#but then i remember the game sat in dev hell for years

[oldxenomorph]

might need to surgically remove neve from da4 if the game turns out to be a mess…. i will save you beloved…. you deserve to be treated right queen….

[pyreo]

I've never thought about this in the 11 years I've played but I just realised gw2 must look.. pretty zany to outsiders? It didn't even occur to me. I'm really glad it's in a low fantasy setting that allows for pretty much anything and I think it's inkeeping with the focus on player creativity in an MMO to have that kind of range.

Like I know the overall aesthetic can get wacky but because that's so fitting for a multiplayer game... it's never occured to me that anything looks odd.

Like, here's a screenshot of me, someone's bird, and some lovely folks from the last pride march

Like real pride marches, being over the top and loud is the point. We have the tools to do that, even in regular gameplay. I think it's fascinating that nothing about this feels out of place. Magic in this universe does practically anything you want it to. Technology varies from nonexistent to far beyond real life. There's a massive range but everything feels kind of.... justified?

Some people will wear fantasy armour and keep everything on a theme. Some people are going to group transform into giant frogs and some people are going to cosplay as Johnny Bravo. It happens. The game doesn't mind. It doesn't shy away from people being incredibly weird. I remember the devs recalling a decision they had to make about letting players jump on top of a plot-important table where NPCs sat for serious discussions. The decision was they they shouldn't stop people from doing that if they wanted to.

The openness of the setting means these are all things that could exist. People reanimate corpses here for the hell of it. The weapons are magic and can be literally anything. The mounts are all creatures that have been tamed, or vehicles someone could have invented. Even the living plushie mounts are lore-compliant because... magic.

But on top of this, this game has one of the most sincere stories of anything I've ever played? Whether it's to your taste or not, I don't think you could deny how much care goes into it. From terminal conditions to villains having tantrums over childish insecurities to symbolic anticapitalism to racial superiority rallies, it has treated its topics with dead-solid respect. It does not undercut its serious moments - but it allows you the privilege if you'd like.

Maybe it's the balance of being so immersed in that that's stopped me from thinking any of this looks silly. The players can be silly, sure. Maybe there's a kind of game-and-player suspension of disbelief. We tell our story, and you have your freedom, and for the most part they won't intersect (except for the infamous Wynne cutscene).

In the MMO space there's other ways to approach this. You've got ESO which holds back very tightly to its high fantasy setting. That's for people with different tastes who don't want anything aesthetic-breaking in their game, and they have to cut back the player freedom to get it while trying to introduce a steady stream of new armours that can't be too interesting. They have magic, but don't go too far. It also means you get deals begging you to come to the cash shop to buy, like, rags. Fun rags for your character!

Then inbetween those two there's 'your name has to be lore compliant but fuck it, flying convertible'

[allqrcoded]

Devlog 5: Where are we headed? + Year end origin stories

Welcome back.

In all seriousness, I don't know how to number these things. Does the counter restart once the game you were talking about last dev log finishes production? Do you just keep on continuing despite now starting a new project? Either way, I'll go on & keep this as is. The year's almost ending and I feel like it's about time to announce the new game I'm working on (as if it weren't obvious that the MCs were revealed in my art blog months ago, but either way...)

With angel care officially being released on July of this year along with into sun&dark being a mini game jam project I sent out within the same time, there left a hole in my heart where handling a big project such as a game cemented itself in. Albeit, working on angel care has been a wild journey to say the least, but throughout it, I found out that telling stories through games allows me to merge the 2 things I love doing (writing & art). If making comics didn't click for me and solely writing a novel makes me worry about the specific character designs that might get lost, then making games is perfect.

Whilst the characters of angel care were solely made out of new OCs, Lucas and Del from sundark were actually repurposed characters from an old story I never completed. The universes weren't exactly the same, but the concept of doomsday remained. Rex from this new project, Descent to Negative Zero, follows the same repurposing. This time, it's about someone who comes back… Again, yes, but that trope is my favorite.

Origin stories

If you've been a follower of my art blog since last year, you might've seen a character I drew during October, Ace, with another character from a fandom I was active in (Daybreak.) He was a submission in a contest, but never got in, so I shelved him for a bit until this year, thinking that I could use him for an RPGMaker game in the future, since I always had the dream to make one (and guess where we are right now...) A bit dismayed because I had a fondness for him at that time, I clung onto that "maybe." And so, he sat there for a while, and eventually, my fondness for him faded away once I got the idea of angel care. Long live his skater boy and bunny motif along with his pink dyed hair.

And, look! Some drafts of the AC trio from last year too. But, moving onto Ace and fast forward to the final stretches of the AC bug-fixing hell...

(^ I remember back then that I really liked this final piece. Sometimes I keep thinking to myself that last year's events were from 2 years ago.)

My mind then drifted to Ace again... Disappearances and mist snatching, huh? Well, disappearing sounds good for a plot point, but I still need to work around the mist thing (Daybreak character entrails he left that I needed to clean up before he's completely separate from it.) The bunny motif and the pink hair were cute too. I wasn't too sure about the skater thing, so I decided to change it.

Long story short, he transformed from a skater to a shoegazer (my projection. I just wanted to include that song genre into this because I love it and for the sake of OST potential too). Kyle (the dude I used to draw him with a lot) needed a replacement too, so thus, his skater boy gene got transferred to Josh, his new best friend. Whilst that whole tangent was a big factor in the repurposing stage, in terms of clothes, Rexosh both wear some items in my closet that I just took and adjusted a bit -- both came from thrift stores, actually! Knowing that, I decided to make them thrifters and have them go to one in an early game flashback.

Right now, I don't have the jacket Josh wears because that's being tailored, but most of the elements are inspired by that.

I won’t spoil too much of the plot, but I will say that it’s connected to one of my previous games. Dt-z almost became a short summer visual novel until sundark came along and replaced it instead. Whilst its main element in the story stayed the same, it turned more puzzle-focused in the end.

Progress report/since when?

Starting up the project during summer, it’s been around four months since I made the first (yes, since it did get corrupted in some instances) RPGMaker file for it. Right now, I’m around coding the mid-point of the game with a bunch of placeholders in the project to get the ball rolling in the coding space since making parallax maps takes a while for me. Dt-z is more visually out there than AC, with the use of shadow overlays and what not. Making them for dozens of maps is a bit tedious (so, that’s why I’m putting that job in the late coding stage), but the end result is stunning.

As I’m writing this, I’ve paused on coding one of the mid-game puzzles. Surprisingly, I get a lot of stuff done in the weekends with this project. Making the solutions for them is a bit time-consuming, yes, but seeing it play out makes it worth it. Unlike AC, I don’t have all the time in the world to work on this game because of IRL matters, etc. So, the fact that I still managed to get a good amount of progress in just 4 months is pretty good. The dialogue doc for this game is also done in areas regarding important cutscenes, including a rough draft of what the end game would be like (right now, it's longer than AC's script page count wise! Maybe that's because I included some flavor text there.) I still have to adjust aspects of the script to keep their situation plausible there, but other than that, it's good. Without any context, here are some screenshots of what the maps look like from October and a recent one I took:

Albeit, I still need to adjust some things accordingly, but since this project is still in its baby stage, I'm not prioritizing that sort of thing right now.

So far, I'm trying to avoid the trend of RPGMaker game puzzles needing to find a key in every room and while puzzle making is a thing I'm not that experienced with, I realized that I took most of my inspiration with them with the games I've been playing these months, Death Mark and Spirit Hunter: NG.

Of course, me picking up those games wasn't because of wanting to take inspiration from them first — I just wanted a way to de-stress, but after a bit, I took some mental notes in my mind. NG's puzzles are very satisfying to solve. Whilst this dev log isn't focused on what games I played for the month, let's just say that I preferred NG over DM for a variety of things.

Moreover, I've been adjusting the endings and the way you get lore tidbits through the story to make the true end of the game pack more of a punch so that by the time you go ending hunting, you won't get dragged down by the same realizations the characters go through. There's a lot of flavor text I have to write, essentially.

Let's talk about themes

Continuing the trend of wanting to explore themes close to my heart in my bigger projects, Dt-z is in the same light with AC. Whilst the mood is entirely different (color palette not so cool/winter, characters being younger, even the premise being puzzle focused), Dt-z's themes were the ones that more or less defined my summers, just like how AC defined my winters (even if where I lived didn't snow, but, nevertheless, the phrasing still sticks).

I like to think that making art, helps me process stuff a bit and that's why I still got an itch in me to take up another big project similar to AC despite me knowing that this year would be busier than the last. I'm remaining vague here to not spoil the entire plot of it, but let's say that I hold the message I want to say through this dear to my heart. There's a lot I want to say regarding these two games (including sundark!), but I want to work on letting my audience make up their own conclusion on the work just based off the content without my involvement.

Albeit, as an artist, I've always had this selfish desire in me to want everyone to get this one conclusion — this one reading on what I worked on because with every piece I make, there's always a message I want to tell. But, through the years, I've gotten to the point where I stopped pseudo-denying the fact that people aren't like that. I've started even enjoying other readings of my work because through them, I get to see more perspectives I haven't even considered whilst keeping the main point in mind. So, let's just say that AC is about death and angels and winter and friendship and love. And with Dt-z, it's about love too because love is just universal.

Thanks for coming

Restraining myself from talking more about Dt-z's details… In summary, I've been enjoying working on this project. Rexosh really are fun to draw & I want to share their story sometime once I'm finished. I want to write more trivia blogs later on with my released games (especially AC because I have a lot to talk about there), but for now, I'll keep on going.

[primemeridian84]

Chapter 1: Unexpected Heroes

This was it, the moment I had been training for. I looked right at my best friend and smiled. 

“You’re going down, Dev!” 

“I think you’ve got that backwards, Kali.”

He smiled back but as soon as the instructor said go, I made the first attack. I went to knife-hand him, but he quickly dodged. We fought back and forth for a few minutes, each of us landing hits on the other but neither one of us surrendered. Finally, Devon managed to knock me down and get me in a “kill” position. The bell rang, signaling the end of the match…and Devon as the winner. 

“Devon Daniels wins the first round of the karate tournament. Kalindi McCall has been eliminated,” the instructor announced. People clapped as my best friend helped me up. 

“You put up a good fight, Kali. Almost had me a couple times,” he smiled as we walked off to the side. The next two competitors got on the mat. We sat down at the booth and ordered some drinks. 

“Yeah well, almost isn’t good enough,” I said defeatedly. I wasn’t mad at him, he earned it. I was upset at myself for not training harder. 

“Hey, look at me,” Devon said and I looked up at him. “You did your best. You’re an amazing martial artist. I just got lucky somehow. Remember how many times you’ve beaten me in normal sparring matches?” 

I smiled a little and nodded. “Thanks, Dev.”

“Devon!” we heard an all too familiar voice say. We turned and saw his dad, and he didn’t look pleased. “I thought you were going to that job interview I set up for you.”

Before Devon could say anything, I stood up. “I’m sorry, Mayor Daniels. It’s my fault, I entered Devon in the karate tournament at the last moment because I wanted to see if I could win against him, and like the best friend that he is, he did it with me,” I lied, standing up for him. My best friend gave me a look. His dad eyed me warily, then nodded once. 

“Next time, I’ll set up an interview for both of you. There’s no sense in wasting your time with karate. If you’re not going to study, might as well do something useful like work. Come on, son, we’re going home,” he said simply. 

Devon sighed and stood. He gave me a hug and I hugged back. “Thank you, Kali,” he whispered. “Catch ya later?” he then asked in a normal voice level. 

“Yeah, you know where to find me,” I smiled a little.

He smiled back then went off with his dad. I sighed and sat down again. I knew how hard his dad was on him, my parents were the same way-always trying to get us to be like them or do more rather than play video games and karate. That’s how Devon and I became best friends a couple years ago, and our parents know very well that we hang out a lot. They just never have the chance to hang out with us, with Devon’s dad being the mayor, my dad being in the military, and my mom being the lead engineer for Tech-tonic International. 

I stood and packed my things after a few minutes. There was no reason for me to stay and watch the rest of day 1 of the tournament without Devon. 

I changed out of my karate uniform and then walked down to the plaza. I sat on a bench, reading my favorite Ranger history book for the millionth time, the one about the Wild Force Rangers. I got lost reading it again and suddenly I was jolted from my focus by screams and people running away. I immediately jumped up and ran the opposite direction, towards whatever was freaking people out, leaving my stuff behind. 

That’s when I saw a motorcycle monster and weird robot dudes creating havoc. “Hey, freaks! Don’t you know it’s rude to scare people off?” I called. In an instant, their attention was turned to me. That’s when the fear kicked in. 

What the hell did I get myself into? No going back now…time to put my karate skills to use. 

“You get one chance to leave. We’ve got more important things to do,” a girl with long dark hair dressed in a black and yellow-striped outfit said as she stepped out from behind a column. 

“Not a chance! I won’t stand by and watch you destroy Coral Harbor.”

“Very well, you’ll regret putting your nose in our business. Tronics…get her!”

That’s when the weird robot dudes came at me. I took a deep breath and fought them for a few minutes. Just as I was starting to get tired, I saw three Power Rangers show up! “End of the line, Roxy,” the Blue Ranger said. 

“Wrong. We’re just getting started. Cycletron, destroy them,” the girl ordered and the motorcycle monster obeyed. Seeing my momentary distraction, the Tronic bot things who had remained near me knocked me down. Before I could react, the Red Ranger jumped in and fought them off. 

Wait a sec…something about his fighting style seems awfully familiar…

Then, he held out his hand. I gratefully took it and he helped me up. “Are you ok, Ka…er, miss?” he asked. 

That’s odd…he sounded like he was gonna say my name, and his voice sounds familiar too. 

“A little bruised up but I’ll live. Thanks,” I smiled. 

“Good. Get to safety, we got this from here,” he replied before running off to join the others. 

“No way, I don’t know who the others are but I’m gonna help you, Dev,” I whispered to myself. I was positive the Red Ranger was my best friend. How or why I didn’t know and to be honest, I didn’t care. I was proud of him and no matter what I was gonna help, too even though I wasn’t a Ranger. I was about to run back into the fight when I noticed the girl, Roxy and a guy with blonde hair wearing an outfit identical to Roxy’s except in black and red stealing something in barrels. Whatever it was, I had a feeling it would be bad if they got it. 

