esamastation

[esamastation]

If you could choose a world to be isekaied into, you probably wouldn't choose the videogame Age of Tales.

It's a painfully generic mediaeval RPG with a very generic "farm boy becomes a hero" storyline. Or farmgirl, if you go that route. There's some moral choices, but overall the story is very linear from start to finish, and no matter how evil you try to play it, the game inevitably ends with the chosen farmboy (or girl) saving the world. Age of Tales has a very generic cast of characters with very generic backstories, even more generic villains with very basic evil plots, and side quests right out of early free to play mmorpgs. Overall the game is just very… mid.

Upon release the game was a massive flop.

And Katie has happily sunk nearly six hundred hours into it.

[esamastation]

Gamer girl gets transmigrated into a farm boy Chapter 1 [<<Prologue - Chapter 2>>]

-

Katie wakes up with a face full of hay, which is so far from any experience she's ever known that it takes a moment for her to even categorise the sensation as what it is. Prickly pieces of straw stick against her neck and cheeks, and there's something crawling in her hair that makes her sit up with a shriek, flailing frantically to get it off.

It's an ant, she finds out, as it crawls over her fingers and she flings it into the hay with a shudder and a "Eurgh!" that sounds… a bit off.

Everything about this is a bit off.

There's a ceiling of rough wood above her head, with thick wooden beams crossing from left to right. They've got a name, she's pretty sure - crossbeams? Probably not. She's distracted by how rough they look. Like they're handmade. Are those… are those axe marks?

There's stuff hanging from them. Farming tools.

Did… did she get drunk and get out of the city somehow and then… break into someone's barn? Or maybe she'd allowed herself to be picked up by some handsome farmer and they'd ended up fooling around in a barn. She can't quite recall…

Sitting up, Katie does a quick inspection of her surroundings, but there's no one else in the hay with her. It's just her, in her - actually…

What the hell is she wearing?

Also - what the hell has happened to her everything?!

Alarmed, Katie does a quick patdown on herself, her hands moving over the rough shirt. The chest beneath it does not feel like her own. Her breasts have been replaced by a flat expanse of muscle, and that's just the start of the changes. Now that she's looking, her hands are huge, her legs look weird in their rough woollen trousers and her feet are enormous. She's only wearing one shoe, too - well, it's more of a leather slipper, actually. But that's beside the point, because - is that -?

With a quick glance around to make sure no one is watching, Katie sticks a hand between her legs.

Yep. It is.

That's a dick.

"Oh, sweet," Katie says, brightening up. "This is a dream!" Either that or she'd just gotten isekaied into the body of a dude. A huge dude. 

Sadly, a dream is way more likely.

That cleared up, Katie looks around with new interest. She - or rather, he - seems to be in a hayloft. That's what it looks like to her, at least - and there's the piles and bales of hay there to prove it. There's also a wooden ladder not far from him, leading down from the little hay-filled attic.

Carefully Katie scoots over to the edge of the hayloft to look down. There are two carts parked on the ground below the loft - old timey, wooden, probably horse drawn wagons. And it's really the ground down there, rough brown earth, not wood or stone. There's tools on a rack, there's poles sticking out of a wall,, with saddles and girdles and all manner of leather straps hanging on them, there's buckets and barrels and boxes and, and…

Katie's heart begins to beat with excitement. It all looks very medieval. Like something out of a fantasy movie or a show! Sex change and a fantasy dream - that's like getting two for one!

Quickly ruffling his hands through his hair to clear out the hay, Katie glances around for his other slipper and finds it buried in the pile, not too far away. Quickly he pulls it on, making a face at the feel of bare and not exactly clean leather on his bare foot, before standing up.

And promptly almost hits his head on the rough-hewn ceiling beams. The loft, Katie finds, is not terribly high - he has to bow down to keep his head from scraping against the ceiling. 

Well. All the more reason to head down.

As he starts making his way down the surprisingly sturdy wooden ladder, the barn doors clatter and open. Like a deer caught in headlights, Katie freezes mid rung as a young woman steps inside the barn, already calling loudly, "Good morning!"

She's like something out of a videogame cutscene or a renaissance reenactment. She's blond and pretty, with freckles and the permanent blush of someone who doesn't tan but spends a lot of time in the sun. She's wearing a dress made of thick layers of sort of orangey-red wool with white apron, both of which go all the way down to the ground, belted at the waist with thick leather. There's at least two knives hanging off her belt, and three satchels.

She looks amazing. Also, very familiar.

"Oh, you're awake already! Good morning, Van," the woman says as Katie just gapes at her. Throwing her very long braid over her shoulder, the fantasy woman gives him a smile. "I'm working on breakfast, but Daddy wanted me to get you up and ask you to get the cart out - he's going to the town today."

"Ah - right, I'll just - uh -?" Katie manages, before everything tilts slightly sideways. 

Van, did she just call Katie Van?!

Above the woman's head, the air flickers and white text appears like a hologram out of a sci-fi movie.

[Farmer's Daughter] [Janelle Gylcross] [Lvl. 4 Commoner]

Katie gapes at the text and the woman laughs. "What, were you hoping to sneak out?" she asks, amused. "Better luck next time! Get the cart set up, okay? I'll have porridge ready by the time you're done."

"Uh," Katie says, intelligent, but Janelle is already heading out of the barn, humming as she goes, her braid swinging down to her hip. Still hanging on the ladder, Katie is left staring at the open barn doors as they slowly drift shut behind Janelle.

Katie knows that name. Janelle Gylcross. Janelle was a sympathetic NPC killed early in Age of Tales… along with just about everyone else known by the player character. Their death was a trigger for the very first moral choice in the game - the player was questioned about it and could choose to lie or tell the truth.

Well… it's not the first time Katie has dreamed about video games. And it explains the sex change - she'd just finished playing the game, too, so it makes sense it would be Van. It's not even the first time she's dreamed of being Van.

Van is kind of her favourite.

Something about this is off, though. It feels like Katie's forgetting something.

Then another flicker of white text catches Van's eye. Over a pitchfork, it tells him, [Pitchfork, Lvl. 1.]

It's like an oil stain spreading over the water's surface - or like one of those virtual reconstruction scenes from Katie's favourite cyberpunk movie. The whole barn seems to ripple, and suddenly everything is subtly different. Or maybe not different - added on.

Everything Van can see has a tag of white text floating above it. [Hoe, Lvl. 1.], and, [Saddle, Lvl. 1.], and [Wooden Barrel, Lvl. 1.], and [Bucket, Lvl. 1.] Everything is level one, except for the two carts, sitting in the middle of the barn. One of them is a [Cart, Lvl. 4.], and the other is a [Cart, Lvl. 6.]

"This is some prime isekai shit," Van says, grinning.

Testing things, he jumps off from the middle of the ladder. After all, there's no fall damage in dreams, right?

Well, there is in this one. Ow, his foot - he landed on a piece of rock, and the leather slippers aren't exactly thick-soled. Actually, they don't have any soles at all, they're more like socks, which does not seem useful as footwear goes - and that's when he sees a pair of wooden sandals, waiting for him at the bottom of the ladder. [Overshoes, Lvl. 1.] the white text informs him, and inspecting the leather slipper-things, Van finds that, yeah, it looks like they've been worn down in the pattern of the sandal straps. Okay then.

The sandals are surprisingly comfortable, as Van slips his enormous feet into them. They fit like they've been made for his foot. They also make very satisfying clip-clop noises as he walks.

Katie is starting to get the picture here. This is Van just at the start of the game. Van's grey, woollen trousers - Lvl. 1 - and the huge tunic he's wearing - also Lvl. 1 - are exact match to the game's starter gear, as is the belt hanging off the second bottom rung of the ladder. It fits him snugly, the belt loops worn at the exact perfect length to fit around his thickly muscled waist. He's got a couple of satchels and a knife hanging off the belt too, like Janelle did, though there's just the one knife.

And, just like he expected, one of the satchels has nothing but mostly round pebbles in it, the other has a long strap, thin but firmly woven cord with a little leather bit in the middle. Van's starter weapon, a Shepherd's Sling, Lvl. 1.

Exactly like in the game.

"This is so cool. I always wanted to get isekaied," Van muses and then looks around. "Okay, here's hoping I don't wake up anytime soon."

Now. What was Van's first quest…?

Promptly, a white-framed quest window pops up in front of him.

[Market Preparations, Lvl. 1.] [Janelle has asked you to prepare a cart for a trip to the town. Prepare the Reins, the Collar, the Saddlestrap and the Straps.] [Quest reward: 10 exp, 1 Bowl Of Porridge, 1 Apple.] [Accept?] [Yes.] [No.]

Looking around, Van finds the four necessary items easily enough - they're hanging off a pole in the wall near one of the carts. Approaching them eagerly, he finds another window popping up, asking him [Prepare items?]

"Yeah, sure, why not," Van answers with a grin and hits [Yes].

