#this isin a positive tone

[vvriskerrs]

erm. . . what the sigma! 😅😅 i guess this is. . . #embarrassing! dattebayo!!! heh. . . i deserve it i guess

god forbid i dont draw below the waistline

i know the bg doesnt match but i dont care anymore i dont like how this looks but its too late

[impossiblesuitcase]

K your requests are closed but you said you would accept my one. (Thks btw) This can take place anytime after the series (when cinder is on Luna, when they are engaged or married etc) basically the idea is that Kai starts getting extremely bad headaches one day. Like so bad that he has had to leave the room to go throw up from the pain, and is constantly zoning out etc. He doesn’t tell anyone cause he thinks he should be able to handle it. And then one day Torin is like “you know your dad had migraines too.” And he finally goes to the doctor for it. It’s mostly Kai and torin but you can certainly add as much Kaider as you want.

Elwin also received this prompt and wrote a fabulous fic. Make sure you read it!

Take What I'm Handed

My love

Hey love, feeling any better?

You

Not really

My love

:(

Hows your head?

You

Like the entire Rampion engine is firing in my skull.

My love

My poor sweetheart. 

Have you been working?

You

Not this morning. I’m trying to stay away from screens before my brain bleeds out

My love

Then voice comm me so you don’t have to look at the screen

You

I’m in a meeting

My love

Important?

You

Earthen Union

My love

So not important ;)

What’s it about

You

Hey there missy, since when are you entitled to know?

I seem to recall you abdicating the throne seven months ago

You can’t have your cake and eat it too

My love

I will eat all the cake I want :P

You

It’s for mandatory declaration of status as a lunar at international borders

My love

Ah

Vargas will like that

You

Of course. You know Americans

My love

We know one American and that’s enough

here let me prepare an answer for you

The greater issue to consider here is how this bill will be received by the provinces. The mandatory declaration of origin at international borders has traditionally been a residual power decided on a state by state basis. Adding Lunars into this heated issue does not change legislation. If we exclude the provinces from discussions in these mandates, it could be perceived as an aggressor.  

How did I go?

“Your Majesty.”

Kai startled, ripping burning eyes from his port to the holograph. 

A line of portraits floated before the conference room—world leaders and their cookie-cutter identical representatives. The speaker’s portrait was lit up, emblazoned with a United Kingdom; as if any breathing soul could even enter such a high-ranking meeting without knowing all present. 

All present were staring at him.

Releasing his port with a jolt—and a loud thud—Kai garbled a, “Pardon, Your Majesty?”

Queen Camilla’s pencilled eyebrow quirked. It was difficult to know what she really thought under that impeccable diplomatic visage, but Kai had been raised to speak that language. It could be:

It’s your turn (kind and prompting).

It’s your turn (desperate to be freed from this tedious meeting).

It’s your turn (speak, incompetent moron).

Judging by her pursed lips, Kai guessed it was a combination of those last two.

“We are awaiting your response,” she said plainly.

“Right,” he started, with absolutely no inkling of where his words should go. “My apologies. I trust this is referring to the, uh, the mandatory declaration of status as a Lunar at international borders?”

“Yes, it isin relation to the sole topic we’ve been discussing for the past hour,” intoned Governor-General Williams of Australia, near-glaring. Kai appreciated the bluntness.

“Thank you. I just wondered if…there was…a…specific point in this matter that you were referring to. So I can verify with my notes before contributing,” he lied, knowing he hadn’t intended to present anything in this meeting. He just hoped one of the other Commonwealth representatives—ones who were currently capable of breathing without their intestines tying around their lungs—had already spoken on his behalf. “The Eastern Commonwealth’s position remains unchanged.”

“Forgive me if I misspeak, but I do believe your country is yet to offer anything on this matter thus far,” Camilla observed, tone devoid of any request for forgiveness.

Ah, so option three: speak, incompetent moron.

“Th-that is correct, my sincerest apologies again. I was referring to our position as discussed in our private meetings”—(meetings he hadn’t attended, though he’d briefly skimmed over the minutes at breakfast that morning)—“and I mistakenly assumed we had already expressed those views today. Our stance is…is…”

His eyes fell to his port, fingers primed to race for those minutes when he saw Cinder’s last message on the split screen. 

