Story map theme plot characters

I'm curious to see when was the moment this game really got you hooked. Was it doing your first dungeon or was it a story beat? Did it happen early on or did it take a dozen hours or so? Share your storys on when you realized you were hooked. BTW let's keep spoilers to a minimum. So if it was story moment something like plot about x hours in should be sufficient.

Hi everyone! I am looking for one or two more players to join a group I am GMing for. We will be starting a new campaign and will have our session 0 shortly after we recruit enough players. The playtime has yet to be determined, but will most likely be 9AM to 12AM Eastern Time Zone. This will be a weekly game that lasts 3 hours a week. We use Discord and FoundryVTT for our sessions and we use BeyondDND for our characters.
I already have 3 players and I am looking for 2 more players. We are a laidback group that tends to be a little chaotic during our sessions. Our ages range from mid 20s to mid 30s and we would prefer to play with people of similar ages, but its not a requirement. We are accepting of newer players as well!
I have been playing board games since I was a child and DMing DnD5e for about 4 years now. I am fairly flexible and open to the rule of cool, but only when it makes sense. I am always looking to improve my game and I am open to criticism if you feel like the game isn't going the way you expected.
This will be a 5e campaign starting at level 3 or 4, set in my homebrew world with a focus on roleplay. We generally have combat every session or every other session. If we are in a dungeon, you can expect the number of combat encounters to go up. This is intended to be a shorter campaign (3 to 4 months).
Synopsis: The Shadows of Clearwater
Welcome to the Free City of Clearwater, where power is traded in secrets and shadows dance with danger. In this sprawling metropolis ruled by guilds and gangs, every street holds a story and every alley conceals a plot.
Aric Blackthorn, once a feared and respected rogue, now languishes in the shadows as a broken man, drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. Desperate and destitute, he seeks out a group of unlikely heroes, promising them riches beyond their wildest dreams in exchange for their aid in one final heist.
As the adventurers reluctantly join forces with the washed-up drunkard, they soon discover that their journey will lead them into the heart of Clearwater's darkest secrets. With enemies lurking around every corner and betrayal threatening to tear them apart, they must navigate a treacherous maze of lies and deceit if they hope to survive.
In a city where trust is a luxury and survival is a game played by the cunning and the ruthless, the adventurers must rely on their wits and each other to see them through. For in Clearwater, the final score is never what it seems, and victory belongs to those who are willing to risk it all in the shadows.
If you are interested in joining our game, please fill out this application here: https://forms.gle/yKEg3vhXJjbttRHk9
Once the slots are full I will update this thread.
Let's have a great time rolling dice together!

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

I want a good and lengthy game with a counter feature, way of building, a leveling system, actual story and quests. The quests giving you better stats or weapons, Multiple classes like an archer, knight, samurai, Mage and other things. The character creation isn't too complicated. The countering requires timing and you can sprint, the bosses are hard but fun

I just want more short story collections with similar vibes to any of these ones. Like realistic characters, more character focused stories, things like that but a collection of short stories ideally. PS I've already read all of JD Salinger's short stories that I could find.

