Once, on a typical Tuesday morning, I was sipping my coffee and peering over my cluttered desk at an ever-growing list of to-dos. It was a daunting sight, to say the least. I could feel the stress beginning to bubble up inside me. How was I going to manage all of this in a day?
Then I remembered something I'd read about time management and memory. The article encouraged me to associate tasks with personal memories or experiences. It sounded a bit silly, but I was desperate, and willing to try anything at this point to ensure I didn't miss out on anything on that monstrous list.
So I started to work through my list one task at a time. I had to call my client by 10 am to discuss a potential project. Now, how could I relate this to a memory? I thought back to the day when I was ten and my dad bought me my first wristwatch. The excitement of owning my first piece of 'grown-up' technology was immense, and it triggered a sense of responsibility in me. I was supposed to take care of it and use it wisely. Bingo! Calling my client was like my wristwatch - a responsibility I couldn't shirk!
Next, there was a meeting at 1 pm. For this, I thought back to high school and my favorite class, English Lit, which also happened to be at 1 pm. I never missed it, because I loved the subject and the teacher. So, I associated my meeting with that class – something significant that couldn’t be missed.
By the end of the day, I had managed to complete the entire list, an accomplishment that seemed impossible in the morning. And all of this was made easier by simply associating tasks with personal memories. Who'd have thought? After all, life’s a bit like a jigsaw puzzle, isn't it? We have all the pieces; we just need to figure out how to put them together in the best way possible.
P.S. Now I can hear your heartbeats thumping away, wondering, "Did this really happen?". Well, all I can say is, to quote a wise man once said, "Everything you read on the internet is true." Wink wink! But hey, if it makes life seem a tiny bit easier, why not give it a go? I mean, who hasn't been ten or had a favorite class, right? So go, apply the personal memory model in your daily life and let me know whether it works for you. Just remember, we're all great inventors of our own life! So, why not use some mental models while we're at it?

Despite the Western European-sounding name, Maison Alhambra is a part of Lattafa. While there are a handful of fragrances that both houses clone (e.g. Lattafa Fakhar Black and Maison Alhambra Yeah! are both clones of YSL Y), there isn’t much overlap between the two. Maison Alhambra tries to position itself as a better-quality version of Lattafa; their most popular clone lines are Tom Ford (who sued MA due to packaging similarity), Parfums de Marly, Louis Vuitton, and Carolina Herrera Exclusif. I had two of the Carolina Herrera fragrances, but traded them before I started writing reviews.
Overall, the average quality of the Maison Alhambra scents I tried is better than the average Lattafa. They’re still not going to be a 1:1 to the original, but are closer than other Middle Eastern clone houses. Maison Alhambra is among the better ME houses, but still pales in comparison to the popular American fragrance clone companies. However, they can usually be found for $20 - $30, which makes them possibly the best value Middle Eastern house.

Amber & Leather (Tom Ford Ombre Leather)

My first smell transported me to a Victorian-era men’s hunting lodge. The leather, spice, and light florals work perfectly together; I can’t stop smelling myself when I wear this. More reminiscent of a suit jacket than a leather jacket, but still great for a date night or casual night out with friends. 12+ hour performance.
Unfortunately, my 50^th and 100^th smells were identical to the first. The opening is in-your-face amber layered on top of leather, which is better in small doses than in large ones. It smells like Maison Alhambra prioritized longevity over making sure it was a scent you wanted to smell for 12 hours straight. I’m interested in smelling Ombre Leather to see if it has the same progression; if it does, Amber & Leather is better-made than I first thought.

Bright Peach (Tom Ford Bitter Peach)

If you like peach, you’ll like bitter peach. If you don’t like peach, I don’t know why you’d buy a fragrance with Peach in the name. Smells like you’re sitting in a circle in a hippie commune, sloppily eating a peach drizzled in honey; the drydown really amps up the patchouli and adds much-needed depth as the peach top note slowly fades. Well suited for spring through fall. Decent longevity. Slightly more masculine than Bitter Peach, which leans more feminine than I expected.

Cassius (Parfums de Marly Carlisle)

I read online that Cassius had a similar profile to “wet tobacco” scents like Maison Alhambra’s Excluisif Tabac (CH Mystery Tobacco) or Mancera Red Tobacco. I checked the notes, saw that Cassius didn’t contain tobacco, and wondered what those people were thinking. The base notes are patchouli and vanilla – how could it be similar? Then I got it, smelled it, and had to double-check that I didn’t miss a tobacco note somewhere. It smells like wet, sticky tobacco with some creamy tonka vanilla underneath. I find it more similar to tobacco scents like Exclusif Tabac than to other vanilla scents. If that’s a profile you like, I’d recommend Cassius, but it’s just not for me. Maybe I just don’t like patchouli.

Hercules (Parfums de Marly Herod)

Floral, smoky, woody spiced vanilla. It’s less in-your-face spice than Tobacco Touch and more refined and cohesive than Asad or Cassius. It gets more tobacco-heavy as it dries down, but the tobacco stays light and dry rather than sticky and overbearing. It’s an instant classic winter evening scent. Feels like it would pair well with a snifter of cognac. Begs for nice clothing; I feel wrong wearing it casually around the house and watching TV. The only downside is the ~3 hour performance. I love the scent but can’t justify having to respray three times per day. I like the scent more than similar tobacco-vanilla fragrances but will likely stick to Tobacco Touch, which lasts all day.

Perseus Exclusif (Parfums de Marly Pegasus Exclusif)

It opens beautifully, with spice from cardamom and pepper complemented by light florals sitting on top of rich vanilla. If it were a linear scent with only the top notes, I’d be happy. However, as it dries down, I’m less of a fan. The three (!) different types of woods (sandalwood, guaiac wood, and agarwood) combined with the powdery bitter almond take over. I’d call this a woody fragrance complemented by vanilla, the flip side of what I get from Detour Noir. It’s well-made and apparently very close to Pegasus Exclusif. Just not for me.

Porto Neroli (Tom Ford Neroli Portofino)

Porto Neroli smells like someone describing their time wearing Sperrys on the Amalfi coast. Also smells like your dad’s rich friend who won’t shut up about yachts, but I’ll let that slide since I love neroli so much. Citrus and light florals make this a hallmark summer freshie for the ~5-6 hours it lasts. Unfortunately, it has just too much of a sunscreen accord.
It captures the essence of a good citrusy aquatic summer scent, but is a bit synthetic and doesn’t have good depth. I wasn’t expecting a 1:1 of Tom Ford for $20, but after getting a decant of the OG, I don’t see myself reaching for Porto Neroli again.

Tobacco Touch (Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille)

The first clone I got that I couldn’t stop smelling throughout the day; so good it almost made me take up smoking an old-timey tobacco pipe. Strong tobacco and intense clove and cinnamon fade into creamy vanilla and tonka, still complemented by the spice of the tobacco. The heavy spice makes it smell like Christmas without overwhelming the scent; appropriate for the dead of winter. Sweet without being too gourmand; spicy without being too earthy. Smells like a Prohibition-era speakeasy. 12+ hour longevity and decent projection for a winter scent.
Leans more on the spice notes than other similar fragrances, both other clones of Tobacco Vanille and other tobacco vanilla scents. A top pick among the $20 Middle Eastern clone house offerings, especially in the dead of winter. For any other time than Christmas day, it’s outclassed by higher quality clone houses.

Toscano Leather (Tom Ford Tuscan Leather)

Leather, leather and more leather. Smells like the inside of a leather shop. There are other notes listed on Fragrantica, but I secretly suspect that they are all code names for leather. I didn’t pick up any raspberry and scrubbed it off after 30 minutes of being surrounded by an aura of pure leather.

This happened about an hour ago and my husband is still silently angry at me. It’s triggering my PTSD at the moment due to childhood trauma so I would like some outside opinions on if I was wrong, as well as how I should approach this conversation.
My husband and I were out shopping for gifts to a mutual friend’s baby shower that’s this weekend. In the checkout line, he saw a sign about Father’s Day coming up and asked if it had already passed. I told him no, it’s the 16th, and he sighed with relief then said “oh thank God I still have like 2 weeks then.” I corrected him and said, “no, you have about 9 days since today is the 7th, and it’s next weekend.” Then re-explained the math to him since my birthday is the 14th, a week away, and Father’s Day is 2 days after that, the same weekend.
Cue panic mode for my husband. He began looking up gifts on Amazon, talking about how he “didn’t know how he was going to top the last gift he got his dad.” It was a Christmas gift, a signed football by his dad’s favorite football player. He said how it was a competition between his siblings about who would get his dad the best gift every year. I laughed, asked if it was actually a competition or if it was just him being too competitive (it’s an issue he has). He said no and it’s been an ongoing thing for about 4 years now since a Father’s Day when he bragged a bunch about the gift he got their dad and it spawned from there.
We’d sat down at the in store cafe to order drinks, I go up to the counter and order while he watched the cart. When I got back he was still debating out loud about what to get his dad. Loudly, I might add. All he kept saying over and over again was, “I just don’t know what to get him. I don’t know how I’m going to top the last gift I got him. I have to get something amazing to top the Christmas gift.” This is when I finally snapped, because I was standing a bit away looking at some stuff, and said, “I don’t know what you should get your dad, but I’m probably not the right person to be complaining about this to.”
My dad died last year two days after Father’s Day. It hasn’t even been a full year yet. We had a difficult and complicated relationship. So when some of my friends had asked me what I had gotten my dad for Father’s Day on the actual day, I replied with, “if I got him anything, it would be a fifth of Jim Beam and I would tell him to ‘finish the job,’” because he was dying of liver failure from years of alcoholism. Jim Beam was his drink of choice. This is something I haven’t told anyone close to me, only myself and the friend from that conversation know I said it. It’s something that’s been eating me alive since my dad died because it was like I predicted his death, I put it out into the universe and was punished for it.
After I snapped, my husband got quiet and hasn’t really spoken to me since. We drove to another store and he walked in front of me the entire time, barely said anything to me. Once we got home, he went into our guest room/his gaming room and has been playing video games with his buddies. Hasn’t spoken to me at all. AITAH?