His brain barely paused to screen them before the words tumbled from his mouth.

“The greater issue to consider here,” he recited haltingly, “is as to how this bill will be received by the provinces. The mandatory declaration of origin at international borders has traditionally been a residual power decided on a state-by-state basis.” Heart calming, he eased his tone, donning the veil of a well-rehearsed speech. “Folding Lunars into this inflammatory mix does not alter legislation. If we exclude the provinces from discussions in these mandates, it could be perceived as an aggressor.”

Mind clearer as the panic subsided, he looked up gravely, concluding, “I think we can all agree that after the cataclysmic ramifications of the war, none of us desire the possibility of internal insurgence.”

A crackle of static crossed the connection. All were voiceless.

Is this not what they’d been discussing? Is it obvious he hasn’t paid attention?

Then Camilla’s nose pinched, reminiscent of a teacher’s glower when they’d pick on an inattentive student, expecting floundering, only to receive the correct answer. Smarting over the rebuff, poor concealment to save face. Yet she wasn’t disagreeing. Nor did any of the others fire back some warmed-up-leftovers retort.

“That is…not something we’ve yet considered,” she conceded.

Stars bless his woman.

You

Thank you.

My love

You used it?

I tried my best to sound like you

You

It was a lifesaver.

Though I changed a few words.

My love

Which ones?

You

Heated is a bit general. I used inflammatory.

My love

Ooh ill add it to my ‘fancy politician speak’ list.

“And what does the EC propose we do to prevent seditious mentalities arising from the provinces?” asked Prime Minister Kamin of Africa after several points Kai hadn’t heeded to passed.

Autopilot. “Considering this matter concerns the provinces, should we not turn to the provinces? I suggest” —Stars he is just making this up as he goes—“we first hold counsel with the province representatives individually. With impartial moderators of course.” (Nice, that’ll make it sound fleshed out.) “Once the opinions of each province are compiled, we can adjourn again to find the best strategy moving forward.”

Don’t see it as a cop-out to end this meeting. Don’t see it as a cop-out to end this meeting. This totally a cop-out.

President Vargas of the American Republic cleared his throat. The person who had introduced this bill, the person with a propensity for dragging a meeting through sleeplessness, hunger, and absolute thirst until he got his way. Kai felt everyone brace for argument, but Vargas simply commented, “That seems to be the most logical plan for the time being,” Oh, thank you, loud American man.

“I agree,” said Grand Minister Clay of Luna, always kindly looking even with the grimmest of subjects. He had been noticeably quiet this meeting; understandably, as he had held this position for less than a year and the Union were still not in the practise of including Luna in debates about Luna. “Luna only wants its citizens to interact with yours in peaceful, harmonious relations. We will do all we can from our side of the atmosphere to accommodate these adjustments in what is, as we recognise, an incendiary issue.”

A murmur of polite agreement. Good. Everyone’s happy. The end. Now. Please.

My love

Finished?

You

I wish.

Incendiary. From Jacin’s dad.

My love

adding some flavour. It makes the list.

谢谢

You

‘You’re welcome’ in Mandarin

My love

You’re too tired to type it out? You are sick

Here

不客气 

You

不客气

Thanks

My love

Have you eaten yet?

You

Yeah. I threw up ten minutes later.

My love

Get some water into you and go to bed after youre done

You

Can’t. I’ve got two more meetings

My love

No you dont. Go to bed

You

I might feel better by then

My love

Kaito

You

I’ll rest before then

Promise

———

He didn’t rest.

Kai trudged to his office, feet clawing on the carpet. His shoes were sure to be scuffed. That was all right; maybe he could throw one against his temple to knock himself out of his misery. 

The meeting had ended later than scheduled, as per usual. Then when the connections beeped out, his own staff had turned to him with ready-made speeches for the meeting after the meeting. It was terribly impolite how he’d blown them off and stumbled out to the hallway.

It was also terribly hard to care.

His hand skimmed the wall as he turned a corner. Eyes resolutely closed, he had never been so glad to live in this palace his whole life, for he knew the path just by sense. His stomach was roiling yet ravenous.