In the original post I made, I worded some of my claims poorly, so I think I should try again. In case you're curious, I was talking about the domsauce's "Chikn Nuggit Parody Show"(CNPS), & its reception compared to the original "Chikn Nuggit"(OGCN), after that I talked about a senario this reminded me of, that being Sealab 2021's cult following. If you don't know, "Sealab 2021" is a parody of the 1970's environmental cartoon called "Sealab 2020", using original footage from the show, but redubbing it for comedic purposes. The difference between this & the Chikn Nuggit shows (besides CNPS making it's own footage) is the popularity. While I have seen a handful of fans claim that CNPS is better than OGCN, that it jack shit compared to how much Sealab 2021 overshadowed Sealab 2020. Because unlike with the Sealab shows, I can look up "Chikn Nuggit" & get either just results for OGCN, or equal results for both shows, if not slightly less results for CNPS. However, even if I look up "Sealab 2020", & NOT "Sealab 2021", I'd still end up getting more results for Sealab 2021 than Sealab 2020, seriously, it made finding any sort of reviews or information about Sealab 2020 insanely annoying, but from what I could gather, Sealab 2020 is split right down the middle, with some claiming that it's s pretty good & others, like IGN weirdly enough, calling it, abysmol. Meanwhile Sealab 2021 got almost universal appraisal from critics & fans, even IGN (again) put it as #79 on their list of the top 100 greatest cartoons of all time. There are other parody series that gained more recognition than the originals (Harvey Birdman, Space Ghost), but I have never seen a parody so recognizable, so popular, & so critically acclaimed, that it put it's source material near obscurity. And that brings us back to the Chikn Nuggit shows, because as I said at the beginning, there are actually fans who said that they think that CNPS is better than OGCN, it's not to the point of being more recognizable, far from it, just look at the sub count of the original's channel & domsauce's channel, but just think about it, the parody, made by one guy, managed to have fans (even if not that many) that prefer it to it's source material, mady by a team of professionals, & has a company funding them. There's even a person who reviewed both shows, slamming OGCN for its characters, dialogue, & humor, while praising CNPS for its characters, dialogue, & humor.(If you're curious, I'll comment the review link.) That reminds me, there was a term for a parody being more popular or better recieved than the original source material, it's called "Parody Displacement". From what I read, it's where a show is more popular or acclaimed than the original works it's parodying by the masses, I say from what I read, because I can't tell if it's for just being more populaacclaimed in general (even slightly), or being specifically "Sealab 2021" levels of popularity & recognition, to where it makes the original so close to, if not completely, unrecognizable. It can also apparently refer to a show being better received for appealing to a different, or more mature audience. Sounds familiar? Yeah, CNPS, while I believe does have the original's fans in mind, seems to also be targeting a different audience, primarily the fans of domsauce's other works, also unlike OGCN, which is for general audiences, CNPS is primarily for adults, with mild to moderate swearing, some sexual reference & themes (cough, cough, "The Obsession", cough, cough), & probably what's it's most famous for, it's very high levels of intense violence & gore!(It's played for laughs, but still.) Of course, OGCN is still more recognizable, & has more views than CNPS, but I still find it fascinating that there are people who like the parody more. Honestly I don't think, nor want what happened to Sealab 2020 to happen to OGCN (thought, I still want the CNPS to succeed), because I think that both shows deserve the praise they get, & I want OGCN to still have it's fans. Though, I do still wonder what would happen if it repeats Sealab's steps. I don't have an exact preference for either show (thought that may change), they do have their strengths & weaknesses, but you can check out other people's posts to see what those are. So yeah, that's my redo of my post about domsauce's parody & Sealab 2021. Did I do it better? I'm not sure! For all I know, I probably fucked up once again here. But I did at least try to correct what I could, & if you wanna see what I originally said, I'll leave it in the comments here. I... don't know how to sign off soooooo... later, I guess.

I've been needing a bit of help with an idea I've been making. For Context, I've been playing a load of Wizard101 cause it's been free for a bit. My character's a Storm Wizard and I've finished the first arc of the story.
I want to make a character inspired by this concept. It won't be a 1 to 1 perfect but I want to use the general concept of a Storm based Magic user. From what I've seen, Storm in Wiz101 is the Wind, Lightning, and Water class basically. I don't know what a good class or combination of classes would be for this!
I appreciate any and all help!

