#virtual tournament

[mattapparentlystumbltourneys]

Welcome to the Virtual Character Tournament!

Wanna find out who the #1 character of 1's and 0's is? That's what we're gonna find out. Welcome to the Virtual Character Tournament!

The classification can be a bit vague, so let's get into the rules and definitions.

A virtual character is described as a character existing in a digital space (classified by the narrative as such) who primarily operates within said space.

They can have a physical form in some capacity, but it cannot take precedence over their virtual form. (If they do not have a singular physical form and are known to body-hop, that's fine.)

A franchise can have up to 3 representatives.

No OCs. Sorry.

Be respectful of other people. The characters are fictional, but the people rooting for them are not.

No n*zis, t*rfs, tr*nsphobes, or any other related bigots. Not even as an easy springboard for another character to win.

I say virtual characters due to stipulation against AI. AI could work, but in this case, I mean fictional AIs that exist for all kinds of narrative purposes, and not current modern AIs, which exist to let techbros steal from people and cross moral boundaries.

I guess while I'm on that, let's talk about franchises or properties that are excluded from the running.

Real life AIs (ChatGBT, etc.)

South Park

Minecraft SMP

Ender's Game

TOME: Terrain of Magical Expertise

Harry Potter (Unlikely to appear. I'm just covering my bases)

Also, while these characters can still be submitted, do so primarily for propaganda, as they will already be included.

Megaman.EXE (Mega Man Battle Network)

Ai (Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains)

Cortana (Halo)

Other than that, if you have any further questions, submit them to my ask box, and then I'll answer them there and the form accordingly.

DEADLINE TO GET YOUR CHARACTERS IN IS AUGUST 20TH! SO LET'S GO!

Lastly, tagging other great tournaments, like @fandomanimatic-tournament, @mattbracket, @elementspecificcharatourney, @retirement-home-rumble, @sharp-teeth-swag, @enemies-to-allies-tournament...and my past tournament, @elderlytourney!

[jomiddlemarch]

what it is to be a thin crescent moon

Chapter 31

On the first day of December, according to the moldering old book Ana Kuya kept in her private sitting room, its scuffed leather binding secured with two cords that the orphans averred on the safety of their immortal souls resembled nothing more than pair of knotted rat’s tails, Alina and Mal came of age. They had arrived the same day, memorable only for their silence amidst the squalling and shrieking of the other children, and so Ana Kuya had given them the same name-day, though Alina had even then been slight enough to be deemed a year or two younger. What Ana Kuya decided was as irrefutable a decree as anything the Tsar might announce, at least when it came to the denizens of the orphanage, and there was no one to argue with her, even if someone might have been so inclined; the only nurserymaid had just run off with a shepherd or a soldier in the First Army, no one was ever quite sure, so Ana Kuya was short-handed and had jotted down Alina and Mal’s names in her census without the usual degree of solemnity or ceremony, her frown at their sallow Shu coloring overlaid with a general harried expression. It was a year she would recall as overly burdened with an influx of orphans, inadequately sustained by cabbages and the puniest of potatoes, punctuated by wheezing with an especially bad season of the winter catarrh. She had not honestly thought Alina would survive and had not shed a tear over the prospect of her death, though later, much later, she would say that she wore out two well-made chotki, praying through the long winter nights that Alina would wake each morning to greet the dawn with her answering light.

If the Saints had cared much for candor, she would have been struck down for her impiety.

Mal had been her favorite and everyone had known it.

Alina had known it and had been in whole-hearted agreed. Mal was hale and hearty, with a good color in his cheeks and a shine to his dark hair that the homemade soft soap could not dull. He grew broad shouldered and tall on the orphanage’s plain fare and no one begrudged him an extra helping, even though it was common knowledge Alina gave him most of her portion at every meal. It had been nothing to her to wound her hand so they might escape the Grisha assessors and she had been glad to carry the small scar on her palm as his talisman. 

Mal was cheerful and as fond of jokes as footraces, excelling in both, and by the time he’d reached his majority, there were any number of girls at Keramzin who’d have happily given him a kiss without requiring him to steal one. There were a number of girls who’d happily have given him more than a kiss behind the barns if they thought they could escape Ana Kuya’s searching gaze and almost certainly one or two who did, their eyes turning dreamy and abstracted when they were asked, stroking the ends of their braids between two fingers or touching their upper lips very gently in what might have been fantasy but was assumed, widely and with reason, to be memory. 

Mal enlisted in the First Army a man in all the ways the orphans of Keramzin believed counted. 

He gave Alina a brotherly peck on her pale cheek and told her he’d write if he had the chance. 

She knew that meant she’d likely never hear from him again.

She wrote him every week, laboring over the letters, understanding he either glanced at them briefly or tossed them away without opening them. It gave her something to do that did not involve wiping up dirt and snot and shit from the orphans left in her care. Writing him reminded her she had been a person, Alina, before she was Miss, before she tied the voluminous pinafore around her drab blouse and skirt, her lank hair bundled back beneath a kerchief.

The nurserymaid.

She had tried to enlist along with Mal, albeit as the most junior of map-makers instead of a tracker as he had done, but the officer had taken one look at her narrow shoulders and short stature and told her that the Tsar appreciated her willingness to serve, but she was not suited to First Army life and would do best to stay where she was, repaying the Duke whose generosity had kept her alive. He’d spoken in the dialect used in Keramzin and hadn’t expected her to understand the remark he made to his fellow officer in proper Ravkan, that the Duke hadn’t been generous enough, the girl was as scrawny as a plucked pullet, twice as pale as a boiled parsnip, which was evidently all she’d ever been given to eat.

