So, I've been playing a lot the Sims 3 lately and even though I enjoy it, I wonder why there are no other similar games that try to bring the same level of immersion but with a less child-friendly vibe to it. So I wrote a detailed description of what something like that would look like and, honestly, it would probably be one of my top 3 dream games if it were ever produced. Here it is:

General Concept

A life-simulator that functions much like The Sims games, but instead of being set in whimsical world with a focus on an overarching sense of control over multiple characters in a very family-friendly aesthetic, it’s focused on creating a single character (you can still build a family and have pets but you only control your own character) and set in a grittier, more mature reality in comparison.
You can still live a normal, common life with your character, but the game implements more realistic aspects of life onto it, such as crime, tragedy, violence and nudity. That’s not to say it’s supposed to be a hyper-realistic, edgy game. Quite the contrary: I picture the looks of the game to be even more cartoonish, with a cell-shaded, yet grimy, watercolor aesthetic similar to that of Disco Elysium, full of dark humor and not taking itself too seriously. The animations should be exaggerated and caricatured, and the characters speak a gibberish language like they do in the Sims games.
Another aspect that it deviates from the Sims is the world it takes place. Instead of disconnected open worlds of varying sizes like in the Sims 3, for example, the game takes place in a connected world that, for the purposes of this post, we can call it Dunhaven: a sprawling island-state. It won’t be loaded in its entirety during gameplay. Instead, it sports a small town, a medium sized city and a large city that the player can travel between, as well as some pockets of wilderness that will serve their own gameplay purpose, and the playable areas are divided into the different neighborhoods of each city, which the player can travel between freely but has to go through a necessary loading screen.
I envision it being set in the 70s-80s, which can help differentiate it from the Sims even further, while also giving us the excuse to not implement any internet/social media mechanics to it and instead allowing us to focus on developing other more important game mechanics without breaking immersion.

Setting

Pine Hollow - A small, simple rural town with full-on americana vibes. It has a single “neighborhood” (a single world) and roughly 50 NPCs, 10 of those being hand-made and the other 40 being randomly generated at the start of the game.
Springview - A medium-sized coastal city that kind of straddles the line between rural and urban aesthetics. Lots of residential areas, some large buildings here and there. It sports 3 to 4 different neighborhoods, about 100 total NPCs (25 of which are hand-made).
Onyx City - Full-on metropolis. Think skyscrapers, crowded streets, graffiti-covered abandoned buildings, and neon signs. I imagine it as being separated into 8 to 10 total neighborhoods, about 600 total NPCs, and 30 of those are hand-made.

Controls

Camera & World Speed
Players can rotate the camera by holding down the mouse wheel and dragging. Zooming in and out is done by scrolling the mouse wheel. WASD keys can be used to move the camera around. The spacebar pauses and resumes gameplay. The "+" and "-" keys adjust the game speed, with options for normal, fast, and ultra-fast modes.
Interaction
Most interactions with objects, NPCs, and the environment are performed by clicking with the left mouse button on an asset such as an object or an NPC. Players can then access a circular real-time menu with various options by clicking on the corresponding asset. When clicking an object or NPC, the game displays relevant actions (e.g., “Talk,” “Use,” “Inspect,” “Pick Up”). When clicking an object or NPC, the game displays relevant actions (e.g., “Talk,” “Use,” “Inspect,” “Pick Up”).
Moving Around
Players can explore the world by clicking on the floor or ground. A circular menu appears with three movement options: Walk Here, Run Here (faster movement at the cost of Energy) and Sneak Here (Slower, quieter movement, based on the character’s Alacrity skill, which I'll explain later).
UI & HUD
There's the player’s character portrait, displaying their name and current funds. A clock indicating the in-game time. Buttons to adjust game speed (pause, normal, fast-forward). A Needs panel showing bars representing the character’s needs. Another panel with icons representing other Sims the player has met, with visible bars indicating the level of approval or disapproval from each NPC and a gauge representing the player’s notoriety within the game world. An inventory panel. A Skills panel. A careers panel. A Map panel accessible from the HUD, showing available lots and locations. Clicking on it allows the player to travel to different lots.

Creating a Character

Appearance
The character creation interface could use a Direct Manipulation Interface, where players click and drag to adjust facial features. Players can adjust the size, shape, and position of eyes, nose, mouth, etc., with real-time feedback on how these changes affect their character’s perceived attractiveness. The game internally stores data for an “ideal” face based on proportions commonly associated with attractiveness (e.g., symmetry, specific ratios). If the deviation exceeds a threshold, the character gains traits like “Ugly”. The closer the character’s features are to the ideal, the character gains traits like “Good-Looking”.
Using a Body Triangle Customization System, players can drag a selector within a triangle whose vertices represent muscular, thin, and fat body types. The closer to a vertex, the more pronounced the characteristics: Muscular: Increased Athletic skill levels, higher strength. Thin: Increased agility, faster movement speed. Fat: Higher HP, more resilience.
Skills
Skills in the game are quantifiable attributes that represent a character’s proficiency in various activities. When a character performs an action related to a skill, they gain XP. The amount of XP is determined by the action’s complexity and the character’s current skill level. Simple actions give less XP, while complex tasks provide more. The character’s skill level impacts the game world dynamically. The game performs skill checks by comparing a character’s skill level against a difficulty rating for a task. Success or failure triggers different outcomes, such as successfully repairing an item or failing to remain undetected. Higher Cooking levels reduce the chance of burning food, while higher Alacrity levels decrease the detection radius of NPCs. The game logic includes conditional statements that check skill levels to trigger events. If a character’s Farming skill surpasses a certain level, the game might offer a chance to enter a gardening competition.
Traits
At character creation, players are allocated a fixed number of trait points, say 5, to spend on various traits. These are beneficial traits that provide advantages to the character. Each positive trait has a cost associated with it, reflecting its strength and impact on gameplay. Conversely, negative traits introduce challenges or disadvantages. However, selecting these traits rewards the player with additional trait points, which can then be used to purchase more positive traits. While many traits are selected at the start, players can also acquire new traits as they progress in the game. These could be the result of in-game events, achievements, or choices the character makes, similar to the progression in The Sims games.

Needs

Each need is interconnected and affects the character’s overall experience in the game. For example, a character with low Energy might not perform well at work, leading to a decrease in income, which then affects their ability to purchase food, impacting their hunger and health.
Specific Needs
Hunger: The need to eat. Bladder: The need to relieve oneself. Hygiene: The need for cleanliness. Boredom: The need for mental stimulation. Energy: The need for rest.
Greater Needs
Health: Represents the character’s physical well-being.
Decreases from: Hunger, lack of energy, full bladder, injuries (e.g., being shot).
Consequences: Players can visit hospitals or buy med-kits and bandages to treat wounds. At zero, the character passes out. Without assistance, they could die.
Integrity: Reflects the character’s mood and mental fortitude.
Decreases from: Medium-low health, poor hygiene, high boredom.
Consequences: Affects work performance, social interactions, and decision-making.
Relationships & Reputation
Similar to The Sims, there’s a visible bar indicating the level of approval or disapproval from each NPC. Interactions with NPCs (positive or negative) affect the approval/disapproval level. Additionally, there's an invisible metric to the player called Presence, and it also influences NPC behavior. Your Presence increases whenever you act in a decisive, tough manner or make difficult decisions that the NPCs witness or find out about.
High Presence & Approval: NPCs respect the player more, may follow orders, and show loyalty.
Low Presence & Approval: NPCs like the player but may act disrespectfully or playfully challenge them.
High Presence & Disapproval: NPCs fear or are intimidated by the player.
Low Presence & Disapproval: NPCs openly despise the player without fear.
Fame/Notoriety/Reputation System
Fame affects social interactions and NPC behavior towards the player. NPCs can know you personally or non-personally. Whenever you personally meet an NPC, the game takes note that they are one of your personal acquaintances. The bigger your Presence and the more extreme your approval/disapproval, the higher the chance that NPC might talk about you to other NPCs. Whenever the game rolls and decides the NPC told another about you, the other NPC now knows you non-personally. Also, the game generates news events based on significant player actions (e.g., major crimes, heroic deeds). These events are reported in newspapers, radio broadcasts, or TV, which also increase your Fame.
Attraction
NPCs have preferences for body type, hair and eye color, and personality, which are randomly generated. Flirting is similar to The Sims, where players can engage in romantic interactions based on mutual attraction and relationship status.
Starting Relationships
Players begin with a network of acquaintances and friends, which is randomly generated based on their starting location. The game algorithm assigns relationships based on the character’s traits and chosen neighborhood.
Family
Family members have their own routines and make decisions based on their needs, desires, and personalities. The player can interact with family members through a variety of actions, such as conversing, sharing activities, or providing care. Family members experience life events independently, such as job promotions, friendships, or school-related activities. Pets also have their own behaviors and needs, such as hunger, attention, and exercise. The player can form a bond with pets through activities like playing, feeding, and training.

Real Estate

Players begin the game by selecting their first home, which can be a simple apartment, a modest house, or even a plot of land to build on. Players can personalize their first home with limited resources, encouraging them to progress in the game to unlock more options. Some homes are for sale, others for rent.
Building & Furnishing
Players enter Build/Buy Mode to construct or modify houses and community lots. In this mode, time stops, and they can use architectural tools to design layouts, add rooms, and decorate spaces with furniture, decorations, and landscaping. As players advance in their careers and accumulate wealth, they can move to larger homes or acquire additional properties. Introduce a dynamic real estate market where property values fluctuate based on location, size, and in-game events. Players can rent out homes they are not using to NPCs. Simplify the moving process to a few clicks, where players can pack up and relocate to a new home, bringing or selling their belongings.

Studying

In Dunhaven, characters can pursue education and professional development through degrees and courses. Characters can take short-term courses (e.g., cooking classes, photography workshops, language courses). Courses have specific schedules and durations. Attend classes regularly to gain vast skill improvements (e.g., Cooking skill from a culinary course).
Getting a Degree
Characters can enroll in universities or community colleges, choose a degree program (e.g., Business Administration, Computer Science, Fine Arts), attend classes according to their schedules. Graduation grants a degree, unlocking related career paths. Having a degree opens up higher-paying jobs and specialized professions. Certain interactions (e.g., discussing academic topics) become available. Networking opportunities increase.

Businesses

Some of the buildings (called Lots) in each neighborhood have a Business. A Business is the place where the player drives to go to work, and each Business is unique in their pay, work hours and schedule. Gameplay wise, players look for jobs on a computer or cellphone, select a certain Business that is hiring people from type of job the player is interested in performing, and the player drives there for an interview. The interviews are just a flavor to the Skill Requirements each Business have. After being hired, they must drive to the business lot during their work hours, and gameplay fast-forwards to the end of the workday. A randomly generated description of the workday is provided, influenced by the player’s skills and integrity.
A character may decide to create their own Business. In this case, the player must choose a Lot to build their business and the business has its own fame meter that increases as the players work consistently and pay for brand recognition by contacting media companies. They will receive less pay in the beginning and more as they hire other workers, increase their skills and increase the fame level of the Business. Players must purchase larger lots to accommodate more workers.
Job Progression
Players have options to work in different ways (e.g., Work Hard, Take it Easy, Business as Usual). A job experience bar on the HUD tracks progress, with levels gained through work performance. Missing workdays or attending work with low integrity or health can negatively affect the experience bar.
Illegal Businesses
Illegal Businesses – called Factions – work a little differently to normal Businesses. There are 7 Factions in the game: The Donatelli Family, the Kazukia, The Iron Riders, The Vanguard, Los Hijos, and the Ice Kold Gang. Each has several Lots in each neighborhood available in each city, where they operate, some of them working as a legitimate business simultaneously, such as bars. If a player wishes to create their own Faction, they will face opposition by the existing Faction, during work and also in their off time by real time combat.

Violence

Players can choose to fight any NPC by clicking a contextual option (e.g., “Brawl”). The outcome depends on both parties’ fighting skills, health, and integrity. The game performs an invisible roll based on parameters (skills, health, integrity). The result determines the winner (players don’t see this roll; it’s for animation selection). If the player significantly outmatches the NPC, an animation shows the player easily beating up the opponent. If the match is close, a more cinematic fight animation plays out.
Firearms
Firearms skill determines accuracy and handling of guns. When using firearms, the game considers the player’s skill level and the other person’s cover (full cover, half cover, etc.). The result affects the shot’s effectiveness.
Detection
Players can’t see NPCs directly behind them. Unexplored rooms remain hidden until entered. Players can choose to sneak by clicking “Sneak Here” instead of “Go Here.” This allows stealthy movement and avoids detection.

Crime

When an NPC witnesses a crime or its aftermath (e.g., seeing a robbery, noticing a dead body), the game logs this event. If the witness knows the player personally (e.g., has met them), they can identify the player by name or face. If the witness doesn’t know the player personally but saw their face, the police will take longer to track down the player. If the player covered their face (e.g., with a mask), the police note the outfit instead of the face. Witnesses may or may not contact the police based on their relationship with the player (e.g., fear, loyalty, moral obligation). The player can attempt to intimidate witnesses to prevent them from reporting the crime.
The game rolls for factors such as witness knowledge, presence of evidence, and police proximity. The time it takes for the police to track down the player depends on these factors. Police officers near the crime scene recognize the player’s face and approach them. The police may also interview other NPCs in the vicinity to gather information.