What are expectations for season 3? (character development and story wise) What is expected release date? (not to peer pressure uru but I just wanna know when I can expect it) Jane? The government // Ember? Untitled // Vigilantes? Revenge? Jera? And more

I don’t support the making of descendants 4 IN THE SLIGHTEST
Story was wrapped up
Cameron Boyce (rip) will be missing and he was a main character and one of if not the best characters in the movies
None of the main characters are returning at all (even then wouldn’t make a difference to my opinion but it shows Disney doesn’t care about the opinions and just wants more money)
I myself won’t watch it but I wanna know if anyone is? Like are we doing a mass boycott to ensure a 5th one doesn’t happen or what, I also still haven’t watched the animated movie but I did watch the animated shorts
I just find it so weird how they took a completed trilogy who also had a main characters actor die and still wanna make a fourth one? Without the other main 3???? Like what?!

1. Do main objectives first. In the first part, team members should be focusing on killing moonflowers, unlocking prison cages, getting ready at firework launchers. You have plenty of time to kill competitors and emote in the Aquarium. Finishing the main objective allows your leader to beeline into Showmen's Pier and move to the next area
2. Learn the location of teddies. There's only 5 and they're always in the same location. Again, the leader should be sprinting towards Juuchi/Jullian, killing them and entering the Aquarium so be a team player and pick up the teddy bear
3. Power armor users stay the f*** away from the escortee. Power armor somehow collides with the escortee and I've had runs double the time required because of PA users screwing around with escortee pathing.
4. Hosts, if you're stuck in the lawn chair after talking to Mother Charlotte, open up your map and hover over any empty diamond objective and click "Show on Pip-Boy". Make sure your character actually does the animation for viewing the Pip-Boy and then press the pip-boy button again to unstuck yourself.

Play however you want yes, but some players don't want to waste their precious exp buffs from lunchboxes, brain bombs, cranberry relish, etc.

its an anime that came out recently (within the last few years) that has a b or c plot of someone (probably the main character) who is like a scary dude who is normally feared and he goes into a convenience store and buys some sort of dessert and the store clerk (a small woman) suggests something, then they start a friendship where he comes in and she suggests things

https://youtu.be/SZqrspeHfgo?feature=shared https://youtu.be/nQ5jhUM8M6U?si=8Xt4MmzwbG7V0HKI So the story: Me and my sister were watching our at the time 3 year old sister while our parents ran errands. Our mom put this on and left, my sister and I continued watching our phones until we heard the god awful voice acting. Me and her both said "Why do they sound like they have been smoking cigs for 45 years" and " This sounds like the creator went to a white trash trailer park and offered free cigarettes". (we are half white, just thought I would add that to the context so I won't get people upset for being "offensive") Worst part wasn't the god awful plot or voice acting. It was the fact we couldn't find the damn remote.

ex. concubine walkthrough or death is the only option for the villainess
ideally plot focused w/ some romance. their background should be a major theme, something that acts as a catalyst for the events of the story. flashbacks including their previous life would be appreciated. basically anything where i can see the mc as both their past and current self. thanks in advance !!