Four more steps, instinct reminded him.

Cold hands grazed a door frame. Kai fumbled, eyes still sealed, until he found the scanner and flashed his wrist, waiting for the whoosh of the sliding door.

Silence.

He flashed his wrist again.

One, two, three seconds.

Hailing a thousand planets’ worth of strength, he forced his eyes open. Kai centred his wrist where the scanner’s electronic beam should lie. Except there was none. 

“Wha—”

“It’s locked.”

He jerked and spun to the voice, surprised to be surprised to see his adviser seated in an armchair by the window. Of course—Torin had been at the Union meeting. And now he was here for the next meeting, to be held in precisely thirty-four minutes. 

“Well,” he spoke, tongue iron in his mouth. “Can…can we unlock it?”

“No.”

“…No?”

“I locked it, Your Majesty.”

Kai smacked his lips, hand still hovering beneath the scanner. It took a significantly long moment before he uttered, “...Why?”

Torin abruptly stood, brushed down his suit and approached him. His mouth was set in a fine line, eyes enigmatic black. Kai momentarily felt that he should be bowing to this man as his superior, not the other way around.

His adviser procured something from his suit pocket, folding Kai’s fingers around it. A small silver flask, cool to the touch.

Kai held it. Stared at it dumbly.

“Ahem.”

Fingers waking under the discipline, he quickly untwisted the cap and brought the flask to his nose. He gave a cautionary sniff to scan for anything deadly—coffee would surely murder him. Finding it scentless, he drank. Water. He drank, drank, drank.

Once the flask was drained, Torin pulled it back to his possession. “This way,” he said, extending a hand towards the corridor.

Kai’s budding question died as Torin began striding away. His office door sung out to him—promising escape, promising rest. 

He could cancel that meeting. He could just not show.

But it was important. It was always so important. The mere fact that his country was still his and united and free was not to be understated.

He would take what he was handed. The burden, no, the responsibility that had been bestowed.

Three corridors in, no explanation had been offered. The hope that he was being led to his quarters was quashed on the cross-path to the sixteenth floor, where Torin diverted to the left. From the corner of his periphery, Kai noticed Torin studying him with a strong expression.

Great. He’s probably here to toss me a pack of painkillers, a ‘toughen up’ pep talk and force me into the meeting early.

Rather than do any of those things, Torin proffered him a pair of sunglasses. “Shield your eyes.”

He was frighteningly prepared. Slipping them on, Kai began blinking rapidly as the hallway was sucked of light. The sting behind his irises soothed. It did help. But his brain was still bleeding out of his ears, and every step, no matter how delicate, sent a throb up his spine. “Torin, I don’t think I can—”

“Just a moment, Kai.”

Kai was gently steered into a door that he had never noticed before, despite having walked this path countless times. Once inside, and only once he processed that they’d stopped walking, he realised it was an elevator. Not like the other elevators in the palace with their polished mahogany and dragon emblems and Edo period landscapes as the wallpaper. This was a plain stainless steel. It didn’t even have an android standing by.

“This is a servant’s elevator,” Torin supplied, expecting the curiosity. “It is a more direct route to our destination. I also believed you’d find the fewer guards along this path preferable.”

Yes. The less people who saw him like this, the better.

A disorientating swoop landed in his belly as they descended five floors. Ten. Thirteen. Then, the doors whished apart—with Kai’s genuine gasp—to blue, blue skies.

The cold hit his bones like a shockwave. The sunshine hit his skin like a prayer.

They trickled out of the lift into the immaculate paradise of the Imperial Palace Gardens. The buds were in bloom, the grass wet and dewy. Birds larked happily—the sound too beautiful to be bothersome to tired ears. Kai gaped in the wonder as they walked this unknown path, ignoring the complaints from his aching temples.

When was the last time he’d been out here?

A chilly afternoon drifted before him, the last before Cinder had left for another ambassadorial stint. They’d had a picnic lunch under the willow tree on the east side of the garden. The leaves were brown and wilting. Cinder had cosied up to him to fight the crisp wind and sprinkled bark in his hair.

