The Pitch
It is an Age of Chaos.
Good King Omund is dead, and with him died the rule of law in the land. The Duke of Bedegar is dead, his family ambushed and murdered. The Wild seeks to take back everything that once belonged to it. The remaining dukes fight to preserve what civilization is left, but they are distant and isolated. The roads are in disrepair, danger lurks around every corner.
Ajax, called Invincible, now rules here. He pits the different peoples of Vasloria against each other. Elves and men and dwarves; no one quite trusts anyone. This is Ajax’s goal. Religious institutions are outlawed, their churches left in ruin. The old orders are disbanded or subjugated, few continue their attempts to keep the peace and protect the people. The Iron Saint binds the land.
You are a recently founded band of ratcatchers, problem solvers, necessary but apart from proper society. You overwintered in the inn of the Green Dragon, a quiet place in the town of Arlone, east of Bedegar Keep. Now, with the onset of spring, you can set out again towards fortune, glory, honor, hope, or any other grand imaginings. How did you come to be here? Why can’t you go home and live a normal life? What do you want to make of yourself?
The Caelian Road goes south, the way engulfed by two wodes, a savage wilderness where Elves hunt those who enter. Monsters walk the wood. Civilized people do not go there. To the east lies the Dutchy of Faroe, a narrow pass for fools and traders flanked by high mountains teeming with serpents and warring tribes. The Overmen watch keenly from their high aeries for dissidents and outlaws. The vast sea to the west is traveled rarely, only the Overlord’s ships and the less-sane of the Vanirmen dare the dark waters. Things dwell in the deep. North is the powerful Dutchy of Dalrath, with the impenetrable Great Wode beyond. There Civilization and the Wild fight in open war, stone and steel against fangs and demon-flames.
In Bedegar, many small towns sustain themselves against the ever encroaching wilderness, old traditions and ancient pacts seeing new light in the trying times. Some people band together for safety, others stand on the shoulders of the drowned. All will be tested soon enough.
The Campaign
I'm planning to start with a sandbox style of game seeded with lots of classic, modern, and homebrew adventures. Very much D&D-ish pulp fantasy, but with a bit more narrative bits and the pulpy Savage Worlds system.
Some self direction, some encroaching events, lots of interesting roleplay, delving into the wilderness, and the freedom to get yourself into trouble. It’s up to you which fires to put out or threads to pull, and there’s no way to solve every problem or get every treasure. Players will have the opportunity to become embroiled in duchy politics, build alliances, save enemies, join guilds, and fight lots of crazy shit. Later on the threads will turn more towards a linear adventure, as I want to run The Red Hand of Doom once the PC’s have gone around and have a reputation.
Player Buy-In: The pulpy style of play where the GM just drops you in a town with a bunch of hooks and a wild land, then you have to work out your own shit out has to sound cool. Being interested in having your own goals and ambitions and working to fulfill them is always helpful, but just wanting to pull on threads also works. Likewise, wanting to engage and invest in other player's characters and NPC's is the best. Your characters should give a shit, they don’t need to be selfless paragons, but they should be connected to the local area enough to care what happens to it.
Logistics
System: Savage Worlds Adventure Edition (SWADE), with some Fantasy Companion content and a bunch of my own homebrew. Those new to the system are welcome.
Format: Mostly over Discord voice with SavageBot to handle dice/cards. Owlbear Rodeo for battlemaps.
Date/Time: Looking to have a session zero on Friday the 17th, at 7:00 PM CST. Following sessions will be weekly on Friday's at the same time. Sessions will typically be around 4 hours long. This will be a long term campaign, so regular commitment will be required.
Number of Players: Currently three have joined up, two from old campaigns and one new player, looking for probably one or two more.
Feel free to ask questions, if interested DM me with your preferred name/pronouns, your level of experience, a bit about yourself, what you like in a game, and your Discord.

