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The Streetwalker's Guide to the Hierarchy
- Thread starter Birdsie
- Start date
Demimonde - Cracked Moon
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Nature of Street Attunement
According to Shi Lei's explanation, the Street's Stones are a discrete being - not ensouled but 'similar' enough to a living entity. They possess a certain level of rudimentary self-awareness and recognition and weave through all of time and space. However, they are not without a purpose, as each traveler moves towards a destination. This destination varies, and sometimes isn't even reached at all: sometimes, an endless journey is itself the destination. But the Street can theoretically deliver you anywhere.
This all implies the Street was intelligently designed; Shi Lei suspects the Street is a product of the universe itself, which is a benevolent force (an idea which elicits a quiet scoff from Dorian, who is on the misanthropic and pessimistic side of the argument.) However, he'll inform you other travelers have attributed its existence to anything from divine intervention to an advanced precursor civilization. Not one of the Streetwalkers alive, even the oldest wayfarers who've crossed paths with each other countless times, know where it actually came from, even if some of the most attuned might've gleaned a couple of hints.
Aside from that, Shi Lei confirmed your earlier suppositions on the Street's effects and expanded your knowledge: in due time, you'll gain a natural traveler's instincts, as well as knowledge of geology, allowing you to determine the properties of stones and minerals easily. Dorian's interested in this, as supernatural stone can make for an interesting material for masks. Shi Lei recommends humming along with the Street to raise attunement!
Shi Lei's explanation has raised your Attunement to 3, allowing you even greater leeway in your actions!
Other Wayfarers
According to Shi Lei, the members of the ever-tenuous 'Wayfarer's Society' can change spontaneously, although there are a couple of notable pillars, long-time wayfarers at least recognizable to their fellow 'veterans' of the Street:
Archibald Westmoreland - Formerly a mundane British explorer, now a well-respected and seasoned Streetwalker and self-proclaimed Gentleman Adventurer Extraordinaire, as well as the famous writer and occasional salesman of A Life Adrift: A Wayfarer's Autobiography, a complete record of his extensive travels and adventures throughout the 'Hierarchy' which appears to be a common name for the sum of all worlds. Archibald is a pioneer and gallivanter, though he sports an impressive collection of magics as well, and shouldn't be underestimated. Quickly recognizable by the unmistakable magical monocle he wears to conduct appraisal of found artifacts, as well as for flair.
Truck-kun - An entity which Shi Lei encountered in person. It's an animate truck - a concept that would've been unfamiliar to you before you'd ended up on Earth - which travels the Street. Willing to give people rides, though it's had to run down a few carjackers. According to Shi Lei's instincts, it wants to return to its owner and is collecting souvenirs to bring back. Willing to engage in trade but has trouble communicating except through honking, flashing lights, or revving the engine.
The Bowwoman - Susan, no surname given. Proud and beautiful, possessed of absurdly supernatural archery skills. A wielder of at least a dozen magical arts, as well as some form of divinely-derived darkness with myriad effects. She's one of the mightier Streetwalkers known to Shi Lei. Her motives are unclear.
The Knight-Errant - Meliadus of Logres. Rides a sapient warhorse descended from the legendary Gringolet, wields a lance to strike down his enemies and a horn which exhorts allies to do their uttermost. Combines vast power with humility and good cheer, which falters when asked to speak of his home. Sworn to shelter the weak and interprets this to include animals, within reason. Asks only for fruit and vegetables in payment; his horse is fond of apples.
The Humming Gentleman - A kind-eyed old soul who smiles with genuine, knowing cheer. Stratospheric attunement. Doesn't speak but you can get the gist of what he isn't saying from the Street's song. Gives trinkets and maps of places which may not exist to those who ask, or food to any in need of it. There are no accounts of anyone surviving a battle in which he participated.
The Encroaching Darkness - A tenebrous shroud which steals over the Street, advancing like a living thing. Those that pass through it feel death's chill touch upon their heart: coldness, palpitations, a sense of regrets and deeds left undone. Sometimes the person who emerges is different from the one who entered, having made different choices. It is recommended to stand aside, should the surrounding stones be wide enough to permit it. Otherwise, gird yourself and prepare torches.
An Amalgamation - A wanderer whose journey takes him to places of opportunity, often violent ones. Little of his original flesh remains. His name was likewise sacrificed for power; goes by Theseus. Wields a potent astra taken from a deva he slew on the Street; the many mechanical hands grafted to his cybernetic chassis perform the mudras he gleaned by consuming the deva's brain. Continuously seeks power, but religiously abides by the letter of mercenary contracts if he enters into them. Highly attuned with significant leeway; refuses to leave the Street. Shi Lei recommends caution if you ever encounter him.
