'' Their work was finished quickly, Charlette and Maxim waving to Dylan as he nudged the chocobo into action and took away a twelvemoon’s supply of mulch. “And if you don’t have a Guardian? What then?” Charlette was not sure if she should be telling Maxim this, then again he is a Willow’s Heart native. Born and bred here. His family must know nearly everything by now, might as well help him along. “If you are an Arcanist of the Order, you may know a similar technique as Guardians, but more concentrated. Usually disposal falls to the Arcanists, so they are the most prepared for it. If this fails though, there is always option number two: destroy it.” Now Maxim was focused, the man having a somewhat worrying delight towards explosives and anything else capable of creating fire. “Arcanists can manage magic strong enough to melt metal, turn entire houses into ashes, burn trees to the ground, freeze constructs and shatter them to pieces. There is a wealth of options for them. If you are a trained Agent of the Order, you generally will know how to make some explosives. A large bomb is an effective ‘neutralizing’ method as well.” Maxim nodded, like he was agreeing with Charlette. She supposed this was a subject that at least he could be about as correct as she would. “What about creatures and people?” It was here that Charlette went quiet, just packing away their tools into their own cart. Hauling herself up into the driver’s seat, Maxim sitting next to her and taking the reins and getting the bo moving. Seems he was patient this sun. The cart trundled down the road, leaves shivering about in the back. Maxim finally turned to Charlette, nudging her with his elbow “Well? That’s long enough. Give up the gory details, do you have giant mouse traps for oversized, aberrant rodents?” That thought was a little horrifying “No, though that would be funny, and horrible. Can you imagine the clean-up for such a thing? Ugh.” She gave a short shiver. Maxim having evoked some all too similar memories of missions passed “With creatures it can sometimes be much the same, though if you use any kind of neutralizing techniques that involve stopping or removing their aether, they generally die. And it is not a pleasant thing to witness or inflict on anything living. It is slow, and they panic, slowly get more and more tired and weaker, they stop trying to run after a little while. Then they just lay down, and die.” Maxim’s brows had furrowed, and his mouth was in a comically deep frown, creasing his cheeks and chin. “That’s grim Charlette, you’ve ruined my good mood.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, then you should not have asked. I find I prefer a bomb, or pyrotechnics that do not waste time and get it over with immediately, but it is not always an option. Aberrations can be incredibly resistant, by design or by adaptation. Sometimes taking the aether is the only way you can harm them. The hardest part is simply that it is not their fault. Never, not when it is a beastkin, or vilekin, or any kin that is not, well us.” Her driving companion needed a little moment to think that through. The differences between their experiences showing a little in his moment of thought. His life in the village and surrounding forest was not devoid of violence, but certainly lacked in the kind Charlette had seen, and had to be a part of. Cruel pragmatism in the face of Conservationist Optimism. It was a strange pairing. “I suppose I can get it. Nature is cruel like that too, sometimes. There’s usually a sense to it though, a reason but without a selfish designer, you know? No insane Arcanist, or deranged Thaumaturge behind it all. No corrupt Conjurer or tempered Mage. Just The Shroud, the forest, keeping itself as it is.” Charlette’s shoulder bumped into his, but not from the sway of the cart. “You sound morose Maxim. Let’s talk about something else.” He looked at her and shook his head “Nah, I’m fine. Just one more thing to go anyway, what happens with the people?” She was hoping to avoid this one. Their arrival at the Greenhouse gave her a precious moment of distraction as they prepared to unload. Leaves hauled into the compost, Chocobo released from the cart and walked back to the stables and their tools set in the shed. Both of them pulled off their overalls and scrubbed the dirt from their arms and faces at the water trough. “People are the hardest part.” Maxim was tying back his long, now slightly damp hair into the tail he usually wore it in, Charlette’s words catching him with a little surprise “What? Oh, yeah. I mean, I thought they would be. Stuff is just stuff, and I guess we’ve all seen animals getting the short end of the stick at some point. What makes it so hard?” Charlette knelt over the trough, running her arm under the tap as water poured out, scrubbing from wrist to shoulder. “That it is never obvious what you need to do. If they are too dangerous to allow to be free, but can be contained, they are. Usually by local authorities if they are capable of doing so, or by us if it is an extreme case. No, I’m not telling you where or how.” That was an actual secret, and she also didn’t think he was ready to know about the stasis process. Few people are, she wasn't when she learned how to do it. “But if they are too dangerous to be contained, or allowed free again, and if they do not self-destruct in the encounter. Well, we kill them. In much the same way as the creatures.” Maxim was moving a little slower now, his thoughts taking precedence on his focus “That’s rather harsh, don’t you think? Afflicted and affected alike?” Charlette nodded, finally more or less clean, and pulled her shirt over her head. “There’s generally no choice when it comes down to that, they often force our hand, whether they meant to or not. It just needs to be done, despite it being a desperately unfortunate situation, it needs to happen. So we do it.” She turned around, her top needing a few laces tied at the back, which Maxim attends to easily. He’s quite nimble with his long fingers. “I’m sorry you have to.” “I am not. It’s a good purpose to have.” “So is Botany, you know. Making life, and you still get to end some if that’s all you’re after.” Once finished he pats her on the shoulder, both of them looking a sight better than before. She does need to wipe a soil stain from Maxim’s nose though, which she does so with spit and a hard rub of her thumb, to his annoyance. “I know. It is partly why I am not rushing them about the hearing. I have… rather enjoyed helping things live, instead of destroying them, for a change.” He was still wiping at his nose with a sleeve, making it look extra red against his pallor. “Yeah, well, you’re welcome to hang around as long as you want. I’m gonna miss you when you’re back to murdering for the good of us all.” “Please don’t call it that.” “Sorry. Fixing things? Sounds a bit better. Like you’re an engineer.” he winked, Charlette gave him what he wanted and rolled her eyes again, with a big sigh, then started walking back home. Maxim ran to catch-up with her. She liked that though, being a ‘fixer’. She had never thought of it that way, and you know what? It helped, with that sadness that hangs around it all.

[starring-movies]

Killing Eve: Episode Analysis

*SPOILERS*

Season 1, Episode 3 - Don’t I Know You?

Episode 3 begins with Eve giving a description of Villanelle to an e-fit (Electronic Facial Identification Technique) worker. From Eve’s detailed description it’s evident how much she managed to take in about Villanelle from their short initial encounter. To give such attention to the small details of Villanelle’s appearance that Eve does, shows how Eve must have been attracted to Villanelle when they met. Bill picks up on this attraction from Eve’s description too, as he mentions it to Eve when they’re in the hotel room in Berlin, asking her is she’s “ever been interested in women? Not even ones with delicate features...”. Eve giving a deeper description, talking about Villanelle’s demeanour and interpreting her expression - the “lost look in her eye” and her inaccessibility - also shows how Eve has repeatedly been going over their meeting in her head.

WHile she is killing Zhang Wu [aka Fat Panda], Villanelle tells him to “look at me” so she can watch the spark drain from his eyes, just as she has done for all her kills up to this point. Just like the other kills we also watch Villanelle’s delight in this moment.

When Niko and Eve are examining whether the egg their chicken has laid is safe to eat, at the same time they are also having a second conversation about the risks at Eve’s job. Throughout the conversation Niko and Eve keep getting the egg and Eve’s job confused between which of the two subjects they are talking about. Eggs symbolise new beginnings, new life and unhatched potential, and these things are also descriptions that could be given to Eve’s job - it’s giving her a new start and is ‘unhatching’ her potential to allow her to pursue what she’s passionate about, and as the series continues she does begin a new life. However, Eve questions if the egg is too risky to eat, just as her job is risky and ultimately results in the ending of her marriage and life with Niko.

Bill’s line to his baby saying “Daddy’s going to die, isn’t he”, before he and Eve leave for Berlin, is possibly the only moment that I thought was too on the nose and too blatant in its execution.

After finding and bringing back to her room, Pamela, a woman with as many similarities to Eve as she could possibly hope for, the first thing Villanelle tells Pamela to do is take down her hair. Throughout the scene Villanelle seems to be more focused on the woman’s voluminous curly hair than anything else. The reason for which we obviously know is because women with thick, curly hair remind Villanelle of Anna, however, in this instance Villanelle seems to be purely going for Pamela’s resemblance to Eve. The woman has an American accent, is middle aged, has similar hair, and is dressed in similar clothes to Eve.

If it weren’t already clear that Villanelle was seeking out a stand in for Eve, Villanelle blatantly tells Pamela “I’m going to call you Eve, okay”. Villanelle tells Pamela that she’s going to call her Eve because of a “little biblical fantasy” she has, and it may be stretch but coincidentally Villanelle is wearing a shiny green top like the serpent that tempts Eve in the story of Adam and Eve. Villanelle is a bit like the serpent in the bible story as well, she tempts Eve away form the perfectly happy life that was already laid out for her with the promise of more and something better, just like the serpent.

After Bill apologies to Eve for losing her suitcase, she tells him that it was fine because she hated all her clothes anyway, but the scarf Niko gave her was amongst those clothes. The scarf is the green one with zebras on it, which Villanelle wears later on and is the thing that allows Bill to recognise her when he sees her at the U-Bahn.

Since Eve says she hates all her clothes, we can also assume she hated the scarf and was only upset at losing it because Niko gave it to her, but not because she actually liked it style-wise. Bill’s comment that he was doing Eve a favour from losing the scarf in the suitcase also indicates that even Bill is aware that the scarf is not Eve’s style. This shows that maybe Niko doesn’t know Eve as well as he thinks he does, and contrasts with the scene where Villanelle put out the belt for Eve to try with the blue dress - Villanelle knows Eve’s style better than Niko and she’s hardly met her. Villanelle and Eve’s connection is also shown as Eve says to Elena “you know when your outfit is missing something but you just don’t know what?”; Villanelle knows exactly what the outfit is missing and so not only does she know Eve better than Niko, but she knows Eve and what Eve herself wants better than Eve knows herself.

In Bill and Eve’s conversation with Jin, the Chinese attache, Bill say that kinks are “about someone else taking control”, which is most likely what Eve initially liked about Villanelle when she met her. Considering she was a stranger to Eve, Villanelle was so authoritative when telling Eve to “wear it down”, and Eve let Villanelle “take control” by doing as she said and leaving her hair down.

While Villanelle is listening in on Eve’s video chat with Niko, she rewinds the recording when Bill knocks on Eve’s hotel bedroom door and Niko asks if it’s Bill. Eve later tells Bill that she thinks Niko is jealous of him, and this is something that Villanelle also picked up on, evident from her rewinding the recording to listen to the exchange again. Villanelle takes a mental note of this because if Niko is Eve’s husband and even he is jealous of Bill, then Bill must be more important in Eve’s life. As a result of this, Bill has now also come in the way of Villanelle entering and having importance in Eve’s life. Bill’s interference by stopping Villanelle from following Eve onto the train at the U-Bahn, is also Villanelle’s solidification that he will continue to get in the way of her getting close to Eve and so she might as well just get rid of him now.

During Eve’s dinner with Jin, we also get a refreshing take on what is usually a pretty standard ‘someone needs information out of someone else’ scenario between a man and a woman. Often a scene like this would be entirely of each party just seducing the another throughout the whole thing; in order for one party to get the information out of the other, and for the other party to eventually be willing to give up the information. With Eve, however, she is completely no-nonsense with Jin, who is being rather heavy handed in his attempt to seduce her. Eve wears a nice dress, which was mainly just due to the fact that the place they were meeting was a nice restaurant, but she never returns Jin’s advances or uses her sexuality to get the information out of Jin. She stands her ground and is completely professional and clear from the moment she arrives, saying to him “listen, I’m going to be very upfront here... why did you want to see me, Jin? What do you know?”, continuing to add “I’m not here to entertain you. I’ve got a lot fo work to do”.

It is clear that Villanelle is playing a game with Bill when he’s perusing her after she leaves the U-Bahn. She is more than capable of shaking him off, but she purposefully walks out in the open and continuously checks behind her to make sure he’s still keeping up, so that she can make him think that he has the upper hand. The most clear moment that she does this is when she crosses in front of the tram. She quickly crosses in front of the tram to make Bill think that he’s going to lose her, but once the tram has passed we can see that Villanelle was stood still on the other side of the road waiting, and only begins to walk again once Bill is able to cross the road to catch up with her.

We can see the moment that Villanelle stops the cat and game with Bill when they’re in the club, Funklen, she stops and turns round to look at Bill deliberately, she smiles and then once again becomes focussed and makes a bee line towards him. It was also clear that Villanelle was playing the cat and mouse game earlier when she purposefully bumps into Bill, in the street outside the clothes shop, so that he could see her face.

You can read my previous Killing Eve posts here:-

The First Introduction to Villanelle

The First Introduction to Eve

S1, E1 - Nice Face

S1, E2 - I’ll Deal With Him Later

S1, E4 - Sorry Baby

S1, E5 - I Have a Thing about Bathrooms

S1, E6 - Take Me To The Hole!

S1, E7 - I Don’t Want to Be Free

S1, E8 - God, I’m Tired

S2, E1 - Do You Know How to Dispose of a Body?

S2, E2 - Nice and Neat

S2, E3 - The Hungry Caterpillar

S2, E4 - Desperate Times

S2, E5 - Smell Ya Later

S2, E6 - I Hope You Like Missionary!

S2, E7 - Wide Awake

S2, E8 - You’re Mine

S3, E1 - Slowly Slowly Catchy Monkey

S3, E2 - Management Sucks

S3, E3 - Meetings Have Biscuits

S3, E4 - Still Got It

S3, E5 - Are You From Pinner? [Part 1]

S3, E5 - Are You From Pinner? [Part 2]

S3, E6 - End of Game

S3, E7 - Beautiful Monster

S3, E8 - Are You Leading or Am I? [Part 1]

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[fatgirlsguidetodating]

My bullying hell.

NOTE: I know this isn’t a dating piece (I’m working on a couple of blog posts at the moment though) but I went walking near my old school, which has been demolished for housing although there’s a fight to make it parkland instead, and it brought back memories. I know most of us get bullied for something. For me that was often my weight but in this case it was more. I think this is why I can be so insecure, and sometimes too sensitive and needy. I contemplated changing initials on the off chance any found my blog or twitter but decided not to. Not once did they display an iota of regret. Even as adults they acted like mean girls do you know what, fuck them.

I know that for many people high school can be hell in parts. I know that many kids have been bullied in school. For me that part was almost the entire year of 8th grade, a year so horrible that I regularly contemplated killing myself, cried myself to sleep most nights, woke in the morning crying because God (despite my not believing in God) hadn't answered my prayers to let me just die, and just generally was completely and utterly miserable and totally alone. I remember one day, with my usual puffy red eyes in the morning, thinking how if it were possible that we only get a certain quota of tears in our lifetime that I must surely have used up a shitload of them. I remember mum, in tears with me, having to practically drag me to school. I remember countless meetings with the school social worker, the year co-ordination, the vice principal and mum. All this was because it had been decreed by the popular girl of the class that I was persona non grata. Nobody was allowed to talk to me in class or out of class- unless it was to say something cruel like about how I was fat. That was allowed. Tripping me over was allowed. Knocking my bag or books over so I had to pick everything up was allowed. Pulling my school dress or skirt up to laugh at my fat arse in front of the boys was allowed. But nice things? No.

There were only 2 people who went against this. On one occasion one of the boys who I had also gone to primary school with asked me if I was ok? Such small words. I managed to nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. "Hang in there," he said. "It'll blow over." I had to hide my face behind my then long hair so he- and nobody- saw my tears. That one simple act of kindness meant more than he will ever know.

The second was when one of the girls I used to hang around with before the decree returned a book she borrowed from me. Her little sister had made a mess of the book. She offered to buy me another one to replace it. I said it was fine. I didn't need to be hated anymore than I was. She left me a note inside the book apologising and signing it with xoxo. I remember thinking how hollow it was given she hadn't spoken to me in a few months. But at the same time I appreciated it.

How did this happen? In an absolutely ridiculous fashion.

Something mean was written about me on a table: it said, in essence, my name is X and 1) I want to be TC’s girlfriend (ironic as he was my best friend), 2) GW’sbest friend , 3) I never have showers and I think there MAY have been a fourth one but I can't for the life of me remember what it said. I think I blocked a lot of that year out. My minds way of protecting myself I guess, like people often do for traumatic events.

As an adult I can say they were relatively benign statements but as a 14 year old they weren't. The thing was the popular girl, LA (now LH) decided that I had written them about myself. (Seriously!) Her reasoning: it looked "kinda" like my handwriting (it didn't) and it looked like it was written by my pen (one owned by something like half the class including, ironically, her). Interestingly a few months later one of the popular girls told me that she had seen her coming out of that classroom at one of the break tones not long before it was discovered. I'll never know who did it but the simple fact that the popular girl said it was me meant that naturally the class agreed with her.

So when she said nobody was to talk to me they all just did it. Not a single person stood up for me. I have felt lonely at many, many times in my life (haven't we all) but the loneliness of that one moment will never ever be forgotten. Even now I feel literally sick as I remember that moment. It was like one of those movies where you wake up from a dream and everyone's gone, and you are all alone. Or a dream where you suddenly become invisible and no matter how much you scream and jump up and down and wave your hands you remain invisible.

I had hoped that maybe my friends would have stuck up for me. I would even have taken them doing it not publicly but privately if they were too scared to disobey or too ashamed to be my friend in front of the popular girl and her best friend JB (now JI) my two tormentors. Like still hanging out with me at lunch and recess. The popular girl wouldn't know after all. But no. Even the girls I had hung with pretty much since the start of school when we'd made friends with me followed and I was suddenly cut off from everyone, completely and utterly alone....

There are some things that stand out from the next eight or so months, things beyond the pain and loneliness. Moments where the bullying was worse than the usual daily taunts. Like the time they soaked a bunch of tampons in water so they became nice and big and ran around the corner and threw them all at me. Because I found a spot to sit and have my lunch all alone day in day out. Technically, being at the front side of the school, near the road, it was out of bounds but I didn't care. On rainy days I got a bit wet but I didn't care- I even thought well maybe I'll get pneumonia and even if I don't get lucky enough to die from it I could get some time off school, away from my living hell. Sometimes I'd eat quickly- prompting comments from the girls about how fat people like me ate too quick- and then go to the library to hide in a corner and read. Being a bookworm over those eight or so months I got through even more books that I ever imagined I could.

I was trying to eat healthy (I was on a diet which, lets face it, I have been on for most of my life!) and I often had those little tubs of two fruits in my lunch. The girls would sneak around and laugh at my lunch. I'd be tripped over, had leftover bits of food thrown at me, was called fat and ugly so many times that even now I say it about myself and actually mean it. One day after PE I discovered my watch had been stolen from the box we put all our special items in. It was a Mickey Mouse watch I got from Disneyland that played music. I was devastated. These girls that I speak of were- surprisingly- not my two tormentors, the instigator of it all, but my former friends. I think that these girls, and the few boys who sometimes hung out with them, were actually crueler to me than the popular girl and her friend. I could never understand that. I still don't.

For almost eight months my mum battled with the school to have me moved to another form but they kept saying that the numbers were at maximum in each form. I offered at one point to take a lie detector test to prove I hadn't written those things. I spent way too many hours in the social workers office in tears.