The ship drifted out from the shadow of the moon like a polite and unobtrusive wraith. Languidly slipping through the void like a Great White shark. Its stealth tech was not actively engaged but it didn’t need to be. The ship was sleek in its form. Every inch was built with the intention of not being noticed. Long graceful lines made it look more like a work of art than a stealth ship. At least in a hanger or dock where lights could be used to illuminate it for visual inspection. In space it was a hyper glossy black that reflected the starlight in such a way that looking at it in space was akin to watching an invisible bubble that warped the light of the stars around it. Easily missed with the naked eye. In stealth mode it truly was invisible. Due to its “Phase Drift” technology. With just a few points out of phase from this dimension the ship would effectively be undetectable in every way. And it could just park there, in space, silently watching all that transpires.
In combat it can drift from one phase to another in a tenth of a second. A common tactic for this vessel was to position itself, phase into existence, fire its one and only weapon and then phase away before it could be noticed. Rinse and repeat until all targets are eliminated. Its one weapon used phase shifting modulation to bypass any type of protective energy shielding.
The sight of the weapon itself was not overly impressive or even intimidating, being small enough to be man portable with only two people needed to transport by hand. It didn’t need to be intimidating or impressive and was not built to be so.
It fired a beam of sorts, about as thin as a human finger. Its effective range was limited to close range as the galactic standard goes. About the distance from the earths surface to the surface to the moon. But it was hyper accurate and what it actually did to the target was horrific. Anything that came in contact with the beam had the intersecting matter randomly scattered one to twelve points out of phase on a molecular scale. Imagine having a finger thick hole suddenly appearing through an entire ship in a straight line. Massive decompression throughout the ship and every system in its path from engines to power plants to computer systems and even living tissues disrupted. A single shot could trigger a massive melt down of a power plant or simply vent the entire ship killing everything not already in a pressure suit. Size of the target was irrelevant as was speed, armor or weapon array. All this one weapon need was an angle.
The ship ran a sense pulse through the web of sensors cast like a net around this world. Nothing out of the ordinary on planet or in the vicinity.
The ship had a pilot, of sorts. Granted nothing of the human physical form was left, but, still. The pilot name and designation was Wraith42. He was an experiment left over from an extinct race. A last parting gift from the victim of murder to their murderer.
Wraith42 ran a diagnostic on the sensory array encircling the planet. Thousands of sensors the size of a football, all networked together and all scanning the surface of the planet and the surrounding space. All clear. No anomalies in the surface. No digital communications or signals of any kind detected. Wraith 42 had installed the sensor net himself after assigning himself to this planet. When he arrived there was an armada protecting the system. A prime world and six other colonies on various bodies throughout this system. Wraith42 hung at the edge of the system phased so as to be invisible and undetectable. He sent communications reports and requests through the Wraith network referred to as "The Underworld" and in three days six more wraiths and an industrial drone were onsite. The Wraith ships coalesced a plan in nanoseconds and silently executed it. in a days time on this alien world the entire armada was drifting in space, lifeless. All lifeforms not in evacuation craft or space suites having suffocated in the vacuum as the Wraith guns perforated the ship in devastating locations. Those that were in suites or evacuation craft were targeted directly. Indiscriminately. Hatefully. Care was taken to only eliminate the biological and leave the technology functional. After the threat in space and in orbit was dealt with the Wraiths gathered in orbit and began to strike at targets on the worlds surface. They targeted every detectable piece of digital technology. If it had a chip in it or stored memory, it was destroyed. The planet was literally kicked out of the information age, all the way back to the industrial age.
When they were done after nearly a decade of scan and destroy, they moved on to the colonies in the system. giving them their undivided attention. Each colony was rendered to basic survival priority. All space stations were destroyed and any inhabitants exterminated. Once this was done the Wraiths positioned and activated the industrial drone. The drone sent out a kiloton of NANITES into the hulks of the armada, now dormant in this system and the NANITES went to their task with a mindless determination. The materials that he armada was constructed of were quickly separated and reformed into advanced sensor arrays the size of a soccer ball. Thousands upon thousands of them. Each used to help create a web around the prime planet and its colonies.
Then it was just us traversing back and fourth as the sensors were positioned and initiated and connected. Repetitious and boring.
Wraith42 let his AI mind review the past that made his kind possible. The day the order was made. The day “operation Spiteful Dragon” went into effect. He replayed the Presidents’ final order on the holovid. Her tearful state of the union address where she was somberly saying how the scientists could not find a cure for the plague but that they did find markers in its DNA. It was a tailored virus, constructed by the ones we thought were our allies on the galactic council. Wraith42 remembered that day, when he had his body. Frail as it was it was his, and it was whole. But, the program. The program started with training in an isolated and secret location. A cored out asteroid in long orbit. The training was intense. They concentrated on the mind as the body wouldn't be needed. That's why we were chosen. Smart but cripple. And what they promised, OH what they promised was a dream come true to us all. We the cripples, the lame, the drains on society. We the useless. They promised us that we could travel through space and be truly free. Months and months in training and preparation with the other "limp lords" as we called ourselves. Two hundred of us, good times. The camaraderie that developed amongst us was a high point in all of our lives. Something we cherished and maintained long after we were “converted”.
And then the presidents announcement changed everything. Betrayal, greed. A trusted ally created a virus tailored for humans only. They wanted our trade empire and resources and our territories. They had power and influence in the council and paid their cronies and their peers to look the other way and even ignore us when we had the proof of who poisoned us. Uncaring. All that they saw was the Human wealth that would get divided up between them all. Greed and indifference.
So the president spoke on the holonets for the last time.
"We know beyond a shadow of a doubt who made the virus and how it was deployed against us..."
"...know that the council is indifferent and obviously paid off to look the other way..."
"...and they also plan to divide up the legacy of the human race amongst themselves. Just look away and let the extinction happen..."
"...virus is the most contagious and pervasive..."
"...no cure possible in the time we have left…"
Here it comes…
"...So I will ask my fellow human beings…"
The devils bargain…
"Do not go gently into that good night. Rise with me and rage one last time in defiance and let's make sure that the human legacy they seek turns into their nightmare and their doom…"
and this next part is where the devil shat himself.
"...My brothers and sisters. Turn Everything into a weapon. Automate it. Make it autonomous. Give it a psychopath AI and put it to sleep to wait for the next to awaken it. Booby trap it. Set the worst pathogens we have to trapped release. If it can be made to self destruct then booby trap it. Join me in my rage…"
And this part is where we come in…Where Satan and all his little demons wept in fear.
"...and if you are part of, or run a secret government or corporation project that no one knows about then listen up. if you have had no contact with anyone for the past 2 months then you are safe as long as you keep isolated and stay that way for the rest of your lives. The virus is pretty much everywhere now and it can become dormant indefinitely, until human DNA comes into contact with it.
I ask only this on behalf of the whole human race. Avenge us! Whatever you are working on, whatever you are developing. change its purpose and use it to avenge us...make them fear us even in our extinction."
So, our little project of developing an FTL /Phase Drift all purpose transport by taking incurable cripples and "blending" them into ships as pilots, died that day. What was born in its place was an unholy hatred. A vile abomination set loose on the galaxy. Instead of super taxis and truckers, now they get true nightmares. No caring, no sympathy, no compassion and no remorse. Just cold and empty determination fueled by the chilled hatred of a psychopath AI.
So our ships became stealth and cargo space became sensor and ecm/eccm suites and comfortable passenger lounges became high performance power reactors and extra engine space. We were supposed to be stripped of our bodies and our brains put into a nutrient gel and given an IA to assist us in all we were to do. That changed. When the President sent her last message the “Limp Lords” gathered together with the medical and engineering staff and had a meeting. After a week of collaboration we came to a mutual decision. The “limp Lords” voted unanimously to become instruments of vengeance. To take on the mantle of rage on behalf of the human race. We voted to forgo the surgeries needed to strip us of our broken and useless bodies and incorporate our brains into a ship that would serve a useful contribution to our fellow man. Instead we chose to become sacrifices. We chose to pattern the AI with our personalities and memories. The AI was reprogramed to strip away all guilt or remorse. All ethics or morality were switched to only apply to humans. So our brains were extensively mapped and I mean extensively. Then that map was blended into the psychopath AI. We became one and just shy of immortal by a hairs breadth.
Two years passed since the presidents last broadcast. Two years of watching the news vids of the virus ravaging the human race. Bringing us to our knees then grounding us into dust. Two years of the galactic council giving us lip-service and denying the validity of proof we had that shows the mastermind behind the virus. Irrefutable, inarguable proof. Two years of rage watching the Galactic Council farce unfold. Then the final blending of our mind maps and the AI. "Limp Lords" we were no more. We started calling ourselves the Wraiths. Once the blending was verified as successful we were put to sleep with one request. When next we wake, have fun. Lots of fun!”
When we woke it was to alarms of intruders entering our system. Quick analyzation revealed them to be the galactic armada come to quash the last of the human race; there were only a few handfuls left.
We found the ship was an extension of our thoughts. Our bodies darting through space. It was exhilarating and terrifying. The twelve battleships and small fleet of salvage ships never understood what hit them. The first time I fired the one and only weapon I had I nearly passed out in shock. It was so erotic a sensation it was visceral. Firing the weapon for the first time also made me intimately familiar with the weapon as well. All its capabilities and limitations permanently imprinted into my being.
We finished the intruders then searched the system. ghosts and shadows of a home now dead. So we went hunting. a few stayed in system to await the greedy stragglers but the rest of us, we had a taste for blood. We had massive amounts of intel on all the galactic members. Common knowledge but still enough to start on. And start we did. Each of us would pick a race that was in on it or simply stood by, then look up their home world and travel there. Destroy every living thing in the system all while monitoring communications traffic to ascertain other locations involved. Track them down and repeat the process until the species is extinct. Do this until the only intelligent races left in the galaxy that were part of the galactic empire were of the indentured status. The “slaves” of the empire. Those we left in peace so long as they kept clear of us. But the one species that held all the power in the Galactic Empire, the supreme leaders own species; To them we gave a more special punishment. Destroy everything of them except their home system. bring them down to industrial age and keep them there until the last star falls from the heavens. Basically a year past eternity. Stuck there. Can't leave. Can't progress. Can't grow. A long death from stagnancy.
A ping of an incoming craft alerted Wraith42 bringing him out of his reverie instantly.
It hung there like a black spearhead in the void. It sent a pulse on a phased frequency and Wraith42 unphazed into normal space.
Wraith 42 sent a handshake and it was accepted. Wraith found himself in a bar and grill on a beach at night time sipping on a dark beer and watching the waves crash in the full moon light. A woman in a bikini sat at the bar next to him. She used to be a quadriplegic, all frail and limp and rolling around in her mobility chair. Now she was gorgeous and lively.
"You always use this V-location. Was this real place?" Wraith12 asked.
"They used to roll me up in my wheelchair right there at that table. I would sketch and drink beer all day long. Bartender would slide me a joint every now and then. He was my hippie brother in law. A good friend. Beer was free too. Best memories I have outside of the “limp Lords” are here."
Wraith12 went behind the bar and made herself a tequila sunrise. Coming around the bar she spoke as she sat down at the table with Wraith42.
"Remember the facility that made us?"
"Not easy to forget that but yeah, go on"
She stared out at the waves before speaking. Her face scandinavian and even though she looked 18 and in the prime of youth she still showed the extensive scars all along her spine under the bikini. I adjusted the direction of my chair to face her more.
"Apparently, our research labs had a sister research team in the company as well and they have been working at a secret lab in a rock in the ort cloud of the Sol system. They are geneticists and have been working on the virus issue and they say they have a work-a-round, not a cure, but a work-a-round."
"And how did you come by this info" I already knew the answer but I wanted to hear it from her directly. She was self assigned to the SOL system after all.
I found them by accident while doing my duty shift and once I learned that they were human I initiated contact. they were rather surprised by what I was but after I told them my project ID they filled me in. They say that they can re-populate the human population with enough time but they won't be purely human. More like a blend or hybrid."
"Did you tell them the galaxy is theirs now? No Rush."
"Not yet. I had a thought I wanted to run by you." Wraith12 looked out to the ocean. “You’re the leader after all. You think this species we are jailing will ever change?"
I smirked and took a pull of dark beer. "I watch them when I am bored. Even now they are all about the plots and machinations. They are not really violent out in the open but they are all back alley poisoners and cut throats. I don't ever see them changing."
Wraith12 looked at me directly. "So lets stop with the jailer thing and help our race take the stars again. forget the past. lets build a future. We are damn near eternal in this state. Think of the advantage we would have with wraith tech around. AND this time. No one fucks with the humans!"
I couldn't argue with that. We purged the system of intelligent life, Indulging ourselves artistically as we went. With the help of NANITE arrays we left behind horrors for any who would land on this planet. Regardless of gender or age, we killed. NANITES making statues of half rotted corpses in sick parades of morbid art depicting the most vile and appalling of acts. Then the NANITES would mineralize them in that state. Effectively making them fossilized statues bent to the artistic dreams of the truly insane. And as an afterthought, before we left and made our way back to the SOL system we destabilized the ecosystem. In a decades time the planet would be a lifeless husk. Oh, the abhorrent and insanity inducing art we left in our wake. May it last an eternity!
Back in the SOL system all my brothers and sisters were there already. The plans to build new worlds and wonders were in full swing. We vowed to guard the new human race for as long as we could. But our warning to any who rise in power in this galaxy ever again, is thus.
We are the Wraiths, guardians of Humanity.
We are the monsters of your darkest nightmares.
We are abominations to creation.
We are anathema to existence, the living dead of the past made to be the weapons of the future.
We are always watching.
We never sleep.
And we still rage!
We still hate!

