#trembling essence visual novel

[ebonysplendor]

Trembling Essence (Extended Demo)🌲

TL;DR: Noah is cute and all, but what isn't cute is the fact that he wants us to stay holed up in this mouldy ass house with him. Like, I get that you live around, or possibly in, a swamp and everything, but damn, bitch, you live like this...?

Game Link: https://zombeebunnie.itch.io/trembling-essence-extended-demo

Notable Features: Self-Insert, Yandere LI, Choice-heavy, HP Bar, Affinity Bar, Gender Neutral MC Spiciness: 0/5 -- Unfortunately, because this man is fine as hell... LI Red Flags: 1.5/5 -- Pretty bossy, pretty moody, and a lil' sassy, but other than, pretty solid dude (so far)

Wanna know more? Well, let's get into it!

So, listen. I have been meaning to finish and get this posted for like three, maybe four, or possibly even five weeks now, and damn it, I'm finally going to, so overlook the excessive grammar errors or whatever; I was lowkey rushing lol. This ain't about that though; it's about this visual novel, and let me tell you, I think it's really good, and it's super promising so far.

I know, I know, I know; I say that about every game but hear me out!

If you've read my reviews before, then you know that there are certain qualities about a visual novel that just scratch my brain in a particular way and absolutely ruin me in the most perfect way possible. One of those things is a choice heavy game. As I've said many a times, I am an absolute slut for a choice heavy game. It is something about every decision that you make mattering in the most detrimental way possible, bonus points if the consequence isn't immediate. Like, yes, make me hesitate and overthink if I should have waffles or cold pizza for breakfast, dev daddy...maker mommy...program parent? Program parent doesn't have as 18+ of a ring to it, admittedly, but we'll make it work.

Anyways, as I mentioned, the game is super good, and as far as I can tell, it's pretty choice heavy. Like, I'll play a route damn near the same way, but respond differently to one thing, and there's a whole new option the next time around like huuuuuuh? Absolutely love the visual novels that do that.

I'll get more into how amazing the actual game itself is in a second, but I'm a little impatient, and I want to jump into the synopsis. Nothing even really popped off as far as showing the LI's yandere side -- well, at least not as crazy as it could be. It was implied, and there were little peaks, but nothing too wild popped off -- but this has some damn good build up for the rest of the game.

Right now, and tragically, it's just the (extended) demo, but it is damned good. But, no, seriously. I'm going to go ahead and jump into the summary. As per usual, ya girl is going to tell you as much about this game as possible without ruining the game itself as a whole. Why? Because, duh, I want you to play it! That's the whole reason for the reviews, big dawg!

So, without further ado, I'm going to get into storytelling mode and summarize the game for ya!

So, boom.

When this whole thing pops off, we're lost in the woods.

Because we're lost with, like, zero bearings of our surroundings, we just kind've wait around in this hollowed out, rotten tree for someone to come along and help us. Admittedly, kind've a tall order, but we're trying to stay hopeful in this hopeless situation, so we wait it out.

We wait, and wait, and wait, and wait some more. We're sleeping on and off, and it's honestly making us feel worse. Why? Well, first off, it's hard to sleep in the current situation we're in anyways. Not to sound ungrateful, because at least we're somewhat shielded from the cold and wind and rain -- yeah, we're dealing with that, too --, but sleeping in a literal swamp area is not the most pleasant sleeping condition, let alone sleeping outside in general. The second is, since we aren't actually fully sleeping, we just feel tired whenever we wake up. It's just an all around sucky situation, but it'd be stupid to continuously wander around when we just see trees and more trees.

With not really much of an option other than to wait and get more crappy sleep, we wait and get more crappy sleep. The next time that we wake up though, it's because we hear the crunching of leaves and someone staring us down until we wake up, and when we do --

GYATT DAAAAAAAAAAMN.

Well, well, well!! Are we still asleep? Are we dreaming because I'm about to act ALL THE WAY up. Like, my most pleasant and ladylike woof for you, my good, visually pleasing sir, and I mean

Woof~♡

Even still though, going from seeing no one to seeing someone, especially this damned close, is pretty startling, so we try to go further back into the tree, but there's not really much further back that we can go.

This guy -- his name is Noah, by the way, and is an absolute bae -- sees us do this, and he's just like "Ayo, calm down. It's just me. Also, you look rough. Haha, sorry, that was rude, but like, this is what happens when you run off". ...Huh?

"Run off"...? Oh. Oh right. This is one of those games. Lmao I almost forgot that this man is probably psycho.

