Mutants are a fact of life in the city, one often hidden from public eye in the far less tolerant zones but one that still exists all the same. The Pipeworks that they make their homes within are immense in scale... perhaps so much much so that the city we 'know' is merely the tip of a proverbial iceburg of metal and mutation..... In truth it is very possible that mutants actually make up an immense majority of the cities population, but of course that is only supposition.
These are some but a few of the many, many different species of mutants that make the city their home.
Sidesteppers: Angry crab like mutants that energed shortly after the founding of the city Sidesteppers are highly agressive and have the odd ability to change the pygmint of their shells. These changes typically correlate with a rush of hormons that cause the Sidesteppers to become far faster and more agressive.
Fighter Flies: Strange bug like creatures that reside within the upper Pipeworks the Figher Flight is too large for its wings to carry it any appreiable different and as such it instead manuvers via hoping around. It gives these horrifying abominations an almost comical look to them at times.
Proto Visceroid: Some of the earliest mutants ever encountered the Proto Visceroid is a strange red blob with many, many, many human eyes scattered through they're form. They are aggressive and typically attack by trying to suffocate their enemies via covering them in fleshy biomass. Thankfully they are weak to ice based attacks, something not shared by their more 'advanced' counterparts. It is unknown what proto visceroids mutated from and unlike other variants of visceroid they do not have a known source. Unlike other versions of the Visceroid they are not Chaos Mutants.
Alpha Visceroid: Despite holding onto the traditional blob like shape and having the eyes of the Proto-Vsceroid the Alpha Visceroid is a Chaos Mutant a creature born from unique chaotic energies radiated by certain gemstones and crystals. The Alpha Visceroids eyes however are blind and the creatures attacks via its acidic body as opposed to suffication. The most common source of ALpha Visceroids are humans or uplifts unfortunate enough to be exposed to excessive amounts of chaotic radiation. Thankfully they cannot reproduce.
Beta Visceroid: Much like the Alpha Visceroid except they lack eyes entirly and instead of being created by simple exposed the Beta Visceroid is the result of being exposed to a chemical gas suffused with Chaos Radiation. Additionally these Visceroids possess two staged, a baby stage during which they are relativly docile and an adult stage in which they become a threat even to large vehicals or robots. It is unkown if they have any further stages or if they can reproduce but few people want to take the risk of either of those options being true.
Crystal kin: A relativly stable human mutation, Crystal Kin are a Chaos mutation that has become common in humans that don't become visceriods for one reason or another. While the extent of the organization is know many Crystal Kin have gathered together in an organization known as the 'Forgotten'. The motivations of this groupare as of yet an enigma.
Chaos Fiend: Large black dog like mutants typically seem with rows of green crystals growing on their back. Chaos mutants are savage being able to burrow at incredible speeds and capable of launching barraches of crystals capable to easily shredding tank armor from their back. They have a pack like social structure and many other mutants, especially Crystal Kin have been known to tame them. Rumors of Chaos Fiends with different color crystals on thier back and different properties as a result are unconfirmed.
Chaos Floaters: Have been descriped as a 'Floating Jellyfish of Hate' Chaos Floaters true to their name primariy move about via hovering close to the ground. When they contact anything they see as prey they grapple it with their tenticals and shock it with enough elecriticy to reduce metal to slag. On top of that they also release poison gas infused with radiation that will cause most living things that die of it to turn into Beta Visceroids.
Veinhole Monsters: Large disgusing Chaos Mutants composed of a 'mouth' build into the ground with 'veins'that act like Kudzu within the sorrunding area. Veinhole Monsters are known to attack anything that traverses them above a certain weight class and additionally are know to release poison gas that, much like the gas of the Chaos Floater, turns life forms killed by it into Beta Visceroids. The Brotherhood of Nod is rumored to have weaponized this substance by deploying specialized 'Weed Eaters' to collect parts of the creatures biomass and convert it into a highly toxic chemical weapon.
"A pirate is a scoundrel who takes, and a privateer is a mercenary that delivers."
Holy goddamn shit that is a good line. Reading this whole Omake was wonderful. You nailed the atmosphere and the genuine dread that Wolf instilled, despite never raising his voice. Pigma, Leon, and ESPECIALLY Wolf was written in character. I liked how you worked in reports of the UFOs into the omake and sprinkled in references to the Starfox games, F-Zero, and even Monkey Island of Lechuck booze is anything to go off.
You captured the dangerous, draconian nature of Starwolf masterfully and it was a treat to read this.
This was a nice, humorous little setup! It's amusing to see a gardener's reaction to the slugs be so intensely violent. Having a big burning murder pit for the attack slugs contrasting their gentle demeanor. I also liked your descriptions, especially the match-stick one!
This was an unexpected but very well written Omake. The setup with CD finding a strange bat and thinking back to the conversation her siblings had with her felt very in character. CD smashing a crow into space and stunning Buzz Buzz into cursing was pretty funny. You also got the color-text pretty spot on (I should PROBABLY get around to putting proper hex-codes down for the characters colors at some point).
Overall this was a very fun Omake with a surprising amount of depth and meat to it for an otherwise amusing premise. Excellent job!
…If this is a "Town with No Name" reference then that's impressively subtle. If not, now I have to live with the realization that would actually *fit* into the Outlands.
Anyway, this was a VERY cool Omake! I have to say I love your dedication to doing the LiveALive series in 8-Bit Dystopia. Working with a theme and playing with an already great game gives your Omakes a lot of charm.
I recognize Half-Fast Pete from some Atari game. Pairing him up with Maddog and having their contrasting personalities, and fight styles, honestly makes them a great duo. You did a great job characterizing Pete, who otherwise doesn't have an established personality.
A short, but rather emotional and ominous Omake. I appreciate the tone you've set and the appropriate night time 'feel' of the whole thing. Touching on the running theme of parental neglect/issues feels appropriate. I particularly like the ending. Also, it has a cat in it, and everything is better with a cat!
Writing Sam and Max dialogue is hard, but this was pretty on point! I genuinely laughed at several points and was smiling the whole time reading it. These two nutballs would fit right into the city. The Happy-Happiests are pretty spot on for something they'd encounter in one of their zanny murders, Americana and all. Also, I like the "rabbit uplift(?)" line. As if the setting itself isn't totally sure what the hell Max is.
This was a very dense, satisfying Omake. I'm not particularly familiar with the D&D cRPGs, but I do recognize references to Jagged Alliance, Metal Slug, Metal Gear, and a lot more. All fit connected rather seamlessly. I think you did a good job justifying orcs, etc from the cRPGs in the setting of 8-Bit dystopia. It all works pretty well in the outlands.
Though since D&D is connected to a larger non-video game 'franchise' in a sense, I feel it disqualifies it from really working in 8-Bit Dystopia. Similar to how there's a lot of anime and movie games from the same time period that don't work for similar reasons. However you certainly managed to capture the proper D&D feel, cRPG or not, with your omake!
Wily's Dirt
This Omake was severely lacking. It was non-descriptive, it had a poor structure that made it difficult to read, and all the characters involved were written entirely out of character. Wily especially felt out of character. Given everything the man has done, and likely already seen, it doesn't really make sense for him to have such a visceral reaction to a few taped murders. While the idea of extremists hijacking a Master Robot is intriguing, the fact Nightmare has taken over Metalman just makes it feel rather nonsensical.
I don't feel comfortable awarding any EXP for this because I know you can do better.
I enjoyed this Omake a lot and feel you did a really good job. Megaman: Battle Network is past the threshold for 8-Bit Dystopia inclusion, but there's a lot of characters that would be fun to adopt for the setting. I enjoyed the contrast between the harsh backdrop of The City and Mayl's own isolation with her little projects. Roll.exe starting off as a chatbot made for Mayl's own emotional support is honestly an equal parts sad and fascinating origin.
My only criticisms is are the dialogue wasn't formatted properly, with no "-"'s to denote talking, or typing in the case of the story, and that you didn't give a name to the Omake.
Beyond that I think you did an excellent job and hope to see more Omakes from you in the future!
This was a fun Omake. Going over mutants and monsters and adapting them to make sense in relation to The City is always fun to read. I will say in the future however you should create a spoiler'd section at the bottom noting what mutants you're adapting from where. Until it got to the Veinholes and mentioned Nod, I hadn't realized you were adapting the mutants from C&C: Tiberium.
This was a wonderful story! I'm sorry for not getting to it sooner. You paint a very interesting picture of the CEO Mayor. I genuinely liked the 'twist' that the Omake was being told from someone's actual perspective, watching the mayor and judging them accordingly. Perkle's justification for their actions and their selfish, power driven nature is both satisfying and rather believable in my opinion. The final lines were chilling and perfectly send off an unsettling look into a dangerous existence. Excellent work!
| @The3rdCorinthian frog is awarded +400 EXP | - Marked for canon ascension!
The Eccentric Dr Tobei
Another wonderful Live A Live story from you! You said you weren't satisfied with the flashback in your notes, but personally I liked it a lot. One of the fantastic things about 8-Bit Dystopia is examining the crossover and interconnectivity between the involved materials. It makes a lot of sense that Eggman would be very keen on a technology like Liquefaction, especially given how much of his tech already uses 'biological materials'. Excellent work, Griff!
This was a fantastic Omake. I can't say how much I appreciate using characters other people might overlook. Your mention of Edson from Project: Dream especially gets my kudos. This story was well structured, engaging, and had me actually quite invested while reading it. Blackeye's bit of having to correct someone about his own name was honestly pretty funny. Overall this was a very well done Omake and I appreciate the effort you put in! Also, fuck yeah PIRATES!
I understand immediately how difficult writing this story to fit the cave-man feel must have been. Despite that the story was still a lot of fun to read, and the involvement of Ayla from Chrono Trigger honestly made the whole thing come together. I can't think of two more fitting cave people to get involved in one another's stories. Excellent work, Griffin. And I have to say I appreciate immensely that you're continuing to write in the theme of touching on each of the Live-A-Live characters!
