Had this thought and it tickles me because of how well it could fit into the story despite being ridiculous at first glance.
KKC has loden-stones and the runes that can provide the links to transfer the energy between two points without wires. So if Kvothe masters loden-stones in DoS, there could legit be a plot line of Kvothe 'reinventing the lute' like Illien did, except Kvothe could create "the galvanic lute".
Because that's what the pickups on an electric guitar are. It's just tiny magnets under the strings, wrapped in copper that converts the vibrating strings energy, the energy goes to the amplifier which is tada, more magnets.

The cone is fixed around its outside edges and base to a solid metal frame called the basket. A wire coil that’s wound around a tubular former is attached to the centre of the cone and is inserted into a circular gap between the north and south poles of a magnet. A dust cap covers the assembly to keep the gap free of debris and the coil assembly ‘floats’ in the gap without touching the sides.
When an alternating current from an amplifier is connected to the wire coil, a fluctuating magnetic field is formed around the wire, which interacts with the fixed magnet. This causes the assembly to move backwards and forwards through electromagnetic induction.
Springiness around the outside edge of the cone and the flexible ‘spider’ membrane at the base allows it to move with the coil assembly. The cone creates areas of compression and rarefaction in adjacent air particles, much like the soundboard of an acoustic guitar. In other words, they both generate sound waves, but speakers are driven electronically rather than mechanically.

So based purely on KKC's world building and the established rules for sympathy, Kvothe could invent the electric guitar and amp in the fishery, and it'd be even more badass because there'd be runes carved instead of wires connecting the guitar to the amp.
Which would be fucking awesome. Kvothe "spidering" out another sick solo, he'd even have those nice 'howling' long notes that you can't get from acoustic guitars. Obviously it'd need a better name than 'galvanic lute'. Could call it "the glute" because it makes your ass fall off
thought it was funny

The two word smash up. Just use any words, but its easy to find stuff that has a theme if you'd like. Example: there is an actor named Rip Torn.
The hide funny/lude stuff in your long name. People don't ever read out whole names. But if they ever do, leave them a surprise to find. Example : Redandbludics That one wont fit in the name creator in game. but you'd be surprised how just taking one letter off something makes it easier to hide and people still get it.
Lastly if I'm really lazy, ill do the "hit the random name generator, when i find something the i like the sound of edit it slightly to until i like how it sounds." If you're like me and don't know how it'll sound when pronounced (due to English not being your first language, or like me your just dumb). Try tossing it in google translate. It will sound it out to you.
Feel free to add your own name making techniques. (or just down vote the post, which ever gives you more enjoyment in life). Happy naming.
(please point out any spelling/grammar mistakes I've made in this post. It lowers my social status and raises yours)

Hey all! You can find my first attempt here. Thanks again for all the advice. I'm hoping it made this draft a bit stronger. I tried to pair down a bit and focus a bit and make its happenings a bit less vague (hopefully).
I cut off the section about keying his car because it's a moment that ushers in the end of Act 1 for the book and help keys off some of the threads in Act 2 and 3—I was worried it occurred too late in the novel to really make sense in the letter.
I've included my first 300 (and a bit extra) below as well!
Letter: I am seeking representation for my work, SPLITTINGS, a queer coming-of-age literary fiction novel set in Kansas during the early 2010s, complete at 90,000 words.
If Derek wants to feel like an actual gay person, he just looks at his phone. He doesn’t know how to exist in a world he can’t curate. In real life, there are protests against gay marriage. He listens to his twin, Jason, call people “fags.” When Derek meets college student Andrew, he believes the only relationship they can have is an online one.
Derek grows jealous his brother’s relationship with a neighborhood girl and escalates his relationship with Andrew. Suddenly, he's not just watching GIFs spliced from gay movies. Derek is sneaking out of house and lying about where he’s been. He’s starring in his own scenes.
But Derek doesn’t how to act. Or even how being gay should feel like. What does should he say on a date when he can’t look up a fact or send a meme? What’s the right expression to make when he sees Andrew’s dick for the fist time? It’s not the same as being on his phone. Derek feels like he’s not even a real person. If he was, he’d know how to behave. He’d know which person he is: the one he is around his family and friends, the one entangled with Andrew, or the one he witnesses online.
SPLITTINGS would appeal to fans of novels like Sarah Thankam Mathews’s All This Could be Different and Brandon Taylor’s Real Life.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
300:
The light from my phone made it hard to see the rest of the world. I read life expectancy statistics. A website siloed the information into demographic categories. Tabs on medical and family history collared the top of the page. I almost couldn’t tell I was in my bedroom. The smell from my sheets, my own scent, filled my brain. I didn’t know how I was breathing, how there was still oxygen available. In the morning I sometimes struggled to believe there was a whole world. I understood this as a nihilist issue: life was an object, a frictionless ball in a pachinko game, pinging off different immutable factors set generations before birth.
An advertisement for superfoods flashed across my screen. The picture, a man’s chest, made me want to dissolve but in a way that would somehow be good for the environment. I checked Andrew’s profile. It had only been thirty minutes since I last looked, which made me feel ashamed. Nothing on his page had changed since we met a few days ago.
Jason moved inside of his room. The sound came through our shared wall. Moving souvenirs on his desk. Laying his upper torso on the bed.
He had been annoyed at me since we went down to the river to celebrate graduation. Everyone had worn Class of 2013 t-shirts or collegiate apparel. As a twin-joke, Jason had made us switch shirts. He wanted to reset our relationship to a previous, juvenile state. People confused us all night. Because he was there, no one noticed when I left to walk the banks.
I had been practicing being alone. In a few months I was moving states for college. People kept saying it would be difficult being away from everyone, but the isolation would reveal a purer version of myself. My own removal made scenes more interesting and alive. At the party, my absence was the only novel detail. Relationships wove together in an uncomplicated net. Our friends believed they knew each other and that made them feel safe.

TL;DR: 85 yo Mom’s NW $6.5 million, gets mediocre paid advice from CPA / attorney / FA; should I find someone else to help her or since I’m likely the main beneficiary, should I just continue to be more involved and help?
——
Mom is 85yo, good health, NW around $6.5 million, invested about 50/50 stocks/bonds, age at death in her family usually over 100. Owns her home outright, worth about $550,000. Yearly spend is barely $40,000, and that includes her Medicare supplemental stuff. Everything she owns is in a revocable trust. She lives simply.
I think she’s been getting lackluster guidance from every finance/estate/law/tax professional in her life and am trying to figure out how to help her better with this OR find the right people to help her.
Her goals with her estate are to minimize estate taxes, leave most/all of her estate to me and about 10% of it to my sister, and have enough to pay for LTC for herself.
She’s currently gifting me and my spouse $18,000/year each. And I can occasionally get her to write a check to my sister as well. She is terrified she will outlive her money, and is always sending me articles like “SHOCKING: Sally Joe in Oklahoma only saved $80,000 for retirement and can’t afford her $50,000/yr nursing home.”
Tax Issues:
Her CPA, also a JD specializing in tax law (until he retired last year) was painfully unhelpful. He’d prepare her taxes but provided no guidance on tax strategy. Her investments spin off realized gains/losses from dividends and interest so some years she’ll have $450,000 in realized gains, then the next year $150,000 in realized losses. Her CPA was following the 110% safe harbor estimated taxes thing, so she’d end up chronically underpaying or overpaying, then get really annoyed at him about that. Last year she was due nearly $45,000 in refunds, but her CPA just rolled that forward to the next year’s tax liability without telling her.
So I called up her Financial Advisor (AUM model, sub 0.75% fees), and asked “hey, can we come up with quarterly predicted income forecasts so that we can pay estimated taxes in a more reality-based way?” And he was like “oh yeah, no problem,” and started generating quarter end reports that we can base estimated payments on.
Also, for as much as she complains about capital gains, no one ever said “hey, you can ask to to not realize as many gains,” and then explained what impact that might have. But when I lived in a city/county with high taxes that kick in over a certain income level, and I had no problem asking our FA (same as my mom) to limit realized cap gains to avoid getting above that threshold when we lived there.
Lawyer issues:
My mother has spend close to $30,000 on an estate lawyer to help rewrite her will. This person has jacked her fees from $180/hr when they first started together 3 years ago, to $600/hr now - the biggest jump happening when the attorney found out my mom’s NW. Doing something as simple as reducing my sister’s share of ONE account cost $2,500, including the time it took for the lawyer to write a letter for my mom to sign saying that the lawyer recommended AGAINST unequal shares.
Yet this lawyer has provided zero guidance around keeping taxes low, avoiding estate taxes, how to handle gifting, etc. And this lawyer pushed for she herself (the attorney) to be the executor of my mom’s estate. I tried repeatedly to explain I can handle selling her condo and closing her very simple estate but mom thought I couldn’t/wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Thankfully my uncle stepped in and assured her I can. He also explained she should have everything in an irrevocable trust to pass on her fortune without estate taxes. But I don’t understand why her lawyer wouldn’t have suggested this? After all this lawyer also creates trusts for people.
I should point out this is maybe the third or fourth estate lawyer she’s had. The previous one charged about $10,000 for a one hour meeting to generate a will that was riddled with errors, had other client’s names in it, didn’t capture my mom’s wishes, etc.
Estate Planning:
Since her CPA retired, I’ve started helping her do her taxes.
She could be reducing her tax burden through charitable donations (she has a list of about $200,000 in donations she wants to make when she dies, which we could start chipping away at now), and through 529 contributions to my sister’s children, since she lives in a state where that would be tax deductible.
Why was no one - CPA, lawyer - suggesting these things to her?
She lives in a state with a $4mil estate tax floor. Why did her estate lawyer not suggest she get her assets below that ASAP / ever?
I’ve worked through some tools like ProjectionLab, and she needs to start giving away more soon or she may quickly be above the Federal estate tax level. I’ve modeled several scenarios, trying to have her die at 105 with as close to zero as possible, and she’ll have to be VERY generous to make that happen.

Well REALLY, this has to be beyond frustrating for US tax payers. I've been calling (800) 830-5084 a couple times a day all month and can't get through using the English or Spanish path. This is the first time in years I'm due a refund and suddenly I'm required to verify my identity before they send my refund. The IRS online verification is not working for me, and I've read for many others. IRS says I need to call in but no one is answering my calls. The IRS options for verifying are so very limited it's ridiculous. There has to be a better way to accommodate Tax payers who have received a 5071C letter, since the IRS are the ones making us call them. I'm prsently on hold calling to attempt to make an appointment at the local IRS office, they put me on hold!!!! Is this the new world we live in, just make it impossible for customers to contact you. No way to contact IRS management!!! Is this the way our younger generation provides customer service, really?