That Somber Place
It does seem Shi Lei doesn't wish to speak of this, but when pressed, he offers some answers: the Street encounters a span of somber emptiness sometimes, an event which the attuned can predict from the sound of static, or breaks and lulls in the song. There, a tempter in gold attempts to entice wayfarers off the righteous path, a mask of yellow that whispers secrets and truths to attract travelers into 'its world,' whereupon it seizes them and voraciously corrupts them, to serve its own inscrutable goals.
That sounds exactly like the Somber Mask, who's not a Streetwalker but has apparent access to other worlds. You should invest in some means of shielding your mind against intrusion outside of simple willpower. Almost none can survive the Somber Mask's intrusion; if this is the same being, you'll need to be cautious.
*Dorian will automatically work on a protective mask, based on the Joyous Inquisition's designs, unless you veto this.
---
Cracked Moon
After receiving Shi Lei's answers, the song intensified and warned Dorian of his next world. The Streetwalkers bid each other a cordial goodbye, with Dorian staying on the side of informal politeness, choosing not to anger the old cultivator yet also wanting to avoid more of his preachiness about evil and revenge.
The Street then deposited Dorian on yet another post-apocalyptic hellscape.
Above, the vast moon was cracked, a haunting milk-white orb with fissures leading away from a point of impact; a shattering the size of a continent. Clusters of bone-white shards orbited the moon. Even the world's atmosphere teemed with them, as Dorian beheld the glint of reflected light, as if a thousand snowflakes hovered ominously above.
Oh. There was also the endless horde of rampaging werewolves. Eyes sickeningly yellow, like sallow storm clouds, redolent with animal madness and blinded with primal fury, almost glowing as if high on a freshly decocted narcotic. The wolves' limbs ranged from pathetically gangly to terrifyingly muscular, and they were covered in fur ranging from gray to a mangy matte black. The abrupt refrain of enraged howls at his appearance elucidated their complete desire to tear him apart as if he were a child's doll.
Fortunately, the Street deposited him on the other side of a head-height chainwire fence.
Unfortunately, that was the only obstacle for the stampede of werewolves. They charged without a glimmer of hesitation.
His Webweaver's suppression struck the horde as if a tsunami had swept underneath their claws, shaking them off-balance. It slowed them down, albeit no one's transformation reverted; it seemed the moon-madness was too intense. Dorian was already running.
"This is such a joke," he huffed, sprinting at full tilt. That damn Street, does it hate me?!
A single werewolf climbed over the fence. Knowing that outrunning such a beast was a dead man's dream, he pivoted into the nearest alleyway to lose visual contact. Then, Dorian realized that werewolves most likely possessed a sufficiently advanced olfactory sense to come after him even without sight.
Oh damnation with this all. First the Undead, now this?
He climbed over another fence agilely, like a trained acrobat, preternaturally enhanced arms swinging the bulk of his body over the obstacle. A sense of fearful adrenaline mingled with genuine annoyance allowed him to massage extra vitality out of each breath, allowing better pacing, and affording him less stamina loss. After several moments of running, he once more turned a corner... only to find a dead end, the sound of the wolfpack running after him echoing from each wall.
Most would've wallowed in despair. Doriant felt no compulsion to such an emotion.
I do not surrender.
He considered the best method of escape, since fighting off an army of werewolves was a sucker's bet, even with the Crimson Lost. After scanning the alleyway for a moment, he found a sewer grate as well as a cracked window to an apartment; either one could serve as a hiding place.
His musing was interrupted when a voice cried out from above. "Hey! You're not a wolf?"
It was a middle-aged man, with a mustache and goatee, holding a strange rifle - not a musket as Dorian was accustomed, but one of those Earth firearms, a semi-automatic that used en bloc clips - and an even stranger rifle, seemingly composed of an oblong body concluding in a metal tube, sparking near its barrel, with all sorts of dials across it. The man wore a soldier's uniform with epaulets on each shoulder. Next to him stood a woman in a coat with a serious look, staring down the alley where the wolves were about to come, following Dorian to the dead end he'd ended up in.
"No, I'm not."
"A vamp?"
A vampire?
"No, I'm human."