The Hanging Tree By John Westrick

The ball streaked towards little Jimmy Hanson, covering the distance uncomfortably fast. The scrawny boy two sizes too small with the aviator glasses, cringed out of the way. It landed directly where he had been standing, and like that the game ended.
“Damnit Jimmy, you're supposed to catch the ball not hide from it!” a fat kid with a glove on one hand cried.
A skinny boy with glasses turned from the pitcher's mound to look at Jimmy disdain clearly visible on his face, “This is the third run you’ve allowed, and you wonder why we never let you play with us. You’re dog shit! Actually, I apologize to all loads of shit out there, you’re even more useless. I’d prefer to have Roger Morris on our team and he can’t see a damn thing with those bug eyes.”
An easy-going boy with blonde shaggy hair and a confident smile strolled up to Jimmy, extending his hand to assist, and said, “Here let me help you up. After all, you're the best player on our team. MVP hands down. Come on boys, give him a cheer!”
The boys chanted Jimmy’s name in a mocking parade of triumph.
“I don’t need your help, David,” said Jimmy.
Dirt smeared and face growing hot, the embarrassed boy attempted to climb to his feet. The hand extended to help, struck lightning-fast, catching the smaller boy squarely in the chest. With a groan of pain, the dirty boy hit the ground for the second time that afternoon.
“Well, if I knew you liked to eat dirt so much, I never would’ve offered to help,” said David, a wolfish smile forming on the landscape of his face.
A chorus of cruel laughter echoed all around.
“I hate you David Baxly,” said the wheezing boy.
David looked at Jimmy with disgust, giving him a savage kick to his left kidney. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and die. I doubt even your family would miss you.”
The rest of the boys walked away leaving the bleeding Jimmy whimpering on the ground.
No longer crying from pain but seething anger, slowly he began to crawl to his feet. “I wish I could go somewhere else. Just pick up and move and never have to see those shitheads ever again,” said Jimmy speaking to no one in particular.
It was thoughts of revenge that occupied his mind, half-baked plans, he didn't have the courage to act upon. No matter, it wasn’t revenge he truly sought, but a friend. The idea of having people look at him and truly see him. Humiliation for David Baxly was just an added bonus.
The bloody boy was still fantasizing about these things, when he found himself staring at the intersection of Jackson and main street in the sleepy town of Brookhollow, Tennessee. Brookhollow is like many rural towns, so tiny that it doesn’t even appear on the map. There are 876 residents in the tight-knit community, according to the 2008 census. Main street boasts one general store, a gas station, the town hall, and Debbie’s Diner.
It was on the outside of the later building that he saw the missing sign of Jack Dunkin, a 12-year-old boy from a neighboring town a few miles to the west. Jack was from Polk, a slightly larger town and known rival to Brookhollow. Even though Jack was in the same grade as Jimmy, they had never met.
Jimmy looked at the picture and saw that the boy had been missing for nearly 3 months. He wondered how his mom would react if he was missing that long; he reached the conclusion that she probably wouldn’t even notice. Ever since she took that job at Debbie’s to pay for the remainder of her husband’s gambling debts, she was hardly even home.
She was gone when he woke and didn't come back too well after he was asleep. The only time Jimmy had any communication with Laura Hanson was on Sundays. Even this small exposure was tainted by the bone deep exhaustion. She may have been present, even so, she wasn't there. Laura wakes, eats, drinks, uses the bathroom; yet she isn't really living. She reminded the boy of those cheesy horror movies they sometimes play late at night. The walking dead.
As little as his interaction with Laura, at least she still lived in the ramshackle motorhome right off the main highway. His dad, if he even still qualified to be called that, left some time back, draining the joint bank account and leaving the two of them penniless. Jimmy didn’t even know where he stayed, let alone had a phone number for the bastard. A few years back he received a postcard from him. He was shelled up in some two-bit motel in the thriving city of Las Vegas. On the back of the card was a charming little note, it said, “Jimmy, I wish you could see the city. Maybe you could come out and visit. I’d love for you to come and hang with my friends. Ps. Could you have your mom send me some money, I’m in a little bit of trouble here.
This led to his first real fight with his mom. He was adamant on going and meeting his father, thinking that if he got to know him he could change him. Bring him back. His mom wanted nothing to do with the man, nor did she want her son to be hurt again. The argument got heated and words were exchanged. In the end, he stayed, but some things chafe over time. Things were never quite the same.
If the boy was honest with himself, he would have to admit there is no one in his life. He has no friends in school, there is no one waiting for him at home, and he is not a part of any extracurricular activities. He goes to school, comes home, does his homework, makes dinner for his mom, and goes to bed. It has never occurred to him that he is lonely, the fact is he has never known anything else.
Jimmy doesn’t actually live in Brookhollow, his house is about two miles north up highway 29. He lives outside of the school’s jurisdiction, so he is unable to take the bus. He walks to school every day. The walk is peaceful and he actually looks forward to it. The boy possesses an overactive imagination and gets lost in his fantasies. A little less today, his ribs ache with every step. But not even this inconvenience can ruin the solitary 2-mile trek back home. He makes no turns, highway 29 is main street. All he needs to do is walk straight and he will arrive at his house.
But he is not walking in rural Tennessee anymore. He is a pioneer exploring the Great Frontier. Native Americans and wolves stalk him at night, he must be aware of the dangers that lie beyond every turn. He can see his way through any situation with the help of his trusty companion and best friend, One-eyed Pete. Pete used to be an outlaw that robbed and cheated people, but changed his ways when Jimmy saved him from being hung on the hanging tree.
A shutter runs through his body every time he remembers the hanging tree. It’s the largest oak he had ever seen. He loves to climb trees but would never dream of climbing that one. It is twisted, not a single leaf on its branches. If evil was ever a location, it would be at the heart of that gnarled tree. Jimmy doesn’t like to think about it. It always seems to ruin his mood. Poison his mind. His fantasies always turn darker when he thinks of the oak.
Suddenly he is aware of exactly how alone he is. A full mile out from the safety of the town. No one is nearby. It’s just him, the trees, and his own tormented imagination. He wishes he wouldn’t have thought of that tree. He wishes he had a dad to pick him up from school, but there is no rescue for him. In Jimmy’s experience, heroes only exist in the story books.
“The hanging tree is in your mind, Jimmy, it isn't real,” he tells himself over and over as if to ward away evil. And why not? For that tree is most definitely evil, the hideous villain in an insidious plot.
In the primal portion of his mind, he senses danger. The same skittish feeling the antelope experiences shortly before the concealed lion pounces and feasts on flesh.
“Trees don’t eat little boys,” murmurs the frightened boy.
“Maybe so, yet that oak could hardly be classified in the same league as other trees,” responds his own treasonous thoughts.
The boy's mind splinters; warring factions jockeying for supremacy. Paranoia seizes him, inky black hands clawing the air out of his lungs. A young boy unaware of the inward mutiny happening amidst his own wits, completely left to his own demented imagination. Yet, the stakes of this adventure are a great deal higher than any he has yet to experience.
His mother was fond of telling him, “What you think, you become.”
A truly awful thought slinks into his mind unbidden. What if the stories his mind conjures could gain reality too? The thought overwhelms the boy. His eyes shift back and forth searching for threats. Jimmy’s senses are keen to his surroundings. Every twig snapping, a creature stalking. Every bush rustling, a hungry beast ready to devour. Yet, the petty fears of a child's tormented mind pales to the unearthly wrongness of the hanging tree.
“What if mom is right?” says the concerned boy to the emptiness. At this unwelcome thought the boy slams his eyes closed in a futile attempt to banish the horrific idea.
“The hanging tree isn’t real,” says Jimmy, knowing in his heart this isn’t true. In the back of his mind, the boy is certain that the moment he opens his eyes, he will see it. He will see the strands of rope dangling from the gnarled branches. He will smell the smell of decaying bodies. He will hear the creak of rope swaying gently in the cool breeze.
The boy doubles his efforts in a vain attempt to keep his eyes closed. He sees red due to the strain he is putting on his muscles. He hears the steady pulse of his blood rushing in his head. The boy also understands that all this effort is for naught. He must open his eyes at some point. Jealousy creeps into the boy’s heart. Envy for the man born without sight. For the boy understands the moment he sees, there will be no coming back.
The moment has come.
Jimmy can no longer keep his eyes shut. Seconds before his eyes fling open, he feels the gentle touch of someone's hand on his shoulder. This touch startles him, and the boy throws wide his eyes.
Sure enough a few hundred yards in front of him, stands the abomination. A lone tree on the top of a bald, scarred hill. Not a living thing to be seen. No vegetation growing on the hill, no squirrels scuttling about, just a great oak, standing; an obscene gesture to the god of this world. The only fruit of this tree the decaying flesh of dead men, and likewise, the only cup the curdled blood of those hanging. A final meal set for the boy, an unholy communion.
The hand, whose was it? Was it even human? The little boy left visibly shaking at the touch of the unknown. Is this death? The icy grip of the Reaper himself here to harvest with his scythe. No marriage, no children, not knowing the pleasures of true friendship. Life cut short, a lamentable state of affairs.
It was in this line of thought, where true courage was mustered. A strength measured not by the size of his muscles or the amount one could lift, but the more impressive type, the type quantified in the amount of shit one can wade. Identified in the amount of crap hands dealt without bowing out altogether. Young Jimmy Hanson did the unthinkable, he turned and faced death looking it in the eyes.
Eyes, yes, but death perhaps not. It was no titan of horror, nor was it the poster child of demented evil. Child it was, but this boy was familiar. Not anyone from his class, yet he knew the boy. In a moment of clarity, he recognized him. It was the missing kid, Jack Dunkin.
He looked identical to the poster on the side of Debbie’s Diner. He wore the same black and white Van’s tee shirt, ripped blue jeans, and some tattered Nike tennis shoes. The thoroughly terrified Jimmy stood staring at the missing boy, mouth ajar.
Jack with an easy-going grin plastered on his face, said, “It's about time, someone comes looking for me. I've been waiting for you Jimmy, far too long.”
With an audible click the boy shut his gaping mouth and responded, “Ja- Jack, you've been missing for nearly three months. Have you been out here all along? Are you alone? Are you hurt?” Jimmy fired these questions in rapid succession, growing more suspicious with each word.
“I’ve been right here, waiting for you to come and play with me. You see, I am like you. I never had anyone to play with either. Now you are here, and you must stay with me,” said the bigger boy with a smile on his face.
Jimmy’s mind quieted, for the first time in his life he saw himself clearly. A boy with no friends, no father, hardly a mother, bullied every day, and no way of escape. Clarity revealed the harsh truth. A day had not gone by that he wasn’t lonely. There was no one in his life. There was no life for him.
The undersized boy looked at the other with longing in his eyes. He thirsted for a friend, like a man lost at sea. He hungered for companionship, like a man stuck in the wilderness. It wasn’t just a desire; he was desperate for a friend. If the bigger boy would leave, Jimmy felt as if his soul would tear in half. His heart would shatter into a thousand pieces unable to be put back together. The boys' eyes were a mirror reflecting the same sad truth, they understood each other. Both had lived, and neither had anyone to share it with.
The boys bound by shared hardships grasped onto each other refusing to let go. The combined burden of loneliness lessened by two backs, instead of one.
With few words exchanged, the two of them created soul ties. Not the ties of lovers, but of lifelong friends. The type one dies for. The rare type of friendship that most people never form in their entire life. It was rich. It was wholesome. Jimmy felt as if his life was complete. The one thing he always desired truly fulfilled.
Jack grabbed the smaller boy’s hand and guided him towards the tree.
Jimmy, not wanting to get anywhere near that monstrosity, tried to pull back.
“Don’t worry. The tree is a good place. It will take us to a new land filled with boys and girls just like you and I. No David’s or bullies like him,” said a smiling Jack.
“How did you know about David? You’ve been missing all this time,” said a concerned looking Jimmy.
“Jimmy, I hear whispers. My friends tell me things. They will tell you secrets too. If you want to be friends with me, that is.” The bigger boy looked down at his ragged shoes. He looked so pitiful and Jimmy was so starved for companionship, how could he not follow the boy.
Jack led the two of them to the scarred trunk of the tree. Here he let go of Jimmy’s hand, telling the boy, “Do exactly what I do.”
Jimmy’s fear bottled up deep in his guts. He felt as if he was going to explode. The tree was sinister and twisted. Evil through and through. Yet, the little boy had never had a friend. He was not willing to throw that away so easily.
Jack walked to the lowest hanging branch. He reached up and grabbed one of the dangling nooses. He wrapped it around his neck and looked at Jimmy. “Don’t worry, no pain is felt. The hanging tree is magic. You’ll close your eyes on this world, and wake up in a better place with me and all of my friends,” said a smiling Jack.
“Ja-Jack, I don’t think I can do this. It seems dangerous. I need to go back home soon. My mom will be waiting for me,” said a terrified Jimmy.
A heartbroken Jack looked at the smaller boy and said, “Jimmy, I can’t believe you would lie to me. Your mom isn’t home and she wouldn’t even notice that you are missing. Come with me. I am the only one who cares for you.”
Tears streaming down the smaller boy’s face, he responded, “Please don’t make me do it! This place frightens me. Can’t you just come home with me?”
“No! This world despises people like you and me. We weren’t made for it. We were made for the hanging tree. This is where you belong,” snarled the bigger boy.
Jimmy, eyes still running, reached with trembling hands for the dangling noose. He seized it. With one final glance at his friend, the little boy placed the loop around his neck. Immediately the noose drew tight. It felt as if the tree was hauling him up by it. The boy kicked and squirmed. Trying to shout for help, but his airflow was cut off. He managed to make a choking noise, then with one final twitch all was still. Still as the glassy surface of a lake on a spring day.
Little Jimmy Hanson had finally made a friend.
The two boys remained dangling together, gently swaying in the stale autumn breeze.