Chapter 21:【Tales of Fire and Ice】
“Well, well well!” Crowley triumphantly announced. “Wu Zeitan has stolen Tsukuyomi’s precious scabbard and thus made him very angry! Will he get it back? Will he win? Will the fight turn out to be rigged in order to sell Tsukuyomi-themed peanut butter? All those questions will be answered!”
Upon seeing the enraged countenance of the young god on the battlefield, the King of Demons grasped his chin in thought silently, before pondering to himself with a smirk, “…Who would have thought that gods could be so attached to toys that aren’t made of flesh?”
“Oh my Nun!” Thoth gasped. “It’s beautiful! I wish I could get a closer look!”
“Ahh.” Crowley sighed. “Nothing like some good old-fashioned Grand Larceny.”
“That damn brat!” Izanagi snarled. “How dare she lay her hands on a divine treasure!” Amaterasu just watched, her smile looking almost amused.
Standing on guard nearby them was a goddess with short brownish hair and an oni mask covering her mouth, lightly armored over her kimono, an equally ornate scabbard at her hip. She put a hand to her waist and looked towards the arena in slight annoyance.
“Jeez, at least treat it with some proper respect…” she muttered, her tone sharp and irritated.
Catching the reflection of light, the sheath was subliminally visible to the entire world. It shone brighter than any platinum, encapsulated by the shadows created by the engraved design on the sheath. Holding it high above her, Wu smiled gently, like a flower amidst blossoming.
On the other side, the emperors of China fumed in various degrees of shock to apprehension.
“That girl! She’s always so materialistic!” Emperor Gaozong scolded, his knuckles white as he clutched the arms of his throne. Meanwhile, his son was almost folded entirely against the short wall between the arena and the stands, looking almost hysterical. Qin Shi Huang himself housed a frown upon his face, his brows slightly scrunched in scrutiny. Dionysus smiled almost knowingly, swirling his wine in his glass as he waited…
Distances away from the distracted empress, the young god let out a final shaking breath. He knew there would be whispers in the audience all around the castle, coming down to berate him, to affront him, to criticize him.
He refused to listen. Instead, he looked forward and sternly demanded, “Give it back! You have no right to—”
The words of the young god woke Wu from her trance and her hands snapped at the young god with such speed that it was shocking she didn’t break her own neck. Zetian rushed towards Tsukuyomi, forcing the disarmed god to instinctively take a defensive stance.
“Hahaha! I’ll beat you to death with this beauty!” The Empress proclaimed, before she swung the scabbard at Tsukuyomi’s head, forcing him to dodge to the side, at which point she delivered another, even faster strike at his waist. The sheer force of the attack knocked the god to the ground, unable to recover..
Or so she thought, before jutting her head backwards to dodge out of the way of Tsukuyomi’s roundhouse kick. “I was given more methods to defend myself than just a sword!” The moon god shouted, as his father’s words echoed in his mind:
‘What if you were to be disarmed? Do not solely rely on your weapons. Make your body itself a deadly blade.’
It was hard for him to adjust to the new style of combat…he could not rely on his innate gifts to help him. Tsukuyomi gritted his teeth, and pressed forward to master his parents’ teachings. His mother had taught him how to harness the flow of power in all things, and his father had taught him the relentless, graceful martial techniques of the angels. And now, he pressed onward, striking with both in tandem. Flowing, ferocious strikes rained down, each strike leading into another, each shift of Tsukuyomi’s feet, another barrage. The rapid offense forced Zetian to put up her guard, an amused grin on her face.
“So you want to try and beat me at my own game, eh?~ Hahaha! Bring it on then, you arrogant little shit!”
“Out of all of our glorious father’s offsprings, Tsukuyomi may well be the best when it comes to hand to hand combat.” Metatron proclaimed from the stands, earning a glorious nod from Michael. A slight, nervous-sounding giggle was heard from next to Lucifer, coming from a goddess in a white and gold kimono- she’d dressed as well as possible for this match.
“Haha…he really is. Both me and your father can attest to that. He’s always worked especially hard on it and his swordsmanship…I’m proud of him.” Izanami said. A soft smile was on her face, clearly more confident than usual as she watched her son fighting in the arena.
Lucifer breathed a deep sigh next to them, gaze glued to his son. “If only Tsukuyomi understood that himself. He focuses so much on what he can’t do that he overlooks what he can…”
Back in the arena, Tsukuyomi dropped low and dragged his foot, attempting to sweep out Wu’s legs from his position. However, the Empress jumped away laughing, having the time of her life. “Hahaha! So fun!” She spun the scabbard in her hand, taunting the moon god further with its presence.
Tsukuyomi looked more determined than ever, raising his eyes from the ground. “I can do this…”
“I can reclaim it,” his conviction echoed. However, mired with the light that shone from the gluttonous eyes of the Empress who had claimed his scabbard, he had forgotten the true purpose of their showdown. A corner of Wu's lips twitched.
Tsukuyomi jumped to his feet and charged to grapple her, opening his arms wide.
“Kyaa!” She yelped, causing several members of the audience to gape in shock. “The pervert is trying to grope me!”
The moon god’s face tinged red. “N-no, I-” He started, abashed. Sensing the release of tension in the god’s arms, Wu struck.
“Just kidding~ You’re mine!” Wu grinned as she bashed the god’s face in with his scabbard, several teeth flying out of his mouth joined with spots of blood. As his senses were clouded, the empress wound her legs back, and sent her powerful knee toward the god’s defenseless stomach. At the last second, Tsukuyomi raised his forearm to block the strike, while his opponent drew distance between them with the tap of her boots as her feet met with the ground.
“E-eh…?!” Izanami stammered, clearly caught off guard and very much concerned. She blinked a couple of times as if trying to process what she had just seen.
Dionysus gorged himself on another glass of crimson wine before letting out a childlike giggle. “Ahh~ Such an intimate fight~ My favorite~ They only lack oil on their bodies~”
Qin Shi Huang raised an eyebrow at him. “This isn’t that sort of fight. But you would wish it was, wouldn’t you?”
“Let's play some more!” Wu exclaimed to the heavens, before rushing at Tsukuyomi with her heart aflame.
The moon god was still flustered. “Is.. is this just a game for you?” Then, his face hardened. “I suppose that's better for me then…”
His life flashed before him as his precious sheath ripped through the air towards his face. The wild empress swang it with an unparalleled, furious desire. Tsukuyomi brought his palm up and directed the blow above him, before he swung his left arm upwards, with the momentum gained- towards the side of Zetian’s disabled arm. His strike landed square on the empress’ jaw; causing her to rip her arm back up and hit Tsukuyomi with utterly explosive force, a force that was much to her surprise, only able to knock him a couple of feet away. Tsukuyomi shoved her back into a clumsy stumble as she looked down at her arm with utter shock. The arm that had performed the whip-like strike had been cleanly dislocated, and despite Zetian’s martial prowess and strength, it wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. This was Tsukuyomi’s chance.
‘No matter how much you dull the pain you receive, you’re still no more durable than usual. You can trick your brain, but not your body…’ A sense of confidence captured Tsukuyomi’s mind for a fraction of a second, before he became focused once more. While Wu stared at her arm with a blank yet curious look, Tsukuyomi jumped forward and brought his hands to the sheath. She snapped out of her dazed state and attempted to grip it further, but the young god did something unexpected.
His hand went to the opening of the sheath, and from it, he drew a pearlescent blade of light into his hands.
“I swear, everyone gets an infinite sword generator nowadays!” Crowley mused.
Izanami smiled, watching her son go back on the offensive. “Umm…You’ve got this! Don’t back down!”
Pushing his leg back and raising the blade, Tsukuyomi then launched himself towards the retreating Wu and sliced down at the remains of her garment with chilling precision. Occasional blows would tear at her flesh and freeze the blood into crystals of dreadful gore. Her movements remained unsteady due to his earlier dazing strike- and Tsukuyomi took full advantage, slashing rapidly with his blade of light. His attacks were precise, intended to land as many blows as possible while Wu’s defenses were staggered, targeting the areas where she was faltering the most.
‘This is going somewhat well, but to think I would fight this sloppily…’ Tsukuyomi chastised himself internally, his sorrowful demeanor resurging. He wanted to end the fight as soon as possible. And he seized the chance to do it at this very moment, he circled behind Wu and brought his foot round to Wu’s hip with melancholy vigor, knocking the empress to her knees, before using his momentum and full strength to swing his blade towards her exposed neck. But just in time, Wu fully recovered from her daze and hastily moved the sheath to stop her foe’s blade. Sparks flashed as Tsukuyomi’s arms trembled. Through the cool air, there was a small noise that resounded, a very distinct crack. As Tsukuyomi gazed up at the place where their blows met, his eyes blew wide with realization.
Where the wings of an Angel were engraved on the sheath, a light fracture began to emerge upon their midline. Sparks fell to the ground in mourning as a burst of emotion encompassed Tsukuyomi’s mind. His vision tunneled, staring solely at that fracture in horror. A shaky breath escaped him. ‘No, no! Father!’ He wished to turn to look through the castle windows at his father at this moment, but he could not let himself move. ‘I’m sorry…! I didn’t mean to—’
A sudden movement caught his eyes, and before he could resolve himself from his uncontrolled horror, Zetian struck at him ferociously. Spinning around as she rose to her feet, her arm arced towards him in a motion new to all in the arena, herself included- a newly created weapon of carnage. Her demonic eyes saw all of the world around her and how it could break, and her body itched to utterly crush it, her bones and muscles moving on their own. Zetian’s enhanced mind and ruthless battle instinct had combined in a stroke of sudden martial genius. The only thing left to do was to swing the weapon that they had given her. The Empress let out a battle cry to the heavens as Tsukuyomi attempted to retreat away, still looking at the cracks of the sheath as he raised his guard. And in that moment…the arm Tsukuyomi had thought unusable swung upwards at him, almost like a life-reaping sickle of flesh and blood, slicing through the air audibly and slipping right past his guard. The god of the moon gasped as his opponent grinned savagely.
WHITE TIGER’S ASSAULT
He tried to dodge backward- to block would be too risky. But even that wasn’t enough. Four claw marks tore Tsukuyomi’s clothes into pieces as they slashed into his chest and stomach, causing the moon god to cry out in shocked agony. Droplets of blood flew towards the face of the deranged mortal, which she licked from her cheek with a gleeful smile.
“Oh my!” Thoth gasped. “Zetian has unleashed a truly horrifying technique!”
The Wine God of Greece spoke out above the confused outrage, “How fancy~! It must have been the wind~ She attacked with such a concentrated force that the air itself sliced into Tsu-chan~ You can even see the cuts on the castle walls”
“Tsukuyomi!” cried out Izanami. Her eyes were wide and panicked. She took a deep breath and clutched the sides of her chair tightly, trembling for a moment.
Tsukuyomi cringed in pain as he looked back towards the horrible, blood-soaked beast before him. Its crimson eyes bore into his soul. “My my~ Perhaps I misjudged you.” It said mockingly as it turned off Demon Mind. “You are quite the skilled fighter yourself. Did your daddy teach you that as well?~”
The capricious mockery echoed throughout Tsukuyomi's very being. His bones recoiled in distress and his blood boiled. Yet his mind remained still. Was it enlightenment? Had he realized something? What had the young god come to understand?
Deep in the wilderness of Helheim…
Since his first venture into the underworld, it was clear to all that Tsukuyomi’s skills had truly blossomed. His blade’s movements were graceful, precise, and true, and the hazy light reflected off it had become just as elegant. Dim yet brilliant, shining gentle within each skillful strike. That was the beauty Tsukuyomi’s blade had achieved.
Yet today, the god of the moon saw no beauty in the light he had honed.
Below him lay a lifeless oni of Helheim, a great and feared devil, but to Tsukuyomi, little more than a milestone in his training. And now, yet another reason for him to be ashamed. Severe, deep, and decidedly inelegant gashes surrounded by ice covered the oni’s corpse, his face frozen forever in a twisted howl of agony. He had died with his eyes open. However, there was a twisted artistry to the slashes that had ended him- the crescent smoothness of those brutal slashes, the way they flowed into and around each other, visible even after the slaughter, had bloomed into a beautiful pattern of icy carnage.
This was what Tsukuyomi had trained for. This was the mastery he wanted to attain.
After all, he had finally managed to properly channel his light.
It was a moment he would remember forever. The moonlight had seared itself into his mind. The writhing, dying screams of the oni, the crackling of flesh, and the hollow sound of his blade striking true. When that massive, once-mighty corpse fell to the ground, his battle-tested club clattering to the ground beside him, Tsukuyomi only felt a rush of relief. Where had the adrenaline of victory gone? Had this been a battle, or an execution?
Tsukuyomi took a few deep breaths and sheathed his sword with a trembling arm, nearly cutting himself by accident, as if he couldn’t stand to look at it or away from the corpse. The reality that it was a weapon of war and not art was sobering. But this was his fault. Neither the blade or the light were stained with blood, rather, it was he who wielded them. He had destroyed instead of protecting, and caused another to die in agony. He had broken his promise, and over something as pitiful as his lack of mastery. For the first time in years, Tsukuyomi’s gentle heart began to ache and waver.
He buried the oni with his club before returning home.
The next day…
The winds of the mountaintop felt harsher than usual, howling like the wails of the damned. But Tsukuyomi simply ignored them. Again and again, without a moment of pause, he swung his radiant sword. The same combinations, the same movements, the same strikes, over and over, with moonlight coursing through each maddening repetition. His usual resolve had given way to almost manic determination. Izanami watched him silently. She had noticed the strange look in his eyes as soon as he’d returned from his battle, but trusting her son, had decided to give him some space to think. Perhaps he’d find some clarity during the day’s training.
Clarity, however, seemed farther away with each swing. Tsukuyomi’s eyes were almost bloodshot. He’d been training for hours before the break of dawn. Everything had melted away long ago, save for the blade and the reason he was swinging it. His own pure and immutable inadequacy. Even keeping a single promise was too much for him, something as simple as fighting to protect. His heart felt like it was about to burst. He couldn’t look away from his task. The oni’s body wouldn’t fade even if he did. He had to do this.
Especially since his father would be visiting later.
He continued to swing the sword. More light began to flow into it.
“I have to master myself.”
The howling wind, Izanami’s words, his own thoughts, they all became unclear white noise, the world drowning in the shine of his blade.
“Master myself.”
His eyes narrowed. He was fully focused. He started to swing faster, brighter. Ice was beginning to spread across his arm, but it didn’t slow him down for a moment.
“Come on. Master yourself.”
He swung the sword again and again. More ice crept through his arm. His sword was beginning to crack and shake. He wouldn’t stop.
“Master yourself, damnit!”
Even his own movements became nothingness to him. He didn’t notice the blinding white light forming around him, or the crystals that already coated his body, or the sword shattering into pieces, flying by and slicing him. It didn’t feel cold at all. It didn’t hurt. He didn’t hear Izanami crying out for him to stop.
“MASTER YOURSELF!”
And then, the world became white and radiant.
Since the beginning of creation, there had never been a moon in Helheim’s sky. The strange, eerie lights in the blood-red sky simply turned to darkness as the hours passed, with no true light ever coming in. That was the law of the realm itself.
But on this day, for ten shining, frightening minutes, moonlight shone down on the underworld.
It was nothing less than a light of calamity. A star of pure, radiant white hung in the sky, erratically, harshly forcing itself into a new form every moment, thrashing violently in the darkness. It was a crescent one moment, a shining fragment the next, and a full orb of deathly light immediately after. An unstable and beautiful calamity. With each sudden shift, wrathful moonlight rained upon the land. The howling tears of the moon fell to and razed the earth in a rain of disaster. Mountains, plains, forests, all were swallowed by that white and chaotic light. It was as if the heavens themselves were punishing the underworld.
This was the chaos that lay within an angel’s light. The light Tsukuyomi had so desperately wished for back then, and yet, hadn’t even begun to fathom. The light he had gained from his father. That sacred light, his greatest desire, was just the same as his blade: all his mastery and divinity given form, a beautiful, graceful, and glorious weapon of ruin.
It was a light that could never truly protect.
Those ten minutes of devastation eventually passed. The moon vanished, and Helheim’s sky returned to its natural gloom. Yet a single shining light remained within it. It slowly floated to the ground, almost gently so, and landed in front of Izanami’s surprisingly unharmed abode. She was waiting in the garden. Lucifer looked up towards her, as she immediately fell to her knees in front of him, tears in her eyes. His eyes twisted ever so slightly in guilt. She had been burned by light, his light, clearly after a struggle. She had done all she could to help.
“I’m sorry…I…I really tried, I shouldn’t have…and even you got hurt…”
Lucifer shook his head, unbothered by the frostbitten wounds on his scarred body. He hadn’t used his radiant armor for even a second, much less his weapon. He put a hand on Izanami’s head to calm her, as he had many times before.
“...Don’t worry about it. It can hardly be called an injury. And I couldn’t risk harming our son.”
The gentle coolness of his voice and the warmth of his hand slowly brought Izanami back to reality. She took a few deep breaths, before taking Tsukuyomi from Lucifer’s other arm. His body had no wounds, but he was clearly close to death, pale and haggard, as if drained of all light. The young god had utterly broken himself under his own light. Izanami almost sobbed looking at him. While Lucifer’s face remained mostly still, as he closed his eyes, the ruler of heaven felt the familiar, ever-present weight of utmost guilt…along with a slight tinge of fear.
Even now, millenia after the fall, with his supreme divine power and command over all of heaven, the greatest of angels still couldn’t protect a single boy. Those he loved and couldn’t save were still falling through the cracks, just as they had back then. It still wasn’t enough.
His, too, was a light that could never truly protect.
“...Take him inside, please. I’ll join you two in a moment.” Lucifer said. He gazed forlornly from the mountain’s edge, quietly observing the destruction his son had wrought upon Helheim. Izanami simply nodded and did as he asked. Right now was one of those moments when Lucifer needed to think alone. Lucifer turned his head briefly, and gave an almost regretful glance towards Tsukuyomi as he vanished behind the front door. It was in that moment that the mightiest among divinities offered a silent prayer for forgiveness.
“You haven’t failed, Tsukuyomi… You never did... As a father, a mentor, and a god…I’m the one who has failed you. The shame of weakness is mine alone to bear.”
He took a slight breath, and turned to join his family inside.
“I’m sorry for always being such a coward. I hope…that this serves as even the smallest compensation.”
Fastened at his hip was a beautiful sheath, adorned with two angelic wings and a jewel that glimmered like the moon.

