#because i think her method has appeal that can extend to people outside of an income bracket that lets them go 'oh fuck yeah!'

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge Pt. 2

Feyre’s part of The Damnation Series. Part 1 is here.

I am proud of myself for finishing this shit, because it’s long as fuck. Whoops.

~Feyre~

Honestly, I should’ve known.

I should’ve known that somehow, with whatever endless resources he has, he would find me. 

That’s all I can think as I find my way into the Impressionists exhibit and find Rhysand Azara, real estate agent to the stars, leaning against the wall, sipping a cup of coffee and looking at Dancers in Blue with narrowed eyes. 

It’s been five days since our date, and like the cliché I am, I’ve spent the entire time thinking about him. I’ve checked my phone countless times, and I even decided to stalk him and Googled his name. 

When--just like he’d said--nothing came up, I googled Dancers in Pink. He said he had it, but it had been sold a few years ago in an auction to “Amren Valenta.”

Unless Rhysand had a stage name, that was definitely not him. 

I dug some more, but after three hours all I discovered was that he owned Azara Industries, which owned a lot of buildings downtown. Oh, and he never let himself be photographed. 

Which was upsetting, because it means I had nothing to stare at whilst stalking him. 

Pathetic. I am so pathetic.

But anyway, I should’ve known he’d come here. He’d said he’d call, but he didn’t have my number. Plus, I’d told him I come here pretty much every day, so really, what did I expect?

I still laugh as I spot him though, somehow surprised, and ask, “Here to flirt with more art students?”

“Just one,” he answers, running his eyes over me as I draw closer. 

Gods, this man is seductive. He’s just looking at me, but I feel his gaze like a touch, dragging over my entire body with slow, intentional grazes. 

My breath hitches, and his eyes twinkle, like he’s well aware to the dirty place my mind has wondered. I can tell he’s holding in some likely-male comment, but he refrains from embarrassing me and he holds out another cup of coffee. 

I take it, grateful for the caffeine boost, and find it somehow made exactly the way I like it. Maybe I’m not the only one stalking. 

Although his methods have to be better than mine if he already knows about the definitely unhealthy amount of sugar I put in my coffee. 

“How many times have you been here this week?” I ask, curious to see his level of devotion. 

“Three. Not a very convenient way of communicating with someone, I admit. I was about to send a smoke signal.” He watches me sip the coffee, watches my tongue dart over my lip. “Plans tonight?”

I fight a sigh and decide to be a student worthy of my scholarship for once. “I told myself I’d work on my senior project.”

His lips twitch at my dejected tone. “What is it?”

A ginormous pain in my ass. “Bad,” I say simply. 

He shakes his head, sipping his coffee and eyeing me over the rim of the cup. “Details.”

For someone who offers no information, he loves demanding it from me. Instead of fight it, I groan and give in to the patriarchy. “It’s just bad! It’s supposed to be a mix of different styles and mediums, but it’s going so poorly I might just start over. Or drop out and become a starving artist a year ahead of schedule.”

Rhysand smiles at my phrasing. “I would never let you starve. And what do you mean, mixing styles and mediums?”

“For someone who frequents museums and has millions of dollars in art, you don’t know much about it, do you?”

“I have people for that.”

“Amren Valenta?” I ask without thinking, exposing myself as a stalker. 

He pauses, cup halfway to his smirking mouth, and raises a brow. “Clever, creepy little woman,” he teases. “But yes. Amren is my curator, and we use her name because I don’t want media attention. As I’m sure you know.”

Busted and blushing to high hell, I roll my eyes and become a junior detective. “Isn’t it illegal to buy something with someone else’s name? What if the IRS comes after you?”

Rhysand looks at a loss for words at that. If I weren’t serious, it would make me laugh how shocked he looks. “I guess,” he says after a moment, “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

I roll my eyes again, because we both know he doesn’t give a shit. It’s not like the IRS actually enforces rules for the one percent, anyway.

“Now tell me about your project.”

Rolling my eyes at how bossy he is, I tell him, “I wanted to combine photography and painting. And I wanted it to be kind of abstract, but also realistic enough.”

“Ambitious.”

I sigh, not able to repress it this time. “Stupid, is what it is. I don’t even know where to start. I have no motivation, let alone inspiration, to work on it.”

A contemplative look crosses his face. “I know where you could find inspiration.”

I raise an eyebrow and gesture around us, because in case he’s missed it, we’re in a museum. Inspiration abounds. But he scoffs and whispers, “This is child’s play compared to a certain someone’s private collection.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, playing along and pretending I don’t know the someone he’s talking about.

He nods, looking around as if making sure there are no spies in the completely empty room listening we’re standing in. “He has Degas, Monet, Dali, you name it. And he’s generous enough to let you come over tonight.”

Pursing my lips, I scan his face, trying to see if he’s serious. I mean... I am dying to see his collection. But, “Is this just a ploy to get me naked?”

He puts a hand on his chest, offense written across his face. “You think I’d try to seduce you while you study?”

“Yes.”

“You’re probably right.” He chuckles, then says, “If you need to get naked to look at art, I certainly won’t complain. But no, Feyre darling, this isn’t a ploy.”

I pause, half stuck on the whole darling thing and half contemplating what to do. 

Ploy or not, I know that if I go to his apartment or house or mansion or castle, I’ll probably sleep with him. He’s too attractive, and my resolve just isn’t that great where’s he’s concerned. 

Plus, I know it’s insane, but art just... Never mind.

I tell myself nothing’s going to happen and that I’m going because of the art--both lies--as I say, “Okay.”

He extends a hand, and I slide mine into it, almost sighing at how perfect we fit together. Would that be the case everywhere? 

Feyre.

I avoid looking at him as he leads me from the room and outside, where a very beefy guy holds open the door to a black sedan. “Seriously?” I ask Rhysand as he ushers me in the back, then climbs in beside me.

“I usually drive myself,” he says in defense, smiling when I roll my eyes.

The city blurs around us as Beefcakes drives, and I’m about to ask where the hell he lives when the car pulls to a stop and the door opens. Climbing out, I look up at the black, shiny penthouse tower, and say, “Of course you live here.”

It’s expensive and in the city and has a million floors, and I bet he lives at the very tippy top.

He gives me a strange look but pulls me in the lobby, then into an elevator. We shoot up flight after flight till we reach the penthouse, confirming my suspicions. 

For what feels like the millionth time, I ask myself why the hell Rhysand’s taken an interest in me. I mean, a year of therapy got me to admit I’m decent looking and all, but I’m... I’m a college student. He’s older and richer and has his life together. Why does he want me?

I don’t have long to contemplate life’s great mysteries because the elevator doors slide open, revealing his apartment, and I become too busy trying to mask my surprise.

I thought the place would be... I don’t know, like him. Sleek. Modern. Luxurious. 

And it is, at least that last part. Everything is obviously expensive. But there’s also a homey quality created by a fireplace, plush couches, decorative rugs, tapestries.

It’s burgundy and black and cream, and so unexpected I smile.

I step in and walk automatically toward the huge windows, taking in the view and realizing we’re at the dead center of the city. In all directions, Chicago’s spread out, lights and traffic and Lake Michigan surrounding us.

Even though the place is beyond wonderful, there’s one thing missing. 

I turn to Rhysand and raise a brow. “No art?”

“One floor down.”

I have to press my lips together to keep the questions in. One floor down, as in it takes up the whole floor. As in he has a private museum. As in I’m so fucking excited I can hardly walk. 

But he seems to be baiting me, seeing how long I’ll last before demanding to be taken down there, so I casually walk around his apartment, taking in all the little details. “It’s more... lived in than I would’ve thought.”

He nods, knowing what I mean even though it was a poor way of explaining it. “I have a few places around the city, but this is the one I prefer.” Nodding to the kitchen, he asks, “Hungry?”

“You cook?” The thought of him covered in flour seems absurd, but we all have our hobbies.

He smiles like I’ve said something funny. “No, but I have takeout menus in there.”

“Hopeless,” I tease, going to the kitchen and opening the fridge like I’m the one who lives here. “I’ll find something.”

I end up finding beer, wine, cheese, and various fruits and vegetables.

Not a lot, but enough to make a charcuterie board, which just so happens to be my specialty. I search for a few minutes before finding a wooden cutting board, then start to assemble whatever snacks I can find.

Cherries and grapes, two types of cheeses, carrots, and crackers fill most of the board, and I fill in gaps with blackberries and chocolate chips I’m surprised he has. 

Once it’s completed and visually appealing enough, I slide it over to where he’s seated on a barstool and bow dramatically. “I’m a master cheese plate maker.”

“I see that. Wine?”

Nodding, I reach in the fridge and grab the first bottle I see. Setting it in front of him, I move to the cabinet and get two glasses and an opener.

Rhysand takes the opener and eyes the bottle, lips twitching as he smoothly uncorks it.

“What?” I ask, unable to figure out what’s funny. Was it weird to make a board or something? Surely even rich guys like cheese and crackers, right?

He pours two glasses, shaking his head and silently refusing to let me in on the joke.

Eyes narrowed, I sit next to him and suspiciously take a small sip from my glass. He watches me, probably expecting me to say something about it, so I offer, “It’s good.”

He bites his lip but can’t keep the laugh in at that, so I finally demand, “What?”

“It’s an $800 bottle of wine, Feyre.”

I almost spit it all over him, which would indeed be a shame, because there’s probably $50 in my mouth. Managing to swallow it down, I sputter, “You... you should’ve said something!”

He’s still laughing, but he stops to take a huge swallow and shrug. “I say we drink the whole bottle.”

I put my head in my hands, blushing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I couldn’t care less.” He pries my hands away. “Seriously. I just wanted to tease you.”

Now that, I believe. But I still ask, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” He smiles, taking another sip. “I keep the really expensive stuff at the townhouse, anyway.”

I roll my eyes and drink some more, somehow trying to taste it better or something now that I know it’s liquid gold. Shifting to put my foot on the stool, I lean across him to grab the platter.

His gaze glides over me slowly, and there’s surprise in his eyes, like he can’t believe I’m sitting in front of him so casually. 

It’s probably weird to be so... open around a stranger, but he’s not exactly normal, so I don’t feel any pressure to be, either.

Regardless, it’s a little hard to breathe with him looking at me like that, so to break the tension, I grab a cherry, pull the stem off, and hold it an inch in front of his face. 

“Ready?”

His eyes cross and he pushes my hand away so he can actually see what I’m holding. “Ready,” he confirms.”

I stick the stem in my mouth, using a trick I spent three hours teaching myself on a rainy afternoon to tie it in a knot, then pull it out with a victorious grin.

“Very impressive,” he notes, but before I can gloat about my supreme cherry-knotting abilities, he steals the stem and sticks it in his own mouth.

My eyes are wide, but I don’t have time to ask what the hell he’s doing before he pulls it out. 

Unknotted.

“Impressive,” I repeat, actually meaning it. “How’d you do that?”

“I’m good with my tongue,” he says immediately, obviously having been lying in wait for the question, and I huff a laugh.

If I called my sisters and told them what I’m going right now, they’d probably try to have me committed. I’m sitting in a billionaire’s penthouse apartment, drinking expensive wine and watching him untie cherry stems with his tongue. 

“How was your week?” I ask to get us back in semi-normal territory, grabbing a cracker off the plate.

He answers vaguely and asks me about mine, and just like that, we fall into easy conversation.

It’s honestly strange to me that after one date, we can talk like this. With my ex, it took weeks before I was really comfortable around him, and yet I feel completely at home with Rhysand.

He tells he’s from the south side of Chicago and asks about my hometown, and I it feels natural. It’s just... easy.

“By the way, you can just call me Rhys,” he tells me as we finish off the platter. “Using my full name reminds me of when I got in trouble in grade school.”

I drain my wine glass, a slight buzz in my veins, and ask, “So I only call you Rhysand when I’m about to spank you?”

He howls with laughter, then surprises me by asking, “What’s your middle name?”

“Adalene. Why?”

“Just trying to figure out what I’ll call you when we get around to spanking.” I blush as he continues, “Feyre Adalene should do.”

He puts the empty wine bottle in the trash and runs a finger over my red cheek. I bat it away, embarrassed, but he just laughs and asks, “Ready to go downstairs?”

For some reason, I get a little nervous, but I put on my big girl pants and nod, taking his hand when he offers it.

Then we’re back in the elevator, coasting down a floor, and just before the doors open, he says, “Close your eyes.”

Anticipation makes it difficult to follow the request but I manage, and he guides me out of the elevator and turns me slightly. “Open.”

I open my eyes and come face to face with something I never thought I’d see. 

“You... you have a...” I whisper, not quite able to get the word out.  

“Meule.”

One of eight left in private collectors hands, Monet’s Meules--or Grainstacks--are some of the most recognizable, renown works of art in the world. The last was sold four years ago for over $80 million.

Amren Valenta is a very, very rich woman, according to her art collection. 

I’m standing inches from it now, mildly unsure of how that happened, looking at the sunset colors bleed into the shadows of the grain, taking in the easy lines and brushwork.

Turning to look at him, I see he’s leaned against the wall next to the painting, head tilted as if I’m the most interesting thing in the room.

“I can’t believe I’m here right now,” I say honestly, my voice airy and light.

He just smiles and motions to my right. “The collection goes in a loop.”

I nod, and after a few more minutes staring at the Monet, I start to walk.

Or more like mosey. 

If he’s irritated with how long I’m taking, he doesn’t mention it. He follows me as I stare after pieces of art I never dreamed of being close to. Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Klimt, Pollock, Munch.

And then, at the edge of my peripheral, I see it.

Dancers in Pink hangs besides a smaller Degas, but it’s all I can look at. The dancer’s skirts are so bright in person, the tulle layers seeming to come off the canvas. The gold in the background is vibrant and metallic, in sharp contrast with the dark wall it hangs on.

Gods, it’s beautiful.

I know there are more famous paintings in here, but I’ve spent three years going to look at Dancers in Blue, never imagining I’d see one a similar work. 

Tears slide down my face and a laugh bubbles out of me, the two reactions complete opposites but both somehow feeling right.

Strong arms wrap around my waist, and I feel Rhysand’s chin settle on my shoulder as he hugs me from behind. “You know,” he whispers, seeming to not want to disrupt my moment with loud noises, “I never understood how important this is to people.”

“Oh, Rhysand. It’s... wonderful.”

It’s an inadequate way to say what I want to say, but it’s all I can come up with at the moment. I lean into him, and we stand like that, me staring at the painting, him at me, for a long while. 

When I start to get tired, I turn in his embrace, wrap my arms around his shoulders, and kiss him softly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

I somehow finish the loop, and by the time we’re in the elevator again, I’m so emotionally spent I can’t hardly breathe.

“Inspired?” he questions, linking our hands and pulling me closer to his side.

I nod, but inspired doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m grateful and overwhelmed and so happy I could burst.

A professor once told me that art is a gift that lasts forever and never stops giving, and I never really understood what she meant until now. Over a hundred years after Dancers in Pink was completed, it still brings people to tears.

It’s a powerful and beautiful and eternal way to send a message, and it makes me feel like a small piece of the puzzle, but at the same time, so important and alive.

We glide smoothly back up to his apartment, but neither of us move once the doors ding open. 

Because technically, there’s no longer a reason for me to be here. 

I’ve seen the art, drank his expensive wine. I should get my bag and go. 

I should... but I don’t want to. 

Rhysand’s perfectly quiet and still beside me, patiently waiting for me to make up my mind. 

The angel on my shoulder tells me how sweet and considerate he’s being. The devil tells me to reward this behavior with a few sinful ideas. 

Running a hand through my hair, I debate my options. Be smart and leave, or stay and try and fight the urge to throw myself at him. 

“Oh, fuck it,” I mutter, dramatically taking a step forward like I’m going into war.

He laughs as he follows me off the elevator, strolling back to the kitchen. “More wine?”

I nod, because at this point, I’m already a lost cause. He opens a new bottle and pours me some. “How much was this one?”

“Ten dollars,” he lies, fighting a smile. “On sale at Walmart.”

“I’m surprised you even know what Walmart is,” I laugh, taking my seat back at the bar. 

“You forget I’m from the south side. All this,” he motions around us, as he takes the seat next to me. “Used to be nothing more than a dream.”

“How’d you do it?” I ask, genuinely curious. Most people with his kind of wealth were born into it and given every advantage possible. “What’d you do?”

He looks down at the floor, but there’s a sudden set of his jaw, a tightness in his shoulders. “Whatever I had to.”

I don’t point out he’s given me yet another non-answer. Instead I say simply, “I find working for something makes you value it more, anyway.”

His eyes find me again, and there’s something I can’t read in his gaze. “Yes, it does. And it makes you do whatever it takes to keep it.”

I swallow and nod slowly, trying to figure out what exactly he means.

He takes a deep breath, then drinks the wine in his glass in a single swallow. There’s a story there, and it’s easy to see it burdens him, but it’s his to tell in his own time. 

Just to get that strain out of his gaze, I switch topics completely. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how you untied that damn cherry stem.”

Rhysand smiles, a full one that showcases all his pretty little teeth, and leans in, the intent clear in his eyes. 

“Come here and I’ll show you,” he whispers.

I press my lips to his and open them immediately--for the lesson, of course--and his tongue meets mine in a slow glide. 

Where our first kiss was all heat and drifting hands, this one’s slow and sensual and like ice cream melting on a summer day. 

His mouth fits mine perfectly, and his hands seem to be made to hold me, sliding up my thighs to settle on my hips. The hair at his nape is soft against my fingers, and I lean on the stool to get closer and wrap my arms around his neck.

I suck on his tongue, and he makes a low sound, then his hands are tightening and lifting, and I’m being settled on his lap.

Both of us on one stool isn’t ideal, but I wrap my legs around his waist and hope we don’t go crashing over. 

Gravity comes into play and I start sliding, so he turns the stool and traps between him and the counter. The granite digs into my spin, but I can’t be bothered to care, because the new position gives his hands freedom to roam again, and he slides them over my thighs, across my ass, up my sides. 

His thumbs brush the sides of my breasts, and they become heavy and aching against his chest.

His mouth slowly drags down to my neck, and I sigh as he finds that one spot that drives me crazy. His nips the skin, tongue smoothing the small hurt, and his name slips out of me in a quiet moan. 

Everything seems to change at once.

Cursing creatively, he sweeps me into his arms and stands, then walks us into his living room and plops onto a plush couch. 

My ADHD kicks in and I’m momentarily distracted by how soft the leather is, but then his tongue runs across the seam of my lip and I snap back into focus.

My hips are churning against him, desperate for some friction, and I kiss him without restraint, abandoning our slow, peaceful rhythm from earlier. I hadn’t realized I’d been working on the buttons of his shirt, but then a band of tan skin is exposed, and I dip my head to press my lips against it. 

He tugs my hair to bring my mouth back to his, and I practically attack him, biting his lip and pulling his hair and generally acting like a depraved cavewoman.

He doesn’t complain, though. His hands drag my hips closer, then slip under the hem of my sweater. 

The scrape of his callouses on my sides snaps me back to the shocking reality where I’m--yet again--making out with a man I hardly know, and I gasp, then curse, then practically jump backwards off his lap. 

Standing in front of him, I put a hand over my mouth like that’ll stop me from using it and look him over. 

He’s all sprawling legs and swollen lips and beautiful eyes, and I force my eyes to the ceiling. “You look like a hot, virginal dork I just deflowered in the back of my minivan,” I tell him. 

“I feel a bit like that,” he laughs, running a thumb over his bruised lips almost in shock. “Although it’s always nice to be desired.”

I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so distracted by him looking so thoroughly messy. 

But I know that despite what just happened, I can’t do this with him yet. 

I mean, I definitely could, and it definitely would be enjoyed by all parties involved, but I would regret it. 

Rhysand isn’t someone I can just sleep with and forget. I’ve known him a week, and I already feel a strange sort of bond with him. 

If we slept together, then never spoke again, it would hurt me more than I’d care to admit. 

“I think I should leave.”

He nods like he was expecting this, but asks, “Why?”

Putting my hands on my hips, I repeat what I said earlier. “Working for something makes you value it more, remember?”

He smiles and stands, taking a minute to straighten the clothes I’d pawed out of place.

“It also makes you do whatever it takes to keep it,” he reminds me, a shiver sweeping over me at the words. “Come on; I’ll walk you out.”

We go to the elevator and stay on opposite ends the entire ride down. I’m a little proud, because I most certainly thought about crossing over to his half. 

Stepping outside, Rhysand motions for Beefcakes to open the door. “He’ll drive you home.”

“Thank you,” I say, starting towards the car. 

I take two whole steps before he’s somehow in front of me, blocking the path. “Two more things.”

He kisses me, gently but firmly, then pulls back and slips a piece of paper in my hand. “It’s your turn to send smoke signals.”

I look down at the paper and see a number written in a slashing scrawl, intelligently putting together that it’s his phone number. I look back up to respond, but he’s already back at the entrance to the building. 

Rhysand looks over his shoulder, winks, and disappears inside. 

I get in the SUV and tell Beefcakes my address, and off we go. I study the piece of paper the entire way there, mind reeling with everything that happened today. 

The easy conversation, the art, the kiss. 

Is this how it feels to be swept off your feet?

And how long, exactly, do I have to wait before calling him?