“Get the fuck out of my house with this ‘ old country’ shit Sylvia, I’m serious. “ I hear my dad say from the kitchen downstairs.
“I give children and idiots three warnings. That’s your first. “ It takes me a second to recognize my aunt’s voice. I’ve only met her a handful of times, and it’s nearly 2am.
“Syl, he’s right, this is crazy. I’m Roma, I’m proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. “ My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and I’m fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
“So you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesn’t mean the other side ignores you. “ Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
“Might as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolas’ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you don’t need him. “ Mom isn’t pleading, but I can hear she’s worried.
“Why are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. “ My dad isn’t worried, he’s angry.
“That’s two. “ Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
“That’s three. “ Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like he’s trying to talk but can’t. My heart starts to race, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know it’s bad.
“Syl! Jesus Christ, that’s my husband. “ Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
“Happy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. He’s 16, he has a license, yes? “ I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
“No, he’s not interested in driving. You can’t take him Syl. “ my mom sounds frantic, Sylvia’s steps are measured and heavy.
“Not interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. “ Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didn’t just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that I’m awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driver’s seat, she’s 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, it’s, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
“Any chance of putting both hands on the wheel? “ I say, I’m mad, but I don’t even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and I’m shocked. It’s an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
“Go through too many steering wheels that way. “ She says with a smirk.
“What’s going on? “ I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
“You’re a big boy, so if you want the truth, I’ll give it to you. There’s a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because you’re strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because you’re unknown, and, little one, disposable. “ Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this woman’s energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, “You have to put that out! “ as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor I’ve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
I’m stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe she’s some kind of, I don’t know, mobster or something.
But that isn’t quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. It’s like no one notices what she’s doing.
“How does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I don’t come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. “ Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, “You’ll see when we get there. “.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the world’s oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says “ Gritt Auctions” the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
“They’re family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. “ She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my mom’s family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
“When do I get to know what’s going on? “ I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. I’d say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
“Don’t whine. You’ve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robert’s attitude, rejected by your family.
I don’t want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? “ Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
“No… “ I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I don’t even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
“Next one’s with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? “ Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation I’m in.
“Answer is still no. Because to be angry, I’d have to know a God-Damned thing about what’s going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now I’m standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, I’m your new King. So no, I’m not angry, I’m annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. “ I’m shocked at what I’m saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylvia’s face seems to soften slightly.
“There’s the Gritt in you. “ She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise it’s half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
“Before I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. “
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see it’s made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
“You’re not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. I’ll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. “ The thing says, it’s voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
“ 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? “ Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps it’s jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
“If I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, I’d be a huge fan. “ I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, “And if anything feels like just telling me what’s going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. “
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
“Augustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets what’s coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. “ Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
“If your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. “ She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
“You’re going to have to turn around sometime kid. “ The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
“Holy shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you don’t even get it. I can see what you’re thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out… “ Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I don’t have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as it’s clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I’ve slept, but I’m brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize it’s been at least a day since I’ve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family I’ve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like I’m a used car.
“I’m always right soft boy. Remember that. “ She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes “Faron’s Funhouse. “
It’s a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but there’s a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen ‘cousins’ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, it’s mismatched eyes rolling in it’s skull.
I don’t hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
“Eyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where you’re going. “ Are her only instructions.
For once, they’re clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and I’m equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what you’d think. I know you’re all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. It’s a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. It’s obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but it’s nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, I’m shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, I’m standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, I’ve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell let’s throw Pokemon and the like in there as it’s basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman I’ve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as I’m locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
“Just hit ya didn’t it, bud? “ He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, “You’re not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly aren’t my fucking partner. “, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, “ You’re a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. “
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
“If I’ve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. “ The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snail’s foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. It’s face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, he’s big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kid’s right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didn’t set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
“Man after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. “ Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
“Don’t be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of us“ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
“You have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. “ Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
“Was that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. “ He’s panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesn’t feel like watching a fight, it’s more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
I’m running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but I’m determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, it’s ugly, it’s not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
“We have to win. “ he says, lunging at me with the blade.
He’s slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as I’d like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad I’m hurt, but it doesn’t really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I can’t escape.
It's a stalemate, I’m no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but he’s missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. I’m thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I can’t get any leverage. It’s not a stalemate, it’s a war of attrition that I’m losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, he’s too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesn’t matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someone’s life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
I’m frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, “We’ve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. “ he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
“How’s it feel to be a child killer, bud? “, Augustus laughs, “Not that I can’t tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didn’t it? “
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
“I can’t let that go to waste, now can I? “ he slaps me lightly, “It’s going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point I’m going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? “
Of course, I made it out alive. It’d be kind of hard to have posted this if I didn’t.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I’ll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. I’m in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.

On Wednesday I will be uploading the pro life if Danganronpa World Wide the best students from around the world attend hopes peak only to get trapped in a killing game
(I will be uploading them on my deviant art page I use the same user name there lol so it’s Joelowes on deviantart)
They are
Guys
Joe Lowes-Ultimate Wrestler-A hardcore punk rock style wrestler from the uk Joe accepts an invitation to hopes peak to further his wrestling dreams (Me-Protagonist)
Alfredo Desuza- Ultimate Cyclist- A Mexican Cycler considered to be one of the best extremely confident and competitive Alfredo is happy to train at hopes peak
Kabir Deshpande-Ultimate Cat Burgler- a calm and calculated master theif Kabir has stolen many rare gems in his heists in many Indian museums and gem collections he steals because it’s a revenge against his parents who were extremely rich but never cared for him
Raul Cavalcante- Ultimate arachnolgist- this Brazilian guy is a genius when it comes to spiders often keeping a live black widow in a specially designed container to show to people he loves spiders and finds them fascinating
Jamie Edwards- Ultimate Graffiti Artist- an Australian guy with a love of freedom Jamie caused a new art craze in Australia with his graffiti and he decided to roll with it getting more ambitious with his spray painting art style which includes aboriginal designs
Nathi Mabasso- Ultimate Pilot- An South African guy with a easy going laid back demeanour despite this he is a expert when it comes to aeronautics and flight patterns he attends hopes peak to fly high
Hassan Chatwal: Ultimate Horror novelist- an Ethiopian guy who when he was young he read Frankenstein by Mary Shelly inspired he began to write horror novels quickly reaching the top of the best seller charts in many countries he accepts a hopes peak invitation to further his writing career
Richard Reyes - Ultimate Crewman - A Filipino chap who can do just about any job on a ship, from fixing the engines, anchoring the vessel, catering, securing cargo... But he's always wanted a chance at the captain's seat. Maybe Hope's Peak will get him the respect he needs for that?
Girls
Mozu Hari- Ultimate Farmer-The shortest member of the crew Mozu is a hard working b it shy girl from Japan and has experience with all kinds of farm animals and equipment she attends hopes peak after they ensured her farm would only get better with their help
Ginevra Rizzo- Ultimate Golfer Ginevra born to a poor family who lives near the Royal Park Roveri Golf Club Ginevra entered a all young players Welcome competition to win the prize for her family turns out she had a natural talent for golf and decided to keep playing humble and always carryigg by a golf bag Ginevra attends hopes peak to further her golf skills
Natalie Lefevre- Ultimate Baker, A pretty and fun loving French Baker she keeps helping those in need with fresh baked goods filled with grapes and other fresh fruits she attends hopes peak to rise her baking talents
Alva Nilsson- Ultimate Harpist, a Swedish harp player she grew up in a very loud house full of heavy metal music so she often stayed at school and practiced playing the harp eventually her musical talents got wind and she was playing classical concerts in Stockholm where she was scouted by Hopes peak
Elise Hoebee-Ultimate Banker, A Dutch girl with a mind for mathematics and numbers Elise enjoys studying under her Uncle who runs a very successful Bank in the heart of Amsterdam
Maniko Nada- Ultimate Marine Biologist, a Chinese girl with a love of marine life and the science surrounding it she is extremely intelligent but socially awkward
Rosemary Tafalla- Utimate Daredevil- from skydiving to base jumping this Peruvian girl seeks out the most extreme things to do she is always looking for her next adventure
Nin Chaiket- Ultimate Museum Curator- Nia is a Thai girl fascinated by history and art and when she was young helped bring her local museum out of debt by helping bring in exciting new exhibits for this she got offered a part time job belong out now at hopes peak her dream is to open the greatest museum in the world
If you have any questions please feel free to ask

