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thebibliomancer · 3 years

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Essential Avengers: West Coast Avengers #2: “BLANKING OUT!”

October, 1984

"Up Against the BLANK!”

Beware his crosshatching!

So the formation of the West Coast Avengers continues! I guess! It looks like Tigra, Wonder Man, and Iron Man stuck around at least long enough to be on this cover.

We’ll see if the prospect of being on a team led by Hawkeye manages to win them over.

So last time on West Coast Avengers: Hawkeye was sent by the Vision to create an All-New All-Different Avengers team on the West Coast. A kind of West Coast Avengers. Like the Avengers but in LA.

Vision sent out invites to Wonder Man, Tigra, and Rhodey Iron Man but didn’t tell them what they were being invited for. Leading to not only some hesitance to commit once they learned what was what but also Tigra’s friend the Shroud following her to the LA Avengers Compound because the vague invite worried Tigra’s other friend Jessica Drew. Phew.

The Shroud puts up such a great fight when the hypothetical West Coast Avengers attack him (assuming that some dude breaking in is up to something) that Hawkeye offers him the open spot on the team but Shroud turns it down.

By this point in the East Coast Avengers’ history, depending on where you count it starting, they either got punked by Loki or by a Space Phantom. So, the West Coast Avengers aren’t actually doing so bad, even though they’re not technically officially a team yet.

Its all a matter of perspective.

Huh. We’re like ten years too early for Iron Man to be trying to kill everyone.

To kinda spoil the game early, this is a training exercise.

Hawkeye is attempting to prove a point that Captain America told him “with the proper teamwork, even the strongest opponent can be beaten!”

It gets back to the Avengers’ whole Earth’s mightiest heroes banding together to fight the foes no single hero can overcome thing. It’s a sales pitch for why these reluctant West Coasts should Avenger.

And even given that Iron Man far outmuscles Hawkeye, Mockingbird, and Tigra, teamwork and skill does prove capable of bringing him down. Kinda.

Hawkeye uses some smokescreen arrows to try to cloud Iron Man’s vision but he has infrared lenses. He tries to tackle Tigra but she outmaneuvers him and jumps on his back. Distracting him so Mockingbird can bonk him in the head with her staves and Hawkeye can gum up Iron Man’s boot jets.

Its good teamwork but while Hawkeye is explaining that it’s good teamwork, Iron Man repulsors the ground and knocks the other three on their asses to demonstrate another important lesson.

Iron Man: “Never count your enemy out, until you’re sure he’s really out!”

Although. This WAS a training exercise.

While you raise a good point, Rhodey, surely you didn’t want them to break your armor or knock you out for a training exercise?

Anyway, after the exercise is over, Hawkeye tells Iron Man (James Rhodes) that it reminds him of when they used to go at it (back when Hawkeye was an accidental villain) and Rhodey Iron Man just awkwardly says that he’s glad they’re buds now. Because THIS IS EXACTLY WHY HE QUIT THE AVENGERS IN THE FIRST PLACE!

Having to awkwardly tip toe around not being the original guy!

But on the other hand, he liked working with the Avengers in Secret Wars, which made him reconsider the team thing. While he doesn’t want to lean on someone else’s reputation, he also doesn’t want to be treated like an amateur. So awkward it is.

Hawkeye tells Iron Man maybe don’t knock him on his ass so hard next time.

I do love Clint and Bobbi’s relationship. They’re delightful.

While Rhodey is rethinking his reluctance to Avenge, Tigra isn’t. This training exercise about how weaker heroes can team up to bring down a stronger opponent is not landing.

Tigra: I’ll bet Iron Man could have blown us away whenever he felt like it... He was probably just toying with us during the whole workout! I’m not anywhere near being in his league... Why did I let Hawkeye talk me into joining his new Avengers team?

There’s always one person on the Avengers whose whole thing is insecurity and the West Coast Avengers is practically full of them. Hawkeye, Wonder Man, Tigra have all served that role in the past. Mockingbird is worrying that she doesn’t belong.

I’d rather Tigra stuck with the insecurity rather than what she gets when West Coast Avengers gets an ongoing...

Anyway, over at Simon Williams, Wonder Stuntman’s house, he’s packing up his house to move to Avengers compound.

Since the house was prefab and pretty shoddily built, the whole wall swings up like a garage door so Simon can just pull all his possessions out and put them in a big crate.

Simon’s good stuntman pal Freddy asks if Simon is really going to go back to the superhero life.

Wonder Man: “Freddy, for good or bad, Wonder Man is what I am! It’s taken me awhile to become comfortable with that. But I finally have. And you know, I think being a stuntman these last few months helped! Doing stunt work day after day has really given me a sense of my own worth. You and the rest of the stunt crews helped me find a new life... I owe you a lot! But I also owe the Avengers! When Hawkeye offered me an active role in the Avengers new west coast expansion team, I surprised myself by signing on. I guess what I’m saying is that the Avengers is part of my life, too. And I found myself missing it more than I’d expected!”

Good for you, you waffling man. But you’d better be careful you don’t end up in a Hank Pym spiral where you bounce between your superhero and civilian lives and don’t find satisfaction in half assing either. Find yourself a good work life balance.

Anyway, Simon doesn’t plan to quit the stunt work. He’s going to try to juggle it and the Avengers.

Now that I’m not sure he’ll manage. Movies and super-heroics both have demanding schedules without set hours.

Simon and Freddy take a break to go buy more nails at the hardware store for Simon to hammer in with his bare hands. But on their way, they hear an alarm at the bank.

Crosshatch man from the cover is robbing the bank, just casually strolling out with a bag of money while bullets bounce off of him.

The Blank: “I have a gun too! And it doesn’t shoot blanks! Hah-haha-ha!!”

I’ve long held that the unspoken rule in comics book is that one of the first things someone shouts about you becomes your name.

Just ask poor Ben Grimm, the Thing.

So when a random person shouts that the bank robber is blank, the robber is like ‘huh, that’s catchy!’

Anyway, the robber confidently strolls out of the bank and right into Simon Wonder Man Williams.

The Blank shoots his gun at Simon and to his dismay finds out that he’s not the only one who bullets bounce off of.

Then Simon punches the guy twenty feet back INTO the bank.

The Blank woozily proclaims that Wonder Man can’t stop the Blank so Wonder Man just kinda picks him up and tucks him under arm. Although the Blank does manage to pistol whip the sunglasses right off of Simon’s face.

Doesn’t hurt him but it does freak everyone in the bank out.

Dunno if you remember but due to being reborn as an energy being, Simon’s eyes are red and full of kirby krackle. He can turn it off if he concentrates but he prefers to wear the glasses.

And while Simon is telling the people in the bank that there’s no need to panic on his account, the Blank slips right out of his grip and jumps through the window.

When Simon comes out to the street, he finds that the Blank has somehow managed to disappear into the crowd, despite being a screentone man.

Probably because the Blank just turned the effect off and pretended to be a Perfectly Normal Man on the Street.

Sneaky.

The guy returns to his apartment and yuks it up at the news report about him making a clean getaway, police baffled.

The Blank: “After a lifetime of bad breaks, Lady Luck has finally smiled on me! Hah-ha! And to think I owe it to lousy bus service...”

So this origin is a lot. And its amazing.

In the Blank’s flashback, he’s waiting at the bus stop for a late bus when an ex-employee of Stark International who quit when Stane took over the company shows up and starts complaining about the bus service. And then smoothly shifts to complaining about his old job.

Very annoyed scientist: “If it’s not one thing it’s another! But it’s no wonder the world’s in the shape it’s in... Not with the quality of management today! They’re idiots... all idiots!”

He tells this random guy he doesn’t know that when he quit, he took his newest invention with him.

Very annoyed scientist: “I put too much work into my brainchild to let that leech Stane get it! I’m going into business for myself!”

And then, as he’s boasting that he’ll be rich enough to buy and sell Stane in a year, the very annoyed scientist walks into the street without looking and gets hit by a car.

The very annoyed scientist’s briefcase lands right at the pre-Blank’s feet who definitely doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. So he took it home and after a few months figured out how to operate the invention: a slippery force-field.

Back in the present, he charges the force field belt up and then heads off after a big score. Not noticing a man shaped cloud of energy coming out of the charger pleading for more energy.

Huh.

Weird.

Over at Avengers Compound, the West Coast Avengers are assembled. Hawkeye has gotten the go-ahead of the LAPD to take this Blank case but Wonder Man insists that the Avengers can find him but he’s going to make the collar.

Yup, Simon has gotten a bug in his collar about letting the guy get away.

Wonder Man: “I had him in my hands, and he slipped right through them! What good am I to the Avengers if I can’t handle one gimmicky bank robber by myself?”

Hawkeye: “No good at all, if you worry more about personal performance than you do about how you work as part of this team! What do you want to do, search all of Greater L.A. on your own? That’s crazy!”

Geez, Wonder Man. That’s how gimmick criminals are supposed to work. Its not a gimmick if you beat it in the first encounter. The gimmick trips you up at the beginning of the story so you look like a smarty for figuring it out for the resolution.

The other Avengers chime in a plan divide the city into sections and each search that section. And whoever finds him will call the others.

Wonder Man admits that the plan makes a lot of sense and storms off in a fit of ‘WHAT A REASONABLE SUGGESTION, GOODNIGHT.’

Mockingbird: “Well, hotshot, you just weathered your first leadership crisis. Why the thoughtful look?”

Hawkeye: “I was just remembering how I used to be the one who always blew his stack. Honey, all of a sudden I feel old... real old!”

Hah!

You’ve wanted this for years Hawkeye. AND you’ve built up a lot of lets say debt with the universe by being a jerk about it at times.

Although, Wonder Man isn’t really a great Hawkeye. He’s pretty mellow most of the time. Of the people I expected to get a random obsession with a not very dangerous criminal, it wasn’t Wonder Man.

He has always had a streak of insecurity (which is the secret ingredient when making a Hawkeye) and not being able to stop this guy right when he was feeling good and ready to superhero again. A real situational case.

But Tigra is the one feeling the insecurity the hardest so I’m afraid you’ll need another character beat, Simon. Hothead is available.

So the West Coast Avengers split up and patrol different parts of the urban sprawl. Tigra lurks the rooftops of Chinatown, Iron Man scans the area around the Santa Monica Mountains, Hawkeye flies above the high-rises of Marina Del Rey on his skycycle, Mockingbird cruises L.A.’s freeways in her custom pink convertible, Wonder Man hangs out on the L.A. City Hall in the downtown searching by binoculars, and I learn what the different bits of L.A. are.

Productive night for everyone.

But over in Inglewood, the Blank prepares for his Big Job.

He’s going to heist a Wells Fargo armored car.

Wait, would an armored car be a bigger heist than robbing an actual bank??

And if you somehow got the idea that the Blank is a criminal mastermind, he’s not. The armored car guards spot him coming and just decide to take off when a screentoned man starts running at them.

The Blank shoots one of the guards so he doesn’t manage to lock the rear of the money car but the other guard is locked up tight in the front and refuses to stop even when the Blank is threatening to kill his partner.

Wow. Guess other people’s money is more important to the guy than his co-worker’s life.

Since the guy tells the Blank that he’s driving the armored car right to the nearest police station, the Blank just grabs as much money as he can carry. Then he jumps out the back and slides to a stop on his belly like a penguin.

What a useful force field.

But the Blank’s bad night gets worse because then Mockingbird, Hawkeye, and Iron Man all show up, alerted by the police report.

The Blank at least has a realistic view of his capabilities. In that he’s not the guy that thinks a simple gimmick will let him start taking over the world. He just wants to rob a few banks and armored cars. And he does not want to fight the Avengers!

Especially not Iron Man!

Iron Man’s armor has all kinds of stuff in it and he might figure out a way through the force field!

So the guy decides to tackle some gas pumps.

Which naturally causes an enormous fire.

Not a bad plan, really. The explosion will launch the Blank from the scene with the force field keeping him safe and the heroes will stop to save lives as heroes tend to do.

While Hawkeye and Mockingbird help the gas station employees away from the fire, Iron man picks up a dump truck full of sand and puts out the fire.

Wonder Man and Tigra arrive as he’s doing that and Hawkeye has to tell Simon that the Blank got away or exploded.

Simon actually takes it pretty chill, just betting that no way a tough customer like the Blank died in the explosion.

And he’s right. Although the guy isn’t really a tough customer.

Actually, he’s planning on skipping town.

Avengers heat is too much heat for him. Plus, yeah, the force field protected him from the explosion but he was blown three blocks away and the impact of landing knocked him silly for five minutes and he was terrified he’d be caught anyway. Plus, he lost all that sweet Wells Fargo money.

So he’s going to take the bank robbery money from the morning and move somewhere with fewer superheroes.

He’s just gonna charge the force field for the road and- whoa dang a whole ass man popped out of thin air.

And its Graviton??

What were you doing in thin air, Graviton?

The Blank assumes this guy - wearing a costume and a cape - why he’s gotta be a superhero! And he immediately surrenders! He’ll return the money, turn over the force field device, go to jail, just don’t make him deal with those Avengers again!

Graviton is like hey buddy, I’m not with the Avengers and if you’re skipping town because of them, don’t bother. “Help me, and you’ll never have to worry about Avengers again!”

Ruh roh.

Now Graviton is, historically, kind of a dingus considering he’s a mad scientist, but he is powerful enough that he soloed a pretty powerful Avengers roster which had Iron Man, Thor, Wonder Man, and Vision.

The West Coast Avengers has Iron Man and Wonder Man but also has the more street level Hawkeye, Mockingbird, and Tigra. They don’t have the do-anything bullshit of Scarlet Witch or Vision’s robot brain or Cap’s strategy. Or whatever esoteric power the wild card Avenger of the era has like Captain Marvel’s command of the electromagnetic spectrum, Starfox’s PLEASURE POWERS or Moondragon’s psychic powers.

If Graviton decides to set up in L.A., then the newly formed West Coast Avengers could be in big trouble.

Maybe even two issues worth of trouble!

... What? This is a miniseries! There’s only so much he’s going to be able to do in the time left!

Follow @essential-avengers because you want to see what happens next, probably? Also, like and reblog because you want to?

#Avengers #West Coast Avengers #the Blank #Hawkeye #Mockingbird #Tigra #Iron Man #James Rhodes #Wonder Man #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #the Blank is kind of cool as a low power low ambition kind of villain honestly

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blackjack-15 · 3 years

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The Puzzle is Just the Italian Language — Thoughts on: The Phantom of Venice (VEN)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it. Like with all of the Odd Games, there will be a section between The Intro and The Title called The Weird Stuff, where I go into what makes this game stand out as a little strange.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: VEN, RAN.

The Intro:

From the French-inspired streets of New Orleans, Nancy jumps on a plane to Venice and is caught up in international espionage, theft, a mafia ring, and a cast of hostile suspects living in the same house as her.

Sounds a bit like my first semester of college, honestly. Minus the whole “Venice” and “international espionage” parts.

Coming directly after CRY, VEN isn’t quite as thick with atmosphere, doesn’t have any of its philosophy or thematic elements, and is really only famous for being set in Italy and for the fact that they hired four voice actors for our main cast sans regular characters (Colin, voiced by our good ol’ boy Jonah Von Spreecken, counts as a returning VA), but hired 6 distinct VAs for the singing gondoliers, most of whom the average player will never hear.

Yeah, VEN is kind of that type of game.

There’s a lot that makes VEN the trippy experience that it is – more on that immediately below – but nearly none of that makes VEN as confused as it is. Nancy’s hired by a foreign government – sort of – but there’s also a love line – sort of – a roommate story – sort of – and some touristy stuff like overpaying for flowers and gelato.

Taking place overseas, VEN might have been mistaken for a Jetsetting game if it weren’t for the fact that every bit of the game is permeated with the sense that nothing was quite thought out, nothing quite flows together, and there’s no emotional response in anyone – including the player.

That’s not to say that there’s nothing enjoyable about VEN; it’s one of the most highly memed games, in fact, with a catsuit, horrific fashion choices, and little laser roombas all making up the most memorable meme material (and that’s not even touching discount Justin Timberlake and his slides of seduction). It has strongly-painted characters (even if there’s a touch of the caricature about them), the return of recurring characters, the first appearance of a semi-recurring character, poisoned chocolates…it’s almost like someone tried to do STFD, but with a sprinkling of spies and Italy thrown in for good measure.

VEN can be a lot of fun, but it’s also a grind a lot of the time; the required puzzles can be ridiculous, for example, and, in a twist for Nancy Drew games, there’s a puzzle for everyone to hate, no matter if you dislike stealth games, card games, speed-reaction games, or even language puzzles.

Which brings us to the biggest problem with The Phantom of Venice: the common puzzle thread, the thing that keeps recurring, the ‘mission statement puzzle’…it’s just the Italian language. The game hinges on the idea that the player won’t know any Italian (or any Romance language, honestly), and that’s where the majority of the difficulty in the game (barring bad hand-eye coordination) comes from. It’s not a good thing at all, and it brings the entire game down with it.

Well, it has a little help. Let’s talk about the Roomba in the museum, shall we?

The Weird Stuff:

There’s a lot of things that are weird about VEN, no getting around it. But there’s one solid thing that makes it…well, Odd in the way that the other Odd games are qualified, and that’s this one simple fact:

This is a Hardy Boys mystery, with Nancy clumsily inserted in instead of Frank and Joe.

Think about it; called in by a foreign government, espionage, nearly drowning, contacts in the government and police force, an Italian crime ring…these are all things straight out of a Hardy Boys novel, not a Nancy Drew novel. There is a Nancy Drew book titled The Phantom of Venice, true enough, but this game doesn’t bear any resemblance to it besides, well, Venice itself. You could swap out Nancy with the boys and the whole game could go on, minus the whole ‘keepsake necklace from Ned’ thing, and depending on what you ship, even that might fly under the radar.

And no, I didn’t forget the dancing in a catsuit thing. Pure comedy right there.

Nancy’s a homegrown detective; most of her cases are ‘small thing spirals into bigger thing’. It’s not that she doesn’t deal in espionage, at times in foreign places, or stumble upon a crime ring. It’s just that that’s not the type of thing Nancy’s called in for, it’s the type of thing she trips over halfway into a lower-stakes mystery.

The Hardy Boys, however, because of their father’s contacts (in the novels) and their position in ATAC (in the games) are exactly the kind of people that work with police chiefs and security experts and foreign spies and the like. It’s very nearly their bread and butter. Which is why I have a wild but not out-of-the-way wacky sorta-serious theory. Bear with me:

This game was designed as a Hardy Boys game, and Nancy really was clumsily inserted in with a few weeks to spare.

At this point in history – the far-behind time of July 2008, as the Great Recession was descending, the fury of an election year was coming to a head, and you couldn’t go to a supermarket or clothes store in America without hearing OneRepublic tell you that it was just a little too late to apologize – HER wasn’t doing badly, per se, but they certainly weren’t doing as well as they could have been. They weren’t that far from having had to majorly upgrade their engine for a rapidly changing technological world, and there seemed to be no end in sight. HER had plenty of staff change-ups coming because of new sponsors, but weren’t making enough simply with what they had.

Put simply, they needed a carrot. And what better carrot than the fan-favorite Hardy Boys?

There are two Hardy Boys games put out around this time: The Perfect Crime and The Hidden Theft. While neither one was done by Her Interactive, there was a HER Hardy Boys game in the works: the DS masterpiece Treasure on the Tracks. The audience for a Hardy Boys game was meant to be young boys/teenaged boys, but the side audience expected was fans of the Nancy Drew books and games.

So while I know logically that Phantom of Venice was just the latest in a line of ‘adulted-up’ Nancy Drew books (and games), in my head it makes much more sense to say that it was supposed to be a Hardy Boys game meant to promote Treasure on the Tracks and HER got nervous and pulled the plug, stuffing their erstwhile teen detective in instead.

The Title:

As far as a title goes, The Phantom of Venice isn’t a bad one; you can tell it comes from the ‘hotter and sexier’ Nancy Drew books, and as a collection of words, it works rather well. It’s an evocative title, giving us our location, our crime (‘phantom thieves’ are common as a type of thief), and doesn’t say too much else, so as to not spoil the mystery.

As a title for this game, however…well, so little of the actual game deals with the Phantom that it’s rather non-indicative as a title. By the time you’re 16 Scopa games deep and are wearing a sparkly red dress with a cat mask and sneakers around Italy, you’ve pretty much forgotten about the Phantom and are more worried about exactly what happened to the pigeon you used as a messenger and why exactly flowers and gelato cost so much for 2008.

The Phantom of Venice just…deserved a better, more cohesive, more…well, phantom-y game than it got. That’s all.

Now, onto the mystery!

The Mystery:

Nancy’s been called in by the Secret Italian Police because a thief has been stealing art.

No, really, I’m being serious.

Sure, Prudence Rutherford has a hand in getting her called in, but basically Nancy goes from small-time cases, sometimes getting her name in the papers, to called in by the Italian Secret Police.

Caught up at a house where no one likes her (understandable, given that she just Appears one day, forced on the Ca’s owner, Margherita Fauborg, and her residents at the Ca’), Nancy soon becomes embroiled in a mystery most foul when she discovers ties to the art thief – or thieves – right around the Ca’, poisoned sausages and message-laden chocolate boxes, and shades and shades and shades of tiles offered by the Ca’s resident nerd.

Soon, Nancy is juggling police contacts, heists, Scopa games, and the impersonation of a world-class spy just to give the Italian police a hint as to who might be stealing Venice’s greatest artworks. It gets personal, however, when the Phantom Thief himself shows up, stealing Nancy’s locket which she’s just been given by Ned.

Oh, and did I mention that the whole thing is told in media res? Yeah, very, very weird choice right there.

Honestly speaking, the mystery isn’t…bad, per se. It’s got solid bones – art theft, mysterious thieves, romantic location, interesting-seeming suspects, some spy shenanigans. The problem with VEN’s mystery, largely, is that there just isn’t any cartilage to connect those good bones. Without something to hold it all together, it just kind of falls apart – exactly like a skeleton without cartilage.

Simply put, there’s a lot of mystery, but no plot to carry the mystery along.

The Suspects:

Beginning with Margherita Fauborg, the tanning-obsessed matriarch of the Ca’ Nacosta, seems like a good place to start. Dismissive of Nancy, tourists, and Nancy being a ‘tourist’, Margherita prefers to stay on top of her house tanning the day away rather than take part in any shenanigans.

Having Margherita not be a member of the ring was almost as inspired as having Helena lead it; she’s not nice, does suspicious things, is entirely self-centered – but she’s not a villain, nor does the game really pretend that she is for more than a second. I really like characters like this in the Nancy Drew games, who are honestly just People not enamored with the teen detective, but aren’t villains just because of that.

Also, the story of her husband’s death is just incredibly hilarious.

Her half-ward, half-employee Colin Baxter, on the other hand, is anything but dismissive of Nancy. He’s part of the ‘kinda crushing on Nancy’ club, but is Far less beloved than any other member of that club. It comes from his inherent creepiness, criminal record, and love for tile slides, I think.

Colin, as a suspect…well, he’s just there to make the numbers add up. It’s a shame that his largest utility is to show Margherita’s slightly unscrupulous nature, but he should have been kept as perhaps a figure that Nancy could call to get the story, rather than an in-person suspect.

The other person staying at the Ca’ is Helena Berg, fulfilling the HER mandate for having a German villain in their European games. Having Helena be the mastermind of the ring is a pretty good plot point, honestly, as I expected the first time for her to just be part of it, and to have that be the Big Surprise.

She’s also one of the few villains who promises revenge on Nancy and/or is still out there. I know it would have been Way too soon to have Helena be the returning culprit in RAN rather than Dwayne, but honestly she was a better candidate for it. While any hope of a good ND game (and mostly any game, honestly) is pretty far from me, I always hoped one day Helena would return in all her platinum blonde glory.

Enrico Tazza is our most encountered (kind of) and outwardly suspicious suspect, but he’s not exactly…well, scary. He makes Nancy-as-Samantha play a card game with him, then disappears, despite being the Preeminent Villain Face for the first half of the game.

I do love Tazza, however, just for his presence in the game. He’s cartoony, fun, well-acted…he’s just great. And as a potential villain, he’s great too! You’re never meant to doubt that he’s a ‘baddie’, you’re just meant to go along for the ride. Excellent.