The ship drifted out from the shadow of the moon like a polite and unobtrusive wraith. Languidly slipping through the void like a Great White shark. Its stealth tech was not actively engaged but it didn’t need to be. The ship was sleek in its form. Every inch was built with the intention of not being noticed. Long graceful lines made it look more like a work of art than a stealth ship. At least in a hanger or dock where lights could be used to illuminate it for visual inspection. In space it was a hyper glossy black that reflected the starlight in such a way that looking at it in space was akin to watching an invisible bubble that warped the light of the stars around it. Easily missed with the naked eye. In stealth mode it truly was invisible. Due to its “Phase Drift” technology. With just a few points out of phase from this dimension the ship would effectively be undetectable in every way. And it could just park there, in space, silently watching all that transpires.
In combat it can drift from one phase to another in a tenth of a second. A common tactic for this vessel was to position itself, phase into existence, fire its one and only weapon and then phase away before it could be noticed. Rinse and repeat until all targets are eliminated. Its one weapon used phase shifting modulation to bypass any type of protective energy shielding.
The sight of the weapon itself was not overly impressive or even intimidating, being small enough to be man portable with only two people needed to transport by hand. It didn’t need to be intimidating or impressive and was not built to be so.
It fired a beam of sorts, about as thin as a human finger. Its effective range was limited to close range as the galactic standard goes. About the distance from the earths surface to the surface to the moon. But it was hyper accurate and what it actually did to the target was horrific. Anything that came in contact with the beam had the intersecting matter randomly scattered one to twelve points out of phase on a molecular scale. Imagine having a finger thick hole suddenly appearing through an entire ship in a straight line. Massive decompression throughout the ship and every system in its path from engines to power plants to computer systems and even living tissues disrupted. A single shot could trigger a massive melt down of a power plant or simply vent the entire ship killing everything not already in a pressure suit. Size of the target was irrelevant as was speed, armor or weapon array. All this one weapon need was an angle.
The ship ran a sense pulse through the web of sensors cast like a net around this world. Nothing out of the ordinary on planet or in the vicinity.
The ship had a pilot, of sorts. Granted nothing of the human physical form was left, but, still. The pilot name and designation was Wraith42. He was an experiment left over from an extinct race. A last parting gift from the victim of murder to their murderer.
Wraith42 ran a diagnostic on the sensory array encircling the planet. Thousands of sensors the size of a football, all networked together and all scanning the surface of the planet and the surrounding space. All clear. No anomalies in the surface. No digital communications or signals of any kind detected. Wraith 42 had installed the sensor net himself after assigning himself to this planet. When he arrived there was an armada protecting the system. A prime world and six other colonies on various bodies throughout this system. Wraith42 hung at the edge of the system phased so as to be invisible and undetectable. He sent communications reports and requests through the Wraith network referred to as "The Underworld" and in three days six more wraiths and an industrial drone were onsite. The Wraith ships coalesced a plan in nanoseconds and silently executed it. in a days time on this alien world the entire armada was drifting in space, lifeless. All lifeforms not in evacuation craft or space suites having suffocated in the vacuum as the Wraith guns perforated the ship in devastating locations. Those that were in suites or evacuation craft were targeted directly. Indiscriminately. Hatefully. Care was taken to only eliminate the biological and leave the technology functional. After the threat in space and in orbit was dealt with the Wraiths gathered in orbit and began to strike at targets on the worlds surface. They targeted every detectable piece of digital technology. If it had a chip in it or stored memory, it was destroyed. The planet was literally kicked out of the information age, all the way back to the industrial age.
When they were done after nearly a decade of scan and destroy, they moved on to the colonies in the system. giving them their undivided attention. Each colony was rendered to basic survival priority. All space stations were destroyed and any inhabitants exterminated. Once this was done the Wraiths positioned and activated the industrial drone. The drone sent out a kiloton of NANITES into the hulks of the armada, now dormant in this system and the NANITES went to their task with a mindless determination. The materials that he armada was constructed of were quickly separated and reformed into advanced sensor arrays the size of a soccer ball. Thousands upon thousands of them. Each used to help create a web around the prime planet and its colonies.
Then it was just us traversing back and fourth as the sensors were positioned and initiated and connected. Repetitious and boring.
Wraith42 let his AI mind review the past that made his kind possible. The day the order was made. The day “operation Spiteful Dragon” went into effect. He replayed the Presidents’ final order on the holovid. Her tearful state of the union address where she was somberly saying how the scientists could not find a cure for the plague but that they did find markers in its DNA. It was a tailored virus, constructed by the ones we thought were our allies on the galactic council. Wraith42 remembered that day, when he had his body. Frail as it was it was his, and it was whole. But, the program. The program started with training in an isolated and secret location. A cored out asteroid in long orbit. The training was intense. They concentrated on the mind as the body wouldn't be needed. That's why we were chosen. Smart but cripple. And what they promised, OH what they promised was a dream come true to us all. We the cripples, the lame, the drains on society. We the useless. They promised us that we could travel through space and be truly free. Months and months in training and preparation with the other "limp lords" as we called ourselves. Two hundred of us, good times. The camaraderie that developed amongst us was a high point in all of our lives. Something we cherished and maintained long after we were “converted”.
And then the presidents announcement changed everything. Betrayal, greed. A trusted ally created a virus tailored for humans only. They wanted our trade empire and resources and our territories. They had power and influence in the council and paid their cronies and their peers to look the other way and even ignore us when we had the proof of who poisoned us. Uncaring. All that they saw was the Human wealth that would get divided up between them all. Greed and indifference.
So the president spoke on the holonets for the last time.
"We know beyond a shadow of a doubt who made the virus and how it was deployed against us..."
"...know that the council is indifferent and obviously paid off to look the other way..."
"...and they also plan to divide up the legacy of the human race amongst themselves. Just look away and let the extinction happen..."
"...virus is the most contagious and pervasive..."
"...no cure possible in the time we have left…"
Here it comes…
"...So I will ask my fellow human beings…"
The devils bargain…
"Do not go gently into that good night. Rise with me and rage one last time in defiance and let's make sure that the human legacy they seek turns into their nightmare and their doom…"
and this next part is where the devil shat himself.
"...My brothers and sisters. Turn Everything into a weapon. Automate it. Make it autonomous. Give it a psychopath AI and put it to sleep to wait for the next to awaken it. Booby trap it. Set the worst pathogens we have to trapped release. If it can be made to self destruct then booby trap it. Join me in my rage…"
And this part is where we come in…Where Satan and all his little demons wept in fear.
"...and if you are part of, or run a secret government or corporation project that no one knows about then listen up. if you have had no contact with anyone for the past 2 months then you are safe as long as you keep isolated and stay that way for the rest of your lives. The virus is pretty much everywhere now and it can become dormant indefinitely, until human DNA comes into contact with it.
I ask only this on behalf of the whole human race. Avenge us! Whatever you are working on, whatever you are developing. change its purpose and use it to avenge us...make them fear us even in our extinction."
So, our little project of developing an FTL /Phase Drift all purpose transport by taking incurable cripples and "blending" them into ships as pilots, died that day. What was born in its place was an unholy hatred. A vile abomination set loose on the galaxy. Instead of super taxis and truckers, now they get true nightmares. No caring, no sympathy, no compassion and no remorse. Just cold and empty determination fueled by the chilled hatred of a psychopath AI.
So our ships became stealth and cargo space became sensor and ecm/eccm suites and comfortable passenger lounges became high performance power reactors and extra engine space. We were supposed to be stripped of our bodies and our brains put into a nutrient gel and given an IA to assist us in all we were to do. That changed. When the President sent her last message the “Limp Lords” gathered together with the medical and engineering staff and had a meeting. After a week of collaboration we came to a mutual decision. The “limp Lords” voted unanimously to become instruments of vengeance. To take on the mantle of rage on behalf of the human race. We voted to forgo the surgeries needed to strip us of our broken and useless bodies and incorporate our brains into a ship that would serve a useful contribution to our fellow man. Instead we chose to become sacrifices. We chose to pattern the AI with our personalities and memories. The AI was reprogramed to strip away all guilt or remorse. All ethics or morality were switched to only apply to humans. So our brains were extensively mapped and I mean extensively. Then that map was blended into the psychopath AI. We became one and just shy of immortal by a hairs breadth.
Two years passed since the presidents last broadcast. Two years of watching the news vids of the virus ravaging the human race. Bringing us to our knees then grounding us into dust. Two years of the galactic council giving us lip-service and denying the validity of proof we had that shows the mastermind behind the virus. Irrefutable, inarguable proof. Two years of rage watching the Galactic Council farce unfold. Then the final blending of our mind maps and the AI. "Limp Lords" we were no more. We started calling ourselves the Wraiths. Once the blending was verified as successful we were put to sleep with one request. When next we wake, have fun. Lots of fun!”
When we woke it was to alarms of intruders entering our system. Quick analyzation revealed them to be the galactic armada come to quash the last of the human race; there were only a few handfuls left.
We found the ship was an extension of our thoughts. Our bodies darting through space. It was exhilarating and terrifying. The twelve battleships and small fleet of salvage ships never understood what hit them. The first time I fired the one and only weapon I had I nearly passed out in shock. It was so erotic a sensation it was visceral. Firing the weapon for the first time also made me intimately familiar with the weapon as well. All its capabilities and limitations permanently imprinted into my being.
We finished the intruders then searched the system. ghosts and shadows of a home now dead. So we went hunting. a few stayed in system to await the greedy stragglers but the rest of us, we had a taste for blood. We had massive amounts of intel on all the galactic members. Common knowledge but still enough to start on. And start we did. Each of us would pick a race that was in on it or simply stood by, then look up their home world and travel there. Destroy every living thing in the system all while monitoring communications traffic to ascertain other locations involved. Track them down and repeat the process until the species is extinct. Do this until the only intelligent races left in the galaxy that were part of the galactic empire were of the indentured status. The “slaves” of the empire. Those we left in peace so long as they kept clear of us. But the one species that held all the power in the Galactic Empire, the supreme leaders own species; To them we gave a more special punishment. Destroy everything of them except their home system. bring them down to industrial age and keep them there until the last star falls from the heavens. Basically a year past eternity. Stuck there. Can't leave. Can't progress. Can't grow. A long death from stagnancy.
A ping of an incoming craft alerted Wraith42 bringing him out of his reverie instantly.
It hung there like a black spearhead in the void. It sent a pulse on a phased frequency and Wraith42 unphazed into normal space.
Wraith 42 sent a handshake and it was accepted. Wraith found himself in a bar and grill on a beach at night time sipping on a dark beer and watching the waves crash in the full moon light. A woman in a bikini sat at the bar next to him. She used to be a quadriplegic, all frail and limp and rolling around in her mobility chair. Now she was gorgeous and lively.
"You always use this V-location. Was this real place?" Wraith12 asked.
"They used to roll me up in my wheelchair right there at that table. I would sketch and drink beer all day long. Bartender would slide me a joint every now and then. He was my hippie brother in law. A good friend. Beer was free too. Best memories I have outside of the “limp Lords” are here."
Wraith12 went behind the bar and made herself a tequila sunrise. Coming around the bar she spoke as she sat down at the table with Wraith42.
"Remember the facility that made us?"
"Not easy to forget that but yeah, go on"
She stared out at the waves before speaking. Her face scandinavian and even though she looked 18 and in the prime of youth she still showed the extensive scars all along her spine under the bikini. I adjusted the direction of my chair to face her more.
"Apparently, our research labs had a sister research team in the company as well and they have been working at a secret lab in a rock in the ort cloud of the Sol system. They are geneticists and have been working on the virus issue and they say they have a work-a-round, not a cure, but a work-a-round."
"And how did you come by this info" I already knew the answer but I wanted to hear it from her directly. She was self assigned to the SOL system after all.
I found them by accident while doing my duty shift and once I learned that they were human I initiated contact. they were rather surprised by what I was but after I told them my project ID they filled me in. They say that they can re-populate the human population with enough time but they won't be purely human. More like a blend or hybrid."
"Did you tell them the galaxy is theirs now? No Rush."
"Not yet. I had a thought I wanted to run by you." Wraith12 looked out to the ocean. “You’re the leader after all. You think this species we are jailing will ever change?"
I smirked and took a pull of dark beer. "I watch them when I am bored. Even now they are all about the plots and machinations. They are not really violent out in the open but they are all back alley poisoners and cut throats. I don't ever see them changing."
Wraith12 looked at me directly. "So lets stop with the jailer thing and help our race take the stars again. forget the past. lets build a future. We are damn near eternal in this state. Think of the advantage we would have with wraith tech around. AND this time. No one fucks with the humans!"
I couldn't argue with that. We purged the system of intelligent life, Indulging ourselves artistically as we went. With the help of NANITE arrays we left behind horrors for any who would land on this planet. Regardless of gender or age, we killed. NANITES making statues of half rotted corpses in sick parades of morbid art depicting the most vile and appalling of acts. Then the NANITES would mineralize them in that state. Effectively making them fossilized statues bent to the artistic dreams of the truly insane. And as an afterthought, before we left and made our way back to the SOL system we destabilized the ecosystem. In a decades time the planet would be a lifeless husk. Oh, the abhorrent and insanity inducing art we left in our wake. May it last an eternity!
Back in the SOL system all my brothers and sisters were there already. The plans to build new worlds and wonders were in full swing. We vowed to guard the new human race for as long as we could. But our warning to any who rise in power in this galaxy ever again, is thus.
We are the Wraiths, guardians of Humanity.
We are the monsters of your darkest nightmares.
We are abominations to creation.
We are anathema to existence, the living dead of the past made to be the weapons of the future.
We are always watching.
We never sleep.
And we still rage!
We still hate!

Johnny Rodz vs. Bill White: Edited out. Johnny Rodz pinned Bill White at 11:30 with a stomp from the middle rope after White failed a dropkick attempt
Mike Paidousis vs. Jack Evans: Edited out. Mike Paidousis pinned Jack Evans at 6 minutes with a kneedrop after Evans ran into the ropes when Paidousis moved out of the way
Hans Schroeder & Joe Nova vs. Manuel Soto & Pete Sanchez: Edited out. Manuel Soto & Pete Sanchez defeated Joe Nova & Hans Schroeder at 22 minutes in a Best 2 out of 3 falls match. Glad I missed all three of these undercard matches.
Chief Jay Strongbow vs. Butcher Vachon: Strongbow was billed as Indian Jay Strongbow by the ring announcer and the graphic text but Vince McMahon rightfully called him Chief. I always had problems taking Butcher Vachon seriously because his look is not unique at all. His heel work was basic in this match. Took a while to get going. Strongbow's physique had started to go. He once again did the crisscross rope spot to start the match and all of his other signature moves. I liked the finish: Vachon actually cut off Strongbow's comeback and could have pinned him if he hadn't pulled his hair and broken the count. (The referee was hesitant.) He whipped Jay into the ropes, who countered with a Thesz Press for the quick 3 count in 9 minutes So Butcher was somewhat protected in his loss. Fans liked this match a lot.
Bruno Sammartino (c) vs. Spiros Arion: One would need to see the TV and previous encounter(s?) to fully appreciate this Texas Death Match (very bad ring announcing again). Arion had backstabbed his friend Bruno and this was a huge draw. This was a back and forth 15 minute brawl. I wasn't impressed with Arion. It seems like anyone could have had his role. I guess you just had to be there to see if he was indeed a good partner with Bruno to set up the turn. The fans were white hot in this match although my audio was a bit lower due to the tape quality. Bruno showed full crowd control where just a mere glance before a stomp was electric. The finish had Bruno covering Arion after a bodyslam (!) but the ref (whom Vince had named previously, something Older Vince made rules against) missed Arion's foot on the bottom rope. Fans didn't mind that Bruno stole a victory. I guess this set up a rematch.
Killer Kowalski vs. Victor Rivera: Kowalski wrestled like how I imagine Frankenstein's Monster would have. Kowalski was 48 years old here and looked older. His knee and stomach claws were weak but Rivera sold for them. Seemed like a time filler. Indeed, this match was 16 minutes. Kowalski bumped more than I had expected he would. Rivera wasn't able to be flashy too much as he was grounded by Kowalski's lame knee claw, which looked like he was simply laying hands on him like a priest. The finish was lame as well, after trading bites the referee disqualified Kowalski. Fans liked this match but they didn't have much too cheer about with Kowalski controlling the match. His stomps looked better than his matwork. Kowalski at least moved around but this match was putting me to sleep outside of one sequence where Rivera dropkicked Killer.
Ivan Putski vs. The Wolfman: The beefy muscular Putski showed off his crowd control with his ethnic populist gimmick. He wasn't taken off his feet in this match although Wolfman used illegal gouging. Wolfman was biting and pulling Ivan's mouth but was not disqualified unlike Kowalski. Ivan at least used his strength by hammering Wolfman, but his mobility and selling weren't there. The finish came after 10 minutes with a bearhug. Ivan didn't release it because the bell didn't ring. He drank a cup of beer to celebrate. I don't feel Putski even had the basics down as a wrestler but he sure had charisma, although he was too egotistical and selfish for my tastes. He's not a pure babyface in my book, he's rough and mean.
The Valiant Brothers (c) vs. Dean Ho & Tony Garea: What a hidden gem (and rare match to find since it was edited out of Classics/Peacock). This match was fast paced, 50/50, exciting, had plenty of bumping and actual wrestling, great timing, and the fans were ready for the title change. 2/3 falls curfew match. First fall was a quick 2 minutes, with Garea throwing Johnny off the top rope even though he wasn't the legal man. 2nd fall was a flash sunset flip pin by Johnny Valiant at 4 minutes. The third fall- around 8 minutes- ended in a curfew draw. Every time I see Garea in the 70s and early 80s I am impressed with his tag work and technical skill for the WWWF because he has an NWA style. He's probably the best wrestler in most WWWF years. He must be frustrated that other babyfaces could just punch and kick their way to the top. Jimmy Valiant was great here, and living proof he was actually a good wrestler before he lived The Boogie Woogie Man gimmick. I loved the way the near falls at the end were teasing a freak title change right before curfew. Old school wrestlers must have realized how powerful an effect near falls had on the audience, but unlike today they did not spam them in every match out of fear of crowd burn out.
Conclusions: Ironically it was the curfew match that really made me happy. It was just an amazing tag match. The Valiants had great heat and Garea and Ho had great chemistry. The fans were happy with the babyfaces going over in the bulk of this card, but the in-ring work was mostly subpar. I'm sure the Bruno match was the highlight for NYC fans.

Long story short. My dad passed away a couple of weeks ago. I was put in a whirlwind of emotions. Last week we had the funeral, then a day later the video for Ratatata came on my YouTube feed randomly. Checked it out and was floored.
I immediately then saw a live version of BABYMETAL DEATH and I was instantly hooked. I've been listening to them non-stop now since then. They kinda helped me get out of a weird funk. I just can't explain how happy they make me when I listen to them.
So I hope to get into all the lore and any advice on where to start would be appreciated. I really wish I found out about them earlier, but I'm glad I finally did.

