#the layout is so unpleasant. it WORKED before. STOP FUCKING CHANGING IT

[rabbit-exe]

OH GOD WHY DOES THIS WEBSITE LOOK LIKE THIS NOW

[baconpal]

pokemon rant time

this one’s about the 2 new things, and is at least slightly intended for people actually excited/interested in them, click keep reading or perish

Gonna try and keep stuff short cus there's a lot of topics this time and I've already gone off about how pokemon Isn't meant for me or meant to be a good video game anymore, but gamefreak is right back on their bullshit, so I feel I need to at least point it out.

I'd like to preface all this with, if you are a fan of pokemon still, please realize you can ask for more out of this series. Expect perfection, even if you don't think you'll get it anytime soon. Pokemon won't go anywhere, the old games won't go anywhere, and gaming is a hobby, not a necessity; don't accept low quality products from a company just because you feel like you're supposed to.

With this next wave of pokemon games, gamefreak is clearly testing how little they can put in to a $60 game while still keeping the 2 major audiences they've cultivated. By responding to the most obvious and vocal complaints from the community, gamefreak is aiming to make games that seems like what most players want, without having to put in the work on quality products.

GEN 4 REMAKES Pokemon BS (I am not calling this shit BDSP) is intended for the audience that put up with let's go and RS remakes. The most vocal and obvious complaints for these games is their failure as definitive versions of the games they are remakes of, such as missing features/content, or drastically changed story/dialogue/style. In a way, the recent remakes are inferior versions of incredibly old games, which shows a lack of improvement in pokemon as a whole.

To address these issues, BS is very, very, VERY clearly aiming for a more 1-to-1 recreation of the DS games, but with fully 3d graphics. Clearly the map layout has been transferred exactly, and gen 4 already had mostly 3d environments to begin with, and everyone knows about the future-proof pokemon models at this point, so the amount of effort required to create something like this is absolutely minimal. Assuming dialogue, trainer teams, move lists, etc. are also lifted directly from DP, then this game could be developed in basically no time at all, leaving the team time to ensure the product is of decent quality and includes ALL of the content of the originals, if not more, like the earlier pokemon remakes did to ensure they were truly definitive versions of the games. That being said, it is unlikely the team behind BS has been making use of this saved time to improve the game.

One failing already clear is that the quality is not very good, at least graphical quality. The footage we have shows environments lacking in color compared to the original, with messy, unpleasant textures that contrast poorly with the simplistic environments. The characters especially do not work. As cute and fun the fanart of tiny dawn has been, BS dawn and all other characters look awful. They have gorilla arms that reach down to the floor and lifeless faces, as well as incredibly stiff/simplistic animations. As it stands, BS is a visually inferior game to DP, though most consumers will simply see it as 3D>2D without any understanding of what an artstyle is, so this might not be a problem for many, but that doesn't mean you should accept it.

What remains to be seen is what content will be added/missing from pokemon BS. It is very possible that massive parts of the game, such as the underground, variety of online modes, postgame areas, and content from platinum could be missing entirely. We also do not know if pokemon from after gen 4 will be worked into the region, or even supported. Gen 8 still currently does not support a large number of pokemon, and the remakes may continue this limited dex trend.

Even assuming the remake includes everything from the DS games and doesn't add anything that slows down the story or harms the experience, it will still only be an exercise in forced obsolescence. The main reason people can't really play DP still is that the online isn't supported anymore. If BS turns out to be exactly the same as DP, then you're buying the same game for at a higher price, only to play it until the online service goes away again, or the next game comes out, if both don't happen at the same time.

Don't let yourself buy a 13 year old game at twice the original price.

GEN 4 NOT-REMAKE KIND OF NEW THING On to legends now, gamefreak is targeting the people who put up with sun/moon and sword/shield. The obvious problem with those games to most people was simply a lack of change from the standard pokemon formula. Even when changing the gyms to trials or stadiums, most people still understand that the format and story structures are mostly unchanged. Of course, this problem has seemingly been addressed by changing the game structure a fair bit, but almost entirely by removal.

Trainer battles, and by extension, gyms and tournaments/elite 4 have been confirmed to be absent, meaning all battles are only vs single pokemon, in spite of the player likely having a team of 6 pokemon. Even if battle difficulty is increased to compensate (doubtful), this will still drastically increase the simplicity of combat and make it even less likely for the game to include any meaningful challenge. Exploring towns and meeting NPCs is also seemingly missing, as the game is confirmed to have only a single village, which frankly looks incredibly boring and we've yet to see a single NPC inhabiting the village.

Battles now use an ATB format instead of a turn-based format (for those of you who don't know what that means, it basically means nothing, it's still turn based, it just means the speed state determines who gets more turns instead of who goes first, that's it), but beyond that there seems to be no noteworthy changes, pokemon learn 4 moves with limited PP, type advantage will still definitely be the most important aspect to battle, and the player being able to walk around during battle provides no meaningful impact. While the little dash the pokemon do to approach each other is cool, it is already a sign that gamefreak will not be addressing the issue of lacking animations for pokemon battles, as they can't even be assed to animate and program pokemon walking around the environment during combat, and lucario doing 1 kick for a move described as a series of punches isn't a great sign either.

On the topic of lacking animations, the new "pet simulator feature" for legends seems to be an advancement on the ride system from sun/moon, which presumably people missed from sword/shield. Being able to ride on your pokemon to do stuff sounds cool, but in all likelihood, this system will be limited to only a select few pokemon who will each do a select few actions, and is not a reasonable replacement for all the other pet raising features that have been removed in the past. Similar to BS, the total number of pokemon included may also be limited arbitrarily, in spite of the fact that no new pokemon need to be added, as these games are not claiming to be a new generation.

The largest issues I personally have with this new game is the horrible technical quality and gameplay quality shown in the initial trailer. Unfortunately, these types of problems seem to be difficult to explain to the average consumer, even though the issues seem incredibly obvious and inexcusable to people like me.  Most people were able to understand the problem with the berry trees in gen 8, because it was easy to explain, "this tree doesn't look like the other trees, and it sticks out, isn't that weird?", and so gamefreak has eliminated any immediately obvious issues like that, sticking with a very consistent artstyle for legends, making it almost impossible to easily explain its faults to the average pokemon fan.

People have been really quick to compare legends to BoTW; the game that invented grass, trees, and mountains. In spite of these comparisons, nobody seems to point out that legends looks dramatically worse than that almost 5 year old game from the previous generation. Plants are stiff and lacking in energy, draw distances are poor, colors are drab, and textures are messy. Many parts of legends seems to ape BoTW on just the surface, essentially just following market trends. Even the controls seem to follow after modern 3rd person shooters/stealth games, including a seemingly pointless roll and a clunky looking ball lobbing arc that feels unfun before even getting to play it myself.

The largest issue, painfully obvious to some, and impossible to explain to others, is the framerate. The trailer clearly was ran on actual switch hardware, and not prerendered, which would be a good mark for gamefreak if it didn't result in a trailer that never once hit 30fps. Even with empty fields, with only 1 or 2 characters on screen, the game was incapable of meeting the target speed, and had to resort to optimizations like reducing the frame rate of pokemon only inches away from the player to stop-motion levels of choppy. If situations with almost nothing going on result in slow-down, how will the game perform during actual gameplay? Even though slow-down is something everyone can feel, many people aren't capable of identifying it.

The major things to wait and see for legends is if the removed aspects of the series are made up for by some additional systems or content, and definitely wait to see if the performance improves. As with BS, preordering a game like this only shows that gamefreak only has to market the game by saying it's different, not improved, like they've been doing for years now.

TL;DR FUCK GAMEFREAK One major thing of note is that gamefreak is releasing 2 games based on gen 4 at the nearly the same time, meaning they have no obligation to design new pokemon or even include pokemon not from sinnoh, and also that the sales of each game can be used as an indicator for which of their 2 audiences is more loyal to them. Both BS and Legends are in a position to be pushes aside if they fail, but if either succeeds, gamefreak can continue in the direction of the more successful game and reap the benefits, without any need to innovate, improve, or adapt to criticism.