Finally, Antonio Fango is the most prominent suspect that you’ll ever completely forget the name of, due to his lack of screen time despite being the Italian Police’s favorite suspect. He has a whole convoluted backstory involving multiple colleges and degrees, but really he’s just the communication go-fer for Helena’s theft ring.

As a villain…well, Fango does his part, but due to being a nigh-unseen suspect, he’s really just not very memorable. He’s like most of the ring – necessary to establish the numbers, but other than that, a non-entity.

The Favorite:

Despite the plot holes wide enough to steer a gondola through, there are a few things that really make VEN stand out.

The first is Samantha Quick; originally a stage name suggestion from Simone in FIN, she shows up as an actual character in VEN, albeit only by phone and shadow. Her pissed-off phone call to Nancy is a highlight of the game, especially as she ends with the vaguely threatening line “say hi to Ned for me”. Her shadow at the end in Colin’s window is the final clinch to make SQ a personal favorite of mine, and her presence (and the feeling of her presence, which is sort of different) is a high point in the game.

The location of the game is another plus; not so much Venice, but the Ca’ Nacosta itself. It’s a wonderful ‘home base’ location for any Nancy Drew game, filled with light, staircases, and pretty impressive stonework given that just a few short games ago, everything looked like it was animated out of melted gummy bears.

My favorite puzzle(s) are the chess puzzles, honestly. I just kind of like chess puzzles to begin with, and it’s a nice respite from forcing pigeons to do your bidding and avoiding various foods.

My favorite moment in the game is honestly the Samantha Quick shadow, but if I had to pick another moment, it’s where Nancy implies that she’s stripping for money, and Ned just replies that he’ll be really glad when she’s back home safe in the States. It’s such a random, hilarious thing to happen, and Ned’s complete underreaction to the idea of Nancy earning money in such a way (as she makes it sound way worse than it actually is) is what really sells it.

The Un-Favorite:

There are some un-favorites as well, however, that drag down the game to the place it currently resides.

The first is…well, the location and the means used to get Nancy there. As much as I have no problem with Venice, this attempt to open up the world makes little sense when you consider that there’s no way the Italian Secret Police would hinge their hopes on a small-time 18 year old American detective, no matter how highly Prudence spoke of her.

The jumbled plot (when there is a plot, at least) is another point against VEN; the writers just didn’t know what to do with Nancy being in Venice, and so just…didn’t do anything with it.

I also dislike that this game happens in media res. There’s no real reason to do it – and it makes any actions that the player takes that’s slightly apart from the ‘main plot’ – gondola rides, ice cream, looking at slide after slide after slide – seem incredibly out of place and borderline inappropriate. At the very least, if the Hardy Boys were part of the game, they could be yelling her name as she began to drown, which would give a sense of urgency that’s missing from the confused opening.

My least favorite puzzle…well, that brings me to a huge problem: every puzzle in this game is based around the fact that it’s in Italian, and they expect no one playing this to even have an idea of Italian (or any romance language). It boils down to this: the puzzle is just the Italian language, and they have nothing else up their sleeves. I don’t have a least favorite puzzle, because apart from a select few, they’re all the same puzzle, wrapped in slightly different clothing.

The Fix:

So how would I fix The Phantom of Venice?

Coming off of CRY, we’ve now had two games with two (or three) player characters, so that’s what I’d start with doing. Include the Hardy Boys, who have been called on by the Italian Secret Police because of their work with ATAC. They’re helping the mystified police track down this ring of thieves when Nancy mentions offhand that Prudence Rutherford is recommending a stay at a Ca’ in Venice whose owner owes her a favor (as a treat/vacation). Upon hearing this, the Hardy Boys ring her up and ask her help, as they’ve stalled out. They’re not allowed to come into physical contact with Nancy (to save money on animating them/Nancy), but they want her to investigate from her end, as she won’t be suspected at all.

The real reason the Italian Police let the Hardy Boys get her involved, of course, is that they need someone to impersonate Samantha Quick, and they’re having a rough time with their Joe-in-a-wig tests. They need an American who can convincingly pull off the act, and the brothers mention Nancy’s stints undercover. Desperate enough to grasp at anything, Nancy’s officially in.

That along would help beef up the plot, as suddenly we have an actual police plotline with the Hardy Boys (playing as one or the other, it doesn’t matter, or maybe both with different ‘jobs’ to do as one or the other). Diving the suspects is a good idea too; Nancy would take Helena and Tazza as her primary suspects (of course, only Tazza would be the ‘primary’ at the beginning), while the Hardy Boys handled Fango and his side of the ring.

The final puzzle (with the flashlights and such), especially, makes more sense as a Hardy Boys sort of thing. Nancy can snoop around the market and the Ca’, discovering clues as to Helena’s guilt and such. The Hardy Boys take down the ring, but Nancy takes down Helena.

I would also give Nancy a better reason to be undercover at the dance club. It’s a weird little minigame to be sure, but if it’s gonna exist in the game, there should be a better reason. Even better, take it out and have her solve puzzles – something other than the Italian Language, mind you – in order to get money from the police or something.

(Even better, take out the money thing, as someone helping the Police and pretending to be a spy should not be or appear to be short on funds.)

The last big change I’d do is to take Ned out (sorry, Ned, but there’s really no reason for you to be in this game) and swap him for Carson. Carson really should be in a few more games than he is as it stands, and this is a great way to bring in the fact that…well, Carson can’t be entirely Comfortable with the direction that Nancy’s life is going, even if he is proud of her.

Most of the time, Nancy’s family and friends are just used to say “and she’s ‘normal’ and loved and supported even though she’s never home”, and I think using them to establish her character and the stakes is a far better use of these pre-existing characters.

#nancy drew #clue crew #nancy drew games #VEN #phantom of venice #video games #nancy drew meta #long post #my meta

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merryfortune · 6 years

Text

Day 2 - Awakened

Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc V Angst Week // A Stacked Deck

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: injury, blood, berserk mode, bullying

AN: slight AU but its set pre-canon. I don’t want to spoil it but that’s all y’all need to know.

Yuto used to run a Forest of Spirits deck. Most would be surprised to hear that given his current personality; Ruri had even laughed at him when he told her that, but he didn’t mind. The purpose of telling her was to prove that he could trust her with more vulnerable and embarrassing information about himself. To make her laugh had been the point. But still, it was surprising.

Those halcyon days of running a Forest of Spirits deck was quite some time ago now. Or at least it felt like it. He was fourteen, after all. It was when he was still just a little kid, about eleven, really, that he used to run his Spirit deck. He wasn’t even out of elementary school yet. However, the shift between using his Spirit monsters and using his Phantom Knight monsters was quite a difference. Honestly, that day left a lasting impact on Yuto for more than a few reasons. For a start, it marked him as different but that’s getting ahead of the story.

So, let’s start simply. Yuto used to run Forest of Spirits deck. Why? Well, because he was a kid. He used to be a cute kid. He still was a cute kid, according to the likes of Ruri but he used to be a cuter kid. One with wider eyes and a stranger headspace. Because that’s just how kids were. How he was; even long before the war and destruction of Heartland.

He loved fantasy stories. He still does love fantasy stories. Its just he used to love romantic fairy tales a lot. Now, he preferred fantasia which came with a heavier price than “happily ever after” but back then, he liked stories filled with pure and wondrous imagination. He liked stories where heroes slew the dragon and won the heroine’s love and they would go onto live a blessed life that savoured love and glory.

It had been hopeful stories like that which had kept Yuto going. He’d always been the odd kid out. He was shorter and bit of a cry baby; he had bad eyesight and wore dorky glasses. He talked to his cards like they were real people. His family situation was mysterious at best and pitiful at worst. And there was also this aura about him. Like something wasn’t quite right; like there was something lurking beneath the surface which wasn’t right. Thus, where there was the inability to meet conformity, bullying resulted.

And there was this one kid in Yuto’s grade whose favourite pastime was making sure the odd one out in their class remembered his place. For the most part, Yuto was a cowardly victim; remaining in line and licking his wounds later. He didn’t want to be noticed. He didn’t want to stick out. And the teachers weren’t being helpful. He wasn’t dumb. He knew there was something off about him as well, or maybe that’s just what had been drilled into him the course of being bullied and not having any defences. Any defences except for books and, of course, dueling.

Yuto hid in the library most of the time. There were so many nooks and crannies so, he was able to find suitable places to wear out time with. Plus, he could read all the fairy tales he wanted so that was good too. He dreamed of the day he would be able to don a red cloak and take a sword into battle.

So, he found his weapons of choice: cards. Not just in the library, but in class too, Yuto studied with the intention of becoming the best because he knew, if he could just win one duel – the right duel – everything would fall into place. He wouldn’t have to be a target anymore.

Over and over, he would recite his plans for heroism to Elemental Mistress Doriado. People would tease Yuto and say that Doriado was useless and weak. Just like him. But he didn’t mind. He thought she was perfect just the way she was. That’s why he crowned his Elemental Mistress Doriado as “ace” of his deck.

And it was because he crowned such a ‘worthless’ card his ace that one day, when everything which had been brewing over the course of his bullying, that one day, his tormentor snapped and decided he would take everything from Yuto. Well, perhaps not everything. Just that which meant most him: that ‘worthless’ card.

At some point during, what had been an otherwise uneventful school day, the class bully stole Yuto’s deck from him. Yuto was both terrified and delighted. This is it. this was the moment he had been waiting for. This was the day he would take upon a hero’s mantle and rescue the heroine. In this case, the heroine was his beloved ace card, Elemental Mistress Doriado. So, he marched himself out of the classroom and into the courtyard, intent on doing something to his tormentor the moment he saw that cruel child. Yet he shook in his boots the whole way.

And it hadn’t taken Yuto very long. In fact, his bully greeted him with a tutting smugness.

“You really are dumb,” he said, “I mean, it took you all day to realise your precious cards were gone.”

“D-Duel me.” Yuto mewled.

The bully’s brow twinged. “Is that little voice the best you got, Ute? You sound pathetic. Like a girl.”

“Duel me!” Yuto yelled with more conviction this time; his little fist in a tiny ball that quivered in front of him and yet, he seemed to be growing more confident as time went by.

The bully clicked his tongue and sent Yuto’s deck flying. The cards went scattering and Yuto picked up each one with clawing desperation. The bully laughed. But, Yuto stood on his haunches regardless. He set his Duel Disc and D-Gazer.

“Duel me.” Yuto instructed.

“Sure,” his bully replied, “on one condition: the ante rule. We both put up our best card.”

“Done.” Yuto replied.

There was a pause. The bully set his own Duel Disc and D-Gazer. Then, a moment later, both youths yelled at each other: “Duel, start!”

This duel had been like none other. It had been fuelled by Yuto’s passion. This bully – Ryuji – would be the dragon that he would slay to win his heroine and honour. If he could win, he could win everything. And, if he lost, he would lose it all. It was truly a picture-perfect battle.

The best part was, Yuto was winning. He had stumbled at first. His plays were hesitant, and he had made mistakes and yet, he believed in his cards. He knew, deep down, that he had what it would take to win. He could feel glory and victory in his heart and he would bring it to fruition and with that pure-hearted conviction, he changed the tides of battle. With just a turn, his Forest of the Spirits deck had been able to overcome everything his bully threw at him.

And yet, he hadn’t been able to play his best card. It was coming down to the wire now. Yuto and Ryuji had equal life points: 300 hundred. And Ryuji’s best monsters were in the graveyard with no hope of resurrection and the monsters he did have on his field, were fodder for stronger troops which were unable to be summoned; at least in this point in time.

Best of all, it was the beginning of Yuto’s turn and he had just drawn a card which would end this battle magnificently. His third copy of the Pre-Preparation Rites card had been drawn! The other two had been sealed off from use during the course of the battle. His heart pounded as he read the card’s title over and over again. He couldn’t believe it. Finally, now was the time.

With a shaking hand and excited smile, Yuto placed the card into position: “I use my spell card, Preparation of Rites!” he called out.

The card glittered as the Duel Disc recognised his turn. The castle which appeared on the card appeared in the holographic space between them. It drew up from the ground with hallowed reverence and soon, options flashed across Yuto’s screen as he vibrated with pure joy. This would be the moment in which he would summon Elemental Mistress Doriado and show not just his bully, but the whole world, that his ace monster was the best ace monster ever!

Yuto made his first selection. “I choose the spell card Doriado’s blessing!”

His deck spat out the card. It had come from the very bottom. Yuto plucked it with eagerness and added it to his hand. He could hardly contain his elation as the screen moved to the next phase of the spell’s effect.

“Now, I choose Elemental Mistress Doriado from my deck!” Yuto cried out excitedly.

“Heh.” His bully choked out what was supposed to have been a laugh.

“Huh?” Yuto mumbled and then, his blood ran cold.

Error. Error. Error. Card not in deck. Unable to retrieve. System error. Those sorts of messages ran across his screen. Yuto forced his gaze across the battle field. Ryuji laughed raucously. He tipped his head back.

“You really are stupid, Ute!” he bellowed.

He fumbled with something in his breast pocket. Yuto’s quivering ceased being of a euphoric nature and turned to something far more fearful. His heart pounded in his ears and he felt hot, pinpricks of tears in the corner of his eyes.

“What’s… What’s going on?” Yuto asked, his voice crumbling in the air.

“Were you looking for this?” Ryuji asked, and he brandished a card.

Through the dimness of sundown, Yuto wasn’t immediately certain what it was but he knew better. He wanted it to be anything else than Elemental Mistress Doriado but alas.

Ryuji smirked. “As if I’d let you defeat me using a trash card like this. Beat me like a man, you wuss.”

And then the unthinkable happened.

Yuto could take verbal abuse. He would even have withstood a bashing or similar. However, this was far worse and far crueler than sticks and stones and words.

Ryuji held the card on its side. And he tore it in two. The ever-smiling Elemental Mistress Doriado was now smiling through her death sentence. The sight of it tore Yuto’s heart in two.

Yuto screamed out. But Ryuji delighted in the act of shredding the card in two. He delighted in how Yuto begged for him to stop. And he especially delighted in how Yuto slumped to his knees; hands dragging in the dust and that look upon his face was palpable.

Big, fat tears welled up into Yuto’s eyes and a sadness like no other filled him. But that sadness, that grief over the destruction of his ace card and best friend, was not an ordinary sadness. It soon gave way to some sort of anger as the sky darkened and the sun sank below the earth. It didn’t seem a nary star was out.

Truthfully, Yuto didn’t know the emotion that flowed through him in that awful moment. But it had been a very powerful anger and it had not been a righteous one. Well, perhaps it could have been if Yuto had been a different person, but alas, he was Yuto: one whole of a whole person.

The anger which coursed through his veins didn’t match the description of the righteous anger that Yuto had come to recognise from the hours he had spent faithfully reading fairy tales as they were a godsend and were basically sacred texts. When the hero was angered at trickery from a heinous villain, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be so… awful feeling. It had felt more like how the awakening of an evil monster was described.

Yuto’s body and his lips peeled back in a snarl. His heart hammered and every hair on his little, often frail, body stood on end.

“The fun… has only just begun.” he breathed and each sound was steeped deeply with seething.

“What the hell, Ute…? What’s happened to you?” Ryuji asked.

He was slightly terrified of Yuto. He got up slowly. Mechanically. It was like something had possessed him or if a marionette’s cross existed invisibly above his head. Regardless, there was something cold and inhuman regarding Yuto’s movements. They were jerky and rigid at the same time.

Then, a light exploded forth from where the extra deck was stored on the Duel Disc. The error messages from before had faded away. Yuto slammed his summoned Doriado’s Blessing into the Graveyard. He smiled evilly. Ryuji shivered. Something was not quite right. In fact, it was extremely wrong, even.

Yuto thrust out his arm. His fingers twitched. He didn’t know or understand the words in his mouth. He had always been an oddball. That’s partially why he played a Ritual Deck in a school, nay a world, which preferred XYZ Summoning with seeming prejudice unto the few other summoning methods there were, and yet… That’s what he found himself on the brink of summoning, as impossible as it was.

Furthermore, what was more impossible than summoning a card that he should not own was summoning a card which should not exist period.

“I overlay these two level four monsters, Fairy Dragon and Fairy’s Gift, to build the overlay network…” Yuto began very slowly and very eerily.

His monsters which, he had intended to switch into attack position, so he could destroy his opponent’s defending monsters and leave cards in his hand as fodder for his ritual. Therefore, he could have Elemental Mistress Doriado land the final blow but instead, they were becoming the sacrifices for a summon which was not ritual born.

Instead, the defending Fairy Dragon transformed into a glittering and cascading trail of pale green and Fairy’s Gift became a similar, effervescent light of gold. The lights intertwined and the virtual and primordial pool they were being sacrificed to arose underneath the battle field and simpered with hellish lights. The sacrifices were accepted.

“From the black darkness, the fangs of rebellion that fight against the powers of oppression descend!” Yuto yelled.

Something was in that primordial and nearly cosmic ooze. Lightning strikes arose with dashing crescendos from within. Each lash of blue light electrified Yuto’s heart and he felt some sort hunger, one he had never known before, was satiated. It felt like he had been reunited with someone very important; someone he had, perhaps, known in a similar life. Or, perhaps, that was an illusion rising from the impossibility of this situation and from the heinous anger he felt inside of him.

“XYZ Summon!” Yuto yelled.

There was a roar. A deafening roar that put the fear of God – no, the Devil – in Yuto’s tormentor. He trembled with fear whereas Yuto stood strong as he brought forth this new power from within his fiendish extra deck.

“Rank Four! Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon!” Yuto screamed.

The beast which had been summoned was like no monster either of them had ever seen before. It was a gorgeous creature with dark scales and a maw that seemed to ooze with infernal breath and the ability to tear through anything and everything. Including the both of them. But, it was loyal to its master who stood, shoulders squared, which welcomed it to the stage in which it would fight.

“Attack, Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon!” Yuto yelled.

Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon let loose a ferocious roar and attacked with all its might. It blew through the monster Ryuji had to defend. He then, unable to draw a good card, then forfeited his next turn. Thus, Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon attacked again. Lightning rich with hellish heat blew through with a powerful blast. Now, Ryuji’s field was empty and hopefully, it would stay that way. Yuto relished every moment.

Ryuji could tell there was something wrong about both this monster and Yuto. He sacrificed yet another turn. He knew when to bow down, like a dog. But, he refused to let Yuto win. He didn’t want to let that creature of a child to win. This was totally unlike him.

“I draw.”

There was a pause. Ryuji glanced at his card and licked his lips. He looked as though he had something to turn the tide of battle against the two thousand attack points that Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon possessed.

“I summon Alexandrite Dragon in attack mode.”

Soon, a card slammed onto his Duel Disc. There was a glittering cascade and a dragon was brought forth. It roared but as beautiful and lithe as it was, its glamour and power seemed to diminish when compared to the dragon it stared down.

“Now, I activate my spell card: Black Pendant!” Ryuji said, and he began to laugh.

His dragon now donned a necklace and its attack strength increased until it was the same as Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon. Yuto snickered. He realised what sort of desperate planed Ryuji had concocted. It was going to suicide out of this attack and let Black Pendant’s effect rid him of the last of his life points.

“Attack, Alexandrite Dragon!” Ryuji yelled.

“You’ve activated my spell card!” Yuto yelled. “Negate Attack!”

Yuto’s trap card flipped up and there was a blast of wind. And Ryuji cowered. He ended his turn and he couldn’t help but feel like more than this duel was on the cusp of ending now that the turn was handed to Yuto.

“I draw.” Yuto said calmly and he drew his card.

He checked it and smirked. Rather than placing it, even briefly, in his hand. He placed it on his Duel Disc.

“I activate Healing Wind. For every monster on the field, I receive two hundred life points. So, that’s four hundred life points.” Yuto said.

The numbers which signified his life points grew to eight hundred. That was enough to narrowly avoid the penalty of destroying a monster equipped with Black Pendant. And now, with that settled, Yuto was swift to move to the battle phase of this turn but first, he had something important to do.

“I tribute both overlay units to use Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon’s effect.” Yuto said. There was a dark crispness to his voice.

“Wh-What? What does that do?” Ryuji cried out.

“I can halve your original attack points and feed that half to my Dragon.” Yuto explained. “And since I’ve halved your dragon’s attack points… all that remains is that Black Pendant of yours.”

The numbers which signified Alexandrite Dragon’s attack points dwindled rapidly until there was all but five hundred of them. Meanwhile, Yuto’s Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon received a grand total of two thousand points to add to its power. His dragon howled and the whole courtyard shook. Dust and leaves dwirled.

“It ends now.” Yuto said. “Attack! Lightning Disobey!”

Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon roared once more but there was a derisive finale to this roar. It shattered the concrete beneath them and it brought trees to their weakest. It even broke bones. Alexandrite Dragon shattered and Ryuji attempted to protect himself. He rose his arms to protect his face and shards of his dragon, what was supposed to have been trump card, scratched him.

Blood threw scratches. As though they were real. They shouldn’t have been real.

And it was in that moment, Yuto felt fear again. Not anger or anything akin, but fear.

He watched, uselessly, as Ryuji slumped down. His stomach wrenched. Something was wrong. Dueling wasn’t supposed to leave injuries as severe as this. The monsters were holograms. They couldn’t really fight. And yet, Ryuji was down for the count and seemed to have injuries.

Yuto glanced at his dragon. It looked back at him and bowed its head. Something about this situation was sick. It was really sick. And then his gaze returned to the body, cowering and bloody, of his tormentor. Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon softened until it was a figment of his imagination and of phosphenes scattering around the darkening scene.

Yuto didn’t know what to do. He panicked. He called for help and eventually horrified adults gathered at the scene, but so many parts of that evening were a blur. He remembers at one point, someone came for Ryuji and there was an ambulance. He remembers flashing lights and sirens. And he remembers the way Ryuji’s parents looked at him with disgust.

How dare you do this to my son? They both had that searing question in their hateful eyes.

Yuto was terrified for the whole of that evening. After all, he had been the one to cause Ryuji’s injuries and they were more extensive than first thought. A couple of busted ribs, a cut to his eye which meant vision loss, and some other stuff. Yet it was weird. No one blamed him even though he knew he was the direct cause. It’s just. No one believed him. After all, Duel Monsters was an exceptionally safe game to play, especially in circumstances like this: in the courtyard of an elementary school.

Still, Yuto took the occurrence deep into his heart. He didn’t understand where Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon or how it managed to inflict real world damage, but Yuto still took it all to the heart. He didn’t know what had happened. He was old enough to realise it was something awful, but he wasn’t old enough to understand it. All he knew, with straightforward conviction, was that he had a curse and a horrible one at that. Maybe it had been better if he had never found out and had never won a duel but regardless, it was knowledge he now carried.

And it was knowledge that changed him. He didn’t want to hurt people. He didn’t want to be some sort of demonised and ostracised outsider. He just wanted to be a fairy tale hero. Right now, he felt like the dragon that had to be slain to save the princess and the townsfolk. He didn’t feel like he was the one who ought to raise a falchion blade but rather, the one who was pointed with such a weapon.

After that, the dynamics of the classroom changed. Yuto wasn’t someone you could pick on now. People were scared of him and it lasted right until graduation. And after graduation, Yuto made sure to pick a middle school far, far away where rumours may not spread that far. Unfortunately, they had. Everyone in Heartland seemed to know him as the kid who could hurt people but with the fresh start, at least he was given a chance.

A lot of things about Yuto changed after that fateful duel. He learned a sort of maturation beyond his years. He learned to be kinder and wiser. This othered him but it wasn’t the worst form of othering he had experienced.

Then there were two other things about him which changed. One of which happened to be a change in his taste for literature. He still liked fantasy. But now, he preferred stories which were gaslit and dark with endings which were bittersweet with best. Still, of the changes, this was perhaps the most minor, but it was still important as it echoed into his dueling style.

With his beloved ace monster torn in half, a fact that was conveniently omitted from the story that Ryuji’s parents spurned, Yuto couldn’t bring himself to use his Forest of Spirits deck anymore. He felt like he had desecrated such a pure-hearted deck so now, they mostly collected dust. Once in a while, he would say hello to his old friends but without Elemental Mistress Doriado with them, he couldn’t bring himself to do it often. It felt wrong without the card which was supposed to have been his eternal best friend.

Instead, he had a new ace to fill her role and with a new ace, came a new deck. Yuto adopted his Phantom Knights deck after that duel. It seemed fitting since it cobbled together his old self and his new self. Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon seemed pleased with its new surroundings. It being summoned from Forest of Spirits archetype monsters was just wrong.