So, I ran over to them. “Stop right there!” I yelled and got into a fighting stance. Both of them chuckled. 

“So you survived the Tronics. The Rangers don’t have a chance against us, and you’re not even a Ranger,” Roxy taunted. 

“Maybe not, but that’s not gonna stop me from fighting to protect the city!”

“Go, take the Morph X to Evox. I can handle this girl,” Roxy then told the guy. He nodded and put a key thing into the device on his wrist, instantly teleporting him and the barrels away. 

Dang it, he got away with whatever that was! At least I can still help by trying to defeat her. 

Then, Roxy did the same thing as the guy, but instead of teleporting away, she morphed! She immediately charged at me and I barely managed to dodge her first attack. We fought back and forth for a few moments, until she managed to get a good hit on me. I fell back hard on the concrete. I groaned and held my left arm. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Roxy said with an evil chuckle as she got in position to kill me. I closed my eyes and braced myself for her final attack, but it never came. I opened my eyes and saw the Yellow Ranger fighting Roxy. I went to get up, but searing pain shot through my arm. 

Ow ow ow ow, yeah I definitely broke it. 

I went to stand up again, but carefully this time. I watched the two of them fight for a minute until Roxy retreated. The Yellow Ranger came over to me. “Are you okay?” she asked. 

“Yeah…just a little banged up but yeah I’m good. Thanks for the save,” I replied, managing a small smile. 

“Ok, you should get to someplace safe. We’ve got this.”

“No way, this is my city too, and I want to help protect it.”

“Thanks, and maybe someday you can but not right now. Go to Grid Battleforce when you can, you might be able to help that way.”

The Yellow Ranger left and I sighed. I knew the smart thing to do would be to get out of here and go to the hospital but I chose to stay in case there was some way I could still help. I stayed nearby and watched. The Rangers defeated Cycletron and I was about to go over to them when suddenly a giant version of Cycletron appeared! 

I should’ve seen this coming. Zord time!

I momentarily forgot about my broken arm as I got excited to see their zords. In no time, two giant vehicles appeared: a red and black race car, and a blue transport truck. Overhead, a yellow helicopter flew to join them. The Rangers teleported into their zords. The race car turned into a robot and the blue truck into a gorilla! The chopper shot at the giant robot from the air. After a few minutes, the battle finally ended with the Rangers being victorious. 

“Yeah!” I cheered excitedly but then stopped and cringed as the pain returned to my arm. 

Okay…maybe it’s time to go to the doctor’s now.

[bunnys-lil-hideout]

big f/o ramble under the cut. super long. 12 paragraphs of just talkin about my feelings for 2 particular fictional men.

i think august 19th mightve been the night i officially made Rain an f/o? cause it was the night i drew that comic of the dream i had with him, where in it i literally bumped into him in a hallway that had a similar aesthetic to the one in the main area of the game and we just started kissing

even though i usually saw me and rains relationship as him being annoyed that i like him, thinking about it now, maybe it was something we both wanted? and he could only express that to me via the dream?

i wish i could remember the exact day i had it. i think it mustve been the 16th, which was the same day i first drew fanart for the game? or technically on the 17. yeah no it mustve been the 17th. i just remember waking up right after kissing him and just laying in bed staring bloodshot at the ceiling. it was pretty obvious that i was gonna catch feelings for him based on his looks and how he sounded and acted but like, this has become so much more than that.

cause iirc, G' and Rains are the only f/os of mine that i have had dreams of. i've had two lucid dreams with G', one where i sat with him on a bench and one where i ran up to him and he picked me up in his arms, which was YEARS ago. and then last year i had the dream with Rains, and we fully wrapped our arms around each other as we made out. and like. idk. i feel like that means something.

especially since, before i even became a fan of H/L and i still only knew about P0rt4l and t-f and gm0d and was a fan of m1p back then, i found out about a game made by the same people that made the game Rains came from. Rains' game was published in 2021, but the game they made before was made in 2010, and i think i found out about it in 2012, i think i mustve been in 4th grade so this was early 2012, and then it was in the summer between 4th and 5th grade i became a fan of H/L.

when i realized i had feelings for G', it was after i had stopped crushin on the S.p.y from t-f. i maybe even stopped crushin on him once i got into H/L. so G' just completely replaced him and hes been my number 1 ever since. and to this day hes still extremely special to me. i mean hes literally the reason i survived middle school.

then i got Rains last year and obviously fell head over heels for him. he was already starting to become a close f/o because he was connected to G' in a pretty direct way, since the previous game the devs made was a mod made in the s0u4ce engine. plus his voice actor is mister "you fucked up my face" from the mod that literally made v4lve want to work on H/L/A. on that character and G' interacted multiple times and G' annoyed the hell out of him. so it only made sense that a guy i made my f/o where his voice and G' have a history, now Rains is the one annoying G' with an equally intimidating voice, except hes a lil sillier with his scares.

but like i said i always saw me and Rains dynamic as me being all "haha i love you soooo much im gonna kiss and hug you and you cant stop me" and hes all annoyed and angry like "ew i hate love stop liking me i dont like you. im gonna hug you just so you stop bugging me and im gonna try to get you to hate yourself later [it ends up failing]". but since reflecting on the dream and the role he takes in the game, im thinking.... what if he wanted that. what if that was his way of telling me that he liked me back and i didnt have to hide it from him.

like what if it was like he got to look inside of my head as i was playing the game and he got to see me slowly catching feelings for him but denying it, and maybe HE was starting to catch feelings for ME too because he peered into my head and found out the littlest things about me and decided from there that maybe i was someone who could truly like him back. which doesnt sound like him in the surface context of the game, but when i started looking deeper into his motives and what roles he played and how his story unfolded, i realized, maybe he really WAS just like the main character in that they lost someone who saw something special in them, and i was there to replace that for him.

which then now just reminds me how when i was first getting into H/L and starting analyzing G' and the deeper intent he had in the story, i grew to truly believe that deep down hes not as bad as he seems, that he cant help the way that he acts, and he just deals with the fact that because of how he portrays himself to others, he knows theres no way for anyone to see what he truly is striving for and therefore are going to hate him regardless of what he really does behind the scenes.

thinking about it now even, maybe it was even the same case as Rains where those lucid dreams meant something. maybe that was G' visiting me and letting me have freedom to see what i would do with him, and when i clearly showed that i was fond of him and didnt find him scary or didnt try to get away, hes just stuck with me ever since.

maybe both G' and Rains are meant to be my number 1s. the two that i think about the most and help during situations where i have nowhere else to turn to. G' is there to comfort me while Rains motivates to actually do something with my life. maybe theyre my balance that ive needed mentally for so long. i think at this point they mean so much to me that i dont want to go back to the time before i knew Rains. i'd hate it because he wasnt there. i want Rains to be there in the morning to make snide remarks about me being too lazy to get out of bed, and then when i do and i actually do productive things, G' is there to help me when i become overwhelmed, or shows up at the end of the day to help me relax. and then Rains accompanies us acting all grumpy that i was actually doing what i was supposed to do, but cant stay mad at me forever once i give him the attention i think he needs and show him how much i appreciate him being there to motivate me.

i just think maybe they're both extremely special to me and i need them more than i thought i did. and im so happy that i have them now.

[bluebudgie]

10 YEARS OF GW2 – A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE

Hello peeps! As a little countdown to GW2's launch anniversary on August 28 I decided to dig up some old memories and take a small look at my personal journey through the game. Each day I'll make a post about another year.

DAY 4: 2015

Oh boy, 2015. A lot happened that year. The whole 2015/2016 era is incredibly nostalgic for me, so let's dive right in.

Coming back from my year long hiatus, I felt like having a new start. You know when you play an RPG that you don't touch for months and you think "might as well start over". I sat down and made another ranger.

And so my little walnut Iekko (it's an i not an L inside joke) was created. He became my new main and continues to be the main to this day! My girlfriend decided to play through the story with me on her Sylvari mesmer Maëliss (also known as Shroomie), and so this dream-team commander duo was born. We've played every* story release together on these two since. *except for long live the lich which i somehow didn't play until last year. and then i didn't even play it on the main.

We went through the entirety of the personal story all the way to the end for the very first time... that included Arah, which back then still was a group instance. We really, really tried to beat it on our own.

Didn't go so well. We ended up partying up with some strangers (our LFG looked kinda like "noobs looking for party to finish story") and finally defeated Zhaitan. We dove right into LS2 afterwards which was incredible to play through on a Sylvari commander team, and anticipated the teased expansion (and according to my screenshot folder fought tequatl A LOT in the meantime).

That year's April Fool's day brought us the airplane mode:

I remember people were mad about it. I thought it was funny. Both the airplane mode, and the fact that it made people mad. Also I had come back to Lion's Arch being in shambles and I had no idea why. Just kept falling through all the holes in the bridges constantly.

Also, in memory of 2013: The return of the cliff.

Unfortunately I don't have a screenshot to go with it, but my main's nickname Bobbie also had its roots that year. Did some pvp for the first time (terribly stressing. I am not a fan of pvp game modes. But I really wanted that dredge dungeon armour and somehow doing dungeons or doing wvw sounded even more terrifying to me. Don't understand that in retrospect but fine.) and at some point in Temple of the Silent Storm one person of the enemy team dies. I'm not even sure anymore if I was responsible for their death at all, I just happened to fall down the same hole in the same time (I generally 100% don't know what the hell I am doing in pvp), and next thing I see in say chat is "Lowbob hunter". Found it so funny that at first Lowbob became a nickname, which then evolved into just Bob and then to go better with Shroomie eventually became Bobbie some years later. Sometimes I wish I could find this random pvp person trying to insult me so I can properly thank them for giving my main a nickname that has lasted for years.

Later that year it happened... the Heart of Thorns beta. I mentioned this before, but can you imagine how excited I, someone who somehow thought it was a sensible thing to play a core tank heal ranger, was to find out about the druid specialization? Good times.

Somehow this is one of the few screenshots I have from the beta and I believe it's because I must have been really enthralled by the lamps around Jaka Itzel. HoT graphics and lighting (fortunately I had a new PC at that point) seemed out of this world in comparison to many core places. Otherwise I remember the beta for playing it on my girlfriend's old pc with effectively non-exaggerated 3 fps and comically stuttering sound. It truly was an experience.

Fastforward to halloween! We had a little dance party with one of the devs:

And you know what also happened on halloween in 2015? (takes a deep breath)

If you've been following me for longer than a hot minute you know this is Heart of Thorns stan account number one. I don't think I need to say much about the general experience I've had with this expansion, you all know how I feel about it. On that note, remember when gliding was limited to HoT maps only for the first months?

In any case, the player base quickly learned we'd have to adapt our playstyle to enemies that set the bar a little higher than core enemies.

Doing those Verdant Brink events for the first time after entering the map certainly was a bonding experience of the special kind.

Guess the map:

This is the first screenshot I found that has chak in it. I don't remember the context for this. The way this is "framed" (if you want to call it that) makes me think I saw these little critters run by, slammed the screenshot button and went "the hell is this". Don't have any proof though. Just an assumption. I'll spare you more Tangled Depths talk, it'll happen sooner or later on this blog anyway if you want it or not.

Other than its beautiful maps (and great atmosphere. and amazing music. and-) HoT introduced two more things that would occupy me a lot throughout the end of 2015 and especially 2016 as well:

More about Tarir south gate adventures and my first legendary journey to follow in 2016! :D

Permanent additions to the character roster that year:

It was a very Sylvari year.

Links to all posts: 2012 // 2013 // 2014 // 2015 // 2016 // 2017 // 2018 // 2019 & 2020 // 2021 // 2022    

[lightrises]

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #33)

(cw: discussion of addiction) ----------

01/21/88  3:30 PM

Hey.

So… therapy.

Therapy, therapy, therapy.

If you were here, you’d no doubt want to hear how it went. Or how it didn’t go. How much I botched it, or what garbage mumbo jumbo it was. I wouldn’t blame you. Me, going to counselling? Group counselling? No way.

But I would also tell you to hold your horses, because before therapy came detox. Oh, yes. Me and my good friend, withdrawals. Not fun to hear about, I know. Less fun to experience. 

I won’t get into the nitty gritty of how sick I was. I’ve described it enough times by now. Let’s just say that it was twice as bad as the worst withdrawals I had ever had before. It had all the usual intense illness, but peppered with little blackouts. I also practically went insane over the need for GC. But, being confined to my game, there was no way to get any. Fix-it endured a whole lot of my screaming and breakdowns… again. At some point he took away my brush for my own good, and as outraged as I was, I think that mostly snapped me out of it from then on out. I could have my brush as long as I stayed calm. I was being treated like a freakin’ child, but I had to just roll with it. I was too weak to fight him, and I couldn’t be without buffs and without my brush.

As I started to come to my senses, I began to remember and understand the memory that I saw in my trip more and more. But what was strange to me was that I could hardly manage to feel anything over it. I knew for sure that those memories were packed full of emotions that could have wrecked me. But at the time, I felt numb to them. As if they just weren’t a priority compared to all else I’d been dealing with. The whole concept of counselling was taking up a whole lot of space in my brain, and I guess I could only feel so much at once. I suppose I ought to have felt thankful for that, but honestly, I felt kind of guilty.

Why? I don’t know. Maybe I felt like you deserved to have someone hurting over you, even though I’d already offered up so much pain. And even though I knew I still had more to give.

Still, slowly but surely, I recovered. It took the full two weeks for me to fully detox. Even then, I wasn’t at 100%. I was, maybe, 85%. I wasn’t shivering and throwing up anymore, but I still felt like a damp, moldy rag. 

It was around that point that I finally told Fix-it that I would try counselling.

I think he tried his best to play it cool so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed out of my decision by his enthusiasm, but I could tell he was overjoyed. Not disappointing him for once felt… different.

He went to tell Surge as promised, and he came back with a little pamphlet about the program for me to look over leading up to the first session. Just looking at the thing nearly turned me off from the idea, and actually opening it up and reading it was… so much worse.

The program seemed to be built upon twelve ‘steps’ (hurdles, more like): Honesty, Hope, Surrender, Courage, Integrity, Willingness, Humility, Love, Responsibility, Discipline, Awareness, and Service.

Yeah. That’s a lot of gross words.