________________________________________________

This took me so long to edit holy FUCK. Part 3

@perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @shinya-hiiragi​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @nahthanks​ @ghostlyrose2​ @tillyrubes10​ @claralady​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @thegoddessofyou​ @awesomelena555​ @booksofthemoon​ @greerlunna​ @jlinez​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @bamchickawowow​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​ @elorcan-trash​ @emikadreams​ @alpha-omegas​ @joyceortiz13​ @sapphic-beauty​ @meowsekai​ @ahappyhistorianreader​

[carewyncromwell]

[Ficlet] Gonna Hit Rewind

Hi guys! So this is a little drabble inspired by a prompt by my friend @drinkyoursoupbitch​, where I show what my MC, Carewyn Cromwell, was up to during a certain scene in the Harry Potter series! 

Before we begin, just a couple of notes --

Post-Hogwarts, Carewyn becomes a lawyer for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement -- you can read more about her life as an adult here, if you’d like! When it comes to the Order of the Phoenix, Carey-Bear doesn’t formally join, instead providing covert assistance while staying autonomous from Dumbledore (who she doesn’t really like as a person) and looking “subservient” to Fudge’s wishes. Later on, this becomes very useful after the Death Eaters take over the Ministry in 1997: when the Battle of Hogwarts begins, Carewyn actually helps take back the Ministry by placing Umbridge under citizen’s arrest and temporarily taking charge until Kingsley Shacklebolt is officially appointed Minister. Carewyn’s outfit in the sketch enclosed below is inspired by this design. Musical accompaniment for this ficlet were “Leave Me Alone” by Michael Jackson (for Carewyn’s conversation with that...certain family member in the aforementioned sketch) and “Turn Back Time” by Derivakat (which inspired the title of this drabble!). And in regards to Carewyn’s negative attitude toward Time Turners...that is 110% my mother talking. When we read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child together, she absolutely hated that it involved time travel, as she found the whole idea ridiculously confusing and illogical. (The whole climax of Prisoner of Azkaban was even her least favorite aspect of the original Potter books. 😂)

Hope you enjoy -- and much love, Soup dear! xoxo

x~x~x~x

“Down here, down here,” panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. “The lift doesn’t even come down this far…why they’re doing it there…”

They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to that which led to Snape’s dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

“Courtroom…Ten…I think…we’re nearly … yes.”

As Arthur Weasley rushed down the hall toward Courtroom Ten, he was unaware that in Courtroom Seven, the door of which was left slightly ajar, Carewyn Cromwell was speaking to her estranged uncle, the new head of the Cromwell Clan, at that very moment, nor that their conversation would ultimately determine Harry’s fate in that courtroom happening just three doors down. 

“You’re not supposed to be here, Blaise, and you know that full well.”

“I merely wished to speak with the Minister, little Winnie -- you are aware of how much our family still supports the Ministry and, by extension, your career, are you not?”

Carewyn fixed Blaise with a very cold blue eye. “And I suppose Lucius Malfoy speaking with the Minister down here mere moments ago had nothing to do with you making an unscheduled visit?”

Blaise cocked his eyebrows, his identically colored and shaped eyes narrowing under them.

“I can sense you trying to enter my mind, Winnie,” he said very softly, his eyes rippling like light blue flames despite the hardness of his face. “It won’t work. You couldn’t reach my thoughts when you were a girl, and you can’t reach them now.”

His voice became cooler, to the point of sounding condescending. 

“Whatever questions you have, you know your uncle would be more than willing to answer them, if you merely ask nicely.”

‘Answer’ -- ha! Carewyn thought to herself scornfully. Lie your face off, more like. But even so...if I’m going to get what I need, I need to keep him talking...

Carewyn went very quiet, considering Blaise carefully and her next words even more so. 

“...Are you or are you not associating with Lucius Malfoy?” she asked softly.

“You might recall that he and Father were business associates back in the day.”

“Of course I do. That’s why I’m asking. Or have you forgotten where Grandfather’s activities sentenced him -- where they sentenced you, until you were able to bribe the Minister to reduce the rest of your family’s sentences?”

“Our family, little Winnie,” Blaise corrected her, a notable, fiery edge to his voice.

You all may be related to me by blood, but you are not my family, Carewyn thought fiercely, but she once again bit her tongue. If she provoked his temper the way she was tempted to, he’d be less likely to talk to her. 

When she didn’t respond, Blaise continued. 

“Lucius Malfoy has always had a working relationship with the Cromwell Clan. It’s only natural that we speak from time to time, as two patriarchs of prominent magical families.”

“Magical families with certain reputations, you mean,” Carewyn said very coolly. 

“Cornelius Fudge thinks very highly of Lucius Malfoy.”

“And of you, thanks to your impressive acting. But that doesn’t extend to everyone else, and you know it.”

“Of course,” said Blaise with a very cool smirk. “That’s something we have in common, isn’t it, Winnie? Putting on a charming face to get what we want, and not caring who hates us for it?”

Carewyn didn’t care enough to argue this point -- she’d already had this sort of discussion with Rakepick several times back in the day, and she knew that it meant Blaise was not only trying to divert the conversation, but also was absolutely full of it. 

You’re acting like this fact makes us just as bad as each other, Blaise, but it doesn’t. Even if we have some similarities in our methods, that does not make us the same. I’ve never terrorized people to try to advance myself. I’ve never manipulated or forced anyone to join a criminal organization. I’ve never masqueraded as my nephew in order to try to manipulate my niece into selling her soul and her freedom just to save him. However much I’m not perfect, I’m head-and-shoulders above you, when it comes to the moral high ground.

But honestly, there was no point in arguing with people like Blaise. It wasn’t like she’d ever convince him that everything he thought was wrong -- that Muggles weren’t inferior, Charles Cromwell was an abusive monster, and everything he and the Cromwell Clan did to try to get Carewyn, Jacob, and Lane back under their control was reprehensible rather than justified -- and she didn’t feel enough passion to try. Especially not when there were more important things happening at that very moment...

Harry would be in the courtroom by now. She had to hurry.

Although Carewyn tried to keep her face stoic, her brain was working very fast. Her eyes drifted away, off toward the far wall of the courtroom where the Wizengamot benches were lined up.

“...Look,” she said slowly, her voice becoming a little softer, “my Legilimency has become very sensitive, in this line of work. It allows me to read people’s intentions and feelings very quickly, even when I’m not actively trying to. And Lucius Malfoy...he doesn’t see you as an equal, but as a pawn.”

Blaise’s eyebrows came down over his eyes, but he didn’t respond.

“You and the rest of the Cromwell Clan only got out of Azkaban because you were able to appeal to Fudge,” said Carewyn, “but if you’re associating with the wrong people, that could very quickly sour. Your position will become uncertain again, and you won’t be able to protect them -- especially if Fudge gets the kind of control over the Wizengamot that he wants...where charges and judgments are laid down based on favoritism more than legality. We’re already seeing it with how Fudge is now treating Dumbledore and Potter, after how much he always sucked up to them. End up outside of Fudge’s good graces, as they did, and the same might befall you. I realize that you and Malfoy...”

Are Muggle-hating bigots.

“...have similar politics,” she said at last very stiffly, “...but Lucius Malfoy’s politics are far more extreme than yours, and although the courts decided there wasn’t enough evidence to prove his methods were also...we both know that’s also true. If he falls, he will drag you down with him -- and if you take the fall for his actions, he won’t lift a finger to help you.”

Carewyn forced herself to look Blaise in the eye. 

“Grandfather’s dealings with R got you all in enough trouble. You bought yourself and the rest of...our family a second chance -- something many others did not get. Are you sure you want to endanger that?”

Blaise considered Carewyn very carefully as she spoke, his blue eyes boring into hers critically. By the end, they’d actually widened.

“...Are you actually expressing concern for us, Winnie?” he asked very lowly. 

Carewyn scoffed. “Don’t misunderstand me, Blaise -- I don’t really think you all deserved a second chance in the first place, after everything you’ve pulled.”

Her blue eyes became a bit more solemn. 

“But truthfully...I’m not that upset that you were released from Azkaban. Dementors...they’re wretched creatures. I’ve seen what they can do to people.”

Her expression darkened.  

“...I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, however terrible they are.”

Something confused and almost disgusted rippled over Blaise’s face, making his nose wrinkle.

“Ugh -- and here I’d thought you’d actually weeded out that weakness in your heart...”

Carewyn’s red lips came together tightly, but she didn’t reply. The two stared each other down for a moment, before Blaise finally exhaled.

“Very well, Winnie -- you want to know why I’m down here?”

He reached into his scarlet robes and pulled out a gold chain, on the end of which dangled a tiny gold hourglass. 

A Time Turner. 

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon it. 

“Lucius Malfoy has expressed quite a bit of interest in my old department, when we’ve spoken,” murmured Blaise. “One sub-section in particular -- one where records of magical predictions are kept.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “Prophecies?”

“They are truly a fascinating thing,” said Blaise, his voice sounding rather airy. “So much value is placed on them -- too much, one could argue...just as one puts too much value on all attempts at ‘future sight.’ Alas, the section of my old department that Malfoy was interested in was not my area of expertise -- my area was in the study of Time, specifically backwards-facing. We did occasionally dip into the study of forward-facing time magic, but more in the sphere of inevitabilities -- things that evolve naturally in nature, every season -- not human affairs. Unfortunately when I was there, there was an employee monitoring the perimeter of the section I meant to enter -- I couldn’t have explored further even if I’d wanted to.”

“So Malfoy wanted you to stop by your old desk and pick up something that might help him or someone else enter the Department of Mysteries?” Carewyn asked. “Why?”

Blaise shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

“And yet you have a suspicion as to why?”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed upon Carewyn’s face, not angrily, but almost darkly. 

“I may no longer work for the Department of Mysteries, Winnie, but I cannot discuss the more classified branches of their work too deeply. That is part of the Vow I made when I first joined the Department -- it forces me to speak in hypotheticals and vague descriptions more than specific details. But I fear no random stooge using this tool to try to enter my old department, whether Malfoy or otherwise. In fact,” he added with a smirk, “I would frankly love to see them try.”

He ignored Carewyn’s critical, confused expression and pressed on more seriously. 

“You’re not a stupid girl, Winnie. I know you know what’s really going on, under the surface. Me offering assistance to Lucius Malfoy early on is merely how I intend to earn enough favor to keep my family safe, should the worst happen.”

“And what is that?” asked Carewyn.

Blaise cocked his eyebrows again. “Ask your mother. She remembers the First Wizarding War just as well as I do -- how it all started before.”

He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“Blaise.”

Carewyn speaking his name and sharply grabbing his arm holding the Time Turner made him stop. 

“If you wish to provide Lucius Malfoy useful information,” she said lowly, “you can tell him that that employee was not there by accident.”

Blaise looked back over his shoulder, startled. Carewyn closed her eyes tight, trying to block out the intense nausea rippling over her. 

“He’s there to make sure Malfoy’s superior can’t reach what he wants,” she murmured. “There are many more, just like him, all with the same goal. It doesn’t matter when you go there -- there will always be someone there who will keep him away from what he wants.”

Blaise stared at Carewyn, his eyes narrowing in bewilderment. 

“...Why are you telling me this?” he whispered. 

Carewyn swallowed back the lump in her throat. 

“I haven’t worked with time magic like you have...but people aren’t supposed to be in two places at once. That I do know. A lot of problems have been caused by people trying to mess with time. Mum told me that once in the 19th century, a whole bunch of people’s lives were erased out of existence, all because someone messed around with a Time Turner...”

“Ah, yes, Eloise Mintumble,” said Blaise, sounding as darkly amused as a bully might upon seeing one of their usual targets wearing a particularly obnoxious dress. “Tried to go back more than a few hours and ended up changing things so dramatically that she both erased 25 people out of existence and aged her body five centuries and died upon return trip. A rather fascinating case study.”

“You’re disgusting,” Carewyn said coldly. But she got back to the task at hand, her voice hardening. “Even if Malfoy couldn’t get what his master wants from the Department of Mysteries with that Time Turner, he could still do irreparable damage with it. If all Malfoy needs is assistance, to believe that you’re helping him and for you to earn enough esteem that the Cromwell Clan stays safe...then give him the intelligence I’ve given you. Don’t give him that Time Turner.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, his lips spreading into a rather condescending smirk. “Why? Because it’s wrong, little Winnie? Because it’s illegal and immoral, and ‘not the right thing to do?’”

“I’m not foolish enough to appeal to you with morality, Blaise -- I know you don’t have any,” spat Carewyn. “I’m asking you not to do it for your own self-preservation. For the Clan’s. ...For your family’s.”

Blaise’s smirk actually slid off his face. Carewyn held his gaze as best as she could, even with how ill she felt. 

“I may not be one of those who takes turns standing watch in your old department,” Carewyn said very softly, “but Jacob is.”

Blaise’s face went rather white, and Carewyn knew she’d struck a cord. For as cruel, selfish, and immoral of a person as Blaise was, he still saw his family -- all of it -- like his personal belongings. And he “took care” of his belongings. He wanted complete control over them and, like Charles before him, he never respected them as people, nurtured them, or gave them any freedom...but Blaise didn’t want anyone touching “his things.”

The older man’s jaw clenched as a rather dark glint flashed through his eyes.

“...I see.”

His teeth still bared, he extended the hand holding the Time Turner’s gold chain and, very slowly, lowered it into Carewyn’s hand. 

Carewyn’s eyes softened in relief.

“Thank you.”

Blaise exhaled heatedly through his nose.

“Jacob always was a fool,” he growled, his voice full of resentment. “Risking his life for people like that Muggle filth who abandoned you and your mother -- ”

“Better than selling his soul and freedom to serve the person who locked my mother and all of you up like prisoners,” Carewyn shot back rather coolly.

Blaise’s eyes flashed angrily. “You will not speak ill of your grandfather, Winnie! Everything he ever did in his life was for us, including you, your brother, and your mother, and I will not have you forgetting that!”

“Crow that lie as much as you want -- it won’t ever make it true.”

Blaise seethed as Carewyn pocketed the Time Turner in her robes. Slowly, his temper cooled enough that his lips spread back out into a rather vindictive smirk.

“For the record, Winnie...Time moves in a loop. If Lucius Malfoy were to use the Time Turner after I give it to him a half-hour from now, the effects would’ve already been felt by us by now. We would have heard about someone having broken into the Department of Mysteries before our conversation even started. The fact that we are not hearing that means that he never receives the Time Turner from me. So, in fact, it was already clear that I would give you the Time Turner before I actually did -- ”

“Oh, shut your trap,” Carewyn said tiredly. Just listening to Blaise wax on was giving her a headache. “I don’t even want to try unpacking all that time travel rubbish. All I care about is that Malfoy and his ilk can’t try to mess with time, now or ever.”

She turned on her heel and strode for the slightly ajar door. Pushing it further open, she then looked back over her shoulder at Blaise. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to take care of. Stay out of trouble, or I will not hesitate to prosecute you.”

Blaise’s eyes were very cold even around his smirk. “If there’s anyone who should be warned to stay out of trouble, it’s you, Winnie. I’m not the only one who’s aligned themselves with people who could drag them down, if they fall.”

“Perhaps,” said Carewyn mildly. “But my friends will catch me if I fall, just as they have before. Just like I always catch them. That makes all the difference.”

She walked away, her heels clapping against the black tiled floor as she strode to the end of the hall, listening at the door of Courtroom Ten. She could hear several voices talking inside -- after a moment, she recognized two as Amelia Bones and Cornelius Fudge. 

“...certainly described the effects of a dementor attack very accurately. And I can’t imagine why she would say they were there if they weren’t -- ”

“But dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just happening to come across a wizard! The odds on that must be very, very long, even Bagman wouldn’t have bet -- ”

“Oh, I don’t think any of us believe the dementors were there by coincidence,” said a very misty, serene voice from inside the Courtroom.

Carewyn’s shoulders relaxed, even as her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling.

Dumbledore. He’d made it in time. 

Exhaling heavily, Carewyn quickly turned back around and walked briskly back down the hallway, back upstairs toward her office. On the way, she walked by Blaise, who was now deep in quiet conversation with Lucius Malfoy, and Carewyn and Malfoy coldly stared each other down as she passed.

x~x~x~x

Carewyn hated keeping the Time Turner in her desk. She wanted to be rid of the thing immediately, but she knew she had to be patient. 

Around 11:00, just before lunchtime, Carewyn asked to borrow a Dungbomb from Tonks and covertly dropped off it just outside the Auror Department on her way back to her tiny office. The resulting smell resulted in the entire floor clearing out, until someone could deal with the smell. Carewyn herself, however, stayed in her office and powered through, spraying some Muggle air freshener to try to mask the smell. 

I forgot how much I hate Dungbombs, Carewyn thought dully. Oh well...desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess.

Keeping the files on a case she was working on open on either side of her, Carewyn read through them every-so-often as she pecked away at a letter she had to write. This letter had to be concise and to the point, if its recipient was going to know it was safe and exactly what she had to do, to help keep Harry Potter from getting unjustly expelled. 

Right on time, three hours after Harry’s hearing, Carewyn’s Legilimency picked up the feeling that someone was approaching her office. A moment later, there was a knock on her door. 

The ginger-haired lawyer exhaled heavily, her eyebrows knitting together. 

“Come in,” she said. 

Although she kept her voice level, she already felt a headache coming on. She knew who was on the other side of that door -- and sure enough, when it opened, in came tall, silver-bearded Albus Dumbledore, dressed in long midnight-blue robes. 

Carewyn’s eyes hardened as the Hogwarts Headmaster closed the door behind him.

“Hello, Carewyn,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. 

“You got my message from Tonks, then?” Carewyn asked. 

“To come straight to your office as soon as I arrived, but to not let anyone see me entering? Yes. Though I daresay the evacuation of this floor thanks to the smell of Dungbombs helped with that considerably,” said Dumbledore, and his light blue eyes twinkled. “I presume it has something to do with why some members of the Wizengamot were asking what I was doing back here so soon, and why Cornelius looked even more sour at my presence than usual.”

Carewyn’s face was twisted in a deep frown as she finally took the Time Turner out of the drawer and put it on top of her desk. 

“The time and place of Harry’s hearing was changed three hours ago, with no notice,” she said stridently. “The hearing originally scheduled for 11 o’clock instead was moved to 8 o’clock at 7:58 this morning. The letter was sent by owl to Privet Drive at 7:59, right before a second letter informing Harry that because he didn’t show up for his hearing, he was presumed guilty and therefore expelled from Hogwarts. Both letters arrived at 8:52. The Order wasn’t informed of the change until a little after 9, but was also informed by Arthur Weasley that you’d had the matter well in hand and had arrived miraculously early.”

“And so they felt no need to send me any post regarding the matter,” presumed Dumbledore with a dewy smile. “But in order for all of that to have happened, I will have to go back and ensure it does happen -- isn’t that so?”

Carewyn nodded curtly as she handed the Time Turner and a sealed envelope to Dumbledore. 

“Three turns back should be enough -- you don’t want to risk changing too much, by arriving too early, and I have a closed-door meeting with Chester Davies prior to that. Give this letter to me as soon as you arrive in the past. As soon as she...escorts you out, head straight for Courtroom Ten. You should arrive just after Harry does -- it shouldn’t raise as much suspicion if you make it to the courtroom after Harry, since he was already in Arthur’s office when he first received word of the change...”

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with some mischief. “Clever as always, Carewyn, my dear. You do the Order very proud.”

Carewyn’s eyes flashed. “I’m not doing this for you or your ‘Order,’ Dumbledore, as you know full well. Jacob was completely at R’s mercy after he was expelled from Hogwarts, and I don’t want to even think about where Potter might end up, if the same thing happened to him. And if Jacob’s guarding something in the Department of Mysteries, I don’t want to make it any easier for You-Know-Who and his goons to get the drop on him.”

Dumbledore’s calm didn’t shift, though his eyes did turn a bit more solemn. “And as always, Carewyn, your cleverness is only rivaled by your caring for others.” 

Rising to his feet, the Headmaster tucked the envelope inside his robes and then picked up the Time Turner. 

“I’ll be seeing you,” he said cheerily, “or, should I say, ‘I will have seen you?’”

And with three turns, he’d disappeared.

Carewyn gave an exhausted, groan-like sigh.

“I hate Time Turners,” she muttered to herself.

x~x~x~x

When Dumbledore appeared in Carewyn’s office out of the blue at 8 o’clock that morning, the ginger-haired lawyer reacted with a lot of irritation and suspicion. Those feelings weren’t helped when Dumbledore handed her the letter addressed to her, and yet written in a hand identical to hers.

Carewyn,

First of all, yes, I know you recognize this handwriting. This isn’t a trick -- it’s just the work of a Time Turner: specifically the one Dumbledore’s holding. On that note, ask him to hand it over and then smash it. We have more than enough problems in the here and now: no sense in adding more time travel rubbish to the pile. 

Now that that’s been taken care of, let’s get to business --

The time and place of Harry’s hearing was moved just a minute ago. It now starts at 8 o’clock in the morning in Courtroom Ten. Don’t worry, Arthur’s already been notified and is ferrying Harry as we speak, but Dumbledore needs to get down there right now. Kick him out of your office, nice and loudly -- there are people outside who could overhear, and you don’t want anyone to think you and Dumbledore are on good terms. Which, fortunately, you’re not. 