But, Yuto still didn’t understand that monster and the feelings it had been awakened from. Truth be told, Yuto was terrified but he accepted it in good heart. He felt as though as rightful master to the impossible dragon that was Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon, he should remain level-headed and in control. After all, he didn’t want to be at the helm of something worse than the duel which had engraved on him so deeply and so darkly.

#arcvangstweek #writing tag #arc v fanfic #yugioh #yugioh arc v #arc v #yuto #yuto (arc v)#enjoy i had a lot of fun writing this fic

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mewtwo24 · 7 years

Note

JUMIN/MC ;^))))))) (the light of my life)

:O!! You got it fam, same here I live for these two

Who’s the cuddler: Jumin! Though MC likes cuddling a lot too, I am a stalwart believer in the notion that Jumin is touch-starved. When he finally finds somebody he is comfortable with and actively wants to be close to, it’s almost subconscious. He’ll pull her close and reach for her hand, play with her fingers, kiss her ring while tracing her skin with words of loving gratitude. He’ll embrace her from behind if she’s cooking/baking, make a home for himself where her neck meets her shoulder before they both go to sleep, spend winter nights with her swaddled in his arms as she nods off.

Who makes the bed: MC! Jumin tends to start the day rather early because of work, so he’s usually up first. After a long, consuming kiss and several reluctant pecks, she’ll be left to curl up in his lingering warmth and scent for a few more hours before she starts the day herself. He would probably insist that she leave the tasks to the maids, but MC just used to doing it herself. Who wakes up first: Jumin! Judging by the life he’s lead for a while now, he’s used to waking up early and tends to be an early riser on his own. That being said he counts it as a blessing, as he often loves to marvel at the way the break of dawn dances across MC’s hair and bathes her in its glow; seraphic and radiant as the angel he believes her to be. Most of the time he’ll be patient and unwilling to wake her up when she appears so tranquil in the land of dreams, but from time to time he’ll be unable to help himself and kiss her softly awake, murmuring “My Sleeping Beauty” as he holds her close.Who has the weird taste in music: Depends on how you define weird, but for this one I’m going to go with MC. Since Jumin tends to have a very refined taste in music–with preferences for classical, opera, and orchestral music– MC’s tastes are a bit more strange and myriad. She would probably listen to a wide variety of music if she were musically inclined, and enjoy anything from theatre music to punk rock to a little hip-hop and pop. I think they would both respect the other’s taste, and find that a few of the other’s selections would appeal to them greatly. Phantom of the Opera music can often be heard playing in the house after MC moves in oooopsWho is more protective: That’s actually a tough one, in that I think they’re both fiercely protective of the other (though sometimes I wish Cheritz made MC speak up more ugh). So I’d say both but in different ways. Jumin is protective in just about every sense of the word, though he would grant his MC complete autonomy so long as she exercised basic precautions. Her safety is always his number one priority. He knows what he can’t live without, and that fact tends to make him extremely careful about her physical health (security guards everywhere lol), though he’s also very attentive about her emotional/psychological health. MC on the other hand works to protect him from harm inflicted by those who objectify him and neglect his feelings, particularly the female sycophants we often see buzzing about him and his father. She’s very conscious of how he’s feeling and can read him easily, with open arms, a comforting murmur, or a sweet lip-lock at the ready the moment he needs it. Who sings in the shower: Haha, MC, assuming she’s musically inclined as I mentioned earlier. The first time Jumin caught her doing that she was mortified and crimson, hiding behind the bathroom door and apologizing for disturbing him as soon as he came home. He drew her close and reassured her that it was quite alright, stroking her hair as he told her she had a lovely voice and that she shouldn’t silence herself on his account. From then on MC could often be heard trilling about the house now and then, and Jumin would lean back wherever he was, close his eyes, and enjoy the euphonious melody. If he knew the song, maybe he’d join in for a bit in a low bass.Who cries during movies: MC! Though it’s rare as they tend to prefer watching uplifting things, anything heart-wrenching or terrifying will often cause MC to tear up. Whenever Jumin would spot the liquid crystals clinging to her eyelashes, ready to fall, he’d embrace her tightly without another word. MC would listen to the sound of his heart and cuddle into his warmth, content and calming quickly in his arms. Gentle fingers would smooth away what was left of her tears and soothe her with gossamer kisses, murmuring words of comfort.Who spends the most while out shopping: LOL Jumin, hands down. This man, this adorable donut, literally spares no expense as showcased by the Valentine’s Day dlc. Whenever he goes out, his mind will wander to MC no matter what he’s doing. Whether it was something that matched the color of her eyes, or a dress that complemented her skin tone perfectly, or an ornament that was perfect for her person you better believe he will buy it no further questions asked. Then he’ll come home with bags upon bags of beautiful, classy things; all things he insisted were too perfect for MC to ignore. I’d wager MC would tell him there was no need to go so far and that all she needed was him, but Jumin–albeit melting at her insistence–only wants to spoil her even more upon hearing it.Who kisses more roughly: Jumin. Han. Granted he tries to be gentle, and succeeds most of the time. But on those days where his need to be with her–to drown himself in the delights of her body and lose himself in the person that loves him for all he is, the person he never thought might exist–wins out; his kisses are desperate and consuming and raw. Additionally, when MC is feeling forward and expresses a bit of excitement herself he can get lost in sheer passion along with her. MC never has any regrets though hot damnWho is more dominate: Jumin, again. This is a man who is very accustomed and most comfortable in control, so he often takes a lead that MC readily allows him. Though he may be coaxed into a more submissive role from time to time, he has a natural tendency and preference for the former.My rating of the ship from 1-10: Based on the canon content from Cheritz, I’d give it a solid 9/10. I love this ship, I’m an absolute sucker for it. Jumin is such a wonderfully complex man, with a benevolent heart despite his routine sass and default stoic demeanor. He’s endlessly devoted and loving, and wants nothing more than to see his MC happy by his side after everything she’s done for him in loving him unconditionally. MC takes the initiative to help Jumin when he needs it, and understands that the mental turmoil he’s suffering is a result of years of unhealthy stifling of his emotions. She coaxes those feelings out of him, taking great care to be gentle, and helps him understand a part of himself he’d never been able to express safely all his life. My only gripe is with how insensitive her dialogue and reactions can be in the game sometimes (really, we have to interrogate Jumin about Rika and Elizabeth the Third eighteen times, really) in that the phrasing can be hurtful or MC doubts his perception of reality. And while that’s somewhat warranted, I think Jumin is pretty clear that the love he develops for MC is profound and separate for the love he holds for his cat, which he explains he knew was a bit excessive but chose to believe it was real and reciprocated for his own peace of mind. That, and MC definitely could have defended him and communicated his struggles a bit better to the rest of the RFA throughout his route.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mm #mm ask #jumin han #jumin #mc #jumin han x mc #rfa #shipping ask #i loved doing this #i love this ship #this was purely self-indulgent #i hope i did them justice!

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zodiackillerrevealed · 5 years

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Allot of speculation has been going around that the Zodiac might have used a few comic books as his inspiration for the creation of his Halloween card. He had created a code within the Halloween Card taunting that his name could be found probably within the bones of the skeletons.

“I feel it in my bones. You ache to know my name, And so I’ll clue you in…

…But then why spoil the game!”

The card was originally sent to the reporter Paul Avery on October 27th 1970.

Learn more about the Halloween card here.

But how are comic books connected to this card? What drew people to this conclusion?

Let’s look into one of Paul Avery’s news articles.

I decided to look up Paul Avery’s articles that he had written before the Halloween card. I had found one that got my attention. It was written almost exactly one year before the Halloween card was sent to him directly.

The thing that got my attention about this article is that Paul Avery mentions comic strips and associates the Zodiac Killer with them.

So we know Zodiac would read these articles. And since Avery had already mentioned comic strips and the like it would not be too far of a stretch if Zodiac then decided to use comics for his creations like the Halloween card which was sent directly to Avery one year after this article was published. The idea was already being circulated in the general public. So it was already a thought in many peoples minds.

San Fransisco Chronicle – October 24th 1969

Halloween Card – October 27th 1970

In the clipping it says that the Zodiac is not the zodiac from the comic strip. Maybe for his Halloween card he used certain comics that he thought did give us a clue to who he is. Could this be a connection? Could Paul Avery have given the Zodiac Killer the idea to use comic books to clue us into his identity?

It’s interesting to think that he may have been taunting Avery due to the article he had written about comic strips and sent him a card that is connected to certain comics to help break the code without cluing him into it. Maybe he thought he could connect those dots?

Let’s see what links and information we can find to this comic book theory.

Tahoe27 originally found the connection between the Halloween card and the Lady Doom comic book and posted it to Zodiackiller.com found here.

Let’s look at the Tim Holt issue #30 Lady Doom comic book.

Front Page of Issue #30 Lady Doom Comic

This comic has been linked to the Halloween card by the similarities of the death wheel and the back of the Halloween card.

“Death by Gun, Death by Knife, Death by Fire, Death by Rope”

Back of Halloween Card

The character Red Mask is also linked due to the red mask placed onto the skeletons face inside the Halloween card.

The way the initials of the artist are demonstrated also play a role of similarity.

Notice how the 4 dots within the Halloween card match the shape of the center of the artists initials. The only difference is they are upside down. But they are both in the center. The F is obvious and the only one that is a question is the upside down L.

Is this comic book artist signature a clue to de-coding Zodiac’s signature?

Frank W. Bolle is the Comic Book Artist.

Frank W. Bolle (born June 23, 1924)[1][2] is an American comic-strip artist, comic-book artist and illustrator, best known as the longtime artist of the newspaper strips Winnie Winkle and The Heart of Juliet Jones; for stints on the comic books Tim Holt and Doctor Solar, Man of the Atom; and as an illustrator for the Boy Scouts of America magazine Boys’ Life for 18 years. With an unknown writer, he co-created the masked, Old West comic-book heroine the Black Phantom. Bolle sometimes used the pen name FWB and, at least once, F. L. Blake.

Wikipedia Link

Could this name be a link to Zodiac’s name?

The name Frank/ Francis has come up consistently with all of my research.

The comic is also about Lady Doom and in the Halloween card Zodiac wrote in white paint around the eye that is staring at the red masked skeleton.

“PEEK-A-BOO YOU ARE DOOMED!”

Doom being the linking word in similarity.

In fact the whole Issue #30 comic book following the Lady Doom strip is riddled with many interesting things that can support many of the Zodiacs personality quirks. It almost seems to be a criminals handbook for ideas and ways to fool people and get away with murder.

The man of 1000 faces for instance.

Notice the artist Frank Bolle wrote his name this time instead of just his initials.

Within this issue he describes how he can fool people with disguises and how he has learned to forge other peoples handwriting.

Now that we have seen some of the connections for this comic book and how they link with the Halloween card…let’s look into the history of the character of Red Mask.

I came across an interesting blog by Western Comics Adventures. (Author unknown)

TIM HOLT “becomes Red-Mask!”

“When Tim Holt #19 came out in 1950, the last page of the comic asked the question…” Who is this man?

“…when #20 came out two months later, the readers found out who the masked man was…”

“Many Western movie and tv stars had self-titled comics that played on the conceit that the actors actually were Western characters!

But this was the only series that a “reel-life” Westerner assumed a masked identity he hadn’t played on the silver screen…”

The masked identity became so popular that almost every cover from #20 onward featured the masked hero, and the book was re-titled Red Mask with #42!”

I would think Zodiac probably grew up reading all of these comics and probably was a big fan of westerns as well.

So let’s assume Zodiac used this comic book character to clue us into who he is. The character “Red Mask” is now linked to a real person “Tim Holt”.

Back in those days it seems they wanted people to believe that the characters portrayed were their actual identity. So Tim Holt is Red Mask in real life which is the message they are sending.

But who is Tim Holt?

Wikipedia Link above

Charles John “Tim” Holt III (February 5, 1919 – February 15, 1973) was an American actor best known for his youthful leading roles in dozens of Western films and his co-starring roles in The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948).

Tim Holt was born Charles John Holt III on February 5, 1919, in Beverly Hills, California, the son of actor Jack Holt and Margaret Woods.[1] During his early years, he accompanied his father on location, even appearing in an early silent film.[2] He was the inspiration for his father’s book, Lance and His First Horse.

Holt was educated at Culver Military Academy in Culver, Indiana, graduating in 1936.[2] One of his classmates was Budd Boetticher who recalled Holt “used to walk around in our suite of rooms there…and he often had on his .38 revolvers and holster. He’d walk up and down the hall in his bathrobe and practice drawing his guns. He’d say, ‘I’m going to be a western star some day’.”[3] Immediately after graduation he went to work in the Hollywood film business.[1]

So Tim Holt’s actual name is Charles John “Tim” Holt III.

If you have read any of my previous posts then you know that the names Jack and John keep popping up every time I research most of the clues Zodiac has left us within his cards and letters. The name Frank is also one that pops up over and over and I’ve started seeing George now and again.

Tim Holt’s fathers name is “Jack” Holt. Let’s take a look.

Wikipedia Link above.

Charles John Holt Jr.[1] (May 31, 1888 – January 18, 1951) was an American motion picture actor in both silent and sound movies, particularly Westerns.

Born in 1888 in Winchester, Virginia, Holt was the son of an Episcopal priest.[2] When in Manhattan, he attended Trinity School. He was accepted into the Virginia Military Institute in 1909,[3] but expelled for misbehavior in his second semester there.[2]

Following Holt’s father’s death, the family moved to New York City, where Jack, his mother, and brother Marshall lived with his married sister, Frances.[2]

Holt worked at various jobs including construction of the Pennsylvania Railroad’s tunnel under the Hudson River and being a “surveyor, laborer, prospector, trapper, and stagecoach driver, among many other jobs” during an almost six-year stay in Alaska.[2]

Holt began in Hollywood with stunt work and bit parts in serials and at Universal Pictures worked as a supporting player for Francis Ford and his brother John Ford, and Grace Cunard.

It would seem that both father and son have the same exact name (Charles John Holt) but they are also both more known by a nickname instead. One is known as Tim and the other as Jack. Both are very famous stars and they have even been together in films.

Wikipedia Link

The Arizona Raider is a 1948 Western starring Tim Holt and his father Jack, the only movie where they co-starred.

RKO head of production Dore Schary, impressed by the Holts being in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, gave the film a bigger budget than Holt Westerns normally received.[5] It was also known as The Arizona Ranger.

Now that we have uncovered the identity of the Red Mask, let’s look at the other comic book believed to be associated with the Halloween card.

The September-October 1943 Red Ryder Comic #15 as well as the 1952 Red Ryder Paint Book.

The Red Ryder comic is about a character called Red Ryder and his sidekick Little Beaver. The artist is known as Fred Harman.

Fred Harman (February 9, 1902 – January 2, 1982) was an American artist, best known for his popular Red Ryder comic strip, which he drew for 25 years, reaching 40 million readers through 750 newspapers. Harman sometimes used the pseudonym Ted Horn.

These two comics are also said to be used as the Zodiac’s inspiration for the Halloween Card. The main reason is due to the symbol on the covers of these two comics. It is almost identical to the Zodiac Killers signature on the Halloween Card except these ones have a line on the bottom. But when you look at the envelope the Halloween card was sent in the Z is in the right spot to make that extra line.

Top left image: Halloween card signature from inside of the card. Right image: Envelope the Halloween card was in. Two bottom left images: Red Ryder Comic Symbols.

Top: Halloween Card Signature Bottom Two: Red Ryder Comic Symbols

Signature on the Envelope of Zodiac’s Halloween Card

So now that we see the same similar symbol, the question is what does it mean?

In the context of the comic book it is known as a Cattle brand.

The symbol is known as the Flying VF Bar Cattle Brand

More info

It is commonly called the Flying VF bar. It is also referred to as representing the Big Dipper constellation. It is also said to be the name of the current ranch owner Vincent Fontana. However Vincent Fontana did not own the ranch in the Zodiac era. It was then owned by Jon Clark Cummings, who also used this brand. The Flying VF brand was registered in 1941.

A comment by JudgeJudy on Zodiackiller.com

It is interesting that the name John comes up again. He was the owner of the ranch with the Flying VF Bar Cattle Brands in those days. Another clue maybe? (I still need to find the sources for this.)

In terms of the Zodiac’s Halloween Card creation, the signature is slightly different than this cattle brand.

Another thing that can be considered similar is the negative space within the bottom part of the RR symbol directly above the Flying V.F. Bar Cattle Brand.

The negative space makes a similar shape to that of the 4 dots in the Halloween Card signature. Remember Frank Bolle’s signature in the other comic book with the W? Could this be another clue that the dots are supposed to be lines?

Another similarity is the number 14 or 41.

The Indian is pointing North East after the number 41.

Could this maybe be a clue for directions on a road as well as reversing the numbers? 30 is in the hand of the skeleton as well as the 14.

Place the numbers together then reverse the 14 and it ends up being 4130.

If you reverse this number as a whole you get 0314 the equivalent for PI. Which is found all over the Halloween card. It’s even written within the wrist of one of the skeletons.

Another similarity was the circled symbol that looks as if it could be an axe or the letter T on the Red Ryder Paint Book. If you look closely into one of the skeletons left eye in the Halloween card you can see a T written within in a circle.

I also noticed there is a tent and a broken arrow next to this symbol.

It makes me wonder if this is a victim of the Zodiac killers. Maybe a child or a boy-scout was killed in a tent by an arrow, knife or even an axe who’s first name starts with a T. The fact that the letter T is within the skeletons eye could mean that the boy was last seen in the eye of the killer….the skeleton representing one of the murderers.

I also noticed that the same skeleton is holding up his hand in the shape of a lowercase b which is right next to the T. So initials could be T.B.

The reason I bring this up is due to some of my first work on the Halloween card. I had actually found a code within the card and broke it. I found not one but two full names/ two killers who appear to be family related with the same last name. This is what lead me on a goose chase to finding all the same names many times over within all the clues Zodiac has sent in his correspondences .

I also found directions within the code to a certain location. The starting location given was S.E. PA, Paradise. I will not go into the full logistics of the entire code and how it works. But here is a very small piece from my original work. It was done through a chronological method of matching letters, numbers and imagery similar to a card game like rummy but also different. Notice how the letters in SECRET PAL are all in big caps the same as how Zodiac wrote the back of the card message PARADiCE / SLAVES.

As I followed the directions I had decoded they lead me to a church where I had later found out a boy had been stabbed multiple times within his tent. The case is still unsolved. His initials are T.B. and the murder happened exactly six months and one day before the Halloween card was received. This would have given Zodiac ample time to create a well laid out coded card as well as deliver it on the 6 month anniversary of the killing.

Another interesting thing was the hand imagery and directions S.E. of PA, Paradise matched the hand with the 14 reversed. (Directions starting at Highway 1 then to 41 then to 30)

Remember how I had placed these numbers in this order 4130 reversed 0314 or 3.14

However the directions did not lead into Paradise. It was just the place that was shown within the Halloween card as the first location to look for. A more in depth look at this may be a post for another day. But I will say that it was up one big thirteenth. (113) Which coincidentally I found out this number is also linked to the number 3.14.

Part of the 13 hole punch postcard Zodiac sent October 5th 1970 within the same month he sent the Halloween Card

As of right now this is all speculation, but it is a strange and very bizarre path that I have found. Maybe one day we will find out if there is any truth in this. Until then all we can do is speculate and ask the question “what if…?”.

I’m sure there are probably a few more things that are similar within this comic book to the Halloween card but lets start looking at the characters of the comic book now.

About the Red Ryder Comic Book Characters

Astride his mighty steed Thunder, Red was a tough cowpoke who lived on Painted Valley Ranch in the Blanco Basin of the San Juan Mountain Range with his aunt, the Duchess, and his juvenile Native-American sidekick, Little Beaver, who rode his horse, Papoose, when they took off to deal with the bad guys. Little Beaver spoke in the pidgin English now considered an offensive caricature (for example: “Spinach heap good. Me like’m!”). Other notable characters were ranch hand Buckskin Blodgett, Red’s gal pal Beth, and bad guy Ace Hanlon.

So now for the question… who was Red Ryder?

Jim Bannon was who portrayed Red Ryder’s character in film. He was also well known for his most prominent acting role for being a detective called Jack.

Jim Bannon

James Shorttel Bannon (April 9, 1911 – July 28, 1984) was a radio announcer and Hollywood Western film actor known for his work on the I Love a Mystery and Red Ryder series during the 1940s and 1950s.

Bannon began his broadcasting career on local radio station KCKN, then briefly at KMOX in St. Louis. He moved to Los Angeles in 1937, beginning his show business career in radio as an announcer on The Great Gildersleeve, The Chase and Sanborn Hour, and Stars over Hollywood, among others, with his most prominent acting role being that of Detective Jack Packard in the serial I Love a Mystery.

Bannon is best known for being the last of four actors to portray the fictional cowboy Red Ryder in the long-running B-movie series, completing between 1949 and 1950 what would be the final four pictures in the franchise that were distributed by Eagle-Lion Films

What I noticed instantly when I saw this is the last name almost matches completely with the last name I had decoded in the Halloween Card with one difference; an o instead of an a.

(Bannon / Bannan)

The other thing I noticed was his initials. which are J.B. (Jim Bannon) and that his most prominent acting role was being Detective Jack Packard.

His sons name is also Jack Bannon.

John James Bannon (June 14, 1940 – October 25, 2017) was an American television and stage actor, known as Jack Bannon.[1][2] He was best known for his role as Art Donovan on Lou Grant, a role he played for the duration of the series, from 1977 to 1982.

At age 24, Bannon began working as a dialog coach on Petticoat Junction.[3] In 1963, he appeared in the Season 1 episode “Kate’s Recipe For Hot Rhubarb” of the series as Bobbie Joe’s date, Roger. In 1969, Bannon was seen again on Petticoat Junction (after his mother died in 1968) appearing as “Buck” in the episode “One of Our Chickens Is Missing”.[4]

Bannon’s signature role was that of Art Donovan on Lou Grant. The actor’s film career included What Ever Happened to Aunt Alice? (1969)

Are these more coincidences and are they linked?

Perhaps Zodiac did use these comic books for his inspiration to create his Halloween card. Maybe he wanted us to find them and find the links. Or perhaps he didn’t think we would ever find them and he got off on never being able to be caught even though the clues were placed. It makes you think though.

I definitely see many similarity’s. And in my opinion I believe he used techniques of hiding things in plain site with multiple meanings using imagery similar to that of other things to help us make a connection. It draws our eye from one place to the next. Artists have been using this process for a very long time. And isn’t that what the zodiac is in a way; an artist?

In my next post I will be taking a closer look at the Dripping Pen Card Zodiac sent. Did you know dripping pens link back to the same names?

Pen leakage

Meanwhile, many inventors turned their attention to the problem of leakage.[20] Some of the earliest solutions to this problem came in the form of a “safety” pen with a retractable point that allowed the ink reservoir to be corked like a bottle. The most successful of these came from Francis C. Brown of the Caw’s Pen and Ink Co. and from Morris W. Moore of Boston.[21]

In 1898, George Safford Parker released the Parker Jointless, named so because its barrel was single-piece to prevent leakage. The section assembly fit into the pen’s end like a cork stopper; any leaked ink was kept inside the nib.[22]

In 1908, Waterman began marketing a popular safety pen of its own.[23] For pens with non-retractable nibs, the adoption of screw-on caps with inner caps that sealed around the nib by bearing against the front of the section effectively solved the leakage problem (such pens were also marketed as “safety pens”, as with the Parker Jack Knife Safety and the Swan Safety Screw-Cap).[24][25]

If you feel that I missed something that should be added to this blog please leave a comment. I will update with things that are needed.

If you would like to see a more in depth look at how the comic books help to unlock the Halloween card signature please take a look at a previous blog here.

A few links to Jack.

A few links to George – This is a name that can also link with the Halloween card.

Links to Frank – I have not written this blog quite yet as Frank comes up allot but here is an added link to the name Frank from the stamp on the envelope of the Halloween Card.

The Zodiac Killer – Exploring the comic book theory and how two of them might have been the inspiration for his Halloween Card. Allot of speculation has been going around that the Zodiac might have used a few comic books as his inspiration for the creation of his Halloween card.

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kairiofknives · 7 years

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The Founding of The Guild (TftTG Chapter 1)

Part of a multi-chapter fic called “Tales from the Thieves’ Guild. Read on AO3.

