#dungeon construction co.

[rukafais]

my ideal shortform co-op game is like, Lethal Company But Fantasy, where you are constructs built by some cheap ass wizard to go inside horrible dungeons for treasure. you still have to pay for all your equipment even though the wizard made you. you are exactly as frail and ineffective as the average lethal company employee. your best weapon is an axe because swords are expensive.

alternatively: you can find swords. it won't help

[satoshi-mochida]

Sea of Stars free DLC ‘Throes of the Watchmaker’ announced - Gematsu

Sabotage Studio has announced Sea of Stars downloadable content “Throes of the Watchmaker.” It will launch for free in spring 2025.

Get the details below.

About

This Sea of Stars downloadable content finds the Solstice Warriors Valere and Zale venturing into the miniature clockwork world of Horloge. In this magical land where denizens are threatened by a cursed carnival, our heroes will need to adapt to unfamiliar rules if their Sun and Moon powers are to manifest. “Throes of the Watchmaker” is coming for free to all platforms in spring 2025!

Key Features

New Playable Classes for Valere and Zale – The world of Horloge plays by different rules, and for their magic to manifest, the Solstice Warriors will need to adapt. Zale will tap into his agility to become a Juggler, while Valere will harness her balance to dazzle as an Acrobat. Playing to the circus-themed curse, they will unlock a completely new set of attacks, damage types, skills and combos.

New Playable Character: Arty – Artificer joins the party! The friendly engineer robot will finally unlock the laser-shooting capabilities of his construct, and join Valere and Zale in the fight to save Horloge.

New Areas, Music, Enemies, Bosses, and Puzzles – Journey into a magical miniature clockwork world where a plethora of oddities and wonders await. The world of Horloge, where a cursed carnival threatens the innocent denizens, is filled with unique environments, NPCs, enemies and dungeons. And of course, Sabotage’s composer Eric W. Brown returns to bring a completely fresh set of tracks!

Local Cooperative With Up to Three Players – The upcoming local cooperative mode will also be available for Throes of the Watchmaker. It will allow up to three players to engage in traversal and combat with a new “Co-Op timed hits” mechanic! Disclaimer: this update is also coming to Sea of Stars’ main adventure Q4 2024.

Sea of Stars is available now for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series, PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Switch, and PC via Steam.

Watch a new trailer below.

DLC “Throes of the Watchmaker” Announce Trailer

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

@dragonprincedrabbles

Gren + Pip, Clear

Gren has an epiphany sitting in the dungeon with Pip, and maybe even a plan for a coup (that is not really a coup because Lord Viren is an illegitimate ruler, but he digresses).

An important fact about Commander Gren is that he was a teacher’s pet.

So of course he would raise his hand as best he could to be called on before speaking, chained up in a dungeon with the elf that had killed his king in a side chamber nearby, and said king’s bird stuck in his cage hanging from the wall.

Their imprisoner strode in, hands neatly folded on top of his staff, eyes shadowed and hanging heavily, bloodshot.

“No hot brown morning potion?” Gren asked, letting his wrists fall as limp as he could. It was hard to sleep standing up.

“No,” Lord Viren sighed, pinching his nose.

He kept on talking. “I have another-”

“Complaint? I’ll send a piece of paper. It will be promptly burned.”

Gren waggled a finger, grinning. “No! Not complaint- constructive criticism! We can all stand to do a little better, dontcha think?”

“If I humor you, will you silence?” Viren groaned, exasperated.

Gren was fairly certain the only reason he hadn’t done worse than chain him up here was because even the strongest mage would be helpless against General Amaya when she got wind of the predicament.

Still, he shrugged. He wasn’t the best at cards, but even he knew when to play an ace. He wasn’t commander to the revered general for nothing. “Sure!”

Viren mustered the most pleasant expression possible for him, one that was still the exact opposite of comforting, and smiled, though it came out a grimace. “Please do share your concerns, Commander.”

“Cool! I think…” He pondered for a moment. “I think it’s a little counterproductive- no, that’s not right. I think, yeah, I think it doesn’t make sense to keep the late king’s, may he rest in peace, bird in the dungeon.”

“And what would you rather I do with him?”

He pursed his lips. Gren hadn’t thought he’d get this far. “I dunno. Let me get back to you?”

“Yes, you ponder on that. Good tidings.”

Viren strode into the elf’s private cell, slamming the door behind him.

Gren leaned back against the hard, damp stone and released a long breath, looking to an oddly silent Pip in his cage hanging from the stairwell. “So. How are you?”

The bird squawked and ruffled his wings.

“Me, too, buddy. Hope you can get out of here, at least. No one’s built for this life.”

Pip tilted his head and picked at something under his wing.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?”

The bird moved his head in a little circle, and Gren chuckled.

“Hope it’s not long. If he cares this much about keeping me off the rescue mission, we could’ve compromised,” he mused. Gren had never been one for complete leadership, instead preferring to follow guidance and lead based on that. He would’ve been more than happy to co-lead the mission with Claudia and Soren, odd as they were. Just more opportunities to get to know them better, because one could never have too many friends.

Pip hopped forward on his perch, leaning his head so close to Gren that his beak poked through the bars. “Harrow,” he squawked.

Gren nodded. “I miss him, too.”

Pip shook his head, vibrant green plumage drooping and dirty. “Viren. Power.”

“I know he wants power,” Gren sighed in frustration, which was very counterproductive–and that was the right word this time–to what he’d worked on in therapy, channeling frustration and anger into productivity and paying things forward. But being productive in his current situation was very difficult, in his defense. No excuses, only doing, Ashton’s voice echoed.

 He gestured loosely to the door, taking a breath. “I don’t use the word lightly, but he’s cra-” He paused, the message the songbird was trying to relay growing more clear by the second.

“Are you telling me that Lord Viren let King Harrow die because he saw an opportunity to take power? And that’s why he’s keeping us here, so we can’t interfere?” He leaned towards the bird, struggling to keep his pitching voice from raising too high in excitement as the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Satisfied, the late king’s pet nodded. “Power-hungry fuckface.”

Gren burst out laughing. He had no doubt Queen Sarai had taught the bird that language that was quite accurate in describing the usurper.

“You’re not wrong, buddy. Hey”–he shot the bird appreciative finger guns–“you’re a good friend, Pip. Opened my eyes. But now I have to do something about it.”

Kick him where the sun doesn’t shine and chain him up in your place, Amaya would have said, but Gren didn’t possess her disregard for authority, nor her strength. No, Gren had to be more cunning about it. But how to outsmart a snake?

He thought back to the few words Pip had said, how Amaya had always complained, disgruntled, about the High Mage after every interaction with him.

“He’s manipulating Harrow,” she’d told him once in confidence after a few rounds of drinks, and Gren hadn’t breathed a word of it because not only would that have been treason, but betraying his best friend. “He’s selfish and you could swim in his sea of pride. I keep telling Sarai to work her way to getting him out by getting close to him, but she doesn’t listen. Tries to coexist.”

Pride. That was it.

Lord Viren couldn’t crack the Moonshadow elf who’d killed their king–who Viren might have let kill their king–and it was grating on him, breaking him down bit by bit until he’d do something less than humane- as if he hadn’t already.

Pride. He just had to play to his pride.

Gren had no more aces left. A king would have to do.

A voice echoed from the chamber, angry and piercing. “Would you stop talking to that blasted bird?!”

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

Prompt fill for the TES fanfic writers' discord weekly prompt.

1E414.

-

The first time they met Almalexia, she laughed them out of the room. Really, it had been quite marvelous-- the famously serious Almalexia, the grim Queen of Mournhold, the harsh leader of the free Chimeri who had greeted them with a bored scowl from her throne-- she had listened to Nerevar's tale first with a frown, then with a small up-turning of her mouth, a little crinkle of her eyes, and then, when Nerevar proposed to her, she had lost her composure and laughed. She laughed like royalty, clamping her hand over her mouth and turning her face away so that they couldn't see her mirth, though no decorum could hide the shaking of her shoulders. And when she asked her bodyguard to ensure they had lodging 'in payment for the wonderful tale they've entertained me with' she did it through giggles, and when she dismissed them, it was with a childish un-queenly grin.

Vivec was so captivated by the spectacle that he hardly noticed Nerevar-- Nerevar, blushing like a scolded child, Nerevar's mute indignant rage at the giggling girl. He marveled at the whiteness of her teeth, the glossy crimson of her hair, her fine robes, the bright scar that snaked over the high cheekbone beneath her left eye. He marveled until Nerevar dragged him out of the room and then he hung his head and stared very hard at the beautiful tiles they were walking on.

It was Vivec's first time meeting royalty, and being in a palace, and even being in Mournhold. It was Nerevar's first time speaking to the woman he intended to make his wife. When they were outside in the bright Mournhold sun they were glumly silent, Nerevar staring up at the sky and Vivec down at the ground, and they stood for a long time there in the heat.

It was Nerevar who spoke first: "She's a child!" he exclaimed with wroth. "She's a little girl on a throne, an arrogant little girl with a toy army!"

Vivec sucked on his teeth, pressed a bare toe into the corner of one of the courtyard tiles.

After a moment Nerevar added thoughtfully, "She's only naive. She's proud and we're new to her-- of course she doesn't yet believe in me! But I shall make her understand."

It was good that they'd made her laugh, Sotha Sil reassured them later. Their co-conspirator, the Queen's own court wizard, had joined them in the shabby inn they'd made their home. He perched awkwardly at the edge of Nerevar's bed, while Nerevar paced the room, stooping low to avoid hitting his head upon the rafters. Almalexia laughed rarely, Sotha Sil said. And Nerevar's optimism proved true: she could be persuaded.

Vivec crouched on top of the dresser of the corner and watched Sotha Sil carefully. He liked looking at Sotha Sil; Sotha Sil, constructed like a Dwemer spider, all angles and thin limbs and shiny brass artificial legs that somehow seemed more natural to him than his gangly arms. The first time he'd appeared to them it had been by accident, materializing right before them on the Mournhold steps, and this had delighted Vivec immensely. Sotha Sil spoke without looking at them, his wide blue eyes cast vaguely in the direction of Nerevar's pillow, and his little nervous hands fretted at a frayed corner of the blanket all the while.

"She holds no respect for me," Nerevar complained. "To laugh at my face-- after all I have done, after all I told her!-- if she were an older woman and wiser, she would see what a weapon I've brought to her." Here, he waved to Vivec. "She would fall to my feet in gratefulness."

Sotha Sil made a derisive sound. "If she thought you held a weapon that would aid her, she would throw you into a dungeon and take it from you at the point of a sword. Do not be fooled by the fact that her people call her mercy-- she was merciful once and it is a mistake she shan't repeat. No, the best thing you can be to her now is not a threat."

"A threat? How could I be a threat! I have come to protect her from all those that threaten her! Who else but me can lead her from her present peril? Certainly not you, wizard, or you would not be giving her to me on a platter."

Vivec watched a shudder go through Sotha Sil's narrow shoulders, then watched his eyes fall shut. Vivec adjusted himself on the dresser, letting one of his legs dangle, knock against an open drawer. Nerevar stopped to look from the window, ignorant of the blow he'd landed.

"Almalexia," Sotha Sil resumed presently, "Is all too aware of her hopeless situation. She is doomed and so she sees everything as a threat. When she comes to take you seriously, she will also see you as a threat. If for some reason you must insist on--" he paused again, drawing in a breath-- "I mean, if you fail at this… this quest of yours, she will become your enemy. You do understand that?"

"What if I were not a threat?" Nerevar asked, turning from the window. "I need not marry her! I could just offer myself to her as a general. I could join her Guild of Shouts. I could bind myself to her as a slave if it earned her support."

"Then you would become powerful anyways, and you would be a threat." Sotha Sil spoke very plainly. "She would have one eye on you, wondering at your motives, and she would notice the power you're accruing to yourself, and would notice how close behind her back you stand." Then he shrugged. "Of course, she will also think these things if you marry her, but maybe you'll achieve what you seek to before she puts a knife in you."

"You must be the king," Vivec added. He was chiding Nerevar, but his eyes remained on Sotha Sil's hands, which were methodically dismantling the weave of the blanket. "You have to be the Ruling King, that's how I saw it, that's how it must be. The Dwemer will never want to treat with you if you're only a servant-- you have to go to them as king. And to be the king--"

"I must marry her--"

"Or challenge her to a duel."