(all airtimes E.S.T.)
WED MAY 01
(1:15AM) The Children's Hour (1961/1h 47m/Drama/William Wyler)
(3:15AM) The Apartment (1960/2h 5m/Comedy/Billy Wilder)
(6:00AM) From the Earth to the Moon (1958/1h 40m/Science-Fiction/Byron Haskin)
(7:45AM) The Snow Devils (1965/1h 18m/HorroAntonio Margheriti)
(9:30AM) The Green Slime (1969/1h 30m/HorroKinji Fukasaku)
(11:15AM) Moon Zero Two (1969/1h 40m/Roy Ward Baker)
(1:15PM) Countdown (1968/1h 41m/Drama/Robert Altman)
(3:00PM) Toward the Unknown (1956/1h 55m/Drama/Mervyn Le Roy)
(5:00PM) Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959/1h 19m/HorroEdward D. Wood, Jr.)
(6:30PM) The Thing from Another World (1951/1h 27m/HorroChristian Nyby)
(8:00PM) Laura (1944/1h 28m/Film-NoiOtto Preminger)
(9:45PM) Rebecca (1940/1h 55m/Suspense/Alfred Hitchcock)
THU MAY 02
(12:15AM) Marnie (1964/2h 10m/Suspense/Alfred Hitchcock)
(2:45AM) Agatha (1979/1h 38m/Mystery/Michael Apted)
(4:30AM) Penelope (1966/1h 37m/Comedy/Arthur Hiller)
(6:30AM) The Angry Hills (1959/1h 45m/Suspense/Robert Aldrich)
(8:30AM) The Pride and the Passion (1957/2h 12m/Adventure/Stanley Kramer)
(11:00AM) Sweet November (1968/1h 54m/Romance/Robert Ellis Miller)
(1:00PM) My Fair Lady (1964/2h 50m/Musical/George Cukor)
(4:00PM) I Want To Live! (1958/2h 0m/Drama/Robert Wise)
(6:15PM) The Defiant Ones (1958/1h 37m/Drama/Stanley Kramer)
(8:00PM) No Greater Glory (1934/1h 57m/Drama/Frank Borzage)
(9:00PM) Man’s Castle (1933/1h 6m/Romance/Frank Borzage
(11:00PM) Secrets (1933/1h 30m/Western/Frank Borzage)
FRI MAY 03
(12:30AM) A Farewell to Arms (1932/1h 18m/Romance/Frank Borzage)
(2:15AM) Stranded (1935/1h 16m/Romance/Frank Borzage)
(3:30AM) **Desire (1963/1h 31m/Romance/Frank Borzage)
(5:15AM) The Circle (1925/1h 0m/Silent/Frank Borzage)
(6:30AM) The Half Naked Truth (1933/1h 7m/Comedy/Gregory La Cava)
(7:45AM) Texas Carnival (1951/1h 17m/Comedy/Charles Walters)
(9:15AM) Maisie Was a Lady (1941/1h 19m/Comedy/Edwin L. Marin)
(10:45AM) Flamingo Road (1949/1h 34m/Drama/Michael Curtiz)
(12:30PM) The Unholy Three (1930/1h 12m/Crime/Jack Conway)
(1:45PM) The Mind Reader (1933/1h 9m/Drama/DirectoRoy Del Ruth)
(3:00PM) Lili (1953/1h 21m/Musical/Charles Walters)
(4:30PM) The Wagons Roll At Night (1941/1h 24m/Drama/Ray Enright)
(6:00PM) Carnival Story (1954/1h 35m/Drama/Kurt Neumann)
(8:00PM) Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid (1982/1h 28m/Comedy/Carl Reiner)
(10:00PM) Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (1988/1h 50m/Comedy/Frank Oz)
SAT MAY 04
(12:00AM) Father of the Bride (1991/1h 45m/Comedy/Charles Shyer)
(2:00AM) Pennies From Heaven (1981/1h 47m/Musical/Herbert Ross)
(4:00AM) Robin and the 7 Hoods (1964/2h 3m/Musical/Gordon Douglas)
(6:15AM) Maya (1966/1h 31m/Adventure/John Berry)
(8:00AM) MGM CARTOONS: Grin and Share It (1957/0h 6m/Comedy/Michael Lah)
(8:07AM) Believe It or Not #10 (1932/0h 7m/Short/?)
(8:15AM) Glimpses of Peru (1937/0h 8m/Short/?)
(8:24AM) The Walking Dead (1936/1h 6m/HorroMichael Curtiz)
(9:30AM) Brush Roper (1955/0h 30mWestern/Stuart Heisler)
(10:00AM) POPEYE: Never Kick a Woman (1933/0h 6m/Animation/Dave Fleischer)
(10:07AM) The Falcon Takes Over (1942/1h 3m/Mystery/Irving Reis)
(11:30AM) Buzzin' Around (1933/0h 20m/Comedy/Alfred J. Goulding)
(12:00PM) Tonight and Every Night (1945/1h 32m/Musical/Victor Saville)
(1:45PM) Angels in the Outfield (1951/1h 42m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(3:45PM) The Liquidator (1966/1h 44m/Suspense/Jack Cardiff)
(5:45PM) Billy Budd (1962/1h 52m/Drama/Peter Ustinov)
(8:00PM) A Face in the Crowd (1957/2h 6m/Drama/Elia Kazan)
(10:15PM) Ace In The Hole (1951/1h 59m/Drama/Billy Wilder)
SUN MAY 05
(12:15AM) Dark Passage (1947/1h 46m/Film-NoiDelmer Daves)
(2:15AM) Yentl (1983/2h 14m/Musical/Barbra Streisand)
(4:30AM) Portnoy's Complaint (1972/1h 41m/Drama/Ernest Lehman)
(6:15AM) Harlan County, USA (1976/1h 43m/Documentary/Barbara Kopple)
(8:15AM) Black Fury (1935/1h 32m/Drama/Michael Curtiz)
(10:00AM) Dark Passage (1947/1h 46m/Film-NoiDelmer Daves)
(12:00PM) Random Harvest (1942/2h 4m/Romance/Mervyn Le Roy)
(2:30PM) Raintree County (1957/3h 7m/Drama/Edward Dmytryk)
(5:30PM) Gypsy (1962/2h 29m/Musical/Mervyn Le Roy)
(8:00PM) The Big Trail (1930/1h 50m/Western/Raoul Walsh)
(10:15PM) White Heat (1949/1h 54m/Crime/Raoul Walsh)
MON MAY 06
(12:15AM) The First Auto (1927/1h 15m/Silent/Roy Del Ruth)
(2:00AM) A River Called Titas (1973/2h 39m/Drama/Ritwik Ghatak)
(5:00AM) Busses Roar (1942/0h 58m/Drama/D. Ross Lederman)
(6:00AM) I Loved a Woman (1933/1h 30m/Drama/Alfred E. Green)
(7:45AM) The Keyhole (1933./1h 9m/Drama/Michael Curtiz)
(9:00AM) Age of Indiscretion (1935/1h 18m/Drama/Edward Ludwig)
(10:30AM) My Past (1931/1h 23m/Romance/Roy Del Ruth)
(11:45AM) Mannequin (1938/1h 35m/Romance/Lew Borzage)
(1:30PM) The Common Law (1932/1h 15m/Drama/Paul L. Stein)
(3:00PM) His Brother's Wife (1936/1h 30m/Romance/W. S. Van Dyke)
(4:30PM) Man On Fire (1957/1h 35m/Drama/Ranald Macdougall)
(6:15PM) One is a Lonely Number (1972/1h 37m/Drama/Mel Stuart)
(8:00PM) The Cheat (1915/0h42m/Silent/Cecil B. De Mille )
(9:15PM) The Dragon Painter (1919/0h 53m/Silent/William Worthington)
(10:15PM) The Tong Man (1919/0h 58m/Crime/William Worthington)
(11:30PM) Yellowface: Asian Whitewashing and Racism in Hollywood (2019/0h 54m/Documentary/Clara Kuperberg and Julia Kuperberg)
TUE MAY 07
(12:30AM) China Sky (1945/1h 18m/WaRay Enright)
(2:00AM) Sayonara (1957/2h 27m/Romance/Joshua Logan)
(6:00AM) Bed of Roses (1933/1h 7m/Drama/Gregory Lacava)
(7:15AM) Honeysuckle Rose (1980/1h 59m/Drama/Jerry Schatzberg)
(9:30AM) The Subject Was Roses (1968/1h 47m/Drama/Ulu Grosbard)
(11:30AM) The Blue Gardenia (1953/1h 30m/Suspense/Fritz Lang)
(1:00PM) Inside Daisy Clover (1965/2h 8m/Drama/Robert Mulligan)
(3:15PM) Brooklyn Orchid (1942/0h 50m/Comedy/Kurt Neumann)
(4:15PM) Brother Orchid (1940/1h 30m/Crime/Lloyd Bacon)
(6:00PM) Black Narcissus (1947/1h 39m/Drama/Michael Powell)
(8:00PM) North by Northwest (1959/2h 16m/Suspense/Alfred Hitchcock)
(10:30PM) A Matter of Life and Death (1947/1h 44m/Romance/Michael Powell)
WED MAY 08
(12:30AM) Forbidden Planet (1956/1h 38m/Science-Fiction/Fred Mcleod Wilcox)
(2:15AM) Citizen Kane (1941/1h 59m/Drama/Orson Welles)
(4:30AM) The Fountainhead (1949/1h 54m/Drama/King Vidor)
(6:30AM) The Shoes of the Fisherman (1968/2h 42m/Drama/Michael Anderson)
(9:30AM) Lone Star (1952/1h 34m/Western/Vincent Sherman)
(11:30AM) Rio Bravo (1959/2h 21m/Western/Howard Hawks)
(2:00PM) The Westerner (1940/1h 40m/Western/William Wyler)
(4:00PM) The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972/2h 0m/Western/John Huston)
(6:15PM) A Big Hand for the Little Lady (1966/1h 35m/Western/Fielder Cook)
TBD
THU MAY 09
(12:15AM) Spartacus (1960/3h 2m/Drama/Stanley Kubrick)
(3:45AM) Heidi (1937/1h 28m/Drama/Allan Dwan)
(5:30AM) Kim (1951/1h 53m/Adventure/Victor Saville)
(7:30AM) Dance, Fools, Dance (1931/1h 21m/Drama/Harry Beaumont)
(9:00AM) Possessed (1931/1h 12m/Romance/Clarence Brown)
(10:30AM) Laughing Sinners (1931/1h 11m/Romance/Harry Beaumont)
(11:45AM) Dancing Lady (1933/1h 22m/Musical/Robert Z. Leonard)
(1:30PM) Forsaking All Others (1934/1h 24m/Romance/W. S. Van Dyke)
(3:00PM) Chained (1934/1h 11m/Romance/Clarence Brown)
(4:30PM) Love on the Run (1936/1h 20m/Romance/W. S. Van Dyke)
(6:00PM) Boom Town (1940/1h 56m/Adventure/Jack Conway)
(8:00PM) History Is Made at Night (1937/1h 37m/Romance/Frank Borzage)
(10:00PM) Smilin' Through (1941/1h 40m/Romance/Frank Borzage)
FRI MAY 10
(12:00AM) Seven Sweethearts (1942/1h 38m/Musical/Frank Borzage)
(1:45AM) Flirtation Walk (1934/1h 37m/Musical/Frank Borzage)
(3:30AM) Shipmates Forever (1935/1h 49m/Musical/Frank Borzage)
(5:30AM) Hearts Divided (1936/1h 27m/Romance/Frank Borzage)
(7:00AM) No Other Woman (1933/0h 56m/Drama/J. Walter Ruben)
(8:00AM) Little Lord Fauntleroy (1936/1h 38m/Drama/John Cromwell)
(10:00AM) The Prisoner of Zenda (1937/1h 41m/Adventure/John Cromwell)
(12:00PM) Viva Villa! (1934/1h 55m/Western/Jack Conway)
(2:00PM) A Star Is Born (1937/1h 51m/Romance/William A. Wellman)
(4:00PM) Reckless (1935/1h 36m/Romance/Victor Fleming)
(5:45PM) A Tale of Two Cities (1935/2h/Drama/Jack Conway)
(8:00PM) Rebel Without a Cause (1955/1h 51m/Drama/Nicholas Ray)
(10:00PM) The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (1962/1h 44m/Drama/Tony Richardson)
SAT MAY 11
(12:00AM) Rumble Fish (1983/1h 34m/Action/Francis Ford Coppola)
(2:00AM) Wild Boys of the Road (1933/1h 17m/Drama/William A. Wellman(
(3:30AM) Crime School (1938/1h 26m/Drama/Lewis Seiler)
(5:00AM) Haunted Gold (1932/58m/Western/Mack V. Wright)
(6:00AM) Jungle Book (1942/1h 49m/Adventure/Zoltan Korda)
(8:00AM) MGM CARTOONS: Little Buck Cheeser (1937/0h 7m/Animation/Rudolf Ising)
(8:08AM) Believe It or Not #11 (1932/0h 7m/Documentary/?)
(8:16AM) India on Parade (1937/9m/Short/?)
(8:26AM) Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1958/1h 5m/HorroNathan Hertz)
(9:30AM) Tom and Jerry (1955/0h 30m/Drama/Leo McCarey)
(10:00AM) POPEYE: Little Swee' Pea (1936/0h 7m/Animation/Dave Fleischer)
(10:08AM) The Falcon's Brother (1942/1h 3m/Mystery/Stanley Logan)
(11:30AM) Forbidden Passage (1941/0h 20m/Short/Fred Zinnemann)
(12:00PM) Sweet Charity (1969/2h 29m/Musical/Bob Fosse)
(2:45PM) Point Blank (1967/1h 32m/Crime/John Boorman)
(4:30PM) Roadblock (1951/1h 13m/Film-NoiHarold Daniels)
(6:00PM) American Graffiti (1973/1h 49m/Comedy/George Lucas)
(8:00PM) The Fisher King (1991/2h 17m/Dramedy/Terry Gilliam)
(10:30PM) Synecdoche, New York (2008/2h 4m/Dramedy/Charlie Kaufman)
SUN MAY 12
(12:45AM) Follow Me Quietly (1949/0h 59m/Film-NoiRichard O. Fleischer)
(2:15AM) Murder, She Said (1961/1h 26m/Mystery/George Pollock)
(4:00AM) Murder at the Gallop (1963/1h 21m/Mystery/George Pollock)
(5:30AM) MGM Parade Show #11 (1955/0h 25m/Documentary/?)
(6:00AM) Three Daring Daughters (1948/1h 55m/Musical/Fred M. Wilcox)
(8:00AM) Please Don't Eat the Daisies (1960/1h 51m/Comedy/Charles Walters)
(10:00AM) Follow Me Quietly (1949/0h 59m/Film-NoiRichard O. Fleischer)
(11:15AM) So Big (1953/1h 41m/Romance/Robert Wise)
(1:15PM) Pocketful of Miracles (1961/2h 16m/Comedy/Frank Capra)
(3:45PM) Mildred Pierce (1945/1h 53m/Drama/Michael Curtiz)
(5:45PM) Imitation of Life (1959/2h 5m/Romance/Douglas Sirk)
TBD
(8:00PM) I Remember Mama (1948/2h 14m/Drama/George Stevens)
(10:30PM) Yours, Mine, and Ours (1968/1h 51m/Comedy/Melville Shavelson)
MON MAY 13
(12:30AM) The Merry Widow (1925/1h 51m/Silent/Erich Von Stroheim)
(3:00AM) Unknown Pleasures (2002/1h 52m/Comedy/Jia Zhang-ke)
(5:00AM) The World (2004/2h 19m/Adventure/Jia Zhang-ke)
(7:30AM) Night Flight (1933/1h 24m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(9:00AM) Sadie McKee (1934/1h 30m/Romance/Clarence Brown)
(10:45AM) Song of Love (1947/1h 59m/Western/Clarence Brown)
(12:45PM) Intruder in the Dust (1949/1h 29m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(2:15PM) White Cliffs Of Dover (1944/2h 6m/Romance/Clarence Brown)
(4:30PM) Edison, the Man (1940/1h 47m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(6:30PM) Wife Vs. Secretary (1936/1h 28m/Romance/Clarence Brown)
(8:00PM) Tokyo Joe (1949/1h 28m/Suspense/Stuart Heisler)
TBD
(11:45PM) Daughter of the Dragon (1931/1h 10m/Crime/Lloyd Corrigan)
TUE MAY 14
(1:00AM) Daughter of Shanghai (1937/1h 3m/Crime/Robert Florey)
(2:15AM) Escapade in Japan (1957/1h 33m/Adventure/Arthur Lubin)
(4:00AM) Bridge to the Sun (1961/1h 52m/Drama/Etienne Périer)
(6:00AM) Key Largo (1948/1h 41m/Crime/John Huston)
(8:00AM) Wind Across the Everglades (1958/1h 33m/Adventure/Nicholas Ray)
(9:45AM) Sweet Bird of Youth (1962/2h 0m/Drama/Richard Brooks)
(12:00PM) Bright Road (1953/1h 9m/Drama/Gerald Mayer)
(1:15PM) Good-Bye, My Lady (1956/1h 35m/Drama/William A. Wellman)
(3:00PM) Louisiana Story (1948/1h 17m/Documentary/Robert Flaherty)
(4:30PM) Cry of the Hunted (1953/1h 20m/Drama/Joseph H. Lewis)
(6:00PM) The Drowning Pool (1975/1h 46m/Mystery/Stuart Rosenberg)
(8:00PM) Rancho Notorious (1952/1h 29m/Western/Fritz Lang)
(9:45PM) Beach Party (1963/1h 41m/Musical/William Asher)
(11:30PM) Breathless (1983/1h 40m/Drama/Jim McBride)
WED MAY 15
(1:30AM) Two Weeks in Another Town (1962/1h 47m/Drama/Vincente Minnelli)
(3:30AM) Querelle (1982/1h 48m/Drama/Rainer Werner Fassbinder)
(5:30AM) The Boy Friend (1971/1h 48m/Musical/Ken Russell)
(7:30AM) Design for Scandal (1941/1h 25m/Romance/Norman Taurog)
(9:00AM) Live, Love and Learn (1937/1h 18m/Comedy/Geo. Fitzmaurice)
(10:30AM) The Kid from Kokomo (1939/1h 35m/Comedy/Lewis Seiler)
(12:15PM) Tender Comrade (1943/1h 42m/Drama/Edward Dmytryk)
(2:15PM) A Guy Named Joe (1943/2h 0m/Romance/Victor Fleming)
(4:30PM) We Who Are Young (1940/1h 19m/Romance/Harold S. Bucquet)
(6:00PM) Our Vines Have Tender Grapes (1945/1h 45m/Drama/Roy Rowland)
(8:00PM) Gigi (1958/1h 56m/Musical/Vincente Minnelli)
(10:15PM) Lili (1953/1h 21m/Musical/Charles Walters)
THU MAY 16
(12:00AM) Oliver! (1968/2h 33m/Musical/Carol Reed)
(2:45AM) Roberta (1935/1h 25m/Musical/William A. Seiter)
(4:45AM) Mame (1974/2h 12m/Musical/Gene Saks)
(7:15AM) The Pitfall (1948/1h 24m/Film-NoiAndre De Toth)
(9:00AM) The Set-Up (1949/1h 12m/Drama/Robert Wise)
(10:15AM) The Maltese Falcon (1941/1h 40m/Mystery/John Huston)
(12:00PM) Lady in the Lake (1947/1h 43m/Mystery/Robert Montgomery)
(2:00PM) They Live by Night (1948/1h 35m/Crime/Nicholas Ray)
(4:00PM) The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946/1h 56m/Film-NoiLewis Milestone)
(6:00PM) The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946/1h 51m/Film-NoiTay Garnett)
(8:00PM) The Mortal Storm (1940/1h 40m/Drama/Frank Borzage)
(10:00PM) Three Comrades (1938/1h 40m/Romance/Frank Borzage)
FRI MAY 17
(12:00AM) Flight Command (1940/1h 50m/Adventure/Frank Borzage)
(2:15AM) The Spanish Main (1945/1h 40m/Adventure/Frank Borzage)
(4:15AM) Strange Cargo (1940/1h 45m/Drama/Frank Borzage)
(6:15AM) The Shining Hour (1938/1h 20m/Drama/Frank Borzage)
(7:45AM) One of Our Spies Is Missing (1966/1h 0m/Adventure/E. Darrell Hallenbeck)
(9:30AM) Where the Spies Are (1965/1h 53m/Comedy/Val Guest)
(11:30AM) The Prize (1963/2h 16m/Mystery/Mark Robson)
(2:00PM) The Venetian Affair (1967/1h 32m//Mystery/Jerry Thorpe)
(3:45PM) How to Steal the World (1968/1h 26m/Adventure/Sutton Roley)
(5:15PM) 36 Hours (1964/1h 55m/WaGeorge Seaton)
(7:15PM) MGM Parade Show #11 (1955/0h 25m/Documentary/?)
TBD
(11:30PM) The Murder of Mary Phagan (1988/2h 30m/Drama/?)
SAT MAY 18
TBD
(4:00AM) Freedom on My Mind (19941h 45m/Documentary/Connie Field)
(6:00AM) Gunga Din (1939/1h 57m/Adventure/George Stevens)
(8:00AM) MGM CARTOONS: Old Smokey (1938/0h 7m/Animation/William Hanna)
(8:08AM) Believe It or Not #12 (1932/0h 8m/Documentary/?)
(8:17AM) Natural Wonders of the West (1938/0h 8m/Documentary/James H Smith)
(8:27AM) Devil's Island (1940/1h 2m/Drama/William Clemens)
(9:30AM) Rookie Of The Year (1955/Comedy/John Ford)
(10:00AM) POPEYE: Hold the Wire (1933/0h 6m/Animation/Dave Fleisher)
(10:07AM) Falcon in Danger (1943/1h 13m/Mystery/William Clemens)
(11:30AM) The Song of Fame (1934/0h 21m/Short/Joseph Henabery)
(12:00PM) The Great Ziegfeld (1936/3h 0m/Musical/Robert Z. Leonard)
(3:15PM) The FBI Story (1959/2h 29m/Crime/Mervyn Le Roy)
(6:00PM) Cahill, U.S. Marshal (1973/1h 43m/Western/Andrew V. McLaglen)
(8:00PM) Jailhouse Rock (1957/1h 36m/Musical/Richard Thorpe)
(10:00PM) Forty Guns (1957/1h 18m/Western/Samuel Fuller)
SUN MAY 19
(12:00AM) Take Aim at the Police Van (1960/1h 19m/Film-NoiSeijun Suzuki)
(1:45AM) The Cowboys (1972/8m/Western/Mark Rydell)
(4:00AM) Chisum (1970/1h 50m/Western/Andrew V. McLaglen)
(6:00AM) Behind Office Doors (1931/1h 26m/Drama/Melville Brown)
(7:30AM) The Boss Didn't Say Good Morning (1937/10m/Short/Jacques Tourneur)
(8:00AM) Executive Suite (1954/1h 44m/Drama/Robert Wise)
(10:00AM) Take Aim at the Police Van (1960/1h 19m/Film-NoiSeijun Suzuki)
(11:45AM) The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone (1961/1h 44m/Drama/José Quintero)
(1:45PM) Sex and the Single Girl (1964/1h 54m/Comedy/Richard Quine)
(3:45PM) Adam's Rib (1949/1h 41m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(5:45PM) Some Like It Hot (1959/2h 0m/Comedy/Billy Wilder)
(8:00PM) The Muppets Take Manhattan (1984/1h 34m/Musical/Frank Oz)
(10:00PM) Little Shop of Horrors (1986/1h 28m/Musical/Frank Oz)
MON MAY 20
(12:00AM) The Kiss (1929/50m/Silent/Jacques Feyder)
(12:50AM) Love (1927/1h 22m/Silent/Edmund Goulding)
(2:30AM) No End (1985/1h 44m/Drama/Krzysztof Kieslowski)
(4:30AM) Blind Chance (1981/2h 2m/Drama/Krzysztof Kieslowski)
(6:45AM) Athena (1954/1h 36m/Musical/Richard Thorpe)
(8:30AM) The Last Days of Pompeii (1935/1h 36m/Drama/Ernest B. Schoedsack)
(10:15AM) The Slave (1962/1h 32m/Adventure/Sergio Corbucci)
(12:15PM) Land of the Pharaohs (1955/1h 46m/Adventure/Howard Hawks)
(2:15PM) The Silver Chalice (1954/2h 24m/Drama//Victor Saville)
(4:45PM) Quo Vadis (1951/2h 51m/Drama/Mervyn Le Roy)
(8:00PM) House of Bamboo (1955/1h 42m/Crime/Samuel Fuller
(10:00PM) Green Mansions (1959/1h 44m/Romance/Mel Ferrer)
TUE MAY 21
(12:00AM) Hell to Eternity (1960/2h 12m/WaPhil Karlson)
(2:30AM) Grand Prix (1966/2h 59m/Adventure/John Frankenheimer)
(6:00AM) Mr. Chump (1938/1h 1m/Comedy/William Clemens)
(7:15AM) Mr. Hex (1946/1h 3m/Comedy/William Beaudine)
(8:30AM) Mr. Dodd Takes the Air (1937/1h 26m/Musical/Alfred E. Green)
(10:00AM) Mr. Doodle Kicks Off (1938/1h 17m/Comedy/Leslie Goodwins)
(11:30AM) Mr. Imperium (1951/1h 27m/Romance/Don Hartman)
(1:00PM) Mr. And Mrs. North (1941/1h 7m/Mystery/Robert B. Sinclair)
(2:15PM) Mr. Skeffington (1945/2h 7m/Drama/Vincent Sherman)
(4:45PM) Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948/1h 34m/Comedy/H. C. Potter)
(6:30PM) Mister Cinderella (1936/1h 15m/Comedy/Edward Sedgwick)
(8:00PM) The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953/1h 28m/Musical/Roy Rowland)
(9:45PM) The Red Shoes (1948/2h 14m/Romance/Michael Powell)
WED MAY 22
(12:15AM) Donkey Skin (1970/1h 30m/Drama/Jacques Demy)
(2:00AM) The Glass Slipper (1955/1h 34m/Musical/Charles Walters)
(3:45AM) Brigadoon (19541h 48m/Musical/Vincente Minnelli)
(5:45AM) Thief of Bagdad (1940/1h 46m/Adventure/Ludwig Berger)
(7:45AM) Lord of the Flies (1963/1h 30m/Drama/Peter Brook)
(9:30AM) Tunes of Glory (1960/1h 45m/WaRonald Neame)
(11:30AM) Tom Jones (1963/2h 11m/Comedy/Tony Richardson)
(1:45PM) The Lady Vanishes (1938/1h 37m/Suspense/Alfred Hitchcock)
(3:30PM) Oliver Twist (1948/1h 56m/Drama/David Lean)
(5:30PM) Sense and Sensibility (1995/2h 15m/Romance/Ang Lee)
(8:00PM) Marty (1955/1h 31m/Romance/Delbert Mann)
(9:45PM) Harvey (1950/1h 44m/Comedy/Henry Koster)
THU MAY 23
(12:00PM) Alice (1990/1h 25m/Comedy/Woody Allen)
(2:00AM) Tommy (1975/1h 51m/Musical/Ken Russell)
(4:00AMP Lenny (1974/1h 51/Drama/Ken Russell)
(6:00AM) Marriage on the Rocks (1965/1h 49m/Comedy/Jack Donohue)
(8:00AM) The Tender Trap (1955/1h 51m/Comedy/Charles Walters)
(10:00AM) Big City (1948/1h 43m/Crime/Norman Taurog)
(12:00PM) Neptune's Daughter (1949/1h 33m/Musical/Edward Buzzell)
(2:00PM) On the Town (1949/1h 38m/Musical/Gene Kelly)
(4:00PM) Take Me Out to the Ball Game (1949/1h 33m/Musical/Busby Berkeley)
(5:45PM) Words and Music (1948/1h 59m/Musical/Norman Taurog)
(8:00PM) How Green Was My Valley (1941/1h 58m/Drama/John Ford)
(10:15PM) Seven Samurai (1956/2h 40m/Drama/Akira Kurosawa)
TBD
(10:45PM) In the Name of the Father (1993/2h 7m/Biography/Terry George)
FRI MAY 24
(2:00AM) The Battle of Algiers (1966/2h 0h/WaGillo Pontecorvo)
(3:15AM) Lust for Life (1956/2h 2m/Drama/Vincente Minnelli)
(5:30AM) MGM Parade Show #11 (1955/0h 25m/Documentary/?)
(6:00AM) A Day at the Races (1937/1h 45m/Comedy/Sam Wood)
(8:00AM) I Love You Again (1940/1h 39m/Comedy/W. S. Van Dyke II)
(10:00AM) The Loved One (1965/1h 56m/Comedy/Tony Richardson)
(12:15PM) The Awful Truth (1937/1h 30m/Comedy/Leo McCarey)
(2:00PM) No Time For Sergeants (1958/1h 59m/Comedy/Mervyn Le Roy)
(4:15PM) The Sunshine Boys (1975/1h 51m/Comedy/Herbert Ross)
(6:15PM) The Producers (1967/1h 28m/Comedy/Mel Brooks)
(8:00PM) The Caine Mutiny (1954/2h 5m/Drama/Edward Dmytryk)
(10:15PM) Platoon (1986/2h 0m/WaOliver Stone)
SAT MAY 25
(12:30AM) Men in War (1957/1h 44m/WaAnthony Mann)
(2:15\AM) The Steel Helmet (1951/1h 24m/WaSamuel Fuller)
(4:00AM) Go for Broke! (1951/1h 32m/WaRobert Pirosh)
(5:45AM) The Human Comedy (1943/1h 58m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(7:45AM) Merrill's Marauders (1962/1h 38m/WaSamuel Fuller)
(9:30AM) They Were Expendable (1945/2h 15m/WaJohn Ford)
(12:00PM) Thank Your Lucky Stars (1943/2h 7m/Musical/David Butler)
(2:15PM) Onionhead (1958/1h 50m/Comedy/Norman Taurog)
(4:15PM) The Story of G. I. Joe (1945/1h 49m/WaWilliam A. Wellman)
(6:15PM) A Farewell to Arms (1932/1h 18m/Romance/Frank Borzage)
(8:00PM) Attack (1956/1h 47m/WaRobert Aldrich)
(10:00PM) Captains of the Clouds (1942/1h 53m/WaMichael Curtiz)
SUN MAY 26
(12:00AM) Bad for Each Other (1954/1h 23m/Film-NoiIrving Rapper)
(1:45AM) Men Of The Fighting Lady (1954/1h 20m/WaAndrew Marton)
(3:15AM) The Red Badge Of Courage (1951/1h 9m/Drama/John Huston)
(4:45AM) Wings For The Eagle (1942/1h 23m/WaLloyd Bacon)
(6:15AM) The Fighting 69th (1940/1h 30m/WaWilliam Keighley)
(7:45AM) Mister Roberts (1955/2h 3m/Comedy/John Ford)
(10:00AM) Bad for Each Other (1954/1h 23m/Film-NoiIrving Rapper)
(11:45AM) The Naked and the Dead (1958/2h 11m/WaRaoul Walsh)
(2:15PM) The Dirty Dozen (1967/2h 29m/WaRobert Aldrich)
(5:00PM) The Great Escape (1963/2h 48m/WaJohn Sturges)
(8:00PM) The Memphis Belle: A Story of a Flying Fortress (1944/40m/Documentary/Lt. Col. William Wyler)
(9:00PM) The Cold Blue (2018/1h 41m/Documentary/Erik Nelson)
(11:00PM) The Best Years Of Our Lives (1946/2h 52m/Drama/William Wyler)
MON MAY 27
(2:00AM) The Flying Fleet (1929/1h 27m/Silent/George Hill)
(2:15AM) The Flying Fleet (1929/1h 27m/Silent/George Hill)
(3:45AM) The Burmese Harp (1956/1h 56m/WaKon Ichikawa)
(4:00AM) The Burmese Harp (1956/1h 56m/WaKon Ichikawa)
(6:00AM) The Cranes Are Flying (1957/1h 34m/Romance/Mikhail Kalatozov)
(7:45AM) Appointment in Tokyo (1946/0h 55m/Documentary/Maj. Jack Hively)
(8:45AM) The McConnell Story (1955/1h 47m/Drama/Gordon Douglas)
(10:45AM) War Nurse (1930/1h 20m/WaEdgar Selwyn)
(12:15PM) Cry 'Havoc' (1944/1h 37m/WaRichard Thorpe)
(2:00PM) Bataan (1943/1h 54m/WaTay Garnett)
(4:00PM) The Rack (1956/1h 40m/Drama/Arnold Laven)
(5:45PM) Darby's Rangers (1958/2h 1m/WaWilliam A. Wellman)
(8:00PM) Three Came Home (1950/1h 46m/WaJean Negulesco)
(10:00PM) The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957/2h 41m/Drama/David Lean)
TUE MAY 28
(2:00AM) Assignment in Brittany (1943/1h 36m/Drama/Jack Conway)
(3:45AM) Sergeant York (1941/2h 14m/WaHoward Hawks)
(6:15AM) Mummy's Boys (1936/1h 8m/Comedy/Fred Guiol)
(7:30AM) My Demon Lover (1987/1h 27m/Comedy/Ted G, Vujovich)
(9:00AM) The Smiling Ghost (1941/1h 11m/Suspense/Lewis Seiler)
(10:30AM) Singapore Woman (1941/1h 4m/Drama/Jean Negulesco)
(11:45AM) The Reptile (1966/1h 30m/HorroJohn Gilling)
(1:30PM) Death Curse of Tartu (1966/HorroWilliam Grefé)
(3:00PM) Curse of the Demon (1958/1h 35m/HorroJacques Tourneur)
(4:30PM) The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb (1964/1h 21m/HorroMichael Carreras)
(6:00PM) Sphinx (1981/1h 58m/Adventure/Franklin J. Schaffner)
(8:00PM) Jason And The Argonauts (1963/1h 44m/Adventure/Don Chaffey)
(10:00PM) King Kong (1933/1h 40m/HorroMerian C. Cooper)
WED MAY 29
(12:00AM) Metropolis (1926/2h 23m/Silent/Fritz Lang)
(2:45AM) Modern Times (1936/1h 27m/Silent/Charlie Chaplin)
(4:15AM) Eraserhead (1977/1h 40m/HorroDavid Lynch)
(6:00AM) Beauty and the Beast (1946.1h 35m/Romance/Jean Cocteau)
(7:45AM) The Merry Widow (1934/1h 39m/Musical/Ernst Lubitsch)
(9:30AM) The Red Danube (1949/1h 59m/Drama/George Sidney)
(11:45AM) Conquest (1937/1h 52m/Romance/Clarence Brown)
(1:45PM) National Velvet (1944/2h 5m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(4:00PM) Invitation to the Dance (1956/1h 33m/Musical/Gene Kelly)
(5:45PM) The Sea of Grass (1947/2h 11m/Drama//Elia Kazan)
(10:00PM) Ninotchka (1939/1h 50m/Comedy/Ernst Lubitsch)
THU MAY 30
(12:00AM) Camille (1937/1h 48m/Romance/George Cukor)
(2:00AM) Suzy (1936/1h 39m/Drama/Geo. Fitzmaurice)
(3:45AM) Marius (1931/2h 5m/Comedy/Alexandre Korda)
(6:00AM) British Agent (1934/1h 21m/Suspense/Michael Curtiz)
(7:30AM) Crossroads (1942/1h 24m/Suspense/Jack Conway)
(9:00AM) Mission to Moscow (1943/2h 3m/Drama/Michael Curtiz)
(11:15AM) Princess O'Rourke (1943/1h 34m/Comedy/Norman Krasna)
(1:00PM) A Majority of One (1961/2h 33m/Comedy/Mervyn Le Roy)
(3:30PM) The Notorious Landlady (1962/2h 3m/Comedy/Richard Quine)
(5:45PM) The Ugly American (1963/2h 0h/Drama/George Englund)
(8:00PM) The Front Page (1974/1h 45m/Comedy/Billy Wilder)
(10:00PM) The Front Page (1931/1h 41m/Comedy/Lewis Milestone)
FRI MAY 31
TBD

