Hopefully this isn’t downvoted instantly, because I know people seem to get strangely very defensive about Beast’s characterization in this run. I think there is a lot of miscommunication whenever a Beast fan complains about how he was depicted here. Often times people will discount those complaints because they think Beast fans just don’t want him to go bad, when that doesn’t really seem to be the whole truth from what I’ve seen. Ultimately, the complaints I raise and I have seen others raise are more about thinking the writing of his spiral in X-Force 2019 was not done well rather than that said spiral shouldn’t have happened at all. With the Krakoa era coming to an end, and “From the Ashes” having the now-rebooted Beast who is pulled all the way from his time on The Defenders, I don’t see any of the flaws here being addressed beyond characters casually referring to how bad he became. So I wanted to take this time in the in-between, where our new Beast is apparently just chilling on Wonder Man’s couch while the rest of the X-Men fight against Orchis and Nimrod, to once and for all lay out the flaws of Beast’s villainous era, and establish not that it shouldn’t have happened, but that it could have been way better.
Problem 1: A Lack of Pathos:
Most X-Men fans who have been reading for awhile will agree that it’s honestly surprising more mutants haven’t gone down a dark path. Their history is one of striving for acceptance, putting their lives on the line for people who would rather see them dead, and being rewarded with not one but multiple genocides on their population. Some of the most interesting stories can actually come from a formally “upstanding” mutant finally deciding enough is enough. When Cyclops went down his “villainous” path, it made a lot of sense. We’d seen him becoming more disenfranchised with the dream for years. We’d seen his trust in Xavier erode time and time again, and so when he decided to stop asking for acceptance and start demanding it, it was hard to blame him. Even as we saw most of his friends turn against him, that didn’t stop people from declaring “Cyclops Was Right,” because his perspective could easily be understood, and he did achieve results. More recently in X-Men ‘97, we saw Rogue go down a dark path in the wake of Genosha being wiped out, including Magneto and Gambit. Again, this was understood, and it was an interesting direction for her character.
This sort of turn would also make a ton of sense for Hank McCoy. Did you know that back towards the start of the original Uncanny X-Men run, Hank was actually the first X-Men we ever saw to leave the team and say that Magneto was right, after he and Bobby were attacked by an angry mob because Hank used his powers to save a young child? Over the years, one of Hank’s most recurring struggles and arcs is self-loathing and eventual acceptance of his condition. Hank has always been at his darkest when he’s trapped in his spiral of self-loathing, but when he comes out the other side, he tends to be one of the most optimistic mutants when it comes to coexistence with humans. He was out making connections and fighting alongside non-mutants before anyone else. Joining the Avengers and Defenders, speaking on behalf of mutant rights before congress, dating human women who were able to accept his appearance, blue fur and all. Until they weren’t… looking at you, Trish Tilby.
So with all of this in mind, it would honestly be an extremely interesting arc to see Hank, this optimistic mutant who has spent his life building bridges and making connections with humanity, to be slowly beaten down and start to believe peace is not an option. As one of the original X-Men, he has been there through every tragedy that struck the mutant population. And as one of the smartest X-Men, he has usually been at the center of these crises. He has seen advancements in science meant to eradicate the mutants. He has fought against viruses that threaten to drive them extinct. He was there in the wreckage of Genosha. He has seen countless friends killed again and again. He has suffered his own mutation evolving and making him less and less human-looking. He saw the development of a mutant “cure” and was tempted to take it. He has seen it all.
And so that brings us to Krakoa. This is the moment where the mutants as a whole decided enough was enough. If they could not be accepted by humanity, they would pack up and form their own nation, and they would force humanity to accept that they exist by developing life-saving drugs that other nations would have to rely on. And what is one of the first things that happens after the establishment of Krakoa? Hank witnesses assassins infiltrate the island and assassinate Charles Xavier. This right here is honestly the perfect setup for Hank to go darker than he has before. Even after literally segregating the mutant population from humanity, like humanity seemed to want, they still decided to come and kill the man at the forefront of the movement. And Hank, recently placed in charge of mutant black-ops, would likely see that all options are on the table.
Unfortunately, Hank’s actual pathos surrounding the decisions he would go on to make is not explored by the book itself. The book has no interest in detailing Hank’s fall from grace as we saw with Cyclops before him. The book just wants us to accept that Hank has already fallen. And in fact, according to the writing, maybe he never had anywhere to fall from. Any time a character in X-Force tries to ask important questions to understand Hank’s thought process, they are cut off. Usually by Wolverine saying “He’s always been like this.” And then on one occasion, when Wolverine asked Hank why he was doing all this dark shit, Hank said, “Didn’t you read the script? I’ve always been like this.” There is no attempt to examine Hank as a character. We don’t need to know why Hank makes the decisions he does, because this book wants Hank to be a black and white villain and so that’s what he will be. Why? Because he’s always been like this.
Problem 2: Rapid Escalation:
One of the major defenses people have when it comes to Krakoan Hank is that he has apparently been on the road to his villainous self for over a decade. The X-Force run itself loved to have characters spout a list of Hank’s previous “crimes” without any context involved, as justification for why he was acting the way he did in the current run. The problem is, that context is very important. Because it shows the disparity in the Hank of previous stories who made mistakes with good intentions vs the Hank of X-Force who did heinous shit because he wanted to. This was less a plane making a slow descent and more a plane that was slowly descending, but then its engines shut off and it plummeted into a fiery explosion.
To make this case, we need to briefly analyze the previous perceived transgressions of Hank McCoy to show what they actually meant for his character and how they differ from the Bond villain X-Force would present us with. Let’s start with Threnody. Somehow, Threnody became a bit of a buzzword for the beginning of the end for Hank. When people talk about the history of Hank and Threnody, they will usually present it as one of Hank’s worst sins, saying something like “Hank callously handed Threnody over to Mr. Sinister so he could experiment on and abuse her!!!” It kind of makes for some whiplash when you actually read the Threnody story people are talking about. Here is a brief rundown of what actually happens:
Threnody is a young woman who cannot control her powers. It causes her no end of grief, and when we are introduced to her, she is homeless and constantly in danger of hurting herself or others. Beast, Rogue, and Iceman come across Threnody who has been found first by Mr. Sinister. Sinister actually has a vested interest in curing the Legacy Virus, and believes he can help Threnody master her powers, at which point she will prove vital in his efforts to study said Virus. Notably, Threnody wants to go with Sinister here. While Rogue disapproves, Hank does believe that Sinister is actually Threnody’s best option, openly stating Sinister can actually help her gain control and the X-Men cannot, because, as Hank directly says, Sinister is willing to damn parts of his soul in pursuit of scientific enlightenment, and the X-Men are not. A few issues later, when breaking into Sinister’s base, Hank encounters Threnody again. She’s happy. Sinister did indeed help her control her powers, and she has been able to use her abilities to help mutants the world over, while also undermining Sinister’s more evil operations from the inside. Hank expresses relief, saying he was kept up at night by his decision to let her go with Sinister, but Threnody actually thanks him for letting her. And that’s it. That’s Hank’s big “crime” here.
Hank’s other “sins” are also of varying levels of severity. There’s the time “Hank worked with his evil self to cure the Legacy Virus!” when the actual story in question is Hank asserting that he won’t stoop to the levels of Dark Beast and compromise his values in the name of science. There’s the time “Hank sided with the Inhumans against the X-Men!” when the actual story is Storm sending Hank to Attilan to find a way to end the conflict between mutants and inhumans before war broke out. Hank runs out of time to find a cure for the terrigen mist cloud, suggests mutants get off-world in the meantime rather than go to war with the inhumans, is thrown into a cell by the other X-Men for his “betrayal”, and then freed at the conclusion of the war by a repentant Storm when it comes to light that the whole conflict was manipulated by Emma Frost. There’s the time “Hank risked the timestream by bringing the original X-Men to the present day!” A decision that was made on his perceived deathbed with the hopes of bringing his old friend Cyclops back to his side. Hank wants to take the young mutants back right away, but they refuse. And instead of others enforcing that they need to return, we actually see Kitty Pride decide to lead them in the present in memory of Charles Xavier. Notably, Kitty would be one of the many mutants in future issues who would yell at Hank about this.
The point of this post isn’t to absolve Hank of all fault. He has made countless mistakes and bad decisions. Regardless of the culpability of others, the pulling of the O5 to the present was his decision. During Secret Empire, Hank would turn a blind eye to Hydra’s activity simply to keep the mutants under his care safe. During all of this, however, Hank’s character was not compromised. He expressed despair and regret over his worse choices, and struggled with thinking he was a good person any longer. Again, going back to his recurring struggle with self-loathing. He had pathos behind his decisions and how they affected him, and would often reunite with Wonder Man as an opportunity to recenter and declare he would “be better tomorrow than he was yesterday.”
You would think, if the aim of X-Force was to turn Hank into a full-on villain, it would take advantage of the long-form storytelling of comics to chronicle that escalation. Like I said, the assassination of Charles Xavier is a great starting point for Hank to start going darker than he ever has before. The problem is, we don’t get an escalation. Hank starts the run by doing some of the most heinous shit imaginable. Regardless of your thoughts on the severity of Hank’s previous mistakes, none of them compare to his opening volley in this run. Hank uses telefloronics to override and genocide an entire country, leaving various people either completely dead or braindead. We later find out that during this time he also established a space station where he ran unethical experiments on prisoners like Krakoa’s very own Dr. Mengele. He then accuses his old ally Cyclops of conspiring with Russia against Krakoa, and calls forth the mutant population to witness as he parades a shamed Cyclops through its streets. Then he kills Wolverine and resurrects him as a mindless animal who he uses as an attack dog against his perceived enemies. This isn’t an escalation, this is a different character. And the aforementioned lack of pathos means that we don’t get to see him struggle with these choices. We don’t see his thought process as he becomes darker and darker. Why would we? “He’s always been like this.”
Problem 3: No Personality:
One of the most fun aspects of turning a protagonist into an antagonist is seeing how their personality works with a more villainous mindset. When Cyclops became an “antagonist” to the X-Men, he was still Cyclops. He stuck to his convictions, he was a great leader and tactician, and he was able to turn many mutants to his side because of this. We’ve seen an evil Beast before. The creatively-named Dark Beast is from an alternate future where Beast went down a dark path lacking ethics. The fun of this character, besides comparing his ideologies with our Hank McCoy, is seeing how Hank’s penchant for jokes or quotes now become far more sinister and cutting.
There’s a strange narrative that the jokey Hank is reserved for the Avengers while the Hank with the X-Men is all business and science. This isn’t entirely true. Early on when he was a member of the Defenders, Hank talks about this sort of thing. He essentially says that he wears different hats. While working with the X-Men, he used big words essentially to gain respect from both his teammates and humanity. But with other teams, and in his then-new furry form, he dropped all of that. His speech became more naturalistic and he was much more of a goofball. The thing is, it’s the speech patterns that truly change depending on who Hank is hanging with, not his personality. Hank with the X-Men and Hank with the Avengers are both jovial characters who like to tell jokes and quote philosophy. You can see Hank being a bit of a clown among the X-Men in various runs. So it’s not like it’s a given that Hank is some entirely different dry doctor devoid of any sense of humor when among the X-Men.
But this is how Hank is portrayed in X-Force. Part of why this version of Hank is so hard to reconcile with the rest of his history for fans of the character is that he just doesn’t act like himself, even when he isn’t actively committing war crimes. In one early issue of the run, we get a glimpse at Beast’s journal where he accounts a meeting he had with Forge. Now, Beast has been known to be a very physical character. He is often known to sweep others into a hug, or even plant a big kiss on their face in the case of characters like Wonder Man or Iceman. Meanwhile this one page where we read his thoughts on Forge is clearly pretending this is not the case:

I paid Forge a visit in the Armory – and I must say that he can be, like Logan, rather impossible. There is a certain locker room bravado about him I find perplexing, like a language I only half understand. For instance, he refused to shake my hand but instead dragged me into what he called a “bro hug.” Then he challenged me to a “feat of strength,” asking if I would test out this sappy “muck bomb” he had developed that – or so I gather – glues one in place. He wondered if a “big boy” like me might be able to thrash free of the binding. I refused him and said I very much would prefer to get down to business. He then referred to me as a “bookish peckerwood @#$%” but did so with a friendly laugh and clapped me on the shoulder hard enough to make me stagger. I’m not sure how to process this, honestly. Is he being friendly or cruel? Is it possible to be both?

Needless to say, this doesn’t read like Beast. It reads like an android that has never before felt human emotion. I remember before reading this I was theorizing that Hank had been switched with Dark Beast once more to explain his sudden escalation, but after this I realized that couldn’t be the case. Because this sounds like neither Beast nor Dark Beast. Dark Beast understood how to properly write Hank as a villain. He doesn’t suddenly become your typical made scientist devoid of emotion, humor, or basic human understanding. He still makes jokes that are now cruel. He still quotes literature in a way that paints him as a god among men. Hank going bad can be a fun read, but this run was not.
Problem 4: No One Cares:
Another important angle to consider when writing a story of a good person breaking bad is how it affects those around them. Those who are close friends to the person and find themselves disturbed by their current actions. Again, I return to Cyclops. Regardless of where you stand on if he was right or not, he was very much positioned as an antagonist to the mutants at the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning. Yet we see various friends of Cyclops still caring for him and wanting to pull him back from what they perceive as the dark side. Like I previously said, Beast’s whole reason for messing with the timeline was because he felt he was going to die and wanted to try to appeal to his old friend and bring him back around before he passed on. When someone good goes bad, part of the emotional core is seeing former friends try to appeal to their better nature, and even eventually deciding they’ve gone too far to turn back.
Not so with Hank in X-Force. Like I said, this run posits that this is not any kind of heel turn for Hank. This is how he’s always been. “Hank this isn’t you!” “No, he’s always been like this.” “Hank, turn back before it’s too late!” “Turn back where? He’s always been like this.” None of Hank’s friends give a shit. Hank’s best friend amongst the X-Men is Bobby Drake, Iceman, and we never once see any kind of confrontation there. Cyclops and Angel similarly doesn’t care. Now you could argue this is because X-Force is a secretive organization. Bobby and Scott don’t even know what Hank is doing. There are two issues with this. First, things reach a point where they would know. Hank’s actions become public knowledge, and Wolverine goes off to hunt him down while the rest of the X-Men just kinda look the other way. And second, there is someone with a lot of history with Hank that was a part of X-Force and did see everything that was going on. Jean Grey.
But we never get to see Jean wonder what’s happened to her close friend. Jean who was always incredibly close to Hank. Jean who, it was confirmed during the All-New X-Men era, had mutual feelings for Hank and might have started dating him had things been different. But no, Jean, like every character in this run, accepts that Hank has always been like this. That’s the answer to everything. So instead of some kind of emotional confrontation where she tries to appeal to his better nature, we instead have Jean yell at Hank, use her powers to throw him against a wall, and quit X-Force. And then most recently, we see her tell Firestar without hesitation to throw Hank under the bus for any heat that comes her way from her undercover mission. Because everyone will believe Hank is responsible for all the bad shit. Who the hell cares about Hank? According to this run, no one.
Conclusion:
I hope you can see the larger issue here. When Beast fans complain about his Krakoan era, people assume they just don’t want to see their favorite do bad things. But it’s practically accepted at this point in comics that most heroes will have a villain arc. Hell, Iceman is the only one of the original five X-Men who hasn’t gone down a dark path at this point. The problem is that everything about the writing of Hank during this time was just not done well. There is no exploration of Hank’s descent into villainy, and any questioning down that line is immediately shut down by the assertion that this is just who he’s always been. There isn’t any slow escalation because his first move is genocide. Hank is not even written as himself during this era, but rather as a generic bond villain. And none of Hank’s former close friends even show any emotion about his turn to villainy. An evil Hank story could easily work. We saw it with Dark Beast. A story where the former optimistic member of the X-Men has been beaten down so many times that he takes on a “whatever it takes” mentality could be interesting and emotionally resonant as we both understand what drove him here yet hate the man he’s become. But that isn’t what we got. We got a run that wrote him as a complete stranger and then had all the characters tell the reader that they were wrong for ever thinking he was anyone else.

I’m a relatively new dm (the home campaign has run for about a year and I’ve run a few one shots with other parties) and my writing style has been veering towards home brew from a lot of different sources. There’s been 3rd party and official settings that I’ve loved and added tons of flavor and some that showed some issues when I’ve run them. One of my favorites that I pulled from was ADnD Council of Wyrms with the Shadow of the Dragon Queen set and I was surprised at how much fun I had with it. I’ve been thinking about maybe trying Archeron/Two Little Mice’s Inferno: Dante’s Guide to Hell with Descent into Avernus. What are some combos of 3rd Party and Official releases that you’ve used that have worked surprisingly well? Conversely what are some that just did not mesh very well?

