#he just vanishes from the narrative after his dungeon-

[kumakuma-circus]

y'know my friend pointed it out once and it is kinda weird to me: why is mitsuo's boss theme (revelations: mitsuo/shin mitsuo tensei) in golden based on i'll face myself -battle- and not a new world fool (or a more generic boss theme like reach out to the truth)?? only party members' shadows and marie/kusumi-no-okami use that theme- i guess you could argue it's just the theme for shadows as a whole since mitsuo's the only non-party member whose shadow you fight (ignoring adachi technically being his shadow also-) but. weird choice i feel like-

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 7 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

It was strange. After reuniting with the system through Jinwoo, it continued to address you as "Trial Player," but something had changed. No more quests appeared, and it never responded when you tried to access your status screen. It was as if the system's more tangible functions had vanished. However, it still spoke to you— chiming in with its usual comments and banter, , but there was an undeniable distance between the system’s functionality and its conversations with you now.

You’d debated for a while whether to show Jinwoo more of your powers, especially the ones you kept hidden. This time, the system seemed to encourage it, nudging you here and there, still within the boundaries it had set, but you were the one who hesitated. Maybe it was guilt. Or maybe, it was gratitude.

Whatever the reason, you felt the need to open up.

But only if Jinwoo asked first.

---

You didn't expect to be here, in the depths of yet another C-rank dungeon, fighting alongside Sung Jinwoo and his shadow soldiers. It felt as though the system had decided to twist the narrative again. The access to C-rank dungeons, something Jinwoo originally sought by partnering with Jinho, keys of its instant dungeon version were suddenly dropped into his lap the moment you joined his party.

It was unnerving. You screamed internally whenever you thought about how the system was changing things simply because you were here. It felt like a cosmic joke, one that you couldn’t quite laugh at.

Still, you kept your composure, thankful for leveling up your <Act> skill. Otherwise, your unease might have been more obvious to Jinwoo, who was already watching you with quiet intensity. He hadn’t asked much, but his sharp eyes were always on you. Every little move, every spell you cast, every flutter of your butterflies—he didn’t miss a thing.

Today was no different, except for the massive Hydra that stood in your path.

"Of course, a Hydra," you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than anyone. You had encountered one before, in another world, in the hanging gardens. At least you knew what to do.

The Hydra roared, its heads writhing as Jinwoo leapt into action, shadows swarming around him. His movements were fast, precise, cutting through the creature with ease, but each wound healed almost instantly. Frustration began to build in his expression as the heads regenerated, one after another, no matter how many times he severed them.

You let him take the lead, silently sending out your butterflies to survey the battlefield. They fluttered around the Hydra, hovering near its wounds. You knew this creature well enough to know how it worked. Regeneration was its strongest weapon, but also its greatest weakness—if you knew how to handle it.

As the battle dragged on, Jinwoo began to notice something. The Hydra’s regeneration was slowing down. Each time a head was severed, it took just a bit longer to grow back. His eyes darted between the butterflies and you, a question forming in his mind, though now wasn’t the right time to speak it out loud.

One of the Hydra's heads lunged at Jinwoo, faster than the others. He dodged, but not quickly enough, and found himself momentarily caught in midair. Multiple heads reared up, preparing to strike from all sides.

That was your cue to step in.

Before they could reach him, the Hydra convulsed, its heads jerking back as if struck by an invisible force. Its body shuddered, and thick, black poison oozed from its open mouths. Seconds later, the massive beast collapsed in a heap.

Jinwoo landed gracefully, turning to you, his expression unreadable. “What did you do?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity.

You took a deep breath, readying yourself for the explanation. "My butterflies play a part," you began, gesturing toward the glowing creatures still flitting around the Hydra’s corpse. "They help me resonate with the target. In this case, the Hydra's regeneration was a biological process, and I used my power to disrupt it."

"How?" Jinwoo’s gaze was steady, his interest piqued.

"By speeding up its cell cycle," you explained. "Every cell has a lifespan. The faster they divide, the faster they die. I forced the Hydra’s cells to reach the end of their life faster than they could regenerate, step by step. Eventually, it couldn't recover fast enough."

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly. "And how did you kill it?"

You met his gaze, knowing this part would need a bit more explanation. "I accelerated the production of its poison. The sack that holds the venom was overproducing without increasing in size, which caused it to rupture. The poison had nowhere to go, so it began flooding its body.”

So, it drowned in its own venom.

He raised an eyebrow at that, clearly intrigued. "So, you can manipulate any biological process?"

"Not any," you admitted. "I need to know the structure of the enemy’s body first. It’s not something I can do blindly."

Jinwoo seemed to consider your words for a moment before asking, "Have you fought a Hydra before?"

You hesitated, careful not to reveal too much. The system chimed in at the back of your mind, warning you not to stray too far from what was allowed. "Yes," you said carefully. "Once. In another dungeon."

There was a brief silence as Jinwoo processed that information. His expression remained neutral, but you could see the gears turning in his mind. He wanted to know more, that much was clear, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he simply nodded. "I see."

You were grateful for the system’s guidance, keeping you from saying too much. Still, Jinwoo’s silence unnerved you. He was always calm, always composed, but you couldn’t help but wonder what he was truly thinking.

He didn’t say anything else as the two of you made your way out of the dungeon. His face gave nothing away, but you knew this was far from over. The more you revealed, the more questions he would have.

And yet, as unnerving as it was, you found a strange comfort in his curiosity. Maybe, just maybe, it was nice to finally have someone who wanted to understand you.

---

Jinwoo had always been observant, and it didn’t take long for him to start piecing things together about you and your butterflies. He didn’t pry too much at first, but you could tell he was forming his own conclusions.

The butterflies were more than they seemed. It was obvious to him that they were some sort of summons, which meant you weren’t just a healer—you had to be a mage as well. A hybrid. Something rare, if not completely unheard of. But then again, he himself was an anomaly in the world of hunters, so perhaps it wasn’t too surprising that you were too.

Still, there were aspects of your abilities he couldn’t quite figure out, and after a few raids together, he finally asked.

It was during a break between fights, his shadow soldiers standing idle while your butterflies fluttered around them. Jinwoo watched, his gaze following their movements carefully before he finally spoke up.

“What exactly do they do?” he asked, his voice steady. “Your butterflies.”

You weren’t surprised by the question. You knew it was coming sooner or later. As always, you waited for him to ask before you explained anything. You turned toward him, meeting his eyes before giving your answer.

“They work on the basis of ‘life,’” you said slowly, trying to explain it in terms he could understand. “Not just mana. Life is a distinct force, and my butterflies draw from that. When they surround an enemy, they drain that life force, weakening them. That energy is then transferred to our allies—in this case, your shadow soldiers—in the form of boosts and heals.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So they drain life even from the dead?”

You nodded. “To an extent. Freshly killed enemies still emit some life force, but it’s limited. The real power comes from living targets.”

He took in that information, but you could tell it wasn’t the whole of his curiosity. After a moment, he asked again, “And the confusion they cause?”

“They emit a type of energy that wraps around the enemies’ minds,” you explained. “It creates illusions, distorts their senses, making them easier to take down. The draining of their life force makes this easier, weakens their resistance. But the stronger the enemy, the harder it is to affect them.”

Jinwoo processed that with a calm nod, but his gaze flickered toward his shadow soldiers, who were still surrounded by your butterflies. His expression shifted slightly, a protective tension in his stance as he asked his next question.

“They’ve been near my soldiers a lot,” he said, his voice tighter now. “What are they doing when there are no enemies around?”

You understood his concern immediately. You were protective of your butterflies, just as he was protective of his shadows. The two forces had been interacting closely during battles, and it made sense for him to be more cautious now that he knew what your children were capable off.

“They’re not draining anything from your soldiers,” you assured him. “They’re sentient enough to know the difference between allies and enemies. They won’t harm your shadows. In fact…” you hesitated for a moment, glancing at the red child that hovered near Igris. “I think they’re drawn to them.”

“Drawn to them?” Jinwoo’s brows furrowed slightly.

“I’m still trying to figure it out myself,” you admitted. “But I think it’s the nature of your shadows. They’re not exactly alive, but there’s a strange energy there. My butterflies seem… curious. They like being near them, but they won’t harm them. I promise.”

Jinwoo’s expression didn’t change much, but you noticed a slight shift in his posture. He seemed less tense, less guarded, though he was still processing everything you’d told him.

“They obey you?” he asked, his tone softer now.

“Completely,” you said firmly. “They’re my creations. They won’t act against my will.”

He seemed to accept that, though you could tell he was still intrigued, still trying to wrap his head around the mechanics of your power. He gave a small nod, his eyes returning to the butterflies as they fluttered peacefully around his shadows.

As ever, Jinwoo’s face didn’t reveal much, but you could sense the subtle easing of tension between the two of you. He was still fascinated by you—perhaps even more so now—but for the moment, at least, he seemed reassured.

The partnership continued, and while his questions weren’t over, you couldn’t help but feel that, little by little, you were gaining Jinwoo’s trust.

---

The battle with the giant had been exhausting, dragging on far longer than either of you expected. Despite Jinwoo’s overwhelming strength and the power of his shadows, the sheer size and resilience of the giant made every blow feel like a drop in an ocean. The creature’s endurance was staggering, each wound seemingly insignificant compared to its massive frame.

Jinwoo pressed on, keeping the pressure on the giant. His shadows flanked it, landing blow after blow, but it wasn’t enough to break through. You observed for a while, assessing the situation, and then you stepped in.

You raised your hands, eyes narrowing as you focused on the giant's movements, its wounds, and the slowing rhythm of its defenses. You channeled your energy into casting the spell, watching as the giant’s already open wounds began to fester, the flesh darkening as your magic took effect.

After the giant collapsed, Jinwoo turned to you, his eyes sharp, the question already forming on his lips. You knew it was coming, just as you always did.

“Why didn’t you do that from the start?” he asked, his tone steady but laced with curiosity.

You took a moment before answering, gathering your thoughts. “I did, technically. It’s just... it’s more complicated than the hydra.” You gestured to the fallen giant, still smoldering from the effects of your spell. “Generally, decay in organic matter of the livings involves a lot more processes than just cellular breakdown. Different creatures have different weaknesses.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed in understanding, but you could tell he wanted more details. You obliged.

“With the hydra, I was blocking its regeneration—a single process. That was straightforward. But this?” You gestured to the giant again. “Giants have no particularly enhanced regeneration, but there are no weak points like a poison sac I can exploit. The problem is their endurance.”

You paused, trying to put the mechanics of your magic into terms Jinwoo would understand. “In this case, I have to target several things at once. Disrupting healing signals, accelerating metabolic waste production to cause toxin buildup—it’s all about overwhelming the giant’s natural endurance. And that takes a lot of energy, and more importantly, time.”

Jinwoo’s gaze flicked between you and the fallen giant, his expression unreadable, but his attention was unwavering.

“I also have to know how the creature’s body works,” you continued, “which is why it’s easier with creatures that are similar to humans. A giant’s body isn’t too different from ours—just bigger and tougher. But that also means I need more mana to make the spell effective.”

You had a passing thought, realizing you would need to study more on the anatomy of different creatures to fine-tune your magic in the future. There were a few books you'd picked up from the system’s shop during your trial phase, those were looking more useful by the second. And if perchance they didn’t, you were sure there would be some references in the Garden’s library.

As you were lost in thought, you spoke absentmindedly, “Having you here made it easier, though.”

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

You blinked, realizing you’d voiced your thoughts aloud. “I need time and a lot of focus to cast <Decay>. Your attacks created the openings I needed and you also kept the giant from attacking me. Without them, I wouldn’t have been able to make the spell work as quickly.”

For a moment, Jinwoo’s face remained impassive, as it usually did, but then, unexpectedly, he let out a soft laugh. It wasn’t mocking, but it caught you off guard nonetheless.

“What’s funny?” you asked, unable to hide your curiosity.

His laughter faded, and his expression returned to its neutral state, but there was a slight shift in his demeanor, something lighter, more relaxed. He shook his head, as if dismissing the thought.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice calm but with a trace of amusement. “Just… interesting.”

That word lingered in the air, and it reminded you of the first time you had officially met him—how he had regarded you then, intrigued but cautious. Now, even with his suspicions, there was a familiarity between you, a shared understanding that went beyond just combat.

You didn’t know if his reaction was a good omen or not, but at this point, you figured you’d find out soon enough.

---

The battle with the rock golemn was dragging on longer than expected. Jinwoo had fought golemns before, and you both knew he could take this one down in an instant. But instead, he seemed to be toying with it, almost as if he were waiting for something.

You watched his movements carefully and sighed inwardly. He should’ve just asked.

Extending your hand, you focused on the golemn’s surface. "<Erosion>," you muttered, watching the cracks running along its stone form deepened, spreading as the rock began to crumble. It didn’t explode dramatically, didn’t shatter in an instant, but it got the job done.

It weathered, as if time itself had fast-forwarded. The rock golemn’s sturdy form slowly disintegrate before your eyes. Dust, pebbles, and debris collapsed onto the ground, leaving nothing but remnants of what had once been a towering figure.

Jinwoo approached, his expression as unreadable as ever, but you knew what was coming. By now, it had become a routine—he fought, you intervened, and then came the questions.

This time, however, you didn’t wait for him to ask first. "You were waiting for me." you stated flatly, meeting his gaze.

Jinwoo didn’t deny it. He nodded once, silently asking you to explain further.

You sighed and began, "Erosion is different from the other spells I’ve used. It’s all about weakening the bonds between molecules. I accelerate corrosion, cracks, and disintegration. But with inorganic material like stone, it’s not as straightforward as organic decay."

Jinwoo listened intently, his gaze never leaving you.

"I rely heavily on ‘time’ for this spell," you continued. "It’s more mana-intensive than my healing spells. Organic matter, like living beings, have biological systems that heal themselves naturally. So when I cast decay, I’m just accelerating those processes—making sure the wounds break down faster than they can heal. But inorganic matter? Rocks? They don’t regenerate. So I’m essentially reversing that process, speeding up their destruction."

Jinwoo tilted his head slightly. "And that’s why it takes longer."

"Exactly," you confirmed. "Decay works from the inside out, disrupting life processes. But erosion works from the outside in. Normally, erosion is caused by elements like water, air, or heat, so it takes a lot more time—and mana—to break down something solid like a golemn."

You glanced at the spot where the golemn once stood. “It’s a good thing these golemns are still tied to life force, make it easier to weaken them.”

You sighed again. "To be honest, <Erosion> is a pain in the ass to use. I could’ve just blasted the thing apart with elemental magic."

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow at that. "Then why didn’t you?"

You hesitated. "It’s... not fair of me."

Jinwoo’s expression remained neutral, but his curiosity was palpable. "What do you mean?"

You mumbled, more to yourself than to him, "It wouldn’t be fair... to you."

Jinwoo blinked, taken aback. "What?"

Your lips pressed into a thin line. Your heart felt heavy, unsure if you should continue, but the words slipped out anyway. Perhaps it was guilt, lingering from the fact that you knew Jinwoo, his story, his world—everything—while he barely knew you. His suspicions were understandable. Or perhaps, it was gratitude. Gratitude for his presence, for making this familiar yet unfamiliar world feel a little less isolating. Despite the fact that you were unsure why he kept you around—be it suspicion or something else—he was trying to understand you.

"Look," you started, trying to gather your thoughts, "this spell… it's tricky. It’s not my most effective move, not by a long shot. But you wanted to see what I was capable of, didn’t you?"

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn’t following, not yet.

You pressed on, speaking more clearly. "I'm showing you the limits of my powers. My weaknesses. I already struggle with living beings made from inorganic materials. Things like... the undead, they’re not easy for me to handle."

The words hung in the air between you. It was a risk, revealing something so vulnerable to someone like Jinwoo, who was always several steps ahead. He was the type to observe, analyze, and act with precision. And now you’d given him something that could be used against you.

Jinwoo’s silence was telling, his mind clearly processing your words. Then, in that moment, something seemed to click for him. He might not understand the full scope of your situation—how could he, when your existence was tied to something far beyond this world? But he recognized what you were doing.

You were offering him trust.

A sign of vulnerability, one that Jinwoo quietly acknowledged. His gaze softened, but his expression didn’t shift enough for you to fully read him.

Your thoughts spiraled, berating yourself. Why did you show him that? Years of surviving alone had isolated you. ‘Don’t trust others so easily’ was a bit different between you and him. Jinwoo was still, in many ways, a stranger. Yet, here you were, offering him something fragile—a piece of yourself that he could very well use however he pleased.

But it was too late now.

You stood there, still silently chastising yourself, while Jinwoo turned to the dust of the fallen golemn. He didn’t say anything, but you knew he had understood. Even if you both remained distant, even if you weren’t sure if you could call each other friends, there was now something in that previously empty space between you.

You just had to live with it.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [018/10/2024] - Trust

I'm sorry if the developments seems a bit fast-paced or sudden, considering this is also still a draft. I just want to let all these drafts out before I went MIA again for a few months. College life is hella hectic. T-T

[acourtofthought]

Me again and on the same day, so... I hope I'm not being annoying...

But what do you think about ccity3? (if you have already read it)

I may end up releasing some spoilers, so if you don't want to risk it, don't continue reading!!

I mean, more specifically what do you think about the shadows of Az, Ruhn and Comarc?

Today I saw an E/riel girl saying that the shadows disappear when they (Ruhn and Comarc) are comfortable, so they insisted again that Az's shadows disappearing with Elain is a good sign... I don't believe it's the same thing, definitely.

(But I don't have much context from Ccity, I haven't read them yet. Well, just the third one to see my girl Ness and Az)

And if you've already read it, what did you think of the Bryce&Az&Ness extra, the ending in particular; from shadows dancing to Az humming; of the exact words "could have sworn" being used in both of Az's extras twice;

And the song "Stone Mother"; Do you think it has a "meaning" for the future? I've seen people saying this is about Elain, I particularly agree with something I read about it having some connection to his mother (who was briefly mentioned during the extra)

They distorted a part claiming that the shadows danced with Bryce's cell phone, but that doesn't happen. I've never met an Elriel who played fair, they're always trying to change what was said. (Some said they were very confident after Ccity3, and I honestly didn't understand why)

Well, maybe I'm just super paranoid, looking for a little Gwynriel in every line... lol

I actually feel special to have gotten two asks in a day from you so thank you!!

I think if we were to compile a list of everything Az's shadows have ever done from start to finish in series, we'd find conflicting information.

I imagine there was a time where SJM did not truly know what she was doing with Az's shadows or what she wanted them to do for a particular love interest because she wasn't even sure that Az was getting a book early on.