Winter.

He hadn’t been outside in a whole season.

“Kai,” called a calm voice. Torin was gesturing to a shady hollow amongst shrubs and trees. Slivers of sunlight flickered and shone down upon plush grass and foxglove blooms and pussy willows. In the centre of the flora was a wooden pavilion.

Torin brushed past him to set up the pillows already resting there. He patted the deck invitingly.

Kai didn’t need to be told twice. Shucking off his suit jacket and tossing it aside, he collapsed onto his back. His tendons groaned at the unforgiving mattress of wood, but Kai didn’t care. He was as content as a cooing baby in a cot.

The pavilion was small, but enough to accommodate all of Kai’s five feet and eleven inches. He gulped in the sweet scent of jasmine and breathed with the beats of the wind whistling through hollyhocks. Time passed; something vaguely prodded at him, badgering on about being back on time for his meetings.

Eh, Torin can force me back inside when he must.

At least, he assumed Torin had stayed. He was yet to hear the rustle of a wool suit and departing footsteps, though he doubted his woozy mind would notice.

Throat dry and hoarse, he tested, “How’d you know about this place?”

Birds chirped in response. Wind added its opinion. But no voice of his adviser.

He’d left.

But then, softly: “You are certainly not the first to struggle with the pressures of palace life.”

“Are you implying you’ve had moments of inability? You?” Kai laughed, rubbing his eyes. “Don’t joke, Torin.”

“I’m sure it is a great shock to you.” The response was more humoured than he’d heard in a while. The last time Torin had allowed such openness had been early in Cinder’s reign, when he’d informed her that she was not in fact bowing to the prince and princess of the United Kingdom, but the delivery florists.

(Kai didn’t think he’d laughed so hard since.)

“I am not as indestructible or unperturbed as I exert myself to appear, Kai. Nor should you have to be.”

Cracking open an eye, Kai glanced weakly at him. The perpetual frown was as present as if it were carved out of marble. Yet the slightest glimmer in his outstretched gaze warmed the stone.

“This place belonged to your father.” His voice assumed a warm, reminiscent timbre. “He and his father —your grandfather—built it together during one of Rikan’s school holidays. In later years, Rikan would come here when he required a reprieve from the necessities demanded of an emperor.”

Kai smiled at the thought of his father and grandfather together, working on a project—an idyllic image of bonding. His grandfather had died when Kai was too young to remember him, making Rikan a very young emperor. Kai had since claimed that record. His grandmother had died his last year of high school. As for his mother, her family originated from Japan and still lived there. None of them had ever been fond of his mother’s decision to marry a prince, so while his maternal grandparents sent gifts every year, they’d only promised to come visit to officially meet their granddaughter-in-law-to-be. “Why didn’t dad ever take me here?” he wondered aloud. “If he’d made it with Zǔfù…”

“Rikan was a good father. But he was also a young, troubled widower.” A sigh. “He came here to relieve those frustrations. He only ever wanted to give you the best of him; perhaps that’s why he did not bring you.”

A brown leaf blew in from the wind, a remnant from winter. Torin caught it in mid-air, crumpling it in his fist.

Kai recalled many things after his mother’s death, but the image of dad crying was obscured. The months following, Rikan had devoted himself to time with his son; outings, ice creams and bike rides, hugs and hot milk before bedtime. Kai had wondered at the time if his dad was a superhero, because he seemed to handle the pain that was suffocating Kai with such ease. Now older, a well-acquainted unwilling friend of grief, Kai guessed those tears had been shed into his mother’s pillow at night.

“He always did,” Kai confirmed, turning to his side. The breeze kissed his chin. “I wish he were here.” I wish he’d cried with me. I wish he’d let me see that it was okay.

“As do I.”

His eyes fluttered as he breathed, thinking of Cinder. More and more as he aged, he understood what his father felt when his mother died. To lose Cinder…he feared the person he would become. She was everything to him. She was everything that helped him stay him. For his father to smile and endure and lead the nation with conviction proved yet again that Rikan was a far greater man than himself.

“He was much stronger than me.”

“That is hardly true,” Torin reprimanded coldly.

