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kaelor0409 · 1 year ago

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Dead By Daylight

The Artist: Revised Backstory

While I like Carmina Mora (The Artist)’s design and theme, her backstory leaves a bit to be desired. Her relationship with the Entity is a departure from its usual MO as an opportunistic corruptor. It also brings in elements that, by the very nature of the game, are basically doomed to go nowhere.

More importantly, there is no need to introduce an evil corporation or sinister cult to mutilate and kill an anti-authoritarian Chilean artist. The Pinochet regime arrested, tortured, and ‘disappeared’ those sorts of people for almost two decades, with famous singer Victor Jara and many others suffering tortures very similar to what was done to Carmina. It was the perfect opportunity to acknowledge and publicize a tragedy that is often ignored or glossed over (because the United States backed Pinochet’s coup and Britain supported him for his help in the Falklands War), as well as show that sometimes the things real, ordinary humans do to each other are more terrifying than any horror monster.

So here’s an alternative backstory for our dear Artist.

Content warning: torture, suicide, and death

Carmina Mora came from a broken home. Her father was an abusive drunk, and her mother abandoned them shortly after the birth of Carmina’s younger brother Matias. Her father was quick to blame Carmina and Matias for their mother’s disappearance, though Carmina did her best to shield Matias from his abuse. Due to her father’s negligence Carmina was Matias’ only caretaker. It was a task she was far too young for, but she loved her brother with all her heart. Besides Matias, the only other joy in Carmina’s miserable home were the art supplies her mother had left behind. No one ever showed her how to draw or paint, but splashing and scribbling colors onto a page or canvas proved a useful outlet for her emotions and helped her feel close to her missing mother. Carmina could not say she was happy, but with Matias and her art she was able to find peace.

It did not last.

Carmina and Matias were playing along the bank of a nearby river when a local policeman arrived, accusing them of truancy and demanding to know where their parents were. Carmina attempted to explain, and by the time the officer had left Matias was nowhere to be seen. Carmina searched frantically and was horrified to see his limp body being slowly swept downstream. In her brief distraction, Matias had wandered out of sight, fallen into the river, and drowned. The aftermath of Matias’ death was a whirlwind of pain, grief, and guilt. Carmina blamed herself for his death. So did her father, though nothing he shouted at her could cut so deeply as what she told herself when she was alone.

In her spiral of grief, Carmina eventually walked onto the bridge over the same river that had claimed Matias. The location was extremely popular for suicides, earning the name “Death Leap”, and Carmina intended to be its next victim. Convinced she was responsible for her brother’s death, a belief her father confirmed every night with his screams and drunken blows, Carmina could no longer stand the endless guild that clawed like talons at her gut. Desperate for any kind of release, she hurled herself off the bridge to join her brother in death.

What Carmina did not know was the riverbank was also frequented by a local birdwatcher, who made a hobby of studying and sketching the birds that nested nearby. When he came to the river as he always did, he immediately noticed a group of crows circling over something on the riverbank. He was astonished, since crows are not native to Chile, so he immediately set out to investigate. He realized the birds were circling the battered body of a girl: Carmina, who had somehow survived the fall into the river and washed up on the bank.

As she recovered in a local hospital, Carmina became fascinated with the crows that had inadvertently helped save her. She returned again and again to the bank where she had washed up, bringing them food and watching them. She was often joined by the birdwatcher, and he explained that the crows were likely partially domesticated. Crows are extremely intelligent, capable of completing complex tasks for various rewards, and probably came to Chile following someone who once used to feed them. Now that she was feeding them, it seemed that they had bonded to her instead. He taught her to sketch them with charcoal, turning her love of art from a hobby into a passion. Art became an outlet for her guilt and grief, and while her drunken father still screamed she learned to ignore his words.

Carmina was soon old enough to abandon her abusive home and was almost immediately swept up in the growing Nueva Cancion (New Song) movement. Her comrades in the Nueva Cancion movement showed her the joys of songs and poetry. They supplied her with books, something that had been in short supply where she’d grown up, and Carmina greedily devoured every single one. She would later joke that her dream home would be a nest in a tall tower, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of books. Carmina soon began to write instead of merely read. Her poems were quite popular, but her primary focus was always her art. Her signature inky black style, inspired by the glossy black feathers of her crows, was very distinctive and she was a mainstay of the Chilean art scene in the late 1960s and early 1970s. As she lay dying on the bank of the river, her final vision had been of black wings and avian eyes, so abstract crows were a reoccurring theme she used to represent death. Her crows followed her everywhere and Carmina incorporated them into her art, making the act of creation a performance that included elaborate costumes and her ever-present crows.

Like many artists at the time, Carmina frequently used her art to criticize government corruption and expose injustice. Pushback and threats from authorities merely emboldened her. She openly vandalized the walls of government buildings, police stations, courtrooms, and monuments in her usual performative style, her shining black paint intended to reflect the darkness and corruption she felt hid behind their polished facades. These acts of defiance would soon have disastrous consequences.

When Pinochet took power in 1973 through a violent coup, he immediately targeted anyone he perceived as a threat, particularly political opponents, leftists, and “subversives”. Within two weeks 7000 prisoners were being held at the National Stadium alone, with many more held at other locations or executed on the spot.

Carmina herself was arrested mid-performance and dragged to a nearby monastery in the Atacama Desert, a monastery the regime had seized to use as a detention center. Prisoners were physically and psychologically tortured: starved, beaten, humiliated, denied sleep for days, and electrocuted, among many other horrors. The bell tower in particular was a favorite location for these torments, as it allowed the screams of the victims to echo through the entire monastery and surrounding desert as a potent psychological weapon. Prisoners were hung from its beams and left to dangle while they were beaten, burned, and whipped. Weights were often tied to their limbs, causing their bodies to agonizingly stretch until their arms and legs popped from their sockets. Some were even hung by their necks, left to slowly strangle only to be cut down at the last moment so they could be hung all over again.