Now that Dumbledore’s out of your hair, let’s go over what you need to do -- 

Blaise has sneaked into the Ministry, specifically the bottommost floor near the Department of Mysteries, on Lucius Malfoy’s direction. No, Blaise isn’t a Death Eater -- just short-sighted and self-serving as ever. The point is that he has a Time Turner on his person, which he cannot be allowed to walk away with, under any circumstances. You’ll be able to catch him leaving the Department of Mysteries if you go downstairs in the next fifteen minutes. He’ll be meeting Lucius Malfoy around 8:30, in the middle of Harry’s hearing, so don’t let him walk away without getting that Time Turner away from him. Don’t come at the issue straight-on, though -- you can appeal to Blaise to give it to you willingly. Just keep him talking. Once you have the Time Turner, you can hold onto it until Dumbledore arrives in your office at the time that was originally scheduled for Harry’s hearing, so he can use it to go back far enough to arrive at Harry’s hearing on time. 

I know, this Time Travel stuff is absolutely bloody ridiculous. But at least this way Malfoy won’t be able to use the Time Turner Blaise stole to cause even more havoc. 

Burn this letter as soon as you’re done reading it. We don’t want anyone coming across it. 

Good luck. 

As for Dumbledore himself, he arrived at Harry’s hearing right on time, all according to plan. 

“Ah,” said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. “Dumbledore. Yes. You --er -- got our -- er -- message that the time and -- er -- place of the hearing had been changed, then?”

“I must have missed it,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.”

[hooniee]

   — ꒰‧⁺ maple tree*ೃ༄

↷ ni-ki x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ 

↷ genre: fluff | romance⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ warnings: not proofread! | none! ⋯ ♡ᵎ 

↷ synopsis: almost getting squished by a freshman boy falling out of a tree, might have made your monday morning turn around ⋯ ♡ᵎ  

↷author note: hi guys! this is for @enhypenwriters​ event! strangers to lovers <3 this was one out of three i wrote and this was one i wasn’t satisfied with but it was a cute idea (or at least i think so!) please enjoy! ⋯ ♡ᵎ

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

monday morning was unmistakably not on your team. from your charger being broken and leaving your phone dead to your wicked idiot brother consuming the last slice of toast, you were not a festive person. 

"i'm heading out idiot, don't be late," you shout at your brother who just replies with an 'okay!'

rummaging around your jacket pocket, you pull out a granola bar that was half-eaten from the other day and scarfed it down. 

definitely a bit stale, but you were appreciative nonetheless.

you arrive at the bus stop and take a seat, enjoying the scenery. one of your favorite destressers in the hectic mornings.

arriving at school, you hasten your steps with five minutes remaining.

'mr.kim is going to mark me absent for the seventh time this month.'

fortunately, this was the only good thing going for you today.

you exhault in relief and take out your materials for math class as you mentally adjust yourself for the long day ahead.

this day couldn’t get any more tiring.

from an exhausting morning, your lunch period comes to rescue you from starvation.

you head outside to your usual place beneath the maple tree in the courtyard, with your sandwich and chocolate milk.

taking a mouthful of your sandwich, you draw out the scarlett letter from your bag to relish in the meantime

profoundly absorbed in your book, you didn't recognize that a boy is sitting on a tree branch right overhead you. 

he didn’t mean to stare down but it was the first time he had seen you.

he would admire you from a distance until mother nature said ‘no’

CRACK

there was the familiar sound of a snapping branch and you managed to glance up and duck it just in time to see a mop of blonde tresses right next to you.

the blonde hair boy instantly rose up and dusted himself off, clearing his throat, pretending that nothing had happened.

you were still flustered at the out of the blue fall. you place your book facing down, marking the page where you left off.

“a-are you okay? that was a pretty high fall,” glimpsing at the maple tree and back to him.

you have never seen this guy. he was tall and lean with milky skin and blond hair that touched his harmonious brown eyes.

the gaze he held on you was interesting.

navy blue nametag, an underclassman

“don’t worry princess, i’m alright. i've had worse” he returns with a wink.

a simple wink was enough to send a rush of blood to your cheeks.

'what a flirty freshman, wasn't he just embarrassed a couple of seconds ago? 360 change'

“if anything hurts, just go to the nurse. please be careful,” you say instantaneously, attempting to flee quickly.

he doesn't need to see the powerful blush on your cheeks that won’t leave.

a tug of your wrist sticks you in place. he spins you around to confront him but the grass appeared to be more appealing.

there's a moment of silence before he asks. “...are you blushing?” 

your brain was internally smashing your head against a book.

“no i am just not used to a freshman guy falling from the sky. don’t flatter yourself, i have standards.” you spit out.

"i didn't even mention anything about myself, i just asked if you were blushing," he smirks at you, feeling boastful.

how did you just betrayed yourself?

“whatever! now if you don’t mind, i’ll be going now. i’m late.”

neglecting your book and food, you hastily grab your bag and head out to your following class.

he chuckles to himself, finding your flustered demeanor adorbale. he looks down at where you sat.

"hey! you forgot your-" the freshman exclaims but you had left and no traces of your silhouette could be found.

he bends down, plucking your book and analyzing it for any name.

'you would definitely be back for this' he thought to himself.

peeping at your un-opened chocolate milk, he looks around before snagging it.

"free milk for me," he hums to himself.

you, on the other hand

you aspired to punch yourself for three purposes.

one, you forgot your food and you were perishing.

two, your book was gone

three, that damn freshman.

you were too ashamed to show your face infront of him. not when he caught you profusely blushing from a wink.

for the next few days, you dodge your usual spot and lingered in the library instead.

that method came to an end because you didn't realize how many OVER affectionate couples occupied the library.

you had mentally battled with yourself, forgetting to pay attention in classes.

'there was a chance he wasn't going to be there'

'but there's also a possibility that he'll be there"

you decided to convince yourself that he wouldn't be there. you craved not being shoved in a cubicle and have couples make out in your favorite book isles.

the next day you head to the maple tree and before you sit, you glance at the encompassing areas.

you didn’t see any traces of a lanky, blonde boy near the tree or IN the tree.

and assuming the coast was clear, you relax.

the previous book you were reading was nowhere to be seen so you brought a new book, frankly in love

you plug in headphones to tune out and you immersed yourself into the book. after a few minutes, your earbud comes out or more specifically, taken out. 

you look up and nearly screamed. the freshman boy was dangling off the tree with your right earbud in hand. barely an inch away from your face.

this was the closest anybody has been to your face and you tried not to make any sudden movements.

“what are you doing?” you furrow your eyebrows at the boy hanging. he flashed you a radiant smile that put the sun out of business before jumping down, landing smoothly.

your cheeks became warm again, grasping that you were gradually falling for this freshman you didn't know the name of.

“sorry! i just wanted to talk to you” he cheekily said, “nice blush” 

“that's fine i guess? AND i'm not blushing, i was just startled,” you avoid eye-contact.

he playfully rolls his eyes before extending his hand to you with your book.

"i believe this is yours?" the boy returns you the book you rummaged for.

your eyes widen, realizing that he had the book the whole time.

"oh my gosh! i was looking for this everywhere," you blurted.

you look at him and he smiles.

you fall back into being stiff. you had never been this anxious under someone's gaze until you met him.

this time, you tried to kindle a conversation.

“why do you want to talk to me?” you ask curiously.

you had never had someone excited to talk to you like this. you were wishing that his interest was genuine.

he pauses to consider a bit, placing a finger to his chin.

“you’re interesting and i want to get to know you more, toto” he hums and you're perplexed by the suddenly calling.

'toto? that's new'

“toto? that’s not my name, why are you calling me that?” you tilt your head.

you didn't know what was weirder, the nickname or the freshman aspiring to get to know you.

“don’t worry about it,” he smiles, 

"why are you alone out here? shouldn't you be eating in the canteen?” he settles next to you.

for the first time, you locked eyes with him and it was dangerous. you could get lost in his eyes if you gazed for too long.

“because i want to, what is with the Q&A? are we playing twenty questions?” you sneer.

this freshman recognized how to push the right buttons to make you flustered at the precise moments.

“maybe, or is it a date?” he answered

you just choked on your own saliva and you hoped he didn't catch that.

it grew quiet and he stared at you with a fixed gaze. feeling awkward, you shove the other earbud into his ear.

he flinches from the abrupt contact but loosens and smiles, recognizing the song that resonated from your earbuds.

“toto, is this she’s in the rain by the rose?” he gasps.

it shocked you because not many people know this band.

“yeah, you know the rose? this is my favorite song from them” you flash a smile, feeling content.

'something in common, maybe he's not so bad'

you both softly sway together, occasionally bumping shoulders.

"nishimura riki," he says.

you didn't catch what he said, "hm?"

"nishimura riki is my name, but you can call me ni-ki," he smiles at you.

"(y/n) (l/n), (y/n) sunbae to you," you laugh.

"what if i called you mine instead?"

[the nickname toto, came from tomato! the reader blushes easily and ni-ki is quick to notice, rebranding her as toto <3]

[translations-by-aiimee]

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 3

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

TW for this chapter: Mentions of slave trafficking

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 3 - Born Without Tears

The red-dressed beauty lightly opened his vermilion lips and blew into the jade flute. The flute sound was full of lingering affection, softly touching his heart, as if he was inviting all listeners to join the red curtain and share the scenery together.

Song Qingshi's mother was an internationally renowned pianist. Because of her influence, music had become Song Qingshi's only hobby outside of school. In the last days of Song Qingshi's life, he had lost all body functions, but his consciousness was extremely clear.

His mother invested heavily in installing top-notch audio equipment in his room to play music everyday. She also asked top musicians in various fields to give him a small concert every day.

Music rescued him from the brink of despair and soothed his heart. During this special time, Song Qingshi was particularly sensitive to the emotions in music. He could hear the player's tenderness in the passionate piano music, and he could also find hidden encouragement in the sad and solemn guzheng music. . .

Now, he heard the familiar struggle and despair in the lingering and affectionate sound of the flute.

Song Qingshi finally raised his head, staring at the brilliant phoenix in a daze. He could no longer look away.

Jin FeiRen found out that Song Qing finally became interested in one of the beauties, and he was overjoyed: "Song Xianzun is interested in this slave? His name is Yue Wuhuan, naturally charming, a rare wood single-spirit root. That means he's much more resistant when tossing him around in bed. The more you rough him up, the more unhinged he comes. Those who have tried it have never failed to boast about it. Do you want to taste him first?"

Song Qingshi's ears were reddened by his explicit recommendation. He quickly turned his eyes away, and said dumbly: "No need."

"Medicine Master Xianzun is clean and does not engage in those activities. If you don't love these things, don't force him, friend." LingBao Xianzun came over, pointing to Yue Wuhuan and exclaimed, "If I remember, was this the best product sold by Xie Que? This immortal world is still the best place for him to raise beautiful people; one is more tasteful than the last. Alas, I have a friend who is his good friend, and all kinds of better goods will be sold to you first."

Jin FeiRen waved his hand and said, "You flatter me. What he really has a good relationship with are thirty hu of mermaid pearls."

LingBao Xianzun laughed: "If all friendships in the world could be created with money, my friend would be surrounded by the most affectionate people in the world. Come, come, let me have three cups with my friend and celebrate the wind and moon together.

Jin FeiRen also laughed, and ordered the young man in his arms to fill a glass of wine and drink with LingBao Xianzun.

LingBao Xianzun had already drunk a lot. He was slightly drunk. He leaned against the table and listened to the flute. He exclaimed: "I remember that when this beauty first entered this place, he was reluctant to accompany guests, even under the control of Acacia Seal. It was very interesting to see, but now he has become so promiscuous, and his flavour has changed. You have great methods, my friend."

Jin FeiRen shook his head: "It's a pity that this beauty doesn't cry no matter how rough you toss him around. He was born without tears, and because of that, some of his appeal has been lost."

Song Qingshi heard the professional question and couldn't help answering: "Being born without tears may be a problem with the lacrimal secretion system."

Jin Fei was dumbfounded for a moment. He appreciated his friendship with Song Qingshi, but he couldn't keep up with his medical obsession. He had to laugh awkwardly and switch off the topic: "Don't look at this beauty's promiscuity deceive you. In the mortal world, he was also a noble and respectable prince. When he was eight years old, Xie Que found that he had excellent aptitude when he was looking for beauties in the mortal world, so he showed his supernatural powers and presented the emperor with a pill for prolonging life. The old emperor was so happy that he happily gave his son to the immortal leader. Xie Que is also an ingenious person. He will seriously accept mortals with spiritual roots as disciples, and coax them to trust him. Then he uses that trust to trick them to sign the spiritual contract of voluntary slavery. He then teaches them superficial techniques, and, when they appear to be at their peak, brands them with the Acacia Seal. He always gets them when the colour is at the best time for picking, and then sells them to the brothels to serve in their rooms.

Although everyone knew he was taking advantage of those loopholes, they all turned a blind eye and eventually accepted this method of slave trafficking."

The Yanshou Pill can only be taken once to extend someone's life to reach 100 years old.

Cultivators can live at least three hundred years so long as they build a good foundation base. They don't need this tasteless kind of thing at all. Most of them are bought for their mortal servants. The price is very cheap, only worth two low-grade spirit stones. Such huge profits have continued to promote the slave trade.

There is an endless stream of cultivators in the trade, but none of them are well-versed as Xie Que.

Song Qingshi was surprised to find in his memory that the original body had seen Xie Que before.

That spring, the original body was studying a new way to create pills behind closed doors. Xie Que came to seek medical treatment with a comatose child. The child was a mortal, about eleven or twelve years old, with a rare pure yang physique and a wood spiritual root. Moreover, when he reached the third rank, his talents were different, and he was even better than some of the wasted descendants of various immortal families. Xie Que said that it was his new apprentice who had recruited more than three years ago. When he went to the mountains to practice, he was bitten by a Devil Mask Snake. Devil Mask Snakes are not extremely poisonous, but they will turn the faces of the poisoned person different colours, just like they were wearing a mask.

The original body typically didn't treat mortals, but Xie cried out in tears, saying that this was his most important apprentice, and he was willing to pay a high price to save him. The original body was in a good mood at the time, and was annoyed by his repeated crying. The Devil Mask Snake poison was also easy to detoxify. He finally relented and ordered a servant to give him two detoxification pills and ordered Xie Que not to cry again.

Xie Que stayed beside the apprentice’s bed and took care of him for three days. The apprentice woke up from a coma, his body no longer in a serious condition, but it took time for the ghost marks on his face to disappear. They stayed in the valley for half a month, and waited until his apprentice's face fully recovered.

During that time, the peach blossoms in the medicine garden bloomed just right, like red brocade all over the sky. When the original body encounters a problem with his alchemy, he often sits in a high place and looks at the peach blossoms and thinks. Every time, the original body would see a small figure under the peach blossom practicing swordsmanship. He practiced in the morning, at noon, and at night, as if it had become a landscape of symbiosis with the peach blossoms.

Mortals trying to cultivate immortality are like a fish leaping over a dragon's gate. The path comes with many difficulties and dangers, and there are few successful ones.

Xie Que was always by his side, with a worried expression on his face. He was either afraid that he would drop his sword or that he would become exhausted. The two quarreled several times. On a whim, the original's body and mind let out a spiritual thought to investigate. He heard the child say to Xie Que: "Master, although mortals are not as good as immortals, my father taught me to reward my diligence, and diligence can make up for my weaknesses. So I have to work harder and never waste time."

"What you said makes sense," Xie Que tried to persuade him with a bitter face. "Your injury has not healed. I'm afraid you might hurt your body. And. . . why do you have to practice sword? Entertaining cultivation, wouldn’t it be better for you to learn some flute, piano or something?"

"Master taught me to use music to cultivate Taoism is very good," the child scratched his head embarrassedly. "But I like swords, I want to be like Mo Yuan Jianzun. Master, rest assured, I know all the songs you taught me. I practiced better than my senior brothers and sisters, and I definitely don't put off practice."

Xie Que had no choice but to say: "I will find you the right ice silk gloves later. You must wear them when you practice swords. You must soak your hands with lotion at night to make your hands soft. This will prevent calluses, so you won't miss the subsequent practice."

The child cheered, excitedly: "Master, you are so kind."

"Don't get hurt," Xie Que lightly knocked on his forehead and complained. "You naughty devil. Your master is terrified. From now on, stay in the sects when you practice, and you are not allowed to go to the back mountains. Take breaks as well to avoid ruining your eyes."

The child accepted all these conditions.

Xie Que leaned over, rubbed his head gently, and sighed: "You don't know how much Master values you. . ."

"I know." The child raised his head and said in a serious voice: "I know that the immortal world looks down on mortals that cultivate immortality, and even looks down on the master who only accepts mortals as disciples. I don't want to shame my master, so I must cultivate a Golden Core to prove to everyone that Master’s vision is right!"

Xie Que looked at his face silently, his eyes distant and difficult to distinguish.

The child pulled Xie Que's sleeves, turned his eyes, and said embarrassedly: "Wuhuan likes Master the most!"

Xie Que stretched out his fingertips, stroked the child's colorful face, looked carefully, and finally stopped reluctantly on the small red mole under his left eye, which was dazzlingly beautiful. He was silent for a long time, showing a very kind smile: "Master also likes you the most."

. . .

[frangelic999]

Resident Evil Time

As we all know, Spooky Season began on August 1st, as it does every year. Skeletons began to emerge from the earth, and we all joined together to help along the slightly unripe ones with just a knuckle bone sticking up out of the lawn. Pumpkins rolled down into town from the foothills, snuggling into piles of radiant leaves as they awaited their new, temporary keepers. Here on the west coast of America, ash began to fall from the sky, as it does every season of ash, and we all went out to frolic in the ash as we gasped for air in our newly toxic Zone. It never rains in California, except when it’s raining ash. As such, around August 1st I began my quest of playing every mainline Resident Evil game, and a couple of spin-offs. What follows is the book report that I wrote on this experience.

Resident Evil is a series that’s been on my radar in one way or another as far back as 1996, when I was a kid, but I never really took a very close look at it, or wanted to, until I played RE7 in 2019. My oldest memory involving this game is wandering Blockbuster with my older brother looking for a game to rent. Another kid was there, also with their older brother, and the little kid suggested Resident Evil, but the bigger kid sagely declared “Nah, the controls are bad,” and they left it at that. I don’t know why I remember this, but I do, and my general feeling about Resident Evil was negative, I think because I had played the demo and didn’t like it, due to the fact that it’s not really designed in such a way that a kid would like it much. My first actual experience with the series, outside of that, was playing Resident Evil 3 in 1999. At the time, I loved it, but I was 12, and wouldn’t have been able to articulate anything about why I liked it other than “cool videogame, Jill pretty. Jill me.” I also played RE4 and RE5 around the time they came out, and I enjoyed them as fun action games, but still didn’t think much of the series or really care about survival horror. My other experience with the genre pretty much only extends to Alan Wake, Dino Crisis, and Dead Space, all of which I played so long ago that I remember almost nothing about them. What kind of monsters does Alan Wake fight? Couldn’t say. Could be anything, really. I remember the main character of Dino Crisis, Regina. She had red hair. Regina pretty. Regina me? Strangely enough, wanting to play the role of formidable, independent, resourceful, attractive women in games was a running theme in my formative years. What could this possibly mean? We may never know. But anyway, I was very excited to go on this journey into the survival horror franchise, and one of the most iconic franchises of all time. It had its highs and lows, but it was well worth it, and I emerged with a newfound appreciation for the design and appeal of survival horror games. The intention here isn’t to give a full, thorough analysis of these games or a breakdown of every aspect of them, but to compile my various thoughts on them, so it’s more of an opinionated overview than a deep dive. 

Resident Evil (1996)

It’s actually really hard to place this game when making a tier list, due to the simple fact that none of these other games would exist without the conventions Resident Evil set. It was groundbreaking, and literally invented a genre. At the same time, it's impossible for me to not compare it to other, better games, because I have knowledge of the rest of the series. It was an experiment for Capcom, and it shows in the game's rough edges. It feels like it had good ideas that didn’t always live up to their full potential, due to some combination of inexperience, available hardware/software, and questionable implementation.

RE1 is... not very good at being scary. It does its best, but it's a fairly early PS1 game. I think a lot of this has to do with the atmosphere and graphics. Visually, it’s just kind of ugly in that early PS1 way, and the color choices are dull and lack cohesion. For a horror game taking place in a spooky dilapidated mansion, it feels a little too bright, and I’m guessing it has to do with the fact that no one really knew how to make darkness convincing on PS1 at the time. But it’s not entirely the PS1’s fault this game is ugly, as you can see from RE2 and RE3 being not ugly. The color choices and backgrounds just aren’t especially lush or interesting.

I don't really need to go into the voice acting and writing of this game, due to their status of legendary badness. The live action cutscenes are unbelievably cheesy and almost impossible to watch with a straight face. The live action ending where Jill and Chris hold hands as they fly away in a helicopter is incredibly dumb. If you correctly chose Jill as your main character, it just seems incongruous that after fighting her way out of a deathtrap of horrifying creatures, she's now laying her head on the big strong man's shoulder. It’s bad, but fortunately the game isn’t entirely bad narratively. It was surprising, in a game from 1996, to see the in-world documents scattered around that add to the narrative, telling you what's really going on and adding detail to the broader strokes of the story. This is a thing that's ubiquitous in games now, AAA or otherwise, and I'm wondering if this game helped to establish that facet of games. RE1 has a simple story of evil corporate experiments gone wrong, with the driving force behind everything the player/character does being escape from the mansion, and this simplicity really works in its favor. As we shall see in later RE games, convoluted stories don’t really lend themselves all that well to horror. 

