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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

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Long Way From Home: Chapter 8

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

I’m back! Including this one, I’ve now got another five chapters written so we’ll be doing weekly updates again at least for the month of February. For those that haven’t been subjected to my chatting about it in discord or DMs, I write this particular fic in chunks that could almost be called arcs, before chopping it up into chapters, hence the sudden backlog. This section was only supposed to fill a small moment, not be an entire arc, but the boys disagreed with me on that so here we are.

Therefore, we have more playing around with the differences between the universes - particularly fashion, the TOS ideas of which are loosely based on the 1960s - a couple of familiar namedrops, and there’s a warning for a panic attack in this chapter, so watch out for that if it might give you trouble! I also know basically zero about Auckland, New Zealand, or correct communications between planes and airports, so sorry if there’s any inconsistencies here. Let’s just call it future advancements and an alternative universe!

<<<Chapter 7

The coastline of New Zealand looked more or less the same as Scott was used to when they finally arrived. The analogue dial of Other-Scott’s watch continued to taunt him, but if he had to guess, the journey had taken somewhere between one and two hours, and had largely passed in silence. Whether that was because Other-Gordon needed to concentrate on piloting, or simply because he was still holding up his promise of no more questions, Scott wasn’t sure, but he appreciated it regardless.

Being a passenger instead of the pilot was always an odd situation, and more than once he’d caught himself trying to shift imaginary controls in response to the clouds and air streams they passed through. If Other-Gordon had noticed, he hadn’t commented.

“Tango Alpha Ladybird to Auckland Air Traffic Control, requesting permission to land, over.” Beneath them, the city sprawled almost coast to coast, and Scott peered down, looking for familiar landmarks. Some of them were there, some of them were not. As low as they were flying – heading for the airport, no doubt – the Sky Tower should have been easily visible, but its distinctive shape was absent.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. Sky Tower was a telecommunications tower, and he’d already discovered that this universe didn’t use the same type of technology that he was used to, so its lack of presence made sense. But it had always been there, built sometime before the millennium and a major aspect of Auckland’s skyline. He’d flown past it many times, and even used it as an unofficial navigation point.

For it to be not there, either destroyed or never existed in the first place, reminded him that no matter how familiar some things might be, he really wasn’t home.

I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, was a line famously quoted from an old movie. Scott had a bit of a soft spot for the Wizard of Oz – old fantasy films in general – but he’d never imagined he’d ever be playing the part of Dorothy.

At least Dorothy still had Toto, he mused sadly. If only he’d taken Mini-MAX with him on that mission, then maybe he wouldn’t be entirely alone… if Mini-MAX would even have been able to operate without a network to link into. Most likely, he’d have had nothing but the inactive husk of the small bot. Scott wasn’t sure if that would have been better or worse.

“Auckland Air Traffic Control to Tango Alpha Ladybird, clearance granted for runway four-bravo, over,” the radio crackled, yanking him back to the present.

“Tango Alpha Ladybird to Auckland Air Traffic Control, copy that, over,” Other-Gordon acknowledged. Scott watched him adjust their angle of approach accordingly and kept his mouth shut as the landing gear engaged and they gently touched down onto the tarmac scant minutes later. Other-Gordon visibly relaxed as soon as they were safely down, taxiing his way carefully over to a hangar emblazoned with a large T.A. As they entered, Scott could see several planes inside of various sizes and designs.

The one thing they had in common was the T.A. on their tails, identical to the letters on the hangar, and Scott found himself wondering what it stood for. Other-Gordon had used the same two letters as a callsign, and he eyed the nearest plane – a much larger one than the Ladybird – as Gordon rolled them to a gentle stop.

“What does T.A. stand for?” he asked, suspecting that Other-Scott would know that and having no wish to get caught out and face awkward conversations. This was the sort of information he’d tried to get out of his doppelgänger, but either he’d thought he would already know, or it was so basic he forgot about it.

The incredulous look he got from Other-Gordon as the man paused his post-flight checks suggested it was the former.

“Tracy Aerospace,” he said. “Dad’s company. Doesn’t it exist in your universe? I thought you said you were a billionaire!”

“I am,” Scott grumbled, “and it does, but it’s Tracy Industries.”

“Right,” Other-Gordon said, going back to the post-flight checks. “Rule number one: no talking.”

“Wha-”

“You look like Scott but you don’t sound like my brother and that’s something folks’ll notice, especially around here. The fellas on the ground know Scott well, so you’ve lost your voice. That’s the story.”

That made sense, but how was Scott supposed to tell Other-Gordon what he was looking for if he wasn’t allowed to talk? He asked as such as the younger man finished up the last of the checks and undid his harness.

The aquanaut just shrugged. “What are you after? Underpants… what else?”

Scott chose to ignore the not so subtle dig; it was getting old, but no doubt Other-Gordon wouldn’t let it go until he’d got changed, and likely not even then.

“Casual shirts, jeans and sneakers.” He repeated the list he’d given Other-Scott earlier and watched Other-Gordon’s face at the word ‘jeans’. He didn’t look particularly pleased, but Scott wasn’t going to back down on those. “Should probably pick up a hoodie or two as well. Pyjamas and shoes, too.”

“There is no way Scott said yes to a hoodie,” Other-Gordon frowned. “Hoodie and jeans? Those are workshop clothes; do you fellas really wear those?” Scott bristled, and he raised his hands. “Look, I am all for getting items that’ll make Scott go crazy, but I don’t want to be murdered in my sleep because the media thinks he’s gone cuckoo, so give me a minute to come up with a reason that won’t wreck his public image for the next decade.”

Scott frowned, but before he could say anything else, Other-Gordon grinned and pushed at his wrist watch. There was a dial tone for several moments before the string of numbers was replaced by Other-Scott’s face. The other man looked concerned and a little suspicious. Scott supposed he hadn’t been expecting the call, and an unexpected call from a younger brother was definitely cause for concern – especially when it was a Gordon.

“Hey there, Scott!” Other-Gordon chirped in a tone that immediately had Scott on edge, even though it wasn’t aimed at him. The faux-innocent, sing-song voice meant trouble, and he felt slightly guilty for whatever chaos was about to fall Other-Scott’s way.

Other-Scott dropped all pretence of concern and frowned at him in full-blown suspicion.

“You’ve only just arrived,” he said slowly. “You can’t have got in trouble already.”

“You underestimate me, brother dear,” Other-Gordon scoffed, before pulling a sickly-sweet grin onto his face. Other-Scott’s expression went from suspicious to mildly horrified, and Scott couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Gordon,” he warned, loud enough for the watch to pick him up. While he was all up for pranks, he couldn’t quite bring himself to let his counterpart be on the receiving end of one he was involved in. It felt uncomfortably like pranking himself.

Other-Gordon huffed. “You’re no fun,” he sulked, before turning back to the watch. Other-Scott, Scott was pleased to see, had lost the look of horror and was back in the realms of confusion. “Say, Scott, how do you feel about being a trend-setter?”

And the look of horror was straight back.

“What?” Other-Scott demanded. “Setting what trend? I’m not a fashion icon, Gordon! Set your own trends.”

Other-Gordon hummed thoughtfully. “That’s a fine plan, Scott, except anything I buy will be too small for him to wear, which somewhat defeats the objective.”

Other-Scott made a noise of frustration. “I told you, Gordon. Anything that ends up in the media is your fault.”

“Did you say that knowing your clone here wants hoodies?” Other-Gordon asked, eyebrow raised. Other-Scott choked. “Because he does and I know better than to try and talk him out of it.”

“Hoodies?” Other-Scott looked bordering on mortified. “Dad would kill me.” Something that could be guilt coiled in Scott’s gut; no matter what his feelings were about Not-Dad’s existence, the idea of Other-Scott getting in trouble with him on his behalf didn’t settle well. Other-Scott shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, Gordon, but what’s your plan?”

“I figured we could pass it off as experimentation,” Other-Gordon shrugged. “But you’re not well known for that so it would cause a stir.”

“You’re right about that,” Other-Scott mused, and Scott shook his head.

“I guess I don’t need one,” he offered reluctantly – he wanted one, but there was mildly inconveniencing someone and there was ruining someone’s reputation.

“No.” Other-Scott shook his head firmly. “We’ll make this work.”

“Well, it’s your funeral,” Other-Gordon muttered, before a grin slowly spread across his face. “You know, fellas, I think I’ve got it!”

“Do I want to know?” Other-Scott asked dubiously.

“It’s simple,” Other-Gordon continued as though his older brother hadn’t spoken. “We all know you wouldn’t willingly wear one, so we make it unwilling. Scott, you lost a bet.”

