I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

One thing that’s always helped me cope with the awareness of our imminent extinction is this reflection on time. I’m sure it’s not novel, but it goes something like this: time only exists insofar as we are conscious of it. Okay no, it exists regardless, but how we experience time is contingent on consciousness. Waiting at the door for your degenerate partner to get their shit together enough to leave the house feels like ages even if it’s technically speaking only 100 seconds. Perceiving every second that passes makes each second feel significant. Being in a year long coma feels like being asleep for a night.
Should humans go extinct, so will the perception of a billion years being a long time. In an ever expanding cosmos that has existed for eons, this phase of extinction is a teensy blip. Is it wrought with immeasurable suffering? Absolutely, and it fucking sucks. Is it significant? Only because we are aware of it. Eons will pass and it will be insignificant until we have a eyes to behold again.
Without a conscious witness to account for the passage of time, the time it will take for conscious life forms to evolve again will not be experienced. Or perhaps it will be experienced like a dream: humanity going to sleep and waking up again to a new dawn as if no time had passed (figuratively speaking). This is assuming that evolution will gravitate towards life forms gaining consciousness again, but that assumption isn’t that far fetched. Even if consciousness is a one-in-a-trillion phenomenon, a trillion years could pass in what feels like a second and we’d have conscious life forms again. On an experiential level, the only eras that actually exist are the eras where things are being experienced.
The point here isn’t to wager some anthropocentric argument about how trees that fall in the forest don’t make a sound (although perception/the absence thereof does appear to influence the laws of physics). The noise is always there, but it’s humans who turn that sound into music, literature, art and philosophy through the horror and splendour of perception. Marvel while you can.
TLDR: humans go sleepy bye byes. Eyes go wakey wakey as if nothing had happened. Mama nature DGAF. All hail mother dearest.

This will be a pretty lengthy post, sorry !
So I’m fairly new to the game (I played on iOS—which I know isn’t exactly the same but still), been playing since 4/1 of this year. I’ve advanced far enough that I’ve upgraded Residential Services, built Nook’s Cranny, moved in the initial three villagers, and upgraded my house five times.
I say all that to show that while I’m still fresh—and have so so so much further to go before I’m even getting stars, let alone five of them (which I’m not sure is my objective, but I digress), and having this immaculate island—I’m starting to get a little frustrated ? by my plateau in progress.
One of my main goals since I unlocked it has been filling my museum with all the creatures possible. I spend hours diving for sea creatures only to find the same things I’ve already discovered; which I know a lot of them are seasonal, so it will take time, it’s just discouraging. I come during all hours of the day and never find any new bugs. I endure wasp sting after wasp sting (bc I’m crap at netting them bc anxiety 💀) hoping to shake a new bug out of trees and no luck.
I know one way to acquiring some of the things I’m looking for (fruits, flowers, etc.) is nook miles tickets so I do my tasks for miles and build up a good amount of miles and invest hella of them (like 25,000+ at this point, for the sole purpose of finding aforementioned items) just to get the same fruit (apples, my native fruit ofc lol; and I’ve gotten cherries twice that I’ve noticed), fossils I’ve already found; hell, even the same fish.
I also know that you can travel to other peoples’ island to get stuff that way, but I feel like a cheater and like I’m not doing the work everyone else has put in to make their islands extravagant and amazing (I almost had an aneurysm when I saw people having giveaways and having their own lil events bc hoooooowww). And if it requires online to do that, I don’t have that yet bc it can’t fit in my budget, as cheap as it is. Or if it requires me to open my island, I’m not ready to do that (if I even can bc idk it if requires online).
It’s all very disheartening and it’s hard to stay motivated to keep playing for any reason other than getting my daily ABD check in and to to check what’s for sale at Nooks and Able Sisters’ (which makes me spend bells I should be saving for upgrades and such). I guess I need advice on how to stay entertained without getting burnout bc I don’t wanna stop playing bc I’m not bored just yet and I also don’t wanna leave so long I have to come back to do major clean up/lose villagers.
Thank you in advance to reading this long winded rant, and for any advice my hardheaded stubborn self can get !
TL;DR: I feel stuck bc nothing new is generating in any category (bugs, fish, sea creatures, fruits and flowers on mystery islands) but I don’t wanna take the easy way out to get them, or if I even can.

Hello all, I wanted to give the games a go again and came across the Tale of Two Wastelands guide The Best of Times, as well as the Wasteland Survival Guide for additional mods and fixes. I can provide the links if needed to either guide.
Anyway, it appears that if I spend any extended time in an AWOP added location, such as the shack under the bridge, the ant nest in springvale, the sewers in springvale, and then try to return to the world map/outdoors, I crash to desktop.
I have the 4gb patch, GetItsLAA returns 2. I set every exe in the FNV folder to run as admin, as well as the Mod Organizer application itsself. I didn't install every mod in the guides - the MO2 count is 360 and 161 for Plugins. Its not an AMD thing, I have an nvidia card. The guide did include the mod limit fixer as well. I set the following ini changes, per a suggestion I found on the 4gb patcher stickies.
[General] bPreemptivelyUnloadCells=1
[BackgroundLoad] bSelectivePurgeUnusedOnFastTravel=1
Any suggestions on how to stabilize being able to leave AWOP locations?
I'm not above console commands if it's an option to teleport somewhere without it crashing, haven't tried though as I assumed it would. Any further information that could help pin down a fix that I could provide? I didn't want to throw a bunch of things up without checking first on what is relevant and needed. Thanking in advance for any insight or assistance.

FalloutNV.esm DeadMoney.esm HonestHearts.esm OldWorldBlues.esm LonesomeRoad.esm GunRunnersArsenal.esm Fallout3.esm Anchorage.esm ThePitt.esm BrokenSteel.esm PointLookout.esm Zeta.esm CaravanPack.esm ClassicPack.esm MercenaryPack.esm TribalPack.esm TaleOfTwoWastelands.esm YUPTTW.esm NavmeshOverhaul.esm TTW Ultimate Invisible Wall Remover.esm FO3_Optimization.esm Main And Pause Menus Overhaul.esm TweaksTTW.esm Tale of Bi Wastelands.esm TTW Reputations.esm Tale of Bi Wastelands + TTW Reputations Patch.esm TTW New Vegas Speech Checks.esm TTW New Vegas Speech Checks - TTW Reputations Patch.esm Tale of Bi Wastelands + TTW NV Speech Checks Patch.esm TGMIO.esm 3DNPCFNVBundle.esm 3DNPCFO3Bundle.esm Functional Post Game Ending.esm Functional Post Game Ending - TTW Patch.esm TLD_Travelers.esm A Trail of Crumbs.esm Regulators.esm Uncut Wasteland.esp Uncut Extra Collection.esp Functional Post Game Ending - Uncut Wasteland And Extra Collection Patch.esm AWorldOfPainFO3.esm A World of Pain Revised.esm EDGE TTW.esm Sweet Pain.esm Sweet Pain NV.esm MoreMojave.esm Faction Wasteland Presence.esm Mojave Raiders.esm Mojave Raiders - TTW Patch.esm Mojave Wildlife (FO3-Style + No Chanced).esp TTW NPC Overhaul.esm TTW NPC Overhaul - FPGE Patch.esm SD_Transporters.esp Home and Safehouse Tweaks.esm Home and Safehouse Tweaks - TTW Addon.esm [RWM]-Complete.esm mil.esp mil-TTWPlacements.esp mil_Add-On.esp zl_Armaments_Remastered.esm Tactapack.esp WMIMNV.esp AmmoScriptFixes.esp CriticalEffectFixes.esp TTW No PipBoy Glove Equipping or Race Changes.esp TTW FaceGen Fix.esp ExRB-TTW.esp The Mod Configuration Menu.esp Vanilla UI Plus.esp Power Armor Holo Panel.esp PipBoyUITweaks.esp JustAssortedMods.esp JBTImproved.esp JIP Companions Command & Control.esp Stash Organizer.esp QuickSelect.esp ItemCards.esp RadiationVisuals.esp SimpleNightVision.esp TTWMoreMapMarkers.esp Map Markers - Reputations Patch.esp TTW Quick Start.esp TTW Quick Start Item Remover.esp Wasteland Starting Gear DC.esp TTW Quick NV Train Start.esp DelayDLCRedux.esp DelayDLCReduxPOPP.esp TTWTransportalponderEx.esp SD_Transporters spelling.esp Benny Humbles You and Steals Your Stuff.esp TLD LVLI Total Overhaul.esp SP TTW Patch.esp MoreMojave - FPGE Patch.esp Mojave Raiders.esp Mojave Raiders - TTW Patch.esp MR - Uncut Patch.esp MR - NPCO Patch.esp MR - Uncut - NPCO Patch.esp Mojave Wildlife (FO3-Style + No Chanced) - TTW Patch.esp [RWM]-Complete Added.esp Immersive Minigames.esp 3DGrenadeIndicator.esp WeaponRequirementSystem.esp ImmersiveRecoil.esp IRNPC.esp Reload Reloaded.esp MigCrippled.esp MigArmorDegen.esp RAD.esp BURN - Hardcore Fire Effects.esp Forced Entry.esp Quickthrow.esp QuickthrowTweaks.esp Supplemental Ammo Crafting.esp EDGE Master Patch.esp EDGE - Speech - Reputations Patch.esp EDGE - FPGE Patch.esp EdgeNPCO.esp EDGE - NPCO - FPGE Patch.esp TTW Dialogue and Interactions Expansion Overhaul.esp DIEO - Tale of Bi Wastelands Patch.esp DIEO - AWOPFO3 Patch.esp New Blood.esp S6S Base Game Perks Redux.esp S6S Base Game Perks Redux TTW Side.esp S6S Perks.esp Friends With Benefits Perk Pack.esp Tree New Perks.esp New Blood TTW Patch.esp Sweet Consumables.esp Aid Addon.esp Healing Systems.esp TheAIMerge.esp GRA Scavenger Hunt Unbalanced.esp GUWR - TTW Patch.esp Simple Attack Reactions - NV+TTW.esp MigPowerAttack.esp Hitstop.esp Enhanced Movement.esp B42Inertia.esp NVMIM.esp Impostors and LOD Flicker Fix.esp STAR TTW 2.esp BHYSYS STARS Gear Patch.esp WSGDC STAR Patch.esp STAR TTW - Uncut Extra Collection Patch.esp StarsNPCO.esp STARS - Uncut - NPCO Patch.esp STARS - MR - NPCO Patch.esp AWSOMER.esp ATMOS Ambient Overhaul.esp ATMOS NV - TTW Patch.esp ATMOS NV + FPGE Patch.esp ATMOS Sound Overhaul - TTW.esp Atmospheric Lighting Tweaks TTW.esp DNWeathers.esp Interior Rain.esp Interior Rain - TTW.esp CC - Rain.esp CC - 3D Rain.esp Natural Interior.esp 

• (Short story time)

Might be hard to believe, but growing up I had never played a Zelda game (yes people like me exist haha) so I figured better to start late than never. I had recently found and dusted off my old 3DS I found in the back of the closet and took the opportunity to look at old games I missed out on growing up. As I combed through the 3DS' most popular games and people's recommendations, one that kept sticking out was "Ocarina of Time 3D", universally praised and ranked number one on a lot of people's lists. So as someone 26+ years late to the party, I thought I'd finally play my first Zelda game.
So far, I'm loving the game. It's fun and charming, the atmosphere is so nice and immersive, and I finally discovered all the iconic music and sound effects I've heard for YEARS in other stuff LOL. Currently I'm still early on in the game, just landed into the Royal Family's Tomb in Kakariko Village.

• (Main Topic - Me getting stuck)

I've got a huge question though, is the game supposed to be frustrating and hard to follow? I'm no stranger to these types of games and am used to exploring, backtracking and traveling, but I kept getting stuck ALOT.
In the beginning of the game at Kokiri village, I got stuck immediately. I was told to go find a "Sword and Shield" before I could see the great deku tree. So I went to the shop and bought a shield, and then thought "Well they got a stick for sale in here, so maybe that's the make shift sword for now?" but obviously that wasn't it. After running around the village more, I found the entrance to the The Lost woods. Being such a grand opening of an entrance I thought I was supposed to go in there to find a sword. After running around for 15 more minutes and getting lost over and over I realized this wasn't it either. So after running around the village more I found the crawlspace to learn how to dodge the moving boulder and found nothing again? But I figured that couldn't be it so I keep running around in circles and missed the chest THREE times because of the game's camera controls (maybe this is just a 3ds version issue?). Was I supposed to have a hard time finding the first sword? No one told me it would be at the back of town, behind a small crawlspace, past a moving boulder. The only clue I got was "You need a sword and shield to pass through here". I thought it honestly seemed more like a place to find a secret item, rather than an important story piece?
When I progressed to Hyrule Castle to try and see the princess, I got stuck again. During the portion where you have to sneak past the guards, I found the vines growing on the side of the wall. And after sneaking past to the side of the castle, I found an old guy sleeping? He wouldn't wake up no matter how many times I talked to him and I couldn't figure out what to do. So I thought I missed something and went back to town. When I couldn't find anything different in town I went back to the castle and noticed there was a girl named Malon standing next to the vines now. I talked to her and she said her dad fell asleep on his way to the castle during a delivery and asked if I could "wake him up". I thought "ah, now that I've talked to this girl I can wake up that guy". I did think it was really weird how she wasn't there before hand though, shouldn't she have been there the first time I tried to sneak in? Anyway I snuck to the side of the castle again and the guy WOULDN'T WAKE UP. I was super confused why he wouldn't wake up after I talked to Malon. After running around for 10 minutes and finding nothing, I decided to look up a guide. It turns out Malon gives you an egg, but only after you talk to her TWICE. She only gives you the important item you need if you speak to her again, after she finishes talking the first time?? Wouldn't it make more sense for her to say "hey can you wake up my dad if you find him? Also here is an egg" all in one? Why would I need to talk to her two times in a row for the progression item I need? Anyway, I got the egg and snuck past the guards again and when I made it to her dad it hatched into a chicken. I'm going to be real here, I got stuck again lol. I thought I would just talk to Malon's sleeping dad and he would finally wake up and I would give him a chicken as a gift? I knew chickens were animals in Zelda (and that you're never supposed to attack one) but it didn't even occur to me that the chicken in my inventory was an item to be equipped and used to wake up Malon's dad. I had to look at another guide for that one.
My third time getting stuck was after I talked to Zelda for the first time. After I talked to Zelda for the first time, I got to see the cool cutscene and spy on Ganon in the window. Afterwards, I get the Princess note thing and Zelda stops talking to me (I'm free to move around). At this point, I had been playing for over 2 hours so I saved and closed the game. When I came back to it later in the day, I was SUPER CONFUSED why I was back in Kokiri village. After looking it up, I get sent back there every time I save and close the game unless it's a dungeon?? Shouldn't that be a warning when you save?? "Warning, closing your game will have you awake in your bed in Kokiri village the next time you continue". I was really frustrated that I had to run back to Hyrule on foot, sneak past all the guards AGAIN, and then when I talked to Zelda I had to watch the cutscene AGAIN. It only took like 17 minutes, so it wasn't a huge deal but it was really frustrating how saving and closing the game made me lose progress.
The most recent time I got stuck was at the graveyard in Kakariko Village. After entering Kakariko village, I couldn't find anything to do since I couldn't progress into the mountain without the King's permission. I kept hearing about the graveyard though, so I figured that's where I should go next. I found the graveyard at the edge of town and read the gravestones one by one. When I got to the royal family's tomb some ghost popped out and I defeated them. The ghost told me some things and then disappeared afterwards. After that, I thought I was done in the graveyard, no chests, no branching paths, just the graveyard tour which I assumed was a minigame to get some rupees?. My train of thought was, okay so now maybe the king will be in town and I need to find him so he will give me permission to enter the mountain, I'll probably need to play my ocarina for him since Impa said the song will give me credibility for knowing the royal family. Guess who was wrong lol. I spent 30 minutes running around town checking every nook and cranny for something that would progress me forward. I gave up and looked at a guide again. Turns out I needed to play my ocarina at the royal family tomb to progress forward. Was I supposed to know to do that??? Did I miss some dialog at some point that tells me if I see a triforce symbol to play my ocarina on it? No one told me to do that. It seemed obvious when I thought about it, but there wasn't any tutorial or hints from Navi about it.

• (Conclusion)

Am I just incompetent?? Is progression in OOT supposed to be smooth sailing and I'm just fumbling the bag? I'm genuinely confused why I got stuck so many times this early on in the game. It's just really frustrating and disrupts the flow of what would other wise seem like a great story. Don't get me wrong, I'm going to keep playing, I love the gameplay and the visuals so far, plus it's kind of exciting since it's my first Zelda game. But man, is it supposed to be this frustrating for me? Are all Zelda games like this? Or is this just how games were in 1998? Am I just bad at this game? Lol