Those who died from their tortures or were executed were also strung up in the bell tower, attracting flocks of carrion birds that tore at the living and dead alike. The constant presence of these birds caused the guards to begin mockingly referring to it as the Eyrie.

Carmina’s fame immediately singled her out, and in addition to the normal torments the guards mockingly demanded she paint her fellow prisoners being tortured. They refused to give her actual paint, instead forcing her to use blood, bile, and filth. Under threat of death and torture, she complied with their demands. Carmina crafting a number of abstract paintings that, despite their crude nature, still managed to convey the raw pain, sorrow, and despair of the victims in a manner that was almost palpable. The guards hung these paintings in her tiny prison cell to further mock her, something Carmina used to her advantage. She scribbled poetry on the backs of the paintings, sometimes in her own blood, then tore them into small pieces and slid them through the bars in her window along with some of the meager food she was allowed. Carmina was already starving, so to sacrifice even crumbs was a painful blow, but she soon reaped the rewards.

Her ever-present crows had followed Carmina even to the remote prison, and they immediately swooped down to consume her offerings. She’d often given them scraps of cloth or paper for their nests in the past, so they also snatched up her torn paintings and carried them away. Carmina’s friends and compatriots were familiar with her signature crows and where they nested. Those lucky enough to have escaped the initial purge soon spotted the new additions to these nests and realized Carmina was using her crows to smuggle messages out. Her paintings revealed the true horrors of the regime’s torture camps and were swiftly passed to anti-government groups throughout Chile.

Though Carmina suffered as much as any other prisoner at the cruel hands of her captors and often suffered more than others due to her fame, her guilt at seeing her friends and comrades suffer eclipsed any physical torment. In her smuggled poetry she compared her situation to being back on the bank of the river, watching her brother drown over and over and being unable to save him. As days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, this guilt began to take a toll on Carmina’s mind.

Her artwork became more savage, and her poems took on darker and darker tones. In one, she wrote about wishing to drive the dull palette blade she’d been given for her “art” into a fellow prisoner’s eye and leaving him for the birds. The poem expressed a longing for all those around her, prisoner and guard alike, to die so that the crows would be her only company. Their dispassionate black eyes held no judgement, and though they screamed at least their screams did not fill her with guilt.

She remained defiant despite her fraying sanity, until at last her schemes were exposed. In a desperate gamble, several of Carmina’s most shocking poems and paintings were released to the public. It was hoped that the visceral evidence of what the regime was doing would spark outrage around the world, and the resulting pressure would force Pinochet to ease his grip. The attempt failed. Pinochet had powerful allies, allies who had helped him take power and had a vested interest in keeping him there. Carmina’s artwork was dismissed as false propaganda, and Carmina herself was painted as a deranged anarchist and communist. The efforts to expose the crimes of Pinochet and his regime only managed to stir up a handful of minor protests and diplomatic rebukes, which were easily ignored.

As the world turned its back on the suffering of Chile and its people, it became clear that the release of Carmina’s art had done nothing but seal her fate. Once it was revealed that she’d somehow been smuggling subversive materials to anti-government groups, retribution was swift. The guards dragged her out of her cell and hacked off her hands with machetes in front of the other prisoners, demanding to know how she would paint her pictures or scribble her poems now? She told them she would paint with her bloody stumps and speak her poems aloud every minute of every day. In response the guards cut out her tongue and threw her back into her cell to ‘paint her pictures’.

The final account of Carmina Mora comes from a prisoner who was in the process of being transferred to another facility. He was dragged past Carmina’s cell shortly after her dismemberment, and claimed he saw her there. Blood was trickling from her mouth, but her eyes were filled with madness as she dragged her raw sumps across the rough concrete wall, painting her final masterpiece even as she bled to death.

She was never seen again.

The legacy of the prison facility where Carmina was held is a confusing one. Shortly after Carmina’s mutilation, contact with the facility was lost due to a severe earthquake that knocked out electrical and phone lines in the area. The Atacama Desert is what is known as a ‘fog desert’: the majority of its moisture comes not from rain but from fogs rolling off the nearby Andes Mountains. Extreme banks of fog were not uncommon at the monastery-turned-prison, it was the primary reason the monks had been able to thrive in what is otherwise one of the driest deserts in the world, but when the fog finally cleared almost a week after the earthquake the facility was completely deserted. There were no signs of the prisoners or guards, and all of their equipment had been left behind. The last painting of Carmina Mora was discovered covering the walls of her old cell: spider-like limbs, reeking of malice and covered in sadistic barbs and blades, curling down to menace a single flickering flame of hope.

Government officials stated afterward that the facility was shut down because its location made resupply difficult. The official release claimed that the guards and prisoners were all accounted for and had merely been shuffled off to different locations. Certain local sources dispute this, pointing out that no convoys of guards or prisoners were ever spotted on the road leading from the monastery and questioning why so much expensive equipment was just abandoned if it was a planned relocation. Some claim that the official story is merely a coverup. They instead maintain that a resistance cell attacked the facility, killing the guards and freeing the prisoners. No evidence has ever surfaced to support this alternative claim.

While many of the poems Carmina Mora wrote in prison were copied down or memorized and thus survived, the same cannot be said of her artwork. They were made on scavenged paper with vile substitutes that did not last like traditional ink or paint. They were torn apart to smuggle them out of the prison, picked at by birds, and the surviving shreds had to be stored in harsh environments to hide them from the regime’s agents. The government destroyed any scraps they could find, and those that escaped soon disintegrated. The few scraps of Carmina’s prison paintings that survived were eagerly sought by those fascinated by the macabre and grotesque and have long-since vanished into private collections. Attempts by Chilean groups to recover and memorialize them have met with no success.

