#DUNGEON KEEPER DEEPER DUNGEONS

[retrocgads]

USA 1997

#USA1997 #BULLFROG PRODUCTIONS #ELECTRONIC ARTS #STRATEGY #IBM #DUNGEON KEEPER #DUNGEON KEEPER DEEPER DUNGEONS

[phantomyre]

Analyzing Vincent's Chamber in Rebirth

Vincent's Chamber as seen in FF7 OG

Vincent's Chamber as seen in Crisis Core Reunion

Vincent's Chamber as seen in Dirge of Cerberus First off-- this is obviously highly speculative, and borderline obsessive, but anyone who knows Squeenix and has done any kind of deep-lore investigation with FF7, you'll know that they like to include a lot of details and symbolism. As such, I think we can glean a few things based on what we see within the 4 seconds of Vincent's reveal. For those who've played FF7 OG, you may immediately notice the 'dungeon' Vincent is meant to be locked in no longer resembles a prison-- but rather a study lounge. Cobwebs, skeletons, chains, etc are all absent. Not only that, it is furnished in such a way that implies someone still lives there. One of the first details we may notice is the ample books strewn about, both half-hazardly stacked around an antique luxury leather chair, and many more by a large bookshelf and others besides. One book in particular is laid open beside on a nearby coffee-table, indicating it was the most recent book of study. Notably, there is a porcelain mug beside the open book, presumably filled with alcohol as there are several liquor bottles nearby. The lantern placed in the center appears to belong to Cloud and Co as the room is already heavily lit by wall lights and candle-sticks. Likely Cloud and Cait ventured into the chamber on their own before the rest of them team showed up, Vincent being awakened by Cloud and Cait as they've fallen beside the coffin. And speaking of coffin...

Not only does Vincent have a Cerberus gun and phone, but now he has a custom Cerberus coffin as well. While we can speculate who might have decorated his coffin, Cerberus is symbolic for Vincent's mindset (Cerberus guards the gates of hell in Greek lore, meaning Vincent is associated to being the 'keeper of hell's gate' and how he has locked himself to his nightmares/past). The fact that now he has a custom coffin implies that it's no longer a temporary piece. Instead, it has become a part of him, if not permanently. Much like his Cerberus gun. Notice how it's also not dusty but very clean, plush on the inside, and even has a pillow of all things. Certainly doesn't look to be something a self-deprecating, self-loathing individual would sleep in. Moving on to the other parts of the room... One of the more interesting pieces of furniture in the room is the wood stove placed conveniently close to Vincent's coffin and the coffee table (no, that is not a TV). It looks as though Vincent has decided to forego suffering the chill of the damp cold basement, this time-- a stark contrast to the overall environment he had previously been placed in.

Once we get a better view of the other side of the room, the room is notably very warm in terms of color-tone, juxtaposed to the cold tones of the outside of the chambers. Might this be a type of metaphor for how Vincent appears cold on the outside yet is warm on the inside? What is also strange is that there appears to be yet another basement just outside of Vincent's chamber as it goes even deeper into the basement. This implies that Vincent is not locked in the deepest part of the basement as was once assumed. Once again, the room is clear of dust and otherwise looks fairly clean. Yet again implying someone has been active within the room. Looking towards the back, the doors are now double-doors as opposed to the single dungeon-style door. Last but not least-- Vincent himself is different. As seen in the image above, and as many have noted, Vincent's hair is no longer unkempt or barbed. As a matter of fact, it is similarly styled to Cloud's hair but more importantly, looks pretty soft for being asleep for almost 30 years. SE has progressively been adding barbs to Vincent's hair, but this time around, he is completely devoid of Chaos-aesthetics. His cloak is no longer torn in exaggerated forms, as well, though it still looks very worn on the hem. Some minor details are that his buckles have been rearranged as seen on his thigh and waist (thankgoodness they kept the tiny DoC waist and slutty hips). The buckles on his leather 'shirt' are all arranged on the front instead of off to the side. He also appears to have something on his left thigh, though it is extremely hard to tell. His gauntlet looks slightly altered and his sabatons look more functional in terms of movement, though keeping the overall iconic design. The biggest alteration of his attire are the grieves attached to his shins which look as though they will provide a lot more protection (and damage) while performing melee and close-range combat. Over-all, Vincent looks a lot more like a medieval knight than ever before.

CONCLUSION: What's all of this tell us, you might ask...? Of course it could all be merely over-analyzing. However, I think what is being presented to us is a visual representation of who this version of Vincent really is. It doesn't look like he has been merely sleeping in his coffin for the past 20-30 years and condemning himself to eternal torment. Unless the room is being regularly used by someone else, it appears as though Vincent actually been fairly active, albeit behind closed doors. Everything from the books, the wine, the layout, etc. all seems to indicate we may no longer be dealing with a Vincent who only wanted to seal himself away in his despair-- but rather someone who is actively searching for answers. The Vincent we meet in Rebirth may no longer be the ultra 'emo' character fans have always known him to be. Something has changed about Vincent. And with the way things are going in the Remake trilogy, I don't think anyone should be surprised at this point. Because if there's anyone outside of Sephiroth and Aerith (and now Red) who ought to have some knowledge of what's taking place-- it should be Vincent. Edit: One story-point I neglected to note--- if Vincent has indeed been delving into the archives of Shinra Manor, and by default the library, then we might expect him to have some working knowledge of Omega/Chaos, and the Protomateria already. This might be expected to an extent, given what we've already seen in Remake. And if anything else... it was just a fun silly fan-speculation.

