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<![CDATA[Homebrew Deviants Forums - [OFFICIAL PROJECTS]]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/ Tue, 12 May 2026 23:31:37 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[THE WORLD that Hates You [MASA ZERO}]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-965.html Wed, 15 Oct 2025 17:20:47 +0000 ThreadLurkingComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-965.html
[Image: Swansong%20Final%201-1.png]

[image description: Our protagonist and perspective character, standing in a ominous castle hallway. His clothes are tattered, worn, stained in blood. His face is cut off by the frame. He has fought many battles.]

For the past god knows how long you've spend your days fighting through towers that tear the sky, each one punctuated with the ambiance of a hallway before its respective lord casually rips you a new one.

Break rooms, last bastions of rest and light that gnaw you with anxiety for what's to come next.

Increasingly taller pillars that make the world look smaller.

That make it more obvious that you are no longer the same as the world you're leaving behind with each conquest.

You stopped being what many would consider human a long time ago.

You doubt you're still a good person.

You absolutely cannot return to a good night's sleep ever again.

You exist to kill the world that hates you.

"You doing alright kid?"

Your mentor behind you checks in on you, his voice kept you company on this journey longer than anyone else.

Much as I can be...

"'bout the answer I expected, yeah... take a breather."

Doing that..

"If you're on the verge of hyperventilating, it's not really a breather."

You're right.

"Just a few more to go."

Feel like I've heard that a lot by now... You know what happens next? Like, after all this?

"Never made it this far before so... no. Shit as me smoking a pack a day lately."

Should really stop..

"I know.."

Does it bother you?

"Yeah, good amount. Half of me says that's plenty, my soul can relax knowing I did this much. But don't really believe that til I see it all through to the end."

Scares me...

[image description: The mentor looking back at the protagonist. His lens are cracked, his smirk is cocky, you see him mostly in silhouette, Behind stands the decaying previous room, horrific gazes watching though the cracks. The world is ending in front of everyone.]

"It should, nothing about this is right."

All this fighting, the killing.. it never feels good but it doesn't really hurt anymore. You get me?

"Yeah, a lot."

Used to throw up, used to cry. Now I just.. don't. I used to feel bad for the other guy but.. a lot of the time it feels like they had it coming, you know? For putting us all through this at all.

"You're still restless about it, yeah? Feels wrong that it doesn't feel wrong anymore."

Guess so.

"Then you still got your heart intact."

Mmmm.. are you really gonna stick it out? Like.... I dunno.

"What do you mean?"

Everyone who got us this far's either had to drop off cause they couldn't keep going or well..

"Yeah I know."

At some point you too, right? You leave or you die?

"Haven't hit my wall just yet."

The last few of these got close....

"If I leave you on your own now, your odds are worse. 'sides, know you'd get lonely fast."

I don't want you to die just because-!

"Then I won't."

You can't fucking promise that!! Too many people said the same thing and-!"

"And I'm still here after everything. I'm washed up, old, still somehow got that in me. You know why?"

No...

"Cause your mom would kill me if I didn't push through."

Mm..

"You want to survive as long as you can? Worry about someone else as much as yourself. Make some miracles."

You're so weird sometimes...

"Gotta be. Strange world, stranger people... you wanna do a little meditative work before we go on ahead? Kill some nerves?"

Yeah please..

"Alright... I want you to remember from where you came."

_______________

This is not a interactive project, The beginning of the end is locked in place.

This is a story of a cursed world and the child destined to take it with them.

However, your blessings are welcome no matter how small.

Let's keep things simple.

Name the Ferryman.

[image description: Our protagonist, young and intense. He is a cartoon anthro rabbit. He is dressed in a coat with a baseball cap marked with some offmodel alchmey symbol, hair messy. He is drawn incredibly angular. His eyes are red in a otherwise monochrome piece of art. It appears to be a mugshot on a poster, the words "WANTED" are bold and red. There's ominous cryptic text in the background.]

Offer them a tribute of their favorite meal.

Which of these items sparked their curiosity?

P* C* A* - A Romance novel following the consequences of a couple who were never meant to meet, banned from a number of schools including yours.

The Crowned Land - A historical fiction piece centered around a Knight and her plight to kill the 7 Dragons in order to free her people. May be taking artistic liberties.

Return to the Origin: Will the Shrimp Fry? - A speculative book about how the future of bioengineering may be sea life, often considered crackpot conspiracy despite claims of "insider knowledge"

When mind and body are attuned, the child's adventure will begin.

The world's end starts on the day after Darkest Night, when the most spirits are said to walk the Earth.

You are this world's euthanasia, you will walk the path of most suffering.

Kill it out of kindness.

Until the time comes, please stay safe.]]> <![CDATA[[IMPROMPTU] Text for Service]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-964.html Wed, 08 Oct 2025 07:29:43 +0000 knux400]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-964.html
...

...

...It's officially been 4 hours now. There's no clock on the wall or anything, but I've been counting on my phone.

The receptionist saw us, took Stream in, and then... nothing. Total silence.
Not a single person has come in or out of the waiting room since the receptionist left. They haven't even come back to their spot. If anyone else were here, they'd be worse off than we are right now.

It was 9:43 when we came in. It's now pushing midnight.

I've already shouted into all the hallways I can see from here, and I've rung the bell on the counter so many times I'm surprised it hasn't exploded or something. I sigh and glance around again. I don't know why, it's the same damn room I've been glancing at for hours. I feel like I've memorized every inch of this place.

Except...

No.

That sign was not there before. There's no way I wouldn't have seen it before now.

It's mounted onto the wall in a little frame, for crying out loud. There's no way anyone could have put it up when I wasn't looking. Did I doze off for a while? I might have. I don't remember.

"TEXT 22977 FOR HELP"

That's it. No indication of what to text, or how this would help me in any way. Muttering under my breath, I pull out my phone.

(776)-832867: im in the waiting room and the receptionist hasnt come back. can you tell me how my friend is doing?
(776)-832867: my name is Balld'r Slatecase. remember to put the apostrophe in otherwise it wont come up. friend's name is Stream Corobanon. i brought him in for a persistent migraine and the receptionist said theyd check him out?? didnt get her name but shes literally the only one here i think.
(776)-832867: is anyone in the building rn???

There. A bit rude, but it's not like it's unwarranted at this point. I let my hand drop to my side and lean back in the awful waiting room chair, sighing.]]>
...

...

...It's officially been 4 hours now. There's no clock on the wall or anything, but I've been counting on my phone.

The receptionist saw us, took Stream in, and then... nothing. Total silence.
Not a single person has come in or out of the waiting room since the receptionist left. They haven't even come back to their spot. If anyone else were here, they'd be worse off than we are right now.

It was 9:43 when we came in. It's now pushing midnight.

I've already shouted into all the hallways I can see from here, and I've rung the bell on the counter so many times I'm surprised it hasn't exploded or something. I sigh and glance around again. I don't know why, it's the same damn room I've been glancing at for hours. I feel like I've memorized every inch of this place.

Except...

No.

That sign was not there before. There's no way I wouldn't have seen it before now.

It's mounted onto the wall in a little frame, for crying out loud. There's no way anyone could have put it up when I wasn't looking. Did I doze off for a while? I might have. I don't remember.

"TEXT 22977 FOR HELP"

That's it. No indication of what to text, or how this would help me in any way. Muttering under my breath, I pull out my phone.

(776)-832867: im in the waiting room and the receptionist hasnt come back. can you tell me how my friend is doing?
(776)-832867: my name is Balld'r Slatecase. remember to put the apostrophe in otherwise it wont come up. friend's name is Stream Corobanon. i brought him in for a persistent migraine and the receptionist said theyd check him out?? didnt get her name but shes literally the only one here i think.
(776)-832867: is anyone in the building rn???

There. A bit rude, but it's not like it's unwarranted at this point. I let my hand drop to my side and lean back in the awful waiting room chair, sighing.]]> <![CDATA[Real Mulligan [Crownkiller Mulligan]]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-961.html Fri, 05 Sep 2025 19:41:44 +0000 ThreadLurkingComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-961.html A relaunch of Mulligan to move away from the interactive format in favor of the monthly release style adopted by other projects such as Crankshaft and Refurbished. Recommended as a starting point for new readers.

This is the story of the heroes that were remembered and their comrades history forgot.

A time where the machine became standarized and the last of the old magic was snuffed out.

Everyone started here.

The core perspective cast is split between:

Tiles Tutor: The Executioner: A knight of endless resolve who carries the burden of wearing her fallen guild's name. (She/Her)

Eddie Gallows: The Comedian: A failed champion from another land host to a otherworldly merchant. (He/Him)

"The Starman": The Prisoner: A leader who's ability to organize chaos is practically an art. (They/Them)

The Starman and the Refugee Prince Part 1
Perspective: Gallows
The Arrival of The Comedian in the Land of Crowns and the interview that follows

[Image: Mulligan%201-1%20Small.png]

The Starman: New recruit, rescued from the shores after locking directly into our radio frequency. Comes from far away but talks like a local. Bunny in a dress with a tiny boat, traveling incredibly light on anything useful.

Gallows: That sounds about right, yes-

The Starman: Excommunicated and escaping the scene of a war. That the overall gist?

Gallows Mm...

The masked rebel tilts their head at you, clothes soaked in rain and days since your last meal.

Under most circumstances you'd offer a handshake or a smile but you feel especially pathetic today.

The Starman: Then I gotta give my crew a bonus for managing to handle that job so clean. Transcripts are hard when you got a panicked soul on the other end. Aye?

Suppose so..

Gallows: Given.

the Starman: Know a little bit of the civil war going on in Zero Paradiso. Refugee?

Gallows: Something like that, bit on someone's shitlist.

The Starman: In on that chaos then. Former combatant.

Gallows: Not a very good one admittedly. Marked for death, became ultimately a liability to the people I was hiding with. Their suggested, had to argue a good bit before I finally caved...

The Starman: You've been running non stop since.

Gallows: Aye..

Their face tilts toward your horns, one broken off.

The Starman: Conedia, yeah? No halo, injury. What happened there?

Gallows: Shattered, part of the process when they remove you from the church. Catastrophic for my kind. Bad for health, cuts your lifes down hard.

The Starman: Well.. unfortunately you came to the wrong place if you wanted peace but have to imagine this is the better option.

Gallows: Too many enemies there to make it viable, can never really return methinks.

The Starman: Fair enough. That big dress of yours from back home?

They waggled their finger roughly at your outfit.

You give them a little nod.

The Starman: And it's held up through all that? Must be some kind of special or you're just a little crazy.

Gallows: Both really.

The Starman: Mm, funny type.

Gallows: Not really feeling that tonight to be frank.

The Starman: Suppose that's fair. At the very least we can start looking around for a place to stay long term tomorrow. For now you're more than welcome to the safehouse beds. Sadly this spot's a bit on the smaller end. Can't take risks with folks like you.

Gallows: You think I'd snitch on you?

The Starman: Well you don't seem like a plant but..

Gallows: Go one.

The Starman. You smell like royalty. Type to relapse when offered luxury comforts, no offense.

Gallows: Royalty: You've gotta be mistaken-

They quickly grab you by the wrist and hold up your hand.

Gallows: Need you to let go-

The Starman: Gonna need you to explain something.

They traced a finger do your palm up to your finger.

The Starman: Delicate, soft, never worked a day in your life. Know how Paradise works, care to explain?

Gallows: You don't have to flatter me..

The Starman: I'm not flirting with you, seriously do explain yourself.

Gallows: Look closer, under the sleeves...

Their grip relaxes a little, carefully lifting the sleeves of your dress up enough to catch a glance of something more.

Surgery markings, subtle but patterned like seams on a doll. They tild their head a little, a noise of both concern and amusmenet from them.

The Starman: What'd you have done there?

Gallows: It's a lot to explain, I really would prefer not to-

The Starman: I can tell and unfortunately I can't take chances. Go on.

Gallows: Right now? I'm still not fully dry... Think I'd rather be waterboarded.

The Starman: Please reconsider the words coming from your mouth-

Gallows: Should I start asking you about your mum?

The Starman: I'd rather make a new comrade than have to give you the boot. Until I get the sense I can trust you, you're not leaving this room.

They're not going to let you go without answers...

I could try-

I don't think anything but the truth will save you right now.

I hate this..

No love for it either but I'd like us not to be killed tonight.

The Starman: So? We screen you, things go smooth. We settle you into a nice room and we'll talk further accomidations. Not like you're entering this region legally anyway, options are pretty much exclusively under the table.

Gallows: Are there really no others I can ask for this?

The Starman: I can put in a word but this may be truly what you're looking for most right now. Pretty face like yours will get mugged quickly on the way as well.

Pretty, mm?

Not my type, I'll pass..

If you don't I might...

Gallows: Alright, give me your worst.

The Starman: The obvious first, what's your deal? You had to be something back home.

Gallows: Enforcer for a local gang, had to feed myself and my folks. Candidate for the next Exalted one crops up, only those of a certain blood get to enter the running. Boss' business partner had a kid my age. Thought I could do some change, had a guy who could do a peeling job, replaced everything we could and-

The Starman:... You thought you could make a difference.

Gallows: I mean why not? You've got the same game running at a different table.

The Starman: Really not, you went for some freak shit there. Actually ran for office under another guy's name-

Gallows: It's not a election, it's a trial. Test of character, strength. Bit more complex than that....

The Starman: Deathsport.