“Get the fuck out of my house with this ‘ old country’ shit Sylvia, I’m serious. “ I hear my dad say from the kitchen downstairs.
“I give children and idiots three warnings. That’s your first. “ It takes me a second to recognize my aunt’s voice. I’ve only met her a handful of times, and it’s nearly 2am.
“Syl, he’s right, this is crazy. I’m Roma, I’m proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. “ My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and I’m fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
“So you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesn’t mean the other side ignores you. “ Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
“Might as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolas’ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you don’t need him. “ Mom isn’t pleading, but I can hear she’s worried.
“Why are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. “ My dad isn’t worried, he’s angry.
“That’s two. “ Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
“That’s three. “ Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like he’s trying to talk but can’t. My heart starts to race, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know it’s bad.
“Syl! Jesus Christ, that’s my husband. “ Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
“Happy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. He’s 16, he has a license, yes? “ I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
“No, he’s not interested in driving. You can’t take him Syl. “ my mom sounds frantic, Sylvia’s steps are measured and heavy.
“Not interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. “ Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didn’t just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that I’m awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driver’s seat, she’s 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, it’s, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
“Any chance of putting both hands on the wheel? “ I say, I’m mad, but I don’t even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and I’m shocked. It’s an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
“Go through too many steering wheels that way. “ She says with a smirk.
“What’s going on? “ I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
“You’re a big boy, so if you want the truth, I’ll give it to you. There’s a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because you’re strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because you’re unknown, and, little one, disposable. “ Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this woman’s energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, “You have to put that out! “ as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor I’ve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
I’m stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe she’s some kind of, I don’t know, mobster or something.
But that isn’t quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. It’s like no one notices what she’s doing.
“How does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I don’t come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. “ Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, “You’ll see when we get there. “.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the world’s oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says “ Gritt Auctions” the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
“They’re family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. “ She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my mom’s family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
“When do I get to know what’s going on? “ I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. I’d say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
“Don’t whine. You’ve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robert’s attitude, rejected by your family.
I don’t want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? “ Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
“No… “ I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I don’t even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
“Next one’s with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? “ Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation I’m in.
“Answer is still no. Because to be angry, I’d have to know a God-Damned thing about what’s going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now I’m standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, I’m your new King. So no, I’m not angry, I’m annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. “ I’m shocked at what I’m saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylvia’s face seems to soften slightly.
“There’s the Gritt in you. “ She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise it’s half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
“Before I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. “
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see it’s made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
“You’re not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. I’ll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. “ The thing says, it’s voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
“ 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? “ Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps it’s jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
“If I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, I’d be a huge fan. “ I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, “And if anything feels like just telling me what’s going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. “
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
“Augustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets what’s coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. “ Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
“If your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. “ She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
“You’re going to have to turn around sometime kid. “ The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
“Holy shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you don’t even get it. I can see what you’re thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out… “ Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I don’t have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as it’s clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I’ve slept, but I’m brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize it’s been at least a day since I’ve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family I’ve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like I’m a used car.
“I’m always right soft boy. Remember that. “ She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes “Faron’s Funhouse. “
It’s a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but there’s a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen ‘cousins’ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, it’s mismatched eyes rolling in it’s skull.
I don’t hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
“Eyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where you’re going. “ Are her only instructions.
For once, they’re clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and I’m equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what you’d think. I know you’re all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. It’s a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. It’s obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but it’s nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, I’m shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, I’m standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, I’ve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell let’s throw Pokemon and the like in there as it’s basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman I’ve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as I’m locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
“Just hit ya didn’t it, bud? “ He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, “You’re not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly aren’t my fucking partner. “, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, “ You’re a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. “
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
“If I’ve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. “ The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snail’s foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. It’s face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, he’s big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kid’s right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didn’t set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
“Man after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. “ Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
“Don’t be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of us“ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
“You have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. “ Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
“Was that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. “ He’s panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesn’t feel like watching a fight, it’s more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
I’m running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but I’m determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, it’s ugly, it’s not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
“We have to win. “ he says, lunging at me with the blade.
He’s slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as I’d like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad I’m hurt, but it doesn’t really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I can’t escape.
It's a stalemate, I’m no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but he’s missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. I’m thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I can’t get any leverage. It’s not a stalemate, it’s a war of attrition that I’m losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, he’s too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesn’t matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someone’s life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
I’m frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, “We’ve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. “ he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
“How’s it feel to be a child killer, bud? “, Augustus laughs, “Not that I can’t tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didn’t it? “
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
“I can’t let that go to waste, now can I? “ he slaps me lightly, “It’s going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point I’m going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? “
Of course, I made it out alive. It’d be kind of hard to have posted this if I didn’t.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I’ll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. I’m in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.

