I find it so ironic that I built an armor to defend myself against pain and sadness, only to find out that the armor itself was forged out of it. The same armor fortified and hardened my walls, and now I am screaming and nobody can hear me.
• Roadhog and Junkrat didn’t willingly leave Junkertown. They were kicked out by the queen of Junkertown
• There’s… a queen of Junkertown. And she sounds…. like, pretty young from the Junkertown preview video??? I guess. She also sounds like a nightmare tbh, but we’ll see.
• Junkrat hired Roadhog before they left Junkertown and supposedly were wreaking havoc together long before they were kicked out.
• Junkertown isn’t just some ramshackle town put together by people out in the middle of nowhere, it’s like, deadass fortified with steel walls and a gate
• Junkertown has a tattoo parlor, houses stacked on each other like apartment complexes, a fast food place with a Koala as a mascot, a massive gladiatorial arena called the Scrapyard, and a stage in a karaoke bar/restaurant for entertainment(?), and a room somewhere literally filled from top to bottom with solid gold.
• The queen talked about how “we won the war”. This, coupled with the fact that there are speaker poles all over Junkertown tells me that 1.) The Junkers think they “won” a “war”. They personally waged a war against the Australian govt for their land but the omnium’s explosion killed most of them off. Technically they “lost”, but because they could reform and build a town again, they consider that a “win” and 2.) The queen feeds them this propaganda and… well, kinda of a lie. This keeps the Junkers hateful towards omnics and prideful of what they accomplished
•There’s a chance the queen is running a dictatorship due to the speakers and her demeanor towards her “subjects”. Plus, Junkrat called her the Big Boss in “The Plan”.
Once a powerful and prestigious country but lost its influence after angry citizens rebelled against its incompetent king.
Now a highly undeveloped kingdom with no central government, and land ownership is unofficially split between the leaders of various tribes.
Most influential tribe leaders include Sawamura Daichi, Sugawara Koushi, and Azumane Asahi.
Tribes often skirmish with one another for petty reasons but will just as quickly form alliances for the purpose of self-defense against a more powerful, common enemy.
Home of the masters of guerilla warfare.
Its landscape consists almost entirely of wilderness: sparse forests, vast fields of tall wild grass, and dangerous cliffs.
A kingdom that tends to mind its own business and in addition, is rarely provoked by other kingdoms because the land is valuable for neither farming nor mining.
The Aristocracy of Aoba Johsai
Very prestigious kingdom ruled by a small class of exceedingly wealthy and educated individuals.
Traditionally values skill and hard-work, so it’s very possible to become associated with the nobility through merit.
Boasts the most powerful cavalry on the continent, which makes up nearly 70% of its entire military force.
The aristocratic Oikawa family and the military family of Iwaizumi are some of the oldest in the country and have had a partnership for decades; Oikawa and other rich families are responsible for the costs of the military and in return the Iwaizumis act as generals and protect the nation.
Cities are characterized by the baroque style of architecture which reflects Seijoh citizens’ love for the finer things in life such as arts and music.
Has long been threatened by the close proximity of the expanding Shiratorizawa empire.
The Republic of Nekoma
A relatively peaceful nation bordered by the sea on three sides.
A new leader is elected every two years by an elected council and can only be ejected from the office before two years is up if the majority of council agrees to do so.
Historically defeated Shiratorizawa in an epic naval battle which is why the Empire leaves them alone now.
No distinct social classes; all of its citizens aren’t very educated, but most everyone has an abundance of practical knowledge.
Although the kingdom lacks in the natural resources department, it makes up for it by controlling all overseas trade and navigation.
Nekoma’s most influential captain of the navy is Kuroo Tetsuro, formerly a notorious pirate, and he is accompanied by chief navigator Kozume Kenma.
Nekoma ships can be distinguishable by their glossy, menacing red sails.
The Empire of Shiratorizawa
Consists of the kingdom of Shiratorizawa and several surrounding provinces gained through conquest
Largest nation in terms of land mass and occupies some of the best farmlands, which allows agriculture to sustains the kingdom’s wealth and powerful military.
Cities inspired by medieval Japanese architecture and fortified by thick walls to protect against siege.
All authority is held by Emperor and Military General Ushijima Wakatoshi.
Known for the tradition of taming birds of prey.
Currently on a mission to conquer the entire continent but has run into a mild inconvenience known as the Seijoh cavalry.