Alina, who had spent her every spare minute in the Duke’s dusty library, had understood him perfectly and had held her tongue, though she longed to make a retort in Suli blank verse or Skritje shastra to wipe the pitying half-smile off his face. He would never have understood her but word might get back to Ana Kuya that Alina had been disrespectful or over-bold and she’d give up her precious free hours to mending the endless pile of shirts or scrubbing out the chamber pots the children used at night. She nodded and walked back to the field where the youngest children were been barely minded by the ones old enough to feed and dress themselves. The sun was bright and she had a sudden, blinding headache which coincided with her realization that if she didn’t do something about it, she had seen the breadth and depth of her entire life and it was bounded by a clothesline filled with small, stained fraying breeches and vests which would never be quite clean no matter how vigorously Alina scrubbed them or how hot the water in the laundering vat was. Small, stained, fraying, that would be Alina herself until she died, worn out like a rag, tossed aside in a grave no one bothered to lay a flower at, Miss in fading memories and then nothing at all.

She had to do something, but her first attempt, the First Army, the maps she would have traced in properly prepared ink, not the walnut gall concoction Ana Kuya brewed, had failed and she’d been sent back. Back and not home. For Keramzin had never felt like home—that had been Mal, before he’d left, and sometimes, the sunny patch beneath the oak at the far corner of the property. She’d lie flat on her back, ignoring the roots and stones beneath her spine and hips, and feel something in her answer the sunlight’s strength before a cloud passed or a child cried out, loud enough she could not dismiss it. Alina was determined she’d find some way out or forward, but after being dismissed by the recruitment officer, she had no idea what her salvation might be.

In the meantime, there were children who needed her, all day, all night. She was not as brusque as Ana Kuya, not inclined to cuff someone who was slow to finish a task, and she didn’t shame anyone who wet the bed. She was not old enough to seem like a mother, nor did her frail frame suggest the generally agreed upon wide-hipped and buxom figure of a Ravkan matron, but as Miss, she received the love of an elder sister or spinster aunt, and as she had not been given leave to punish the orphans for any transgression, she was regarded as a protector if not a partner-in-crime. The general mild affection she was able to evoke was largely responsible for what happened during what was later referred to as the Terrible Winter, a season that began early with torrential rains that ruined half the harvest before changing to a never-ending mix of sleet and snow which kept the children indoors and the rooms dank with the scent of damp wool and the thin millet pottage they had to subsist on.

Alina, too exhausted to actually muster a sense of desperation at the children’s fractious boredom, found three Shatranj sets in the Duke’s library. They were old and worn, the pieces rudely carved, though handled long enough there would be no splinters. She and Mal had played with the good set that was laid out on a table before a window, the pieces ivory and jet, but she would not risk the punishment that would surely come if she removed it to the orphanage. The boards she’d found no one would miss. She told herself that and even when Ana Kuya finally noticed, the mistress did not scold overmuch, the tattered equipment incongruent with the Duke’s eminence. She’d said it so and Alina had not rolled her eyes. It meant she was getting accustomed to Ana Kuya and that was too fearful to contemplate.

She turned her attention to teaching the orphans the rules of the game.

If they had been better fed, they might have learned more readily, but then the machinations and stratagems required to survive Keramzin lent themselves to the comprehension of gambits and unlike in real life, someone was guaranteed a victory; they were too young and inexperienced for the outcome to ever be a draw. If the weather had improved or the snow had turned that that variety best suited to sledding and snowball fights, they might never had gotten good enough for the idea to cross Alina’s mind, but there was nothing else to occupy Bisera and Dako, Nazar and ´Zeli and from that quartet, the team was created, Alina serving as coach and opponent, Grozim willing to play whoever had lost worst, in hopes of ever getting good enough to win.

Alina had filched the few books on shatranj from the Duke’s library but soon enough, they were creating their own gambits. Or rather, she was and occasionally Bisera had an idea good enough to incorporate. The Boiled Frog was one and the Ketterdam Market, Summer Crossing helpful when the pawns were plentiful, Sankta Milena’s Blessing almost unbeatable unless countered with the Summoner’s Arm. Alina, who admitted she had too much concern for the state of the advisor’s piece, would force herself not to open every game with Hivekeeper’s Disgrace, but she could not help from smiling to herself when the victory was achieved with Midnight Sun and frowning at Zygitai’s Tears. They played match after match, using an old hourglass to time the games, the early prizes of an extra ladleful of porridge soon superseded by the win itself. The stimulation and entertainment would have been enough for them all, except that a peddler came by with his wagon of needles and jars of dried beans and figs and saw them playing, remarked they might hold their own at the regional tournament and perhaps even be asked to go to Os Alta, for the country’s grand competition, where the Grisha played on behalf of the Tsar himself.

It took far less pleading to convince Ana Kuya to allow the children to try than Alina had expected.

“The failure will be good for them,” she’d said. “They must learn their place, how to be contented here.”

Alina was not very surprised by Ana Kuya’s assumption of their imminent and conclusive failure. It didn’t even merit a shrug in response. She asked only to be allowed to find the least poorly darned cloaks and sweaters for the children to wear to the competition. As their appearance would reflect on the Duke, it was not hard to get Ana Kuya to agree.

The first round of the tournament was a rout.

Alina’s team arrived, squinted at the boards, and demolished their opponents.