Last year, I was fired for cause for “attitude” with regard to the company’s RTO policy. I had to take a huge step back both in responsibility- from F500 Network Eng, to an SA/helpdesk/maintenance man/wearer of all hats at a small, shitty family business - and in pay/vacation/benefits. I have between 5-10 years of experience (being a bit vague on purpose)
My question is, is my career still salvageable, and how long/to what extent will my firing be a permanent black mark/scarlet letter in regards to my career? Or will the step backwards hinder me more?

Current state of technology enables creating small and simple communication devices offering high level of privacy and security. A good example may be Meshtastic devices. However, a necessity to use smartphone (possibly infected with a spyware) may break both privacy and security. It would be much better if the text message could be entered on the Meshtastic device itself, and then have it encrypted internally before transmission. Unfortunately, most Meshtastic device do not offer a full keyboard. An option could be entering the text as a Morse code, using the key of capacitive pad. The Morse code however covers only a limited set of characters, and its knowledge in society is limited. Therefore, I'd like to propose another method for entering text. It is based on two digital inputs. They may be two capacitive pads, or a double paddle Morse key. Please note that I have developed the below described procedure from scratch. I have not investigated if similar procedures are implemented (or may be even patented?) by anybody. So if you would like to use it in a commercial product, please make the necessary investigations yourself.

What we may generate with two inputs?

Below I put the ASCII diagrams of possible events that we can send with two inputs. I mark low level (_) as "inactive" and high level (‾) as active. The inputs are marked as In1 and In2.

Event Wavevorfm E1 In1: __/‾‾\__ In2: ________ E2 In1: ________ In2: __/‾‾\__ E1i2 In1: ___/‾‾\___ In2: _/‾‾‾‾‾‾\_ E2i1 In1: _/‾‾‾‾‾‾\_ In2: ___/‾‾\___ E1f2 In1: _/‾‾‾‾\_____ In2: ____/‾‾‾‾\__ E2f1 In1: ____/‾‾‾‾\__ In2: _/‾‾‾‾\_____ 

So we have 6 elementary events: Event 1, Event 2, Event 1 in event 2, Event 2 in event 1, Event 1 followed by event 2, Event 2 followed by event 1. Each of them may be easily generated with two independent switches, two capacitive pads or double Morse paddle.
We may also generate more complex sequences, like:

Multiple E1i2: E1i2 In1: ___/‾‾\__/‾‾\__/‾‾\__/‾‾\__/‾‾\____ In2: _/‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾\__ Multiple E1i2 finished by E2f1: E1i2 In1: ___/‾‾\__/‾‾\__/‾‾\__/‾‾\__/‾‾‾‾\__ In2: _/‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾\____ Multiple E2i1 E1i2 In1: _/‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾\__ In2: ___/‾‾\__/‾‾\__/‾‾\__/‾‾\__/‾‾‾‾\__ Multiple E2i1 finished by E1f2: E1i2 In1: _/‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾\____ In2: ___/‾‾\__/‾‾\__/‾‾\__/‾‾\__/‾‾‾‾\__ 

Using of possible events for entering text.

First, with E1i2 and multiple E1i2 we may select an appropriate group of characters (for example we may have four groups: "upper case letters", "lower case letters", "digits", "special chracters").
Then, the selected group is split into two equal subgroups, and the first and last character of each subgroup is shown. Then the selected group is handled in the same way, until only one character is left. This character is then selected and added to the created message.
Below is the sample code showing the proposed procedure:

#!/usbin/python # The demonstration code for two-key character selection. # Written by Wojciech M. Zabołotny (wzab01@gmail.com) # This is a public domain code (under CC0 1.0 license) c=[] for i in range(ord('A'),ord('Z')+1): c.append(chr(i)) # We have three indices: # start, end, split start = 0 end = len(c) while True: split = (start + end) // 2 if start == split: # The character is already selected, print it print("Chosen:"+c[start]) break if split > start + 1: line = "["+c[start]+" "+c[split-1]+"]" else: line = "["+c[start]+"]" if split < end - 1: line += "["+c[split]+" "+c[end-1]+"]" else: line += "["+c[split]+"]" #print(start,split,end) print(line) sel = input("sel:") if sel == "1": end = split else: start = split 

Below is the process of selection of the K character.

$ python [A M][N Z] sel:1 [A F][G M] sel:2 [G I][J M] sel:2 [J K][L M] sel:1 [J][K] sel:2 Chosen:K 

Of course the user should be able to correct the character entered. That can bee achieved with E2i1 event. Double E2i1 event may be used to clear the whole text.
When the whole message is assembled, it may be sent with E1f2 event.
The above procedure does not use E2f1 event, which may be used to leave the whole procedure.

Example implementation

I don't have an implementation for microcontroller yet. A simple demo function with Python running on a PC and using numbers instead of the above events is shown below:

#!/usbin/python # The demonstration code for two-key character selection. # Written by Wojciech M. Zabołotny (wzab01@gmail.com) # This is a public domain code (under CC0 1.0 license) # Create groups of characters uc_letters=[] for i in range(ord('A'),ord('Z')+1): uc_letters.append(chr(i)) lc_letters=[] for i in range(ord('a'),ord('z')+1): lc_letters.append(chr(i)) digits=[] for i in range(ord('0'),ord('9')+1): digits.append(chr(i)) specs=list("\"\'{}[]!?@#$%^&*()-+=/\\,.<>") groups=[uc_letters, lc_letters, digits, specs] # Main loop # We have three indices: # start, end, split grnr=0 c=groups[grnr] start = 0 end = len(c) txt = "" while True: split = (start + end) // 2 if start == split: # The character is already selected, print it txt += c[start] start = 0 end = len(c) continue if split > start + 1: line = "["+c[start]+" "+c[split-1]+"]" else: line = "["+c[start]+"]" if split < end - 1: line += "["+c[split]+" "+c[end-1]+"]" else: line += "["+c[split]+"]" #print(start,split,end) print(txt) print(line) sel = input("1-1st half, 2-2nd half, 3-del char, 4-clear text, 5-send text, 6-next group:") if sel == "1": end = split elif sel == "2": start = split elif sel == "3": txt = txt[:-1] elif sel == "4": txt = txt[:-1] elif sel == "5": print("Transmitted msg:"+txt) txt = "" start = 0 end = len(c) elif sel == "6": grnr = (grnr + 1) % len(groups) c = groups[grnr] start = 0 end = len(c) else: print("Unknown key") 

I'll send a link to the microcontroller implementation as soon as it is ready.

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First Series Index Galactic Map State of War Map RoyalRoad Patreon Discord

MNS Oengro

“How’s the fuel status of the Oengro?” Grionc asked.
Vastae, eyes glued to his console, replied without hesitation. “We have just enough blink fuel for one jump, but we aren’t going anywhere once we get to the other side without a refueling ship.”
“One blink is all we need. And if the Oengro is good to go, the other, smaller ships should be fine too then,” Grionc responded, bringing up the system map on screen with her paws. “Four minutes to blink limit. Have the ship’s crew secure themselves for the blink and get ready for shift change to execute post-blink procedures when we arrive.”
“Yes, High Fleet Commander,” Vastae acknowledged with a brisk nod.
Suddenly, three quarters of the sensor readings on her sensor board disappeared, and the fidelity on the remaining took a nose-dive in accuracy. A low murmur ran through the sensor stations, which she waved away with a paw. “No need to panic. It looks like our friends jumped before we did, as arranged. Our sensors are on their own for now.”
Vastae swallowed hard. “Are you certain about this plan, High Fleet Commander?” Vastae asked nervously. “Not that I don’t trust what Sphinx— Speinfoent cooked up, but this is a last-minute plan modification we haven’t rehearsed. And with our fuel situation, we only get one chance here.”
Grionc put a calm smile on her face. “Remember that exercise we did with the Grass Eaters a while back?”
“Which one?”

4 months ago

“Since it’s New Years, it’s time to have some fun,” Mark announced with a grin to Grionc and the rest of the curious bridge crew. “I’m going to show you guys a fun teambuilding exercise we did on Terra.”
“Teambuilding exercise?” Grionc asked suspiciously.
Mark didn’t let her skepticism color his enthusiasm. “Well, I’m not sure how much teambuilding it does, but it is fun. And I have never seen aliens do it. In fact, this might be the first time this has ever been done outside of Sol!”
“Fine, fine. What are we doing?” she relented.
“This exercise is what we call the trust fall.”
“The trust fall?” Grionc repeated. “It’s about building trust? Like trust in your crew?”
Mark nodded vigorously. “It’s supposed to. I’m not sure if it truly works, but it truly is fun. You and I can demonstrate for the crew.”
Grionc sighed. “Sure. What do I do?”
“Come stand over here,” Mark pointed to a spot on the floor, and then stood in front of her with his back to her. “What I’m going to do is I’m going cross my arms… like this… and on the count of three, I’m going to fall backwards, and you have to catch me when I do.”
“Huh. That seems dangerous. What happens to you if I don’t catch you?” Grionc asked, mild concern creeping into her voice.
“Traumatic brain injury, probably. Something similar for your species too, I assume,” Mark shrugged nonchalantly. “But don’t worry about that. We have good medical facilities on the Nile, and you will catch me. That is the point of the exercise. Alright, you ready?”
Sensing his insistence, Grionc sighed and held her paws out, bracing herself. “Ready.”
“One, two, three…” Mark did as he described, crossing his arms, and falling backwards into Grionc’s outstretched arms. She grunted with slight effort as she intercepted his fall and then gently lowered him onto the ground, “Oomph. Huh. You Terrans are lighter than you look.”
“Yeah, my bones are nano-grafted,” Mark grinned, bounced up to full height, and circled around her back. “Okay, now it’s your turn.”
Grionc crossed her arms and held her breath for a moment. “One, two…”
She didn’t move. A few seconds later, she let go of her held breath. “I can’t.”
“What? Why not?”
Grionc muttered excuses. “No, it’s just— my tail— our balance mechanisms are different, I can’t just fall backwards on purpose—”
Mark insisted. “It’s not that difficult. Just let go. Don’t worry. I’m right here. I promise I’ll catch you.”
She held her breath once again, psyching herself up for a few more moments.
“One, two… doh, I can’t.”
Mark lightly patted her on the shoulder. “That’s okay… don’t worry… Hey, Speinfoent, come over here and give her a light shove. Alright, on the count of three. One, two—”
“Oh, no. Don’t you dare! No! Don’t touch— Yowwwwwww!”
Grionc continued, “And now… we fall. And we trust that our new friends will be there to catch us.”