Anyways, he's pretty much lowkey talking shit. Like, he's not trying to from the tone, but he's pretty firm about what he's saying. Basically, we've been gone for about 2 and a half days now, and he's like, either we can come back with him and ensure our safety and survival or we can fuck around and find out. The reason why I say this is because apparently there' s another storm coming, and it's implied to be worse, not to mention that it's going to get mad cold.

...Well, we definitely don't want to fuck around and find out, so we go with him.

He's lowkey still talking shit, though, saying that he's glad we're being "very reasonable" this time and all that, but he's being pretty sweet about being gentle with us; he even helped dust our clothes off and offered to be better company this time around.

We make it back to his cabin, and it's still kind've ghetto and mouldy, but it's better than the last time we were here, so he must've been serious about trying to be better company. That being said, Noah starts trying to rizz us up a little...or that's how I took it, because I'm highkey down bad for this man.

In actuality, he just knows that we're in pretty bad shape and is trying to help us out by getting us on the couch, cleaning our face, feeding us, getting us warm, and, honestly, trying to be as gentle as possible. Partially, because he probably doesn't want us running off again, which he makes super clear because, as most people like him do, he explicitly tells us to never pull that crap again and that he just wants to keep us safe and all that.

Anyways, he gets us some clothes and let's us take a shower. Just because I feel that it's necessary to be said, there's mould in here, too, but it's only a little bit, and it's at the corner of the ceiling. Now the thing is, we can smell some kind of cleaning products so whether he used it on the walls or the utilities that were in the bathroom, we're not sure, but it reassures us that he does at least make an attempt to clean. I mean, the mould is still gross, but at least we aren't outside in the storm and freezing cold.

After a bomb ass shower, we head back out into the living room and regroup with Noah. He makes sure that we're all good and heads into his room to call it a night, but not before very sternly -- what's up with the random sass? -- telling us to not wake him up. Like, yeah, because there's so much to do in this dank, mouldy-ass, minimalist cabin that would cause such a ruckus, Noah. Like lmao be for real, homie.

Whatever, though, we just kind've let him go on about his business. Once he's gone, we look outside and oof...

He wasn't bluffing. Not only did it rain like he predicted, but it's coming down mad hard.

...

I mean, it would be totally stupid, yeah, but we could take our chances and escape for realisies this time since we're refreshed, or we could wake up Noah like he specifically told us not to do, maybe look around a bit which he also told us not to do for whatever reason.

Hmmmm...decisions, decisions.

Super sorry if the storytelling didn't flow as well as usual (if it even did beforehand), but I was pretty excited about getting to the review.

Me, personally, this was a demo done so absolutely correct. I'm honestly anticipating this visual novel so hard, and it's more for the story than the actual game because Noah is so...normal so far? Like, right now, he just seems like your typical tsundere hard ass that gets sassy for no apparent reason but has those really soft moments. I'm so ready to see this man come totally undone. Like, I need to see how psycho this man actually gets, because why did we run off the first time? Did we get kidnapped? Did he help us and wouldn't allow us to leave? Are we actually his partner and we tried to call it quits but our memories got wiped and now he's trying to start fresh so that's why he doesn't want us looking around? Was the reason we left because of the mould? Like, I have so many questions, and I'm invested in this story.

Can we also talk about the affinity and health bar? Such a nice touch; I love it. The way that everything in me just drops whenever either of those bars starts dipping down, and then the apprehension I got when they'd get dangerously low. Like, wait, what's going to happen to me? I'm honestly so excited to see what kind of turmoil the dev decides to create with it. I wonder if it's not what it seems though. Like, I wonder if you have to get his affinity in a certain range versus trying to max it out or as close to max as possible. You know, like you can't just always be a "yes" person towards him, but you're not supposed to be super combative either; just enough to get that cozy 72% and unlock a true ending or something.

This game has so many possibilities and so much potential, and I'm just damned excited about the direction that it's going in. The art style is sleek, the LI is a total bae, and the story is storying; it's an experience and a damned exhilarating one. Like, I'm in deep just because I'm so curious about, first off, what's going to happen next and, second, what tricks the dev still has up their sleeve that they hadn't showcased yet.