The last thing I feel I have to remind people about is that gamefreak is a company; you don't need to be "grateful" to them. I've seen that word thrown around far too much by people who seem to buy pokemon games like its a tax, and not something they want to do. You don't have to suck up to a company that made games you liked as a kid if the games aren't what you want anymore. Pokemon is so wildly successful that it can't possible die, so don't buy the games out of pity, or out of some feeling of obligation. Buy the video games you want to play and nothing more.

Basically, if you are considering getting any of these new games, please wait until the games are out before purchasing them, and decide for yourself if they are worth your money, and more importantly, your time. Preordering these games only lets gamefreak know their audience will buy and put up with anything. They have no real competition at the moment, so the only thing the audience can do to encourage improvement is show some of restraint.

[dothwrites]

Destiel, perhaps arranged marriage enemies to lovers tropes, with one or both thinking the other is dead and then REUNION. Bonus points for medieval au, mafia au, or no one actually says “I love you” until AFTER THE REUNION

---

I fiddled around with the prompt a little bit; hopefully this is what you wanted! also this has been in my inbox for forever and a day i’m such trash i’m sorry

---

Dean wakes to a hand clamped over his mouth and nose. He’s suffocating. 

His hand grabs under the pillow for his gun before he remembers: there are no weapons allowed in the Novak’s inner sanctum. At least, he’s not allowed weapons. He jerks against the hand but those fingers are pure steel, pushing down on his mouth and nose until the lack of air makes him dizzy. 

Cold eyes glint down at him. Dean’s brain, working at double-speed, easily places the face. 

Castiel Novak. 

When it comes to Castiel Novak, son of Michael Novak, there’s a whole host of emotions swirling in Dean’s chest. Some of them are good, some of them are murderous, and all of them roar up to the surface as he looks at Cas. 

Castiel isn’t supposed to enter his bedroom without express permission. It was one of the many rules hashed out when the exchange was made. For Castiel to break it means that he has some kind of death wish. Either that, or something’s very wrong. 

Judging from the grim look on Cas’ face, Dean’s willing to go with the second option.  

“What’s wrong?” He tries to ask, except Castiel’s hand is still over his mouth, so the words come out in a garbled wuss wruuung. Dean glares venom at Castiel and finally manages to yank Castiel’s hand away from his mouth (no small task, Castiel is like a brick wall). 

“You need to come with me,” Castiel says, his low, rough voice brooking no disagreement. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

If possible, Castiel’s expression hardens further. “Get out of bed and get dressed.” 

Furious, Dean starts to argue, but the soft click of a safety being removed stops him. Moonlight glints off the barrel of Castiel’s gun as he points it directly at Dean’s face. “I said,” Castiel orders, his voice smooth and deadly as poisoned silk, “get out of bed and get dressed.” 

Dean’s upper lip lifts in a snarl, but he does as ordered. For now, he’s forced into compliance, at least until he can come up with a plan. “You’re fucking dead, Novak,” he mutters, searching for his pants. 

Castiel says nothing, but keeps the gun trained on him until Dean is dressed down to his boots and jacket. “Pack a bag. Only take what you need.” 

Questions rise, but Dean voices none of them. He already knows it wouldn’t do him any good. Castiel’s not a chatty man at the best of times, less so when he has a gun in his hand. Dean turns to his closet, looking for his duffel back, left virtually untouched. He’s never unpacked since he moved into the Novak compound, too homesick and resentful to try making a new home out of this place. 

“You gonna kill me, Cas?” he asks, turning to face Castiel and holding his arms open in apparent surrender. 

“Come with me,” is all Castiel says, before he gestures with the gun towards the door. “Quietly. If you scream, it’s worth your life.” 

---

The kicker is, Dean thought that he and Castiel were actually...well...not friends exactly, but whatever came before friends. Allies. Maybe partners, if he was being optimistic. After all, it’s not like Castiel didn’t get equally screwed in the deal between John Winchester and Michael Novak. 

Everyone who wasn’t John Winchester or Michael Novak got screwed in the deal. It was simple: an exchange between the families, an eldest son for an eldest son. Dean Winchester went to the Novaks, while Gabriel Novak went to the Winchesters. The exchange was meant to keep peace between the two families, and usher in a new era of cooperation, or whatever bullshit they said to try and sell it. Dean’s brain had shut down around the same time his father told him he would be going to the Novaks. One look at his father told him that protesting would be for naught: he would be going to the Novaks, as helpless as a child bride, while an enemy would be coming to take his place. 

Dean had arrived at the Novak’s compound and been met by Castiel Novak. If he hadn’t hated the other man for everything he stood for, then he would have been impressed by the unruly dark hair, the luminous blue eyes, the chiseled jaw, all topping a taut, muscular body dressed in an impeccably tailored suit. But Castiel’s family had ripped him away from everything he’d known, taken him away from Sam, and put an imposter in his place. 

When Dean was dumped into an unfamiliar place, it was Castiel who was his guide. Castiel, who was about as thrilled at Dean’s presence in his house as Dean was, but who still tolerated his presence. Dean followed Castiel around, learning the layout of the mansion, but never coming close to the Novak’s secrets. Not that he expected to, but he still felt like he was falling down on the job, failing his family by not gathering every piece of information about an enemy that he could. Eventually, Castiel’s taciturn nature had softened, leading Dean to the apparently mistaken presumption that he and Castiel were on track to become partners. 

How wrong he’d been. 

---

Dean and Castiel walk through familiar halls to an unfamiliar staircase. The gun pointed at his back keeps their pace fairly brisk. Dean keeps searching for some kind of weapon, only to come up empty. He would try to rush Castiel and take the gun, but he’s sparred against Cas a few times. Though it’s a hit to his pride to admit, he’s not entirely sure he could beat Castiel in a fight, even if the qualifier of the gun weren’t an issue. 

“If you’re going to kill me, don’t you want an audience?” Dean’s steps echo on the steps, Castiel following close behind. “Got the definite impression most of you Novaks would be only too happy to see my brains blown out.” 

Dean Winchester is not known for making friends. 

“Hurry up,” is all Castiel says in reply, as he leads Dean to a door almost hidden in the dark paneling of the room. Dean’s never seen this part of the Novak mansion, and he hesitates to think of what’s behind that door--torture chambers? Whatever it is, it’s likely to be unpleasant. 

Still, it’s not like he has a choice in the matter, so he opens the door, and steps into...

“A garage?” Of all possible rooms, he wasn’t expecting this. Dozens of cars, antiques as well as the newest models of sport cars, sit gleaming in the dim light. “You want me to fix your engine?” 

“Do you ever shut up?” Castiel growls, but there’s more exasperation than true anger in the voice. “Come here, and hurry, we don’t have a lot of time.” 

For the first time, it occurs to Dean that he might not have a full grip on this situation. 

Castiel passes all of the cherries in the garage and leads him to a small, dumpy looking sedan. Dean wrinkles his nose in distaste (every car he compares to the Impala is ultimately found lacking, but this car is particularly offensive), even as Castiel presses a pair of keys and a thin slip of paper into his hand. 

“Take this car and go to that address. Everything’s been set up; you’ll have food and supplies for about six weeks. I assume you know enough to change cars as soon as you can so that one can’t be traced. You’ll have to dump your phone as soon as you can, preferably in a different place than you dump the car.” 

“Cas, what the hell are you talking about?” Dean’s been willing to go along with this for a while (guns are a good way of ensuring compliance), but here is where he draws the line. “You need to explain yourself right the fuck now.” 

Castiel clenches his jaw as thunder and lightning flicker in his eyes. Dean knows, from painful experience, that Castiel doesn’t enjoy having his will thwarted, but there’s no alternative. Castiel seems to assume that Dean will placidly comply with his whims, but Dean has never placidly complied with anything. 

“You’re in danger, but if you do what I say, then you’ll be in slightly less danger.” 

Cas pushes at Dean’s shoulder, but Dean whips his hand out, catching Cas’ wrist in his hand. “Gonna have to do a lot better than that, Cas,” he warns, squeezing just tightly enough to spark a hint of pain as the tiny bones grind together. 

Cas snarls with impatience before yanking his wrist out of Dean’s grip. “This whole agreement, the exchange...It’s all a setup. You, me, Gabriel, and Sam--we’re all pawns.” 