Summary: The former Phantom Thieves of Hearts may have set their days of stealing treasures behind them, but their journey together is just beginning. Every day can be an adventure when you live with all of your best friends. Follows the life and times of the Phantom Family whilst living in what became known as the Thieves’ Guild. Takes place a year or so after “Trading Hearts”.

In this installment: Haru and Akira do some soul searching and stumble upon the coolest idea ever had.

Mornings at LeBlanc were Haru’s favorite time to work. The regular early morning guests would file in for their much needed coffees before heading out to brave another day in Tokyo. After the 7 AM rush, the shop was quiet, with only the lovely backdrop of singing birds and the distant sounds of the trains to grasp her attention. The angle of the sunlight through the window was also pristine, lighting up the wood of the benches to make them look bright and inviting.

Gosh, she was starting to sound like Yusuke.

The thought brought a smile to her face nonetheless. It was March, just after the last of the school year. Ann, Ryuji, and Yusuke had just graduated, much to her and Makoto’s relief. It seemed like every single day recently the former Phantom Thieves gathered to play games, hang out or just exist in the same space. Even Makoto joined in on their fun, pushing off her internship work just enough to let her hair down for once. They hadn’t spent this much time together since the days of after school Palace infiltrations and driving aimlessly through Mementos. Haru sighed happily. God, she loved her weird little family.

Her pessimistic side whispered that their closeness now was a testament to the limited time they had left. Sure, Haru and Makoto had been out of high school for a year, working and going to college respectively, but the vast majority of their group had still been in highschool, so there were only really three schedules to work around. Now, Ann would pick up modelling full time, Yusuke would start travelling for his art, and Ryuji would be getting his coaching certification. The only person guaranteed to be free in the afternoons would be Futaba, stuck in high school for two more years. Six schedules to work around would make meeting up quite difficult.

Haru sighed, resting her head against the counter top of the bar. She didn’t want things to change. If only there were a way to give them a reason to stay together…

A series of clumsy thumps coming down the stairs shocked her out of her contemplation. From around the corner emerged a familiar mop of black hair as well as Morgana, who happily leapt onto the bar to greet her.

“Good morning, Haru!”

She smiled serenely. The last piece of their family puzzle, the joint presence of Akira and Morgana, had just returned to Tokyo about a week prior. Her mornings were even better now that she could count on Akira fumbling down from the attic when the smell of coffee finally made its way up to his bed. While she was glad to see the two, and was overjoyed that their group hang outs were entirely complete with their addition, she mourned the fact that she still had no idea how long they would be staying or what Akira’s next move would be. Though, from her short talks with Boss and Makoto, Akira also didn’t seem to have that figured out yet.

Said boy, still in his sweat pants and black long sleeved sleep shirt, plopped down on the stool next to Morgana, seeming still half asleep. Their eyes met and he smiled lazily “G'morning.”

“Good morning to you two as well! Would you like some coffee, Akira?”

“Better make it a good bitter as hell black roast, Haru. This genius stayed up until 3 AM with Futaba even though he knew we were planning to go to Seaside Park at 10 this morning,” Morgana quipped, with his typical cocky expression on his face.

She looked at Akira for confirmation, who had that dumb happy smile on his face that usually showed up whenever someone mentioned Futaba. It was quite adorable, really, how smitten he was. “Just fuck me up, fam,” he nodded, yawning and stretching a bit.

Haru giggled. “Coming right up!”

It was interesting to Haru how Akira and Futaba had yet to announce that they were dating. It had been over a year now, after all. She remembered when Futaba had rushed off by herself to Kyoto to meet Akira. Ryuji and Ann had gone on and on about how cute it was that she had such an obvious crush on the elder boy and made guesses concerning when they would finally confess to one another. Haru had barely restrained her laughter, sharing a knowing look with Makoto, the only other member to have discover their relationship status without being told. Makoto had figured it out through context clues. Haru had figured it out when Boss asked her to deliver dinner to Futaba in her room and had heard the two flirting aggressively over Skype. It was heartwarming really. A romance fit for a fairy tale. The thief who stole the maiden’s heart to save her life settling down for a calm life, enjoying mutual freedom with the woman he fought so hard to rescue. How ideal.

Haru’s smile fell. She cast a glance at Akira. How tragic she could never be with the man who saved her from her wretched fate…

No, she repremanded herself. That didn’t matter now. Akira was one of her trusted friends. Her family. That could be enough.

And besides, she thought, pouring the newly made coffee into a cup, Futaba was probably much better suited to Akira’s tastes. Who could possibly end up wanting the spoiled brat of a twisted businessman, now doomed to struggle with the strife of being his only inherent for the rest of her life? She sighed. Such was life.

As she set the coffee down on the table, watching with amusement as Akira gagged and scrunched his face up at the bitter taste, the bell to the shop’s front door rang and in filed their little family, excitedly chattering to one another and demanding breakfast from poor Boss. So much for a quiet morning. Futaba rushed over to sit next to Akira, narrowly beating Ryuji, who scowled at her for the offense of stealing his best friend’s attention. Her victorious grin and boasting laughter was enough to put that dopey smile back on Akira’s face and that was quite enough for Haru, thank you very much.

She turned away, slightly desperate for something to do. And then came Makoto, carrying the dirty coffee cups left over from breakfast, her own personal knight in shining armor. (Or she, supposed, skin tight leather armor.) “Here,” Makoto offered, “I’ll help you get these cleaned up before Boss starts cooking.”

Makoto’s kind smile and warm company soothed her for the moment. “That would be wonderful, Mako-chan. Thank you.”

~~~

They stayed out almost the entire day, riding the ferris wheel and playing games. They agreed to eat dinner at the diner, mostly to give Boss a break from their rambunctious presence, but also because Ann had to start her “crazy unfair stupid no fun” diet next week and wanted to enjoy food as much as she could before then. She had just gone to the bathroom to wash her hands when Makoto came out of a stall. They shared a smile in the mirror. Haru was just about to leave when Makoto spoke up.

“Hey, Haru. Do you have a moment?”

By her tone of voice, Haru could guess that Makoto was going to field one of her theories. Basically nothing got passed her and she tended to confront people about things as soon as she was convinced she was seeing what she thought she was. Might as well let it happen. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Makoto sighed, turning off the sink. “Honestly, I’d rather talk about what’s on yours. You seem bothered by something lately.”

Haru nodded, smiling wryly, “A few things really.”

Her friend took a step toward her and drew her into a hug which she very easily accepted. “I know you’re a capable young woman. I won’t bother you anymore about any of this. But, maybe, if these things involve a person specifically…you should talk to them about it? I hear that person is really sweet about these things. And if you ever wanted to talk to me, I’m always here.”

Haru nodded into Makoto’s neck, squeezing her tightly. “Thanks for looking out for me Mako-chan.”

“Anytime.”

~~~

The next morning, Haru was still attending to her regulars when Akira came down. He was already dressed for the day and, much to her surprise, immediately grabbed an apron from the rack and asked what orders she still had yet to fill.

“Um. You really don’t have to do this, Akira.”

The boy smiled at her, cleaning off his glasses and acknowledging, “I know, but I want to. I loved working here before last year and it’s not like I have anything better to do. So, are you going to let me help or what?”

As dedicated and stubborn as ever, that Akira. She smiled and rattled off a couple orders to him, filling the others herself. Between the two of them, they had served everyone and even done any necessary refills in no time. It was a different sort of feel. She was used to silently going about her tasks and enjoying the serene morning glow and smell of fresh coffee. This time though, there was small talk and laughter passed between the pair as they worked. Akira was a damn good barista from his extensive time learning from Boss. Haru felt like it was a challenge to defeat not only her own standards, but her “rival” as well.

It was the best morning she had had in awhile.

When the regulars were mostly gone, she expected Akira to leave. Instead, he made them both cups of coffee and settled down at the bar.

“I feel like we haven’t spoken very much since I left,” he explained before she could even ponder why he chose to stay indoors with her when he could be anywhere else by now. “I loved learning about coffee and hanging out with you back then. I miss it.”

Her heart clenched painfully. If only he knew…

“I…missed it as well, Akira. But us not talking as much is to be expected, right? I mean, you’re busy with Futaba and figuring out your life…”

Akira was silent for awhile, observing her idly while stirring his coffee. After awhile he nodded to himself and sheepishly muttered, “Ah. I’m sorry, Haru. I’ve been a bit oblivious haven’t I?”

A blush grew on her cheeks. Her heart pounded from shock and slight fear of where this conversation could be headed. “You’re…sorry? Um. W-what do you mean?”

“I haven’t been very considerate of your feelings is all.” Akira shook his head, looking so…sad. It was almost painful to stand there and look at such an alien expression on his face. “I kind of knew you felt, well, something for me back then. I mean, there was my stunt at the school festival and how everyone kept assuming we were together when we were dealing with your father’s old employees and your fiance. I…know I didn’t respond to your feelings back then, but I never quite gave you a flat out answer. I guess I just didn’t want to hurt you unnecessarily.

"But, honestly, I really should have. I see that now,” Akira stood and came around the bar to stand before Haru, bowing deeply, “I’m sorry I didn’t handle this very well. Please forgive me.”

Tears sprang up in her eyes. “A-Akira, what brought this on? I don’t understand…”

The boy righted himself, scratching at his neck awkwardly. “You’re bothered by it, right? Futaba and me?”

“Oh. Um.” She couldn’t quite get the words out. Breathe, Haru, breathe.

“We have been trying to not be too…public with our affections. Even Sojiro doesn’t like to see the evidence, even if he is ok with our relationship in theory. I’ll talk to Futaba about it and see-”

“N-no! Please. Please don’t! I.” She paused hugging herself and trying hard to regulate her breathing. Understanding flooded into Akira’s eyes and he nodded, giving her time. If there was one thing she adored about Akira, it was how he seemed to understand her without her having to speak. Truthfully, that was true of all their members, but it still managed to surprise her.

Haru took a shaky breath and explained, “Please don’t change what you and Futaba do on my behalf. That’s not fair to either of you. I don’t want that. You two seem so happy and I am honestly happy for you. It’s not your relationship that bothers me, it’s…” She sighed, shook her head. “This is just…my issue to deal with. And I will deal with it! Really. I just…need to work through some things.”

Akira nodded. “I understand. I don’t know how useful this could be, but…if you wanted to try to talk through what’s going on with me, I’d be more than happy to listen.” He coughed, grimacing a bit. “I definitely get it if that is the opposite of helpful though.”

Haru considered this. The two people Haru had always found it easiest to talk to about such things were Akira and Makoto. And she really did hate how distant she felt from Akira currently. Maybe it wouldn’t help, but would she actually know until she tried?

The cafe was empty. And Boss wasn’t due to come in until 10. They would have a good hour. She turned back to Akira and smiled shakily.

“If…you’re sure. Shall we get some more coffee and sit down to talk?”

~~~

“So if I might try to summarize: long story short, the biggest problem is that you feel like we are all drifting apart and don’t want that to happen.” He paused to let Haru correct him. She merely smiled and motioned for him to continue. “With me specifically, you’re sort of jealous of me being in a relationship…because it might mean we don’t talk as much. It’s not like you wanting to be with me in place of Futaba, but like you feel like us dating takes both Futaba and I away from you in some sense?”

Haru nodded sharply, “Yes that is an excellent summary.”

Akira hummed to himself, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table. “I certainly get the fear that we might drift apart. I can’t deny that I’ve thought of that myself. Though, for all the thought, I’ve come up with no way of fixing it.”

The girl sighed, threading her fingers together. “Nor have I.”

They let the conversation stew between them for awhile. Though, it had mostly been a half hour of her venting, Haru was certainly glad she decided to try this. Akira was a splendid listener and putting her feelings into words made them seem less daunting than they really were. Perhaps the greater issue at hand had yet to be solved, but she felt better than she did before, for certain.

“Well, I think we may need to think about the drifting thing a bit more. But, as for our relationship, how about we go do something fun, just the two of us? No better way to prove that me dating Futaba doesn’t stop you and I from being close friends than going out and enjoying time together, right?”

Akira’s sweetness never ceased to amaze her. Haru giggled, “That does sound wonderful. And I will certainly endeavor to do that with both you and Futaba in the near future, but sadly my uncle has asked a favor of me this afternoon.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

She stood, gathering their dishes and brought them to the sink. “Well, he owns a piece of property out in Hiroo, very close to Shibuya. He had it remodeled because it seemed like a wonderful place to rent out, but with my father’s passing he decided to vacate it. He’s not sure if he wants to sell it or go through with renting it, but he is concerned that it might have been broken into or fallen into disrepair. He’d like some photos.”

Akira stood, coming to help with their dishes. “Well, I still have nothing planned for today. And I have heard that Hiroo has some pretty swanky residences. I’d be interested in seeing the place if you wanted company.”

Haru smiled, “Well alright. If you insist on being bored, there really is no help for you.”

They waited until Boss got in and took over the shop and then set out. It was strange, but as Haru followed Akira out into the backstreets, she couldn’t help but feel as though all her problems were solved. She boarded the train for Shibuya filled with optimism and excitement, though she was yet to know quite why.

~~~

“Are you sure this is the place?”

She laughed, “Knowing who my father was, you still need to ask? I am certain this is the right address.”

To prove her point, she typed a code into the locked gate, which immediately clicked and fell open. Akira raised a brow, seemingly impressed.

As they walked up the walkway Akira whistled, “This place is huge. Who exactly did your uncle expect to be renting to?”

Haru investigated the door. No signs of any forced entry. Satisfied, she fished the key out from her purse and pushed the front door open. The sky was still plenty bright so the lack of lights on didn’t bother her in the slightest. They stepped into the main foyer and Akira’s jaw dropped.

With a giggle, Haru explained, “It could have been a lot of things. Family with at least three children or hoping to accommodate their elderly parents. It’s not all that special. But it is large, I suppose. A four bedroom and three bath home is hard to snag nowadays.”

Akira floated around the home, remarking on the quality of the kitchen, the laundry room, and most of all, the extremely large living area. It was a bit like a pit, with three couches in the shape of a rectangle missing one side. There was an unoccupied TV stand on the wall so that all couch occupants could see it clearly. The main room had a hallway leading off to one bedroom, the master suite with an adjoining master bath. The stairs were at the beginning of that hallway and led up to a balcony type hallway overlooking the living room. There was another large bedroom with a bathroom of its own straight ahead from the stairs and two more smaller bedrooms and a hallway bathroom for the two to share to the right, situated above the master bedroom. One of the single bedrooms was small but had a huge walk-in closet. The other was a wide open room with wooden floors as opposed to the beige carpet of the hallway and a pitifully small closet.

His tour of the house left him standing in the upper landing, thoughts ablaze. Each bedroom had its own distinct feel to it. It was like they were made for specific personalities.

Interestingly enough, they were personalities much like ones he knew and loved.

Haru came up the stairs, phone in her hands and a smile on her face. “Well there doesn’t seem to be any damage to any of the house or the furniture. It’s a bit dusty but that’s nothing the cleaning staff couldn’t fix. I’m sure Uncle will be pleased.”

Akira nodded but remained silent. Haru made an inquisitive noise. “Is everything ok, Akira?”

“How much would your uncle probably ask in rent?”

Haru’s eyebrows shot up at the question. “Oh. I. Well, I don’t know. It is a nice location and mostly furnished. I suppose it would depend on the tenets. Why?”

Akira turned to Haru, eyes alight with an idea. The familiarity of that look enthralled Haru. “Why would we all drift apart? What’s changing now that dictates that?”

The woman hummed, shifting her weight back and forth, “Well, it’s just that Ann, Ryuji, Yusuke and you aren’t in highschool any more. You’re not necessarily tied down to this place anymore.”

Akira nodded, “Yeah, because the next natural step after graduate high school is moving out of your parents place and either going to University or getting a job, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“There are plenty of opportunities in Tokyo and outside of it, and none of the others have those set in stone yet. So the reason we could drift is if the new opportunity forced a change in location.” Akira, paused, licking his lips. “So what if we just all localized to the same location before we even started looking for those opportunities?”

Haru frowned, “I am a bit confused.”

Akira shook his head wildly, pulling Haru forward, “Look. Look at this room. Large open space, large window with a view, wooden floors, no preference for closet space. The person would use the room for something messy, thus the the wooden floors instead of a carpet. Doesn’t need a lot of stuff though. Who does that remind you of?”

Haru stared into the room for a moment, picturing it, before the light bulb in her head visibly turned on and she whispered, “Yusuke.”

Akira smiled excitedly, bounded to the next room over. “How about this one? Smaller room. Space for maybe a Queen sized bed at most but look at this closet. It’s huge. Who has enough clothes to need a closet like this?”

Haru chirped immediately, “Ann!”

“Right! The other two rooms are large. We could fit two, maybe even three people in each of them. Ryuji and I could bunk together. You and Makoto were already talking about renting a small place when Makoto’s lease was up. Futaba could squeeze in somewhere else as long as she has a dedicated place for her computer and Morgana could own the entire living room if he so chose. One of those couches has a pull out bed in it, too.”

As he spoke, the idea Akira was trying to explain took root in Haru’s gut and grew larger and larger until her whole body was tingling with excitement. “The whole group could live together. Like a dormitory just for us,” she whispered, awed.

The pair stared at each other, expressions a mix of excitement and disbelief. Haru wasn’t sure who started giggling first, but before long they had collapsed into each other’s arms, tears in the corners of their eyes and laughing heartily. When they separated, Haru rushed to take pictures of the other rooms and then immediately called her Uncle.

