#quicker than you can say infinite regress

[cthulhuscoconuts]

In this essay I will argue that Descartes, henceforth refferd to as Deeznuts-

[aion-rsa]

Deathloop Proves Incredibly Flawed Games Can Still Be Masterpieces

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Deathloop‘s initial reviews have everyone buzzing about this timed PS5 exclusive from developer Arkane Studios (the team behind modern classics such as Dishonored 2 and Prey), but I’m a little worried that the positive buzz surrounding this game is going to give people the wrong impression about what kind of experience it actually is.

When a game starts getting perfect scores, it’s tempting to start telling yourself it must be perfect. Well, no game is perfect, and Deathloop is one of the most imperfect major games I’ve played in quite some time. It’s loaded with obvious shortcomings that will surely chase people away from its inherently divisive core gameplay.

Yet, I too am convinced that Deathloop is a masterpiece not just in spite of its flaws but, in some strange ways, because of them. Because a score can give you the wrong impression about why Deathloop is great, let’s take a slightly deeper look at this game’s problems, greatest qualities, and the strange relationship between the two that shows you just how rare a game like this really is.

Deathloop’s A.I. Is Shockingly Bad

The core of any immersive sim’s gameplay is the thrill you get from finding different solutions to complex problems. Do you go in guns blazing to show off your arsenal and abilities, or do you use stealth, hacking, and subversion to find a more subtle solution? That thrill of finding the perfect path forward (or even just your preferred one) is what makes games like Deus Ex, System Shock 2, and BioShock the classics they are. 

Sadly, Deathloop’s terrible A.I. limits the moment-to-moment appeal of its immersive sim gameplay. Enemies will regularly walk straight into their death, ignore bodies dropped inches behind them from great heights, and generally refuse to use even basic combat techniques to try to slow your progress.  

Deathloop’s woeful A.I. rarely inspires you to find those creative solutions that should define these types of games. You can still approach a situation however you’d like, but you’re rarely left with the feeling you’ve just found and executed the perfect plan since you’re pretty sure just about any plan would have been good enough to topple this game’s hapless goons. 

Deathloop Tries Too Hard to Hold Your Hand

Deathloop is a pretty complicated game built around a fairly unique premise. As such, I can certainly sympathize with developer Arkane’s decision to frontload the game with quite a few tutorial screens designed to explain the basics. 

Still, it feels like there was a better way to explain this game’s core concepts without relying on a series of screens filled with tiny text. For a game that does such a great job of subtly relaying nearly every other bit of information while letting you figure things out on your own (more on that later), it’s odd that Arkane chose to rely on such a conventual, straightforward, and often frustrating method of delivery. 

In fact, the somewhat sudden way this game pivots from guided gameplay to encouraging you to find organic solutions to complex problems might be too much for some and ultimately negate the good intentions of the title’s opening hours. 

Deathloop Doesn’t Feel Like a Next-Gen Game

Most people knew that the Covid-19 pandemic and global supply shortages were going to slow down an already slow next-gen transition process. We probably won’t start seeing a steady stream of “true” next-gen games until later in 2022, and I understand why that’s the case. 

That being said, I’m not sure Deathloop is entirely “worthy” of its current PS5 console exclusivity (the game is also available for PC). Aside from a few Dualsense features and quicker loading times, Deathloop feels like a game that probably could have been ported to the PS4 without sacrificing its best qualities. 

Considering how hard it is to find a next-gen console, I feel like this game probably should have been developed for PS4 and PS5. Microsoft may eventually offer some kind of backward compatibility once Deathloop comes to Xbox, but this title’s few obvious next-gen features aren’t a good enough reason to limit its initial reach. 

Deathloop’s Time Loop Is One of the Best In Video Game History

You probably know that Deathloop is a time loop game, and, thanks to a surprising number of new entries into that formerly niche genre, you probably know that means Deathloop is designed to make you repeat the same time period over and over again until you break the loop. 

However, you’ve got to play Deathloop to appreciate just how great its time loop really is. In fact, the way that Deathloop uses the time loop concept to slowly unravel its initially bewildering plot and enhance your understanding of what is possible in this game may just make it the best example of time loop design in video game history. 