Dean blinks. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“In about twenty minutes, several members of the Novak family are going to storm your bedroom with the intent to kill you, while across town, the same thing is happening in Gabriel’s room. In the morning, the eldest son of the Winchesters and the eldest son of the Novaks will both be dead, under the roof of the family who was, up until a few weeks ago, their worst enemy.” A twisted, bitter smile plays at Castiel’s mouth. 

“They want to start a war,” Dean breathes, disbelief and horror warring within him. What Cas is saying sounds so ludicrous, and yet...What reason would Cas have to lie? 

Castiel’s face is grim as he nods. “The Novaks blame the Winchesters, the Winchesters blame the Novaks, and then, just to complicate matters, Lucifer will also claim responsibility.” 

“Why?” 

Castiel shrugs, arms thrown wide in helplessness. “To sow chaos? Power? The city’s three most powerful families caught in a war? Whoever survives, whoever’s alive at the end...That family will have everything. They’ll own everything.” 

“And that’s worth the risk?” 

Castiel shrugs, a helpless little edge in the gesture. “If you think you’ll win, then I suppose so. The problem is, all three think they can win.” 

Castiel’s eyes are dark as something complicated swirls behind them. Absurdly, Dean’s heart lurches forward. For a second, he wants--But then he forces himself to pull back. “And running away will help?”

“It’s the best plan I could come up with on short notice,” Castiel snaps. “You need to get to the safe house now.” 

“Wait,” Dean breathes, as the pieces finally start to click. “You said...the assholes that are coming to kill me...They’re coming to my house...” Rage lights in him and Dean surges forward. Heedless of the gun in Castiel’s hand, he wraps his fingers around the other man’s throat. “You son of a bitch, my brother is there!” 

He squeezes, sick satisfaction curling in him as he watches a red flush spread to Castiel’s cheeks. He only has a moment to savor the feeling before Castiel shoves him away. 

“Asshole,” he coughs. His eyes water but he never blinks as he stares at Dean. “My brother’s in that house too. You think I’d let him get killed?” His upper lip curls, whether in anger or disdain, Dean doesn’t know. “Gabriel and Sam are headed to the same safe house that you are.” 

“And you? Where are you going?” 

Castiel fixes his gaze on a point beyond Dean’s shoulder. “We can’t all disappear. Someone has to stay.” 

Furious for reasons he can’t comprehend, Dean snaps, “And that someone has to be you?” 

Castiel clenches his jaw around his words. “It’s bad enough that you, Gabriel, and Sam are all going to disappear on the same night. You’re going to have the Winchesters, the Novaks, and Lucifer all on your trail. But if I stay, then I can try to cover you for as long as I can.” 

“Or you could get yourself killed!” Dean drags his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t know why the thought of Cas getting hurt sits so sour in his stomach, but it does, to the point where he thinks he might vomit if he thinks about it too long. “Your family isn’t stupid. They’re going to see me gone, and they’re going to connect the dots pretty damn quickly!” 

“I can make it look like you overpowered me. I can take care of myself.” Cas glares. “And none of this is going to matter if you don’t get the hell out of here.” 

“I’m not leaving without you.” Dean plants his feet.  

Dean’s ready for Cas to throw a punch or shove a gun in his face. But he’s not ready for Cas to lunge forward, face like a tempest, and drag him close with one hand twisted in his hair. He’s not ready for Cas’ lips to crash into his, he’s not ready for a swirl of lust and want and affection to hit him with the force of a truck. 

For a few blessed seconds, he and Cas are the only people in the world. Dean’s world narrows to Cas’ lips, Cas’ touch, Cas’ body pressed against him. Dean’s mouth opens under the onslaught and Cas takes advantage, his tongue mapping the contours of Dean’s mouth with a thoroughness bordering on savagery. 

Dean could get lost in Cas, could go so far under that he never makes it back to the surface. He pulls himself away and tries to get rid of the feeling like he left something important behind. 

“Please,” Cas asks, his voice rough and wrecked. “Please go.” He forces a sickly smile. “Once the heat dies down, I’ll join you. I promise.” 

Over the course of his life, Dean’s become quite the accomplished liar. He thought Cas be the same, but the man folds like a bad hand of cards. Grief rips through Dean as Cas pushes him towards the car. 

“If you don’t come--” Dean starts, only to be cut off by Cas’ lips pressed into his. He pulls away, much as it hurts, and holds Cas’ chin in a harsh grip. “If you don’t show up, then we’re coming for you, and that’s going to cause a damn big ruckus, so you’d better show up.” 

“Of course.” Cas’ mouth might say one thing, but his sad eyes say another. “Please, you’re running out of time. Please Dean, please go.” 

Dean throws his duffel into the backseat and turns back to Cas. This time, they move as one, their hands grappling through hair and clothes, mouths and teeth clacking in an awkward tangle of need and want. “You’d better fucking show up,” Dean hisses, nipping at Cas’ lower lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“Go,” Cas pleas. 

Cas pulls Dean’s hand away from him. His touch is so deft and sure that Dean doesn’t realize he’s been given the gun until Cas wraps his fingers around the barrel. He looks between it and Cas, confusion and fear clashing within him. 

“You have to make this look real.” 

Dean looks down at the gun again. “I’m not going to shoot you!” 

A quick smile flashes across Cas’ face, sweet enough to break Dean’s heart. “Please don’t. But if you want to help me sell this thing, then you have to make it look like we had a struggle.” 

Cas’ eyes are steady as he looks at Dean, and the gun is a solid weight in his hand. Dean’s stomach clenches as he lifts the gun. “Do it,” Cas whispers, and he might think that helps, but it just sends another jolt of guilt straight through him. 

Dean looks past Cas’ shoulder as he hefts the gun. He brings it crashing against Cas’ temple in one quick, harsh blow. The sound of impact churns his stomach and he can’t help but moan as Cas crashes down to his knees. Blood trickles from underneath his hairline, tracing a thin path down his cheek. 

Castiel Novak is a tough son of a bitch. 

Dean hit him, full strength, with the intention of putting him down. Cas isn’t fighting against him, Cas wants to go down. And yet, the part of Cas that claws to survival with a tenacious, desperate grip, is still clinging onto consciousness. 

Make it real, Cas said, knowing that being knocked unconscious was the only way he could ever hope to sell the subterfuge of Dean’s escape. 

Dean owes Cas not only his life, but Sam’s life as well. If there’s anything he can do for Cas, even if it tears him apart, he has to try. 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, just before he slams the butt of the gun into Cas’ head. 

With a sick, wet sound, Cas hits the ground and doesn’t get up. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Dean turns Cas onto his side, careful not to jostle him too much. The thin trickle of blood has become a stream which covers the side of his face in crimson. Dean’s heart catches in his chest at the sight, and he doesn’t relax until his shaking fingers press against Cas’ jaw to find his pulse. It’s a little thready, but still steady. 

Reluctantly, Dean pulls away. He wants to take the time to lay Cas out and make him comfortable. It feels wrong, leaving Cas unconscious on the cold, dirty floor, but it would look suspicious if Cas was arranged neatly. Cas is trusting him to do this right; Cas is trusting Dean to take care of him. 

Dean swings himself into the car and starts the engine. The garage door opens and freedom beckons by way of the open road. Down that road is Sam and safety. Dean knows he needs to follow that path. He needs to take care of Sam. 

But he still can’t help looking back in the rearview, heart twisting in his chest at the sight of Cas’ crumpled figure. 

--

part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi

NOW COMPLETE

[slashhinginghasher]

Midnight Star - Chromeskull x OFC - Part 8: The Greater of Three Evils

wow another chapter six months later. much shock. so surprise

Big TW for NONCON at the end of this chapter. Please read with caution.

This work is on Ao3!

Summary: Worst first date ever.

***

Her reward was a bedroom and a fat, juicy orange the size of both her fists. The orange came first; Cromeans produced it from some hidden jacket pocket and placed it in her lap with exaggerated delicacy. For a half-second, she was afraid he’d leave her there to stare uselessly at the piece of fruit until she caved and asked him to free her hands - or worse, to fucking feed her - but he unlocked her left wrist and… left.