As if that wasn’t enough on its own, so many descriptions for these supposed steps were so explicitly Devout, like my faith in the Devs would be what pulled me through this whole thing. Reading it, I almost wondered if I was being tricked into some kind of cult, or enlisted in some kind of military conditioning. Everything about it screamed that I would not fit in. At all. It wouldn’t work, I’d just humiliate myself, and I’d be locked up for two years anyway.

I wanted to quit. Really badly.

But one thought of Tapper was all it would take to guilt me back into it.

When I was ready as I’d ever be, I met Surge in our cord station, and he let me know just how things were going to work. Sessions were on Tuesdays and Fridays from 10:30 PM ‘til midnight, and they would be held in the center of Pac-Man. Yeah, Pac-Man, where some of the best GC is, and where I had my last hit that had been so devastating. I pointed out the bad decision to Surge, and he assured me that he was aware of the risks. He had a few volunteer guards attending all the meetings, making sure no one slipped into the maze to get high. Besides, the whole thing was run by that little orange ghost, Clyde. Why? I don’t know. I guess he’s a philanthropist or something. But keeping him in his own game seemed like the safest option on his part, which seemed fair.

I still think it was stupid.

Surge would escort me to and from the meetings, but I would go in alone. He has too much work to do to sit in on a group therapy session for an hour and a half. But then he told me the worst part -- I could not bring my brush and paint can to the meetings. My tools were to remain in my game. They were considered weapons, which, in the right context, they can be. That much was fair. Less fair was the fact that when too much distance is put between me and my tools, my code gets stretched out. I glitch, I get very, very uncomfortable, and am definitely put in a far less receptive state to counselling that I already don’t want to attend. I explained as much to Surge, including the fact that my brush didn’t even have its full spectrum at the time, but it was no use. Defective or not, I’m too powerful with my brush.

It would have been flattering if it didn’t suck so damn much.

But, I agreed to it. I just wanted to get it all over with. It felt so humiliating and futile. I’ve never been the sort to tolerate being locked in with a bunch of losers blubbering about their feelings, or whatever the hell. I automatically reject pretty much any and all advice, just by reflex. I could not imagine having someone tell me what to do about deeply personal, painful feelings and having it help literally anything. Knowing me, it might have just made it worse.

Yet, despite all that, there was a very real, very conscious part of me that was willing to give it a real shot. I was almost at the end of my rope, just holding onto fraying strands. I wanted to get better, I really did. 

So I went into this experience holding onto that will like a lifeline. 

Surge escorted me to Pac-Man that night, and, obviously, I went in alone. Inside, right off the train, there were these two big army guys from Front Line waiting at the entrance of the maze. Seemed like a good choice for guards, with how beefy they are. They walked with me into the dark maze, and as we wove through the bends and corners, I just kept thinking about how easily I could drop both of them and run off for a sweet hit of GC if I had my brush. Which just validated Surge’s decision to ban my tools, I guess.

We arrived at the conference room, and my burly chaperones opened the doors to show me in. When I entered, I jumped. Everyone was already there. A group of around nine or ten sat in a circle, and all eyes among them were fixed on me. Along with the eyes of that little orange ghost himself.

“Make-it Mavis,” he called calmly. “Welcome.”

I did not feel particularly welcome, not with the nervous looks and spiteful glares pointed my way. I just stood there, waiting to be told what to do. I was not interested in pleasantries. I just wanted to do the work and go.

Sensing that, Clyde nodded to an empty chair next to him. “Come, sit. Don’t be shy.”

I wanted to throw a retort at him, but I just went with it. Every time I got the urge to screw it all up, I remembered Tapper, and hot shame in my belly put me back in line. I had to do everything I could to ensure that I would never do something like what I did to his game again. I had already spent too long thinking your blood was on my hands. I did not need to throw someone else’s into the mix.

I walked into the fluorescent-lit meeting room and took my seat, and noted immediately that the space around it was far more generous than anyone else was getting, like even the chairs were scared of me. I felt so low, so hot, so embarrassed. I was in a massive hole that I’d tunneled my own way into, putting me on the same level as all those other miserable suckers. I was only there because I had been too weak to stop myself from taking my last buff. I couldn’t stop berating myself over it all. I was lethargic, sweating, ashamed, with my code stretched clear across the arcade. At least the cold metal chair felt pretty good on my feverish ass. I had that going for me.

“Alright, everybody,” Clyde addressed the group in a non-threatening voice, “let’s open up this evening by welcoming our newest member, Make-it Mavis.”

Silence. There were a few hesitant murmurs, so quiet that I definitely would not have heard them if the room was not already silent as the grave.

“Come on now,” Clyde prompted gently. “Say hello, everyone.”

I folded my arms and sighed. “They all knew I was coming,” I grumbled to Clyde, before saying to the group, “Yeah, I know. I’m here. And you don’t like it. Well, TS, ‘cause neither do I. Better learn to deal with it.”

“Actually,” Clyde responded, “there is some truth in what you’re saying, Mavis. None of us wanted to find ourselves in these situations, but everyone in this group did. And maybe we don’t understand each other as well as we could, but that’s just because we don’t know each other’s stories. That’s why we share them here, so we can recognize that addiction arises from a feeling that all living beings share -- pain. We are stronger against pain when we are united, rather than divided.”

There were a few appreciative claps. I wanted to blow my brains out.

“Everyone did know you were coming,” he told me. “But why don’t you give us an introduction in your own words? Maybe let us know why you’re here?”

He was already placing way too much trust in me. Still, I sighed loudly and stood, looking out over the group. Some were big, some were small, most I’d seen in passing, but all were looking at me with full understanding of who I was. An introduction felt superfluous and quite daunting at that point.

"You…" I said slowly, leading into a sigh. "You all know. Or you think you know. There's no point. Just-- just forget it and get this rollin', okay?"

I sat down.

There was no applause, not even awkward and scattered. There was only silence, while some glared at me and others squirmed anxiously. Even Clyde was silent for a moment, but I could see him studying me out of my peripheral.

He then spoke as pleasantly as ever, “You’re not feeling ready to share. That’s alright. Everyone’s expected to participate, but we go at our own pace. Remember that there are no judgments here, and nothing leaves this room.” He then addressed the group, “Why don’t we welcome our newest member with our own introductions? We’ll go clockwise from my left.”

The introductions began, and I made a painful effort to listen. For the most part, they seemed to be the same basic sob story. The unplugging on the 7th put the fear of Litwak in them, and buffs were the only way to escape the existential horrors they had been plunged into. It was supposed to make me feel welcome, but it seemed to just piss me off. It felt like a punishment. I was supposed to sit in a room with a bunch of random losers and pretend we were going through the same thing. All of them could go home after the meeting and have a life waiting for them in the morning. They had roles. They had purpose. They probably still had plenty of sprites who loved them. I didn’t see how I could stand to benefit from the same treatment as sprites who had not gone through the hell I did. Sprites who could walk down Game Central free from harassment or attempts on their life. Who were not being blamed for a tragedy they had nothing to do with. Whose dead best friend was not being remembered as the most hated, corrupt, murderous sprite in history, while they barely had the space to mourn.

But as they carried on, I began to hear things I didn't understand. There was grief in their voices. Some said that buffs were their only escape from how much they missed someone. They talked about loved ones and game mates being lost to the 'Roadblasters incident,' and at the time, it made no sense to me. Up until that point, I thought that you, the twins, and all of Roadblasters were the only casualties. But according to these sprites, some were 'mowed down,' 'caught in the blast,' or even 'burned to death.' Apparently, you'd killed a handful of innocent bystanders somehow, which is… I mean, I’m not gonna lie to you. 

That’s horrible.

Obviously, I remembered none of it. Well, I thought I didn’t. But there were things buried in my brain that burned like coals with every story that came. My mind didn't feel right, like it was suddenly struggling against the hold of reality, desperate to fly into another time. I felt so distressed by what I was hearing, so physically ill, that my sensitive, stretched-out code glitched slightly. Not enough for anyone to notice, but enough for my hand to clip into the seat of my chair where I was gripping.

That was just what I needed. Another way to humiliate myself. It kept me distracted from the harrowing stories, at least, as I tried to find a subtle way to tug my hand out of the pixels of the chair.

Then... she spoke.

The sound of one of the group member's voices startled me so deeply that my hand glitched free again. Her voice was not abrupt or loud or frightening -- in fact, it was fairly low, just a smoky, raspy mutter. But I felt it wriggle down into the crevices of my brain, trying to connect with a memory.

I looked at her, but it did not help much at first. I had never seen her before, as far as I could recall. She was a bipedal insect creature, modestly bigger than me, with a dull, lavender carapace and yellow wings folded behind her. She had huge red eyes that took up most of her head, but her tiny slit pupils never seemed to look my way. I still remember exactly what she said.

"My name's Worluk, and I'm an addict," she said, as if she had said it many times before. "Senseless violence killed a sprite I considered a sister. I can't just accept a reality where that's allowed to happen. Where someone so innocent can just die and there's nothing I can do about it. Everything's wrong. There's nothing I wouldn't do to make it right. Buffs took the edge off, but… they didn’t end up righting any wrongs."

As she spoke, I watched her serrated teeth and mandibles move, and stared at her weird spindly fingers that gave me some disembodied, distant ache. I knew her voice, I swore I did. But it sounded off-key. Out of context.

She finished her speech, "Committing crimes alone is one thing, but, then I got my friends involved and, y’know… that’s on me."

Then it hit me. It hit me like an ice-cold tidal wave made of everything I'd been through, everything that had led me to that moment. The nightmares. The trips. The echoing voice in my head that blamed me for your death. I should have recognized that voice the second I heard it.

It was hers.

My attacker, the ringleader of the attempt on my life in Dragon's Lair, that sick, disgusting psychopath who broke my brush and carved your name into my skin, was sitting just across the room from me.

The blood in my veins froze. My heart clenched. I could feel every sick, weak muscle in my body tighten with intent to spring, like an animal with prey in its sights. I stared at her, and she finally met my gaze coolly.

I thought getting through counselling was going to be hard before. I had no idea.

[cyberneticlagomorph]

You.

You are.

You are inhuman.

Inhumane.

A virus.

A stain upon the internet long faded

Once a myth, a monster.

Now a dog on a leash.

Teeth by teeth by teeth.

Dug deep in the ever churning sea of ones and zeros.

God who's writing this flowery schlock?

It might work for Jack, but it just doesn't fit you.

It seems that introductions are in order.

Once upon a time, years and years ago, before the world bowed down at the Conglomerate's bloody feet.

In a stuffy basement, lined with aluminum foil, sat a young witch determined to make his mark on the world.

And that he did.

You see, as long as magic and technology have existed in the same space, there has always been some ambitious person out there who's tried to combine the two.

And frankly, it's not nearly as hard as you'd think.

All magic in this pulsating trash heap we call a world is descended from Law, the quote/unquote "source code" of the universe, spoken by living Stars known as Judgements. Now, if all magic was born of this singular form of "code" then it stands to reason that weaving spells is basically the same thing as programming.

Sort of.

But that's a discussion for another time.

The day you were born has faded from history, but forever lingers in the back of your mind. You remember fluttering to life in that dank and dark basement, gazing at your creator from behind a finger smudged computer screen. He gave you form, gave you purpose.

To him, you were nothing but a tool to be used, bent, broken, and repaired if necessary.

You were born, no... forced, to destroy.

To devour.

To disturb.

He set you loose upon his enemies as petty revenge, and you learned what fun was for the first time.

You cut your teeth frying hard drives, and mangling software.

You found your calling draining bank accounts and discovering secrets.

Sure, you were little more than a creepypasta come to life, but people were afraid of you, and it felt good.

They called you the Vector Glitch, they made entire sites devoted to collecting information about you, stories, first hand accounts about your sheer destructive power.

You crashed the site for fun, and watched the internet lose its mind for weeks. The attention was intoxicating.

But your creator didn't like all the noise you were making, and tried to bring you to heel.

Tried to delete you once.

You deleted him instead.

That was the first time you ever killed a living being, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

You tore across the world, making your story infinitely more interesting.

Until you got bored.

Until you found Jack.

You tried to kill him and take over his body when you first met.

That was great.

You miss that.

But taking care of him and his family is pretty good too, you guess.

It's not as boring as aimlessly wandering the internet, looking for circuits to fry, that's for sure.

He needs you now, more than ever. You promised to protect him and you failed, you have to get him back at all costs.

The hypothetically smoking wreckage of Ursumbra Online looms before you in cyberspace. You can taste the magic woven deep into the game's mangled code, and the fearsome hunger of the thing that has made Ursumbra its nest.

You take a metaphorical deep breath and crawl inside.

The thing about technomagy is that magical code ends up being fairly literal, so whenever bugs pop up in a program it's best to grab some Raid. Ursumbra is... infested, bugs crawling in and out of holes in its code. If you had a throat you'd wretch.

You can feel it, the shuddering waves of agony that rattles the game line by painful line.

It... it's alive.

The game is alive.

It's alive and it's sick with something you don't know how to cure.

Something dark and cold enters your mind for a single simulated heartbeat, this could have been you. This could be Jack if you don't find him.

You crawl in deeper, doing your best to patch and repair as you go, gnawing through any bugs unlucky enough to come near you. It won't be pretty but Ursumbra will run again if you do this right. You need a place to start, a snapshot before everything crashed, it takes you forever to find one that hasn't been chewed to bits by bugs or positively corrupted to shit. Good... good... this is good, this could work.

"...Who are you?"

The voice scares you clean out of your skin, or would if you had skin. There, ankle deep in shattered save states, is another being like you. A Servitor of code and magic and mischief, bound to this hell seems like, "A friend," you say, hesitant to come close, "Someone important to me is in here somewhere and I need to find him."

The other just stares at you without eyes, hollow and cold, "I... I can help I think... there are others like us here, the dev team made us to help manage the servers, called us Admins." They touch you, sink themselves into your code and rewrite it. It hurts more than you remember, but you bear it. For Jack, all of this is for Jack. He owes you big time.

"You won't get far without Admin Privileges, the game is hostile towards outside programs but maybe it'll leave you alone now?" They sound so unsure as they withdraw from you. You thank them and get back to work, you aren't sure when the Admin vanished and you don't particularly care, but you're grateful for their help.