“Hello, Uncle! Yes. Yes, the house is just fine. It looks great actually, no damage whatsoever. Mmhmm. I can send the pictures immediately. Oh, it’s no trouble at all. You’re very welcome. No, there’s no need to pay me. Actually, Uncle, I have a question for you…”

~~~

“So where exactly are we going, you guys?”

Akira and Haru shared a grin, looking back at their group of friends with glee. “Oh, come on Ryuji, you don’t want to ruin our fun, do you?”

Ryuji huffed, “I don’t know, man. You two have been acting weird for the last week or so. Asking us what are plans are, if we started looking for apartments yet, all this future oriented crap in such a short time gives me heartburn and you know it. Then you demand we all meet up and go to an undisclosed location? Yeah. I’m suspicious.”

Makoto laughed. “Oh, Ryuji. Please don’t ever change.”

Futaba smirked at Akira’s side, holding a squirming Morgana. “Still, that was a surprising coherent thought for Ryuji. And not entirely unjustified.” She turned her attention to Akira, narrowing her eyes in challenge. “I wonder what Mr. Leader has cooked up this time.”

Akira beamed down at her, “While I would love to say I am responsible for this, that honor is completely Haru’s.”

A scoff cut him off, “Akira please, this was all your idea. Don’t discredit your own stroke of genius.”

“Ah, but I was powerless to do anything about my genius idea. You’re the one who slaved the week away making it a reality.”

Yusuke chuckled from Ryuji’s side. “I, for one, am interested to see what could bring us to this part of town. Especially if it involves Haru.”

Ann nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, yeah! Isn’t Hiroo like one of the richer parts of Tokyo? If there’s gonna be food involved, I’m so down!”

Makoto giggled, “I thought you were officially dieting Ann?”

A horrified gasp came from the blond, her hands over her heart. “Makoto! I expected that level of betrayal from Ryuji, not you!”

They all laughed as Akira and Haru came to a stop at their gate. Haru turned around to the group and grinned. “Here we are!”

Haru punched in the key code and opened the front door, letting everyone file in. The various shocked exclamations brought warmth to Akira and Haru’s chests.

Makoto was the one to finally ask the question of the hour. “This house is gorgeous, Haru, but…what are we doing here?”

Haru squealed a bit in excitement, beginning, “So, Akira and I were talking about how we know everyone is going to be starting new chapters in their life soon. And I was worried that those new chapters would mean not seeing each other as often.”

Akira cut in, “Haru’s uncle owned this place and asked her to come check out the house to make sure it didn’t get damaged or broken into while vacant. And I couldn’t help but notice how large it was and how many bedrooms there were. And Haru just happened to mention that her uncle was looking to fill the house.”

“So,” Haru jumped back in, “we thought we could potentially kill two birds with one stone and I told my uncle my plan. And he was very receptive and not only did he approve, but he gifted me the residency in exchange for a few favors on my end.”

The group stared blankly, trying to process what was being said. Finally, Futaba spoke up, “So…Haru owns this house now?”

Akira and Haru both nodded.

“And,” Makoto inquired, tone surprised, “the implication is that we could… live here?”

Haru beamed, “Akira and I did the calculations and between all of us, the utilities should only be around 16000 yen a month. We would also need to buy ourselves some furniture and hire movers to get our things here, but that seems like a minor down payment for a low monthly price.”

Ryuji sputtered, “Only 16000 yen a month? Really? For THIS place? Holy fucking hell man, that’s…that’s…”

“Unheard of,” Yusuke finished, seemingly in a daze.

Akira and Haru shared a grin again and Akira turned back to the group, “So…what do you guys think?”

It was quiet for a minute. Then, Ann burst into tears with a loud wail and flung herself into Haru’s arms. Makoto leaned against a wall to steady herself, equally shocked. Ryuji was also steadily crying while Yusuke had a smile on his face so large it looked like it might split his face. Morgana took off to investigate the house and Futaba sidled up next to her boyfriend, grinning.

“Very nice surprise. It suits us. After all, could you imagine us co-dependent assholes trying to exist separately? Ha!”

Akira wrapped his arms around Futaba and nuzzled into her hair. “No. And now I don’t have to imagine it.”

Futaba placed her arms up around Akira’s neck, stepping up on her tip toes. “You did good, Leader. I’m sure the group will be super duper happy.”

One eyebrow quirked, Akira puzzled, “Not you?”

She shook her head a bit. “I’m gonna stay with Sojiro until I’m out of high school. I feel like we still have some time to make up for, ya know, due to the whole shut in period? Gotta capitalize on that Father-Daughter time while I can.”

Akira nodded, smiling, “God, you’re such a freaking angel. No one deserves you. No one.”

Futaba laughed and pulled down on Akira’s neck. “Yeah yeah, I’m perfect. Ya know what’s actually perfect? Your lips. Now get down here and kiss me with them!”

She could still feel Akira’s patented Joker Smirk when they kissed. Honestly, kisses tasted better when Akira was being a cocky son of a bitch. Though she would never admit it out loud.

The silence of the room alerted her to something being amiss. She and Akira’s eyes both opened and they slowly pulled back, staying in the circle of each other’s arms as they looked around. Ann had a comically wide gaping smile on. Yusuke was blushing a bit. And Ryuji, of course, was scraping his jaw on the floor from how open in shock it was.

Futaba huffed. “You guys are a year and change late. Haru and Makoto figured it out ages ago. Get. Good.”

Then the noise was back in full scale, laughter and hugs and a single resigned “you guys are gonna lock me out of the room to make out huh?” rang out through the space.

The group took a tour of the home, allowing everyone to pick their rooms. As expected, much to Akira’s pleasure, Yusuke and Ann immediately fell in love with the small single bedrooms. There was no contest at all on that front. Ryuji jumped up and down excitedly at the idea of rooming with Akira, babbling about all the anime they’d have to watch and the massive amounts of video games they’d be playing together. And Makoto and Haru happily agreed to share the other two person room. Both boys insisted that the girls take the master suite, since they had more belongings and the house was technically Haru’s.

Futaba and Ryuji sat down immediately in the upstairs large bedroom, making plans to turn the room into the ultimate bunker for bad decisions and senseless gaming. Included in their discussion was the writing out of a list of pledges they would make to each other, so that they could best share Akira’s attention, and accommodate the couple’s alone time without disrespecting Ryuji. Makoto slumped against the kitchen counter at the thought of Ryuji being mature and decided they needed to keep the fridge stocked with wine, much to Morgan’s amusement.

The group spent hours enjoying planning out their new home’s make up, none wanting to leave even though the last trains would be coming soon. Right before they left, Akira called everyone into the living room for one final surprise.

“Well, I’m glad we all seem to be enjoying this new development. I can’t wait to get started turning this place into our new home. And the first step, I think, is a declaration that this house is ours. So, you guys can put your two cents in, but I went ahead and had this made.”

From under one of the couches, Akira pulled a wooden sign. It has metal attachments so that it would hang snugly above the door, large enough to be readable from the street. In the wood was burned a single title, one that immediately brought a grin to every face. Perhaps they were entering a new chapter of life, but that certainly needn’t be without fond memory of the chapter that brought them all together. Ryuji and Yusuke took special care to hang the plaque up before they left.

Before turning to make the walk back to the station, the young adults admired the sign, which proudly read, “THE THIEVES’ GUILD”.

#persona 5 #akira kurusu #akira x futaba #futaba sakura #haru okumura #fanfiction #my fics #the hermit and her joker #tales from the thieves guild

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luucarii · 7 years

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Persona 5 Ramblings

this shit is long. like really long.

and I sound like a crazed fangirl so....

MAJOR SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. IM TALKING ABOUT LIKE ALMOST EVERYTHING BUD!!!

also, i curse way too much in this... apologies in advance

also, happy father’s day even though this has nothing to do with it :)

THIS IS ALL BACKGROUND ON ME BEFORE I GOT THE GAME SKIP TO THE NEXT BOLD PART IF YOU WANT TO HEAR MY OPINION ON THE GAME ITSELF.

Okay, so I’ve mentioned vaguely how Persona 5 is my first encounter with the Persona series. I’d heard bits and pieces about the series but I never really understood the concept of Persona until maybe mid April of this year. I was on spring break from school and I don’t remember how exactly how I stumbled across it but i found this playthrough of Persona 5 on youtube and I was mildly interested. So I clicked on it, and into the emotional rollercoaster that is this game i went.

At the time, there was only about 11 episodes of the play through (each around an hour long) so I binged watched each episode ending up with me staying up past 2 am. I was just so invested. The opening drew me in the minute the camera showed off that smug little bastard Joker’s smirk over the casino (I’ll get into why I love this kid and the rest of the cast later). I was confused since I was going into Persona 5 with no knowledge of the whole concept of Personas at all. I was kinda just like “wow this looks badass. What is he doing? Oh my god, this game is so pretty.”

I ended up skipping around once I got tired of waiting for a new episode and watched this long ass livestream. I got to about Okumura’s Palace before there was nothing left for me to watch but the boss battles uploaded, which did spoil me a little bit and got me a bit confused but I was so interested that I honestly didn’t care. I was so surprised at Niijima’s Palace and her boss battle as a whole and was like “SHIT THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF THE GAME!!!! OH MY GOD EVERYTHINGS BACK”

From there, I skipped straight to the traitor - aka Akechi’s battle - and can I just say, I was not surprised that he had a Persona but I was surprised that he betrayed the group considering all the story shit I skipped. Shido’s fight was fairly interesting to me but again, I skipped a bunch of story shit so I was really just rooting for the Phantom Thieves because this was THE ASSHOLE WHO GAVE MY POOR LITTLE AKIRA A CRIMINAL RECORD.

Skipped a bunch of shit again and onto the fight with Yaldobaoth. At this point I was drawing a lot of similarities to Xenoblade Chronicles, fighting a God for freedom and then THEY PULLED THE WHOLE BELIEF THINGY (which they did at the end of Okami as well) AT THE END WITH MISHIMA AND THE REST OF TOKYO BELIEVING IN THE THIEVES AND I WAS SOBBING LIKE A LITTLE BITCH AT 2 AM.

And after that, I made it a point that one day I’d play this game for myself. And it was maybe a few days after that I finally got the game.

Now at the time (and still now) I didn’t own a PS4 and was forced to use my brother’s when he was at work. Adding to the fact that school was beginning to start up again, I had at most maybe 6 hours to play a day if homework didn’t take up all my time. So what might’ve taken me a few weeks to beat took me almost 2 months to beat because of timing.

BUT OH WELL, I HAD THE GAME, I PLAYED THE GAME, I LOVED THE GAME AND NOW IM GOING TO SQUEAL LIKE A FANGIRL OVER EVERY ASPECT OF THIS GAME THAT I ADORED.

GAMEPLAY

Okay, so I’ve played my fair share of JRPGs and Persona 5 was a nice familiarity. All the dungeon crawling, the fighting, turn-base combat, ya’ll get it.

BUT UM THESE DUNGEONS (Palaces if you would) ARE FREAKING GORGEOUS, HELL THE GAME ITSELF IS GORGEOUS.

Each Palace and their respective Shadow ruler has their own design, personality and each are based on the seven deadly sins which (after finishing FullMetal Alchemist a few months earlier) I thought was clever and interesting.

Kamoshida’s castle was a nice balance of a first dungeon and “hey we’re not gonna hold your hand, this is fairly simply kill some Shadows, find the infiltration route and don’t get kicked out.” ALSO RYUJI AND ANN’S AWAKENINGS. JUST THAT. INCREDIBLE.

Madarame’s museum had a little bit more difficulty but was still fairly easy. The security bars kinda gave me a little anxiety considering I was still getting used to all the controls (I had just finished an Xbox One game before playing this so my buttons were mixed up) and the little painting guessing game was a bit dumb considering each Sayuri looked EXACTLY THE SAME TO ME (except the color swapped ones) ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING YUSUKE WAS THERE AND COULD HAVE EASILY TOLD US BUT NO HE WANTED TO TEST AKIRA’S ART SKILL. ARE YOU APART OF THE PHANTOM THIEVES OR NOT YUSUKE??????????

but i digress…

Kaneshiro’s bank was fun but GOD SEND THOSE FREAKING SECURITY CAMERAS AND THOSE SHADOW DOGS TO HELL OH MY GOD I HATED THOSE. See my thing is, I’m not exactly a stealthy person. Which is why I love hiding because you can sneak up on Shadows and ambush them easily. I hate raising security level and those damn dogs were so annoying and just ugh. Those dogs are honestly one of the few grips I have with the game. Also, MAKOTO IS THE ACTUAL QUEEN.

Futaba’s temple was by far the longest one for me in terms of gameplay hours (in game time took me about 2-3 days) but it was still fun nonetheless and I’m glad Futaba (who is one of my favorite female characters) got some closure on her story with her mother and was able to rise above that. I’m a sucker for tragic backstories when their well executed. (i still to this day do not know how to pronounce her Persona…)

Okumura’s spaceship was my favorite aesthetically because I’ve always been interested in space and the stars and the little puzzle at the end with the space pockets was a nice bit of challenging and flying through Metaverse space. ALSO HARU HAS FLUFFY FLUFF HAIR AND HAS MY SECOND FAVORITE PHANTOM THIEF OUTFIT

hmm, i wonder who has my favorite Phantom Thief outfit... Joker... It’s Joker... god damn those red gloves

Niijima’s casino, which OH MY GOD WERE BACK TO THE BEGINNING AND AKECHI’S WITH US AHH, and WHIMS OF FATE IS BEST PALACE THEME.

It was my favorite palace, no questions asked.

Shido’s ship was another long one but finally getting revenge on this dick was incredible. Also, AKECHI AND RYUJI PLAYING WITH MY FEELINGS.

Mementos was a good idea as a whole but the way it was executed everything just sort of blended together for me and there were only a few requests that stood out to me. The music was bland (one of the blandest on the soundtrack, especially compared to the other Palace themes casually mentions Whims of Fates again) and during the late floors of Mementos, everything got so dark and it was really hard to see.

CHARACTERS

expect this to be me screaming a lot.

Akira Kurusu (Protagonist)

okay, um, i love this boy. like a lot. LIKE I WOULD DIE FOR HIM.

For a silent protagonist this guy sure has a lot of character. The rare times he speaks in cutscenes, specifically the ones where he’s Joker, he has this sort of cocky arrogance yet when he’s little Akira in his Shujin uniform he’s a quiet little curious boy. He’s incredible under pressure, like there’s only a few things that make him crack and his dialogue options are priceless.

I especially love Joker because I’m an honest to god mess when it comes to smug bastards and I have an unhealthy love for those crimson gloves of his.

But honestly he doesn’t deserve half the shit he gets in game. Besides the whole “game” set up by Yaldobaoth, he was sent away from his family and presumedly the friends he had back in his hometown all because of his probation, literally no one treats him with any sort of respect when he gets to Shibuya. Sojiro reminds him countless times the first what 3-4 months that he’ll be kicked out if he breaks his probation which (besides doing all that illegal shit as Phantom Thieves) he honestly just goes to school (a place where he gets even more shit from teachers and students), hangs out a little after and comes straight home. I know Akira’s been established to have a bad reputation because of his record but don’t these people have eyes??? Can’t they see that he’s obviously not a bad guy based on what he’s doing in school and not getting involved with the police??? Sojiro's exempt from this because he at least grows to like having Akira around and trusts him enough to go out at night, work in the store alone and lock up from him when he leaves.

AKIRA IS A GOOD BOY WHO DIDN’T DESERVE ALL THE SHIT GIVEN TO HIM

Also, Xander Mobus did a good ass job with his voice

Ryuji Sakamoto

see this post that basically sums up my feelings on this boy.

Also, Max Mittelman.

Ann Takamaki

CAN I JUST SAY ANN IS ONE OF THE BESTEST FRIENDS IVE EVER SEEN???????

Like she went through all that shit with Kamoshida, the harassment, possibly rape, all for freaking Shiho’s sake. Just… wow. That’s some freaking loyalty there. Shiho's the closest friend she has at Shujin (at least before the events of the game) and God knows how long she went along with Kamoshida’s bullshit all for Shiho. I mean I may sound a bit repetitive but holy shit that just amazes me. SHE. ENDURED. SEXUAL. HARASSMENT. ALL. FOR. HER. BEST. FRIEND. And the minute she watched Shiho’s suicide attempt that was it. Any last bit of restraint she had left broke and she went full on at Kamoshida all for revenge for her best friend. My god.

Onto her confidant ranks, Ann is just a charismatic bundle of joy who just wants to make people happy. Yeah she butted heads with that girl (forgot her name…) and did fall down a little in terms of confidence but Akira and Shiho helped her through it and brought her back on her path of what she wants to do… Just ugh, I love Ann so much.

Yusuke Kitagawa

Yusuke’s a fan favorite and for good reason.

His backstory about how Madarame took him in after his mom died and overlooked his painting which led to the later plagiarism is an interesting one and I love how the Sayuri, the only thing left to connect him to his mother, is an important factor that leads to his realization of “oh shit this guy’s a dick who watched my mom die without helping her and he used me for money and fame.”

As a character though, Yusuke’s freaking weird. But i love him because of it. He has his formal tongue but that formal tongue casually overlooks any weird shit that comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t give any flying fucks about what people think of him and he speaks his mind like there’s no tomorrow. I still crack up at the nude painting scene with him and Ann because his mix of awkwardness and passion to paint a nice ass picture is just incredible. Also, another thing. He’s. So. Damn. Passionate. Like he ties art into everything, even fighting Shadows and he’s always looking for new ideas for paintings.

Also, Matt Mercer

Makoto Niijima

MAKOTO IS QUEEN.

She’s not my favorite female, that role goes to Futaba but she’s definitely number 2.

I genuinely have a love for the Niijima sisters because they complement each other so well. Sae’s the head of the house who also works tirelessly just to support her younger sister and it’s clear to see why Makoto would feel useless. She’s a high school student and as a student you really can’t do much that’ll pay the bills and keep food on the table unless you have a job which Makoto’s student council president and (i’m assuming) is in everything so it’d probably be hard as is to get a job and be of some sort of use to her sister. Then Kaneshiro comes around threatening her and Thieves and her sister and she just doesn’t want to feel useless anymore. She wants to do something after being forced to sit back and watch other people be counted on. And just, ugh, her awakening is by far my favorite out of all of them just because of everything behind it and just MAKOTO IS AMAZING, CASE CLOSED.

Also, Cherami Leigh.

Futaba Sakura

By far my favorite female as I feel our personalities are pretty damn similar. Besides her being a hacker and me not knowing anything about possibly illegal things like that, I relate to Futaba as she’s an introvert. She and I value our alone time and (although for different reasons) like being shut in. Now I’m not going to say Futaba and I share the same backstory because my God I’m honestly baffled how this girl went through years in solitude after her mother’s death thinking it was her fault. For one, she WATCHED HER MOTHER DIE IN FRONT OF HER. HOLY SHIT HOW DID THIS GIRL MANAGE TO FUNCTION WITH THAT MENTAL IMAGE IMPRINTED IN HER BRAIN???? AND THEN FOR YEARS ON END SHE LOCKED HERSELF UP AWAY FROM THE WORLD AND BEGAN HAVING ACTUAL PHYSICAL AND VERBAL HALLUCINATIONS AND IF IT WASNT FOR THE PHANTOM THIEVES SHE PROBABLY WOULD HAVE ENDED UP KILLING HERSELF AND I DONT WANT TO THINK OF A WORLD WITHOUT THIS ADORABLE LITTLE OTAKU.

also, i really ship her and Yusuke Inari

Haru Okumura

For one, Haru is freaking adorable, I mean look at her. She has the short little fluffy fluff hair and her voice is so light and feathery and polite and WHY DOES SHE COME SO LATE IN THE DAMN GAME????

I was lucky enough to manage to finish her confidant before the end of the game but when her confidant first opened up to me (getting rank 5 Proficiency was a bitch) at that point I was planning on not doing her confidant at all, I was just planning on getting Baton Pass and ditching her because I didn’t think I’d finish it. I did (at the cost of not finishing Makoto’s, still extremely disappointed on that) and I have to say Haru’s confidant was by far my favorite one out of the ones I maxed out.

Her whole thing is now that her father’s dead, she’s basically the one inheriting everything from Okumura Foods and she never really understood anything to begin with and she thinks everyone who’s trying to help her is just doing it for their own self-gain. Okumura Foods, at this point, is attempting to rise back up after all the shit her father put the company through and all the current bad reputation it has. Haru’s never had a chance in her life to make things for herself. She’s always been told what to do and has been very obedient (even agreeing to marry a literal dickhead all for her father’s company) and suddenly she’s given all control and doesn’t know what to do with it. All these happy smiling faces offering their help just seem like people attempting to take advantage of her incompetence. Akira helps her through it like the amazing boy that he is and Haru ends up finally being able to speak her mind about the company and what SHE wants to do. She gives the company up to someone who she believes is trustworthy and decides that she’ll one day open a small little cafe like Leblanc in the future after college. And honestly, just her overcoming her distrust and her previous shell of being obedient to rising up and making her own decisions it makes me so happy and proud to see her grow and change and just UGGH I LOVE EVERYONE IN THIS DAMN CAST.

Morgana

This cat, literally this cat. HE BELONGS WITH AKIRA AND THE REST OF THE THIEVES NO ONE CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.

Loud-mouthed, a little bit arrogant, Morgana is just an amazing character in general for me. I know Ryuji’s technically supposed to be the comic relief (and he does fulfill this role, don’t get me wrong) but I feel Morgana takes this spot too, especially the two bickering like an old married couple. I know some people hate on Morgana because of how he treats Ryuji and the amount of “go to bed” memes on Tumblr but all around Morgana is just a cat who was just looking for a place to call home. He was just looking for people to accept him.

And a part of me honestly hopes if there’s an add on for this game in the future, Morgana gets a human form because I’d love to see that.

Also, please tell me I’m not the only one who still mixes up Morgana’s gender. I still sometimes call him a her just out of habit because I can’t hear Cassandra Lee Morris as anything but a girl.

Also, Cassandra Lee Morris.

Goro Akechi

OKAY SO CONTROVERSY??? MAYBE??

I LIKE AKECHI

NO FUCK THAT

I LOVE AKECHI

LIKE HONEST TO GOD THIS BOY DESERVED BETTER.

Don’t misunderstand, I know he killed people. I know he caused all those shutdowns and was planning on killing the Thieves and eventually Shido himself (which now begs the question, say he did kill Shido, what next?)

I’m not denying anything he did. And yes, his backstory (although extremely saddening) does not justify his actions. He knew what he was doing and he still did it.

Akechi took the wrong path in his life. If anything you can sort of compare his story to Futaba’s in the sense that they both lost family members and were left with nothing. In Futaba’s case however, she still had people trying to help her. She had Sojiro who took her in after her uncle was abusing her or something and she had the Thieves who literally changed her heart and made her see the truth.

Akechi had absolutely nobody.

His mom died (suicide if I remember correctly), he was thrown into foster care, his own father (seriously, fuck Shido. Not just because of how he was with Akechi but everything in this damn game) didn’t even knew he existed. He had no acknowledgement, no affection, nothing. He was forced to make do with what little scraps he could find and make a life for himself.

Again, don’t misunderstand me. I know he killed people and his backstory does not justify his actions because he knew what he was doing was wrong. I’m just saying maybe if he had someone, anyone who was there to help him out, to pull him out of his misery he most likely would have been a different person. He wouldn’t have had his revenge for Shido be his only reason for living and he wouldn’t have gone out the way he did. It’s hard not to feel bad for him. He’s been alone all his damn life and all this guy really wanted was a friend, some teammates, people who wanted him around. I just wish Akechi had gotten a way to repent. I hate the fact that he died. One because we lost a good character and two because I genuinely believe that he wanted to change at the end. Akira changed him. The Thieves changed him. I wish he had gotten an ending where he could own up to his mistakes and be able to make up for lost time.

Just… ugh.

I’m apart of the “Akechi deserved better” group.

And I also ship Akeshu really really really hard.

Also, Robbie Daymond was freaking fantastic.

VERDICT

THIS IS LONG ENOUGH SO LET ME SUM IT UP IN A SENTENCE.

PERSONA 5 IS AMAZING, I LOVED IT.

#ari speaks?#long post #persona 5 #tw #p5 spoilers #I honestly could write about this game all day #sorry for the long post #i needed to get this out #just i absolutely loved this game

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towncalledkingdom · 7 years

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I had not even been in the Tower for a week when my mind broke. The smell of the previous Watchman- so recently the indication of life, now the steady spector of decay- permeated every corner of the open room. I left his sheets standing in the wash water for days, sleeping beneath his old, thick blanket. A single crate of food was dropped through the ceiling trapped door the day after I was imprisoned, but I did not see who brought it. I lay as if dreaming on the mattress, fighting down paranoia and nausea as day and night passed unnoticed outside the thick glass windows.

It was hunger that finally dragged me from my stupor. I’d spent three days between the mattress and the toilet, occasionally sticking my face beneath the sink faucet for a drink. Old sweat and the stink of the same clothes I still wore made my stomach turn as I pried off the wooden lid of the crate. Dried meat and vegetables had been neatly arranged inside. I would soon learn that this would be my new diet- dried produce and meat, sometimes nuts. They would not be sending anything fresh for fear of rot in the Tower. I would not be brought down if I was sick; no one would set my bones to heal if they broke. Whoever was sending my meals would simply wait until I died and replace me with another Watchman. This, at least, was common knowledge.

As I ate my first meal my attention went to the room for the first time. I had been so focused on my fear, so absorbed in my own head that the physical space and objects had been nearly invisible to me. I saw them, then. The remnants of the Watchmen’s collective madness. Deep gouges lined the floor around the toilet and stories drawn in pictograph had been etched into the ceiling. Nearly every available surface was lined with them- the tales and observations of my predecessors. Some looked like cave paintings or hieroglyphic murals. It appeared that one Watchman had claimed a single floorboard and carved his story into it in tiny flowing script. Other, more stable Watchmen had recorded their thoughts in one of the hundreds of notebooks stacked beneath a desk. It was a black plastic object, however, that ultimately drew me back to reality.

A blocky tape recorder sat on the counter next to the old Watchman’s spoiling sheets, an artifact like any other technology brought in from the outside world. I’d seen one once before during a delivery visit to the Philosophist sector of the Church of M. Worshippers had crowded around the device then, fielding an endless stream of questions off of each other. What does it do? How does it work? Who did it come from? They’d found a way to power the device and pressed its many buttons until sounds began to emerge from its fuzzy speaker. Music filled the triangular room that day, and everyone grew quiet, reverently listening to “Overkill”- some rock n’ roll band from the outside world.

I assumed that I would again hear rock music when I pressed a button on my own tape recorder. I heard a click and the button flung back into place. I pressed a different button, one with a backwards arrow, and watched as the black ribbon of the tape wound itself onto its other wheel. I pressed play again. A man’s terrified voice exploded from the speaker, startling me so hard I nearly fell to the ground. I had not yet learned the value or purpose of the volume switch. Instead, I sat back on my bed and gnawed at my beef jerky, allowing the man’s words to wash over me.

