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tasavvur-e-jaana · 1 year ago

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Pehli si Mohabbat

In lieu of all my works lost, I am reposting all my RRR fics here. Again. This series is a 10 part story centred around our protagonists and classical music and ghazals (my inspiration to write), a fanfic of a fanfic really.

This was the first thing I ever wrote for the fandom and even though I am a dormant admirer, loving the characters from the sidewalk, here you go.

P.s. The characters are not mine, they are entirely credited to Mr. Rajamouli and I am just borrowing them, one fanfic writer to another really. And yeah, the usual disclaimer... bla bla bla... you all know by now how it goes.

The fic is unbeta'd and I own my mistakes like Ram.

Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1: Yaad Piya ki Aaye

“Yaad piya ki aaye…”

The sweet melody of the traditional thumri was wafting in the air, mingling with the buzz in the street of purani Dilli even close to eleven at night. The shops had closed and the porches were now filled by the food stalls and hawkers selling various delicacies that were the highlight of the city’s flavours. The aroma of chole, kulche, kebabs, nihari, biryanis, paratha and what not was ready to attack and entice one’s appetite on just entering the gali. The street was lit with lanterns that lent a rustic glow to the entire surrounding and one could see why Ghalib had fallen in love with the city, especially the nightlife of it.

A man clad in white pyjamas and light blue solid patterned kurta walked through the humdrum of the streets. He seemed to be in a hurry to reach somewhere, not at all pausing or even glancing at the vendors or people on the way, his legs falling in determined steps as he almost was going to burst into a sprint anytime soon. A small albeit sad smile involuntarily graced his lips as soon as he heard the thumri before he saw the house from whose window the melodious tune was emanating. The structure was modest, with old but sturdy construction and the said man did not knock before he opened the wooden door noiselessly to enter.

The scene that greeted Akhtar was this as soon as he crossed the dehliz of the house and closed the door even more slightly than before. Unsurprisingly there were books strewn everywhere, meaning literally everywhere with barely any space to walk on the floor. The furniture comprised of an ordinary table, a chair and a bed that could be called a four poster if we were being too generous, wide enough of a full grown man if not more. But amongst all the clutter there were two things that were absolutely Akhtar’s favourites. One, the gramophone that oozed the beautiful and heartfelt tunes and the other was a recliner wooden chair on which lay Ram, the third and the most favourite entity of Akhtar’s life.

The said man was relaxing on the chair (or the version of relaxation that Ram did) and was almost asleep as he had not noticed Akhtar enter. His eyes were closed, one hand resting on his stomach which was moving lazily as he breathed. His other hand was laying casually on the handle of the chair, lithe fingers moving gently with the tune playing. He would look younger than he was only if his brows would not have been furrowed, forehead creased and slightly tensed shoulders that carried the weight of the world on them even when he was not working. Akhtar winced internally at this observation on top of feeling guilty at being late for the dinner.

He wanted to give as much less worry that he could manage to his… no, not his. To Ram. For a few days now, he had started calling him Ram in his head instead of anna or bhai or bhaiya due to a reason that he’d locked so far down in his heart that he wouldn’t touch it with a 100 foot pole. As he stood there openly gawking at the man in question, because such instances where he could just observe the other were too rare and too precious for him to let go of. How he wanted to shake Ram and get him to confess what was always troubling him? What guilt did he carry in his heart that had travelled to his beautiful face and had permanently etched a frown on those lush lips. He wanted to shout at him until he cracked and shared all his worries with Bheem. Bheem. How he himself wished he could tell Ram his real name so that Ram would not call him by the false identity that he’d donned. Bheem spent too much time thinking about how it would sound from Ram’s mouth.

Yet he never asked for Ram to spill his heart out and share his burdens because he could never share his own secret with Ram. That would be sheer hypocrisy. But Bheem already was a hypocrite wasn’t he? The whole coming to Delhi to rescue Malli was like walking on a double edged sword that was kept on the fire that was sure to burn Bheem alive. A creaking noise of the wood and a soft, sleep ridden voice brought Bheem back to the present from his reverie.

“Akhtar! Akhtar!?” a snap of fingers in front of his face had Bheem startled. Oh, right. Ram had woken up. How long had he been standing there? Anyway, he shook his head internally, putting on a blinding smile that was partly genuine- because how can it not be when Ram was there? And that too looking at him amusingly with that glint in his eye?

“Han!” (Yes.) Well, time to be Akhtar again.

“Kin khayalon mein khoye huye the?” (What were you thinking?) Ram asked, eyes still twinkling as he added. “Ya phir kis ke khayalon mein khoye huye the ye poochhna chahiye?” (Or should I ask whose thoughts were you lost in?)

A sudden and unwanted blush crept up Akhtar’s face at the question. He jerked away from Ram’s intense gaze as he replied unconvincingly, “Kuchh bhi toh nahi, anna.” (Nothing, Anna) oh, how he hated that word now.

“Kyon bachchu? Mujhse se jhoot bologe? Tumhari aankhein bata rahi hai k koi hai.” (Will you lie to me? Your eyes reveal more than you know.) If Akhtar had not been persistently boring a hole in his chappals, he would have noticed that even though Ram was teasing, the smirk did not reach his eyes.

“Meri chhodo. Apni baat karo na. Wo main nahi jo bhaabhi ki yaad mein saare din virah ke geet sunta rehta hoon.” (Leave me be. Let's talk about you. I'm not the one who's listening to sad songs remembering Sita) Akhtar retorted with his own jibe. Now it was Ram’s turn to flush; that’ll show him, thought the younger man triumphantly.

“Ye behad khoobsurat thumri hai. Aur main dusre ras ke gaane bhi sunta hoon.” (This song is a classic. And I listen to other types of songs.) Ram defended himself as he shifted on his feet; how could he ever tell his friend that the song did not remind him of Sita. It had never reminded him of anyone until he met the gorgeous, wide eyed man standing in front of him that commanded all his thought recently. He turned toward the kitchen to get their food ready. Because, let’s face it, if they would spiral into one of their classic playful bickerings, they’d be standing in the middle of the room like a couple of morons for the whole night. And also, he knew Akhtar would be starving.

“Tum baitho main khana lagaata hoon.” (You wait I'll bring the food.) Just as Ram took one step forward, the record whizzed and stopped. Before he could go and flip it over, Akhtar beat him to it, starting a new song. Unfortunately, the record player was not on Ram’s side as the second song that started playing turned out to be another thumri in the same ras.

Akhtar looked at him knowingly as the words formed in vilambit laya (slow tune) setting the base of the song that went “Kaa karun sajni… aaye na balam”

“Dekha? Main na kehta tha?” (See? I know you too well.) Akhtar chuckled at a slightly peeved Ram, who had been betrayed by his own gramophone’s timings. And just to rile him up further, Akhtar added, “Agar aapke paas koi khushnuma kism ke gaane ho, to woh lagaate hain.”, (If you have some happy and fun songs, let's play those.) and started to remove the pin from the record to stop the song.

Ram lunged at him with catlike reflexes, catching Akhtar’s extended arm in his own hand. “Nahi. Rehne do na ise. Ise beech mein badlna matlab sangeet ki tauheen karna.” (No. Let this one play. To stop this song in the middle will be an insult to music.)

“Achcha, to iske baad lagaate hain.” (Fine. Then after this one.)

“Thik hai.” (Ok.) Ram acquiciesed, not letting go of Akhtar’s arm.

They both looked at each other, Ram feeling butterflies in his stomach as Akhtar beamed at him on getting his way. A moment and more passed as they stood in that position, Ram not letting go of Akhtar’s arm, growing more aware of it by the second. Akhtar’s arm feels warm on his skin, touch tingling to his very core. Ram was not aware how touch starved he was until this hurricane of a man entered his life and uprooted everything. He left Ram with a clean slate on which he could rewrite his emotions and beliefs. He loosened Ram in a way that no one else could. After the death of his family, Ram was alive but had not been living. He was but only a weapon seeking revenge and destruction of the Empire.

And Akhtar- that curly haired menace had thoroughly made a permanent residence in Ram’s heart in no time. He was like a hot cup of sweet chai on a rainy day that lifted up Ram’s spirits at any point of time with his mere presence in Ram’s vicinity. All the little touches that he bestowed freely on Ram were akin to a salve soothing his wounds from the inside, healing little by little with each pat on the back, held hands, tight hugs, casual arm around shoulder. Ram always gravitated toward it, seldom initiating the contact himself. But Akhtar never seemed to notice or if he did, he didn’t mind. Ram was so engrossed in his thoughts that he missed the loud growl the younger man’s stomach let out.

“Anna…” a voice seemed to call him. “Ram!” the voice called out loud. Ram jolted back to find himself in front of his friend who was calling him. “Um…” Akhtar seemed…flustered? Clearing his throat, the other man spoke sheepishly. “My hand…”. Ram dropped it and ran as fast as he could in the kitchen leaving an equally crimson Akhtar behind.

Akhtar went into the kitchen after gathering his wits about himself. Ram was preparing two plates, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. Akhtar stopped short of entering, entranced by the beauty that Ram oozed doing such a simple chore. He admonished himself, chastising internally- he needed to work harder controlling his emotions in front of Ram. It would not be appropriate if Ram found out about it. Taking a deep breath, Akhtar masked his emotions lest they spill out at some very inopportune moment.

“Kya bana hai khane mein aaj? Pet mein chuhe nahi ab to haathi daud rahe hain.” (What’s for dinner? I am starving like anything.) He asked even though he saw the plate was filled with his favourite biryani. Ram was now filling the bowls with raita as he answered. “Tumhari manpasand cheez.” (It’s your favourite) Ram handed over Akhtar’s plate to the younger man, following him out in the room with his own.

They both settled on the chairs by the table plate in hand as the table too was fully cluttered with papers, books and miscellaneous paraphernalia. Akhtar had once made the mistake of setting things straight on the table so it would look a bit organized and Ram had thrown a fit like a child. No Akhtar! What are you doing? Everything is just as I want it to be. Don’t disarragne it! That was the first and last time Akhtar dared touch to oragnize things for Ram.

Ram let out a soft chuckle as Akhtar dug into his biryani like a man starved and let out an indecent moan. Ram gulped down air as his throat went dry suddenly. Frankly, Akhtar should be arrested for public indecency and more so for making Ram melt into a puddle of mush. The older man resorted to small talk to divert his focus onto something else. “Aaj aane mein der kaise hui? Kab se intezaar tha tumhara…”, (Why so late today? You were being waited for a long time by…) he paused, only for the curly haired man to look at him with such fondness and a little sorrow. Mujhe. (Me.) Ram wanted to say, instead he blurted out a little too loud, “Biryani ko.” (Biryani) He really was such an emotion stunted person! It was perfectly fine telling a friend that I’d been waiting for you, right? Right? Ram face-palmed himself internally.

Akhtar, on the other hand, went completely still, the biryani forgotten for a moment at the pregnant pause Ram took. His heart was racing million miles a minute as if it would just jump out and land at Ram’s feet in benediction. The way Ram was looking at him, Akhtar, just for a second dared to imagine he saw the same emotion in Ram’s eyes as his own. But how could it be? Ram thought of him as a little brother, a friend. He was only reflecting his own sentiments, an illusion that his vulnerable heart created for his mind. He shook it off, a bit disappointed and also relieved when Ram ended the sentence with a joke. Of course it was a jest. A slight admonishment at Akhtar being late, because Ram was too gentle and sweet to actually get angry at him even if he was upset.

“Maaf karna, anna. Aaj bahot zyada kaam aa gaya tha achanak se. Uss silsile mein waqt ka taqaazaa hi nahi raha. Par aap to kha lete na! Kyon mere liye…” (Sorry, anna. There was a sudden repair to be done and I lost the sense of time. But you could have eaten. Why wait for me?) his eyes were too sincere as his voice was laced with guilt.

Ram couldn’t take that. Someone like Akhtar should not be upset for such a trivial thing. He shouldn’t be upset ever. “Akhtar,” he cut in, “Koi baat nahi. Aur daawat maine di hai. Tumhare bina kaise shuru kar sakta hoon?” (It’s no big deal. And it was my invitation. How could I start without you?) Ram smiled in reassurance, hoping to get his message to the other.

“Kya aap bhi! Apne hi ghar mein koi nyota hota hai bhala?” (What are you saying? Does one need an invitation in his own home?) Ram smiled wider at this, making Akhtar’s heart do somersaults in his chest. “Achchha chalo ab khao, warna fir se thandi ho jayegi.” (Fine. Now eat before it gets cold again and I have to reheat it.) Ram started working on his plate, urging the younger man to do the same. Both shifted to lighter banter after that, enjoying the food, the music and most importantly, the company.

The song slowly faded into silence as they finished up with dinner. Akhtar finally dragged Ram to his record collection in search of a song with faster beats and happy tone. “Chalo na! Pehle gaana dhoondho. Fir baki sab thik karenge. Aur mujhe shart bhi to jeetni hai!” (Come no! First let’s pick the song. Then we’ll clean up. And I have to win the bet too.)

“Maine koi shart toh nahi lagayi thi.” (I did not wager anything.) Ram said as he started shuffling the record collection, narrating the names of the songs to Akhtar for him to choose.

“Han toh ab lagaate hain. Agar main jeet gaya toh kya milega?” (Then let’s do it now. What will I get if I win?) Akhtar raised an eyebrow.

They had already gone though a few records without any luck: they’d all turned out to be gambhir ras raag or ghazals. Akhtar was preening in confidence and Ram really didn’t want to lose now.

“Nahi. Main bachchon jaise shart nahi lagaata.” (Look, I’m not wagering some stupid bet, ok?)

“Kyon darr gaye?” (Why? Afraid you’ll lose?)

“Ismein darne wali koi baat hi nahi.” (There’s nothing to be afraid of.)

“Toh phir lagao shart.” (Then let’s bet!) Akhtar extended his hand, baiting Ram. Ram shook it, “Lagi shart.” (Done.) And started digging through more of the vinyls. While searching, Ram found a disc with the song that he hadn’t heard in a while. It was one of his favourite ghazals. A beautiful poem and even better composition.

“Aha! Mil gayi. Akhtar ye ghazal toh sunni hi hogi!” (Yes! Here it is. Akhtar, you have to listen to this ghazal.) He held out the disc for Akhtar to drop in the gramophone.

“Kaunsi hai yeh?” (Which one is it?) Akhtar fixed it in the instrument, putting the pin in for it to play.

“Tum khud hi suno. Aur shart haar gaye ho tum.” (You’ll know when it plays. And yeah, you lost.) Ram declared with triumph.

Akhtar refused to back down as the tune started with a slow rhythm of the tanpura. He was confident that Ram’s definition of a fun song would be still a slow one. Then the words started flowing, making Akhtar more confident of the genre of the ghazal. It went- Mujhse pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na maang…

He had heard this one before, it was one of the favourites of his abbajaan, the benevolent man at whose place he was staying. “Nahi nahi! Ye nahi chalega. Ye bhi dukh bhari ghazal hi hai. Main waqif hoon iss se.” (No! No! This is not done. This is also laden with sorrow. I know this one.)

“Par tumne kaha tha k mere paas virah ras k siva aur koi sangeet hi nahi hai! Ismein to desh bhakti ka tawajjuh hai. Shayar apne mulk se mohabbat ki baat kar raha hai!” (But you said I would not have songs apart from virah (separation from the beloved) ras. But this is about patriotism. The poet is talking about the love for his country.)

“Ho sakta hai, par wo keh to apne firdaus se hi raha hai na? Aur phir baat ismein bhi mulk se judaa hone ki hi hai!” (Maybe. But he’s conveying this to one of his lovers only. And also, there is the point where the poet yearns for his country.) Akhtar argued his point.

“Ye bhi ek soch hai par mulk se ishq aur insaan se ishq alag hai.” (This is one perspective toward it. But loving one’s motherland and loving a person is different.)

“Pata nahi. Shayad. Mere liye to ishq ishq hai. Chahe kisi se bhi ho. Pyaar mein koi alag mayne thoda hi hote hain? Dard bhi wahi hai, ranj bhi wahi, hijr bhi wahi aur vasl bhi wahi hai na? Par main toh itna padha likha nahi hun, main kya jaanu?” (I don’t know. Maybe. But for me love is love. Whoever there may be on the other end. How can you set boundaries for love? Pain is the same, distress is the same, woe of separation hits the same and the joy of reunion is the same. But I’m not a scholar, so what do I know?) His voice trailed into a soft whisper as he said the last sentence. Akhtar was afraid to look at Ram now, thinking he had crossed a line.