A chuckle bubbled in Kai’s throat, the image of a young prince being scolded by a tall, stern-faced adviser flitting by his memories.

“Don’t laugh. Your father would not want you to believe him an infallible saint.”

“Sorry, sir.”

He exhaled loudly through his nostrils, an eye roll in Konn Torin language. “Your father struggled just as any person under such conditions would.”

“Yeah, he struggled. Me, I collapse.”

 A scoff. “Do you know what would happen when you father struggled?”

“No.”

“He would develop migraines.”

Kai froze. A pointed look was aimed his way.

“Anxiety is normal. It’s healthy, in a way. It motivates you to do things well, knowing their negative results if you do not. But worrying about the anxiety, overexerting yourself in hopes of pre-empting that anxiety…”

He didn’t need to finish. Kai knew he was doing better than the eighteen-year-old orphan who had just lost his father and inherited half the world. But vast experience two more years did not make.

“You deserve respite, Kai. Do not be ashamed to take it.” Torin hesitated, an uncommon sight. “I…I won’t always be here to tell you to take care of yourself.”

A smile curled over dry lips. “Soon I’ll have an empress to do that.”

“Indeed. Still I am certain your fiancée would not want you to be overworking yourself as you are now.”

She doesn’t.

Torin opened his hand. The leaf he had claimed was now no more than a pile of brown ashes. Closing his eyes meditatively, succumbing to the cadence of the breeze, Torin seemed to be waiting. Trees kindly lowered their branches, inviting any wandering travellers to pass through.

Torin was patient. A burst of wind whistled overhead and at its loudest, he tossed the crumbs. Each piece scattered through the current, dancing a pas de deux in the exhilaration of freedom, and then they were gone.

Torin held out his empty palm. “You should always have someone you can lean upon when you struggle, Kai. But you must learn to stand up on your own.”

Planting his hands on the deck, Kai took a breath. He heaved himself upwards.

He took Torin’s hand. 

A fatherly smile, a tired smile, in tandem.

“Thank you,” said Kai.

Torin’s wrinkles creased back into that hard-set indifference. I’m proud of you, in Konn Torin language. He patted Kai’s knee. “I have postponed your meetings for today. Your office will unlock in three hours.”

“It’ll be the end of the workday by then,” Kai contested, laying back atop the pillow.

“Oh. What a shame.”

“Sarcasm?” A yawn as the suitcoat was tucked against his chest. “Cinder’s rubbing off on you.”

“We could all use a touch of her fiery spirit now and turn.”

Maybe. But right now, Kai just wanted Cinder’s icy calmness, when she’d kiss his head and pull him in her arms. Determination and drive could wait for tomorrow.

His head throbbed a quieter drumbeat, syncopated by the footsteps that clipped away on the pebbles. Kai let his face muscles slack, his mind slip away, exhaustion excusing the lack of goodbye.

Something startled him from sleep.

He mumbled incoherently, rising on instinct and squinting at the silhouetted figure.

Torin put a hand to Kai’s chest, easing him back to the deck. “Easy there,” he soothed. He nestled something by Kai’s hip.

Blearily, Kai found the flask from before, refilled. A strip of medicine lay beside it.

“You have an appointment booked with Doctor Li at 13:00 tomorrow if you wish to attend.” A final smile. “Get some rest, Kai.”

There was the goodbye.

“Thanks Torin,” he called distantly with a slow wave, eyes drooping like sleepy autumn buds.

The sounds surrounding him were numerous and beautiful. Before he’d wished to be in the void of space for blessed silence; now he dreaded it. This lulled him like his mother’s voice and his father’s low laugh and Cinder’s humming.

He would take what he was handed. The compassion, the love, the promise of endurance.

Rest he would.

———

You

Did you sic Torin on me?