His body takes over for him then, moving with a weird sort of automation. Katie is not exactly out of control - she can feel Van's body moving and taking the straps and untangling their bundled up mess, but it's not Katie making the conscious decisions to move. Van's fingers work expertly, doing work Katie has no idea how to do, and then his body turns and his big feet carry him over to one of the carts, moving to belt the straps into their proper place on the wooden poles sticking out of the cart.

It's beyond trippy.

In a few minutes, the cart is ready for a horse, or an ox, or whatever it is that will pull the thing. It's… cool in a kind of detached creepy way. Van's body can just run on automation.

Boy, would've that come in handy in the warehouse job. Just, hit here to load up the pallet, and off her body went, automatically finding every ordered item. Probably would've wrapped the pallet up and filled the shipping manifest automatically and everything. Now that would've been something.

"Hey Van, Janelle said you were getting the - oh, you're done already?"

It's a guy this time, a big broad-shouldered farmboy type, with brown hair and blue eyes and everything, wearing the undyed peasant garb and wooden sandals similar to Van's. The white text even confirms it.

[Farmboy] [Josel Berndal] [Lvl. 3 Peasant.]

It's kind of funny, seeing Josel from Van's perspective. Josel was designed to be a gentle giant, obviously intended to be big and impressive - and he would've been… if Katie hadn't absolutely maxed out Van's height, making him about head's worth taller than Josel. It's not why Katie made Van so big, but it certainly added to her amusement.

"Morning," Van says, smothering the urge to ruffle Josel's hair fondly.

Josel is leading a horse, holding it by the bridle. It's a huge animal, with massive hooves covered in thick hair - a proper workhorse. "I got Bell ready," he says. "Should we strap her in?"

[Bell] [Lvl 6. Workhorse.]

"Uh -" Van says and another quest window pops up.

[Extra mission! Market Preparations Lvl. 1, Part 2.] [Janelle has asked you to prepare a cart for a trip to the town - meanwhile Josel has been getting Bell ready for the cart. Strap Bell in front of the cart.] [Quest reward: 5 exp, 3 Slingshots.] [Accept?] [Yes.] [No.]

"Sure," Van agrees and hits [Accept] on the quest window and [Yes] for the [Prepare items?] prompt. Again his body begins moving on its own, taking the huge leather collar as Josel brings the massive workhorse in, making her walk in a circle and then leading her back towards the cart. She's docile, for such a massive animal, Van muses, as his body moves to get the thick Collar around her huge neck.

Josel gives him a surprised look, watching him. "You've gotten strong," he comments and then, with a shrug, turns to work on the wide, cushioned Saddlestrap, which should apparently go over the horse's back. "I guess you're getting used to the work."

"Heh, yeah," Van answers, grinning. The height dial wasn't the only one Katie had maxed. Van is, to put it mildly, built.

Guess it translated to reality, so to speak. Dream reality.

Between Van's automatic proficiency and Josel's practised motions, they get Bell the workhorse ready and properly strapped into the cart. Josel rewards the horse with pats and pieces of a carrot he has in one of his satchels, grinning with good-natured farmboy happiness as she nudges at him hard enough to almost knock him over.

"Oh, right, here - picked these up for you yesterday while I was out by the river," Josel then says and from another satchel digs out three almost perfectly round pebbles. "They're good, right?"

[Quest Market Preparations Lvl. 1, Part 2 complete! You gain 5 exp and 3 Slingshots!]

"Yeah, thanks," Van agrees and takes the pebbles. Aside from being very beginner level, this dream is really looking up.

"Van, Josel!" a female voice comes from outside. "Breakfast is ready!"

They head outside, Josel at the casual pace of a young man well used to everything around him and Van trying hard not to stare at everything like a tourist.

It really is the Gylcross farmstead, exactly like it was in the game - which Katie had rather figured it would be. There's four buildings in a ring around a square of dirt, with farm fields peaking just past the buildings. One of them is a pretty impressive two storey farmhouse with shuttered windows and a big old porch. There's a pen full of chickens not far from them, and close to it there's a white goose, running loose and pecking at the ground. Behind the barn, Van thinks, he sees some goats in a pen.

Janelle is waving at them from a table set in front of the farmhouse, with a pot and plates and a pitcher of something. "Come eat while it's hot!"

"Yes, miss," Josel calls, humble, and Van follows him to the table.

"I told you, it's just Janelle," the farmer's daughter says. "Go on, sit."

They sit and she serves them pretty hefty helpings, handing them wooden spoons. The porridge is hot and thick, but a bit bland - like plain rice in milk, or something. Josel eats without saying anything and Van takes his example, wondering if it's always like this if you try to eat in a dream, if everything is tasteless.

Then Janelle pours them both a pint of what has to be beer - or ale? Whatever it is, it smells thick and tastes… kind of weird and not at all like Katie expects beer to taste like. It's not bad, though.

"Daddy is heading to the town to pick up some things," Janelle says as they eat and Van tries to place the taste of the not-beer. "One of you will go with him and do all the heavy lifting - do not let him do it," she says firmly. "His back is acting up again. Now, which one of you will it be?"

"Van can go," Josel says before Katie can even begin to wonder which would be better. "I went last time, it's his turn."

Yeah, and the heart eyes the farm boy is giving the farmer's daughters have absolutely nothing to do with Josel's eagerness to stay, uh-huh, yep.

Van grins and covers it with his pint. It's pretty cute - though the crush Josel had on Janelle made their inevitable deaths even sadder in the game. It was always kind of obvious what would happen to them, but still…

"Great - here," Janelle says, handing Van a perfectly red, plump [Apple]. "A snack for the road."

[Quest Market Preparations Lvl. 1 complete! You gain 10 exp, 1 Bowl Of Porridge, 1 Apple.]

This dream is pretty damn cool, Van decides and accepts the Apple with a nod as thanks.

"Finish your breakfast - Daddy will be here soon," Janelle says and turns to Josel. "Do you mind feeding the goats for me today? The big one almost knocked me over last time. Please?"

"I got it, miss," Josel agrees earnestly. "Don't you worry about it."

"Janelle," she corrects.

Josel nods very seriously. "Miss Janelle."

Janelle stomps her foot and Van chuckles into his not-beer. As he does, the door to the farmhouse opens and man steps out, patting at his chest and checking his clothes. He's dressed much fancier than they are, in a vest and dark brown slacks that look like they've been pressed - and he has actual shoes rather than sandals or leather socks. The shoes even have heels and everything.

He's also got one hell of a moustache.

[Farmer] [Jaques Gylcross] [Lvl. 8 Landowner]

"Morning, boys," the man calls, straightening the lapels of his vest. "How y'all doing this morning?'

"Good morning, Mr. Gylcross!" Josel pipes up. "We're doing just fine, thank you."

"Good, good," Mr. Gylcross nods. "Janelle, sweetheart, make sure the fire doesn't go out in the kitchen - I want the house nice and warm when I get back."

"I will, Daddy," Janelle promises. "When do you think you will be back?"

"Before sundown, with any luck," Mr. Gylcross says, casting a look up at the cloudy sky overhead. "If it starts raining, we might have to stay the night." He looks over their table. "All done with breakfast? Let's get moving then. Drakner is in town, and I want to bring some of the winter grain with us to sell, get us some spending money. There's a lot to do before harvest, a lot to do!"

A quest window pops up immediately after.

[Trip to town, Lvl 2.] [You have been asked to escort Mr. Jacques Gylcross to town for a spot of shopping. Load and drive the cart from the farmhouse.] [Quest rewards: 15 exp, 3 silver pieces.] [Accept?] [Yes.] [No.]

Josel nudges at Van and quickly he sets his pint down. "Right - right away, Mr. Gylcross," he agrees, and accepts the quest. Here's hoping driving a cart worked on automation too, else they'd end up in a ditch real quick.

-

Proofread by @nimadge, many thanks.

And so it begins.

I would like to post this somewhere other than tumblr, for archival purposes, because tumblr sucks for archival purposes. AO3 is the best for that, but, eh, it still feels weird to me, the idea of posting original fiction on ao3. Even though lot of people do it. Idk.

What do you guys think?

[esamastation]

Here's the prologue of what I'm currently writing which I'm calling

Gamer girl gets transmigrated into a farm boy

-

If you could choose a world to be isekaied into, you probably wouldn't choose the videogame Age of Tales. It's not that it's too dark or gritty or dangerous, quite the opposite. Age of Tales is boring.

It's a painfully generic mediaeval RPG with a very generic "farm boy becomes a hero" storyline. Or farmgirl, if you go that route. There's some moral choices, but overall the story is very linear from start to finish, and no matter how evil you try to play it, the game inevitably ends with the chosen farmboy (or girl) saving the world. Age of Tales has a very generic cast of characters with very generic backstories, even more generic villains with very basic evil plots, and side quests right out of early free to play mmorpgs. Overall the game is just very… mid.