Ram took a step closer. They already were in close quarters riffing through the music, and that step landed Ram closer still. Akhtar could feel the heat of the other’s body, his breath on his cheeks as he spoke tenderly. “Akhtar, meri taraf dekho.” (Akhtar, look at me.) Akhtar shook his head slightly, shutting his eyes with embarrassment.

“Akhtar,” Ram repeated a bit more commandingly this time. Akhtar lifted his head, still not looking at Ram, his gaze fixed somewhere over the older man’s shoulder. Ram held his jaw with a featherlike touch to tilt his face to himself. His hand did not leave as he uttered the next words. “Kabhi apne aap ko anpadh bol kar khud ko neecha mat dikhana. Ek taraf tum itni gehri baat karte ho aur dusri taraf tum ye soch bhi kaise sakte ho? Tumse zyada samajhdaar, hoshiyaar aur kaabil insaan maine nahi dekha. Aur main ye tumhari khushaamad nahi kar raha, na to tumhe achchha lage isliye keh raha hoon. Main ye isiliye keh raha hoon kyon ki ye sach hai.” (Never think of yourself as lesser. On one hand you say something so profound and on the other hand you belittle yourself? I have not met anyone who is more smart, understanding and caring than you. And I’m not saying this to lift your spirits or to flatter you. I’m saying this because it is the truth.)

Bheem felt his vision go blurry and wetness on his cheeks as Ram proceeded with his speech. And as Ram cupped his face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs, did Bheem realise he was actually crying. He held Ram’s wrists with both his hands as he shut his eyes to stop tears from flowing. What had happened to him? Sure, he was an emotional person, a bit too emotional as the elders in his tribe commented, feeling everything all at once. But he had learnt how to mask his feelings after coming to Delhi. He was here on a mission and the only time he had allowed himself to be emotionally vulnerable was when he went to the forest, be it for a walk or a hunt. When he would be alone.

Tears in Akhtar’s eyes were a new sight for Ram altogether and it split his heart into a million pieces to see the man cry at genuine compliments. Had no one ever told him how precious he was? How beautiful? How smart, intelligent, selfless and pure he was? Did the ever smiling, ever happy and optimist Akhtar think this about himself? This would not do. Ram would spend every moment that he got in the other’s company to make him believe otherwise. What Ram did next surprised him as well.

He lifted Akhtar’s head a little, thumbs rubbing under his eyes until he opened them, the honey dipped orbs that somehow held Ram’s universe in them. Ram wanted to drown in them. Forever. And forget the rest of the world, all the responsibilities and burdens and challenges. Ram was aware how close they were and how intimate the position was, their breaths mingling as time stretched in an eternity in that moment. But it was as if he was floating somewhere above his body, looking at the two of them suspended in their own personal bubble. He closed his eyes, raising his head and pressed his lips to Akhtar’s forehead, conveying everything he felt in that fleeting kiss.

“Anna…” Akhtar whimpered with so much love and reverence but the word still sounded hollow to him as he sunk himself in the older man’s embrace, burrowing his face in the other’s shoulders. Maybe, Ram heard the hollowness too as he engulfed Akhtar in his arms. “Mujhe mere naam se pukaaro na Akhtar.” (Call me by my name, Akhtar.) he pleaded.

“Ram..”, the muffled voice in Ram’s shirt was the sweetest sound in the room as the gramophone whirred in the back, effectively ending the song.

Chapter 2.

A/N: Please please let me know how you liked it or didn't like it...

Also, I do apologise for the Hindi/Urdu dialogues but that's the language i thought in for the songs and the Delhi backdrop. And I'm sorry that the translation of the ghazal is not mentioned in the fic but I'll attach a link with the video.

P.s. for the ghazal nerds, the ghazal was written by the great Faiz Ahmad Faiz sahab (1911-1984) and it might not have been exactly written in 1920s. It was around the time of partition and was written in the form of a revolt poem against the government and his love for the country (India and Pakistan). But I've taken artistic liberty here so I hope that's okay. The ghazal has a very rich history in Urdu literature and it is absolutely my favourite.

P.P.s: I also have lost my taglist- and somehow am not exactly keen to make one without request. So lmk if you want the notifications. Or just keep tuned to this blog.

#rrr #doodles fics #rrr fics #long series #pehli si mohabbat #rrr movie #ram rrr #bheem rrr #rambheem #classical music #indian classical music #rrr fandom #wip

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charcherry-weekly · 3 months ago

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Charcherry Weekly - Issue 213

Hello everyone, Mage of Light Nick Card here. After a cool streak, its back to being hot again. Back to school is approaching and I can only hope these kids have proper transportation in time.

Since the incident at

The Archives,

there have been heightened concerns about the safety of The Railway, particularly from its workers. As a result, the workers of the Railway called for a strike.

Slowly but surely over the course of the week, stops and lines gradually went offline over the course of the week. Even the Ancient Quarry battle subway carriage joined the picket line! (I do wonder if it houses a rotom or something...)

This came to a head on thursday, when even the DTA lines began to go down in solidarity with the strikers, to the point that a number of DTA-funded assets were reverted to their initial state (particularly Charcherry North and The Park, the latter of which was no longer even open to the public due to past incident). The Railway Board then blamed the DTA for allegedly causing everything, which was the final straw.

It was only once all known lines went offline that a team could be assembled to negotiate with The Board in charge of The Railway. The team included Desertian President Witch of Time Katyleen "The Wolf" Kitten, Train driver Skye, as well as Winged Maid of Void Skye Macdonald, Desertian Government Union Steward Electrolis, Railway Union representative Jacob Richards, Your dear newsletter writer, and two private individuals, one of which was there at the request of the Queen of Air and Darkness Mab of the Winter court of the Fae. Train Driver Skye drove the party there in a void bus, to a void-y version of Milton Keynes in the middle of nowhere, only encountering a single (un)identifiable entity on the way there. Fortunately, Train driver Skye is also an excellent bus driver.

Eventually, the party arrived at the building where The Board resided. It was as if nobody had bothered to pay any of the bills for it ever. We entered the cold and dark building, finding great difficulty in ascending, due to the non-working elevator, as well as the rusted, locked, and blocked door to the stairs. Eventually, we managed to find a way to the stairs and begun climbing. It felt like it had taken forever. It was near the top that we met up with one of the private individuals, having been summoned by Winged Maid of Void Skye. We continued towards the top, where a monument to The Railway's progress and The Board's failures awaited us. We gazed upon it for a moment, preparing to enter

The Boardroom.

With confidence despite the darkness, we faced The Board together. The members of the Board introduced themselves as Jill Parsons, Jack Ford, and Dick Beeching. Katie had clearly done her homework, because she squarely schooled them on various topical incidents. Meanwhile, RWU rep. Jacob presented an absolute laundry list of every trial run that was determined a failure but was ignored by those in power. This caused The Board members to snap back, but your dear newsletter writer managed to say just the right thing to stop them in their tracks. By the grace of the Light that I am purview to, I revealed that they had in fact looked at the reports and ignored their warnings, with the intention to blame eachother to try and get out of harm's way. It managed to be so accurate that they instantly gave up and listened to our demands. It was also determined that The Board members weren't even among the living--they were a conglomerate of british rail spirits, comprised of all the grief of the Railway's past failures.

Determining that they no longer held any power over the Railway any longer, the party considered what to do with The Board. Eventually, it was decided that they would be sent to spend the rest of their afterlives in a dreambubble. The Skyes, Skitis (summoned last minute by Winged Skye), and a private individual handled the safe delivery together. Meanwhile, the rest of the party had to be evacuated from the now-crumbling building. Katie used her time powers to make an escape, using the anchor method to arrive back at Desertia Station. Apparently she must have picked up something from there to make the leap.

With The Board squarely defeated, we announced that the union had gained control of The Railway, thus ending the strike with all demands met.

Currently, The Railway is undergoing repairs to re-open as many lines as possible, within safe means. Negotiations and new contract drafting is currently underway between the DTA and the co-op Railway to decide how things will be handled from now on. It is likely that Queen Mab and/or her appointed representative will get involved at some point. Her Enigmatic Resiliency will also need to get involved for matters pertaining to SCART's connection to the greater railway.

In the meantime, please be patient with repairs and re-openings, its being worked on.

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Contact Dr. Winters at 555-555-2425 to schedule an appointment, new client slots open this month.

Lost flock of Psyduck, please locate them for me, they ran off after a train ride and I can't find them anywhere. Contact duckymaster95 to report any sightings.

update: now I can't even ride the rails to seek them out? If you see them anywhere PLEASE contact me.

Do you want an ad here? Contact lavenderSiren to get an ad for whatever. If you don’t write it yourself, you risk the newsletter writer writing it instead, do be warned.

This week’s known market stands in Desertia Town:

DTA train ticket stand?

Katie’s potion stand (Not available to plitlanders due to regulations, available to all others however)

shinyjiggly pokesnacks stand (also has a Unity Village location!)

Brae's produce stall:

- Potted vegetables

- Jarred vegetables

- Various jams

- Hisuian herbs (medicinal leek, pep-up plant, king's leaf)

Traditional Shop

- Whistle, beast (5 gp)

- Scent cloak (20 gp)

- Piton, silent (5 sp)

- Smith's Tools (20 gp)

I think that does it for this week. I've been working on HyacinthHeld, but its been going slow due to obligations and distractions. I'm just glad that I have proper inspiration for it now.

https://letssosl.boards.net/thread/450/charcherry-weekly-issue-213

#charcherry weekly #sbarg2.5dungeoncrashers #sbargv2 #pokemon

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viridiave · 4 years ago

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Daylight Prairie- Creatures of the Light (lore dump)

I've had a couple of theories and headcanons stirring around my head regarding Prairie for a while now- so right here we're gonna tie some of them together cuz I haven't lored in a good long while XD

Note- btw I'm not part of beta so this is purely just me- a crackhead- putting together a crackpot narrative. SOME spoilers for Eden are present.

okay these guys drive me fucking nuts

We barely know anything about these guys- and what little we do know is derived purely from their closed off uh... Worshipping space. Look at this freaking thing.

In the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by clouds for miles. Fairly advanced diamond technology. Altars with graves decked out in gold and candles. The mechanism for the entrance to the elevator to begin with is fairly complex as well- activated by butterflies and the butterflies don't even die in the process. And to top everything off, this place has a portal that leads directly to the Prairie Temple.

If this isn't sus I don't know what is- but I think I have an explanation.

There are six spaces for six more people that we are not aware of. The only people we DO know of is one bald person in the short garb and another bald person in the long garb. I propose that these six missing people are the Whisperers.

Which is... pretty out there, I know. Counting the 'voices' that we get in game, (including the ones from previous Seasons like Lightseekers and Sanctuary) we have one for Birds, Whales, Mantas, Memories, Crabs, and Jellyfish. For now, we're not counting either Butterflies or Krill- and I'll explain why in a bit.

As for the initial proposition that these Whisperers are the missing six, first we need to ask ourselves what exactly it was that the Worshippers were... worshipping. There is a possible god of which we see in game, and the name of this god is the Megabird.

Megabird here was heavily present in concepts, and in the final product we only ever get to see traces of her and heck to this day we're not sure if she's a canon entity in the final game at all. Megabird as an entity in the concepts is basically the god overseeing the world of Sky and is comprised entirely of light. It's unclear whether or not the Ancestors were aware of her existence after or even before the King rose to power. The Elders themselves are likely privy to this information, but somehow I doubt that it's something anyone wanting to assert control over their people would encourage.

There's certainly the possibility that these Worshippers were a religious sect dedicated to the Elders themselves- but since I'm here trying to propose that they're worshipping something tangential to the possible actual god, we're going to assume this isn't the case. On that note-

I propose that the Ceremonial Worshippers valued the Light above all else- and this worship was extended towards the light creatures themselves.

'Oi. Vir. Crabs are DARK Creatures.'

Not all of them. Heck, a dark crab might not have been the norm back then, but that's a stretch and besides- the fact is that these crabs on the far end of Sanctuary are docile.

Keep in mind that these followers were stationed in Prairie, of all places. You know what else is in Prairie? Sanctuary Isles- home to several kinds of manta, butterflies, jellyfish, and even the elusive Elder Manta (yes that's what the big chonky boi that looks like a light krill is called- it's not a whale.). Daylight Prairie is in no shortage of light creatures- and at the center of it all is its Elder.

Prairie Elder is implied to have responsibilities toward the light creatures as presented in the SkyShop poem featuring them:

'Fields of harvest, prairies of joy.

Farmer and fauna as one.

The Elder protects the creatures of light,

For darkened days to come.

Fly up, fly away,

For the Children of Light in need.

We shall recall our days of wonder,

And feel its air once more.'

-SkyShop Poem (Prairie Elder Pin)

In the greater context of the story, Daylight Prairie is the primary source of light energy in the form of the light creatures- it makes sense that the Elder of that realm would oversee the flow of light creatures from one realm to the other, and that the Ancestors in their domain would have a greater respect for the creatures than others. They're the ones working with them, and they're the ones that know them best.

Enter the Worshippers- who were likely serving directly under the Prairie Elder. I'm not confident that the Prairie Elder could have shared information about the Megabird- or if they even know the god existed. 'The Light itself' is pretty vague for something to be worshipped, and it's possible that the Prairie Elder instead encouraged people that the Light manifested itself into the various light creatures that we see.

In this world however- industrialization marches on, and eventually these light creatures became things to be harvested rather than worshipped. It's speculated that light creatures were used in the production of diamonds- we see signs of this scattered throughout Forest, and Wasteland by proxy. The mural under the bridge in Forest and the doors to the Temple seem to suggest as much at least. Eventually, this industrialization will grow out of hand. I have a few theories on what the Prairie Elder might have done to passively rebel against this.

We learn in the Prairie Elder's cutscene that they are able to form- not summon- butterflies from fire. I'm not proposing that the Prairie Elder is single-handedly responsible for the existence of butterflies- rather I'm proposing through the Prairie Elder's abilities that light is able to be manipulated in such a way that one can create light creatures, should they know how.

It could just be the butterflies, honestly. And really it could just be the Prairie Elder that's capable of such a feat- and because of these holes in this theory it's the first to go.

And yes this is the reason why the Butterflies don't count. I think. That has holes too and I can make a case for the Butterfly Charmer technically being part of this... But I digress.

Sanctuary Islands could be a literal Sanctuary for the light creatures- there is an impressive variety of them present. It's also very out of the way, tucked away in a corner of Bird's Nest. The theory I'm proposing here is that the Prairie Elder and the Sanctuary Guide worked together to keep this place hidden from the rest of the Kingdom- and that it was the Sanctuary Guide that broke the bells that would have granted the Ancestors access to the light creatures.

This is... probably improbable, but my whole post was leading up to this so we're doing this. The missing six Worshippers are the Whisperers that we've encountered throughout the game- leaving in order to either develop their relationship with or protect their creatures of choice.

The Bird Whisperer stayed close and remained in Prairie- and is probably the reason why Bird's Nest exists at all. The Jellyfish Whisperer remained as well, opting to stay in Sanctuary- the natural habitat of the jellyfish.

The Whale Whisperer ventured to Forest- where there probably once was a small population of Whales, given the corpse we see in the Bridge Area and the live Whale in the Underground Cavern.

The Manta Whisperer went to Valley- I'm guessing to see how mantas were being used for labor and competitions? And Valley is right next to Wasteland so I might be reaching but they could have been monitoring that too.

The Crab Whisperer is a tricky one because we see them travelling with the Lightseekers, and yes I am proposing that this lady was formerly a Worshipper. But because we're dealing with a creature that we now know is more dark than light, maybe the Crab Whisperer joined the Lightseekers in order to observe that phenomenon more closely? Because she does refer to the crabs as friends in her SkyShop poem. Wasteland wasn't always a... wasteland, after all. Things could have been different, and the crabs could have been adapting in a time where they would be relatively dangerous but not so much that an Ancestor couldn't approach them.

And then there's the Memory Whisperer. For this one, I don't think a spirit manta actually exists- at least, not as an organic creature and moreso just an interactive holograph courtesy of the machinations of Vault. I'm actually not too sure on what this person could have been doing, but they have a call- and my best guess is that the Memory Whisperer is one who listens to the last vestiges of light leftover by a creature- because we do see skeletons in Vault, and one is of a creature that looks like an amalgamation of several spirit mantas.

As far back as Prophecy, Krill don't appear to be aligned with the light. They aren't depicted as former light creatures, nor a corrupted variant of an elder manta or whale- they are presented as thenselves in that Prophecy mural. Though I'm sure we'll get a Krill call later on, I'm not going to count them until then.

<CONCLUSION...?>

This huge post is... full of holes and heavy speculation, I'm aware. Mostly I just wanted to dump a bunch of shower thoughts and leftover lore I came up in the Discord lore chat. Go check it out sometime, I've derived a few points in this from interacting with people there. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this matter, by the way- it's fun theorizing! I haven't done this seriously in a long while.