"Well climb on this then, laddie!" The man kicked down a rope ladder over the edge. It clattered for several moments and finally reached him down at the bottom.
Dorian looked back, as the werewolves finally turned the corner.
---
Your Street attunement whispers you have a maximum of eight (8) days on this world. Your circumscribed exploration zone is an area that imperfectly covers the district you're in; venturing outside to other parts of the city will drain your time at triple the rate; venturing beyond that, at exponentially increasing rates.
Other data:
*Dorian's carrying food and water that can last him about a day, and can stave off hunger with sufficient Viscerality, if matters become desperate. Nonetheless, you'd be advised to keep an eye out for sources of sustenance. On your last world, the hospital had plentiful stocks; this may not necessarily be true here.
*You have a basic set of mask-crafting tools in case you feel the need to tinker. Dorian now feels that investing in a storage-based mask could be a wise idea, given the amount of goods he could carry between worlds with such a power.
First, however, choose your reaction to the survivors' offer of salvation:
[ ] Go With Them - When the world's full of madness, who are you to refuse a ladder that leads up to the heavens? Cooperate with your fellow esteemed survivors on yet another damnable apocalypse world and find a way out of this madness.
[ ] Go On Your Own - You can always find them later if you feel so inclined. Give them a mock salute and don the Specter, phasing through...
-[ ] The Grate - To enter the sewer.
-[ ] The Window - To stay above the ground.
[ ] Write-in
According to Shi Lei's explanation, the Street's Stones are a discrete being - not ensouled but 'similar' enough to a living entity. They possess a certain level of rudimentary self-awareness and recognition and weave through all of time and space. However, they are not without a purpose, as each traveler moves towards a destination. This destination varies, and sometimes isn't even reached at all: sometimes, an endless journey is itself the destination. But the Street can theoretically deliver you anywhere.
This all implies the Street was intelligently designed; Shi Lei suspects the Street is a product of the universe itself, which is a benevolent force (an idea which elicits a quiet scoff from Dorian, who is on the misanthropic and pessimistic side of the argument.) However, he'll inform you other travelers have attributed its existence to anything from divine intervention to an advanced precursor civilization. Not one of the Streetwalkers alive, even the oldest wayfarers who've crossed paths with each other countless times, know where it actually came from, even if some of the most attuned might've gleaned a couple of hints.
Aside from that, Shi Lei confirmed your earlier suppositions on the Street's effects and expanded your knowledge: in due time, you'll gain a natural traveler's instincts, as well as knowledge of geology, allowing you to determine the properties of stones and minerals easily. Dorian's interested in this, as supernatural stone can make for an interesting material for masks. Shi Lei recommends humming along with the Street to raise attunement!
Shi Lei's explanation has raised your Attunement to 3, allowing you even greater leeway in your actions!
Other Wayfarers
According to Shi Lei, the members of the ever-tenuous 'Wayfarer's Society' can change spontaneously, although there are a couple of notable pillars, long-time wayfarers at least recognizable to their fellow 'veterans' of the Street:
Archibald Westmoreland - Formerly a mundane British explorer, now a well-respected and seasoned Streetwalker and self-proclaimed Gentleman Adventurer Extraordinaire, as well as the famous writer and occasional salesman of A Life Adrift: A Wayfarer's Autobiography, a complete record of his extensive travels and adventures throughout the 'Hierarchy' which appears to be a common name for the sum of all worlds. Archibald is a pioneer and gallivanter, though he sports an impressive collection of magics as well, and shouldn't be underestimated. Quickly recognizable by the unmistakable magical monocle he wears to conduct appraisal of found artifacts, as well as for flair.
Truck-kun - An entity which Shi Lei encountered in person. It's an animate truck - a concept that would've been unfamiliar to you before you'd ended up on Earth - which travels the Street. Willing to give people rides, though it's had to run down a few carjackers. According to Shi Lei's instincts, it wants to return to its owner and is collecting souvenirs to bring back. Willing to engage in trade but has trouble communicating except through honking, flashing lights, or revving the engine.
The Bowwoman - Susan, no surname given. Proud and beautiful, possessed of absurdly supernatural archery skills. A wielder of at least a dozen magical arts, as well as some form of divinely-derived darkness with myriad effects. She's one of the mightier Streetwalkers known to Shi Lei. Her motives are unclear.