At one point all of a sudden one of the boys started being nice to me. I lapped up the kindness, kind of like how an abused dog will still always want their masters approval. Every kind word was like a balm on my soul. He'd come and sit with me sometimes at lunch and we would talk and laugh. It was only when someone slipped a note in my locker- I suspect the girl who returned the book- telling me that he had been given a dare by the two tormentors to get me to sleep with him. Needless to say the next time he came to see me I said to him "I know what you're doing. I know it's a dare and you've been telling them everything I said!" (Probably one of the only times in my life I stood up for myself.) He didn't even look ashamed or guilty, he laughed and said "well I wouldn't sleep with a fat four eyes like you for no reason. You are pretty dumb for believing it." Perhaps the saddest thing was the fact that I contemplated not telling him I knew. Oh I wouldn't have gone so far as to sleep with him knowing what I knew but to just continue the ruse for awhile because he provided the only conversation in school hours, the only kindness, in all the pain and loneliness. But, ultimately, I knew being alone was better than living a lie.

My persona non grata status didn't extend to just my class. All the popular kids knew not to talk to me and to make fun of me or even spit on me if I walked past. One of them even tripped me up on the top of the stairs so I went flying down them, landing on my side so hard it was bruised and hard to breathe for ages. I never told on them. I knew that "dobbing" would just make my life worse. Though how they could have made it worse than that I will never know.

The worst moment was when I actually did attempt to kill myself. This is something I haven't ever told a single soul. My mum only found out I had wanted to kill myself a few months ago- not that I attempted it a couple of times- and she was devastated. But I never told her at the time because I saw how much it pained her to see me so unhappy. I couldn't burden her anymore. The night it happened was a Sunday night, the night before school started again for the new term. I was pretty naive. It was pre-Internet which, in retrospect is probably a good thing because had Google existed back then I would have found a way to do it. I took a packet and a half of Panadol. I thought surely that was enough. It wasn't. Not only did I not die, but I simply woke up the next morning feeling like absolute shit.

The turning point came about seven months in. A chance encounter in the library with one of the girls I'd gone to primary school with and I told her about what my life was like. She was horrified and said I could come and hang with her friends sometimes. Not all the time, she said, because they wouldn't like that but sometimes. I probably should have thought it a strange offer but needless to say at the time a little bit was better than nothing. So maybe two or three times a week at lunch mainly I would go and hang with them. I didn't really say much. I had always been shy but my ordeal had made me even more so. When people came up behind me and stuck crap down the back of my top or yelled "boo fatty four eyes" suddenly I would jump a mile. If I saw one of my two tormentors or any of their friends I would instantly start shaking waiting for what they would do or say this time. They soon learnt they didn't even need to speak, just look at me, and I'd be affected. So when my school friend said to me that I couldn't really hang out with them anymore because the others thought I was stuck up (because I didn't speak much) I didn't feel much emotion. It seemed to me that it was perfectly right. Why WOULDN'T they reject me too? Who would even WANT to be friends with someone like me?

Finally, FINALLY, after eight months battling the school by mum they let me move classes. Not to the form I wanted to go in as by then I had made a couple of friends through my childhood male best friend who lived a few houses up and I had known since we were three and who I spent most weekends and school holidays with along with my brother and his younger sister who were in the same year, but a new one nonetheless.

It was the middle of second period, I think, that I was moved. The class were in the science block so I'm guessing it was a science class but I can't quite remember. The year level co-ordinator took me in there and just said, "X is in this class now. She's been given the class schedule." Of course everyone turned to look at me curiously. I slipped into a seat in the back of the room and put my head down. At the desk next along from me were three girls. At one point they said my name and I looked up and asked "yes?" I was given a withering look. "I wasn't talking to you. X here has the same name as you." I was told.

The next period those three girls asked me to sit with them and asked plenty of questions. But then after lunch they told me they'd spoken to my main tormentor and knew who I was and what I did. Great, I remember thinking, I could never ever leave it behind me!

But, slowly, over the remaining few months in the year I began to make friends. There were four girls in my form who became my friends- to this day one of them remains one of my best friends- and from another form there were another two. The six of them hung around together and, as time went on, I became part of their group. There were another few girls in the form who sometimes came to hang out with us.

I was with two of them (both had the same name and it also coincidentally happened to be the name of my main tormentor) one day walking across the courtyard when my tormentor and her best friend (the girl who had been one of my close friends for years before this all happened and who's friendship with me seemed to threaten my main tormentor for some reason before the table incident) suddenly appeared. Apparently someone had written something in chalk in the girls toilet near the year ten common room (or it may have been year twelve then, I can't remember when the merger happened) about her and I was blamed. One of the girls stood up for me, pointing out there were many with her name including my two new friends. But no. It was definitely about her because it had her last initial or name. She tried to get in my face, telling me she knew it was me and I had mental problems etc but my two new friends basically stood in front of her. They were a bit tough and told her that she'd have to go through them to get to me. She chose to walk away.

Though she did get the popular girls in my class to make extra fun of me for a bit but all of a sudden it was water off a ducks back because I had my new friends. They did try and get them to abandon me, telling them what I had done but I'd already told them my side and all the pain- though I had edited it because it was too raw to tell the whole truth, in all its intricate and painful details that soon- and the attempts failed.

Soon it was summer and I spent much of it with my new friends.

In the next school year my old friends and my tormentors still would make smart comments or something when I walked past but the more I ignored it, the more I showed no reaction, the less they did it though it never totally stopped throughout my whole time at high school.

Teenagers can be cruel and girls I think the cruelest of the bunch. Sure teenage boys can be cruel too but girls are bitchy and that is much worse in my opinion. Boys might have a fight and then it's done with. Girls will just bitch and snipe and make you miserable. My tormentors never said sorry, never acknowledged I didn't do it. I occasionally see their names pop up as comments on mutual friends posts on Facebook and I look at their profiles and see how perfect their lives seem. Both are married, one has two kids, one has one. I wonder, when I see them, how it's fair that they get the perfect life and I don't. There is no sign of karma having ever gone their way for what they did to me. As for the girls who were my friends before the decree, I'm Facebook friends with a couple of them. We never really spoke again at school. But, with school far behind us and time dulling some of the bad memories and letting most people look back at their school days as the halcyon days of youth, and remember the good times not the bad, a couple of them are friends on Facebook. Only one have I ever really caught up with but another two I do talk to sometimes on there.

I do believe that, to this day, it has affected me. Just writing this is affecting me: for instance I'm feeling a bit sick, my hands are a bit shaky, and I feel like I want to have a bit of a cry. (Yes- I still have tears left despite those eight long months. The human body can be, I think, up to 65% water. I swear back then my percentage was much lower because of my nightly crying myself to sleep.) But I feel good having written this, having gotten one of my stories off my chest. Sure there are others in my life I may talk about in the future but this is one that shaped me. For instance I know I can be a bit of a needy friend, wanting to see friends more often, wondering when I haven't heard from them in a certain amount of time if I've been replaced or done something to make them angry or upset. I take things way too personally, am far too sensitive about things said or done, I overthink things. And I have no self-confidence at all. I don't see the good in me. Outside or in. When someone gives me a compliment my first reaction is to laugh at them. Especially if they say something positive about my body. I look at them and I say, "are you blind?"

If you take anything from my story please let it be this: kindness doesn't cost a thing and just a little bit can truly make a major difference in someone's life. Bullying- whether it's a child, teenager or even an adult- can really fuck someone's life up. And words- like fat four eyes- can do just as much damage, in fact I would argue MORE than hands. Words CAN hurt. Words can linger in a person's mind years and years after they have been said. They can affect the way they live their life and choices they make. They can reverberate in a person's brain for years. So please be kind. And if you are lucky enough to have kids teach them that too. Because- especially with the proliferation of social media in our lives- words can lead to people taking their lives. That stupid little childhood singsong retort to insults "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" is a load of utter bullshit. Words- just like actions- can kill. Bullying can kill.

[teamhook]

CSSNS 2018

Thanks again to @kmomof4 @cssns for organizing the thing… I know you’re at it again recruiting for the new year.

Guys, please don’t hesitate in participating. You’ll make new friends and some friendships will only get stronger.

Thanks to @hookedonapirate for her Beta services. She is amazing. :) I’m lucky to have you.

Thanks to @kymbersmith-90 @revanmeetra87 @searchingwardrobes for their support and help cause I tend to freak out. :p

Tagging: @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @ilovemesomekillianjones @branlovestowrite @courtorderedcake @gingerchangeling 

and the CSSNS Crew.

|AO3|  |FFN|

Chapter 7:

The road so far...