It was the first time the idea had been voiced between them. Nerevar spun around, regarding Vivec with wide, horrified eyes. Sotha Sil, too, raised his head-- he stared aghast at Vivec for a moment, then looked away, his mouth twisting into despair.

"Ah," Sotha Sil almost whispered, "So there's the stick behind the ash-yam. A duel. That damned duel!"

"Almalexia took her throne from Chemua in an honourable duel," Vivec addressed Nerevar again, but he couldn't tear his eyes from Sil. "By her own precedent you have the right to challenge her for her throne. Seht said that if she doesn't take your hand she'll be your enemy. So…"

"I would not kill her," Nerevar said quickly. Then he blushed, as if ashamed of even entertaining the idea. "I would not kill her," he said again, to Sotha Sil, though whether he was trying to reassure Sil or himself Vivec could not tell. "I know how to disarm an enemy. Or I could wound her in a limb."

"That would be even crueler," Sotha Sil muttered.

"It would not come to that!" Nerevar said frantically, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "I can persuade her, I need only time to win her heart. Our Mother Ayem! She's wise despite her years and will see reason if only I can make her listen. And I will make her listen. She will concede to this willingly, I'll make her concede. I have no wish to… You can help me, right?" He asked Sotha Sil. "Surely you have some other means of persuading her? If she knew you were aiding us--"

"She would hate me," Sotha Sil stated. But he closed his eyes, then, and pressed his finger against his temple. "… There is a powerful Ra'athim woman who she keeps as paramour, who has been known to influence her. This noble has certain ambitions and could be persuaded to support you. I could arrange a meeting…"

Vivec settled back against the wall, content to slip out of the discourse and into the safety of the shadows. But he found Sotha Sil looking at him with a strange expression-- it was a familiar expression, the face of someone who had been surprised by an old friend's uncharacteristic behaviour. When Sotha Sil looked at him, on those rare occasions Sotha Sil seemed to look at anyone and not through them, Vivec felt strangely as if they'd met long before Mournhold, as if they'd known each other all their lives. It made his stomach twist. It made him want to look away. When their planning ended and Sotha Sil used a recall spell to vanish from their midst, it came as a relief.

Nerevar fell onto the bed and stared for a long time at the ceiling, and then he called Vivec over.

"I would abandon this quest you've given me," Nerevar murmured, as Vivec laid himself along that large warm body. "I would pick up a sword and spend my days hunting down every person who has ever harmed you. Every single product of what you call your marriages, I would find them and slay them, one by one. I would make them suffer… I would take so much pleasure in their suffering, I would make their dying very slow." His arms felt very heavy when he embraced Vivec, and his shoulder still smelt like the bug musk they had bought for him, an ugly clash with the caravaneer's odor that permeated him. "What do I wish to drive out the Nords for? It was not the Nords who hurt you. I should pick a different foe. I cannot be the one meant for this… I cannot believe she laughed at me."

"I've a better idea," Vivec replied, nuzzling into Nerevar's chest. "Go fight the moons with an axe, if you want a different enemy."

"Ha, ha. I would rather fight the moons than fight… her. I take no joy in… but there's no other way. There's no other way, Vivec. It must be this way. This is the only way to reach my goals."

"Reach heaven by violence, then." And they fell asleep together all the same.

There were many more firsts in the coming days: Vivec's first time trying a sweet roll, Alandro Sul's first time meeting a Nord. Nerevar held a meeting with the Ra'athim noble that Sotha Sil had referenced, who turned out to be distantly related to him, and schemes were hatched, and plans were laid, and each day seemed to grow a little shorter and darker. They learned Mournhold like learning a new instrument, becoming slowly acquainted with the subtle manipulations that made the Queen's court move. They changed so swiftly they hardly noticed the transformation.

One day they received a loan from the Ra'athim noble and went to the market to buy a gift for Nerevar's would-be betrothed. Vivec stared very hard at shelf of fine daggers and pretended not to hear Nerevar asking the clerk about Almalexia's first duel, her fighting styles, her armor, where one could buy a better sword in town. They came away with a splendid little ebony letter-knife, which Nerevar cheerfully joked his future fiancee could find some peace in keeping, lest she ever decide she need to stab him in the back.

Then finally there came another first: Vivec's first time seeing Almalexia cry. The day came to issue the ultimatum of the hand or the sword.

It was almost more jarring than seeing her laugh. Almalexia did or weep feminine tender tears of royalty; she wept in wroth, anger turning her face as bright as her hair, her brow furrowing, her hands clenching into tight fists as Nerevar once more laid out his grand scheme for the liberation of the Chimer. He presented the future: he, the King of Mournhold, using the authority of office to foster an alliance with the Dwemer. He, using the power and influence of her city and her legend to foster an alliance between all the Houses. A prophecy inevitable, her only choice to make in it between his side or her grave. She sat very still and very straight in her throne all the while, taut as a trapped nix-hound, mute tears running in tidy single-file down her reddening cheeks.

Once more, Vivec only watched her. He watched carefully the quiver of her shoulders, the glint of green in her narrowing eyes. He watched a tear get caught on the gnarl of the scar in her face-- she had earned it at her first duel, Sotha Sil had told them, she wore it like a badge of her own strength-- then he turned his gaze to Sotha Sil, who stood stonily behind her like an executioner. This time he did not hang his head.

So the ultimatum was delivered. Almalexia was silent for ten seconds, then thirty-- then she stood and, quite calmly despite the dampness of her face, she ordered Nerevar to be gone from her sight. Nerevar left with the confidence of a victor; Vivec, however, remained rooted to the spot.

It was then that Almalexia seemed to notice Vivec for the first time. She was trembling when she approached him, and her voice shook:

"I never thought I would see you again," she said to Vivec, who had never been addressed by her before. "Yes, Sotha Sil told me who you are. I believed I would never see you again."

Standing so close to him, Vivec could see that she was not much older than he was; aside from her jewelry and fine clothing, her face was very plain, her chin vaguely Nordic, her eyes more green than yellow and boring into him with the same intensity he sometimes caught in Sotha Sil. He watched her take a deep breath and caught her lip quivering, as if she were resisting the urge to yell at him, or strike him, or simply howl. Words escaped her. She could find nothing to say to Vivec for a long time.

"Do you know me?" she finally demanded.

"I've never met you," replied Vivec, and it was the first time he ever lied to her, too.

[moorishflower]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @landwriter for the tag <3<3<3 Answers under the cut!

How many works do you have on Ao3? 227!

What's your total Ao3 word count? I broken two million this year! :)

What fandoms do you write for? I guess you'd say my "main" fandom is still The Sandman, because that's what really started me writing again, but I'll write for any piece of media that inspires me. I've written for The Terror, the D&D movie, Dungeon Meshi, Supernatural, Sherlock, and Homestuck at various points.

Top five fics by kudos: 1. aulon raid - In which no neonazis are allowed in the New Inn. 2. Curse of the Green Hag - The one where Xenk Yendar is cursed by a hag and he and Edgin have to fuck about it. 3. Ecdysis - Undressing and armor and bathing. 4. That I Should Wedded-Be - This was my first attempt at something longer. It's definitely not one of my better ones at this point but it was one of the first ones so it has a lot more kudos. 5. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow - The one where Hob fucks Dream on his desk.

Do you respond to comments? I would really like to, but I find that I often don't have the energy, and because I want every response to be unique and thoughtful and just for that person, it means that I feel really bad if I give a simple "thanks!" and nothing else. Inevitably the bad feeling of not responding in a meaningful way outweighs the good feeling of getting the comment, so now I really only respond to comments if they address me directly or ask a question.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? the long way down maybe? It has a more open "hopeful" ending. I don't usually let things end on a low note!

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Hallmark-Adjacent, I think. Literally ends like a Hallmark movie lol.

Do you get hate on fics? Once or twice it's happened. If it's happened since then I haven't been aware of it. I'm sure a lot of conversation goes on in like, discord channels and such that I don't follow. I'm not particularly interested in debating with people about the intentions or morality of my writing. I try to be as authentic and inclusive and respectful as the setting and story allow me to be, but I'm also human and fallible. *shrug* I grow and learn more every day. Expecting perfection from people is an exercise in frustration and futility.

Do you write smut?

yeh

Craziest crossover: Wrote a BBC Sherlock/Homestuck fusion. That was fun.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of. If it was like Cocoon or Maybe sprout wings I think I'd be really upset about it because I put so much into those, but I don't know if I'd feel particularly devastated if it was anything else. BSN, maybe. I mean it would suck? That's a shitty thing to do, but also, you're not earning any real clout or money by doing it, lol.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! A number of my fics have been translated, mostly into Russian (thanks chainsmoking and Bonniemary!), and one into Spanish (thanks Dhixi!). I'm incredibly flattered every time someone takes the time and effort to do a translation. It's an incredible art.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, though not recently.

All time favourite ship? Listen I write so much for Sandman but truthfully? Mulder/Scully. Alpha and omega ship. Don't know if anything will ever compare.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? At this point, The Whole of Love Contained is so far removed from my current writing style that I would have to restart from scratch, I think. I'm not counting it out forever, but there are other ideas I've had that I'm more interested in pursuing first.

What are your writing strengths? I really like sentence construction. The flow of it. How you can use punctuation to make it stop -- and then carry on, giving it purposeful structure. I've been told I have a talent for inserting life-altering sentences into the middle of things so that they hit you like a punch. Idk I'm bad at listing my own strengths. I like to research things a lot?

What are your writing weaknesses? Pacing, definitely, and action scenes. I always feel like my action scenes have low-stakes feel to them. And dialogue. I think a lot of people struggle to write realistic dialogue, though, so that might not just be me. Keeping the momentum going. Sometimes I'll be so focused on reaching one specific scene that I'll lose track of how to actually get there, and I'll stall out. I feel like I have a lot more weaknesses but I struggle to articulate them beyond a sense of deep dissatisfaction with my own writing, especially in comparison with other writers whom I greatly admire. I feel often like I'm churning out things that are easily-digestible and entertaining, but not necessarily meaningful, or not conveying what I would like them to do. Logically I know that "entertaining" is a value unto itself, and nothing to scoff at, but still. The writer's hubris, maybe.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? Kind of depends on what you're using it for, I suppose. I tend to stick with one narrator's POV, so it can be useful if the narrator doesn't speak that language, but we, as the readers, can pop the sentence into translate and get the gist. I tend to use that sparingly as a gimmick, though, because I'm not multilingual except in the very most basic of terms and I prefer being correct to being aesthetic, lol.

First fandom you wrote in? If you want to be technical, it was Harry Potter. But the first fandom I wrote seriously for was Heroes.

Favourite fic you've written? I'm still proudest of Maybe sprout wings. Not sure if I'll ever write something like that again, where so much of it just felt right. And it got a compliment from a writer I admired very much in Homestuck fandom, so I reckon I did something right with it.