First / Previous
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Suzanne thought it was absolutely brilliant of me to put books on a flash drive for Sun. She explained that Sun wasn’t as sophant (her word, not mine) as she might seem, more of a repository of information, but she was fairly intelligent. It was how she was able to connect Andrew being in pain to the fact that I was friends with Andrew, and that I would want to know that he was in trouble. Apparently some of Sun’s species had given some ‘wisdom’ to others in the past and it had made its way into mythology.
The key fact was that she was not smart enough to protect herself and her kind from the clever, organized poachers. With that information in mind, it was fascinating for me to think of how Sun took in and organized what she learned. It was almost as if she was a walking, talking library.
On the topic of tours, my first one went wonderfully, and I’m almost hoping Suzanne lets me do more of them. I know not all the tourists are going to be as awesome as these people were, but Suzanne gave me a lot of slack when it comes to dealing with them. She actually said that being a smartass is not grounds for dismissal, and that if I’m sarcastic or facetious to guests who are being ‘daft’ and they complain, she really doesn’t care. Is this the perfect job for me or what?
There were four guests in this party, two adults who were sisters and two children of one of the women, brothers aged thirteen and seventeen. The tour was a birthday gift for the older of the boys from his aunt, since apparently he was passionate about animal protection and conservation.
When they arrived at the front gate, I was sitting at Andrew’s desk, going over the booklet of information one last time. When the visitors pressed the button that sounded the alert buzzer, I tucked away in a drawer and let them in. I did have a cheat sheet with information about the animals on my phone just in case, a brief notation of each of them and which enclosure they were in, but I really didn’t need to use it.
Exiting through the front door, I saw them walk up the path toward me. “Hi, I’m Ripley,” I said, holding out a hand toward the woman closest to me.
She shook it firmly. “I’m Denise. This is my sister Carla and my nephews, Wesley and Jason,” she said, motioning to each of them in turn.
“I heard it’s your birthday,” I said to Wesley, giving him a smile. “You’re interested in animal conversation?”
“Back where we live, yeah,” he said, nodding. “The animals that you’ve got here are incredible. I can’t wait to see them.”
“Well, I can’t wait to show them to you,” I said. “Right this way.”
I led them on the path around the building, toward enclosure one. Despite the horrific memories of the animal killing Stanley’s friends, I knew it was just an animal, and I had to push past my feelings on what had happened. Keeping a small smile on my face, I motioned to the enclosure. “Fiercely territorial and amazing hunters, despite their large size, they’re arboreal and known to dart from tree to tree with barely a sound. This is one of only about two thousand left in existence.”
“Two thousand, three hundred and fifty six at last count,” spoke Wesley, his eyes on the trees.
I blinked, surprised and impressed. “Well that was fantastic. Do you plan on stealing my job when you graduate?”
Wesley looked at me with a grin. “Nah, everyone knows Suzanne only offers humans this gig. And I want to help animals like this one get off the endangered species list. The zoos are great for awareness and fundraising, but then the money has to go somewhere. I want to be doing the real work.”
“That’s really great,” I told him. “I wish you all the best in that career path.” At that, we saw the animal climb down from the tree, wandering a few yards from the tree line. This was because 90% of the time, when humans were at their enclosure and making noise, whether it was speaking to each other or calling out to the animal, it was someone bringing them prey to eat. Or, in my case, enrichment toys to play with.
“Whoa,” Wesley whispered.
“How close can we get?” spoke up Jason.
“The warding starts at the fence,” I told him with a small gesture. “So, just there.”
Both boys wandered closer and I glanced at their parents. It seemed that Suzanne’s zoo had a serious reputation for high quality invisible walls, because they didn’t look worried in the slightest about the boys being hurt or killed.
“They prefer dense forest as their home and have been known to make their nests in trees up to twenty meter in the air,” I continued. “And when hunting, they’ve been seen dropping eight meters straight down. They have incredibly dense yet flexible musculature, which allows them to tackle their prey without injuring themselves.”
There was more information about the animal that I continued to rattle off, though Wesley chimed in at certain points with the info I was about to convey. That was highly entertaining and very cool. When I’d been in school, I’d never met anyone who had my level of passion about endangered animals. I wondered if things were better where these folks came from, but realized that considering there were so few of these animals left, I guessed not.
The animal paced a little bit, seemingly waiting to see if we were the kind of humans that came bearing food, before deciding we weren’t and climbing back up into the trees as easily as I would climb some stairs.
As we moved onto enclosure two, Jason spoke up. “Are there any animals here we can touch or feed or something?”
I sighed inwardly before slowing to a stop. “Well, can you show me your hands?” Jason looked bemused, holding out his hands. “I mean…they both look like they’re in great shape. You can stand to lose one.”
The two women chuckled and Wesley smirked as Jason shoved his hands into his pockets. “Very funny.”
Grinning, I started walking again. “The animals here are all carnivores and all predators. You get to see them, but that’s it.”
“Alright.”
When we reached enclosure two, I started on my next spiel. “We’ve got three reanimated dead in this enclosure,” I spoke. They were just coming out from the trees as we arrived, presumably having heard our approach. “Marissa, Connor, and Bradley. They were donated by families who knew where they would be exhibited. Their next of kin, whoever they are, can’t stand the idea of putting them down. But we need to make sure they don’t have access to corpses, because one of them plus one corpse equals two of them.”
“They eat flesh though, don’t they?” Wesley asked.
I nodded. “Oh, yeah, but it’s from bodies that have already been dismembered. There’s no chance of them being affected by the transformation because it’s all parts.”
“Oh, got it.”
The creatures with blueish-white skin had superhuman strength, which is why they qualified for the security of Suzanne’s zoo. They also were likely the source of any Earth tales of people being brought back to life as zombies, specifically draugr, according to my research. They smelled like rotting flesh, so even as I kept talking about them and giving a background to the people they used to be, we were quick to move on once Wesley had gotten a good, long look at them.
“Enclosure four’s animal is a vampiric spirit. He’s a small, hairy humanoid creature with pointed ears. He wears a hat, and if he somehow loses it, he freaks out,” I said.
“They eat horses,” Wesley noted. “Also anything that gives them the chance to sit on it, usually catching them by surprise while they’re sleeping.”
The creature came out from the brush, giving us a suspicious look. He wasn’t in his humanoid form though; for some reason, he’d chosen to shapeshift to a dog.
I nodded. “Yep, indeed. Once the prey is dead, then he’ll eat it, and he has a voracious appetite. We have two wolves and two bears in the forest, which is one of the reasons I’ve got some self-defense items,” I said, patting my belt where my pepper spray (rated for bear) and my taser. “But the wards keep them out of this area of the zoo, so it’s really not much of a worry. It’s also a known shapeshifter, preferring the form of a dog, as you can see, as well as a cat, a snake, or even white butterflies, though the last one is rare.”
“The white butterflies are supposed to be a sign of good luck,” Wesley said, glancing to me. “Too bad we got the dog.”
“Yeah, otherwise you might be able to talk your mom into getting scratch-offs on your way home, huh?”
Wesley smirked at me.
The next enclosure was Spike, and he was waiting for us, dripping wet from having just emerged from the lake. I gave the introductory information about him, which included his propensity for eating animal eyes, nails, and teeth. “Recently, I’ve given him some enrichment activities, and I learned he likes artichokes, pecans, and hazelnuts,” I said, taking a bag out from my cargo shorts. “Wesley, do you want to toss this bag into the enclosure?”
The boy’s eyes widened and he nodded excitedly. He took a look into the paper bag before wrapping down the top to make sure nothing would fly out. Then he chucked it underhand past the fence. It landed a few yards from Spike, who waddled over to it quickly and tearing the bag open, spilling out the prizes inside. As the animal ate the pecans and hazelnuts, Wesley asked, “How’d you figure out he likes those?”
“It’s not all about taste,” I told him. “It’s mainly the difficulty of getting them out of the shells. He’s used to having to work for the parts of his prey he likes the most, so this mimics that activity, and he enjoys the process. I tried a bunch of different foods to find a few he liked.”
“Cool,” Wesley murmured, staring at him.
We watched Spike eat until he’d finished and then he went back into the woods, leaving us to move onto enclosure five. Japanese camellia were plentiful here, a type of pink flower, and that was because they grew anywhere near one of his species made their den. “This girl spends most of her time in the lake also,” I said, as the creature made its way toward the fence separating us from it. “But as you can see, she’s just as curious as the rest about what we’re doing here and whether we have food for her. She eats fish mostly, but she also regularly gets live prey.”
This creature was a spider-like monster, having six legs with long claws on each, and the head of an ox with two sharp horns. She was capable of shapeshifting to look like a human, but I guessed that she wasn’t fond of it, since I hadn’t yet seen her in that form.
“She prefers the easy way of catching prey, so to speak, by hiding in the lake and pouncing when something comes for a drink of water,” I explained. “Apparently humans are some of her favorite prey. She has an advantage of being able to spit poison, which often hits her prey in the eyes. But it’s usually used in defense rather than offense, since it secretes a limited amount.”
“What kind of animal would even go after something like this?” Jason asked, staring at her.
“Never discount one of its own species when you’re thinking about what might attack an animal,” I replied. “There are places that are breeding all of the animals here, but competition for mates is common. That means an advantage in a fight, like poison or venom, can make or break who the winner is.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
“It can’t spit past the warding, right?” Carla suddenly asked.
“Oh, no,” I assured her. “We’re fine. The wards wouldn’t let anything cross over.” She nodded, appeased.
The animal in enclosure six was the ginormous seal-hippo, Fiona, and she was looking at us as if she was imagining sprinkling us with herbs and spices and stuffing us in an oven. “This girl is one animal I’m going to work on enrichment activities for next,” I told them. “She prefers to feed on crayfish, though she’s happy to eat any humans that wander into her territory. She’ll even make a sound like a baby crying to reel us in. I’ve heard it a bunch of times.”
“Can you get her to make the sound?” Jason asked, perking up.
I grinned. “Not on command, sorry.”
“What enrichment are you thinking of trying?” Wesley asked.
“Possibly food placed in puzzle feeders,” I told him, “since she has claws that are pretty dexterous. Maybe a piñata made out of newspaper with flour inside, or a scarecrow that mimics a human.”
“Awesome,” he muttered.
After a little more educational tidbits, we moved onto Yui’s enclosure. “What is that?” Wesley asked, smiling.
“I got Yui the closest thing I could to a ping-pong ball,” I replied. “She quite likes it.”
“That’s so funny,” he said as she came out of the trees in her spider form. “I mean, the idea of her being a bloodthirsty hunter who seduces men to their deaths and eats them alive, but then on the other hand, she likes playing with something like this.”
“It is a little funny,” I agreed. “But when it comes down to it, all the animals here enjoy activities besides hunting.”
“She can shapeshift to look human, right?” asked Jason, trying to be casual about knowing something factual like his nerdy brother.
I nodded. “She looks like a woman from a region of Earth called Japan. And she’ll use strategies like holding out a hand to shake to get you closer. She tried that on me when I first got here but, as you can see,” I said, holding up my hands and waving them, “I didn’t fall for it.”
The boys both laughed as they got closer to the fence, watching her slowly pace near the trees.
Next was Sun, but she didn’t make an appearance as I spoke about her species. “Well…unfortunately we can’t guarantee that every animal comes out to say hi,” I sighed. “But…oh wait, here she is.”
The green lion with several horns and many eyes along her flank came out from the forest. “Hello,” she spoke.
“Hi, Sun,” I replied. “We have visitors.”
“What’s that?” Wesley asked suddenly, pointing at the small plastic bag that was still where I’d left it.
“Oh! That is Sun’s enrichment,” I said with a smile. “I put dozens of books on a flash drive and found that she can read them just like she’d read a shelf of books.”
Wesley’s eyes widened. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve read about anyone trying that before. That’s really cool.”
“The books are new and interesting,” Sun spoke, drawing our attention. “I’m grateful for them.”
I nodded to her. “You’re quite welcome.”
The next animal, unfortunately, wasn’t there, and we waited around for ten minutes as we discussed him. He was large and reptile-like with red eyes, with its hind legs and tail making him look vaguely like a kangaroo. Then, enclosure ten was a terrifyingly disturbing creature, the not-a-centaur with no skin, that I’d only seen a few times while walking my route. It gave a good demonstration of its ferocity, showing its sharp teeth and snapping at us a few times.
“I’m thinking of trying salt licks and other horse enrichment like a big bouncy ball,” I told Wesley, whose eyebrows went up at that. “Maybe give him more things to forage like scattered grains or a box filled with pinecones and seeds. Foraging is a huge part of a horse’s life in the wild, and humans have to do a lot of activities like that to keep pet horses busy. Of course, he also loves the little salt-water lake that was built for him.”
We spent some time looking at the animal before moving past our last stop, the empty enclosure of the animal was stolen. Carla glanced at me with a sad smile, knowing what had happened, it seemed. I gave her a nod as we continued on our way, walking into the office. “So, I hope everyone enjoyed themselves!” I said with a smile.
“That was the coolest birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” Wesley said, looking to Denise. “Thanks so much, seriously.”
“It was my pleasure,” she said with a nod. “I’d never been here before, and knew I’d find it fascinating. Thank you for the educational aspect,” Denise said, glancing at me. “I learned quite a lot.”
“Happy to hear it,” I said, returning the nod.
As I escorted the guests out of the zoo and locked the door behind them, I reflected on how much I’d changed. The first time I’d seen Yui’s tarantula form, I’d nearly passed out from fear. Now here I was, walking tourists around like it was no big deal. Humans really can adapt to anything, it seems.
That afternoon, Suzanne had texted me that she was coming by after my shift, and I met her in Andrew’s office, shutting the door to the security room behind me. “How’s Andrew?” I asked first thing.
“He’s doing well,” she said with a wide smile. “Back on non-hospital food. He’s allowed to order food on his phone, and to hear it from him, that’s the best news he’d received in a long time.”
I chuckled. “I guess some clichés are true for a reason.”
“Indeed.” She took a breath. “All right. Ripley…I would like to discuss something with you.”
My face went slack at the serious tone in her voice. “I’m not… Am I being fired?”
“What? No!” she exclaimed. Then she chuckled softly. “No, it’s nothing like that. Just, here, let’s have a seat.” Suzanne walked over to the couch and sat at one end, and I took the other. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve kept from you, that I wanted to keep from you until you found your sea legs here.”
“Well…I have,” I said with a nod. “So, what is it?”
Suzanne took a breath. “I knew your mother.”
The words hung in the air for a moment before making their way to my ears. It was a perfectly logical sentence, and yet it didn’t make any sense. “What?” I finally managed.
“When you graduated college, I decided to move the zoo from Italy to within driving distance of your home,” she said softly. “Near enough to your town that you’d see the advert. We ignored any other applicants and I hoped you’d apply. Actually, I expected you’d apply. Not just for the money, but considering the field you wanted to go into. As soon as I’d found out your major, I knew.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, holding up a hand. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How do you know Patricia?”
“She owned the zoo before I did,” Susan explained. “Fourteen years ago…she was working to track an injured animal that we could bring into the zoo and she was killed by poachers.”
My heart calcified in my chest and a lump lodged in my throat. As my breaths became shaky, I stared at her in shock. “She…she’s really dead?”
“You suspected?” she asked softly.
“It…” I swallowed hard. “We had her declared legally dead after…I don’t know, seven years I think. My dad wanted to go after her for child support, but the police said…they said they couldn’t find…” Tears came to my eyes and I blinked them back before I met Suzanne’s gaze. “She owned the zoo?”
Suzanne nodded. “It was her baby, you’d say. When Patricia passed, I inherited it, which we’d discussed beforehand, a legal just-in-case that I never expected her to need. I’m under the impression that you were told she went to Africa for her photography career, but she was in fact going to remote areas back in my home world almost every time.”
“But I-I saw the photos,” I said, my eyes narrowing. “You’re telling me she put on a show of getting pictures that someone else took for us to see every time she visited? Did my dad even know?”
“I suppose that’s an accurate way to put it, putting on a show. And no, your father was never told. It’s not the way of things to tell humans unless it’s necessary. I won’t bore you with the details, but us and humans, we’re distant relatives, so we can still have children. But it wasn’t planned. Your mother fell in love with your father despite herself; she hadn’t meant to find love. Then she became pregnant with you and…well, the rest is history.”
“I think she had a different definition of love than the one I have,” I said tightly. “You’d think she’d have put her survival as more of a priority. Put being with the man she ‘loved’ as a priority. Her kids needed her. I needed her. She signed up when she became a mom. She could’ve screwed up all the time but she couldn’t even manage that one job: be there. When I was in the hospital, I kept thinking, ‘Where is she?’ and now you’re telling me that she put these animals above being there for her kids, and this whole time she’s been dead.”
“The hospital?” she asked, furrowing her brows.
“Never mind,” I said tersely, averting my gaze.
Suzanne hesitated before she nodded slowly. “I’m sorry for your loss, and not just for her death, Ripley,” she told me. “Patricia was…well, a ‘free spirit’ would be putting it gently. She always assumed the world would be there for her whenever she needed it.”
Staring at her for a long moment, I shook my head. “Why? Why come here and hire me?”
“I thought that would be obvious,” she said, smiling. “Your mother was so passionate about this place and once I found out your college major, I figured you would be as well.”
“Did you know that I hate her?” At that, Suzanne’s expression froze on the edge of shock. “She…she left us,” I whispered. “Didn’t tell us who she was or what she really did for a living and gave us no closure. And even when she was here, it was just visiting. Her real home was her work. She could give me all the presents she wanted, but even when she was here, half the time she was still on her computer doing work. It’s not like that stereotype of never making it to my tennis practice or something; it’s that it always felt like she was only partially here, even when I was sitting next to her. I don’t even know if I appreciate her turning me into a wildlife fanatic because it…it…makes me feel like I’m close to her in a way that’s just infuriating. She loved the animals more than she loved us.”
“Oh, Ripley-”
“Don’t,” I said, shoving myself to my feet. “Don’t try to convince me otherwise.”
“I wasn’t going to,” she said quietly. I pursed my lips. “I was going to say that I’m sorry that was the case. Your mother was…flawed, just like any other person. She had two loves in this world: her family and her work. And often, her work overcame her, her zeal for environmentalism getting in the way of being a good mum. She left your father trying to fill the role of two parents, holding your family together. You and your brother and your father, you all deserved better than that.”
My lower lip quivered but I bit down on it hard. It would’ve been a lot easier for me if she’d been speaking from a place of clueless reassurance about all this. But everything she said was making sense and that meant I didn’t have someone in front of me to be angry with.
“Why didn’t you tell me when Andrew hired me?” I sighed, sitting back down on the couch.
“Well, like I said, I wanted you to find your sea legs,” she said with a small smile. “I didn’t want the truth affecting whether or not you wanted to work here, whether you wanted to stay here after finding out about what the animals are. It would’ve complicated things, the emotions you’ll have to work through now that you know the truth. Whether or not you decide to give another tour, you also know what they’re like. That’s the benchmark I wanted you to reach before you found out about who you are.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Who I-” My face went slack. “Wait.”
Suzanne nodded slowly. “You’re only half human. Your brother too.”
The room seemed to tilt on an axis for a moment. “That means I’m also half…what?”
“We call ourselves Eldritch, these days,” she replied.
My eyes bugged out. “What?” I exclaimed. “So you’re all, like, gods or something?”
Suzanne burst out laughing. “Oh no, goodness, no,” she chuckled. “It’s just a word. We live in a very different world from this one, and a few generations ago we discovered the word and it made its way into our lexicon. But it does mean you can see all the animals. Indeed you did, on the tour you gave.”
“Wait, no, I had the glasses that…” I stopped. “Did those glasses do anything?”
She gave a sly smile and shook her head. “Not a thing. You made incredibly quick progress, and then when it came time for the tour, all you needed was to expect to see the animals, and you did.”
Genetics. That’s what Andrew had said during our interview, that part of how many animals you could see was determined by genetics. I guess having a mother who was originally from the other dimension gave me all the genes I needed to see everything here. “Could I…visit your world?” I asked tentatively. “You said that my mom took photos of the animals there. Could I…” My voice trailed off, not even sure if or how I wanted to finish that sentence.
“Those who are half human, especially those who are raised on Earth, don’t come visit,” she said gently. “I could show you some photos of other animals, and I could loan you as many books as you’d like, but it’s simply not a place where you’d be safe.”
“Oh,” I said, leaning into the couch cushion as I pictured the animals in the zoo. “Yeah, actually that…makes sense.” I paused. “So, what now?”
“It’s up to you,” she said. “I wanted to wait until I was sure you were comfortable with your position here, and then put the ball in your court. And so it is. What do you want to do now?”
What did I want to do? It wasn’t that difficult a question, just a deep, serious one.
I wanted to thrive, as the animals did. This is my enrichment now, working at an incredible, wonderful, terrifying zoo. The experience so far hasn’t been perfect, and I know there are risks, but life isn’t about staying safe. It’s about learning new things and making a difference in the world. And, if you’re lucky, having a job that’s something really special.
​
THE END
​
First / Previous
***
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From what's shown in the show we see:
The Bookie (his first kill where he makes his bones)
Febby, The Rat in Maine
Chucky Signore, with the fish gun
Matthew Bevilaqua, at least he got his (diet) soft drink of choice
Big Puss, who haunted him as billy bass
Ralph, who was his first kill in almost two seasons
That Animal Blundetto
Chrissy, who should have covered that beak better
Coco, it's said that he's alive at the end, but considering Tone left him as a toothless shopping cart from here on out, I don't think he would've lived much longer
That's a total of eight, considering how generally abrasive and violent T is shown to be, I doubt the twenty something year gap had zero murders from the big guy. I think it's reasonable to assume that the show didn't show every bit of his life and he could have conceivably killed people but said hits weren't explicitly shown.
The best evidence for this I think is the last part of season six, it's clear from the start that he was trying to do less of the fighting himself and his comment to Gloria about the older gorilla having done its fighting already so it just has to jaw at its opponents now seems to show his mindset for the mid part of the show. Notably he doesn't kill anyone in season three (on screen at least) and only goes after Ralph after pretty much everyone wanted him gone and later his cousin to salvage the situation and preserve the rest of the family. By the end of season six though, he becomes far more active and arguably the most frontline he's been since the start of the show beating Coco, killing Chrissy and generally becoming more energized than any other point in the series.
The other mobsters wouldn't have been scared of him if they didn't know he posed a real threat at any moment, we see Phil even look scared of him in that chase despite how brutal Phil is when he attacks other people, even though he's just the leader of this pygmy thing down in Jersey. Not to mention his connections probably had to be earned in blood, the Russians, his corrupt FBI people, his corrupt local cops, the judges and people he brought onside, the Civil Rights activist guy who was really working for him, regardless of blood his cousin over in Italy had to have had some reason for working with him aside from fancy cars and she didn't even get to sleep with him (her own second cousin turning her down had to be quite the low blow) so he probably had to take care of some people in the states for her.
He also seems quite comfortable killing and brutally killing at that, he has his whole 'we are soldiers' thing too but looking at the sheer joy in his eyes when he's beating people or killing them so who knows he might have 30-50 people he's killed by the time everything is said and done which is an extremely high amount. Perhaps it's not that high when one considers that arguably half his killings in the show weren't something he intended to do until the moment they happened, he didn't go to Ralph's house thinking he'd kill him, he was paranoid about Chrissy but wasn't going to kill him until the crash mixed with Chris being high and seeing the tree branch where his daughter would've been, all the other kills had either a lot of deliberation or preparation. That's with Tone as an established leader though, who knows what all he'd be tasked to do as an underling.
He would have been working under his father for a fair portion of this time which couldn't have been peaceful.
I know enough with the preambles, frankly the whole thing has me depressed and ashamed

