#while having to explain an obscure tabletop game

[sabraeal]

If the Mind Is Willing, Chapter 3

[Read on AO3]

Part three of 500 Follower prizes @bubblesthemonsterartist​ earned herself years ago! Only two more and I will have fulfilled all those fics...probably just in time to have a 1K follower raffle

Blue light washes her pink sheets pale, until it’s impossible to tell when cotton ends and her skin begins. The shadows pull longer in its glow, turning her own nearly skeletal as she reaches out a finger, hovering over the link.

“U-J-Kyo?” Chizuru’s mouth wraps around each letter, the sound of them tumbling softly into the muted glow. “But that’s just...?”

The university’s homepage. And her laptop’s, technically, now that Yamazaki helped her set it. Not something she’d normally associate with Souji’s interests, not unless he’s started some new hostilities with the provost’s office again. Their last open letter hung on the fridge until just before Thanksgiving, the second paragraph asking for “certain individuals in the student body“ to “show more conduct becoming of an undergraduate of a prestigious institution” highlighted proudly in lime green.

Dean Kondo dropped by the house only a few days later-- for a friendly visit, he’d said, smile as warm as she remembered. He’d stayed for dinner, complimenting the soup she’d made from their leftovers, and then talked with Souji out on the porch until the swing’s chains started to creak. The letter disappeared the next morning, unremarked, though Souji kept glowering at the bare metal every time he passed through the kitchen.

Chizuru swipes tentatively at the screen, messaging app blooming beneath her finger. The link’s innocuous, known, but Souji has a gift for slipping a sting into any handshake. And if he’s calling it a gift, well--

[ToudouDomination] omg holy shit dude nice knowing u hijikatas gonna kill u 4 sure 💀💀

Professor Hijikata’s taught her enough about Trojans to take that kind of present at face value.

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] *skullfuck u mean skullfuck ull b the most beautiful corpse at ur funeral bro

Her lips press tight, clinging to each other as close as the rubber case to her phone. If everyone’s acting like this about it, it’s better that she doesn’t look.

[ToudouDomination] MY funeral???!! what’s this got to do with me??!!

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] nah man im not talking ab YOU im talking ab dead man walking over here

She’d regret it if she did, probably.

[Dr 💖💋🤭] jfc I’ll say somethign nice at you’re disciplinery hearing

[ToudouDomination] Me??

[Dr 💖💋🤭] No one’s talking about you Heisuke

It’s an accident, really. Her thumb skims up the side of the screen-- scrolling past the sudden influx of skull and fire emojis the boys heave into the chat-- and the pad of it just barely brushes the link. It flashes under the pressure, blue then purple, selected, and well...

There’s no harm in just letting it happen, is there? It’s only the university homepage, nothing--

Ah. That’s what it should be at least. But instead of the azure and white, there’s text curling across the screen, a half dozen different hand-written poems in blue bic and college rule, tiled across every inch of the background. There’s coffee stains on them too, some in the corner, and some in rings, like they were more used to being coasters than literature. And in the center of it all--

“Oh.” She blinks, tilting her screen to get a better view. “A video?”

Hogyoku Open Mic, it reads at one corner, reflection on water. A strange choice for Souji; he’s never mentioned an interest in poetry, let alone live readings. Frowning, Chizuru tilts her phone, letting the video fill the screen.

It plays, and oh, several things become clear, all at once.

“My heart is pure,” the man on screen promises, words raking over the gravel of his voice-- how little of it there is marks his age more than the lack of lines on his face-- but Chizuru’s isn’t, not when she can’t do much more than stare, fingers numb around the rubber case. “I use my palm as an inkstone.”

The camera pans closer, and yes, above that black dress shirt-- open to its third button, oh goodness gracious-- is Hijikata. Not the one she knows now, the grizzled professor who kicks his feet up on the desk and uses profanity as punctuation, but--

But a much younger man, not much older than her, considering the last little bastions of baby fat clinging to his cheekbones.

[Dr 💖💋🤭] This muts be a hundred pakcs of cigs ago

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] 💯

[ToudouDomination] do moths feel desire or is that like a poetic thing he talks about rain a lot too whats that all ab

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] its a sex thing

[Dr 💖💋🤭] Shin don’t tell the baby taht

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] hes a growing boy he has to learn sometime better he hears it from us hijikata fucks 🍑🍆🍑

[Saito.Hajime] Can I please be removed from this group? Also, congratulations, Souji, on finding a new, creative way to die

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] no way if we all have to think think about hijikata fucking u have to suffer too

[Saito.Hajime] I am not certain I care for that logic

[Dr 💖💋🤭] Too bad, bud. Your stukc with us

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] yeah bro u signed the housing contract ur here til death comes for u or like u move out or smthn

Chizuru means to stop the video, really she does. It’s not something Hijikata would want them to see-- at least, she assumes so, considering the way he flushes every time Souji brings up his graduate school slam jams, threatening to expel him if he doesn’t ‘shut his damn mouth.’

But the one on the screen smiles as he finishes his set, smouldering out past the stage lights, and she-- she expects snapping, some cool cats with shades and berets nodding their heads to his truth or whatever mood this is supposed to give. A respectful silence, one that gives space to the idea he’s introduced to the space, but instead--

Instead there’s screams. A full audience of women-- and a few particularly enthusiastic men-- loudly voicing their appreciation for what she’s hoping is the poetry.

Ah, maybe Shinpachi is right. It is a sex thing. And she’s watched a full ten minutes of it.

Hijikata can never know. Or worse--

[Susumu Yamazaki] Take this down. Now.

[( ⓛ ω ⓛ *)] eat my ass

Her heart ricochets around her rib cage, panicked, before it lodges itself in her throat. It flutters there, queasily, and-- and there’s no way he could possibly know, but still, guilt seizes her. She shouldn’t have looked, not once she knew. She should have been the first to say it was wrong. Helpers can only help when they know there is a problem, that’s what Father would have said. If you cannot perceive it then you are part of it.

She could say something now. Her hand squeezes tight around the case. No, she should say something now. She has to, because father will ask. She’ll tell him about this frantic midnight showdown, and he’ll say, and what did you say?

And if it is nothing...

[Susumu Yamazaki] Take it down now. Or I will get university IT involved.

[( ⓛ ω ⓛ *)] you don’t have the fucking balls

[Susumu Yamazaki] Try me.

Even with her eyes closed, her failure is inescapable. The words flash behind her eyelids, no longer composed of ones and zeros but scrawled in neon lights instead, reminding her that if she were better she could have fixed this. That if she were good enough, she could have found the magic phrase to get them all to get along. But instead...

Silence, that’s what he’ll give her. A long pause where all his expectations weigh on her, piling on her chest like boulders on a criminal. A cluck of his tongue, and a soft, I thought I raised you better. Any moment now, her phone will ring, and Father will know what a disappointment she is because--

It’s Christmas. Just about everywhere but Hawaii. A couple other islands in the Pacific too, if she’s being fair. It’s Christmas, and he’s supposed to call because that’s the way it’s always been: her staying up late not to catch Santa and his Reindeer but Father emerging from his office. It’s her that would tromp down the hall with all the grace of an elephant, to fling her arms around him and yelp, Merry Christmas!

And it was him who had to be stern, who must put her back down on the carpet and scold her for being out of bed. Who has to wait until she’s nearly shut her door to stop her, to call out, Merry Christmas, Chizuru.

It’s supposed to be her first. The one given moments after midnight, the most real, and-- and--

And she’s spent the whole day waiting for an empty office.

There’s a part of her, one that’s still too short to reach the microwave and can’t bear the kindness next door, that thinks she missed it. That there’s some dead zone in the house that she unwittingly lingered in, or a notification that her phone somehow swallowed whole. That it’s her fault she never presented herself to be loved.

But there’s another part, one that’s growing every day, and that one--

That one’s just tired. 

It’s tired that wins out, in the end.

There’s a weight that drags at her, urging her to stay within the cocoon of her covers, to let the night unfurl across her screen, each blow reported in black and white right before her eyes. A passive observer, an active disappointment, but most importantly: unmoving.

Even still, she gets up, throwing the cloud of her comforter back so that she can slide out from underneath it. Her heels hit the floor with a force that chatters her teeth; or maybe that’s just the chill of the air now that her body heat is no longer trapped up against her skin.

Her phone settles on the nightstand, cozening up to the lamp, and for a long moment, she thinks about turning it on. Every muscle complains as she peels her day clothes off and exchanges them for pajamas, her eyes straining to make out what’s a hole and what’s just dead air, and yet--

Yet it’s easier than facing herself.

The same weight drops her back onto the mattress, an anchor sinking into the endless depths of open water. She isn’t sure when she’ll hit bottom, but staring at the blank screen beside her feels entirely too close to it.

It’s with a trembling finger that she guides the volume from full to vibrate. Even that makes her heart race, makes her wonder if she’s just punishing Father for having priorities besides a fully adult daughter, the same one who had so happily told him she would support his sabbatical wherever it took him. What if he needs to get a hold of her? If there’s an emergency on Borneo or San Cistobal or whatever island his research took him? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just keep it on a little, just in case--

Her fingers flex. She deserves to sleep tonight, what little of it there is left. And if this is on...

Vibrate changes to mute. The phone flips over, screen pressed against the wood.

“Good night, Daddy.” She gives the case one last, small tap. “Merry Christmas.”

“Hey, jailbait.” Something warm nudges her shoulder, not gently. Chizuru has the space of exactly one breath to wonder what, before the same something grips both and shakes. “Get up!”

“Haah?” Her hands flail out, but whatever’s gotten hold of her slithers out of her grip, retreating past her arm’s reach. “What...?”

It’s bright when her eyes peel open, the sun already seeping through the curtain even though it can’t be more than--

“Class!” Her limbs fly out, wild as she tries to turn over, tangled up in the tight embrace of her covers. “I’m late for--”

“Hold up a slice, shortcake.” Souji looms over her, tall enough that his knees barely brush the bed to do it. “No classes today.”

“No...?” It’s not as if she has anything to say, brain moving at a snail’s pace that it is, but her mouth keeps moving anyway, as if just working her jaw might help get the gears moving. Which it does, oddly enough, reminding her it’s not a weekend but a holiday, and not just any holiday but Christmas, and--

And Father never called. Unless it came in the night, after she’d put herself to bed. After she’d not only turned off the ringtone but vibrate too, leaving him no chance to hear her voice, forcing any attempts for him to contact her straight to voicemail, like she didn’t even care--

“Hey.” Souji knees the mattress, jolting her outstretched elbow right into the corner of the nightstand. “Get up already.”

Painful tingles race up her arm, bouncing from elbow to shoulder and back and, oh, why is it called the funny bone when it’s not funny at all? “Souji, why are you--?”

A bleary blink turns the blurred numbers on her clock to something like sense.

“Oh!” She bolts upright on the mattress, sending Souji skittering back a step. No wonder he’s deigned to scratch at her door; Harada might be the oldest, but of the three of them, Chizuru’s the only one that can be trusted with the stove. “It’s late! Are you hungry?”

“No.” This close, it’s easy to see that furrow flash between his brows, the quick reassessment of his opinion. “Well, yeah. But that’s not what I want right now.”

This early, her brain’s as bleary as her vision, but it won’t clear no matter how much she blinks. “Then what...?”

He heaves a sigh; her only warning before long fingers clamp around her wrist, cold as iron. “Just come with me already.”

It’s a feat to get untangled from her blankets; there’s a knit one sandwiched between the top sheet and the comforter, plus another for more weight-- and heat, since she shares her thermostat with Shinpachi and Harada, whose bodies both run at a temperature verging on medically alarming if they think sixty-five degrees is comfortable. It’s harder still with Souji yanking at her the whole time; she’s not certain whether he does it because he’s impatient or because her struggling amuses him. Possibly both, knowing Souji.

Impatience, however, wins out. One foot wins free, planting itself on the bedside braided rug, and he snaps, “Hurry up. We don’t have all day.”

She’d love to, if only the comforter hadn’t swallowed her up to the ankle, cinching tight when she tries to pry it apart. “Ah, I know! Just give me one--”

Unless she’d meant to say second-- which she hadn’t, not at all-- Souji doesn’t give it to her. Instead he tugs, and she stumbles off the mattress, dragging half the blankets with her. “Good,” he huffs, barely glancing back. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Souji has a terrible habit of making things worse the longer he’s made to wait, but she digs in her heels anyway. Or, well, the one that isn’t still trapped in Poly-Fil. “Can I at least put on my robe?”

“Why? It’s not like there’s anyone to see your cute little Christmas--” he squints “--raccoons?”

“Tanuki.” She smooths her hand over the fabric, one of their round faces peeking playfully out from between her fingers. “They’re just so fluffy.”

Souji stares at her, stone-faced and silent, and-- and it’s longer than that his teasing typically takes. “Right,” he says, stilted. “Whatever. Just hurry it up, Sleeping Beauty.”

Chizuru is keenly conscious of every second Souji suffers her, all-too aware of how impossible it is to win a race against the limits of his patience, but she’s determined to make the most of what she’s given. It’s hopeless to aspire to Hajime’s cool efficiency, but she tries, keeping her movements sharp and purposeful, as if putting on her robe required the same sweeping grace as his kata, and yet--

Yet she barely cinches the knot tight before he’s grabbed her again. “C’mon, princess. We’ve got things to do.”

It’s a struggle just to keep her feet beneath her, but she manages a very eloquent. “Huh?”

His mouth quirks, too pleased, as he tugs and she stumbles, bare feet barely braced against the jamb. “People to piss off.”

Ah, well that’s hardly promising.

When all is said and done, he doesn’t drag her far. A cold comfort, considering.

“This is Hajime’s room,” she informs him. His grin assures her he already knows. “And, Ya-- ah, I mean, Su-- uh, um. S-susu...?”

The name’s foreign in her mouth, tongue stumbling and stuttering around it, and it’s-- it’s just odd not to use it, when she’s so used to Souji and Hajime and Heisuke and Shinpachi and even Sano, if it feels safe to say, instead of intimate. As if she’s letting all the rest of them close while keeping him at arm’s length.

Which isn’t true. But still, she can’t bring herself to say Yamazaki’s first name so casually, not when even Heisuke, who barely lasted three hours before asking if she was cool with nicknames, hasn’t managed it. With the syllables rolling around in her mouth, it’s almost...

Illicit. That’s it. “Is there a reason you need me here?”

Souji’s mouth curls, so satisfied she’s surprised she can’t see feathers between his teeth. “Yes, definitely.”

“But they went home for the holidays.” She frowns. “Did you need something in there? I’m pretty sure it’s--”

His leg kicks back, and with one smooth swing, he completely bypasses the need for a doorknob, the open door shivering from the force.

“-- locked,” she finishes faintly. “Oh my.”

One hand catches the door, long fingers splayed across the grain. “After you, jailbait.”

She nearly balks-- it’s not as if it’s his room; he hardly has the right to invite her-- but the door swings open, and she--

She’s never seen this before. Yamazaki’s room. Or Hajime’s, of course. A tour down the hallway would be enough to get a glimpse into any of the other rooms; Heisuke hadn’t even waited a day to drag her into his, pointing out all his favorite posters. Harada and Shinpachi took a few weeks longer, though she’d spent most of that visit with her hands clapped over her eyes. Even Souji tolerated her shuffling a step over the threshold, even if it was only to ask for him to help her reach one of the taller cabinets. But Yamazaki and Hajime...

Their door has always been carefully shut, not even the slightest gap for a peek. An easy habit to explain away; the both of them value privacy over accessibility, choosing to socialize in the common areas of the house rather than in their room, but still--

It’s almost surprising how normal it is. Not that Chizuru expected it to be wallpapered floor to ceiling with centerfolds, like Harada and Shinpachi’s room, or crowded with collectibles like Heisuke’s, but maybe white walls and stark sheets, monochrome and neat as a pin. The sort of room that would seem unoccupied, if it wasn’t for the monitors on the desks. Sterile.

Instead there’s posters. Not crowding the walls, so close that the corners overlap, but there’s personality, if not chaos. Enough to know that the boy who sleeps under the navy comforter likes movies with kimonos and swords or computers from the 80s, and that charcoal comforter likes wuxia and vintage medical diagrams. And books too, if the stack teetering on his bedside table is any indication.

Chizuru shuffles a step further into the room. It would be rude to rummage, but surely-- surely it wouldn’t hurt if she just read the titles. If she just stooped down the tiniest bit and--

And tripped over Souji, shoulder-deep beneath Yamazaki’s mattress. “W-what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he grunts, annoyed. “A guy that uptight’s got to be hiding something. And not just the normal stuff. The kind of something that’s gotta be top shelf fucked up.”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Oh come on, you know what I mean. Whips and chains.” He drags his arm out with a huff. “Autoerotic asphyxiation. Snuff tapes.” Souji reaches up, flipping over his pillows. “Yiffing. Who could say what a small-dicked little turd like him is into?”

Half those words are unrecognizable, and so it’s not until he’s on his feet, poking through desk drawers that Chizuru realizes, “You mean you’re looking for...for...” Her mouth works, cheeks painfully hot as she manages, “Girlie magazines?”

His fingers still, pressed into a sheaf of glossy page edges. “I’m trying to find porn, Chizuru. That’s what we call it this century.”

The book shuts with a snap, joining its friends on the shelf, and when he reaches for another, she blurts out, “Don’t people just watch that online now?”

Souji laughs, not kind, but abandons the bookshelf. “And everyone thinks you’re so innocent, huh, princess?”

Her hands clap to her cheeks. Ah, she hadn’t realized it could be painful to blush. “I, um...only, ah--” Souji flings open the closet “--I don’t think you should really be--!”

“Jackpot.” The hangers rattle as he slips something off the rack; with only the sunlight eking in around the blinds to light the room, it’s hard to see just what. “What do you think? Would it look good on me?”

The fabric’s black, limp and shapeless on its hanger, utterly unrecognizable. “I don’t...?”

“Nah, no way I could fit into that shrimp’s costumes.” The light might be dim, but Souji’s teeth practically glow when he says, “But you could, half pint. C’mon, get over here.”

She doesn’t have much of a choice, not when he grabs her wrist and yanks. “I don’t understand,” she murmurs, watching him separate a smaller piece from the whole, more uncomfortable by the second. “Why did you need me when you were only going to..um...?”

Steal seems a little strong for the moment. Scrounge falls a little short.

“Ahhh, see, kid, last night I left a little gift for the whole student body. Right on the main page, where everyone could appreciate it.” He steps entirely too close, the warmth of his body filling the space between them. “And our favorite little ass-kisser didn’t appreciate it.”

The scrap slips over her head, cool and smooth where it settles around her neck. “So he took it down. Or got some of his nerd friends to do it. Either way...” Souji shrugs. “It’s rude to give back a gift, isn’t it?”

His wrist twists, the cloth pulling tight against her skin. Tight enough that only a twitch guides her into a nod. “See? That’s what I thought too. Kid needs to learn a thing or two about manners. So that’s what I’m doing.” Souji grins, the fabric loosening as he lets it slip from his fingers. “Teaching him a lesson.”

“B-but...” Her focus stumbles as he steps closer, threading his hand beneath the few inches of her hair that don’t clear the fabric and pulling them free. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“It’s cute that you don’t know.” His smile could cut when he slips the cloth right up over her nose. “This is a hostage situation, jailbait, and you’re going to read from the script. Now look over here.”

She does, blinking right up into the blinding light of flash photography as his arm squeezes her close. “What...?”

“Perfect.” Souji’s lips slant to a smirk, phone pinched delicately between his fingers. “Now I just need to post this in--”

The lights flick on. Neither of them are near the switch.

But Hajime is.

“Just what,” he says, brows drawn down like a storm, “do you think you’re doing in here?”

There have only been three house meetings since Chizuru showed up on their doorstep, hair shorn and all her earthly possessions split between a backpack and a trash bag: the first, called by the professor, to announce that that there would be a new roommate; the second, to decide how exactly to handle the fact that Chizuru wasn’t a boy’s name, nor was she; and the third, well...

I’m not complaining that you invite girls back, Sano, Shinpachi had said, with all the gravitas of a judge, but you can’t let them wander around. She went through our trash, dude!

But this-- it’s different. Not just because of the Christmas lights, festively twinkling through their cycle, or Shinpachi’s sweater blinking through its own.

It’s that they’re all here, Christmas afternoon-- evening really, with how early the sun sets these days-- holidays cut short. Chizuru might not have anyone to spent Christmas with, but Shinpachi did, and Heisuke, and Yamazaki--

And instead they’re all here. Because of her. Not a single one of them is smiling.

It’s too much.

“I’m so sorry!” The words burst out of her, rushed, but it’s important to get them out before anyone else can speak, before they think she’s only sorry because she got caught. “I really didn’t mean to go in! I just...Souji said...”

“Narc.” It’s muffled in his shoulder, just loud enough for her to hear. And maybe others, the way Yamazaki’s brow twitches across the table.

“Chizu, Chizu. Come on.” Shinpachi holds up his hands, as if a half-hearted sweep like that could clear the slate of her worries.. “No one here thinks this is your fault.”

It’s kind of him to say, but that’s...impossible. Not when she’s so clearly transgressed. “I went into Y-Yamazaki and Hajime’s room without permission. That’s against the--”

“No, Yukimura, that’s not--” Yamazaki’s teeth clack down, hard.  “I don’t mind if it’s you. Ah, I mean--” his ears flush the same angry pink that licks up the column of his neck “--it’s, er, different.”

“You are respectful of other people’s personal belongings,” Hajime clarifies. “There is no issue with you in our private space. Souji, however...”

“Oh, come on.” Souji kicks his feet up on the coffee table, baring every hole in the bottom of them. “It’s not like I broke anything.”

Yamazaki’s eyes hone onto him-- or rather, the parts of him only inches from Harada’s iced mocha, so close a flex of a toe could touch the coaster. “Right, you only stole something. Not like that’s a big deal.”

“Stole? Like I want--” with a sweep of his palm, Yamazaki clears the surface of appendages, so precise it doesn’t even disrupt the condensation on the cup “--hey!”

He doesn’t smile, but when Yamazaki glances up at the couch, his satisfaction shines just as bright as one.

“Souji.”

Hajime is not like Shinpachi, using his outdoor voice in every room no matter how small, or Heisuke, unable to control his volume once a conversation gets interesting. He’s soft spoken, serious; the sort of person other people lean in to hear, rather than ask him to speak up.

But today, he pitches his voice to be heard. “You cannot enter someone’s assigned private room without express permission.” With even graver inflection, he adds “It is against the rules put forth in the Signed Housing Agreement.”

Souji snorts, sinking further into the couch cushions. “No one pays attention to that crap.”

Air hisses between Yamazaki’s teeth. “That’s--”

“If I am not allowed to leave the group chat unless a member of the house boots me for a pre-agreed upon duration,” Hajime says, mouth pulling thin, “then you are also not allowed in my room.”

His glare is hardly aimed at her, but it comes close enough that she flinches. Souji doesn’t, refusing to acknowledge it that same way a cat declined to be caught on a curtain, as if reality was simply an opinion he did or did not hold. “I didn’t even touch your stuff. I don’t know why you’re trying to--”

“You did touch Yamazaki’s stuff, though.” Harada shifts in his chair, the vee of his sweater dipping deep enough to bare cleavage. It might be distracting, if it wasn’t already a relief that he was wearing all his clothes. “Which is against the rules.”

“Yeah, that’s fucked up, right?” Shinpachi cracks open a tall boy, cold enough that the beer fizzes out, threatening to drip right across the festive moose on his chest; HORNY AND WELL HUNG according to the words knit into his sweater. “There’s no locks on the doors, man. We’ve all got to trust each other.”

Chizuru blinks. “But I have a lock.”

He pauses, mid-sip. “Well, I guess that makes sense. You’re a girl, after all. Can’t have a girl be alone with a bunch of guys if there no--”

“My room also has a lock.” Hajime frowns, considering the socks Souji’s just returned to the table. “Hardly a good one, if Souji was able to bypass it with just his foot, but...”

“Me too,” Heisuke chimes in. “I just don’t really use it.”

“Wait, what?” Shinpachi swivels between them, lost. “Are me and Sano the only ones who don’t--?”

“I think the best course of action is to inform Professor Hijikata about the infraction.” Kneeling on the carpet next to Shinpachi’s luggage, Yamazaki’s hardly an authority figure, but when he raises his voice the room fritters to silence. “I’m sure he can take it from there.”

Harada hums, unconvinced. “I don’t know about that. Souji’s already got two strikes against him. If we report another one, I’m pretty sure Hijikata’s going to toss him out.”

They might be more suggestions than eyebrows, but still, it makes an impression when Yamazaki furrows them.  “I don’t see why that’s any of my concern.”

“Aw, c’mon, Yamazaki.” They all might tease her about her pleading eyes, but it’s Heisuke that uses them now, as compelling as any puppy in a pet store window. “You know Souji doesn’t have anywhere else to go. You wouldn’t throw him out in the cold just like that, would you?”

His mouth pinches, bracing the way the rest of him is, squared off and utterly implacable. “Souji is a grown man who can make his own decisions. If those decisions lead to him getting tossed out, that hardly has anything to do with me.”

Souji snorts. “None of the people who complained are even here anymore.”

Yamazaki whips around, eyes so cold they could turn any other man to ice. Souji just smirks. “Yes, because of you.”

“Well, I don’t know...” Heisuke hums, thoughtful. “Ryu left because of that art program. You know, the one that had the scholarship.”

“Only after Okita shoved him off--!”

“Oh, c’mon.” Souji’s shoulder twitch, barely summoning up the energy for a full shrug. “That’s all water under the bridge.”

Yamazaki surges to his feet; only Harada’s hand, keeping him from jumping the table too. “You broke his wrist in three places! The only reason he didn’t press charges was because his foster father is somehow an even bigger asshole than you!”

Souji picks his grins the same way a chef picks his knives from the block: with the intention to cut. “No hard feelings.”

“Hard feelings?” Yamazaki chokes out. “You think this is about hard feelings? When Itou left, he--”

“Itou was a prick.”

Hajime doesn’t so much sigh as hum, raspy and dubious. “That doesn’t mean that what you did was right, Souji.”

His eyes narrow, annoyed. “Don’t pretend you miss him running around the place, acting better than everyone.”

“No, no. He’s got a point.” The easy chair grunts as Shinpachi shifts his weight back, crossing his legs ankle to knee. “They both do. You know I don’t want to kick you out, man, but you’ve got a bad habit of taking stuff way past funny right into, well...”

“An actionable offense?” Harada offers, wry.

A blunt nail taps at his can, uncomfortable. “Yeah, that. It’s not good, bro.”

Something happens with Souji’s mouth. A lot of somethings, actually; subtle ones, hidden in the corners and tucked into the cheeks, the sort that happen between one blink and the next. Missable, save for the fact that Chizuru never looks away.

There’s a jut of his lip first, not a pout but its more serious cousin, the kind that’s like a levee to a deluge: one tremble away from a flood. A scowl next, never quite reaching his eyes; good practice for the smile that follows, curving into a smirk the way steel takes an edge: like it’s meant for it.

“All right, all right.” His hands raise up, too lax for a peace offering. It might stand in for a concession, if she tilted her head and squinted, but only a little. “So you’re all mad at me or whatever.”

“For good reason.” It’s a strong stance for Harada; he’s usually the one who’s quick to compromise, so long as it keeps everyone civil.

“Sure, right.” Souji shrugs, unconcerned. “I get it. But consider--” fabric whips out from behind a pillow, matte and black-- “this.”

Chizuru blinks. “Wasn’t that in...?”

Yamazaki’s closet, she doesn’t say. Not when he shakes it out, turning it from cloth to clothing, a whole jumpsuit with fussy embroidery picked out in an even darker black.

“What’s that?” Shinpachi scoots to the edge of his chair, squinting. He must not have his contacts in. “Some sort of ninja costume?”

She knows better than to turn, to draw attention to the statue suddenly sitting across the table, but Chizuru can’t help it, not when Souji is so quick to say, “It is.” There’s enough relish in his tone that she can taste it. “And it’s Yamazaki’s.”

There’s a pause-- for effect, she’s sure, considering the way Souji grins. Like he’s pulled off some magic trick, making his troubles disappear in one hand and then plucking them out from behind Yamazaki’s ear.

“So?” Harada snorts, unimpressed. “Are you surprised? He’s been a ninja for Halloween like, what? Three years running? Since I’ve been here at least. What next? Gonna pull a sexy firefighter out of Shin’s closet?”

“Hey!” A hand presses right over WELL, leaving HORNY and HUNG peeking out from underneath it. “I’ve branched out! This year I was a sexy soldier.”

“How can you tell?” Heisuke mutters, hunched shoulders making his chest even narrower, more concave. “You’re only wearing like half a costume.”

“We’re not talking about Nagakura.” With all the subtlety of a bomb, Souji drops, “We’re talking about Mr Kiss-Ass and how he has like, five of these tucked away for a rainy day.”

It’s been three months since Chizuru managed to insinuate herself into the house, but not once has it been quiet. Even in the night there’s something: Shinpachi snoring, Harada’s flings trying to find the front door, Heisuke up entirely too late typing up papers or-- more likely-- playing video games. Something. But now--

Now it’s a ringing silence that’s left in Souji’s wake, an awkward air that has every shoulder stiff, every eye finding somewhere else to look besides the place where Yamazaki sits, still as a stone.

Or at least, until Hajime slides forward, dexterous fingers smoothing over the raised stitches of the sleeve. “Oh,” he hums, impressed. “Your skills have really improved since your last attempt. I take it this is for next weekend?”

