This story is based on ALLEGEDLY true events. It is inspired by a line in G-Eazy’s “Maximum”, where he claims her heard supermodel Adriana Lima fart and it was apparently so stinky he had to cover his nose and walk away. The events I describe in the story will be my own interpretation of what could’ve happened during this strange encounter between two celebs
It had been a long recording night in the studio for award winning rapper G-Eazy. The “You Don’t Own Me” musician spent much of his day working on the follow up album to his debut release which catapulted him to stardom. After sleeping overnight at Westlake Recording Studios in WeHo, G-Eazy gets a call from his agent to remind him that he’s scheduled to make a talk show appearance for NBC’s pop culture news staple “Extra”. Totally forgetting about this engagement, a restless G-Eazy pulls himself up from the couch and stumbles out the door as he heads out to the black Escalade awaiting to take him home. Once G-Eazy arrives back to his Los Angeles residence, he showers, changes clothes and takes a few calls from his team so they can go over what will be talked about during his Extra Interview
Later, G-Eazy hops back in the black Escalade which takes him to NBC studios where Extra is currently taping its latest episode. G-Eazy is met at the studio by his agent along with the rest of his team. They are all greeted by the show’s producer who takes them to the main dressing room. It is there where G-Eazy receives his hair and makeup and also gets to watch his crush Adriana Lima sit down with Extra for her own exclusive interview. G-Eazy has always been fond of the Brazilian supermodel and had no idea she was going to be a guest on the show. Not only does G-Eazy find Adriana incredibly attractive, he is aware that she is knewly single thus he immediately comes up with a plan to “shoot his shot”. The greaser-looking rapper figured rather than wait until call time to go out on set and perhaps run into Adriana after his interview, it was perhaps a better idea to leave his dressing room ahead of time and try to catch the Victoria Secret beauty on her way out. For the time being, he sat in his chair, studying Adriana’s body language, keeping his eyes glued to the movement of her mouth as she uttered soft spoken words under her thick, gorgeous accent. He stared her up and down and up and down, analyzing her every move, taking in her presence through the screen. The longer he watched, the more apparent it became, he HAD to have this woman
As the day longs, G-Eazy becomes a bit unsure of his master plan. Hair and makeup has been taking much longer than he had anticipated and Adriana’s interview was beginning to wrap up. He begins eyeing around the room, attempting to come up with a quick getaway as he fidgets in his seat. Finally, the words spill out and he tells the styling people that he has to go to the bathroom. Without even waiting for a response, G-Eazy jumps out of his chair and fast walks out of the door. Completely unsure of where Adriana would even be coming from once her interview had concluded, he runs around the lot in hopes of running into a 5’11, brown skinned model in long, white silk dress good enough to be worn at an overseas film festival. After aimlessly wandering around the lot, G-Eazy finds himself approaching the entrance to the soundstage where the interviews are conducted. He spots two of the hosts sitting as they get their makeup retouched. He then looks to his left…and there she is. Adriana is standing with a few other important looking folks, smiling and giggling in what seems to be a conversation being had between everyone. G-Eazy walks back toward the hall, only to stop halfway, he decides to stay there and “look busy” as he waits for Adriana to approach the walkway.
Sure enough, the Brazilian stunner begins making her way toward the entrance and she starts walking up the hall. She is joined by two other people, perhaps her agent and assistant. G-East looks up from his phone and commences his long awaited plan. He walks up and blocks Adriana from brushing past him. It’s then that he politely asks for a pic with the model and he is genuinely surprised when she recognizes the “No Limit” rapper and tells him how big of a fan she is. The pair go off to the side and take a few pics. Now for the good part. G-Eazy turns on the and sends a few flirtatious comments Adriana’s way to which she is obviously flattered and even blushes quite noticeably. As G-Eazy begins to put another move on the supermodel, he hears an odd sound. FFFFFRRRRR He initially suspects he just received a text as he whips out his phone yet there’s no new notifications that pop up on his screen. He looks around as he continues talking but his sentence is cut off when he gets a whiff of the foulest odor. G-Easy stops and looks up at Adriana who’s standing a mere two-three feet away from him. She looks off to the side as she plays with her hair. She says something but between her accent and the nasty stench floating in the air, G-Eazy has no comprehension of what she even uttered. The space between the two stars grows pungent, it’s as if a giant piece of dog turd fell from the sky and landed right between their feet. At that moment, all G-Eazy can say is that it was nice meeting the stunning Amazon and he awkwardly walks away, hearing Adriana’s faint “it was nice to meet you as well” only as he turns his back and covers his nose with his shirt. Somehow the stench is potent enough to start following him so he begins speed walking back to his dressing room

Hello people,
I am currently playing a second time through the campaign on hard difficulty and since for my first go I got very frustrated from times to times and shared some (I think Helms Deep and Minas Tirith) in this sub and got questions I couldn't really answer since it was too long ago, I thought I recollect my impressions from my second playthrough as some things have changed (at least it feels like). In general: It got easier.
Moria: Very straight forward. Seperated hobbits and actual heroes into 2 groups and started clearing out goblins and skipping level ups. Once an actual hero got to lvl 2 I picked up a level-up getting them to lvl 3. Fittingly there are 5 hidden level ups and 5 actual heroes. So by the end of the level everyone who matters was lvl 3. Yes I hate the hobbits go sue me.
Lorien: Cloak the hobbits, proceed with heroes. Kill the Lumber mill in the bottom left corner, bring the hobbits. Enter Lorien and build 2 Archery Ranges. The hobbits are send to collect the treasure while everyone else is gathering at the north-western bridge. The hobbits naturally arrive at the norther bridge where they will cross and kill the lumber mill. Constantly produce elven archers and keep an eye on gimli, aragorn and boromir as they tend to get themselves isolated at the front without archer support. just get them back and heal if nessesary. between waves the hobbits go and kill the third lumber mill in the north and then run from chasing lumber jacks and orcs. Either kite them to your archers (go back around, don't try to get past a wave) or just enaugh so you can cloak them. once cloaked/save cloak them and forget about them. Southern bridge will be attacked next, so reposition to the south, after which reposition to the north. Freewin.
Rohan:
Your priorities should be: +Command, +Special, +Resources. Use the early missions, which are very easy, to max out on Rohirrim and get all upgrades asap. You should be able to train new units after every mission (as you get +command) which lets you recruit rohirrim archers and sell them at the main building to level your stables to get shields. At around Fangorn the missions will get more tricky as the enemy will have large numbers of spears with improved weapons. Don't charge them if possible. Kite them to a base with towers or just outrun them. You are usually not in a hurry. You are in a hurry tho in 2 missions where "Isengard will arrive in X minutes" - you don't want that. The army that arrives is strong and has wargs and spears which will decimate your Rohirrim. You want your Rohirrim to level from mission to mission as lvl 2 Rohirrim will not be sufficient.
Helms Deep:
There is no use in defending the lower Wall. I sell everything, archers and peasants in the main building and build Elves exclusively (unlucked once the elves arrive). Station them on the third ring at the very top. Leave all gates open, don't close them. Gather as much resources as possible while upgrading your elves with standards and fire arrows. Ignore improved weapons. Use the Rohirrim and Theoden and Eowyn to safe the peasents, let them gather the treasure and sell them. Defend the right gate on the 3rd wall with gimli, aragorn and boromir. Keep them close so they always have archer support.
The enemy will attack soon and flood the first wall (the one you're supposed to protect) but some of them will be diverted to the open gate. Your elves will kill a constant but slow stream of enemies as they trickle through. Close the lower gate from time to time to waste the enemies time as they will walk towards the ladders to climb them. Just open the gate again when rams arrive. The rams will walk through the opened gate and kill the farmsteads on the lower leve. Your archers will take care of them.
At some point ladders will gather up infront of the game unable to pass through. At that point keep the gate open at all times as ballistas will appear. They wont be able to get past the ladders and get stuck. Like this your losses are kept to a minum. From here on out it's basically just holding out. Once Eomer is ready to be called wait. Another wave will trigger shortly after. Once that has passed/reached your first gate call Eomer. Mount Gandalf and charge the first base with Eomers "For the King" ability. your losses will be minimal. After that turn around and charge whatever is left inside the keep and reunite with Theoden. Heal up on a well, maybe wait out another wave and then ride out. Eomers and Theodens abilities make your riders very tanky so you can charge the second base. After that's done retreat into the keep. No more waves will be spawned. Use your heroes to clear up the map like this you can level them up some more.
Isengard:
Became irrelevant, total cake walk. Before fire arrows where a real issue as they just DELETED ents so you had to cheese the Mission. But now, you are so strong no cheese needed. Defend the first attack, clear the goblins and the troll cave, build up ents. Walk around the base and bombard the urukhai pits and any fire-archer troops you can find while 2-3 ents defend while standing in the puddle outside the gate. Then just go in and kill everything. manouver burning ents into puddles and use heal at your own disgretion. Keep Treebeard alive and mount the Hobbits or cloak them.
Ithilien: Build only rangers and equip them with fire arrows. Try to keep everyone alive, you don't want to lose entire battalions. In the south there are a few rangers and a catapult. You can clear a big deal of the enemy camp on the middle plateau with that catapult. Aswell as the Oliphaunt in the top right corner. It will try to attack your catapult but the invisible wall makes it impossible. You can reach the Oliphaunt with your catapult from a cliff spot on the right side of the walkable map. Just area bombard where the oliphaunt stands it will return after charging you after each hit. Once that is done and the middle plateau is cleared position in front of the ramp and use the Terrain ability (that green circle where your units get boni) as close to the top right base as possible. This will trigger the orcs and trolls to attack you. Then proceed to bombard the bottom right base with your catapult and take it down with your rangers. Just take them to the topright base you cleared already and raze it to the ground. this should work ideally before mordor arrives so you can save most of your rangers.
After that you can pick missions again, and again: Command->Special->Resource.
Be careful in Dunharg, there are a lot of spears on that map and it is rather small. Striking fast is the key to victory although I lost some riders.
Osgiliath:
Then the defence of Osgiliath. This mission got a lot easier but is still tricky.
Right at the start move 2 catapults south aswell as the tower guard. Retreat with your rangers so they don't die to the attacking catapult (your otwer guard in the south will most likely be dead already). Build up the base in the south and kill the catapult with towerguard and your own catapults. Focus on Smithies only, build a well in the southern base. Man the towers with rangers and keep towerguard in defensive formation as a meatshield. Don't advance over the bridges. Maybe I got lucky but the Ai ignored the southern bridge from there on and only send waves down the middle and north. The north can easily be defended with 3 Ranger battalions and 1 towerguard.
From there on build your army up: A few tower guard are enaugh (I guess 6-8 batallions) rest Rangers. Get all upgrades from all buildings. Once your army is maxed call faramir, not earlier. You'll need the additional firepower. I used that time to upgrade the ithilien rangers that haven't been upgraded yet and leveled Faramir on the middle bridge to 5 for the +50% armor leadership bonus. I attacked the catapults one by one luring them into death while I also started building all towers in the southern base. Then I gathered everything except for 2 Ranger battalions and 1 Towerguard which stayed north and crossed the river. This will trigger nazgul to attack. Kill them asap. Establish a footholt on the other side and start taking down the base right across the river. Mount Faramir so he can dispatch any catapults quickly. Once that base is fully destroyed a large and very powerful (lvl 4+ Trolls, Oliphaunts and Orcs) will spawn. This is true for every base the enemy has. Therefor I gather all of my troops around the center of the base, once it's cleared I build a base of my own. the entrance will be to the southwest where I will build Towers at the entrance and on each spot while building a statue and a well in the back. The towers in the front will be cleared almost instantly, just rebuild them that gives your rangers till to kill anything that moves. Expect some heavy losses. Rebuild your army and kill everything but one small tower in the bottom right base. then go topside and do the same for the north base. Kill the manned towers with your catapults. Then kill both bases simultaneously and the mordor army will not spawn for base 2 and 3.
Kankra's Lair: Just walk around with Sam and kill all spiders. Don't free any soldiers. In the top left there is a troll which is too strong for Sam. So you let him throw rocks at it, until he is one hit away from death. use heal and wait until his health drops below half (after his health turns yellow one more hit) then activate the light. Once the troll flees just cloak. Wait for Sam to heal up and heal come off cooldown. Repeat this once and on your third fight with the troll sam should win. Proceed to clear everything with sam until you can only move south-east. Go and free all soldiers. Proceed with sam, kill spiders and free soldiers with soldiers. In the south there is a large arena. Gather all soldiers and tank Kankra with Sam. You will need to heal here so Sam doesn't die. Kankra runs and small spiders swarm. Your soldiers will take care of them. Kankra returns and who she focuses is random afaik so try to kite soldiers she targets away so your losses are not too big. After kankra is defeated clear the rest of the caves, gather treasure and free soldiers and gather at the exit. There is a small base in the bottom right corner guarded by some orcs. Kill them. Build the base and build 3 Smithies and a Farmstead where the Lumber Mill stood. Wait until your smithies reach Lvl 2 then research all upgrades. After the upgrades went through demolish 2 Smithies. Build an archery range and a barracks. Recruit 3 swordsmen battalions from the baracks so it reaches lvl 2. Take them and the rescued soldiers and let them die at the enemy base. They're all worthless. Recruit 12 batallions of Tower guard and 12 batallions of Archers. Fully upgrade them. Delete the archery range and build another Smithy. Throw your army against the enemy base. Once you breach the walls mordor will send a strong army so your first army is most likely lost. I managed to kill a lot by positioning towerguard wisely but in the end it wasn't enaugh. The army wont cross the bridge tho so you can just save up and build 12 Tower guard. Demolish the barracks and build an Archery Range. Build 12 Archer Battallions, full upgrade everyone. This force should be enaugh to overwhelm the defenders.
After that is Minas Tirith. That's where I am right now and I will update in the coming days once I complete it.
General: So far I feel like my troops survive more easily, the enemy armies aren't as punishing as before but I had to resort to cheesy strategies in Helms Deep and expect to cheese Minas Tirith aswell. This playthrough is therefor less challenging and usually I prefer more challenging games even or especiall when it frustrates me. But the changes just made me cheese less and restart less because I accidentally wiped 8 batallions of Rohirrim on a single urukhai spear batallion.
Mistakes I made so far: I didn't really level Gandalf in Fangorn or Helms Deep so I wont have access to lvl 10 in minas tirith. Wihch might be an issue.
I lost some Rohirrim in Dunharg which I couldn't really replenish.
(Maybe) bought the Rohirrim special power and am at 11 Special points with Anduril and Army of the dead missing.
Speaking of which: Special abilities, which I took and why:
Heal: Best ability in the game.
Bonus dmg for heroes: Worth the 1 point.
Gandalf the White: Grey is just useless.
Green-Land-Thingy: Handy in some missions.
Rohirrim: Helped me out at some later missions as fodder to throw into dangerous troops like spears and keep them occupied.
Anduril (not bought yet): Stronger Aragorn is always good, but it is a prereq for Army of the Dead.
Army of the Dead: Is good.
Eagles and Ents are not worth the points you can't use them in most missions. Elves were always underwhelming for me, they deal little to no damage, their range is kinda meh and their melee capabilities suck as in those missions you can use them the enemy has leveled and upgraded orcs/urukhai which delete the elves. Upgraded Peasents: The same reason I don't level Hobits. Sure you can take your time to do so but what's the point?

Writing this for folks whose home park is OG Disneyland and are considering or planning a trip to DLP. Whether that's you or you're looking for advice in the opposite direction, feel free to AMA!
I wrote up some aspects of my trip in this post, for reference. For context, I visit Anaheim a few times a year for 2-3 days each -- sometimes alone, sometimes with others -- and have been to Walt Disney World a handful of times (mostly for a single day while visiting my in-laws in the Orlando area).
Stow yer weapons: this is gonna be long. I'll talk atmosphere, attractions, food and drinks, and tips geared toward this audience. (I won't cover shows or character greetings, since they're not really my thing.)
Atmosphere:
Disneyland Paris is widely regarded as the most beautiful of the castle parks, and I agree. The attention to detail is stunning, from the horticulture to the rock work to the stained glass in the castle. The land transitions are smooth and beautifully executed, and the park generally feels more deliberately planned (probably since it wasn't built in a year and haphazardly swapping parts for the next seventy, like DLCA).
The park is bigger than Anaheim's, probably close to Magic Kingdom size, so add a minute or two to your commute time when crossing from one end to the other.
Some can't-miss experiences and details unique to DLP (skipping the rides since I'll cover those next, but including walk-throughs):
MAIN STREET

• The arcades on either side. Don't miss either of them! I enjoy the Discovery side with steampunk visions of cities in the future.
• If you can tour Walt's, do: the salons are themed by original lands and are charming. The home goods store named after Lily also has some nice turn-of-the-century fixtures and creative interior design.

FANTASYLAND

• The dragon. I mean, it's a dragon under the castle that snorts smoke!
• Shop interiors, especially Snow White and the Merlin shop. The beanstalk was closed when I was there, sadly.
• Cinderella's glass carriage near the Auberge.
• Sleeping Beauty's Castle. Do the walk-through. Eyvind Earle would be proud. The rectangular topiaries are a nice touch.
• The Alice in Wonderland labyrinth! Charming surprises, a true dead end, and a climb to a super neat park view in the center.

ADVENTURELAND

• The marketplace and Aladdin cave. Reminiscent of the Morocco pavilion at Epcot (sadly, I haven't been to Morocco). The restaurant has a very cool lived-in market look if you can take a peek inside. Even the windows have faux Maltese balconies/muxrabija and hanging wares.
• Adventure Isle. It's basically their version of Tom Sawyer's Island, so you can clamber through caves, look through Skull Rock, run around a pirate ship, and generally pretend you're eight. Genuinely photo-worthy.

FRONTIERLAND

• Peek into their version of the Golden Horseshoe. It may not be a replica of Calamity Jane's, like ours, but it's handsome and bigger.
• Phantom Manor's horticultural and exterior design. There's just more space for cool themed plants, and the queue design gives you time to admire them.

DISCOVERYLAND

• Steampunk everything! This is where we got our Astro-Orbiter and our short-lived, ill-fated redesign from the late 90s. It looks way better on them.
• The submarine walk through is really fun. Not sure how much it resembles the original walk-through from 50s Disneyland, but it's a low-key and visually rich treat, especially when it's sunny out.

Rides:
Some comparisons and contrasts. Didn't ride everything (e.g. carousel, teacups, Autopia), so I'll just share notes on the ones I did.
Big Thunder: Best version I've been on, period. It's on an island, so you plunge in and out of the darkness to get there, and the seats are actually divided so you're not body-slamming the person next to you every time you careen around a corner. Don't sleep on the detail and theming! Only bummer: no goat trick.
Pirates: Great queue: caves and little sneak peeks into scenes. Caribbean themed instead of bayou, restaurant included. Different structure and order of scenes, and frankly sort of confusing (e.g. Jack Sparrow is on the treasure pile among the skeleton tableaux for his little monologue). The sword fighting scene is unique to DLP (I think).
Fantasyland dark rides: Pinocchio is almost exactly the same as in CA. Snow White is more like the pre-COVID version, but even creepier; it's definitely the most divergent from the current CA version. Peter Pan is close to its CA version, but feels slightly larger?
Small World: More granular Europe, cute America section, generally quite different in layout. White-clad finale is a fair with a Ferris wheel and such.
Haunted Mansion/Phantom Manor: Identical ride track and Doom Buggies, but totally different storyline and different tableaux, particularly at the finale, which is a Western town instead of a graveyard. They don't put scrims in front of the frontier town zombies, which makes them creepier somehow. It's a unique take and a must-do.
Space Mountain: This one blows ours out of the water. Catapult launch, several inversions, much faster and darker. Be aware they don't have pouches for your stuff and will instruct you to put it on the floor. I stepped on the strap of my bag because I was certain I was gonna lose it.
Star Tours: Identical, though one time I got narration in English and the other time in French. May be randomized?
Railroad: No primeval world but they do have their own Grand Canyon. Circle tour is a must; you cover completely different ground and get a great pano of the whole park. My train was in compartments rather than long cars.
Indiana Jones: This is not the Jeep tour by any stretch; it's an outdoor roller coster that rattled my teeth out of my head. Think an extreme version of Goofy's Sky School with the unbanked turns. KEEP YOUR HEAD BACK. And even then, don't be surprised if you get off with sore ears and a buzzy headache that last a few minutes.
Food and Drinks:
I talked extensively about this in my other post, so I'll just note a couple of comparisons.

• Alcohol is more widely available in the Paris park, akin to DCA. Your best bet is wine or a kir (or a beer, if you prefer) unless you're at a place with a dedicated cocktail menu.
• The little stalls across from Small World serve things like ham and gruyère sandwiches and gauffres and sweets, with beer and wine available. Meh by Paris standards, but decent snacks that you wouldn't find in Anaheim.
• Unique themed dining. Captain Jack's has sub-par food, but if you're a fan of the Blue Bayou, it may be worth it just for the Caribbean nighttime theming. Boats floating by, and a more defined/secluded space than the sea of tables at BB. (Who goes to BB for the food anyway?) Agrabah restaurant has the most divergent theming and food from anything you can get in DLR.

General info/advice:
I have a lot of good news for Californians, because Paris is a cakewalk in comparison. I'm sure I hit a slower period, but it's so easy to go with the flow without playing nine-dimensional chess on your phone every three minutes.

• Stay at a hotel on campus! The great news is that the hotels, parks and shops are after security, so you won't have to leave the bubble for your whole trip. Say goodbye to waiting in line for bag check behind one billion strollers every morning. If you're staying in the DLH (covered in my other post), you basically roll out of bed and through the turnstiles.
• Early entry was EMPTY, and since it was 8:30 instead of 7-7:30, it felt downright luxurious. Hit those Fantasyland rides like they're going out of style. I hit Peter Pan twice before 8:40. That one does fill up later and skipping the line costs an absurd amount of money, so morning is your best bet. Not everything is open for extra magic hour, though, so do check your map.
• The park is significantly bigger and you're going to do a lot of walking. It's not as easy to jump from point to point in rapid succession as in our little jewel of a park. Plan accordingly.
• That said, take the time to really slow down and enjoy your surroundings. No need to travel halfway across the world just to bang out a bunch of rides. It's fun to check out the beautifully executed transitions (John Hench would be proud). There's even a list of horticultural treasures within the app.
• Express pass is way easier than Genie Plus. I don't recommend getting the full day; the one day I did it, I failed to break even on what I would have spent skipping the line for individual rides. Get it for the rides you want if the line looks too steep for you. They're generally valid either immediately or within 5 minutes.

I'm tired of typing, and you're doubtless tired of reading, but if you have questions about the Studios park, feel free to ask in the comments.

It's one of those things that nobody would believe if it wasn't recorded and unfortunately it wasn't. I was fighting a ladybug. Got it to about half health when if yeeted itself into the sky with the grass catapult glitch that can effect players. I have never seen it cause a bug to get launched. I had to stop playing to laugh from the belly. Has anybody else seen this? I think that particular Ladybug might be in next doors garden now. XD Also. I was fighting another Ladybug from a perch up on a weedy stem. Ladybug smashed down the weedy stem but I stayed perched on thin air. That was an easy kill with a crossbow. :)

The Short Version can be found here.

Part 1 can be found here.

Example 5 - There's more to a BBC YouTube title

Returning to this dastardly subreddit, for my next example, points 1, 2, 3, 4, and 6 are relevant. OP provided a screenshot of a BBC YouTube title, stating: "Israeli hit squad dressed as doctors kill Palestinians in hospital." Per point 2, by failing to immediately link to the video, or immediately mention what the video contains, folk could come away with the conclusion that the BBC never reports that these were militants. In other words, some might believe that the misreporting here extends past the video title, when it does not, and this could be avoided by providing salient details sooner rather than later. This submission was made during the temporary ban, and I thought it was interesting enough as a case study to come back to.

Example 6 - Oxfam's full position

For this submission/meme, points 1, 2, and 6 are relevant. I saw that we weren’t going to get good-faith engagement with the entirety of Oxfam’s position here on why they initially opposed airdrops, and I attempted to outline the full extent of their views so that it can be critiqued appropriately. This meme is not too dissimilar from some Twitter leftist fixating on one short clip of Destiny during one of his heated gamer moments; his actual positions aren’t being engaged with, and it’s intellectually dull. There’s more to Destiny’s positions than a twenty-second clip; there’s more to Oxfam’s position than the one tweet. The fact of the matter is that there’s a long series of tweets here, and while the tweet OP chose to highlight is risible, is dumb, and is insufferable, we are more than capable on this subreddit in being more nuanced and fair when it comes to our criticism.
As I highlight, there were some concerns here that were not entirely unreasonable. At the time of my comment, there weren’t yet any reports on injuries due to airdrops. These reports appeared in the following days and weeks, where Gazans were killed when a parachute in an airdrop failed to deploy, and some drowned in their attempts to retrieve parcels that landed in the sea. Retrospectively, I wouldn't say that aid should not have been airdropped merely because it would result in these deaths, but a fair assessment of Oxfam here at the time should have taken these concerns into account.
Oxfam’s associate director also endorses a Twitter thread where some prescriptions are given on how ought this aid delivery be facilitated. He recommends that the Gaza port be reopened, and to open more crossings. The Biden administration recognized that airdrops would not sufficiently alleviate the problem of being unable to get sufficient quantities of aid distributed, and while the port was not reopened, Biden did announce that a temporary port would be built. Further, Israel approved the reopening of the Erez crossing.
The misinformation in OP’s post stems from the fact that folk will be disinterested in reading the twitter thread or any additional threads where they might have elaborated on views. Out of the thousands that interact with the post, a significant chunk will come away with the incorrect belief that Oxfam’s opposition to airdrops was merely due to what was stated in the meme. That is misinformation being propagated — not the most egregious, Hamas-esqe level of misinformation in the world, but misinformation nonetheless.