I'll tag @arialerendeair and @dsudis because I know you've both been in fandom for a while and I want to hear your stats <3

[carrotsnake]

dungeon meshi fandom rant

i usually stay away from fictional autism headcanons or indulging in them wholesale because i'm more on the 'characters are constructs' side of things. some may exhibit traits we relate to but placing real-world diagnostic labels on walking metaphors makes things too nebulous. however laios touden is an exception to me since autism allegories (despite no authorial intent) are pretty hard-wired into both his arc and dungeon meshi's core themes about being an outsider. so for once the fandom autism memes feel genuine to me lol. it doesn't feel as fanon-heavy or platitudinous, actually it's pretty uplifting. i appreciate the positivity.

that being said the most dogshit dunmesh take i've seen lately is the assertion that laios and falin show us autistic men are villified for things autistic women are accepted for. the fuck are you people smoking? some rebranded MRA-pilled bullshit? log off tumblr and go outside, then point and show me where this is the truth. i don't know if you guys are all living in a feminist utopia that i'm not privy too, but if so send me the address because things couldn't be less like that everywhere i've ever been.

countless times i've been told 'oh you're exactly like a female copy of [socially anxious male friend/co-worker/family member who shares my personality] and then i gotta watch them get special treatment as i get left behind and scolded for not being normal enough. him being blunt is rebellious & brutally honest, me being blunt is just being a b*tch with no filter. how many times do you see autistic women reaching high positions of power and being revered as a misunderstood genius.

how about everyone reminding us to 'be nice' to the supposedly harmless awkward guy who keeps making sexual comments & invading our boundaries because he can't help it apparently. but strangely enough, i have gone my whole life without creeping on others. only to be called creepy and off-putting by these same social equality preachers for not applying makeup or styling my hair right. autistic women are more likely to be sexually harrassed and/or abused than neurotypical women and no one gaf (let's b real they don't care when it happens to neurotypical women either if the man has a good enough sob story.) shit like walking strangely, having a speech impediment and talking too much about esoteric topics was enough to be outcasted for us. once more, with feeling: what are you people smoking?

and critically, falin is pretty. she's conventionally pure, self-sacrificial, beautiful with hollywood curves, soft-spoken, and never questions anyone nor asserts herself over others when her needs aren't being met. her dislikes in the adventurer's bible are 'nothing in particular', she never spoke out against her village's bullying even when she had it worse than laios, quickly forgives her parents for exiling her, and never shows any opinion on marcille's use of dark magic. she's a paragon of femininity. anything less than that, and she would probably invoke similar if not more disgust from her peers than laios through the audacity of not conforming to gender expectations. but she likes holding bugs or whatever so...whoa! she's so feral and subversive amiright guys. but crucially she looks cute while doing it so we're not too uncomfortable to stan.

i love laios so much, he's in my newest blorbo collection for sure but calling the female characters who don't like him judgemental is not a good look. we as the readers who have been inside the main chara's head know he's a good guy - but in the context of dungeon meshi's world, where sexism is as prevalent as stranger danger, it's fair for them to assume bad intent and keep their distance. they're looking out for their own safety and you're mad about that because, what, it makes your 2D nigel sad? cry about it.

so quit using anime characters as fodder for your thinly-veiled 'everyday men milk themselves' preaches. the touden siblings are not a good example of this. if you unironically agree with that take: it's time to go talk to some real women broski.

[teamconductors]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Lost Tracks of Time, One Last Stop

Summary: Ingo and Emmet continue their adventures through present day Unova, past Hisui, and future Sinnoh.

Author’s Note: One year ago, on February 20th, I wrote and published the original PMD LTOT oneshot on my personal tumblr. It was inspired by @furiouskettle’s art of Ingo and Emmet as Sneasels in a PMD world. I never expected the fic to get as much attention as it did, but I’m glad it did. I got to tell a full story two funky dudes screwed over by Arceus that reunited, got a sister, saved a legendary pokemon, and now casually time travel between three times.

So I needed to make something for the anniversary, right?

(As always, bl*nkshippers DNI)

In a world with only pokemon, there was Eterna Town. Near the Pearl Guild and Eterna Forest, the town acted as a near-mandatory stop for rescue teams before they set out on missions. Among the teams that frequent the hub was Team Conductors. The co-leaders knew the importance of preparations, which was why they petitioned to have the town as a stop for their subway system.

The team visited all the shops to ask for permission to build a station, though many of the conversations consisted of Ingo explaining what a subway was and why they wanted to build one. The Kecleon brothers gladly accepted the idea of more business. Gimmighoul also jumped at the potential for more customers for their bank. Rampardos’ Apprisal and Kangaskhan gave their approval after an even longer explanation of trains from Ingo. Decidueye hesitated since he didn’t know how much space they would need and if it could interfere with his training dojo’s space, but he relented upon seeing everyone else’s signatures.

Lastly, there was Alcremie’s café and bakery. She was a nervous person, so the idea of her little shop getting more attention made her nervous. Ingo and Emmet decided to give her some time to think on it, and they ordered drinks for the team.

“Um…” Eelektross’ body barely fit inside the café, and he had to loop it along the walls to avoid running into other pokemon. He held his smoothie with his claws, trying to put just enough pinch pressure to hold and not break it. “I’ll… eat outside…” He left the building with Chandelure, who decided to stare at their trainer while floating next to their friend.

Ingo sighed as he sat down next to Emmet and across from Sneasler. The three sat in a corner of the cafe where they can talk more freely. His body visibly relaxed. “Bravo, everyone…”

“Your voice is rough,” Emmet said.

“You didn’t have to explain what subways were to everyone, Ingo. I think most the folk here would’ve said yes,” Sneasler said.

“But they deserve to know what the project is about!” Ingo said. “Getting permissions to make the Battle Subway didn’t make us this exhausted.”

“The train station was already there. We only had to worry about train cars strong enough for pokemon battles,” Emmet said.

“You have a good point, Emmet,” Ingo said. “For now, let us rest until Miss Alcremie makes her decision!”

“Uh, yeah. That’s why we’re still here,” Sneasler said.

“Also, Sneasler, did you want to hear about previous trips to the other stations?” Ingo asked.

“Sure. Anything good happen?” Sneasler asked. She sipped her smoothie.

“We told Elesa everything,” Emmet said.

Sneasler gasped while drinking, resulting in her breathing in liquid. She lurched forward and coughed to clear her throat.

“Are you alright?!” Ingo jumped to standing position to help Sneasler.

After a few more coughs and a brief pounding of her chest, Sneasler regained control of her breathing. “You WHAT?!”

“That was a joke… Sorry, Sneasler,” Emmet said, looking away from her due to guilt.

Ingo sighed. “Because we felt terrible for not being able to tell Elesa why we can turn into Sneasels, we decided to construct a plausible story to show her to almost the right destination of truth. It was tricky to craft something believable since we can’t tell her about the future, but we tried.”

Sneasler raised a brow. “And? How’d that go?”

***

In a café on the outskirts of Nimbasa City, thee pokemon trainers met for coffee. The sun had not yet peaked over the horizon, as the three wanted to meet before most people awakened for the day. The three chose a meeting time so early not only to avoid interference with their schedules but also to allow them to talk more openly without worry of anyone eavesdropping them. Wild Minccino swept the outdoor grounds of the café, avoiding the pokemon of the trainers eating breakfast at their trainer’s feet. Ingo and Emmet sat opposite to Elesa.

Elesa stared at her half-finished latte. “Let me see if I got this right. Ingo got sent to Hisui by Arceus itself to save the world, but either of you could’ve been taken.” She looked at Ingo. “You lost your memories while protecting the other trainer sent to save the world, and that’s what you were like when Emmet found you.”

“That is right,” Emmet said.

Elesa continued, “And then, after the world was saved, this Volo guy tried to get revenge on you two, and that’s why Giratina had you turn into Sneasels? To protect you?”

“I suppose that explanation streamlines the events well,” Ingo said.

Elesa took a sip of coffee. “You two need to get better at lying.”

“What… made you arrive at that conclusion?” Ingo asked.

“Call it a gut feeling,” Elesa said. “Plus I know you too well. You’re not the best liars. Well, something tells me you weren’t entirely lying. The first half sounded about right, but the second half… Some of the pieces don’t fit right.”

“Busted,” Emmet said. His grin grew wider.

Ingo sighed. “As always, your intuition is quite admirable. I am truly sorry, Elesa.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hold it against you. From the way Giratina talked about things, it sounds like I’m not supposed to know anyway, no matter how much I want to,” Elesa said.

“I am sorry,” Emmet said, his smile lowering enough for Elesa to notice. “I… wanted to clear your train of thought from worrying.” He wanted to put some of Elesa’s mind at ease after all the troubles he caused her and all she did to care for their pokemon in their absence.

Elesa smiled. “I appreciate it. But you two, promise me something.”

“Yes?” Ingo and Emmet said.

“As soon as you’re allowed to tell me what really happened, please do. Because it sounds like you had fun,” Elesa said. “Oh, speaking of…” “Elesa turned and checked around the area.

After staring in confusion, Ingo and Emmet realized what she was doing and scanned their surroundings.

“The station is all clear,” Ingo said. Emmet nodded in agreement.

“Well, I can trust it if you two do. So!” Elesa sat up, and her eyes brightened. “How’s your transformation training going? You said you’re working on it, right?”

“We made excellent progress!” Ingo said. “Emmet and I can carry out transformations on our own accord and complete them within 5 seconds!”

“They are weird to watch,” Emmet said. His gaze drifted away from Elesa and Ingo. “I am Emmet. I am still sorry you saw it.”

“What, am I the only one who’s seen it happen?” Elesa raised a brow at her friends.

“Unfortunately, this is correct,” Ingo said.

“Don’t forget about us,” Eelektross said as he placed his head on Emmet’s lap. Emmet smiled and petted Eelektross’ head.

“As if we could forget!” Ingo said as his Excadrill approached for pets as well. “I apologize to you as well, my pokemon.”

“One day they’ll stop apologizing,” Archeops said. Galvantula, Durant, and Crustle nodded in agreement.

“And what about the interpol? Are they off your backs yet?” Elesa asked.

Ingo sighed. “Despite us staying on course to deny any recollection of where and when we went, the people there are rather persistent in finding out the truth…”

“We are lucky they haven’t found our spike maul and rail spike yet,” Emmet said.

“I mean, you did disappear for a month and then jumped out of a window. Hard to get a flashier entrance than that!” Elesa said. “Maybe we can just tell them some Beheeyems abducted you or something?”

Ingo’s and Emmet’s hearts jumped at the mention of a Beheeyem. Of all the pokemon to mention…

“Changing our story’s track would draw more suspicions than we already have,” Ingo said, frowning deeply. “We will ensure that the international police arrive at a destination that will satisfy their curiosity.”

“I think you will. You guys are smart. Let’s just hope Arceus doesn’t get any funny ideas and try to kidnap anyone else!” Elesa laughed, but then she stopped at once. “Oh, wait, you said there was another trainer that went with you, Ingo. Never mind then.”

“We will figure it out,” Emmet said.

The sun peaked over the horizon and through the trees. Elesa held up a hand to cover her eyes. “That’s my cue! I’m gonna go for a jog before the chill morning air warms up. It just gives me an energizing jolt. Wanna come with?”

“Thank you for the offer, but Emmet and I should depart for the Battle Subway,” Ingo said. “Are all of our passengers ready?”

Ingo’s and Emmet’s pokemon all gave their trainers affirmations of readiness.

“Elesa, thank you for continuing to ride with us despite all of the mayhem we caused,” Ingo said. His frown changed to a smile long enough for Elesa to notice.

She smiled. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better.” Elesa recalled her pokemon to their balls, save for Zebstrika. “C’mon, Zebstrika! Race you to the gym!” She disposed of her empty coffee cup and jogged with her pokemon at her side.

***

Sneasler chuckled. “Kinda sucks you can’t say shit to her. I wanna meet her.”

“Sadly, Almighty Giratina and Mighty Dialga raised an excellent point. Knowing about the future can be dangerous, and I can only imagine how worrying it would be to find out that no living humans exist in the future, even if the destination is rather far,” Ingo said.

“Maybe we can find her reincarnation,” Emmet said, pointing a finger up.

Ingo’s eyes widened. “Emmet, is that a possible destination?”

Emmet shrugged. “Several humans from Hisui and our home time reincarnated. I do not see why it is not.”

“Hm… I think I would rather try and find an alternate path that would lead us to explaining more things to our Elesa. She can keep secrets, but I understand Mighty Dialga’s hesitation,” Ingo said.

“We can deal with that later. Anything else good happen that won’t make me choke on my drink?” Sneasler asked.

Ingo and Emmet proceeded to tell Sneasler about different battles from the Battle Subway, including a multi-battle against two regional champions. In truth, Sneasler could barely keep up with Ingo’s and Emmet’s excitement over giving an exact play-by-play of the battle. Battles with trainers were different than the battles she knew, but it made her wonder about what it’s like to trust someone that much for decisions in a fast-paced battle.

“Okay, that’s enough.” She worried that Ingo really would throw out his voice with his multiple infodumping sessions that day. “What about in Hisui? Anything good that I don’t remember yet?” Sneasler asked.

“I am getting better at being a warden,” Emmet said. “My pokemon are getting verrrry strong. I am almost ready to battle Ingo!”

“You are always welcome to train with me, Emmet, regardless of the strength of your team!” Ingo said.

“No. I meant in a serious battle.”

“Very well, then. Perhaps we can battle next time we arrive there!” Ingo hummed before continuing. “Oh! Emmet met all the other Wardens of the Pearl Guild!”

“It was strange,” Emmet said. “Knowing their reincarnations made it weird.”

“But they accepted Emmet with open arms!” Ingo said.

“Wait, before you continue, I need to know. Emmet, did you meet Melli yet?” Sneasler asked.

Emmet’s smile grew wider. “Yes. I do not like him.”

“Yeah, I figured. What was that like?” Sneasler asked.