Killian finds out of his dark fate and unleashes his anger allowing darkness to feed on his thirst for vengeance.

~~~

Years had passed for the man who sat in the darkest corner of the Crow's Nest Tavern. He kept his back to the wall as he watched the depravity of the group. He especially hated the man-handling of the barmaids.

A ghost from his past entered. The crew was loud and rowdy, no longer a merchant ship crew. They were now privateers. One of the men recognized Killian and approached his table.  

"If it isn't Killian Jones, the little brother of the sanctimonious Liam Jones. I see His Majesty’s Royal Navy didn't want you either." Captain Silver taunted as his crew laughed.

Killian hissed, his fangs surfacing. He looked up and his dark blue eyes had turned into an icy blue, almost white, shade.

In an instant, he rose from his chair and rounded the table. "I remember you, how could I forget?" He held out his hand and pointed to the still Captain Silver. "Oh yes, I remember you, Captain." His index finger trailed along the throat of his intended and broke the skin, his hook slamming and puncturing the wooden table. He tilted his head and whispered, "I'm going to enjoy this. However, I'm a man of honor, and therefore I will give you lot a head start."

The crew managed to come to their senses, they grabbed their Captain and left the tavern in a hurry.  They scampered out as fast as humanly possible, but Killian was faster.

He stood facing the ship that was his home for so long, waiting for the crew to arrive.

Captain Silver saw as his crew fell, one after the other. Their bloodied bodies dropped to the floor as Killian made his way to his former Captain and tormentor.

Captain Silver started to plea with Killian as he came closer to him, "Please, Killian, I don't want to die." he stuttered, "What would your brother Liam want you to do?"

"Liam would want me to not play with my food, calling it bad form." As Killian swiftly moved to hold the older man in place, his fangs punctured the skin and he drained him dry. Satisfied with finally taking his revenge from the man who tortured him in his youth, he strode to the other dead crew members and relieved them of a few trinkets. It wasn't about the wealth of the trophies, but what they symbolized.

Killian strode towards his ship. It had been so long since he was this calm. He had managed to make his foes pay for their transgressions. Ah, except the Spinner and Zoso. Killian had learned a few things from the contracts he had taken from his house and slowly made his way through the names on the signed deals.

Milah’s husband had turned out to be elusive. Zoso, on the other hand, would show up to give his approval. The more bloodshed the better, but Killian had found there was one thing that irritated the “man” to the end of time. That was simple - Killian dispatching his henchmen and women. Anyone that bared his mark was fair game. He smiled at the thought.

He kept on the path to his beloved ship - his only family left. It was strange to think of the ship as family, but she had become that after all the time that had passed since his brother’s loss. It was obvious that Zoso would kill anyone that mattered to him, so Killian decided to not get a new crew.

That meant no one to leave on guard of the Jolly. It turned out the ship was made with Enchanted Wood and was magical, and he was fast enough to do it all. He was still trying to understand his abilities because being a daywalker was not the only thing he could do.

The fact that the Jolly was unguarded made the ship very desirable.

Pirates.  

There had been a few pirate captains who had tried to claim the Jolly as their own and succeeded temporarily, but eventually, Killian would catch up and make them pay dearly. No survivors, no quarter.  

The last one to attempt to take her had been the fearsome Blackbeard. Once he caught up with him, Killian had enjoyed toying with him. He took his time, played a small game of cat and mouse with the man. A sword dance he had missed since becoming what he now was. Killian had shown his swordsmanship superiority with each blow he threw. His physical strength gave him an advantage over Blackbeard, and soon each punishing strike became too much for the other man. Killian was subdued by the piercing of flesh, with a combination of hook and sword. Blackbeard’s guts splayed, coloring the deck of the ship.  

It had been reminiscent of his favorite times. When he had his love, his Milah and crew by his side. A small reminder of a time he had some form of happiness.

In the end, it had been such a grim ending for the dastardly captain and his crew that word spread around fast and soon made Killian the scourge of the seas. No one dared to touch the Jolly Roger ever again.

Decades later, at least he thought it had been that long - he lost track of time - Killian arrived at the port town in search of a powerful witch from the neighboring Kingdom. He had hoped to broker a deal with her. He needed to learn about his abilities. But his timing had been off and he was too late. The Evil Queen had perished, if the whispers were to be believed. Yet no one said it out loud, in fear of her appearing and unleashing her fury. He was not surprised the villagers were still afraid of her since all royalty was evil and not to be trusted. He found that her name was quite fitting.

Killian was walking toward the harbor after a disappointing encounter at the Sea Shell Tavern. It was confirmed she was dead, torn apart by some monster.

A peculiar scent caught his attention. He diverted his path and soon was trailing a well-dressed man. The man seemed to be high born and had a busty barmaid on his arm. They were too entertained with each other to notice Killian or the other man lurking in the shadows ahead of him.  

The well-dressed man reeked of dark magic. Perhaps he could be of help to Killian. Perhaps his day was not a total loss.

The man hidden in the shadows emerged with a small dagger and quickly grabbed the well-dressed man. The woman gasped and ran away. No longer distracted by her, the well-dressed man nervously raised his hands to plead for his life. The man with the dagger walked closer to his victim with a wicked smirk.

Killian made his move, and with a swift motion of his hooked arm, the man with the dagger slumped before his feet.

The victim gasped, "Thank you."

Killian's head tilted in response and he leaned toward the man. "Killian Jones, but most people have taken to call me by my more colorful moniker, Hook," he said, flourishing his bloody hook as he took a vow.

The gasp was barely audible.

Killian's eyes changed to a lighter shade as the man lost his footing and fell on his back. Killian smirked, "Now, now I'm not going to kill you."

"You're not?" the man asked, still on the floor.

"I'm not," Killian confirmed.

The man peered over to see the bloodied body of his attacker. "Thank you," he said as he slowly got on his feet and attempted to walk away.

Killian laughed, "So typical of the wealthy to just walk away."

The man stopped at his words and turned to face him, "I said thank you."

"Aye, that you did. How about you tell me why you stink of powerful dark magic?"

The man paled as he looked around. "What are you talking about?"

"I can smell it all over you. No need to be nervous, calm down, mate. Your heart is beating so fast it might just jump out of your chest. Then what would be the point of saving you?"

"You smell it? But how? I didn't know dark magic had a scent." The poor man was so confused.

Killian laughed, "I can smell things others can't."

"How is that possible? Are you some kind of monster?" His curiosity winning, he moved closer to his new benefactor.

With a roll of his eyes, Killian set his gaze on the man in front of him, the shade of his eyes changing to an icy blue. "Your name?"

Without hesitation, the man answered, "Victor Frankenstein."

Killian maintained his gaze with the man. "Victor, why is there dark magic all around you?"

"The Evil Queen sought my services, and her dark magic lingers around me even after her death," he answered, emotionless.

"Ah, what kind of services did she require?" Killian prodded.

"Her dead lover back to life," the man answered.

"Are you some kind of sorcerer? Because that is not possible." Killian knew there were things he didn’t know, but to bring back the dead, he was sure couldn't be done.

"Not magic, science. I'm a doctor," Victor said, still unable to resist the need to respond.

"Is she truly dead?"

"I was successful, but something was wrong, he - her lover - was not normal. He was violent and she couldn't put him out of his misery. So he put her out of hers. I had to hide from the monster and flee her castle to save my life."

"What became of the monster?" Killian’s interrogation continued.

"He fled to a nearby village and slaughtered everyone he faced. Until some sort of hunter finally ended his rampage.” With that final answer, Killian released his hold on the doctor.

Desperation could lead to one's doom. It had claimed many lives and would most likely claim millions more. For Victor Frankenstein, it was his desperate need to prove to his father he wasn't a failure and that he had put his faith on the wrong son. His father, Alphonse doted on his brother Gerhardt. Victor loved his brother, but he also yearned for his father's approval. Alphonse had always thought of his son, Victor, as strange. Since he was a child, Victor would dissect insects, animals or whatever living thing he could get his hands on, and put them back together. His mother had told his father he was a curious boy.

Alphonse gave both of his sons a gift. To his favorite, Gerhardt, he gave a watch that had belonged to their mother, and Victor's gift was a commission to join the army as a physician. Alphonse hoped the army would end his son's scientific exploits, which has been funded by his father's money and housed in the family's summer home. Victor begged his father to let him continue his life's work, but his father refused to continue supporting his endeavors, and it cost his brother, Gerhardt’s, life. In his desperate need to continue his research, and bring his brother back to life, he was made a proposal he happily accepted. A proposal that offered the guarantee of success.

Years later, he found himself in front of a new benefactor, stuck in a different realm with a new motive - his survival.

That was how the friendship of Killian Jones and Victor Whale, formerly Frankenstein, began. Victor informed Killian of the magic books he had grabbed as he exited the Queen's castle and ran for his life. Together they researched the books. Victor had been curious about Killian's affliction, once their mistrust for each other faded. Their bond only increased once they realized they had a similar loss; they both lost brothers they loved and admired, men they considered better men than themselves.

Victor had offered his help since Killian saved his life. While studying Killian’s blood, Victor noticed the blood cells rejuvenated a sample of his own. He knew he could find a cure, but he needed time. For now, the doctor decided to develop a serum for Killian, using a combination of science and magic. He opted to inject himself with small amounts of Killian’s blood to halt his aging. The serum helped Killian so his need for blood could be controlled. On rare occasions, Killian would feed on willing participants. He would pay handsomely and never lost control. He would only allow himself to lose control in the presence of one of Zoso's people.

Endless blue water surrounded the group of Isles that were connected by clear waterfalls, the white sand beaches extending to kiss the surrounding sea. Not far from the shore, there were farms with perfectly ripe fruits and vegetables.

The Isles had a protective barrier around them, powered by the bloodline of its inhabitants. Time moved slower; it almost stood still. The Isles lush green lands were blissful.

Like any other civilization, some sort of government was needed for the Isle to function. Here in this magical piece of heaven, there was the council. At the top, there were the strongest wielders of white magic.

On a rare sunny day, a tremor was felt on the Isle. On the beautiful seashore, there was a man with torn, soaked clothes. He gasped for air, gurgled water leaving his windpipe and uttered, "brother," as sleep claimed him.

[toasttz]

Photon Breaker Zechs: Through the Window

The following is a side-novel to Photon Breaker Zechs, a fantastic little tale being told over at my bro's blog dietaku.tumblr.com - where a bunch of plucky misanthropes get thrown into an MMORPG. My story is to be considered side content and, in the event of anything coming off as contradictory, assume that PBZ proper is canon over Through the Window. Lastly, depending on response, this may get moved to its own independent space. Either way, please enjoy! Photon Breaker Zechs: Through the Window Chapter 1: Video games can teach you about yourself I was seriously in over my head. I had gotten cocky and now, it looked like that was going to cost me my life. I stood, back to a row of trees that may as well have been a damned wall, taking stock of the rapidly approaching wolves – each nearly the size of a horse – surrounding me. I lifted my nearly-broken hammer in both hands, having lost my shield some time before during the chase that left me winded and unable to focus. Even were I able to do enough damage to open a path to flee, and assuming my hammer wouldn't just break like a brittle twig, it would do me no good at this point as both my strength and my supplies were tapped. My body was tense, my heart pounding a million miles an hour. It was do-or-die time. Mustering the last ounce of Spirit, I summoned up a manly shout of defiance in the face of impending doom, “Lee-roy—!!!” A sudden, deafening barrage of explosions caused me to hesitate as bodies of the massive wolves were sent sailing aside like mere ragdolls under an intense burst of fire from a source not immediately obvious to me. After forcing my eyes open from reflexively flinching shut, I saw a tall, radiant woman rush into sight, revolvers akimbo, opening fire into the furry fiends. Our mutual foes were soon but a memory as she holstered her weapons and flashed a bucktoothed grin at me, “That was close, wasn't it?!” I let out a sigh and leaned back in my faux-leather office chair, allowing my hands to come off the mouse and keyboard as I felt my tension fade away. My avatar on-screen was left with a meager 43 HP left and nearly-destroyed equipment after a long, maze-like dungeon had seriously done a number on my ego and my supply of HP and Spirit potions. Catching my breath, I opened the in-game chat client and shot back, “Thanks. I owe you one, FluffyStar,” “No sweat, Windowz,” she replied through text, executing the 'excited waving' emote animation, instilling a chuckle from me, “Would you like some help?” “Sounds good. Let's get out of here, my gear is nearly scrap metal,” I explained as she motioned for me to follow. We formed a party so we could properly share experience points and gold coins and she kindly escorted me back to the main town, Strattburg. It all started some time before our lives changed forever at the hands of a mere game. Slidelands was the game to play back then, a massive multiplayer online role playing game, or MMORPG. The game was a genuine worldwide smash hit phenomenon, and received regular expansion packs nearly every year since its launch nearly 15 years ago. My friend, Seamus, a younger guy I met by chance, invited several of his friends, including me, into the fold. Citing a lack of anything better to do, due to a job that involved me getting home in the dead of night and a dash of insomnia, I began to play the game regularly. The first steps of playing a game of this sort is to create your character, as opposed to playing a pre-set hero character – hence 'role playing' game. Also as opposed to games where you don't play a role, I guess. Think those are called 'movies' or 'modern JRPGs' but I digress. The game had disgustingly comprehensive depths for both mechanical and aesthetic customization. My friend, Dieter, literally spent over two hours just on how his character – Deegal – would ultimately look (and about ten minutes on her abilities). After picking your gender and a screenname, I was prompted to pick my “Tron”, class, and race. Slidelands's major selling point, back in the day, was how your characters could pick any of the four Trons (Proton, Neutron, Electron, and Photon) and one from over 30 Class combinations for different stats and abilities. Then you picked a race from out of over 20 options which further changed your growths and native passive specialties. Guides that run longer than dictionaries exist online with intricate detailings of precise, specialized “optimal” builds. However, I opted to cut my own path and designed a character that would be both fun to play and help in team settings – which the game heavily revolved around courtesy of a series of mechanics that were both ill-explained and near-mandatory for making any real progress in the game's story. My character, Windowz, was a Proton-Bunker from the Loppo – or rabbit-man – tribe. I was pleased with his incredibly tall stature and stout, upside-down triangle of a body. I knew from the start I planned to do some heavy-duty damage and be able to take a lot in return, so I was playing the game within about fifteen minutes of concerted effort. The first few tutorials for the game were threadbare (as was the original iteration of the game) and hardly of any use to newcomers. Seamus, or Zechs as his character was dubbed, was the one who really taught me how to play the game in earnest. The two of us made our characters and dove into the introductory quests (of which they were many) and collected our first weapons and armors. Zechs designed a Photon-Breaker which was the middle-of-the-road standard damage/speed class with no major strengths nor weaknesses. The first line of quests are what one might expect – a greeting some some plot-moving NPC who gave us some idea of location – Strattburg as that is where all adventurers begin the game. “Welcome, brave heroes of a far-off land!” the village elder prompted us as we loaded in, “To Strattburg! Where big adventures start! We thank you for coming to us in our hour of need! We have reason to believe you're the chosen ones we've awaited all this time!” “Never mind the millions of 'chosen ones' running around the server already,” Seamus chuckled over the voice chat. “Yeah, running around spouting poorly-spelled memes and lagging the damned server down with not moving their characters out of the load zones,” I clicked my tongue dismissively. “Our first quest is to kill some random monsters just out of town,” Seamus explained, “Seems standard enough!” We formed a two-man party and went out into the grasslands, where random crow and mouse-like enemies passive nibbled at the scenery. The scenery was the idyllic hamlet one found in traditional fantasy, with pleasant breezes making the grass sway around and the monsters here largely ignored players until provoked. On the one hand, I felt a little sociopathic for just massacring these creatures with a colossal warhammer, but on the other, if some random, faceless, nameless NPC tells me it's for humanity's collective benefit and offers payment, who am I to argue with them? Time wore on into the early hours of the morning. “Ah, this has been fun, but I need to get to bed,” Seamus admitted, due in some part to him being in a different time zone than I. “I'm gonna stay and grind a few more levels,” I explained, “I think the town is tapped for quests for now, so where should I go to power-level?” “Well, there's a forest not far from here that most everyone does some fighting in. That should get you started,” he explained simply. “Sounds good. See ya later, dude,” “Yeah, see ya next time, Jake,” Seamus bid me farewell before signing off. As I already said: I worked weird shifts and didn't sleep well at night, so I typically would play well into the early morning and sleep until my shift in the afternoons. So I decided to take my friend up on his advice as I headed into the forest and found the meager squirrel-like Critters small fodder under my tremendous hammer blows. It wasn't particularly fun to pick on the weaklings and I soon set for deeper into the forest for greater challenge. Whereupon I was beaten to near-death by the crazed wolves that lived near the forest's center, necessitating my rescue from some random stranger playing a Loppo woman. Thankfully, I survived the encounter, however narrowly, and soon we were back in the safety of Strattburg, where monsters couldn't spawn in. “Okay, I just wanted to let you know something,” FluffyStar said to me. “What's that?” “Your build is awful. Like, seriously. Did you plan it at all or did you just throw random bits together and hope for the best?” she verbally unloaded, “You should've played a Taurigante or a Zorren,” “Whoa, hey, c'mon. I had a strategy!” I swiftly protested. It's not that I couldn't change classes – players can do that any time they want so long as they're okay with starting said new class at level 1 again – it's that I didn't want to. “Was the strategy dying and not making any real progress?” she jabbed again, “Have you even played this game before?” “Literally, not before today,” I confessed my ignorance, “I thought the dexterity and luck of the Loppo would help me with the heavy weapons Bunkers wield and not make my build so loppo-sided,” I quipped. “I...” she began again before pausing to consider it, “That's not a bad idea, I guess. It's not really meta material, though. Maybe it's an experiment worth conducting... not sure I've seen it done before,” “Okay, so yeah,” I desperately attempted to float my side of the conversation, “Let me run my experiment with a little less venom, yeah?” “I don't have any poison weapons, sorry,” FluffyStar offered. I was kind of at a loss on that one as I couldn't tell if she was serious or not, “Maybe you'd like some assistance in level grinding?” “Sure. Can't sneeze at someone as powerful as you helping!” I chuckled. As any gamer worth their salt would attest: the greatest rewards in an RPG are loot and experience points. Quests being the best through-line to this end, most players end up staying more or less on the railroad that is the early story missions. Fortunately, for nerds like me who find the storylines in MMORPGs interesting, it also included storyline quests that taught us about the world, which I enjoyed completing and reading about. Seamus actually blew well past where I was because I wanted to read their flavor text and learn more about the game world, and he just wanted to hit things with his sword. Before I knew it, FluffyStar and I had played well into the morning and sleep started to overcome me. “This has been fun,” I relented, feeling the weight of my eyelids as I typed into the game's text chat window, “But I need to crash,” “Will you be on tomorrow night?” FluffyStar pried. “Yeah, probably. After I get back from work, I will,” “Great,” she punctuated, “Let me add you to my friends list, so I can see when you arrive,” Ah, the dreaded social systems these games are known for. Elegant in their simplicity and yet sufficient enough to drive those like my good buddy Dieter berserk with fury. Slidelands has many to its name and pioneered many – shall we call them – intricate systems into the core mechanics of the game as a result. Put bluntly: you were not expected to play this game as a lone wolf against all odds. Because of the game's heavy social bent, enemies scale slightly faster than their in-game level suggests, forcing players to team up or be unable to keep up with the progression in difficulty and this infuriated some of my close friends, namely the aforementioned Dieter and another friend, Cog. Who is Cog? Well, he thankfully avoided the fate that we did but not for the best of reasons. He actually played the game a few years before us, whereupon he played the robot race – the Teknos – and discovered that their crowd-dispersal Chaingun Riptide ability could be used to attack fellow players, even if they were in safe zones. So he, having grown bored within his first few minutes of play, parked his character in a field just outside of Strattburg's safe zone and killed unsuspecting new players as they left for 30 minutes – before the server admin banned him for life with no chance at appeal or refund. Not a week later, a hotfix patch went live, removing the Teknos from the game entirely, accompanied by an apology from the game developers and a small cache of Platinum Gems – the premium currency the game uses. Far as I know, it was the only time content was actually removed from the game. But I digress. “Thanks,” I said, seeing Fluffy's name appear in the roster alongside of Zechs and Deegal's, “I appreciate the tutelage,” “I'm just saying: it's not too late to go back and make a better-optimized tank race character,” Fluffy cautioned. I chuckled, “And do the same thing everyone else is doing? Where would the fun in that be?” “You only play for fun?” “Sure do. Isn't that what everyone does?” I offered. “Never thought of it that way before,” she responded after a brief moment of dead air. I didn't really take it to heart, as I was already half-dead with fatigue. The next day went by like oh so many others, coping with my job and commute, before returning home again to my computer. My beautiful hardwood desk and custom-ordered PC tower each cost me a mint in their own respective days. Together, they made up the centerpiece of my tiny studio apartment, and where I spent almost all of my time not dedicated to my eight-hours-a-day grind. And I take this time aside to say that that's not strange or pathetic at all. Shut up. In days to come, FluffyStar taught me just how complex the game actually was in its wellspring of potential customization and timesinks of grinding levels and growth trees and individual talent skills and much more. Not to mention the minigames. In what seemed like no time at all, she even invited me into her guild – The Night Owls. Being part of a guild – particularly one as active as The Night Owls – is really quite the experience. You never look far for parties (teams of up to six players who share all dropped exp and loot) and you end up developing some really cool strategies with others – a tendency Dieter referred to as “slightly more preferable than a violent death by rusty guillotine”. And here I thought I didn't much care for the company of others, but the owls took me in as one of their own. Well, sort of at any rate. “Whoa,” said one nearly-naked avatar as he eyeballed my towering, heavily-armored hero, “This isn't meta-standard at all!” I was as intrigued by his design as he was by mine, but for different reasons. His character was a nearly nude Floof clan male (the first I'd seen in my playtime), clad in a questionable banana hammock, a flowing, pink silk scarf, and a plush doll of