And I think it's also a bit difficult for us to compare them to Cormac because the way Az's shadows came to him is unique. We're told that they came to Az while he was born in the dungeon, an airless, light-less prison where he learned the language of the shadows and it's difficult to say if the relationship he developed with them is equal to that of those with similar powers. Ruhn and Rhys share similar powers however it's evident that Rhys is by far and away much more powerful.

Az's shadows aren't exactly "him". They seem to be a bit sentient when you consider that he tells us they keep him company, that they whisper to him. He is not fully in control of his shadows at all times, they told him to sleep and he thought on how he wished he could.

I'm not saying we'd want Az's shadows to be swarming and ready to strike like snakes at all times, that's clearly not a good thing for either Az or the shadows. But having them tend to vanish around someone when he tells us they've been his companion would be like a friend who you grow up with start disappearing anytime your girlfriend came around. Wouldn't it be better if his shadows remained but were at rest or calm?

That's not the narrative SJM put out there for his shadows around Elain in SF though. They skittered away from her, he says they tend to vanish when she's around. It's clear that in SF Az is not in a great place so for E/riels to say they disappear around her because he's calm and that's a good thing is a complete contradiction to him thinking on how he's been ignoring her because he's bothered by her bond. She clearly does not bring him peace.

In the same book we're told that his shadows are afraid of the Sun and in HOFAS, we get more evidence that they don't hold up to light very well.

When you consider how SJM often connects Elain to light and sunshine it seems pretty obvious that she's telling us Elain's penchant for those things is not going to compliment what we know of Az's shadows.

She also could not have made it more clear that the shadows responded to Gwyn in a way they never did with Elain. They danced and twirled with her breath, they were content to sit on Az's shoulders and watch when before the shadows were trying to get him to bed, they sang in response to her song (just as they sang in response to Az's humming). Saying they vanish around one female while having them curious and a bit playful with another, even if it's only in relation to her powers (as E/riels like to claim) is still better for the shadows......which are a part of Az but not fully him. They don't need to love Gwyn because the shadows are not possibly mated to Gwyn. But if Az is mated to Gwyn and his shadows have a bit of a thing for her song then is that not an extremely symbiotic relationship for all parties involved?

I'm not even sure Azriel understood the lyrics of the song because Nesta says she couldn't understand them so maybe it was truly just the melody that captivated Az. And the way the melody was described is a lot like the music of the priestesses service.

As likes music.

Gwyn is a singer.

Az himself began humming once the phone stopped playing.

They share a common interest and that's a valid thing to comment on in regards to a ship.

If Az was aware of the lyrics and the lyrics had to do with the Stone Mother legend than I'd hope no one would be trying to turn the words into anything ship related as the legend is Native American and Elain and Gwyn are white. But to your point, it could have something to do with his mother as she is Illyrian.

[mysteryampharos]

Tell us about your favorite character?

i really love dusknoir and ampharos from the pokemon mystery dungeon series, but after playing Rainworld, i can wholeheardtedly say that the base game + downpour made five pebbles into one of my all-time favorite characters! i was gonna avoid spoilers, but ill inevitably speak about it, so ill just do two spoiler-free paragraphs first! and then go insane

for half of the campaigns in the game, i was his BIGGEST hater. i think the order you play certain campaigns in probably affects how you feel about certain characters, and boy, my choice of sequence was NOT doing him any favors. he was like a catalyst to speed up the decay of the dying world, both when it came to the enviroment itself, and other characters. he had without fail harmed all but one character he interacted with by that point.

and then. . i played the last two campaigns. with a few pearl reading sessions prior to going through them, the closer i got to finishing the game, the more my thoughts on him changed. granted, the game DID give me enough clues, but it wasnt until getting to see what happened in these campaigns that his character clicked for me. five pebbles is a surprisingly tragic character, and the dlc makes an excellent use of him to weave a beautiful narrative together with Looks to the Moon. words cannot describe how incredible and life-changing playing this game felt. (spoilers below the cut! dont read if you haven't finished rivulet and saint's campaign)

five pebbles is a rat in a cage. he tried everything he thought of to try and find an escape to the eternal life the ancients condemned the iterators to, and he did succeed in killing an iterator.

it just wasn't him.

so moon dies and is left in a worser state than ever before after being 'revived' by hunter, and now he has a ticking time bomb in the form of The Rot spreading through his superstructure and the garbage wastes like a cancerous plague. he keeps himself cut off from all and any means of contact and with the exception of artificer, is somewhat hostile to the slugcats.

it takes rivulet's campaign, where the rot has almost entirely overtaken most of the can, that his attitude changes. he is still the same as before, but much more. . sorrowful, regretful. at this point in the game, he and moon switch places: he falls deeper and deeper to disrepair while moon starts restoring her functions and communications. he's forced to sit still during rivu's campaign, but otherwise, five pebbles is largely fine when it comes to his neurons or mind.

so when i told you i cried during saint's campaign.

it was already customary. every single campaign after monk, i'd beeline for five pebbles, seeing as he was always involved somehow. so, i climb up chimney canopy as i always do to get to him through the wall, and: there it is. the infamous room

the entire right section connecting to his superstructure is gone. not even damaged or anything: it's completely vanished. and the game makes sure you feel dread the moment you see this. already, not a good sing: but hey! maybe that just fell like the underhang did. theres still another path to go through.

i hate shaded citadel, but its the only other way i know how to get there. still, i took a detour to moon first before going there, since i knew shoreline had a gate! i visited her, and was on my merry way. . until i get to the gate. something is off right away.

the path is different. sure, that's normal in this campaign, but it wasnt like the overgrowth or other snowy areas: the entire structure of the area. . was very different. its like something crushed in. the deeper i go toward the gate, the more confused and conflicted i get. i cross the gate, and the name shows up on the screen..

Silent Construct.

its like things clicked for me a second time, and it was at that point i paused the game just to think about it for a few seconds. Five Pebbles' superstructure collapsed and crushed the ENTIRETY of Shaded Citadel. the only sign of life left was a weird combination of wildlife from the exterior and shaded citadel itself, with barely any rot left. this was both one of the highlights of the whole game to me, and one of the most emotional. theres 100% gonna be echoes here, so im gonna go ahead and look for that: but five pebbles is priority.

this is one of the most interesting regions in the game to me. maybe not the most fun (I HATE THIS GAME'S SPIDER ENEMIES SO MUCH) but thematically and symbolically? second best region. i dedicated half of the time i had that sunday just to find him, and sure enough..

he is in a state even worser than how moon was when she fell to disrepair. a supercomputer degraded to a barely sentient puppet who can't remember much of anything. the only thing that remains is the music pearl hes playing, and if the player wants to,

you can take that away from him too.

is downpour canon? i don't know nor remember! will i consider it canon regardless because this was one of the greatest gaming and life experiences ive ever had? you fucking BET. i love you five pebbles im sorry for calling you a littlebitch when we first met

[yoshilisk]

finished reading dungeon meshi. i liked the ending a lot.

i loved how captain mithrun's story concluded. i'm honestly surprised that i... don't think i've ever seen any fanart of him cross my dash. him experiencing hope for himself after so long of feeling incomplete and wishing he could just vanish entirely was very touching. his and kabru's relationship is great

also really liked how laios and the winged lion wound up being foils of sorts, with food and desires being narratively connected. the winged lion had an insatiable desire to consume the desires of others, and a firm end goal to (hopefully) satisfy itself. laios on the other hand, despite his strong interests, had wandered through life with no real goals up until falin was eaten by the dragon--and even then he consistently made things up as he went, with the only constant being the act of making and eating food together with others.

i had read that some people disliked that laios became king of the golden kingdom, but i feel it makes a lot of sense for the story's themes and was well-established as a possibility long before it happened. aside from his personality, laios has a very arthurian feel to him. his armored visual design, his peculiar sword... and the lion imagery around him pulls double duty, connecting him to the winged lion and giving him a classic nobility vibe. even his name sounds like the word lion (and, considering that in japanese there's only a single character difference between the two--ライオス raiosu vs ライオン raion--i doubt that's a coincidence)

i suppose i could see an argument of, well, how is being a dungeon master bad but being a king is okay? and that's definitely something that a different story might have explored. but in this particular story, the focus isn't on the act of ruling at all. it's on the dichotomy of a safe prison where you get whatever you desire, versus an uncertain freedom where you'll have to work through difficult situations and occasionally accept failure in order to genuinely experience life and joy

[error-404-fuck-not-found]

welp. tales games you’ve done it again

you gave me a story i liked, characters i adored, mysteries to solve, gameplay that was charming and engaging... and then you completely fuckin flubbed the landing.

if you want a review of the Tales of Arise ending that doesn’t bitch about romance being somehow bad and evil, it’ll be below the cut. Obvi beware of endgame spoilers. Note that I haven’t gotten to whatever postgame quests there may or may not be, so I’ll try to keep my complaints to whatever story elements are already set in stone.

It’s probably the single most predictable Tales ending of all of them. Not a single unexpected thing happens, but even so, the way in which all those anticipated events happen is underwhelming and clunky.

let’s take the “vox populi, vox dei” moment where Alphen calls upon the will of Dahna to function as an intermediary to seal the great spirit. essentially... the citizens who are supposedly so intrinsic to this process are barely aware of what’s going on, if that. nobody’s will is united. nobody’s thoughts are bent their way. they all see a lil glob of light leave their body and go, “huh. that was weird. back to cleaning out my earwax, i guess” and that’s that. it has the vibe of alphen swiping his debit card at a walmart checkout and having to ask the listless cashier for his cashback. it feels transactional at best - no heart or soul in it, for all that it’s intended to be an emotional scene tying in all the NPCs we’ve met through our journeys.

for that matter, that scene would have been rendered completely unnecessary had Alphen not tapped into his inner theater kid and monologued in front of the villain before grabbing the Renas Alma. there’s literally no reason he would have made that choice. it’s obvious that was only included to shoehorn in the desired Vox Populi scene. it just doesn’t fit. clunky, like i said.

what would have worked would be if, after his defeat, Vholran scrabbles on his hands and knees madly to snatch the Renas Alma before Alphen can get close. he clutches at it, eyes wide with madness and frustration because he knows if Alphen tries to take it from him now, he’s too weak to stop it happening. and there’s Alphen’s voice, soothing, like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. trying to offer understanding and compassion. Vholran’s too far gone to see it for what it is. he is, at the core of his character, a child having a tantrum. this is no different. he screams his rage and in a last burst of strength, he beats the Renas Alma on the ground over and over until it shatters, laughing and crying and screaming in equal measure. a man who thought himself god, reduced to the level of a toddler throwing a pissfit. given not the slightest shred of dignity in his final moments, because he was offered a way out, and refused to take it. the narrative had no business treating him like an adult with valid choices when he had only ever acted like a child. for that matter, they had him vanish in a flash of light. it’s completely unclear what the fuck happened or why.

hell, they don’t even explain where that field of flowers is, when Alphen and Shionne are released. is it Rena, reborn? wtf do you mean it can be returned to its former state? are we now saying that Hollowing is reversible? is Migal revivable? how about all the others? can anyone on god’s green fuckin earth explain to me how gravity and oxygen worked for everybody on Rena? THEY WERE IN SPACE, CHIEF. most of Rena’s volume was hollowed the fuck out. was the mass just obliterated? if so, where’d the gravitational field come from? is hollowing liquid really dense and that’s why? but judging by the amount of fluid in the puddle that used to be Migal, that’s not the case. it’s fairly dense, sure, but not enough to account for an entire planet’s worth of matter.

i really don’t think astral energy, once drained of a thing badly enough to annihilate it, can be returned like it’s within the thirty day policy. i don’t think it issues receipts. this seems like a load of horseshit, particularly after Mister AlienMan-35 told them the planet of Rena would implode the instant the great spirit was removed.

but if they were somehow teleported to Dahna instead, HOW?????? WHERE’D THEY END UP??????? oh, and another fucking thing: how in the shit did Vholran end up getting to Rena in a ship identical to Alphen’s (which was a 300 year old relic, btw - they don’t make those anymore)? Where’d he get the ship? Last we knew, he was burning to death on Lenegis. But now we’re expected to believe he went out and found the only other 300+ year old ship in the joint and took it for a joyride. and somehow lit this thing on fire too. oh, and don’t forget that he drove that piece of shit directly into the final boss stage which was quite literally in an alternate dimension; Alphen et co had to jump into a portal to get there, and even that was after walking the full length of the final dungeon because they were told the shielding precluded just flying directly into its face. yknow. the way Vholran flew directly into its face. SOMEBODY WAS FULL OF SHIT, HUH

so much about the ending was dumb or fell flat or couldn’t be explained or was outright a plot hole based on earlier dialogue. literally the only part that worked was the romance, so if anybody is complaining about that, you know they didn’t actually use a single critical thinking skill.

btw it’s not a hetcetera if alphen’s bi which he obviously is going by how hard he’s flirted with dohalim

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Yamata-No-Orochi (Part 2) Princess Tutu

Princess Tutu is a must watch if you haven’t seen it. It’s a bit after the MCs time though so she wouldn’t have been able to see it.

The throbbing bass from the speakers sync with the flashing lights of the dance club at Takamagahara. The crowd is thriving today. You can see glimpses of the masses of people in the pulsing of light. They appear like brief colorful snapshots on the floor below your center platform table.

The Romanceable MC contest continued despite the tragic death of Chance. The official narrative was that Chance died bravely defending you from street hooligans, which is horribly ironic, because that was something that you specifically told him not to do. Now Club Takamagahara was holding another Princess Night with the theme of Knights in Shining Armor. Men walked around like living walls of muscle wearing silver helmets, silver studded leather straps and bronze colored leather subligacula.

It was the exact opposite of what Chance’s life was. He was no knight. He would have been the first to admit that. He was on the underbelly of the world as a gang member, the lowest of his kind as an unstable hybrid and even then he lowered himself further, running sex dungeons for money to maintain the balance between his humanity and his raging dragonblood. And he still smiled and he still dreamed of a Hokkaido winter wedding.

Your chest constricts involuntarily.

“Are you going to be alright? You don’t have to be here.” A voice murmurs in your ear. Diamond is the only contender next to you. As a cowboy style performer, he has no need to dress up like a knight. Cowboys, like handsome knights, are just another font of masculine charm and marital fidelity. They work hard out on the lonely trails, wrangling sheep and cattle but they are true and come home to you, their sweet prairie wife. As sheriffs, they run out the outlaws in the town. “

You look up at him, his eyes are a welcome distraction. “You don’t have to be here either.”

He huffs. “Well, you can’t hurt too bad, if you come up with a sweet comeback like that.”

“Why are you here? Armani and Calypso have backed out.” Rumor had gone around that Chance's killing was related to an out of control fan who had fallen in love with you and had used his yakuza ties to put out a hit job and kidnap you. The other suitors didn’t mind losing a little dignity if it meant living another day.

“I used to work at Bliss Hall, also known as the Paradisio. I knew shady stuff went down. And when the gang war came there, I looked down the barrel of five guns while they interrogated me and patted me down. They determined I wasn't involved and let me go. So… if I was going to die of gang violence I probably would have already.”

“So why are you here?” You reach for the glass of champagne in front of you. Even though you were underage, you were already accustomed to the taste of drink and the smell of tobacco. Your high level of dragonblood didn’t let you get drunk easily as the men found out on your first day as the Main Character on this show. Chu Zihang checked the records on that night, and you had drunk two full bottles of vodka before you even felt the slightest bit tipsy.

He reached for his own glass. “I'm still a competitor. And I'm curious how Chance won three star-hearts in a single night. Is giving up your life the way to your heart? It’s a high price to pay and a lonely existence for you.”

Your mind flashes back to Renata and Chance. “I can see why you're second in the ranking. You dress much flashier than Kazama. But you’re no less of a sharpshooter.”

He presses his hand to his chest and bows.

“I don't need riches or beauty. So if you offer me those things, I'm not attracted. When I first came to Japan,  I didn't care about anything.  I felt my life was over. I was just trying to wait until the end and I wanted my life to end. But every time I reached for the end, there was a man who kept telling me no. I should not try to end my life and, even if it looked like my life was over, I shouldn't just take that conclusion at face value. His final lesson was I shouldn't just accept the inevitable death of others. It took a few times to accept those three lessons, but it was what I needed.”

“What happened to that guy? He sounds like a real keeper.”

You huff. “He was very happily engaged when we met.”

Chances eyebrows lifted. “I bet.”

“But I never forgot what he taught me. Chance helped me to speak those words from my own heart and my own experience. It's one thing to learn a lesson. When you teach that lesson to others, then you know it's part of your life. To see him listen to me and put what I learned into action because he loved me? How could my heart not overflow? Chance didn’t just accept his fate. He didn't just give up his life for me. He fought for us to be together. He… he wanted to live. I needed that in a person.” You run your hands over the empty glass in your hands imagining his smooth childlike face, so peaceful in the rain. “How many people are there out there who can look fate in the eye and say… ‘How about no?’”

Diamond reaches over with a champagne bottle and refills. “Oh You need someone who can rewrite the script! Like in Princess Tutu.”

You blink. “I’m sorry, did you just say ‘Princess Tutu’?”

“Oh come on, don't tell me you've never heard of Princess Tutu. It's just the best anime ever!”

You’re speechless. It was like this suave handsome Ikemen had suddenly turned into Lu Mingfei. “No, please fill me in.”

“Okay, hear me out. Once there was a writer named Drosselmeyer, who had the power to make his stories come to life. He especially loved to write stories with tragic endings! But he died before he could finish his final tale, called The Prince and the Raven, leaving the two title characters locked in an eternal battle.”

“After many years, the Raven managed to break free into the real world, and the Prince pursued him. To seal away the Raven's evil, the Prince shattered his own heart with his sword, causing him to lose all his memories and emotions. Without his emotions, he is reborn as Mytho.”

“Drosselmeyer, now a ghost, decides the story must have an ending. He finds it in the form of a little duck, who has fallen in love with Mytho. He gives her a magic pendant that can transform her, first into an ordinary human girl, then into the graceful ballerina Princess Tutu, another character in the story. As Tutu, it's Duck's job to find all the scattered shards of Mytho's heart and return them to him.”

“What's more, Duck learns that part of Princess Tutu's story is that she can never confess her love to Mytho, or else she'll turn into a speck of light and vanish. However, it becomes clear that Mytho wants his heart restored, so despite interference, she persists. She finds a friend in Fakir, a man who is the son of Drosselmeyer who also has the ability to bring his stories to life.”

“After most of Mytho's heart is returned to him, the seal trapping the Raven begins to break. Finally able to feel love again, Mytho realizes he loves Rue, another character – not Duck. Duck also discovers her pendant is the final shard, meaning she must give up her life as a human to return it. She eventually finds the courage to do so, and becomes a humble duck again.”