Gallows: Not wrong no...

The Starman: So from there?

Gallows: Things didn't go our way, you know enough from here if you're read enough on big international press.

The Starman: God left. People panicked, tensions worsened til the church started a civil war. You wouldn't happen to know where that god went, do you?

Gallows: I have a clue.... as far as what's on record.

The Starman: Off the record?

Gallows: Not one people would like to hear or one I feel comfortable talking in a first meeting. Surely we can have some sense of boundry here, no?

The Starman: You were the one who made it happen. Attacked and dethroned..

Gallows: Can't say for sure. Memory's a blur, I just can't go back without becoming a head on a pike. No crown, expected to become a martyr.

The Starman: And the other guy with you? What's the whole deal there?

Gallows: Other guy-

The Starman: One in your head, I can see your eyes working a little.

Gallows: Just tired is all-

The Starman: Inner monologuing? Having a friend help you pick your words?

This one's a freak..

Gallows: Bout as much as anyone else I think, yeah?

They laugh to themselves a little.

The Starman: True... but the work on your body needs some strong magic you know? Besides..

They maneuver to catch your tail, long and striped and snakey.

You're immediately stiff and unable to react.

This one knows their stuff..

Feels bad....

Speak for yourself, pull harder...

The Starman: I never seen a rabbit with one of these before. That belong the other guy?

They release your tail, body pounding enough that you can feel your own pulse.

The Starman: Double tension, happens when a entity and their client both get caught off guard. I know how Zero Paradiso works enough to know that you're breaking a million rules there. Not that I mind, look for folks with guts like that.

Gallows: Touch me again-

The Starman: I know, sorry to pull that on you but gotta know for sure. Don't fool around with screening around these parts, many counting on places like these. You understand me?

You can't help but maddog them after that.

Are you upset or-

If you like them so much, take point...

You coil your tail on your lap.

The Starman gives you a bit of distance.

The Starman: Sorry, maybe went too far with that one.

You don't have anything nice to say right now.

The Starman: I do gotta talk to the other guy too, much as I like you I can't exactly give them a pass just cause you do. You understand me-

Gallows: Don't touch me again and I'll make it quick.

The Starman: Sorry...

Gallows: If you'd like to talk to the other guy you're more than welcome. Just... don't make any deals and I'd appreciate if you didn't bed him in the first day.

The Starman: Bed him-

Gallows: Not even a thought, I'll know.

The Starman: Easy enough. Show me this "other guy" of yours.

]]> A relaunch of Mulligan to move away from the interactive format in favor of the monthly release style adopted by other projects such as Crankshaft and Refurbished. Recommended as a starting point for new readers.

The Starman and the Refugee Prince Part 1
Perspective: Gallows
The Arrival of The Comedian in the Land of Crowns and the interview that follows

[Image: Mulligan%201-1%20Small.png]

]]> <![CDATA[Fatherless Confessional [Preview Drops]]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-951.html Sun, 08 Jun 2025 23:55:06 +0000 ThreadLurkingComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-951.html THe following thread is chunks of a upcoming Twine project, previews to give a taste for what's to come. Visual assets will be added onto and updated as time goes.

This is a story at another world's end.

You are the one who pulls the trigger.

The legs of your pants were drenched in soil, hands swollen from the urgent gig.



"Need a funeral before sundown, paying triple wage. - Ono."



He was a man from down the street who always kept busy, used to know a guy who said finding work would keep you alive just a bit longer. Maybe it was like that for him.

The most you'd engaged with him in the past is when he'd hand you some bills to pick up something from the local store, let you keep the change and maybe a tip so you know he'd be good for it.


The two of you worked intensively, and he was kind enough to give you plenty of time to break and rest off the load handed to you.

Not once had you looked over and seen him stop to rest himself though....

You were both on a pretty strict timer, a corpse had til the sun goes out before it became trouble. Wispy little shades rotating around the mound like flies had amassed, waiting for nightfall. Proper funeral or torch the body, anything else would be begging for the dead to rise with a soul not its own..

But so long as there was light, it was easy to quash, each mound of dirt like starving a animal in a cage. The body was wrapped and bound together by layers of blankets over plastic sheets, no face to be seen but the form registered more than enough to have you rattled. You should be used to this by now though, right? People bury their folks in their yard plenty these days...

Maybe the idea of this as normal should've never been...

Mr. Ono turned to look at you, always nerve-wracking each time.. Were you doing a bad job? Could he see the ticking in your head? That's not a real thing, people can't do that-

No. He gave you a warm smile through the sweat and tired eyes.

Ono: Think you've had enough, I can cover from here.

He scooted to the side, showing what he'd been working on for the past hour. A pile of stone melded together and prettied up with heat and clay into a grave.

You shook your head at him.

Pato: We're almost done, let me at least-



Ono: He should be fine, ground's been salted proper. From here, it's just making it look nice and clean. Know it's not really ideal these days to most but... think in the end we'd all like a little bit of dignity, yeah?



He placed down he shovel to the side, you followed suit by jabbing the head of the tool into the ground to keep it still. He gave you a bit of stinkeye for it, followed by a smirk that eased tension.

Pato: I do something funny or-



Ono: I mean you're a kid, you're kinda supposed to a little. You're Mrs. Felix's kid if I recall, yeah?


Pato: Yeah, you two know each other?

Ono: Yeah, helped her once with the coin machine at the market I used to work. She was worried the thing was eating her change, so we ended up calling in maintenance. Seemed nice, could tell she was going through it though. Guess everyone is these days.

Pato: Yeah... guess that's really why I'm here, you know? Like...

Ono: Didn't wish you were but... circumstances. I get it.

He goes through a wallet with a thick stack of bills and slaps down practically the entire thing.

Ono: Take it, you've done good work today.



Pato: T-that's so much! I-



Ono: Yeah, and you need it.



Pato: Can I really have this?? Can you even afford to like-



Ono: It's technically his cash, not mine. I asked the family ahead if I could use the money in his wallet to help pay someone to get the job done in time. Said they were fine as long as nothing else was touched. You're all good.

Pato: Know him personally at all?



Ono: Little. Mr. Tuning, bit of a stubborn guy. Whatever he was doing out so late... would hardly call it worth it seeing this. Neighbors informed his family when they found him roasting in the morning sun, found a funeral preferable. Chimed in, told them I'd see what I could do. Think this is solid for how quick this all had to be.

Pato: Hardly knew him then?

Ono: Not enough to call him a friend.

Pato: Doing a lot then.

Ono: Hate to see anyone get mauled, even more have to risk other folks getting hurt by whatever crawls into his flesh like that. People will mourn so at the very least I can offer the comfort of knowing they can visit and give their final respects.

Couldn't disagree too much, just.... a lot to think of when you returned.

Pato: I get you.

Ono: You walked here, yeah?

Pato: Mmhmm! Not too far from here.

Ono: Your mom planning to pick you up? Know we still got a couple hours before we gotta start worrying, but nothing's ever on a strict schedule like that.

He swatted away a few of the nearby shades fluttering about, little forms crumpling like paper and being carried off by the wind. In general, it seemed like they had started to move on or fizzle since their access to a fresh host was more than wasted.

Pato: No she.. doesn't really know honestly. Hates it when I go out to work but I dunno. She need help.


Ono: I see.. Want me to go back with you? Least make sure you get back without issue.

Pato: I'll be fine..

Ono: No good then.



Pato: Mm?

Ono: If you're going to be stubborn the least I can do is make sure you can take full advantage.



He gestured with a finger to stay put before quickly shuffling back inside.



He returns with a steel bat, handle held out to you.



Pato: Are you giving me-



Ono: Those things hate man made steel. Should ward them off if any stragglers show up early, make your house safer. You get a sling and carry that around with you whenever possible, cloth belt works.



Pato: What if I don't care? What if I'm too lazy?



Ono: You'd make your mom sad, no?



Pato: Yeah. I guess.

Ono: Don't get smart with me in a stupid way. Everyone knows that one guy who reuses to get help. Never ends happy for anyone. Nip that in the bud before it becomes a problem. Just scoot back, stay safe and feel free to treat yourselves a little. Live when you still can, si?

You take a moment to let that all process.

Pato: We're alive though right now, yeah?

Ono: Living and being alive are two different things. One's a choice and the other is a state of being. You gotta do both.

Pato: Okay.

Ono: Good.

You stood there awkwardly for a moment.

Ono: That really got you quiet? You're silly.

You finally spoke up, ignoring his comment mostly.

Pato: Are you going to be safe?  Got a place to stay?

Ono: I'll figure it out, got options nearby. For now I say you start scrambling, we good? Before you go... let me just hand you a little something.

He reached deep into his jacket and flashed you a business card. Phone number, radio frequency, his name and occupation listed as "E. Ono, Freelancer."

Is that really a job? You pocket away the card carefully.

Pato: Thank you, I'll keep it around


Ono: Give that to your mom, let her know who you've been around all day. Better to be open about details than make her worry, you know?


Pato: What's your real job? Like, it can't just be this.

Ono: Little bit of everything, bit wordy to explain right now, and just a courtesy after today. If you wanna know leave me a call. Seriously gotta start going now.

Pato: Yeah. Guess I'll see you again?

Ono: Better circumstances next time hopefully. Stay safe.

You start getting your feet going, still facing toward him and giving him a little wave.

Pato: Don't get in trouble!


Ono: Straight home, no side trips or detours!



____

After a bit of a jog, you made it back home without a snag.


Unlocking the door was a bit harder today- you heard a familiar voice greet you.

Mom: Pato!

Pato: Yeah!

Mom: Don't yeah me.


Pato: I can have a yeah today!

Mom: Oh? And why's that?


You finally get the door open.

You wave around the huge stack of bills openly.


Pato: I got the rent!

As she turned to see you she made a bit of a noise, eyes intensively focused on the dirt caked all over you.

Mom: Oh my god! Where were you all day?!

Pato: Doing a quick job, some yardwork. It was pretty easy...

Mom:... Yardwork right now? Who can even-



Pato: Just a neighbor, no big deal. Got paid good.



Mom: These rich folks are going to kill me.. you know you don't have to be doing that...



Pato: School's shut down and all my friends are across town. Don't got anything better right now.

Mom: You're 14.



Pato: So? You worked at 14.


Mom: Illegally! I had to lie and say I was 16, and the other staff blackmailed me with that! Back then we really needed money like that in a way I never want you to have to go through!


Pato: We need it like that today mom...


She tilts her head back before giving out a long sigh.

Mom: Just don't do anything crazy, okay? No selling drugs or guns or-

Pato: You know nobody's gonna let me run around with a gun like that.


Mom: I'm serious.

Pato: I know just...

You frantically pulled the cash out of your pocket.



Pato: At least this one time just.. let me help with rent.



It's insane that even when the world was burning down, rent still existed..



Mom: I love you but.. don't make this a regular thing, okay? I'll always figure it out-



She constantly worked herself to the bone, could she really be promising that?



Pato: You don't do anything crazy too.



A little nod from her.



Mom: I know.



Pato: You have to be careful...



Mom: You're right...



She paused before pointing to the hallway.



Mom: Get yourself cleaned and we’ll heat up something, sound good.



Pato: Yeah.

A quick shower, a change of clothes, and today's fit stuffed into a plastic bag to avoid the dirt going everywhere. It's drenched in enough soil that it'll probably need to be washed on its own.

Be a good idea to handle it yourself to be honest...

You made your way back to the kitchen, having dressed in a plain and loose shirt and baggy pajama pants. Despite how hard it's been to get back and forth lately with limited stock and hours, there was a constant effort from your mom to keep things lively. Autumn flavored scents, warm lighting, and a hot potato dish on the table laid out for you as she washed pots and plates on the side..

Pato: Looks good...

Mom: Always is.

You didn't hesitate to dig in, the savory mix of root veggies and gravy lighting you up in a heartbeat.

Mom: Food's not gonna run away, slow down and savor it!

Pato: Mm... Sorry. Tastes amazing..

Mom: It better, just cause things are crazy out there doesn't mean things gotta be that way here.

Pato: Yeah...

Mom: So?

Pato: Hmm?

Mom: Details! If you're gonna be gone all day I wanna know who you're with.

Pato: Yeah uh.. hold up.

You shuffled around in your pockets before pulling out the business card from earlier. It was still layered with a little mud on the corner.

Your mom took it in hand and gave it a careful look, squinting just a little before a little smile cracks.

Mom: A station number? That's so corny...

Pato: Yeah, you know much about it or-

Mom: It's like... kind of a zodiac thing? Or fortune telling? Old stuff you weren't around for.

Pato: Ah..

She placed the card back down on the table, pointing out the station number.

369.66XM

Mom: People toyed around with what they used to call "Halo Stations", make custom boxes and look around for frequencies. Whole lot of static and nothing, probably was a lot of hearing things that weren't there...

Pato: I was gonna say, XM..

Mom: Probably a lot of loose noise, radiation, I dunno. Your dad had a phase back then.

Pato: Really?

Mom: Mmhmm.

Pato: How come you don't talk about that at all?

Mom: Didn't seem all that big a deal. Got kinda really into it and then dropped it, put it all in a big box in the garage. Tons of money on books and contraptions I never really could get into but... you know, made him excited at the time.

Pato: You still have all of it?

Mom: Yep, are you curious about all that?

Pato: A little.. is it okay if I-

Mom: After you're done and as long as you don't stay up too late.