a blue whale sitting atop his mane of dark hair. While idling, the character, NeekuthePantsless, would fold his arms across his chest and grin smugly, his long, bushy tail switching from side to side proudly, as if aware how indecent he appeared to be and basking in it. “This game is primarily player versus environment,” I protested, “How is there even a metagame at all?” “How can you even ask something like that?!” Neeku was astonished and annoyed at my exceeding ignorance (or sheer reluctance) on the topic of turning a video game into algebra homework, “The tank meta is so yesterday. Get with it, Windows! Everyone knows the current meta to beat is ProDoZoa!” I was relieved that, being physically removed from this number-crunching scrub, they were unable to hear my deep sigh that carried with it my intense distaste for meta-gamers, e-sports, and speedrunners of all stripes. I returned with an emotionally neutral, “Oh?” “Proton-Dozer Zorren Dual-Wielder,” FluffyStar interjected, “It's the highest physical DPS class in the game so far!” “Right, because just having the 'best' stats makes a game fun, right?” I growled my reply with disdainful, but equally-unseen keystrokes, “Gimme a break,” “He doesn't even know the ProDoZoa meta, Fluffy, are we sure we want this guy in the guild?” Neeku observed, either unaware or unbothered by my seeing it in the public chat. “It's an interesting experiment. I'm curious to see how strong he can be with it,” FluffyStar shook her head coolly, her long rabbit ears waving side to side limply as she did so. Neeku shrugged at this, “Okay. So, what level are you at, Window-man?” “Currently, I'm level 32,” I explained. In a way I sort of felt as though I was boasting. Most games of this type maintained levels that capped out at 80-100, so being one-third of the way through as quickly as I was even with my casual play style made me a little smug. “Oh geez,” Neeku worried, “We got... quite a ways to go then,” Feeling my pride called into question I had to ask, “Wait, so, what level are you guys?” Looking above them, I saw their nametags and basic stats appear in turn. FluffyStar, Neutron Drifter, Level 11,847 NeekuthePantsless, Electron Despoiler, Level 498 “What the actual hell?” I grunted as I re-read the numbers to ensure I hadn't lost my mind. I hesitated as I considered what I was looking at. I had seen the oft-repeated memes concerning just how grind-heavy SlideLands was, but this seemed incomprehensible. You can level your character, your skills (of which there are an insane amount), your subclasses (which also tie into skills to some extent), late-game armor and weapons, pets, and more, but to have a five-digit level cap? And who's to say at this point that it isn't higher than that?! My pride sufficiently deflated at this, I resumed typing, “I see. You must really like this game,” “That I do,” FluffyStar affirmed. “You're not allowed to do raid boss battles until you're at least level 100,” Neeku informed me, “So, how about I take you out to the Glass Desert and get you up to snuff. If you're going to insist on that suboptimal build?” “I insist,” I grit my teeth. My actual teeth – the set he couldn't see, obviously. “Ugh. But... the meta!” Neeku whined at me. “Neeku, just do it,” FluffyStar insisted. “Fine, fine. Follow me and, whatever you do, do not aggro anything,” Neeku demanded of me. “Glass Desert? I thought I couldn't go into really high-level plates though?” I wondered aloud as we walked. “If you're in-party with someone of a high enough level, I can taxi you to some places you'd otherwise be unable to go on your own. Of course, there are some hard limits. You couldn't get to half the places Fluffy can go, even if she tried to take you there herself. But we'll get this little power-leveling session out of the way and maybe you won't hold us back too much,” Neeku explained. I struggled to discern if I was supposed to be offended by that or not. “Thank you,” I managed. So we went, a plate far to the west of Strattburg's, where I got tucked into a small corner of the map, hidden in the shadow of a rock outcropping amidst the sand dunes. My character stood by idly as, within seconds, I had suddenly jumped several levels all in one go as Neeku's character deftly wiped out monster after monster. All common-tier, of course, since we didn't want to go anywhere that would put me in real danger. In SlideLands, monsters appear in one of five basic tiers: Common, Named, Boss, Raid, and Mega Raid. Common enemies – as the name might suggest – were the ones you would encounter commonly, whereas Named enemies spawn randomly amidst their common brethren for sudden bursts of challenges. Boss monsters usually sat in preset locations on the map and awaited challengers and usually were taken on in full parties of five or six heroes. Raid monsters were super-bosses, residing only in the game's toughest challenges: the dungeons. Raid monsters are much stronger than any other type even if they share the same level – as the name implies several teams full of adventurers pour in their collective skills to defeat these sorts of dungeons and their respective Raid-Boss monsters for high-tier loot. Mega Raids, at this point, I had only seen video of online and they require hundreds of active, high-level players to coordinate fairly well to defeat. Meanwhile, the common practice Neeku had begun undertaking with me, power leveling, was often done to build up new characters to expedite the process so they can play with their friends. My exact feelings on this are a bit mixed, due to my actually appreciating the lore of the game, but at the same time – a leg up this mild couldn't possibly make that big a difference if the max level were something obscene like 99,999 or something even greater than that. In no time, I crested level 200 and Neeku had grown bored with making short work of the local wildlife – and I had grown equally so with this exercise. “Alright, now, take that extra gold and buy yourself better armor. With that, you should be... passable, at least,” Neeku relented his first unambiguous praise upon me and my rabbit-man. “I appreciate the boost,” I admitted. We began making movements towards the exit, but the world around us began to shake, “Wait, what's that?” “We need to run, rookie!” Neeku demanded. “What's happening?” I asked again. “You weren't pushing anything this whole time, right?” “Right, but why?” “It's an anti-idle boss! Damn, I forgot about those!” Neeku hurriedly explained. I'd later learn that, in order to stop excessive camping in certain spots, players who sat in inactive states for long spans of time without any actions taken would summon unusually powerful boss creatures to weed them out. This was apparently a conscious decision to help with server load balancing and to punish idlers and, presumably, people who were doing precisely what we were doing. My mind raced with possibilities: being in the desert biome meant that it was likely something tough, but stylized – perhaps a giant scorpion would be fitting? Or for more of a fantasy flare, it may be a dragon with cacti growing from its hides, I considered. Perhaps the dev staff were fans of British comedy and we'd soon be accosted by a giant, bloodthirsty desert hare. But to my surprise it was none of those things. “Is that a giant crab riding on the back of a giant turtle?” I managed to hastily type in, “Do you need help with this?” “Damn! The King Crustaseanoid and his Regal Terra-pinner!” Neeku declared, “I'll be honest with you. I'm not sure even I got this one, newb!” “Actually, that should be a Queen Crustaseanoid. Male crabs have a triangular shell on their underbelly, while this one is rounded,” I observed. “That's... really not helping!” he took the time out to turn his character to stare mine down coldly. “Sorry,” “Alright, dumbass, stand back and try not to piss anything else off in the meantime!” Neeku ordered, brandishing a strange set of orbs attached to a long staff that I figured must be his weapon of choice. Neeku's avatar whooped with delight as he began bashing the legs of the turtle monster as I backed a safe distance away and quickly took in what new abilities I had unlocked in my sudden leveling-marathon to see if anything I had could help. “Eat balls, turtle!” Neeku challenged, causing me to glance up from my submenu to eyeball this sad, strange man who was really holding his own quite well despite his initial hesitations. After watching this go a bit and seeing that he was easily winning the damage race, I began to relax – this was well in hand despite the strange taunts he issued the idle boss. However, my calm demeanor was shattered when, upon seeing the turtle's HP hit 0, which should have brought the fight to a close, the crab leaped down from its perch and began attacking Neeku – and doing a ton more damage than the turtle could have dreamed of doing. “This is precisely what I was afraid of!” Neeku declared, “I'm running low on Spirit. I'm using it faster than I'm regenerating it! Hope you're ready to see what dying looks like in this game, newb!” A sharp, jabbing feeling crept up within me. It was, technically, my fault we were in this mess. I had to do something. Then I noticed it – an ability in my submenu. Black Iron Castle – a defensive technique that renders the user both invincible and immobile for 8 seconds and draws all nearby enemies' hostility (commonly called aggro) to the user. My class, the Bunker, had just the tool for the job after all. “Hey, Neeku! On my mark, make a run for it!” I ordered, as I watched his health swiftly falling. “You got a plan?!” he shot back. “Something like that, yeah,” I typed as quickly as I could. The cooldown on the ability was a devastating 12 minutes. In terms of active-time combat, that was several eternities atop one another. We'd have one shot to do this just right and if Neeku hesitated at all, the body count would still be two. “No time like the present then!” I declared, “Run, Neeku!” I said, watching my character take on a dark hue and a metallic sheen. I lost the ability to move or use other abilities, but it worked like a dream: the crab lost all interest in the near-dead Neeku and turned to my hero, slashing with its massive pincers as a long string of zeroes appeared above his head, the damage failing to find a home. I admit I didn't have a plan past that. The Bunker only does two things particularly well, and that's anger enemies and take hits. With this handy new tool in my kit, I was at least able to repay Neeku his kindness and cut the casualties in half. As soon as it hit me, maybe even just the one time, I would die. I'd lose anything in my public pouch – a large bag where dungeon loot is placed prior to the player being able to hide it safely in a permanent storage or bank – and half the gold on my character, on top of a small cut to my gained experience points and lastly, be whisked away the nearest cathedral to respawn and begin again. Granted, that would be pretty much every item I had that wasn't currently equipped and quite a bit of time's worth of gold, but I resolved to think better of the situation. I helped someone, so the goal I set out to accomplish was complete. I folded my hands across my stomach and leaned back in my chair and awaited the inevitable. However, much to my surprise, the inevitable never came. I glanced up again after the time for the buff expired only to see a dead crab, upside-down and legs crumpled inward like a squashed spider. My adventurer was very much alive. I leaned towards my monitor to study what had changed, only to see FluffyStar coolly walk into the scene once again. “That was close. I wasn't sure my EarthRock Magnum would kill it completely in one hit, but it did!” she 'said' in the chat, “Are you two okay?” “We are now,” Neeku observed. Letting out a small sigh of relief, I typed back at last, “Yeah. Thanks again!” “Don't mention it. You're a Night Owl in your own right now!” Fluffy commented. The adventure for the evening more or less ended not long after that encounter. Neeku went around the guild building – a space players create and customize for their guildmates – telling everyone about how he toppled an idle boss with only a minor lift from Fluffy. Somehow in his retelling, my saving his nearly-naked butt was left out, but I didn't feel the need to correct him. Tanks and supports don't fill the roles they perform for glory, fame, or adoration – that's what bastard DPS players do. It wasn't long after that our once tight-knit crew began to come apart at the seams. It happened shortly after Fluffy up and disappeared after boasting about her conquest of some high-level quest. One by one, our players began to wander off. Unfortunately, so did I. I got a new job that paid better and had more consistent hours, but it forced me to work mornings, so I rarely got the chance to see anyone from back then. Before I knew it, I sort of fell off from playing the game entirely. There were other games to play, other social groups I interacted with, and other obligations for me to handle. I even had a date set for one particular weekend. I would tell you how it went, if only I had been in attendance myself. I didn't stand her up, though. I woke up one morning, lying at the far edge of a ramshackle town. I stood up slowly, encumbered by the presence of heavy-duty solid steel plate armor covering my every side. Which is strange as I shouldn't need to clarify that I have never in my life slept in such garb. I looked down at my hands, which were massive and covered in equally massive metal gauntlets. I placed one to the side of my head to check for injury but grabbed ahold of a colossal bucket-styled helmet shielding it. I took a step back, physically shocked as the realization fell on me. I looked around me at what was unmistakably Strattburg. The NPCs were there. The random adventurers from all the different clans were present and accounted for. Even the random chickens which used to be background objects clucked merrily along their way as they pecked at the ground in search of feed. “No, this isn't real,” I whispered to myself. I closed my eyes, attempting to will myself awake from this lucid dream I found myself in. Then opened them to see the fantasy land again. I was aware of my own breathing, and my avatar's gear, and the uncomfortable truth of the situation made itself known to me: I was trapped in an MMORPG.

[osmw1]

Poison-Wielding Fugitive   Chapter 11

We stepped out of the store to wander around this deserted village after finishing up our shopping. As soon as we do so, the countdown on Poison Condensation ends. I could put it to the test when we head out for the day tomorrow, but I’m itching to experiment with it now.

‘Whichever would be would be fine. You could say that we are wasting no time, but also, it would be good to have an understanding of your abilities.’

Hmm, either way would do, huh? Well, if I don’t do it today, I’ll do it tomorrow. I don’t think it makes that much of a difference. But, it’s piqued my curiosity is all. It seems like there are many types of poison… stuff like miasma too. What’s the difference between miasma and toxin anyway?

‘”Miasma” is air that fragile humans cannot withstand. “Toxin” is simply poison. Incidentally, monsters born in miasma are not necessarily immune to poison.’

That doesn’t sound quite right, but if that’s what the poison pro is saying, then I guess it must be true. So that means that though I can use poison, I may not necessarily be able to produce miasma?

‘I know not of the future, but that is true for now.’

Then, why don’t we go out and find a monster close by to test my skills? That way, even if something dangerous comes up, I can just run back to the village. With that said, Veno widens his field of perception. Plus, being stung by that mosquito was my fault for not paying attention.

‘Count on me.’

I look for a place near the village that would likely be inhabited by monsters and end up returning to the path Arleaf deliberately detoured around. I walk slightly down that path. Branching from the paved main road, this supposedly dangerous path had been paved at some point. However, running across was a bumpy trail made of packed dirt. That seems to be the trail left behind by monsters. If you wanted to fight something strong, you should probably head down that way. I look left and right to check for anything.

‘Hmm?’

Seemingly with a blip, Veno senses a monster.

Ultramarine Blue Giant Rat

I came across an intensely blue rodent the size of a capybara. Maybe it’s because I had experience fighting the wolves, but I feel pretty calm right now. It might also be because that guy just looks like a mouse.

Squeak!

Perceiving a threat, it comes over here to threaten me. Is something that small really going to attack me? Do monsters try to kill every living being they see? I wonder if this guy’s dangerous.

‘Unfortunately, this one pales in comparison to the Midnight Blue Wolf you have fought. This is not the monster of which the girl warned you. Their footprints differ as well.’

Veno then highlights the set of more dangerous footprints. At a glance, they seem to be in the shape of a deer’s hooves. They seem just like the ones I saw as a kid at the zoo. Anyway, back to the rat in front of us. Well, it seems like it’s just the right target to try my poison against.

‘A mischief of rats would be quite the bother, even to me. Heh heh… just like human scum.’

This guy… From time to time, Veno really despises humans. Dragons really think they’re above all else, eh?

Squeak!

With nimble footwork, the Ultramarine Blue Giant Rat closes in on me. But before it gets too close, I bring out my condensed swamp toxin. A fist-sized ball of poison appears in my hand. Just in case, triple tap! The first shot was fist-sized, but I produced as much as I could for the other two.

Squeeeak?!

Perhaps I was unprepared, but the rat evaded my first throw. I hit my second and third shot. Ooh, the second ball of poison I flung was nearly the size of a watermelon. The speed of the projectile wasn’t all too impressive. But, with such a big blob of highly condensed swamp toxin, the Ultramarine Blue Giant Rat had been thoroughly drenched. The big splash created a big puddle along with it too.

Squeak… squeeeak!

The Ultramarine Blue Giant Rat trembles after being covered from head to tail with poison. Then, with an angry cry, it charges towards me again. It seems like it’s still more than energetic. My attack did less than I thought it would…

‘The immediate effects are present, but it does not seem like it is a devastating blow.’

Its movement did become slightly sluggish, but it’s irritating how I couldn’t kill it in one shot. It won’t just die like that Spray Green Mosquito did, I guess. It would be easy to tell whether my poison worked if the rat started running around, trying to escape, like a cockroach after being sprayed with pesticide. Though how the Ultramarine Blue Giant Rat’s face is turning purple is an obvious sign.

Squeak! Squeak… squeak… wheeze… wheeze

If I left it like this, it would probably die, but it would take quite a while. The rat sees me drawing my sword and quickly squirms over to get the first strike. However, it makes contact with nought but my blade.

Squeeeak?!

The Ultramarine Blue Giant Rat was easily slain with the slightest swing of the sword. It leaves me with an unpleasant feeling though. It’s the same feeling from last time with the wolf, as if I’ve murdered a living being… A lot of first experiences since I’ve come to this world.

“Now then…”

It’s not pity in the slightest, but we shouldn’t put the carcass to waste. We should store it away with magic. I’m not too sure what I can do with a corpse showered with poison, but at least I can feed Veno with it. We should quickly leave this animal trail so that we don’t encounter anything more dangerous. Right after I do so, I see why they said dangerous monsters roam here.

‘Aye… it’s true. It would be too much for you at this time.’

Rose Grey Swordhorn

As its name suggests, this giant deer-like beast has got a pair of sword for antlers. Just by its sheer size, you can tell it’s the master of its domain. Even without measuring its large antlers, the body itself is about three meters long. It seems like it can move pretty quickly, too… I’d definitely be one-shotted if I were to be stabbed by those sword-like antlers.

‘Judging from what we have learned about you today… you would need to be at least level 30 to challenge this one. And like the Midnight Blue Wolves, it would take much sacrifice for you to go toe to toe with it.’

Getting rushed by those wolves would’ve been rough, huh? I bet they’re strong together as a pack.

‘Furthermore, there are more than just one. There are quite a few that have passed through here. It is likely that it would be a difficult endeavor, even if you are strong.’

Oof… the existence of something that dangerous isn’t a surprise to you at all. So, if you were fully recovered, how much of a fight would that be for you?

‘Are you blaspheming against me? It is obvious that I can defeat it in a single blow. I wouldn’t even need to get serious.’

I’m not sure how much of that is truth, but the magic casted on him really had bound him. Still… will the time to hunt that monster come?

‘I am sure there are people looking for its horn and other materials.’

I’d like to think that the materials from that swordhorn would sell for quite a bit of money. But speaking of which, I’m not planning on doing anything reckless. Fortunately, it’s walking away from us, down a path I’ve never seen before. It’s clearly above my level and I don’t want to go picking a fight I know I can’t win. Well, since the concept of levels exist in this world, if I keep on steadily getting stronger, I’m sure I’ll be able to be able to take him down before too long.

‘A wise decision.’

With that, we leave the swordhorn for another day. The sun had completely set by the time we reached the village, so we go back to our inn to rest.

A scene of people working farming equipment, medicine, and magic on a barren patch of land lies before my eyes. A man brimming with blinding light is ahead of me… or at least he seems to be full of positive energy. With a smile, he walks over to speak with me. Curiously, a conspicuous sword is strapped to his back.

“This is our dream—to create a nation of our own on land we can comfortably live on.” “Is that right? It’s a worthy goal.” “We, who have been prosecuted and chased away from our homes, are trying to cultivate this land to something livable. With this test case, we are aiming to live in a world without struggles.”

They chase such a noble dream. That’s right… this is just something I’ve heard but carrying out your plans requires you to be resolute and many comrades as well.

“I aim to build that future so that everyone can live in happiness. But you… I would like for you to remember what I’ve just told you. And whenever you feel like it, please tell whoever you see of my silly dream.” “How do I put it… you really can tell your foolish life story to anyone. However, they say that even fools can sometimes accomplish great feats and change the world. You should try your hardest. But, however silly this all may be, making sacrifices and giving generously towards a grand dream isn’t.”

For real, though… this setting sun really is something else…

With a sudden snap, a peculiar energy fills my body and I awaken.

‘Hmm? What is wrong?’

Hmm. There’s some weird energy is flowing into me and my legs hurts as if it’s cramping up… Maybe because it’s from all the vigorous exercise I did since coming to this world. I get out of bed, hoping that my muscles don’t ache. You don’t sleep, Veno?

‘My circadian rhythm differs to one of humans. I believe you could simply say I am not used to this kind of lifestyle yet.’

I can’t tell you exactly how a dragon’s cycle is, but I’d like to think that not doing anything and simply staying put all the time would be tough.

‘Not in the slightest. I can peek through your memories and not moving my body would mean I expend less energy. Food comes from what you hunt, so I am not starving either. Your worries are unnecessary.’

That right? Well, there are some parts I’d like to point out, but since you said you’re fine, I’ll drop it.

‘As well… you should take a gander at this.’

After being told that, I check out what Veno highlighted. This time, it’s my status screen.

Kogure Yukihisa Poison Earth Level 14 Acquired skills: Spirit Link, Poison Absorption, Poison Release, Poison Condensation, Class change available, Detect Poison

What is this? All of a sudden, I’ve levelled up to 14?!

‘I had noticed it whilst checking your vitals when you jolted awake. We ought to think about how this happened. Oh, and I wish they would pipe down already outside.’

He’s right. Still… all of this is happening and I don’t have spare time for research why. I’m starting to get slightly annoyed at it, but it beats having people after your head, so it’s not that bad in comparison. It really is loud outside though, hey? Is it because we’re so close to the tavern?

Ugh… this brings up bad memories of how idiots caused a huge ruckus when I stayed at a cheap hotel for a business trip, making me get no sleep at all. This isn’t so bad compared to that, I guess. But now, thinking back on that company, it wasn’t that bad either. Loud noises and cheap hotels just go hand in hand. Anyway, we should think of how this happened.

One: this was due to Forced Possession Summoning. Day by day, Veno’s power flows into me.

‘That is not impossible. Though it would be rather sudden.’

That’s true. I need to be on standby to measure the change for this to be my control case. But I can keep this as one of the hypotheses.

‘Two: perhaps the quintessence of monsters we hunted in the afternoon—the experience points we have earned—have to be stored in you in order to reach me.’

Well, to put it in gaming terms, it would be that I’ve formed a party with Veno. But Veno is bound to me by Forced Possession Summoning. And so, with him in that state, Veno can’t receive all the experience points he should be earning. Instead, the remainder goes to me. That is plausible too.

But I haven’t really fought anything that would give me so much experience either. I mean, normally in a game, novices wouldn’t be spawned around monsters that are too strong. So, then, where did all my levels come from?

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /next/ (full list of translated chapters) (discussion thread) (support Average Translations)

[rewindfrequency]

Organ Trail Complete Edition Review

Organ Trail: Complete Edition Review

Developed and Published by: The Men Who Wear Many Hats

Played on: Microsoft Windows

Also Available on: Linux, PS4, PS VITA, IOS, and Android