ZNS 2228

“They’ve blinked,” the computer officer reported.
“Did we catch their blink vector?” Skvanu asked urgently.
“Calculating… got it! We triangulated their blink vector and probable destination! Entering it into our fleet navigation computers,” she responded, paws flying over the controls.
“How long before we can execute the blink?” Skvanu pressed.
“Two minutes before we hit the limit ourselves,” she replied, not looking up.
“Good, get the crews ready and start the countdown. I want to blink the millisecond we are clear of the system limit. And get all systems ready for what’s on the other side. They almost definitely have an ambush waiting for us. I’m guessing that’s where the remaining nine or so squadrons of Sixth Fleet are waiting for us,” Skvanu said confidently. “Twelve Lesser Predator squadrons to twenty-six of ours. Doesn’t matter how many upgrades they have, we will defeat them, especially since the first three will be within railgun range. Get those gunnery crews and point defense computers ready.”
“Blinking in seventy seconds,” she announced. “Sixty-five seconds—” Suddenly, she stood up, “Eight Whiskers, our FTL communications are open again! Both Datsot and Gruccud have just responded to our last message!”
Skvanu spun around to face her. “That makes sense. Whatever device they used to stop our communications must have been on one of the ships that just blinked out. Is there any priority intelligence from either?”
“Yes! Datsot has an emergency transmission for us. It’s from Ten Whiskers Ditvish!”
“What is it?” Skvanu asked, his voice serious.
She began to read. “Lesser Predators have entered Datsot system in force. Nine squadrons spotted so far. They may attempt to engage our garrison force there… His guidance is that we return immediately to trap these aggressor ships, but leaves the decision up to you…”
Skvanu absorbed the information with shock. If those ships are really in Datsot, they must not be on the other side of wherever the Oengro is blinking. And with that context, this now smelled exactly like a planned trap.
He thought out loud. “This must be what the Lesser Predators planned from the start. If we chase, we have no idea what they have on the other side. There may be refueling ships. They may have already gotten away. By the Prophecy, they may even be sacrificing three squadrons to get us to blink through a singularity or anomaly. But wait… If we return to Datsot immediately, we might catch those squadrons split from the rest of their ships and cripple their fleet!”
Having made up his mind, he shouted urgently at the navigation station, “Navigation, hold the blink!”
“Halting the blink procedures.”
“A handful of ships have already completed the blink!” the computer officer reported, almost in a panic.
“Cease blink procedures! Fleet-wide, cease the blink!”
The order went out immediately, and it was a testament to the discipline of the Znosian Navy that most squadrons managed to stop the countdown just seconds before it went through.
“How many ships went through?” Skvanu asked urgently.
“We managed to stop most of our ships, Eight Whiskers. Only five combat ships from Squadron 6 went through.”
He sighed in relief. “Only the Prophecy can help them now… Turn us around. Let’s get back to Datsot.”

TRNS Nile

“I think we are in sufficiently deep space,” Captain Gregor Guerrero said to his crew. “Drop us out.”
“Yes, captain. Emergency drop-out in five… four… three… two… one… now.”
The ship shuddered and creaked as the emergency-stop was activated. The blink engine wound down, forcing the ship back into normal space.
Gregor turned to his navigation officer. “How far from Plaunsollib did we travel, in regular space?”
“Two months on their Alcubierre drives if they combat burn with all their fuel. Four if they plan on stopping,” she replied immediately. “They’d be going too fast to aerobrake anyway.”
“Good,” Guerrero said, gluing his eyes to his sensor board. Ships in FTL are difficult to detect, even on gravidar, but the state-of-the-art technology on the Nile gave them a few seconds of warning.
A few seconds later, the sensor officer’s voice cut through the tense silence. “I’ve spotted the Puppers in blink! All of them, tight formation. They’ll pass us in about fifteen seconds.”
Guerrero nodded his pleasure. “Good, let them pass. Tell me when they’re out of range.”
The seconds ticked by. “Ten… five… they’ve passed our position… and now they’re out of range.”
“Now, switch on the blink disruption field,” he ordered.
The hum of the ship’s ambient noise went up an octave, signaling maximum power drain as the ship’s thirstiest system kicked in.
Gregor looked at his information panel. “Full emissions control. EMCOM Alpha. Deploy the FTL jammer drone and then shut off our engines. If things go well, we’re about to be joined by half the fucking Bunny Navy in a minute.”
“Aye, Captain. EMCOM Alpha.” The rest of the crew nodded, working their controls with practiced competence.
“Jammer drone out. You think they’ve got wild weasels, captain?”
“Unlikely, but we take no chances. If they don’t…” He shrugged. “… we’ll just get our drone back later.”
A tense minute passed, then the sensor officer reported, “Captain, Znosian ships spotted on gravidar! Two… three… five in total… They’ve just been forced out of blink.”
“Five squadrons?”
“No, Captain, five ships.”
Gregor furrowed his brow, surprised, and took another glance at his console. “Only five ships?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alright, keep the disruption field up, and analyze the drive signatures on them. Maybe one of them is this Skvanu guy we’re supposed to hit,” he speculated hopefully.
After half an hour, Guerrero finally called it quits. “No more guests are showing up. Looks like they must have wizened up at the last moment.”
“Aye, sir,” the executive officer said, shaking her head in disappointment as well. “It was a good plan. Could have stranded their whole fleet out here.”
“Well, bad luck— these things happen in war, Lieutenant. Don’t worry. We’ll get them next time. How are the guests we did get doing?”
“Out of blink fuel, as expected. They’ve been dumping cargo in an organized fashion. I think they’re planning to see if they can reach Plaunsollib with their subspace drives in a reasonable amount of time and call triple A.” Then, she asked, “Where do you think the rest run off to?”
“Probably Datsot,” Guerrero guessed. “Phone Sphinx and tell him he’s probably got the whole shit storm heading his way, ETA about a couple days. Get the estimates to him.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, we just need to silence the witnesses so we can use this trick again. Bridge to CIC: let’s keep it simple. One Kestrel for each of the targets. We’ll swiss-cheese them with railguns after. Just in case.”
“Aye, Captain. We’re not dropping off those TRO drones here, are we?”
“Nah. Too much work. No one is finding these guys ever again anyway.”

MNS Trassau

“I just got off a call with the Nile,” Loenda announced. “Looks like the Grass Eaters have discovered our ruse in the other system. The main enemy fleet is heading our way right this second.”
Speinfoent sighed, and suggested, “If we burn closer for just half a day more—”
“No more,” Loenda declared. “We are already risking nine squadrons coming this far into the Datsot system limit.”
“Alright,” Speinfoent agreed reluctantly. “We can still give them a present they won’t forget any time soon.”
“That, we will. That we will.” Loenda turned to her console. “All ships in Battlegroup 2, dump your payloads as quietly as you can. Then wait half an hour to change your vector and make your way to the system blink limit.”
“Yes, Battlegroup Commander.”

ZNS 1841

“Ten Whiskers, the Lesser Predators are turning around,” the computer officer declared, doing her best to hide her relief.
“What? Where are they heading now?” Ditvish asked, confounded.
“Towards the shortest path to the system blink limit, I think.”
“That’s it? They’re just leaving now?”
“Combat computer speculates that they might have seen that Eight Whiskers Skvanu is heading back to Datsot, so they are breaking off the attack,” the officer offered.
“That’s… not very Lesser Predator of them, but very logical,” he admitted. “They must have realized their plan failed and are now cutting their losses.”
He didn’t mention that his fleet was the one that came out behind, losing yet another precious supply convoy and then sending the whole combat fleet on a wild predator chase for nothing. That State Security goon might start to become a problem if he didn’t spin this well in his after-action report.
A few hours later, a foreboding feeling coloring his mood, he ordered, “Sensors, boost our radars towards where they changed vectors. I want to check to see if they dropped any drones or traps.”
“Yes, Ten Whiskers.”
The 1841 boosted its radar towards the direction, blaring out signals on maximum strength and—
“Incoming… missiles? Ten Whiskers, many missiles! Dozens! Over a hundred! They’re well within our minimum abort range!”
“By the Prophecy!” Ditvish exclaimed. “All ships, execute combat burn away from them! Countermeasures and fire counter-missiles, at the ready! Track those missiles!”
Fortunately, the garrison fleet was still in high readiness from before. Their engines were ready to light up to full acceleration immediately.
Unfortunately, the missiles were already close. In desperation, his ships began dumping their entire loads of radar chaffs and flares into space behind them as they maneuvered away from the threat. Counter-missiles sped out of their tubes towards their rear, relying on their motherships’ sensors and radars to find the tiny alien missiles for them to engage.
Quietly gliding through space towards the enemy on inertia inherited from their motherships was the sizable swarm of Terran-made missiles. Obsolete for military purpose in Sol but still produced for the civilian and gray market, they were an easy addition on the TRO’s shopping list. Vast quantities of them had found their way into various shell corporations and dead drops all over Sol, then onto hastily constructed exterior pylons on Sixth Fleet ships.
While they were indeed several times outside of the maximum effective range of the Znosian ships at launch, missiles technically did have unlimited ballistic ranges in space — if their enemies were not moving and they did not need to constantly fire their thrusters to adjust course. Relying on a short first burn and then inertia, they flew most of the way towards the stationary enemy fleet completely undetected. By the time they were spotted, it was too late; the Znosians were well within their effective ranges.
Their intelligence chips might not have been super-Terran state-of-the-art computers, but the Pigeons had no problem realizing that they were discovered. They had been tracking the enemy targets using passive infrared sensors that did not alert enemy threat sensors to their presence. But the second that the targets started dropping flares to blind them, they activated their primitive late twenty-first century radars and homed in onto the priority targets they’d been given. Their main thrusters began their burns, adjusting their vectors to intercept the now-finally-moving enemy ships.
Then, they saw the incoming counter-missiles — fired by the enemies sporadically, obviously in panic.
The makers of the Pigeons might not have bothered to include next-generation electronic dazzlers on them, but penetration aid on missiles had been standard in Terran warfare for a century. They littered the space they were in with chaff and their own bright flares, coordinating with the other missiles in the area with short range laser communication to ensure that none in the swarm would confuse or disrupt each other.
The Znosian counter-missiles were certainly confused and disrupted though. Many veered off into phantom signals. Some lucky ones did manage to find their targets. When a few of their comrades dropped off their impromptu mesh net, the Pigeons constantly corresponded with laser communications to re-prioritize their targeting.
At the top of the list was the fattest, easiest target of them all: the enemy flagship 1841.
Seconds before impact, the missiles finalized their targets, and they spent every drop and fume of their remaining fuel on terminal maneuvers.
The Znosians’ close in weapons systems had milliseconds to engage the incoming threats. They performed admirably… for trying to deal with this unknown alien threat for the first time. A couple dozen more missiles were plucked out of space, but it was not enough.
Not nearly.
The rest slipped through the net.
Miraculously, the 1841 managed to survive initially. Despite it being the primary focus of the Pigeon mob, the other ships did their best to shield its most vital components in its rear with their own point defense. And the Pigeons — like most missiles of its era — were loaded with just enough firepower to destroy much smaller Terran ships. The larger hulls of the Znosian ships gave their obsolete mid-century intelligence chips a slightly more interesting exercise in module identification and targeting.
The massive Thorn-class battleship took fourteen hits to varying systems that the missiles visually identified as “that looks pretty important” on their final approach: its primary missile and gun tubes were trashed, venting atmosphere to space in those compartments. A proximity hit near the stern took out four of its eight massive main thrusters and several system modules at the rear of the ship. And perhaps worst of all, one Pigeon managed to zero in on its vulnerable front bridge, the explosion emptying its contents and occupants into vacuum.
Luckily for Ten Whiskers Ditvish, none of them hit the armored flag bridge where he was in the belly of the ship, vindicating the Znosian Navy’s practice of separating the two for redundancy.
Nonetheless, Ditvish fell to the ground as the simultaneous impacts temporarily overloaded the inertial compensators and shook the ship to its core. Sparks flew around him, and he smelled a pungent stink as the automated fire suppression systems kicked in to save as much as they possibly could.
He slowly climbed to his feet and looked at the scene around him. A sensor officer was spraying foam at a small fire with a handheld device, successfully extinguishing it in seconds. Several other of his crew were recovering and returning to their stations with remarkable calm. After all, they were elite, well-trained spacers and officers of the Znosian Navy.
Ditvish did the same, propping himself back into his command chair with slight effort. He operated his console in a concussed daze. One glance at the status board told him that the 1841 was a write-off. It wasn’t going to be combat effective ever again. At least its life pod systems were working, and he watched in relief as dozens then hundreds of crew members in the damaged sections of the ship climbed into theirs and ejected into the relative safety of vacuum.
He checked up on the other ships: several others were hit. Six had outright detonated: no survivors nor signals came from them. Two were irreparably damaged, their remaining crews also abandoning their ships in an orderly fashion. And another six had visible fires or scorch marks on their damaged hulls, but those crews were still valiantly fighting to keep their ships alive.
Ditvish noticed that the missile didn’t go for all his ships, just the ones on the outer edge on his sensor board— wait, the missiles—
To his horror, several more dozen missiles they’d detected were still active, and they were going for—
He looked at his computer officer’s station and yelled, “We have to warn them!”
She yelled something back at him, but he realized that he couldn’t hear her. Hitting the floor must have injured his hearing organs. He yelled again, hoping that she could still hear. “Warn the orbital support fleet! The logistics and fire support ships! Evasive maneuvers and take cover in the atmosphere!”
Her lips moved again. He got out of his chair and stumbled over to her in a daze, trying to hear what she was saying.
She was saying something.
It must be important.
“… not reach them. Our communication array… destroyed! Ten Whiskers, we need to get… We don’t have much time!”
Ditvish finally understood her from reading her lips. He didn’t respond. Just numbly watched the planetary battlemap of Datsot on the main screen.
It didn’t take long. They were completely defenseless.
The remaining missiles plucked every last orbital fire support and logistics transport ship out of the skies of Datsot. Most detonated; a few left behind trails of black smoke as they sank uncontrollably towards the planet’s surface.
Then, Ditvish’s hind legs gave out and he crumpled onto the bridge floor.
He was dimly aware of one of his subordinates dragging him towards the bridge escape pod as he blacked out.