Round 1, Pick 5 - Joe Alt, OT, Notre Dame:
NFL: Head coach Jim Harbaugh is set on building an offensive bully and that starts with the offensive line. Alt comes in as a polished tackle who’ll step in and immediately boost the unit and protect Justin Herbert.
CBS Sports: B. He is the best in this class, but now he has to make the transition to right tackle for Jim Harbaugh. That can be tough to do. But taking a lineman makes sense, I just might have taken J.C. Latham as a better fit.
ESPN: Chargers general manager Joe Hortiz said they would stick to the process of picking the best player available, a strategy he learned from 26 years in the Baltimore Ravens personnel department that won him two Super Bowls. Selecting Alt on Thursday night supports this theory. The Chargers currently employ only four receivers -- none of whom has a season over 800 yards in the NFL -- and passed on taking the second-best receiver in the class. The Chargers are returning four of their five offensive line starters from last season and signed center Bradley Bozeman in free agency, but stuck to their strategy despite much bigger needs on the roster.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: His Skyrim character is Thad: The High King of Skyrim.
Round 2, Pick 34 - Ladd McConkey, WR, Georgia:
NFL: Our second pick, second receiver and first trade of the night. The Patriots slide back a few spots, and the Chargers get a receiver who should be thrust right into the mix. Although McConkey had injury issues at Georgia, if he's able to stay healthy, he could be Justin Herbert's favorite target in due time. With great route-running skills and impressive separation ability, McConkey could be an 80-catch player one day.
CBS Sports: A. Crafty, athletic, polished WR who can win on the boundary and in the slot. Releases are great. Route-running nuance also there. Deceptive speed and YAC skills.
ESPN: After trading Keenan Allen and releasing Mike Williams, the Chargers came into the draft with just four receivers on the roster. None among that receiving group of Joshua Palmer, Quentin Johnston, Derius Davis and Simi Fehoko had ever topped 800 yards in an NFL season. Since Herbert entered the league in 2020, he has always had a coterie of reliable pass-catchers, including players like running back Austin Ekeler and tight end Gerald Everett, who both left in free agency. McConkey, the Chargers hope, gives Herbert another player he can count on in the passing offense after many key departures.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Cannot stand The Office save for Scott’s Tots.
Round 3, Pick 69 - Junior Colson, LB, Michigan:
NFL: If there was one player I would have bet would follow Jim Harbaugh to the Chargers, it would have been Mike Sainristil or Colson. The latter was the emotional heartbeat of a championship Michigan defense, as Colson is a full-tilt competitor who brings his all to every game and every practice. He's a tackling machine whose coverage limitations were likely what caused him to fall out of the top 50 picks.
CBS Sports: B. Ties to Jim Harbaugh and addresses a need at off-ball LB. Best tackling linebacker in the class by a wide margin. Flashed some coverage chops in 2023 but not a speciality. I didn’t see premier range or speed to the football. Beats blocks with decent regularly and ball skills must show up more in NFL. Very young.
ESPN: This was a position of need for the Chargers and Colson, who was a second-team Big Ten selection and led the team with 95 tackles last season, will bring necessary competition to a mostly unproven group. Both of the Chargers' starting outside linebackers in 2023 won't be back next season, as Kenneth Murray Jr. signed with the Tennessee Titans in free agency and Eric Kendricks was released in March. Linebackers Daiyan Henley (51 defensive snaps in 2023) and Nick Niemann (238 defensive snaps in 2023) are the Chargers' lone returning linebackers from last season, but they also signed Denzel Perryman and Troy Dye.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: We all know what pick this is so make with the ‘nice’ jokes.
Round 4, Pick 105 - Justin Eboigbe, DT, Alabama:
NFL: Jim Harbaugh keeps beefing up both fronts. Eboigbe played well in Bama's Rose Bowl loss to Harbaugh's Wolverines, so this pick isn't a shock. The Chargers are adding toughness in Eboigbe, assuming his health improves. He had a breakout season in 2023.
CBS Sports: C+. Classic Nick Saban defensive lineman. Two-gapping extraordinaire with thick, powerful frame. Good first-step quickness but won’t be a calling card to win as a pass rusher consistently in the NFL. Not a pass-rush move type. Higher floor than upside. Limited role.
ESPN: The Chargers begin Day 3 by filling another of the team's most significant needs. L.A. is set at outside linebacker on their defensive line with Khalil Mack, Joey Bosa and Tuli Tuipulotu, but they are largely unproven in the interior. Some of the Chargers' best interior defenders from last season, defensive tackle Sebastian Joseph-Day and defensive tackle Austin Johnson, won't be back in 2024. Eboigbe, 6-foot-4, 275 pounds, was a first-team All-SEC selection last season, finishing with a caterer-high seven sacks.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Has been known to run around banging coconuts together simulating a horse.
Round 5, Pick 137 - Tarheeb Still, CB, Maryland:
NFL: The first tape I watched of Still, coincidentally, was against Michigan -- and he looked good. Jim Harbaugh clearly agreed, although Still's lack of elite speed or size might make him more of a candidate to kick inside as a nickel.