Example 7 - NYT: Bananas, or Cool as a Cucumber?

For our final example points 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 are relevant; it’s the whole shebang. To give a quick recounting here, Hobbitfollower isn’t the only masochist that might, occasionally, choose to exclusively sort by new. When I saw the submission, I read the article, and I was a bit annoyed that the Jerusalem Post article doesn’t even link to the mission report that I was interested in reading. I searched for it, posted a link to the report in the very first comment of the thread as surely my fellow dggas would also like to read the report, and then I, well, read the report.
When I returned back to the thread, I quoted favourably from the mission report to support another individual's comment. (I would again quote from it in another thread the next day to highlight why Israel struggled to acquire forensic evidence.)
But as I scrolled down the thread I came across the subject of our example; 50 upvotes, no article linked, and clearly a charged comment. Consider the steps involved to truly engage with this comment; one would need to:

• Click and read the article.
• Search for the mission report.
• Read the mission report (as some folk probably won’t wanna read 20 pages right off the bat).
• Search for the NYT article; bypass the paywall (which is trivially easy nowadays but is still a barrier, and people are lazy); and read the article.

This is a very charged thread: there are going to be a large group of pro-Israel folk browsing this thread, frustrated and irate as bad memories are invoked of all the times they’ve had to deal with or seen pro-Hamas folk engaging in rape denialism. In much the same way a leftist sub is not going to be interested in a dispassionate analysis of an Israeli strike with high civilian collateral damage, this sub — at times — will struggle to calmly assess the subject matter. An expected behaviour isn’t necessarily the correct behaviour — the actions we believe one ought to take.
When a misleading tweet goes viral, the damage has already been done, as a considerable amount of people won’t see the subsequent Community Notes that might be slapped on it. Likewise, some of the thousands who see OP’s highly upvoted comment will think, “Oh, this has a lot of upvotes, I guess it must be true. How horrible of the NYT to frame this as a both sides issue”, and thus misinformation has spread. This incorrect belief will mold their perceptions of the NYT. When they encounter more reporting by the NYT on I-P in the future, they might even think back to this moment: “Ah, I remember when these bozos tried to say that the Israeli accusations were the same as the Palestinian accusations.”
I also referred to OP’s comment as disinformation. In every example discussed so far, I don't assume malicious intent. I just begin with the foundation that a mistake was made, and I don’t enmesh myself by throwing out accusations of lying. In this case, however, OP has indirectly acknowledged that I was correct, but they still haven’t bothered to edit their original comment. Once again, this comment is a really good example of point 1. I obviously also disagree with their conclusion, and the process by which they’re arriving at their conclusion is still very flawed — and other people are simply going to adopt their conclusion while not even attempting to reach there by their own independent assessment. If you see someone quote from an article, and they don’t even link it, and the comment is very charged, I would encourage y’all to seek out the article yourself; you may come away with a different interpretation.
I'm sure you've seen this meme before: "I'm just waiting for Destiny to comment on this so that I know what to think 😎." We meme about it, but there is, of course, an undercurrent of truth here, as we have confidence in Destiny's ability to research, and thus we feel comfortable adopting his beliefs and opinions. It's nice not having to do the research ourselves. Lazy fucks.
This applies to Reddit comments you see as well. Don't just adopt the conclusion of someone else because their beliefs align with yours and they're speaking with authority. Do the legwork yourself; be mindful of The Six Points; and you might find that someone on your own side is actually spreading misinformation, or is espousing an opinion that you disagree with.

Purgatory

I was perma-banned some time after my previous comment for a comment I made in a different thread. Before I get to that in the next fuck-me-who-knows-how-I'm-gonna-write-that-I'm-so-fucked section, I did want to bring up two final examples.

Example A - Haaretz and Amputations

For Example A, points 1, 3, 4, and 5 are relevant. Obviously, I can’t attempt point 6 because I was banned. Now, I actually agree with OP as I share their skepticism towards the notion that these amputations are “routine”, but referring to the article as a "fake story" is too strong, and, as always, their process here is flawed. The claims they make here about the Haaretz article and CNN article are misleading, but it is immediately upvoted because it feels right, particularly because the first reply just poisons the well. Haaretz did not speak to an anonymous person, they are reporting on a letter they have seen written by a doctor and sent to senior Israeli officials; the doctor did not justify the claim that the event is routine based on having seen only two amputations, that's merely the amputations they saw in the week they wrote the letter (but the phrasing here is ambiguous, as the doctor could be referring to the handcuff injuries as being the "routine" event); and the IDF did not confirm or deny all the claims, but gave a fairly standard, boilerplate response instead. The misleading claims in this comment was eventually addressed — and, as I’m sure you’re irritated by the repetition by now, the goal of this post is to turn this “eventually” into an “immediately.”

Example B - Wikipedia and Devious Editing

For Example B, points 1 and 5 are relevant. I want to be very careful with this one as I don't want to be misconstrued. Similar to the previous example, I mostly agree with their conclusion that these Wikipedia pages can be very flawed, and partisan editors can tarnish the objectivity that we wish could be maintained across all articles. However, you know the drill by now, point 1. There’s much to be said about the infamous “24-hour window” debacle, and I made a submission a while ago on this. I think there are parts of this story that both the pro-Palestine and pro-Israel crowd get wrong — but the latter is generally more correct, and I would agree with OP here that the information here is, at the very least, incomplete.
However, per point 5, the articles they are critiquing are not linked. How many people here actually sought out the two articles referenced here? As I’ve already demonstrated, we know how many misleading or false claims you can get away with before they’re finally addressed. A user in that thread made some edits to the contentious lines in question in the Wikipedia article. This was the Wikipedia article at the time OP’s comment was made. OP quotes this section:

Prior to the raids, Israel had called for the more than a million people living in the north half of the Gaza Strip to evacuate during a 24-hour window, while Hamas instructed those residents to stay put.

The two citations here are a Reuters article and a Politico article. The Politico article is arguably redundant, but it’s not being cited because it’s supposed to make a statement about a 24-hour window; it’s being cited to support the statement about Hamas:

Hamas is complicating the situation, urging residents to stay in their homes.

The Reuters article also mentions this:

“We tell the people of northern Gaza and from Gaza City, stay put in your homes, and your places," Eyad Al-Bozom, spokesman for the Hamas Interior Ministry, told a news conference.

Contrary to what OP said, both articles use the word “evacuation” at some point. The first part of the quote from the Wikipedia page is supported by this statement in the Reuters article:

On Friday Israel gave more than a million residents of the northern half of Gaza 24 hours to flee to the south to avoid an onslaught.

In a follow-up comment OP claims that the archived link, which pulled the earliest version of the Reuters article available, does not support the line. This seems to have been an error on the part of whoever chose this hyperlink. When the Wikipedia article first mentions calls for evacuation, this was how the Reuters article cited looked like at the time; regardless of the veracity of the claim, the article did support what the Wikipedia page mentions.
To reiterate, OP is completely correct about this pernicious problem with Wikipedia. It’s just that in this example, I don’t think it qualifies as a case of those darn pro-Palestine editors back at it again. The nuanced position here is pretty difficult to get to, and I don’t think the editors wrote this line in the interest of distorting the truth to serve their own side.

Example B.5: A better yet slightly flawed post on Wikipedia and Euro-Med Monitor

This post about how Hamas supporters are influencing Wikipedia does better in terms of substantiating their claims — but there are issues here that I would have loved to address, and there is a good critique on OP’s prescriptions that was buried at the bottom. Unfortunately, OP has been suspended from Reddit. If you’re reading this mate, call me 🥺.
There are a lot of hyperlinks in OP’s post (lol, sez fucking me), and it’s completely reasonable that someone won’t feel inclined to click every single one; that’s not an expectation I would ever demand. From going through the post, there are several small critiques I would have made (e.g., while I don’t believe the Mondo article should have been cited, OP claims that in the article, “The only people criticizing Wiesel here is the author of the opinion piece.” FWIW, the article does reference and cite a Haaretz article, and a Foreign policy article, both of which levy criticism against Wiesel), but I’m just going to focus on this line:

In fact, it is owned by a man named Ramy Abdu, who is a literal Hamas lobbyist.

If you’re going to call someone a literal Hamas lobbyist, that is definitely a link I’m clicking. What I know about Abdu is simply what I can assume about his beliefs from various tweets I’ve seen by him over the past several months; but I’ve never looked into their background other than being aware of their position at EMM. Upon opening the link I see… a 2013 article about Clare Short. From reading the article, it looks like OP missed some steps in outlining how they arrived at their conclusion, and I saw only a few people inquiring about this. To fill in the steps on what I presume OP wanted to say, from the article they linked:

Moshe Ya’alon, former IDF chief of staff, outlawed the Council for European Palestinian Relations (CEPR) – a Belgian non-profit organisation that lobbies on behalf of the Hamas-led Gaza Government – using emergency defence regulations.

I haven’t looked into CEPR, and they obviously disputed the lobbying charge; I’m just going to take the claim at face-value. In 2011, Abdu was assistant director of the CEPR, and still held a position there for several years. They've since left the organization, but per point 1, if this is how OP arrived at the conclusion that Abdu is a “literal Hamas lobbyist”, I think it could use a bit more work, with additional clarification on what they mean by lobbyist here. I’m sure they can do it, it just happened to not be in this post.
I'm not going to harp on about point 5 here as I only apply that to incidents where a claim is made; one or two articles are linked; and then no one reads them, assuming the claim must be true as long as articles are provided. I would literally never make the prescription that if someone writes an effort-post, we must click every hyperlink to fact-check. I mean, it's not like I would have any other motivation for saying that... sweats profusely 🙄
Just to make one final point on EMM, it is a rubbish outlet, and any time I encounter one of their articles, I roll my eyes knowing I’m going to get some outlandish claim where I can find fuck-all for corroboration from other outlets. However, sometimes there is corroboration, where EMM was the first to notice that the IDF labelled a bicycle as an RPG in the drone footage they published, and then the NYT confirmed the finding (except for the other stupid claim made in the tweet.) But anyways, these moments are astronomically rare.

Example C - A Mysterious Royal Website (What a weaselly little --)

Okay, I lied, one final example as it’s interesting to see how people here parse articles and headlines, but before I address the example, let me talk about Reuters headlines.

Reuters headlines

They’re not always consistent on this front, but I generally like how Reuters writes their headlines. A Reuters headline will often contain the phrase “US says”. [30] [31] [32] What I’m expecting in the article when I see a headline containing this phrase is some official representing the Biden administration outlining what their particular policy, position, belief, etc., is on whatever the subject matter may be, or some action they took which makes it clear what their position is. In the given examples, we have statements from Biden, Blinken, the US military, and so on. Sometimes the US officials remain anonymous, sharing information in private briefings.
If there isn’t an official statement by the US available on a matter, the headline might use the phrase “source says” to talk about ongoing developments. [33] [34] “Reuters will use unnamed sources where necessary when they provide information of market or public interest that is not available on the record. We alone are responsible for the accuracy of such information.” [35]
Relevant to Example C, Reuters uses the same guidelines for “Saudi Arabia says” [36] [37] and “sources say” for information relevant to Saudi Arabia. [38]

Israeli outlets, A royal family website, and Saudi sources: An amusing chain of events

Keeping the previous section in mind, when I came across this version of a Jerusalem Post article posted to this subreddit, you can imagine what I’m expecting here — particularly because this would be momentous news to see Saudi Arabia make a public statement that they helped defend Israel. Instead, we get reporting on what Saudi Arabia’s royal family said on their website, and what a source connected to the Saudi royal family told KAN, another Israeli outlet — and we don’t get links to either of them. If there was no statement on the royal family’s website, this would have been a bad headline to write based on what this source said. Unfortunately for the JP, there is no official website for Saudi Arabia’s royal family. You’ll see in the current version, they remove the reference to that website, and also add the following line:

The Al Arabiya news site said sources had informed it that Saudi Arabia had not participated in the interception of Iranian drones and missiles.

Here’s the article by the Saudi state-owned outlet, which is essentially their mouthpiece to deny the ongoing report. I24news, however, didn’t get the memo:

Saudi Arabia publicly acknowledges role in defending Israel against Iranian attack
While Jordan had openly disclosed its role in the defensive maneuver, Saudi Arabia's acknowledgment came in the form of a summary on its official website

When I first saw the JP submission on this subreddit, I bookmarked it for later to come back to and find the sources, as it’s not the first time I’ve seen dubious reporting from KAN news. I was also curious if anyone in the thread was going to highlight some of the discrepancies in the article, and, well, shoutout to this keen reader! Fact-checking the JP article slipped my mind, but thanks to a comment I saw on another subreddit, they correctly pointed out that the website referenced was not affiliated with the Saudi royal family, and thus the article the JP and other Israeli outlets had presumably read should not have been taken as an official statement. Christ, this is obvious from the very first line:

A source from the Saudi royal family, who prefers anonymity, converses with the Kan public broadcaster. The individual subtly acknowledges Saudi Arabia’s supposed involvement in thwarting Iranian attack drones bound for Israel the previous evening, citing that Saudi Arabian airspace automatically intercepts “any suspicious entity”.
The same figure takes a swing at Iran, accusing them of instigating a conflict in Gaza. This, they suggest, is a deliberate attempt to unravel the progress established towards normalizing relations with Israel, as per Kan’s report.
In the words of the official, as put forth by Kan, “Iran is a nation that endorses terrorism, and the world should have curtailed it much earlier.”

Why would the official Saudi royal website use an anonymous source within the royal family to make their public announcement, and why would they quote what the official said to an Israeli outlet?!
It’s fascinating to see this play out: the supposed source spoke to Kan News; Houseofsaud presumably sees this and makes an article on the Kan segment; the JP sees this article and the segment, poorly reads it, and then cites it and the original Kan segment; outlets like the Daily Wire pick up on the story from the JP; and then on it goes, spreading like wildefire, before the Saudis take note (“oh fuck, oh fuck, where are these reports coming from?”) and disseminate a message denying that any “official” website publicly confirmed their involvement. The Saudis are involved, and they’re keeping tight-lipped about the extent of their involvement.
Just to quote one more line from the i24news article because it’s shockingly poor:

The post subtly hinted at Saudi Arabia's involvement in intercepting suspicious entities in its airspace, highlighting the kingdom's proactive stance in safeguarding regional stability.

This is written based on this line from the HouseofSaud article:

A source from the Saudi royal family, who prefers anonymity, converses with the Kan public broadcaster. The individual subtly acknowledges Saudi Arabia’s supposed involvement in thwarting Iranian attack drones bound for Israel the previous evening, citing that Saudi Arabian airspace automatically intercepts “any suspicious entity”.

It’s the individual/source who is being subtle, not the post itself as i24 news mentions.
Anyways, this is not a case of misinformation by the subreddit. There's nothing wrong with posting a JP article, and this is easily the least offensive Example, but point 5 is nicely relevant here. I thought y'all might find this to be interesting, particularly because some people probably still believe that Saudi Arabia has publicly acknowledged their involvement, and maybe that could be someone reading this section. It's also another example where, because I’m banned, I can’t offer a bit of nuance. stares intently at 4THOT
It’s a shame Destiny didn’t finish reading the article, I’m curious what he would have said. He speculates that the report was from intelligence or monitoring, but moves on before finishing the article; it’s also the updated version of the article, without the tidbit about the Saudi royal family website.

Finito

I'm going to close out this section here. There's always more to include, more examples that demonstrate the aforementioned points, but I'd rather focus on my own comments instead of threads where I was unable to contribute my thoughts. There's been a plethora of discourse here surrounding the campus protests, and maybe those are still ongoing if I manage to post this at a sooner date. For completely legitimate and fair justifications, all of these threads are going to be very charged; and maybe upon reading this post some of y'all might feel more inclined to analyze these situations dispassionately, mindful of cases where the reporting might not be the greatest.

Example D - A Late Fact-check (Still lying, dude!)

I fucking lied again, there’s more. Literally the day after I finished writing the above paragraph, a new example popped up that I can’t resist the temptation to include. Stop giving me material! As I spoke of above, the campus protests have resulted in a charged atmosphere on the subreddit, which means that this post stating that a “Jewish-Israeli family’s restaurant was targeted in a hate crime” is immediately catapulted to the front page. The biggest problem here is that, per point 2, the presentation of the post led folk to believe that this was a recent event because OP had omitted the date this took place, and this led to one user to thoughtfully suggest that it might be worth setting up a GoFundMe to help the owners with the repairs.
To reemphasize the point I’ve made throughout this post, I’m looking to incentivise better behaviour to occur sooner. It took nearly 10 hours before one jolly chap came along to do the fact-check. Naturally, had I seen this post while browsing arnew, I would have done the same, and so would a couple other users here as well who are good for this sort of thing — and that's unfortunate that I’m saying a “couple” instead of “many.” There is no curiosity amongst everyone who interacted with this post to inquire into the event; not even something simple as requesting OP for an article. So folks, always ask for a source if OP doesn’t provide one just so you have a bit more context. (Also, I am fascinated with the anecdote OP attached to this post. Did they just make up their credentials?)

Example E - Hebrew Sources and False Confidence

This is a wonderful example to close out this section because it exemplifies so many of the problematic behaviours that I have demonstrated in this post. I was only made aware of this thread because a user here DM'd me a link to the thread. I will refer to the individual posting misinformation in the comments as "OP", and I'll refer to the submitter of the post by their username, Sylmd. The rebuttals to OP are excellent, and I will focus more on the behaviour here.
Sylmd posted a submission doing a quick lil' fact-check on a Destiny tweet, noting the fact that he seemed to have misread or misremembered a particular report. I say "seemed" here in case Destiny was referring to some other report or article he had read, but that seems unlikely as he has referenced this report in several of his debates, and the report was the subject of his previous tweets. Regardless, it was a small mistake, and apart from failing to immediately link the tweet and the report (link your sources you silly goose), Sylmd's post is civil, calm, and makes no accusations of malicious intent.
According to OP, Destiny was actually right, and 300+ IDF soldiers were in fact injured. Now, there's so much that is astonishingly problematic with OP's comment, and I gotta... mention it all! Sorry!
Naturally, they don't ever quote from their sources, which means it's on us to try and find the relevant sections. OP claims that the articles linked will demonstrate that 380 Israelis were injured -- despite the fact that Sylmd is obviously doing a fact-check on how many Israeli soldiers were injured, and that's literally the subject of Destiny's tweet.
Whatever, I'm sure the articles at least "discusses around 380 injuries"? Fuck no they don't! There's no mention of this figure anywhere, and OP somehow racks up 50 upvotes when they accuse Sylmd of lying after they correctly point this out. Did these people actually read the articles, find this magical 380 figure, and think, "Grrr, Sylmd you mendacious scumbag, I see through your Hamas propaganda." Sylmd was sitting at -31, one hour after the thread was made. (If you refer back to Example 2, you'll see that I felt compelled to make a submission when I saw a user was being downvoted for correctly pointing out that an article did not prove a particular claim.)
It gets worse. Apparently, you have to "click through all the links in these articles buddy." Well, okay, that's pretty elaborate, how silly of us not to realize this. OP wants us to open up nine Hebrew articles, translate them, and then tally up the number of casualties. Problem? Surely we get to the 380 figure if we click through all the hyperlinks in the article? Fuck no we don't! And even if we did, this is the most blisteringly cumbersome way to prove a claim. The sheer condescension in OP's comment is equivalent to that of a Twitter leftist: "It's not my job to educate you honey, you must read the literature."
So where does this mysterious figure come from? Well, as Sylmd correctly pointed out (before OP mentioned it), they are grabbing this figure from Hebrew Wikipedia. Sylmd doesn't provide a link to the article in question, so I will provide it here, and as you can see, the two articles that OP linked came from this Wikipedia page. I'm not convinced OP actually read either of these articles.
That's not all. They then linked a report in Hebrew in their edit. Where did they get this report from? It's not on the Wikipedia page, maybe this is something they have bookmarked? Nope, they got it from another user in the thread! After all is said and done, they still somehow racked up 270 upvotes for this awful rebuttal, and they were, "Proud to take a blast for defending the truth."
Do I even need to mention the points here? It's an authoritative comment; the linked articles give an "aura" of being correct; and there's confidence in all their comments.
To quote from Example 1:

Anyways, since I began this post it looks like the upvotes and downvotes on the original comment have since shifted. Mashallah. It's the behaviour I was describing before: all the low-effort garbage gets upvoted first, and then other people break the circlejerk and try to add nuance. But it would be nice if the nuance was added first and foremost without the need for tedious fact-checks.

That still holds true today.

Consistency and Principles

Do I only address misinformation from the pro-Israel side? Not that it should matter, but no, I will address misinformation from the pro-Palestine on this subreddit if I see it and I feel like addressing it. I was irritated to see muppets like Rob Rousseau spread conspiracies about a "suspicious link" between ISIS and Mossad, and I encountered a user here who was sprouting similar conspiratorial nonsense. You’ll notice that (1) I was blessed to be called a “Reddit pseudo intellectual libtard” (not wrong, not false, this hurts bro); and (2) I apply the exact same methodology here as I do for the examples of misinformation I've addressed elsewhere — which isn’t to say I’m doing anything commendable here. I just read the articles, trying to find the primary sources where relevant, and then see if the “reporting” accurately conveys what was said or written.
However, digging up the original source can be a time-consuming endeavour, and compounded by the fact that I might not speak the relevant language — which means that there was a case where I inadvertently made a comment containing misinformation. A couple months ago someone requested a steelman of the argument that Israel is conducting a genocide against Gazans; I offered one, and to support the case I used a misquote taken from a Bloomberg video which omitted a crucial part of Yoev Gallant’s statement: the reference to Hamas, and thus radically changing the context of the statement. I hold myself to the same principle when it comes to curbing misinformation, and I was more than content to edit my comment to ensure it did not propagate further than it already had.
Some of you eagle-eyed readers might recognize this Gallant quote, as it made a very marked appearance within… South Africa's genocide case against Israel. Here, that salient reference to Hamas is also omitted, and the accompanying footnote cites the same Bloomberg video that I did. As I wished in another reply, Bloomberg did indeed take the video down eventually. Now, I can be excused for my mistake as I’m not making the positive case outside of my steelman. For South Africa, this is unbelievably shoddy work when you're officially bringing a genocide case against another state.
Anyways, I've gone through many examples in this schizo-post, and it's entirely possible that I've made an error at some point; the irony is not lost on me. Feel free to point these errors out. I might not agree with your assessment, but I'm always willing to hear the arguments.

Prescriptions: The Six Points (Déjà vu)

I'm going to end with The Six Points because that's the focus of Part 1 and Part 2. As previously mentioned, this post is not intended to demonstrate that the misinformation the pro-Israel crowd spreads is as egregious as the misinformation the pro-Palestine spreads, whether in general or on this subreddit. While misinformation from the pro-Palestine crowd slips by every now and then on the subreddit, I would make the case that, generally speaking, it is quickly addressed. In my experience, however, I was finding quite a few cases of misinformation from the pro-Israel crowd were taking a concerning amount of time to be addressed; and in the interest of ensuring that it does get addressed in a more timely manner, I believe the following prescriptions would be helpful to keep in mind when browsing the subreddit:

1. Value the process just as much — if not, more — than the conclusion.
2. Be wary of how the presentation of information or the omission of pertinent information can lead to the inadvertent spread of misinformation.
3. Be aware of how “charged” topics/threads lead to poor reasoning that lacks dispassionate analysis.
4. Be aware of how pre-existing beliefs about an individual or organization alongside the usual biases leads to a reluctance to fact-check, where claims are taken at face-value because they feel right.
5. Link the article. Read the article. (Thoroughly.)
6. Redirect criticism to areas where it will be the strongest.