I’ve already heard some say that having to repeat Deathloop’s basic structure over and over again starts to feel “grindy,” but in my experience, but there was honestly never a time when I felt too disappointed to start the loop over as doing so usually opened up exciting new opportunities or at least allowed me to learn from whatever mistake I just made that triggered the most recent reset.

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Deathloop’s Assassinations Are Some of the Most Satisfying Logic Puzzles Since Portal

While Deathloop’s poor A.I. makes battles against its basic enemies feel…basic, the battles against the game’s Visionaries (your “boss” targets) combine the best elements of Portal and recent Hitman games to form the most satisfying logic puzzles you’ll ever experience. 

Identifying your target and finding not just the perfect way to kill them but the perfect way to kill them that then allows you to seamlessly move on to the next target with enough time to spare is quite simply one of the greatest experiences I’ve had in a video game in the last 15 years. The number of possible ways to kill an individual target is bested only by the number of possible ways to kill every target in one perfect run.

It’s an approach that leads to a nearly infinite series of “aha” moments that never fail to provide the motivation you need to work your way through one more loop. 

Deathloop Brilliantly Repurposes the Best Qualities of the Roguelike Genre

At first, I was a little worried about Deathloop’s item rarity, skill finding, and progression/regression mechanics. During those early stages when the game is trying to explain so much to you in a short amount of time, the combination of all those roguelike systems started to feel like a bit much. 

However, you eventually discover that the reason those mechanics work so well together is that Deathloop brilliantly limits how many skills, weapons, and items you’re able to readily access during each loop. The result is a kind of roguelike experience where you (eventually) get to have some say in what your reset looks like and how close to “zero” you really have to start from.

I love a traditional roguelike experience, but between games like this, Returnal, and Hades that challenge the idea of “starting over,” it’s been fascinating to watch developers play with the boundaries of the roguelike genre and blend that genre with other concepts. 

Deathloop’s Multiplayer is a Brilliant Idea You May Choose to Ignore

In case you haven’t heard, Deathloop features a fascinating multiplayer component that allows other players to “invade” your game by controlling Julianna: a rival who will stop at nothing to kill the player and preserve the time loop. Julianna’s unique set of abilities allows invading players to easily disguise themselves and generally make your life hell.

That’s the great and annoying thing about this feature. See, if you choose to disable player-controlled Julianna invasions, the character will still “invade” your game but will instead be controlled by the A.I. Considering this game’s A.I. problems (see above), you don’t really get to experience how brilliant this concept is until you enabled the multiplayer component. 

At the same time, the “griefing” nature of this invasion system means that many people are going to find it to be quite annoying and even detrimental to the overall experience. I feel like this problem could have been solved by a stronger A.I. version of Julianna who comes closer to representing the challenge offered by human players without being quite as frustrating. 

Deathloop’s Incredible Environmental Storytelling Enhances a Sometimes Weak Narrative

Most of Deathloop’s storytelling is done through audio files, environmental clues, computer exchanges, and…well just about everything other than cutscenes and character-to-player dialog exchanges. Anyone who is familiar with Arkane’s previous works (most notably Prey) will be familiar with this basic approach. 

Arkane’s familiarity with this complicated form of storytelling generally results in some of the cleverest and most unexpected bits of narrative design I’ve ever seen, even by this studio’s lofty standards. It’s amazing that Arkane left it up to the player to discover so many vital plot points and character development moments, but that approach ultimately enhances the thrill of finding that one bit of information that puts every other piece of the puzzle in place.

However, the game’s brilliant approach to storytelling doesn’t entirely disguise the weakness of the overall narrative. I won’t get into spoilers here, but once you realize that Deathloop’s plot is more about the little moments and the journey rather the destination, you start to get the feeling that there was a more interesting overall story here that the developers just didn’t quite deliver.

Deathloop Isn’t For Everyone, and That’s What’s Great About It

Developer Arkane Studios has been criticized in the past for making a specific kind of game that rarely meets sales expectations. Some have wondered whether or not Arkane would be better off making at least a few concessions to the preferences of wider audiences just so they could help ensure that they’re able to continue making at least some kind of version of the games they make so well. 

Between Deathloop’s PS5 console exclusivity, Arkane-style design, and the fact it’s hard to even offer a basic description of the experience without getting into spoilers, I highly doubt that this is going to end up being a long-term best-seller or even just the studio’s best-selling game to date.