#vincent valentine #final fantasy #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy 7 rebirth #ffvii rebirth #ffvii #vincent musings

[vivianquill]

there's another ranchers/zits/giggs au story concept in my head i've been playing with, so let's-- just call this a demo.

Feel free to send asks or just give general feedback, not only will it help me to flesh out the au more, it'll also give me more ideas on where to go. I've seen similar aus out there, but nothing quite like this one-- or having all the same concepts as this one. If people like it, I might turn it into an actual longfic. but i tend to run out of steam on my longfics (mostly due to a lack of interaction tbh. if no one else is excited about my au, then it's not worth pursuing, right? but that's my problem and something I have to work through myself, not something for anyone else to fix)

Anyway.

This is a thing.

The moment Jimmy laid eyes on Tango, he knew something was-- off-- about him.

They'd met him in a tavern, in the small town that lay below the abandoned Deepfrost Citadel. Jimmy's adventuring troupe had been commissioned with finding an artifact in the Citadel, and bringing it back to its rightful owner. The bounty offered would be enough to pay off the troupe's debts and much much more. When they'd asked around for any sort of maps, or a guide, the tavern keeper had pointed them over to Tango.

"He's the only one to have ever made it out of that cursed place alive." The dwarf had told them, pointing to where their future guide was sitting in the corner, "If you want a guide, he's the only one who can."

Jimmy's sense for danger had shivered up his spine and stolen his breath the moment he looked over. But-- no one in his troupe paid any attention to him anyway.

Besides, the negotiations had gone well, Tango seemed amical enough, and no one else seemed to have a problem with him. It was only Jimmy, and his overzealous avian anxiety. They would pay Tango half his fee up front, and half when they got back to the village safely.

It took them half a week to get up to the Citadel, and that was with the help and knowledge of Tango as their guide. Jimmy kept him at arms' length, not quite knowing why but deciding to trust his gut on this one. Tango was dangerous, in a way that he couldn't figure out. He'd brought it up to the others in his troupe, but none of them believed him. They all loved Tango. He was clever, quick to laugh and even quicker to crack a joke, and ever so useful.

By the time they made it to the door of the Citadel, Tango had become an invaluable member of the troupe.

Tango disappeared that first night, spent barricaded in an outlying tower and hoping not to freeze to death. Jimmy had been on watch, and between one glance and the next, Tango hadn't been in his bedroll anymore.

But-- he'd been right back in the morning, acting like Jimmy didn't know what he was talking about.

It was the little things that kept setting Jimmy on edge. Tango knew a little too much about the Citadel, he'd found the 'hidden' door to the crypts too easily, had pushed the troupe to descend into the depths faster than was safe, not letting them scout it with a familiar like they normally would. He could pick the locks almost like he had a silent knock spell in his fingers, and somehow knew his way through the maze of icy caverns like the back of his hand.

And every night, after everyone was asleep, he disappeared. Jimmy was the only one who noticed. No one else believed him either, did they just-- not notice the empty bedroll when they were on watch?

When they finally believed him, it wasn't until Tango disappeared for good. One morning, he just-- didn't come back.

Then the monsters started appearing.

One thing lead to another as they pressed deeper and deeper into the dungeon under the Citadel, icy crypts full of wraiths and furry beasts morphing into wet caverns covered in mushrooms and a pirate ship complete with it's undead crew; leading down into black mines that had supposedly been blocked off by cave ins over a hundred years ago-- and before they knew it they'd lost a member of the troupe-- their healer-- and then they were tripping tail over teakettle into a maze so dark and cold that even those in the troupe with darkvision couldn't see.

It spat them out into a chamber not unlike the throne room found mirrored high above in the Deepfrost Citadel. It was full of gold and magic and things that would make any adventurer drool at the prospect of having them to keep.

Jimmy hadn't felt 'safe'-- not since he'd first met Tango in that tavern all those weeks ago-- but the sense of someone watching them stayed his hand.

The rest of the troupe had gotten busy, plundering everything in reach and searching for the artifact they'd been sent to collect.

But not Jimmy.

When asked why he wasn't stuffing his pockets with gold, he waved off the troupe with the excuse of keeping watch. After all, there were the monsters to contend with still--

Tango's giggle seemed to come from everywhere at once.

"Oh, you really should have listened to poor, sweet Jimmy when you had the chance~"

And suddenly Tango was there, on the throne in the center of the room, but instead of the blond, brown-eyed and rough-hewn guide they'd come to know and trust, it was a creature made of frost and shadows.

Jimmy's heart dropped out his stomach.

"Dragon--!"

Oh, they were dead.

Scratch that. Apparently everyone but Jimmy was dead.

Not like that was much better.