At the world’s top college of magic and technology, every day brings a new discovery -and a new disaster. The advanced experiments of the college students tend to be both ambitious and apocalyptic, with the end of the world only prevented by a mysterious time loop, and a small handful of students who retain their memories.
Surviving the loops was hard enough, but now, in his senior year, Vell Harlan must take charge of them, and deal with the fact that the whole world now knows his secrets. Everyone knows about Vell’s death and resurrection, along with the divine game he is a part of. Now Vell must contend with overly curious scientists and evil billionaires hungry for divine power while the daily doomsday cycle bombards him with terrorists, talking elephants, and the Grim Reaper himself -but if he can endure it all, the Last Goddess’s game promises the ultimate prize: power over life itself.
[Previous Chapter][Patreon][Cover Art]
Vell blasted through the tentacle of another shoggoth, and kept running before the limb reformed. While the creatures were gelatinous enough that bullets wouldn’t normally harm them, they were so poorly held together that the sharp impact of a bullet splattered their limbs into puddles. The membranous masses would reform eventually, but Vell only needed a few seconds to slip by.
After running past another manufactured shoggoth, Vell examined his options. He was really glad he had taken Helena’s advice and read the supervillain guide more thoroughly, as it contained one indispensable piece of advice: the superweapon was always up. No matter how labyrinthine the underwater fortress became, all Vell had to do was look for a way up. He found a staircase and headed up, hoping this one would finally be the last one.
For once, his prayers were answered. Vell stepped up, slammed open a door, and looked up at a dome of water above.
“Hey! Don’t just go around slamming doors open, this is a submarine!”
Mi Go was standing atop a platform next to a large beam weapon—presumably the very same one that had mutated Vell on the previous loop—and was shouting down at Vell.
“You could have flooded my entire base!”
“You’re the one who built it that way,” Vell said.
“I had to!”
“I know, it’s in chapter five,” Vell said. Every supervillain had to build at least one major structural flaw into their bases, or a self-destruct function. “You could’ve picked a different one! An airlock, or a vent, or something. People open doors, that’s like, the one thing doors are for.”
“Don’t critique my base design, and especially don’t quote that clown to do it,” Mi-Go snapped. “It doesn’t matter. I had the protective dome deployed anyway!”
Vell looked up at the glass dome that separated him and Mi-Go from the dark waters above, and saw those dark waters start to get brighter. He cursed under his breath. Chapter eight: the hero always arrives just barely before the villain begins their plan.
“In mere moments, we will reach the surface,” Mi-Go said, beginning the requisite villain speech. The waters above turned crystal blue, indicating they were near the surface. “Once the dome is opened, I will unleash my ultimate creation, and the entire world will be reshaped into unspeakable horrors!”
Mi-Go threw up his hand and laughed the requisite laugh as the submersible finally breached the surface and rose into the open air.
“You’ll never get away with this, Mi-Go, I’ll- Watch out!”
“Yes, you will watch me as I- oh shit!”
Vell and Mi-Go both dove for cover as a rocket soared through the air and slammed directly into the dome, crashing halfway through it before getting stuck. Once the shards of reinforced glass had stopped falling, Vell looked up just in time to see a hatch opening, and Doc Ragnarok leaping out of the rocket.
“Mi-Go!”
“Ragnarok, you asshole,” Mi-Go said. “I was just about to open the dome. You could’ve waited five seconds!”
Mi-Go angrily gestured to the shattered glass all over the floor, and the massive hole in his dome.
“Do you have any idea how much that’s going to cost to repair?”
“Save it, Mi-Go,” Doc Ragnarok snapped. “Don’t think I can’t tell that raygun is aimed at my base.”
“At my dorm, by the way,” Skye said, as she dropped out of the rocket.
“Skye?”
“Hi Vell,” Skye said. “Quick update, we’re here to help and my dad knows we’re dating now.”
“Oh, okay,” Vell said. “That’s, uh, that’s nice. Sorry for not saying anything earlier, Mr. Ragnarok-”
“Save it for after the shoggoths,” Doc said. Vell took a step forward and narrowly dodged a tendril from a shambling shoggoth rising up the stairwell behind him, as others rose from various openings around the dome.
“Oh, okay, sounds like a plan,” Vell said. “You guys want to handle the ray gun, or should I?”
“For legal reasons, I’m only here to compete with a rival villain,” Doc Ragnarok said. “All the actual hero work is up to you.”
“Stop bantering with the hero, this is my lair,” Mi-Go shouted. “Minions, attack!”
The shoggoths shuffled forward, slimy tendrils at the ready. Doc Ragnarok was not impressed.
“That’s my line,” he said. “Minions, attack!”
The hatch on the rocket he’d entered from opened again, and this time dozens of robotic drones poured out. While most of the drones swooped through the air towards the shoggoth’s, one flew down and dropped a barebones ray gun into Skye’s hands -the stripped down remnants of their “death ray”. Mi-Go was thoroughly unimpressed by the drone swarm.
“You want to threaten me with toy drones and foam darts?”
“Yes, I do,” Doc Ragnarok said, as his drones began to pepper the shoggoths with tiny darts of foam and rubber. “You always were too focused on the ‘mad’ rather than the science, Mi-Go. Your monsters are eighty percent slime, and foam is absorbent.”
The barrage had barely begun, and the shoggoths were already noticeably slower. Dozens of foam darts were absorbing the membrane they needed to move, making the abominations even slower and clumsier than they already were. One of them raged at the annoying assault of the drones, and raised a tentacle to swat them down, only to be met with a blinding red laser to one of its malformed green eyes. Skye smiled confidently as the shoggoth thrashed under the blinding beam.
“And having semi-transparent eyelids makes it hard to avoid a very powerful laser pointer,” Skye said. She aimed the beam at another shoggoth that got too feisty. Though they had multiple eyes to see through, their minds were too dull to process the sensory overload in even one of them.
“You’re a terrible supervillain, Mi-go,” Doc said.
“Why? Because I have a handful of oddly situational weaknesses?”
“No, you imbecile,” Doc continued. “You’re a terrible supervillain because you took your eyes off the hero.”
Mi-Go let out a confused grunt, and turned around just in time to see Vell’s knuckles coming the other way. A single punch to the jaw was all it took to send Mi-Go sprawling over the railing of his ray gun’s control platform. He dropped to the floor as Vell dashed to the weapon, took out one of his revolvers, and fired at anything that looked important. The mutagenic machine let out a few sparks and explosive crashes as vital components were obliterated and the entire device fell dead. Mi-Go regained his bearings and looked up in horror as his attempted superweapon tried to collapse right on top of him.
“Hold on,” Vell said. “I can fix-”
His short-lived attempts to save Mi-Go from being crushed by his own weapon were unnecessary, thanks to Doc Ragnarok’s intervention. He nabbed Mi-Go by the labcoat and pulled him away just before the device crashed down on him. For some reason, Mi-Go did not look happy about it.
“Oh, damn you,” Mi-Go said. “You know every good supervillain is killed by their own creation!”
“I know,” Doc Ragnarok said. “Like I said: you’re not a good supervillain. You can have your ironic death when you’ve earned it. For now…”
Doc Ragnarok let go of Mi-Go’s collar and slapped him across the face.
“That’s for almost mutating my daughter.”
Mi-Go rubbed a sore cheek and spat on the ground near Doc’s feet.
“You’d be better off without her,” Mi-Go said. “Do you think I’d be this angry if you were some second rate villain? You were a legend, Ragnarok, you were inches away from conquering all of Europe! And then that girl-”
“That ‘girl’ is my daughter,” Doc snapped. “We’re supervillains, you imbecile, we’re not here to win, we’re here to challenge -to be a great evil that gives rise to a greater good. And there is no greater good than my daughter.”
Though it was caged within very odd circumstances, Skye still smiled at the sentiment. The good mood was cut short when her father punched Mi-Go in the face, this time knocking him out cold.
“Bastard,” Doc mumbled. “Now, shall we get out of here?”
“Please,” Vell said. “I’ve got shoggoth slime in my underwear.”
***
Dean Lichman rubbed partially decayed temples as Mi-Go’s aquatic fortress was towed away.
“Kim, tell me, is everything I plan doomed to go this way?” He lamented. “It seems like I can’t host any kind of event without...this.”
He gestured to the massive skull fortress as it drifted away. Kim shrugged.
“I think it’s just how things go around here,” Kim said.
“I’m glad you were on hand to stop it, at least,” Dean Lichman said.
“Oh, yeah, do me a favor, don’t tell Vell and the other guys I cut the power like ten minutes before they had their thing,” Kim said. “Apparently it was all kind of dramatic, I don’t want them to feel like it was a waste of energy.”
“I don’t think I’ll have a problem never talking about this again,” Dean Lichman said.
“It’s not all bad,” Kim said. “You still got your hosting fee, and the Supervillain Union is taking care of cleaning up Mi-Go’s unauthorized base, so you’re still in the black.”
“The things I do to keep this school afloat,” Dean Lichman sighed. He shook his head one more time and wandered away from the sorry sight. Kim watched the skull fortress drift away for a few more seconds, then left as well, heading for the senior dorms. The disassembly and cleanup of Doc Ragnarok’s lair was just about done, which meant it was the perfect time to show up and pretend to be helpful. Kim strolled past a few drones hauling away death ray parts and leaned on a wall near Vell.
“Need a hand?”
“Maybe with some heavy lifting, but we’re just about done,” Vell said.
“I told them we should’ve just used the self-destruct,” Doc Ragnarok said.
“Not while it was connected to my dorm, dad.”
“It was a non-explosive self-destruct,”Doc Ragnarok said. “A swarm of nanobots would’ve disassembled-”
“And then we’d have half a ton of iron filings to vacuum up all over the building,” Skye said. “Just drop it, dad.”
“It just feels wrong. Supervillain lair’s aren’t meant to be disassembled, they’re meant to be self-destructed, or destroyed by the hero.”
“Well technically, I am the hero,” Vell said, as he pried some paneling off a wall. “And I am destroying it.”
“Ha! That’s true,” Doc Ragnarok said. He unplugged one last bit of circuitry and shut down a container of bubbling fluid. Vell had asked about the purpose of the bubbling fluid earlier, and apparently it was solely for aesthetic reasons. Every supervillain lair needed glowing lights or bubbling vats, according to Doc Ragnarok.
“Anything else we need to unplug?”
“No, that should be the last of it,” Doc said. “The robots can handle the busywork from here. Ah, not including you, Ms. Kim, unless-”
“I get it,” Kim said. “I’ll leave it to the drones.”
Kim said goodbye and headed back to her dorm, while Skye led the other two back to hers. Vell found his way to the couch and fell onto it with an exhausted sigh.
“Sorry you didn’t get your thwarting, Doc.”
“Quite alright, whooping Mi-Go was more than enough fun to make up for it,” Doc Ragnarok said. “Besides, I get thwarted for a living. This was all just an excuse to visit my daughter, and on that front I’m doing very well.”
Doc looked at Skye for a moment, and then focused his attention on Vell.
“On that note,” Doc said. “You two have been dating for a year, then.”
Both halves of the couple pursed their lips and made awkward eye contact for exactly five seconds. Skye bit the bullet.
“Yeah, we met through, uh mutual friends, hit it off, had some common interests,” Skye said. “Vell met Roxy Rocket, you know, has a guitar autographed and everything, we could-”
“Don’t try to tempt me with my love of Roxy Rocket,” Doc Ragnarok said. “I have a question, and I want you to answer me honestly, Skye.”
She grit her teeth and prepared for the worst.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
That was not the worst, and Skye was not entirely prepared for it.
“A lot of reasons, I guess,” Skye said. “At first it’s because it’s a new thing, you know, not really worth mentioning, and then later on it gets awkward to bring up, or I got worried you wouldn’t like him, or I didn’t know how to start the conversation.”
“I’m your father,” Doc said. “I want to know what’s happening in your life, especially if it’s a boy you like enough to fight Lovecraftian monsters for!”
“You never asked!”
Father and daughter fell silent together. Vell considered stating the obvious, and wondered how best to say “you have some communication issues”. A sudden burst of laughter told him they might have come to the same conclusion on their own.
“Alright, you’ve got a point,” Doc said. “I’ll try to call more.”
“And I’ll try to talk more when you do,” Skye said. “Just mind the timezones. Last time you called from the himalayas you woke me up at one in the morning.”
“Ah. Well, I can imagine why you didn’t update me on that particular occasion,” Doc said. He slapped the arm of the chair he was sitting on and turned to Vell. “Sorry you got dragged into all of this.”
“No problem. I get dragged into everything,” Vell said. “At least this one helped Skye.”
“See, this is why I’m glad you two met,” Skye said. “If I had asked any other boyfriend to do this, they’d have dumped me on the spot, and if any other dad had met a guy like Vell, he’d never approve.”
“Birds of a feather, as they say,” Doc said.
“The name alone must be a pretty big hurdle for most guys,” Vell said. “How do most people react when you tell them your dad’s name is Doc Ragnarock?”
“I don’t,” Skye said. “His-”
“Now, don’t you dare, I have carefully cultivated a persona-”
Skye ignored the warnings and barreled through.
“His name’s Melvin.”
“Why?” Doc Ragnarok/Melvin pleaded. “Skye, please, respect the kayfabe.”
“With normal people, fine,” Skye said. “But Vell is my boyfriend, and my boyfriend gets to know my dad the guy, not my dad the supervillain.”
“Fine,” Doc said. “Fine. Okay. My name is...Melvin Lewis.”
“We can stick with Doc, if you like,” Vell said.
“Yes, please, good lord,” Doc Ragnarok said. “Nobody’s called me Melvin since my mother passed.”
“Got it. So, uh, other than supervillaining, what do you like to do?”
“Not a lot, honestly,” Doc said. “That’s the problem with loving what you do, it kind of makes it seem like you don’t have hobbies. I’m either doing supervillainy, or planning supervillainy, or writing about supervillainy, you get it.”
“Well, your book was great,” Vell said.
“Oh, thank you,” Doc said. “Actually, come to think of it, I’ve been meaning to do a collaborative work, really exploring the hero/villain dynamic from both sides of the aisle. Would you be interested in providing some notes?”
“I’m not exactly a traditional ‘hero’, but I could give some soundbites, yeah.”
Doc Ragnarok pulled out a tablet and started taking some notes on Vell’s antics. Skye watched from the sidelines with a smile on her face that was only occasionally interrupted by Vell describing how to properly execute a chokehold on a yeti.