If you look at other games released in 1996, there are a lot of fast paced action games, like 3D platformers and first person shooters, as well as RPGs, and it's clear this game was something different. It has that slow, methodical play that makes survival horror feel unique. The feeling of not knowing what's waiting for you behind the next door, but knowing you have to go anyway, and that balance between surviving and solving puzzles to progress. The backtracking and item hunts, the interlocking paths and puzzles, the environmental storytelling and documents, the sense of isolation, it's all here in the first game. Some players may not find inventory management thrilling, but it’s a key part of these games, and it’s mostly done well in the good ones. Inventory management and item scarcity are a big part of what actually captures that feeling of “survival horror.” Since items are needed to progress, your inventory is directly tied to your progress, and at its best this forces you to make tough decisions about what you really need to carry and by extension makes you play more conservatively and prioritize avoidance. At its worst, it forces you to go back to previous areas for no reason and wastes your time while hurting the pace of the game, which RE1 is only guilty of at one point toward the end. The more weapons and ammo you have, the less room you have to do the work of actually progressing in the game through item-based puzzles, so you often have to sacrifice some of your lethality to progress smoothly. There’s a fine line between giving the player too many resources and too few, and almost all good survival horror games walk that line very well. It's also just thematically appropriate that your character isn't able to lug around a hundred pounds of gear. The open-ended nature of exploration, or the illusion thereof, is also an important aspect of survival horror. In good Resident Evil games, you usually have multiple doors you can choose to open, multiple potential paths, and feeling out which one is right, and which places are safe to travel, is a big part of the game. That exploratory feeling of gradually extending your reach and knowledge of the place you're in, knowing how vulnerable you are but also knowing you have to keep going deeper, gives the player a much greater sense of agency than more linear horror experiences.

All of these good design elements are firmly established by RE1, but they're just not executed as well as in future Resident Evil and survival horror titles, and by today's standards, playing it can feel like a chore. I think it certainly deserves a huge amount of credit for establishing almost everything that's good and defining about survival horror. There were earlier horror themed games, and I'm sure there are online people who'd be strangely invested in arguing that it's not the first survival horror game, but Resident Evil was clearly something new, different, and more sophisticated. It feels like a beginning, a rough draft, but it established something special. In some ways, I feel like RE1 has actually aged better than a lot of its 1996 contemporaries. Not in terms of controls, visuals or voice acting, heavens no. But, in terms of things like a focus on atmosphere, good pacing, and elegant, focused design, much of it still holds up today.

-Monster Review Corner-

These are the monsters that started it all. Zombies, undead dogs, hunters, Tyrant, and the absolute classic, a big plant that hates you. And who can forget the most forgettable monsters, giant spiders? The enemies themselves aren't especially exciting, but honestly, they work very well for the style and slow pace of this game. The deadly mansion full of the living dead is a classic horror setting. Things like Hunters and Tyrant seem pedestrian by series standards now, but they would have been a surprise in a zombie game in 1996, and Hunters are terrifying when they first appear. Overall monster score: 7/10

Time to complete: 5:46

Games were shorter overall in 1996, but the short game length is another survival horror trait the game established, and that brevity is a trait I really appreciate about this series and the genre as a whole. 

Resident Evil 2 (1998)

I feel like I’m going to be using the word “better” a lot. RE2 is immediately more cinematic than its predecessor, which is a good thing. It’s an important element of establishing tension and atmosphere. All the best horror movies, in my opinion, have smart and artful cinematography behind them. I’m not going to say Resident Evil 2 has masterful cinematic direction, but it’s a vast improvement over the previous game. Gone are the super cheesy FMV cutscenes and the atrocious voice acting. The voice acting here isn't great by today's standards, but people do talk mostly like humans! This must be due to the fact that it was the first time Capcom ever outsourced voice acting to a studio outside of Japan. The writing is also much, much better. The soundtrack is much more atmospheric, and even the save room music is better. Visually, the game looks so much better. Character models are more detailed and lifelike, and backgrounds are much more detailed, colorful and cohesive. I vastly prefer the character designs to those of RE1. They’re very 90s, in a fun anime way. Even the portraits in the inventory screen look way better. Even the story and the documents you find are more well written and interesting, and Umbrella is established as a more sinister and far-reaching presence. 

RE2 gives you separate campaigns for Claire and Leon that are similar, but different in some major ways. Rather than being a super long game, it has a short campaign that can be replayed multiple times with different characters for improved ranks, unlockables, and short bonus levels. I actually really like this kind of replayability, as opposed to the much more common type of replayability of modern games, which is just making the game 100 hours long and filled with boring sidequests, trinkets and skill points. This is  partially because I inevitably burn out on that kind of game, even if I like it (Horizon Zero Dawn, Breath of the Wild) and never finish the game. Super Bunnyhop has a whole video (“Let’s Talk About Game Length”) about the advantages of this game’s style of replay value which is worth a watch. I’m much more likely to rank a game among my favorites if I’m actually compelled to finish it. I’m always annoyed by how persistently gamers thoughtlessly complain about these games (or any game for that matter) being too short. Gee, maybe that has something to do with why 4, 5, and 6 all feel so bloated and outstay their welcome. Funny how the three most recent games in the series that brought it back from the brink of total irrelevance are all under ten hours in length.

The level design feels less haphazard and boring than RE1, but retains the satisfying sense of interconnectedness that the original mansion had. The balance of the game is good, and it feels dangerous without ever feeling unfair, like all the best RE games. Distribution of healing items and ammo feels right - I rarely felt like I was in serious danger of running out, but I always felt the pressure to conserve ammo and remember where healing items were to pick up later. This game is also a sterling example of the kinds of boss fights that work in survival horror. Rather than being reflex tests, boss fights are more a test of how smartly and conservatively you’ve been playing. If you’ve saved enough powerful ammo by playing well, you’ll have no problem with boss monsters, and there’s also the alligator fight, which, if you were paying attention to the area you just traversed, can be ended with one bullet. 

Overall, it’s a huge improvement over RE1 in every way imaginable, and a genuinely good game even by today’s standards, if you discount the cheesy voice acting and dated cutscenes. I finished RE1 in two sittings because I wanted to get it over with, but I finished RE2 nearly as fast because it was hard to stop playing. This is where the series came into its own, and RE2 feels like the beginning of the series as we know it today, while RE1 feels more like an experimental rough draft.

-Monster Review Corner-

This game, overall, has some great monsters. Fantastic monsters, and this is where you’ll find ‘em. First, we’ve got your classic zombies. Classic. We’ve got your zombie dogs, two for one deal. We’ve got some evil birds who inexplicably burst through a window one time. Okay, decent. Giant spiders, boooring. But then, here comes a new challenger! It’s lickers, one of perhaps the most iconic Resident Evil monsters. These nasty wall crawlin’ flesh puppies have got exposed brains, big ol’ claws, razor sharp tongues and a complete lack of sight. Due to this last fact, you can avoid them by being very quiet, which is extremely survival horror. Lickers are great. RE2 also has a giant alligator, which even the RE2 remake team thought was too silly to include in the remake (but to the great relief of everyone around the world, he made it anyway). Personally, I love the fact that they brought the classic urban cryptid, the mutant sewer gator, into the RE family. RE2 also has a Tyrant who chases you around in the second scenario. He’s just Nemesis before Nemesis. There are also big plant monsters who look like walking venus fly traps, totally rad. And finally, all of the G-Mutation designs pretty much set the stage for the monster design of all future RE mutants, including Nemesis. They have this alien, body horror feel to them that’s become a hallmark of the series. Overall monster score: 10/10

Time to complete: 5:06

Resident Evil 3: Nemesis (1999)

RE3 has a darker tone than RE2, a lot of quality of life changes, and the terrifying presence of an unstoppable Nemesis. It’s a more combat oriented game, not in that combat is more complex, but in that there are more weapons, more ammo, faster zombies, and in comparison to the two previous games there are more times where it’s safer to kill enemies than avoid them. Jill can also dodge and quick turn. Dodging is fine, and quick turn, was an excellent addition that’s been in every RE since then, minus RE7. It’s a very good game, but the fact that there are fewer moments of quiet exploration and puzzling detracts from the variety of the game and makes it feel more one note. It definitely feels more like an action movie, not just in its increased amount of fighting but also in its story beats and cutscenes. I think it’s important to make a distinction between the style of this game and RE4/5/6, in that those are action games with light or nonexistent survival horror elements, while this is a survival horror game with action elements. I played the game on hard mode, because this game only has hard and easy mode. Hard is essentially normal, it's what you'd come to expect from the series, and easy mode is easy and gives you an assault rifle at the start. 

The titular Nemesis is such a great way to change up the Resident Evil formula. The first time you encounter him, he kills Brad in a cutscene, and you run into the police station. You think he’ll just appear at certain times during cutscenes and maybe a boss fight, but then a little while later he bursts through a window and chases you, and he’s faster than anything encountered previously in the series. That’s when it becomes clear that you’re going to be hunted, and from that point on Nemesis is in the back of your mind at all times, injecting an undercurrent of paranoia into every moment of methodical exploration. Although, I do have complaints about Nemesis, too. If you’re familiar with the series up to this point, his appearances are undermined by that very knowledge. What I mean is that if you played the first two games, you start to get a sense of when events or attacks are going to be triggered in Resident Evil, and that makes Nemesis much more predictable. You start to think “whelp, it’s about time for another Nemesis attack,” and then he shows up. Also, the first time you’re actually supposed to stand and fight him is an awful boss fight, and the first really bad boss fight in the series. The game’s dodge mechanic is finicky and hard to time, and it’s an important part of winning the fight, at least on hard mode. He’s basically a bullet sponge, which is not interesting. 

Something that I like about three is it really expands on the setting by giving you lots of details about Umbrella and their relation to Raccoon City. You learn that not only have they infiltrated the city government and police, but a lot of the city's infrastructure was funded by Umbrella donations. You also learn that they maintain their own paramilitary force and are a far reaching, international corporation. Umbrella is really fleshed out as a more robust and powerful organization here. 

Another unique aspect of this game, that’s never been in another RE game, is the “choose your own adventure” system. Nemesis will be after you, and you can choose between two different options, such as running into the sewers or hiding in the kitchen. You have a limited time to make these choices, and they have positive or negative outcomes, but never outright kill you, as far as I could tell. It’s kind of neat, and an interesting way to change things up occasionally, but not especially important. 

Overall, this is an excellent Resident Evil game, though a good deal less original and groundbreaking than RE2.

-Monster Review Corner-

Honestly, most of the monsters are fine, but nothing to write home about. Nemesis is the star of the show, which you can already tell by the fact that the game is named after him and he’s on the front cover. He’s like the cooler, better, more deadly version of a Tyrant. Nemesis score: 10/10

Time to complete: 5:32

An Aside About Puzzles

I’ve been trying to figure out how to articulate what I like about the puzzles in this series, and this seems as good a place to put these thoughts as any. I get that not everyone likes the puzzles in this series, and that many of them can only be called puzzles in a very loose sense, but I think they add a crucial ingredient to the games.

The thing is, if they were more complicated or difficult puzzles, they would take up too much screen time, they would overpower the rest of the game, like too much salt in a dish. There are a lot of them where you have to follow riddle-like clues to figure out what to do, but they're all pretty easy. There are a lot of item hunts that boil down to finding item A and bringing it to point B, or combining item A with item B and using the result at point C, and I remember plenty of jokes over the years playfully lampooning this facet of Resident Evil. But, while playing through these games, I found myself dissatisfied with the view that these item hunts and simple puzzles are stupid, or bad game design. Because really, what makes these games good is not shooting or puzzles or atmosphere or good monsters, but all of these elements working together in harmony. It seems like the more harmonious that balance, the better the Resident Evil game. All these little parts make up the whole. The puzzles aren't hard, sure, but they aren't meant to be. They add an element of sleuthing and a sense of accomplishment and progression that would otherwise be lacking, and which could easily slip into frustration if they were any more difficult, and detract from the overall experience. If you just went around and shot at monsters and opened doors, it would be missing something big, and it would be a much poorer series. If you need evidence of that, may I direct you to Resident Evils 4 to 6. Without that exploratory feeling, without that aha feeling of figuring it out, it would feel bland. "If I use this item to open this, then I get this thing and I combine it with this, it frees up space in my inventory, and now I can take them back to the spot I remember from earlier because I was paying attention and taking mental notes, and I can open this path..." I'd argue that this feeling of things clicking together neatly, of attentive and methodical play paying off, is integral to the series and to the entire genre it spawned. The whole game is a puzzle that you’re figuring out, and things like item juggling, map knowledge, and carefully leaving enough space in your inventory are a part of that puzzle. 

The puzzles in the series are more representational than what might usually be called a puzzle. The item lugging, inventory swapping parts that I remember being maligned at one time are more akin to piecing together a jigsaw puzzle, but those pieces are scattered across a monster infested, carefully designed, difficult to traverse map. What made RE7 feel so much like a revival of Resident Evil, despite it being a first person game that looks and feels very little like its predecessors, was returning to this approach to game design. It was a polished and well made return to the principles that made survival horror popular. The fact that Capcom brought back all those often complained about puzzles and item hunts, and slashed the current idea of game length to ribbons, returning to the roots of the series, and then those games being so highly praised, feels so right in part because it feels like the developers are saying "look, a lot of you were totally wrong about what made these games good."

Resident Evil - Code: Veronica (2000)

To me the most immediately noticeable thing about this game is Claire’s embarrassingly early-2000s outfit: high rise boot cut jeans, cowgirl boots, a short-sleeved crop top jacket, all topped off with a pink choker and fingerless gloves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen character design that so perfectly encapsulates the time period of a game’s release. It’s bad, and the game only gets worse from there. 

I really tried to like Code Veronica, at first. But after playing RE1-3, saying it's underwhelming is putting it lightly. I honestly don't think I have a single good thing to say about this game, and it's possibly the worst mainline Resident Evil game ever made (RE6 being the only thing that might take that crown of trash in its stead). It's pretty much not possible to take Code Veronica seriously in any way, especially not as a horror game. The visuals have no sense of darkness or atmosphere and manage to look much worse than the old pre-rendered graphics, the puzzles are uninspired rehash, the enemies and bosses are irritating, the character designs are a particular type of early-2000s bad, the voice acting is insufferable, the story is asinine, and the game is full of the bad kind of backtracking. It's not entirely the game's fault it's ugly, it's a product of its time, but it's weird to see in retrospect because it looks worse than RE3 from one year prior. Previous RE games had bad voice acting, but this is the first one where the voice acting makes you want to turn the game off. 

Up until this point, the storylines of Resident Evil games were very simple. Evil corporation caused chaos with a virus, get out alive. There are details scattered throughout about how the city and government were being paid off, but that’s the gist of it. Code Veronica is where the lore of RE starts to get convoluted and sometimes very dumb. I won’t go into all the ways the story is bad, but suffice it to say this is definitely when Resident Evil jumped the shark, and it paves the way for the stupidity of RE4. It also uses the “mentally ill people are scary” horror trope, which is perhaps my least favorite horror trope. The villain for most of the game, Alfred, has *gasp* a split personality and thinks he’s also his sister. Of course, at one point Claire calls him a “crossdressing freak.” I’ll just leave it at that. Of course nobody who writes this kind of thing bothers to do any kind of research into the mental illnesses they use as story crutches. I feel like I need to mention the voice acting, for Steve and Alfred particularly. Steve sounds like he walked off of a middle school campus, and Alfred sounds like your local community theater’s production of Sweeney Todd. They’re both absolutely atrocious and make the game that much more annoying to play. Claire’s acting is about what you’d expect from a Saturday morning cartoon of the era.

As though the fact that it's a bad game visually and narratively wasn't enough, it's also badly designed, not much fun to play, and way longer than the previous three. The game’s map, at least for Claire’s portion (most of the game), is divided into multiple small areas, each with one path leading to them, so you have to go over these paths repeatedly once you’ve retrieved an item from a completely different area, and it makes for a lot of very tiresome backtracking. The series always had backtracking, of course, but never over such long, samey stretches of space. On top of this, there are tons of blatantly bad design choices. To name a few:

-The hallway you have to traverse multiple times containing moths which poison you and respawn every time you leave and are really hard to hit on top of being a waste of ammo. It’s hard to see how they were unaware that this is bad since they also leave an infinite supply of poison antidotes in the same room

-The fact that there’s no indication whatsoever that you should leave items behind for the next character you have to play, which left me struggling to even be able to kill enemies as Chris

-Multiple times where in order to trigger progress you have to look at or pick up a certain thing, not for any logical in-game reason but just because it triggers a cutscene. One of these makes you look at the same thing twice, and I wandered around not knowing what to do for a while before checking a walkthrough

-More than one save room that contains no item box, when this game asks you to constantly juggle items and repeatedly travel long distances with specific items

There’s more, but I don’t want to write or think about this bad game anymore. This game is a slag heap that deserves to be forgotten, and I hope it’s never remade. Something I find really disappointing about Code Veronica is that the setting is ripe for a good Resident Evil game, but they botch it. It takes place in two locations, a secret island prison run by Umbrella, and an antarctic research station, both of which I can imagine a great RE game taking place in. I guess, really, the best thing that can be said about Code Veronica is that it’s a survival horror game. They didn’t totally stray from the principles that made the series good, they just implemented those things very badly, in a very stupid game.

Time to complete: who knows, I quit near the final stretch of the game. The internet says it takes about 12:30, which is far too long.

REmake (2002)

I played the remake first, and it’s the only game I played out of order, because when I started I had no plans to play the entire series. It’s a remake that fixes everything wrong or dated about the original while keeping the things that made it good, and I would say it’s the definitive version of the game and the one that should be played. 

Visually, a lot of it looks very good, and uses darkness much better than the original. I like this game’s high def pre-rendered backgrounds, because it’s like looking into an alternate reality where pre-rendered graphics never went away, and just increased in fidelity. I actually really like a lot of the backgrounds in this game. Pre-rendered backgrounds have their shortcomings, but I think they can play a role in horror games. They give the developers total control of how things are framed, and framing/direction are a big part of what can make things ominous or scary in horror movies. You can do this to some extent in games with free cameras, but without nearly as much control. I think over time the popular consensus became that pre-rendered backgrounds are inherently bad, but I think like any style of graphics they have their pros and cons. The late 90s Final Fantasies are great examples of how pre-rendered graphics can be used to frame characters and events in certain ways.

The strongest suit of this game is that it really feels like a horror game, and avoidance is encouraged over combat due to scarce ammo and healing. The pace is slow and thoughtful, the mansion is sprawling and claustrophobic, and even one or two zombies feels like a threat, especially before you find the shotgun. Even after that, shotgun shells are fairly scarce. Like the original, combat mechanics are intentionally very simple and limited, though this one sees the introduction of the defensive items that return in the RE2 and 3 remakes. One thing I really like is that if you kill a zombie and leave their body, without decapitating or burning it, it will eventually mutate into a fast and powerful zombie, and these are genuinely threatening to encounter. You constantly have to make decisions in this game about what’s more important, immediate safety or conserving ammo. The fuel that’s used to burn corpses is limited, and can be used strategically to eliminate threats from frequently traveled areas. It’s a great idea for a game mechanic, but in practice, I rarely did this, because inventory is so limited that it didn’t feel worthwhile to use two of my eight slots on a lighter and fuel. Another nice added horror element is the fact that doors aren’t always safe. You’ll hear monsters pounding on doors, see them shaking, and at multiple points they’ll be smashed open when you thought you were safe.

A lot of the ideas that made this game good and the original good are ideas that were returned to in RE7, the RE3 remake, and especially the RE2 remake, and a big part of what made those games so successful. 

Time to complete: 10:15

In my opinion it ran a little too long. It takes almost twice as long as the original, and I feel like the added areas pad out that length rather than improving the game. Even though I think it’s a very good game, it started feeling like a slog in the last few hours.

Resident Evil Zero (2002)

After Code Veronica, it was initially refreshing to feel like I was actually playing Resident Evil again and not some subpar knockoff. This one feels a lot more like classic RE, and in its slower pace it’s most similar to REmake or the original trilogy. I played the HD remaster of RE0(which changes nothing but the graphics) since it's the one I own on steam, so I can't speak to the original GameCube graphics, but the art direction itself is vastly better, and it creates an atmosphere that's perfectly Resident Evil. Highly detailed backgrounds, with rich dark colors, old paintings, dusty bookshelves, soft clean lighting, marble and dark wood, wind-rustled ivy, shadows and rain, creep dilapidated industrial spaces. The HD remaster is gorgeous, and one of the best looking games in the series.

This game adds two major new mechanics: playing as a team of two and swapping between characters, and the ability to drop items anywhere. Character swapping is an interesting gimmick, made more of a curiosity by the fact that it will probably never be used again in a RE game. Often it's pretty neat, but just as often, it's an annoying chore. I like the idea of controlling two characters, but I don't think what they attempted to do with it was entirely successful, and could have been better with a couple of simple changes. Ultimately all the inventory management required feels like more trouble than it's worth, especially since you have to carry weapons and ammo for both characters. Between inventory management and swapping off-character actions, I found myself in the inventory screen a lot more than in previous games. It seems like they could have alleviated these problems with more inventory space and buttons for switching off-character actions. Most of the time it ends up feeling like a chore to manage two characters and two separate inventories. In theory, the ability to drop items anywhere adds an element of player choice and planning, but in practice, I just found myself missing the item box that allows you to access the same items from different places.