I appreciate the unique format of this story, it was funny to read. Also, oh god, I hadn't considered how many Cids there are in this setting until I read this. Excuse me while I go stare into the middle distance for a few moments.
You did a very good mixing of Final Fantasy elements and Breathe of Fire. Even though it's just in your notes, the idea of Yorae seeding dragons in the Outlands honestly does work quite a lot in my opinion. This was a very well written Omake and one that has a lot of fascinating interactions in terms of the setting lore as a whole. Thank you for putting in the effort to make this Griff!
This is a little short, but for a small Omake I like the emotion behind it. Exploring Stormy's emotions and the isolation of their day to day as they begin to s p i r a l was very fun to read. I appreciate your experimentation with colored text and unsettling imagery. The structure was also very clean and easy to follow, which I'm always thankful for. Thank you for writing this story Frog~!
I won't dock you for the 'part' element of the story. I appreciate when people put effort to things and I can tell that you put effort into this Omake! Wild Arm's inclusion felt odd at first, but the first game was pretty solidly a mix of fantasy elements and western aesthetics so it made more sense going along. Good work on the dialogue, characterization, and the smooth flow of the story.
You nailed how the parents of Porky and Picky act to a tee. These two are so reprehensible it's genuinely funny up until the point that its not, and I think that deserves some praise. This is more or less canon to this Quest as far as I'm concerned, so great job!
| @FalloutCow is awarded +300 EXP! | - Canon Ascended!
Orphans of Gaia- Part 2
I don't feel this meets the requirements for Beyond the City, especially since it's the second part to something you've already written and it wasn't expressly written with the bounty in mind. The story is nice though and I appreciate the satisfying structure it has to it. Also, I just appreciate you didn't leave this to languish solely on the first part.
This was a cheeky Omake with some fun character interactions and dialogue. Even if you did take some liberties with CD and how she acts, the Outfielders depicted here certainly felt like kids and teens. You did a good job showing the reservations and uncertainty anyone would have given the circumstances they find themselves in. Excellent work! Also, I found the Metal Blade joke to be very funny.
This was a really neat take on the story. The opening was really well done at setting the scene and the fact that you brought up the Secret Shop from Fire Emblem was honestly surprising! Your take on the different weapons and their case uses were fun to read. Really the whole thing was just a lot of fun and I felt it was very in line with the setting itself. Thank you for putting in the effort to make this, you knocked it out of the park!
| @3-13 Sniper is awarded +300 EXP |
| BOUNTY FULFILLED: Bombs? They're Yours My Friend… |
| +Archaic Items have appeared in Eagle Quarter, +New faction action unlocked for later |
151 Hopes, 151 Dreams, 151 Memories
This was a genuinely well done story. I really liked your take on Oak. The idea of him as a deeply troubled, unfocused youth only to find himself through his love of insects and later wildlife in general was honestly rather heart warming. Really all the little details and justifications you put towards things like his name, background, and quirks were really well thought out. Seeing him as this troubled, doubt-filled, scientist still holding out hope to make The City felt very appropriate to how I imagined he would turn out in 8-Bit Dystopia.
Also, I don't think your portrayal of Oak is derivative of Light. This is a cyberpunk story, tragedy and struggle is as natural to the setting and it's people as the need to rise up and refuse to accept the status quo!
Excellent work!~ <3
| @woweed is awarded +400 EXP! |
|Bounty Claimed: Blasting Off Agai-Wait, Wrong Quest |
| +??? Has been unlocked, +??? Has been Opened, +Higher Chance for???|
Another Day in Eagleland: Rows of Teeth
You did a great job describing the unsettling feeling of the town and that someone was wrong. Describing their grandma on all fours, eating something in the kitchen, was particularly creepy. Setting it from one of the Sharks members point of view was also a very neat approach. This was a satisfying, concise Omake!
| @ScribeTransient is awarded +300 EXP! |
| Bounty Claimed: Another Day in Eagleland |
|+10 to next faction Diplomacy check as per writer request|
Psychic Spread 1
Amy is an interesting pick for this! The tarot reading and their more empathetic nature certainly makes them feel like they lean towards more esoteric things.
Though I am admittedly a rather disappointed with the approach taken with Amy in this Omake. The fact it's so similar to the Archie Comics take makes it feel a little divorced from the actual setting of 8-Bit Dystopia, which feels like a missed opportunity to really play with the character and interpret them differently.
The City is a diverse place and the fate of an Uplift, especially one in Eggman's domain, could have had a lot of interesting strife and circumstances that could have shaped them different from their more canonical counterparts.
This Omake feels more tell then show in parts, but it's detailed and written competently. Thank you for putting in the work to write this up.
| @Frozen Flame is awarded +200 EXP |
| Bounty Claimed: Psychic Spread |
| +15 to next PSI training roll(with increased stat gains), +Chance to meet a new character!|
A day in the Life of B.H. Pirkle.
(events occur around the end of turn 3, start of turn 4)
7:00 – Waking up
As your mind begins to rouse itself from slumber, you manage to groggily lever yourself into a semblance of an upright position upon the king sized bed. As you rub your eyes and get their dried mucus onto your silken nightclothes, you try to recall the dream that you had as best you can.
You can vaguely remember a baseball game, and that your team was composed of seven foot purple men? What was it called… the Jaggers? And then, when it was your turn to bat, you had instead been using a rubber chicken. The other team claimed that you were in fact using a turkey, and that this was cheating that disqualified you from the game.
Dreams, of course, can be deeply strange things.
7:45 - Breakfast
You help yourself to what you consider to be a humble meal of Poached egg and salmon (artificial of course. You aren't made of money) Kedgeree, with an assortment of local real fruit on the side. You don't particularly notice when the ketchup you've slathered over your meal drips onto your napkin. You are far more concerned with the morning paper.
The news about the lights worries you greatly. You had been reassured that the Traitor had been located. In order for the extermination to be so clearly visible to the populace means not everything went as planned. It gives rise to the fear that you might be caught.
Already the gears of your mind turn, churning out a story to give to strong. Or at least a subtle prodding towards whatever you want him to believe. Were he to realise the truth, then the veteran of the Invader wars might well decide to actually use the power he holds.
It is a matter for later. For the moment, you instead decide to finish your ketchup with egg and salmon.
9:30 – Managing your Corporation.
Keeping the various spinning plates of your small empire from falling down is something of a challenge.
You have other people to manage that. You tell yourself this isn't laziness, but the art of delegation.
In truth, you do not own any one company. You own several much smaller ones, many of them focus upon the use of one of the few areas of actual greenery present in the Eagle Quarter. Producing real wood floorboards, paper, toothpicks. The list goes on. Plant life is almost nonexistent in the City outside of Eagle Quarter, and this gives you a niche.
One of the advantages is that you're able to charge a premium for the 'sustainably sourced' products. It's not even that much of a lie. Replanting does happen, even if the rate is far slower than the amount of timber you source. But you tell yourself that such is simply the needs of the market and profit, and out of your hands.
You fired everyone who had told you about the need for deadwood, or of a diversity of tree species. Until you found someone who told you what you already needed to hear. An opinion you could use to justify extorting people for even more of their currency.
You also sell products that are not labelled as being sustainably sourced, of course. Significantly cheaper. Those who can't take the former inevitably use the latter.
They are the exact same product. Both of them cost significantly more than it takes to produce. This makes you feel intelligent, as though this were not some scheme based off low cunning.
You watch how the money rolls in.
11:35 – Meeting with Captain Strong
"Captain, please, I don't think you need to be a detective to figure out this little mystery."
The chief of the Onett Police Department stands ahead of you, arms folded behind his back, face inscrutable behind his sunglasses. His form of hand to hand combat might be rudimentary, elements seeming to have more style than substance – something that seems out of character for the man – but he could still almost certainly break you like a twig.
He will not, of course. Captain Strong is far too principled a man to sieze power like that. Unlike you, he supposes to have a code that he believes in. A method by which he absolves himself of all responsibility.
"Frankly speaking Sir, I'd be hesitant to make any such snap judgements. There's blood at the scene, and the remains of some of the Lamps seem atomised. At least one looks like it was turned into some eerie modern art sculpture."
"Well come on. Your movement gets all it's signs vandalised, My third house gets robbed blind, and then someone goes on this kind of a bender stirring up trouble? It's obviously one of the brats that your Fresh Breeze movement is focused on. Some snot-nosed punk who doesn't want to be disciplined, acting out against their elders and betters."
Strong raises one eyebrow questioningly. "And the Melted Asphalt? The lights seen from the edge of town? The hole in the forest canopy that looks like someone shot straight at one of the mountains?"
You shrug. "Only thing I can think of that would do that would be a Super Scope or something. Modded probably. Brat uses it to grab a bunch of lamps for target practice – maybe with some lackeys – and then shows off and fires at max power, gets hurt by the recoil."
Strong looks as though to make an argument, but pauses. Your points line up with his pre-existing worldview, and it allows him to continue his crusade against that which he sees as opposed to Law and Order.
"I will take your observations under advisement sir."
You smile internally, an issue painted over.
14:55 – Council Meeting
Following a lunch break in which you attempt to flirt with a secretary with the sleaze you think passes for charm, it is time for a meeting with the city council.
It is not, of course, a real council. Any attempt as such might result in you losing even a fragment of the control you possess over Onett and its inhabitants. No, instead this is more akin to a boardroom meeting for a corporation, just where the focus is on the town instead of you lining your pockets.
Two items on the agenda you know are non-negotiable. First of these is preventing the removal of the blockade.
This is easily dealt with. You have successfully hidden the true balance of power in Onett for years, pretending to be a humble 'Mayor' beholden to the Polices whims. You claim to be unable to do anything to shift Strongs mind. More importantly, you are able to play down the effects of the blockade, noting that many in Onett run small family units instead of major businesses. You skirt around the fact that those who do not fit into this paradigm will be left starving as time goes on.
The recent conflict gives you another lever. The threat of an assailant armed with an energy weapon helps to reinforce the idea of a need for protection. That the blockade may prevent anyone else getting their hands on such a weapon.