It flopped within a week of being launched, deservedly so. It landed without a splash and was forgotten within the month, and its only saving grace was that at least it wasn't a live service and as such didn't have to go through the indignity of being shut down on top of being a failure. All in all, the game was a massive flop.

And Katie had sunk nearly six hundred hours into it. 

She would have explained the appeal, if she knew what it was. The weirdly cosy art design in a game where you eventually end up leading armies in hopeless battles? The character creator that let her create a beautiful two meter hundred kilo blue-eyed wall of muscle as her player character? The weird charm of 80' and 90's fantasy novels, as depicted by the game's story? The glitch that let her literally duplicate gold bars in the tutorial section? The way you can trip the big bad down a staircase if you just happen to fill the boss arena with chairs, benches and barrels?

Katie has hundred percented the game twice, found all known Easter eggs and best glitches, and she still couldn't say why she loved it so much. Why, even as Valthor the Vile generically monologues about how he would fill the world with darkness before the final boss fight, she's already planning to play the game again from the start.

Van the Valorous - as her character this time is called - met the big bad with a big sword in one hand and tall shield in the other, his build a pitch perfect Paladin this time. Katie has played through the final battle so many times that she knows all of Valthor's moves, and Van is fully leveled at 120, so the battle isn't exactly a challenge. She spends most of it admiring the battle arena and Valthor's design. He's a classic long-haired pretty boy, with a rapier and elaborate long coat with enormous shoulders. 

Valthor takes the coat off for the final phase of the battle, which Katie had always rather appreciated. She usually takes the opportunity to take Van's clothes off for the final round too, just for the aesthetic. It's not like Van needs the defence offered by clothing at that point anyway. 

"So this is what you have chosen," Valthor says on the screen. "These people, with their puny concerns and petty squabbles. You, who like me, could've been a God!"

Katie is offered a final choice of dialogue. "You are no God, Valthor - a devil, at most," Van says and points his sword at Valthor. "And your evil reign ends now!"

"Fine. Let's end it," Valthor answers, and off goes the coat in a completely unnecessary bit of theatrical dramatics. "Have at thee!"

Katie sighs fondly, a smile stretched wide on her face as she plays through the final disappointing mini game of quicktime prompts while on her screen two shirtless men slash bloodlessly at each other.

Valthor loses and falls down. "I had… such plans," he rasps, reaching towards Van. "I was going to bring peace…and prosperity…"

"And yet you brought only war and devastation," Van says and kneels beside his fallen enemy - now, mysteriously, clothed again in his armour and cape. "Your reign is over, Valthor. It's over."

"So it is," Valthor sighs and lets his head fall to the floor. "I wonder… What kind of reign will yours be… oh Valorous one…"

And so Valthor dies and the game ends with the victorious player character walking determinately towards the camera with cape billowing behind them in the most dissatisfying sequel bait ending Katie has ever seen. It's supposed to imply what happens next, how the player character, now a General and Saviour, would probably go on to take charge of the land left behind by Valthor or whatever. 

Of course, the game never got a sequel, but there's something endearing about how hopeful they were, making an ending like that. The developers really thought they did something there.

"Ten out of ten, premium trash," Katie sighs with pleasure. "Would not recommend to anyone - except me."

She skips through the final credits and back to the starting screen, intending to start a new game. Maybe this time she'd make Van look older - a huge grizzled old man playing the part of an innocent farm boy should be hilarious.

She stops before hitting [New Game], because the starting screen has changed. There's a new option there, one she's never seen before. 

[New Game∞]

"What? I didn't know there was a New Game+," Katie mutters, confused. "Where was this the other times I finished the game, huh?" And why'd they use the infinity sign? Another of Age of Tales' weirdnesses?

Not sure if it would actually be any fun to play the game with a New Game+ but curious about what would actually transfer over with the save, Katie selects the [New Game∞]...

And is promptly sucked into her TV.

-

[Chapter 1>>]

-

Since some people were expressing interest, lmao. Still on a litrpg kick, pretty much everything I've tried to write lately has been litrpg. This one I'm more hopeful than the rest though. It has actual characters and stuff. Edit: replaced with version proofread by @nimadge, many thanks.

[esamastation]

Starts an original story. Starts another original story. Starts another original story. Starts another original story. Starts another original story. Starts another original story. Starts another

[esamastation]

Very cute :)

My favorite scene from High Risk Occupation

[esamastation]

Here's another original LITRPG thing I wrote a while back, which I just realised I never posted anywhere.

In which a guy named John has just died and is about to be Isekaied into a new world.

-

Upon his death, John remembers everything - and promptly fist pumps the universe. "Oh, hell yeah!"

Before him floats the Tutorial. "Welcome back, Ser Afathion - or do you prefer Mr. John Castle?"

"Just call me John, please," John says, grinning from ear to ear. "Man, that was a good life! How did I do, how are my points? Bet I got a whole bunch from that war! And the relationships - that love triangle must've netted me a fortune!"

"You did very well indeed, John," the Tutorial says and produces a logbook - a glowing rectangle of text that hangs in the air between them. "Your life as John Castle was evaluated at 4.7 million System Credits. Congratulations."

"Awww yes!" John pumps his fist again. "Damn, but Earth is good for points!"

"Indeed. Would you like to take a look at your balance sheet?"

"Yes please!"

Another glowing window of text appears, detailing the arcs of John Castle's life and their worth. By themselves the events of his life weren't worth much, but the various roles he'd played stacked up to a decent enough point total. He'd played minor roles in three big war narratives that had had a decent following, and though he wasn't the main character in the love triangle, his ex ended up as a popular drama lead with a big following. And apparently he'd played the part of an enemy for three different people!

Though it's a bit disappointing that his life hadn't gotten him the Protagonist title, John's fine having played the side and background characters in the lives of more interesting people. His life was nice, if a bit short, and he could've done much worse than 4.7 million credits.

The Tutorial shoots a party popper over him, and John beams happily. "Did I get any sponsors?"

"No, but you received these offers," the Tutorial says, and a number of logos appear in the air, arrayed in a grid. Some of them offer discounts, others promise unique opportunities and a couple proclaim to be spiritually the healthy option.

John dismisses those ones off hand and points at the one that caught his eye first. "The Adventure Guild? Aren't they fully booked for, like, centuries?"

"There was a war on the server," the Tutorial explains. "Over a million characters died, and they're looking to repopulate."

"Huh. And their character packages?"

The Tutorial shows him the standard packages for the Adventure Guild's server. They start from low level mob and peasant packages that cost a few hundred thousand - and have the expected lifespan of a couple decades at most - to a high elf noble package that costs billions of credits and might last for a couple of millennia. The best John could afford in the Adventure Guild's Server is a merchant family with 10 extra stats points to start with - stat points?

"Stat points?" John asks.

"The Adventure Guild server is System Enabled," the Tutorial explains. "These are all transmigration packages."

"Get outta here! Transmigration package, me? In an Adventure Guild server?" John sputters, and then narrows his eyes. "Those things cost a fortune! What's the catch?"

"It's part of a new World Narrative the Adventure Guild is starting," the Tutorial explains. "They're looking specifically for players that have just come from Earth - your last life will be the one you'll be transmigrating from."

"Wow," John murmurs, wondering what kind of story the Adventure Guild might be building up. They're pretty known for their big narratives, and they're super popular as galactic entertainment goes - there's a reason why even cheap roles in their server are always fully booked. Even playing the part of collateral damage in a random bar fight on Adventure Guild server could net you pretty decent royalties. Never mind being hella fun.

If they've opened the server to someone like him, that means the place probably has a lot of new players. And that usually means there's a big thing coming, a war or apocalypse or something, and they needed a lot of fresh cannon fodder. And a bunch of Earth transmigrations in a post war Adventure Guild server?

"I am so in," John breathes excitedly. "What kind of customisation options do I have?"

"These are the species available," the Tutorial says and pops open a whole array of character customisation windows. "From the most affordable to the less so."

"And stat points?"

"Each race starts with a set amount specific for the race. Extra points cost a hundred thousand System credits per point."

So, basically, John could be a goblin with a lifespan of twenty years and start with 44 extra points to allocate as he chose, or he could become a dwarf orphan with an estimated lifespan of three hundred years, but he'd be starting without any extra stat points. The human merchant family with extra 10 points is pretty good value for his money, honestly, seeing as humans already start with 10, but… it sounded pretty boring.

Running a hand over his chin John tried to think of how to make most of this opportunity. "What's the cost of ambitions in the server? How about natural talents?"

A lot, it turns out. Good ambitions cost millions, as did talents. Dang, but Adventure Guild is expensive.

"You start with all of John Castle's knowledge," the Tutorial reminds him. "And his ambitions."

Sure, but John Castle's biggest ambition in the end was owning a nice car and not dying of cancer - and he'd failed in both, pretty much. He can't even remember if he had any life goals when he'd been a young man. Probably not, seeing as he hadn't really amounted to much. It's why he hadn't gained more points during his life - he'd gone into that life without any interesting traits, and it showed. He'd lived and died pretty quietly.