Every instinct told her to rip into the orange before it could be taken away, but she forced herself to go slow. Having gone down the starvation route more times than a person should, she knew that stuffing her face would just lead to everything coming back up a few minutes later. She removed the peel in small, methodical pieces while her stomach growled at her like a rabid dog. Then she neatly sectioned one wedge from its neighbors and, self-control over, shoved the whole thing in her mouth. It was a good thing she was alone because she really didn’t want to cry in front of any of these bastards, but fuck, it was a good orange.

And then the brunette woman named Spann had to ruin it by walking in with another entourage of black-clad assholes. The tension that had marginally left Marena’s shoulders came back full force. Spann smiled at her again. Marena was really starting to hate that smile. It was indulgent and slightly condescending, the sort of subtle smugness that came from a person who knew they had damn well earned the right to be smug.

“You aren’t going to do anything stupid, are you?” Spann asked in a pleasant voice that suggested that she knew the correct answer, and that it would be better for Marena’s structural integrity if she also knew the correct answer. Marena was sorely tempted to spit a mouthful of half-chewed pulp in the other woman’s face, but that would have definitely fallen under the category of “stupid”, and besides, it was a really good orange. Instead, she silently held the brunette’s gaze, blank-faced, unmoving, unblinking, which she had been told by multiple people was “really fucking creepy.”

“Good,” Spann said, like she was praising a child. She nodded to one of the assholes who, to Marena’s credit, looking mildly terrified as he unlocked the other cuff. Marena jerked the newly freed hand into her lap just to watch him flinch at the sharp movement, because she was also kind of an asshole.

“Can you walk?” There was a solid chance that the answer to that question was “no”, but like fuck was Marena going to tell any of them that. She pushed back the sheets, noting with distaste that the sluttish excuse for a nightgown she’d been dressed in didn’t even hit mid-thigh, and carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed. The tile floor was cold against her bare, blistered feet, which was about the only thing that felt good at the moment. The motion had sent her head into a throbbing, nauseated whirl. Her weakened muscles burned and cramped. But she’d done a lot more with a lot worse, so she told her body to shut the hell up and pushed herself fully upright. Her right leg buckled slightly, and she leaned her hip against the railing of the bed like she’d meant to do that all along. Spann wasn’t fooled, but she played along.

“Follow me, then.”

Marena wanted to put up a fight. She wanted to be difficult, and violent, and savage. But she was tired. She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know what was going to happen to her, although it was probably going to be very unpleasant. And she had talked. A lot. There was a deep, dull ache in each of her shoulders and she could feel the memories hovering around her, waiting for her to fall asleep so they could dive in and eat what was left of her from the inside out. She shouldn’t have caved. She should have let him rape and torture her until she died, and taken all her shitty secrets with her to the grave.

There was also the pride-rankling fact that Mr. Cromeans had gotten more out of her in a matter of days than a trained therapist had in more than two years. Maybe if they taught psychiatrists how to throw a punch, they’d be more effective.

They reached the bedroom by elevator because apparently her captor was the kind of jackass to have an elevator in his fucking house. Spann didn’t say another word, a small blessing since Marena didn’t think she could handle any conversational attempts without making something bleed. Her legs gave out moments after Spann and the Faceless Muscle Squad shut the door behind her. She pressed her face into the carpet (very plush, very soft) and allowed herself to give in to the absolute, soul-obliterating panic for a count of ten. Then she forced herself upright and took stock.

The room was small (by rich people standards) and sparsely furnished (by rich people standards). The carpet was black, the walls painted deep red like a cheesy vampire movie. The bed, dresser, and wardrobe were all carved out of dark wood and were too heavy for Marena to move, especially in her current physical condition of suck. The single window was made of thick, possibly bulletproof, glass, and seemed unopenable. A peek through the slats of the blinds offered a view of a large interior courtyard and a sunset-painted sky. Even if she could get the window open, there would be no escape that way. 

She didn’t bother looking for cameras. She knew they’d be there.

The attached bathroom was almost as big as the main room, with white marble floors shot through with gold. The bathtub and shower were huge, big enough for three people. Or one normal-sized person and one freakishly large person, but if she thought about that for too long she’d start spiralling. At least a dozen different hair products sat in the metal shower caddy, most of which Marena had no idea what to do with, and she’d bet Cromeans didn’t either, since he was fucking bald. Maybe he’d had someone (Spann?) buy them, or maybe they were leftover from the mysterious Veronica that Preston had so obviously wanted to taunt her with. It didn’t take a genius to guess that the woman was most likely dead.

Lucky bitch.

A huge mirror was set into the wall above the bathroom sink, but she didn’t walk far enough forward for it to catch her reflection. Marena avoided mirrors as a general rule; she’d covered the one in her shithole apartment with an old bedsheet. Seeing her face tended to fuck her up on a good day, and in her current state… it might break her, and she couldn’t afford to break right now. She returned to the main room and faced the wardrobe with the trepidation of someone about to open a box that might or might not contain a dead body. The wooden doors mocked her as she stood there, clenching and flexing her fingers. She took a deep breath that wasn’t remotely fortifying and threw them open.

Lace. Lace and tulle and silk because men, rich men, were so fucking predictable it was disgusting. Her gaze caught on a baby blue dress and she slammed the doors shut, staggering backwards until she hit the bed, and then the ground. She couldn’t even look in the direction of the dresser, although she had a fairly good idea of what it contained and it made her want to rip all those pretty dresses to ribbons and hang herself with them. The pain in her shoulders was radiating down her arms and across her back, but she couldn’t rub the ache away without feeling the ghost of the House Master’s touch as he did up the buttons of her dress after Hana changed out the bandages, his perfect pretty little kukolka, and he did always love her in blue... She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, she wanted Hana back, and the grief was so heavy it was crushing her, like so much dirt over a grave.

Marena curled in on herself and tried not to fall apart.

***

Her well-deserved panic attack was interrupted sometime later when the door unlocked with an electronic whir and a heavy click. She pressed her back against the wall, waiting for someone - something - to come through, but the door remained shut. Second after excruciating second crept by with no sign of movement. Marena remained huddled on the floor, fists clenched, jaw clenched, hackles up like a dog ready to lunge.

Seconds turned to minutes, and she got bored.

So much of Marena’s life had been spent in a state of torturous waiting. Waiting for Guests to arrive or leave. Waiting for the villagers to let her out of the river. Waiting for the beatings to stop. Waiting for the various devils in her life to fall asleep so she could slip away for a single moment of solitude. She was tired of waiting, and as much as she didn’t want to face whatever hell was about to be inflicted on her, she could not stand to spend one more moment suspended in this agony of uncertainty.

Pushing herself to her feet, she inched her way to the door, preparing to kick in the fucking kneecaps of whoever was on the other side. But there was only an empty corridor and a piece of paper on the floor.

Fourth door on the right.

The obvious choice was to go to the left, then, where a break in the wall indicated a stairway or another hallway. Or was it obvious? Maybe Cromeans was trying to lure her in that direction by giving her orders to do the opposite, expecting her to disobey. So then the thing to do would be to go to the right, to avoid whatever was on the left. Although that didn’t mean that the right was safe.  Perhaps Cromeans was so supremely confident in her inability to escape that he just expected she’d end up where she was told. She didn’t know the layout of the house, and if the car had been any indication, her captor was a technophile. That meant cameras, alarm systems, remote locks, maybe even booby traps. Was that something people did outside of movies? Okay. So assuming both directions were bad news, why leave any options open? Why not send an escort? Perhaps it came down to obedience. Disobey and you get punished; obey and you deserve whatever happens to you because you went willingly?

Fuck. She hated mind games. She barely had a grasp on what happened in her own head, let alone somebody else’s.

She could always remove herself from the situation completely. Lie down in that nice, big bathtub and take a few deep breaths until everything went watery and dark. Marena’s will to live was driven by spite more than anything else, but it was - save for one or two notable exceptions - iron-clad and unshakeable. She wasn’t afraid to die, but was she ready to make that final surrender?

It was the cameras that decided it for her, in the end. They were well-hidden in the room, but she could see a few small, red lights blinking in the gloom of the hallway. Cromeans was probably watching her right now, and if he really was just a few doors down, then he’d have plenty of time to foil a suicide attempt. And plenty of motivation to rain unholy hell down upon her when she woke. Men like him didn’t like it when their toys were taken away prematurely. Trying to rob him of the pleasure of orchestrating her death would end up very, very ugly. For her.