Carmina’s final masterpiece has also been lost. The earthquake that struck the monastery did serious damage to its foundations, and when a second earthquake hit a year later it completely collapsed the majority of the monastery. This included the cell where Carmina’s final painting was located. Chile remained in a grip of terror due to the ongoing efforts of the regime, so after the initial brief exploration no one dared venture into the abandoned site for fear that they too would be arrested. When the monastery collapsed Carmina’s painting was destroyed along with it, and the only description of the painting comes from one of the anonymous individuals who first found the site after its abandonment.

Today only the infamous “Eyrie” remains, along with the sprawling graveyard that surrounded the monastery. Many of these graves and crypts are from long before the regime’s occupation, used by the monks to bury their fellows or residents of nearby towns, but a large number of crude or unmarked graves have been discovered containing the bones of those who died in the prison. Its remote location and the sheer number of bodies interred around it gave the monastery-turned-prison a bleak new nickname: the Forsaken Boneyard.

An official effort was made to disinter the graves so the remains could be identified and sent back to their families, but the effort was plagued by bad weather, yet another earthquake, and a bloody accident that claimed the lives of two workers. These disasters eventually forced the identification effort to be called off completely. A movement to remake the site into a memorial was similarly abandoned due to the monastery’s remote location and the risk that further earthquakes might collapse what little remained.

Like many victims of the Pinochet regime’s campaign of terror, Carmina Mora’s remains were never found.

#dead by daylight #the artist #carmina mora #dbd the artist #alternative lore #chile #augusto pinochet #operation condor

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alwaysonelectrical · 2 months ago

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castlebyersafterdark · 7 months ago

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yes YESSSSS don't even get me started on junkets and press! ever since s4 dropped and i got back into ST, i have been fantasising about the fancy editorials they could do with noah and finn. i'm talking vogue, i'm talking gq, esquire, even some indie mags like i-d like they used to when the show first dropped. i want to see them both together in designer clobber photographed by giampaolo sgura or some shit. i want to see a whole narrative set up, like cowboys at a gas station in the middle of nowhere, shot in black and white. or a set up in a photography studio, something including a sword prop for finn but with a modern edgy twist? like a heart painted over his chest and noah dragging his hand through it, red paint everywhere. lots of smouldering looks. you know, like back when actors actually got back into character for their editorial photo shoots, gazed into each other's eyes.

maybe its my background in set design and editorial just freaking out lol, but they have so much potential and i cant believe how cheesy the majority of ST group photoshoots have been over the years. like, i looked up something similar for the challengers movie, being all erotic as it was, and the photoshoots are soooo lacking in passion, it's a freakin crime

(i also really hope for a long junket with more serious journalists, at least an hour long, moderated by a proper news outlet or even a guild? there's just so much meaning i want to excavate, and not just about byler, but certainly a lot about the actors' experiences of that because even if it is only noah who is out, there'll be lots of interesting things to discuss there. i think the show deserves so much better than page 3 press)

Oh, you're really speaking my language now, this is such a vision. Where is the glamour in Hollywood anymore, the romance of making television and film? Selling the characters, the chemistry! Imagine all of our wildest dreams come true and Byler is well and true and established. The really in depth think-pieces could be insane. The PHOTOSHOOTS?? Lordddd, you said it all. Bring some genuine artistry to the promo of these articles instead of just some trendy off runway outfits that look odd slapped on the stars as they pose halfway between a catalog and an instagram shoot. No! Give us mood, give us drama, give us chemistry!

Cowboys at the gas station! The smeared red heart??? I'm hand to my forehead swooning over that, you have been gifted with true sight. Sure hope you're peeking into our post-season 5 landscape because. I'm impressed with these vibes. And now I'll be so disappointed if we just get gab and drab all over again for the promo.

There could be so much room for really detailed and thoughtful conversation and both Noah and Finn seem very introspective actors. I'd love for them to really be given the chance to dive into their experience and world of Stranger Things that's been so important for a decade of their lives. Ahhhh.

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bluewitchcreator · 11 months ago

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Exploring the Endless Creativity of Arts and Crafts

Arts and crafts have been integral to human expression for centuries, serving as a means of creative outlet, cultural preservation, and personal enjoyment. From ancient civilizations to modern societies, individuals have engaged in various forms of artistic creation, utilizing diverse materials, techniques, and inspirations. In this article, we delve into the rich world of arts and crafts, exploring its history, significance, and enduring appeal.

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afrinanie · 2 years ago

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searchcoolelectricians · 2 years ago

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How to Become an Electrician

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palaisbv · 2 years ago

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blucifer08 · 3 years ago

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Tell me about Naru’s time with the Weaver’s Guild in Ul’dah. Catering for the stylistic whims of Ul’Dahn society ladies must have been quite a change from her martial beginnings? Or did she stick more to crafting gear for miners and adventurers? How did she get on with Rendolent Rose?

I've been thinking about this a bit! Truly the weaver bit of her lore is just something small for me. She needed a way to make a living when she ended up in Ul'dah. It was during this time she started training with the weavers-- AND she was training with her friend Levi on the side.

Levi taught her to draw, and his artistic abilities helped inspire her when she learned to make clothes and sew. She discovered that she really likes fashion, and the creative outlet helps her cope with her wounded pride. (She got injured really badly by some Garleans, which is how she wound up in Ul'dah basically)

I think she made a lot of gear for socialite men and women, designing really good and cool clothes. But she didn't do this job that long! She took more to the art lifestyle that Levi taught her and eventually she started making more money doing portraits :)

(I don't remember the weaver quests so unfortunately I can't elaborate on her relationship about rendolent rose :( i'm sorry!)

