#Video Game Stories

[jotunkhiicha]

One ending away from getting 8/8 and 8 achievements away from 100% completion on steam! Needless to say, I’ve fallen in love with this game.

So more writing for it!

“𝐽𝑢𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒’𝑠 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠.”

How had everything good in life fallen with her? How had the darkness weaved its way through every interaction, every single movement and every single light fixture? Why was it so painful to be seen to exist and be something more than the absence of her presence?

How had it come to this? Stuck in a prison beneath the heavens and left to collect weights, personifications of his guilt as it feels like a thousand hands are pushing him down, a thousand angels using their palms to pray for hell to swallow and take him away for what he has done.

Each weight claws at him, drags him closer to that damnation with each step, each thundering step across the metal floor. The sound comforts him, in a strange way, it reminds him he is still real inside this impossibility. It grants him something to focus on, aside from the monsters that skitter across the ceiling, their legs like little pinpricks of terror that inject their venom into his ears as he speeds up to a light jog, but not before stopping to check on her.

When he stops, he hears the scuttling come back and he draws his rifle, searching the darkness and, in a swift movement, he shoots down a creature that comes cascading down from the unfathomable heights of this place, only to crumble in on itself like when a spider is stepped upon—all legs, not much else.

“Sorry,” He mumbles out with a sigh, lowering the rifle as he turns to look at her, “You doing okay? Need anything?”

She shakes her head and smiles slightly at the warmth his questions give, that was a gift in of itself. “Just… want to get out of here. Are you okay though? You’ve been running backwards and forwards.” She tilts her head and steps closer, a warning wail from the darkness echoes as she does so.

He grimaces at her comment. “I’m fine, Yariv, just looking for a way out.”

She frowns. “You’ve called me that before. That’s not… my name. It’s Eliona,” She furrows her brows in thought, “How do you know that name?” Her inquiry is as probing as the shining moonlight upon his sins as he lay in bed—alone—wondering what had become of him.

His gaze dithers, his attention unfocused as the last weight is heaviest in his hand, dragging him deeper, deeper until all he can possibility reconcile with is how he dies; after all, choosing how he dies is the last freedom afforded to a prisoner.

“James?” She calls hesitantly.

Her voice is akin to the light that moths pine for and he’s drawn to it as such, but she feels like a burning flame, too hot to touch and too risky to be near. She threatened the very structure of his thoughts and the smell is strong like gasoline, a roaring fuel to the fire in his veins. It frightens him, this burning finality that she is, the very thing that Prometheus was scorned for, but he could understand why, he could make sense of it in his mind. He could piece together the fragments of his psyche to put something concrete—something tangible beneath his fingertips like the fragile silken delight of expensive sheets.

He steps back from her, realising he��d come to close.

“James? Are you okay?” Eliona looks concerned for him as he rolls back into his steps, tentative but assured in his decision.

“I’ll… come back.” He trails off, his mind racing a mile a minute, much like his heart, and his eyes still do not meet her as he turns back.

He breaks off from temptation, off from the war between man and heart, from beast and jailer and from heaven and earth, and he moves towards those two metallic doors that clang each time he passes their threshold.

This time, however, is different.

There’s a light of the promise of sunrise on the cusp of the four walls in the yard, like a dusting of hope sprinkling over his bristling despair. Would the light of dawn, the promise of a new day, bring with it Mary? His beloved sent from the heavens and come to rouse the evil from within the depths of his depravity so that he might come with her to those gates that he prayed for.

Would she wait for him? Would she call to him?

As the doors clang, a curtain call as the gallows come into view, his name is sung from angels far and wide, but the angel rests in a cell he left it within.

Eliona.

“James!” Her voice breaks with fervent panic and he runs back, he regrets every choice he made that landed her in the position where he is in this yard with the nooses begging him to give their construction a purpose, and she is in there, with the antithesis of his very self pulling rusted metal bars apart with practised ease.