The Stratocracy of Fukurodani
Formerly a province of Shiratorizawa that persistently fought for independence until Shiratorizawa just went “eh, nevermind, do what you want.”
Retained the Shiratorizawa custom of taming birds, but now exclusively tames owls because those are pretty much the only birds that live in the thick forests of Fukurodani.
Ruled by a council of military officers who meet every two weeks to discuss issues and divide up duties.
Many adventurers come from Fukurodani and travel to visit the other kingdoms, making them great interpreters as well as spies.
Closely tied to the Republic of Nekoma because Fukurodani general Bokuto Kotaro was once friends with Nekoma naval captain Kuroo when they belonged to the same pirate crew.
Another fic for Nessian Smut Week! (Note: Takes place in fae universe) Nesta and Cassian have a heated argument about the Illyrian Blood Rite which has them letting off steam in make-up session.
“Whatever you want sweetheart. Just give the word,” Cassian smirks and shrugs his shirt off. Her pale hands rove his exposed chest riddled with scars. She glides fingers down his tanned muscled skin. Nesta leans up to give him open-mouthed kisses on his collarbone. “I want more than words Cassian. I want you moaning for me and making me never want to leave this bed.” Nesta gripped the sides of his face and brought him down in a searing kiss.
Leaves rustled above Nesta as she sat on a branch overlooking her previous home. Her fae ears could pick out the sound of her father moving in one of the rooms from the opened windows as summer breeze stirred the loose stands of golden brown hair that had escaped the simple braid.
Currently she was wearing plain clothes she had taken from the local village. She didn’t feel terribly bad for the theft since the clothes were mostly ragged, but she couldn’t stand to stay in her fine Night Court clothes after wearing them through her journey. The dark blue shirt she now wore was large enough that it hung slightly off her shoulder and the pants were a tad tight, but she wasn’t going to complain if that meant she could wear clean clothes.
Nesta closed her eyes in contemplation. She had left the Night Court almost five days ago as quickly as she could. Not a moment was spared to grab anything with her or tell anyone where she was going. Which was how she wanted it to be. She hated herself for not warning her sisters ahead of time so they wouldn’t worry, but Nesta had to leave the Night Court before she did or say something she regretted.
The painful memory of Cassian and Nesta’s fight flooded her mind. They were arguing, but that wasn’t uncommon. Usually the fight was nothing major. They would bicker about the small things and tease one another, but their last argument turned into a battle zone. It started off small and escalated into a yelling match.
She faintly recalled that the disagreement stemmed from her wanting to participate in the Blood Rite. The Rite meant she would go unarmed into the mountains at the Illyrian camp without using her magic, Siphons or supplies. Nesta wanted to prove the Illyrians who still thought her frail and useless that she was a force to be reckoned with. She would show them that she was a true warrior rather than a weakling so many of believed her to be. And she planned to beat those pricks by using the Blood Rite they thought meant everything toward being a true Illyrian warrior.
But Cassian was firmly against it. He couldn’t allow his mate on the mountains alone with no allies against hundreds of Illyrians males who would seek her out and try to destroy her.
“You can’t order me not to be in the Blood Rite Cassian,” Nesta said firmly. “It’s my choice.”
“Like hell you’re going into those mountains,” Cassian turned to face her with his arms crossed. He held the posture of the Army Commander who wasn’t willing to budge on this matter. “Nesta those males will do everything in their power to break you up there. My blood is already boiling with the thought of what they would do if they got their hands on you.”
“Let them try,” Nesta haughtily turned her head up to face her mate. “I’m strong enough to take them.”
“Nesta you underestimate them-“
No, you’re underestimating me Cassian.”
“I’m not.” Cassian inhaled trying to control himself as he explained. “Why can’t you just trust me on this Nesta?”
“Because it’s my right Cassian!” Nesta flew her hands in the air in exasperation.
“You were not born an Illyrian Nesta,” Cassian raised his voice as well. “You have no idea what it means to take part in the Rite and I’ll be dead before you’re put in that danger.”
“So you intend chain me like Tamlin tried with Feyre?” Nesta argued back. At this point their voices could be heard by anyone in the House of Wind.
“Don’t you dare compare me to that fucking prick,” Cassian snarled. “I’ve trained with you and allowed you to train with the other Illyrians which is far more than what that bastard ever gave your sister.”
“You allow me to train? Well Commander maybe you should watch yourself, because last I checked I don’t take orders from brutes who think they can control me!”