However, that’s kind of what makes Deathloop so great. Nearly all of the problems in Deathloop can be attributed to Arkane’s desire to focus on the things they do so well and not worry so much about whether or not someone who doesn’t really enjoy what this title is fundamentally going for is going to take a chance on it. 

I can’t speak to what would have happened if Arkane tried to make a few more changes for wider audiences or even just worked harder to break free of their bad habits, but what I do know is that they came up with a brilliant idea for a game and made that brilliant idea work despite the fact that it could have so easily fallen apart at any time. 

In a world where nothing is perfect, it’s hard to withhold the masterpiece label for something that somehow manages to get everything right. Like many of the most innovative and greatest games before it, Deathloop was made by a team of people committed to getting their biggest and best ideas right above all else.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

It’s easy enough to see how Deathloop could have been a better game, but I’d rather be left with a series of nitpicks acquired in the pursuit of something original than another perfectly fine Triple-A game that ultimately justifies its existence through sales figures alone.

The post Deathloop Proves Incredibly Flawed Games Can Still Be Masterpieces appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[artificialqueens]

Withstanding The Test Of Time Ch2 - Shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - thank you so much to everyone who voted for me or nominated me in aqficawards!! i’m stupidly flattered and i love you all, this long one goes out to you and also to my lovely “clique” <3

Two excruciating weeks was the exact length of time Sharon was forced to stay in the Belli residence. Though she felt bad for it, she’d felt as though she was counting every hour until she was allowed to leave. Willam and Courtney were fun for nights out, and Farrah was cute in the occasional visit, but two weeks of domestic life in a suburban home had cemented a few new facts in Sharon’s mind.

One, Willam and Courtney were a disgusting couple. Since Courtney had worked from home for a while, she would see Willam out of the door each morning, baby Farrah balanced on her hip, both of them waving as he left. When he came home, she greeted him at the door with a lingering kiss and a smile, excitedly telling him about her day and listening to him talk about his. Their eyes seemed to sparkle whenever they looked at one another, and even when they argued – a domestic argument about washing up duties, no less – it still ended with kisses and hugs. All of this was within view of Sharon, stranded pathetically on the couch, unable to escape the suffocating atmosphere of love and family life.

Second, if she thought daytime TV was bad, children’s TV was infinitely worse. In fact, she needed to backtrack. Daytime TV could be quite enjoyable, and Sharon was partial to some Nancy Grace or Jeremy Kyle if the occasion arose. But children’s TV was quite honestly the most over-produced, artificial garbage her eyes had ever looked upon. If one more skinny, pig-tail wearing brunette grinned whilst inches away from the screen, or terrifying alien-like creatures pretended they couldn’t find their friends, she was going to explode. How could there be so many identical programmes on TV? Little Farrah giggled and clapped at all of them, thoroughly enjoying herself, and even whilst working Courtney would chuckle a little here and there.

Third, and possibly the most significant thing Sharon had learned, was that she was positive now that the soulmate life wasn’t for her.

Willam and Courtney were just so perfect. They were a hive mind – what one wanted, the other wanted too – and had this amazing team dynamic where things just seemed to get done equally, and fast. They were affectionate and beyond in control of their lives and twenty four years old living the American dream of sorts.

Sharon knew she wasn’t ready for anything like that. Nor would she ever be.

It was a relief to be back at work – and that was something Sharon thought she’d never feel. Despite hating her co-workers, being able to stand up on her own and be in an environment of entirely adults was completely refreshing. She probably shouldn’t have been in heels so soon after recovering, but it was really all or nothing. Surviving in the office with the Real Housewives of Office 7B was a fucking challenge, and the last thing Sharon needed was to deal with their obnoxiousness and be shorter than them. At the very least, she needed to match their stiletto-boosted height.

“Hey, Sharon Needles!” A lazy voice called. “You look so pretty today! I heard grey is a really in colour for fall this season. Seems like your corpse-spinster complexion will finally be cool.”

Kimora seemed impressed with her own read, subtly high-fiving Pearl as the other girls around them started to laugh. Honestly, it was like Sharon had suddenly regressed back into fucking high school, only these girls were richer, prettier, and smarter.

“Oh, fuck you.” Sharon dismissed her, ducking her head down on her way to her desk as the girls jeered at her lack of a response. She really didn’t have the energy to fight back against their cattiness, and the days usually went by quicker when she managed to grin and bear it.