#naru #ask #thank youuuuuu<3 #mimble ur too kind to me

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nerdasaurus1200 · 3 years ago

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Some Elsa Padare ideas/anecdotes/retcons I've come with over the last month, and some I can't remember if I have or haven't talked about on here:

Elsa and Anna's last name is Oldenburg

The Oldenburgs used to be a tribe of vikings that were fascinated by magic. That's why they made their settlement (Arrendelle) so close to the enchanted forest. They even made a prophecy regarding Elsa and Anna

Ever since she was a kid, Elsa has always been fascinated by dragons

Anna has powers too. To compliment Elsa's power of ice and snow, Anna has the power of light and warmth

Kristoff meets Elsa and Sisu on the road and escorts them into Arrendelle

I plan to actually incorporate Elsa and Anna's Northuldra heritage and address the relationship that the Natturas have with them

Honeymaren and Ryder leave the Forest with Elsa and Sisu. So does Bruni

The Spirits have always been watching over Elsa and Anna ever since they were little. Gale and Bruni were "imaginary" playmates, while Nokk and the Giants were kinda like silent guardians

Iduna and Agnarr actually did meet Elsa once when she was a child. They visited Corona to discuss an alliance treaty and the Padares let them stay in their home. Needless to say, Cass was PISSED when she realized this

Cassandra always encouraged Elsa to be expressive with her powers, to the point where she showed her the Tower cove to use as a secret outlet spot

Elsa and co. stayed for a couple months on Berk on the way to Corona, because they got in a shipwreck and Elsa broke her leg

The Riders are convinced that Bruni is a new type of dragon and Sisu is an undiscovered dragon. Hiccup calls them the Firestarter and the Water Walker

Varian was always completely convinced that Bruni was only an imaginary friend, until Elsa came home with him

Bruni rides in a little pocket in Elsa's dress

Instead of red hair, Elsa dies her hair black. She's preferred to wear it short ever since an accident with Atlas and scissors when she was little

Elsa makes and gives Anna a hat before leaving Arrendelle

Anna goes to Ahtohallan with Elsa while Sisu stays to break the dam. Show Yourself turns into a duet

While Elsa is recovering from her leg on Berk, she and Hiccup slowly start to fall in love. Sisu is shipper trash in the background the entire time

Both Anna and Elsa get dragons. Anna gets a Singetail she calls Blaze and Elsa gets a Snow Wraith she calls Snowstorm

By the time Elsa finally gets home, Corona and Arrendelle are at war

A while after Elsa returns home, Hiccup and the Riders eventually follow her to Corona and Elsa convinces Cass and Varian to set up an arranged marriage between her and Hiccup, with Berk's army as a dowry. This is mostly so Cassandra doesn't go Moon Witch on Arrendelle

Elsa sings "Let it Go" while on Berk

I'm kinda toying with the idea of Anna and Hans expecting a baby (or engaged at the very least) by the time Elsa meets Anna

Elsa's palisman is a snow hare she calls Loki

Elsa has quite a few jobs in Corona. She is an engineer, architect, fashion designer, and a nurse as well as a member of the Sorcerer's Guild

Anna and Elsa have always been able to somewhat understand animals

Over the years, Elsa made a lot of snowmen besides Olaf and Marshmallow. Others include Svensen, Jensen, Jorgen, Fjorgen, Bjoergen, Gunthar, Gunnar, Diedrich, Friedrich, and Jose

#tts #rta #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #frozen #httyd #how to train your dragon #nerd talks #elsa padare au #elsa #anna #kristoff #bruni #varian #cassandra #hiccup haddock #hans of the southern isles #atlas

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screamingatanemptyroom · 5 years ago

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Please Fix the Story pt 2 - Zombie Apocalypse

Hey everyone, here is a continuation to the the fix it fic Reverse harem short story I posted a few days ago!

Part one linked here.

(FYI although it is a different world, the main character as well as Liam are the same people. As stated at the end of the first part, Liam cannot bring along any memories from prior worlds)

Enjoy!

__________________________

GRRRR!

I looked around at my surroundings as I arrived in the new world, trying to catch my bearings.

Broken down buildings, abandoned cars, no people around and zombies about to attack… yep, definitely a post-apocalyptic setting.

I was in the middle of a city road, surrounded on all sides by tall, buildings with shattered windows, exposed beams and hanging wires. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I felt the unsettling atmosphere slowly settle over me. There was a strange silence to the world, the absence of people talking, cars honking, electronics beeping. There was just the wind, my breathing and silence…

GRRR.

…and the growls of the twenty or so zombies slowly approaching me.

I climbed up on an abandoned car, trying to catch my bearings. The movement tore at the four or five wounds that were scattered over my body, forcing out a groan of pain.

Multiple bruises, possible broken ribs, several cuts to arms and legs that still have broken bits of glass in them… it’s like I’ve been in a bar brawl.

It was always frustrating before I could accept the memories of my character and the world setting. I had no idea where I was, how I had gotten here, and more importantly what my mission was.

First things first, I need something to defend myself with.To my pleasant surprise, a quick survey of the area revealed a backpack that looked full and a sword resting on the ground nearby.

I jumped down, biting my lip to hold back a cry of pain at the motion, and quickly pulled the backpack on, unsheathing the sword and looking at it. It looked like something out of a museum, with an ornate gold plated hilt and a long, slightly curved blade. The weight and length were just at the limit of what this current body could bear, and I gave the sword a few practice swings with a grin.

Wonder how my character got a hold of a sword… this body doesn’t seem like one that practices fencing.

Putting my questions out of my mind, I held up my sword, centering my thoughts and bringing my heart into focus, just as I had trained in the past.

Fortunately, one of the previous story worlds I had lived through since the day I woke up without memories had been an assassin novel. The mission had been difficult; protecting the assassin’s guild from destruction after the hero left them behind to chase the heroine on an adventure. The author had regretted destroying his beloved family and guild members, and abandoned the novel. So I was tasked with spending years training weapons skills in the group, finally fighting against the rogue gang that attacked and defending the hero’s family in his place. Completing that mission had taken seven years in total, but on the bright side I had gained a good amount of fighting experience.