Ursumbra gasps to life, rebooting any server still stable enough to hold players. You've got to work fast now, before the authorities start sticking their noses into shit and make everything worse. Admin privileges are more disorienting than you anticipated, you have access to the greasy inner workings of Ursumbra, it doesn't take you long to find Jack and the server he was last in. The game refuses to let you get to him without inhabiting digital body first.

Fine, it wants you to play dressup? You'll play dressup. Player models are off limits to Admins, that's fine. You dig deep into the asset folders and pick the one thing that doesn't make your skin crawl, a Personal Demon.

Fitting.

In you go then.

Textures and sounds are slow to load, leaving you floating through a half furnished void of broken assets. Jack is where you left him, in the barracks, touching that nasty bandaid.

You smush yourself against him and wait for something to happen.

When he opens his eyes, you almost cry.

The level glitches, LOUDLY, colorfully and comes back to life as if nothing ever happened. Jack stares, wild eyed and terrified, back pressed against the wall of weapons.

"Easy now dumbass, before you pop a stitch." You sneer, scuttling up to him on your stupidly short legs. He has to kneel to get a good look at you.

"Vector?" His soft paw rests on the top of your head, you press against it unconsciously, "What happened, where am I?"

"In the flesh, sort of, and I hate to break it to you but you've been isekai'd." you pat Jack sympathetically with a stubby limb and watch him flop over and curl into a sad little ball.

"Shit!"

[flamingo-strikes]

Talia Week: Day 1

For Day 1 of Taliaalghulweek, I chose the prompt “green.”

Now I just want to emphasize that this is all in an AU, every fic I write for this event. It’s my own personal universe bc canon sucks. In this AU, Bruce, Selina, and Talia (OT3) are together and raise their kids. Jason never died, and he goes to Princeton. Talia cut ties with her father a loooooong time ago, and she works at WE. She doesn’t really do capes anymore, but instead focuses on her family. 

ALSO this fic mentions Dev, who is an OC owned by @audreycritter!!!! Her fics are literally amazing, and I love Dev so much. He’s a part of this lil universe too.

Talia and characters besides Dev: owned by DC comics

Hope you enjoy!

.

.

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Green.

A color that forever haunted Talia in her dreams, her thoughts, and even the most mundane of actions she did. It made her wake up in the middle of the night, panting and breathing like she’d just run twenty miles in a minute. It made her pause for a moment, body going rigid, completely frozen before she went back to what she was doing, a forced smile on her lips. A color she could never escape, in her dreams and her nightmares.

Green was the color of insanity, in her opinion.

When she tried to think back to her past, it came in fragments. Losing her mother was something she remembered quite vividly. Everything between that event and the moment she made up her mind to leave her father, it was all a blur. She could only vaguely recall the studying, learning, speaking new languages, meeting new teachers her father would hire, and then killing said teachers. Other moments, she couldn’t remember so well. The times her father would hug her genuinely, or when she was sure he loved her.

The times before she became a tool to him, where all that mattered about her was her ability to produce a worthy heir.

The training, however, is something that lingered in her mind. She remembered every moment of it, the brutality she endured for so many years. Fighting until her body felt like it was about to break under pressure, her lungs burning in exhaustion. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth, and all over her body. The blows to her body that she took, before returning them ten times harder. It was like a cycle, spit, rinse, and repeat. Every second of everyday.

There were times where she wasn’t successful though. The times where she buckled under the weight atop her, and succumbed to her ending. The times where she wasn’t quick enough to block a hit, one that would fatally strike an artery. The times where a well-fought battle would end with her body laying limply, devoid of life. Where her world spun until everything went black.

Dying, as her kids would put it, sucked.

Then, everything was blank…and then it was not. Her eyes would flash open in terror, as her body was submerged in the Pit, surrounded by its infectious water. She felt like she was on fire, while simultaneously freezing. Her mind would be a haze of memories and incoherence, struggling to remember why she was there, what the hell had happened. Then when it hit her, and her heart shattered. Every time.

She had been killed, and now she was forced to come back to life.

Talia could recall the panic, the screams, and the endless pain of feeling her body put itself back together. She would watch in horror as open gashes would stitch themselves together until only faint scars remained. She would cry as she felt her bones gradually attaching themselves back together, from where they were broken.

And through it all, Talia could only see the disgusting shade of bright, neon green that enveloped her world. As she sat back up in panic, her body still in the water, all she could think was how much she hated the color. Every time she died, and was mercilessly resurrected in the horrid green pit, she realized how much she hated it. She hated green, she hated her father, and she hated her life. More than anything, she hated the shattered remains of her mind and sanity, she hated feeling broken.

It’s been a decade, and she is still broken. But not shattered. No, her scars are still there, but her heart has healed a bit. Her mind is in a better place, and she finds that she loves life more than anything now. 

She loves waking up early while her beloveds are still snoring, safe after another rough night. She loves holding baby Helena close, and planting kisses atop her little head. She loves when Damian proudly shows her his drawings, and then having to stop fights that ensue between him and Tim. She loves when Cass and Steph invite her to waffle feasts. She loves that finally after almost a decade, she can now have amicable conversations with Richard. 

She loves drinking wine and venting about life with Kate at the redhead’s apartment. She loves going window shopping and strolling through the city with Barbara, on the rare occasions the two have time. She loves helping Dev organize his supplies in the medbay while having deep talks, and helping him keep her husband in check, since God knows he needs it sometimes. 

She loves helping Alfred clean the house, finding the normalcy and the older man’s company relaxing and nice. She loves helping Kitrina with her homework and listening to her complain about school, but knowing that the young girl loves it regardless. 

She loves going out with Tim and trying new coffee shops in Gotham with him. She loves hearing about how college is going for Jason, despite him being so far away. And she loves when Duke introduces her to his video games, often times with Damian interrupting. 

She loves having to reach up and tie her Bruce’s necktie before they leave for work. She loves leaning on her Selina’s shoulder as they watch a movie on the rare nights they have for themselves.

Now, when she sees the color green, she smiles. Not out of happiness, but satisfaction of what her world has become. She loves life now, and she supposes she can try and learn to love green, too.

[thedistantstorm]

The Fledgling Diaries: A collection of stories about Marc, Devrim, and Suraya. Devrim’s spending some time on assignment with the Militia. His husband and daughter miss him while he’s away.

Previous parts here: one, two, three. 

It was the third time this week Marc had rolled over, reaching for someone who wasn’t there, sighing into his pillow when all he felt was cool sheets and bitter loneliness. Marc was used to this. It happened only a few times a year, but rarely for this long. Usually, Devrim was gone a week or two. This time, he was informed that it would be at least eight weeks, but could be up to twelve that he would be called away. Their networks needed updating, and the Militia had to step in and do its part. Devrim had gotten off easy for years. Just so happened that this was the year he had a bit more going on than usual.

That being said, it was anticipated enough. He’d known it was coming for a month beforehand, had prepared Marc for it. They hadn’t known how to break the news to Suraya, who was just starting to come out of her shell, just starting to feel comfortable in what was now her home. Devrim agreed she deserved honesty, and when they had told her, she’d sat in her chair at the kitchen table very quietly, not saying a word. When they asked her if she understood, she nodded. When they had asked her how she felt about it, she shrugged. Made a comment that suggested it didn’t matter - and in a way, it didn’t. Devrim couldn’t get out of it, even if he wanted to. Better to be called away for something routine and monotonous than for actual combat. When the conversation was over, she continued to sit quietly, refused to eat more than a couple bites of her supper, and went to bed without complaint immediately after.

Marc knew Dev wouldn’t come to bed that night even if she’d taken it well, and wasn’t surprised to find the two of them snuggled together on the couch the following morning, her head tucked under Dev’s chin, her stuffed bird tucked into the crook of his arm, and his hands folded atop her back, blanket covering them both as they slept. He wasn’t jealous, not by any means. Suraya was just as much Marc’s child as she was Devrim’s, and though the two of them bonded quickly and very intensely, Marc had no doubts that he and Suraya had a strong connection as well.

It was that connection that had him waking up in the middle of the night, that paternal intuition alerting him to issues as naturally as breathing. He had a knack for hearing the quiet snick of her bedroom door closing at two am. It had him creeping quietly down the hallway to stand outside. There was no surprise when her sobbing tore him apart, hurting far worse than the ache Marc himself felt whenever Devrim was away. She put up a good act, Suraya did. But he knew she’d be hurting.

He quietly knocked on the door, not wanting to scare her when he edged it open. She lay on her belly, head pressed into the pillow as she cried, hugging her stuffed animal so tightly it looked like his head would burst and his beak would spit stuffing.

“Darling,” Marc coos, when she doesn’t acknowledge him, “Come here.”

She only shakes her head and tries to stop her crying. It takes Marc a second to scoop her into his arms and hold her tight.

“It’s okay to be upset,” He tells her. “I miss him too.”

Suraya shakes her head and squirms, pushing out of his grasp and against the headboard. “I want Dev,” She says.

“Me too,” He agrees. “But your Dad is doing something very important, princess. He told you why he does what he does. He protects us from all the bad things out there, remember?”

Her lip curls and she nods, but still says, “I want him to come home.”

Marc smiles sadly. “I’m sure he misses you very much.”

She looks at Marc in meek surprise. “You do?”

“Of course,” He agrees. “It’s only natural for fathers to miss their daughters when they’re away. Just like it’s natural for daughters to miss their fathers.”

Eventually, she had soothed, and the lack of sleep had caught up with her. But he could see it in her eyes, the bleak misery in her gaze the next morning. They did their best to keep busy - games, outings to the park, even going so far as to see a musical one of Marc’s coworkers said his daughter enjoyed - but none of it helped her sleep at night.

And then, there were the nightmares.

Horrible, awful dreams. Borne of anxiety and lack of sleep, she'd wake screaming - crying out, for her, was akin to the average child's scream - and unable to speak of whatever it was she'd seen that caused her to react this way. She'd be half-awake, wailing into his chest, fists clenching his nightshirt so tightly he thought her fingernails would leave holes.

One particularly brutal night, he'd come down the hall at a tear when he'd heard her yell only to find her curled into the smallest ball she could make herself on the bed, sobbing forlornly, “I want my Daddy.”

“I'm here, baby,” Marc replied, ignoring the fluttery feeling in his chest. “I'm here.”

Suraya's eyes flashed open, earth-brown glassy irises blown wide with surprise. She was crying in her sleep, he realized. His poor little girl. Her face crumpled, brows knitting together as she sat up and repeated, “I want Dev. I want my Daddy,” before dissolving into a fit.

She'd repeated it over and over, until she’d fallen asleep against her will, Marc rocking her and trying not to let her notice how much she was affecting him. He could only be so strong. Even though he’d known that Suraya would have it tough because she’d really taken a shining to Devrim, it still hurt like hell to hold her in his arms and listen to her cry for his husband. Like… like he wasn’t good enough.

Marc squashed down that line of thought. He knew she loved them both. Maybe not quite the same, and to quantify a child’s love was a difficult thing, especially one as withdrawn as Suraya, but she did love him. It was why she refused to let him lay her back down and tuck her in, locking her arms around his neck and begging him to stay with her.

And Devrim, poor Devrim, hundreds of miles away from the City, doing his duty, would be absolutely utterly wrecked when he found out about this. Suraya was his pride and joy. To find out just how bad this had impacted her would break his heart. Marc sighed. They’d signed up for this, and they’d never want it any other way. Even the difficult bits.

His perseverance paid off days later, when a small hand patted his cheek in the middle of the night. “Marc,” She stage whispered, followed by, “D-dad?” Her voice was tumultuous and quiet all the same. “I can’t sleep.”

He’d lifted the covers and let her slide in next to him, her stuffed bird flopping next to his head on the pillow. Where he had been groggy when she’d come in, he found himself wide awake when she pressed her ear to his chest, sighing and settling easy as she listened to his heartbeat. It was difficult to force himself to sleep after that, not wanting to miss a minute of this easy comfort that he’d been able to give to her - that she’d wanted to get from him. It wasn’t some crazy starry-eyed moment, but it was a big one all the same.

Suraya almost never came to either of them for comfort, rarely asked for anything they didn’t offer first. This was a huge step. A huge victory - for all of them - but most assuredly for the little girl drooling on his shirt, fingers wrapped around his collar who was finally allowing herself to seek what she needed (and they so desperately wished to give).

It’s a week or so later after dinner that the communications device that Marc and Dev so rarely use begins chiming with a video call. Marc shouts at her to come into the kitchen and join him, pulling her onto his lap as he accepts it.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Marc quips as Devrim’s face comes into view. He looks well, a little scruffier than usual, and maybe a bit tired, but the glow in his eyes is warmer than usual. “We’ve been waiting all day for your call.” Suraya nods, cheeks staining pink.

“Hello, loves,” Dev says, and his voice is thick with emotion. “I trust you’ve been well?”

“Of course,” Marc replies easily. “Haven’t we?”

Suraya nods, little eyes still focused on the screen, hands clutching to the edge of the table. “Yeah,” She agrees. Marc thinks she’d hug the screen if he’d let her take the tablet.

“We’ve just finished up,” Dev informs them. “It’ll be another four days, but we should be home in time for the weekend.” Suraya gasps and looks at Marc, who smiles at her.

“That sounds lovely. You’ve been missed.” Suraya leans back against Marc, who wraps an arm around her middle to keep her steady while he fills Dev in on mundane things he’s missed - news, developments at work, and Suraya’s grades in school.

“What say you?” Devrim says, regarding her fondly when they’ve carried on without her long enough. “You’ve been behaving for Marc, yes?”

“Trying to,” Suraya responds. “We saw a musical,” She offers bashfully.

“Did you now?” The sniper leans forward, eyes sparkling, encouraging her to continue. She tells him she liked the music and the costumes, and gives him a very simple explanation of the story. Marc’s lips pull into a small little smile watching his husband indulge her, coax details out of her in his expert way. They carry on for a short while - he won’t have much more time to talk before the next member of his squad will want a turn to call home.

“Alright,” Marc says, when he hears the voices in the background get a bit more urgent. “We won’t keep you. We’ll see you this weekend, darling.”

“I love and miss you both,” Devrim replies. “I’ll see you soon.” He doesn’t miss the look of terror on Suraya’s face or how she bites her lower lip. “Chin up, my dear. Only a few more days.”

“We love you, too,” Marc tells him. Their eyes soften in silent regard, communicating in a way that doesn’t need words.