“Mytho and the Raven battle once more. When the fight turns bleak, Mytho considers shattering his heart to seal the monster away again. Duck begins dancing to show him he must not give up. As she does, this guy named Fakir writes a story about how she never stops, no matter how many times the Raven's minions attack her. They make that story a reality! This gives Mytho hope, which gives Mytho the strength he needs to rescue Rue and defeat the Raven. Mytho asks Rue to be his princess and they return to his kingdom inside the story. Duck and Fakir continue their relationship, even though she's stuck in her duck form. With nothing left to do, Drosselmeyer departs in search of another story.”

“The point is, you're Duck and you need someone like Fakir who can defeat Drosselmeyer by rewriting the script!”

When thinking about a ghost behind the scenes writing a script, it was clear who the Drosselmeyer in your life was. Z had rescued you and taught you to fight so your life could continue even though you didn’t really understand why. You were just like a duck receiving the pendant. But Z also had plans for you. He'd also forbidden you from confessing her love to Ruri Kazama before you even had feelings for him, only for you to meet him and suddenly he’s a potential contender for your heart with a clear connection with your past?

Z had a script.  And falling in love with Ruri Kazama didn't fit. Why was your love interest so important? Who are you supposed to fall in love with? Caesar asked that in a roundabout way. Why did the person you fell in love with matter to him, if he wasn't your boyfriend?

Chance said that Izanami loved Izanagi on a whim, as a hobby, while she used him to help her live forever.  She loved him and turned him into a monster. She needed him, and consumed him.

Z appeared and kissed you after you entered the MC contest. “I want to get to you before those idiots.” He’d said.

He entered the competition only after you nearly gave a star heart to Ruri Kazama. “I know how the story ends.” He’d said. 

Pursuing Ruri Kazama or anyone else would defeat his script! Whatever script Z wrote required that you love no one but him. 

Your hands tighten on the wine glass and Diamond massages your back. It's not that you had no feelings for Z at all, but Z was acting like Izanami, hiding his true intentions while making overtures of affection.  There's only one way to be sure you weren't going to end up a duck or a monster at the end. Force a confession out of Z!

You look up at Diamond. “Thank you.” Your eyes are sparking with something like anger. You felt fierce and wild inside realizing that you’d been led along by this stranger, assuming that ‘keeping you alive��� was good enough of a good ending to your story. But Izanagi was ‘kept’ alive… as a sacrifice to the White King. Until you understood Z’s intention, there was no telling where he was leading you.

You stand up and lightly tap your glass. The host of the Takamagahara lowered the music and all faces turned to your center platform. “I would like to thank you for coming out tonight. I’ll let you get back to your dancing in a moment, but first I would like to award 3 star hearts to Diamond, for opening my eyes to the truth tonight.”

You spoke looking down on your audience like royalty. Standing in your sparkling silver cheongsam, you looked like royalty. Diamond’s eyes opened wide and he hastily swallowed his Champagne before he could choke on it. He had been kicking himself for speaking so foolishly to this woman. She’d fallen into a deep silence and he figured he’d just killed all his chances of a win. But she liked it!

“And I would like to announce the winner of the MC Romance contest. He knows who he is. He has a deep connection to my past, and I would like to explore that connection further. If you’re listening.”

You raise your eyes to the cameras that broadcast your face to hundreds of screens around Takamagahara. Spectators pushed each other to get a good view and the loud hall descended into a deep silence.

You didn’t remember the tune, but you would always remember the words and you speak them, closing your eyes and placing your hands on your heart. “All happiness may be a fleeting blossom in the shadow of the moon, but I am in that shadow waiting for you in a field of those flowers. Won’t you join me? Together we will dance in the depths of Yomi!”

The hairs rise on the necks of every patron of the Takamagahara. Eyebrows knitted in confusion, hushed puzzled whispers were uttered involuntarily. Your words sounded nothing like a love confession, more like a forbidden incantation written in secret by a practitioner of black magic!

The flashing lights suddenly go dark, every large display screen clicks off in a successive wave. You turn around in horror as those screens replace your face with the words “GAME OVER” in bright burning red text!

The words were on every screen in the room. Your eyes scan the room and immediately spot Caesar moving towards you on the left. You quickly descend from the platform and hurry to him. He covers you, sweeping over you with one arm. “Get downstairs. Now!” 

His eyes meet with someone else's, likely Chu Zihang’s. “Don’t take the elevators, he can probably control those. We’ll take the stairwell.” He said.

You enter the beige corridor of the stairwell. It’s also pitch black. Not even the emergency lights are on. The basement is only one flight down and you can see to the bottom. A lone shadowy figure staring up at you with furious red gold eyes. You leap back and try to pull Caesar out, back to the crowd. “No! Caesar! Run!”

Caesar’s eyes blaze gold and he levels the Desert Eagles in the direction where you’re fearfully looking, but then he lowers them. He didn't hear anything, or see anything.

“Don’t! Don’t hurt him!” You beg.

“Z’s here?”

You gasp. “Yes. He’s mad.”

“Then we can talk?”

Your eyes swivel to and fro from Caesar’s eyes to Z’s eyes which apparently only you can see. Caesar still held his Desert Eagles but there was no fear there. “Yes.”

“Alright… Z. You’re running Takamagahara. The MC love contest was your idea right? What are your plans for MC?” Caesar asks. “I get the feeling you don’t have her best interests at heart.”

Z chuckles from the bottom of the well. “This conversation will have to wait. I’m a bit busy with another client.”

You’re shaking so much you hold on to Caesar’s arm to just keep yourself upright. “He’s gone.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he’s busy with another client.”

The door opens, scaring you both. Chu blinks at both of you in the dark stairwell but then he looks at Caesar and holds his questions. “We’ve got a problem. The Uesugi girl and Lu Mingfei have run into trouble. The whole area around the Robuchon restaurant is blocked off and it’s complete chaos. We’ve got to find Lu Mingfei and make sure he’s alright.”

Caesar gathers his arm around you and together you leave the stairwell. “MC, come with us. I don't want you and that Uesugi girl to meet, but until I figure out what Z is… I don’t think you should be alone.”

[shiobookmark]

Binge watching Merlin when you’re familiar with the stories is such a weird experience. I need to vent. 

I have so many problems with the show. They mostly boil down to the fact that there’s an awful lot of character development that drags its feet for several seasons before picking up all at once, meaning characters can seem to never learn their lesson only to make huge strides in the course of an episode seemingly at random. And unfortunately, Arthur is the biggest victim of this. And the show suffers for it. I was doubtful he’d make a good Arthur at first, but mum, who’d seen the series before, assured me it was all in service of his character development. And there is a great arc struggling under there somewhere, but it’s mired down in seasons and seasons of episodic ‘monster of the week’ stuff where Arthur waffles back and forth in his ideals. I know what they’re trying to do but the effect seems more like Arthur is a weak-minded man who follows only what he believes other people think is right. He learns his lesson about this again and again and it never seems to take. The unicorn, the execution at Agravaine’s order, the ghostly child, and just recently the Disir. It’s episode 5 of the final season. There’s only eight episodes left. Yet here he is, prancing into the sacred grove with no regard for the laws and customs, every bit the arrogant jock, much like he did in season one.  It ignores his character development. Arthur knows better by now. Yet for plot reasons all that has to be thrown out the window. He’ll turn on a dime and be forthright and humble a few minutes from now- oh yes, there he goes. How is he still a creature of hindsight? Where was this wise kingly fellow an hour before? Another problem is Merlin. Early on the show really suffered from Disney morality, how Merlin couldn’t be responsible for anyone’s death. Now it suffers from protagonist-centred morality. In the later seasons Arthur just follows along with whatever Merlin thinks is best, even if he resists at first. It’s supposed to show that he’s learned to listen to others, but because he can never make a right decision first time, he ends up seeming more like Merlin’s puppet.

The most egregious example of this is this episode, where Arthur faces a dilemma and outright asks Merlin what he should do... and does it. Which then means Mordred survives and Arthur is doomed. It wasn’t really Arthur’s choice, was it? Not a product of his own beliefs and actions, it could have easily swung the other way. The choice was Merlin’s. How are we supposed to root for Arthur that way? The show’s called Merlin so I understand that it has to follow his perspective, but there are far better ways to do that. Look at the trilogy by Mary Stewart. Her Merlyn doesn’t spend as much time at Arthur’s side, but you could easily write similar stories where he does. Merlyn has his own enemies, his own goals, he loves Arthur and helps him but they are his own adventures. They’ve started calling Arthur The Once and Future King out of nowhere now and it’s weird. Why would people call him that. They have no idea he’s going to die and be destined to return. What the fuck. And it’s not that I dislike the show I actually really like it? It’s got some ‘it’s so bad it’s good’ qualities for the first two seasons but after Richard Wilson (Gaius) finally learned to act with more emotion than a wooden spoon it really picked up. There was good payoff in some bits. Morgana was a bit forced and I could have used a few less false starts with her hatred of Uther (how many times can she almost betray him?) and a bit more exploration into why she hates Arthur other than ‘he’s Uther’s son.’ She loved Arthur until her villain arc what the actual fuck And her actor is terrible but nevermind they all are I just particularly despise the smoozy style she adopts

Uther in general is great I just needed a lot less of him Arthur should have become king at the end of season 1, maybe the middle of season 2. Not season 4. Uther ends up being an annoying thorn in Arthur’s side. It’s a game of ‘what stupid shit is Uther gonna pull this episode and have they beefed up security on the dungeons yet?’ The episode where he comes back as a ghost and Arthur finally tells him where to shove it was brilliant and I loved every second of it. I was afraid it was going to be yet another ‘Arthur doubts himself and reverts to the path of a tyrant before he sees the error of his ways’ episode but it wasn’t, which was nice. They dallied around so much I only really started enjoying the show once Arthur became king. Because there were stakes. We got to see what he was made of. But the biggest problem I have with the show, is the treatment of magic. The old religion had a bit of an image problem within the show itself because other than Gaius and Merlin, no one seems to use it ‘correctly.’ And boy does that open up a can of worms.  But I was willing to roll with it. There’s been a lot more specifically Celtic stuff in later seasons which I appreciate as it certainly works better than the weird grab bag of monsters we had previously. (But what happened to Tristan after Isolde died? He just vanished once he served his narrative purpose.) It’s just as of this latest episode, Arthur is being blackmailed into bowing down before the triple goddess or else he and his kingdom will fall to ruin. And that’s... not okay. That’s the same kind of shit Uther did. It’s Might makes Right.  It’s religious oppression. ‘If you don’t do what we want then you’ll suffer.’ Arthur is supposed to be about Might for Right*. Objectively he shouldn’t stand for this shit. But because it’s the Old Religion ooooooh how mystical and shit, he has to. Because protagonist-centred morality. Why didn’t this happen to Uther? Has Arthur been continuing the executions? Has he been encouraging the hunting down of Sorcerers? We know he goes after the dangerous ones, but is his ‘outlawing’ of magic a ‘supporting them under the table’ sort of deal or is he as ruthless as Uther? We don’t know. And now that the show has committed to specifically the Triple Goddess branch of paganism rather than just vague mostly made up stuff with a Celtic ‘flavour’ it has some really nasty real world connotations. We’ve never seen benevolent magic users outside of Merlin and Gaius, or if we did they died. The Druids are sometimes around but they’re more like plot devices for when the show needs some wise and pacifistic victims. It’s really uncomfortable. They’ve just doomed Arthur by having Mordred live, because he refused to embrace magic. Or as I’d put it: Because he refused to bow to tyranny. Arthur promised to make life better for magic users and he broke that promise. Taking him to task for that is more than okay. Have the Druids do it. Have them demand recompense and then let Arthur do what he does best: Forge alliances.  We’ve seen him do this. We’ve seen him face up to the consequences of his hasty and violent actions before, we’ve seen him behave with grace and humility and turn enemies into friends. It’s what makes him a good Arthur. Instead we’ve got this crap that’s supposed to be about not defying the natural laws of the world, but because it’s specifically a religion it’s just really gross. And finally, Mordred. What even is his deal. He’s given a pisspoor reason to hate Merlin way back in season 2 or something when Merlin trips him up with a tree root to hopefully get him killed by the pursuing knights because he’s destined to kill Arthur And somehow that’s supposed to be a grudge he holds into adulthood. But grown up Mordred seems a nice fellow, he’s put all that behind him. And he’s supposed to be Arthur’s doom. This is going to be rushed as all hell isn’t it? The problem is Mordred was never given a legitimate grievance to replace the one he lost when he stopped being related to Arthur. Going the incestuous bastard baby route isn’t necessary since it’s actually a modern addition, but having Mordred be Arthur’s cousin might have worked just as well. The problem is Morgana has taken all that over. What I would do is have Mordred be Merlin’s character foil. A sweet kid who grew up with the Druids and becomes a Knight because he, like Merlin, believes he’s destined to do great things. But he makes the opposite choices to Merlin about magic. He’s open about his beliefs, hoping to find understanding and instead Arthur rejects him. He looks for support from Merlin but finds none. He swears to hurt Merlin however he can as a traitor to their kind. And the best way to do that is to kill Arthur.

Bonus rant: Lancelot is boring. I like his actor, he does the noble and handsome bit right but his character has no texture or grit to him. Give me TH White’s ugly angst muffin any day. The Lancelot/Guinevere romance subplot was lame as hell and it only really delivered when Guinevere was enchanted into having an affair with his ghost. I prefer to think there was no enchantment but gotta keep things squeaky clean. Guinevere can’t just love two people simultaneously I guess, gods dammit.

It’s Arthurian legend with all the edges sanded down smooth and a lot of pacing problems.

[vitalpen]

An alternative to the Change of Heart in Persona 5

So a while back I made a post about a criticism I had for Persona 5, a game that I absolutely love but do not believe is above criticism.

Now I’m playing Royal and falling back in love with everything (especially the sheer amount of work they put into setting up Makoto’s character, it’s so fucking great).  But I want to talk about the change of heart for a second.  Because I think as a core mechanic for the narrative, it has some issues.  And as the entitled, presumptuous human that I am, I think I can create a better alternative.

Spoilers under the cut

At the start, stealing of hearts sounds great, it’s a nice motif to go off of the public opinion angle and the idea of hearts as the location of the dungeons.  But as the story goes on, there are points where it gets to feeling kinda like a magic wand. It’s like "oh they confessed everything, it's all okay now" in some situations where it certainly is not okay (lookin at you, disturbing sidequest in Futaba's social link that I really hope they fixed or got rid of).

Along side that, it also brings up an issue in the boss encounters, most evident with the first one.

SPOILERS: Kamoshida is the best villain in the game.  No one else hits the tier of scum that he does.  He is the only one that you genuinely want to die by the end.  I just beat him again in P5R, and they found new ways to make it even worse.  I think a lot of this is owed to the fact that there isn’t any new revelations about his depravity which could risk feeling tacked on.  You pretty much get it all right from the get go.  Alongside this, you’re dealing with him directly the entire time he’s a problem, he’s at your school and has a direct hatred towards you specifically.  You are also at your most powerless and vulnerable at this point.  All of this adds up to a villain that I, as a teacher, would personally volunteer to throw the switch on the electric chair for.

So I cannot quite describe my frustration when I see him have a tearful moment of regaining his conscience and peacefully fading away. The emotional blueballs when he confesses, crying and remorseful is unholy. Now I know that I speak from personal opinion, but I don’t think the tearful confessions work as the emotional payoff.  Why?  Well there’s two reasons mainly.

When I saw Kamoshida on the stage, confessing to the whole school, I couldn’t help but feel that the wrong character was doing it. The mind control (don’t @ me) that’s at play doesn’t just take agency away from the character, it changes him into a different character entirely.  I didn’t want to see weepy, self-pitying Kamoshida deal with consequences, I wanted high-horse, hypocritical, smug Kamoshida.

You may notice that nobody else actually spoke up when Ann bitched him out.  Despite the number of abuse victims that were in that room, no one else talks.  

The Change of Heart takes away the original root problem but does nothing to address the ripples that the problem made.  Outside of Ann, Ryuji, and Shiho, the Kamoshida thing is basically treated like it never existed, no other students are ever checked up on.  They all just get better instantly.  Mishima’s and bandage instantly fucking vanish and he didn’t have the worst of it.  Some of those volleyball members were wearing casts, that doesn’t heal in a single day.

I talked about P5 having an issue with following up on things in that other post, and this absolutely falls into that category.  They have the Councilor now, which is an awesome thing to include, but much like how Ryuji treats the school’s intentions on the whole thing, it feels like Atlus putting a band-aid on a bullet wound because they had to.

All of this speaks to a lack of agency, both in the villain and in the victims (outside of your party at least).  So how would I fix it?  Instead of a Change of Heart, I would have preferred a Removal of Authority.  When you take the treasure, you drastically reduce that person’s influence over others.  

Let’s go back to Kamoshida.  Taking away his influence would give everyone a moment of clarity to what they’re doing, realizing exactly how royally (ha) fucked up the situation is.  Then students start to speak up in droves. The entire former track team, the volleyball team, even former students that had since graduated.  It gets so big that Kamoshida can’t contain it.  He tries to rage against it as much as he can, but finally, he can’t anymore.  At that point, the moment of clarity is forced upon him, his delusions disappear, and THEN he can have that Change of Heart and break down crying.

I think this does a couple good things.

1) It puts agency into the hands of the victims.  It empowers everyone else who was hurt, not just the main characters

2) It allows for a more believable outcome to a lot of stuff in that game without just saying “they’re all better now” (once again looking at you disturbing sidequest in Futaba’s social link).

3)It turns the game’s message from just a simple “rebel, fight the man” to “you have the power to change the world, together” which is something I think we all need to see right now

4) It provides an awesome alternate reality where elected officials are held accountable for their actions.

Alternatively

Just show us the person as they’re having the change of heart.  Don’t give us a before and after, let us actually see them being forced to realize what they’ve been doing.

[thedungeonsbat]

Muggle Love (Chapter 12)

A/N: This is shorter than usual but I hope you still like it. Also, credit to @obviously-best-potions-master for our dear owl's name.😊

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Chapter 12

The lunch with your dad on Sunday went fine. He told you what's new back home, how's your mother doing and all. He made some jokes and you had a nice laugh. For some time, you were able to get Severus out of your head. You did like him but lately, he has been intruding your thoughts way too much. Especially when you sat down to relax. You kept wondering if it was too soon to write to him and the argument had continued.

Apparently, Severus' owl didn't have a name so you decided to name him. Erebus. Surprisingly, he began answering that name though it took 4-5 days. He was grumpy as ever but now he did not resist you petting him. You were hopeful that maybe someday he'll show some signs of affection too.

Just another evening you were chilling with Carl and Holly. They were talking about things you didn't pay attention to. You kept looking out of the window, wishing Severus would pop out of some corner.