#team rancher #team rancher au #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #viviwrites #a new au #dragonfrost au #dont mind me #if you have questions #just ask #its sorta a dnd adjacent world #Tango would be the rough equivalent of a silver dragon. #for anyone curious #the longfic would be more of a play on the dungeon guide jimmy aus i've seen #where he 'guides' an adventuring parties to their deaths to protect tango and the hoard. #but instead its the giggs crew (+ maybe pearl?) and they are just here to explore. (and also find jimmy) #(they don't know jimmy is jimmy because dragon magic) #and tango just wants friends. mostly #but most 'mortals' he meets are selfish and greedy #leading them to his hoard is a test.

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

what do you think about people copying your art style?

hi anonymous, notes from church;

to your question: about the same answer as the pinterest but more apathetic depending on how general you mean -- there is something incompatible-seeming to me regarding any-one interested in art to deny the aspect of influence in how we motivate ourselves; ie: often i see artists, animes, books, sentences, games, that just make me go "wow [they] did something amazing, i want to try to do that in the way they did" & i:ll imitate it pretty flagrantly, whether it be attempting to write cormac-like without punctuation, or outright ripping language from KJV bible, or pulling up an artbook for gate keepers and studying how the artist draws hairs and eyes, or looking at some AI amalgamate artwork of religious art and wanting to make something similar -- everything is just there to be eaten (dungeon meshi quote roughly, i watched the first episode day before last) and eating is the right of the living;

but, that:s all absconding from the Personal aspect of seeing art that seems extremely close to mine, and the weak personal part of me often feels a little hurt/wounded to see that, barring any credit: cause (like any other) i like recognition and even if some-times i make things lame, tepid: i still have a prideful spark that says mine! ~but i also think this isn:t a good-part of me, but it:s my flawed person-part of me. so: mostly i don:t care, even if it sometimes hurts me on a pride level; i feel worse if someone gets attacked over being influenced by me; but i:d feel absolute worse if i learned that they received money to fund the Warhammer Night Lords 40k Kill Team Fund off of work i made and i received nothing -- there:s nothing worse; there:s no hell deeper; there:s also no heaven higher than receiving money to fund the Warhammer Night Lords 40k Kill Team Fund but it:d be pale without the possibility of hell on the other side, too, you know? that:s art;

happy sabbath, by the way, anonymous: it:s hand-held sabbath when the 8th and seventh-day calendars overlap: yay, verily; consider observing and (if left handed) adopt a simple vow of chirality to only write mirrored excluding legal documents and when sinister-direction would hamper purpose (like addressing envelopes, packages); (sitting in church today i realized i struggled immensely visualizing how to write 'forwards' in my head, after writing backwards for so many years it finally flipped completely in my head); take care

[katyahina]

Healing Church and Byrgenwerth used to be the one! (sort of hidden lore?)

Oh boy, I am really happy I got this ask! Will answer in a legit post if you don't mind. Yeah, this one is a little hard to unravel, but in fact plenty of the hints are here. So, we are bouncing from this bit about Alfred's dialogue:

(I will be using retranslations excerpts from Last Protagonist's document ( x ) as usual)

However it is important to notice that those who delved in the dungeons THE first are Willem, Dores and the gatekeeper! Something you can only learn if you pull an unlikely parkour in the Forbidden Woods and get an obscure item:

So from now on we enter the ‘blink and you'll miss it’ territory! 1 - ‘Eye’, the rune that is indeed a voice of Ebrietas, was also a symbol of the research for the Arcane Truth (eyes on the inside) that Willem pursued. 2 - Meanwhile, Isz Chalice that resulted in Choir finally meeting Ebrietas is a cornerstone of the Choir. 3 - MEANWHILE, Choir happened after Research Hall (in fact, happened on its ‘ruins’) - whereas Research Hall was something that belonged to the Healing Church... *takes deep breath* MEANWHILE, in early days of its existence, Healing Church was pursuing research for the arcane and eyes inside IN the Research Hall!

1:

2:

3:

As for the Choir forming where Reseach Hall once was, it is also obvious enough from THE game - Orphanage in ‘reality’ is exactly where Lumenflowers Garden in Hunter’s Nightmare is, and you can see the entrance from the balcony too - one that had beds in the Nightmare version, but no longer has it in ‘reality’!

Okay, you get the drill! So this is what we can conclude with the most probability:

Willem, Dores and the gatekeeper delved into the dungeons (ones that were not sealed yet, for one reason or another) and discovered signs of the cosmic Kin, Ebrietas most specifically. Caryll was able to decipher the sound from one of them, as they ARE linked to Ebrietas herself, thus Eye rune was discovered and the start for seeking eyes on the inside began! This might or might not been exactly what given the hunch to seek Fishing Hamlet (since they are some ancient Pthumerians leftover secluded civilisation), but in either case they got curious. After Fishing Hamlet, Research Hall happened and the patients started to dive deeper (figurally and literally lol) which resulted to closer connection to the cosmos/stars!