Ok so I’m newly single and just started using Bumble. I came across a guy and he and I liked each other and started chatting. We seem to hit it off and we agreed to get together for drinks on Saturday and set a time and place. His last comment to me was “dress sexy” which I though was fun and flirty. He told me multiple times how attractive I was. Then, a number of days went by without us chatting and our chat has disappeared. It shows as “older chat” and his face is greyed out. So I’m confused, is this just Bumble putting an expiration date on your chat f you don’t keep it up or did he ghost me? I’m not sure whether to show up on Saturday or not. Please be kind.I haven’t been single in years and it’s my first time ever on a dating app

Hello All,
First time poster here. For background, I have a little bit of experience in brewing, but nothing crazy. (TL;DR at bottom)
Backstory since a lot of people seem to request it with these types of threads:
Okay, so, a while back I harvested the last of my red peppers outside. (No idea the strain, grew from seeds from a buddy, they grew upright instead of drooping like normal peppers. Might have been Thai, but they were also yellow/green/red, I think I even saw a couple orange. I digress.) Like most pepper growers, I had a ton left over that I didn't know what to do with, so I decided to try fermenting them. I tried grinding them up, adding a bit of water, threw an airlock on (the classic water one with a floating bell), and assumed the abundant yeast would be enough to get anaerobic fermentation going (I have multiple sourdough cultures and never have a problem).
At first everything was going great, the airlock was bubbling right along, then it stopped after a week or so, and I took a wiff. Smelled heavily like alcohol and I could smell a bit of vinegar coming through. Great, I thought. Here's where I think I made my first problem: I put the airlock back on and left it for another week or so. I smelled it again a week later and it smelled a bit more like vinegar, but still heavily alcoholic. At this point I googled hotsauce/vinegar fermentation and most results were saying vinegar needed aerobic instead of anaerobic fermentation. However, I've also seen a good amount of people, including posts in this subreddit, saying that vinegar needs a tight lid or an airlock, i.e., an anaerobic environment. I chose aerobic and threw a tight cloth over the rim of the jar and tightened the ring so it could get airflow but prevent bugs and whatnot.
A couple days ago, I went to check, and there is a solid amount of Kahm yeast growing over the topic. Looks exactly like the ACV post from today. Smells heavily like vinegar, but kind of an off smell. Did some research on that and most people are saying to filter it off, but some are saying to leave it. So now I'm kind of at a crossroads.
So I want to ask some clarifying questions, I'm gonna number them if that helps people answer:
1) At the start, should I be adding a pinch of yeast, like Active Dry? 2) Should I remove the airlock after initial alcohol fermentation to allow airflow for the vinegar to form or should there always be an airtight seal (i.e., is that headspace between the liquid and the lid enough O₂)? 3) Regarding the Kahm, should I filter it off, just leave it, or scrap the whole thing and start anew? 4) How do you "introduce" acetobacter, I'm seeing this a lot but not sure how, should I try and find a MoV or what do you guys do?
TL;DR Ground up peppers, left to ferment, left airlock on after initial fermentation, then removed it, Kahm formed, and now I'm asking questions above.
HUGE Thank You in advance to anyone who can help with answers. I truly appreciate any information.

For example, it will send me to address number 142 when the address the customer put in the app is 144. This keeps happening repeatedly.
Aside from how easily this could lead to a cv if I'm not paying close attention, I keep pulling into the wrong driveway because of it.

I don't think anyone can argue with how they feel when they are reported and temporarily banned, be it for 30 minutes 48 hours or whatever.
It is frustrating, especially if you are someone that plays beyond the free levels and have over many years put actual money in the game.
Everyone can report now, in every game and people can group report just because someone says 'report this player'... sheep follow and report. The majority of players have faced that - but that doesn't make it right, or a fair system.
There are of course clear differences as to why people should be reported - player constantly feeding with no regard for safety and fights vs 4 in jungle solo against someone who has died alot through targeting due to being support with support items are two different matters- your allies wont see your gameplay normally just snippets when they themselves have died and report from there.
Receiving a non play ban in this circumstance for example is confusing and counter productive. It alienates peoples, stops them playing the game, and disincentives them from actually putting real money into the game.
Lets be honest, real player numbers have dwindled its taken 8 months for the game to receive a gameplay update, and the community is feeling let down.
It is clear we need some change, and we can start with the bug bear so here are my suggestions:
1- Introduce a comments section to the overwatch reporting section - those overseeing must input feedback as to why you have received a ban
2 - Provide a representation as to how close you are to a ban to encourage 'better' behaviour e.g a scale 1-10 reports in x amount of time that is only visible to the player
3- Provide a pop up warning saying you have received x amount of reports in x amount of time, if you incur further reports in the next x amount of time you will be banned for x amount of time.
4- Openly categorise the infringements showing the players privately where they stand. There are differences between being banned for cheating against playing a bad game or having a momentary lack of communication dexterity. Just mute those who cannot communicate for a couple of games, rather than stop them playing.
5- Push more people into LP and increase the number of LP games from reports as opposed to stop them from playing for hours/days/weeks on end as doing so is counter productive.
Ultimately... I know the devs don't care about 99% of the gamers, they just want to make money from them. They are only bothered about esports.
But there seriously wont be much of a community left if they cannot realise gamers are human, and we all share the same characteristics and continue to punish players for those attributes.
I am speaking as someone who has over 14 thousand hours in this game, with a guild which was active but is now only largely active when there is something going on like an event.
Were not fooled by the current event - the prospect of have to buy MULTIPLE 'battle passes' to complete the extra lanes of the acts is pretty despicable and shows there is little understanding of how the current reporting system is affecting the player based. Trying to gauge money from loyal players to fill the gaps from those you've pushed away is like car dealerships raising prices in a recession.
Hopefully some of what i've said will resonate with someone, and perhaps there will be some other intelligent suggestions below.... then again...
This is reddit....

Over the last 5 years I've had a girl harassing me. She's made public threats of physical violence against me, attempted to doxx me, and shared revenge porn of me on X. (I'm not even sure where she got the nude photo she shared either) I have reported her and the only law that was broken was the revenge porn she shared. Everything else was considered civil. I'm just wondering if I can share what she's done to me to let other people know of her behavior and how far she's willing to take things or would sharing possibly compromise the case that's pending with the DA for the revenge porn. I'm exhausted and tired of staying quite about all the nasty things she's putting me through while pretending she's a victim instead of the perpetrator. I don't want to risk messing up any criminal case or civil case if it comes down to it. Thanks in advance

I saw Jeff at a grocery store in Virginia Beach yesterday. I told him how cool it was to meet him in person, but I didn’t want to be a douche and bother him and ask him for photos or anything.
He said, “Oh, like you’re doing now?” I was taken aback, and all I could say was “Huh?” but he kept cutting me off and going “huh? huh? huh?” and closing his hand shut in front of my face. I walked away and continued with my shopping, and I heard him chuckle as I walked off. When I came to pay for my stuff up front I saw him trying to walk out the doors with like fifteen Milky Ways in his hands without paying.
The girl at the counter was very nice about it and professional, and was like “Sir, you need to pay for those first.” At first he kept pretending to be tired and not hear her, but eventually turned back around and brought them to the counter.
When she took one of the bars and started scanning it multiple times, he stopped her and told her to scan them each individually “to prevent any electrical infetterence,” and then turned around and winked at me. I don’t even think that’s a word. After she scanned each bar and put them in a bag and started to say the price, he kept interrupting her by yawning really loudly.

This has come up a bit in other posts and in my own playgroup. I figure it's worth a little discussion. I always remember a quote from a Game Design Conference video I watched - "Players are excellent at identifying problems, and horrible at coming up with solutions for them" - so I'll be light on the suggestions, because they're probably ass 😉
Why do I want fellow faction teammates around?
There are some obvious positive aspects.

• PvP defense/numbers
• They might have a key you need
• Potential for fun interactions/grouping up on quests that allow it
• Distraction for enemy AI
• They might help if you message them

When I start to think of the negatives, and how my group has responded to having "blueberries" nearby in game...

• Blue on blue threat on PvP servers, it's gotten better, but there is always the threat that they misidentify and kill you
• Fighting for kills on kill quests
• Fighting to reach the bosses first
• Chance of them looting you if you die nearby
• Potential for them to alert the AI in an area, could be helpful, could get you killed
• Fighting over helicopter spots

I think going forward, once we get past the initial launch punch list, looking at ways to make your faction mean more would be awesome. We should want to work together, ally up, and not have to feel like we're putting one another out by accidentally taking their kills, etc.
There will always be a risk of blue on blue, but the benefits of allies should outweigh the negatives, and currently, the negatives tend to be much more severe whereas the positives are nice, but not necessary when it comes with a chance of death/being looted.
My few suggestions...

• Harder PvE be it through more AI in terms of numbers, or harder in terms of difficulty. It would be nice to feel like I need their help. I know some people think the AI is too hard, but I'm finding that the majority of the areas currently are not that difficult, particularly after your first venture through them.
• Some sort of faction chat
• Map symbols, maybe a map symbol that acts quite literally as a group invite; ie: I place a 'quest here' marker over by Ban Pa, and folks who need it can click join, and head that way.
• Shared objective credit for kill quests for both normal AI and bosses. PMCs are not one man armies.
• The ability to have your helicopter be open, or not; meant as a way to prevent griefers from hopping on and fucking with you.
• Maybe give players a few different starting branch options after the main town to spread people out a bit, so we aren't all on top of one another, with over half the faction trying to do the same thing. Even if we did share the reward, it isn't exactly rewarding to plow through the AI with a horde of faction mates, at least at the current AI spawn/difficulty levels.

That's all. Loving the game, nearly ~70 hours in so far, but the reality is, I'd largely be just as happy playing with just my squad on the side of my faction. I've had some great interactions with faction members, but the negative ones end up being the ones you remember more easily, and the ones that tend to waste the most of your playtime. Got any ideas to make being on a faction more fun, meaningful, and rewarding for everybody?