Other-Scott ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose that would work,” he conceded reluctantly. Scott could see the logic – short term embarrassment at the hands of a younger sibling would barely interest the media, but still explained why he was still in possession of a so-called workman’s outfit. “But I’m insisting on custom made. You are not coming back with some cheap off the shelf monstrosity.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Other-Gordon chirped in a tone that said he had been considering doing exactly that. “We should start moving now, though. Jones is coming over and I think he wants to know why we haven’t left the cockpit yet.”

“I can’t say I’m in a hurry to have you wrecking my reputation but you probably shouldn’t make Jones suspicious,” Other-Scott sighed. “Hey, wait – what is this bet I’ve supposedly lost, Gordon?”

“If you don’t know, Dad can’t yell at you for it later,” Other-Gordon grinned back at him.

“Gordon.”

“What, don’t you trust me?” the ginger asked, pulling a face of fake hurt. Other-Scott scowled at him.

“With my life, yes. Not with my dignity.” Scott could relate to that.

“We’ll see you later, Scott.” Other-Gordon didn’t bother responding to the veiled accusation before signing off, returning the watch to actually looking like a watch just as a young man crossed the distance between the neighbouring plane and the Ladybird. “Here we go, remember you’ve lost your voice and let me do all the talking.”

Scott had a sinking feeling that was going to be easier said than done, but obediently followed the other man out of the cockpit just in time for the man on the ground to stride over to them.

“Gordon Tracy, is that you piloting a plane?” said man called, shaking his head in amazement. “Why, I couldn’t believe my ears when they told me it was you of all people coming in to land that red beauty of yours!”

“Gee, laugh it up why don’t you, Jones,” Other-Gordon commented dryly. “I didn’t fly all the way here with the worst backseat pilot in the world to get flack from you, too, fella.”

The man – Jones – squinted at Scott and for a heart-stopping moment he thought the man had realised he wasn’t this universe’s Scott, before he burst out laughing. “Scott Tracy letting someone else pilot? Now I’ve really seen it all. Say, how you been, old chap?” He stuck out his hand and feeling rather like a deer in headlights, Scott took it for a firm shake.

“Ah, Scott’s not so good,” Other-Gordon intervened before the silence stretched long enough to be awkward. “He’s only gone and lost his voice, but there’s shopping to be done so yours truly got the short straw.” The ginger gave a theatrical wince. “Turns out not having a voice doesn’t stop a fella from backseat piloting like crazy. He insisted on checking over all my post-flight checks! I ask you; you’d think he didn’t trust me with a plane.”

Scott shot him a look. While no doubt if Other-Scott had really lost his voice that all sounded perfectly feasible, he thought the ginger was laying it on a little thick. Other-Gordon caught the look and rolled his eyes.

“Well Mr Just Because I Can’t Talk Doesn’t Mean I Won’t Be A Pain here seems like he wants to get this over and done with,” he told Jones. Not strictly inaccurate, Scott supposed, although that hadn’t been what he’d meant. Other-Gordon lowered his voice. “Truth be told, he doesn’t want to be here; lost a bet and doesn’t like the forfeit.”

Scott put a warning hand on his shoulder and Other-Gordon laughed. Jones joined in politely, almost as though he wasn’t certain what the joke was, or if he should be responding to it.

“I’d say that means ‘hurry it up, oh favourite brother of mine’,” Other-Gordon translated. “Lock her down for me, would you? There’s a good man.”

“Yessir,” Jones agreed. “Your usual car’s been prepared for you. Mr Tracy said you didn’t want a chauffeur today?” A chauffeur? No, Scott absolutely didn’t want one of those – it was bad enough being piloted by a brother, or brother from another universe, as it happened.

“Not today, Jones,” Other-Gordon confirmed. “I wouldn’t inflict Scott in this mood on anyone,” he winked, and the man gave another awkward chuckle. “I’ll handle it all today.” Scott jammed his hands in his pockets impatiently. “See you around, Jones.”

“Likewise, Gordon, Scott.” The man nodded at both of them and Other-Gordon led the way through the hangar unerringly to where a classic vintage-looking convertible was waiting for them. With the roof down, he could see it was a right-hand drive – of course, New Zealand drove on the left; at least that was the same – so without prompting he let himself in to the front left seat and tried not to be too obvious about staring.

Plane controls might have been the same, but cars apparently weren’t. If push came to shove, he could probably figure it out – the car was at least an automatic, not stick-shift – but he was quite content to let Other-Gordon take the wheel. Hopefully he wasn’t quite as chaotic as his Gordon behind the wheel.

He wasn’t. At least, not by Scott’s standards. He was, however, still the fastest car on the road, overtaking other cars with manoeuvres just shy of being classified as swerves, with a delighted grin on his face. That, at least, was typically Gordon, and the ache that blossomed in his chest whenever any of the Other-Tracy family did something that reminded him of their counterparts – his Tracy family – made itself known again. Scott fought the instinct to clutch at his chest, instead clinging to the door with a grip far too tight for the situation.

Behind amber-tinted shades, equally amber eyes glanced over at his death grip, but Other-Gordon said nothing. Scott wasn’t sure if that was a relief or not – the younger man knew enough to know that these speeds wouldn’t phase him in the slightest, which meant he was drawing his own conclusions. Scott had no idea what those conclusions might be, and any desire to ask was quashed by the knowledge that that would open the topic up for conversation.

He’d chosen Other-Gordon to avoid more of that sort of conversation.

“What are we getting first?” he asked, turning his head away from the streets to look at Other-Gordon. With the wind whistling past their ears, the natural inclination was to raise his voice but he consciously kept his voice at normal levels. Other-Gordon should still be able to hear him, if with a bit of difficulty.

The ginger sent him an assessing look before the grin was back, and that look was too much like Gordon’s devilish grin for Scott to not know what he was going to say, despite the man not being his Gordon.

“You can’t stay in the same underpants forever!”

Scott groaned, the hand not gripping the door catching his face – ow, he forgot about the shades. He left it there, acutely aware that with any Gordon around in a non-professional setting, the facepalm was never far away.

“Okay, new underpants. Then what?”

Other-Gordon laughed, looping them around another car as the bulk of the city approached, before settling into something that seemed like he might, vaguely, be taking the excursion seriously. Whether that was due to Other-Scott’s threats – which he did seem to be wary of – or because he was actually mindful of Scott’s own wishes, he had no idea. If he had to guess, probably the former. Scott wished his Gordon respected his threats against causing chaos.

Then again, he’d never had a doppelgänger, let alone one subsequently left in the hands of his prank-loving brother.

“Francois Lemaire has a new men’s range out,” he shrugged. “Might as well start there.”

“Lemaire?” Scott asked, his voice strangled. Other-Gordon gave him a sharp look.

“He’s Tin-Tin’s favourite designer,” the younger man said. “She suggested him.”

Lemaire? Designer? Admittedly, Scott didn’t know what the rich airhead did when he wasn’t throwing himself in mortal danger and complaining loudly when they had to rescue him from his own stupidity, but he found it hard to believe that between birthday parties in the Mariana Trench and throwing himself into the coma of a comet he was designing clothes.

“Problem?” Other-Gordon asked, and Scott realised he was scowling. Taking a deep breath, he forced his expression to smooth out again.

“He won’t be there, will he?” he asked. “If he’s anything like the Lemaire I know, there is a high chance I’ll be losing my temper.”

“What’s wrong with Lemaire?” Other-Gordon actually sounded confused, which was enough for Scott to cling to the hope that maybe, maybe, the man wasn’t such an idiot here.

“Birthday party in the Mariana Trench,” he groaned. “Flying into a comet. Hunting mermaids.” And that was just the tip of the iceberg. “He calls us International Babysitting Service now.”

The hiss Other-Gordon let out implied the other man found that all as ridiculous – and insulting – as Scott did. “I guess that fella’s not your favourite human,” he observed. “We’ve not had those sorts of problems with him.” That was a relief. “I doubt he’ll be here, though. Fella lives in France.”

That was another relief, although Scott wasn’t going to relax entirely until they were done with the man’s shop. It would be just his luck that this universe’s Lemaire would be dropping by for a visit when he was there, and that was not a meeting he wanted.

“Then we might as well see if his range contains anything I want to wear,” he shrugged, realising that he hadn’t actually agreed or disagreed with Other-Gordon’s suggestion. The younger man groaned as he pulled into a parking lot tucked behind a large building emblazoned with Lemaire.

“You’re not going to be too fussy, are you?” he asked. Scott detected a tone of dread behind what was clearly supposed to be a rhetorical question.

“Not if they have decent clothes,” he answered, and Other-Gordon made another disgruntled noise as he killed the ignition.

“Sure. Now, remember: you’re my brother, you’ve lost your voice, I’m doing all the talking.” Scott rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement. “Underpants, shirts, jeans, pyjamas, shoes and a custom hoodie.” Other-Gordon still didn’t seem too happy about some of those things, even with Other-Scott’s blessing, reluctant though it had been. “Am I forgetting anything?”