Organ Trail is a parody of the much-beloved Oregon Trail. This game flips the classic Oregon trail on its head. As with all rogue-like games there isn’t much story here. It’s a straight to the point plot of you and four of your friends (whom you can name) are stuck in Washington D.C. when the zombie apocalypse starts. You receive the help of a man named Clements, who teaches you how the game works and drives you to D.C. in his trusty station wagon. But within the first five minutes of the game, he dies and you’re on your own. Shortly afterwards you hear on the radio that D.C. is going to be nuked by the military and the only safe place in America is “Safe Haven,” which happens to be in Salem, Oregon. In this game, while the car is on the road you don’t do any actual driving. The car moves on the path you set it on. You can choose where you want to go after you are done visiting your current stop. The majority of the gameplay centers on your character walking around shooting zombies or bandits. Shooting in this game is old school, requiring you to pull back on the mouse and release to fire a shot.

The gameplay mechanics are the same as Oregon Trails with a zombie twist on them. The wagon is replaced with a station wagon, your family is replaced with your friends, outposts are now cities and random stops, and hunting is now scavenging. Most of the gameplay takes place in the car. Since you are driving from D.C. to Salem, you need to stock up on supplies. At the beginning of the game you get a certain number of points that you use to stock up on supplies. You can stock up on fuel, food, car parts, et cetera. The higher the difficulty the less points you get. In the complete edition of the game you have many branching paths that allow you to travel all over the country. Most stops are in the “danger zones,” which are areas with high amounts of radiation that wear on your party’s health. There are two types of locations you can find in this game: cities and locales. In cities there is always an auto shop where you can get your car fixed and buy new tires and so on. In locales there are combat trainers who can teach you “skills” such as how to make your bullets travel faster and how to find medkits while scavenging. You can pick up jobs at these road stops, such as fending off an approaching zombie horde or finding a package someone left behind. The best type of job to take is graveyard. Even though it’s the most difficult job to take, it can really be exciting. In this mini-game you are stuck within a graveyard and have to retrieve a package. As you run towards the package the dead rise from their graves and chase after you. Not only do you have to be accurate with your shots but you also have to find the best way out while more and more zombies rise from the grave. This game mode is only in the complete edition. No matter the difficulty you play on, these missions have their own difficulty levels that increase as you go west. A big part of road stops however is that you can rest at them. As you drive on the path to Safe Haven your friends take damage. You can mitigate that damage by giving them more food per hour, but that has its own issues.

On the road to Safe Haven you will eventually run out of food or scrap metal needed to fix the car. You can get more food and scrap and other items by scavenging. Buying these items is possible at all road stops, however this can cost a lot of money and you can find that while scavenging as well. This is probably the most boring part of the game. Essentially, you walk around a box with little bits of environment thrown in and pick up items that randomly appear out of nowhere. If you wait for the afternoon hours when there aren’t many zombies, you only have to shoot a few zombies and maybe the occasional bandit. Because this is something you have to do constantly, it can get real boring really fast.

You can also trade with other survivors. Most of the time the deals they give you don’t make any sense. If you run out of fuel they’ll try to make a deal such as “I’ll give you 1 fuel if you give me 25 scrap”. On the flip side, they also give deals that disadvantage them such as “I’ll give you 5 fuel for 10 ammo”. Ammo is very common, by the way. Over time your car will break down from driving so you can fix it in one of two ways. You can either use scrap metal and play a time based mini-game to fix the car or use money to pay someone at a city auto-shop to fix it for you.

While playing Organ Trail you will encounter random events on the road. These are both comical and serious. One time I walked into a church where are man asked me to shoot him to get his soul into heaven. Another time I saw a mad scientist get consumed by the Box O’Zombies device. These events are enjoyable because they make you feel like a real survivor having to deal with other people who are suffering and having to make decisions that affect your party. But I’ve noticed through many of my playthroughs that while situations rarely repeat, they are few and far between. These random encounters are probably the best part of the game and there are so few. And if you detour into the extra areas in the complete edition sometimes they don’t happen at all, even though the steam store page says there are more random encounters.

But Organ Trail does make up for it somewhat by adding in tombstones. You also encounter these randomly on the road. They are messages written by the developers and kickstarters of the game. They tend to be funny and if you’re lucky you can get a car upgrade out of them.

Even though random encounters are fun and all, another factor that makes this game so funny is what happens to your friends throughout the game. Not only do they get infected with cholera and super dysentery, they also react to their surroundings. “Ben sits on 4 scrap and ruins it,” “Michael is taken hostage by a bandit and you ‘accidently’ shoot him.” They don’t help you in combat. They don’t help you get supplies. They don’t really do anything for you because if you die the game is over. The only time they help is when you need to navigate a zombie horde or when they provide cover fire at the end of the game (Which I won’t spoil).

The normal story mode ends once your team enters Safe Haven but there is still more content to play through. They have endless mode, which is like the core game except it doesn’t end until you die. During this mode you are far more likely to encounter random events and tombstones than in the normal game. In this mode, instead of starting with a certain number of points, you spend for supplies based on your difficulty level you instead pick a loadout which is a prepicked set of items you will need on the road. There are 20 of these but you start with 5. You unlock more loadouts by completing skulls, which are challenges such as traveling a certain distance without dying or killing so many of one type of zombie. This mode is also useful for unlocking content in the story mode and endless mode. There are 10 characters to choose from, but you only start with four and have to unlock the other six. You only start with the station wagon but, are able to unlock 4 more vehicles each with their own advantages and disadvantages. Endless mode can get old however because even though you have the random encounters and tombstones to keep you entertained, it can get old after awhile. The game tries to vary things up by adding challenges to give you more points, such as starting the game with every survivor infected or having a baby in the car that you need to keep safe. This definitely adds length to the mode, but overall I feel like it’s a secondary feature.

The game has more content buried in the extras section. This includes the tombstones you have found while on the road in both endless and story mode. You unlock 50 new tombstones after beating story mode. A Halloween mode which adds little holiday-themed quirks to the adventure such as replacing food with candy and the campfire with a jack-o-lantern. The final piece of extra content is Clements’ Quest. It’s meant to look like a poorly made flash game where you drive the car as Clements to Safe Haven, and then have to drive backwards to D.C. again. These are nice little additions that really keep the game fresh.

The aesthetics of the game perfectly parody Oregon Trail. It’s pixel art style is not only inviting, but harkens back to its inspiration, which can really bring nostalgia out of older players and invoke a sense of having played Oregon Trail in younger players. The soundtrack, while simple, fits the mood perfectly. At times the music sounds like it’s a race against time to get to Safe Haven, while at other points it feels more like a relaxing tone that shows the journey is long and will take time. I have to say that not only as a parody but also a game, the Organ Trail is able to both honor the game that spawned it while carving its own path, making it truly unique.

I am going to give Organ Trail: Complete Edition an 8 out of 10

Pros:

A great parody with its own identity

A great sense of humor

A gameplay formula that remains entertaining through multiple playthroughs

A variety of jobs to do at road stops

Cons:

More random events in story mode would be nice

Scavenging is boring and repetitive

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[lexiseigneur]

Chapter twenty-four: The city that never sleeps

Ao3

The infinite hues of green on the hill soon turned a uniform grey and the Dhampir left it without any rush. The forest and the surrounding human habitations were deserted. From the rest of that day and the next night, Lexi recalled very little. Although all was over and a deep and warm feeling of peace emanated from Quinlan, her own brain was a tight knot of ropes. Loud noises and moving shadows made the ropes snap. When Quinlan suddenly bolted away to run after a stray horse, she almost burst into tears. He let the horse go, despite their thirst, and let his own serenity pour into her to loosen the knot a little.

The dark room was no more and the monsters ran free within Lexi. It made the world seem like a giant beast whose claws could close around her at any moment. With infinite patience, Quinlan would embrace her when she was overwhelmed by the most trivial things. The only clear events from there on where their conversations, when she hid her face against his chest and he listened to her descriptions of the monsters that haunted her.

They drove on small country roads, stopping when the need or the desire arose. For the time being, Lexi asked to avoid populated areas and Quinlan did not mind. He appeared content even if it meant only drinking animal blood. So far their only encounters with other souls had been the occasional car driving by.

One night the sky was unusually clear above them and they laid on the large roof of a truck they had recently stolen. On the other side, some way away, stood an arrangement of trees barely big enough to be called a forest. The blinking stars gathered in a stain running above the horizon. It made Lexi feel even smaller than she was but not in a crushing manner. She strained to gather the events of the last day and failed.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Somewhere in Kansas.”

“I don’t remember driving here.”

“That’s alright.”

Quinlan rubbed his cheek against hers and caressed her back until she breathed in relief. Her tension decreased with each of the strokes. He smiled just enough to uncover his sharp teeth and she knew that at that moment she looked the same. The cuts on his face had closed but not disappeared. He looked fiercer than ever although his mission was over. So many scars. Lexi touched them, with just the tip of her fingers and as she did, he looked at her through half-closed eyelids. She was glad that her heart fluttered because he leaned down and kissed her rather than because she was afraid.

Later that night she continued tracing the scars on his naked body. Their clothes were in a small pile at their feet. She kissed the sun-shaped brand on his left shoulder.

“How did this happen?”

“This is a stigma, the mark of a criminal. The man who applied red hot silver to my skin chose this sigil to mock me and my repugnance of sunlight.”

“Oh…”

“This was his way of alleviating his frustrations when I escaped crucifixion. Instead, I was sold to become a gladiator.”

She shivered and he turned on his side, obscuring the brand from her view.

“It was a mild punishment.”

“You think you deserved slavery?”

“Ha…I did not believe I deserved any of this per se. I did not think myself a prisoner since I was confident could slay my captors and leave if I so desired. I was a slave in name, not in spirit. But I wished to learn about mankind and about fighting, so what stood in my way became my way.”

She wanted to ask more because his past life was a source of unending fascination.

In the distance, tires screeched then a woman screamed in terror. The wind carried the smell of blood and both Dhampir were instantly on their feet. The back of her throat twinged and the knot of her mind tightened. The scent was eminently appetizing. No animal blood caught their attention quite like this one. But her mind fought her against investigating the origins of that scent. When Quinlan took his sword and sprang ahead, she reluctantly followed.

They stopped when familiar hisses suddenly accompanied the smell.

“Is this in my head?” asked Lexi.

“No, this is real.”

Half a dozen Strigoi broke the tree line and approached tentatively. With their unmistakable ammonia stink and the red blood smeared on this chins. Quinlan’s lips lifted and he rattled menacingly. The Strigoi froze. Quinlan stepped forward and the creatures yelped like kicked dogs as they fled.

“Usually, they run away only after I kill most of them,” said Quinlan.

“Does it mean we failed? Does this mean the Master is still alive?”

“No…I believe we were mistaken in assuming their bodies would die with the Master.”

He pursued them and Lexi once again followed against her best judgment. The Strigoi were all dead when she caught up to him. He slashed the air and with a whistling noise, the blood and worms slid off the blade. The origin of the human blood was very close they walked toward it. On the nearby road, next to a crashed car was the body of a dead woman. They had not just taken her blood, they had torn into her as if rabid. The ropes in Lexi’s head snapped tighter than ever and she lost herself. Lexi ran for her life because monsters were after her. They had just killed Emily and she would be next.

The rapid tip tap of shoes smacking the road was upon Lexi and Emily. Three creatures now towered over them and their eyes were fixated on Emily. Lexi tried to shield her but frantic, they pushed her violently out of the way and started tearing into the pregnant women. As her friend’s body was splayed open, Lexi could not scream.

Another silhouette appeared, tall and pale-skinned. It distracted her just a second too long and the monster that had once been her significant other pounced on her. The silhouette suddenly stood between them and grabbed the monster by the neck, lifting it off the ground without effort. Just as easily, the man snapped the vertebrae in his grasp and turned to Lexi whose panic was almost equal to her confusion.

“Lexi…this is not real. This is the memory of another time, of a previous life. You are safe now.”

The pale-skinned man crouched in front of her and caressed her cheek. His eyes, the stripes on his face and his pointy ears were not human but seeing them filled her with reassurance.

I will fear no evil, for you are with me. The asphalt road, Emily’s body, and the snarling monsters all faded away.

 Lexi sat on the road, another road. This was the present, the now. There was no other Strigoi around and Quinlan was walking toward her, undressed and only carrying his sword. Her muscles were still rushing with blood as her heart pumped frantically.

“Lexi, beloved, I know it pains you right to be shackled to your past but be sure of one thing…”

He lifted her with his free arm and hugged her against his warm skin.

“Whatever tricks your mind plays on you, I will pull you back to me. Always.”

She held on with the desperation of a drowning woman.

 ***

The Strigoi avoided them like a mouse would steer clear of the scent of a cat. They were wild animals, rudderless and stupid but still dangerous for humans. Two days after the Dhampir made that discovery they waited inside an abandoned store because they had not found a residential area before the sunlight hours.

“We have to go back to New York,” said Lexi as she perused the few clothes that looters had left behind.

“I understand but it might be wise to wait. Until you are better.”

She was so clearly unwell now. Since she had seen that woman on the road and a nightmare had swallowed her whole. The thin skin under her eyes had turned deep grey and he almost had to beg her to drink regularly. She walked a little hunched and because of that, he could see the frailty of her human days.

“Right now…I want to lock myself in the back of this store and never come out,” she said and turned away from him to remove her old shirt. Quinlan cared very little that she bore scars but she did and sometimes shied from his gaze because of them. He did not force the issue.

“But if I indulge that desire, I fear I will spiral and never come back. We must keep going,” she said.

“I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you.”

Before she could put on the clean clothes she had chosen, he hugged her and breathed heavily in the hollow of her neck. He was careful to avoid touching where the Master had clawed her. She leaned back onto him and her entire body relaxed. At least once a day since the Master’s death, Quinlan would be struck with the realization that the reward he craved before flying to the volcano was happening right now. It would not last a single hour, it would last as long as they both lived.

“On the way to New York, there is a thing we need to do, a small detour,” said Lexi.

“Let us speak of this later.”

***

The perimeter alarm blared and the woman breathed, for she knew her savior was on her doorstep. Two hooded silhouettes approached from the southern path and the smallest one waved enthusiastically at the camera. Laura bit back tears and hugged her confused daughter.

“Mommy?” said Emma.

“Do you remember the lady on the road, Lexi?”

The child nodded and Laura lifted her so she could sit across her lap.

“Look! It’s her. Do you remember what her friend’s name was?”

Emma shook her head.

“Quinlan.”

“Oh yes, I remember. It’s weird.”

“Yes.”

Laura gave the room a cursory glance. It was reasonably clean though at the moment their breakfast was still on the kitchen table. She also checked the other rooms. They had not used the bedroom with all the drawings, except to use some items it contained.

Mother and daughter slept in the empty bedroom because the other obviously belonged to Lexi. In the lower level, the plants thrived just as the strange woman had asked. Mostly, Laura had done everything she had demanded. Except for one little thing.

The large chest freezer in the kitchen, she could not stop herself from looking inside. It was a little like Pandora’s box. As soon as her brain finally understood that those were hundreds of blood bags, she had slammed that freezer shut but the image had stayed with her.

She had grown almost obsessive of that mystery. It rummaged through her brain as she cared for Emma, or when she labored in the garden. Why would people need blood?

Then she remembered the night they had met Lexi and how fast she had killed those two men. And that voice. Low and with a strange texture to it. At the time she had imagined that their savior had been sick or that she had suffered some form of damage to her voice box. Laura had an uncle who spoke strangely after suffering the consequences of heavy smoking. But that was different.

Lexi had also moved in obscurity as though she could see. Almost guilty, Laura had entered the room she knew had been Lexi’s and searched for answers. She had found a whole lot of nothing at first. Clothes, drawings and more material to draw, books, even some shampoo, and soap and other necessities that any woman would have. The piano stood against the wall, mockingly mundane. Then even more guilty, she had flipped through the pages of notebooks sprawled over the large table. Almost all of those were filled with sketches of cats, of landscapes and plants. Except for one. It was small and blue, stuck in the middle of a larger notebook and appeared to have been forgotten there. Its first pages were just like the others, random doodlings but then…words. The same handwriting left on the medicine in sickbay and the few careful notes in the binder.

These appeared to be the ramblings of an insane person. Except when they started making sense. Some lines detailed the events leading to the Strigoi invasion. With mentions of the plane and later on of the nuclear warhead which had exploded in New York. But the passages in between and after were almost too much for Laura to believe. Talk of decapitating the Master, some kind of Strigoi super king, or imprisoning him. Or machines to scramble his brains. The recountings of plans and of failures. Of many failures.

The handwriting decreased in quality as she progressed through the pages. On the last page containing words, the handwriting was neat again and written with a different kind of pencil. And on that page there was hope. A new plan. Making a new coffin of silver and lead and locking the worm inside. On the last line, circled several times so hard that the pencil had almost pierced the paper, “No Master no Strigoi.”

After that, there was only one more drawing. Merely a sketch made very quickly in broad lines and rushed strokes. Either because it had been drawn from memory or furtively.

It was a man but with features that made Laura deeply uncomfortable. Hairless, pointed ears and the suggestion of triangular incisors between thin lips. Laura had slapped that notebook shut.

The night after she found it she lulled her daughter to sleep by reading her The Hobbit for the fourth time. At least. Now Emma made plans of becoming a Hobbit as if it were an occupation just like teacher or plumber.

After her daughter fell asleep, she read through the notebook again and did so almost every night following its discovery.

Slowly the possibility that Lexi and Quinlan had not been exactly human had imposed itself to her. And as awful as this seemed there was undeniable goodness to some of the facts Laura had garnered about Lexi. She had saved her and Emma then given her this place. And if the blue notebook did not contain the ravings of a tortured mind, then they had been working on something important. They had wanted to save everyone.

 So when the elevator came down and Lexi stepped out of it still wearing her hood, Laura was prudently happy and so very curious.

“I am glad you are well,” said Lexi.

Now that she expected it, the strangeness of that voice was obvious.

“I’m glad you found your friend. Are you going to remove that hood and those glasses?”

“Maybe not,” said Lexi, amused.

“I think you should.”

“Why is that?”

Lexi cocked her head and in the shadows of her hood, her lips stretched briefly.

“Because I found your blue notebook and I looked in the freezer.”

“Did you now…?”

Lexi was definitely smiling now and her teeth were like the man’s on the sketch. She removed her gloves and her glasses and pulled her hood back. The rest of her face was also similar, from the lines on her forehead and cheeks to this strange thing on her throat.

“Well, that went better than I expected,” Lexi said and appeared relieved.

“Is Lexi an elf?” asked Emma

In the elevator, the man laughed and he sounded like a dog barking. Laura blushed at her daughter’s remark. She had had a very limited number of age-appropriate books to go through but right now she regretted indulging her daughter’s obsession with Middle Earth.

Lexi smiled but with closed lips, hiding her teeth as she crouched to face Emma. She pulled back the hair covering her ears and Emma squealed and pointed at them while shaking her mother’s hand.

“Yes, I am,” said Lexi. “So is my friend. Do you want to see him?”

Lexi glanced at Laura who nodded in agreement. Very slowly the man in the elevator crossed the control room and also uncovered his features. Emma’s excitement was somewhat diminished.

“Elves have hair,” said Emma. “But your ears are nice,” she added as a very poor attempt at hiding her disappointment.

It was him, the man on the sketch and his appearance seemed more savage than Lexi’s. Especially with all those scars. Laura’s skin rose in intense goosebumps because his eyes, so inhuman, were fixated on Emma.

“Well,” he said and his voice was just as strange. “I am fortunate my ears are to your liking.”

His amusement made his features only slightly softer.

“We have a few things to tell you,” said Lexi and she did not appear to mind Emma little fingers reaching for her hair.

“Is it about the Master?”

Quinlan now stared at her and his eyes were piercing as he detailed Laura too intensely, on the verge of rudeness. They all sat at the kitchen table and Emma roamed around the newcomers.

“If you read my notebook then there are a few things you already know…the Master and how he started all this and how it could only end if he was stopped.”

“Yes…But frankly, I had trouble believing it for a long time.”

They sat around the kitchen table and Laura hesitated to offer them a cup of tea or some food. What was appropriate in such a situation?

“That’s understandable but it was true and the Master had to end.”

She could not help but notice the past tense. Quinlan sat straighter on his chair when Emma attempted to reach for the handle of his sword. Laura made big eyes at her daughter who ran back to her.

“I’m sorry about that,” said Laura as Quinlan stood and shed his harness and coat which he placed on top of the pantry. She took Emma on her lap and with a stern look.

“Did you get him?” asked Laura.

Had they come back to regroup after yet another failure? Lexi seemed exhausted. Laura did not dare hope.

“The Master is dead,” said Quinlan.

Laura wanted to go home. She wanted her daughter to have a future beside hiding in a hole and hoping to live another day. And now she would. Laura kissed Emma on the top of the head and her thin blonde hair tickled her nose. She could become a damn Hobbit if she wished. Anything.

“The nightmare is over almost over,” said Lexi with a grimace.

“What?”

“The Strigoi are still out there just...undirected,” said Quinlan.

“But the Partnership? The camps? They’re gone?”

“We have seen some camps and they were empty. We are going to New York to inquire about the state of the country,” said Lexi.

They were going to leave.

“We are coming with you.”

Lexi made an unsure “huh” sound.

“We are. My daughter will not grow up here, alone.”

“You will be safe in the bunker,” said Quinlan.

“But for how long? If we wait until we are as safe out there as we are in here then my daughter will never see the light of day again,” said Laura.

Quinlan raised a brow but did not answer.

“We don’t really know,” said Lexi. “We don’t have a precedent to refer to.”

“We’ve been hiding for long enough.”