You don’t get to kill what is mine.

Marena shuddered and instinctively wrapped an arm around her midriff as she pushed the memory away. She was already going to have nightmares about bullets and pearl-handled guns the next time she slept; she didn’t need to add her nasty little suicide attempt to the queue. Of course, it was perfectly plausible that she would die before she got a chance to sleep again, or that Cromeans had something planned that would eclipse either of those in its awfulness. She ripped the note to shreds, trying to find some sense of control in the tiny act of destruction, and headed for the fourth door on the right.

It was some sort of lounge, all dark earth tones and metal accents. The center of the room was dominated by a dark, heavy slab of a wooden table that could easily seat twenty people. There was a lit fireplace to her right (which had to be fake, because who in the fuck could ever feel cold here?), heavy drapes blocking the far wall, something that looked like a home bar, and honestly, all of the details of this god-awful hell house were starting to blur together and she just couldn’t bring herself to give a shit about interior decorating.

A hand shot out from her periphery, slapping another pair of metal handcuffs on her wrists before she could even twitch, and the only coherent thought her overworked brain could produce was “Was he hiding behind the fucking door?”

Cromeans looked terribly pleased with himself as he ushered her towards a seat at the table. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt that made it very apparent that yes, his biceps were bigger than her goddamn thighs, which was just fucking excessive, honestly. Heavy metal was playing in the background, a looping, ever-shifting soundscape of electric guitar, drums, and male aggression. Marena was normally quite partial to the genre, but a headache was building behind her eyes, and all this “friendly” buildup made her sure that whatever was going to happen to her tonight would be that much worse.

In a testament to how absolutely out of it she was, she didn’t notice the food on the table until she was seated right in front of it. Meat, greens, bread, wine. More of those heavenly oranges. She ate mechanically, ignoring the wine, refusing to look up at Cromeans where he sat on the other side of the table. It all tasted like glue and stuck in her throat the same way. If they were two normal people on a regular date, it would have been the most awkward first date in history. They barely qualified as people, though, let alone normal, and Marena could only wish Cromeans was feeling even a little uncomfortable. Smug fucker was probably having the time of his life.

Her steak knife sat heavy and tempting in her hand, but there wasn’t much she could do with it. The chain between her wrists was about 18 inches long, enough for her to eat without much trouble, but too short to throw a knife or a punch without an obvious and awkward windup. If Cromeans wasn’t such a stupidly big man, she’d try to choke him out with the chain. But she would need a damn ladder to reach around his neck while he was standing, and she doubted she’d be able to get behind him while he was sitting.

Cromeans stood and smirked as Marena clumsily pushed to her feet after him, desperate to close the height gap between them even slightly. He sauntered over to the bar, holding up two empty glasses and quirking a brow in question. Marena nodded. He turned his back to her and started fiddling with bottles and shakers and… cocktail things. She snatched up the steak knife and crept towards him, drawing on every bit of stealth she’d honed while hunting and hiding as a child. He knew she was weak right now, unlikely to try or succeed at any sort of physical attack. His hands would be full with both glasses, slowing his reaction time by a crucial fraction of a second. His right side was a blind spot. She would sneak up behind him and stab him in the throat when he turned around, and hopefully he wouldn’t be able to snap her neck before he bled out.

She drew as close as she dared. Stilled her breath. Stilled the knife, both hands wrapped white-knuckle tight around the handle. He turned. She lunged. Glass shattered. Her arms weren’t moving.

He caught it.

He caught the fucking knife.

Oh. BLYAT’.

If she thought the look on his face after kicking him in the balls was scary, it had nothing on the way he was looking at her now. Blood trickled between his fingers as he tightened his grip on the blade before wrenching it out of Marena’s grasp and tossing it aside.

There was a flash of silver. Moving purely on instinct, Marena threw her hands up, stopping the other, bigger knife he’d pulled from somewhere with the chain of her cuffs. Her arms shook with strain, the cuffs biting into the tender skin of her wrists. With a deft motion, Cromeans twisted the knife, wrapping the chain around its serrated blade until Marena’s hands were pressed together, all slack gone. Using the knife as a handle, he forced her backwards, step by step, until she was pressed against the table. Dishes were sent crashing to the floor with a mighty sweep of his arm, and then she was laid out on the table’s surface. Cromeans stabbed the knife into the dark wood, then yanked her back towards him until her arms were stretched above her head and her hips were at the edge of the table.

Panic opened like a yawning abyss in her chest, the sheer scope of her terror threatening to swallow her whole when Cromeans produced another knife and brought down near the scar on one of her shoulders. But he didn’t stab it into the old bullet wound the way she’d expected. Instead, he sliced through the straps of her silk shift and pulled the fabric down with a vicious tug that left her completely bare to his gaze, which was fast shifting from rage to pure, undiluted lust. He devoured her, drinking in the sight of her naked body like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. She wanted to say as much, but fear - and habit - had her voice in a vice grip.

He forced her legs open and stepped between her thighs as he dragged his hands over her hips, his injured hand leaving smears of blood in its wake. The table was tall enough that Marena’s toes barely brushed the ground; she had no leverage with which to kick him or push herself away. She flinched at the first touch of his hand between her legs, hating herself for reacting but unable to stop it. The first brush of his thumb over her clit was feather-light. The second was firmer and dragged a bone-deep shudder from her. With the exception of an asshole cop who got a little too handsy while frisking her, Marena hadn’t had any prolonged human contact in four years, and her touch-starved body didn’t know whether to pull away or lean into the pleasure. The result was an ineffectual jerk that did nothing but bring an infuriating smirk to Cromeans’ face.

And the knife moved, just a little.

Marena took a deep, shuddering breath, followed by an equally shaky exhale, shifting her hips slightly as though in surrender. Cromeans was tracing tingling patterns around her slit, drawing enough moisture that he could almost slip a finger inside. When she was certain his attention was fixed entirely on her cunt, she wrapped her fingers around the knife and began to work it free. The serrated edges of the blade cut into her fingertips immediately, hot sparkles of pain shooting down her fingers. She ignored it, just as she ignored the inexorable dance of the fingers between her legs and the building heat in her core. She just had to get the knife free, and then this nightmare would be over, one way or another.

So close, so close, so close…

Cromeans’ fist slammed down on the hilt of the knife, forcing it several inches deeper into the wood, and buried his cock in her at the same moment. Marena nearly bit through her tongue at the sudden painful stretch. She couldn’t breathe; he was in her and around her and god why did every fucking part of him have to be so big? He didn’t give her time to adjust before starting a brutal pace, long, hard strokes that stole her breath and dragged against every nerve ending in her pussy. One huge hand was splayed across her abdomen; Marena thought he must be able to feel himself moving inside her through her stomach. The other wrapped around her throat, tight enough to choke but not enough to let her black out.

She tried in vain to disconnect, to retreat behind the walls she’d spent so many years building in her mind. But Cromeans had added a twist to his hips that brushed against a spot inside her and made her see stars. The jolts of pleasure pulled her back to herself, made it impossible to divorce her mind from her body. Something hot and wonderful and terrible was building inside her. She wanted it to stop. She was being smothered and she wanted everything to stop.

Cromeans reached down to circle her clit once more, and the tension snapped. The orgasm rushed over her like a wildfire. A tsunami. A supernova. Marena was dimly aware of the way her back arched as her inner muscles clenched around Cromeans’ hard length. A strangled, keening gasp that escaped her throat just before he tightened his grip enough to completely cut off her air, pelvis grinding against hers as he chased his own release. Each stuttering thrust sent aftershocks of pleasure-pain skittering through her body. Her vision was starting to tunnel when he bottomed out for the final time and came with a growl that she felt more than heard.

He remained seated inside her for a long minute, breathing hard and supporting himself on one forearm. The hand around her throat eased from a choking grip to soothing strokes, like he could wipe away the lurid bruises already forming with a gentle enough touch. At last, he pulled out and tucked himself away. He wrenched the knife out of the table and pulled Marena into a sitting position. Her body was quivering, boneless; she doubted she’d have been able to sit up on her own. Cromeans pressed a chaste, lingering kiss to her mouth as he unlocked the cuffs. Then he ran two fingers through the mess of cum and blood coating her inner thighs and licked the digits clean with a wink.