Pato: Easy..

You quickly finished up what's left of dinner and pocket the card. You started toward the sink to wash your own dish when-

Mom: You don't gotta do that tonight, worked a ton today I can tell.

Pato: A little..

Mom: Yardwork?

Pato: Yeah, with uh.. Mr. Ono down the street.

Mom: I think I remember him, I'll have to thank him at some point.

Pato: Yeah..

Mom: If you get bored I'll be watching TV a bit while I fill out some papers. Maybe pop in?

Pato: Maybe. You remember which box it is?

Mom: One labeled retired. He gave that up pretty hard once he was over it.

Pato: Gotcha, thank you!

With a quick scramble, you've made your way to the garage door. You're careful to make sure both sides are unlocked when you step in, plenty of accidents with that before.

Room is cold, not a touch of insulation against the creaking wooden structure of the walls.

Piles of boxes that make up little towers and seasonal goods stacked up in the corner.

With just a bit of patience you're able to find it deeply buried, a single box labeled "Retired." in a sharpie marker. It was small but heavy, you carefully grab the thing and drag it to your room alongside a box cutter from the nearby tool desk.

You tore the yellowed tape open, a horde of cheap pulpy books yellowed and likely loosened by dust mites with names like "EN/TY/TY" and "Fall of the Solitaire" strangled in old cables. Video tapes and audio books, cassettes from bands you've never really heard of.. and your grail- the most haphazard radio you'd ever seen.

A couple of beakers with red and blue fluids stuck out from the top, hopefully not mercury or something like that..

There's a single sticky note slapped onto the back, "Leave it on overnight with a offering. Turn off in the morning. Please remove offering if ants.."

You guessed there were more than a few accidents....

There didn't seem to be any sort of power cable or port, a screw-on panel at the bottom. Figure it'd have to be battery powered...

You checked the dials until a sharp unnatural sound made you jump in your seat. Guess old batteries were built different. A little glow came from the otherwise analog display.

You placed it down on top of your little wooden wardrobe and pull out the little card Mr. Ono had handed you earlier.

369.66XM

You adjusted the dials, only taking a little trial and error.

Mostly white noise, a light staggering here and there.

You could see what your mom meant, nothing defined but if you really try hard enough you could maybe make out a word.

*Dog, Dog, Dog....*

It was silly, but you kinda were hoping there'd be more to it...

Still, there was mention of a offering. Something that'd summon ants regularly...

Sweets? Maybe it's one of those skeletons made of sugar tapping on the other side. One way to find out...

You quietly returned to the kitchen, grabbing a slice of pound cake from the breadbox. You could make out the television in the living room a door away, your mom watching one of those goofy late night medical dramas that used to squick you out when you were younger. In hindsight, it always looked pretty fake- but you didn't know better. God knows you'd seen worse now.

You went back to your room, placing the poundcake on a little plate next to the radio and...

It cut to complete silence, not a single hymn or crackle left.

Was it dead? The light hadn't turned off but... it was pretty old, so maybe that's just expected at this point. You gave it a few more minutes to see if anything happened and... nothing.

Guess all you could do is leave it on overnight, see if something happens later.

After you'd made sure to set up everything on a secure shelf, you were quick to make your way back to the living room.

Your mom, half asleep, had bundled up with a blanket in the middle of a commercial break.

Pato: You still watching?

Mom: For a little bit, still time if you wanna sneak in a hour. Might be kind of late though, you look pretty tired.

Pato: Not like I got homework, or classes, or anything right now.

Mom: Guess so... you miss it at all?

Pato: I mean... yeah. Don't get to talk to friends IRL much lately..

Mom: Mm, me neither.

Pato: Get scared when they stop calling or anything for weeks. Wish any of them were closer so I could heck but... they're all so far, you know? Around here everyone's too old or like five.

Your mom gave you a little quiet nod.

Mom: I was hoping we'd be out by now but that's looking a good while away... eventually.

Pato: Mmm. When you were a kid, was there anything like that? Like... scary stuff? Kind we're dealing with right now?

Mom: A lot, maybe not the way it's happening but you know.. guess the end of the world felt a little more.. I dunno. Not like this at all.

Pato: Ah... yeah.

Mom: Bad times can't last forever though, people always spring back.

Pato: I guess so..

Mom: I'll make it work.

You rested your head on her shoulder and quietly focused your attention on the television. Your eyelids became heavy.

The curfew, everything slowly shutting down, noises of unholy rattling on occasion outside the walls of this home.

Really felt hard to imagine things getting better anytime soon.

Still, if you could find little moments of respite even in times like these, maybe she was right.

You could let yourself relax for tonight, you'd done more than enough for today.. ]]> THe following thread is chunks of a upcoming Twine project, previews to give a taste for what's to come. Visual assets will be added onto and updated as time goes.

This is a story at another world's end.

You are the one who pulls the trigger.

A quick shower, a change of clothes, and today's fit stuffed into a plastic bag to avoid the dirt going everywhere. It's drenched in enough soil that it'll probably need to be washed on its own.

Be a good idea to handle it yourself to be honest...

You made your way back to the kitchen, having dressed in a plain and loose shirt and baggy pajama pants. Despite how hard it's been to get back and forth lately with limited stock and hours, there was a constant effort from your mom to keep things lively. Autumn flavored scents, warm lighting, and a hot potato dish on the table laid out for you as she washed pots and plates on the side..

Pato: Looks good...

Mom: Always is.

You didn't hesitate to dig in, the savory mix of root veggies and gravy lighting you up in a heartbeat.

Mom: Food's not gonna run away, slow down and savor it!

Pato: Mm... Sorry. Tastes amazing..

Mom: It better, just cause things are crazy out there doesn't mean things gotta be that way here.

Pato: Yeah...

Mom: So?

Pato: Hmm?

Mom: Details! If you're gonna be gone all day I wanna know who you're with.

Pato: Yeah uh.. hold up.

You shuffled around in your pockets before pulling out the business card from earlier. It was still layered with a little mud on the corner.

Your mom took it in hand and gave it a careful look, squinting just a little before a little smile cracks.

Mom: A station number? That's so corny...

Pato: Yeah, you know much about it or-

Mom: It's like... kind of a zodiac thing? Or fortune telling? Old stuff you weren't around for.

Pato: Ah..

She placed the card back down on the table, pointing out the station number.

369.66XM

Mom: People toyed around with what they used to call "Halo Stations", make custom boxes and look around for frequencies. Whole lot of static and nothing, probably was a lot of hearing things that weren't there...

Pato: I was gonna say, XM..

Mom: Probably a lot of loose noise, radiation, I dunno. Your dad had a phase back then.

Pato: Really?

Mom: Mmhmm.

Pato: How come you don't talk about that at all?

Mom: Didn't seem all that big a deal. Got kinda really into it and then dropped it, put it all in a big box in the garage. Tons of money on books and contraptions I never really could get into but... you know, made him excited at the time.

Pato: You still have all of it?

Mom: Yep, are you curious about all that?

Pato: A little.. is it okay if I-

Mom: After you're done and as long as you don't stay up too late.

Pato: Easy..

You quickly finished up what's left of dinner and pocket the card. You started toward the sink to wash your own dish when-

Mom: You don't gotta do that tonight, worked a ton today I can tell.

Pato: A little..

Mom: Yardwork?

Pato: Yeah, with uh.. Mr. Ono down the street.

Mom: I think I remember him, I'll have to thank him at some point.

Pato: Yeah..

Mom: If you get bored I'll be watching TV a bit while I fill out some papers. Maybe pop in?

Pato: Maybe. You remember which box it is?

Mom: One labeled retired. He gave that up pretty hard once he was over it.

Pato: Gotcha, thank you!

With a quick scramble, you've made your way to the garage door. You're careful to make sure both sides are unlocked when you step in, plenty of accidents with that before.

Room is cold, not a touch of insulation against the creaking wooden structure of the walls.

Piles of boxes that make up little towers and seasonal goods stacked up in the corner.

With just a bit of patience you're able to find it deeply buried, a single box labeled "Retired." in a sharpie marker. It was small but heavy, you carefully grab the thing and drag it to your room alongside a box cutter from the nearby tool desk.

You tore the yellowed tape open, a horde of cheap pulpy books yellowed and likely loosened by dust mites with names like "EN/TY/TY" and "Fall of the Solitaire" strangled in old cables. Video tapes and audio books, cassettes from bands you've never really heard of.. and your grail- the most haphazard radio you'd ever seen.

A couple of beakers with red and blue fluids stuck out from the top, hopefully not mercury or something like that..

There's a single sticky note slapped onto the back, "Leave it on overnight with a offering. Turn off in the morning. Please remove offering if ants.."

You guessed there were more than a few accidents....

There didn't seem to be any sort of power cable or port, a screw-on panel at the bottom. Figure it'd have to be battery powered...

You checked the dials until a sharp unnatural sound made you jump in your seat. Guess old batteries were built different. A little glow came from the otherwise analog display.

You placed it down on top of your little wooden wardrobe and pull out the little card Mr. Ono had handed you earlier.

369.66XM

You adjusted the dials, only taking a little trial and error.

Mostly white noise, a light staggering here and there.

You could see what your mom meant, nothing defined but if you really try hard enough you could maybe make out a word.

*Dog, Dog, Dog....*

It was silly, but you kinda were hoping there'd be more to it...

Still, there was mention of a offering. Something that'd summon ants regularly...

Sweets? Maybe it's one of those skeletons made of sugar tapping on the other side. One way to find out...

You quietly returned to the kitchen, grabbing a slice of pound cake from the breadbox. You could make out the television in the living room a door away, your mom watching one of those goofy late night medical dramas that used to squick you out when you were younger. In hindsight, it always looked pretty fake- but you didn't know better. God knows you'd seen worse now.

You went back to your room, placing the poundcake on a little plate next to the radio and...

It cut to complete silence, not a single hymn or crackle left.

Was it dead? The light hadn't turned off but... it was pretty old, so maybe that's just expected at this point. You gave it a few more minutes to see if anything happened and... nothing.

Guess all you could do is leave it on overnight, see if something happens later.

After you'd made sure to set up everything on a secure shelf, you were quick to make your way back to the living room.

Your mom, half asleep, had bundled up with a blanket in the middle of a commercial break.

Pato: You still watching?

Mom: For a little bit, still time if you wanna sneak in a hour. Might be kind of late though, you look pretty tired.

Pato: Not like I got homework, or classes, or anything right now.

Mom: Guess so... you miss it at all?

Pato: I mean... yeah. Don't get to talk to friends IRL much lately..

Mom: Mm, me neither.

Pato: Get scared when they stop calling or anything for weeks. Wish any of them were closer so I could heck but... they're all so far, you know? Around here everyone's too old or like five.

Your mom gave you a little quiet nod.

Mom: I was hoping we'd be out by now but that's looking a good while away... eventually.

Pato: Mmm. When you were a kid, was there anything like that? Like... scary stuff? Kind we're dealing with right now?

Mom: A lot, maybe not the way it's happening but you know.. guess the end of the world felt a little more.. I dunno. Not like this at all.

Pato: Ah... yeah.

Mom: Bad times can't last forever though, people always spring back.

Pato: I guess so..

Mom: I'll make it work.

You rested your head on her shoulder and quietly focused your attention on the television. Your eyelids became heavy.

The curfew, everything slowly shutting down, noises of unholy rattling on occasion outside the walls of this home.

Really felt hard to imagine things getting better anytime soon.

Still, if you could find little moments of respite even in times like these, maybe she was right.

You could let yourself relax for tonight, you'd done more than enough for today.. ]]> <![CDATA[Conflicting Narrations: Crownkiller's Mulligan]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-948.html Mon, 24 Feb 2025 21:44:30 +0000 ThreadLurkingComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-948.html Conflicting Narrations: Crownkiller's Mulligan

This is a Interactive Narrative with ARG Elements

The Audience is encouraged to suggest actions.

Tutor, The Last of Tiles.

You wear the name of your fallen comrades' guild as your own.

Your classification is: The Executioner, a master of arms, poise, and intimidation.

This is a meta narrative of war, romance, and the bonds between revolutionists

Content Warnings will be listed as needed but allow the above to set the tone.

Thank you.

[image description: A anthropomorphic dog woman is digging through the drawers of the perspective character.]

You feel the rumblings of a Stranger beside your bed.

"Must be around here somewhere.."

"That tome doesn't seem to be the correct one.. you've added quite a few nice trinkets since then though.."

Your eyes go open, a woman is fiddling through your personal belongings.

Your body cannot move, your allies are seemingly out of sight.

Your comrade is next to you, sleeping behind where you are facing.

You try to stir as much as you can to wake them up, alert them.

They seem to not respond.

You can feel their breathing calm..

You really want to strike.. but your lance is across the room.

You made a pact, in a crisis like these you can summon a secondary arm, a weapon to complement your talents. to protect yourself and others..

Picture something, anything that could scare off the intruder.

]]> Conflicting Narrations: Crownkiller's Mulligan

This is a Interactive Narrative with ARG Elements

The Audience is encouraged to suggest actions.

Tutor, The Last of Tiles.

You wear the name of your fallen comrades' guild as your own.

Your classification is: The Executioner, a master of arms, poise, and intimidation.

This is a meta narrative of war, romance, and the bonds between revolutionists

Content Warnings will be listed as needed but allow the above to set the tone.

Thank you.

[image description: A anthropomorphic dog woman is digging through the drawers of the perspective character.]