#sky cotl #sky children of the light #sky lore #sky cotl lore #that sky game #daylight prairie #season of sanctuary

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 4 years ago

Text

Trinkets, Rings, 3: Enough rings and bands to wear three on every finger and toe while still having dozens to spare. Rings, especially magic rings are a very common item of jewelry in fiction and roleplaying. From a basic ring of protection, to the life saving ring of regeneration, the ring of the Nibelungs, the rings of the lantern corps, the ring of Gyges, any wedding ring ever depicted, the ring of Solomon, Sir Perceval’s ring, Aladdin’s genie housing ring, the nine rings of mortal men and the precious one ring of power, these small circular pieces of gems, metal, wood or bone always add more to the story than the sum of their parts. None of these rings are intensely magical in their own right but can serve as basis for a magical or plot relevant ring. When a DM rolls a d100, the bog standard ring of protection +1 they were going to give out now has a unique look and personality rather than just a mechanical benefit.

A big heavy ring made of sterling silver. On the face of the ring is a skull the size of a large man’s thumb, run through with a lance and a flag fluttering around it. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the sigil as that of the Mad Lancer’s an infamous cavalry unit that was a force of nature as much as a military company.

An onyx ring set with a shimmering opal, from which a thin line of black smoke continuously billows forth.

A shinning brass signet ring that proudly displays a raised fist against a red starburst. Knowledge PC's will recognize the sigil as the symbol of a paladin order known as the Boros Legion. There's a weight to it that belies its size, a weight of strength and of pride.

A cheap-looking tin ring that has a small dial adorned with letters of the alphabet that can be aligned with various strange pictographs. Knowledgeable PC's will recognize it as a decoder ring and can be used to decipher texts that were written using this specific ring or a twin of it.

A ring comprised of two interlocking bands, one gold engraved with a motifs of laughing faces and the other granite with a motif of faces set in stony silence.

A lead ring bearing engravings of an otherworldly entity spreading its unnatural gifts.

Ring of Fire Detection: A pure white ring set with a transparent red gemstone. The gemstone will light up and emit a piercing sound if the ring comes into direct contact with fire, magical or otherwise.

A simple black ring is polished to a shine, and written in gold lettering around the outer band is the phrase "I am better off healed than I ever was unbroken."

A crudely made gold ring set with a huge green gemstone that glows faintly even in full daylight.

An iron ring set with a dark ruby of great size and splendor. Within its heart flickers a mysterious flame, entrapped there in ages past by a masterful mage.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

An onyx ring set with a shimmering opal, from which a thin line of black smoke continuously billows forth.

A ring comprised of two interlocking bands, one gold engraved with a motifs of laughing faces and the other granite with a motif of faces set in stony silence.

A lead ring bearing engravings of an otherworldly entity spreading its unnatural gifts.

A simple black ring is polished to a shine, and written in gold lettering around the outer band is the phrase "I am better off healed than I ever was unbroken."

A crudely made gold ring set with a huge green gemstone that glows faintly even in full daylight.

An iron ring set with a dark ruby of great size and splendor. Within its heart flickers a mysterious flame, entrapped there in ages past by a masterful mage.

A thin ring made of two intertwining strands of silver and gold, both ornate and simple in appearance.

A silver ring in the shape of a spider whose legs clasp around the wearer’s finger and whose body is a yellowish gem.

An unassuming copper ring clean and shiny like a new penny, it has dozens of smiling faces faintly carved into its surface.

A silver ring with golden ram's horns curling around the edge of its crown.

A bog iron ring with a poem in Druidic on the inside.

An onyx ring. When tapped three times, a faint blue light shows the symbol of an assassin’s guild.

A pair of black iron body piercing rings, with a chain linking them.

A copper ring with a small clear gem that shimmers slightly even in the dark. It is badly crafted with scuffs and scratches along the loop and yet there is something quaint about it that suggests more value than the first impression would suggest.

A silver banded ring with a single white gem encased in the center. Etched into the surface are ancient glyphs, binding its power to an individual to be used as a focus. The head of the ring is a flat surface which is adorned with an intricate ritualistic circle design.

A lavender ring with a cosmic gemstone faceted into it. The gem moves and glows like outer space, and has a spiral vortex pattern along its edges.

An iron signet ring whose symbol can be changed once per day by the bearer. The image must be something the bearer has seen and remembers clearly.

A crystalline ring in the shape of a dragon, that changes based on the bearer’s emotional state.

A gold ring whose Randomly Colored gemstone levitates just out of the socket, following wherever the ring goes.

A platinum ring that has a large blue sapphire embedded in the band. When the bearer looks into the stone, he can see a perfect reflection of himself that appears to have a life all of its own. Engraved on the inside of the band one can see a message that reads; "Never lose sight of your true self".

A single human tooth encased in a brass ring, inscribed with a twin-tailed comet. Knowledge PC’s will recognize it as a holy reliquary of a relatively famous prophet and devout follower of the God of the Outer Stars.

An oxidized copper ring etched with ancient hieroglyphs that tell a timeless fable.

A brass ring set with an oversized, round brown bezoar for a gemstone. Extremely ugly, by modern standards.

A heavy silver ring with a flat, round head. A cap lifts off the top, revealing a folded-down needle, which may be lifted into place, and the markings of a sundial around it. None of the marks, all twiggy, natural shapes, correspond to modern notation, save the fact there are 12.

A ruby ring, heavy, plain, and gold, set with a fat, badly cut ruby that's entirely stuck on a finger bone. In modern times, it would be a man’s thumb ring, though an ugly one. The band surrounds a thick finger bone and won’t come off (But could be chiseled out) as the knuckles are knobby and too wide. The bone is fragile with age, and conspicuously blackened.

A signet ring, quite wide, made of cast iron. The signet face is that of a beaked skull, one halfway between that of a human and a crow. The ring is too wide for a human to wear and seems to have been designed for a finger twice that size.

A horrific black ring that turns translucent when submerged in a water and uncoils into a slippery, leech-like tentacle when unworn.

A wide, red brass ring, that's plain, on the exterior. There is lettering inside the band, raised and sharp. If worn on a clenched fist, the lettering digs painfully into its finger, leaving the word "memento" imprinted in red welts.

A mithral ring, engraved with a pattern of rolling waves that encircles the entire band. The ring is immune to rust, both from natural oxidation and rust caused by magical effects.

A steel ring that carries the sign of an armorers’ guild: a stylized helmet with visor, two crossed swords and the rune “A” engraved beneath them.

A lapis colored gemstone embedded into a ring that is stylized with the alchemical symbol of a circle inside a square, inside a triangle, inside another circle.

A mysterious ring; ancient, covered in runes. After spending some minutes sniffing, touching, and examining the thing, the bearer can safely say it exudes an aura of magic. When worn is makes the bearer's hairs stand on end and sparks jump between the metal and his fingers.

A ring carved from a single solid gemstone that glows with an inner light and pulses with its wielder’s heartbeat.

A simple pale stone that sits atop a plain steel band, flickering every so often with unknown power.

A simple gold band studded with blue diamonds. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize it as a ring of office for the Grand Vizier, the highest advisor to a great rajah.

Ring of Bubbles: A delicate ring made of multicolored glass. When this ring is held between two fingers and dipped it into a solution of soap and water, a creature can blow through it to produce dozens of fist sized, glowing, technicolor bubbles which are difficult to pop and last for up to a minute.

Ring of the Firebuilder: A ring made of worked flint. When struck with a piece of steel, it sheds sparks that are able to ignite objects as normal. The sparks created from the ring never harm the bearer, who gains Advantage on igniting objects with the ring.

A ring crafted of simple silver. The band is etched with different letters from all languages of the realms, some unrecognizable to any living person.

A thickly banded ring made of black steel. It sits heavy on the bearer's finger never feeling fully comfortable.

A sapphire banded in gold with a loop of string around it to go around the bearer's neck. The inside of the gem appears to be filled with flowing water that swirls and sloshes magnificently inside the sapphire.

A pewter ring with an inlaid gold band that slowly rotates.

A band of tarnished silver bearing no ornament or inscription, but is icy cold to the touch. The patches of dark corrosion on the ring subtly move and change. This never occurs while anyone observes the ring, but happens constantly.

A gold ring shaped in the form of a manacle, uncomfortably tight regardless of how it's worn.

A brass band in the shape of a dragon’s claw, scuffed and tarnished with age and frequent use.

A ring made from woven lead and silver.

A brass ring, set with rubies and engraved with fire runes, holds a lens of orange-red crystal that has an esoteric circle lightly etched in the glass.

A ring of silver green mithril engraved with runes from the enchantment school of magic. Though plain looking, the edges of the band are decorated with an intricate design of miniaturized knotwork.

An oversized ancient golden ring bears the silver hawk crest of the Yragerne family line on its large flat top.

An ornate golden ring set with a perfect square-cut emerald. A noble insignia on both sides of the gem features two eagles flying in opposite directions.

A platinum ring in the shape of a coiled snake. Its eyes are two perfectly cut rubies. The ring has a mesmerizing aura that attracts the eyes of the greedy and the vain. Only a person with clear desires and unclouded wants is unaffected by its allure.

A dwarven-forged amethyst ring bearing the inscription “Cracked from the hammer of the Forge-Father”

A garnet ring that causes the bearer’s hand to appear to be clawed and demonic.

A signet ring that will magically re-size itself to fit the wearer, but only if the wearer is a direct descendant of the creator of the ring.

A rose gold ring that, when put on, periodically gives the wearer the distinct feeling that he or she is forgetting something important.

A platinum ring set with an opal cracked in a star pattern, like a tiny sun when the light passes through it.

A simple black ring polished to a shine, and written in gold lettering around the outer band is the phrase "Three things cannot be long hidden: the Sun, the Moon, and the Truth.

A bizarre looking ring that could easily be mistaken for a piece of forest debris. Its thorn covered surface throbs with the sensation of a beating heart when placed on the left ring finger.

Sphinx Ring: A small band with a little head of a lion, made of limestone. By stroking the band while worn, the lion whispers a riddle based on events which its bearer has witnessed, and the riddles can vary widely in difficulty, from simple riddles to questions only previous bearers could logically answer. If the answer is correct, the ring purrs, while if incorrect, it roars. It is mostly used to pass the time during long travels, but nobles have been known to use them in party games.

A transparent ring of blue-green resin that smells of strange magical forests. The band is slick to the touch, but never slips off of a finger accidentally.

An unassuming bronze ring that seems less than spectacular in every way and boasts no gems to speak of on its surface. However, within the band lies a diamond pressing softly against the bearer's skin.

A rusty iron ring that appears to show a dusty landscape within it, changing as it’s moved. The finger the ring is worn on always feels warm and dry.

A sealing ring, with the image of a smiling, winking imp.

A band carved from a single chunk of raw amethyst, capped with a black pearl in a truesilver setting. In darkness, the ring glows with a faint purple hue.

A ring whose outer edge has six flat edges, so that it presents a hexagonal appearance. One of the sides bears a setting carved of obsidian, topped by a small black diamond

A ring that is more like a wrap designed to completely encase the bearer’s finger. It is formed of what appears to be a thin sheet of platinum laced with spidery gold webbing. Once slid over a finger, the covering becomes as flexible as cloth and stays in place until the bearer removes it.

A ring consisting of a truesilver core surrounded by a torus of azure ice coated in a slick sheen, as though in the process of melting. The ring is cold to the touch and though the ice remains slippery, it never melts and the ring is never in danger of slipping off the finger unexpectedly.

A ring crafted from pure white gold encrusted with speck- sized fragments of diamond. When held to the light, it produces a prismatic effect, sparkling and gleaming with all the colors of the rainbow.

A ring made entirely of silver, intricately carved in fine patterns. Four small opals are set into the surface at regular intervals. When the ring is worn, they slowly orbit the finger without ever leaving the band.

A black ring made from a single piece of obsidian and bears a gold inlay design of chains.

A ring made up of filaments of bone and black iron of various thicknesses, twisted together in a strange mottled composite.

A ring carved from moonstone in the shape of a miniature, cable-twisted torc. The end-caps of the "torc" rest where a signet would be, each mounting a tiny, curved feline claw cast from silver.

A signet ring made of heavy lead with a distinctively abnormal design carved into it.

A brass ring encasing a small, polished moldavite.

A silver ring made out of very fine wire worked into rather complicated decorative ornament.

An ornate brass signet ring with a coiled serpent design with two freshwater pearls for eyes. The ring has a poison pill compartment that is currently empty.

A small copper ring, inset with flawed pearls.

A ring made out of blond hair and porcelain braided together. Wearing it slowly causes the bearer to experience apathy towards everything.

A mysterious bronze ring, ancient and marked with eldritch signs.

A pewter ring in the shape of a crab with its claws pressed to its body and the legs forming the ring. The shell, claws, and legs of the crab are set with polished abalone and the eyes are tiny garnets.

An adamantine ring is set with a cabochon cut water opal.

A platinum ring set with a large diamond surrounded by a circle of smaller sapphires and rubies. The gems gleam brightly in even the dullest light. An inscription on the inside of the band reads simply “for Alenea” in Elven.

A larger than average ring that looks like sheets of gold woven together into a simple pattern. Despite its size, ring feels almost weightless. On the inside of the ring there is an engraved; "A.Z."

A silver ring encrusted with dark gems. Upon inspection the ring itself smells of earth, mud and worms.

A brass ring that is crudely constructed with dent marks and battle burns.

A lapis colored gemstone embedded into a ring that is stylized with the alchemical symbol of a circle inside a square, inside a triangle, inside another circle.

A simple bronze ring sized for a giant's finger.

A plain-looking wooden ring with no characteristic marks or engravings. It almost looks as though the carpenter who fashioned it never got around to finishing it.

A copper ring shaped like knotted brambles.

A copper ring shaped like a dragon clutching its own tail, holding a moonstone it its mouth.

A petrified stone fist wearing a golden ring. It is impossible to remove the ring without destroying the fist.

A silver ring shaped like rolled arrow.

A bone ring with a deep purple inlay, set with an onyx.

An emerald ring that gives the bearer an abnormally strong sense of balance. The bearer is rendered immune from mundane vertigo effects such as dizziness from heights or seasickness.

A black stone ring made for the middle finger of a man's hand. The band is carved in the shape of a vine with thorns.

An iron band flecked with onyx pieces and is always cold to the touch.

A rough-hewn silver band with a single purple stone inset. No matter how long it is held, it is cold to the touch. While worn, the bearer occasionally hears strange dissonant whispers in Deep Speech promising power and domination over others.

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neuxue · 4 years ago

Note

Do you think that they could have translated WWX's ''ghostly path''/''crafty tricks'' by the more hackneyed ''dark arts''? (There's still a whole range of shades comprised in dark, a contrario to black.)

Important caveats first: I am not a native or perfectly fluent speaker; I've lived in a Chinese-speaking country but it is an acquired language and not my home culture. And while I have some translation experience in other languages, I would not at all consider myself an expert.

All of which means I don’t feel like I can (or should) give a definitive answer on this, so I’ll just... throw my general thought process at you as best I can in the areas I feel able to do so.

(Also, before subjecting you to my mess of thoughts re translation - if you want really excellent translations and content re translation and CQL, I recommend hunxi-guilai’s blog. I’m still working my way through it but it’s excellent - and far better than anything I can do!).

Okay. So. It’s probably important to first point out that there are several different terms used to describe Wei Wuxian’s path, largely divided by the ones he chooses to use, and the ones others use (which I feel like ties in to some of the central themes re perception and reputation, and the question of ‘what is right and what is wrong’).

Terms/descriptions used by others (or by Wei Wuxian in the context of quoting or contradicting others):

魔道 (mo dao; most notably found in the title of the novel; often translated as ‘demonic cultivation’)

邪道 / 邪术 (xie dao / xie shu; used by various characters in the novel and CQL; usually translated on Netflix as ‘wicked tricks’ or ‘evil sorcery’ in the early episodes before WWX takes it up)

邪魔歪道 (xie mo wai dao; used by Jin Zixun in ep25, translated on Netflix as ‘dirty malign tricks’ and ‘demonic cultivation’; a term for a heretical departure from the orthodox path)

Terms/descriptions used by Wei Wuxian:

诡道 / 诡道术法 (gui dao / gui dao shu fa; used by WWX to describe his methods to LWJ at the start of ep 22; usually translated on Netflix as ‘crafty tricks’)

鬼道 (gui dao; used at least once in the novel so far, though not entirely clear from context whether this is Wei Wuxian’s own word choice or if he’s echoing someone else’s; ‘ghost path’)

in the novel he also just refers to his former 修炼法门 (xiu lian fa men; 'cultivation method’ but not specifying any particular type)

There are probably others either that I’m forgetting from CQL or haven’t yet come across in the novel, but those are the main ones I remember.