“This is Stuart Wells, the Watchman,” the tape began after a long fit of coughing. “I am recording this because I don’t know where else to turn. I believe that someone is coming to kill me.” The man’s voice rose an octave and cracked several times like a boy going through puberty, though the body I’d seen had been around my father’s age. He cleared his throat again and tried to calm himself. “There is an armed man coming toward the Fire Tower as I speak. I know this man. He is carrying a Privateer tranquilizer gun and a small bottle of something on his belt. He is large and strong with steel gray hair and deep lines in his face. I would fear naming him, but at this point it may no longer matter. He is at the base of the Tower. No one should be at the base of the Tower in the middle of the night. No one should be climbing the ladder unless they are bringing my supplies. If these are my last words, let them serve as a warning to the one that follows me: find a way out. Don’t let Kingdom raise you up just to cut you down. Break down the walls if you can. Destroy the evil we have created. Don’t die alone in this wretched Tower!“

Stuart’s voice stopped abruptly. A light tapping came from somewhere in the distance. The trapped door creaked on its hinges.

“I don’t suppose it matters now if you speak to me, does it?” the Watchman shouted, probably more for the benefit of his recording than for the person listening.

Another man answered him, his voice low and cold, “This isn’t personal, Stuart. All these years climbing this same ladder, I wish we could have spoken before. I never wanted it to be this way.”

“And yet you turn the wheel,” Stuart sighed. “What are you going to do? Knock me out and put something down my throat? Claim I got sick up here and passed on? Then what, oh mighty Warden? What’s your big plan?”

The man’s voice didn’t change. "You probably saw me putting everything together before I began my walk over here. We can cut the debate. In another life I’d let you write down some last words, but you understand that I can’t.”

“In another life you wouldn’t have let that woman poison our land,” Stuart scoffed.

“Kingdom has always been poison. There is no happiness here.” The Warden sounded mournful, apologetic.

“That’s not what I’ve seen,” challenged Stuart. “You think because you’re life has gone to shit that everyone else’s happiness is irrelevant? You think that every laughing kid and every land-loving farmer feels the way you do?”

“It doesn’t matter how they feel, I have to do this. It’s the only way. I need… I need to replace you.”

The men were silent for a few moments. One began to sob quietly. Stuart finally found his voice. “And you think you can put someone in here without the Council’s permission? You think you can just blow right by the choosing ceremony and throw whoever you please in here?”

“The Council will do as I say,” the Warden bristled. “I’ve spent years guiding them toward this. No one will say a word about it.”

Stuart paused as if considering. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I can say to stop you.”

“No, Watchman, I don’t suppose there is.”

Something clicked. Furniture crashed to the floor. An object hissed through the air and Stuart cried out. “It was Monroe!” he screamed. “Warden Robert Monroe murdered me! He murdered me!” The Watchman’s voice slowed, quieted, and finally stopped. Metal clanged. Something heavy landing on the floor. Footsteps and then a horrible, muffled choking.

“Hello, Eli,” said my father, speaking to me through the tape. "I have to say I didn’t expect things to work this way, but I did what had to be done. Things are getting bad with Eleanor, worse than you will ever know. I’m not a good man, son. I’m a terrible father, I know that. But I want you to live. I want you to understand this place, and if there’s anyone alive who can reverse this downward spiral, it’s you. Kingdom must survive, but first we have to break it. We’ve become backwards, comfortable in our ignorance. Our culture teeters on the verge of the abyss and we blissfully dance along it. I don’t know how events will play out in the weeks to come. I don’t know when or if you will listen to this, it may be the last time you hear my voice.”

Emotion choked my father’s voice for a moment and passed as if it had never been. “I am leaving you two gifts, son. After I leave you here it will be your responsibility to live, and to decide what to do with what I’ve left you. You will find the first sitting on the uppermost shelf in the cabinet. It is notebook with a list of all of Kingdom’s leaders and their spheres of influence, their attitudes toward each other as best I know. I’ve filled the rest with every detail I could think to write about our town. With a little luck you can join my knowledge with the documented information passed down by previous Watchmen.”

“My second gift is highly illegal and must be used with caution. Look at your bed. With your eyes trace a straight line from where you would lay your head to the wall beyond. I am installing a speakerbox there. I am leaving you a gift no Watchman has ever been given before- the gift of communication. I’ve arranged things so that no one will visit the room after I leave, this should be fairly easy to get away with. The box will only reach one person in Kingdom, son. It is up to you and that person to decide how you will proceed. Do not try to contact us. Do not try to contact your siblings. The person has been given strict orders to ignore such liabilities.”

“Phylla holds power because of their physical prowess. Eleanor and I control trade and the loved ones of many of Kingdom’s elite. The Church of M can often move the common man to their will, they can inspire a simple farmer to revolution should they wish to. Smoke University guides the town’s narrative and aims research for Kingdom’s future, and the Apothequarium may be the single entity standing between a person’s life or death. Most know and respect the workings of these factions. But they will not know you. They will look into the cameras hidden in their homes and wonder if you are staring back. You will be the phantom in the alley, the shadow in the woods, the tapping in their ceilings. You will rule coincidence. You will be the eyes of an intangible being, Eli, but eyes are useless without a body. I will give you the first piece of that body- I will give you a mouth. Find the other parts. When you are ready, when you have found your mind once more, go to the speakerbox and whisper a single word: Mercury.”

#ATCK #dream transmission #Eli #watchmans log #eleanorsucks #stuartwells #Warden Monroe #amwriting

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thepathsofdestiny · 7 years

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Trail of Embers, Ch. 3 - The Devil’s Wife

~*~ Marta. Glory's ex-lover, and the bright lure that drew her into Harrow's clutches. A year ago, Glory and Poplar broke into Feuerstelle and saved Marta and a slew of acolytes from Harrow's poisonous influence. Now Marta has returned, a ghost from Glory's past, and in her wake follow demons of her own...

Read it on AO3 here. ~*~ Der Feuerstelle. The Fireplace. A log cabin tucked away in the wooded heart of Schonbuch Forest, lit from within by a warm, inviting glow. Despite its rustic appearances, make no mistake. This place was a castle, and Harrow, its king. And today, his acolytes- his loyal subjects- were gathering in the main lounge, crowding around the spoils of Glory’s latest ‘expedition’. The new trid player dominated the wall of the lounge. It was almost comically ostentatious, starkly at odds with the lodge’s wood-panelled floors and bearskin rugs. Never mind that Harrow had stolen it from a dead man. Never mind that Glory had been the one who killed him.

The acolytes didn’t care. They chattered amongst themselves, babbling in excitement. Harrow himself stood in their midst, his arms wide, drinking in their praise, their blind adoration. “Let it not be said that I do not provide for my people,” Harrow said, lips curled into a toxic grin. Glory lingered in the corner of the room, shying away from the spotlight. Marta sidled up beside her, curling an arm around her waist. She lay her head on Glory’s shoulder, smiling into her throat. “That was quite the prize,” Marta cooed. “The initiates will love it.” “I don’t know,” Glory teased. “I think they just love him.” Harrow gestured, and the crowd of acolytes parted before him. He bowed deeply at the waist in a grand gesture, a caricature of reverence. “My queens,” he said, grinning up at the duo. “Let it not be said that I do not provide for you, either.” He tipped his chin to the picture hanging on the wall- the other newest addition to the main lounge. Glory and Marta turned and gazed up at themselves, captured in acrylic and framed on the wall, the frame itself embossed with an icon below- a pair of antlers, cradling a flame. “Never forget that it was I who made this sanctuary for you,” Harrow said, addressing the crowd. “And never forget who it was who found you on the street, those who lifted you out of suffering and brought you here. Marta. Glory. My queens; my wives. My left and right hands.” Harrow smiled an intoxicating smile. Marta and Glory parted, obediently draping themselves on either arm. Their hair was dyed crimson, the mark of Harrow’s favor. But in astral space, their hair was fire-red, blazing like a crown... ~*~ Glory woke with a gasp, her steel knuckles digging into her cheek. She’d only dozed off for a moment, but she didn’t dream; ever since the surgery, Glory never dreamed. She only remembered. And there were some things she would never forget. Glory sighed, blowing away the memory like a mote of dust straying near her face. They had needed a place to lay low after the commotion they’d made at the docks. David took them to the first place that came to mind- which was why Glory and Marta were sitting across from one another in the attic of a local bar, music thrumming under their feet, the sound of clinking glasses drifting up from below. Despite the noise, a dreadful quiet had settled between them. David reached down and placed two cups of soykaf on the table, to muted thanks. He put his hands in his pockets, fidgeting. “I’ll, um. I’ll go keep watch,” David said, before wandering off. Glory watched as Marta reached forward and took the cup. She didn’t take a sip; she just held it, her hands clasped as if in prayer. Glory had read somewhere that holding a warm beverage stimulates the same part of the brain as human contact. That when you’re lost, or lonely, holding a warm cut is almost like holding hands. Not her hands, though. Her hands were cold steel. Marta was still wearing the midnight-blue robe of the Church of the Nameless Queen, the sign of Venus hanging around her neck like an ankh. But she’d ditched her veil, exposing her hair, and she wore her robe open, like a long coat, over her street clothes. Her hair spilled across her shoulders, dark and undyed, though the tips still held a red that wouldn’t wash out, glowing like embers to the magic in her veins. She was beautiful, Glory thought. She was still beautiful, after all these years. But she was no longer the honey trap, the bright lure that drew her, and who knew who many others, into the gaping maw of Der Feuerstelle. Gone was the intoxicating allure, the treacherous torchlight drawing moths to the flame. Instead, hers was a haunted beauty, a sadness behind every smile- she was Penelope gazing out at the coast, kissed by the seaborne breeze. Marta survived Harrow, just like Glory. She survived, but was not unscathed. And seeing her now… Glory didn’t know what to think. They were dark mirrors of each other, rust red and midnight blue. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Marta began, breaking the uneasy quiet. “It’s… it’s so good to see you, Glory. Running into you like this, purely by chance? It feels like a dream. It feels like… like…” “Providence?” Glory offered. “...Yeah,” Marta breathed. “You, um. You look great, by the way. That coat looks fantastic on you.” “Thanks,” Glory smiled in her eyes, not quite reaching her mouth. “It was a gift.” “I wanted to call,” Marta said. “I promised you I would, after I had time to… figure things out. I tried, but then Saeder-Krupp moved on Berlin, and I didn’t- I didn’t know. I didn’t know where to find you. I was so scared, Glory. I didn’t know if you were…” “Here I am,” Glory said. Marta swallowed. Nodded. “Here you are.” Marta took a sip of soykaf, uneasy quiet hanging between them. Glory gazed at her, unblinking, her brown eyes ringed with red- a legacy of the magic she held, what felt like a lifetime ago. “You have a new totem,” Glory said. It wasn’t a question. “I do,” Marta said, reflexively touching the icon around her neck. “The Nameless Queen, embodiment of divine womanhood. All goddesses are one within her. My matron, my, um, sponsor, if you would, is Hecate. Goddess of magic, and the crossroads- where one road becomes three.” “Fitting,” Glory mused. “I thought so,” Marta smiled. “What about you? You have a new totem, too.” “I’m no shaman. Not anymore.” “But there’s a spirit bound to you,” Marta said, “I can see it, in your heart.” And, indeed, she could. In the shadows of astral space, Glory’s cybernetics deadened her astral signature until she was no more than a silhouette, a phantom- save for the green fire in her heart. Within that flame lurked a man, strongly built, with olive skin and a stag’s skull for a head, draped in crawling ivy and smelling of spring and honeysuckle. His was, by all means, a comforting sight. But Glory’s voice yanked Marta back into realspace. “Ask before you read me,” Glory snapped. “I- I’m sorry,” Marta said. A chilly quiet settled between them once again. Eventually, Glory sighed, her expression softening. “He is the Heart of Feuerstelle,” Glory explained. “Do you remember? A year ago, when I broke into Feuerstelle-” “Of course I remember,” Marta said. “When Harrow being a liar and a con artist just wasn’t enough, he turned to toxic magic to keep us in line. And then you came back. The prodigal child. You came back, and set us free. Me, the kids… and that spirit, bound to his service.” Marta exhaled. She looked up. “That man with you now. Was he part of your old team?” Glory shook her head. “That’s David. He’s new.” “What happened to your team? What happened to the woman who was with you when you came back to Feuerstelle a year ago?” “Poplar? She…” Glory hesitated. “She’s… still around. Still leading the team. When S-K took over Berlin, we managed to get away. One of us stayed behind, tried to fight it.” Glory’s expression dimmed. “...You can imagine how that turned out.” “I’m so sorry, Glory,” Marta said. “It’s how he would’ve wanted it,” Glory shrugged. “Poplar found us a new place. A new info broker. Even had some new work lined up…” “But…?” Marta asked. “But I had to leave,” Glory said. “If I stayed, I knew I’d stay forever. So I had to leave. I had to find Harrow, and see this through.” Glory heaved a weary sigh, combing her fingers through her hair. “Then… then things got complicated. Then I found out that Feuerstelle was only one small branch of a really big, really fucked up tree. The Firepact is much bigger than Harrow. I spent months tracking down and wiping out cells where I could, but Harrow’s always been just out of reach. Now I’m getting notorious enough for them to send assassins after me. I’m almost flattered.” “But David’s been with you for all that, right?” “No,” Glory said. “I only met David a few days ago.” “Glory,” Marta pressed, “you’re telling me you’ve been hunting Harrow- been targeted by assassins- and you’ve faced this all alone?” Glory closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The slightest breeze ruffled her hair and filled the air with honeysuckle, her hand reflexively rising to her heart. “Not alone,” Glory said. “No. Not alone,” Marta said, rising to her feet. “Not anymore. Take me with you, Glory.” Glory grit her teeth, a warning creeping into her tone. “The last time I took you with me, Marta, I almost had to kill you. You were fine with Poplar and I purifying the Heart of Feuerstelle. You were fine with Poplar and I getting Harrow’s initiates out of there. But as soon as we even mentioned going after Harrow himself, you snapped and turned on us.” “But then you purified the Heart,” Marta reasoned, “and I came to my senses.” Glory exhaled. “Marta…” “Please, Glory,” Marta begged, leaning over her in her chair. “I want Harrow brought to justice as much as you do. And I don’t want you facing all this danger by yourself. Take me with you, Glory, and we can hunt him down. Together.” Marta was so close. Glory looked up at her, meeting her amber eyes, the edges stained with red, marked by Harrow’s influence just as Glory’s were. Memories flicked past Glory’s eyes- laughter, secrets, adrenaline, heat, two little fingers curled in a promise- but, like their eyes, these echoes were stained, poisoned, touched with fire and soot. Glory stood, holding Marta’s longing gaze. She reached up and traced a finger along Marta’s cheek, and down her jaw. With hands made of military-grade steel and ceramite, the gesture felt halfway between loving and a threat. Glory saw the question in Marta’s eyes. “Marta…” Glory breathed. “I know this isn’t what you want. But I… I don’t know.” Marta nodded. “I understand. I’m gone for a year, and suddenly I show up out of the blue. After everything that’s happened, I can’t just expect-” “Stop that,” Glory said. “Just come here.” They embraced, Marta’s arms around Glory’s neck, Glory’s coiled around Marta’s waist. Marta gasped, blinking away tears of bittersweet relief. She tucked Glory’s head under her chin, her fingers curling through Glory’s long, dark hair. Despite the cool metal of Glory’s cybernetics, she was a flame in Marta’s hands. She was real, and warm, and alive. The Rose Compass in Glory’s coat pocket was oblivious to this heartfelt reunion. It shone golden-red, like a torch, or a warning, its finely engraved needle spinning wildly in place… ~*~ Across the city, a mob was forming. But there were no torches and pitchforks, no passionate rhetoric, no hateful cries- only an eerie, shuffling quiet of blank-eyed street punks and salarymen lining up for a riot in nice, orderly lines. Firepact Agent Flint sat on a defunct newspaper box, sipping whiskey straight from the bottle. After one last unsatisfying sip, he tossed the half-empty bottle into the crowd. A middle-aged office drone caught it, tore a strip of fabric from his shirt, and stuffed the wick down the bottleneck, all without changing his blank expression or looking anywhere but straight ahead. Sister Ashe appeared, looking resplendent in white and red, though her robe was staining black with soot. “We lost Servo,” Ashe said, lightly. Flint sniffed. “Not much of a loss.” “That’s cold.” “It’s true,” Flint shrugged. “The Communion Project was a waste of time. Overriding people and controlling them through their chipjacks… Pfft. So high-brow. So roundabout. You don’t need all those fancy gadgets to get your way. You just need a little money, and a little charisma.” “We can’t all speak the Word, Flint,” Ashe chided. “We can’t all be so charismatic.” “You can,” Flint grinned lecherously. “Why don’t you tug down that collar, and show me some charisma?” “I think I’d rather fuck one of your thralls,” Ashe spat. “At least they don’t talk. Now listen up, numbskull. Orders came down from the top. We have a second target now- another traitor to the cause. She was seen fleeing the mess at the docks along with our primary.” “Don’t you mean your mess at the docks?” Flint drawled. “You mean, after your mess in the commercial district?” Ashe sniped. “We can do this all day, meathead. But we have our orders, from Harrow himself. Apparently, he had history with these two.” Flint groaned, getting to his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Gee. What an appropriate and effective use of the Pact’s resources, sending the Branded against his ex-wives.” “Why are you so grumpy?” Ashe asked. “Still mad that the girl made a mess of your drones?” Flint shrugged, gesturing to the massed ranks of blank-eyed thralls crowding the street. “There are always more pawns.” Flint stepped forward, his mob following in his wake with limp, shaky steps, mere puppets on strings. The brick walls and wooden eaves of a church rose above them, its steeple crowned with a cross and a ring- the sign of Venus, icon of the Nameless Queen. Flint pulled a lighter out of his coat pocket and tossed it into the crowd behind him. A thrall caught it, bearing the wick-stuffed bottle of whiskey Flint had given him earlier. A ripple spread through the crowd as a dozen other thralls produced bottles, wicks, and lighters of their own. “Ignite,” Flint ordered. ~*~ “We’re coming to you live from Halcyon City’s northern sprawl, where what appears to be a chemical fire has broken out along the harbor’s shipping district. The warehouse where the blaze began seemed to be abandoned however, and as of now, no corporation has stepped forward to claim the damages…” David watched grainy drone footage of the fire at the docks, the aftermath of their fight with Sister Ashe’s summoned daemon, presented by an improbably handsome news anchor who’d likely never set foot in the sprawl. Black-bordered captions scrolled up the screen, just out of sync with the pantomiming host, while obnoxiously loud bar music throbbed in his ears. David buried his head in his arms with a groan. The bartender, a rotund woman with warm brown skin and an even warmer smile, merely grinned and turned the music down a few notches. “Everything alright there, kiddo?” She asked. David propped his chin up on his crossed arms. “Hey, Shanti. No, Shanti.” “Relationship troubles?” David quirked his lip, indignant. “Must everyone leap to that conclusion? She’s my boss.” “Easy mistake,” Shanti shrugged. “A kid, a nun, and a chromed-up stranger walk into my bar…” “I’m not a kid anymore, Shanti,” David pouted. “I’m turning thirty in a couple weeks.” “You’re under my roof, you’re still a kid,” Shanti smiled. “Mm,” David hummed. “I’m sorry to come by on such short notice. Thanks for letting us use the attic for a little bit.” “Now, you look at me, child,” Shanti said, leaning on the bar counter. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” “Shanti, I promise you, we weren’t followed-” “That’s not what I’m asking,” Shanti pressed. “David, are you in trouble?” “I… No,” David swallowed. “No. It’s a job. It’s just a job.” “If I hear you’ve joined those damned Hammerheads, I will kick your ass.” David chuckled, although he knew Shanti could very well do it. “No, Shanti. But I am going to be leaving the city for awhile. Work’s taking me on the road.” “And how long have you been working for this woman?” David blinked, and cleared his throat. “Um. About, uh… two days.” “Glory, child,” Shanti threw up her hands. “Where are you running to in such a hurry?” David stared down at the counter, tracing the grain of the wood with his eyes. Shanti watched him, one hand on her hip, her brow creasing with worry. “Or…” Shanti said, “is there something you’re running from?” “Don’t worry about me, Shanti. Everything’s fine.” David’s eyes flicked over to the stairwell, where Glory appeared, silent, inscrutable. He swallowed. “...Everything’s fine, right?” ~*~ Up in the attic, the noise of the bar below faded to a muffled, almost reverent, quiet. David and Glory lingered by the stairs, while Marta sat in a far corner, hands clasped, praying or napping, David couldn’t tell. He couldn’t blame her, either; it had been a long night. And he had the creeping suspicion it was only going to get longer. “You were never properly introduced,” Glory said. “This is Marta. She’s… an old friend.” “I’d seen her around the Church,” David said. “She was always Sister Magdalene to me. I didn’t know you knew her. Lucky you ran into her here.” “Too lucky,” Glory said. “Remember the woman from the docks? The summoner?” “Sister Ashe?” David asked. His lips curled into a frown. “...Glory, the Sisters don’t-” “Have anything to do with the Firepact?” Glory asked sharply. “When one of the Sisters is Harrow’s ex-wife? When another Sister is Branded, one of the Firepact elite?” David exhaled. He pressed his lips into a line. “Maybe Sister Ashe was a plant,” he reasoned. “A spy, acting on her own.” Glory raised and lowered one shoulder. “Maybe.” “I refuse to believe that the Church of the Nameless Queen is just a front for some cult mafia.” Glory fixed David with her eerie, unblinking gaze. She lifted her hands, palms out, by means of apology. “...Nothing is certain,” Glory exhaled. “Personally, I hope you’re right. Maybe Ashe was just hiding in plain sight, with none of the Sisters the wiser. There’s no point in speculating now. If the Firepact is sending assassins after me, I take it that means I’m gaining ground, and getting too close for comfort. We need to pick up Harrow’s trail and get moving again. We need to get out of the city.” David nodded, his gaze turning to Marta’s form, still but restless, at the far end of the room. “What about her?” he asked. “Marta… wants to join us.” “Oh,” David blinked. “That’s good. That’s good, right? We could use the help. I’m sure you could use the company.” “I’ll thank you not to comment on my social life,” Glory said flatly. “Read her.” David swallowed. He blinked, and his vision slid into astral space, the dim light of the attic fading into charcoal-gray shadows, the light of life blazing like fireworks. Glory was a phantom beside him, a hole in the world where a person should be, save for the shining emerald flame of her heart, and the spirit bound to it. Glory’s Essence was a shredded, tattered mess only just gathered together into a threadbare whole, contained within a web of green light. Marta’s Essence unfurled like waves on the shore, in ocean blue and seafoam green, but it still showed signs of scarring- the lingering effects of some foul, hateful presence that seared David’s mind’s eye and made him flinch away. “She’s whole,” David said, slipping back into realspace. “More or less. But her edges are frayed, like, like the singed edges of a paper held too close to a flame. There’s a mark there, like a scar-” “Or a brand,” Glory finished. “The mark of The Horned King.” David turned, meeting Glory’s eyes. “...Glory… you don’t think she’s-” “I don’t know what to think, David,” Glory exhaled. “I know that the Horned King left its mark on both of us. I know that the Horned King had one of his servants hiding out at the Church of the Nameless Queen. I know that the Horned King isn’t above forcing obedience when words aren’t enough.” Glory’s stare grew flinty and hard. “...I know that, years ago, the Horned King took control of me, and tricked me into doing something unforgivable. I know that I got this surgery and mutilated my Essence, buried my magic under steel and chrome, so he would never have that power over me again.” “But Marta still has her Essence,” David said. “She doesn’t have that protection.” “No,” Glory agreed, her voice low. “She doesn’t.” David stuck his thumbs through his belt loops, heaving a sigh. “Glory. I think-” David’s commlink chirped, sharp and shrill in the attic’s restless quiet. He glanced at Glory, sheepish. “Sorry,” he muttered, lifting a hand to his earpiece. “Hello-” “David!” Petra’s harried voice crashed into his ear. “It’s Petra. Have you-” “Didn’t you say this was a private frequency?” “And who made those comms for you, numbnuts? Just shut up for a second. Have you seen the news? Did you hear about the fire?” “Yeah. Uh. We ran into some trouble on the docks-” “Forget the docks. The Church! The Sisters are under attack!” ~*~ Fire exploded across the Church of the Nameless Queen. Firebombs crashed against the steeple, the roof, the walls, the lawn, stoking a bonfire that few would escape. Smoke choked the air as flames raced across the complex, engulfing the library, the kitchen, the shelter. The city’s homeless rose from fitful sleep and awoke to a nightmare, of dancing fire and curling smoke, of phantoms standing in the flames. The Sisters and their wards woke in a panic, fear and confusion sweeping through their ranks just as steadily as the flame. And in the midst of the calamity, the horror, Flint’s mob stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the blocks around the church, penning them in for the slaughter. Ashe stood before the statue of the Nameless Queen in the church’s main lobby. A female form, seated, tranquil, her face hidden behind a veil. A goddess. Every goddess. All the aspects of womanhood, raised to the divine. She took a deep breathing, drinking deep of the acrid smoke, scorched wood, the chaos and fear in the air. The Nameless Queen stood silent and offered no succor, even as her sanctum burned around her. “Pity,” Ashe said, gazing up at the Queen. A Sister ran past, then ducked her head back into the corridor, robed in midnight blue. “Eldest!” She cried, with shaking hands. “The Church is on fire! There are people outside- what- what do we do?!” Ashe turned, her eyes- and her brand- burning with an infernal light. Ghostly antlers appeared at her temples, framing her face. She lifted her hands, wrists haloed by wreaths of flame. Behind her, the carved idol of the Nameless Queen smoked and began to burn. “Pray with me, Sister,” Ashe said, eyes wild, her wicked smile flashing in the firelight. “All hail the Horned King.” As fire and terror flooded the compound in equal measure, Flint’s mob formed a perimeter outside, eerily silent and still despite the chaos around them. They were silhouetted against the flames, specters in the firelight. They basked in the blaze, eyes forward, staring blankly into the light. “We’re live at the Church of the Nameless Queen, where a crowd has gathered and a massive fire has broken out-” The soot-faced reporter cried out as Flint threw them back against the side of their news van, ripping the microphone from her hands. “Keep filming!” He barked. Her cameraman nodded meekly and obeyed. Flint adjusted his collar. “Now that we have your attention,” Flint began, smiling for the camera, “This is a message for all of Halcyon City, on behalf of the Firepact. We are searching for a woman- a woman who has done us wrong. Wherever she is in this city, wherever she’s gone to ground, whoever’s roof she’s hiding behind… we will find her. We will have her, even if we have to burn down-” “I’m here.” Glory stalked down the street. David and Marta trailed at her heels, gazing up at the blazing compound in blank-faced horror. “I’m right here,” Glory hissed, in a voice like ice. Flint grinned, clapping his stolen microphone to the reporter’s chest and shoving her away. “The rebel,” Flint smiled, eyes flitting from Glory to Marta. “And the runaway. Two traitors for the price of one. Gentlemen!” As one, Flint’s thralls broke from their lines and charged forward, eyes filled with an unearthly fire. Glory opened her hands and extended