My love

Let me check the controlling every aspect of Kai’s life group chat

Nope i haven’t commed in a week

You

-_-

My love

Did he make you sleep

You

Yeah

My love

That’s great

He’s a good guy

I actually thought about comming him

But I kinda figured he’d be looking out for you anyway

You

I love you Cinder. You’re my whole world

My love

Sap

(Same)

Go to bed, handsome

You

<3

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @salt-warrior @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @zephyr-thedragon @icarusignite @kaider-is-my-otp @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22 @cosmicnovaflare @kaixiety @snozkat @mirrorballsss @skinwitch18 @vincentvangothic @bakergirl13 @zsysartsandfics

why was this so easy to write yet so difficult to edit? Also I will probably go through and fix this again because I just wanted it out of my drafts. Okay byyyeeee!

[frankendykes-monster]

Sometime in the 23rd or 24th century BCE, things weren’t looking great for the Sumerians. Over hundreds of years they’d built multiple city-states along the alluvial plains of the violently unpredictable Tigris and Euphrates rivers, formed a powerful religion with priest-kings and mudbrick temples as their bases of authority, and even had time left over to develop writing somewhere along the way. Then an usurper came along, conquered most of the city-states, took a name that literally translates as, “No guys, really, I’m a totally legitimate king, I promise,” and set up the Akkad Dynasty. It would last for about a century and a half before more usurpers, more invaders, more uprisings continued to transform the face of Mesopotamia.

It makes for gripping history, and it’s exactly what you’ll be doing in Reiner Knizia’s Tigris & Euphrates.

At first it might not seem like Tigris & Euphrates is really about following in the footsteps of Sargon the Great. Tile-laying? Colorful plastic pieces for leaders? Is this really supposed to be a civilization game? Where’s the blood, the tears, the cards with italicized flavor text at the bottom? Before playing it, I’d even heard that for-some-reason dreaded adjective uttered in hushed, dismissive tones: abstract.

But let’s talk about that, because more than one of the best games I’ve played this year, Tigris & Euphrates is also one of the most strongly thematic. It provides a distant bird’s-eye view of a struggle that spans hundreds, if not thousands of years, and captures the spirit of that struggle so perfectly that I’d be surprised if Ur-du-kuga (who ruled for four years as the 13th king of the 1st dynasty of Isin, for those who’ve forgotten) isn’t grinning like a madman in his grave that somebody finally got it right. “Yes,” he whispers (in Sumerian, not English) through gross cracked lips, dust sputtered across his collection of afterlife-bound food and tools. “This is what my life was about.”

First up is the tile-laying, everything revolving around those four colors of leaders, tiles, and victory points, each of which brings their own particular strength to the table. The most immediately useful of these are the red tiles, representing the religious side of life. Without the nod of those who commune with the gods, hopeful leaders would lose their support and heads right quick; hence, red tiles are useful because next to them are the only spots that leaders can be placed. And if you want to usurp a leader, you’re going to have to send your own leader into hostile territory and do better at manipulating the priesthood. But more on that later.

The other colors are similarly defined. Blue is farmland, the only tile placed on river spaces. And because the most straightforward way to earn a victory point is by placing a certain color of tile into a kingdom where you have that same color of leader, black is useful because its leaders represent powerful kings, able to scoop up any color of victory point that would otherwise go unclaimed. Green is the color of economy, its leaders looting treasure tokens as kingdoms slowly grow together.

Here’s where the true brilliance of Tigris & Euphrates shines through: victory inevitably goes to the player with the highest lowest score. Which might sound like nonsense, but what it means is that everyone spends their time gathering four colors of points, struggling to keep their leaders in strong positions in order to rake in the goods, and whichever point they have the least of becomes their final score. A steady dynasty, then, must not only provide food year after year, but also religious stability, thriving settlements, and packed markets. Those treasure tokens, hotly contested and none too easy to pick up, are the game’s wilds, usable in place of anything and the perfect way to shore up a weak score.

The race to claim them has led to many a civilization’s downfall. Not content to simply express the growth of civilizations, T&E goes through a sort of three-act structure that mimics the rise and decline of ancient societies. There’s the period in which city-states are far-flung, isolated, leaders dotting the map and taking advantage of freshly-laid tiles, but nobody in clear dominance. Then little by little, over centuries, these states consolidate, merging together into sprawling kingdoms. Treasures are claimed and maybe some monuments are built, big structures that loom over the map whenever a grid of same-color tiles are laid. Most importantly, these provide a steady drip of free victory points to whomever has matched their leaders to the monument’s colors. Unsurprisingly, this is the era when revolts become a real possibility as would-be usurpers arise in wealthy kingdoms.