Credit to u/SpacePaladin15 for the NOP Universe.
Hey, I hope everyone's doing well!
Today we return to the namesake of this fic, an actual lesson about animals. This one focuses on Koalas! One of Australia's most recognisable critters. I hope you enjoy.
It's hardly worth mentioning, seeing as I'm an infrequent poster at the best of times, but I'll not have another chapter out for a few weeks due to limited free time and devoting most of my writing time to an upcoming ficnapping. Be sure to look out for that!
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Memory transcription subject: Rysel, Venlil Environmental Researcher
Date [Standardised human time]: 8th September 2136
“Koalas!”
Bernard’s energised voice boomed through the air as the classroom's monitor flickered into life, images of this paws lecture topic popping up one after the other until the entire screen was filled with a collage of furry quadrupeds.
Squee! I’ll never get tired of this, it’s all so cool!
As usual the sight of something new stirred immediate discussion, hushed murmurs swelling into vibrant discourse in little more than a heartbeat. Most of the class swiftly huddled together into small herds to bounce ideas around while the rest opted to stick to the solace of their own thoughts as they took in the display.
I’d be quite happy in either situation, though seeing as Sandi had already sunk into deep concentration and Kailo had peeled off to talk with Ennerif and Solenk, it seemed the decision had been made for me on this occasion. Wasting no more time on idle inspection of the people around me, I focused my full attention forward, eager to form first impressions before the lesson began in earnest.
Now then, time to make some educated guesses. What traits does this animal have? I wonder if I’ll get any right this paw?
Professional assumptions went paw-in-paw with the lectures, examining and coming up with hypotheses about the specimens was only natural. Recently however, I’d started to make a little game of it to make things even more interesting than usual. A veritable bonfire of ideas had been set ablaze within me, fueled by my newfound knowledge of Earthen wildlife. Every flash and spark of the flame was a fresh theory I could try to apply to the lectures. It was an invigorating exercise that further stoked my unceasing wonderment.
So far I’d only done this once during the previous class and, to my disappointment, I’d not done too well.
I was right when I guessed that chickens were omnivores, but wrong in my assumption that they could fly. And that red thing on their head, the um… what was it called? The comb! Yes, the comb. I thought that was to attract mates, but it regulates body heat instead. It’s fascinating. Oh! Stars damn it I’m rambling!
I bapped my tail against my leg, the soft thud being just enough to snap me back from my runaway thoughts before I went completely wall-eyed. I was becoming more and more accustomed to getting lost in my own head while remaining conscious of the fact; it was happening so frequently now that it was pretty much impossible not to. Now I was able to pull myself back to the world around me without having to rely on someone else shaking me out of it. Most of the time anyway.
Sandi still keeps an eye on me, and Kailo even decided to help out once without being too snide about it. Anyway where was I? Oh yeah, Koalas.
Glancing at the furred animals, two things immediately stood out. Firstly, their eyes were in a more central position on their face. And second, all the images showed them being on or close to trees. There were other noteworthy observations of course, such as the Koala’s prominent nose and rounded features, but they fell to the wayside as I honed in on these points first.
Hmmm… ok. I already know to discount the idea that they’re predators just from eye position, so let’s get that thought out of here. Maybe omnivorous? Herbivore? Agh no, I can’t just guess that for the sake of guessing, that’s the same problem! Hrm, it’s tough making these assumptions now that everything I thought I knew has been turned on its head.
Nevermind, I’ll focus on the other thing. All the trees make me think they’re arboreal, that seems to be a reasonable assumption. I wonder what else they-
Clearing his throat, Bernard broke my concentration, his call for attention silencing the murmuring conversation and redirecting everyone's focus to the lecturer's podium.
His gaze panned across the room as he waited for everyone to settle, a beaming smile lighting up his face, “As ever I’m delighted to see you all get so into the subject matter from the get go. I’m looking forward to hearing what you were discussing should you wish to share. For now though, how about we get started, hm?”
A chorus of merry bleats rang out from across the audience, ears and tails flicking happily in agreement. Bernard's grin grew in tandem with the class's fervour, clasping his hands together enthusiastically as he launched into the lesson, “Excellent! Then let’s get started.”
The pictures on screen dissolved away until only one remained, enlarging to cover the entire monitor with the fluffy grey face of a Koala peacefully reclining in the crook of a tree.
“Ah, there we are,” Bernard’s baritone timbre drifted through the room as he looked up at the image, his own tone reflecting the relaxed attitude of the animal on screen, “He looks so comfortable doesn’t he? Perfectly at peace with the world, not too surprising considering they sleep almost 20 hours a day. A full paw!”
A wave of beeps and gasps rippled through the herd, punctuated by a single yawn-dressed comment from Rova, “A full paw? Hwuuu… jealous.”
Her drowsy remark elicited several whistling giggles from the herd, Bernard's own jovial chortle joining them as he turned to face her, “Late evening Rova?”
I twisted a little in my seat, panning an eye in Rova’s direction just in time to see her bleary eyes bulge open and her ears shoot up, now intensely aware of the fact she hadn’t been as quiet as she thought she had.
Sitting up abruptly, she hastily tapped down errant tufts of wool that’d flared in surprise as she composed herself, though her nervousness at becoming the centre of the class's attention was still plain for all to hear, “Uh- I um… achem, a little bit yes, um- …sorry. Lokki dragged me out to a movie viewing in the rec centre. It went on pretty late.”
A melodramatic bray from the other side of the room drew everyone's ears away from Rova to the now aghast Lokki, paw splayed across his chest in faux indignation, “Dragged you? Well excuse me for trying to broaden your horizons with human movies. That’ll be the list time I- …Ahaaaa…”
Lokki’s theatrics were cut short by a heavy yawn of his own, a swell of whistling laughter rolling through the herd as vibrant bloom lit up his snout, a sight that elicited a particularly amused bleat from Rova.
Turning away from the duo I looked back at Bernard, pleased to see that he was chuckling along with us. Behaviour like Lokki’s would never have been tolerated in my school and university days but, in stark contrast, Bernard revelled in it, the liveliness of his students fueling his own bombastic style of teaching. It was a pleasant change of pace having a teacher who let us all be ourselves in class; provided we weren’t too disruptive to the lesson plan.
Speaking of which.
His laughter still rumbling through the air, Bernard clapped his hands to pull everyone's focus back to him, “Ok, ok, let’s get back to it then shall we? Rova. Lokki. Hopefully the two of you can stay awake long enough until you can grab yourselves a coffee.”
As the class settled down and the last few giggling beeps petered out, Benard pointed a hand to the screen, “So, the Koala. Let’s start simple shall we? They are herbivorous marsupials native to the eastern and southern coasts of Australia. Easily recognised the world over, they are a well known and beloved symbol of their homeland, along with other animals such as the Kangaroo and the Emu. The former of which you might remember from one of our earlier lectures.”
Indeed I did remember, along with how angry Bernard had gotten after some speh-head had derided the Yotul after he explained how he held specific disdain for such attitudes.
Uuuggghh… I never want to see him angry again. So chilling.
I shook my ears in an effort to dismiss the unpleasant memory, panning my eyes back to the monitor to try and distract myself by inspecting the Koala’s physical appearance once more. Thankfully, by some Star's blessed intervention, Bernard had the exact same idea.
“Koala’s are rather squat in stature, ranging around sixty to eighty-five centimetres in length and weighing little more than fifteen to sixteen kilograms at their full size. As you can see, the fur of this fellow before you is a lovely silvery grey, but their fur can also sport a chocolaty brown hue as well. Arguably the most distinctive part of their appearance is their head, being rather large for their body size and having rounded ears, a large nose, and a pair of small eyes. These are often brown but variations do occur.”
It didn’t slip past my notice that Bernard didn’t bother to point out that the Koala’s eyes were forward facing. I didn’t think he’d simply forgotten, so perhaps he just felt it wasn’t necessary given that he’d already stated it was herbivorous. Either way, no one stuck up a paw or tail to question him.
“Now this will hardly be surprising considering how long they sleep, but Koala’s are largely sedentary and it’s rather easy to see why when you have a look into the contents of their diet.”
With the press of a button the Koala on screen was replaced by images of vibrant green vegetation. Soaring trees and flowering shrubbery weaved together across landscape framed pictures pulled admiring trills from the herd, the diversity of the plant life being shown standing as a reminder that it wasn’t only animal life that flourished on Earth.
After giving everyone the chance to take in the picturesque scenes, Bernard casually hammered that point home, “This is eucalyptus or, more accurately, a choice selection of more than 700 plants belonging to the eucalyptus genus, though the Koala itself favours 30 of them in particular.”
700!? Stars…
Realising that my ears had drooped in my momentary awe, I twisted them back to tune into the lesson, only for them to splay out in shock at the next words to come out of Bernard's mouth.
“The leaves of these plants are the primary food source of the Koala and there are a couple things worth mentioning when talking about these plants. For starters they do not have much nutritional or caloric value, leading to the Koala’s low-energy lifestyle. Additionally, they contain toxic compounds.”
A shiver instantly ran through the herd, ears flicking rapidly in confusion and alarm followed by a few quizzical whispers. It didn’t take long for someone to decide to give a proper voice to the murmuring.
“Excuse me Doctor. Did we hear that right? Their diet is made up of toxic flora?” Vlek’s grumbling incredulity cut through the herd's mutterings with ease. Until Kailo’s recent change of heart, the fifty something rotation old blonde Venlil had been a close second in terms of scepticism. Mercifully his rebuttals had always been relevant questions as opposed to ranting diatribes, so he at least remained on topic if nothing else.
Bernard nodded in confirmation, smiling back at Vlek while absentmindedly twirling the end of his moustache, “You heard me right, they do indeed consume plants that are toxic. Just not to them.”
Any worry or uncertainty still clinging to the herd was swept away by the provision of the glaringly obvious answer, leaving me chuckling inwardly at the oversight.
Ah of course! The plant might be poisonous but they’ll have evolved to deal with that. Stars… I’m so used to expecting the unexpected with Earth that I didn’t even consider the simplest solution.
“I see, thank you Doctor,” Vlek replied, a tinge of interest still audible in his tone, “I assume they’ve developed some adaptation to become immune to the harmful effects?”
The question immediately evoked a smirk from our teacher, but he hurriedly suppressed it while bobbing his head, “They have indeed. There are several factors that aid in their digestion of eucalyptus leaves without succumbing to the plant's baleful properties. The first is a part of the intestinal tract called the cecum. It contains a microbiome that allows the Koala to digest the eucalyptus. Coupled with this is an enzyme in the Koala’s liver that helps them break down the toxins. They are also capable of sniffing out the plants with the least amount of toxins, ensuring that they ingest as little as possible.”
Pausing for a breath Bernard looked back at the screen before turning to face us, another grin curling at the edges of his mouth as he continued with his explanation, “This is mostly for adult Koala’s, because while their young also possess these same adaptations, they don’t just go straight to munching through foliage right after being born. No, they need a little help making that jump and getting a stomach full of all that good gut bacteria. It’s nothing bad, but those of a sensitive stomach may wish to prepare themselves for this next part.”
Bernard’s assurances did little to assuage the concern that his warning had foisted upon us. Having been exposed to so much of the weirdness Earth had to offer everyone always ended up on edge whenever Bernard gave advice like this, even if he did say it in jest.
What strange nonsense thing do Koala pups do then? Judging by the way he’s acting it probably isn’t something as simple as drinking milk from the mother. Hmmm…
“So,” Bernard began, snapping us from our pensive stupor, “Young Koala’s, known as joeys, have a gestation period of thirty-five days on average, which is approximately forty-two paws. Once born they travel from the birth canal to a pouch in their mother so that they can continue to develop and grow. In the pouch the joey finds and latches onto one of two teats and these provide the newborn with a steady stream of nourishing milk. It spends the next six to seven months growing in the pouch, its eyes, ears, and fur all developing as time goes on.”
Okay, interesting. But this is exactly how I thought it’d go. What’s different?
The unexpected normalcy of the Koala’s birth and growth cycle had calmed everyone's nerves, only to be replaced with an air of suspicion as we waited with rapt attention for Bernard to drop the other claw and upend our expectations like he always did.
Not wanting to keep us in further suspense he forged ahead, the tempo of his voice picking up as the smile started to crease his face once more, “Now to make the switch from milk to eucalyptus, the mother also feeds the joey a substance called pap. It comes from the cecum I mentioned earlier, and contains all the gut bacteria required to help the young Koala in making the switch to eucalyptus.”
He stopped and looked around, searching us for a reaction to what I felt was a rather bland statement of fact. What was it he was saying without actually saying? Koala pups drink milk to mature and then include this pap substance so that they can start eating plants. I don’t see what-
The cecum is part of the intestine.
I blinked.
I blinked again, the intrusive interruption scouring my brain clean of any other thought bar the one it’d just implanted itself in the forefront of my mind.
Oh stars. They-
“They eat their own poop!?”
The shocked bleat shattered the peace of the room to reveal that most if not all of us had come to the same tail curling conclusion. As the hall filled with unrestrained vocalisations of disgust, an ‘Ugh’ over here and a ‘Blegh’ over there, Bernard’s own bellowing laughter joined the throng of voices.
“Ha! Everytime! Each and every time. Clearly it doesn’t matter if my students are Human or Venlil. Whenever someone learns about the Koala’s dietary development the reaction is the same!”
Pleased with himself beyond reason, Bernard chuckled away while the rest of us grappled with this ghastly reality. While there were plenty of animals that feasted on things that ranged from simply unappealing all the way to the stomach churningly grotesque, I’d never heard of an animal that actively consumed the excrement of its own species. Benefits aside, the prospect of having to do that to survive to adulthood sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine.
Ewww… Stars, I hope I forget this feeling by 2nd meal. They’re serving sturen and magamroot stew later. I was really looking forward to it.
With the herds mood beginning to temper Bernard tapped the podiums controls, removing the verdant collage of eucalyptus to display several similar yet distinct environments, still chortling merrily to himself in the process, “Ok then, with that little foray into their diet complete, why don’t we look at their habitat in more detail? As you might imagine given their diet and arboreal nature, Koala’s live in forested regions, and can be found in tropical and temperate zones. About a century ago they were classed as a vulnerable species, however efforts were made to turn this around and increase their numbers. Sadly the largest factor in their decline was human activity, as the fertile lands that gave rise to their bountiful forests were coveted farm land for our settlements.”
It was strange to hear Bernard so matter of factly admit to humanity's negative impacts on other species. He’d alluded to such things in the past but always with an air of caution, carefully pawing the line between honestly answering a question while not painting humanity as uncaring and destructive. AKA, the ‘predators’ we’d all initially expected them to be.
Perhaps his comfort in making such admissions was a reflection of the class's comfort with him, for no one so much as batted an ear. Even Kailo, who I would’ve expected to jump at the chance to use this as a prime example of predatory danger, only flicked an ear in stern yet silent concern.
A cough from Bernard drew my attention back, a new picture on screen that showed a forest from a bird's-eye view. Drawn across the image were around a dozen ringed areas, some bordering one another while others overlapped to some degree. It took me a moment, but I soon recognised that what I was looking at was a map, the rings representing what I assumed to be territories. And it didn’t take much effort to guess who each one belonged to.
“From habitats we move onto behaviours, so let’s start with territories. Koala’s are solitary animals. Yes, despite being herbivores. Considering they’re only awake for roughly four hours of the day I can hardly blame them. Lots to do and not a lot of time to do it. Jokes aside, once they mature they are quite independent, carving out a little slice of land for themselves, as displayed in this example, called a Home Range. That is not to say they go it alone and leave everything else behind however. Rather, as shown in the map behind me, they live in their own space while still being part of a larger social group.”
With another press of his pad the picture was updated to show one of two symbols in each segment, along with a key to the side of the map displayed in helpful Venlang. A quick glance told me that the symbols were representing whether the territory belonged to a male or female of the species.
“As you can see there is quite a bit of overlap between different Koala’s territories. It is in these areas that most of the socialising takes place between neighbours. The trees in these locations represent the few areas where intrusion across territories is acceptable for the sake of social interaction. Outside of that the Koala’s stick to their own territories for the most part, with the exceptions of Koala’s who are passing through, attempting to become part of the social group themselves, or dominant males who sometimes go off into another Koala’s range. But how do they know where one range begins and another range ends you might ask? Well, this brings us onto the next part of the lecture. How do Koala’s communicate?”
Wiping away the map from the monitor, Bernard loaded up a video of a Koala sitting in a tree and pressed play. Head held high, the Koala’s body shook as it belted out a reverberating call into the wilderness that could only be described as a garbled combination of a car engine failing to turn over mixed with the hiccups of someone with a particularly sore throat.
That’s how they sound? Oof that must be rough on the lungs.
I clearly wasn’t the only one to share such a thought, because I clocked Sandi tracing a paw along her neck as the noise went on, ears fluttering in discomfort at the noise.
Bernard himself cleared his own throat as the video came to an end, minimising it and replacing it with another image of a tree with a Koala rubbing up against the bark, “I think they’ve got me beat on who’s got the deeper voice!”
His joke garnered several amused beeps, a rare reaction that caused a beaming smile to shine across his face at lighting speed, “Oh you’re too kind. I’ll be here all week. Now where were we? Oh yes! Communication. As you’ve just heard, Koala’s are capable of loud low pitched bellows that can carry over vast distances. These express everything from ‘Hello I’m over here’ to ‘This is my turf, stay away’. Bellowing is more common in the males than the females, opting for shouting matches as opposed to outright fights when it comes to asserting dominance. Other vocal expressions include grunts, wails, and snarls if they’re acting particularly angsty. Mother and joey pairs also communicate through gentle clicking, squeaking, and murmuring sounds. And there’s one more thing worth mentioning. Something they have in common with Humans and Venlil when it comes to emoting.”
Really? They do something we do?
Curious, I pressed myself against the desk, straining as close as I could to once more scrutinise the Koala’s features. Not a lot stood out to me at first, the grey marsupial not sharing many similarities with a Venlil that I could identify.
Ok think. We show emotion with our ears, tails, and our wool on occasion. They don’t have tails so it’s obviously not that. Wool standing on end is more a reaction than a conscious expression. So it must be the ears then.
To my quiet satisfaction, my hunch was soon validated by Bernard, “As well as their vocalisations, Koala’s are very emotive through their facial features. Just like humans, they use their mouths and lips to show how they feel, but these tend more towards the aggressive side of the scale than what you might see on a human. Regarding yourselves however, Koala’s utilise their ears in tandem with their mouth movements when showing strong emotion.”
I was delighted to hear that my assumption was correct, a little happy flick twisting out through my tail and bapping against my chair with a muted thump against the plastic.
Hehe yes! Got one right!
“Now then, we are getting close to lunchtime so I’ll finish this segment off with something I think you’ll find particularly interesting. Diplomacy.”
Perplexed mutterings followed in the wake of the bizarre inclusion to the lecture, my own thoughts being dominated by bewilderment as I tried and failed to make sense of how the two could possibly be related.
Why would Koala’s, or any animal for that matter, be linked to diplomacy? Hmmm...
I could understand dispatching exterminators to deal with a predator issue as a show of goodwill, that at least includes animals, but Humans aren’t like that so I think I can safely scratch that off the list.
Maybe the humans who live in that region benefited from Koala’s in some way. Could they have gotten something from them? But what?
Hopefully not what the pups get from their mothers.
Agh no! Begone awful intrusive thoughts. Blegh! I don’t need that in my head.
As I wrestled with the short-lived revulsion inflicted upon me by my Star's damned subconscious, Bernard placed a new image on screen, one that was decidedly different from all that had preceded it.
On screen were more than a couple dozen pictures of humans. Some were pictured alone while others congregated in large groups while cameras surrounded them from all angles. Across all the images, I noted two common themes. First of all, a solid majority of the humans were wearing formal wear similar to what I’d seen worn by UN representatives on TV. If the gaggle of journalists in the background of the photos didn’t already confirm my suspicions, then it was this similarity which made me conclude they were all people of some importance. Likely politicians judging from context clues.
Secondly, each of the individuals was interacting with a Koala in some form. Some cradled one against their chests while others were feeding it eucalyptus leaves or pellets of some kind. One of the assumed politicians had become an impromptu bed for a snoozing bundle of fur, a gleeful smile spread across their face as they lovingly gazed down at the sleeping Koala in their lap.
As I continued to stare at the assorted photos something clicked into place, a sudden spark flickering into life. A burgeoning light of comprehension that flared and swelled with every wide-eyed breath I took. Some things still escaped me, things I hoped would soon be explained, but in staring at all of the humans happy smiling faces, I was struck with an instant of pure understanding.
If someone, say a Nevok for instance, offered to gift me a creature that was common to them but which might exotic and breathtaking to a Venlil, how could my feelings not be swayed? How could I walk away from that encounter and not have grown closer to them as a result?
“Koala diplomacy,” Bernard waved his hand up at the monitor, a slight reverence in his tone, “My favourite kind of soft power diplomacy. Where political leaders take photo ops with Koala’s and, on occasion, the Australian government loans Koala’s to other nations for a time to bolster positive relations. It certainly helps that Koala’s are a beloved animal worldwide, drawing large crowds and revenue for countries fortunate enough to host the adorable critters.”
The truly alien concept predictably sparked instant discussion in the herd, two polar opposite schools of thought swiftly cementing themselves as the most popular opinions. Simultaneously, I heard one voice trill excitedly while another scoffed at what they clearly saw as a ridiculous and offensive notion.
“Squee! That’d be so cool! I’d love to get the chance to see a Liri from Coila. Remember the Rainbow Boa? Think of that shimmering effect and colour but put it on a bird! Ah! I’ve only heard their song on video. It’d be a treat to hear it in person!”
Ooo! I’ve read about them! I’d love to get up close to one.
“Loaning. As if animals are property to be hoarded and traded? Pugh! Another predatory trait the humans don’t want to acknowledge for what it is.”
Ugh, typical. Jump right to the worst possible option.
However, despite my dismissal of their disparaging fumings, an uncomfortable thought pressed upon my mind. While it was plain to see how much humans cared for the Koala, it didn’t change the fact that humans did keep animals as property just as the scornful herd member had said.
This begged a rather important, disquieting question. Aside from keeping some animals as cattle, a stomach tightening minefield I had no desire to step a claw onto right now, how else did humans keep other creatures. And how did they treat them?
Before I was fully conscious of doing it my paw was in the air, the question primed on my tongue.
Noticing my elevated paw Bernard pointed at me, smiling warmly, “Yes Rysel? What’s on your mind?”
Sorry Bernard. I hope this one’s not too awkward for you to answer.
Flicking my ear in appreciation, and waiting for everyone to settle enough so that I could be heard, I voiced my concerns as neutrally as possible, “Thank you Doctor. I uh, just had a thought. We know that humans keep certain animals for… particular reasons, and we know why. From how you’ve spoken about Koala’s I think it's fair to say that the same cannot be said for them. However, this makes me wonder, what other reasons do humans have for keeping animals and how do you treat them?”
A flash of surprise blinked across Bernard's eyes but vanished so quickly that it felt like I’d imagined it. Had he not expected such a question? Maybe he was just shocked that it’d been me who’d ended up asking it?
Stars, am I so predictable that no one expects me to ask difficult questions?
Unfortunately, a quick glance at my deskmates seemed to prove that to be the case, as both Sandi and Kailo were looking at me with differing degrees of astonishment flapping in their ears.
Well speh.
“A very good point Rysel, certainly one that’s worth raising. Yet another example of you all anticipating what I have to say before I can bring it up myself.” Bernard tapped the podium, switching off the monitor before returning his focus to me, “We won’t be needing that. I’ve nothing prepared that I can show you and we’re heading to lunch in a few minutes anyway. Still, that’s plenty of time to give you a bit of an answer.”
A bit? What does he mean just a bit?
Made even more curious by Bernard's preempted admission that he wasn’t going to fully answer my query, I dialled both my ears on him, fixing him with an inquisitive stare as he started to explain with a tone that was noticeably more nonchalant than any of his previous explanations.
“So, animals in captivity for reasons other than what you already know. Honestly I would love to delve into other reasons regarding why we keep animals. However, I have a lesson plan in the works that I hope to share with you all in the not too distant future. Some of it touches upon this very topic and I’d quite like to bundle it all together. That said, I can tell you how animals in captivity are treated. In short, the answer is very well. There are a mountain of laws both on private and public interests that govern the standards and ethical treatment of animals, and breaches of these laws are quite severe even for relatively minor infractions.”
While I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed by the vague answer to what was really the bulk of my question, I was at least satisfied by Bernard’s assurances that animals in captivity, such as the Koala, were well looked after. Considering the barely subdued grumbling coming from some corners of the audience it was clear that several of the herd didn’t believe Bernard outright, but I trusted him to be honest. Additionally, the mention of an upcoming lecture focused on humans keeping animals caused quite the buzz.
I felt a mix of excitement and trepidation at exploring the topic further. He’d pretty much confirmed we wouldn’t be talking about cattle farms, for which I was relieved, but that still left a huge amount of uncertainty in what was to come.
Humans keeping animals as cattle was a forgone conclusion. As horrifying as that reality was, it was one I could understand from a detached and strictly clinical point of view. Being predators they ate meat and therefore they kept cattle. But the concept of keeping animals for any other reason baffled me.
What could be the purpose? The diplomacy thing makes sense now that I have context, but what other reasons could they have.
The class's discussions were interrupted by the recognisable ring of the break bell, the shift in attention eliciting a change in conversation from confused hypotheses to peppy conversation on how everyone was planning to spend their break and what they had in mind for 2nd meal.
“Well I can see everyone’s excited for lunch, and who am I to disappoint,” chuckling Bernard waved us all up from our seats, pocketing his pad from the podium and heading to open the classroom door for us, “Enjoy your break, get a good rest along with a hearty meal, and I’ll see you all back here at the usual time.”
As everyone else filed out I stayed behind, waving at Sandi and Kailo as they left, and pawing over to Bernard once he and I were the only ones left in the room.
Ears folded down and with an apologetic tinge in my voice I greeted him as I sidled up to him, “Hey Bernard, I uh… sorry if that last question was unexpected.”
Chortling in reply, Bernard waved a hand through the air in a sign I’d come to understand meant ‘not a problem’.
“No need to apologise Rysel. It was a good question and most certainly not a problem.”
Heh, called it.
I sighed, allowing tension I didn’t realise I’d been holding to relax itself from my shoulders, “Phew, that’s a relief. I’m glad. I’m curious to hear what this new lesson is you’ve got in store for us by the way.”
Bernard wagged a finger at me, throwing up his eyebrows in mock amazement, “Oh are you now? Well I’m afraid you’ll have to remain curious for the time being. It’s going to be quite the surprise if all goes to plan. But…”
He trailed off, glancing at me before looking to the door like he was making sure no one else was around.
Wait, is he going to tell me? Oh please yes let me know now!
Stopping myself from jumping on the spot in excited anticipation, and trying my damndest to stop my tail from wagging in equal measure, I stared up at Bernard as he stewed in his thoughts before turning back to face me.
“I can’t tell you the specifics, but I’m working with Alejandro and Tolim to get something together. A trip that’s not a trip as it were. And when it happens, I’m going to need a few of the more accepting members of the class to lend me a hand. I’m hoping you and a couple others will be able to help with that?”
A trip that’s not a trip? What does that mean? Agh who cares about that right now! Bernard’s relying on me to help out!
Still trying not to keep myself from bouncing around with pup like glee I swished my tail and nodded my head in joint agreement, happy to help with whatever Bernard had in store for us, “Of course! Anything you need I’ll be there to lend a paw. You can count on me!”
A broad warm smile lit up Bernard's face, a hand patting me on the shoulder in appreciation, “Thank you Rysel. I knew I could rely on you but it still warms my heart to hear it. And, as thanks for this and for the many times you’ve shown your support, the surprise includes a little something special I think you’d appreciate the most.”
If my earlier enthusiasm had been at a nine, then the implication of a supposed gift sent it rocketing all the way to a hundred in a heartbeat.
“Wait… WHAT!? What do you mean? What are you doing?”
As impossible as it seemed, Bernard's grin grew even wider as I almost lost myself in wool shaking exhilaration, “Call it my own form of Koala diplomacy. But I’m afraid that’s all I can say for now. Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise even for you!”
“Oh you ass!” Whistling jovially I bapped my tail against Bernard’s leg in fake indignation, evoking a barking bellowing laugh from the man himself.
Still laughing, the two of us departed the class and made for the canteen, my rumbling stomach leading me on while my mind spun with fantastical thoughts as to what Bernard had prepared for us.
And what specifically he had in store for me.