Thankfully, no one pursued her, and Sharon made it to her desk in one piece. The surface was definitely tidier than she’d left it – the scattered pens had been replaced into their stands, the assorted paperwork was neatly ordered in a pile, and the endless amount of post-it notes that were stuck all around her monitor had been neatly stuck in a row along the bottom of the computer screen. By the looks of things, Sasha had taken the liberty of tidying her things whilst she’d been away.

That wasn’t the only thing Sasha had done. Carefully placed in the middle of the desk was a small card, most likely handmade, with Sasha’s swirly handwriting on the front. Sharon smiled briefly as she sat down, opening the card to read the sweet ‘get well soon’ message that had been written inside, along with a few scribbled hearts and a short message from Shea too. She made a mental note to thank her as she switched on the monitor, shuffling her chair closer and relaxing a little. At least Sasha wouldn’t make the day hell for her.

Sharon’s desk was right next to Sasha’s, which was a total polar opposite to how Sharon’s usually appeared. Her desktop was messy, disorderly, and stained with coffee. Her computer screen still had the generic company background, overshadowed by the plethora of tabs and documents that she had open, which she’d rapidly switch between during the rare times she was actually at her desk. The only personal items she had was a small bottle of sun lotion in her drawer and a former Halloween decoration that was supposed to dance once activated, but hadn’t worked in years.

Sasha on the other hand was the epitome of organisation. Everything had its place and was just so, prettily organised in colours and everything stacked neatly where it needed to be. She’d personalized her computer screen to show a photograph of her and Shea on a vacation to LA the previous year, and her desk may as well have been a second home. Sharon envied Sasha’s ability to make anywhere feel homely, but she imagined it was a skill the woman had been born with.

It wasn’t long after Sharon had switched on her monitor that Sasha arrived, professionally dressed with her own quirky flare and warm smile to match. She greeted Sharon with a lingering hug and one of her famous smiles, before sitting at her own desk to begin her latest article.

“I’m so glad you’re back, Sharon, it’s been so boring without you. The office feels wrong without you being here.”

Sharon suspected Sasha was just being kind – as was in the woman’s nature – but nevertheless she appreciated the compliment. With a wry smile, she ran a hand through her hair and nodded.

“I bet the bitches have missed me so much. Having to make their own coffee? Oh, the horror!”

Sasha laughed. “To think I had to deal with them alone, I can never come up with mean comebacks the way you do. I’m glad you’re doing better now, though. I nearly had a heart attack when I heard you’d been hit.”

Sharon hummed. “It was awful. Not so much the accident, but spending two weeks with Willam, Courtney, and Nugget. I miss my crappy apartment and being alone. I’m pretty sure being surrounded by happy families is only making me more and more certain that it’s not the life for me. I swear Willam and Courtney wake up happy. I’m a monster morning and night.”

“Oh, Sharon,” Sasha chastised jokingly. “I’m a monster too, you and me both. Monsters can be happy too, you know. It takes time and hard work but it can happen. And if you’re worried about…” She trailed off, her eyes drifting down to Sharon’s arm, still wrapped in a bandage but thankfully out of the sling. “…you know… you still have time. Things can change.”

Time. Sasha was well-meaning, but she couldn’t have picked a worse word to say. Fucking time. As if it wasn’t bad enough to hate timers, now the very word made Sharon dizzy and nauseous. Even when she’d had to change bandages or shower, she’d kept the accusing timer firmly covered, not even peeking at it once. She couldn’t bring herself to look at it.

“I-I… I don’t –”

Before Sharon could elaborate any further, a voice from across the room started yelling.

“Sharon! Hey! Sharon! Decaf, no sugar or milk! And be quick about it!” Sharon stood up to see Violet, a couple of rows of desks away, her sculpted eyebrows raised expectantly. Sasha rolled her eyes in sympathy.

Although she’d been half tempted to deliver Violet a fully caffeinated, sugary mug of coffee, Sharon had less of a death wish than her wilful running in front of cars may have suggested. For the sake of a quiet life, she kept her grumbling to a minimum as she played barista, watching out for stray heeled feet in case someone tried to trip her once again. Violet, as usual, accepted without any thanks and simply flicked her wrist to dismiss her. Normally, Sharon would have argued, but she didn’t have the energy.