Lexi and Quinlan looked at one another for an awkwardly long moment.

“We will go to New York and you are free to join us but…” said Lexi.

“If we judge that you and your child are exposed to undue risk, we will bring you back here. Whether you like it or not.”

The tone was final and would not tolerate any objection. Laura did not want to object because she did not want to see what happened if he became truly irritated.

 Laura had suggested both she and her daughter wanted to go back to civilization but Emma was dead set on making a liar out of her. The child was not keen on going anywhere. As a four-year-old, her memories of the outside world were limited to mayhem. As soon as Laura announced their departure in terms she could understand, the little girl had planted her feet down. A tantrum was brewing and Laura could see that nothing short of a miracle would defuse it.

Lexi and Quinlan stood near the elevator waiting for her to manage her progeny and it was mortifying. Then it started. Her little upturned nose wrinkled, her eyes squinted, she dropped to her knees and wailed. Laura massaged her temples. Lexi and Quinlan were probably judging her parenting skills. Carefully, she glanced at the couple.

Lexi’s eyes were panicked and she backed up against the wall. Quinlan picked her up gingerly and disappeared into her bedroom. Emma had been too engrossed in her own crying to notice.  

 They had postponed their departure for earliest hours of the next day when sleepiness made Emma more malleable. Laura thought about Lexi’s haunted face and why a crying child should send her in such a state.

The little girl drooled on Laura’s shoulder as they crossed the field above the bunker to find the car hidden under dead branches. Quinlan drove and every time he accelerated a little too much, Lexi would clear her throat and he would slow. Fully awake, Emma fidgeted and complained. It appeared that she might cry again and Laura wanted to avoid that. How would Lexi react again?

“We have to go back before night or they are going to find us,” said Emma with her face and Laura’s chest.

“Who will find you?” asked Lexi.

“The goblins.”

Then she lowered her voice and Lexi leaned between the passenger and driver’s seat as if receiving a secret.

“They are scared of the light but then at night, they come out,” whispered Emma.

Laura held her daughter tighter and promised herself to burn that damn book as soon as possible.

“Do you think elves like Quinlan and I are afraid of goblins?”

“No!”

“And are goblins afraid of elves?”

“I think so.”

“Then why are you acting so scared? You are with us and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

The four-year-old was placated by this demonstration of pure logic. She extirpated herself from Laura’s hug and looked at her as if she had made an embarrassing sound.

“Being scared is stupid.”

“Only sometimes…” said Laura but Emma was no longer listening. She lked out the window in awe. It had been a long time since she had seen more than concrete walls. Lexi turned back to face the road. Without looking, Quinlan reached for her hand. Laura wanted to ask what their natures truly was and would not accept “elf” as an answer.

The opportunity came when they stopped around noon for a brief moment. Laura had made the child eat a snack and then almost instantly she had passed out in the back of the car. Lexi and Laura waited for Quinlan to come back. He had gone looking for more gas in the nearest town.

“You’re not actually an elf, are you?” asked Laura as they sat in the shade of a tree.

“Ha! No. And there are no goblins out there either.”

“Are you some kind of Strigoi?”

It would explain the blood and their physique. Lexi rubbed her neck and stretched her back.

“We are Dhampir and we do share traits with the Strigoi but we are not of their kind.”

Laura did not quite know what to make of this information though it was satisfying to have been correct. She only had more questions but Lexi was quicker.

“What did you do before the Fall?” asked Lexi.

“I worked for the Oklahoma water resources board,” she replied and wondered if that made any sense to a non-human being.

“That’s important. You will be needed again then.”

“Probably but not where I lived. There is no one left there.”

They had been shipped away in trucks and Laura had fled with Emma by the skin of their teeth.

“I’m sure you’ll find a new position anywhere. Sooner or later.”

Lexi perked up and a few seconds later Quinlan arrived out of nowhere. He held a canister which stank and made soft sloshing sounds.

“We can depart,” he announced and filled the tank.

“Were there people? In that town?” asked Laura.

She so wanted to see another human face.

“No,” said Quinlan and he put the empty canister in the trunk.

They resumed their drive and after a few minutes, without any apparent reason, Lexi chuckled and leaned toward Quinlan to kiss him on the cheek. Then she extracted a paper bag from his large pocket.

“For when she wakes up…there are no elves or goblins in those,” she whispered and handed four colorful books to Laura.

They were illustrated and meant for very young children. All of them had a certain shine and smell typical of brand new books. Their covers stuck one another as if they had been pressed together for a long time. Laura’s throat felt suddenly very tight.

 ***

Gus shouted for retreat. It felt like the only thing he had done for the past month. Ever since Quinlan and Lexi had gone and half a day later the Strigoi had collapsed and convulsed. Ever since those same Strigoi had woken up again, thirsty as ever.

And now they were everywhere and New Yorkers could only leave their homes around noon when the light forced those motherfucking Strigs below. To take a nap after a night spent terrorizing, killing and infecting. Gus also wanted to sleep.

The SUVs were just a block ahead but they were not retreating fast enough. A man a few paces behind was overrun and screamed as three stingers stole his blood. Raul turned around and shot him in the head then after a second of hesitation, also shot the Strigoi running at him.

“I said retreat, cabron!” said Gus and he pulled his cousin along.

That night, they lost four people. Two to the Strigoi and two who returned home because they preferred leaving the task of cleaning up New York to others.

Good riddance, fucking quitters.

Amongst the shelves of depleted contraband, Gus found a bottle of pain killers of which he popped two before washing them down with a swig of whiskey.  The last of it. He grabbed two ration packs and ate upstairs with his soldiers, gathered around the large television screen. They too ate their two proteins bars. Since they were officially part of the cleaning effort, they got double the rations compared to the rest of the populace. Gus deposited the bottle pain killers in front of Raul who clutched a bag of ice over his shoulder.

“How is the arm?” asked Gus.

Raul grunted, the vocal equivalent of a shrug he could not physically make right now. At least the joint had not dislocated again. The phone rang behind the bar and he heaved himself off the couch. His back made popping noises and some of its stiffness alleviated.

“What?” he barked into the phone.

“It’s Costello,” said a woman.

As if he was expecting a phone call from anyone else. She was the new Mayor of the city. Before the Fall she had been something like the fiftieth in charge or whatever. Gus didn’t care.

“I’ve got five more people to join and another shipment of gear. They should get to you with the next sunlight.”

“We lost Red Hook again and two of your last batch packed up their shit and left today.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I thought you said you’d fix that?”

“There is only so much I can give them. More food, shelter and a comfortable pension when it’s done. What else is there?”

She sounded almost as tired as he was New York was a giant dumpster fire and she attempted to put it out with a glass of water.

“I don’t give a crap how you do it. I kill Strigs and you find soldiers. Or do you wanna switch?”

“No, I fucking don’t. But that’s not why I called you.”

Gus leaned against the bar and pinched the bridge of his nose. His hand stank of gunpowder and sweat. What else now?

“You asked me to find that woman, Miss Gupta.”

Gus slowly sank to the floor and clenched his teeth.

“The internet came back two days ago and lists are just now uploaded and…”

“Just fucking tell me!” he screamed.

The soldiers went quiet and someone cut off the sound of the television.

“She is alive.”

He laughed and cried at the same time. Costello waited until he stopped.

“Can you bring her here?”

“Yeah, I can. She is not very far, but there is something you need to know about where she spent all that time.”

“She okay?”

“Yes…”

“Then I don’t give a shit.”

Costello sighed and explained. And Gus had been right, he really did not give a shit.

 Gus stood by the window, chewing his lower lip. It was almost noon and the streets were brightening. It was safe to go out. Raul was cleaning his gun and Gus’ on the coffee table facing the television.

“Go sleep for fuck’s sake. You have no idea when she’ll arrive,” said Raul.

“I’m not tired,” said Gus.

“Yeah, right.”

Raul reassembled his Glock in seconds and racked its slide. Satisfied, he inserted the magazine full of silver bullets in its well. He repeated the same process with Gus’s weapon.

“I’m gonna chat with the new meat Costello sent yesterday. How about you go and check if your room is decent. In case you left some porn lying around…”

Gus stared at his cousin in mild shock and amusement. This was a remark he would have expected from Amir, not from him. Raul put his gun in his side holster then on his way to the staircase, handed Gus his clean M9.

 The Sun Hunter searched for something else to clean or tidy but the space positively gleamed. He sat on his bed and tried to imagine how Aanya would see all this. The bed was neatly made and smelled of freshly changed sheets. The polished cement floors were almost spotless if not for a speck of dried paint there and there. There was a table by one of the occluded windows, with a small television screen on which rested a picture of Gus and his mother. Everything could burn in this flat except for this one picture. By the bed, there were shelves with clothes and some books. On a chair, a pair of boxing gloves which had until the previous day been gathering dust and now shone under the artificial lights.

He was ashamed at the sterility and emptiness of his living quarters. Not even a carpet, or a painting. Gus held his face and lied on the bed with a grunt. It looked like a prison cell, not a home. For a minute he considered grabbing one of the SUVs downstairs to drive to the Upper East side or the suburbs and steal some furniture. Before he could decide he fell asleep.

 A knock on his door jolted him awake and his body flooded with adrenaline. He stood and wiped at his face as though to remove any trace of sleep from it.

“Yeah?” he said.

The door opened slowly and he instantly stared at the fingers holding it. They were thin and golden brown. Gus almost ran because there she was. Aanya stood in his room and though she smiled that expression was tainted with worry. She wore a loose flannel shirt and baggy pants and her hair was much longer than before the Fall. And she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever met. He wanted to cry when she accepted his hug and his kiss. She smelled very different now, of shampoo but without any trace of the strong spices which used to always cling to her.

“You stayed in the city all this time?” she asked.

She sounded proud and that made his chest feel large and full.

“Lots to do.”

Then because he suddenly wanted to get it out of the way he asked,

“What happened after you left? You parents?”

She shook her head and looked down.

“And here? Angel? I didn’t see him downstairs.”

“He didn’t make it.”

She didn’t cry but her large black eyes were grave. When he tried to hold her by the hips she took a step back, a little panicked.

“I…I…,” she said and put a shaky hand above her mouth.

“Yeah I know,” he said.

“You do?”

And it was obvious she did not believe him. So he walked to her, kneeled and pressed his face against her round midsection hidden under the loose flannel. She stroked his shaved head and made a quiet strangled sound.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered.

“They caught us a month in. That’s not your fault.”

“I should have gone with you.”

She held his face up.

“It’s not your fault.”

And this time he did not believe her though he really wanted to. He also wanted to find every single person who had put their hands on her, every single doctor, every single nurse, and all those pencil pushers and he wanted to kill them himself.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked because he did not want to think such violent thoughts right next to her pregnant belly.

“A girl.”

He smiled and pressed his ear against the roundness as if hoping to hear her move. Gus was about to ask when she would be born when Aanya spoke with a very small voice.

“The first one was a boy…but they took him. They said the babies would be adopted out but they were lying…they killed him. They killed all of them.”

She was crying by the time she was done speaking. Gus stood and led her to the bed so she could cry all she wanted. He had known that too.

“This one they won’t have. She will be fine. It’s over now, we just need to finish some cleaning and before you know it, she’ll grow up a true New Yorker.”

She did not stop crying and he did not mind.

“Did you choose a name for her?”

“No, not yet.”

He removed her shoes and pulled the blanket over her.

“Will you tell me? What happened here after I left?” she asked.

“Sure.”

He removed his own boots and slid under the covers.

“You remember that weird ass guy who showed up at the restaurant?”

Aanya nodded vigorously. Quinlan was a difficult man to forget. And he told her almost everything but glossed over the violence and the deaths and the loss. He made it look like a victory because that was what she needed to hear. But then he thought of that baby, how no one would take her away and how Aanya was back and safe. For the first time since the battle of Central Park, it did feel like a victory.

 Angela. Aanya had chosen to call her baby Angela and Gus could not stop thinking about them. He thought about the building which had once been his black market and now housed men and women who killed Strigs for a living. That did not seem like a good place to raise a baby. But then again, maybe it was the only safe place to raise a child. Everyone was armed to the teeth in there and Strigoi would not find a way in, even if they still had any brains left.

During his outings, he sometimes brought back small items he thought she might need. A blanket, a brush, some baby clothing. When he came back one morning with a carton full of heavy volumes, she glanced at the contents and scratched the tip of her nose.

“Huh, …what are those?”

“Some books on medicine…in case you’re still interested. Med schools are not going to re-open right away but I thought…you might want to get a head start.”

He grabbed one of them and handed it to her, particularly happy to have found it. The title was Clinical Respiratory Medicine. Gus had had to give the Librarian a silver blade and canned foods to get those books but that was a bargain from his point of view.

“But with the baby and…”

He put the book back down.

“Whatever you want to do, I’ll make it happen,” said Gus.

“If the schools do open again…who will take care of Angela while I study? Med school is a full-time job.”

“Plenty of families make it work even when both parents have full-time jobs.”

And there it was, the worry on her face again. Every time he suggested that he would be there for both of them.

“You know, I don’t mind being a stay-at-home dad. Retirement sounds good.” - she smiled but her eyes were still sad - “We’ll go to the park…hell, I’ll even learn finger painting. That’s the dream.”

Then he teased her because he wanted her to laugh.

“Maybe you’re scared I’ll spoil her rotten?”

He missed the mark, she did not laugh but at least she huddled against him.

 With the perspective of soon becoming a father, there was a slew of new fears Gus had not expected. Well, it was not like he had tons of time to prepare and those were not normal circumstances. When he walked into nests of stinking Strigs he was scared of not coming back. Gus pictures Raul climbing up the stairs to his flat and opening the door and that Aanya would look into his face and know right away what had happened. That terrified him more than anything. Having a lot to lose kinda sucked sometimes.

“Raul, pinche puto!”

His cousin stormed into the nest ahead of everyone and Gus wanted to punch him in the face. It was mostly with luck that they cleared the building without anyone getting stung. They reached the last floor and Gus breathed until he spotted the newest guy Costello had sent.

“What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to guard the street!”

“Huh, …everyone was going in so…”

“You fucking idiot.”

Surely, they could be lucky for just five more minutes. But no. He reached the entrance door just as a horde of Strigoi barreled down the street, attracted by the noise and the smells of their bodies. Gus spat a string of swears. All they had needed to get away safely was a thirty-second heads up. The SUVs were right there parked in the street and now completely inaccessible. The soldiers were outnumbered at least three to one. He closed the entrance of the building just as the first Strigoi smashed against it violently. Maybe they could make it out if they held their ground until the sunlight.

Raul was already closing off the access to the flats in the hallway. But that would not keep them out very long. The creatures were now too dumb to use a door handle but they could smash their way through given enough time. The ground level windows shattered as the first wave of creatures invaded the flats and instantly scratched at the doors. Shit.

They would all die here and Aanya would never even know what had happened.

Gus would never meet Angela.

Only two flats had windows facing that street which left three possible ways for the Strigoi to reach them. Two doors the main entrance.

They were ready for their onslaught and judging by the way the wooden panels were splintering, it would come sooner rather than later. A bead of sweat ran down Gus’ temple. The Strigoi stopped throwing themselves at the doors. They screeched and inside the flats, furniture was getting smashed and there was also the soft thuds of bodies hitting the floor. Gus looked at Raul who seemed just as confused as he was. Those were the sounds of Strigoi dying and they were both extremely familiar with them.

There was silence except for the heavy breathing of the soldiers and the loud beats of his own heart filling his head.

Someone knocked at the front door.

They all stared with slacking jaws. After five seconds, the knocking sounds resumed, more pressing this time.

“Augustin Elizalde, will you please come out?”

That voice was a kick in the stomach. It was a goddamn ghost.

“Holy shit,” whispered Raul and he immediately ran and opened the door.

Two people stood in the middle of the street, hooded and so familiar. Marcus and Miguel murmured excitedly to one another. Brevil had been quite clear Lexi and Quinlan were dead and since the Strigoi had gotten up, Gus had doubted him. Then he had heard that the volcano had exploded so violently that anything anywhere close to it had burned. Obviously, they had not been that close. He shook his head and his smile was bitter.

“What the fuck took you so long?” he asked and avoided the cut up Strigoi littering the pavement.

“We needed time to lick our wounds,” said Quinlan and both of them uncovered their heads.

Quinlan had gnarly scars across his face. Lexi was skinnier than Gus remembered and by all standards human or Dhampir, she looked like shit. Her eyes seemed sunken. And her skin was greyish instead of pure white.

“You were wrong,” said Raul and he too stared at Lexi. “They did not die.”

Lexi looked down, ashamed.

“Yes, we learned of our mistake after the fact,” said Quinlan. “Our error lied in assuming that death of the mind and that of the body were the same. We are here to remedy it.”

Gus resented them. Part of him blamed those two for Amir, for Arturo, for Julio and for all who had died since Central Park. But the other half of him was relieved beyond measure. He felt like a kid with a scraped knee whose parent just arrived to take care of business. He would never admit to that though, not even on his death bed.

 Back at the headquarters, Gus instantly noticed a beat up car amongst the black SUVs. Then when they all exited their vehicles he froze at a sound he had not heard in years. A child laughing. At the dinner table, a woman he did not know sat with a little girl on her lap and Aanya was telling her things that made her screech in delight.

“Who’s that?” Gus asked Lexi.

“A friend we picked on the way,” she said after Quinlan discretely grabbed her hand. “This is Laura and her daughter Emma. I hope you don’t mind if they stay here for the time being.”

Gus was about to retort that he did mind. That this was his place and he had to decide who was allowed to even come in. But then again, Aanya was smiling and laughing. The building was always filled with men and women running around with weapons and she had little in common with them.

“Fine. But we’re gonna have to go triple on the rooms very soon, cause we’re running out of space.”

If they stayed here, they would need to modify the building to allow for more sleeping quarters. After all, now that the market was dissolved, did they really need the lower level to be filled with all those shelves and crates?

“Your room is occupied right now but we’ll do some shuffling around. You’ll get it back,” said Gus.

“The metal trunk is in the vault. We didn’t touch it,” said Raul.

“Thank you,” said Lexi. She smiled softly.

Aanya was approaching carefully with her incredibly large eyes full of curiosity. Obviously, she had not yet met the Dhampir. She was not yet accustomed to their schedule and had probably just woken up. Quinlan and Lexi stared and though Aanya wore very large clothes, both their eyes traveled to her belly. Then they looked at one another. He seemed worried and she started with a smile and then a scowl which made Quinlan look away. They were so annoying with that mind reading bullshit.

“That’s Quinlan and that’s Lexi,” said Gus to break the awkward silence.

“I’m Aanya.”

Lexi thrust a hand toward her and Aanya shook it and then pulled her hand back against her chest.

“Warm,” she said in fascination.

Gus jutted his chin toward Raul and pointed at the soldiers. Raul gave him a thumb up and took charge of all the post-mission procedures.

“Let’s sit down. I’ve got a shit ton of questions,” said Gus.

His back was aching again. He was hungry, tired and in serious need of a shower. Despite all that crap, he was hopeful. He pulled Aanya close and planted a noisy kiss on her forehead. He would meet Angela for sure.

[theticklishpear]

(A table of contents is available. This series will remain open for additional posts and the table of contents up-to-date as new posts are added.)

Part Five: Putting A Companion To Use

As much fun as it is to have a creature accompanying your party, they must have a reason for being there. Cute, fun, and an exercise for world-building and creature conceptualizing simply aren’t good enough reasons. This doesn’t just apply to creature characters, but also to secondary and tertiary characters (and sometimes even main characters): If a character is only present for perhaps one or two purposes that are not directly impacting the plot, your highest priority should be finding a way to combine their most important features with another more vital character. That said, there are things you can do to make sure your creature character pulls their weight in the tale.

Fighting Skills

Even taking into consideration what type of story you’re telling, it’s highly likely that your characters will encounter obstacles in their path that require combat. Maybe it’s thieves ambushing them on the road, maybe it’s a stare-down with the antagonist in the center of the city, or maybe it’s tensions running high within the group. Whatever is going on, you need to be aware of how your creature companion will contribute to the fray.

Return to the list of attributes you wrote for your creature earlier in the post series and begin to think about how their physiology will let them fight. Are they small and sneaky, dangerously quick and notoriously hard to catch? Or are they large, intimidating, with hides built for soaking up damage? Are they prone to losing themselves in the rage of a fight, or are they clear-headed and strategic? Are they used to fighting or not? How well they’re able to keep their head, defend, and exploit weaknesses in an enemy will depend not only on what weapons they have but also how used to the stress of the situation they are. Adrenaline can do a lot of things, but a perfect, flawless fighter it will not make. Make sure you also consider their weaknesses in battle. Where are they vulnerable? Where will they always be sure to guard? What will absolutely, no-holds-barred make them lose their focus? How willing are they to die for other characters?

Not all your creatures will have the same depth of fight-or-flight, and creature companions with more complex intelligence may also come with a morality that may differ from your humanoid characters. What’s your creature companion’s end-game goal in a fight--kill, disable, exert dominance until surrender, or flee? How will they view those who act in ways that contradict their own beliefs about right and wrong in combat circumstances, or those who are willing to enact harsher tactics than they are? Will they continue to follow orders?

Non-combat Skills

Not all our creature companions will be suitable for combat, and that’s okay, but they need to be able to contribute directly to the plot in another way. Perhaps your companion is as simple as a pet mouse kept in the pocket or pack of a character. Think about what kinds of skills that creature may have that it could be trained or convinced to use to benefit the story. The mouse is probably not particularly useful in a fight, but it can be convinced to crawl beneath doors to see if anyone is inside a room or fetch small, light objects like parchment or loose coins.

Walk through each of the senses as pertains to your creature and write yourself a list of traits that may come in handy in the story. The list of characteristics you made earlier in the post series will be a tremendous help with getting you started, so I suggest pulling that out to begin with. Are they pack animals? Can they track? How’s their sight versus smell? Do they have nimble hands/feet with the ability to manipulate things? Do they sense heat? Can they be taught tricks? Do they obey? Can they fetch?