MNS Trassau

“Don’t worry, Speinfoent,” Loenda said, putting her paws around the junior commander looking glumly at the image of Datsot retreating from their view as the rest of the bridge cheered the better-than-anticipated success of the raid. “We’ll come back, and next time, we’re coming back for everything.”
“That we will, Loenda. That we will.”

Meta

There is no research that shows the effectiveness of trust falls for building trust in a team and plenty of research showing that falling backwards from a full standing position without adequate bracing or padding can lead to serious brain, spinal, and back injuries.
Coercion or retaliation against Malgeir employees who refuse to participate in trust fall exercises may be considered investigable or actionable violations of workplace safety regulations by the Republic Office of Occupational Safety or anti-discrimination regulations by the Office of Equal Opportunity.
Whistleblowers are entitled to up to 25% of monetary penalties recovered. If you see something, say something.
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Chapter 53: Apostasy

Disclaimer:This was made in the span of 3 days. I would have posted here daily if I had remembered that this subReddit exists.
Part 1(Monday):
I met my crush when I was in high-school. I was 13 and she was 14. When I set eyes on her, I knew that she was the one for me. Her reflective skin was like gold waiting to be rubbed and loved. Her luminous eyes were like marbles designed for gazers. Her hair was like a sari, but as soft as silk, waiting to infatuate onlookers who fall in its honey-sweet trap. An example of the above is me.
2 years later, this infatuation still encrusted me. I was in Class XI, and we were studying to obtain Indian Secondary Certificate. Although it is exacting on us, we still have the time to appreciate our boons. I did so via writing a love letter, and presenting it to her. Today, I found out that I had left it at home, despite fatiguing on it. I was devastated. However, I replicated it while pooping on the toilet at the double.
I gave it to my crush, and then, due to being overwrought, ran away from her, hyperventilating, laughing, and crying at the same time. Unfortunately, she just said thanks to me at reccess. I was devastated. However, when I went home, I was taken out of the frying pan into the fire. My mother had discovered the original love letter.
She told me that she found it in my bag, and that we were going to read it together. I was in the most calamitous set of circumstances I had been in my entire life. Fortunately, her phone started ringing in the adjacent room, leading her to retrieve it and communicate to the other person. I darted towards the paper and vehemently did the needful. However, I froze in trepidation when I heard the voice of my crush's father's at the other end of the landline. However, since he works in a scam-centre, he just wanted to scam my mother.
When she finished rebuking him, she came back to the drawing room, where she had reserved my love letter. When pursuing it and interrogating me about its whereabouts, she was replied to via bewildered faces and expressions with a lack of fear. However, she grew tired of pursuing its whereabouts, and therefore, left the room. However, I believe that she has seen it, as they uncrumpled it and left it neatly folded on our bookshelf, which fills me with terror.
Part 2(Tuesday):
I met my crush when I was in high-school. I was 13 and she was 14. When I set eyes on her, I knew that she was the one for me. Her reflective skin was like gold waiting to be rubbed and loved. Her luminous eyes were like marbles designed for gazers. Her hair was like a sari, but as soft as silk, waiting to infatuate onlookers who fall in its honey-sweet trap. An example of the above is me.
I decided to test my valour via generating and sending a love letter to her. Unfortunately, at the time, she just said 'Thanks', which had left me devastated. Moreso, I had to duplicate my letter while pooping out biryani I ate on Sunday, in the highschool toilet, since my mother had stolen my original letter. I thought I did the needful to destroy it. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, which caused my letter to be found by my father.
My father was about to beat me with his belt, which was the worst thing that could happen to a 16 year old Indian teenager. However, fortunately, somebody in uaeteenagers gave me advice, which I used. I dissembled my stories and weaved a lie that states that my friend dared me to give my crush a love letter, and that I was not in love with her, which persuaded my father that I was not in need of a thrasing.
I was relieved, and to make my amygdala, my insula, my insular cortex, and my periaqueductal gray even more elated, she had put a love letter in my bag that apologised for her lacklustre response towards me. She has requested a date that will be taking place tomorrow, and since my parents will be out, of the house, I saw eye to eye with her metaphorically, to ensure that we could literally see eye to eye with each other tomorrow.
I am currently, very elated by this, and am thrilled by a new experience that I will be experiencing. Until now, the only acquaintance with dates I had seen so far were in Hollywood pictures, which cater to a western audience, and therefore, until now, have led me to believe that us Indians cannot get dates due to our conservative nature. However, I was proven wrong, and will extract the moral of the impossible being possible from this memorable episode.
Part 3(Wednesday):
I met my crush when I was in high-school. I was 13 and she was 14. When I set eyes on her, I knew that she was the one for me. Therefore, I valiantly and strenuously, produced a love letter and delivered it to my crush. She was elated by this, and made me elated as well, via inviting me on a date with her. I contentedly to do so, not knowing the consequences of the tragic decision I made.
Today, at 18:00, which is half an hour after I reach my house, I get prepared to go on the date and dazzle her, leaving my house abandoned. To my ginormous shock, she had apparently booked a taxi for me. I live in Dubai. My house was in Al Furjan, while our date was in Motor City, which resulted in a mere half-an-hour journey As I diffidently walked up to the restaurant, I was greeted with a ghastly sight.
She had arrived, but not alone. Her entire family was with her, from her parents, to her elder brother, to her extended family, including her grandparents, uncles, and aunties. They began bombarding me with questions such as my grades in different subjects. However, I had a notable concern:As with most Indian parents, her parents were averse to love, and believed in arranged marriages, similar to mine. There was only one way out, and it was of an execrable nature.
With a heavy heart, I began to rip the most stentorian, malodorous and most fervent fart I had released in my entire life. It had now reverberated towards the now tumultuous room. Amidst all the pandemonium, I escaped from there, and with the permission of a stranger, took another taxi back to my house in Al Furjan, where I would be unscarred from the danger of both my parents' potential revelation, and the disapprobation of the family of my crush.
I am now typing this amidst a stream of tears and a heavy heart. However, I have now learnt sacrifice, and that bitter truth that life would be blemished in one way or another, for example, in this case, either via the revelation of my parents, the disapprobation of the family of my crush, and sacrificing my potential wife. However, this is something that can neither be concealed in y hippocampus, nor my amygdala, which results in me sharing this.
(Please speak in English. I don't know Hindi.)

Disclaimer:This was made in the span of 3 days. I would have posted here daily of it weren't for the restriction of relationship posts to be only on Wednesday.
Part 1(Monday):
I met my crush when I was in high-school. I was 13 and she was 14. When I set eyes on her, I knew that she was the one for me. Her reflective skin was like gold waiting to be rubbed and loved. Her luminous eyes were like marbles designed for gazers. Her hair was like a sari, but as soft as silk, waiting to infatuate onlookers who fall in its honey-sweet trap. An example of the above is me.
2 years later, this infatuation still encrusted me. I was in Class XI, and we were studying to obtain Indian Secondary Certificate. Although it is exacting on us, we still have the time to appreciate our boons. I did so via writing a love letter, and presenting it to her. Today, I found out that I had left it at home, despite fatiguing on it. I was devastated. However, I replicated it while pooping on the toilet at the double.
I gave it to my crush, and then, due to being overwrought, ran away from her, hyperventilating, laughing, and crying at the same time. Unfortunately, she just said thanks to me at reccess. I was devastated. However, when I went home, I was taken out of the frying pan into the fire. My mother had discovered the original love letter.
She told me that she found it in my bag, and that we were going to read it together. I was in the most calamitous set of circumstances I had been in my entire life. Fortunately, her phone started ringing in the adjacent room, leading her to retrieve it and communicate to the other person. I darted towards the paper and vehemently did the needful. However, I froze in trepidation when I heard the voice of my crush's father's at the other end of the landline. However, since he works in a scam-centre, he just wanted to scam my mother.
When she finished rebuking him, she came back to the drawing room, where she had reserved my love letter. When pursuing it and interrogating me about its whereabouts, she was replied to via bewildered faces and expressions with a lack of fear. However, she grew tired of pursuing its whereabouts, and therefore, left the room. However, I believe that she has seen it, as they uncrumpled it and left it neatly folded on our bookshelf, which fills me with terror.
Part 2(Tuesday):
I met my crush when I was in high-school. I was 13 and she was 14. When I set eyes on her, I knew that she was the one for me. Her reflective skin was like gold waiting to be rubbed and loved. Her luminous eyes were like marbles designed for gazers. Her hair was like a sari, but as soft as silk, waiting to infatuate onlookers who fall in its honey-sweet trap. An example of the above is me.
I decided to test my valour via generating and sending a love letter to her. Unfortunately, at the time, she just said 'Thanks', which had left me devastated. Moreso, I had to duplicate my letter while pooping out biryani I ate on Sunday, in the highschool toilet, since my mother had stolen my original letter. I thought I did the needful to destroy it. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, which caused my letter to be found by my father.
My father was about to beat me with his belt, which was the worst thing that could happen to a 16 year old Indian teenager. However, fortunately, somebody in uaeteenagers gave me advice, which I used. I dissembled my stories and weaved a lie that states that my friend dared me to give my crush a love letter, and that I was not in love with her, which persuaded my father that I was not in need of a thrasing.
I was relieved, and to make my amygdala, my insula, my insular cortex, and my periaqueductal gray even more elated, she had put a love letter in my bag that apologised for her lacklustre response towards me. She has requested a date that will be taking place tomorrow, and since my parents will be out, of the house, I saw eye to eye with her metaphorically, to ensure that we could literally see eye to eye with each other tomorrow.
I am currently, very elated by this, and am thrilled by a new experience that I will be experiencing. Until now, the only acquaintance with dates I had seen so far were in Hollywood pictures, which cater to a western audience, and therefore, until now, have led me to believe that us Indians cannot get dates due to our conservative nature. However, I was proven wrong, and will extract the moral of the impossible being possible from this memorable episode.
Part 3(Wednesday):
I met my crush when I was in high-school. I was 13 and she was 14. When I set eyes on her, I knew that she was the one for me. Therefore, I valiantly and strenuously, produced a love letter and delivered it to my crush. She was elated by this, and made me elated as well, via inviting me on a date with her. I contentedly to do so, not knowing the consequences of the tragic decision I made.
Today, at 18:00, which is half an hour after I reach my house, I get prepared to go on the date and dazzle her, leaving my house abandoned. To my ginormous shock, she had apparently booked a taxi for me. I live in Dubai. My house was in Al Furjan, while our date was in Motor City, which resulted in a mere half-an-hour journey As I diffidently walked up to the restaurant, I was greeted with a ghastly sight.
She had arrived, but not alone. Her entire family was with her, from her parents, to her elder brother, to her extended family, including her grandparents, uncles, and aunties. They began bombarding me with questions such as my grades in different subjects. However, I had a notable concern:As with most Indian parents, her parents were averse to love, and believed in arranged marriages, similar to mine. There was only one way out, and it was of an execrable nature.
With a heavy heart, I began to rip the most stentorian, malodorous and most fervent fart I had released in my entire life. It had now reverberated towards the now tumultuous room. Amidst all the pandemonium, I escaped from there, and with the permission of a stranger, took another taxi back to my house in Al Furjan, where I would be unscarred from the danger of both my parents' potential revelation, and the disapprobation of the family of my crush.
I am now typing this amidst a stream of tears and a heavy heart. However, I have now learnt sacrifice, and that bitter truth that life would be blemished in one way or another, for example, in this case, either via the revelation of my parents, the disapprobation of the family of my crush, and sacrificing my potential wife. However, this is something that can neither be concealed in y hippocampus, nor my amygdala, which results in me sharing this.
(Please speak in English. I don't know Hindi.)