]]> <![CDATA[The Reconstruction of Plaza [Crankshaft Rafflesian]]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-947.html Sat, 22 Feb 2025 00:08:32 +0000 ThreadLurkingComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-947.html CW: Explorations of grief, Nostalgic Depression, Gentrification, and Supernatural concepts that involve memory dissonance.

Perspective: Dorothy "Dotty" Coil

[image description: First Person Perspective shot of Dotty pointing at a odd tower rising out of the ocean. A anthropomorphic rabbit woman, Lex, is on the side with her head tilting toward the viewer ]

You're just a touch late for your date.

Nothing too serious, she texted you where she'd be around and..

At this point 30 minutes of leeway is kind of expected. It's not too bad though, the nighttime air has always been a bit of piece for the two of you...

Though you're about a hour past this time, bleh...

You spot her leaning over the rail, maybe a little too close to the ledge for your own comfort.

The rabbit's always been just a touch devil-may-care, it's kind of her charm but...

You don't feel like taking a chance, it's not her first time beefing this.

You dive in, hugging her to discreetly secure her from taking a dunk into the ocean water.

Her ears perk up immediately.

Lex: Hey!

Dotty: Hey.

Lex: Was worried they were gonna keep you overtime with well..

Dotty: Same. Work has me a bit busy, Darkest Night's a whole thing and being a Match Monitor well..

Lex: Safety inspection stuff..

Dotty: Safety checks on the two weeks of the year where we got a uptick of prank related injuries. Know how it is. Bright side is things've gone pretty smooth so far? Policy changes done us wonders lately.. but yeah.

Lex: Happens right?

Dotty: Still..

Lex: If you feel so bad we can just stay out a little extra late, like old times?

Dotty: Hmm...

Lex: You're gonna just give me the hmm?

Dotty: I might need a little more fuel, thinking we gotta find a nice diner for a break.

Lex: I mean yeah... I could do with that..

Dotty: So whatcha been up to yourself today?

Lex: We spent the day helping Spice and Targe, they got a booth to set up every evening. Gonna have to work some night shifts this weekend but next week I'm free.

Dotty: Witchiest time of the season.

Lex: Yep. Proud of them for going this far though with like.. everything really.

Dotty: Yeah... those two married yet?

Lex: Sorta? Like not officially and they don't really use the word but..

Dotty: But they're pretty much settled.

Lex: Yeah. Not their vibe to do it on paper like that, more old school. Pact maybe.

Dotty: That's cute..

Lex: It's a whole way of life, committed to that.

She places her hand on yours.

Lex: Think in the end they're practically as locked in as we are, just a different way to word it.

Dotty: Don't know if you really can...

Lex: Hehe, feel it.

You give her a little look over.

Dotty: Surprised you're not dressed up, don't you usually get in on all that?

Lex: Usually? But like... bushed today. I'll get more into it after the half point. You wanna maybe get in on it too?

Dotty: Please! I've been working on a couple of things in secret so-

Lex: How secret?

Dotty: You'll have to wait and see.

Lex: A hint?

Dotty: Nope! Not yet..

Her eyes seem pretty fixated toward the horizon, you try to hone in.

Dotty: Whatcha looking at? Seem pretty intense...

Lex: Yeah? well uhhhh. I dunno, see some funny light going on. New tower maybe? Sometimes they pop up in the ocean. If you look carefully...

You zoom in just a bit.

She's right.

You point toward it.

Dotty: That?

Lex: Yeah. Always got a bit of a dreamy vibe. Have a soft spot for them..

You shake your head.

Dotty: Thing feels kinda scary honestly..

Lex: Really? Always seemed so magical...

Dotty: And that's why!

Lex: I just think it's pretty too, fan of that sort I think.

She grabs onto your shoulder.

Lex: You know?

Dotty: You're silly..

Lex: Okay but I mean it-

Dotty: Yeah.

Lex: And at this point you gotta accept it a little.

Dotty: Yeeeeah...

Lex: I wanna hear it, say you're cute.

Dotty: You say it!

Lex: No, compliment yourself.

Dotty: It's so corny though... can I put a pin in that?

Lex: Hmm... as long as it happens tonight?

Dotty: I'll take those terms.

Lex: Holding you to it-

There's a flicker at a distance, like lightning crackling.

Lex: Oh wow...

Dotty: Those are uh... origin flashes, yeah?

Lex: Mm! Must mean the tower is new-new. Wonder where it all goes honestly..

Another flash, brighter..

Dotty: I think I wanna go somewhere else for a bit...

Lex: Right now? Like...

Dotty: Please?

Another flash, one that has people around startled.

Lex: Yeah, okay. Why don't we just-

[image description: The tower flickers with lightning, a flash of still images from past interactions with people close to Dotty speeding by in a abstracted way]

There's very little time to make of what happens next. The worst crackling of your life, taking you back to the worst of days your memories can process...

And then suddenly your best..

And your best is now and forever ago..

And still to come..

The Reconstruction of Plaza: Crankshaft Rafflesian
Act 1, Rancher's Memory

Your name is Dorothy, Dotty for short.

You wake up in your practically empty apartment.

You were refurbished, a old model construct gone dormant in the aftermath of a old disaster.

Your vintage frame feels heavy.

Your empty room welcomes you with a sterile glow, only broken by the little relief of the world outside your window.

You need to get some rest for work tomorrow, but sleep refuses to come no matter how hard you try.

You wonder if you're really as functional as they swear, your body and mind never feel entirely there.

Broken even...

A walk, some air, a little time around the people.

Maybe a bite at a burger joint, food's been a reliable comfort in your few years being conscious again.

Just a quick, easy, unremarkable run grab something is all you need to ease your mind right now..

Get up.

[image description: A monochrome room with a view of a odd looking refurbished home outside. It's evening.]]]> CW: Explorations of grief, Nostalgic Depression, Gentrification, and Supernatural concepts that involve memory dissonance.

Perspective: Dorothy "Dotty" Coil

[image description: The tower flickers with lightning, a flash of still images from past interactions with people close to Dotty speeding by in a abstracted way]

The Reconstruction of Plaza: Crankshaft Rafflesian
Act 1, Rancher's Memory

[image description: A monochrome room with a view of a odd looking refurbished home outside. It's evening.]]]> <![CDATA[Cracked Shipping [Non-Canon Date Scenario]]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-946.html Fri, 14 Feb 2025 22:10:12 +0000 ThreadLurkingComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-946.html Disclaimer: Anything can be canon if I like it enough.

The Suite
CW: None
Characters: Tutor Tiles, Mar C. Judgment
Perspective: Tiles
A fated meeting in Castle Styx between a Diamond and a Heart.

Your clothes charred on the edges, scales of your armor compromised with dents and cracks.

It was a delivery job, one that now has you defending a safehouse from a siege.

You needed to hold the fort, tank it out until Starman's cavalry could arrive safely.

It's very quickly became clear this was a losing battle, you needed a fresh hand.

You make it through the portal with a less than graceful landing.

Your brain becomes lucid from the haze of combat, you call out for help.

You are on the verge of collapsing on your knees.

Tiles: Lash!? Styx!?

There's a rattling noise and a little pitched squeak, must be the former roaming around these parts.

Tiles: Lashy!

You spot someone turning the corner from behind a bookshelf.

You pause.

Though the presence in front of you feels reminiscent, this is definitely not her. She fully comes out.

Tall, like Steel on Porcelain. A armored mesh of a proxy poised as a timid bird.

Tiles: Sorry to bother you...

She shakes her head at you.

???: You've done me no wrong.. are you another client?

There was a little tilt of the head. Faceless and yet the cadence of her voice makes the gesture feel warm.

Tiles: Not in the usual sense, we have a small contract but nothing too binding-

???: Ah, a part-timer?

Tiles: A way to put it.

She offers a hand out to you, metal and segmented at the joints.

You take it without reluctance. With a good tug she helps you to your feet.

???: You seem quite weary..

Tiles: In the middle of a rough one...

???: Your plating is damaged..

Tiles: It's nothing much to worry about, I have a friend who'll take care of it later. Right now I've got to gather my bearings so... may I?

???: Only if you allow me to repair your gear.

TIles:.. You, know how to do that?

Suppose it's a bit of a silly question, her appearance reminds you of some of the armor work you've worn yourself but.. the particular threading style seemed too close. Was she one of your own?

Tiles: Do you have a guild you work under?

???: Judgment... the name is Mar Judgment.

Her stature, her tone.. was this someone from a distant time? A land opposite to yours? It didn't really feel like it made much sense..

Her aura reminds you of Styx, she must be a proxy made under his pact.. but why?

Mar: I can handle it quick, get you warmed up and ready to go back as good as new.

Tiles: You are a smith in truth then? I would love that much right now..

Mar: My operator's a bit of a tinker, one who's more than familiar with your era of armor. Bit of a fan of the classics.. think I am too.

From the future...

Was that really..? She didn't just hit on you in a time like-

No you've done plenty of this yourself. It's a classic trick, a little well placed levity helps push people through dire times and..

No time to get scatterbrained. If she can get you back in the game, you're set.

Tiles: Do so, then perhaps a hot drink to help gather ourselves?

Mar: I can have that done..

A little diamond shaped rift slowly guided out a table, tools, and materials to get the job done.

Mar: Could you...

You give her a nod and let her take a closer look at the dress.

Mar: I can buffer out a lot of it, replace some of the plates that are a hazard to you.. what guild are you from?

Tiles: I'm the Last of Tiles..

She makes a sudden noise.

Does she know more than you..?

Mar: I'm sorry to hear that.. was it recent or-

Tiles: It'll never stop feeling fresh but... I've spend the past year in good company...

Mar: Mm.. friends?

Tiles: Friends, comrades, incredible ones of all sorts.. You have that sort?

Mar: Mmhmm, thank god really..

Tiles: As much as I can..

She gets to work quite quickly with the pace of a field medic under fire.

Tiles: You don't have to go all out like that-

Mar: You have people waiting for you. Even if time works differently in here, I don't want you to be unprepared if you have less room to rest than you expect.

Tiles: Wise words, you really are the real deal..

The proxy's face cracks open to make a small, silly smile.

Mar: From someone like yourself, I think that's high praise..

Tiles: Completely earned... is your operator here right now?

Mar: Mm? No, giving me a rest for today. He's been working himself to the bone I think, really doing his best to find a long term place to work.

Tiles: A time of peace then..

Mar: In the loosest sense, there's never such a thing.

TIles: Aye..

You lean in a little to get a better look at her.

Mar: Hold it, you're going to make my hand slip.

Tiles: You remind me of someone..

Mar: Yourself?

Tiles: Well.. more than that-

Mar: I'm aware that Styx had a knight he was friends with, I figured that's you.. I think he misses you often..

Tiles: And you-

Mar: I have a lot to think of seeing you in person, it's clear my form is product of that but.. admittedly it's nice to know what he pictured as the perfect guildsman.

Tiles: Does-

You stop yourself.

As much as you want to pry it's for the best you don't ask too much. It's a rule you've been kept to, don't get too direct about future events.

Tiles: This is the first time we've met?

Mar: Mmhmm!

Tiles: That's... quite nice. Then we're on consistent terms.

Mar: Mm.. I see plenty of past allies and clients of his show here briefly and.. admittedly it makes me nervous.

Tiles: And why's that?

Mar: Because eventually, they will never be seen again. All that has happened will not change, and all that will come knows when my clock runs out. Suppose that's natural..

Tiles: Death type..

Mar: Mm? I suppose. You can see that much?

Tiles: The snake's playbook gives me his eye. I can look at you and get more than most.

Mar: Mm, such as?

Tiles: Well.. I can see that you're a oddity.

Mar: Obviously but that's vague..

Tiles: You exist as many....

Mar: Mmhmm!

Tiles: Became strong through great hardship..

Mar: That's to be expected..

Tiles: A Category World, you're complete in a way few can..

Mar: It came out of necessity, what more can I say?

Tiles: And...

You pause.

You can look at anyone and find out details they've never known, will never find out about themselves.

The closer you gaze, the more things become clear to you..

Tiles: Gallows?

There's a spike of pain to her on hearing that.

Tiles:.. Is he-

Mar: No, not in form you'd recognize....

Tiles: I see.. then you are-

Mar: I can't give specifics but... the life he lives now I hope is kinder.

Another life then.. that confirms your hunch but..

Does it happen sooner or later?

After the war? Do you get that far or-

Mar: Things are okay...

Tiles: Mm..

She pulls her hands away, starting to pack up shop.

Tiles: Done already?

Mar: Should be! Tell me how it feels.

You twirl around, it's more comfortable and tuned proper than it has been in a good while.

Tiles: You're a pro, just as good as the one back home..

Mar: Think so?

Tiles: Mmhmm. Think she'd be impressed if I'm honest. Have to introduce you two at some point.

You reach out a hand to her.

She lets you have her own, a confused look to her blank face.

Tiles: You dance, yes?

Mar: Well yes but-

Tiles: I want to know you a little more if that's alright..

Mar: If you do.. I need the mood just right.

She pulls away and starts toward a table on the side.

A radio setup unlike any you've seen is tuned with until some slow piece comes on.

Tiles: They still listen to this sort of thing in your time?

She returns to position.

Mar: Why not? It's not as if it ever truly left..

Tiles: But do they perform or-

Mar: Some do, if people truly love something they will never let it die.