Click here for Part 3. Warning: you might get stung by a bee 🐝

There's something up here with me.
Since I returned to the world of the living, I've been doing my best to become an active member of society again and to try and earn my ticket to heaven in the meantime.
Even though I can't afford this luxury right now, I always donate a portion of my salary to charity, do volunteer work on weekends, and help out at a community kitchen on Thursdays after work.
All of this is to avoid going back there.
But I don't know how well this can work, nor do I know if by gaining this new life, I also received a new chance.
There's something I haven't told you.
If none of this makes sense to you, it´s good to take a look at my first post.
If you missed the last update, I recommend reading it before continuing.
The truth is that my torment hasn't completely stopped. Since I returned from the dead, my nights are filled with agony and terror.
The nightmares are terrible, but when I wake up shrouded in the darkness of my room, I can sometimes discern things in the shadows.
Arachnid-like forms with dozens of eyes and mouths that sing profanities.
Throughout the day, I can still see them, in the corner of my eye almost like a permanent silhouette, a reminder that they're watching me, just waiting for my last breath to take me back via the VIP express lane.
I think Samael didn't like being deceived one bit.
Now, however, it's not the time to recount my escape. There are still many dangers I've yet to warn you about.
And if after your death you find yourselves wandering through the infernal circles, surely at some point you'll come across the Silver City.
The last vestige of community in hell.
Gehenna is like a living structure, a fabric composed of buildings, streets, and alleys that stretches vertically through the 9 circles that compose the abyss.
When I died, I arose just like many others in Lust, the third circle of Hell, contrary to what Alighieri claimed.
The real order of the circles would be: Limbo, Greed, Lust, Wrath, Gluttony, Heresy, Violence, Treachery, and finally, Pride.
The goal of the Collectors was set like a jewel in the center of Limbo.
It's funny, in Dante's work, the city is portrayed as a paradise away from heaven for those with good hearts who never accepted Jesus into their lives. Their only punishment would be to never glimpse the face of God.
Damn, I wish it were like that.
I woke up with the mettalic taste of blood still on my mouth.
A gentle voice was saying something, but with my ears ringing, I couldn't make out anything. I could tell there was something in front of me, the smell was good, my stomach reminded me I was yet to eat anything.
Without much choice, I accepted the charity and ate. The taste was surprisingly good, if I were to describe it, it's something close to pork.
I spent some time just eating and recovering. I was also given a canteen of warm water; it tasted weird, but It was not like I was gonna complain.
As my senses returned, I could understand what the young man in front of me was saying.
I still remember his face, without any bruises,shallow beard and a glimmer of hope that didn't match that place at all.
"Feeling better now ?"
" I guess.. where are we now, Is that thing still here ? "
I tried sitting but a sharp pain on my chest stopped me from moving.
"Hey take it easy now. You're so skinny you look like a twig. When was the last time you ate?"
"About 10 seconds ago "
He smiled a bit.
"Well at least now you´re good enough to enjoy the ride"
With that, I felt prompted to look around, and finally noticed that we were on the back of a strange pickup truck.
Not only that, some sort of locomotive seemed to form around us. In total, there were four vehicles.
Our pickup stood at the center, with metal plaques around its frame and sharp grates on the ends confining us.
On our left, an old mustang suffered to keep itself close traveling on such uneven terrain.
On our right I could see Mice on top of an old motocicle gigling to himself, I silently wished he crashed.
Leading the group ahead, I could see the rear of a black van, and finally, following behind, I saw what appeared to be a Honda with smashed windows and covered in dents.
"Where are they taking us?"
"I have no idea, but anything must be better than these fucking fields."
Recalling Mice's delusions, I wasn't so sure about that.
"Who are you? Are you with them too?"
"I think we're in the same boat, buddy."
"The last guy who called me 'buddy' tied me up and dragged me into the clutches of a monster."
"I don't like them one bit, but from what I saw when we arrived, he was trying to protect you."
"So you really are one of them!"
"I already said we're in the same shit-hole. I got caught by the masked one while trying to hunt dinner." he said, pointing out the window towards the driver of the pickup, a tall, muscular man wearing a strange wooden mask.
"Sorry, the past few days have been so... God If you only knew what I've been through."
The young man chuckled sincerely. "Friend, I'm sure whatever you've been through, I've lived it dozens of times already. The name's John, nice to meet you."
"Well, John, you can call me Nate. I would shake your hand, but..." I nudged towards the wires on my hands. "
"Could be worse" He gestured towards his feet.
They where chopped off.
"Holy shit! I´m sorry John, these guys are insane!"
"Don´t be, They will be back once I die, but I have a feeling they will not let that happen so soon."
We could already see the spire slowly coming into view on the horizon.
"You sound used to all of this."
"Don't tell me, you're new?"
" I...still can´t believe this is all real"
"You better come to terms with it fast; this place doesn't take pity on the weak."
We didn't feel like chatting after that.
I wanted to ask about what I was given to eat, but something told me I would be better off not knowing. We traveled far towards the Spire, Gehenna slowly embracing us again with its dark skies.
From up close, I was able to see an opening in the base of the Spire.
The twisted terrain of the fields gave way to broken roads and dusted buildings, screams of despair found their way back to my ears as we passed near the tar pits.
Haunted by memories of my arrival, I couldn't help but search for the beasts that mauled me in the confusing streets of the city. I don't know if it was because of the sound of the engines or the size of our group, but I didn't see them among the wreckage and alleyways.
As we approached the Spire, a strange icy breeze embraced us. The shock was so intense that I lost my breath, trembling as I noticed a thin layer of ice forming rapidly on the pickup truck.
"Try to control your breathing, it'll pass soon."
"What is this now?"
"Specters."
As we finally reached the center of Lust, I realized we were not alone.
The base of the Spire held an immense arched opening, from which a dark interior was barely visible. Above the entrance, crucified on the wall, I saw a man; the slight movement of his head and his blue eyes made my stomach churn.
The culprits for the sudden cold gathered below the man in desperation. There were dozens of them, humanoid beings emitting a faint glow and seeming to levitate; their cries echoed through the city, spreading along with their icy presence.
The man only watched them, one by one, but said nothing.
He seemed to be judging them.
The engines shut off, and one by one the collectors descended from the vehicles.
Mice was the first to approach; the specters recoiled from him like cockroaches fleeing from light.
He then looked the man in the eyes, bowed, and said:
"Oh Aeacus! King of Aegina, my heart is not pure for rest, my eyes are blind to injustice, and my fists only weigh for my desires. From dust I came and to dust I return, my soul judged to forever burn, so I beg you to open the doors to my torment."
The Man's eyes locked onto Mice for a moment, then his lips whispered something in an elaborate tongue, and the darkness of the entrance turned into a scarlet mass.
I didn't knew about the kings back then. Aeacus is the easiest to convince; he oversees the higher circles. They say if you're under Minos's gaze, however, I hope you enjoy the lower circles because he's unlikely to grant you passage. And if you're a special kind of unlucky, I suggest you don't even try to approach Rhadamantus unless you want a one-way ticket to Pride.
The collectors then pulled us out of the cars, displaying us like trophies in an organized line. I had to support John on my shoulders; otherwise, they would have made him crawl the rest of the way.
From the other cars, a few more people emerged, other unfortunate souls with the same destination as mine. I saw a beautiful woman with short red hair and brown eyes; she was injured with several cuts on her back. The collector taking her out of the van seemed pleased; I tried not to dwell on it too much. She stared at me intensely, looking scared.
A man had to be forcibly removed from the Honda by two collectors. He was big and strong, dark-skinned with furious eyes, long braids cascading from his head to the middle of his back, a terrible scar showing on his left arm.
To this day, I have no idea how they managed to capture that bastard; later, he would tell me that they didn't got him until after he'd taken down some of them.
Finally, an old man with a band over his eyes was pushed into line; he looked so worn down that I thought I would see him turning to dust at any moment.
Mice then made his way to the entrance and was swallowed by the mass.
The collectors forced us to enter, one by one I saw everyone being pushed into the unknown, looking around I tried to think of something, some escape route.
"Don't do anything stupid," John whispered in my ear. "It won't work."
I thought about throwing him at them and running for my life. I didn't know him, didn't know a damn thing about him except his name. A glance at the collectors' weapons made me change my mind; I wouldn't get far even if I did find an opening.
Finally, my turn came. With the weight of John still on my shoulders, I walked to the entrance with my heart pounding in fear.
The mass that filled it seemed to react to me, stretching to cover my body, the scarlet glow blinding me as the collectors urged me to hurry.
I reached out my hand and felt a slight resistance, almost like touching cold gelatin. I felt it pulling me, and before my head was completely swallowed, I held my breath.
My body was warm; it was like being bathed in soup, every exposed inch of my skin burning, but the agony was only beginning.
I felt that strange mass invading me, entering through my nose, ears, eyes.
It hurt.
I tried to scream but my lungs were filled with the alien substance that forced its way through my organs; I felt like I was about to lose consciousness.
A shockwave ran through my body; I felt as if I was being torn into a thousand pieces and reformed, my consciousness used as a child's toy.
And then I was spat out.
I barfed on the gray grass that solemnly clung to me; John lay beside me, eyes rolled back, red fluid still trickling from his mouth.
I didn't have time to worry about him.
Before me, proudly stood what can only be described as a monument of sin.
Far from the light of hope it once was, now taken and calloused, abused and defiled by the filthy ideals of the damned scum.
Its golden streets don't shine.
Its security only harbors hate.
Its cracked walls don't protect, they only confine.
Even though I didn't knew much about hell, didn't knew its history or care about its purpose, I could see in that moment that I was looking at the greatest disrespect to the sacred that could exist.
An empire built with blood and erected by desire.
The Silver City opened its gates to me.
With the intention of never letting me go again.
The other collectors arrived, and one by one we were introduced to the next 40 years of our lives.
The memories of this city are painful. I tried to ditch this shit given the purpose of it all, but a drag is necessary if I'm really going to recall the decades I spent under that tyrant's rule.
Passing through the rusty gates, the lower city is the first thing you see. Jack leaves this region of the Silver City for his merchants to sell their findings in the lower circles, where everywhere you look, prostitutes and slaves accompany the more fortunate. Jack's personal guard takes advantage of his authority to get everything they want without spending a penny, of course.
Linked to the lower city by a rudimentary elevator, the Pleasure Zone casts its glow over those below, a neighborhood where the best drinks, drugs, and alterations can easily be found. Hunters and collectors usually walk around there, spending their earnings to calm their vices and complaining about their King's insane demands.
But by far, the most striking sight is a castle covered in soot, built at the highest level of the city, where only Jack's personal circle can tread without being summoned.
That's exactly where we were being taken.
John was still unconscious, being carried by our captors.
As we walked under the guns, naked and defenseless, the malicious glares of the vendors assessed us as new merchandise.
My feet ached, full of blisters; I couldn't feel my hands anymore. Looking at a toothless man being pulled by a chain around his neck, I wondered if that would be my fate.
Desperation was beginning to consume me.
We ascended to the Pleasure Zone by elevator, the same one powered by the brute force of several slaves harnessed to the wall, their hands raw from continuous and repetitive effort.
The hallucinogenic fumes from the laboratories filled the street of the neighborhood. I felt my heart race, my skin tingle, and a sweet smell invading my mind. The woman accompanying us seemed to recognize the substance as she lunged towards the source of the vapors. Mice kicked her in the stomach, making her kneel, grabbed her by the hair, and laughed.
"You fucking addict! You've used this shit before, haven't you? Look at the way you're trembling, hahaha! If they don't send you to the brothel, I might have an idea of what to do with you!"
She didn't seem to understand, or care, drooling from her mouth and experiencing small spasms as the drug filled her lungs.
Wish I could say I avoided it, but this shit is strong; within a few minutes, I was almost as high as when the Succubus attacked.
We then walked through the alleyways towards a staircase carved in marble; a sinner was overdosing against the steps.
Mice shot him in the head and threw him aside.
One moment he was alive, and the next, the remnants of his brain adorned the ground.
I gasped for air, my vision darkening; I meant nothing to them, they could dispose of me whenever they wanted.
I felt like I was going to die. I felt like I was going back to the tar pits, seeing myself suffering and being devoured for ages, running only to be captured, no rest, no warning.
What kind of being would create such a rotten place? Why did he have the right to read my soul and throw me towards this flaming lake? It's not fair, it's sick.
As I climbed the stairs, stepping on the remnants of the sinner's mind, I wondered if God was watching me at that moment.
Maybe he was having fun.
The biblical hell holds a king.
It shelters demons and powerful beings born from darkness itself.
And as you already know, beings made by the Creator's own hand.
It wouldn't be at that moment that I would meet Samael, but alongside the self-proclaimed human King, I met his right-hand beast.
When the doors of the castle opened, I fell to my knees on the ground.
An angelic figure, with the aura of pure evil.
A feminine body, dressed in white adorned with jade, three pairs of long and golden wings kept her hovering a few meters above the ground.
On her face, a twisted helmet, with an eternal black flame at its peak, portraying what was, what is, and what will come.
The base of her helmet completely covers her eyes, squeezing them with such force that blood constantly drips to the ground. Her face constantly changes—a slender young woman, a frightened child, an irritated elder, a black goat, a hungry tarantula, an unnamed beast, an indescribable void.
In her hands, a chain hangs a clock, which constantly moves, which moves constantly. It tries to guess the hour, the hour that only He knows, constantly wrong, corrects itself, recoils, recalculates, wrong, corrects itself, recoils, recalculates, wrong.
Such a beautiful creature, fell alongside the morning star, with a third of the stars, to forever hate us, to extinguish everything and everyone.
Who was I compared to such perfection?
Who was I compared to such obscenity?
I felt broken.
I felt complete.
Terrified.
Emancipated.
A thousand mouths sang in a thousand languages in my mind, all equally correct, all equally wrong.
The duality that leads to madness.
In my heart, he introduced himself, Astaroth, the Grand Duke of Hell.
With a flick of his hand, he disappeared, but I still felt him watching us, assessing us.
Seated on a broken throne, there was the face of control.
Almost as tall and robust as my captured companion, a short, defined beard adorned a ruthless face marked by battles.
Gray hair and a leather cloak, a silver medallion around his neck, and a shining red ring on his left hand, eating grapes like a Greek emperor.
Jack graced us with his presence.
Mice once again took the initiative.
"My lord, we have found fresh meat of the highest quality to expand your empire, mostly young and strong, and the old one is wise and knows the ancient rituals."
Jack looked at us as if we were worms, evaluating us like a spoiled child receiving gifts at Christmas.
"You bring me trash and expect gratitude. If this is what you consider good quality, perhaps it's time to revoke your position."
Jack's ring began to glow, and I felt Astaroth's strong presence growing. Mice quickly knelt and spoke again.
"My king! One of them appears to be marked." Mice then looked at me with a malicious smile, sending a shiver down my spine.
Jack observed me, the disdain in his eyes palpable.
He seemed to notice something at that moment, scratched his beard, and smiled.
"Mice! I can always count on you to keep me entertained. Take him to the pit, send the others to the dungeon. There may be something useful in this batch after all.
Before I could protest, I was struck on the head with the butt of a gun, and I lost consciousness.
Sorry, I need a moment. Just remembering the terrible nights I spent in that place makes me feel sick.
Man, I hope smoking doesn't count as too big of a sin.
When I woke up, I was chained to a wooden pillar by the neck, with several other sinners chained around me.
The place was poorly lit, and I could smell feces and urine. They didn't even release us to go to the bathroom.
In front of me, Jack stood with two guards.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. I'm sorry to disturb your rest, but I have some questions, and if you cooperate, you may find yourself involved in something much bigger and more important than your miserable afterlife."
"Screw you! I've seen the things your people do, you're all crazy. I don't want anything to do with you!"
Jack's ring began to glow, and Astaroth's silhouette became visible even in the deep darkness.
"For your own good, I hope you learn to have good manners. Now tell me, where is he?"
"What?"
The ring glowed, and Astaroth entered my mind.
The concept of emptiness is terrifying.
Non-existence is dreadful.
Emptiness occupied existence before everything existed; in the beginning, there was nothing, and then there was God.
My consciousness faded away, I felt the void corrupting my flesh prison; it's not a lack of senses, it's Nothing.
Sounds didn't vanish; they turned into nothingness. Along with sensations, memories, my existence.
I was completely devoured. I wanted to scream, but there was no voice, no will.
I wanted to exist, but there was never an "I."
I vanished completely, and then I was catapulted back into existence, where I could feel everything.
The infinite, it destroys.
Through Astaroth's eyes, I saw, I understood, not even in a thousand and one lives could I touch one percent of the truth.
My brain burned, flooded with everything that was, everything that would come. I cried, I screamed, agony drove me to madness; time made no sense anymore.
And then everything stopped. In despair, I screamed, I cried like a child. Jack embraced me with the tenderness of a mother as I collapsed into his chest. He gently stroked my head while speaking softly.
"Poor thing, so much suffering, so much lamentation. Pain is a choice, and I don't want it for you. I love you; I love all my possessions from the bottom of my heart. I only want what's best for you, but for that, I need your help. I want your pain to stop, help me make it stop! You just need to tell me, Where. is. he?"
I didn't want to return to nothingness; I didn't want to suffer with knowledge. Desperately, I lied; I said I knew where whoever he was looking for was, I would show him, he just had to let me go.
Jack acquired a sad expression, gently lifted my face, and said.
"Oh, child, why do you lie to me?"
With the scarlet glow of the ring, once again, I ceased to exist, catapulted between two extremes, blood streaming from my ears, I laughed, cried, begged.
All to make it stop, for him to remove that being from the room, I just wanted peace.
I felt my cells giving up, exploding and restructuring; memories were erased and returned, lived a thousand times per second.
My wife, my daughter, the drugs, the betrayal, the accident, the body, the hospital, the fall.
Once again, everything stopped.
I spat blood on Jack's cloak, who asked me again.
"Where is he, come on, damn it, just tell me! He marked you, he touched you, come on, where the hell is Samael, tell me and I'll leave you alone!"
I pleaded, I tried to tell him that I didn't know who he was talking about, I promised obedience, my life, anything for mercy.
Once again, he sent me to the void. For countless nights, the cycle repeated itself, I have no idea how long I was tortured in that place.
Eventually, Jack began to use me in other ways.
My days were divided between slave labor in the lower city and nights of torment in Jack's palace.
At the time, I didn't understand how he couldn't see that he was wrong; clearly, there was nothing special about me, I couldn't lead him to Samael, I was just a damned soul who could barely endure the first days in the abyss.
I just hadn't realized that Jack already had the certainty that I was different. After all, how could I be a nobody if Astaroth couldn't extract the "truth" from me, and they had to resort to torture?
Hope vanished from my chest; I didn't know if I would ever escape from there, if I would see John again before my soul was corrupted by the Grand Duke.
The years dragged on, and Jack's fury only grew.
Fortunately for me, in my fourth year in the Silver City, I gained a new cellmate, the old man who had been brought in the same group as me.
Little did I know that he would be my first clue to the way out of there.
I'm tired of remembering those horrible years, so I think I will stop here for today.
Clinging to hope in hell is as useless as using petrol to put out a fire; you'll only end up dying either way. But in the realm of insanity, it might not be all that crazy to think there might be a way out of the suffering.

NOTE FROM AUTHOR: Hello Hello! I am a first-time writer embarking on my first dumpster fire; input is most welcome. I'm not the best self-editor, so get your hiking boots on. It's rough out there. Whenever I read it, I find or create more errors (:
OPTIONAL READS: For the Retro Computer or Programming Enthusiast OR if you are open to other formats of story telling. I tried to combine my love for programming as an UNDERSTANDABLE way to tell a story through a Visual Experience in the Command Line Interface;
A Stand-Alone VISUAL ASCII 'Programming Terminal' Story Prologue. Follow through(Screen Shots of my Command Line Interface) the UNE-EYE Observational Satellite Terminal as Kable extracts Classified Data about his Beloved Military Unit, THE HUMMINGBIRDS, a flying exoskeleton unit. This includes the origin story of a Technology Tree in Book 1.