This game is fine for the first hour or two, but ends up getting more and more frustrating the farther you get into it. After playing about half the game, I started feeling like I'd be having a less terrible time on easy mode. I died in it a lot more times than in any previous game. The combination of really irritating new enemy types and all weapons (even the grenade launcher) feeling underpowered means there are multiple enemy encounters where you're just forced to lose health. This wouldn't be so bad if there were enough healing items around, but there aren't. Every enemy in the game, even a basic zombie, feels too bullet sponge-y. I repeatedly found myself with very little ammo and no healing items, so in a lot of situations I would just die, and reloading with the foreknowledge of what rooms would contain felt like the only way to progress. Managing the health of two characters, one who has very low health, makes it that much harder. I played through all of the previous games on normal difficulty (RE3 on hard) so I know I'm not imagining the spike in difficulty. It's possible they wanted to make this game challenging for series veterans, but if that's the case they missed the mark, because part of what makes a good RE game is excellent balance of difficulty. In a good RE, you always feel like you're facing adversity but still progressing, and you really don't die all that often if you're being careful and using the right weapons for situations. In RE0, you just die a lot to frustrating video game garbage and feel irritated that you have to reload and repeat content. To make matters even worse, aiming feels weirdly sticky in this game and movement feels clunkier than previous games for some reason.

Just like Code Veronica, this game has a premise that seems like it should excel as a Resident Evil game, but it misses the mark. With the new mechanics, it feels like they were struggling to think of ways to further refine and reinvent a series that was getting a little tired. I love the formula of the first three games, but I can understand why after six games following that same formula, with a lot of very similar in-game occurrences and puzzles, they wanted to move in a different direction with RE4. This game feels like it's floundering, attempting to reinvent the series while being chained to the same rules, and though I have mixed or negative feelings about the next three games, it feels like the series was in dire need of a total overhaul.

-Monster Review Corner-

Whoever designed the monsters in this game thought that giant animals are absolutely horrifying. Giant bat, giant scorpion, giant centipede, giant roaches. There are also guys made of leeches, and they're pretty boring and annoying to fight, and it's hard not to find the way they move comedic. There are also hunters and your typical zombies. All in all, a lackluster offering of critters. Overall monster score: 3/10

Resident Evil 4 (2005)

Let's get the obvious out of the way: this game feels almost nothing like Resident Evil, and feels less and less like it the further into it you get. The devs made sure to do a lot of things that make RE4’s identity as an action game very obvious. It’s a game of series firsts: first in the series with an over the shoulder camera, first with weapon stats, first with such an abundance of enemies and weapons, first with QTEs, first where the primary enemies aren’t shambling zombies, first with currency and a merchant, the first where Umbrella isn’t the big bad, the first where you can karate kick and suplex enemies. It’s incredibly not survival horror. It might succeed as a 2005 action game, but it fails miserably at being Resident Evil.

I’m feeling generous, so I’ll start with the things I like about RE4. I really do appreciate that it’s a slower and more methodical action game than its contemporaries, and precise, thoughtful shooting is rewarded. I also like that the over the shoulder camera gives you a pretty narrow field of view, which makes it always feel like enemies could be lurking just off screen. This makes things more tense and is often used to surprise the player, especially in the early game. The almost identical perspective used in the exceptional RE2 and RE3 remakes shows that they weren’t off the mark with this element of the game’s design. However, in RE4 even this good thing is undercut by the fact that jarring, anxious combat music plays whenever enemies are anywhere nearby. The first 2-4 hours of this game, just about up to the Mendez boss, are actually a pretty good game, and provide most of the really tense and scary moments. Unfortunately, these opening hours aren’t really indicative of all the stupid shit to come. Something I grew to hate about this game is that it feels like it just goes on and on and on. It took me around 12 hours, which is short by video game standards, but long by RE standards. By the time I reached the end, it had long outstayed its welcome. Even in these early, decent moments, there was still stuff I hated, like the button mashing quick time events to run from Indiana Jones boulders, the garishly glowing item drops, the dumb kicks, the dynamite zombies.

The crux of a survival horror experience is the feeling of vulnerability, and this feeling is only scarcely captured in the opening few hours of RE4, when it’s still sort of pretending to be Resident Evil. But then, you keep getting more and more powerful, as you do in action games, you keep getting more and more weapons and upgrades and grenades and facing more and more enemies and bosses until it all feels trivial. It’s thoroughly an action game, and by the time you’re near the end, storming a military fort guarded by heavily armed commando zombies manning gatling turrets while you’re aided by helicopter support, it’s clear the game has entirely stopped masquerading as Resident Evil. On top of being a big stupid action game, it’s also extremely a video game. The glowing items that are dropped whenever enemies die, the tiny adorable treasure chests full of doubloons, the big garish video game markers for QTEs(and the most heinous kinds of QTEs: button mashing QTEs and mid-cutscene QTEs), the action movie window jumps and kicks, the cultists driving a death drill, Leon’s backflips, the dumb one-liners that scarcely make sense at times, a giant fish boss, a mine cart level. The absurd stupidity of this game never lets up, so much so that playing it in 2020, it feels almost like an intentional parody, which I know it’s not. 

The story is kind of silly from the start, and delves increasingly into the realm of asinine bullshit as it goes on, as though Capcom and Shinji Mikami sought out the dumbest ideas they could find. In RE2, Leon was a cop for one day during a zombie apocalypse, and now somehow he's working for the White House on a solo mission finding the president's daughter. It's quite the barely explained leap. One of my least favorite things in the narrative department is that Leon's voice acting and dialogue make him insufferable. The humble rookie from RE2 is gone, replaced by a heavily masculinized, aggressive, arrogant, misogynistic, backflipping action movie hero. We went from six consecutive games with women either as one of two playable main characters or the only playable character, with Jill Valentine in RE3 single-handedly destroying the most powerful BOW ever created, to a game where a gruff manly man is tasked with rescuing a literal damsel in distress, and has actual lines like “Feh, women” and “Sorry, but following a lady’s lead just isn’t my style.” It’s atrociously bad, and I hate the character they decided he should be for this game. It also doesn’t even make sense, because why would he even have that attitude towards women after seeing what Claire can do in RE2? It’s a huge step backwards for the series. On top of this awfulness, the actual plot points are just increasingly unbelievable and imbecilic, in a way that totally undercuts any way in which the game could theoretically be frightening. At the end of the game, it’s not Leon and Ashley sitting in silence as they contemplate their harrowing and traumatic experience, it’s “Mission accomplished, right Leon?! Please have sex with me!” and then they literally ride off into the sunset on a jet ski.

At first I thought they were aiming to turn a beloved survival horror series into a big dumb action movie, which is partly true, but then I realized what they had really made: an amusement park. It’s divided into themed zones, like an amusement park: there’s a spooky village, a deathtrap castle, a haunted manor, slimy sewers, an underground tomb, a Mad Max island. There are little coaster cars with purple velvet seats that carry you through the castle, there’s a mine cart ride, living suits of armor, there’s literally a giant animatronic statue of Salazar you can climb around on, there are trinkets and treasures everywhere and a merchant always magically appearing to sell you new toys to make sure you don’t ever get bored or think too hard, there’s a lava-filled carousel room with fire-breathing dragon statues, a haunted house section, a shooting gallery, a cave full of monster bugs, a hedge maze, a tower of terror where flaming barrels are rolled down the stairs(and then you get to pull the lever to roll them!), there’s a crane game, an evil villain lair with a deadly laser corridor, there is for some reason a subterranean battle maze in a cage suspended over a chasm, and your whole visit to this horror themed wonder park culminates in a jet ski ride through a collapsing cavern.

I find it baffling, but "a masterpiece", "the best Resident Evil game", and “one of the best video games ever made” are actual ways I have seen this game described. Multiple reviewers called it the best of the series, and people continue to call it that. Gone is the tense, atmospheric, resource management based survival horror gameplay, the harmonious balance of puzzles, survival and action that made this series so beloved. It’s replaced with a theme park of homogenous action gameplay and an incredibly stupid story. In my mind, it’s not Resident Evil at all, and may as well have belonged to an entirely new series that’s continued in RE5 and RE6. Another oft repeated bit of unquestioned conventional wisdom about RE4 is that it “saved the series from itself,” which is strange given that it marked the beginning of a slump that lasted over a decade. But, who knows? Maybe Resident Evil had to undergo this kind of transformation and decline to ultimately produce the four most recent Resident Evil games, all among the best of the survival horror genre. If these bad mid series games had to come first in order for the latest four exceptional games to come later, then I’ll gladly suffer their existence.

-Monster Review Corner-

Another thing I actually like about this game is a lot of the creature design work. The Mendez boss fight feels like a Resident Evil fight, and his insect-like true form looks like a classic Resident Evil BOW. Verdugo and U-3, likewise, feel like classically inhuman RE creatures, and they’d be right at home in a survival horror series entry. Regenerators and Iron Maidens are genuinely terrifying creatures – or they would be in a survival horror game. Here, they’re just another enemy to mop up. The Plagas that burst out of enemies are a shock when they first appear, and look like horrifying hybrids of The Thing and facehuggers. The chainsaw men are initially one of the best and most horror-centric additions to the game, that is, until you get powerful enough to trivialize them and they stop appearing. At least in the first two hours, they’re legitimately scary due to your narrow field of view and the fact that they one shot you. But it seems like with each thing this game may have done right, there comes something that it did very wrong. Toward the end of the game, you start fighting stuff like the zombies with huge gatling guns, and it’s very dumb. I hate these military zombies, I really do.

Overall monster score: 6/10

Overall monster score minus the merc zombies and dumb robed cultists: 9/10

Time to complete: 11:28

By around the 8 or 9 hour mark, I was practically begging for this game to end.

Resident Evil 5 (2009)

When I started this, I thought I'd like RE4 more than RE5, but it turns out 5 is a much better game. It's a big dumb action movie, but it's a much better big dumb action movie than RE4, or RE6. The action is better, the graphics and art direction are better, the controls are better, the story, characters and dialogue are all better. It's too bad they just couldn't let go of the QTEs. It's a very good Capcom action game, but again, not a great Resident Evil game. It's much more confident as an action game than RE4, and almost entirely stops pretending its gameplay is about anything other than action, to its benefit. The combat is faster and more responsive, but still feels slower and more methodical than most action games. It’s just overall a significantly improved action game.

RE5 Chris is so much better than RE4 Leon. Chris and Sheva are a likable duo who feel like a typical RE pair and play off of each other well. The dialogue likewise has much more natural localization than most if not all previous games in the series. I don't really like how they gave Jill and Wesker Kojima character designs, and this bad aesthetic continues in RE Rev.

The files unlocked in the menu are actually kinda good, and this game expands and fills out the setting in some interesting ways, setting the stage for the Revelations games and RE6.

If you read the files, you learn what happened to Umbrella and how they shut down. What's nice is that the files and in-game story actually go into the ramifications of a world where BOWs exist and can be sold to people with various agendas. It's a world of corporations, NGOs, political subterfuge, and black market dealers making profit off of human suffering, where a whole international organization was created to handle bioweapon incidents. It's disappointing that with this backdrop, the game's actual story is ultimately reduced to a battle in a volcano to save the world from a supervillain. It's a very comic book conclusion.

I know they're infected with a monster virus, but the visual of black people as writhing, animalistic subhumans is, uh... problematic, to say the least. Also, the image of Africa The Continent as a land of dead goats, megaphone-shouting lunatics and rabid, violent crowds. Also the scene early on where some brown savages are carrying off a scantily clad white woman. At least she turns into a tentacle monster shortly after instead of being rescued. It's hard to deny that they probably chose part of Africa as RE5's setting due to the misconception of the entire continent being a war-torn land of petty dictators.

Some parts of the game are much better than others. Generally, the early game is good. The ancient city level is... pretty bad. And it culminates in a laser mirror puzzle that some version of would feel at home in an older RE, but here feels out of place and rhythm-disrupting. I wouldn't necessarily say the game gets really bad toward the end, except for the two consecutive Wesker boss fights. The boss fights against Wesker are both bad and pretty dull. You don't really want your climactic final battle against a longtime series villain to be so boring. I imagine it's a bit less long and dull with another player, like everything in the game. I've played this game in co-op and alone, and you're really missing something by not playing co-op. Sheva's AI can be very frustrating and many parts are clearly designed for two human brains. Overall, RE5 ends pretty fast, and wears out its welcome less than RE4. The biggest problem with RE4, 5 and 6 is that they totally lose the spirit of survival horror. Because of that, I don’t have much to say about the gameplay of RE5 other than it’s a pretty decent action game. If you’ve played an action game, you’ve seen this kind of game design before, and it’s just not all that interesting. 

Neither of the D LCs missions are especially good or interesting, but I want to mention them because they do show the beginnings of Capcom experimenting with the episodic formula that they'd continue with Revelations, Revelations 2 and RE6.

Lost in Nightmares sees Jill and Chris exploring Ozwell Spencer's sprawling mansion, and is meant to be a throwback to the old style of RE. Unfortunately it doesn't have the spark that made those old games good, probably because it was designed by the RE5 team. It mostly ends up just being an extended and unnecessary reference to the classic games.

Desperate Escape is essentially just another level of RE5, but you play as Jill. Since RE5 already exists and is a fine length, this doesn't really need to exist.

Time to complete: 9:17

Resident Evil: Revelations (2012)

It's very rough around the edges, far from the production value you'd expect from the series, and definitely not something I'd call exceptional, but there are some good things going on. It definitely does feel more like RE than 4 or 5, but still only kinda feels like survival horror. It would be no great loss if this game didn't exist, but it's an interesting experiment.

This game was originally made for 3DS, and it feels very inconsistent, in a way you'd kind of expect a spinoff game made for a handheld console to be. It’s split up into episodes that usually take around half an hour, and have you switching between characters, and the short length was meant to be tailored to a handheld experience. Usually each chapter starts with a sort of interlude related to the main story where you play as other characters in another location, then it switches back to Jill exploring the main ship the game takes place on. The bite sized nature of the episodes makes it feel easy to keep playing. Some parts of the game are very fun and flow well, and other parts are just dull or frustrating. The game feels like a confused mix of survival horror and RE5 style action, and between that and the constant character swapping and hit-or-miss dialogue, it feels like a game that’s not very sure of what it wants to be. The bulk of the game where you’re playing as Jill aboard the Queen Zenobia, a BOW infested ship adrift at sea, tends to be the strongest part of the game, and it’s a great setting that’s perhaps underwhelming due to the graphical capabilities of the 3DS. You end up in a similar setting near the end of RE7, also directed by Koushi Nakanishi, and it looks a lot better there, and does justice to the concept better. Like so many things in Revelations, it was a good idea, but a bit underwhelming in its execution. This period of Resident Evil was definitely a time of trying out new directions for the series. Revelations, RE6, and another spin off I didn’t play called Operation Raccoon City were all released in 2012. RE6 is bad, Revelations is okay, and by all accounts Operation Raccoon City is not all that good. After a year like this, it makes sense Capcom went back to the drawing board. 

The writing in Revelations is not great, and is sometimes suddenly better or worse, but I appreciate what they were going for with the rapport between characters. I also feel like this game messes up that classic survival horror feel of exploring an intimidating place alone. You're always with a partner and always switching perspectives, so it never feels like you're alone, and because of that switching you never even really feel like you're isolated from the outside world on the Zenobia. It feels more like a TV show storytelling technique than something that works well for survival horror. Part of what makes survival horror work is that atmosphere created by feeling isolated and vulnerable, and it doesn't really work when the game is always cutting away between chapters to show what so-and-so is doing elsewhere.

Most of the characters get Kojima style designs, which I'm really not a fan of. Previous RE character designs were always very grounded without being too boring, and included classics like Jill's beret look, Jill's blue tube top look, Claire's magenta shorts look, and Ada's red dress look. I’m really not a fan of the skintight suit covered in tubes, straps and gadgets style of character design. It feels very “anime Rob Liefield.” 

I appreciate what they wanted to do by telling a story in multiple perspectives, and how they did it to suit a handheld game, but at the same time I feel like it disrupts the flow of exploration and the atmosphere of survival horror. Revelations 2 does a significantly better job of telling a story in different perspectives. Revelations was pretty fun to play, and had some decent ideas, but it’s nothing I’ll ever return to. It would be remiss of me not to mention my favorite bad dialogue of the game, so here are all of the best lines:

"Sorry, I don't date cannibal monsters."

"Me and my sweet ass are on the way!"

“Jill, where are you?”

"I dunno. A room, I think."

"These terrorists must be brought to justice... blast it!" 

-Monster Review Corner-

They went for an “under the sea” aesthetic for the monsters in this game, so almost every monster is a variation of a bloated pale humanoid. It does have guys that are like walking mutant sharks with arms that are swords and shields, which I’m not going to pretend isn’t sick, but they really, really don’t fit in a Resident Evil game. Oops, wrong game, these guys were supposed to go to Etrian Odyssey. The only kinda cool RE monster is the one that’s like a nightmare mermaid with spiny abdomen teeth. Overall monster score: 4/10

Time to complete: 5:12

Random fact: this was the first RE game where you could move while shooting.

Resident Evil 6 (2012)

I’m not going to have much to say about this one. RE6 is bad in many of the same ways the Tomb Raider reboot trilogy is. Abandoning almost everything that gives the series its unique identity in favor of trying to make a game that will sell a lot of copies. Obsessed with QTEs and explosive, loud set pieces, and resentful of player agency. "No no, silly player, look over here. Move at this speed. Go this way. We know best. Now that's entertainment!" It's a game that desperately wants to entertain and impress, dragging you by the wrist through loud, brash, guns-blazing action campaigns that totally miss the point of both horror and Resident Evil. Most of the time it just feels like an arcade shooter, and you're expected to stick to the script so closely that it may as well be a rail shooter. It really does take away everything that makes survival horror special: it doesn’t have a slow pace, it’s not about exploration, you don’t feel vulnerable or isolated, there’s no sense of map knowledge or pathfinding, it has overwrought combat mechanics, there’s pretty much no quiet time, the atmosphere is more goofy than scary, and it takes forever to finish. Sometimes it feels like this game really wanted to be Left 4 Dead 2: the way campaigns are set up like movies, the special zombie types, the co-op play, the sprawling levels. Except the devs seemed to have no clue as to what actually makes Left 4 Dead fun. The producer said the idea behind RE6 was to create the “ultimate horror entertainment,” which perfectly explains why it feels so much like a bad movie you’re being forced to sit through. It’s bombastic and stupid like a Fast and Furious movie, but doesn’t even have the idiot charm of one of those movies. Resident Evil 6 is a long, forgettable and stupid third-person action game that doesn't even have the common decency to be fun. 

Time to complete: Who knows. I'd finish this game if someone was paying me to, but they're not. People say it takes over 20 hours, which sounds unbearable. 

Resident Evil: Revelations 2

Finally some good fucking Resident Evil. I was actually kind of surprised by how good this game was, something the mediocre Revelations didn't prepare me for. It's a very welcome return to a more survival horror style of gameplay. From the start, it's dark, lonely and atmospheric. You do always have a companion, but it's still mostly very good at capturing that survival horror isolation feeling. 

It does have a few holdovers from RE6, most notably sprinting, skills and dodging, but it's the same style of dodge as RE3R, which doesn't feel totally out of place in a survival horror game, rather than the over the top rolls and dives of RE6. It doesn't have any of the dumb combat moves or the pointless stamina gauge or the action movie bombast. Skills are mostly passive and have only a very slight effect on gameplay. To me, this is a good thing, but it also means there may as well be no skills at all. It feels like something that’s needlessly tacked on, as though they wanted to convince a certain subset of their potential audience that it’s not just a classic survival horror experience, or perhaps they were trying to make it feel more modern, or extend replay value, or all of the above. In any case, it doesn’t need to be there and I’m glad it has little effect. 

The game has a good deal of combat, but combat is simple enough to fit into a survival horror game. It would have been fine with less, but it's still fine, because it actually has things outside of combat, unlike 4-6, and lets you play, explore, and figure things out without a lot of overbearing guidance. A lot of the puzzles and navigation feel like classic RE, and it’s a great return to form in that regard. Sometimes it has a bit too much combat for my taste, but this is made up for by long stretches with few or no enemies, and it has those survival horror moments of exploration and puzzle solving to balance things out. 

This game does AI companions right, for the first time in the series. Moira and Natalia are both really useful, and I found myself wanting to switch to them almost as often as I wanted to play Claire and Barry. You also don't really need to babysit them because it's pretty hard for them to die and they’re good at following behind. There are multiple good segments of the game where your characters separate, and Claire or Barry need to cover their partner while they traverse a room to gain access to the next area. Unlike in RE5, though, you’re not required to have a second player to have fun during these parts, and I don’t think it’s even possible to play the game co-op. At first glance this seems like a missed opportunity, but honestly, if someone had to play either of the secondary characters full time, it would get boring very quickly. I think it was a necessary sacrifice to make the two character system work well in a single player experience. I really don’t mind, since I think of survival horror as a single player genre. As a result, it lacks both the painfully slow character switching of RE0 and the painfully stupid AI of RE5. 