Player Experience: Five players, each with about 10-30 years of experience. We are just a bunch of nerdy dads between the ages of 30 and 45
Location/Timezone: Online, EST timezone
Availability: Weekly on Monday or Tuesday evenings at 8:30pm EST but other days and times are possible.
Game Style: We're open to any fantasy 5e setting and are willing to discuss other options. We generally enjoy a good mix of strategic combat, RP, and exploration, especially when set in a well fleshed out and living world.
Preferred Way to Play: Online - VTT and Voice (We are open to anything and have used most VTT options over the years)
Number of players: Currently five, and we are not looking to add any more.
Additional Information : We’re looking for a DM who has a story they want us to bring to life. We have the experience and engagement to explore complex plot lines and deep themes, but at the same time are here just to throw dice and have fun. Our group makes our weekly sessions a priority, so we rarely miss a week. There’s nothing we enjoy more than collaborating with an equally engaged DM to tell epic stories peppered with humor and laughter.
Post if that sounds fun to you!

I believe you choose a successor at the end of your life and that there are a few parts of the script and plot that point to this being the original story, where it happens at the end of Po's life.
I believe in the original script the following happened: 1. Master Shifu disappears/dies in a similar vein to Master Oogway at the start. Here Shifu tells Po one day he must choose a successor. 2. There is a time skip soon after Shifu's death. 3. Po is very old for the rest of the film. 4. Akwafina's character was meant to be a red Panda. 5. The end of the film included the furious five from the spirit realm. 6. The end of the film has Po enter the spirit realm after defeating the Chameleon - dying. 7. Zhen becomes the Dragon Warrior aka the Kung Fu Panda.
 

1. The furious five are clearly missing in the script. Time skip takes care of that, but there is no reason in the final release.
2. Master Shifu is missing for the majority of the plot.
3. This is the first time it is mentioned that Master Shifu is a red Panda. An unnecessary line in the script.
4. The end of the film brings back all of the masters, this would have included the glaring omission of the furious five.
5. I believe Akwafina's character becoming the Kung Fu Panda was too bald for merchandising and minority altered the script. No dead furious five, no dead Po. No controversy over who Kung Fu Panda is.
6. I think the cut content was replaced with Po's dad's, or old furious five members had a similar role in the script.

TL:Dr Po was meant to die at the end and Akwafina's character was meant to be a red Panda take the mantle of Kung Fu Panda.

So you can call me Electra and I am a young lady, I have mild Autism, I also have dyscalculia. Ever since I was child I have been teased for being ugly and weird- meaning I am a girly girl, sensitive, and I like anime. My mother is very hurtful towards me and she says horrible things like '''I wish you were never born''' or ''You are so stupid. She has talked to me like this since I was 5 years old and she is a very toxic Christian praying for the cure to my so-called stupidity. I used to love my mom and but now that love has turned to hatred, I wish she would try to comfort me and hug me. When I was about 8 (before I got my dyscalculia diagnostic) I had gotten very bad marks in my math section, when I had opened my arms for a hug she said ''I don''t hug idiots.'' My dad luckily gave me a hug, but I am very ambiverted and I get socially shy and due to my caring about my grades and I get called a ''teacher's pet'' by my popular peers. I have a nice amount of friends, though, but I will never forget the day when my teachers from elementary put me in resource room. I got home crying and when she came home from job she said ''You have brought shame to this family'' and ''You will be the death of me.''' All I ever wanted was to feel loved and I am always treated like dirt, my older brother is like a parent figure to me and he comforts me- but whenever he leaves me I cry because it feels like I've lost my best friend. My dad is also bad he is a dirty cheater, always flirting with younger women and there is a 30 year age gap between my parents- so that explains something, I guess. I have been a high honor roll student for 4 years and I am a nation junior honor society member, but whatever I do she will always hate me and she said that I am a r-slur and a ugly lady. She beat me with a prickly wooden stick when I was 7 because I messed up a math question, I just want to feel loved for once in my life is that wrong?

Preface: all that's in quotes is my original comment from AskReddit. The rest at the end is new for this post.
"If it counts, I'll tell you my brother's story.
(He attempted suicide. He sliced his forearm up and cut some of his inner biceps on his left arm. He bled a fuck ton. Didn't die and stay dead because he was dehydrated and bled out slowly as hell. But they gave him blood and fluids. (And drilled into his shin bone for whatever reason. Probably marrow?) Anywho, he was gone. For a while. Not sure how long, as I was in jail when he was in the hospital.)
Anywho, to the MAIN STORY: he said when he was gone for those minutes, that he saw nothing....not like a blind person sees nothing. But like he was in an empty void of darkness and blackness. And he describe the feeling he had as that of absolute euphoria and calm. **I (not he) can only liken it to the way people on reddit speak of heroin. That calm, euphoric, "coziness". Just without the warmth and the being blanketed feeling. Just an absolutely serene moment of calm.
For some backstory. We were raised southern Baptists. For awhile, he was an agnostic and even an atheist. We have an ex brother in law who was born and raised Muslim. (Syrian Lebanese, grew up in Saudi Arabia.) My brother was trying to research Chritianity a bit (wavering faith) and began to study many world religions. Not surface level knowledge, but not scholarly knowledge either. Pretty in depth. After he came back, he said he just had an urge to pick up the Qu'ran and and read it. He eventually became a Muslim.
If you wanna know, he attempted suicide because he'd recently had a psychotic break and became very paranoid and fearful that people were out to get him. (Out to kill him.) And he had hallucinations of certain people being in cars around him. Like the same handful of people (usually just one of them at a time) in this car and that car, throughout the months. All in diff cars, with diff drivers/owners of each car. That kind of drove him over the edge. Now the reason I say this is because he used the Bible as some kind of moral guidance on what to do. He flipped to a random page and found a random verse. And it said something along the lines of a "Free will sacrifice". And that day, the day he tried to kill himself, people kept saying "it's your day, Patrick. It's your day." It was St Patrick's Day.
.
Another thing I kinda wanna mention. At the time of this happening, I myself was an agnostic (leaning more towards atheism); so I didn't believe this story at all. But now, as a dystheist... I'm kinda wondering if it's possible. However I know the following will all be discounted by many. (Probably even claimed by others that I was never an atheist. Ya know, the No True Scotsman fallacy. The same thing Christians say to an apostate.) But.... one time, my brother said he'd seen his shadow move on its own. Amd he freaked the fuck out. Amd he sensed it being dark and evil. It was a dreadful and horrifying moment for him. Then he began to "speak" to it. It didn't speak. He didn't speak. "Neither of them" even thought. It was like thoughtless telepathy between them. More of an understanding. What "they" (my brother amd his demonic shadow thing) talked about? I do not know. And I ALWAYS thought, even as a believer in an evil supernatural creator (not a Holy one), that this story was bullshit. Just a schizophrenic's nightmare. (Not meant in an ableistic way.) But last night my sister just randomly brought up how one time when he'd walked through the front door, she saw some large black figure on his upper back. (Instant mental image to me was something like how Venom pops out of Tom Hardy's back in the Sony movies). But it disappeared as soon as he turned around. Like it went back inside him."
.
.
.
Now, I've seen some things myself. Right around the same time as my brother and sister seeing the demonic shadow thing. What I've seen were actual human beings (human looking at least) morph their faces. The first guy, Carlos, had a latex rubber look to his face when he morphed. And it was like it was sudden, but not sudden. Like I didn't even notice it'd changed. He went from looking human to almost alien. His eyes grew large and black. Super black. His eyes did have a shine to them tho. No whites to his eyes. Large eyes, all black. He had two mouths. One was a normal sized mouth, that looked smug as hell. The other one was like.... deeper in his skin, on his face. It was a crease that went from ear to ear. And it looked sadistic. The second guy, Frank, looked more human than Carlos did when he morphed. He looked human enough. But his mouth physically pulled back from ear to ear. He looked super proud and smug. Amd he had a toothy grin. And his cheeks sagged a bit, and had two stripes of skin in them. Like folds. Made me think it was an expression of homicidal.ideation for fun.
Now, I've also seen my brother do weird stuff. Like when I was in an abandoned building stealing copper, I felt this presence behind me. The room was pitch black and I was using a flashlight. I swung around and shine at the floor, but saw no feet. Still felt like someone was there tho. Shone it higher, and I see some weird yellow thing. The strangest thing I'd ever seen up to that point. Shine it higher, and see my brother (this was years after his suicide attempt, along with Frank and Carlos being years later, but before this) smiling a scary smile. Then he said "come on, let's go home. Let's eat." Btw, the building was right behind our house.
(So, the attemtped suicide was about when I was 19 to 20. The demon shadow thing I'm not so sure when it happened. Frank and Carlos happened when I was 22 ish. And I later went to jail for probation violation for 6 months, where I'd seen and heard some truly disturbing and bizarre things. I was 23 or even 24 when I got out of jail. I think 24. I'm now 33.)
Amd very recently, like maybe almost 2 weeks ago now, I saw my brother do something with his face twice. But.... I don't know what I'd seen. It was so super quick. And it was more like a sudden movement followed by a flash of some kind of light. (I do also believe these people who do this are supernatural psychic beings.) The thing is tho? All the shit I've seen the people seem to know they're not human. But my brother? It'd seem almost as if he is a real human juat with some demonic entity using him as a host. But this I truly doubt 100%. (It's just what it'd seem like while writing this, honestly.)
Also, side mentions: i've seen a few people with cat eye slit pupils before. They looked super evil and hateful and even disgusted. I can only assume it's the sadistic rage of supernatural beings. I've seen in my step dad, a "celebrity" who will remain unnamed (but he's famously hated on reddit), Frank's dad (who is also named Frank), some guy at a group home (for the mentally ill) I was in for some time, and a friend from another group home. Oh, and even a video game character.....that's super famous.
Thanks for reading. Yes, this is all OC, but I've posted some of this (the stuff that doesn't concern my brother) before on some ghost and supernatural subs under other reddit names. (I have a tendency discard them after awhile.) Anyway, again, thanks for reading. I'll take feedback and some harsh criticism as well, if you'll offer it.