It would be nice to live a little more interesting life this time.

"Let's try random generation," John says. "Maybe I'll get some ideas."

Obligingly the Tutorial opens an empty character creation screen, and John inserts the number of credits he wants to use, 3 million. That way he'd have 1.7 million to spend on stat points and other things.

The first he gets is an awakened dog with high stamina and potential as a special mount. The second is an orc from an exiled clan - classic minor enemy encounter fodder. The third is a bird familiar with fire abilities - which is honestly a little tempting, though he wouldn't be able to speak, except to his master.

"Rule out non-humanoid creatures," John decides and folds his arms. "I want to be able to speak and, you know, have hands."

"Limiting selection to creatures when hands and the ability to speak "

The selection is limited indeed. Peasant human born to farmers, ghoul foot soldier, peasant human born to a tavern wench, skeleton serving a necromancer, orphan peasant human, sickly elf with a lifespan of five years, peasant human born to a smith…

"Perhaps we could narrow the search criteria," the Tutorial suggests. "What kind of life are you interested in living?"

"Something loud and bombastic," John says and thinks about it. "Since it's basically a fantasy world, I want to fight a bunch. Like, properly fight, not just be caught in the crossfire as a poor hapless victim - I wanna be the person running headlong into trouble because it's fun, you know? Like, you know, a good old style fantasy adventure protagonist."

The Tutorial considers it for a moment and then says.  "You do not have enough credits for the protagonist tag. However I have sent a query to the Adventure Guild, and they have a suggestion. Would you like to take on a curse?"

John perks up interestedly. "What kind of curse? Would it cost me points, or would it award me points?"

In answer the Tutorial opens up a status window - with a whole dropdown menu of available options. And it turns out that while most curses had a cost, there were some curses that would give John extra System credits to use. Sadly he could only choose one, but even so…

The curse that would give him the most was called the Puppet Curse, which would give a viewer - or a Server Admin - the ability to puppeteer him for a while if they paid him for it. It was worth a million just by itself - with the potential of being paid more as the curse was being used.

"Dayyym," John murmurs. "That's interesting."

It kinda seems like a quick way to get himself killed, though - he can just imagine some bored rich viewer using him to instigate a war just for fun, and then he'd be hanging by the neck in the nearest tree. No thank you!

The next most profitable curse was the Mouthpiece which was kind of the same as Puppet Curse, but it basically would make him say things the viewers - or admin - wanted him to say. Very useful for instigating drama! Also a good way to get himself killed.

The curses that cost him rather than awarding him points are a bit better. Designed to make things more interesting, they range from the Werewolf Curse - 1.5 million - to Curse of Sleepwalking - 400 thousand. There's a whole lot of different ones, some more interesting than others, and the one that catches his eye is the Bad Luck Curse. At 750 thousand credits it's not cheap but it looks like it would definitely make things interesting for him.

… or get him killed.

Ugh. It's this kind of hemming and hawing that made his previous life kinda boring!

"You know what, to hell with it," John says, turning to the Tutorial. "Can I send a question to the Server Admins? I want to know if there's a way to limit the Puppet Curse to Admin use only - it seems like the most interesting one, but I don't like the idea of a random viewer using it and getting me killed for kicks."

"I will send the query," the Tutorial says. There's a moment of silence, during which John idly hits the randomiser on the character customisation screen, trying to settle on a character. Human, human, orc, human, goblin, human, human, human, skeleton, human, human, human… Well, as a human he could start with as many as 27 stat points, assuming he spent 1.7 million on extra points, which definitely isn't bad, but… it's so boring.

Why does everything more interesting have to be so expensive?

Then the Tutorial opens a contract screen.

[Puppet's Very Specific Curse] [Contract]

[The undersigned hereby accepts the Puppet's Very Specific Curse for their character for the duration of their stay in the Adventure Guild's server. The victim of this curse can be at any moment subjected to System control, and can be piloted by any employee of the Adventure Guild, to do with as they wish. The undersigned hereby acknowledges that Adventure Guild is in no way responsible for any spiritual, emotional or mental damages caused by this curse.]

[Time limit: ?] [Mana cost: ?] [Cure: ?] [Reward: 1 000 000 store credits now and 1 stat points per activation]

John reads through the screen once, twice, three times, and then looks at the Tutorial. "Store credits only - and no credits per activation?"

"Without viewer participation, the Guild isn't expecting any returns, so, no," the Tutorial agreed. "And you must remember, the Server Admins already have their own characters and do not need an agent on the server. You might come in handy, but you're not necessary."

"Fair enough," John muses, shrugs his shoulders and then accepts the contract. One stat point per activation is way too good to pass by, even if it's not as good as a flat fee of System credits would've been. "Alright, 5.7 million credits to use! Ka-ching! Here's hoping I won't regret this."

"You won't - you will have no knowledge of it," the Tutorial says ominously. "You won't remember any of this, only your life as John Castle."

"Sounds like I'm in for some interesting times, then," John says, grinning. It's about time, too. "Now, any chance of talking down the price on the Bad Luck Curse? No? Alright, let's try the randomiser again, shall we?"

-

If you guys remember that series poll I did a while back, making a generic fantasy character who then turned into a fox beast person Bard, lol. I wrote 6 chapters of this, and then it sort of petered off - but I still like it.

... I didn't even give the poor story a name, it's just called "LITRPG" in my files, haha

[esamastation]

Hello, here follows a bit of original LITRPG writing in the form of a forum post. I have no idea how to explain or what to title it. It is a thing.

In which the origin of System is pondered upon.

-

Theories of Apocalypse forum

The System - is it human made? by the Witchess of Londonium, 1st of June, 20xx

Guys, I figured it out, I connected the dots. 

The System wasn't created by the IFAR. 

I know, I know, there's like a billion theories about this, and of course everyone knows what the Elves say. The System is a Gift to all of humanity. Sure. And then there's that crackpot Mayfeather's theory about it being inheritance from ancient aliens that bred with humans thousands of years ago. Personally I think that's just because he wants a harem of furries, but each to their own. And then there's the stuff about american military experiments that went rogue, but that seems a bit too much of a coinkydink for me, what with the apocalypse happening at the same time.

Though, now that I think about it, a weird human program would go rogue during the apocalypse, wouldn't it. And I actually kinda do think that's close to what happened - though not that it was secret military drugs or nano machines or whatever.

I think it's something bigger - something we all knew and loved, in the old world. Something… ever present, that was part of all our lives. Something utterly beyond IFAR's comprehension.

I mean, think about it. This thing is huge, in like, cosmic, evolutionary, technological revolution sense, huge! This thing is like the dawn of information technology but times a hundred, with, I don't know, genetic engineering and all of weight loss and bodybuilding industry thrown in the mix. This is the "next step in human development" level of stuff!

And weight loss and bodybuilding industries of old wish they had what we have now. We can literally level up now, and with each level we get stronger. And that's just on the base level. We can change our species now! I've seen people transform themselves completely with the System. One chick, she's a dragon now, just through the System. This guy I know, super into calisthenics, yeah, he can bench press cars now, through the System. I've seen people with wings, tails, horns, with multiple arms - and there's rumours about this one old lady, she can just transform herself into other things. And all we need to do to make all that possible… is level up and get some exp.

… which, okay, it isn't that easy to get exp, you really gotta work for it, and sometimes it's so damn hard to get ahead you just wanna cry, but still. 

Why would they ever give this thing to us? 

Here's the thing. I don't think they did.

Just think about it - why would they give this thing to us? It makes us stronger, it powers us up - it gives us magic. And okay, yes, it also, consequently, spreads magic around, which helps them, making things more magical and more chaotic and dangerous - but seriously! Why would they want to empower us? They're here to subjugate us! How does giving us all this power and opportunity benefit them in any way? 

It doesn't, it just doesn't - just look at the Dragon Battle of Paris. You can bet your probably by now feathery butt that those guys who ate it in the Boulogne-Billancourt wish we didn't have the System.

So here's what I think happened. I think it was a complete freak accident. 

When the Veil was breached and the Aurora Magicalis happened, those particles changed everything they came in contact with, right? We got magical people and creatures and trees and houses and lakes and, I don't know, magical damn water towers now. And those were like intrinsically linked changes too - the thing with the metro proves it! One thing changes by magic and everything that's a copy or similar enough of the original changes too.

And that's why we have giant centipede trains all over the world now.

Which is still terrifying.

So, what happened to the internet when magic particles hit it? What happened to all that knowledge just interlinked all throughout the world? People think it vanished with everything else electronic - but we know you can't vanish things by magic. You can only move things… or change them.

I think the internet got whammied, guys, the same as the rest of us - and like everything else that got whammied, it gained a life of its own. But the internet isn't like a train or, I don't know, a taxi cab that's suddenly alive, it doesn't really have a specific territory where it exists. It's everywhere in the world and it's got no one specific spot where it starts from and we just accessed it with our phones and computers and whatever. 