“I have to say, Emmet did extremely well to maintain his duty as a Warden and restrain himself!” Ingo said with complete sincerity.

“He said he was better than us because his ward only needed him. He called Ingo a bad warden!” Emmet’s smile grew so wide that his face hurt.

Sneasler sighed. “Yeah, sounds about right. When I remembered him, I asked Electrode about that guy, and she said that the Lord Electrode from then really liked him. I don’t get it.”

“Warden Melli has his… faults, but he sincerely cares for his Ward and maintenance of the Coronet Highlands,” Ingo said. “Emmet challenged him to a battle for the comment, though.”

“I won. None of my pokemon fainted.” Emmet sipped his iced tea in satisfaction.

Sneasler laughed. “Nice. Anything else good happen?”

“Hm… Oh! We had an unusual mission right before we returned to this station!” Ingo said.

***

Several centuries in the past, there was the Coronet Highlands in the Hisui region. Toward the northern region of the area, two human-shaped people kept their watch over the area for the safety of both humans and pokemon.

Emmet pulled on the neckline of the Pearl Clan tunic. While glad to be accepted into the clan that accepted his brother, the tunic worked well to keep him warm. Too well. But he had to wear the uniform for his job, so he continued wearing it even if he was more comfortable in the cold.

Ingo looked at Emmet and fidgeted with his own coat. He felt his Arc Watch vibrate. He rolled up his sleeve slightly to see the screen. As long as other clan members weren’t around, he used the watch’s map to keep an eye on mass outbreaks and massive mass outbreaks of pokemon. The vibrating notification only occurred when a Space-Time Distortion formed.

Emmet sniffed the air and scanned around the highlands as much as he could. He saw a bubble of chaos in the distance near Fabled Spring. “There is a distortion. I am still curious. Why are there stable Space-Time Distortions in Hisui?”

“Well, seeing as Miss Akari has captured Mighty Dialga, Mighty Palkia, and Almighty Giratina at this point, perhaps this is their method of thanking her for saving the world,” Ingo said.

“That sounds weird.” Emmet stretched his arms and shoulders. “I want to visit the distortion. I want to battle strong pokemon.”

“…Emmet, I need you to confirm something for me.” Ingo swiped on the watch screen, turning the two-dimensional map into a projected three-dimensional one of the Coronet Highlands. A wide purple circle represented the distortion, which was expected. “Can you confirm what I see on this map?”

Ingo pointed at the irregularity, which was a single blue dot inside the circle.

“I see the dot,” Emmet said. Though he wore his familiar smile, he was not pleased. “I am Emmet. I am certain it is a passenger.”

“That is what I feared. The blue dots represent our clients for our rescues in the future, but to think we’d see that marker here… Emmet, we must depart for Fabled Spring!”

“Yes. FULL SPEED AHEAD! NO BRAKES!” Emmet began his run down the hill, his arms held straight behind him.

“Emmet, please be cautious as you traverse down a slope!” Ingo ran after his brother.

Emmet and Ingo ran down the Sacred Plaza along a well-trotted path. They passed the graveyard and entered Bolderoll Ravine.

“GET OVER HERE!” Three Graveler curled into balls and chased after the twins.

“This is not good,” Emmet said, glancing at Ingo to make sure his brother would be alright.

An alpha Golem roared, knocking Ingo and Emmet to the ground. He needed no other information than to destroy the humans that entered their territory. The alpha joined his Graveler friends and rolled to crush Ingo and Emmet.

Ingo grabbed his cap, which flew off when he fell. “EMMET! PULL NO BRAKES!” His extraordinarily loud shout made the Gravelers and Golem wince, buying him and his brother precious time to pick themselves up and continue running.

Ingo and Emmet approached the river that led to Fabled Spring. Because mountains and hills surround the spring, the only entry possible without the use of a climbing pokemon like Lady Sneasler was to follow the river. They approached a bridge that led to another part of the highlands.

When they stood on the bridge, Ingo and Emmet grabbed out one pokeball each. “Time to depart!” they both announced. They threw their pokeballs to the river. Out came Ingo’s Magnezone and Emmet’s Crobat. The pokemon turned and saw their humans chased by an avalanche of angry Golem and Gravelers and instantly knew what to do. The two wardens jumped with absolute confidence that their pokemon would catch them before they plummet into the water. Ingo flopped onto Magnezone while Emmet grabbed onto Crobat’s tail. Crobat squeaked from the weight, but he kept his human above the water.

Golem and his Gravelers screeched into a halt on the bridge before they could fall into the water. Though unsatisfied with the outcome, the humans left their territory. They turned to roll back to Bolderoll Ravine.

“Excellent! Bravo!” Ingo said to their pokemon.

“You’re… heavy…” Magnezone said with a strained but monotone voice. They were not used to their human riding on them.

“Oh, I apologize. We are close to our destination.” Ingo pointed forward to the distortion down the river. “Please bring us to the space-time distortion!”

“Are you serious?!” Crobat asked. Going to the distortion did not surprise him; Emmet beelined to a distortion whenever one appeared. He was just surprised since Emmet normally did not ask to carry him across long distances.

“I am Emmet, and he is Ingo. We are always serious,” Emmet said. “Thank you for your service.”

Magnezone and Crobat reluctantly flew toward the distorted Fabled Spring. On a typical day, the Fabled Springs was a flat area of the highlands defined by the sparkling spring that ran through it. Clefairy and other strange but beautiful pokemon gathered in the area, further lending to its graceful atmosphere. At that point, however, there was barely enough land next to the river that the pokemon can drop the Wardens off outside of the violet, swirling barrier. The fairy type pokemon were also absent, hiding from the distortion.

“Thank you, my pokemon! We shall provide you more treats once our mission is complete,” Ingo said as he recalled Magnezone into its pokeball.

“I will do the same,” Emmet said. Crobat nodded and returned to his pokeball as well.

“Once we return to the future, we need to reward Eelektross and Chandelure more for carrying us around places,” Ingo said. “Emmet! Are you ready for departure?”

“I am Emmet. I am ready.”

Ingo braced for impact as he passed through the distortion barrier. The difference in the air was immediate. The Coronet Highlands bared a sharp coldness only outdone by the icelands. Within the distortion, the air instead was warm and thick. Emmet pulled on the collar of his tunic to let out some heat. Instead of the graceful, flat fields the twins knew, the distortion warped the landscape into peaks and valleys. Items like evolution stones, colored slab shards, and even futuristic TMs were scattered around. Lightning sparked and stretched across the swirling violet sky that blocked out the sun.

“Ingo, where is our passenger?” Emmet asked. He began surveying the landscape like he intended to cross a street.

“They should be in the center of the distortion, but given the landscape changes…” Ingo looked up to confirm the map’s information. The map indicated an especially large shift in the center that resulted in a small mountain. Indeed, a grassed mound taller than the ruined pillars near Lord Electrode’s Seat protruded from the spring river.

“How do we get up there?” Emmet asked.

“Allow me to reach our passenger! And please watch my surroundings for me.” Ingo may not have claws while in his human-shape, but his experience climbing as a Sneasel made it easier to climb as a human as well. It helped that the mountain was not too steep to realistically need assistance from someone like Lady Sneasler. Within a minute or two, he reached the top to see who the rescuee was.

“Sir Rei!” Ingo picked up and held the teenager in his arms.

“The Pikachu?” Emmet asked.

“Well, you’re not wrong, but this is the original Rei. We need to transport him to one of the Galaxy Expedition Team’s camps. Thankfully, his injuries do not seem severe, save for his loss of consciousness.”

“Okay. Where is the nearest camp?” Emmet asked.

“That would be...” Ingo pulled up his watch map and focused on the lower section of the Coronet Highlands. “Hm. The summit camp is objectively the shortest distance, but the uphill incline may impact our method of travelling. There is another Galaxy camp near Lonely Spring, which has a more straightforward path but is also a longer distance. On saying that outloud, our path is clear. Let’s depart for the summit-!”

Emmet pulled Ingo backwards by the collar of his tunic. Where Ingo once stood, a Flamethrower blew and would have charred Ingo.

“Thank you, Emmet!” Ingo said. He and Emmet faced the pokemon that spawned from the air: a Magmortar, a Toxicroak, and an Alakazam. Alakazam manifested orbs of psychic energy and launched them to Ingo. He barely jumped out of the way in time. He turned to shield Rei from the dust and grass kicked up from the attack.

“Huh, this feels familiar,” Emmet said as he dodged another Flamethrower from Magmortar.

“Emmet, I cannot battle these pokemon while escorting Rei!” Ingo said while running away from Alakazam and Toxicroak.

“I am Emmet. I will assist you!” Emmet pulled out two pokeballs and threw them toward Ingo. His Garchomp and Porygon-Z popped out and took defensive positions between Ingo and the wild pokemon.

Toxicroak tried to Poison Jab Emmet, but his Garchomp rushed over and used Earth Power to break up the ground beneath them. The distorted area made chunks of ground float up, obscuring Toxicroak’s vision.

Meanwhile, Porygon-Z followed Ingo and used Shadow Ball on the Alakazam. Magmortar engulfed Porygon-Z with his Flamethrower. Porygon-Z shook off the remaining flames and continued shaking as it countered with Tri Attack, paralyzing the Magmortar. Toxicroak tried to butt into the battle with Rock Smash, but Garchomp used Outrage and charged into the Toxicroak as well as the Alakazam.

“We are approaching our destination!” Ingo said. He and Emmet were almost at the edge of the distortion, only diverting from their straight path when the ground shifted in an attempt to trip them.

“You did well!” Emmet said as Porygon-Z and Garchomp recalled themselves into their poke balls. He turned to check on their opponents, but the three hostile pokemon vanished, seemingly replaced by a Sheildon and a Rowlet. “Verrrry strange.”

The Wardens jumped through the violet barrier. The cold air hit their faces like an Icy Wind. The landscape was the same as when they last left it.

“Are you alright, Emmet?” Ingo asked.

“I am Emmet. I am okay, as is my team,” Emmet said.

“Excellent! And let me say bravo to your pokemon as well! ... Well, perhaps we should wait until Sir Rei gets proper medical attention.”

Emmet nodded. The two took off running north to the nearest Galaxy Expedition Team camp. Upon arrival, the Survey Corps members retrieved Rei and had him rest at their tent. They prepared medicine to aid Rei’s healing process. Ingo and Emmet sat on a fallen marble pillar.

“Ingo, I had a thought. Do you know what the distortions remind me of?” Emmet asked.

“Hm? I might know, but please tell me!” Ingo’s eyes widened.

“They are like mystery dungeons.”

“Huh. Could you explain the connection?”

“Guildmaster Irida said that mystery dungeons came without warning. They are dangerous and changed the land. Items and hostile pokemon appear randomly, too.”

“…Huh, what an interesting connection! Now that I think of it, Mighty Palkia mentioned stabilizing the mystery dungeons from the Distortion World merger. Hm… do you think we could arrange a meeting with Mighty Palkia about this?”

“Hm… If we do, could we ask them to not form any mystery dungeons in our subway system?”

“Oh! Emmet, that is brilliant! Sneasler said that there shouldn’t be any risk of a dungeon forming, but a meeting would likely ensure it! Let’s embark on that journey after we finish today’s work here!”

***

“In sum, we applied our experiences in the mystery dungeons to distortions in Hisui, and we even rescued a passenger! Isn’t it astounding?” Ingo asked.

“I love how casual you guys are about meeting legendary pokemon,” Sneasler said. She took a bite of her salted puffs she purchased during the story.

“Were you listening, Sneasler?” Emmet asked.

“Of course I was! I’m glad you got to apply your knowledge and shit.” Sneasler paused. “…Wait, you guys came straight here after that rescue?”

“Yes, but only after Sir Rei regained consciousness and his team was healed,” Ingo said.

“…Have you guys taken a break? Or gone on vacation or something?” Sneasler asked.

Ingo frowned further. “We have not. Since we can travel between our duties, it has been easier to-“

“The time travel crap should mean you have more time to take a vacation!” Sneasler pointed to Ingo.

Ingo closed his eyes to think about what Sneasler said.

“A vacation is a good idea,” Emmet said. “A change of scenery would be nice.”

“Great!” Sneasler clapped her hands once. “So I was thinking-“

“I have a better idea.” Emmet’s smile grew wider. “Sneasler, battle us.”

“…What?” Sneasler asked.

“Sneasler, battle me and Ingo. If you win, we all go on vacation,” Emmet said.