Okay, I think I've gushed enough. I absolutely recommend playing the game if you haven't already. Like I said, as far as the LI goes, nothing too out of pocket happens, just some sass, but the build up is damned solid. Definitely give it a good playthrough if you're willing, not to mention, there is multiple "endings" just in the demo which is wild. But yeah, if you want to give it the ol' college try, here's a link to the game. If you end up liking it and/or want to give the dev that extra push to keep going with a classic "Ayo, this game is kind've dope, and you are you. Give MOAR", head over to the game page (or the dev's tumblr) and post those encouraging words; if you're able, drop a few coins for them, too -- I'm sure they'd appreciate the extra support.

That's all from me though, so now, I'm going to somewhat awkwardly close this out and use this as a transition sentence since I can't think of anything better.

As always! A huge reminder! Drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to you around~!

Trembling Essence

Dev's Tumblr Page

[zombeebunnie]

Just for fun from the [Extended Demo] and based off some comments I've been reading around about how the player(Y/N) won't let Noah go to sleep which made me laugh. :B

[randomsum]

I was day dreaming this 👁️ (ignore the first image I was very very lazy)

Momo the Torture is made by @2-dsimp

Mychaella is made by @deerspherestudios

Luna is made by @hime-bee

Nolan is made by @zombeebunnie

Croía is made by @prikarin

Emily & Erica are made by @perfectlovevn

I might add more gender-bents MIGHT idk🤷🏿‍♀️

[knightanni--fanart]

Noah Fanart from Trembling Essence!

I am extremely Normal about this man. I do not have Brainrot about him. Nope.

Character belongs to @zombeebunnie. Noah is the male yandere from their game, Trembling Essence, and you should go play the Extended Demo right now.

Edit: I forgot to share the YCH I used: link. Found on Pinterest.

[woundfucker89]

So yeah..there's this game that caught my attention.

It's called "Trembling essence,, its still under developement but the first day demo is already avaible on itch.io so yall should check it out and show the creator sum love :)

[maddymoreau]

Nine Visual Novel Recommendations 

In order from left to right:

1. Gentle Fall (Demo) - While attempting to get your degree you can’t shake the feeling you're being watched.

https://isattt.itch.io/gentle-fall

2. A Cry For Help (Complete) - While working at a call center you receive a desperate cry for help.

https://itsyaboi328.itch.io/acryforhelpvn

3. Rotten Dinner (Demo) - At your college you’ve noticed one of your classmates getting tormented by bullies again. Will you help him?

https://wwwormeow.itch.io/rotten-dinner

4. The Stranger From The Bus Stop (Complete) - Deciding whether or not to help a stranger at the bus leads to dire consequences.

https://daijubudef.itch.io/the-stranger-from-the-bus-stop

5. Mushroom Oasis (Demo) - While looking for your lost cat in the woods you’re rescued by odd looking individual. Who despite your recovery doesn’t seem to want you to leave. 

https://deerspherestudios.itch.io/mushroom-oasis

6. A Night For Flesh and Roses (Demo) - Change your form as you enter a body-horror castle filled with other likeminded individuals. 

https://necropocene.itch.io/a-night-for-flesh-and-roses

7. Flowers of Evil (Demo) - A man who reeks of wet dirt and loves poetry invites you on a date. Will you accept?

https://boyinajar.itch.io/flowers-of-evil

8. Pocket Lover (Demo & Hiatus) - Dating is hard but at least you have an Ai boyfriend to keep you company! Though . . . he’s starting to act a little off. 

https://bingzi.itch.io/pocket-lover-14-demo

9. Trembling Essence (Demo) - Lost in swamplands you’ll need to survive with the help of someone named Noah. A man whose intentions you’re unsure of along with if he’s hiding something. 

https://zombeebunnie.itch.io/trembling-essence-demo

Note: Make sure to read the Tw for these games! 

[rinriya]

VN with yandere ROs?

I want to play visual novels with yandere RO's who absolutely, clearly, 100% have problems with their heads. CLARIFICATION I'm totally OK, I just like thriller games with subtle psychology and dangerous situations of which you tried to get out (or just stay alive... or go crazy too). Can you recommend something like that? And it will be great if you can choose MCs gender or it will be gender neutral. I don't play as female MCs. I played Boyfriend To Death (the whole series ofc, it's a classic), Lurking For Love, Where Winter Crows Go, Hopeless Romantic, YOU and HIM, Lovers Trophy, Invite Me In, Yandere Love: Chains of Fate, Courtin' Cowboys, Trembling Essence, Killer Trait, Blood & Sherry

[warrioreowynofrohan]

On the Les Misérables Musical

I love the musical of Les Mis, and I’ve come to believe that a musical is the only form of visual, performance-based adaptation capable of capturing the novel’s essence.