I closed my hand over the familiar weight of a sword in my palm. Time to start a new world.At the thought I felt a pang of loneliness and couldn’t help but close my eyes and smile bitterly. How is it that I’ve spent years and years in some of these worlds, and they still didn’t manage to move my heart as much as four weeks spent in a silly high school romance novel world?

“Liam.” I whispered quietly, opening my eyes with a sigh. He had so easily bypassed my defenses, making me care about him to the point that I had hesitated about moving on to the next world.

I have to keep moving forward, it’s my only hope of recovering my memories and going home.

Grrrr.

Thinking about the world and people I had left behind had depressed my mood, but thankfully, an outlet for my emotions had just presented itself on a silver platter.

“Time for some emotional therapy… by killing zombies.” With a smile I put away all stray thoughts and feelings, suppressed any sensation of pain or fear. There was only me, my sword, and the targets to destroy.

I was ready.

Silent, I sprang forward, my sword raised.

My first slash cut off the nearest zombies arm, the sword slicing through the rotten meat and brittle bones with ease.

Thud.

The arm hit the ground with a dull sound. The zombie’s wide, lidless eyes stared down at the detached limb for a few moments, as if confused, before turning back towards me with renewed energy.

GRRR.

Right, undead. Cutting off limbs won’t do much. So let’s try decapitation.

Ducking under the zombie’s remaining arm, I straightened up behind the monster and aimed this time for the neck.

This time both head and body fell to the ground, and became still.

Success!

The rotten blood and flesh dripped onto my hand from the stained blade. Disgusted, I swung the sword back and forth, which only served to scatter the remnants in the air, releasing a horrific smell. I gagged, forcing myself to breathe through my mouth and leaping at the nearest zombie with a snarl.

“This is so gross!”

SLICE! Two zombies fell to the ground on either side of me.

“I hate this world so much!”

Swish! Slice! THUD!

“WHAT IF THERE’S NO RUNNING WATER AND I CAN’T SHOWER?!!!”

A zombie’s growl cut off suddenly as the head flew out into the distance.

“I don’t even know what the mission is, but it already SUCKS!”

Letting out my frustration, I took out the remaining zombies, standing in place in a puddle of goo, my breaths coming in an out with a harsh gasping sound as my out of shape body tried to catch up with the practiced movements I had just put it through. My heart beat rapidly in my chest, breathing caused sharp pains as my broken ribs protested and made their presence known.

I was injured, I was tired, and I was covered in zombie guts.

I want to go home.

But I didn’t know where home was.

Feeling sorry for myself, I sat down on the ground, pulling out my phone and checking the mission.

“This better be a quick one.”

As I pulled up the familiar screen the first thing I noticed was a notification.

**** CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE LEVELED UP!****

“… Pardon?”

As you continue to complete world missions in an efficient and satisfactory manner, you will gain experience and level up the mission system, allowing you additional benefits and assistance.

A small experience bar glowed at the bottom of the notification, with only a sliver of the space filled in and a large number “2” next to it.

“It took TWELVE worlds for me to get to level 2?!” I fought the desire to throw my phone with rage, and continued to read.

With your new level, you have unlocked key character descriptions and world map in the mission app! As well as… other benefits!

“…” I stared at the screen silently. Why do I feel like this thing is just messing with me now?I’m just going to ignore this. It’s too rage inducing.

I clicked through the message and moved on to the mission description.

**** NEW WORLD: WAR OF THE UNDEAD ****

This post-apocalyptic zombie infested story follows Eric, a young man with a military background and the will to fight as he survives the end of the world. By his side is the love of his life Hannah, who holds his hand through the uneasy tides of crumbling social structures, horrifying monsters and evil villains.

Complaints about the story were rampant as the heroine of the novel was deemed “useless” with no discernable skills, often getting kidnapped and wreaking havoc for Eric to clean up after. Unable to balance the two main leads, the author finally gave up and never finished the story, leading to the world’s instability and eventual destruction.

The Author’s wish, and your mission, consists of two parts: First, help the heroine develop into a well-rounded character, able to stand on her own two feet instead of a two dimensional plot device designed to give the hero problems to solve. Second, help humanity establish a good foundation for a new society, leaving the story on a high note with hope for defending against the zombies.

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION?****

I glared at my screen, desperately wishing for a “decline” option.

HELP HUMANITY ESTABLISH A FOUNDATION?!!! HOW LONG IS THAT GOING TO TAKE??

I let out a sad moan, leaning against the broken car and staring up at the dull grey sky with a hopeless gaze.

How long do I have to live in this world and go without a hot shower?

I clicked Accept, my finger stabbing the screen angrily, accomplishing nothing other than a sore fingertip. The memories of my character rushed in, the splitting pain and confusion passing quickly as I accepted them with ease.

“… Well, I guess it could be worse.”

I was a small side character in this story, the spoiled princess of the hero’s group that caused trouble. Upon joining up with their team, she would constantly complain, wishing for luxury and pampering in a world where survival was the only priority. She was tolerated as she had brought with her a large bag of supplies from her family’s mansion, as well as an antique sword that she had taken off the wall as she left, but the goodwill of the hero and his friends quickly ran dry in the face of her spoiled personality and increasingly ridiculous demands.

Finally after several years and multiple fights, her character was kidnapped along with Hannah, the heroine. The hero was forced to choose one to save, and selected his loved one without hesitation. Even at the end her character believed she was too important to be killed, threatening her captors right up until they threw her into a pit of zombies.

It seemed as if I had started this world right after my character had abandoned her first team. They had gotten into a fight with a roaming bandit group, (which explained my current injuries) during which my character had escaped, leaving her teammates behind.

As the story moved on she would then meet up with the hero and his camp, joining and staying alongside them until her untimely demise.

Unfortunately it looks like one of the hero’s companions was a friend of this character, which will make it difficult to explain the large difference in the personality… Rubbing my headthoughtfully as I considered the problem, I finally gave up and sighed. Oh well, the apocalypse changes people, they’ll just have to accept it.