Sneasler blinked. “Or… you know… we can just go on vacation without a battle.”

“Battle us, Sneasler.” Emmet leaned in closer toward Sneasler.

Ingo hummed. “I would feel bad about temporarily abandoning our duties so soon after we began planning construction of the subway. But if it was part of an agreement based on the outcome of a battle, how can I argue against it?”

Sneasler groaned loud enough to attract some head-turns from other customers. “You two are ridiculous… Didn’t we already battle once or twice?!”

“I want a battle where you are not trying to kill us,” Emmet said.

“Emmet, that was rude,” Ingo said.

“Guys, I’m still a lot stronger than you.” Sneasler crossed her arms.

“We fought Arceus and won,” Emmet said.

Sneasler opened her mouth to retort, but she found no argument to beat Emmet’s. If they managed to beat Arceus, then maybe a battle against them both wouldn’t be as one-sided as she feared. “…Okay. So I beat you and we all go on vacation. Dare I ask what you want if you two win?”

Ingo and Emmet shared a look and began thinking. Ingo spoke. “Then we immediately contact Almgihty Giratina and Mighty Dialga to see if we can tell Elesa more than we can now and ask Mighty Palkia our questions about where mystery dungeons originate from!”

“I like that idea,” Emmet said.

“I regret asking,” Sneasler said. “But that’s on me. Alright, alright, alright! Fine! You two will get your battle.”

“Excellent! Let us depart for an appropriate battlefield!” Ingo finished the rest of his drink in one gulp. Emmet did the same.

“Oh, I have a good place in mind,” Sneasler said.

***

In Eterna Forest, there was a grand tree that was cutdown, leaving behind a massive stump. The Noble pokemon used the stump as a meeting table for official business, but there was a clearing next to the area.

“You know, this is kinda a meeting place for the Nobles,” Sneasler said while taking off her basket. She flipped the basket over, letting the two Sneasels tumble out. “Kleavor’s Seat is near, too.”

“Oh! Is our battle going to interrupt his business?” Ingo asked.

“Nah. He’s out doing Noble pokemon stuff,” Sneasler said.

“Maybe we should clean up after…?” Eelektross said.

“Eh, it’s fine. It’s not the first a battle was here. Remember the whole frenzying thing from the past? This was where that Akari girl battled the Kleavor from back then.” Sneasler pointed to the ground.

“Appropriate,” Emmet said.

“Alright, you two. Let’s do this, I guess.” She took off her basket and coat and gave them to Eelektross and Chandelure. Remembering that Anthe the Tailor modified her gray conductor’s cap to reduce damage taken from psychic-type attacks and knowing Emmet would want to use Psycho Cut against her, she began taking it off.

“Pull the brakes! Wear your uniform during a battle!” Emmet said, pointing at Sneasler’s cap.

“What, the hat? I’m already stronger than you. I don’t need to wear this for our fight,” Sneasler said.

“Sneasler, when Emmet and I battle others, we operate at our best because that is what our opponents deserve,” Ingo said.

“This is a serious battle. If a battle is not serious, it is not fun,” Emmet said.

“Just listen to them… please…” Eelektross said. He had curled into a coil on top of the giant tree stump, and Chandelure rested on top of his body. Though they wanted to battle, too, they decided to leave this one to their trainers.

Sneasler rolled her eyes and groaned. “On my ancestors… Fine!” Sneasler slapped her cap back on. She spread her feet and held her claws up in a battle stance. “Serious battle it is. Now do your thing.”

Ingo nodded. “This will be a two-against-one battle. Will Emmet and I cover each other’s weaknesses? Or will your strength overwhelm us? I look forward to finding out!” He pointed to Sneasler and the ground.

Emmet stood and mirrored Ingo’s pose. “Follow the rules and drive safely! We’re headed for victory!”

“ALL ABOARD!” The three said.

Ingo Bulked Up while Emmet Honed his Claws. Sneasler noted their buffs and took the time to get a running start. Poison seeped her claws. She yelled as she charged the Sneasels. Ingo Quick Attacked into Emmet to get his brother out of the way of the Dire Claw.

Sneasler hit the ground where they once stood, her claws digging in slightly. “Shoulda seen that coming.” She pulled her hand out and collected herself. Ingo and Emmet ran at her with Quick Attack and Psycho Cut, respectively. She took Ingo’s attack to her stomach and held her arm up to tank Emmet’s. Her feet slid, leaving a trail of dirt in the ground, but she did not topple. With her other hand, she swung and used a single Aerial Ace on them both.

“She truly isn’t holding back! Bravo!” Ingo said after he recovered from the supereffective attack. He jumped backwards for space and ran around Sneasler. He prepared a Drain Punch but waited for an opening.

“The hell are you doing?” Sneasler asked Ingo. Despite the distraction, she kept her eye on Emmet, who got back up and jumped above her. Sneasler held her arms up to block his Psycho Cut. Emmet landed the attack, then a whistle manifested from nowhere into his hand. The whistle fweeted, which made Sneasler realize he used Beat Up. She turned to see Ingo teleport due to Emmet’s summoning attack. She hit Ingo’s Drain Punch with her Dire Claw. Though Ingo managed to regain some health from Sneasler, an unnatural drowsiness loomed over him.

Emmet saw his brother struggling to stay standing. He knew the attack wasn’t enough to make Ingo faint, so he deduced that Sneasler’s Dire Claw inflicted Ingo with drowsiness. Emmet needed to give his brother space to recover from the status condition. He Ice Beamed Sneasler in the chest. She crushed the ice crystals with a few strikes of her claws. Emmet used another Ice Beam, this time aiming at her feet. Ice covered Sneasler’s feet.

“Shit!” It was much harder for Sneasler to break ice that low while also keeping her eye on Emmet. She struck the ice once and then looked up. Emmet used Ice Beam again. Ice frosted her legs and chest, limiting her movement even more. She wasn’t fully frozen, but it was enough to cause some worry when Emmet ran at her with another Psycho Cut. Unfortunately for Emmet, though, her arms were still free. Sneasler Drain Punched Emmet in the face, making him fly and hit a tree.

With one final head shake, Ingo broke through the drowsiness. Emmet was in dire straits from that direct Drain Punch. He needed to get an opening for them to have any chance at defeating Sneasler. They played defensively due to the difference in strength, but that needed to change if they wanted to win. Emmet used Hone Claws again, and Ingo used Bulk Up. Ingo then charged to Sneasler with Quick Attack. Emmet did the same with Psycho Cut.

The next minute was absolute chaos for Sneasler. She knew they overwhelmed Arceus by attacking with no time to breathe, but to see it in action against her was something else. Ingo switched between Quick Attacks and Drain Punches, darting front to back, left to right. Emmet switched between Psycho Cut and Ice Beam, narrowly dodging Ingo to strike her. Whenever Sneasler hit one twin with an Aerial Ace or Dire Claw, the other would attack her right back. Worse still, Emmet’s Ice Beams kept repairing the ice anchoring her to the ground.

Their flurry of attacks dented Sneasler’s health, but her endurance and noble strength kept her upright. After one last Drain Punch, Ingo took a deep breath to prepare his secret weapon for powerful opponents. It was Emmet’s suggestion, where he made a comment of shame for not thinking of it sooner. 

Ingo Screeched. His yell echoed through Eterna Forest, causing several bird pokemon to fly out in surprise.

“HOLY SHIT!” Sneasler, who had broken off the ice from her legs, covered her ears. Ingo’s voice ringed in her ears. With Sneasler caught off-guard, Ingo and Emmet used Drain Punch and Psycho Cut on Sneasler, breaking her free from the ice cementing her to the ground but also making her tumble. To her surprise, she struggled to get back to her feet. It seemed that the twins were winning, but on closer inspection of them, their legs shook, and their breathing was labored.

All three of them were close to fainting.

Ingo and Emmet needed one more push. Emmet ran ahead while Ingo stayed put to Screech. He saw Sneasler’s body tense from the noise, but she continued running to Emmet. Sneasler’s claws glowed white, and she swiped at Emmet, who jumped to hit her in the head. Her attack landed, stopping Emmet’s momentum. She continued running to Ingo, her claws still glowing white. Ingo Quick Attacked into her body. She swung and struck him right on impact.

Sneasler fell to one knee and allowed herself to breathe with her full body. Meanwhile, Ingo and Emmet bounced along the ground from the force. The edges of both their visions were dark, but instead of the darkness overwhelming them, it retreated.

“That was… False Swipe!” Ingo said as he helped Emmet to his feet. He didn’t consciously pause in the middle of his sentence to take a breath, but he did.

“Alright, that’s enough. We’re done here,” Sneasler said.

“This is… an… early… stop!” Emmet said between breaths.

“None of us… fainted!” Ingo said.

“Are you serious??” Sneasler asked. “You’re both barely standing…! I don’t wanna make you faint!”

“But…” Emmet wanted to refute Sneasler’s argument.

Ingo placed a hand on Emmet’s shoulder. “I understand, Sneasler. We went full speed ahead in our battle, and that’s more than enough.” In truth, Ingo wanted to keep battling until it could officially end. But for the sake of their teammates, he needed to put their health first this time. “Thank you for fighting at full strength with us!”

Emmet nodded. “That was a verrrry fun battle! Let’s fight again sometime!”

“Yeah, yeah… Just eat up please…” Eelektross approached the exhausted pokemon with several oran berries in hand. Chandelure followed behind with Sneasler’s basket hooked around their arms, the basket itself dangling and avoiding any spillage of contents thanks to its cover. They also held Sneasler’s coat on the other arm.

Sneasler consumed her oran berry in two bites and took her basket and coat from Chandelure. “Also, Ingo… Never use Screech again, holy shit. You’re loud enough as is. I saw those two recoiling.” She pointed to the other two members of Team Conductors.

“Oh! Is that true?” Ingo asked Chandelure and Eelektross.

“Well…” Eelektross twiddled his claws. “It was sorta like when you made announcements on the speakers for the first time… It’s been years since I last heard you at that volume…”

“I apologize for hurting you!” Ingo bowed. “I will be more careful about using that attack in the future!”

Chandelure shrugged. Ingo began learning the flame language they used to communicate to Eelektross and told their trainer that they were fine.

“It may have been “fine”, but I still want to ensure that our passengers are not harmed,” Ingo said.

Emmet finished nibbling his oran berry. “I still like the move to lower an opponent’s defense.”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Sneasler rubbed her ears.

“So… since the battle reached an early stop, who won?” Emmet asked.

“I did.” Sneasler picked up the twins by scruffs of their necks and held one under each arm.

“Sneasler, what is the meaning of this?!” Ingo flailed to try and escape.

Sneasler tossed the Sneasels up. Chandelure tossed to Sneasler her basket. “We’re going on vacation now, got it?” She slapped the cover off her recently-emptied basket just in time for Ingo and Emmet to fall straight in.

“Bravo! That was an excellent throw!” Ingo said as he shuffled to a more comfortable position in the basket. He grazed his claws across the woven grass, and a bump underneath the bottom indicated it still held the Toxic Plate.

“We have been kidnapped,” Emmet said. He and Ingo felt the basket rumble as Sneasler put her basket on.

“Do you know a… good vacation spot…?” Eelektross flew to walk beside Sneasler. Chandelure followed closely behind him.

“Hm, not really… Maybe I can ask Electrode or Arcanine or something,” Sneasler said.

Eelektross sighed. “Anyplace that’s a change of scenery should work…”

As Sneasler and Eelektross tried to figure where to go, Ingo and Emmet quietly enjoyed the feeling of the basket’s shakes as Sneasler walked. Ingo preferred taking train rides for his vacations, and Sneasler’s basket replicating the repetitive motion with ease. Emmet preferred changes of scenery, so he listened attentively to his family’s conversation. Most importantly, however, Ingo and Emmet had peace.

[spewagepipe]

Dev Pipeline: Firmament and the Red Dragon's Tale

I had told my brother that the Lego Corporation would not get my money unless they took it from my corpse. For my birthday, he pooled budgets with a few other co-conspirators to buy me... not the official Lego product, but a virtually-identical, brick-for-brick knock-off of the kit made by a Chinese company (thus, in his view, satisfying my condition).