Scott shook his head and Other-Gordon jumped out of the car, casually circling around to open Scott’s door before he realised the lever needed to be pulled, not pushed. What happened to doors opening at the touch of a button? He was really starting to miss familiar technology.

Maybe he could persuade Other-Gordon to let him pilot back to the island.

First, though, he had to get through this shopping trip so he could stop having to borrow Other-Scott’s clothes. Stepping out of the car, he followed Other-Gordon into the shop.

It was exactly the sort of ordered chaos Scott expected from clothes shopping. Mannequins flanked the entrance, decked out in what was presumably the latest fashions but looked totally bizarre to Scott, while a woman decked out in equally outrageous clothes – not Gordon-outrageous, but so much fabric outrageous – bustled forwards to greet them. Behind her, equally awfully dressed men and women were guiding around customers who just screamed ‘I’m rich’.

Scott was immediately reminded exactly why he did as much clothes shopping as he could get away with online.

“Monsieur Tracy, Monsieur Tracy,” the woman greeted them. “My name is Madeleine; how may I be of assistance today?”

Automatically, Scott opened his mouth to answer, but Other-Gordon jumped in before he managed to make a sound. “Scott’s looking for a new wardrobe,” he said smoothly, drawing the woman’s attention to him and away from Scott, who inwardly scolded himself for forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to talk. “Could we see your shirt selection?”

“Of course, Monsieur,” Madeleine replied. “If you would follow me?” She posed it as a question but began to walk further into the shop without waiting for a reply. Scott and Other-Gordon stepped forwards at the same time, following the woman through a maze of clothes and other customers before arriving in a booth lined with lavish couches. “Please, take a seat.” Madeleine gestured to one of the couches and Scott took the invitation. Other-Gordon settled down beside him and immediately reached out for what appeared to be a physical, gloss-paper, brochure on the table. He flipped through it for a moment before passing it over.

Scott accepted it and saw that Other-Gordon had already opened it to the shirts for him.

“Did Monsieur have a particular style in mind?” Madeleine asked after a moment. Not knowing the jargon as well as perhaps Grandma would have liked, and unable to speak without inviting awkward questions anyway, Scott shrugged.

“You’ll have to forgive my brother,” Other-Gordon jumped in before she could take offence. “The fella’s lost his voice.”

“Oh,” she gasped softly. “My apologies, Monsieur Tracy.”

Scott shot her a reassuring smile even as Other-Gordon waved off her apology. “Don’t worry about it. I’m here to work as a translator.”

Leaving Other-Gordon to keep the woman occupied in conversation, Scott leant back and flicked through the brochure, eyeing the various outrageous shirts – apparently this universe’s Lemaire liked to design clothes with far too much excess fabric – before finally locating something that looked simple enough. He’d still have to roll the sleeves up and worry at the collar until it sat comfortably, but it definitely looked like something he could wear comfortably enough.

He prodded Other-Gordon in the ribs; sharp amber eyes snapped over to him, wide in surprise for a split second before narrowing.

“You found something?” the younger man asked, after a pause that felt just a little too long. Scott nodded, belatedly realising he had no idea if that sort of thing was acceptable sibling behaviour in this universe. Realising he couldn’t clarify anything while he was pretending to have lost his voice, he pushed the thought aside to deal with later, and prodded at the picture on the page.

Madeleine made a motion to look over, and Scott swivelled the brochure so that she could see the one he’d chosen.

“A wonderful choice, Monsieur Tracy,” she beamed, while Other-Gordon made a sound that could be amused. He didn’t say whatever it was he was thinking, though, instead joining in the conversation when the woman asked how many and pulled out another brochure of fabrics and patterns.

“I dare say a few wouldn’t go amiss,” Other-Gordon told her – although Scott suspected it was a prod at him as well. He zoned out the rest of the conversation as he stared at the ridiculous variety of colours and tried to find the sensible blues. He had no desire to adopt Gordon’s sense of fashion, or John’s for that matter.

He suspected John might quite like some of the horrors he was hurriedly passing by. He’d never understood his immediate brother’s taste in clothes.

Finally, a nice plain blue, not too far off his favourite shirt at home, caught his eye, and after inspecting it to make sure there weren’t any hidden patterns he tapped at the glossy paper to draw their attention.

“The fella likes blue,” Other-Gordon shrugged at Madeleine as she pulled out a notepad and pen from somewhere and started scribbling down. “But Scott, are you really only going to get the one design? That’s a lot of identical shirts.”

Regretting zoning out the conversation about exactly how many Other-Gordon had decided he would be getting, Scott instead raised an eyebrow at him, a look his younger brothers all knew meant don’t try me. From the grin Other-Gordon gave him, he understood exactly what it meant, but was also as unimpressed by the warning as Gordon ever was. With some reluctance, because yes, variety was nice and he suspected Other-Gordon was actually telling him that buying many identical shirts was not an Other-Scott-like thing to do, he returned to the sample images and tried to find some others that didn’t look like something John would wear – or worse, something not even Gordon or John would be caught dead in.

Fashion was ridiculous here.

He was certain his choices were being memorised by the too-sharp ginger next to him as he dug out the designs he was willing to wear and had them scribbled down by an eager to please Madeleine, no doubt being added to whatever mental databank Other-Gordon was compiling about him. Maybe it would be worth dragging the differences between him and Other-Scott out of the aquanaut at some point on the flight back, if only to try and get a better understanding of what he was – temporarily, he hoped – going to be dealing with.

None of his training – Air Force, International Rescue or business – had ever covered what to do when faced with a doppelgänger of himself that wasn’t the Hood in disguise, and while Not-Dad was proving to be a problem, he didn’t have any plans to alienate the family. They were his only way home; that, he knew for certain.

“Will that be all, Monsieur Tracy?” Madeleine asked when he finally decided there was nothing else he could even consider wearing and shut the samples brochure. He wasn’t sure how many he’d selected in the end, but there was a satisfied look on Other-Gordon’s face, so he decided to call that torment to a close and nodded. Beaming what had to be a fake customer pleasing smile, she elegantly made her way to her feet, apparently not impeded by the ridiculousness of her dress. “Then if you’d like to follow me to the fitting rooms?”

What.

Fitting rooms?

Had some formal clothes snuck into his selection or something?

Other-Gordon nudged him seemingly accidentally as he stood up. Scott assumed that was another signal to just go along with it. Reluctantly, he found his way to his feet and followed Madeleine’s swirl of fabric, raising an eyebrow at Other-Gordon when the other man followed. He got a grin in return.

At least someone was having fun. Scott missed online shopping. He really hoped he wasn’t going to have to go through this rigmarole for every item they were buying.

The fitting room really should be called a fitting chamber. It was at least as big as his bedroom at home, if not bigger, with plush seats and an area designed to be screened off, presumably for changing. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be unusual for Other-Scott to use the curtains, because Scott was well aware how many scars he had from rescues, and while Other-Gordon had already briefly seen him shirtless he wasn’t sure Madeleine would be expecting that many scars on a lazy billionaire’s son.

“Please, make yourself comfortable while I collect the shirts,” the woman said, gesturing to the chairs. “I will only be a few moments.”

Then she was gone, and it was just the two of them in the room.

“You don’t get your clothes fitted?” Other-Gordon asked, quietly, a beat after the door slid shut. Scott took that as an indication that no-one would hear him if he spoke, and leaned forwards with a sigh.

“I normally shop online,” he grumbled. “Much less hassle.”

“On… Line?” Other-Gordon parroted the word with clear confusion in his voice, and Scott rolled his eyes, half at the other man, half at the world in general. He should have known that would be another difference.

“Different technology,” he dismissed. “You’re not telling me I have to go through this for everything, are you?”

“You’re getting a custom hoodie,” Other-Gordon reminded him. “And designer jeans.” Scott groaned. “But they won’t measure you for underwear.”

“You’re never going to drop that, are you?” It was so old it was ancient at this point, but from the grin on Other-Gordon’s face, that clearly didn’t matter to him. Amber eyes flashed with amusement before turning serious.

“Don’t forget the curtain,” he warned. “Scott’s scars aren’t the same as yours.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Scott assured him. He probably shouldn’t be surprised that Other-Gordon had gleaned that from when he’d borrowed Other-Scott’s clothes, but hearing a comparison still startled him. “I-”

The door slid open and he cut himself off.

“Sorry for the wait, Monsieur Tracy,” Madeleine greeted, an entire hangar of shirts trailing behind her on wheels. “According to your previous custom, these should be of an approximate fit.”

Previous-? Other-Scott also shopped there? He supposed that made sense, even if he suddenly felt the pressure to absolutely not slip up, because Madeleine probably knew Other-Scott. That might have been useful to know earlier.

There was a lot he hadn’t been told before this trip, and he was starting to wish they’d spent a little more time talking before leaving the island. The sensation of being out of his depth was starting to make itself known again from where it had settled in the relative familiarity of the flight over.