“Ugh.” Sharon groaned, sinking back into her seat and continuing her pointless article about celebrity relationships – because of course, everywhere she went, the topic of love had to haunt her. “Fucking Violet. She treats me like I’m some eighteen-year-old intern with zero qualifications other than coffee-making. I fucking can’t with her.”

“She’s so rude, I have to agree. It doesn’t take any more energy to be kind than it does to be mean.” Sasha added thoughtfully. “What were you saying before she interrupted?”

Sharon blanched. “I – uh – not here. I don’t wanna… not right now. M-Maybe we can talk later?”

“How about lunch? We can talk then.”

-

For the most part, the morning had passed smoothly. Nobody else made Sharon chase drinks and documents – except for Gia, who asked for a drink and decided after one sip she didn’t want it after all – and she actually managed to get a little bit of work done. Soon enough, Top Ten Celebrity Soulmates That’ll Melt Your Heart would be published to the company website. Sharon was embarrassed to even have her name on the tagline; it was a poorly devised Buzzfeed parody-wank. Even the language used in the article was painful, the words having a gloriously artificial, joyful tone to them that was utterly foreign to Sharon’s dialect. Still, she reasoned, it had to be something.

Even so, her eyes had been constantly drawn to the small digital clock at the bottom right of her computer screen. The ticking of the wall clock in the centre of the room had seemed louder somehow, slicing through time with each tick. Sharon was suddenly hyper-aware of time passing, and everything seemed to be happening too quickly.

Sasha had left a few minutes earlier to collect her lunch from the communal fridge, and the office was empty with the exception of Sharon at her desk. She’d been mindlessly refreshing her emails, zoning out at the depressingly barren inbox, hoping someone wanted her to write something. Anything.

“Hey, girl. You wanna join us for lunch?” Sasha called, pulling Sharon out of her thoughts. She turned, spotting Sasha stood nearby with Mrs Taylor, one of the assistant managers.

After a moment of thought, Sharon shook her head. “I’m okay. I think I’ll just eat at my desk.”

Sharon ate at her desk nearly every day. It was lonely, and a little awkward, but she’d rather deal with the silence than the grating vocals of Gia, Kimora, Violet and anyone else who found amusement in Sharon’s discomfort.

Sasha seemed to murmur something to Mrs Taylor, and with an encouraging nod, abandoned the assistant manager to sit next to Sharon at her desk. She offered another of her warm smiles as she approached and fixed Sharon with her usual concerned gaze.

“Are you okay to talk now? If I’m pushing you then please let me know because that’s not my intention at all, I just want to find out if you’re okay. You seem quiet today.”

Avoiding Sasha’s gaze was impossible. The woman was so genuinely, sincerely caring that trying to hide anything from her just felt wrong. Sasha wanted to help. She was the only person Sharon saw on the regular who had time for her and her life.

Sharon pursed her lips as she tried to think of where to begin. “I… can you keep a secret?”

Sasha nodded. “Of course.”

“It’s…” She trailed off. “I’m sorry. I don’t talk about this, but I guess… You’re really the only person who takes the time to understand my stance on things… you don’t judge me, you listen. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

Sasha placed a hand reassuringly on Sharon’s shoulder. “Don’t apologise, I’ll always be here to listen if you need me. I’m guessing this is about timers?”

Unsuccessfully, Sharon tried to control her involuntary wince. It was blatantly obvious that she’d reacted to the word, but thankfully Sasha was kind enough to ignore it and pretend she hadn’t noticed. Sharon knew there was no way she hadn’t – Sasha was easily one of the most perceptive and intelligent people she’d met, perhaps ever – but she appreciated her efforts in covering for her.

“Yeah. Yeah. Did yours… ever change?” Sharon bit her lip. “Other than just counting down?”

“Never.” Sasha shook her head. “It just went steadily down to zero, and then a month later I married Shea. Wh-”

Before Sasha could finish her sentence, Sharon swore loudly, cutting her off. Within seconds her palms had grown sweaty, her skin flushed red as her heart beat rapidly.

A month.

How could she have forgotten? It was one of the things Sharon despised the most, one of the laws she protested the most fiercely. So long as you were over eighteen, you had to marry your soulmate within a month of your timer reaching zero! The law had never been changed, regardless of how much Sharon and Bianca had poured their time into arguing against. How, how, how it had slipped her mind?