(Yes I know the internet has physical forms on servers and data centers or whatever, shut up, I'm thinking magically here.)

So, the internet gets magically whammied. Where does it go? It goes where it's always gone - to us. It was made by humans, for humans, for sharing of human discovered and developed and intended information. So it just… attached itself to us. And it's still doing the same thing it's always done - sharing information.

And why is it running out of lives like a videogame now? Well, have you ever wondered how much of the internet bandwidth in total was taken by online videogames? Okay, it probably wasn't that much - but it was still kinda significant amount! Or who knows, maybe the first bit of the internet that got whammied was someone's Steam account, who knows.

Either way, I blame the evils of online videogames, as many concerned aunties have before me. Heh.

Or maybe I'm talking out of my ass and it's all a plot by the Elves to Stockholm Syndrome all of humanity - but isn't it a bit weird, how none of them have this thing? Isn't it a bit of a hell of an inconvenience to them, that we do? Did no one else notice in the early days how shocked they all were to see some of us flinging magic right back at them?

And isn't it a little bit more comforting to think that this Awesome thing that now unites us all wasn't made by our enemies - but that we ourselves made it?

Because, guys, I definitely don't think they were expecting it. When I ran into goblins the first time, they totally thought they could just roll right over us. Orcs too. And the Elves, man… I'm definitely not the only one with a bad first impression. I don't know what they were expecting me to go, bend over, lick their boots, beg for my life, maybe. They were definitely not expecting a fireball to the face, lemme tell you.

Between you and me, I don't think they would've given me, or anyone, that skill if they had a choice in the matter. 

Also it just makes sense though, right? I mean, it's not like Elves even know what videogames are. They don't have computers, they never developed, like… Dungeons and Dragons or anything like that. I bet some human had to explain to them what levels and upgrades even are - because that's, that's really weird and really niche human knowledge, in the grand scheme of things, right? It hasn't been a thing for more than maybe a hundred years.

I don't actually know how long the concept of a "Character levelling up and getting more powerful" has been a thing - feel free to let me know because I am kind of obsessed with this and I suddenly need to know.

Anyway, The System. It's definitely been to the benefit of all of us using it in this bullshit apocalypse, right? And the IFAR… Yeah, I don't think it's been to their advantage at all.

Also, like, come the feck on. When you really think about it, the info the System gives us… isn't it kind of familiar? Boil it all down and what we have are chats and forums and wikis at our fingertips! What kind of invading force gives the people they're invading a communication tool like this? Like, sure, it took a while to get here and it takes effort to use it, it has a cost - but so did the internet.

This is nothing new to us, human peoples of the Earth. Such as it is, right now… invaded and transformed and on the brink of being conquered by damn fantasy Elves… 

So, that's my pitch. The System is the sentiment and magical new form of the World Wide Web, with an online RPG twist.

What have you been doing with it?

336 credits, 759 replies, 163 awards.

-

Tadaah, the thing. Relating vaguely to this Isekai based DND campaign idea I had, which was originally an original story which I wanted to write, which I think is this?

Also IFAR is short for "Invaders from another reality", lol.

Anyway. The thought won't leave me alone but I have no idea what to do with this. Maybe I could do prompts based on this? Idk. Some sort of RP thing??

[esamastation]

I just having finished reading your Reeve fanfic, and thank you again for at least making it.

So... your fic kinda kick started me into reading Reeve-centric fanfic and one thing lead lead to another and now I have new fondness for Vincent/Reeve because apparently despite it being rare pair the ship actually the no. 1 ship in Reeve tag.

Anyway, I wanna know what's your thoughts of Vincent and Reeve ? Either as ship or friend

Haven't read any so I don't really have an opinion. It's a thing rather exists somewhere out of sight.

[esamastation]

I reject FF7 Complications height measurements and substitute it my own. Ahem.

Cloud Strife is no taller than 160 cm.

Thank you

[esamastation]

Gale Sterling it is.

... Yeah, he's gonna go by a nickname.

[esamastation]

Reeve's Hot Biker Boyfriend

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62070220

Summary:

Post AC Cloud goes back in time to save the planet. He has a bunch of Reeve's and Cosmo Canyon's work with him and the plan is to steer tech in a different direction, hopefully (and maybe kill some people while Cloud's at it). In order to do this though, they need to work together and in order keep meeting without raising any alarm bells, they do pretend relationship. Aka, AC!Cloud as CC!Reeve's hot biker trophy boyfriend.

[esamastation]

I need a fake name for Cloud Strife for no particular reason what so ever. Please suggest names.

[esamastation]

Some Reeve Tuesti centric FF7 fic ideas...

1. Reeve Tuesti is the reincarnation of Regis Lucis Caelum and he's been keeping a secret from everybody - well, two. His ability to imbue Kings Magic into things (like, say, toy robots) and his young son, born with all the powers of the King of Light.

1.1. Alternatively, Regis is the reincarnation of Reeve and as a young prince he pushes through a bunch of quality-of-life-improvement reforms for the Kingdom of Lucis (like, say, proper railroads country wide) and as result the Great War has a very different conclusion.

1.2 Reeve and Regis switch bodies.

2. Reeve does time travel (maybe with friends?) and his plan is simple; the moment President Shinra makes the decision to drop the Sector Seven Plate, Reeve shoots him dead - and his directors too, if he can. And for the want of a nail, everything begins changing.

3. Reeve starts having doubts about Shinra long before the fall of Sector Seven. He also starts plotting WRO around the same time. Part of his plans involves having as much information as possible and so he's filled Midgar with his spy robots - in the shape of stray cats. Through their eyes, he finds Cloud before anyone else does.

4. Reality hopping Desmond (and in maybe a sort of System form, Clay) trying to escape some Isu trying to hunt them down. They get stuck in the ffvii world, and need some help getting through to the next reality / or just settling down in ffvii, but no one is going to help them for free. Between Clay hacking the local info sphere and Desmond's Eagle Vision they decide to go the way of assassins of old - by killing the bad guys for the benefit of a wealthy patron. There's certainly no shortage of those around. Problem is finding the patron. Reeve Tuesti isn't wealthy, exactly… but he will be once they make him the president.

5. Post AC Cloud goes back in time to save the planet. He has a bunch of Reeve's and Cosmo Canyon's work with him and the plan is to steer tech in a different direction, hopefully (and maybe kill some people while Cloud's at it). In order to do this though, they need to work together and in order keep meeting without raising any alarm bells, they do pretend relationship. Aka, AC!Cloud as CC!Reeve's hot biker trophy boyfriend.

...

i have a hankering for this man, idk.. Also, there's only 9 Cloud/Reeve fics on ao3??

[esamastation]

wvyld: Desmond wakes up in Angelgard — to find a guy in chains who feels Very Evil (daemons) to the Eagle Sense, but also. uhhhh. you know. it's just — the chains are going through his flesh it's. yeaah he may have to go against his intuition with this one, this is no way to treat an eldritch abomination....

Guess what I didn't write? Any of that. I did however write Desmond in FFXV. :D

-

He sleeps the deep, deep sleep of the Earth. He dreams of mountains, of ravines, of endless pressure and crushing weight. He sleeps, and dreams, and his dreams have the weight of gravity, the drag of continental plates, the churning of magma and rattling of earthquakes. They're slow dreams but they're not peaceful.

They're also never enough to distract him from the weight still resting on his shoulders. The weight he can never put down. The heat of it pounds down on him, burning him, crushing him. Weight and heat are the same, when you really think about it. Mass makes gravity makes pressure makes fire makes explosion. Gravity makes stars. Makes planets. Makes earth. It's all the same.

There's always some weight upon him. That is his task and nature, as an Astral. A shitty gig, if there ever was one.

He breathes in deep and then falls deeper into slumber. Deep into memories of other worlds and other planets and man that once was and doesn't really matter anymore. The Meteor is heavy, heavy, heavy, burning, burning, burning. He sleeps and dreams deep, deep, deep.

And then someone Sings with the Voice of Stars and drags him from Beneath - and for the first time in eons, Awakens him.

It's not a pleasant feeling, to become aware once more under all the weight of the Cosmos' Rage.

"God of the Earth I beseech you!" A small voice calls out from somewhere below. "Enter into a covenant with the Chosen King so that he may reclaim the Stone and purge the Darkness from our Star!"

It takes a moment - a stretch and press of time dilation under weight of infinite gravity - to remember what speech is. What the little voice is saying makes no sense, even then. "WHAT," he says, with the Meteor roaring like hellfire in his ear, deafening him.

There's a little human somewhere near his feet, tiny, tiny thing, blond and pale and wearing white. She reminds him of something from eons ago.

"The Time of the Prophecy is at hand!" the human says, grand and commanding and barely audible. "The Darkness Eternal threatens our Star and only the King of Light may defeat it! To do that, he will have your power - you must enter into this covenant!"