My hands are shaking as I write this, I have to document my story incase something happens to me in the next few days. I'm not sure where to begin but I suppose here is better than anywhere.
I've always had this weird feeling, this sensation inside of me that I was older than I actually was. By the time I was twelve, my soul felt as though it was forty. By the time I reached twenty, I felt like an old woman. I would watch people around my age acting foolish, and I always thought, "What a bunch of children." So it was no surprise to anyone that when I turned twenty-one, I left my hometown and college and decided to spend the summer alone by renting an old farmhouse in an insignificant town on the edge of an even more insignificant border.
When I told my mother, she had a veritable fit, unable to find the words. She spluttered and raged around me for days before I finally left early one morning to avoid her guilt and frustration with my choices. I was not sure why I craved solitude at such a young age, why I found solace in being alone and removed from society.
In high school, I had changed unexpectedly, cutting my long blonde hair short and dying it black, getting piercings that my mother loathed and claimed no young lady should have. You see, my mother was raised proper, as she called it. Good family, good husband, and finally a good life. She despised her perfect life being squashed by my alternative looks and feelings of the same world. She just didn't understand me or the world as it changed around her. I felt like I was just a trophy to her and my father, her perfect angel who had been tainted by my own demented thoughts.
I never told my parents where I was staying, one last rebellious mission before leaving for a few months, and it took me only a few hours to arrive at the farmhouse where I would be staying for the next few months. The land around the farm was dead or dying, old crops rose out of the dry dusty earth and had turned black and forgotten, as if this land was the example of dreams long forgotten and empty. A single dreary lane connected this desolate farmhouse to the rest of the world. On the outside, it was drab and looked as though it would fall apart. It had two stories but still seemed cramped and small, as if it were a single floor tied to the ground.
Across from the house, bordering the tall weeds that had reclaimed much of the farmland, stood a maudlin-looking faded red barn, one door propped open in a dejected manner revealing naught to me but shadows, dust, and a little mystery.
Next to the barn, staked into the ground on an old-looking cross, was a ragged scarecrow. It had drab brown clothing, but its face was oddly realistic, like it was watching me with a disapproving manner. Straw poked through its joints at odd angles like they were trying to break free from their confines. The scarecrow obviously didn't do its job as it was covered in no less than three crows.
I parked my car next to the barn and stepped out into the dusty yard before the farmhouse that I would make my home for the next few months. I checked under the front mat for the key and put it in the lock.
With a satisfying click, the door fell inward into the farmhouse. Surprisingly, the inside of the farmhouse was modern, clean, and looked quite inviting. I could smell the fresh paint on the walls, and everything was so white. The realtor had told me she would stop by tomorrow to collect the rent, and she had tried to chat my ear off on the phone about all the renovations she and her son were doing on the place.
I sighed with contentment and tossed my bags beside the door. I dug around in my bag and removed my camera, my father's old film shooter as he called it. I had taken up the hobby years ago for what I called capturing the oddity in the world.
I explored the small house a little more; the ground floor consisted of a single room and small bathroom with a shower. The bedroom was upstairs and was the only room, the stairs connected directly to the white and pink monstrosity that was the master bedroom. The pillows had laces on them and almost made me gag from the cuteness. There was even cute white lace curtains on the window with little flowers stitched onto them.
Out of the only window of the room, I could see the barn and the scarecrow. I aimed my camera at the pair and snapped a photo. From this angle, the scarecrow appeared to be staring straight at me. It stood next to the left side of the barn in a dejected manner like a chastised child.
A shudder involuntarily ran through me at the sight, but I moved on back downstairs. It was getting close to dinner time now, and I had brought some food with me.
After a few minutes, I had my dinner on the stove cooking and the crickets chirping outside the open window. As I sat down to eat next to the window, I felt at peace for one of the first times in years. The solitude of this old farm was exactly what I needed. The window supplied a nice breeze that wafted through the place, it smelled of grass and warm summer nights, made me feel at peace. The simple dish of spaghetti with tomato sauce and a glass of wine was all that I needed right here, right now in this moment.
That night I climbed into the frilly laced bed and sunk into the claustrophobic mattress. I felt like Goldilocks in the mama bear's bed as it was altogether too soft. From my perfumed bed, I had a good view out the window. I had left the porch light on, and it cast an eerie glow across the yard. The barn loomed ominously, stalwart against the light of the porch, like it was protecting the shadows from the battering ram of light. The somber scarecrow leaned against the left side of the barn.
With a small jump, I thought I saw its arm move slightly. I peered through my camera using the zoom to get a better view of the scarecrow. It was completely still in the night, and I laughed quietly to myself at my silliness. I had always enjoyed horror movies, but there was no chance I was living in one. I settled back into bed and put my camera down. Within a few minutes, I fell into sleep's warm embrace.
What felt like only a few minutes later, I sat up in bed. It was still dark out, I could hear crickets chirping through the open window, and I strained my ears for a moment.
I thought something had woken me up. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as a cold breeze wafted in through the window. I pulled the frilly blanket up around myself when I heard it. A thud sounded below me, shaking the whole world into silence. The crickets stopped chirping, and my heart felt like it had stopped beating. Someone was in the house. I hadn't locked the door or closed the kitchen window, and now someone was downstairs. A second thud sounded like a boot on the staircase. Then another and another as something was slowly moving up the stairs towards the room.
I don't know why I did it, but something came over me. I wasn't big or especially brave, but my normal cowardice in social situations changed instantly. With a dash, I tore across the room, flicking on the lights, ready to face my attacker, to defend myself against male or female. I would fight, and I would win.
But as the lights turned on, ready to strike with my foot, nothing was there. The staircase was empty, and upon further inspection, the entire house was empty. The kitchen window was open, and I shut and locked it securely before checking the door. Nothing. I sat down on the couch, my heart pounding out of my chest, as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
"I must have still been half-asleep," I said aloud to the room in a thinly veiled attempt to calm my nerves. It failed horribly, but I went with it. What else could you do in a situation like that?
After locking up the house, I went back up to that frilly four-poster bed in the bedroom and stared out the window. Nothing was in the yard except my car, the barn, and the same old sad-looking scarecrow staring across the yard.
Day 2
The next morning, I woke up to the soft light filtering through the lace curtains. Despite the strange events of the previous night, I felt strangely refreshed, as if the morning sun had chased away the shadows that lingered in my mind.
I descended the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under my weight, and headed to the kitchen. As I brewed a pot of coffee, my mind wandered back to the events of last night. Was it just a figment of my imagination, or was there really someone in the house?
Shaking off the unease, I decided to explore the farmhouse in the daylight. I wandered through the room, admiring the modern renovations that clashed with the rustic exterior. The farmhouse had a charm to it, despite its eerie surroundings.
As I made my way outside, the cool morning air greeted me, and I took a deep breath, letting the serenity of the countryside wash over me. The barn stood tall against the backdrop of the morning sky, and the scarecrow seemed to watch me as I crossed the yard.
I approached the barn, curiosity getting the better of me. Pushing open the creaky door, I stepped inside, the musty scent of hay filling my nostrils. The interior was dimly lit, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls.
I explored every nook and cranny of the barn, but found nothing out of the ordinary. As I turned to leave, something caught my eye. In the corner of the barn, hidden beneath a pile of old blankets, was a small wooden chest.
My heart racing with anticipation, I lifted the lid of the trunk and peered inside. What I found took my breath away. It was a collection of old photographs, yellowed with age, depicting scenes from a bygone era. They were of a man with his family, two young kids, and a beautiful young wife. The man had yellow blonde hair, almost like straw in texture, but he smiled so happily with his family.
I sifted through the photographs, my fingers trembling with excitement. Who had left these behind, and why? Each photograph seemed to tell a story, a glimpse into the past of this forgotten farmhouse.
As I sat there, lost in thought, a sudden noise jolted me back to reality. It was the sound of footsteps coming from outside the barn.
"Hello?" The dreamy voice of a woman called to me from the entrance to the barn.
I slammed the lid of the trunk shut, closing the memories up in a flurry as I spun around to be greeted by a quite pretty woman with blonde hair and a pink suit skirt combo. She had bright pink lipstick, that seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face, and quite shiny and sparkly blue eye shadow on her lids. I myself only wore black eyeliner. This woman was like Barbie in her proportions, thin waist, long hair, and large tracts of land, as my father would have said.
"Oh, hello," I said simply, always awkward in normal social situations.
If she noticed anything odd about me, she breezed over it in an easy manner. Taking me by the shoulders, she led me out of the dusty barn and into the yard.
"You must be Polly. We have been waiting a while for you to come. I simply must know what you think of the renovations to the house. Aren’t they just to die for?" The lady said all in one breath, as if she didn’t need air to speak.
"Yes, they are quite nice..." I started before she cut me off, not in a rude manner but instead in one that she would have continued on even if I had just told her I was not Polly and instead I was a mass murderer looming for my next victim.
"You see, me and my son Eli—yes, Eli, you stop lurking in the shadows over there," she said, continuing on as I noticed a younger man leaning up against the barn. He wore simple clothes of jeans and a white t-shirt but had a handsome face. His hair was brown and hung slightly over his eyes.
"I hope you don’t mind if my son here continues working on some renovations while you stay here? Strictly on the outside of the house, mind you. A fresh coat of white paint would make this little beauty shine. We would have finished by now if not for the accidents," she continued, completely unabashed by my silence.
"Sorry. But you are the realtor?" I said, trying to regain my feet under me.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry, dear!" she said with an affable cackle.
"Yes, yes, I am Barbara, but all my friends call me Barb. That over there is Eli. Eli, come say hi," Barb said while her painted talons rested firmly on my shoulder.
Eli stomped over, keeping his eyes low, in a sort of moody way that actually intrigued me, sort of.
When he glanced up at me, I noticed he drank in me from head to toe, and for the first time, I realized what I was wearing. An old rock t-shirt of one of my favorite bands and, of all things, my black pajama bottoms with cartoon bats on them that said "happy halloween."
I felt my face blush crimson as he made eye contact with me. He had very mysterious eyes of blue that seemed to cut right through my soul.
"Nice shirt," he said while gesturing to me. His voice was quiet and uncertain, as if he didn’t get much practice with the art. Knowing his mother, it seemed highly accurate.
"Thanks. Do you like them?" I asked.
"Oh, he likes all sorts of things, don’t you, Eli? Honestly, you two can gab on forever. But miss, I believe we have a small matter of payment," Barb said, drawing the conversation back to herself.
"Of course. Let me go get it," I said as I went back into the house and retrieved the envelope with the rent money in it.
Barb grabbed the envelope in her bright pink talons and snapped a piece of bubblegum between her teeth. With quick fingers, she leafed through the cash, counting it. As she counted, her normal bubbly personality seemed to disappear, giving way to what I gleaned was her true thoughts and feelings before the facade slipped on once again.
"Mmkay, perfect honey, this is the right amount. Now you have my number, so you call if you need anything. Like I said earlier, Eli will stop by from time to time to work on painting the house. I promise you he won’t be an imposition, just pay him no mind," Barb said in a sweet voice as she popped her gum in between each word.
"Eli, come on, please, I have an appointment in town," Barb said to her son, and they both climbed into a garish pink convertible with jewels hanging from the mirror wrapped in a gold chain.
Barb waved one last time as she sped off out of the driveway, covering me in dust as she spun the wheel around.
With their departure, I went inside and retrieved my camera. I spent a few minutes shooting a few pictures I thought were worthy. I re-entered the barn and pulled the old trunk out into the sunshine. Inside was only a handful of photos, some old clothes, and what looked like some old heirlooms. A beautifully old candlestick and a few leather-bound books lay at the bottom, covered by an old tablecloth. The tablecloth was a nice white with intricate swirling patterns inlaid around the edges.
Why would these things be packed away in here? They were so beautiful. I decided to bring the stuff inside for further inspection. As I lifted the trunk, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something move in the tall grass at the edge of the property. I stared for a minute, but nothing moved again. I must be getting jumpy being alone like this. After last night and then this, I was just imagining things.
I brought the items inside and spread them out. I put the tablecloth on the table, and it hung low to the ground. I placed the candlestick by the window and took out the photos again, spreading them out.
The photos told me a story of a loving family that obviously lived in the farmhouse before me. They had a photo next to the barn, with a brand new looking scarecrow in the back. The man even had his arm around it; it looked so much cleaner and proper in this photo. I stared outside at the sad-looking scarecrow.
I took my camera and the photo and went outside to stand next to the scarecrow. His post hung kind of crooked in the earth like it was weighed down by the scarecrow.
I snapped a photo of the scarecrow as it was, then examined the original photo. I began resettling the post in the ground, but it kept sagging. I decided to pull him out of the ground and move him while I added more dirt to his hole. With some effort, I reseated him into his original hole. He already looked better, but I straightened his clothes and pulled out the last bits of straw that stuck out of his clothes. When I was finished, I looked back at him and took a photo, smiling while I did so at my work.
I then spent some time sweeping the front porch and banging the dust out of the cushions before I curled up on a wicker chair with plump cushions for a few hours reading a book I had brought with me.
I felt quite content at this place. The sounds of the crickets began again, putting me at ease as the sun began to descend. I had spent the entire day just relaxing, and it was perfect. I sat sprawled out in the chair, too lazy to go and make dinner or even move. My bladder was full, but I waited until the last moment before dashing inside and relieving myself.
That's when I noticed it, out in the yard. It seemed as if the scarecrow had moved closer. Once shrouded by the barn slightly, it now had moved a few steps into the light from the porch. My heart dropped at the sight. Not again, I must be asleep on the porch in the chair. I pinched myself, trying to wake up, but all I received was a sore arm.
I closed my eyes, then rubbed them, hoping to dispel whatever plagued my mind, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed the scarecrow was even closer. Halfway across the yard now, it sat menacingly, hanging crooked in the dirt. The scarecrow seemed to be staring at me with an intense gaze. The slits in its face were open now, and in the porch light, I swear I could see human eyes underneath the mask.
I moved towards the front door, locking it in a swift motion. I was shaking now, and it took me a minute to relax. I never took my eyes off the scarecrow for fear of it moving again.
My cellphone was upstairs, so I couldn't flee without the scarecrow moving again. I breathed out slightly and unlocked the door, letting it swing in with a creak. The night outside was silent, as if everything was holding its breath. The usual crickets that plagued me with their song day and night had fallen quiet. I stepped out onto the porch; I needed to go confront this demonic entity. Something about this still made me think this was a prank.
"Eli, is that you?" I called out to the scarecrow.
No response, of course. I steeled myself and put one foot off the porch, never taking my eyes off the scarecrow before me. Something seemed to be dripping from its head as I approached, a dark slime that seemed to be melting from its joints as it stood there silently, except for the constant drip of the liquid on the dry dirt before me.
I walked around the scarecrow, determined to figure out what was going on. As I circled it, my vision darkened for a moment as I faced towards the light of the house. I jumped as the scarecrow's head turned to face me as I looked away. The black liquid drained faster from the being, forming a shallow pool at its feet.
I'm not proud of what I did next, but I fled, taking my eyes off the scarecrow. I made a mad dash for the farmhouse. Behind me, I could hear the pounding of feet. I screamed as loud as my lungs would let me. My voice rang through the silence as I grabbed the door handle and wrenched open the door as I felt a strong grip fall on my shoulder.
I turned to defend myself, but nothing was there. The scarecrow was gone, the wooden cross had vanished, as had the pool of dark liquid in the dirt. The world sprung back to life; the crickets began chirping loudly, and my heart restarted. I slammed the door, and the air from my force scattered the photographs on the table. I ran upstairs, leaving the lights on in the house, and dove onto the bed, wrapping myself in the frilly blanket like a set of frilly armor.
I snatched my camera from the bedside table and held it close, determined to document the rest of the night. I held it in shaking hands as the noise downstairs began—the sound of boots crossing the floor to the stairs and the careful but heavy steps of ascension as they climbed closer and closer to me.
This time, I didn't lunge forward as the light was already on. I glanced out the window, but the scarecrow was still gone. I focused my camera on the stairs and waited as the steps came closer and closer. A shape began to form as the head of whatever was coming up the stairs crested the floor. Then a plain brown mask with slits where the eyes would be. It froze for a moment, then slowly turned its head towards me. Inside the slits were human eyes that seemed to be leaking dark red blood.
In the light, I could see it now. I snapped a photo of the beast, the flash setting off a reaction in the beast. The scarecrow moved so fast up the stairs it was a blur. My scream echoed throughout the house as it lunged at me. Filthy hands pinned me down, and the deep crimson liquid began pouring out of every joint of the scarecrow. It began covering my face, my eyes, and getting into my open mouth. I spluttered and kicked at the beast, but my blows had no purchase, as if the scarecrow on top of me had no substance to itself.
I coughed and spluttered on the liquid as it began to fill my mouth faster and faster. I tried not to swallow any, but it tried to find purchase as I was held down.
"Polly?" A nervous voice called from below.
Suddenly, as if the angels had called, the pressure dissipated, and I crashed to the floor in a heap, trying to spit the blood out, but nothing came—it was gone. Footsteps pounded up the stairs again, and I flew back in fear, closing my eyes.
"Oh my god. Polly, are you okay?" A voice said, and gentle hands grabbed my arm.
My eyes shot open at the human touch, and I grabbed Eli into a tight hug, where I promptly began sobbing in fear, my whole body shaking as Eli awkwardly hugged me.
"Don't worry, it's going to be okay," Eli said patiently to me as he hugged me back gently and began stroking my back.
I shivered in a choking sob and fell into his arms, desperately wanting to believe him, and for some reason, I did.