Tiles: A nice way to look at that..

You let a little cackle slip.

Mar: Funny thought?

Tiles: Absolutely. Checking you.

Mar: Wha-

You dip her dramatically, a little squeak coming out of her.

There's a pause, a smug smile against the nervous bird..

And then you lift her back upright.

Mar: N-never been on the receiving end of one of those...

Tiles: Handle with your size often, what can I really say?

Mar: Someone special?

Tiles: More than one.

Mar: Waow..

You start breaking out laughing.

Tiles: You're silly, pleasant way.

Mar: Think you have to be, big metal bird and all that.

Tiles: A very fashionable one.

Mar: I am but a canvas to be painted on.

Tiles: Will I meet the artist?

Mar: Not today I think.. but...

The song ends, a cut to a radio station bumper. The proxy pulls away from you for a moment, giving you a sweet little grin.

Mar: I promised you a hot drink, no?

Tiles: Right.. don't feel like you've got to rush.

Mar: I'll do my best..

As she scurries off, you feel a tap on the shoulder. You turn to see Lash, Styx's proxy.

Tiles: There you are, tad late.

Lash: Things are hectic right now, high traffic..

Tiles: I understand.. you see her before?

Lash: You know the rules..

Tiles:... Mm. How am I doing on time?

Lash: You have enough to wrap up nicely..

Tiles: But not long.

Lash: Or enough, I can tell you're having a nice time.

Tiles: Wonderful honestly. I almost don't want to leave, it's all so fast and so soon..

Lash: I know.

Tiles: You deal with this all the time, must drive you mad. Being in the center of all timeframes at once, bumping into folks from across eras, never seeing them again..

Tiles: I wish I could take her back with me, she'd fit so well with everyone else.

Tiles: Is there no way to do so?

Lash: She has a reason to be in the time she's in, as much as the uncertainty hurts.

Tiles: It really does..

Lash puts a hand of comfort on your shoulder.

Tiles: I get attached to people too quick, bad for my mental health..

Lash: Life's too short to not care of others I think. And for now you should focus!

A nudge toward Mar, now holding a tray of hot chocolate and sweets.

Tiles: You're just quick on all fronts, aren't you?

Mar: Mmhmm,, See lash is here. Think she'd-

Lash: I'm quite busy at the moment but later? Broth and I are watching a movie!

Mar: I'll hold you to that.. Tiles? You still have time?

Lash gives you a little nod.

Tiles: Of course..

Mar: Settle down with me then just a little longer...

Tiles: My pleasure.]]> Disclaimer: Anything can be canon if I like it enough.

The Suite
CW: None
Characters: Tutor Tiles, Mar C. Judgment
Perspective: Tiles
A fated meeting in Castle Styx between a Diamond and a Heart.

Your clothes charred on the edges, scales of your armor compromised with dents and cracks.

It was a delivery job, one that now has you defending a safehouse from a siege.

You needed to hold the fort, tank it out until Starman's cavalry could arrive safely.

It's very quickly became clear this was a losing battle, you needed a fresh hand.

You make it through the portal with a less than graceful landing.

Your brain becomes lucid from the haze of combat, you call out for help.

You are on the verge of collapsing on your knees.

Tiles: Lash!? Styx!?

There's a rattling noise and a little pitched squeak, must be the former roaming around these parts.

Tiles: Lashy!

You spot someone turning the corner from behind a bookshelf.

You pause.

Though the presence in front of you feels reminiscent, this is definitely not her. She fully comes out.

Tall, like Steel on Porcelain. A armored mesh of a proxy poised as a timid bird.

Tiles: Sorry to bother you...

She shakes her head at you.

???: You've done me no wrong.. are you another client?

There was a little tilt of the head. Faceless and yet the cadence of her voice makes the gesture feel warm.

Tiles: Not in the usual sense, we have a small contract but nothing too binding-

???: Ah, a part-timer?

Tiles: A way to put it.

She offers a hand out to you, metal and segmented at the joints.

You take it without reluctance. With a good tug she helps you to your feet.

???: You seem quite weary..

Tiles: In the middle of a rough one...

???: Your plating is damaged..

Tiles: It's nothing much to worry about, I have a friend who'll take care of it later. Right now I've got to gather my bearings so... may I?

???: Only if you allow me to repair your gear.

TIles:.. You, know how to do that?

Suppose it's a bit of a silly question, her appearance reminds you of some of the armor work you've worn yourself but.. the particular threading style seemed too close. Was she one of your own?

Tiles: Do you have a guild you work under?

???: Judgment... the name is Mar Judgment.

Her stature, her tone.. was this someone from a distant time? A land opposite to yours? It didn't really feel like it made much sense..

Her aura reminds you of Styx, she must be a proxy made under his pact.. but why?

Mar: I can handle it quick, get you warmed up and ready to go back as good as new.

Tiles: You are a smith in truth then? I would love that much right now..

Mar: My operator's a bit of a tinker, one who's more than familiar with your era of armor. Bit of a fan of the classics.. think I am too.

From the future...

Was that really..? She didn't just hit on you in a time like-

No you've done plenty of this yourself. It's a classic trick, a little well placed levity helps push people through dire times and..

No time to get scatterbrained. If she can get you back in the game, you're set.

Tiles: Do so, then perhaps a hot drink to help gather ourselves?

Mar: I can have that done..

A little diamond shaped rift slowly guided out a table, tools, and materials to get the job done.

Mar: Could you...

You give her a nod and let her take a closer look at the dress.

Mar: I can buffer out a lot of it, replace some of the plates that are a hazard to you.. what guild are you from?

Tiles: I'm the Last of Tiles..

She makes a sudden noise.

Does she know more than you..?

Mar: I'm sorry to hear that.. was it recent or-

Tiles: It'll never stop feeling fresh but... I've spend the past year in good company...

Mar: Mm.. friends?

Tiles: Friends, comrades, incredible ones of all sorts.. You have that sort?

Mar: Mmhmm, thank god really..

Tiles: As much as I can..

She gets to work quite quickly with the pace of a field medic under fire.

Tiles: You don't have to go all out like that-

Mar: You have people waiting for you. Even if time works differently in here, I don't want you to be unprepared if you have less room to rest than you expect.

Tiles: Wise words, you really are the real deal..

The proxy's face cracks open to make a small, silly smile.

Mar: From someone like yourself, I think that's high praise..

Tiles: Completely earned... is your operator here right now?

Mar: Mm? No, giving me a rest for today. He's been working himself to the bone I think, really doing his best to find a long term place to work.

Tiles: A time of peace then..

Mar: In the loosest sense, there's never such a thing.

TIles: Aye..

You lean in a little to get a better look at her.

Mar: Hold it, you're going to make my hand slip.

Tiles: You remind me of someone..

Mar: Yourself?

Tiles: Well.. more than that-

Mar: I'm aware that Styx had a knight he was friends with, I figured that's you.. I think he misses you often..

Tiles: And you-

Mar: I have a lot to think of seeing you in person, it's clear my form is product of that but.. admittedly it's nice to know what he pictured as the perfect guildsman.

Tiles: Does-

You stop yourself.

As much as you want to pry it's for the best you don't ask too much. It's a rule you've been kept to, don't get too direct about future events.

Tiles: This is the first time we've met?

Mar: Mmhmm!

Tiles: That's... quite nice. Then we're on consistent terms.

Mar: Mm.. I see plenty of past allies and clients of his show here briefly and.. admittedly it makes me nervous.

Tiles: And why's that?

Mar: Because eventually, they will never be seen again. All that has happened will not change, and all that will come knows when my clock runs out. Suppose that's natural..

Tiles: Death type..

Mar: Mm? I suppose. You can see that much?

Tiles: The snake's playbook gives me his eye. I can look at you and get more than most.

Mar: Mm, such as?

Tiles: Well.. I can see that you're a oddity.

Mar: Obviously but that's vague..

Tiles: You exist as many....

Mar: Mmhmm!

Tiles: Became strong through great hardship..

Mar: That's to be expected..

Tiles: A Category World, you're complete in a way few can..

Mar: It came out of necessity, what more can I say?

Tiles: And...

You pause.

You can look at anyone and find out details they've never known, will never find out about themselves.

The closer you gaze, the more things become clear to you..

Tiles: Gallows?

There's a spike of pain to her on hearing that.

Tiles:.. Is he-

Mar: No, not in form you'd recognize....

Tiles: I see.. then you are-

Mar: I can't give specifics but... the life he lives now I hope is kinder.

Another life then.. that confirms your hunch but..

Does it happen sooner or later?

After the war? Do you get that far or-

Mar: Things are okay...

Tiles: Mm..

She pulls her hands away, starting to pack up shop.

Tiles: Done already?

Mar: Should be! Tell me how it feels.

You twirl around, it's more comfortable and tuned proper than it has been in a good while.

Tiles: You're a pro, just as good as the one back home..

Mar: Think so?

Tiles: Mmhmm. Think she'd be impressed if I'm honest. Have to introduce you two at some point.

You reach out a hand to her.

She lets you have her own, a confused look to her blank face.

Tiles: You dance, yes?

Mar: Well yes but-

Tiles: I want to know you a little more if that's alright..

Mar: If you do.. I need the mood just right.

She pulls away and starts toward a table on the side.

A radio setup unlike any you've seen is tuned with until some slow piece comes on.

Tiles: They still listen to this sort of thing in your time?

She returns to position.

Mar: Why not? It's not as if it ever truly left..

Tiles: But do they perform or-

Mar: Some do, if people truly love something they will never let it die.

Tiles: A nice way to look at that..

You let a little cackle slip.

Mar: Funny thought?

Tiles: Absolutely. Checking you.

Mar: Wha-

You dip her dramatically, a little squeak coming out of her.

There's a pause, a smug smile against the nervous bird..

And then you lift her back upright.

Mar: N-never been on the receiving end of one of those...

Tiles: Handle with your size often, what can I really say?

Mar: Someone special?

Tiles: More than one.

Mar: Waow..

You start breaking out laughing.

Tiles: You're silly, pleasant way.

Mar: Think you have to be, big metal bird and all that.

Tiles: A very fashionable one.

Mar: I am but a canvas to be painted on.

Tiles: Will I meet the artist?

Mar: Not today I think.. but...

The song ends, a cut to a radio station bumper. The proxy pulls away from you for a moment, giving you a sweet little grin.

Mar: I promised you a hot drink, no?

Tiles: Right.. don't feel like you've got to rush.

Mar: I'll do my best..

As she scurries off, you feel a tap on the shoulder. You turn to see Lash, Styx's proxy.

Tiles: There you are, tad late.

Lash: Things are hectic right now, high traffic..

Tiles: I understand.. you see her before?

Lash: You know the rules..

Tiles:... Mm. How am I doing on time?

Lash: You have enough to wrap up nicely..

Tiles: But not long.

Lash: Or enough, I can tell you're having a nice time.

Tiles: Wonderful honestly. I almost don't want to leave, it's all so fast and so soon..

Lash: I know.

Tiles: You deal with this all the time, must drive you mad. Being in the center of all timeframes at once, bumping into folks from across eras, never seeing them again..

Tiles: I wish I could take her back with me, she'd fit so well with everyone else.

Tiles: Is there no way to do so?

Lash: She has a reason to be in the time she's in, as much as the uncertainty hurts.

Tiles: It really does..

Lash puts a hand of comfort on your shoulder.

Tiles: I get attached to people too quick, bad for my mental health..

Lash: Life's too short to not care of others I think. And for now you should focus!

A nudge toward Mar, now holding a tray of hot chocolate and sweets.

Tiles: You're just quick on all fronts, aren't you?

Mar: Mmhmm,, See lash is here. Think she'd-

Lash: I'm quite busy at the moment but later? Broth and I are watching a movie!

Mar: I'll hold you to that.. Tiles? You still have time?

Lash gives you a little nod.

Tiles: Of course..

Mar: Settle down with me then just a little longer...

Tiles: My pleasure.]]> <![CDATA[Vino Tinto/Blanco: Project Previews]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-938.html Sun, 17 Nov 2024 20:08:51 +0000 ThreadLurkingComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-938.html Previews for a upcoming twine project, Vino (Working Title)

PREVIEW RELEASE 1

The Vineyard Weed
[Chapter Preview 1, CH-02]
CW: Mentions of Blood
Characters: Bucket, Francesca
Perspective: Bucket Judgment

[Image: re2ddd.png]

[Image Description: Two Anthropomorphic dogs standing back to back from a side profile. The left one is smiling and wearing a sleeved dress with her ears pulled back. The one on the right is much larger, hair poofier and wearing a sweater with a large belted pair of baggy pants. They are cradling a sword. Both dogs have their eyes obscured by their long hair.]

You wake up frantically in a stranger's bed. You immediately pat around for your weapon.

???: Awake?

A voice you've never heard before, a dog with long messy hair and white fur slowly making her way to your bedside.

Bucket: Where are my belongings? Why am I here?

???: You can relax, your sword is by the door. Took the time to wipe off the blood before it left any rust. As for the rest? Left it on the side table for you. Figure its the least anyone can do for you, takes a lot of guts to pick a fight with a sentryman.

You give the room a good look around, confirming what she said. It was a small little cabin, but one that was well loved.

Bucket: You carried me inside?

???: Mmhmm! Better me than most of the townfolks, they're not exactly the most trusting when someone like you shows up.

Bucket: Like me?