“All looks that way,” Other-Gordon said suddenly, and Scott realised he hadn’t given any sort of response. He really had to get his head in the game. “So, which one first, Scott?”

Resisting the instinct to take a deep breath in front of Madeleine, he stood and gestured at the blue one he’d picked out first from the catalogue. She took it off the hangar for him with a large smile.

“Take your time, Monsieur Tracy,” she told him. “Come out when you’re ready.”

Scott barely made it to the curtained off area, drawing the thick material across and shutting himself away from the other two, before slumping against the wall and taking a deep breath. Now was not a good time to get overwhelmed. If it was just Other-Gordon-

No, he’d done more than enough breaking down in front of other people already. He took another deep breath, looking down at the shirt gripped in his hands. His hands were trembling, the bandages over his knuckles suddenly stark against his skin. Visible. How was he supposed to explain away bandaged knuckles when he was pretending to be a lazy billionaire’s son? Madeleine must have spotted it.

He tore his gaze away from the fabric and instead looked up at the ceiling, feeling the hat on his head dig in awkwardly as his head leant against the wall. More deep breaths, each shakier than the last, and somewhere in the back of his mind he realised he was headed for a full panic attack.

No. He couldn’t do that. Not with Madeleine a single curtain away. Other-Scott had an image to maintain and he couldn’t ruin it. He had to-

“Is everything alright, Monsieur Tracy?” Madeleine’s voice was close, too close. She could probably hear his messed up breathing, knew something was wrong, knew he was falling apart the other side of the suddenly too-thin curtain, and-

“I’ll check on him,” Other-Gordon said. “Scott? I’m coming in.”

He’d slipped around the curtain before Scott registered his words, amber eyes falling on him and widening for a split second. Then, like a switch had been flicked, his whole demeanour changed. It wasn’t the jovial man that had been teasing for most of their time away from the island, but nor was it the sharp, military-like edge he’d held when he was being serious.

Instead it was calm, reassuring, and with slow, obvious movements the shorter man was taking the shirt from his hands, folding the fabric over one arm. “Sit,” he instructed, quietly.

This was his International Rescue façade, Scott realised dimly as he sank down onto a stool he hadn’t even registered was there. Other-Gordon crouched down in front of him, gently removing the shades he’d forgotten he was wearing and making firm eye contact.

“Breathe in,” he said, voice still low. “Do you want me to count you?”

Scott took in another breath, inwardly wincing at how shaky it was, before exhaling again. Slowly, deliberately choreographing his movements, Other-Gordon rested a single hand on his knee. The touch was light, but grounding, and Scott’s next attempt at a deep breath was markedly less shaky. Another, and then another, with Other-Gordon almost silently guiding him with words too quiet to be heard the other side of the curtain.

Once he had enough of a grip of himself that panic felt no longer imminent, he leant back, tension bleeding from his shoulders.

“Better?” Other-Gordon asked, and he nodded, opening his mouth to speak before a raised eyebrow reminded him otherwise. “Should we call it? You can come back-”

“No,” Scott cut him off, clamping his mouth shut when he realised his mistake. He shook his head. If they left now, he’d have to come back later, and he wasn’t sure he could do that. He certainly didn’t want to have to face Not-Dad and tell him they didn’t finish because he panicked. Better to get it over and done with now.

Other-Gordon eyed him dubiously for a moment before sighing and pulling himself to his feet. “If you say so,” he said. “Let me give you a hand.”

Give-? The blue fabric still draped over the aquanaut’s arm caught his eye. Oh yes, he was supposed to have been putting it on. He didn’t want help getting changed, and certainly didn’t need it, but there was a look in amber eyes that said quite plainly that Other-Gordon wasn’t going anywhere.

Then again, if their roles were reversed, Scott wouldn’t be going anywhere either.

Deciding the best route was to ignore him as best he could, Scott shrugged the waistcoat off, before plucking at the buttons on the shirt he was wearing. To his credit, Other-Gordon didn’t try to actively help, only taking the clothes once he’d removed them and holding out the blue shirt for him to take.

“Monsieurs?” Madeleine called just as he was fastening the last button. “Is there a problem?”

Other-Gordon pressed the sunglasses into his hands and readjusted the hat on his head before slipping back outside.

“Nothing to be worried about,” he assured her. “Whatever he’s caught that’s gone and taken his voice gives him dizzy moments, too. Fella just had a spell, but it’s passed now.”

So now he was ill instead of just having lost his voice? Scott wanted to be amused, but in reality he just felt thankful that Other-Gordon was quick at thinking on his feet.

“Oh, I understand,” she said. Scott hurried to put the sunglasses back on and took one last deep breath before pushing the curtain back. “Monsieur Tracy, we can hold the items for you if you’d rather come back at a later date?”

Remembering in time not to talk, Scott waved her off with a small grin. It was forced; smiling wasn’t something he felt like doing but the last thing he wanted was to have to come back.

“He’ll be fine,” Other-Gordon assured her. “This won’t take long, will it?”

“Oh, not at all,” Madeleine hurried to promise, and Scott’s grin felt just a little less forced at that. “If you would stand here…” She gestured to a small step and Scott obeyed, watching as she bustled around him with pins, tugging at the fabric until it lay flat across his shoulders and hung just right. Compared to some fittings he’d had, it certainly didn’t feel like it took too long; after what had to have been only a few minutes, she was nodding her approval and handing him the next shirt to put on.

Other-Gordon followed him behind the curtain this time, not giving him the opportunity to refuse the company. Scott got the feeling he wouldn’t be letting him out of his sight again until they were back on the island, but where before he might have bristled at the lack of privacy, now he found himself reassured by the other man’s presence. If nothing else, it helped keep his mind on the task at hand as he peeled the pin-infested shirt away from his body gingerly and accepted the new one while Other-Gordon hung the first on a hangar.

The rest of the fitting went in much the same fashion, Madeleine working quickly but efficiently and Other-Gordon shadowing him in a way that should have been bothersome but was somehow comforting, and before long all of the shirts – eleven, apparently – were stuck through with pins and back on the rail.

“Is there anything else you would like to order, Monsieur Tracy?” the woman asked once Scott was once again dressed in Other-Scott’s borrowed clothes. She was clearly addressing him, but her eyes were on Other-Gordon, much to Scott’s relief. While he knew what he wanted, he didn’t know where he could get them. For that, he was reliant on the other man.

“Not today,” Other-Gordon answered. “When will they be ready to collect?”

“For you, we will have them done by Tuesday,” she replied. Scott realised he had no idea what the day was.

“Perfect,” Other-Gordon grinned, before fishing out a card from his pocket and handing it to her. She beamed and scurried off, presumably to take the payment.

Scott had absolutely no idea how much that had just come to.

Whatever the damage was, Other-Gordon seemed entirely fine with it, keeping his grin on his face as she returned with the card and a paper receipt, so Scott assumed it was within expectations.

Other-Gordon and Madeleine finalised arrangements for the shirts to be collected on Tuesday, leaving Scott with the sinking feeling he’d likely be stuck borrowing Other-Scott’s clothes for however many days away that was, before bidding farewell. Following suit, Scott offered his own nod of thanks and farewell before finding himself being subtly guided back out of the shop and towards the car by the ginger.

Chapter 9>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #long way from home #gordon tracy

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mattkenzie · 5 years ago

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So this year I was listening to some music the other day (I bought some CDs as I like to have something that I can physically hold) so I’m usually the guy who listens to rock and metal... But recently I’ve been listening to something that I don’t usually listen to “Dun dun DUN!” Musicals! So anyway I was listening to Say My Name (from Beetlejuice) on YouTube it does seem different from the old musical I disliked as a kid.

So anyway I was exposed to a musical Be More Chill (Two Rivers Theatre) and I loved how the music is so lively and upbeat. I enjoyed the humour (it’s pretty much my cup of Mountain Dew) but sadly due to this stupid law about distributing goods which contains a high amount of caffeine from the States we have to have our own “watered down” version of Mountain Dew without that crazy yellow colour and citrusy flavour that packs a punch (like explosive, but not sharp like 7up)... But I can make a mean UK variant of a “Mountain Dew Code Red” clone!). “Yes Squip... you love Lemon 🍋 but you hate Cherry 🍒”

My Fan Theory: So I thought I’d go straight to the plot point and talk about the plot device, the Super Quantum Unit Intel Prossessor (a.k.a S.Q.U.I.P) and why they originated from Japan. So I was watching this video from Gaijin Goomba a long time ago where he talked about his life living in Japanese society and since living there for a long time (as an english teacher). Gaijin Goomba was talking about this video MeMeMe (I won’t show as it’s NSFW) which has hit him home really hard with depression, so there were times he hid himself from his room where he is surrounded by his Manga and Anime. Now this is condition that is quite common in Japanese culture and the person who choose to live in recluse shutting themselves off from the world to become modern day hermits, known as a ‘Hikikomori’.