“Get the fuck out of my house with this ‘ old country’ shit Sylvia, I’m serious. “ I hear my dad say from the kitchen downstairs.
“I give children and idiots three warnings. That’s your first. “ It takes me a second to recognize my aunt’s voice. I’ve only met her a handful of times, and it’s nearly 2am.
“Syl, he’s right, this is crazy. I’m Roma, I’m proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. “ My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and I’m fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
“So you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesn’t mean the other side ignores you. “ Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
“Might as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolas’ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you don’t need him. “ Mom isn’t pleading, but I can hear she’s worried.
“Why are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. “ My dad isn’t worried, he’s angry.
“That’s two. “ Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
“That’s three. “ Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like he’s trying to talk but can’t. My heart starts to race, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know it’s bad.
“Syl! Jesus Christ, that’s my husband. “ Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
“Happy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. He’s 16, he has a license, yes? “ I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
“No, he’s not interested in driving. You can’t take him Syl. “ my mom sounds frantic, Sylvia’s steps are measured and heavy.
“Not interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. “ Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didn’t just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that I’m awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driver’s seat, she’s 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, it’s, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
“Any chance of putting both hands on the wheel? “ I say, I’m mad, but I don’t even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and I’m shocked. It’s an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
“Go through too many steering wheels that way. “ She says with a smirk.
“What’s going on? “ I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
“You’re a big boy, so if you want the truth, I’ll give it to you. There’s a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because you’re strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because you’re unknown, and, little one, disposable. “ Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this woman’s energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, “You have to put that out! “ as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor I’ve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
I’m stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe she’s some kind of, I don’t know, mobster or something.
But that isn’t quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. It’s like no one notices what she’s doing.
“How does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I don’t come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. “ Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, “You’ll see when we get there. “.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the world’s oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says “ Gritt Auctions” the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
“They’re family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. “ She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my mom’s family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
“When do I get to know what’s going on? “ I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. I’d say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
“Don’t whine. You’ve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robert’s attitude, rejected by your family.
I don’t want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? “ Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
“No… “ I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I don’t even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
“Next one’s with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? “ Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation I’m in.
“Answer is still no. Because to be angry, I’d have to know a God-Damned thing about what’s going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now I’m standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, I’m your new King. So no, I’m not angry, I’m annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. “ I’m shocked at what I’m saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylvia’s face seems to soften slightly.
“There’s the Gritt in you. “ She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise it’s half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
“Before I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. “
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see it’s made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
“You’re not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. I’ll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. “ The thing says, it’s voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
“ 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? “ Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps it’s jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
“If I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, I’d be a huge fan. “ I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, “And if anything feels like just telling me what’s going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. “
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
“Augustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets what’s coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. “ Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
“If your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. “ She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
“You’re going to have to turn around sometime kid. “ The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
“Holy shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you don’t even get it. I can see what you’re thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out… “ Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I don’t have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as it’s clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I’ve slept, but I’m brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize it’s been at least a day since I’ve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family I’ve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like I’m a used car.
“I’m always right soft boy. Remember that. “ She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes “Faron’s Funhouse. “
It’s a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but there’s a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen ‘cousins’ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, it’s mismatched eyes rolling in it’s skull.
I don’t hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
“Eyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where you’re going. “ Are her only instructions.
For once, they’re clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and I’m equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what you’d think. I know you’re all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. It’s a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. It’s obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but it’s nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, I’m shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, I’m standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, I’ve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell let’s throw Pokemon and the like in there as it’s basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman I’ve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as I’m locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
“Just hit ya didn’t it, bud? “ He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, “You’re not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly aren’t my fucking partner. “, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, “ You’re a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. “
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
“If I’ve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. “ The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snail’s foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. It’s face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, he’s big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kid’s right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didn’t set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
“Man after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. “ Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
“Don’t be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of us“ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
“You have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. “ Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
“Was that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. “ He’s panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesn’t feel like watching a fight, it’s more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
I’m running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but I’m determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, it’s ugly, it’s not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
“We have to win. “ he says, lunging at me with the blade.
He’s slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as I’d like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad I’m hurt, but it doesn’t really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I can’t escape.
It's a stalemate, I’m no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but he’s missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. I’m thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I can’t get any leverage. It’s not a stalemate, it’s a war of attrition that I’m losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, he’s too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesn’t matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someone’s life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
I’m frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, “We’ve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. “ he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
“How’s it feel to be a child killer, bud? “, Augustus laughs, “Not that I can’t tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didn’t it? “
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
“I can’t let that go to waste, now can I? “ he slaps me lightly, “It’s going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point I’m going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? “
Of course, I made it out alive. It’d be kind of hard to have posted this if I didn’t.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I’ll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. I’m in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.