Holly excused herself as she was running late for her work. Carl turned to you but you did not notice. He waved his hand in front you and you snapped out of your thoughts. He smiled at you and asked softly,

"Where are you lost (Y/N)?"

"Oh, nowhere. Just thinking." You replied, shrugging.

He turned a bit serious, or rather worried. "Is there something wrong (Y/N/N)? You can tell me because I think you've been acting unusual lately." There was concern in his eyes, he was always worrying that you were stressing yourself too much.

"No, really. I'm fine." You weakly smiled at him but his expression did not change, he was not gonna let go this easy.

"(Y/N), you can tell me anything, all right?" He said softly and slowly. He was so concerned for you and you felt bad you hadn't been sharing with your best friend, the one whom you told everything that happened with you. You had never mentioned Severus, he was more like your own secret world. It was true, every time you had been with him, everything had been very different, very magical. It was almost like you did not want to share him which you felt weird to know. Were you being obsessive?

With a deep sigh, you gathered up the courage to speak, "It's just a guy I know… from back home." you lied about him being someone from your home city but you were half-honest.

Carl furrowed his brows, wanting to hear more about this 'guy' you never told him about before. "I've just been missing him." That was true, even if it was just a few weeks since he has been away and you seldom saw him while he was here, you missed him. You missed his velvety voice that made your insides flutter, you missed his cold yet tender gaze which saw directly through you.

It was as if some realization had struck Carl when he began nodding his head in understanding. "So, Holly was right all along." He said thoughtfully.

You eyed him curiously, "Holly? What did she say?"

"She was the one to notice your different behaviour. She suspected it was a guy, I thought otherwise. Now I know, so tell me who he is." He smirked and you rolled your eyes.

"Oh please, he's just a friend." You said irritably.

He snickered and said, "I am your friend, you don't daydream about me." His mischievous glance was not something you were enjoying.

You scowled and punched his arm. "OW!" He said while rubbing his arm. You folded your arms and went back to looking out of the window, face fuming. He regained his teasing grin, "Ooh, look who's blushing."

Your eyes widened and you glared daggers at him. Your cheeks turned even redder if that was possible. "You shut up right now!" It felt so embarrassing to you, you couldn't maintain eye contact with him.

He pretended to be hurt and made a sullen look. You could not do this anymore, you gave up. As always, he was too sweet to be upset with. You rolled your eyes at him and apologised, "Okay, I'm sorry."

He instantly gave up with the acting and smiled broadly. "So, you telling me about him?"

"Do I have a choice?" You asked.

"Nope." He replied. "Tell me his name first." He said excitedly. You smiled at how childish he was being.

"It's Severus." You said, letting the name roll off your tongue smoothly. Images of Severus flooded your mind. His cold, piercing eyes, his dark hair, black robes and then his smile, the most beautiful smile you had witnessed.

"Severus." He repeated, "Odd sort of name, isn't it?" You narrowed your eyes at him. "No offence, of course, just never heard something like it before." He quickly added.

"He's different." You remarked smugly.

"Clearly." He smirked. You raised an eyebrow, not understanding what he meant. "Only someone different would have caught your eye." He teased.

You would have hit him again but contained yourself. "Go on." He said, very amused, more by your embarrassment than the conversation.

"Well, he is tall, has shoulder-length black hair with onyx eyes." You began the description, Carl was listening closely. "He usually wears all-black. He is this mysterious kind of guy, doesn't really talk much, mostly just listens or lost in his own thoughts. You can never tell what he's thinking. He's hard on the outside, softer on the inside." You were lost in your narrative until Carl spoke,

"Doesn't seem your type to me." He stated.

"What do you mean?" You asked, harshly than intended.

"I mean, he seems like a dark sort of person, mysterious, as you put it and you, on the other hand, are totally the opposite." You were indeed different from him but that never occurred as a problem, you were fine this way. Besides, Severus was not as hard as he seemed but the reality was, he was actually softer just around you.

"I don't know. I told you we were just friends." It was his turn to roll his eyes. It was strange how it was so obvious to him that you liked him but it was so hard to accept it to yourself. It was transparent to him whereas opaque to you. Nothing had been this hard to understand.

"He certainly has had an impact on you, you are acting like him." He complained and you wondered if you really were. He glanced at his watch and his expression changed into an annoyed one, "Wish we could continue with the description but it seems I have to go."

You smiled kindly at him and replied, "It's fine. Perhaps someday else." Internally, you wished you never had to continue this little chat. Somehow, just talking about Severus made you feel weird.

He got up and stretched a bit. He made his way to the door and waved you goodbye but before leaving he said something leaving you wide-eyed in your seat.

"He's not 'from back home', is he?"

You were dumbfounded in your place and he got his answer. "Bye (Y/N)."

~~Meanwhile at Hogwarts~~

It hasn't been easy for Severus at Hogwarts. Remus Lupin, another Gryffindor he did not 'like' had been appointed as the Defense Against The Dark Arts professor this year.

What annoyed him more was that he hadn't received a single letter from you. Two weeks and he still had not seen any sign of his owl. He was disappointed, never in his life, he had longed for a sight of his owl.

Another day passed, Lupin brought a boggart in his class and one of the students took Severus' form. But it did not bug him for very long.

He was seated in the staff room, not his usual place to be as he stayed mostly in the dungeons. There was only Professor Sprout there to accompany him. She was on the verge of leaving when something began banging the window, distracting Severus from the essay papers he was checking.

"Severus, is that your owl?" Professor Sprout asked cheerfully, which was how she always remained. She was the Head of the Hufflepuff house after all. Severus grunted and looked at the window and it was indeed his owl with a letter tied to its feet.

Severus did not reply to Professor Sprout and walked towards the window and opened it, letting the owl in. It was a great relief to see you had finally written to him and all of his anger just vanished away, though he did not show any change of expressions due to her Sprout's presence.

She smiled broadly at him, a bit excited to know who had owled him. Anyone would be curious to know who that person might be as Dumbledore was there at Hogwarts and she could not think of anyone else writing to him. She knew Severus would not be very informative so she left without any word.

Severus gently untied the letter and stroked the owl softly, his gaze fixed upon the piece of paper in his hand.

He sat down to read the letter and carefully opened it. He could not help a smile when he finished reading it. It said,

'Dear Severus,

I am sorry for being this late in writing to you as I could not decide if it was fine to write this soon. I hope you are doing excellent and this letter finds you well. I do not know where you stay but it seems like your owl does.

I do not have much to tell, everything is the same in the "muggle" world. I keep thinking of how things are in the magical world. I'd be more than happy to know if you can let me know about some of the interesting stuff in your letter.

Also, I never asked you what you taught (very foolish of me). I am sure that whatever it is, you are great at it. And you should know that I named owl, seeing that you had not. I call him Erebus and much to my astonishment, he even answers to that name. I hope you don't mind it.

I look forward to your reply and if possible, tell me about your fellow teachers and the school, I can't seem to stop thinking about how fascinating they might be. I am already missing you a lot and wish you could come or I could come over for Christmas. Have a good day.

(Y/N).'

Even in the cold staff room, he felt warm. His eyes were shining with numbers of emotions. Even if the letter didn't say that much, it was so much to him. Mostly, he was relieved to know that you had not completely forgotten him. Stupid of him to think that though, you, who thought of him all the time could not possibly dream of forgetting him.

"Erebus," Severus said while smiling at your thoughtful choice. The owl did look at him, questioningly.

He got up after staring at the letter and thinking of you for several minutes. It was unfortunate he had two more classes but now, not even Potter could bother his joyous mood.

He opened the door to leave and at the same moment, McGonagall was entering the room. He didn't grunt or scowl at her, as he usually might.

"Afternoon, Minerva." He greeted and not bitterly, but with a hint of a smile.

Minerva blinked a couple of times in disbelief, "A-afternoon, Severus." She said, her eyebrows knitted together in deep confusion.

Severus gave her a side smirk, only increasing her interest. He walked out of the door, his cloak billowing behind him.

'What was that? Severus and smiling? Slytherin's not even in lead. Potter is in no trouble.....or is he?' Minerva was thinking. Whatever possible reasons she could think of, none of them was anywhere near the real thing. It was you, an ordinary muggle (not to Severus), who was on his mind.

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Thanks for Reading!

Taglist:

@smokindoinksinthejungle

[blazehedgehog]

Say Blaze, you mentioned BotW being in your top five favorite games of all time. Care to share the full list with us? :P

Haha, man, somebody always wants these kinds of receipts. I’ll be honest with you, I don’t really like committing to numbered lists. I never really think of things in that way. It should be obvious if you’ve followed this blog for any length of time that if somebody asks me for my favorite thing, it’s rare that I can actually pick just one thing and I’ll usually list off a handful.

I mean, I’ll do lists, I have some list requests in my ask box that I never got around to answering, but I will do them eventually, it’s just I never think of them as a set in stone order. They’re always floating around to different spaces on the list, depending on when you ask me.

Without looking at anything else, I’d say my top five favorite games of all time would be…

Yoshi’s Island was a very formative game for me. Anyone who claims Yoshi’s Island wasn’t that great is immediately knocked down a few pegs of respect in my mind. The artwork in that game was transformative, nobody had ever tried those kinds of graphics in a game before, and Nintendo nailed it pretty much on their first try.

And then there’s the gameplay. A lot of games around this era were trying to figure out ways to evolve the 2D action game, when you think about games like Astal, Clockwork Knight, Pandemonium, etc. Most are awkward, with mechanics that don’t always make sense, or don’t feel good to use, but I think the mechanics in Yoshi are incredible. Throwing eggs is incredibly intuitive, and the small expansions like the flutter jump and butt stomp add a little more complexity without feeling overwhelming.

I’m also in love with the game’s boss fights. Some people like to complain that “oh, they’re just really big versions of normal enemies, and that’s lame” but they can go jump in a lake. I remember more of Yoshi’s Island’s boss fights by name than I do some entire games. They may be “just bigger versions of normal enemies” but that doesn’t mean you fight them in the same ways. Fighting your way out of Prince Froggy’s stomach, throwing enough eggs to strike Sluggy the Unshaven’s heart, orbiting the moon with Raphael Raven, each one is a puzzle to be solved and a technical showpiece for the system. Gosh, and who could forget pulling off the trick shot with Navel Piranha.

I only wish literally any Yoshi game to follow it was as good. Nintendo has built a legacy of black sheep Yoshi games in its wake, with the only real comparable game being Yoshi’s Wooly World, and even that isn’t anywhere near as creative or cool as Yoshi’s Island, because it’s stuck in that game’s shadow. All the other Yoshi games have been mediocre at best.

I’d probably put the original Half-Life on this list. Half-Life was a paradigm shift for the first-person shooter that really killed the idea of calling them “Doom Clones.” Levels? Scores? Hyper-machismo? Gone. You’re a nerd, saving other nerds. Even now, in 2019, the way this game tells story remains highly unique. Instead of sitting you down for cutscenes and extended dialog, Half-Life is a “show, don’t tell” kind of game, and it builds its mystery from that. You might understand that the crystal from the start of the game is the same crystals you see at the end of the game, but you don’t understand who keeps secretly watching you. It makes for a narrative that’s simple on the surface, but goes however deep as you want to get.

Gameplay-wise, Half-Life goes to great lengths to make its world feel dynamic and alive. There are no sacred invincible NPCs, Everybody and everything is just as fragile as you are (if not moreso), so a scientist buddy may wander in to the crossfire and get shot, and the rest of his friends may blame you for his murder and refuse to cooperate from that point onwards. And then, of course, are the tremendous military soldier encounters. People will go on about how they aren’t actually that smart under the hood, about how Valve lied about squad behavior or whatever, but they’re definitely well designed enough to feel smart. Again, Half-Life was one of the first FPS games to understand and nail the idea that you don’t have to work within Doom’s concepts. Enemies run around, take cover, and use specialized tactics in order to flush you out of hiding. It was lightyears beyond anything, and if you can get past the game’s dated graphics, it still holds up remarkably well.

And yes, if you didn’t pick up on it, I have been subtly crapping on Half-Life 2. It’s also a great game, but it turns in to a bummer once you really stop and think about what Half-Life 2 does differently and what they ended up getting rid of in favor of a slightly more traditional narrative.

Maybe it’s just because I’ve been in that mood lately, but I’d probably put Mega Man X on this list. There’s not much I can say about this game that isn’t demonstrated better in Egoraptor’s now-legendary Sequelitis video, but the short of it for me is that I don’t love most Mega Man games. They’re fine, I don’t really have any problems with them, but they aren’t for me.

Mega Man X is the only Mega Man game I’ve finished without cheating. It’s just such a brilliantly designed game, and so, so tightly designed. Everything props everything else up, and it lacks the pure frustration and memorization of, like, the vanishing block puzzles of Classic Mega Man.

One of my favorite parts about this game that isn’t mentioned in Egoraptor’s video and didn’t really carry forward through future Mega Man X games is the fact that all of the levels in X1 are literally connected to each other. Actions in one stage have consequences in another. Defeating Chill Penguin freezes Flame Mammoth’s lava. Storm Eagle’s airship crashes in to Spark Mandrill’s power plant. Bosses don’t just have weaknesses, their levels do, too.

The most common complaint I see people relay about Castlevania: Symphony of the Night is that it’s “too easy.” My response is… yeah? And?? A game’s value is not always judged on how difficult it is; plenty of people would tell you that Kirby games are too easy, too, but Kirby is a beloved franchise with legions of fans. It’s okay that Symphony of the Night is kind of easy.

Especially given, that, I feel, the entire point of gaining experience points and powering up your character is to reach that point where you go from chump to champ. What use is gaining strength if you don’t eventually feel strong? Symphony is not a failure in this regard, and exploring the castle and solving its secrets provide enough of a hook even after you start to feel untouchable. And, speaking as somebody who nearly ripped his own hair out with frustration over Castlevania III, being given the ability to style on these creatures is more than welcome.

But what I really, truly love about Symphony is just how much of a love letter it is to the Castlevania franchise and just horror in general. The Castlevania Dungeon has a terrific page that breaks down the hundreds of references the game makes to classical literature, history, mythology, and film. Somebody on that development team REALLY did their homework. There’s so much of that in this game that I feel like I learn something new every time I play it.

It’s also the other half of the term “Metroidvania,” so, y’know. Important™

I know Breath of the Wild would be in this five, but here’s a fifth game anyway: Super Mario 64. I will never shut up about Super Mario 64.

To reiterate: This is the game that invented analog movement. If you’ve played Assassin’s Creed, or Grand Theft Auto, or Dark Souls, or Devil May Cry, you can trace the deepest, raw, fundamental core back to ideas first introduced in Super Mario 64.

And if you ask me, the game still holds up. The camera control could use some work, I guess, but Mario is still just as fun to control today as he was all the way back in 1996. In fact, depending on who you ask, he’s more fun to control in Mario 64, because later 3D Mario games simplified his move set under the assumption he was too complex in this game. But maybe you’re like me, and think that complexity is good. (I wouldn’t even call it complex, it’s more just… robust)

If you want to see a longer list of games I think are my favorites, this GiantBomb list I wrote is still kept somewhat up to date. (And contains a lot more modern games, if you thought these were all too retro)

[kasunex]

“I Choose this Fate of My Own Free Will” - What Persona 3 Means to Me

As a forward, I decided to write this post after finishing my fifth replay of Persona 3. I didn't want to go too in-depth, but rather to focus on what particularly stood out to me as the most important elements: gameplay, design, and story synchronization, and the characters of Makoto, Aigis, Junpei, Chidori, Takaya, and Shinjiro. With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy!!

Persona 3 is a game unlike any other that I have ever played. When I began it for the first time on December 25th, 2012, I was in a pit of confusion and fear, struggling with abuse, isolation, depression, and anxiety. By the time I finished the game, on January 2nd, 2013, I was overwhelmed with emotions that would bring about the biggest change in the way I see the world any work of fiction has ever led me to. Even six years later, when so much media is unable to elicit response from me, it’s Persona 3 that drives me to tears again and again.

At first glace, Persona 3 wouldn’t seem much more than an edgy escapist experience for nihilistic teenagers. The emo design of the protagonist, the often rude and even callous dialogue options, the coffins, and most notably, the mock suicide used by the characters to fight. Yet, this initial impression hides behind it a genuinely heartfelt and anti-nihilistic message, hinted at from the start. The first screen of the game gives us this cryptic statement. “Time never waits, it delivers all to the same end. You who wishes to safeguard the future, however limited it may be, you will be given one year. Go fourth and do not falter, with you heart as your guide.” This is presented without ever receiving much explanation, but it sets the tone for what is to come. All throughout Persona 3, the shadow of death is present. The obvious places to point are Pharos’ visits to remind the player the end of the world is near, or the evokers and their aforementioned suicidal imagery. But it also does so in more subtle ways as well.

The theme “Mystic” plays at the beginning, when the player agrees to Pharos that he will “take responsibility for his actions”, and is reminded that “nobody can escape time.” From then on, Mystic plays in the background of the Tartarus themes. The theme of the first block is subtle, mysterious, and eerie. As the player climbs, the omniscient atmosphere grows. By the time of the final block, the music has taken on an intensive and foreboding feel, the shift building towards a gradual climax. Pharos’ statement that one can’t “close their ears or cover their eyes” is one the player is reminded of time and time again, and it can be felt that things in Persona 3 are building towards Makoto’s doom from the very start. While I can understand the oft repeated criticism of Tartarus as grind-heavy and somewhat generic randomly generated dungeon, it being a tower is the perfect way to metaphor for this inescapable fate. Each step up the stairs of Tartarus bring the player one step closer to their ultimate fate, one that, fittingly, can only be death. After all, what else does life amount to but one step forwards to death with each moment we all live? The game over screen serves as yet another reminder of this: “Death is not a hunter unbeknownst to its prey. One is always aware that it lies in wait. Though life is merely a journey to the grave, it is not one to be undertaken without hope.” Tartarus is the ultimate symbolism of this concept, even more so with the appearance of the Reaper. If one stays on a floor of Tartarus too long, they are reminded to keep moving forward, lest death take them before they have accomplished their mission.

Makoto Yuki is a unique protagonist. A mix of Japanese and Western RPG tropes, he is both his own character, and yet also an extension of the player. In many ways, Makoto has an individual personality that is portrayed subtly throughout the game. This can be seen in his design, in his unchosen reactions, in the range of options provided to the player, his turbulent but close friendship with Junpei, and in his bond with Aigis. Yet, the game also goes out of its way to reinforce the player’s identification with Makoto. In another oft criticized choice, the player is unable to directly control any character but him, even in battle. This forces the player to identify themselves as Makoto in particular, rather than as the puppet-master of the entire party. As mentioned before, his dialogue and certain actions are often controlled by the player as well. In this space the player is given to input themselves on to Makoto, the game ensures that we remain in his shoes, while also ensuring that the narrative purposes ultimately override player choices. In this implementation, the game is given unique control over its audience for narrative purposes.