“Shit. Shit shit shit fuck fuck. Sasha! A month. A fucking month. Holy shit.”

She was trembling, hardly able to breathe. Sasha noticed her beginning to panic, her chest rising and falling too quickly, her breaths becoming short and shallow. She was becoming more and more frantic by the second.

“Here,” Sasha said quickly, grabbing Sharon by the hand and supporting her practically limp body as she dragged her towards the toilets. Once they were inside, Sasha furtively checking that the stalls were empty, she forced Sharon to drink from the small fountain in the corner and gently splashed her face with a little bit of water from the tap.

“Breathe, breathe,” She murmured calmly, rubbing soothing circles on Sharon’s back. “You’re okay, don’t panic. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Sharon wasn’t sure when she’d started crying. She hadn’t even noticed, what with the water being splashed on her face, but the unmistakably hot, salty tears had started to flow beyond her control. She hiccupped slightly and rubbed her eyes, doubly certain that for once, Sasha was actually incorrect.

“No it’s not.” She sniffed. “I completely forgot. A month, I-I don’t even have that. Sasha, what –”

Sasha interjected as politely as she could. “Sharon, Sharon, girl. Take a second to breathe and think, you can do this. I want to help you.”

Sharon remembered one of her old high school teachers giving a famous lecture to the school. They happened frequently, they were boring, but one of them had stuck with her ever since it had happened. The woman had stood in front of everyone, leaning closely against the podium before her, and told them all about courage. She probably had rambled on for longer than Sharon cared to listen to, but at the very least she’d remembered the key message. All you need is five seconds of courage to get you into a situation. Then you have to push through it because you’ve made it happen.

“My timer ran out two weeks ago.”

You have to push through it.

Sasha listened intently, shock evident in her wide eyes, as Sharon talked. It was the first time Sharon had actually recounted the full story out loud, rather than mulling it over in her head like some sadistic form of self torture.  It felt more than ever like the number two was haunting her. Two years had decreased to two minutes. She had a marriage approaching in two weeks. Soulmates were everywhere, the fundamental idea of two hearts joining to make one. When was one decided to be not enough?

It was happening. In a mere two weeks, Sharon would have to get married. She couldn’t refuse, she couldn’t not turn up, she couldn’t fight against the law she’d protested so often. No amount of signs or slogan t-shirts could get her out of this one. Whether she liked it or not – in this case, not – in two weeks time she would be a married woman.

At the end of it all, Sasha pulled Sharon into a tight hug and squeezed her, one hand rubbing her back as she let her friend bury her face into her blazer. Sharon had long stopped crying but that didn’t mean that she was calm by any means – her breaths were still shorter and quicker than ever before. Sasha herself bore no ill-will towards soulmates at all, but she took care to understand everyone’s view and knew just how deeply Sharon hated them. She knew her co-worker had been secretly hoping that those two years would never come, and now she had to get married in a fortnight. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how she was feeling.

“Do…” Sasha approached the subject cautiously. “Do you know who it is?”

Sharon shook her head. “I haven’t looked. I-I can’t. There still t-tape over it.”

“Right.” Sasha fell silent. “Can I?”

“A-As long as I don’t see it, I guess… But you can’t tell anybody. This – this has to stay quiet.”

It only took a moment for Sharon to close her eyes, roll back her sleeve and allow Sasha to peel back the tape and have a look. Once she had the name memorised, she covered the timer up again and pulled Sharon into yet another hug. They lingered for a little while longer that time, Sasha waiting until Sharon’s breathing had started to return to normal before releasing her.

“You wanna head back to the office? Lunch break is nearly over, you haven’t even eaten.”

Sharon shrugged. “I’m not hungry anyway. Let’s just go back.”

People were beginning to filter back into the office in dribs and drabs when the pair emerged from the bathroom. Sasha had done her best to help clean Sharon up, wiping away smudged makeup and tidying up her appearance, but it was still glaringly obvious from her red eyes that she had been crying. Regardless, Sharon sat down at her desk and waited for someone to give her an order, knowing she wouldn’t have time to get started on any work before the demands came flooding in. Meanwhile, Sasha was scrolling through a variety of social media pages and Google results, muttering under her breath as she worked.

“Sharon? Will you come here please?”