The Knight-Errant - Meliadus of Logres. Rides a sapient warhorse descended from the legendary Gringolet, wields a lance to strike down his enemies and a horn which exhorts allies to do their uttermost. Combines vast power with humility and good cheer, which falters when asked to speak of his home. Sworn to shelter the weak and interprets this to include animals, within reason. Asks only for fruit and vegetables in payment; his horse is fond of apples.
The Humming Gentleman - A kind-eyed old soul who smiles with genuine, knowing cheer. Stratospheric attunement. Doesn't speak but you can get the gist of what he isn't saying from the Street's song. Gives trinkets and maps of places which may not exist to those who ask, or food to any in need of it. There are no accounts of anyone surviving a battle in which he participated.
The Encroaching Darkness - A tenebrous shroud which steals over the Street, advancing like a living thing. Those that pass through it feel death's chill touch upon their heart: coldness, palpitations, a sense of regrets and deeds left undone. Sometimes the person who emerges is different from the one who entered, having made different choices. It is recommended to stand aside, should the surrounding stones be wide enough to permit it. Otherwise, gird yourself and prepare torches.
An Amalgamation - A wanderer whose journey takes him to places of opportunity, often violent ones. Little of his original flesh remains. His name was likewise sacrificed for power; goes by Theseus. Wields a potent astra taken from a deva he slew on the Street; the many mechanical hands grafted to his cybernetic chassis perform the mudras he gleaned by consuming the deva's brain. Continuously seeks power, but religiously abides by the letter of mercenary contracts if he enters into them. Highly attuned with significant leeway; refuses to leave the Street. Shi Lei recommends caution if you ever encounter him.
That Somber Place
It does seem Shi Lei doesn't wish to speak of this, but when pressed, he offers some answers: the Street encounters a span of somber emptiness sometimes, an event which the attuned can predict from the sound of static, or breaks and lulls in the song. There, a tempter in gold attempts to entice wayfarers off the righteous path, a mask of yellow that whispers secrets and truths to attract travelers into 'its world,' whereupon it seizes them and voraciously corrupts them, to serve its own inscrutable goals.
That sounds exactly like the Somber Mask, who's not a Streetwalker but has apparent access to other worlds. You should invest in some means of shielding your mind against intrusion outside of simple willpower. Almost none can survive the Somber Mask's intrusion; if this is the same being, you'll need to be cautious.
*Dorian will automatically work on a protective mask, based on the Joyous Inquisition's designs, unless you veto this.
---
Cracked Moon
After receiving Shi Lei's answers, the song intensified and warned Dorian of his next world. The Streetwalkers bid each other a cordial goodbye, with Dorian staying on the side of informal politeness, choosing not to anger the old cultivator yet also wanting to avoid more of his preachiness about evil and revenge.
The Street then deposited Dorian on yet another post-apocalyptic hellscape.
Above, the vast moon was cracked, a haunting milk-white orb with fissures leading away from a point of impact; a shattering the size of a continent. Clusters of bone-white shards orbited the moon. Even the world's atmosphere teemed with them, as Dorian beheld the glint of reflected light, as if a thousand snowflakes hovered ominously above.
Oh. There was also the endless horde of rampaging werewolves. Eyes sickeningly yellow, like sallow storm clouds, redolent with animal madness and blinded with primal fury, almost glowing as if high on a freshly decocted narcotic. The wolves' limbs ranged from pathetically gangly to terrifyingly muscular, and they were covered in fur ranging from gray to a mangy matte black. The abrupt refrain of enraged howls at his appearance elucidated their complete desire to tear him apart as if he were a child's doll.
Fortunately, the Street deposited him on the other side of a head-height chainwire fence.
Unfortunately, that was the only obstacle for the stampede of werewolves. They charged without a glimmer of hesitation.
His Webweaver's suppression struck the horde as if a tsunami had swept underneath their claws, shaking them off-balance. It slowed them down, albeit no one's transformation reverted; it seemed the moon-madness was too intense. Dorian was already running.
"This is such a joke," he huffed, sprinting at full tilt. That damn Street, does it hate me?!
A single werewolf climbed over the fence. Knowing that outrunning such a beast was a dead man's dream, he pivoted into the nearest alleyway to lose visual contact. Then, Dorian realized that werewolves most likely possessed a sufficiently advanced olfactory sense to come after him even without sight.
Oh damnation with this all. First the Undead, now this?
He climbed over another fence agilely, like a trained acrobat, preternaturally enhanced arms swinging the bulk of his body over the obstacle. A sense of fearful adrenaline mingled with genuine annoyance allowed him to massage extra vitality out of each breath, allowing better pacing, and affording him less stamina loss. After several moments of running, he once more turned a corner... only to find a dead end, the sound of the wolfpack running after him echoing from each wall.