From the start, the player is encouraged to expressing an uncaring worldview onto Makoto. When Pharos first states that the end of the world will soon come, one of the options is “I don’t care”. Indeed, why would the player care? Regardless of their thoughts on such a thing happening in reality, there seems little reason to feel invested in the fate of a fictional one. What more is the player there but to fantasize about being a hero, right? It’s natural to look at SEES and romanticize their struggle. In some ways, Persona 3 would seem to encourage this viewpoint, but it also questions it. Much of the game is focused on the motivation of the characters, on their varying opinions on the Dark Hour and on their lives in general. The player is given many views at which to approach the situation and of course, many options to express their own stance. Yet, the player can’t deny that their role is in that sort of escapism. The most on-the-nose comment is given by Junpei, trying to understand why he is angry at the thought of the Dark Hour vanishing, despite it putting a decent amount of people in a coma. “I talk a big game about fighting, but hell...it’s all I’m good for. If it weren’t for that...I’d be worthless.” Junpei cuts through the audience’s defenses with this statement. Despite their proposed hatred of the Dark Hour, many of the characters do feel a sense of purpose in their powers that is missing from their daily life. But can the players say much else for themselves? Even if it’s just a simulation, a game, why would one play it if not to fulfill something missing in their real lives? Would we really react much differently in their shoes?

It’s not until October that the game truly begins to turn this sentiment on its head. After a boss fight, Shinjiro is shot and killed. Killing a party member so soon after their active addition is an uncommon choice, in part because it essentially leaves any effort that the player puts into leveling them null. The most notable example is certainly Aerith from Final Fantasy VII, one that has become infamous for the reaction it invokes in fans of the game. Killing off Shinjiro makes clear that the game is willing to kill off major characters, and it breaks through preconceptions about plot armor, all the more prevalent in games, to remind the player that there is true danger in this situation. Shinjiro’s death also highlights the disconnect between those who have lost loved ones and those to for whom death is just a statistic or a news story. The other students are apathetic at best and disrespectful at worst. They don’t act unrealistically, or even too unsympathetically, but they clearly don’t grasp that Shinjiro was more than a punk. He was someone with friends, dreams, and a future. And can any of us really say we would think any differently? When we hear that some number of people died on the news, do we really see these people as individuals? I can attest that I at least would reasonably see such things in a very abstract way. The other students are not vilified, their comments are nothing that seems unlike what we ourselves might say. The fear of their own mortality leads them to distance themselves emotionally from Shinjiro, writing him off as a delinquent so as to paint him as "the other". But we knew Shinjiro, and so we see their comments in a different light. Makoto is given the option to tell the students badmouthing Shinjiro to shut-up, with Junpei joining him. It’s here that Persona 3 demonstrates a remarkable ability to shift itself away from the nihilistic view of the world that it once seemed to foster, while still demonstrating a balanced understanding of that view. This is reinforced again later in the game, when Junpei, the person who clung to the Dark Hour for his sense of purpose, loses Chidori to its violence.

Then there is Takaya, the man directly responsible for Shinjiro’s, and later Chidori’s deaths. Takaya is someone who has fully embraced the Dark Hour as his purpose in life. He is unable to let it go, and he doesn’t care who has to die to protect it. Takaya’s views are extreme, but hardly unrealistic. Much like a drug addict unwilling to accept the damage of their addiction, Takaya downplays and even justifies the Dark Hour as being benign. To him, that feeling of abstraction towards the death of others has become prevalent enough that he only seeks to protect what he believes makes his own special. When he discovers the world is soon to end, he is enthused. This sentiment is echoed by Ikutsuki, many NPCs, and is implied to have been a driving force behind those that created the Dark Hour. Predicting and even anticipating the apocalypse has been in vogue for generations now, and even my own Father once spoke of this to me: “When I was a teenager, people talked about nuclear war between the US and the Soviet Union. There was a part of me that found the thought exciting. The world ends for someone every day, but what a way to die in the absolute end of humanity.” My memory of this statement has allowed me to understand Takaya’s sentiment. When someone becomes disconnected from the world around them, from the mortality of themselves and others, they don't care about the consequences of their actions. Suddenly, the end of the world seems exciting rather than horrifying. Just before the final boss, Takaya forces the party once again to face the reality that their views were originally not so different from his. There is truth in this, as even Aigis admits, yet, they have realized then that they took their lives for granted.

January 31st is the first time that the player is given a choice of their own. Ryoji reveals that the end will soon come with the return of Nyx, the result of so many wishing for an end to the pain of life. He gives Makoto the option to killy him, erase his friends’ memories, and let live them in ignorance of their coming deaths. To refuse this offer is to face Nyx without any hope of success. It’s clear through the party’s gradually unanimous support for fighting Nyx where the game’s writers sided. However, Ryoji once again shows their ability to portray the opposing view in a sympathetic light. Ryoji genuinely cares for his friends and wholeheartedly believes that erasing their memories will save them from unnecessary suffering. In any case, there are many ways to interpret this question. The first time I played the game, I saw it as similar to my own thoughts on whether or not to give up on life and commit suicide. Did I want to struggle against my social, mental, and familial problems that seemed insurmountable, or did I want to give up, and go for one last hurrah before the end of my life? Death awaited either way. The only change was the what my life would amount to. The choice was mine - just as the game had said at the beginning. Whichever outcome resulted in the game, as in real life, was my responsibility to make. At the start of the game, I picked "who cares" as my response to Pharos. Truthfully, at the time, I may well have said the same thing in real life. And, in a decision I would have considered unthinkable when I began the game, I decided to let Ryoji live.

The heavy atmosphere of the game’s final month serves as a constant reminder of the decision made. It is during this time that my favorite Social Link unlocks - Aigis. Her Link focuses on in-depth exploration of what her arc had touched on throughout the previous months. As she had found greater emotional fulfillment in her life in the ability to make choices for herself, she had awoken to the fear of death, and of loss. To find the meaning and purpose she longed for in life was to also be aware of her limitations. Aigis is tormented by her inability to protect her friends, and her feelings of inadequacy as a lover to Makoto. Aigis’ struggle shows that to live with purpose is to live with awareness of how fragile and fleeting life is. To enjoy life, to love, is to open oneself up to the fear and pain of loss. Yet, is to live without enjoyment and purpose any life at all? This dilemma was faced earlier by Chidori, who had lived with apathy and detachment similar to Aigis’ before meeting Junpei. And just as Chidori was forced to confront a fear of death in her newfound love for Junpei, so to is Aigis in her love for Makoto. Ultimately, Chidori pushes Junpei away in an attempt to protect herself from these fears, as Aigis is similarly indecisive for how to approach them. Yet, in Junpei’s near-death, Chidori decides to sacrifice herself to protect him, ultimately deciding to accept and face her pain in order to live.

When the party reaches the height of Tartarus, they face Nyx Avatar. Here, the dialogue explicitly targets the audience. Mitsuru calls Nyx “what awaits all living things from the minute they are born.” Indeed, Nyx Avatar proclaims in the final stage of the battle: “it matters not who you are. Death awaits you.” There is no escaping that this applies as much to the player as to anyone else. When the fight against Nyx Avatar concludes, Makoto ascends alone to fight the true Nyx. With a remix of Mystic playing, he rises through darkness towards a bright light. This scene is reminiscent of the concept of one’s soul rising to heaven, as well as the description that to die is to see “a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.” Finally, Makoto is face to face with the true Nyx, a ball of glowing light with outreaching skeletal arms. The symbolism makes it clear: the protagonist is facing the very incarnation of death itself. This is what every step up Tartarus, every second of the story has been building up to. Makoto stands alone against his doom. And yet, his friends’ cries of support reach him and give him the power to resist. Eventually, the protagonist gives up his HP to seal away Nyx. The metaphor is heavy, and yet, it is effective.

The ending of the game is, fittingly, where the message is truly brought home. In many ways, it seems almost euphorically happy. The characters regain their lost memories, and Mitsuru jumps off stage in slow motion as upbeat and cheerful music plays. The foreshadowing is there, however. The music that begins when we cut to Makoto with his head in Aigis’ lap is somber, and sorrowful. This scene gives us Aigis’ final resolution. She accepts her fears of losing Makoto, and promises to protect him and stay by his side. Just as nearly losing Junpei had done for Chidori, nearly losing Makoto allowed Aigis to realize the depth of her feelings for him. Aigis has firmly embraced that life is precious and worth living, rejecting her earlier fears that it may have been better to live without emotion. Of course, unbeknownst to her, this realization has come to late. Makoto succumbs to his exhaustion and falls asleep in her lap, never to wake up again. The ending song, Memories of You, expresses Aigis’ resolve to remember and love Makoto for the rest of her life.

Killing a silent protagonist is a rare choice. I have only personally played three other games that do so, though I’ve heard that a small handful of others exist. The belief that the main character of a story should be all but unkillable is a popular idea even outside of gaming. But when the character is meant to have an element of player insert, to kill them off is normally seen as too intense, and too on-the-nose. In Persona 3′s case, it is exactly what is needed to drive home the point. Much like the main character of fiction, it is easy to feel that we have something special about us keeping us alive. Indeed, we are the main character of our own tale, and for as long as it lasts, so do we. But someday our luck will run out and our journey will end, just as Makoto’s did. Makoto’s death reminds the player that nobody is immune to death, and our time will come as well. Nonetheless, Makoto is enough of his own character that we are also able to see his death from a more traditional viewer’s perspective. And in that, the joy of the party, the seeming upbeat nature of the ending, and Aigis’ promise to protect and stay by Makoto makes the loss all the more effective. The ones we love could be gone at any moment, and making it come for the party when they seem so close to a almost cheesy happy ending reminds us of this somber fact.

As Aigis expresses, the ultimate message of Persona 3 is that one can’t find meaning in life as long as they live in denial of the mortality of themselves and their loved ones. Doing so puts people on a path to self-destructive behavior. It is only by accepting the inevitability of death that one can realize just how precious and meaningful life truly is, and only by this realization can that we find true happiness. We see this truth firsthand in our own simulated experience. This is what makes Persona 3 so brilliant - it brings the player into the story in such a way that only a video game can. Say what you will about books, movies, television: for all the advantages these mediums have over video games, only a video game can show a player a fate that is of their own choosing. Yet, no matter how much pain the ending may cause them, it remains undeniable that the player has, in a sense, contributed to the very sentiment it seeks to deconstruct. It’s what drew them to the game in the first place.

Persona 3 develops from a story that uses suicidal and edgy imagery for the adrenaline rush into one that heavily deconstructs and averts these very concepts. By doing so, it encourages the player to re-evaluate these ideas. At the very start, Mitsuru gives a speech telling the students of the schools to dig deeply and re-evaluate their convictions. During my first playthrough, I did just that. In the days, weeks, and months following, my suicidal thoughts dropped drastically and gradually trickled down to nothing. January 2nd now serves as a constant reminder of how I make the choice, of my own free will, to live. So many still see Persona 3 as a depressing and bitter story, like the emotionally disturbed younger brother to Persona 4′s unabashed positivism. It is anything but. Rather, Persona 3 is the most candidly and genuinely optimistic game I have ever played, and it is thanks to it that I was able to find the courage and the hope to move forward from the darkest time of my life.

[qqueenofhades]

the dragons on the map: iii

Rating: M Summary:  After the Lifeboat is nearly destroyed, the Time Team ends up stranded in their strangest and most unfamiliar destination yet: 1195 France. With Rittenhouse to stop, medieval adventures to be had, and a pair of rival kings at war, it’ll truly be a miracle if they ever get home. (Garcy/Lyatt/pre-Garcyatt, Flogan, Rufus Is Judging, general Time Team relationships and bonding. Guest appearances from the Plantagenets, for reasons.) Available: AO3

The streets of Paris are uneven, muddy, and dark, and Flynn is having to concentrate on keeping both his footing and an eye on Lucy. He and Wyatt already decided with a look that it’s too dangerous to try to punch and/or shoot their way out of this, but that doesn’t mean there’s no room for a later alteration of the plan. The captain of the guards has to be Rittenhouse, or at least Rittenhouse-trained – how else would he be able to speak modern English to them? Is it possible that Rittenhouse isn’t just days ahead of them, but weeks, or months? Their jump here was so uncontrolled, like a windsurfer being pulled along in the wake of a motorboat, that they still don’t know when they arrived relative to the Mothership, or even how they consciously did at all. If the machines run on a closed time-like curve, the amount of fold and twist in the fabric of spacetime necessary to bend so far back on itself might have created a maelstrom effect. In other words, Rufus could not possibly have jumped the Lifeboat anywhere – or when – else. It would have just gotten stuck in the Mothership’s massive gravitational anomaly and dragged down here anyway. But like debris washing up on the beach – basically, after all, exactly how they landed – there is no reason it has to have been anywhere close. Did Rittenhouse do this on purpose? Frankly, Flynn isn’t sure they’re that smart. But since 1195 is so very far from 2018 (in more ways than one), farther than either of the machines have traveled before, maybe this jump did mess something up. Something more than history, something that can’t be changed.

That, however ominous a thought, is also a very unhelpful one, and Flynn shoves it away. He glances around for Lucy again. They are being escorted toward the portcullis of the gate that guards the bridge to the Île-de-la-Cité, and Flynn feels a cold lump of foreboding in his stomach. If they’re going here, they’re going directly to the royal dungeons, rather than some noisome local hoosgow for small-time miscreants. Prisoners held at the king’s pleasure have almost no chance of getting out, or at least not for years. Maybe they took the punching thing off the table too early. Have Rittenhouse finally realized that gloating never goes well for villains, and are intending to just chuck them in here and throw away the key? Or –

Flynn is on the very hair-trigger of a considerable scene, but Lucy is too far away for him to reach easily, and he feels oddly obligated for Rufus as well (Wyatt can take care of himself, he’ll be fine). Besides, there has to be some kind of explanation for this. Rittenhouse probably wants information (which they’re not going to get) or satisfaction (which Flynn intends to see they don’t). If they wanted to just kill them, they’d have taken them down by the Seine and tipped the bodies in (though there are guaranteed to be some of their own among them). No. Taking them here means something else is afoot. Something bigger.

The guards shout up at their fellows on the gatehouse, and chains rattle and clank as the portcullis is winched up, mossy iron teeth dripping with river water. The team is marched forward by their respective soldiers, Wyatt and Flynn exchange another look, and once more – for the time being – consent. They still have their guns, hidden beneath their jackets (or tunic, in Wyatt’s case) but that’s only an ultimate last-resort option. And no matter how the saying might go about bringing a knife to a gun fight, Flynn would not like to take his chances against these particular knives unless he has to. Someone swinging a piece of metal at you that is three feet long and extremely sharp is not a prospect to take lightly, especially when they know exactly what the hell they’re doing with it. Boys start training for knighthood at seven years old. Even the best-drilled, crack-shot special-ops soldier in the modern world didn’t enlist until he was eighteen.

Torches flicker from rough iron sconces as they pass under another portcullis, and enter the main courtyard – the bailey, it’s better known as. Flynn is briefly struck by the whiteness and sharpness of the stones in the walls and in the buildings of the royal palace. He has wandered around plenty of old castles in his day – he used to live in Dubrovnik, Croatia, which is a medieval old-city jewel box – but they’ve all been that, old. They’ve had several centuries to slip and scuff and wear, to settle down to comfortable disarray. This one is so new that you can almost smell the sawdust. It looks like a Hollywood set or a modern replica, rather than the real thing. Which is the irony, of course, because it is.

“So,” Flynn says, as pleasantly as he can. “We’re going to visit someone?”

“Yes.” The captain smiles at him, not in a way to make Flynn feel better about this (although that was not likely to happen anyway). “Some formalities. To see why you are here, is all.”

“You do that for all the newcomers to the city? And speak to them in English?” Flynn can’t quite tell if the captain is a native speaker or not. The version of English presently in currency is early Middle English – which, while not quite as confusing to the modern eye as Anglo-Saxon Old English, is still nothing like its twenty-first-century iteration. “Cut the crap. You and your friends – ” he nods at the other three guards marching Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus, has to fight an urge to tear the bastard’s hand off Lucy’s arm and then throttle him – “you’re all Rittenhouse. Let’s just skip to that and – ”

The captain gives him what seems to be a genuinely blank look, rendering Flynn momentarily stumped. What is going on here? He is baffled enough not to struggle as they enter a hall with a high hammer-beam roof, blue banners embroidered with the fleur-de-lys draped from the rafters. A carved mahogany chair under an ornate baldachin is set on a raised dais at the end, and Flynn screeches to a halt. Wait a damn minute, is this –

The thought barely has time to cross his head when the soldiers stop, the captain say something to another of his fellows by the door, and the other man nods once and turns smartly, vanishing out of it. There follow a very uncomfortable several minutes, as Flynn, Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus catch each other’s eyes and mouth silent variants of what the hell? They, to say the least, were expecting to be jumped or beaten or thrown into the dungeon (Flynn happens to know that iron maidens were a nineteenth-century myth used to bolster the “barbaric dark ages!” narrative that the Victorians were fond of, but that doesn’t mean that whatever is awaiting them would be pleasant). This appears instead to be the throne room, and that is an entirely new can of worms.

Right now, as Flynn has told the others, the king of France is Philip II, of the Capetian dynasty established in the late tenth century. He is sometimes known as Philip Augustus, originally for the month of his birth, but after his forty-three-year-long reign, from 1180-1223, with its impressive territorial conquests and brilliant, ruthless centralization of the French crown, there are plenty who see it as a fitting imperial epithet. He is presently just thirty years old, but has been a king since the age of fifteen. He is cynical, clever, clear-eyed, calculating, shrewd, bitter, jealous, and obsessed – especially with Richard the Lionheart, his great rival, who gets the best of him in nearly everything until his unexpected death in four years. There is plenty of conjecture as to how their notoriously intimate and passionate friendship, forged in the summer of 1187 as they were both plotting against Richard’s father, Henry II of England, has gone so wrong. But if the team is here to see Philip – Flynn has lost all notion of what is going on, or who can possibly want what from them.

He shifts his weight restlessly. Lucy and the other two are looking at him, waiting for him to history them out of this – Lucy’s job, usually, and Flynn feels an odd reticence at supplanting her. But he can’t do much when they’re still being watched by the guards. Do they all speak English, or just the captain? How long are they going to be kept waiting? It might be a king’s prerogative, but Garcia Flynn has had a goddamn bitch of a few days and he just wants, if that’s fine with everyone, to sleep.