*** = listener speaking
Can be monetised, just please link back to either this post or my YouTube!
Gender(s) can be changed if wanted!
~~~
[knock on door]
Pet? Are you still in bed?
…Pet?
[door open]
[sigh of relief]
You’re giving me the silent treatment still?
Would you at least tell me why?
You haven’t spoken a word to me since the night I shot that arrow in your leg… were you unhappy with how I treated it? Does it still hurt?
…Pet. It’s been over a week.
You’ve barely drank or eaten anything, and the only fresh air and sunlight you’ve been getting is from the window because you haven’t left the bed.
You’re going to ruin your body at this rate.
The least you could do is tell me why.
…Nothing? You won’t even say you don’t want to tell me? Or that it’s my fault?
I would accept it if you did. I promise.
I wouldn’t get mad - I’d never hurt you, if you weren’t running away.
You know that.
…Alright, if that’s how you’re going to be.
[stands up; grabs bow; takes sheets off speaker]
I’m not going to watch you waste away in our bedroom.
We’re going outside, and I’m teaching you how to fire a bow.
If you have any complaints, say them now. …Say anything.
…No? Alright. Don’t be a limp noodle in my arms, then.
[picks up listener; walks downstairs and outside]
I figured you wouldn’t want to move by yourself even if you did talk to me, so I already brought out a seat.
It’s not optimal when learning to fire a bow, but since we aren’t using Olympic sized bows, it shouldn’t be too much of a hassle - and it has a low back so when you go to fire it, you can just pull it back without having to lean to the side in order to draw the string.
[puts listener in seat]
You won’t make me move you around like a doll, right?
I swear to you, pet, if you just try, whatever’s on your mind will disappear. Hunting is a great way to relieve stress - how do you think I stay so happy all the time?
Well… other than having you around. Nothing can beat having you by my side.
Here, baby. Just try holding it.
[pause; sigh of relief]
Thank you, pet.
Let’s move your hands around a bit.
On the wooden part, you need to put your fingers just below the bit where you’ll rest the tip of the arrow.
On the string… well, it’ll be easier once you’re actually nocking an arrow, but for now, try to line your fingers up. Just above where you put your other fingers.
Would you be okay if I gave you an arrow? Do you feel confident enough to nock it?
…I’ll take your silence as a yes, pet.
I’ll pull your arm back with you. As for where to aim… how about that tree right in front of us? It’s not too far, right?
…More silence, so more consent, I’m assuming.
[nock arrow; pulling string]
Looks like you still have your strength, pet.
Do you want me to let go of your hands?
Not that I’m against holding them. …We haven’t touched each other like this in a while.
[pause; happy noise]
Thank you for nodding. That’s the first action I’ve seen you do other than blink…
I’m letting go now. You let the arrow go whenever you feel ready, okay?
[arrow thud]
Wow- well done! You didn’t hit it dead-on, but you managed it pretty far into the side.
Amazing aim, pet.
Would you like to try shooting moving targets next? It’s a bit of a step up, but if it ends up going wrong, we can always go back to shooting trees.
[pause, kiss; walk to box]
My dad made these shortly before he passed.
They’re kind of like the clay discs they use in the Olympics for the gun sports, but softer material so an arrow can pierce them.
He’d be happy they’re finally being used for something.
I’m gonna throw the first one! In three, two…
[whoosh; arrow x3]
Two out of three!
You’re a natural pet! If I didn’t know you were against hunting, I’d think about bringing you with me on-
[arrow fired]
Ow!
[fall]
Ah… oh, oh what the… ouch, what the hell!?
Crap, this hurts…!
I think that arrow hit my bone… i-it didn’t go through, at least.
Pet, you need to be more careful, I get it’s fun but-
…When did you get over here?
Why are you aiming an arrow at my head?
***
Pet.
I’m happy you’re talking again, but things won’t go like you think if you… let that arrow fly.
We’re in the middle of nowhere. In the woods.
You don’t know which direction the nearest town is. Even in broad daylight, do you want to risk running around lost in the trees when you don’t know which way to go?
And even if you’re doing this just so you can be alone, you’d lose your source for food. You wouldn’t be able to survive without me, pet.
Also… you’re not using full strength. This close, I doubt you’d build up enough force to do more than break skin. I’ll be fine.
…Please, pet. Put the bow down.
[pause; bow hits the floor]
[sigh of relief]
Thank you, pet. Can you give me a hand? It’s going to be awkward to walk like this-
[grab; drag]
Pet, I can walk if you-
***
Haha. I’m glad to hear you talk again, even if you’re telling me to shut up.
I missed your voice.
***
Shutting up.
[door open + close; put speaker on couch]
The medical kit is just under the seat - can you get it for me?
***
Pet, I appreciate the thought, but you’re no medic.
While I’d love you to be my personal nurse, you wouldn’t be able to get the arrow out correctly, or do the bandages tight enough.
I’ll handle it all. You go… make some food for yourself, pet.
You haven’t eaten in a while. Make whatever you want.
Sorry I can’t cook for you.
[walks off]
[breathes in]
Three, two, one- fffffff! Ow! Ow, ow, ow!
Damn, I’ve got to hand it to them, they certainly got it in there deep.
…Maybe I should just tackle them next time they try to run away.
Would’ve avoided this whole mess if I’d done that last time.
[bandages; walks back]
Pet, you’re back quick.
Did you just heat up some leftovers?
Not to brag, but they smell pretty good~
The venison, right? I’m glad it’s also becoming your fav- mmph!
[coughs]
W-Warn me next time before you go shoving food into my mouth, pet.
Do you want me to shut up again or something?
***
…For me?
Pet, I told you to make food for yourself. I had a huge breakfast.
Let me feed you instead.
***
Of course I want to, pet.
I love taking care of you. …And I don’t like that broken look in your eyes.
I’ll do anything to make you happy again - even if it means giving up my favourite food.
[chuckles]
…Pet?
[skin]
Why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?
***
[chuckles]
I know you don’t get me, pet. Love makes people do the craziest things.
It’s okay. I don’t expect you-
[kiss]
…to kiss me.
[kiss]
Ow!
***
It’s nothing. You just put your hand on my injury.
Oh, and you don’t have to apologise, accidents happen.
…Pet? What’s that look in your eyes for?
***
Ow!
Okay, that was definitely intentional.
Are you secretly a sadist?
***
[breathes in; chuckles]
Love really does make you crazy.
And since it makes you smile, be as crazy as your heart desires, pet.

Hi everybody, so over the past few weeks, I have begun a campaign to play every nation in anbennar with a unique mission tree all the way from A-Z, and I am making great progress through this goal. I decided along the way, however, that I would like to share my experiences with other people as I go, so this is how I will do so. This first post will be to discuss the format as well as review the first few nations on my list.
So some things to clear up before we start. I'm going to make it clear now that I'm not the greatest EU4 player, but I have a decent enough amount of hours to grasp what I'm doing. I put about 100-150 in-game years into each of these nations, unless I'm really invested or the nation I'm trying to play requires a longer time to come into fruition (thing aelantir spawnables). This means I do have less experience with some in-game mechanics (e.g. artificery or ravelianism), so if a nation has considerable interactions with those that I miss please let me know. Additionally, I play on ironman so a lot of these get one shot of a run, maybe with some restarts at the beginning. If I have missed anything important, or there is an alternative route I have not taken, again please let me know. Here's my ranking scale:
5/5 is an amazing nation, loved nearly every second and all the flavour surrounding it.
4/5 is a great experience but lacks one thing needed to be perfect.
3/5 is a very decent nation, either objectively good but I dislike, or I like it but is objectively not that good honestly.
2/5 are for what I call vanilla+ nations, pretty much a solid vanilla tree with some anbennar spice.
1/5 are for very underwhelming nations (there won't be many of these)
With that out of the way let's begin with A part 1
Adshaw - 4/5
Adshaw is a strong start, with some great flavour and a very immersive tree overall, as you unite northern cannor through the power of vassal swarm. I particularly love the various ways in which you assimilate your smaller neighbours, with particular highlight to the rebel spawns and the mission that forces the ai into an offensive war, that's a really creative idea. Also the way you support the Junior Partner nation through their reclamation of the orcish lands is really cool too. Only issue I have is that dealing with Gawed can be really tricky to get the hang of, especially the mission that creates rebels as it can be very difficult to spot when they spawn. Other than that though, strong start overall.
Adenica (from Sons of Dameria) 5/5
I think the Escann Adventurers might be my favourite tags in the game, I always get immersed into the rush for land as you take back provinces from the orcs. This took me a couple tries to realise rushing Taranton with the insta 12/12 war into murking them when the truce is up is meta, and once Adenica is formed it's so much fun with my mega cavalry, I feel like an honorable knight of Adean. The 10 Tenets is also a genius idea applauds to ever came up with that holy hell that was an awesome sense of accomplishment to feel like I'd truly become the embodiment of Adenica. (Got extremely unlucky tho as the 100% resistance to reformation buff you get on your capital was wiped by the fact that it got randomly tagged as a center of reformation yay!)
Aelnar (from Venail) 3/5
I want to love Aelnar, I really do, but it's so hard to do so when it feels really clunky to play. Colonial gameplay as a whole is just very awkward in eu4 and they've tried to make it work but it just takes wayyyy too long to feel any kind of satisfaction. The riviansa is an awesome disaster and is so cool to navigate, but after that is over and you've chosen the only Aelnar path that matters (you know the one), the rest of it feels kinda lackluster? Please gimme advice to make aelnar more fun I wanna love this nation so much.
Amacimst 1/5
I'm really sorry, I don't mean any disrespect to the person who made this. I respect the effort it takes to create something like this and the love and care that goes in, but Amacimst just isn't for me. I don't feel anything while playing this nation. I initially chalked it down to the Ynn, but having played other Ynn nations I can say that isn't the case, nothing about Amacimst makes me feel immersed or interested. I don't wanna slate this nation more so I'll leave it there.
Ameion 4/5
And for the final nation of Part 1, we have the complete opposite case. An amazing nation idea purely bogged down by thr region it's in. I'll be upfront and say I don't like the Kheionai. Having already expressed my disdain for colonial gameplay it gets heavily combined with naval gameplay (which I'm also not big on), in one of the most isolated regions in the whole game. Ameion is actually the least offender here, as you can focus on the other continent whose name I have forgotten. Ameion flavour-wise is amazing though, starting with your mega ruler-general whose death is pre-determined, so you have a time limit to do your shit while getting bonuses from completing your missions while he's still alive, and it's also cool to navigate the web of alliances that are formed on Larankar continent to keep your conquests going, while maintaining your relations with Amgremos and Deyeion to make them your vassals. It's a nation I'd recommend more than any other bar 1 for the region, but sadly it doesn't make me wanna play Kheionai over other regions.
Thanks all for reading my first part, hopefully the others can be shorter love you all. Please leave any feedback below if this could be formatted better. ❤️

My dad's an ER doctor, and said that in a rare handful of hospitals he worked at in the past they kept a list of funny or particularly clever quotes from staff written down. I loved hearing some of those quotes as a kid, and it seemed like it was a good way for them to gain new perspectives (best case scenario; i.e., "We've tried everything that we know works, and it didn't, this is actually the best time to try experimental bullshit." - a quote from an ER doctor right before performing some life-saving "experimental bullshit.") or share good reframes for avoiding burnout (worst case scenario; "In my experience, a patient's odds of survival are inversely proportional to their value in society, so this guy's gonna be fine." - A quote from a burn unit nurse talking about a patient who set himself on fire in the course of attempting to commit a felony.) I've wondered for a while what that would look like at a therapy clinic, but since our work so rarely includes observation by other therapists many of us will have clever turns-of-phrase/jokes/explanations/experiences that just never get seen or heard. What are some of yours?
I'll give some of my better ones:
"If you wanted anger management techniques so you'd never feel angry again you should have let me know right away, I could have disappointed you so much sooner." (Adolescent patient seeking anger management treatment and worried it wasn't working because they had gotten upset with their mom earlier that day.)
"You're literally paying me to make you cry, this is the highlight of my day! I'm gonna brag about this in supervision later, not only do you not need to apologize, I should be thanking you for this." (I made a patient I knew well cry in session.)
"When do I get to tell Scooby Doo and the gang to go home? I think you just solved the mystery." (I use this one sometimes when patients I have rapport with have a "light bulb" moment.)
"ACAB also means that little voice in your head that criticizes everything you do." (Said to a patient who was extremely politically active and also extremely self-critical.)
"There's a little guy that sits somewhere in the middle of your brain, in a little poorly-lit almond shaped room, whose only job is to scream and panic when anything happens or anyone talks to you, and that's the guy who is running your life right now." (Trying to explain GAD to a geriatric patient.)

Part 1
They're all going to die. The captain was right, this ship is our ticket out of here. No more subsisting on stupid algae rations. Fresh meat, Finally! I hope they have some Freeanas. They taste just like my favorite snack back home on Grobblum. I remember learning how to leap from the methane pools fast enough to catch the tiny flying things off-guard. I loved the snap of their brittle bones, so when I learned there was an entire species of giant ones? Heheheheh...
The blood-scent on this vessel is strong. The boarding latch hasn't even opened yet and I can already feel the bloodlust taking hold. My buddies besides me are all itchin' to go- but I ain't second captain for nothin'. I gotta make sure to keep 'em in line- so they tear apart the enemies instead of each other. Especially since we're all starvin'.
"REMEMBER, SPAWNLINGS! WE'RE HERE FOR THE SHIP, NOT THE STUPID SCIENTISTS ON IT. TEAR 'EM APART BUT LEAVE THE TECH INTACT. ANY OF YOU THE SCRATCH THE FURNITURE WILL FEEL MY TEETH, GOT IT?"
The roared in unison. Good. Morale is always key. The latch opens as their vessel finishes repressurizing, tearing open the secondary bulkhead like dry kelp and creating a new opening for us. Stupid Florbulan ships, they think their fancy redundant systems can stop Grobulans? Hah! They can add as many extra walls as they want, we'll just add more boom.
Time to go. I lead the charge, of course, and start tearing into the first Florb I see. Soft and chewy, but I ain't a fan of their blood. Too acidic. I leave 'em to the boys and pull a couple with me to go deeper in. Down the hall is a few more, I want to save bloodying my hands for the first Freeana I see so I fire a shot from the photon caster instead and let one of the boys I took handle the rest. I turn down the hall, and the other boy is already at a tear. Suddenly, a different Grobulan leaps from a doorway and the two start tearing into each other.
"Heh heh heh, look what we have here. BOYS! GET OUT HERE! LOOKS LIKE TODAYS A LUCKY DAY! WE GET TO EAT TRAITOR TONIGHT!" I bellow to the others behind me. They start pouring out of the room, leaving the half-dead Florbs to rot. Every Grobulan worth their teeth knows the name Hark Manyfred. Son of the Traitor King. Disgrace to every Grobulan in the galaxy. Figures he's here, on some no-name explorer vessel. Not even the Florbs want him doing anything important. Serves the trash right for what his fool of a father did. That war was as good as won, all we had to do was execute that filth of a mate and her treasonous pacifism. That would've set the bastards priorities straight, make it so he didn't surrender to these pathetic chew toys. Force the rest of us loyal Grobulans into hiding. Not that we mind the Pirates life, its more natural anyways. But it still sucks having to spend months or years on algae rations between hits.
After the traitor lept out the doorway, something else stepped in after him. A weird thing I'd never seen before. Must be one of the Combine's new races. We'd been stuck out in deep space a few years, haven't exactly been able to keep up to date on news. Good. I get to be the first Grobulan to taste new meat. What's the thing its holding? Doesn't look like a Photon caster. Must be some new tech? Or maybe something its people made. Who knows, who cares?
"Stop! Don't come closer or I'll shoot!" It bellowed. Translators still working? Stupid gunman missed. That shot was supposed to take out their computer core. Maybe its another of the Florbs stupid redundancies. Whatever, bloodlust is getting tougher to handle. I need me some RED.
Not good. Not good. Not good. Shark people don't respond to intimidation. Fuck. Of course the pirates also have to be homicidal maniacs. The things fast too, practically swimming through the air- and while I'd love to appreciate the majesty of a flying great white right now that thing is coming this way and I'm pretty sure its looking at me. I look to Hark but he's busy with another of the Pirates. I heard once that sharks go away if you hit them on the nose, I know the airsoft gun probably isn't much, but if I pelt him in the face a few times maybe it'll stun him a bit? Don't know, but I have to try cuz running in this low gravity isn't gonna work.
BOOM. SQUELCH.