“Ah...” He swallows, loud enough that even Chizuru can hear. “Y-yeah. The new kunai were too heavy for the belt, so I thought if I remade that, I might as well add a few more quality of life adjustments, and, er...”

“Oh my god,” Heisuke breathes, quivering like a corgi at the end of his leash. “Are you a real ninja?”

A broad hand cuffs him on the back of his head. “C’mon,” Harada mutters. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

If Yamazaki’s ears were painted pink before, they’re crimson now, hot enough to burn from touch alone. The square of his shoulders deflates, rounding with the slow leak of his confidence, but--

But Hajime simply nods, stroking his chin. “Perhaps I should look at my own as well. It hardly feels adequate next to all the work you’ve done.”

“Is this like...a sex thing?” Shinpachi’s eyes dart between the two of them. “It’s a sex thing, right?”

“No,” Yamazaki says, stern, immediately undermined by Hajime’s, “A little.”

It’s with a hefty heaping of betrayal that Yamazaki turns to him, glaring as he grounds out, “Absolutely not.”

Hajime’s mouth gives a dubious twist, and he opens it, perhaps to gainsay him, but--

But there’s no time, not when Heisuke practically explodes. “Are you a ninja too, Hajime?”

He blinks. “No.”

“Oh.” Heisuke deflates. “Okay, I guess...”

“I’m a samurai.”

“What--” Harada’s voice strains beneath the words “--is going on?”

“So let me get this straight.” Harada’s fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose, but by the wrinkle above them, Chizuru doubts it helps. “You two...dress up as samurai...?”

“I’m the samurai,” Hajime explains, so helpful. “Yamazaki is currently playing as a ninja. As he typically does.”

“You don’t have to tell them that,” he mutters. “That’s not really the point--”

“Right, of course, but...” Harada grimaces. “This is what you do on the weekends? For fun?”

A narrow shoulder lifts under Hajime’s tee, the closest he comes to a shrug. “An afternoon a month, to be more specific.”

“Once a month?” Heisuke asks, wide-eyed. “That doesn’t seem like a lot.”

“It takes a large amount of effort and dedication to keep up a long-form Live Action Roleplaying campaign,” he explains gravely. “That the organizers are able to run so often is a testament to their skill. And to run a weekend event--”

“So you mean you go there the whole weekend?” Heisuke blinks. “Like just forty-eight hours of samurai stuff?”

Hajime’s correction comes the same way as all his interactions: swiftly and without any judgment. “Seventy-two hours.”

Shinpachi goggles. “That’s a lot of fucking hours.”

“It is to aid with immersion.” Hajime isn’t a man of many words, but now he does not so much pause as he does breathe. “Unlike other games of its kind, Legend of the Five Rings does not focus so much on combat as it does internal conflict, and the robust worldbuilding--”

“This isn’t what they’re asking.” Yamazaki’s gaze darts wide-eyed around the table, never daring to stay longer than a blink. “You don’t have to--”

“--Is based on Sengoku Era Japan,” he continues, heedless. “As gratifying as it is to play on a regular basis, it really isn’t until a few hours into any session that people truly come to embody their roles. The court politics alone--”

“Saito.” Yamazaki may be seated at the opposite end of the living room, but his stare is enough to make even Hajime hesitate. “I think they get the idea.”

Harada looks between them, pained. “So are there...scripts or something?”

“No. Yes.” Hajime frowns. “It’s complicated. Each scene is improvised in character, but the organizers are present to facilitate the flow of the story. It is a collaborative effort.”

“But that’s it?” Heisuke asks. “You’re just like...samurai for a day? Or, er, three of them?”

“Yes.”

“And you do this--” Harada’s eyebrows furrow, pained “--for fun?”

Hajime doesn’t answer so much as cock his head, hands outspread as if to say, what else?

“That’s so...so cool!” Heisuke leaps to his feet, practically tripping over the table in his excitement. “Can I go? You guys gotta bring me!”

“What?” Harada blinks at him. “You want to go to this?”

“Uh, yeah?” His hands clench, too excited. “You get to be a samurai, Sano! Who wouldn’t want to?”

“Hey, so.” Shinpachi leans in, face pinched in curiosity. “Is this like...D&D or whatever?”

“In spirit,” Yamazaki creaks out, looking like death warmed over.

He nods. “Right, right. So like...a total sausage fest, or...?”

“The numbers on many tabletop games typically skews toward male,” Hajime explains, “but Live Action Roleplaying draws a higher percentage of female participants. Possibly due to the cosplay aspect.”

Shinpachi grins. “Oh, then count me in too, sensei.”

Harada stares at him. “Who are you?”

“What?” Shinpachi shrugs. “It’s math with babes. What’s not to love?”

“Ah...” Yamazaki waving hands don’t do much to hide his grimace. “I don’t really think this will be as interesting to you as you think...”

“He’s right,” Harada presses. “You may think it’s a good place to pick up women who aren’t afraid of, er, theoretical numbers--”

“They’re not theoretical,” Shinpachi huffs. “They’re real, it’s just the equations used to describe them are--“

“See? Already my eyes have glazed over.”

“I don’t know,” Chizuru hums, pitched just loud enough to be heard. “I think it sounds...fun?”

Yamazaki’s stare fixes on her. “Really?”

Even as a girl, Chizuru had never been one to play dress up, never been one to play pretend-- father didn’t approve, for one. Not when there were more direct benefits to be had from drilling flashcards or reading books. A second, her daydreams were vivid enough she hardly needed to act them out, not when Father was so apt to remind her, princesses don’t have to pass their medical exams.

But Yamazaki is as serious as they come, a TA for the dean of the pre-med department even before graduating. His acceptance to the medical school almost assured, and he finds this worth his time. Enough to have made a costume-- with his own hands!-- and sign up for a whole weekend away from his studies...

“Y-yeah.” She ducks her head, hoping to hide the heat that pricks at her cheeks. “I mean, as long as it wouldn’t be a bother for me to, um...”

“Ah, no! I mean, yes. Never.” Yamazaki shakes himself, pink staining the high arch of his cheekbones. “It’s not a problem.”

“Yeah, Chizu!” An arm clamps around her shoulders, dragging her against Shinpachi’s personal light display. “That’s right! Let’s all go. House field trip!”

Yamazaki’s jaw drops. “I don’t, er, know about that--!”

“Fine.” Harada sighs, getting to his feet. “If Chizuru wants to go. Count me in.”

“That’s the spirit!” Shinpachi claps him on the back, hard enough that even Harada has to cough. “Now, that just leaves...?”

“Uh-uh.” Souji’s arms fold over his chest, forbidding. “No way I’m going to your nerd party.”

“Aw, c’mon.” Shinpachi drops between them on the couch, arm pulling tight. “Think of it as a group bonding experience.”

Souji scowls. “What makes you think I care about bonding with any of you--”

“Well, if you’re going to be that way about it.” He squeezes tight enough to eke a squeak out of him. “Think about it as, ‘if you go we won’t tell Hijikata about you stealing shit.”

Souji glowers. “Fine,” he grumbles, shoving him off. “But I won’t like it!”

Shinpachi’s smile is all knives when he replies, “Wouldn’t expect you to.”

It’s dark when Chizuru stumbles out into the hall; there’d been daylight still when they’d piled into the parlor, but now night clings to the the edges of dusk, only enough light to gild the snow in golden shadow. It might bother her more if it wasn’t such a relief, a respite from having to scrape at the last reserve of her smiles. And so she takes it; one big breath and the muscles around her mouth slump, aching from use.

Any other night, she might worry about one of the boys following out behind her, but she can hear the ruckus shift from the parlor toward the kitchen, wheeled baggage and Shinpachi’s booming voice all tromping toward the back stair. Her day may have happened in fits and starts, but everyone else has been on the move, going from Christmas to short notice travel to fraught house meeting all within the space of hours. There’s no one who’s going to be worried about her.

Which suits her just fine. A few minutes lying face down on her comforter and she’ll be right as rain. Just a breath or two to herself, and--

Someone huffs behind her. Right behind her.

She whips around so fast, she nearly tumbles Yamazaki into the wall with her. Or at least his arm, half outstretched, now just hanging there in the air between them.

“Oh!” There’s no reason for her to shy back, but she does, guiltier with every inch. “Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“No, no. It’s my fault.” His hands aren’t large, not like Harada or Shinpachi, but the fingers are long and tapered, digging runnels through the shaggy bristle of his hair. “I should have-- ah, I mean, I just saw you, and er, wanted to make sure that you were all right. After, ah...all that.”

Her first instinct urges her to laugh, to let her nerves giggle out, there’s no need to worry about me--

But Yamazaki stares at her with the same careful intensity as he had in the kitchen-- you’re worth a good meal-- and Chizuru tries deflection instead. “I’m the one who should be asking you that! I went into your room without any permission and all, and Souji--” Yamazaki grimaces at the name “---I just...you have every right to be mad at me!”

“You?” he echoes, incredulous. “It’s not your fault, Yukimura. Okita’s the one who dragged you in there.”

She shakes her head. “I could have chosen to leave any time. I just was too curious to think to question him.”

“Curious?” There’s no inflection to the word, and with the shadows making a muddle of his expressions, there’s only the tilt of his head to tell here there’s a question. “Why would you be curious?”

“Ah, I’d just...never been inside before?” Her palms clap to her cheeks, and oh, she must glow from how hot her cheeks burn. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not! It’s just, ah...unexpected. I...” His mouth opens, as if he might say more, but with a lick of his lips, it closes instead. Or rather, his chin dips down and it follows, gaze dropping from her eyes to somewhere at her neck. As if...

“Oh, did I spill...?” She can’t actually remember what she’s eaten today, whether it could be something that she could walk around wearing, but Yamazaki’s already shaking his head.

“Ah, no, it’s just...you still have...” His fingers curl hesitantly in the air between them. “If you would let me...?”

Every twitching nerve of her stills as he steps close, fingers skimming past her shoulders. Only days ago she’d knotted his scarf, but it feels different now that he’s the one reaching, so close his hand meet behind her neck. He’s not bundled up now, no three layers of wool and thermal and parka to keep her from realizing that he smells nice, like...like something clean with a hint of eucalyptus, and it’s...

It’s a lot.

His fingers knit into the fabric at her nape, too slippery for him to find the end of it by touch. At least, the first time; he gathers it up, hiking it higher and higher until he can slide under it, the flat of his nails smooth and warm against her neck. Her pulse pounds so hard he must feel it, but Yamazaki doesn’t flinch, instead lifting it with surgical precision. The stretchy fabric threads right off her ponytail with no more than that initial brush of fingers, and she--

She stare. It’s the mask. The one Souji put on her. All this time, and she’s-- she’s just been wearing it, like some sort of...scarf. Right over her tanuki pajamas. In front of everyone.

In front of Yamazaki.

If she could melt into the woodwork, it would be a miracle. But as always, reality refuses to oblige her. “Oh, I hadn’t even...ah...”

“Please, don’t worry about it.” His fingers smooth over the fabric, mouth curving into a rueful smile. “It looked better on you than it does on me.”

“Ah!” Her gasp catches in her throat. “That’s not...um...” She hakes her head, hoping that might clear enough room for a sentence or two to compose itself. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Yamazaki glances up at her, amused, and oh-- she hadn’t meant to say that. Not like that.

“You know, I meant to...” He stops himself. Not abruptly, like she does, but a slow, thoughtful halt. Like a train pulling into a station rather than a car braking for a yellow light. “I mean, I don’t think I ever got around to saying it last night, and today, with everything...well”

He hesitates again, a breath hissing between his teeth. But this time his shoulders square, and even though his gaze is lost in the shadow of his brows, she knows he’s looking at her. “Merry Christmas, Yukimura.”

[noisycowboyglitter]

Game Show Host Interviews: Insights from Industry Veterans

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A board game lover is an enthusiast who finds joy and excitement in tabletop gaming experiences. These individuals appreciate the strategic depth, social interaction, and tactile nature of board games. They often have diverse collections spanning various genres, from classic family games to complex strategy titles. Board game lovers enjoy organizing game nights, learning new rules, and introducing others to their hobby. They value the face-to-face interaction and intellectual challenge that board games provide, seeing them as a way to connect with others, exercise their minds, and escape digital screens.

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[unoisveimved-un-proffesional]

I fucking love in video games and movies and books when the elements described instead of being traditional just “magic” is some kind of non-traditional phrase that you otherwise never here used in any capacity in day to day speech.

Like use the term thaumaturgy more it sounds so cool! Or Bathmism. I’m determined to write a story simply so I can realize the magical potential of the term Bathmism. Bathmism. Sounds cool right? Or fuckin’, Élan Vital, which is a similar concept, that of growth and life. Easy magic system fodder! Come on!

Like I love my blue robe pointy hat magic wand fireball fella’s who need to charge up on mana and ponder their orb, but like I wanna see more subtle but still powerful magic that sounds like it’s etymology was derived from philosophy, poetry, and alchemy textbooks and obscure schools of mysticism. Even if you just wanna call it “Magic”, give it some new and bold but classical and classy finesse, u know? Give it a basic name if you want but like, quote a real world philosopher to explain it or throw in some physics concepts to add some depth. Again, fresh, classy, bold, and with finesse. Finesse to! Always love to see games with Finesse as a stat or skill. Terms like Dexterity and Constitution while once semi exotic but understandable and still useful have become over saturated and should in my opinion be used more sparingly to be used effectively. Naming an otherwise traditional by the books stat for your tabletop rpg something exotic can really add a lot of character to it. But I also love terms so specific they cannot reasonably become as widespread, terms specifically geared towards a certain concept and chosen specially for it, to really convey its individual characteristics.

Use. More. Fucking. Words. Language. Verbosity. History and culture too. Physics, mathematics, geometry, biology, psychology, philosophy, education elements to magic. Actually it doesn’t even need to be magical! It can be skill based etymology. Word games, mind games, game games, physical games, sports, fighting, politics, surgery, it can all use a touch or too of education elements, interesting ideas at play, more than just things happening, what is happening, why is it happening, clues as to when and how it came to be, interesting captivating words that pull you in to the concepts and describe them in a fitting and endearing way.

Sorry I got a little rambly there.

[yourghost-host]

Well would you look at that! My first completed headcanon set! It’s pretty lengthy, so all of it will be beneath the cut

My apologies if it’s a bit ramble-y, I got a bit carried away! Anyways, presenting:

The Main Four playing DnD

Trouble is around every corner, and times of peace are few and far between. Unfortunately, when someone does stumble upon some free time away from their stressful missions, their usually at a loss for what to do with themselves. There aren’t exactly many fun things one can do in the middle of the apocalypse. All of that free time is usually wasted as an individual tries in vain to find something to throw their spare time at.

But, despite this, sometimes something truly interesting can be dug up in the wreckage of the world. And that was exactly the case when Deimos and Sanford returned to their base of operations with a somewhat damaged cardboard box. Within it were some odd little trinkets. There were some figurines, a few boards and even some paper and pencils amongst other items. But one thing in particular stuck out. It weighed the box down tremendously. It was an abnormally large rule book of some sorts. Neither had any clue what it’s contents eluded to thanks to the water damage that obscured the cover, but it was something to investigate with their new sudden abundance of free time.

Dungeons and Dragons, that was apparently the name of the game they dug up. Deimos didn’t have a clue what the game was or what it was about, but Sanford was able to recognize the name from before Nevadas fall. Despite the recognition, Sanford couldn’t really explain what the game was about on account of him never really being interested in it before.

“It’s like uh… a math game? I think- listen I don’t know. The only time I’ve heard it brought up was when people were making fun of it for being nerdy.” Said Sanford.

The two were at a loss, so they turned to the smartest person they knew. Surely he would have an idea of what these confusing rules and stats amounted to.

Needless to say Doc was very surprised to see Sanford and Deimos barging into his office with a copy of Dungeons and Dragons.

It took some lengthy explaining on the medics behalf, but the two eventually got the general idea of it. It’s a game where you play as a character you make and traverse a made up world made by some guy who has control over the story. Of course there were hundreds of rules to follow to keep things fair and balanced, but rules were only ever as important as the ‘Dungeon Master’ made them out to be.

After the explanation 2BDamned couldn’t help but ask how the two had gotten the games rule book and just why they decided to keep it anyways. At this Deimos shrugged and simply answered with, “it’s something to do, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t much longer before Sanford and Deimos were dragging Doc along to be their DM for their first campaign. Even Hank followed after the three to see what all the fuss was about.

While Doc didn’t like being dragged away from his work, he did quite like the idea of spending his break DM’ing. He had played quite a lot of DnD before the world was torn apart. The man thought back to those times in the not-so-distant past where he and some friends would relax after a metal concert with a few engaging hours of the tabletop game. It was… nice, the idea of being able to return to that. Granted, it was in a vastly different atmosphere with very different peers, but he would take the opportunity without complaint.

As a DM Doc is only as strict with rules as he needs to be to keep people in line. His stories are well told and so are his descriptions of events, albeit that some of his plot lines are a little bit predictable. It’s not surprising for one to find that his stories are almost always on the more serious side too.

He would have the occasional lighthearted oneshot if it wasn’t so hard to keep his three players from becoming murder hobos. Sanford and Deimos are a lot more easy to reel in. Once the two get comfortable with the game they both stray away from the endless attack spamming and actually get somewhat attached to not only the story, but their characters as well.

Deimos didn’t think he’d care, in all honesty. He never would have imagined that he’d get so caught up in the story and his own character, but there he was, theorizing what Docs next plot point would be and preparing ideas of his own for his characters story progression. He takes his characters stats oddly seriously and tries his best to find a good balance. He also likes trying vastly different builds to see what fits him best! When it comes to builds he typically prefers playing tanks, he’s oddly fond of halflings and orcs and switches up his class constantly with each new character. A lot of his characters tend to have some sort of tragic backstory and he definitely vents through them. He sees his character as just a tiny little extension of himself, and he plays as such.

Sanford was initially more interested in the game than Deimos, only to later find himself equally as invested. He loves making more silly characters, especially wizards. He has Fire Ball on every. Last. One. Spams the shit out of spells and has an absolute blast going through stories and doing silly stuff. Not great at making builds and organizing stats, he’s just there to have fun, really. Sanford really would like to have the chance to be the DM at some point. While he doesn’t want to learn all of the various class and race rules he does want to tell a story of his own. If he ever got the chance, his stories would be a lot more silly and over the top than Docs. But, they’d all be fun till the last second, would leave people in stitches from laughing, and would be heartfelt enough to have a bit of an emotional impact by the time it was over.

Hank is an absolute nightmare to deal with as a player. All of his characters stats are dump stats except for the points that go into areas that help do damage, he gives no backstory, refuses to roleplay or describe anything, will speed along non-combat sections to get to the fights and will absolutely obliterate any NPC in his way. Full on, murder hobo. He prefers to play Tieflings and outright refuses to play anything other than a rogue. It is because of this behavior that Hank has been booted from the table multiple times until his character finally died during combat. Doc didn’t give him the chance to make his next character, instead giving him a pre-made one that was almost the complete opposite of his last character. This new character was a tiny little fluffy grunt with a silly name that’s role was a healer. The new character had hardly any stats that made it a good fighter and was built purely from the ground up as support. Despite knowing this, Hank still tried to kill things anyway for a good while before finally giving up. He didn’t want to quit the game altogether, but it became clear that he wouldn’t be allowed a new character that he wanted until he tried to use this one properly. And so, he did. For the rest of that campaign he played as his silly little fluffy grunt and he healed Sanford and Deimos’ characters all the while. After some bribing, he even sprinkled in some very light descriptions and dialog. By the end, while he’d never admit it, he found himself attached to his character. Hank enjoyed the little support character for the entire duration of its life, before it too eventually died. While Hank did make a character almost identical to his first, his behavior had significantly improved past that first attempt. Like with this fluffy grunt, he now made the occasional description and would sometimes work with NPC’s instead of outright threatening them or killing them.

Doc doesn’t really play much, seeing as he’s the main DM when he doesn’t allow Sanford the occasional oneshot. When he does play however he usually just plays whatever class he’s feeling that day. Most commonly through, he’ll switch between a Warlock or a Paladin. He has a particular fondness for Aarakocra’s and Leonin. His play style is practically the same as his DM’ing style, very serious, save for the rare occasion where he gets caught up in the hilarity of a scenario thrown at him by Sanford. While his monotone voice might not help express it, he has a fun time playing both the roles of a DM and Player. It’s something he looks forward to, and this game helped bring him closer to his co-workers much more than he thought it would.

[mylordshesacactus]

Hope things get better. Here’s a cat for you to pet 🐈

I have never played D&D, though I have done some very casual RP’ing online. I was invited to join a D&D group a while back but the learning curve seemed really intimidating and I had other things going on at the time. I wasn’t really feeling comfortable with the dynamics of that particular group either. Do you have any wisdom to impart to first time players?

It's not as intimidating as it seems! However, definitely find a DM you feel comfortable with--and a DM, and group, where you feel totally comfortable saying "hey, I'm super new and I need a crash course and patience" because you know you'll get enthusiastic support.

Like....I have a 5-person party, and 2/5 of them are complete newbies who'd never played a tabletop RPG before, never watched a D&D show or streamed campaign or anything, had no frame of reference at all.

They've been an absolute JOY to play with, and I've had a BLAST being their first DM and being able to introduce them to the mechanics. And they keep saying they like my DMing style and are having fun, so I've gotta believe them on that!

I think my general advice is threefold:

Find a DM who's happy, not just accepting, about having new players and helping you get your sea legs.

Start with a low-level adventure so your brain doesn't explode

Try to know what you're interested in!

So, in order, and under a readmore because it got long:

Find A DM Who Loves Working With Newbies

New players deserve a DM who's thrilled to have them! They deserve a DM who's excited to share something they love!

However, it's completely fine for a DM to say "hey, so, this campaign is really gonna be aimed toward experienced players" and to run campaigns for experienced players. DMs may want to make full use of obscure mechanics, or work with a bunch of house rules or homebrewed mechanics (the next campaign I'm planning is going to HEAVILY involve some homebrew nautical mechanics), or just want to have extremely tactical combat that's just not gonna be newbie-friendly.

The responsible and kind thing to do is to not place a new player in a situation where they're going to be overwhelmed and frustrated, and sour them on D&D as a whole. That's good DMing! It just means the campaign isn't a good match for your needs.

Most campaigns, honestly, can be very friendly to new players. I didn't design the Suncrest campaign with the intent that it would be "a newbie-friendly campaign TM". I just...designed an interesting campaign with the intent that it would start at level 1 and end and Wherever We End Up but probably around level 15-17. But even if there's no actual aspects that make a campaign inappropriate for a new player...if a DM views playing with you as work, or a sacrifice? That's a bad table for you.

Most DMs will be delighted that you want to play their game. The rush of joy when I got to help someone design their first D&D character? The fact that I got to be there the first time they rolled a natural 20, or killed their first monster? That was amazing. It was the most fun I've had in a long time.

It does take a little more work, though. My "session zero", a formality that I honestly might not otherwise have bothered with since all the information typically shared in a session zero had been talked over in our dedicated campaign server in the month leading up to the game starting, was 75% a crash course in D&D mechanics for the benefit of the newbies. It was completely optional for everyone but we got some experienced players joining us just for fun. We had a great time! It involved sitting down with their character sheets, making sure everything was filled out properly, explaining the difference dice and how spellcasting worked, and then running some stakes-free rounds of combat before the game.

Basically, I ran a tutorial level for them.

Not every DM is up to teaching! That's fine, and again, if they know that they don't have the skills or patience to walk someone through the very very basics, then the responsible thing to do is be honest about that--but jesus, do it without blaming people for being new! Frankly, the books are DENSE and overwhelming and hard to retain information from, and needing something shown to you before you get it is normal.

Find A Low-Level Campaign To Start

Speaking of the high barrier to entry in those dense books--the learning curve is a lot sharper the higher level you start. Having to prepare five to ten levels' worth of abilities, hitpoints, spell slots, weapons, equipment purchases, magic items, etc, ready to go from Day One, with no context or prior experience telling you what may or may not be useful?

That's choice paralysis at its finest! For a beginning player, you'll probably want a campaign that starts as close to level 1 as you can get. Lots of DMs don't like starting AT level 1 because, for example, you pretty much always end up levelling up right after Session 1, so it's easy to say there's no point. I disagree, but then, I like running low-level campaigns!

(It can also depend on the tone or the setting; if the campaign or module they're running requires an established group of experienced adventurers, it'd be weird to start at level 1 where you've got like, ten hitpoints and two abilities. However, having only ten hitpoints and two abilities is a BOON if you've never managed hitpoints or abilities in a TTRPG before!)

It's worth it, however, to clarify with a potential DM how deadly their encounters tend to be if they're running at low levels. For a lot of D&D groups, there's an unspoken assumption that if you're running a low-level campaign, a few PCs are expected to die. This may or may not be what you're looking for.

This ties into advice #3, namely:

Try To Know What You're Interested In

Now, this is kind of a big ask when the whole point is that you've never played before!

Obviously you don't know specifics, like whether you like spellcasters or whatever. You may not even be sure you know what kind of campaigns you're interested--people toss descriptions around all the time. You may not know anything about the different Official Settings! I honestly don't! I prefer to homebrew my settings! What does "low-magic" mean in this context? You don't know! You've never played! You have no idea whether you'd prefer that or not!

But you know what interests you about D&D. You know why you want to play.

Do you want to do mostly social encounters--what people call "roleplaying" (protip: EVERYTHING is roleplaying. Choosing your tactics, describing your attacks in combat, the order in which you explore a ruin, these things are all roleplaying)? Do you mostly just want to run dungeons--roll dice, cast spells, use weapons, fight monsters, get loot, rinse, repeat? Do you want a balance between those things?

What about character focus? Do you want a game that's ALL about personal growth and each character's goals with little overarching plot, one in which backstory is there solely for flavor, or something in the middle, where personal arcs are relevant but the overarching plot takes priority? What about the level of investment in character depth? There are, like I said, tables where they expect extremely deadly encounters and where it is assumed that multiple PCs will die by halfway through the campaign. There are tables that run very low-risk campaigns where there's an unspoken understanding that this is mostly a character-focused story, and that while the DM won't protect you from your own bad decisions, unless you actively put your character in clearly-telegraphed danger, it's likely that nothing will happen to them and resurrection magic is easily available regardless.

Most people prefer a balance--a game where the challenges are real (or else there's no satisfaction in overcoming them) and the risks are genuine, but where there's no....stigma, to being emotionally invested in your character and potentially devastated by their loss. This is the kind of game I run--I believe very firmly that the social contract of D&D is that it's my job to create real challenges with real dangers, but that as a trade-off, it's also my job to ensure that character deaths are meaningful. They'll be given weight and significance.

If any of my players' PCs die right now, it's very unlikely that they'll be able to resurrect them--they're level 6, they don't have that kind of money or power. And if any of my players' PCs die right now...I'm not going to fudge rolls or lie to save them, because that robs them of the story they're telling and the significance of their decisions. But I can make the death mean something, and I can make sure that the narrative remembers the fallen character, and I can certainly make sure that the PLAYER is taken care of. I find DMs whose approach is "immediately have them roll up a new character right there in session and get them back in the action, this is D&D, character death happens, move on" really off-putting.

But there's nothing WRONG with running meat-grinder dungeons or high-death-toll games! You just need to be on the same page about what the campaign is going to be like. Same as making sure everyone understands what the "rating" is and what kind of content is or is not acceptable in the game.

So, yeah! Communicate about what kind of game it's going to be, lower the barrier of entry for yourself as much as possible, and shop around until you find a campaign and a gaming group that feels right!

I guarantee it exists, and they'll be as thrilled to find you as you are to find them.

A D&D campaign can last for years, and the characters you create for them can stick with you for a lifetime. It's worth it to spend the time and energy making sure it's a good experience.

[d-pennants]

Through the Moon Instagram Live

Partial transcript of the Instagram Live with Justin Richmond and Aaron Ehasz. It was only posted for 24 hours and a lot of stuff was talked about. I tried to copy the answers as close to what was actually said, but I won’t guarantee I didn’t mishear or miss stuff. I just focused on the stuff about tDP.

No S4 announcement today.

Do you have a favorite character? Are you allowed to play favorites? JR: Yeah. I definitely have characters that I like more than other characters, but I’ll never admit who they are. [laughs]

Fine, how about hints about S5 then?

AE: Justin and I were working on a scene this morning, a scene in which someone makes a sacred promise to Bait. Hope that’s not to big a spoiler.

[Explaining about Through the Moon which is out today (Oct 6th) Shout out to Xanthe Bouma & Peter Wartman, who will be there for the AMA on Friday. And shout out to the team at Scholastic.]

[Technical issues made the audio break up while JR was relocating. I couldn’t catch what the actually questions were for this little bit, but I caught some of the answers.]

Question about Zuko’s VA Dante Basco

AE: He’s amazing to work with. I’d definitely be happy to work with him.

Question about Callum’s Mage Wings

AE: I’d just get mage wing out even just to go to the bathroom at night if I were Callum.

Question about Runaan

AE: I don’t know. That’s a mystery. Runaan is certainly in the magical cursed coin in some form. But I don’t know what he’ll do or if he can survive it. But that’s a story we’ll be certain to tell.

[JR relocated & AE had to log out and rejoin, which fixed the issue.]

Are there other graphic novels coming? Is Through the Moon part of a series with an over arching plot?