CBS Sports: C+. Chippy, fluid CB who wants to come up and hit people. Super-smooth hips. Doesn’t have the length or pure speed to be lockdown type but gets the most out of his athletic skill set. Won’t follow routes perfectly at the next level. Can be too grabby in man. Infectious energy on the field. Just lacks premier traits.
ESPN: The Chargers' pass defense was abysmal last season, allowing 249.6 yards per game, which ranked 30th in the NFL. So they had to address their secondary in the draft. Still, who is 6-foot and 189 pounds, ran a 4.52 in the 40-yard dash at the combine and finished with five interceptions last season, which tied for sixth in the FBS. He has lined up primarily outside (77% of his snaps came from out wide), but he can also play in the slot.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: His favorite operating system is Windows XP.
Round 5, Pick 140 - Cam Hart, CB, Notre Dame:
NFL: The Chargers double up on long DBs to help combat the AFC West's playmakers. Hart has a strong athletic profile, and he has the perfect makeup to be a special teams coverage standout as well.
CBS Sports: B-. Old-school, long outside CB. Huge with extreme length. Moves well for his size but probably won’t be able to stay with quick separators in the NFL on a regular basis. Last-resort grabbing gets him into trouble during the route. Speed is average and didn’t make many plays on the ball but not tested often. Maybe move to safety?
ESPN: Cornerback is the first position where the Chargers have drafted multiple players so far, proving that the group was one Hortiz knew needed improvement and competition. Cornerback may also be Hortiz's favorite position. He told reporters that he "never feels full at corner. That is a position that you never stop chasing," he said. The Chargers now have six cornerbacks on the active roster, including the 6-3, 202-pound Hart.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Takes three to five business days to reply to an email.
Round 6, Pick 181 - Kimani Vidal, RB, Troy:
NFL: I'm a bit surprised the Chargers didn't take a back before this, but Vidal has a chance to join the RB rotation for Jim Harbaugh. Vidal's profile reads similarly to Blake Corum, so it's easy to see why Harbaugh might view him favorably.
CBS Sports: A. This is a future feature back. Stocky, well-built frame. Between the tackles experience and can blend slashing and multi-cut style together. Elusive, sets up blockers well and has effortless power through contact at times. Not a true burner.
ESPN: Since the Jim Harbaugh era began in February, the theme for the Chargers has been on running the football. Vidal gives them depth at a position that will be one of the most important on the team. Considering the talent in the Chargers' running back room, which includes J.K. Dobbins and Gus Edwards, Vidal likely projects to be mainly a special teams contributor in his first year. Vidal set the Troy career (4,010), single-season (1,661), and single-game (248) rushing records, and his great-uncle is Baseball Hall of Famer Hank Aaron.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Spreads his love of Frito Pie eaten out of the little bag, like God intended.
Round 7, Pick 225 - Brenden Rice, WR, USC:
NFL: Jerry Rice's son and Caleb Williams' go-to guy figured to go a few rounds higher than this, but it's possible scouts felt there was more development needed in his game. With the Chargers, there are WR jobs open for Rice to make the roster early on.
CBS Sports: B+. Downfield specimen with quality size. Didn’t test amazingly but was a vertical weapon for Caleb Williams at USC. Stiff routes and only glimmers of YAC but has the power to run through some tackles. Fun fit with Justin Herbert. Son of NFL legend Jerry Rice.
ESPN: Only four receivers were on the Chargers roster before the draft, so drafting a second receiver seemed inevitable. Rice, 6-3, 208 pounds, is the son of Pro Football Hall of Fame receiver Jerry Rice. He played his final two seasons for the Trojans, where he was the primary deep target for No. 1 pick Caleb Williams. Rice led the team with a 14.6 air yards per target average in 2023, and 7 of his 12 TD receptions were on vertical routes -- tied for the sixth-most in the FBS.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: After adjusting the other picks & removing outliers he regresses to 1st overall.
Round 7, Pick 253 - Cornelius Johnson, WR, Michigan:
NFL: Another Michigan player for Jim Harbaugh. Johnson rarely was featured in Michigan's run-heavy system, but he made his mark as a blocker and occasional big-play receiver. His hands are inconsistent, but Johnson could find footing in L.A.
CBS Sports: C+. Sizable receiver who can deceive CBs with his long-striding speed when given a runaway. Inflexible movements will keep him from getting open on regular basis or winning against press. Ball skills are good in traffic.
ESPN: The more, the merrier in the Chargers receiving room. Johnson is their third pick at receiver, and for good reason. Johnson is also a familiar face, playing under Jim Harbaugh at the University of Michigan and the many other Michigan coaches on the Chargers staff. Johnson, 6-foot-3, 212 pounds, was a four-year starter at receiver and had 119 receptions since the start of 2021, the sixth most in the Big Ten. Johnson mainly played out wide in his career, with 84% of his snaps over the last three seasons coming lined up on the outside.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Upset with the rising price of cheese and cheese related goods.