“You won’t be participating in the damn Blood Rite,” Cassian brushed past Nesta as if wanting to end the argument before it got out of control. But it was already too late.
"Yes. I. Will.” Nesta gritted out and faced Cassian who froze in the kitchen. His hazel eyes darkened and Nesta could see the red Siphons flicker with restrained power.
“Don’t Nesta.” Cassian spoke in a deadly calm manner. “I am asking you to please listen to me instead of thinking about your pride right now.”
“And why?! Why should I when you won’t let me do this one-“
“What would happen if any of those males banded together against you Nesta? Do you think they will go easy on you?” Cassian’s voice boomed with unleashed emotions. “Do you know what would happen if they restrained you? A female, at their mercy? I can imagine that they would do far worse things than what happened you as a human. Is that what you want Nesta? To be taken advantage of and being at their fucking mercy while I can’t do anything to help?” Cassian’s chest heaved in deep breaths. He released his pent up worries and rage at the thought of Nesta being hurt by someone.
His words echoed between them and Nesta was frozen.
Memories of her past with Tomas didn’t plague her mind as often as they used to. She had grown stronger and more resilient since that day. As a human she had narrowly escaped him and as a stronger fae she didn’t imagine she could be pushed into a position like that again. But now Cassian had trudged up those memories and put them in a harsher light.
Cassian thinks I’m still that defenseless human girl who could barely protect herself.
The thought felt like a slap to the face and hurt worse when she could feel the way he was scared for her down the bond. He truly didn’t think she was strong enough to protect herself.
Sadness swept Nesta up before she could control herself. A tinge of anger and fear swirled in the depths of despair that Nesta had fallen into. She quickly put up walls against the bond. Blocking him out and keeping her thoughts and feelings hidden behind them.
Cassian’s head snapped up at the brief flicker emotions he felt from Nesta before her walls cleaved him off.
“Don’t.” Nesta backed away. “Just don’t Cassian.”
He took a small step toward her as if approaching an animal that may bolt in fright. His expression was one of shock and regret. A phantom hand tried to comfort her down the bond, but was met with fortified walls. Cassian’s breath stuttered when he felt their connection blocked by the walls she built.
Nesta didn’t stick around the House of Wind. She hurried away and sought sanctuary away from the pain in his eyes as she fled from him.
A/N: This is an entry for @sdavid09‘s Tale Teller’s Fright Night 2017 and I’ve chosen no.3 on the Halloween “Things” List - “Ghosts”, and no.9 on the Quotes List - “He said he was your brother, and he wanted me to give you this.”
Summary: When Roan appears again an uncertain bond is formed and a risky offer is placed on the table. Will you accept it? (Part 1)(Part 3)
Life in Arkadia was a welcomed change from the fallen Farm Station. There was no more hiding in plain sight, no more scavenging, or living in fear. In the fortified walls of Arkadia, there was safety as armed guards patrolled every square inch of camp. There was food, clean water, and warm living conditions. There were families with children that freely roamed the streets. And, perhaps, the most surprising difference was the relationship between Arkadia’s leaders and the grounders.
Sentiment toward grounders was much different here. While Farm Station leader, Charles Pike, had been enforcing a strict no grounder policy, Chancellor Abigail Griffin and Councilman Marcus Kane were working around the clock on peaceful strategies to unite and ally with the grounders. It was safe to say that the Farm Station residents and their leader weren’t impressed with Abby and Kane’s methods.
Pike was still leading a firm charge in his anti-grounder politics, but you weren’t sure if you completely aligned with his beliefs anymore. On one hand, it was completely logical to harbor disdain toward grounders because of the Ice Nation’s terrible offenses; however, you knew it was absurd to hold an entire group to one standard.
For instance, there was Roan and that piece of you that believed he was inherently good. If it wasn’t for him, you never would’ve survived long enough to see Arkadia. He showed you mercy, the same emotion that Pike constantly preached that the grounders were incapable of displaying, and if he was capable of such empathy then so were others.
Roan, you thought about him quite often. You couldn’t count the times he crossed your mind or appeared in your dreams, haunting you with that piercing gaze and surrounded by question marks. Why did he help you? What changed his mind or had he been leading you to Arkadia the entire time? Since Roan had been badly wounded during your last encounter, you wondered if he was even still alive. Even if he did manage to survive, you knew it would be impossible to find him again and receive face to face answers for your queries. You never imagined you would get the opportunity at all, let alone, so soon.