JR: Hopefully yes. Hopefully we get to do some more with Scholastic. This is a standalone. It is part of the core story of the Dragon Prince. It counts as canon. But there’s not a sequel to Though the Moon.

AE: We would love to do more graphic novels. We are actively talking about and planning it. Definitely in the cards. But not necessarily an over arching story.

Asking about Janai’s brother?

AE: We’re going to find out about Janai’s brother for sure. He’s a really cool character, a lot of fun.

What do Moonshadow elves do during a full moon? Do they just become invisible.

AE: It’s not just invisibility. It is a stealth mode. I think we talk about it as like they’re almost partially slipping into a “Moon dimension” that partially obscures how visible they are. But also their physically is maybe changed at bit so they can partially materialize for a split instant to do damage, then they’re phasing out. I think they’re phasing in and out of some kind of Moon dimension. So it’s partially invisibility, but there’s also some defense and fighting stuff that happens.

What does Moonberry juice taste like?

AE: In my mind the things that are conjured are some kind of juice blend. Mulberry juice, pomegranate. Justin talked about a bit of cran involved? But I always think mulberries.

JR: Try mulberry juice. Mulberries have like the weirdest, coolest taste. If you haven’t tried it you should do it.

AE: Not ignoring S4 questions, but we just don’t have a good answer. We are working on it. But we don’t have a S4 date. We getting things moving in a good way and we’re excited but we won’t have the information on a date for S4. We really appreciate you being patient for that. Don’t have any age criteria that we can reveal right now.

Will there be outfit changes for the dragon squad?

JR: There’s already some in the graphic novel. Rayla gets some pretty great pyjamas.

AE: They’re just going to rotate outfits. They’re just gonna trade clothes. You should see how great Soren gonna looks wearing Claudia’s clothes. How Callum’s going to look squeezed into some of Ezran’s outfits. Everybody’s just gonna try on each other’s stuff.

JR: I like it. Too bad that actually 3D doesn’t work like that, where you just trade outfits. Because it’d be hilarious. Yeah, of course, people are going to change outfits. There’s going to be some cool new stuff to see. Absolutely going forward.

Is Callum close to obtaining any other arcanum / going to learn any other arcanum in the future?

JR: No spoilers, but there’s little bit of a hint of some of the answer to this in this graphic novel, so you should check it out. I don’t want to spoil anything. I think Callum fascinated by all the arcanum. He’s not just limiting his interest to Sky.

AE: If you’re a betting person, isn’t Callum’s going to be the first human archmage. A little bit trolling, but yeah, he loves magic. He’s fascinated. But he’s groundbreaking. He’s doing things humans haven’t done before and his potential is limitless. May not be S4, may be S17 at that point.

Will there there be more Sarai? I really want Callum and Ezran to visit her memorial statue.

JR: That would be a beautiful moment. That’d be great, that’d be pretty cool to see. There will be some more Sarai, we’ll find out more about their family. I’m not sure how much we’re aware, but Sarai is certainly not gone from the series. You’ll see Sarai again.

Is the Key of Aaravos actually the key of where he was imprisoned?

AE & JR: We can’t tell you.

JR: We don’t even know. We haven’t even discovered the answer yet.

AE: We know! Actually, that was one of the first things we knew at the very beginning. We’ll get to it.

Is the Sun arcanum the only one that can heal? Or maybe the Ocean arcanum can heal as well/or to?

AE: Great question. Yes. I suspect there are healing abilities possible through different primals. Ocean is a perfect example. I think it’s likely different kinds of healers that call on different energy to restore life and health to those who are injured or sick.

Could original characters introduced in the graphic novels potentially make it into the show?

JR: Absolutely. It’s a huge universe, so we won’t hold back if we think somebody from a graphic novel or the game will fit into the show in the right way, of course we would do that. One of the cool things about working with all the same team is that stuff like that can happen, because we can control all of it. Which is amazing. It’s a great feeling.

AE: There’s a character we’ve talked about for a while from the video game and recently that character finally had their moment in the show. We wanna see different ways to access the world and characters.

JR: Also we’re working with Fandom on a tabletop RPG so that can go another way. You can see characters coming into the show.

Do we have to read the graphic novel before we watch S4?

AE: I don’t think we should say too much. You don’t have too, but everything that happened in the graphic novel happened before S4, it really happened. So can probably infer some of it, but best experience will be read the graphic novel. Get yourself up to date.

How will Zym progress throughout the seasons? Will he grow up and learn to talk and how to manage his powers?

JR: I don’t want to say too much. Zym is going to grow along with the other characters. He’s not static. He’s a puppy, he’s a little baby, and he’s growing up.

AE: We’ll see Zym growing up more for sure.

Will there be more Gren content?

AE & JR: Yeah! [Laughing] AE: Of course. JR: How could there not be? AE: Didn’t we announce already that season 5’s Book 5: Gren? JR: Books 5 through 14 is all Gren. Then we’ll come back around to the other arcanum.

Will we ever get to see Ellis and Ava again?

AE & JR: Maybe? Probably. JR: Not 100%

How did the idea of making the graphic novel come about?

JR: Couple of things. We were talking to Scholastic and they were saying ��what if we did this thing together” and we were fascinated by that idea. We’ve always been interested in comics. It sorta came up very naturally with them. And then we started talking about the story, Aaron and I, that could fit in here with the writers and stuff. I felt like a natural thing. That’s how I remember it - Aaron may have other memories of it.

AE: I think that the whole dream of this partnership with Scholastic has been to serve the community by being able to continue tell stories in the wider world of Xadia, through graphic novels, and novels and other books. That part of why we’re so excited about this partnership. It’s so much more depth and insight into different characters parts of the world that we may not have time for in the 22 minutes on Netflix. So the partnership with Scholastic is perfect for deepening and expanding those stories. That’s what it comes down to.

JR: They introduced us to Xanthe and Peter, who just absolutely crushed it.

AE: Yes. [Name?] is still at Wonderstorm if someone asks. It’s still happening. JR: Yes, I talked to him yesterday. He absolutely still here. Xanthe and Peter, we got introduced to them through Scholastic and they just absolutely knocked this out the park. It was a joy to work with both of them and what an amazing job they both did on this. We’re super excited to have gotten to work with them on a graphic novel.

AE: More shout outs to Xanthe Bouma and Peter Wartman.

What did Aaravos say to Khessa?

JR: We can’t say. AE: We can’t, but Janai is wondering that too. And we’re excited about it. It’s weird - I’m not being helpful, but it’s a good question. I may not be giving a satisfying answer, but it’s a good question.

How does Janai know Aaravos spoke to Khessa?

AE: She might not have seen it, but she’s going to find out about it.

Someone asked about the Orphan Queen.

AE: We love the Orphan Queen and there are more references coming seasons 4 and onward. It’s a story I’ve always wanted to tell. We think it will be a great movie someday, maybe. The story of the Orphan Queen is certainly relevant to the story and the saga as it’s unfolding now. It’s a cool story we wanna tell.

We know only some Skywing elves have wings, and not all Sunfire have fire-mode, but what about Moonshadow elves. As they can only use their powers once a month, rather than at any given moment, is it an ability all (or at least most) of them have or is it just some of them?

AE: I think it’s one of those things where Moonshadow elves are in tune with the Moon primal, and one of the very powerful skills that a Moonshadow elf being in tune with that arcanum can master is moonshadow mode, that makes you an excellent assassin, so they evolved this culture that does some of this stealthy, assassin work. It’s certainly possible that there are other powers and abilities that come from connecting to that arcanum that can be directly realized - that a Moonshadow elf might be able to manifest. So you may see some of that in the future. Maybe you have some ideas for your fanfiction or your cool art to show some of those powers, but the powers and abilities really come from them being attuned to these primals and some of it comes naturally and some it comes with training and bringing out the ability to do the special thing. I don’t see why it’s limited. In learning, for example, that Sunfire elves have at least two abilities that can connect to the arcanum is part of what may help understand that.

Do we read fanfictions?

AE: Yes and no - not so much. We highly encourage it and we love people do it. Every once in a while we get someone saying “you gotta look at this, it’s so charming” or “oh, this is so cool.” Or someone will bring something to our attention. There is some really amazing work out there and there’s some writers who are terrific. But as a rule I don’t think we do it regularly when someone says “check this out”.

Will there be more dark mages?

JR: Yes. You will see more dark mages, 100%. But I don’t want to say any more than that. AE: It’s interesting too. This is one of the great things about Scholastic partnership again, that there’s this sort of interplay about things you find out in the show and I think at least one of the dark mages is very significant. The first time people will hear about that person will be in Book 2: Sky the core novel. That’s someone who plays him in the story, in the saga, once the series comes back. But yeah, there’s a very important dark mage who will come up in that book.

Did Aaravos create dark magic?

AE: No, it was discovered not created. Did Aaravos turn them onto it or help them discover it? That’s very possible. Whether Aaravos played a role in developing their ability to do dark magic. Exploring the possibilities of dark magic.

Will we meet other types of dragon and/or archdragons?

JR: 100% yes. Dragon’s in the name. We’re bound by oath! AE: There will be dragons.

Is it possible the dragon king will unfreeze?

AE: Should we not answer that? I feel like it’s possible, but I don’t want to encourage or get anyone too excited. I think being turned to stone is a pretty dismal fate.

Can elves do dark magic?

AE: Can we just say yes? JR: Absolutely. Elves can do dark magic. Totally possible.

How do you go about populating Xadia with cities and landmarks? Do you have the landmarks and find places that fit or did you have the shape and find things to fill it? Or mixture of both? JR: A bit of both. There were some places we’d talked about and generally knew where it is or what this place is going to be. But some of it, when we saw the first version of that map, and the details, we were like “oh my goodness,” there were some obvious things we wanted to put in there. Then there’s some easter eggy stuff that just fun.

Do we think Claudia deserves a redemption arc?

AE: Why does she need a redemption arc. Why are you judging her? What has see done that requires redemption? She’s pretty much in the clear. JR: I’m insulted for her. (laughs)

Is Corvus’ middle name Dennis?

AE: Do you want it to be Dennis? JR: It can absolutely be Dennis. No reason it can’t be. I think I know where this comes from. There was a running gag in the writers between Devon and myself where we call Corvus “Dennis Trackerman.” There was a whole thing. It went on way too long. AE: We hadn’t named him yet. JR: We were talking about if there were a whole family of Trackerman, cousins and it went on way too long. I think his middle name could absolutely be Dennis. AE: Seems right to me. JR: So it’s official - Corvus Dennis Trackerman.

Is there a certain reason Rayla is scared of water and if there is will we find out more about it in the show?

AE: I think there may be. We may find out more about it. Part of it is because of the way she’s wired. I think she’s great at running through the trees and balancing and doing the things she does, is she senses the stability of the earth beneath her, the amount of stability or flexibility of a tree limb or side of a cliff. She’s very sensitive and in tuned. I think when you take someone like that and put them in the water, I think it - whoosh - overwhelms them. It alarming. Some of it’s a little physical, but I suspect there may have been something that happened. She certainly brings a sense of emotion around it, feels like it’s beyond discomfort. JR: I feel like there was a tra-

[There was a bit of a pause so they ending up talking over each other. AE starts asking the next question while JR gets cut off].

Someone asked if we can learn the backstory on Ethari?

AE: I know that there’s a beautiful story about Ethari’s birthday on our website that can give you a glimmer. But I think that’s something I would love to hear. I’m sure it’s something that Devon and Ian - perhaps Neil has thought about.

Do you think you’ll explore Callum’s dad or is he not important to the story?

AE: I think it’s possible we’ll learn more about Callum’s dad in the sense of the role he played in Sarai’s life and Callum’s own life. Hopefully in one of the books that comes out. JR: Yes, he is important. He’s foundational to how Callum became Callum.

Will the Dragon Queen in more involved in Season 4?

AE & JR: Yes. Dragons.

Is Rayla the main character of the story of Through the Moon?

JR: It’s Rayla focused, but it’s like the show, there’s various non-Rayla bits. But if I had to pick a main I’d say yeah, Rayla. AE: Probably ask Xanthe what she thought about that question.

Do we see more Crow Master?

JR: We can never get enough Crow Master as far as I’m concerned. If the show was just the Gren and Crow Master show I feel like we can make some stuff happen. We’ll definitely see more of him.

AE: Yesterday we were working on a Crow Master scene, and the writers were like, do we need it, and like, It’s a Crow Master scene!

Is it canon elves have 6 toes?

JR: I think they have 4 toes, right? AE: I’m not sure what happened there. I think that’s an oops someone made. I suspect they have 4 digits per hand or foot.

[Side note: I think Jack DeSena was talking about 6 toes on Zoom into Xadia]

“Gren” is that the main spinoff?

AE: We were gonna a have a spinoff that was just Gren, like the character’s life. Even if it was just mainly Gren enjoying the morning and getting ready for work and winding down at the end of the day and possibly waking up in the middle of the night, thinking about things and going back to sleep. Cause, things will be fine.

Will the history of Xadia’s splitting be important in the future?

JR: Yes, absolutely. That event is crazy important in terms of the history of the continent. You may not see more of the actually event of it, the getting split, but it’s a huge deal that matters a lot.

Soulfang serpents feed on the souls of their prey, does that make them a Moon primal creature?

AE & JR: I think that’s right. JR: And they’re terrifying.

Does Bait have a middle name or a glowtoad tribal name? They’d love to see how Ezran found or got Bait?

JR: I think we’ve said Ezran got Bait from Harrow. Harrow gave him Bait. Glowtoad tribal name is some sort of grunt noise that’s specific, it’s pretty funny to think about. Also, how would you know which is the tribal name and which is the middle? I guess they’d know. It’s only for glowtoads.

Will we see how people react to Rayllum or elf/human relationships in general?

JR: Yes. It could be a huge thing in the show. Human and elf relationships are a big deal, absolutely we will see that stuff going forward. Yes, you will definitely see that stuff.

How long did it take from conception to production for Through the Moon?

JR: I think it was about a year / nine months. To go from story idea all the way to finished. AE: If we’re talking story idea it’s almost a year and a half. It’s a lot of work. We worked with Peter on a number of drafts and outlines and scripts. Then with Xanthe for quite some time.

What is the time gap between the comic and season 3?

AE: Couple of weeks? JR: It’s pretty short. It’s almost immediately following season 3.

Is Opeli actually Soren and Claudia mom, but they  don’t remember her?

JR: No, she’s not. But that would be kinda funny. AE: Do you maybe ship Opeli & Viren a little bit. JR: That would be a pretty funny relationship.

The time gap between Through the Moon and Season 4?

AE: Can’t say. JR: You’ll find out in season 4. Lots of weeks.

How long does it usually take to animate a scene?

JR: That’s a pretty variable answer. The way it works is; we write a script, it gets recorded, there’s a bunch of 2D passes where we do storyboards and animatics and those are all hand drawn, and that takes weeks and weeks of time. At some point that’s approved and it gets handed off to the animators. In our show we do 3D animation with a sort of 2D sheet or look to it. So 3D animators would get that animatic, and they’d be handed a shot. Sometimes, depending on how complex the shot is, there’s sometime multiple animators will work on a single sequence. If there’s a lots of stuff going on with multiple characters you’ll get more than one person working on a shot. But it totally depends how much facial animation there is, how much action, how much running around, if they’re standing or talking. It totally depends. There’s a sort of variable number of seconds the animator can do a week. There’s not like a hard or fast answer here. Sometimes if it’s simple they can animate maybe 20 seconds a week, if it’s crazy complicated they may be doing half that. On average, it on the 20 seconds a week range. But wildly variable depending on the shot and what happening.

Is there a bigger world out there or is Xadia all there is?

AE: There’s some stuff on the periphery of the map that is part of a bigger world. But the main focus is this continent. It’s where the key action is. I think there are things on the periphery. We sometimes do jokes the Avatar world is on the other side. JR: If you flip the world over.

Are the elven face marking henna tattoo or are they permanent? JR: They’re more like henna tattoo. AE: Depends on the culture. There are probably some elven cultures where they more permanently tattoo some of the marking and they’re some where they’re more temporary makeup. But I think we’ve said for the Moonshadow elves it’s more like henna. Semi-permanent tattoos.

Will there be more Queen Aanya?

JR:  Yeah. AE: I hope so too. JR: I love Queen Aanya. She’s awesome and a very exciting character. Also she has the coolest bow ever and I want to see more of that not matter what.

Aanya/Ezran friendship?

AE: I want to see that. We talked about that. JR: We can’t talk about that yet, but yes.

Who is the best fighter in the show?

JR: I don’t know if there’s a best fighter. There’s a lot of awesome fighters in the show. AE: Rayla and Soren both have different fighting skills. Corvus has different set of fighting skill. They’re all great fighters. Amaya’s incredible. Actually, the answer might be Amaya. If I had to put an answer on it. Just fundamentals. That be my answer. JR: That makes sense. I agree. I bet Soren would disagree.

Do you guys ever play D&D after work?

JR: Yes, we have a whole D&D crew after work. We love Dungeons & Dragons. We love Tabletop RPG We play all kinds of board games, not just Dungeons & Dragons. We had a whole series of board game nights - when we can be at the office - that were really fun. Continue that when we can all get back together. Played some virtual version too since Covid.

Will we ever see Villads again? JR: I don’t know if we should answer that one? AE: I think so, yeah. JR: Also, Villads is the name of a person who worked on the show - he’s an amazing director. AE: Not just a person, the supervising director of the show. Wonderful leader. Inspirational. JR: And a big sailor.

Then they wrapped up. Thanks, shout outs, reminder of AMA etc.

[lady-moonbroch]

Mitsuhide x MC “Perilous Games”

Fandom: Ikémen Sengoku Kinktober: Day 5 || Gun play

Genre: NSFW +18 (No hint of violence at all) Word Count: 2.040 (buckle-up it’s a long one) Author’s note: Hello my dear darlings! I’m a tiny bit late for this one but it matters not, it’s here mis pieces de resistance! I just wish to apologise profoundly if this is sloppy. I’m trying to be quick since I’m unprepared and this was a last minute call (I was oblivious to gunplay kink), but I hope you enjoy it!  I will see your on the 7th 🍎 and 8th day 🎩

[The challenge] ~ @alloveroliver

“Will you humour me in a game, little mouse?”

He approached you after his birthday banquet came to an end, offering a challenge.

And you should have known better. He is trouble, the danger in his eyes prominent and unmasked. Yet you answered affirmatively. His low baritone voice rang in your ears like the song of a siren, luring you into a deadly trap. His devilish smirk only confirmed that he was up to no good.

“Come to my palace tomorrow by twilight. I will be expecting you to be on time” he finished. He took your hand and left a lingering kiss on the back, his golden irises piercing right through you. Your mouth hanged open and a deep shade of red graced your cheeks, your breathing heavy and laboured. “The smallest amount of tease and you are a mess”, you scolded yourself. How are you to handle what he holds in store for you when the sun goes down tomorrow?

______________________________

The colours of dusk had painted the sky by the time you made your way to his castle the day after. You tried to mentally prepare yourself, but you knew was to no avail when facing a kitsune’s tricks. He always was so unpredictable, but even you had to admit it was one of his greatest charms. You smiled to yourself as you finally reached the front gates greeted by Kyubei. Mitsuhide’s loyal vassal lead you to his room, on your way there noticing the suspicious lack of servants in the mansion. Alerted, with your heart pounding in your ribcage you finally arrived at his door and entered. The room smelled of incense, smelled like him. The heavy scent engulfed you and snaked it’s way in your senses, making you highly aware of his imposing presence.

“Thank you Kyubei. You may leave”, he said calmy. The palms of your hand began to sweat as pressure and excitement began to build up inside of you. 

He stayed seated at the floor cleaning his tanegashima. You remained standing there, entranced by his long fingers working deftly on the rifle and his long, white eyelashes obscuring his amber eyes. 

“Are you so enthralled by my presence that your forgot how to speak, my witty little girl?”. He chuckled at your surprised gasp as you were snapped out of your daze. He was, indeed, a feast for sore eyes, his ethereal beauty bewitching, rendering you speechless. But you would not let him win the game, not so quickly. You feigned annoyance, your lips forming a pout for emphasis.

“You asked me to be here to play a game and I agreed. Shouldn’t we start?”, you inquired, unwilling to relent to his teasing. He cocked an eyebrow as his gaze focused on you. He placed his gun on the table and rose to his feet, sauntering your way. His statuesque figure felt even more towering as he came to a stop right in front of you, his fingers reaching up to lightly graze your bottom lip. You felt your body quiver at his touch, yet you commanded your eyes to stay trained on his, drowning in his pools of gold.

“Correct. You came here after accepting my invitation for a game. Yet you lost the game before it even began”, he explained. Your audible gulp echoed in the room and your eyes widened in shock. He bent down and spoke in a low, mellow voice right next to your ear. “You see, princess, coming here meant your defeat. And you fell right into the trap… straight into the fox’s claws”. Electricity ran down your spine as his breath tickled your skin. A trembling sigh escaped your lips and you held onto a fistful of his kimono to keep yourself standing. “Y-You…you are truly horrible…Mitsuhide”, you stammered, his smile only widened at the sound of your grumbling.

“I have done nothing…yet” he hinted. He pulled back to look into your eyes. “Facing defeat means absolute submission and obedience to me”. His hands cupped both of your cheeks, his eyes soft and gentle. “But in order to proceed, I shall need your trust as well. Can you promise me that, little one?”. His last words have left you stunned. He never looked or touched with such tenderness and it only left you craving more. You barely managed to confirm your agreement with a nod, entranced by the way he looked at you so lovingly.

His eyes lit up with desire before his lips crashed on yours with urgency and need. You tightened your grip as your knees grew weak, moaning helplessly against him. His tongue dipped inside your mouth, demanding surrender as it intertwined with yours in a battle for dominance.

Mitsuhide broke the kiss and took a step back as you both panted for air. He made quick work of your obi, throwing it at the side, leaving your kimono to hang open from your shoulders.

“Kneel and place your hands behind your back, my dear”, he ordered and you obeyed, sitting on your knees with your chin up as you marvelled at his face. 

“Such a good girl”. You felt your core clenching at the sound of his deep, husky voice, your breathing quickening in sync with your heartbeat. His eyes stayed focus on yours as the pad of his index finger grazed your upper and lower lip, coaxing an unwilling mewl from you. You knew he was messing with your head, and at that moment you felt brave enough to pay him in kind. You gently took hold of his wrist and wrapped your tongue around his finger, sucking it playfully. You hummed in satisfaction when you heard him draw a sharp breath, proud of the reaction you managed to draw from him. He removed his hand from you grasp and cupped your chin to lift your face up again.

“It seems your docility was short-lived, little mouse. But tell me, where did you ever learn to do such naughty things?”. His smirk deviously at your act of provocation. 

“I believe punishment is needed for this misbehaving princess” he said. He turned on his heel and took the gun from the tabletop before returning his attention back to you. You would lie if you didn’t admit you were scared at that moment, yet you knew you could trust him blindly. “I would never point a loaded gun at you, my darling. So do not fret” he assured you with a smile. He slowly traced the muzzle of his riffle across your exposed skin, beginning from your neck and gliding down your chest. He pushed your kimono aside to reveal your bare bosom and brushed the tip over your hardened nipples.

The sensation of the cold metal against your sensitive skin made it hard for you to restrain your cries of pleasure and avoid shutting your eyes. The rich fabric of your kimono slipped and pooled around your thighs, leaving you completely exposed to his gilded gaze.

Υour eyes fluttered open again, greeted by the view of his prominent erection, unable to be concealed underneath his hakama. The sight made you lick your lips unconsciously, thrilled from the effect you induced on him.

The feeling of the muzzle being dragged on your abdomen and between your legs brought you back to your senses. Mitsuhide slid the barrel further in, making sure it cause friction on your clit. Your breaths became shallow, fast and pleading whines rolled off your tongue. You chanted his name as he continue to tease your core in slow circular motions, your legs spreading wider in a desperation. He increased the pace only slightly and ground your hips on the barrel to bring yourself closer to release.

“Ahn...ngh...Mitsu-hide..” you whimpered frustrated.

Mitsuhide smirked noticing your exasperation and halted his movements. He drew his gun away gently, marvelling at the coat of your arousal smeared all over. He stared at you straight in the eye as he glided his tongue across the barrel, gather your essence. You forgot how to breath as the scene unfolded before you, so deliciously lascivious, making your heart almost jump out of your chest.

He let out throaty chuckle before his skilful hands removed his own garments, revealing his lean and solid physic to your hungry eyes. You drank at the sight of his sculpted figure, looking both sturdy yet soft under the lamplight. Spellbound eyes fell on his unveiled erection, your mouth unconsciously opening slightly. His hand reached the back of your head and took a fistful of your hair, your gaze drawn up to him.

“Open wide, little mouse” he order and you were more than happy to comply. 

You gave his sizeable shaft a slow, long lick, then sucked at the tip teasing as your right hand attending to the rest of his length. You took him deeper and deeper in your mouth, bobbing your head back and forth at a gradually increasing speed. Your eyes never strayed from his face, taking mental notes of what made his stoic expression shutter, giving it’s way to one of please. His cheeks were barely tinted red, his breathing quicker than before and his eyes blow black with lust. 

He gently bucked his hips against your face, his cock reaching almost the end of your throat, making you grope his rear for stability. You hummed with satisfaction when you felt his palpable throbbing inside your mouth, signalling he was getting closer to the edge. However, before you could minister to his release, he slip his cock out of your mouth in one swift motion. You looked at him while you wiped the saliva from your chin.

He knelt down before you and cupped your cheeks, pulling you towards him. Your surprised gasp was swallowed by his hungry lips crashing on yours, tongues entangled and hands exploring every inch of the body. Mitsuhide hooked his arms beneath your hips, lifting and pressing you on him before he lowered you on his hardened member. He buried himself up to the hilt, your moans mingling in harmony and then immediately pushed you down on the tatami. He drove himself inside of you hard and fast, his mouth nipping and sucking your neck, leaving red marks flourishing in it’s wake.

“Scream for me, little mouse. No one is here to hear you. Your cries are only for me to hear…”, he purred in your ear before he bend down to suck and tug at the swell of your breasts. 

You indulged him, calling out for him, letting him know how his cock stretched you so exquisitely well, each thrust more divine than the one before and begging him not stop. You felt his body tense against you, his breathing more rugged and his grunts louder. 

He lifted his upper body and held you tightly by the waist, plunging deeper and rougher inside your welcoming cunt. You wrapped yours legs around his waist and your hands arounds his wrists as you arched off the tatami, you impending climax shaking your core.

“Cum for me, my love..Show me you are mine!”, he moaned in a voice almost delirious from pleasure. The coil inside you snapped at his command and waves of pleasure washed over you as your core palpitated, coating his shaft with your arousal. The sound of skinslapping continued as you rode your high, Mitsuhide’s thrusts becoming sloppier as he experienced his own release, filling you with his essence. You both toppled on the floor, heaving for air, skin glistening with sweat. “How is it possible for him to look even more beautiful?”, you mused as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. Soon after you felt him move, kissing his way up ’til he reached your lips. He kissed you sweetly, slowly, relishing in the feeling of affection.  He drew away and looked you in the eye, his fox-like, bewitching features laced with deviltry.

“I’m afraid, our tryst has not fully satiated my desire, little mouse”, he uttered lightly, capturing your bottom nip and tugging it roughly, coaxing a hoarse whimper from you. “I fear I must consume you whole, if I wish to satisfy my yearning for you”.

[miximax-hell]

Happy Goku Day, everyone!!

I checked and, miraculously, I still have followers on this blog. In fact, I’ve gained some since the last time I posted, for some reason! I’m not going to question it, though. Just... bless. But, hey, long time no see! As usual!

This time, I’m going back to my roots. The first drawings I posted on this blog were meant to show my love towards original Raimon, and it’s never a bad time to remind you all that I still adore these kids. Especially now that my friend @dust-monsters-under-my-bed​ has reminded me of them. Go check her art, btw! She’s not very active on Tumblr, but you can find her art on Twitter right here: https://twitter.com/rachelmonart

Anyway, she’s watching Inazuma Eleven for the first time and she’s made me think again about how much love these kids deserve, BECAUSE THEY SURE GOT NONE FROM HINO. DAMN YOU, HINO. So, today, let’s talk about the one and only IE character whose feet are classified as mass destruction weapons, who decided to borrow power from someone who will make you all question me, my logic and my tastes: Yamhan (or, as he is known in the west, Tiencha), THE FUSION OF YAMCHA AND TENSHINHAN FROM DRAGON BALL.

Introducing ShoYamHan! More on him under the cut.

So, first of all, how have you all been? I suppose many of you, like myself, are being told to stay at home to fight this situation. I salute all of you who do your best to stay safe and not help spread anything. It’s a very necessary fight, even if it can be boring at times. Many of us have friends or relatives fighting on the frontline, though (unless you yourself are the doctor or nurse friend!), and we hopefully know that staying at home is a small price to pay.

As for me, I got a job in December and lost it last month, so... yeah. It’s not been great. Still, something I’ve been working hard on for a while should be released soon and that’s so exciting! MY NAME WILL FINALLY BE ON SOMETHING’S CREDITS AND I CAN’T WAIT FOR IT TO BE UP.

But, anyway, back to business!

Rachel suggested I talk about the reasons behind this particular miximax, and considering it makes for a perfect parallel with my first posts, where I talked about the reasons behind Max’s and Kageno’s miximaxes, I’m all up for it! But, this time, I will have to do something new: explain WHO THE HECK YAMHAN IS. So let’s start with a picture of this handsome devil.