Hey and hi! I previously posted these Character Chats in order to fill the void when the comic was on involuntary hiatus, and I'm pleased to hear that it was received positively and people were asking for more. I couldn't really commit to it once the hiatus was over, since I've got a job and all. But good news, my whole team got laid off! I've got a lot more time on my hands now, so I think I'll keep this series going for a few weeks on Tuesdays and Thursdays or so. If anyone complains about me surfing reddit at work during my notice period... well, what are they gonna do, fire me?
Today my giant novely ouija board has selected Prince Aaronev Tarvek Sturmvoraus. Our first Spark, and first main character, but somehow our third Valois out of five picks.
Tarvek is a member of the large and complicated Valois family tree, descended from our pal Andronicus Valois, the Storm King. He is the son of Prince Aaronev Sturmvoraus VI of Sturmhalten and an unknown mother, and the older brother of Anevka Sturmvoraus. He and Anevka share the same grandmother with the von Bliztengaard siblings and Violetta, making them all cousins. The Selnikovs may also be close family members, as their main residence is in Sturmhalten. Tarvek also calls Zulenna a cousin at one point.
The Storm King conspiracy among the Fifty Families was said to be fizzling out in the time before the comic, but the Mongfish family (i.e. Lucrezia) got involved and whipped them all into shape. Besides making most of the Knights of Jove Lucrezia loyalists, part of this involvment was ensuring there was a suitable male heir to the Storm King using Spark sceince, which ended up producing, at minimum, Tarvek and Martellus von Blitzengaard. The degree to which Tarvek's mother was involved and consenting is unknown. While we don't know how much was done, Tarvek is a powerful Spark, physically fit, and quite intelligent, so mission accomplished I suppose (though Tarvek does wear these tiny pince-nez around, so he may have poor vision - nice going, Lucrezia).
We don't have a family tree or anything, so we need to take the story's word that Tarvek's claim for being a direct heir of Andronicus is one of the most direct, if not the strongest overall. Two of the strongest claimants, Tarvek and Martellus, share a grandmother, so presumably their legitimacy is either through her or her late husband. Grandmama is once referred to with the title "Dowager Princess of Sturmhalten", it's possible Aaronev inherited his title as Prince of Sturmhalten by being her son. On the other hand, Tarvek also says that his descent comes down through his mother, so maybe she's Grandmama's child instead? Or it's wrong to trace back things to this set of grandparents after all? The family tree is thrown for another loop when Orotine declares Martellus a third-place heir rather than the commonly assumed second-place, so now who's in second place and how's that guy related to Tarvek's family tree, and... it's at this point I throw up my hands in exasperation.
Tarvek spent some of his early childhood as a political hostage on Castle Wulfenbach, being raised with other hostages by von Pinn. Tarvek recalls this time fondly, and in particular became good friends with Gil, whose identity was still hidden. When the two of them were hunting for secrets, hoping to discover Gil's lineage, they discover a red-herring left by the Baron. While Tarvek didn't buy it and tried to dig further, he got caught. Along with some snitching from Gil, this got him expelled from the Castle. Of course, everyone was spying abord the Castle, and Tarvek was just the only one kicked out. My assumption is that the Baron wasn't worried about Gil's identity being exposed, but didn't approve of Gil getting close with Tarvek for one reason or another and arranged to destroy the friendship.
He spent his remaining childhood in Sturmhalten, where he was wrapped up in family scheming, including Aaronev's schemes with the Other. Besides Aaronev, he also spent time with Anevka and Violetta during this period, and received some Smoke Knight training. He later goes to Paris for his higher education, where he was a good student and made friendships with influential young people like Colette and Neena. He was also involuntarily dragged into Gil's college adventures, where he became, uh, "acquainted" with disreputable characters like Bangladesh Dupree and Zola. He's called back to Sturmhalten after completing his education.
As a young adult, Tarvek's goals are initially to learn all he can from the Other conspiracy in Sturmhalten, destroy them afterwards, use this knowledge to overthrow the Baron, become Storm King, get the Fifty Families under control, and bring peace and prosperity to his new empire. However, Aaronev is in charge in Sturmhalten, and has different ideas. Tarvek detests his father and the Other conspiracy he's involved with, but cooperates with them to stay in their good graces and learn all he can. Tarvek attempts to act as a moderating influence on Aaronev, but Aaronev is too far gone to pull back. Aaronev ends up capturing nearly all the young female Sparks in Europa beneath the Baron's nose, and destroys them utterly trying to implant copies of Lucrezia into their minds, while Tarvek doesn't do much more than watch.
Aaronev eventually subjects his daughter Anevka to the treatment, nearly killing her. The Circus of Adventure happens to be in town, and as an expert on the Muses, Tarvek recognizes Tinka as a van Rijn original when she performs. Tarvek has his men abduct Tinka, and uses her as the basis for building a masterpiece clank which would connect to Anevka's mind and allow her to move and speak while her body was comatose. For what it's worth, he does try to pay the Circus after the fact, but they naturally ran like hell out of town. Tinka is eventually damaged beyond his ability to repair by Aaronev.
After this, he also conspires (or pretends to conspire) with Anevka to use her clank body's voice box to imitate Lucrezia's ability to command revenants, and use that ability to overthrow Aaronev and the Baron. When the Circus comes back to town with Agatha in tow, she's found out as Lucrezia's daughter at a show, with more beans being spilled later when Agatha's drugged with a truth serum. Aaronev tries to throw her in the Lucrezia-machine, but Anevka launches her coup right then, and finalizes her voice box by studying Agatha's own voice. Tarvek, having fallen for Agatha basically immediately, attempts to smuggle Agatha out of town under Anevka's nose, but the Geisters eventually get Lucrezia in her head anyway.
Tarvek, at this point, wants to integrate Agatha into his plan to use Other technology to usurp the Baron, which means keeping her safely at his side. This means both cooperating with Lucrezia to learn from her to begin with and protect Agatha's body, and also sabotaging Agatha's efforts at surrendering herself to the Baron for the greater good. One his deals with Lucrezia is making a clank head imprinted with a Lucrezia copy, designed to fit onto Avenka's clank body. Tarvek lures in Anevka for Lucrezia, and after some back-and-forth betrayals, eventually deactivates Anevka's head and puts her in storage, essentially killing her for the time being. Juggling Agatha, Lucrezia, and now a second Lucrezia proves too much for Tarvek once the Baron's troops arrive in Sturmhalten, and he ends up slashed in the gut, shot, and abandoned in the ensuing chaos.
Tarvek ends up in the Great Hospital in Mechanicsburg, as one of many of the injured from Sturmhalten. Violetta, who had been assigned to Mechanicsburg by Tarvek to keep her out of the proverbial firing line, manages to get him out of custody in the hospital... but inside of Castle Heterodyne instead, which is something of a lateral move. After connecting up with Agatha, Taevek comes down with Hogfarb's Respelendent Immolation, either due to traipsing about Castle Heterodyne of all places while wounded, or, Tarvek speculates, as a poisoning attempt from his own extended family. Gil is recruited to help with curing him, and after extensive bickering, infections, distractions, complications, and one apotheosis, he's back in good health. Tarvek attempts to help fix the Castle, and aid Agatha however he can, including fighting with Lucrezia and Vole, and attempting to strangle Zola. His bickering with Gil during this time mostly puts him on the defensive and has Tarvek trying to justify his actions, but he eventually does has a quiet epiphany.
He eventually gets grabbed by Other in a case of mistaken identity, and his quick analytical skills wind up placing him in charge of the Wulfenbach fleet's grand strategy temporarily - it's at gunpoint, but Boris assesses that he's really doing what's in the best interest of the Empire. He has to scurry off when Klaus comes onto the scene, placing him in a perfect position to recruit the Empire's Vespiary Squad and their weasels when Klaus turns on them. Notably, he risks life and limb rescuing a squad member, who he needs of course, but also Jorgi, who mostly annoys him. He sends the Vespiary Squad to hiding places abroad. As the battle for Mechanicsburg wraps up, Tarvek ends up stabbed with a poisoned dagger by Martellus just before the time-stop.
Post time-skip, Gil dedicates extensive resources towards getting Tarvek out of the time stop. Tarvek isn't able to do much before being kidnapped by the Immortal Library, and then kidnapped by Mister Obsidian on behalf of Grandmama. He does manage to breathe a bit in Paris, before being kidnapped by Mister Obsidian again on behalf of Seffie, to be sent to England. But en route aboard a pirate vessel, he's (shockingly) interrupted by a kidnapping attempt, this time for Grandmama again. Martellus sent assassins after Tarvek to interrupt the interruption, leading to bloody battle between Seffie's pirates, Grandmama's Smoke Knights, Martellus' Knights of the Hunt, and poor Tarvek. After being rescued by Gil, Tarvek flips the script, and he and Bang kidnap Gil instead, changing course to England.
In England, he can finally, you know, not get kidnapped for a bit. He decides to join Agatha in the Royal Society, and despite nearly getting strangled by Higgs, manages to reach Agatha and help work on curing her of Lucrezia, and curing Gil of Klaus. After interminable delays like a undersea cult, briefly seeing beyond time, punching Tweedle, and a revenant attack, they eventually pull it all off.
Later, in the war against the Polar Lords, Tarvek is essentially given the role of Gil's official treacherous vizier. On paper, helping the Empire helps keep him safe to further his own ambitions, but in practice, Tarvek seems more focused on doing good by his friends than anything to do with becoming Storm King.
Whew! And that's the short synopsis!
As a Spark, Tarvek's specialty is masterwork clanks in the van Rijn mold. His Anevka clank maintains full sentience even after any organic parts it was attached to died off, and continues to be used by Lucrezia to devastating effect. He also has a knack for rapid analysis, such as being able to understand the Wulfenbach fleet's strategy with just a glance. It's possible his political aptitude, scheming skills and ability to anticipate people's actions are a byproduct of his spark, but it may also just be the natural result of his upbringing. He is unusually composed for a Spark, and is very rarely seen in the Madness Place, and never for very long.
Beyond the Spark and his cunning, Tarvek also received some Smoke Knight training, making him skilled in martial arts and sleight of hand. That said, he'd prefer not to get in fights, and his first resort use his Spark or guile to get out safely (his second resort is just shooting them, with a gun). He also has a passion for fashion design, particularly lady's fashion.
Besides his conquer-Europa ambitions, Tarvek seems primarily driven to help and protect the people he loves, but his preferred tactics for doing so are often underhanded, or screw over people that he doesn't particularly love. Tarvek is the kind of guy who has to come to the conclusion that mind-control slavery is bad in general, rather than bad for people I know. He does come to that conclusion on his own, so kudos for that, but for a lot of people it's not even something you have to think about. Tarvek is also quick to use "they'd kill me if I tried, I had no choice" as a defense, but never quite understands that there was always a choice available he didn't consider - die trying. That all said, Tarvek is in generally improving his character over time, and wants to do the right thing, both in the "greater good" sense and doing right by other people individually, and finds himself frustrated at himself that he's often failed. I don't want to discuss Tarvek's ethics too much further here, since there's a great deal to talk about and this is supposed to be a discussion thread! Why do I have to do all the work?
Major Relationships:

• Agatha: Tarvek fell for Agatha pretty damn hard, internally logging her as "future bride", and even at his scummiest times in Sturmhalten was trying to act in her best interest, and just ignoring what she actually wanted and also fucking it up anyway. By the time of the Castle arc, Tarvek has mostly thrown away all of his own ambitions in favor of working for Agatha's, even in moments when he feels pretty hopeless about his actual prospects as a suitor. One major advantage in his court is that he's able to actually articulate his feelings like an adult.
  
• Gil: It's been a true roller coaster for these two, from friends to enemies to rivals to allies to secret lovers. It takes a great deal of bonding for their distrust of one another to fall away, and after the time skip Tarvek lists Agatha and Gil (and, by implication, Violetta) as the only people left he really cares about, and the two of them spend a lot more time hugging than you would have expected.
  
• Violetta: Tarvek spent a good deal of his childhood with Violetta, and earnestly tried to protect her. In natural early-Tarvek style, it was by ignoring her wishes and leaving her in the dark, but points for trying. They have a bickering siblings type of relationship, and Violetta is fine trash talking him despite the power imbalance between them. Tarvek is pretty disappointed that he's rebuffed when trying to sincerely express that he's glad she's alive, since she expects childish taunts out of him.
  
• Aaronev: Tarvek really hates Aaronev for all the horrible things he's done, especially for putting Anevka through the machine, and spends about two seconds mourning after he's killed. Tarvek had been play-acting as a loyal son for years, and it's a bit tragic that Aaronev bought his act wholesale - what little interaction we see suggests that Aaronev, scumbag that he is, did really like Tarvek.
  
• Anevka: Tarvek did not take it well when it seemed Anevka was going to die, and went to extreme measures to save her. But Tarvek doesn't assign the same level of personhood to the Anevka clank after the original Anevka dies (he's generally not the best at the whole "clanks are people too" concept), and eventually "kills" her by turning her off and throwing her head in a box, where she probably still remains if Sturmhalten hasn't been razed to the ground.
  
• Lucrezia: While most people hate the Other on a conceptual level, Tarvek has spent enough time with her to really begin to hate her on a personal level. He's aware of her foibles, such as her susceptibility to flattery, and tries to take advantage when he can. His more personal knowledge also makes him better able to detect when Lucrezia is taking over for Agatha than most.
  
• Higgs: Like many, Tarvek cottons on that Higgs has a secret in Castle Heterodyne. Tarvek does try to keep it under his hat and make excuses on his behalf, but can't resist teasing Higgs despite him being incredibly dangerous. Tarvek openly confronting Higgs about his identity later on nearly gets him strangled to death. Despite that, Tarvek and Higgs have formed a good rapport, and have solid mutual respect. He's even one of the people Tarvek pours his heart out to when he thinks Violetta is dead.
  
• Neena: Neena has a bit of a crush on Tarvek, and Tarvek for his part does some light flirting at the ball but otherwise doesn't think about her much at this point. It's an odd match for someone like Tarvek, since Neena is earnest, enthusiastic, and completely lacking in guile. Maybe that's exactly what someone like him needs - stranger things have happened!
  
• Martellus: As two men aiming for the same throne, Martellus and Tarvek are natural enemies. Tarvek obviously dislikes Martellus - and even gets a good punch in - but doesn't take any moves to stop Martellus' forward momentum, and makes no moves towards legitimizing his claim as Storm King beyond not being dead. His strategy may be to just give Martellus enough rope to hang himself with, but it may also show genuine disinterest in this whole Storm King business.
  