???: Nobody here's convinced you're just a cute dog after the show you put on. Punching far above your weightclass, good show really. Have to wonder what you're deal is...

Bucket: So in other words I've gone and frightened them. Would figure as much.

???: Maybe, but people tend to forgive a pretty face.

Bucket: I'm already quite accounted for.

She pokes her tongue at you.

???: You're assuming a lot there, its the truth of things. Give your hair a good brush and smile just right and they'll be quick to drop their suspicions. People are simple like that.

She slides you a drink, seemingly hot chocolate.

???: A good knight like yourself shouldn't have to walk out of town with nothing to show for your work anyway

Bucket: Knight? You're assuming a lot there.

???: I think I'm on the mark actually. The stature, the way you carry yourself your weapon of choice, the hardened pads..

Bucket: The pads-

???: Knights are couriers, no? The pads show how much you've traveled.

Bucket: That still doesn't mean anything-

She shuffles through her pockets and pulls out a letter.

???: There's also this. It's addressed to a Vergil Judgment. Sounds like you're one of the old couriers. Was looking to see if I could contact a relative but... the question now becomes which one. That's a pretty old school guild from what I looked up.

You make a face.

She's caught you and she knows it.

???: Right on the mark?

Bucket: I'm a descendant, yes.

???: I mean obviously, must be pretty new though aye? Got quite the young face.. but then again those teeth say you've been at this for awhile.

You couldn't help but laugh with a bitter undertone.

???: What's so funny then?

Bucket: You're very so observant, have to know what this means all to you.

???: What do you mean?

Bucket: People tend to sleuth most when there is aspect of personal interest and value. You may contest me on this but-

???: What's your favorite stageplay?

Bucket: Pardon?

???: Pin me as the observer, nosey to the last shed and yet it's clearly projection. Nothing more than the natural magnetism of theatrics.

Alright, you want to play this game.

Bucket: Give me verse.

???: Thy have plenty already.

Bucket: And I choose to pass initiate.

???: Under roof of another you play by the host's rules... but if a sweetener be needed then you are granted that and nothing more.

A little courtesy under messy hair.

???: Francesca Ottos, the Outskirt Witch.

Wing it.

Bucket: Vergil Judgment, the Wandering Knight.

A bow in return.

Francesca: Et si tu devais mourir?

Bucket: C'est la vie. Terrible.

Her tail swished around.

Francesca:: So cultured... where are you from?

Bucket: Overseas, grew up in town not far unlike this one.

Francesca: Then you understand how boring a place like this is. Nothing changes.

Bucket: Mm, for better and for worse.

Francesca: Mostly for worse. Since you made today a little more exciting though you're welcome to stay while you get back on your feet. Nice to have someone who gets it.

Bucket: And what is it that you want in return?

Francesca: Officially you don't owe me anything, but I can't deny I want to know more. What are you exactly? Strong, soft spoken, prosed as a poet... and yet there's something in your eye. Makes me wonder if we have something else in common...

She reaches for your covered up arm.

You pull it away.

Bucket: You will get sick.

Francesca: I'm already sick.

Bucket: Consider this a mercy then, keep a certain distance.

Francesca: Suppose that's fair.. what do you want for now then?

Bucket: Access to a phone, my sword-

Francesca: You are not bringing that hell slab into town right after a fight like that, people can feel the pulse.

Bucket: And what do you mean by that?

Francesca: You can't play dumb, it's alive. Something living and organic is rooted inside, people here got a good eye for that and whatever's in there isn't happy.

You raise a brow at her.

Bucket: And these people can gauge it how?

Francesca: Bit of a local craft, plenty of people who work wood and metal tend to be specialists on this sort of thing. Common to find parasites having made home of them and a lot of the older crowd considers them a bit culturally important.

Bucket: Sounds dangerous.

She grabs your palm.

Francesca: For many but not for you. You're not to different yourself, stronger even. That's how you keep its voice at bay.

Bucket: And what makes you so confident in that?

Francesca: I'm in the same boat! If you're going to be here for a bit, I've got a blade that's needed a hand like yours for a long time. Interested?

Bucket: Sounds dreadful but.. if you insist this much I should at least take a look for myself.

]]> Previews for a upcoming twine project, Vino (Working Title)

PREVIEW RELEASE 1

The Vineyard Weed
[Chapter Preview 1, CH-02]
CW: Mentions of Blood
Characters: Bucket, Francesca
Perspective: Bucket Judgment

[Image: re2ddd.png]

]]> <![CDATA[[TOY] Dr. Mixup's Laboratory]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-935.html Thu, 31 Oct 2024 10:47:44 +0000 skinstealer]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-935.html they say that in the depths of a gay toy apartment, there exists a small dragon, made of socks and full of...something....or other. his name is Dr. Mixup, and legend has it he and his twisted assistants are capable of bestowing incredible changes upon those who truly need them...

.... as long as they're okay with going under the knife.

A HOMEBREW DEVIANTS HOLIDAY SPECIAL

DR. MIXUP'S LABORATORY

BY MORTIS VELASQUEZ
ft. COMORANT and KNUX400

CONTENT WARNINGS
while mixup's laboratory is meant to be a fairly lighthearted affair, it delves hard into toy destruction (and somewhat slapstick descriptions of toy gore/surgery to match), discussion of toy origins and extrapolating that into character studies, and existentialism. also, knux's plush is based on a beastieball design (radillo) so if you do not want to be spoiled via a plush that does not hit the actual design of the beastie enough to be a true spoiler, keep that in mind. there may also be eyestrain-heavy images, and image descriptions will come later on, when i am less exhausted. enjoy!

[Image: A1.png]

ohhhh hello. it's halloween, isn't it? yes, i think so- i would know, because it's my special discount week, and the patients are lining up.

what's my business? i grant wishes. toys of all kinds come to me to have their dreams made true...even if they don't fully know what they want. i'm good at figuring that out. haha.

yes, my methods of achieving this are often called extreme. those with faint hearts should look away from my dark machinations- but for those interested in a truly transformative experience, one where toys become their true selves...and get a history lesson in the process- you may want to take a seat and get comfortable. you're on my wild ride now.

[Image: A2.png]

my first patients of the week? why, Wally the Walrus and Carl Ripken Jr., of course. They came to me as a pair, having only been friends for a short while...but knowing that the two of them may be able to work together to fulfill their dream- with my help, of course.

you know i cant release all of the patients' information...but i like to do a little interviewing here and there. you'd be surprised at how much people are willing to share in the name of furthering SCIENCE. let me take you on a little journey.

[Image: A3.png]

carl ripken jr... well, i suppose that's a name familiar to some out there, maybe. he's a baseball player, a human one too. non-toy! what's this beanie baby doing walking around with a human name? well, you see, my fair reader, this man is not a beanie baby. he is a Salvino's Bamm Beano's plush, specifically the Carl Ripken Jr. plush from 1998.

from what i can tell, these are a MLB-related knockoff brand from the peak of beanie baby hype- and boy, did they sell, if the tripod site i found is to be believed. supposedly, this plush retailed for a whopping 25 dollars back then, and sold out near-instantly. that's almost 50 USD in today's economy! don't you love inflation?!

[Image: A4.png]

he looks near-identical to a beanie baby aside from his face, and a feature i'll note later. honestly, the longer snout makes him quite distinct! his tag doesn't feature a poem, instead featuring a fact about the real-world player. such a thing really has to give a guy a complex...and well, as you'll see, it did.

when he came to me, his tag was still encased in its plastic collector's protector, and utterly immaculate, not a scratch or stain to him. oh yes, dear reader, he was a shelf bear. no doubt about it. many of the toys that come to me truly cannot remember their lives before arriving at the gay toy apartment, but the two of us can only assume he belonged to a baseball superfan in the 90's, and arrived at the thrift store he was shipped out from due to either being a hand-me-down or possession found and donated. sad, but very likely.

[Image: A5.png]

as for wally the walrus- wow, it gave me some trouble to look this guy up. his tag says that he is a "charter club" plush, along with his name- and charter club wasn't turning up anything on wikipedia. with a little bit of sleuthing, i was able to find out that Charter Club is a brand associated with the Macy's department store- so once again, we find ourselves with a (shockingly authentic looking and feeling) beanie baby knockoff, likely from the height of the craze. don't believe me? look up the Paul the Walrus beanie baby. it's incredibly close, enough that i'm startled macy's didn't get sued. perhaps they were a bigger behemoth than TY, back in the day...

either way, i wasn't able to find an original price- and the singular one on ebay was listed for a whopping 25 USD at some point. granted, i don't think it ever actually sold...perhaps we will never truly know the fate of all of the Wally the Walruses out there. either way, old, the 90's likely for a production year, and similar to ripken- pretty dang good condition. no hang tag, but a collector is equally likely, if not someone who just took damn good care of their stuff.

[Image: A6.png]

now we get to their requests. our meeting was brief, but we talked shop about their truest desires...and if you couldn't guess, both of them had some capital-F Feelings about being knockoffs meant to cash in on the biggest toy craze of the decade. we get a lot of people in the same boat in my business, though these two had much more specific issues than you'd expect.

wally here was made to be a fascimile of a mainline brand, produced by a juggernaut of a department store and nearly exactly-replicating an existing pattern. while knock-offs are a storied tradition i still need to look more into to fully, entirely grasp the depth of...there's a sense of "i can do whatever i want with this, because i'm Macy's, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." for fuck's sake, these people run the stupid thanksgiving parade no one shuts up about. they've got their fingers in a lot of pies. while i'm pretty sure they've gone downhill in a lot of peoples' eyes...from a cursory glance, in the 90's? oh, yeah, no, i don't even know if TY, with all their punching weight, could have done anything. which...with our dear patient here today...leads him to wonder what more he truly could be than a power stance, a threat display to the fad to end all fads- that didn't even work in the end.

ripken was also equally a cash-in design, but in a whole other twisted way. celebrity and entertainment tie-in toys are nothing new- and boy, what a way to get an identity complex- but they're especially painful when they ride trends for the sole sake of "well, someone will pay us for this, right?"

if i remember anything about growing up in the 90's/2000's in this department, it was that there were a lot of people who were obsessed with baseball, and even from my limited, sheltered perspective- i had an elderly family friend who was fuuuucking obsessed with both that AND beanie babies. i wouldn't be surprised if that venn diagram was a lot more overlapping than you'd think. just think- those MLB fanatics were already all over baseball cards! what's to stop them from going ham over baseball bears? according to the tripod site i found...nothing at all. bamm beano's were crazy, even if you've likely never heard of them today. to say that ripken (bear edition) has an identity crisis, well, that'd be an understatement.

even with their exact wishes unknown...the two of them struck a bond over not having identities to call their own, thrust into a world without guidance, and further sheltered by existing on shelves for likely nearly three decades. whatever i could do, they wanted to be a new, distinct person... no matter what that entailed.

i asked if they had ANY further requests beyond that, and they stated that they wanted their minds to be together but separate- though they had long since deliberated and decided that ripken should bear their majority of the speaking power. an interesting choice- usually people go for all or nothing, especially when they haven't known each other for a long time. i get the feeling that wally wants to take a backseat...and ripken has ambitions. suppose it makes sense, in a way!

[Image: A7.png]

ripken was the first one under the knife. i decided that everything from his waist upwards would be preserved, allowing for a centaur...mermaid...thing-like body plan. ohhh, i've been wanting to do something like this for so long. seeing as both of them wanted to be prominent in their final form, using most of both bodies felt apt- and they were perfectly sized and structured for the job. his tag was removed, his seams were ripped, the works.

[Image: A8.png]

wally was next- a proper chunky bastard (his own words!) with a wrinkly body and surprisingly nice fabric. certainly the standard for beanbag plush at the time- but still, rather quality stuff, and such a fetching red color. TY never made any fantasy-colored walruses to my knowledge, and he is a lovely ketchup color. the vast majority of his body was to be preserved, with only his face removed- and his tusks kept. we couldn't deliberate on whether they'd be ideal tusks or horns for the final form...but they trusted me to make the right move.

[Image: A9.png]

extra materials were decided on as well...not every case requires this, but they're free with my halloween discount- or they would be, if i even charged money at all. isn't that great? in these two's case, we picked out fuzzy sock material that would be ideal for easing the transition between body sections, some orange ribbon meant to bring a sort of halloween-meets-nautical feeling to it all, and green embroidery floss that i would inevitably replace with orange. my vision was to stitch both parties together with a fuzzy torso blender, using the extra section to help make their new body more structurally sound, and give them that truly unique identity they both so craved. as mentioned, the ribbon was for thematics- and the embroidery floss was on hand in case a face felt right.

gutting the two of them was fairly straightforward, the seams ripping easily enough- but not too easily. it's clear that whoever made these did care about materials and construction, at least enough to make their manufacturing quality comparable to the OG beanie babies. interestingly enough, ripken's front panel included the inner legs, as well, with some gussets to provide shape- i haven't actually operated on an original beanie baby to know how legit this construction is in comparison, but my dear friend Scapula was made with a knockoff pattern that had the legs entirely separate. curious stuff! either way, ripken's polyester pellets were entirely loose, and boy, i'm glad i had a bag to capture all the guts. not a whole lot of stuffing in there, so that stuff went eeeeeverywhere.

wally on the other hand didn't need a whole lot of work. i considered leaving his body stuffed, but ended up gutting him regardless. into the bag with your organs, sir. more stuffing ratio than ripken, but still- lots of pellets spilling everywhere. while his seams ripped make him look rather...suspicious, i ended up just cutting off his whiskery face instead of bothering to rip it, because boy, under that kind of dense faux fur, good luck finding the seams easy. it was all going to be torso anyway.

the construction of the new body...well, it wasn't too bad. from conducting the initial interview to finishing the entire procedure, it was about 3 hours, give or take. longer than my other clients- but this case was going to be a large body, and the actual stitchwork was easy peasy. open and shut!

and, wow....the results!