My first-ever posted Batfam fic! Aaaaand it’s a bucket of angst. For @camsthisky‘s #batfamcontentwar.
Summary: Damian’s whole world falls out from under him when his most loyal companion is taken from him. Dick tries to pick up the pieces.
Just a heads-up/warning that this does touch on the death of a beloved pet. They say write what you know, and this exact scenario happened to my family a few years ago (apparently I’m still processing it). So… sorry, not sorry?
Damian was too quiet. Dick rushed to the manor as soon as he’d gotten Alfred’s message, but now that he was here, he wasn’t sure what to do. This was nothing short of an emergency, and Bruce was off-world, making everything worse with his absence. Dick had dropped everything, including the special plans he’d made with Barbara, even though it pained him to let her down again. This was too important. His little brother’s world had come crashing down because Titus was dead.
Dick stared from the door to Damian’s bedroom at the unsettling sight. Damian sat on the bed facing the window, staring into the void.
Of course, Dick knew that numbness, that feeling of floating away from the pull of Earth’s gravity until you were spinning through cold nothingness without oxygen or light.
For a brief moment, Dick found himself reeling again with the memory of that pain. But right now, his own traumas were not as important as Damian’s current distress. Dick swallowed down the lump in his throat and plowed into the room. He knelt in front of the silent boy. “Hey kiddo.”
With what seemed to be a great effort, Damian focused his blank stare on Dick’s face. He blinked once, then took a shuddering breath, as if he hadn’t breathed in a while. “Grayson,” he said in a flat tone. “There was no need for you to come. You should have remained with Gordon.”
“I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“Tt. As you can see, I am perfectly adequate. There was no need for concern. It is a simple fact,“ -he drew in another sharp breath- “that the animal was too stupid and trusting to avoid traffic, so he deserved to die.” But Damian’s heartless speech was undermined by the way his face scrunched up in pain.
“Oh, Damian,” Dick murmured, and pulled him off the bed into his arms. Only then did Damian’s heavily fortified walls come down around him. He dropped every pretense of being “adequate,” and melted into Dick’s embrace, sobbing quietly.
* Hamilsquad x agender!Reader * Modern * Requested by anonymous (both) * Request: Hamilsquad x agender!Reader where Charles Lee or Thomas or both make fun of the reader and they’re very depressed afterwards and the Hamilsquad tries and succeeds at cheering them up (they/them) pronouns. * Request: The reader feels really bad about themselves and is insecure and the squad helps cheer them up? If you could make it fluffy, that would be awesome. Could you also use they/them pronouns.
A/N: I’ll tell you, I glared at my computer screen trying to come up with a more original idea and not as degrading intro but I couldn’t. I’m going apologize in advance if I offend anyone with my intro to the story but it’s Thomas and Charles being assholes…and I apologized if I completely fuck this story up. I’m not sure how good I’ll do writing agender reader, so…I hope I did good and I hope you guys enjoy. I also hope you know my inbox is always open if y’all want to talk or you can private message me.
Word Count: 1,486 (Sorry it’s shorter than usual. I didn’t know what else to add.)
You sat in the dinning hall wishing one of your friends was with you. Hercules promised to meet up with you but he had a meeting with one of his professors. He swore it wouldn’t take long. Still, you wished he didn’t have it at all. You hated being in the dinning hall alone. It made you feel more singled out than you already were. It didn’t help when you saw two men walk into the building. One in a god-awful magenta shirt, the other with his black hair slicked to one side. You slouched in your chair, practically begging for the ground to just open up beneath your chair right then and there. Anything to keep those two from noticing you.
However, that kind of divine intervention didn’t happen. Also, it seemed like at least one of those men could always tell when you were with 100 yards of them. You watched as Charles scanned the room. His eyes landed on you and he his evil smirk fell into place. This kid had called out a professor once. Alexander and John both threatened his life afterwards, but still, he didn’t care what people thought of him. Charles nudged Thomas and nodded toward you.
You weren’t doing this today. You scooped up your things and made a be-line to the dish drop off to leave the dinning hall. However, Thomas stepped in front of you. Had you not skidded to a stop when you did, you would’ve ended up wearing what was left of your lunch.
You had pulled him down beside you, your stomachs pressed tightly to the ground, pointing out to what you saw just ahead.