At last, there’s a rustle at the door, and the guards snap to attention. There’s no trumpet fanfare, nothing but a tapestry imperiously thrust aside, and a communal inclination of heads, hands on hearts. Flynn does the same, and the trio follows his lead, as a slender, dark man, with shrewd green eyes, neat black beard, and a cool, haughty manner, strides into the room. He’s wearing a high-necked blue tunic picked with gilted embroidery, rings on his fingers, and a golden circlet on his head. It’s clear, as if it wasn’t by all the bowing, that this is the head honcho, the main man, and Flynn, after trying to decide if they should wait to be addressed or humbly acknowledge the king’s presence, goes with the latter. Unlike in later centuries, when the honorific would be “Votre Majesté,” it hasn’t come into common use for royalty yet. The title, shared between kings, bishops, lords, and pretty much any dignitary below emperor rank (and it can be pretty much anything for them, because they’re an emperor, fuck you) is “Vostre Grace.”

It is this which Flynn murmurs deferentially, as the team again copies him. Philip Capet eyes them with considerable judgment, clearly hearing their atrocious accents, but does not immediately comment upon them. Then he turns to the captain, asks something, and when it is answered, looks back at them. He appears to be asking which of them is in charge here.

For once, although Wyatt might normally have a problem with letting Flynn claim that role, he hurriedly steps back, so he doesn’t get stuck having to do this. “It’s him,” he says, and points. “Definitely him.”

Flynn rolls his eyes, even as he wonders if that counts as a show of trust. He clears his throat and turns back to Philip, who is waiting with an exquisitely arched eyebrow. This is a man who can evidently give Flynn a run for his money in the sassy face Olympics, even if Philip is a head and a half shorter than him (aw, how nice, Wyatt isn’t the midget in the room anymore). Flynn clears his throat. “C’est moi.”

“Great,” he hears Rufus mutter. “This is just who I wanted in charge of not getting us thrown into ye olde dungeon.”

With a valiant effort of will, Flynn does not turn around and strangle them, even as he hears Lucy shushing them like a stern kindergarten teacher. Philip utters a tiny sigh, a sign that they are treating the royal presence with considerable levity and they should knock it off. Then he says, “Can you provincials in fact understand me?”

It’s in Old French, of course, but since Philip speaks the closest thing there is to a standard, the educated Parisian or court French that modern French will develop from, the sort of thing that l’Académie members have special dreams about at night (though really, Flynn doesn’t want to know what those are), Flynn can indeed follow him, with effort. He blinks in abject gratitude, as it feels like grasping the Rosetta Stone after years of ignorance. “Yes. What is the language that your man there speaks?” It’s dangerous, going for the “did you know your bodyguard might be Rittenhouse?” ploy right off, but they need to get a few things straight.

“He says it is your native tongue.” Philip stares back at him unreadably. “Perhaps you should tell me?”

Well played, Flynn has to admit. A king does not give information, he asks for it, and Philip isn’t going to tip his hand on who – or what – he thinks they are. There is an awkward moment as Flynn can hear the boys whispering to Lucy if she can understand it, Lucy answering that she can get more of it than usual, and all of them shutting up sharpish as Philip flicks that viper’s gaze on them. “You have a talkative retinue of servants, do you not? Is it also the custom where you come from for them to gossip behind their masters’ backs?”

Flynn really wishes Wyatt understood that, just because the look on his face would have been worth the whole trip, but manages to keep his own face straight. “That is my wife, my lord. And my business partner – ” he points at Rufus – “and manservant.”

“Your business partner?” Philip considers the unfamiliar term, then glances at Rufus with a cutting expression. “A Saracen? So you are English, then? The English king is the one known to keep consort and commerce with all manner of heathens and unchristian people, after all. And you certainly speak the French language poorly enough.”

Flynn opens his mouth, reminds himself that no good can come of pointing out to Philip that the English (at least the upper classes) and the French speak essentially the same language at this point, and shakes his head. “No. We – we are Castilian, Your Grace. From Spain.”

“I am aware where Castile is.” Philip studies him with hooded eyes. It’s not altogether clear that he believes it. “What are your names?”

“I am Garcia.” It’s a good old Spanish name, already used for a while in one or other of the regional dynasties (Navarrese or Aragonese, Flynn thinks) and doesn’t need to be changed. “My wife, Lucy.” Likewise an old French name that is current, even if more often used as a place name; a Godfrey de Lucy is the bishop of somewhere in England right now. Winchester? Fuck it, Flynn can’t remember, and it’s not important. “My partner is Ramiro, and my servant is William.” When in doubt for a male name in twelfth-century France, just pick William. Considering Flynn could have stuck him with something like Odo or Boso (both old and honorable French names, he will have you know), Wyatt should be grateful.

As he says this, Flynn watches the English-speaking guard very carefully. If he’s Rittenhouse, there should be some flicker of awareness at this (even though, frankly, he’s probably guessed who they are from the moment he saw them in the tavern, and doesn’t need the confirmation). But nothing. He’s perfected the job of acting like a piece of furniture; he is here to protect the king’s person, not to presume to listen to his conversations or interact in his affairs. If he is a sleeper agent, he’s been here long enough to learn the drill, which again – worrisome. There’s a long pause as Philip takes all this in. Then he says, “And when did you arrive in Paris? Recently?”

“Just tonight Your Grace. We were… welcomed by your man there and brought here. We are still not entirely certain as to why.”

There is another pause. Then Philip raises a hand. “Leave us.”

There is an orderly rustle of movement as the guards pivot on their heels and file out without a backward glance; the king speaks, they obey. It’s a power Flynn can’t help but envy, even as he knows it’s the power Rittenhouse wants: that unquestioning, instant submission to one ruler, the arbitrator of a universe built on unshakeable certainty: the people answer to the lord who answers to the king who answers to God who (at least according to them) speaks through the church. This is not a place of postmodern political theory or grey moral relativism or atheism, or even usually agnosticism. This is not a time for considering yourself to have a special, individual destiny, over and above the role in which you have been born and raised. You are part of many, the pillar of the whole. Having seen this world for himself, Flynn understands a little more. You step out of line, you try to detach yourself from the community you need to survive, and you will die.

In any event, Philip dismissing his guards clearly means that he doesn’t think Flynn and the others will try to attack him – which they won’t, obviously, they’re not here to do Rittenhouse’s job for them – and without the potential Rittenhouse mole eavesdropping, they can perhaps speak more freely. Philip moves to the sideboard and pours a goblet of wine, then beckons, inviting Flynn to do the same. The king won’t serve him, obviously, but he can serve himself in the king’s presence, hinting that there might be some more candor in their interactions. Philip then glances over at the other three. “And your lady may take refreshment as well, of course. Madame?”

Lucy blinks, then drops an awkward little curtsy. It’s adorable, even if probably completely anachronistic, and Flynn bites his cheek. She ventures over, having obviously heard some currents of the conversation but not sure how much to let on. Philip is behaving as a well-born lord should, extending courteous conduct to the lady (though he has kept his second wife locked up in a tower without enough food, refusing to acknowledge her as his queen, since inexplicably repudiating her the morning after their wedding in 1193) but that does not mean he expects to hear or value her input in any way. Lucy pours a goblet of wine for herself, then takes a sip. Her eyes widen, which Flynn could have warned her about. Everyday beer and ale is watered down, since most people have to drink it as a common beverage, but wine – an expensive and time-consuming product cultivated in vineyards and sold at gourmand prices – doesn’t pull its punches.

“It’s very – very good, Your Grace,” Lucy says, only slightly hoarsely. “From Champagne?”

“Your wife has a refined sense of taste, my lord.” Philip looks at Flynn as if this is to his credit, not hers. “We import most of our spirits from there. My older sister – half-sister – is still the dowager countess, after my nephew never came home from Jerusalem. Not much of a loss, really.” He shrugs.

Lucy opens her mouth as if to offer sympathy, but Flynn surreptitiously steps on her foot. What Philip actually means is that his nephew, Henry II of Champagne, became king of Jerusalem at the end of the Third Crusade and is living there – at least for another few years, Flynn recalls that he dies young – quite happily, not that he was killed. But since Henry was a close ally of his other uncle, Richard (Marie of Champagne, his mother, is the daughter of Louis VII, Philip’s father, and Eleanor of Aquitaine, Richard’s mother, from their first marriage to each other – incestuous does not begin to describe the family trees), as far as Philip’s concerned, he’s basically dead. Philip doesn’t particularly get along with Marie either. In fact, there are very few people, especially in his extended family, that Philip Augustus gets along with, which is mostly the way he seems to like it. He’s come here to win, not to make friends. Flynn can respect that about a man.

There’s another pause as they all genteelly sip their wine. Lucy is taking small mouthfuls, and Wyatt and Rufus are obviously wondering if they just get to stand here and awkwardly watch everyone else drink with their new best buddy, the king of France. But a Saracen and a manservant rank well below any tier of society that Philip is obligated to acknowledge or make any overture to, and so he continues to carry on as if they’re not even in the room. (God, Flynn wishes he could do that.) Then, when the dictates of hospitality have been fulfilled, Philip sets his goblet down and fixes Flynn with a cool, appraising stare. “I have been informed that you have considerable skill as a routier.”

It’s on the tip of Flynn’s tongue to ask who told him that, before he remembers that he doesn’t get to. Routier means mercenary, or a sword for hire, a man who makes his living being paid to fight in the various territorial wars across western Europe. They’re looked down on and disliked, even as they form a crucial part of most fighting forces. At least as long as it’s your standard skirmish warfare. They’re not the men to hold a fortress under siege; if a garrison resists until the bitter end, rather than coming out to surrender and make terms, the laws of war decree that they are to all be hanged or slaughtered without mercy when the castle is taken. Mercenaries, having a general concern for their skins, won’t do this, and hence will probably accept a payment from your enemy to hand over your castle to him. Richard himself has a feared mercenary captain, Mercadier, who’s served effectively as a co-dog of war. Is that what Philip wants? To also enlist some muscle without moral scruple? He does do that next year – hires a captain named Cadoc, who succeeds in wounding Richard during his attack on one of Philip’s castles – but that is 1196. This is 1195, and here Flynn – demonstrably, apparently, muscle without moral scruple – is. Standing right in front of him.

“I’ve… done that sort of thing,” Flynn says after a moment, carefully. “Yes.”

“Good.” Philip looks pleased. That can’t be good. “A man of your… presence, I would be dismayed if you did not. Well then, Garcia of Castile, if I may presume to such informality. I wish to engage your professional services.”

“You – ” Flynn blinks. “You what?”

“Did I misspeak the first time?”

No, Flynn thinks, no he did not, especially since Philip just pulled the twelfth-century equivalent of “did I fucking stutter, bitch?” This is definitely not good. “I am a – former routier, Your Grace, I mean to say. I’m only a merchant these days.”

“Are you?” Philip keeps smiling. “Forgive me if I doubt that. Your very strange apparel, the way your hand keeps moving to – what is that you have with you, exactly? No, no, please do not remove it. I may feel threatened and call for my guards, and then this would go in an unfortunate direction. As well, you have not ceased to look around this hall since you entered it, nor ever to stand at your ease. I may not be the most valiant soldier, no lion-hearted hero to rampage across battlefields, but I am not untutored in the ways of war. Also, unless customs have drastically changed in Spain – which I grant is entirely possible, what with all the Moorish invasions – I was not aware that it was permissible to lie to a king’s face. Do so again, and we can certainly arrange a different sort of welcome.”

Flynn shuts his mouth with a snap. He’s not used to feeling intimidated by other men at all, much less a man who stands maybe five-seven, five-eight, but he takes that like a backhand across the face. Philip continues to gaze at him. Again, he repeats, “Did I misspeak?”

“You did not, Your Grace.” Flynn grimaces. “I apologize for the discourtesy.”

“And before your lady?” Philip nods to Lucy, as if to say that he regrets that she has found herself attached to such an unchivalrous churl. (It may be true, but still.) It’s also a fairly clear threat that she’s standing right there, a useful hostage for Flynn’s good behavior if he keeps trying to weasel out, and that sends another chill down his spine. “Please, shall we attempt that again? Garcia of Castile, I wish to engage your professional services.”

“And what…” Flynn pauses to wet his lips. “What services would those be, Your Grace?”

“I wish you to travel to Poitiers,” Philip says. “My spies have brought me intelligence that the king of England is currently there, in company with a number of unusual people. You are to make a full report on what he is doing and who they are, and whether they are in any part a threat to me. If they are offering him some sort of advantage or tactic or anything else whatsoever, I desire it to be brought back and presented for my interest as well. Am I clear?”

Flynn’s stomach sinks slowly through his foot. On the one hand, this is exactly the information they’ve been after: Richard is in Poitiers, his hometown and capital city from his teenage days as count of Poitou and duke of Aquitaine, rather than Rouen, where he’s supposed to be right now, reconciling with his wife. Instead, he’s in another city (and another province) altogether, with Rittenhouse whispering God knows what suggestions in his ear. If Flynn knows Richard at all (that is, from books), they will have their work cut out and then some trying to manipulate him, but if it sounds like a good deal, there’s a chance that Richard could agree to it. And Philip – what? Wants Rittenhouse brought back to Paris, is willing to get in on absolutely anything, if it means Richard can’t use it against him? Someone has to have planted this idea, told Philip (mostly) who they are, whether the guard or the person that the guard reports to. Send the Time Team to fuck up history themselves – every interaction they have with Richard might lead him further away from what he’s originally supposed to do. And with the added extra twist that if Richard finds out they’ve been sent by his mortal enemy to spy on him, he’ll kill them. Great!

“We…” Flynn starts, feeling winded. “Your Grace, that…”

“You have an objection, Garcia?”

“It sounds very… dangerous.”

Philip gives him a no shit! look. “I was not aware that you were a man to recoil from danger. A craven routier? If that is the case, perhaps I can see why you went into the merchant trade. Much less risk in counting pennies. A disappointment, though, truly.”

Flynn racks his brains. They are not going to get away with refusing this offer to Philip’s face, they do need to get to Richard and warn him about Rittenhouse – that’s the whole reason they’re here – and even the fairly clear proof that there is a sleeper agent somewhere in Philip’s court is less of a problem at the moment. It’s not like they have Skype or FaceTime or any way for Philip to immediately know what they’re doing. Word travels slowly. And if Rittenhouse is there, the Mothership must be somewhere in the vicinity. Maybe they can grab it and bomb out before Philip ever hears anything. A hopeful thought, even if probably a vastly over-optimistic one. Wouldn’t that be nice.

“You would… supply means for our travel?” Flynn asks at last. “Horses, provisions, clothes, the like?”

“If that would enable you to more conscientiously carry out the task I have asked of you, yes.” Philip inclines his head with faux humility. “Seeing as the lot of you are dressed like knaves to begin with, and should not at least give such insult as to stride into Richard’s court looking like that. Garments in your measure may be difficult to come by, but I will do my best. As for a fee, it will be payable upon your successful return. And perhaps your lady wife would wish to stay and enjoy the society of the court?”

“No,” Flynn blurts out, fast enough to be rude. There is no way in absolute hellfire that he is leaving Lucy behind as a hostage, which he knows damn well that she would be. No chance he’s leaving her alone, no certain chance of a reunion, with the sleeper agent probably just waiting for the opportunity. “We…” He reaches out and puts his arm around Lucy, pulling her close. “We are very fond of each other. She is a great help to me, Your Grace.”

“In matters of war? I have not yet met the woman that was.” Philip turns on his heel to pick up his goblet again, which is probably a good thing as he misses Lucy’s appalled little huff. “I find that excessive reliance on one’s wife is not a trait to be celebrated, frankly. But for such touching marital fidelity, I can allow it. And you will be taking those others as well?”

“Yes,” Flynn says. “We will go together, my lord, or we will not go at all.”

Lucy glances up at him, as if impressed by this display of solidarity, and Philip considers it. Finally he says, “Very well. You may take your manservant and the heathen. We will discuss the arrangements tomorrow – I break my fast after Lauds, you will join me then. In the meanwhile, it does grow quite late, and you must have had a wearying journey from… Castile. You and Lady Lucy may repair upstairs, I will have a chamber made ready. The other two may sleep in the hall with the rest of the serving folk.”

Flynn thinks that despite everything, this may be his favorite mission yet, especially when this arrangement is conveyed to Wyatt and Rufus. Wyatt looks like he is about to spit fire at the thought that Flynn gets to go to an actual room with Lucy, while he and Rufus are expected to crash with the rest of the castle’s residents who don’t have their own quarters, who push aside the trestle tables and bed down in the dirty rushes of the great hall. “Look,” Wyatt says. “Can’t we just go back to the hotel? We paid extra for that room.”

When this is translated to him, Philip raises an elegant black eyebrow. “Leave my palace, you mean? No, I don’t see how that will be necessary. And since when does a manservant voice opinions on these things? I suggest more beating, to be frank.”

“So do I,” Flynn says with fervor, earning himself a dirty look from Lucy. “You are a wise and just man, Your Grace. A gentleman and a scholar.”

Philip gives the amused little smile of someone who sups on flattery daily, but is not above enjoying the taste. “That’s settled, then? Tomorrow, after Lauds. Good night.”

They echo it clumsily back to him, servants appear with the same well-trained speed, and Wyatt and Rufus are shown off to the hall (both glaring at Flynn, convinced – not without reason – that this is his fault) and Flynn and Lucy climb a set of tightly winding, narrow stone steps to a bedchamber on the next floor. At the sight of it, Flynn supposes that he doesn’t get to laugh too much at Wyatt and Rufus, unfortunately. The bed will fit Lucy nicely, but cut him off at about the knees, unless he curls up like a shrimp (and for that matter, if she wants him in it). Jesus. Midgets.

“Well,” Lucy says, once they’ve shut the door. “That was a disaster, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose.” Flynn isn’t honestly sure what constitutes a disaster anymore. “If you mean that we know where Richard is now, but because we’re supposed to travel there and spy on him on Philip’s behalf. And he’s not an idiot, he’s not going to let us go alone. He’ll send men with us, likely including the captain. We’ll have to lose them before we can even think about whatever we need to do with Richard.”

“So Rittenhouse is here,” Lucy says. “Both in Paris, and in Poitiers with Richard. They have more than one agent, they have plenty of moving pieces. And there’s a strong possibility that we’re playing exactly into their trap by going at all, but – ”

“But we can’t not go,” Flynn finishes grimly. “For any number of reasons. So yes. I suppose it’s a disaster.”

Lucy considers this, then gives a firm little nod. “We’ll figure it out,” she says. “We always do. Lauds is going to come early. We should get some sleep.”