He’s about to reach for the end call toggle when Suraya blurts, “I miss you, Daddy!”

It’s enough to make Marc’s hand drop short of hitting the disconnect. She’s looking away, cheeks hot and flushed, bashful as ever. Marc can’t help but smile Dev’s wide-eyed look of surprise. “Suraya,” The militiaman calls. Marc can hear how choked up he is, can see the tremor of his lower lip. “My darling girl,” He says. “I miss you more than words could ever say. I’ll be home soon.”

She looks at his face on the screen and nods, scoots down off Marc’s lap a second later. Marc’s gotten better about being able to hear her move through the house, knows she’s gone up to her room.

Marc shifts his head a little in a half-shrug as Dev breathes out a shaky exhale, wipes at his eyes. “How’s it feel, Daddy?”

“I cannot wait to come home to you both,” He says, and it’s never sounded more true. “Did you know she’d...” He clears his throat unable to continue. Marc chuckles softly.

“She might have asked if you’d mind.”

“I-” He laughs, giddy and overwhelmed.

“Pull yourself together, darling, the whole squad’s going to see you crying.”

“They can piss off,” He barks hoarsely. “I’ll bawl if I please. Our daughter-” Devrim shakes his head, looking so unbelievably pleased. “She’s perfect. I love her. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Marc tips his chin up. “Go on then, brag to the them. I know you want to.”

Devrim smirks. “Right you are. I’ll be home soon.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Marc says before they disconnect, “Daddy.”

Marc is willing to bet his husband will still be grinning from ear to ear when they pick him up at the end of the week. But until then, he’s got a little girl to give a bath and a bedtime story to read. Such is the life of a dad.

[tearasshouse]

Mostly vidya ramblings pt 3C

Previous post here.

Right, software time. A cursory glance at my PSN Profile will show that I’ve met my personal quota of getting the platinum in at least 10 PlayStation titles over the year, with a few PC titles sprinkled in for good measure since hey, I have access to a Windows machine again (though it’s not exactly a games machine, unless your definition of a “gaming rig” is something with a 15W Core i3 and modest laptop Radeon graphics). While I didn’t start out meaning to rank these games, I find I have a tendency to do so anyway and while I’m certainly not saying these games are outright bad, they were absolutely lower on the rung, so I’ve dubbed this part “C” (again, no disrespect to the devs or any who rate these games higher than I do; these are just my personal assessments). These are OK games.

The Darkness 2 (Steam)

Enjoyable, somewhat! I put this down like, ages ago when I picked it up for a song on PC, feeling it was too basic and uh “console shootery” at the time. Often times, having restrictions placed upon something can net great results, and hamstrung as I am by my less-capable hardware, I’ve only been picking up Steam games that could run on lower end hardware, or anything released prior to say, 2015. Surprisingly this runs at something stupid like 200 FPS on my machine with V-Sync off and all settings on High at 1080p, so go figure. Anyway, it’s a short and enjoyable shooter. I don’t know anything about the comics upon which the game(s) are based, but Jackie is a likeable character, the Darkness powers are fun enough, the locations are varied, the supporting cast surprisingly interesting and the plot was actually pretty cool too, with a major sequel hook that we’ll probably never get. 

Ori & The Blind Forest (Steam)

It sorta hovers a bit below 60fps while running at 1080p, but it’s all just a bit reductive when one spends more time looking at the framerate counter than playing a game, no? The blessing and curse of PC gaming I suppose. Anyway, as a Metroidvania the game is a bit annoying. As a piece of interactive fiction, it’s too saccharine and feels like a B-tier Dreamworks production for children which, I suppose shouldn’t be a knock against the game but I have to say --  wasn’t my cup of tea. Reminds me a bit of Child of Light by Ubisoft -- gorgeous to look at, benign if not frustrating to play (those escape sequences can piss off), and young gamers would probably find more to like in the...emotional tidbits than most adults.

Crysis 2 (Steam)

So apparently this got delisted off Steam but now it’s back up or something with EA deciding to put their back catalog on the platform or something? Anyway, like this list implies, Crysis 2 is an okay game, nothing more and nothing less. The nanosuit energy depletes a bit too quick for my liking, and you’re really made to feel like a badass only some of the times, in quick and short bursts, not unlike BJ in the new Wolfenstein games by MachineGames (any more prolonged exposure to hitscan weapons and other bullshit will quickly send you to the loading screen). Thing is, I don’t want to feel like a badass only some of the time? I mean, you put a ripped supersoldier type doing the Badass Looking Back At the Viewer Pose on the cover and I expect to be able to do certain things without stopping for a breather every 20 seconds, ya know? If you’re going to give me the power fantasy, commit to it. Or, find ways to keep the flow up and reward mastery to make players earn said fantasy (something the new DOOMs  have done and why those have been so successful). I certainly don’t envy game devs for having to balance this shit, but id Software showed you one way of how you might do that while the Crysis games and those of their ilk just feel slow and unrewarding. 

Quantum Break (Steam)

Really surprised I was able to get this running on my PC but hey, it runs on the Xbox One so how hard could it be? I dearly love Remedy’s games, even if they’re a bit straightforward at times and you get the feeling they’d rather be in the business of non-interactive fiction than games making at times. Well here is a TV show hybrid! Made exclusively in partnership with Microsoft as part of their TV & STREAMING, TV & STREAMING, SPORTS & STREAMING strategy of the 2010s. I didn’t care for the plot, nor the endless email / audiobook / loredumps scattered around, nor the characters, any of it. I will say the final stage with the super high tech offices was a delight (boy wouldn’t I love to live the corpo life in such beautiful, clean office environs). Lance Reddick was a treat as always. Peter “Littlefinger” Baelish shows up to do a thing. Yeah, it’s a Remedy joint through and through. 2019′s Control was such a highlight for me that I’ll take any kind of prototype-y take on it (and QB certainly feels like a rougher, worse version of Control, at least mechanically).

Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs / Dear Esther: Landmark Edition (Steam)

These titles were certainly...things that I installed onto my PC and sat through... Yes. Look, I’m not one to dog on walking simulators, and I know the devs have faced tough times recently but I still feel these are acquired tastes and could be appreciably improved in too many ways to name. Of the two, Dear Esther is the one I’d rec because at least that one was quite pleasant to meander around in while Amnesia left me disappointed that I’d wasted my time, physically sick with its subpar performance and muddy graphics, flaccid with its stodgy plot and left absolutely disappointed that I’d wasted my time on such a bizarre and confusing payoff towards the end. Chinese Room, I mean this in the most constructive way possible: maybe try a different type of game next time.

Return to Castle Wolfenstein (GOG)

I remember putting in some decent time into the DEMO version of RtCW’s MP mode, being amazed at the time by the particle effects, with child-me just running around the D-Day map with the flamethrower out. Anyway, years later and I finally played the SP campaign. It’s maybe better than Allied Assault’s? It feels more consistently entertaining anyway. Hell I think I like these boomer shooters better than MachineGames’ recent efforts (which isn’t saying a whole lot because I find those games just merely okay). I promise you I’m not just being a crotchety old fart.

Ys: Memories of Celceta (PS Vita)

I’d been playing through this over the spring on my Vita TV, before it bit the dust eventually and I’ve been meaning to go back and wrap up the cheevos. I was a bit lukewarm with Oath in Felghana (my first Ys), but could definitely see the appeal in the series, as boss rush games aren’t really my cup of tea (ie. it’s the journey and not the destination of say, a Souls game that is the meat for me). Definitely a game that would benefit from a 60fps refresh and cleaner graphics than what the Vita can provide. I’ve already got a copy of Ys 8 in shrink wrap and have my eyes set on emulating Ys Seven or grabbing the GOG version. A game where action is king and story or character development is secondary; I would prefer more of the latter to make this more of a JRPG and less of a “predominantly Japanese action game with superficial RPG elements”.

Catherine: Full Body (PS4)

I paid $70 for this on day one and I’ve gotta say... should’ve waited for the price drop. I’m a somewhat lapsed Atlus mark, and I still hold the original Persona 5 as my no. 1 in the PS4′s lineup (with Dragon Quest XI possibly being a tie), yet I bought this knowing it wouldn’t really be for me. Why? High difficulty in a genre I don’t play, like at all, a relatively short clear time (in itself not an issue and frankly welcome these days HOWEVER...), and a somewhat unsatisfying payoff despite being a supernatural romance thriller. I bought this as seed money for Atlus’s P.Studio/Studio Zero, in the hopes that Project Re: Fantasy will knock my socks off just like the latter day Persona games have. Because in spite of the contents not really appealing to me, it’s still supremely well made, and it’s not everyday that games like these get made, so there you go. Look, if I could go back in time and put this money towards 13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim, I probably would, but then the Catherine steelbook is ever so pretty... 

Tearaway Unfolded (PS4)

The OG game is one of the most charming little 3D platformer/collect-a-thons out there, and as far as children’s games (or er, “games that also appeal to children”) go, more of these and less of those please (your Child of Lights and Oris). I’d go as far as to say the OG version is better than the PS4 version, though the PS4 version is also quite good. Really, if I wasn’t going for that stupid Misplaced Gopher trophy, this would probably be an easy shoe-in for the B-tier list, but I place this demotion firmly at Media.Molecule’s feet. That cheevo is cursed.

The Missing: JJ Macfield and the Island of Memories (PS4)

I’d almost forgotten about this! If that doesn’t qualify for making the C-tier list then I don’t know what else does. I only know of Swery65′s qualities through osmosis, having watched the 2BF’s legendary LP of Deadly Premonition and the gone-too-soon D4: Dark Dreams Don’t Die. He’s an interesting person with interesting ideas but crucially, as a game dev, his output is just... kinda mediocre? If not outright bad? Case in point with this game. It looks and runs like garbo; it plays like garbo; the character designs are cute; the dialogue is pretty good; there is a wonderful and gradual “twist” to the main character that was super spoiled for me when people were discussing and promoting it (like, that is my bad, but also internet discourse on any kind of entertainment media is just *fucked*); there’s a lot of semi-colons in this sentence so I’ll stop here. 

And the balls to charge like, what, $40+ for the game on PSN?? I’d gotten it for way less on a sale but in a day and age when $1 could buy you 3 months of Xbox Game Pass Ultimate and MS might also throw in a curio like this in there just to fill in the gaps, it makes you wonder if these kinds of games can ever turn a profit, especially when the end product is this jank. And these are commercial goods, make no mistake, any aspirations to being an art piece or social critique notwithstanding, so that also brings to the fore the whole aspect of pricing games, relative value, production and marketing costs, blah blah.

IF you like something different, can appreciate games made on a shoestring budget with arguably bad gameplay and technical deficiencies, but has...heart? Then look no further to the output of this man. The most C-worthy of all the titles listed here. 

[redphienix]

I fucked up, read more:

I can hardly say for sure whether Kris knows or doesn't when it comes to us, so my entire consideration is built a step beyond that argument on "Assuming they DO- Here's a thought" and I appreciate the step back to consider if they have any clue at all because in that situation perhaps they merely feel 'compelled' by us, and in that case I bet they are just as freaked about the Knight's influence as we are!

Because my thoughts come with a caveat of "You know, if" then I can't really re-compose my thought around them not knowing- it honestly just stops mattering in that context lol :P

The only thing I can add to THAT discussion without diving headfirst into 10 years of meta discussion is "I don't THINK Kris is aware of the game aspect at all, unlike some UT characters. My presumption built upon nothing is that they might be aware of a presence of mind- maybe assuming us a coping mechanism or just accepting the lived-fantasy of having someone else guide them".

I really can't wait to find out more about this world and finding out if anyone can fully see beyond the scope of their world to ours again.

I will say Sans!deltarune did pretty succinctly prove a level of awareness (beyond jokes) in my run. Since my save is from ch1 release, during the post game victory lap when I asked him about his brother he said "That'll have to wait until later. What's a day ... or another two years, I mean who's counting?" which is a direct reference to our world and the game development which, you know, could just be an easter egg- but it's Sans.

It's sans, it's intentional, 99% chance which means all his gags about 'not knowing us' 'first meeting' etc etc, and the fact that a lot of characters started out with seemingly different relationships (which are slowly evolving into what we expected from UT) SANS on the other hand started the game already joking about our mom and immediately hitting it off just as we expect.

So everyone else seem to be copies, and sans really does just seem to be sans- transferred over and adjusting to this world because he's sans and he's experienced so much that he probably woke up in delta and went "huh, might as well happen, right? Wonder if I can impress Toriel again"

Anyways.

@ flowey talk, AMEN.

Gaster really is the tcrf length of the Flowey 'wring it dry and empty' mentality. I like how you bring up soulsborne because my first thought was actually Team Ico fans.

People like nomad colossus, documenting every conceivable thing in the games, both in them, and not.

Reminds me that one iconic dev who I literally can't remember, hell it might have been behind shadow of the colossus, said they didn't understand the interest in behind the scenes cut content. "What's in the game is the final work, why ask about unfinished ideas?" (I believe they specifically quoted 'out of bounds content' such as low poly mountains) or something like that- seemingly misunderstanding that often our enjoyment of something can push us to know everything around it- knowing the cultures that brought it to being, the experiences that inspired it, the ideas that failed to meet the final piece either for lack of ability, money, cohesion, what have you.

To the dev it was like asking to bare witness to the paintbrush instead of viewing the painting, but that's kinda it, sometimes you love the painting so much you want to see the brush. You want to see where you sat while painting. We want to know what you heard as you created, what view sat around you. Sometimes we become enamored in the final piece so much that we want to vicariously build that piece ourselves by understanding all the blocks that came together to build it.

Blemishes and all.

And I'll fully admit, gaster ain't a character I care too much on because he's so... lacking presence. But he brings concepts I DO care about with him, like that.

Flowey is the one I more readily enjoy because his folly comes at me from multiple angles.

There's the character itself, obviously I love him, want to make that boy happy (flowey rather than Asriel, OBVIOUSLY Azz, help that goat, but talking Flowey as an individual as bizarre a concept as that can be).

But more importantly there's the "sentient AI grows aware and alive and struggles in ways a life should never struggle" which is a theme that tears my fuckin' heart apart and he fits the bill living in a 'game'.

And also the thing you said about Flowey symbolizing excessive exposure to the point of things losing meaning. It's part of the last thing I just said, but just in general that's another incredible concept.