So, what do these actually mean?

You can roughly break most of them into an adjective + noun, in which the nouns tend to be 道 or 术 (/术法).

道 (dao) - path, way. Like both of those words in English, it can be more literal or more figurative depending on context. (Also the ‘dao’ in Daoism)

术 / 术法 (shu / shu fa) - art, technique, method, etc.

Now the arguably more complicated part: the adjectives (or nouns used as adjectives, shh it’s fine):

邪 (xie) - evil, heretical, wicked, strange.

诡 (gui) - cunning, crafty, sly, etc; connotations of trickery, deception, guile.

鬼 (gui) - ghost, ghostly. other possible meanings/connotations but for the sake of this context and my sanity I’m going to stop at ghost.

魔 (mo) - I'm going to be lazy and quote Pleco on this one: ‘evil spirit; demon; devil; monster’ and ‘magic; mystic’.

For 魔 and 鬼, you can also maybe look at episode 4, when Lan Qiren is quizzing Wei Wuxian. What is the difference, he asks, between 妖魔鬼怪? (yao mo gui guai; demons/ghosts/monsters/etc; not going to go too far into mythology and other contexts, but in this particuarly setting these are the kinds of entities cultivators deal with). Wei Wuxian’s response is:

妖者非人之活物所化，魔者生人所化，鬼者死者所化，怪者非人之死物所化 / “yao are inhuman living things transformed, mo are living humans transformed, gui are dead [humans] transformed, guai are inhuman dead things transformed” (emphasis added).

So if we take that as a definition, how do you translate that? 鬼 maps okay to ‘ghost’ (not perfectly, because even ‘ghost’ gets into... how you regard the dead, and the concept of an afterlife, and where you place the concept of a ghost on the spectrum of good-neutral-evil, etc, but to some extent that’s hard to avoid completely), but do you take 魔 to ‘demon’ or ‘devil’ and accept the shift to an English speaker’s likely religious connotations? Do you take it towards the more ambiguous ‘monster’ or ‘evil spirit’? Do you just go with ‘evil’ as an adjective and call it a day?

It’s a similar thing with something like 邪 (xie) - do you use ‘evil’ and lose some of the connotation of ‘heretical’? Do you use ‘heretical’ and accept the shift to an English speaker’s likely-Christianity-shaded associations with that word? Do you pick something sort of in the middle like ‘wicked’ that still isn’t without its own connotations?

Which brings us, on a very meandering path, to your original question.

One of the challenges here is that I feel like translation becomes trickier the closer you get to existential or metaphysical concepts, or elements of religion, law, philosophy, rhetoric, etiquette, the concept of what is ‘right’, the afterlife, etc. Because at that point you’re not just translating a word corresponding to a concrete thing you can point to; you’re translating a whole cultural concept, which may or may not map cleanly to the target language / culture.

This gets into the blurred space between translation and localisation, and almost inevitably you’re going to run into some loss/distortion of meaning along the way, so it becomes a question of... what tradeoffs you make, and why, and what the implications are, and whether by translating something a certain way you are inadvertently bringing along certain unintended implications.

And that’s where we get into questions of... how far is ‘too far’, and were do you want a translation to fall on the spectrum between ‘translated as literally as possible with no regard for comprehensibility’ and ‘translated so far as to lose elements of or disrespect the original’. And it is a spectrum, and different translators are going to have different opinions on where the right balance is.

Of all the terms used to describe Wei Wuxian’s cultivation path, because I think conflating all of them into a single translation would mean losing a fair bit of nuance, I think the closest match for ‘dark arts’ might be 邪道 (or more specifically 邪术, as you get an almost literal 术 -> ‘arts’ there, strictly speaking, though 邪 is far from a perfect match for 'dark').

But the question of whether that should be used as a translation, instead of other options, goes back to this idea of... what kinds of connotations do each of those terms carry, and how well do they map on various levels of meaning (semantic, cultural, etc), what kind of shift/distortion cost do you incur, and how far you want to localise.

With ‘dark arts’, at least amongst my generation, I feel like the immediate connotation for a lot of English speakers is going to be Harry Potter. Which... if you’re looking for an analogue to 邪道 / 邪术 in the modern canon of western fantasy... arguably their respective stories both terms carry some connotation of... something that is evil / wrong / heretical. But in CQL/MDZS there’s the whole... question of whether that perception is true just because it is commonly held, and even if it is true whether there is justification or value to it, which is absent in HP (and I don’t think this is a trivial difference).

And there’s the question of... do you want or need to localise to that extent? (Assuming it’s as much of a localisation as it feels to me; I am admittedly not very well-read in fantasy or adjacent genres in languages besides English, so I could be mistaken here). Does that shift the original meaning and context (linguistic, cultural, etc) too far, in an attempt to cater to an English-language audience?

Maybe, maybe not. I really do not think I am the right person to answer that. But those are some of the questions I’d consider.

#cannot stress this enough: i am not even remotely an authority on this AT ALL #this is really just me thinking aloud re translation and language #i will very happily accept corrections/criticisms here #and if i have in fact overstepped please let me know #i just... find the process of translation interesting #asks #lamelinam #the untamed #language

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ask-spiderglass · 3 years ago

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Amari: I’m back.

Amari: So after some research onto some of entities’ traits that I’ve noticed from Homebody’s behavior and re-examining the victims’ reports, I think I might have an idea of what might attract Homebody. So, with a little help from Gwen, I managed to get more detail regarding the items in the victims’ homes… aside from being all isolated in some way, Homebody seems to be more likely to go after people who might own (whether they realize it or not) a particularly rare or powerful magic items/hunter gear. Especially if they are antiques.

Amari: None of the victims were mages or hunters themselves but certainly gotten their hands on objects that might be deemed worthy enough to bring into custody of the Avengers (or S.H.I.E.L.D). It seems these items disappeared after the victims died as they were not at the scene whenever the body’s were discovered. Items (along with significance) that were reported missing are:

- An enchanted portable type writer that had the ability to cast spells from the 1930s

- An old leather bound Bible with gilded pages that was used in an exorcism from the 19th century

- A well cared for fascine knife that was used by a monster hunter from the 18th century.

- A casino silver strike that could bend financial luck to one’s favor

- An enchanted vanity handheld mirror that is able to view things magically hidden/reveal the true forms of entities in its reflection

Amari: Why is this relevant? I have a theory that Homebody might also be programmed to be something similar to a “repo man” of sorts, specifically targeting people who have items of high value and magical significance. Maybe it was meant to quietly steal magical items (and potentially kill anyone who gets in the way of that) for the Avengers..? Whatever the case is, I think I know how I’ll lure it out from hiding.

Amari: I’m gonna look through some of the items the Cobwebs have that some of our clients donated to us for safe keeping and use whatever I find to bring it out. And maybe… if I ask nicely, Dr. Strange could lend me something small that could entice Homebody further.. I will need to establish a set up with the right conditions, however. So that means I need a sort of home to “live in” by myself. And from there, I’ll set up various magic traps and prepare myself for a fight.

Amari: That one might be harder to accomplish than actually getting the bait, but I have a few ideas. Aside from that, I will look into the possibility that this entity might be comprised of nanotechnology of some sort, as it seems to be the one thing that really makes sense in context of Homebody being Stark’s work… I will confide in Gwen about this since she’s better with tech than I am. I will update just before my plan is ready for action.

#amari santos | spider glass #homebody #spiderverse #spidersona #spider man au #dr. strange #paranormal law enforcement agencies #death tw

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mmelnmar · 4 years ago

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The Kabbalah of Marriage

The Kabbalah of MarriageOne of the most frequently asked questions today is a personal one: How do I find and maintain a good relationship?

Love remains the most compelling and elusive issues of our time, and perhaps of all time.

How can I find a healthy, meaningful and above all, permanent relationship?

No adequate answer will be found to this question until we first understand what exactly a relationship is.

The word “relationship” means two things relating to one another. But what is the essence of a relationship? What makes a relationship work? What ingredients are necessary?

The secret of a relationship can be found in an unlikely place: The month in which we find ourselves now.

We have just entered the Hebrew month of Elul, the last month of the year. Every month has its own unique energy and power. Elul is the month of love and relationships. The sign of Elul is Virgo, and one of the acronyms of Elul is: Ani l’dodi v’dodi li, meaning “I am to my beloved, and my beloved is to me” (Song of Songs 6:3).

Ani L’dodi V’dodi Li captures the very essence of a relationship: It is mutually symbiotic fusion of two forces – I am to my beloved and my beloved is to me.

First there are two distinct personalities: “I” and “my beloved.” Then the “I” (my personality) takes the initiative and reaches to “my beloved.” In turn, “my beloved” responds “to me.”

Ani l’dodi v’dodi li emphasizes another vital aspect – that a relationship is a reflection: You and your beloved mirror each other. Like the face reflected in water, one heart [is reflected] in another (Proverbs 27:19). Love elicited is in direct proportion to love given. When “I am to my beloved” – “my beloved” will be “to me.” The same way that “I am to my beloved,” so will “my beloved” be “to me.”

Thinking of love as your reflection is quite extraordinary: Look into the eyes of your beloved and you will see yourself.

Finally, Elul’s Ani l’dodi v’dodi li teaches us that love is about initiating. First Ani L’dodi – I am to my beloved, and that is the catalyst for “my beloved to me.” Love is proactive, nor reactive or passive. If you want love in your life do not stand on the sidelines, “protecting” yourself from being hurt and wait for someone to love you. You must learn to give – to initiate, to love. And when you do – love comes back to you.

One powerful question, however, looms: How is it possible that two distinct entities should become one? Can they actually retain their distinct personalities and truly love each other? It’s one thing to say that for love we pay a price. The price is relinquishing independence and compromising your identity for the benefits that love brings. But it’s quite another to claim that love can be had without compromising individuality.

Yet, we are told that true love is unity, and true unity is the fusion of two souls in one seamless union, in which both remain intact while joining as one.

How that paradox is possible requires a journey into the mystery of Divine Unity (Hashem Echod), the theme of this column over the last few weeks.

The quest to discover Divine unity in a pluralistic universe is far thornier than the effort to build unity between finite creatures. After all, as different as two people may be, they still are both human, both mortal and finite, both with more similarities than differences, and both in need of love. G-d and the universe, on the other hand, are infinitely distant entities, that seemingly have nothing in common. Quite the contrary: they are diametric opposites: G-d is infinite, the universe is finite; G-d the invulnerable Creator, we the fragile creatures. Above all, our existential, dependent, existence is absolutely different than the Divine non-existential, independent, existence (metzius bilti metzius nimtza). How then is it possible to unite these opposite realities?

The entire study of Kabbalah and Chassidus – Jewish mysticism – comes to answer this very question; to teach us how humans can develop a relationship with G-d

The mystics lay out an elaborate system which allows us the ability to achieve Divine Unity (Hashem Echod) in the universe: Like “stepping stones” the process of creation, called the “cosmic order,” enables us to climb the ladder that marries heaven and earth, the human and the Divine – the finite and the infinite.

In an article titled The Kabbalah of Duality we discussed the first step in this process – the Tzimtzum concealment. In order for there to be a relationship we first need independence – an “I” who reaches to “my beloved.” In the presence of the Divine omnipresence no independent entity can arise. The Tzimtzum concealment allowed “room” for our independent consciousness to emerge.

However, the Tzimtzum is not “literal,” it is only a state of concealment, and it only affects the outermost layers of consciousness (light), not the higher states, and surely not on the unconscious level. [Yet, even the non-literal Tzitmzum is real, not an illusion, and the independent reality it creates is real, not just in our perception]. Hence, despite the concealment we always have the ability to connect and integrate our lives with the Divine light and the Divine Essence.

But the Tzimtzum only explains the possibility for potential integration, not how to actually achieve it. The non-literal Tzimtzum tells us that within existence we can find the Divine. But does existence itself have Divine properties?

To answer this question we need to dissect existence a bit. What exactly is existence?

Existence as we know it is comprised of various elements, but in its most basic form they break down into two forces: matter and energy. Every part of the universe, from the largest to the smallest, has a “body,” some form (physical or otherwise), and a “soul,” the inner power that defines the energy of the object. Matter is the “outer” layer and energy is its “inner” function and purpose.

Breaking it down further, both matter and energy are also each comprised of these two dimensions: The “body” of matter – its tangible properties, and the “energy” of matter – its shape, form and function: The “body” of energy – its definable personality, and the soul “energy” of energy – its deeper purpose.

Now the question is this: When we connect our lives to the Divine do we do so only on the spiritual (energy) level or also on the material (matter) level?

The argument could be made, as some schools of thought maintain, that the objective of life is to deny the material and transcend to the spiritual. Unity, then, is achieved exclusively on the soul level.

Even if we need to engage somewhat the material world, some suggest that at most we can channel the “function” of matter toward spiritual ends, but not the coarse matter itself.

At the other extreme, one could argue that even the spirit and energy of existence cannot be integrated with the Divine. At most the “energy” of energy can find some commonality with G-dliness, but not the “matter” of energy (its personality and form). A soul can unite with G-d only in a very general sense, but not with its distinct personality. Its must relinquish its individuality in order to become one with the Divine.

[All these viewpoints, mind you, are possible even according to the non-literal interpretation of the Tzimtzum, which only tells us that the Divine is present (albeit concealed) within existence, but does not inform us about the personality of existence, and thus, to what extent we can integrate the universe with the Divine. Let alone according to the literal interpretation of the Tzimtzum, according to which there is no direct relationship between our world and the reality of the Divine].

In the ultimate application of Divine unity, the mystics teach us – as emphasized in the works of the Chassidic masters – that the unity must permeate every fiber of existence, not just its spirit, not just its shape, form and function, not just in general terms. But every dimension of the universe – from energy to matter, from the matter of energy to the matter of matter – contains a Divine dimension that is waiting to be released.

They explain this with the elegant structure of the “cosmic order” comprised of “energies” (lights) and “containers,” which correspond with and are the root of the “energy” and “matter” of our universe.

By understanding the interplay between “light” and “container” and how each of them interact with their respective divine source, we can learn how to marry heaven and earth and integrate every aspect of our beings with higher purpose, ultimately with the Divine itself. The relationship between these forces teach us how to develop the relationship between our material bodies and souls, between our involvements in the physical worlds with our spiritual endeavors; we learn how to develop and expand our own material “containers” and fuse them with the “lights” of spirituality.

Beginning with the human soul shaped in the Divine Image, the mystics explain that the soul manifests and mirrors the Divine energy (light); each person’s soul is a reflection, a microcosm of G-d’s “personality.” And not just in a general sense, but the distinct personality of each soul is rooted in the distinct personality of the “lights,” which have defined properties (there are actually several opinions regarding the extent of these “light” properties, which reflect in different levels of the unity that can be achieved. But the final consensus is that the “lights” have individual properties, which allow our unique personalities to find divine expression).

Similarly, the spiritual forces within the material world can be aligned to their respective Divine roots, in all their glorious detail, rooted in the Divine light, the kav (thin ray of light) that pierced through the Tzimtzum, whose source is the light before the Tzimtzum, the Divine power to create the infinite (koach ha’bli-gvul).

That’s the soul. What about the body and the matter of the universe? The human body too was created in the Divine Image, and every aspect of matter is shaped by the “hand of G-d.” Not only “light” but also the “containers” reflect higher levels of the Divine. Not only the spirit but also the structure of existence is rooted in the Source with G-dlike features, which we have to reveal.

In mystical terms: The “containers” of existence are rooted in the Divine “containers” of Atzilut, which in turn are a reflection of the “containers” of Adam Kadmon, which originate from the (letters of the) reshimu, the residue that remained after but was unaffected by the Tzimtzum, rooted in the Divine power to create the finite (koach ha’gvul).

Now, when you take into account that “light” and “container” join together until they become one, we can begin to understand E=mc2 – how energy and matter are actually one and the same.

This, briefly, is the way the Kabbalists explain how the very fabric of existence (matter and energy) can be integrated with the Divine. It’s not just that the Divine Essence, which transcends all definitions and structures, enables the fusion of matter and spirit. That would imply that the fusion is solely a result of the Essence’s power, despite the limits of existence. The ultimate purpose is that the universe, on its own terms and by the standards of its own parameters, contains the Divine. That is ultimate unity – not simply on G-d’s terms, but also on the terms of existence. Such unity can only be achieved when we recognize that in the personality of existence glimmers of the Divine.