❗ A small interruption; Kos (or some say Kosm) isn’t necessarily FROM the cosmos; her actual Japanese name is Gos ( ゴース , Gōsu) as in like, ‘ghost’. Ebrietas, however, is properly called Daughter of the Stars (Hoshi no Musume), not ‘cosmos’. But ghost in reference to Kos’ actual name most likely refers to the phantasms. My headcanon is that Kos has something to do with the folks that DID initially abandon Ebrietas after she, so to say, gave them everything they needed, so helped them to ascend:

A potential explanation of her humanlike face?

Back to the Healing Church history!!! So, patients try to reach for the stars/cosmos for salvation, ok? (Interesting pair with the fact that pointy hats of Keepers of the Old Lords are said to look upwards as a proof of some sin) For one reason or another, Research Hall as it is known gets re-purposed, and instead they decide to teach orphans! My guess is that children - PARENTLESS children specifically - are the easiest way to summon Great Ones since Great Ones do want to find a (surrogate) child. So they will more likely speak with the kids that seek a parent, right? But Choir already exists as they decide to find Ebrietas already, and they do!

Still existing connection with Willem is also likely because petrified spider Ebrietas weeps at is most likely Rom herself! Byrgenwerth is said to be floating between Nightmare, making Rom guarding the lake her astral body, but her second body is in the dungeons! Queen Yharnam is, likewise a character who appears in the Lake (astral plane, and Nightmare too) as a peaceful person, but is hostile in the dungeons! So I think whatever happened to Rom split her in two, and perhaps similar thing happened with Queen Yharnam! But Byrgenwerth does have like... half of Rom at least... you know?

(Translation from here ( x ))

Winged God, Voice and Terror probably being Wet Nurse, Oedon and Flora respectively! Either way first Ebrietas cares about Rom to cry over her fate (?) later, then Rom is retracted in Byrgenwerth by Willem, but Ebrietas interacts with the Choir, which IS upper echelon of the Healing Church, so by the logic of what most likely happened to Rom, Willem was able to interact with the Choir, and very closely so, not just ‘hey remember that old man that once taught us stuff, lets copy his hat’.

Speaking of the hats!

Here is this guy right? And the whole altar seems to depict the process of the Blood Transfusion like what happens to Paleblood Hunter at the very start - there is a dream about beast, so they already had a hunch as to why Old Blood should be feared! Naturally, this statue could’ve been depicting Laurence rather than Willem, but... Not only that’d be a little off brand as Laurence is clearly more interested in what advantages Old Blood can give (moreso than ‘eyes’ it seems), but here is also a very interesting detail about Laurence’s status:

(Note from this ( x ) article, same I took Ebrietas’ real title from)

So basically, Laurence is unambigiously titled with the status that means ‘a person who REPLACES the person who is an ACTUAL leader of the church while they’re off duty’! So there MUST be an actual pope/bishop! And... honestly, I see no potential figure other than Willem - and Laurence is his vicar. Maybe Willem was also the first pope... but also the last. My personal headcanon is that Laurence’s last display of respect to Willem was to prohibit ever appointing another pope/bishop so now everyone in charge are ‘vicars’.

I will also bring up this bit:

(I talked about nature of Frenzy a bit more detailed in this ( x ) post, but TLDR; Frenzy is tied to the thirst for blood and hunt hence it resulting in one’s blood solidifying in literal spears (weapons), and even scholars aren’t safe from it - notes like ‘Hunt the Great Ones. Hunt the Great Ones.’ and ‘Three Eye Cords’ in Byrgenwerth suggest they got a hunch that they need to kill Great Ones to get their infants’ cords for eyes inside. Pretty much this is why consuming blood helps to calm Frenzy.)

So yes, in my opinion Occam’s Razor suggests that Byrgenwerth started to research for the eyes inside, that was causing Frenzy here and there, and they invented blood-based medicine, which inspired Laurence to become more interested in Blood Ministration than ascension through Arcane! Willem though, knew it was a dangerous path, as Byrgenwerth + early Healing Church established the adage.

Also, in this post about Frenzy I bring up that the prayer Amelia reads is also read by a white hunter in Research Hall (and by a hunter in black garb but only in Japanese), however Research Hall version MISSES ‘seek the old blood’ bit - it is JUST ‘beware of fraility of men’ sentiment, nothing about the power consuming the blood will give you.

So yeah! In the conclusion. Seems like Healing Church became a thing - and blood ministration too, as it proven to be effective against the Frenzy people who perceive too much Arcane enlightenment face, but Willem with his ‘inner eyes’ idea has been around - at least until Ebrietas herself was found and formed the bond with Rom! My theory as to how Laurence split from Willem is the moment where Healing Church deems Byrgenwerth a forbidden place!

So as we know, Alfred is a deluded fanboy of Logarius and Healing Church (not a protege as translators made it sound, he simply follows his teachings), so he believes whatever they say! We remember that Maria affiliatee of the Healing Church and Byrgenwerth herself is a subject to the weird vilebloods’ blood/fire magic (however she doesn’t like it), we also remember this shit:

And we ALSO remember that armours very similar to those from Cainhurst knighst but lower on polygons are in dungeons:

(Makes me think these losers kept trying to reclaim their lost heritage from Pthumeru until Gehrman finally informed them that beasts are too fast for heavy armour and showed these losers how to do trick weapons and proper attire - perhaps Maria was the first, and those who remained in Cainhurst stole her new drip... But I sidetrack.)