Author’s Note:
If you enjoy the story so far, please consider upvoting and commenting! These go a long way in helping the story reach a larger audience. (Also, reddit removes all my formatting for some reason so if you want a fully formatted read, check out my story on RoyalRoad)
READ 2 WEEKS AHEAD: Season Finale Chapter 17 is now available for Tier 2 Manifest Fantasy Patrons and higher!
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First
Three, two, one... execute.
Ron peeked around the corner, his M4E1 Carl Gustaf already loaded with standard HEAT rounds. The rest of Alpha Team stacked up behind him or behind Ryan, who was on the other side of the doorway. Through the opening, they could see a nightmarish tangle of webs and egg sacs, with the skittering shapes of Spiranids lurking in the shadows in the far corners of the room.
The Queen was positioned in the center of the room, completely exposed by a cluster of eggs. Henry watched as Ron leveled his Gustaf, taking aim at the Queen while they stayed along the wall to ensure Ron’s backblast was clear. It should have been an easy kill, but a flicker of movement caught Henry’s eye.
A blob of white flew across his vision, smacking into Ron just as he fired his weapon. The thick strands of webbing bypassed Kelmithus’ shielding and wrapped around him, sending him flying back a couple of meters. He landed on his back, his body and launcher completely stuck to the floor by the condensed silk.
Around the same time, the Gustaf’s projectile struck the Queen’s abdomen section. The resulting blast tore through its exoskeleton but was far from a fatal blow. The Queen shrieked, a sound far deeper than Henry expected.
“Fuck!” Ron shouted, struggling to break free from the webbing.
Henry exhaled. They were a man down, but helping him had to wait; the not-dead Queen and its minions took precedence. It would be great if he had another launcher in his own Holding Bag, but that was something he’d have to bring up to Chief Cole later. Henry tossed his grenades into the room, the pops mingling with the screeches of injured Spiranids. Ryan struck simultaneously, throwing his own collection into the mix. Like firecrackers, the explosives were violent but short-lived.
As the chaos subsided, Henry pushed in. Raising his shotgun, he tore through a Spiranid that pounced at him, its carcass smoldering from the white phosphorous. Beside him, Isaac, Ryan, and Dr. Anderson’s shots rang out, tearing through their own sectors of fire.
Almost immediately upon their entry, the Queen surged forward with terrifying speed. It reared its head back like it was about to vomit, mandibles covered in a sick, yellowish color. Henry recognized immediately what it was trying to do. “Acid, move!”
Henry dove away from his previous position, taking a shot at another Spiranid that had taken the opportunity to jump at him while its master was preparing to attack. He narrowly escaped the lethal spray as it jetted toward him. The acid splattered on the ground where they had stood not even a second before, sizzling fiercely as it corroded the thick webbing sprawled across the floor. He noticed as he ran that, rather curiously, the acid was simply puddling on the floor. There was no damage to the floor itself, but if it could tear apart high-quality monster silk just like that, he didn’t want to find out what it could do to an envirosuit.
Henry glanced back after blasting apart his third Spiranid. His teammates were fine – Ryan helping him keep the Queen’s attention, Sera already on her way to Ron, and the others taking care of the smaller Spiranids. He tried to get a quick headcount of how many Spiranids they’d already eliminated. Between their guns, Kelmithus’ magic, and the grenades, he estimated they had killed at least a dozen so far. Solid progress, but the fact that they weren’t able to take out the Queen with their first strike was an issue.
Henry rolled to his left as the Queen pounced on his previous position. It was fucking fast, like a Goliath birdeater but scaled up – and with nasty abilities that really shouldn’t belong on a creature like this. He recovered quickly and took aim, firing point-blank into its thorax. The white phosphorous pellets hissed as they burned into its exoskeleton, forcing it back.
Beside him, Ryan’s shotgun boomed. He struck the Queen’s legs, which seemed to be more fragile than the thick exoskeleton surrounding the head and thorax. The pellets bit into the chitin, likely striking a nerve as evidenced by the leg’s subsequent buckling and collapse. It was a lucky shot – one that he doubted they could repeat four or five more times.
“Sera, use my knife! Here, right here!” Ron called out.
Sera’s sword must’ve been too large to effectively cut through the webbing. They had to hurry up. He and Ryan had been dodging the Queen’s attacks, but mostly by a hair’s breadth. All it took was one lucky hit from the Queen to put them out of commission, possibly for good. “Sera, status on Ron?”
“One minute!” she responded.
Damn. That was one minute later than he’d hoped. Reacting instinctively, Henry noted the Queen raising one of its legs – a sure sign of it preparing for another attack. The Queen struck again, this time cleaving the air with the leg, aiming to corral him into a predictable escape route. As its leg swept through the air, Henry caught sight of the Queen rearing its head back in a grotesque mimicry of a snake about to strike – another acid attack.
Anticipating the monster’s strategy, Henry feinted to the right, a move he hoped would mislead it about his true intentions. As the Queen’s head followed his feint, Henry twisted sharply, scraping against the rough ground. With a powerful push from his legs, he launched backward just as the Queen unleashed its attack.
Acid spewed forth in a wide arc, splattering where he had just been. The corrosive globs almost instantly melted the webbing on the floor, collecting into pools. And there was the second issue. The longer this fight dragged on, the less room they’d have to maneuver.
Henry unloaded into the creature’s compound eyes before tossing a flashbang near its legs. The creature staggered backward, blinded in both its eyes and its sensory hairs. Henry used the precious few seconds he bought to reload his weapon and check up on his team. “Yen, sitrep?”
“Stragglers neutralized; we’re moving to you now.”
Automatic gunfire erupted as Isaac and Dr. Anderson joined the fight against the Queen, dumping their mags on the creature’s head. The 6.8mm seemed to penetrate well, but he could say the same if they fought an elephant; the Spiranid Queen was simply too large for the relatively small caliber rounds to have any effect besides pissing it off.
The Queen lunged again, its legs surrounding him from all sides. There was only one way out, and it was through the belly of the beast. Henry rushed forward, ducking under the Queen’s mandibles as he slid underneath its abdomen. He fired his shotgun as quickly as he could, unloading pellets into the beast’s underbelly. The white phosphorous scorched the softer flesh, drawing a shriek of pain from the massive creature.
As the Queen writhed under the relentless assault, Ryan and the others seized the moment to reload their weapons and reposition. They poured everything they had into the creature’s cephalothorax, bluish ichor oozing from the hundreds of new wounds that they opened up. Yet, it was like chipping away at a mountain – it simply wasn’t enough. The creature thrashed around violently in response; Henry knew it was only a matter of time before it landed a hit on someone.
And land a hit it did. With a terrifying swiftness, one of its massive legs slammed into Henry’s chest, launching him backward. The shield Kelmithus cast on him flickered as it absorbed the brunt of the impact. He crashed into an egg sac by the entrance – its membrane ruptured on impact, drenching him in a sticky, corrosive slime. The sac provided little cushion, and he hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him.
Pain flared across Henry’s chest where the Queen’s leg had struck him. Gasping for breath and battling the encroaching blackness in his vision, he instinctively checked his envirosuit. He started with the areas he could see, glancing down at his chest. It was visibly deformed, dented but not quite a gash.
Still intact, thank goodness. No breach, but another hit like that would be disastrous. He breathed a sigh of relief, his chest hurting like hell as he did so. He checked his sides and back. Parts of his suit were covered in slime from the egg sac. It didn’t seem as corrosive as the Queen’s acid, but it was still a hazard. Quickly, he swiped at it, removing as much as possible with his gloved hands to prevent further damage.
He forced himself up, grabbing his shotgun from the floor. The Queen was already barreling toward him, the damn monster not letting up. He didn’t have time to make a run for it; he needed to jump to one side or the other, and the timing needed to be perfect. Just as the Queen’s shadow engulfed him, the air turned icy cold, frost creeping up on his visor.
Ice formed from thin air, spearing up from the ground and piercing through the Queen’s legs. The spikes rooted the beast in place. Not one to waste an opportunity, Henry dashed away from the entrance, firing at the immobilized giant spider as he linked up with the others.
“Sera?” Henry asked again.
Sera’s voice came in strained. “Almost…” Then, with a triumphant shout, she announced the word Henry had been desperate to hear. “Done!”
“Owens!” Henry said, risking a glance back.
Ron had already grabbed his Gustaf and was in the process of loading another HEAT round. “On it!”
Henry grinned. It was a relief, to be sure. With Ron free and back in the fight, the odds had just tipped heavily in their favor. The Queen was tough, but it wasn’t invincible; they just needed an opening.
Given the damage the Queen sustained to its body, Henry couldn’t imagine it being in peak fighting condition. Even in its weakened state, though, it still had the capability to dodge Ron’s attack, and it seemed to be saving its web ability for that very inevitability.
“Take out the legs!” Henry ordered.
They combined their fire on the left legs, since Ryan managed to break one of them earlier. He heard a crack that might’ve been the chitin giving way or the leg snapping, but it was hard to tell. He was just about to chalk it up to the prevailing gunfire around them, but then he saw it: a brief stumble. The Queen recovered quickly, but it was clear to Henry that it wouldn’t be able to manage any more damage to its legs.
Then, he noticed a blur in his peripheral vision to his right, moving so fast his eyes could barely keep up. Shit, he was certain he kept track of the Queen’s movements. With the existing damage to his envirosuit, he’d be completely fucked. He braced himself for another impact, but it never came.
As he focused harder on the blur, he caught a glimpse of a flash of light that could only be one thing – Sera’s sword, And, just like a flash of lightning, she had already cleared the vicinity of the Queen. The Queen’s foreleg seemed to simply vanish, severed so cleanly that it took a moment for the beast to realize what had happened. When it did, it let out a screech of pain, its balance faltering as it tried to adapt to the sudden change.
While Henry focused on taking out another leg from the left side, Sera had already shifted to her next target. Their assault was brutal: white phosphorus pellets and hard-hitting 6.8mm on one side, ice magic and skilled swordsmanship on the other. And to think, they managed to inflict all this damage by the time Ron completed his reload.
“Clear the way!” Ron called out, his Gustaf aimed right at the Queen’s head.
Henry jumped back, watching as Kelmithus conjured another set of ice spikes to root the beast again, in case the five obliterated legs weren’t enough to keep it down. The Queen thrashed against the icy bonds, its remaining legs slashing through the air in a frenzied bid for freedom. It spat acid – a tactic that would’ve worked effectively on most other materials, but instead simply got diluted with the melting ice. Even as the acid reacted with the ice, the spikes held firm, anchoring the beast in place like steel cables.
Henry’s heart pounded in his ears. Come on, Owens, he urged silently. Take the shot.
As if on cue, Ron pulled the trigger. The Gustaf bucked in his hands as the HEAT round streaked towards its target. Henry barely had time to brace himself before the explosion hit, the shockwave slamming into him and nearly toppling him over. He staggered back, gazing into the settling dust.
When the smoke cleared, the Queen’s head was obliterated – replaced by a gory mess of shattered chitin and pulverized flesh. Blood sprayed from the gaping hole, covering the ground in a pale blue hue. The creature’s body convulsed, its remaining legs scrabbling weakly at their surroundings.
A surge of triumph washed over Henry, but it was fleeting. From the corner of his eye, he locked on to a glimpse of movement. One of the Queen’s legs continued to spasmodically jerk around and spray the ground with blue ichor. He raised his shotgun in a nonchalant motion and blasted the errant limb, watching as it shuddered and went still.
Sera stepped up, her sword barely catching the light as she jammed it into what was left of the Queen’s thorax. A sharp twist, and it was over. She then yanked the blade from the carcass, her grip shifting subtly along the hilt. As she flicked the sword, frost swiftly coated the ichor clinging to the metal. The frozen debris was flung off, hitting the ground and shattering like glass.
He glanced down at his Holding Bag. Damn, the fight took out most of his shells. Swapping out his shotgun for his M7, he turned to his team and took stock of their condition. It seemed everyone had mostly gone unscathed, only debris and dirt scarring their envirosuits. Well, except for himself and Ron. “Think we’re gonna have to start calling you pinata now,” Henry said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
Ron scoffed. “Yeah? Says the runner-up,” he said, tapping the dent on Henry’s envirosuit. “Better ‘pinata’ than ‘roadkill’, though. But seriously, what’s next? Don’t even know where to start.”
The room was empty, save for the debris strewn about and the singular obelisk standing in the center of the room. He didn’t notice it earlier, but as he got closer, he realized that the obelisk emitted a faint light that barely escaped the canopy of webs. He looked it up and down before turning to the others. “Only one place to start. Let’s clear out the webs, see what’s hiding below.”
“Doc, Kel, clear out the eggs. Hayes, Sera, see if the Queen’s got anything useful. Everyone else focus on the webs,” Henry ordered.
Ron drew his knife and started slicing through the dense cobwebs. “Hey, what y’all think the Queen’s Tier is?”
Isaac paused to consider. “Eh, Tier 8, probably. Minotaur boss and Rillifane boss were both Tier 8, so I’d say the spider’s around the same level.”
“Well, the resilience of the specimen isn’t a definitive measure of the Tier,” Dr. Anderson pointed out. “It’s quite possible that we merely had the most suitable tools at hand in this particular encounter.”
“The scholar speaks truly,” Sera agreed. “There is nary a defining criterion; defense is but one of many that are considered by the Guild. Were it so simple, Kelmithus and I would have attained Tier 9 ere now.”
“So, what do you think the Queen is, then? Tier 7 maybe?” Ron asked.
Henry shook his head. Tier 7 didn’t seem accurate. Using his knife to scrape some of the webbing off his glove, he voiced, “Spiranids are weak in general, but are classified as Tier 5 or higher because of their traps, ambush tactics, numbers, and abilities. Archers can use Wind Snipe and mages can use wide-area spellcasting, but they can’t reliably penetrate the exoskeleton’s armor. If anything, this is probably on the lower end of Tier 9.”
“Tier 9, huh?” Isaac muttered.
Sera smiled as she stood back. She stuffed a frost-covered gland into her holding bag and paused from her work as she chimed in, “Hmm… how keen. I expected nothing less from the first Tier 6 entrants in Eldralore’s history! It shows plain why the Guild did so swiftly raise you.”
“Hah,” Henry chuckled. It was an amusing thought, but… “Say, ya think we can get to Tier 7 after this?”
Sera’s eyebrows shot up. “Tier 7? A mark of no slight merit. What have you achieved since attaining Tier 6?”
Henry reached to scratch his chin, then cursed softly as his glove thudded against his visor. “Well, we took down a Rillifane pack, a Sentinel Lindwyrm, and now this primal Spiranid Queen. That’s not too shabby, eh?”
“Firm victories,” Sera admitted, “but advancement weighs more than battle alone. The Guild also considers quest difficulty, knowledge gained therefrom, and impact – in other words, glory.”
“The Baranthurian Ruins,” Dr. Anderson blurted, taking the words out of Henry’s mouth. He turned to Kelmithus, who approached them after confirming that the eggs had been cleared out. “Surely, working with the Sanctum Arcanum must be quite the honour. The Guild holds their quests with high esteem, wouldn’t you say?”
Kelmithus nodded, burning a clump of disposed webs on the ground. “True as that may be, advancement oft hinges upon the cumulative experience of dozens of quests.”
“Well, ain’t no small feats for us lately,” Ryan remarked. “The quest to the Baranthurian ruins, what was it, Tier 8? Yeah, that was Tier 8. Sentinel Lindwyrm? Hell, Tier Nine. That there beast?” Ryan pointed his gun at the carcass of the Spiranid Queen. “Tier 9 as well.”
Ron interjected, “Plus we’ve been helping out along the way, like those villagers, and taking on quests others won’t touch. Honestly, the Hardale quest should be pretty weighty too, considering the Nobian shenanigans.”
Sera hummed, mulling over Alpha Team’s experiences. The fact that most of their quests at Tier 6 had essentially been Tier 7 quests or higher in difficulty was probably unheard of in the Guild. Not only that, but they’d been able to complete these difficult quests successfully. Hell, with flying colors, even. That had to count for something.
Henry looked over at Sera, stepping back as he allowed Kelmithus to dispose of the webs that he had cleared out. “So, whaddya think? Based on what we’ve done, you think we got a shot at Tier 7?”
Sera looked up at the ceiling as she weighed her response. “Ehh, you’ve a strong case. Alas, it’s Taldren’s call to make. His favor seems yours, though; I wager he’ll agree.”
Henry grinned. Moving up meant they could have access to more quests. Naturally, that also meant better rewards and in turn, access to some truly magical equipment. “Good to hear. Guess we’ll see to it once we get back to Eldralore. Now, we should probably –”
A soft glow of light gradually lit up the room, interrupting Henry mid-sentence. He squinted, readying his weapon. The light came from the walls and ceiling, illuminating the once-dark chamber. The obelisk, now free of webs, now hummed… healthily? It wasn’t like he had a manual to tell him if this was a good or bad development, but judging from the facility’s reaction, it must’ve worked.
Henry glanced at his HUD. The temperature readings were rising, too. The icy chill from Kelmithus’ magic rapidly dissipated as the environmental controls kicked in. “Well, looks like we’ve done all we can here. Let’s head back to the containment cell room and see if we can find anything else of interest.”
– – –
Outskirts of GB-2, Grenden Forest
Carvus Alnect Virelius narrowed his gaze toward the brightening sky, his eyes cutting through the retreating mist that had long veiled the forest’s canopy. This unprecedented clarity above the ruins was strange. After centuries cloaked in an impenetrable fog, why did the skies clear now?
The Umber Vicearch’s mind worked like a whetstone, sharpening the fragments of reports from his scouts, cryptic as they were. The recent skirmish, occurring concurrently with the lifting fog, could not be mere happenstance. Regardless of the answer, the unexpected fold presented a welcome complexity to test his mettle.
He set his thoughts aside as the sound of footsteps approached.
“Leuarch Eldreyn reporting, milord,” one of his men said. “We’ve word from Serarch Trelian.”
Carvus gave him a nod to continue.
Eldreyn relayed the news. “The scouts espy traces of battle: a fallen Sentinel Lindwyrm and two carriages left abandoned near the cave’s entrance. The land bears scars from some form of magic, strewn with strange metal tubes and other objects unknown to us. Save for the Lindwyrm, no other bodies are to be found. What are your commands, milord?”
Carvus took a deep breath. No other bodies? Two carriages? That such a formidable creature was felled with no apparent casualties among their ranks suggested a small but extraordinarily capable force. Each member was no doubt Tier 7 at the least. The limited number of carriages implied a party not larger than ten. But… what could the metal objects mean?
Powerful though they might be, could such a small group withstand his numbers? Carvus entertained the thought briefly. No, direct confrontation would be unwise. The site bore secrets too vital to squander on rash gambles. Better to maneuver them into a position where the only viable option would be to comply with his demands.
“Hold our position, Lornus,” Carvus commanded. While he preferred the safety of their hidden vantage in the forest, the intrigue of Trelian’s findings – the slain Lindwyrm – was too compelling to ignore. “The contents of Trelian’s report compel our own investigation. Lead us, that we might see for ourselves.”
“As you command, milord.”
It was a short walk to the clearing. As they reached the treeline, Carvus held up a hand, signaling his men to halt – they should go no further than the cover of the forest. The aftermath of the battle lay evident before them. The massive form of the Sentinel Lindwyrm sprawled near the far side of the clearing, its outline murky at a distance.
Carvus squinted, adjusting his position slightly for a better view. He felt his jaw drop, a lapse in composure that surprised even him. Yet, who could fault him? The beast lay nearly torn asunder, its massive body riddled with gaping, jagged wounds that no sword or arrow could inflict. Indeed, not even traditional siege weapons or combat spells could inflict such damage.
The destructive capability of fyric powder was well-known to him – he had seen its use in adamantite mines. The wounds on the Lindwyrm, however, spoke of a force of another Tier entirely. Where fyric powder might clear a path through a stubborn boulder, the agent used against the Sentinel Lindwyrm seemed capable of obliterating several boulders at once, perhaps even an entire cliffside.
Turning his attention from the ravaged beast, he scanned the battlefield. Among the chaos, his eyes caught the glint of metal – strange tubes scattered about, all some lighter shade of bronze. The craters were blackened and littered with debris: shards of metal mixed with wires. This was clearly no ordinary skirmish.
He moved closer to the tree line, cautiously examining the unfamiliar objects. The metal tubes bore no resemblance to any weapons known to Nobian forces. However, their presence here implied that somehow, these objects were related to the catastrophic wounds on the Lindwyrm.
Near the cave’s entrance, two metal carriages lay abandoned. Their exteriors were marred by dirt and marked with an array of dents that appeared to be from the Lindwyrm’s armored tail. The carriages, in style and make, aligned with reports of American machines observed by their Umbercari in distant Eldralore. Mounted atop each was a long cylinder. As foreign as they were, he could tell they were weapons – ones capable of unleashing formidable destruction.
Adventurers throughout the ages had ventured here, all repelled by the formidable Lindwyrm that long guarded these grounds. Had it been folly to devote their resources to the conquest of their neighbors, rather than to mastering and exploiting this site? Such questions surpassed his station, yet irrespective of the answers, the Emperor would surely take no pleasure in learning that he had allowed Americans to plunder the Gatebuilder’s secrets.
Carvus turned to Lornus. “Bid our scouts to investigate the cave.” As Leuarch Eldreyn departed to carry out the orders, he beckoned to one of his serarchs. “Bring me one of those metal tubes. I wish to examine it.”
He sat on a rock, watching the light bend around the man’s form until he vanished from sight. The serarch then adjusted the temperature around his body, matching it to that of the forest. Were it not for the subtle shifts in the man’s mana as he held the spells, Carvus would have surely lost track of him.
The serarch made his way forth, passing through the trees and into the clearing beyond. With haste, he seized upon one of the tubes that lay scattered about, and then, as quick as he had come, he turned and made his way back to the forest’s edge. When at last he returned, Carvus stood up and held out his hand.
The tube, lighter than its solidity might have portended, was chill to the touch and was marked by a patina that showed clear signs of bending. He tried to bend it with his fingers, but the metal resisted. Even when he used magic to strengthen himself, it yielded naught but scant impression. What could have possibly moved the metal?
Looking closely, he noticed that the metal wasn’t bronze, as he had first thought. Though bearing a hue akin to bronze, it was of a kind unfamiliar to him. The surface was engraved with American script – characters and sequences that held little meaning to him. Yet, to deem the letters ‘engraved’ would be to err; it was as if they were imprinted with a craftsmanship nary a smith could rival.
He turned it over in his hands, his eyes drawn to a circular groove near the base. Examining both ends, Carvus noted the open end was distorted as if a great force had expelled something from within – an insight into his previous question. The other end was sealed, marked by a small, precise indentation. He held it up, aligning it with a similarly sized hole in a nearby tree.
This was no common weapon. As a trebuchet releases its load, so too must this tube have hurled its own projectile. It gave him an idea. What if one were to use an adamantite tube with fyric powder, place a keen arrowhead atop, and ignite the mixture below? Would it rival a standard Wind Snipe combined with physical enhancement magic?
Carvus’ thoughts were interrupted by someone calling out to him. “Milord.”
“Hm?” He looked up, finding the face of Leuarch Franus. “What is it, Martano?”
He hesitated, as if second-guessing his words. “The… The Lindwyrm… The men grow restless, milord. They wish to claim the spoils of this battle – the Sentinel Lindwyrm’s materials are prized in many a lore. And these carriages, would it not profit us to salvage what we can? They may hold more secrets – or riches.”
He turned the leuarch’s words over in his mind as he would a well-worn coin. In truth, the idea held merit. Even the smallest measure of a Lindwyrm’s blood was a treasure beyond compare – to say nothing of the other materials, sought after by alchemists and smiths alike. That the Americans had forgone harvest was a curious thing indeed. Could it be that they were ignorant of the creature’s true worth? Or perhaps, had they found something more valuable?
And then there were the carriages, gleaming in the sun like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. If they could but glean some understanding of how the Americans had so deftly slain a beast of the Lindwyrm’s standing, it would surely prove a boon to the Empire’s own martial pursuits. Perhaps, armed with such knowledge, they might at last gain the upper hand against the accursed Sonarans.
Carvus cast his gaze once more upon the clearing, then turned to face Martano. “Aye,” he said. “Let it be so.”
Yet, as he made to step forth, a low, droning sound beckoned his attention – a buzzing hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The unfamiliar noise compelled him to halt. He raised his hand, stopping his men as he searched for the noise. He tilted his head skyward, squinting as he beheld a strange sight: a winged thing hanging in the air above the clearing, like an animal circling its prey. As the sunlight reflected off its surface, it became evident to him that this was no creature of flesh, but a machine – much like the metal carriages.
“Hold,” Carvus ordered. “We dare not venture forth.”
Martano stepped forward, doubt and confusion etched across his face. “But, milord, if we shroud ourselves in invisibility, surely they cannot see us.”
Carvus shook his head. “Nay; recall the umbercari we sent to infiltrate the Duke’s mansion. They, too, thought themselves hidden, yet were somehow discovered. We know not what sorcery that flying machine might possess, and we cannot risk exposing ourselves.”
Before Martano could respond or venture any further protest, the scouts returned, led by Serarch Trelian. The search bowed his head before providing his report, “Milord, the cave lies empty, and the Lindwyrm’s nest remains untouched. We discovered footprints leading to a great sealed door, which we believe to be the entrance to the ruins.”
Carvus nodded. The Americans had ventured forth and left the loot behind for a reason. He thought back to a fortress that the Empire once sacrificed to encircle the forces of the now-conquered Kingdom of Durenelle. “So be it. Let us abandon these lesser spoils. As our adversaries have forgone these spoils in pursuit of greater gains, so must we sacrifice Straltus.”
Next