Tarot Reader since 2017 who has fully mastered in depth readings to bring true insight to the energies and circumstances you are dealing with, with the use of Oracle and Astrology as well. Shaneka's Services And Contact Linktree
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I would like to preface this with the fact that i DO think Kenzie is winning. Before yall come for me! Bc i realise any opinion thats not backing up Kenzie winning or supports anyone else winning is “bad edgic” according to yall. But anyways
I wanna explore more of Kenzies flaws and red flags! Just because we only see constant posts about how she is obviously the winner etc etc.
More OTT mean girl vibes than Dee imo in the premerge with Bhanu Jess and Jelinsky. Sloppy obvious social game seen by Q and Tiff (showcased in a neg light by the edit as they highlight them all seeing thru her and it makes her a target). Also even Bhanu sorta gives low-key NSPV - but Bhanu is all over the place i get it. And he does crown her the mermaid dragon of the season.
What are yall talking about? Montage with dodo music and clowns her (literally not needed to be included at all. The edit goes out of its way to dunk on her)
“One of you cant win, you will not get the votes at the end” in jeffs speech. When he says these words it pans on to kenzie. I saw someone spin this as to alluding to her winning.. but like if u watch that scene IMO its actually showing why kenzie wont win and get votes at the end and will lose to a siga member. As siga gets pans of gelling. If she wins i think this was more of a throw us off the scent thing rather than tryin to hint she WINS.
Yanu and their consistant theme of being Losers + tiffany in ep 2. “We are LOSERS” with an immediate pan to kenzie struggle to make a fire
Kenzie saying she needs to blindside tiff for her resume - then NOT getting to do that and losing credit.
Kenzie saying she wants Q out and hes still there
Kenzie saying Venus is my new number 1 and that the boys (ben and charlie) dont wanna boot Q bc they may become bigger targets, but she doesnt wanna boot venus bc thatd apply to her- then proceeds to boot Venus despite the edit suggesting shed vote Q.
Kenzie talking about how Charlie is Marias jester and underestimating him (whilst the edit explicitly backs up and tells us that Charlie is NOT marias jester, in fact the edit highlights all season how if anything Charlie is equals or making the decisions, and also the edit props up charlie and goes out of its way to highlights how he isnt her jester and that he is intentional in his gameplay and wants maria to get sole credit so shes a target etc etc. ). Whether thats good or bad for charlie is another story, but its still not great for Kenzie to be shown to be so wrong on her read of charlies game and its a theme she has in multiple different eps. She is plain wrong and the edit doesnt hide that fact. In fact it has her being wrong directly after we see scenes contradicting her statements. So the viewer is thinking shes getting played.
Kenzie getting DODO music whilst talking about how poor Venus is at idol searching (a scene coming directly after V finds the idol and says shes pretending to look- therefore highlighting her fooling/outplaying Kenzie) - people say kenzie is redeemed by saying “i guess she may have already found the idol and is bamboozling us all”. - but she contradicts that save immediately by saying “but i think shes just waiting for someone whos close to her to find it”. So she is definitely being bamboozled.
Kenzie also doesnt really have her relationships with Hunter established we are just told shes apparently his number 1 last minute.
The big 6 alliance- we hear kenzie find out about it from Q (she doesnt comment on it) she says “yeh i heard about the 6” implying she found out already about it, yet we still got no mention on the 6 and how she felt about it and being left out, if she was concerned or not about it, etc etc… Charlie we did hear talk about it and accurately immediately call it out for what it was. And yes he was sorta being inducted but it was clearly over by the time that happened really.
Kenzie has no backstory package, not even 1 single outside of the game photo (shes the ONLY player left (in thef10 even) not to and this is despite having had chances already to put it in too) - the emotional blue eye scene, her opening confessional , any time she mentioned her career, her ben panic attack scene. - Charlie and Q had photos. Liz maria and Ben all had full on backstorys. -
When compared to other woman winners - shes insanely overexposed in the edit.
When u look at her game- she actually hasnt gotten THAT much better of a resume or game than Ben or Liz. Its worse than Q Charlie and Maria on paper (outside of pure social) And shes missed the chance for a big move and instead lost numbers in 3 consecutive tribals. Kenzie herself has stated that you need to make a big move - which she keeps failing to do alike jake owen. She wanted Q but begrudgingly accepted Hunter vote, she wanted Q but got blindsided and it was Tiff, she wanted Maria-> then Q but begrudgingly voted Venus. All 3 were numbers that were loyal to her, and she didnt really want out but got them out, having no agency 3 straight votes. And wasnt in the 6 which was the main storyline for the early merge votes.
She has a eerily similar to Jake Owen and Carolyn edit when u really think about it - who all got underdog themes.
also Kenzie is plain wrong a lot… i just rewatched ep 3 and found yet another time shes straight up wrong.. when Bhanu gets back to camp after the journey, he lies to Yanu and says “i chose the white rock” - this is then immediately followed by a confessional of Kenzie falling for his lie saying “of course in typical yanu fashion he gets nothing (correct ik) which works for us because we didnt want him to have anything, he drew the white rock (false, kenzie has fallen for the lie) he doesnt have anything, great for the plan but it is also just hilarious that once again yanu loses another thing (okay sorta correct) and gives something else to the other tribes (false and wrong again). This is yet another really small thing but damn these sorts of wrong things are really adding up. Why gove kenzie that confessional? Contrast that with Tiff basically saying the more on point thing of “the real tea is what did he give up, bc i know damn sure he was over there spilling the tea” and she doesnt have anything falling for his Lie, And then Q doesn't comment on it in confessional, but has a scene where he questions Bhanu if he got the white rock and Bhanu reveals no he didnt and indeed he lost his vote. It again put right after we show bhanu not getting the white rock and the other tribes not getting anything - so even though logically kenzie is just narrating from what she knows, and technically yanu person did lose out, shes still completely wrong about what happened and as a viewer ur inclined to think “thats not what happened” as shes talking. Just this actually has happened quite a lot.
I sound like a Kenzie hater. but end of the day i can still see all of Kenzies upside and Charlies downside and marias danger. I know that a lot of these flaws can be possibly justified or overlooked with all the good stuff - but they still are possible red flags and theres quite a few of them still.. so i think its still worth noting and keeping in mind. Since everyone is constantly pointing out the smaller red flags for a Charlie and a Maria. Just food for thought. Bc if anyone thinks kenzie could be set up for a FTC loss they get roasted on here. I personally do lean towards her winning ftc but the set up is there for both.
I think she takes out Q at least bc the setup for both her (threat mermaid dragon etc) and Charlie (i need to get Q out, Q needs to go asap) has been made. Plus Maria slipped in Q for one more vote, Ben and Liz both have setup for wanting Q gone. Its gotta happen soon! But its entirely possible thats what the mermaid dragon and shes a dangerous threat story arc was leading to.. her being part of tiffany and Q going (her idea the tiff blindside, her making moves on Q). Rather than her necessarily winning.
Ill also point out for those who believe that Charlie wasnt as relevent early on and that he has a poor social game - i just rewatched ep 1-5, skipping thru the nami tribe scenes and challenges and unimportant confessionals (BHANU drama) and BOY do Charlie and Kenzie both get sooo much attention. We hear from both so much. Its kinda clear that kenzie is the main Yanu (sorry Q) and Charlie is the main siga (sorry maria and Ben). But charlie gets so many social related scenes which highlight his social bonds and has the edit backing it up with positive SPV about him from other players. Jeff always talks to charlie and the camera pans are always panning to both Charlie and Kenzie throughout the premerge. Just a little fun thing i noticed.