The words make no sense. "WHAT KING?" he asks. "WHAT COVENANT? WHAT DARKNESS? THERE'S ONLY THIS DAMNED THING," he shifts under the weight of the Meteor. "AND THE ASSURED DESTRUCTION SHOULD I EVER PUT IT DOWN."

The little human wavers and he realises - his voice is too loud. He's shouting at her. His quietest voice is deafening to her. Even so, she keeps shouting back. "There are worse dangers now! Even now the Darkness grows stronger - every day, it claims more of our Star's Light. Without that Light, there is no Life, without Life, there is no future! The Meteor doesn't matter now - "

"THEN WHY THE FUCK AM I STILL HOLDING IT?" he asks sarcastically, and the little human is thrown back, faltering under his power. Oops. Poor thing. "WHAT IS THIS DARKNESS YOU FEAR SO MUCH, THEN? WHAT IS SO BAD THAT YOU'VE AWOKEN ME FROM DEEP SLEEP?"

The human struggles to her feet, using her little staff to prop herself up, and faces him with a stern look on her face. "It is the Scourge of Stars!" she says and lifts her staff. "I will Show you!"

And she does. She shows him a Disease. A plague that causes transformations and shadows, that infects flora and fauna and twists them into living ash. It makes monsters they call Daemons, and it has been coming up again and again for the last two thousand years. No one knows where it came from, but people have a Prophecy about it.

The Draconian made a Prophecy about it. Apparently that's what they call that guy now. And the little human - the Oracle? The Oracle tells it to him like he's supposed to know it. Like he's already part of it.

"I DON'T KNOW YOUR PROPHECY," the Archaean - that's what they call him now, apparently - answers. "I'VE NO PART IN IT. I WAS UNDER BURDEN BEFORE YOUR STARSCOURGE EVEN APPEARED. THE DRACONIAN'S WORDS, SPOKEN EONS HENCE, HOLD NO SWAY OVER ME."

The little human falters. "But - but the Cosmogony - the Prophecy says - "

The Archaean strains under the weight of the Meteor. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT A PROPHECY IS, LITTLE ONE? IT'S SOMEONE VOLUNTEERING SOMEONE ELSE FOR A TASK THEY THEMSELVES WILL NOT DO. THAT'S ALL."

The little human shakes her head. "No, no, it has to be the Chosen King, the Draconian said - "

"IF THE DRACONIAN REALLY WANTED THIS DARKNESS GONE, HE'D DO IT HIMSELF," the Archaean says, unamused. "HE CERTAINLY HAS THE POWER. JUST LOOK AT ME." He shrugs his shoulders and the Meteor upon them, sending tremors through the earth beneath his feet. "WHO DO YOU THINK CAST THIS THING UPON ME?"

The Oracle clutches on her staff, her eyes wide. "The Draconian sent the Meteor down upon us?" she asks, horrified, and falls to her knees. "W-what? No, that's not possible. I don't - that can't be."

Well. That seems rather telling and alarming.

The little Oracle can't take this conversation for long, it seems like - his voice is too much for her, as it tends to be for most humans. There's no way around it, though. He can't do much for her. The Archaean simply cannot put down his burdens, not for a long, long time, not until the half life of the damned thing runs its course. Until then, it's just him between the Meteor and Eos - and an explosion that would rock the whole solar system, if the two ever met.

He can, however, detach a small portion of himself to act as his avatar.

-

"Well, don't you look far less tiny from this angle, huh," the Messenger says, cracking his neck and getting used to being human sized again. "Hello, Oracle."

The Oracle stares at him, wide eyed. "You - you're the Archaean?"

"Small part of him. It's a bit of a long term gig, holding up the Meteor," the Messenger says and peers up at himself, standing tall as a mountain under the Meteor. Already his larger self is going back to slumber - much easier to bear the weight like that. "Six thousand years down," the Messenger says, shooting finger guns at himself. "Six million more to go."

"Y-you -" the Oracle stammers and then goes down into a bow. "My Lord, I am your humble servant - I beseech you to listen to me, for our blight is true and dire."

"I believe you believe that, and it probably is pretty bad," the Messenger says and motions to the Meteor. "But if that thing goes down, it will destroy this whole planet. Into itty bitty space dust," he adds, just to drive the point across. "So, no. There will be no Covenant. The Archaean will not move. Not for a long, long time."

The Oracle looks at him, stricken - her lips actually quiver. "B-but I foresaw - this is meant to happen - all the writings -" she trails away, staring at him. "Is it really impossible?"

"It really is. If it was possible to put down the Meteor, the Meteor would be down, trust me, and I'd not be here," the Messenger says and shakes his head. "I'm sorry - whatever the Draconian has been telling people, the Archaean has no part in it. Our hands are tied."

The Oracle looks at him like she's going to cry. "I - all my life I've been preparing - training for this moment - I was supposed to awaken all the Artrals for Noctis - I -" she stops, drawing a hitching breath. "It's all been for naught - the Darkness will win? Our star will be destroyed?"

"Okay, okay, let's back up a bit," the Messenger says with some alarm, lifting his hands soothingly to calm her. "Why don't you tell me about this terrible fate about to befall all of us, and we'll figure it out?"

So, she tells him. Faltering and stuttering, she tells him everything she knows.

It's a lot.

-

So maybe sleeping away the eons under the Meteor's weight wasn't the smartest idea. Turns out, he's missed a lot. Like, apparently, the Fall of Solheim? Which, in the human time frame, happened eons ago, of course - six thousand years is ancient time for humans. Since then, there's been other nations, empires, kingdoms - like the one they're currently in, the Kingdom of Lucis, the one the Draconian chose. Which has since fallen into ruin, because of war.

"So," the Messenger says. "There was a Chosen One who was supposed to be the first king of Lucis, but he got sick with this Starscourge and was betrayed, so he was made the Accursed instead and the Kings of Lucis descend from his brother, the usurper. And now the current last heir to the throne is supposed to kill his many, many times grand uncle to defeat the Scourge once and for all. With Astral's power and the Crystal."

The Oracle, now sitting down on a rocky ledge looking small and sad and hopeless, nods.

The Messenger rubs at his forehead. "And that didn't clue you in to the fact that Draconian is making this shit up as he goes along?"

The Oracle's shoulders slump. "Gods are fallible, I know," she says. "But I thought the Revelation of Bahamut was true. Everyone always said it was. Even the Kings of Lucis believe in it, and they're the closest to him."

"Sounds to me like nothing is true, really," the Messenger muses. "But okay. I have a question - what, exactly, is the Crystal you keep mentioning?"

The Oracle looks up, and sort of sputters at him. "It - what - how can you not - " she chokes out. "It's the Heart of our Star - "

"The heart of a Star is mostly hydrogen and helium and thermonuclear fusion under pressure," the Messenger says and folds his arms. "I've never heard of this Crystal of yours. Is it something the Draconian made, maybe?"

"I-it was gifted to mankind so that we may know lasting prosperity -" the Oracle says before faltering and frowning at her own knees, confused. "It gives powers to the Kings of Lucis. It has protected the Kingdom for centuries, and they have protected it. I don't…"

The Messenger scratches at his neck, not sure what to tell her. It sounds like a lot of stuff the Astrals can do. The Archaean could probably whip up a magical rock too, if he wasn't under a bit of pressure at the moment. Well, he could probably still do it.

Under pressure is how gems were made.

Bit beside the point, though.

The Oracle looks up at him, actual tears in her eyes. "Everything I have been told my whole life is a lie, isn't it?" she asks as the tears spill out. "The Revelation of Bahamut is a lie. The Draconian dwells in the Crystal, it's his chamber, his fortress and for two thousand years the Kings of Lucis have bled for its upkeep."

Ouch. "Don't know what to tell you, Lady, this is all news to me," the Messenger says awkwardly. "Maybe we should set the whole… existential horror aside for a moment. Tell me more about this Accursed."

-

Six thousand years he bore the weight of the Meteor just fine. Now that he's stepped away from it, this is what he gets from it - a tension headache.

"So this guy was a healer fighting this Scourge, he was the Chosen One, supposed to be the king, the First King of Lucis, this great magical nation to be…" the Messenger says, just to clarify, while rubbing at his temple. "And then he was betrayed, usurped, and kept prisoner and tortured by the Kings of Lucis for two thousand years."

The Oracle nods slowly.

The Messenger hums in understanding. "Yeah, I kind of see where he's coming from."

The Oracle winces. "Yes, same," she admits with a sigh and then continues her increasingly depressing explanation of all the things he'd missed.

It's getting late by the time he has the full picture. Time is relative when you're Ancient Astral Being, or whatever, but as a Messenger he experiences daylight the same as your regular humans and the sun is going down below the horizon. Which apparently means the Daemons of the Star Scourge are going to come out.

"Alrighty, I want to see these Daemons and the Scourge for myself," the Messenger says, stretching his arms. "I'm guessing the radiation from the Meteor is keeping them away from here?"