It’s funny that just as in RE5, Rev 2 ends in two consecutive Wesker boss fights, but this time against Alex Wesker rather than Albert. Also, these Wesker boss fights are much better. The final boss makes use of the character swapping, and actually does it really well. Barry is running from mutant Alex through cliffside caves, and you switch between him and Claire, who’s in a helicopter with a sniper rifle. It’s very much a Resident Evil fight, in that it’s more about positioning and survival than it is about fast shooting or burning the boss down with damage. 

I also actually think this game has a good story for the series, but mostly what makes it stand out is the characters themselves. I also really appreciate the callbacks to previous games. It refers back to things from RE1, Code Veronica, Revelations, and RE5. Alex Wesker, who I think previously only existed in lore notes, is the villain, and the Uroboros virus of RE5 plays a small role. It makes nods to the larger mythos without being so convoluted that someone who doesn’t know everything about every game would have trouble following. The central story is easy to follow: you’re trapped on an unknown mastermind’s monster infested deathtrap island, infected with a virus that causes you to turn into a disgusting, mindless monster if your level of fear gets too high. I love their choices of Claire and Barry as the main characters. Claire being a beloved series staple, and Barry being an unexpected but surprisingly great choice. I also love how you play in two different timelines, Claire and Moira on the island six months before, and Barry and Natalia searching for them in the present. You travel through a lot of the same areas, but fight different enemies, take different paths and solve different puzzles. Rev 2 also has the most naturalistic character dialogue and acting the series has seen thus far. It feels like the rapport they were going for in Rev 1, but done better, and both pairs of player characters play off of each other well. I like that Claire takes a matter-of-fact, seen it all before approach to the situation, because she’s been through two different self-contained zombie apocalypses, while Moira the teenager is always cursing and yelling and basically saying “what the fuck,” and she really acts like I think a teenager might in such a situation. Barry, the dumpy old dude with dad jokes who came prepared with his dorky backpack and cargo pants, and the fearless 10-year-old girl Natalia, also go together well. By the end, I found myself actually caring about what happened to these characters.

Between Rev 2's gameplay, dialogue, and visual style, it's easy to see how it paved the way for the third-person RE2 and RE3 remakes. It was a very good move for the series, and I'm surprised it's not mentioned more often. Despite being a sequel to a spin-off, it was at the time better at being Resident Evil than anything since REmake, which came out thirteen years prior. It has its highs and lows, but it’s a big step in the right direction, and a good survival horror game. It’s not quite the same quality of RE7, RE2R or RE3R, but I really liked Revelations 2. 

-Monster Review Corner-

Honestly, the monster designs are one of the weakest parts of Rev 2. The principal zombie-likes are just these kind of blobby, gross dudes who run at you, sometimes while holding wrenches or other makeshift weapons. Most of the enemies follow the same pattern, kinda blobby humanoids that look like bloated corpses or conglomerations of body parts, and I find it pretty dull. There are also some generic RE dogs that for some reason have pig heads. I never hold zombie dogs against a Resident Evil game, because you can’t have a Resident Evil without evil dogs. I don’t make the rules. As you progress you just get bigger, meaner blobby corpse guys with different abilities. There are only really two exceptions that I find less boring than the rest: Glasps, and Alex Wesker’s monstrous forms. Glasps are invisible, bloated flying insectoids that instantly kill you if they catch you. In order to kill them, you need to switch to Natalia, who can sense them and point them out, then switch back to Barry to take your shot. They cause this weird vision effect when they’re near, implying that their invisibility is something they’re doing to your mind, which to me feels less out of place than physical invisibility. If you had asked me before if I thought an invisible enemy was suited to RE, I would’ve said no, but Glasps feel like a creature out of a STALKER game, and I like it. Alex's final form is classic RE, like the Tyrant or G-Mutation designs, but with more of a disfigured crone vibe. Her unnaturally long spiky spine and humanoid limbs give her a creepy marionette feel. The heavily mutated humanoids, like Nemesis, tend to be among the best RE monster designs. Before she injects herself with Uroboros and transforms, she looks like an ancient haglike being with the air of a hunched vulture, with tubes and staples and half her face peeled off, a victim of her own T-Phobos virus.

Time to complete: 7:45

A practically perfect length. It feels like a long and satisfying experience that's paced well and wastes very little of your time. 

Resident Evil 7: Biohazard (2017)

I actually played this game in early 2019, before I ever conceived of this journey through the series, and I was as surprised as anyone at Resident Evil 7 being a good game. An oft repeated sentiment among RE fans who dislike RE7 is "it's not Resident Evil." In my mind, that's a very strange thing to say, since it borrows almost all of its design principles from the classic trilogy. I think the negativity some people feel towards this game is a knee-jerk reaction to the first person perspective. I've learned that like any fandom, Resident Evil's is full of idiots who just kind of say things, and barely make any attempt to understand the thing they like so much. (Not to say everyone who's an RE fan is an idiot. People like Suzi the Sphere Hunter and Critique Quest on YouTube have plenty of insightful things to say. Your average video game comment leaver or redditor is just a "whoa, cool videogame" meme). RE7 brings back so many things from classic RE: a slow methodical pace, save rooms, a classic style map, limited inventory space, item boxes, emblem keys, limited ammo and healing, a small array of weapons, a relatively small number of enemies, a creepy isolated mansion, a lone protagonist, survival horror puzzles, a focus on exploring in order to escape, item-base progression, simple mechanics, a feeling of vulnerability, environmental storytelling, a relatively simple story, a harmonious balance of all these elements, and a short game length. Even the character switch at one point near the end of the game is classic RE. The design philosophy applied to RE7 is classic survival horror, through and through. This is so much the case that I noticed myself playing in a similar way to the classic era games. Checking my map to carefully plan the safest, most optimal route. Managing inventory for the least amount of backtracking. Making sure I checked every room as thoroughly as possible for useful items. Slowly making my way through a small but interconnected and well designed map. Feeling that sense of tension every time I opened an unfamiliar door. Getting absorbed in the atmosphere and taking my time. It's weird to say playing a horror game feels comforting, or cozy, but RE7 does, in a way. All of this isn't to say it feels just like playing the old games. It's a reinvention, rather than a re-creation, and I think that was the right route to take. 

RE7 is the first game to use Capcom's RE Engine, and it looks extremely good, especially its lighting. The one thing that doesn't look exceptional is the models for people and their movements and expressions. People move and make facial expressions in that weird video game way that never looks natural, and it's kind of impressive how far Capcom has come since 2017 in that department. This is greatly improved in the 2 & 3 remakes, which also both use the RE Engine. The first thing I noticed while replaying this game is how incredibly detailed everything is, including the sound design. You hear your character's slightly hesitant breath, his footsteps, the creaks and groans of an old house, and other muffled sounds that can't possibly be attributed to a house's age. All of the visual details let you imagine how every part of the Baker farm slowly fell into disrepair, the toll that multiple floods took on the place, and the gradual disintegration of a family's sanity and normalcy reflected in the physical dilapidation of the house. Like the Spencer mansion in 1996, the Baker property is as much a character as it is a setting. The return to a seemingly abandoned, sprawling house as a setting really helps establish that this is a return to form, a return to slow, creeping horror. The house is a shadowy urbex nightmare of abandoned spaces and black mold. The washed up tanker and the mines you explore in the game's final stretch aren't nearly as memorable or characterful as the house. RE7 succeeds in actually being scary more than most Resident Evil games. It's very good at being a horror game, but has all of the survival horror gameplay that makes the genre so satisfying.

The RE7 team wisely created a new narrative that’s almost entirely disconnected from the convoluted mythos the series has been building on since Code Veronica, but used the ending to leave the narrative open to that connection to the larger story. This, combined with the first person perspective, makes the game feel more intimate and more focused, which really works for it. It's really more a story about the house and its inhabitants, about Eveline, Mia, Zoe and the Baker family than it is about its protagonist, Ethan Winters. In my opinion, he's one of the weaker parts of the game. This series isn’t exactly renowned for its brilliant character writing, but he’s just kinda there, like American cheese. At least characters like Jill, Carlos, Ada, Claire, Chris, Sheva, Barry and Wesker are likeable and/or memorable in a video game character kinda way. Ethan feels intentionally designed to be the most unremarkable mid-30s white dude you could think of, almost like he's meant for a target audience, and he drags an excellent game down a little bit. Even Nemesis, the monster whose only line is "STAAAARRSs," is more memorable. They can really do better. So while I’m very excited to see what they do with RE8 after the quality of the last three games, I was disappointed to learn I’d still be playing as Ethan. I'm hoping they'll figure out a way to make him less lame. The other thing is, almost every RE protagonist is a member of S.T.A.R.S. or the BSAA, or someone who knows how to shoot a gun, so they at least have some explanation for how good they are at handling these situations. Ethan is literally just some guy who goes into a swamp to find his wife.

RE7 is at heart an amalgamation of a bunch of horror tropes and references, even references to the series itself, and yet it feels more like a loving homage to horror than a hackneyed rehash. Meet the family from Texas Chainsaw Massacre as you explore the mansion from Resident Evil/The People Under the Stairs and evade your wife who’s now a deadite from Evil Dead, meet the gross body horror man from From Beyond, shambling swamp monsters, an evil witch grandma, and the little girl from F.E.A.R. You also solve a puzzle from Saw in a serial killer’s murder maze. It's all bundled together and interwoven so well that it feels like something fresh and unique rather than horror's greatest hits.

Time to complete: 7:40

Like all of the best survival horror games, it ends right before it starts wearing out its welcome. The short length keeps any of its ideas from getting stale.

-Monster Review Corner-

There really aren't that many different kinds of monsters in this game, which I'm fine with. The principle zombie-likes of this game are slimy black sinewy humanoids called molded. Eveline, the bioweapon in the form of a little girl, is the cause behind everything bad that happened to the house and family, and she creates a black mold which infects those she wants to control, and which molded are made of. A lot of people think they're boring enemies, but personally I think they're perfectly suited to the setting of a dilapidated, water-damaged house that's being slowly reclaimed by the surrounding wilderness. The first enemy you actually encounter in this game is your wife Mia, who switches between normal Mia and evil deadite Mia. She also chops your hand off with a chainsaw, which is pretty fun. Jack is the Nemesis of RE7's early game. He's an unnaturally pallid middle-aged man who stalks you and has regenerative abilities which are later revealed to be... extensive. As you explore the house in the early game, you're always on edge because you know he could be lurking anywhere. In his later boss form, he's a bulging body horror monstrosity. Marguerite is another enemy who stalks you through the boat house with a creepy lantern. She creates bugs that attack you, so she's like a nasty bug crone. As a boss she employs hit and run tactics, lurking in the dark waiting for you, so slow and careful is the best way to fight her. Eveline is just the little girl from FEAR. No two ways about it. I'm honestly not a big fan of her, just because I kind of hate the creepy little kid horror trope.

Side note: I think this is the first game in the whole series without evil dogs.

Overall monster score: 7/10

Resident Evil 2 (2019)

To my taste, Resident Evil 2 remake might be the most ideal incarnation of Resident Evil that exists. It has everything that makes survival horror great, and it’s all implemented extremely well. Combine this with the gorgeous graphics and chilling atmosphere and you have a practically perfect survival horror game. It feels like the culmination of everything that worked in the series over the years, with the visual fidelity to do it justice. It’s a good remake because it does more than just faithfully recreate the original – it takes the best ideas from across the series. It has the methodical pace of classic survival horror, the backtracking and slow unlocking of new areas, the shadowy, eerie atmosphere of REmake, the highly detailed graphics and sound design of RE7, the item combining of RE3, Revelations 2 and RE7, the close over-the-shoulder view of RE4 and beyond, which notably feels like Rev 2. I’ve talked about how survival horror is a balance of things, and in that sense, RE2R is superbly balanced. Visually, it’s so detailed and nails the atmosphere so perfectly that it makes you want to move slowly just because it feels like you should. Moving forward feels foreboding. The way zombies look and move is scary, and lickers are terrifying. Narratively, it’s the same story but told better, and characters are much more human and believable than the original. Leon is just a regular dude, not the regular shithead he became in RE4 and RE6, and Claire is a great character. The Raccoon City police station is the strongest setting of the game, it’s all shadowed corridors, bloodstained walls and shattered windows. You really get the sense of it being a building that was formerly used as a museum, and the barricaded doors and aftermath of carnage everywhere help you imagine what happened as people fought for their lives, and lost, before you arrived. The sound design is extremely well done and detailed, which I never noticed until I played with headphones. (I wish I had paid more attention to sound design on this series playthrough. It can be an important part of survival horror). Gameplay is no slouch, either. Patient, precise shooting and tactical retreats pay off, and inventory management remains an integral part of progressing through the game. You eventually have much more inventory space than in the classic games, but it still never really feels like too much until right near the end of the game. Puzzles and item usage feel just how they should in survival horror. The Sherry and Ada portions, in Claire and Leon’s campaigns respectively, are both a nice change of pace and they’re short enough that they don’t wear out their welcome. 

Strangely, I don’t feel like I have much to say about this game, just because it so well embodies everything I’ve already cited as being good about survival horror. The police station especially is exceptional, in terms of atmosphere, map design, the layout of enemy encounters, methodical play, and balance. It’s very light on anything resembling fast paced action, and I love that. All in all, I think this is the most well-rounded and well-made Resident Evil game to date. It would be a great place to start the series, and a great way to show someone everything good about the genre. 

Time to complete: 

First run, Leon A: 7:49

Second run, Claire A: 6:39

Resident Evil 3 (2020)

Here are the common criticisms people have of this game, and why they’re wrong:

“It’s bad because they cut content from the original.”

First of all, these two are both excellent games, but they’re different enough to be completely separate games. Even the maps and the paths you travel through the game are totally different. Sure, it would be fun to see a clock tower area in the style of the remakes, but I’m not going to hold nonexistent content against a game, especially one that’s this good. If you want to relive RE3, it still exists. No one seemed to complain about how different RE2R is.

“It’s too short.”

It’s pretty much the same length as RE3, and it’s a fine length for a survival horror game. I like that the game is fast paced and concise, and this captures the spirit of classic survival horror. In this day and age I find short games refreshing, and brevity is a mark in a game’s favor rather than a mark against it. Also, when a game is short, I’m a million times more likely to want to replay it in the future. Case in point, this was the second time I played this game. If it took 20 hours, if it even took 10 hours, it would run too long. 

“It’s an action game, not survival horror.”

It’s more of an action game than RE2R, but even that is up for debate. I feel like throughout a lot of the game, you’re really not doing more shooting than you do in RE2R, and Jill isn’t really any more heavily armed than Leon or Claire end up being in that game. There are more boss fights, and more explosions, though, and by the end of the game you have a ton of ammo and resources, but they generally give you tons of stuff at the end of these games. I mentioned that original RE3 felt more like an action movie than the previous two games, and the remake is a lot better at being an action movie. It has a breakneck start where you’re almost immediately in a fight for your life against Nemesis as he bursts through the wall of Jill’s apartment and chases you through the streets, which culminates in the player ramming him off of a parking garage with a car. I’m normally not a big fan of explosive set pieces in games, but this one is really good and is great at setting the tone for the rest of the game. Just like the original, it’s more action oriented, but it’s just much better at action than the original RE3. I really wouldn’t classify it as an action game, like a lot of people seem to. Its pedigree and presentation are thoroughly survival horror, in my mind. Inventory management is an integral part of the game and most of the game has that slow survival horror gameplay. One thing I like less about this game than RE2R is that it has fewer puzzles. It’s not like it doesn’t have any, but they take a backseat, which is why I’d call it more action-oriented survival horror. 

“Nemesis doesn’t show up often enough.”

I really don’t know where this comes from, because I feel like if he showed up any more often than he already does it would get irritating and redundant. There are literally four separate boss fights against him, and multiple parts where he chases Jill around. How much more do you need in a five and a half hour game?

Now that that’s cleared up, on to other things.

The Resident Evil 2 Remake has a lot of noticeable similarities to the original version, but Resident Evil 3 Remake is basically a completely different game, and I honestly think that’s a good thing. Somehow, when you play the original RE3 in 2020, it feels more dated than RE2, and I thought RE2 was a better game. 

Back on the topic of action: this game does a thing video games do I don’t usually like, which is when the main character is often seen falling off of exploding things and staggering through corridors and burning buildings and thrown against cars and so on and so forth. Here, I don’t really mind it though, maybe because it’s not a long game and these parts take up little of its play time. It also makes the fight against Nemesis feel more immediate and tangible. It does often feel like playing an action movie, but it’s Terminator 2, not Michael Bay. Also, the bad Nemesis boss fights of the original are replaced with actually good boss fights. 

One thing I really like about RE3R is the way characters are presented. Jill and Carlos both feel like more relatable, human characters, with actual personalities, and this makes you much more invested in their fight to escape the city. They end up being two of my favorite versions of RE characters, and I hope we see them in future games, though I find that kind of unlikely. Resident Evil is really not great when it comes to consistency in characters. It’s a shame because I’d love to see a direct sequel with this version of Jill and Carlos. Apart from these two, even the rest of the cast are given a lot more character and feel human. 

The Carlos segment of the game in the hospital is much more atmospheric and interesting than the original’s Carlos section, and this one ends with a siege style fight much like the cabin fight of RE4. On the topic of RE4, this game has a document explaining that Nemesis was created by implanting some kind of parasite into a Tyrant, and the author of the document berates Umbrella for going the route of parasites due to their unpredictability. You also fight a few zombies in the game who were infected by Nemesis and grow alien-looking parasites on their heads. It can be assumed that this is tying the lore of these games in with the Las Plagas parasites of RE4 and RE5 and paving the way for the RE4 Remake. I think this is neat, even though I wish they wouldn’t remake RE4 on account of it being garbage. 

All in all, I really like this game, and it’s one of my favorites of 2020. It’s a very good survival horror game with tons of detail and character that can be finished in two or three sittings. I have pretty much no complaints about it other than the aforementioned lack of puzzles. It’s more fast paced survival horror, but it’s very good in it’s own right.    

Time to complete: 4:36 (2nd playthrough)

I don’t know the exact time of my first playthrough, but my old save file that’s right before the final boss was at 5:52. 

Final Thoughts

I feel like after playing all of these games, it should be asked: is the story of Resident Evil any good? The answer to that is… kinda, sometimes? But also no, not really? It’s often entertaining, scary, gory, tense and atmospheric in the way that a good horror movie is. It’s also a little silly, often in a charming way, like how you can always tell at any given moment that this setting is a Japanese interpretation of America. The story itself goes well off the rails by the time you reach RE4. I mean, you’re rescuing the president’s daughter from evil zombie villagers and space alien tentacle monsters and cultists and ogres and then the zombies get body armor and guns. (Let's just not ever talk about the story of Code Veronica.) But the story isn’t really the point, is it? I think the series is vastly improved because there is a narrative, and it just wouldn't be the same without it, but you won’t find anything too deep or meaningful in that narrative. The one saving grace is that a defining feature of the story is ultimately the fact that corporations and governments are evil and only care about profit, to the extent of sacrificing hundreds of people in multiple biological weaponry incidents. That aspect at least feels true to life, especially in the midst of a pandemic that neither our government, nor the extremely powerful corporations that exercise control over that government, are doing anything about. Umbrella is an international corporation that no one dares or bothers to oppose who maintains their own paramilitary force, has their own private prisons and research sites, and has their hands in every part of the government and infrastructure of Raccoon City and who knows how many other cities. The villain is always ultimately the unchecked corporation - even in RE7, the nightmare family that seems disconnected from the outside world is ultimately revealed by in-game documents to be directly linked to corporate experimentation.

In Revelations 2, as well as the new 2 & 3 remakes, the characters are at least likable and there’s nothing incredibly dumb like you’ll find in RE 4, 5 or 6. Some would cite the part at the end of RE3R where Jill uses a humongous railgun called the FINGeR (Ferromagnetic Infantry-use Next Generation Railgun) to kill the final form of Nemesis as something dumb, but they are wrong. The characters of RE2R, RE3R and Revelations 2 are likeable and human, so they seem to at least be going in the right direction in that regard. The storytelling of RE7, RE2R and RE3R returns to the more grounded approach of the original trilogy, which is a good thing, and I think a good sign for the future of the series and its setting. 

There’s something I’ve noticed about RE games, which might just boil down to my own personal preferences. In pretty much every game, you end up in an entirely new location in the final act of the game, and that last part is never as good as the rest. In RE2R, you spend most of the game in the police station, then go to the sewers (and the orphanage if you’re playing as Claire). For the last stretch of the game you end up at NEST, Umbrella’s secret underground lab, and this part is weaker than the rest. Likewise, the ship and mines areas in RE7 are weaker than the majority of the game, the lab in RE3 and its remake, the lab in REmake, even the last section of RE5. This isn’t to say these parts are necessarily bad, just that they tend to be worse than the rest. At the same time, I think they’re necessary changes of pace and locale. I think there are two reasons for this: one, the first locations of RE games tend to be very strong settings with lots of character, and two, it’s an an example of a problem all horror fiction faces, which is that the more you ramp up tension, the harder it gets to do it in believable and interesting ways. If horror goes on too long, situations become predictable and it loses its bite, and survival horror games are no exception. Ramping up tension and action necessarily compromises the things that initially make horror enjoyable, like slow and eerie pacing, the danger of an unknown threat, the vulnerability of character or player, and the slow unraveling of mysterious and fatal circumstances. At the same time, horror needs a final act, needs some kind of closure, otherwise the building of tension feels like it was for nothing and the story is unsatisfying. I have no idea what the solution to this is, except brevity, which good RE games are very good at. 