Most would've wallowed in despair. Doriant felt no compulsion to such an emotion.
I do not surrender.
He considered the best method of escape, since fighting off an army of werewolves was a sucker's bet, even with the Crimson Lost. After scanning the alleyway for a moment, he found a sewer grate as well as a cracked window to an apartment; either one could serve as a hiding place.
His musing was interrupted when a voice cried out from above. "Hey! You're not a wolf?"
It was a middle-aged man, with a mustache and goatee, holding a strange rifle - not a musket as Dorian was accustomed, but one of those Earth firearms, a semi-automatic that used en bloc clips - and an even stranger rifle, seemingly composed of an oblong body concluding in a metal tube, sparking near its barrel, with all sorts of dials across it. The man wore a soldier's uniform with epaulets on each shoulder. Next to him stood a woman in a coat with a serious look, staring down the alley where the wolves were about to come, following Dorian to the dead end he'd ended up in.
"No, I'm not."
"A vamp?"
A vampire?
"No, I'm human."
"Well climb on this then, laddie!" The man kicked down a rope ladder over the edge. It clattered for several moments and finally reached him down at the bottom.
Dorian looked back, as the werewolves finally turned the corner.
---
Your Street attunement whispers you have a maximum of eight (8) days on this world. Your circumscribed exploration zone is an area that imperfectly covers the district you're in; venturing outside to other parts of the city will drain your time at triple the rate; venturing beyond that, at exponentially increasing rates.
Other data:
*Dorian's carrying food and water that can last him about a day, and can stave off hunger with sufficient Viscerality, if matters become desperate. Nonetheless, you'd be advised to keep an eye out for sources of sustenance. On your last world, the hospital had plentiful stocks; this may not necessarily be true here.
*You have a basic set of mask-crafting tools in case you feel the need to tinker. Dorian now feels that investing in a storage-based mask could be a wise idea, given the amount of goods he could carry between worlds with such a power.
First, however, choose your reaction to the survivors' offer of salvation:
[ ] Go With Them - When the world's full of madness, who are you to refuse a ladder that leads up to the heavens? Cooperate with your fellow esteemed survivors on yet another damnable apocalypse world and find a way out of this madness.
[ ] Go On Your Own - You can always find them later if you feel so inclined. Give them a mock salute and don the Specter, phasing through...
-[ ] The Grate - To enter the sewer.
-[ ] The Window - To stay above the ground.
[ ] Write-in
Last edited:
OctarineShrike
Avatar of Mandos
[X] Go With Them - When the world's full of madness, who are you to refuse a ladder that leads up to the heavens? Cooperate with your fellow esteemed survivors on yet another damnable apocalypse world and find a way out of this madness.
- Location
- Louisiana
[X] Go With Them
Our strongest mask is best at social manipulation. Similarly to zombie world, connecting with survivors allows us to learn the nature of the world quicker and figure out whatever low hanging fruit we can grab. We don't need to even stay with them long, but finding info is important.
Our strongest mask is best at social manipulation. Similarly to zombie world, connecting with survivors allows us to learn the nature of the world quicker and figure out whatever low hanging fruit we can grab. We don't need to even stay with them long, but finding info is important.
[X] Go With Them - When the world's full of madness, who are you to refuse a ladder that leads up to the heavens? Cooperate with your fellow esteemed survivors on yet another damnable apocalypse world and find a way out of this madness.
Knowledge is very helpful.
Knowledge is very helpful.
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Just wait! This one has way more interesting gribblies than only werewolves. You might get the full bingo!
[X] Fuck It, Knife.
- Put on Crimson, fight the wolves anyway. Fuck the odds.
- Put on Crimson, fight the wolves anyway. Fuck the odds.
Absolutely loving the characters. The new setting looks great too - the scene with the vision of the cracked moon..
[X] Go On Your Own
-[X] The Grate
There's just something so Dorian about just giving them a mocking wave and smoking off into the sewers..
Edit:
[X] Fuck It, Knife.
- Put on Crimson, fight the wolves anyway. Fuck the odds.
[X] Go On Your Own
-[X] The Grate
There's just something so Dorian about just giving them a mocking wave and smoking off into the sewers..
Edit:
[X] Fuck It, Knife.
- Put on Crimson, fight the wolves anyway. Fuck the odds.