Sidenote: my native language is not English. Therefore this rant will be written in very bad English and I am aware of that. Be warned lol.
Anyone who has ever researched Egyptian mythology will have heard the claim that there are two different deities with the name Horus: Horus the Elder and Horus the Younger. One is said to be the son of Geb and Nut and the other of Osiris and Isis. This is a misconception that arose from the records of the Greek Plutarch, who wrote for his Greek audience and simplified some of the more complex concepts of Egyptian mythology. The reason why this misconception has persisted for so long is because the Egyptian language was indecipherable for a long time and let's face it, for a long time we had a very Eurocentric view of the world and gave more attention to the records of a Greek than to the actual sources. Plutarch even claimed that there were three different gods with the name Horus: Haroeris , Horus, and Harpocrates. The truth is that all these are aspects of the same god and a clear separation between Horus the Elder and Horus the Younger isn't possible because most aspects of the God Horus are neither one nor the other nor can they be thought independently of Horus. I will briefly summarize what Plutarch claimed about these three forms:
Arueris/Haroeris/Horus-WeHorus-Ur or “Horus the Elder”: The son of Cronus and Rhea (Geb and Nut) and brother of Osiris, Seth, Nephthys, and Isis. He is said to be the same god as Apollo. Plutarch mentions a tradition in which the five gods are only half-siblings: Osiris and Arueris were fathered by Re, Nephthys and Seth by “Cronus” (Geb), and Isis by “Hermes” (Thoth). He also mentions a tradition in which Arueris is the son of Isis and Osiris, who was conceived while still in the womb of Nut. The three brothers also had different skin colors: Seth red, Horus white and Osiris black. The birth of Apollo from Isis and Osiris, while these gods were still in the womb of Rhea, has the allegorical meaning that "before this world was made visible and its coarse material was fully formed by reason, it was put to the test by nature and brought forth the first creation imperfectly from itself. Therefore they say that this god was born in darkness as a cripple, and they call him the elder Horus; for at that time there was no world, but only an image and outline of a future world" ( direct quote of Plutarch)
Here we can already see that the separation between Horus the Elder as the son of Geb and Nut and Horus the Younger as the son of Isis and Osiris is more complicated. Plutarch himself often does not even differentiate between the two/three forms and uses the name Horus interchangeably without differentiating “which” Horus he is referring to
Horus “the Younger": According to Plutarch, son of Isis and Osiris, who was explicitly conceived before the dismemberment of Osiris's body. He is also the Horus who is said to have avenged the murder of Osiris by going to war against Seth. Osiris was the flood of the Nile and Isis was the earth and from this union, he was born and raised by Leto. "Horus,​ whom Isis brings forth, beholden of all, as the image of the perceptible world. Therefore it is said that he is brought to trial by Typhon on the charge of illegitimacy, as not being pure nor uncontaminated like his father, reason unalloyed and unaffected of itself, but contaminated in his substance because of the corporeal element. He prevails, however, and wins the case when Hermes,​ that is to say Reason, testifies and points out that Nature, by undergoing changes of form with reference to the perceptible, duly brings about the creation of the world. But this Horus is himself perfected and complete, but he has not done away completely with Typhon, but has taken away his activity and strength. Hence they say that at Kopto the statue of Horus holds in one hand the privy members of Typhon, and they relate a legend that Hermes cut out the sinews of Typhon, and used them as strings for his lyre, Dthereby instructing us that Reason adjusts the Universe and creates concord out of discordant elements, and that it does not destroy but only cripples the destructive force. Hence this is weak and inactive here, and combines with the susceptible and changeable elements and attaches itself to them, becoming the artificer of quakes and tremblings in the earth, and of droughts and tempestuous winds in the air, and of lightning-flashes and thunderbolts." (direct qute of Plutarch)
Hapocrates/Horus-pa-chered or Horus-the-child: According to Plutarch, he is the Horus who was conceived after Isis reassembled the pieces of the corpse of Osiris. He came into the world paralyzed . This is an interesting distinction: according to Plutarch, the Horus who was conceived after the death of Osiris and with whom Isis hid is not the same Horus who later fought against Seth.
Hapocrates and Haroeris are the Hellenistic names for two forms of Horus: Haroeris for Horus-Wer and Hapocrates for Horus-pa-chered. Some sources on the internet claim that Hor-Wer is the literal translation of Horus the Elder, although it translates more into Horus the Great or Eldar Horus. At the same time, many sites, including Wikipedia, claim that Horus-pa-chered means "Horus the Younger", which is incorrect. “Pa-chered” means “the child”. Apart from that, Horus-pa-chered is the Egyptian version of Hapocrates. A form of Horus, which Plutarch differentiates from Horus "the Younger", the enemy of Seth. Horus-Wer is a partial aspect of Horus that gained particular popularity in the New Kingdom and the Greek era, which is why Plutarch specifically mentions this form of Horus. Some Academic sources such as “Das ägyptische Wörterbuch” by Henning, “Das Reallexikon” by Bonnet and “Lexikon der ägyptischen Götter und ägyptische Götterbezeichnungen” claim this certain form of Horus did not exist until the middle kingdom and was made in order to deliberately distinguish the cult of Horus from the cult of Osiris. However, Federico Contardi claims that Haroeris may have been mentioned by name in the Pyramid Texts (116a). He questions whether the words Hr and Wr form one word (and thus the name Horus-Wer) or whether Wr is already part of the next sentence. This passage in question, however, is about the opening of the mouth ceremony that Horus performs on his father Osiris, which would mean that the form Haroeris was also occasionally merged with the Osiris cult and was not, as assumed, a form of Horus, separated from the Osiris cult.
It is important to understand that the deities Horus and Seth originated independently and only later merged with the cult of Osiris. They are pre-dynastic deities who became part of the Osiris myth during the early period of the Old Kingdom and became inseparably connected to it in the later half of the New kingdom, This is why some myths and traditions explicitly refer to the two gods as brothers and do not mention any relationship to Osiris, such as in the myth of Horus of Behutet and the winged disk. There were religious circles that worshipped Horus as their main god and creator of the universe even before Ra or Osiris. If we have a look at the first versions of the Osiris myth in the Pyramid Texts, we will find many similarities to the newer, more well-known versions: Osiris, Isis, Seth, and Nephthys are siblings, Osiris inherits the throne of the gods after Geb, Seth kills Osiris because he kicked him, Seth cuts the body of Osiris into pieces, Isis reassembles him, Isis begets Horus, Horus revives Osiris, Horus fights Seth, Horus and Seth have sex (yes, this is actually one of the oldest surviving episodes of the Osiris myth), Seth and Horus tear off body parts from each other and Horus becomes king. But there are also significant differences: In one passage Isis is mentioned to be the eldest of Nut's children, Thoth is also briefly mentioned as the brother of Osiris, Thoth and Seth kill Osiris together, Osiris is stabbed to death, Horus and Seth penetrate each other during sex, there is more focus on reconciling Horus and Seth, Isis and Nephthys play supporting roles and are barely mentioned, there is no tribunal of the gods and the entire childhood of Horus is skipped over. There were of course several reasons for this, such as the fact that Seth was not yet demonized to this extent, the Isis cult wasn't that important yet and Horus was not yet known as a child god. Especially in the new kingdom, the mother-father-child relationship between Osiris, Isis and Horus became more and more important. One of the reasons for this was that triads of gods gained in popularity. Especially the triad of Thebes consisting of Mut, Amun, and Khonsu. One of Khonsu's forms was Khonsu-pa-chered , which explicitly portrayed the deity as the patron of childhood.
As the Amunian cult merged with the Osirian, Horus, and Khonsu were increasingly identified with each other. The first written mentions of Harpocrates date from the XXI dynasty in the titulature of the priestesses who were assigned to the Theban triad, consisting of the god Amun, the goddess Mut and the son of the god Khonsu. his first known representation appears on a stele erected in Mendes during the reign of Sheshonq III (XXIIth Libyan dynasty) to commemorate a donation by the flutist Ankhhorpakhered. Originally, Harpocrates was elaborated as a duplicate of Khonsu-the-child (Khonsu-pa-khered). Unlike Horus, who until then had been seen primarily as an adult god, the nature of Khonsu, the lunar god, was characterized by his youth. Initially, the cults of Harpocrates and Khonsu combined in a sanctuary located within the walls of Mut at Karnak. This sanctuary, transformed into a Mammisi during the XXIth dynasty, celebrates the divine birth of the pharaoh in scenes where the motherhood of the queen mother is equated with those of Mut and Isis. The merging of Amonian and Osirian beliefs resulted into a double ancestry for Hapocrates/horus-pa-chered. As an example, the graffiti in the quarries of the Wadi Hammamat call him "Horus-the child(Hapocrates/Horus-pa-chered), son of Osiris and Isis, the Great, the Elder, the firstborn of Amun". The popularity of the Osirian religion made Harpocrates the paragon of the child-gods within the sole framework of the Osirian family
At the same time, more and more stories about Horus' childhood emerged, which always follow the same story pattern: Horus is a child and gets hidden by Isis from Seth, Seth tries to hurt Horus, and the other goddesses have to save him.
The infant Horus, hidden by Isis in the papyrus thickets of the Delta for fear of his uncle Seth, is the object of diverse attacks on his life, and hence spells used to ward off or to treat snakebites or scorpion stings, as well as diverse illnesses, or to secure one against other sorts of hazard, are frequently linked to this episode in the myth, often by taking the form of an appeal to Isis on behalf of Horus, with whom the patient is identified.
Harpocrates is not the only form of Horus as a child, however: other Horus-child-gods include Her-iunmutef, Her-sema-tawy, Hor-nechen-chered, Hor-renpi, Hor-sa-Usir, Harendotes, Hor-nedj-Hor-itef, Harachbit, Hor-em-nechenuef, Hor-hekenu, Hor-pa-chered-wer-tepi-en-Amun, Hor-pa-Re-pa-chered, Hor-pa-chered-en-Setech, Hor-sa-aset-en-Gebtiu, Hor-sa-aset-sa-Usir, Hor-sa-aset-Schenes, Hor-hun, Hor-wadj, Hor-achti-pa-chered, Hor-pa-chered-en-Bat, Hor-sa-aset-em-achbit, Hor-sa-aset-em-Behdet, Hor-sa-aset-em-Mehet, Hor-sa-aset-em-set-wenep, Harsiese-Min-Re, Harsiese-Osiris, Hor-Semataui-pa-chered, Hor-nechen, Hor-wedja-pa-chered (....)
Neither Hapocrates nor any other Horus-child-gods are necessarily associated with the Osiris cult. Hapocrates was not always the son of Osiris and Isis, but could also be the son of various other deities, depending on the cult centers in which he was worshipped. Some of these child deities even distanced themselves so far from the other Horus cults that they were sometimes treated as separate deities without being completely independent of Horus. Here are two examples: In Edfu, Harsomtus, a Horus-child-god, was worshipped as the son of Horus himself and Hathor. Or a particularly obscure version of the Osiris myth, where a female Horus has children with his/her father Osiris, all of whom are partial aspects of him/her: A hieratic papyrus, known as the Delta Mythological Manual, refers to a unique mythic cycle about "Horit". This Horit is the daughter of Osiris and mother, by him, of five sons, whom the text names as (1) Humehen; (2) the “Son of the Two Lords”, analogous to Thoth; (3) Horus of Medenu (Philadelpheia in the Fayum); (4) Horus of the Upper Royal Child Nome (Im-Khent or “Prince of the South”, the 18th nome or province of Lower Egypt); and (5), somewhat paradoxically, Horus-son-of-Isis.
Then there are many other manifestations of Horus who belong neither to Horus-wer nor to the Horus-child-deities: Like Heru-Behdeti,Her-em-akhet, Hor Merti, Horkhenti Irti, Herui, Harachte, Harmachis, Harpare (..)
Unfortunately, I still hear the claim of the existence of Horus the Elder und Younger online. This is a completely outdated interpretation of Egyptian mythology and not even Plutarch made this claim. As far as I could tell, Plutarch didn't even came up with the term “Horus the Younger”. So the whole Horus the Elder and the Younger thing is basically the modern misconception of a Greek misconception of Egyptian Mythology. Of the countless forms of Horus, Plutarch chose three that were particularly popular in his time and used them to show how complex and varied the worship of Horus was. It was also a perfect way for him to explain various origin stories of Horus and help his Greek audience to understand Egyptian beliefs.
The differentiation between Horus the Elder and Horus the Younger created by Plutarch is often assigned to the real mythological aspects of Horus such as Horus-Wer and Hapocrates. Firstly, to call Horus the Eldar and Horus the Younger the literal translation Hours-pa-chered and Horus-Wer is simply incorrect and secondly, the countless aspects of Horus do not fit into the two Horus-categories.