I liked a few RE games already, but playing through them all really made me realize I like this series more than I previously thought, and I like survival horror a lot more than I thought. The really bad and long mid-series slump that lasted about thirteen years can’t be ignored, but I really like more than half of the games in the series. It created an entire genre with a devoted following, and I feel like RE2R brought the genre back into the limelight somewhat. You can see the influence of the genre even on games that aren’t really in the genre, like Prey, Gone Home, Bloodborne, and Left 4 Dead. I’m really looking forward to playing through my list of other survival horror games. 

Things Resident Evil showed me that I love about survival horror:

-Slow paced, thoughtful gameplay. You’re rarely rushed, and action isn’t the focus. Generally there’s nothing dragging you along in a certain direction, forcing you to look at or interact with certain things. It’s up to you to figure out the way forward.

-An emphasis on exploration. This is tied in with the previous point. A lot of the fear and tension comes from not knowing what's through the next door or what will happen next, but knowing you have to explore to progress. These games have a lot of backtracking, a healthy sense of map knowledge and memory as a useful skill, and lots of item-based progression. As I mentioned in my note about puzzles before, the whole map feels like a puzzle to be solved.

-A feeling of vulnerability, reinforced by things like limited defense options, slow movement, scarcity of items, limited inventory space, and simple combat. This goes hand in hand with the sense of isolation usually found in survival horror games.

-Environmental storytelling. Setting details being revealed through documents, destruction, corpses, bloodstains, locales, and even puzzles. 

-They aren’t defenseless walking sims. It's on you to survive. Having a way to respond to threats, but not feeling like you ever have quite enough, is much scarier than being defenseless. It's because it's a game - mechanically, you know a game isn't just going to give you no defenses, then throw you to the wolves. Survival horror acknowledges its framework of video game, its limitations and advantages. It gives more of a feeling of success or failure hinging on your decisions rather than on scripted events. The player feels like they have more agency, even if it's not always strictly the case.

-Making use of silence, something games aren't generally good at. This ties in with quiet time, something I wish more games were aware of. That is, times when the player is just quietly left to their own devices, exploring alone, solving puzzles, reading notes. You're not in danger 100% of the time, which gives the danger teeth.

-Simplicity of play, or accessibility. These games generally don’t contain any difficult mechanics or concepts that need to be explained, have little need for tutorials, and are easy to understand and play. Things like difficulty settings, auto aim, and the assist modes seen in RE2R and RE3R expand accessibility too. I think difficulty goes in this category too. Honestly, most survival horror games aren’t all that hard, because if you died all the time, you’d get bored and frustrated. Survival horror games seem to actually want you to have a good time. Imagine that. 

-Mostly short playtime. A genre that's often good at not wasting your time. It’s very good for people without much time or people who like to actually be able to finish games and move on to other games, or replay games. It might sound weird, but also, sometimes I feel like really long games have something to hide under all that repetitive content.

-New weapons or abilities feel earned, because you generally go through a lot to get to them and they’re not handed out very often.

-A harmonious balance of elements. When a survival horror game is good, it elegantly combines all of the aforementioned traits.

RE Score Sheet

Endings where I flew away in a helicopter: 8 Crank or valve handles collected and turned: 16 Zombies or dogs or birds that burst through windows: 19 Object pushing puzzles: 14 Shaped indentations filled (including cogs): 71 Jump scares: 13 Puzzles where you configure shapes or valves or gears or numbers or lights a certain way: 18 Oversized animal types: 12 (Spider, Bee, Moth, Snake, Shark, Worm, Scorpion, Cockroach, Centipede, Bat, Salamander, A Different Bat) Rooms with monsters in tubes: 8 Gigantic mutant plants: 4 Times when it looked like a character died but they didn't really: 10 Secret subterranean labs: 10 Switches that change the water level: 5 Batteries/cables attached to things: 9 Clock towers: 4 Vaccines synthesized: 4 Self destruct sequences: 7 Helicopters shot down or otherwise destroyed right before they were used to escape: 6 Unique viruses: 9 (Progenitor Virus, T-Virus, G-Virus, T-Veronica Virus, Uroburos Virus, T-Abyss Virus, C-Virus, T-Phobos Virus, Mold Virus)

Resident Evil Tier List

Obligatory tier list disclaimer: tier lists are stupid and bad and fail to acknowledge the many nuances of things.

[ckcker]

I Walk in Madness

Nobody has or can have all the information, but they have the requisite amount of information and agony in combination to believe they accurately see the entire thing.  I don’t and can never have all the information, but still I must have an opinion that seems binding or confident.  The information I selected and pressed into an opinion is now my special soul, and defines me.  It must be released and time-stamped to show that at one point, I made this all-encompassing definition, which is a summary of my self and the window of all my beliefs hereafter.  Elevate yourself to say, “I no longer wonder.”  

I have made myself publicly available; all that the community asks of you is that you participate.  To not participate is to disrespect those who put all of their time, effort and mental filaments into the ideal of community.  Such a reclusive impulse should be modified swiftly but in the most holistic way if possible, it is not helpful for others.  It is not helpful for you.  It is, at heart, cowardly, as it turns away in fear from the difficulties involved in building a resilient, healthy and just community.  It courts isolation as a comfort, when in fact voluntary isolation is the fortification of unhealthy habits and delusional or paranoid thought processes which precariously redirect the lost person away from the tough but rewarding civic duties necessary to building a fact-driven social network.  If I am lonely at night, the solution is to participate.  Though I walk in madness, I end up at the voting booth.  A discussion takes place in which everyone pretends to know how recycling works; one inches towards integration.  Recipes are shared, and an evening passes with an attempt to perfect avocado gazpacho.  

I love traditional open-toed sandals.  Making the body more vulnerable to the elements of the outside world shows a general dissipating apprehension.  Though current events inevitably fade in relevance and thus sustained public attention, their emotional immediacy and rousing thrust are exceptionally good at forcing the under-opinionated to participate and commune with others. Opinions always coalesce under the pressure of current events, and since current events are established and projected much more widely and much more often in this era, it follows that one should have more opinions, and participate more.  Of all the methods I’ve tried, the most effective and least artificial toner I’ve used is two tablespoons of rose water mixed with 1 cup of filtered water.  The rose water I use is a brand from Lebanon and you can probably find it in a local middle eastern grocery store.  Having a very public life no longer makes me uneasy!

I published the post and I was feeling satisfied, though very likely no other person would see it.  My only patron appeared to be a woman in her early 40s with hard bangs and a diamond choker smiling in her icon’s bubble, with arm around a presumed husband and the suggestive text “Be Kind” pegged in lower left corner in hot pink with white outline.  Miscellaneous background details in the icon, particularly a hanging silver streamer, communicated that at the time of the photo this woman had been at a New Years party.  Her silent interpretation of my persistently scarce content was eager musing territory for me when her icon focused my attention in the midst of a wild scroll, or when her face and militarized endorsement of kindness intruded with the elegance of a twirling maple samara upon my mind during a bout of fear-walking.  She made no effort to contact me, had no posts of her own or even personalized layout style, and yet she hypothetically watched me.  Of course it was pointless on her end — my posts were designed solely for the tactical misdirection of algorithmic spectres, conceived and published only in order to convince those supra-wiggly archivists of instinct that I was overwhelmingly a different person.  I did not want even the smallest gleak of truth to land online.  This “lost mind” plan even extended to my video watching and digital window shopping maneuvers, though in the case of the former it was impossible to totally restrain myself from a true curiosity and craving to pursue certain videos.  This lack of impulse control expanded even more robustly when porn entered an afternoon; it was insurmountable to search and watch against the specific desires and images I knew would satisfy me the most.  Yet I tried in rapid toe dips, once spending eleven minutes on a video of a nude bodybuilder shot-putting a collection of corns and lettuces into a wall, and with no o-face to conjure.  

“I walk in madness” was both my unorthodox phrase of meditation and most important sentence of self-parody.  When walking around at night in a certain state, I would now and then repeat to myself, “I walk in madness.”   After this I would laugh and say, “that’s dramatic.”  Self-parody swooped in to dehydrate the potential mirages, delusions.  But no other summary was as accurate — literally I walked in madness.  From the habits of my mind, a complex system had emerged and, quite simply, enveloped my unhinged ass.  I had strobe-nurtured my preferences for “the best way to think” over the last several years, so that now I was only sufficiently energized when mentally combining (1), an act of making fun of myself for feeling out of sorts, with (2), an earnest attempt at my own healing.  This perverse combo made me feel very aware but rarely good.  And when these thought commands then marinated in the head to a fully abusive gush, there was one more thing to consider.  What was the source of that powerful sensation that took me over when I went walking alone and without a plan at night?  What was it in the body that prodded me along that highly nummy snack trail of mini-catharses?  What was the source of those tiny pecks of transcendence that scattered down the back of the neck when nearing the production of an abyss?  That is, I did not only walk in madness because I had to, but also because it had become fun.  It raveled me on a line leading to some other connection, a connection which was not to The World.  It promised recognition of and commune with everything that did not matter or had not ever been confirmed to exist.

These areas were very important to pay attention to — I had ignored them for the majority of my, to be acutely real, goofiest years, it was important to know everything that was possible.  This was my routine.  I walked with glamour in circular patterns around less populated city neighborhoods at night, always listening to music that accentuated a spike in insane flavoring.  I only chose music that had the strength to combine halo and blurred hole, it was always music that floored my sensation to its final speed.  I knew I was so lucky to have built-in machinery that let me expand all of my reserves through music.  It was my only advantage.  It made me proud to turn inward.  If my skill was extreme sensitivity, it could only flourish in its most insular and native format.  

But I desperately needed new songs to fill me up, and over-listened as a resting state.  I over-listened, and a night out, i.e. the sustained advancement of nightlife over several hours, was an exhausting condition for me.  In a bar, I was penetrated by the old song I had heard over two thousand times before, but which now had been remixed in a contemporary style wherein synth stabs commanded by creatine hands had replaced what was once very clean, antiquated AOR guitar strumming.  The popular song I had highly ignored for the length of my life, and which hearing did not provoke outrage (or even flashback to wedding dance floor) but instead perpetual indifference in me, had been updated using the most cutting edge technology to produce aural depths not possible with the recording equipment available when the song was originally produced, and which now plunged the emotions much further down and much harder.  The original voice was now placed in a melancholy minefield of hysterically deep bass and plummeting, omnidirectional dynamics and, when the remix passed through the tequila that I was allowing to patrol my body, it replicated itself with viral menace to produce in me the extraterrestrial threat of a single tear.  

In this instance of a night out, Rob had invited me to this bar and party that I had never been to before.  Where I had expected to see more of his friends or even the endless hallway of acquaintances he seemed to be able to mobilize at random, instead I only saw Gail, revealing the conditions were such that Gail and I were the only people Rob had invited to the event.  There I stood under the song, almost leaking with melody-induced sentimentality or globular nostalgia mucus.  I looked across at Gail who was leaning on a wall, who did not seem to be able to observe me after our initial greeting when I arrived at the bar.  She appeared to not take in much information when moved from location to location, and when looking in her eyes I did not ever get the sensation that enormous perspectival changes were part of her social rhythm.  A common conclusion from a young person would be that she was fried, but whether as a condition of drugs/alcohol/trauma or some combo, there had not been any stories shared on which to focus a rock hard drama-horny eye.  Though I yearned to know what details flanked the long road leading to her hellscape, I realized it was unjust since I wasn’t prepared to present the full set of demonic coordinates that had led to mine.  How can one appeal with another story of lost sleep?  “Awake all night” is not the story anyway, yes we know, please make your complaining entertaining.  I was in the heart of the club, I understood it was not the moment to emerge brumal vapors in the form of uninteresting plot points excerpted from my very personal checklist of booboos.  “Oops,” the convicted serial killer said when the public did not like the realistic paintings he made of his victims while in jail.  Gurn: it was possible for the public to see horrifying paintings made by a serial killer.  

Several screens around the bar played the same music video, which the dance floor area magnified via projection on the wall, so that, in the most emotional part of the bar, emotion was keyed up considerably by the illusion of entering the world suggested by the song.  Rob and the bartender were near cheek-to-cheek, taking turns cocking their heads to the side so the voice of the other could enter the ear successfully over the newest Chicago house-derived, 80s-synthpop-infused rap song scorching the lair.  Gail stayed against the wall, looking around but appearing totally comfortable, a woman in her 60s drinking a High Life surrounded by a different generation, I was moved.  Being young is incredibly dangerous.  The bartender poured Rob and himself shots and they downed them together.  

Snippets of Gail’s circumstances had reached me, I knew she had been living with her son in Texas but now was essentially homeless, that Rob and Q.C. had met her at a goth club where she was hanging out with a much younger woman named Lillian.  Lillian would often be run into at the goth club or other clubs and bars, flirting with Rob and Q.C., and though she was definitely younger than Gail, she wore enough makeup to sufficiently alter minds and, with the support of moody bar lighting that left certain preferred corners in medium darkness, had an age that was unrecognizable.  “My instinct tells me she’s at least 35,” Rob had suggested after explaining to me the situation and after a long silence in which I didn’t respond or engage at all with what he had just said.  The pause had felt uncomfortable and also unnatural after such bulbous gossip so he apparently felt it important to break the silence with this one more detail of her estimated age.  I knew it would make both of us more comfortable if I said something in response to the story of Gail and Lillian but I didn’t, in the end, have anything to say, and so Rob told me he thought Lillian was at least 35, and I responded, “oh.”  Lillian and Gail were good friends and Lillian would often bring Gail along to the goth club; Gail did not dress on theme.  Eventually Rob learned she lived in her car and he invited her to stay with him for an unspecified amount of time.  Inevitably this increased my estimation of Rob’s worldview.  When he would decide once again it was time to throw trash from the neighborhood off the 2nd floor apartment balcony — for instance a decommissioned flatscreen or legless American Girl doll — Gail, watching through the open door from the beige velvet couch, would laugh once.  

Rob concluded his interaction with the bartender, turned to me and explained the bartender was hot and straight, and when the bartender worked the weekly gay night they held at the bar, he would appropriately enhance his image in honor of the conventional gay male eye — pouring himself into a tight black tank top that demonstrated his tactful chest hair and relevant bicep gains was the respectful thing to do.  “I’m going to dance now,” Rob said as a commanding female voice shook the establishment with its first notes.  

I wandered over with him but stuck to the doorway that connected the bar area to the dance floor, watching as he threw himself, alone, into the writhing environs, quite clogged with personal freedoms.  The mass of dancers sang the chorus of the song all together, the subject matter concerned a protagonist that felt jealous and sad to see their long pined after crush dancing with another girl.  In fact the protagonist likely never had a chance with the person who was their crush but had built up a dream narrative in which their idealistic love with this person was nearing possibility.  In the midst of such crushing circumstances, the protagonist, now left alone and heartbroken at some event they likely attended simply to engage further with their crush, has decided to dance through their loneliness despite it all, even if it will only enliven them for a moment, and for the length of the song.  Rob danced “with” almost anyone he turned his body towards.  Some people engaged, dancing back, and others stealthily maneuvered away.  At some point it was discernible that he no longer had on shoes or socks.  A girl very much liked that, drawing her friend’s attention to the fact, then touching Rob on the arm, saying something inaudible.  All three laughed.  I stood and watched, occasionally pinged by passing bodies gunning for the most emotional part of the bar.  I watched the video on the projection screen.  The female vocalist danced specifically, had short pink bowl cut hair, conveyed well-lit and accessible agony.  Several bar dancers unmistakably entered a sub-orgasmic flehmen response.  My left shoulder reflexively darted front and back — a significant space-grabber had brushed me by on their way to the dance floor.  It was eventually revealed to be Gail.  I watched her scream “YAHHHHHHHHHH!!!” as she launched herself into the crowd.  

[violetosprey]

Hypothetically, what would be the best way to reject a yandere?

*Inhales* Oooooooooooo that’s a toughie.  

Probably doesn’t help that I enjoy reading and watching the kind of stories where the yandere is an antagonist.  So I’ve seen plenty of different ways they get turned down…and unfortunately plenty of situations where rejection ends up setting off the yandere in the worst possible manner.

My Joke answer: Start planning your fake death.  Oh, and NO restraining orders.  That is every yandere’s trigger word.

My Serious answer:  It’s…going to depend on the type of yandere you have.  If there’s any chance of having the rejection accepted in a civil manner, the S/O needs to be ready to not only be crystal clear about the answer being “No,” but to remain steadfast for an extended period of time.

I’m going to do my best with this post trying to consider different varieties of yanderes.  Due to my usual tastes, you can probably guess the first things I started thinking about were all the worst case scenarios when it comes to rejection.  Hopefully I can work the other angle a little more, but I’m going to apologize ahead of time if I seem too biased.

First things first, remember ALL yanderes are persistent. That kind of comes with the possessive and obsessive love package.  With that in mind, I can’t feasibly see a way where a one-time rejection would work on a yandere.  I mean…if they were gushing all over their S/O one minute and saying they’re soulmates, but then just go “Oh, okay” the minute their beloved turns them down…not exactly a good representation of a yandere is it?

So if a character were to have to turn down a yandere for whatever reason (ex. Don’t like the yandere’s personality, bad timing, S/O’s already in a relationship or the S/O simply just doesn’t feel the same way- that happens people, just bad luck), they should be prepared that they will have to do this on multiple occasions.  Depending on how forward and obsessed the yandere is, the S/O would basically need to be just as persistent with a “No” as the yandere is with a “Yes.”

Okay, so when it comes to regular relationships, my personal opinion is that a rejection or break up should be performed via talking with someone in a civil manner face-to-face.  Please note that this may not always be the most desirable, or sometimes even the best, action taken depending on how tumultuous the relationship is.  Still, trying to keep things calm would require treating the party you’re rejecting like a respectable human being.  Hopefully the other party will then understand. You could choose to give an explanation, or just keep things simple and say that you don’t feel that way, or it just won’t work out.

Now, could you perform this same rejection method with a yandere?

Well…of course you could use this method.  I may be a little crazy, but I also think it may still be one of the best ways to try out AT FIRST with a yandere.  Maybe that’s just because I’m personally a rather passive person.  Depending on who you talk to though, maybe giving a stern but blunt answer would be preferred (for both rejecter and rejectee).

I think I would advise AGAINST being nasty when rejecting the yandere for the first time.  It may shock a yandere, yes, to get turned down so horribly.  But remember they’re known for their persistence.  One rough blow probably isn’t going to knock them down for good.  A really nasty rejection may even infuriate them and make things worse.  Little warning, a yandere will never stop loving their S/O, but they CAN get mad at them. How or where they direct their anger then is up to what kind of yandere you have.  Oh, and if you have a yandere that’s pretty delusional instead, a nasty rejection probably isn’t going to phase them all that much.

Realistically, I don’t think there’s a “best” way to reject any kind of yandere because not all yanderes are the same.

Let’s make this a little easier and use some terminology everyone can understand:

Is the yandere being rejected “selfish” or “selfless?”

I’m going to save some time and just link @thatyanderecritic‘s post on the difference between the two here.  They’re pretty self-explanatory though.  The selfish yandere thinks more about their own desires and usually ends up as the villain or antagonist of a story.  The selfless yandere is the one who’s more concerned about the S/O’s wants and needs. They COULD still be used as villains I suppose, but you can actually put this type in supporting and even heroic roles as well.

If the yandere you’re rejecting is the selfish kind, there’s a ridiculously high chance that not only is there no good way to reject them, but any form of rejection is going to cause things to go downhill fast.  If it’s a story where the rejection happens early on, then the story turns into the yandere slowly escalating their antics until you’ve reached the maximum danger level. If the rejection happens late in the story because said yandere was very sneaky and manipulative behind the scenes to reach the “perfect” moment to confess, a rejection that late in the game may actually push the yandere into a “snapped” state.

It’s a typical yandere villain/antagonist story (the horror I love).  These usually escalate in the S/O either having to put their foot down HARD after vigorously fighting back against the yandere’s antics, or the S/O having to receive outside help to get it through to the yandere that they won’t be getting what they want.  A yandere COULD eventually see the error of their ways here, but only after being pushed back so many times.  The last time should be nearly impossible for the yandere to recover from.  A yandere capable of becoming redeemed might act despondent at first before they’re able to shift away from their possessive nature. If a selfish yandere is SO dangerous, obsessed and/or delusional, it might end up with the yandere in prison or even dead.

I was rereading some chapters of “Cheese in the Trap” recently.  While it’s debatable about the main dude’s status as a yandere (it’s…complicated), there’s another character in their called Oh Young Gon that shows a lot more of the typical yandere behavior towards Seol.  Is he a yandere?  More than Jung I’d say, but you could still debate on if he’s a valid yandere. If he is, he’s definitely the selfish type.  One of the big problems Seol has with this guy is basically everything she says to him just seems to go through one ear and out the other.  She could NOT get him to understand her whether she tried talking to him in a more rational manner, getting furious with him or even threatening him.  Again, could debate if he is one, but selfish yandere you do sometimes have to rely more on action than words to get them to finally stop.