Just as she’d predicted. Although the voice sounded sweet, the owner of it was anything but. Behind her artificial smile lay a venomous tongue and her immaculately painted eyes masked a cold, unfeeling stare. Sharon rose from her seat and made her way over to the Latina beauty, mentally preparing herself for the faux niceness.

“What do you want, Val?” Sharon deadpanned, too drained to bother injecting a note of happiness into her voice.

“It’s Valentina.” She corrected, baring her teeth in her trademark perfect smile. “I need you to take these papers for me and deliver them to the managers on the top floor. Quick quick.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Which managers?”

Valentina’s eye twitched. “Mrs Moore and Mrs Hides.”

Sharon probably could’ve prolonged the strange, forced conversation between her and Valentina – for example, asking why she referred to them as Mrs Moore and Mrs Hides when everyone knew them as Peppermint and Charlie – but the few short minutes of it were painful enough. Valentina directed Sharon towards a tall stack of papers to the left of her desk and then tapped away on her keyboard with her long nails, leaving Sharon to lift the gigantic stack and attempt to balance it against her chest.

After staggering towards the elevator at the far end of the office, Sharon readjusted her stance so she could try and press the buttons on the wall, her chin steadying the mountain of files clutched precariously in her other arm. Once she’d finally reached outwards, she heard a snigger and a voice.

“The elevator is broken, by the way.”

Sharon didn’t even bother looking at Violet before making her way over to the stairs, cursing under her breath. She was in heels, for Christ’s sake, and trying to carry a ten-ton stack of filed paperwork on a recently-healed broken arm. Was there no sympathy? Then again, nearly everyone in the office was absolutely ruthless. Considering all they did was produce articles by typing at computers all day, Sharon had no idea where all the anger came from. Nevertheless, what she did know was that it was all directed at the fucking intern.

At the end of the long journey up the flights and flights of stairs that the office possessed, a red-faced, exhausted Sharon reached the top floor, managed to palm off the stack of papers to Peppermint’s assistant, and made her way down all of the stairs and into her seat before anyone else could heckle her to do something for them. She’d been given permission to leave work early due to her so-called precarious state, and if she could get through her last hour with minimal movement, her weakened legs would thank her.

“Hey… Sharon?” Sasha greeted her as she sat back down. “I hope you don’t mind that I did this, I looked up the name that’s on your timer.”

Sharon stiffened. “And?”

“Do… do you wanna know anything about her? I won’t mention any names if you don’t want me to.”

Sasha chewed her lip, looking so uncertain that Sharon relented. They were friends, after all, and Sasha only wanted to be kind.

“Okay, why not.”

“Hm…” Sasha pondered as she stared at her screen, choosing select pieces of information. “I think she works as some sort of counsellor, by the looks of things. She’s tall. Blonde, very very pretty…”

She trailed off, gently touching Sharon’s arm. “The two of you might get along really well. You never know until you try, Sharon.”

Sharon sighed. “What does it matter? I have to marry her in two weeks whether I like her or not.”

At that, Sasha fell silent. Part of Sharon wanted to be satisfied that her pessimistic argument had won, but she often relied on Sasha to help lift her mood when she felt down. Silence meant that there wasn’t a way Sasha could use her big brain to twist the words into something a little more positive.

-

She worked her final hour in a glum silence, fetching and carrying a little, but mostly chipping away at another small and pointless article. At least it was work, she reasoned. It was mind-numbingly boring, and more than once her mind wandered down to the accusing piece of glass implanted into her arm.

Tall. Blonde. Pretty. Admittedly, she did sound like a catch. If Sharon was allowed to date freely and love whoever she wanted, rather than be forced into marrying the name on her timer, she’d probably be head over heels for this mystery woman. But on principle, she found herself disliking the image in her head. It didn’t matter how striking her looks may be, it was wrong that they had so little time to know one another before the nuptial agreement took away their freedom.

As it struck one, Sharon gathered her things and hastily made her way out. Willam’s car was in the car park – which was confusing, since he hadn’t said anything about picking her up. He stuck his head out of the window as she approached, waving wildly and only ducking inside once Sharon had climbed into the passenger seat.

“Good afternoon my wonderful, wonderful best friend.” Willam said sweetly. “Thought I’d be a good Samaritan and drop you home, save you the effort.”