The phone in my hand vibrated once more, with surprise I glanced down at the new alert.

With your level up, you are able to change your character’s name to one of your choosing. All characters’ memories will be adjusted accordingly.

**** Select a character name? ****

I struggled internally with a sudden childish desire to name my character “ass-licker” or something equally stupid, just for the chance to hear everyone have to say it seriously.

But if I was going to spend a few years in this world… that would get old fast.

I slowly typed out a name, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

“Blaire.”

My favorite world so far.A memory I wanted to keep with me.

I wonder what happened to Liam after I left? Before I could consider that thought too closely, a panicked scream broke the silence of the city.

“HELP!”

Following the distressed sounds, I entered a nearby building. In a large open area filled with broken concrete and other debris, a single young man was cornered by three zombies. He held a metal bar in his hands, which he was swinging wildly, barely keeping the monsters at bay. They were slowly crowding him into a corner, but seemed unable to reach any closer. The man continued swinging, all the while a constant stream of half-intelligible cursing and complaints escaping from his mouth.

“Damned traitor…. Make him regret… snap his neck… no that’s too good for him! … boiling… oil… funnel…!”

For all that this is a life threatening situation, why do I get the feeling he seems… like he’s having fun?

Shaking off the wayward thought, I rushed in, sword drawn, striking the zombies down with a few swings. As their heads tumbled to the ground, I kneeled down, using their shredded clothes to carefully clean the blade. As I looked up, I saw the startled face of the man I saved, and felt a moment of panic.

“Liam?”

After staring silently a few moments, I shook my head sadly

It wasn’t him.

He was older, taller, with a slimmer build. His hair, though a similar dark shade, was longer and roughly cut. His face was not the one in my memories, with a slimmer nose and a more pointed chin, but his eyes… they were the exact same shade of dark blue as Liam in the previous world. It was the eyes that had initially caused me to call out, the amused light in them so familiar it was as if he were still right in front of me.

But he wasn’t. I had left that world, and therefore Liam, behind.

“I’m sorry, I mistook you for someone else.”

The man shook his head, his face still pale with shock. “Don’t be sorry! You saved my life!” He walked forward, holding out a trembling hand to shake. “I’m so glad you showed up when you did!”

I took his hand, trying to smile comfortingly. “Happy to help. Are you going to be okay? How’d you end up here all alone?”

“I got separated from my… friends.” He looked at me closely. “You’re such a strong person, I would have died without you! I know I’m weaker than you, and might be a burden but… would you… be willing to let me tag along until we get to camp?”

Poor guy, he still looks terrified.I patted him on the shoulder. “Of course.”

He sighed with relief. “Thank you. You’re my hero!”

I laughed at that. “Just call me Blaire.”

“I’m William! But you can call me Liam.”

“Liam?” I paused, unable to hold back from asking. “I’m sorry… but… have we met before?”

“Hmm… Unfortunately no, I would have definitely remembered you. But perhaps we were fated to meet?” His eyes were clear as he spoke, without any recognition. I frowned.

It can’t be the same person… but he’s just as weird as Liam from the other world, that’s for sure. Unable to shake the sense of familiarity, I sheathed my sword and gestured for him to follow.

“Let’s go.”

“Of course, savior of my life! I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth!”

“… Just to the camp is fine.”

As we stepped out into the street we were immediately confronted by the sight of a large group of tough-looking, scarred men, each carrying multiple weapons. As I tensed up, my hand on my sword hilt, the closest man in the group spotted us, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“BOSS! You’re still alive!”

I glanced back at Liam, who looked mildly annoyed.

“Boss! We killed the traitor and brought back the weapons he stole from you!”

Tossing out a duffel bag, the zipper was open enough to spot multiple guns, grenades and other deadly weapons.

“…”

We all stared at the bag in silence for a few moments.

“Boss?” I finally asked.

He gave an awkward grin. “It’s just a friendly nickname.”

“So I’m guessing you won’t need my protection on the way to the nearest camp.” Feeling mildly disappointed, I stepped away, preparing to leave. Only to pause at Liam’s panicked shout.

“Wait, no!” He stepped closer, waving his arms frantically. “I definitely need your protection! These guys are just joking! I’m actually quite a weakling, and desperately need someone strong like you to look after me.”

“What are you saying boss?” One of the goons interrupted. “You’re probably the most deadly man alive…”

THUD

A stone flew through the air, striking the man between the eyes, and knocking him to the ground.

“Shut. Up.” Liam hissed,

“OUCH! That hurt!”

“Now you tell this beautiful woman who saved my life and has promised to protect me how weak and helpless I am!”

The large muscular men all turned towards me, terror in their eyes.

“Boss is the weakest!”

“Definitely weak!”

“He needs protection!”

“He’d die without you!”

“…” I gave Liam a look. Do you really think I’d buy this?

His response was a shameless smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t drag you down! I’ll cook for you!”

“…”

“Run errands!”

“…”

“Do housework!”

I finally spoke up. “Really? You’d do all that?”

“Yes, I…”

“You can’t expect the Boss to act like a servant!!” One of the men burst out angrily, only to fly back as another stone struck him in the face. Another burly, scarred thug took his place.

“Ahem. What my friend meant to say is, Boss is highly skilled in all of these tasks. He’s great husband material!”

Liam gave the man a thumbs up. “Shark, you’re a smart fellow. You’ve just been promoted to my new right hand man!”

“Thanks Boss!”

“Now take care of things while my life savior and hopefully future wife escorts me back!” He grabbed the duffel bag, offering the contents to me before choosing a small handgun and a grenade for himself and handing the rest to Shark.

The man took the remaining weapons with a terrifying smile. “Definitely!” With a sharp whistle, he and the other men quickly turned around and ran away, dragging the injured man who had protested Liam taking on cleaning duties behind them.