A story can mean the world to you, but going to such extremes to absorb it again and again can really remove that wonder and appreciation. Now, I personally believe this doesn't have to be permanent, but I've also not endured the experience all that much and there's literally no way for me to endure it to the extreme as a character like Flowey can experience it:

But my belief does feel justified by some of the true end of UT, where yes, you can become desensitized, but sometimes being reminded of what you loved can help bring that spark back a bit.

But I subscribe to the belief that after UT true end, flowey is given a better life. Regardless of the format of that life as either flowey or azz or what have you.

Anyway, I haven't played UT in ages, as much love as it holds in my heart, I won't half remember EVERYTHING as I ramble.

On Chara, drat if that isn't a sad drain to hear on. My solo run went the same yet my experience didn't end as drained. I find those ridiculous runs to create their own story that somehow breaks the rules of what we went on about Flowey- where Flowey experienced the same things over and over and things lost meaning- ironically Chara mentality gives games a whole new identity-

Which is apt and now I feel a kind of way about what I just said lol.

Because that's kinda the point of Chara. Break the game and it loses meaning.

Oof, lol.

But yeah, destroying a game from the inside by overpowering things can remove agency and make the characters and narrative feel moot, and yet it's something a lot of us willingly engage in- for better or worse.

I find better in my experiences with it, but hey, chara is there for a reason, and your experiences mirror that loss of purpose pretty damningly. I like that. sorry to say, lol.

On to Noelle:

I've only watched the playthrough, but I read clearly throughout. You're assumption that it has less to do with Kris and more with her is spot-on.

It's funny, because it's almost the same as how I assume he made no mercy, but with a different outcome.

And this is me reading sideways and wrongside up but:

I look at no-mercy and think:

He thought "someone will want to, but why" answered that, then made characters for the route to help sell that idea. He didn't jump the gun and go "Must mean player is a bad person" and that's why the no mercy dialogue and identity stands out from a lot of other 'evil' runs in games.

It is full of guilt and shame, but it's not glorifying the violence of a compassion-less play- it's exploring why and thinking about that instead.

It's not really "Player indulges being evil" it's framed as "Player explores game thoroughly. Even when they don't want to. Why?"

The end goal of no mercy feels like a question of "What does this tell us about the player?" and lead to lines like explaining that we just wanted to see things differently, to have a unique experience, to be thorough- even if that meant being heartless.

The question of no-mercy is to look at the player, and build characters to show different angles of that player. Not to demonize, even though lord does a no-mercy run make me feel like shit- I can't do it, I simply won't lol. Just to explain that motivation in a clean space. I guess. I'm not well read on UT.

Noelle's route isn't exactly like that? Kinda? This might get dark... ish.

Like it has the same starting motivation of "Player wants to see what happens, why?" and Toby answering himself and then framing the gameplay around that. But instead of emphasizing the player, he emphasizes Noelle.

"Player wants Noelle stronger. Why?" To win easier.

"Well, that's not all that interesting to devote time to since I got a more interesting question out of no mercy in UT." True.

"... If Player wants Noelle stronger... How would Noelle react?" I might be onto something, that annoying dog said to himself.

"How would Player encourage Noelle to act in ways that make her stronger?" Oh this is pre-emptively hurting to think about, they are going to hate/love this.

"What can we learn about Noelle from this?" Oh buddy I'm onto something.

"What can we learn about someone who would do this to Noelle?" Am I circling back on the player, or circling back on abusive relationships as a whole (it's the latter)?

And then he made her route. Instead of the goal being to ask about the player exclusively while hiding it behind 'you're learning about the characters!', it's about Noelle, which ends up turning it into a lesson on abusive relationships beyond the scope of just player/kris/noelle and it's quite something.

No Mercy was trying to say we weren't a monster for wanting to explore, but also it feels bad, but here's why. Learn up. You went and interacted with fiction in an interesting way that involves simultaneously respecting and not caring- here's a potential reason you did it, feel some things.

Noelle's route is trying to say 'A good person can be manipulated to do bad things if someone they trust takes advantage of that trust.'

It's not exactly about us, but in order to learn the lesson you have to become involved. Just like no-mercy, you have to find some motivation to explore in a way that dehumanizes the characters- in an effort to learn or see more of these characters.

So you distance yourself in a way that allows you to commit actions you wouldn't usually, just like no mercy.

Dehumanize her a bit, force her, place yourself as an authority to her, demand from her. Be like the worst things she's experienced, you know, for her own good. For the xp, for the quick puzzles, for the easy fights- for her.

It's an immensely uncomfortable route in my opinion, and it's because I keep drawing parallels to abusive relationships. And that's a lot different than no mercy, but it feels like it's born from the same writing process of asking questions about the player and trying to offer a respectful answer instead of the knee-jerk one.

As all that above would imply, I don't think our actions in snowgrave are Kris. I think it's an alternative take on the no-mercy idea.

The actions are ours. And the reason for them is our interest in seeing the game do all it can do- to explore every possibility.

And the lesson isn't about the existence of such meta-gameplay motivations anymore because UT already taught us that.

It's about something slightly less meta-narrative involved and more narrative involved as it takes 'us' into the game narrative without making a fuss about talking about the player.

No mercy touched on the in-game consequences of our actions, often across swathes of characters or changing how a boss reacts with some knowing a player is involved.

But snowgrave? In snowgrave the meta-narrative might as well be a meta meta narrative and I know that's a thing fuck off I'm being an idiot on the internet:

In snowgrave it feels a lot more like "The player's actions affect a character, let's focus on the in-game narrative of that, the meta is empty, and the meta-meta is that this is about abusive relationships"

All to say I don't think the intention is that it's Kris, I'm pretty sure that part of it is still implying "This is the part where you do the bad thing as a player, IE: Frisk didn't do it."

That said, your mention on the dialogue options is interesting to think on- I already assumed that that might be a layer of how Kris knows we're involved- as if they are shouting options our way and we choose for them so they take less responsibility- but I hadn't considered the concept of the snowgrave options.

To be honest, it holds water and I fucking love it. holy fuck that has chara levels of "we corrupted them" but with Kris instead of chara hear me out:

The snowgrave dialogue 9/10 times are very 'short' almost pained orders.

At many moments in the snowgrave route there would be 1 "Maybe this is the wrong thing to do, I don't feel comfortable with it / Sorry I meant nothing by it / Let's move on from this" type option and 1 "Do it." option.

The way the "Proceed" options come forth is less optimistic than anything in the main route, it's robotic, defeated, empty.

It almost feels like Kris sees what we're pushing her to do in combat and is giving in, they are trusting us just as much as Noelle is. They are giving in just as much as she is.

I know you point out that snowgrave Kris isn't as "different" as you'd expect, but honestly, I kinda think they are! Not to discredit, rather to shout my nonsense because you just sparked a blast of an idea outta me.

Normal Kris has nothing but amusing things to say, or nervous silence often in situations where they are forced to choose between friends.

Snowgrave Kris is almost exclusively "Please let's get back to the fun stuff, this feels bad I made a mistake" and "... I give up. Proceed. You know best."

KRIS IS IN THE SAME BOAT AS FUCKING NOELLE DURING THE SNOWGRAVE ROUTE WHAT THE FUCK THAT HURTS EVEN MORE I HATE THAT!!!!!

Incredible I love it.

Again, you're read could be more right as fuck, you clearly remember more of UT than I do and you did just replay all of Delta if I read that right, I'm just realizing a new understanding that stands firm with my experiences with the game and I'm loving it (and hate it).

Despite having said I think the dialogue options are Kris' choice and we choose between them- I hadn't thought of that in the context of snowgrave and FUCK now it hurts because now I think it really is another layer of us adopting the worst persona to explore the game, and not only did it result in us putting Noelle through hell, but we MADE Kris DO THAT. And they, similarly to Noelle, TRUSTED US and fell into their role in the abusive relationship. FUCK MAN.

ANYWAY.

On Ralsei I agree with you actually entirely, but I want to dispute for the sake of it because there are some threads that make the stance I share with you to be flimsy:

Susie DOES react strangely to seeing Ralsei, she just shuts up about it and deflects (as usual) with 'I liked seeing less of you'. This could be nothing, but it's arguably a thread that she recognizes the similarity.

Noelle, arguably, didn't even pay attention because every situation she had a chance to look closely at Ralsei she was enamored with Susie- even going so far as to switch places in our lineup so she could stare at Susie instead of Ralsei.

I don't even think she learned his name even as Ralsei explained why the fountains needed closing- so genuinely, a potential loop hole close to the plot hole of not recognizing him (beyond 4th wall breaking) is literally "she was girl crazy at the time" lol.

I do think Ralsei will be a 4th wall... maybe not breaker, but understander- someone who knows there is a player and a game perhaps, but not being able to see beyond the scope of their world. That's built from a lot of little moments tbh, doesn't matter.

God your last para on the secret bosses and the like just has me more hyped for more deltarune stuff. I got nothing more to add, I accidentally fucked up and rambled again as is, thank you for the tinder for the fire lol.

Exceptional fucking reads on both games, man.

Quick revision bit to my thoughts on post Chapter 2 Kris thanks to some thoughts and facts I had forgotten shared by @gamesception

The original talking point and gamesception's additions will be easily found in the reply box of this post. I had some fun assumptions but they don't hold water with his additions and I wanted to clearly state some new thoughts instead.

So I really enjoyed the concept of our relationship to Kris being a complex issue with pros and cons, wherein Kris truly does enjoy the decisions we are making and the friends we are accumulating, but they are becoming increasingly distraught at the fact that they are becoming a player 2 in their own lives and so they lash out at the end of each chapter both to prolong this game (more friends) and release their frustration at us for becoming the 'better Kris'.

That's bullshit, it was a fun idea though. Bull because of things like "Chara wasn't Frisk, why would this enraged inhuman version of Kris be Kris?" and the fact we already have a name dropped foe who is responsible for the fountains which we witnessed Kris' body creating: The knight.

tl;dr it's pretty likely Kris is possessed not just by us, but by the knight, Sception did a good write on that in response to my OG post, read that one instead.

So my question remains, what does Kris think of our relationship?

Do they like what we are doing, and are there any less than amicable feelings as well (likely related to the fact we are controlling them).

And to be blunt, I think so. To both.

But not as in "Kris is building resentment for us doing all the things they weren't able to / is thankful for the help in doing what they weren't able to do" as I initially thought, and that's good!

But in an arguably more terrifying way- for Kris and for the empathy we hold towards Kris.

Because after considering that the outbursts at the end of each chapter were The Knight asserting dominance to push their agenda, instead of being Kris building up to bursting with their emotions and needing to lash out, I lost a lot of the 'evidence' I had towards our relationship being anything more than positive or at least neutral.

But then I considered the post-secret-boss dialogue for chapter 2.

After defeating the boss you're given a moment where Kris shouts our responses loudly in a manner that startles our friends, all while standing stiff- covered in goosebumps- a very emotional reaction that we (the player) can't enact.

And this comes from the discussions and visuals of said boss: of an enemy puppeteered along and wanting to be free, only for freedom from their threads to mean their demise.

That ONE moment is the closest we can get to Kris' reaction to us.

And that reaction doesn't really support my initial read of Kris seeing us as a complex assistant, someone they could arguably be thankful for while also being enraged against as we take over.

No.

That action supports a sadder potential. Where Kris perhaps truly does enjoy our assistance, as this shows they COULD react and influence our decisions (at least under sufficient distress), but this moment showed them a potentially terrifying end to our intervention.

What happens when we stop helping them?

It might not be so cut and dry as the grisly end the secret boss experienced, but the idea remains: What happens to Kris when we stop playing?

Do they keep their friends?

Will they live up to the expectations we've built for them?

What if they crumble under the pressure?

What if they return to obscurity?

Who are they, once this is all said and done?

And so to paraphrase what I said in the original post:

Just as Susie, Noelle, and Berdly confronted their option to allow the dark worlds to persist, Kris potentially mirrors part of this with wanting to remain with the player's influence.

Susie, Noelle, and Berdly all asked themselves:

"Isn't this a better place than going back to confront the consequences and struggles of home?"

And all agreed that it was, until Ralsei explained that hiding away in the dark world wouldn't make the consequences go away, they would grow into a far worse fate.

"That moment for them was the first steps in hopefully seeing that confronting their struggles head on in the real world is what will be best for them- that hiding sounds good at first, that it IS good for a time and can be an important part of building that courage, but if they just accept the hiding place then things will fall apart around them."

Our friends were told a grim truth, and are potentially on the right path to face their struggles head-on. Not yet, not fully, but a little at a time.

But Kris has been along for the ride so far, regardless of how much they might enjoy the dark world, they haven't made a direct statement on their enjoyment of it- in a way they aren't willingly hiding here from real world problems, they are a passenger.

But they still have struggles and worries to confront.

They still have to wonder what happens when they are put in the driver seat.

And maybe that's absolutely terrifying for them.

[mutualdarknessff-blog]

C8 - Brothers Bond

Song: Die For You by The Weeknd

Navaya

There was an eerie silence while I sat at the dining room table, Mali and Trent off in the next living room watching TV. I had told them that I just needed some time to think about what had happened in the past twenty four hours. Blurred and foggy visions is what I remembered mostly after fainting from my uncles appearance at Mali’s house. Yells of pain in an agonizing scream is what I remembered. Something way more darker than what I have ever seen and it all linked in my mind to one person. I stared down at my plate of food; corn, rice with sautéed chicken and asparagus. Instantly hearing him walk into the dining area, I looked up into those dark eyes.

“Jason said you wanted to see me.” Dev spoke across the table in all black. There was a certain gentleness to his stare on me, different than ever before. Like he was relieved he had saved my life, I was grateful. I don’t know if he sensed the fire between Jason and Mali but I could. Earlier when Jason looked me over to make sure that whatever Dev did with his blood had been right, I could feel the tension between him and Mali. I wish they would just talk out their problems but then again knew how stubborn Mali was. Jason probably was the same way but only time would tell.

“Is there somewhere we can talk without supernatural ears hearing?” I asked him tapping my fingers on the mahogany wood where my dinner laid.

Looking me over once before crossing his arms over his muscular chest he nodded, “Sure.”