He turned his back and poured himself another drink.

***

Marena didn’t remember leaving the lounge. Didn’t remember staggering down the hall. She had no idea how long she’d been standing in the doorway of her bathroom, swaying slightly and staring blankly at the wall. The stickiness between her thighs had mostly dried, smears of pale pink that matched the tender places where the denim of Cromeans’ pants had rubbed her skin raw. Her hands and wrists were covered in drying blood, fresh rivulets still seeping from the angry marks left by the cuffs.

She raised a shaking hand to her mouth, feeling the ghost of his scarred lips on hers, and her guts knotted violently. She lurched forward, dropping to her knees in front of the toilet just in time to vomit up everything she’d ever eaten in her life. Then she turned on the shower as cold as it would go and stood under the freezing spray until her lips turned blue.

[metalempire]

Fire Emblem Three Houses Review: A Great Game Crippled By Squandered Potential

Now that the clickbait title has grabbed ur dick and engaged the hate boner it’s time to sit down and take a look at the newly released Fire Emblem game everyone loves (including me, to an extent, despite what the title says.) 

I’ll put the whole thing under a readmore to safeguard from spoilers, save dashboards and for anyone who doesn’t give a shit to just stop reading now at a convenient point. As for mobile users, fuck you, I’m a phone hating old man. Read this on an Apple Refrigerator or die.

The TL:DR version is: Game good overall, but not enough variety and near lazy repetition makes both gameplay and story feel a bit disappointing overall once you play all the routes. 

Also you can’t fuck Rodrigue so 0/10 worst game in the series. 

Right now I’ll address the good points about the game since I do in fact have heaps of praises to sing it’s just easier to clickbait with negativity of which I do have but the positive bits come first cos I said so. 

The gameplay is good Fire Emblem, unlike SoV which was ass don’t @ me, as the kids say. Aside from fog of war and a very occasional desert map there’s not too much unpleasant shit and there’s not really any spam which is great since the past few games were getting guilty of that. The maps are a bit plain in layout but they’re not bad either and the enemy placements, choices, map features and terrain are all nicely put together to make a fairly pleasant experience with each one. There are no desert fort maps surrounded by 5 range archers on all sides. There are no cantors spamming infinite terrors or infinitely spawning faceless reinforcements. The weapon triangle might be absent but the breaker skills have been retooled and brought back to allow you to choose if you feel like opting into it or not on your own end. It allows alot of units and weapons to shine and combined with the class freedom the game gives to allow you the wiggle room to make your own playstyle, so if an entire army of Wyvern Lords if your thing then the game is nothing short of an enabler there. Combat Arts are back and nicely well balanced and feel more useful than in SoV, not to mention gambits being a natural expansion on them, Battalions being a positive this game brings to up the scale of warfare rather than it just being Anime Teens VS The World and adds another combat art not tied to a weapon and nice stat boosts and effects to change how you interact with enemies, such as using Assembly to drag a boss off a heal tile, and so forth. The more options the better, and the game is full of freedoms for you to play around with. 

Garreg Mach Monastery is where most of the game takes place and where a good chunk of hours are spent. Being able to train weapon and movement type ranks outside of battle is also great and adds more micromanaging onto a series about alot of micromanaging and helps units keep up with each other, as well as letting you farm your own resources, bond with the gang and do little activities to give you some reprieve between fights. You can tell Koei Tecmo did alot of work on the development of Three Houses since this section of the game reminds me of Dynasty Warriors when you go back to your base and sort things out there and wander around. It also breathes some life into the setting and gives a good sense of permanence to the world and its’ characters. 

The world of Fodlan is also a major strong point, there’s lore, backstory, history, politics, a culture and even clashes and divides. It’s the most well realised world in a Fire Emblem game since Jugdral which it clearly has drawn inspiration from and I cannot praise Fodlan enough for being as well realised as a setting as it is, since the characters and exposition really give you a proper impression of how this world functions on social and political levels. The school setting of Garreg Mach is one I was initially iffy about but it fits surprisingly well and definitely grows on you over time since the game does a good job of immersing you in the role of a teacher. 

Tying into the world is also Crests, which, when combined with the Ability system, is great, making you pay attention to your characters crests, what they do, how they can benefit you, how you could use them, and to pay attention to enemy bosses and minibosses to see what crests they have, and in turn, pay attention to abilities some more too, to both create your ideal units, and keep an eye out for the same on the enemy team. It’s quite well balanced overall and is a sneaky hint of a possible Genealogy remake on the way someday.

The characters are also wonderful, often three dimensional with their own political views, own social perspectives, quirks, oddities, backstories, character conflicts, relationships, and of course, boatloads of trauma. Watching them all interact with each other and reacting to the story events and getting to know them was an excellent experience in proper character writing and interactions that the series has been starved of thanks to the very hit or miss (mostly miss) characterisation from Fates. The main lords are also incredible, from Edelgard and her dark as fuck backstory and her powerful resolve and willingness to do whatever it takes to achieve her wider scale goals, to Dimitri and his intensely personal conflicts and emotional baggage and his journey of highs and lows, to Claude and his boundless charisma and similarly his own ambitions and dreams all wrapped together in a charming package. The characters are all great and I can’t really find myself with any grievances about them that don’t boil down to wanking off over nitpicks over Hubert’s left testicle being out of place in a cutscene or something daft like that. 

The soundtrack is good. Not my favourite one but as always with Fire Emblem it’s good and makes the maps more fun since you can listen to a nice tune while thinking about how to murk the pair of armour knights. My only gripe really is the normal versions of songs all sound better than the in-battle variations they get. I also like that a boss theme or miniboss theme will continue to keep playing on the map itself until you beat that character, so you dont have to dip and dive into chip damaging Lyon to hear The Prince’s Despair anymore. 

The overall story is fairly decent, not as bad as Fates’ writing, or the fairly bland writing of some of the past games like Awakening that play it too safe. It’s willing to go in dark directions and focus in worldbuilding with its’ plot. However I do have alot of negatives to say about it by contrast but know that the overall story of the game and its’ many routes is one that I don’t hate, but I certainly feel wasn’t as well handled, especially in the second part of the game, as it should be. On an individual level, each route is decently well paced, aside from Edelgard’s route which is mysteriously 4 chapters shorter than the rest for no discernable reason at present until developer interviews shed light on that. The plot is for the most part decently well executed on an individual level. 

Now I’m going to insert a very important opinion of mine. I think a game can have a bad story, or no story at all, and still be great, so long as the gameplay is good, because gameplay is what makes a video game a video game, rather than just a dvd with an interactive menu. A game can have a great story, but if the gameplay is shit, the game suffers as a result, and it needs to play its’ focuses very well in order to redeem that. I try not to put as much important on story if I can’t help it, since I’m playing games for the game part first and foremost.

I bring that up because unlike Fates, where you can ignore the plot and have a good time with it, Three Houses isn’t so merciful, due to how much raw time is spent in cutscenes before, during and after battles, as well as engaging with the story at the monastery too, alot of time in Three Houses is not spent in the gameplay portion, but interacting with the story instead, so I have to place importance on the story because the game is, so I have to put more focus than I usually do on it because the game does by necessity of raw amount of time. Otherwise I honestly wouldn’t mind either way if the story was bad or good. 

This is to transition over to the negatives. 

For the bits where I’m not tying the gameplay and story together for reasons seen in a bit, understand that I was wary about the removal of the weapon triangle. While I don’t mind how it’s been handled, I still think the game is missing something for not having it since the beginning, and it’s definitely a core aspect I enjoy about the series, since now you can forgo unit variety and planning weapon level ups and just use whatever to win, and that level of freedom can hamper strategy in thinking on a more necessity based level, which in turn has subtle but noticeable effects on difficulty. 

The amount of time you spend not doing maps is honestly still jarring. Most of the time in these games if you’re ever spending lots of time between maps, it’s usually to get through a mountain of supports you forgot about, rather than spending alot of your time in cutscenes and doing stuff in a monastery. While I don’t hate it, I find alot of my time is spent not doing the Fire Emblem parts of the Fire Emblem game I’m playing and considering the fact that each route is 18-22 chapters long, compared to most FE games which go more than that typically, and you come to realise that the other stuff is sort of padding to distract from the low chapter count overall.