Flynn glances at her awkwardly, but Lucy doesn’t seem inclined to challenge their sleeping arrangements. So, after he shucks the dirty 1799 coat and shoes, and she strips off to her shift, they crawl into the bed. He hikes his feet up, grumbling under his breath. The mattress is stuffed with straw and goose feathers, not entirely uncomfortable, but still scratchy, and the pillow is not what you would call ample. Not that he’s suddenly going to kick up a fuss about less-than-luxury accommodations, but he’ll wind up with a permanent crick in his back if they have to spend too many nights like this. He finds himself actually looking forward to getting to Richard’s court, much of a clusterfuck as it is likely to be, for the sole reason that Richard, in keeping with his larger-than-life reputation, had a stature to match: he’s estimated to have stood six-foot-four or five. His palace will be made with the comforts of a tall man in mind. About damn time.

Lucy drifts off quickly, though Flynn doesn’t, mind too busy with plans and possibilities and what the hell they’re going to do next – though he does steal a moment or two to watch her sleep. Besides, they’re very close to Notre Dame, and the fucking monks just have to punctiliously ring those bells, don’t they. He’s awoken once at midnight, again at three AM, and has given up all hope of getting back to sleep by the time the greyness is seeping into their room and it’s time to get up. But he must have dropped under enough not to notice when a servant came in and laid out new clothes for them. He reprimands himself for this carelessness – what if they had tried to do something else? Sloppy.

Nonetheless, there is nothing for it. Lucy has a new dress in blue, sleeves and neck trimmed in embroidery, a girdle and a fashionable bit of gauzy headwear that Flynn tells her is called a toque, a cloak with fox fur, and other garments more suitable for a respectable middle-class lady. As for Flynn, it’s clear that they have had to scramble, but they’ve come up with a tunic, braies, and boots, along with a green cloak that fastens over one shoulder with a bronze pin and makes him feel like a Viking. His toes cram against the end of the boots when he walks, and he’s tempted to keep his colonial shoes, but he might as well go for the look. The other ones are too small anyway. (This is a recurring problem in his life.)

Lucy eyes him approvingly once he’s changed, which makes Flynn think it was definitely worth it, and he offers his arm to escort her down the stairs, across the cool blue courtyard, and into the palace chapel, where the king and his household are hearing Lauds. Wyatt and Rufus are there already; they’ve managed to get some slightly nicer clothes as well, though there is still straw in Wyatt’s hair and he glares suspiciously at their arm-in-arm entrance. He gets glared at in return by Flynn, glances away, and reminds himself to deal with this later.

To his surprise, and to his grief, Flynn finds the service oddly comforting. It’s in Latin, which even he can’t really follow aside from a word here and there, but he’s been to enough High Church Catholic masses to know the drill, and it makes him think of the ones that Lorena took him to. They went to Italy on their honeymoon, there were tiny ancient churches everywhere, many of whom still offered services in the pre-Vatican II style. Flynn looks up at the light sifting through the diamonded window, and finds himself choking back tears. Kyrie, he thinks. Kyrie eleison. Not for him – he’s given up on that a while ago – but for them. In nominee Patri, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Can see Lorena next to him in the pew, crossing herself as the crucifix passes, and laughing over coffee afterward over how much she hates the fusty patriarchal nonsense of the old guard. Her faith was always a contradiction, a struggle and a question, but she never relinquished it altogether. God, how he misses her.

Flynn is brought back to earth with a start when the service is over, and everyone begins to file out. Philip catches his eye over the household’s heads, and tips his own in a significant manner, so Flynn changes direction and follows him, Lucy perforce tagging along. Wyatt and Rufus troop over as well, as Philip leads them through the hall and into his private solar. It’s a combination living room/dining room/study, with large windows to admit sunlight (hence the name), tapestries on the walls to keep the chill out, and a table currently set with breakfast. Everyone is hungry enough that it looks very good, and once Philip has taken his seat, they do the same. They also have to wait until he starts to eat before they do, but fortunately that is not very long. Flynn asks, “Are we leaving today, my lord?”

“Yes.” Philip sips his breakfast wine. “I’ve arranged an escort to accompany you. The roads may be dangerous, after all, and if you insist on taking your wife along, surely we have a duty to see her safe. It will not be large, only a dozen men, and they will be under strict instructions not to be seen with you when you arrive in Poitiers. You are, after all, not to give Richard any indication as to where you hail from, or my role in this endeavor.”

Flynn starts to say something, then stops. While this saves them the hassle of having to lose their guards first, and also trying to find their way to Poitiers by themselves, which would clearly be a nightmare, “a dozen men” is still obviously a lot more than there are of them. Even he and Wyatt would have their work cut out for them trying to take on a dozen knights, if for any reason they should discover that to be necessary, and probably half of them are Rittenhouse or Rittenhouse-trained. After a pause, Flynn says, “And do you think Richard will be fooled by that?”

“You’d best hope he is, mustn’t you?” Philip gives him a mild look. “Or that you can offer him something he wishes to hear? It is quite important that you do.”

“Meaning what?”

“I don’t see how I am obligated to share that information with my mercenary.” Philip shrugs, then smiles, raising his cup. “To your health. I daresay you will need it.”

Flynn daresays they will, and they finish breakfast in terse silence, Wyatt and Rufus not quite daring to glare at either Flynn or Philip one-on-one, but making it very clear that they would like to. Then they are shown out to the courtyard, where the dozen men (including the English-speaking captain, whose name is apparently Gerard) are waiting for them. Because they will be leaving the city and traveling on the roads, Flynn and Wyatt are allowed to carry swords. These are a lot heavier than they look, and while it’s impossible not to feel extremely cool when you belt one on like goddamn Aragorn from Lord of the Rings, there is also the fact that they will be flailing like idiots if they actually try to fight with them. (Well, Wyatt will; Flynn feels confident he can learn on the fly, but he’s under no illusions as to who would win in a pitched fight.) Some of the men are also in chainmail shirts, but those weigh thirty pounds and you have to be trained to bear the weight, much less stand up, move around, and fight in them. Mounted knights are the Panzer brigades of their day, and if they are crashing toward you with a ten-foot-long lance on a heavy warhorse, then God have mercy on your soul. (Plate armor won’t come into vogue for about another century and a half, but they do just fine without it right now.)

The horse part, at least, Flynn is excited about. There are four: two knights’ coursers for him and Wyatt (Flynn can manage it, but that is going to be a lot of horse for Wyatt – normally a servant would have a much worse mount, but it seems that Philip prefers speed over societal observance, as well as possibly not believing that Wyatt is really a manservant). There’s a gentler palfrey for Lucy, suitable for a lady, and a common mule for Rufus, who eyes it with a Really??! expression. Apparently they don’t feel the need to waste good French horseflesh on a black heathen, even if Rufus’s attendance at chapel this morning “proves” that he is not a Saracen. “Can we go to Spain yet?” he grumbles. “That sounds better.”

“No.” Flynn helps Lucy onto her horse (he knows they rode at least once, trying to catch up to him and Jesse James, but this is still not their forte), then steps lightly up into his stirrups, just to prove he can. He gathers up the reins and gets to know his mount a bit, cantering quick circles around the bailey, while Wyatt and his mount are still having a difference of opinion over who is controlling who here. Much as it’s enjoyable to watch him suffer, Flynn sighs and supposes that once again, he is going to have to be helpful. “Be firm,” he advises. “It’s a warhorse, it’s been trained to be contrary. Needs a few hits with the reins.”

“Great,” Wyatt grumbles. “It’ll be just like riding you.”

Flynn gives him an arch look, as if inviting Wyatt to reflect on how that sounded, and Wyatt makes a faint choking noise which would be extremely enjoyable in other circumstances. Rufus divides a judgmental stare between them and gets onto his mule, which then, in true mulish fashion, refuses to go anywhere. It is finally coaxed to do so after a few solid kicks from Rufus, which Flynn approves of; at least someone’s getting the point. Once they have all managed to not fall off their mounts (or the trio has, at any rate), the portcullis is opened, they start to move, and canter down the bridge and toward the Paris streets.

It’s a fine, watery-pale morning, not quite None, and Flynn is almost able to enjoy the sensation of riding again, even as he keeps a very sharp eye on everything around them, the hustle of the morning commerce, and how Lucy is doing with the palfrey. He tries to guess how long this will take. It’s a little over two hundred miles southwest from Paris to Poitiers, a ride of barely two hours on a modern TGV, but that, obviously, is not the case here. A man riding hard can do thirty or forty miles in a day; a king’s procession can sometimes barely make ten. At the most optimistic end, it’ll be at least a week. But Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus will be in total agony if they ride that hard for that long, which even Flynn feels a little bad for.

There’s also the fact that the further they get away from Paris, the less use their French will be, and that was limited to start with. They just got by with Philip, but he speaks langue d’oïl, the northern French that becomes modern French. Richard himself also speaks that (though really, how to talk to him is the least of their problems right now), but the further south they go, the more it will turn into southern French, langue d’oc or Occitan, which is considerably different from and not necessarily mutually intelligible with Old French. They’ll have their friendly and not-at-all-evil guides for most of the trip, but once they get to Poitiers, communication is going to be even more of a pain. Flynn almost (almost) hopes the place is indeed crawling up the ass with Rittenhouse agents. At least they will speak English.

Flynn blows out a breath as they reach the city gates, and with the crowds and grime and churches and bridges and towers of Paris behind them, the world opens up into a sudden and almost shocking expanse of green ahead. Cities stop here in a way they don’t in the modern world, when they’re surrounded by rings and rings of suburbs and feeder communities and residential neighborhoods, until you finally transition into the countryside by means of a highway. There’s none of that here. There is Paris, and then there is no Paris, aside from a scattering of cottages. The road snakes off into the distance, a single, muddy track. It’s going to be a very long trip, in more ways than one.

Flynn considers it, and steals one more sidelong glance at Lucy. Then he puts his heels into his horse’s side, decides it’s not really worth it to look back now, and so, the wind in his face, he doesn’t.

[sepiadice]

Tales of Genius Ch. 1: Mystery in North Fort

(8/5/2018)

Thus I return to the Game Master’s screen, bearing a shirt that labels me of such![1]

Which is good, because there’s going to be no further updates with the Fallen Island D&D campaign. It’s, in theory, still running, but I found myself waiting for an excuse to get out, so I decided it’s healthier to just silently leave.[2]

As previously mentioned, I ran a short GURPS session with the Dungeon Fantasy Box set (and its I smell a Rat module), after which the group and I had a nice long talk and it was decided it was best not to return. Still have nostalgia looking through the revised third edition rule book, but it’s not a good fit for me or my players.[3] Too granular.

Which brings us to Genesys, a system I discovered relatively recently. It’s a generic system, has a narrative focus, and was used by a podcast I like and trust![4] Also, it’s not Powered by the Apocalypse or Fate, neither of which I’ve played but I’m just tired of hearing about them.

So, sit down and prepare yourself for the first episode of a SepiaDice Campaign (yet to be named).

CAST:

Eli Roberts: (Played by Lyons) Child of Clio. Doctor, travelling to write an medical text akin to Gray’s Anatomy

Olivia Grayson: (Played by Maddie) Child of Thalia. Apprentice to Eli.

Fromthe: (Played by Jose) Child of Calliope. Military veteran and current mercenary.

(These references to greek muses shall be explained another time)

DATE: WINTER 1911

SETTING: NORTH FORT

The northernmost town of Astree, sitting in The Tines, the mountain range that separates Astree from its northern neighbor Hervarar. North Fort was once a military fortress standing stalwart against the once consistent wars Harvarar inflicted upon Astree. However, a treaty was forged several generations ago putting an end to such conflict. Soldiers were still stationed in North Fort, just in case. Gradually, however, merchants travelled there more, families came to stay, and the fortress grew into a proper town.

It’s during a harsh winter that our story opens.

For there’s been an avalanche, cutting North Fort off from the rest of Astree. The town has been forced to start using their emergency supplies. However, this has revealed a problem.

North Fort’s mayor[5] has summoned three adventurers who happen to be in town for their own reasons.

The mayor lays out the situation: supplies have been going missing, which could spell doom for the town if the rationing keeps being undermined. No one can be above suspicion, which is why the mayor decided to go outside the City Watch. The party arrived after the thefts started (but before the avalanche), hence why the Mayor is choosing to trust them.

Eli accepts while the youthful Olivia and Fromthe distract themselves, possibly with yo-yos.

To help with the investigation, The Mayor supplies the Duty Roster of the guards stationed outside the emergency supply storage (a converted pantry filled with hard tack, potatoes, and probably barrels of water) and agreed to having a town guard meet them at the same location.

The party then immediately ignored this appointment to suspect the general high class and went to question the proprietress of the general goods store, Isabel. Fromthe, who is currently a merchant of undisclosed goods, tried to glean some information, but didn’t get anything new because Fromthe just annoyed Isabel.

The trio reconvene outside, talked in circles for a bit, then decided to ask a traveling merchant at the local tavern, The Public House.[6]

There, Fromthe once again learned it’s a small town without much of an upper class outside The Mayor and the one member of the clergy, both of whom have more social capital than financial wealth.

Finally, Eli takes his subordinates to the store house, where they meet Officier Morty.[7] They investigate the storehouse, and find a logbook with terrible handwriting, which noted Intellect Eli cannot decipher. Olivia could, however.

The logbook showed that initially the vanishing supplies were minor enough to be marked up as a counting error, before gradually becoming more brazen. The only visitors of note were The Mayor, Debra, the local priest, and a few guards.

Next stop: The local church of Polyhymnia!

Once a small, utilitarian chapel for a military base, it’s been renovated and expanded to a full, proper church.

Eli heads in while Olivia decides to scale the side of the building. And falling off. Fromthe catches her, but sprains his ankles, which Olivia fails to heal.  Inside, Eli discovers a detail I forgot to introduce earlier (but I managed to get away with!): townspeople are getting sick, and are coming to Father Brown for advice.

Eli questions the priest, who is quiet and unassuming, and agrees to see a few patients in a side room.  A skilled examination uncovers an unfortunate truth: it’s a mass poisoning with baneroot.[8] Oh no.  Olivia comes in and Eli fixes Fromthe’s ankles, and then sends them out to investigate where the baneroot may have originated.

Olivia, noted druidic sort, walks the streets, but finds nothing in the public places.

Fromthe again goes to The Public House, and finds a travelling plants peddler, who is drunk. The peddler reveals that, yes, he’s sold some baneroot (it’s got a pretty enough flower), but not to whom.

Then the plant seller passes out drunk, and Fromthe and Olivia grab his ledger and jot down notes.  While it does reveal a list of customers, the peddler has segregated the stock count from who bought what. However, a certain priest is included.

Meanwhile, Eli continues to question the sick. Seems that those regularly attending church haven’t gotten sick, and those who started attending after getting sick started getting better.[9]

After the party meets back up and compares notes, they go to the Mayor with their suspicions in regards to the poisoning.

The Mayor isn’t very excited, since he doesn’t really want to accuse such a prominent community member without firm evidence. Also, he hired the adventurers to find out who’s stealing supplies. Also, maybe tell the Guard Captain about crimes?

Now reminded of their job,[10] the party goes to question Debra to see if she knows if The Mayor might be the thief. Specifically, Fromthe is pushed to question her.

Since The Mayor hired them and Debra is likewise innocent, I handed the secretary to Lyons to role-play.[11] It gets awkward and I needed to feed the lack of information, but it was a pretty good exercise.

If your players are up for it, GMs should give them NPCs to play. It’s a good way to keep them engaged in scenes without their characters, and Genesys in particular handles it well since motivation can easily be determined by the social skill rolls, and information is easy enough to feed.

Now having progressed a little on the thefts, the party returns to the poisonings, choosing to just confront Father Brown themselves.  Not wanting to cause a scene, the party discreetly takes Father Brown into the side room to accuse him.  Father Brown attacks with magic. Eli and Fromthe take point while Olivia flees to do other things.

Because it was getting pretty late, I went ahead and ran combat until all three players got to use the combat mechanics (since the main goal was to test the system).

Olivia’s turn was breaking into Father Brown’s room and finding the poison and antidote plants growing, as well as the stolen supplies. It all comes together!

Now shot a little and seeing he’s outmatched, Father Brown is arrested and confesses. He’s a clergyman in a faraway town, and thus has little chance at promotion, so he had hoped to fake a miracle to increase his standing.

Mystery solved! Our heroes are awarded double rations, and all is well.

Except, the only way to the rest of Astree is still blocked by avalanche wreckage, and supplies are running low and are lightly poisoned.

But that’s a problem for another time.

In the end, the players claim to have had fun, and I didn’t feel like I was in a panic attack the whole time, so it was successful. Plus, the system was well regarded (even if we still need to get used to advantages and threats). I’m not ready to move onto the podcast phase myself, and I’m hoping to getting a little more character depth from the PCs, so I’ll just have to keep Game Mastering.

Until next time, may the dice make things interesting!

[1] Actual shirt I have now. It’s neat! [2] Basically, the DM officially lost all my good faith due to external matters, and I no longer wish to humor him. [3] Plus I’ve become disenchanted with Steve Jackson Games. Too much reliance on the Munchkin cash cow, too little support for GURPS and other games, and their use of Kickstarter needs to be discouraged. [4] Well, Campaign uses the Star Wars RPG system, but Genesys is that broadened. [5] Who I don’t think got named. The party named his secretary Debra, though. [6] North Fort are not noted for their inventive naming conventions. Practical people. [7] Named such because Lyons and I inexplicably opened the conversation with spineless voices. He switched when I named the guard. [8] Which I’m hoping is a fictitious plant, for my purposes. [9] This is something I should’ve been more on the ball with, and I should’ve done a better job intertwining the illness into the narrative earlier. [10] To be fair, it’s the same conspiracy, but they failed to connect them yet. [11] He likes playing flirty women.

[bltngames]

Game Review: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (2017)

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild might just be one of the best games Nintendo has ever made. Ever. Is that too hyperbolic? Should I reign it in a little?

So where does that put us? The Nintendo game I hold in the highest regard is Super Mario 64, which on top of just being a really good game, basically defined 3D character movement for the entire game industry. Everything from Uncharted to Grand Theft Auto and NieR Automata owes something to Super Mario 64 for establishing how to use an analog stick to control the action on screen. It was a revolution.

Breath of the Wild isn’t a revolution. This is a game cut from the same cloth as Skyrim or The Witcher 3 — an open-world fantasy game, with towns full of people and quest logs designed to distract. You’ve technically seen this game before, or at least parts of it, and on the surface it can be easy to brush it off as nothing more than a thinly veiled “me too” clone by way of The Legend of Zelda.