If the yandere you’re rejecting is the selfless kind, you’re in much better luck.  Since they’re more interested in the S/O’s happiness, it’s less likely they’re going to try to upset the S/O by going knife crazy. There’s some more variation here I think.  A selfless yandere may act very sad and dejected, but it shouldn’t be to the point where they completely give up and toss their shrine out.  Again, ALL yanderes are persistent.  They may have to recover at first before their hope builds up again is all.  A selfless yandere may also just shrug off a “no” and keep confessing to the S/O over and over again.  Several times in a year, month, week or even in a single day.  They could be completely harmless (if not over-the-top with their displays of affection), but plucky I suppose.  Whatever the case, you might not have to worry about finding dead bodies after rejecting this type of yandere, but you probably won’t be seeing the last of them.  They’ll keep popping up in hopes that the S/O will change their mind.  

Now would you ever have to turn down a selfless yandere in a nasty manner?  Hmmm, I don’t think so unless it made sense for the yandere and S/O’s personality.  For example, the S/O may slowly become exasperated with the yandere’s constant presence and just loses their temper one day.  There’s also rare instances where an S/O may be more desperate to get the yandere to move on from them NOT because the S/O is in danger, but because the yandere’s obsession is unhealthy for the yandere themselves.  What if the yandere gets so desperate they start eating less or falling behind in their studies so they can focus solely on the S/O? I don’t think I’ve ever talked about that, but yeah there are ways a yandere can actually be more self-destructive rather than destructive like most of us are used to seeing.

Well I think in both cases with a selfish or selfless yandere, rejection is something that has to be swallowed over a longer period of time.  See that’s where you take the opportunity to try to present character growth, either for the yandere, the S/O, or both.  Stories where the yandere remains the antagonist but gets redeemed, you have to carefully construct how they get pulled out of their unhealthy mindset. An S/O in those stories may also have to learn to be more firm, defend themselves or rely on help from others when things become too much.  If you’re doing a story where there’s an initial rejection of a selfless yandere, there’s a good chance a yandere may try to change a little so they either look more appealing to their S/O, or to fix some unhealthy habits that hurt themselves. An S/O here that initially rejected the yandere may slowly begin to look past their initial perception of the yandere to accept their dedication.  There’s much better examples and I’ve worded things poorly here, but I think you get the idea.

Very good question. Tough to answer though, haha.

[sciencespies]

The Thorny Road to the 19th Amendment

https://sciencespies.com/history/the-thorny-road-to-the-19th-amendment/

The Thorny Road to the 19th Amendment

When the 19th Amendment became law in August 1920, it constituted the largest simultaneous enfranchisement in American history—women nationwide had finally obtained, at least on paper, the right to vote. But it’s the struggle for suffrage, which stretched more than 75 years prior, and not just the movement’s eventual victory that UCLA historian Ellen Carol DuBois recounts in her new book, aptly titled Suffrage: Women’s Long Battle for the Vote.

Suffrage history is thistly and complicated. The movement got its start in abolitionist circles during the mid-19th century when most married women lacked basic property rights. Even among the progressive-minded women and men gathered at Seneca Falls in 1848, the notion that “it is the duty of the women of this country to secure to themselves their sacred right to the elective franchise” proved radical. “One of my intentions,” DuBois told Smithsonian, “is to integrate the history of the women’s suffrage movement into American history…At every stage, the larger political atmosphere, the reform energies of the 1840s and ’50s, the Civil War and Reconstruction, the period of Jim Crow, the Progressive Era and then World War I, each of those periods creates the environment in which suffragists have to work.” To that end, DuBois traces the ways in which Reconstruction fueled calls for “universal suffrage” as well as a racial schism among suffragists. We learn how the women’s rights advocates became (sometimes uneasy) allies with different political parties, Temperance advocates and the labor movement and how outside political turmoil, like World War I, complicated their quest for the vote. Centuries before social media and the internet, reformers turned to newspapers, speaking tours, and eventually advocacy that ranged from signature-gathering to hunger strikes to convince voters and legislators alike how imperative it was that women gain the franchise.

DuBois’ richly detailed account also doesn’t shy from examining the bitter divides that fissured the suffrage movement over methods, race and class as it struggled to piece together a coalition that would vote to let women vote too. In the 1870s, after a schism between prominent suffrage leaders over supporting the 15th Amendment, the movement split into several camps, one with more moderate tactics and Republican Party allegiance than the other; in the 1910s, a similar split emerged between the more militant NWP and conciliatory NAWSA. And despite the contributions of women of color like Ida B. Wells-Barnett and Mary Church Terrell to their cause, NAWSA adopted an “explicitly racist policy” to appeal to Southern states around the turn of the 20th century, DuBois writes.

Intermixed in all this political history are the miniature profiles of the remarkable, determined women (and choice male allies) who propelled the suffragist movement. Susan B. Anthony ranks among the best known, but DuBois also adds the lesser-known facets like that Anthony was formally tried and found guilty of casting a ballot “without having the lawful right” to do so in New York? DuBois also highlights the stories of suffragists with less name recognition, like the firebrand and Equal Rights party presidential candidate Victoria Woodhull, Woman’s Christian Temperance Union leader Frances Willard and millionaire benefactress Alva Belmont. DuBois spoke by phone with Smithsonian about her book:

This book covers a long history, and I’m curious about the evolution of the movement. What are some of the twists and turns the fight for suffrage took that were not part of the original vision?

First, what really makes the suffrage movement the foremost demand of the women’s rights movement are the consequences of the Civil War. The U.S. Constitution has almost nothing to say about who votes until the 15th Amendment, [which enfranchised African American men]. In the early postwar years, the assumption was that, like economic rights, voting rights would have to be won state by state.

Then with the 13th, 14th and 15th Amendments, which virtually rewrite the U.S. Constitution [to abolish slavery and give formerly enslaved people legal and civil rights], the suffrage movement focuses on getting the right for women to vote acknowledged in the Constitution. When efforts to get women included in the 15th Amendment failed, suffragists actually returned to the state level for the next many decades.

The suffragists go back to the states, almost all of them west of the Mississippi, and convince male voters to amend their state constitution to either remove the word “male” or put the right of women to vote in those constitutions. Here is the crucial thing to acknowledge: When that happened, first in Colorado, then in California and ultimately crossing the Mississippi to New York in 1917, those women who were enfranchised by actions of the state constitution had comprehensive voting rights, including for president. So for instance, the women of Colorado gained the right to vote in 1893; they voted for president five times before the 19th Amendment is passed. By the time that the suffrage movement moves into high gear, in the midst of the first World War and then immediately afterwards, four million American women have the right to vote for president.

The way that the right to vote moves back and forth from the state to the federal level is something that could not have been anticipated. Especially since those first suffragists really thought that in the sort of revolutionary change of emancipation and black male enfranchisement, surely women would also be included. The failure of the 15th Amendment to extend the franchise to women so enraged a wing of the women’s suffrage movement that it broke open the alliance between black rights and women’s rights groups with serious and negative consequences for the next half century.

The second thing I’d say is that when women’s suffrage started, the political parties were quite infant. Indeed, the women’s suffrage movement begins before the Republican Party comes into being. I don’t think that suffragist reformers really anticipated how powerful the major political parties would be over American politics. One of the things I discovered in my work was how determined the controlling forces in the major parties, first the Republican and then the Democratic Party, were to keep women from gaining the right to vote.

Why was that?

When the Republican Party enfranchised African-American, formerly enslaved men, almost all of whom lived in the South, they anticipated correctly that those men would vote for their party. The enfranchisement of women was so much greater in magnitude, so there was no way to predict how women would vote. Really up almost till the end of the suffrage movement, American women had a reputation, gained or not, for being above partisan concerns and sort of concerned with the character of the candidate or the nature of the policies, which meant that they could not be corralled into supporting a partisan force. So the only parties that really ever supported women’s suffrage were these sort of insurgent third parties who had nothing to lose and everything to gain by attaching themselves to a new electorate. The most important of these was what was called the People’s, or Populist, Party of the 1890s. Those first victories in the West can be credited to the dramatic rise of the People’s Party.

Suffragists wearing the names of some of the Western states that had already granted women the right to vote process down Fifth Avenue during a 1915 march.

(Bettmann via Getty Images)

How did the women’s suffrage movement move from being very closely tied to abolitionism to largely excluding women of color?

So there were a couple things. First, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, one of the dominating figures in the first half century of the movement, when she’s really enraged not just that women are excluded from the right to vote but women like herself are excluded from the right to vote, she expresses herself in ways that are…she’s charged with being racist. I think it’s more accurate to say she’s an elitist, because she’s as dismissive of European immigrants as she is of the formerly enslaved.

Stanton made really, really terrible comments about people a generation removed from slavery—she called them the sons and daughters of “bootblacks” or sometimes she called them “Sambo.” Sometimes that charge of racism flows over to her partner Susan B. Anthony. That’s not really fair. Anthony’s abolitionism was much deeper and more consistent. When you follow her career, until the day she died, she was always, wherever she went, she would make sure that she went to black churches, black universities, black societies.

Second, by the turn of century we’re moving into a whole different generation of leaders, none of whom have any roots in the abolition movement, who come of age during the period in which Reconstruction is portrayed as a terrible disaster for the nation and who are part and parcel of the white supremacist atmosphere of the early 20th century.

In those final eight years, 1912 to 1920, when the suffrage movement breaks through for a variety of reasons, to a real chance to win a constitutional amendment, the U.S. government is controlled by the Democratic Party. The president is a Southern Democrat. Washington, D.C., the home of the federal government, is a southern city. So the political atmosphere is radically hostile, at the national level, to anything that will help to return the African American vote.

In all the research you did for this book, was there anything that surprised you?

I was incredibly impressed by the congressional lobbying. I don’t think I appreciated, until I wrote this book, the quiet importance of Frances Willard and the WCTU, which doesn’t really fit into our normal story of suffrage radicalism. This sort of conventional women’s organization was important in bringing mainstream women, and not just the kind of radicals who had fought for the abolition of slavery, to recognize the importance of votes for women to achieve their goals, not just because these were high principles of equal rights, but because they couldn’t get what they wanted done. Whether it was the prohibition on alcohol or the end of child labor, they couldn’t do those things without the vote.

One of the lessons of the book is that the notion that women’s suffrage was a single-issue movement is just wrong. All of them had other goals. Carrie Chapman Catt was interested in world peace. Alice Paul was interested in equal rights for women beyond the right to vote. Anthony was interested in women’s right to earn a living. Stanton was interested in what we would call reproductive rights for women. Each of them had a larger vision of social change in which women’s suffrage was fundamental as a tool.

#History

[serabiet]

Tell me more about Tellerman! Why is he not a nice guy? He kinda looks like a cult leader ála David Koresh :D

Hey! Sorry this has taken me forever to answer, but it’s just because I’ve wanted to cover the topic as well as possible. I know it’s just sims, it’s supposed to be light and goofy but… I’m on summer vacation, I have time, so what if we remove that as a requirement? And for a quick minute, the game as milieu as well? Going to answer the questions in a bit, but first, let’s talk cult fiction shop a little :D

Whether huge in scale or affecting only a small group of people, both real life and fictional cults are fascinating, tragic, and spooky. In writing about the topic, I’m not really interested in going an othering, ogling route, or serving a cautionary tale against religion. People are different, people will be peopleing: I’m no Lovecraft, there’s nothing especially mystifying or scary about that to me at this time. What I’d rather explore are the methods of brainwashing, and the frightening fact that anyone – no matter how smart – can be susceptible. Someone’s at the right state of mind for that to happen, and offered the right type of relief to their problems? I want to portray how the people who fall for these things aren’t necessarily gullible at all, just looking for tools and answers to help themselves feel better. How when someone charismatic comes along and claims to have these tools and answers available, well, what’s the harm in listening just for a few minutes? And how this evolves into a situation of mind control and tragedy. In case it needs to be said out loud: I don’t want to tie Komei’s cult to any particular real life case too closely, out of respect for the real people involved.

When building the doctrine of Komei’s cult, the first thing I got curious about was what sort of features a cult that’s not based on an existing religion would have. Because, you know, why make things black and white or otherwise easy on myself. It would need to be spiritual, slightly new age-y, based on an ideology of universal empathy, and in the beginning sensible enough to appeal to modern day individuals priding themselves on their independent thinking skills. So no fire and brimstone, honey love attracts more flies. The leader offers newcomers concrete, common sense solutions on how to improve their lives, and once those solutions prove succesful, he extends an offer for the individual to visit or even join him and his people in a special place where they’re doing important work. Out of gratitude and curiosity, the targeted person agrees to do so.

I wanted to play with the idea of how with individualism comes to an extent isolation and loneliness. No one else is quite like you, after all. If that reaches a point where a person in that position is placed in an even further isolated environment, along with other like-minded people, well. We’re well on the way to having a cult in a compound. Add some sleep deprivation, physical labor, and dress it up in appealing, loaded language like ‘you’re unique healers of the world, we’re soul family destined to make things better once we get rid of our egos and earthly distractions, we’ll lead the way to a better tomorrow and outsiders will follow once they see how right we are’? With no contact with outside world, being bombarded with mystical manipulation daily, and having a sense of purpose and belonging? We have arrived, more or less.

When it comes to Komei, the quick answer to him not being a nice guy: three nice points :D Fortune aspiration guy was always pissing everyone off on community lots, so I put him in a brown linen tunic and plopped him in the desert. He has a handsome, if a little unsettling, face. Deep-set pale blue eyes, jawline to shame all other jawlines. It’s a charismatic cult leader face!The concept sort of started building itself from there.

I figured his personal history before meeting the most important person in his life, Tara “Bank” DeBateau, has been mostly a set of failures and a source of bitterness and deep-rooted, ever-present feelings of inadequacy. His past isn’t especially important in details: what matters is he’s a frustrated mediocre guy with an inflated ego and very little genuine regard for the wellbeing of anyone else. He’s charming and practiced enough to be able to hide this from others, however. When he met up with Tara, his first follower, a few years back, he leeched the language of altruistic spirituality the young hippie used, and made it his own.

Tara has her own reasons to genuinely believe in Komei. She also feels as she has the monetary means to do her part in bringing more love to the world through helping this wonderful man, that it must be her mission in this life. Thinking about the alternative, being used by Komei, isn’t an option. That’d make her an absolute gullible idiot, wouldn’t it? The investments she’s made at this point emotionally, financially, and spiritually would all have been for nothing. No, that wouldn’t do. Tara’s ride or die.

Komei’s motives and goals have blurred for him from the beginning’s quick scam and get out. He loves the attention and appreciation his followers give him unconditionally, and all he has to do is speak that same love back to them. And perhaps this really is his purpose, leading these people. They crave to be led. The ego stroke he gets out of seeing what he can convince his followers to agree to is massive, absolute balsam to his soul. He always knew he was born to do great things, and finally after years of hardships and opposition, he is.

I want to mention the link to TS2 PSP’s Kine Society, because obviously that’s the Strangetown canon bit I stole and ran away with to come up with all this. Rather than the cult having anything to do with cowplant milk (other than symbolically Komei draining the people around him of life and possessions etc), I tied things together with the Muenda/Nigmos family lines. Like I’ve written in a few posts, Komei set up his base on the old Muenda Farm on the outskirts of town: the only spot of land anything grows in for reasons completely unrelated to him. He’s taking full advantage of it nevertheless, and uses it as divine proof of his righteousness. It’s what he always points to when anyone doubts him, and what he uses as justification when he wants something new and more out of his followers.

Okay holy shit this is the longest post I’ve ever written (at least on SC), and I’m sorry and grateful for anyone who read it all. Thank you if you did, go have a popsicle!

[jonfarreporter]

Days of old come alive as lovers of history immerse themselves in the clothes.

As Coronavirus continues to dominate society and the economy, no doubt the upcoming holiday season will be very altered accordingly with various protocols set in place.

One holiday tradition here in the San Francisco Bay Area of Northern California that will not be held as usual is the Great Dickens Christmas Fair.

Part of the appeal of the annual event founded and hosted by the Patterson Family for almost 50 years now was what some refer to as “immersion theatre.” Each year the Dickens Christmas Fair would present ‘A living Victorian Christmas Card.’ Founder and visionary Phyllis Patterson had initially put together a theme for a holiday party in their home. Much to her surprise guests asked if they could do the same the following year. Well, that little holiday gathering, over time became a major theatrical and commercial production. Every year since it has continued to grow to include new attractions, live shows, food, crafts, etc.

The Patterson Family and crew at the annual Great Dickens Christmas Fair hope to return next year in 2021. Meanwhile they are posting a ‘virtual’ “Dickens Fair at Home” for people to check into for new content posted each week. Beginning November 21 (what would have been opening weekend), the first selection of “Dickens Fair At Home” content will be made available. Weekend by weekend, more will be released until Christmas Eve when Father Christmas, relaxing in his chair by the fireside, reads children’s letters and the classic story, “Twas The Night Before Christmas.” Visitors can go to the website and enjoy a series of holiday treats. Still, at the heart of it all is and was the spirit of Christmas, of Dickens and everything related to it, such as the 19th Century. Everyone each year is encouraged to dress up in Victorian Era clothes and participate in as much of the festivities as possible.

One does not have to go the Dickens Fair to experience people dressed in 19th or 18th Century attire. In this 21st Century there are people who have a very strong affinity for historical clothes.

Among such are Millennials and the generation that is coming of age today - believe it or not. And not only do they like to dress up in clothes of the era, they also make them.

Enthusiasts like Zach Macleod Pinsent, Abby Cox and portrait artist Michael Koropisz choose to live most of their day in ‘days of old’ because as Koropisz explained. “When I wear my clothing it makes me feel upright…like I am in the clouds.”

As an artist who grew up in the United Kingdom, it is not that difficult to get a sense of history. With some aspect of history at every turn, England and the entire British Isles do lend itself to stepping back in time. The U.K. is ideal for a portrait painter like Koropisz who is a fan of composers Gilbert & Sullivan.

Abby Cox like Koropisz and Macleod Pinsent has a tremendous appreciation for the quality and craftsmanship that went into clothing of another era. As she says on her YouTube channel, “Fast fashion has taken value out of our clothes.”

Pinsent devoted an entire YouTube episode just to admire a waistcoat from the 18th Century that he had purchased. “It is as old as the United States,” he exclaimed. The finely detailed hand-made waistcoat goes back to the time before the Revolutionary War.

Historian, interior designer and fashion history professor Amanda Hallay, provided some insight into why these talented young people have such affinity.

“I think the reason that many Millennials (and others) are drawn to the past, she said, particularly the Regency, Victorian, and Edwardian Eras, is born of dissatisfaction with what I term the 'casual chaos' of 21st Century life.”

Hallay noted further. “The societal order and personal control of the 19th and Early 20th Century currently appeals to many in our current chaotic climate, and this extends to dress, she said. For the past thirty years (and arguably longer), comfort and ease of dress have been fashion's dominant idea.”

Hallay like Koropisz, Cox and Pinsent have devoted many hours to presentations/lectures on YouTube and elsewhere. “Fashion is not an island, it is a response,” says Hallay. And, it no matter what the time frame or era, a sense of fashion always is.

In her presentations on YouTube Hallay often mentions that “all colors and pallets were present in every decade,” and that includes previous centuries like the 18th and 19th Century.

This is very much the case for Pinsent as he points out the intricate use of brocade in many of the period-piece clothing he wears for themed events and occasions.

James Townsend of Jas Townsend & Son, Inc. would relate very well to Pinsent; Because he too, appears on his Townsend YouTube channel wearing a dashing waistcoat from time to time. While much of what he points to is more of a Daniel Boone era pace of time, his company provides quality reproductions of 18th and early 19th Century clothing and accessories. This he and his staff make for movies, television programs and fellow enthusiasts. Townsend and others like him are part of a living history community. His shop- enterprise and headquarters of operation is located in Pierceton, Indiana.

These “time-travelers” of sorts are presenting society with not only a glimpse of what was but perhaps what could be incorporated into the future.

Cox for one advocates for more natural fibers in fabrics and better quality made clothing. Apart from a corset or bodice, the clothes of the past are comfortable as she said, “people in times past dressed for the weather.” The natural cotton and wool were for all practical purposes made to last and to endure.

There was no air conditioning, or central heating as we know it today. And, since much of the work in Colonial America was agricultural or related to such, people dressed accordingly. She also made a point of saying, “what we wear today displays everything.”

Hallay agreed as she said. “We have become so casual as a society that we have serious discussions (in some of the groups I know) as to whether or not yoga pants should be worn to the office.”

And with the trend of 'Fast Fashion' Hallay continued, there’s an implication that we must constantly be buying - constantly updating - it's no surprise that some are left bewildered by this, she said. And so prefer to spend their sartorial time in a world where clothing was cared for, and where dressing for the day took time, effort, and an attention to detail that fashion today no longer requires.”

The sense of a retreat from the high tech world outside is definitely one reason why Koropisz enjoys the ‘Regency Period’ of the past. As he said, “I can recreate my own little version of a palace of Versailles…It puts me in the right mood for the day.”

Meanwhile, as the holiday season approaches you can enjoy each of the people mentioned in this article by visiting the website links included. (Photos and video clips courtesy of Michael Koropisz, Pinsent Tailoring, Abby Cox, Jas Townsend & Son, Professor Amanda Hallay, Kathryn Sterbenc and The Patterson Family- The Great Dickens Christmas Fair)