The other teams were so taken aback by their defeats that they offered to pay for the evening meal for the Keramzin orphans, the rich food and local milk punch almost as wonderful as the trophy they were awarded with a small stipend to allow them to attend the next level of the competition.

Alina, who had no taste for the carved meats, honey-soaked pastries and heavily spiced drink, was gladdened most by the money and what it represented. A chance to go farther, to get out.

To leave Keramzin behind.

The second round was a bloodbath. For their challengers, who’d strutted into the hall that had been provided and took their seats as if they were Lantsovs upon their thrones, who could not imagine an arguably rag-tag assortment of orphans, however thoroughly scrubbed they were, could ever prove an obstacle in their path to victory.

There was not one draw. A slender blonde girl who wore a finely embroidered tunic and had bright silk ribbons woven through her braids, dangling over her shoulders so she might fidget with them while she contemplated her next move actually upended the board as she flounced away from the table when ´Zeli murmured Checkmate. A stolid black-haired boy who had clearly never missed a meal in his entire life kept gazing the pieces left after his defeat, his brow furrowed and something like respect evident in the way he pressed his lips together and made his left hand into a fist.

None of the other players offered to stand them dinner, but the cook in the tavern they’d lodged in put together a plentiful repast of lentil stew and fresh rye bread, some flagons of kvas, and three dishes of jam, which Nazar ate spoonfuls of without the interruption of a slice of bread or any pretense to manners.

It was after their resounding success in the third round that Alina began to believe they might actually go to the final championship in Os Alta, where the Tsar’s own team, made up of the best Grisha students of shatranj and any nobles’ heirs who could keep up would be playing. It was said the Tsar and his courtiers came to watch the play and placed bets, as if any loss could touch their coffers. It was whispered that the General of the Second Army, Kirigan himself, might be seen to observe.

Alina, who knew herself for a naïve rustic at best, did not believe for one second General Kirigan would attend the national shatranj competition. Sooner would a stone recite the evening prayer, as the saying went in Keramzin. She was so certain she didn’t bother to worry about being wrong and the night before the final round, she slept more deeply than she had for years.

In the morning, she woke as close to refreshed as she could recall being and almost had an appetite for the curd cakes and sausage that was offered to all the players in a dining room adjacent to the great hall where the matches would be played. She managed a few bites and most of a mug of strong tea she sweetened with one small spoonful of honey. She saw that her team was as neat and tidy as possible, their best clothes fit for the ragbag in the Little Palace, based on the glimpses she’d had of the Grisha players in their finely embroidered jackets, and ensured that the Keramzin orphans were all standing behind their assigned chairs in a nearly military stance, hands held clasped behind their backs, chins up. She herself stood apart where the other advisors milled about, none of them taking much notice of her which didn’t displease her. Her own appearance was at best unprepossessing, and her tension only made her sallow cheeks more pale, her lips chapped, nails bitten to the quick. 

The play was swift at first and then slowed, as the weaker teams were defeated, the losing players walking away from the tables where the boards were placed in a variety of manners—some defiant, some dejected, a few shaking their heads as if they could not believe what had just happened.

No member of the Keramzin team rose and walked away.

The play became more intense. More members of the Imperial court drifted into the room to watch and such was the reverence in which the Tsar held shatranj that only whispers and the softest muttering were heard as moves and gambits were assessed and debated.

The field narrowed. First Grozim was knocked out and then Bisera. Nazar, grinning as if he’d won. Dako, his eyes filled with tears, who bowed to Alina very formally, as if she were his patroness, as elevated as the Tsarina.

´Zeli was left, playing against the last of the opponents, a Grisha named Artem with peach fuzz on his cheeks, wearing a coat the color of a violet. He did not always use his hands to move the pieces, a bit of showman’s-ship Alina chalked up to his less effective use of gambits, an attempt to unsettle ´Zeli into an error.

For an instant, during which Alina felt as hot as if the sun had taken up residence in her chest and was burning her from the inside out, it seemed he might succeed. And then ´Zeli used the first gambit Alina had invented herself, Sashenka’s Sunbeam, and in an utterly graceful, unbroken gesture, delivered the final blow.

“Checkmate.”

There was a moment of complete silence and then a roar for which Alina had no comparison. She had never heard a tidal wave crash upon the shore nor the tumult of the cavalry overtaking an enemy. There was only the sound of her own heart, beating terribly hard, and then a sudden dizziness, as if she might faint. She felt a hand at her elbow, steadying her, a man’s low voice murmuring Have a care before she could turn to face him.

There was no one next to her and then, the orphans for Keramzin swarmed her, their joy animate, as potent as the powers the Grisha wielded. They laughed and shouted, talking over each other, recounting their victories and losses with equal glad abandon and Alina could not deny that it was a relief when one of the Grisha, a tall, hatchet-faced man in a crimson coat which somehow looked finer than any of the others she’d seen, approached her and without introducing himself, announced that the General wished to meet with her, as she had done the impossible, defeating his star Grisha player.

Alina nodded and quickly told her team to go to the dining room for the victory feast and not to shame her or despite their achievement, she would write to Ana Kuya that very night to have them all sent home on the next available Crossing. She then followed the laconic Grisha who could only be the attaché to General Kirigan to a private room whose door she would never have noticed.

The General, whom she could never imagine referring to as simply Kirigan, was sitting on the far side of a table with a shatranj board on it, each square enameled and all the pieces exquisitely carved from jet and a cloudy white stone she had no name for. He rose as she entered the room, following the old ways, at least according to what Ana Kuya had told them. He wore a jacket of a black silk dark as a moonless night, the same hue as his hair and when she dared to look at him directly, craning her neck a bit, his eyes. He appeared serious rather than punitive and then his lips curved slightly, in what must be a smile.