As most of you hopefully know, this project is about miximaxing Inazuma characters with video game characters. No anime, movies or anything else. Only and exclusively video games. Dragon Ball has probably spawned all those things, but it started as a manga, so you’d be right to think it most definitely does not qualify for this project. And, indeed, Dragon Ball doesn't. What DOES qualify, however, are Dragon Ball characters exclusive, or first introduced, in a video game. And that’s exactly the case we’re dealing with here!

Growing up, I loved Dragon Ball games. Even before I watched the show properly, in fact! I would go to my friend’s house, who was a fan of the show, and we'd play the Dragon Ball Budokai games nonstop with absolutely zero regrets. Those were some great times. And once I came to know the source material, the game that blew my mind the most was Dragon Ball Budokai 2. Was it the best one? Not necessarily. Is it my favourite? Not by a long shot. Still, it was the most creative! Most games follow the story of DBZ, which, obviously, is always the same. But Budokai 2 wasn’t afraid to do new things. Its story mode resembled a tabletop game and it was more than happy to deviate from the source material in some really fun ways; most notably, with exclusive fusions.

Budokai 2 introduced us all to Yamhan, the fusion of Yamcha and Tenshinhan, two long forgotten characters in the series, as they (and especially poor Yamcha) didn’t do anything especially relevant past... well, past the original Dragon Ball. As a champion of the unloved, that blew my mind. There were other fun things in Budokai 2, but what fascinated me and stayed in my thoughts for years to come was Yamhan. It was just such a cool concept. Two underdogs who had fallen into obscurity fusing to create a much greater warrior!

Of course, Yamhan isn’t the only videogame exclusive characters in Dragon Ball. He isn’t the first, nor the last. Yamhan isn’t the strongest, nor the weakest. But I haven’t played FighterZ nor Fusions (yet), nor pretty much any game that wasn’t on PS2 or GBA. And even if I had, I doubt Android 21 or any of the HUNDREDS of combinations available in Fusions would captivate me and my imagination as much as Yamhan did back in the day. Yamhan was a fusion, which is something that has always fascinated me to begin with. I MEAN, THIS ENTIRE BLOG IS ABOUT FUSING CHARACTERS, SO I THINK IT’S PRETTY OBVIOUS LMAO But he wasn’t just one among hundreds. He was this very specific, never-seen-before, cool as heck and usable fusion. Like, wow. That was wild for me. Sign me up, man.

But, you know, I try not to let that sway me too much. Of course, I wouldn’t likely pick a character I hate for a miximax, but, still, my preferences aren’t everything. And choosing Yamhan begs a question that I have already alluded to: if Yamhan isn’t the strongest game-exclusive DB character out there, then, why him? Well, the answer to that is related to the biggest problem posed by the sheer concept of miximaxing with a Dragon Ball character:

Power escalation.

It’s no exaggeration to say that Goku is, pretty much, the strongest character that has ever played the lead in any manga, and one of the strongest fictional characters ever, period. By the end of the Dragon Ball Super anime, he has EXCEEDED THE POWER OF MANY LITERAL GODS AND IS (or has been) A CANDIDATE TO BECOME ONE. You may prefer One Piece, or Naruto, or anything else, but few things reach the astronomical, reality-bending scope of Dragon Ball. Not to say DB is the best series--I’m just saying that it’s so out of control at this point (and I love it). But, of course, the stronger Goku is, the stronger the villains need to be, and Goku ends up becoming EVEN stronger than said villains. Rinse and repeat dozens of times until you can make an entire universe disappear by raising your hand.

Now, imagine applying that out-of-this-world power escalation to a context where the power balance isn’t so outrageous. For example, Inazuma Eleven.

Goku wriggling in his sleep is more powerful than Zeus, and an accidental sneeze would smash all of Ixal Fleet to smithereens. Do you see what this would do to the balance? It would ruin it completely, as anyone who miximaxed with Goku would be immediately a one-person army able to defeat ANY opponent--and if the opponent were to be EVEN GREATER than Goku, well, the rest simply wouldn’t stand a chance. Ever. Remember: the point of this project isn’t to create perfect and unbeatable players, and I’m not trying to prioritize anyone or make them noticeably stronger than anyone else just because I happen to like X more than Y. That completely ruins the tension and the fun (and my attempts to create justice in this unfair universe). The point is to come up with a balanced team full of players with strong points, but with flaws, too, that complement each other when they play together against stronger enemies.

So, if we go with Dragon Ball, and I love Dragon Ball WAY too much to not include it in this project in some way, we have to be careful and avoid overdoing it. Balance is key. And now that you know why I didn’t just choose the fusion between Beerus and Whis or something crazy like that, I’ll move on to explain what makes Yamhan a very interesting option. I SWEAR THERE ARE SOME ACTUAL REASONS.

First of all, the very concept. You know, Yamcha and Tenshinhan fused to created Yamhan, and now, Shourin is fusing with a fusion. That’s just... hecking cool. I won’t lie--my preferences towards Yamhan didn’t tip the scales towards making this happen, but my preferences towards FUSIONCEPTION totally did. XD But there’s more, thankfully.

From the very beginning, I knew I wanted a fighting game character to miximax with Shourin because it fits his theme best. I’m not big on fighting games, though, so it was quite tough. Especially because just any fighting game wouldn’t do it. Shourin is a martial artist. As I mentioned at the very beginning of this post, his feet are his weapons. His entire body is a weapon, really. If I were to suddenly miximax him with some character who wields a sword or an axe, for example, it would be a complete disservice to Shourin. Original Raimon members don’t have much going on for themselves, and I’m going to cut or ignore the ONE thing that makes one of them special? Not in a zillion years. Shourin needs to fight with his body. That, of course, cuts many characters already: pretty much the entire roster of Soul Calibur, many members of Mortal Kombat, many from games like Skullgirls (which I still want to try to represent here in the future, because @lumaga worked on it and it makes me happy just because of that), etc. For a very long time, I considered someone like Ryu, from Street Fighter, but then it hit me: I have never played Street Fighter and I don’t want to include him just because I know what a Hadouken is. It’d be... cheap. And fake. Thankfully, as I also mentioned earlier, I played LOTS of Budokai back in the day and I am an actual fan, so I don’t have to pretend to know what the heck I’m talking about. XD And, thankfully, most of the characters in DB games fight with their bare fists and legs, so they perfectly fit my needs. Yamhan is, of course, no exception.

Now comes my favourite reason to choose Yamhan and not, well, literally any other DB game-exclusive character. And that reason is style.

Remember that power escalation thing I mentioned earlier? Well, it’s epic, but it comes with a big disadvantage: power ends up becoming much more important than skill. Early Dragon Ball was very focused on fighting styles. There was an ongoing feud between the Turtle School and the Crane School, who taught different martial arts to fight in different ways, and there was a big plot involving which one was superior. It wasn’t just about who was strongest, but about who fought better. With time, that disappeared, though. Even though battles became flashier, aerial and more spectacular, they were much more indistinct. Sure, there were gimmicks like “heh, I have a tail and I will sometimes hit you with it,” or “I will try to hit your face with the palm of my hand instead of my fist for some unspecified reason,” but that isn’t... much. You just see very fast people avoiding equally as fast punches to the face. And Goku, the main character, only shows some style when he adopts a fighting pose BEFORE fighting. Once the punches start flying, it’s all a race to see who can hit the other the hardest in the gut to make them spit blood. Cool nonetheless, but still.

Ironically, though, it’s two of the least relevant characters who never really lost those styles that made them unique when they were first introduced to the series. And those are, of course, Yamcha and Tenshinhan.

Yamcha joins the Turtle School and learns techniques as classic as the Kamehameha, but he had his own style way before that, based on attacking and tearing enemies apart like a wolf would. This is best represented by his signature move, the Rougafuufuuken or Wolf Fang Fist. He never drops this style, but instead builds up on it through his training to make it even fiercer.

Tenshinhan has different things going for himself. First of all, he is a hybrid between a human being and a civilization known as the Three-Eyed People, which grants him powers such as growing extra arms from his back or dividing in 4. Not just moving so fast that it looks like there’s four of him, but ACTUALLY dividing into 4 separate bodies. In terms of skills, he was a Crane School student, but when he realised the wrong of his master’s doings, he decided to start training and developing on his own. Basically, a path that mirrors Yamcha’s, but both lead to unique fighting styles unlike anyone else’s in this universe. And, most importantly, none of them depend on appendixes that are always there, like the aforementioned tail, so they totally work for us here!

Shourin is a proper martial artist. He wouldn’t want to make himself crazy strong as much as he would like to refine his technique and learn new moves and tricks. Martial arts are about discipline, self-control, skill and protection. He would take a cool-ass combo based on a wolf’s moves over earth-shattering strength any day of the week, hence why the fact that these two have so many techniques to offer is so appealing.

Finally, and probably least, is the design idea that immediately came to my mind when I thought of a miximax between Shourin and Yamhan. Historically, I have had to work with characters like Fudou, who are usually mostly bald and they miximax with someone with hair, thus making for some very... difficult things to figure out. But the idea of miximaxing Shourin, who is mostly bald, with Yamhan, who is ALSO mostly bald, was just golden and too good to ignore. And the fact that Yamhan has three eyes GIVES ME AN EXCUSE TO ADD A THIRD CROSS-SHAPED EYE ON SHOURIN’S FOREHEAD. IF A MIXIMAX BETWEEN BALD PEOPLE WAS GOLDEN, THIS IS OUTRIGHT PLATINUM.

Shourin would've probably looked a lot less like a joke if he had had hair covering his entire head or if I had at least given him proper eyes... but that would no longer be the Shourin I love. Not to mention that it’s very likely that Shourin willingly shaves his head to begin with (even if the ponytail ain’t doing him any favours--but that’s just Inazuma logic, so let’s not look too much into it), just like Tenshinhan or Krillin do, so he would probably be happier to keep that, uh, advantage. Relative advantage, but still.

As a side note, though, we can’t forget the balance. When Yamcha and Tenshinhan fuse, they undoubtedly become the strongest human being in the DB universe, overcoming the one who is usually strongest: Krillin. A fusion is always greater than its parts individually, and Yamcha and Tenshinhan aren’t so far away from Krillin to begin with, so that’s not even a question. Regardless, they still don’t have that overwhelming and surreal strength from other characters, so we still don’t get into absolutely OP territory. Yamhan is strong enough to provide Shourin with a power that can make a real difference without completely putting him above everyone else.

Sadly, Yamhan doesn’t really have a backstory, as he’s a game-exclusive character that, honestly, was probably only there for a laugh. That means there is no deep connection between them. We can, however, make obvious connections between Shourin, an aspiring martial artist whose dream, as stated in IE2, was to study at Manyuuji (Kogure’s school) for their focus on martial arts, and is now trying to become stronger to protect what he loves, and two skilled warriors who have been training nonstop under different masters and on their own for basically their entire lives to keep becoming stronger and more skilled in order to defend what’s precious to them and, simply, to be the best version of themselves they can be. Upon seeing such dedicated warriors and artists, Shourin would undoubtedly want to learn from them and, if necessary, borrow their strength too.

Or he might just fanboy and ask for their autographs, honestly. I sure as heck want Yamcha’s. And his baseball card.

[anddontbelat]

The Ultimate Scroll Saw

Odds are, in case you're understanding this – you're taking a gander at buying a parchment saw for an undertaking that different saws can't exactly tingle – or maybe you've bought one, and need to take a gander at a beginning aide so as to start your parchment saw profession.

We have to explain before we proceed – what precisely is a parchment saw?

A parchment saw is a saw which is utilized for cutting perplexing shapes and examples, for example, bended lines and complex plans, with a concentration upon its artfulness as opposed to control.

As the parchment saw is outfitted towards a specific range of abilities, it's utilized in ventures that require these structures, as opposed to the concentration upon power in which numerous different saws are based on.

Stuck for time? Not an issue. We've made a fast diagram underneath for your benefit:

Utilized for their exactness and precision, scroll saws are ideal for those expecting to create complicated plans

Parchment saws have a lot of center highlights, table, sharp edge and arm type, just as extra highlights to upgrade your work

Parchment saw cutting edges come in stuck and pinless structures, in light of your model/plan or parchment saw

Extra highlights, for example, lights, air blowers, variable speed and edge pressure handles can be found on scroll saws

Sharp edges are found inside 8 explicit sorts, and can be utilized on various materials pending on their make

The Basic Features

To begin with the comprehension of how a parchment saw functions, we first need to take a gander at its separate highlights, both establishment and extra.

In the same way as other force apparatuses, a parchment saw has a lot of fundamental highlights, which are all around found all through all parchment saws.

The stripped down, the basics – whatever you like to call them, are the highlights that, without – the parchment saw basically couldn't do what it does.

For the parchment saw, these highlights are the table, arm type, and furthermore the sharp edge.

We'll be taking a gander at them intently beneath don't as well, stress in case you're not up to speed with them – we'll do that for you.

Table

Obviously, it's horrible having a saw without having the option to hold your pieces while working.

Fortunately, the parchment saw incorporates its own tabletop to work upon, and this is normally made of aluminum or iron.

Parchment saw-purchasing guide

A significant angle to note is the term, 'throat size'. This is the thing that you can discover through the paths of your tool shop or on the web, and this is one of the fundamental highlights which will separate a parchment saw from the others accessible available.

The throat size is the term given to the measure of room from the cutting edge to the rear of the table's surface, which gives a guide of the extents of material you're ready to work with.

Parchment saws can be found with throat measures that go somewhere in the range of 16" and 20", in spite of the fact that there are models which fit outside this range.

Another intriguing purpose of note is the slope, which is the edge the table can tilt either left or right. The slope, which is ordinarily to a 45° edge, can make for some intriguing structures, adding another measurement to your cutting game.

The table is the thing that you'll be utilizing to put your materials upon, as you're making cuts. It's imperative to keep this in a decent condition, as any trash or harms can influence your nature of work, and harm this while doing as such.

Obviously, it's just characteristic that after some time scratches will happen, yet a cautious eye will take out any harms from occuring later on.

Arm Type

The arm is the association between the engine and your work, which mounts the edge and takes into account slices to be made.

Parchment Saws are accessible in three kinds of arm, which are a C Arm, Parallel Type, and Parallel-Linked arm.

C Type Arm

A C type arm sort of parchment saw contains one rotate point, which permits the cutting edge to move in an upwards and downwards position, anyway because of the one turn point – it moves in a slight curve.

C-arm scroll saws are the most forceful of the arm types accessible, as they give a quicker cut.

Because of this, C-arm scroll saws are generally found in encountered carpenters' inventories, as they require a lot of ability to give an elevated level of exactness.

Equal Type Arm

An equal arm contains two arms which compromise with one another, that contain a turn point in each arm.

This permits the arm to travel all the while, which gives the name to the 'equal sort arm'.

With the two arms, the lower arm is connected to the engine, which it's associated with under the table of your parchment saw.

The upper arm runs over the head of the table, containing a mount at the front of the arm for the edge to be associated.

The two arms meet at the rear of the parchment saw, which takes into account the sharp edge to move in a responding movement, upwards and advances.

Equal Linked Arm

The equal connected arm is the most current adaptation of arm type to be found in scroll saws.

The purpose behind their turn of events and late passage into the parchment saw arm variety is because of the negligible vibration the connected arms give. With such an exact instrument, this is a distinct advantage.

The edge of the parchment saw is held between an upper arm, and the lower arm. These arms turn, in answer to the responding movement of the connection, which permits the cutting edge to imitate this movement inside its cut.

The arms of an equal connected arm are a lot shorter than a C or equal arm, which bring about a front-to-back development that is seen distinctly in this arm type.

The equal connected arm can be found in some very good quality parchment saws accessible, and like the elective arm types – accompany the two its upsides and downsides.

Cutting edges

Without a cutting edge, you won't have the option to make any cuts. Straightforward, isn't that so?

It essentially is.

A parchment saw is in the same class as its edge, and there are a wide range of types accessible.

What-You-Should-Know-About-Scroll-Saw-Blades

I've separated them all through this article, and we'll be investigating the setups of the cutting edges from a more profound perspective later in this article.

Right off the bat, nonetheless, we can begin with this.

There are two kinds of edges, stuck and pinless cutting edges, which we will be investigating in the segment underneath.

Stuck Blades

Stuck cutting edges are found in more seasoned models of parchment saws, anyway they are as yet discovered today in many parchment saws – as most models can acknowledge both stuck and pinless sharp edges.

Stuck cutting edges, similar to their name proposes, utilizes pins to hold the sharp edge into place.

It's very simple to change these cutting edges, as they are held into place by a holding snare, associated with a cross-piece which rests inside the snare.

To deliver these cutting edges, it's as straightforward as modifying the strain of the edge, which will at that point be effectively expelled from the snare.

Pinless Blades

Pinless edges, similar to their stuck partners, are additionally very simple to supplant.

They should be strung through the piece you're taking a shot at, interfacing into the openings which are situated above and underneath the table.

When you've finished this, they should be fixed at the two closures to guarantee they are associated appropriately.

Whichever cutting edge type your parchment saw acknowledges – there are no drawbacks or preferences to either over the other.

Extra Features

So we've secured the center highlights, presently it's an ideal opportunity to investigate extra highlights and embellishments which can be found on a parchment saw.

These highlights have their utilizations which improve certain parts of the electric saw and its yield, so don't hesitate to peruse underneath on these to perceive what might be ideal to suit you.

Variable Speed Option

This extra component is fantastically valuable for a parchment saw.

In case you're utilizing various materials and furthermore extraordinary thickness levels of these materials, a general set speed won't generally work.

This is the place a variable speed alternative becomes an integral factor. They are generally found as a switch on the parchment saw, or as a handle which can be changed in accordance with the speed you might want to reach.

With this, numerous variable speed alternatives likewise accompany a lock setting – permitting you to bolt onto a specific speed for the length of your meeting.

Edge Tension Knob/Lever

The edge strain alludes to how free/close the sharp edge is, the point at which it's mounted from the head of the table by the arm, to the base of the table.

Many experienced parchment saw clients can alter the strain of their sharp edges absent a lot of issue, because of endless hours spent on the machine, and knowing the intricate details of their parchment saw and edges.

Producers are currently presenting sharp edge strain modification highlights, so as to expel the problem and disarray that edge pressure fixing can bring.

With these, the sharp edge pressure alteration is found as a handle or a trigger. These have a keyed brace which can be extricated and fixed for the right strain, which is much simpler than physically doing as such, wouldn't you say?

Flexible Lighting

A greater part of parchment saws presently accompany a movable light, which is ideal for enlightening obscured workspaces.

Likewise, in addition to the fact that it provides a superior light for your general condition, yet in addition for your point by point cuts – giving you greater perceivability when taking a shot at the most troublesome of shapes.

These lights can be fitted in either a LED light, or as a bulb – pending on your inclination.

A greater part of these lights are customizable, with some being fixed.

Air Blowers

Air blowers are likewise another significant extra element which is found on most of parchment saws. These are actually as they sound, a little cylinder which can be balanced (in certain saws) to overwhelm overabundance dust which is made during the cutting procedure.

This improves your perceivability when chipping away at your piece, and furthermore keeps you from taking in any hurtful materials or residue.

Some air blowers are likewise connected to tidy ports, which gather the residue made during a meeting, which is unbelievably helpful when you consider how untidy a parchment saw can be on occasion through the du

[magioftheseas]

Chiaki & Yasuke

Summary: Nanami Chiaki’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. Yep. They’re almost completely different from canon.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language and references to gore/hospital stuff because Matsuda.

Notes: I was just super into the mood to write more FTEs and I went for Nanami since her relationship with Matsuda is fun. It’s also one I noticed the most people (about three) voicing interest in. It’s pretty drastically different but I still tried to make them parallel the original somewhat. Do the two of them actually get closer? Well, I won’t give you the answer so easily. Anyway Nanami talks like a House of Dead 2 character. She does.

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, A, B, start.

Matsuda woke to the sound of furious button presses. The hotel air was as stale as ever. His neck fucking hurt from how he had slouched against the couch. At the very least, his manga had been carefully set down on the table, but he nevertheless found himself irritated at how he just fell asleep while reading.

Just because I got tired of my cottage. The hell was I thinking?

And that creepy otaku was happily booping away on the tabletop game. Although Matsuda was pretty damn sure the lobby had been empty when he entered. He’s sure because when he goes out, he goes out of his way to avoid people if he can help it.

And yet, the gamer chick is here. When he’s sure she has a million other things to do. How irritating.

Huffing, Matsuda pushed himself up. His neck throbbed and creaked and he groaned loudly as he tried to adjust it. He might need a neck pillow or something. Anything.

“Ugh. How annoying,” he mutters, grabbing his book. “I wasted all that time on a shitty nap. I doubt my brain flushed out the chemicals properly. No, I’m sure it didn’t. Great.”

Stretching doesn’t alleviate the aching of his joints, but he’s ready to head out regardless. He pops his lips as he starts with his best foot forward, only for someone to call out.

“Hey, why don’t you play a game with me before you go?”

Matsuda paused, turning to Nanami with a withered, unimpressed look.

“Just one,” she said, not looking at him but at the stupid fucking screen. “Or two. Or three. Or four. Maybe more.”

The fuck? Oh. The hell kind of bizarro world is this?

He thinks that, he thinks that, but he throws his hands up in preemptive defeat.

“Sure. Fine. Why the hell not.”

And that was the start of it. As well as the select, the downs, the ups, and the game.

--

The losing screen flashes in his face. He’s not surprised at it. He wasn’t surprised the first time.

“Another round,” Nanami droned at him. “You didn’t even try in that last one, Matsuda-kun.”

“What do you mean? My strategy of just pressing random buttons hasn’t changed a bit,” he pointed out. “I don’t have the time or brain space to learn the technicalities of this cheap-ass fighter game. Especially when the characters are all so ugly.”

“You consistently pick the same one,” she replied. “If it didn’t matter at all, you’d change things up a little.”

Matsuda stares darkly at the character in question as if it had betrayed him. What met his glare was an annoying innocent smile obscured by strings of red.

“I guess this fugly speaks to me on some level. Not that I’m remotely interested in what it has to say.” He selects them just as before. “Whatever. If you’re that fucking bored, then I guess I’ll pick the stage. Although does it really matter? They’re just different backdrops.”

“It helps with atmosphere, I think.”

You think. Games are supposed to be your fucking forte.

He ended up selecting the gothic horror-styled one. Not for any particular reason beyond it feeling right at the time. He immediately started his losing strategy of random button mashing, and while he got a few hits in due to unpredictability, Nanami Chiaki was perfectly capable of wiping the floor with him. To call it one-sided would be generous.

Another defeat. Another loss. Another smug winning animation of Nanami’s character, cheering and prancing around like a fucking deer.

He pressed start to skip through, but the screen lingered as the other player hadn’t done the same. So he waited because whatever, almost drifted off, and snapped back to attention when Nanami was the one who yawned.

“Am I boring you?” he asked, huffing. “What did you expect? Obviously, I’m not a match against you. This is your field, not mine. Or was this part of a sad attempt at psychoanalysis?”

“Um...” Nanami rubbed at her eye. “I do love games. I love playing games. And playing games with others is fun. It’s fun even with it’s with you.”

Even when it’s you. He wonders if he should be flattered. Ultimately, he doesn’t really care. He shrugs.

“Games are as good as a recreational activity as any, I suppose,” he mumbled. “But still between games and manga, the manga is the obvious victor for me. I’d rather not have to use my head unnecessarily when it comes to entertainment.”

“Unnecessarily?” Nanami parrots.

“Because gaming requires an engagement unlike any other,” Matsuda explained, perhaps a bit snappier than needed. “It’s interactive. The game cannot proceed without a player. It’s more...versatile, I suppose? That’s the main appeal of it, and I definitely see the value there, but, still.” He shook his head. “Not for me.”

“So that’s why you’re not really engaging,” Nanami muttered, puffing her cheeks. “Not really, I think.”

“If I asked you to go reading with me, you’d definitely fall asleep before finishing a chapter.” He paused for a moment, mulling that over. “But I guess maybe you’d put more of a show at participating.”

“Maybe. Books are okay. I guess.”

Matsuda twitched a little.

“Video games are okay. I guess.”

“But video games encapsulate all kinds of experiences,” Nanami said. “So I think you’re being a bit close-minded. There’s surely a game out there that speaks clearly to Matsuda-kun’s interests. Maybe we should give that a try.”

Matsuda perked. Nanami had clicked start so that the screen could change, but her gaze was more intense than before. Matsuda couldn’t help but let out a snort.

“I don’t doubt that, but I’m still not exactly interested in playing through it.” He waved his hand. “I’d rather watch someone else play.”

“I guess I can play it, then?” Nanami’s head tilted. “I guess we’ll both have fun that way. I think so, anyway. So, let’s go find that game. Um. There are simulations of surgeries.” Matsuda remembered those. He remembered those well.

I’ve actually played through those for training. It’s meant to ease you into the idea of cutting open a real person, but it doesn’t fully capture that. Doesn’t capture the feel of pulsing at your fingertips, the weight of that person’s mind and life on your shoulders. How a person can twitch and break if poked the wrong way.

And with all that in mind, he was really, incredibly, exhausted.

“Not right now. I’m going back to take an actual fucking nap.” He stands, and he does a half-assed salute. “Sayonara, bye-bye.”

“Later, then?” Nanami asked. She didn’t even sound hopeful. It was cold and robotic, like a coworker after a long, long day. It lowkey pissed him off, so he didn’t even respond.

--

“Ohhhh, it’s Matsuda-kuuuuun.”

“It’s meeeee.” Matsuda waved his hand dully. “I didn’t have anything better to do so here I aaaaaam.”

“Yaaaaay,” Nanami droned with no mirth whatsoever. “So, let’s go to my cottage, then. I dug around through my games and I found stuff that aligns with Matsuda-kun’s interests, I think. I also asked Usamonomi for other stuff.”

“You can just ask the rabbit for shit like that?” he asked, blinking. “Well, shit. I should’ve been taking advantage of that a long time ago. I could’ve cut down on time spent within the proximity of other people.”

Nanami blinks back at him. She already looks bored. And tired. What a mood.

“Were you serious about finding a game I’d like?”

“Absolutely,” she answered immediately with quite the serious expression. “Games are everything. If you can’t find a game you enjoy, what are you even doing with your life?”

“Other things.”

“Come on,” Nanami insisted. “I will drag you if I have to. Probably.”

I don’t want to go but having someone remark on the weird gaming otaku trying to shove me around isn’t exactly my idea of a better time. The best time would be reading manga. And not going crazy due to a lack of being able to work. God.

“Okay. Sure.”

He could only shrug his shoulders and move on along. And make faces at Nanami’s back all the while.

They got to her cottage easily, and Nanami was even walking a bit faster than usual to make the trip shorter. She had to dig around for her key, but it was only a minute before she unlocked the door and beckoned him within her gaming domain. Matsuda, unaffected as ever, just muttered platitudes as he followed in after her.

“Please excuse me.”

He scowled as he had to step over several cables and nearly flipped over the rug that happened to be the same shape as the hair clip Nanami wore. How obsessive was this chick? Even he didn’t have a specially designed rug. And the shape was impractical, too, it pissed him off.

God, what would life be without such useless luxuries, indeed.

“Ba, ba, baaa,” Nanami droned in a poor non-attempt to drill up anticipation. Before Matsuda could ask, she had shoved one of the handheld consoles into his face. It was pearly pink and well-worn, and also flicked on with the screen blinding. Squinting, Matsuda first heard the steady, synthesized heartbeat before he saw something pulsing in the depths of painfully light cyan blue. On closer inspection it was a heart, tubes and all. How quaint.

His eyes flickered over the title printed on the screen, and he exhaled.

“Yeah. That’s a video game alright.”

“You can play it,” Nanami said. “Or you can watch me play it. I guess.”

“I’ll watch you.”

“Okay.”

Nanami plopped onto the ground. She patted the spot beside her but Matsuda elected to just keep standing. He had no interest in getting overly cozy, that just...made him feel uncomfortable.

This chick in general makes me feel uncomfortable.

And she had already started the game. She was utterly fixated on the screen immediately, even when all she was doing was scrolling through dialogue and watching inane cutscenes. The music droned on, and Matsuda wondered if Nanami would notice him just leaving.

Tempting idea. But if I’m going to waste my time here, I better fucking commit.

He noticed that she used a stylus to navigate the various screens. It was definitely old, but in good shape. Hadn’t even been gnawed on the way most of Matsuda’s pens had been. If anything, Nanami had no idling or ticks as she played. It was as if every atom of her being couldn’t focus on anything else.

Creepy.

Really creepy. Totally inhuman. She’s not even blinking.

“Your eyesight’s going to go out,” he muttered under his breath. But she had started the stage, and Matsuda could only stare at the digitized rendition of a patient on the surgical table. Nanami drew the lines with her stylus, and the ‘skin’ split open, revealing the pulsing masses underneath.

There was music ticking, blaring and frantic. It annoyed him. If any music played during surgery, it was almost always classical. Fucking classical. It’s like he was back watching during his internship. He had been fascinated back then, watching how the body pulsed with life in spite of being cut open. The thrill of a person’s warmth when their inner intricacies were in his hands. The throbbing and spasming of those insides...and Matsuda only snapped out of it when the stage was cleared and triumphant music played.

And Nanami was looking up at him, bright-eyed and expectant. She offered him the game.