"The light, yes," the Oracle says, lifting her staff. "I have the power to keep them at bay. I can also create Havens, sacred ground that will repel them."

"Neat - don't do that just yet, though, I want to see them," the Messenger says. "After that we can hopefully figure out something that won't involve the Archaean's power."

"Right," the Oracle says, taking a slow breath to steel herself, preparing to lever herself back to her feet with her staff. "I will do all I can, even - even if I cannot fulfil my original duty. I will do everything I can to cure our star."

"That's the spirit," the Messenger says and holds out a hand to her. "By the way, never caught your name."

"Lunafreya - Lunafreya Nox Fleuret," the Oracle says and takes his hand. "And you, my lord - what can I call you?"

"Not your lord, for a start," the Messenger says and pulls her up and to her feet, thinking of a name. Oh, well, why fix what's not broken. "Call me Desmond. Now, what say you we get out of here Lunafreya?"

Lunafreya nods and follows him away from the crater. Behind them the Archaean stands still, steadfastly shouldering his stellar burden, like he always did. Desmond casts him a last look, shaking his head - the last six thousand years had not been kind to him. The Meteor's radiation really brought out the Isu in him too, it looks like. Awkward.

One of these days he would stop being such a sucker about world ending disasters. One of these days.

Not today though.

-

Lol. Lmao even.

Here you can see in real time my daily word limit coming at me as I pass it somewhere in the middle of this and the writing starts getting increasingly nonsensical as it goes on. Anyway. Desmond as the Archaean, just because the white streaks on Titan made me go 👀

Also we're just ignoring Gentiana's existence here entirely. And pretty much all sense and logic.

It's 2 a.m. I'm tired.

[esamastation]

fanciestgeckofella: desmond transmigrates into liu qingge

(This is not that, sorry, but I do have a snippet where Desmond transmigrated into Yue Qingyuan which I don't think I ever posted, so, have that one instead.)

-

First thing to go through Desmond's mind is something along the lines of, Oh fuck, here we go again. Next is complete and absolute bafflement. Because he's pretty sure he's supposed to be dead right now.

That alone is very confusing. Then there is… this thing.

[Welcome to the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way! This System is designed to guide you as you go about your existence in this world. Operating under the guiding principle, You Can You Up, No Can No BB, this System hopes to provide you with an pleasant user experience!]

Desmond blinks at the floating screen in front of him. It… doesn't exactly look like any kind of Animus screen he's ever seen - it actually kind of looks like it's from computer from pre-2000s or something, with blocky grey boarder like something he's seen in old TV shows. No Animus programmer would be caught dead using aesthetic like that. Right?

… Well, actually. He could totally see some retro-loving techie liking it. Not Rebecca, though, she's a futurist through and through, but if she'd been into the old style Window XP or something, it probably wouldn't have taken much effort for her to install some sort of theme - aaand that's completely beside the point.

It's an Animus. He's in the Animus again… somehow. Hm.

"Um," Desmond says out loud, and clears his throat. His voice is weird, different from how it should be. Not that unusual, in the Animus, that, but it feels… more than just having an ancestor transposed over himself. Man, they must've upgraded the Animus a lot while he was, uh… "I'm… aren't I supposed to be… dead?" he asks slowly and feels a bit silly doing it, because he's clearly still around, and yet…

[You have indeed died! Your consciousness has been transferred, and your role has been bound: Yue Qingyuan, the Sect Leader of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.]

… Okay, that's a bit different, but he can almost understand it. Consciousness transfer, role bound, that's probably new term for running around in your ancestor's skin. Yue Qingyuan, that's his ancestor this time around then. Cool. Sounds Chinese, which is interesting, Desmond didn't know they had any family there, but hey, Rebecca did say he had ridiculously low pedigree collapse, so that would mean his ancestry spread pretty far, right?

Ezio did have a Chinese student, Shao Jun, so, some pre-existing connections there. Maybe few generations down the line, they became bit closer. Rubbing a hand over his face and finding some of those familiar markers he shared with Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhake:ton - full lips, aquiline nose, high cheekbones… Desmond nods to himself. Yeah, yeah, seems about right.

And yet there's still something just a bit… off.

"Okay," he says, drawing a breath. "I'm still kind of stuck up on the being dead part. Did you reboot my DNA or something? How am I here being, like, a living - or at least a thinking - person?"

The System window seems to consider this for a moment before answering.

[Your consciousness was captured from your dead body and transferred into your new role.]

Oh.

Desmond squints. "Captured how?"

[Your consciousness was captured from your dead body and transferred into your new role.]

… helpful.

So it was the Grand Temple - the Grand Temple did something? He'd been digitised like Clay and Juno, maybe? Okay, yeah, cool, that makes sense. Not sure how well he likes it yet, but hey, he's around, he's thinking, maybe sorta-kinda living and breathing - it's a step above from not… doing those things. Yeah. He can do this. "Nice. And who's Yue Qi-qin - how do you say that name, again? Who is he?"

[Yue Qingyuan is the Sect Leader of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, also known as the Xuan Su sword.]

Desmond hums in understanding, eying the window, waiting for more. Nothing more comes, so he says slowly. "… Okay. And what am I supposed to do with him? I mean. What are we after here? Another piece of Eden, or… what?" he asks, folding his - folding Yue Qingyuan's - arms. "What is the mission status?"

[…]

That's all he gets. Literal ellipses, before the System window slowly flattens and disappear, leaving him blinking at empty air.

"… O-kay…?" Desmond mutters, making a face. "That was weird."

He'd never been left hanging in the Animus before. Not cool. The whole initialisation here process was a bit weird, really. Almost feels like they'd left him with an automated answering machine version of the Animus UI, or something. Was he even talking to an actual person there? What the heck. Why resurrect his consciousness at all, if they're not going to tell him what he's supposed to do here? Even Vidic didn't leave him completely in the dark…

Who resurrected him anyway? The Assassins or the Templars?

Uncertain, Desmond glances around for some sort of guidance or clue. The place is nice, and the graphic quality has gone through some incredible upgrades, like, damn. You'd almost mistake it for reality. But there is something seriously off about this. Not just the weird answering machine Animus, but… everything, really.

It doesn't feel like any Animus he's ever been in either. Usually when he starts out, it's as a passive viewer in his ancestor's memory - it takes a bit before he gets control and even then it's sorta not… not full control. Desmond is more used to being the passenger to his ancestor's actual driver. There's never not a moment where he doesn't feel like a second wheel on a unicycle.

Here, it's just him at the steering wheel, just him on the pedals. There's no other mind, no framework of another life - no shell of a person that once was. It's just him, in another body. Weird.

The terminology used was weird too - nothing like the lingo Rebecca or Shaun would've used. You can you up? No can no BB? What does that even mean?

Desmond rubs at his chin for a moment - baby smooth, not even a stubble - and then shrugs his shoulders and goes to get up. Might as well take a look around and try and figure out the limitations of this version of Animus. And it's not like he knew anything about Altaïr or the others either, not before getting the synchronisation up and running, so… better get started with that.

It's still a bit weird though. Usually he gets thrown into a cut scene first to get started with. Waking up in someone's - frankly rather fancy - bedroom is new. Ezio not counting.

Oh well.

-

And then he walks out under dressed and scandalises all the disciples on Qiong Ding Peak.

Alas that is as far as it got really, but the idea of Desmond as Yue Qingyuan is still weirdly dear to me.

[esamastation]

ladyjazzhands: Ezio x Shen Qingqiu, somehow

There's a foreigner staying in the Warm Red Pavilion, who speaks not a word anyone can understand. Shen Qingqiu hates him on sight.

He's everything he loathes in a man. Leering and smarmy, with unkempt short hair and beard, armoured like a rough barbarian, with the manners and body language of one used to throwing his weight around, he dominates every room he is in. Shen Qingqiu can't see why, but somehow every courtesan present seems drawn to his presence and he's never seen without a woman or two under his arm.

Well, he does see why. The low, purring words he speaks to the ladies of the brothel might fall all but to deaf ears - but money speaks its own insidious language. Even though his coin is strange, it's plentiful and heavy and always easily parted to his adoring audience as the foreigner teasingly lures the courtesans to him with the foreign coins dancing nimbly on the backs of his knuckles.

They play for him, they introduce him to the local food and wine, and then they take him up stairs for more, and Shen Qingqiu wants nothing more than to see them do to him what they'd done to another barbarian, not long ago. There's nothing quite as satisfying as seeing rough men being thrown out of a window by a group of giggling women.

Alas, aside from looking strange, speaking language no one understands and acting like the worst sort of letcher, the foreigner has done nothing but favour the ladies of the Warm Red Pavilion and clearly they intend to only adore him back.

At least, until his coin purse would run dry.

"How long has he been here?" Shen Qingqiu asks the Madam, as the owner of the brothel joins him for tea.