Hedge fund strategies will always do better. How will you beat them? Why don’t you just become a hedge fund?

Hedge fund strategies will always do better on a risk-adjusted basis. We have no intention of beating them. We provide our users with high-returns that they understand. Our users don’t care about risk-adjusted returns, and that’s why they don’t care about high-return mutual funds, they want high returns they understand.

What if this crypto insider sees what you are doing and wants to do a Pump-And-Dump?

Pump and dumps are possible when you have market power. Tokens that can be manipulated through pump-and-dump schemes, such as tokens with a low market cap or concentrated ownership, are systematically excluded from tokens our users can hold.
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Crypto insiders move the market. You will always be buying at a worse price, will you not?

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I am absolutely humiliated to ask this but I need help.
I have an LP foil/epee X-change mask with ice contour padding. I love this mask. I do sweat quite a lot and in the year or so I’ve had it I do wash the padding according to insctructions. The first time putting the padding back in it took me AGES to get it to fit, and then some time at a practice session to do adjustments to get it feeling right.
One thing was I decided to photo the padding before I put it in the wash, so I had reference before putting it back in. Over time I got much better and could do it and do the adjustments in under 5 mins max.
I was lazy recently and didn’t wash it for a few months (longer than usual) as the smell was bothering me a little so I washed it… and now I can’t seem to recall how the hell it fits back in. I can’t seem to get the chin part to attach properly to the sides, and can’t remember which padding part when on top of the other. I had to use a club mask on Thursday last week because I honestly was just having a brain fart and I don’t know what’s wrong here.
Can anybody be so generous as to give a bit of advice or a few photos of how this padding looks in their own mask (especially the connection at the temples between both parts of the padding) so I can get this thing done before next practice. I beg of you. It’s driving me up the wall.

All of you unconsciously prune information. Forget it. Feed off it at your own convenience. I remember everything. Everything. Constantly. The pain of losing my comrades. The sadness. All of the information that composes those moments…never leaves my brain for a second.

Nico Vorgeil is the head of Union's science division. An atheist turned anti-theist, he was recruited for his one of a kind skill in pioneering the understanding of the universe. The only thing that could push him even further was his own union with a woman that had intellect to match his own. However, when she died in childbirth, his Negation manifested, dooming him to suffer endlessly. He died in regret, having betrayed everything he stood for in exchange for a few fleeting moment with his late wife.
But now, Fuuko Izumo's on a quest to give everyone a happy ending. And Nico's the one she wishes that for the most…

Key

Scaling

• Andy & Victor / Undead
• Chikara Shigeno / Unmove
• Creed Deckard / Undecrease
• Fuuko Izumo / Unluck
• Gina Chamber / Unchange
• God / UMAs
• Ichico Nemuri / Unsleep
• Isshin XIII, Haruka Yamaoka / Unbreakable
• Juiz d'Arc / Unjustice
• Mui
• Phil Hawkins / Unfeel
• Shen Xian / Untruth
• The Superior Master Rules
• Tatiana / Untouchable
• Tella / Untell
• Top Bull Sparx / Unstoppable
• Void Volks / Unavoidable

Notes

• Feats are listed in order of appearance. Hover over a link to see the chapter(s) of origin.
• Feats from chapters up to 132 are from the 100th Loop.
• Feats from 133 on are from the 101st Loop, with this RT leaving off at 206.
• Character profile.
• Huge thanks to NegativeGamer and doctorgecko for creating threads that contributed to this one.