A small family of rabbits.
A mother and her kits, their heads just barely peeking out from the burrow, their noses crinkled and cautious.
His gaze widened like saucers as he met what you were pointing out, his ears perking towards the creatures, claws scraping at the dirt, and his pupils becoming thinner than slits.
And surely, you knew.
You snatched up his hand in your own, holding him down, puffing out your cheeks indignantly.
“Leave them alone…!” You had snapped, furrowing your brow. “Just…watch them.”
“It’s nice, just to sit and observe.” You explained delicately. “Just to sit and take it all in.”
He tensed, his shoulder blades shifting awkwardly as he forced himself to stay still.
“Do you do this often?”
“My dad says that even though we’re hunters, it’s important to just take time to appreciate it all,” You remarked. “if we spend all our time hunting there won’t be anything left to provide for others. Sometimes, we just need to leave it be.”
“My family hasn’t had that luxury before.” He hummed. “Typically we have to go after everything we can find.”
“…Oh.” You folded your lips, a tinge of guiltbubbling in your eyes. “Well, I think you could now. I mean, we’re friends now right? And friends help each other.”
“What do you mean?”
“My family’s helping you now, so…maybe now you can do this…?”
He had thought for a moment, a hint of hope growing in his features before he nodded gently.
“…Just sit and watch?”
“And enjoy it.”
You smiled at the memory.
It was a faint smile, but it still lingered even as you had left your kingdom and made your way to another it remained.
Your home’s grand gate had shut behind you as you were escorted out, the towering, vine entwined wall staring out towards you, almost emptily now.
Within there’d be countless cottages and shops, people busheling about amongst the training soldiers, barreling children, or even the tamed beasts, following alongside the hunters that sought them out.
It almost seemed like a rite of passage throughout your country, nearly each and every person having sealed a bond with an animal as sacred as a family’s.
Your mother, an enormous timber wolf, steady, huge haunches and fur clotted and dotted with scars that often left a shiver trailing down your spine.
Your father, a hawk that tended to follow after you as if a sort of guard, speckled feathers, and amber eyes never too far behind you.
But you yourself?
It even left a few superstitious citizens wary of where you ‘truly came from’, going so far as to claim you as illegitimate.
That hadn’t exactly gone well with your parents.
But nonetheless, you couldn’t help but be confused.
Why hadn’t you found one?
Usually, they were found as a child, but you had simply seemed hopeless for some reason.
And to say the least, that terrified you.
Yet as you left, you couldn’t help but feel at least comforted in that fact, knowing that the constant pressure to find that connection would no longer be plastered to your every mood.
No, instead it would be learning the customs and manners of a whole different territory.
After all, you couldn’t go off with the small stories and tales told from your fiance as a child.
But, they wasn’t exactly anything to go off of.
It would simply be a matter of adaptation.
And as you entered the new area, you knew it’d be dire.
The kingdom was set up amongst a cluster of tightly packed hills towards the top of the mountains that bordered the region, thick, heavily fortified stone walls looming over you as the gate toppled down to greet you.
And sounds flooded in.
The sounds of chatter almost instantly drowned your ears, many pointing, and following after you curiously.
Some of the children even outright asked you.
“What’re you doing here?”
“You don’t have much fur, aren’t you cold?”‘
“Where are your ears?”
“You look like those…h-humans…?”
Snow painted the grounds, a mixture of crackling ice and clacking of stone as the horses carried you from your carriage, snorting and whipping their tails from side to side.
Smoke puffed out of each of the homes, whether cobblestone or crafted from wood, tarps of the flags used to shield the residents from the snow and cold.
The people themselves were much cleaner than Mr. Han as you had first met him, thicker in fur and hair but well-clothed and fed, hints of their white, sharp fangs peeking out as they spoke.
You peered forward as the coachman twisted back to meet you.
“We’re approaching the Han’s…castle if you have anything you need to gather your things I suggest you do so now.”
“Oh um…thank you, of course.”
You fumbled for your things, only a small pack that you wound around your waist, one of the two things you had taken with you.
And inside was letters.
Letters from your mother from her hunting expeditions, your father from his travels, and Jumin, from your childhood days.
And the other was your old hunting blade.
You had taken it with you just about everywhere from the second it was given, this was no different.
For just as the letters, you kept them close to your heart.
You stepped outside as the carriage came to a halt, the coachman slipping off from his seat, helping you out.