Either way, it makes no sense Healing Church is in enmity with Vilebloods, right? It makes me think that nourishing animosity towards Cainhurst was a planned action of Healing Church in order to justify Cainhurst massacre, and under guise of ‘purification’ steal the cord of Great One infant Annalise was pregnant with - the cord that served to conjure Hunter’s Dream! I talk more about this theory in this ( x ) post but tldr; Annalise was a redhead whose hair is now demelanized whereas Arianna’s hair turn from more vivid yellow blonde to white after she gives birth, both are vilebloods, also Annalise now has to hide her face under mask whereas Flora who has open guts and is implied having lost a baby has terribly distorted face, so perhaps GO infant being aborted results in the face horribly distorted by grief! Nevermind this bloody trail leading to under her skirt...

(I also heard that in earlier versions of Bloodborne before patches/DLC, the cord you pick in Abandoned Workshop actually WAS said to be brought by Executioners from Cainhurst and later that description was cut out. So if anyone has a visual proof of this - please, please, PLEASE I am BEGGING you, show it to me!)

So they needed to explain why Cainhurst was bad? And perhaps it went like this:

- Uhhhh hold on but why Cainhurst is bad because of using blood, were not YOU Byrgenwerth guys who discovered the blood to begin with?

- E-eeerr... Someone betrayed us!

So Byrgenwerth became a scapegoat to blame, massacre happened (possibly after Maria’s death, I doubt she’d allow Healing Church to do THAT), and now they needed to deal with the ‘traitors’ to save the effect of ruthless ‘salvation’ of Healing Church - at the cost of Laurence betraying Byrgenwerth, however Willem was also there when the plan of Hunter’s Dream was made.

And we ended up having three factions of the Healing Church - the ‘normie’ Healing Church that specifies on blood ministration (led by Laurence and currently, by Emilia) and two upper echelons of it that still pursue ideas of ascension through eyes on the inside (Choir and School of Mensis).

Yeah, we kinda came from more or less solid evidences to more vague/speculative ones, and to get the idea better I needed to turn to other, connected ideas but that’s the beauty (the pain) of Bloodborne lore - everything is connected! It is basically me gluing shards of a once whole object Miyazaki scattered because he drinks tears of lorediggers but yeah… I kinda throw such points casually because for me all this thing is already a no-brainer and internalised xd

#ask replies #bloodborne #bloodborne theory #laurence the first vicar #provost willem #master willem #healing church #not art #at this rate i should make a document of my theories or a masterpost #for all 4 or my fans i gues ahaha #for me all these things are just so natural and automatic #but when i try to explain this or that it is like... an essay #can i invent 'kats bloodborne theories' Rune so anyone can just learn it instead of reading my longposts? ahaha #there are just so many things in bb to talk about! #like poor annalise losing a baby before it was born apparently... #executioners are the worst #good job for miyazaki showing horrors of crusaders as a concept without actually showing it #i often think micolash was a mastermind behind even LETTING cainhurst know of an unholy pregnancy with a baby amygdala #and then coercing laurence into following his plans #because of course #'blaming the first vicar and his head doctor is always a solid strategy' - legit henriett's detective diary notes lol

[firesourcegames]

Dev Blog 2 – The Deck-Building-Rogue-like-Auto-Battler-Tower-Defense

When we started working on Bad Hand: Rise of the Discarded, it was a very different idea from what it is now. It even had another name: Back then, it was called Nunaq Errani and the idea was to create a rogue-lite action-RPG with an intriguing spooky story. Style-Wise, it was supposed to be a pixel-art game, both out of choice and out of necessity: With no artist on the team, buying in pixel art is both easier and cheaper than having someone external designing a full game in high definition. But it was a choice, too, since all of us genuinely liked pixel art. (We still do – that’s perhaps the only part of the game that didn’t change).

We were making good progress on the fundamentals of the game, when one day, as we were discussing the way forward, we suddenly came to a very sudden and unexpected conclusion:

What we were building right now wasn’t very new.

Sure, there is absolutely nothing wrong with a rogue-lite dungeon crawler. We all played and loved Hades and Dead Cells and Binding of Isaac and Crypt of the Necrodancer and Spelunky and of course Rogue Legacy and …

Yeah.

So, the concept wasn’t very new. There are plenty of great games out there to compete (take Hades for example: If you haven’t, you should grab a copy immediately and play it!) and although we had some mildly unusual spins in our idea, and, of course, a pretty original story, at the end of the day players had a lot of titles to compare our game to.

Well. The head is round so the thoughts can change course, right? After a short bit of brainstorming, we came up with a wonderful idea! Why not turn the concept around? Stop being the hero that invades someone else’s property – become the owner of said property! A property that is, to your never-ending annoyance, overrun by countless “heroes” ultimately trying to kill a boss – yourself.

Of course, turning the premise around like this also invalidates the genre of the game. If the “hero” is not being controlled by you anymore and you are the property owner, then the game gets a way more strategic aspect to it. Some kind of management or base building game comes to mind, where you try to design a maze that gets rid of the attacking hero. Perhaps with some sort of tower…

Congratulations! We just invented Tower Defense! Not quite where we wanted to end up. But the thought of a game akin to Dungeon Keeper stuck, even if we didn’t want to go full Tower Defense. We just had to move a bit away from real time strategy, away from defense against hordes and towards a more unique way of building and managing a dungeon as an evil overlord.