He shook his head. He felt twitchy all over. Anxious. Here he was, wasting his fucking time on this. There weren’t even any lives on the line. No excitement at all. He wouldn’t even learn anything. A simulation had nothing on the hands-on experience he used to be so familiar with.

And if I’m here for so long that I forget how to rewire a person...what will I do?

“It’s nothing like the real thing. It doesn’t even make the slightest difference.”

“Matsuda-kun?”

He leaves without another word.

--

He looks through the files in his cottage of weird animal-dressed people, and even mulling over them and trying to act like he’s working isn’t the most satisfying of activities. So, he heads out, reading his manga as he does, and sometimes irritably shielding himself from the sun. It’s painfully bright regardless of what he does, so he ends up in the hotel lobby once again.

And Nanami Chiaki is sleeping on his favorite spot, her handheld placed gently aside. She doesn’t sleep with any grace and is muttering about flying pigs and evil octopi. Matsuda shuts his manga irritably and he nudges her arm dangling over the side with the tip of his slipper. Nanami mutters something incoherent in between weird humming that may or may not have resembled classical music, and Matsuda smacks her head none-too-lightly with his book.

“Oi. If you’re going to sleep, do so in your fucking cottage not out here in the open. Do you have any self-preservation at all?” He smacks her again. “This is also bad for your back. And you already slouch so much. Geez.”

“Mm. The one who orders us. Cannot be negotiated with. Do not call.”

“What weird game are you playing in your head now?”

Nanami’s face scrunched up briefly. And quickly. Almost too quick to observe. Her eyes drifted open lethargically, wide and blank. Slowly, she pushed herself up, and there was only recognition in her dull gaze as she blinked at him.

“Matsuda-kun.”

What the hell was that about? Ah.

“Morning,” he greeted, not that curious. “Do you ever go anywhere else? Shut-in.”

“Mm,” Nanami mumbled, rubbing her eye with a yawn. “I feel most comfortable with games, but I suppose I should go to other places, too. Do you have any ideas, Matsuda-kun?”

“I don’t care. Anywhere should work.”

Her cheeks puffed, clearly displeased with the answer but Matsuda didn’t care enough to take it back.

“Is it that you’re getting bored of games or that you feel like there should be more to life? It’s none of my concern either way, but if you’re going to bother me about such nonsense, the least you can do is be clear about your motivations.”

Nanami stared at him, and after a while, her head tilted.

“It’s because you’re so difficult.”

Matsuda raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“Out of everyone here, Matsuda-kun is the most difficult,” she said simply, tugging up her hood. “At least, I think so.”

“That’s...a pretty fucking lofty claim, considering.” He said that, but in all honesty, he’s not that shocked. People have been calling him difficult all his life even amongst others with objectively worse traits. He’s used to this kind of bullshit.

It’s still annoying as fuck, though.

“That’s also not much of an explanation,” he pointed out. “Why the hell am I a factor in how you spend your free time? You don’t have to pay me mind.”

Nanami’s expression didn’t change, but he wondered if he imagined a shadow flickering across her gaze for the slightest moment.

“I spend a lot of time playing games, and I love games.” A pause. “Of course, games are about having fun. But there are other good things you can get out of it, too. Like, a greater understanding of yourself and the world around you.”

“That’s what it means to be art,” Matsuda replied dully. “So, what? What does this have to do with me specifically?”

“There’s a particular genre I have trouble with, I guess,” Nanami said, although she seemed kind of lost in thought about it. “It’s a genre that hinges on understanding others. Other, um, living people I think.”

Living people? The hell is up with that signifier? Is she actually a zombie?

He couldn’t ponder that further because Nanami was now pointing at him.

“And you, Matsuda-kun, are the most difficult person. So, I think I want to understand through you.”

“What a normal thing to say. And do.” Matsuda twitched. “It’s not my fucking responsibility if you have a social disorder.”

Although I wonder if that’s what it is. But it doesn’t matter. This doesn’t involve me.

“When I invited you to play games, I thought playing something that pertained to your interests would get you to open up,” Nanami explained next. “But you didn’t. You just got upset. Why?”

Ah. Okay. That’s a curiosity I can entertain.

“It’s because you assumed that my field is meant to entertainment.” He didn’t look at her, but he wasn’t going to run away. “I got into medicine and neurology out of necessity and purpose, not because I thought it’d be fun. Yes, it can be enjoyable but that’s such a selfish and stupid fucking way to look at it. Even the fucking narcissists don’t care about that.”

It’s about control. The control needed to save a person’s life.

“Narcissists?” Nanami parroted.

“Never mind. What I should be saying is that if you wanted to pick a game I’d enjoy; you should have picked something with magical girls.”

She perked up. “Oh, so Monomi.”

“Something a little more dignified would be preferred, but yeah. I guess. I can’t say I’m that rabbit’s biggest fan.”

If not for her shitty timing and shittier competence level, I’d at least tolerate her, I suppose.

“Um. So.” Humming, Nanami bounced on her heels, likely to keep herself awake. “What’s something that Matsuda-kun enjoys that I can take part in?” She looks at her book. “I can read with you, I guess? That’s sort of like co-op.”

“It’s nothing like co-op,” he snapped. “And I’d rather not have your creepy dead fish eyes staring holes over my shoulder.”

“I’m not a fish. I think. Fish can sleep underwater. And I’d drown if I tried that. Probably. But maybe I could survive if I collected enough bubbles.”

Matsuda stared at her for a long, long time. 

“How about I look for a second copy of this book and you can read along or something?”

“Oh, I guess that’s also an option, huh.”

And such was what they went with. And so, Matsuda’s frustration and confusion with the one called Nanami Chiaki increased. But off to the library, all the same.

--

“Matsuda-kun, Matsuda-kun.”

Nanami was the one who waved him over, although she hardly looked happy to be doing so. Neutrality as always. It seriously weirded him out.

“Let’s go somewhere again,” she said. “Where would you like to be?”

“A...hospital. With patients. Where I’d be working. Obviously.”

Nanami frowned at him, perhaps a little put out. He couldn’t really tell. Maybe she was actually judging him or something. Considering how much time this chick spent on luxury activities, he wondered if she had any concept of work.

Then again, she doesn’t understand much. Isn’t she pestering me in the first place because of a game?

“That game you’re using me to get good at...it’s not unsavory, is it?”

“Unsavory?” Nanami parroted, like she wasn’t sure what the word meant. He shuddered a bit at the implication of such a scenario. “I do want to understand other people. That’s important, right?”

“I guess. But normally a person’s intention would be social climbing.”

“Like gaining social links?” Nanami seemed to think that over. “Well, there are benefits to that. New abilities. Matsuda-kun would grant greater precision. The ability to better aim. Sharp Precision. That’s what it’d be called.”

She’s now talking through me rather than at me. Fucking rude.

“Right. Precision granted, then. Good-bye.”

He turns on his heel and walks away. It’s not all that dramatic, because Nanami just trots after him without missing a beat. One might compare it to being followed by something cute, like a puppy, a kitten, or a duckling. Matsuda felt it more akin to the security cameras.

“That’s not how it works,” Nanami finally spoke after they walked a good distance across the island. “I feel like concluding here would be a bad ending, I’m sure of it.”

Bad ending? So like...a dating sim route?

Gross.

“Alright. So, a question.” He distracted himself with one of the monitors. And one of the cameras. What he’d give for a rock to break both of them. “You’re pretty good at games, right?”

“Mm?”

“Like, it’s your talent. You must be really fucking absurdly good at games.” He still didn’t look at her. “How much do you think I’d have to mess with your head to make you bad at them?” A pause. “One practice during open brain surgery is having the patient playing a game while you poke around. If they go from doing really well to really poorly, you have an idea that you’re doing something wrong. So how about it?” He glanced back. “Wanna test that?”

Nanami didn’t look disturbed. She didn’t even look displeased. She did, however, visibly size him up and shook her head.

“Even if I was bad at games, I’m sure I’d still enjoy them. It’s not about winning or losing, after all.”

That’s...absolutely not what you should be concerned about. Creepy. So fucking creepy. She has the sense to not go for it, but seriously?

If I lost my capabilities for even a moment, I don’t know what I’d fucking do with myself. If I couldn’t focus on something that important, what would I even be living for?

“Oh.” Nanami sighed. “Matsuda-kun looks upset again. At this rate, I’ll never get a good ending.”

Gross. Gross, gross, gross.

“Life doesn’t have any endings,” he bit out. “There’s also no milestones, not really. No plot points. Certainly no impeccable strategy. Don’t you get that?”

She blinked at him. Once. Twice.

“Mm.” She shrugs. “Matsuda-kun, I have a magical girl game we can play together. It’s a fighter. The combos are really simple. I think you’d enjoy it.”

“It’s always about games with you, isn’t it?” He rolled his eyes. “Look. The second we get off this island, I’m going to throw my everything back into work. There’s no point in building a relationship that’s just going to fall apart. Especially when the person you’re looking to build it with is as difficult as I am.”

Nanami blinked at him again. This time, she was quiet.

“I’m going back,” he said, rubbing at his nape. “Thanks for joining me on the walk, but no thanks to your weird, detached advances.”

“It’s because I want to understand you, Matsuda-kun,” she replied simply. “Because it’s difficult for me, too. I think.”

Is it? Is it really?

No matter how he looked at it, it was a fucking weird sentiment to express. It wasn’t normal. Not at all. Nanami Chiaki wasn’t remotely normal.

I actually...do kind of want to split her head open and get a look for what’s inside.

But he can’t really do that, so for now he just brushes her off.

“I’d rather just not be bothered.”

“Hmmm. Well,” Nanami hummed, shrugging as well. “Maybe you’re tired? I’ll talk to you later, Matsuda-kun.”

This time, she’s the one to walk away. Like it’s that simple.

How exhausting.

--

He’s lying on bed, manga draped over his face and hands laced behind his head. He’s decently close to being asleep, but there’s a knock on his door. Pulling the manga off and setting aside, he groaned loudly.

“Leave a message.”

And then, he heard someone stuffing just that under his door. Pushing himself up, Matsuda stared at the folded-up paper now on his floor. Sighing, he went and retrieved it. The handwriting was surprisingly neat.

Matsuda-kun,

Hang out with me?

He had half a mind to crumble it up, but instead he just opened the door. Sure enough, she was still there.

“I hear letters can be a good starting block,” Nanami said simply. Like it was just common knowledge. “So they really are effective, huh.”

“Did you just have this on you?” Matsuda shook his head. “Don’t actually answer that. I don’t want to know. What I will ask is why you’re bothering me. Again.”

“I’ve hung out with other people,” she responded, head tilted. “And I think I learned a bit about human interaction. But, Matsuda-kun is still the most difficult. I think.”

“Mmgh.” She really is an odd one, isn’t she? That said. “You really think we can get along, huh? I don’t remotely understand how but to be honest, I don’t understand how you think at all. Sure I can’t cut open your head?” He snorted. “Kidding.”

Nanami’s expression still didn’t change. He still couldn’t get a read on her.

“Walk with me, Matsuda-kun?”

“Alright. Sure. Whatever.”

There wasn’t any point either way, so he figured he might as well. It wasn’t often someone sought him out willingly, right?

...right?

His head hurt a little.

“We can stop by the supermarket, I think,” Nanami says after he shuts the door behind him. “If your head hurts.”

He waved his hand to brush off the remark and followed her lead.

“When talking to many people, I guess I learned a lot of things,” she rambled on ever dully. “I know quite a bit from games, but that can only teach me so much about the world, I think.”

Matsuda said nothing to that, rubbing his temples.

“There was something in particular that frustrated and confused me,” she added. “Something that I wanted to understand.”

“Dating sims?” Matsuda asked wryly, unimpressed.

She didn’t respond, either to confirm or to elaborate. Matsuda huffed, but he expected as much.

“Y’know most games that simulate interaction miss out on a lot of nuances to actual conversations. Just like most thing,” he found himself saying. “No matter how intricate the control screen, there’s an ocean of difference between playing a game about a subject versus engaging with it in the real world. That’s another reason why your doctor games don’t do much for me.”

“I suppose that makes sense, huh.” Strangely, Nanami almost sounded wistful. “But, it’s still something I’d like to understand better. Interacting with others, building relationships, falling in love, things like that.”

They’re at the beach now. Nanami pauses to stare out towards the ocean. Matsuda wondered what he saw beyond the sunlight broken and scattered across the surface. The seagulls flying overhead, and the rolling waves.

“I don’t understand love, but... I don’t think you do, either, Matsuda-kun.”

Matsuda’s eyes narrowed sharply and he would’ve snapped back except suddenly his head hurt and he nearly choked. He gagged, too, feeling sick and light-headed.

“U-Urgh. Urgh.”

“Matsuda-kun.” A gentle hand on his head. “Forget I said anything.”

He flinched, but, his mind went blank for a moment and he swallowed back both saliva and bile. Noticing how close Nanami was standing to him, and how her stare was the most unsettling it has ever been, he scowled.

“What was that? I felt like you said shit that was seriously fucking rude before.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Liar.”

Nanami shrugs and from there it’s whatever. Just whatever.

“Hey, Matsuda-kun.” She tugs at her hood. “If you do ever leave, do you think you’ll be bothered to remember everyone?”

“You’re a difficult bunch to forget,” Matsuda snapped. “But as for you, I really can’t be clearer about my lack of interest. By the way, getting to know someone because you want to score fictional lovers on a game is kinda shit.”

“That was actually an excuse, but I figured it wouldn’t work on you.” She shrugged again. “But we spent enough time together that there must be something between us.”

“What a gross remark.”

“So difficult,” Nanami muttered. However, something tugged at her lips. “But I would like for you to get along with everyone, I think. Despite everything. I’m sure.”

“You really do sound like that obnoxious rabbit sometimes,” he responded, puffing his cheeks. She did the same.

“Because getting along with others is important, Matsuda-kun. You should know that.”

Of course I do. But the idea is such a hassle. Such a headache. I have to wonder if it’s worth the trouble.

But, he won’t deny that the idea of a future alone and isolated was a chilling one. He was still human, after all. Humans are social creatures by nature. It was how their species survived, as stupid as it was.

Even if I can’t begin to understand someone like the gamer zombie, it won’t be that way for most other people. And for all her faults, I suppose she’s capable like any other person. I suppose there are a couple of things about her that I can get, even if it’s not everything. But before all of that, one thing is certain.

As both he and Nanami stared out across the endless blue of the ocean waves, he could only truly seek after what laid beyond.

I have to get out of here.

[joshversus]

... Holiday Gaming, Year 5

It is absolutely batshit that I’ve been running these stupid Risus one-shot adventures every December for half a decade.  And yet, here we are, and once again I close out a year’s tabletop RPG play with a chaotic mess of wild improvisation and half-baked ideas loosely themed to midwinter celebrations.  You can read about previous years adventures here, here, here, and here.  

This year formed a direct sequel to last year’s game, which was itself a semi-sequel to the first holiday one shot.  

Following a lawsuit alleging image infringement, trademark violations, defamation, and mail fraud (among other charges), Lucifer settled out of court.  As a result of the arbitration, Lucifer (Satan) is legally obligated to fulfill those letters intended for Santa which, due to misspelling, have been delivered to the Infernal Pit instead.  The letters from Good Children, in particular, must be fulfilled on Christmas Eve as is the expected contract with Santa.  Of course, Lucifer himself is embedded waist-deep in Cocytus, the frozen lake at the bottom of Hell, and anyway you don’t get to reign over the entire Inferno without delegating, so the work has been farmed out to lesser demons.  The easy letters are dealt with by imps and various minor servitors, but there remain a few more problematic missives, and the Devil has appointed these to five of the lords of Hell to handle before Christmas morning.  

Our player characters are:

HAAGENTI, President of Hell, governor over 33 legions, in the shape of a winged bull. (Polymath 4, Boozehound 3, Demon 2, Alchemist 1)

AMDUSIAS, Duke of Hell, governor over 29 legions, in the shape of an upright unicorn. (Magical Musician 4, Treebender 3, Booming Voice 2, Demon 1)

BARBATOS, Duke of Hell, governor over 30 legions, in the shaped of a devilish bearded man. (Demon 4, Dr. Doolittle 3, Treasure Hunter 2, Fortune Teller 1)

FURFUR, Earl of Hell, governor over 26 legions, in the shape of a hart with a fiery tail. (Cupid 4, Thunder and Lightning 3, Demon 2, Soothsayer 1)

MARCHOSIAS, Marquess of Hell, governor over 30 legions, in the shape of a winged wolf with a flaming mouth. (Rowdy Boy 4, Demon 3, Fundamentally Honest 2, Flamethrower 1)

(Our demonic cast is directly but loosely based off their attributes as recorded in The Lesser Key of Solomon.)

Lucifer lays out the deal: Get this done before dawn. They’ve got to follow the rules Santa laid on in arbitration:

No teleporting inside the residence.  They can teleport to it, but must get inside physically.

No damage.  No blasting the walls down with hellfire or the like. Santa doesn’t do property damage.

No getting seen, unless being seen fosters belief in Santa Claus and the Magic of Christmas.

If milk and cookies or other snacks have been left out for Santa, they must be consumed.

Letters from Good Children must be fulfilled.

There are five Good Child letters left. Lucifer has provided them with a magic sack which will provide the next letter as each is fulfilled, and also potentially provide gifts or other useful tools (no guarantees).  The letters are revealed first with names and locations, and only once the party is at the residence is the child’s request made visible.  It is also established that the demons all basically have a roughly 13th-16th century European level of understanding.

LETTER ONE comes from Jimothy Sanchez of Passaic, New Jersey.  Jimothy lives with his father Oliver, stepmother Alanis, and his older stepsister Quinn. Jimothy is eight.

The demons arrive via teleportation outside the two-story suburban home of the Sanchez family.  They are confused by the environment, but immediately begin debating how to get in.  Examination of the letter reveals that Jimmy wants a “fidget spinner” and to “go to space like an astronaut.”

Barbatos begins interrogating a nightbird for information on how to get inside. “You’re tellin’ me you want to get in there to give a little boy a ‘present’?  You fuckin’ pervert,” the thickly-NJ-accented bird replies.  Eventually, the bird summons some pigeons, who attack Marchosias.  Furfur responds by summoning lighting to strike the bird’s tree, which splits and bursts into flames.

This wakes the father inside, who (as can be seen through the window) calls the fire department, although the demons are unclear on what’s happening.  Barbatos turns himself into an approximation of Santa (long white beard, red sharkskin suit, curling ram’s horns) as the fire department arrives. Marchosias and Haagenti teleport back to Dis to visit the infernal library and attempt to unravel the word “astronaut”. Amdusias attempts to pull a key out of the magic sack, but gets a viper instead, which she discards on the ground where it almost immediately bites a fireman.  Oliver Sanchez comes outside, and Barbatos introduces himself as Santa, leading to a great deal of confusion.  Marchosias and Haagenti return, and Haagenti attempts to sell the Santa con by turning into an elf, but succeeds only in turning into an Elf on the Shelf, all of which causes Mr. Sanchez to faint.  Barbatos picks up the EotS and they and Marchosias go inside.  After getting the rundown on what “astronaut” means, Barbatos attempts to get a book on Space from the bag, and gets a book about NASA.  Amdusias downs the milk and cookies, and is revolted by the lack of parasites.  Based on the book, he goes to the Moon, where he attempts to collect a footprint left there by astronauts.  Since it’s all moon dust, he just gets a fist of dust.  He brings that back and stuff it and a wooden top (provided by the sack in response to a request for a fidget spinner) into the stocking labeled Jimothy, and the demons collectively bug out while the firefighters attempt to revive their envenomed compatriot.  

LETTER TWO comes from the children of St. Guinefort’s Home for Disadvantaged Children, an archaic Catholic orphanage in NYC’s Lower East Side.  Surprisingly, the children have not requested anything unreasonable, but have requested a badminton set so they can play together.  Haagenti and Barbatos teleport to the roof of the building in search of a chimney, and finding one Barbatos tosses Haagenti (still in stuffed elf form) down it.  Haagenti hits a metal barrier and finds himself trapped.  Furfur joins them and drops a steaming, acidic load of demon poo down it, burning a hole through the closed flue and dumping Haagenti into a disused storeroom.  Barbatos turns into a rat and follows him down.  Haagenti attempts to take the form of a child and only manages to become a naked, horned baby with a devil’s tail, but is at least able to crawl around.  Barbatos goes for Santa mode again, but this time ends up worse, appearing gaunt and skeletal in his red garb.  Barbatos stuffs the baby Haagenti into the magic bag, a transimensional experience which shatters his mind and that of Furfur, who was scrying on their progress at the moment.  The two have a close encounter with and narrowly avoid the notice of a nun doing the rounds, and manage to quickly locate a room full of sleeping children, where a sad, Charlie-Brown-esque tree sits with no presents around.  Outside, Amdusias attempts to prevent any undue attention by summoning the sound of a traditional Christmas carol, but unwittingly makes everyone in earshot lose Whamageddon instead, followed by Fairytale of New York.

Back inside, Barbatos extracts the extremely dazed Haagenti from the sack, and then attempts to get a badminton set out of it.  The sack provides everything required: net, rackets, shuttlecocks, posts, post-hole digger, cardboard tube forms for pouring concrete anchors for the posts, bags of concrete, a backhoe and steamroller for flattening the court, turf, grass seed, chalk, a spreader, etc.  The room is very full, and the tree is entirely obscured.  

The demons retreat to Central Park, where they have a brief altercation with some hoodlums, before heading to the next home.

LETTER THREE was from Emily Chen of Hollywood, California, where she lives with her mother Amy and three brothers Ted, Leo, and Bobby in a three-bedroom apartment on the fifth floor of a walk-up building.  Emily, as the letter reveals, wants a pony.

Amdusias’s tree-bending bends a palm over the fence and lets everybody past the gates of the building, and the demons gather around the door to apartment.  Barbatos uses his treasure-finding skills to locate a key.  It is inside the apartment.  A cat is sensed inside, and Barbatos attempts to convince the cat to let them in.  The cat explains that even if it wanted to, it can’t work the lock.  A bribe of fish is offered if the cat will retrieve the key and push it under the door - the cat agrees if they will give it sushi.  A key is pushed under the door.  It does not fit in the lock.  Haagenti turns it into a more ductile metal to make it fit into the keyhole, and then attempts to firm it up so it can be turned, but in doing so ends up fusing it into the keyhole.  The cat demands sushi, which when extracted from the bag is revealed to be a piece of tamago nigiri.  An offer of salmon is made, but the cat again points out they are not capable of working the locks.  One of the demons tried to turn the cat into a human.  The locks click, the door opens, and a very sexy, very naked, and entirely testicle-less human man is revealed, demanding salmon.  The salmon is given, but the former cat asks for its balls back in exchange for letting them in and not just blowing up their spot right then and there.  Magic succeeds in restoring the man-cat’s genitals, and after garbing himself in a child’s gym shorts and some flip-flops, the cat leaves into the Hollywood night and the demons are free to enter. 

The living room bears a silver metallic tree, which confuses them, but they quickly and successfully extract a full-sized live pony and a bale of moist hay form the sack, the demons depart.

LETTER FOUR comes from Bethany-Ann Mayweather of South Carolina.  Bethany, it turns out, lives in a heavily-fortified survivalist compound in the woods with her dad (Steve), two brothers (Jesse and Dave), and two sisters (Katie and Donna-Lee.  The entire place is surrounded by an electrified fence topped with razor wire.

Emily would like to go to school like other children.

Things get weird.  Amdusias bends a tree over the fence, and Furfur drops down to discover that the clear ground between the fence and the building itself is heavily mined, exploding instantly (but non-fatally, because demon).  Lights are going on at the compound as Furfur starts bouncing around setting off mines and motion-sensing lamps.

Marchosias has the idea that the humans at the first house had somehow summoned that metal chariot in response to the burning tree by talking into that weird curved oblong shape, and that if they do the same maybe the metal chariot will help them get in.  Reaching into the bag extracts a banana.  Marchosias holds it to the side of his head and says hello.

“Hello?” says a sleepy voice from the banana.  “Who is this?”

“Uh, Mark,” responds Marchosias, who is Fundamentally Honest.  “Are you the...cops?  There is a little girl and there is a lot of gunpowder and fire and explosions.”

“What?  No, this is Raffi.  How did you get this number?  Is this a prank?”

It is established that this is not a prank (”Did Steve put you up to this?” “There’s a Steve here but no.” “From Blue’s Clues.” “I don’t know who or what that is.” “Mark, I’m looking at this caller ID here, and it just says ‘banana’.  What’s going on?”).  Barbatos teleports to this ‘Raffi’, the shock of which causes Raffi to suffer a heart attack and die. Barbatos resurrects Raffi as an undead revenant, and after difficulty (”Raffi, how do we call the police?” “RING.  RING.  RING.  BANANAPHONE.”) manage to extract the magical incantation “911″ from the former children’s entertainer.  Marchosias invokes this to the banana and connects to emergency services, and after a very complicated discussion (and some light aerial reconnaissance to pinpoint a location) succeeds in convincing them that there is a dangerous, heavily-armed incident at the compound and a child is in danger.  SWAT is being sent.  Meanwhile, Furfur is drawing gunfire from the survivalist dad, and Amdusias uses spectral music to distract him while they slip inside.

The six-foot-tall unicorn-headed naked figure reaches the crude two-dimensional paper Christmas tree inside the survival bunker and attempts to eat the dry saltines and rehydrated powdered milk that has been left out.  They are interrupted by the sleepy-eyed and tow-headed Bethany-Ann, who asks who they are.  Amdusias explains that they’re subbing in because Blitzen is sick.  Blitzen is Bethany-Ann’s favorite.  Amdusias tells her she’s going to get to go to school soon, and after a hug sends Bethany-Ann to hide under her bed until some nice people come get her.  Furfur attempts to use his lightning powers to dash Blitzen-like over the compound to drive home the Christmas-ness of it all, and instead burns holes through a number of trees as he accelerates to an appreciable fraction of the speed of light.  The remaining demons depart as militarized police descend on the compound.

THE FINAL LETTER is from Marcus Fitzwilliams III, son of Buck and Nancy, brother to Samantha, of Casper, Wyoming.  Marcus is ten, and he would like “a fortnite”.  The demons gather outside the ranch-style suburban home and debate what that means.  Eventually, they decide this means he wants to spend a night in a fort, and locating the Fort Caspar Museum nearby they plan to liberate the child from the house and take him there.  They decide against a plan to bring the fort to the house on the grounds that this might cause property damage.  Everyone but Marchosias goes to the backyard; Marchosias, who at this point looks like Bea Arthur because of reasons, remains out front with the banana to allay suspicion.

In the backyard, Barbatos again attempts to find a key, but fails.  He does detect a dog, and attempts to convince the dog to let them in.  The dog declines. “Stranger bad.  Bite stranger.”  An offer of bacon is made, and raw bacon pulled from the sack.  “Bacon good.  Bite bacon.  Bite stranger.  Good dog.”  This goes back and forth for a bit, and the dog starts barking.  Barbatos attempts to turn into a dog to sell the bit, and turns into a massive, ebon mastiff with glowing red eyes.  The bacon falls on the ground.  Furfur is now hiding in trees behind the house, joined by Amdusias, who attempts to keep things under control by bellowing “somebody let that dog out for a walk”, which comes out in a titanic demonic shout which rattles windows and kills the azaleas.  Lights come on.  The backdoor opens and Buck, carrying a rifle, looks at the giant demon dog and Haagenti, who is still a demonic baby, and the pile of bacon.  In the trees, the flaming tail of Furfur glows. 

“MA, GET UP AND CHECK THE FRONT, I THINK THE METHHEADS ARE TRYIN’ TO ROB US.”

Shit goes sideways quick.  Nancy opens the front door and sees Bea Arthur standing in her yard talking into a banana, and confirms the meth suspicion to buck.  The dog escapes into the yard and eats the bacon.  Baby Haagenti jumps on mastiff Barbatos’ back and the two dash into the house as Buck fires wildly at them and the intruders in the trees.  Nancy shoots the bananaphone and the side of Bea Arthur’s face.  Inside the house, Haagenti and Barbatos dodge bullets semi-successfully.  Haagenti scarfs cookies while Barbatos abandons the original plan and reaches into the bag while thinking “Fort Night”, pulling forth a card with a download code for Minecraft.  Furfur pulls his lightning-assisted flight trick over the house while Amdusias tries a bellowing “HO HO HO” so loud and infernal it shatters windows in houses throughout the neighborhood.

The list complete, the demons depart for Dis, where they are quickly met by Asmodeus, who tells them the boss wants to see them. The demon lords report total success, but receive a thorough chewing-out from Lucifer, who details the many, many violations they have committed and the agonies he is going to inflict on them for their failure.  

“You know the ring where we bury people up to their face in flaming shit?”  “Yeah, that one’s great.”  “Not for the humans.  I’m going to turn you all into humans and stick you there for the next thousand years.”

The demons attempt to portray their actions in a favorable light, and Amdusias protests and attempts to get the sounds of Michael Bublé’s Let it Snow to play and encourage the spirit of the holiday to earn them some clemency. However, it turns instead into Snow’s Informer as Belial reveals himself from behind Lucifer’s torso and tells them he was following and reporting on them the whole time, everyone gets in a Christmas “no, fuck you”, our heroes are consigned to flaming shit, and credits roll. Happy Holidays, everyone.