Now this is where I tie gameplay and story together in terms of the more major flaws to the game and what really held it back for me. 

Three Houses has 4 routes, all of which I’ve played; Edelgard’s route, Dimitri’s route, Claude’s route, and the Church route. The big problem here in both story and gameplay is the raw amount of repetition and lack of variation the game has with this. Unlike Fates, where the three routes all featured both unique maps, variations on maps, or if they did share maps, usually put them at different stages in the game, Three Houses doesn’t do that at all. Map variety is something this game is weak in, since paralogues just reuse story maps, and so far, only 2 or 3 maps seem exclusive to paralogues, and even then can be repeated by other paralogues. Worse still, earlier paralogues, like Ingrid and Dorothea’s, can spoil maps later on, and don’t even make sense when you get the context for that location. In every other past FE game, the paralogues all got their own maps. Repeating maps in a single run is already a risky business, but then there’s overall repetition. The first part of the game is exactly the same on all routes, it follows the same story and overall beats, an the only variation is chapter 12, if you’re playing Edelgard’s route, if not, it’s the same for the other 3. And for context, I did Edelgard first, Dimitri second, Claude third and Church last. In hindsight, that was a terrible order, since I basically ended up repeating myself 3 times in a row thinking I was getting something different. When the timeskip hits you expect each route to get different, but only Edelgard’s does. the other 3 routes are all about fighting the Adrestian Empire to save Rhea. That’s it. Dimitri, Claude and the Church routes all follow the same story, and by extension, maps, making you do them all in the same order as each other, with a minor variation here or there like Dimiri getting a chapter to retake Fhirdiad then resuming the static map path. The only difference is in the plot contrivances that don’t come up on the other routes despite following the exact same events to steer you towards a different final boss. Those Who Slither In the Dark are a great example of this. They destroy Fort Merceus only in Claude’s route, and for no reason are barely involved in the fights of the other routes and are never dealt with. They themselves are also wasted villains, with Kronya and Solon shown off once, then killed off in their second appearances, then Thales barely being in the game only to die in Claude’s route. The game sort of forgets about them in the other routes, and, insultingly, they’re fought by Edlegard in her route, but only in the epilogue, rather than having her missing 4 chapters cover that conflict. 

Really, the only point to playing a route is to get a different final boss, and to get some different lore in the final chapter. You only learn about Nemesis right at the end of Claude’s route, you only learn Byleth’s origin story at the end of the Church route. Outside of things like that, you’re just playing the same game, same maps, and same story but with different playable characters over and over again with no real variety until right at the very end, which is highly hollow. Edelgard’s route offers the most variation on all this, and yet it’s 4 chapters shorter than the other routes, so you’re either condemned to play the same shit over again, or you barely get any time with the one that’s a bit different. It really sucks since the map variety really is nonexistent. You play the exact same game for 12 chapters, think you’re getting some variety, then just get the same shit as the last run, or, only get a few maps and then you’re done. Either way, the sheer lack of variety in maps and accompanying story really makes the hyped up timeskip feel like a colossal disappointment in hindsight, and when Fates, a 3DS game, has more map and story variety (yes even if that story was awful) than a home console game, then something is deeply flawed about this game.

The pacing is also fairly bad if not close to terrible. At most the game is 22-23 chapters at the most, 18 at the least, and it spends 12 of these on the Academy phase of the game. The game drags its’ feet with the story for the first half, slow burning its’ way along, feeding you hints of lore to come and setting things up and, to be honest, doing a good job at worldbuilding. Then the timeskip happens and the war phase just rushes by at one hell of a fast pace. The maps being the same across them doesn’t help, but pacing can also damage the routes. For example, Verdant Wind builds up to fighting the Agarthans, it builds up to them but only with hints and setup while you’re busy fighting Edelgard, and then once’s that’s done, you have two chapters left, one of which has you fight the Agarthans in one map, beat them, and then have the final battle with Nemesis, which, while the map itself is arguably the best of the 4 and really feels like a final battle, story-wise comes out of fuckin nowhere just to have a cool end to the game. And then there’s Crimson flower, which steamrolls through the game and is definitely missing chapters, with key events like the battle at Gronder just not being there at all. In general the story pacing is just too wonky and every route really needed more chapters to flesh out the conflicts rather than rushing along the most engaging bits of the game.

Also the graphics are kind of weird looking for a 2019 game and some of the cutscenes are animated so stiffly it’s strange to watch. Honestly the visual presentation in Fire Emblem has never really been very good outside of fully rendered cutscenes in previous games like Awakening or Radiant Dawn, but it’s a shame the Switch’s capabilities weren’t fully utilised, especially with some textures, although Warriors with its’ JPEG stone floor in Hoshido Castle is no doubt to blame as well for that influence. That said, it’s not all that big of an issue for this series, and you really don’t notice it as much, just felt the need to address it since it is there and the Switch launched with Breath of the Wild which looks wonderful and then there’s Three Houses looking like it just got out of bed by comparison.

My main issues with the game stem mostly from the larger segment above, the constant repetition of maps in almost perfect order after each other, the exact same story playing out for the majority of what should be different routes, and the school phase being the most repetitive as well really dragging the game down. The first time I played the game I loved it, no doubt, but the subsequent runs made me realise that alot less overall variety was put into the game than I thought would be, and that hurts the quality for me, to know that 3/4 options have me doing 95% the same thing but with different units, and the other option is just a bit too short to be able to fully enjoy what it has to offer. Fire Emblem is a bigger name now than it used to be, and Three Houses honestly deserved to be a bit better than this overall. 

Also you can’t fuck Felix’s dad so what’s even the point of it all, really. 

 I have no doubts though that people will still love this game, and rightfully so, it’s a great entry in the series, just not the best. I’m sure people who’ve only done one or two routes will think it’s fantastic, but once you do all four of them, I think the honeymoon period will pass by, and the initial spark of excitement of a new game will wear off, and just like how everyone tore into Fates a year after release, I think Three Houses might end up suffering a slightly similar fate as well once people realise that the game really doesn’t offer as much variety as it seemed to be offering. Maybe there are people who don’t mind all the repetition and the sameyness of it all, but for me, it held the game back from being truly great. The Lords are what really carry their respective routes, due to their character strengths, and a certain route definitely suffers for only having Byleth (and Seteth of all people) as the main driving force of that route. 

All that said, I really recommend any Fire Emblem fan or even any Switch owner to play Three Houses. It’s not perfect, and it certainly loses it’s magic over time and really needs some reworking in places and major injections of variety, or a really good DLC,  but it’s still definitely got plenty of good quality to enjoy and the bits that are good are really good and worth sticking through each route to be able to play with. 

The score this game gets is a

Forever Pissed I Can’t Marry Rodrigue/10

[khymer-vulture]

I know I said I was gonna post in two weeks, but this one turned out good...so...I caved

Set dangerously close before the main event of Captivate

The personal walls between Zack and Ray are crumbling little by little. Something the two have noticed during their time together, especially during times of support.

Things have been going much easier for Zack and Rachel, the authorities have given up their search for Ray, and the two have adapted quite well during their travels. Though, over time they felt like the current bond they had was changing, they couldn’t figure out why, but they both sensed that it was different somehow.

 Zack was acting extra impulsive than usual and the two have become a little more physical with their interactions without even realizing it. They just assumed they were at a level of comfort with their company to enter one’s personal bubble casually.

 During their travel, they made their way into a city, it proved to be a bustling area, which may be difficult for Zack to travel around in aside from using the back-alleys. Staying too long in a location like this would raise suspicions, normally their stay in places like these would last from one to two days. Smaller towns or cities granted enough time to stick around for longer.

 Zack chose to temporarily camp out in the alley for a bit until sundown, but he let Ray freely go as she pleased to scout the area they were in or pick up any provisions they were short on, their trust was so strong for one another that they knew neither one of them would wander off or leave each other behind. The man quietly stayed behind, keeping himself hidden away from the rest of the world, as he rested his feet during his wait for Ray’s return.