“…” I watched this all with confusion. How did the title of future wife get added on to a simple request to escort him to camp?I almost told him to go away, but hesitated. Faced with his almost puppy-like look of anticipation I swallowed the words I was about to say, helplessly turning back in the direction of the hero’s camp. “Let’s go.”

__________________________

We traveled together for a few days, and I found Liam to be an entertaining companion. At each stop he would light a fire, cook a meal, and arrange the camp. Any offers to help were met with stiff resistance.

“You’re the one doing me the favor.” He answered once with a smile. “I’m just trying to support you!”

“…”

“You know…” He added nervously. “If you think that I’m useful… I’d be happy to work for you full time in exchange for your protection.”

“…”

“For example, if we got married it would be super convenient to bring me along as your support husband.”

I sighed quietly, rubbing my head. “You know we’ve only known each other three days right?”

“The great thing about that concern is that it becomes less relevant the longer we’re together!” He grinned briefly, before putting on a serious expression.

“You asked me once if we met before… and even though I know we haven’t I can’t shake the feeling that I know you. As if there’s a voice shouting from the depths of my soul, telling me that if I lose you I’ll regret it forever, but if I can stay by your side I’ll be the happiest man alive.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head. He reminds me so much of Liam spouting his minion nonsense. But if he’s the same person… how did he follow me here?

“By the way… if you thought that sounded poetic, I would like to add ‘well-spoken’ and ‘artistic’ to the lists of attractive traits that I bring to the table as a potential husband or even just a good lackey.”

“…” Let’s just ignore him and get to camp as soon as possible.

__________________________

We arrived at the camp. Fortunately our path had been fairly clear, we met very few zombies on our way. As we walked up to the camp entrance, and attractive man and woman met us, their expressions somewhat guarded.

“Who are you and why are you here?” The man called out.

I paused a good distance away to avoid seeming to threatening, and studied him closely. He looked to be in his mid twenties, with close-cropped hair and classically handsome features. He had a gun at his hip, and a knife close to his hand, obviously ready to respond to any danger.

Smells like a male lead.

I held up my hands, showing that they were empty of weapons and tried to appear friendly.

“I’m Blaire. I’ve recently split from another roaming group and was hoping to join your camp here.” I carefully put my backpack of supplies on the ground and opened it, showing off the contents. “I’ll share some of my supplies. I’m also decent with a sword, and can add to your fighting force.”

The man looked both me and the bag over carefully. “I’m Eric.” He finally spoke up, his expression slightly more relaxed. He pointed at Liam who still stood next to me. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Liam, her lackey!” He announced before I could say something. “Also hopeful suitor.”

“Are you joining as well?”

“Of course!”

I glanced over at him. “What about your gang?”

“What gang?”

“…”

“… Those punks you met earlier? They’ll be fine.”

I sighed and turned back towards the hero of the story. “So what’s your answer?”

He watched us both, obviously thinking carefully. “On a trial basis.” He turned around, carefully protecting the delicate young woman next to him. She was petite, barely coming up to Eric’s shoulder, and had a fair complexion already turning red in the sun. Her eyes were large with an innocent light in them, as she stared at me with a nervous look.

This must be Hannah, our heroine. She definitely seems… easy to kidnap. So helping her become a well-rounded character is mission number one, huh? I followed behind them, my mind racing with plans to help turn her into a force to be reckoned with in this post-apocalyptic wasteland.

This is going to be fun!I rubbed my hands together, a villainous laugh escaping me.

Liam poked my arm, whispering. “Blaire, although I personally think your evil laugh is wonderful, and I could listen to it all day… I feel like I should warn you that you’re scaring the young girl over there.”

I paused, catching Hannah’s terrified expression, and tried to give her a reassuring smile. In response her face turned even more pale under her sunburn, and she hugged Eric tightly as if wanting to escape.

“Was my smile that terrifying?” I leaned over towards Liam and asked quietly.

“I’m the wrong person to ask. I find your strength and ability to intimidate the masses vastly reassuring.”

“Thanks… I guess.”

I followed the lead characters into the camp silently, Liam following close behind me.

It was time to save the story.

And… hopefully find a way to shower.

#writing #fantasy #world hopping #zombies #violence

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cynical-roll · 4 years ago

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My sister bought a pop socket for her phone today, but she didn't like it so she gave it to me instead and OH MY GOD. GAME CHANGER! I'd been debating getting one for a while, and now I'm wondering why I didn't get one sooner. I have a longer/taller phone so having something to hold it with means I don't have to worry about dropping it as much, and it's really comfy to hold in either hand. I bought a stand for my phone a couple weeks ago and the base doesn't work great on slanted surfaces, but the pop socket does so double win!

Also, it works great as a stim. I've always thought having a stim would help me (I've never got any because I know people would think it weird/childish for me) because I have a lot of nervous energy and tend to fidget/play with my hands/clothes/hair etc, so the fact that it pops in and out on two levels and the top spins round is a really good outlet for me.

I redecorated it (UA high logo from My Hero Academia, if anyone doesn't know) because it's a glittery marble design, which isn't my thing, and I have so. many. ideas for more. Marvel (SHIELD logo, Spiderman, Cap's shield, Bucky's star etc.), Skyrim logo, Genshin Impact geo sigil, Fairy Tail guild tattoo, Kaneki's mask, FGO Chaldea symbol, etc. etc etc.

yes I'm a weeb, sue me and yes that's Giyu Tomioka's haori pattern on my phone case, which I also made myself. I also made an MHA phone case when I should have been doing uni work

As you can tell, it doesn't take much to amuse me

#phone #mobile phone #pop socket #mha #my hero academia #phone case #anime #why didnt i get this sooner??

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mtgbracket · 4 years ago

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Tiebreaker - Tuktuk the Explorer vs Blim, Comedic Genius

Hi folks! Today’s results included our second win, with these two red cards fetching 152 votes each in Batch 2.16. As always, I don’t vote in the daily batches just in case.