[Image: A10.png]

presenting Shipwreck, a SPORTS TAUR after my own heart. just look at them! the two of them make for a lovingly bonded whole...they fit so well together, don't you think?

the extra segment allows for a lovely color transition, and also allowed me to make a perfect S-curve to their body- waaaay more stable structurally, and what a killer posture! the ribbon made for a nice "netting" vibe as planned...and the embroidery floss was properly utilized to make a happy smile, something that delighted the two of them to wake up to. ripken's back embroidery was maintained at his request- for reasons he said he'd rather keep to himself. i'm not one to pry!

[Image: A11.png]

all in all- what a START to my halloween event! i'll likely need some additional help for the next jobs...please feel free to leave any comments or questions about history, my process, the works.

you never know what else will come up, in a spooky season like this... Smile

]]> they say that in the depths of a gay toy apartment, there exists a small dragon, made of socks and full of...something....or other. his name is Dr. Mixup, and legend has it he and his twisted assistants are capable of bestowing incredible changes upon those who truly need them...

.... as long as they're okay with going under the knife.

A HOMEBREW DEVIANTS HOLIDAY SPECIAL

DR. MIXUP'S LABORATORY

BY MORTIS VELASQUEZ
ft. COMORANT and KNUX400

CONTENT WARNINGS
while mixup's laboratory is meant to be a fairly lighthearted affair, it delves hard into toy destruction (and somewhat slapstick descriptions of toy gore/surgery to match), discussion of toy origins and extrapolating that into character studies, and existentialism. also, knux's plush is based on a beastieball design (radillo) so if you do not want to be spoiled via a plush that does not hit the actual design of the beastie enough to be a true spoiler, keep that in mind. there may also be eyestrain-heavy images, and image descriptions will come later on, when i am less exhausted. enjoy!

[Image: A1.png]

]]> <![CDATA[ConnectiveThreads [A 2024 Fall-Winter Special]]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-932.html Fri, 18 Oct 2024 18:01:23 +0000 ThreadLurkingComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-932.html ConnectiveThreads

by BaftComorant

A glance at people through the tail end of the year through letters, messages, and online spaces.

Index:
Two World's Fiends in Mid Autumn - Released 10/18/2024

Another World's Cat at the Marigold Alter - 11/7/2024

Near Future Witches at Fall's End - Unreleased

Local Rabbits in Winter - Unreleased

A Crankshaft Pair at Year's Start - Unreleased

]]> ConnectiveThreads

by BaftComorant

A glance at people through the tail end of the year through letters, messages, and online spaces.

Index:
Two World's Fiends in Mid Autumn - Released 10/18/2024

Another World's Cat at the Marigold Alter - 11/7/2024

Near Future Witches at Fall's End - Unreleased

Local Rabbits in Winter - Unreleased

A Crankshaft Pair at Year's Start - Unreleased

]]> <![CDATA[INFERNO - A Intermission [Passing Assassin]]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-919.html Mon, 26 Aug 2024 21:36:30 +0000 ThreadLurkingComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-919.html [Image: Inferno%20Small.png]

[image description: A anthropomorphic dog woman in a jagged void between two fragmented surreal landscapes. She is postured as if you caught her in the middle of something, her expression silly but directly acknowledging the reader. She holds a book in her hands with a spread showcasing the alchemist symbols for The Sun, The Earth, and Pluto aligned. The borders of the artwork seem to be cracked open, allowing her shadow to extend past it.]

???: Hello! Seems like you've slipped down here too. The way back up isn't too hard to find, given you're willing to think outside the box.

???: Me? I'm usually down here I suppose... I'd offer you a cocktail, or some tea if we were a little closer to my spot... I'm Dolce Durante. (Dohl-Shey Duu-Rahn-Tey)

Dolce: And you...?

Dolce: Ah.. not quick to reply? Then I think that pins down who or what you are exactly... I wouldn't worry though, it's enough to separate guest from foe and that's a tad important lately.

Dolce: You're the former in case you're wondering, if you were the latter I wouldn't be taking so kindly to being given the quiet treatment. That said I should really give you chance to speak, can only gauge so much from silence. Hmm..

Dolce: You're fine by the way just.. I figure you know the rules by now. To engage with those outside your domain is to bind yourself to the rules of them... though now that these borders are cracked I don't know how long that will last. For now.. a game? One that might be a bit familiar. Let me just get a spread going and...

Dolce: Pick a card, tell me whatever inclines you toward it. I promise you there's no such thing as stupid questions or wrong answers.

(0) The Fool: The Fated Pilgrim, The Envoy of the Beginning
The proof of how far we've come, A Reminder of how much we've left behind.

(XIII) Death: The Ferryman of Change, The Path that Ends Suffering
All Good Things must come to a End, All Wounds will heal with time

(XXI) The World: The Journey's End, The Soul's Final Form
The Fruit of all life's labors, The truth that living is futility]]> [Image: Inferno%20Small.png]

▶ The First Embassy
corru works

A light flashes along your eyes, causing you to flinch.

"Hold still."
The vehicle hits a bump, but your escort holds the flashlight firmly.

You instinctively try to look out a window,
only to remember they're all shaded in the back so as to be opaque.
"At me."
Your eyes flick back to them.

The light is starting to hurt.

They pull away, turning the flashlight off.
"...Good.
I'm sure you're fine, the tests showed as much, but it doesn't hurt to be thorough.
Everything's responding well?"

You squeeze your hand.

You nod.

"Perfect.
As a final measure, I'll be going over some questions with you.
We should have time to finish before you arrive.

...Better we make absolutely sure you're lucid before deploying you on a job."

They sit back in their seat,
looking you over.

Inspecting you, as one would a collectible headed for the auction.
No marks, no blemishes.
Perfectly in order.

Apparently satisfied, they fold their hands into their lap.

Their eyes don't turn away from you.

"Ten questions.

Ready?"
You nod.

(1). "Easiest first.
What do you call yourself, and what pronouns do you use?"
- "Chime,"
- "Just,"
- "Midway,"
- "Venice,"
- "[MAKE SOMETHING UP],"

- "...she/her."
- "...ae/aer."
- "...they/them."
- "...he/him."
- "...[MAKE SOMETHING UP]."

(2). "What is your current species. I don't need every detail, simple is fine."
- "A gesabott; one of the 'classic' models meant to resemble older tech."
- "A blank body. Fairly standard, I think, though the tail is prehensile. I'm still not used to it."
- "I think I'm a mosquito. I don't know the exact species."
- "Some kind of snake. Possibly a cobra? My... hood ended up unfolding earlier, when I was stressed."
- "I don't know. I haven't seen anything like it before. What did you say the name was?"

(3). "As you should be aware, this isn't your original body.
How did you lose yours?
You should be able to remember, if the procedure's gone well. We want you to know why you're here, after all."
- "A car wreck. I was driving recklessly and swerved through a guard rail."
- "I was bitten by a severely-venomous animal. Not much of me was left by the time I was found."
- "I was at work, and the building collapsed. I was the only one injured at all."
- "...it was personal. I don't want to talk about it."
- "...[MAKE SOMETHING UP]."

(4). "Speaking of, what were you before?"
- "A ruffneck."
- "An amerveille. Canvas morph."
- "A pockitt. Roo morph."
- "I don't remember."
- "It doesn't matter."

(5). "What are some traits you would use to describe yourself? Try to say three of them. Your best guess is fine."
- "Honest, Curious, Clumsy."
- "Loyal, Articulate, Petty."
- "Easygoing, Spiritual, Reckless."
- "Considerate, Odd, Reflective, Sensitive."
- "This is stupid, how is anyone supposed to describe themselves?" (Determined, Blunt, Stubborn)

(6). "The memory-blocking effects are temporary, but for now you'll be unable to remember certain things in their entirety. We need to double-check that they're working, though.
Can you describe an especially emotional, traumatic, or important memory? As best you can.
Keep in mind, the emotional component especially will be dulled, and you'll likely only remember scattered sensations from it."
- "A boat, rocking side to side. Clear, deep blue sky above. I felt sick to my stomach, but I don't think I get seasick. I think there was a bad smell, but I don't remember what it smelled like."
- "The backroom of a library. The dusty smell from old books with dark purple covers. I felt the rush of knowing I wasn't supposed to be there, but I don't remember what I was doing."
- "A big hole in a field, one that I helped dig. The itchy sting of having brushed against some irritating plant. A clump of dyed, yellow-green fur in my hand."
- "A red hallway that seemed like it stretched on forever. Letters on a wall. A voice I don't recognize talking about an 'oscillating clock'. Broken glasses on the floor."
- "...I can't think of anything like that at all."

(7). "Do you believe you're qualified to handle this job? Why or why not?"
- "Absolutely. I've been in plenty of fights before and traveled a lot, I'll be fine."
- "Yes. I'll handle whatever I need to."
- "Well I sure fucking hope I am."
- "I've literally never done anything like this. I'm going to die."
- "Is that a trick question? What do You think? I barely know how to use my body."

(8). "Given the amount you're being paid, you'll likely have plenty left over afterwards.
What will you be spending it on?"
- "I'm moving. I can't stand the region I'm living in."
- "Not having to work another goddamn customer service job."
- "The therapy I'll need after all this."
- "It's personal. I'm not sharing."
- "I can't even think about that right now. I just want to focus on what's in front of me."

(9). "How do you feel about the job ahead of you?"
- "It's interesting. I don't know what I'll see."
- "A little excited. I want to try new things."
- "It's not like I had anything better to do."
- "Terrified. This place is supposed to be dangerous, isn't it?"
- "The fact that I'm legally obligated to this is ridiculous."

(10). "Do you feel ready?"
- "Yes. I can handle it."
- "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
- "Does it matter? I have to do this either way."
- "No, how could I be?"
- "Please stop talking."

[ ANSWER ALL QUESTIONS ]]]>
[Image: 30_11_04_24_7_45_11.png]

▶ The First Embassy
corru works

File 1-1: The Package

[image description: Two people in the room. One is masked and wearing robes. Two sets of arms, one coming from the sleeves of the robe resting lazily and the rest through the chest, smaller in frame and shape, Savvy, the protagonist, is a vague humanoid muzzled furry with a bit of a melancholic expression. Their gaze shifts away from Despina, the previously mentioned robed and masked sorceress who's mask is in permanent smile. ]

You’d spent the last hour or so pretending to sleep, the familiar footsteps of neighbors pacing in and out of their apartments flowing through your ear.

Wasn't too long until you were given a knock on your door.. usually a good sign you spent too much time in bed. You've got a bad habit of sleeping in.

Stiff bones and tired muscles make the temptation to rest longer strong.. you shake it off regardless. Frantically fishing around the apartment for something to wear, you manage to piece things together.

Crack open the door for the sorceress, their mask smiling as always.

Despina: Finally awake.. you sleep okay?

Savvy: Good morning, best I could.

Despina: Good afternoon actually… thought you were sick…

That’s the third time in a row… most people would get the slip for that...

Just talk your way through this, 'Spina’s understanding enough.

Savvy: I’m fine.. Promise I’ll make up for it-

Despina: Make up for it?

Savvy: Yeah, let me think of-

Despina: Relax. You’re not being punished.

Savvy: No?

Despina: Course not.

There was a long pause.

The sorceress places a front hand directly under the lip of their smiling mask, a serious cadence betraying the face they hide behind.

Savvy: Something else wrong or…?

Despina: I’m concerned..

Savvy: Over a little too much sleep?

Despina: It’s been recurring, are you staying up late?

Savvy: Not really..

Despina: Honest answer. Not that I doubt you just…

Savvy: You want to be sure.

Despina: Mm.. hate to be intrusive but I need to-.

Savvy: You’re fine, went to bed around 12 last night.

Despina: I see.. We should call a doctor, get someone to evaluate you. It’s been a bit after all…

Savvy: I guess.. It’s not that big a deal honestly..

Despina: Maybe. Could you show me your hand?

You hold out your left arm, detached and yet held together by phantom fibers that flux in their physicality. They take it gently with a frontal hand and give your palm a squeeze with their thumb.

Despina: No further degradation, but hardly stable either… any pain?

Savvy: Always a little, but not more than usual.

Despina: We'll figure out something to help manage it long term.. Going to be good for work today?

Savvy: Yeah, if you got details lay them out.

Despina: A delivery job. Nothing too complicated but stay safe as always..

They place down a large guitar case next to your bed.

Savvy: We smuggling a gun?

Despina: No, but close. Don’t go opening this up in public spaces. You know how it is.

Savvy: Gotcha. Metal detector safe?

Despina: Not at all.

Savvy: Noted.

Despina: Once you leave the sanction, straight to the courier site immediately.

Savvy: This a solo job?

The witch shrugged at you.

Despina: Maybe.. I’ll ask someone to meet you halfway. After that it’s out of my hands.
Savvy: I can work with that.

Despina: Wouldn't ask if you couldn't but.. you know.