Then, refusing to lower the costs of healthcare. You again need not worry too much. The hospitals and insurance companies will back you on this. You argue that the increase in animal attacks and the fear of violence from River City refugees that managed to slip in before the police bloakcaded the City are putting more pressure on companies. Isn't it only right for them to charge more, and to dissuade those whose injuries are not truly worth treating.
These are not the reasons you argue such. It is because you fear that if you do not, if you act to betray your new superiors, then it will all come down on your head. And so, you try to preserve yourself, even as you know these decisions will leave individuals unable to pay their rents of heal their wounds.
There is, after all, only one more item on your agenda.
18:30 – The Meeting of utmost importance.
It is late. You sit in one of your offices, surrounded by various plants and assorted paraphernalia. The majority of your employees have left for the day, and those that have stayed would have no reason to come here. You are as alone as you can be, deep enough within your City hall that none would hear you even were you to scream.
Such a situation might be dangerous for you, if you were to be attacked. The Security you have put in place means that any who enter this building would need to be a master of Unarmed Combat and infiltration. Only one of the former exists within this location, and he is a pushover who would even serve you unfalteringly.
You frown, adjust your sunglasses, and state to no one that any human can see:
"We need to talk. Now."
And that is where I finally enter.
The attack slugs and antoids hidden behind the various ornaments, chairs, and other accessories of the room reveal themselves. My terminals, in this instance. My eyes and ears, and in such numbers with a degree of exertion, able to carry my voice.
"I assume you wish to discuss the incident with the Traitor?"
"You said that they were going to be taken care of." You hold yourself back from shaking, either from fear of from rage. "What part of this looks like a quiet assassination?!"
There is no excuse to be given. Even if deception were an option, it's use here to give an illusion of greater strength would be ill used in dealing with the issue.
"None. Jaeger has not reported in since that night. Given they resorted to an Omega level attack, it can be assumed that there was an unexpected element. Until we can determine Jaegers status, it would be best to assume that he has been Killed in Action."
"You mean to tell me that your Tin-Can getting killed by someone that powerful in my town is meant to put me at ease?!"
"Jaeger was a specialised unit, focused on attacks that might ignore the defenses of one such as Bzz Bzz, in addition to the usual enhancements that Starman units receive. It is plausible that this unexpected element was merely well suited to take advantage of the situation. Jaegers psychological evaluations showed a desire to make up for their failures in the previous conflict, for example."
"You promised me that there wouldn't be any trou-"
Someone screams, only to try to stifle it soon afterwards. You and I both immediately turn towards the door, to see a human male in one of your office-workers attire.
Hypnosis is applied immediately, but this human seems to have more resistance than expected. Perhaps possessing latent PSI ability, or having unknowingly awakened it. Has the Traitor gone even so far as to spread such secrets?!
…No. Not to someone this pathetic, cowering at your feet. This is merely poor chance, that is all.
The eavesdropper attempts to speak, in spite of his warbling vocal chords. "I… I just… I came to g-get my noteboo-"
"Emmanuel was it?" You step in, voice shifting to a calm composure that is utterly fine with the situation. It throws the human off, the panic they'd expect to see in you not present. And since you are not panicking then this situation, strange as it is, must somehow be fine.
"I suppose I'd have to break the news eventually. Come inside"
The whelps eyes shift over the array of my spawn, clearly uncomfortable at their presence.
"They won't touch you, kid. You have my word on that."
You have no power over them, but this seems to satisfy his fear enough that he tentatively steps inside. You shut the door behind you with an unhurried click.
"What are they?!" he whispers, tension evident in his tone.
"My new… business associates shall we say, aren't exactly from Princeps, see."
"But you mean…They're aliens!"
The look of disappointment on your face almost appears genuine. "Emmanuel… I thought that you were better than this."
"…Wha-?"
"Come on now. The universe is a big place – you really think every alien lifeform out there is going to be like the Invaders?" you sigh. "These guys are only here to deal with one of their own. A traitor, someone dangerous. Only reason I haven't said anything is because I don't want people to jump to conclusions"
You manage to weave a dash of truth into a litre of lies, and it manages to persuade your fool of a worker into questioning his stance – if only because he suddenly wonders if he is truly a 'good person'.
"Of course, there's also the fact that they're willing to pay. A bunch of extraterrestrial tech in exchange for the life of their backstabber. Something that can really help to put Onett – hell, maybe Eagle Qaurter on the map. Maybe even be able to get the Big Three to actually respect us for once. Think about it, kid. Imagine what we could do with that kind of backing!"
The man ceases to pay attention for a moment, swayed by your words, lost in thought. The thoughts in his mind, though vague and hard to discern due to his resistance, seem to dance with promises of power and riches. It is no doubt greed and personal gain that dance through his mind before the bullet does.
You retch, as though you haven't just taken advantage of the young mans trust in you in order to execute him with impunity. You throw the silenced pistol out of your hand as if it burns you, the act of actually committing violence somehow more repugnant than all of your behaviour thus far.
For a minute, then two, then five, you simply heave, trying to convince yourself that your actions haven't truly happened. Trying to figure out how to deal with this and return to your eternal grifting of a mayoral position.
"I'll get a bunch of cleaners in tomorrow." You declare, voice raspy from having to stop yourself from vomiting. "The kind who don't ask questions. Hit em with your weird Psych-power or whatever it is."
"And the issue with the Traitor?"
"I'll find a way." You snarl, "However strong this ally of theirs is, I've got Strong in my pocket and the entire damn OPF. Every damn person of repute listens to me, and only those Snot-nosed Sharks and that Wily-Wannabe come close to actually trying to defy me. This is my town. You just keep your end of our bargain, you oversized termite."
As one, the Slugs and Antoids nod – or attempt to – in acknowledgement. You assume that this means I consider you an equal – or more likely, a particularly hard to replace underling. That I am so bound by Giygas' edict to engage in secret that your position is vital enough to be respected.
You do not know the truth.
I cannot stand being in the same room as you, you bloated, disgusting filth.
You, Pirkle, are the truest form of humanity. You lack any virtues, and even those far more evil than you at the very least show ambition – a sense of purpose, of drive! But you… you are merely a snivelling, porcine stain upon the universe, willing to sell out your own kin and people in the faint belief that you might profit. You show your species as it truly is, with all it's delusions of righteousness stripped from it.!
You, alone, are proof enough justify the slaughter of your entire kind down to the last, mewling, helpless infant! The call for your extermination would be a horror were it any other form of life, but seeing you, I know full well that seeing their mutilated corpses will fill me with the reassurance that those such as you have been prevented from sullying existence itself!
And you? You shall help me. Aid me. You shall scrape and simper, wheedle and plead. You will sentence your species to extinction, and never even consider that I am merely saving you for last that I might savour it.
My spawn shall flay the skin from your still living flesh. They shall lay their eggs within your eyes and wait for them to hatch. With Lifeup, we shall give you life enough to prolong your torment. Your throat, of course, shall be saved for last, that I might relish in your screams.
So smile, you worthless sack of excrement, at the belief that you might go on without 'getting into any trouble'.
I promise you – your eventual fate will be no trouble at all.
Gah, but this update has felt like work instead of Fun.
Been wanting to write something like this All Janurary. Initially, it was meant to purely focus on Emmanuel and have an expanded verison of the eavesdropping, attempt to talk him round, and then subsequent 'early retirement' by Pirkle, but that just never clicked in any way. Guy was too much white bread- bland and uninteresting. I tried to make him into a petty selfish little person, but not one who deserved his fate, but just... couldn't quite get the mindset.
So I made this instead something going over Pirkles Day. In some ways it was easier, going through section by section, trying to make him simultaneously a huge extravagant POS whilst also not even having the decency to stick with it. Just real slime. That was kind of fun to write. As was trying to do the thing of writing a first person story mildly disguised as a second person one, though I think I went too heavy with Titanic Ants real disdain bleeding through.
As for Titanic ant, if you come away thinking maybe they have a point, I have utterly failed in writing this. TA is written as using the actions of a single man to justify indulging in the genocide of countless people. I don't think I managed to get that across enough personally, though I tried to showcase how they see all humans, not just Pirkle, as beneath them. Pirkle is just the excuse they give themselves to feel morally righteous and let themselves enjoy it.
There's a lot I'd consider rewriting about this, but this was increasingly fighting me, and honestly, I think I'm even only going to add Colours and stuff in later. I've got work tomorrow and I'd like to actually rest for the evening dangit.
Might try to do another JSR interlude, whilst keeping it short. Stuff that's happened in quest has given me something to work with I think.
Life in the Outlands has never been known for its ease. While the living standards were harsh on the first generation of settlers, the situation only degraded after the City of Light was founded. As the City grew and rotted into a capitalist nightmare, the Outlands regressed into a feudalistic society. Here emerged kingdoms ruled by royalty, warlords, or in some cases, pirates.
Canon fire howled through the air. Those same shots failed to hit their mark, just barely, creating great splashes that soaked the opposing crew. The return fire was swift, yet lesser. Gunpowder was running low from previous raids. Captain Blackeye was getting deeply annoyed.
The Mudplugger was harried by a most ridiculous assailant. The enemy ship was oddly designed for one, as if someone had stolen part of a tea set and built a ship around it. The crew was odd for different reasons, namely that it was nearly entirely composed of uplifts. Moles and wolves ran across the deck. Pelicans, ducks, and penguins worked on the mast. And, if his eyes (er, eye) didn't deceive him, there were honest-to-god Kremlings working with apes. "Just me luck," the captain grumbled, "ta run afoul a rival n' ruin me good mood."
From aboard the SS Tea Cup a tall, well-endowed brunette hollered orders, her long hair and yellow bandana fluttered in the breeze. "Hold fast men, an' keep firing! The Mudplugger won't kite herself!" Captain Syrup, leader of the Black Sugar Pirates (formerly the Black Sugar Gang), gave commands. "All able-bodied flyers, excluding my first mate, are to flank from the bow and stern. Pick 'em' off as best you can, but don't get greedy, the real fight begins when we board Blackeye." At her command, various pelicans, bats, and roosters took to the skies.