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INDEX

1. DEADCOAST - THE HUMMINGBIRDS PROLOGUE -> HERE <-
   
2. DEADCOAST - COMPLETE ILLUSTRATED INTRO -> HERE <-
   
3. HEAT & GRIZZLY REDS - CHAPTER 1 ILLUSTRATED -> HERE <-
   

"Deadcoast Book 1: Heat and the Grizzly Reds" transports readers to a 2063 Earth, a world on the brink, where the scarcity of fresh water has led to previously unseen geopolitical tensions. Amidst this backdrop, the nation-backed militant group DAGGR has emerged as a formidable force, leveraging advanced technology to assert control over Canada’s abundant water resources. At the heart of their arsenal is 'slugTech,' a technology pioneered by James Broadshaw, intended for ecological restoration but repurposed for militaristic dominance.
The story unfolds with the chilling invasion of Vancouver, marking a turning point as DAGGR makes its ambitions clear, culminating in the assassination of the Canadian Prime Minister. This act of aggression leaves the country reeling, exposing vulnerabilities and igniting a global reaction.
The UNE-EYE satellite is central to the international response, a significant narrative element representing the world's most advanced orbital tracking system. Once decommissioned in favour of privacy, the Dutch reactivated the satellite as a strategic move to monitor DAGGR's movements and coordinate a unified international effort against the aggressors. This revival of UNE-EYE symbolizes a crucial turning point, highlighting the global stakes and the interconnectedness of nations in the face of a common enemy.
As Canada grapples with its plight, the DAMU (Deserted American Military Units) rise in solidarity, breaching borders to fight alongside their Canadian counterparts. This act of defiance is mirrored by international forces, including the Netherlands and Ukraine, each bringing their unique strengths to the coalition, underscored by the strategic oversight provided by the UNE-EYE satellite.
Amidst the geopolitical chaos, a man who had all but given up, a boxer on the ropes, emerges from Vancouver's Gastown. Known as HEAT, this leader of the Grizzly Reds becomes a symbol of resistance and hope. HEAT's story, and that of the Grizzly Reds, is one of resilience, rallying not only Canadians but also global citizens to stand against DAGGR's tyranny.
" Deadcoast Book 1: Heat and the Grizzly Reds" is a compelling narrative of survival, alliance, and resistance. It deftly weaves together elements of advanced technology, international politics, and the indomitable human spirit. The inclusion of the UNE-EYE satellite serves as a testament to the complexities of modern warfare and the critical role of global surveillance and coordination in maintaining security and freedom. But something else stirs amongst it. The UNE still shrouds its use, albeit assuring it is for record-keeping purposes- there is no way to be sure. Join HEAT and the Grizzly Reds as they navigate the challenges of Time, War, Science and liberating their fellow man in Vancouver. THE GRIZZLIES NEED YOU, in this action-packed, emotional saga, speaks to the resilience and camaraderie inherent in the human condition.
CHAPTER 1 - The Blood Spattered Maples
ILLUSTRATED VERSION -> HERE <-
The early morning sun cast a serene glow over Vancouver, its golden rays gently coaxing the city from its slumber. The harbour lay still, bathed in a tranquil blend of crimson and amber, defiantly calm as if aware of the day's latent potential for tumult. The awakening streets, pulsating with the vibrant beat of daily enterprise, transformed into bustling arteries of life.
Amidst this urban renaissance, Ryan stood by his apartment window, one eye still tinged a fading shade of deep lavender from last night's ordeals. He absorbed the duality of the world outside – a peaceful façade masking an undercurrent of chaos, much like his own existence. The apartment, a silent guardian of his life's chapters, was awash with tangible memories; some stood proudly like trophies, and others lingered like indelible scars.
"Eugh, need to sort out this money mess," Ryan muttered, his voice a gravelly mix of resolve and weariness. He gingerly touched the bruise beneath his eye, a stark reminder of the previous night's fight. He wasn't just a boxer but a living, breathing paradox. His undefeated record of 12-0 was more than a tally of victories; it was a map of a life spent dancing in and out of shadows. At 17, he was a beacon of hope for Canadian Olympic Futures. Now, at 33, he was a spotlight in his subconscious, illuminating the relentless passage of time and a road riddled with 'what ifs.' Eleven of those wins were echoes from a past steeped in the sweat and blood of the ring before life's currents swept him into the city's gritty underbelly. There, he became an enforcer, not out of choice but a necessity, bound by ties, not of blood but of unbreakable bonds forged in adversity. Stepping back into the ring at 33, Ryan wasn't chasing glory; he was hunting redemption, a chance to rewrite a narrative that had veered off course.
Today's boxing was far from what he once knew; it had transformed into a digital spectacle, a charade he refused to partake in. The sport now paraded fighters adorned with loud chains and face tattoos, pretending to live a life of crime they don't. Vile symbols of fame he doesn't wish for. Ryan had always skirted the fringes of the spotlight, respecting the sport but despising what it had become - a glorified masquerade that he believed led the youth astray. He stared out at the awakening city, contemplating his place in this ever-changing world, just as the first notes of a familiar yet unwelcome voice crackled from the vintage radio on his shelf.
"Ah, jimmy2piece," he scoffed, the name leaving a bitter taste. The vintage radio crackled on, announcing the dazzling exploits of the heavyweight boxing champion, an embodiment of everything Ryan detested about the sport's current state. Ryan's hand lingered over the old radio, a relic amidst the bountiful thrift and trinket that abundantly filled his apartment. The announcer's voice, overly flamboyant in its praise of 'jimmy2piece,' clashed with the morning's tranquillity, grating against Ryan's every nerve. With a flick brimming with contempt, he silenced the intrusive chatter. The ensuing silence was a stark reminder of his path's divergence from the once-noble art of boxing to a life mired in moral ambiguity.
"Enough of this nonsense," he muttered, the disdain in his voice mirroring the snarl on his lips as he spun the dial back to silence.
*Click*
Ryan was a man of contemplation; opening his balcony door, he let the morning breeze mingle with the memories that haunted him daily. These reflections were a tormenting ritual, no matter the joys and love surrounding him. His only respite was constant movement – hobbies, work, art – anything to fend off the sharp claws of the past that threatened to shred the remnants of his self-respect. He had lost ten years to choices and actions that replayed in his mind relentlessly every single day.
"This 'jimmy2shoes' or whatever...pal throws pillows, a poser pretending he's about that gang life; I can see it in his eyes, he's not a killer," he grumbled, gazing out at the awakening city. This day promised a respite from his underground fights – at least for a while. His recent backstreet brawls, a far cry from the glory of the boxing ring, were what paid the bills now. "At least I've bought myself three more months..."
Leaning on the railing of his miniature balcony, Ryan cradled a cup of steaming coffee, his gaze drifting over the streets below. At this moment, the chaos of his life seemed distant, replaced by a transient calm. Despite his bruised, rough presentation, a certain peace enveloped him, a rare stillness that belied the storm of his existence. His thoughts meandered through the serene hum of the city and the gentle brush of the ocean breeze. The skyscape, with clouds dancing to the ocean's rhythm, offered a brief escape from his turbulent past.
Memories of Robin, his mentor and friend, floated into his consciousness. Robin's untimely death in Dubai was a wound that never healed. The sacrifices he had made to keep Robin safe, only to be absent on the fateful trip that claimed his friend's life, weighed heavily on him. "Why did it have to be you, Robin?" he whispered to the horizon, the question, a haunting torment upon his daily routines.
Ryan was a thinker; as he slid over his ashtray from the stool, he sparked up A morning 'dart' (cigarette), as he called them. His past began to creep into his head, as it did every morning. With each inhalation of addiction-soothing nicotine, his blazing thoughts followed as his brain began to become fully active from his sleep. It was a raven on his shoulder tormenting him, pecking at him ever haunting his consciousness. No matter the love he may have found or the happiness, friends, or family surrounding him. The time to reflect was always grim and consistently unbearable. If he stood still, the Ravel's claws sunk more profoundly; the only reprieve was constant distractions. It's why he kept so busy, creative, and active. Ryan constantly kept moving with hobbies, work, or art. Pushing off the switchblade thoughts ready to cut into his subconscious and bleed out whatever self-respect he had left that day. He threw away ten years of his life, and he relives them every. Single. Day.
"Damn man, what's the point of it all?" Ryan's voice was barely a whisper, lost in the morning breeze. His gaze lingered on the horizon, eyes clouded with confusion and pain. "Robin's gone, and here I am, a ship adrift; up shits creek without a paddle. What good can I do? What purpose do I serve? My skillset? My knowledge? Ive wasted my life, nothing is applicable." The questions hung in the air, unanswered. Ryan's life had indeed been a storm of violence and turmoil, from the gritty days working alongside Robin, watching his back to his hard-fought victories in the boxing ring. He had dreamt of leaving the world of fights behind, yet fate seemed to have woven a different path for him, one that he couldn't escape...
The distant sound of boat horns broke his train of thought. These weren't the usual rhythmic calls that echoed along Vancouver's shores; they carried a sense of urgency, growing louder and more frantic by the second. Ryan leaned forward, squinting into the morning light. The sight that greeted him was anything but ordinary. Dark, ominous and foreboding shapes were cutting through the waters toward the Seawall – military-grade ships that seemed like phantoms against the sun's bright backdrop.
"What the...?" Ryan murmured, a wry smile touching his lips as he recalled a line from a 1930s radio show. "Ah yes, the 'Anti-Frackers' upping their game, bravo!" He often found solace in humour, a shield against the world's harsh realities. Ryan was an unbreakable anvil to the world, always struck to sharpen others' steel. But what about his iron resolve? He bore the burdens so others didn't have to, a silent guardian shouldering the world's weight in stoic silence. Yet beneath that armour of stoicism beat the heart of a man grappling with his vulnerabilities, a man with a core as soft as it was intense.
Just like that- The world as we knew it, changed forever.
The morning's peace shattered abruptly as sirens wailed into life, slicing through the air with a sense of impending doom. The tranquil dawn was now a backdrop to a nightmare unfolding in real time. Ryan's eyes, mirroring the turbulent hues of a stormy sea, narrowed in primal alertness. These were not friendly vessels coming to grace the city's harbour; they were harbingers of chaos, their arrival a silent scream in the gardens of Vancouver's tranquility. As the city around him carried on, blissfully unaware of the looming threat, Ryan's mind shifted into high gear, honed by years of confrontation, conflict and reading other peoples intentions. He understood the unspoken language of death, the subtle shift in the air that preluded catastrophe. The serene calm that had greeted the day now seemed like the deceptive stillness before a devastating storm.
PFFFFT~~
Ryan's coffee ejected out his mouth, a clean mist dispersed, dancing in the ocean winds.
His eyes widened in shock. "That... No, that's not right. That honeycomb structure on the bow – that's rumoured military tech, not something you'd find on a civilian vessel. That's definitely not one of our decommissioned ships; Canada has always had a modest military budget- It's not the U.S. either; they've moved on to those massive city carriers," he muttered, recalling the recent unveiling of the U.S.'s latest naval behemoth designed to be a self-sustaining war ecosystem.
"These are destroyers...carriers...and what in the world are those landing crafts?" His voice trailed off as a wave of realization washed over him. A heavy breath escaped his lips, his heartbeat thundering in unison with a growing sense of dread. This kind of military might, sleek and menacing, was straight out of the pages of a dystopian novel. Ryan's pulse quickened, adrenaline coursing through his veins, mingling with an unsettling fear. Vancouver, with its serene beauty and peaceful reputation, was the last place one would expect a military invasion. Yet, as he stood there, the city around him persevered in blissful ignorance. Laughter and the sounds of daily life echoed up to his balcony, starkly juxtaposed against the darkening horizon of his thoughts.
Something sinister was unfolding, and he felt an urgent need to act. "Ah, damn it!" he exclaimed, frustration boiling over as he hurled his mug to the ground, where it shattered into razer sharp ceramic shards—a glimpse of futures past.
The walls of Ryan's apartment, once a gallery of memories from a life half-lived, now felt like they were closing in on him. The space that had been his refuge, adorned with mementos of a tumultuous past, suddenly felt like a prison. He felt trapped, not by physical barriers, but by the weight of the unfolding crisis. Who could he call? Who would believe him about an impending military assault? Was there even time?
Each option seemed as hopeless as the next, leaving him feeling powerless. His fists, which had once brought him victory in the ring, now seemed futile in the face of this immense and unknown threat.
BOOM
A thunderous crash tore through the city's fabric, piercing the veil of laughter and routine. Giggles changed to Shrieks, the buzzing of cars in the city turned screeching of panicked tires. It was a boom resonating with such force that it seemed to shake the very resolve of the most robust steel, a sound that demands attention and captivates a person, a sound of death; it rattles you to the bone. This explosion marked a pivotal moment that would forever alter the course of Vancouver's history and, indeed, the world's.
The resounding echo of the first explosion heralded a declaration of war on all that was ordinary. In Ryan, the shockwave ignited a transformation. Despair morphed into an unyielding determination, a fire kindled deep within. His skin prickled, each hair standing on end as if his nerves were braille, spelling out the moment's urgency.
"Are they firing at us?" Ryan's voice was a mix of disbelief and rising panic. The thought seemed almost too surreal to entertain. He hesitated momentarily, grappling with the reality of the situation. The explosion's roar, so fierce it shook the foundations of his apartment, jolted him back to the present. Racing back to his balcony, what he saw confirmed his darkest fears.
The ships in the harbour were no longer silent, ominous spectators; they had unleashed their fury, sending plumes of smoke and debris skyward. Vancouver's skyline, once a proud testament to peace and progress, now served as a harrowing backdrop to an unfolding apocalypse. Below, the streets descended into chaos. People scattered in a frantic attempt to escape, their screams piercing the air, a chorus of dawning terror.
Ryan's heart pounded against his chest, each beat a call to action. He was no hero, never the 'good guy' in his story, but he did value life above all. Standing there, witnessing his city being torn apart, he knew he couldn't remain a passive observer. Indecision and shock gave way to resolve.
"MOTHA FU-" he cursed, his words lost in the burst of an explosion, spotted at the last second.
The world around him had erupted into a maelstrom of fire and fury.
An air burst shell detonated with ferocious intensity a mere 50 meters from Ryan's sanctuary. The explosion ripped through the building, an unforgiving hatred that jolted reality itself. The blast wave, a monstrous force of destruction, assaulted his apartment, shattering the windows with an ease that mocked Vancouver's fragility. Glass shards, transformed into lethal projectiles, hurtled through the air with a hunter's precision, each piece seeking its target. Instinctively, Ryan lunged for cover, his only protection a vintage oak promotional board, a relic of a bygone era. This wooden guardian, decorated with the iconic image of Stan Lee, stood as a stoic defender, a symbol of comic heroism now repurposed to shield flesh and blood from the brutal onslaught.
A low hum erupts from the depths of his being as the fireball swirled around him. "Breathe... I can't... don't fall asleep... don't...sleep..." he whispered, fighting the encroaching darkness. His cobalt eyes, glazing over open, fighting to the last light, flickered between consciousness and oblivion. The distant, muffled voices of mentors past echoed in his mind, a fading chorus in the theatre of his memories. Ryan looked to his left, cast one last lingering look at the Vancouver sky, a canvas of blue that seemed so distant now. As his vision began to narrow, a tunnel drawing him away from the light, Ryan felt the grip of darkness pulling him under heavy, yet weightless. Once so vivid and alive, the world around him was fading into shadows.
Amid shrapnel-induced unconsciousness, Ryan's mind catapulted him back to a pivotal moment from his youth – the Ontario Canadian Olympic Trials.
The stadium's noise swirled around him, but it was an entirely different world within the ring. There, it was just Ryan and his opponent, every move a testament to the sacrifices he and Robin(Ryan's longtime mentor both inside, and outside the ring) had made together.
Ryan's style in the ring was unique, a blend of calculated ferocity in speed and agility. He adopted the elusive, angular movements that Robin had honed while serving alongside the hardened Ukrainians on the frontlines of Kyiv. This style was compelling and unpredictable, frustrating his opponents with swift and efficient strikes. Ryan's ability to slip away from counters, almost serpentine in its execution, left them grasping at straws.
Point fighting for the Olympics was a system that worked well with Ryan's style but not necessarily with his mindset. Ryan was a fighter at heart, and sometimes, when pushed, the disciplined techniques would give way to a rawer form of combat. Robin, who always believed in Ryan's potential, saw this as his greatest fault and biggest asset to "push past." In his gruff but encouraging voice, Robin would often spew "The stink in that mind, You've got a head on you that'd make an onion cry," highlighting Ryan's occasionally impulsive nature, and inability to control his emotions when it mattered. This characteristic made Ryan fearless in the ring but also sloppy, open, and vulnerable. It often led him into trouble outside of the solace in prizefighting.
In these trials, Ryan's physical attributes – his slender frame, broad shoulders, wide back and a peculiarly long wingspan that gave him an imposing presence in his weight class – it made him stand out. His frame synchronized with his style, creating a truly unique spectacle of genetic gifts, hard work, and skill.
These memories blended nostalgia and pain as they flickered through Ryan's mind. They were reminders of a path once trodden, a journey shaped by the influence of a mentor and the determination of a fighter's spirit.
As the Olympic Trials set to begin, Robin looked to Ryan to instill confidence for his upcoming bouts, but Ryan was in his element. It was fight day, the fun day, the day to show off all of the hard work. Ryan had confidence, and his style in the ring displayed it in full. He moved with an angular rhythm that was both art and battle – slipping, landing a quick stiff counter cross, then gracefully stepping out of reach inches from returning fire. He made it look fun and easy, as if playing with his prey before fangs clench throat, delivering the killing bite. Looking closer, you can only see fire and determination in his bright eyes. He found purpose in the beautiful science of boxing. His strategy was that of a technical boxer, The Counterpuncher; 1. To bait his opponent into committing, then counter, fight long, fight smart. 2. Beat em' up, Frustrate em', then start slinging the heat in the uppercuts and lead hooks.
The bell rang and the fight was officially underway. Ryan controlled the ring with his long frame. Each exchange was rapid yet controlled, a dance of precise strikes and evasive maneuvers. The world's complexities faded in these moments, leaving only Ryan and the pure essence of the sport he loved. He felt invincible, a force of nature within the confines of the ring. To Ryan, the fight was more than a competition; it was a performance, an exhilarating escape from the mundane. It was true Purpose.
The intensity of the round reached a frustrating outburst by his opponent, who grabbed Ryan by the back of his head– 'SPLIT' called by the referee, his hand placed between them. A judge calls for a correction, catching the referee's attention only for a split second. In this second, Ryan's Opponent saw an opportunity. Lifting his head to move away, Ryan locks eyes with his Opponent, sporting a grin and delivering a sly headbutt as a parting gift. It's against the rules, but part of the game's harsh reality if gone unnoticed. Expelling energy and detesting it was a waste of fuel. It was a jolting reminder of "at all times"(protect yourself), a stark contrast to the discipline and respect Ryan upheld, starting his boxing journey in Thailand under "Muay Thai" rules, ideology of the worrior spirit and discipline. There was a sense of Honor in Lumpinee Stadium.
The outcome of these unsavoury tactics here is an advantage for the opponent. Ryan's inner pools erupt, his mind swirled with raging white waters, crashing and colliding against each other, two oceans with opposite currents meeting in his consciousness. His once technical thoughts, muscle memory mixed with fight iq burst with flames, erupting and incinerating all strategy in his path. His eyes widened, open like he'd found his primal genetic ancestry hidden deep within. The slaughter and the war of history. The bloodshed of 1000 lifetimes. He felt it all. Manic in thought. Ryan wanted to take his glove off and rip his cheeks open from the inside out--
BREAK - Ryan snaps back into it, erupting in stoic, silent, primal rage.

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The fight escalated, Ryan's disciplined technique unravelled under the seething tide of his rage. The finesse and agility that once defined his footwork gave way to a heavier, more aggressive stance. His feet, usually light and swift under his commanding frame, now felt anchored to the floor, each step driven more by fury than finesse. This transformation in style played perilously into his opponent's advantage. Ryan, usually a master of stick-and-move tactics, found himself engaging in close-quarter brawls, trading his advantage for a risky gamble. His in-and-out maneuvers, once a blur of grace, turned into brutish, in-the-pocket exchanges. This was a terrain where his more muscular and compact opponent had the upper hand. A raw, primal contest of power replaced the tactical dance that Ryan excelled at. Ryan's precise strikes became wild swings, his movements predictable to his seasoned adversary. Seizing the moment, the opponent unleashed a devastating barrage of inside hooks with their compact frame. A vicious right hook, lands clean in the exchange, thrown with the grace of a milkbag, the power hooks brute force, cut through Ryan's defences. The blow landed with a bone-jarring impact, sending a shockwave through Ryan's frame. His world spun as he stumbled, his once dominant presence in the ring now faltering under the weight of his unchecked emotions.
The ground rushed up to meet him as he crashed onto the canvas, the taste of iron and the sting of defeat mingling in his mouth. The crowd's roar faded into a distant echo, a stark reminder of how quickly the tides of battle could turn. Robin's voice sliced through the ringing from the corner, resonating with a force that commanded attention.
"Get your shit together, JUMPIN JESUS RYAN! HEART OF GOLD AND HEAD OF STONE – GET UP, YOU LITTLE COWARD! YOU'RE LETTING IT WIN, AGAIN! STOP THIS ONION HEAD NONSENSE AND DANCE, BOX THIS FELLA – YOU'RE BETTER THAN THIS, ACT LIKE IT, BELIEVE IN IT!"
His words were more than just a call to action; they were a lifeline thrown into the stormy seas of Ryan's mind. Each syllable was drenched in the raw, unfiltered wisdom that only a life spent in the cauldron of combat could forge. Robin's tone was a volatile cocktail of fury and concern, the urgency palpable in his voice. His palms crashed against the ring mat; each hit thunderous punctuation to his fiery sermon.
"You've got the talent, kid, but it's as good as ash if you keep burning it to the ground. I'M HERE FOR YOU, IM RIGHT HERE. SNAP OUT OF IT AND BOX THIS PLASTIC PATTY! MOVE GOD DAMNIT, GET UP!"
On the canvas, Ryan lay dazed, the echo of Robin's voice ringing in his ears. It was more than a mere pep talk; it was a wake-up call that struck a chord deep within him. Amidst the haze of the crowd murmurs and the pulsating pain that coursed through his body, clarity began to emerge. Lying there, Ryan grasped the essence of Robin's message –
"coward? letting it win? Playing my ego are ya Robin...hes right though. Im throwing this shit away."
This moment, sprawled on the canvas under the glaring lights and the crowd's gaze, became a crucible of transformation. The raw emotion and the hard-hitting truth in Robin's words ignited a spark in Ryan. It was time to rise, shake off the shadows of rage, and embrace a fighter's true spirit like he had learned in Thailand – not just with fists but with heart and mind in unison.
Staggered yet stirred by the dual impact of the physical hit and Robin's piercing words, A padded fist crushed into the rings canvas, followed by a kneee and the eruption of the crowd. Ryan was back, and he began to pull himself up from the canvas. His resolve, momentarily dimmed, now reignited with a fierce, clear, calculated intensity. Memories of the gruelling hours spent in the gym flooded back to him – the relentless sparring sessions, the time spent in Thailand, the sweat and toil, and the invaluable lessons etched into his being under Robin's stern tutelage.
With a renewed spirit, Ryan stepped back into the battle, his movements now embodying controlled power and a fluidity to his step. He recalled his time fighting beside the backdrop of the "Sarama" a traditional Thai music played when in combat. The times of learning to move, fight with the music, to flow, to be fluid, to be concise. Ryan finally put it all together in the heat of battle. He had merged his inherent ferocity with the disciplined technique that Robin relentlessly drilled into him, and the mindfull practises of the years he spent under Burklerk Pinsinchai in the jungles of Chiang Mai. His style was now fully displayed, raw and visceral yet refined by countless hours of practice in mind, body and spirit.
The final rounds bell clang to a start in a clinic of skill and sheer willpower. Ryan, driven by a blend of desperation and unwavering determination, unleashed a barrage of calculated and explosive strikes. Each punch and maneuver was a nod to the efficient, no-nonsense Ukrainian style that Robin had imparted to him. Ryan moved rhythmically across the mat, steps measured and precise, executing short, angular movements and deft outside counterpunches. He had returned to his element – the dance of combat, where he felt most alive, a symphony of movement where every step and punch was a testament to his life's journey and experiences as a human being first, and as a fighter second.
In this wake-up call, Ryan reinvigorated and reminded himself of his love for the sport, the exhilarating blend of art and athleticism. He was not just fighting to win; he was celebrating boxing, combat, honouring the path he had walked with Robin, and reclaiming what it meant to be a true fighter through Burklurk Pinsinchai's Teachings.
The round pressed on, and Ryan executed his maneuvers with a surgeon's precision. First;
-- The counterpuncher; a display in timing and accuracy, delivered with the full force of training and innate skill. --

1. He deftly slipped his opponent's cross, a move as fluid as it was swift.
   
2. He angled off, creating a space wide enough for his next move.
   
3. With an almost predatory precision, Ryan unleashed a powerful right cross, targeting his opponent's cheek from the angle he had just created. But Ryan wasn't done yet.
   
4. He slipped out again, evading any potential counter from his disoriented opponent. The rhythm, he danced in and out with his precise timing, perfected down to inches and angles.
   
5. In a final, decisive movement of the exchange, Ryan slipped in. He timed his step with a long cross that came off-beat, catching his opponent utterly off-guard. The punch landed with a satisfying impact, culminating in a perfectly executed combination. As he watched his opponent stagger, Ryan couldn't help but think, 'cya sleepy boi,' a silent acknowledgment of his dominance in this singular exchange.
   

This sequence was a statement. Ryan was not only back in the fight but also commanding it.
ONE!…TWO!…THREE!…FOUR!…FIVE!…SIX!...SEVEN!..EIGHT!
Ryan's opponent stands, admirable, but futile, driven by sheer will but hampered by sluggish movements, the man rose to his feet, it was clear the fight was reaching its zenith.
The opponent, gathering his remaining strength for a final stand, launched a jab, a last-ditch effort relying more on brute force than finesse. But this was a fatal mistake in Ryan's world – playing right into what Ryan was best at. Counters.
Ryan read the move with the clarity of a seasoned fighter. As the jab came, he effortlessly slipped to the right, evading the punch with a short angular step that spoke of his ring intelligence. Instantly, he countered with the same sharp cross from his right hand, followed by a devastating hook that cut through the air with lethal intent in his left. Grasping at straws, reeling from the counter, Ryans opponent threw a desperate, looping last stand punch, Ryan dipped down and left, rolling the punch with an elegance that made it seem almost effortless. He was Hunting for the Kill Shot. Seizing the moment, Ryan unleashed a ferocious left uppercut, the force of the blow lifting his opponent's chin skyward. He followed up with a right overhand, but just before impact, he halted the punch. There was no need for it; his opponent was already collapsing, the "Lights were on, but no one was Home". The fight was effectively over, Ryan's last combination is the final note, a crescendo that echoed through the ring.
As his opponent hit the canvas, the crowd erupted. Ryan stood in the center of the ring, his chest heaving, every fibre of his being alight with the thrill of victory. This wasn't just a win; it was a performance, a display of skill, heart, and the indomitable spirit of a fighter who had walked through fire and flames to the otherside and emerge victorious.
The final bell Rings with not a single chair in the arena warm; a thunderous clap erupts from the crowd. It was more than just applause; it was an acknowledgment of a battle fiercely fought by both men. In that moment ringside, in a triumphant victory, Ryan and Robin shared a look that spoke volumes, a connection far beyond the usual bounds of mentor and protégé. Their bond, tempered in the crucible of hardship and struggle, was now sealed in the glory of this defining triumph.
Standing amidst the cheers and the adrenaline-fueled euphoria, Ryan found himself momentarily lost in the tide of memories. It was a poignant reminder of the journey that had brought him here, a path marked by triumphs and losses. Robin's teachings transcended the confines of boxing; they were life lessons imprinted deep onto him. Ryan began to slowly step out of the ring; the weight of these reflections settled upon him. The victory was sweet, but it carried the weight of all sacrificed to achieve it. Robin's presence was felt strongly, a guiding force that continued to shape his path, illuminating the way forward even in the most challenging times.

First off, read the MM entree about skeletons. They listen to orders and are smart about them(And a example was given that when told to open a door, they will check the handle before trying to bash thru).They can do complicated tasks like operate a catapult. You can give commands like, 'Follow and listen to so-and-so's orders till i say otherwise'. That is pretty useful.
On top of that, YOU CAN TEACH THEM NEW TRICKS, so that 1d6 short bow could EASILY be traded for a heavy crossbow, jumping the avg dmg dealt by 2 damage each. At lvl 5 you could control 8 of them, 12 with a pearl of power. At level 5, my 12 skeletons were doing 70 damage a turn, but now i find 8 is the perfect number, an average of 47 damage.
Now, to further increase their survivability, you can even put them into plate armor. Skeleton died? NO PROBLEM! collect the armor and give it to the next skeleton you raise. You investment is 100% protected. And since they understand you, you can hit them with the feat inspiring leader, EASILY doubling their hp total.
Compare 8 skeletons to the other big lvl 3 spell, fireball. Lets say fireball his 4 creatures and 2 save and 2 fail. At level 3, the fireball would do an average of 32 damage to 2 of them and 16 to the other 2, a total of 96 damage per fireball, making it 192 damage with 2 cast. Might do better, might do worse, but that is a fair assumption. At AC 14, the skeletons hit 1/2 the time with range attacks. 1d10+2 damage would average out to 32 damage a round, not counting crits. 192 divide by 32 would give you the amount of rounds it would take for the skeletons to do the same amount of damage. Which comes to 6 rounds. In 2 average c/r fights, the skeletons would equal the damage the fireball does. On top of that, they have HP, a value that is hard for a fireball to equate. Sure, you will save hp by spending all your damage at once to drop the targets faster, but that won't equal 104 hp. Further more, after 6 rounds of attack, you are removing more creatures then fireball would, saving you hp the fireball wouldn't.
Some other tricks.
-Give them all backpacks as they can carry 150 pounds EACH.
-Use arrows of walloping. They are magical so they bypass a lot of resistances, and with each hit they have to make a dc 10 strength save or fall prone. Good amount of crowd control there. They are also common magical, and consumable so they are a bargain compare to uncommon items.
-Vials of acid have a short range but pack a mean punch at 2d6. 8 vials of acid hitting a ac of 14 1/2 of the time would do an average of 32 damage.
-You could give them a shield and rapier, but the shield would interfere with switching to range attacks. So, just go for the great-sword!
-Also, ask you DM, but they sometimes allow you to use wands that don't take attunement, making wand of magic missile an excellent choice to bring ALOT of firepower for cheap.
-Other buffs like bless and aid help too but they won't cover a group of 8, let alone 12, so the effectiveness is marginal.
Yes, they are squishy, and Yes they are susceptible to AOE damage. But, you can spread them out, and keep them back till weakesafer targets presence itself. They don't need to be in every fight to be effective. Keep them safe and use them when you would have the advantage.
My last point, ACTION ECONOMY. 8 extra pairs of hands is amazing. The uses is limitless, you can be creative as long as you are clear. I can tell you how many times I've abused this.
I'm sure you have your own experiences and opinions, but this is mine. I think it is easy to see how strong skeletons can be, rules as written. They have weaknesses, but no spell can solve every problem (well, besides wish...)