My wife, Mia, and I were driving cross-country. It was our first attempt at the “Great American Roadtrip.”
Mia and I rented a small RV; more of a camper than a full blown RV. We packed up a couple suitcases with plenty of room for any souvenirs and we hit the dusty trail.
We started our journey on the “Mother Road”-- Route 66-- driving south from Chicago until we connected to i-70 and shot straight west through Missouri.
The goal was to see those parts of the country we had never seen before, stopping anywhere that seemed interesting. From the plains of Kansas up through the badlands of Wyoming and South Dakota.
In Missouri we saw the world’s largest cap gun. In Kansas we visited the Evel Knievel Museum and the World’s Largest Belt Buckle.
We love all those kitschy, tourist trap places.
Eventually, we made it to Colorado and after a few hours more of driving through amber waves of grain, we saw them... the Rocky Mountains.
We made an exit and headed north through the winding mountain highways.
The Rockies were gorgeous. Snow capped in the middle of summer, some of the peaks pierced through the white fluffy clouds.
We saw a sign that read “Traffic Tunnel - 3 Miles.”
A little further and sure enough, there it was, a large tunnel bored directly through the mountain in front of us.
A large sign read, “Pike Tunnel - Longest Traffic Tunnel in the Nation! - Please turn your headlights on now.”
“How long is it?” asked Mia.
“That’s what she said,” I quipped.
But she was right, there was no information beyond the detail that this was the longest tunnel in the nation.
“Can’t be more than a mile or two,” I said as I watched the little white car ahead of us slip into the darkness. A moment later we joined it.
The tunnel was lit by fluorescents that gave everything a greenish yellow tinge. On the left hand side was a raised walkway behind a railing for maintenance access.
Initially I was struck by the incredible amount of work that went into the construction of this man- made marvel.
“We’re under a million tons of rocky mountain right now,” I said.
“How many years before this caves in?” Mia responded.
I shot her a look--
“Let’s save the cave-in talk until we’re out on the other side.”
“I’m just saying, nature will take this back eventually,” she continued.
I scanned the empty road ahead of us.
“Where did the other car go?” I asked.
We were now alone in the tunnel, no cars ahead of us nor behind us.
“Huh... they must have sped off ahead. Maybe they’re scared of a cave-in?”
My Spotify playlist had stopped playing. Mia looked at the phone.
“No cell service.”
She turned on the radio and spun the dial only to find static.
“You’re not going to be able to pick up a station in here,” I said.
She turned the volume down.
“Just wanted to check... If only we had some CDs. This tunnel really keeps going.”
“I would have thought we’d be through it by now,” I replied.
I looked at the RV’s odometer, 45,600 miles. I picked up speed. I wanted to try and catch up to the little white car.
Up until this point, the tunnel was a straight shot, but now the tunnel started to curve to the right. It may have been my imagination but it also felt as though we were descending…
Mia felt it too and she started to get antsy.
“Where did that other car go? How long is this tunnel?”
There was an urgency in her voice.
I was getting nervous, claustrophobia was not usually a problem for me but when I looked down at the odometer and I saw that it had gone up by 3 miles, my mind began to wander to unsettling places.
We were descending in altitude. I could feel it. I could see a slope in the lights on the ceiling and the railing of the maintenance walkway. I could feel a pressure in my head, and I was getting cold.
“Could you grab me a coke from the back, Mia?”
I couldn’t have Mia getting anxious, that would only start a chain reaction and make me freak out which would then make her freak out.
She unbuckled and ducked into the back of the RV to where we had a cooler stocked with drinks and food.
Just as she stepped into the back, I saw something.
There standing on the side of the road was a MAN wearing a reflective safety vest and a hard hat. He was WAVING to me as I passed him by.
Something about him looked... strange…
I watched him in the side-view mirror as we passed and he was still watching the RV, still waving at the back of our vehicle as he faded into the distance.
Mia reappeared from the back of the RV, Coke in hand. She popped it and handed it to me.
“You look worried.”
“I’m fine,” I smiled and took a sip of the Coke.
“Eric, slow down!”
I slammed on the breaks as I saw what made Mia scream. In the road in front of us was a roadblock.
Two reflective traffic sawhorses blocked both lanes of the tunnel. Beyond the roadblock, the lights of the tunnel were dark. There was nothing but a void of blackness.
Standing in front of the roadblock was another man wearing a reflective vest and a hard hat, only this time his hard hat had a light on top which obscured his face.
We came to a jolting stop.
I turned to Mia
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “It’s a cave-in isn’t it?”
“God, I hope not.”
I rolled down the window, leaned out and yelled to the man in the hard hat.
“Hey! What’s going on?!”
The man was about 5 yards away. He took two steps towards us and then raised a hand to his mouth and yelled.
“Just doing some maintenance!”
“How long is it going to take?!” I yelled back.
The man made a hand gesture as if he didn’t hear me.
“How long is it going to take?!” I called again.
He made the same gesture. I unbuckled my seat belt and grabbed the door release.
“What are you doing?” Mia asked.
“I gotta know what’s going on.”
“Eric, just stay here, it might not be safe.”
“I’ll be just a second,” I said.
I pushed the door open and stepped down from the RV.
“Stay in your vehicle!” the man yelled.
He took a couple steps towards me with his hand out telling me to stop.
“What’s the hold up?!” I shouted.
The man was a bit closer now but I still couldn’t see his face through the shining light on his helmet.
“Please stay in your vehicle!” he shouted.
There was something off about him.
Then I heard it–
“EEEAAAUUUUUUGHHHHHHHH!!!”
A scream, or something, rolled from deep in the tunnel. The worker turned and looked into the darkness. Then he ran past the barricades and soon all we could see of him was the light on his helmet.
The light disappeared a moment later.
“What the hell was that?! Is someone hurt?” Mia asked.
“I have no idea,” I said.
“Should we do something?” Mia asked.
I just sat there and watched the pitch black tunnel in front of me. I had no idea what to tell her. I checked the sideview mirrors. There was still nobody behind us.
“Where are the other cars?” I asked.
“They must have gotten through before the roadblock... Or maybe they caused the roadblock?” Mia replied.
“I saw another worker a little ways back. We could try to go back and talk to him.”
“We’d be going straight into any oncoming cars.”
“There’s a maintenance walkway. We didn’t pass him that long ago. We can probably catch him on foot.”
“Maybe we should just wait for the guy to come back.”
She reached over and grabbed my arm. I squeezed her hand.
She was right.
I looked out at the tunnel ahead of us. I turned on the RV’s high beams but all I could see beyond the roadblock was more tunnel and more road.
I checked my phone. Unsurprisingly, there was no service still.
We waited, but the man never came back.
“It’s been twenty minutes,” Mia said, “How come there hasn’t been another car behind us?
I was having the same thought. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out. I looked back at the road behind us. It went back about 200 yards before curving out of sight.
There was no sign of that first worker I saw on the maintenance walk way. I looked at the roadblock ahead of us and clicked on the RV’s high beams. There was nothing beyond the roadblock but more tunnel. It didn’t look like it was under construction, just very dark.
“I think we should keep going,” I said.
“What about the roadblock?”
“We’ll move those sawhorses out of the way and just drive past,” I said as I opened my door.
Mia looked at me, then she cast her eyes to the dark tunnel ahead of us. I knew she was processing the same limited options that I was.
Driving backwards would be a huge risk in the instance of another car finally coming along.
Getting out and walking would take God knows how long, we could have driven 10 miles at this point.
Forward was our best option.
“Let’s do it,” Mia said.
We jumped out and quickly pulled the two sawhorses out of the right lane. I pulled the RV up past the barriers, then we jumped out again and put the sawhorses back where they were. We didn't need another car to come barreling through.
We were finally moving again, slowly. It was pitch black save for the high beams of the RV.
We crept forward at around 15 miles per hour. As the tunnel turned and twisted, my eyes started to play tricks on me. I kept seeing shapes at the furthest point of the tunnel.
I kept seeing something standing just at the end of the next bend but as we roll forward, there was nothing there.
“Where are the workers?” Mia asked.
“I don’t know.”
I was done rationalizing. This was all wrong. Traffic tunnels are never this long.
My mind started to wander to all the road trip urban legends I’d read about; The Killer in the Backseat, The Disappearing Gas Station, The Pale Man In The Corn Field.
Did we stumble into some strange outlier location? An in-between point on the endless roads that cross this country?
Then I saw it–
“Look! A person! Thank god!” Mia shouted.
As we rounded a curve in the tunnel, a group of maintenance workers entered our view.
The three of them stood on the left side of the road behind two more sawhorses topped with flashing lights.
Two of them faced towards us, the third was facing the other two.
The one with his back to us wore a light on his hard hat. Was this the same guy we saw earlier? How did he get this far away?
I approached slowly and rolled down the window.
“Hey! You left us waiting back there!” I yelled.
There was no response.
In fact, all three men were completely silent, and it was hard to tell in the flashing light of the sawhorses, but they looked to be standing COMPLETELY STILL.
“Hello?!” I yelled again.
I pushed open my door and stepped out onto the pavement.
“Eric wait--”
I held up a finger to Mia.
“Just a second.”
I slowly stepped towards the 3 men.
“Hello?”
No response… What the fuck?
The bright lights of the sawhorses obscured their faces.
I kept moving closer.
“Hey, what’s going on--”
Then I saw it.
Their faces... They were plastic.
In front of me stood three mannequins.
I backed away toward the RV, then I turned and walked hurriedly to the vehicle.
I was seriously freaked out but I didn’t want to alarm Mia. I climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.
“They’re mannequins.” I said.
“What?”
“They’re mannequins.”
”Why?... What?...”
“I don’t know…”
I looked back over at the three figures and my blood ran cold…
The Hard Hat Mannequin had somehow TURNED AROUND to face us. All three figures appeared to be watching us now.
Then we heard it--
A loud resonant banging on the side, and then the roof of the RV.
“What the hell was that?” Mia whispered.
We listened, holding our breath. Then--
A shuffling sound--
Something was moving ON or IN the RV.
“Stay here.” I said.
I got up.
“Eric, wait!”
I moved to the back of the RV.
It was dark. I went for a drawer in the kitchenette space and pulled out a flashlight.
I moved to the rear of the RV, the bedroom. My flashlight illuminated an empty room.
“Whoever is back here, I have a gun…”
A shitty bluff. But I didn’t see anything.
I shone the light out of the windows of each side of the RV. Nothing.
Then I heard it–
A shuffling sound, from right above me.
I looked up and screamed–
“Fuck!”
On the roof of the RV, staring through the skylight was a woman with vacuous black eyes and a dead smile.
Her stringy black hair dangled down towards me casting thing black shadows across her horrible pale face.
“Mia, drive! Fast!” I screamed.
Mia JUMPED over to the driver’s seat, shifted into gear and STOMPED on the gas. The RV was clunky but it could move when it needed to.
We lurched forward and I fell back.
I trained my flashlight up onto the skylight again and the woman was gone.
I scrambled to my feet and looked out of the side windows.
Did Mia shake her off? There was no sign of the woman. I moved to the passenger seat, breathing heavily and sweating.
“What happened?” She asked, keeping the RV at a steady 50 mph.
“There was a woman on the roof,” I said flatly.
I realize now that I was in a kind of shock.
“A woman?”
“Her eyes were black.”
Mia just looked at me, then back at the tunnel ahead of us.
“There’s something wrong with this tunnel.” I whispered.
Mia pointed at the road ahead, “Look.”
I looked out at the tunnel. There were more mannequins. A LOT more mannequins. They were positioned on both sides of the road.
They were all facing us and even though I never saw them move, when I looked in the side-view mirror, they were somehow STILL facing us, turning to watch us as we drove past. Watching without eyes.
“Just keep driving.” I said.
As we drove on, the mannequins crowded the sides of the road more and more. There were thousands of them. Eventually they were so close that some of their outstretched arms hit the side of the RV.
They were closing in on us. Squeezing our path forward. One stood in the middle of the road.
“I don’t think i can get around it.”
“Run it over. Don’t stop.”
The RV smashed into the mannequin. Its head shot forward and bounced against the windshield and the vehicle shuddered as it rolled over the body.
Soon there were two in the road. Then three.
I could see where this was going. Pretty soon there would be too many for the RV to ram through, but goddammit we were going to get through as many as we could.
“Speed up, Mia.”
CRASH!
The sound was surreal, smashing into mannequin after mannequin at nearly 60 miles per hour.
Hands, legs, heads and torsos flew.
The windshield cracked, the RV shuddered and screamed and eventually slowed down, despite the screaming engine.
I’m certain the axle was jammed up with lifeless, plastic body parts. Eventually we came to a stop.
“She won’t move,” Mia said.
She pressed on the gas but it was no use, the RV just rocked a little bit.
“Try reverse.”
She shifted and pressed on the gas, we got some decent movement before running into another jam.
“Fuck.”
“Should we get out and look?” Mia asked.
“I’ll go,” I said as I grabbed the flashlight and popped the passenger door. Mia unbuckled her seatbelt.
“We’ll go together.”
We stumbled out of the RV on the passenger side. It was like stepping into Hell.
Countless, lifeless faces stared out at us from the darkness. The only light came from the headlights of the RV and my flashlight.
We clumsily made our way along the side of the RV. The ground was littered with mannequin pieces.
I thought to myself, if we could get a couple yards cleared out behind the rear tires, we might be able to back out and get enough momentum to reverse all the way back out of here.
Instead, when we got to the back of the RV, my stomach flipped and my heart sank.
I was expecting to see a trail of flattened mannequins, instead the RV was now surrounded by thousands of perfectly intact mannequins standing at attention. As if their ranks had some how been replenished after our vehicular assault.
“This is impossible.”
She started to cry. I held her close.
“We’ll keep moving.” I said.
“It will never end. The tunnel makes no sense. It only curves one direction.”
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“This whole time the tunnel has only been curving to the right. it would sometimes straighten out or go left for a few yards but before too long we were curving to the right again. We’ve either been driving in circles or spiraling downwards.”
“So we’ll go back the way we came and hope we’re not going in circles.” I said.
We had been driving for hours at this point. Walking back out the way we came would take days. But now that I thought about it, Mia was right, we’d only been curving to the right.
This tunnel seemed to be very gradually taking us downwards into the earth.
Going forward would not get us any closer to escape.
“We’ll need food from the RV,” Mia said.
I nodded and we stumbled our way back to the front of the RV, the mannequins’ lifeless faces watching us the whole time.
I stepped up to the passenger door and nearly fell back when I looked through the window.
“What the fuck?” I breathed.
What I saw were two mannequins sitting in the driver’s and passenger’s seat.
How they got in there? I have no idea, but what really made my blood run cold was that they were dressed EXACTLY like MIA and I.
They wore identical sets of clothes. The one in the passenger seat had my same New Order T-shirt and black jeans. The one in the driver’s seat had Mia’s green striped sweater and denim shorts.
Their plastic faces stared out through the shattered windshield at the endless crowd of mannequins staring back at them.
Mia stepped up and saw the uncanny display.
“What the fuck?” Mia echoed.
I pulled myself up into the RV and slowly stepped around my mannequin doppelgänger. I avoided looking into its face but I swear i could feel it watching me as I stumbled around it.
Mia followed and we made our way into the back of our dark RV. Luckily we had just stocked our cooler full of deli meat and water not long after crossing the Colorado state line.
I handed Mia the flashlight and pulled open the cooler. I filled a backpack full of food and water.
I turned and saw them–
My mannequin double had somehow moved. It was standing in the aisle watching us.
Mia’s doppelgänger was still seated in the driver’s seat but had turned to peer back at us with its eyeless gaze.
Mia saw the look in my eyes and turned. She screamed when she saw them and backed into me. I put my arm around her and we stood there a moment, letting our skyrocketing heart rates return to Earth.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
I slid the backpack onto my shoulders.
Mia joined me at the door. I looked into her eyes. “Are you ready?” She nodded. I kissed her.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you,” she said.
The look on her face killed me. She was terrified. I’m sure the look on my face was similar.
I opened the door and we stepped out…
We again stumbled to the back of the RV. Once we were clear of the RV and all the crushed mannequin body parts, it became easier to find footing, though weaving through an endless crowd of lifeless people was a slow process.
It was pitch black. Without the flashlight we wouldn’t be able to see a foot in front of us.
As I walked, the beam of light created the illusion of movement in the crowd. At least I hoped it was an illusion.
The limbs of the mannequins seemed to stretch and turn, but the only sound was that of Mia and I shuffling our way through the crowded tunnel.
Things went on like this for what felt like hours. Mia and I were sweating and aching. I was about to suggest we stop and rest, but then I saw it and I froze…
Out in the crowd, beyond rows of blank faces I saw a pale face, black hair and a dead smile.
I saw two vacuous eyes staring right at me.
“Mia, do you see her?” I whispered.
“See who?”
I slowly raised my arm and pointed.
It was the woman, or whatever it was, that stared back at me through the skylight on the roof of the RV.
“Oh my god!” Mia squeaked.
I could see now that the Pale Faced Woman was tall. A few inches taller than the mannequins.
As I pointed, she stared back at me with that terrible grin.
“What do we do?” Mia whispered.
I raised the flashlight and pointed it right at the Pale Faced Woman. I thought maybe this would scare her off.
I was wrong.
The light only made her appear more unsettling as she stared back, unflinchingly.
“What do you want?!” I yelled.
She only stared back at me. She was as still as the mannequins.
“We have to keep going.” I whispered.
Mia didn’t respond. Her body was tense as she held onto me.
“We’ve come this far, we can’t turn back again,” I continued.
I pulled Mia’s hand and we continued on our way through the mannequins, keeping the distance between us and her as wide as possible.
As we moved past, she kept watching us. Though her movements were imperceptible to us, her eyes never left us. Like one of those portraits whose eyes appear to watch you no matter where you stand.
Finally, we got far enough that she was out of sight. But the thought of her being somewhere behind us only unsettled me further and I quickened our pace.
As the hours wore on, there was no sign of the Pale Faced Woman and the crowd of mannequins began to thin out. They still populated the tunnel from one end to the other, but there was more space between them, allowing Mia and I to walk more freely.
The mannequins on the maintenance walkway on the side of the tunnel seemed to thin out as well and I decided it would give us a better vantage if we were walking up there.
I helped Mia climb up the railing that bordered the walkway, then I climbed up behind her. The walkway was elevated 3 or 4 feet above the roadway. We could easily see over the heads of the mannequins in both directions.
There was, of course, no end to the tunnel in sight.
We kept walking.
The mannequins continued to thin out, but they were different now.
There were mannequins dressed as maintenance workers again, but also mannequins dressed as families and businessmen. There was even a group of mannequin nuns standing in a single file line, heads bowed in prayer.
Needless to say, we passed none of this on the way in to the tunnel. I was feeling very hopeless that we were going to be able to find our way out.
I was far beyond speculating how this was at all possible. It’s NOT possible. And even if it were, there is no good reason for someone to do this to us.
The only explanation was the supernatural. Then I saw Her. Rather, I saw THEM.
Arranged in the middle of the tunnel was a circle of mannequins with long black hair and tattered cloth.
They looked exactly like the Pale Faced Woman, minus any facial features. I kept a close watch on them as we passed to make sure they didn’t start following us.
“A door!” Mia shouted.
Mia pointed a few paces ahead of her. There was a door leading into the wall of the tunnel.
We ran towards it. Mia grabbed the handle, turned it and pulled. It was heavy and Mia had to brace her foot on the wall to get it moving.
The metal door groaned as if it hadn’t been opened in years.
Finally, it was open enough to see past.
It was a hallway. It went out about 5 yards then turned right at a 90 degree angle.
The strangest part was the design of the hallway.
It wasn’t cement or pavement like the tunnel.
The walls were wood paneled and the floor was covered in a thick carpet, like a house from the 1970s.
“I say we see where this takes us.” Mia said.
There was no reason to disagree, but I wasn’t going to get us trapped in there.
I opened up my backpack and took out a water bottle. I opened it and handed it to Mia. She drank half, then I drank the other half.
I slowly closed the door, shoving the empty water bottle in the crack to keep it from closing all the way.
I turned to Mia-- “Okay, let’s go.”
We slowly made our way down the quiet hallway. We got down to where the hallway cornered to the right and that’s when we heard it–
KA-CHUNK!!!--
I whipped around. The door had closed behind us. I ran back to it and tried to push it open, but it was no use. There was no way it closed on its own.
Someone had to have removed the water bottle. Our path had been chosen for us.
There was no turning back.
We continued down the hallway. We turned right. The hallway continued, then turned right again. That should have led us right back to the tunnel. But it didn’t. This part of the hallway went on far longer than was possible without running into the tunnel. Then it turned right again.
It went on like this. Sometimes a section of the hallway was 20 feet long, sometimes it was 20 yards long, sometimes it was 3 feet long. But it always turned to the right.
At first it was a relief to be somewhere other than the cold, dark tunnel. But the hallway very quickly became claustrophobic and before too long, I heard someone walking behind us.
We had stopped to take a break and I heard a third pair of footsteps on the carpet coming from behind us. I backtracked to the last corner.
I was terrified as I slowly peeked around the corner, tense and waiting to see the vacuous eyes and inky black hair of the Pale Faced Woman... but there was nothing there. I wasn’t about to backtrack any further.
“There was no one there.” I whispered.
Mia slumped against the wall and slid down to the carpet.
“I think I need to rest.” She said.
I put my backpack down on the ground for Mia to use as a pillow. She laid her head down and was passed out in seconds.
I had no idea how long we had been walking at this point. I stood leaning against the wall. My body was telling me to rest but I couldn’t risk falling asleep. I had to keep watch. I knew SHE was following us.
I took in the details of the hallway for the first time. The carpet was a dull brown and the walls a cheap wood paneling. The hanging lighting fixtures were shaded by stained glass, something you might see in an old diner.
Who built this place? Did someone pick out the carpet and the lighting fixtures? Did a team of workers blast these tunnels into the Earth? Or has this place always existed? Was this Purgatory?
I began to feel dizzy. I was panicking. My heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest. I slumped to the floor and tried to slow my breathing.
I closed my eyes... –
I SHOT up in a panic. I had fallen asleep while I was meant to be keeping watch.
I snapped to my feet and looked around.
Mia was still asleep on my backpack.
Then I noticed that the hallway had changed. A few paces away there was now a plain wooden door in the wall.
I slowly approached it. I put my ear to the door and I could hear what sounded like TV static and the low murmur of voices.
I discreetly grabbed the door handle and turned it slowly. I felt the latch bolt clear and I carefully cracked the door just enough to peek inside.
It was dark, so it took a second for me to register what I was seeing. I saw a small board room. A long table in the center was surrounded by seated men in suits.
At the end of the table stood another man next to an old CRT TV that was playing static. This was the only source of light in the room and all the men around the table were turned towards the tv.
Suddenly the screen flickered from static to a solid dark background. And some warped new age style muzak began playing.
Then the words appeared on the screen that terrified me like nothing else before. In plain text the words read–
“YOU WILL LOSE HER.”
I froze as I knew these words were meant for me I watched with terror as the men seated around the table slowly turned toward me in unison.
They were mannequins.
The TV screen then clicked off and they continued staring at me as I could barely make out their forms through the near pitch darkness.
I quickly pulled the door shut. And whipped around to look at Mia, I had a horrible feeling of dread that when I turned around she would be gone, like the message on the TV promised–
“Eric? What are you doing?” Mia was leaning up and staring at me.
Thank God. There was Mia, right where I left her.
I pointed at the door and said, “This door appeared and I--”
“What door?” she interrupted.
I turned and sure enough, the door was now gone.
I explained what happened to her, but I left out the message that appeared on the screen.
-- YOU WILL LOSE HER –
Those words still burned in my brain. I tried to force them out.
We drank water, ate granola and then got moving again.
Hallways. Endless hallways.
After a couple hours of walking we started to hear music. There were small speakers in the corners of the ceiling.
I recognized it as the same new-age muzak that played on the TV in the board room. The melody drilled into our minds. Combined with the dull aesthetics of the quiet hallways and the endless right turns, the music had a hypnotizing effect.
The lengths of the halls became more uniform. That is to say, the straight section of hallway was about 7 paces, then a right turn, then 7 paces and a right turn.
“I think we’re walking in circles... or a square,” Mia said.
I looked at her and took out a bottle of water. I peeled off the plastic label and dropped it on the floor.
Then we kept walking.
7 paces, right turn. 7 paces, right turn. 7 paces, right turn. And there it was... Mia was right.
The label from my water bottle lay in the middle of the hallway. Somehow we had been led into a loop. I lost it.
“FUUUCK!”
I kicked the wall repeatedly and screamed. Mia just leaned her back against the wall.
This was our dynamic. If one of us lost it, the other became zen and thought of a solution. More often than not, I was the one to lose it.
I finally stopped freaking out
“There has to be a way out. A door,” Mia said.
“We would have seen it,” I replied.
“A hidden door,” she said.
She turned around and ran her hands along the cracks of the wood paneling.
“Most likely on the outer wall,” she said.
She beat her fist on the wall, listening for a change in the sound. I exhaled heavily, sweating and tired, and I started searching the wall as well.
We checked the whole first wall, nothing. We checked the second wall, nothing. The third, nothing.
The final wall... Nothing. I gave up and slumped on the floor. Mia immediately went over to the other side of the hall and started checking the inner wall.
“What are you doing? I thought you said it would be on the outer wall?” I asked.
Then we heard it.
Mia beat the wall and instead of the dead thud, we heard a resonate BOOM –
A door…
I shot up and started tapping the wall with Mia until we found where the door ended. It was the width of about 4 wooden panels. I lined myself up in the center, lowered my shoulder and pushed–
IT MOVED! It barely moved but it was enough to confirm this actually was a door! I re-centered and tried again, lowering my center of gravity, I pushed as hard as I could. The door pushed inward about 3 inches, then Mia joined in. We slowly moved the door, 5 inches, then 10, then 15, then 20.
Then Mia slipped inside.
I had a moment of panic as she disappeared into the darkness and those haunting words came back into my mind, “YOU WILL LOSE HER.”
I darted past the doorway, falling through the threshold and hitting the concrete floor.
I looked up and there was Mia, thank God. I promised myself I’d never let her out of my sight again.
“The exit...” Mia said.
She looked and sounded as if she were a thousand miles away. I got to my feet and followed her gaze. What I saw nearly brought me to tears.
We were back in the tunnel, but there was light. About a mile down was the mouth of the tunnel, and daylight pouring in. Beautiful daylight. I grabbed Mia tight and kissed her.
“Thank God...” she cried.
We started moving. Nothing was going to slow us down this time. We sped up into a RUN down the maintenance walkway towards that beautiful sunlight.
As we approached, something else came into view. Parked in the middle of the roadway was a large vehicle…
It couldn’t be…
It was!
Our RV sat in the road waiting for us. We ran all the way to it, pulled open the passenger side door and climbed in. There were no mannequins to be seen.
I fell into the driver’s seat and Mia handed me the keys. I turned over the engine, the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I shifted into gear and floored it towards the sunlight.
As we got closer, I could see the green of trees and the blue of the sky. We were maybe one hundred yards away.
I turned to Mia, tears in my eyes…
And what I saw turned my blood to ice.
Just beyond Mia’s window, that horrifying pale face grinned at me.
The Pale Faced Woman was somehow floating outside of the RV.
Before I could say anything, her hand smashed through the window and gripped Mia by the throat, then in one horrible motion the thing PULLED MIA SCREAMING THROUGH THE WINDOW AND…
Disappeared…
I SLAMMED on the breaks just as the RV passed through the exit of the tunnel and sunlight flooded the cab of the RV. I threw it in park and shot out of the door screaming.
“Mia!? Mia??!!”
I screamed over and over. I rounded the front of the RV and looked back at the tunnel –
-- and what I saw shattered my mind…
The tunnel was gone.
There was only open road.
I had lost her.