WPA – A Completely Average Roadtrip
Disclaimer: Not canon, and I don’t use patreon so please don’t spoil me. Also, any opinion held by a character is that of the characters and not my own. Enjoy.
Town of Ljosalfington, local time 14:00, week 7
Emma Booker
“Again Illunor, I warned you before that this is a utility vehicle, not a party rated smart-limo. I am already compromising more than I should by allowing you to use the sample cooler as a minifridge, one which I can’t even use!” I said as I loaded the materials I had just purchased into the back of the high-G All terrain fusion-ethanol-electric hybrid 24th-century legacy pickup truck that I had printed out earlier this week, carefully avoiding the heavy ordinance hard point.
“That is hardly an excuse for that abysmally cramped leg space barely fit for cattle, never mind the bare minimum for standard decorum suitable for nobility. If this is what a car is like, then I don’t see why you care for your technology,” complained Illunor, who was sitting around idly with a malformed garish bowl of icecream that he had stashed away from lunch.
“If it bothers you so much, perhaps you could help next time with your ‘bigger-on-the-inside’ magic,” I retorted as I slid the last core sample into the back before covering it up with a tarp and strapping it down.
I had originally planned to visit Ljosalfington by myself to acquire much needed exo-materials to test various mana manipulator configurations as I worked to develop my first wand as not all of the materials I needed were procurable locally from Elaseer. I eventually yielded, much to my regret, to allowing Illunor to come with me as he insisted on wanting to deliver a letter personally in town after Thacea had pointed out the wisdom of not travelling alone.
We continued our back and forth for a bit yet as I finished securing my payload a voice called out to me from the direction of the town.
“Excuse me a moment, I couldn’t help but notice but are you from the academy?”
I turned to see an elf dressed in a plain brown buttoned up tunic matched by a slightly shabby pair of trousers with what appeared to be a lute upon his back and a plain and unenchanted longsword on his belt gesturing at our robes. Mine especially were new and unusual, tailored by the academy to go over my armour and allow access to the anchor points and allow me to exit my armour with minimal hassle. Illunor scoffed at what was evidently a commoner’s arrogance at approaching nobility and turned his head away in disgust. I glanced at Illunor and shook my head before turning to face the new man. I had time to spare, and any opportunity to engage in a hearts-and-minds dialogue with the locals outside the bounds of the managed environment of the academy was more than worth the time to chat. Especially as most of the other locals seemed to be content in ignoring me.
“Yes, we are currently studying at the Transgracian Academy. I am Cadet Emma Booker representing the United Nations of Earth and Luna from Earthream, and my aloof compatriot is Lord Illunor Rularia of the Vunerian courts. We were just about to head back but are in no rush. May I ask your name and what brings you by?” I asked with my hand outstretched in greeting.
“Ah yes, yes. My name is Edhel Redoehdelnif, a wandering bard by trade like my father and his father before him. My apologies, Cadet Emma Booker, I am unfamiliar with Earthrealm,” said Edhel as he grasped my hand with both of his and shook it tepidly yet vigorously. Or rather, tried to, as the motors on my suit resisted his efforts.
“News doesn’t seem to spread all that fast around here, so it makes sense you haven’t heard of us. We’re a new realm, and only just got here. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Edhel Redoehdelnif,” I replied.
“Absolutely fascinating! And a knight no less, or perhaps a squire? I’m sure you have many stories to tell of Earthrealm. Say, by chance are you about to head back to the academy? I have business in Elaseer and the usual coach has been absent as of late so I would rather not go it alone,” said Edhel.
I was hesitant to bring a stranger back in the car with me, even if Illunor was present. However, the opportunity that meeting a bard presented was too good to pass up from an intel perspective and to win the favour of the populace at large.
“That is a great idea. I think I have room for one more…” I paused before gesturing towards Illunor, “provided everyone is ok with it that is.”
Illunor gave a huff and turned his head away in silence.
“Very well, I will allow this. But he will not be joining me in your sorry excuse for a coach,” said Illunor dismissively.
Illunor approached the backseat expectantly and the door opened for him automatically, allowing the dlc kobold to gracefully enter and lounge across the length of the seats, once again ignoring the seatbelts. I sighed as I made my way to the driver’s seat, and Edhel entered from the passenger side as he marveled at the automatic doors and the interior.
“What a strange carriage this is! Although I must say, shouldn’t you be retrieving your horses? I didn’t see any harnesses or sense any artifices,” inquired Edhel as he attempted to make himself comfortable on the car seat, lute in front of him.
“Oh no, this thing doesn’t need horses or magic,” I said with a chuckle as EVI started the car. The elf raised his eyebrows at the sudden hum of the engine and made an expression of alarm when the car started driving itself without my input. “See, purrs like a kitten.”
“Earthrealm must have some large kittens if they purr like that,” noted Edhel, “but you must be concealing the enchantments somewhere. Such a thing as this with such strange yet precise craftsmanship is only possible in the crownlands.”
“Nope, no magic,” I said cheerfully.
“Then how?” Asked Edhel.
“It’s rather simple really. Are you familiar with the workings of a mill?” I asked, deciding to keep things surface level and elementary to avoid provoking the IDOV threshold.
“Somewhat, though I confess to not being familiar with their workings. Are you suggesting this is akin to a mill?” Asked Edhel perplexed.
“It’s the same principal. A mill works by taking a source of rotation such as a waterwheel or windmill, transferring that rotation along a series of rotating shafts and interlocking gears, and finally putting that energy to work by rotating a millstone,” I began as the car pulled out onto the smooth cobbled road in the direction of Elaseer. A notification popped up in the corner of my vision indicating my recon drone swarm had shifted from a holding formation to a convoy screening formation, and while the roads were clear I kept the speed at 60km/h to account for my passenger’s apparent distaste for seatbelts.
“Rotation…” muttered Edhel. He turned to face one of the wheels and EVI pinged an alert for a probable match for a detection spell, “fascinating.”
“Edhel, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, perhaps I should have asked first. Yes, I can see how it all fits together. But the source of this rotation? I see no mighty river or great wind to power this, so where does it come from?” Asked Edhel, not really apologizing. Elven arrogance, it seemed, was not limited by class.
The act reminded me of Sorecar when he inspected my gun, but where the armourer had been respectful with it, Edhel was more flippant. I considered the possibility that he was a spy sent by one of her peers or the crownlands, though this did not mesh with the methods I had seen so far. Edhel may have been just overly enthusiastic. In either case, I quickly decided to only reveal the antique design for the ethanol engine, and not that of the batteries or the emergency coupler to my suit’s fusion reactor.
“Right, well please ask first next time. As to your question, I won’t bore you with the details, but the rotation is generated by creating a periodic sequence of explosions inside of a machine – a manaless artifice – called a combustion engine, said Emma.
“So that’s what that sound is…” pondered Edhel, “are these artifices typical in Earthream?”
“You are awfully inquisitive for a commoner,” noted Illunor as he inspected his nails for dirt, “and rather accepting of something which should be impossible.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a bard if I wasn’t, my lord,” said Edhel shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “perhaps some music might set the mood better?”
“That would be preferable, bard. I have heard enough of the Earthrealmer’s Road Trip Playlist and would like to listen to some music of real culture,” said Illunor.
The bard agreed and proceeded to awkwardly play a ballad about an adventurer who slew a hydra in some frozen wasteland. Partway through, I politely interrupted the Edhel to point out the seat controls much to his fascination and Illunor’s grumbling at their common nature, and after some adjustment the bard went on playing and I half-heartedly listened while I paid attention to the road and my drone feed.
Particularly after EVI detected something unusual and alerted me to its presence.
”Attention Caded Booker. There is a disabled vehicle blocking the primary route to destination. Heat signatures in the woods are consistent with that of an ambush.”
“Damn it,” I muttered.
I glanced at the drone feed to see a broken cart strewn horizontally across a wooden bridge over a brook. On the surface it looked like a pair of civilians who required aid and assistance, but off in the woods were several heat signatures, several of which held weapons of varying levels of enchantments. Occasionally one of the pair on the bridge would talk with them, suggesting they were in cahoots rather than hostages. I recalled crossing that very bridge not a few hours earlier, so the blockade was very recent.
“EVI, did we pass that cart on the way here?” I asked.
”Negative,” replied EVI.
I grimaced. I had been trained to handle road-side ambushes, but it was only something that was a theoretical possibility. Something that should only occur in a warzone or a corrupt and unstable polity. I knew I had the capacity to handle such an encounter, even non-lethally, but that didn’t change the fact that these were civilians and as such were the responsibility of local law enforcement. Combined with the fact that I had passengers I was responsible for and engaging the ambush was a risky option.
“EVI, give me a list of alternative routes,” I commanded.
”Affirmative. Here is a list of routes in order of recommendation,” replied EVI.
I looked over the routes superimposed on a map of the region and quickly dismissed taking a shortcut through the forest and cutting through farmland. A detour caught my eye that extended the journey by roughly ten kilometers and I immediately sent a pair of drones to scout it out before committing to the detour.
“Are you alright, Cadet Emma Booker? You seem distracted,” asked Edhel, snapping me back to reality.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just focused on driving,” replied Emma.
“I suppose it must be quite taxing to command an artificed carriage of this complexity. Perhaps it might ease your mind if you were to regale me a tale of a hero of your realm?” Said Edhel, strumming a complex tune from his lute as he spoke as each and every pluck triggered a low-level spell.
“Well, that may be a problem. We don’t have any monsters to fight, and wars are a thing of the past,” I said while desperately tip-toeing the subject of aunt Ran, the subject of war, and our voyages through the cosmos, “though we are not without the adventurous spirit. We certainly have many stories of grand voyages. Some mythical and fictional such as The Odyssey as told by the Greek poet Homer and some historical such as the race to the south pole.”
“The south pole,” muttered the bard, “so you have explored all of Earthrealm then? I suppose that makes some sense, if you have artifices such as this then traversal of a globe would be quite manageable.”
“You are quite perceptive,” I said, not wishing to elaborate.
“A great performer knows his audience,” said Edhel with a charming, honest, almost human smile.
I felt a pang of homesickness as an intrusive thought reminded me that I could have gone to a real college surrounded by friendly faces my age, engaging in nightly holostreams and dreaming of adventures in the stars from the safety of a college dorm room. The sight of Illunor in the rear camera was the only thing that kept me grounded, as I almost felt like I was back at home on a road trip rather than returning to a fantasy feudal court, constantly evading death at every turn with the fate of humanity on the line. As such, and prompted by EVI, I barely had the wherewithal to take the planned detour.
A fact which did not pass by Edhel.
“I believe you may have taken a wrong turn, Emma,” he commented.
“Nah, I’m just taking the scenic route. I came from that direction on the way here, and you have inspired me to see the other road and I figure it should only add a few extra minutes to our travel time,” I said, gesturing at a paper map which I had referenced exactly once, “though on that subject, you seem to know these lands quite well. Do you have any recommendations on places to visit in the Nexus to scratch that itch?”
Illunor raised his eyebrow at the detour excuse, knowing full well this was not part of the plan. I worried that he might complain about the issue and but thankfully remained silent as he snacked on the contents of the misused sample storage unit. Edhel himself took on a more pensive posture.
“I’m happy to have been such an inspiration, Emma, though I am sure an explorer such as yourself has little need of such. I would normally suggest the skyward fountains of Verdellan or the cloud tides of Asturia, but that may be too casual for someone of your calibre. Perhaps the severed chasm or the fire marsh of Bhandahova may be more to your liking. Or perhaps…” Edhel leaned in, “I have heard rumours of a dragon in the glassy obsidian wastes of Vurcanar.”
I chuckled at that, knowing how I was fortunate enough to fish a dragon scale out of the nearby lake for the ECS. “The thought of going dragon hunting had certainly crossed my mind…” I mused aloud.
“Yet you sound hesitant. Perhaps it is too much for a newrealmer. Perhaps a slime or a dire rat might be more appropriate,” he said with a tease.
“No, it’s not like that! It’s” I stammered, before attempting to change course after realizing I had been goaded, “what I mean is, I was under the impression that dragons were an endangered species. Where I come from, hunting endangered animals is usually illegal, and big game hunting in general is frowned upon. We do make exceptions in the case of problem animals such as if a large predator starts hunting humans, but as a rule we prefer conservation and try to find ways of coexisting with wildlife such as the use of barrier fences and scaring away dangerous animals rather than being forced to cull their numbers. Having a species go extinct would prevent future generations from appreciating them and risks destabilizing the ecosystem they are a part of. Now if this dragon was actively razing villages and eating civilians and livestock, that would be one thing, but this does not look to be the case. I don’t imagine the Nexus has any settlements in this wasteland, and the dragon clearly wants to be left alone. Killing an innocent dragon would be murder.”
I grinned to myself after delivering a diatribe that would have made my tenth grade social and environmental studies teacher beam with pride, though by the expressions of my passengers my view did not appear to be shared. Edhel’s mouth was agape in shock and fascination, while the Venurian in the back seat merely huffed in disapproval.
“I assure you Newrealmer, there are no innocent dragons,” stated Illunor with a hint of terseness breaking through his otherwise regal demeanor.
“Illunor, I understand that Venurians have personal reasons for not liking dragons, but you can’t just extend that disdain to their descendants or those uninvolved just because they are the same species,” I said.
“If I may interject on your behalf, my lord, I believe I can address Cadet Emma Booker’s concerns,” said Edhel with a bow. Illunor nodded in approval.
“Very well, you may proceed,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord. My dear Emma, you must understand that dragons are not simple animals driven entirely off of instinct as it appears to be the case in Earthrealm. They are monsters. Intelligent, long-lived, violent, greedy, cruel, territorial, selfish flesh-eating monsters. They are evil by the very nature of their being, unable to change by their own accord, and unwilling to change when His Eternal Majesty offered them freedom from their nature. It isn’t that they want to be evil. As intelligent animals – intelligent monsters – dragons are capable of understanding morality, and many have tried to overcome their evil nature at great expense to themselves. A well intended and noble sentiment, yet a doomed one as like all animals, they all succumb to their nature in the end. Overcoming one’s nature is impossible,” said Edhel. His eyes took on a stoic, almost remorseful gaze as he spoke, and Illunor nodded with approval.
I was appalled by this claim, not by the contents so much as how blatantly false it was. As a representative of the human race, I was a living counterexample to his whole argument. We had remained physiologically unchanged as a species since the last Ice Age, and yet in spite of that, in spite of our many flaws, we had found peace and balance. If we could do it, anyone could do it.
“Will all due respect Edhel, that is nonsense. Monsters aren’t born, they are made. It is the mark of any intelligent species can adapt their behaviour to their environment for better or worse, and under the right care any so-called monster can grow to be a force for good,” I began, but while I searched for the right words Edhel shook his head.
“I appreciate your race is an empathetic one, Emma, your idealism is unfounded. As flesh eaters, a dragon must take the life of another animal or person to survive, or they will perish. As such, every dragon has taken a life. As long-lived creatures, they will have amassed a significant number of kills. As the land can only support so much animals, a dragon must be fiercely territorial and aggressive to remove competition, lest they starve. As such, even the most kind-hearted dragon alive must be violent and greedy, and their intelligence fuels this even more so if they know a bountiful land of morsels exists just outside their range.
Now perhaps a multitude of dragons may find a way to co-exist together in some settlement, but to support such a venture would require a large territory of prey, or a livestock animal. Perhaps they could support a large colony by farming grain for their livestock, but that would require effort on their behalf. As large animals, such efforts require a great deal of energy. Yet that size makes it easy for them to intimidate smaller races to do their labour for them, and to keep their client race in line dragons must be cruel. And even so, as their numbers grow so do their needs. As such, they must expand into the lands of their neighbours to survive until there is nothing left to devour, at which point they must turn against their own lest they starve. As such, it is the nature of dragons to conquer and devour. That is why there is no such thing as an innocent dragon,” finished Edhel.
I was speechless, not because I believed Edhel had a point, but because I was horrified at how easy he found it to rationalize the extermination of an entire sapient species. If this was how the elves thought, then it wasn’t the dragons who were the monsters. I suppressed that dark thought. Edhel’s thought process was a product of his culture, not a feature of his elven heritage. If there was any hope of peace between our people, I needed to show him there was another way of being. I needed to prove that co-existence was possible, no matter one’s nature.
I took a deep breath to steady myself before replying.
“That- that is a callous way of seeing things,” I began, though the shock was still there in my voice, “you speak as though there is no natural equilibrium with a dragon, that their only state of being must be to be cruel, to devour, to conquer. But I see things differently. In fact, I might wonder if a fledgling civilization might see the presence of a dragon as a boon rather than a curse. Being intelligent, the locals may be able to come to some agreement with the dragon. Perhaps they might leave some land as a hunting ground or offer up a share of their cattle or guard the dragon as it sleeps. In exchange, the dragon might allow them to build a town outside its mountain and protect them in times of danger. An equitable exchange. A civilization might even create artificial lairs to attract dragons for this very reason. True, some dragons may behave tyrannical towards their town, but a well armed populace of a large city would be more than capable of fighting such a threat, and a rational dragon might reason that threatening their own populace would put their reliable source of food and shelter at risk. You see, it’s all a matter of perspective.”
“You certainly are an imaginative one, Emma, to wonder up a quixotic world where the hare and the fox live together in harmony as equals. Even so, you seem to have ignored one key detail to such a society. What would happen should the dragon not be fed for months on end?” Asked Edhel with his eyebrow raised.
“The same thing as stranded a dozen starving, stranded Elves!” I spat back.
[Alert: Vehicle speed above recommended limit for conditions. Recommendation: slow down. ]
“I am driving slow!” I seethed, not realizing I had sped up with manual control enabled.
“I grow tired of this common prattle,” interjected Illunor just in time to prevent an awkward silence, “bard, play us another song.” “As my lord wishes,” said Edhel with a bow before turning to me with another smile, “perhaps a more soothing melody would be in order? A love song perhaps, to honour Cadet Booker’s compassionate nature?”
I said nothing as Edhel began to strum his lute again to the tune of a love story of a pair of doomed lovers named Ramian and Junette, hating his cheeky knowing grin that only served to get under my skin further as I focused on calming down and slowing the car back to a more reasonable pace before investigating a priority alert which I had been blinded to moments prior.
[Alert: hostile roadblock is absent, location unknown.]
Shit.
“Illunor, we may have a problem,” I said.
“Shush, Newrealmer, have you no class? We are almost at the best part! I’m sure it can wait,” replied the contextually clueless lizard.
I had never wanted to throttle Illunor as much as I did now.
“Illunor, shield, now,” I said with a raised voice.
“I don’t see-“ he started, pausing mid-sentence as his ears perked up.
[Alert: Multiple manafield and spell signatures detected!]
I took evasive maneuvers as Illunor tried to piece together a shield spell, fumbling it twice as panic appeared to set in and providing me with a reminder that Illunor was a civilian, not a soldier. A hail of arrows pelted the exterior of the truck, piercing but not penetrating the composite armour. I was tempted to do nothing but just drive away from the arrow fire, but a foreboding premonition of danger filled me as I recalled Sorecar’s hunter-seeker arrows.
Seeking to avoid that fate, I triggered the active defenses.
The smoke screens deployed around the vehicle, obscuring the sight of any who depended on visible light to see me. A barrage of decoy flares equipped with wooden cores shot upward at angles and diffusing to the side like a pair of giant wings which when combined with the MFD, short for mana-field dampener, inside the vehicle meant that the pelting hail of arrowfire softened to a whirr as the arrows whiffed over the top of the truck, retargeted away from the soft flesh of my passengers and even invoking friendly fire amongst the ambushers.
In the chaos, EVI and my drone swarm fed me complete tactical information on the ambush. Of the 26 individuals at the first blockade, 20 were accounted for, and 3 had died from friendly fire. Ahead at the bridge, 5 more of them were at the bridge where a barrier had been hastily erected to cage me in as the river valley was too deep to cross.
“Illunor, we need a bridge,” I said, taking stock of the wellbeing of my passengers.
The bard was huddled down low and suppressing his manafield, but otherwise rather composed. Illunor, on the other hand, was cowering in the gap between the seats with his hands covering his eyes and his tail tucked in.
“A bridge is no small request, Ne- Cadet Emma Booker,” replied Illunor, “and your ‘Emeffdee’ has blinded me to the outside of this moving death trap.”
“If I drop it, can you at least make a ramp?” I asked as I circled the battlefield. Or tried to, at least, as earthen ramparts emerged from the ground from a yet unseen source to cut off other avenues of escape.
“A ramp? Surely you don’t mean-“ he stammered.
“Yes or no,” I said.
Illunor paused, before taking an unsteady breath.
“Yes. But not with that Emeffdee,” he replied.
“Good. Steady your nerves and prepare to make a ramp ahead of us on my signal,” I said, “in the meantime, get your seatbelt on. This is going to be hairy.”
As I circled around to make my approach on the bridge, the final combatant made his appearance on a nearby tree, revealing himself as an elven mage. An alert focused on the air around him indicating he was preparing an unknown high-tier spell, and I locked the predator drone on him indicating the elf as a high-priority target if our escape plan failed, and I was forced to use lethal force.
If I was forced to kill.
It was one thing to know you may have to kill in the line of duty, but it was much harder to reconcile that with reality. No number of simulations could match the real thing, and a part of me wanted to simply offload the responsibility to EVI to keep my hands clean, but to do that would be betraying my duty as a human being. I breathed in deep and tried not to think about it, instead hoping to rely on the ace I held in my sleeve instead.
“EVI, ready the spell jammer,” I said unevenly.
“Acknowledged, the prototype Exo-Radiation Wave-Field Distruptor is primed. High risk target identified and locked, permission to engage?” EVI asked, forcing me to address the dreaded question.
“Negative,” I replied, “hold your fire. If the ramp fails, then you have permission to engage,” I said.
“Affirmative, on your mark,” replied EVI.
I lined up the truck with the bridge and bolted through the smoke, keeping a careful eye on the mage as I went. His spellform took on a more concerning shape as I accelerated, and I realized I could not afford to let him finish his spell. I triggered the spelljammer.
A terrible roar erupted from an array of speakers printed from mana-resistant materials that would have made Godzilla herself beam with pride. The sound was decidedly unnatural, gnarly, dubstep drop composed of an electric eel, a whale, a mountain lion, and a tyrannosaurus rex all being simultaneously assaulted by a swarm of angry cybernetic murder hornets as an equally chaotic wave of mana blasted outwards from the exterior of the truck, with the interior thankfully sheltered by audio and mana dampening.
The ambushing assailants cowered and panicked, and it was enough to cause the Elven mage’s spell to backfire in his face as his form exploded into ashes, meeting a horrific fate which I had tried so desperately to help him avoid. With all the combatants momentarily incapacitated or dead, I lowered the dampener and turned off the smoke.
“Ramp!” I shouted, snapping the lizard back to reality.
The Venerian nodded and hastily formed an earthwork ahead of us right before the blockade, and the truck leapt off the ramp with a not insignificant amount of air beneath our wheels. I braced for impact, regretting skimping on the shocks in the name of preserving materials, but the impact never came.
[Alert: Friendly spell designated ‘Feather Fall’]
Illunor thankfully had enough wherewithal to gently land the steel brick, and I sped off into the distance away from the trap that had unfolded behind us, leaving the interior of the truck in an awkward silence as we each processed our brush with death in our own way. “How many are dead?” I asked EVI.
“6 hostiles confirmed dead,” replied EVI.
I drove on in silence. Those were six deaths I had tried to avoid, and I became lost in thought as I wondered what I should have done differently to avoid the confrontation entirely.
Edhel broke the silence with a bout of laughter.
“Terrific! Absolutely terrific! Why, I can conjure up many a tale from this encounter alone! I live for this kind of inspiration!” Exclaimed Edhel a little too chipperly considering the circumstance.
“I would rather not hear stories about how I bravely ran away,” I moaned in deadpan sarcasm.
“You think too little of yourself, Cadet Emma Booker. It is plain to me that you are no ordinary rabbit. Make no mistake, I see it as a privilege to bear witness to the roar of a vorpal hare!” Said Edhel as he supressed his laughter, “though I am afraid with all the excitement that I must finish my song some other time.”
“How about I play some of our music?” I offered after the elf revealed his thrill-seeking side.
“Splendid, I would like that. Perhaps something of your ‘Roadtrip playlist’ you speak of? It sounds like a collection of your voyages,” said Edhel.
“That would be an improvement on the truth,” said Illunor dismissively as he eased from his state of shock, “it is little more than noise under the pretense of music.”
“Illunor…” I muttered to myself before turning the mic on, “no, no it’s not like that. I have terabytes of pre-recorded songs from various artists back home which can be played by… an artifice called a speaker. A playlist is a set of songs which are grouped together, usually to listen to in specific situations such as studying, partying, or travelling. The latter collection is what Illunor is referring to.”
I very deliberately chose not to reveal my ‘Unfortunate Daughters’ playlist.
“An artifice which plays music, and a magicless one at that. I must say, Emma, I fear for the bards in your realm,” said Edhel with a laugh.
“Your fear is misplaced, Edhel. Entertainers live like kings where I come from,” I retorted with a smirk of my own, “well, the ones with talent at least.”
“Well, well, I suppose I have to hear my competition!” Said Edhel with a laugh.
“Do as you must, though let it be known that I warned you,” said Illunor as he watched a play on his sightseer.
I had EVI compile a list of songs that left out content offensive to Nexian sensibilities or violating OpSec and as it compiled I mused over what type of sample spread I wanted to show off. Then it struck me. What better way to show off our culture than with some good old blue jumpers and nova rock! Sadly, jumpers were unavailable to show but I still had a whole list of modern artists to choose from.
Moments later, the car speakers sprung to life to the tune of ‘Innocent Youth of Mine. Edhel’s eyes lit up like a child visiting a zero-g gravity park for the first time, seemingly star-struck by the antique electric guitar and the synthesizer-drums in particular.
“What… what is this? I have never heard anything like this!” Proclaimed Edhel.
“Dreadful, isn’t it?” said Illunor, doing what he did best and pretending to hate it.
“Oh there is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own, “this one is called ‘Innocent Youth of Mine’ by ‘Cannons and Poppies’. It’s part of the Nova Rock genre.
“And those strange instruments?” Asked Edhel.
“Oh, you mean the electric guitar and the synthesizer. They are electronic instruments, taking advantage of channeled and modulated electricity to create near any sound we can imagine,” I replied.
“Channeled electricity… are you suggesting these sounds were made by some form of lightning?” Asked Edhel.
[Suggestion: Avoid topic of electricity due to OpSec risk]
I nodded at EVI’s warning, thankful that it caught me before I discussed the very thing that all of my equipment ran on.
“It’s not exactly lightning, but close enough,” I said.
“If I had not witnessed to your display of power earlier, I might have perhaps been more skeptical of such a claim, but I suppose a lady must keep her secrets.” said Edhel with a raised eyebrow and chuckle, “but I digress, this music is most interesting.”
“There is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own.
“If I ever have a prisoner in need of torture, I will turn to you first,” replied Illunor, “if you are willing to subject your peers to this madness then I cannot imagine what you would force upon your enemies before dunking them in ice.”
“In your dreams,” I retorted.
I played a few other songs including Astrodesee’s ‘Meteor Struck’, the Martian classic ‘Hotel Cydonia’ and even ‘Switching to Warp’ before Elaseer emerged from the distance, and I pulled up outside the gate to drop Edhel off.
“Here already?” Asked Edhel.
“Well, yeah. I was just running a quick errand, I didn’t want to go too far,” I replied casually.
“That was a distance worth at least five days of walking by foot, and you call that a ‘quick errand’?” Asked Edhel. I shrugged, and he laughed.
“Well in any case, thank you for allowing me passage in your car. I must apologize for my lack of gift or payment…” said Edhel. “Don’t worry about it, it was on the way,” I replied.
“I see, how generous. Perhaps we might one day meet again?” Asked Edhel.
“Maybe, but I’m not sure how likely that is. The academy takes up most of my time,” I replied, “though you never know. I still have a lot of quest hours to complete.”
“Is that so? In that case, I hope we meet again! Goodbye Cadet Emma Booker and farewell Lord Illunor Rularia,” he said. “And good travels to you, bard,” said Illunor.
I waved off Edhel and drove back to the academy, Illunor still sulking in the back seat.
“Perhaps next time, you should steer us away from danger?” Suggested Illunor.
“I tried, but we were tracked,” I replied.
I groaned inwardly at the additional work needed to fix the truck. EVI compiled a list of upgrades for future engagements, batting away my idea for a ‘turbo mode’ and a ‘jump boost’. Though at the end of the day, meeting the bard wasn’t a complete loss. It felt good to talk to someone almost normal for once, and I hoped I met him again.
Edhel Redoehdelnif
I watched as Cadet Emma Booker’s vehicle went off into the distance, getting one last look at the Earthrealmer’s strange artifice before turning towards the gate. The voyage was an exotic experience, not unlike that of a fever dream or a peak into a world completely alien to my own. Indeed, it was a struggle to contain my excitement and enthusiasm and process the experience rationally as I made my way through the southern gates of Elaseer and turned the corner of an alley before entering an impossible structure that did not exist.
“You are earlier than expected,” said the shadowy figure of my handler as I made my way to the meeting hall.
“The Earthrealmer’s means of transportation proved far more expedient than anticipated, my lord” I spoke as I knelt before him, “even with her unexpected departure from the anticipated road and the ambush we traveled for scantly more than an hour.”
“Yes, I will require a full report from you. Perhaps you can shed some light on the ‘smoke dragon’ my men claim intervened on the Earthrealmer’s behalf,” said my handler.
“Smoke Dragon, my lord?” I asked.
My handler responded by activating his sight-seer, revealing how the ambush had appeared from the outside. The Earthrealmer’s uncanny artifice traversed down the road, a pair of manafields displaying proudly from within until the archers began their assault. The artifice then transformed as smoke billowed out from its pores and wings sprung forth above until it was the form of a mighty wrym with a pair of glowing eyes springing forth from its ever extending head where it then gave forth a terrible unholy roar which sent waves of mana outward. The mage working to seal the area and trap their mark vapourized in an instant as his spell backfired. It was apparent to Edhel that his exceptional experience in the carriage was merely a muted rendition of the events unfolding around them.
It would seem the hare had the shadow of a dragon.
“I do have some insight, though I must confess the Earthrealmer did very little in the way of direct action. I suspect she has some unseen means of commanding and scrying through her artifices,” I said, “one which does not utilize magic as we know it.”
“Such a statement is heresy,” said my handler, “but such special circumstances are your reason for being. I will require you submit your memories for verification. What is your appraisal of the new realmer?”
“The girl is far more dangerous than a surface appraisal would suggest, though she prefers to conceal that power rather than utilize it out of a misplaced sense of compassion. Her people appear to have a boundless creative drive through which such artifices are birthed, though again it is misdirected towards more common applications. I believe that if properly tamed, this human animal may provide us with great works of art,” I said with a bow.
“I see. Does the girl know you work for us?” Asked my handler.
“She may harbour some suspicions, though did not voice them outright beyond concealing her knowledge,” I said, “though nothing significant. Provided our next meet is under believable circumstances such as a festival she should view me as cordial.”
“She has indeed proven clever,” conceded my handler, “very well, I will make arrangements for your paths to cross again. Perhaps I will arrange for her to be a contestant at the next inter-academy tournament. In the mean time, prepare your report and don’t wander far. This is a priority assignment.”
“As you wish, my lord,” I said with a bow and a smile.
Emma Booker had proved to be an interesting animal indeed, and I hoped our paths crossed again.