Because many of the the absolutely central character moments of the novel - Valjean’s repentance; his stuggle with the choice of whether to reveal himself and save Champmathieu; Javert’s suicide - are transformations and conflicts that occur solely within the character’s mind and soul. They’re among the strongest pieces of writing in the entire book, and only the musical form (or perhaps a live theatre performance that permitted monologues) allows their expression. The story is simply too internal in crucial places to be expressed in its fullness by conventional forms of film and television adaptation.

And the musical’s songs at those moments do a fantastic job of taking these deep, multi-page reflections and expressing their key essence.

For example, in “Javert’s Suicide”:

The Book: Javert found that something horrible was penetrating his soul, admiration for a convict. Respect for a galley-slave, can that be possible? He shuddered at it, yet could not shake it off. It was useless to struggle, he was reduced to confess before his own inner tribunal the sublimity of this wretch. That was hateful.

The Musical: How can I now allow this man / to hold dominion over me?

The Book: He asked himself: “This convict, this desperate man, whom I have pursued even to persecution, and who has had me beneath his feet, and who could have avenged himself, and who ought to have done so as well for his revenge as for his security, in granting me my life, in sparing me, what has he done? His duty? No. Something more.”

The Musical: This desperate man who I have hunted? He gave me his life, he gave me freedom. I should have perished by his hand; it was his right.

The Book: But also why had he permitted this man to let him live? He had, in that barricade, the right to be killed. He should have availed himself of that right. To have called the other insurgents to his aid against Jean Valjean, to have secured a shot by force, that would have been better.

The Musical: It was my right to die as well; instead I live, but live in hell!

The Book: All that he had believed was dissipated...The projectile man no longer knowing his road, and recoiling!

The Musical: And must I now begin to doubt, who never doubted all those years?

The Book: To be granite, and to doubt! to be the statue of penalty cast in a single piece in the mould of the law, and to suddenly percieve that you have under your breast of bronze something preposterous and disobedient which almost resembles a heart!

The Musical: My heart is stone, and yet it trembles!

The Book: Here he was startled; his balances were disturbed; one of the scales fell into the abyss, the other flew into the sky, and Javert felt no less dismay from the one which was above than the one which was below...He had lived up to this moment by that blind faith which a dark probity engenders. This faith was leaving him, this probity was failing him.

The Musical: The world I have known is lost in shadow.

Valjean’s song, “Who am I?”, accomplishes the same thing: the version he sings before he turns himself in to deliver Champmathieu follows the same pattern as Valjean’s thoughts in the book: first self-interest; then self-sacrifice; then rationalizing self-preservation as the preservation of the welfare of Montrueil-sur-Mer; and then rejecting that rationalization and choosing to turn himself in. The complexities of these conflicts are too great to express in just a few moments of facial expression; they need to be stated aloud, and the musical provides the opportunity for that.

[novelteatins]

A Tea in Proust

This morning, I woke up and continued my reading of Swann’s Way, by Marcel Proust. The novel has been a comically ssslllooowww endeavor. Over 6 months I’ve accomplished about 60 pages. Initially, I thought it would be cool to ONLY read the book while skateboarding down College Avenue in Berkeley, something that proved quickly to be a bad idea in about every way except for it’s punk-romantic undertones which nobody but I (and Avril, RIP) seemed to care for anyhow...

Anyway, this morning, I read about 10 times my usual portion. Why? Well for the very reason I am here on NovelTeas blog to tell you, this morning’s reading happened to be a chapter concerning tea and memories...

I have copied the passage below:

Note: If this is your first time reading Proust, let me be the first to tell you to take your time -- that is the only way you’ll enjoy it...

...

And so it was that, for a long time afterwards, when I lay awake at night and revived old memories of Combray, I saw no more of it than this sort of luminous panel, sharply defined against a vague and shadowy background, like the panels which a Bengal fire or some electric sign will illuminate and dissect from the front of a building the other parts of which remain plunged in darkness: broad enough at its base, the little parlour, the dining-room, the alluring shadows of the path along which would come M. Swann, the unconscious author of my sufferings, the hall through which I would journey to the first step of that staircase, so hard to climb, which constituted, all by itself, the tapering ’elevation’ of an irregular pyramid; and, at the summit, my bedroom, with the little passage through whose glazed door Mamma would enter; in a word, seen always at the same evening hour, isolated from all its possible surroundings, detached and solitary against its shadowy background, the bare minimum of scenery necessary (like the setting one sees printed at the head of an old play, for its performance in the provinces) to the drama of my undressing, as though all Combray had consisted of but two floors joined by a slender staircase, and as though there had been no time there but seven o’clock at night. I must own that I could have assured any questioner that Combray did include other scenes and did exist at other hours than these. But since the facts which I should then have recalled would have been prompted only by an exercise of the will, by my intellectual memory, and since the pictures which that kind of memory shews us of the past preserve nothing of the past itself, I should never have had any wish to ponder over this residue of Combray. To me it was in reality all dead.