Hello!
My cat pulled a keycap out of my keyboard and broke the small scissor lift style piece under the cap.
Is there any compatible keyboard I can salvage from broken laptop? Are those pieces standard?
Thanks a lot for your advice!

I am so sorry for how long this is, but there's quite a bit to cover.
I am a 28F mechanic who works for a rather large dealership in my city. I love my job, I love working on cars, and I love the men that I work with. It's like having an army of brothers that would do anything for me, and I have genuinely never had such a wonderful and supportive workplace environment.
Until "Collin" (26M) started about 6 weeks ago.
Before I start with him, I want to tell you about my "superpower." When I was very, very young, my mother noticed that I had this uncanny ability to detect "bad" people. Even as a toddler, there were certain people I didn't want near me or holding me for seemingly no reason. If they tried, I would scream until they left me alone. If said people tried to pick me up anyway, she'd snatch me away from them and tell them that I said no and to leave me alone. When they'd ask why or push that I "didn't know what [I] wanted," she'd shut them down and say that me not wanting that was reason enough. She's never, ever questioned my "ability" and instead leaned into it and helped me nurture it (especially after certain charges came out about a previous church member that I was uncomfortable around).
Back to Collin. Obviously, that's not his real name, but what is real about him is how... creepy he is. It was evident to me the moment I first met him, but I didn't want to come off as judgemental. My "superpower" has never been wrong, but I have a problem setting boundaries when I'm on the clock because I never want to be the "problem child" for a company. As the only female mechanic, I'm even more aware of that, so I tend to walk on eggshells out of fear of being treated differently.
With Collin, it's a little hard to explain, but to start, he's got personal space issues. As in, I have an issue with how little he respects my personal space. An example: I keep snacks in one of my toolbox drawers for when I and my teammates are too busy to stop and eat a proper lunch. A few days ago, I was bent over and fishing around for a protein bar when I felt him walk up behind me. Of all the angles he could've approached me from, he picked directly behind me and got so close that I felt him brush up against my butt. I immediately shot up and told him to back the fuck up. He tried to play it off as an accident, but I told him, quite loudly, that it's not an accident to sneak up on someone like that and touch them. When he saw a few of my coworkers looking over at us, he quietly made a comment about me overreacting, and walked away.
A few days before that, as I was working on a car, he came up to my toolbox and just took an impact gun. It wasn't mine; I was borrowing someone else's because mine was being repaired. So I stopped him and told him to put it back. He asked me why. This was weird to me because, as far as he knew, it was mine and if I said no, he should've just left it at that. So, I said, "Because it's not yours and I said no. Please put it back." "It's not yours either," is what he said. He tried to walk away with it. At this point, I physically stepped in front of him and said "All the more reason for you not to take it. It isn't mine to lend out. Please put it back." He then asked me if he had a problem sharing. I asked him if he had a problem with respecting boundaries.
Y'all... the look Collin gave me sent chills down my spine. At that moment, he glared at me like my ex did right before he put my head through a wall, and I was actually scared. I swallowed that fear and stood my ground, even though I just wanted to curl up and disappear. He must not be used to people standing up to him because he just sighed in annoyance and slammed the impact down on my bench, then walked away. He, thankfully, avoided me for the rest of the day.
Since those two situations have happened, I've asked for my friend/coworker, "Evan," to make a new group chat for that handful of us that hangout after work because I wasn't comfortable with Collin having access to my phone number. Evan had added him, without asking the rest of us, when they'd gone to a theme park together a few weeks prior. I'd opted out because I didn't want to hang out with Collin, but they used the group chat to communicate plans and such. Evan agreed to make a new group chat so that I feel safer.
Now, finally , the reason I am writing this post is because of what happened yesterday. I may have overreacted? My fiancé thinks I acted well within reason, but sometimes my anxiety makes me believe that I go overboard, even if I'm being perfectly rational. I'm not sure if that's the case here or not.
I caught Collin fishing around in my toolbox. Except, this time, it was the drawer that I keep my purse in. It's not a secret that it's there; every morning when I walk in, my coworkers see me put it in that specific drawer. I used to keep it with the snacks, but the men I work with are a little more old fashioned and won't even go near my purse, so they'd get hesitant when they saw it near the snacks. I moved drawers so they could freely grab food when I was too preoccupied to personally hand them something in order to avoid my purse. It was no bother to do so, but boy did it bother me when I saw Collin huddling over that drawer with my purse in it.
I shouted with my whole chest, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He immediately stood up and started mumbling about needing a certain tool, to which I bombarded him with questions like, "And you were just going to take it? That's not even where any of them are! Why were you going through my purse, you creep?" He couldn't keep up to answer any of my questions, but as far as I was concerned, he wouldn't have been able to come up with a good enough excuse because it's quite well known that that's the place where I keep my personal belongings. It got to the point where I was just yelling at him, and other coworkers had to come pull me away from Collin because I was getting increasingly aggressive. I was so mad, in fact, that I didn't even realize that he was getting aggressive too, and the reason why Evan and "Peter" had to pull me away is because Collin was getting in my face and calling me names. When I try to think about it now, I don't remember hearing that. I was so angry, that all I could really hear was the blood pumping in my body.
I had to sign a write up this morning. Absolutely fair, seeing as how I lost my shit and all professionalism in the workplace. I'm annoyed because this is my first write up, but management needs something to prove they "punished" me in some way for my behavior. What I'm not okay with is Collin telling people that I flew off the handle for no reason. Then this guy has the nerve to approach me today and tell me he forgave me for the way I treated him yesterday and that he hopes we can be friends in the future. I might be the asshole because I told him, calmly, that "I never want to be friends with someone who is so apathetic and disrespectful when it comes to boundaries and personal space" and that I'd appreciate it if he left me alone in the future. Now he's moping and saying I didn't even give him a chance before being a bitch to him.
Am I the asshole? Did I overreact?

Fellow divers!
Today I played an enjoyable mission with a good team of randos. It was overall very fun. I got deployed on a huge mountain top from where I could easily see an estimated 500 meters in all directions. I stayed there for a good five minutes, pinging targets for the ground team below and throwing down support weapons.
Until I decided to join the fight more actively and fired one salvo with my Sickle and the 100m scope. 3 seconds later I get rag dolled off my mountain top and fly through the air because some rocket bot 200 meters away managed to (1) see that I was a minuscule spot on the top of the mountain and (2) it somehow managed to deduct from my Sickle beams where I was positioned (prone!) precisely and (3) took the missile shot of it’s existence to hit me.
I would appreciate a bit more “realism” here to make it worthwhile reaching and staying put in tactical positions that should make it hard for the enemy to (1) locate your position and especially (2) snipe you from impossible angles. Through the mountain rock?!
Being able to actually make good tactical use of the terrain would open up an additional play style; more stealth/Ninja hit&run without the enemy being able to determine where it came from.
Anyway I enjoyed this particular game, and the HD2 game overall!
FOR DEMOCRACY iO

This isn't a religious post. We all know Penacony is inspired by American culture, and it's as though the producers of the game's music looked at American music and thought, "What are some upbeat songs that are really popular in America" and stumbled upon the hundreds of Christian rock songs.
Oh evidence? Here's 3 random Christian rock songs I pulled out my ass (timestamped to skip the intro):

• Praise
• Happy day
• I thank God

Here's the song in question if you want to reference Robin's song with the 3 above. Again, this isn't a religious post and there are many American rock songs that may also sound similar, but this particular genre/style of music is very popular among American Christians which do make up a large portion of the population and thematically matches the "American inspired" world of Penacony. If you tweak the lyrics a bit it can easily end up as a worship song you sing at church Sunday morning.
(Maybe that's why her brother is Sunday because that's the day she get's all her inspiration from)

I passed! AT/AT/AT. Took the test this past Saturday May 18, at a test center. Thank you to everyone on this sub, reading through your tips and experiences made all the difference.
Context: Start to finish, I completed this journey in about 4 weeks. I was laid off in March of this year and am job hunting. So, having the time, I opted to do it on a very aggressive timeline, to knock it out and beef up my resume. Not having it on the resume felt like a blocker for the positions I’ve been applying to, time will tell if it helps. I do wish I had thought to do it while still employed, so I could have done it on their dime. (I could not have pulled this off this quickly while working full time.)
Budget (USD) $723

• $159 - PMI membership
• $79 - PMI Study Hall Plus
• $425 - PMI Exam
• $20 - Andrew R's Udemy course
• $25 - AR Prep Book, Ebay
• $15 - Third3Rock Study Guide

Timeline

• April 19: Purchased AR’s course
• May 1: Once I got course completion certificate, I submitted PMP application. No audit.
• May 3: Bought Study Hall Plus
• May 11: Finally confirmed my PMP application approval. It had been approved a few days prior, but the notification was not sent. So I recommend checking and not waiting for an email. Paid and scheduled exam, to take on site. Too many horror stories of online, test center is 15 min away.
• May 18: Took and passed exam!

Prep and study plan:

• AR Udemy course for the 35 PDU. Watched on 1.5-1.75x speed, took notes. Got 72% on the in-session mock exam.
• AR PMP Exam Prep Simplified book. Read the whole thing. Averaged about 70-75% on the section quizzes. Saved full mock exam till later.
• PMI Study Hall Plus: Took all 5 full exams (only 1 per day, I’m not a monster. Took the last one 3 days before exam). Scores 69/73/75/63/62. I reviewed all questions after, and made sure I understood the wrong ones. The expert questions killed my last two scores. Also took a bunch of the SH mini quizzes. First pass, scored 60-70’s.
• I built a post-it Mural (mural.io) of the 49 processes/ITTOs. I was having hard time getting these to stick, and taking the time to do this helped me visualize it and keep it straight in my head. It’s not perfect, more of a brain dump in virtual post-its, but I’m happy to share a read-only link if anyone is interested.
• Watched David McLachlan’s 150 PMBOK 7 Q&A on YouTube. Helpful to learn his approach to highlighting key points and eliminating.
• When away from studying (i.e., driving, on walks, etc) — instead of my usual podcasts, I listed to a bunch of Scott Payne’s podcast “PMP Exam Prep Success Secrets”. More conversational, a much different style than DM or AR. I found it helpful. I don't know if it's the best podcast resource out there, but by then I was fried, so I grabbed first one I could find. I was done researching :)
• Third3rock PMP Study Notes/Cheat Sheet. So many of you recommended this! I grabbed it about 5 days before exam, read through multiple times through the week. Fantastic resource! (Thank you u/third3rock!)

Final countdown to test: Two days before exam:

• Took AR’s full exam in from the Prep Simplified book (85%)
• Reset SH mini exams and started redoing them, improved scores to 80-90’s, and one 100
• Re-read Third3Rock docs

Day before exam

• Rewatched AR’s mindset videos, reread minset section of prep book
• Re-read mindset section of Third3Rock
• Did more mini SF exams to stay in practice
• Reviewed Mural content

Morning of exam:

• Reread Third3Rock mindset section, and AR's mindset pages on drive in

Finally the test itself :

• Scheduled for 8am at testing center. My husband dropped me off at 8am to save me the stress of finding parking (test center at local university.)
• Locked up my stuff, turned off phone and took off apple watch. Got signed in and started at 8:30. Had to show ID and show empty pockets at beginning and at every break.
• I could not bring my water into test room, but could leave it on counter near proctors.
• There were only 5 drag and drop. Only one question required calculation for CPI. No PERT or Comm Channels. No MBTI or DiSC. Maybe 5 ITTO at best. Everything else followed closely to Study Hall approach, situational and mindset. Heavy on agile and hybrid.
• I followed the 230/155/80 timing, which was super helpful to time things out. I paced myself, took breaks at 154 min and 83 min, and finished with 4 minutes to spare. I didn’t mark any for review, and at my pace it was just as well, I would not have had time to review.
• I used the highlight and strikethrough on every question. Do the tutorial in beginning to get comfortable with the tool.
• Be careful to understand the rules at the test center. I almost got in trouble at the first break! I asked permission to go to my locker for snacks after 1st break, which were right off to the side and in view of proctors. I stayed at locker to eat some granola and grapes, and was reprimanded, since I was supposed to bring the snacks out to the proctor’s desk area, which I now realize was in view of the cameras. Whoops! I apologized and said I misunderstood the rules. I’m glad they did not suspect me of trying to use my phone, etc. I was a little nervous waiting for final results due to this.
• Make sure to return from break a few minutes early, because proctor needs to sign you back in to your station. I had to wait until they got to me.
• Got my provisional pass on way out the door, and my official pass confirmation the next evening.

Most helpful tips:

• Read the last sentence in the scenario question FIRST. So you know what to pay attention to when reading the scenario.
• Strike through the obviously wrong answers first, to stay focused.
• Mindset, mindset, mindset. When in doubt, mindset.

Hope that helps! Good luck!

To start off with, im not a noob of these style of games. I played the demo and was unimpressed and figured I would come back when it was a better product. Ive beat all the souls games, souls like games, team ninja games, etc.. so I promise, I dont need my questions broke down super simplistic lol. I finished ROTR twice and came over to Wo Long. I typically stick with the games to make the most OP build I can for myself, which is what Im trying to accomplish here.
Im pretty sure I am blitzing through the game a little too fast and am fairly underleveled and surviving based solely on build and a little bit of skill lol. I basically blitzed through the campaign and got the platinum trophy, then the 3 DLCs, and have been moving onto the newest difficulty as soon as it unlocks to improve builds. Currently, I am level 181 and I unlocked I believe Dragon King difficulty with 8* rarity gear and then beat the first mission to make sure I could do so. No issues there. I figure I will step into the TMJ once I get max rarity gear drops.
Question 1 is what is the highest rarity level you can get on gear? I have seen conflicting information on this being that 8* was the max and also that 9* gear was available. Also, if there is a higher level than 8*, whats the best method to obtain it?
Question 2, what is the highest level you can upgrade gear and weapons? I have picked up a few +11 items already. I tried googling this and seen answers of +20 but no good information on how to get from +11 to +20 which seems like a stretch. So if it is much higher, how do you continue to progress efficiently?
Question 3, have I been following an appropriate progression path? I mainly ask because the mission I just completed was 401 and i was 181 and that seems kind of crazy. I realize that i skipped a bunch of missions, and thus potential Qi leveling, by jumping to next difficulty immediately but I have not been dying regularly so Im not sure if this is normal for most people. If I am following the appropriate path, where should I go from here? My original plan was to farm to max rarity level in most slots with a solid build, then start TMJ to max out. Im just not sure if thats correct at this point lol.
Hopefully some of you fellow grindy veterans can point me in the right direction so i dont waste too much time regrinding the wrong shit for the wrong loot! Thanks to the community in advance.