“I hope you enjoy your stay,” He murmured, shivering. “At least more than I have.”
You simpered, dipping your head politely as you pressed a few coins into his palm.
“It’s greatly appreciated.”
And with that, he was off, giving you a kind wave as the horses raced off, the only reminder of them being the tangles of air brought with the cold.
You wearily moved inside the manor, finding it oddly made from thick, mahogany, unlike the oak and stone surrounding it.
And inside, was awe-inspiring.
Slick, pristine wood made the walls and floors, ornate yet worn furniture set up about against the engraved and polished banks.
Immediately you heard voices and movement.
And soon enough, you were met with a woman.
She was smaller than the ones you had met outside, only wearing a few pelts to combat the frigid weather, clad in heavy leather with a carving of the Han family symbol against the fabric.
“Ah, your highness,” She bowed curtly, moving a few stray strands of muddy brown hair from her face. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
“I’m Jahee Kang,” She introduced herself, her tone oddly stoic and formal. “I’m the advisor of the Han family, usually if you need anything to be provided from the manor, you’ll come to me.”
Her ears, flattened slightly, a frown coming to her lips.
“I understand you must be…uncertain, but please trust in me when I say we will do everything we came to help you properly settle in.”
“I-I know it’s just…” You fiddled with your fingers sheepishly. “it’s just so different.”
“That is commonly said from newcomers. You’ll adjust though, I’m sure of it.”
She softened, if only a tad, gesturing to you to follow.
“Here, come along, Jumin’s been waiting for your arrival.”
You nodded, rushing after her as she instantly took off, her boots as quiet as a whisper, gliding against the floors.
“Now, at least one thing I hope can ease your mind is hunting,” She explained. “We haven’t been as frantic with food supply since we began relations with your people but there are still organized parties every couple of months. The next one is coming up, and if you’d like to join, I’d be more than happy to reserve you a spot.”
“Oh, I um…I’d like that.”
“Excellent, surely it’ll help you befriend some of the people.”
She continued rambling, her words eventually blurring in your head only worries and concerns flooding in.
What if Jumin had changed?
How much had he changed?
Would you even recognize him?
Would he recognize you?
Did he even still care…?
You didn’t want some of them to be answered.
“Here we are.”
You were snatched from your terrors as Jahee pointed out a grand door.
You thanked her gently, watching as she left and left you just before the entry.
And whether or not you truly wanted to, you pushed it open.
Upon a remote mesa top outside of Sedona, Arizona stand the crumbling remains of the House of Apache Fire, built by Jack Frye for his beloved wife, Helen. He designed it to resemble the striking and unique architecture of the Hopi people. After their divorce, the house passed to Helen.
Helen Frye was a prominent member of the arts community in Sedona, being a founder of the Sedona Arts Center that still stands today. Sometime in the 1970s, however, she became deeply involved in a newly-formed mystical cult called
Eckankar. The cult immediately took control of her house, making alterations and turning the house into their Spiritual Center.
One of these changes was replacing windows with mirrors, so as to protect the privacy of the worshipers inside. Walls were fortified, hidden rooms were added, and a meditation chamber they called a kiva was built underground. The hand-painted floor tiles were destroyed for no reason at all, except to remind Helen who was in control. She turned over significant amounts of money to them over the years, giving them a major financial boost.
Thanks to Helen Frye’s money, the Eckankar are still around today, although they no longer own the House of Apache Fire. They sold it in 1980; it now stands on property owned by Red Rock State Park, and has fallen into ruin.
You sit alone upon your lonely throne You’re so oblivious to your own frailty The sky erupts, the ground has opened wide An unhappy ending to the life you’ve glorified To the life you’ve glorified
You feel so safe inside the walls you fortified Supremacy implied, who dares to overthrow? Arrogance justified, self-importance amplified It’s down you go, we’ll all enjoy the show Can’t wait to see you go when your walls fall like Jericho - Jericho (Celldweller)
All interviews are voluntary, so everyone can get an idea of the entities that I work with. This is Au, a demon I work with that can be rather blunt, so forgive him, lol. He is also one of the unbounds I work with, and rather surprised me when he expressed interest in doing this. He gives off a very heavy energy, that almost feels like sludge or slime, which can be overwhelming if you a aren't used to it. I do get headaches from it sometimes if he pops out of nowhere. He is very nice to me, but has an intense temper and is quick to act (too quick sometimes).