A word on these revolts. See, your dynasty’s leaders are free to share a kingdom with an opponent’s leaders. Any given kingdom never really belongs to one player. However, there can only be one color of a particular leader in any given kingdom at a time, a single high priest, market master, farm-boss, or king. When a kingdom becomes profitable, especially when a monument is built there, it often becomes expedient to oust the incumbent by placing your own leader there, cuing a struggle over who can better control the religious infrastructure of that kingdom. This is fought in the simplest of ways, counting which leader is adjacent to more temples (reds) and then letting players wager red tiles from their hand. It’s an elegant system with so much behind it, from careful placement of your temples and leaders to quietly stockpiling tiles to stage a coup or defend against an upstart.

But revolts are one thing. Then there are wars.

As kingdoms become ever more powerful, huge chunks of tiles grown together, they reach their third act, a point where their eventual decline is more likely than not. They might face catastrophes, special limited tiles that can split a kingdom in two and salt the earth forevermore. Worse, they might be torn apart by wars. These happen when two kingdoms are united by the placement of a tile, except — “Whoops!” a player says, grinning impishly — now they’ve got leaders of the same color. Cue the drums.

Like revolts, wars are simple affairs. Unlike revolts, they’re potentially devastating. Where a revolt is pitched as a religious conflict where a leader has the support of whichever priesthood they’ve ingratiated themselves with, here a leader has their entire nation at their back.

Let’s say two kingdoms have been brought together, forcing two green leaders into conflict. They count up all the green tiles (called supporters) in their respective kingdoms, wager green tiles from their hands, and the highest number wins. Where this is different from revolts is that rather than just the leader being knocked off the board, all the supporters are too — often resulting in a kingdom being pockmarked with the scars of the war they just fought. Sometimes this even renders a swath of land undesirable, not worth the time it would take to rebuild. Often more devastating than the actual destruction, the victor gains spoils for everything removed, possibly bumping up one of their scores by an enormous margin.

Wars, therefore, can be tremendously destructive acts, both to the layout of the board and the standing of a player. Now imagine what happens when a shrewd player places a tile in such a way that it unifies kingdoms with two or three matching leaders. Once-great kingdoms can disappear overnight, leaving only the barest remnants that they were ever there at all, and players who were once behind can be instantly propelled to supremacy.

In my mind, all of these simple ideas represent two triumphs, two ways in which Tigris & Euphrates is one of the best games I’ve played this year, if not ever.

First of all, I mentioned the three-act structure of the rise, consolidation, and decline of civilizations, but what’s so awesome about T&E is that the course of the game isn’t a single three-act structure. It’s a whole mess of them. Every single city-state, then every kingdom, then every unified empire stands to rise or fall. Many nations can go through this arc in a single game, a near-perfect representation of the turmoil of these ancient civilizations. Abstract? Sure. But not in any demeaning sense.

But even more crucial to the identity of Tigris & Euphrates is the fact that all of this adds up to an breathtakingly fantastic game, one where there is no shortage of compelling moves to be made with every single turn. I love that the game’s strategy forums are filled with people disagreeing with each other, because while a rule of thumb might seem like good advice one moment — say, “Don’t start a war unless you can profit from it” — that very same counsel will be dead wrong the instant you realize you can tear an opponent’s kingdom apart and give them a bunch of points they don’t need. It’s a shockingly malleable system, one that’s difficult to understand without actually diving in and playing it.

And I sincerely hope you do.