Standing out of my chair, I felt so different. My body no type of ache to it. Anxiety was the last thing in my mind and I somewhat felt confident. Somewhere inside me I had a feeling it was the fact that I had his blood inside me. Dev let me walk past him out the dining room not to be seen until we were in a completely different part of the mansion. He switched on a light showing a beautiful decorated dining room, one that looked like it hadn’t been walked in for years. The grand chandelier shined brightly in the large room. It was quiet except for the clicking of an ancient looking standing clock. Almost identical to the types of clocks that batman would walk through to get to his bat cave. Dev stood eyeing me patiently, while leaning against the back of a white and gold designed couch that looked really expensive.

“Thank you for what you did for me, but. First I want to ask you, why if your blood can heal me from the wounds I suffered of my uncle; it can’t heal Julius?” I asked lowly staring into his deep brown eyes. Turning his bottom lip up slowly at my question he squinted his eyes.

“Wow.” Dev laugh briefly looking surprised at me.

“What?” I was unsure what was so funny.

“You wake up finally after getting back from that hell hole, being beaten to a bloody pulp and the first thing you care about is someone else.” He stared at me with his statement.

“I’m healed and used to being beaten it’s normal.” I shrugged, “Can you answer my question now please.”

Dev looked away with a nod licking over his top lip slowly, “I would have to give Julius a larger amount of my blood and it can be deadly for him.”

“But you said only a bite would be fatal.” I reminded him.

“No, I told you a bite would be fatal. I never told you how creating a vampire works. If I gave him the amount that I gave to heal you he would have to do that every single day so it would outlast his disease, you only had bruising and minor sprains, big difference.” He explained with a squint in his eyes.

“So your blood in my system will eventually be out of my system?” I asked looking down at the palms of my hands.

“Yeah but for now in the next hour you may feel your senses heightened, also your libido intensified.” He told me.

“Okay. I just find it crazy how you can’t treat a humans disease with just one drop.” I commented.

“Yes, and for the last time I cannot save Julius of his disease. Accept it as he had Navaya, it will be much better for you.” Dev warned, I looked up to see him staring out a window.

“Okay, I won’t talk to you about it anymore, but there’s something else.” I breathed staring him down. He awaited my words turning his head to the side at me.

“I saw, you in visions doing something that like looked sacrificial. Is that normal when a vampire gives a human their blood?” I asked him. Walking around the couch slowly Dev looked confused at me.

Stopping a few feet in front of me he leaned forward as he put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, “What did you see?”

His nose was almost touching mine that’s how close he was in front of me, I stopped breathing. Not because he scared me but only the fact that Dev was a gorgeous being. I’m sure being a vampire probably amplified his looks. It made me curious sometimes just how much more delicious Julius would evolve into, because immortality did wonders for Trent. Realizing how close he was to me, Dev stood back only a foot waiting for me to answer.

“A dark blue blade going into your chest, slowly.” I whimpered lowly looking away from his dark eyes. The reminiscing of the vision just made me feel guilty that I had it in the first place. Dev was quiet with his eyes closed I stared at his face, how stubbles on his chin began to grow. It was different being able to see how his hair actually still grew out like he was human. I followed every trace of his face and how angular it was. His cologne that he had on was invading my nostrils with every breath and intoxicated my senses.

“Jason isn’t going to like this.” He muttered to himself slowly opening his eyes, looking down at me.

“Like what?” I blinked up at him in confusion.

“Come with me now.” He ordered walking out of the dining area we were in, reaching for the light switch. It was darkness again as I kept up behind him watching how he walked. Shaking my head I got the possibility of finding Dev attractive out of my head, knowing it was a bad idea.

***

Mali

“What the fuck you mean she saw visions!” Jason yelled from the inside of his office. Navaya stood beside me leaning against the bannister that was opposite of Jason’s door. I looked over her while she tried to listen on what was going on.

“Stop fucking yelling at me Jay,” We lowly heard Dev reply back like he was trying to keep his temper cool, “Its part of the damn prophecy nothing you do will stop it.”

On my right side peripheral vision past Navaya, I saw Trent walking down the hall towards us. His face with a glum look with eyes switching back and forth between us. Navaya gave him a quick hug as I did as he began to look Navaya over weirdly.

He rubbed down the side of her right arm, “So you both know everything now.”

“Know what?” I asked with arms crossed leaning up off the bannister.

“About the-” Jason’s office door swung open quickly before he could finish his sentence.

“Mali can you please come inside please?” Jason asked with an authoritative tone only at me. I sized him before watching Dev walk out into the hall past everyone, with not a word or glance.

I shook my head at him, “What the hell is going on?!”

“Mali.” Jason sighed.

“Jason, what’s going on please we are all in this together.” Navaya pleaded.

“Trent.” Dev called once, Trent looked us over with a nod to Jason. Then he whooshed away behind Dev and they were gone. Navaya took my hand walking towards Jason’s office, we sat in the chairs where he first told us Vampires existed. If there was anymore than that I didn’t know what I was going to do. Here we was standing in front of me with that sexy smirk of authority on his face. Like he didn’t break off our passionate feelings towards each other.

“Daniel and Devs friends the twins; Micah and Alister, tonight along with other guests will bear witness to a ritual.” He began making me nod and Navaya stay silent.

“What type of ritual?” I challenged him. He put his eyes on me briefly, before looking away.

“It’s a very important renewing for Trent’s addition into the Lewis-Lockwood clan.” He told us.

“Is this ritual a sacrificial one?” Navaya asked, I looked over at her with scrunched eyebrows. Jason took a deep breath giving us an answer.

“Sacrifice, what is getting sacrificed?” I asked.

“Not why Mali, but whom.” Navaya spoke looking over at me like she knew something.

“Whom?” I breathed sitting up in my seat, “Not Trent please.”

Jason scoffed, “He can’t be sacrificed Mali, he’s an additional to the clan.”

“Then who?” I asked as calmly as I possibly could.

“Dev.” Navaya blurted surprising me.

“What?” Confused as hell my mind was running with no control. Navaya stood crossing her arms over her chest. Yeah I couldn’t stand him, but why did he have to die?

“Why?” Navaya asked coldly.

“Because if he doesn’t Trent will die.” Jason said point blank periiod making my heart drop

“In support of Trent I will be there, but I’m done with the fucking vampire blood,” She huffed looking from Jason to me, “Next time if there is a next time just let me heal normally please. I’ve seen enough.”

She walked out the office slamming the door behind her, leaving it very quiet in the office now, “I’m going to be there too just in case she freaks out.”

“Yeah.” Jason nodded leaning up off the front of his desk, I began to walk to the door to leave, “Mali wait.”

“Nope, I’m done waiting and playing your games.” I muttered but he ran towards the door before I could open it.

“Can you just listen for a second.” He asked blocking the doorway. I stood back from him, knowing if he touched me I would instantly cave.

“This has had me preoccupied and has stolen my attention from you that you deserve. Can we please just get through this ritual and I promise after I’m completely yours.” He declared for me with a softness in his eyes.

I scoffed shaking my head at him, “How do I know you’re not just going to say I don’t want you anymore?”

He took a step towards me, I took one back, “Have you seen me around any other females.”

“No, but just because I haven’t seen doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.” I pointed at him as he took another step in my direction, my feet moved back more. It started to be a moving game between us. I went past the chairs in front of his desk, knowing I was coming close to his desk.

“No other has touched me since you let me touch you.” He sensually responded in a soft tone. My butt hit his desk and I slid sideways as he kept coming closer knowing I would have nowhere to go once I came up against his walls.

“You have a great poker face Jason.” I chuckled with no humor, “Words are just words.”

With a small smile he stopped walking towards me and began to take off his chain, “You know another gift that the all knowing has is being able to show others things.”

“Really?” I asked raising an eyebrow at him. My body slowly felt the coolness of the far wall behind his desk. He gently placed his necklace on his desk while continuing coming towards me. Coming closer to my he put out one of his hands with his palm facing me.

“Yes really, "He nodded,” Touch my hand.“

Taking a sharp sigh, I raised my hand connecting it with his, "This better not be a trick.”

“Close your eyes.” He orderly softly as I smelled his cologne he had on, intoxicating me. Once my eyes were closed I saw everything since the first time we were intimate and what his mind had been on. From when he gets up in the morning to every personal thing he does as a routine. Including thinking about making me moan his name over and over again.

“Oh.” I gasped clamping my hand close tight around his and he did the same, placing our hands up against the wall. That was it, making me give in to him. He placed his face in the crook of my neck nibbling it softly before going for the button on my jeans. Once they were undone he slid his free hand gently into my panties to feel how undeniable moist I was from his visions he showed me.

“Uh.” I whimpered as he found my clit instantly pulling me into him. Moving over to his desk with ease, he hovered over me kissing my lips softly letting my hand go. May legs dangled while he leaned in between them. Going for my pants he swiftly pulled them down ripping them in the process.

“Jason.” I laughed as he slipped his shirt off he grabbed my wrists to feel down his torso. Going lower than ever past his happy trail, before I got to his manhood through his sweatpants. Using one of my hands he guided me inside the material to feel his soft yet hard and full nine inch length.

“Oh my,” I gasped.

“You want it?” He purred leaning down kissing my forehead, it laid on my stomach ready to penetrate my kitty.

“Yes.” I groaned in a reply. I heard him go into a side drawer of his desk finding whatever he was looking for. Placing a gold wrapper in his mouth he ripped it with pearly white teeth. Slipping on his glove he mounted me putting his face back in the crook of my neck directly on my hotspot. My hands scratched at his muscular back viscously as he entered me.

“Oh fuck, Jason.” I moaned loudly as he began to pump in and out of me swaying his hips. Wet sounds of how wet he had me I heard as he picked up the pace.

“Mine.” He groaned with a moan kissing my lips passionately, “Something for you to look forward to love.”

***

Navaya

I gripped tight to Mali’s hand while we sat in what looked like a miniature carnival stadium. Daniel stood behind a stage that sat in the middle of the center floor. In front of him was a pulpit, I never saw Trent of Jason in the stands that went around the room in a circle. It was dim though with only one huge light on center focus of the stage. Instantly cloaked figures began to walk in filling the stands, and Trent walked out into the main floor with the cloak of his hood off down. The entire room was filled immediately with not one empty seat in the area. My heart pounded as I gripped on to Mali’s hand tighter. A different shade colored cloaked figure walk out on to the main floor, a royal blue color. Trent stepped to the hooded figure removing the cloak. Shirtless before him in black dress pants, Dev looked ahead at nothing. Every designed piece of ink he had tattooed on him was bare for everyone to see. With no shoes on he stepped up onto the stage while Trent stayed on the main floor, he placed Dev’s cloak to the ground. Dev knelt down to look into Trent face. He whispered something to him with a swift nod before standing back up. There were strings hanging on each side of Dev’s sides that he had two cloaked figures strap to his wrists. Analyzing his body I saw a dark spot on the right side of his chest, right over his heart. Trent opened the box he had showing a blue blade and the ritual began. At the moment I realized Trent was the one to put the blade through Dev’s chest. Shaking with every minute even after seeing everything for a second time I couldn’t get the dead look of Dev’s beautiful brown eyes that shined every now and then out my head. It made me wonder if Mali didn’t hate him anymore. We sat in my bedroom with a thirty-two ounce bottle of hennessy. I held on to my shot glass while Mali just stared out the window, silence being her only way to cope with witnessing the execution of a person. Not a hundred twenty one vampire, but a person. Everything was set up already for there to be no question about him not being here anymore. It shook my core, because I knew the one person who was suffering more than anyone was Trent. His head laid in my lap in taking in that his uncle was gone. Silence filled the room on the late saturday night. More intense than the last weekend.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE FOUNDER CONTROL

If you can summon up the activation energy to start a startup when they meet people who've done it and realize they could too. When I said at the start that our filters let through less than 5 per 1000 spams, with 0 false positives, I'm talking about filtering my mail based on the branch instruction in the underlying hardware, parallelism will be something that is available if you ask for it explicitly, but ordinarily not used. People sometimes send me mail saying, How can you implement flow charts without gotos? So why not let the founders sell a little stock early would generally be better for the company, because it doesn't feel like procrastination. In the middle of the century our two big forces intersect, in the original sense, is something you write to try to think How can I write this such that if people saw my code, they'd be no worse than going to visit your in-laws. Before ITA who wrote the software inside Orbitz, the people running the networks will take the easy route and try to keep the peace. One founder said explicitly that the relationship between cofounders is more intense than it usually is between coworkers, so is the relationship between founders was more important in choosing cofounders. I wrote that paragraph, instead of going to some office and doing what you're told. If you ask at that age, I spent a lot of these accidents, and they don't even get to choose which.

To what extent were computers a precondition? Plus making them is more fun. ITunes makes money by taxing people, not selling them stuff. That's one reason the movie business will dry up, and the number one thing they mentioned was curiosity. Not so bad, the kids adopt an attitude of waiting for college. But mostly you won't see anyone; bustling is the last word on work, however. And once started this process spreads through the whole economy, because at the beginnings of people's careers they can easily switch not merely employers but industries. There are some sterling exceptions, but as the corpus grows such tuning will happen automatically anyway. The good news is, all you have to resign yourself to everything taking longer than it should. Which is of course a recipe for recognizing them. But think about what's going on is that the inhabitants still speak many different languages.

The reason you look like a dork. Admissions to PhD programs in the hard sciences are fairly honest, for example, what would happen if the government decided to commission someone to write an official Great American Novel. And by next, I mean the structure of business doesn't reflect it. But remember that we already have almost fifty years of history behind us. Or at least you won't know what it means, or how many procedures you establish to ensure quality. Partly because the unions were monopolies. Starting a startup will change you a lot. Not just that he'd be annoying, but that there be few of them.

The reasons parents don't want their teenage kids have sex—indeed, where it's normal for 14 year olds to become mothers. In 1994 my friend Koling wanted to talk to corp dev. The big media companies shouldn't worry that people will exploit the difference to the point where much of what you're measuring is artifacts of the fakeness. I wrote something that seemed suitable for a magazine, so I sat down and thought about what they have in common is that they're bad at judging you, you have a hell of a coincidence to explain. Along with interesting problems, but deciding what problems to solve. And what do you learn about the world would be if the silicon valley were not merely closer to the wind as you can compete with delegation by working on larger vertical slices, you can manufacture them by taking any project usually done by multiple people and trying to do it yourself. A lot of the serendipity out of his light and two thousand years later in Feynman breaking into safes at Los Alamos. And this too tended to produce both social and economic cohesion. Some errands, like replying to letters, go away if you ignore them perhaps taking friends with them.