Hey, to start off with, what would you prefer to be called during the duration of this interview? You do not have to share your full name if you are not comfortable, and can use an initial if you like.
Au is fine. (Its a shortened version of his name)
You understand you do not have to answer any questions if you aren't comfortable sharing, and that this will be shared with others?
K, what sort of entity are you?
Why do you ask questions you know?
*grunt* Right. Demon, although there is no human word for my species.
Is there anything special your species does?
We are attracted to the lack of energy left in the death of life in all creatures and beings.
Do you have a favorite way of communicating?
I start laughing.
Do you want me to describe your appearance or either of your forms?
Can I describe the energy you put off?
What attracted you to working with humans?
I am not.
I am human.
You are different.
You do not fear like others, and have a curiosity. You did not banish me or scream when I arrived the first night.
How did you find me?
I was nearby.
Would you work with other humans in the future? Do you have an interest in that now?
*grunts* I do not know. Unlikely.
Has your impression of me changed over time.
You are funny!
You never think I am funny! (I think I rolled my eyes)
You find me funny!
You are funny sometimes! In what ways have you worked with me?
I fortified your walls.
(He did add to my wards around my home and astral areas.)
Do you get along with your family?
I like this family. They don't all trust me but I like them.
Thats adorable, although I meant do you have any other family?
*thinks for a minute* I do not communicate with them.
K, do you have favorite foods?
I like that cow slice that you eat!
(Hes referring to steak, I think)
Do you have anything you like bonding over?
That tube you smoke that makes you laugh!
My weed vape?
Seriously? Alright. Um, what are your favorite colors?
Brown and red.
How did I know that was coming...
Whats your favorite donut?
A human pastry thats sweet and sometimes has frosting. And has different flavors.
That sounds good. Do you eat those?
They aren't that healthy.
But they sound like something you would like.
I do like them, I just don't eat them.
Then how am I to know what they taste like?
Point taken. How long have you been working with me?
You don't do my work.
I meant how long have you been casually hanging around here?
Oh. 8 months.
This is starting to get long, we should stop for now. Would you do this again?
Good, I have to leave soon. It would depend on the questions.
Would you like to say goodbye?
I am not leaving yet.
Anyway, hope you all like this, I'll post more in the next day or two!
Why do some Turn-Based strategy games use Random Number Regenerators for things like accuracy and critical hit? Wouldn't you think that an unlucky roll at a crucial moment, or several unlucky rolls that lead to a bad situation would cause more frustration than interesting gameplay?
While this can lead to frustration, random results also swing the other way - sometimes the player gets a lucky hit or critical strike. It can have a polarizing effect, but the overall takeaway is usually a net positive for the game because of how the feature is usually handled. If it was just a random chance with no way to affect it, I would agree - it wouldn’t really add much to the gameplay aside from an uncontrollable random element that would cause some amount of frustration. But games, especially strategy games, are almost never designed this way. Instead, we design the game in a way to allow the player to mitigate the risk, and to capitalize on it as well.
In most games, designers build in means to allow the player to control the effects of randomness. It could be by giving a higher critical rate to artillery units on higher ground, lowering the chance of a critical hit landing on defenders within fortified walls, or adding specific technology research that increases the player’s unit critical hit rate, or reduces the chance of hits, damage, etc. on the player’s units. There’s also the possibility of adding gear or consumable items to adjust these numbers. By providing a basis for the player to influence the effects of the randomness, it provides a sense of strategy and depth to the player. Good players will be able to mitigate the effects of the randomness by demonstrating mastery of the system and the game.
It’s also important to note that we designers don’t necessarily want to eliminate randomness entirely. By having the chance of something going haywire (even if it is small), it makes things interesting for the player. A victory that is completely assured usually isn’t particularly interesting or exciting to the player; a victory that’s pretty close can be much more. Players get a measurably larger dopamine rush when they get an unexpected benefit to their play, like landing a critical hit, and they also get a big rush when they manage to come from behind to take the victory.
Ultimately, there are always the chances of the dice coming up snake eyes and losing because of randomness, and that feels lousy. However, well designed games provide avenues for players to mitigate the chance of catastrophe, while retaining and building on the positive aspects of the randomness. In doing so, the players get to improve their skills and achieve mastery of the game systems, while still reaping the benefit of lucky rolls. These overall benefits far outweigh the small percentage of the time when a player is super unlucky and manages to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.