 He began to hear something shift among the debris that littered the back-alleys, it didn’t sound like it belonged to a curious person, and he was used to rats scampering about. Last thing he needed to deal with was fucking rats.

 To his relief, it wasn’t a rodent, but a cat – an ashen gray cat that has seen better days. It was covered in scars and its tail was crooked, but it acted like those aspects weren’t even there.

 The feline slowly made its way towards Zack, inching closer as it defensively lowered it body to take a sniff from a distance.

 “Fuck off, if you got some kind of fucking disease then take it elsewhere…mangy cat…” Zack growled.

 The man’s blunt words didn’t faze the cat, it continued to inspect Zack, then gently rubbed its cheek against his boot. Isaac cocked a brow as he watched the tattered feline continue to rub against his boot, then utter out a meow as it walked closer to him.

 Zack’s never really been around animals, well, ones that weren’t terrified or vicious towards him. He didn’t know how to act around the curious creature, but then he began to recall a memory, one where he was silently watching Ray tend to a small injured bird on his floor. Ray had a soft demeanor towards the small bird, spoke to it softly and gently touched the creature’s body, all before Zack brutally put an end to it.

 The gruff man bit at his lip as he remembered that part, then glanced at the cat, he could hear it purr as it stared up at him, Isaac sighed as he brought a hand out, preferring to let the scarred animal make the first move. The cat sniffed at Zack’s hand for a moment before propelling itself upwards to bump its head against his palm, the man was startled for a moment, then lowered his hand a little more to let his fingers run through the cat’s fur.

 So, this what being near a passive animal was like, now he could see why Ray had such a tender smile on his floor, it was oddly comforting, almost like the comfort he felt when he would play with Rachel’s hair. That thought made him pause as he felt his cheeks grow hot.

 Rachel had finally returned to the back-alley Zack was waiting in, she did have a small bag of food and drinks for him, as a reward for being patient. She also was ready to tell him the layout of the city so they could make their move for some sort of shelter once the sun was down. Ray was caught off guard to see the man with a cat laying comfortably on his lap as he lazily stroked its fur, the feline just purred away as its paws would stretch and contract from one paw to the other.

 “I never expected you to make a friend,” she said, she was clearly holding back an amused chuckle.

 Zack almost jumped from her voice, then glanced up a Ray, he could see the grin that she tried to cover up and huffed to himself.

 “F-friend nothing…it’s just pity…fuck,” Zack growled, “he approached me…so, whatever.”

 Ray let loose a giggle as she sat herself down next to Zack, the cat picked its head up as it sniffed at the new person in the area.

 “He is friendly, right?”

 “Fuck if I know…he just did his own thing,” Zack grumbled. “I just stuck my hand out and he was pretty cool with it…”

 Rachel decided to take Zack’s word and carefully brought her hand out, the feline touched her fingertips with its cold and scarred nose before rubbing its head against them. For a stray, the cat was rather friendly towards other humans. Zack could see that familiar soft smile he once saw before as Ray lead the cat to her lap, letting it curl up and get comfortable. That smile made his insides feel like they were about to twist into knots, it wasn’t an unpleasant kind of twist, but it was damn confusing.

 Ray gently rubbed the cat’s ears, feeling it purr loudly against her as she had a warm emotion grow inside her. There was another emotion hidden deep as well, a frightening one that she tries to hide. Even though the cat was sweet and affectionate, it did have its flaws, and she had that old compulsive feeling to “fix it”.

 Zack stared at Ray for a moment, then saw the familiar red gleam in her eye, he huffed as he immediately grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together, he didn’t care how it looked, but he wanted to let her know that he wasn’t going to let her use them in her current state of mind. Ray glanced at the man, both confused and frustrated as she wanted to pull it away, yet Zack’s grip was firm.

 “Zack, please let go…” she pleaded.

 “No.”

 “Zack…” she insisted.

 “I fucking said no…” he growled as he placed their hands on his chest, then stubbornly slid the other over them.

 He was going to make damn sure that Ray wasn’t going to try and “fix” anything.

 “Let go…”

 “Then come make me, Ray…I’ll let go until the crazy has left your fucking eyes…” Zack huffed.

 So, he did notice.

 Ray’s expression turned to one of shame and buried her face in Zack’s shoulder, she didn’t want to cry in front of him, but she felt damn close to doing it. The cat perked its head up at the two and sensed that the feline’s time to stick around was done and hopped off to carry on its own business. Zack eventually let go of her hand and brought his arms to wrap around her, like he could sense the somber vibe that she was emanating.

 “Ya still got your own problems to fight, I get it…” Zack murmurs, “…but shit, we stuck around pretty damn long to get the idea that we can’t do stuff alone sometimes…so yeah…I was just trying to help you out…”

 “I know you were Zack, I just really hate myself for feeling that way,” Ray mumbled through Zack’s hoodie, “I shouldn’t feel the need to fix it…the cat was so sweet…”

 “Yeah, yeah…I know it was…” Zack replied as he ran his fingers through her hair, “…it’s not broken though, Ray…he’s just…experienced…kinda like me. Scrapes, dings, ‘n all.”

 He tried to lighten her spirits, but it didn’t seem to work, he sighed to himself as he rested his cheek against the top of her head.

 “Ray…you want to cry, don’t you?”

 He felt her nod.

 “Then what’s stopping you? You know I ain’t gonna judge ya…just let it out, blubber all ya’ want,” Zack said in a soft tone. “It sucks trying to try keeping that shit pent up, ya know?”

 He wasn’t going to hold her back, he was going to be there and hold onto her for support as she began to pour out her self-doubt and hate into tears. Zack knew Ray had this dark side that she hated herself so much for, enough to want death, that was why she was with him. He at least wanted to make this bit of misery tolerable for her, since she had no one else to relate her woes to. Zack could hear her weep against his side as he continued to hold her close and run his fingers through her golden locks.

 There was that feeling again, that sense of inner comfort to hold Ray’s body close to his and just ignore the hidden walls of her personal space. He couldn’t understand why he felt so okay with it, or even what this feeling was, but right now wasn’t the time to question it.

 “…Let it all out yet?” he spoke.

 Ray’s cries have slowly ceased as she quietly sniffled, then nodded once more.

 “Feel better?” he asks.

 “Yes…I’m sorry…” Ray mumbled.

 “Quit apologizing…jeez…” Zack huffed, “…ya’ haven’t done anythin’ wrong…not while I’m around.”

 Isaac let slip that he was going to be her support, and keep her inner demons at bay under his watch. Ray brought her arms up to wrap around him, she felt the man tense up slightly, but was quick to relax as he returned an embrace of his own.

 “Hey, now that yer’ done sobbing…give me a quick smile,” Zack requested.

 Rachel pulled back as he looked up to Isaac, she was a little hesitant as her cheeks were still a shade of red, and her eyes were slightly wet. There was a short pause, then focused her attention back to him as she gave him a sweet grin.

 There was that knotted and tightening feeling again, followed by a flood of impulses invading his mind, he was even drawn to staring at her lips. Zack wondered how the hell he managed to muster such a strong willpower to keep himself from caving in.

 “It’s…better…still needs work…” Zack sputtered out.

 “At least it doesn’t suck…” Ray replied.

 Zack huffed out a small laugh, then ruffled Ray’s hair playfully.

 “Yeah…you’re getting there…”

 “Thank you, Zack,” Ray said, “…especially just being here for me…”

 Zack grumbled under his breath as he shyly scratched the back of his head, “Y-yeah…no problem, Ray. It just sucks to see ya’ like that…”

 Soon, he felt her lean close to peck his cheek out of gratitude, he froze like a fucking statue, and he was sure his burning cheeks could sear through his damn bandages if they got any hotter. Zack just sat there for a moment, before yanking his hood down over his face.

 “For fuck sakes, Ray...” he almost shouted, “Give a word of warning or some shit!”

 Ray couldn’t reply with anything else other than a soft giggle, this shy side of Zack was rather amusing to see, and she seemed to want to see that part of him a little more – same goes with his tender, soft side.

 Deep down, she knew why, but she wasn’t ready to tell him yet, not while he was still confused and flustered when it came to situations like this. Perhaps another time.