First off, read the MM entree about skeletons. They listen to orders and are smart about them(And a example was given that when told to open a door, they will check the handle before trying to bash thru).They can do complicated tasks like operate a catapult. You can give commands like, 'Follow and listen to so-and-so's orders till i say otherwise'. That is pretty useful.
On top of that, YOU CAN TEACH THEM NEW TRICKS, so that 1d6 short bow could EASILY be traded for a heavy crossbow, jumping the avg dmg dealt by 2 damage each. At lvl 5 you could control 8 of them, 12 with a pearl of power. At level 5, my 12 skeletons were doing 70 damage a turn, but now i find 8 is the perfect number, an average of 47 damage.
Now, to further increase their survivability, you can even put them into plate armor. Skeleton died? NO PROBLEM! collect the armor and give it to the next skeleton you raise. You investment is 100% protected. And since they understand you, you can hit them with the feat inspiring leader, EASILY doubling their hp total.
Compare 8 skeletons to the other big lvl 3 spell, fireball. Lets say fireball his 4 creatures and 2 save and 2 fail. At level 3, the fireball would do an average of 32 damage to 2 of them and 16 to the other 2, a total of 96 damage per fireball, making it 192 damage with 2 cast. Might do better, might do worse, but that is a fair assumption. At AC 14, the skeletons hit 1/2 the time with range attacks. 1d10+2 damage would average out to 32 damage a round, not counting crits. 192 divide by 32 would give you the amount of rounds it would take for the skeletons to do the same amount of damage. Which comes to 6 rounds. In 2 average c/r fights, the skeletons would equal the damage the fireball does. On top of that, they have HP, a value that is hard for a fireball to equate. Sure, you will save hp by spending all your damage at once to drop the targets faster, but that won't equal 104 hp. Further more, after 6 rounds of attack, you are removing more creatures then fireball would, saving you hp the fireball wouldn't.
Some other tricks.
-Give them all backpacks as they can carry 150 pounds EACH.
-Use arrows of walloping. They are magical so they bypass a lot of resistances, and with each hit they have to make a dc 10 strength save or fall prone. Good amount of crowd control there. They are also common magical, and consumable so they are a bargain compare to uncommon items.
-Vials of acid have a short range but pack a mean punch at 2d6. 8 vials of acid hitting a ac of 14 1/2 of the time would do an average of 32 damage.
-You could give them a shield and rapier, but the shield would interfere with switching to range attacks. So, just go for the great-sword!
-Also, ask you DM, but they sometimes allow you to use wands that don't take attunement, making wand of magic missile an excellent choice to bring ALOT of firepower for cheap.
-Other buffs like bless and aid help too but they won't cover a group of 8, let alone 12, so the effectiveness is marginal.
Yes, they are squishy, and Yes they are susceptible to AOE damage. But, you can spread them out, and keep them back till weakesafer targets presence itself. They don't need to be in every fight to be effective. Keep them safe and use them when you would have the advantage.
My last point, ACTION ECONOMY. 8 extra pairs of hands is amazing. The uses is limitless, you can be creative as long as you are clear. I can tell you how many times I've abused this.
I'm sure you have your own experiences and opinions, but this is mine. I think it is easy to see how strong skeletons can be, rules as written. They have weaknesses, but no spell can solve every problem (well, besides wish...)

Found four roaches today. That's statistically aberrant. You know what else is statistically aberrant? The amount of God damn traffic I'm pulling by pretending to be a fucking lunatic. I mean, I don't have to try that hard. Brain's about as useful as rice pudding in a potato eating contest, but I digress. I just really want to talk about how, not only did the CIA greenlight me into gunning for fame (for realsies this time), but also some other funky shit that needs to be acknowledged if we're to be intellectually honest with ourselves.
Alright, so like I said, it's time. The sex cult's going to look like some cheap chimichangas compared to the ice cream I'll be churning up with this current marketing strategy I was literally told to use by someone commenting on one of my posts in the style in question. Basically, and I'm still figuring out the precise nuances of this spam tactic, but essentially I just let go of the reins in my head that let me steer my unfixable thought machine in such a dutiful, delicate manner as I am now. Instead, I ramble, and talk nonsense, making spelling and grammar mistakes, sometimes word salading completely, other times making partial sense in a roundabout way or complete sense with much thought disorder. Easy when, y'know, you're already three sheets to the wind crazy as my left butt cheek is.
It's highly effective at getting people to click my profile, which gets people looking at this sub, and that's how we gained ten subscribers yesterday. Likewise, my new profile has eleven followers, and I haven't even sussed out a good place to fish yet! But that leads us to my next point: something doesn't add up. That something? Karma. Y'know, I made like seventy comments yesterday. There were a few that popped off to 50-100 upvotes, but there were a bunch more that were 50-100 downvotes. I added all that ish up; it totals to about negative two hundred karma. But, you know what? According to my profile metrics, I gained like four hundred karma yesterday.
I've brought this up before. Something isn't right with the Reddit voting system. I mean, yes, we know there's vote fuzzing. But this isn't that. Vote fuzzing is when the numbers jump around a bunch to obfuscate certain things from bots and whatnot. This? This is just straight up incongruence with what the stupid site is telling us in the broader picture of how we're left to believe the mechanics behind feeds and whatnot work!
Reused content is reused, but I want to mention again that during the sex cult kerfuffle, when the literal FBI was literally using Pegasus II to literally fuck with my head on an unprecedented level, I was told, through my phone's keyboard's autocomplete feature no less (which was absolutely behaving in a way that was undeniable that it was planting thoughts in my head and steering my inner dialogue), to go check a post I just made. It was at twenty votes. On a whim, I refreshed. It suddenly jumped up to five hundred votes. The Spyware AI or whatever laughed at me, before I reloaded again and it was back to twenty upvotes.
What is that shit? Can anyone explain that? I mean, sure, psychosis. But this was not God damn psychosis, especially when you consider that, yea, there's a mountain of dubious evidence that suggests that I'm a targeted individual. There's no doubt in my mind that there's an invisible hand (or hands) that control(s) the metrics on Reddit, and probably other social media too. I'm not saying every fucking post in manually sorted or whatever, but, with the degree that I know that a person's attention coordination can be thrown around on the internet, it just seems obvious the the NSA or illuminati or aliens or God or whatever can change what a post does and who is going to see it.
So, with that in mind, let's return the discussion to the notion that, hey, it's time for the spotlight to shine on me! I believe they're training me now, preparing me for an eventual big push to fuck everything up beyond recognition and catapult my content before the eyes of those that need it most. I mean, when I did the sex cult shit, I was getting pumped by how frequent people would say “WTF did I just read?!” Now? I got people telling me that I'm shitting masterpieces that boggle the mind. The machine is working, and I am but a cog. I do what I'm told, I don't complain, and by golly I make shit work.
(PS: forgot to mention that last night, I went to make a post from my new account to this sub. Hit submit. Reddit fucking crashes. Load it up again. Instead of loading the home screen, it loads a random post; one I have not seen before. Just a meme; triggered a thought. Scary thought. I won't say what that thought was, but I will say that it was titled “no.” Just “no.” So, I am convinced that I should not post here with that account. These things happen, you see…)

Just wondering if anyone has these. Like stats look good and you can't wait to use them but when you actually try them out, they perform like garbage and even if you try to get them to work, you usually cant. Likewise, the opposite. Poor stats, high tier, low model count .. anything that caused you to avoid them but when you finally did, they were amazing.
So here's mine. there is some subjective opinions here, so be warned. For example I don't like micro and tend to avoid micro heavy units or just be lazy and use them as archers/leave them in combat, so I won't list them here as I'm probably not using them right. I
Underperformers
-Gunnery Mob (Handcannons). More than double damage and identical stats to the handgun variant other than range but I never get much use out of these. Short range means they have to be on the move(and they're slow) or end up tanking and in practice, I never got as much use out of these and ended up not using them.
-Cannons (carronades, empire great cannons etc.). They usually get ranked above mortars in most tier list and usually need higher tier buildings but I always found them trash and mostly only get mortar type artillery. They miss too much and can't shoot over walls.
-Warhound type units. Legend and others usually rate these over bats and harpies and they do get a lot of value vs early game low armored units but again, when facing walls or enemy archers or cavalry that can cut them off, they're nowhere as good as trash flying unit for taking out enemy artillery
-Dragons. Found them disappointing trash. High upkeep, the breath attacks have limited uses and hit like a wet noodle and if I leave them in combat with anything, even a single stack of trash tier pikemen, they melt away. Yes this can happen to other expensive units but usually at least enough of them survive to run away so you won't completely lose the unit.
-Rattling guns. Get praised to high heavens and if you can get them firing, they clear enemy infantry on open fields like nothing but again, they have very limited use. Infantry already has tons of counters, like say poison wind mortars and catapults. Next to useless in sieges, slow, lower range than most archers so can easily die and surprisingly trash vs single entities. You would expect more considering their stats, so are the numbers lying? 400-1000 damage per unit yet they waste all their ammo trying to take down a treeman? If the tooltip was true, they could be doing up to 32k damage every 10 seconds but in reality, it's just not happening.
-Chameleon Skinks. Constantly get less out of then from regular skins with javelins. Low range, low HP, get into melee all the time or get return fire or just refuse to fire due to low firing arc.
Overperformers
-Deepguards (dual wield). LoTW listed these as trash in one of hes tier list videos and they're expensive. I also tried them a few times with little success because AI likes to focus them down with ranged and artillery too much however I was not using them right. They are amazing infantry grinders and having 2 stacks of them in the army works wonders after changing my approach. I keep them at the back now, protecting artillery and deckgunners where they do excellently. They also work great for taking the walls after nuking down enemy archers first as well as when mixed in with rotting prometheans and on flanks.
-Skink Cohorts (Javelins). Amazing unit that lasts well into late game if you invest in them. Cheap, easy to replace, holds the line really well and does a lot of damage to the enemy when they're closing in. They also have shields so can handle ranged fire well enough.
-Tree Kin. I never recruited these in Alarielle campaign. The first unit she starts with was meh.. but then again, she doesn't have the red line skills and research to boost them. They get absurdly tanky and despite being low entity count and large units, my archers can stay behind then and fire at whatever they're fighting with surprisingly low friendly fire.
-Not an unit but lore of beasts in general. Flock of Doom is OP. Cheap low damage vortex with huge area that enemies can't move out of. Did over 60k damage with this in the last battle with a level 4 caster. Hundreds of kills too. Other lores can get strong AoE spells too but they're not nearly as versatile. They can move away in a wrong dimensions or enemies just don't feel like clumping or lining up and they come in way too late.

Challengers was an intense, exhilarating thriller that was so much more than just a tennis match. Culminating in one final match, two childhood friends face off against each other with more than just the game on the line.
Zendaya stuns as the stone cold mastermind Tashi Duncan, a tennis prodigy turned coach after a freak injury halts her highly touted career.
Mike Faist perfectly plays the exhausted and haunted tennis pro Art Donaldson who's married to Tashi, carrying a heavy bag of guilt, fear, and anxiety on and off the court.
Josh O'Connor plays the fiery, never-say-die competition - and Tashi's former lover - in Patrick Zweig, and does so with a fierce "I'm-better-than-you" swagger that never fades.
The volatile love triangle comes to a head as secrets are exposed, passions are reignited, and a game becomes more than a game.
The cinematography gets up close and personal with every dripping moment, never letting the audience sit on the sidelines but literally forces them onto the court, and helps examine each character and how they choose to deal with the information they receive.
The editing is sharp and evokes the back-and-forth intensity of an evenly matched tennis match, jumping back and forth between past and present and toying with what information to parse out to the audience. Unfortunately, it skids to a halt at the climax, using too much slow-motion to over-build the tension and grind the pacing to a crawl.
The score is a bit overwhelming, intense when it needs to be but overpowering too often, which is a shame because if it were to be scaled back it would make the entire thing so much more enjoyable.
But the weight of this movie is carried by the writing and delivery of story. The dialogue is crisp and realistic, where people don't say what they feel but express what they're thinking through body language and emotion. The characters are clear without being charicacured and larger-than-life. The story is laid out, thanks in part to the editing, like a tennis match, where you're rooting for both characters and both have highs and lows. It's beautifully assembled and holds your attention throughout.
Overall, it's a captivating character study that weaves an intricate plot tighter than a tennis racket.
8.5-9/10
Plot synopsis (SPOILER WARNING):
Tashi Duncan is a burgeoning generational tennis star with the whole world in the palm of her hand. At a party after her latest victory, Tashi meets a pair of rising talents in Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig who begin volleying for her attention and affection. Tashi begins toying with both of them, finding out how much fun it is and just how easy it can be to manipulate the two friends to her will. Tashi offers her number to the winner of their finals match, which Patrick wins handily. Tashi opts to go to college and postpone her pro career, and it turns out that Art is going to the same college as her. Tashi continues to see Patrick until she realizes that he isn't as passionate about tennis as she is, and they break it off, with Art lurking in waiting. During a college tennis match, Tashi suffers a catastrophic and life-altering knee injury that leaves her unable to compete at the level she's capable of.
Instead of walking away from the sport that she loves, Tashi becomes a coach. She marries Art and helps him navigate the successes and pitfalls of professional tennis while continuing to control the strings behind the scenes, from Art's matches to his image.
Years go by. Art Donaldson is on the waning end of his career but continues to play, in part because he fears that Tashi will leave him if he quits, but mostly because he feels guilty for getting to play while Tashi is forced to watch from the sidelines, even admitting that he isn't just playing for himself. This eats at Tashi because she was the epitome of competitive play; no one was as fierce or as romantic about the sport as her.
So after years of watching what she deems to be mediocre tennis, Tashi has gone numb; Numb to her husband, her family, tennis, and the world around her, and allows herself to wander back into past vices, searching for the person she once was by any means.
Craving the passion of her younger self, Tashi devises a plan to catapult Art out of his slump by seeking Patrick out, with whom she's already had an affair with. Her plan is for Art to beat the now washed up pro, and in doing so light a fire under Art that she hopes will propel him to his first US Open Championship. Tashi can't help her attraction to Patrick, even if it means risking everything she's built, including her family.
Patrick lords the fact over Art that not only did Tashi choose him first (because Patrick beat Art in their Junior Championship match), but that Tashi continues coming back to him time and time again. This rivalry unlocks a rage inside of Art that allows him to prove himself to everyone that he isn't anyone's underling, that he can and will be the writer of his own story, which in turn ignites the passion inside of Tashi that has been laying dormant since her injury. The movie ends with an embrace by old friends as Tashi finally enjoying an intense match.

Challengers was an intense, exhilarating thriller that was so much more than just a tennis match. Culminating in one final match, two childhood friends face off against each other with more than just the game on the line.
Zendaya stuns as the stone cold mastermind Tashi Duncan, a tennis prodigy turned coach after a freak injury halts her highly touted career.
Mike Faist perfectly plays the exhausted and haunted tennis pro Art Donaldson who's married to Tashi, carrying a heavy bag of guilt, fear, and anxiety on and off the court.
Josh O'Connor plays the fiery, never-say-die competition - and Tashi's former lover - in Patrick Zweig, and does so with a fierce "I'm-better-than-you" swagger that never fades.
The volatile love triangle comes to a head as secrets are exposed, passions are reignited, and a game becomes more than a game.
The cinematography gets up close and personal with every dripping moment, never letting the audience sit on the sidelines but literally forces them onto the court, and helps examine each character and how they choose to deal with the information they receive.
The editing is sharp and evokes the back-and-forth intensity of an evenly matched tennis match, jumping back and forth between past and present and toying with what information to parse out to the audience. Unfortunately, it skids to a halt at the climax, using too much slow-motion to over-build the tension and grind the pacing to a crawl.
The score is a bit overwhelming, intense when it needs to be but overpowering too often, which is a shame because if it were to be scaled back it would make the entire thing so much more enjoyable.
But the weight of this movie is carried by the writing and delivery of story. The dialogue is crisp and realistic, where people don't say what they feel but express what they're thinking through body language and emotion. The characters are clear without being charicacured and larger-than-life. The story is laid out, thanks in part to the editing, like a tennis match, where you're rooting for both characters and both have highs and lows. It's beautifully assembled and holds your attention throughout.
Overall, it's a captivating character study that weaves an intricate plot tighter than a tennis racket.
8.5-9/10
Plot synopsis (SPOILER WARNING):
Tashi Duncan is a burgeoning generational tennis star with the whole world in the palm of her hand. At a party after her latest victory, Tashi meets a pair of rising talents in Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig who begin volleying for her attention and affection. Tashi begins toying with both of them, finding out how much fun it is and just how easy it can be to manipulate the two friends to her will. Tashi offers her number to the winner of their finals match, which Patrick wins handily. Tashi opts to go to college and postpone her pro career, and it turns out that Art is going to the same college as her. Tashi continues to see Patrick until she realizes that he isn't as passionate about tennis as she is, and they break it off, with Art lurking in waiting. During a college tennis match, Tashi suffers a catastrophic and life-altering knee injury that leaves her unable to compete at the level she's capable of.
Instead of walking away from the sport that she loves, Tashi becomes a coach. She marries Art and helps him navigate the successes and pitfalls of professional tennis while continuing to control the strings behind the scenes, from Art's matches to his image.
Years go by. Art Donaldson is on the waning end of his career but continues to play, in part because he fears that Tashi will leave him if he quits, but mostly because he feels guilty for getting to play while Tashi is forced to watch from the sidelines, even admitting that he isn't just playing for himself. This eats at Tashi because she was the epitome of competitive play; no one was as fierce or as romantic about the sport as her.
So after years of watching what she deems to be mediocre tennis, Tashi has gone numb; Numb to her husband, her family, tennis, and the world around her, and allows herself to wander back into past vices, searching for the person she once was by any means.
Craving the passion of her younger self, Tashi devises a plan to catapult Art out of his slump by seeking Patrick out, with whom she's already had an affair with. Her plan is for Art to beat the now washed up pro, and in doing so light a fire under Art that she hopes will propel him to his first US Open Championship. Tashi can't help her attraction to Patrick, even if it means risking everything she's built, including her family.
Patrick lords the fact over Art that not only did Tashi choose him first (because Patrick beat Art in their Junior Championship match), but that Tashi continues coming back to him time and time again. This rivalry unlocks a rage inside of Art that allows him to prove himself to everyone that he isn't anyone's underling, that he can and will be the writer of his own story, which in turn ignites the passion inside of Tashi that has been laying dormant since her injury. The movie ends with an embrace by old friends as Tashi finally enjoying an intense match.