First of all, I would like to say THANK YOU to all of you that showed so much love to my first post ever in Reddit!
Since my girl Millie got too much hate for wearing white and ruining the best photo of the wedding, I decided to write her sad story and share it with all of you. It's a LONG tale, full of ups and mostly downs (TLDR at the end of the post). Sooo, grab some cookies and popcorn while I spill the tea ;)
******WARNING******** The story features what I believe to be unsettling content (pregnancy loss) for some. It's hidden as spoiler, so please don't click it if it's a sensitive issue for you. <3
Our story starts with poor young adult who shall not be named (because I don't remember her name). God (me) had big plans and challenges for her, as she started with 0 simoleons in an off the grid island, with hopes of her becoming a millionaire. She moved in the big island without money, a place to sleep, a toilet, nothing. The challenge goes like this: raise money from beachcombing, buy a towel to sleep on, buy a bush to pee in, snorkel, plant and build a life from zero. And, under no circumstances communicate with another sim.
This challenge was too difficult. The loneliness and hardships, the struggle to just survive and find food, led this young girl to her death by drowning in the middle of the ocean. It was too soon, so God decided to try this challenge again, giving the new sim a head start.
That leads us to the protagonist of the story, Millie Carson.
Millie Carson is a young adult who moved in the same island, like a castaway. All she found on that island was a towel, some planted trees, a toilet bush and a grave.
The ghost from the grave came often to haunt and tease her and finally became her enemy.
At first, young Millie tried to stay away from other sims but, since they kept coming and visiting, God decided that it was ok for her to have some friends.
Millie's neighbors were Miki and Ali, a happy couple with two babies. They kept visiting and bringing food to their poor young neighbor, since she was struggling so much. Millie grew close with Ali, who came swimming to her island sometimes.
Meanwhile, Millie learned some skills that earned her some money and food. She became really good at fitness, gardening and fishing. Little by little, she earned enough money to buy diving supplies and took up some diving photography and treasure hunting. All those helped her build a tiny wood home which finally had a toilet and a shower and even a fridge. Life was getting better for Millie, until she started having feelings for her married neighbor...
Millie was attracted to Ali: his long blond hair, his green eyes and dark skin. To her surprise, Ali was interested in her as well. She tried to fight it but it was over her own power to resist. They made sweet woohoo and became a couple, while he was still married with two kids.
Love makes you do stupid things and that's what happened to Millie. She fell in love with a married man and, surprise surprise, she got pregnant with his kid.
While on her 1st trimester, she visited her neighbolover's home to tell him the news. His wife, Miki, opened the door and the sight was unbelievable: She was pregnant as well, on her 3rd trimester. Millie chatted with Miki as nothing was wrong and even socialized with her kids for a bit. But it was now time for Ali to learn the truth. Millie pulled him aside and told him everything.
To her surprise, Ali was content with being a parent to their child. Millie felt his support and fell even harder for him, causing her to do the unthinkable: Woohoo with him all over his tiny house while his wife and two kids were inside! They woohood EVERYWHERE: The small single bed, the kitchen sink, the counters, standing... They almost got caught by Miki, but hopefully she was so pregnant that it took her an eternity to reach the woohoo spot.
Millie started thinking about their future. Tormented by her jealousy, she asked Ali about Miki. Miki's super pregnant belly was an indicator that Ali still loves and woohoos with his wife, two-timing both women. To her dismay, Ali confessed his love about Miki, but he was willing to keep his relationship with Millie. But that wasn't enough for Millie...
Without hesitation, Millie served Ali an ultimatum: It's her or Miki. No love triangles, no hiding. Her kid needed a father and she needed support as a poor young woman. All those pregnancy hormones made her unreasonable - she came between a happy couple and now she felt that her lover's wife stole him from her, even though they were already together! The irony!
Millie couldn't get over her feelings, so she invited Miki over and told her EVERYTHING. That she was pregnant. That the father was poor Miki's husband. Miki got even yelled at for sleeping with her own husband. Millie was out of control.
Like a tsunami, a force that couldn't be stopped, Millie called over Ali and told him to break it off with his wife. It was now or never. Ali did as told and suddenly Miki broke down crying, hating life and those two who ruined it.
Eventually, Miki left and the.. happy couple were finally alone. Millie asked Ali to move in and he gladly accepted. He even proposed and they stayed engaged until after their baby girl, Angelique, was born.
Meanwhile, even though Miki was hating them, she still came over with extra food like a good neighbor. But her relations with the couple never improved much.
The happy couple decided to get married. Millie wore a pretty but simple boho white dress, hair down and golden jewelry. But her joyful smile was the prettiest jewel she could wear. It was a lovely, quiet wedding on the seashore, during sunset.
Soon after, Millie got pregnant again but wasn't ready or happy for it. Unfortunately, there were some complications with the pregnancy and baby Donovan was born dead. They buried him under a lemon tree and cried for many seasons about him.
Ali started helping Millie with gardening, fishing and diving. But his dream was to finally earn his degree in Communications. He still had 3 classes to pass and then he could enter the PR world. He soon earned his degree with a low to medium score and was ready to start working. There was a huge problem, though...
The island was off the grid and he could not apply for the job, not use the very much needed internet. A decision had to be made: Should they live on this island forever, living off the land, or they should move somewhere else and follow Millie's dream to become millionaires?
The choice was easy. The couple moved to Finchwick, in a big cottage house with a big garden, front and back. They brought with them the plants they had gardened with so much love and also bought some chickens. Life was good for a while, baby Angelique was growing but woohoo life was... fine.
Ali found a job in PR and had to work all day, even from home. He had to polish his charisma and writing skills and meet new people. So, that made Millie a stay at home mom, a gardener, a housekeeper. But there was no time for her lifestyle needs: outdoor living and working out. She became frustrated and was always in a bad and uncomfortable mood. She had gained a lot of weight from her pregnancy, she hardly recognized herself in the mirror...All this bad mood made her cranky. Everytime Ali tried to woohoo with her, she had no drive. So, their love life went down the drain...
Meanwhile, Ali was doing great at work, earning at least 2000 simoleons per day. He had met many people, and one of them became a really good friend of his. His name was Gabriel and he was thin, with black short hair, dark skin and modern makeup.
Ali was tormented by his feelings when he hang out with Gabriel. He couldn't understand how a man can be attracted to another guy like that. He was open to the idea, but had never acted upon it. It wasn't the looks - Gabriel was pretty basic. But there was something about the both of them that made him feel... amazing. The attention he got from Gabriel, the friendship.. It was like they knew each other from another lifetime.
Every time Gabriel came over, Ali got excited. He was interested in his words and inner world, not only his appearance. One night, he couldn't take it anymore. While they were talking the backyard table, Ali started flirting with Gabriel. Things got heated fast and they shared the most beautiful first kiss. That was exactly what he always wanted to feel, but was missing from his other relationships. He proposed to have woohoo in the home office, while Millie and Angelique were sleeping unaware upstairs...
They woohood hard and many times. It was a total WoohooFest. Morning came and Ali, having not slept at all, got ready to go to work. He didn't forget to kiss his wife goodbye, but he spent the entire day thinking about Gabriel. By night, he had decided to ask Gabriel to become his boyfriend.
Millie on the other side, was getting better. She bought a walking machine and she often went swimming in the river. Her woohoo drive was coming back strong and that meant more time with her beloved husband. They started woohooing more often, but Ali was also missing Gabriel...
God suddenly had an idea! Ali should ask Millie to have expanded woohoo with someone else, and that someone else couldn't be other than (yes, you guessed it) Gabriel. Ali went on and asked his wife and God told her that yes, it would be fun! So, unaware of God and her husband's plans, she happily accepted to engage in multiple sim woohoo...
Ali was so excited! He couldn't believe his ears! He immediately called over Gabriel and explained the situation. Gabriel accepted as well and it was time for Gabriel to meet with Millie. Millie tried to get to know him but for some reason he was distant. She tried to flirt with him but he didn't reciprocate. Millie got embarrassed and locked herself in her room for some time, to recollect herself. It shouldn't be so hard, right?
At the same time, Ali made his move on Gabriel and they woohood. Gabriel was more than excited to get together with Ali. So, why not Millie?
After Millie got over her embarrassment, she came out the room. Ali proposed having multiple woohoo and they did it. Everyone had a pleasant time.
After that, they got together two more times. But, the last time, at Gabriel's house, was the final blow.
Millie kept trying to flirt alone with Gabriel, not getting the message but, DUDE. He was NOT into her. It was heartbreaking. She tried so hard for her husband, her self esteem and again, she was turned down. A second choice. She didn't deserve it. And then, she though about it. The flirt between Ali and Gabriel. How they would have woohoo, the three of them, but Gabriel was rejecting her. It was time for answers...
Millie first told Ali to end the expanded woohoo agreement. It was too much for her. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed. And then, she asked the million dollar question: "What's going on between you two?". Ali tried to hide it, told her they were only friends. But God was starting to feel bad about poor Millie, so had her ask again: "WHAT'S GOING ON BETWEEN YOU TWO?"
The answer was like a knife, going through her heart. Ali loved Gabriel and that's all she needed to know. Their woohoo life was non existent before and now had found someone who made him feel better, more... alive! That's all Millie needed to know. She went over to Gabriel and try to make a last, desperate woohoo pass at him. Once more, he rejected her. It was all so clear. She was the third wheel.
Her ego and her heart were stomped on the ground, like a cockroach. A beautiful, kind, hard working sim shouldn't go through all that. She headed back home, to the privacy of her bedroom and cried her eyeballs out. Ali didn't come home that night and went straight to work.
The next day, Millie invited Gabriel over. Oooh no, she wouldn't let him have Ali so easily. She would humiliate him first. He came over and she started yelling at him. Her face was red and hot, she was fueled by rage. She ending up giving him the beating of his life. When Ali came home from work, both his lovers were black and blue from fighting.
Baby Angelique started crying. She had woken up. Millie rushed upstairs to help her toddler with her needs, but Ali and Gabriel stayed downstairs. Ali tried to comfort Gabriel, asking him to stay. He didn't care about his marriage anymore. God led them to the hall upstairs, outside the bedrooms. They started woohooing again, right there, like animals!
Poor Millie, as she opened her daughter's bedroom's door, she caught her cheater husband in the act! THE AUDACITY!!! And if it that wasn't enough, when she went over to slap him, he acted like she wasn't there and went to woohoo in the shower with his boyfriend - AGAIN! WTH!!!
At this point, Millie knew it was time to give Ali the boot and kick him the hell out of their home, and so she did. After Ali's lover left, the married couple had a long, heated conversation that only had one outcome - Ali had to move out immediately.
So, he left and rented a one-bedroom apartment in the city. He also decided to ask Gabriel to live with him, and Gabriel happily accepted. A new chapter started for Ali but unresolved things were left in the middle with his wife that needed to be dealt with.
While all these took place, Millie had gotten close with celebrity Rahul Chopra. They became good friends and she was invited to his wedding. It was a one of a kind event because Rahul had a shotgun wedding with his wife when they were teenagers due to unwanted pregnancy. After many kids later, Rahul's eldest daughter, with the villainous valentine aspiration (long story) decided to break her eternally faithful parents up for fun. So they did break up, but they were so made for each other, like puzzle pieces, that it was impossible to not end up together again.
Rahul fell back in love with his wife and they decided to do it right this time. They planned the perfect wedding event in San Myshuno's park, during sunset. The whole family was there and their 2nd child, Philip (YA) would take the professional pictures of the wedding.
The ceremony started, everyone (almost) was seated and the photographer (and me) were preoccupied with taking the happy couples pictures. As the ceremony ended, the couple was ready to share their first kiss as husband and wife. The air was filled with confetti that floated playfully around them, the fireworks were set off behing them and the sun was showering them with the warmest rays. It was a one time opportunity to get the perfect picture. Philip got ready to press click. And then, she appeared.
Millie, clearly bothered and heartbroken by other people's love, made a run for the exit and ruined Philip's perfect photograph. The angry look on her face would forever haunt Philip's mind. Why would that woman ruin this happy moment and why the hell would she wear white at someone's wedding? I mean, you wouldn't mistake her for the bride, who wore an expensive wedding gown, but still... Something was wrong with this girl and Philip had to find out...
After the wedding, Millie went back home. The days passed and the divorce was not finalized. She asked her kid who she wanted to stay with, but without reply. She called Ali over, but he texted back he didn't want to come over. Millie had her -now child- daughter call over her dad. This time, Ali responded positively and soon after he arrived. Millie took him straight to the lawyers to see who will get custody of Angelique.
This time, God had no plans, God left it all to luck. So, unfortunately, Ali won custody of Angelique, who immediately went to live with him. Now, Millie was alone. Only her and her money and her baby son's grave in the front yard. Now she was angry, NOW HE WOULD PAY.
Millie grabbed Ali and went once again to the lawyers. It was now time to split the estate. At least 100k simoleons in the bank, plus whatever the house is worth. Millie wants to get everything, but once again, God won't interfere. She comes back home, head down, beaten - she lost 80k.
She turns to her new friend, Philip. He is basic, but he's a good guy. He lives alone in an apartment in San Myshuno, studies Fine Arts in university, comes from a good family. He also has a girlfriend that lives across the hall from him, but Millie doesn't know. And God tells her to come onto him. Now Philip has two girlfriends and God must interfere.
God and luck are playing games with Millie's life.
As I'm writing her story, there's only one thing I feel: Sad.
This girl started out with hopes and dreams. So I think that we should forgive her for attending a friend's wedding wearing white. Some God forgot to change her formal outfit and it was all she had to wear. She's going through a lot!
Her story ends for now, but if you guys like it I might write more about her life's adventures.
Also, what should she do with Philip? Let me know in the comments!
If you read this whole essay / story , you are amazing! And thanks! Hope you liked it! :)
TLDR: YA woman starts with 0 money in off the grid island. Wants to earn a million. Gets pregnant by married neighbor with kids. Marries him and they buy new home. They get pregnant second time, lose the baby.He gets a good job, meets new people, gets new guy friend, has woohoo with that friend. The 3 of them have expanded woohoo. Woman breaks it off. Woman confronts husband about loving other man, he confesses he loves him. Woman kicks him out and he lives alone in flat. The other guy moves in with him. Woman heartbroken, goes to friends wedding wearing white, is angry at happy couple's love, ruins the married couple kiss photo. Photo becomes famous on Reddit. Woman loses custody of only child. Woman loses 80k simoleons after splitting estate. Woman becomes girlfriend of the photographer from the friend's wedding. Photographer already has another girlfriend.
*****EDIT*********** I can't believe I forgot to write this, but Millie also drowned in the ocean while being fatigued from diving for treasures. I decided to not save and give her a second chance. Her life is dramatic, UUUUUUGH!!!!

In today’s evolving and competitive landscape, the value of innovation is shifting from the traditional closed systems approach to a more open, decentralized, and community-driven approach. Paul Lalovich and Tesha Teshanovich from Agile Dynamics outline what is driving the trend, its implications for organizations, and how leaders can successfully operate at the forefront of the shift.
Innovation transcends the mere conceptualization of fresh ideas; it is the actionable process of enhancing existing products or conjuring entirely new offerings. While there is a strong correlation between R&D and innovation – with the former serving as a wellspring for pioneering thoughts – the journey from groundbreaking research to practical utility can be intricate and protracted.
However, it’s worth noting that innovation isn't solely tethered to structured R&D. It can spontaneously arise from sheer curiosity, a spark of inspiration, or even the simple act of refining or tweaking existing methodologies.
Firms might invest in R&D to catalyze innovation, but they can also harness external advancements – referred to as ‘spillovers’. After all, groundbreaking knowledge isn't always the exclusive domain of its creators, making external inspirations invaluable.
Emerging from a robust foundation of innovation, soft power presents tangible advantages. Leaders in technology often establish benchmarks that others deem beneficial to adopt. As a result, global standards lean favorably toward those pioneers. Moreover, countries recognized for their innovative acumen become prime territories for patent filings. These innovation hubs magnetize not just domestic but international investments and capital.
Perhaps the most profound testament to their soft power is the allure they hold for top-tier talents. For instance, Silicon Valley has evolved into a global nexus, drawing in exceptional minds from the realms of information, communication, and digital technologies. Such concentrations of talent can significantly influence a nation’s trade dynamics.

Tech monopolies slow down innovation

In the arena of global economic dominance, competition emerges as the cornerstone, propelling nations to the forefront of innovation and growth. While Chinese strategies appear to have adapted, embracing the dynamism of competitive markets, the United States stands at a crossroads. Some of its tech behemoths promote their size and market leadership as pivotal for cutting-edge innovation.
Yet, it is crucial to discern the nature of this innovation and whose interests it truly serves. Does it prioritize shareholder returns, or is there a broader, national interest at play? As smaller, agile firms emerge, emphasizing true boundary-pushing innovation, one must ponder: Is the spirit of unbridled competition – a force that once fueled the American economy – being overshadowed by the looming giants?
In the nuanced interplay between governmental oversight and market forces, recent actions within China's technology sector provide a captivating study of regulatory boundaries. This phenomenon, aptly termed ‘de-tycoonification’, captures a deliberate effort to harmonize enterprise innovation with centralized checks.
A leading digital commerce platform in China encountered regulatory attention. The swift determination that its practices were anti-competitive, accompanied by a significant financial penalty, symbolizes a broader intent to redefine market paradigms. Prompt official communique following these events conveys a clear perspective: monopolistic behaviours can inhibit the holistic evolution of a market-based economy.
This stance also emphasizes that thoughtful regulations, rather than restricting growth, might actually serve as pillars to stabilize and nurture it. The regulatory web further ensnared another major digital entity in China, underscoring the principle that technological ingenuity should operate within established ethical and legal frameworks. Such internal checks within China challenge certain dominant narratives in global tech centres.
The notion that maintaining a robust market stature acts as a shield against global tech adversaries comes under scrutiny. The introspective regulatory steps within China necessitate a broader re-evaluation of such assumptions.
The tech landscape today is unmistakably marked by the towering presence of Big Tech, but what underlies this dominance might point towards a concerning reduction in competitive intensity. For two decades, the profits raked in by American tech behemoths have remained unparalleled, with market valuations suggesting this trend is expected to continue, if not amplify, in the coming years.
Such sustained, sky-high profitability isn't typical in a genuinely competitive market. In such a setting, rivals and newcomers usually exert downward pressures, ensuring no single entity retains an overwhelming edge for extended periods. The tech industry's trajectory further points towards a rising penchant for consolidation. This is evidenced by the substantial acquisitions of budding companies by the tech titans.
Data sourced from Mergermarket underscores an uptick in acquisition activity by these colossal tech firms, particularly post-2010. The symbiotic relationship between persistent high profits and a trend toward industry concentration suggests that the tech market might be veering away from the vibrant competitive arena it once was.

Cardwell’s law

The tech landscape’s evolution, in its relationship with innovation, is witnessing a palpable shift in entrepreneurial motivation and vision. Historically, the fervour of pioneering something transformative, encapsulated in the ‘moonshot thinking’, drove entrepreneurs. This audacious spirit envisioned groundbreaking entities akin to the tech luminaries of the late 20th and early 21st century. Yet, today’s entrepreneurial aspirations seem more tempered.
Instead of fostering ambitions of building the next revolutionary tech empire, there’s a growing inclination towards securing an acquisition by an existing tech colossus. This shift in sentiment dims the likelihood of a new tech juggernaut rising to challenge the incumbent titans. Post the era of computer-centric, web-driven, and smartphone-related innovations, a cloud of uncertainty looms over the emergence of new tech powerhouses.
Notably, the promising technological domains of the upcoming decade – be it autonomous vehicles with their exorbitant R&D costs, virtual or augmented reality's significant development expenditures, the data intensity of artificial intelligence, or drones and the Internet of Things with their challenging profit margins – present formidable entry barriers.
These hurdles, combined with a changing entrepreneurial landscape, cast a shadow on the future dynamism of tech innovation. Cardwell's elucidation on the patterns of technological evolution offers a poignant lens through which to view the current landscape dominated by Big Tech.
Donald Stephen Lowell Cardwell’s seminal work from 1972 suggests that technological vigor within societies is not an enduring flame, but a fleeting burst of brilliance. Within the European context, as one nation's innovative energy began to wane, another would rise, ensuring a consistent relay of progress across the continent.
Visualize this relay of innovation as a torch, brilliant yet intense. Historically, regions such as Northern Italy, Southern Germany, Spain, and Portugal, and later Holland, Britain, the United States, and Germany, took turns in holding this torch, leading the march of innovation. Yet, no single society clung to this leadership for extended durations. The relay ensured that as one nation's innovation diminished, another took up the mantle, propelling the collective forward.
This phenomenon, coined as ‘Cardwell’s Law’ by Joel Mokyr, posits that when left in isolation, a society’s technological creativity is but a brief spark. Over time, conservatism’s stifling grip, intent on preserving existing structures of power and privilege, often curtails this innovative drive.
This is where the analogy becomes particularly relevant for the Big Tech landscape. In today’s digital age, a few colossal entities dominate, much like the leading nations of old Europe. Yet, as these tech giants solidify their positions, they risk becoming victims of the very conservatism Mokyr speaks of.
Instead of being conduits for continual innovation, their sheer dominance and entrenched positions could lead to a stagnation in technological creativity. As they grow in size and influence, there is an increasing tendency to preserve the status quo, which inadvertently suppresses the innovative spark found in smaller, more agile entities.

Decentralization and open innovation

In the contemporary milieu characterized by the overwhelming dominance of Big Tech monopolies, the paradigms of decentralized innovation and open innovation emerge as potentially transformative alternatives.
The concept of distributed strategy borrows from nature, suggesting that in the same manner that organisms such as trees maximize their efficiency by creating multiple self-similar structures like leaves instead of solely relying on a single core trunk, businesses too need to shift their focus from purely scaling their core processes to nurturing multiple iterative strategies at the organizational peripheries. This can be encapsulated in the mantra of ‘Think Local, Act Global’.
In essence, companies must attune to the nuanced demands and opportunities of each local market, while simultaneously integrating these learnings into a broader global strategy. This is particularly evident in industries undergoing rapid transformation; for instance, the automotive industry's evolution from merely selling cars to offering comprehensive mobility solutions, a shift that is predicted to significantly alter its revenue structure by 2035.
In parallel, in our data-driven age, there is an increasing realization that the sheer volume of data is less crucial than its meaningful interpretation. Organizations need to pivot from prioritizing data accumulation to developing advanced algorithms capable of drawing insights from fragmented, patchy datasets. In the rapidly shifting landscape of today's global business environment, numerous established multinational corporations find themselves at a perplexing crossroads.
The crux of their predicament stems from a foundational dilemma: how to juxtapose traditional scale-driven strategies with the emergent imperative of Distributed strategies. To dissect this conundrum, one must appreciate the inherently divergent organizational philosophies underpinning scale and distributed strategies. Transitioning from a scale-centric model to a distributed-oriented one is not merely about implementing a series of organizational modifications, no matter how profound.
The shift demands a comprehensive reimagining of the organizational ethos and operational mechanics. Moreover, it is a fallacy to view these strategies as mutually exclusive. In actuality, they exist on a continuum, each holding its unique value. The challenge for modern enterprises lies in striking an optimal balance between harnessing the benefits of scale and the agility of Distributed strategies. Regrettably, the journey to this equilibrium is riddled with pitfalls, and many companies, even with their vast resources and global reach, have faltered in this endeavor.
Contrary to scale-centric entities that depend on static assets, with streamlined yet inherently slower supply chains, Distributed organizations harness networks characterized by adaptability and continuous transformation. These networks are primed for swiftly addressing specific local requirements and seizing niche market prospects.
Such frameworks incorporate a blend of proprietary micro-production facilities, possibly utilizing innovations like 3D printing; leasing assets from providers offering asset-on-demand services; and coordinating flexible ecosystems of regional digital collaborators. The overarching aim is twofold: continuously devise innovative solutions tailored for local clientele and escalate them to various markets with optimal speed.
Distributed-oriented organizations prioritize decentralization, contrasting with the top-down hierarchies commonly seen in scale-driven entities. Within these structures, decision-making isn't confined to a centralized corporate core. Instead, considerable authority is delegated to customer-centric teams positioned away from the primary headquarters. This design fosters agility, allowing for a rapid response to localized demands and new opportunities.
Some multinational corporations have observed marked improvements in their performance metrics after such decentralization. They empowered regional leaders with financial oversight, decision-making rights, streamlined communication channels to the central office, and enhanced access to market analytics.
Another trend, seen in the case of an appliance industry giant, involves an even more radical shift. This entity introduced a unique organizational framework aimed at minimizing the distance between the enterprise and its customer base. In a bold move, an entire level of middle management was eliminated, redistributing power to numerous newly-formed, semi-independent, customer-aligned business segments. These units operate in synergy, linked by a unified digital platform.
Further reading: Knowledge and venture capital as a driver of innovation.
Meanwhile, ‘Open Innovation’ offers a complementary model, championing a departure from insular corporate research and development approaches. Instead, it advocates for the amalgamation of external insights, be they from academia, startups, or independent innovators, into the innovation process. This synergistic approach addresses the often-criticized inertia inherent in large tech monopolies, promoting a more dynamic and collaborative innovation ecosystem.
Both these paradigms, however, necessitate a significant cultural shift within organizations, demanding a more flexible, adaptive, and outward-looking ethos to truly harness their potential in countering the inertia often associated with tech giants.
The rise of open innovation, propelled by reduced communication costs and advancements in memory and computation capabilities, has ushered in significant changes in market dynamics and societal interactions. Unlike the traditionally centralized, firm-driven innovation models, open innovation champions a decentralized, peer-based approach that emphasizes intrinsic motivation and societal benefits.
Indeed, the literature has delved into the nature of these peer innovation communities, understanding their social structures and intricacies.
However, the repercussions of this shift towards open innovation on established and emerging firms remain inadequately explored. Current organizational and strategic theories don't fully encapsulate the nuances of community-driven innovation. Despite the transformative potential of open innovation, its influence on mainstream organizational and strategic discourses has been somewhat muted.
As we progress, it becomes imperative to develop a more comprehensive understanding of firms in this new context, addressing the interaction between traditional organizational structures and emerging community-based innovation paradigms.