[wakraya]

SBURB - The Board Game

Hey guys! Since the post I made yesterday got some traction and you all seemed super interested in this concept, I decided that, fuck it! Even though I don’t have all of the cards made and I’ve still got to refine the rules, I may as well share what I have, right?

This is something I’ve been doing on my free time! While I’ve given some thought to it and would totally love to make it into a functional game, maybe with one of those Tabletop Simulator things online, it’s still pretty much amateurish and untested. So with that out of the way:

How To Play

The game is at its core, a turn-based Card Game. You will have certain randomly-chosen characteristics that will shape how you interact with the others in the Session, but generally, most people’s objective is going to be completing a successful SBURB Session. There are 10 different decks of Cards with different kinds of Cards.

Character: Character Cards, they determine your Health and Aspect Vial count, as well as some special ability you may be able to use in your game!

Role: These determine your scoring conditions. Most people will get the SBURB Player, but there are other roles as well. No one but you should see your Role until the end of the game.

Land: Land Cards are... Well. Your Lands. Each half of a Land will have some special attribute only the person in the Land can benefit from, or they may have negative effects or special events that require some sort of activation.

Loot: Your basic Item Rewards, everything from Classpects to Weapons and Consumables.

Treasure: Advanced Item Rewards, usually powerful and can change the tide of a game.

Action: Your basic Actions, these will allow you to stop other character’s Actions, buff or debuff enemies other people encounter, and do things like Prototype or Ascend to God Tier.

Miracle: Just like Loot have Treasures, Actions have Miracles. These may allow for some dramatic effects like un-prototyping something or spawning a boss.

Strife: These are encounter cards, they may have an enemy you have to fight/flee from, or they may have some immediate reward/debuff for exploring your Land.

Boss: Agents, Royalty, Denizens and the like.

Doom: Dramatic, Session-Wide Events. These will be flipped over because of Miracles, or after a set number of turns. Something like, something awfully powerful falling on a Sprite and buffing every enemy and the Royalty, Jack stealing the Ring and becoming the Boss instead of the Black Queen, and such. The Reckoning can be either set to appear after X number of Turns, or you could just draw Doom Cards until The Reckoning appears, at which point you’d have 5 Turns until the Tumor Detonates and ends the Game.

Now that the Card Types have been explained, lets continue with the Gameplay! The SBURB Board Game is divided into three distinct parts.

The Set Up

This stage is basically a preliminary round before starting the game so that everyone gets the cards they need to begin everything. In whatever order they want, the Players will take a Character and Role Card. Everyone can see the Character, but no one can see the Role, of course. Everyone will also pick either 2 Action Cards, or 1 Action Card and 1 Loot Card.

They will also have to take 1 Land Card and add it as one half of their Land Title. They may choose to have it one the first or second slot without restriction, except for the ‘Frogs’ part of the Land, which will always go at the End. Drawing the ‘Frogs’ Land also instantly makes your Aspect be the Space Aspect. Similarly, equipping the Space Aspect immediately makes your Land the ‘Frogs’ Land, no exceptions. If any event gets rid of your Space title, your ‘Frogs’ Land goes with it, and vice-versa, they’re linked cards and cannot exist separately. Unless there’s more than one Space Aspect card I guess? In which point... just one Frogs Land. I’ll see about that.

The number of rounds before the Reckoning, having or not having the Reckoning show up mandatorily, that’s still stuff I’ve got to work out when the game is in a more advanced state. Right now the idea is that every X rounds (5 maybe?) you flip over a Doom Card that makes your Session more and more fucked up, so if you want to win you’ve gotta hurry up.

The Bulk of the Game

This is the stage most of the action will happen in. Once everyone has the cards they need and they know their Role in the Session, the game is divided in Rounds. Everyone has 1 Turn per Round, in order, and they can do any and all of the following during their Turn:

Draw an Action Card: Self-explanatory, everyone draws an Action Card at the start of their turns.

Use an Action Card/Equip Loot: You may only Equip new items during your Turn. While some Action Cards are restricted to use in your Turn, there are other Actions and Consumables that will be labelled as Instantaneous. If someone, say, tries to attack you, you may use an Action Card that nullifies this Action and prevent the Strife. Or you may use an Instant Action that powers up an enemy someone’s Strifing at any point. The idea right now is that you can use any number of Instant Actions to respond to things happening to you outside of your Turn, but you can only use 1 Instant Action to directly affect another Player per Round. We’ll see how this goes though.

Buy: You may access the Consort Shops of your Land at any point during the game. If a Land has a bonus for the shop, only the owner of the Land can get the bonus. You may also spend your Currency to buy things for other people. You can buy a variety of things from the Shops- A Loot Card (At the cost of 5 Currency), Treasures (Exchanged for 5 Loot Cards), Miracles (Exchanged for 5 Action Cards), Gates (Bought for 10 Currency each. Until you have both halves of your Land Title, you can only buy one. They allow you to interact with the next Player and their Land, and work the same as in Homestuck- 2 Gates will let you access the Player 2 turns away, if you have 1 Gate and the next Player also has 1 Gate, you can effectively reach the Player 2 turns away too. You need 7, or the ability to fly, to go face the Denizen), Dersite Transportalizers (A one-time purchase for the whole Session, it costs 50 Currency and allows travel to Derse to face off against the Black Queen. Derse can also be accessed with Flight), the Genesis Machina (Only available for the Space Player’s Land. A one-time, 50 Currency Purchase too, representing the Frog Breeding, Battlefield Drill and the Grist Rigs to shoot the Hoards into Skaia. May be only available after Stoking the Forge? Still gotta parse how this would work), and the Alchemy Sigil (Each Sigil costs 10 Currency. It allows you to stack weapons and equipment on top of each other to become more powerful).

Explore your Land: You can draw a Strife Card and see what the encounter has in store for you. It may be a positive or negative effect, like falling down and getting damaged or finding loot randomly, but it could also be an enemy! If an Enemy appears, a Strife is initiated. So far the combat systems I have in mind is a simple dice roll. The enemies will have power and buffs from Sprite Prototypings, and you will have power from the equipment. Both you and the Imp roll a d8. Whoever has the highest roll + power deals 1 unit of damage. If the roll is twice someone else’s roll, you deal 2 damage. If it’s three times as high, it’s an instant KO, Overkill (To prevent low-level enemies from being a nuisance). Repeat the dice rolling until the Enemy or the Player are dead. I may have to make it be triple and then quadruple if I see that’s a bit too OP. You can also Flee at any point by taking 1 unit of damage.

Fight Another Player: If you can reach their Land, you can Fight another Player. But unlike a normal Strife, a Strife with a Player will be just a turn of a Strife, to prevent someone from immediately killing someone else at the start of the game. You can also likely not Overkill a Player, that may be unfair too.

And the Rounds keep going as people plan their next move- Maybe someone’s a Horrorterror Emissary that’s been helping their friends all game, but now that someone’s about to die they use an Instant Action to power up the Underling and get them killed! Or maybe the Space Player is a Lord English cultist and refuses to buy the Genesis Machina, forcing someone else to spend their hard earned Currency to buy it themselves so that the game can be completed! The idea is that, not knowing other people’s Roles, their Goals are obscured and you have to trust others or rely on trickery and betrayal to attain what you want.

By default, you can die Once, with your Dreamself counting as an Extra Life. Whether you have to be kissed by another Player or not to wake up as your Dreamself though, we’ll see if it’d make the mechanic dumb or not.

A few things of note: There are three special kinds of Action Card that may help make or break a Session.

Prototyping Action: Everyone loves Sprites in Homestuck! Prototyping Actions are required to Prototype your Kernelsprite. Your First Prototyping will affect the Underlings, your Second won’t- Unless someone plays a ‘Double Prototyping’ Action, which will have both Tiers affect Underlings and Royalty. The Sprite’s power is added to your Character’s Power, and they count as an Extra Life- If you die, the Sprite will sacrifice itself for you. I’m thinking you may also be able to toss a Dead Player in a Sprite, bringing them back into the game with the bonuses of whatever was prototyped, but we’ll see how viable is that. Using 1 Prototyping Card will let your Prototype some Loot in your hand, or take the first Loot card on the deck (That’s prototypable) and Prototype it. Using 2 Prototyping Cards will let you look at the first 5 Cards on the Loot Deck and choose which one you want to Prototype. It will also let you Prototype someone’s Sprite, as long as you can reach their Land, with a card on your hand. Using 3 Prototyping Cards will let you prototype a Treasure to any Sprite you can reach, including your own, or toss a dead Player into a Tier 2 Slot of any Sprite, effectively nullifying that Player’s Sprite but bringing the dead Player back into the game.

Terraforming Action: The same as Prototyping Actions, but for your Lands. Using 1 Terraforming Card will force you to get the first Land Card on the deck and use it to complete your Land. Using 2 Terraforming Cards will let you draw the first 5 Cards of the Land Deck and get whichever you want, or force the first Card of the Land Deck onto an adjacent Player’s Land. Using 3 Terraforming Cards will let you go through the entire Deck and choose the Land you want, or to force the First Land on the Deck on any Player’s empty Land slot.

Ascension Action: Similar to Prototyping and Terraforming, but for going God Tier. You can only use the Ascension if you’ve found and equipped a Class and an Aspect. Going God Tier will give you benefits listed on the Class and Aspect Cards, and Deaths to anything other than other Players or Bosses will simply end the Strife and keep you with 1 Health. Using 1 Ascension Card lets you ascend to God Tier, as long as you have an Extra Life to spare. Ascending will get rid of this Extra Life, of course. Using 2 Ascension Cards will allow you to Ascend in the Moon Crypt, letting you reach God Tier even if you don’t have Extra Lives. You can also use 2 Cards to bring a Dead Player to their Quest Bed- As long as you can reach their Land and they had 1 Life to Spare (This may be changed if the Kiss Mechanic is not implemented). Using 3 Ascension Cards will let you Ascend a Dead Player you can reach, even without the Spare Lives. You can also hold onto them after Death, and use the 3 Ascension Cards to get back into the Game after everyone thought you were Dead for good. If someone tries to loot your body, you may Ascend and prevent this from happening.

The Endgame

After messing around, betraying, Ascending and Descending and facing off against the bullshit your friends are pulling on you, the game will eventually End. There are Four Ways for the game to End.

Tumor: If the Reckoning happens and the Game isn’t won before it ends, the Tumor will detonate and end the Session. No Card or God Tier can prevent this. There may be a Miracle that lets you steal the Tumor though, at which point the Tumor will be a Hot Potato Bomb that will kill whoever’s holding it for good. I may not implement this if it’s too easy to get rid of the Tumor though.

Last Man Standing: The game may end if there’s only one Player left alive, and they decide to end the game then.

Everyone’s Dead: Likewise, if no one survives a Boss Fight and can’t come back in any way, the game obviously ends.

Successful Session: This should be the Ending most Players want to attain. The Black Royalty must’ve been defeated- The Black King to save the Battlefield, the Black Queen to get the Rings. The Genesis Machina must’ve been bought. And whoever is holding the Rings must have access to the Space Player Land, and be willing to toss them into the Forge. Only then will the Genesis Frog be created, and the Game end for good.

To face off against the Black Queen, you need the Dersite Transportalizer, or Flight. To face off against the Black King, you need to have defeated at least Half of the Denizens of the Session, either Strifing them, or doing their Choice, and maybe he can only be reached by those who are God Tier or have Flight? I will have to iron some stuff here.

To face off against the Denizen, you need 7 Gates, or Flight. With Flight or after getting 7 Gates, you may go confront your Denizen at any point during your Turn. This will count as ‘Exploring your Land’ and prevent you from Exploring. The first time you face against the Denizen, you will draw it from the Boss Deck to see what Denizen you have. You may choose to Fight him, to Do the Choice if you’re able to, or Leave. Leaving has no penalty except for certain specific Denizens, other than having wasted your Land Exploring this turn, so you can just visit your Denizen to know what you have to do in order to Choice their ass. Anyone can face off against anyone’s Denizen- But they cannot do their Choice. 

Denizen Battles and Battles with Dersite Agents are 1v1s. Fleeing one of these Fights will always leave you with 1 HP- Unless you already only had 1 HP left, in which case you cannot flee (Or you will die).

The Black Queen and Black King fights are Session-wide, though. Everyone capable of Fighting them can choose to enter the Strife. These fights cannot be fled until either the Boss or everyone fighting the Boss is dead. Everyone will roll and add their power together to fight these Bosses. If even combining everyone’s power, the Boss rolls higher than them, whoever rolled the lowest (Multiple people in case of a tie) will get damaged.

Fighting Bosses, powering up enemies, refusing to fight certain bosses, attacking other players, hoarding Treasures and Miracles, drawing Doom Cards, the idea of the SBURB Game is to build up that sense of trying to win a Session and become Gods of their own Universe, while also adding the many ways a Session can go utterly and absolutely wrong, and with the card drawing being random, it really gives that sense that every Session is unique in their own way!

Obviously, once the Game ends, everyone rolls their Roles over, and check who won. Who knows, maybe the Lord English Cultist sabotaged the Session- But it was the Horrorterror Emissaries that managed to score higher. Or maybe the Session was won, just barely, but it’s the Megalomaniac that got everything to go just how they had planned, winning in the process. Or maybe it will be the Wildcard, who no one even knew what they were doing during the Game, who scored the highest just by being a whimsical asshole.

I’ve got a lot more to work on, and I don’t even know if it will be fun! But. Yeah these are the rules I have set up so far.

[dapperkobold]

Review at Random: Alien Bestiary (Starfinder)

Welcome to Reviews at Random, today we’re not doing a video game. Today, instead, we’re doing a third party product for a tabletop role-playing game. I’ll try my best to make this friendly for people who don’t know about Starfinder, but whatever.

The Alien Bestiary product is published by Legendary Games, made for the Starfinder system (a space fantasy system made by Paizo, the Pathfinder people) and fueled by Kickstarter (including me, full admission). It came out between the Alien Archive (the first official monster book) and Alien Archive 2 (the second official monster book). This makes it... interesting in how it relates to the official products.

Near as I can tell, the intent behind this product is twofold: One, to port some of the more obscure Pathfinder monsters over to Starfinder, and Two, to serve as a dedicated monster book for Legendary Games’ Aetheria setting. That’s not a bad thing, setting-specific monster books can be lots of fun as long as they’re not too tied up in the lore of the original setting, keeping people from understanding the lore of the monsters, and they don’t make you read a different book to use the monsters in your game.

But! We’ll come to that later. For now...

Presentation

The art and design of the Alien Bestiary are fine, the art is from a few different artists and one or two didn’t get the message that the art is for a Sci-Fi product, but it’s overall nothing too jarring or ugly. At least, not artistically ugly; abominations are all suitably hideous. Apart from that, there’s a few typos around (last I checked) and while they’re rare and mostly harmless they can be annoying on the occasion you find one.

Final Presentation Score: B-

It’s not really a super pretty book, but whatever it works and works well.

Mechanics

RPG books have less ‘gameplay’ per se, and more Mechanics. In this case, the mechanics of the monsters in question. And for the most part the mechanics seem fine... except that they relate to the official Paizo Products oddly.

Alien Bestiary came out after the Alien Archive, but was set in stone before Alien Archive 2 came out. Alien Archive 2 brought with it a lot of cool space-like creatures from Pathfinder that were really neat. See where this is going?

While Alien Bestiary neatly avoids overlap with Alien Archive, there’s some things in 2 where the overlap is notable, and for the most parts Alien Archive 2 wins out. You might say to yourself, “But if the two stat blocks are different, they can be used for different things!” and you would be right but they’re mostly NOT. Since both companies went off of the Pathfinder version as a cheat sheet, they’re strikingly similar save for some stat changes. 

Now, I haven’t side-by-sided many of the overlapping monsters, but my bias is to default to the Paizo stats, because at this point Starfinder is still young enough that Paizo has the best handle on their own system. And if you are the sort to side-by-side them, you still need to put forth that effort and decide which is better.

Otherwise, things like wild animals, dinosaurs, and dragons give Paizo an edge because Paizo doesn’t just give dozens of Dragon stat blocks at various ages and colors, but instead a system that lets you plug-and-play dragons fast. Will that result in samey dragons? Maybe, but if you’re worried about dragons feeling unique you’re likely putting some effort in tweaking them anyway. Same with dinosaurs, herd animals, predators... with the creation system in the Paizo products, you can just MAKE custom dinosaurs using the super easy monster creation system from the FIRST Alien Archive. If you have an obscure dinosaur you’re super fond of, the Paizo system will let you use it without trouble!

Though the Alien Bestiary has dedicated stats for a dunklesteosis, which is free brownie points from me.

...That and the soulbound shell, which is like a sorcer’s spirit encased in a robot, and that’s pretty darn neat!

See, when you get into third-party books, especially monster books, there’s going to be overlap. Whether you buy a given book is more about whether there’s enough from that book that you care about.

So, what does the Alien Bestiary have, specifically?

Traditional abberations like intellect devourers, aboleths, cloakers, chokers, and flumphs!

Meteor Dragon!

Allips and a host of other undead who died in exceedingly evil ways!

Phycomid!

Moon Flowers and Moon Beasts!

Various Giants!

Kytons!

More Kytons!

SERIOUSLY this book has 11 different Kytons in it!

The Alien Archive 2 has one Kyton, under a different name, but none of these Kytons overlap with it.

There’s even rules for tweaking other Kytons fit the rules for the Aetheria Setting Kytons!

Who needs this many Kytons?!

Golems.

DOWNSIDE: Still using the whole ‘golems are immune to spells’ thing.

Fairly creative monsters specific to the Aetheria Campaign Setting.

New robots!

WHAT IS IT OH CRIPES GET ME OUT OF HERE

Clockwork Constructs!

Daemons?

John Carpenter’s The Thing

Obligatory Great Old Ones

Starship stat block for Cthulhu!

Trappers and Mimics!

Mobster leeches!

I TAKE IT BACK THIS ONE IS WORSE GIVE ME THE FREAKY HEAD BACK

A TON of other classic and original (or at least obscure) monsters!

So, yeah, even with the overlap this book has a LOT to offer.

However! Be aware that this is a dedicated monster book, and NOT the Alien Archive. There isn’t really any bonus material like items or PC options with a very few exceptions. This is standard for Monster books, yes, but I thought it worth bringing up in case you got used to Alien Archive.

(Though I hope that they give PC-usable rules for the poisonous squid people in a different product sometime.)

Final Mechanics Score: B+ C-

Though I can’t vouch for the balance of the book, for all I know it’s a mess, I didn’t see anything immediately alarming and the selection of monsters is very wide. It’s possible that the makers were more using Pathfinder design philosophy than Starfinder, but the two are close enough that shouldn’t be really damaging.

HEY THERE! Future Kobold here! I was going over the thing for session planning/another post on it, and was looking closely at the stat blocks. Turns out that the mechanics are split about 50/50 on whether they’re a complete mess or not. Even the ones that aren’t messes tend to have presentation problems that might be confusing for new GMs. A lot of entries are missing space/reach, too. This is really disappointing, and I’ve amended the grade to account for it.

(Who needs 11 different Kytons? I’m not sure if the original Pathfinder Bestiary had 11 different Demons, sakes alive...)

Writing

So, for some of you, it will be enough for me to say ‘it has a Bullette in it’ and you will go buy it. Other people will wonder if the monsters are usable in their stories, mainly that they have solid descriptions so the GM knows how to present and run them. And... yes, they do. Some more than others, and there’s one or two that are so out there that I have no idea how to put them in other than as an extra random encounter.

Other than that, while this book WAS made as a monster book for a specific setting, nothing really shackles it to that setting. The few monsters with setting-specific mechanics have those mechanics detailed in the indices of the book, and the mentions of in-universe organizations aren’t really too complex. With a little bit of creativity and replacement, you can pretty well swap things out without too much strain.

Overall, I do wish a few of those odd monsters were better explained, but it’s no real lost traction.

Final Writing Score: B

Overall

While it lacks the polish of Paizo’s first party products, the people involved knew what they were doing. Everything is fine. Nothing is really amazing, but something doesn’t need to be amazing to be good. It has some fun ideas, and it does cover a lot of bases the official products don’t while both pandering to the classics and showing some originality itself.

(Or at least knowing obscure enough classics that they count as in-jokes, whichever)

Presentation: B-

Mechanics: B+ C-

Writing: B

FINAL GRADE: B C+

Release some old terrors on your players. And then some new ones, just to keep them guessing.

Awards:

MAXIMUM KYTON

[beheadingofmakai]

Artificial

Nothing important, just a short exercise to get a feel of a character I’ll be using for a tabletop game. Keep this in mind when reading this, as it is less a nuanced story and more “the concept put into practice”. As such, not all information is readily available, and won’t be, as her development will happen through the game proper. It’s a short story about one Lisbeth Elstad, who can be best described as a “walking pharmacy”.

                                                          ---------

“One... Two of them... No peepers from inside the building itself. Regular windows, not polarized, likely bulletproofed and magic-warded, no cameras that I can see, and the surrounding buildings don’t seem to be theirs, but...”

Through the binoculars, a pair of silver eyes scouted through a remote location by the hole in a wall of an abandoned building. This wasn’t the middle of nowhere, this wasn’t some backwater hole, it was merely a less bustling part of Southern California, so the well oiled cogs of society were alive and running just four stories underneath. A werewolf in a suit, running late for his job interview, a harpy rollerblading, carefully using her wings to balance herself while her human friend, wearing a matching neon green sweatshirt, instructed her how to better use her torso to handle the shifts in weight efficiently, smiles on their faces. This wasn’t your old village or the dumps, this was the city, with all the eyes and ears that come with the package. It wasn’t an option for Lisbeth Elstad to draw attention to herself while trying to get into that building by the squalid dead end street. She was unaffiliated with any sort of law enforcement or any sort of organization whatsoever. This was a one woman war running on bread crumbs that were ambiguous and obscure at best. It was less a wild goose chase as much as it was trying to find a tsuchinoko sleeping on a bed of four leaf clovers, neatly across the pot of gold by the rainbow’s end. That was more than enough for her to deem it worth a shot.

“...This stinks. That rat lied to me through his teeth! This info has to be wrong, this place is wide open like the legs of a cheap prostitute, and no matter how much I look at it, this can’t be affiliated with them at all, not with this Olympic gold medal level of incompetence. They were pros, these guys are peanuts at best... And yet...” And yet, she had nothing else to go on. Every clue, every tip, every trail she had followed so far had gone cold. This was all she had left. If she couldn’t find anything here, then that was that, it was back to square one again. Frustrated and resolute in equal parts, the girl put away her binoculars in one of her three satchels and descended the abandoned apartment complex’s stairs. The plan was simple: Get in that building, confirm if they are affiliated with them, and take any information of value by reason or by force.

Lisbeth made her way to the dead end by using the back alleys to call less attention to herself, what with the two-headed wolf pelt poised over her shoulders and all. She romanced the idea of saying, “Oh, this? Nah, don’t worry! I’m just a model on my way to the Rafael Laurel Feral Collection! Please come to cheer on me!” if she were to catch the eye of someone, but quickly discarded this clever ploy, preferring to stick to the shadows. When she was finally in position, she once again confirmed that it was merely two sentries by the door of the so called “Clement & Sibbens Law Firm”, no doubt a front for more morally bankrupt endeavors. They were dressed with security guard outfits, sure, but it was clear simply by looking at them that they were two-bit thugs at best. After a few seconds of pondering, the girl nodded to herself and seemed to have come up with an optimal plan for infiltration. Producing a small brown glass jar and a bottle of water, Lisbeth first poured some water in the jar, and then she extended her palm over the jar. From a hole in the center of Lisbeth’s hand, a pungent dark yellow substance oozed into the jar. “First, we dilute the sulfur mustard a bit...” she muttered to herself, as she was wont to do when working with chemicals, “we stir it a bit to let them coalesce, and after some hydrogen and oxygen...” -- as she murmured, the chemicals she mentioned were injected into the brew through the hole in her hands -- “...we have a very weak variant of mustard gas, high in oxygen, diluted, and without much kick.” As her substance was complete, the girl then dipped her finger lightly into the brew and gently rubbed it against her eyelids, blinking a couple of times. Soon enough, her eyes were red, little tears trailing down her cheeks. Dragging her hand across the ground at her feet, Lisbeth then rubbed her dirty hands across her pale face and, as a finishing touch, with a pristine scalpel produced from her breast pocket, she gave herself a little cut across the cheek. Step one was almost complete! The girl removed her black, pointy hat and her elegant black dress jacket, placing it neatly on the floor on top of her two-headed wolf pelt. The result: A fragile looking girl in a white shirt and black suit pants, eyes red from crying and her face dirty and bloody. She looked like the perfect victim.

                                                         ---------

“...So, how much longer ‘till we change shifts?”

“We’ve literally been here around an hour, man.”

“This sucks, dude, bossman could at least let us bring our earbuds so we can jam out and no die of boredom, there’s nothing fun about standing here for five hours!”

“It used to be seven before we got more whiny kids like you, just tough it out and stop bit--”

“Ahhhh! Someone, please help me!”

The guards’ casual dialogue came to an abrupt end when the shrill screams of a girl flooded their ears. In this comparatively isolated dead end, two blocks away from the bustle and hustle of daily life, this was certainly not common. Their necks craned to meet the source of the voice and, sure as rain, they found it: A girl almost tripping on her own feet, desperately running, heavily panting, eyes red and face stained with tears, blood, and dirt. She looked like a waiter or receptionist, by the looks of her clothes, and was clearly a civilian. 

“Huh? Hey, what’s wrong? Are you alright, ma’am?” the more experienced guard asked, approaching her and trying to see what was it she was running from. “Stop yelling, it’s fine!”

“Th-the Veiled...! That Veiled, with big claws and fangs...! He tried to take my blood in broad daylight! Please, please, he’s coming! I escaped by sheer luck, but he’s coming, oh, lord! Please help me!” the woman hysterically explained, clinging to the guard’s broad chest like a terrified rat.

The guard immediately stood in front of her, facing the direction she came running from, hand already on his pistol. “A Vampire!? In broad daylight!? Tsk, cocky bastard... Must be a real tough one to not mind the sun! These damn Veiled, sub-human pieces of trash, you take your eyes away from them for a moment and they immediately turn on you! Hey, kid! Come here, back me up, this one’s going to be tough!”

“Wh-what’s it got to do with us, man?!” the terrified underling shot back, clearly no having any of this bee’s wax. “Let her run, his beef is with her, not with us!”

“Idiot, I couldn’t care less about the girl! If he’s hungry enough to hunt in daylight, he may just be desperate and may go after anyone! If he goes inside the office, we’re done for!” chastised the senior. The less experienced guard simply resigned himself, nodding and standing side by side with his colleague.

“S-say, mister guard...”

“Don’t talk to us, we have to focus on that damn Veiled! We drop our guard for a second he’ll-- Urk...!”

“...How come you are just security guards, and yet pack guns? Hmm, mister guard? Why, oh why, would that be?”

The older guard plummeted and began convulsing on the floor, foaming at the mouth, his neck pulsating with veins, scraping at the ground helplessly with curled fingers. Before the rookie guard could react, the girl had already begun dashing towards him. He took a wild swing, a panicked reaction more than anything, which she gracefully ducked under, grabbing him by the shoulders with both hands and hitting him in the crotch with an ascending knee, putting all of her weight behind the attack while pulling herself towards him by the shoulder to maximize this ball-busting critical to infernal heights.

“Grrkk!”

As the guard crumpled, submerged in pain and his eyes spinning, he felt a hand grasp his head from behind, smashing his face against the asphalt.

“Do not make any noise or I’ll pierce your jugular,” Lisbeth explain with a calm, neutral voice. “If you scream, talk, or move in any way that I don’t particularly like...”

Lisbeth deliberately placed her free hand in his field of vision. The pale hand with long fingers, like a piano player’s, had a distinctive feature: A hole in the palm. Then, suddenly, a stake-like spike protruded from the hole, long, thick, and deadly, a single droplet of an indigo substance dripping from the tip.

“You see this? This is my ‘syringe’. You know how it hurts like hell when a bee stings? Well, that’s because of the venom more than the sting itself. You see that dear chum over there undergoing cardiac arrest? He got nice and intimate with the venom dripping from this here syringe, and for the low, low price of your noncooperation, you can join him right this moment, so you’ll tell me and give me what I want, or you can have a hot date with Saint Peter and tell him all about how it felt like when your bodily functions all shot down one by one as your body burned from within. Alternatively, nod thrice if you wish to cooperate and walk away from this one instead.”

And thrice he nodded.

“I want to enter this building. Nod once if I can walk in, nod twice if I need a key or any sort of verification.” The guard nodded once, but Lisbeth simply sighed, not particularly convinced. “I have some nice, nice sodium thiopental on me. That’s nerdspeak for ‘truth serum’, and overdosing you on that will not only get me what I want, but also leave you with lasting neurological damage, so please, be a darling and just dispense the... Uh, spill the... Aw, shucks, what was the term... The beans! Yes, please, deposit all of the beans here, if you would”.

After some silence, he nodded twice and whispered, “the keys are on my left vest pocket. Slow day, so no one is in aside from us, a couple of more guys, and Mister Clement,” his voice cracking once or twice during the sentence.

“And how’s the building’s layout? Any basements? Three paltry floors can’t be all this delightful office has to offer, hm?”

“...Who are y--”

The guard immediately felt pressure from Lisbeth’s spike threatening to bore a hole in his jugular. “Hey, now, love, don’t answer a question with a question. Where I come from, that gets you injected with neurotoxins.”