Obviously a little bit of an exaggeration but something I feel like I've noticed more and more over time is how dismissive some people are of characters who are good and nice, labelling them as having no personality.
You have a character who is generally a very nice person, who tries to help others and is often very caring, those traits aren't seen as actual personality traits, they're just empty generic statements that make the character just as empty and generic, regardless of the execution in-story or anything else about their character. Being a very nice person means the same thing as the character having no personality.
A character being frequently angry, vain, a snarky asshole, a glutton, even just loud, those are considered actual personality traits for a character despite being just as easily generic as being nice can be, seemingly simply because they have more edge to them.
Even when the nice character has other traits to their personality, unless those traits are negative they are ignored completely and overshadowed, making the character just Nice^TM and nothing else.
Belle from Beauty and The Beast is a bookworm and strong in her opinions and convictions...but no, she's just a nice person and a that's it, just like all Disney princess characters prior to Elsa apparently.
Midoriya from MHA is a massive superhero fanboy and quick to throw hands to defend others even when he won't do the same for himself...so he's just a generic goodboy and nothing else. His only potential personality is how he was a crybaby early on in the series.
You could write a friggin' book on Aang's character and the many sides Avatar the Last Airbender shows of him...too bad he's just a goofy kid who is nice and kind to nearly everyone he meets and believes in peaceful solutions, so there is absolutely nothing else to his personality whatsoever. And yes, that was sarcasm.
Don't get me wrong, I get that edgier and more flawed personality traits typically tend to be more interesting but that's generally because they are easier to make interesting. It still ultimately comes down to the execution in story. That's what really bugs me here. The execution of the nice character's actual character feels like it's just completely ignored and dismissed simply because some people view being nice and kind as completely empty traits. Because they are such a good and nice person, because their personality is made up of many positive aspects, that's seen as the same as having no personality at all.
Which is bull, since even a negative character traits like being a snarky asshole is not a character flaw if the story doesn't treat it as one. It can be just as generic and empty a personality trait as a character being nice, just fitting a different kind of baseline likability or wish fulfillment/power fantasy.