Conclusion

In an evolving landscape where tasks are increasingly modular and knowledge about solutions becomes more widespread, the traditional closed systems of innovation shift towards open, community-driven models. The implications are profound: we can no longer rely solely on conventional understandings of innovation rooted in cost efficiency, control mechanisms, and external incentives.
As innovation gets embedded in a spectrum ranging from strictly internal processes to open community collaborations, our conceptualization of firms and their boundaries need revisiting. This doesn’t negate the value of traditional models, but it requires a hybrid approach where both internal and open strategies coexist.
A pivotal question arises: under what circumstances should firms toggle between these different modes of innovation? The answer, it appears, lies in understanding the nature of the product and the distribution of problem-solving knowledge.
For products that are inherently integrated and where specialized knowledge is centralized, the conventional in-house R&D model, bolstered by a strong innovation-centric culture, remains relevant. Here, innovation is typically cocooned within the firm's boundaries, spanning from distinct functional divisions to intricate, ambidextrous designs.
However, when a product can be broken down into modular components and the requisite knowledge is dispersed, the limitations of a closed innovation system become evident. In these contexts, the power dynamics of innovation are reshaped by the principles of openness, collaborative sharing, intrinsic motivation, and community engagement.
The challenge, then, for modern enterprises is to discern when to internalize and when to externalize, ensuring that they harness the best of both worlds while navigating the complex terrain of innovation.In today’s evolving and competitive landscape, the value of innovation is shifting from the traditional closed systems approach to a more open, decentralized, and community-driven approach. Paul Lalovich and Tesha Teshanovich from Agile Dynamics outline what is driving the trend, its implications for organizations, and how leaders can successfully operate at the forefront of the shift. Innovation transcends the mere conceptualization of fresh ideas; it is the actionable process of enhancing existing products or conjuring entirely new offerings. While there is a strong correlation between R&D and innovation – with the former serving as a wellspring for pioneering thoughts – the journey from groundbreaking research to practical utility can be intricate and protracted. However, it’s worth noting that innovation isn't solely tethered to structured R&D. It can spontaneously arise from sheer curiosity, a spark of inspiration, or even the simple act of refining or tweaking existing methodologies.
Firms might invest in R&D to catalyze innovation, but they can also harness external advancements – referred to as ‘spillovers’. After all, groundbreaking knowledge isn't always the exclusive domain of its creators, making external inspirations invaluable. Emerging from a robust foundation of innovation, soft power presents tangible advantages. Leaders in technology often establish benchmarks that others deem beneficial to adopt. As a result, global standards lean favorably toward those pioneers. Moreover, countries recognized for their innovative acumen become prime territories for patent filings. These innovation hubs magnetize not just domestic but international investments and capital. Perhaps the most profound testament to their soft power is the allure they hold for top-tier talents. For instance, Silicon Valley has evolved into a global nexus, drawing in exceptional minds from the realms of information, communication, and digital technologies. Such concentrations of talent can significantly influence a nation’s trade dynamics. Tech monopolies slow down innovation In the arena of global economic dominance, competition emerges as the cornerstone, propelling nations to the forefront of innovation and growth. While Chinese strategies appear to have adapted, embracing the dynamism of competitive markets, the United States stands at a crossroads. Some of its tech behemoths promote their size and market leadership as pivotal for cutting-edge innovation. Yet, it is crucial to discern the nature of this innovation and whose interests it truly serves. Does it prioritize shareholder returns, or is there a broader, national interest at play? As smaller, agile firms emerge, emphasizing true boundary-pushing innovation, one must ponder: Is the spirit of unbridled competition – a force that once fueled the American economy – being overshadowed by the looming giants? In the nuanced interplay between governmental oversight and market forces, recent actions within China's technology sector provide a captivating study of regulatory boundaries. This phenomenon, aptly termed ‘de-tycoonification’, captures a deliberate effort to harmonize enterprise innovation with centralized checks. A leading digital commerce platform in China encountered regulatory attention. The swift determination that its practices were anti-competitive, accompanied by a significant financial penalty, symbolizes a broader intent to redefine market paradigms. Prompt official communique following these events conveys a clear perspective: monopolistic behaviours can inhibit the holistic evolution of a market-based economy. This stance also emphasizes that thoughtful regulations, rather than restricting growth, might actually serve as pillars to stabilize and nurture it. The regulatory web further ensnared another major digital entity in China, underscoring the principle that technological ingenuity should operate within established ethical and legal frameworks. Such internal checks within China challenge certain dominant narratives in global tech centres. The notion that maintaining a robust market stature acts as a shield against global tech adversaries comes under scrutiny. The introspective regulatory steps within China necessitate a broader re-evaluation of such assumptions. The tech landscape today is unmistakably marked by the towering presence of Big Tech, but what underlies this dominance might point towards a concerning reduction in competitive intensity. For two decades, the profits raked in by American tech behemoths have remained unparalleled, with market valuations suggesting this trend is expected to continue, if not amplify, in the coming years. Such sustained, sky-high profitability isn't typical in a genuinely competitive market. In such a setting, rivals and newcomers usually exert downward pressures, ensuring no single entity retains an overwhelming edge for extended periods. The tech industry's trajectory further points towards a rising penchant for consolidation. This is evidenced by the substantial acquisitions of budding companies by the tech titans. Data sourced from Mergermarket underscores an uptick in acquisition activity by these colossal tech firms, particularly post-2010. The symbiotic relationship between persistent high profits and a trend toward industry concentration suggests that the tech market might be veering away from the vibrant competitive arena it once was. Cardwell’s law The tech landscape’s evolution, in its relationship with innovation, is witnessing a palpable shift in entrepreneurial motivation and vision. Historically, the fervour of pioneering something transformative, encapsulated in the ‘moonshot thinking’, drove entrepreneurs. This audacious spirit envisioned groundbreaking entities akin to the tech luminaries of the late 20th and early 21st century. Yet, today’s entrepreneurial aspirations seem more tempered. Instead of fostering ambitions of building the next revolutionary tech empire, there’s a growing inclination towards securing an acquisition by an existing tech colossus. This shift in sentiment dims the likelihood of a new tech juggernaut rising to challenge the incumbent titans. Post the era of computer-centric, web-driven, and smartphone-related innovations, a cloud of uncertainty looms over the emergence of new tech powerhouses. Notably, the promising technological domains of the upcoming decade – be it autonomous vehicles with their exorbitant R&D costs, virtual or augmented reality's significant development expenditures, the data intensity of artificial intelligence, or drones and the Internet of Things with their challenging profit margins – present formidable entry barriers. These hurdles, combined with a changing entrepreneurial landscape, cast a shadow on the future dynamism of tech innovation. Cardwell's elucidation on the patterns of technological evolution offers a poignant lens through which to view the current landscape dominated by Big Tech. Donald Stephen Lowell Cardwell’s seminal work from 1972 suggests that technological vigor within societies is not an enduring flame, but a fleeting burst of brilliance. Within the European context, as one nation's innovative energy began to wane, another would rise, ensuring a consistent relay of progress across the continent. Visualize this relay of innovation as a torch, brilliant yet intense. Historically, regions such as Northern Italy, Southern Germany, Spain, and Portugal, and later Holland, Britain, the United States, and Germany, took turns in holding this torch, leading the march of innovation. Yet, no single society clung to this leadership for extended durations. The relay ensured that as one nation's innovation diminished, another took up the mantle, propelling the collective forward. This phenomenon, coined as ‘Cardwell’s Law’ by Joel Mokyr, posits that when left in isolation, a society’s technological creativity is but a brief spark. Over time, conservatism’s stifling grip, intent on preserving existing structures of power and privilege, often curtails this innovative drive. This is where the analogy becomes particularly relevant for the Big Tech landscape. In today’s digital age, a few colossal entities dominate, much like the leading nations of old Europe. Yet, as these tech giants solidify their positions, they risk becoming victims of the very conservatism Mokyr speaks of. Instead of being conduits for continual innovation, their sheer dominance and entrenched positions could lead to a stagnation in technological creativity. As they grow in size and influence, there is an increasing tendency to preserve the status quo, which inadvertently suppresses the innovative spark found in smaller, more agile entities. Decentralization and open innovation In the contemporary milieu characterized by the overwhelming dominance of Big Tech monopolies, the paradigms of decentralized innovation and open innovation emerge as potentially transformative alternatives. The concept of distributed strategy borrows from nature, suggesting that in the same manner that organisms such as trees maximize their efficiency by creating multiple self-similar structures like leaves instead of solely relying on a single core trunk, businesses too need to shift their focus from purely scaling their core processes to nurturing multiple iterative strategies at the organizational peripheries. This can be encapsulated in the mantra of ‘Think Local, Act Global’. In essence, companies must attune to the nuanced demands and opportunities of each local market, while simultaneously integrating these learnings into a broader global strategy. This is particularly evident in industries undergoing rapid transformation; for instance, the automotive industry's evolution from merely selling cars to offering comprehensive mobility solutions, a shift that is predicted to significantly alter its revenue structure by 2035. In parallel, in our data-driven age, there is an increasing realization that the sheer volume of data is less crucial than its meaningful interpretation. Organizations need to pivot from prioritizing data accumulation to developing advanced algorithms capable of drawing insights from fragmented, patchy datasets. In the rapidly shifting landscape of today's global business environment, numerous established multinational corporations find themselves at a perplexing crossroads. The crux of their predicament stems from a foundational dilemma: how to juxtapose traditional scale-driven strategies with the emergent imperative of Distributed strategies. To dissect this conundrum, one must appreciate the inherently divergent organizational philosophies underpinning scale and distributed strategies. Transitioning from a scale-centric model to a distributed-oriented one is not merely about implementing a series of organizational modifications, no matter how profound. The shift demands a comprehensive reimagining of the organizational ethos and operational mechanics. Moreover, it is a fallacy to view these strategies as mutually exclusive. In actuality, they exist on a continuum, each holding its unique value. The challenge for modern enterprises lies in striking an optimal balance between harnessing the benefits of scale and the agility of Distributed strategies. Regrettably, the journey to this equilibrium is riddled with pitfalls, and many companies, even with their vast resources and global reach, have faltered in this endeavor. Contrary to scale-centric entities that depend on static assets, with streamlined yet inherently slower supply chains, Distributed organizations harness networks characterized by adaptability and continuous transformation. These networks are primed for swiftly addressing specific local requirements and seizing niche market prospects. Such frameworks incorporate a blend of proprietary micro-production facilities, possibly utilizing innovations like 3D printing; leasing assets from providers offering asset-on-demand services; and coordinating flexible ecosystems of regional digital collaborators. The overarching aim is twofold: continuously devise innovative solutions tailored for local clientele and escalate them to various markets with optimal speed. Distributed-oriented organizations prioritize decentralization, contrasting with the top-down hierarchies commonly seen in scale-driven entities. Within these structures, decision-making isn't confined to a centralized corporate core. Instead, considerable authority is delegated to customer-centric teams positioned away from the primary headquarters. This design fosters agility, allowing for a rapid response to localized demands and new opportunities. Some multinational corporations have observed marked improvements in their performance metrics after such decentralization. They empowered regional leaders with financial oversight, decision-making rights, streamlined communication channels to the central office, and enhanced access to market analytics. Another trend, seen in the case of an appliance industry giant, involves an even more radical shift. This entity introduced a unique organizational framework aimed at minimizing the distance between the enterprise and its customer base. In a bold move, an entire level of middle management was eliminated, redistributing power to numerous newly-formed, semi-independent, customer-aligned business segments. These units operate in synergy, linked by a unified digital platform. Further reading: Knowledge and venture capital as a driver of innovation. Meanwhile, ‘Open Innovation’ offers a complementary model, championing a departure from insular corporate research and development approaches. Instead, it advocates for the amalgamation of external insights, be they from academia, startups, or independent innovators, into the innovation process. This synergistic approach addresses the often-criticized inertia inherent in large tech monopolies, promoting a more dynamic and collaborative innovation ecosystem. Both these paradigms, however, necessitate a significant cultural shift within organizations, demanding a more flexible, adaptive, and outward-looking ethos to truly harness their potential in countering the inertia often associated with tech giants. The rise of open innovation, propelled by reduced communication costs and advancements in memory and computation capabilities, has ushered in significant changes in market dynamics and societal interactions. Unlike the traditionally centralized, firm-driven innovation models, open innovation champions a decentralized, peer-based approach that emphasizes intrinsic motivation and societal benefits. Indeed, the literature has delved into the nature of these peer innovation communities, understanding their social structures and intricacies. However, the repercussions of this shift towards open innovation on established and emerging firms remain inadequately explored. Current organizational and strategic theories don't fully encapsulate the nuances of community-driven innovation. Despite the transformative potential of open innovation, its influence on mainstream organizational and strategic discourses has been somewhat muted. As we progress, it becomes imperative to develop a more comprehensive understanding of firms in this new context, addressing the interaction between traditional organizational structures and emerging community-based innovation paradigms. Conclusion In an evolving landscape where tasks are increasingly modular and knowledge about solutions becomes more widespread, the traditional closed systems of innovation shift towards open, community-driven models. The implications are profound: we can no longer rely solely on conventional understandings of innovation rooted in cost efficiency, control mechanisms, and external incentives. As innovation gets embedded in a spectrum ranging from strictly internal processes to open community collaborations, our conceptualization of firms and their boundaries need revisiting. This doesn’t negate the value of traditional models, but it requires a hybrid approach where both internal and open strategies coexist. A pivotal question arises: under what circumstances should firms toggle between these different modes of innovation? The answer, it appears, lies in understanding the nature of the product and the distribution of problem-solving knowledge. For products that are inherently integrated and where specialized knowledge is centralized, the conventional in-house R&D model, bolstered by a strong innovation-centric culture, remains relevant. Here, innovation is typically cocooned within the firm's boundaries, spanning from distinct functional divisions to intricate, ambidextrous designs. However, when a product can be broken down into modular components and the requisite knowledge is dispersed, the limitations of a closed innovation system become evident. In these contexts, the power dynamics of innovation are reshaped by the principles of openness, collaborative sharing, intrinsic motivation, and community engagement. The challenge, then, for modern enterprises is to discern when to internalize and when to externalize, ensuring that they harness the best of both worlds while navigating the complex terrain of innovation.

OCD
This is a story about humans and animals,
In the same way a story may be about dogs and animals, cats and animals, fish and animals, bugs and animals, or birds and animals.
Snow.
All Sacrosanct could see for a million paces was snow — or were they clouds? The two began to merge at the boundaries of his sight as he stood at the peak of a national mountain. It must’ve been the tallest in town — or at least the top five.
It was a scenic landscape. A blank canvas accentuated by the unoften protrusions of mountain peaks. No trees, no birds, no plants, no animals. Only stone and snow. It was the type of serenity the usually outgoing Sacrosanct couldn’t help but be entranced by. It was an infectious zen.
He had never been this high up in the sky before — never above the clouds. Perhaps this was how the Goddess and the demon God viewed the world — or once viewed it, anyway. Blinding. Both the light that reflected off the white, and the clouds that obscured the sight. It was blinding to be a god.
The hero somehow felt that the mountain seemed familiar. If the nature of the monument was anything to go by — its dramatic shape as if it had received an earth-shattering blow against its side — this must’ve been New Amstangrad. The home of the humans.
“...Now how the hell do I get down from here?”
Before the blistering cold could begin to seep into his skin, Sacrosanct quickly activated his talent to keep himself warm. He hated the cold more than anything else, and it’d been terrible to arrive at the castle cold-ridden. The hero first began to move himself around, gaining momentum and tempo. It would be important to keep conscious amidst the blinding snow and to not fall asleep. Thankfully, it was he who found himself mysteriously atop a mountain and not anyone else.
Before he knew it, his body already began to warm up, then in an instant, his body was lit ablaze by his internal ‘passion’.
Now that he was warm and alive, he could finally begin critically processing the information he was given. Two main aspects of his current situation bothered him:
Firstly, he felt a bit younger, by around 4 or 5 years. Perhaps something had healed him from his injuries over the years, and his joints felt better than ever. The massive scar on his back stayed intact though, but then again, it was almost a part of his identity now anyways. This was one of the greatest consequences of being in the hero ‘business’; the deterioration of the body.
Day in and day out, he always worked his muscles off his bones. It must’ve been especially difficult compared to other historic heroes as he was a hero in a newly built nation under a new King. But then again, that King was his friend, June, so perhaps he had it better than he thought.
A core memory of his was when June celebrated Wundermastenn for the first time as a King. It had been an especially long and difficult year, as she rebuilt the nation from its core with the help of neighbouring kingdoms. The winter season was the only time she could relax and celebrate their achievements.
Sacrosanct still remembered her face when the mountain of presents for her was unveiled on the day of Wundermastenn. As a former thief, she must’ve never seen so many valuable items — for her to legally own. However, it was not about the value of the gifts, nor their quality or quantity. The true Wundermastenn gift was the love that June now knew she received. She no longer had to steal in the cold, unforgiving streets of Amstangrad, but now celebrated in the warm company of others, and worked to build a nation in which no one would ever have to suffer as she did.
Cold. Warm. It is vital for all creatures to be together, but sometimes, people need to be away and alone from each other. This was the first time in a while that he had the leisure to reminisce about the past. This was the first time in a while that he was alone. Alone with his thoughts. In the company of nothing but snow, Sacrosanct could finally see how much he had changed on the inside over these last few years, but on the outside, he was not much different. In the end, he was still an elf named Sacrosanct, and probably not the only one.
Secondly… why was he atop a mountain? The last memory he could conjure was of the time when he battled his greatest foe, the demon lord… Baroque — that was his name. Though to be completely honest, his true greatest foe was the old Amstangrad.
The hero supposed that the demon lord was a sort of manifestation of Amstangrad. Its fascistic qualities inspired Baroque and many others. It was a sort of intrinsic genetic disease in all sentient life, though there were many such things. Sacrosanct believed that the human evils — greed, lust, pride and such — were not human evils. Rather, they were universal evils shared by all sentient life forms. He knew best as an elf.
He believed that if dogs were smart enough, with enough time, they would also create a fascist nation. The real question would be how long they would last, and how large of an impact it would make.
It was just that kind of world. A world that encouraged dogs to eat dogs, and humans to eat humans. None were any different. Given weapons, life will kill.
And given a weapon he was. Sacrosanct had one of the greatest weapons of them all. A talent originating from the heavens, granted by the Goddess.
On that Wundermastenn day, June too was given a gift. An extraordinary gift from the kingdom of Sonosis. A weapon of mass destruction.
At the corner of his eye, he spotted a white rabbit, cleverly hiding amidst the winter snow. From the look of things, it would take hours to hike down the mountains, and like all animals, Sacrosanct had to eat somehow.
“...Well, sorry, little guy,” said Sacrosanct, “I need to return to New Amstangrad as soon as possible!”
Return to New Amstangrad… Sacrosanct had said so as if it was his second nature, but he remembered his promise to June, to never look back. He would return to his home in Championnat, and he’d reunite with his dear friend if fate willed it so.
Sacrosanct wondered if June had any plans to use the weapon, as he aimed his finger to blast it with a fire spell.
In a single moment, the heat travelled through the air, the intensity of the passion transforming all air in the way to plasma. The surrounding area became blinding as the white snow reflected the shining fireball. It was like a shooting star or a meteorite, travelling and lighting up the sky until it met its target.
However, as Sacrosanct walked to retrieve the body of the rabbit before it burned too much, the snow atop the mountain began crumbling as an avalanche began.
“Woah?!”
It seemed that a single spell was all it took to destabilize the carefully stacked snow, and soon, the hero was swept away in a torrent of white, sending him away again into another place, another time.