From a purely consumerist standpoint, this was an extremely good idea. Two of the 3700 bricks were misshapen, and several unique specialty parts (magic swords, armour, hairstyles, etc) were substituted with default alternatives – but at about 1/5th the price point (before shipping), it's still an overwhelmingly better purchase than the official Lego kit. I can't speak to the labour practices or other ethical concerns, but the knowledge that I might be able to cheaply obtain large quantities of nearly-perfect bricks will be important later in this story.

And yes, this post is something of a product review, but I promise all the details will also bear some relevance to the development process.

If you're into Lego-as-display-piece, it must be remarked that the kit looks amazing – but I'm not, and as a toy, it's quite underwhelming. Except for the largely empty meadow and the totally empty bridge, all of the playable spaces are extremely crowded, cramped, and awkward to manipulate. Only a few of them disassemble in ways that offer better access, and they are almost all constructed to be accessed from the side (like a dollhouse), which means that foreground objects obstruct background ones, and it's hard to apply the downward pressure needed to anchor a figure to the floor studs.

It's not an accident, apparently, that traditional dungeon crawl games used a top-down perspective for mapping. Thanks to gravity, most objects rest against the floor of a dungeon, and relatively few things are suspended in the air – so foreground occlusion is less frequent if you view the dungeon from above. Regardless, I also made note of the fact that spaces in a physical model need to be large enough to accommodate fingers and hands in between the walls, furniture, and figurines.

Finally, the kit also includes a disastrous, plot-hole-ridden, and debatably-broken D&D module authored by Chris Perkins that reads like a rushed first draft. In the process of completely rewriting it for my usual play group, I also converted it for use with Into the Odd, since I can't stand to play D&D anymore. If anyone is interested in that, send me an ask. The results of this little playtest were interesting: while the group agreed with my various criticisms above, they all felt that the physical interactivity of the dungeon module held incredible potential – and that a creating a purpose-built dungeon and system would be a very worthwhile endeavour.

I suddenly realized that the little game I had been designing for my niece actually had a much broader appeal.

[k00319173]

Assemble

Primary Research

I needed to gather some Primary Research for my project which centres around my theme of Religion and Cults with influence from Memento Mori.

Growing up in Kilkenny city I have always been inspired and influenced by the historic buildings throughout the city, most of the buildings are made from the marble city’s famous dark limestone which appears to almost look like a black or dark grey marble, this gives a lot of the buildings a gothic feel. The intricate detail in how these buildings are constructed and decorated shows how successful organised religion is and the importance of the metaphysical and ritual to mass groups of people. Below I have examples of photographs I have taken of St. Canice’s Cathedral, Co. Kilkenny lit up at night. This is one of my favourite buildings as well as a church which is now abandoned which lies only several feet away from the preserved cathedral. Only a few yards up the road in both directions and two other churches and another cathedral, the fact that there are so many buildings operating and more even abandoned shows the true power religion had previously and still the amount of influence it still has.

Kilkenny is home to Kylter’s inn, this building once was the residence of Dame Alice Kytler who was the first woman accused of witchcraft in Ireland. Alice had a series of husbands who mysteriously died causing her to become more healthy, she also had a knack for creating medicines from the local wild herbs and plants. Alice was arrested and kept in the Kilkenny Castle dungeons however she escaped. Kytlers’ servant Petronellla was also arrested but was not so lucky and didn’t escape and was flogged through the towns and burned at the stake. The story of Alice Kytler is fascinating to me as I have an interest in the witch trials throughout Europe and America, I also find the fact that the take over of Christianity in Ireland caused old pagan customs and traditions to be demonised so harshly that women were accused, flogged and burned at the stake etc. as a result of practising an ancient tradition or having knowledge of natural herbs and medicines, who knows what was truly happening surrounding Kytler but the story and pub itself are gems.

Cartoon Saloon are a well recognised and highly accomplished animation studio based in Kilkenny, there are murals produced by the animation house across the city, this one is in an alleyway on Abbey Street, It showcases a girl and a wolf from the animated movie Wolfwalkers, the movie tells a story from Irish folklore and is part of Cartoon Saloons Irish folklore trilogy. Set in 1650s Ireland wolfwalkers tells the story of a young girl Robyn and her father during a period of colonisation in Ireland where Robyn’s father is a head hunter for the towns Lord Protecter who has ordered his men to wipe out the last wolf pack; Robin wanders out into the woods against the towns orders and meets another young girl Meabh who is a Wolfwalker Meabhs mother has been captured and Robyn sets herself on a mission to set her free and save the Wolfwalkers. The story relates to my topic as it delves into Irish folklore magick and mysticism. I find it inspiring to see the artwork throughout the city and the success of animation in Kilkenny.

Here I went to a graveyard near where I live, I find the concept of graveyards to be perplexing, it is insightful to see the lengths people go through throughout all cultures to commemorate and honour the dead, I find how the weather ages the graves and creates patterns to be really beautiful as well. A lot of the graves here are leaning and the engravings have been worn away by wind and rain over the years, this in itself is a type of memento mori showing a second kind of inevitable death and how after some time most people will be forgotten, it is comforting to see the attempts to keep these peoples lives with us on our physical plane once they pass on to the astral. For me graveyards are a place of calm and contemplation and I enjoy frequenting them to see the beautiful headstones and patterns and to escape from the hustle and bustle of daily life to a more quiet place that reminds me to stay grounded.

Here is the notable Kilkenny castle, I took this photo of the castle when I was on a boat on the canal in Kilkenny. The castle itself is a beautiful piece of architecture and is rich in history, I could go into detail about many aspects of this but some of the notable pieces to my project are that Alice Kytler was imprisoned here for a short time and also favoured by WB Yeats who was proud of his connections to the Butler family (the dwellers of the castle) and also as a huge fan of the occult very interested in Alice Kytler. Yeats visited Kilkenny and was very informed on Kilkenny history as he was a member of the Golden Dawn and an eclectic occultist. Kilkenny castle is also said to be haunted because of the amount of witch activity, a huge flood on the Kilkenny bridge which killed 16 people and activity from the ghost of Lady Margaret Butler ‘The White Lady (Anne Boleyn’s grandmother).

Research along with Primary Photography for the Assemble project.

[topshelfworlds]

BEYOND THE TABLE: REALITY, THE SECONDARY WORLD, AND THE ROLE OF THE DUNGEON MASTER

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DEFINITIONS

(Primary) Reality – whatever this is, just read some metaphysics or some shit

The Secondary World – the Other Realm, the place beyond Primary Reality bridged by Imagination

The Table – Imagination; the veil of play-space wherein the Secondary World makes contact with Primary Reality

Campaign – an excursion into the Secondary World via Imagination, obfuscated from Primary Reality  by the friction between Gameplay, Simulation, and Narrative

adjudication – the process of mitigating friction between Gameplay, Simulation, and Narrative

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My most recent ex all but annihilated me last October with the contents of an amicable text message. Over the previous few months, we’d been slowly repairing our communication enough to plan cat-care responsibilities. By all accounts, it should have been a completely normal interaction following a breakup just finding its footing: she had unearthed index cards encoded with statistics for magic items her character acquired in my since-canceled campaign from among her effects and buried the small-bore offer of their return for my records under discussion of scheduling time for me to see Mr. Kitty.

I fell apart.

Background

The fantasy adventure campaign the cards originated from was easily the most ambitious – and quite possibly most successful – design of any game I’ve constructed in my near-15 years of facilitating TTRPGs: what started as a weekly Thursday meetup running dungeon crawls by the book for some co-workers quickly became a West Marches game with a roster 12–14 players deep across 2 regular play-groups using a hacked-up mish-mash system I built on the fly week-by-week. The scale was magnificent to behold, our hex map slowly blossoming as the players peeled at petals to see what the flower of this mythic land looked like inside. Nearing a year removed from those adventures, I am proud of what we accomplished to this day.

Session was an opportunity to run from the deep problems festering in my relationship; I had just moved into my partner's run-down, dream project home with her & absconded from any deeper thinking about the friction that had been building over the previous year, instead fixating on clear records of narrative timelines, dungeon excursions, side-quests, character relationships, and world events. When I made time for (free) labor around our changing living space, I permitted resentment to simmer: that my passion – being the best facilitator of this emergent fiction I could – was secondary to the dreams of my property-owning partner. When I surprised her with completed projects from her list around the house while she was away, anything less than her utter amazement left a bitter taste in my mouth. I let slip passive-aggressive moans at never having time for the prep work that made me happy, lacking the insight to realize the game was a shield against the loneliness I felt in my relationship. 

This was also my then-partner’s third Campaign of mine played in 2 ½ years. A stand out from the start, she rarely took time to understand the game outside of session for her natural ability to process mechanics and draw narrative details from thin air; creative writing and an overachieving academic streak gave her a leg up when attuning to the role she played in the group’s function. Piloting a campy, edge-adjacent build played with deadly seriousness, she worked from the shadows to accomplish her goals, maneuvering the roster’s characters as means to her ends. I was proud of her for this, the scheming and the side-quests and the subtlety, because she was playing the game and well. I could never get over the gnawing feeling that participating in the Campaign wasn’t her desire, though, but that a sense of duty absent of passion for my interests brought her to the Table; like she felt that playing was important because it was my game, and not because she was having a good time. I could never tell if she was having a good time.

When my partner and I separated last April, I disbanded the company of cordial comrades who attentively arrived to each session, oathsworn that our jaunts through The County of Blunderburry in Esterdale would continue at another time; The Secondary World moved and changed even when our minds’ eyes were occupied, I insisted, and each future visit was a promise of new ideas, of change. It wasn’t until months later that I let on to some of the game-regulars the real reason why I called our grand adventure off, well after I had found temporarily stable ground post-life-collapsing-around-me. 

Judgment

In the fallout of the breakup and upkeep of coordinating kitty care, I had completely forgotten that she had the cards, physical cues marking her in-game possession of the artifacts statted on them. Rather than answering the inconsequential question raised for me of the cards’ fate, I fell headlong into debilitating anxiety catalyzed by months of emotional turmoil, seeing past the oversight in my facilitation to the now-painful memories of hours spent at the table reaching into the Secondary World with her. My binder stuffed with dog-eared notes chronicling the escapades of the roster had gone untouched in months for the same reason; confronting the hurt inside those records of her achievements in my game was something I was not ready to bear.

I agonized over the “right” answer to her offer, begging myself to conjure something satisfactory to my principles. The way I understood the scenario, there were 2 outcomes:

• I take the cards

• She keeps the cards

These outcomes were further layered by the intentions associated with the choice:

• I take the cards...

… because they are sentimental to me … because unique items should not have duplicates … because I did not want her to throw them out

• She keeps the cards...

… because I want her to deal with them … because their existence is painful to me … because… because…

I had very little to lose, and I knew it: the items’ information – two magic swords with dragon-slaying enchantments – had been recorded in my binder upon their looting, reducing any stakes of the outcome to whether it would keep me up at night. People-pleasing tendencies reared reliably thrashing maws at my principles, insisting through self-sabotage that my only priority was to act without spite or resentment. I was frozen by this weightless decision resting on my dignity.

So I hit the copium: rather than address this unsettling quandary as the most authentic version of myself, I reached into the depths of my Imaginary Costume Chest and procured the garb of the Dungeon Master. What would the ideal facilitator do? How would they deliberate over such a low-stakes scenario, charged as it was with emotionality? I quickly found my answer and transformed through its adjudication. 

Experience dictates that enlightenment is not a once-and-for-all type deal, Siddhartha wasting away under the fig tree until perfection, weary from resistance, unravels forever. Rather, it is a series of accumulations, moments that shriek across the sky of inner sight, arriving unexpectedly and leaving as soon as you look away. In that moment, seeing through the eyes of the Dungeon Master, the Secondary World was there. The Table rose before me, and from ego-differed I saw what was due: that the fate of the cards should be decided by the player of the character possessing them, regardless of personal desire for the physical symbols. The player-character position of possession is weighty in classical adventure games; treasure is a promise of the play-style, the payout for characters bought into designs of Dungeons, Demi-Hells, and Derelicht Halls. The Truth of the Secondary World hinged on this adjudication: that – no matter what interpretation of the items’ possession I could enforce in later chronicles – the fate of their simulacrum in Reality must be decided by the equivalent representative of their possessor in the Other Realm. Any other choice was a dishonest attempt to twist the Secondary World around my selfish desire for power in Primary Reality.