Hello, my name is Lucas. About six weeks ago, I made the difficult decision to temporarily step away from my job as a cashier at a gas station. The aftermath of a traumatic robbery left me grappling with haunting images and sounds—the memory of my coworker drowning in her own blood echoing in my mind.
My mental state spiraled downward rapidly, and I found myself standing on the precipice of despair, contemplating ending it all. Clutching my father's gun, I felt the weight of despair pressing upon me. But then, in a moment of unexpected interruption, a video game slipped from its shelf, crashing to the floor with a resounding thud.
I picked up the game and read the title, "Biltin's Barbershop." I couldn't help but wonder what I was looking at. The cover of the DVD case depicted three characters, two wearinng black aprons and one in the center wearing a red apron and a red and white striped boater hat. Despite the colorful title, their expressions seemed remarkably uninterested.
Tears still streaming, I slid the disk into my computer, and the SevenDotGames intro began to play. My crying ceased as the familiar logo graced the screen. SevenDotGames—the masterminds behind "FinalFight," my cherished childhood game. I pulled out my notebook and began to write.
The red-aproned character appeared on screen and uttered, "Hello there, fellow barber. You seem in need of a job!" Those words shocked within me, bringing back memories of my coworkers death. But then, to my surprise, he continued, "Great news—I'm hiring."
He reached up and pulled down a lift cord, causing the background to part like stage curtains. As they revealed the new scene, I couldn't help but chuckle. It looked like a real pixelized image of a strip mall, with the text "Biltin's Barbershop" clumsily edited onto one of the establishments.
As Biltin, the red-aproned barber, introduced himself, I couldn't resist muttering under my breath in a sarcastic tone, "What a big surprise." Biltin proceeded to introduce his other two employees: Barbra, a sharp-witted girl who goes by Barb, and Wyatt, a bald Canadian guy who punctuates every conversation with "eh" and answers to Razor. I couldn't help but find Razor's introduction amusing, reminiscing about my encounters with countless Wyatts during my time in Canada.
Once the introductions were complete, Biltin proudly showed me my very own office space—a comically terrible cubicle covered in graffiti. Just as I took in the sight, a perfectly timed foghorn sound effect played, adding to the absurdity of the moment.
As I explored the barbershop, I had the opportunity to interact with the characters, each offering unique mini-games. When I approached Razor, he greeted me with his trademark "eh" and a request for assistance. "I need help sweeping up these leaves, eh," he said, gesturing towards a pile in the corner. "If you lend a hand, I'll reward you with my piece of the golden scissors, eh."
As the mini-game began, I found myself tasked with cleaning up maple leaves scattered across the floor. Armed with a broom and a trash can, I set to work, sweeping the leaves into the bin as Razor instructed. It took only a matter of seconds to complete the task, earning a commendation from Razor.
"Nice, eh! Don't tell anyone, but I'm actually from Vermont," he confessed with a wink, his admission was actually pretty funny and made me laugh. After collecting his piece of the golden scissors, I made my way over to Barb to see what challenges she had in store.
As I approached Barb, she wasted no time in issuing a demanding question: "Hey, I need work done ASAP. Are you in or are you out?!" With a sense of urgency in her tone, she initiated the mini-game, promising her piece of the golden scissors if you win.
The game presented three options: scissors, hair dye, and a shaving razor. Customers began to enter, each in need of a specific service. With practice, I quickly honed my skills, efficiently attending to each client's needs. As the last customer left satisfied, I awaited Barb's response, but she remained eerily silent, her gaze fixed upon me.
Unease settled in as I muttered under my breath, "What the fuck is happening?" Suddenly, Barb's expression twisted grotesquely, her face melting before my eyes accompanied by the unsettling sound of a blender, nearly making me shit my pants.
As the screen suddenly switched into darkness following the unsettling encounter with Barb, Biltin the barber unexpectedly popped on screen, reminiscent of the animation in the intro. However, his appearance had drastically changed; his pupils stretched vertically, his unnaturally wide closed-mouth smile, and his limbs where elongated.
My heart pounding in my chest, I felt the blood drain from my face as the chilling message, "I can see you Lucas," ominously materialized on the screen. Fear spread through me, and without thinking, I screamed, "WHAT DO YOU WANT!"
Biltin the barber remained silent, his gaze piercing through the screen, his unnerving appearance sending shivers down my spine. Slowly, he extended a long, slender finger and pointed downwards. Trembling, I followed his gaze and saw my dad's gun lying at my feet.
In a haze of panic and despair, tears streaming down my face, I snatched up the gun and pressed it against my head. "IS THIS WHAT YOU FUCKING WANT!" I screamed, my voice cracking with emotion. Biltin's expression remained unchanged as he silently shooked his head in response, his eerie demeanor casting dread over the room.
I then pointed the gun at the computer monitor, and Biltin just nodded. With trembling hands, I fired multiple shots, shattering the screen into a pile of glass. Collapsing to the floor, I sobbed uncontrollably, burying my face in my hands. The room spun around me, a vortex of fear and despair swallowing me whole.
But when I looked up, Biltin was there, his presence casting a dreadful shadow over me. Before I could react, he lunged, his hands closing around my throat, cutting off my air supply. Gasping for breath, I struggled against his relentless grip, darkness closing in around me. I was then rushed to the ER, where doctors worked frantically to stabilize me. It took two agonizing days for me to regain consciousness.
As I lay on the hospital bed, hooked up to monitors and IV drips, I couldn't shake the feeling of Biltin's icy grip around my throat. Despite the medical attention, a sense of unease lingered, a nagging doubt that what had transpired was more than just a figment of my imagination.
After I shared the contents of my notebook and what I remembered with the doctors, who suggested that my experience might be due to a likely be robbery and PTSD episode mixing in some way. But when the police searched my fathers house, nothing was found missing.
Despite what everyone has been saying, it all seemed so real, so tangible—as if it were a nightmare that lingered. What could have happened, Reddit?
UPDATE: Today, I received a package in the mail containing a new computer monitor and a golden pair of scissors. I don't know if my friends are messing with me, but I'm scared that he's still out there.
UPDATE: Multiple homicides have been reported in my city all with the same description of the murderer; a tall lanky male Caucasian who has a brown mustache, vertical pupils and a large horrifying smile.

A bit of background: I live in a rural unincorporated part of the county in an area with a lot of mixed housing, apartments, houses, fields, forest, and only about half of the houses have sidewalks and usually let the blackberries take over their fences. No HOA or even HOA quality houses. The street I live on is mostly new construction (less than 20 years old) and so they are in better shape overall than the surrounding area but not "pretty" houses.
I live on a house on the corner and have a very long fence on the side of the property that is old but doesn't have any broken boards and the wood is definitely weathered. We're planning on replacing it in a couple years.
A couple months ago someone graffitied it, not a huge spot but about 3 feet x 1 foot. It's on the side we don't see so while we were aware of it it's not like we saw it daily (it was nothing offensive, just the tagger's name, which is dumb). Because of the condition of the fence I didn't want to power wash it because I was concerned with the wood being damaged and due to the weathering of the wood I didn't want a huge fresh wood area to stand out on the fence as I thought it would be worse than the tagging on it.
I had been looking for ways to remove it without making it an invitation to tag it again (paint remover or ways to scrub it off) and was waiting for the rain to stop before starting to work on it.
My neighbor across the street apparently got tired of it and power washed it today without asking us (never knocked on the door or sent us a message) and in the process damaged the surface wood on the fence and now it sticks out like a sore thumb. I didn't confront him while he was doing it because I have no doubt he would have taken a swing at me (I'm female but he's aggressive with anger issues and has no problems with taking it out on women)
My son said he'll pressure wash the rest of the fence so it doesn't look so bad but that'll take hours and the water bill will be super high. We're going to have to do that I guess but I'm pretty mad he just did it without asking and damaged the fence.
I'm wanting to confront him about it (well, it'll probably end up being my husband but still) and ask him to pay for the water it'll take to clean the whole thing.
AITA for doing that? If he had asked I would have told him that I was waiting for the rain to stop before starting to clean it as I had gotten paint remover so to not damage the surface.
Update: my husband went and asked him, nicely since they were friendly before this, to come talk to us before doing anything and the guy got defensive from the start and exploded. I guess "f*ck off and die" is an appropriate response to not thanking him first thing 🙄 I hope it'll blow over but he's the type to hold a grudge so I'm sure he'll be flipping us off and trying to run us off the road for the next 20 years. I'm tempted to power wash the meaning of consent on the rest of the fence but I may just paint it so if it gets tagged again I'll be able to clean it up easier.

Hi my names Kevin I’m 30 years of age I’ve been single for too long long and all my friends have been in relationships for too long long so I guess I’m looking for a lady friend I can laugh with and draw 😅 ultimately looking for friends though
Things about me • I like to draw/ paint (anything from graffiti to portraits) • I enjoy staying in shape • Latino • I only eat grass fed and only drink spring water lol
I’m in the LA area Have a great day everyone ☀️

Hi everyone, I’m making this post before Monday to weight my options. This was my first time subleasing an apartment to someone and the someone was my ex boyfriend. I helped him to get the place because it was only $750 a month and at the time, I knew he was going to end up homeless. I also made an effort to get him a job so that he was able to pay the rent. For pretty much the entire year, he was living in the unit alone and was paying the rent up until April. He didn’t pay any rent for the full month and decided to move out, 3 weeks into the month without telling me. On Thursday the 25, i basically had to break into the apartment to try to put his stuff out because he never gave me the key back, but he was already gone and had done graffiti and a half assed paint job on the living room walls. He’s blocked me on everything so that i cant contact him - even though i literally know where he works.
On Friday, i had to go and pay the rent for this month and the rent for next month on top of the late fees. I didn’t add him as a cosigner because the landlord never told me that was an option. Despite this, i have video proof and text evidence of the tenant (my ex) saying that he would pay the rent by the 24th but overall acting really careless about it. I mean, a ton of proof. The building manager says i won’t be able to charge him because if his name wasnt on the lease, then i cant prove that he lived there but i have a ridiculous amount of proof that he lived there, the damage he caused, and that he was saying he would pay but couldnt.
So my question is, what can i do? Obviously lesson learned but should i follow through with filing a civil case against him regardless of his name not being on the lease? Im out $2000 plus the time and expenses it’ll take me to repaint the apartment. Im really open to advice and suggestions because i don’t know where to start with this. I know where we works but i don’t know where he lives, would the courts even be able to track him down? What would happen if he doesn’t even show up?
Please go easy on me. I was trying to do something nice for someone who i thought cared about me because they were in a tough spot. But, he shouldnt get away with this. Also, sorry for the grammatical errors, my autocorrect is not on :,)
Thank you for reading.