Location: Defense Line Husky, Datsot-3

POV: Motsotaer, Malgeir Federation Planetary Defense Force (Rank: Pack Member)
The shrieking whistle of incoming artillery shell was among the most terrifying noises known to living beings.
Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew. Boom. Boom. Boom.
But it meant you were still alive.
Pack Member Motsotaer wondered if the poor pups in the forward trenches heard them coming as the enemy high explosive pounded into their lines.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
One of their anti-aircraft concrete bunkers took a direct hit; its roof collapsed on itself with a loud crumble.
Grass Eater artillery was voluminous, destructive, but scariest of all, it was incredibly precise. Their intelligence assets in orbit knew all, saw all. Their kill chains were short. Once they saw you, they would call it in, and the remainder of your life was measured in minutes and seconds.
There was nothing vegetarian about the efficient and bloodthirsty way the long-eared Grass Eaters fought, and the numerous intelligent predator species they’d exterminated on their way to Datsot… some of those tales gave even Motsotaer nightmares.
The defenders of Datsot had no choice. No choice but to defend their homes against the psychotic enemies pounding their lines to bits. And the ones who remained had learned the hard lessons of war, either through experience earned by blood or via the process of not-so-natural selection.
Motsotaer clutched his rifle against his chest as he laid in his own shallow hole, eyes closed. If the end was going to come for him, there was nothing else he could do but huddle in his freshly-dug grave.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The blasts continued walking across the defense lines, undoubtedly killing scores of his comrades. But he accompanied each shockwave with a sigh of relief; they let him know that he was still alive. Still breathing.
One final rumble. And then there was silence across the battlefield.
Motsotaer waited a minute before he peeked out — another lesson that smart defenders of Datsot had discovered the hard way. A couple brave medics were already on the move, their shouts left and right, pulling bodies and the groaning injured alike out of the rubble aftermath of the shelling.
With a grunt, he pulled himself out of his hole, rushing towards the neighboring anti-air bunker. The concrete roof had collapsed, but he could still hear cries from the dark. He squeezed through the cluttered entrance.
It was a mess on the inside. The lights were all gone. Scattered sandbags. It smelled like blood and death, and he pushed aside the still body of a Head Pack Leader he only knew of, only to find the corpse of yet another Pack Member, her limbs sprawled in an unnatural position.
“Anyone still alive in here?” he asked in the dark as his eyes adjusted. “Hello?”
There were a series of loud coughs. “I’m here. I’m here.”
“Pack Leader Nidvid!” he shouted as he recognized the familiar shrill voice. “Keep talking! Where are you?”
“Here. I’m here. Help me up.”
As she continued to cough, he had the sense to fish a flashlight out of his pocket, fumbling around until he found the on button. As the light activated, he could see Nidvid half-buried in the dirt, her lower limbs trapped beneath some sand from the broken sandbags.
“Pack Leader!” He got onto his front paws and started digging. “Are you injured?”
“I don’t think so,” she shook her head in the dim lighting as she experimentally wriggled her legs. “Here, I think I’m loose. Help me up.”
Motsotaer grasped her under her arms, and with a heavy grunt, pulled her out of the dirt.
“Whew,” she said, checking her body again for wounds. Nidvid looked around at the other bodies splayed in the bunker. “Oh no… Head Pack Leader…”
“That was a close one. I can’t believe you lived through that!”
“Yeah, me neither… Wait a second,” Nidvid said as she began rummaging through a pile of rubble near the Head Pack Leader’s body. “The radio…”
“What are you looking for?” he asked as he aimed his flashlight towards where she was looking.
“Oh no, no, no…” her voice trailed off as she picked up the device she’d been looking for. “Our hardline communicator…” It was clearly broken from the strike, its shell perforated with a hundred holes and its connection to the landline severed. In disgust, Nidvid threw it back to the ground.
“What uh— what did you need that for?” Motsotaer asked. “Were we supposed to tell them we were being attacked?”
“No… It was— before the strike, we got a high priority order.”
“A high priority order?”
Nidvid recalled, “There’s a special platoon in our salient… We were supposed to get an important message to them!”
“Special platoon?” Motsotaer asked. “Are you okay, Nidvid?”
“Yes, yes,” the Pack leader replied, visibly distraught. “They only had a physical line to us because they’re supposed to be keeping in the dark. Emissions control or something like that so they can activate the flying machine swarm in time. They said this was life and death and our whole defense line hinges on it!”
“Emissions control? Flying machines? Pack Leader, we should get you to a medic,” he said skeptically.
“No! Motsotaer, this is important. We need to get the message to them now. They’re only a couple kilometers south from our position. If we run over to their position now, it might not yet be—”
He looked up at her face in alarm. “Run to another position? Outside the trench line?”
“Yes! We have to go!” she said, as she peeked out of the concrete bunker towards the barren zone ahead of the trenches. “Now! Before they start their offensive.”
Motsotaer began to protest, “But that’s no creature’s land. If we get spotted by their troops, we’ll be hunted down by the Grass Eaters ships in orbit…”
She was insistent, “Pack Member Motsotaer, get it together. We still have a job to do. Are you with me or are you going to sit here and die like a coward to the long-ears?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, straightening up. Death or not, he was no coward. “I mean… I’m with you.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
With a grunt, she leapt out of the trenches and jogged south, keeping to the defensive side of it for the modicum of cover it provided, and Motsotaer quickly followed. As they sprinted away from the tattered defenses, they ran into a thick tree line that hopefully provided them with some concealment from the Grass Eater ships above.
After a couple more minutes of running in the forest, Motsotaer started to tire and pant. He weighed his burning lung and how embarrassed he’d be if he complained. Luckily for his ego, Nidvid gestured for them to stop after another minute and tossed him her canteen. “Take a break before we get going.”
He chugged as much water as he could in a single swig, and returned the canteen to Nidvid. He gasped out, “How much further, Pack Leader?”
“About one more kilometer south,” she said, aiming her snout up at the treetops. “I recognize the smell of this area.”
“What’s this even about? The message… what was it?”
Nidvid exercised her limbs. “That Grass Eater artillery strike… it was to prepare for their offensive on our lines. They’ve gathered an armored division on the other side of that,” she pointed out into the barren fields beyond the trees. “We have an hour at most before they roll over us.”
“An armored division?!” Motsotaer squeaked. The enemy’s Longclaws — their armored vehicles — were legendary. They could kill from kilometers away. And their thick shells protected them against all but the most powerful artillery in the Federation’s arsenal. He’d never seen one of them personally. If he had, he suspected he wouldn’t be alive to tell anyone about it. “What can we do against a Grass Eater armored division?”
“That’s why we have to get to the special platoon,” Nidvid replied. She pointed in the southern direction, “You ready? Let’s go.”
They galloped for a few more minutes. Motsotaer’s limbs tired and his breaths shallowed as his lung burnt. As he was contemplating whether to ask for another break, Nidvid pointed at a shape in the distance. “There, that’s their position!”
He squinted at it. It was not easy to see, but buried in the tree line was what looked like a bunch of out-of-place branches and leaves over a small vehicle. Buoyed by the anticipation of the end of the marathon, he managed to keep up with Nidvid’s pace.
As they approached, there was a loud shout.
“Hi-yah! Stop!”
They halted their steps and looked for the source of the voice.
“Not one more paw step, deserter! This is a restricted area! Turn around or you’ll be shot!”
Motsotaer looked up at the voice hidden up in the branches. After a moment, with some help from his nose, he found the yeller. It was a short, stout middle-aged male with strange-looking green and brown paint smeared all over his fur and face. He had a rifle aimed squarely at the duo.
“Don’t shoot!” Nidvid yelled back. “We’re runners. We’ve got an important message! For your platoon commander.”
The male in the tree looked suspiciously at them as he leapt down. He lowered his rifle, but didn’t seem any less on guard. “A message?”
“Yes, we’ve got an urgent message for Special Platoon Commander Graunsa. Take us to him right now!”
He sized the two of them up. After a moment, he said slowly, “I am Graunsa. Why are you here, and what is the message?”
Nidvid recovered some of her breath and explained, “The Grass Eaters hit us hard with an artillery strike. Our Head Pack Leader is dead. Our landline is gone. We ran all the way over from our lines north of you.”
Graunsa nodded and gestured for her to continue.
“The Grass Eater armored offensive is about to start. They’re moving into position and ready to go, and there’s a special message embedded—”
“Wait a second,” Graunsa interrupted. “Give me the special message exactly, without omission or your own interpretations.”
“Yes, Platoon Commander,” Nidvid nodded. “The message is: bunny water carriers are in play, red-five-zero-eight; come out of the dark and introduce yourself. Authorization is three-three-greyhound.”
Graunsa looked thoughtful for a moment as he pondered it.
“What does the message mean?” Motsotaer whispered at Nidvid.
“I have no idea,” she shrugged, whispering back. “The Head Pack Leader just told me to memorize it.”
The platoon commander seemed to have made up his mind. “Alright, that seems legitimate. Thanks for the message.” He turned around to leave.
Motsotaer shouted behind him, “Wait, what are we supposed to do now?”
Graunsa turned around. “I don’t know. I’m not your commanding officer.” He paused for a moment. “I wouldn’t recommend going back to your lines though. Might not be there when you get back…”
“What?!”
“You can’t just leave us! Where else are we supposed to go?” Nidvid asked.
Graunsa seemed to contemplate the question for a few heartbeats and sighed, “You said you’re from the position up north?”
“Yup,” they replied in unison.
“And you’re a spotter, Pack Member?” he asked, looking at the rank and position patch on Motsotaer’s chest.
“Yes.”
Graunsa relented. “Fine. We might find a use for you. Get into the bunker… before the Grass Eaters in orbit see us dawdling out here.”
“What? Where?”
The officer pointed at a patch of dark green leaves on the forest floor. As they approached it, he grasped a latch and lifted it to reveal a ladder. The three of them descended into the darkness and Graunsa secured it behind them. With a quiet swoosh, a lamp mounted on the wall lit up to reveal a small hallway leading to a heavy-looking door.
Graunsa knocked on it twice. He turned around and looked at Motsotaer and Nidvid. “What you’re about to see in here is of the highest secrecy level of the Malgeir Federation. If you tell anyone what you see in here, you will be executed for treason. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Platoon Commander.”
“Swear it, on your honor.”
“We swear,” they replied in unison, their voices infused with growing excitement.
“Good enough for me.”
The heavy steel door swung open, showing a room that was vastly different from what its primitive exterior suggested. It resembled a command center far more than a field base, and Motsotaer felt a blast of cold air conditioning in his face as he passed the door threshold.
At the front, a main screen showed a map of the defensive lines in the sector. Facing it, two rows of sleek, new computer screens lit up the dark. Their operators worked busily at their controls, and only a couple faces looked their way in mild interest as they entered.
“What is this—” Motsotaer started to ask. Nidvid grasped his shoulder and shushed him.
Graunsa cleared his throat. Several faces looked towards him in anticipation. “Platoon, we just got the message. Activate the FTL handshake and authenticate us in the network.”
“Yes, sir.” A young-looking communication officer near the front operated a few controls on her console. “I’ve got the advisors on the line.”
Motsotaer read his nametag: Gassin. She was a Gamma Leader, much higher ranked than he, but she looked not a day over twenty. He noted that many of the people in the room sported high-ranking insignias despite their apparent youth.
“On screen,” Graunsa ordered.
A communication window appeared on the main screen, streaming video of someone in a jet-black EVA suit.
Motsotaer stiffened. It was obvious that the subject was alien; at around 1.7 or 1.8 meters, it was far too tall for being a Malgeir. Too small for a Granti. And from the side profile of the suit, it didn’t bulge nearly enough for the tails that the Malgeir’s Schpriss neighbors were known for. A strange new species of aliens.
From the blackened visor, it was obvious that whoever that was… it was the reason for all this tight secrecy.
“Special Platoon Commander Graunsa,” it transmitted in perfect Malgeirish. The alien was either a trained-from-birth Federation Channel One newscaster with a perfectly inoffensive accent, or its translator was far better than anything the Malgeir themselves had invented. “This call is encrypted, but the enemy Znosians in orbit are trying to find your location from the signals, so we’ll have to make it as quick as we can. Have your defensive lines completed your preparations?”
Graunsa stepped up to address the screen directly, “Yes, advisor. Our fire support platoon is ready for tasking.”
“Excellent. Transmitting the first batch of targets in your sector now.”
A series of symbols scrolled onto the screen, showing a number of coordinates.
“We’re getting the enemy positions now,” Gassin exclaimed.
Graunsa turned to her and nodded his appreciation, “Sixteen armored targets. Weapons free.”
“Yes, sir. Programming the sequence.”
A camera on the main screen activated, remotely showing a small hole with some machinery in it dug a few hundred meters away just at the edge of the tree line.
“Launching flying machine swarm!”
As Motsotaer watched, a thicket of metal erupted from the hole in a blur, roaring into the sky.
The main screen was replaced by a four-by-four of windows of black and white images. It took him a couple seconds to realize that he was looking at the battlefield from above. The Malgeir had rotary wing, airplanes, and jet — some were even armed, but they were usually much bigger. And their air assets had been grounded since the early days of the battle for Datsot when the enemy took the orbits.
Not these tiny devices though.
He focused on one of the sixteen windows.
The ground sped past below the camera’s vision, tree line after tree line, the flying machine seemed to know where it was going by itself: Motsotaer looked at the other occupants in the room. None of them seemed to be directly controlling it.
He stiffened.
Is this controlled by a thinking machine?
“We’re getting in range of the target coordinates, Platoon Commander,” Gassin updated the room a few minutes later.
As if on cue, the flying machines flew higher, and the trees on the ground grew smaller, as if further away. Until…
“Targets identified!” Gassin reported with excitement in her voice.
As an infantry spotter, Motsotaer had been trained — barely — to identify enemy armored vehicles. As in, he’d been given a cheatsheet containing the silhouettes of the different types of vehicles the enemy drove. But even he couldn’t tell at this distance what the white-hot smudges on the screen were.
The machine had no such issues though.
Several red boxes materialized on the screen, clearly marking several enemy vehicles in the thermal imagery and adorning them with detailed information.
The one Motsotaer was watching said:
Hostile vehicle, Longclaw MK4 (top armor: ~25mm), 4.2 km.
No hostile EW detected.
Without additional prompting, the flying machines raced in towards their targets, each recognizing a different one as its final destination. Afraid to blink, Motsotaer stared intently at one of the video streams.
A new line of text appeared at the top of the screen:
ETA 20 seconds.
It counted down the seconds, number by number.
The enemy Longclaw got larger and larger until… the screen went black, replaced by static. As he looked around, the other windows were similarly replaced with static one-by-one.
Motsotaer frowned, wondering where the videos had gone.
Then, it hit him. The flying machines were on one-way trips.
The sixteen windows disappeared, and another one appeared, showing the enemy assembly area from a much higher perspective. And instead of the vehicles he expected, he counted sixteen burning wrecks, the black smoke from their flames reaching up into the sky in columns.
“Targets destroyed, Commander,” Gassin said. Several of the officers in the room looked at each other excitedly, but their celebration was muted.
Graunsa nodded. “Call our advisors again.”
The alien appeared on the screen again. “Excellent work, Platoon Commander. We’re assessing the lines and getting the second batch of targets to you now.”
“Understood.”
As the new target coordinates scrolled onto the main screen, Gassin didn’t need additional prompting, “Launching flying machines!”
Another sixteen of them flashed out from the pre-dug position. Another sixteen windows appeared on the screen, replacing the odd-looking aliens’ video.
“Wait a minute,” the aliens’ voice cut into the quiet hum of the control room’s operation. “Switch back to the high-altitude drone. Something’s happening.”
The main screen’s image was replaced by the previous camera looking down at enemy lines. There was a flurry of activity in the enemy base area. Numerous dots representing the ground troops moved to-and-fro. And worryingly, the red squares that surrounded enemy armor began appearing en masse as enemy Longclaws drove out of their covered positions into the open.
Dozens of them.
Then, hundreds. And more appeared every second.
“What’s going on?” Graunsa asked, his voice reflecting Motsotaer’s worry.
The alien took a minute to get back to him, its black helmeted face filling up the screen again. “They’re attacking. They don’t know what hit them in the last strike. But they must have realized that they’re not safe in their assembly area, and they’re doing the only thing they can… We estimate they’ll get to your first lines in thirty minutes.”
“Can we stop them?” Graunsa asked. “We can—”
The alien looked directly into the video. “Not sixteen drones at a time. And if you launch the whole swarm at once, it’ll reflect enough signal for them to sniff out where you are with their counter-battery radars and take you out from orbit.”
Graunsa swallowed. “That’s— that’s— The machines can fly themselves without us, right?”
The alien didn’t say anything for a few heartbeats. “Theoretically, yes. But even if you evacuate your position now, your people won’t get out of range from the orbital strike they’ll call in.”
“I understand. Feed us the enemy targets.”
“Delta Leader, we can’t ask you to—”
“I said, feed us the enemy targets,” Graunsa insisted.
Quietly, hundreds of coordinate pairs filed onto the main screen. Graunsa looked at the faces of the young officers under his command. Dozens of them. He turned around to look at his two guests. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s the right choice,” Nidvid replied, shrugging.
Motsotaer nodded at him.
“I know,” Graunsa said, turning back to the main screen. “Just doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Sir, we’re ready to launch,” Gassin reported.
“Weapons free. Release everything.”
“Yes, sir.”
The ground shook and rumbled, hundreds of flying machines leaving their canisters for the sky. They were close enough to hear the outgoing buzzing as the munitions launched. This time, more and more windows filled up the screen with the visuals of the outgoing flying machines — hundreds of them, and Motsotaer was surprised that the computers could even handle it all.
The visage of the alien returned to their screen. It said calmly, “Enemy orbital launch spotted. Multiple launches. High yield. Missiles incoming to your location, ETA twelve minutes.”
“Understood, advisor.”
POV: Slurskoch, Znosian Dominion Marines (Rank: Five Whiskers)
“Scramble! Scramble! Scramble!”
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.
“What’s going on?” Longclaw Commander Slurskoch sat up in his turret cupola as the sirens rang loud through the hull.
“We’re under artillery attack!” his Controller yelled back at him through the roaring startup sequence of the turbine anti-grav engines. “The Lesser Predators… they’ve got some kind of new weapon! Took out a whole battalion’s worth of Longclaws in the 194!”
“But we’re not ready!” his Driver complained. “Our artillery is supposed to pound them for another hour before we—”
Slurskoch shook his head as he checked the friendly force tracker on his screen. “Doesn’t matter! If they’ve got some new weapon, we can’t sit still while we get pounded to bits by whatever they have. We gotta get out there. Hurry it up!”
It took them another two minutes to fully warm up the engines, and with a roar, the Longclaw burst out of its camouflaged emplacement, kicking up a curtain of dirt in front of it.
“Let’s go! Go! Go!” Slurskoch yelled as his lagging Longclaw joined the armored formation already on the move.
The Controller spoke with one of her ears in the radio, “Their artillery just launched… something at us. We’ve pinpointed their location, and orbital support is on its way.”
His Gunner whooped twice, and Slurskoch nodded silently in agreement. That’d flatten those carnivorous abominations where they stood. He drew a few symbols and circles on the digital battlemap as the Longclaws drove toward the enemy lines. “Gunner, watch those potential trench lines in front of us,” he instructed. “Their anti-armor may not look scary on paper, but their infantry can always get a lucky hit in.”
Slurskoch was taught in training that it was better to overestimate the enemy than underestimate them. Luckily, the predators usually fell below expectations, which was why the Dominion controlled the orbits of Datsot now and not them.
His Controller frowned at something in her radio, “They’re saying something about the enemy artillery… The engineers at the base assessed the strike aftermath. There’s something strange in the rubble. The attack was more precise than anything we’d ever seen.”
“What does that mean?” Slurskoch asked in confusion.
“The sensor officer in charge of the assembly area has taken full responsibility. They didn’t see the incoming at all. Higher ups are speculating that the Lesser Predators have a new weapon in their arsenal.”
“The predators made new weapons?” Slurskoch snorted. “Useful ones? That’ll be a first. Well, whatever it is, maybe our Design Bureau will get a good look at it when we finally cleanse this planet of their filth. Make our next battle a little easier when we have to take their home planet.”
His Gunner agreed, “And then, the Prophecy shall be fulfilled.”
A few kilometers into the charge across the open, the Gunner remarked with one eye on her targeting computer, “Looks like even the local winged predators know that there’s about to be a slaughter here.”
The Driver, in his open hatch, looked up at the cloud of them flying over the enemy lines. “Looks like it. A nice juicy feast for them in the coming battle. The irony of the barbaric carnivores being eaten by themselves.”
A few thousand years ago, winged predators would have curdled the blood of any natural-born Znosian. On the original plains of Znos, they were one of the most dangerous threats a lone Znosian faced. Now, that fear had been completely bred out of the gene pool, replaced with contempt for predatory primitivism, the courage to face them in battle, and the drive to exterminate them all.
Curious, Slurskoch stared up into the cloud of winged predators with his Longclaw commander optics. He frowned.
One of them shimmered.
Shimmered.
He zoomed in.
Then, he saw a metallic glint. His whiskers tightened.
“That’s— those aren’t winged predators,” he barely made out in shock. “Incoming!”
“Huh?” his Driver asked, craning his head up to look at the dark shapes in the distance.
“Get inside! Secure the hatch!” Slurskoch shouted at him.
His Driver was not very good at thinking on his own, but he had been bred to follow direct orders without question. He ducked into his seat, quickly securing the hatch above him close with trained claws.
He barely secured the Longclaw as other commanders began yelling out similar instructions on their radios.
“Incoming!” his Controller advised, about ten seconds later than necessary. “Enemy… artillery?!”
“Gunner!” Slurskoch gestured in the general direction of the sky.
“I can’t get a shot on them. They’re too high up!” she screamed back at him.
A trio of air defense vehicles next to him opened up with their six barrels towards the sky, lines of bright tracers stabbing out at the dark swarm. He saw one of the… flying machines hit and fall out of the sky. Then another.
It wasn’t enough.
As Slurskoch’s optics tracked the incoming, he saw them dive. They were fast, and they flew erratic patterns, almost organically, like actual winged beasts. If he hadn’t had that specific fear bred out of his bloodline hundreds of years ago, he would have been frozen in shock. Instead, he yelled out, “Brace! Brace!”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The world exploded around his Longclaw.
Through his friendly force tracker, Slurskoch watched an entire battalion disappear off the map on his right flank, and two Longclaws in his line of sight brewed up in massive fireballs, throwing their turrets into the sky as their plasma ammunition detonated. One of the anti-air vehicles brewed up next to his, splattering its parts against his hull.
His Driver drove for all he was worth, ducking and weaving in the open field. So did the other Longclaws. Some deployed curtains of smoke in front of them in desperation.
None of it seemed to help.
The shockwaves hit his Longclaw in quick succession, knocking him around the armored cabin and rattling his teeth.
Boom. Boom.
More Longclaws exploded. Many more. They were disappearing off his screen faster than the software could update the signals. He closed his eyes waiting for the end.
It didn’t come.
It was hard for Slurskoch to tell when the last Longclaw near them was hit. His hearing organs must have been damaged some time during the attack. His auditory senses ringed as they returned to normal, recovering when his Controller shook him with a paw on his shoulder. “—Five Whiskers! Five Whiskers!”
“What is it?” he snapped, keeping the quivering out of his voice.
“We’re alone in our company, and I can’t contact the six whiskers! And I’ve been trying to reach battalion without success!”
“Try the regiment commander!” he yelled out against the noise of the anti-grav engine.
“Can’t reach them either!”
“What about division headquarters?!”
“I think division’s gone, sir!”
“What?!”
“Nobody there has been responding. All I’ve got is a seven whiskers in the reserve infantry division behind us! They’re saying they see black smoke in the direction of our division field command!”
“What in the Prophecy? How is that possible?!”
“What do we do, Five Whiskers?”
Slurskoch had been trained for a wide variety of combat scenarios and contingencies, including losing his immediate superiors, losing most of his unit, and losing his communication link to command. But he’d never been trained for all of those combined at once. That was just not something predators were supposed to be able to do to you.
He fell back to the next best thing.
“What’s the combat computer say?” he asked.
His Controller operated the controls on her console, and after half a minute of querying, she replied, reading off the instructions, “Absent orders, continue the attack. Maybe we can push through.”
“What? Did it take our losses into account?” he protested as he checked the battlemap. Of the nearly five hundred Longclaws that had pushed out of the assembly area, only a quarter remained. At most. Some of the signals on the map were flagging themselves as mobility or mission killed.
She shrugged, “It did. That’s what it says.”
He squinted at her screen. That was indeed what it said.
Slurskoch thought for a moment, sighed, and bowed in prayer, “Our lives were forfeited the day we left our hatchling pools.”
The other crew members all did the same, lowering their heads to mutter the familiar mantra.
That ritual out of the way, he drew up to his full height of 1 meter and mustered all the confidence he could into his voice, “Attack! Attack! Attack!”
POV: Graunsa, Malgeir Federation Planetary Defense Force (Rank: Delta Leader)
The command center watched glumly as the hundred or so surviving Grass Eater Longclaws emerged from the wrecks of their comrades and slowly resumed their charge across the open toward the defense lines.
The flying machines had gotten a lot of them. Quite a few disabled too. And they were disorganized from the loss of their command. Yet they still charged. Diminished as their numbers were, they rolled towards the battered defensive lines with psychotic determination.
We’ve failed.
Graunsa sat down heavily into his chair. He brought up his communication console, connecting it to the advisor network.
The alien appeared on the screen, and though he couldn’t see its face, he could hear the sympathy in its translated voice, “You’ve done all you can, Special Platoon Commander.”
“It wasn’t enough,” he said, shaking his ears sadly. “They’re going to break through our line. Our infantry can’t stop them.”
It tilted its head. “I wouldn’t count them out completely, Delta Leader. They might. They might not. But your next defensive line certainly will hold them. The city behind you will be held.”
“Tracking enemy orbit-to-ground. ETA three minutes,” Gassin reported quietly from next to him.
Graunsa sighed. He looked at the alien, “I think I understand your people now, advisor.”
“You… do?”
“Yeah, at first, when we were picked for this mission, I wondered why your people were doing this.”
“Doing this?” the alien asked, seeming confused.
“Helping us. The weapons. The equipment. The training. The targeting. It was all in secret, but you didn’t have to do it. The other species around us didn’t do it. The Schpriss…” Graunsa snorted, “The long-tails can’t even find it in their spines to send us field rations. I thought your species… your people were just generous. Or perhaps you simply enjoyed the craft of war, being so adept at it.”
“Are we… not?”
“Those reasons may be part of it,” he conceded. “But more importantly, I think your people understand one thing the other species don’t… that we might stop the enemy here. Or we might not.”
“We didn’t set you up to fail, if that’s what you think—”
“But the next defensive line certainly will hold them,” Graunsa said, staring the alien in the eye. “You will hold them. Isn’t that right?”
It sighed. “I would be lying if that wasn’t part of the strategic equation. Our star systems are indeed next in line — sometime in the next decade or two, probably — if these bloodthirsty Buns conquered your Federation. That harsh astropolitical realism. But there’s something else too.”
“Is there?”
“Yes,” it nodded its head firmly in a familiar manner. “Yes, there is. We aren’t a particularly long-sighted species, Graunsa. We can plan, yes, but wars are fought by true believers. People don’t sign up to put their lives on the line for a hypothetical, potential invasion of our Republic twenty years in the future. They— we signed up for this because we truly believe what’s happening to your people… it shouldn’t happen to anyone, ever.”
Graunsa looked at the helmeted head for a while, then nodded. “I believe you, advisor.”
“I’m sorry this didn’t pan out, Graunsa. If I could, I’d be down there with you. We’d have made them pay for this.”
Graunsa smiled. “I believe you about that too. Thank you, advisor, whatever your name is.”
“You may call me Kara,” it said simply. A deft snap of its paws — he hadn’t noticed how soft its claws were before — and it released a latch on its helmet with a hiss. Lifting it from its head, it revealed a soft, smooth face without much fur except a bundle of long, brown strands on its scalp tied up in a neat spherical shape. Its hazel forward-facing eyes stared at him with the empathy that only other predators were capable of, filling him with mild relief. “Don’t tell anyone though,” it joked lightly, mirroring his smile back at him.
You’re not as ugly as I thought you’d be. Not nearly.
Graunsa’s grin widened at the thought. He put it out of his mind. “Ah. One last thing, advisor— Kara.”
“Yes?”
His mind drifted to his cubs at home. Perhaps they were still alive. He chose to believe that. “Our people’s clans and packs…”
“We’ll let them know,” she interrupted him softly. “And when the information quarantine is lifted, we’ll let your clans and packs know what you did here — everything.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Gassin sat down next to him, “Delta Leader, enemy missiles incoming. ETA thirty seconds, they’re entering—” She stopped her report and stared at the unmasked alien on his screen with equal parts wonder and sadness.
“Take a closer look, Gassin,” he ordered softly. “That… that is who will avenge us.”
On screen, the alien put its gloved paw up to its temple, forming a stiff triangle with its arm in a recognizable salute. “It was an honor, Graunsa.”
Graunsa returned it crisply, letting a primitive fire shine through his face. “Happy hunting, Kara.”

Location: Atlas Naval Command, Luna

POV: “Kara”, Terran Reconnaissance Office
Kara watched solemnly as the green signal blinked off the battlemap. She closed her eyes for a moment in silent prayer for the fallen.
Beep. Beep.
Another light on her console blinked urgently for her attention. Four thousand kilometers from the previous one. The war raged on — day and night — across four continents on the besieged planet. Fifty light years from the Republic, its defenders’ sweat, tears, and blood lined the fields and valleys of the beautiful blue sphere not so different from her own. Tens of millions of them: many who she knew would not see the end of this war.
They didn’t all know it, and some might not have cared, but fifty light years away, someone recorded their names, and someone felt a pang of loss for their sacrifice. In the cold, dark forest of the galaxy, somebody heard their trees fall.
Kara collected her thoughts, adjusted the bun in her hair, and lowered the tinted EVA helmet over her face once more.
She cleared her throat as she glanced at the screen and activated the microphone in her helmet, “Special Platoon Commander Treiriu. This call is encrypted, but the enemy Znosians in orbit are trying to find your location from the signals, so we’ll have to make it as quick as we can. Have your defensive lines completed your preparations?”

Meta

Thanks for reading my story! This is a standalone chapter in my Grass Eaters story, meant to be enjoyable all on its own. If you're interested in more of my writing, please do subscribe to the update waffle bot or check out the rest of the universe in Grass Eaters.
(Grass Eaters posts every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We are closing in on the end of Book 1.)

TL;DR Please keep a work journal. Use it to record your small “wins” at work. Use it to build your resume for when you need a raise, a promotion, or a new job.

What do Firefighters Do All Day?

When I was a kid, I loved Richard Scarry picture books. He drew human-like animals who lived in “Busytown” and who worked in typical places: bank, firehouse, bakery, and so on. Richard Scarry explained to young readers what firefighters did all day: they rescued cats from tall trees. When the baker burned a batch of pies, the firefighters came and put out the burning pies. The firefighters had a big truck full of hoses, and they spent a lot of time fussing over the truck, too.
https://preview.redd.it/fpn6eflbl81d1.jpg?width=700&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f51b4cafb6766ad0b1a2baea4ec7357f9d58a85e
Children are not born knowing what a banker does, what a baker does, what a firefighter does. It’s both useful and lovely to explain basic job functions to children so they can understand how their town functions.
A lot of people, including job seekers on this subreddit, seem to think resumes are Richard Scarry books. People spend their resumes explaining what a baker does all day:

• rolled out dough for pies and bagels each morning
• sold doughnuts and muffins to customers; returned correct change
• turned off ovens and swept kitchen clean every night

WHAT? That’s only a resume if you were terrible at your job. I’m serious; if I saw those three bullet points on a baker’s resume, I would assume the baker in question had just been fired.

The Point of Resume Bullet Points

Imagine you’ve been a professional baker for two years. You’ve applied for a new job. You’ve made it through the dumb website questionnaires, the redundant forms. You made it past the algorithm or the robot that rejects half the applicants right away. You’ve got your resume in front of me, the person who can decide to interview you, the person who can decide to hire you.
And you’re using this time to tell me what a baker does?
Your resume is not a place to educate children about your core job functions. Your resume is a place to persuade a manager that you are good at your job! If I’m hiring a baker, chances are good-to-excellent that I already know what a baker does all day. I want to know if you are a good baker!

• reduced morning biscuit prep time by switching to corn oil; saved 18 minutes per day
• caramel doughnut recipe won 2nd place in Busytown’s Bake-Off 2021
• increased earnings 8% by moving tip jar to front of counter

Those are accomplishments. They show that you were good at your job. They show that you make improvements. They show that you measure things: How long was it taking you to make biscuits before? What did you change? How long did it take you to make biscuits after that change? Was the change your idea, or something your boss told you to try?
Now, maybe the tip jar example bothers you. Maybe that’s not about being a good baker, it’s more about being a greedy, self-interested employee. Guess what? As a hiring manager, I don’t care! I’m so impressed that you made a change and measured the impact of that change that I give you full points for that tip jar bullet point. Even if my bakery doesn’t use tip jars. Even if I’m hiring for a pastry chef position at a hotel, a role that doesn’t get tipped income. It’s the drive to measure, the habit of making small improvements at work, that’s what impresses me.

Lost Progress: My Doughnut Years

I worked at a doughnut shop right after college, years ago. It was not a happy time for me; I had a fancy degree, so I had expected to be doing more interesting things with my life than frosting doughnuts and pouring coffee for customers. But I’m a driven person. I improve things everywhere I go. I remember I impressed my boss one day when I came in with colorful printed signs I had made on my home ink-jet printer: “Chocolate Sprinkles,” “Raspberry Jelly,” “Lemon Creme.” We had been using hand-printed signs, Sharpie on cardboard, and these were a big improvement.
Our regular customers noticed the signs. I probably bragged about them or fished for compliments. That’s something 22-year-old me would have done. For sure the shop owner liked them. I remember the glossy paper I used made them easier to wipe clean, so we didn’t have to re-write the labels every few days.
I didn’t write any of this down in a journal. It all happened years ago; I barely remember it. But I should have been keeping a journal. If I had, then my resume would have featured bullet points such as:

• simplified regular ordering process by creating new signs …or
• standardized inventory display with colorful, uniform signage …or
• took initiative to re-do store signage; received 23 compliments from regular customers …or
• “Did you make those signs? They look amazing!” -Actual customer, responding to the labels I created on my home printer for the doughnut display area

Maybe some of those bullet points hit harder than others; I was young and it was a dumb job. But see how those bullet points say much more about what kind of baker I am than
“• rolled out dough for pies and bagels each morning” ?