“I would ask you for a match, if you are not still overset,” he said, his voice one she recognized, the man who’d kept her from stumbling. “I am Kirigan. General of the Second Army.”

“I know who you are,” she said. He waited and she realized she hadn’t agreed to play. She sat down, studying the board. He’d offered her the white pieces, had placed himself behind the jet.

“I’m Alina Starkov. Of Keramzin,” she said.

“I didn’t know the Duke had a daughter. Or a niece,” he said.

“I don’t think he does,” Alina replied. She moved a piece forward, not yet having decided which gambit to open with, choosing a piece that gave her the time to evaluate the General’s style. “I’m one of the orphans his estate supports. No one special.”

“You created the majority of the strategies your players employed I think. I haven’t seen them before and I’ve played since I was a boy,” he said. He moved a piece with the sort of confidence that suggested he’d rarely been bested. “It’s special, to have a mind constructed to see such…possibilities. To engineer their execution.”

She reached out to move the next piece, a tower, and her sleeve fell back, revealing her wrist.

“The Duke ought to support you more generously. You’re skin and bones,” he said, glancing up at her face and examining her intently. “You’ve gone hungry—have you been ill?”

“There’s plenty to eat, even if it’s a bit dull. I’ve never had much appetite,” she said.

“You can’t be more than twenty. If you haven’t had an appetite, you’ve been ill, perhaps so long you can’t remember being well,” he said. He moved another piece, the shape of his attack becoming perceptible, the way a creature might come forth from the shadows.

“Perhaps,” she said. She looked at the board and decided she would employ Stag’s Wisdom, moving her rider definitively, then letting her hand hover above the piece for the heartbeat.

That was when General Kirigan grasped her wrist, his lips parted in the beginning of a remark, shock evident in his silence, the sudden blankness in his dark eyes.

“Who are you?” he said, very softly, after regaining something like composure.

Alina had lost hers, but knew better than to let it show, assuming she had any ability to fool the General.

“I told you, I’m Alina Starkov, I’m an orphan. I’m nobody,” she said.

“You are either lying or you have been deceived yourself,” he said. He slid a heavy silver ring from his smallest finger, placing upon his thumb. She saw it was crafted as a talon, the tip sharp enough to draw blood. “I would know the truth,” he said, the talon poised a hairbreadth from her skin, waiting for her to respond.

He wanted her consent.

She thought of the pain that led to the scar on her palm, the way she’d drawn the shard across her hand, that bright instant of agony. She thought of how the scar felt now, like nothing at all.

She nodded.

The claw tore.

The room was flooded with light, the brilliance of high noon at the summer solstice. She would have closed her eyes but she couldn’t. She could only choke back the cry she’d almost uttered, in her mouth the taste of honey, the giddy intoxication of medovukha that she’d once sipped at a feast-day.

“You are Grisha. The Sun Summoner,” General Kirigan said. He sounded astonished, exalted. He looked at her as if she were precious. “I’ve waited so long—"

“General—”

“Aleksander,” he interrupted. “Call me Aleksander.”

“I feel odd. Ill,” Alina said. He fumbled the heavy ring off his thumb, let it sit on the board like another piece, and traced his forefinger along the bloodless wound. He closed his eyes and hummed, some fragment of melody she could not place. She felt a soothing warmth where he touched her and then surging through her.

“You’re very ill. It’s a miracle you’re alive,” he said. His eyes gleamed and she realized they’d filled with tears, though she wasn’t sure of the emotion behind them. “You were not tested as a child?”

“The Grisha came to Keramzin. I—we hid. When they came to test us. I cut my hand so they couldn’t tell when they found me. I was afraid,” she said. “I didn’t want to be left behind. Or taken.”

“You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone,” he said. He turned his head, barked out a demand, “Ivan! To me, now!” his voice that of the battlefield commander. He let go of her wrist and put the ring back on. Alina felt cold, too cold to even shiver, the chill of the stone that froze, not the snow that fell.

She guessed Ivan had not been that far away, given how swiftly he arrived. 

“Fetch Liucija and Svilen, tell them it is urgent. Tell them it is the worst case of wasting sickness I have ever seen, tell them to send a stretcher and a Heartrender with a gentle touch, she won’t tolerate much—"

“Moi soverenyi?”

Alina would have laughed at how confused Ivan sounded, despite his effort at formal obedience, if her head had not begun to ache horribly and the small of her back, her hips. Her knees. Every joint in her hand ready to break.

“Miss Starkov is Grisha. She is the Sun Summoner,” General Kirigan said. She could not call him Aleksander, not even to herself. Not yet. “I will not lose her—”

“Of course, moi soverenyi. I’ll send Fedyor, he’s in the great hall,” Ivan said and moved so quickly it seemed he did something other than running.

Alina took a deep breath. It felt like a blow and her hand, resting on the shatranj board, trembled, knocking over the queen. General Kirigan got up from his chair and came beside her, crouching over her. He was so tall he still loomed above her or that was how it seemed to her.

“It won’t be long,” he said.

“No. I don’t think—I’m so tired and my head hurts, it hurts—” she broke off, her vision dimming.

“Blessed Mokosh have mercy,” he ground out, but though the words suggested supplication, his tone was that of a man cursing in desperation. She felt his hand at her cheek and then at her throat, light, with a tenderness she’d never experienced before. “There’s not enough time—”

He leaned over and picked her up in his arms, adjusting her so her face as nestled against his breast, the steady beat of his heart like a tether. 