“...It’s got a large basement, two floors, you can only get there via the elevator. This is really all I know, I just started working here two weeks ago, please, you don’t have to do this!”

“Hmmmm... Ok! I’ll be taking this key, then, now... On your feet. Slowly.”

Taking the key, Lisbeth helped the terrified man stand up, and patted him one the shoulder. “See? I told you you could walk away!” But before the guard could take one step forward, Lisbeth’s wicked thorn found purchase on his left arm.

“Wh-what!? I thought we ha--” but her hand immediately covered his mouth.

“I said you could walk away, but I didn’t specify you’d do so alive. Now, be a darling and make a nice show for me, hm?”

The guard cursed her, or at least attempted to do so, but whatever words he intended to use were lost in his pained screaming as he burst into flames almost instantly. What Lisbeth injected him with wasn’t poison or a neurotoxin, it was something far more sinister, one of the many shames of human ingenuity, a reminder that somewhere out there, a scientist once thought “what if I could make the world burn?”. Napalm, injected directly to the bloodstream. “Why in the world did you think I told you to nod in order to communicate? The moment you spoke, you spoiled our agreement, Not talking was literally the second instruction I gave you,” the blonde muttered to herself.

With deft agility, Lisbeth left the smoldering man to scream and run at his leisure as she hid back in her back alley, the slow chemical painfully, slowly burning him away like the loudest candle in the fair, prompting a group of seven men burst out of the building to pursue the burning sod not long after. As they futilely tried to put out the napalm flames, stubborn as a mule as they are, Lisbeth simply dusted off her coat and her pelt, calmly wearing them again. A black jacket with elegant gold details with matching black pants and boots, a pelt of a two-headed wolf providing a feral contrast to her elegant attire, and a pointed hat, right out of the witches’ tales. From her second satchel, Lisbeth produced her last item: A blank, featureless mask, which covered her face while still letting locks of her cream blonde hair spill in front of it.

As the men were distracted by their doomed companions, one weakly twitching as the poison devoured him from within, the other flailing wildly and making a commotion, Lisbeth calmly walked inside the building unnoticed.

“If they are speaking like that oh so openly about the Veiled, then this might be worth checking out,” a somewhat annoyed Lisbeth remarked, indulging in her habit of conversing with herself.

                                                        ---------

Carpeted floor, old metal cabinets, and steel chairs neatly lined up in front of a TV comprised the interior of the supposed Law Firm. Sure enough, this looked like an accommodating waiting room for consultations and other such licitations. The illusion would hold up pretty well if it weren’t for the rather sizable amount of armed men that stormed out of the building mere moments ago. As fun and wholesome as a man undergoing cardiac arrest next to someone burning to death can be, these are merely distractions and won’t last forever. Understanding this, Lisbeth took a good look at the building’s frame, lightly but quickly knocking on the walls to see which walls were hollow and which were firm, giving knowing nods after each tock tock and each knock knock. With a good idea of which walls were essential and which weren’t in the thankfully simply designed structure, Lisbeth took a deep breath and concentrated.

“...I say, I loathe doing this every time, but you gotta do what you gotta do... Here goes nothing. Can’t afford to skim it with all these guys packing heat” the masked girl murmured as she chatted with herself, halfheartedly laughing. One or two unsuspecting fools were one thing, but seven angry, buff men? Lisbeth shall take a rain check on that, thank you very much.

The veins in the blonde’s arm bulged as her arm was suddenly grew red and swollen, then purple and grotesque, and finally almost black and fully sickening. With some clearly pained grunting, the arm’s mass finally began to subside, and as it did, a clay-like, brick red substance came out of the hole in her hand. “Hurts like hell every damn time...”, she lamented as she spread some of it on the door frame, on the crevasse behind the reception desk, under the rug, and in a couple of other places. On each of the little mounds of clay, she stuck a little pin. Without looking back and while clutching her pained arm, Lisbeth made her way to the elevator. It was an old model with rusty binder-style curtain doors. A little plaque to the left of it read “Authorized Personnel Only”. She simply snorted and pressed the unlabeled button on the bottom of the panel, descending where, hopefully, the truth awaited her.

                                                       ---------

The stagnant air of the dark basement wasn’t the worst aspect of it at all. In stark contrast with the pristine, welcoming presentation of the first floor, this basement was putrid. Crude wooden tables, assorted bottles of alcohol, a dart board (with no bullseyes on it, tragically enough), a table of billiards, and plenty of nasty looking utensils right out of a cheap gore B-movie. For someone with a mask, Lisbeth’s expression sure screamed “disgusted and furious”. It seems no one was home, at least not on this floor, but the same couldn’t be said about the first floor anymore. Footsteps, and many of them, tumbled and stomped above Lisbeth’s head. Calmly producing a small controller-like device, Lisbeth pressed the red button with an “>:)” emblazoned on it, a symphony of explosions and screams filling the air with the harmony of a trap well set and executed. Before she could celebrate, however, an unexpected scream came from the end of the hallway, something between terror and surprise in a beautiful if somewhat grating high pitch.

“Who’s there!? Please, by all means, make a sudden move so I can melt your face off with a clear conscience!” Lisbeth yelled at the source of the scream, receiving no answer. Protruding spikes from both of her hands, she cautiously advanced towards what looked like a cell at the end of a poorly lit hallway. Inside the cell, a little girl with long, thin horns huddled to the corner, terrified, tears streaming down her face. She was very thing and no doubt ill, if her labored breathing was any indication.

“P-please... Don’t... Don’t...”

Lisbeth came to a full stop upon realizing just whose face she threatened to melt off. “Ah, no, wait, hold on, I’m not one of th--”

“Stay away! What did I do to you people!? Why are you doing this to me! I want my mom! Stay away!” snapped the child, throwing a dog’s bowl that seemed to be from where she’d been eating the last few days. The sight couldn’t be more lamentable.

“Jeez... Yeah, of course you’d be wary if I look like this...” Lisbeth muttered to herself, for once cursing her choice of attire. Before she could sulk anymore, however, a light bulb shone above her head. “Hey, hey, I’m not going to get close, I just wanna show you something nice. Look at my hand.”

“...?” the child’s curiosity was roused, and she intently looked at the black-clad girl’s hand. The distinctive glove she wore lacked fabric where the palm is, kind of like fingerless gloves except an aggregate of one hundred times more pretentious. What caught her eye, however, wasn’t the strange glove, it was the hole in the center of her palm. Before she could craft a question about it in her tiny little mouth, however, a gentle jet of cold air blew from it, and soon after, beautiful snowflakes filled the cell. “W-wow! Snow...!? I’ve never seen snow! It’s so pretty! How are you doing that?”

As she produced more snowflakes with one hand, Lisbeth slowly removed her mask with the other, a friendly smile meeting the child’s cheerful expression. “By gently blowing a controlled amount of liquid nitrogen, I can freeze the natural humidity in the air, that is, the small amount of water in the air just enough to cause it to crystallize! In this way, if I manage the output in relation to room temperature and, if applicable, altitude, I can--” but she quickly shut her own mouth when she noticed the horribly perplexed expression on the poor child’s face.

“...U-uhh...?”

“...Magic, my dear friend!”

“Wow!”

Sometimes, less is more.

“My name is Lisbeth. Lisbeth Elstad,” she kindly explained as she approached slowly, until she finally was next to the child. “I have a hypothesis that your name must be really cute, given how cute you are, so would you mind sharing it with me? For science, of course.”

“I’m Marcela Toreca!” the child answered, no longer afraid of Lisbeth.

“Hypothesis confirmed! What a nice name, you little sweetling... Say, I need to ask you a few things, but if it becomes too hard to answer, don’t sweat it, ok? I’m here to more or less dismantle the place. How... How long have you been here? Why are you here?”

Marcela’s face immediately went grim again, tears welling in her eyes. “They... They kidnapped me. Snatched me when I was on the park with mama and papa, I saw them beat them up, yelled at them over something, and I’ve been here for four days. They... They were going to sell me tomorrow, and they, they sometimes would take the branding iron there and--”

Whatever came after that, Lisbeth didn’t hear as she hugged the child close. “Tug on the pelt. Grab it with all of your might and tug on it. Try to rip it if you want. Don’t say anything else, just rip and tug.” And so the child did, gripping the wolf pelt with all the strength her little hands could muster, pulling at it. It wasn’t necessary to make her relive those events anymore. “Marcela, your skin is pretty pale, and I noticed you have trouble breathing. I’m kind of in a hurry here, so I can’t really check you thoroughly, but I have a shot that’ll help you.”

The child shook with a single, potent goosebump. “U-uh, no, I’m fi--”

“You aren’t afraid of shots, aren’t you, darling? My, my, and here I thought I’d show you some more snow tricks, but alas, they are only for brave kids!”

“Uuuh... F-fine! I ain’t afraid of no needle!”

Lisbeth couldn’t help but smile. Producing a long, thin syringe filled with a green liquid from one of her satchels, Lisbeth gently held Marcela’s wrist and extended her arm. “Ok now! Close your eyes and don’t open them no matter what, ok? It won’t take more than a minute.”

With a nod and a smile, Marcela closed her eyes. Lisbeth discreetly put away the syringe and protruded one of her hand spikes, gently pressing it against a vein on Marcela’s arm and pumping her full of vitamins, nutrients, and mild energizers. Then, after retracting her spike, Lisbeth produced a different, empty syringe from her satchel. “Ok, open your eyes now.”

“...Did I do good?”

“Now, don’t tell anyone I said this, but I’ve met plenty of kickass kids in my time, but you? Easily the kickassest... Kickassetest? You did great.”

The little horned girl couldn’t help but smile. “Miss... Are you going to get me out of here?”

Lisbeth gestured a cross with both of her index fingers. “Not if you call me ‘Miss’ again! Lis is fine, I’m not much older than you. I’ll get you out of here, but first, I need to finish my own business here. Once I’m done with that, I assure you that no one will hound you again, and I’ll take you back outside. So be good like hydrogen and stay put here until I’m done, ok?”

“No! I-I’ll help you, Lis! Th-that guy has a weird trick! He shot my dad from the front, but the bullet hit him in the back somehow! If you go in alone, he’ll kill you! I’m strong, I’ll help you!” the resolute little Marcela declared, putting up her little dukes.

“...Ah, how am I gonna say no to this? Ok, but on one condition: I have a special potion that will help you become stronger. You can come with me only, and only if you take it. Howzat sound?”

“Fine! Even if it’s another i-injection,” -- Marcela’s voice cracked -- “I’ll accompany Lis! Give it to me!”

“Hmhm! Brave little pancake, ain’tcha? Ok, here’s the potion.”

With a sudden yet gentle and careful motion, Lis’ palm cradled the petite girl’s face, a mildly sweet and ether-like odor blanketing Marcela’s nostrils. The tiny girl quickly collapsed, Lisbeth catching her and settling her down gently. “A jet of chloroform always gets the job done, doesn’t it? Sleep tight, Marcela.”

Wearing her mask once anew, the resolute girl made her way to the staircase at the end of the poorly lit corridor, making sure her footsteps would be silent, the unexplored second basement floor beckoning every violent urge in her already trembling body. Tilting her mask sideways just slightly, Lisbeth nibbled on the tip of one of her spikes, “snacking” on liquid diazepam to calm herself. “Let’s have some words, you and I, Mister Clement...”

                                                      ---------

The second floor basement was vastly different. It wasn’t luxurious by any definition, but it didn’t feel cramped, had no cells, and felt more like a little gathering spot with touches of mancave, given the plenty bookcases, billiards table, bar, and other such “classy” entertainment staples, all of which would have had an endearing air were it not for the whole Veiled trafficking. If anything, it’s correct to say this place wasn’t luxurious yet, as it was clear it was slowly but surely being furnished little by little to resemble some sort of mafia underground hangout, the kind wacky and villainous art collectors seem to always have in the movies. At the far end of the spacious basement, on an elevated section, not yet carpeted, a large leather chair with two arms barely peeking on the arm rest were Lisbeth’s goal. That had to be Clement. Controlling her breathing and making sure her footsteps were silent, the girl managed no more than three steps before a voice froze her in place.

“That’s far enough, madame. You seriously didn’t think you’d be able to sneak up on me after detonating bombs on the first floor, right?”

In a split second and with her eyes wide with shock, Lisbeth tumbled out of the way, a bullet grazing her left shoulder from behind, a little grunt escaping her lips. The chair turned around, and sitting on it was a man in his early 30s, slicked back black hair with piercing blue eyes, his exquisite white suit looked less like a legal adviser’s and more like an hedonist’s pajamas, save for the single glove he wore over his right hand, and dung beetles everywhere in the world felt a strange sense of attraction to his shit eating grin. “You made me wait quite a bit, Exter. I hope you have a good reason to have made a mess of my office without a warrant. And here I thought I had made a good network. So, who snitched on me? I bet it was Harland! I always suspected him of being an undercover rat, hah!”

“Hah, don’t lump me together with those wusses. Exter’s aren’t worth the filth stuck to the sole of my boots. I’m here on behalf of no one but myself. I just wanted to have a little chat with you, see? I need to know the legality of disfiguring someone’s face with a lead pipe, Mister Lawman, so please help me out here.”

“...Hold on, you’re not an Exter?” Clement first looked genuinely confused for a second, and then simply let out a guffaw. “Ahahah! Oh, well, slap my ass and call me Cindy! You, you’re here alone? Unaffiliated? Well, that makes things easier.” Without further ado, he pointed the gun at Lisbeth and pulled the trigger. The sound very distinctly came from the pistol, but the bullet struck Lisbeth square in the back, making her lurch forward momentarily before she collapsed with a pained wimper. “If you’re not with anyone, then I have no interest in whatever information I can get out of you.”

“Why, that’s very rude, mister Clement, heh,” the girl laughed as she slowly rose from the ground. none the worse for wear. “At least let me finish talking. I suspected you’d have one of those after a little tip I got from a certain girl, but seeing you fire it confirmed it. That right there is a Rennard DZ87 ‘Mitsuhide’, isn’t it? Also known as the ‘Backshooter’, a popular enchanted handgun.”

Clement simply scratched his head. “Huh... Hey, how come you didn’t die? People usually do when I shoot them.”

“Ballistic gelatin,” explained the girl, tapping her back. “Never go in without some preparation. Put some there when I heard you had a habit of shooting people’s backs. I got some bad news for you, sweetheart, but that gun right there is useless. All the DZ87 does is use basic portal magic to teleport the bullet at the muzzle to a portal behind whatever is on its crosshairs. It’s an effective gun if you’re fighting completely mundane people or rookies, but otherwise, it’s just a gimmicky gun for, as the more crass denizens of the streets would say, pussies.”

“You mean to tell me you carry ballistic freaking gelatin with you everywhere you go? Why not just wear kevlar?”

“Good question! Why don’t you come a little close to good ol’ Lis and find out for yourself?”

The foes locked eyes for some silent moments, and when the calm was over, the storm began. Lisbeth produced some sort of little rubbery object, akin to an uninflated balloon, and pressed it against her hand’s hole, quickly filling it with a light green liquid, and the “balloon” filled, it gradually lost elasticity until it became a perfectly sealed glass orb, full of the liquid. This whole process happened in a second, and without losing any more time, she lobbed it Clement-wards, who dodged the flung weapon.

“Throwing balls versus a pistol? You must be out of your m--!”

Clement had to call a rain check on his very important taunting, however, when he heard the glass orb shatter behind him. The liquid inside the orb, as soon as it made contact with air, burst into a noxious miasma, a toxic gas that threatened to blanket him. Rapidly reacting, Clement leaped down from his high ground, evading the toxic gas, but before he knew it, Lisbeth was already making a rush for him, spikes hungry for his veins protruding from her palms. Clement took aim, and as he was pulling the trigger, Lisbeth turned her back to him.

“What...? Idiot, you could at least try to dodge the bullet instead of giving your back to m--Urgh!”

The gun went off, but the one struck was Clement. As he double over in pain, a swift kick from Lisbeth disarmed him, and another right on the chin floored him.

“Didn’t I explain before? The DZ87 makes a portal behind whatever is in its crosshairs. No one uses Mitsuhides on real combat anymore because of how utterly simplistic, outdated, and unreliable they are. All I had to do was give my back to you while being sufficiently close to you, and the portal, still technically behind me, is generated at a fixed distance, which happens to put you between the bullet and I. Even at the apex of their popularity, Mitsuhides were a side arm, and never a main weapon. You’d use the Mitsuhide with another firearm or weapon to keep your opponent guessing. If the bullet is always going to come from behind, it becomes trivial to deal with it,” the spiked girl explained with a matter-of-fact tone, almost as if dealing with a child. “You’ve never fought anything more dangerous than the parents of the innocent Veiled whose children you’ve abducted, am I right?”

“H-hey now, please! I’m just a lawyer! No need to get-- Hey, you said you wanted info, right? I’ll talk, I’ll talk! Just please promise you won’t kill me!”

Lisbeth’s eyes were looking not at a human being, but at garbage right now. “You’re quite the honest person, are you not? Talk, before I change my mind.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Clement said almost as if worshiping her. “...Hold on, before I start, you might want to do something about that Minotaur over there. She’s looking sickly, and, well, we haven’t fed her in two days,” the host explained as he pointed behind Lisbeth, towards the elevator.

“What!? Marcela, did you wake up alre--”

As soon as she turned around, something cold and sharp like the beak of a scythe found purchase on Lisbeth’s right side, sinking deep into her. She spat blood and fumbled her feet a bit before a kick sent her barreling to the floor, fresh vermilion spilling out of her wound.

“Hey, Miss Lecture, maybe don’t take your eyes off your enemy, dumbass.”

As Lisbeth turned around, Clement dipped his left hand on some of the blood left behind by her and used it to slick his hair back again. It had to be his left hand, after all, because his right arm was currently a massive metallic sickle. Moments later, the sickle turned back into a prosthetic arm.

“A Technomancer!?”

“Yup. That ‘dee zee’... Whatever you called it pistol was just insurance. I do practice some magic of my own, I mean, you’d have to be crazy not to if you’re in this business.” Clement’s jovial explanation ceased immediately after he noticed not as much blood as he expected was flowing “Hm? I thought the wound was deeper, you’re not dead yet. Again. You’re starting to piss me off, girl.” To be fair to Clement, it is pretty frustrating when people won’t die.

Upon closer inspection, Lisbeth was indeed wounded and bleeding but the wolf pelt had not been pierced at all. It was the impact itself more than any slashing damage that harmed Lisbeth. “And once again, she saved me...” Lisbeth murmured, clutching the pelt tightly before standing up.

Clement’s assault continued, his mechanical arm changing shapes to axes and swords and sickles, trying to mince Lisbeth into a pile of flesh and agony, but she kept her body parts where they should be by evading the attacks. However, it wasn’t graceful dodging, it was more akin to a headless chicken trying not to get diced up, something Clement picked up on. It was almost as if Lisbeth was afraid. As Clement advanced on her with a sword-arm, Lisbeth put chairs and other pieces of furniture between them, obstacles that were easily cleft in twain by the Technomancer.

“...Hm? Oh... Oh! I see!” Clement declared, his eyes shining with the light of realization. “You... You are deadly afraid. You piece of shit kid. You clothes made it hard to notice, but now that I get a good look at you, not only are you just a kid, you’re trembling in your boots.”

“...Oh, please, of course my body language is going to be all weird during a life or death situation!”

“No.” boldly interrupted Clement, calling Lisbeth out on her bluff. “That’s not merely adrenaline, that’s fear. I know fear when I see it. When you abduct Veiled, you see fear. When their children are abducted, you see fear. When leave them beaten bloody as you take their children, you see fear. In your body language, demeanor, and words, I see it, girl. I see fear. You can’t fool a merchant of fear in the subject of his trade.”

“S-shut up, I’m two steps away from killing you, what the hell do you know!?” Lisbeth yelled back, losing her cool.

“I understand it, even! Girl, you dispatched my men and casually strolled in because it all went according to your plan. You’re very smart, I’ll give you that, but the moment things went off the rails, the moment things stopped going according to your plan... You panicked. The moment you saw my mechanical arm, your whole facade fell through. You expected a punk ass bitch with a gun, but you found a Technomancer instead. You do not know how to play it by ear!”

“...!” One didn’t have to look at Lisbeth’s face behind her mask to know she had been read like an open book. As if to confirm Clement’s words, Lisbeth filled two more orbs with a white powder and recklessly, or it’d be more accurate to say sloppily, threw them at his assailant. The lawyer simply snatched one of the air with his left hand, while moved out of the way of the other. As it landed on the floor, the orb shattered, causing a small explosion that left a little, short lived fire where it landed. 

“...White phosphorous, huh? It’s what they use in incendiary rounds, if I have my chemistry right. Still, a fire that little means you were very sloppy in producing it. Maybe, the quality of the things that come out of those holes in your hands depends on your focus. Pissing your pants as you are right now, you can’t even make a proper explosion, I’d wager,” Clement summarized, taking his sweet time in purpose to fully indulge in the helplessness of the girl in front him. “What kind of magic is this? I’ve never seen anything like it. You can just make things with those holes? It’s some sort of Conjuration or Alchemy, if I had to take a shot in the dark... It looks more like playing with chemicals more than any real magic. Just some artificial cheap tricks, perfect for an artificial cheap girl who has to fake her bravery! I’ll have plenty of time to see how it all works after I cut your arms off.”

Lisbeth’s response was to throw more orbs, but nothing worked against him in this chaotic state of mind. The plan had gone awry, and Lisbeth no longer knew what to do. Why? How come someone who got this far today was suddenly so inept and incompetent? Why was she suddenly a scared little nobody, when she had been oh so efficient mere minutes ago?

Well, the answer is simple.

“...Kudos to you, kid,” Clement chided, half seriously, half in jest. “It takes balls to do what you did when you are such a massive coward. That mask, that outfit, it’s all out to evoke fear, to make you look big, eh?”

“Shut up!” Lisbeth retorted, producing her spikes and lunging at Clement with a panicked leap, only to meet a metallic hammer-arm face first, her body being flung to a bookcase like a helpless rag doll as her mask clattered against the floor. As she tried to get on her feet, her body simply wouldn’t comply.

“Ahh... Ahh... Damn it, come on, stand...! Hhr...! That’s two or three ribs... Come on! Stand up! W-wait, where is my mask... Where is it...!”

“You know,” Clement continued, talking leisurely as the fight was as good as won. “I didn’t know what I expected behind that mask, but it sure as hell wasn’t an ugly ass kid with tears streaming down her face. I feel like a god damned idiot for having been tricked by you in the first place. As soon as I am done with you, I’m going to take it out on that little shit upstairs. You have only yourself to blame.”

“You...! Why do you kidnap Veiled children!? Is human trafficking that fun!? Are you really that desperate for some cash!?” the furious Lisbeth lashed out, crawling away from him, huddling against the bookcase she was flung against.

Clement simply blinked. “It’s not human trafficking, though? It’s just Veiled kids, no biggie.”

“...What?”

“Oh, come on, it’s just some garbage from the other side that shouldn’t be here in the first place! I wouldn’t do this with an actual fucking person, get real! Its just a Veiled! It’s like cattle! You take the young, and let the old make more young, and then take them again! It’s good business.”

“Good business, huh...? I see, it’s good business. Ripping children away from their parents is good business to you... So we are just good business to you, huh? Good to know, really good to know!”

“Hm? Wh--”

Clement had seen fear plenty of times, but there was something else he was very familiar with: Anger. He saw anger every time a Veiled parent would have their children taken away from them. He saw anger every time a Veiled children would get sold off to the highest bidder. He saw anger every time a helpless parent tried their hardest and was beaten to a pulp by him and his thugs. He knew anger when he saw it, and right now?

Lisbeth’s face wasn’t one of fear, not exclusively. She was afraid, for sure, but there was something far more potent that that in her lithe frame right now, causing it to shake not from fear anymore.

And that was the blistering, white, hot anger that her silver eyes exuded with naught an attempt to curb it.

Protruding her hand spikes, Lisbeth impaled herself and let out a primal scream as her veins bulged unnaturally. Not two seconds later, she less jumped and more exploded towards Clement with far more force and speed than her body type and musculature would suggest, quickly releasing a burst of liquid nitrogen to encase her right hand in a block of ice that smashed against the face of the Technomancer, his world spinning for a second. He swiped back at her, catching her with a well placed right hook, a literal hook, mind you, that should have pierced her real well. And it would have, had it not been for the ice shield Lisbeth quickly made with another burst of liquid nitrogen to intercept the hook. Clement acted fast, however, and used his regular hand to streak a punch right across the girl’s face with all of his strength. Surely, with their weight and height differences, she really should’ve felt this one, right?

Nope.

Unfazed, Lisbeth swung her left hand this time as if to respond in kind, a white phosphorous-enhanced flaming uppercut that connected squarely with his jaw, quickly followed by another meteoric downwards hammer punch from the frozen hand, making him spit blood and a molar.

“S-shit, what the hell! How the hell...!”

“I pumped myself full of steroids and painkillers, darling. You are so, as they say on less reputable streets, fucked right now!”

Clement desperately turned his arm into a blade again and lunged at her, and surprisingly, found purchase, piercing the girl... And then, she grabbed onto the arm, and pulled him closer and closer.

“...! Did you intentionally...!? Wait, wait, are you nuts?! Wait!”

“Nuts? No, just desperate and short on time. Bare your neck.”

Clement’s begging fell on empty ears as Lisbeth’s left hand, swollen and charred with the burns from her own fire punch, protruded that nasty, flesh-hungry spike that quickly found its way to the veins in his neck, injecting something that quickly paralyzed Clement and made him burn from within. Pulling herself away from the arm that was currently running her through, Lisbeth, who wobbled and struggled to walk straight, one hand pressed tightly against her wound, approached his (obviously pretentious) whiskey cabinet, poured herself a glass, and drank it in one shot.

“...Even your taste in whiskey fucking sucks,” she quipped. Getting four more glasses, she lined them up in front of the poisoned Clement, and filled each with different, strange liquids directly from her hand holes. The first one was electric blue, the next, transparent, like water, followed by a light green liquid, and last but not least, a brown, sludge-like substance.

“Alright, Clement, we’re going to play something I like to call the Apothecary's Game. The rules are simple: In front of you are four glasses. Three of them are poison, but one of them is an antidote to the poison I just injected you with.”

“...What the hell is this?” Clement snarled, unable to move but seemingly able to speak.

“I didn’t give you a full dose of the venom, just enough to disable you... For now, anyways. That dose will turn lethal, given enough time, so your clock is ticking. Now, you can try and pick one of the glasses in front of you, giving you a 25% chance of picking the right choice. Pick wrong, however, and you will have drank a full dose of another poison. The two venoms in you will react really, really badly together, and you’ll die slowly and very painfully. Here’s where it gets fun!” -- Lisbeth cheerfully announced as she fastened her mask back in place, back in-character -- “If you give me information I want, and I believe you, I’ll take away one of the duds. Give me three answers I am looking for, and you’ll only be left with the antidote! Fair, isn’t it?”

“Fair like a gun to the temple, you maniac...”

“That’s rich coming from the child kidnapper. Alright, question one: How did you get this gig rolling? I heard you once worked with one Mister Sibbens, but he doesn’t seem to be around today.”

“...I killed Sibbens.” -- it seems Clement had given up on lying, fearing the repercussions of being caught -- “We originally only took cases that involved Veiled trying to get a citizenship here on the Human World. Sibbens was very much a philanthropist in this regard, and would sometimes not even charge Veiled if they didn’t have the means...”

“And you, of course, didn’t like that very much.”

“Heh, nope, not at all. I studied law to get paid accordingly, not to run a charity, much less one for sub-human freaks. Eventually, I staged his death, pinned the blame on a Veiled, and what do you know? The Exters fully bought into it.”

Lisbeth grabbed the glass with the light green fluid and tossed it across the room. “That’s one dud down. How did you get away with it for so long?”

“I still take cases, see? Veiled cases. I defend them, I vouch for them, I get them their citizenships, and play the part of the hero. I use a system much like the ‘decimation’ of the Roman Army: Every tenth Veiled family that comes, I get my boys to abduct their kids and threaten them to keep silent or risk getting their children killed. Even if they speak out against me, I have a bunch of other Veiled that will defend me, as I got them their citizenship for cheap. Then, I sell the Veiled kids in the black market for high prices. Pretty good system that guarantees no one snitches on you and, if they do, nothing happens anyways... Well, at least until an ugly masked bitch ruined it all.”

Lisbeth, however, didn’t react at all for a few seconds, and simply tossed the glass with the blue liquid away after a short delay. “It’s always money for your type, huh? That’s all we amount to when placed in front of you and your money: Obstacles to be removed, the consequences be damned. Ripping families apart is just so fun to you, isn’t it? Bad whiskey and a tacky mancave justifies it all for you, I gather. Last question: Were you involved in what happened to the White Silhouette?”

Clement looked visibly puzzled. “White... Silhouette? As in, the extremely efficient and deadly Doppel corps? They got crushed mysteriously some time ago, didn’t they?”

Lisbeth nodded. “Were you involved?”

“Not at all, I’m not that big of a player.”

“And do you know who could have done it? Do you have any clues? Any idea of where one could begin to look for answers?”

“I’ve seriously no idea of who could’ve done that... Why do you care so much for that?”

“I’m the one making the questions, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah... But really, I’ve nothing to do with that, nor do I know who could have done it.”