How, When, and What to Journal at Work

If you have an amazing memory for tiny details, then maybe you don’t need to keep a journal. But most people should. Every month, or at least every quarter, sit down for twenty minutes and write down something that demonstrates you are good, skilled, dedicated, resourceful, whatever:

1. “Neela Roberts, a regular client, said last month ‘Dave, whenever you process my invoice, I know it’s going to be correct, I don’t even have to check!’ That made me feel good.”
2. “I caught a pricing typo on the quote sheet Business Development was preparing to send over to Acme Industrials. Maybe someone else would have caught it, but wow those Acme people are pushy about little details like that; I probably saved us $500, who knows?”
3. “I’m glad I persuaded Marla to upgrade the A/V system in the conference room. We always used to have clients ask us ‘what? say that again?’ in our conference calls. Since we installed the new mics and speakers, I can’t remember that happening.”
4. “Chris over in Receiving bought me a beer after work today, said he wanted to thank me for recommending Dale for the new loader position. Glad to hear Dale is working out so well over there.”

It's easy, in the glow of a big win at work, to think "I'll always remember this accomplishment. I'll always remember how I helped the team, the way this project came together, the nice things the boss said about our hard work. This is a memory I'll treasure."
And then Monday rolls around, and you're back to rolling out dough for the morning bagels. Unless you are a professional athlete, most days at work are not wins. Most days at work are not noteworthy. And the ho-hum of the every day can overwhelm your big and small accomplishments unless you make time to write them down regularly.

Why to Journal at Work

Even if you love your job, even if you are 10 years into a 20-year role with a guaranteed pension, a place you never intend to leave, you should still be doing this.
First, I don’t believe any job is guaranteed in this life.
Second, a list of improvements and accomplishments will help you get promotions and raises at your current job. Think of how much you’ll have to say at your annual review when you’ve been taking monthly notes on your significant contributions! It will help you defend yourself if you ever face cutbacks at work due to downturns and budget problems.
Third, journaling and measuring will make you a better worker! My whole mentality at work changed when i started measuring stuff. “Hey, I think we should reorganize the mailing room, because I think the workflow in there is just nuts. But you know what? Let’s note down how many packages we ship out each morning for the next three mornings, just to get a baseline. Then, when we make the changes I have in mind, we can see if things actually improve. Three more days with the old system won’t kill us, and it will let me measure my impact.”
Your work journal needs to be in a paper book or in a computer file you will retain access to even if you change jobs. We’ve all heard horror stories about layoffs at Zenith Techno where workers got an automated email at 5AM and lost all access to company files. Your work journal needs to be your property. Your career is more important than any one job!
If you work for the CIA or for a urologist, you might need to take some basic care to respect the privacy of clients and your employer. Maybe use fake names of patients. Don't put the secret recipe to your boss's famous caramel doughnuts on a server where doughnut hackers can get to it. But keep a journal! Do it!
Otherwise, this is all you’ve got to say for yourself at the end of the day:
“• turned off ovens and swept kitchen clean every night”

The Penguins of Madagascar

"Just smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave."

The Penguins of Madagascar are four ordinary penguins turned secret commando team. Born in the frozen wasteland that is Antarctica, Skipper, Kowalski, and Rico spent their childhood in boredom, waddling along the ice with seemingly no destination in mind. They were constantly told by the rest of their colony that it was a dangerous world for a penguin, and something so "cute and cuddly" shouldn't take any risks. One day, the group witnessed a lone egg rolling down the snow towards an icy cliff. When they realized no one was going to help it, the three baby penguins leapt into action. They rescued the egg from certain doom, but in the process were separated from the rest of their group, stuck on a lone iceberg and floating towards an unknown future. It was that moment that Skipper, Kowalski, Rico, and the new hatching Private, became not only a team, but a family.
Fast forward a few years, and the Penguins of Madagascar have grown into a skilled group of elite commandos, partaking in various missions that have taken them all over the world, from New York to Madagascar to Africa to Europe. Over the course of their dangerous careers they have accumulated a wide variety of friends and allies. These range from the residents of the Central Park Zoo to the members of the spy agency North Wind. However they have also made no shortage of enemies, including Hans the Danish puffin, the Red Squirrel and the maniacal Dr. Blowhole.

Respect Threads

• Skipper
• Kowalski
• Rico
• Private
• Group Thread

Skipper

"Cute and cuddly, boys. Cute and cuddly."

Skipper is the leader of the group, devising tactics and gives orders. He is calculating, strict, paranoid, short-tempered, stubborn, and has a great disdain for hippies. Skipper's raving paranoia and tendency to view even the most ordinary activities as a military operation, combined with his experience in covert ops, has driven him to prepare for nearly any situation, no matter how bizarre or unlikely. While his antics do tend to alienate other animals outside of his commando team, more often than not his paranoia is proven justified, as he and his team have saved the world on multiple occasions.
Strength

• Slides into a metal door with enough force to dent it
• His punches shake a tree
• Forces open a giant alligator's jaws
• Crushes a golf ball with his flipper
• Throws a plastic unicorn toy with enough force for it to get stuck in a brick wall
• Repeatedly breaks himself out of a block of ice that was "Antarctic cold"

Speed/Agility

• Dodges a multitude of darts from a booby trap
• Dodges a large missile multiple times
• Dodges multiple lasers while charging towards an experimental laser turret
• Slides fast enough to stay ahead of Officer X's combat van
• Jumps over 1 1/2 stories onto a rising platform
• Bounces and flips around several lamp posts, rocks, and trees, eventually knocking out some pins with an explosive dive kick

Durability

• Gets kicked into a brick wall by Joey the kangaroo, cracking it
• Gets kicked high into the air by his evil android doppelganger, who was strong enough to crack concrete
• Kowalski's Nexto Skeleton knocks him through a bench with a rocket kick
• Gets pounded into the concrete by Bada
• Gets slammed into a concrete wall by Roger, creating a penguin shaped indention
• Falls through the roof of a plane mid flight
• Gets blasted into a stone wall by an explosion
• Gets shocked by the Zoo's new electric field
• For a short while, he walks across pavement that was hot enough to turn an egg to ash in 3 seconds
• After being buried alive, gets blasted through the dirt with a piece of dynamite and is perfectly fine

Skill

• Even while unconscious, his reflexes always keep him ready to fight
• Fends off the other penguins with relative ease
• Throws a playing card with enough accuracy to cut a four ropes keeping the penguins suspended in the air as well as a rope holding up a chandelier
• Throws a coin, which cuts two ropes and frees Maurice, bounces off a wall, cuts another rope and frees Mort, and finally bounces off another wall and turns off a light switch

Kowalski

"Okay Kowalski, wow me."
"Behold, a portal to times past. The Chronotron!"
"So, its a time machine?"
"Well, yes."
"So why not call it a time machine?"
"Sure, yeah. And while we're at it, let's call the Great Wall a fence, the Mona Lisa a doodle, and Albert Einstein Mr. Smarty Pants!"

Kowalski is the brains of the operation. He is a brilliant inventor, creating a multitude of different inventions and gadgets to help the penguins on their missions. If given enough time, there are few things that he couldn't invent. Unfortunately, most of the time his inventions cause serious trouble for the team, either falling into the wrong hands, turning against Kowalski, or just exploding. Not to mention, despite his intelligence, he cannot read (although he still carries around a clipboard to record drawings of their plans). He tends to over-analyze situations, trying to perfect every minute detail of a plan before he acts. This often causes the team more harm than if he would just act. That being said, he is still an invaluable member of the Penguins. Without him, they would simply be a couple of ordinary penguins that can do flips and karate chop people.
Strength

• Slides into a metal door with enough force to dent it
• Kicks a bowling ball with impressive velocity into Private's face
• Pulls down a bill board
• Digs through solid concrete with nothing but a plastic spoon

Speed/Agility

• Jumps over 1 1/2 stories onto a rising platform
• Dodges a multitude of darts from a booby trap
• Dodges several laser beams from the Penguins' lair security protocol
• Slides fast enough to stay ahead of Officer X's combat van
• Wall jumps several times to climb out of King Julian's fake volcano
• Dodges and weaves around several spotlights

Durability

• Gets pulled by Rico with enough force to dent a steel door
• His Nexto Skeleton knocks him through a bench with a rocket kick
• Gets crushed by a swinging wrecking ball and is fine moments later
• Gets crushed under a large boulder
• Gets blasted into the air by Rico's rocket launcher
• Gets shocked by 5000 volt electrical cables twice
• Gets his face torched by the Penguins' flamethrower
• After being buried alive, gets blasted through the dirt with a piece of dynamite and is perfectly fine

Skill

• Flips and dodges around several attacks from chameleon tongues while being blindfolded
• Throws his abacus, which bounces off of both Badda and Bing and then returns to him (similar to Captain America's shield)

Intelligence/Gadgets

• Invents a machine that can remove someone's intelligence and store it in a cardboard box
• Invents a fully functioning time machine, which he uses twice to travel back in time. When three Kowalskis exist in the same space it rips a hole in the fabric of the universe
• Built a thermo fusion reactor within the penguin's base
• Invents the Helmet, which allows the user to move object with their mind, as well as summon any object they think of to them at a moment's notice
• Builds an invisibility ray
• Makes a laser gun that can revert things to their younger, fresher state, which turns Skipper into a baby and eventually back into an adult
• Creates a device that can stop time, (anyone that is touching the device at the time he activates it will experience the stopped time)
• Builds a mech suit, which he dubs the nexto skeleton, that can fly, shoot missiles, is strong enough to life a large boulder over his head, and can even rebuild lost limbs out of seemingly nothing
• Builds a machine that can clone an exact replica of any living organism, as long as it has their DNA (which he uses to bring a dodo bird back to life)
• Built an anti gravity gun
• Hacks into a traffic light with relative ease

Rico

"B-but that shouldn't have worked! It breaks all known rules of science!"
"And that's why we call Rico a maverick. He makes his own rules."
[BLEH BL-BLAH BL-BLUH BLAH BLEH]

Rico is the group's weapons and explosives specialist who mainly communicates through grunts and squeals. With a stomach that defies reality, Rico swallows a plethora of useful tools and weapons and regurgitates them when needed, including ones that appear to be too large to have been swallowed in the first place. Rico has a few screws loose, so the other Penguins need to keep him on a tight leash lest he lose his mind in a dynamite filled frenzy. That said, Rico's love for explosions and destruction is an asset that Skipper has no problem letting lose on their enemies or any problem that the team may be facing.
Strength

• Breaks a fairly large hole through a brick wall
• Pulls Kowalski with enough force to dent a steel door
• Lifts an anvil over his head
• Bites through a lock
• Digs through concrete at an incredibly fast with two plastic spoons

Speed/Agility

• Jumps over 1 1/2 stories onto a rising platform
• Dodges several laser beams
• Dodges one of the Red Squirrel's missiles
• Kicks Kowalski into the air, and by the time he falls back down, Rico had already got into, started, and drove the penguins Buggy next to their base to catch him
• Cuts up a fish into perfectly sized bites of sushi in just over a second
• Climbs over the zoo's main gate in seconds

Durability

• Slams into a brick wall, cracking it
• Falls directly onto a rhino's horn
• Gets crushed by a falling elephant
• Falls through the roof of a plane mid flight and is completely unharmed
• A bomb explodes inside of his stomach and he barely reacts
• Is right next to where Kowalski shot his newly acquired plasma blaster on turbo setting, which caused an explosion powerful enough to blow a hole in their concrete ceiling (that same plasma blaster on medium setting was able to disintegrate a lamp post in a single shot
• Gets hit by a static shock that is strong enough to knock out the power in the Penguin lair
• For a short while, he walks across pavement that was hot enough to turn an egg to ash in 3 seconds
• After being buried alive, gets blasted through the dirt with a piece of dynamite and is perfectly fine

Skill

• Fends off both Skipper and Kowalski with nothing but a doll as a weapon
• Throws Marlene like a boomerang, bouncing her off of both Bada and Bing's heads and then catching her
• Shoots 3 fish out of the air with a crossbow

Swallowing/Regurgitation
Rico is able to regurgitate whatever Skipper needs as long as he has it locked away in his intestines. As soon as an object, weapon, or tool is needed he can produce it almost instantly.

• Spits up a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse and immediately regurgitates a flash light
• Spits out a grenade filled with knock out gas
• Regurgitates a massive missile which is far larger than he is
• Continuously regurgitates hook shots so he can swing from buildings like Spider-Man
• Spits a small anchor into the air with enough velocity to strike him in the head a couple seconds after it leaves his mouth
• Regurgitates a chainsaw with enough velocity to fly into the air and cut through a sewer pipe
• Fires screws fast enough for them to secure a metal door in place and keep Jiggles the slime contained
• Throws up a cinder block with enough force to send a leopard seal flying backwards

Private

"Private, options."
"Hello? I'm the options guy!"
"But not when it comes to matters of the heart. That's where young Private here shines."

Private is the emotionally sensitive, British-accented rookie of the Penguins of Madagascar. Though younger and less experienced than the other penguins, he is the most down to earth and compassionate. Private tends to offer simpler, more commonsense solutions in response to Skipper and Kowalski's complex strategies, often in an understated tone while those strategies are falling apart. He also has an affinity for unicorns.
Strength

• Slides into a metal door with enough force to dent it
• While underwater, he kicks a baby leopard seal which flies into an adult leopard seal, reversing its momentum
• Stops a massive leopard seal from falling off an icy cliff
• Hangs onto his golf club as he uses it to swing their golf cart around a tree

Speed/Agility

• Jumps over 1 1/2 stories onto a rising platform
• Dodges several darts shot out from one of Kowalski's booby traps
• Dodges several lasers from the Penguins' security system
• In the flash that Dave's monster ray is fired, he frees himself from his bindings and hides beneath a piece of machinery without anyone noticing
• Out swims a leopard seal for a short while
• Deflects a golf ball with his club
• Wall jumps multiple times to get to the top of the zoo's gates

Durability

• Gets karate chopped by Skipper to the ground
• After covering one of Rico's bombs with a bucket, he gets blasted through the roof of the zoo's security building
• Gets crushed between Skipper and a concrete wall after an explosion blasts Skipper into him, leaving a Private shaped indention in the wall
• Falls from the outskirts of the Earth's atmosphere and crashes to the ground below
• Gets dropped onto an electric fence by Savio
• For a short while, he runs across pavement that was hot enough to turn an egg to ash in 3 seconds
• After being buried alive, he gets blasted out of the ground by a piece of dynamite and is fine
• Falls into a pit of rusty bear traps, which mildly injures him

Skill

• Defends himself from Skipper's strikes and disarms him while blindfolded
• Defeats over a dozen of Dr. Blowhole's minions with ease
• Fires a dart gun, which bounces off of several objects and walls before eventually hitting the light switch and turning off the lights

Cuteness

• Unlocks what Kowalski calls "quantum hyper cute", which causes anyone who sees him to faint because their brains are overloading from the cuteness
• By using himself as a power source, his cuteness is able to reverse the affects of Dave's monster ray

Teamwork

• Push an elephant into a cage
• Using Rico as a battering ram, they destroy a brick wall
• Forming a penguin chain, Kowalski, Rico, and Private support the weight of an elephant
• Kowalski, Rico, and Private manage to hold Officer X's van in place while it tries to drive away
• Incapacitate Capitaine DuBois and her men, tying them up and launching them out of a canon
• Take on a small army of Dr. Blowhole's lobster minions

Gear

• Grenades
• Rocket launcher
• Flamethrower that is hot enough to melt a lamp post
• Laser pen which can cleanly cut through stone
• Grappling hooks
• Jetpacks gifted to them by the North Wind spy agency

Using the Penguins on WWW

While it may vary from episode to episode, the penguins are all around the same ballpark in stats and skill. They're pretty well rounded, being able to withstand blows that damage stone and metal walls and can dish out those same kinds of hits. On top of that, most have dealt with minor esoteric damage types like heat, electricity, and cold. While they're not too crazy speed wise, they're all capable of aim dodging lasers and can avoid slower projectiles like darts. Combine that with their absurd agility and small size and these four will be extremely difficult to hit for opponents that are on their physical level.
However, it's the areas outside of physical stats that let the penguins fight above their weight class. They're all capable in close quarters combat, with Skipper being the clear standout (though Rico and Private have both shown to be able to hold their own against him under the right conditions). Rico is a walking armory that will give them access to any weapon in their arsenal at any time, Kowalski has plenty of inventions that most opponents won't have resistances too, and Private's hyper cuteness could certainly catch their opponents off guard.
The best way to beat these four is to split them up and fight them individually. They've shown many times that they are far greater than the sum of their parts, engaging in hit and run tactics or using one of their various haxes to battle opponents above their weight class. Kowalski and Private in particular are vulnerable to losing their composures if things aren't going their way in a fight (though I wouldn't exactly call that a strength for Skipper and Rico either).

LOOOONG first time trip report! 5/13-5/18, stayed at Beach Club, visited all four parks, bought Genie+ every day, had the standard DDP. Family of 4, two girls 5 and 9. I learned so much from this group over the past year and especially loved trip reports, so hopefully this post will be helpful to someone!
💲BUDGET💲
-- I booked the trip a year out so I could break it up into 12 manageable payments. I opened the no fee Disney VISA, which gives you several months of no interest on charges made towards Disney travel packages, rewards dollars to use at Disney, and a couple other perks like character meet and greets and discounts.
-- I signed up for Disney Movie Insiders. This is what you're supposed to do with all those little codes that come in Disney DVDs/Blurays. You enter the codes in exchange for points, and at 1000 points, you can redeem for a $10 Disney gift card. You also get points for being subscribed to Disney+, seeing Disney movies in the theater, their social media accounts, and a whole bunch of other things. I got $50 in gift cards from this alone.
-- If you want Disney-themed luggage, try thinking outside the box to save money! I got plain luggage in Mickey colors--red and black--and Mickey luggage tags to make them Disney themed.
-- I tried to budget for souvenirs via gift cards... but I failed, lol. Everything is so expensive, $100 is gone in a second. Plushes are like $40, coffee cups are $20, etc. Whatever you're planning to spend, double it! I get what people say about most shops having the same stuff, but it's definitely not all of them, most of the ones post-ride have unique stuff. And honestly it's kind of nice most of them have the same stuff, if you want to get whatever your kid was asking for earlier, you don't have to walk all the way back to the one shop you saw it at.
-- We paid for Memory Maker and I'm on the fence about it. On the one hand, it's really nice to get all the ride photos and meet and greet photos and magic shots. It's also really nice for the whole family to be in a lot of pictures and not have to swap with the other adult or find someone willing to take your picture. On the other, we definitely didn't utilize it as much as I wanted to because a lot of the photographers had pretty long lines and I just didn't want to spend time waiting for a picture I could take myself. If we came across someone with a shortish or no line, we made sure to get it, but for anyone with a long line, we just stood around the same spot and took our own.
🗓️PLANNING🗓️
-- If you have kids and live within easy driving distance of another amusement park, highly recommend making a visit BEFORE going to Disney to get an idea of how they handle that kind of day/environment, especially if they have never been. I quickly discovered we would absolutely need a stroller and I would need to be militant with the kids about staying hydrated. Also to avoid face paint, as heat + tears + paint + eyes = bad day! I felt so much better making these discoveries beforehand and being able to prepare accordingly, rather than making them at Disney.
-- USE AN AGENT! An agent is free to you, so why not have the help? Ours was amazing, she gave us quotes, booked the package, rebooked as needed later when a better deal came out, made all the payments, dining and extra reservations, and was just all-around awesome to work with. It was such a load off to know I wasn't on my own with all this stuff.
-- Watch everything Ear Scouts. No one explains Genie+ better, and Rob and Erick's videos are just so positive and beautiful and well done.
-- I also enjoyed reading Disney Tourist Blog--lovingly snarky but super informative!--and Disney Food Blog for fun tips and news.
-- I didn't find any park to be a half day park, we filled our whole day in every one and still didn't see everything!
-- My kids did really well, whenever they were on the verge of cranky, we had one ride in the stroller for a while, bought a snack (usually ice cream or popcorn), and used the bubble wand, and/or gave them some ibuprofen, and everyone felt better pretty quick. We never tried to do fireworks, we were all done by 8 so always left after dinner. The only park we closed down was EPCOT because we didn't get out of dinner until after close, and that was a really cool experience, the park was so quiet and empty and beautiful!
-- You don't NEED a Magic Band... but man, was it convenient. We just had 1.0 Magic Bands though, we didn't bother with the 2.0s.
-- I guess moving through security fast is important to people rope dropping... but as someone who didn't, it added like maybe 30 seconds to a minute to the experience the couple times my bag got flagged, it's really not a big deal.
-- I'm not saying anyone's lying about bad experiences or exaggerating or anything, but try to remember that far more people go on the Internet to complain than they do to praise. I got so stressed about all the things that could go wrong, and we had a pretty much perfect trip. The only attraction that broke down on us was Muppetvision, of all things. The only "bad behavior" we witnessed was the morning we were leaving, we could hear a dad across the hall yelling at his family, I think they overslept and were going to miss their flight or something? We just turned the TV on so we didn't have to hear him. A couple times we forgot to take our stuff with us when we parked our stroller or forgot some food in it, and neither people nor animals bothered it. The only dicey thing that happened to us was me dropping my phone into the Dumbo moat, the cast members fished it out and it still worked, I sent them a cast compliment for all their help! All the cast members were great, I'm not really sure what people expect but IMO they all do amazing for having to be peppy and helpful all day in absolutely blazing heat, walking a ride conveyer belt nonstop, repeating the same spiels over and over, meeting person after person, etc. I wouldn't last a 2 hour shift let alone 8. Cast members, you rock!!!
✈️TRAVEL✈️
-- We flew Delta, flight there was flawless, flight home was delayed by an hour waiting for crew and was a little bumpy (which is not great for a nervous flyer like me) but otherwise fine.
-- Get TSA PreCheck! Good for a few years, if the adults have it the kids have it too. It made the whole experience so much easier. That said, even PreCheck still moves kind of slow at MCO, so definitely get there at least 2 hours early for your flight. Use curbside check-in for bags, way faster than the long line inside!
-- On our agent's recommendation, we used Away We Go for ground transport in Orlando. They communicate really well, both ways were flawless, no complaints!
-- We used Minnie Vans to get to Animal Kingdom + Sanaa and Magic Kingdom, what a wonderful service! Definitely pricey, but they had cartoons on in the car, booster seats they set up for you, and the drivers were so nice and friendly and had fun trivia to share. I never had any problem requesting one when I needed it.
⛱️BEACH CLUB⛱️
-- We knew we wanted an onsite hotel where you could walk to at least one park. This pretty much limits you to a handful of Deluxe hotels or the Swan and Dolphin. Beach Club won for us because it's "in the Disney bubble" and you can walk to 2/4 parks. Note that while you can technically walk to Hollywood Studios, it is a LOOOONG walk. The boat is a nice not crowded alternative! We did not make use of Early Entry or Extended Hours, we're just not built for either. Beach Club was lovely, we booked a resort view but I think we ended up with a water view, we were right by the quiet pool and could see the water beyond from our room. Stormalong Bay was a little crazy for us but we loved the quiet pool. Best thing about Beach Club though is the location, EPCOT is literally steps away!
🌳ANIMAL KINGDOM🌳
-- We had read that there's really no bad day to do AK, so we started there. We rode: Navi River Journey, Flight of Passage, Kali River Rapids, Everest, Kilimanjaro Safaris, Triceratops Spin, and Dinosaur--so pretty much everything! With Genie+ we walked onto all of them. We also met Moana, Pocahontas, and Russell! The only thing we didn't do here that we wanted to was the Gorilla Falls trail, but we just ran out of time before the park closed.
🌐EPCOT🌐
-- We had read to avoid EPCOT on Fridays and Saturdays, so we went on Wednesday. We rode: Grand Fiesta Tour, Living with the Land, Nemo, Spaceship Earth, Imagination with Figment, Frozen, Remy, Journey of Water, and Guardians--everything we wanted! Again, with Genie+, we walked right onto everything! Outside of our character meal (more on that in the dining section!), we also met Anna, Elsa, and Asha! Tried a couple of Flower and Garden snacks: chicken and waffles, fruit and cheese strudel, and potato pancakes, all were delicious! Everyone had a different favorite day, but EPCOT was personally my favorite day, it felt like we were firing on all cylinders and the day just went really smoothly!
🏰MAGIC KINGDOM🏰
-- We had read that Wednesdays were the quietest days at MK, so we were originally going to try to do it that day, but we could only get a reservation for Cinderella's Royal Table on Thursday, so we switched it up. Definitely the most crowded of all the parks we visited, but I think that's just the norm for MK, everyone wants to go to the castle park with the most rides. We rode: Regal Carousel, Tomorrowland Speedway, Barnstormer, Magic Carpets, Mad Tea Party, People Mover, Dumbo, Small World, Little Mermaid, Pirates, Space Ranger Spin, Jungle Cruise, TRON, and Peter Pan. Again, with Genie+, we walked right onto everything! The only ride we missed at this park that we wanted to do was Pooh, I couldn't manage to get a return time that was earlier than we planned on leaving. Outside of our character meals (more on those in the dining section!) we also met Mirabel, Tiana, and Rapunzel! We had both the Rapunzel and Aurora ice creams, both so good and cute!
🎬HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS🎬
-- We had read that, like MK, it's better to do HS later in the week, so we went Friday. We rode: Slinky, Alien Saucers, Toy Story Mania, Rise, Smuggler's Run, Runaway Railway. Again, with Genie+, we walked right onto everything! The only ride we missed was Tower of Terror, again I couldn't manage to get a return time that was earlier than we planned on leaving. We also met Olaf, be aware Olaf doesn't sign stuff, they just give you a signature card. This park needs more shade IMO, especially Toy Story Land, I know it's supposed to be Andy's backyard, but I don't see why that means we can't have some shade from trees or something. 🤪 Blue milk from Galaxy's Edge was really good, the family was all fighting over it!
🍽️DINING🍽️
-- We almost certainly lost some money on the DDP, but I'm still glad we got it because it allowed us to do more table service meals and have less stress overall about expenses. We easily used up everything but child quick service credits, we had a few of those left over near the end.
Here's where we ate!
BOARDWALK DELI/PIZZA WINDOW: Pizza for the kids, sandwiches for the adults. Tasty and satisfying after our day of travel!
BEACHES AND CREAM: Got the kitchen sink for the experience, but honestly it's not great, all the ice cream and toppings melt together quick and you just end up with weird ice cream soup.
SAT'ULI CANTEEN: LOVED this place, everything was so yummy! Best quick service we had!
SANAA: Since Animal Kingdom closes so early, we thought we'd try to extend the experience by eating at Sanaa. What a great idea, we got seated right by a window and saw so many animals! The food was great too.
AKERSHUS: Our favorite princess meal! We met Aurora, Tiana, Snow White, Ariel, and Belle. They were all lovely, and the breakfast was really good too. Only 1 credit on the DDP!
GARDEN GRILL: Our kids really enjoyed getting to look down over Living with the Land and the fact that the restaurant spins. We met Farmer Mickey, Pluto, and Chip and Dale. They were fun and even came to our table more than once. Food was good!
SPACE 220: Not on the DDP, but wow, what a cool restaurant! Almost like a ride with the theming and the elevator up. Food was really good.
CINDERELLA'S ROYAL TABLE: You gotta eat in the castle! We paid for it OOP because we didn't want to use up 2 DDP credits here. You're really going for the location and the princesses, the food is kinda meh, not bad but not as good as other places. The restaurant is small and they have to turn tables quick, so it's very understandable to me that the princesses have to move fast. It's not that they rush you, they'll take all the pictures you ask for and sign whatever and answer your questions, but if you don't have much you need, they try to keep moving. Akershus is much bigger so they are able to be more relaxed there. The only small bummer is that we didn't see Merida (maybe she was on vacation too!) We did meet Cinderella, Ariel, Jasmine, and Aurora though!
CRYSTAL PALACE: We are not big on buffets but we enjoyed meeting Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore and Tigger!
TOPOLINO'S: Maybe the best food of the trip, steak and eggs were so good! The character artist costumes are so cute too. It was fun to have an excuse to ride the Skyliner to get here from Beach Club too.
DOCKING BAY 7: The theming is great, but the food wasn't as good as Satuli Canteen IMO.
THE MARKET AT ALE & COMPASS: We had quick service credits we wanted to use up on the last day and we didn't want to leave the resort again, otherwise I would have gone somewhere else, food was meh.
✨EXTRAS✨
-- I originally wanted to book Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique for my kids, but it's so expensive/competitive that I decided to didn't want the stress. Instead I booked Have Wand, Will Travel to come to our room and bought dresses from Presley Couture and Only Little Once. I chose Have Wand, Will Travel because they keep character throughout. Fairy Godmother Elyse was amazing and so much fun, my kids loved it and kept talking about it all day!
-- That same morning I ordered a Sammicakes breakfast box with beignets for us to eat. I also ordered a pretend letter from The DCP and Me on Etsy to make it seem like the breakfast came from Tiana. My kids also loved this and had fun telling Tiana about it both times we met her. Sammicakes was good but a LOT of food, sadly we didn't end up eating half of it. It can last you at least 3 days!
-- We had Birthdays and More decorate our door, it was a really fun surprise for the kids on our first day and made our room easy to find. The kids also loved reusing the decorations at home on their own doors!
-- Matching shirts and ear hats, all from Etsy! So many cool designs there, hardest part is choosing!
-- Got my kids a pin trading lanyard with some pins, they loooooved pin trading! It was like free souvenirs.
🧳PACKING🧳
-- Things the Internet Told Me to Pack That I Needed: Scissors, ziploc bags, ibuprofen (kids and adults), garbage bags, big carabiners to hook on the strolleuse to carry multiple bags at once.
-- Things the Internet Told Me to Pack that I Didn't Need: stainless steel straws (the paper straws are more like hard cardboard, they really don't break down unless your kid is gnawing on them or something), ponchos (it did rain some most days, but wearing a poncho was almost more miserable than not wearing one, it's so hot and humid to be walking around in a plastic bag! We did better taking shelter and using umbrellas.), wipes (obv you need them if your kid is younger, but mine were older and just never got messy enough to need them), glow sticks (we never stayed anywhere long enough to use them), bottled wateLiquid IV (the tap water tasted the same as home to us, but we live in a rural area so maybe we are just used to imperfect water?) Basically, the less you can get away carrying in the parks, the better. It's annoying to lug stuff around you don't end up needing or using!
🛞STROLLER🛞
-- I know it seems insane that your 5 year old and 9 year old will need a stroller, but mine definitely did. Once I accepted that I was going to have to get one, I tried to make the best of it, and actually got really into decorating it so we could always easily spot it in the sea (the decorations also later made nice wall decor for a gallery of our trip!) The Magic Spotter flag was the best investment, hardly anyone had them so it was easy to instantly spot our stroller anywhere we left it, even if it got moved. That said, I definitely didn't want to spend a lot on a stroller we were really only buying for this one trip, so I got a used Joovy Caboose on Facebook Marketplace for $50. It was very hard to handle with two older kids in it, and even with one it was hard to handle unless the kid was in the back seat. So we basically used it like a single stroller, glad I didn't spend a lot on it since it was so hard to drive!
☔WEATHER☔
-- We had mostly great weather, it rained some every day except Magic Kingdom day but it passed within an hour each time. We wore socks with Crocs so that if/when it rained, we could just take our wet socks off and walk in our Crocs, this worked great! Don't trust the weather reports though, two days it wasn't supposed to rain. One day it actually didn't, the other day it did and we had to walk in wet shoes because we didn't wear the Crocs that day. Just figure it might rain any day and be prepared! See above note RE: ponchos being not great and shelter + umbrellas being better. When it didn't rain, It. Was. Hot. 🥵 In the 90s but definitely felt hotter with the humidity making it so sticky. We felt there was plenty of shade at Animal Kingdom and EPCOT, but hardly any at Magic Kingdom and Hollywood Studios, which I would say slightly affected how much fun we had on those days comparatively.
Phew! That's about it, let me know if you have any questions!