Discovering the Divine within the properties of our universe is the most magnificent effort we can undertake, transforming life into a majestic journey.

The ultimate manifestation of Divine unity is in human relationships – in the ways of love and marriage. The “lights” and “containers” that teach us how we can fuse our lives with the Divine, teach us how we can discover true unity, while maintaining our individuality in our interpersonal relationships.

A good analogy for this is music: The power and beauty of a melody is dependent on each note maintaining its “individuality” and playing its unique sound. Simultaneously, each note is completely fused with all the others, all complementing each other, without in any way compromising each ones’ distinct identity. The same synthesis – harmony out of diversity – can be witnessed in the symmetry of every healthy organism and system, from the human body to the extraordinary design of nature.

A true relationship is total fusion of two – “I am to my beloved and my beloved to me.” Two distinct individuals, with different bodies and different souls, join together, in one seamless union. Neither is compromised or diminished. A transcendent power enables the fusion; but it also manifests in the individual personalities: as they remain intact they also recognize on their own individual terms that love – “I am to my beloved and my beloved to me” – is the ultimate expression of individuality.

In this month of Elul we have the opportunity to create, mend and renew relationships. May we use the month well, and may we all be blessed with experiencing “I am to my beloved and my beloved to me.”

One fundamental question still remains: How can we achieve total fusion of “I am to my beloved and my beloved is to me” when the Divine Essence is a non-existential reality, completely different and beyond our existential existence? Given, we can unite with the Divine as it manifests in existence, but can we actually connect to the ultimate reality – the innermost essence of Divine reality, which we have absolutely no way of relating to?

#relationship #allaboutlove love truelove

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schizophasic · 5 years ago

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Ipseity disturbance

The notion of a disordered self in schizophrenia as its core phenotypic feature was articulated, in various terms and clarity in all classic texts on schizophrenia and in the more recent, phenomenologically oriented literature. For example, Kraepelin considered “disunity of consciousness” as a generative disorder in schizophrenia, whereas Eugen Bleuler listed the experiential disorders of the ego among the so-called “complex fundamental” (diagnostic) schizophrenic symptom. Jaspers observed that in schizophrenia, “Descartes’‘cogito ergo sum’ (I think therefore I am) may still be superficially cogitated but it is no longer a valid experience”. Kurt Schneider explicitly emphasised that the formative matrix out of which the “first rank symptoms” emerge, was a “radical qualitative change” in the field of consciousness, comprising a disturbed first personal perspective (“Ichheit”) and a disturbed sense of “mineness” of experience (“Meinhaftigkeit”). The notion of an experiential self-disorder (SD) continued to appear in the literature in schizophrenia, predominantly as anecdotal case reports in phenomenologically or psychoanalytically oriented literature or in influential theoretical contributions. However, a disorder of the self, understood as a set of anomalous experiences, is not included in the contemporary diagnostic systems (DSM-III+/ICD-10) nor was it addressed, until recently, by systematic empirical research.

... This wave of studies demonstrated that SD aggregate selectively in first admission schizophrenia and schizotypal disorders, but not in bipolar psychosis. SD were also detectable in populations at high genetic risk for schizophrenia, aggregating selectively among individuals diagnosed with schizophrenia spectrum disorders who were biologically related to a schizophrenia proband. In a follow-up of nonspectrum psychiatric patients, 5 years after their first admission, SD predicted new (incident) cases of the schizophrenia spectrum disorder.

On the clinical-phenomenological level, SD refer to a disturbed structure of subjectivity, i.e., a disturbed sense of the experiential self. This ordinary sense of self signifies living our (conscious) life in the first-person perspective, as a self-present, single, temporally persistent, bodily, and demarcated (bounded) subject of experience and action. Phenomenology and neuroscience operate here with the notions of “minimal” or “core” self to describe a structure of experience that necessarily must be in place in order for the experience to be subjective, i.e., to be someone’s experience. The notion of “minimal self” signifies the first personal articulation of experience, typically called “mineness,” “myness,” “for-me-ness”, or ipseity. It is a sense of “I-me-myself” that implicitly saturates our experiences across their changing modalities and the flux of time. I am always already aware of “I-me-myself,” with no need for introspection or reflection to assure myself of being myself. Thus, ipseity founds the very basic sense of identity core upon which more complex and sophisticated sense of identity and being a person emerge and are continuously (re)-created throughout the life. The minimal sense of self is always coupled with an automatic, unreflected immersion in the shared social world, variously designated, e.g., “common sense,” “sense of reality,” “fonction du réel.” The world is always there, tacitly grasped as a real and self-evident background of all experience and meaning.

In schizophrenia spectrum disorders, this basic self-hood seems to be challenged, unstable and oscillating, resulting in often alarming and alienating experiences, frequently dating back to childhood or early adolescence. The patient feels ephemeral, lacking core identity, profoundly (yet ineffably) different from others ,and alienated from the social world. There is a diminished sense of existence, distortions of first-person perspective with a failing sense of “mineness” of the field of awareness (e.g., “my thoughts have no respect for me,” “it seems as if my thoughts were not mine”), spatialisation of the experiential contents (e.g., thoughts being experienced as located, extended, thing-like entities), and inadequate “ego-boundaries,” with deficient sense of privacy of one’s inner world. Correlatively, there is a sense of lacking immersion in the world and inadequate nonreflective (immediate) grasp of self-evident meanings (e.g., “why is the grass green?”), as well as a general hyperreflective stance (e.g., “I only live in my head,” “I always observe myself”).

https://academic.oup.com/schizophreniabulletin/article/40/6/1300/1853109

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gaming-rabbot · 6 years ago

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Salmon Run and Presentation

A (not so) brief dissertation on narrative framing in video games, featuring Splatoon 2

With the holidays in full swing, I took advantage of a deal one day when I went into town, and finally got my hands on Splatoon 2. Having loved the prior game as much as I did, waiting this long to get the sequel felt almost wrong. But like many another fellow meandering corpus of conscious flesh, I am made neither of time nor money.

Finally diving in, I figured I might take this excuse to remember that I write game reviews, sometimes. You know, when the tide is high, the moon blue, and the writer slightly less depressed. I ended up scrapping my first couple drafts, however. You see, a funny thing was happening; I kept veering back into talking about Salmon Run, the new optional game mode the sequel introduces.

Also I might look at the Octo Expansion later, on its own. After I get around to it…

Look, the base game already has a lot of content to explore, and as previously stated, I am sadly corporeal, and not strung together with the metaphysical concept of time itself.

My overall thoughts, however, proved brief, so I’ll try to keep this short.

(Mild spoilers coming along.)

Gameplay wise, I think the story mode is much improved upon by handing you different weapons for certain levels which were specifically built with them in mind. Whereas the prior game left you stuck with a variant of the starter splattershot all the way through. This keeps things interesting, pushes me outside of my comfort zone, and it’s a good way to make sure players will come from a well-informed place when deciding what weapon they want for multiplayer; which, let’s face it, is the real meat of these games and where most players are going to log the most time.

I also love the way bosses are introduced with the heavy drums and rhythmic chants and the dramatic light show. It endows the moment with a fantastic sense of gravitas, and manages to hype me up every time. Then the boss will have an aspect of their design which feels a bit silly or some how rather off, keeping the overall tone heavily grounded in the toony aesthetics the series already established for itself.

Narratively, I felt rather okay about the story aspect of Story Mode. The collectible pages in the levels still have a certain amount of world building, though this time it seems more skewed toward explaining what pop culture looks like in this world, such as, an allusion to this world’s equivalent to Instagram.

Cynical as it is…

That’s definitely still interesting in its own right, though perhaps it’s less of a revelatory gut-punch as slowly piecing it together that the game takes place in the post-apocalypse of Earth itself, and the inklings copied ancient human culture.

We still got some backstory for this game’s idol duo, though. And that, I appreciate. It means Pearl and Marina still feel like a part of this world, rather than seeming obligatory for the sake of familiarity, given the first game had an idol duo as well.

Meanwhile, perhaps it is a bit obvious that Marie’s cousin, Callie, has gone rogue, and that she is the mysterious entity cracking into the radio transmissions between her and Agent 4. If I recall correctly, that was a working theory that came about with the first trailer or two. That, or she had died.

As soon as Marie says aloud she wonders where Callie has gone, I knew right away. And that’s just in the introduction.

That said, on some level, after stomaching through certain other games and such that actively lie or withhold information to force an arbitrary plot twist for plot twist sake, it feels almost nice to go back to a narrative that actually bothers to foreshadow these things. Plus, having gotten already invested in Callie as a character from the first game, I still felt motivated to see the story through to find out why she went rogue. And, loving the Squid Sisters already, there was a hope in me that she could be redeemed, or at least understood. In terms of building off the prior game’s story, Splatoon 2 is moderately decent.

Also, I mean, c’mon. The big narrative drive might be a tad predictable, but hey, this game is for kids. It’s fine.

That, I think, is something I love the most about Splatoon. Despite feeling like you’re playing in a Saturday morning cartoon, and being aimed primarily at children, it doesn’t shy away from fairly heavy subjects. Such as the aforementioned fact that the humans are all long dead and you’re basically playing paintball in the ruins of their consumerist culture.

Which brings me to what fascinates me so much about Splatoon 2: the way in which Salmon Run is framed.

You see, on the surface, Salmon Run appears to be your typical horde mode; a cooperative team (typically comprised of randoms) fights off gaggles of foes as they take turns approaching their base in waves. Pretty standard for online shooters these days, as was modernly popularized by Gears of War 2, and Halo ODST.

I say “modernly,” as the notion of fighting enemies as they approach in waves is not exactly a new concept for mechanical goals within video games. Rather, the term itself, as applied to multiplayer shooters, “horde mode,” became a point of game discussion when Gears of War 2 introduced the new game mode by that same name back in… 2008?

No, no that can’t be right. I played Gears 2 back in high school (I had worse taste back then, okay?). Which, from my perspective, was basically yesterday. That game being ten years old would mean I myself am old now, and that just can’t be. I’m hip. I’m young.

I am, to stay on theme here, fresh.

But okay, existential crises and game talk terms aside, the writing team behind Splatoon 2 probably decided to absolutely flex when it came to the narrative surrounding Salmon Run. It is one of the most gleaming examples of the nontraditional things you can do with writing in video games, to really elevate the experience.

Let me explain.

You see, narrative in video games typically falls into one of two categories: either the story sits comfortably inside of the game, utilizing it like a vehicle to arrive at the destination that is its audience’s waiting eyes and ears. Or the narrative, on some level, exists rather nebulously, primarily to provide something resembling context for why the pixels look the way they do, and why the goals are what they are.

Not to say this is a binary state of existence for game writing; narrative will of course always provide context for characters, should there be any. It’s primarily older, or retro games that give you a pamphlet or brief intro with little in the way of worrying over character motivation, and the deeper philosophical implications of the plot, etc (though not for lack of trying). These would be your classic Mario Bros. and what have you, where the actual game part of the video game is nearly all there is to explore in the overall experience.

Then you have games like Hotline Miami that purposely sets up shop right in the middle to make a meta commentary about the state of game narrative, using the ideological endpoint of violent 80’s era action and revenge-fantasy genre film as inspiration and the starting point to draw comparison between the two. It’s bizarre, and I could drone on about this topic.

But I digress.

Despite falling into that latter category, that is to say having mainly just an introduction to the narrative context so you can get on with playing the game, Salmon Run is a stellar example of how you can make every bit of that context count (even if it does require the added context of the rest of the game, sort of, which I’ll explain, trust me).

First, a (very) brief explanation of how the game itself works, for the maybe three of you who haven’t played it yet.

A team of up to four inklings (and/or octolings) have a small island out in open waters. Salmonid enemies storm the beaches from various angles in waves. Each wave also comes with (at least) one of eight unique boss variants, who all drop three golden eggs upon defeat. Players are tasked with gathering a number of said golden eggs each round, for three rounds, after which their failure or success in doing so shows slow or fast progress towards in-game rewards.

And it’s all an allegory for the poor treatment of labor/workers, utilizing the fishing industry as both an example and a thematically appropriate analogue. Yes, I’m serious.

First, Salmon Run is not available through the main doors like the other multiplayer modes. Rather, it is off to the side, down a dingy looking alley. And when you’re shown its location, either because you finally entered the Inkopolis plaza for the first time, or because the mode has entered rotation again, Marina very expressly describes it as a job.

A job you should only do if you are absolutely, desperately hard strapped for cash. You know, the sort of job you turn to if, for one reason or another, you can’t find a better one.

An aside: technically, playing Salmon Run does not automatically net you in-game currency, with which to buy things, as regular multiplayer modes do. Rather, your “pay” is a gauge you fill by playing, which comes with reward drops at certain thresholds; some randomized gacha style capsules, and one specific piece of gear which gets advertised, to incentivize playing.

The capsules themselves drop actual paychecks in the form of aforementioned currency, or meal tickets to get temporary buffs that help you progress in the multiplayer faster via one way or another. Which, hey, you know, that helps you earn more money also. Working to get “paid,” so you can get things you want, though, still works perfectly for the metaphor it creates.

When I first saw it open up for rotation, I found out you had to be at least a level four to participate. Pretty par for the course, considering it’s the same deal with the gear shops. But, again, it’s all in the presentation; Mr. Grizz does not simply say something akin to the usual “you must be this tall to ride.” He says he cannot hire inexperienced inklings such as yourself, because it’s a legal liability.

After returning with three extra levels, I was handed off to basic, on-the-job training. Which is only offered after Mr. Grizz (not ever physically present, mind you, but communicating with you via radio), the head of Grizzco, uses fairly typical hard sell rhetoric when it comes to dangerous, or otherwise undesirable work: calls you kid, talks about shaping the future and making the world a better place, refers to new hires as “fresh young talent,” says you’ll be “a part of something bigger than yourself.” You know, the usual balancing act of flattery, with just the right amount of belittlement.

Whoa, hang on, sorry; just had a bad case of deja vu from when the recruiter that worked with the ROTC back in high school tried to get me to enlist… several times… Guess he saw the hippie glasses and long hair and figured I'd be a gratifying challenge.

The fisher imagery really kicks in when you play. Which, I figure a dev team working out of Japan might have a pretty decent frame of reference for that. A boat whisks you out to sea with your team, and everyone’s given a matching uniform involving a bright orange jumper, and rubber boots and gloves. If you've ever seen the viral video of the fisherman up to his waist in water telling you not to give up, you have a rough idea. Oh, and don't forget your official Grizzco trademark hats.

It’s on the job itself where a lot of what I'm talking about comes up the most; that is to say, despite buttering you up initially, Mr. Grizz shows his true colors pretty quickly. While playing, he seems to only be concerned with egg collecting, even when his employees are actively hurting. This is established and compounded by his dialogue prior to the intermediate training level, in which informs you about the various boss fish.

Before you can do anything remotely risky, even boss salmonid training, Mr. Grizz tells you he has to go over this 338 page workplace health and safety manual with you. But, oops, the new hire boat sounds the horn as you flip to page 1, so he sends you off unprepared. “Let’s just say you’ve read it,” he tells you, insisting that learning by doing is best.

This flagrant disregard employee safety, in the name of met quotas; the fact we never see Mr. Grizz face to face, making him this vague presence that presides over you, evaluating your stressed performance with condescension; that we are not simply given the rewards as we pass thresholds to earn them, having to instead speak with another, unknown npc for our pay… It all drives toward the point so well.

The icing on the cake for me is when a match ends. You, the player, are not asked if you’d like to go back into matchmaking for another fun round of playtime. Rather, you are asked if you would like to “work another shift.”

The pieces all fit so well together. I shouldn’t be surprised that, once a theme is chosen, Splatoon can stick to it like my hand to rubber cement that one time. It has already proven it can do that much for sure. But it’s just so… funny? It’s bitterly, cynically hilarious.

Bless the individual(s) who sat in front of their keyboard, staring at the early script drafts, and asked aloud if they were really about to turn Mr. Grizz into a projection of all the worst aspects of the awful bosses they’ve had to deal with in life. The answer to that question being “yes” has led to some of my favorite writing in a video game.

All of these thoughts, as they started forming in my skull, really began to bubble when I noticed Salmon Run shifts become available during my first Splatfest.

Splatfest is, to try and put it in realistic terms, basically a huge, celebratory sporting event. Participation nets you a free commemorative t-shirt and access to a pumping concert featuring some of the hottest artists currently gracing the Inkopolis charts.

The idea, the notion, that a hip young inkling (or octoling) might miss out on one of the biggest parties of the year because they need money more than they need fun? It’s downright depressing.