Mythical Creatures

When your creature companion is straight out of mythology, or your world has any kind of pervasive magic, it adds a whole other layer to what your companions may be capable of. Remember to list out any kind of extraordinary abilities your mythical creatures may have that regular creatures may not including things like the ability to turn others to stone, or breathe fire, to manipulate minds, emotions, fates, shadows and light, or any other powers that may be granted to them from their unique physiology or the magical effects of your world. Be sure to take into consideration how common they are to see around the world, as that will have a big impact on the intimidation factor of their combat or their ability to go unnoticed in crowds. We’ll talk more about communication a little later, but now may be a good time to note whether your creature has any sort of telepathic communication abilities as it would come in handy during pretty much any sort of fighting situation, to be able to speak and give orders to others from anywhere on a battle field.

Next up: Personality!

[mantigames-blog]

Best Free Online Dragon Games of All Time to Play - Check Now

Do you think that playing games is an excellent way to relax, a lot of scientists have proven that playing games can help us to reduce stress and increase your brain power. Below are the best free online dragon games of 2018 and all time you should play now.

Dragon Witch

Dragon With is one of the coolest free online dragon games we want to introduce to you. Your closest friend has been kidnapped by the horde of monsters. And your mission is to take the road and start the journey of rescuing your friend. You will encounter with a large number of brutal evils, and if you aren't careful, you will become their food. Use the arrow keys to avoid all challenging obstacles to win the game.

» Click here for more: https://plus.google.com/100196753202708218676/posts/8hZLJTwy3vu

Dragon Runner

Unlike other dragon games, in Dragon runner, you have to take the responsibility of protecting your village against the force of evils and dragons. You will control a brave hero and you are equipped with an armour and a sharp sword. Use the up arrow key or D to jump to dodge all obstacles on the road. Press A to attack and S to defend yourself. You should pay absolute attention to the PC screen because all the fireballs from the dragon can fall down your head, observing everything will help you to have the best solution to all situations. The red bar on the screen top indicates your HP, if it drops to zero, you will die.

» Read more here: https://www.facebook.com/freeonlinegamesmantigames/posts/844106402587478

Dragon Flier

Are you hunting free online dragon games in which you can control a dragon and kill all people you like? Although Dragon Flyer has only 2D graphics, all the details in the game are quite vividly designed. Use the mouse to navigate your dragon and left click to release fireballs. You are always attacked by a massive amount of different challenges so you must be very careful to avoid all of them. You also must be very cautious with the stone released from the catapults on the ground. Collecting coins will enable you to upgrade many things to have better experience and feeling. Gathering the armours will help you to have one more armour, but when you are damaged once, you will lose one life, when all the lives drop to zero, you will have to start the game from the beginning.

» Click this link for more: https://twitter.com/mantigames/status/1083199252690460675

How To Raise A Dragon

The game content is so clear, right? You will study how to raise a dragon. The dragon will undergo a long process from an egg to a mature dragon. The backgrounds of the game always change so that we are sure you will not feel bored with the game. The graphics of the game are not so attractive, but we believe that you will love How To Raise A Dragon.

» To see more, click this link: https://www.pinterest.com/mantigames/top-hottest-free-online-dragon-games/

How do you feel about the list of funny dragon games? Open your PC and play now.

[casualarsonist]

ArmA 3 review

NB: This is a review of the base game only – it doesn’t include anything regarding multiplayer or Apex, so take that as you will.

Arma 3’s single-player campaign is one of the most terrifying of any game I’ve ever played. It makes me wish that I’d trained in the military, because perhaps then I’d spend less time getting my ass handed to me. Perhaps I’d have a better eye for noticing details on the battlefield that alert me to danger. Perhaps I’d spend less time in loading screens waiting for my last save to boot up again, or clutching my fists in frustrated rage at how close I’d been to defeating the enemy before taking a bullet to the skull.

Now I skulk around corners. I dread urban combat and all the possible hiding places for enemies. I hit the deck or scramble for cover the second I hear the crack of a rifle, and if I don’t, I’m usually dead soon after. Arma 3 is good at making you dead, and if I played the game accepting the consequences of my poor decisions, I’d be having a much worse time - the enemy AI is whip smart at times, almost too smart, and most of my problems occur when I assume that they won’t act like a human, such as the time I was driving a pickup up a hill and a sniper started taking potshots at me from across the valley; there was little chance that I was going to find him before he wounded or killed me, so I kept driving and ignored him, assuming that he wouldn’t be able to hit us. I lost a man that day. However, a lot of problems also occur when I assume that my AI companions will act like humans, for not all AI is made equal, and this is but one of the unbalanced, unintuitive aspects of Arma 3 that still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

The game is at its best when it’s allowing the story of the player to unfold as a dynamic result of the player’s unpredictable interactions with the pieces the developers have put on the playing field -  stumbling across a patrol while on foot can spark a desperate life-or-death skirmish, clearing out an urban environment is a terrifying game of cat-and-mouse, and there’s always the choice to fight or flee that allows for spontaneous, varied, and tense interactions. Emergent gameplay is where Arma excels, and in the spirit of a good military sim, it plays best if you to plan ahead, adapt to the changing battlefield, and suffer with the wounds you sustain; that is, unless it kills you outright, which is so often does, which then prompts either sober reflection on your mistakes, or bitter frustration at the janky design choices that left you floundering.

Yes, janky design – a term synonymous with any Arma release, and present here as always, for one of the main issues with the game is that so much of the end result of any confrontation in Arma 3 can come down to a number of factors that could be perceived as clunky design, or simple unfairness, particularly: how well you understand the many, many unexplained mechanics, how preternaturally accurate the enemy are at any given time, and often, simple random luck. At its best the game teaches you how to play by punishing you for failing to abide by its laws, but sadly, at its worst it punishes you for not knowing what the laws are.

For example,  I didn’t know that my character could sustain damage in a car crash until I crashed my car into a tree and got out with a limp about 5 minutes after the fact – there was no feedback when I hit the tree, and the game didn’t tell me up-front that I’d be injured, so how was I to know the rule before I made the mistake? Sure, I knew about it once I had done it, and I could’ve reloaded, but setting players back 5-10 minutes every time they discover a new inconvenience built into your system because you’ve simply failed to tell them how your game works is not good design. Similarly, AI teammates often won’t tell you when they’re injured, and you’ll only realise they’re hurt when your character melds minds with them telepathically and asks for a SITREP seconds before they die. The fact that this moment of automation comes with far too little warning to heal them only incites frustration – if a squad-mate needs help, I shouldn’t have to wait for them to keel over after minutes of silent bleeding in order to know that they needed to be fixed. This ‘trial and error’ vibe that requires you to fall into a trap before you know that the traps can even exist seems at odds with the game’s desire to encourage you to ‘adapt and survive’.

And of course, in every war there’s the poor grunt that sets off the tripwire and, in becoming mincemeat, informs his companions that they need to be careful, but in Arma 3 you’re that poor grunt - if you die, it’s game over, too bad, try again. It’d be mitigated slightly if you could take control of a companion after your death – in that case, your team would continue on and you’d truly be forced to adapt as circumstances unfold, but you can’t adapt if you’re dead, and re-entering the area knowing where the dangers are takes away some of the feeling of spontaneity and realism. So, as is the norm with Arma, there are many frustrating design aspects that still apply to the game, even in its third major iteration.

I’ve vented my frustration, but it’s true that Arma 3 is like no other FPS out there. I must reiterate the visceral thrill the game gives you – there’s a mission in the single-player campaign in which you’re dumped on a beach with a pistol, and must make your way to a squad of men about a kilometre away. How you get there is up to you, but between you and the squad lies a village crawling with smart enemy soldiers. It’s possible to sneak by the enemies patrolling the area, but there are quite a few to avoid, and just as you get by one group, you’re likely to run into another. You can scavenge dead bodies for weapons and ammo, but shooting attracts other soldiers. I had to restart at least a dozen times if not more as it was so easy to die, but once I got over the rage-quit-inducing frustration of the mission, I found myself crouched at the corner of a building, my heart racing in my chest as I prepared to cross a road blind. I knew that if I was attacked and killed, I’d have to replay 5-10 minutes again, and I was almost paralysed with anxiety – I feared my death in the game in a real, tangible way, in a way that made me mentally prepare for the task I was about to undertake. This kind of deep emotional impact is so rare, and whilst some games can instil fear in a player through stress, I found the thrill that Arma 3 gives you is one of adrenaline. Killing the last enemy in an encounter, reaching your waypoint, fleeing the helicopters that are scanning the landscape, all these accomplishments are met with a sigh of genuine relief and a feeling of real achievement.

It’s also worth noting that the best time I had as a player was when I was given the chance to stray from the narrative missions and take a team into the open world and complete small scouting tasks. Perhaps the joy I took from the freedom to create my own story is an indication that multiplayer is where the most fun will be had? In any case, being injured and stumbling across a township in which there were entrenched soldiers that need to be removed, skulking around the streets, getting brained once, twice, stepping on a mine, checking every single doorway from then on out…it’s an exhilarating experience. Again, marred a little by the fact that it felt like trial and error (I didn’t know the enemies used mines until I stepped on one), but exhilarating none-the-less.

If the goal of the Arma 3 single-player campaign is to teach you the skills and caution required to be a real-life soldier, it succeeds admirably. If the goal is to make you feel like the leader of a unit of capable human beings, it fails miserably. It’s true that you can order and position your men wisely, and pull off an attack flawlessly, but this is undermined by the far more frequent occasions in which the enemy spots you or a teammate first and kills someone before you can navigate the fiddly command menu and order your puppets to do anything other than soak up bullets. Overall, the single-player content of the game is a very mixed bag; the best memories I have of the game lie at opposite ends of the spectrum - either elation following a rare engagement that’s successful on the first try, or fear-soaked nightmares of bullets cracking, whipping by my head, and pelting the ground around me. If it sounds like I’m in two minds about the game - torn between wonderful moments of realism and frustrating moments of design - I am. Ultimately though, I know that the former trumps the latter because sometimes I stop running and rest in the shade of trees because it feels hot out. Sitting down and trying to objectively rate the game, I find myself wanting to give it a lower score than it probably deserves. I’m not blind to the face that I give almost everything here a ‘7′ or more, because I review a lot of games that I would say are good-to-great, and honestly, some aspects of Arma 3′s design feel like ‘5′. But I think that, as a single-player game, it’s better than the sum of its awkward parts. It puts you through the grinder, and forces you to become the best possible player in order to succeed, and despite the frustration, most of the time it’s worth it for the glory and the one-of-a-kind thrill.

7/10  

Good

[terryblount]

Tom Clancy’s The Division 2 Review

It seems like an eternity since I was last called to service as a Division Agent. It was set shortly after Black Friday, 2015, a date that can’t be erased from my memory. This was the first time I was called to save people and even humanity from a mortally dangerous virus unleashed in the heart of New York on that busy Black Friday.

In the original game there was much exploration through city streets and scavenging of abandoned vehicles. I united with my fellow Division Agents, and after many missions the operation was a success. We did it, together. Now, three years later, I’m yet again called to service as a Division Agent in a new decimated city with whole new threats to humanity. It’s time to once again change our lives, forever.

This is where you’ll start. A pleasant setting leading to greater conflicts.

As a personal note, I’ve been really hoping for a sequel to 2016’s The Division. However, I was a bit worried that a sequel might be like the first at release: great but unfinished and buggy. Plus the original’s end-game was an endless “Dark Zone” grind, which was sort of like a warm but tasteless soup.

Hence, I didn’t want to yet again have to wait for months of patches and DLC to finally experience a complete and engaging experience. Thankfully, The Division 2 avoids these problems, as we’ll soon discuss.

There’s many urban centers like the first game, but the mood is brighter and more vibrant.

The Division 2 starts exactly 7 months (in-game time) after the first game and throws you into the action without much of a concern about all the things you missed if you didn’t play the first game.

From the beginning the game feels like a tighter and more focused product than the original, but the wonderfully apocalyptic and American-centric blockbuster atmosphere it is still present. And what city could fit better as the setting for American Armageddon than the capital city itself: Washington D.C.!

The main menu is nice looking and easy to use.

As for the backstory, the epidemic that began in New York was unable to be contained and it spread to other major cities. Even Washington D.C. has fallen under plague and madness, reaching the President’s very own White House.

Given the bleak setting, sadness and sorrow are ever-present among the survivors, and nature itself is now able to do what it does best: invade and grow. It’s not unusual to find animals running around looking for food or to find plants and grass growing on buildings, roads, and cars.

The White House! The Division 2 wonderfully recreates iconic locations like this.

The original game from 2016 looked great with it’s semi-sparse New York city streets. There was a great Christmas/nighttime atmosphere throughout the game, but for this second installment the developers have made things even greater.

In The Division 2 you’ll find more guns and loot, more missions (main and secondary), and more liveliness overall, be it people, animals, plants, or living centers. Bases are now more populated by survivors, and you can find children playing, singers, and musicians.

Just a typical walk around in the neighborhood. It’s a bit gloomy today.

Every time you complete a mission you can use various materials or your experience to make life better in the living centers, creating new areas, new playgrounds, and new rooms for example. Everything is more alive than ever, even if the plague’s still there.

I might summarize the first game with the term “explore.” This second game also has exploration, but it is more about how you engage with the world. Hence, this second game is more linked with the word “interact.”

Look at the pretty graphics and reflections on the water!

You interact with your gear and progression. You interact with your companions, helping them to survive and build their bases. You study your enemies and environments to find clues to help you more wisely interact with your world.

For these reasons, I found myself enthralled with the beauty and fantastic level of detail of my surroundings. There’s just so much to find and do as you go from mission to mission.

This was a car. Now it’s a barrier. That’s how life goes sometimes.

A large part of the fun in the game is the badass enemies set on killing you and your friends. They feature a more modern artificial intelligence and are much more aggressive in their clever use of the environment. Hordes of these enemies really make your survival harder than ever.

While The Division 2 gives you bigger and better environments, the gameplay controls are virtually the same as the original. This is a fine thing since new players will easily learn the solid controls, which are customizable to suite everyone’s tastes. Veterans will find the same layouts and fall right back in to the enjoyable gameplay loop of the first game.

This is me trying to survive hordes of enemy. Duck and cover.

The game also features great support for either mouse and keyboard or gamepads. This is very welcome for those of us like me who prefer to play with keyboard and mouse at the office and a controller on the couch. (At home I play on my laptop, laying on the couch, while using an Xbox 360 controller, and I have no regrets about this.)

For those who really love the PvP “Dark Zone” location of the first The Division, you’ll love the new take on the “Dark Zones.” This second game gives you three zones placed around the city, so you’ll be able to play in PvP mode with more variety and easy access than ever before.

This is me, still trying not to die. There’s a lot of taking cover in the game, FYI.

When finishing the main story in the original The Division, players had the chance to replay missions over and over or compete in the PvP area. This binary option was a bit boring and made the game feel incomplete and unsatisfying to many of us.

In this sequel, the endgame continuously gives you new challenges through encounters with new and stronger enemies (the Black Tusks) and new materials and loot, always better than the previous items.

Even at launch, The Division 2 feels like a complete game, and update after update will continue to add more challenges for those who are strong and brave. If you commit to the game, there’s a potential for seemingly limitless character evolution.

There’s so much loot and equipment to find and equip.

It should be noted that this is an online-only game; being online is mandatory at all times. This game also is much easier when playing in a group. You can try to complete each mission alone, but it’s not ideal. Thanks to a built-in matchmaking system, you can easily join with friends or strangers at every part of the game. Sometimes you’ll also respond to (or send) S.O.S. calls from other players.

There’s matchmaking to facilitate partying up!

On the technical side, the Snowdrop engine’s excellent power is on showcase in this sequel. Graphically, things are great. There’s some texture pop-up, which is sometimes distracting, but this is a minor issue. Overall, the game crafts a credible and vivid Washington D.C. location that’s just as impressive as the original game’s New York.

While there’s very little to complain about regarding the engine or performance, sometimes the game can crash on certain computer setups when using the DX12 renderer, which requires manually editing the config files to restart using the DX11 renderer.

Did I mention there’s a White House in this game? Yep, it’s the White House.

Apart from the crashing issue, using max settings on my 1050 Ti-equipped laptop gave me an average of 30 frames per second without any worries. Reaching areas with many enemies dropped the FPS a little bit, but reducing shadows quality fixed this. The game should run very well on more powerful systems.

I died. It happens. Thankfully death isn’t too extreme in this game.

I admit I’m not the best shooter player, and after 7 hours I was still at level 6. I’ve died many times on missions, even with the help of other players. But it doesn’t matter how many times I die, lose, and retry. I always feel that I’m evolving, and I think each play session is rewarding for players. This means even newbies will not have to worry about the sense of failure that comes with less forgiving games.

I love shopping! So many pretty outfits to try on! Must gear up!

In conclusion, the first game started something interesting but this second one delivers on the promise. What began as a more bare-bones franchise has developed into a robust looter-shooter that makes everything bigger, better, and more interesting.

Since booting it up, it feels like a complete game that will continue to get even better down the road. I feel this is the perfect mix between strong story missions (even if filled some clich?s), an interesting PvE open world, and competitive PvP modes.

This is me running away from my inevitable death. Even if I die, I’ll enjoy the experience.

I have never been to Washington D.C., but after playing The Division 2 I’m sure I’ll feel some d?j? vu if I ever do visit. I feel like I’ve lived in the city and experienced so much, eliminating the bad guys and saving countless lives. The Division 2, with its Washington D.C. setting, is a truly unforgettable and unmissable experience.

Plenty of content

Great voice acting

Graphically impressive

Matchmaking is easy

A complete experience

Repetitive at times

Playing solo can be tough

DX12 renderer issues

Always online

  Playtime: 20 hours total (and counting). Mathieu has not completed the game, but he’s still playing it!

Computer Specs: Windows 10 64-bit laptop computer, with 16GB of Ram, Nvidia 1050Ti.

Also read the The Division 2 PC Performance Analysis.

Tom Clancy’s The Division 2 Review published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/

[fatgirlsguidetodating]

I wrote this a little while ago to be anonymously posted on a friend’s blog. It’s one of a few events that have shaped my life. (I have two or three more to write about both for her blog and mine.) I decided to share it here in the hopes that it helps people understand me more and the impact- long and short term- bullying can have on someone. I don’t see how it could help anyone really unless to tell you if you have been bullied or were bullied you can survive that shit and you will be stronger for it down the track.

*****

I know that for many people high school can be hell in parts. I know that many kids have been bullied in school. For me that part was almost the entire year of 8th grade, a year so horrible that I regularly contemplated killing myself, cried myself to sleep most nights, woke in the morning crying because God hadn’t answered my prayers to let me just die, and just generally was completely and utterly miserable and totally alone. I remember one day, with my usual puffy red eyes in the morning, thinking how if it were possible that we only get a certain quota of tears in our lifetime that I must surely have used up a shitload of them. I remember mum, in tears with me, having to practically drag me to school. I remember countless meetings with the school social worker, the year co-ordination, the vice principal and mum. All this was because it had been decreed by the popular girl of the class that I was persona non grata. Nobody was allowed to talk to me in class or out of class- unless it was to say something cruel like about how I was fat. That was allowed. Tripping me over was allowed. But nice things? No.

There were only 2 people who went against this. On one occasion one of the boys who I had also gone to primary school with asked me if I was ok? Such small words. I managed to nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. “Hang in there,” he said. “It’ll blow over.” I had to hide my face behind my then long hair so he- and nobody- saw my tears. That one simple act of kindness meant more than he will ever know.

The second was when one of the girls I used to hang around with before the decree returned a book she borrowed from me. Her little sister had made a mess of the book. She offered to buy me another one to replace it. I said it was fine. I didn’t need to be hated anymore than I was. She left me a note inside the book apologising and signing it with xoxo. I remember thinking how hollow it was given she hadn’t spoken to me in a few months.

How did this happen? In an absolutely ridiculous fashion.

Something mean was written about me on a table: it said, in essence, my name is X and 1) I want to be Y’s boyfriend, 2) Z’s best friend , 3) I never have showers and I think there MAY have been a fourth one but I can’t for the life of me remember what it said. I think I blocked a lot of that year out. My minds way of protecting myself I guess, like people often do for traumatic events.

As an adult I can say they were relatively benign statements but as a 14 year old they weren’t. The thing was the popular girl decided that I had written them about myself. (Seriously!) Her reasoning: it looked “kinda” like my handwriting (it didn’t) and it looked like my pen (one owned by almost everyone in the class including, ironically, her). Interestingly a few months later one of the popular girls told me that she had seen the bitch coming out of that classroom not long before it was discovered. I’ll never know who did it but the simple fact that the popular girl said it was me meant that naturally the class agreed with her.