"Helmsman!" A kremling stood at attention, "We approach them from the bow, starboard side."
"YES MAM!"
"Bobo!" A large, avian uplift with a skull and crossbones tattooed on his belly swooped down from the crow's nest. "When we get close enough, please drop off our newest recruit. Afterwards, be ready to airlift our heavier members."
"Aye, aye, captain!" Bobo swiftly returned to his roost in anticipation.
Soon enough, the bloodbath began. Were Blackeye's crew not already worn down from previous raids, perhaps it wouldn't have been so one-sided. Nevertheless, it was. A duck ran a man through the stomach with a cutlass. A young boy dogged under a pistol shot and cleaved his attacker's leg off. Pelicans and bats were shot and fell. Another man was squashed beneath a falling ape, leaving him little more than a stain on the deck. Captain Syrup cut down her fair share that day, cleaving more than one head from someone's shoulders.
In the end, a full two-thirds of the Mudplugger's crew was slain. Of the remaining third, half were sustaining major wounds. Needless to say, Captain Blackeye was furious. "Da' ell I'd ever do ta' ye?!" the bound captain yelled, the remainder of his crew tied up along with him. "Fer as I know, I never did ye o' personal wrong!" From the other side of the room, Syrup was rummaging through her 'newly acquired' charts and maps. Large ducks in pirate getups and goggles kept watch over the prisoners as she did.
Minutes passed in silence, the captives were on edge. Wondering what was wrong. Suddenly, "You're right Blackbeard,"
"Blackeye."
"you have never wronged me." Before any response could be given, she continued. "My business associate and crew, however," a chill ran through Blackeye, "have."
"Five months ago, you and your crew raided a shipment of fresh timber en route from Gallowmere to the City."
"Ay, so, wot o' it? Me ship ain't goin ta-"
"That shipment was for Nook Homes."
The silence spoke for itself.
"As were the shipments of bricks, marble, and limestone you hit some months before. Nook did not appreciate the ensuing delays nor the expenses you caused him Blackleg. So," Syrup turned in her chair to face the ruffians, "he called me."
"Heh, first, it be Blackeye. Second, dat it? Didn't take ye ta be da type ta sell out."
"I'm not-"
"Da great Capin' Syrup gave er' freedom an' soul ta make it big!" It was impressive how loud Blackeye could get. "Was wonderin' how ye got kremilngs ta join up. Seems like dey just can't resist dem company-sponsored pirates! So, ye got da power ye wanted," he sneered "but ye didn't earn it. Was it worth it? Bein' like K. Rool? Ta surrender all ye integrity just so-"
"Are you done?"
Captain Blackeye's mind finally caught up and reminded him just what his predicament was. Syrup had not changed her expression save for a lifted eyebrow. As the cutlass at his throat reminded him of his place, she continued.
"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, you, Blackbear,"
"It's Blackeye."
"raided quite a few shipments of my business associate and slaughtered the sailors of each, nearly to the man." The Tea Cup's captain gave Blackeye a cold stare.
"Heh, so?" he countered, "Ye can't really be da judge o' dat, can ye? We all be pirates er' wat with all de pillagin an' burnin-"
"Plundering."
"Eh?"
"I plunder, not pillage."
"Wat's de difference?" the captain asked, genuinely curious.
"Plundering," Syrup started, "is slipping past defenses, catching your target with their pants down. Delving into ancient ruins, using every trick you know, inventing new ones on the fly, to make off with the riches before your rival even knows you're there. Playing monsters against each other just to get by off their table scraps. It's, above all else," her voice reached a fever pitch, "thriving in a profession where damn near everyone is your physical superior using nothing but your wits and what few strengths you possess."
As Captain Syrup caught her breath, Blackeye and his men couldn't help but look at one another in concern, their waterfowl guards barely holding back their tears.
Having composed herself, she went on, "Pillaging, by contrast, is the sacking of villages, those with no defenses and little of worth. Leaving nothing but burnt-out craters in your wake. A pastime you love Pinkeye."
"Blackeye."
"A pastime that has finally come back to bite you."
"Wat do ye mean by-"
"It's easier to show you. How would you like to meet our newest recruit?"
"Ey! Hold on jus' a min-," Captain Blackeye floundered at the sudden shift in tone.
The door creaked on its hinges. Into the room walked a boy, teen really, with orange-brown hair. His eyes were cold and calm, yet the slight tremble of his hands betrayed him. Blackeye knew him well, a thorn in the captain's side ever since he paid a 'visit' to the boy's village a year and a half ago. One the captain thought he rid himself of six months ago. One that knew the ins and outs of Blackeye's crew better than most.
"Please, say hello to Edson." Syrup's singsong tone did nothing to calm their nerves, "As a reward for being such a big help, he will decide your fates."
AN: So this came to me after reading weredrago2's Star Wolf omake. More specifically the pirate comment. I realized that there was a criminal lack of traditional pirates in 8BD, despite it being one of the more popular video game settings.
As for why Black Sugar Pirates and Nook Homes sometimes work together? Partly because Captain Syrup believes in the uplift movement (have you seen her crew?), partly to help each other out. Both are rather small time in comparison to their competition. Nook needs a major contact in the Outlands, same with Syrup and the City (no, Dunk doesn't count, he's a basketball player).
Aside from the kremlings, all other animals were mooks in Wario Land 1 & 2. The kremlings that work for Syrup are deserters from K. Rool's crew on account of how he treats them and how little they're paid.
Edson is the original protagonist of Project Dream before he was replaced by Banjo. Blackeye was the original antagonist of that game before he was reduced to a cameo.
Small and weak things hide in the brush and crawl under stones. Small are weak, scared, run from big things.
Big things hunt and kill small things. The small ones never fight, just run and hide. The Big things are too big, too strong. Predators.
Pogo's tribe was Small. Not Big.
The cave they lived in, hidden in tiny corner of the valley, where more Small things than Big things
Pogo… sad. His tribe was small. They lived in valley cave because it safe. hiding. His tribe too Small to face Zuu tribe. His tribe give up Beru, no fight.
Cowards.
So Pogo left. To hunt, to fight, to save Beru.
Not that he could, right now.
Pogo howled at the roof of the cave, trying desperately to climb up the pit he had fallen in, bare hands scratching at loose chunks of rock.
He only managed a short distance before he lost his grip, falling back into the muck at the bottom.
A frustrated growl broke out from his throat, only to be drowned out by another, deeper sound.
When Pogo turned around there was a beast with dark green scales. It was long and flat, with four legs just barely long enough to lift it off the ground, a broad tail, and a long mouth filled with sharp teeth.
Pogo gripped his club, raising it and getting ready to fight.
Three more crawled out of the muck.
Pogo felt very, very Small.
With a shout he brought the club down on the nearest beast's head. It fell back into the muck, eyes rolled back, but the other 3 immediately snapped at him.
He backed away, standing against the wall of the cave and trying to climb out of reach.
The beasts snapped and bit at his heels, driving him further and further up-
He slipped.
Pogo screamed as he fell towards the beast's open maw-
Something landed on the beast's head, smashing its mouth shut. A whirling mass of fists and feet tore through the muck.
By the time Pogo hit the ground, every beast was knocked flat, dead, or dazed. Pogo looked up at his savior-
Oh.
Ohhhh!
It was a woman, but she was nothing like Beru. Beru was soft, smooth, gentle. She wore only shells and grass.
This woman was tall, strong, clawed hands dripping blood. Her smile showed fangs, skin rough and scarred. She wore light blue animal fur, complete with tail.
"Why you here?"
Pogo startled, staring openly at the woman. She could speak?
She walked forward and cracked him across the head with her bare hands. "No staring! Ayla taken!"
Pogo sat up, blinking away bright lights. Before he could recover the
Ayla scooped Pogo up, completely ignoring his daze. With practiced ease she danced through the muck, jumping over beasts, kicking a few when they got too close.
She easily reached the other side, walking through several chambers before exiting the cave as a whole.
She unceremoniously dumped Pogo on the ground once they reached safety. "Why you here?" She asked again.
Pogo couldn't speak. How could he-?
He saw the Kuu tribe's home. Distant but in sight.
Pogo pointed at himself, picked up a stone, and hugged it to his chest. Then he pointed at the Kuu tribe and mimed snatching the stone away. Then he growled and raised his club.
"Tribe took precious from you? You try to get back?" Ayla asked
Pogo nodded frantically.
Ayla grinned viciously, hands curling into claws. "Ayla help!" The fight is quick and vicious.
Pogo punches a Kuu tribesman into a wall, clubs another over the head. Ayla has no weapon, but every punch sends another flying.
They reach the shrine easily.
The shrine is a wooden platform dangling over a cliff. A long wooden pole carved from a tree sits in the middle, with Beru tied to it with grass fibers.
Pogo spotted Zaki and the Kuu chief standing near Beru. With a shout, he charged forward.
Before Pogo and Zaki can fight, the sound of cracking wood interrupts everyone. The shrine starts to tilt to the side, before breaking in half and sending the combatants over the cliffside..
For the second time today, Pogo peeled himself off the ground after falling from a great height.
He immediately scrambled for Beru, finding her still tied up. Thankfully the pole had snapped from the fall, and getting her out was as simple as sliding the rope to the broken edge.
As soon as she was free, Beru hugged Pogo tight.
"Your Mate?" Ayla asked, walking over to the two reuniting.
Beru nodded yes as Pogo shook his head no.
Beru stomped on his foot.
Pogo nodded yes.
A deep, echoing roar drew everyone's attention. At the other end of the pit, a massive creature was moving.
It had a huge head, with a maw full of teeth, two powerful legs, and two much less powerful arms. The whole beast was covered in scales
"Reptite!" Ayla shouted, immediately raising her fists.
The Kuu chieftain runs towards the beast, yelling and chanting at the creature that was his god.
The Reptite leaned down and ate him in a single bite.
Zaki quivered, mouth agape with fear as the beast stepped forward, growling and barking it's fangs
"Ayla Reptite hunter! No fear!" Ayla stands tall, even as the gargantuan Reptite towers over her.