“...Alright.” Lisbeth sighed, grabbing the glass with the transparent liquid and tossing it. “You’ve earned it. Here’s the antidote.” And just as she said that, Lisbeth also tossed away the antidote, the glass shattering against a bookcase, staining several books with the brown sludge. 

“Wh-what the fuck!? We had a deal!”

“It wasn’t a deal, it was a game. I don’t deal with serial kidnappers, and even less with lawyers. Kindly fuck off to the afterlife, please.” As if to call the curtain on this horrible specimen, Lisbeth’s spike dug into his neck one last time, pumping him full of the venom, making Clement undergo seizures as he bled from his eyes and frothed at the mouth, an ugly end for an ugly man.

Examining the elevated section where Lisbeth first spotted Clement, the Alchemist found a computer, conveniently on and accessible. Gripping her silver cross pendant, Lisbeth pulled on its bottom to remove what seemed to be a detachable section akin to a cap, revealing a USB drive. Plugging it into the computer, Lisbeth copied and pasted everything she could find in the terminal to it. Once she was done, Lisbeth copied an executable program onto the desktop, unplugged her drive, and ran the program, bricking the computer in mere seconds.

“...Until I am done going through this data, I can’t know for sure if he lied or not, but it seems he’s unrelated, making this a waste of time for the most part. Well, at least the world is one child kidnapper down...” And as she walked one, one could swear she also said “...And one lawyer down...” under her breath.

Putting the cap on her USB drive, Lisbeth called for the elevator, feebly and barely holding herself together, the kickback from the steroids and the waning effect of the painkillers making her really feel her sustained wounds. “...Better just bear with it... If I keep injecting this stuff, I’ll really OD...”

                                                     ---------

The sky grew pink over the Clement & Sibbens Law Firm office. Bodies and rubble adorned the first floor of the building as Lisbeth emerged from the elevator with the still asleep Marcela in her arms. Carrying her away, Lisbeth noticed, much to her relief, that despite there having been a literal explosion, it seems authorities were not yet in the area. “...The fact that they’ve taken so long to come check this out means they knew this was a front. I wonder how many of the local cops are under Clement’s pockets... Well, were under his pockets. Still, I should hurry.”

As she walked away through the back alleys and away from more populated areas, Lisbeth collapsed, both her and Marcela meeting the ground, unable to go on any longer with her wounds, particularly her broken ribs and the lower left side of her torso, which had been completely run through with Clement’s blade-arm. As much as she produced morphine in her body, she had accumulated far more damage than she could handle. As she lay on the floor, bleeding out, Lisbeth couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief.

It was all so scary. It can finally end. She did her best, right? This much was enough. Time and time again, she ended up in terrifying situations, acting as if she was on top of it all where in reality all she wanted was to scream. The mask looked intimidating, but it was all to conceal her terrified expression and her crying. She couldn’t help crying during battle. These clothes were so heavy, the pelt was so asphyxiating, both physically and mentally, an eternal reminder of who she must avenge.

But none of that mattered now, right? She could go. She could finally rest. She tried her best. Oluwasanmi and the Mercury Witch would welcome her in the afterlife, after so long, right? She could almost see them, the gentle giant and the rowdy witch, arms spread open, waiting for her...

“...Bullshit...”

It was only a matter of walking to the end of the light, where Father and Mother awaited her...

“...They aren’t my parents...”

Mere footsteps away...

“They never found the fucking bodies! They aren’t dead! Until I see the bodies, I won’t--”

Of course it’s never that easy. Even cowards have their pride. Even if a coward hates every moment of it, once cornered, once pressured, they will bare their fangs. It’s not that Lisbeth has nothing to lose, it’s that she lost it all already.

Some might take that as a sign to call it quits.

But Lisbeth isn’t like that.

Lisbeth shot awake, but the blinding pain caused by her sudden movement immediately made her inch back onto the bed. Wait... Bed?

“...Where... Just where am I?”

“Well, good morning, Miss Hero.”

White sheets, a window, medical equipment, and a woman in a suit sitting on the other side of the room. This was a hospital if she ever saw one.

“How...”

“How did you get here? Well, one Miss Marcela Toreca called us from a payphone, emergency call, and told us where to find you. It seems your good deed saved your life.”

“Marcela--! Where is she!?”

“Relax. She’s in the room adjacent to this one, she’s--”

“Malnutritioned and has a case of Plonar’s Disease! If we don’t treat the gangrene on the base of her horns, she might become a vegetable or even die!”

The woman in the suit whistled and clapped. “Well, now, that’s quite the accurate diagnosis. You are correct on all accounts and she’s being treated. You’ll be delighted to know her parents were contacted and they are in there, too. They really want to thank you for saving their disappeared daughter.”

Upon hearing this, Lisbeth visibly sank into her bed. “Ah... Well, that’s good to know... But now, you... Are no nurse, are you?”

The suited woman simply giggled. “Indeed I am not. Miss ‘Lisbeth’, was it? Unless you fed Marcela a false name, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance... Now, on behalf of the California NEST of Exters, I have some questions I’d like you to answer. And please don’t try to, ah, finesse your way out of this one. I’ll tell you right now we have the whole building surrounded.”

“...It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice, then,” Lisbeth murmured, clearly displeased.

“Whether that is your name or not is irrelevant, really, because we know something for sure, courtesy of that tattoo on the back of your hand, Miss White Silhouette.”

“...Ah.”

Just now realizing she had been stripped of all her clothes to be put in a hospital gown, that also included her gloves, and with her gloves gone, the Canis Major tattoo on the back of her left hand was fully visible. 

“A genuine article, too. So you’re the sole survivor of the White Silhouette, huh? Well, Miss Lisbeth, we can’t have an ex-Doppel just running around in Exter turf like this, you no doubt understand. Depending on your cooperation, we might be able to reach some sort of compromise. I am sure we can both benefit from this, hmhm.”

Lisbeth could only listen to this office fox flap her gums. With the damage she sustained, she knew better than anyone, better than any of these doctors, that her body would break down should she try anything. It seems the gig was finally up.

It was this encounter that brought the story of “Lisbeth Elstad” to an end and that marked the beginning of the story “Lisbeth Elstad, Exter”, a story about a coward who has decide to face everything to recover what she lost, even if all she can recover is ‘closure’.

But that story is one for another day, for another medium.

[nancydsmithus]

Smashing Magazine Is Thirteen!

Smashing Magazine Is Thirteen!

Rachel Andrew

2019-09-06T12:00:59+02:002019-09-06T10:45:19+00:00

This week, Smashing Magazine turned thirteen years old. The web has changed a lot since Vitaly posted his first article back in 2006. The team at Smashing has changed too, as have the things that we bring to our community — with conferences, books, and our membership added to the online magazine.

One thing that hasn’t changed is that we’re a small team — with most of us not working fulltime for Smashing. Many in the team, however, have been involved with the magazine since the early days. You may not know them by name, but you will have enjoyed and benefited from their work. I enjoyed finding out what everyone gets up to outside of Smashing, and also how they came to be involved — I hope that you will, too.

Vitaly Friedman is the person you probably think of when you think of Smashing Magazine, and rightfully so. He posted his first article to the site on September 2nd, 2006. When asked what he likes to do outside of Smashing, he says,

“I’m a big fan of hiking, running, ironing and fruits! For me, ironing shirts is really like meditation — and I also loooooove music festivals (which is something most people don’t know about me as I tend to be quite obscure about that).”

Vitaly has done pretty much everything at Smashing at one time or another — web developer, writer, editor, designer, creative lead and curator. These days, he helps to keep us all on track with his vision for all of the Smashing things, and always has some new ideas! Vitaly (originally from Belarus) travels as much as I do, our company standups usually involve us reporting our current and next location and timezone! As you’ll discover, however, while Smashing Magazine is a German company, the team lives — or has roots — all over the world.

Iris Lješnjanin is our senior editor on the magazine, and does an amazing job maintaining communication between our many authors, editors, and reviewers. She also does the majority of the subediting work on the magazine, trying to maintain the individual voices of our authors while ensuring the articles are easy to read for our worldwide audience. She has been part of Smashing since 2010, helping to develop the brand, mentoring in-house interns, and developing the process for working with authors and editors that keeps our daily publishing schedule rolling!

Iris grew up in Abu Dhabi, UAE, after the Bosnian War broke out, and moved to Germany to pursue her degree in linguistics. As I was gathering information for this article, she explained:

“I grew up multilingual, so it’s difficult for me not to love languages. Everything from the differences in tones, melodies, rhythms and cultural undertones of various languages is what will never cease to amaze me. Since I currently live in Freiburg, German is obviously the predominant language in my daily life alongside my mother tongue (Bosnian), but I try my best to learn new ones by listening to music, reading books and newspapers, watching TV series, and so on. One thing I find funny and interesting about languages is that, at the end of the day, they’re out of our control. Just like you can’t control who you meet in life, you can’t control which languages you learn. You meet them, get to know them, and fall in love with them.”

Unless you write for Smashing, you may never encounter Iris, however, her work is a key part of everything we do — a true behind-the-scenes superstar!

Another person who does a lot of work behind-the-scenes is Cosima Mielke, who joined Smashing in 2012 for a six-month long internship and is still working with us. Cosima is our e-book producer and editor, but gets involved in far more than that. She is behind the posts in the newsletter, and the ever-popular monthly wallpapers post, and many other editorial tasks that crop up.

Cosima loves being outside in nature, riding her bike, and creating things. Her background is not web development, and she told me,

“At Smashing, I’ve gained an entirely new look at the web which I only knew from a user’s perspective before I started working here. What fascinates me most is the strong community sense in the web community, that people are so open to sharing their knowledge and the tools they build to make life easier for everyone else — without asking for anything in return.”

As we cover such a wide range of topics here at Smashing, no one person can be an expert at all of them. Therefore, Iris and I are assisted by our subject-matter editors, some of who have been with us for a very long time.

One such editor is Alma Hoffmann. Originally from Puerto Rico, she moved to the USA to study for her MFA in Graphic Design and now teaches at the University of Alabama. Like so many of our Smashing crew, Alma is bilingual, though I believe she is the only one of the team who can claim to have been a ballroom dancer!

Alma first became involved with Smashing Magazine when she wrote an article in 2010. We perhaps didn’t have the editorial process then that we do now as she got a surprise when her first draft showed up live! She remembers,

“I emailed Vitaly thanking him and since then we have been in touch. He tested the waters by sending me articles to review and in 2013, he and Iris asked me to be the design editor. I wear that title like a badge of honor. Later on, in 2017, I was invited to be a speaker at the conference in Freiburg. I had a blast and met so many interesting people!”

Another of our editors is Michel Bozgounov. Like Alma, he originally became involved with SmashingMag by writing an article. After writing a second article in 2010, Vitaly asked him if he would like to edit a section of the magazine dedicated to Adobe Fireworks. Michel wrote an article when Adobe ultimately ended work on the product, however ,he now edits articles about the newer tools that have filled the gap — such as Sketch and Figma.

In his spare time, Michel loves to draw:

“It all started a few years ago, with a notebook, a fineliner, and a few watercolor pencils that I stole from my wife. Turned out I couldn’t stop drawing and for the last three years or so I imagine and then draw on paper small bits of a strange, but kind of fascinating world that I see in my mind — the world of Monsters & Carrots. For now, this world exists nowhere else but in my notebooks, and I showed only some small parts of it on Twitter.

Michel said that through working for Smashing,

“I learned how to be a better editor, and how to be more careful with words. I consider my experience at Smashing Magazine to be invaluable. I got in touch with so many people from all over the world and developed good online and offline friendships with many of the authors, experts, and editors that I worked with. Definitely, I can say that my job at Smashing Magazine opened many new doors and changed my life in a good way.”

When it comes to UX-related content, Chui Chui is one of our wonderful editors who works with authors to cover the most up-to-date topics on the magazine. Drew McLellan has recently taken on editing the coding section of the magazine, which includes everything from PHP to HTML, to JavaScript and more! If you write for Smashing Magazine it is likely that your main editorial contact will be with one of these editors, who will work with you to make sure your article is the best it can be.

Yana Kirilenko helps with preparations of articles to be published and talks to all our Smashing TV speakers to arrange the formalities, so they can connect with our wonderful community.

Next, we have Inge Emmler who keeps us all on track with our expense receipts, and requests to spend money! In addition, she helps out our community when they get in touch. If your book order didn’t show up, then Inge is probably the person who will help you. She loves to be able to make our customers happy and remembers an anecdote from her time at Smashing where she sent a free e-book to one person, brightening their day despite the fact they had just lost their job.

When not helping our the Smashing community and chasing us for our expenses, Inge loves to do things with her hands, be that refurbishing her house, gardening, cooking, and more recently taking photographs of flowers.

Jan Constantin has been part of the team since 2012, between then and now has fulfilled a number of roles — office manager, event manager, junior editor, and fullfillment manager! The nature of a small team is that we all sometimes end up doing something quite different than we originally imagined. Jan enjoys rock climbing, tabletop games and Sci-fi/Fantasy. He confesses that despite working for Smashing all these years he still doesn’t know more than basic HTML.

Ricardo Gimenes is the creator of the Smashing mascot, and therefore is the person we all go to with requests for illustrations of cats involved in a variety of non-catlike activities. Ricardo told he is:

“A half-Brazilian half-Spanish designer who loves graphic and motion. I’ve been a kind of "gypsy" for the past 20 years since I’ve lived in 6 different countries working as a designer (Brazil, Italy, Germany, England, Japan, and now Sweden). I love board games — I have more than 80 games (and counting) in my collection. Every week, we have a board game/beer night with friends here at my home. I’m a big fan of football (and weekend player). I love to play guitar, blues, and rock and roll.”

Ricardo has been with Smashing since 2009, however, he didn’t meet Vitaly or the rest of the team in person for five years as he was based in Brazil. You can see his work all over the magazine and also at our conferences, as he designs each of the conferences to match the location and theme of the event.

Among many other things, Ricardo illustrated these posters for our Toronto Conference. (Photo credit Marc Thiele)

I was lucky enough to speak at the very first SmashingConf in Freiburg in 2012. Marc Thiele brought his expertise and knowledge of conference organization to that event. It was a great success and the SmashingConf series has gone from strength to strength, with events happening in Europe, America, and Canada. Marc is still involved with Smashing, offering advice and experience as a friend of the team and also serves on the Smashing Board, helping to shape the direction of the company. He also takes photos at many of our conferences — such as the one above. Marc told me that,

“Working on the Events team, it’s exciting to bring Smashing Conference to all those different places and many people. Creating the Smashing Conference in old town halls, in beautiful theatre and music venues, this is exciting and wonderful to see the outcome and the effect it has on many people attending the event.”

The conference team has grown since those early days. Amanda Annandale joined the team three years ago, and now produces our New York event and has also produced events in London and Toronto. Originally from a theater background, Amanda was a professional stage manager in the USA for ten years.

Producing SmashingConf NY has created a strange turn of events in Amanda’s life,

“For 10 years I was a professional stage manager in New York City, working on musicals, new performance pieces, dance, you name it. One place I worked in was the New World Stages. It was working an event at this venue that I met my husband! Now — nearly 8 years later, I’m back working at the same venue, but this time on the other side when we hold our SmashingConf NY event every year!”

Amanda has the help of Charis Rooda, also an experienced conference organizer outside of Smashing, who runs WebConf.asia and was involved running conferences in The Netherlands before moving to Hong Kong. Charis makes sure that our speakers know where they are supposed to be and when, and also takes care of much of the social media and website content around the conferences. When not working, Charis loves doing art puzzles, and tells me that,

“With 1000 pieces you think you’re never going to finish it, but when you start and keep on going, you will make it. Pretty much like running a conference!”

When asked what surprising thing she had learned while working at Smashing Charis told me,

“I learned how to use em dashes — the punctuation mark which can be used instead of a comma, not to be mistaken for the en dash or hyphen — and my life will never be the same.”

Mariona Cíller was part of the conference team but this year her role is transitioning to more broadly lead the Partnerships and Data side of the business. She has been part of the team since 2015 at SmashingConf Barcelona.

Mariona is a former web designer and developer, and describes herself as, “in love with science and technology, the open web, open-source hardware, and software”. She lives in a laboratory at her grandfather’s 1920’s embroideries factory which she remodeled over the past 5 years. Today, it is a digital fabrication laboratory (FabLab) connected to 1700+ labs from all over the world via the Fab Lab Network and the Center for Bits & Atoms at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), where she graduated from the Fab Academy in 2015.

Mariona is currently studying for a Ph.D. in computer science and human-computer interaction at the Open University of Catalonia (UOC). Her research focuses on digital social inclusion programs for the neighborhood youth and community in Barcelona. She manages to find time to be a Mozillian and volunteer her time as a wrangler for MozFest2019!

I’ve learned a lot about many of the Smashing team while researching this piece, however, someone very familiar to me is Bethany Andrew — as she’s my daughter! Bethany has been doing some work for Smashing for a little over a year, first brought in to do some video editing work on the conference video. She still edits many of our videos and has also run a Smashing TV session. A trained dancer and singer, Bethany is part of a gospel choir in London, a true crime nerd, and a lover of Indian food. She said about her time at Smashing,

“It’s so lovely to now be working with everyone at Smashing. So many people have known me since I was a kid through my mum, or she’s always spoken about them. It’s nice now I’m all grown up (or trying to be) that I get to work with this lovely lot and develop my own friendships with them.”

The newest member of our team is Esther Fernández, who has joined Mariona to work on Partnerships and Data, and will be meeting the team for the first time in Freiburg at SmashingConf. I asked Esther to tell me something about her life outside of Smashing, and she said,

“I’m a very curious person. I love the sensation of having learned something new by the end of the day. I get part of that knowledge through books — I’m an eager reader — but also through films and any kind of artistic expression. I have a self-taught knowledge in psychology and I really enjoy hiking, riding my bike, and having conversations with other inquisitive people.”

Then, there is me. Editor in Chief since October 2017, however, I felt part of Smashing long before that. My first Smashing article was published in June 2010 and I was part of the review panel for several years. In addition, I have had chapters in a number of Smashing books, and have spoken and run workshops at SmashingConf since the beginning. Smashing has been part of my own journey as a web developer, speaker, writer, and editor. I love to work with people who are committed to doing the best they can do, dedicated to the web platform and the community who work on it, which is why I’m very proud to be part of this team.

I hope that you, now feel you know us a little better. I certainly found out a lot about my colleagues while writing this. I love how much everyone feels a part of Smashing, whether they work a few hours a month or full time. And, the reason we do this at all? That should be left to Vitaly, who describes best how all of us feel about working on the magazine, conferences and all the other things we do.

“One incredible thing that keeps happening to me all the time is that people come to me and tell stories of how Smashing changed their lives many years ago. Maybe it’s just one article that really nailed it and helped a developer meet the deadline, and sometimes it’s those certain encounters at a conference that simply change your life. I vividly remember stories of people whom I’ve met at conferences when they were students, and who now have companies with dozens of employees. These stories change everything — we don’t hear them most of the time, sitting everywhere in the world and just writing, publishing and curating events, but there is always impact of our work at people around us. And that’s something we shouldn’t take lightly.”

(ra, vf, il)

[aurelliocheek]

A Year of Rain: Writing Strategies

How to build a new world for an RTS Game.

So, you wanna write this? A question I’ve been waiting for. When Nick, the captain of our daring endeavor, approached me, A Year Of Rain was supposed to become a Fantasy RTS based on a well-known IP; and to be honest, I was more than fine with that. See, I like that IP, I am very familiar with it and just from a cerebral logistics standpoint, I’ve always been comfortable settling in an established system and give it my own spin. All I’d have to do was looking for one of the more ­obscure places and events of that world, work with that foundation, and tell an interesting tale.

Which I did. Vigorously.

Then we had to discard that approach. The world for our game would not be an established one. We needed to build it from scratch, every nook and cranny. And here’s how we did that, or rather, my first-time experiences with RTS narrative design and maybe some survival tips on how to navigate that minefield.

Super rough worldbuilding draft.

A new IP. Well… We took that turn of events in stride. After all, even if existing worldbuilding provides you with nomenclature, systems, a fan base and many more convenient tools in your box, it’s all double-edged: you can’t slip on lore, the systems restrain you, while gameplay and game design boundaries are sneaking up from behind. You also owe the fans maximum accuracy anyway to avoid alienation. Put like this, building your own world from scratch sounds a lot more appealing, doesn’t it? It’s a gorgeous blooming field of nearly endless possibilities and free of any veto you wouldn’t give yourself.

Right…?

The whole world in your hands I’ve done this for plenty tabletops and homebrew Pen & Paper systems. It’s important to have an interesting world for an interesting tale you want to tell. Doing this for a very specifically tagged game is a different beast altogether. To keep the field analogy going, when first thinking about a world for a Fantasy RTS game, I felt like I arrived a week after the harvest.

Staring into the abyss of fantasy intertextuality made me uncomfortable right from the start, when I was asking myself: ‘What kind of world is this going to be?’

Creating a new, compelling world for an RTS game is a challenge.

Standard globe, massive Midlandia continent where all the people hang out and fight each other or whatever? It’s been done – ad nauseam and to death.

A shattered world, with drifting pieces and… Shit, this has been done. Pocket dimension? Done. Flat, you could say, a disc-like world? Yeah, good luck.

Okay, but what if it has layers like an onion… Septerra Core? Who even remembers that?! I do, it was a very charming game, actually. Anyway, a world needs people. People are easy! Species, races, cultures, there are so many cool fantasy folks… which… have all been utilized to exhaustion.

Even as I am writing this, a game cropped up that is so eerily similar to the core ideas I eventually developed for my world and story that it snaps the credibility of parallel evolution and makes me reconsider my general stance on psychic spies. I came to terms with the notion long before that announcement, but it confirmed my take on worldbuilding I had to adapt if I wanted to keep my sanity: There are many, many worlds out there and chances are high you won’t reinvent the wheel. Take solace in the fact that you can craft a very efficient, aesthetically pleasing wheel!

For here comes the twist: Intertextuality is a good thing. Since I’m throwing that word around like I think I know what it means, here’s what it is… “The relationship between texts, especially literary ones.”

It’s the reason why references work. For example, why Pride & Prejudice & Zombies exists, and you still get what that title implies. It’s why Banner Saga doesn’t need to explain the language, cultural setting, or apparel of the world they created because we have read about or seen media featuring Vikings. Darkest Dungeon draws a lot of its appeal from weird fiction, gothic and cosmic horror and you understand that connection. It’s why many people love it when fictional characters or worlds reference the real world, or pop culture or even quote from other ­movies and works of literature. ­Because we get what that means. Because it’s a nod to what we, and probably the creator of that fiction, love (the latter being strictly speaking an allusion, but it fits under the same umbrella, bear with me here). In broad strokes, it means that people understand connections and baselines without your explanation, because someone, at some point, did a very similar thing and established a widely known convention with it.

Yes, we’ve made a papercraft map.

It seems like the bane of innovation You may feel like everything has been done already, or even get conflicted because a line you wrote is similar or identical to something that already exists. However, just like tropes, archetypes, and cliché, it’s a boon for your world’s foundation if you swing it with precision. Best case, whatever you decide: On a very basic level, your audience will have a fond connotation to many of the things you do. There’s a catch, of course. You’ll need a lot of lipstick for your intertextual pig. The real work for me started after laying the foundation when I decided what type of world I wanted and who populated it. Both choices, at a glance, weren’t too special, admittedly.

What I hoped made them special was thoroughly fleshing out every race, species, and culture, applying some twists here and there… I tried generating credible systems and all the bones and beams that not only support the worldbuilding but also telegraph and highlight what made this world compelling, comfortably familiar, yet also refreshing.

You can do a lot if you stick to some fantasy guns and bolster them with nuances. In A Year Of Rain, for example, dwarves are the most competent spellcasters and considering how this world is designed, it even makes sense, though it’s not something you see very often. And it escalated pretty easily from there: What are the consequences for other species? What is their strategy? And how would that other adjacent fantasy race act or evolve and so on? I did that for, I think, 16 species concepts and there was a point when there were more connections and ideas than I actually wanted.

After fleshing out all the cultural dynamics, historical angles, rules of magic, justifying dwarven rune-powered railguns, establishing how many terabytes of memories a sentient fungus could store compared to divine lichen and what kind of weed lizardfolk prefer to smoke, I was finally ready to apply all this to the game itself.

Or not.

Strategic Writing Turns out, an RTS has comparatively limited narrative space. I would go as far as to call it claustrophobic. Design and format of an RTS tend to isolate the parts of the world you build. You have one single map at a time to establish whatever you want to transport narratively. And you only get one shot, because there usually is, by design, no backtracking.

It’s fair to assume that’s one reason why this genre often struggles with thorough worldbuilding and story in its campaign and multiplayer. Everything you can show, tell and narrate has to fit in roughly 15-30 minutes of tiny people murdering each other in real time. Then, you move on to the next area where, you guessed it, you train tiny people and have them murder each other for 15-30 minutes.

There is little room to breathe, or significantly manipulate the game flow, or show the inhabitants of your world doing anything other than fighting and killing to do more fighting and killing. That’s where the majority of anything you’ll write will be focused on. The units you command have no narrative agenda, almost no space to reflect on what they’re doing or want to do; they fight and die and obey the great cursor.

“But Blizzard!” you say?

Campaign is a different horse. It’s easier there. You can, to a certain degree, pace what happens, insert cutscenes and design a fantasy, a goal, and establish what drives this narrative… And at least your characters get to talk and express opinions, motivation, broader personality and all that, so: Yes, Blizzard cracked the code in most of their campaigns and will probably remain on that throne till the flippin’ sun burns out. But looking at virtually all other RTS games, there’s a trend to keep the world simple, the greater worldbuilding or story potential unexplored (Warlords RTS, Grey Goo) or exaggerate other aspects enough that they tilt from ludicrous to awesome and thus make for a satisfying campy story (looking at you, Command & Conquer). There’s a reason why even master craftsmen like the folks at Blizzard preach the mantra: Gameplay first in RTS.

All that doesn’t mean you can’t tell a compelling story, it doesn’t mean you can’t build a fantastic world, but it means that it may feel awkward at first. It’s a much greater challenge than in an RPG, an adventure or something similar where you can weave both things easier into a nice colorful ­tapestry. For our game, there is no after-mission hub to talk to characters, no codex to look up things like history and lore, no audio logs, books or scrolls, no close-up first- or third-person perspective to do advanced intrinsic storytelling. RTS has a fast, relentless pace. Your opponent, be it a human or AI, won’t wait for you to absorb subjects declared second priority like a narrative or worldbuilding details. So, whatever you tell is ideally right there when you play.

Some rules and tools you know still apply accordingly. For example, each of our units has 17 standard response lines. You better believe I tried to cram as much character as I could in there, tried my best to give them personality you can relate to in a few clicks and with allusions to the world around them.

Daedalic’s development team is building the A Year Of Rain world.

Then there are our phenomenal art, design, sound and SFX people Worldbuilding is, of course, not only writing. How characters look, what gear they carry, how their magic or tools of trade manifest and interact, their body language, animation, and voice work… all that blasts open a welcome breach into the walls you run into with an RTS, just like with any other game. Though the world is delivered in chunks in this genre, you can still do plenty of environmental storytelling, be it through biomes, architecture, weather, or ambient sounds and how the whole palette interconnects through the game. The tools are there; they just need lots of attention. The more you have prepared, the better. Whatever you came up with, whatever your vision is, don’t use a crowbar. Listen to the other departments and let them work their magic, even, or especially when that means letting go of your brainchild because they came up with a cooler solution. I’m a writer. What the hell do I know about shapes and the right visual impact, or the finer points of ability synergies and level design? Try to trust people as they trust you.

This is a good time to point out that 50% of all my conceptual resources won’t make it directly into the game. Some things are just too intricate/niche and have no business being there considering the very tight space that’s rightfully conceded to the gameplay. Adjust that percentage further north, actually, since some visual ideas don’t make good silhouettes for in-game models, because they’d be too small, too noisy or just a pain to animate you could never justify. It’s fine, though. Compare it to an actor who’s told to come up with a backstory for a bunch of tiny props on their costume. They’ll never get any big reference in the movie, but they help the actor getting into the role.

As I’ve mentioned, the characters’ role is basically to fight and die, above all else. It creates a dissonance, intuitively. Telling war stories is no hard sell, but it adds a new layer to the worldbuilding itself. Is this a new conflict? Where will you locate it? Is it a flashpoint or a global affair, and how much sense does that make? How do you plan for the future, i.e., at the end of your campaign, is your world fixed or broken, and where does it go from there? Or is it even beyond fixing and stays in a constant, vicious cycle of warfare?

The one luxury I had here was that I got to have my cake and eat it too: I made a world that’s broken, and I elected to focus on one conflict on a very specific piece of land. It leaves enough breathing room to tease a much bigger playground around the elaborate nice sandbox we’ll ship with this game.

Narrative Design for an RTS is a wild ride. And despite the pinch of salt in the lines above I definitely enjoy the chance I’ve been given with this. This article is honestly a slapdash work of professional opinion, advise, and direct dirty development experience. It’s a rough field guide for those treading these grounds for the first time, informative entertainment, or a good foundation for discussion.

See you in that world we’ve built, if you’re so inclined!

Ben Kuhn

Ben Kuhn is a writer and narrative designer at Daedalic Entertainment. Seven years sailing for Daedalic, mostly as a translator, dialogue writer, and voice director, packing a Master of Arts in English literature and creative writing acquired at the University of Bremen and Maynooth. Signed up due to his love of the medium and good stories and continues to be happy about that choice.

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