[tokiro07]

Cipher Academy ch. 2 thoughts (no promises that I’m going to do this every week like with Undead Unluck, but I sure would like to)

[Spoilers, That’s Exactly What I Did]

Iroha tries to return the AR glasses to Kogoe, citing that he feels like using them was cheating, but Kogoe points out that they’re just a tool and they don’t actually solve puzzles, they only highlight the necessary information for solving them

This is, to me, indicative of a central theme of the series; similar to how Medaka Box analyzed how everyone’s ability to put in effort varies but is just as valid, Cipher Academy notes that not everyone has the same capacity for problem solving. Case in point, Kogoe apparently isn’t very good at solving puzzles herself despite the fact that she’s apparently a skilled inventor and puzzle creator. Iroha, on the other hand, doesn’t have the eye for spotting the method for solving a puzzle, but once he knows where to start, he can put the pieces together quite well, though maybe slowly and systematically. Both of them are very smart and will be necessary to solve the puzzles that hide the Morg (the cryptocurrency stash that apparently serves as both a prize and a way to identify the most talented students), but neither of them could do so on their own

I’m willing to bet that Toshusai will also have an invaluable talent distinct from Kogoe’s or Iroha’s as well, both because she’s been established as a major character right from the get go and because this chapter establishes that no one’s stance is as cut and dry as they seem. Kogoe definitely has ulterior motives that she’s not sharing with Iroha, but Toshusai’s suggestion that Kogoe is going to try to inflate the value of the Morg by using it to incite war can’t be taken at face value either. I’m not saying she’s wrong, just that there’s undoubtedly more to it than we’re being led to believe

In broader strokes, I’m really loving that the puzzles are being numbered. Not only does it feel like a very Nisio Isin thing to do, it also helps give this series a game-like feel. Most notably, it feels like Professor Layton, which does the exact same thing except that it gives each puzzle a point value rather than a star difficulty rating. I have to wonder if the numbers themselves will somehow play into a puzzle later on? I wouldn’t be surprised

Being introduced to the rest of the class and getting a brief glimpse of their personalities and how varied their character designs are, again, feels extremely Nisio Isin while also giving us a chance to familiarize ourselves with Iwasaki’s artistic talents. Every single one of them looks distinct and like their words match their appearance, and I’m sure they’ll be memorable in their own right once they’re allowed to interact with Iroha a bit more intimately (which I assume at least a couple of them will if this is all a big competition)

I’m still trying to get a handle on Iroha’s dynamic with Toshusai since it’s only been literally two chapters and Toshusai was barely in this one, but Toshusai having weapons at the ready to protect Iroha while also talking to him with what seems to be mocking politeness (”why not sit your butt down?”) really seems to set a bit of a begrudging but unquestionably loyal tone

Toshusai giving Iroha a secret message in class by tracing her finger along his back was also...ouph, y’know? I definitely wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the message, I’d have been a bit...distracted in that scenario, myself. Still, Toshusai reminds Iroha to put on his glasses, demonstrating that she’s definitely playing the part of looking out for him, though it’s hard to say if she was legitimately trying to help or trying to catch him in a lie. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but it’s a puzzle manga by Nisio Isin, I expect subterfuge everywhere

I’m not sure whether to expect Iroha and Toshusai to get paired off, but after Katanagatari I’m prepared for anything Nisio might try to pull

The responses seemed more positive this week, though still with some dissenting opinions. Fortunately, it occurred to me that Cipher Academy doesn’t really have any direct competition in Jump at the moment. More than half of Jump’s current lineup is battle manga, about a quarter of it is gag manga, and one is a...what would you describe Ichinose Family’s Deadly Sins as? Drama? Psychological horror? Mystery? Normally a genre is established right off the bat, but this one’s three chapters in and I’m not sure what to make of it. Anyway, Ichinose’s Sins is the closest tonally to Cipher Academy, and that still gives a very wide berth. Super Smartphone seems like it would have been in the same category, but with that gone so quickly, the niche it would have filled is quite nicely opened

Looking back, I think that Cipher Academy is most similar to Enigme considering its use of puzzles. Super Smartphone was more like Death Note in how characters had very specific tools that they needed to utilize to achieve their goals, but this is literally being presented with a scenario that has a specific solution and being asked to find said solution. The only difference is that there aren’t supernatural powers (which I sorely miss from Enigme, by the way)

My hope is that Cipher Academy will get surprisingly popular, just enough that Viz will realize there’s demand for Nisio Isin content and localize Medaka Box. I’m not at the point where I’m gonna be calling for an anime, though I wouldn’t be surprised if I get there within the next few months