The night was bone-chillingly cold. The slightest whisper of a breeze nipped at my exposed ears and drafted unpleasantly within my overly large winter coat. The black, barren trees stood unmoving like sentinels bearing ominously down upon either side of the sleet-slick street, which was lit only by dim street lamps that, other than creating a dull yellow reflection on the otherwise unlit pavement, seemed to do nothing against the oppressing dark of this fateful December night.
I had passed through a wrought iron gate twenty minutes before, the gate that separated a cozy subdivision from this eerie, undeveloped stretch of road that seemed to be dropped in the middle of the forest. I could think only of my warm, lively hearth and a nice, hot cup of tea between my palms, which now, instead of being pressed against warm porcelain, were being stabbed by my untrimmed fingernails as I tightened my fist onto the leash and plunged the other still deeper into my coat.
This night was the culmination of weeks of investigation on a missing person’s case turned sour. A man named Arthur Smith had reported his four daughters missing, then hung himself three days later when we couldn’t find anything. Oddly, Arthur’s body went missing from the morgue shortly after. The only trace left was an incredible amount of flies, and we were displeased to see that every drawer was leaking a mixture of blood and embalming fluid because the refrigerant pipes burst. When we opened them up, the neck of every corpse had been slit.
Eventually, through good detective work, we were able to connect some dots, and that led us to where we were now: We were now on a manhunt for a suspect that was last seen at a gas station about a mile up the road, not two hours earlier. We checked a network of cameras to see that he had headed for the woods, grabbed the hounds, and here we were.
My colleagues and I were spread around in different parts of the forest with the police force’s seven bloodhounds. I got stuck with Old Ben, the force’s droopiest and most seasoned canine. He was partially blind and notorious for not obeying commands. He didn’t even respond to a dog whistle, which was why some of my colleagues thought his hearing was shot. I doubted this theory, though, because sure enough, when somebody whispered the word “biscuit,” Old Benny perked up and started wagging his tail.
Another ten minutes found Old Benny and I at the end of the once seemingly endless street, with the streetlamps and pavement stopping abruptly at the edge of the woods, which had not entirely swallowed up a bulldozer. Old Ben stopped and sniffed the air for a moment, then plunged down a path in the woods to our right. It was a dirt path, not two feet wide, overgrown and partially washed out, making it an unpleasant and muddy journey from here on out.
…
My flashlight was now the only source of light illuminating our way. Its beam slid over roots and rocks that jutted out of the path at odd angles and briefly swept over the nearest trees, bringing them out of the shadow for a moment. I felt claustrophobic as they bore down upon me and upon the path. The only sound was my deep breathing, my sloppy footsteps, and Benny’s blundering in the mud about ten feet in front of me.
The path turned in such a way that I could see faint moonlight up ahead, but a cloud soon covered the moon and removed the slight comfort its light had provided. I continued following the curve of the path, and pointed my flashlight up ahead. Suddenly, everything was pitch black, as my flashlight had just gone out without a flicker. I was especially annoyed because firstly, I had just replaced the batteries earlier that week, and secondly, I caught a glimpse of the dark outline of what seemed to be a small cottage up ahead, which was now invisible in the darkness.
To my surprise, Benny stopped as soon as the light went out, which made it easy for me to replace the batteries with the ones that I always carried around in my service belt. To my dismay, Benny did not continue walking when the light flickered back on, even when I started tugging on his leash. He simply sat in the mud and peered at the cottage in the distance, which I knew for a fact he couldn’t see. The cottage was incredibly run down, but I couldn’t see much more, as it was just at the edge of my flashlight beam.
I began feeling uneasy when Benny started whimpering and backing away, tail between his legs. Our dogs were trained to bark when they found something, not stand still, and certainly not whine and back away. Old Ben had never been a skittish animal; I had never seen him act like this before. I peered back at the cottage, suspecting something more sinister than I was originally prepared for.
I tied Benny loosely around a nearby tree, so he could pull away if need be, pulled out my handgun, and continued on. Not fifteen seconds later, I was hit with the smell of blood and wet dog, and heard whimpering to my left. I told Benny to stay, and turned to find him where I left him, about twenty yards behind me, looking at me like I was insane. I bent down and examined the source of the noise, only to find one of our bloodhounds laying just off the path and covered in a mixture of mud and its own blood. It was missing its hind legs and was shivering badly. I cursed and dispatched it with a quick slit with my utility knife, then unclipped its collar and stuffed it into my pocket before turning away. I did not want to alert the suspect of my position. I grew worried about the location of my colleagues, as our dogs were trained not to run off. I also wondered what kind of predator would have taken only the hind legs of an animal. I tried not to think about it as I continued on.
As the cottage grew nearer, I was able to make out a few broken windows reflecting my light back at me. Through these I was able to see that the inside of the cottage was pitch black, the darkest black I had ever seen. I walked closer still, and I couldn’t stop looking into the darkness of the cottage. The darkness was so potent it seemed to be spilling over the window sill into the crisp night air. I felt consumed. My heart began pounding within my chest, and I felt colder than ever as I stepped toward the gravel path that led around to the left of the cottage. The sudden change in surface and the sound of my feet crunching upon the gravel seemed to break my trance, and I shuddered.
I didn’t know why I had felt so trapped, and I didn’t like it. Something was definitely wrong with this situation, and my feelings of dread intensified as I followed the gravel path around to the front of the cottage.
A dripping noise interrupted my thoughts and temporarily washed the dread from my mind. I paused. I determined it was coming from the direction I was headed, but I couldn’t see the front door yet as the porch was draped with ivy. I was suddenly hit with the putrid smell I knew all too well: the smell of death. It hit my nostrils like a truck and returned my feelings of dread all at once. I shined my beam to the front steps.
There was a dark, red liquid trickling gently down the steps, pooling under the porch: blood. I looked up onto the front porch, now visible, and saw the torso of a man hanging from his neck about three feet away from the front door. His legs were nowhere to be seen, though there was a blood trail leading into the house, and his glistening entrails swayed sickeningly with the light breeze. Blood was pooling below him, trickling down the steps, and down through the cracks in the porch. It had begun coagulating, and dark swirling orbs rotated in the puddle each time a drop splashed down. I looked up again at the carcass and recognized the man as our suspect. There was frost beginning to form at the edges of his mouth and over his glassy eyes, but his exposed entrails were still steaming. Furthermore, the blood dripping from his wound was still deep red in color. The back of my neck prickled and I knew this man had not been hanging for very long. No, not very long at all.
I raised my pistol and nudged the front door open. I was again hit with the smell of death, though now much stronger, so strong I could scarcely draw breath. The inside of the cottage was unbelievably dank, and the darkness seemed to eat the quivering beam of light I pointed out in front of me, so I couldn’t see ten feet forward.
I heard a sharp crack and I bolted my gaze to my feet. I had just stepped on a human rib. Suddenly the cottage came alive with creaking and shuffling. I heard flies buzzing all around me. I heard a raspy rushing noise to my right. I shined my flashlight to where I thought the noise was coming from, but all I saw was a bloodstained floor and darkness out in front of me. I took a step toward the noise, and the beam of light revealed the glistening mangled corpse of a man, missing most of his skin, hunched in the corner of the cottage. His whole torso was heaving, and I saw the rushing noise was coming from the base of his throat, where a large gash was opening and closing with every breath, spraying flecks of fluid. Maggots wriggled out of his wound, and black purge fluid trickled from his soupy eye sockets, his missing nose, and his gaping mouth. He was missing most of his teeth, and one of his cheeks was rotted through.
I was frozen in place with fear, until, to my horror, the man’s mangled arm rose and reached out to me. At this I aimed and put a bullet through his partially exposed skull, splattering a putrid mist on the wall behind him. Instead of slumping over, as I prayed he would, the man slowly levitated into an upright position as though controlled by a puppeteer. Skin began regrowing around his legs, his torso, and eventually his skull, which sprouted two bloody horns out of his forehead. This being had the likeness of Arthur Smith, though I sensed it was no longer him. I placed two rounds into his torso, and the being staggered, but the bullet wounds simply closed with sickening squelching sounds. I backed away slowly, and he simply stood in the corner and leered at me with burning black eyes and a disconcerting grin.
I continued to back away slowly, placing one more round between his eyes. His head jerked back, but still it healed and he seemed unbothered. I bolted around and headed for the door. I jerked the handle but it wouldn't budge. I tried kicking it down, which was something I was very practiced at, but still, the rotten oak planks held fast against my will. I turned around, back against the door, firearm at the ready, and stared into the blackness. Everything was quiet once again. Despite the temperature, cold sweat beaded upon my brow and dribbled down my neck.
Suddenly I felt a rumbling that seemed to come from the very depths of the Earth. A splitting and splintering sound came from what I presumed was the center of the cottage, and I was soon showered with bits of wood and stone that nicked my exposed skin and drew droplets of blood. I noticed my back was no longer pressed against the back of the door, though I was not moving. The floor seemed to be carrying me slowly in the direction of the noise. I was frozen in place, and found that I could not change my trajectory.
My flashlight beam found the edge of a large hole in the floor. I saw dark, root-like tendrils sprout from the hole and rush across the floor with the sound of scraping and splintering. They then returned to the hole, and they had within their grasp six bare human bodies, which I horrifically realized were those of my now former colleagues. I watched in horror as their pale naked bodies were folded, torn, ripped, and broken in the churning earth. The sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone was deafening and filled the darkness of the cottage. The mass of mangled flesh formed into one chunky, glistening mound in the center of the hole. It began pulsing and rising, and horrible screams rang in my ears. I watched in horror as the mass formed a humanoid figure that rose up ten feet out of the hole and bent over against the ceiling. It was facing away from me, but its raspy voice seemed to mix seamlessly with the screams directly in my ears.
“The churning of earth, the tearing of flesh, the cracking of bone”
At this it let out a booming laugh that reverberated in my skull and shook the foundation of the building. The cottage once again came alive, but now more than ever before. Shutters were opening and closing, floorboards were rattling, flies swarmed in a huge mass around and around the room, blocking the beam of my flashlight and obscuring my view of the figure. I felt my legs quiver along with the rest of the cottage. I looked down at a red book with its pages fluttering in the still air. I dove for it and slammed it shut, and the cottage grew still. I paused for a moment, but the giant figure began turning towards me. I bolted around to see that the door was now open, but the hung corpse was clinging to the top of the door frame, now very much alive. Its entrails were still swinging freely from its short leap, and the rope lay severed and frayed upon the ground.
I paced towards the door, dumping the rest of my magazine into the corpse, which to my relief fell to the ground with a squelch. I hopped over the body and sprinted out the front door, away from the cottage, down the dirt path. I could still hear the screams of the damned faintly in the distance, and the earth began rumbling once again underneath my feet. I continued running back along the path, trying not to think about what I had witnessed. I paused for a moment to catch my breath, and shivered in the now relentless sleet.
The pounding of the earth became the distant rumble of thunder in the distance. By the time I had gotten back to the paved road, I was soaked to the bone in cold sweat and freezing rain, and I was covered up to my thighs in mud from the path. My coat was snagged and torn in places from the splinters of wood and from branches along the path.
When I finally got back to my car, I saw a leash leading underneath it, and found Old Ben, crouched below, tail between his legs. I scooped him up and plopped him in the passenger seat, entirely disregarding the former cleanliness of my car, as it was now covered in mud and dog hair. I cranked up the heat and sped off towards the station to report what I had witnessed.
…
We never did find that cottage again. Other guys went back to where I was and failed to find the path, but they did find the dismembered bodies of my colleagues hidden under the bulldozer at the end of the street. I was charged with the deaths of my colleagues and was thrown into a mental institute, but I don’t mind it much. There are people here that are far more insane than I am. The worst part is my occasional perception of a distant rumbling, and during thunderstorms I’m a whimpering mess.
I have been disciplined three times for writing symbols on the walls that I can’t get out of my head. I draw them in my blood so they stand out more and resemble what I see. I have found that once they are on the wall, they stay out of my head. Unfortunately, I haven’t finished writing them all out yet. The first time I started I got really close to finishing, but then I found myself strapped to a hospital bed.
The worst part of my new existence is the nightmares. I am plagued by images of my former colleagues: their pale dismembered bodies, the sound of cracking bone, their blood on my hands, their shrieks of pain, and the taste of flesh.

I sat in our dark bedroom, the computer screen glaring with a harsh, white light. A banner flashed before my eyes: “Seek wisdom by understanding yourself.”
“Chloe, check this out,” I called over my shoulder to my girlfriend playing The Sims on her laptop.
She glanced up, her brow furrowing in confusion before giving me a bemused look. “What the hell are you looking at?” she asked.
“It’s some cult,” I replied, unable to hide my fascination. “I fell down a rabbit hole and found this local place downtown. It's a derivative of Aleister Crowley and Golden Dawn bullshit.” I pointed to the Google Street View image of a dilapidated storefront in an ethnic shopping center.
She smirked, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “I never pegged you as the religious type.”
“Check this out,” I continued, clicking through the site. “They have some photos.”
We spent some time going through the albums celebrating various solstices. Most were taken in an odd room with black and white checkered floors, adorned with Egyptian pseudo-artifacts, bathed in the glow of red and purple lights that transformed the scene into a surreal dreamscape.
The people certainly had an alternative vibe. Tattoos were plentiful, but other than that they looked like they came from all different walks of life. Many of them looked like they had their fair share of bullying in high school - no shortage of that. But most of them looked relatively normal aside from the occasional piercing.
One photograph in particular caught my eye. A woman, sitting in a bright red room, sat on an altar, holding a staff in her right hand, wearing nothing. A man was kneeled before her, his arms tied behind him, rope anchored to the ceiling. They were sliding a knife down his back, a small trickle of blood dripping to the floor.
“Damn,” Chloe started. “She’s butt-ass naked.”
“You wanna go?” I asked. “They’re having a get together tonight.”
“You know what, fuck it. Why not? It’s not like we’re doing anything.” she replied.
“Good,” I smiled, standing up. “Because I already ordered an Uber.”
She sighed before opening a drawer and pulling out a small pipe. “I’ll go, but i'm not going sober.”
It was a cold, shitty Seattle winter night. We got dropped off in the parking lot and spent a few minutes looking for the storefront. We finally found it next to a dog groomer and Pho restaurant with some pun for the name I can’t seem to remember.
We entered the shop, which consisted of two narrow isles separated by wood shelves barely big enough for me to fit down. We spent some time looking at the various items, my attention diverting to a vial of elk blood. I remember wondering if they were even allowed to sell this without some type of medical certification they definitely did not have while Chloe shuffled through a bowl of mix and match crystals.
“Can I help you?” I heard a woman say from the back as she emerged from a beaded curtain. She was a short, overweight woman wearing what I could only describe as a sports bra and hula skirt.
“Hi, uh,” I stuttered. “I’m George and this is Chloe. We’re here for the… winter solstice celebration?”
“Oh, goodie! Newcomers!” she said with an out of place, overjoyed expression as she clapped her hands. Chloe and I laughed nervously.
“The door is in the back, but you can come through here just this time.” she said with a smile, arm holding the beaded curtain open.
We walked through a dark hallway, somehow more cramped than the shop, into a rather large room. A gaggle of people were huddled in the back, which Chloe and I quietly shuffled into.
A bearded man paraded around the room, white robes and red headdress cascading into a cloak, knuckles adorned with several large rings gripping a spear, held vertically in front of him. Behind him, another bald man, white robes and yellow cloak, followed behind, white sleeves crossed over his chest.
I glanced at Chloe’s bloodshot eyes, THC clearly flowing through her system. I gave her a knowing look, as if to say Having fun yet? She returned a slow smile.
Without warning, the entire crowd clapped their hands together over their heads as a woman in blue robes walked past, waving a censure leaking white smoke. We awkwardly followed to match the group.
The blue curtains on the back wall opened to reveal an older Asian woman sitting perched on the altar I saw in the photos, again, completely naked. And before you ask, no. She wasn’t attractive. It’s never the ones you hope it is. The red robed man kneeled down and softly kissed her knees.
I glanced back at Chloe. Her smile was so big I was afraid she was going to laugh at any moment. I pinched her on the side and whispered into her ear “Do. Not. Fucking. Laugh”. Honestly, I think I just made it worse. Her face turned beet red as she bit her cheeks.
The ritual went on for another half hour or so. They must’ve said “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law” at least a dozen times.
We were getting kind of bored and were ready to leave before the woman in the blue robes wandered in with a caged chicken.
"No fucking way" I thought. Surely enough, the man in the yellow robes held the chicken high in the air, before slitting its throat and draining blood into a large metallic basin. The man winced as the chicken flailed violently, scratching up his arms, before eventually succumbing to blood loss.
One by one, each person there stood between a white and black pillar saying love and intention in Greek before eating a piece of something, taking a sip of blood, and saying “There is no part of me that is not of the Gods.”
Chloe and I hung back, and politely declined when our turn came. Once all was said and done, they busted out some alcohol and started celebrating. We slipped out into the street, bursting out laughing. After we finally collected ourselves, Chloe whipped out her phone and showed me she took dozens of pictures of the ritual.
We laughed our asses off the entire way home. First thing she did was open her laptop and post the pictures on Twitter, tagging the lodge with the caption “me and the boys chilling right now”.
We returned to the usual rhythm of our lives. I went to work, conducting meetings and answering emails, while Chloe went back to her classes. A few days later, Chloe checked her Twitter and saw that she had gained a few thousand likes. The whole ordeal became a running joke between us.
I would eat fruit snacks and sip on my soda, saying, “There is no part of me that is not of the Gods”. A few weeks later, we had mostly forgotten about it, except for the occasional recounting as a funny story to regale our friends.
One night while Chloe and I were spending our evening the usual way with me on the computer and her on her laptop, I felt her furiously tap my shoulder while staring wide eyed at the window. Confused, I took my headphones off and walked over, pulling back the curtain to reveal 6 people standing in black robes and animal masks watching us from the hillside.
“What do we do, should I call the cops?” Chloe whimpered.
“No, they’re just a bunch of larpers. They’re not going to do shit! Just trying to scare us.” I said angrily as I closed the blinds and hopped back on my computer.
Chloe sat there for a few minutes in a tense pose with her arms folded together. She went to double check the door was locked, before we continued our night as normal.
The next day I got a text from Chloe frantically telling me to come home immediately. When I arrived, there was a squad car parked outside our building. I ran up the stairs to see two officers standing by Chloe in the doorway. I nearly shouted asking what was going on. They lead me inside to show me a massive black symbol drawn on our wall, a six-pointed star made from one continuous line.
We finished our police report and they told us they’d get back to us if they find anything. I’ve been robbed often enough to know that means they’re going to forget about this before they’ve even gotten back into their squad car.
Furious, I stormed over to the shop and banged on the window. The hula skirt woman came over and cracked the door open just enough for me to see one of her eyes.
“What the fuck do you think your little posse is doing!?” I screamed at her. “Breaking into my apartment like that!? You all are fucking psychos!”
“I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about”, she said with a sly grin.
“Oh, yeah?” I said pointing a finger in her face. “If anyone tries any shit like that again I’m going to burn your goddamn shop to the ground, do you hear me?”
She looked at the ground, clearly nervous. I have never blown up at a stranger like this but I could tell my threats were working.
After a moment of silence I stormed off again, back towards home.
“You meddle with forces you do not understand!” she called out from the shop.
I picked up a glass bottle from the sidewalk and chucked it, smashing against her shop window, forcing her to close the door and disappear into the shadows. I’m not particularly proud of how I behaved in this moment, but unless you’ve had someone break into your home and draw shit on the walls, hold on to your judgment.
The next few days passed without so much as a peep from them. Chloe and I began to relax, convincing ourselves that the cult had been scared off. Life seemed to be returning to normal, and the unsettling incident became just another story.