The glow of the red light, the broken lights atop those ornate doors, bathe its mask in the colour of blood and, as James stands here, unable to do a single thing about it, he fears that its form will drink her blood—bathe in her ichor to feel something real.

James throws all of his weight into doors that do not budge, begging them to move so he can do something, so he can die trying to save something that has meaning in this hapless circumstance that has befallen him.

“Eliona!” He calls as he shoves the doors, powerless and left to watch this horror, tuned just for his bewailing, through those impossibly small prison windows as a white hand, gloved and stained in black soot from the blood of all the creatures it slaughtered along the way, snatches her from where she has scurried to.

“No—get off of me!” She screams vehemently, her cry like a thousand needles come to rend the life from his worthless corpse, “James! Help me! James!” She reaches out to him as she is dragged back by the scruff of her collar, like pathetic trash, to bring his palm into hers, interlace their fingers so that she might be pulled free from death’s claw.

In her eyes, he sees terror as the tears slip from her eyes and her screams, though far, bounce back to his ears like a thunderous percussion. Her presence fades, its presence fades, but her gut-wrenching fear plays clear in his mind like a rewound tape with a notch, constantly replaying in his mind to remind him of his weakness and his inability to reconcile with himself.

She called out to him to save her, and what did he do? Nothing.

He did nothing.

Left with nothing but the rain above and the heavy consequence of his actions, his mouth falls agape at the absence of her presence, of her gaze from afar, and he’s infuriated by his own self for leaving her to rot there—to decay amongst the ruins of life as a white flower should.

Perhaps the gallows are precisely where he should be, for he had become nothing more than a criminal, set to die for his actions and allowing those near him to come to harm.

First, it was Maria, in that impossibly long hallway that stretched on for all eternity and, no matter how many times he plays it over in his mind and upon the back of his eyelids, the result is the same. He can still feel her blood upon his cheeks and the clumps of her flesh and bone stuck in his blond hair.

And, now it was Yariv—Eliona—the woman he had met in the fog and come to know as a restless soul in this prison beneath the sky. She hadn’t recalled their conversation in the thick of the fog as she danced amongst the creatures, deftly weaving between them to lead him to a prize amongst the rubble of civilisation. She had only remembered flickers of their interactions when she would bleed through the surface and those eyes, green like luscious foliage that he missed the supple feeling beneath his fingertips, and the time in Heaven’s Night where it turned up again.

What kind of man is he? is he a man at all?

Is he Charon, ferrying people down into hell in exchange for his own life rather than golden coins?

What has he become?

This town has changed him, changed Mary—it has changed everything. Nothing is the same anymore.

And, as his feet carry him to a noose, marked by the Roman numeral 6, he wonders if she stands at the lever, watching to see how he will struggle as he dies.

He pulls down, yanks it with a fervour so that he can meet rapture.

These hands that create,

The hands that take.

[wholesomemorbid]

The Tale of Cerol, a Dorf Bard

A 100% true story from a game of Dwarf Fortress I was playing yesterday.

Panel 1: "THIS IS CEROL, A DORF BARD." He is a cute dwarf wearing a cave spider silk shirt and holding a guitar.

Panel 2: "Cerol came to the Vale of Immortals to entertain! Cerol likes blue peacocks, good wine, and waterfalls." Cerol frolics past a watchful peacock, his beautiful beard flying.

Panel 3: "AND STEALING." Cerol looks evil suddenly!

Panel 4: "The captain's guard often saw Cerol admiring Erysneth, a yak bone scepter." With shadowy guards in the foreground, Cerol gazes adoringly at a scepter on a pedestal.

Panel 5: "Cerol was not subtle." Suddenly, the scepter and Cerol are gone! The guards are surprised!

Panel 6: "The sheriff and hammerer didn't reach Cerol before he traded it to a traveler." Cerol has been beaten to a broken pulp on the ground while the lawdorfs glare at him. Cerol must have no regrets because he's giving the thumbs-up.