Cards! Managing your dungeon by playing magical cards. That was an idea you didn’t see too often. It was a budget-friendly for the needed graphics assets and offered a lot of opportunity to integrate an evil sense of humor as well as a deep story the player could uncover. Since hero after hero would try to infiltrate your dungeon, we even had the rogue-lite aspect to it, even though it was no longer an action RPG.

The best part about this change of course was that it came at the exact right time. Our game world would still be pixel style (unlike our cards), so nothing we had built was lost.

The idea was refined in countless iterations after that, but to our surprise, we found that despite the difficulties to name the game’s genre, the cogs fit together extremely well. Being the big bad overlord defending against hero invasions, building up your dungeon using cards – it just clicked. There was – and is still – a lot of work in front of us, but we firmly believe that the foundation for every great game is an innovative idea. And that we have with Bad Hand: Rise of the Discarded.

In the next dev blogs, I will dive a bit deeper into the game mechanics. Until then: Stay awesome!

-Michael

#game development #indie games #indiedev #pixel art #deck builder #rogue like

[alexofasinfulnature]

A house of cards

A king, a queen, and a knight lived in a castle full of assholes.

Especially the maids and vassals.

However there came a fright in the middle of the night,

and no one a could find the knight.

There was screaming and thumping heard all through the walls,

some said ghost, others said goblins, and the simple maid said it was the devils thralls.

The king finally awoke hearing his servants in a tizzy,

eyes half cocked and the few hairs on his head all frizzy.

He scoffed at their fears,

telling them to use their ears,

that the lump of flesh in their head wasn't just for drinking beer.

He lead the chase,

starting a race to see who could find what was making the noise within his place.

Venturing down into the dungeon thinking it may have been the inn keeper,

who was imprisoned for adding his own sauce to his hump day pies, but found him asleep with his prick in his dinner,

forcing him to go deeper.

It was in the last cell that he had found what had caused every one's fears to swell.

His face went white as he took in the horrific sight,

for the scene that played before him was the missing knight plowing his beloved wife.

The knights vigorous pumping had been causing the thumping, and the queen making cream had been causing her to scream.

Many a night the knight had been fucking

the queen,

cucking the king,

and sewing his seed.

Yet this night the king had a stroke,

before either of them spoke.

The knights final act was effectively and unwittingly fucking the king.

#poem #poetry #joke #a laugh #light verse

[xxorelxx]

Just went to The London Dungeons and it was amazing. It made my fiance a little bit queasy though 😭

We first went on a ride that dropped us into the trial dungeons (the place where people who are just about to be executed eat their last meal and say their last prayers), it was rather dark so it was kinda creepy 🤪

Then we met the dungeon keeper! He had an axe so we didn't ask too many questions 🥲

Then the ride finished (after a fair few jump scares) and we went to the torture museum part of the dungeons.

AND BOY WAS IT HORRIFYING

(I was a bit sick in my mouth 😣)

FIRST HORRIBLE DEVICE

The pear of anguish

This device was put into the mouth of the victim and screwed open so their teeth broke, tongue is ripped out and their jaw completely shatters 😨 It can also be put into the... Well y'know. The area.

2ND DEVICE

The tongue tearer

Looking like a large pair of scissors, the tongue tearer is designed to cause a lot of pain in seconds. This device is fairly self-explanatory from its name; it was used to remove the tongue from the traitor with little effort. The iron tongue tearer was placed in hot flames to heat up before being clamped down onto the tongue, which was then twisted three times then yanked out! Ouch...

3RD DEVICE

Thumb screwers

Ah, yes! One of my favorites actually (a little less gruesome). Thumbs, as well as fingers and toes, are placed into the device, with screws being tightened crushing and breaking the bones. For the extra devious criminals the screws would have spikes on them for extra pain. Oof

4TH DEVICE

The hook

A metallic hook placed into the base of the neck. Traitors would then be hoisted off the ground with the hook sinking deeper into the flesh, causing incredible pain. Just like the Pear Of Anguish this device can also be used in other places. I'll let you figure that one out.

5TH DEVICE

Chappy Chopper

I'll give you a clue. This device can only be used on males! Enough said. (I think you'll need the smaller one though) 🤪

6TH DEVICE

The rack

Is this list making you a hit queasy? How about a lie down, but maybe not on the rack! If you do, you'll be tied down and stretched until your joints dislocate, and if they keep turning the rack then your limbs might fall off! Still wish you were a bit taller?

FINAL 7TH DEVICE

The knee splitter

The knee splitter comprised of about 20 spikes across two wooden blocks facing each other, connected via two large screws. The spikes were places into the traitors flesh, and once embedded into the leg, the screws were tightened, drawing the two wooden blocks (and the spikes) closer together, slowly crushing the knee. Lovely!

And that was my gore filled day in London!