Last edited:
Not even the Hierarchy can escape the reach of the British Empire
New favourite character
[X] Go With Them
Ahhh i forgot to vote last time!
At least I'm happy with the results lol. But as for this world I don't see a reason not to follow the friendly militia men atm. We have significantly more leeway time wise and can gain some serious favor dealing out masks or just doing a couple of things only Dorian can do. Like gain intel via screentime etc.
Ahhh i forgot to vote last time!
At least I'm happy with the results lol. But as for this world I don't see a reason not to follow the friendly militia men atm. We have significantly more leeway time wise and can gain some serious favor dealing out masks or just doing a couple of things only Dorian can do. Like gain intel via screentime etc.
Aww but we already went to the survivors last time. I wanna see the mutant survivors or like, were-sewer rats or something. Sewer pls
- Location
- washington
You know I've gotta ask does Dorian's homeworld have the concept of werewolves? Weirdly it doesn't sound that strange just take a wolf make a mask of it make werewolves.
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
The concept's not unheard of, but mostly as stories or masks that portray the identity of a werewolf, rather than the actual fucking thing.
The Streets are pretty cool and mysterious but this is good information to have. Dorian not buying the universe being benevolent is pretty in character for him.
The British Explorer archetype knows no limits.
DREAD IT.
Very skilled at the art of murder.
Scary old wise man.
Eldritch Abomination.
Theseus is a pretty fitting name for this fellow.
A practical thing to develop.
It seems to like doing that for some reason.
[X] Go With Them
Dorian is a social character and this is the social choice.
Rihaku
The Internet
Great, we're in Remnant.
We should pick up some elephant guns or the equivalent. Very big guns + depowering Mask = general anti-exotic solution. As we level Webweaver, its Anti-magic capabilities will naturally increase due to its total Potential going up. This will happen even if we focus Puppeteer exclusively, so it's a pretty good deal especially when combined with our enhanced stats from Viscerality.
We should pick up some elephant guns or the equivalent. Very big guns + depowering Mask = general anti-exotic solution. As we level Webweaver, its Anti-magic capabilities will naturally increase due to its total Potential going up. This will happen even if we focus Puppeteer exclusively, so it's a pretty good deal especially when combined with our enhanced stats from Viscerality.
It seems that they have a railgun or some kind of disintegration rifle so that's neat.
I'm still sad we didn't get Marskman skill way back. That and advanced rifle and marksman mask or just Glass for depowering would go very hard for our starting powerlevel.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Wait, is he wielding an astradhari (person who knows how to summon an astra) or an astra (summoned divine weapon)? This is a very important distinction, but I could see it going either way if he's incorporated a deva into his cybernetics.
I must say, our anti-magic is putting in a lot of work. Most of us thought of it a an afterthought, but it might just shape up to be most important feature of our mask?
In the same vein, I do think that Pupeeteer is underachieving hard. There just seem to be a lot of situations where we can't use it's social effectevly or at all, and I expect diminishing returns out of it.
I don't think Reflection and Shaper did shit so far. Nothing else to say there, sadly.
Overall, Glass is pretty poor thus far. I'm not sure if this is because we are not playing to it's strengths or because world fit is just too poor for it, but it's performance leaves a lot to be desired.
Let's see if we can do better once we get to League of Extraordinary Gentlemen knockoffs.
In the same vein, I do think that Pupeeteer is underachieving hard. There just seem to be a lot of situations where we can't use it's social effectevly or at all, and I expect diminishing returns out of it.
I don't think Reflection and Shaper did shit so far. Nothing else to say there, sadly.
Overall, Glass is pretty poor thus far. I'm not sure if this is because we are not playing to it's strengths or because world fit is just too poor for it, but it's performance leaves a lot to be desired.
Let's see if we can do better once we get to League of Extraordinary Gentlemen knockoffs.
K von Carstein
Likes to go for a walk
- Location
- Belgium
- Pronouns
- He
That's Susan from Narnia, right?
Cool!
[X] Go With Them
- Location
- Poland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Go With Them
One day we'll come across a world, or a piece of a world, where being killy is less important than being pretty. Like some kind of quiet dystopia where we can't throw hands without having them torn apart. Then Webweaver's shaper and puppeteer will be worth it.
One day we'll come across a world, or a piece of a world, where being killy is less important than being pretty. Like some kind of quiet dystopia where we can't throw hands without having them torn apart. Then Webweaver's shaper and puppeteer will be worth it.