Beru clenched her fist, picking up a piece of the shrine to use as a weapon. Even Zaki rallied and picked up his spear.
Pogo turned to face the massive creature, raised his club, and bellowed a war cry.
"GAOOOO!"
Writing for a pair of Cave People is really, really hard. I kept writing sentences and then saying "No that's too eloquent." So I had to repeatedly tear it apart and make it more caveman-like.
Highwind: Those utter bastards! Those lazy, good-for-nothing, money-grubbing execs!
Pollendina: Calm down, it isn't that bad.
Highwind: The fuck it isn't?! All it took was one failed launch and those bastards pulled the plug on the entire space program!
Marguez: You're been awfully loud for someone in a text chat.
Kramer: I concur. This is like reading an argument between my students.
Highwind: Bite me! My dream is ruined! I'll never get to pilot a spaceship, I'll never be an astronaut!
Fabool IX: I'm sorry for your loss Highwind. Is there no way for you to move somewhere else and attempt your dream again?
Highwind: No. The Shinra Severance package is a quiet life in bumfuck nowhere and a guard at your door, or a bullet in the brain. I'm sure I could dodge those footsoldier chucklefucks but Turks and SOLDIERs would be an issue.
Pollendina: My offer still stands. You're a hell of an engineer, the Red Wings could use a guy like you. Plus I can introduce you to Kain. He's a bit broody, but he has your last name. He's a dragoon too!
Fabool IX: Same with me. I'd love to pick your brain about airships. I understand the Tiny Bronco is just a personal vessel for you, but I find it fascinating how such a small ship has that level of maneuverability.
Highwind: Thanks for the offers, but I'm hanging tough for now. Maybe I'm just overreacting. The rocket is complete, it's just listing a bit. It wouldn't even take that much effort to fix it up for another launch.
Marguez: I'm curious, how did the launch fail exactly? You said there were no mechanical failures right?
Highwind: It's a hell of a story. So, this no-good scientist is fiddling with my damn oxygen stores right before the rocket is set to launch! We can't wait, we can't abort the launch or it'll be set back for months! But if the rocket does launch, that little lady gets burnt to a crisp!
Marguez: You aborted it.
Highwind: I did.
Kramer: That's a very good thing you did Highwind.
Highwind: Fuck off Kramer.
Pollendina: You're a crass prick Highwind, but you're a good man.
Highwind: Thanks.
Kramer: How come you're so nice to Pollendina?
Highwind: Because you're a creepy fuck who trains child soldiers. If it were up to me I'd kick your ass out of the Cid Clan in a heartbeat. Well, that and your crazy-ass airship castle.
Marguez: You know the rules Highwind, the vote has to be unanimous.
Highwind: Yeah yeah…
Fabool IX: This has been a downer so far. How about we focus on something more positive?
Pollendina: Cecil and Rosa are getting married! <3 I'm so proud of them! Cecil proposed right after becoming a Dark Knight
Fabool IX: Ah young love…
Marguez: It's somewhat strange seeing you use an emoji.
Highwind: Did you give Cecil the "If you hurt her" speech?
Pollendina: I reminded him that I'm the lead engineer for the Red Wings. I could put a bomb in the engine room of his airship and he would never know
Highwind: Damn. I'm impressed.
Pollendina: Cecil's a good lad, there's basically no chance I'll have to enact that threat, but I needed to give him one. Just in case.
Kramer: That's an awful lot of protective instinct for someone who isn't even your daughter isn't it?
Highwind: You wouldn't know protective instinct if it reared up to bite you.
Marguez: Highwind, calm down or you're getting timed out. Kramer, why don't you tell us what you've been working on?
Kramer: Thank you Marguez. We're starting to figure out the whole "guardian forces" thing we've been working on. Basically taking entities from the Dreamlands and putting them to work.
Marguez: Huh. We've been working on something similar in the Empire actually.
Kramer: Interesting! We'll have to compare notes. Anyway, as it turns out having teenagers contact Dreamland entities runs the risk of mental corruption, memory loss, and insanity. I'm told the kids will make a full recovery, and we're working on a way to make the process safe. We're just not there yet.
Highwind: WHAT THE FLYINGFUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU KRAMER?!
-Highwind has been timed out for 5 minutes-
Marguez: I warned you Highwind. That said I share some of his concerns Kramer. This feels like a scenario of short-term gains and long-term losses. If the guardian forces make them stronger but result in severe mental degradation, can you honestly say they'll make effective soldiers? Pollendina:Cecil became a Dark Knight all on his own merits. The use of Guardian Forces seems… risky.
Kramer: Like I said, we're working on it right now. It's a work in progress, and there are plenty of kinks to work out, but it's got so much potential. You said you were working on something too Marguez, what's your project like?
Marguez: It's somewhat similar actually. We're dealing with Espers, some people call them Aeons or Summons.
Pollendina: Oh! We have a nearby village with summoners in it! Or at least there are rumors about it. It's called Mist, and hidden in the well. You know.
Fabool IX: I believe our neighboring kingdom's princess have a similar ability.
Marguez: To put it simply. Performing magic requires a lot of study and training or for some sort of relationship with a magical entity. Our goal is to create a way to easily create a connection with a magical entity, enabling the use of magic without extensive training.
Kramer: That is similar to the Guardian Force project.
Marguez: Yes, but the difference is we're attempting to prevent the entity from enacting influence on the person using them. Ergo, we force the creature to submit before its power is granted. Killing them and using their body parts, or taking samples is much more effective, and it prevents any backlash from affecting the user.
Highwind: Again, that's pretty fucked up.
Kramer: Oh. You're back.
Marguez: Is Materia any different? You're killing the planet and draining it for energy and magic.
Highwind: The difference is we don't literally suck the life out of a creature to do it.
Marguez: Yes I'm sure the gradually expanding ring of decay around Midgard is perfectly safe for life. What, are you going to champion the rights of Espers? They aren't even really living creatures. They're beings of magic.
Highwind: I'm tired of dealing with you shits. Let's just finish the meeting. Did anything interesting recently Fabool?
Fabool IX: I'd love to say I had some sort of project going on but, the truth is the wife and I have been on the rocks for a bit. She was angry that I spent so much time working on my personal airship, I decided to take some time off and be with her.
Highwind: Fair enough. Hard to live with a harpy chirping in your ear ain't it?
Fabool IX: How would you know? You aren't married.
Highwind: Nah, but Shera, that's the scientist who ruined my launch by the way, moved in with me. She's been doing chores and shit trying to earn my forgiveness.
Fabool IX: If only my wife would try to earn my forgiveness…
Marguez: She'd have to do something wrong first.
Pollendina: Does anyone else have anything they need to say?
Fabool IX: No, I'd best get going. My wife's forgiveness will not come easy.
Highwind: I need tea and a smoke.
Marguez: I believe this meeting is over. Goodbye, my fellow Cids, and good luck with your endeavors.
Highwind: Piss off Marguez.
-Highwind has been timed out for 5 minutes.
Marguez: You're lucky that you're such a good Cid, or I'd have kicked you out long ago.
Kramer: I agree. I don't understand why he hates me so much
Pollendina: Remember, the vote has to be unanimous. I like Highwind too much to get rid of him.
Marguez: True. Perhaps I'll never be rid of you Highwind. But at least I have the power to shut you up for a little bit.
This one was basically just for fun. Final Fantasy and its many Cids are a great source of comedy and fun, and the first set of 9 are all perfectly within reach of the 8-Bit Dystopia setting. Although I would guess almost all of them are in the Outlands instead of in The City. What with all the fantasy in their worlds. Though most of them dabble in high technology and Sci Fi as well.
Don't ask me how they have a text chat with one another.
For your Cid Guide. Cid Pollendina is the Cid from Final Fantasy 4. Cid Del Norte Marguez is the Cid from Final Fantasy 6. Cid Highwind is the Cid from Final Fantasy 7. Cid Kramer is the Cid from Final Fantasy 8. Finally, Cid Fabool IX is from Final Fantasy 9
The grey fuzziness that Fou-Lu has slept in for many years slowly lifted, awareness coming to the slumbering dragon bit by bit. He felt a slight tug as if something were calling him forth-
He has finally awoken… the final fragment of the Yorae dragon.
A massive pillar of light burst from his body, the raw power of his divinity spilling forth as the dragon emperor awakened.
As quickly as it first appeared, the light faded as it all condensed into the form of a man. Outside of his white hair and the horns on his head, Fou-Lu could be mistaken for a perfectly normal man.
Fou-Lu slowly stood up, feeling a rush of blood as he stood for the first time in many years. His condition was as flawless as ever, of course, one of the perks of divinity. But having spent so long with a mere fraction of his power he felt…
Diminished.
"My Liege." A deep rumbling voice caught Fou-Lu's attention, his faithful guardian bowing his head in reverence. "I take it that the final fraction of you has awakened?"
A black-furred cross between a lion and a dog, immortal much like himself, Won-qu was one of the few beings Fou-Lu would confess affection for.
"Won-qu." Fou-Lu greeted, as the guardian sat before him. "Yes, the time has come to find mine other fragments. Reclaim the title of Yorae dragon."
"Of course my liege. However… where are the courtiers? The priests? Why has no single voice been raised in honor of thy return?" The guardian seemed upset, looking left and right as if expecting a royal recession to appear to greet them.
"Tis not of import. They are mortals. An eternity it would take to fathom their foolishness. They are fickle and forgetful creatures Won-qui, perhaps they have forgotten me."
The guardian growled, "Foolish indeed my lord."
"A more important matter guides our attention. That presence… distant and yet to fully awaken, but unmistakable. The final piece of our divinity…" Fou-Lu closed his eyes, letting his senses expand.
All around him, he could feel pieces, the tiny fragments of his true form scattered to the winds. He slept until all the fragments were found, awakened. To avoid wasting time, and to reach completion sooner. The largest slumbering piece was finally awake, ready for him to begin repairing his divine being…
"Won-qi! Guard our place of rest. When we return, we shall be whole." Fou-Lu exited his tomb, preparing to walk down the pyramid-like steps.