Permanently dead? Very possibly.

There is a large element of hazard in these matters, and a second hazard, that of our own death, often prevents us from awaiting for any length of time the favours of the first.

I feel that there is much to be said for the Celtic belief that the souls of those whom we have lost are held captive in some inferior being, in an animal, in a plant, in some inanimate object, and so effectively lost to us until the day (which to many never comes) when we happen to pass by the tree or to obtain possession of the object which forms their prison. Then they start and tremble, they call us by our name, and as soon as we have recognised their voice the spell is broken. We have delivered them: they have overcome death and return to share our life.

And so it is with our own past. It is a labour in vain to attempt to recapture it: all the efforts of our intellect must prove futile. The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object (in the sensation which that material object will give us) which we do not suspect. And as for that object, it depends on chance whether we come upon it or not before we ourselves must die.

Many years had elapsed during which nothing of Combray, save what was comprised in the theatre and the drama of my going to bed there, had any existence for me, when one day in winter, as I came home, my mother, seeing that I was cold, offered me some tea, a thing I did not ordinarily take. I declined at first, and then, for no particular reason, changed my mind. She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called ’petites madeleines,’ which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim’s shell. And soon, mechanically, weary after a dull day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate than a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, but individual, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory–this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it was myself. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, accidental, mortal. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? I was conscious that it was connected with the taste of tea and cake, but that it infinitely transcended those savours, could not, indeed, be of the same nature as theirs. Whence did it come? What did it signify? How could I seize upon and define it?

I drink a second mouthful, in which I find nothing more than in the first, a third, which gives me rather less than the second. It is time to stop; the potion is losing its magic. It is plain that the object of my quest, the truth, lies not in the cup but in myself. The tea has called up in me, but does not itself understand, and can only repeat indefinitely with a gradual loss of strength, the same testimony; which I, too, cannot interpret, though I hope at least to be able to call upon the tea for it again and to find it there presently, intact and at my disposal, for my final enlightenment. I put down my cup and examine my own mind. It is for it to discover the truth. But how? What an abyss of uncertainty whenever the mind feels that some part of it has strayed beyond its own borders; when it, the seeker, is at once the dark region through which it must go seeking, where all its equipment will avail it nothing. Seek? More than that: create. It is face to face with something which does not so far exist, to which it alone can give reality and substance, which it alone can bring into the light of day.

And I begin again to ask myself what it could have been, this unremembered state which brought with it no logical proof of its existence, but only the sense that it was a happy, that it was a real state in whose presence other states of consciousness melted and vanished. I decide to attempt to make it reappear. I retrace my thoughts to the moment at which I drank the first spoonful of tea. I find again the same state, illumined by no fresh light. I compel my mind to make one further effort, to follow and recapture once again the fleeting sensation. And that nothing may interrupt it in its course I shut out every obstacle, every extraneous idea, I stop my ears and inhibit all attention to the sounds which come from the next room. And then, feeling that my mind is growing fatigued without having any success to report, I compel it for a change to enjoy that distraction which I have just denied it, to think of other things, to rest and refresh itself before the supreme attempt. And then for the second time I clear an empty space in front of it. I place in position before my mind’s eye the still recent taste of that first mouthful, and I feel something start within me, something that leaves its resting-place and attempts to rise, something that has been embedded like an anchor at a great depth; I do not know yet what it is, but I can feel it mounting slowly; I can measure the resistance, I can hear the echo of great spaces traversed.

Undoubtedly what is thus palpitating in the depths of my being must be the image, the visual memory which, being linked to that taste, has tried to follow it into my conscious mind. But its struggles are too far off, too much confused; scarcely can I perceive the colourless reflection in which are blended the uncapturable whirling medley of radiant hues, and I cannot distinguish its form, cannot invite it, as the one possible interpreter, to translate to me the evidence of its contemporary, its inseparable paramour, the taste of cake soaked in tea; cannot ask it to inform me what special circumstance is in question, of what period in my past life.