“I’ve got you, moya golubka, stay with me now,” he said, holding her very close. She felt a delicate warmth and it eased the pain a little. “Rest a while, I’ll be there when you wake.”

*

Alina woke up, her cheek pillowed on her forearm, shadows beginning to collect in the corners of the room. She expected her head to throb but realized that other than the crook of her elbow, nothing about her body hurt. In fact, she felt quite well, refreshed to a degree she couldn’t recall.

There was, however, some drool drying at the corner of her mouth.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice said. “All this time and I haven’t devised a way to prevent some mildly embarrassing consequences.”

“I don’t understand,” Alina said, sitting up and blinking. She cleared her throat. She’d sounded like a frog croaking and what would General Kirigan think—

Not General Kirigan. Aleksander. 

What would Aleksander think? Where was he, where was Liucija and the whitewashed hospital wing…

“I’m in the Library,” Alina said, the warm hue of the leather-bound books on the walnut shelves resolving into detail. Togtuun, as was their wont, was not seated directly across from Alina but remained at an oblique angle, leaning back against their massive desk whose wood was the same color as Togtuun’s kefta. “I was reviewing that manuscript from Fjerda, I fell asleep.”

“You dreamed,” Togtuun said. It was uttered as a correction, not hazarded as a guess. 

“You made me dream,” Alina said, unsure if it was a question she was asking. If she truly wanted an answer.

“It was necessary,” Togtuun said. “Those are the only dreams I can call forth in the dreamer, the ones they need to dream. To reflect upon—”

“You made me fall asleep. You entered my mind and, and…mucked about,” Alina said.

“Mucked about? Your mind is a stall in the stable? Really, Alina, there was nothing clumsy about it,” Togtuun replied with what was possibly pique, an emotion Alina would not have imagined Togtuun feeling. “And I believe you might be called to account for how you behaved with Aleksander, if you will take umbrage at my intervention. You might have awoken at any time you chose. You dreamt as long as you wished.”

“How can I argue with you? You have powers I don’t understand to any degree and you’ve lived far longer than I have.”

“Just so,” Togtuun said. “Was it so terrible a dream?”

“Don’t you know?”

“You’re deflecting,” Togtuun said.

“Perhaps I’m trying to grasp how present you were, are, within my mind. Perhaps I want to know if you saw everything, if you controlled everything,” Alina said.

“If I controlled everything, how much simpler would life be! And how much greater would the funding for the Library be as a percentage of the total Little Palace budget, though not at the cost of yet more herring on the menu for the younglings. I should have that collection from Samarkkant for the third archive and David might have completed that project for the portable heating device, so that I could have hot tea whenever I liked,” Togtuun said.

“What was I supposed to learn then?”

Togtuun smiled.

“You know that is not something I can answer,” they said.

“How about this then. Does Aleksander know what you can do?” Alina asked.

“He knows as much as he may,” Togtuun said.

Alina made a sort-of harrumphing sound of irritation.

“You want guidance. Keep a dream journal. Begin with this experience. Start now. Don’t edit,” Togtuun said and walked away into the stacks. Alina harrumphed again, because it was beyond irritating how silently the Librarian could walk and disappear.

“Fine,” she said to the receding back of Togtuun, “Fine,” she muttered to herself, opening the new folio embossed with her initials that had been placed right next to the elbow she’d been sleeping on. Togtuun didn’t miss a trick. She went to untie the leather cords keeping it closed and something caught her eye.

At her wrist, a scar, slightly raised, faintly golden, the color her skin turned when she’d been out in the sun all day. Where dream-Kirigan had cut her, where he’d healed her. 

The only thing keeping Alina from screaming in terror was the vivid memory of how good it had felt when he had used his power to mend the wound.

She did yelp a bit.

And then she started writing. It was the first day of December…

[orange-s-mario]

Bomberman Mounts & Charaboms

(the creatures are riding the mounts) (Super Bomberman 2)

Louies (Bomberman '94)

Motobomber (Bomberman GB)

Louies (Super Bomberman 3)

Mounts (Virtual Bomber); From Left to Right: Launcher Armor, Deebo, Rick, Nyanjirou, Lock-On Armor

Super Bomberman 4 Mounts Organics (Trikeradops, Angora, Swim, Haguhagu, Crazy Balloon, Bobo) Mechanical (Ponpon, Dogun Jr, Daruman, Pakkunga, Bomb Tank, Gamefry, Dancing Clown)

Tirras + Bonus Kepo & Dr. Ein (Saturn Bomberman)

Motobomber Mk. 1-4 (Bomberman GB 3)

Super Bomberman 5 Louies (Top to Bottom, then left to right): Kerooi, Gyarooi, Hanerooi, Magicarooi, Marooi, Nagurooi, Warooi

Neo Bomberman Mounts: Organic: Dachon, Torisan, Ombu, Tamagon, Baketama Mechanical: Dokyuun, Gaikottsu, Charge, Nucha, Ridge-Razor

White Horse (Saturn Bomberman Fight)

Bomberman World Mounts (Teebo, Launcher Armor, Rick, Nyanjirou, Rick, Lock-On Armor)

Bomber Dragon & Bomber Cerebus (Bomberman Wars)

Louie (Bomberman Hero)

Bomberman Fantasy Race Louies & Tirras: Louies (Green Louie, Hopping Louie, Tri-Louie, Soaring Louie, Hyper Louie, Black Louie) Tirras (Tirra, Brave Tirra, Flying Tirra, Mighty Tirra, Super Tirra, King Tirra)