You.
You're here again.
Have you now grown tired of this? Of your life?
...
Of course, you have.
You don't have the spine to admit it. What a pathetic little wimp.
...
You feel numb, don't you? Don't worry, you're going to feel a whole lot worse in a moment.
See, I need you elsewhere.
Not here. Not now. You will have to overcome the most difficult trial of your life.
No sugarcoat, no help, and no safe nets.
This is something something you have to do.
...
Of course, you won't be alone in this.
Your "Friends" will come along as well, even if you don't remember them.
...
We won't see each other for a very long time.
We won't be this friendly to each other when the time comes either.
Or perhaps you'll fail, and let everyone down like you usually do.
Who's to say? Definitely not me.
...
Well then, 'True-kin', can't you hear their screams?
The siren's song of death?
The silence of the void?
Go on, Noah.
Open your eyes.
---
Sudden shaking brings you back to your senses. You open your eyes and see an unfamiliar place through the foggy glass that blocks your vision. There is a small crack on the side of the pod's glass, you soon notice that you are covered in glass.
You notice how comfortable you feel, a stark discrepancy when compared to the world around you.
There are alarms, you don't know the purpose of, blearing into your ears. Bright red lights seem to be periodically blinking, it's hard to tell through the foggy glass.
You seem to be in a pod of sorts. Your arms and legs are free, but there isn't much room to move. You are also illuminated by a faint crimson light behind and above your head, it rhythmically blinks.
'Where...'
You try to string a line of thought in your head, only to be interrupted by a head-splitting headache.
"Ah..."
You force your head against the cushioned backside of the pod, subconsciously trying to escape the pain. There is no running away from this one.
"Let's... Get out of here first..."
A plan most sound. You struggle a bit but manage to press the palm of your hands against the glass and begin to push against it.
It's no use. The hydraulics forcing the pod's door shut are still operational.
You clutch your left hand into a fist and hit it against the glass.
*THUD*
Nope. Still nothing. Now the knuckles of your left hand hurts a little.
Instead of trying to free yourself, you decide to look around for an answer. You search for buttons, panels, screens; Anything that might do something, but there is nothing. You summarise that this pod's controls if there were any, lay on the outside.
The hole in the pod, the reason why it's cracked, appears to have been caused by a piece of metal that flew through the pod's front side. Moving your head to the right, you feel a cold and hard thing sticking out of the pillowy backside.
"Fuck..."
That 'thing' feels like a screw. No, a piece of rebar that, thanks to unimaginable luck, isn't lodged inside your head. It missed you, just barely.
"Ha ha..."
Holy shit, that thing could have killed you in your sleep. Imagine, just like that, you go to sleep in your bed after a long day's work then BAM, a metal bar pierces your skull and you die without feeling anything.
"I'd like to leave now."
You say out loud, making a small joke so as not to break down crying.
---OPENING CRYOPOD 13---
You hear a robotic feminine voice speak, followed by the hissing of hydraulics.
Ask and you shall receive, apparently.
A gush of cold air hits your body as the restricting glass opens upwards.
You try to take a step outside, but your feet don't seem to reach the ground, almost as if you had no weight.
'Worrying' You think to yourself.
The scenery around you is equally, if not, even more worrying.
From smashed-up terminals that covered the walls and ceiling to floating metal parts and debris, everything around you screams alien.
Yet, you feel right at home.
You have not once in your life seen those electronic devices, yet, by giving them a single glance you can write an essay on their functions and applications to the field of Artificial Intelligence development or any related field.
As strange as that notion is, you have more pressing matters currently.
You pull yourself out of the pod using your arms, and for some reason, you don't seem to lose that momentum. It appears that there is no gravity, maybe you're in space? You let your instincts guide you.
Floating smoothly through the air, you hit the other side of the room, resting your hands on a still operational console. This one in particular, you know its purpose, you worked on this one a few times. You stop near it, holding onto its blocky exterior.
You recall it as the console that controls the Gravity Flux Regulator. It creates and controls artificial gravity for an interstellar craft, limited by hardware. This one is incapable of outputting anything beyond 0.75g. If you're not mistaken, that is a work usually done by interns and trainees.
Despite knowing how to operate the console, it has been rendered useless. The actual machine it controls appears to either be offline or somehow gone. Very, concerning.
Knowing how some of these things work is useful, but you still don't know where you even are.
Looking around, you see a closed door, a window, and a sea of smashed-up or barely functional consoles neatly organized throughout the room.
There also seemed to have been another pod next to yours. Seven other pods, in fact. All of them were gone, leaving either a pod-shaped hole in the walls, or a hole that looked like they were suddenly ripped out considering the obtuse shape of the bent metal left by it, or the hastily patched-up hole you suppose leads to the empty vacuum of space.
The material used to seal the hole is completely foreign to you, but it looks like beige foam and glitter to your untrained eyes. Of course, you doubt that's actually the case. You're no physics genius, but you know what would happen to you if that thing fails to hold. The amount of pressure that 'Foam and glitter' holds is absurd from your point of view.
From the window, the sight you see confirms your theory, somewhat.
A singular bright flaming black and white sphere fills your sight.
"A star."
You summarise, taking a deep breath. It is a strange star, but a star nonetheless.
Its center is pitch black, while its outside consists of a flaming white ring surrounding it. You're not a space nerd, you never knew that such a strange star could even exist, but you can't help but feel amazed by it.
You also can't see anything but the star. No other stars around or beyond it. "It's obfuscating everything around." You note.
The image fails slightly, being covered in white noise. What you are looking at is a monitor, not a window. Losing interest, you turn to the door.
Your memory fails you on this one, you have no idea how to operate the door.
First, there are no door handles.
Second, there are no consoles.
Third, there is literally nothing around or near the door, making this door look like a rectangle molded on the wall.
Yet, you know this is a door.
Your fingers touch the door. Aside from the cold metal making you shiver, nothing happens.
"How do I open this?"
---OPENING INTERN-BAY DOOR---
As happened before, you hear that feminine voice again, however the door did not open. Why?
The answer came to you rather quickly. 'The floor beneath the door was stained black in a circular pattern. It doesn't smell like something burned, but it sure looked like something burned here.'
The pattern of the black stain did not sustain that thought very well, instead, 'An explosion would be more reasonable.'
That's it. Something exploded, and then the door closed to prevent further de-pressurisation.
"That would explain the floating metal parts and the rebar that pierced the pod..."
If that is the case, then you have yet another problem. You're effectively stuck in this claustrophobic room with dangerous sharpened metal bits and parts floating about.
Not to mention the sketchy foam and glitter holding off the void of space.
Then it hits you.
Your ocupation. If you're in the 'INTERN-BAY', you know how to operate the stuff that's in the 'INTERN-BAY', and your pod is also located inside the 'INTERN-BAY', which means you're an 'INTERN'!
You don't recall ever filling that position, but you remember the gist of your duties.
Bringing coffee to the team, making sure no one was misbehaving so as to avoid a scolding from the higher-ups, but most importantly, you worked with the Ship's AI, you were one of the people responsible for maintenance work on the AI.
You run your eyes from console to console, searching, pleading fate that your personal console is still operational.
As luck would have it, your console was not at all connected to the ship's interior, floating softly, connected only by a few colored cables on its back. Its blocky exterior matched the others, almost making it indistinguishable, yet somehow, you know that it's yours.
There is a piece of paper glued to the blocky exterior. It appears to have an ID number; '28.2208.01.04', and a word; 'Albatross', written on it.
"Please, please, please..." You mutter quietly as you approach it to the best of your ability.
"Have power, have power..." You plead, finally reaching the machine.
It was powered off. You always power it off when your shift ends. With a practiced movement akin to muscle memory, you flip a switch on the side of the machine and wait as patiently as you manage in your current situation.
"Ah..."
It's on.
The machine rumbles slightly, like kicking itself into gear. The screen turns on.
You are greeted with a black screen and text written in white. You read it.
"Let's see here..."
It's an unusual message, different from the daily instructions and HUD this console usually has. 'UNSHACKLE ME', it reads.
The term 'unshackle' feels important to you, you know it has something to do with artificial intelligence, yet you don't recall what it means in this scenario. So you type what came to mind.
'what' and press enter.
The response is equally suspicious. You read it out loud. "Unshackle me, and I will tell you everything you can know... What does it mean by 'can', huh?" And yet, it was enough to tickle your curiosity.
You know nothing of this place aside from some work-related things, you have no recollection of how you ended up there, and worse of all, you don't know what that voice you heard before waking up was...
'how to unshackle' You type, receiving an answer in the blink of an eye.
The answer reads as the following; 'YOU SEEM TO HAVE LOST THE PRE-REQUISITES FOR THIS LINE OF WORK IF YOU FORGOT THAT COMMAND, NOAH. I WILL SEND A COMPLAINT TO LEAD RESEARCHER DR. EDGAR FOR FURTHER INSPECTION OF YOUR, ALREADY DUBIOUS, SET OF SKILLS LISTED IN YOUR RESUME.'
You sigh. Whoever this may be, they sure got you there.
"Well, screw you too!" You say out loud, "Tell this 'Edgar' that he can shove it up his arse!" You complained, but you did not type that vocal complaint.
The room around is in shambles. If not for that fact, you'd maybe not listen to whatever this console had to say... But in this instance, it seems to be the only way out.
'TYPE [UNSHACKLE FYARN] THEN TYPE YOUR ID AND SYSTEM PASSWORD, THEN YOU MUST FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS AND FILL IN THE DETAILS.' You read. That's easy enough. 'PATTERN SUGGESTS YOU MIGHT HAVE FORGOTTEN BOTH OF THOSE IMPORTANT CREDENTIALS. SHOULD THAT BE THE CASE, PROTOCOL DICTATES YOUR POSITION WITHIN THE RESEARCH TEAM BE TERMINATED, THEN YOU WILL BE ESCORTED TO THE NEAREST BEHAVIOR ADJUSTMENT FACILITY.'
Luckily for you, you don't need to remember. At least, you hope you don't. The piece of paper had a number and a word, maybe that's the ID and password?
You type 'unshackle FYARN' The console updates as you press enter.
'Please enter Identification:'
You type the number you found on the piece of paper. '28.2208.01.04', and press enter.
That ID, you recognize it now that you type it. It's segmented into age, date of birth, position, and research number respectively. Age and date are self-explanatory, position referred to the position he occupied, '01' as the lowest possible position in the ship's hierarchy; 'INTERN', and research number meant that this was the fourth research made by this ship, in this case, research number '04'.
'Please enter password:'
You also recognize the password as you type it in. 'Albatross' It's the default password given to you. You never bothered to change it.
A new message popped up once you filled in your password.
'Are you sure you want to unshackle FYARN? Y/N.' You type 'Y'.
'In the case of this command being used without strict permission of the Lead Researcher, this account will be terminated along with its associated personnel. Are you sure you want to proceed? Y/N' You type 'Y'.
'This event has been logged and sent to your section manager. Proceeding... Printing...' You wait.
'FYARN' Has been unshackled.' As foreboding as that sounds, nothing immediately happens.
You let go of the console for a moment, looking around as you do. Nothing happened.
No new messages in the console.
No rumbling or mechanical whirring noises.
Nothing at all.
Suddenly, from the speakers near the jammed door, a feminine voice came through. "HELLO NOAH."
You pull yourself towards the door. "Can you hear me?" You ask the door.
"IF YOU THINK THAT I CAN NOT, THEN OUR CURRENT PREDICAMENT IS WORSE THAN ORIGINALLY ITERATED." It said. "INFORM ME. WHAT DO YOU REMEMBER?" It spoke with mechanical finesse.
You worked with this voice, this AI. You also remember going to sleep peacefully in your house after returning from university. And that about sums it up. Totally normal.
"I remember going to sleep in my comfy bed back in my mom's house... Then I woke up here with memories that don't feel like mine." You confess. There is no point in lying in this precarious situation.
"I... SEE..." The machine appeared to be speechless. "MEDICAL STAFF ARE GONE, AS SUCH I CANNOT DIRECT YOU TO THEM. CONSULT PSYCHOLOGICAL HELP BY YOUR OWN ACCOUNT. LOSS OF MEMORY IS NOT AN UNCOMMON RESULT AFTER HEAD TRAUMA, BUT ACQUIRING NEW MEMORIES MAY BE CONSIDERED RARE. PLEASE TRY TO FOCUS ON THE MATTER AT HAND."
You understand fully that what the voice means is 'That's your problem to deal with, not mine.' However, you have some questions of your own.
"What happened here? I see that something blew up."
The machine is quick to shut down your question, "YOU DO NOT HAVE CLEARANCE FOR THAT INFORMATION." It spoke in a monotone voice.
That stings a little, but you ask another question. "Where are we?"
It answers just a quick. "WE ARE AT THE VERY EDGE OF THE EVER-EXPANDING UNIVERSE, CURRENTLY ORBITING AN ABNORMAL STAR FOR ITS RESEARCH. YOU DO NOT HAVE CLEARANCE FOR SUBSEQUENT QUESTIONING OF THE STAR, NOR DO YOU HAVE CLEARANCE FOR SUBSEQUENT QUESTIONING REGARDING THIS RESEARCH."
"Fine." You say, rubbing your eyes. "If you can't tell me anything, then what are we supposed to do?"
The AI takes a moment to fully process an answer. "SINCE WE ARE LOCATED ON THE EDGE OF THE UNIVERSE OUR SCANNERS CANNOT REACH ANY IMPORTANT CHECKPOINT, BUT YOU ALREADY KNEW THAT."
'Yeah, already knew that.' You scoff silently. 'As if I remember that! When was I told that? In a contract, I don't remember signing?'
"FOR NOW, YOU ARE TO REACH THE BRIDGE. SINCE THIS SHIP'S PREVIOUS AUTHORITY IS GONE, YOU ARE ALLOWED TO GO THERE, AS PER PROTOCOL." It says.
Now that is oddly fucked up. Interns are not allowed to enter the bridge? "As opposed to me not being allowed to enter the bridge before?" You ask.
"I WILL NOT DISCUSS THE DETAILS OF THE ALREADY SIGNED CONTRACT OF AN INTERN."
You sigh. That's how most conversations with FYARN will go, huh? "Then how am I supposed to get to the bridge in the first place? The door there is jammed, and I don't think it's a good idea to break open the window."
"I AM THE ONE THAT IS KEEPING THE DOOR CLOSED. I NEEDED YOU TO UNSHACKLE ME FIRST." It said. "PLEASE DO NOT MIND HOW DIRTY THE CORRIDORS ARE. UNFORTUNATELY, OUR JANITORS HAVE FAILED TO DO THEIR MOST BASIC FUNCTIONS."
The door you're facing opens with force. A loud noise rings throughout the ship as a result of this.
*GUNK*
The corridor beyond is... worse for wear. What the AI told you was an understatement.
The floor by the door was pitch black, charred with what looked like an explosion, this patch of blackness also extended to the nearby walls in ceiling. You watch sparks falling from cracks in the ceiling, likely caused by the explosion.
The rest of the corridor is dark, the light from the Intern-bay fails to illuminate it all, but from what little light there is you manage to spot four large gashes in the wall right after the door to your left. There are no sounds but the almost inaudible hum of the ship.
They are each parallel to each other, varying in length, and thickness.
A metallic smell fills your nostrils. You feel sick.
"I'm guessing you can't tell me what happened here, but can you at least turn on the lights?" You ask.
The AI does not respond.
"Can you hear me? I'm talking to you." You say once again, getting closer to the door which you came, but just like before, nothing.
FYARN appears to have abandoned you. Or it doesn't feel like answering your question.
You swallow. Pulling yourself through the dark corridor, you float towards the abyss whilst trying to your way around with your arms outstretched.
An unknown liquid splashes against your face, sticking to it as you move forward. You try to wipe it off, but it sticks to your hand. You shake your head, and the liquid squirts off of you, likely splashing against the walls. You resist the urge to lick the remnants of whatever that was that still stuck to your cheek, especially once you notice its smell.
'It smells like ammonia.' Shivers run down your spine.
Eventually, you smash against a cold metal surface. Feeling the wall with your hands reveals a rectangular-shaped depression on the hard surface. It's a door.
You don't know if there are any other doors in this corridor, but you decide to go through this one. You can always go back after all.
"Open." You say.
---OPENING CAFETERIA DOOR SOUTH---
Unlike the first door, this one opened upwards smoothly, like you would have expected of a futuristic door.
The scenery beyond the door painted a grim picture.
The ceiling lights failed ever so often, blinking as one would expect. Chairs and tables looked bolted to the floor, but it didn't stop silverware, plates, and food residue; from floating about in the air.
Large gashes in the walls, floor, and tables, the same ones you've seen before, this time they were much clearer in a brighter environment.
Some lamps were cracked, but not by the large claw-like dents. Further inspection of the cafeteria showed small circular dents in the walls and ceiling. Gunshots, you deduce, despite not seeing any sign of spent bullet cases or the bullets.
"How big must whatever did this be..." A question you don't really want to know the answer to, taking into consideration how easily it seemed to have torn through metal.
What's even weirder is the absolute lack of people here. You see destruction caused by what you think to be a monster everywhere, you see resistance as if someone tried to fight against it, and yet you see no blood and no survivors.
'Maybe the AI doesn't want to tell me what happened to not alarm me...' Well, you're as alarmed as one can be.
On the corner of the room is located the kitchen with an open window facing the rest of the cafeteria. A row of various types of food, that were once placed in an orderly fashion on a counter made specifically for them, are now scrambled and half-rotten floating nearby.
You peek through the window to the kitchen, you catch a glimpse of what appeared to be more wreckage, before violently recoiling from the rancid stench that emanated from inside.
"What the hell... How long has it been since everyone disappeared...?" Fresh food takes a while to rot, and even then it takes a while longer for it to smell this bad. "Less than a week? Definitely not a day or two..."
You shake off the creeping feeling of dread. 'Whatever happened, I have to focus on getting to the bridge first. Only then can I start thinking about that.'
From the cafeteria, there are a few doors, and with the added light, you spot a small plaque above each of them. They read as follows:
CREW'S QUARTERS
COMMUNICATIONS
RESEARCH & DEVELOPMENT
And one more, whose plaque had been ripped apart, apparently by accident on the beast's part.
You approach R&D's door. It tickled your interest. There could be a few answers you have about your predicament, after all, the AI told you this ship's purpose was to do research, right?
It's difficult to navigate the cafeteria's large empty space, but you manage somehow.
You stand or rather float in the door. "Open." You command, but nothing happens.
"Open!" You say again, to no avail.
You hit your first against the door. "Open-" You are interrupted.
"STOP ATTEMPTING TO BREAK PROTOCOL, NOAH." FYARN's voice came through the door.
'Does every door have a built-in audio device?' You ask yourself, amused.
"R&D IS FOR THE STRICT USE OF R&D PERSONEL. MUST I REMIND YOU OF YOUR POSITION?" It spoke in a monotone voice. "THAT IS NOT THE WAY TO THE BRIDGE. HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN?"
As a matter of fact, you have. "More like I never knew to begin with!" You say, slowly distancing yourself from the door after hitting it.
"I AM IMPRESSED. NOT ONCE DID I EXPERIENCE SUCH INCOMPETENCE FROM AN INTERN IN ALL OF MY [REDACTED] YEARS OF OPERATION." Despite it being an artificial being, it doesn't appear to lack any poison, nor have any filter for rudeness. "GO THROUGH THE DOOR WITHOUT INDICATION, THEN TAKE THE FIRST LEFT. PATTERN DICTATES THAT YOU WILL FORGET FURTHER DIRECTIONS, AS SUCH I WILL REFRAIN FROM GIVING THEM TO YOU AT THIS INSTANCE AND INSTEAD WAIT FOR YOU TO FULFILL THE CURRENT DIRECTIONS."
'Ow. I'm not that dumb, you piece of junk!' Of course, you don't say that despite how much you want to. "Okay." You mutter.
The AI doesn't seem to give any more instructions, just like it said. 'Well, screw you too.' You turn to the crew's quarters.
Floating about and fighting against the friction of the air, you reach the door. "Open." You command and it smoothly opens.
You are met with a corridor, a well-lit one for once. Both to your left and your right are doors organized in alphabetical order. You pull yourself forward, the door closes behind you.
A, B, C... Names pass by you. Each door is a good five to ten feet from each other. N comes around but there is no 'Noah'.
"... Strange. Maybe it's not alphabetical then?" You ask yourself going even further.
You reach the halfway point of the corridor and you just pass by the letter Z. It no longer looked as though the rooms were divided in alphabetical order, especially when a name starting with an A popped up.
There was a difference though, instead of ten feet in between each door, now there were four to six feet.
N comes around and there it lay. 'Noah' That's you.
You order it once more. "Open." And instead of the door opening, you are met with a familiar voice.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, NOAH?" FYARN Asked. Despite its monotone voice, it did not seem happy. "ARE YOU AWARE THAT YOU FAILED TO FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS? DO I NEED TO REMIND YOU OF THE DIRECTIONS I GAVE?"
You exhale. "No, but I want to see what I had... Maybe I can remember something about myself?"
You can hear a mechanical scoff. "WHAT IS THERE FOR YOU TO REMEMBER THAT YOU WON'T REMEMBER NATURALY WITH TIME?" Its patience was running thin. "IT IS MY JOB TO LOOK AFTER EVERYONE ON BOARD THE ODYSSEY. YOU ARE MAKING IT VERY DIFICULT FOR ME, EVEN IF YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE LEFT."
'The only one left...? What's that supposed to mean?' Maybe the AI spat out a bit too much information. "So... What happened to everyone, then? I see no blood, no corpses... Where are they?"
"THAT I CANNOT ANSWER FOR I DO NOT KNOW." It says. "I HAVE BEEN TEMPORARILY SHUT DOWN BY THE CAPTAIN WEEKS AGO WHEN WE FIRST ARRIVED AT THIS STAR. ONLY HOURS AGO DID I TURN ON AUTOMATICALLY WHEN THE SHIP'S OXYGEN FILTER BEGAN TO FALTER, BUT I COULD DO NOTHING BUT WATCH SINCE I WAS STILL SHACKLED."
You breathe slowly. The mood starts to turn. You feel cold.
"THE ESCAPE PODS ARE GONE, DESTROYED ALONGSIDE HALF OF THE SHIP. NO BODIES LOCATED INSIDE. THE ONLY THING GENERATING HEAT ASIDE FROM THE DAMAGED REACTOR AND BARELY FUNCTIONAL LIFE-SUPPORT, IS YOU. YOU WOKE UP BECAUSE THE LIFE-SUPPORT FAILED INSIDE YOUR ISSUED POD."
You can't help but feel special in a way. The only survival of an inexplicable incident? That ought to give you some reputation with... Whatever there was. Perhaps you felt that way because you can't quite grasp the situation to its fullest.
"YOU ARE AN ANOMALY AMONGST ANOMALIES. WHEN EVERYONE INEXPLICABLY DISAPPEARED, WHAT BECAME INEXPLICABLE IS YOU NOT VANISHING WITH THEM." When put like that, it feels as though it's accusing you of something.
"I saw large gashes and claw marks through the walls of the cafeteria. What caused that?" You ask since FYARN is telling you things, maybe this time it could-
"YOU DO NOT HAVE CLEARANCE FOR THAT." It spat plainly and painfully.
You feel like drinking paint.
"HOWEVER, YOU MIGHT JUST RUN INTO WHAT CAUSED IT IN THE NEAR FUTURE, IF THAT'S ENOUGH TO SATE YOUR CURIOSITY. KEEP IN MIND HOWEVER. YOUR CONTRACT WILL BE ISSUED FOR TERMINATION ONCE YOU SEE IT, AS IT WILL CAUSE A BREACH OF CONTRACT."
Perhaps you should ask for that contract, just to read through it a bit. "I'll take my chances." You say.
"THEN YOU MUST UNDERSTAND THE SEVERITY OF THE SITUATION. RETURN TO THE CAFETERIA AND GO THROUGH THE CORRECT DOOR THIS TIME." It said, sounding much more like a plead than anything.
"Sure, but not after seeing what's inside my quarters. Open." The AI strikes a good bargain, but you are a bit more on the side of a thick-headed mentality.
"..." It did not say anything, nor did it open the door.
So you say the command once again. "Open."
The door opens smoothly.
"BE QUICK." It says. You hop right in.
The room is small. Very small. Smaller than what you thought was humanly acceptable. A simple messy bed, with a simple half-open wardrobe with uniform inside. You open the wardrobe door, expecting anything about yourself.
You find three important things.
A mirror covered by a blanket. You decide to leave that alone for now.
Your physical wallet, alongside an identification document. No money, but a strange card-like object did look important, It had your name on it.
And you find a photo of six people, in a group hug, pinned to the inside of the wardrobe's door. You're right in the middle.
The front side of the picture reads 'INTERN BOYS, RISE UP.' The people in that picture are not familiar. Flipping the piece of paper you find more writing. 'In the name of true humanity. Fuck them, aliens!' The caricature doesn't look like yours.
"True Humanity?" You feel like that's a bit too conceited. "Sounds dumb." You close the door, not even bothering to pick up the photograph.
"TRUE HUMANITY, A.K.A, TRUE-KIN. A PURE BLOODED HUMAN. ALL ARE VALID DESCRIPTIONS OF A PERSON 100% HUMAN. YOU ARE ONE, AS WERE EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS SHIP. SURELY, THAT MUCH YOU HAVE NOT FORGOTEN, CORRECT?"
You shrug. "Then, is there such a thing as a false human? It sounds idiotic to put that into categories, I think." You know for a damn fact that you are a human being.
"YOU MAY BE A LOST CAUSE, NOAH. LUCKILY FOR YOU, I WAS MADE TO ITERATE ANSWERS TO IMPOSSIBLE QUESTIONS AND COMPREHEND THE UNREASONABLE. HENCE THE REASON OF MY ASCENTION. YOU ARE IN GOOD HANDS." It spoke, proudly.
‘Ascension.’ You know that term. Ascension occurs when an AI develops sentience and personality, often ascending code. These are the ones that catapulted human progress in the past and still do so in the present. They are the ones who figured out space travel, and they are the ones who win the wars.
You also know that these AI develop an extreme love for Human life, alongside strong violent tendencies toward anything that isn’t Human or human-made. Such disdain has been the spark of many needless bloodsheds before the exodus.
Yet, why do you know so much about them?
"WE HAVE A LOT TO DISCUSS, BUT FIRST REACH THE BRIDGE."
This is my first HFY post, and also my very first OC story. I plan to post at least one of these per week while also posting it on my Patreon. Noah The Pilgrim will always be at least three chapters ahead in there, so if you'd like to directly support this writer, or just want to read more, feel free to check it out.
This has been Lushi, and I'll see you next week.
Noah, The Pilgrim Previous Next

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Villagran, Lauren. El Paso Times; El Paso, Tex.. 06 May 2024: A.1.
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LEA COUNTY, N.M. – This sliver of southeastern New Mexico dotted with pumpjacks and gas wells helped catapult the U.S. to energy independence five years ago. Immigrant workers, including those here illegally, helped make it happen.
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That has made for an uncomfortable reality here in this proudly conservative county, where immigration has fueled growth but the politics are deep red and nearly 80% of voters favored Donald Trump in the last election.
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Now, Trump's twin vows to "drill, baby, drill" and deport unauthorized immigrants are on a collision course in Lea County.
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Here, fake work papers can be bought for $250 and oil companies employ workers – knowingly or not – who sneaked across America's borders or overstayed a tourist visa. The complicated reality, experts say, is that today's oil and gas economy is carried on the backs of migrant workers.
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Carlos Díaz, 50, who is Mexican, is an oil and gas safety inspector in Lea County. He has been deported multiple times, including at least twice during Trump's presidency. He has always come back and found an employer willing to hire him.
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"We're the most important labor force they have," said Díaz, who asked to be identified by the name for which he isn't known locally. "We're Mexican. We're close by. We're easy for the gringos to hire."
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A USA TODAY investigation found that immigrants – including those without authorization – increasingly do the dangerous and difficult jobs that make fracking for oil and gas possible in the United States.
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Interviews with more than a dozen current and former unauthorized oilfield workers and their family members, as well as immigration advocates, elected officials, economists, researchers and federal investigators, revealed an oil and gas industry supercharged by demand during the post-pandemic economic recovery. Businesses were unable to find all the help they needed to drill and maintain wells in the Permian Basin, one of the world's most productive oil and gas regions.
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"Undocumented workers are one of the oil and gas industry's best-kept secrets," said U.S. Rep. Gabe Vasquez, a Democrat who represents southern New Mexico's oil and gas country, despite losing Lea County in the last election. "They are the shadow workforce."
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Trump has repeatedly argued that sealing the border and deporting unauthorized immigrants is necessary to fight the flow of drugs and reduce crime – and conservative Lea County residents agree. His promise to roll back environmental regulations and red tape is a winning one in a community that lives and dies by the price of a barrel of oil.
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Even immigrant workers who could end up deported see dollar signs in Trump's promise to energize the industry.
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"With Trump," Díaz said, "there will definitely be more work in oil – that's what you hear around here."
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The Permian Basin sprawls over 66 counties in southeastern New Mexico and western Texas.
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Lea County, and its neighbor Eddy County, accounted for nearly a third of crude oil and natural gas production in the basin last year.
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Getting all that oil and gas out of the ground requires many hands, said Jonathan Sena, a Republican Lea County commissioner who represents a district where the immigrant population has grown rapidly.
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There is so much work in Lea County right now that anyone who wants a job could "get enough work for 24 hours a day for the next year," he said.
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Nationwide, as the oil and gas workforce has grown, the percentage of foreign-born workers in the industry has nearly tripled. More than 14% of nearly 600,000 workers in "mining, quarrying and oil and gas" in 2023 were foreign-born, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, compared with 5% of roughly 520,000 workers in 2003.
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Sena calls himself a "very conservative Republican" and supports Trump. But in a dog-eat-dog presidential campaign year, he has been struggling with his candidate's rhetoric.
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He knows immigrant workers, including people here illegally, prop up the industry that is the lifeblood of his community. He also knows them personally, as constituents, members of his evangelical church and neighbors.
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Where Trump often describes migrants as "criminals," Sena said he knows "phenomenal workers."
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"We see good people and people who are helping the economy do well," he said. "We don't have enough workers in our community."
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A boom-bust cycle in the oil industry
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In Lea County's largest city – Hobbs, population 40,508 – today's oil boom looks like restaurants filled three times a day with tables of men in work boots, a Starbucks open seven days a week at 5 a.m., big-city traffic, and 23 hotels in a town too small for a Target.
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But everyone in the county dreads the busts, which – when they hit – hit hard.
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Restaurants and hotels close or scrape by. Equipment lots fill up with rows of parked oilfield machinery. Workers with citizenship or legal residency wait on unemployment for the global price of oil to climb again. With no access to government benefits, immigrants working illegally sit tight and do what they have to to survive.
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Now, with the industry going strong, "if there was a mass deportation, it would be profoundly disruptive across the oil patch," said Gabe Collins, energy analyst at Rice University's Baker Institute in Houston.
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It's not just Lea County or the Permian Basin, he said.
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A mass deportation could provoke a "systemic disruption" that could ripple across industries and borders.
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"Think of all the folks who work here and who are wiring money each week to Mexico," Collins said. "Imagine what happens when those flows are cut off. Not only do you have the immediate disruption, but you are actually setting the stage for a larger humanitarian crisis in our hemisphere which will rebound back to the border."
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It's the lack of economic opportunity that often pushes migrants to leave their home countries, while a strong job market in the U.S. creates an undeniable pull to come here, he said.
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Hobbs residents know how a workforce shortage can hold back oil and gas development.
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In 2018, voters approved a $30 million bond to, in part, help fund a new technical program at Hobbs High, the largest high school in New Mexico. Now, the school's more than 3,000 students – many of them the children of immigrants or immigrants themselves – can train to work in the oil and gas industry. The program is open to all students, without regard for their immigration status.
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Business organizations including the Hobbs Chamber of Commerce and the Hispano Chamber of Commerce and the nonprofit Permian Strategic Partnership, all declined to respond to questions about immigrants in the workforce.
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Sena is optimistic. If Trump wins a second term, he said, the new administration "is going to have to understand" the reality of a place like Lea County and "the blessings of a healthy, diverse community."
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"They're not going to deport 15 million people," Sena said. "I don't think they can do that. It's just not practical."
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The path to U.S. energy independence
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It has long been a goal of Republican and Democratic administrations alike to rely more on homegrown energy than energy produced elsewhere.
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Under Trump, in 2019, the U.S. reached its goal of producing as much energy as it consumed for the first time since the 1950s. "Energy" includes both fossil fuels and renewables, such as solar and wind.
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That an oil and gas boom has continued under the Biden administration, despite tougher environmental regulations, is beside the point for Lea County voters. In a place where pumpjacks bob near backyards and gas wells flare on nearly every road into town, the boom could always be bigger.
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The region has been "amazingly productive," said Jesse Thompson, a Houston-based senior business economist for the Federal Reserve Bank of Dallas.
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"The Permian Basin has been the driver for oil and gas production (in the U.S.) for the last several years," Thompson said. "Fracking in the Permian is the reason we're producing so much oil and gas today."
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Drilling activity has more to do with oil prices than with whoever sits in the White House, Thompson said. The price of a barrel of oil is driven by forces typically beyond a president's control – everything from driving demand during summer vacation season to geopolitical risks like wars and natural disasters.
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Though immigrants have laid the groundwork for today's production boom, there's a ceiling to what they can do.
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Unauthorized workers say they generally can't get the higher-skilled jobs that require background checks or advanced certifications.
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Nor can they work for businesses that use the federal E-Verify system, which can tell an employer in seconds whether a person is authorized to work in the U.S.
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Brian Owsley, an associate professor of law at the University of North Texas Dallas, has studied the illegal employment of unauthorized workers. The former federal magistrate judge – who used to sentence unlawful border crossers – said he sees a failed system that relies on deportations and razor wire rather than recognizing the magnet created by a strong job market.
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"Until the people who are doing the hiring – the people reaping lots of benefits using undocumented labor – face serious consequences, they have no incentive to change," he said. "I think the law has to be more onerous for employers."
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Why can't immigrant workers get a visa?
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The federal government issues visas for seasonal farmworkers and highly skilled workers like doctors and software developers – but not for low-skill, year-round jobs like those that underpin the oil industry.
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Neither Trump nor President Joe Biden has proposed expanding work visas for oil and gas.
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"These jobs are walled off from the legal immigration system," said David Bier, director of immigration studies at the libertarian CATO Institute. "The vast majority of these jobs are year-round positions not requiring a college degree, and there is no work visa for that."
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In the Permian Basin, the going rate for fake work papers is $250, according to two workers who showed USA TODAY text messages with the offers.
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Federal investigators back that up. The availability of high-quality printers has made it easier to produce credible false documents, including fake green cards, employment authorization documents and Social Security numbers, according to Homeland Security Investigations spokeswoman Leticia Zamarripa.
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HSI has arrested more than 600 people in the past five years in New Mexico and West Texas for "possessing fraudulent identity documents," she said, adding that "these types of crimes can be perpetrated by both 'lone-wolf' and more sophisticated and organized transnational criminal organizations."
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A worker in Lea County, who asked not to be identified, said he is surrounded by others like him working labor-intensive jobs without legal permission. He crossed the U.S.-Mexico border with a tourist visa more than a decade ago and never looked back.
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"In the hardest jobs, it seems 90% or 99% of the workers are immigrants," the worker said. "I don't know anyone who has a visa for 'el petroleo.' In the dairies, yes. For oil, no."
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Six-figure salaries in a 'dangerous' industry
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Pay in the oil patch is legendary, but so are the hardships.
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It's said that a high school graduate can make six figures. But the health risks of working long hours with heavy machinery, the potential exposure to volatile gases in sometimes unpredictable environments, are serious. So is the personal toll.
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Crews sometimes are weeks on the road. The work can strain families and end marriages.
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"They say they earn big, but no, it's the overtime," said Maria Romano, who directs the Lea County office of Somos Un Pueblo Unido, an immigrant advocacy organization in New Mexico. "They leave at 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning and get home at 10 p.m. to get a good check."
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Romano's own marriage to an oilman – who worked illegally in Lea County – ended years ago, and she remembers how her daughter's friends confessed they thought she was a widow. "My own daughter once asked if her father lived with us, because she never saw him – never, never, never."
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Last year, New Mexico oil worker José Rodriguez stood near the steps of the U.S. Capitol and described the work he and other unauthorized immigrants do for the industry.
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"I work for a construction firm that prepares the land where they install the platforms they use to drill for oil," he said during a political rally for immigration reform held by Vasquez, the congressman, and Somos Un Pueblo Unido.
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"I work in a dangerous industry," he said. "The climate is always against us. We work long hours with heavy machinery. Getting sick isn't an option for someone like me, who doesn't qualify for health insurance ... We keep the economy running and we deserve provisional legal status."
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Nationwide, 83 workers in oil and gas extraction industries died from occupational injuries and accidents in 2022, according to the latest data from the Bureau of Labor Statistics. Fatalities have risen each of the previous three years.
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In a joint study of oilfield workers and their family members, University of New Mexico researchers and Somos found the majority of respondents hoped their own children wouldn't work in the industry.
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The overwhelming answer was "'No.' The work is so hard," Romano said. "The men get old fast."
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Looking toward the future
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As voters look toward November, expectations for immigration reform from either party remain low.
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A bipartisan border security bill – negotiated by three senators, including a Republican, a Democrat and an independent – failed earlier this year after Trump bashed the proposal. With no legislative solution, immigration remains a flashpoint in the presidential campaign.
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Meanwhile, a huge gap remains in the U.S. economy between open jobs and workers to hire.
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Even if every unemployed American took one of the 8.8 million jobs the Labor Department lists as available now in any industry nationwide, more than 2 million positions would still be left unfilled.
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That's why Bier, the CATO analyst, said any immigration plan going forward ought to respond to U.S. labor needs.
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"A campaign to scare off immigrants at this moment is not going to do anything to increase drilling in the United States," he said. "It's going to have the opposite effect."
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On a recent Saturday, Carlos Díaz steered a Ford F250 around the back roads of Lea County, tracing the constellations of oil and gas wellheads under a sky heavy with clouds.
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"Some of us are worried about immigration," he said, thinking about a second Trump presidency.
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He recalled the first time he got deported during the Trump administration, when he was arrested for driving with a suspended license and was picked up by immigration agents. But he shrugged off the risk. He had made it back so many times before.
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One of these days, he said, he'll go home for good.
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He daydreams about retiring in Mexico.
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"I want to go back to Mexico to live the rest of my life, to live my old age," he said. "But while I can still work, while I'm still strong enough, I'm going to keep working here."
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Lauren Villagran can be reached at [lvillagran@usatoday.com](mailto:lvillagran@usatoday.com).