Strength

• Beat Mui and Shen; Shen was pounded into a wall and you can see a barbell bent in the background
• Tears the Union emblem out of his skin
• Strikes Andy five times using Shen's technique
• Breaks UMA Ghost's hold on him after losing his identity
• Rips Fuuko's caged soul out of his chest

Durability

• Electrocuted
• Fuuko's One-Inch Punch left him nauseous for days

Speed

• Dodges Victor's finger bullet

Skill

• Fought Tella offpanel
• Creates a dust explosion using iron residue blown around by wind and struck by lightning while taking on Language
• Harnessed his soul
• Speaks to Fuuko across the globe telepathically after harnessing his soul
• Learned Feng's method of harnessing chi (soul energy)
• Transmits design schematics into Ichico's head through a soul cable
• Forms the Super Dreadnought Union Lethal Weapon Superior Buster Soul Version in Lan's shiritori game with Ichico's help

Inventions

General Union Things
Note: Ichico matches his number of inventions, much higher than the other lab members, so it's possible some of these belong to her.
Memory-Wiping

• Memory-wipes the people of NYC who saw a Spoil Junior
• Erases all memories of Chikara in the public consciousness
• Reprograms the public consciousness to accept Fuuko as Void's title defense challenger
• Made Chikara's school forget about the ten Union members that infiltrated it for a year

Network
Reach

• Comms network
• Satellite
• Presumably fast delivery, as Gina is able to acquire her beret after calling in for it
• Teleports Spoil's core out of Victor's hand
• Tracked a mob auction that Andy was unable to find
• The Union jet can travel from Japan to Canada in five hours
• Tracks Under's spatial gate method
• Has so much money
• 100,000+ employees

Other

• Goons with handcuffs and spheres meant to catch Undead
• Runs an orphanage
• UMA food cubes are hypercondensed nutrients
• UMA containment cells are indestructible
• Almost certainly created the little drop-pod things since they zoom out of his lab later
• Union communicators

Single-Person Gadgets
Loop 100

• Anti-aging tech
• The neckties of Union suits grants the wearer access to a number of public services and organizations and it also functions as a universal translator which even works with writing
• The insignias on Union suits can play recordings and function as comms with other insignia wearers
• Fake IDs
• Created the Union's anti-cherry blossom cloaks to resist Spring's transmutation
• Heating pads
• An electric chair
  • It reconfigures her brain to make her eyebags appear above her eyes and thus they function as natural eyeshadow

Loop 101

• Adrenaline epi-pen
• Thermal vision
• Spacesuits with verniers
• Anti-shake camera holders
• Created a dress for Latla that would morph into a bridal dress
• Insulated spacesuits for sunwalking capabilities
  • They also have bone conduction, so Fuuko can talk to Andy by jabbing her thumb into a hole in his skull

Weapons

• Fighter jets
  • With remote self-destruct
• Electrical cables, cooling agent, and the Unbreakable pile cannon all are weapons that Union HQ utilizes against Burn
• Developed the Astral Dolls with Ichico
• Developed the Super Dreadnought Union Lethal Weapon Superior Buster as the Union's ultimate weapon with Mico

Specific - Others'

• Void's power armor
• An alloy that, smithed using Isshin's Unbreakable, can expand along with Shen's Nyoi-Kinko staff
• Designed a helmet to save Zack from a respiratory disease
• Created Tatiana's ball mech
• Gave Billy spurs for his echolocation-level senses to work
• Built Chikara's goggles
• Probably made Juiz a prosthetic arm
• The UN-ST Tachyorizer, which basically gives Top everything he needs to reach maximum speed
• Performs a field blood transfusion between Andy and Fuuko
• Souped up Andy's bike
• Loop 100 Nico was the best of any Loops Fuuko saw through artefacts
• Nico-dedicated restraints (while he didn't invent them himself, another member of the lab did and he's the smartest of them
• Repelling bullets for Creed's minigun to use in space

Specific - Own
Astral Dolls

• Using Psycho Pods as power sources, these are copies of members of the Union that even possess pseudo-Negations
• Astral Void punches Andy's head off
  • Punches Andy into the ground
  • Punches harder after the UMA Ghost fusion
• Astral Gina slams Andy's body to the ground
• Created Astral Chikara and Astral Juiz as well
• They get stronger after Nico fuses with Ghost as well as more durable, but only the two that are dead, Gina and Void
• Andy's finger bullets bounce off amped Void
• Gina gums up Andy's limbs while electrocuting him

Psycho-Pods
General

• He can use them to fly
• These are controlled via brainwaves
• Nico can control eleven at max, with Chikara barely able to control one
• When he fuses with Ghost, his Psycho Pods become ghostly
• They store memories

Durability/Shields

• Reflects Phil's laser into a Victor clone
• Traps Gina inside a cube as her Negation activates, preventing her from killing 40,000 via asphyxiation
• Forms a stretcher to carry Fuuko on
• Makes a shield to deflect Creed's grenade
• Traps some of UMA Color's paint
• Encases Sick's Juniors
• Forms a shield around Fuuko's ER
• Only Isshin has ever been able to break this material, until fighting Lan in a game of shiritori

Lasers

• Defends Nico from Andy's finger bullet
• Bisects Victor and cauterizes the wound to slow his regen
• Lasers Andy into giblets using ten, slicing through metal as well
• Lasers holes in the lab floor to reduce the strength of the eruption about to explode, as well as cools down the lava with a refrigerating agent
• Forms a 5x5 grid to dice Language's Sun and Luna

Other

• Treats Top and Isshin's wounds
• Conks Tella
• Hacks into the Union's network, killing its captive UMAs and lowering their defenses
  • Shuts gates to direct Andy down a certain path
  • Gasses his lab members
• Treated Shen's wounds

Negation: Unforgettable

Type: Self-Targeting Compulsory Activation
Tragedy: Ichico Nemuri's death in childbirth is the only memory he has of his wife
Nico's Negation prevents him from forgetting anything his mind has processed since acquiring the Negation. This in turn crushes out the memories he had from before the Negation awakened.

• After all the world's languages were unified into English and Mui lost the ability to speak Chinese, she starts teaching herself how to speak it using only a book written by Nico
• Memory wipes fail on him
• Beat UMA Language solo
• Withstands Apocalypse's memory bombing, meaning he is stronger in Loop 101 than Loop 100, and Loop 100 Nico was already better than any previous Nico.
• Only Unforgettable is capable of perfectly reviving someone from the dead in shiritori due to its absolute crystalline memory of them
• Likely knows Spanish and Lithuanian

Other

• Determines which of the quests the Union should go after
• Defeated UMA Language himself and UMA Past with the help of other Negators
• Fused with UMA Ghost

I couldn't forget even if you told me to. Those words. Those memories. I've ingrained them into my soul!!

I (22F) and my boyfriend (22M) have been together for almost 2 years this July. The relationship has been great, not very many problems, however, recently I have found myself experiencing the “ick” for my boyfriend because of what I’m about to explain.
We were talking about the “man vs. bear” argument a few weeks ago, I was explaining to him the woman’s point of view and why most women would choose the bear over the man. I wasn’t trying to convince him that choosing the bear was the correct answer, I just wanted him to understand the reasoning that a lot of women have for choosing the bear. I pulled up the statistics for sexual assault in the US specifically. He said that he “didn’t agree with those statistics,” so he went looking for his own, and when he found numbers that he didn’t believe were outrageous, he used those and beloved those statistics. (Side note: my statistics were off of websites such as CDC.org, nsvrc.org, etc. My boyfriend obtained his from some random news article written in 2012.)
I’ll put a list below of the outrageous things that he’s said about this to make this easier and more structured:

• Any woman who chooses the bear is dumb as fuck and deserves to be mauled by the bear
  
• Women who choose the bear aren’t smart enough to think for themselves and form their own opinions
  
• Women who choose the bear just pick the bear because other women on social media told them to
  

These are just a few of things he has said, but I found these to be the most outrageous.
I also want to clarify, I have explained to him multiple times over that this argument isn’t saying “all men are bad,” and that the only men who should be offended by the argument are the ones with truly bad intentions, or the ones that haven’t looked into the argument at all.
Fast forward to today, he brought up the argument again briefly with his friends, making fun of it essentially, and I confronted him about it because I thought we had come to a compromise about the entire thing and he understood my point of view. Instead, he just tells me that he didn’t actually remember our conversation about it and is now absolutely bewildered as to why I’m livid with him.
This is just one small instance of many many more things that have happened that I simply just can’t put into a post.
This could be classified as more of a rant, but I NEEDED to get this out somewhere. And I also just have no idea on how to confront him about it, what to do, etc.
TL;DR: My boyfriend is expressing increasingly misogynistic views and doesn’t listen to me when I talk to him about it. Is this a dealbreaker for my relationship?