Will it ultimately reach the clear surface of my consciousness, this memory, this old, dead moment which the magnetism of an identical moment has travelled so far to importune, to disturb, to raise up out of the very depths of my being? I cannot tell. Now that I feel nothing, it has stopped, has perhaps gone down again into its darkness, from which who can say whether it will ever rise? Ten times over I must essay the task, must lean down over the abyss. And each time the natural laziness which deters us from every difficult enterprise, every work of importance, has urged me to leave the thing alone, to drink my tea and to think merely of the worries of to-day and of my hopes for to-morrow, which let themselves be pondered over without effort or distress of mind.

And suddenly the memory returns. The taste was that of the little crumb of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before church-time), when I went to say good day to her in her bedroom, my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of real or of lime-flower tea. The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it; perhaps because I had so often seen such things in the interval, without tasting them, on the trays in pastry-cooks’ windows, that their image had dissociated itself from those Combray days to take its place among others more recent; perhaps because of those memories, so long abandoned and put out of mind, nothing now survived, everything was scattered; the forms of things, including that of the little scallop-shell of pastry, so richly sensual under its severe, religious folds, were either obliterated or had been so long dormant as to have lost the power of expansion which would have allowed them to resume their place in my consciousness. But when from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, still, alone, more fragile, but with more vitality, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls, ready to remind us, waiting and hoping for their moment, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unfaltering, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.

And once I had recognized the taste of the crumb of madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-flowers which my aunt used to give me (although I did not yet know and must long postpone the discovery of why this memory made me so happy) immediately the old grey house upon the street, where her room was, rose up like the scenery of a theatre to attach itself to the little pavilion, opening on to the garden, which had been built out behind it for my parents (the isolated panel which until that moment had been all that I could see); and with the house the town, from morning to night and in all weathers, the Square where I was sent before luncheon, the streets along which I used to run errands, the country roads we took when it was fine. And just as the Japanese amuse themselves by filling a porcelain bowl with water and steeping in it little crumbs of paper which until then are without character or form, but, the moment they become wet, stretch themselves and bend, take on colour and distinctive shape, become flowers or houses or people, permanent and recognisable, so in that moment all the flowers in our garden and in M. Swann’s park, and the water-lilies on the Vivonne and the good folk of the village and their little dwellings and the parish church and the whole of Combray and of its surroundings, taking their proper shapes and growing solid, sprang into being, town and gardens alike, from my cup of tea.

Enjoy the rest of your day (and the days that follow?)

Warmly

Johnny

[zombeebunnie]

Wait how tall is Noah???

Noah is 6'0!

If he's wearing his traveling shoes around the player(Y/N) or going through the swamp by himself, it puts him at almost 6'2. He prefers shoes that don't give him extra height but he'll make do with what he has. :]

[zombeebunnie]

POV: You asked Noah to fight.

This is based off this ask I got a week or two ago and hearing this audio on Tiktok reminded me it. It made me laugh so I wanted to incorporate it with Noah. :P

[zombeebunnie]

How is Noah during the morning (⁠〒⁠﹏⁠〒⁠) He doesn't come off as a morning person to me

Lore time:

Noah isn't much of a morning person and would need time to adjust unless he had a genuine reason to be on alert or woken up by something. If he is up in the morning a hot cup of tea after a warm shower will sometimes make things easier otherwise he'll be asleep until around noon or so if he isn't too tired. Even before the events of the game he didn't enjoy getting up in the morning and preferred mid-shifts during his finance days.

I tried my best with this drawing since i sketched it out some time ago, still practicing angles/poses etc... :,,]

[zombeebunnie]

I made this just for fun before my computer shorted out and died so the final drawing of Noah is done differently. :,P

[zombeebunnie]

This is for an ask I got back in February. I think it was about giving Noah a smooch. :]

Unfortunately all the asks in my inbox randomly got deleted around that time but I recently found this old unfinished file of it so I redrew everything! :]

[zombeebunnie]

Noah is here to rescue you!(Again) :P

I thought this was pretty funny so I wanted to upload this here too. X]

[zombeebunnie]

Hiii!! Is Noah an extrovert or an introvert? :3

Oh this is a good one! :[]

Lore time:

Before the events of the game:

During his college years, Noah was an ambivert. He slightly leaned more towards an extrovert once he got comfortable at his finance job. At some point he suddenly became introverted and stayed this way for a while. More time passes and he slowly goes back to being an ambivert but something happened and he became very introverted after. I can't say why or what caused this due to spoilers.

During the events of the game:

Right now he is still currently introverted but has hints of ambivert traits! :]