It got me thinking. I looked at my fellow egg collectors. In-universe, we were a bunch of teen-to-young-adult aged denizens missing out on all the fun because we desperately needed the cash. We became stressed together, overworked together, yelled at by our boss together. But in those sweetest victories, where we’d far surpassed our quota? We celebrated together.

Spam-crouching, and mashing the taunt, something changed. I felt a greater sense of comradery with these squids and octos than I did in nearly any other coop game. And it’s all thanks to the rhetorical framing of the game mode.

It accomplishes so many things. It’s world building which wholistically immerses you in the setting. But mainly, its dedication to highly specific word choice does exactly what I mentioned earlier: it elevates the experience to one I could really sit down and think about, rather than use to while away the hours, then move on to something else. So many games make horde modes that feel inconsequential like that; it’s just for fun.

There’s nothing wrong with fun being the only mission statement for a game, or an optional mode of play. But this is exactly what I mean when I say this is the nontraditional writing games can do so much more with. And Splatoon 2 saw that opportunity, and took it. And what a fantastic example of bittersweet, cold reality, in this, a bright, colorful game meant mainly for children…

Happy Holidays, everyone!

#Rabbot Reviews #video games #review #Splatoon 2 #Salmon Run #narrative #framing

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featherwurm · 6 years ago

Photo

What would happen if McMenamin's owned the Winchester Mystery House, still occupied by its batty creator, who had acquired strange and bizarre artifacts throughout her long life, even more than the Mystery Shack, and continued on her mad construction? How would such a place run?

Here’s a dream I had the other night.

Along the Oregon coast, just south of Astoria, there are some 500+ acres of utterly untouched wilderness, once owned by what is now described as a madwoman. I say untouched, but there is a building deep within the heart of it, a giant rambling construction dictated only by the whims of a spiritualist trying to avoid the wrath of a self-imposed curse. She filled this building with her long lifetime's worth of artifacts, bizarre and arcane, filled with spirits and spiritual energies beyond the ability of any one person to control. It would sound the start of some great horror story or murder mystery but no, what the hotel chain that bought it out saw was a financial opportunity.

It is a grand establishment, with so many secret passages, bizarre architectural flourishes, ghosts, and utterly eccentric décor and effects it couldn't be anything but one of the most fascinating establishments in all of Oregon. It's original owner, now into her hundreds has stayed on living there, as part of the purchase agreement. She is allowed to continue her procurement of magic and unusual artifacts, and so long as the hotel can operate, continue her rambling construction (never ending, to stave of that which she fears hunts her). The hotel chain has fixed up the place a treat, covering it in beautiful artwork, adding amenities galore, and making it an incredible destination. But it wasn't a purchase without risk.

The place is deeply haunted. Like a spiritual magnet, it has drawn all sorts of entities, ghostly, magical, arcane, and otherwise, to it. While many of these apparitions are harmless and only add to the allure, some are very dangerous, and could cause trouble for patrons. Therefore, in addition to the usual hotel, restaurant, and sales staff of front desk, office managers, cooks, housekeeping, bartenders, servers, sales associates, and so on, there are three classes of spiritual workers employed:

Exorcists – Considered the most important (or at least the most self-important) these workers are the last to deal with any given situation. Through their spiritual and magical prowess they are capable of purging magical entities from our dimension back to their home plane. Their work is violent and dangerous, and they oversee the care and maintenance of the spiritual energy of the building – never too much, always just enough.

Brutes – Below the Exorcists are the Brutes, the physical bouncers of this ghostly place. They are, through grace or training, able to physically beat the stuffing out of anything magical or ectoplasmic that comes their way. When more severe means aren't needed, they pitch out the ghostly riff-raff.

Empaths – Considered the most lowly of the spiritualists, these people, through their own skills are able to diffuse conflict with ghosts and other magical entities. They are first to be called, and are the ones with the most paperwork to deal with as they ensure that any claim of malicious spiritual activity is, in fact, ghosts and not rowdy patrons. They are the talkers of the bunch, and work to peaceful resolutions of conflict, moving artifacts when needed to cleanse their energies, finding out the requests and needs of ghosts that are reasonable to work with, and meeting them, and otherwise working to keep the prestige of the strange nature of the place while avoiding conflict between the mundane and the magical.

I work as an Empath. I have, throughout my life, been privy and partial to the strange, and yet, generally most sympathetic to it. I find no need to kill the spiders in my home, but to find the best means that we can all live together. I, along with my fellows, am considered soft, but valuable at least. Although I deal with a lot of paperwork, constantly writing and filing reports of minor spiritual mischief and ensuring that it is dealt with or moved up the chain accordingly. Patrons sign a waiver which states that if they attribute ghosts to their own wrongdoings, they are subject to significant fines, and follow up on those thankfully isn't my job, but I do have to ensure that everything in that regard is written up correctly if the Exorcists find no spiritual causes of destruction.

All of us spiritualists have a particular sort of uniform. We all – no matter our class, wear the same clothes, meant to protect us from malicious entities; heavy boots with iron toes, a black jumpsuit with copper piping details, thick leather gloves, bags and satchels full of our various effects. It is both practical, and meant to keep us as indistinguishable from one another as possible, apart from the mask, which is unique to any of us, and can be dropped or traded off at any point to prevent further distinction among us in a crisis situation (you might know the one with the elk skull did something, but now there are just six humans in the room). Sometimes you need to be one of many – sometimes you need to stand out to avoid dangerous spiritual situations, and this is the best compromise so far.

Each mask is generally skeletal in form, and made of a light and robust material. It comprises a breathing apparatus in the front, which may be needed if an entity turns particularly hostile, or if work is needed in the pools and lake on the grounds. Decorated with arcane symbols, there is some personalization allowed here, as the form must follow function, and each spiritual worker has their own little means of making it through the labyrinth of magical manipulation.

For all I am on a low rung and do more paperwork than I care for, I do enjoy my job. The facilities are amazing, exciting, and unique, and even after a long hard day of work, they still provide surprises and enjoyment for most of us working here. The building's original owner is fascinating, and there are seemingly no end to the magical creatures, artifacts, and events one might encounter on a daily basis. The grounds are lush and extensive, and we are allowed use of them within reason, wandering the gardens or trekking through the libraries and museum-like portions of the building are always soothing on the nerves.

The woods are full of fair folk, drawn to the ancient and untouched wilderness beyond the hotel grounds, and they are as fascinating and beautiful as one would expect. They glitter in a myriad of colors, and have the lingering countenance and bearing of wild animals in their 'human' forms. They look different from us, yet compelling. We've found so long as you don't eat their food or give them your name they are harmless to us, and sometimes will even enjoy our company. It's generally considered a right of passage among the folk working here to have some sort of close encounter with them. Some get a bit caught up in this; as time slows among the fair folk, your 15 minute break might turn into a long screw and a good nap if you time things out right, and you won't even be late back to work.

My fiance works as a bartender here, both to the human patrons and serving the spirits of spirits to the spirits. Ghosts may not pay well (they don't have to, running a bar for those that drink the actual alcohol is profitable enough) but they do tip strange. Any number of kinds of currency, barter, or artifacts may show up in the jar when you serve them. There have been a few previous bartenders and servers who have retired happily at an early age due to a particularly generous patron. We're trying not to directly hope – it's all up to chance, but you never know. We have acquired an alarming number of teeth though. They'll probably turn into an art project.

I've not been working here as long as my fiance, but I've been working long enough to become pretty well accustomed to my job. In any given day I'll make my rounds, investigate anything I've been delegated based on customer complaint, speak with whatever entities and creatures I can work with, and file the relevant paperwork. Even for my rank I'm toward the bottom, and I receive the more simple and often dull jobs. Most of what I work with is the leftovers of rowdy patrons, chasing unicorns out of the gardens (they're goats... they're fancy goats), and patrolling the lesser haunted halls and ensuring the usual activities are up to snuff (moving pictures, floating candles, hot and cold spots, vaguely disquieting noises, the usual. In addition to asking ghosts to leave, we also ask them to step up their act at times too). I know it will get more involved with time, and I have patience.

It's one day when I'm almost off my shift and I'm being harassed by a Brute about how I've filed my paperwork for the day in regards to some patrons who have broken a stored Christmas tree and attributed it to ghosts (I KNOW I've done it correctly, don't tell me how to do my job when the only paperwork you have to file is 'found relevant ghost, punched it in face, it left') that we all get a very interesting call over our coms. We're asked to assemble in the attic space (one of many) where an Egyptian Sarcophagus has been kept for almost as long as the building has been around. The Brute and I are closest, and therefore I'm handed a job I'm not sure is entirely within my scope.

It would seem the eclectic owner has had some sort of epiphany recently, and desires the sarcophagus, it's effects and its contents to be moved to a new area of the building, however, it's occupant, a mummy of the 6th dynasty, has been rousted by the move. He is not in a bad mood, but is stalling movement awaiting someone to hear out his demands. While this would often be an Exorcists work, he is peaceful in his protest, and I'm the first Empath to get there. He is almost immediately forthcoming with me – he wants to go home. He doesn’t belong here, and never did, of course, and has been quiet and patient but enough is too much and he's quite done. There is, as I convey this to those around me, the immediate question of how much of the very valuable artifacts associated with him he will take with, I see greed in the eyes of the managers I work with, but... it is all for naught. He doesn’t want anything but to go, not to move on, but simply to go back to Egypt and find his way there. Having not moved on as expected, he would at least like to go somewhere which must be somewhat more familiar. He knows time has passed, but he can't simply wait around as an exhibit for whatever is to happen to him next.

It is surprising to see such animation – he has not been active ever, to anyone's knowledge, yet speaking here amongst us he begins to take back the trappings of life. He is between, we understand him for he is not living, and the language of death is universal, but he is not a ghost either, a living construct. If what inhabits him now is the same spirit he had living, or if he has simply taken on a life of his own in death is unclear, but there are physical flashes in his withered form of the person he once was. There is some hemming an hawing, a real live mummy after all, but it is agreed that I am to serve as diplomat, as he has immediately taken to my straightforward and curious way of speaking to him, and get him on home, wherever that may be, expenses paid, of course (it is definitely good PR to return artifacts of certain provenance to their homelands, no one is so pig-headedly greedy here as to not see that). The hotel has had to deal with reparations before, not all artifacts here were attained through legitimate or kind means, and this, well, if only the being wishes to go, and the rest is still up to the estate here, it can be managed. It's a frustratingly corporate world, and this is beyond anything I've dealt with, but I'm ready to make do.

With my fiance, a mummy, and my spiritualist know-how, we're somehow going to navigate all this to a better end, and, eventually, get back to work.

#Dream #Sketch #Concept #Art #Personal #Ghost #Spirit #Spiritualist #Empath

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curupiracue · 6 years ago

Text

A Bunch of Unimportant Ramdomness

...That was odd.

It’s true that I, Ienorb Yenruoj escaped with my life thanks to a sudden evolution in my methods… However. There is something quite strange about these events.

First they wanted me away… And then I was attacked. And that person attacked alone: it took a while before those two went after me. A conflict of plans, of interests? Then the three were not working together.

That is good and all, but what about now?

If they didn’t know each other, then they’re definitely working together now. Almost a 100% guaranteed. But… Could it really be, a duo of incredibly powerful psychics discovering evidence of my crimes at the same time another psychic does the same? Or could it be that the second one was just passing by? That doesn’t seem very likely either…

Which means they probably did know each other, but there is some sort of conflict between them that stopped cooperation. Though, well, now that they experienced first hand the consequences of not working together, it might be that they decided to form an alliance… I really can’t say without knowing more.

“And I won’t be able to know more, because they’ve got me cornered in that sense...”

Thank goodness I decided to check that crow and kill it. I couldn’t really see much, but now that I know all about what’s presumably that woman’s construction, I understand my situation much better. Though I ran away, it should be the opposite: since the more time passes, the more they (or at least she) will discover about me, and the more at a disadvantage I’ll be, it should be best to stop them dead on their tracks right now.

Of course, I’m shaking in fear, quite literally. Perhaps because of that, I decided to give it a day or two. Thought it’s also because, if they’re working begrudgingly… then it’s possible that they won’t be staying together.

If so, there is my chance. All I need to do is go after those two… not only do I know where they live already, but I also admit that a bout against that woman is not something that I look forward to.

“But… If they prove too strong… Then I’ll need a plan b. And for that...”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

“...Wake up, sleepyhead.”

(dreaming...)

“Hey! Nim! Wake up already!”

AAAAGGHGGGGGHGHGHHHHHHHHHHHHRRR!!!

“Ugghhhh… What time is it…?”

“Doesn’t matter. It-”

“If it doesn’t, I can go back to sleep… ahhh...”

“...We have things to do.”

“Uuuuuh… Goddammit...”

Novalue sat in the bed besides me and caressed my hair.

“(sigh...) Come on. You’re taking even more time than I do getting out of bed.”

“Mmmm… fine...” I replied, feeling as if my head was about to burst open, and someone punched me in the stomach. Also, heavy eyelids, but that is SO cliché.

“Hey, Novalue, can you like, open the window?”

“Sure.”

His action was followed by the radiant rays of the sun, alongside a most pristine breath.

“...Lindíssimo!” I said, looking through the window.

“...Stop referencing Dom Casmurro and get out of bed.”

“Oook~ But like… What’s the thing we have to do again...?”

Novalue seemed as if he could facepalm, but then suddenly figured it would be too much of a bother, and just stared blankly at me before answering:

“We’re meeting up with Wims to hear ab-”

“Oh, fuck no!”

“Wh-”

“Yeah, you’re going alone. See- ciao, adios! Hell, why did you even wake me up?! For fuck’s sake! UGH!”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

...Unreasonable, as always. I thought, while reminiscing over the events of the morning.

...In retrospect, I should have seen this coming.

Well, not like I care.

“Yo!” I’m suddenly greeted by a familiar voice

“...Well, aren’t you in a good mood.” I turn towards it, finding Wims looking at me.

“Well, I don’t have to meet Mr. Imsogreat, so that is certainly a reason.”

“Oh, good. I thought someone had died.”

Wims grimaced in response:

“Mind your tongue!” She said, clearly having took umbrage.

“Journalism is the work of gods! To spread the truth is like a sacred duty passed through universities by those who had mastered it! Life is just one big flow of events, and a society is a flow comprised of all the minor flows of the people living on it! It’s impossible, IMPOSSIBLE I say, to be able to witness the TRUE flow of a society, even when looking at large scale events! However, if you look at the individual flows of enough people living in it, and sum them up, then you’ll be able to reach it! A complete understanding! It’s got nothing to do with merely looking for drama and polemic like a damn vulture!” She then promptly summoned a guitar Hallucinogen, and started playing it:

“We are the fourth power, we rule this world!”

“Ever since people started talking, everything has whirled!”

“But some may seek it, a truth most priiiistiiiiine!”

“And among all of these, I’m the indisputable queen!”

“Oooooooooh YEAAH!”

(Guitar solo)

“Just try and stop it, the endless flow!”

“Fucking hell, go ahead and make a row!”

“But sorry to say this is the status quo!”

“Compared to information, you’re all slow!”

“Slow slow slow slow!”

“To be a journalist, one must dare to be a badass.”

“And this is a test, that not all may pass!”

“Countless obstacles await you...”

“If you wish to be part of the highest class!”

“Journalism! IS! Awesome! Journalism! IS! Awesome! Journalism! IS! Awesome! Journalism! IS! Awesome! WOO-HOOO!!”

…Wow.

“Did you write the lyrics beforehand?”

“Course not, dumbass. I’m a goddess, no, more than that, I’m an entity gods and goddesses envy. Improvising these was child’s play.”

“Ugh… Please, just… stop. It’s bad enough when it’s Nim, but now I have to deal with another egocentric...”

“Bah. We’re different types of egocentric, sucker.”

“Yes, and I much prefer his.”

Wims glared at me for a moment before shrugging.

“Well, look at me. Can’t even stop myself from picking a fight with you. How am I gonna’ cooperate with you two like that? I guess it’s better to just skip straight to business.”

“Indeed.”

“So. I’ve been getting lots of suspicious activities with my crows, but… that’s all par for the course. When I go to read the memories of those involved with Film Tape, I don’t get anything related to the killer.”

“Don’t you know of a little thing called “privacy”?”

“Don’t you know of a little thing called “bullshit”? Anyways, I don’t really have much to report… though that in itself is a report. Seems as if the killer is scared of us.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s good.”

“Because it isn’t. But it’s not all bad either: I’ll find him, eventually, but surely. And without a escape route, he’s doomed.”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

I, Ienorb Yenruoj, am walking towards work.

...Then all of a sudden, I pass through a trash can, and slip on a banana heel, falling inside.

“WAAAAAAUGH! FUCK!”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

“Meaning… There are two worst case scenarios. ...If he manages to do something while you’re not looking… or if he decides to attack us suddenly.”