Hi all. I'm new here and hoping for some feedback on what it's like to actually communicate with the departed.
I'm in my late thirties, and I've always felt as though I might be clairsentient based on how strongly I tend to feel other people's energy. I've never done much to hone that skill, it was something that just came naturally to me. But over the last five years, I've experienced a lot of loss with the passing of two friends, my brother, and most recently, two of my beloved pets.
These losses are what sent me down the path of communication. I'd had one previous experience in my life when my grandmother died, but I was only sixteen at the time and didn't know what to make of it. After her death, I kept having recurring dreams where she was trying to tell me something about how she died (it had been under suspicious circumstances). And I remember even my cat at the time kept going to a framed photo of her as if to try to tell me something.
My most recent experience was after the loss of my second cat (the first one had passed only a few months before). After we came home from the emergency vet, I began seeing glimmers of her walking through the house. It was like I could fully see her for a few seconds, and then she'd be gone. She also used to sleep by my head every night, and I started to 'feel' her near me again. It kind of freaked me out, to be honest, but then I started trying to communicate with her. When I did, it felt like she stuck around here for a while before she finally moved on. Now, I only see her very randomly at times with longer spaces between. And the strange thing is that with my other cat, I never saw her after her death, but I did hear her. She had a very distinct breathing pattern, and for quite a while, I kept thinking I was hearing her where she normally slept in the bedroom.
This brings me to my most recent experience, which is with my brother, who passed about eight months ago. Soon after he passed, I started getting what I can only describe as signs from him. They were small things, but I could feel his energy here. There was a cartoon that he liked that I hadn't seen in decades that suddenly found it's way into my feed. Then graffiti tags with his first name all over a city we were visiting. Some strange things started happening in my house. A cup fell and bumped into me, and I felt like he was trying to get my attention. Some of the books on my shelf (the same ones) keep falling off.
So tonight, I decided to try a meditation. I just wanted to see if I could communicate with him. I didn't think I'd be able to, as I've tried this before with my grandma and my two departed friends, and I felt like I got nothing. But tonight, I was able to clearly see my brother and ask him some questions. It felt so real at the time, but now I'm wondering if it was just my imagination.
I made sure to write everything down immediately after, and this is how it went:
He appeared, and I asked if I could talk to him. I told him I was nervous but happy to see him. He said I love you, sis and I miss you. (That's something he would always say).
I asked him who greeted him on the other side?
Grandma.
Who else were you happy to see?
He named a dog we had as kids.
Are you ready to greet dad? (he's dying).
I'm ready. He'll be happy here with me.
Is there anything I need to know about how you died? (we don't know how he passed because the coroner failed to do an autopsy and lied to us).
Heavy sinking stomach pain. Twisting feeling. (I felt this).
Is there anything you want me to do about your death?
He shakes his head, seems a little sad, but accepting.
Is there a message you want me to give mom?
Shows me an image of an owl. (I'm not sure what this means).
Is there a message you want me to give your kids?
Shows me an image of an eagle. Number 26.
Is there anything you want me to know?
Shows me the sun shining. I think he's letting me know he wants me to be happy because I've been very depressed.
After this, we said goodbye, and he drifted away. At first, I was so certain this must be real, but then I started to question it. So I guess I'm wondering how can you tell if it's real or your imagination? And when you're communicating with someone who has departed, do you see mixed messages from them? Like at times he would give me verbal responses, at other times he'd just show me an image, or I would feel it. Would this be considered normal?
Thank you for reading my post and any feedback you have. I know it's a long post, but I'm new to all this and trying to make sense of it. I appreciate you taking the time.
​

When ya’ll get through the door, you find a shop, some kind of training ground, and a light next to it. Kanako, the tenacious kitsune, is now your ally. The power of cute girls and sassy weeds shines within you. File saved. Polaris’s Shop.
You all enter the shop to find a man at a desk in front of a ton of maps and measuring tools.
The man greets you. “Ho ho… Welcome, Lightners. I am Polaris
You talk to Polaris.
You ask who he is.
“I’m Polaris. I’m a cartographer by trade. I was sent here by the Machinst to scout the Antediluvian Swamp for construction projects. Most people who leave go mad from all the diseases and buzzing, but I’ve settled in quite well.”
You ask about what Lightners are.
“Not that long ago, the Darkners lived in harmony with the Lightners. They were our gods. They were our protectors. Our protectors. They gave us purpose. There was one specific lightner we worshiped above all others. We called her the “The Zenith Maker.” But then, one day the Knight appeared. He told the Machinist what the Lightners really thought of us. He said we were nothing more than tools to them, and the Machinst believed him. Of course many like me don’t believe that story.”
You ask about the Realm.
“Historically, we’re foreigners to this land. We actually moved from far away. Supposedly, the Zenith Maker had to move for some reason. The Machinst then decided to build this teleporter thing which teleported us to her new home. We’ve only just begun to scout this land.”
You tell Polaris that you are all legendary.
“So you’re the heroes who are going to seal the dark fountain? Well, go ahead. I don’t really care. Honestly if you manage to beat up the Machinist, that would be hilarious.”
You decided to buy some items. You buy a trumpet gun, a leather pad and two fake donuts. You equip the trumpet gun and give the leather pad to Kanako.
Kanako smiled. “Oh, thank you!”
You then all go towards the training ground which some kind of bouncer is guarding.
“Hey, you need to pay to enter the training ground. 5 $ for each person. That’d add up to $ 10 because I think the girl could offer some other form of payment.”
Wyfole yelled. “She is sixteen!”
The bouncer looked away. “Fine, $ 15 dollars.”
You hand the bouncer $ 15 and enter the training ground. You find four “masters inside.”
You speak to the TP master.
“TP only lasts inside the battle, so there is zero point in trying to save it.”
Wyfole speaks. “Leftover TP turns into extra money at the end of the battle.”
The master responds. “… Wait, was Axle ripping me off?
You speak to the Wyfole master.
“Wyfole’s spell which he is called Pacify. It require TP which compared to sparing make sit borderline pointless.”
Wyfole speaks. “What? Some enemies start of tired and some can only be pacified and can’t be spared. Do you have any idea what you’re talking about?”
The master responds. “Hey, aren’t I supposed to be the Wyfole master?
You speak to the Kanako master.
“I’m the Kanako master. Kanako is the fighting specialist of the team. She has a special spell called Nadoken which-“
Kanako interrupts him. “I’m pretty sure it’s called Scarlet Flare.”
The master responds. “Well it looks like a Nadoken.”
You speak to the Rowan master.
“If you only ACT, you might start to think. What about the guy wearing the witch hat?”
Wyfole interrupts him. “If you know ACTing will make the enemy friendly, then you can ask me or Kanako to SPARE them on the SAME TURN. Or you could tell me to cast PACIFY if you know it’ll make them TIRED. A lot can happen in one turn.”
The master angrily responded. “Hey, aren't I supposed to be the Rowan master?”
You all decided to leave the training ground and continue through the swamp and eventually you find the Ronin.
The Ronin bellows. “So the Devil’s Posse is back together? Well too bad! That won’t help you because I’ve got a new and improved fighting force for you to fight with. Hahaha! Are you ready to have the-
Kanako interrupts him. “Chujin… Please just stop. I know this isn’t you. I have no idea how you came back from the dead, but I know this is you, so please just tell me why you are doing this!”
The Ronin responds. “Isn’t this fun though. I mean how long has it been since you’ve been on an adventure like this. Also, for the last time. My name is not Chujin. It is the Ronin!”
Kanako responds. “I will admit that is pretty fun, but please Chujin. No dad. What happened? How are you back? Please tell me.”
The Ronin lowers his head and responds. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. The stability of the mission won’t allow it. Troops… Attack.
Battle begin.
*A conspiracy of Centitacks crawled in.
You Check the Centitacks.
Centitack 5 AT 1 DF A type of centipede native to Antediluvian swamp. They’re used as guard dogs by the Darkners of this world.
You tell Kanako and Wyfole to DEFEND.
The Centitacks start crawling over the battle box. Wyfole and Kanako take damage.
You try to COMMUNICATE with Centitacks. Whatever you said made the Centitacks reconsider fighting you.
You tell Kanako and Wyfole to SPARE two of the Centitacks.
The remaining Centitack crawls over the battle box, but you dodge in easily.
You SPARE the remaining Centitack.
Battle end.
You continue through the swamp, until you encounter more enemies.
Battle begin.
*The Jackingham is trying to tell the two Screwflies sto to stop buzzing.
You tell Wyfole to X Compliment the enemies.
“You both make excellent acrobatics partners.” The two Screwflies seem flattered. The Jackingham is relieved that the Screwflies stopped buzzing.
You tell Kanako to SPARE the Jackingham.
The two Screwflies try to zip at you both you dodge it easily.
You and Kanako then SPARE the two Screwflies
Battle end.
You continue and find yourself on some sort of draw bridge. You see a sign that says, “Warning! Octodrones win here! Suddenly an Octodrone surfaces from the water and charges what appears to be a laser. You decide that you should run. While you are running, you accidentally ram into an enemy.
Battle Start
*Two Enforcers stand their ground.
You CHECK the enemy.
Enforcer 6 AT 2 DF A skilled soldier which uses a large shield to protect its fragile wooden body and a paddle to attack.
You tell Wyfole and Kanako to DEFEND.
The two Enforcers use their paddles to splash water into you. You all take damage.
You DISTRACT the Enforcers by pointing behind them. They both look behind themselves, but one of them goes back to looking at you now a little TIRED.
You tell Wyfole to PACIFY one of the Enforcers.
You tell Kanako to SPARE one of the Enforcers.
Battle end.
You continue progressing through the drawbridge, until you find the Ronin again.
“So… you’ve reached the Drawbridge? The halfway point to the Machinist’s Lair. It is really a shame that you won’t make it any further! Because I’ve been cooking something up. Something deadly! Something magnificent! Something fun! Hahahahahahahahaha… So Kanako, did that sound evil?
Kanako responds. “Why are you asking me that?!”
The Ronin responds. “Because I want to make sure I’m fulfilling my role correctly.”
Kanako responds. “Well I mean that did sound very foreboding and evil. Are you going to show us what you’ve been cooking up?”
The Ronin responds. “Not yet my dear Kanako. I’m still finishing my preparations! First I want to ask… What are you guys called exactly? I’ve been calling you Devil’s Posse this entire time, but I never thought to ask if you guys had an official name.”
Kanako yells excitedly. “Oh, Rowan, we should give our team a name!”
Wyfole concurs with Kanako. “Sure… Let’s hope it’s something good.”
The Ronin speaks. “Ok, I’ll give you all a petal to write on except for Rowan. He looks like the leader, so he gets to choose instead.”
The Ronin, Kanako, and Wyfole finish writing their preferences. You’re given a graffitied petal, a ripped petal, and a messy petal. You pick the messy petal.
The Ronin takes the petal from you and speaks. “Okay… Wait, this is my petal… I guess your official name is the Devil’s Posse… Sorry.”
Kanako responds. “How about… We take out the Devil’s part, and instead you can call us the Posse. That sounds way better!”
The Ronin concurs. “Yeah that does actually sound nicer. Well anyway! I’ve gotta go! My Big and Super Secret Project™ is just up ahead!”
The Ronin disappears and you touch a light that appears behind where he was. The power of the Posse shines within you. File saved. Grand Drawbridge.
You continue through the Drawbridge dodging the lasers of Octodrones. You find some kind of pirate?
“Hey you? You’re a foreigner too? I can tell! You all look so high and mighty probably because of your robots and teleportation tech! But that makes you no better than us! Just because we aren’t your “superior materials” doesn’t mean we're lesser than you! You're trespassing on our country!”
You decide to leave the angry man to himself. You find another light. The fact that Darkners can also be racist fills you with the power of disappointment. File Saved. Grand Drawbridge 2.
You find the Ronin at the end of the Grand Drawbridge.
He bellows. “Hahaha! You better turn back while you still can because you’re about to face My Big and Super Secret Project™. It is extremely dangerous! It is extremely inconvenient! I’m too scared to even describe it!”
Wyfole responds. “Let me guess… It doesn’t exist.”
The Ronin gasps. “How dare you accuse me of such a disgraceful act!”
Wyfole responds. “Well based on your current track record, you actually doing something cool or interesting doesn’t have a precedent. If it really exists, show us!”
The Ronin responds, “Fine then! You asked for it!”
The Ronin summons a remote control and presses a button on it. Suddenly a giant, chained hydra burst from the murky water below with a great roar.
The Ronin laughs. “See I warned you!”
Wyfole speaks to you. “Hey, Rowan, remember when I said you might have to FIGHT? Yeah, now is a good time to FIGHT!”
Boss Battle begin!
*The Guillotine Hydra gives you an annoyed glare.
You CHECK the Guillotine Hydra.
Guillotine Hydra AT 6 DF 2 An extremely endangered hydra native to the Antediluvian Swamp. It does not want to be here.
You tell Wyfole and Kanako to DEFEND.
The Guillotine Hydra attack you with its fire breath.
You and Kanako try to BREAK its chains. One of the five chains breaks.
You tell Wyfole to DEFEND.
The Guillotine Hydra slashs at you with its claws. You take damage.
You and Kanako try to BREAK its chains. One of the four chains breaks.
You tell Wyfole to use Intrusive Harmony. The Gullotine Hydra’s AT is lowered.
The Guillotine Hydra starts breathing fire at you despite the fact that it is made of wood. You all take damage.
You and Kanako try to BREAK its chains. One of the three chains breaks.
You tell Wyfole to HEAL Rowan with a Dark Donut. Rowan gained back 50 HP.
The Guillotine Hydra bites at you with its fangs. You dodge the attack.
You and Kanako try to BREAK its chains. One of the two chains breaks.
You tell Wyfole to DEFEND.
The Guillotine Hydra attacks you one final time with its claws and you take some damage.
You and Kanako BREAK the Final Chain.
The Guillotine Hydra, now realizing that there are no longer any chains, dives into the water and vanishes.
Boss Battle end.
The Ronin disappointingly speaks. “Huh… Guess I shouldn’t have banked on animal cruelty. Well… I won’t waste your time! See you in the Factory!”
The Ronin vanishes and Wyfole looks bewildered.
Wyfole asks you and Kanako a question. “Hey… How did you do that? I would never have guessed that that thing was imprisoned. Impressive, but eventually you will have to fight.”
You all continue and enter the large mound at the end of the Drawbridge.