Holy fucking shit. What the hell? He just... he just exploded!? Eugh, and that smell. Its like someone just turned on a stove. What the hell are these guys made of, fucking methane? Whatever, I look behind me just to make sure there wasn't some other guy with a gun or whatever. Nope. Nada. That shark just exploded cuz of an airsoft BB and I'm not in a position to start questioning things when there's a second one that looks like its decided I'm a bigger threat than Hark. After a very brief moment of shock from the sudden detonation, it and I lock eyes and it leaps at me. I panic and pull the triger again, spraying bbs down the hallway all the while and catching some other shark people that happened to be behind that first one. One of them scrapes the thing's arm, and it just blows off like I hit him with a twelve gauge. He goes careening into the wall and splats like a water balloon. More of that disgusting smell, and all the blood. I actually end up vomiting, and watch in horror as it sizzles on what's left of the dead shark guy's skin. Burns right through it like I'm a fucking xenomorph or something.
I look to Hark, and I may not be an expert of Shark social skills but I'm pretty sure he's shitting himself right now. God, to him I must look like I was plucked straight out of a horror movie. He probably expects me to whip out a knife tail or laser eyes or something. I look to my right to see Doc Oc again, and he's an even deeper shade of outright purple now. Almost black. I hear more shouts, more of those shark things start pouring out of the doorway the first ones came from. One of them is holding another octopus looking person in... christ in his teeth.
We're all going to die. But not to the Grobulans like I originally thought. This creature calling itself Duncan has just reduced, and is still reducing, the Grobulan pirates that have boarded the vessel to... paste. That 'toy' of its is quite literally making them explode. And I'm pretty sure it just spat acid venom at one to make sure it was dead. I was wrong, this is not a soldier. This must be some kind of gene-augmented bioweapon, bred for war. The fact that it hasn't already killed us is either a sign that some command trigger hadn't flipped until combat began or some other control mechanism that might be malfunctioning- or perhaps not malfunctioning. Whatever the case, it doesn't seem interested in either me or Lieutenant Hark, and I aim to keep it that way by pulling Hark into back into my office so I can work on the injuries he sustained from his brief scuffle. Pretty bad, from the looks of it. Several tears, a couple torn ligaments. One of his cartilage support structures is snapped in half. All I can hear from the hallway now is shouting, and that horrid noise its weapon makes. A high pitched whine, a handful of strange plinks, and the nausea-inducing squelch of a... of a detonating Grobulan. Whatever that weapon is, its more powerful than any I have ever seen or even heard of. At least as far as handheld firearms are concerned. The fact that its people has developed such weaponry before even achieving spaceflight is a testament to what is undoubtedly a violent, warlike nature. No wonder it seemed so concerned that Dr. Tryn had accessed their communications, it must have thought we were trying to conduct military espionage. I shudder to think what it would have done if the doctor hadn't been quick to assuage its worries. It could well be me painted on the wall right now...
I decided it was better to focus on Hark's injuries, than to speculate about my brush with death.
This is sickening. I thought that living out a sci-fi novel, killing goons and pirates with some weird super power or super weapon might be kind of neat, fun even. But right now all I want to do is go home and pretend like this never happened. But I can't. Something about seeing all the... blood up close. Hearing those screams. No actor can do a genuine death cry, and let me tell you the real thing tickles something fucking awful deep in my brain. Even if its from an alien instead of a, well human I guess. They're people, too, afterall. From all the dead uh, octopus people- mental note, ask Doc Oc what his people are called- its clear what's gonna happen if I even entertain the idea of surrender. These shark people don't leave prisoners, and if they did they'd probably have a different, more culinary, term for them.
Calling upon my years of... airsoft experience... I start clearing the hallway. Check corners, double-checking rooms, making sure I don't miss anything. There's a few more of those bird-fish people, cowering along with a handful of other strange aliens I've not seen before. More octopi, a few eel-looking ones, a literal man-sized starfish. Man, aside from the bird-fish all of them look like they come from the ocean. Are there any terrestrial species aboard? Maybe its a special ship or something.
Eventually, I hear a weird thunk and the entire ship seems to lurch. Then the Alexa in the walls says, "BREACH SEALED. 1 INTRUDER DETECTED. YELLOW ALERT."
"Sounds like its over mostly, I'm sure the ship has other soldiers on it to take care of the last guy. Now, back to uh... where... fuck. I have no idea where I'm at." I turn around, to find the hallway behind me now blocked by 2 eel-like aliens, wielding more of those banana shaped weapons- pointed at me. Shit.
I put my hands up, and drop my weapon- letting the band on it hang it by my shoulder, "Hey heyyyy.. it's alright. I'm friendly, I'm on your side, I helped uh... well, you can see for yourself." I gestured to the trail of... corpses. God. I left a trail of corpses. Fuck me. When I get back, I'm gonna have one hell of a story for my therapist.
"I am well aware of your actions today, sir... Duncan Euler, is it? Doctor Ruffaloo informed me of your... abilities," A voice from behind me, very soft. I turn around and... huh. This one looks sort of like one of those bird-fish people, but much... taller? More like a stork or a flamingo, where the other ones looked sort of like shiny pidgeons with gills. Given the voice, must be some kind of sexual dimorphism? Weird. She- or he? I don't know. They seem to also be actually dressed, admittedly with ribbons and medals instead of clothes, but I guess that's how it goes when you're people are all feathered. No need to add more coverings.
"Uh, ohkay. Look, I didn-" She raised a hand, or wing I guess.
"Its alright. I'm not about to interrogate the one responsible for saving my vessel about his people's military technology or strategies. From the security footage, its clear that you are no uncontrolled murder machine like our good Doctor seemed so worried about. You very much seem in control, and have gone to effort to target only the pirates who boarded my ship," she explains.
Her ship? So she's the captain then. Alright, cool, so I can just tell her what's going on, have her take me back to my planet and get her in contact with some way more qualified than me for something as big as first contact and then I can go home and forget about all of this.
"Oh, good, that's great. So, listen, I-" she raises a wing again.
"I'm sure you want to go home so you can report about this to your superiors. But, unfortunately, that is not currently possible. According to Protocol, first contact with a new species requires a thorough investigation of the prospective member species before making contact through official channels to prevent the spread of novel diseases or aid in application of species-unique accomodations; and of course to ensure our translators are functioning correctly so that there are no communicative misunderstandings. Normally this would be done at a great distance, and if any form of physical exam was conducted the individual would be sedated the entire time and returned in the same condition they were taken before any could notice. However, Lieutenant Hark broke protocol during his scouting assignment in an attempt to save your life. And while admirable, it has left us in a rather awkward position. I must thank you for saving my vessel, but unfortunately I cannot allow you to return to your planet before an official first contact is made. In the meantime, I'm sure the Combine would be more than happy to provide you any accomodation you desir-"
I raise my airsoft rifle, directly at her. I hear a few clicks from behind me, and quickly realize what my anger and adrenaline have made me do. I prepare to face death, but instead only hear gasps of.. horror? I flick around to see what's happened, only to find that the guards behind me are shining... laser pointers? Had to cover my eyes a bit but... yeah. Its just laser pointers. They're a little hot, I guess. But, not like "light me on fire" hot or anything.
"Hey! Be careful where you point those laser sights you have on your guns, you could blind someone! Or... well, I guess you wouldn't care about blinding someone you're about to kill, but still! That could hurt!"
I hear the captain lady's voice again, though its a hoarse whisper of abject shock.
"Those aren't laser sights. Those are Photon Casters. The deadliest handheld firearm that can be safely used aboard a spaceborne vessel. And you... you're just... immune? Do- do you even feel them?"
"Uh, well, they're a little hot I guess. Might be able to cook a chicken with one if you held it long enough." I said, unconsciously cracking a joke to take the edge off the fact that I was apparently about to be executed just to keep me quiet.
"A little hot? Sir Duncan those are- well, I don't know what measurement your people use and I'm sure the Translator doesn't either. But I assure you they would normally be extremely painful at the least, and if held could kill in just a few moments. I also don't know what a chicken is, but if takes more than this to 'cook' them then it must be quite the formiddable beast," She explains, her voice stern with amazement.
I can't help but chuckle at the idea of a chicken being formiddable, but it only ends up scaring the piss out of everyone around me. Fuck. 'The monster learns its invulnerable to its victims weapons, and chuckles menacingly'. Well, maybe I could turn this to my advantage.
"Take me back. Now." I say, in the deepest, most intimidating tone I could muster. Making sure the Captain is staring directly down the orange barrel of my apparently-lethal airsoft gun.
----
How did things come to this. First Lieutenant Hark disobeys a direct order, and though it is admirable to want to save a life, it is unimaginably reckless when it involves breaking first contact protocol. What happens if this "Duncan"'s family notices its absence? What if Hark's little escapade was noticed by local authorities? There's no telling how many things could have or indeed did go wrong at the very outset, and now here I am being threatened into making matters worse by the very individual Hark saved and who saved my own vessel from Grobulan pirates. Not even the Songs can tell where they came from, or why they were this deep in unexplored space. I've heard tales of Pirates living away from the Hyperlanes, but I didn't think they could be this far out.
In any case, what am I to do? Clearly this individual is attempting to reconnoiter with its military to report on the existence of extraterrestrial threats. There's no telling how this will paint first contact- it could even lead to another Cold War like with the Grobulan Empire; which ended in the obvious fashion. Thankfully their King had a sympathetic consort, and it was thanks only to her sacrifice that the war was ended before anyone went extinct. I'm sure the councilmen would prefer to avoid a repeat of these events. As would I, considering the death toll of that conflict. It may be futile, but I must try to negotiate- even if it results in my own death.
"Sir Duncan, I am sorry but I cannot do that. If your people learn of extraterrestrial life in uncontrolled conditions, it could cause mass panic, or worse, outright war. It is not unheard of for a civilization to over-react to the notion of extraterrestrials and end up running itself extinct over differences of opinion regarding how to move forward. Moreover, if you tell your superiors of what happened here they may be inclined to believe that extraterrestrials in general are a threat- which would hamper peace talks intending to offer them the protection of the Florbus Combine. Our goal is to ensure peace and cooperation between as many species as possible, for the betterment of all. But if a world is closed off and xenophobic, it can result in far worse conflicts than what has happened aboard this vessel. It is in everyone's best interest that we follow protocol, and ensure a smooth first contact with your world's governing bodies. To give them time to process the information before making it public knowledge and potentially causing chaos and, thereby, death. I do not see in you a heartless monster, if you were you would have killed my own people indiscriminately alongside the Grobulans."
If this does not sway it, then nothing can. I may be forced to scuttle. Better us to burn than entire planets.
----
Fuck. She saw right through me. In hindsight, threatening the captain of a military vessel would never have ended well anyways. They might have tried something insane. Especially since she's still convinced that I am a military man myself. My dad may have been, but I definitely am not. I like airsoft, sure, and I do enjoy occasionally watching videos of airsoft pros wiping the floor with military tactics. But I grew up with my mother never knowing if my Dad was going to come back or not. Too many tearful reunions, too many moments seeing the dead look in his eyes or overhearing him talk in his sleep. PTSD is a hell of a thing, and it seems I'm gonna end up with some of it myself after this.
The worst thing is she's right. If I go back, there's no way I couldn't at least tell mom- she'd notice something was wrong and find a way to force it out of me. Then she might tell Dad, and Dad really is a military man and there's no way he wouldn't tell one of his friends still in the military and then it all goes downhill from there. I lower the gun again, dropping it entirely this time and letting it hang loosely by the band. I end up taking a seat in the hallway as the adrenaline finally turns off and exhaustion hits me.
"Ugh... fine. You're right. It was selfish of me to try and force it. I just want to go home, man. I... I killed people today..." I sigh in resignation.
She gives me a confused look, "Is... that not your profession as a Soldier?"
I tilt my head back against the wall lazily, giving her just the side of my eye, "I tried to tell Doc Oc- er, uhm, Doctor Ruffaloo, that I'm not a soldier. Then those uhm, what did you call them?"
She answers tertly to allow me to continue smoothly, "Grobulans."
"Grobulans, right, Shark people. The Grobulans attacked. And like I was about to say just now, I didn't know my airsoft gun could even do that. It's a toy, I mean, watch-" I took it and quickly shot it at my arm, it stung a bit, but it was nothing much. Everyone else though looked in shock as I did it, several of them gasped and I'm pretty sure Doc O- Dr. Ruffaloo fainted. I think, he just sort of squished into the floor so its kind of hard to tell. But when they saw it do absolutely nothing they all relaxed a little.
"Well, I'm sure its a Toy to your people. But, at least to the Grobulans, its a lethal weapon of unimaginable proportions. Though, if it truly is just a toy, I hope you wouldn't mind me asking: What is 'airsoft'?" Oh boy.
"Uhm, its well... I hope the translator doesn't garble this. It's just a thing made to look like a gun- er, a real weapon except for the orange barrel which is the legal requirement to identify it as a toy. But instead of firing bullets-" I begin to explain.
"Bullets?" She interrupts
"Oh, uhm, actually deadly projectiles. Your doctor there pulled one out of me while I was out cold, I think. Some maniac brought a real gun to the airsoft field and, uh yeah. Fuck, that means I'm missing. There's no way they aren't gonna put out a search party for me, especially since that asshole fired a real fucking gun. God, my mom is gonna be devastated..." I sink low as reality hits me. Everyone I know is going to think that I'm dead, and I can't go back to tell them I'm not because if I do it could end up causing global panic or even war. Lord knows what China might do if they thought America was getting the upperhand in xeno-negotiations.
"Apologies, Sir Duncan," she said, "I did not mean to-"
My turn to interrupt, "Its alright. Not your fault, technically. I mean, if not for Hark I might really be dead so, I guess it doesn't really change much. I just get to be up here wallowing about it instead of in heaven."
"Heaven?" Oops. God, I really am not cut out for this first contact thing. Gonna be here for hours going down tangents cuz of me and my insatiable need for metaphor.
"Uh, my people's idea of an afterlife. The idea is that when we die, good people go up to Heaven to live in eternal paradise and bad people go to Hell to live in eternal punishment. I mean, there's a bit more nuance than that but I'm not a particularly religious person so I'm not exactly the one to talk to about it." I explained.
"I... see. Your people have quite unique beliefs. In any case, you were saying about what it is that 'toy' fires?" Thank god she can deal with my tangents.
"Yes, right. Uh, we call them BBs. Not a clue what it stands for, but its just a really tiny plastic sphere. Not really aerodynamic or anything, but that's sort of the point. The point is to be nonlethal. Its specifically design to not kill, just sting a little. I have no idea why its so... effective against the shark people. Sorry, uhm, Grobulans." I finally finished elaborating.
"Its quite alright, I imagine. They're not a particularly well liked sort, especially amongst my people, the Freeanas. Except for lieutenant Hark Manyfred, the one who saved you, most of them are vicious murderers and monstrous cannibals. I'm not particularly fond of applying racial stereotypes so generically, but in this case it really is difficult not to. Lieutenant Hark is an example of the more civilized Grobulans attempts at clearing their reputation. Though I'm not sure why they would assign him to my vessel. In any case, politics is not the matter at hand. What we must do now is finish assessing the damage and plot a return route back to Florbus space," She begins to nod and issue commands to the guards around me, I break into small laughter.
"Is something the matter, Sir Duncan? The translator isn't interpreting those noises, are you injured?" She worries
"Oh, no, its laughter. Uhm, a reaction to funny stuff. Sorry, I know things are serious and all but... Florbus? That's the name of the big alien empire? I just... sorry I can't..." I don't know why its suddenly so funny to me now, I guess I didn't really recognize it when that first uh 'Freeana' was telling me about them earlier. Florbus? It sounds like exactly the kind of weird madeup name a 70s or 80s sci-fi comic author would use. Or a modern one writing a parody. Speaking of, so is Grobulan. I mean, it rhymes with Romulan so I guess thats why my brain didn't quite register it as silly. Those guys are serious stuff!
----