A Hikikomori is a person who shut themselves away from society by secluding themselves in their room and living off their parents and confine themselves to their rooms ignoring the world passing by them (this is considered shameful in Japanese society and the parents would keep their hikiomori son/daughter a secret from their friends, family and co-workers), so the hikikomori is surrounded by their love of video games, manga, anime, figurines, hentai... etc, all because that in their country Japan is a hyper competitive society. I know that in western society, we tend to joke about “the 40-something year olds who lives with their mother.”

Jeremy: You look like Keanu Reeves!

Sqiup: That is my default setting, I can be who you want to be, Jeremy. I can also be Sean Connery, Jack Nickleson or even a sexy anime female... tee hee hee.

Notice that the Squip quoted an ‘sexy anime female’ as one of it’s interface options so in my theory, I believe that Squips are pretty much aimed towards those who have high anxiety issues, little to no ambition or direction in their lives... Squips are aimed towards the hikikomori, so the Squip’s primary objective is to give the recluse subject an ‘incentive’ to leave their parents house or apartment by first becoming what they love the most... to become the subjects favourite fictional characters in a video game, tv show, cartoon or their favourite actors by becoming buddy-buddy with their subject by helping the hikikomori by not making the subject ‘cool’ but instead ‘independent’ by giving them basic life skills like cooking and go shopping. (Because in reality, their is a brother/sister program is the cheap and humane approach to get the hikikomori to come out of their rooms, get out of the house, get a stable job and become a reforming member of society.)

Starting with Be More Chill (Part 1) and pay attention to the lyrics.

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Squip: (Song: Be More Chill, Verse 1) All your nerdiness is ugly.

Squip: (Part 1: Chorus) Oh everything about you is so terrible, whoa, everything about you makes me want to die.

We see that the Squip addressed Jeremy’s posture which is a start because posture is everything, next the Squip made an observation that Jeremy’s ‘nerdiness is ugly’ (like any typical Dad telling you stop being a kid, grow up, be an adult.) But put it in the perspective of a hikimomori, if the Squip did not once talked about the dangers of consumerism (though he should have) it wanted us to figure that one out on our own (as humans, we don’t) until later in the song in the second chorus and part 2.

In the first chorus the Squip is pleading to Jeremy that he needs ‘to live’ as a person (still no context) because the Squip wanted to say “I want to be your personal assistant, If you don’t live, I’ll have no purpose and I am giving you purpose in life, please don’t go down this path you’ll be no better than a hikikomori and I can’t live without you... I’m begging you!”

The second verse The Squip would request the subject to simply get a job (without using the words get a job) so it subtly told Jeremy to ‘buy a shirt’ because beyond school and college ‘the real world’ is competitive even in the Squip’s place of origin, Japan.

So in another chorus the Squip made a rebuttal that if Jeremy kept on living like a ‘nerd’ and a ‘slob’ the worst case scenario is that the childish things like anime and manga will become something more drastic... having hentai and porno magazines so the general public’s perception of you would be shameful and label you as a disgusting pervert ‘Everything about you [your lifestyle] sucks, you are such a slob’ (Yep, like the same traits Hikikomori that you didn’t gave us the heads up about the dangers of consumerism, Squip!) The Squip would go as far as literally going to the extremes of using ‘shock tactics’ to scare their hikikomori into looking at their lifestyle choices.

Now pay attention to the opening to Be More Chill (Part 2)

youtube

Squip: Now Repeat after me, oh everything about me is so terrible.

Jeremy: Everything about me is so terrible.

Squip: Good, Whoa, everything about you make me makes me want to die.

Jeremy: Everything about me makes me want to die.

Although the Squip didn’t mention (in detail) about the hikikomori lifestle, it went with the direct approach. “If you continue to like the life as a hikikomori, YOU WILL DIE ALONE because you are not living!”

But what happens if the subject chooses not comply with the Squip and rebel? Well the answer is simple, shocking the subject and gradually optic cloaking their parents to make the hikikomori think that their parents couldn’t put up with their anti-social behaviour anymore so the subject would believe that their folks gave up, packed up and moved. (Yep, the hikikomori could have the tendency to become violent so the Squip is protecting the subject’s parents so they won’t get hurt) and if the Squip fails to protect the subject’s parents, it would call the police.

My third case is controversial use for Squips and that is used on teenagers who have a cognitive behavioural disorder known as Chunnibyou this is known as Eigth-Grader Syndrome who consider themselves to be special (the chosen one, a hero, wizard, demon lord, angel, alien or a beast-kin) like symptoms and want these teenagers who refuse to let go of childish fantasies so the Squip tells the chouniibyou to grow up, stop believing that you are some sort of anomaly, you aren’t going to save or destroy the world because you know that deep down you are merely a human, you are a teenager who is slowly becoming an adult so act like one become members of society.

Final Synopsis:

It’s kind of a shame that a Squip doesn’t understand the concept of having a hobby but when you are an adult, society dictates that you have to let go of childish things because if you guys/gals and non-binary pals ever played Super Smash Bros. Brawl where you face Taboo in Subspace Emissary. You see, taboo is the final boss and in the dictionary it’s means:-

A social or religious custom that is prohibiting or restraining a particular practice or forbidding association with a particular person, place or thing.

Because society tells us that “as adults we are too old to be watching cartoons, play with dolls/action figures... etc” so because the Squip originated from Japan maybe it’s mentality is similar to having a work/business ethnic. (They have a different language when at work so if you are not speaking “business formally” you could get fired!)

To me I am an adult and their is a fine line between responsibility and freedom because there are times where responsibility demands sacrifice (I am a former Magic The Gathering player, yes, I may suck at the game but I love the art) but Magic The Gathering cards aren’t going to put bread on the table, my graphic novels aren’t going to heat up my house and I also need electricity to play my video games. There are times when a brand NEW book will arrives in a month but deep down I can’t afford so I have to put a few books back on it’s shelf and buy them next time.

If a Squip was in the US (or in my case the UK) mental health is important so I would feel sorry for the Squip to not understand how great it is to have things to be passionate about. Yes, being organised is one thing I know I have bills to pay, clothing on my back and food in the fridge but it’s OK to let my hair down and let off some steam once in a while and be spontaneous have some fun.

#be more chill #squip #bmc squip

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pixelgrotto · 5 years ago

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Ladies and lords of Waterdeep

From April of 2019 to June of 2020, I ran Waterdeep: Dragon Heist, a Dungeons & Dragons campaign for levels 1-5, for two groups - a party of three gals and a party of six guys. This was a tricky undertaking - mostly because as written, Dragon Heist is kind of a mess (more on that in a sec) - but also because I had to balance an adventure for two very different audiences that really only shared the commonality of being filled with D&D newbies. It was a worthwhile endeavor, though, and looking back on the experience reveals some interesting food for thought on how to remix an adventure, as well as how some ladies and gents experience roleplaying games differently.

First, let me briefly discuss the adventure itself. Dragon Heist is meant to be an urban outing set in the Forgotten Realms metropolis of Waterdeep, which I described to my New York-dwelling players as “pretty much a fantasy version of NYC.” Over the course of five levels, players inherit and possibly renovate an old tavern, catch wind of an ancient heap of gold beneath the city and run into a bunch of important figures from Forgotten Realms history, ranging from Laeral Silverhand to Volothamp Geddarm. All of that’s epic, and the only issue is that the adventure’s laid out in a pretty shoddy way.

There are four chapters in Dragon Heist, and the first is the only one that can be run with a minimum of hacking on the part of the Dungeon Master. The other three present a so-called “toolbox” of vague ideas for missions with Waterdeep’s various adventuring factions, as well as middling advice for scenes like a rooftop chase and a battle with a chain devil in a crypt, but it’s all highly disorganized with a minimum of connective tissue, requiring heavy lifting on the DM’s part to stitch together. The book is also rife with excessive red herrings for players to stumble upon as they search for the treasure trove, way too many characters with overly long names, and last but not least, there’s a lack of an actual “heist” in the grand finale, which is more scavenger hunt than Ocean’s Eleven.

With all these criticisms, why did I choose to run this book for not one, but two different groups at the same time? It was largely because I’d just finished playing through Dragon Heist with my own character - a mask-wearing teenage street urchin who fancied herself a swashbuckler. I’d had a more-enjoyable-than-not time with the folks I played with, but the guy who DMed had a habit of sending us on the aforementioned red herrings for multiple sessions at a time, with nary an interesting combat encounter or social challenge in sight. I don’t really blame him for this - especially seeing at how poorly the book was laid out afterwards - but immediately after finishing, I was approached by two friend groups who wanted to try their hand at D&D, and this gave me the excuse to see if I could do a better job.