Erudition

Who gives a shit, though, right? So much emotional effort spent just to decide the fate of some dingy 2x3 index cards pedantically recorded months before. Even still, I returned to the decision again and again, feeling a familiar truth that had evaded my comprehension for more than a decade of facilitation finally coming into focus. In therapy sessions following the breakup, I had confided doubts of my motivations for running games amidst shifting insecurities and self-loathing: that I used table time not as a thought-experiment I longed to leverage against those weaker parts of myself but as abolition of my responsibility to Primary Reality, to my obligations and concerns of a better life for myself and those around me. I doubted my practice, this steadfast duty to my happiness, in fear that it caused the crumbling of my relationship, rather than the tension and mistrust obviously sign-posted in shrinking gaps the farther down the road our time together traveled. 

Cloaked in adjudication, I found sublimity. I was free from expectations of self-importance and righteous grandiosity, unshackled from my self-imposed totalitarian responsibility to be anything other than a conduit for the Truth of the Secondary World. My weakness was leveraged against the fulcrum of objective judgement. Removing my ego from the equation, I found peace in the Dungeon Master’s decision. 

This epiphany is my remaking, an affirmation of my long-held belief in the practice of officiating the movements of the Secondary World; when we gaze into the Other Realm to see what could be, we are afforded the grace to think beyond our compromised persona in Reality to the idealization of our selves. The Dungeon Master’s thankless role is to give what is due the actions of those who brave the dangerous truths inside the Secondary World, moving and changing as it is even when our minds’ eyes are occupied; becoming this conduit, the Dungeon Master is anointed in acceptance of the truths they must bear. For me, just this is it: the idealization of my highest self is purest acceptance, and each orracular excursion across the Table and into the Beyond is an exercise in that action. With hope, I gaze into wonder and oblivion, knowing that the Secondary World is only just outside the scope of reality by the width of a dreamspan.

I sent her a reply with thanks for the consideration. In the post-apocalypse of my anxious breakdown, I coincidentally put my current game on hiatus for the season; sabbatical was spent compulsively plumbing the depths of myself for changes the Dungeon Master has imparted to me with years of practice. Any ttrpg player with some experience can describe at least one moment when the line between themselves and their character blur, the bounds between the Primary self and the soul on the Table becoming too small to sense. These event horizons eclipse the light of our egos, and in the cold shadow we learn where our silhouette overlaps with our characters’. Is the Dungeon Master a projection of my inner landscape, disappearing with ego death? An archetype of acceptance to aspire to, standing parallel to me in the shadow? Only a lifetime can tell.

[thedramasummer]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

19 (as of today)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

115,459….in 4 months (with another 4440 as of today)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

RWRB on AO3 but I started writing Kingdom Hearts, Fullmetal Alchemist and a litany of other things in AIM messages back in the day

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54451198 (the stars are in your eyes)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55120552 (of all the people on hinge)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54270691 (snapshots of you and me)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53698612/chapters/135933751 (5 Times Alex Claremont-Diaz was Bad at Self-Care and One Time He Got it Right.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55339042 (tell me again when you don't have a fever)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why? Why not?

Yes! Sometimes I fall behind, but I always make sure I reply just because I appreciate it. I'm still kind of a newbie writer in the fandom so people responding to my work means the world to me.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Currently, in terms of completed fics, probably forgiveness (can you imagine?) aka Catherine apologizing to Henry, Bea, and Philip. I'd say it's a hopeful ending at best, but it isn't wrapped up nicely in a bow because that whole family dynamic is super messy and it needs a lot of work to make better.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Gotta say it's the follow up to snapshots--paint me a pretty picture, because not so spoilery spoiler--Alex awkwardly proposes without actually proposing and it's nauseatingly cute imho.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't and I really hope I don't. I'm always open to receiving constructive criticism.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

So the funniest story in the world is that I was afraid to write smut until January and now half of my fics are smut, because it's kind of a palate cleanser for all the angsty, heavier stuff I'm writing. I really try to keep the smut light and fluffy and I'm working on stretching out my writing muscles when I write smut in terms of getting out of my comfort zone.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Haven't finished one yet. I have a dungeons and dragons inspired fic, isekai style (Alex and Henry falling into Faerun with look alikes for the rest of the Super Six) that I started when I first started writing FirstPrince that I need to remix and clean up.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I'd be honored if anyone asked

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Why yes. Wrote a lovely one with @cactusdragon517 (: The Joys of Mild Narcissism - MayQueen517, acheinmybones - Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston [Archive of Our Own]

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Gotta say it's FirstPrince. In my pre-tumblr days it had to be Roy/Riza from FMA or Axel/Roxas from Kingdom Hearts.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I started a Hadestown AU and it's kinda sitting in GDocs, hanging because I have no idea what to do with it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I gotta say it's dialogue and setting scenes. It's my favorite to write. I am also good at the analytical/cerebral stuff.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The more flowery language/straight prose. I sometimes am a bit too straightforward and I'd like to be a bit more descriptive in my writing

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I tone check it constantly and double check with friends who are native speakers to make sure it isn't clunky but I love it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

If we're getting SUPER honest...Warrior Cats

20. Favourite fics you’ve written?

My two favorites are the birthday fic (birthday blues and smiles too)--I love the found family vibes from Super Six in the resolution of the fic vs. the hurt caused by Ellen and Oscar respectively. I think I did really well with the comfort part of the hurt/comfort.

Figure Me Out--my demi Alex character study. I myself am demisexual and I see a lot of myself in Alex. Demi!Alex is one of my favorite headcanons and being able to explore his different relationships with different people and how he shows and receives affection and comes into his own is very personal and important to me.

I was tagged by @anincompletelist

If anyone else wants to do it, feel free!

[herdreamywasteland]

You Don't Know What To Say (until the moment's passed)

title from 5AM by Amber Run.

Recommended listening: 5AM by Amber Run, I Found by Amber Run.

Note: I do not allow my works to be copied to another site or translated without permission. Please message me if you would like to translate or podfic my work. I don't own dungeons and daddies, but if I did, Hermie would be fine. Comments and Reblogs are adored, constructive criticism is allowed, and hate or negativity will be swiftly and efficiently dealt with.

Special thanks to @luckyorz for beta reading!

The first thing Anne Love does when she arrives home is make herself a cup of tea. 

Automatically, she fills the electric kettle at the sink and plugs it in. She pulls a freshly washed mug from the dishwasher and places it on the counter. She takes the last sachet of tea from her favorite seasonal blend. 

It won’t be back in stock for another six months, so Anne was saving it. She can’t remember why. Does it really matter?

She tears the packet open and tosses the bag into her mug. The kettle beeps, letting her know her water is boiled. She pours the water, watching it slowly turn pink. 

Her hand is shaking.

The analog clock above the stove is old and doesn’t work very well. The minute hand doesn’t move anymore and the hour hand is slow. The second hand still works, ticking in time.

Anne counts each tick, staring at her hands. There’s blood under her fingernails. She can’t bring herself to wash it away. 

When she reaches three hundred and fifty seconds, she scoops the bag from her mug and tosses it in the sink. She brings her cup to her lips and sips.

It’s too hot to drink, but she swallows anyway. Her tea is gone in three gulps, her tongue screaming in pain. She can’t make herself care.

The second thing Anne Love does when she arrives home is call her father.

She sinks to the floor, her mug still in hand. She types in his number and waits. He’s a marine, he knows how to deal with death. 

The line rings… 

And rings… 

And rings.

Her father’s voice tugs her back into the present.

Hey, it’s David. I can’t come to the phone right now, I’m too busy kicking ass. Leave a message at the tone.

Beep.

Just kidding, it’s still me. Okay, now leave a message.

Anne hangs up. Of course he didn’t answer, he’s on a mission. She doesn’t know where, but Schmegan said it was important. 

She drops her phone onto her lap and leans back against the cabinets. She glances at the mug in her hand. She realizes it’s her favorite, colored pink and yellow with pretty cursive writing that says “#1 Agent!”. It was a gift from Schmegan when he found out she replaced the instant coffee in the breakroom with ground La Colombe. 

The words seem so fake, like they don’t matter. They don’t matter. She’s not a #1 agent. Hell, she’s not even an average one. 

She couldn’t save one kid.

Anne hurls the mug across the room. It hits the oven and shatters. Shards skitter across the floor, some coming to rest at her feet.

She picks one up with trembling fingers. It reads #1. She closes her fist around it, squeezing as hard as she can. Pain pricks through her hand and yet she doesn’t stop.

Blood begins to ooze through her fingers, down her arm. It hurts. It’s something real.

She chokes out a sob. It’s the first time she’s cried all day. God, it hurts. The pain in her chest is something she’s never felt before.

She can’t breathe, her mind racing. She can’t stop the scene running in her brain.

“The temp agency sent us!” The boy with the stupid hat and the cane yells. She’s pretty sure his name is Taylor. The tall one, Lincoln, Anne thinks, says something too, but she isn’t listening. She’s staring at the boy behind them. 

He’s covered in burn scars and smeared makeup. He’s also bleeding. Fuck, he’s bleeding so much. 

Around her, her co-workers continue to type, as though nothing has changed. She can’t stand up. She feels calm, but it’s not real. Her fear, violent and bubbling, is forced down. 

The people are supposed to be here. 

It’s fine.

Except, it’s not.

The bleeding kid is coughing. Anne thinks he’s trying to say something. Blood is flowing past his lips, gushing freely from his chest. Lincoln kneels and frantically tries to stop it.

Assess the situation. Stop the bleeding. Stabilize the patient. Call for help.

Her training echoes in her head, almost like a prayer.

She doesn’t believe in God, but she still prays. 

God help us all.

The girl that’s with him screams. Something about a stapler. It shocks Anne out of her trance. She grabs the stapler on the desk beside her and tosses it to the girl. 

Anne can move now.

She runs to them. Oh God, they’re just kids. They can’t be older than her daughter. She collapses to her knees, next to Lincoln. 

He’s clutching his friend, blood soaking his clothing. Tears are streaming down his face, his eyes glazed over in shock.

Anne presses her fingers against the injured boy’s neck, but she knows it’s useless. There won’t be a pulse. You don’t survive getting shot in the heart like that.

She hears a raspy breath behind the two teens. She looks over and sees another boy covered in burn scars. She crawls to him.

He’s alive.

Against all odds, this boy is alive.

“I need some help over here!”

As though her words are magic, the office suddenly comes alive. There’s shouting and people talking into phones. A man kneels next to her. She thinks his name is Thomas.

“Is he…”

She nods tears on her face.

“But this one’s alive. Get help.”

Thomas squeezes her shoulder and stands up. She can hear him bark an order to someone. She’s so relieved someone other than her is in control. She turns to Lincoln. 

“What’s his name?”

“Normal.”

Anne grips Normal’s hand, stroking it gently. His eyes are open, watching her. Tears are cutting through the dirt on his cheeks.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

He stares, saying nothing.

“Stay with me, buddy.” 

She reaches up and brushes away a strand of hair on his forehead. She presses her hand to his skin, her motherly instincts fighting to the surface. She just wants to make it better.

There’s a rasping from Normal. He’s trying to say something.

“Talk to me, baby. What is it?”

“...I’ll never know if he meant it.” He inhales raspily before closing his eyes. Anne can’t breathe. She’s probably crying, but she can’t tell. He’s still breathing. That’s enough for now.

Anne sits up, turning to the girl. She seems to be the most lucid out of all of them.

“What’s your name?”

“He’s dead.”

Anne stands, stepping closer to the girl.

“I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

“Scary. Why’d he die?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“His name was Hermie. Herman Unworthy.”

Scary starts to sob. Anne opens her arms, offering herself to the girl. Scary steps forward, her boots dragging against the ground. She collapses against Anne, sobs racking her skinny body.

Anne pulls her close, an arm around her waist, a hand pressing Scary’s head against her chest. She reaches out to Taylor. He steps forward, pressing his face to her shoulder. She rocks both kids back and forth, wishing she could do something more.

God, they’re just babies.

Anne can’t stop the scream that rips from her throat. 

She can’t remember anything else, just holding Scary and Taylor, desperately trying to protect them from something no child should see. 

She vaguely remembers the cops showing up, ushering her and the kids away from their friends. The way the living boy was strapped to a stretcher and wheeled out—the paramedics looking over the kids, asking for their parents.

Whatever those kids went through, they didn’t deserve it. 

Scary, her hands covered in burns, her arms with crisscrossed scars that are too neat to be an accident. Taylor, fear in his eyes and a desperate look on his face. Dood a kid who doesn’t know what’s happening or why their friends aren’t okay. Lincoln, covered in blood, clutching the body of his dead friend. The boy, Normal, covered in fresh burns, incoherently crying for Hermie.