This is THE best free AI STILL. By far. There is NO competition.
I am currently making it write a short science fiction story. I asked it to make a plot, with mid story twist and ending twist.
Next, I asked it to add two supporting protagonists to the story. Next, I asked it to add three minor characters to the story.
The twist in the middle is great. The ending twist it came up with is fantastic. Action is on a colonizing spaceship flying to another planet.
At first, it wrote a short story with literally 6 paragraphs, divided into chapters. I asked it to write "OK, just write chapter 1 scene 1", asked it to write location descriptions, dialogue between characters.
And it did so. And how.
Here's how I work with the AI to develop the story, lets jump into the middle of it.
Me: Good, but the banter between Maya and Alex should be more joking, less on stressing importance of mission. Make the "alien life form" banter into some form of a joke? Also, the bit about contributing to humanity's future is not necessary.
Pi: "So, what's on the docket for today?" Maya asked as they walked toward the genetics lab. "Oh, just a bit of genetic sequencing, some data analysis, and maybe a game of hide-and-seek with a rogue gene or two," Alex quipped. Maya laughed. "Ah, the glamorous life of a scientist on a generational ship! Sometimes I wonder if there are alien life forms out there having more fun than us." "If there are, they better have some killer dance moves, because our moves in these lab coats are interstellar," Alex joked, striking an exaggerated pose. Maya chuckled, playing along. "Can you imagine? A galactic dance-off between humans and aliens? Now that would be a mission worth signing up for!" As they reached the lab, they were still laughing, ready to tackle the day's work with a lighthearted attitude and a renewed sense of camaraderie.
Me: Continue the story as Alex and Maya work together in the genetics lab. They use future science fiction machines, which are based on real science. They now only talk to each other to further their work. What specific task are they both working on today in the genetics lab?
Pi: Inside the genetics lab, Alex and Maya focused on their task for the day: analyzing a newly discovered genetic anomaly in one of the ship's food crops. Using state-of-the-art equipment, such as the Quantum Gene Sequencer, they were able to delve deep into the plant's DNA, searching for the cause of the abnormality. "Alright, let's start with a complete genetic mapping," Alex said, powering up the sequencer. Maya nodded, carefully placing the plant sample into the machine. "I'll run a comparative analysis against the original genome while we wait for the results." The sequencer hummed to life, its holographic display showing a flurry of data as it worked. "Interesting," Alex noted, studying the preliminary results. "It looks like there's a significant mutation in the photosynthesis gene cluster." Maya glanced over at the display. "That would explain the decreased yield we've been seeing in the hydroponics bay.
Me: Both are somewhat puzzled as to how the mutation could have occured. A small mutation like that is understandable, but to them, this is a big mutation, and should not have occured. Continue the story, please, in that lab.
Pi: Maya furrowed her brow. "I don't understand how such a significant mutation could have occurred. The genetic safeguards in the hydroponics bay should have prevented this." Alex scratched his head, equally perplexed. "You're right. A small mutation here and there is normal, but this... this is different. Could it be a result of a systems malfunction?" Maya shook her head. "I doubt it. The environmental controls are constantly monitored and adjusted. It just doesn't make sense." Alex's gaze drifted to the sequencer's display, which was still churning out data. "Maybe we're missing something. Let's dig deeper into the genome and see if we can find any other anomalies that might explain this." Maya nodded, her fingers flying over the control panel. "Good idea. I'll cross-reference these results with the data from our long-term genetic stability studies." As they delved further into the mystery, the genetics lab hummed with the sound of their focused determination, both scientists refusing to give up until they had an answer.
The only "bad" thing, if I can call it that, is that every paragraph ends with cheesy "lets help each other" paragraph. Take that out, and I literally have a (fan fiction level?) human written science fiction story.
And it is read to me by voice number 4.
And that voice changes its tone and inflection, depending on the character's dialogue and situation. Yes, really.
This is insane.
I don't think you guys have an idea how powerful this (old? bad? soon to be replaced?) Pi AI is.
And I am not hitting any token limits. At all. EVER. This is insane. And free.
PS Sorry about the formatting of Pi entries - on my screen it is formatted like a proper writer would do so.
To the devs of Pi - THANK YOU.
To the people keeping Pi going - THANK YOU.