her claws in a flash of silver- but Marta was at her side in an instant. A plume of water exploded up from the curb, shards of scrap metal studding the street. It coiled in the air and smashed the encroaching mob away, hurtling them to the curb in a massive spray, before redirecting itself towards the church. The wave blasted away the flames littering the front lawn and cleared a path inside. An arcane glyph hung in the air, and began to fade. “Marta!” Glory cried, but she was already running. David appeared at Glory’s shoulder, his pistol drawn. Three of Flint’s thralls hurled themselves wordlessly in front of their master. David’s stun rounds left them twitching and convulsing on the street. Flint smiled smugly and waved a hand, sending forward his thralls in a surge of bodies. “Get back here, asshole!” David snapped. “I’ve got him,” Glory said. “Go with her!” David nodded. He ran into the compound, his rifle dropping down into his arms. Glory watched him go for just a moment, and then Flint’s thralls were upon her. ~*~ Chaos had taken the church. A Sister cowered, trapped behind a pile of flaming rubble. She knelt and clutched the icon of Venus around her neck, the sign of the Nameless Queen. The roaring fire around her could not block out the screams of panic and pain that shuddered through the compound. There was a creak of wood and part of the ceiling collapsed, crashing down in a cloud of embers and soot-blackened plaster. The Sister cringed, clutching her icon and praying… And then, providence, for at that moment a plume of magicked water slammed into the pile of rubble and swept it down the hall, clearing the blocked doorway. The Sister blinked as her rescuer appeared, a shadow in the smoke. “Sister Magdalene?” Marta stepped forward, plumes of magicked water trailing from her back like mighty wings. “Sister Shelley,” Marta said, helping the older woman to her feet. “Are you alright?” “I am now,” Shelley nodded. “Dear, I never knew you were a Mage!” “This isn’t really the time,” Marta smiled. “Go on. I cleared the way out through the front.” “Bless you, dear,” Shelley said, clasping Marta’s hand in thanks. “Be careful. I saw the Eldest inside- but she’s… dear, she’s not herself.” Marta blinked. “What do you mean?” “Dear, Sister Ashe led this attack on our church,” Shelley said, somber. “Honestly, it’s as if she’s… possessed.” ~*~ Marta didn’t need to go far to see what Shelley meant by that. Stepping into the nave of the church was like stepping into Hell itself. Splintered wood and crumbling plaster fell from the ceiling in burning clumps, and fire was spreading through the pews, as if the flame itself was sitting in attendance, waiting to worship the one at the altar. Sister Ashe stood at the altar, looking for all the world like service was about to begin. Flames consumed the carved idol of the Nameless Queen, transforming her stone pedestal into a throne of flame. Sister Ashe paced the stone dais, her fluttering white robes untouched by soot or flame, shining a brilliant, resplendent white in the firelight. She raised her arms in exultation, standing before the statue as it became a bonfire. “And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and the blood of the martyrs,” Ashe recited. “And when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration.” Ashe turned, and Marta saw the brand shining on her neck, and the ghastly fire in her hands. She saw the flame at her fingertips, in her hair, and in the pair of antlers rising from her head like a crown. It was a power both wretched and painfully, intimately familiar. “Welcome back, Sister Magdalene,” Ashe said, her voice echoed by the buzzing of insects and crackling flames. “Shall we pray, together?” Marta stared at the woman who first brought her into the church, who had her kneel before the Nameless Queen for benediction and guidance, who led her to the life of charity and piety that helped her break free from Harrow’s poisonous conditioning. To think, after all that… The blistering heat of the room pressed in around her. The curtain of magicked water, draped across Marta like a cloak, kept the fire at bay- but only just. Part of her, deep down, knew that she should have ran. Only the brave or foolish ran into burning buildings, rather than out of them. And right now, in this moment, Marta didn’t feel brave at all. Fear rooted her in place. Fear, and a stubborn will. She had to know. “Eldest,” Marta said, her voice almost lost to the roaring flame. “Why?” “‘Why?’” Ashe gasped, incredulous, mocking. “The short answer, is because we needed to smoke your friend the traitor out from whatever bolt hole she’d run off to. The long answer: because there are two kinds of people in this world, people who do as they please, and people who can only do as they’re told. You need power to choose, and not just obey- and The Horned King is generous with his power. But do you want to know the really, really short answer?” Ashe splayed her fingers and she rose into the air, the folds of her gown billowing like wings. An arcane sigil drew itself in the air behind her, and the flames within the church gathered together, spiraling into a braid of coiled crimson magic. Ashe smiled a wicked smile, her voice thundering with purpose- with power. “I belong to the Pact. Until my soul sleeps, and my body burns.” Ashe cried. “NOW BURN!” Marta clutched the icon around her neck, drew a sign in the air- and then Ashe’s pillar of fire came crashing down. ~*~ For the third time in 24 hours, Glory found herself being assaulted by a mob. The first time, they were mercenaries and street gangsters motivated by the promise of payment. The second time, they were the members of Father Servo’s ‘Communion’, being controlled remotely through their datajacks. Now, this third mob seemed to be enthralled by Flint’s voice alone. The power of the Brand, Glory supposed. The Horned King’s blessing. She was starting to see a pattern with his so-called ‘gifts’. She realized, in a flash of equal parts insight and irritation, that the Firepact knew she wasn’t unscrupulous enough to flick out her hand razors and carve a bloody path through what were, essentially, hostages. Through the swell of bodies, she could see Flint, his mouth open, doubtlessly in the middle of gloating about how he’d so brilliantly paralyzed Glory with her own conscience. Glory fixed her gaze on him, not hearing a word he was saying. At the base of her spine, her adrenal pump began to hum. She would count to three. Glory surged forward. One. Claws out. Dodge the groping hands. Run. Jump. Two. Stepping stones in the air. A knee. A shoulder. The side of a news van. Three. Flint staggered back. His fingers curled into hooks, reaching for the ragged line down his chest, splitting his brand in two. He tried to speak, only for blood to spray out of his mouth in a ghastly mist. Glory rose from where she’d landed in a crouch from her diving strike, tearing out Flint’s hamstrings in a single fluid swipe. Bloody, beaten, his suit in tatters, he was a far cry from the dignified Firepact Agent who’d attempted the hit on her only two nights ago. Glory grabbed him by his suit collar and dragged him across the church grounds, past groups of his thralls standing limp, puppets with their strings cut. His mouth was moving, though he couldn’t make a sound, only dribble wine-dark blood past his lips and down his chest. “Let me guess,” Glory said, as she pulled him in from the street and towards the compounds burning ruin. “You belong to the Pact, until your soul sleeps, and your body burns.” Glory threw him into the blaze. “You did better when you still had your drones,” Glory said flatly. Flint dragged himself along the ground, his chest wound scraping the grass, his hamstrung legs limp and useless behind him. He made it one agonizing step before his suit caught fire. Several gruesome minutes later, Flint’s thralls rose again, clutching their heads and coming back to their senses- but by then, Glory was long gone. ~*~ Fire cascaded down, smashing into the floor and erupting across the pews. When the wave finally parted, Marta was on her hands and knees, gasping for breath, with a glyph glowing faintly on the floor around her, and the remnants of an icy shield weeping steam into the air. Ashe loomed above her, borne aloft by an otherworldly power, her robe flaring out like wings. Her hair shone with the power of the Horned King, blazing fire-red. And, to Marta’s quiet shame, she could still feel the memory of that power, the echo, charging her own body and making the very tips of her hair glow like hot coals. “You remember, don’t you?” Ashe asked, eyes ablaze with light. “You were like me, once. You remember what it’s like to wield the power of a god.” Marta’s limbs were heavy. It took all she had just to look up. “No,” she rasped. “I’m not like you.” “Not now,” Ashe smiled. “But you could be, again. You’re a traitor, Magdalene. You forced me to burn down this compound, and cost me a perfectly good identity. But the Horned King rewards loyalty with power. His power can be yours again, if you only let him in.” “No,” Marta whispered. “You’ve no power to choose, girl!” Ashe snapped. “You can only obey!” Marta cried out in alarm as something took hold of her body, shivering and convulsing. She fought her rebel muscles, feeling her willpower buckle under the weight of something huge and unknowable. She felt the crushing presence, the weight pressing in from all sides, the oppressive heat of an inferno far worse than a mere burning building. Mage instinct took over. She channeled her willpower, raising her mental wards- but it wasn’t enough. How could it be enough? Trying to hold back the daemon was like holding a door against a flood with only your bare hands. The nightmare was coming. He was already here… Let me in. The presence was suffocating. Intoxicating. But the poisonous desire, the echoes of addiction, would not let her go. Marta screwed her eyes shut, blinking away tears, the ends of her hair shining red… Glory…! A phantom flicked across her vision- a robed woman, outlined in arcane blue. The oppressive presence drew back for a moment, and Marta sucked in a desperate breath, clutching the icon of Venus, so like an ankh, around her neck. “Hecate,” Marta breathed, like a prayer, as the goddess faded from her eyes. Above her, Ashe’s face twisted into scorn. “Your matron bars the doors,” Ashe spat, “when she should be preparing to receive her King. All goddesses are one within the Nameless Queen, and the goddesses are one within me! I bless their names, the wives of the Horned King! I am Lilith, consort of daemons, turned away from Eden merely for declaring herself man’s equal! I am the Whore of Babylon, astride a scarlet beast with seven heads and ten horns, a herald of the end! I am the Red Apostle, the Horned King’s right hand! I am Jezebel, Queen of-” A gunshot cut short Ashe’s manic ranting. It struck a shimmering barrier around Ashe with the sound of chipped glass. “You know Jezebel died, right?” David asked. “Way I remember it, she was thrown out a window.” David emptied his rifle into Ashe with one long pull of the trigger. The barrage crashed against her barrier like hail on a tin roof. There was a sound of shattering glass- both of Ashe’s barrier breaking and the window smashing behind her- and Ashe hurtled out of the church, wreathed in fire and stained glass. David slid a fresh magazine into his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He knelt by Marta’s side. Within her magic circle, her little place of protection, the air was still cool and speckled with mist- but outside that bubble, the church was collapsing. “Come on,” David pleaded, helping Marta to her feet. “Where’s-” “She’s fine,” David smiled. “She should be right behind-” “Here,” Glory said, making David jump out of his skin. “I’m right here.” “Glory…” Marta sniffled, before darting forward and wrapping her in a hug. Glory stiffened, awkwardly patting Marta on the back- which, given her hand razors, seemed more threat than comfort. “Miss me?” Glory teased. David smiled, despite everything. It was about the warmest he’d ever seen Glory act. Then a wooden beam fell from the rafters and smashed into the burning pews, ruining it. “Building’s coming down,” Glory said, letting Marta lean on her shoulder. “Time to go.” “Got it,” David replied. There was an explosion behind them. They whirled around, David’s rifle dropping into his hands and bracing against this shoulder, Glory’s revolver snapping up to aim. Ashe rose from the debris, haloed in fire, the numerous bloody holes in her torso lit from within by a wretched light. She was burning from the inside out, her mouth and eyes weeping flame, and when she spoke, her voice was echoed by a chorus of thousands. “Until her soul sleeps, and her body burns…” The Red Apostle threw her hands forward, a pillar of fire cannoning towards the trio. Glory threw Marta behind her and held up a hand, the Heart of Feuerstelle tracing her veins with green light. The blaze halted in its tracks, wavering before the ring of green flame. Then Glory extended her claws and slashed open the beam. It burst apart at her touch, scattering harmlessly around them in the wake of a spring breeze and the scent of honeysuckle. “Headstrong little mouse!” The daemon roared, through Ashe’s mouth. “Let me in!” The presence shot forward in a plume of ghostly fire, abandoning the burned-out husk of Ashe’s body. Glory held Marta close. Their auras mingled- ocean blue and forest green, Hecate and the Heart warding away the daemon’s will- but just a few steps away… David cried out. His body went rigid, his limbs fighting his brain for control. Flames flickered around his head, his eyes. “Let him go!” Marta cried. “Wait,” Glory said, drawing forward. David’s hands lurched for his rifle and fired off a burst, the rounds sparking off of Glory’s augmetic shoulder. David grit his teeth. He pulled the strap off his shoulder and hurled his rifle away before he could squeeze off another shot. Then, when his hand lurched to his holster and drew his pistol, he forced his thumb up and clicked the release. The magazine of ammunition clattered to the floor, and his pistol with it. David gasped, a crown of fire sliding over his mind’s eye. Flames began to gather in his outstretched hands. Foolish boy. Do you think I need the tools of man to do my killing? David cried out and threw his hands forward- -and the plume of fire he summoned sputtered and faded before Glory and Marta were even singed. “Sorry to disappoint you,” Glory said, staring down the daemon wearing David’s skin. “But David isn’t a very powerful Mage.” The daemon roared in frustration, charging forward, no doubt with the intent to kill Glory and Marta with his bare hands. Marta cringed. Glory ducked. She fell to one knee, scooping David’s pistol up off the ground. Even with the magazine ejected, he still had one round in the pipe. David was right on top of her. Glory jabbed the gun into his chest, stared down the phantom in his eyes. “Tell your boss I’m coming for him.” Glory fired. The stun round spattered into David’s chest and filled him with a surge of electricity, shocking him out of consciousness- and forcing the daemon out. The fragment of the Horned King fled David’s body, shrieking in pain and frustration. It passed over the church like a strong wind, the flames consuming the compound flaring upwards, resonating with its impotent fury. The fire rose, one last act of spite before the banished spirit dissipated on the wind. Glory cradled David’s limp body in her arms, heedless of the electricity crackling along his limbs. The building’s wooden frame was creaking ominously, and the compound was blazing out of control. Glory felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, and met Marta’s eyes. Marta opened her arms. A glyph of etched blue light formed a circle beneath their feet. The Church of the Nameless Queen’s burning husk crashed down on their heads. ~*~ Hours passed. Sister Shelley watched, with a grim fascination, as the Church of the Nameless Queen burned to the ground. There was no relief. Who would come? Out in the sprawl, far from the corporate holdings in the center of the city… There was no danger of the fire spreading beyond the compound, so that was a small mercy, at least. But with no risk of it endangering corporate property, the fire would burn until nature willed it. Imagine Shelley’s surprise, then, when it began to rain. Sister Shelley stood under the awning of a makeshift tent, while her fellow Sisters tended injuries- many of them their own. The rain came down around them, smothering the blaze, leaving only a huge plume of gray smoke hanging over the block like a grave. It was an apt, if macabre, comparison. How many people had died in that blaze? Too many. Far too many. Shelley clutched the icon of Venus around her neck, praying for one soul in particular… And then she saw it- a dome, a bubble of blue light at the heart of the ruined church, and the trio emerging from the smoke. Shelley smiled, her heart swelling in her chest. “Providence,” she whispered, the icon of Venus shimmering in her hands. ~*~ Glory and Marta sat under a makeshift tent on the street, watching the rain wash away the catastrophe they brought upon the Church of the Nameless Queen. David had regained consciousness while they were waiting out the blaze. He lingered nearby, chatting with Sister Shelley, giving the two women their space. “This is a nightmare,” Marta murmured, staring up at the rising smoke. “And I brought here.” “We brought it here,” Glory said. “And, well. You got us out of there, too.” Marta shrugged. “You and David did all the work, really,” Marta muttered glumly. “When I fought Sister Ashe, I… I barely even did anything.” “You survived,” Glory said. “That’s not nothing.” “Yeah.” Marta exhaled. Slowly, she curled a pinky around Glory’s. Glory’s machined metal hands were cool to the touch. “He was here,” Marta murmured. “The Horned King. Or part of him, at least.” Glory stayed silent, staring out into the rain. “You’re still going to hunt him?” Marta asked. “You’re still going to go after Harrow?” “Yes,” Glory said. “Do you still want to come with us?” Marta’s heart caught in her chest. ‘...Yes,” she breathed. Glory turned, and their eyes met. “Good,” Glory said simply. “Good,” Marta smiled. David wandered back to rejoin them, heaving a sigh. “This place is gonna need one hell of a remodel,” he muttered. “I mean, I know it was just a building. But a roof means a lot to people who don’t have one.” “The Sisters will rebuild,” Marta said, with a quiet conviction. “The Queen will provide.” “I hope the Queen won’t mind taking donations,” David shrugged. “Now that Sister Ashe is… indisposed, Sister Shelley is taking over as Eldest. That means she’ll be overseeing the fundraising and the reconstruction.” “How does she feel about that?” Marta asked. “She said she’d rather just be running the kitchen again,” David said. “That sounds like her.” “Mr. Wen,” Glory cut in. “If all our affairs are in order, I think it’s time we got moving.” David glanced at Marta, and gave her a small smile. “Got it,” David said. “I’ll go get the car.” “Where do we go from here?” Marta asked. Glory paused. She reached into her coat and withdrew the Rose Compass, glinting in the dim, pre-dawn light. She tossed it to Marta, who caught it in both hands, studying the engraved symbol that could have been a rose and could have been a flame. “What does it say?” Glory asked. Marta opened the Compass and studied it. David tensed. Marta turned, aligning the compass. Behind her, the rain clouds were cut through with silver, the first threads of light cast by the rising sun. The Rose Compass’s third, red needle wavered, for just a moment, before settling in place. “West,” Marta said. “It says west.” Glory smiled. Nodded. “Then let’s get going.” The tension between them dissipated, like smoke cut through with rain. Glory took a seat in the back of David’s car, joined by Marta after a moment’s hesitation. David got into the driver’s seat and pulled his door closed. He reached up, catching Glory’s eyes in the mirror. “You shot me,” he said, playfully indignant. “I knew you could take it,” Glory replied. “You owe me a new shirt,” David said. “Get a new one after you get paid,” Glory said. “He gets paid?” Marta chimed in. “Do I get paid?” “You volunteered,” Glory teased. “Aww!” The trio laughed- and, gods, how long had it been since Glory just laughed? It was a moment of levity and light that she sorely needed after her relentless last few days. They ventured out into the dark, with rain clouds overhead and the smoking ruin of the compound behind them, three lights in the shadows- the forest green glow of the Heart of Feuerstelle, flanked by David and Marta- Glory’s left and right hands. ~*~

#Glory #Shadowrun #Shadowrun Dragonfall #fanfiction #my writing #Trail of Embers

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blackjack-15 · 4 years

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Not Horsin’ Around — Thoughts on: The Secret of Shadow Ranch (SHA)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it. Unique to this game is a section in between The Mystery and The Suspects titled The Historical Background, as the background in SHA is so important and takes up nearly a third of the whole game that it deserves its own section.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: SHA, non-spoilery mention of TRT, non-spoilery mention of CAP, non-spoilery mention of DED, non-spoilery mention of SPY.

The Intro:

Secret of Shadow Ranch is one of those games that invariably ends up in every “Best Of” list of Nancy Drew games. Unlike another mainstay of those lists (watch this space for the next meta, where I will Make Enemies), SHA actually deserves to be on it without reservations.

Unlike a few other “Best Of” games, SHA doesn’t actually do anything new with its story — there’s no beat, no bare-bones plotline, no mystery that hasn’t been done in the previous 9 games – but it just does it more completely. There’s more effort, more time, more thought, and more care obviously put into SHA (which itself is one of the most popular Nancy Drew books) than a lot of the other games. This isn’t to say that the other games are bad, just that SHA has a uniquely huge amount of care and detail put into it.

I should take the time to note here that I don’t believe that SHA is the best Nancy Drew game of all time, nor is it my favorite game of all time. The first designation shifts according to time, and the second is wholly dependent upon my personal style of play, so elevating a game based on that is less than pointless. When I say SHA deserves to be on “Best Of” game lists, it’s because it genuinely ticks all the boxes to make a fun, challenging but not hard, atmospheric, and honestly engaging experience.

Any introduction to Shadow Ranch would be incomplete without addressing the largest visual change it brings: the full-screen visuals. The bulky 2/3-of-the-screen interface is retired here and instead a (relatively) sleek task bar is added at the bottom, allowing SHA to look, as well as feel, bigger than any other game that came before it. Not only does this result in a smoother visual (especially as Nancy turns around) style, but it allows for more visual puzzles (significantly, the puzzle at the end with the stones marking the correct (and incorrect) path for Nancy to take).

While I won’t go too much into the Historical Background (as it’s significant enough in this game to get its own section in this meta), it’s impossible to talk about SHA without mentioning its wonderful historical setting and story. There are few other games so entrenched in the past (SPY, GTH, and TMB are a few others that fall into the same category), and it’s a joy to play through.

All in all, SHA is an honestly just wonderful, solid game that owes much of its well-deserved praise to a fantastically executed historical background, solid (if not showy) characters, and enough simplicity on top of its moving parts to encourage the player to go steadily and happily through the game.

The Title:

As far as the title for this game goes, they stuck exactly to the book to ensure that readers would know that one of the best-loved mysteries was being adapted to video game format, which was a pretty good idea.

The Secret of Shadow Ranch is also just a pretty great title; it indicates a mystery, a location, and sort of tells you the type of mystery you might get based on the location (historical; revolving around the Wild West). It’s not fussy, and not overly evocative, but it’s also not a “haunting” game (despite the ghost horse on the cover), so the simpler title is acceptable.

The Mystery:

Nancy’s just off to visit Bess and George’s Aunt Bet and Uncle Ed in their ranch (Shadow Ranch, to be exact) when the two cousins get delayed (why they didn’t all fly together…well, the plot demanded it) and Nancy arrives alone and immediately gets sucked into the strange happenings at the ranch.

It wouldn’t be a Nancy Drew game if something wasn’t hinky right off, naturally.

Uncle Ed and Aunt Bet are currently in the hospital after Ed was bitten by a snake that showed up in their bedroom, so Nancy’s left to deal with the ranch hands as she tries to help the ranch to run smoothly and investigates exactly how Ed might have gotten hurt.

The game ditches the plot of the original book and takes two-thirds of the plot of the revised yellow hardcover version, focusing around a strange phantom horse that seems to leave accidents and misfortune in its wake and around the historical plotline of the famous outlaw Dirk Valentine’s hidden treasure.

While it would have been cool to deal with the original mystery of Shadow Ranch — involving a missing father found with amnesia and an NPC in the form of another of Bess and George’s cousins — HER didn’t really have the resources nor the writing to deal with such a personal plot yet, and they instead (wisely, in my estimation) chose the plots that could be dealt with in what had become typical Nancy Drew PC Game fashion. This decision made Shadow Ranch one of the most tightly plotted of the early games and allows the player the time (and space, with the new layout) to explore the beautiful Southwest visuals as a trade-off.

As is commonplace with Nancy’s “vacations”, she soon finds herself embroiled in two mysteries where everyone has motive and opportunity, where the “means” belongs to everyone, and where no one will tell her the truth until she exposes them. Because Nancy can’t really contact the only victims of the accidents (Bet and Ed), there’s overall less to do on the phone in this game and Nancy has to make do with four suspects.

As far as mysteries go, Shadow Ranch isn’t the most involved that HER has ever attempted, but it is fairly complex for the Classic and Expanded games, and it takes pride in being easy to follow and engaging. The Dirk Valentine plotline specifically is tightly plotted, well-delivered, and…well, as perfect as you could get, really.

The Historical Background:

Normally, the Historical Background of a game is covered in the Mystery section, but SHA’s historical background is so far at the forefront of the game (not to mention so well done and memorable) that it would be a travesty to try to include it in another section.

The history behind the game centers on an outlaw, Dirk Valentine, and his forbidden romance with the sheriff’s daughter, Frances Humber, who lived at Shadow Ranch. Frances’ father Meryl disapproved of the match and relied (unbeknownst to her) on his daughter’s knowledge to find and arrest Dirk.

Dirk is then hanged for his general outlaw-ery, but not before mentioning a treasure that he wanted to give to Frances in a letter to her before he died. After his death, Frances left her father and headed east, leaving Meryl regretful of hanging Dirk and wishing to have his daughter back with him again.

The only remaining bit of Dirk left behind is his treasure, which Frances has no interest in and tells her relative about and which the Wild, Wild West finds an intense desire in. Since then, many have tried to find his last legacy to Frances, but all have failed…

Dramatic ellipses aside, the best part of this background isn’t that it involves outlaws and treasure and family drama and all that — it’s that it is all told via narrated letters and diary entries that Nancy finds hidden around the ranch. While this story would be effective on its own, the fact that it’s told to Nancy (and via Nancy, the player) makes it even more gripping than it would be on its own.

The biggest reason why the historical background gets its own section, however, is that it’s one of the best historical backgrounds in the entire series, and certainly the best of the series so far (even though I prefer TRT’s, SHA’s is told more effectively). SPY is up there, but it cheats a bit by having its backstory tied directly to Nancy, so I won’t count it as high on the scale. The only other game (once again ignoring SPY) that gets quite as somber and effective without being melodramatic is CAP, which presents the backstory through another character and thus works just as well.

(As a side note, I’m not including DED here, since it’s less “historical background” and more “incredibly recent background”.)

The only thing that this background sours for me slightly is the present-day plot, as it’s not quite as tight, but that’s to be expected since that plot has to last the whole game. That, and the fact that it makes me bitter that we don’t get all of our historical background narrated for the rest of the series.

The Suspects:

Tex Britten is the surly ranch hand that assumes authority while Ed and Bet are at the hospital. He dislikes “city folk” (though after ASH, one can hardly call Nancy anything but “upper-middle-class suburban folk”) and trusts Nancy so little around the ranch that she’s not allowed to do anything without him hovering — except for be responsible for the horses’ nutrition and survival.

Not really circumspect, but I wouldn’t trust this 18-year-old who claims to be a friend of the family’s with anything fun either.

Gruff, rough, and difficult to deal with, Tex is set up as the “mean” suspect from almost the first moments of the game (though after Dave shows up at the airport in assless chaps), and he plays the part par excellence. Never is Tex any warmer than barely civil, and he doesn’t need to be “reformed” by the end of the game because, well, he’s just grumpy.

As a suspect, Tex is a pretty good one, and honestly my preferred suspect. Not because he’s mean or gruff or anything like that, but because it would have been a great analogue between him and Mary and Frances and Dirk (more on that below). While it would be boring to have the “mean suspect” be the culprit every time, at this point in the series (with only MHM boasting a “mean guy” culprit) it would honestly count as a subversion, and would add a bit of depth to his character beyond “mean guy with a soft spot for the women in his life”.