If I hadn’t drunk an entire gallon of tea back at the hotel, maybe none of this would’ve happened.
Well, maybe if we hadn’t gotten kicked out of the hotel, none of this would’ve happened.
It had been just the two of us in the small car, but with the animosity heavy on the air, it felt overcrowded. I don’t know what had been worse, the hour of arguing, the two hours of silence afterwards, or the burgeoning realization that maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.
I studied him out of the corner of my eye. We'd been together for several months, but the recent experience left me wondering if I had ever even met the real Brian – who he truly was on the inside.
It had been our very first trip together.
We'd saved up for one of those super fancy hotels and had been having a great time – until, of course, Brian decided to attempt a five-finger discount in the jewelry store in the lobby.
He'd told me when we first started dating that he'd had some run-ins with the law in the past – when he was young and that was the only way to put food on the table, and I'd understood.
But this wasn't the same. It wasn't for survival, it was just greed.
We’d both spent the rest of our vacation money and then some, paying for that $1,800 watch so no charges would be pressed.
They still kicked us out. I don’t blame them.
Asking him to stop at the next place we came across was the first thing I'd said to him in hours, and he nodded, solemnly.
My discomfort was escalating to the point where I was considering asking him to pull over on the side of the road – rain be damned – when we saw the dim sign flickering in the distance.
The small store was out of place on the quiet, tree lined mountain road. We’d been deep in a tunnel of trees and hadn’t seen so much of a hint of the lights in the distance – it seemed to just appear into view as we went around the bend. I didn't recall seeing it on the way to the hotel, so it was a pleasant surprise.
I felt a flood of relief wash over me.
It stuck out in the otherwise beautiful mountain landscape – windows so dirty that the light inside barely reached us through them – several letters on the sign lit up in such a way that the only word we could even see was a blood red '- MART' flickering.
Any relief I'd managed to feel was short-lived.
When we walked in, we both froze as we took in the interior.
I instantly wished we’d just stopped by the side of the road after all. I looked at Brian and could tell he felt it too – he was fiddling with his new watch and took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, and put them back on, as if that would make what he was seeing make more sense.
There were no other customers, no employees visible, it was just the two of us.
Ceiling tiles hung askew, and the floor was filthy – we had to step over a drain in the floor with grimy stains circling it, to walk in.
If it weren’t for the lights, gentle hum of the AC, and grinding sounds floating from down the long hallway at the back, I’d have thought the place was abandoned.
It was humid inside, and the smell coming from the old coolers that lined the back walls hit me as soon as we walked in. It reminded me of the summer my dad had decided to dabble in taxidermy in our basement.
The slight hint of rot that lingered on the damp air indicated poorly done taxidermy, at that.
As I darted towards the back towards the restroom sign, a placard dangling off it caught my eye, informed me the restroom was for paying customers only.
I quickly perused the shelves for something to buy. The aisles were tall, nearly to the ceiling, and despite the store being somewhat small, I felt the panicked sense of being cornered and trapped in an endless maze – at risk of becoming lost in there forever. The food on the shelves resembled nothing like the usual chips and candy these types of stores carried – there were rows upon rows of soft looking mystery items in plastic wrap, some of them leaked a red-brown residue down the shelves – none of it looked remotely appealing.
I passed by a section with a stained placard that said ‘handcrafted from local artists’ that was filled with eclectic items, none of which seemed to go together.
There were torn shirts with random logos – nothing related to the town or area we were in, stained with mud, grass, and god knows what else. Dried ropy things formed small and delicate sculptures of animals unlike any I’d seen before. I reached for a bracelet with intricately carved white beads but nearly dropped it when I realized the band was made up of woven human hair. It left a residue on my hand, and I noticed then that the same sour-rot smell was coming from the collection of items, too.
I opted for a flat and lukewarm Dr. Pepper instead, and placed two $2 dollar coins on the glass counter in front of the hand scrawled ‘shoplifters will be processed’ sign near the register.
I figured I misread it, after all it, looked like it had been written by a hand unused to holding a pen.
Brian had grabbed an armful of those unnerving plastic-wrapped packages but hovered at the counter a bit too long. I could hear the scrape of him retrieving the coins on the glass, the sound of him dropping them into his pocket.
He gave me a pointed stare as he did so.
I sighed, so tired of arguing that I just walked away from him and down the hallway. I figured I’d pay (again) after he got back in the car.
No sooner had I closed the door to the women’s room behind me, than I could hear him talking to someone.
His voice rose until he was nearly yelling. Mortified and trying to delay being involved in another incident that day, I splashed water on my face while trying to drown out what appeared to be a one-sided argument.
I kept trying to wash the grimy feeling that had lingered on my hands after picking up the bracelet, but no matter how I scrubbed, I couldn’t get it off – it kept getting worse.
I felt nauseous when I realized the greasy residue was coming from the pale-yellow bar of soap. I decided I’d scrub my hands raw at our next stop, and stepped out into the hall and back to the store.
Brian wasn’t there.
I called out for him, but all I heard in answer was that same vague whirring and drilling sound coming from further down the long hallway.
I double-backed to the car, but found it empty.
I circled the store, my frustration turning to panic as I shouted his name and still got no response.
I called his phone, it just rang, and rang before going to voicemail.
The car was locked and he had the keys, I couldn’t help but feel nervous, standing out there in the rain. We were still in the middle of the deep woods and with clouds obscuring the light of the moon and stars, the area was blanketed in darkness. I reluctantly headed back inside.
Somehow, the smell had managed to become even worse – I gagged when the wet, disgusting air hit my nose again. It was so strong I could nearly taste it, putrid on my tongue.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was always someone just behind me as I walked quickly through the tall aisles, but whenever I looked over my shoulder, there was never anything there.
I called his phone, wondering how I’d managed to lose him in such a small store when I finally heard it ringing – it was echoing from down that long hallway.
As I headed towards it, I heard someone moving on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling aisle, placing something onto the shelf with a sickening wet thud, before weaving lithely through the aisles behind me.
“Brian?” I called out softly, trying to convince myself that everything was fine – trying to disguise my fear.
I knew it wasn’t him – I don’t know how, but I knew it. Have you ever had the feeling that if you look closely enough at something, if you truly see it, you’ll never be able to close your eyes again without it haunting you? That feeling of being in close proximity to something that your fragile mind was never meant to know existed?
I forced myself to turn around anyways.
Once again, whoever or whatever had been there was gone by the time I rounded the aisle, but I heard a gentle clinking sound, and saw a trail of red-pink droplets.
I followed it back to that section – handcrafted from local artists, there was something new hanging from a hook near the shelves – wet, glistening strips dangled from along what looked to be a curved bone with bits of gristle still attached. From one of them hung an expensive men’s wristwatch, another was tied around a shattered, thick glasses lens. Yet another sagged under the weight of car keys. They gently swayed with the motion of having been recently placed. Fluid continued to drip from the still wet viscera and mingled with the mud on my shoes.
Shoplifters will be processed
I didn’t need to see the items down the other aisles to figure out what I was looking at, what must have happened.
I could already tell that we’d never have another argument, ever again.
I heard a door open and close in the back, soft footsteps approaching from down that hallway.
I realized that in my distraction, I'd forgotten to put money back on the counter.
I choked up, but knew there was nothing I could do for him. So, I tossed the first bills I found in my purse onto the floor, frantically untangled the car keys, and in shock, I drove myself the remaining four-hour drive home.
Every so often, along the quiet country roads – those I could've sworn were empty on the drive up – I’d see that grimy building, the sign, '-MART' flashing in the distance.
I didn’t stop once.
I've been home for a week now.
A few nights ago, something triggered a motion alert on my video doorbell, but there was no one there when I checked the footage.
The next morning, I found a cardboard box on my porch – with no stamp or return address.
In it was a torn t-shirt, and several of those now-familiar wrapped packages, putrid fluid leaking out of them through the bottom of the soggy cardboard.
I've received a similar box every night, since.
I don't know if it's meant as a threat, or if due to some sort of twisted interpretation – I’m now a 'paying customer’ – he's slowly being returned to me.
Either way, it turns out that I've gotten to see who Brian was on the inside, after all.
JFR

Hello all!
A little back story. My sister is married to a guy in the Air Force and they are stationed in a completely different state than the rest of our family, so far away.
My sister’s husband has been abusive, emotionally and I suspect physically…but all I can speak for is emotionally based off him openly cheating on her while deployed while she was back home pregnant with his kid. Sending my sister photos of him in bed with another woman and all that crap. We flew my sister and the kids to my house to stay during his deployment. She was set on getting a divorce but then he came back home and promised to change. She reported this to his supervisors and he got in a bit of trouble.
Fast forward 2 years. We got a FaceTime call last week and she put her finger to her mouth so that I wouldn’t talk. I listened and heard him say how he wish she was dead and how he doesn’t love her, just really going off saying horrible things while cleaning his guns.
This past weekend we get a text from her husband that she’s in the hospital with failing liver and kidneys. She can’t walk and has little to no sodium. I asked him how she got there and he said he picked her up, put her in his truck and drove her there. Well I decided to fly in a not tell him I’m showing up. I arrive and he’s not at the hospital. I talk to the dr and was told basically that my niece drew a picture at school of my sister laying in bed with the words ‘I want to die’ coming out of my sister’s mouth. CPS was called and my sister’s husband was basically forced to call an ambulance.
I’m now suspecting that he might have been waiting on my sister to die. I’m not sure what legal ground I have to stand on. I’m not sure what I should do/can do legally. I would like to know if he has, within the past year, taken out or increased a life insurance policy on my sister. This needs investigation and not sure how to go about it. My sister did sign over medical rights to me.