The damn Temple of Gales…. I hate it so much. I’ve been playing for like 9 months and I put off this quest because I saw how much other players were struggling with it, and with the mess of bugs added in… I ain’t got time for it. However, I recently started decorating one of my many empty plots with a sort of witchy, magic vibe and desperately want Flow Trees on it- so I need to knock this Temple out to get to the Temple of Roots (from my understanding?).
While looking for the warm Silverwing eggs I also collected the Flow Bugs and Ancient Cloudminnows I knew I would need. I struggled to get the Flow Gates open for the twins forever the other day and gave up out of frustration. I put all the Flow Bugs and Cloudminnows in my storage… but now one of my Cloudminnows is missing. I don’t know if I accidentally cooked it (I don’t think I’ve made any fish dishes) and I know for a fact I did not sell it by mistake…. But it’s gone. Now when I try to fish it says there are no fish in any of the ponds.
Is there any way to remedy this other than reaching out to support? I’m 99% sure I had 5 in storage but now I only have 4. I finally got the Flow Gates for the twins open and was hoping that would reset the ponds when I got Caleri over but it didn’t. Why does this idiotic quest allow me to catch an infinite number of Flow Bugs and not Ancient Cloudminnows?! UGH.

Being a natural skeptic, this is a story I never thought I’d be telling. I grew up reading those short, half-edited horror stories that were so popular on the internet, scaring myself out of sleep too many times to count as a kid. These days, I’m still too scared to fall asleep, just like I was when I was 11 reading stories on boards I had no business browsing. This time, though, it isn’t typed words on my aging laptop that have my heart unable to beat calmly in my chest. It isn’t the long traded campfire story that has the hairs on my neck standing in unease.
It’s the envelope sitting on my desk, taunting me as I glance at it from across the room. The top torn open haphazardly, its contents situated neatly against the worn wood grain.
It’s the words that are typed so neatly along the page, bringing back every foul memory I can conjure.
“Thank you for donating.
Come back and see us again soon,
Mr. Weller.”
~
The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting a golden hue over the endless river of asphalt stretching out before me. This highway, flanked by gnarled mesquite trees and sporadic billboards advertising the next southern baptist church, had become somewhat of a familiar friend over the years. It was the unofficial gateway between my life at college and my small hometown nestled on the border of Texas and Louisiana.
I adjusted my review mirror, catching a glimpse of my own tired reflection. Summer break was finally here and I had high-tailed it from the campus as soon as my last final exam hit my professor’s desk. Gone was the grueling cycle of exams, papers, and endless nights spent hunched over textbooks. Whoever said that the college years were the best of their life needed to find the nearest sharp object to take a seat on.
As I drove, the familiar scenery slipping by in a soothing blur, my phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts. The screen flashed “Mom”, causing the involuntary roll of my eyes.
“Hey, Mom, I’m on the road. What’s up,” I spoke into the phone, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice.
”Hi, sweetheart! How close are you to home?” Her voice was warm and overly sweet, exactly the tone she used when she was about to ask for an inconvenient favor.
“Probably a few hours out. Why?”
“Perfect! Listen, can you do me a favor and pick up a case of beer for your dad? He invited his friends over tonight and I don’t have time to run to the store with all the cooking-,” she explained quickly, probably sensing my sigh of annoyance before I could even take a breath.
”Mom,” I interrupted evenly, “you do realize there are, like, zero places to stop for miles, right? The last couple hours are practically deserted.”
“I know, but most gas stations always have the kind your dad likes. Just stop at the next one you see, okay?”
I groaned internally, glancing at my half full gas gauge. I had filled up the tank this morning specifically so I wouldn’t have to stop once on the drive.
“Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”
”You’re the best,” Mom sighed in relief, her tone calm again. “Drive safe, honey.”
With that, she hung up, leaving me to the rhythmic drone of the road and my dusty second hand CD’s once again.
I kept my eyes peeled for the next gas station, hoping to get the beer run out of the way sooner rather than later. About 20 minutes after Mom’s call, a rundown gas station came into view, its neon sky flickering erratically against the dusky sky. Like most gas stations in the middle-of-nowhere-south, it looked like it hadn’t seen a renovation since at least the 70’s.
Pulling in, I parked next to a rusted out pickup and stepped out, the heat and humidity immediately oppressive. The place reeked of old oil and dust, the air thick with the smell of mildew. I made my way inside, the crude “bell” over the door made of old fishing lures and soda caps jingling half-heartedly as I entered.
If I thought the outside of the joint was sad, the inside was plain pathetic. Dimly lit and cluttered with off brand snacks and outdated magazines, I wouldn’t be surprised if it hadn’t been stocked since at least the 70’s. I quickly located the cooler, grabbing a case of Keystone Light and headed to the counter. I tried not to breathe the air in too deeply, a little afraid of whatever strange diseases probably lingered.
The attendant behind the counter was a greasy, wiry man with sunken eyes and a gaunt face. He glanced up from his equally disheveled book, watching me approach with an intensity that made me uneasy. Placing the beer on the counter, I fished out my license, hoping to make this transaction as quick as possible. He eyed me while I pulled my wallet out, his voice reeking of prolonged cigarette and cheap whiskey.
“Headed to Texas?” he gruffed.
I nodded slowly, trying to piece together how he knew. I was still at least an hour and a half from the border. “Yeah, lucky guess.” I chuckled uneasily.
”Not lucky at all,” he drawled out, “Saw yer license plate.”
I turned towards the glass door, seeing the direct line to my car.
“Ah,” I responded, not quite sure what else to add as I put down my drivers license next to the case of beer.
Is this how social interactions at gas stations are supposed to go?
The greasy man picked up my license, his gaze lingering on it a bit too long as he rang the beer up without glancing at the register.
“You’re an organ donor,” he remarked, casual, as if it were something he asked every day.
Nope. Definitely not a normal interaction.
”Uh, yeah. Just in case, I guess.”
He handed back the license and I fought the urge to wipe whatever strange grime he accumulated on his hands off my card.
“Makes you a good person,” he nodded, offering me a rotted grin.
I forced a smile, increasingly eager to get the hell out of this place. “How much?”
”Fifteen seventy three.” He replied, his accent catching over the vowels.
I handed over two wrinkled 10s, wondering if I should tell him to keep the change so I wouldn’t have to handle anything else he touched. Before I could decide, the man spoke again, peering back at the door.
”Yer headed the wrong way if yer trynna get to Texas. Should take the next left up ahead.”
I frowned, unable to keep up my polite mask much longer. “The road’s straight the whole way,” I argued, “I’ve driven it a hundred times.”
The grimy mess of a man simply smiled, a thin, almost predatory smile.
“Only bein polite. Suit yerself”
I took my change and beer, muttering a quick thanks before bolting it out of there. The encounter left an uncomfortable feeling in my chest, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of those piercing eyes on my back as I walked to my car.
Last time I do a favor for mom, I thought dramatically.
Once inside the safety of my car, I locked the doors and started the engine, eager to put distance between myself and that disgusting gas station. The man’s words and shit-eating grin echoed in my mind, but I dismissed them. The road home was straight, I knew that much for certain.
As the miles ticked by, I found myself turning the music up louder and louder, trying to shake off the unease from the encounter. I tried focusing on the familiar landmarks and the lyrics of the songs I’d heard a thousand times. Thankfully, it only took a few songs for it to work.
The sun began to dip lower into the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the road. I figured I was about an hour from home at this point, my mind itching to be home.
It took me longer than I’d like to admit to see that something was seemingly… wrong.
When I glanced to the side, expecting fields of unkempt brush and patches of cactus, instead I saw short, twisted trees. My eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of the misplaced flora. I let off the gas slightly, slowing down the car to take in the patches of damp, soggy earth peppering the fields. I looked behind me, my brain desperate to rationalize the sudden change of environment. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach.
This wasn’t right. I had driven this route countless times and the scenery had never changed so drastically. How in the world had I driven myself into a bog?
The road, usually straightforward and predictable, now seemed to wind and twist as my car crept along it, each bend revealing more of the eerie, waterlogged terrain. Doubts crept in, swift and harsh. Had I missed a turn? Was that psycho right after all?
The feeling of unease grew stronger with each passing mile. The familiar landmarks were gone, replaced by dense foliage and the occasional decrepit and rotted building. I glanced at my phone, picking it up in hopes of checking my GPS, but my heart sank when I saw the “no service” icon in the corner.
Panic began to set in, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I needed to find a way back to the main road, or at least to a road sign.
Just as the sense of dread threatened to overwhelm me, I spotted a building up ahead, its bright lights cutting through the encroaching darkness of dusk. Relief flooded through me. Whatever this place is, surely someone in there can tell me where I got turned around.
However, the sight before me only had my eyebrows furrowing deeper. A clean, well-lit, white building stood amidst the desolate landscape, almost cartoonishly out of place. It looked brand new, too pristine for its surroundings. Like a beacon of hope in a sea of… muck.
Desperation overrode my hesitancy of such a place, fueling my decision to pull over. I parked my car in the well-paved lot, comforted by the other vehicles sitting under the bright lights.
I made my way to the entrance, the glass doors sliding open smoothly as I approached. The stark white walls and sterile smell hit me immediately, a stark contrast to the humid smell of wood rot outside.
Is this some sort of clinic?
I paused as I looked around, my eyes landing on a front desk. A cheery looking woman with a bright smile sat behind it, her eyes already on me.
”Good evening! Are you here to donate?” she called out, her voice light and airy.
I turned back to the door for a moment, my instincts not quite thrilled being in such a strange place, but the idea of trying to get myself un- lost in the dark pushed me further towards the front desk.
”Uh, no. I’m actually lost,” I responded, giving the woman a weak smile. “I’m trying to get to Texas and I think I may have taken a wrong turn. Can you point me in the right direction?”
Her smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. Disappointment? Annoyance? It was hard to tell.
”Of course, sugar. But why don’t you take a seat first?”
I glanced around to what I now assumed was a waiting room. The occupants were an odd assortment of characters, each making me more uneasy than the last. An elderly man in disheveled clothes sat closest, muttering to himself while looking straight through me.
A few seats down sat a young woman with stringy hair, as if she had just gotten out of the shower. Her eyes looked red and puffy and I could only assume she either was terribly allergic to bogs, or she had been crying for a while.
Next, a man with a little girl sitting beside him caught my attention. The girl clutched a small stuffed bunny, her eyes regarding me curiously. She seemed to be the only person aware of my existence and I threw a small smile her way. Her eyes shifted immediately, darting nervously back to the man beside her. The man had no reaction, continuing to stare straight ahead with a vacant expression.
Lastly, a businessman sat in the corner, his wrinkled suit and messy hair contradicting his aloof demeanor. He held a phone to his ear, checking his watch intermittently. The whole scene of the room reeked of impatience and unease, making my skin crawl.
What the hell is this place?
I turned back to the front desk, forcing a smile. “Listen, ma’am. I’m really just looking for directions. I don’t need an appointment.”
The woman tilted her head slightly, her smile never wavering. “Mr. Weller can see you for a donation. It won’t take long.”
“I really don’t have time for that. I just need to get back on the road,” I insisted, the edge of desperation beginning to creep into my voice.
She ignored my plea, typing something into the computer. “Mr. Weller will be with you shortly. Please, take a seat.”
Frustration boiled over. I was about to argue further when I noticed the other patients had started to stare, their gazes heavy and expectant. The atmosphere in the room shifted to feel charged, almost oppressive.
Deciding I had seen quite enough, I muttered quickly. ”Thanks, but I’m going to pass,” and turned on my heel, making a beeline for the exit.
The nurse’s cheerful farewell followed me out, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in my bones.
I hurried back to my car, the clinic’s lights painting long shadows across the parking lot. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I locked the doors and took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The “clinic” had rattled me more than I cared to admit.
As I started the engine and pulled back onto the road, the clinic quickly disappeared from view, swallowed by the hungry night. My mind raced, grappling with the bizarre turn of events. The woman at the front desk’s insistence, the strange people in the waiting room, and the clinic itself…
none of it made sense.
Determined to put this fever dream behind me and find my way home, I refocused on the road ahead, hoping that with a bit of luck, I could retrace my steps and escape this unsettling detour. The landscape grew darker, the swamp closing in around me, but I pressed on, clinging to the desperate hope that familiar sights were just around the next bend.
The feeling of unease clung to me like an unwanted second skin as I drove further on, minutes passing with no change. Eventually, at least an hour passed, the monotony of the road broken only by the occasional curve and the distant croaking of frogs. I had long since shut off my radio, seeing as no amount of Lynyrd Skynyrd could make the situation better.
My eyes strained against the darkness, searching for any road signs or landmarks.
Yet as time wore on, familiar trees passing by, an alarming realization began to settle in.
Despite making no turns. Despite the road seemingly taking me far away,
I was back where I started.
Bright lights pierced the gloom ahead, the parking lot coming into view mocking my attempt to leave. My heart sank, a cold wave of dread washing over me the closer I got.
I was back at the clinic.

Hey all. I started playing Stardew Valley about 2 years ago and initially I was playing on a farm with my husband but I ended up getting so into the game that I started a new farm on my own and have been playing there ever since. My farm progression was....chaotic, for lack of a better word; I wasn't following any Min/Max or Super Optimized methods.
With the 1.6 update out, I want to take some time to tidy up my farm, refocus on some end game money making methods, and just bring in some order. I don't want to go super crazy though; just tuning in the efficiency a bit.
Farm Information (all of this is pre 1.6):

• Fall 28, Year 4. Had 100% perfection. Skills are; Tiller, Artisan, Miner, Prospector, Gatherer, Botanist, Fisher, Angler, Fighter, Defender.
  
• House was fully upgraded + have Krobus as roommate. Greenhouse is repaired and currently has fruit trees, blueberries and strawberries.
  
• 1 Deluxe barn of pigs, 1 Deluxe barn of goat, cows, and 1 Ostrich, 1 Deluxe coop of chickens, ducks, a rabbit and a dinosaur.
  
• Slime hutch.
  
• Unlocked Ginger Island, have all Golden Walnuts, completed all quests on the island. Currently growing Ancient Fruit. Leo is living near Linus.
  
• Setting aside marriage, the arcade games, and some of the Qi weekly quests, I think I had pretty much 100% the game. I caught all the fish, cooked all the foods, crafted all the things, found all of wallet items, the Community Center and Movie theater are built.
  

The main few ways of making money was turning Truffles into Oil, making Ancient Fruit Wine. Was also doing a little bit of farming (mostly to stock myself up for cooking/quests/etc) and processing eggs into Mayo. I've been keeping the cheese because...reasons. I've also been utilizing Preserves Jars for Salmon/Black Berries.
Any advice on how I can make my farm more efficient would be greatly appreciated.

Hello, I am a first time duck owner in Middle Tennessee and I recently had 2 ducks injured while on my pond. Ones toenail broke and was bleeding for hours, the other had a wound on the back of his head that he ended up passing away from (maybe it was shock). Is there something I can do to prevent this from happening? I want them to be able to stay on the pond during the day and go in their coop at night.
I'm really not sure how the one duck died, he was an almost 8 week old Blue Swedish. I have been letting him and 5 other ducks (2 pekin, 2 runners, and 1 other blue swedish) out on our pond since they were 6 weeks. I leave them alone frome time to time and check on them every hour or so. I went to check on them and when I called them in to eat, the one Blue Swedish did not come over. His head was resting on his body and he was just floating in the water, barely moving his legs. I got in the water and pulled him out. I picked up his head and noticed some brown liquid around his neck (probably blood and water). I put him on the ground and called an emergency vet (it was Sunday), they said I should bring him in, it would be $175 just to see what was going on then they'd go from there...not really what I wanted to hear, and they were 45 min away. He had a dime sized section of feathers missing on the back of his neck, it didn't look deep it was like it just grazed his skin. It wasn't bleeding anymore. We figured we should just wait and see how he was since it wasn't bleeding (maybe not the best idea, but I didn't know what else to do). He tried to walk around and seemed to want to get in the water again. I thought he should stay put on the ground but he was persistent and my mother thought it'd be ok if he went out. He was on the water for a couple minutes, then he started acting weird and kind of twitching, then his head flopped over in the water. We jumped in the pond and scooped him out. I said we should go to the vet, we all got in the car and I was carrying him wrapped up in a towel. We were only a minute down the road when I checked his heartbeat and I couldn't find one. It was maybe an hour after we found him injured. (And I had just checked on them an hour before then and all seemed fine)
The pond is maybe half an acre, there are fish and turtles in the pond. I'm not sure if there are any snapping turtles, but maybe. The ducks like to hang out under this little willow tree, it's kinda like a bush almost. There are red-winged blackbirds that like to hang out in that tree, but there are no nests in it. There are hawks and eagles that fly nearby, but I've never seen them fly over the pond, just vultures.
I'm not sure what could've hurt him. Could it have been another duck? I was pretty sure the blue swedish was a boy and I think one of the pekins may be a boy too. I know males fight eachother, but they were raised together and I've never seen them get aggressive.
After all that...yesterday one of the Pekin was laying out of the water and I noticed some blood on the side of her head by her ear. I thought the same thing had happened to her. I picked her up and sat down with her. I noticed her middle toe nail was almost completely gone and it was bleeding a lot. I looked up what to do and put some gauze on it then got a tub with water and hydrogen peroxide and put her feet in it, she was not crazy about that and wouldnt stay in it. I decided to put her inside in a bathtub and poured some hydrogen peroxide on her foot. We saw you can put cornstarch on the toe to stop the bleeding. We did it several times and she was bleeding on and off. I filled the tub with warm water and epsom salt and she liked that. We had guaze and kept pressure on it when she wasnt in water. After about 5/6 hours, she had stopped bleeding. I put her back in the coop with the others who were very concerned about her and sectioned her off with puppy pads below her. She's doing find this morning, no blood and the toe looks ok. She is eating and drinking normally. I'm not sure if any of the pad of her foot is missing, I would say a little more than half her nail is gone. She'll be 8 weeks tomorrow, probably about 7-8 pounds. I'm not sure how she could've caught the nail one something, or if something bit it off.
I feed them in the morning around 7am, after letting them out to the pond. I feed them throughout the day and they eat when they're hungry. I have a cup of food that I shake to call them in and I give them dinner in their coop (8x12). I have a 3 gallon waterer that I leave in the coop over night and clean it out each morning (they go through more than half, they spill a lot too). During the day they drink from the pond. I know I'm probably doing a lot wrong.
After the one died, I put some probiotic and electrolyte powder in their water to help in case they were stressed. I put some NuBiotic Oregano oil in the Pekins water to help prevent infection as well as the probiotic and electrolyte powder.
Has anyone had a similar experience? Should I be doing anything differently? I thought if they were older than 5 weeks they'd be fine on the pond, they're quite big now.
Any advise would help! Thank you!
I acknowledge that Reddit is not a substitute for veterinary advice.