Since I already had a clear example of which pitfalls to avoid, the version of Dragon Heist that I ran heavily remixed all of the elements in the book, with an emphasis on streamlining whenever possible and always making it feel like my players were accomplishing something. This is usually my underlying philosophy whenever I run a game, but it’s an essential strategy for newbies who might be driven off of roleplaying games altogether by bad pacing. For instance, as written, there’s an annoying series of fetch quests near the end of the story where players have to find a number of keys in order to open the hidden treasure vault. These keys are random as heck, ranging from semi-sensible McGuffins like a bronze dragon scale to bonkers junk like a ballad played by two dwarven bards and a friggin’ unicorn. This whole exercise in randomness reminded me of the worst of video game filler, and I cut it out entirely by having the son of the man who hid the treasure accompany the characters, with a drop of his blood activating the magic needed to open the vault’s doors. (This also led to an amusing situation where the guys were stuck as they ruminated on how to open the vault...until the dude playing the goliath suddenly shouted, “I GRAB RENAER’S HAND, CUT IT AND SMEAR THE BLOOD ALL OVER THE DOOR!” and I was like, “Okay. It...opens!”)

Because my players were nearly all D&D virgins, I also wanted them to get their money’s worth by encountering all four of Dragon Heist’s villains - Xanathar the beholder, the devil-worshipping Cassalanter nobles, Manshoon the cloned wizard and Jarlaxle the drow rogue. As written, Dragon Heist touts itself as highly replayable, since DMs are only supposed to choose one villain for their players to go up against. The problem is that all of the bad guys are teased on the cover, and the beginning chapters dangle most of them into the narrative with the players caught in the middle. This created a lot of confusion when I was a player, as my companions and I kept hearing about Xanathar and Manshoon...only for them to suddenly disappear halfway through as Jarlaxle took center stage as the big bad. And so, in order to circumvent this confusion and make both the boys and the girls feel like they were getting a quintessential experience with a minimum of loose ends, I threw in all the baddies. (I wasn’t the only one to do this - tabletop RPG designer Justin Alexander also recommends this approach on his blog The Alexandrian, where he offers an impressive revision of Dragon Heist that I probably would’ve used if I hadn’t discovered it too late.)

So, when it came down to actually rolling dice, how’d my two groups interact with the material? I think it’s safe to say that both the girls and the boys hit the same major story beats and had a grand time doing so, but the nuances of their experiences were fascinatingly different. The girls, for instance, dove into the art of roleplaying and devising histories for their characters, and one of them decided to play as an elf from a seafaring clan and gave me a whole backstory involving the ocean that inspired my “final boss” for Dragon Heist, an evil, decaying dragon from the Elemental Plane of Water that isn’t in the book. (Hey, it’s called Dungeons & Dragons, the story’s named Dragon Heist, and since I wasn’t sure if all of my players would stick around for future campaigns, I figured I’d better stick a notable battle with a big scaly lizard in there somewhere.)

The girls also got way more into some of the social justice subplots that permeated my version of Dragon Heist, pushing hard for Waterdeep to remove the anti-dragon magic bubble that surrounded the city and excluded an entire species from its borders. Their interactions with non-player characters - often progressing along the lines of “well, if you feel like you want us to do this quest for you, then we certainly can” - reflected this sort of empathy, and even though this sounds incredibly stereotypical, by the time the final session wrapped up, all three of the gals had either shipped or flirted with NPCs that they’d encountered during their journey. One of ‘em even ended up hitched with a baby!

The boys, by contrast, were much less likely to devise in-depth character histories beyond “I’M IN THIS CITY TO GET MY MONEY,” and their NPC conversations also frequently waded into “GIMME MY GOLD” territory. I don’t want to make it sound like their characters were just two dimensional mercenaries, though, because definite, organic progression occurred over the course of the campaign - the goliath who couldn’t read gradually worked his way through Volo’s Guide to Monsters and became fluent in Celestial after joining the Order of the Gauntlet, for instance.

Where the boys clearly felt more at home than the girls was in combat, probably because 1) there were six of them as opposed to the three ladies, and 2) they collectively had lots of video game knowledge, and D&D’s influence has kinda trickled down to every video game ever made. It didn’t take long for some of the dudes to begin subconsciously min/maxing their characters, and while there were two major deaths in unpredictable boss fights, the boys did go through a long period where they were just steamrolling everything to come their way and yelling, “LET’S FUCKIN’ GOOOO” as they did so. In contrast, DMing for the girls during combat sequences was occasionally a nail-biting experience where I didn’t know who was going to survive, and since some of this was due to my own slapdash encounter design where I underestimated the abilities of the monsters they were up against, I made sure to give them lots of friendly NPCs who could potentially offer a helping hand, or even resurrection spells if needed.

Both groups were aware of the other’s existence, and I’d sometimes playfully pit them against one another. (Example: The guys often forgot who was who, and one time one of ‘em looked down at his character sheet and was like, “MY NOTES ARE SUCH SHIT” which made me respond, “Well, y’know the girls take really good notes...”) But at the end of the campaign, when my players asked me which party was more fun to DM for, my answer was that both groups were great. The girls were bursting with imaginative roleplay, and they gave me real moments of glee as they responded to story twists with the legitimate surprise and wonder that comes from people who aren’t already overexposed to fantasy tropes and gaming culture. The boys gave me that feeling of what some fans affectionately call “beer & pretzels D&D,” where you’re shooting the breeze with your buddies, playfully teasing each other and going for broke in combat encounters.

I want to stress that the ladies I DMed for were absolutely not representative of how all women might approach D&D, and the exact same thing must be said for the fellas. This was no planned sociology or gender studies experiment that I conducted, in other words - it was merely a thing that I did with two friend groups, and the resulting experiences were two opposite yet totally valid sides of the same RPG coin. And while I doubt that I’ll run the same campaign in the future for two different groups at once (let alone a campaign as wonky as Dragon Heist), I like to think that as someone who tries to advocate for how roleplaying games can be fun, welcoming experiences for all, I played a small role (hah) in bringing swords, sorcery and storytelling to the lives of people who might not have experienced such imaginative forays otherwise.

Already, both the gals and the guys are whipping up ideas for future characters and checking out stuff like Critical Role...which means that my work here, at least for the moment, is done.

#pixel grotto #musings #tabletop gaming #dungeons & dragons #d&d #waterdeep: dragon heist

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kjs-s · 8 years ago

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Title: The brave boy

Another fairy tale for @seekret-fanfic and her son based on his great youtube video.

SUMMARY A little nervous boy is the only hope of his cursed village.

Once upon a time in a small village lived a smart and creative young boy named Jonas. He was living in a beautiful home with his parents who loved him more than anything.

Jonas had many friends but sometimes he also enjoyed being alone.

One day he was playing carefree by himself on the steep hill right outside of the village. He was so invested in his game that he didn’t notice the shadowy figure approaching from the other side. He only became aware of everything that was happening when he heard a sound. It was a wizard who was laughing evilly as he was floating above the village. He was putting a curse of the citizens but Jonas couldn’t tell what exactly the curse was doing to the people. He could only clearly see the wizard leaving a dark cloud above the village and leave to go witness the chaos from afar.

Jonas then knew that he was the only one who could break the curse and save everyone. However, he was afraid that he would do something wrong and not only not rescue the people, but anger the wizard making him retaliate on them.

His lone option was to gain courage and he realized he had exactly what he needed for that. Earlier that day, his mom was experimenting with new potions, and she made one that would give anyone the chance to create clones of themselves. Jonas always wanted to help her with the potions but she never let him test them. Luckily today was the only day she actually allowed him to get a little considering he wouldn’t prank anyone and knowing that his clones would disappear after three hours.

The potion gave him the opportunity to make only two clones but they were enough. ‘’A wizard cursed everyone and we are the only ones who can do something about it. I don’t think I can do anything but I hope we can achieve something together.’’

‘’And you created us to help you, wise choice Jonas. As you can already tell, I am the smart one of your clones. I will help you come up with a plan in order to defeat the wizard. Do you know what he wants?’’ The smart clone asked.

‘’I don’t and I must find out. But I am too scared to confront him alone.’’ Jonas confessed

‘’You won’t be alone. You have the protection mom’s potion gave us all. And I will make you a sword if you need to fight.’’ The resourceful clone spoke.

‘’You are right, would you please get to work on that sword? How are we on that plan smartie?’’Jonas felt a little more confident.

‘’I suggest we split up. I and the other clone..’’

‘’My name is Mark.’’

‘’Mine is Tom, fine so, I and Mark will go into the village to check on the people. We will also have to help a little with the recovery once you break the curse.’’

‘’And I will do that simply by talking to the wizard?’’ Jonas was still a little apprehensive about the plan.

‘’Just start by finding out what he wants and then if he wants something difficult you can always summon us to come to you. Now get the sword Mark made and go to see the wizard.’’ Tom urged him.