"As you wish sire but, where art thou going?"
"To the capital. We shall reunite at the appointed place, as it was written."
Something was following him.
Fou-Lu considered ignoring the presence, but rather than fade it drew closer instead. "Are you truly that foolish?"
Fou-Lu turned to see a beast far larger than himself. It looked like a perversion of a dragon, with two huge stocky legs, and a massive maw full of jagged teeth, it lacked wings or proper forelimbs. Nothing more than a Wyrm.
"... Thou are not a true fragment of the Yorae dragon. Merely influenced by our presence." Fou-Lu said dismissively. "Begone or be silenced."
The Wyrm seemed to disagree, roaring as it lunged to bite him in half.
How cute.
A shining blade appeared in Fou-Lu's hands, cutting effortlessly through scale and sinew as he lightly flicked the blade. One slash ripped open its mouth, severing its jaw.
The second took off its head.
Fou-Lu sighed before pressing onwards. Perhaps it was a representation of his divinity? The irresistible draw of an Endless? He would not be hurt by such a trifling creature, but to battle his way through the world would be… distasteful.
"Did you hear those roars?" A distant voice caught his attention.
"Yeah, don't worry about it. We're here to kill a dragon, little thing like that won't hurt us at all."
"Thou intent to kill a dragon?"
It was amusing, watching the mortals snap to attention, lowering their spears to point at him. After a moment they raised them again, having deemed him not a threat.
"What are you doing in these woods, they're dangerous!"
"A mere bit of sightseeing." Fou-Lu smiled slightly, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. As if such a thing would stop him.
"Well go see the sights somewhere else! Rumor has it a demonic dragon is to awaken tonight, and we're gonna kill it."
"So we were correct. Thou intend to kill a dragon." His smile spread wider, divine power gathering in his palm. "Hast thou ever seen a dragon?"
A shape emerged behind the man, a smooth-scaled head emerging from a hole that seemed to open mid-air. With the grace of an agile bird, the dragon rose effortlessly from the tear in space, spreading its beautiful multicolored wings and letting loose a roar.
"A dragon… A God unfurls thy wings and the world follows. Tide, earth, wind, and flame bow to Us. Wouldst thou fight a God?"
The soldier fumbled with a small black cube, holding it up to his mouth and yelling "We found the demon dragon! Repeat, we found-!"
The dragon opened its mouth, expelling a stream of vibrant blue flames that exploded the instant they touched the ground.
All that was left of the soldiers was a smoldering crater.
"Tis as I thought, it is not the nature of mortals to change," Fou-Lu said dismissively, stalking past the crater without a second glance.
He had only traveled a short distance when another strange feeling greeted him. A field of darkness covered his path, one crafted from magic no doubt.
"Show yourself. We have no patience for japes." Fou-Lu commanded, lightly waving his hand
The darkness quickly fled, revealing an old man with a slight build and a face as wrinkled as a prune. "Pardon my presumption… you are the God Emperor, Fou-Lu are you not? I have been expecting you since I saw the flames from where my guards were posted, and the pillar of light from your tomb."
"Thou sayst thou wast waiting for us? Thou knowst of us, and what we are?" Fou-Lu asked
"Yes, Your Majesty. Fou-Lu, the first lord of our budding empire." The old man said.
"Hmph…" Fou-Lu cast a wave of energy with the wave of his hand, one which crashed against the old man's hasty barrier and caused the earth to tremble.
"Why approach us with malice in thine heart, a blade in thine hand?" Fou-Lu asked, lowering his hand as the old man regained his footing.
"I'm afraid times have changed my lord." The man clapped his hands together "Ifrit! Esper of Fire, heed my call!"
A massive muscular arm emerged from the earth, punching through the rock and gripping the earth as a humanoid monster crawled out. Wreathed in fire, with huge horns, sharp nails, and a bestial stance.
"How pathetic… summoning a creature to do thy bidding." Fou-Lu summoned his blade again and slashed, only to blink in shock at the shallow cut in his target.
Ifrit howled and smashed both fists on the ground, nearly flattening Fou-Lu as he dodged back, then landed a vicious forward punch, sending the emperor flying back.
Despite the heavy hit, Fou-Lu landed on his feet, looking more scuffed than injured. He huffed in annoyance as a bright light engulfed him, briefly obscuring him in a pillar of light.
"We must commend thou, thine efforts have forced us to reveal a further fraction of our power." Fou-Lu's smile radiated cocksure smugness. Dark blue scales covered his entire lower body and back, clawed hands, three-toed feet, and two slender wings adorning his otherwise humanoid body.
Ifrit threw itself forward, only to crash into Fou-Lu's vicious elbow strike. The djinn fought valiantly, but the merciless blows of the half-dragon sent them reeling, time and time again.
Ifrit roared again, briefly driving Fou-Lu back with a ball of fire from its mouth. The djinn seemed to perk up as it noticed Fou-Lu dodge spell after spell. The punches and kicks seemed to do little, but the fire...
"Ifrit! Hellfire!" The old man commanded. A massive column of flame absorbed Ifrit as it began to cast hellfire. Fou-Lu dashed back, floating above the ground as he stared into the rising inferno.
"To waste this much effort on a mortal's pet!" Fou-Lu grit his teeth before raising his hands. This time a cocoon briefly appeared around him, a black barricade with magic sigils scrawled on every corner.
When the Emperor emerged he was a full-bodied true dragon, with white scales and translucent red wings. The dragon silently opened its mouth, and fired forth a beam of pure destruction.
Once again all that was left of his prey was a mere crater. But this time something was wrong.
The dragon dropped gracelessly to its feet, stumbling as it touched the ground and morphed back into a man. "Why-?"
"You appear tired, my lord." The old man emerged from the darkness again, standing in the emperor's path. "To be expected I suppose, you have only just awoken from a long slumber, and you aren't exactly complete are you?"
"Thou dost not intend to fulfill thy promise. As was commanded by our pact." Fou-Lu said, forcing himself to stand tall.
"I'm afraid it is as you say, my lord. As is, we would have you sleep once more." The old man waved his hand, calling forth several soldiers. Including one riding a machine, bipedal with large claw-like hands.
Fou-Lu chuckled "We would call thee foolish, but thou are merely a mortal. Thou cannot go against thy nature. Still, thou will find our promise is not so easily broken."
Without warning, Fou-Lu jumped, nearly clearing the trees as he landed on the crest of a nearby hill. "Tell thy master our words!"
"Trying to escape, Majesty?"The old man turned to the soldiers. "Set fire to the trees, we cannot allow him to recover his strength!"
The soldiers nodded, some pulling out bows while others found arrows dipped in pitch and lit them. The soldier in the machine merely grinned, stepping forward and firing a beam of fire from the center of the machine's chest.
Within minutes, Fou-Lu was trapped in a hellish forest fire, sweat dripping down his face as he dashed through the trees. He briefly had to double back as a flaming trunk crashed down in his path, setting a barrier of fire.
"They would use fire against us? Well planned indeed." He could not help but admire their cleverness, even as it was turned against him. He managed to find a break in the trees and emerge to a rope bridge over a river-
And the old man was waiting for him, flanked by two soldiers and the machine-riding soldier.
"Your Majesty has a strong affinity to water, yes? And with your powers still weakened, I doubt you could survive a battle against my summon in the fire."
"... We woust… know thy name, cunning one." Fou-Lu huffed, feeling his power wane.
"Yohm, general of the Imperial army. At your service." Yohm bowed his head politely, before calling again "Kahm!"
A massive flaming fist emerged from a portal in front of Yohm, smashing Fou-Lu through the bridge and sending him plummeting into the river below.
"... How foolish of me, to allow him to reach the water." Yohm ruminated, looking at the dark waters below the bridge. He turned to his soldiers. " Send some scouts downriver, find the body."
"Miss Tiki, why are you crying?"
The green-haired girl looked up, still trying to wipe away the tears. "I… I don't know. It feels like… someone's hurting."
"Are you hurt?" The elderly man leaned over, looking for any scrapes or injuries on his young charge.
"No, but… I think someone else is." The young divine dragon fiddled with her dragonstone, rolling it between her fingers. "I wish… I want to help them. Even though I don't know who they are."
"Tiki, you know why we can't do that." Bantu gently explained. "Without the binding shield-"
"I know," Tiki whined. How much was her life defined by that shield? Without it, she would decay, and fall into madness like the others. The only reason she hadn't already was because she restrained her powers and slept.
Speaking of sleep...
"It's time for me to go to sleep again, isn't it?" She asked sadly.
"I'm afraid so." Bantu was apologetic, but firm. "If you'd like I could tell you a story to ease you to sleep."
"Go ahead Ban-Ban." Tiki leaned back and settled herself under the covers. She tried to listen to the story, she really did! But the whole time that Bantu was talking…
She couldn't shake the image of a white-haired man, flickering in her mind's eye.
I love Breath of Fire, you guys. It's so good! The game is really good, the manga is really good, admittedly the manga is a better story because it isn't broken up by a half hour of fishing, riding floating snails, managing a fairy village, and other such japes. But they both have their charms.
Screw Fou-Lu's Ye Olde Butchered English though. It was really hard to write.
This is setup for another little series I've got planned. About Fou-Lu and the fragments of the Yorae dragon. I have a pretty good idea of what I'm doing on the good guy side of things, getting some Fire Emblem and Final Fantasy characters involved to play around with. But on the bad guy side of things I was struggling. See, the enemy of BoF 4 is the Fou-Lu Empire, started by Fou-Lu and then corrupted as he slept. But a lot of evil empires don't really lend themselves to being grafted together. That said, I'm thinking of folding it with Final Fantasy 6's empire. Since the emperor (not Fou-Lu the other one) is relatively irrelevant in both. Also both empires look their their watches and say "Oh would you look at the time, it's Warcrime O'clock!"