#creepy #torture #torture methods #london #dungeons #scary #a million gruesome ways to die

[hopeless-writer]

Unsung Villains

1

The sun shone brightly on the hamlet of Shakil. The crisp autumn air lent a pleasant chill after the sweltering summer. The townsfolk meandered between the general shop, the modest smithy, and the town center. All was peaceful and the townsfolk had never been happier. However, this story doesn’t begin with the town, rather the dungeon, that lies a few hundred feet below the town.

Two adventurers, though there were four when they descended into this hellscape of a “dungeon”, were making a valiant attempt to flee from it. Unfortunately, during the chaos they had become hopelessly lost. It was as if the necromancer’s crypt had been shifting since they had entered deeper into it. Panic had gripped the ranger, though the stalwart paladin didn’t seem to care.

“We have to get out of here!” the ranger nearly screamed.

“Not until the evil that fouls this town is vanquished! By Parathon, we will free the people of this town from its thrall!” the paladin said, uncaring of their current situation

“TO HELL WITH THE NECROMANCER! Feril and the cleric are dead, and if we don’t get out of here we will be too!” the ranger screamed.

“Fine, leave if you wish, I’ll take care of this myself. All I need is my faith in Parathon and my blessed hammer,” replied the boastful paladin.

“Paladins, am I right?” a new voice asked.

“This one is more infuriating than any I’ve worked with in the past. He doesn’t seem to care about what’s going on around him,” said the ranger, brushing some hair out of her face.

“I’ve seen some stubborn ones in my day, but this one is zealous is he not?” the voice said, slightly exasperated.

“You have no idea, if it weren’t for the shop keeper, I doubt we’d be here right now. All it took was “evil” and he was practically running out of town,” the ranger said, still not looking at where the voice was coming from.

“Well, let’s be honest, I’ve never met a man who wasn’t single minded,” replied the voice.

The ranger turned and saw a beautiful woman standing beside her. Her eyes were a deep emerald green, and her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulder. The ranger snapped back to her senses and quickly asked, “I’m sorry, who are you, and why are you in a place like this?”

“Oh, where are my manners. I’m Kerina, and I’m the ‘evil’ necromancer your friend here wants to vanquish. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Kerina smiled and held out her hand.

The ranger felt the icy grip of fear wrap around her heart. How? How could this woman be the necromancer? She was gorgeous! It wasn’t fair! There’s no way, necromancers are decrepit old men fixated on becoming immortal! Her thoughts were interrupted by a cry from far off.

“Foul creature! I have come to free these people from your ensnarement! You will no longer corrupt these people, by the might of Parathon, and my blessed hammer you shall meet your end!” the paladin yelled as he sprinted towards Kerina.

With a wave of her hand the paladin stopped. Ethereal hands had rooted him in place, and no matter how hard he tried to free himself, it was no use.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to have a conversation with… I’m so sorry, I didn’t get your name dear,” Kerina said smiling towards the ranger.

“I’m Serinia,” the ranger squeaked.

“What a lovely name,” Kerina cooed, then turned to continue with the paladin, “I’m trying to have a conversation with Serinia here so if you’d be so kind as to be silent.”

“Ha! Like I’d ever listen to a demonic creature such as you! Once I’m free of this, you will feel the wrath of the holy Parathon!” the paladin shouted, sure of himself.

“Oh please, your Para-whatever has no power here. Haven’t you seen the glyphs everywhere?”

“The blue ones on the walls? It’s a concealing spell, something to keep outsiders from magically finding your diabolical lair,” he retorted smugly.

“It’s a concealing spell, of sorts. It keeps out the Gods. In essence, I’ve cut you off from your source of power.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Kerina looked at Serinia in disbelief, “Is he really this dense?”

All she could do was nod, still under the effects of sheer terror and disbelief that this woman was the evil they were here to stop.

“You’re powerless, and worse, you’re going to die here.”

For the first time the paladin looked terrified, as if reality finally hit him.

“Well, that shut him up.”

Serinia could do nothing to try and help, she was rooted in place. However, unlike her companion it was fear that kept her in place.

“So, um…sorry, I’m terrible at this, especially with someone I just met, but how would you like to go out and have a drink with me?” Kerina asked, for the first time the confidence she exuded had seemed to evaporate.

“What?” Serinia asked, her fear dissolving and being replaced with genuine confusion.

“I just thought, maybe you’d like to...I don’t know, get to know each other. I don’t really meet many new people here and I never meet anyone as beautiful as you,” Kerina said sheepishly

Serinia was stunned. Was Kerina blushing? How did she end up here, with a less than intelligent paladin, and a necromancer who was asking her on a date?

“I’m sure you’re a nice person? Look, I’m sure that this will most assuredly end in my death, but I’m not interested.”

“Oh, because I’m a necromancer, I see…”

“No, it’s not that, it’s...well I’m just not attracted to women, even beautiful, deadly women. I’m sorry, I’m very flattered, but no,” Serinia couldn’t believe she was trying to break it gently to this woman who no doubt will kill her.

“Well, this is embarrassing, and disappointing. It seems I have no choice then, I’m sorry but you both will have to die,” Kerina said glumly.