Shorty Thurmond is the cook at the Rawley’s ranch and is voiced by HER’s resident pinch-hitter and man of a thousand voices Jonah Von Spreecken. He’s a money-grubbing lazy cook with more interest in yelling at those helping him than in doing actual work.

Shorty, to no one’s surprise, is the culprit (what?? the get-rich-quick guy wanted to get rich quick????), and does make for a decent suspect in that you could say he’s “lazy” because he’s actually working hard to find the treasure. He’s creepy enough to set the player’s teeth on edge, but ultimately not sinister enough to really convince the player that he’s up to no good.

Dave Gregory, snatcher of panties and quickener of libidos, is not only the Figure of Sexual Awakening for fans who came in after FIN, but is also one of the canonical “love interests” for Nancy — aka, boys who show an interest in her while she alternately doesn’t or feels-like-she-shouldn’t reciprocate. Nancy can even not really tell him about Ned, for bonus “good girlfriend” points (points that really start appearing from TRN on). His aunt is the relative that Frances told about Dirk’s treasure, and so he’s been looking during his downtime on the ranch.

He’s also fairly smitten with Nancy to the point that he helps her the entire game, asking nothing else in return. But, since I’m not really commenting on realism right now (in any of its forms), I’ll let that one slide.

As a suspect, Dave doesn’t ever qualify. The game never sets him up to be suspected, his “gotcha” moment with Nancy is so piddling as to be inconsequential, and he aids and abets Nancy the entire time. It’s probably a good thing, honestly, as Tex and Shorty are set up from the start to be the most suspicious, but I do think it would have been better to at least play along with him being suspicious until the one-third mark, especially since Mary is such a non-player as well.

Rounding out our cast is Mary Yazzie, who sells art and stones near Shadow Ranch and is banging Tex like a drum in Secret. Her area of interest is in the Pueblo people, and has tried repeatedly to purchase some of the land of Shadow Ranch in order to, according to her, look for more petrified wood artifacts. Ed and Bet refuse to sell, however, which sets them at odds with Mary.

As a suspect, Mary isn’t fabulous. Other than her offers to buy part of Shadow Ranch (and her taste in men), there’s nothing sitting against her. The game doesn’t bother to really implicate her in anything, and she more serves a helping role (if not The Helping Role). Her presence does open up the game to include Native American themes and stories, but other that that Mary’s really only there to make the numbers fit.

While Mary is the only female suspect, she’s not the only woman in the cast, which includes Charleena, Frances, Aunt Bet, Bess, and George (of important/speaking roles, 6 females to 8 males, by my count, making this an average-sized cast).

The Favorite:

Charleena Purcell is a delight and a treasure here and one of a small number of reoccurring characters. I’m a sucker for author characters since they’re usually slightly unpleasant (and I value that in a character who gives information to a detective), and everything from being a great phone character to her voice acting is A+. Jonah Von Spreecken’s additional role as Charleena’s assistant should also get a mention here. Honestly, what can’t that man do?

A big — possibly the biggest — thing that HER gets so, so right in this game is the voice acting. While Lani is her usual early-game self (quasi-invested and missing some native inflection, but not yet the incredibly old-sounding voice that happens a bit further down the line), Rob Jones’ Joe Hardy, Jonah Von Spreecken (as mentioned above), Max Holechek’s Meryl Humber, and above all Gary Hoffman’s superlative Dirk Valentine elevate this game far above the sum of its parts.

It’s a very lucky thing that this game was released before the (misguided, in my estimation) feature that lets you skip dialogue, because if you could, I truly believe that SHA wouldn’t be half as memorable or well-beloved as it is. Hearing Dirk’s assurances and Meryl’s increasing sadness is far, far beyond anything that reading them could give you, and I honestly believe that HER knew this and planned accordingly.

Sure, it was more expensive to record that dialogue rather than simply read it, and additional voice actors had to be hired, and more time had to be spent — but the end result is the main takeaway from SHA, and that is to the game’s incredible benefit.

My favorite moment in the game, to no one’s surprise, then, is the reading of Dirk’s letters. It only takes a few sentences to get wholly invested in him Frances, and their love story. It’s the height of Americana to root for the outlaw of the Wild, Wild West, but it’s taken one step further with Dirk who has been given some of the best lines in any HER game.

It’s a simple moment, but effective, and it stays with me not only every time I play but even when it’s been a few years since I’ve cracked open the game.

My favorite puzzle is the horse-trivia-on-a-horse one, as it tests the player’s thoroughness in exploring and reading, and also is incredibly hilarious to see Nancy riding around a pen while an angry ranch hand spits questions at her like he’s investigating her for murder. It’s fun and side-splitting in its absurdity, and I do love good-natured absurdity.

The Un-Favorite:

For a book famous for introducing Bess and George, I can’t help but feel that it really was a missed opportunity not to include them more in this game. Sure, it helps Nancy to be on her own so that she can investigate without being hamstrung by anyone else, but this was a perfect opportunity to be able to play as another character for a while and to see more of Bess and George than witty puns and suspiciously prescient clues, so I will count this missed opportunity as a least favorite thing in the game.

*metal piece picked up* *metal piece put down* *metal piece picked up* need I say more??

My least favorite moment in the game is the “Heeeeere’s Shorty!” bad ending. It’s breathtakingly unnecessary, creepy as all get-out, and makes you stare at a Shorty face that looks like it was rendered with Windows 1 running on oatmeal for processing power.

My least favorite puzzle in the game isn’t actually the metal maze I mentioned above (though that would get an honorable mention, definitely) — it’s the arrowhead hunting. If you’re looking all along (and know to be looking all along), it’s not too tedious, but if you have the bad luck to miss one or two along the way, what follows is a half hour of pouring over every spot in every location to find them. Generally, my least favorite things in games tend to be those that are essential yet easily missable, and the arrowheads fit that bill exactly.

The Fix:

So how would I fix The Secret of Shadow Ranch?

First, I would honestly remove the Hardy Boys from the game. They don’t get the time they need to shine, and the game is busy enough to not need them. Move them to CUR and you get at least two characters I care about in that game.

As mentioned above, I would make the connection between Mary/Tex and Frances/Dirk clearer (rather than sub-sub-subtext) and switch him and Shorty’s position as the villain.

Make Shorty guilty of being exactly what is he is — a man obsessed with get quick rich schemes — and have some of the incidents be his fault (the snake is a good one to hand to him, as any cook in the desert on a ranch knows how to catch and cook snake) so that he has room to look for the treasure, but maybe stop him from finding a few key things (like the secrets in Dry Gulch) and take out his bank robber connections (which is easily the silliest part of the game). Maybe Tex uses him and slowly siphons off information that Shorty leaves lying around until he knows All.

Meanwhile, Tex is a gruff man who cares about his sister and his girlfriend and is thankful to the Rawley’s about his job…but he’s also a man who needs money to pay for his upcoming engagement/wedding to Mary Yazzie, who’s helping support his sister, who’s a bit angry that the Rawleys fired his sister, and who figures that if anyone can find a cowboy’s treasure, it’s another cowboy who knows the land like the back of his hand.

His expertise with horses makes it easy to coat one in phosphorus and safely release and get it back, his omnipresence around the ranch makes it easy to sabotage, and his natural reticence gives him a reason never to have an alibi — he just doesn’t like to be around people. Tex is, in fact, so perfectly set up to be the villain that it doesn’t feel like a twist that he’s not, it feels like a mistake.

For the finale, while Shorty chasing Nancy down is scary enough, the image of Tex doing so is even worse. This fix strengthens motive, adds multiple narratives, and spreads out the guilt enough to make most characters interesting. It would also give Mary more of a presence and add in the possibility of her being an accomplice (which I would love), and firmly sets Nancy at odds with three-fourths of the cast.

I’d also include Bess and George more heavily in the game. Since they handle the beginning of the Charleena Purcell line already, I’d have that whole storyline shifted over to them. You play as either Bess or George finding the novel, calling Nancy, and taking the lead to wheedle their way in past Charleena’s assistant (definitely a Bess-type job, but George attempting it would be hilarious with Bess whispering instructions) and get the information Nancy needs. The airport itself would be easy enough to limit to a small explorable area, and HER could even pass the contacting Ed and Bet to their actual nieces.

These changes would expand the game slightly and add to the runtime, but it would also help SHA to be even more of a landmark game and to be an appropriate end to the era of Expanded Games.

#nancy drew #nancy drew games #clue crew #secret of shadow ranch #nancy drew meta #SHA #my meta #long post

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magnavox-odyssey-official · 7 years

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Final Fantasy XV (First Impressions) Review

You know, I got Final Fantasy XV on the assumption that it’ll help me back on the PS4. I was practically devoting my time to the juggernaut of a gaming PC I built, that the poor black box on my shelf wasn’t getting enough of the attention I gave it back when I played Phantom Pain on it during my college days not too long ago. I wasn’t sure why else I bought it: I was never able to beat any Final Fantasy game before this one, so there was a possibility that it would tank from my gaming queue. Sure as hell didn’t turn out that way, judging by the hours atop hours I’ve played per day. Hell, I even beat the game not too longer after I bought it. But I’m not about to parade the rooftops and sing this games praises just yet. It’s probably not even my most favorite game, although it’s sort of up there, I admit. It’s a complicated relationship.

The story starts off stronger than most recent FFXV games, in that it doesn’t dump a whole bunch of stringy narrative threads all over the place. You play as Noctis, princely heir to the throne of the nation of Lucis, who must traverse the land and build up his royal magic with his three comrades, Ignis, Prompto, and Gladiolus, reunite with his fiancée Luna, and take the fight back to the Niflheim empire that had conquered his homeland. Like I said, that is as complicated as the story gets in XV, and I think that has something to do with the fact that Final Fantasy XIII, the previous single player game in the franchise, was critically not a very good game and was also mired in a confusing narrative, and Square Enix wanted to distance themselves from that for marketing reasons. I mean, the opening sequence starts the game proper with, and I’m not kidding here, a cover of Ben E. King’s “Stand By Me” as the title logo fades in. Right away, it tells you straight up that this isn’t your mom and dad’s Final Fantasy.

And it it’s as different as it gets, when compared to previous games in the series. Rather than having a hybrid action RPG style of gameplay, XV uses something called the Active Cross Battle system, which simply boils everything down an action game with RPG elements. I personally think makes the combat so much better than more of the alter games in the series. For one thing, commands are mapped directly on the controller for attacking, defending, and dodging, and Noctis has a whole suite of commands and abilities that are useful, but never feel too complicated to use in battle, like having his friends utilize their own special attacks or warp to a vantage point out of harm’s way to get a better look at the battle below. The battle system is solid, but not without a few nagging issues. For one, certain areas don’t really serve the battle system well, like cramped spaces and corridors or areas with a lot of obstructive, like trees and large rocks. Sometimes it’s hard to tell when to attack or when to block, especially when you can’t really see if an enemy is winding up an attack right behind you. Another thing is that there are special spells called summons, which call upon certain deities to aid you in battle. Provided they even decide to show up, because there doesn’t seem to be a way to tell when you can be able to summon them, or how long the cool down to summon another god is, and since they only show up when you’re really in deep trouble, you could probably get through the whole game without having to summon a deity, if you’re good enough.

The game is also, separating itself from Final Fantasy XIII, the game is mostly open world, with plenty of ways to get around and plenty of side quests and monster hunts to partake in. You can get around in the Regalia, your stylish car, or you can rent some of the classic Chocobo mounts, or you can rough it on foot to hunt for materials, bulk up your hunter rank by going on hunt mission for cash, search for hidden dungeons and go out fishing, and you can crash at the local motel and count up your XP and Ability points, that you can use to increase your stats, unlock new abilities, and make you and your crew much more formidable. The adventuring around the open world and the quirky interactions with the main four are what I think really kept me playing to the end. There’s a lot of streamline, yet rewarding tasks to uptake, and the multitude of traveling options, including the classic fast traveling, make things snappy and straightforward enough to keep your interest.

And that’s not even considering the cast of Noctis and his pals. The palaver that they share make them feel a lot more human than Final Fantasy XIII’s cast, at least. One event really helps this point, where Prompto makes a comment about a seaside restaurant being romantic, and the other three, including the usually professional Ignis, tease Prompto about how he’s in such a romantic place with his three manly friends. They’re penchant for showing concern and ripping on each other makes the traveling, the fighting, and even the down moments of the guys camping in the woods much more enjoyable. Noctis is a lot more capable and human than most people give him credit for. He can get stoic, and he gets bratty every now and then, but it’s not like that’s just the way he is, and it’s not like he doesn’t have an actual personality. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders, the responsibility to his kingdom, and his lineage, to fight against the evil that’s plaguing the world. he regularly jokes with his friends out in the wild, and had come to tears on more than one occasion because of the situation he’s in, which is a lot more than I can say for most protagonists in many video games nowadays. One scene way at the end of the credits, really shows how much he cares about his world and his friends. They aren’t the most complex of characters, and the story isn’t that deep to help them out with that, but the four boys in this party really show that they had a lot of care in their creation.

Although going back to the story, it starts to fold in on itself way later, especially when the story reaches Chapter 13. I won’t spoil anything, but I will say that the story takes a massive halt, but also takes three steps ahead of us, and I was personally left wondering why the game hadn’t properly explained anything going on in this chapter, especially considering that a lot of important events in the plot apparently took place off screen. I personally didn’t mind that this chapter started to get linear later, but the fact that so many things happened off the story’s watch is just unjustified. It didn’t help that the game also takes your weapons and party members away for this portion of the story as well. Now that I think about it, too much story wasn’t good for the previous games, but not enough story, or having players piece together what should have been explained outright, is in some ways worse. As of writing, Square Enix has addressed the problem, and are even going as far as to create all new scenes and record all new dialogue to make the chapter more palatable, so it shows that SE is dedicated to their product, but only time will tell if these new scenes will but the kick back in the story’s step.

Along with the news of added content and support for the game, like the recently announced Episode Gladiolus and Episode Prompto DLC, the design skins for the Regalia, the Chocobo races, the fantastic-looking food that boosts your stats, and all the other little feature and gameplay elements that are just quick but impactful enough to keep you in the experience, there’s just something about this game that just drew me in. The story is fine, although a bit dry at times, and the combat is just fluid enough to work with, even though it can fall flat at times. But the groundwork that all that is built upon is solid, and the overall experience is done well enough that I really would consider it one of my favorite games of all time. It’s hard to pin down what exactly got me hooked on the game, and I admit that it’s not a game for everyone, but I personally had a great time with the game, and as it continues to be reworked and built upon with upcoming DLC, you know I’m gonna dive back into the main story when everything is said and done.

#review #final fantasy xv

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wyattthemartian · 7 years

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He rolled over, sleepily avoiding the ray of sun that had found the crack in the curtains. Sleep was still close and he knew that if he let his mind drift it would return quickly. Unluckily, the dog had heard the movement of his groggy human and the scraping of claws over worn hardwood infiltrated the still air. A wet tongue found its way into the left nostril of the half conscious man and he was wrenched quickly away from the peaceful doze. Sitting up the man wearily rubbed his foggy eyes and felt for his glasses. The dog continued licking his knees as if he had recently knelt in peanut butter. Fumbling fingers found the glasses and pushed the cold metal arms through messy hair to rest behind slightly over-large ears. The thing about ears is that they never stop growing, noses too. I read it in a book somewhere, or maybe I heard it on TV. In any case, it’s probably best to start with relatively small ones and this man seemed to have stored his luck in the nose compartment. He sat forward and rested his feet on the ground and checked to see if he was wearing pants before getting unsteadily to his feet and wrapping a robe tightly around himself and calling the mutt to his side. The dog was a fairly good one and let the man sleep late so the man rewarded him with a pleasant tone and a scratch behind the ear. Outside the man walked with the dog and waited as the dog finished his business before calling him in for breakfast. The man never ate in the morning and this particularly spoiled dog enjoyed a post-breakfast nap everyday so the man returned to bed. He had a busy day ahead so he didn’t bother to rest his eyes and catch those extra moments of rest. He rested his computer against his knees and completed a set of six readings in the time most people would read one. The man was moderately clever and a fair student but his reading was a passion that he took pride in. As he read he scratched the dried mango residue from the keys with his thumb nail. The dog had stolen a piece of mango earlier that week and left it on the man’s favourite device as an offering. The man had rejected the sacrifice and indeed scolded the dog for his misstep. The man was kind hearted truly and had taken pity on the dog by offering him some small cubes of cheese. The sun had risen higher so as not to cast direct sunlight onto the man and as he closed the laptop he felt a certain joy at the prospect of the day. He dressed quickly in his ragged and poorly sized wardrobe that consisted nearly entirely of black. He was aided in his fashion choices after suffering a few moments of sheer panic by a charismatic boy who was truly an angel in disguise. The man believed in karma and wrote a note on his hand of the word itself in order to remind him of his dues. The man had a terrible habit of dawdling and then rushing at the last minute. His hair would simply not do things as his mind saw them so he pulled a knit cap with ears and nonesense Japanese writing on it down so that his over-large ears were mostly covered and the fringe of hair that hung around his eyes was sticking out at odd angles. He put contacts in and drew black around the rims of his eyes. Outside the window a shadow of clouds had invaded the sky. He walked to the bus stop, returned home for his wallet, and tromped up to the stop again before successfully boarding the transit. He put large headphones over his ears and listened to a wealthy artist scream into a microphone about the inequities of capitalism until the bus arrived at the terminal station. He walked off the bus conspicuously unconspicuous in the milling crowd of downtown vagrants, hoodlums, and business executives. He made a short stop to exchange a broken piece of surgical steel that usually resided in the skin below his lip. Upon returning to street level he spotted his quarry: a woman whose feet seemed to never truly touch the ground with the delicate features of a cherub set with sapphire eyes. Her face brightened and it seemed the dreary cloudladen sky may have as well. Her hair was wispy and silvery in the sunlight with hints of blue throughout. The man had known her for longer than he cared to admit and greeted her with exuberance. When the pair were together the rest of the world ceased to exist. Now right here let me stop and say that this is no great romance. A love story, yes, but love doesn’t always come in the form of romance. The man is quite indecently homosexual and the woman is a true free spirit. It is true that they spent a night together once in their careless youth but that story isn’t pertinent to what I want to tell you today. These two were the most intimate of lovers if only in spirit. The hole-in-the-wall diner that they used to sit in and drink bottomless coffee for hours had gone under and been made into an all day breakfast diner which suited their needs. Being in a place that was both familiar and not gave the funny impression of time travel in a dream world. Inside the doors a man was at the register with his back to them paying for his meal. The man nudged the woman and mumbled something about an old acquaintance and the woman’s eyes went wide as she surreptitiously looked around at the stranger. The two turned their backs quickly having neither time nor desire to interact with a phantom of the past, especially when that phantom was one that did not carry the fondest memories. They were seated in a corner near the kitchen and ordered their drinks: a coffee for the woman and a smoothie for the man since caffeine rather didn’t sit well with him as time moved on. The meal was cheap and tasted so but somehow a cheap greasy meal in the morning is exactly what is needed on occasion. The two talked and shared memories of each other from the old days and complained voraciously of the troubles of adulthood. After the meal they settled up and walked out into the crisp air. The man pulled a black cloth mouth mask over his chin and the woman wrapped her scarf tighter tucking the ends into her jeans jacket. They each pulled out a cigarette and puffed contentedly as they walked up the main drag. They came to a bus stop, one they both knew well. When the bus arrived they boarded and sat quietly. A raucous group of adolescents kept the silence from invading the bus. The man and the woman stifled snorts of amusement remembering when that had been them on this very bus. They stayed on the bus for fourteen stops and got off at a mall. They made their way to the pharmacy and picked up some pills that kept the man alive. The woman bought shampoo to maintain her silvery locks. They quickly glanced into a memorabilia store that the man used to work in and made pleasant small talk with the associates. They headed out of the mall and found that the day had warmed somewhat in their absence. They walked across the parking lot and then stood waiting for a chance to cross the busy street. Once they achieved the opposite shore the man pulled out an entry card and placed it against a sensor on the wall of a brick building with blacked out windows. They walked into the heated room that smelled like a hippie paradise. They looked through the glass counter at the samples and ordered their pick. The clerk put it in a small unassuming white paper bag and they took their leave. They agreed to wait on the contents of the bag and instead made the half hour trek to the high school that held so many memories for them. They walked through a small park that they had spent innumerable lunch hours in and onto a track with ailing bench seating around the side. They hopped the low concrete wall and sat with their backs against the painted cinder block wall at the back of the stands. The woman pulled out the white paper bag and retrieved their prize. The man took it and pressed his lips around it as he lit the other end with a doller store lighter. He sucked back the skunky smoke deep into his lungs and held his breath as the woman delicately plucked the paper rolled around burning herb from his fingers. They sat and created small clouds that rose to meet the larger ones above. The sun was growing lower in the midwinter sky and dropped below the clouds blasting the pair with rays of groggy sunlight. Below them dogs ran here and there across the field and owners whistled and threw balls. One woman was easily recognizable as an old peer. A pair of figures walked out of the sunlight directly towards the man and woman sitting in a quiet haze. The woman recognized them and called them over. The man knew them only in passing and sat back resting his head against the crumbling wall behind and watched the scene thinking that this was surely the best he would ever feel and still it was polluted with an aching sadness of things lost. The man drank in the feeling of calm loss and watched the sun fall behind the horizon. He sighed and shivered and the woman noticing his movement stood and suggested they get a warm drink at the cafe on the corner. The cafe held a lot of memories as well. It was an old building with exposed brick but the inside had been gentrified and had a low light ambience with faux-weathered furniture. It was wrong, like walking through someone else’s memory. In dreams you often find yourself in places you remember but they are always different, darker, sleeker, more formidable and this was no different. The man felt a gut wrenching stab of nausea hit him as he realized how much things had changed. With scalding drinks in hand the man took the woman’s arm and lead her out into the growing darkness. They found their way to the main steps of the school and decided to stop and smoke a couple fags for the fact that they could without threat of issue now. The girl was recounting memories loudly between drags on her cigarette. The man was in quiet contemplation. It was still hard to believe after all this time that he would never walk the halls of this building as a student again. It seemed a lifetime ago and yet yesterday at the same time. It was as if he had watched it all in a movie and it had happened to someone else that he related to easily. He said a silent prayer to the building that had given him so much and then joined with the woman in recounting the joys of the past. The woman took a picture of the man where she had taken one nearly nine years previously. They eventually moved on their way chatting avidly about the experiences they shared on different locations they happened upon. They bought food at their old haunts and laughed endlessly at the reckless stunts they recalled from the days before the word responsibility took on real meaning. They made their way downtown again and ended up in a small bakery where they enjoyed sweets and some less emotionally dramatic atmosphere. After a while they decided to peruse the old thrift store that they had practically lived in and stolen all their clothing from back in the day. They browsed the racks and tried on different items. They both ended up leaving empty handed. It’s difficult to be frivolous when there are mouths to feed and a criminal charge can leave you without work. They walked back up to the main drag stopping for warm drinks here and there. They stood at the bus stop where the woman’s bus would pick her up in a matter of minutes and embraced tightly. The day had been exhausting but it meant more than either could put into words. They bid farewell lightheartedly, though both left feeling severely frayed at the edges. The man walked wearily to his stop and waited in the muddy yellow wash of the streetlamp for the bus to take him back to the present. The bus rattled along and brought the man ever closer. He shuffled and flipped his collar up against the wind as he walked home from the busted out bus stop. The world was still and quiet and dark as if preparing him to transition. He opened the back door quietly, hung his coat and unlaced his boots. He stepped forward into the warm bright kitchen and the dog bounded up covering the man’s face in slobber and jubilation. The man laughed and walked into the sitting room greeting his family. The empty feeling of loss dissipated as he looked around at the happy glowing faces of those he loved. His phone beeped and the he read the message from the woman: I’m glad we made it this far.

#original writing #self portrait #short story #nameless #reminiscent #life experience #reality is a myth #friendship #moving on #memories

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