Never in my life, have I ever heard an actually good student say that. Those of my friends who took pcm/b because that's what they were genuinely good at, thrived in what they did.
Its not so much streams as it is the difference between board exams and competitive exams. Here, we can all agree one is tougher.
But when I hear someone repeatedly and unwaveringly insist that "trust me bro pcm is so hard", "humanities/commerce wale nahi samjoge", it makes me wonder, if you find it so damn difficult then did you ever ask yourself, "maybe it isn't for me?"
Rather than demeaning others, ask yourself why you're doing something you hate. And I have actually heard jokers say that taking pcm in itself is an achievement (While they are failing). Now is it really?
Look, if you are doing something under social pressure or because you are so narrow minded that you think picking something that actually interests you will make you less worthy of respect, then that is your lack.
I have scored 96% in humanities and my friends in PCM/PCB streams have done equally well. Because we actually worked. I'm sick of hearing lazy folks, who sit around complaining all day like this, tell me that my hard work was less worthy. Those who don't put in the work will fail everywhere.
There were people failing in my class in humanities, and a surprising number. Even though they were all very bright kids. But what seemed like a bunch of jargon to them, made sense to some others.
So it all depends on your interest and aptitude. If putting others down is the only thing in your life that makes you worth anything, you are pathetic. Those who are actually working hard will never feel the need to spend time demeaning others. Comparing two completely different things just to make excuses for yourself is redundant.
Its even more sad to hear 17-18 year old teenagers have such a backward mindset. Its a failure of society as a whole that it continues create generations of parents who will pressurise and belittle their own kids the same way their parents treated them.