“The first case is possible, but too unlikely. He won’t want to risk himself, and if he does, it’s highly likely I’ll catch him, since I have crows at most points of interest of this city… As for the second one...”

...Yeah.

It can’t possibly work. The obvious counter-measure.

“If we stayed together, the killer would be the least of our worries.”

“Yuuuuup. Glad you’re understanding… Incidentally...”

“?”

“Can’t you track him?”

“...Even a homing missile needs to have a target set.”

“Pfff, useless as always.”

“Yes, perhaps.”

Unexpectedly, Wims seemed to feel a bit bad.

“Oh, come on. Don’t say that. You’re an amazing person, and not a dick.”

I simply shrugged. This wouldn’t lead me anywhere.

“There’s something else that I wanted to ask you.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have a crow around us?”

“Nah, I don’t. Ni- that stupid little shit, I mean, already does the crow’s job, and probably better. Or… are you saying you two would need my help?”

“I wasn’t saying anything. I merely asked.”

“Hah. Well… anyways, I don’t have enough crows for that. I need to spread them out and keep them as sentinels at various points, as well as have them conduct ordinary research. Speaking of that, Shiva found a demolition man slacking off on his job to go have sex.”

“Why is that important?”

“Well, it tried to peck the guy to death, as usual, and I had to stop it.”

“...Again, why is that important?”

“Ah, whatevs. Go away, shoo. Gotta’ feed some crows.”

Craa!

“See? I bet Nim’s waiting for you, too.”

(Time passes...)

“Oh hey!” Nim greeted me.

He was enjoying the armchair while drinking what I think was grape juice. Though, once he saw me, he immediately went out of his relaxed position. Almost seemed like he would get up.

“I’m back. Nothing new, before you ask.”

Nim frowned.

“Man, c’est una desgraça. How much time will grand me have to wait before I get to the most awesome interview ever?”

“If I’m going to be honest…” I start saying while I sit in the armchair “I think you already did it that one time with radio host. You’re not topping that.” Nim perked up:

“Mm! True that. Hey, want some juice?”

“...You know I hate grapes.”

“...And I also know that my knowledge of the gustatory arts is ultimate and supreme. Here, drink!”

“Sigh… Fine- ! ...!” Nim suddenly forced the cup on my lips “...Huh. Ignoring you being you being you, that was actually pretty good...”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

“Viu? I told you, Novalue. Jeez, I’d figure eating my cooking every day would create an- H-Hey, don’t drink it all! I wanna’ drink too!”

“? You’ve already drank thou-”

“Shut up!” I picked the cup out of his hands and downed the rest of the juice. “Pronto! Nada más, nihil grape juice! Now let’s get to work!”

“It isn’t work, though?”

“Novalue, do you want me to defenestrate you?”

“Hah.” He gave his usual joyless, poker faced laugh “Should I start boarding up the windows?”

“No, you should start stopping the string of stupid dumb shit coming out of your mouth just to tease me!”

“Nah. You’re adorable when you’re mad. ...Well.” He added in consideration “Assuming you’re not ACTUALLY mad.”

“I am gonna’ be, if you keep this u-gah!” Suddenly, he hugged me.

“See? Not mad anymore.”

“...That’s cheating.”

“When you’re actually mad, this doesn’t work. So, not really cheating.” he said, letting go of the hug to my disappointment.

“Anyway…! We should get going. Though we don’t have a construction useful for this, we still need to prove our superiority! March!”

“Where to, though?”

I opened the door, jumped outside, opening my arms and laughing maniacally.

“Worry not, my little disciple! For I, the great Nim, whose greatness is uninterrupt, devoid of any and all transience, have a ploy that will breach the heavens, teaching to all who is the almighty being in this world, and striking a most deep fear in the depths of that vile killer’s mind!”

“...What’s your plan?”

“Secret~ Just follow meeeee~!”

I could tell Novalue was bothered, but he still followed me when I started walking.

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

I could tell that Nim could tell that I was bothered, and he probably could tell that I could tell that. Yet he still went on walking… Sigh… So selfish…

Well, for now, I might as well follow him.

On our way, we passed through a large building which I barely recognized. And just a few more steps afterwards, we came face-to-face with a man.

He was of average, though quite healthy build, with above average height. Blond hair and green eyes, the very epitome of bishounen, wearing an ordinary white suit, a striped green and red tie, a wristwatch and a horrified expression.

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

...Oh…?

This is…

“Hey, you’re the killer, right?” I asked. In response, the man dropped his jaw even more and ran away. “Yup, sure is~ So, Novalue, let’s drop the ploy that will breach the heavens, teaching to all who is the almighty being in this world, and striking a most deep fear in the depths of that vile killer’s mind and instead run after him!” I started running after the killer, but a hand grabbed me:

“Hold on. Shouldn’t we communicate with Wims?”

Communicate with her… Neither of us has her cellphone number (if she even uses one) and any psychic messages will be too flimsy and random: these can probably be intercepted by the killer, and he could even use them to pinpoint her location.

A crow? But, alas, there were neither a crow nor a drunkard in sight.

“Damn. Guess not.” Novalue said, having followed my train of thought and started running after the killer.

“H-Hold on!”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

...Out of all the moments! Out of ALL the moments!

But then again… This could be good. I’ll have my opportunity to take them out. I might be a little inexperienced in combat, but I’m stronger than both of them. And inexperienced I may be, but uncreative I am not. Just wait and see… I won’t be running away to escape you… I’ll be running away to make sure you can’t escape me…

I already have a plan. And the first step…

...Is to enter this apartment building uninvited!

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

“Where is he?”

“D-Dumba-”

“Save your breath.”

“...He went... in there...” ...How… How the hell can people keep this up…?

“That apartment? That’s odd...”

We bust the front door open and looked at the attendant.

“Wher-” Novalue started.

“Upstairs, room 216” I finished for him.

“I know it’s efficient, but you sure are lax with mind reading...”

“Shuuush. He can’t... escape now...!” Then again… Why would he come here if he can’t escape? ...Better stay cautious…

We ran up the stairs, with me feeling like I would collapse at any moment, although, mercifully enough, room 216 was just after a turn in the corridor near the stairway. I could also feel a presence inside it, and the door was evidently unlocked. With that obvious fact, Novalue moved his hand towards the doorknob… but…

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

I put my hand on the doorknob to open the door, but I am suddenly interrupted by a screaming Nim:

“Don't!” I looked at him to find his face filled with panic “That doorknob is a trap!”

I look back at the doorknob, confused, and find that the doorknob was actually a knife.

And looking back at my fingers, I discover that they were bleeding.

“...What...? ...He... Took out the doorknob, put a knife on the then empty hole and created an illusion…”

“Yeah... I only realized it because of the design. The door had a very distinct design that was quite famous 40 years back, but the doorknob, while following the design, was flawed. The lines were too thick, and it's body too big…”

Perceptive. But more impressively...

“...Though he could only do it because it was a small sensorial thing, he still infiltrated an illusion on our minds... What power... And this knife... Looks like a pretty sharp butcher knife. If you hadn't warned me... I might have lost these four fingers…”

“Yeah, no shit dumbass! Try and pay more attention for fuck's sake! I'd pummel your head in if that were any other situation!”

...Yeah, as if. Still, he's got a point... This serial killer is way more than I bargained for. I can't keep underestimating him...

“What? You worried?” ...though that wouldn’t stop me from having fun.

“I’m not worried! You should be worried! UGH, shut up!”

“Um, if you didn’t fall for my trap, can you get a move on? It’s not really time for romance and all, and I’m afraid I might end up being late to my night shift...” we could hear the serial killer’s voice coming from the other side of the door.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Oh, shut up!”

#stories #Mywhatamentalworld

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askalucario-blog · 6 years ago

Photo

Caption: ‘yule’ when finished, Kennedy gives each of the masks a name and completes the project by posting an image online images courtesy of the artist.

Damselfrau interview: a peek behind the many masks of the London-based artist

if you somehow stumbled accidentally upon the work of Norwegian artist damselfrau, you’d be forgiven for thinking you had unearthed a cache of ancient vestments; something mystical, arcane—maybe even occult. defined by intricate beadwork, delicate lace and bold, bright color, damselfrau’s masks are at once visually arresting and bewitchingly unsettling. beautifully reshaping the face of the wearer, her work is laden with character, suggesting not just individual personalities, but whole narratives, histories, and worlds of their own.

the name ‘damselfrau’ is inherently contradictory. while ‘frau’ is a term used for married women, ‘damsel’ denotes one who is unmarried. combined, they form the paradoxical and provocative pseudonym adopted by artist magnhild kennedy—originally as a skype username, now as a professional alias—that she likes to interpret as ‘married to oneself’. it’s a fitting mantle for an artist who has become renowned for her masks; a craft that involves placing another ‘self’ on top of your own, creating both a combination of the two and suggesting something entirely new altogether.

damselfrau masks in vogue portugal, ‘the bold side of christmas’image by vasily agreneko, styling by pierre-alexandre fillaire

originally from trondheim in norway, damselfrau moved to london in 2007. while both of her parents are artists, she herself never formally trained. rather, kennedy’s practice originated somewhere a little less conventional: the dance floors of london’s nightclubs. working at a vintage designer shop in islington at the time, kennedy drew inspiration from the collection of clothes around her and was able to sew her own pieces behind the counter, which she would then wear clubbing. eye-catching, eccentric and strangely seductive, it’s no wonder that mask quickly became her craft of choice.

since then, damselfrau has made pieces for artists like mø and beyoncé, and collaborated with alister mackie and louis vuitton. beads, glass, lace, textiles, paint, hair, paper: everything and anything can be included in one of damselfrau’s creations. rather than chaos however, the result is one of organic artistry. ‘for me the mask is a place where different elements come together as situation,’ she says in her artist’s statement. ‘the work is about this place-situation, more so than the mask as a theme or category of form. the mask is a place’. livened by the found nature of the materials that comprise them, damselfrau’s masks perfectly walk the line between being delicate artworks of visual poetry and ghostly uniforms for the mystical.

damselfrau’s intricate gold face piece can be spotted at the start of this music video for mø’s track ‘kamikaze’

designboom spoke with the artist recently about her journey toward mask making, the best spots in london to find new materials, and her plans for the new year.

designboom: you come from a particularly artistic family. what was your own personal journey like as an artist in light of this? do you remember the first time you sat down and said, ‘right, I’m going to make a mask’? how did it turn out?

magnhild kennedy: I came to myself quite late. I’ve always made various types of stuff, but nothing good. I’ve known since I was a teen that I was going to have to head to london at some point, but it didn’t happen until I was in my late 20’s. I have no idea how masks became the format for me, I’m not particularly interested in masks as a category. I worked in a vintage design shop when I first moved here. looking at the old clothes, their details and decor gave me some insight into making. I went to car-boot sales every weekend to find utilities for our new life here, and started schlepping home all kinds of funny materials, textiles and bits I found there.

I had to do something with all these materials. it started with making masks for a party and the format stuck. from there it just grew slowly and organically. five years ago my husband robert started dalston pier studio. I got myself a proper work shop there and felt it was the time take it seriously. I felt like an imposter for the longest time. I’m self taught, I didn’t go to school past the age of 19. but growing up with two artist parents, it’s been schooling from day one

DB: you work a lot in found textiles and have spoken about picking up materials in car boot sales and the like. what is the strangest place you’ve ever found material for a mask, and when working on a new piece, do you have a go-to place in london to start looking for inspiration?

MK: I find things everywhere, I have picked fruit netting out of bins. one christmas in paris, they decorated the trees of the champs-élysées with plastic crystals. rouge ones had fallen off and been stepped into the dirt pavement and I scratched out pocket fulls. I’ve picked gold confetti off the floor at alternative miss world. friends bring me things from their travels too. a friend gave me a norwegian 1700’s hair wreath, a japanese friend gave me an antique geisha hair piece I crocheted into a mask. old tea towels. I’ll use whatever if it has personality.

just walking out the door is inspiration, really. I live in dalston. people from everywhere in the world, young and old. fashion kids. charity shops. I’ll go to sir john soane’s museum. the wallace collection. spitalfields on thursdays. dennis severs’ house. dover street market. a pub.

DB: how long does it usually take to finish a mask, and what is the longest you have ever worked on a single piece?

MK: anything from a day to forever! I have unfinished masks on my shelves that have been waiting for ‘something’ for months—years even. I’ll just have to wait until that right something comes along.

percifor’‘I felt like an imposter for the longest time…but growing up with two artist parents, it’s been schooling from day one’

DB: I know you originally made masks for clubbing in london. how has creating masks specifically for a club environment and club culture in general influenced the work you make? do you still wear your masks clubbing?

MK: it’s been a loooong time since I went clubbing! I might make myself something fun for halloween if I am going to some party. the ‘craft something from nothing’ element of the club culture was inspiring. what some people could make out of some egg carton, tape and paint, you know? there was no hierarchy amongst the materials. that is the main thing I learned that I have brought with me into the work.

‘uro’‘there was no hierarchy amongst the materials. that is the main thing (…) I have brought with me into the work’

DB: how do you personally feel when wearing one of your creations, and what do you hope the experience is for an onlooker?

MK: I don’t wear the masks much once they are done. I try my best not to make to many decisions for the masks. people see what they see. it’s none of my business!

DB: you have collaborated with a lot of really interesting people in the past. are there any artists you are particularly influenced by, or anyone you would love to work with in future?

MK: when I was a kid I saw moebius’ and enki bilal’s comics, and they definitely still inform what I do. I’m very interested in homes and how people surround themselves. I decorate a lot. I sew my own christmas ornaments. at the moment I am taken with the book ‘dawnridge’, about tony duquette’s wonderfully OTT home. he was an artist, film and set designer in hollywood. I like miniature model makers like charles matton and thierry bosquet.

I like spaces over-informed by the people who use them and live in them. I have always felt I work mostly like a decorator. my all time greatest obsession is versailles. I don’t have a particular person in mind, so my dream collab would definitely be with versailles.

DB: you often talk about your masks having a character and life of their own. how much of yourself do you see in each piece you make, or do you always see it as a separate entity from the start? what stage in the process does a mask’s character start to reveal itself, and what does that moment feel like?

MK: separate entity I think…it’s a kind of meditative state, making these things. i’m always surprised by what comes out and that I have made something. usually the character changes several times along the way. there are very few conscious choices taken along the way, or at least it feels like it.

I try to think as little as possible, really and just go by instinct. no overthinking. I have clear physical reactions in the brain to if something works or not. like two ant antennae meeting, releasing some warm spark. some severe chemical reaction, it’s totally a high.

DB: you have a strong presence on instagram and images of your work are understandably popular on sites like instagram and tumblr. how integral to your process is social media, and how has it impacted the way you make work, if at all?

MK: it’s a big part of the work. a mask isn’t finished until I have taken a portrait of it and sent it out on general internet high-ways like my instagram or blogspot. this way the mask makes a life of its own and communicates its own being. it’s how it has turned into actual work.

DB: are you working on anything at the moment you’d like to share with us, and what does 2019 hold for damselfrau?

MK: yes! I’m very excited. I have been invited to exhibit at the national museum of decorative arts trondheim in norway this september. it’s the first time I’ll show the masks in the flesh in norway, so it’s pretty grand for me. I used to visit this museum as a kid, I have strong feeling for this building. it’s surreal to be showing there. I am also working on an interesting project with queen mary university and designer rachel freire, incorporating technical fabrics and movement sensors with my masks. that’s a new universe for me—very cool.

DB: any personal mottos or words of wisdom you try to live by?

MK: ‘walk, don’t run’, as my dad always says.

#facemask

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twitchesandstitches · 6 years ago

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In the continuity of the crossovers, ficlets, original stuff and various AUs I like to write, I have an idea for the overall cosmology it takes place in. This is the multiverse, comprising the worlds characters might travel in and stranger realms from which magic and eldritch beings might originate, as well as many unique realms of no particular astral alignment but might make good plot hooks, brief adventures or sources of antagonists or treasures, or even answers relevant to a given story.

This cosmology is very much a work in progress and heavily inspired by a mess of different series - primarily the Great Wheel of 3rd Edition Dungeons and Dragons as seen in Planescape: Torment, aspects of 4th Edition D&D, whatever was going on in Exalted, and whatever else feels like an appropriate addition. Consequently any of this might change later on, and I welcome suggestions.

A few ground rules for how things work, on the scale of the regular universes the characters know. These are places that aren’t so different from the world we know.