Herman, dead at the age of fifteen.

Herman Unworthy.

Anne will remember his name for the rest of her life.

The third thing Anne Love does when she arrives home is hug her daughter. 

She slips into her room, glow-in-the-dark stars covering the walls. She sits on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep. She prays that her daughter keeps breathing.

Anne strokes her hair, listening to her soft breathing. 

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened to your hand?”

“...Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Anne leans forward, pressing her lips to her daughter’s forehead. Her daughter turns over, wraps her arms around Anne’s waist. 

Anne holds her close, rocking back and forth. Normally, her daughter would protest, squirming away, but she seems to sense her mother needs this.

“Erica?”

“Mom?”

“I love you so much.”

Anne can feel Erica smile against her neck.

“I love you too.”

When Anne comes into the bedroom, her wife sits up in bed. Sarah doesn’t say anything, just opens her arms. Anne collapses, sobbing.

“I know, I know, baby.”

Sarah doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how to help her wife, or how to fix the pain. Sarah doesn’t know what happened. She’s not sure she wants to.

“I’m quitting.” Anne whispers. She can’t handle another day like this. She can’t save everyone, she knows that, but it doesn’t matter.

She couldn’t save those kids.

The last thing Anne Love does when she arrives home from work is quit. She sends a text to Agent Schmegan.

I quit. I can’t handle this job anymore. Sorry.

She’s left on delivered.

Anne Love curls up next to her wife and sleeps.

[mine-ventures]

I can't tell what setting this Minecraft world has proper. It has a certain medieval feel with thibgs like monsters, dungeons, castles, dragons, hell, magic, potions, constructs and the outworldy end. Yet there are modern appliances, talk about planets and modern concepts. The backgrounds and wordings contradict and don't always fit. It takes a bit from the fantasy and the survival feel base minecraft offers.

Why mix concepts? /gen

CW: Long Post holy shit, I'm sorry I never shut up---

Ok, I wanna answer this question first as a Mun, cuz I think it's my duty to do so! (Imma tell u now that some stuff I'll say in here are pretty much my point of view on some stuff, and they're pretty much my headcanons, so, yeah!)

So, here we go!

Why there are some concepts that doesn't seem to fit in here, you ask, my dear, Anon. Well, the answer is very simple!

Everything is set in a different time-line. I mean, some stuff related in the bios of my characters has happened like, many years ago, even more than a normal human being could live for. They've been here for MANY YEARS.

They're pretty much answering in a more... Uhhh... Distant-not-so-distant future?? Cuz some species can live over 100+ years, and some other cannot die unless killed (Ex. The Undead). Minecraft is a VERY old planet... And is definitely NOT the same Earth we all know.

Earth and Minecraft are NOT the same, nor even the Universe in here. You can view it as some kind of "Alternative Universe" if you want lol

Also, the modern stuff you see, aren't THAT modern as you think. Some stuff are still underdevelopment, like, when humans were inventing the first fridge?? or the first TV?? The first Light bulb??? Idk xD Even the fridge itself, is made out of iron blocks, a well preserved ice block, some Iron doors and probably a dispenser/barrels with some buttons/levers so it'll open lol You gotta use your imagination, bud!

I can assure you, they DON'T see their world as if they're in a game. For them, they live their life as if they are living like you! There's no such thing as "Game Mechanics" or "Game Rules", there's no "Health bar" or "saturation bar" or "Servers" or "Chat". Humans aren't called "players", The Nether isn't called Hell.

They're living their lifes, they're not living a game. Cuz this is not a game for them, as the real life isn't a game for you!:]

Also, another answer for some stuff is also: I've based much of the tale in my very old point of view when I first created these silly OCs and their adventures (And that was when I was 10yo... In 2010 lol)... So some stuff might seem pretty outdated, or maybe they don't make so much sense anymore not only for that, but because I always work in a way where I mostly break the laws of the canon just so some stuff could "make sense" in the universe of this tale... Also, because I find it funny and sometimes I just decide to ignore some parts of the canon so I don't have too much limitations lol xD (If you know me, you know how much I LOVE to break the Canon and make AUs and do stupid shit just for fun and some laughs xD)

But yeah, I'm sorry if everything I said is stupid or at the very end doesn't make any sense... I just want to have the same fun I used to had when I was 11, now that I have the free time to do it!

I just missed my blocky friends and their world :)♥

(Bonus doodle I made of me(?) with my Co-Admin of this Tale[????)

[moxiefuriousediting]

I am really excited to announce that the TTRPG book I copy edited, Crowns & Castles, is getting a hardcover release after becoming a Gold Bestseller on Dungeon Master's Guild.

Crowns & Castles (277 pages) lets you play D&D as a 4x empire strategy game. You're no longer playing as a single character. In C&C you're in control of an entire realm that you create from scratch, making decisions for its military, economy, culture, and diplomacy. That realm gains experience, levels up, and unlocks new abilities. And you're going to do all this in a co-op, player-vs-player, or mixed environment with a DM who guides the world's narrative and lets you attempt anything you can dream. Choose a race, pick a government and founding backstory, construct buildings, discover natural resources, create powerful artifacts, research and cast continent-spanning spells, spy on your neighbors, sign treaties, trade valuable luxuries, make history, and wage war in a turn-based tactical combat system (check out the free demo "Battle at Shallow Mountain"). C&C can be played at the table or asynchronously one turn at a time. No more worries about cancelling sessions due to schedules. You can use C&C as a setting for multiple simultaneous D&D games where the outcomes of one game affect everyone else in a shared, living world, or simply as an engine to create your own worlds. The system is setting-agnostic and easily reskinnable to your existing homebrews.

There is a Facebook group and an active Discord channel to facilitate finding online games and also to just chat with your fellow players. Working on this book was interesting because it got me thinking about worldbuilding. It offers up various styles of government and societies to choose from, each with their own abilities and perks, making a it a great resource for creating homebrew settings.

Working on this was fascinating, and not just because I had to stick to the Wizards of the Coast style guide. I had to edit things for clarity without changing game functionality. It was the best word puzzle, and I would love to do another TTRPG book, module, anything folks need help with.

[dasozelotvonnebenan]

1. At what point during the story do they meet up?

Aluen and Posh first meet after joining the Priory, Yorg and Valoop first meet after Valoop joins the Vigil (so at the end of the lvl 50 story). Everyone meets each other at the first round of Claw Island.

2. Which of the 3 orders did each one join?

Posh and Aluen join the Priory, Yorg, Valoop and Ruck join the Vigil and Fenquin joins Whispers.

3. Were they all present for Claw Island?

Yes for both rounds.

4. Did they have different responsibilities in the Pact?

Aluen handles strategy, Ruck handles construction and logistics, Posh handles R&D, Fenquin handles intelligence, Yorg handles PR and recruitment. Valoop is the marshall's unhinged friend.

5. Did all of them, only a few, or just one of them go through the dungeon storylines?

Every dungeon is done by at least one of them, but never all at once. Catacombs are done by Ruck, Caudecus' Manor is done by Fenquin and after that it's the commanders corresponding to the Destiny's Edge members involved.

6. Did they chase after Caithe together or was one/were some on the airship with Trahearne during the start of HoT?

The group is very scattered during HoT. Valoop and Posh aren't along for the initial attack, Yorg gets lost and isn't involved in any of the advance on mordremoth. Aluen is with Trahearne and also get's captured. Ruck is with the Ordnance Corps. Fenquin is on Faren's Flier. Posh and Fenquin both start chasing Caithe with Valoop, but they can't keep up with Valoops new magic crystal wings.

7. Did all of them go into Mordremoth's mind? Did an extra NPC get left out or did two still go?

Only Valoop goes into Mordy's mind, everyone else is outside organizing the MoM battle. (She takes Canach and Caithe with her)

8. Who mercy killed Trahearne?

Valoop :,)

9. Did any of them join the Shining Blade?

Fenquin

10. Which one died to Balthazar?

Valoop >:)

11. Are all of them champions of Aurene?

Only Valoop

12. Which one was shot by Bangar?

Valoop.

13. Who was on the airship that crash landed in Cantha?

Valoop

14. How close are they? What do they think of each other?

Valoop tries very hard to not be friends with people, but the others care about jher very much. Aluen tries very hard to hide from the people she considers friends, but they also still care for her. Yorg Ruck Fenquin and Posh are best buddies.

15. Are any of them Aurene-branded?

None (yet. I might change my mind later, I am considering something like that for Fenquin)

16. How effective are they as a team?

Terrifyingly.

17. Are there any that certain members of Dragon's Watch prefer over the others?

Everyone loves Yorg. Yorg is the best.

18. Do they share responsibility at the same time or do they hand it off as needed?

They're all operating simultaneously.

19. If they weren't the commanders, would they still be friend?

With Yorg probably, he is the best. Posh it would depend heavily on when they'd uncommander. Right after season 1 it would probably only Yorg still around for them.

20. Would they pick their co-commander/s over anyone else? Over Tyria's safety?

They are all agressively self sacrificial. They would die for each other, but they would never let someone die to save another commander. They would fight over who would get to jump on a grenade.

[adultswim2021]

Robot Chicken #64: “They Took My Thumbs” | December 14, 2008 - 11:30PM | S04E02

I forget if I discussed the gimmick of this season's episode titles, so I'll do it here, possibly redundantly. They titled each episode so that if you were to sequence them in production order (like how they usually appear on DVD), the resulting list of episode names will spell out a cohesive message. That way, when you buy the DVD, the episodes will be listed in production order, resulting in the pay-off.

This episode felt like it had fewer sketches than most, meaning there was an emphasis on longer sketches with only a handful of channel-change gags or shorties. The first one is about the contractor building the dungeon trap from the opening sequence of Raiders of the Lost Ark. The joke being that it’s silly and doesn’t make a whole lotta sense. Also the contractor sorta got a little too creative vs. what was actually asked of him. This one is decent, basically on par with an average SNL sketch. Actually now I’m recalling sketch where Christopher Walken plays Blofield, and James Bond shows up to his liar unexpectedly ahead of schedule and he has to apologize for the construction going on. This is different enough for me not to be pissed at it. Also the Walken sketch sucks. 

Next is Train Man, about a guy who gets squished by the Subway and must live the rest of his life being squished, for if they move the train it will cause his organs to fall out of his body and he’ll die. He spends his lifetime being a businessman and ignoring his wife and kids. There’s a guitar song that goes along with it. I guess this one alludes to an old urban legend. I don’t know man, I didn’t get much out of this one. 

The next sketch is about Jason Vorhees leading a boring life of quiet domesticity, but he eagerly awaits Friday the 13th so he can go out on have a killing spree. This one is fine, I guess, but the premise is faulty. I am pretty sure Jason doesn’t care about the actual day he kills people. This MF would kill on Talk Like A Pirate Day if he felt like it. And he should! 

You see, I wrote the joke “this MF would kill on ____ if he felt like it” and that’s what I came up with. Sorta low-hanging fruit. I could’ve gone with something edgier, like my birthday. Can you imagine bad stuff happening on my birthday? People wouldn’t be able to say “happy birthday” to me. This is the saddest thing I can think of right now!

Wildman is a sketch where kids are persuaded by one of their mothers to go swimming instead of cooping themselves up playing video games. She’s helped along by Wildman, a kid-friendly “outrageous” rocker whose advice gets preachier and lamer. The kids become disillusioned with Wildman, who doesn’t seem all that wild to them any more. The final gag is Wildman departing with a message against gay marriage. This one’s decent, too. Not mad at it! Wildman is voiced by Sebastian Bach, and he gives an great performance.

The final sketch is Bring A Sidekick to Work day, which is a bunch of lame riffs on DC Comics heroes being lads with each other. Sebastian Bach voices Martian Manhunter in this one, which was a little surprising to learn. The Robot Chicken crew have said in one of the few audio commentary tracks I listened to that when they get a guest star, they typically have them voice three different voices. Usually it’s obvious, like when you have somebody like Keith Crawford voicing a doctor. According to the wiki, this sketch was co-written by Geoff Johns, a guy whose name I’ve seen on DC comics before.

I’d call this one slightly stronger than most Robot Chickens, but I am very tired of sketches where Superheroes are horny. Just knock that shit off. All of them retain their semen, or have been chemically castrated as ordered by a judge. Sorry, I’m a stickler for this sort of thing.