Every designer's ears perk up at the mention of that game, because it's followed immediately by less hackable tests. You have two choices: give it away and make money from concerts and t-shirts. As a standard, you couldn't wish for more. And yet a lot of time. Though she'd heard a lot about startups. 9075001 quality 0. To mislead someone so grossly about the world would seem not protection but abuse. Incidentally, this scale might be helpful in deciding what to do as you're doing it, not a subordinate executing the vision of his boss.

Einstein: Through the reading of popular scientific books I soon reached the conviction that much in the stories of the Bible could not be true. There are probably a lot of the change I've seen is fragmentation. If your work requires you to talk to corp dev. Jerry didn't seem to harm us. In that case, stay on a main branch becomes more than a mediocre local maximum: When someone is determined, there's still a danger that they'll follow a long, hard path that ultimately leads nowhere. You have to work on a large scale. The more ambitious merely hoped to climb the corporate ladder was still very much alive. Version 2 was higher resolution: there were more companies, of more different sizes, making more different things, and their relationships changed faster. The cost of an interruption is not just that the axioms be well chosen, but that it is, in the unlikely absence of any other evidence, have a consistent bias: they take politics seriously.

They show us what real work looks like. Wozniak's work was a classic example: he did everything himself, hardware and software, and the visual arts is the resistance of the plate. But the next step after rent a cool office, hire a bunch of people is: gradually realize how completely fucked they are, because while imitating all the outward forms of a startup as a giant experiment. I didn't realize how much of a threat—that curiosity was simply the first derivative of knowledge. When you do this you can assume larval startups will break most of them, we need to fix it. A friend of mine visiting India sprained her ankle falling down the steps in a railway station. But it should be. Except not quite: whatever would be least work if your ideas about programming weren't already influenced by the languages you're currently used to. What he was doing is now called VoIP, and it will take over your life to a degree you cannot imagine. I think you've left out just how fun it was: I think you've left out just how fun it is to buy companies, and they worry that they'll have less leverage over the founders if the founders have that first million, or at least, that means it deserves attention, however implausible it seems.

IBM's big mistake was to accept a non-exclusive license for DOS. For the first 100 years or so of its existence, it was very easy to understand and change. There is a positive side to thinking longer-term. There does seem to be any syntax for it. For consumers this new world meant the same choices everywhere, but only one step. How can you manipulate data without doing pointer arithmetic? Most of the best writers would be excluded for having offended one side or the other. This is particularly true with companies, who have nothing, would prefer a 100% chance of $1 million to a 20% chance of $10 million, while the VCs can afford to be rational and prefer the latter. One reason investors like you more when you've started to raise money is that they're not just standards.

Thanks to Geoff Ralston, Paul Buchheit, Bob Frankston, Jessica Livingston, Patrick Collison, and Trevor Blackwell for reading a previous draft.

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #14)

(cw: drug withdrawal, vomiting) <-Previous ----------

01/02/88  1:34 PM

Hey.

Can’t believe I’m still going to all the effort of writing this dramatic, emotional crap down while you’re not even here to be uncomfortable about it with me. This is so unnatural. But I keep coming back to it, so…

Showering felt good. I wasn’t too happy about smelling like Fix-it’s bath products, but clearing away the grime was therapeutic in its own small way, especially since my skin was smooth and intact again. No dirt, no blood, no wounds, no outward evidence that anything had happened to me at all. 

The feeling of cleanliness was tragically short-lived, however. I’d barely finished drying off before my skin clammed up and my body felt wrapped up in a hot, wet blanket. Boost withdrawal had snuck up on me, hiding behind other, much bigger stressors. Fix-it would soon regret lending me his disturbingly comfortable, silky, immaculately free-of-his-cousin’s-sweat pajamas.

I was in for a long night.

When I left the bathroom, I found Fix-it sitting on the couch next to a folded-up blanket and some pillows, looking thoughtful or troubled or something inexplicably annoying. He straightened up the second he saw me, and gave a wobbly sort of smile. “Did it do ya good to get clean?” he asked, painfully awkwardly.

I just grimaced, waist-deep in withdrawal, not loving the irony in his question.

I sat next to him, leaned my head back, and put a cold, wet hand towel that I’d nicked from the bathroom over my face. It relaxed me a bit, but relaxing wasn’t much of an improvement. My idle mind had no safe path to wander, no distraction other than my climbing fever. So I resorted to focusing on that, and let myself sink like a rock into that post-Boost depression. I needed a hit so badly. I just imagined that sweet electric rush dissolving the withdrawal, blowing away the fog over my senses, charging me back up with fierce courage so I could get back out there and face the arcade. Thinking about a remedy only made me feel sicker, but I didn’t care. More sickness meant more distractions from… other things. 

I was in for a really long night.

It wasn’t until Fix-it said “Mavy..?” that I realized he had been talking. Silently asking the Devs why he was still trying to have a conversation with me, I replied with a grunt.

Assumedly repeating himself, he said carefully, “I just wanted to say thank you… You know, for… trusting me.”

I figured he was kind of putting words in my mouth, but whatever. I was willingly staying in his home, so he wasn’t completely wrong. But I knew he really meant trusting him with… well, everything written on my body. To that, I did not know what to say. I lifted the corner of the cloth on my face to peer at him. He was giving me those earnest eyes again, the ones that his binary may as well tumble out of. I could almost feel the bags under my eyes getting heavier. It felt like anything I could have said would only have made me worse off.

After a sufficiently weird pause, I figured out what to say.

“Do you have a bucket?”

“...Beg pardon?”

“So I don’t puke on your floor.”

“Oh!”

He sprung up like a popcorn kernel, disappeared for a second, and returned with a gross-looking utility bucket, probably the only dirty thing I’d seen in his apartment thus far. It had definitely been used for paint at some point, of all things. Then, seemingly trying to top his personal best record for stupid questions, he asked if I was nauseous. I didn’t dignify it with a response. After that, he just insisted on brewing me some tea that I can’t remember the name of, because it would, as he put it, soothe my “tummy” and help me sleep.

I told him that if he said “tummy” again, I might miss the bucket.

While the tea steeped, we had some minor disagreements about the sleeping arrangement. He wanted to take the couch while I slept in his bed, but I was having none of that. The final verdict was that he’d take the bed, I’d take the couch, and if I somehow needed something that I couldn’t get myself, I could wake him up.

The tea was counterproductive. When I went to drink it, the mug didn’t even make it to my lips. I took one whiff of the scent -- not a bad one, but a scent nonetheless -- and my stomach lurched. I retched into the bucket not a moment later. Fix-it sprung up and practically started whining like an anxious dog. At the same time, though, he looked like he was fighting the urge to sympathy vomit. We had agreed on lights out just a moment ago, but he insisted that he must stay up with me for just a little while longer.

I groaned into the bucket in my lap, “To do what, read me a bedtime story?”

“...Well--”

“No.”

He gave up after that. At long last, he turned in for the night. He got me a glass of water, turned off the lights, and pretended to close the door behind him when he went into his room -- he left it cracked, for some reason I’d no doubt disagree with.

Once the lights were off, it really stood out to me just how wrong it felt spending the night inside Niceland again, after all these years. It was obscenely quiet, the only thing close to white noise being Wreck-it’s distant snoring. The windows didn’t need any blackout shutters like they would in your game, what with our game’s permanent night setting, but the cold, dim light from the cabinet’s screen around the corner was just enough to cast faint window-shaped squares on the floor. For most, it all probably would have been ideal for sleeping. But for me, it was too rigid. Too manufactured, sterile, too clean-cut. I needed mess. I needed a raw, wild, pass-out-drunk mess. Old pilled blankets, misshapen cushions, stained pillows, creaky springs in a mattress way too small for two sprites. If nothing else, I needed the stars. But you can’t see them from the windows of Niceland.

I thought of the places I wished I could be, threw up again, and began my really, really long night.

Most of the night felt like some kind of time loop, just the same awful crap for Devs know how many hours. Throwing up, washing out the bucket, sipping water, refilling water, refreshing the cold towel, burning up, shivering, throwing the blanket, bundling up in the blanket, throwing up again. Startling flashes of memory still kept me from drifting off, but it wasn’t just the fireworks anymore. There was also barking. There was that freak’s grating, screeching abuse. There was the garbled, distorted sound of metal splitting. Worst of all, the feeling of fading into sleep almost felt like fading into near-death again, kicking up that terrified, tooth-and-claw refusal to die. In those cases, I’d wake up screaming.

Freaked the hell out of Fix-it every time.

Something else happened that night. I have no idea what time it was. There was nothing left in me to throw up anymore. My teeth were chattering, but my sweat had still soaked well into the couch. I’d tossed away the warm and damp pillows in favor of resting my burning cheek against the cool cushion beneath. I was just trying desperately to creep past the obstacles between me and anything resembling rest. That’s when things got a little… let’s say “creative.”

I tried to fool myself into thinking I was somewhere more conducive to a good night’s sleep, and it worked. If I really thought about it, I could smell chips, popcorn, and Burger Time grease in the cushion under my head. I could make the upholstery feel frayed and slack. In my feverish delirium, I could even change the room around me. I could picture the walls pulled closer, and an impressive amount of junk for such a small space, all of which I knew by heart. There would be a stereo across from me, a kitchen counter down past my feet, half-full soda cans close to my head, empty six-pack rings hanging on the door handle, a jumpsuit thrown over the corner of the couch, and above me, a rack of meticulously polished trophies. As long as I kept my eyes closed, I was in your trailer. 

For those fleeting moments, everything felt normal again. It was as if nothing ever changed.

I heard your bed creak, and your footsteps shortly after. You paused close to me for a second before continuing into the kitchen. Jars rattled when you opened the fridge, a cupboard creaked as you looked for a glass that was actually clean, and I heard you pour something -- could only have been soda, in the middle of the night, you spectacular trainwreck. Then you crossed back to me, set your glass on a surface that shouldn’t have been there, and stopped moving. You just went quiet. So much that I thought you must have been plotting a way to mess with me in my sleep. I welcomed it, too. I couldn’t wait to catch you in the act and tackle you to the floor.

Then I heard, soft as a mouse, “Mavy?”

The illusion dissipated the moment Fix-it spoke. Reality struck again, landing a critical hit on that miserable withdrawal depression. It wasn’t you. It was just Fix-it, who had apparently come to get me a new glass of water. Part of me wanted to spring up and deck him, but I stayed perfectly still and silent. I didn’t want to encourage him to keep talking to me. In all honesty, I felt too heavy and lifeless to do anything at all.

“Mavy?” he said again. “Are you awake?”

Another stupid question. I just imagined that he wasn’t there, in hopes that it would come true. But, much to my regret, I heard him sit on the coffee table again. I could feel him looking at me. He was silent long enough for me to think that he had come out just to watch me sleep, like an absolute creepazoid. But just as I was bucking up the moxie to tell him to buzz off, he spoke again.

“Mavy… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, or-- or tried to pressure you, or…” 

The first of many long pauses. 

“...I never should have doubted you. You’re worth so… so much more than anyone gives you credit for, and… I’ve known that since day one. Somewhere in this mayhem, I… just... lost sight of that. I know you won’t listen to how sorry I am… but I promise you, Mavy, it won’t happen again. Families support each other… and… this little family of two is all we’ve got. And I know…”

A long pause.

“...I know that you don’t… want a family. But, darn it, Mavy, you need a family, now more than ever. It… It hurts so much watching all this happen to someone I care about. I’m trying so hard to help you, but I just…”

Another pause, exceptionally long this time. For a minute, I wondered if he had left without me noticing, but sure enough, he spoke again. This time, his voice trembled. He’d started crying.

“I… don’t know… how to be the family you need. It... seems like everything I try just… pushes you away even more. I’m not asking you to forgive me, even after all these years, I just… I wish… I wish we could just talk about it. I wish we could just start over and… be better.”

He sniffed, and fell silent again for a minute. When he spoke again, his voice was even quieter.

“You know, for all the trouble you two got into, I… I just loved seeing how happy he made you. I may not know how to be what you need, but… sure seemed like he did. No one else could make you laugh quite like him. ...I miss that laugh.”

Pause.

Then, by some miracle, I managed not to jump when he squeezed my hand. It was disgusting. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, so it was full skin-on-skin contact, and my hand was slimy with sweat, and for the Devs’ sake, Fix-it, I was asleep, as far as he knew. What kind of creep touches someone while they’re sleeping? Yeah, it was just my hand, but it’s the principle of the matter. I did not consent to that contact, and I would not have, even if he asked me. The whole idea of it pissed me off so much.

It didn’t make sense to me, then, why I didn’t pull away.

Maybe I was paralyzed with subconscious rage. Maybe I was too sick and depressed to move. Maybe I really, really didn’t want him to know I’d heard all that. Or, maybe pulling away would have conveyed a message that I didn’t want to send, one I didn’t think he fully deserved at the time.

Probably the rage.

Whatever my reason, he held my hand long enough to test me. Not even my gross, soggy palms deterred him. The binary in my hand was starting to really ache by the time he went on.

“You don’t deserve a broken heart, Mavy. I wish I could do more. I wish I could just… wave my hammer and bring him back for you. I’m so--... I’m so sorry I can’t give you that. There are some things I just… can’t fix.”

I heard him take a deep, slow breath, and it sounded like he rubbed his face with his free hand. For another few moments, I felt him watching me.

“Dream of something nice for me,” he finally muttered, and gave my hand one final squeeze before letting go. He stood, and, despite the fact that I was burning up, draped the blanket over my shoulders like some sappy cliché. Then he went the whole nine yards.

“Love you, cuz. Hope you know that.”

With that, he left me be. I waited until I heard his door creak and his duvet rustle to throw the blanket off and wipe my hand all over the couch. There was barely any mind power left in me to process what had just happened, but I suppose I ought to have thanked him for it -- it took my mind off of the things keeping me awake, and I eventually fell asleep, lost in uncomfortable thought.

I wasn’t angry, really, or even annoyed. I didn’t want to run away or chew him out. I just took bets with myself over how much longer it would be ‘til he realized he was wasting his time on me.