"Oh, Ai Qiao? He arrived here this morning," the Madam says, as one of the younger courtesans pours for them. "Though he appeared in town sometime yesterday. No one is sure when, exactly - but he made his presence known late afternoon, in the market - where he attempted to find someone who spoke a language he understood. Which he did not find."

Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes. "He's far inland, to be without a guide or a translator," he mutters, considering. "How did he end up here?"

"Oh, he found his way here - he might've seen one of my girls running errands," the Madam muses and gives him a look. "Does Xiao Jiu know him?"

"No," Shen Qingqiu says and sips his tea. He doesn't know the man's style of clothes either - and more damningly, he doesn't know his language. Though Shen Qingqiu hasn't ever had the time to truly dedicate to learning other languages, he is confident enough to say that he at least knows most human languages by sound. The cadence of Ai Qiao's speech alone is completely unknown to him, never mind the sound he makes, the words he speaks.

There are few things he can deduce, if somewhat begrudgingly, about the man's attire. Though the style is absolutely nonsensical, it's not without finesse - the armour was not just well crafted but to some extent artistic, with floral designs hammered into the metal. The leather straps of it are well made and well maintained and the man's clothes are clearly well tailored and well kept. White like that, on a warrior - there's only so many people Shen Qingqiu knows who can wield a sword and keep white clothes clean, and all of them are immortal cultivators.

It could be indicative of a wealthy warrior without much experience. There were many rich idiots out there who clad themselves in even more extravagant armour that would never see battle, showing off their wealth and claiming bravery where they had none. Except…

Shen Qingqiu clutched onto his cup.

Even outside the aura of mortal danger around the foreigner, Ai Qiao's armour isn't without a scratch - in fact, beneath it's shine and polish, it's quite well worn and battered. And then there is the man's armament - which is… extensive. Sword, crossbow, numerous throwing daggers, bombs… never mind the things hidden in his sleeves, whatever they are. All which the foreigner wore with casual confidence even Liu Qingge would find unnerving.

The man is a killer, there is no doubt in Shen Qingqiu's mind - if not a murderer. And he is currently in congress with who knows how many of Warm Red Pavilion's girls. Even with all the training Shen Qingqiu had given them, and all the weapons he'd done his best to supply with them… none of them are fit to face against a trained killer.

The Madam looks at him, and sees right through him. She smiles knowingly, but is kind enough to not draw attention to his white knuckled fingers or his clenched jaw. "I will have the girls prepare a room in the back," she says. "Will Xiao Jiu play for us tonight?"

"This one will," Shen Qingqiu says. "Let me know when the foreigner falls asleep."

-

The foreigner doesn't fall asleep. For more than two sichens he partakes in the women of the pavilion before making his unwelcome presence known in the hall where Shen Qingqiu is playing the qing. The man saunters in confidently with his armour askew and his knife belt loose, his hair a worse mess than before, grinning with great satisfaction.

"Li-mei," Shen Qingqiu says under his breath to his most recent student in the brothel, a fifteen year old girl who's watching him play intently. "Go see to the girls he left behind."

The girl bows and slips away to take the hidden ladder upstairs. In the meanwhile Ai Qiao is already being attended to by another courtesan at loose ends, who takes the man's arm eagerly and leads him to a table - and to an expensive bottle of wine.

Shen Qingqiu continues to play, keeping his glaring to a minimum while watching the foreign killer. Though it's clear he can't understand a word Ding-er says, they get along just swimmingly, as the man teases her into giggling with his low words and appreciative touches.

Two sichen with who knows how many women and the man still has an appetite for more.

Shen Qingqiu plays, keeping his posture proud and his movements elegant, not letting his worry or disgust show. He doesn't relax until young Li-mei returns to him to tell that, "They're sleeping - all of them," with a giggle. "I think the patron wore them out!"

It takes effort not to verbally express his abhorrence and keep his fingers moving smoothly over the strings. "All of them - how many of them did he have?" Shen Qingqiu demands with disquiet.

"Four," Li-mei giggles.

Incredible - no, impossible. The girls of Warm Red Pavilion might not have the stamina of cultivators, but they have more stamina than to be laid low by a mortal man. Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes, still playing, and asks, "And they were all… well?" Had Ai Qiao knocked them out - had he struck them, drugged them?

"They looked quite snug and comfortable to me," Li-mei answers, amused. "And the patron left enough coin to cover all their services."

Shen Qingqiu casts a look towards Ai Qiao, who's now listening to Ding-er speak, smiling even though he can't understand a word and urging her on with his hums and murmured encouragement. His fingers, Shen Qingqiu notes, are gently stroking the edge of her collar, where her hanfu leaves her shoulder exposed. The touch is as covetous as it is appreciative. One could even call it proprietorial.

It's nothing he's not seen hundreds of other men do to the women of the brothel, and he's not stupid enough to interject - this is their occupation, and men like Ai Qiao is how they make their living. And a man like this, lustful and generous in his lustiness, is exactly the kind of customer a brothel loves - one who showers several girls with coin and doesn't hold back. And yet…

There is something about this one Shen Qingqiu cannot stand. At first he thinks it's the beard, the attitude, the foreign manners, the way he can't even sit properly. The low tone of his voice, the smarmy smiles he gives everyone, how freely he expresses his desires despite the language barrier. But no.

It's the look in his eyes - dark, shrewd, calculating. It sends cold shivers down Shen Qingqiu's back.

Ai Qiao would be out of the brothel by morning, Shen Qingqiu swears, even if he had to throw the man out himself.

-

Ai Qiao is plied with wine and snacks but doesn't let himself be drawn into a bedroom - instead he sticks to the main hall, chatting nonsensically with Ding-er and then with many other of the women who find themselves at loose ends as the night wears on. The courtesans take turns trying to teach Ai Qiao new words, giggling uproariously at his horrendous pronunciation as he struggles over sounds his own language clearly lacks.

Shen Qingqiu keeps playing and watching and gritting his teeth as the foreigner lets himself be humiliated by the giggling courtesans that have once more begun flocking around him, seemingly as entertained by them as they are by him. Every now and then someone would find their way in his lap and the man would dote upon them, but beyond that he seems satisfied in simply being there and enjoying their company.

And he refuses to tire and go to sleep. He outlasts all the other patrons, who either get ushered into rooms or outside once their coin begins to run out. Ai Qiao's purse remains quite heavy, even with all the coins he's so happily shared with the girls around him, and so he keeps going and going - until finally the hour grows so late that even the women, used to late nights, start tiring.

Shen Qingqiu himself would be asleep by now, if this was a normal night - but he is still on high alert and Ai Qiao doesn't even seem drunk anymore, bidding the sleepy ladies fond good nights with kisses to their hands and some more coins in their palms. Infuriating man.

"Xiao Jiu," the Madam murmurs, coming to his side. "It's late."

By which she means, most of the patrons of the brothel are asleep, and she doesn't want him to play anymore lest he wake them up.

With a slow breath, Shen Qingqiu brings his last piece to a conclusion and then rests his aching fingers on the qing strings. "Very well," he says. "This one shall have some wine now."

Giving him a look, the Madam sighs. "He's been the perfect quest all night," she says quietly. "You need not be so wary. All is well, I promise."

Shen Qingqiu doesn't bother to answer and with a shake of her head the Madam rises and goes to seek her own bed for the night, trusting her women to care for the last patrons they have - namely, Shen Qingqiu and Ai Qiao. Scoffing after her, Shen Qingqiu takes his time going over the Qing and easing it into its case before accepting the bottle brought to him by Ling Ji, one of the older courtesans present.

"Xiao Jiu played beautifully, and for so long," the older courtesan comments while pouring for him. "It has made this a lovely night."

Shen Qingqiu accept the compliment with a nod and distractedly accept the cup - and by then, Ai Qiao is watching them, his eyes considering, his lids low. In an instant Shen Qingqiu is back on the very end of his already frayed nerves, his face growing hot with fury - and, to his utter revulsion, Ai Qiao smiles at him.

Most of the girls are yawning around the man now, and with more kisses and coins bestowed to their hands, the man bids them goodnight - and then he rises. With clear intent and that confident swagger he'd entered with, Ai Qiao approaches the dias where Shen Qingqiu had been playing and is still sitting - and it's plainly obvious what the man's purpose is. He's still smiling - and then one he's smiling at is not Ling Ji.

Shen Qingqiu goes from hot to cold and then back to hot as his fury blazes into pure rage.

Shen Qingqiu rises to his feet in outrage and, clearly delighted, Ai Qiao bows to him - completely wrong and all too theatrical, swinging his arm strangely. The man says, "Ezio Auditore da Firenze, mia cara signora," clearly an introduction. "È un piacere conoscerti." And then he tries to kiss Shen Qingqiu's hand.

Shen Qingqiu throws his wine at his face before he can.

-

And Ezio absolutely took it as a challenge, haha.

[esamastation]

Doing this one - quick, someone tell me how a person from PIDW would say Ezio's name???