Sharon was instantly suspicious. “Alright, cut the sh-” She looked behind her, spotting baby Farrah in the baby-seat and hurriedly backtracking. “Nevermind. Why are you being fake nice, what do you want from me? What have you done?”

“Sharon!” Willam sounded affronted. “Don’t accuse me of wanting something from you! I would never do something like that.”

“Spill.”

“…Courtney is having a party tonight with some friends from her work and I need someone to be there that I can hang out with without wanting to die. Please show up or else I’ll die.”

Sharon started to laugh. Willam always cracked so easily, the pair knew each other too well to keep up any charade for longer than a minute. Even though he was laughing too, there was a hint of begging in his eyes as he started the car and begin driving towards Sharon’s apartment.

“Please? I won’t make you look after Nugget, I won’t bully you, you have to do this for me. Come on, common ground. I may have changed but I hate those women as much as you do.” He pleaded.

Sharon had to give him that one. Courtney worked as a marriage therapist, a unique and fairly well-paying job in their society. They dealt with ‘problem’ soulmate cases – anything from felons and victims to anti-timer people who found themselves trapped in a wedding band. In rare cases they allowed divorces to happen, for example if abuse or any other factors were causing harm, but most of the time the therapists worked through couple’s issues so they could be the perfect little soulmates they were intended to be.

In fairness, Courtney was one of the nicer ones. She wasn’t obnoxious about her own marriage, or her job, but some of the people she worked with were downright revolting. Even though Willam had changed his tone on timers since his had ran out, he still bore an old hatred for those therapists.

Sharon nodded. “Fine, deal. But –” She held up her index finger, ready to make her terms. “Next time the two of us go out and get fully smashed, you’re paying. Uber and all. And you’re not allowed to cop out at 11pm claiming that you’re needed at home. Deal?”

Willam grunted. “Deal. I hate you.”

“How do I need to dress for your fu – for your party then?”

Willam shrugged. “Just look smart, that’s all you need to do. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“Shi – wow, you really are desperate for my company. It’s nice to be wanted. I’ll be ready by then.” Sharon snorted, a touch of sympathy entering her words.

“Great.” Willam finalized. “Now get out of my car.”

-

Seven o’clock rolled around depressingly slow. Sharon supposed that was the result of being bored and alone in a shitty flat, so she’d spent the last few hours taking her sweet time getting ready. It wasn’t like she was going to put much effort in anyway; Courtney would always upstage her and besides, the women she worked with were bound to make sly comments anyway. Willam owed her one.

Naturally, he turned up ten minutes late with a well-fitted suit and his hair neatly combed back, making Sharon’s short dress and black purse look ridiculously cheap – which they were. Before he pushed open the front door, he warned her of Courtney’s tipsy state, wincing as his wife pulled Sharon into a tight hug and thrust her into the room. Wine glasses were scattered around the place and predominantly women seemed to fill every space. Despite Willam’s attempts to tug Sharon into the kitchen away from the hubbub, Courtney insisted on forcing her to meet everyone before letting her go.

“-who else have I missed, hm…” Courtney stared around the room, trying to find a face she hadn’t forced Sharon to speak to yet.

“Oh! I know!”

And then Sharon saw her.

Tall. Blonde. Pretty. Worked in counselling.

Alaska.

All of the pieces suddenly came together.

“What a horrible first impression for a s-”

“Shh!” Willam hissed, cutting the girl off. “Whatever you do, don’t say the s word around Sharon. Look, she’s alive. Don’t stress, Alaska.”

It was so obvious now.

“Sorry, sorry,” Alaska murmured profusely. “I’m trying to stop getting upset. That’s such a bad first impression and they always say first impressions matter and I always wanted my s-”

How hadn’t she seen the signs?

“No, no, listen to me. I’m saying this because I care about you, Alaska, but I also care about Sharon. I hate having to burst your bubble because I know how you feel about all this, but Sharon does not feel the same way. Look, I agree with you, I personally think it’s dumb, but she’s extremely set in her ways. If you even wanna be her friend, you gotta tone it down.”

Of course.

Her vision tunnelled, her gazed fixed on the eyes of the woman who couldn’t help but stare back, transfixed. Her mind ran at a mile a minute.

Alaska knew. Courtney knew. Willam knew and had purposely kept it from her. In two weeks time, she was the one Sharon would have to marry.

“Excuse me.” Sharon muttered tersely, and dashed out of the room.