My people's brains do not go unconscious, except for when we die. But we do have a response when stress becomes simply too much. All of our muscles go lax, and our entire body melts into a puddle like slop since we do not have any form of internal supports. The crea- or, I suppose I should call it "Duncan", is terrifying beyond imagination. Immune to Photon casters, but more than that to its own lethal weapon. And, apparently, this weapon is considered by his people to be a toy. I can scarcely imagine what genuine weapons are to them, though that "bullet" I pulled out of him appears to be a clue. It takes me nearly 15 minutes to restore function to my nerve endings and regain my form. While I was incapacitated, Captain Ashala gave me my orders.
"Doctor Ruffaloo, you are to attend to our guest and make sure he is not suffering internal injuries. According to the reports, you are now this vessel's most qualified science officer. Congratulations, Director Ruffaloo, on your promotion. In addition to your duties as the ship's primary physician, I also want you to investigate the matter of these 'BB's the Duncan's airsoft weapon fires. I suspect the lethality may be biological in nature, considering they do not seem to carry much in the way of physical force nor detonate on impact with other surfaces."
Of course. Dr. Tryn... and Saint Florb knows how many others amongst the science crew. Though reluctant I am to interact further with the Duncan, I have duties and I must perform them. It could be the difference between life or death for many.
----
Back at Dr. Ruffaloo's office. I'm really feeling it now. Definitely got a bruise from that initial explosion, and its really starting to smart. King Shark is here too, and man is he beat up. That other, uh, Grobulan really tore into him. And I'm pretty sure I heard the big one I shot first say something about a 'Eating Traitor'. So I can guess what his story is. Man, to think racism was a thing in space- though I guess when you literally are different species its probably an easier trap to fall into. I can't help but feel bad for the guy, especially since he's apparently the one who saved me from death by gun-shot to the femeral artery. That's definitely where I got hit, now that I have a calm moment I can remember it clearly. Isaiah was looking shifty from the moment he showed up at the field, and I remember the argument he got into with Isabelle last time, so I decided to confront him to make sure he wasn't going to try anything stupid.
And boy, was I right. Mother fucker brought a god damn gun, and was planning to kill me specifically. Apparently he thinks I 'stole' Isabelle from him, and thought that killing me would somehow make her fall in love with him again. Fucking psychopath. She dumped him precisely because he was a fucked up control freak, and I just happened to be there for her when she needed comfort instead of scolding about the color of her jacket or hair. God, Isabelle is gonna be devastated, too. We had been dating for nearly a year at that point... man, I really, really need this first contact shit to happen as fast as possible. I just hope that when I get back they'll be there for me. I've seen the movies where this kind of thing happens. Man gets into accident, far from home. Ends up lost for years and by the time he gets back everyone else in his life has moved on and doesn't care anymore, usually with living parents no-longer-living or somehow resentful. If I end up going back to that...
I shook the thought. There's nothing I can do about it except make sure the captain's protocols go off without a hitch and in as much haste as can be garnered. I let the doctor look over me, and sure enough there's one hell of a bruise. He asks me if I'm alright, and I tell him its just a bruise. He turns white as snow and asks, with what sounds like extreme concern in his- or I guess the translators- voice, "The... uhm, Translator is interpreting that word as 'Internal Bleeding'. Is that correct?"
"Well, I guess, yeah, technically," I state plainly.
"HOW ARE YOU ALIVE RIGHT NOW?" He practically screams, before squishing back into the floor like he did earlier.
It takes nearly 5 straight minutes of me explaining a few basics about human anatomy, kinda stuff even highschoolers know about, before he finally un-squishes from the floor. I ask about that, and apparently its his people's stress response. Kind of cute, but also concerning. If you end up paralyzing yourself if sometimes spooks you particularly badly, that can't possibly go well. He says it was apparently some kind of evolutionary advantage on his homeworld, because it would make them seem dead and most predators often ignored dead things and most scavengers would quickly realize that the thing wasn't dead before any real damage was dealt. Weird.
From what I can gather during our conversation, aliens in general are built pretty poorly. The ocean animal thing? Yeah, thats no coincidence. Apparently the vast majority of life in the galaxy is aquatic in some fashion, and usually evolve into semi-aquatic or even amphibious by the time they develop tools and the like. Only a bare handful, such as the avian Freeanas, end up departing from the water entirely- and even then are often still mostly coastal or prefer to live near bodies of water for ease of hunting. Makes sense, even humans tended to found cities alongside rivers and other water sources. In any case, when you take a fish out of water it tends to be very squishy. And although most people have gene mods that let them exist without being submerged- mostly because water and other fluid mediums are extremely heavy and thus expensive to haul around in spaceships- mods that enhance durability or strength are heavily restricted and available only to military personnel.
"Speaking of, I couldn't help but notice that your internal supports are particularly dense and tough to analyze with my equipment. Do Duncans not restrict genemods like the we do?" He asks. I can't help but chuckle a bit.
"First off, my name is Duncan. My species is Human. Second off, we don't have genemods. Not yet, anyways- last I heard that kind of stuff isn't even prototypable, at least not in humans. Best we've got are bacteria that help in chemical synthesis,"
He squishes into the floor again. This is gonna be a long day.
--End of Part 2--

Hey guys, Im about to turn 16 soon and I plan on getting my motorcycle permit very soon. Ive already bought myself gloves, jacket, pants, etc. However, I am missing a helmet. My dad has an old Shoei helmet with Dot certification. The issue is that helmet is too big on me, it moves around too much since its an XL. So I was looking at buying an Arai helmet once I do get my permit, I've heard really good things about them. I was looking at buying an Arai Regent-X however I noticed that it has DOT and Snell certifications but no ECE certifications which tests for rotational movement during a crash. I also noticed it doesn't have any MIPS technology. Would you still recommend Arai helmets or is MIPS and ECE certification really important to you guys ? I know they have 1 model that has ECE but that one is way out of my budget. Any help is appreciated !
Thanks.

“My marriage to him would mean nothing, my love. I would find a way to rid myself of him in time.” I’m desperate now, not wanting to let him go and unable to stop the river of tears splashing onto his forehead.
“I would rather perish than put you in that position. I’d likely end up in the gallows anyway for murdering the scoundrel.”
I shake my head, not wanting to listen to reason. “Let’s keep you alive now and find a way to deal with this later. I’ll break you out of the dungeons before they can hang you if I have to, and we can make a run for it.”
“We won’t get far, my love, and probably both end up getting hung for the effort.”
I grip his hand tighter, hoping the longer I hold onto him, the longer he’ll stay with me, but I can feel his strength waning. He can barely keep his eyes open, his breath raspy and labored. Soon, he will leave me. “Stay with me,” I plead through sobs.
“That’s the one good thing about this curse.”
He must be losing his mind. “There’s nothing good about this curse.”
“Not true. I will get another chance with you in my next life.”
“Pfft.” I can’t help laughing through my sorrow. He’s so irritatingly optimistic at times. The laughter doesn’t last long before turning back to weeping. “You probably won’t even remember me. I’ll be an old maid.”
“I’ll always remember you.”
Breaking down, I cradle his head in my hands and press my forehead to his. “Until we meet again, my love,” I whisper.
He takes his final breath, and I sit there for a while, rocking back and forth. His face is peaceful, no longer tinged with constant pain, but I don’t want to believe he’s actually gone. The healers have to pry him from my arms. As they carry him away, my body trembles uncontrollably, the emotions overpowering me. I feel anguish over his loss, but more than that, a violent furor toward the man who took him from me.
Over the following years, I devise various plots to take Erevos down, but he is a powerful magus of influence, and it’s nearly impossible to get him alone. It takes decades for me to catch him slipping one night after leaving a brothel without one of his guards.
“You’re a hard man to get alone,” I say as I pull out a dagger, grab his greasy ponytail, and hold the blade against his neck. It cuts into him just enough to draw blood but not enough to kill. I want him to know why he’s about to die.
“Whatever I’ve done, miss, I’m sure there’s a way we can settle this without further bloodshed.”
“Tell that to my dead husband.”
He pauses for a moment before the recognition dawns on him. “Avlore?”
“Good, you remember. Now you know why you must die.”
He laughs, making me want to vomit. I dig the blade deeper into his neck, and he stops, but I can still see the look of amusement on his face. “And what will you do afterward? No matter where you go, my men will find you and make you beg for death. Is that what Finnegan would want for you?”
“Don’t you dare say his name!” I shout, cutting deeper. “You’re not a quarter the man he was, unfit to even clean the horse dung off his boots.”
I can feel my anger rising, the taste of sweet revenge within reach. But our conversation is cut short by a guard on patrol who grabs me from behind and twists the dagger from my grasp. I cry out in pain as his thick, gauntleted arm wraps around my neck, scraping against the delicate skin.
“Thank you for your assistance, good lad. You will be rewarded handsomely. Take her to my personal dungeons while I think of a proper punishment,” Erevos says with a devilish, covetous grin.
I kick and try to scream, but my airway is blocked. Eventually, I pass out, Erevos’ evil grin the last thing I see.
The next morning, I awaken chained to the damp, musty floor of his dungeon. It remains my living quarters long enough for my desire for revenge to die. Occasionally, Erevos comes to torture me and remind me of my failure, but eventually, he grows bored once I stop reacting, and the visits cease.
His final words to me are, “What a pity. We could have done great things together,” but I elicit no response, not wanting to give him any reason to return. Resolving to spend the rest of my days locked away, the memory of my late beloved is enough to keep me alive.
Several centuries pass, and Erevos falls out of favor after committing countless atrocities. He is stripped of his title and assets and left to die as an old pauper on the streets. Most of his prisoners are pardoned, including myself. When I pass him on the street one day, I feel only pity for what has become of him. Living out the rest of his days this way seems a fair punishment for his crimes.
With my newfound freedom, I travel from town to town, experiencing the innovations that time has wrought. Riding on one of the new magic-powered airships, I embrace the freedom of leaving my past behind. I view a stunning, full-color picture show on a colossal screen with a clever, romantic leading man who reminds me of Finn. Awe-inspiring structures glow with magical light in vast cities, the need for candles and lamps extinguished. Floating metropolises surrounded by picturesque oceans and fluffy clouds dot the coastlines.
Eventually, I settle in a small, quaint town that reminds me of my younger years. I look after the children of the busy wives and tend to a small garden in my spare time.
One day, a woman whose children I look after welcomes her eldest son home from war, and something about him seems familiar. The way he talks and laughs reminds me of Finn. I watch him from a distance, allowing myself to reminisce, but never muster the courage to approach him. Instead, he approaches me one day on my way home.
“I feel like I know you from somewhere,” he says with a smile that nearly gives me a heart attack.
“I highly doubt that, young man. I recently moved to this area while you were away at war.”
“Well, all the same, I’d like to get to know you better. You seem like a cool old lady,” he says, chuckling.
“I assure you there’s nothing remarkable about me,” I protest, but he won’t hear it. Every time I see him after that day, he stops to talk to me.
As time passes and I get to know him, I become even more sure that he is the husband I lost long ago. But I see no point in telling him so. He has his whole life ahead of him, and I’m an old, elven woman at the end of my current lifetime. Who knows how many years it will take me to reincarnate? Things are better with him remembering me this way.
As I lay on my deathbed, he holds my hand gently but firmly, tears welling in his eyes. “This is probably going to sound crazy, Avlore, but I think I remember you from a past life. The story you told me about your husband getting killed by an evil magus feels like a distant memory.”
My eyes widen, and I struggle to speak. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all. You remind me a lot of Finn. I almost told you so, but I didn’t think it would be a good idea.”
“I wish you had told me. Now I feel like I wasted so much time building the courage to tell you how I feel about you.”
“I’m still here...for now.”
“I love you, Avlore, and I never forgot about you.”
Tears trickle down my temples, and the weight of the past lifts from my old heavy body, the longing I felt for centuries finally satiated. “I love you, too. Until we meet again, my love...”
EsmeEvermore

I didn't know what to tag this under but This would just be me bitching moaning.
This woman Is the worst mom in existence. 1 she has had 8 different husbands and multiple boyfriends. It is not good for somebody to be around that 24/7. Nicole's mom doesn't really care about nicole. She has made Nicole move so many times and Nicole even said it herself "you don't really see a point in making friends". (I'm sorry if I didn't get the quote, right). I'm pretty sure (I haven't played through all of the endings) That she knows that her son is a kid liker. She never believes Nicole about anything. It's also heavily employed that she was sexually assaulted when she was 12. Yet she doesn't believe her. In the fact that when Nicole went to prison, Jacka was the only one who visited her. It's really messed up like. Why couldn't you visit your own daughter in prison? It just really makes you think. I feel bad for Nicole's dad Even though I don't know what We don't see much of him. But it seems like Nicole's dad was a decent (Decent, not good) person.

I had a friend, someone I’ve known all my life who was from the “wrong side of the tracks.”
We got along really well, from way back when we were teenagers. he was a couple of years older than me. Everyone from where we lived knew his name and reputation.
I lived at the last bus stop on the whole route.
He was the kind of boy who would be at the back of the bus smoking usually accompanied by all of the local “youths” - Listening to loud music and being the kind of teenagers adults look down upon.
I remember starting secondary school and being terrified of having to get the bus on my own - my parents sent me to the one furthest from our estate.
Whenever I was on my own he would stop whatever he was doing, tell his friends to carry on without him and stay on the bus with me. He wouldn’t move seats until everyone he knew was gone.
As confident as you like he strolled down the bus and slid in to the seat behind me, leaning over and asking me what I was listening to on my headphones - pulled one from my ear and made stupid jokes about boybands.
At first I thought he was going to steal my discman but instead he got aCD from his JD bag out and asked to play it.
He was surprised I knew some of the songs he was listening to.
He would always share headphones with me and have new CD’s he’d got copied, sometimes he’d listen to my CD’s too. He would wait the whole journey & get off at my stop, sometimes we would just sit in the bus stop and chat.
He would walk with me right up to the end of my road, watch me go in to my house safely from a space where my dad wouldn’t see him and then walk all the way back to his house or hang out spot.
It didn’t matter if it was raining or late, he was always there for me all through school and then college. Every day.
I’d sometimes see him out and about in town and he would always stop whatever he was doing, and come and chat. Steal some of my chips and dip them in my ketchup making a mess when I was with my school friends and making sure he made every boy I ever dated feel a bit intimidated.
He was clever, and quick witted and had a brilliant sense of humour, he could do impressions of everyone and knew what to say to boost your confidence. He would listen to all of my problems and give me the best advice. He always told me he was really proud of me.
I ended up moving away and going to university. I remember telling him I was moving away and him saying he was really happy about it but his eyes telling me a different story. He didn’t come to my leaving party.
I heard from others he’d already spent a fair few years in prison by the time I graduated
When I came home one Christmas in my late twenties he happened to be in the same pub in my home town one evening and we started talking.
From this point we never really stopped. He had been through all of the worst things life could throw at you and although I know as adults we make our own choices, I genuinely believe that had he grown up in different circumstances life would have been very different for him.
The whole system has let him down, from right at the beginning, education, employment, housing, mental health services, even prison, probation and addiction services.
I’m really sad that he’s gone.
I fear to others he’s just a statistic, evidence of broken Britain and an example politicians might reference in their latest campaign. The kind of person who people will talk about for a while until the next inevitable premature death.
To me he will always be the charismatic boy who looked out for me and I will always feel like I could or should have done more for him.
The world should not be stacked against you from such an early age.