On the dragon side of things, I like the idea that Fou-Lu and the fracturing of the Yorae dragon basically "seeded" dragons in the outlands. Like, the original pieces were all powerful and divine and stuff but as they died out and had children the draconic power spread further, and in the time Fou-Lu has been sleeping it led to the Manaketes of Fire Emblem (who's whole "going insane" problem is due to their mixed divine and mortal blood being bad for them, hence why they seal it in dragonstones.) and the Brood of BoF 3. (who got genocided, but their power is still out there, sealed in divine crystals which are eternal even as their bodies rot)
A constant stream of vitriol filled curses leave your mouth as you smash and swing your bat against everything around you.
Breaking saplings in half, tearing up bushes by the roots, and breaking the branches off the larger trees with your bare hands.
As you scream your lungs out and flail through the darkness, your mind pulls you back to everyone who ever wronged you.
All the wizened old women who rudely screeched at you to get out of their yards when collecting balls.
Every degrading moment you were stuck sitting in the principal's office listening to infirm, powerless old men talk to you about your doomed future.
The countless looks you got from the other kids in town. All the small slights, the inane whispers and murmurs behind your back, the simple lack of empath.
The sheer and utter loneliness.
In the dark you imagine smashing their knees with your bat.
Grabbing their heads and pushing your thumbs through their eyes.
Squeezing their windpipes shut and seeing the looks of regret on their face as they suffocate in your grip.
Even if it's purely in your mind, just the thought of them suffering even an ounce of what you feel, what you've felt, gives you some sort of dark reprieve.
Then you think of your mother and…
It's gone.
The catharsis is chimeric.
You scream even louder and swing even harder.
You run straight up to a tree, a mighty oak, and begin to smash your bat against it.
Each swing of the bat sends chunks of bark flying off, the recoil from the blows leaving your palms sore and your shoulders aching.
Gritting your teeth you try to imagine striking your mother. Getting back at her for what she did…
But your swings falter and your baseball bat is spent spinning out of your sweating, shaking hand and into the darkness.
So you simply begin punching the tree with your bare hands.
You scream as you smash the exposed, young wood. The skin scraping off your knuckles with every hit.
You're pulled back to the moment on the phone. Your mother's voice rings in your ears. Your chest tightens and you let out another hateful scream.
The sweating, feverish heat engulfing your body suddenly breaks. You feel your fists striking the tree with almost no delay between hits.
Leaves fall from the branches above are shaken loose by your hits.
But they flutter to the ground far too s l o w l y.
Splinters fly as your blows begin to pulverize the wood inwards, leaving red stains and smears as your hands bleed and pulp beneath your endless swinging.
You push yourself harder, and harder, and harder expecting the anger to come. For release to arrive. For the torrent of pain inside you to finally STOP.
...But it doesn't.
Buried deep in your gut, buried deep in the back of your mind isn't anger.
It's sadness.
Your punches become wet, bloody slaps against the wood as your knees begin to buckle beneath you. A wave of exhaustion robbing you of your strength as the leaves fall at a normal speed around you.
The screaming stops as you begin to let out a hoarse, chocking sob. Trailing bloodied fingers down the face of the tree as you slump to the ground.
You want to hate your mother.
You want to blame her for everything.
You want her to be the reason your life isn't different, isn't better.
For once you want something in this god awful city to be simple.
…
But it's not.
Deep down you always known it's not.
You feel empathy for your mother. Her pain was audible, and some part of you feels guilty.
Did she even want you? Did she want any of her children? Was she that unhappy? Were you and your siblings just some 'mistake'?
Why did she bother trying to love you at all?
You curl into a fetal position in the dark of the woods amidst a bed of leave and cry.
That's all you can do for quite some time.
It's unclear how much time had passed when you were finally able to stop. But light was starting to push through the gaps in the tree canopy overhead.
Weakly pushing yourself to your feet you found your bat and stumbled your way home.
...
The blisters on your feet were easier to hide then your fucked up hands the next morning. Even if you were able to make an excuse to your siblings, Buzz Buzz pushed you on the matter. So you lied. Told him you were out training because you weren't feeling well.
At first it was just a lie.
Something to get him off your back.
But, amidst your attempts to lie you actually recounted the weird thing that happened in the forest.
Buzz Buzz believed you because, after a few tests, you both realized you'd discovered a new PSI Technique.
He congratulated you.
But you didn't feel anything when he did.
You don't feel better after what happened in the woods. But...
At least you're not lying to yourself about how you feel.
An 'old' PSI technique, sometimes referred to as 'QuickUp'. This technique allows the user to expend PSI energy to accelerate the state of being of a single target. Allowing them to move and react faster for a brief time, at the cost of potentially exhausting themselves. Stronger versions do not increase the amount of targets that can be affected by this technique, merely its intensity.
Stewardship: Buy Stock in the Baseball Bat Factory (Buzz-Buzz)
DC: 40/80/90
1d100 = 56 + 7 + 6 + 1 = 70
[Tier 1 Success] -5 FUNDS The whole thing was done via telephone. It was a small mercy. If you had to show up in person, god forbid in a suit or a dress, the whole thing would have been a bloodbath.
Obfuscating who you were was easy and any concern for your age more or less evaporated once it became clear you had serious money. You had been ready to simply call and get it over with, but Buzz Buzz had convinced you to wait.
It was no secret that the O.P.F's lockdown was starting to hurt the small businesses in town. What was supposed to be a simple protective measure was quickly starting to appear like a financial holocaust just over the horizon.
The 'Major' was a CEO of the company that more or less ran Onnet. You also knew just from what you found in his second home alone that he had cash to spare and could keep everything afloat, and people from getting too uppity, for a quite while.
But that didn't mean the bigger businesses, the ones not directly owned or controlled by Pirkle, wouldn't start to sweat.
Buzz Buzz had you wait to invest in the company until after they believed the mayor had sent the baseball bat factory money.
His guess that the mayor hadn't given the company nearly as much as they had hoped was spot on.
You didn't even need to talk down the investment price, they simply took your offer as soon as you made it. The hint of desperation over the line would have made you feel bad if you didn't already feel like garbage about everything else.
Even with his limited knowledge of human economics, Buzz Buzz had pulled through. The labor of doing business over the phone was over, and it wouldn't be long till you got for first bout of 'passive income'.
Enough to pay the bills, buy groceries, and then some.
Knowing that your money troubles were at least partially over put some small part of you at ease.
+ Passive Income Gained! Bills can be paid. +1 Funds per turn!
Intrigue: Break Into the Hospital (Porky)
DC: 50/???
1d100 = 90+3+24= 117
[SMASSSSSSHSUCCESS!] "I'll be right back, we just need to check the documentation."
Porky's smile couldn't have been more artificial if it was whatever they tried to pass off as 'beef' in the school cafeteria.
He sat in the cheap plastic chair in the hospital director's office, his eyes following the female doctor until she exited her office completely. Porky made sure to remain perfectly still as he listened to the sound of her heels disappear before he dropped his act.
"Hehe, they'll drop their guard completely when it comes to squeezing money out of someone!"
Sliding out of his seat, he quickly made his way around to the other side of the director's desk and began going through her drawers.
It was a careful, meticulous process. Porky had gone through his parents things to know that one paper or pen out of place could mean the end of everything.
He was thankful to find what he was looking for in the first drawer. A set of master keys to the whole hospital. Backdoors, front doors, and especially the doors to the labs.
"If CD wants to rob the place they do can it themselves. She's about a subtle as a rapid dog, but even she can clean out this place tonight after hours as long as she has the keys."
Porky jiggled the ring of keys in front of his pudgy face with a satisfied smirk. His feet were already starting to hurt and he was ready to slide back into his seat and wait for his first chance to leave when he was hit with a realization.
"The people here are stupid, but they're NOT stupid enough to leave the locks the same after the place gets robbed."
This would probably be his own chance to root around in the hospital for a while.
Porky had no particular desire to do so, but if doing it now meant not having to do it again later on when CD inevitably got some wild hare up her butt, then he'd bite the bullet.
Rooting through the rest of the head doctors drawers, Porky found nothing of interest. Not even any 'fun' description medications he could sell or bribe people with.
In fact, he kept hearing an annoying clicking noise every time he opened one of the drawers.
"Jeez, for a doctor they sure cheaped out on their desk. Dad always goes on about getting a 'real artificial mahogany', I figured a doctor with too much money would do the same."
Pulling open the last drawer, Porky saw nothing but a roll of mints-
Click Ca-CHUNK!
Porky abruptly stepped away from the desk, his gut clenching as something mechanical moved.
He nearly bolted from the room. Visions of grenades and boobytrapped spikes filling his head.
However he stopped when he saw it.
In the area where a normal person's legs would have been while sitting, a panel had opened up.
And inside he saw a glint of silver.
"Jackpot!"
Porky got on his hands and knees, crawling under the desk to get to the compartment.
Inside he found a stack of papers stabled together and a small duralumin case.
With his fat fingers already sweaty with anticipation, Porky popped open the case and looked at the contents inside.
Kept in foam cut-outs where what appeared to be some sort of gun? On close examination it looked like some sort of medical device. Like an injector, but with many smaller needles instead of one long one. Kept with it was a large green vial of liquid.
"Yikes!" Porky felt his butt clench at the sight of the size of the vial and the gun itself.
"I can see why people hate needles now. Is ALL of that supposed to go into someone? All at once?"
Porky's dread prompted him to close the case and actually flip through the papers included with it.
His worries it would be some draw, mile-thick medical booklet turned out to be false. Instead it was a hastily written up report of sorts, the dates on it indicates it was from almost a year ago.
Hey Boss.
We got the drug shipment from our contact. It's the same bootleg painkillers and medicines as usual, but I noticed there was some actual Metpharm products mixed in with things.
I tried asking our guy before he bolted, but all he said that Metpharm was liquidating a bunch of 'old inventory' and he simply scooped up what he could.
Didn't exactly instill confidence, and I didn't want you yelling at me if someone stroked out because of bad meds again, so I looked through things.
And I found something weird.
Amidst the painkillers and antidepressants I found what at first looked like a gun.
After examining it though, it turned out it was an injector. Came with two 'drug cylinders' filled with a green liquid.