Panel 7: "It was weeks in the hospital before Cerol walked again." He's in the hospital bed, patched up, resting, and giving a thumbs-up. Still.

Panel 8: "The count of the Vale put his fav crown on display. Creusisingar." Those shadowy foreground guys are watching the pedestal again, now with a crown.

Panel 9: "Luckily Cerol learned his lesson..." Cerol approaches the crown, still using a crutch to walk.

Panel 10: "Right?" The pedestal is empty and Cerol is gone again!!!!

Panel 11: "Everyone saw Cerol carry it to his room." He obviously doesn't need the crutch THAT badly, he's running along with the crown in his arms.

Panel 12: "Everyone saw the count replace his crown with Cerol." A pile of bones are unceremoniously piled upon the pedestal from whence Cerol stole things. RIP Cerol.

If this ridiculous comic made you blow air through your nose, please follow me. One heart = one moment an artist forgets deep existential despair in a moment of shallow joy

[fogaminghub]

🚨 Meet Ellie Anne Swan, the “Black Widow” of Red Dead Redemption 2! 🌄 💔 Did you know she killed her mother and several husbands? Our latest blog explores her tragic tale, her encounters, and how you can catch her in the game. 

Check out our post for more spooky details and let us know your thoughts! 

[quibbs]

just had SO much fun with the fallout tv show... i love you missus okey dokey

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy one year anniversary to In Stars and Time!

[yetanotherknitter]

i know that chilchuck saying there's not much interesting for him to say about his daughters and then saying, like, two sentences about each is Very In Character but what would have been funnier is if he was like. hm. it's not very interesting. and then smash cutting to, like, five hours later and he's still going on about them (marcille listens attentively with sparkly eyes. we've done it. we've found how to make him talk)

[ruporas]

trigunned the hades or hadesed the trigun (id in alt)

[acquired-stardust]

Yu-Gi-Oh! Dark Duel Stories Gameboy Color 2000

[retrogamingblog2]

[retquits]

art vs artist 2024!!

surprise i had enough art this year for two templates!! i love drawing SO much i can hardly stand it, here's to even more in 2025 💛

[0fps]

general jiyan

[l0verseyes]

Dependence✅ Loss of empathy✅ Lust for violence✅ Insanity✅ Endless death✅

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

The aspiring 12 year old youtuber from gaza was killed by Israeli forces. He started his YouTube channel years ago inspired by the famous gaming youtuber in this video. His dream was to reach 100k subscribers, but his dream was stolen since he got killed at the 8th of October due to the Israeli bombardment on gaza. Now, he has more than 800k subscribers after his story has been shared which means his dream came true, he just isn't there to witness it. We are not numbers, share our stories, remember that we lived and we wanted to live to the fullest.

The youtuber finds that Awni was his biggest fan and he contacted him more than once, and that he opened his YouTube channel inspired by him. This is heartbreaking.

[milkywayes]

worlds away

my art contribution to the mass effect big bang!

[xinyuehui]

BETTINA ♡ INFINITY NIKKI

[larunart]

Finished this video game concept a few months ago to apply to Uni, using one of my already existing stories.

I really do hope I get to work on this further in the future, even if “just” in comic form. The content is close to my heart and relates to my own experience with depression, suicide and psychosis / the schizophrenia spectrum. Maybe it could help others find more empathy within themselves for their younger past selves.

I actually got the very first spark for this story back in… 2017? 2018? It’s insane how much has changed, it really does feel like it gained a mind of its own. Jane was originally the protagonist with a whole lot more curses involved. For a hot second it was even set in a magical boarding school! Imagine that!

Game in general is inspired by Silent Hill 2, The Cat Lady and What Remains of Edith Finch. If I gave this another try I’d definitely include more fake screenshots.

Some slides (3) are missing - you can view them on my ArtStation profile :-)