Bomberman Party Edition Mounts (Louies, Pytera, Simeon, Drakko, Kai-Man, Dox)

Pommy (Bomberman 64: The Second Attack)

Bomberman Max Charaboms (Left to Right, Top to Bottom, Image per Image): Draco, Kai-Man, Pommy, Elephan, Seadran, Marine-Eel, Knuckle Pommy, Panther Fang, Twin Dragon, Sea Balloon, Animal Pommy, Big Ox, Pteradon, Sharkun, Hammer Pommy, Unicornos, Iron Dragon, Iron Squid, Beast Pommy, Mecha Kong, Aqua Dragon, Pommy Dragon, Thunder Kong, Thunder Shark, Rock Snakey, Fire Force, Shardra, Ox Battra, Heat Rock, Oct Kong)

Bomberman Tournament Charaboms (Top to Bottom Left to Right, Image per Image): Pommy, Seadran, Elephan, Sharkun, Kai-Man, Twin Dragon, Knuckle Pommy, ToughGuy, Beast Pommy, Pteradon, Draco, Unicornos, Sea Balloon, Animal Pommy, Marine-Eel, Youni, Pommy Fangs, Pommy Sea, Pommy Dragon, Seawing, Maringon, Fire Kong, Thunder Liger, Elekong, Kameking)

Bomberman Max 2 Charaboms (2d Art, Left to Right): Draco (+ Max), Pommy (+ Bomberman), Draco, Elephan, Twin Dragon, Youni, Sharkun, Big Ox

Bomberman Max 2 Charaboms (Sprites, Left to Right): Draco, Seadran, Twin Dragon, Pteradon, Stegodon, Sea Balloon, Sharkun, Kai-Man, Seapony, Anglar, Pommy, Pommy Claw, Animal Pommy, Pommy Hen, Beast Pommy, Elephan, Rhinon, Youni, ToughGuy, Big Ox, Shargon, Pommy Dragon, Pommy Fangs, Sparkun, Rhinaus, Elephandon, Kameking, Thunder Liger, FlyShark, Elemouse

Bomberman Generation Charaboms (Top to Bottom, Left to Right): Stegodon, Draco, Pteradon, Anglar, Marine-Eel, Kai-Man, Beast Pommy, Nox/Pokes, Pommy, Ligon, Unicornos, Big Ox, Angol, Pommy Dragon, Pomyugar, Lai-Eel, Fire Horn)

Bomberman Jetters: Legend of Bomberman Charaboms: (Elifphu, Elipha, Eliphan, Big Elephan, Pan, Panther, Panther Fang, Rapid Panther, Eel, Sheel, Marine-Eel, Dra, Drac, Draco, Dracon, Great Eel, Budu, Ptera, Pteradon, Pteragudon, Popo, Poke, Nox/Pokes, Elks, Pommy, Fly Pommy, Wind Pommy, Angel Pommy, Kai-Man, Songuru-Man, Twinkai-Man, Torpedo-Man)

Bomberman Jetters (Game) Charaboms (Manual Artwork): Sharkun, Nox, Pommy, Pommy, Dragon, Seadran, & Draco (+ evos)

Bomberman Jetters (Game) Charaboms (sprites): Sharkun, Sparkun, Kai-Man, Pommy, Nox, Pommy Dragon, Seadran, Draco, Elephan, ToughGuy, & Unicornos (+ Evos)

[tourneyposting]

IT'S SO FUCKING PEAK OH MY GOD

[pugosixtyfour]

MAN i got some awesome pics this month playing vrc not gonna lie lol

[arcthebreeder]

Log_51.TXT

03/08/2024, 23:08 (GMT-5)

Due to personal complications, the fight had to be postponed a few hours, and it was held passed 23:40, and it... Did not went well.

As I was connecting to the VC, I recognized the voice of one of the contendants, it was Herissmon's ex-tamer. This is something pretty common, the same people tend to participate in tournaments until they win, so coinciding with him on another tournament wouldn't be a surprise, tho having to face him again and this time with Stiffilmon was something I didn't expected at all.

Apparently the guy changed his username recently, that's why I didn't recognize him, his... Unusual pair of Lavogaritamon and WereGarurumon wasn't in line at all with the pair he used last time (Hexeblaumon and "Rasenmom") tho they were almost as strong as the first ones I faced.

The guy pointed out that the Stiffilmon I had was originally "his property" which is, at the very least, a pretty low kick, I would say it's even lower having a WereGarurumon on him since he's facing Stiffilmon, tho I can't say it's on purpose so I can't really put that on him. Whatever the case is, the battle was... Pretty violent.

Aside from the toxic taunting from both WereGarurumon and its tamer, the battle began with Lavogaritamon's Wild Blast, causing explosions that made my digimon blast off, and sending WereGarurumon up into the sky to attack Stiffilmon with the Kaiser Nail, however, it was received with a discharge coming from Stiffilmon's spiky fur, followed by Helloogarmon's Inferno Claw, which was rapidly comboed with the Vermillion Vortex, immobilizing WereGarurumon, as a try to recover his partner, Lavogaritamon flew in Stiffilmon's direction, being stopped by the Hati Embrace, which threw it against the Vermillion Vortex too, thus allowing Helloogarmon to send a Howling Burst, at the three digimon, while Stiffilmon was preparing herself to perform the Giga Crimson Dive in one place and create a big fire tornado that would burn the two digimon, but on that moment, Lavogaritamon used the Merudainā, a heat laser that came out of its mouth, to break the trajectory of the Howling Burst, taking both of my Digimon by surprise and freeing them from the Vermillion Vortex.