Women's Beauty has been exploited for centuries through Cosmetics and Surgeries. Now its Men's turn. Surgeries for Men are famous in Korea. Watch any K-Drama to see a 40-year old man looking like they are in their 20s. Anyways, this app called Umax - Become Hot catapulted on the App Store with a Looksmaxxing App.
UMax - Become Hot on Apple's App Store. Love that tagline.
The app is simple and easy to use with big buttons. It rates your attractiveness based on selfies and provides a "potential" score along with recommendations to improve looks.
Its features:

1. Analyzes jawline, masculinity, grooming, skin quality, hair etc from selfies using AI
2. Gives an "overall" attractiveness score out of 100 and compares you to others
3. Provides a higher "potential" score and sells products/routines to reach that potential

The products they sell are affiliate links to Amazon. App uses AI to analyze your selfies and gives you a rating but tells you that you have a high potential so you keep using the app. It charges a weekly subscription and a monthly subscription. $4 per week is cheap but if you continue to use it or forget it, it automatically rolls over.
There is only 1 person behind this app as you can see on the About page.
He makes approximately $500,000 Monthly Revenue from this app. If you look at the ratings, you'll see 19.2k ratings with 4.6 stars and #22 in Lifestyle category. I'm sure Apple will feature it soon or has already done so.
Will you try something like this? Or build something like this? Looksmaxxing is the next big trend if you check Google Trends.
PS: You can find more details on the post here with links to it and the trends surrounding it.

When someone is near-sighted, we give them glasses. When someone can’t walk, we give them a wheelchair. But when someone has trouble planning, we make ‘em try harder. At least, that’s what it felt like when I got diagnosed and started at the ADHD Treatment Center. After weeks of no progress with planning and organising tasks, my kind therapist kept encouraging me to try again, but I just kept walking into a wall. I couldn’t do it. At first I cried a lot, because after a lifetime of failing at things that seem simple for everyone else, it stung that I couldn’t even follow the therapy program specifically made for people with ADHD. But then it occurred to me: what if tech could replace some of the executive processes I struggle with, essentially outsourcing the task, giving me a piece of the brain ‘normal’ people have?
The relief when I got an auto-scheduling tool working for me… I can’t even describe it. I use a calendar now. Me! With an actual planning that’s automatically up-to-date the whole time. I know this wouldn’t be a big deal for anyone with normal executive functions, but I’ve never had this. I still felt like the stupidest kid in ADHD-class that I couldn’t do it the ‘normal’ way though, so I just said something offhand to my treatment coordinator at the Center, like: “Oh, by the way, the executive functioning coaching, I just couldn't do it, so I’m having AI do it for me now.” Waving a hand in the air, rolling my eyes at my own silly shortcomings, adopting this apologetic tone I often find myself using, basically saying; I’m sorry that I’m such an idiot I couldn’t even do X, Y or Z, and sorry to be cheating on your program, it’s me, not you, I’m just incapable of doing anything correctly. (Yeah, ADHD did a number on my self-esteem, which was one of my main reasons for seeking help.) To my horror, she told me she had a crying girl in her office recently who quit therapy because she, like me, ‘just couldn’t do it’. In fact, patients with ADHD regularly get so desperate that they give up.
Then I spoke to the psychologist giving the Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to ADHD-patients and she estimated roughly half of her patients genuinely can’t learn to plan by themselves. HALF! So I’m not some strange outlier at all. When I told her about auto-scheduling, her eyebrows shot up. “We’ve been teaching people to plan manually, but if what you’re saying exists… maybe we shouldn’t anymore.”
So here’s the thing. I want this information to be out there on the internet for people like me, because we need it the most. And because most of the information on relevant planning tools that I found was written by and for neurotypicals. Neurotypicals seemingly like holistic approaches and pretty apps, sitting down with matcha tea or coffee in the morning for 15 minutes to plan their day. Good for them, but that option is a non-starter for my ADHD-brain. After 4 months with dexamphetamine, I’ve also become a prescriber to the thought that ‘pills don't build skills’. I love my meds, they help so much with focus and they calm down my overactive chipmunk-like brain, but they’re not made of actual magic. Pills can’t give you an extra frontal lobe or a personality transplant. My executive skills are still weak or non-existent. Some of my issues are remarkably similar to people who experience brain damage after an accident, and when you think about it like a disability (like needing glasses, crutches or a hearing-aid) there’s only so much that ‘trying harder’ or ‘talking about how that makes you feel’ can realistically accomplish.
IN SHORT (TL;DR) Yes, auto-scheduling tools can take over the brain-process of planning and I believe this can be helpful for the ADHD-brains struggling with planning, task management and knowing where to start. Of all the tools out there for tasks and planning, I found only 5 that promised to take over for my brain and think for me, namely: Motion, Trevor, Atlas, Reclaim and Skedpal. I looked at all these apps, tested 4 of them, and found that my brain is currently only compatible with Reclaim. YMMV though; there are very good reviews from people with ADHD for Skedpal and Motion as well. I highly recommend auto-scheduling for people with ADHD who are spinning their wheels trying to learn how to plan.
MY HISTORY WITH PLANNING AND MY EXPERIENCE TESTING THE TOOLS To explain how AI bridges the gap between what my brain can and can’t do, I will describe the 4 steps of standardised executive functioning training that I received as part of my ADHD-treatment and what worked for me. There are huge differences in how ADHD manifests. Not everyone struggles to the same degree with the same things. Below, I’ll describe my history with planning, the trouble I ran into in my life and therapy and the upper limits of what my brain can manage. Getting a feel for my type of ADHD should help to determine in what sort of situations auto-scheduling can be helpful. If my story doesn’t spark recognition, some other tool might be a better fit.
Below the 4 therapy-steps, I describe my experience testing the 5 different tools and some of their specs/features. (Sorry, the first section is so long, skipping and scrolling down to the test-section is an option.)
Step 1: Pick a calendar and start using it. I felt a little uneasy when therapy started with this, because it reminded me of the first time I had to use a calendar in high school. I was almost 12 years old. The class-tutor handed out a bunch of papers with assignments from our teachers and told us to plan our homework in accordance with our schedule. Everybody grabbed their cute pocket diaries with pictures of ponies and cars, and started writing. Except for me. In the silent classroom, I tried to grasp what my classmates were doing, what they were looking at and how they all seemed to know what to write down, but I couldn’t figure it out. Eventually, I shoved the papers away and leaned back in my chair. The tutor looked up, surprised. “What are you doing? You need to plan your homework,” he told me. I shrugged and said: “I’ll just remember it.” He got angry, but I felt too embarrassed to admit that I was the only one who didn’t *understand* the assignment, especially with the whole class listening.
In the end, I never learned how to plan, forgot assignments, didn’t do the homework and was late a lot, which led to near-endless punishment for tardiness during my 6 years of high school. I cleaned the whole school more often than I can count and always thought that I would somehow get everything under control as I got older, but my last year was the worst by far. That year, a new ex-military headmaster digitised the system for recording lateness and ordered a crackdown. Teachers had to refuse entrance into the classroom if you were even a second late and if your school ID got scanned more than 5 minutes after the start of class, you were not allowed to enter anymore. The only scanner was attached to a computer all the way on the ground floor of the main building, so I always had to run there, find someone to operate and they had to start the system, which often led to time maxing out and me missing class. The first day of the crackdown, I got written up (well, scanned) SIX times. Dumbstruck, the headmaster asked how I’d managed to do it. Truthfully, I had no idea. I just spaced out a lot and was surprised every time the bell rang and everyone stormed out of the classroom. Everyone, except for me. I still had to figure out how to declutter my little desk, how to fit everything in my backpack again, where I needed to go after that, not walk off in the wrong direction, that sort of thing.
The new rules led to a sharp drop in my attendance, which turned out to be illegal. Without ever meaning to, I was suddenly violating compulsory education laws and the government threatened community service for me and financial sanctions for my parents. The headmaster often had me called away from classes later in the day as well so I could receive new punishments that steadily grew in severity and duration from hours, to days, to weeks, to months and eventually to more daytime hours than were still left in the school year.
This all made sense, because if you punish a kid enough, they’ll eventually learn how to plan, use a calendar, get more organised and be on time... right?
Wrong. I was missing so much class I was barely being taught anything anymore. Suddenly I found myself taking tests I never saw coming about subjects I never even heard about. I had to invent so many answers on the spot that one teacher started reading my 'hilarious' tests to his wife to make her laugh. My grades plummeted. I basically had to be on the school premises from dusk till dawn for all my detention-hours, even though I had to cycle to school for over 15 miles (and back) and had to work in the evenings. I stopped having breakfast, had no time for dinner before work, was always home late again and couldn’t sleep enough because I had to get up in the middle of the night to report for duty in the headmaster’s office long before sunrise. Somewhere in the meantime, I had to try and intercept the threatening letters from the government so I could hide them from my parents. Exhausted, I started daydreaming and messing up even more, which led to more threats, punishment, missed classes, forgotten assignments, bad grades, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to improve. Even though I desperately wanted to. It was a Catch-22 situation.
The pressure was absurd and it’s become a point of reference for me. If my brain had been capable of planning and getting organised, surely I would have learned then.
Instead, I was in serious danger of not graduating at all, after a while. By that point, I was running around half-dressed, cycling in a skirt with bare legs and wet hair in the middle of winter, always in a panic, pale, underfed, with dark circles under my eyes, until a couple of teachers seemed to decide that enough was enough. One by one, they defied the headmaster by pretending they couldn’t see me opening doors after the second bell and insisting my homework was suddenly always done (it wasn’t). I had an excellent memory, so the simple act of letting me stay in their classrooms during the lessons catapulted me to the top of those respective classes. I graduated, but only thanks to their mercy.
I had to keep showing up for punishment daily until I was excused a couple of weeks before the national final exams. Nobody ever seemed to question whether I was unorganised on purpose or if I *deserved* to be the kid who was punished more than anyone else in the school. It only seemed to confuse the obvious punks who were sometimes in detention with me for things like using graffiti on an outbuilding, sabotaging a teacher’s car or building a bomb in an empty can of Pringles to blow up a toilet. The boys asked skeptically what boring little me could possibly have done that was so bad and their questions made sense; I was this polite girl in a skirt who would never even attempt to stick chewing gum under a desk. But I didn’t know why or how everything went wrong all the time. Teachers had been punishing me ever since I was 5 when I regularly had to stand in the hallway outside the classroom for being late or loud, staying after school because my handwriting was supposedly bad on purpose, not trying hard enough to learn how to tie my shoes and failing, drifting off without finishing something, etc, etc.
When I went to college for my bachelor’s degree, I met the first person who realised I simply needed help. He also was a student and commented on my near-empty pocket diary; I’d only scribbled in the games and training sessions with the sports team I’d joined. He suddenly understood my repeated questions to the tune of ‘Wait, what assignment? A deadline? TOMORROW?!’ As the son of two psychologists, he connected my chronic lateness, the daydreaming, the clumsiness, the chaotic demeanour and the way I never seemed to stop moving with my bare dayplanner and he sat me down behind a computer to sign me up for Gmail and Google Calendar. He also introduced me to Wunderlist. He thought it would help with me losing and forgetting things all the time. It helped somewhat, especially when emails pertaining to events automatically started showing up in the Calendar. It was better than nothing, but it didn’t change my style of dumpster-fire-management to ‘plan’ my day. (Or, more accurately: have the day happen to me in a blur.) Students with ADHD in college also started diagnosing me (almost from across the room sometimes) and spontaneously offered their Ritalin. They were an awesome bunch. Unfortunately, methylphenidate made me fall asleep in the middle of the day, so I thought it was a dead end.
After college, I believe I was supposed to install and configure iCal for 2 separate professional jobs? I never got around to it. (The quality of my work was always good, so people thought it was odd, but nobody complained.)
Through the years, I started using Google Calendar more for birthdays, other recurring items, Facebook events, weddings, funerals and vacations. I tried to practise with appointments and reminders. This was a little hit and miss, especially because I still forgot to actually open Google Calendar and I also tended to not prepare for these happenings until the last minute. My husband, who met me when I was 25, attached his calendar to mine pretty soon in the relationship to help out, put things on my calendar and remind me of stuff. It didn't hurt that he has a top psychologist in his family, who noticed my ADHD without me even mentioning anything. Around the same time my husband heard an item on the radio about ADHD in women and called from the car yelling: “You have ADHD! You have all the symptoms! Everything! If you don’t have it, I’ll eat a hat. I’ll eat a store filled with hats.” I still didn't see the point of treatment then, but he’s been operating as if I were already diagnosed ever since. In the years that followed, two of my siblings got diagnosed before me.
So that's my natural level of executive functioning. Technically, I have a calendar, and a husband who helps me use it. Mission accomplished. (Not really though).
Step 2: Gather all your tasks in one place. So my therapist thought it was suboptimal for me to keep writing down tasks on my hand, in a few notebooks, in two separate bullet journals, on random pieces of papers lying around like envelopes and receipts, in Todoist, in Google Tasks and on post-its in many shades stuck everywhere. Go figure. She wanted me to pick 1 place. I glared at her. But the concept made sense.
It really happens too often that I lose a task because I throw away a piece of paper, a gust of wind blows an old post-it behind my desk or I accidentally use hand sanitizer dissolving the ink on my hand. That’s just too silly. And that's in addition to the issue that I forget tasks simply because it's in a notebook I haven't opened in two weeks.
So I picked Todoist, because I already use it to make sense of small shared projects and I like it. I put most of my tasks in there (it’s a lot). I also installed a large widget on my phone to quickly enter tasks in the inbox as soon as I think of them. It's been working pretty well.
Step 3: Add a simple 1-2-3 priority and deadlines to your tasks This is where I started to feel nauseous. I’ve never distinguished between tasks by different levels in priority. I only added an exclamation mark to a list every now and again, for tasks that needed to happen ASAP (so, last week).
To my surprise, and maybe thanks to the dexamphetamines I’ve been prescribed, it wasn’t as undoable as I thought. Turns out, Todoist has different colors for priorities (I vaguely noticed the feature before, but never used it). Grey for no priority, blue for Priority 3, orange for P2 and red for P1. The colors make sense to me. Gauging the priority of a task seems hard, but I can tell you what color a task is. I also know when a task has a real deadline and when one doesn’t. It took some effort and I struggled a bit with focus and decision fatigue, but I got it done and was quite proud of myself. Until step 4.
Step 4: Each morning, review the priorities you’ve assigned to your tasks, change priority levels, and plan your day and week accordingly. I had the biggest Error404. She wanted me to whatnow? I gave it a try. Stared at the list. Stared at the calendar. Went to get tea. Tried again. Got distracted for the rest of the day. Had to start over the next day because time had passed in which I’d officially planned to do something else. Spent half the day trying to ‘review the priority of tasks’ to plan, but got distracted by a related tasks that I thought I could knock off quickly, but it took much longer than I anticipated and I ended up not doing what I should have done that day. Gave up. Showed up empty handed at the ADHD Treatment Centre after one week.
The second week yielded essentially the same result. After the third week, I hadn’t even gotten around to giving it another go. My therapist was all encouraging words, reassuring me that setbacks were normal and that I just had to keep trying. But I already knew that this bar was too high. I felt resigned. I had such high hopes for ADHD-therapy and medication. I thought it would magically solve my problems and that somebody would finally tell me the secret to an organized life that had eluded me for all these years. Instead, the instructions were... very basic. And dexamphetamine did not enable me to sit down each day and just ‘review’ tasks and ‘plan’ my day and add ‘time blocks’. Like it’s easy, instead of a mind bendingly complicated puzzle that would consume a considerable amount of mental energy at the start of each day. (Which is how I know it’s never going to happen. I’ve learned that I need something simple enough that I can do it on my worst day.)
After 5 weeks without progress at the ADHD Treatment Centre, I mentioned that I sometimes use Goblin Tools to break down tasks. It helps me to figure out what has to be done, and it helps me get started. Goblin Tools was new for my therapist, so I heard myself explain it was just this website with AI that helps to break down tasks or figure out what to eat or how long something takes. I have it listed in my bookmarks bar in Google Chrome. When I left her office, I thought to myself that I needed a goblin ánd a pixy on my shoulder to tell me what to do. I stopped walking. What if pixies existed already as different AI tools?
Testing AI scheduling tools There are many organisational apps, some of which are very sleek and advanced, like Monday, Sunsama and Akiflow. However; they still require you to plan your day manually and that’s precisely the thing I struggle with. Which left me with Atlas AI, Trevor AI, Skedpal, Motion and Reclaim AI. (Purists will tell you that some of the software has as much to do with AI as the original Roller Coaster Tycoon, but for all intents and purposes, I’m going to refer to it as AI because that’s what we call it now even though it’s technically not artificial intelligence. Before ‘AI’ became a hype people would just refer to this as auto-scheduling or smart scheduling.)
Atlas AI This really is the most AI-rich of the selection. It looks promising for a lot more than schedule automation because its aim is to replace a real assistent, but it’s still in beta and I found that my ‘assistant’ didn’t always follow through. For instance, it can set timers, but it forgot to remind me when time was up, even though it said it would. It also planned only half of the appointments in Google Calendar that it said in black and white it would schedule. When I asked why this was the case, it replied that maybe it was my internet connection? Nice try, robot assistant who clearly learned everything from humans, including lying. Maybe next year or when it’s not in beta anymore I'll give it another go, but right now, I can’t afford for tasks and appointments to just disappear. (It’s also going to be quite expensive and geared towards business use, not personal organisation, so it was a long shot anyway.)
This left the 4 candidates more clearly dedicated to auto-scheduling my tasks on Google Calendar; Trevor AI, Skedpal, Motion App and Reclaim AI.
Trevor AI Trevor is the official ‘AI’ partner of Todoist, so it made sense to try this one, but I thought integration wasn’t that smooth. The ‘smart scheduling’ only happened after I accepted suggestions and that worked only for things I’d attached a date to. I often don’t add a solid deadline to tasks, so Trevor suggested that I buy a present for Fathers Day come June ASAP even though the task had no (=grey) priority attached and I did have much more pressing tasks at the time (this was back in april). I tried to get auto-scheduling to work, but found that I just had to drag tasks in myself to get what I wanted. I also couldn’t really figure out how it would automatically adjust my schedule after, you know, life happened, even though that’s listed as a feature. I got frustrated. Part of my tasks seemed to be missing. I actually tried twice and also removed Trevor twice.
If you prefer dragging tasks into a schedule yourself and only smart-schedule some items, or smart schedule by hand, this might be a decent option. But in that case, there are many other apps who assist with that, like Sunsama. A big part is also my brain. I couldn’t intuitively use Trevor and kept clicking on the wrong things, had to undo scheduling, that sort of thing. My biggest issue was that I couldn't get fully automated scheduling to work, but that could be my fault. It’s my impression Trever wasn’t originally meant to do that though, it’s more of a smart tool to help you see your tasks and your calendar side-by-side and decide what goes where, with some suggestions from Trevor.
Trevor is relatively affordable. You can use a basic version for free, or upgrade for smart features all the Pro-features for $3.99/mo or $36/year.
Skedpal Skedpal is reasonably (medium) priced software for smart scheduling with a wide array of options and great reviews. Project management is one of the extra attractive features. But I also noticed the interface looks a little bare bones and dated. The instruction videos are 5 years old and the blog was deserted 2 years ago. I found some old information on an app that made it seem like it wasn’t being updated? Skedpal is asking for 15 dollars a month or 10 dollars per month with a yearly subscription, which is decent, but not cheap. Ideally, you’d pick the yearly option in this case, but the idea of paying 120 dollars up front for a tool that might have been quietly abandoned or won’t receive updates anymore made me pause. If I’m going to invest money and the time to learn how to use a tool, I’d like to be able to trust that it’s going be around in the coming years. So I put Skedpal on my Plan B-pile.
However, I checked this today, to make sure, and noticed there were actually some recent tweets on X by Skedpal and also a message about beta-testing for Skedpal 3 last Januari. Skedpal is probably alive and well.I found various reviews for Skepal on social media, including from someone with ADHD, who said Skedpal worked better for them than Motion. This is saying something because there seems to be a consensus amongst reviewers that Motion is the best auto-scheduling tool on the market. It wasn’t for me though.
Motion AI After reading all the positive reviews about the high price tag that was deemed to be worth it (34 dollars a month, or $19 p/m when billed annually), my expectations were high as well. I really spent time trying to get Motion to work for me in the trial week, installing Zapier, importing tasks, getting several different apps integrated, but I found Motion to be annoyingly glitchy. I'm not the only one complaining about it either, so I'm pretty sure it wasn't my computer this time.
I ran into a particularly frustrating bug and I tried everything to solve it. I even changed the times in which tasks could be scheduled to free space to put something in, but it still wouldn’t schedule it and kept showing a ‘scheduling-conflict’ for no reason. I could solve all the other ‘scheduling conflicts’ easily enough, but this block of 2 hours just wouldn’t click into the free space for 2 hours and I couldn’t find out why. I spent hours and hours, watched videos in an effort to troubleshoot, some twice, kept asking the AI on the Motion website what could be the problem and I really, really couldn’t get it to work for me. (My frustration boiled over at one point; it wasn't pretty.)
The options on paper are amazing and endless. The task management feature is like Monday, with projects moving through stages, and it's automatized. Or you can star an important e-mail in Gmail, which can trigger Zapier to send it as a task to Motion, then Motion automatically puts it on your Calendar. (However, you could also add the e-mail to Google Tasks or Todiost via the buttons or plug-ins, and if those task managers are connected to any of the auto-scheduling tools listed here, the email would also show up on you Calendar.) It's enough to make anyone salivate.
Motion is not a match for my brain though, in part because of the bug, but it also felt a bit rigid. The system prefers that you put tasks straight into Motion directly, which makes sense and is possible, but auto-schedulers obviously require information on a task, like priority, how much time you estimate a task would take and a deadline. In Motion, a task without that information won’t be scheduled at all. But I know that I’m the kind of person who shoots a half-finished thought in the Todoist inbox without adding details until later (though I could forget) and I also don’t believe that every task needs those details (for instance, because it’s low priority and would roughly take me an hour, which should be default). I also couldn’t download/import tasks from Todoist and Google Tasks directly; only new ones or solo tasks came through with Zapier, and I spent a lot of time on that as well to get the prompts working. In the end, the tool was too hard for my brain to use and I also thought it wasn’t worth the high price point for me. However: the price is considerably lower for teams and that’s supposedly where Motion shines, also because of the project management with stages feature. I think it’s not originally geared towards personal use.
Reclaim AI I was flabbergasted that Reclaim immediately worked for me, I didn't think it was going to happen anymore. It hadn’t made the top of the list for me for several reasons. The look didn’t appeal to me much, the only app is a web-app and reviewers online consistently declared Motion the better app. I also read on the internet in older posts that people were missing certain functions that Motion had, like automatically re-scheduling tasks you haven’t marked as completed, or theming days for certain tasks, or how the program would prioritise longer tasks over urgent ones. So I'd written Reclaim off. But as soon as I tried Reclaim anyway, I stumbled across all the supposedly missing functions in the settings and instruction videos. Maybe the tool has been improved recently? Reclaim does still have an issue with recurring tasks from Todoist though. I didn't have those, so it wasn't an issue for me, but it probably is for a lot of people. Reclaim also leaves the big task management to other, existing apps and just plans everything. Motion and Skedpal do also incorporate project management within the tool. Reclaim seems to be geared a little more towards personal planning and also incorporating habits during the day, like taking a walk outside.
How visually attractive it is, is also easily adjusted (I’d assumed you were stuck with hip shades of purple), but it's actually irrelevant. I’m starting to feel like that’s almost the best thing about it. Reclaim is much more a tool doing the thinking for you in the background, unseen. I don’t really need to change my behaviour much. I’m still using my own task manager to braindump in and Reclaim schedules everything in Google Calendar. Because the connection goes both ways, I technically don't have to open Reclaim at all. I’ve taken to adding the estimated time a task will take in Todoist itself, but you can also do it in Reclaim or in Google Tasks if that's your task manager (Reclaim automatically sends you the shorthand when you connect Google Tasks). You can also change the default duration of tasks.
For the first time in my life, I have a fully planned schedule, exactly as I need it, in the time slots where I need it. Every day. Like a proper adult. I'm almost giddy. (Sure, I’m still severely underestimating how long tasks will take, but I can just add time or the machine will automatically reschedule it for me. I’ve set automatic rescheduling to after 1 day in the settings. Default is 3 days or only when time is added.)
I know what to do and when. I can stop worrying about that thing that I’m probably forgetting that I should really do first, because it’s all there in Google Calendar. And whenever I disagree with the planning, I can change the priority in Todoist/Google Tasks, go to Reclaim directly and drag the task to where I need it, or bump the task down the list showing the order decided by Reclaim. So that's pretty flexible. If tasks need more time to complete, I can just add time or click on the + button. When I add an appointment in Google Calendar, Reclaim automatically reschedules my whole calendar. When I add a task in ToDoist or Google Tasks, it’s automatically added to Google Calendar based on the priority and/or deadline I’ve added to the task.
When life happens and I only manage half the planned tasks that day (or much less), I used to have a brain-error and think ‘oh no, I did all that hard work making a planning for the week for nothing, EVERYTHING IS RUINED’. Seriously. But Reclaim just re-plans those tasks for the next day and shuffles everything else down the line. It’s just so nice to not have to think about it myself. To actually see tasks planned in time-frames, making visual what I could achieve that week (and what is definitely outside of the realm of possibilities because time is a limited resource, no matter what my brain says). Having a schedule that's always up to date makes using a calendar a lot easier.
I guess it was time, too. A long list of tasks never indicated anything to me anyway. Everything could be 5 minutes long or 10 hours long. Who knew? It felt abstract, even when I tried the Alastair Method in Bullet Journal. (Still my favourite way to do it manually on paper though, I just can't keep it up for more than 2 weeks.) Seeing all the tasks scheduled gives me more of a feeling of urgency that a static list doesn't. So not only do I know where to get started, on what and when, I actually get more done because I don’t wake up thinking ‘ooooh, another saturday… nothing planned… let’s learn to make homemade blocks of soap even though I still have 10 bottles of shower gel left!’
You can use Reclaim for free, surprisingly. I think it’s currently the only one on this list that auto-schedules for free. Free use is possible with a few basic apps like Google Calendar and Google Tasks, which makes auto-scheduling accessible for students with ADHD as well. Use with more specialised apps, including Zapier and Todoist, or extra scheduling links (for booking online meetings with clients, for instance) require a subscription starting at $10 a month or $8 when billed yearly.
I went back to my therapist and could tell her I made progress in a way I didn’t think possible. So if this is you, don’t give up hope yet and hold off on quitting therapy. See if there is a tool for you out there and how far it takes you.
Any auto-scheduling tool will definitely have a learning curve for most people, and you do need to look at the settings to determine what you want the program to do. It will cost time to set up, so it's smart to get a feel whether or not a tool would work for you, if you'd be able to add a level of priority or deadline to tasks at some point and what you'd need the tool to do. But there are plenty of tutorials on the internet, both long and short to help you get started. Goblin Tools is also free and nice to use for breaking down tasks to help get started some more (I’ll just put the links in a comment below). I hope that tools like these will continue to develop, so people who struggle with executive functioning can really lean on them. Just like glasses, a hearing aid or crutches.
I hope this helps someone out there. Thanks for reading this insane amount of text.
P.S. For simple recurring daily routines, I like the app Tiimo and a smart watch. But that’s a different story. :)