Jonas went to the other side of the village where the wizard was sitting observing what he had created.

‘’So I left one of the residents out of my control. It’s brave of you to come here, boy.’’ He said with a smile on his face being sure that the boy in front of him won’t be able to defeat him in combat.

‘’I came here to ask you what do you want from us. My village is small and quiet, we haven’t done anything wrong to anyone ever.’’

‘’I know that. However, I seek out villages to capture and I ask for the most valiant warrior to combat me. I was about to go and make them decide before you show up. Should I assume you will be the one to try and stop me?’’ He thought we could easily intimidate Jonas but he was wrong.

‘’Yes I will. I have my sword with me and I will stop you.’’

They fought and Jonas wounded the wizard’s hands. Noticing that they were the source of his powers he realized that wounding them wound be enough. He was absolutely right and because of the pain in his hands, the wizard couldn’t keep the curse on the people anymore.

‘’I am deciding to spare your life under two conditions. First of all, leave and never come back here. And secondly, don’t put any more curses because if you do I will find you and avenge the people you would harm.’’

The wizard agreed and left the village never to return.

Jonas went back home. His parents narrated to him all about how helpful the clones were and that they disappeared the moment the curse broke.

All the citizens were thankful to Jonas and insisted on giving him lots of gifts. But he felt that their praise was enough of a reward. The only thing he asked was his favorite food and plenty of hugs from his mom.

People who might like it @writing-journeyx @sergeantdodds @locke-writes @romantichen @once-upon-an-imagine @dresupi

#fairy tale #my writing #hope it's good #and you guys will like it

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derkastellan · 5 years ago

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Musings: Fanboys...

I hope I don’t come over as a negative nelly in general, I have to admit coming from a culture that likes to criticize. A minor sample maybe, but in the heady days Google+ (which was quite a boon for roleplayers in general) I was part of a discussion where a bunch of grumpy Germans complained that our American friends tended to hype even rather mediocre products over the moon - and would avidly defend their makers from criticism.

I even forgot the name of the product - a copy-cat imitation of the Forgotten Realms (themselves not the most original product at times) for Savage Worlds. Ah yes, Shaintar. Found it. I remember one reviewer quipping that the map only contained equidistant cities. A bit of a cardinal sin for making a varied map.

I come to this from two recent experiences - trying out Monte Cook’s Numenera and then reinstalling Torment: Tides of Numenera to play it after it sat there for two years or more, unfinished.

I like Numenera for its setting, but I think the game system is seriously overhyped among its fans. It tries to codify how the GM interacts with the story into meta-gaming with the players, and it does so poorly, and it at times tries to solve the wrong problems. Basically, “GM intrusions” are meant to make the game “more interesting” but the first thing they came up with in the original edition was to say “well, your sword breaks in the middle of combat.” And they have been struggling with finding a better way to express it since. Taking the Narrative by the Tail is another product failing to do so.

Now, over time “GM intrusions” (and now: “Player Intrusions”) have evolved by people using them. If you like the idea of giving the players a bit of a story choice the system is workable but frankly to me it just messes with the natural flow of GMing a game and pacing it well. Also, by now reddit provides many decent examples of GM intrusions and help for many other of Numenera’s issues. Of which there are plenty. The game tries to be not as crunchy (and definitely not as combat-oriented) but it only gets there halfway. It is neither a good/pure story game nor does it truly leave its d20 roots behind. It leaves many areas poorly defined - like what is an action, what is a saving throw/free roll? It’s wishy-washy language and omissions make several focus descriptors and powers in the game something the GM has to research online or figure out for themselves, when really these should have been properly game-designed given they made it into the core book of a game. (And 2nd edition, at that! Does all of this truly get play-tested?)

You wouldn’t know this from reading through the internet. Some people are over the moon about this game as if it set them free from some imaginary shackles. You would at times this is a gift from the gods to players and GMs alike. I guess if you only ever played D&D and clones before this might be true (somewhat), but there are so many other RPGs out there just as good or better. Don’t get me wrong: Numenera is a solid, enjoyable experience. But it’s also at times clunky and not exceptional as a game engine.

Its setting is exceptional , though. It sometimes relies a bit on fridge logic, but is interesting, fascinating, full of potential, and encourages many play styles from regular dungeon fantasy to horror and even to building your own settlement. The game is well-supported and there are some gems for it. (And what fridge logic you ask? You have had at least one galaxy-dominating previous culture on Earth but it just left the Numenera of these other civilizations untouched, even though it must have surpassed all these other civilizations? This does not compute... There are several of these in this game.)

And therein, I think, lies the rub. You see, when people tend to fall in love with something - the feeling of being freed from some rules-lawyering shackles maybe, or a great setting, they tend to view the whole thing through rose-tinted glasses. Even things worthy of critique.

There is another game where I experienced this, a game in comparison to which Numenera shines but has some similarities with. Shadow of the Demon Lord. It is another attempt at a lighter version of a D&D-like game that sells itself through its setting. What lured me in was them claiming they had a rich and varied set of classes customizable into 64 variations that was somehow similar to Warhammer Fantasy RPG (which I had not played at that point, but 4th edition I’ve discussed since...).

Numenera and SotDL have indeed something very much in common. They both allow you to select from a big set of character building options to build very narrowly defined, one-trick pony characters. Have a few powers from the same theme but not many, definitely too few to build a varied toolbox to solve problems with.

For Numenera I realized this when playing Torment: Tides of Numenera. You quickly realize how few powers and variations you have thereof in a computer game.Both the CRPG and the tabletop try to explain that limitation away by de-emphasizing combat, or claiming to do so. Fact is, tabletop Numenera has slews of interesting, captivating, and visually brilliantly depicted enemies that feature everywhere in the game, so combat, while not directly rewarded, is as much a feature of the game as in D&D almost. You don’t publish 350+ pages (Ninth World Bestiary 1 & 2, beautiful products!) worth of monster manual without intending the GM to use it... but as varied as these might be, your character is not.

The one-use cyphers and artifacts then serve to give you the missing problem-solving capabilities and to vary your approach, but think about it for a moment. If the GM hands out a cypher befitting your problem, how is that different from playing a point-and-click adventure on tabletop? Figure out where and how to apply the solution. A puzzle. Often in D&D your wizard, cleric, druid, etc powers can become tools expanding the ways in which you solve things your own way. Given the limits of your class builds items become their replacement in Numenera. And frankly, I’m quite okay with that! (Though it becomes very unconvincing in the generic Cypher System spun off from Numenera and The Strange.) By which I mean, at least you have something here to build a toolbox, albeit a temporary one, from. (And after all, didn’t most of the powers a character could really rely on in old-school D&D come from their gear?)

Shadows and Demons and... oh Lord, why?

In comparison, SotDL character feel ... just limited. I quickly discovered how poorly balanced the game was when running it for a few levels with my players. When you don’t optimize the build for the fighter type, you can’t get into the heavy gear early and the rogue became, by no special virtue of the player, the main damage dealer. The wizard and cleric types had very limited spell selections, and the wizard was the better healer by virtue of being able to get into additional spell schools. The wording of many powers was confusing and I had regular rules questions for the web community without satisfying answers.

The choices you make during character evolution hem you in, forcing you to live with your limiting choices, they do not expand your character, at least it doesn’t feel this way. There may be 64 variations, but they are all very limited in scope, making characters of very limited capability. The poor balancing between basic classes and the unsatisfying rules made me switch the group to 5th edition D&D, and we never regretted that in comparison.

But again other people reacted in general very differently to the game, and maybe that was due to liking the setting. You see, I didn’t like the setting and did have a very different game in mind. (And now they are releasing a version basically doing the same. A bit late for me, but maybe they want to expand away from their original buyer base.)

But people may have very well liked the dark fantasy, horror, grim vibe. And if you’re into that, maybe it delivers for you. I can’t tell. I honestly can’t. I do know however that the game was well-supported with a slew of expansion books and adventures, giving people plenty to chew on. And I think that combination of setting and support plus some hype gave many people reason to like the game. (And it is a lighter engine, no doubt, if you prefer that kind of thing. I usually do!)

Wherein I actually try to make the original point

And that’s what I’m getting at. It’s hard to put out your own view of these games without running into people who behave like fanboys. And I am actually happy I only was disagreed with emphatically, but not in a hateful way. It just annoys me that people want to ignore a game’s failings because it also has strengths. Do a few things right enough and you will attract people who will see no wrong.

Now, Steam’s binary rating system (recommend/do not recommend) doesn’t help with videogames for example, but when seeing that Torment: Tides of Numenera has by now a “Mostly Positive” rating one has to wonder. The game is mediocre at best, really buggy, and short. But I have to admit because of its setting and aspirations of living up to a much better game, people to tend to give it a lot of credit where little is due. Admittedly my opinion, but you can find many well-reasoned, well-written scathing reviews of the game.