Just finished the game through YouTube (made sure to check out remnants, dark memories, hidden stories, and all that too). Quite liked it, but I had a few questions though that if anyone can answer, I’d really appreciate it! I did post to the other subreddit too.

1. what exactly happened to the original 10H? How‘d she survive to begin with and where exactly did she end up? What exactly was she doing, making her own miniature cage? Who is she with at the end of her hidden stories?
2. in one of 10H’s hidden stories (no 5), Mama mentions some last prank by 10H, what was that? And what does she mean by, “But hold on a moment. This record would have been left behind after we lost 10H. Then...who was responsible for this? Not to mention, the actual volume of this data is a bit higher than the typical estimate. Didn't this happen before? There was once a packet of data that held an unusually high volume. Hmm... Which one was that, again? If only I could remember where that was, I could analyze this...”
3. according to Lost World Appendix, it seems like Him is in the Cage. How did he end up there? And why is he going through some kind of never ending hell, why can’t he get back to Her?
4. Nier reincarnation seems to take place in a divergent branch in automata where the machine lifeforms won. What I don’t get is didn’t the machine network already assimilate the divine tree quantum server into its network? Yokotaro confirmed this and the copied city were why the Tower looks the way it does. And yet N2 is assimilated by Her instead? and why is N2 on the brink of destruction if the machines won? Or why N2 is suddenly plagued by guilt, this N2 seems to not be thinking about evolution at all.
5. at the lunar base, what is with all the broken pods collapsed on the ground?
6. in the ending, do the characters of the cage actually get to continue their lives in their respective worlds? This contradicts what Mama had said before, that they are just weapons and they get rest upon returning to their form but she let them all out in some paradise before where they can coalesce peacefully (which was then ravaged by the Watchers/machine network). It doesn’t seem to make sense that they can all continue their lives when the whole point was that they can’t correct history that’s already done. At the same time, why is it that Yuzuki and Hina can’t go back to their worlds?
7. any reason for why there were “good” blackbirds? Like the two sisters.
8. who was sending Yuzuki and Hina messages?
9. are the characters not able to somehow get to earth? I don’t understand why Fio is able to be reborn and gets to stay (Mama said she can only manage to let Fio do this, when Fio is just data).

Sidenote: not a question, but they did Levania’s character conclusion extremely dirty when the game kept hammering that his and Fio‘s relationship was the driving force of the last stretch and that they would get to play and dance together (even said Her can join them). Yet Levania is left completely alone, no Fio and no Mama.

I have an idea for a campaign (maybe with friends, maybe with randos) but my plans for it and how I imagine it playing out is making me doubt I'd actually want to play it with other people or if I'd rather write a story on my own.
So context with as few spoilers as possible in case I do run it: I want to run a campaign where all pcs have interwoven backstories in a particular way, having grown up together. I want them to accept having a shared npc babysitteaunt that goes missing to be a thread of mystery and I want a "plant" player to play a character that sacrifices their life against the bbeg to give the rest of the party a chance to escape, thus establishing personal stakes, an understanding of a the threat, and the connection to a ghost npc to give them hints if they're truly lost.
The plant player would have a back up (real) character ready to play once their "scapegoat" goes down, but I want to wait for the second or third session to pull the trigger to truly sell the illusion of real pc loss.
I'm not sure if most players would be willing to play a scripted to die character for multiple sessions, and I don't know how most groups would handle the required shared points in their backstories. But I also don't have any other points that I'd "need" them to do after the inciting incident, and outside of what I've laid out don't have any other scripts for them to follow.
Is there still enough breathing room for players to enjoy themselves/could these plans to establish emotional investments work or should I try to write a narrative on my own?

I didn’t know what other subreddit to put this in and I figured because it’s for a story I’m writing, this subreddit would work! My thing is that my character is a teenage boy attacking a middle aged man with a metal pole, he means to knock him out but I don’t know the specifics of knocking someone out in real life. Especially when you’re kind of unmatched with your opponent. I’ve been researching a bit but can’t find very much. I’ve seen that if you do hit them with a blunt object they wake up seconds or minutes later which is fine, I just want this to be realistic. Thank you!