Each week, our appointment system will generate a list of customers who did not attend their appointments. We have a policy in place that the customer will receive a warning text after missing 1 appointment, a follow-up text after missing 2 within 6 months, and a formal letter after 3 within a year. However, the current system is very manual. I want to put that weekly list that gets generated into a spreadsheet, then each week, when I paste in the new weekly data, have the spreadsheet flag if that customer has previously missed an appointment and update to show how many appointments have been missed within the current data set.
I hope that makes sense.

Tl;dr Version for anyone who doesn't want to read a bit of a rant: This game is way too damn greedy. <--
Important Edit: I'm new to reddit but guess I'm just not allowed to talk because I have slightly negative Karma? I'll just try to edit this as I see more and more comments I can't respond to, or DM if you feel like it ig.
Some Various disclaimers and background information before the rant:

1. No, this is post is not to shame people who aren't FTP. Do what you want with your money, I just want to explain why I don't think I'll ever support this game financially and see how the rest of the community feels. This is also not some propaganda to get you to either not spend money or stop spending money, or in other words by all means keep supporting Shift-Up and their products, do you boo.
2. I'm not the biggest gacha game player, I've only played two prior to this (Girls Frontline and some Star Wars one), both that I did end up throwing a little money at to support them despite Nikke ultimately being more fun imo (just to show no, I'm not against in game purchases for free games out of principle). Big bold letters here tho incase you missed it: I HAVE PLAYED GACHA GAMES BEFORE
3. I do enjoy this game and don't imagine I'll stop playing any time soon, as far as phone games go this is probably the most fun I've had (not the highest bar to set, I know). More big bold letters, because I know you like them (icky small letters go away >: ( I DO LIKE THIS GAME
4. I understand that ultimately the goal of any game is to generate income, and I don't hold it against any game. Rather I have a problem with how this game "encourages" you to spend money.
5. I started playing this game during the RE:Zero collab and quickly came to this conclusion, don't know what ultimately compelled me to rant about it (maybe just one too many all blue pulls)

Okay with that out the way let's get to the meat of the issue, which can honestly be summarized to 2 main sins so hell get ready for another list I guess : ^ )
1.The top heavy nature of the roster. "When everybody's special, no one will be"- Angry animated ginger dude (rip in peace). When I first started playing this game and doing some pulls I felt like a superstar, I mean wow I'm pulling all these super rares like it's nothing, even got all my counter girls maxed out and after about ~60 pulls I've managed 2 super super rares! Then I started to notice how all these "super rares" seem to have all hit max limit break and peeked at the Nikkepedia to realize the sad truth of this game. Given my past experiences with gacha I expected maybe something like 30% of the roster to be "SSR", not 95%. What's even more baffling is that the SSR actually does have it's own subcategory of "hey, these are actually the super rare ones" with Pilgrims having a miniscule chance to pull. I didn't want to put a list inside my list ( yo dawg, heard you like lists) but there's a few reasons why I really dislike this, and it was getting more and more "massive block of text" while I typed it so sorry.
-The first and probably most readily apparent issue being that it means you're unlocking new characters at a snails pace. It feels like the intended way to unlock new characters is to throw thousands of gems/ recruit rosters at the slot machine so you can do the high quality mold to actually have a chance (more on this later) to get a new character. I realize luck is a subjective matter, and yeah I've seen posts from people bragging about pulling 4-5 SSR in a pull, but objectively speaking the other gacha games were far more generous with the unlocking of new characters.
-Secondly, and probably what I hate the most, is that these "SSR" are simply not created equally (putting aside the obvious and aforementioned "actual SSR" of the pilgrims). I'm not saying every Nikke has to be an absolute powerhouse (more on this later) but if you want to make Nikkes that are just inferior versions of other Nikkes or have kits that just straight up aren't good, I dunno chief...maybe put them in a lower tier of the roster? Hell putting aside the meta/ actually caring about the kits of your waifus let's just talk about the lore/ backstory of these characters. Matis (my favorite squad, big hearts and kisses especially for Drake), the super star hero squad and best the Missilis company has to offer? Okay sure, makes sense they're SRR. Prima Donna Nikkes that...work in the music industry for some reason? Uh okay not sure why these military bots are making music but they're famous ig so why not, SSR it is. Oh hey Absolute, Rapi's former squad and supposed elite of Elysion now that's a contender for SSR for sure. Maid for you, Nikkes that run a maid cafe...well let's make em SSR. Okay okay I shouldn't hawk on the waifu game having waifus that are character archetypes even if it makes absolutely no sense in the setting of the game but you still get the point right? You have characters that are presented to you as the cream of the crop (in other words have lore friendly reasons to be classified as SSR) thrown into the same category of rarity of characters that work in maid cafes or other random civilian jobs/ hobbies. This all putting aside the actual strength of these character's kits (Matis is pretty good at least, big hearts and kisses) I'm simply referring to the story reasons for characters to be presented as "SSR".
-Thirdly this all just reeks of some system you see in a lot of games where they use certain words to artificially make you feel more accomplished, if that makes any sense. The lowest tier (of absolute garbage) is referred to as "rare", the slightly better but ultimately still useless (<3 u Rapi/ Anne) tier is "super rare", and the bulk of the roster is "super super rare." Fellas, that's not how the word "rare" works at all. I feel like most games at least refer to their filler trash as "common" or the like so why does the game call the, in lore, mass produced no personality foot soldier Nikkes "rare"? This leads back to "SSR" having it's own category of rarity, did they realize "SSSR" would look and sound stupid so that's why Pilgrims don't have their own category? I dunno, could have called it "ultra super dooper cream your pants because you're a real winner rare" or they could have just (alongside making some of the "unworthies" a lower tier) gone with 4 tiers with a more honest and conventional naming system (common- uncommon-rare-epic) but they didn't because that doesn't trigger the dopamine in slack jawed gamer so they like you more and spend more money or whatever reason so many games use terminology that feels like patting you on the back. Almost lost my cool there, sounding a lil schizo huh? Let's move on to the other main point to save face.

1. The way progression is handled (and how that ties to the roster) "When you come to it and you can't go through it and you can't knock it down, you know that you've found the wall, the wall, the wall." -Mark Henry (still kicking, I think). Gacha games, or really most games, have parts that are for the cream of the crop. The real go getters (or go spenders) who invest a lot of time (or money) into the game and are rewarded for it. Usually these are things like raids or other limited time events, typically speaking though it's not the main story of the game that's the major hurdle for the playerbase to surmount. Typically speaking there's a slow and steady incline of requirements for players to progress through the story of a game, be it skill (let's be honest, not really a factor for gacha games) or equipment/loot, but not here. Instead you have rapidly increasing arbitrary "recommended power levels" (yes, we'll talk about this later) coupled with a massive middle finger in the form of level limit/ limit breaking in a nice package of pain and inconvenience, because I hate you for enjoying and caring about the story we wrote (which the game will proceed to spoil in events, which have a way lower bar of entry) or something idk. Jamie, pull up that list again.

-So pulling a SRR is "accomplishment" enough, pulling the same SRR 3 more times is whack crazy luck, doing that whole process 5 times is insultingly absurd (b-buh muh Kilo tho, because rip anybody who wasn't here for this event). Technically speaking there are systems in place to make this easier, but both of them are still hella rough. You can either use the wishlist feature (on the normal recruitment, and not for pilgrims) to cut out the massive bloat of SRR you don't care about and still pray on that 4% chance or you can grind out 200 total recruits to get mileage tickets to knock out one of 20 pulls you'll need in order to get pass this wall. You've already seen posts either lamenting their luck or singing praises to lord because after months people have managed this, and imo that is not a good system of progression for the main story of your game. I don't have a problem with there being content that encourages you to spend money, for heavens sake they have a "hard campaign" (which is just the same lay out of campaign maps with massively spiked up requirements with the same exact rewards as the normal story, minus the actual story part) so why not just let people enjoy the normal campaign. It comes off as a really cheap and scummy way to encourage people to spend money, holding the story of your game hostage. Just lower the requirements of the normal campaign, I'm sure older players don't have the "naw these new players need to suffer like I suffered" mentality, nobody is going to be mad at you.
-Oh yeah, recommended power levels. A lot of games have the system of "increase your number to keep up with the enemies increasing number" but none of those feels like a slap in the face as this game's system of "you'll either meet this required number or we'll just nerf your damage to the ground" (evidently the exact percentage of this used to be a lot worse before they patched it, further proof that the playerbase isn't against the game being made more accessible). This is probably the part where the Nikke superfan tells me I just have a massive skill issue and it's totally possible to clear these missions at a deficit, and this is absolutely true. I've seem some superstars talking about clearing levels while under 20k or more the recommended amount (I've only managed 10k, all thanks to Crown whom I love and cherish) and you know what the secret to success is? I just hinted at it in those parenthesis but it comes down to pulling "the right" SSR Nikkes. Okay that's a little disingenuous , as there's a little bit of skill/ understanding of the games system involved and grinding out the various resources you need to level said actually good SSR Nikkes, but it doesn't change the fact that there are Nikkes you actually want if you care about progressing through the game and there's all the ones you don't that seemingly only exist to reduce your chances of pulling these Nikkes. Let's backtrack to that "wishlist" system for a bit, which is what is intended to make sure you get the (non pilgrim) Nikkes you want like Liter or Tia. You'll recall that the wishlist doesn't increase your total chance to pull a SRR (makes sense) but just ensures that you only pull the designated SSR, but the problem is this only applies to this normal pulling. It is still my opinion that most of the SSR you're gonna get are going to come from the various molds, which cleverly has no such system of wishliting (because let's be honest, this would probably destroy any incentive to pay money for people who don't care about costumes). So you're either dealing with a system of most likely not getting any SSR from normal pulling or having a slim chance of pulling the SSR you need (assuming you even pull a SSR to begin with) with the mold, neither of which sound too appealing to me
-Speaking of molds, and this probably going to be my most controversial take (or at the least the most demanding), it is blatantly unfair that high quality and company molds aren't a guaranteed SSR. In the case of of the high quality mold the process of getting one is slow enough (I maybe manage 1 a week, outside of events or CD redemption that may give more) and there are enough SSR (putting aside the fact that you want to pull the same SSR multiple times anyway) that I really don't think it would be that bad if you just don't let us get kicked in the gut by pulling Neon after all that effort. In the case of the company specific molds from the tribe towers you are quite literally hard limited to pulling 3-7 a day (assuming of course you have a squad capable of tackling the tower), and you're going to make them have an even lower total chance of a SSR than the normal high quality mold. I'm only half way to my pilgrim mold (I had to wait till crown before I even felt like starting the tower, because even doing the easiest levels is mind numbing with just one Nikke) but I've heard horror stories of going 5 pilgrim molds with no pilgrim in sight, and ngl I may just weep when it's my turn to experience that. If you want to further reduce the acquisition of molds to still encourage some spending that's fine by me, but please let us have some safety net in this ruthless Nikke grind.
That's pretty much it for the rant so I just want to finish with some closing thoughts. I really do like this game, honest, and I wouldn't mind supporting it if it just didn't make me feel so used and abused. There are plenty of games with microtransactions or additional content where it feels like you're buying them because you want to support the dev, not because it feels like they're holding a gun to your head, and I just want this game to feel more like the former. I'm happy to discuss this rant further if anybody has their own ideas and opinions (or even if people just want to defend the game) so let me know what yall think, assuming you even read that blob of text up there.

Recently I've been considering the possibility I might have dysgraphia. I'm not looking for someone to diagnose me, I know the internet can't do that, just looking for some input.
So I'm diagnosed with ADHD and general anxiety, and it's been suggested I could be autistic, but never diagnosed. I've never had issues with reading, but ever since I was in elementary school, I've struggled to write legibly. (Couldn't stay in the lines, mixed up letters, etc) I can recall at least one occasion where I had to redo a math assignment because I wrote the number 6 backwards and it was counted as a 2. My teacher in 4th grade was especially harsh about it. (She would make me take extra time with her so I could learn to make letters the 'right' way, and once flat out told me I was bad at writing)
Another thing is that I've always struggled to write lots of sentences, and I've always been slower than my classmates. I'm the kid who always asks the teacher to go back because I'm not finished with the notes. My hand also tends to hurt a lot, to the point that when I was younger I'd take frequent breaks to run my fingers under cold water.
It's gotten.. somewhat better as I've aged, but I still have to put a lot of focus in. What brought on my recent round of questioning was when I found out an exam at school would have a timed written response question on paper, and I practically had a panic attack thinking about doing it, which led me to reexamine some things.
(Not sure if it's related, but I also never learned to ride a bike, can hardly tie my shoes, and run into stuff. A lot.)
Just wanted to share my experience, and didn't know where else to do it. :)