But here’s the deal: you’ve never played Nintendo’s version of this. Those other games I mentioned often prioritize production quality and narrative depth. A quest’s story in my examples is often more important than what you actually have to do in it, with the worst example being multiple quests in Skyrim that send you from one edge of the map miles away to the other edge just to kill a single enemy and then hike the entire distance back for your reward. Even on horseback, a quest like that would take hours of mind-numbing transit. The obvious (and likely intended) solution is to use the game’s fast travel system to teleport to the destination, complete the objective, and then teleport back, turning an all-day gameplay excursion into a something that takes less than 15 minutes. The problem is that this creates a disconnect where everything stops feeling real, because there’s no reaffirmation that these are places that exist. You come to view the world as nothing more than a piece of software that lets you materialize at your destination. There’s no sense of distance, no journey.

That’s simply not true with Breath of the Wild, which goes out of its way to make you feel like a part of the land of Hyrule. Not only does it feel like a real, lived-in space, it feels like one with thousands of years of tangible history. Ruins of what used to be litter the land, some more recent than others, but all purpose-built with a legacy of their own. The environment of Hyrule is as much a character here as anyone else, and its battle-scarred vistas tell a lonely, somber tale.

Zelda is one of Nintendo’s most narrative-rich franchises, which allows it to slip into Skyrim’s skin with ease. Just the same, Breath of the Wild is a game about journeys. It’s a game where you look over your shoulder and think: an hour ago, I was on top of that mountain. I have come so far, done so much, and seen so many things. Yes, it has fast travel and horse riding if you really need to get somewhere quickly. But why would you? Breath of the Wild is a game where there’s always something on the horizon calling out to you. Horses and fast travel might get you in the general vicinity of where you want to go, but never close enough. Eventually you have to take matters into your own hands (often literally) and venture forth by yourself to discover Hyrule’s mysteries, one cliff face at a time. Literally the entire point of this game is to meticulously sift through the world inch by inch, and it manages to feel like magic basically the entire time.

You also connect to this world in other ways. Breath of the Wild features surprisingly robust artificial intelligence and physics systems, and you’re given tools perfect for playing around in this space. Rather than acquire a stable of items from dungeons (as in past Zelda games), Breath of the Wild gives you five core abilities during its tutorial and then turns you loose on the world to use them as you please. Unlike, say, Ocarina of Time’s hookshot, which could only be used on specific hookshot targets, these five abilities are far more utilitarian in their approach. They allow you to interact with the environment in ways most open world games shy away from, like picking up physics objects or generating platforms over tricky terrain. In addition to helping you solve puzzles and navigate the world, many of these abilities have combat applications, leading to fun games of cat and mouse with Ganon’s minions.

In one particular example, I came upon a camp of pig-like Bokoblins that had set up inside the ruins of an old building. I had mostly cleared the place out, but there was still one lone Boko on patrol outside completely unaware of what had happened to the rest of the camp. From the door, he peered inside. Bokoblins don’t have great eyesight, so from the distance he was at, he didn’t really have a chance to identify me before I darted out of sight. He obviously knew he saw something suspicious, so he walked over, grabbed a club from the camp’s weapons pile outside, and then headed inside the ruins to investigate. By this point, I’d climbed on top of the ruins and was watching him from what would be the roof, if this building had one (it did not). He headed to the last place he saw me and sniffed around, hoping to figure out what he’d seen. By now his back was turned to me, so I jumped from my vantage point above him and came down on his head with my spear for a quick kill. This kind of emergent gameplay is a first for The Legend of Zelda, and it makes every combat encounter feel unique.

Perhaps Breath of the Wild’s greatest strength is its willingness to embrace this kind of emergent player expression. Nintendo could have very easily locked a lot of its puzzles and encounters down, discouraging all but the one “true” solution, but they didn’t. It brings to mind the elements that made a game like Minecraft so captivating; the only thing stopping you from getting somewhere or doing something is your own ingenuity. Nothing in the game ever has just one solution, and it fully embraces whatever ways you can find to bend its rules. Previous Zeldas were full of jigsaw puzzles that had to be assembled in the same way every single time. Breath of the Wild is more of an actual test of problem solving skills, and one where my answer might be different from your answer and neither one of us is wrong.

Of course, even the best games have their flaws, and Breath of the Wild is definitely not a perfect game. In particular is the game’s performance — I played on the Wii U, and there, Breath of the Wild suffers occasional choppy framerates and sometimes more significant stuttering. Knocking down a Moblin can sometimes make the whole game freeze for up to two full seconds. Zelda is undoubtedly simulating a lot of stuff behind the scenes, between physics, climate systems, fire propagation, and artificial intelligence, so it’s understandable when the game threatens to buckle under it’s own weight, but it’s still a problem worth talking about. My understanding is that the Switch version is also affected by many of these technical issues, but with less severity. But, even on the Wii U, I found them to be momentary annoyances and not anything to really cast the game in a negative light. For 75% of my time in Hyrule, the game performed just fine (and it’s worth mentioning that during the process of writing this review, Nintendo published a patch for Zelda that optimizes the game just a little bit more to reduce framerate drops).

The other elephant in the room deals the game’s systems, particularly in weapon durability and weather. If you use a given weapon too much, it will eventually shatter. Often, I’d leave a combat encounter with fewer or worse weapons than when I started, but once I learned not to get too attached to any given sword, shield or bow, it ceased to be an issue. Breath of the Wild is a game about making do with what you’ve got and building an ever-changing strategy around that. Enemies also scale in strength over time, providing you with a drip feed of slightly more powerful gear as you play. That being said, the game definitely could have benefited from ways to repair fragile weapons, because just about everything breaks after only a few minutes of use.

Weather, on the other hand, was probably the single biggest point of frustration for me in Breath of the Wild. You’re given an on-screen weather forecast, presumably so you can plan accordingly should something like rain come up, but sometimes it can be unpredictable as you move through the world and suddenly shift into a new biome with different weather patterns. In one particularly ridiculous scenario, I found myself stranded on a rocky alcove because if I climbed up even ten feet it would trigger a biome change and begin raining, making it too slick to continue upwards. The moment I’d drop off the cliff (or more likely slip off), the rain would suddenly vanish. Sometimes, it doesn’t make any logical sense at all, such as the time I had to light fires as part of a quest and it began raining just long enough (about six seconds) to snuff out my flames and make me start over. Nothing in the forecast called for rain, nothing on my HUD changed, it just started pouring rain and then instantly stopped. You very quickly learn to dread rainstorms, because there’s not a lot you can do about them except wait for the weather to clear.

Regardless, these problems barely register as a blip on the game’s radar. I know it can be easy to sometimes get frustrated with Nintendo’s output and design philosophies, specifically with regards to past Zelda games like Twilight Princess and Skyward Sword, but when this company pulls together and fires on all cylinders, the end result is something truly incredible to behold. Breath of the Wild is a tremendous game; even after finishing the game and putting in more than 140 hours, I wasn’t ready to leave Hyrule. I was still finding new discoveries. New places I hadn’t been to yet. No game that I can ever remember playing in the 30+ years since the NES has gotten its hooks into me this deep for this long. It may not be a revolution, but with Breath of the Wild, Nintendo has still run circles around the industry just the same. Under no circumstances should you allow yourself to miss this game.

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New Xbox One Games for November 11 to 15

New Xbox One Games for November 11 to 15.

Romancing SaGa 3 (November 11)

The celebrated RPG classic comes West for the first time! Experience a brand-new HD remaster of the legendary 1995 RPG masterpiece introducing optimized graphics, a new dungeon to explore, new scenarios and a new game+ function.

Bee Simulator (November 12)

See the world through the eyes of a bee! Explore a world inspired by Central Park where you can take part in bee races, collect pollen from rare flowers and defy dangerous wasps. Play with friends or family in three game modes, including co-op and PvP on split screen. The hive awakens as the sun's first rays warm the horizon. It's time to test your wings, receive orders from the Queen and begin your first mission. And that's just the start of your adventures. Humans want to cut down the tree that holds your hive, so your fate – and that of the whole swarm – rests on your tiny shoulders!

Yaga (November 12)

Smash, clobber and bash the murderous legends of Slavic mythology in this darkly funny action role-playing game that changes every time you play. Play as Ivan, a one-handed blacksmith with incredibly bad luck, who must take on the impossible tasks given to him by the tzar. All the while the mysterious witch, Baba Yaga, watches over Ivan’s fate. The world of Yaga is a world steeped in Slavic folklore and ancient Pagan beliefs. Featuring a head-bobbing Romanian hip-hop soundtrack from Subcarpați and striking, hand-drawn 2D artwork. Yaga is an authentic love letter to childhood fables from Romanian indie developer, Breadcrumbs Interactive. Bludgeon the ancient monsters of Slavic folklore using a vast arsenal of hammers and tools forged by Ivan’s own hands.Your actions change Ivan’s story, his reputation, and the upgrades he can choose.Experiment in the deep forging system to make weapons like teleporting lightning hammers and hookshot pitchforks.Explore the combinations of talismans, magic items, blessings, perks, and curses to fundamentally change how Ivan plays.Multiple endings, multiple ways of solving encounters, procedural map, lots of characters to encounter, and hidden secrets mean Yaga is meant to be played over and over again.Ivan’s grandma just wants him to find a wife. Don’t disappoint her!

Mad Games Tycoon (November 12)

Build your own gaming empire by starting your own game studio in the early 80s. The journey begins in a small garage with little money and limited resources. Create new game concepts, set up your team and develop the next million hit. Research new technologies, train employees and buy new and larger office space.

Spider Solitaire F (November 13)

Spider Solitaire F is the first of our “F” (Flyhigh) series. We aim to bring the fun and challenge of classic games to Universal Windows Platform. In Spider Solitaire F we have prepared challenges that range from easy to very challenging; there are a total of 100 sets to solve. For those learning how to play there is a Hint function, and you can also go ‘one back’ in moves. Spider Solitaire F is perfect for calm and relaxing moments. We hope it will be an enjoyable challenge!

Sparklite (November 14)

Sparklite is an action-adventure set in the whimsical and ever-changing land of Geodia. Battle foes in top-down action using an arsenal of gadgets, guns, and gear. Explore dangerous corners of the procedurally generated world, take down titans of the mining industry, and harness the power of Sparklite! Everything in the world of Geodia is tied together by Sparklite... it's the life force of the planet, and the inhabitants have learned how to channel it safely. The blue, glowing ore can be harnessed providing a low-level, rechargeable power source. Or, for those brave or greedy enough, it can be consumed for a surge of power with grave consequences. Geodia’s self-titled "Baron" has devised a plot to mine the world’s Sparklite core to meet his own ends. Mining Sparklite in large quantities, the Baron repurposes the ore to fuel his powerful war machines, but the pollution from the consumed Sparklite is corrupting the world. Animals have turned into violent monsters, and the environment is rotting away. The stricken land of Geodia has a natural defence in its Sparklite core. Periodically, the core causes a Disruption which rearranges the world, setting back the Baron’s efforts. Our heroine, Ada, must stop the Baron before he can obtain the core and gain the power to create a new world in which he has ultimate power. A plucky mechanic, Ada will need to use her cunning and skills to defeat the Baron’s henchmen across five distinct zones. Ada will have to work with Geodia’s weird and wonderful inhabitants if she’s to face the Baron and put paid to his deadly plans before it’s too late. Our hero, Ada, must travel to each zone of the world to shut down the Baron’s Digsites before it’s too late...

Fractured Minds (November 14)

Fractured Minds is an immersive artistic short game, exploring anxiety and mental health issues. Winner of the BAFTA Young Game Designers Award, Fractured Minds is a game created by Emily Mitchell, then 17-years-old, with the hope of aiding understanding and awareness of mental illness. Embark on a journey through the human psyche and experience six atmospheric and thought-provoking chapters, each symbolising a different aspect or challenge associated with mental health issues; from isolation to anxiety, with everyday situations being distorted beyond recognition. Raw, emotive and earnest, Fractured Minds demonstrates that video games are capable of communicating vital messages in imaginative ways. It is a game that seeks to encourage empathy and champion support for the millions living with mental health issues. Wired Productions is proud to support Safe In Our World, a gaming industry charity striving for mental health awareness. 80% of the proceeds will help fund Emily’s career as well as future initiatives from Safe In Our World. Features: Take a personal and honest journey through the human psyche.Interact with your environment to overcome challenges and puzzles across 6 levels, each inspired by real life obstacles.Explore the emotions surround emptiness, anxiety, depression and paranoia.Enjoy a rich and immersive soundtrack including “Silence” provided kindly by Kai Engel.A thought-provoking experience about what it means to live with mental health.

Valfaris (November 15)

After mysteriously vanishing from galactic charts, the fortress of Valfaris has suddenly reappeared in the orbit of a dying sun. Once a self-contained paradise, the grandiose citadel now plays host to an ever-growing darkness. Therion, a fearless and proud son of Valfaris, returns to his home to uncover the truth of its doomed fate and to challenge the arcane evil at its very heart. Key Features: Skulls in space! Gore in space! Metal in space!Savagely reduce foes to piles of gibs with an array of brutal weaponryExplore a diverse range of tainted environments as you venture ever deeper into the dark world of ValfarisDominate ranks of deadly enemies and bosses, from the weird to the grotesque (and some that are just grotesquely weird)Gorge your eyes on devastatingly awesome pixel art hand-crafted by Andrew GilmourFeel the power of a seismic soundtrack by extreme metaller and former Celtic Frost guitarist, Curt Victor BryantForged from the ground-up by the team behind cult hit Slain: Back From Hell

Scarlett Mysteries: Cursed Child (November 15)

FANTASTIC HIDDEN OBJECT PUZZLE ADVENTURE GAME FROM THE CREATORS OF ENIGMATIS AND GRIM LEGENDS! From an early age, Scarlett Everitt displayed a gift for the paranormal, as ghosts and spirits accompanied her every step. Desperate to protect her from an encroaching darkness, her father, Johnathan, placed her in an orphanage run by nuns. Years later, Scarlett returns to find her dad, and finds a clue that leads her to the Victorian mansion of a baronet named Steameyer. LOOK FOR CLUES TO THE WHEREABOUTS OF YOUR FATHER! As the protagonist tries to locate her missing father, a clue leads her to the train station next to Baronet Steameyer's mansion and factory. USE YOUR PSYCHIC ABILITIES! Scarlett possesses a remarkable gift that enables her to see where her father resided and traveled in the past. SOLVE THE RIDDLES OF A VICTORIAN RESIDENCE! Scarlett hopes to find her father while exploring Steameyer's mansion. However, the huge house hides terrifying secrets and dreadful mysteries. LEARN THE TRUTH HIDDEN IN THE DARK PAST! What connects the heroine to the Steameyer family, and what dramatic fate befell the mysterious heiress to their fortune? Help Scarlett learn the truth! Features: Use your psychic abilities!Visit nearly 30 Victorian locations!Immerse yourself in interactive gothic horror!Test yours skills with 36 puzzles and HO scenes!Experience a Steam Age adventure unlike any other!

Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order (November 15)

A galaxy-spanning adventure awaits in STAR WARS Jedi: Fallen Order, a new 3rd person action-adventure title from Respawn Entertainment. This narratively-driven single player game puts you in the role of a Jedi Padawan who narrowly escaped the purge of Order 66 following the events of Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith. On a quest to rebuild the Jedi Order, you must pick up the pieces of your shattered past to complete your training, develop new powerful Force abilities, and master the art of the iconic lightsaber - all while staying one step ahead of the Empire and its deadly Inquisitors. While mastering your abilities, players will engage in cinematically-charged lightsaber and Force combat designed to deliver the kind of intense STAR WARS lightsaber battles as seen in the films. Players will need to approach enemies strategically, sizing up strengths and weaknesses while cleverly utilizing your Jedi training to overcome your opponents and solve the mysteries that lay in your path. STAR WARS fans will recognize iconic locations, weapons, gear, and enemies while also meeting a roster of fresh characters, locations, creatures, droids and adversaries new to STAR WARS. As part of this authentic STAR WARS story, fans will delve into a galaxy recently seized by the Empire. As a Jedi hero-turned-fugitive, players will need to fight for survival while exploring the mysteries of a long-extinct civilization all in an effort to rebuild the remnants of the Jedi Order as the Empire seeks to erase the Jedi completely. KEY FEATURES: Cinematic, Immersive Combat – Jedi: Fallen Order delivers the fantasy of becoming a Jedi through its innovative lightsaber combat system – striking, parrying, dodging - partnered with a suite of powerful Force abilities you’ll need to leverage to overcome obstacles that stand in your way. This combat system is intuitive to pick up, but takes training and practice to fully master its nuances as you gain new powers and abilities along your adventure.A New Jedi Story Begins - As a former Padawan on the run from the Empire, you must complete your training before Imperial Inquisitors discover your plan to revive the Jedi Order. Aided by a former Jedi Knight, a cantankerous pilot, and a fearless droid, you must escape the evil machinations of the Empire in a story-driven adventure. Explore and overcome a wide range of challenges focused on combat, exploration, and puzzle-solving.The Galaxy Awaits - Ancient forests, windswept rock faces, and haunted jungles are all unique biomes you’ll explore in Jedi: Fallen Order, with the freedom to decide when and where you go next. As you unlock new powers and abilities, opportunities open up to re-traverse maps in new ways; leveraging the Force to augment the way you explore. Move quickly, however, as the Empire is actively hunting your every step in their effort to exterminate all remnants of the Jedi Order.

Tokyo Warfare Turbo (November 15)

Tokyo Warfare Turbo is the ultimate tank arcade where WWII and modern tanks, APC's and AA vehicles face each other in the battlefield. Command your multi ton beasts across Japan or the bonus desert and winterlands maps. Take sides among the six factions available and unlock dozens of tanks as you go up in rank. Tanks of different eras and factions can be teamed without restrictions. Choose between ANIME & HD styles anytime, fine tune gameplay, visuals and other features available. Features: Xbox One X enhancedRaytracing for reflections, boost graphics to the max on the X versionConfigurable Battles, number of kill, time, location and teamsTweackable visuals aswell as the crew voicesTweackable gameplay , enable pickups, set how arcade and fast paced you what it to beThree game modesDocens of tanksMultiple music styles including Jpop, Rock and ElectronicRemapeable inputKeyboard Mouse Support

Woven the Game (November 15)

Welcome to Woven Welcome to a world where woollen creatures once lived in peace. Stuffy is a well-meaning but rather clumsy stuffed animal that wanders the world alone. Glitch is a metal firefly that has lost its memory and identity. Was Stuffy left behind? Where did all these machines suddenly come from? And what does Glitch have to do with any of this? Join them on their journey through a world of wool, fabric and hidden dangers. Gameplay The world of Woven is filled with obstacles and challenges.You will have to find blueprints to modify Stuffy's shape and abilities. Elephant legs may be strong, but rabbit legs can jump. For every situation there is something that fits. Keep an eye out for hidden paths while you explore the world. Find secrets that reveal the forgotten history of the world. Read the full article