Something called NELCON? No real labels and only basic instructors on how to use the injector. Given the whole cylinder is supposed to be used in a single 'dose', we just had to crack one open and see what the lab could tell us.
I mean, can you blame me? Fucking LOOK at the thing, the dosage is insane!
We got no real answers. All we can figure out is that it's a pretty advanced drug, something meant to stimulate part of the user's brain. Stuff SCREAMS high-end designer drug to me.
We gave some small doses (I'm talking drops) to some patients, and apparently it works as a potent antiemetic.
Though more likely an intentional result, since the side-effects in some of the patients we treated (especially that obnoxious soapboxer girl from Twoson) were pretty weird.
We can save quite a bit of money using this instead of conventional antiemetics.
Keep the remaining cylinder and the injector locked up, since the stuff we got from the first cylinder should last us a long while.
Still. This creeps me out.
A lot of the stuff we got is old Metpharm crap. It's still good, but it's...I don't know I just have a bad feeling. Did we get something we weren't supposed to?
You KNOW how weird they are about not doing business in the Eagle Quarter. They get a particular kind of pissed when they learn their stuff ends up here.
Porky heard the sound of heels in the distance.
"Frick frick frick frick-"
He crawled as fast as his plump body would go, quickly closing each individual drawer before running back to his chair.
Porky however realized he was still holding the case and papers.
As the sound of footsteps grew louder his head darted around the room, looking for a place to stash the case.
The door opened and the doctor strolled back in, a displeased look on his face.
"I'm afraid I couldn't find any outstanding medical bills in your name."
Walking into the room the doctor looked to Porky who smiled at her from his seat, his hands in his lap.
The doctor abruptly paused, staring at the boy.
"Did you…get fatter?"
Porky's smile tightened.
His mind rushed for a response.
"Did you? It looks like those panty hose will blast open if you so much as bend over."
The women's eyes, previously narrowed from suspicion, narrow into a dilated glare-
…
"Jokes on her, my Mom hits me way harder. Hehe."
Porky muttered, unable to feel the entire left side of his face as he exited the hospital.
He walked down the street, keys in his pocket and the paper and case stuffed down the front of his overalls. Porky would give them both to CD.
He would, unfortunately, NOT be able to weasel his way out of helping with the break in. In the middle of the night he'd be stuck helping balancing all manner of medical techno-crap on a 'borrowed' wagon as CD made off with most of the hospital's laboratory equipment.
+ [You have acquired Assorted Lab Equipment]
+ [You have acquired Strange Injector & Drug: NELCON]
Learning: Obscure Talks with the Treehouse Boys
DC: 50/???
1d100 = 1+8 = 9
[SMASSSSSSH FAILURE!]
It was supposed to be fun.
The Treehouse Boys gathered in the treehouse with a cobbled together film projector and a real film reel.
They almost spent more time talking about the damn movie then actually getting it to play.
It was called PHASE IV.
You half-listened in the dark as they talked about how it was an obscure sci-fi film from 1974. That it came out just four years before the Invaders showed up and was 'oddly prophetic'
All you could do was roll your eyes as the movie started.
Part of you hoped for something flashy and exciting. With rayguns and laughable special effects.
Instead you got two old dudes talking constantly in some dome in the desert filled with computers big enough to fill your house.
The boys were engaged but you were considering going to sleep.
That's when the ants showed up.
You learned very quickly that was what the movie was about.
Ants on the planet had become super intelligent and were doing weird things. The scientists were attempting to communicate with them, and eventually destroy them.
You watched as the ants, bit by bit, began to win.
Destroying the scientists computers. Destroying the cooling in the lab. Poisoning one of the men and driving them to madness.
Even killing one girl's family, who the scientists barely saved, only for her to eventually run out into the desert.
The boys talked through the whole thing, pointing out the use of actual ants, or what scenes just used raisins on the floor, laughing to themselves as they went.
But you weren't laughing.
As the movie progressed things got worse, and worse, until the ending.
The last surviving scientist ended up in some sand pit with a tank of poison, looking for the ant Queen.
Then the girl rose out of the sand to greet the scientist.
It was like she was 'one' with the ants.
As if there were thousands of crawling, squirming, biting, sentient thingsinside her.
Puppeting her.
You immediately thought of your mother.
You nearly threw up on the treehouse floor.
...
The boys were less then happy with the mess and your abrupt departure from the treehouse, but you didn't care. You were simply happy to be out of the dark.
Your skin crawled thinking about the movie. About the ants. About the Antoids you had fought and now no longer knew the location of.
You kept looking over your shoulder, feeling constantly on edge.
The movie was supposed to teach you something, but all you learned was how much more you could hate bugs.
As you walked home all you could do was take comfort that Giygas and his cronies couldn't take any pointers from fiction.
...Right?
THE INVADERS HAVE BEGUN TO PLOT...
Buzz Buzz's Personal Action: Help Around the House
1d100 = 4 Buzz Buzz could tell CD was at her limit.
She was angry, sad, constantly on edge, and more aggressive then usual.
It didn't help that CD seemed intent on going off alone by herself and seemed almost repelled by your company at times.
He knew to respect CD's wishes however. Whenever she was pushed, she always pushed back. Space was likely what she needed in order to heal and prepare herself.
Buzz Buzz also knew that he didn't need to be directly with CD to help her.
While she was out of the house, Buzz Buzz flew around doing what he could to make things easier for her.
He put together what he felt were appropriate lunches for Kart and Floppy, hauling the bits of food bigger then himself into paper bags.
Buzz Buzz toiled applying ample cleaning agents to the rather nasty looking kitchen floor.
Before, ultimately, wrapping up his herculean efforts by assisting in loading the cleaning apparatus in the house with dirty dishes.
Exhausted from his efforts, Buzz Buzz stood back and waited in the corners of the house to see his helpful efforts unfold.
First, Kart and Floppy returned home from school. Ill from eating what turned out to be moldy pizza that had been in the back of the fridge.
Second, upon entering through the back door, Kart and Floppy nearly killed themselves slipping on the kitchen floor. Every square inch of it was lubricated with cleaning liquid.
And finally, the tumble dryer turned on, smashing a number of plates and glasses into smithereens in the process.
Never before, save for the retreating moments of the war, had Buzz Buzz regretted his decisions more then in that moment.
He spent the day, and many afterwards, simply cleaning up his mess...
Porky's Personal Action: Loaf Around
After the hospital business, Porky was thankful to find that CD was in too much of a mood to drag him out of the house on too many more escapades.
He was half-tempted to make a joke but with the way she looked Porky feared doing so would mean losing most of the skin on his face.
So Porky simply took the chance to do nothing.
He sat on the couch with whatever snacks he could get his hands on, turned on the television, and allowed his ass to begin properly growing into the cushions.
There was something cathartic about doing absolutely nothing after doing things he had no desire to do in the first place.
The shows were more entertaining, the chips were saltier, the chocolate was...still garbage, even the boredom was more relaxing then mind-numbing.
Porky wondered if this was what they meant by 'work hard, play hard'. But he didn't particularly care, because he knew it wouldn't last.
So, he'd simply make the best of it before CD knocked on his door again.
Porky is well rested. Next turn he will add an additional +10 bonus to any action he is assigned to.
All steps are important, regardless if they are forward or backwards. For to fail to move at all is to stagnate and die.
This is a pivotal moment and such moments require special attention.
Faction Founding will be a multi-step process. Individual options will be focused on for voting, to allow greater detail on the individual pieces that will make up the whole.
The first thing to be decided is what type of faction you would like to form.
Next will follow the name of the faction and what kind of flag you'd like to have, which will be drawn by me.
Finally a vote will be held on the faction's starting trait(s) which will determine certain modifiers to how the group operates.
Let us begin with the first part:
Faction Type
Pick the 'type' of organization you'd like to found from the following options. This will determine the benefits, downsides, and overall demeanor of the faction as a whole.
[] Corporate: Any organization or group established primarily around the pursuit of profit. Most are structured like an actual corporation with workers, internal hierarchies, an expectation of payment for services rendered. They are the norm in The City, as is their self-serving, corrupt, and often exploitative nature. A corporate org, however small, has an air of legitimacy, but also the responsibility to maintain that air however illusory it is compared to their actual actions.
Starting Reputation +10. Treated neutrally by some corps, at least at first.
+ Lower DCs for official Stewardess rolls.
- Held to detrimental standards and suffers much harsher penalties for being caught breaking the law. Some characters will never, ever join a corp. Certain characters or factions will be instantly hostile to you due to your corporate nature.
[] Criminal:Any organization that falls outside of the law or societal norms of the city, for good or for ill. They can be motivated by ideology or profit. Street gangs, terrorist groups, or ideological movements that don't line up with the ways of The City. Just because they operate outside the law however doesn't mean they have to be in the wrong.
Starting Reputation -40, but other 'criminal' groups might treat you neutrally or favorably when they otherwise wouldn't.
- Starts initially seen in a negative light from the outside and suffers higher DCs trying running 'official' operations.
+ Unrestricted in their operations and gains large bonuses to recruitment, attracting all kinds of people and Heroes. Criminal organizations are capable of attracting those who would never work for a corp.
[] Archaic: Factions that fall outside of the expectations of the times, not to mention The City. Monarchies, cults, democracies, and the various other ideologies and institutions few people have faith in within The City itself. Unconventional and odd, they are too varied for most to make immediate assumptions about them be it positive or negative.
Starting Reputation 0. Firmly neutral to most factions and groups. Either due to confusion or the faction being seen as unimportant.
+ Gain a random additional positive organization trait reflecting the old, or unusual methodology/ideology the group operates by.
- Steep penalties for recruiting personnel and expanding if founded outside of the Outlands.
Hello.
This is not an April Fool's Joke, simply an inopportune time to post.
Some life problems came up that robbed me of my ability to work on this for a while, but now I should be back to regularly updating this.
I will give a 48 hour waiting period before I open voting on faction matters, to give everyone time to realize I'm back and talk things out.
Voting will open Wednesday around 11 AM or so.
I will also attempt to get to Omakes and such, I have some bookkeeping to do here.