Yet people have by now elevated it into “Most Positive” where “Mixed Ratings” would serve it just right. Neither good nor all bad. But somehow how people would like to feel about it, or people wanting to push the genre, or people getting it for less money erased over time all the controversy of unfulfilled promises, bugs, or its other failings. (I reviewed it here if you are interested. I will say no more.)

Criticize what is improvable, love what’s great. I might even give the new SotDL spin-off a try. I am sometimes very critical of games but I always hope for a lot. And I wish these games were fixed and improved upon, not left in the state they are. I wish there would be a better edition of Dungeon Crawl Classics because the game could benefit from a coherent feel and vision, right now it’s a mess, but a lovable one. I wish there were improved versions of both the games I discussed here at length because I like well-supported games, and these issues are fixable. (And sadly, you can criticize computer games all you want, but few are fixed. I’m happy that some publishers listen and Pillars of Eternity, Divinity: Original Sin, and a few others got better sequels.)

Frankly, I might like playing Numenera with 5th edition rules better, and they offer that. While this is another hype money train everybody wants to get on, if done right, it can work. 5e is a solid, robust system, and while delivering mostly one kind of experience, it does so very well.

What I’m saying is that all games are improvable. New editions can be made, compatible even with older ones. D&D had 3rd edition superseded with 3.5 for good reasons. Numenera: Discovery balanced the basic classes better in terms of powers, it was quite apparent that they tried to avoid players making un-hittable jacks or glaives spamming the same moves all the time. Games evolve and they should. By making Numenera: Discovery pregens for a Numenera 1st edition adventure I realized how subtle the changes were and started to appreciate them.

Just dare to call a horse a horse. While I prefer peaceful fanboys over the trolling kind, there’s no reason to spare improvable games criticism. And all games are improvable!

(And to be fair, Numenera does a lot of things right. It’s mechanic to reduce a roll’s difficulty to 0 and thereby avoiding it is a very worthy addition to the role-playing catalog. It rewards skillful stacking of advantages and makes players feel they have reliable competence at their hands like no d100, d20, or 3d6 system can imitate.)

#role-playing #rpg #tabletop #pen & paper #musings #numenera #shadow of the demon lord

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derkastellan · 8 years ago

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Impressions: DCC86 - Hole in the Sky

This week saw the first of two session we’re going to spend with the Dungeon Crawl Classics module Hole in the Sky. Four players joined me in this level 0 funnel with a total of 24 freshly generated characters (the maximum recommended for this module). Level 0 “funnels” are DCC’s way of vetting new characters for play - a lot of peasants go on an adventure, a fair share of them dies, and the rest level up and become regular characters in their own right in one of the seven classes (wizard, cleric, warrior, thief, elf, halfling, dwarf).

I chose Hole in the Sky because it is explicitly a funnel. Not so many are published by Goodman Games themselves, most of them in themed boxed sets. There’s one in the rulebook, and I’ve also run 3rd party funnels, but given that they fit only right at the start of a campaign there is a bit of a dearth of funnels to chose from still. (In comparison, characters spend several adventures in level 1 and the selection of level 1 adventures, both from Goodman Games and 3rd party, is much higher.)

One endearing fact, as always, is the retro artwork. Several illustrations, including the cover, feature peasants, even their pets and livestock. It’s simply funny seeing someone going on an adventure armed with a frying pan or bringing a goat along. Especially since the goat proves to be quite stubborn and bothersome...

Spoilers follow after the page break.

Hole in the Sky (HitS) did not impress me that much when reading. It is very linear and I got the impression that it features too many occasions where players cannot do much about the fate of their characters. As first impressions from reading go, I was actually wrong!

You see, the writing style of the author is a bit terse for my taste. He often mentions what happens when players make bad choices (make a Reflex save or die, for example). But when playing you realize there is absolutely no penalty for good choices. Players are perfectly capable of navigating the first part of the adventure without any harm, and so in fact they did! I was impressed because this what the OSR movement always claims - that it’s about playing smart, not having lots of powers. Well done, sir, well done.

The players are sent by a mysterious entity over an invisible bridge across the ocean to a hole in the sky. There they enter a pocket dimension, enter a strange hive-like structure, evade a monster hunting them, try to not wake a sleeping giant, battle mad former adventurers, and finally free the prisoner of the pocket dimension.

The bridge itself proved quite memorable. Players proved quite adept at making sure the bridge is there - all thanks to Indiana Jones 3. The perils of the bridge are not knowing if it’s there - which they undid with probing with a staff, throwing dirt, and by the virtue of all the animal droppings... Yes, players can start with a pet or livestock, something hilariously depicted on the map accompanying the outer world part! When storm winds threatened to blow PCs off, they tied themselves to each other - and the cow.

You see, not a single character died at this stage because it was about smart choices - as became clear during play. There’s also one combat on the bridge but I rolled so abysmally for initiative they made confetti out of the enemies without taking a scratch.

In fact, there is only one thing to criticize here: The intro (readout text) does not reveal how long the journey takes (3 days) or that the PCs have to wait 2 days once there. By sheer luck they brought roughly five days of provisions for the party. They tried quite a lot of weird things at the end of the bridge. I guess this was unnecessary tension and racking of player brains. Probably should not have run this as written...

All 24 PCs still accounted for and unharmed. They made their way through the hole into the pocket dimension and made their way to the prison. There’s potentially two random encounters along the way but the chance is low so nothing happened. A bit of waste of good monsters if you ask me. Still no casualties.

They entered the structure and as written in the script the guardian snuck up on them and killed one, then retreated. This spread terror and chaos alright. The group then decided to kill that thing. I could have played hit-and-run here but frankly did not want to. Also: 23 attacks of opportunity... The stats as written for this monster are... a bit bogus. The hit points don’t last that long with so many attackers. Also, for a creature of many tentacles a total of 2 attacks/action dice seems low. Given that I rolled two fumbles I was not very effective in culling the herd. This thing was supposed to follow them around, spreading terror. Since they refused to be terrorized they deflated this quite quickly with minimal losses. Oh well. Don’t get me wrong! This is great from a roleplaying and player perspective, but it does not do much “funneling...”

Anyway, the main battle against the mad adventurers I scaled from 12 (+1 leader) to 16 (+1 leader). There is advice that you should scale it, but either I missed it or it simply was not written what to scale it to. I mean, 1 per PC? Per 1.5 PCs? I went with my gut and the battle proved suspenseful enough and left a quarter of the party dead. It would have been more like a third to a half, but the “discovering the body” rule let all the luckier characters off the hook. Bigger opposition might have been a total party kill, so fair is fair.

The finale is yet to be played but they took the dwarf leading the mad adventurers as prisoner which should be quite interesting. Many DCC adventures suffer from having enormously cool backgrounds that the players don’t learn about in play. Here’s a chance for some exposition! The surrender is in the adventure and I count it as a plus.

What I like is that this is not a brainless meatgrinder. It is not so random. Sour Spring Hollow from DCC83 - The Chained Coffin is a very interesting, colorful funnel, but it involves a lot of random, arbitrary dying (and led to my first DCC total party kill). HitS compares favorable even though I personally think there are some questionable choices in its writing, especially the finale.

I have to admit that you do get spoiled by the high writing standard of DCC modules, though. In spite of its near-absolute linearity the module is indeed memorable. Since every room or waystation in DCC proves to have some depth and even potential for a discovery, player expectations of what a dungeon could be rise with every module played. Modules for other systems can compare quite unfavorably, in fact.

The session has been fun. Critical hit rolls excited players. My personal experience of “No fumble ever created an exciting or interesting situation.” persists. The players did quite well but also had Lady Luck on their side. I read in another review that funnels instill good habits in players, showing them that PCs can die. I beg to differ. I would personally say that funnels quite often play like a game of Paranoia! “I have six clones to burn so let’s take some risks.” is how I feel most players react to funnels. Sometimes interesting funnel characters emerge from the fact that players send them into danger over and over and rolling lucky. Nebin Pendlebrook's Perilous Pantry is the best funnel in this regard as a lot of fun stuff can be gained or done by doing this.

The horrible truth is much likelier to emerge if funnel habits get your level 1 PCs killed or maimed. My long-running DCC campaign saw a continuous degradation of ability scores because players could not shake their habits of rushing into harm’s way. When switching to D&D5 later the unstructured, random style of approaching situations led to a character kill on pretty much the first combat. And at level 3 D&D5 is not that deadly... So, I think the claim that funnels instill good habits has not survived the facts of my own DCC experience.

However, funnels are fun! And so was this one, rewarding both player skill (though the Judge has to figure this out, it’s not exactly written) and providing memorable experiences. I like it. It’s not my favorite DCC published module to date, but it works and does the trick. A good entry point for new players. More to follow when we finish.

#dcc #dungeon crawl classics #rpg #pen and paper #osr

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