I was walking around your ordinary American mall, when a spotted an older Japanese man reading a Japanese newspaper. I looked at him for a bit and noticed the paper was brand new. Not like he stuffed it in a closet or drawer for a year and pulled it out to read today unless he had it vacuumed sealed. Makes me wonder where he got it. There are a lot unlikely situations I can guess at ,but it's all too improbable. Like him owning a printing press and downloading the latest new from Japan and having it print out. Or he just got off the flight and brought the paper with him. The most likely explanation is that there is some foreign news vender that I'm completely ignorant about. Can someone explain this to me?

Platform(s): PC other platfrom not sure
Genre: something like driving at the city,
Estimated year of release: 2005-2014
Graphics/art style: nothing special, at that time pretty good
Notable characters: IDK
Notable gameplay mechanics: IDK if it was demo or not, but at the start of you story/campaing? (there missions) you are given mercedes SL 350 like on image you're meant to go pick someone at the pier, after picking some guy, there is little cutscene where will show up 2 of the other mercedes cabriolets and they are chasing you, you need tom somehow destroy them or run from them (i don't remember particulary...) after you got this mission, after that you will get to another mission when you will be given cab taxi tuned and you are again need to pick someone or something idk.
I remember that you need to just to drive to green circle and after I don't remember. Your car as well the chasers car can be damage, there is only visual damage, but if your car is too damaged the mission will fail... I played it on PC and I think it was standalone game not flash game but again I can say for sure.
Thank you for any answer.
sl 350
tuned cab taxi, you will get this after mission of getting of those 2 sl 350 drivers
s

At the end of March, I set a goal to start publishing a weekly newsletter on Beehiiv. I had started before on Mailchimp but couldn't make it past three weeks. Editing and making the email look acceptable was a pain, and I couldn't get into a flow. Then, Beehiiv came along and looked too good to be true.
I got pulled into the shiny new platform and restarted with Beehiiv, and I am so glad I did. I am running a six-week streak, and I am going as motivated as I was on day one. I have never written so much in my life.
Importing from Mailchimp was super easy, and I could edit some of the old posts within Beehiiv to update the links, for example.
I didn't do too much on the initial styling. I changed the color scheme, added a description, and slapped a logo together. I just wanted to get back to writing. And I wanted a system. I wanted a task each day that brought me to complete my weekly post without distractions or detours.
The platform makes it easy to focus on precisely that. After sending the initial two emails, with my style and structure evolving, it was easy to repeat the same steps week after week to get my post out (Research, Outline, Writing, Edit, Final Prep).
I usually style while writing and a bit more during the edit. After six weeks, writing and using the "/" commands continuously feels so simple—I don't have to think about the tool and can focus 100% on the content.
As I had my weekly rhythm going, I had a bit of time for the "tool" again. I set up Google Analytics, SEO, Tag Manager, Indexing my page, etc.,
The YouTube videos Beehiiv puts out make it super simple to learn and understand (no background knowledge needed). Even if the Beehiiv UI had changed (with the new Website builder), the comment section of the videos had these updates. Huge kudos to the guides!
Now that I have content and trackers on all the things, diving into the Growth section makes sense.
The analytics section about where subscribers come from is helpful, but I have not gotten any organic growth yet, which brings me to the "improvable."
Remember why I stopped MailChimp? I had to do too much outside of creating my content. This is how organic growth (cross-posting on social media, etc.) feels to me. But I know that without it, I am not seeing any growth. I understand that that's a task that is on me. I just wish I had a clear path.
I have a small number of subscribers (50), most of whom were gathered from a subscription form on Medium posts and brought over from MailChimp. But outside of that, I have seen no growth.
I will try the Referral program next, but I don't yet know how to optimize my organic growth system.
I feel like the benefit of a follow/follow back commenting system (community) on other platforms is that the newsletter gets promoted indirectly. Pure interaction might spark some growth.
On Beehiiv, I have to go outside the platform and "plug" my newsletter, and I have not yet figured out how to best do that without feeling like I am promoting it too much. The Medium posts, I posted on Medium first and added a form below. But I do want to post on my newsletter first, not on Medium, do I them cross-post there? Would that hurt SEO?
This would be another cool YT tutorial section, or maybe that exists or maybe I need to do a digital growth marketing course to get better at it. But if I have 5 hours per week, I'd rather put that into creating my content, and maybe the referral feature is my best bet?
Would love to hear your thoughts on that and am excited to post a 12-week streak update if anyone is interested.

Here's my notes throughout the Google Marketing Live. Some stuff may be omitted and I phrased everything how they would have in the presentation (overly positive).

Google Marketing Live 2024

~Philipp Schindler – Introduction~
New era of AI
-A few years ago the conversation was: What is AI?
-Now the question is: What can AI do for me and how can I implement it as fast as possible?

15% of searches are new on Google every day
-This number has held steady for more than a decade
“The perfect search engine should understand exactly what you mean and give you back exactly what you need.”

AI Overviews

• People who use AI Overviews use search more
• Higher quality clicks/more time on site
• Rolling out to US

Trend 1 – The “Exactly-What-I-Want” search
The volume of searches with 5 or more words grew 1.5x as fast

• Instead of “men’s running shoes”
• “how to pick the right running shoes for a runner beginner with high arches”

Trend 2 – Complex Search Made Easy
“What are good options for aa day out in dallas for kids? What are some options with ice cream shops nearby?”

Trend 3 – Search Beyond Words

• Search for things that are difficult to describe.
• 12 billion visual searches a month using lens
• 1 in 4 visual searches has commercial intent
• You will soon be able to search with visual

Circle to Search
Search anything on your screen with just a circle, highlight, or tap.

Trend 4 – Beyond Answers
Some people are not looking for answer, they are looking to explore, or be inspired.

• “Outfit Ideas”
• “Best Places to Eat with Kids”
• “Rainy Day Activities”

Rather than just getting a simple AI response, they will be getting a catered ai page specifically created for their request.

Small YouTube Blurb

• YouTube #1 most watched streaming platform
• 1B hours of YouTube on CTV daily
• Generative AI is the next playground for YouTube creators

Gen AI x Creativity

• Suite of tools for content creators

~Vidhya Srinivasan~
People have limitless options to browse across devices

• 2 out of 3 consumers say making purchase decisions requires more effort than ever
• Have to be on every surface consumers touch
  • Grab their attention
  • Show them you are their solution
• Google is supposed to be the matchmaker for consumers and businesses
• Showing the perfect ad on every surface is difficult

“This is where Gen AI will unlock enormous opportunities”

• Last year they were just getting started with images
• They’re applying the latest Gemini models to teach their other models
  • EX: teaching their algorithm about queries that have never been seen before
• Gen AI is still early-stage tech so they won’t get everything right
• Will become more powerful and helpful as they learn about your business

AI will influence the entire marketing cycle

• Creative
  • Building creative will only take days/hours
  • AI will draw on hero assets and create variations
  • Every ad will be a better match for each consumer’s intent in the moment
• Media
  • No trade-offs between precise targeting and growth
• Measurement
  • Real-time adjustments based on campaign results

"AI doesn’t have taste, it doesn’t have ingenuity, creativity, and strategic insights"

Google Search – Generative AI

• Search in new ways
  • More complex questions
  • Searching with images
• AI overviews will appear in search results when they are particularly helpful beyond SERPs
  • They will be stay focused on sending valuable traffic to publishers and creative
• More choice leads to more opportunity for advertisers
• The will be testing search and shopping ads being integrated into AI overviews
  • Not just above or below
• Match the ads, not just to query context, but also with the information within the AI overview
  • Example: “How do I get wrinkles out of my clothes without an iron”
    • AI overview gives tips
    • Within the AI generated blurb, a wrinkle free spray sponsored ad appears

~Sylvanus Bent~
AI Applications in Search Ads

• Ads in Visual Search
  • EX: You see a piece of luggage at the airport you love, but you don’t know how to describe it or what brand it is. Use visual lens to search for it, then sponsored product ads will show up within the results
• Every search ad is more than an offer, it’s an experience
• Exploring AI ads with recommendations across different verticles
  • EX: Search for “short term storage” – ad shows up, but now you can click into a new dynamic ad experience, where you can customize your needs.
• Takes the definition of a helpful ad to the next level

Conversational Experience in Google Ads

• Can give your URL to Google Ads to generate relevant assets
  • Helpful for smaller businesses

Power Pair

• Combination of Search and Performance Max campaigns
• Delivers the strongest ROI

Profit Optimization

• Making it a new goal in PMAX and shopping campaigns
• Maximize profit by optimizing bidding for gross profit on products

~Tim Frank – Asset Generation~
Advertisers who improve their PMAX ad strength to Excellent see 6% more conversions on average.

Creative Controls & Customization

• Brand Colors
• Brand Fonts – only closely matched
• Upload reference images for AI to generate based on

Additional Reporting & Controls

• Placement reporting and exclusions for YouTube
• Asset Level Reporting
  • Asset reporting for each creative asset

~Nicky Rettke – YouTube~
AI-Powered Video Campaigns

• Video Reach drive awareness
• Video View drive consideration
• Introduced Demand Gen
  • Reaches over 3 billion monthly users
  • Demand Gen will roll out to Display and Video 360 and Search Ads 360
  • Audience list threshold lowered to 100 users for Demand Gen lookalike audiences
• Over 40% increase in view through rate when utilizing vertical video
• Viewers can swipe left on shorts ads to go directly to a landing page
• Introducing animated image ads
  • Pulls images from your product feed and animates them in on unite
• Demand Gen with Product feeds
  • 33% more conversions at a similar CPA
• Shop while you watch

~Matt Madrigal – Shopping~
Product Studio

• Create custom scenes
• Change backdrops
• 2 new features
  • Create visuals that match brand style w/ reference image
  • Image to video
• Brand profile on search
  • To be rolled out in the coming months

Shopping Ads

• Will start highlighting key attributes and stuff from reviews
• 3D shopping ad formats
• Immersive Ad Experiences
• Virtual Try-On
• Video Highlights
  • Rolling out for beauty brands first

~Gaurav Bhaya – The Data Guy~
Good AI requires good data

• First party data delivers better results and helps protect your campaigns against privacy changes
• Collect, protect, and use your data.
• Google Ads Data Manager is now available to everyone
• Simplifies putting first-party management all in one place
• Have an active pipeline from all data sources to one place
• Measurement diagnostics is being introduced to Google Ads
  • Check Engine Light for your site
• Google’s goal is for us to not have to worry about first-party data

Measurement

• Generated Insights and Reports
• Generate a report with a prompt.
• Generated insights

Marketing Mix Models
Meridian is Google’s Open Source MMM and will be available later this year.
tl;dr - very tasty nothing burger.

• Remember, the anime is covering the Novel with the Manwha's art style, and the novel has slower pacing than the Manwha (270 LN Chapters, 200 Manwha Chapters). A lot of people here seem to forget that.

With season 1, the anime has covered: - 45 chapters of the manwha - 55 chapters of the novel
Season 2 could cover the next: - 65 chapters of the manwha - 70 chapters of the novel - This includes the entirety of the Jeju Island arc.

• Season 2 of the anime should have 13 episodes.
  
• The anime trailers had a quick scene that correlates to a moment late in the Jeju Island arc (IYKYK).
  
• Additionally, the reconnaissance mission was anime-original content, as well as the initial appearance of a lot of characters we don't see until later in other mediums.
  
• Despite some scenes of some characters' backstories being confirmed for season 2, it definitely will NOT take up even close to as much collective time as all the anime-original content did in Season 1, buying more time for battles at least, and probably a lot more of the story as well.
  
• A novel-to-anime pacing increase of ~20% is the absolute most necessary to cover everything THROUGH THE JEJU ISLAND ARC, and such wouldn't be negatively noticable to anime-only watchers at the very least.
  

I replaced the ball bearings in my bicycle's freehub recently and decided to take a spontaneous ride through the eastern German countryside to see if my repair had been worth the time. As I set out, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the flowers were blooming. It was a Sunday, so everyone and their grandmother was out cruising on their cumbersome E-bikes, their knees jutting out to both sides due to saddle heights optimized for pulling on the throttle instead of pedaling. This had the added benefit of taking up as much space as possible on the roadway. After self-righteously overtaking a group of beer-gutted mountain bikers, I was humbled by the sound of a wrench falling out of my saddlebag onto the cobbles that had shaken it loose. The group passed me by as I paced, head hung low, looking for the wrench. Another E-biker traveling in the other direction kindly stopped to help. After a short while, my wrench now found and firmly fastened, we went our separate ways.
Villages are often compact in Germany - you will breeze through wide-open fields and sparsely-developed forests before jarringly entering a 9ft-wide gauntlet with nothing but gapless concrete-colored house walls and wooden entrance gates on either side of you until you have made it through. That, and light-blue AfD (Alternative for Germany) election posters hung about 6-10ft up on lightposts. Going through these villages, you get the impression that the AfD is the established party and the others are the newcomers. I saw a single Die Linke (The Left) poster ("Those who must flee should find refuge!") on the ride; 70% were from the AfD and most of the rest were single-issue parties (animal rights, antisenescence research) or the glowie WerteUnion (Values Union). The AfD's slogans seemed to stick to a three-concept guideline: "Make construction easier!", "Agriculture instead of solar parks!". Another stuck out to me: "Re-imagine Europe!". I am a voteless immigrant along for the ride.
I did some reimagining of my route as my legs began to cramp, and I headed for the nearest city with a train station. I got on the Deutsche Bahn going home with two minutes to spare. By chance, a friend returning from a camping trip was also on the train, so I sat with him. I used to take the same train multiple times per month to visit my girlfriend years ago. Some things had changed: now an autistic German man will mutter something about coffee as he walks by - if you are quick, you can buy some. His son, sitting beside of the mobile coffee stand across from us, gave excited commentary to my friend's camping stories between playing something on his phone and secretly downing packets of sugar from the stand. A burly German woman checked our tickets - now, an even burlier, Central Asian bearded man with a security vest stood close behind her and watched for sudden moves. The Indian students and leopard-printed Eastern European women we shared the car with didn't make any trouble.
After another connection, I made it to my stop, got some American-style fried chicken from a Syrian restaurant and got a beer from a kiosk. The friendly tattooed German guy who used to work here has been replaced part-time by a disinterested Arab who can't be arsed to tell me the price out loud. Finally, I sat down to eat at home, but my enjoyment was interrupted by the angry buzzing of a Japanese hornet flying into the kitchen.