In the middle of the air, Lavogaritamon prepared another Merudainā, and when it shot it, WereGarurumon followed it with the Engetsugeri, to expand the radius of the laser beam, in the end tho, it only got to Stiffilmon, which made her burst with rage, charging against WereGarurumon specifically, I thought this could be a normal reaction to WereGarurumon's move but... Stiffilmon was out of her mind, I admit I had to take more attention, but I was too engaged in the fight to actually have the will to stop it, so I just kept on encouraging her, so you could say what happened next was my fault.

The rival Tamer began mocking how easily Stiffilmon was knocked down, and tho he complemented the fact that I trained her well, he still mocked how she wasn't as strong as WereGarurumon, and if we got the advantage at the beginning of the fight it was just because he left us this to make us feel miserable afterwards Stiffilmon... Didn't take this well, she began attacking WereGarurumon nonstop, from that point forward, everything went on a downward spiral... Quite literally Stiffilmon got surrounded by Spirals, that probably took her fur as a place to stay without us knowing, and began swirling around her, and then she began growing, she was Evolving.

This evolution, being influenced by the natural morbid feelings that inhabit Spirals, ended up turning her into Rasenmon Fury Mode, a Digimon purely made of rage and resentment that rampaged against both Lavogaritamon and WereGarurumon using the Desperate Vortex with her back tails, and then threatening to use Predator's Bite to devourer their DigiCore, an act that would end on their death... So I had to send Helloogarmon to act and change into Soloogarmon.

The referee couldn't do anything but watch as my two beasts caught each other, with a constant fight between the Prominence Laser and the Desperate Vortex to see who would end up victorious, with Rasenmon Fury Mode's claws and drills constantly clashing against the Vánagandr, Soloogarmon tried to keep her as centred on him as possible, since if she saw my opponent's digimon, they would perish instantly, but at the same time, he had to keep a fair distance, since the nearer she was, the safest she would feel to throw a Predator's Bite, Rasenmon felt close enough to charge at Soloogarmon once and eat his DigiCore, but the Skröll Rage was enough to keep her at a safe distance, in the end, another participant was authorized to enter with her Lotusmon and put my now Rasenmon to sleep, and I was disqualified from the tournament due to my digimon's misconduct and my opponent was too because his toxic behavior was what caused all of this to begin with.

Now I have another uncontrollable digimon in my hands, but this one is being influenced by external programs that infected her data so I don't know if a seal program similar to Helloogarmon's could work, but... I'll need to figure that out later I'm... Too tired rn.

I'll keep you updated.

ATT: ARC

[bestfakesonicshowdown]

Round 1, Poll 4

The Virtual Hedgehogs (left) are robot duplicates of Sonic created by Eggman in Sonic Colors. They come in several different colors, and look similar to Sonic, though they have some visible metal parts and round antennae

Mecha Sonic (right), also known as Silver Sonic is a robotic Sonic double first appearing in the 8-bit version of Sonic the Hedgehog 2. They are just a silly and goofy looking guy! They should not be confused with other Mecha Sonics also in this tounament

[galavant-song-tournament]

OK I have come up with a bracket! Overwhelming majority favoured mashing all the Moments In the Sun together and it turns out when we do that we get 64 songs so that's super convenient. The two preliminary polls were set to run for a week but I did that because I had no idea how long this blog would take to find its audience (seems to have happened rather fast? thanks to everyone for sharing!) I'm then also putting six of the Galavant reprises against each other in the first round but they'll be against other songs in the second. I've filled out the bracket with all my predictions but I won't share that until the end. I'll share the bracket in a separate post and then make the polls in maybe a few days, not sure exactly when.

[ygo-monster-type-tournament]

Round 1b, Match 13: Kaiju vs. Virtual World vs. Synchro Dragon

Gameciel, the Sea Turtle Kaiju // Virtual World Kyubi - Shenshen // Crystal Clear Wing Synchro Dragon

[fr4gtpgaming]

Sometimes when I’m bored, I hop in low level maps and just completely slaughter everything in sight while the Unreal Tournament announcer plays in my head 🤣

[affablyevilshowdown]

update on "i'm voting for von karma because of the rtgame cover of you're welcome": please help me my mind is full of lawyers

There is no help to be had. Head full of lawyers is the natural state :3

[mattapparentlystumbltourneys]

BRACKET REVEAL

Alright. At long last, I present to you the bracket...or should I say...*BRACKETS* for the Virtual Character Tournament!

Given the scale, the first round is going to be one bracket per week, 4 a day, with each lasting 24 hours. I know that this is still tight, but given how many contestants there are, along with the necessary inclusions of images and propaganda (oh and I guess also my job), it's what I can do to keep this semi-manageable. There's also no redemption round this time. It's gonna be a single elimination tournament. Be kind to your peers. This is not but a drop in the infinite ocean of the internet.

...oh yeah the brackets themselves. We'll be going in order over the course of 4 weeks. I'll make proper announcements for them as they commence. Given how many there are and what I want to get done beforehand, Bracket 1 will likely begin some time this week. But for the matchups...