As a reminder, the format is:

- Quality of design, scored out of 10 - Power level, scored out of 5 (overpowered cards will score lower) - Flavour, scored out of 5 - Art, scored out of 5 (taking the best of multiple arts if relevant) - Place in Magic history, scored out of 5

Here we go!

Tuktuk the Explorer

Design

Tuktuk is a simple concept - an understated creature which promises a reward if you can kill him off. The reward is pretty simple - a 5/5 custom token - but the card itself leaves it open-ended how you are going to get there. Unlike some other similar cards, Tuktuk can block, so there’s an easy option for you there, although that does make the card an oddly out-of-feel defensive red card. Otherwise you can pair Tuktuk with sacrifice outlets for a nice, direct reward. He also somewhat randomly has haste, which doesn’t add a whole bunch to the design as he’s not a compelling attacker.

Overall, I am not a massive fan of this design - it’s simple but not hugely elegant or compelling. While getting a 5/5 for three mana feels like cheating, getting a 1/1 for three feels like getting cheated, and it’s not overall an enticing or exciting design.

Power level

Tuktuk is a fairly lacklustre card for a Legend, with a decent reward but no other immediate benefit. Even the token is just power and toughness. As you would expect he has a low EDHREC rank, at #1094 as a Commander and in 0% (rounded) of red decks.

Flavour

Tuktuk is a historically notably Zendikari Goblin, having gotten killed by an Eldrazi trap only to have his body replaced with rocks. This story is well told by the design, as his token is both an artifact creature and a Goblin Golem. His own flavour text, identical in all printings, provides a little bit of world building explaining what happened to Tuktuk and his subsequent impact on the clan of Goblins that took his name and followed his teachings to destroy and eat hedrons and other rocks - until he was killed by Zada, who took his teachings a little too far. The idea of a reckless Goblin adventurer getting caught up in a deadly trap is very in the spirit of the Zendikar setting.

Art

Volkan Baga’s orange and red colour palette is lovely, and there’s some nice work with the lighting that draws your attention first to Tuktuk’s face and curiously reaching hand, then across to the intriguing runed surface of the hedron. The lighting is even diegetic to the illustration, coming from the torch in Tuktuk’s other hand. There are also lots of nice touches to Tuktuk’s outfit, the background stonework, and so forth.

Seeing as the token exists only for this card, I will consider it lightly. Franz Vohwinkel’s piece seems to show Tuktuk returning from the same cave - with an orange backlight and some rocks. Some intimidated goblins crowd around his feet, showing how his experience quickly propelled him to power. Tuktuk himself is a fairly generic floating rock monster, which we’ve seen many times over, but with some neat hedron markings mixed in.

Place in Magic history

Tuktuk is the namesake of his own clan, seen on a couple of other cards such as Tuktuk Rubblefort. He appears in some stories but his card and character don’t have any other strong place.

Blim, Comedic Genius

Design

Blim is a bit of an oddball. He’s a pretty efficient flyer for his cost, with a seriously odd ability. He must donate your permanents on hitting, and then has a symmetrical trigger based on how many permanents are controlled but not owned by each player. It’s a clunky wording (necessarily so to make it work), but has some subtle touches - for example, seeing as Blim is designed for Commander Legends limited, his trigger catches each player, not just the one he hits, so that you can continue to punish people for the gifts he’s given on previous attacks even when attacking a different opponent. There’s also a nice side-effect of punishing anybody playing Mind Control effects on top of the inbuilt donation effect.

Blim is also something that many players wanted for a long while - a black-aligned card similar to Zedruu, allowing you to give away some of black’s many downside cards. Because of the power of giving away cards like Demonic Pact, he’s not as easy to use as Zedruu, but the power is still there.

Overall, we have a card that’s doing quite a lot on a technical level, but through a bit of an awkward and clunky wording.

Power level

Blim, like many of the 73 new Legends in Commander Legends, has to serve two masters - the needs of the CMR draft format, and taking a swing at the wider Commander format. Blim manages that reasonably well, unlike many of the others, by taking a unique ability to donate your permanents. This means he’s done pretty well for popularity as a new card, but more by being unique than by being overpowering - he’s currently at #493 on EDHREC as a Commander, although also in 0% (rounded) of black-red decks.

Flavour

Blim is a brand new character to CMR, and his fairly lengthy rules text means we don’t get any flavour text. He doesn’t have any other story appearances, just a couple of paragraphs in this infodump article. He’s flavoured to fit the Rakdos comedy-circus-slash-violence flavour, which has developed over the years since the original Ravnica; the guild started with no clear role in the Ravnican society, but has steadily adopted a sort of “official counter-culture” role. The name is a bit silly-sounding, if appropriate for an imp, but the design doesn’t really connect to the mechanics especially. Admittedly this is a difficult text box to find a flavour connection for, but dark / violent comedy isn’t really it.

Art

Jason A Engle’s piece certainly gets the Rakdos feel across, with a terrifying black-red fiery imp character taking up the foreground and a selection of spiky gear, chains, fabrics and more in the background - he’s clearly in the Rakdos performance line. The “comedian” aspect isn’t really made clear, and the largely flavourless text box of course can’t really be depicted either. But I am a big fan of the colours and the fade between the reddish orange at the top and the darker, almost black at the bottom. The funky body proportions of Blim, with his oversized head, is a little funny, but the horns are funky.

Place in Magic history

None to speak of.

Final verdict

Tuktuk the Explorer

Design - 5/10 Power level - 2/5 Flavour - 3/5 Art - 4/5 Place in Magic history - 3/5 TOTAL - 17/30

Blim, Comedic Genius

Design - 6/10 Power level - 3/5 Flavour - 2/5 Art - 3/5 Place in Magic history - 2/5 TOTAL - 16/30

It was close even in the scores, but by an edge I give it to Tuktuk the Explorer! He will join the Top 256 which will begin on Monday. Come back tomorrow for some stats and facts!

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