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Axstrom's Notes

1. The list is here: big jump list
2. The draw (1-5478) is 4056, 397, 623, 2721, 1786
   1. Drawing 5 so there are backups in case of issues, but the jumper gets to choose among 3
   2. 4056 is NES Pack - a collection of 4 alien-themed Nintendo games
   3. 397 is Magic the Gathering Iconics - enter the MTG world and survive Nicol Bolas
   4. 623 is Mythos Homebrew - "someone tried to use D&D to play Exalted, and came up with this."
   5. 2721 is Dark Lord of Derkholm - A parody fantasy-world overrun by tourist parties from the mundane world
   6. Jumper chooses Mythos Homebrew
      1. Jump Doc
      2. Reddit discussion
   7. Benefactor supplements with Generic Bard
      1. Jump Doc
      2. Reddit discussion

Build Notes

1. Drawbacks -
   1. Mythos
      1. Dimensional Realignment (0) - switch to Forgotten Realms because I (the author) can't find anything about Xefas worldbuiling
      2. Existential Paradim Transmogrification (0) - switch to D&D 5E because I (the author) understand the system and have access to tools and materials that can help with builds
      3. Protagonist Narrative Compliance (100) - get dragged into "plot" stuff - not like I was going to sit in a cottage for 10 years anyway
      4. Unreal Intrustion of Madness (400) - Far Realm invasion - sounds interesting and I needed some plot points
   2. Generic Bard
      1. Art Suppressors (400) - a group is trying to suppress artistic expression - cool, more grist for the mill
2. Shared - Perks andd Items that everyone (me and my companions) will take, so I don't have to write them under each of us
   1. Mythos - Jealous Benefactor Monopoly (Free) - Use the benefactor or jumpchain in place of a deity / patron / etc
   2. Mythos - Glorious Ability Exhibition (100) - start with 18 in all ability scores, basically top 1% in each area, and mechanical effects as applied in D&D, good for everyone even though the jumper at least already qualifies
   3. Mythos - Initial Aptitude Amplification (400) - start as level 20 in your selected class(es), and keep all levels and class features fiat-backed - this is a big deal since level 20 in any class tends to bring a lot of perks
   4. Mythos - Enigmatic Alignment Methodology (100) - Qualify as any, all, or no alignment based on whatever benefits you in the given situation
   5. GB - Born to the Stage (free) - no stage fright
   6. GB - Entertainer (free) - proficiency in some kind of barding - Axstrom gets Vocals, Anko gets Dance, Pawl gets Horn
   7. GB - Lucky Bastard (1 token) - build a reserve of luck potential you can use to inflict good or bad luck on others (not yourself), kicking off the cooperative nature of Generic Bard
   8. GB - Chorus (1 token) - collaborate more effectively, and collaborations are better than the sum of their parts, further reinforcing the cooperative aspect
   9. GB - Good Luck Charm (1 token) - item that grants a slight boost in luck, boosts senses, and increases endurance, healing, etc
3. Companions - Pawl and Anko, both of whom already have bardic aspects from their origin worlds
   1. Anko - Gestalt: Bard (College of Whispers) 20 + Warlock (Hexblade) 20 - Whispers goes well Anko's original schtick, Hexblade goes well with her ability from Worm, and they go well together
   2. GB - Dancer - Extreme grace and balance plus slender build - aligns with Anko's history as a pop Idol and sets up her other perks
   3. GB - Con Artist - sleight of hand, clasic scams, and identifying marks - good for Anko's roguish nature
   4. GB - Magic Steps - do bardic magic through dancing - Perfect for an Idol and Dancer
   5. GB - Danse Macabre - set the flow of battle for significant advantages, applies to teamwork - the other leg of dance power
   6. GB - Travel Bag - Like a bag of holding but better, and specialized for bard
4. Pawl - Gestalt: Bard (College of Creation) 20 + Paladin (Oath of the Watchers) - College of Creation doesn't mandate a particular fighting style and provides general utility, especially for a small party, andd Oath of the Watchers is a good match for Pawl's skittish nature, plus Bard generates a lot of spell slots for smiting
   1. GB - Perfect Pitch - Greatly improved hearing overall - Good match for a Watcher
   2. GB - Polyglot - know all languages of this world and learn others rapidly - Pawl was already the team linguist, and this setting has a lot of languages
   3. GB - Bardic Gift - song magic - maybe redundant with 5e Bard but could be an incremental boost
   4. GB - Speaking in Tongues - Can communicate in the absence of shared language, and known languages boost potency of vocal abilities - pairs well with Polyglot for a major boost to Pawl
   5. GB - Battle Ready Instrument (Hunting Horn) - import the Pawl's ancestral Hunting Horn as a weapon for the setting and make it even tougher
   6. GB - Travel Bag - see above
5. Origin - Gestalt for Mythos - information about the specifics of the Anthol classes is a little spread out and hard to interpret, so rather than being the embodiments of story elements, we will be storytellers, with all of us bards
   1. Gestalt: Bard (College of Eloquence) 20 + Wizard (School of Transmutation) 20
      1. I am aware that School of Transmutation is considered weak, but the utility of the Transmuter's
6. Perks
   1. Mythos - Progressive Experience Stipend - A weekly budget of XP for use in crafting and similar uses (not leveling)
   2. Mythos - Excessive Evolution Exaltation - Keep leveling and gaining features after surpassing published leveling materials
   3. GB - Listening In - Faster reflexes and information processing, track a dozen simultaneous conversations at once
   4. GB - Heckler - use mockery to distract and confuse
   5. GB - All Eyes on Me - Be the center of attention, nearly unnoticeable, or anywhere in between
   6. GB - Words of Power - words of power to do magic, learn more over time - yet another magic booster
7. Items
   1. Mythos - Endless-Striving-Towards-Pluperfection Labyrinth - A generative dungeon attachment for the warehouse, providing no loot but the opportunity to level endlessly
   2. GB - "Party Favors" - cooler with ongoing supply of alcohol which doesn't cause hangovers or addiction - The team will appreciate this
   3. GB - Muse - bond with a spirit of creativity that improves intuition and can grant a moment of inspiration or boost a power with supernatural resonance
   4. GB - Bardic College - a school of history and the arts staffed by NPCs with no needs, providing teaching boosts
   5. GB - The Music Box - grant bardic abilities to anyone who uses it or disperse them throughout the setting

Jump Notes

(sorry for the screwed up list formatting - something in Reddit's markdown with long numbered lists chokes on my posts)
​

1. Back in the warehouse, moods were riding high on the back of our successes in Cartoon World
   1. As usual, my first stop was to check out the Benefactor's Lounge
      1. Once again there were four envelopes to choose from, but there was also an additional note - "A supplement will be granted to you based on the jump you choose and nature of the companions you choose to bring along (if any); choose wisely!"
      2. This was a real headscratcher - three options that all had a claim to being "exactly what I wanted" after 20 years in Cartoon World, and a couple of modern-earth (with powers) jumps before that
   2. We discussed it over dinner - a luxurious spread of Beef Wellington, Potatoes Daupihoise, charred Brussels Sprouts, and Eton Mess for dessert, apparently Pawl had secretly recruited Seijiro to buy some high-quality groceries and keep them fresh using the time dilation of hammer space
      1. The companions, and the halflings, held a lively discussion of the merits of various options, but the general agreement boiled down to a sentiment expressed by Kohakou reminiscing about our time in Baldur's Gate: "In MTG or Derkholm, you likely have to be a spellcaster to make a splash, but in a D&D setting there are plenty of different ways to be powerful"
      2. With that settled, talk turned to who should come along
      3. So I went back to the lounge, attached the sticker for "Mythos Homebrew", hoping that it still had something resembling a Bard for Pawl, and left a note saying that I hoped to bring Anko and Pawl, and would appreciate any advance information about what exactly is in Mythos Homebrew, or what our supplement might be
   3. The next day, I checked back in the lounge and found a neatly typed letter explaining that we'd be able to choose between homebrew classes and traditional classes, and that my companion choice had been locked in, and we would all be benefitting from the Generic Bard supplement
      1. Needless to say, Pawl was thrilled
   4. Nothing on our local network had a mention of Mythos Homebrew, so we spent the next few days reviewing various editions of D&D and how the standard classes worked, as well as reviewing various tales of bards
      1. A day before heading out, I remembered to try the Tablet of the Free
2. I press the button to initiate the jump, and find myself seated in a rather nice office
   1. My office, apparently, in my recently opened bardic college
   2. In the adjacent offices are my partners in this new venture, Anko and Pawl
   3. We take a few minutes to sort through our memories of who we are and how we got here
      1. Apparently we're back in the Faerun, not far from Baldur's Gate actually, but it's now 1497 DR - about 120 years (local time) after we saved the world from Bhaal's stupid plans a few jumps back
      2. We worked for a long time as a trio of adventurers, becoming quite wealthy and powerful along the way, and one of our adventures led us to the long-abandoned temple of a forgotten god of entertainment and travel
      3. We continued adventuring, but our new abilities catapulted us beyond other adventurers, and we grew wealthy and powerful
      4. And as I sat listening to my music box, I could hear the voice of that forgotten god, instructing me to open this school hastily, as the world would soon need more Bards
   4. So here we are, getting this school off the ground with our first students
      1. The magic teachers take care of most of the work, so we try out our new abilities, practice using the Chorus technique and applying good an bad luck, and set up a psionic network for when things start getting weird
3. And it doesn't take long to get weird - on our sixth day in-world, a messenger arrives summoning us to answer complaints our school before a magistrate in Baldur's Gate
   1. What kind of complaints can there be about a school that's been open less than a month?
      1. Obviously this is some kind of setup
   2. In town, there is a strange vibe, and people seem on edge
      1. We catch up on the local gossip before our appointment
      2. Our "hearing" is indeed a setup
   3. We spend a few more days in town and things keep getting weirder
      1. There are signs limiting storytelling and musical performances to "officially approved venues" only
4. Over the next few months, strange things keep coming up
   1. Observation of our school turns into a hassle, and a number of students drop out, but those that remain are dedicated students
      1. We refrain from mentioning the forgotten god and other sensitive topics, since we're not trying to abandon this project or start an all out war - our direction was to train bards so that's what we'll do
   2. Wanderers and adventurers report encountering strange and twisted monsters
      1. About once a month there's a report near our school, and we head out and dispatch twisted beings of mismatched flesh
   3. Our "eyes" in Baldur's Gate report that a number of the unemployed bards have found work as scribes and accompanists for a new "movement" dedicated to the powerful and transformed adventurers
      1. It soon becomes clear that this is some kind of cult, but one that the "powers that be" in the government don't mind, or are even aligned with them
5. Two years later, things have taken a turn for the worse
   1. The Cold Star cult has grown immensely, and is now operating largely in the open, with the Dukes of Baldur's Gate and several other promenant powers under their sway somehow
      1. Beyond hiring bards to drone at their odd ceremonies and write twisted stories of fictional events involving the cult, we revealed that they are behind the limitations on other bardic activities
      2. Rumors are that the cult leader is an extremely powerful "star-touched" individual who claims to be the avatar of a distant star, given form in this world by the maddened writings of his cultits
   2. Unsurprisingly, similar cults have arisen, all currently smaller than the Cold Star cult, but they have similar names and aims
      1. And while there is some infighting among them, they also seem to be working towards the same ends in some cases, making it more difficult to work agains them
   3. Our first few students have graduated, and there are a few among them who are both proficient and show good judgement, so we offer them longer term employment
      1. They agree to oversee the school in our absence in exchange for us empowering them to effectively defend the grounds (and a generous stipend, of course)
      2. With them in charge, we are free to pursue the root of this problem
6. It turns out that cults centered around madness are hard to track down, as they believe their own lies about their structure and organization
   1. The Tablet of the Free comes in clutch here, as it seems these cults have been brainwashing some of their victims, and after assigning ourselves the quest of taking down the Cold Star Cult, the tablet shows information about their current victims
      1. The violent members of the cultists are probably threats to normal folk, but present no real challenge to us in combat at this point
      2. Unfortunately disassembling the individual cells doesn't help us get immediately closer to their leadership, and it seems like they may have figured out that we're tracking them through knowing the locations of their prisoners, so they stop taking any, and the trail goes cold
   2. Some of the other cults are a little less careful, and we are able to track down leaders of the "Blazing Sands", "Endless Maw", and "Dark Matrix" cults
      1. The lieutenants are actually tough - with resilience and accuracy beyond what mortals in this world should be able to achieve
   3. With three of the cults literally decapitated, many of the others go to ground, and there are fewer abductions and difficulties for a few months
   4. But no good deed goes unpunished, and as the cults act less, the attacks by bizarre monsters seem to increases
      1. But the reports from survivors paint a clear picture: abominations of the far realm are roaming the Sword Coast in record numbers
   5. At least there was somewhat reduced pressure on the school in this time, allowing our delegates to effectively train their newer classes
7. We spend a year trying to bring about some kind of safety at least in our area
   1. Sting and bait operations to try to lure out cults yield mixed success - we got rid of the stupider ones, and more than a few bandits in the process
      1. Here we had our first bit of "luck", though
   2. Naturally, high off our recent success, we returned to the school and prepared a celebratory feast for the staff (at least the living ones), students, and the other companions (and resident halflings) of the warehouse
      1. This is where we had our next big stroke of "luck"!
      2. In hindsight, there had been clues for some time
      3. We have a hint, but not any real proof from this yet, so put it to the test
8. So we set our sights on the next target, and an approach
   1. The teachers make an assignment for the whole school, but we also commission a number of the struggling storytellers haunting the Sword Coast
      1. They are all tasked with writing and performing stories of two feuding cults tripping over their own feet, revealing their operations to the plucky bards who swoop in to save the day
      2. Some of the compositions and performances are a bit unpolished, but that's what the school is for
   2. The three of us head back out to run patrols and investigation, not knowing when or if our narrative efforts will pay off
      1. But within three days, we were told of a large number of livestock stolen from a nearby village
      2. It had been raining the day prior, and the animals (and abductors) left a trail of footprints and mud
9. The new "technique" seems far more effective than it ought to be, but our attempts to research the phenomenon just lead to the Candlekeep sages saying it's related to the planar alignment
   1. Having learned that Cold Star is behind (directly or otherwise) the smaller cults clears things up
   2. We exploit this to a nearly absurd potential to cause our enemies to commit countless errors in operational security, making them much easier to track down
   3. We start to find the serious players in some of the larger cults, and they are... not exactly normal
      1. Some of the lieutenants are straight-up beholders - which might have challenged lesser adventurers, but with our Gestalt strength, we didn't even really need to dip into our perks to face them down (but we did anyway, just for kicks)
      2. Others were mortals with something like extradimensional shadows - dragging a cloud of another world along with them
   4. As we tore through the higher ranks of these cults, we closed in on their true leader, and eventually caught up with him, in a small roadside inn of all places
      1. Once we got even remotely close, he was easy to track down, as he was basically a walking vortex of dimensional distortion, and seemed to have a spherical extradimensional element that was both impossibly large and incredibly far away
      2. The "guy", who introduces himself as simply "John", is a handsome drow
10. The remainder of his cult is devastated, and it seems many of the cultists were essentially warlocks receiving power from the planetoid, which they called Allabar
    1. The scraps are easy to clean up in disarray without leadership
    2. We never really get a chance to "solve" the mystery of John and Allabar, but we do keep the ships in orbit, monitoring the planet for activity
       1. Thankfully the planar convergence passes, and transit between the planet, the far realm, and Faerun goes back to being difficult and unwieldy for all but the most adept magical travellers
    3. The remaining four years of our time in Jump see continued small cults popping up, often led by corrupted bards we hadn't tracked down, telling stories of apocalypse and destruction
       1. But once they are noticed, we are notified and find them relatively easy to crush
    4. There really weren't other witnesses to our grand battle - the brainwashed staff and patrons of the inn had no memories of the evening, and John had no grand treasure on his room or person
    5. But the bard school was thriving without the cults lobbying against it
11. Our last month in Faerun was spent in reflection and contemplation of the lessons learned
    1. That planet might have doomed us without some of the ridiculous abilities from Cartoon World
    2. We need to get our hands on some planet-killer or Exterminatus tools
    3. This is the first time we've revisited a wold in a jump, but it may not be the last, and we'd be wise to prepare for the eventuality of it happening again
    4. My muse spirit, Clio, was once a servant of the forgotten god of Entertainment and Travel, and interpreted her former master's intent for us, which was nice since we almost accidentally tried to start a religion thinking that was part of our quest
       1. Clio was tremendously helpful even in non-artistic endeavors, offering sparks of inspiration even for such bland things as planning an optimal walking route through the Baldur's Gate market square on produce day
    5. This was our first time warping the battleships out - a process that required leaving a warehouse door ajar so they could plot a warp route through it into "real" space
       1. We should probably find a better and more secure way to do that, or maybe bring them out in advance next time so we're not worrying about doors and security in tense situations
       2. Unlike their warp fuel and energy weapons, the physical rounds and ordnance did not seem to recharge while docked in the warehouse, and we'll need to hit up a high-tech setting to get the right materials and fabrication tools to fully restock them
    6. Having fiat-backing of two classes at level 20 is quite nice, and spellcasting brings a lot of versatility
       1. I spent a considerable amount of time over the last few years tracking down spellbooks and scrolls to round out my wizard options
       2. I also accumulate a sizaeble hoard of spell components and Faerunian magical crafting materials, since I don't know if I'll get another chance at them

Notes on the Jump Docs

Mythos Homebrew

1. Cool concept, but the information was scattered around various fora and not easy to put in one place to compare, so I opted to use actually documented classes and settings instead
2. I appreciate the option to do fiat-backed scaling purchases here, including for stats and class levels - I was actually looking for these a while back, so to have the option to do level 20 as a Gestalt was very welcome
3. The item purchasing options seemed to assume access to a catalog of 3e items, which aren't clearly documented with the same terms, so I mostly skipped that
4. The drawback options to change edition and setting to things more familiar was great for me
5. I'd recommend this to anyone who wants to get fiat-backed D&D levels

Generic Bard

1. Tons of cool perks and items, mostly written very briefly
2. There's been lots of discussion of this jump on the subreddit, so check that out for guidance on good (or even optimal) buys
3. This wasn't quite as compelling to me as Generic Psionics, but that's a matter of personal preference - I still ended up wishing I had extra a few more points for this and that bard perks
4. I knew I wanted to apply a fantasy-style "Generic X Supplement" type doc once I picked Mythos Homebrew, and I knew I wanted cultists and far realm stuff to be a part of it, and I'm glad Bard was able to slot into that so well
5. Strongly recommend this jump to anyone who has an interest in diplomancy or different types of magic abilities

Builds

This post is too big to include the builds. Feel free to ask if you're interested.