Bracket 1:

Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid) vs. Elohim (The Talos Principle)

Flame (Yu-Gi-Oh! VRains) vs. The Supervisor/Mouthless (Tenkuu Shinpan)

XANA (Code Lyoko) vs. MetalMan.EXE (Mega Man Battle Network)

9-Jack-9 (Zot!) vs Poppy Pipopapo (Kamen Rider Ex Aid)

Sage (Sonic Frontiers) vs Mektryllis (Fate/Extra CCC)

Dot Matrix (Reboot) vs V Flower (Vocaloid)

Wizardmon (Digimon) vs Delta (Red Vs. Blue)

Sora (Ever17) vs Kasane Teto (UTAU)

The Doctor/EMH (Star Trek Voyager) vs Crash (Awful Hospital)

Burroughs (Shin Megami Tensei IV) vs Quorra (Tron Legacy)

The Machine (Person of Interest) vs The Rocket Dex (Pokemon)

P03 (Inscription) vs. M.X.E.S (FNAF Security Breach: Ruins)

Hakuno Kishinami (Fate/EXTRA) vs Data Riku (Kingdom Hearts)

Samaritan (Person of Interest) vs ART (The Murderbot Diaries)

Cortana (Halo) vs M-Bot (Skyward)

Mitsuko Miyazumi (Archer) vs Ritsu (Assassination Classroom)

Bracket B:

Ene (Kagerou Project) vs The Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe)

Amadeus (Steins; Gate 0) vs D.O.M (The Adventure Zone)

AM (I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream) vs Theo (Meta Runner)

Colonel.EXE (Mega Man Battle Network) vs Daia (Kiratto PriChan)

Agumon (Digimon) vs The Bobbiedots (FNAF Fazbear Frights)

Felix the Desktop Cat (Real Life) vs SHODAN (System Shock)

MegaMan.EXE (Mega Man Battle Network) vs Church (Red vs. Blue)

Shepherd (ENA) vs Dr. Coomer (Half Life VR But the AI is Self-Aware)

Sophie/Sophia (Persona 5 Strikers) vs Dizzy (Beyblade)

Miss J/SCP 5094 (SCP) vs Ultraman X (Ultraman X)

SAYU (No Straight Roads) vs Falulu (Pripara)

Incarceron (Incarceron) vs Benry (Half Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware)

Lea (Crosscode) vs Kiracchu (Kiratto PriChan)

Dragon (Prahumans) vs Murder-Bot 2.0 (The Murderbot Diaries)

Ai (Yu-Gi-Oh! VRains) vs Glitch Slime (Slime Rancher)

Eris (Wolf 359) vs Monika (Doki Doki Literature Club)

Bracket III:

Hera (Wolf 359) vs Shin AI (Your Turn to Die)

Alba (Star Twinkle Pretty Cure) vs The Denpa Men (The Denpa Men)

Guy (Free Guy) vs EDI (Mass Effect)

Aetna (Lore Olympus) vs Yui (Sword Art Online)

Nicole the Holo-Lynx (Archie Sonic) vs Gabumon (Digimon)

Jacqueline Box (Pripara) vs Mamechi (Tamagotchi)

Vanellope von Shweetz (Wreck-It Ralph) vs Cleverbot (Real Life)

The Phantom Virus (Scooby-Doo) vs Chiaki Nanami (Danganronpa)

Alter Ego (Danganronpa) vs Digit (Cyberchase)

Simulcast (Reflection TTRPG) vs SARA (Toonami)

Lumina Ichihoshi (Dig Delight Direct Drive DJ) vs The World Machine (OneShot)

Rumble McSkirmish (Gravity Falls) vs Holly (Red Dwarf)

HAL 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey) vs Samantha (Her)

PAMA (Minecraft Story Mode) vs Noah Kaiba (Yu-Gi-Oh!)

Agent Smith (The Matrix) vs O.R.C.A (Splatoon)

Spunc (Alpha Betas) vs Porygon (Pokemon)

Bracket Delta:

GIFanny (Gravity Falls) vs Coco (Aikatsu Friends)

Vic Fontaine (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine) vs Red One (The Last Angel)

Glitchtrap (FNAF Help Wanted) vs Holo (My Holo Love)

Avina (Mass Effect) vs Light Hope (She-Ra)

Motherboard (Cyberchase) vs Aya (Green Lantern: The Animated Series)

Bonzi Buddy (Real Life) vs Tama (AI The Somnium Files)

Dragon (Worm) vs Bip (Runway to the Stars)

Failsafe (Destiny) vs J.A.R.V.I.S (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Aiba (AI: The Somnium Files) vs CanHaz (DC Comics)

SAYER (SAYER) vs Fey (Welcome to Night Vale)

Buddy (Buddy Simulator 1984) vs Ziggy (Quantum Leap)

Maggy (Hellspark) vs The Squip (Be More Chill)

Lyla (Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse) vs Durandal (Marathon)

Beta Jay 137 (Ninjago) vs Zero III (Zero Escape: Virtue's Last Reward)

Sergey Ushanka (The Magnus Archines) vs Demetra (Spy Kids 3: GAME OVER)

Alie (The 100) vs Lil' Hal (Homestuck)

As always, thank you for bearing with me during this long and arduous process. Sorry for the hassle, and be prepared, as it is almost upon us.

[opal-apples]

doing a virtual speech tournament. the agony is immeasurable

[superhero-showdown]

@virtual-singers-heroes (qont ket me ping wtf) vs @ultimate-superduperhero-saki

[granhairdo]

my brother got a ps5 for christmas and is letting me use it when he’s not and im not a gamer or anything but i can kick ass on powerwash simulator and life with horses: my horse farm

[v2-club]

Embark on an epic adventure! Click the link below to download the game on Google Play and dive into a world of strategic battles, stunning graphics, and global competition. Unleash your inner hero now!

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