So when she said nobody was to talk to me they all just did it. Not a single person stood up for me. I have felt lonely at many, many times in my life (haven’t we all) but the loneliness of that one moment will never ever be forgotten. Even now I feel literally sick as I remember that moment. It was like one of those movies where you wake up from a dream and everyone’s gone, and you are all alone. Or a dream where you suddenly become invisible and no matter how much you scream and jump up and down and wave your hands you remain invisible.

I had hoped that maybe my friends would have stuck up for me. I would even have taken them doing it not publicly but privately if they were too scared to disobey or too ashamed to be my friend in front of the popular girl and her best friend- my two tormentors. Like still hanging out with me at lunch and recess. The popular girl wouldn’t know after all. But no. Even the girls i had hung with pretty much since the start of school when we’d made friends with me followed and I was suddenly cut off from everyone, completely and utterly alone….

There are some things that stand out from the next eight or so months, things beyond the pain and loneliness. Moments where the bullying was worse than the usual daily taunts. Like the time they soaked a bunch of tampons in water so they became nice and big and ran around the corner and threw them all at me. (Because I found a spot to sit and have my lunch all alone day in day out. Technically, being at the front side of the school, near the road, it was out of bounds but I didn’t care. On rainy days I got a bit wet but I didn’t care- I even thought well maybe I’ll get pneumonia and even if I don’t get lucky enough to die from it I could get some time off school, away from my living hell. Sometimes I’d eat quickly- prompting comments from the girls about how fat people like me ate too quick- and then go to the library to hide in a corner and read. Being a bookworm over those eight or so months I got through even more books that I ever imagined I could.) I was trying to eat healthy (I was on a diet which, lets face it, I have been on for most of my life!) and I often had those little tubs of two fruits in my lunch. The girls would sneak around and laugh at my lunch. I’d be tripped over, had leftover bits of food thrown at me, was called fat and ugly so many times that even now I say it about myself and actually mean it. One day after PE I discovered my watch had been stolen from the box we put all our special items in. It was a Mickey Mouse watch I got from Disneyland that played music. I was devastated. These girls that I speak of were- surprisingly- not my two tormentors, the instigator of it all, but my former friends. I think that these girls, and the few boys who sometimes hung out with them, were actually crueler to me than the popular girl and her friend. I could never understand that. I still don’t.

For almost eight months my mum battled with the school to have me moved to another form but they kept saying that the numbers were at maximum in each form. I offered at one point to take a lie detector test to prove I hadn’t written those things. I spent way too many hours in the social workers office in tears.

At one point all of a sudden one of the boys started being nice to me. I lapped up the kindness, kind of like how an abused dog will still always want their masters approval. Every kind word was like a balm on my soul. He’d come and sit with me sometimes at lunch and we would talk and laugh. It was only when someone slipped a note in my locker- I suspect the girl who returned the book- telling me that he had been given a dare by the two tormentors to get me to sleep with him. Needless to say the next time he came to see me I said to him “I know what you’re doing. I know it’s a dare and you’ve been telling them everything I said!” (Probably one of the only times in my life I stood up for myself.) He didn’t even look ashamed or guilty, he laughed and said “well I wouldn’t sleep with a fat four eyes like you for no reason. You are pretty dumb for believing it.” Perhaps the saddest thing was the fact that I contemplated not telling him I knew. Oh I wouldn’t have gone so far as to sleep with him knowing what I knew but to just continue the ruse for awhile because he provided the only conversation in school hours, the only kindness, in all the pain and loneliness. But, ultimately, I knew being alone was better than living a lie.

My persona non grata status didn’t extend to just my class. All the popular kids knew not to talk to me and to make fun of me or even spit on me if I walked past. One of them even tripped me up on the top of the stairs so I went flying down them, landing on my side so hard it was bruised and hard to breathe for ages. I never told on them. I knew that “dobbing” would just make my life worse. Though how they could have made it worse than that I will never know.

The worst moment was when I actually did attempt to kill myself. This is something I haven’t ever told a single soul. I only told mum a few months ago now that I'd wanted to kill myself (not what I actually did) and she was devastated. But I never told her at the time because I saw how much it pained her to see me so unhappy. I couldn’t burden her anymore. The night it happened was a Sunday night, the night before school started again for the new term. I was pretty naive. It was pre-Internet which, in retrospect is probably a good thing because had Google existed back then I would have found a way to do it. I took a packet and a half of Panadol. I thought surely that was enough. It wasn’t. Not only did I not die, but I simply woke up the next morning feeling like absolute shit.

The turning point came about seven months in. A chance encounter in the library with one of the girls I’d gone to primary school with and I told her about what my life was like. She was horrified and said I could come and hang with her friends sometimes. Not all the time, she said, because they wouldn’t like that but sometimes. I probably should have thought it a strange offer but needless to say at the time a little bit was better than nothing. So maybe two or three times a week at lunch mainly I would go and hang with them. I didn’t really say much. I had always been shy but my ordeal had made me even more so. When people came up behind me and stuck crap down the back of my top or yelled “boo fatty four eyes” suddenly i would jump a mile. If I saw one of my two tormentors or any of their friends I would instantly start shaking waiting for what they would do or say this time. They soon learnt they didn’t even need to speak, just look at me, and I’d be affected. So when my school friend said to me that I couldn’t really hang out with them anymore because the others thought I was stuck up (because I didn’t speak much) I didn’t feel much emotion. It seemed to me that it was perfectly right. Why WOULDN’T they reject me too? Who would even WANT to be friends with someone like me?

Finally, FINALLY, after eight months battling the school by mum they let me move classes. Not to the form I wanted to go in as by then I had made a couple of friends through my childhood male best friend who lived a few houses up and I had known since we were three and who I spent most weekends and school holidays with along with my brother and his younger sister who were in the same year, but a new one nonetheless.

It was the middle of second period, I think, that I was moved. The class were in the science block so I’m guessing it was a science class but I can’t quite remember. The year level co-ordinator took me in there and just said, “X is in this class now. She’s been given the class schedule.” Of course everyone turned to look at me curiously. I slipped into a seat in the back of the room and put my head down. At the desk next along from me were three girls. At one point they said my name and I looked up and asked “yes?” I was given a withering look. “I wasn’t talking to you. X here has the same name as you.” I was told.

The next period those three girls asked me to sit with them and asked plenty of questions. But then after lunch they told me they’d spoken to my main tormentor and knew who I was and what I did. Great, I remember thinking, I could never ever leave it behind me!

But, slowly, over the remaining few months in the year I began to make friends. There were four girls in my form who became my friends- to this day one of them remains one of my best friends- and from another form there were another two. The six of them hung around together and, as time went on, I became part of their group. There were another few girls in the form who sometimes came to hang out with us.

I was with them (both had the same name and it also coincidentally happened to be the name of my main tormentor) one day walking across the courtyard when my tormentor and her best friend (the girl who had been one of my close friends for years before this all happened and who’s friendship with me seemed to threaten my main tormentor for some reason before the table incident) suddenly appeared. Apparently someone had written something in chalk in the girls toilet near the year ten common room (or it may have been year twelve then, I can’t remember when the merger happened) about her and I was blamed. One of the girls stood up for me, pointing out there were many with her name including my two new friends. But no. It was definitely about her because it had her last initial or name. She tried to get in my face, telling me she knew it was me and I had mental problems etc but my two new friends basically stood in front of her. They were a bit tough and told her that she’d have to go through them to get to me. She chose to walk away.

Though she did get the popular girls in my class to make extra fun of me for a bit but all of a sudden it was water off a ducks back because I had my new friends. They did try and get them to abandon me, telling them what I had done but I’d already told them my side and all the pain- though I had edited it because it was too raw to tell the whole truth, in all its intricate and painful details that soon- and the attempts failed.

Soon it was summer and I spent much of it with my new friends.

In the next school year my old friends and my tormentors still would make smart comments or something when I walked past but the more I ignored it, the more I showed no reaction, the less they did it though it never totally stopped throughout my whole time at high school.

Teenagers can be cruel and girls I think the cruelest of the bunch. Sure teenage boys can be cruel too but girls are bitchy and that is much worse in my opinion. Boys might have a fight and then it’s done with. Girls will just bitch and snipe and make you miserable. My tormentors never said sorry, never acknowledged I didn’t do it. I occasionally see their names pop up as comments on mutual friends posts on Facebook and I look at their profiles and see how perfect their lives seem. Both are married, one has two kids, one has one. I wonder, when I see them, how it’s fair that they get the perfect life and I don’t. There is no sign of karma having ever gone their way for what they did to me. As for the girls who were my friends before the decree, I’m Facebook friends with a couple of them. We never really spoke again at school. But, with school far behind us and time dulling some of the bad memories and letting most people look back at their school days as the halcyon days of youth, and remember the good times not the bad, a couple of them are friends on Facebook. Only one have I ever really caught up with but another two I do talk to sometimes on there.

I do believe that, to this day, it has affected me. Just writing this is affecting me: for instance I’m feeling a bit sick, my hands are a bit shaky, and I feel like I want to have a bit of a cry. (Yes- I still have tears left despite those eight long months. The human body can be, I think, up to 65% water. I swear back then my percentage was much lower because of my nightly crying myself to sleep.) But I feel good having written this, having gotten one of my stories off my chest. Sure there are others in my life I may talk about in the future but this is one that shaped me. For instance I know I can be a bit of a needy friend, wanting to see friends more often, wondering when I haven’t heard from them in a certain amount of time if I’ve been replaced or done something to make them angry or upset. I take things way too personally, am far too sensitive about things said or done, I overthink things. And I have no self-confidence at all. I don’t see the good in me. Outside or in. When someone gives me a compliment my first reaction is to laugh at them. Especially if they say something positive about my body. I look at them and I say, “are you blind…”

[barbosaasouza]

How To Stay Alive In PUBG

We’ve all been in the early stages of a round in PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds and then took a bullet to the head. It’s frustrating, especially if you managed to secure some decent equipment after you made landfall. While some of your early deaths will always be the result of bad luck, there are active steps you can take to postpone your eventual murder at the hands of rival PUBG’ers. With a little luck in your favor, adopting some of the tips and tricks in this guide can carry you into some chicken dinner.

How To Stay Alive In PUBG

Situational Awareness

First things first, the most important factor in determining whether you live or die in a given PUBG encounter is situational awareness. Taking survey of your surroundings and making mental notes about the environment, structures, and threats you observe is the first step in improving your PUBG situational awareness. Looking around and surveying the situation begins the moment you dive out of the back of the airplane.

As you fall towards the ground, always make use of the free look camera. On PC, the Left Alt key is the default bind for this function (RB+Left Stick for Xbox One). Hold the freelook key and your your mouse (or right stick on Xbox One) to look around your character. This viewing mode works in both First Person Perspective (FPP) and Third Person Perspective (TPP) matches. The free look camera is incredibly valuable in all situations and should be abused whenever possible. When you know more than your opponent, you have an advantage. In TPP matches, the free look camera allows you to look around walls and cover. If you are not using this option, it is being used against you.

Many times, it is incredibly helpful to your chances of winning to occasionally stop moving and simply look around you. Lots of players make the decision to move from one spot to another and gain tunnel vision, only focusing on their destination. If you aren’t looking to your sides or behind you, you will not see the enemy coming. Obviously, the location that you choose to stop and look around is important. You don’t want to do it in the middle of an open field or meadow, otherwise, you stick out like a sore thumb to other players who may be watching you. Try to plan your idle glances when you are near cover or trees.

When To Engage

Once you have spotted enemy players, you don’t always have to start firing at them. When possible, take the time to think about the chances of success you will have if you do fire on that person. Is it likely that you will even hit them? If you do hit them, is it likely that you will kill them quickly? Every time to fire your weapons, the sounds (and muzzle flash) advertise information about your location (and where your attention is focused). Taking low-percentage pot shots at a distant target is unlikely to help you win a round and will often alert nearby players to your exact location. By doing this, you’ve put yourself at a serious disadvantage.

This line of thought also applies in Duos and Squad matches. Taking low-percentage shots at an enemy team can be incredibly unhelpful to your cause if your own teammate(s) are not in position to engage the targets safely. Another consideration for Duos and Squad matches is to not immediately fire on a freshly spotted target. If you see one player, chances are, his teammate(s) are not far behind. Before engaging another team, it is to your advantage to know where all members of said team are located prior to engaging. You don’t get any closer to winning if you murder a single member of a team, attempt to loot the body, and then get immediately killed by one of their nearby teammates.

Another thing to pay attention to in team modes are downed enemies. If you attack an enemy and they drop to their knees, but you are not immediately awarded a kill, that player still has teammates alive somewhere. It is always a good idea to keep a count of the enemy players that you or your team downs during an encounter. In Squad matches, you should always assume that any person you engage with is part of a full, 4-person team. Looting dead bodies should not be considered “safe” until you know that all four members are dead. While fighting a squad, if the player that you or a teammate shoots dies instantly without dropping to their knees, you can be sure that the entire team has been eliminated.

Urban Encounters

In each of PUBG’s current maps, there are sparse areas with little cover and there are towns full of structures. In the case of Miramar, some of these towns are quite large and full of buildings. Surviving encounters in the more densely-packed areas requires that you pay attention to visual clues, rather than simply looking at where you heard gunfire and aiming down your sights. There is much more that you need to process when observing your surroundings in urban areas.

Because of the abundance of cover, enemy players can be just about anywhere. Take note when you enter these towns to see if there are open doors and broken windows. Usually, structures with these have previously been occupied and/or looted by other players. When conditions force you into these areas, don’t forget to use the audible clues provided to you by the game. Any time you hear broken glass, you can assume that someone near you has jumped through a window. If you believe there are enemies near you, stop and listen for footsteps. When running, player footsteps can be audible as far as 40 meters away.

When you need to move around in these town environments, always make sure that you aren’t an easy target. Never run up and down the middle of roads. If you need to cross a road, do it quickly. Always try to move from cover to cover. Danger can come from 360 degrees around you. If a stone wall or building covers 180 of those degrees, you only need to focus on the other side to which you are exposed. In team situations where you are being fired on, attempt to have a teammate fire on the enemy’s position while you or other teammates move to new cover. This lowers the chances that the enemy engaging you can easily land killing shots. When possible, try and return the favor for the teammate that gave you cover.

What To Grab When You Drop Hot

Sometimes, you will find yourself in a rough situation as you come off the back of the airplane. You had big plans about how you were going to drop into a specific spot and loot, only to find that 16 other players had that same idea. These kinds of situations are what my friends and I call “hot drops”. Hot drops can often be a coin flip between life and death, but how you carry yourself in the first few seconds after you hit the ground can tilt the coin in your favor.

The first thing you need to do is decide to get the hell out of Dodge or stay and fight. If you choose to fight, get into a structure as soon as possible and search for a firearm. Any gun is useful, but on the occasions where you have a choice, some are more helpful than others. On most hot drops, you will come across pistols first. Always take the P92 or M1911 over the R1895 and R45, simply because the revolvers take so much longer to load. During the early encounters, the person who shoots first is often the victor. You don’t want to be caught trying load rounds when an enemy comes in your house.

With primary firearms, look for shotguns and the Micro Uzi. Most hot drop encounters occur at very close range, tipping the balance in favor of the S686, S1897, and S12K. If you do go with the Micro Uzi, be sure to set it to the auto firing mode as soon as possible. Also remember that changing firing modes, opening doors, or picking up items will interrupt a weapon reload. Get you rounds into your gun as fast as humanly possible. If you have the time to spare, throw attachments onto your early round weapons. Once they were in your inventory, you only need to right-click on an attachment and the game will automatically affix it to the gun. This works much faster than dragging the attachment onto the gun. For a detailed overview of attachments for all weapons, refer to our PUBG weapon attachment guides: Sights, Magazines, and Muzzles.

The Circle And You

The shrinking circles of PUBG are a source of excitement and frustration. As they randomly constrict themselves across the map, the circles can quickly turn your can’t-miss plan into garbage. The players in PUBG who survive longest and earn those chicken dinners make the shrinking circles work for them. Your view of the white and blue circles on the big map or minimap gives you incredibly valuable information about where to go and where other players will be in the near future.

The first thing to know about the circles how quickly they can damage you (or other players) and how quickly they will move. In the early parts of a PUBG round, being outside the blue circle does a very small amount of damage to players. It will lightly chip away at your health bar when you find yourself behind it as it contracts. Once the blue circle reaches the edge of the white circle, the new, smaller white circle will show up on the map. At this time, the chip damage that you will receive while behind the blue circle wall increases. It is imperative that you don’t find yourself hundreds of meters out of the circle when this occurs.

Always Stay Geeked Up On Red Bulls

You can mitigate the damage you take from the circle by ingesting stimulants like Energy Drink and Painkillers. While it takes longer to ingest Painkillers, they provide a bigger buff to your stimulant bar (located under your health bar). The closer to full your stimulant bar is, the faster you can regain health and the faster you move. You will need to slam 3 Energy Drinks back to back to fill the bar, or one Painkiller and one Energy Drink. You can also use Bandages and First Aid Kits while taking circle damage. If you have enough of them, it is possible to survive outside of the circle for extended periods.

Because of this, you should always pick up First Aid Kits, Energy Drink, and Painkillers when you see them. When looting a dead body, it is always a good practice to grab any stimulants or healing items to keep yourself topped off. Using stimulants during regular encounters is also a great way to keep yourself alive. If conditions are forcing you to make a move to a new location and you know that this movement will put you in serious danger of being fired on, it is always advised to top yourself off with Painkillers and Energy Drinks. The gradual healing may be the difference between you living and dying. The slight movement boost can make you harder to hit or keep you just ahead of a shrinking circle. If you find yourself in the closing moments of a tense match, always remember to get stimmed up. If two players are similarly equipped and fir on each other at the same time, the player who is stimmed up is more likely to survive the encounter, assuming both players hit each other similarly.

Embrace Your Inner Edgelord

You can use the blue circle’s positioning to move yourself around the battleground and increase your chances of survival. Many players like to play the edge of the circle, as it allows you to keep focus on the area inside, rather than having to worry in every direction. Take note of the blue circle’s positioning before the timer reaches zero. The edges of the blue circle farthest away from the white circle will shrink faster than the edges close to the white circle. You can use this to your advantage when moving with the circle.

If you have some spare time before the circle contracts, look at the map a check for spots inside the white circle where you would prefer to be by the time the blue circle closes in. If you are constantly running from the blue circle to stay alive, it decreases the chances that you will be able to remain calm during an enemy engagement. When the circle closes in on you, things can get hectic and you may find yourself doing stupid things that you would not do without the external pressure from the blue circle.

Once you find yourself comfortable with how to move within the circles, use the information about upcoming shrinks to make educated guesses about where enemy players will position themselves after the shrink. Are there structures or defilades within the white circle that would give a tactical advantage if you were near them? Some players will hide in cover near the edges of the blue wall in the later stages of a round. If you think a player or players may be in that cover, make a guess as to where that group would move to once the circle begins the next shrink. If you were in their position? What spot would you prefer to move to? You can position yourself to exploit the opportunity presented by their movement and open fire on them. Successfully working the edges of the blue circle can put you at an advantage over players who choose to focus on the center of the white circle and hide until the circle forces action.

Good Luck Out There

While these tips and suggestion are no guarantee that you will survive or wins any rounds of PUBG, making situation awareness a priority and picking up habits that put the advantage in your favor will start to work for you over time. There are 30 million people currently playing PUBG right now. No matter what, there is always some hot shot kid who is better at aiming that you and can afford to play 16 hours a day. Paying closer attention and putting yourself in good situations can help tip the scales in your favor.

I also understand that reading sucks and no one wants to constantly refer to crazy text guides like this when working to improve their PUBG game. I strongly suggest watching some of the top Twitch or Youtube streamers of PUBG. While most of their viewers and chatters will be focused on the crazy headshots and comedy moments, you should pay attention to their observational habits. Pay attention to how they move their character during engagements. Notice the fights they take and they fights they avoid. Make notes about how they spotted enemy players and what they did once gaining that information. One of the best channels I’ve found for watching clean PUBG play without a focus on screaming, talking to subs, or nonsense is Aculite. His Youtube videos on PUBG contain a world of information on how to carry yourself while playing.

In the meantime, keep dropping hot and never give up!

How To Stay Alive In PUBG published first on https://superworldrom.tumblr.com/