The witch took a moment to pause and look round the room a little

Despina: Ah good! You've managed to get the analog radio installed!

Savvy: Yeah well.. kind a hassle if I'm honest.

Despina: Yes well.. it's traditional. Everyone who works in our field should know how to operate one.

Savvy: Most people got phones for that..

Despina: You don't want to be making pacts with odd devils through a phone, it's inviting them far more...

Savvy: Yeah, I know. It's been handy for my testing at least.

Despina: Mm! You have anything in mind?

They pause and take a look at the brain on your counter.

Despina: Should I be concerned?

Savvy: Guy volunteered as long as I don't break anything.

Despina: And who or where is that "guy" exactly?

Savvy: I dunno, probably chilling. It's fine, they offered.

Despina: Mm.. I'll have to check in on that then.

Savvy: I can stop.

Despina: Trust me this is tame. Just.. wasn't anticipating you to dive in so quickly to the mad science aspect of this career.

Savvy: When in Rome.. that's a place, yeah?

Despina: It is.

Despina looks over at the clock on the radio.

Savvy: Time to go?

Despina: Soon as you can. If you're unable, I can find a sub-

Savvy: Should be fine. Any last minute job details?

Despina: No, the less the better. If you must, you can take a look inside the case but I can't really inform you more than that.

That’s… not a good sign.

You were tempted to ask for more details but from experience, that’s a sign of probing and cognitohazards being something to watch out for. More common on the job than anyone liked to admit.

You’ve pushed through weirder...

Despina: Also....

Savvy: Meds?

Despina: …If you could. Running low.

Savvy: I’ve seen you without them, not taking any chances. Leave things to me for today.

Despina: If you’re sure.. And of course you’re always welcome to opt out-

Savvy: Nah. Told you I'd be fine. Want to get something done today.

Despina: I know..

Despina reluctantly lets go of your hand.

Savvy: I’ll handle it quickly, grab your meds, maybe bring home some pizza or something.

Savvy:.. Does sound nice actually…

Despina: Now uh.. Out of my room for a bit, yeah? Gotta shower, prep, you know.

Despina: Of course. I'll see you at the lobby?

Savvy: Yeah. Soon.

They quickly scuttle through the door, closing it behind.

You let out a noise of relief and take a moment to organize your priorities right now. Breakfast, a shower, quick visit to Huevo's... ]]> Reader Version to Be Added Soon

File 1-1: The Package

[Image: Merth%20from%20Furby%20Enby.png]

Based loosely on the events of a historical period in Paradiso, you might’ve grown up with a romanticized take on the story generally known in most parts as “The Starmen Affair.”

It’s actually a pretty common thing for it to be mandatory reading in schools. Lots to say on that but a little known fact is that it’s actually the sequel to another novel, “The King’s Hand”, a classic tragedy that takes place in the formative years of Paradiso, one that really goes perfectly hand in hand with its companion novel.

You play “The King”, a self proclaimed “Champion of the Meek” who sets out on an adventure to form an army to reclaim what they dub “The god’s capital” after being banished.

You’re allowed and encouraged to name “The King” and the various party members you encounter, but for the sake of ease we’ll just use the default name.

The game is a mix of dungeon crawling and tactical rpg gameplay, something that I never really knew I wanted til now? It’s a bit of an influential one in freeware crowds too…

What really sets it apart is how heavy it puts emphasis on narrative, to the point that the mechanics of the game are actively willing to sabotage you to get the story across.

I think it’s a bold move to make a game less “fun” for the sake of immersion. Party members at on their own most of the time. You can make suggestions and if your bond is close or things are tight, they will just outright let you make shots in encounters but..

A lot of the time you just drop because you haven’t managed enough food to keep people from squabbling..

There’s management as a big element, trying to keep a good pace and well supplied between quests.

[Image: emotion.png]

Also,these primitive but ambitious cutscenes do a lot for me.. hits different with the music..

It’s a brutal game, incredibly feast or famine on the “Criticalist” Difficulty.

There’s also branching paths too? Ones that really let you explore elements from the source material in a way that play into the nature of the actual historical events being pretty disputed in nature.

Weird to think how much is lost to time.

Recruiting party members is a mix of folks you meet in town, some mandatory story ones, and even one you meet as a boss?

[Image: Mission%20battle.png]

Mission is my favorite for that, they’re really fast at felling your party members when you first meet them, playfully taunting you early on and then as things get desperate, makes a point by leaving you for last.

You can kill them of course, but the “canon” route wants you to recruit them, and why wouldn’t you?

Love them. Kind of a bastard, a little silly and a bit hard to understand.

Them joins you because they like the idea of living in a king’s castle. And honestly? Love that energy. Such a bastard… Want to cosplay them some day…

Needless to say, I picked them as the main romance for my run. You can actually develop weirdly complicated relationships with most of the party!

Despite everything, she’s pretty loyal to the end.

And uh.. I guess this is where I get into spoiler thoughts and localization weirdness?

There’s a lot of script edits based on region. The Spells “Holy Fire” and “Heaven’s Door” being replaced with “Pearl Flame” and “Sky Highway.” is a pretty notable one in a more popular distribution.

The nature of the red and green cavaliers? I mean in any script their closeness is apparent, and while it’s not outright said it’s clear their feelings for each other are more just platonic foils. But in some versions they seem to just loathe each other! Apparently it was a homage to a tv show in a certain continent where the lead couple is just always at each other’s throats about the milk?

The pronouns of Lucifer, the pretty bard of the party, are apparently different across scripts because even historians are still disputing it, so it’s based on the local translations of the book this game is inspired by. Wild honestly.. In my version Lucifer is she/her.

Gotta wonder if maybe they’re all right?

Non-Fat vs low fat is a pretty real discussion. A friend of mine said that if you can’t figure that out when you move in together, you shouldn’t get married. Kind of extreme but… I get it?

Also I cried when Mission gives up their form to become a sword in the route where you recruit them. They wants to live forever so they can be there for you in every life..

[Image: mission%20end.png]

I want something like that maybe, but also that’s kind of sad.

I wanna cosplay them and a few other characters but I can’t find consistent examples of full body art. Seems like official illustrations are all over and inconsistent. Maybe I should go into those in a different post.

Overall the story had me engaged, the tragedy of knowing that any efforts toward a kind rule fell apart pretty much as soon as the king passed really hurt. In the novel, they only last 9 years after they become ruler, the strain of it all doing them in.

The royal family was apparently slain centuries later in a big revolution, many of the game’s real life inspirations for the “Ultima” weapons are said to be in the castle still, but it’s pretty forbidden.

The developers have several spiritual successors to this game including“True King’s Gauntlet” which is still active and popular among rpg crowds to this day. It’s neat stuff.

Overall I think it’s worth a try. It’s brutally difficult and has a lot of the roughness you expect from RPGs of the era, but if you’re into a bit of historical drama and an example of a super narrative driven game from way back when? Give it a crack, obtain it legally if you can since copies can go for up to 300 bucks in our local currency.

Credits to: and the DreamwavePreservation forum for helping me learn about and get access to this game.]]> Hey! So I’m a bit of a sucker for a lot of old media, spend a lot of time each week going to local pawn shops, swap meets, old video and record shops, the works.

And I decided I wanted to start talking more about some of the neat finds? Specifically, a rare original script version of a game that a online friend of mine managed to recommend and I got lucky enough to pick up from a tent selling import films and games.

Introducing, “Swordking’s Fold!”

[Image: Merth%20from%20Furby%20Enby.png]

I want something like that maybe, but also that’s kind of sad.

I wanna cosplay them and a few other characters but I can’t find consistent examples of full body art. Seems like official illustrations are all over and inconsistent. Maybe I should go into those in a different post.

Overall the story had me engaged, the tragedy of knowing that any efforts toward a kind rule fell apart pretty much as soon as the king passed really hurt. In the novel, they only last 9 years after they become ruler, the strain of it all doing them in.

The royal family was apparently slain centuries later in a big revolution, many of the game’s real life inspirations for the “Ultima” weapons are said to be in the castle still, but it’s pretty forbidden.

The developers have several spiritual successors to this game including“True King’s Gauntlet” which is still active and popular among rpg crowds to this day. It’s neat stuff.

Overall I think it’s worth a try. It’s brutally difficult and has a lot of the roughness you expect from RPGs of the era, but if you’re into a bit of historical drama and an example of a super narrative driven game from way back when? Give it a crack, obtain it legally if you can since copies can go for up to 300 bucks in our local currency.

Credits to: and the DreamwavePreservation forum for helping me learn about and get access to this game.]]> <![CDATA[[CRANKSHAFT RAFFLESIAN] Crankshaft Effect]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-864.html Sun, 05 Nov 2023 19:40:44 +0000 ThreadLurkingComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-864.html A Rancher's Memory: Prelude
CW: None
Perspective: Dotty Coil
Chapter 1

[Image: CrankshaftEffect1.png]

There’s a comfortable familiarity to the old burger shop. It’s a small little local joint within walking distance, making it more than an easy favorite after long days.

The two of you get your usual orders, the typical standard combo you see at any place like this for yourself, and your wonderful rabbit partner insisting on one of her many secret menu wonders that she swears on. You occasionally give things a try, despite your initial fears.

With that said, the mood isn’t entirely there today. She hasn’t said much since you got your food after all.

And what’s a meal between the two of you without a little bit of banter?

Dotty: You’ve been pretty quiet..

Lex: You’re pretty quiet too you know?

Dotty: Yeah, that’s true…

Dotty: Got a lot on my mind lately I guess, you?

Lex: Absolutely.

Dotty: Like…

Dotty: Do you or Jam wanna share first actually? They haven’t spoken to me at all today.

Lex: Jam’s fine, just tired from work. Take the stage.

Dotty: Right.

Dotty: Guess just thinking about how…

Dotty: I dunno, trying to be my own person more.

Lex: I mean you are?

Dotty: Like technically yeah but..

Dotty: Whole reason I’m here’s cause of a life I don’t remember.

Dotty: Lot of rancher units like me got scrapped after going dormant. We did our job and then slowly fizzled..

Dotty: Put a lot of work into waking up what’s left of us and…

Dotty: I got priority because in some other life I’m a hero? Doesn’t feel right I guess.

Dotty: And with the memories sorta coming back more and more, I can see her.

Dotty: I can see here clear as day but like…

Dotty: She’s not me. Not anymore.

Dotty: Even if everything came back, don’t think I could be.

Dotty: She wouldn’t want it anyway, don’t think.

Dotty: She would’ve liked what we have going on.. Being made to fight things people barely understand just…

Dotty: Dying for a future you were never going to see.

Dotty: And just… opportunities you’ll never get living as a weapon.

Dotty: I can feel that… feels like what I have right now’s not something I deserve sometimes.

Dotty: Any one of us could’ve been just as important.

Dotty: Am I overthinking that?

Lex: Don’t think so.

Dotty: Back then she had no idea if she was ever going to see the clear sky ever again… and now I guess just…

Dotty: Here we are, living the life someone never got.

Dotty: Someone who shared the same body.

Lex: You can back out of the program if you want, you know?

Lex: They said you can.

Lex: You don’t really belong to anyone anymore.

Dotty: I know but…

Dotty: I guess part of me hopes that by the end of this I’ll meet her in some way.

Dotty: Think that’s asking a lot?

Lex: Nah. If she shows her face we’ll make sure to give her the proper welcome. Like…

Lex: You never had a problem with me and Jam, right?

Dotty: I mean I got no idea if that’s how it’ll happen.

Lex: Still.

Dotty: Still..

Dotty: Right now the way she exists is more like a feeling. There’s something moving around inside.

Dotty: Seeing all sorts of people long gone, places she used to visit regularly, even just the evening sky… get a rumbling from all that.

Dotty: And I guess sometimes, even just looking at you…

Lex: Really?

Dotty: Yeah like…

Dotty: God this might make this all weird…

Lex: I mean I don’t mind.

Dotty: Guess just..

Dotty: I draw a lot of things I remember in those sketchbooks, you’ve seen them.

Lex: Yeah!

Dotty: And… there’s a rabbit who shows up a ton.

Lex: Yeah, I know the one you’re talking about.

Lex: Guess I’ve been wondering when we’re gonna get to that for awhile.

Dotty: …What do you mean?

Lex: Always seem sad when it comes up I guess so… I figured they had to be someone important.

Dotty: Mm..

Lex: You were close. Like really close.

Dotty: Yeah..

Dotty: Figured it’d be weird but-

Lex: Why? You’re allowed.

Lex: Like, I want to know everything about you.

Lex: And I hope that’s not asking a lot or anything, you don’t gotta but..

Lex: You can trust us, you know?

Dotty: Mm..

Lex: And whatever’ll help you, that’s what we’ll do.

Lex: So like..

Lex: I wouldn’t worry.

Dotty: Right…

Dotty: I guess you just remind that part of me a lot.

Dotty: And it makes me happy, you know?

Dotty: Both who I am now and who I used to be…

Dotty: It’s peace..

Dotty: I guess when I think about it..

Dotty: You really are my life these days, you know?

Lex: Same…

Lex: Wouldn’t want it any other way.

Lex:... Do you wanna go for a walk? Want some air to help me think. Got a lot to say but like..

Lex: I wanna get this right, you know?

Dotty: Yeah. I’m pretty much done. I’ll ask the register for a bag. ]]> A Rancher's Memory: Prelude
CW: None
Perspective: Dotty Coil
Chapter 1

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