On the current scene of things, the multiverse - and thus the casts - has only recently recovered from a catastrophic incident that occured about a thousand years ago, with brief flare ups resulting in further damage a little less than a hundred years ago. This has left many universes collapsed, arun with terrible monsters and destroyed civilizations; warbands of hopeful conquerors run rampant, and newly established societies struggle to gain a foothold, while roaming bands of nomads move from world to world. However, things are not all doom and gloom, as society is making a comeback and people are recovering, now exploring the ruins of the past to piece together what happened and restore lost technologies and arts.

The multiverse itself is still wounded; demons, cosmic horrors, world-eating abominations and mysterious entities of all kinds regularly invade the material realms and make a real nuisance of themselves.

The general tone is similar to Space Opera settings, with a dash of epic fantasy overlaid with sci fi aesthetics; grand and, well, operatic adventures in space, flying from planet to planet, battling with wicked warlords who command whole systems and entreating with ancient empires and vast galactic councils that all beings have a voice in. Battles and wars are fought with laser swords, rocket hammers and energy shields, with firearms shooting stuff like lightning, mini-rockets and chainsaw-grains instead of bullets. Power armor and mini mecha are ubiquitous among the more powerful factions, tending towards ‘mechanical exoskeletons’ in design.

Visually, as far as the stuff relevant to our characters is, the look is a little bit of a combination of post-cyberpunk space travel, with a hint of modern Mass Effect-style shininess, and a heavy dose of scavengerpunk. Spaceships are big, bulky, round and scarred by the ages. People wear leathers, hexagon-toned bodysuits, bulky spacesuit/exoskeletons, or whatever rags they can stitch together into something cool. (If you’ve ever seen Eclipse Phase artwork, you might get an idea.) Technology generally looks bulky, powerful and comically oversized for whatever it’s purpose is; evidently miniaturization was not in fashion before the big breakdown of things. Things mostly look like grand and glorious works of quasi-magical wonder, but worn down by the ages and scavenged, pasted back together and holding on with tape.

This is not universal, however. Certainly some newfound place of philosophy and enlightenment might harken to buildings of crystal spires that act as vast computers, the people wearing elegant lengths of cloth fashioned into togas and robes. The marauding warband trying to annoy them with loud music might wear bulky armor bolted together and painted red (BECAUSE IT GOES FASTER). And RIGHT NEXT to that, is a cyberpunk corporation world of gloomy spires, neon lights, and a lot of slots to plug your stuff into your body.

The overall technology level and series tone can be described as Warhammer 40k IF Mass Effect’s Paragon tone modified the setting to be less grimdark and stabby. (Alternatively, it USED to be super grimdark but the near destruction of all reality made things calm down a lot. All the people responsible for bad stuff got killed and the societies that enabled them were no longer relevant.) Minus the most destructive weaponry and world-buster bombs, barring caches of weaponry or automated factories that pragmatic factions or overeager warlords would just LOVE to have.

This translates roughly to a very high tech setting prior to the big catastrophe; technology capabilities are usually pretty good (to the point that space travel is pretty common for regular folks and not a national effort), but the most powerful and game-breaking things are the stuff of old civilizations, and are bitterly fought for and studied. Massive war ships that can destroy whole civilizations or legendary mech suits are irreplaceable and unique, because no one knows how they work or how to make more of them, due to the surrounding sciences no longer existing.

Modding. This refers to the use of biological alterations (mods, or biomods for more formal stuff), as well as slang for minor aesthetic alterations, and full on reshaping of someone’s body. This is EXTREMELY common in this setting, not just to enable hyper curves, gigantic sizes or other appropriate changes, but for more practical purposes. Someone might make themselves huge and with powerful muscles to be a better fighter, for instance, or alter their brain for greater thinking. Hyper fertility for one-woman population booms is also quite popular, linked to mega-curve changes. Often these alterations are NOT subtle in the slightest, and will show dramatic changes; how kink-related those might be is situational.

Modding also refers to cybernetics. In keeping with the aesthetics, these cybernetics might be polished or elegant, but they are rarely subtle. People don’t have tiny chips in their brains, they have huge bulky thinking engines fused to their brains in perfect harmony. Robot prosthetic limbs are massive, bulky and shimmering masses of machinery. Even synthetic muscle tissue WILL be pretty dang obvious, whether it be glowy, replace weaker organic muscles, or just be huge. Finally, cybernetics has no inherently negative effect just because it isn’t ‘natural’. Neither is sitting at a table looking at a phone or computer, but there you are! Any complications are strictly health-related, rather than innate or spiritual.

Now, to explain the fantasy-ish elements.

There are gods, and angels, and demons, and other beings. They exist far out in the multiverse, far from mortal dealings, and mostly they do their own thing. The affairs of mortals is not their main concern, but they do take an interest in us. Gods and similar beings take on different forms based on the cultures revering them, and they might be shaped by mortal belief, but there is a notable distinction between gods MADE from mortal belief, and those who exist apart from mortal relevance.

Magic is a thing. Specifically it follows the model of magic as just a thing that almost everyone can do, but it takes skill and training to do impressive stuff with it. An example: plenty of people have enough ability to, say, boost their skills to superhuman levels briefly or have great control over their body’s growth, but not everyone can throw a fireball. Typically people draw magical energy and shape it into various effects - perhaps forging it into one of a kind relics for ‘super science’ gadgetry - or more standard fantasy sorcery, with a hint of sci fi rationale to it. It can be understood and is rarely persecuted, and underlies a lot of the technological abilities in the setting. There is a distinction between arcane energy in its many forms, which is just the background essence of the cosmos, and divine magic, which is the raw power of genuine gods or spiritual powers, descending onto mortal believers and champions and empowering them.

Magic is hugely differentiated across the cosmos, and even in specific universes. It is heavily informed by culture and personal experience, and magic is more or less a power caused by emotion and perspective bleeding into the fabric of reality, backed up by energy and force of willpower, and shaping it. (Thus, magic is related to the soul; all beings that have souls can use magic, and using magic means you HAVE a soul.) In some places, you might have people who inherit influence over an element that their people are culturally tied to. In another, it might be a matter of academic study with little personal relevance. HAving them MEET can result in some interesting consequences for their abilities.

A soul, for that note, is the consequence of sapience and also sentience; self-awareness combined with the ability to say to the universe ‘I AM’. Clones, robots, self-aware golems, and every conceivable artificial being has as much of a soul as a naturally born human. They are people, and if it can ask ‘Do I have a soul’, then they do.

Many standards of sci fi, and indeed many archaic concepts (berserkers, knights, plate armor, weaponry of all sort and many varieties of ancient armor) are still quite present. However they are rendered with a sci fi aesthetic. Instead of knights, you have monastic orders of power armored warriors that rule as lords over regions. Instead of berserkers, you have ferocious warriors who have modded themselves

Some tech and sci fi thoughts:

As mentioned above, warfare is more similar to older forms of combat in the romantic tradition rather than modern notions of military action. This is partly because I find realistic warfare to be rather boring to really handle on its own. On a practical level, its harder to do it; one can’t just bomb your enemies into submission when targeting systems are difficult to figure out and you’re not really sure how they work except in the most arcane terms. (And they might be magical and can argue with you.) Modern military action CAN still happen, it’s just not an immediate option most of the time. Tanks, speedy jet-bikes, big time charges ad people gazing in awe as giant robots march into the field like living gods is definitely a feature here. Again, think of Warhammer 40k-style battles. Mechanized stuff is still relevant, as well. It is likely also televised and made into entertainment… which is super messed up.

Technology levels vary… a lot. In general it can be assumed that your standard space faring faction, band or society can produce their own spacecraft without relying on treasure troves of ancient relics or treasure hunts to find intact ships; this also implies intact understanding of relevant scientific fields. Thing might get iffier with things like energy-based weapons, advanced personal shields, or something, but they are still reasonably common. It’s usually a local question whether that means that such things can be made cheaply, or if there is a very large pre-collapse cache of them.

Magic involved with technology is very, very common. Cosmic internet that manifests as interconnected chains of psychic energy between populations, bizarre creations that only function because of their magical nature, the use of mental powers to safely navigate through mysterious realms or send telepathic messages to a distant world; all of these are reasonably common. Many groups may replace advanced scientific know-how with magical experimentation entirely, causing a great deal of diversity in individual tool use and fashions.

On that note: faster-than-light travel. It is a thing in universe (how else would you go from world to world to have fun adventures?) but it’s not easy. It is not simple and it can be very, very dangerous. There are a few different methods; phasing into other realms of existence to ignore the speed of light, as that rule won’t apply, is a common one, but this runs the risk of attracting the attention of potentially malicious cosmic horrors, and surging people up with magic, for all kinds of weird transformations. There is also the use of ancient artifacts that transport ships from one point to another, or complicated warp drives that do stuff to gravity at the cost of enormous fuel requirements. In general, this stuff can’t be weaponized, and its most common that public transit between the stars involves the cosmic equivalent of buses; people pack their ships into really large barges and go along for the ride, saving on costs.

Alien life. It’s there! It’s a big deal! And most of it doesn’t look like us, SERIOUSLY GUYS I HATE THE RUBBER FOREHEAD HUMAN TROPE SO MUCH IT CAN BURN IN A DITCH. Think in terms of Mass Effect or Animorphs alien designs for how distinct they can get. Alien races that are canonically similar to humans will likely either be reimagined as being derived from humanity or redesigned into something more appropriate to their homeworld or, if artificial, the circumstances of their creation.

Feel free to ask me about other stuff you might want to know, or should take into consideration for world building!

#/#//#///#////#/////#cosmology #write ups #twitchy ideas

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noivysneverland · 7 years ago

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Justice, Reborn; pt. 7

Well this was a long time coming. I was off and on working on a mod that would allow me to change battle formats for gym battles but instead it ended up being an unfixable bug-fulled mess that I have since shelved. Instead I have modified my particular game to have all trainers at level 100 and I will be going through an old X-League style run dating back to the old PO league rules. As such, I will be using a fixed team of pokemon and moves at level 100 with Gym Battles having up to three legendary pokemon. Gym, rival and major meteor battles will have EV trained pokemon. Now then with the game context out of the way-

I walked back to the interrogation room with Ame, who told me what I needed to know about Team Meteor. Their leadership is unknown, the organization is well funded through unknown mean, and their headquarters are just as well unknown. They have been attacking the city in its various locations for seemingly no reason, attacking primarily transportation hubs or areas that would normally have high commercial activity. Ame presented me with a Reborn Trainer case, fairly large to accomidate 18 badges. The one thing that stood out was the Reborn symbol on it, the X had gemstones on each of the different arms, nice touch up. The ordinary case just had flat colors on the symbol. "I wish I could tell you more," Ame sighed, "I've been keeping the league going as well as I can through this chaos, and wearing these smiles with all the challengers can get to me." "For curiosity's sake," I suddenly came to a realization, "You're the champion of Reborn, aren't you." Ame shrugged. "A champion, there's plenty of champions here in Reborn. I'm just the only one who really runs the place. Who knows, maybe you'll find a few of them." "Right then," I grabbed each pokeball on my belt and put them on the table, "That'll be all from me. I'm just going to take a moment and meet my team." "Alright then," Ame quipped in a joyful tone as she was leaving the room back into the main hall, "have fun with that!" That lady is one hell of a person to have that composure.

I sent Oryx out first, and he promptly took his place beside me. We have done this sort of deal before, sometimes I would recieve new partners and we would go though a little minature orientation, which mostly comprised of Oryx letting everyone know that it's the boss, not so much me. But this time it was different. I knew I would be having these pokemon for a very long time, so I had to let Oryx know first hand that I was taking charge here. Without any further hesitation, I grabbed the first ball.

It was the Porygon 2. Relatively small, but that is never a measure for a pokemon's strength. I walked forward and looked at it, it's body tilted up and it made several inquisitive beeps. I introduced myself and Oryx, but with this pokemon I had an extra procedure. Every Porygon-family unit that I worked with had a special code that would allow it full access into most systems. But this particular one was not raised by the I.P. That is where my badge case came into play. I held it out for the digital entity to explore. It touched the cable port and did whatever these pokemon do. It looked at Oryx, and then back at me, beeping in understanding of who I am and what my mission is. "You understand then," I ask, "We're going to make the world a better place, can I trust you to work with Oryx and I?" It beeped in many tones, nodded its body several times, and produced a purple stone from its eyes, it was an Eviolite, a rare stone that amplified the fortitude of pokemon that haven't fully evolved. While I prefer Porygon 2 compared to the much more erratic and unpredictable Z, the idea of using an eviolite in battle never occured to me. With mutual understanding, I withdrew the Porygon-2.

The next ball was Swampert, the final evolved form of my first ever pokemon, Mudkip. He was something to behold, large even for his species, the ground shook when he landed on the floor. He took a look around the room first, completely ignoring Oryx and I. This wasn't a malicious act, that much I could tell, but Oryx wasn't having it. It stepped forward with a sharp glare and caught its eyes. The Swampert jumped back in a goofy manner, it was clear he was lazy, and didn't like the sudden piercing gaze. "Oryx," I sternly yell, "That's enough." It huffed in indignation while I took front and walked up to the shaken Swampert. "Hey there, sorry about the scare." I reached into my food pouch on my belt and offered it a few pokeblocks. It took the yellow ones and grunted in relief. "Oryx just likes to make sure you're paying attention, never means any bad feelings." Coming to respect me, he relaxed and gave a slight Ice Punch to the side of my shoulder. I could feel the glare of Oryx while I punched back and shared a laugh with the Swampert, in our own little world. With Swampert done, the Crobat was next.

Many people would associate Crobat with villains, but the reputation is undeserved. A Crobat only evolves from its previous form when its friendship with its trainer is at its best, and I had relatively little surprise when the Crobat flew around looking at me with interest. I held out some pink pokeblocks, which it evidently appreciated and settled down on my arm while it ate. Crobats were very social pokemon, and do not like to be alone for long periods of time. After it finished eating, it flew around the room at unimaginable speed, I always knew they were fast but seeing it in a small of a space as this made me realize just how much control it had of its flight. It stopped in front of Oryx, chirped a greeting, and with that done, I took it back inside its ball.

The Manectric was next, and he was without question, the most intimidating one I have seen yet. Almost immediately after it left it's ball, he was looking at me straight in the eye, with uncertain attention in its eyes. This Manectric was a very seasoned battler, it had some tears on its tail, and a scar that ran down its left front leg. He suddenly switched looks with Oryx, and to my surprise, did not flinch in the slightest. He had absolutely no fear, a rarity to be sure because not many can look at Oryx and not be alarmed. It walked up and at that point I noticed it had a collar. I felt around it and felt a smooth surface, turning it towards me I knew instantly it was a Manectite. It looked at me and nodded, and I decided to oblige his request to Mega-Evolve. The room filled with light and there was an electric feel to the air when I activated the key stone on the Mega-Z Ring, when the light faded, the Manectric stood with all of its glory. Oryx was impressed, while it has faced mega-evolved pokemon in the past, it never acknowledged them as an equal to him, a fault which led to one of it's few defeats at the hands of a Charizard's Fire Blast. Pride was Oryx's greatest weakness, and this Manectric had lots of it. I'll have to be careful with both of them when they're out.

The last ball belonged to the Garchomp, and with reluctance, I tossed the ball. Garchomp scare me, they're fast and incredibly powerful, and can cut just about anything to pieces. Noivy had one of them in our final battle at the Sigil League, only my Swampert at the time was able to put a stop to it. Garchomp had also been under the control of some of my toughest cases, so every time I see one I flash back to some of those really scary battles. This one was as tall as me, her eyes meeting mine at a perfect level angle. Oryx knew my fears all too well, and pushed me forward towards the dragon-type pokemon making me yelp in surprise. It always loved making me confront my fears. I held out a hand and held a red pokeblock to the Garchomp, who lowered her head down to eat it, she liked it to my relief and pulled me towards her with one of her arms and showed me another mega stone, one for her as well. Oryx was clearly amused at seeing my shock, though I realized soon that this Garchomp was lonely. When I raised the pokeball to return it, she looked at me and shook her head. She didn't want to go back in. With my curiosity caught, I decided to talk. "Don't like being in there," I ask with mild fear in my voice. I'll never not be afraid of Garchomps. "Were you in there for too long?" She nodded and revealed an additional item on hand, a paper note. I read its contents;

Make sure she never is alone. She depends on a strong trainer who must be willing to care for her to the best of their ability.

Garchomp were powerful and strong willed normally, but this one was a big exception to the rule. I don't like to admit it, but I would assume that Ame gave me this particular Garchomp for a reason. Because no one else could do what I could for her. Though she protested, I withdrew her and Oryx because I can’t stay in this room forever. I need to leave the Grand Hall and find lodgings that at a minimum has some kind of air conditioning

#justice reborn story #Pokemon Reborn

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