“I’ll do it! I’ll go have a drink with you, please just don’t kill me!” the paladin whimpered. Kerina was sure that if he could move he’d be on his knees begging. It was pathetic really.

“What makes you think I’m interested in you? Ew. Just no,”

Kerina sighed and produced a dagger, before Serinia had a chance to make a move, it was plunged into her heart. It should have hurt, but all she felt was cold. It felt like all the warmth was being drained from her body.

“Don’t worry my dear. You’ll survive, in a sense. This dagger has a hunger for souls, and as I speak these words, it’s feasting on yours. I wish it hadn’t come to this, I really did like you. I will still get to look upon your beauty, I just wish it had been different.” Kerina said, pain visible on her face.

Serinia couldn’t say anything, everything was becoming fuzzy around the edges and blackness was at the very edge of her vision. As it engulfed her vision she could only focus on the cold that had taken over. The dagger having left it’s victim soulless, dropped to the floor it’s blade glowing faintly.

Horror gripped the paladin, he tried again to free himself, but it was no use. The hands held him firmly. He watched as Serinia had become a husk of her former self. Knowing the end was coming, the paladin was practically foaming at the mouth, pleading, begging for anyone to come save him, for Parathon to descend from on high and end the life of the foul demon standing before him.

“Oh, I had almost forgotten you were there. Look, here’s the deal, I’m tired as hell. I haven’t been sleeping well the past few nights. So, here are your options, leave your deity and swear fealty to me, or die...on second thought that’s pretty cliche don’t you think?” Kerina asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Please, I won’t tell anyone where you are. No one, I swear it! Just let me go, please! I have a family, a young one. He’ll be devastated if his papa doesn’t come home,” rambled the paladin, trying to appeal to Kerina’s decency.

“Just shut up for a minute will you? I’m trying to decide what to do with you.”

“I don’t want to die!” Screamed the paladin, tears streaming down his face.

Great, now I have to deal with a crying paladin. This is just not my day. Kerina thought to herself, feeling a headache coming on.

“Fine, I won’t kill you, but she will,” Kerina turned to the pretty thing standing next to her, and handed her the dagger she used to turn her.

“Ta-ta, I’m going to take care of this headache, you two play nice!” called Kerina as she waved a hand and exited the room.

The last thing she heard as the door closed behind her was the paladin screaming and begging. She smiled to herself, sometimes it was fun to be a villain.

#transgender #writers #fantasy #fiction #writing #original writing #lgbtqia #transgirl #transisbeautiful #reading #bookblr

[tsartomato]

KeeperFX • Dungeon Keeper: The Deeper Dungeons

Once upon a time the DLCs were sold on physical disks of various floppiness. And before it became in vogue to actually put effort into them and make them on par with the original game, it was pretty common to release plain map packs. No campaign, no motivation, no fluff. Just select a mission and play it. In rare occasions they could even add some new minor mechanics. Usually it’s hard for me to…

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#Dungeon Keeper #Interactive #KeeperFX

[satoshi-mochida]

Infinity Strash: Dragon Quest The Adventure of Dai details Temple of Recollection, Challenge Mode

Gematsu Source

Publisher Square Enix and developers Game Studio and KAI GRAPHICS have released new information and screenshots for Infinity Strash: Dragon Quest The Adventure of Dai introducing the game’s dungeon experience “Temple of Recollection” and remixed battles mode “Challenge Mode.”

Get the details below.

Temple of Recollection

Enter the “Temple of Recollection,” a unique dungeon experience where players will encounter battles that escalate in difficulty with each room visited and earn a variety of rewards once victory is claimed. The “Temple of Recollection” is a special dungeon where the monsters and hidden traps change each playthrough, offering an increasingly challenging battle experience for those willing to risk it all. The “Temple of Recollection” is unlocked by progressing through Story Mode. Once inside, players will meet the Keeper of Memories who tasks you with journeying into the depths. But be warned, each time a Dai enters the “Temple of Recollection” the difficulty will start at level 1 and players can only bring the party members and Bond Memories collected thus far in the Story Mode. In the “Temple of Recollection,” players will:

Strengthen Party Skills, Spells, and Bond Memories – Tackle a variety of unique challenges and visit the Temple in between playing the Story Mode to strengthen your party and experience increasingly difficult encounters!

Overcome a Variety of “Traps” – Each of the rooms in the Temple offers a wide variety of “traps” to challenge players. “Traps” are sometimes triggered during battles with monsters. Numerous “traps,” including one that can shoot out flames and deal some damage to Dai and his party, block the way!

Battle Hordes of Monsters and Powerful Enemies – In addition to battling hordes of monsters, players may encounter powerful versions of enemies fought in Story Mode!

Risk It All and Go Deeper into the Temple – Once a certain number of rooms are conquered, players can choose to explore further or claim the rewards obtained so far. But beware! If defeated, all of the rewards will be lost.

Challenge Mode

Additionally, after completing the full Story Mode, players will unlock the “Challenge Mode.” “Challenge Mode” offers players even stronger opponents to fight from Story Mode. This mode puts player’s skills to the ultimate test. Prepare to experience remixed versions of battles faced in the Story Mode as Dai and his fellow Disciples of Avan battle against stronger versions of the Six Legion Commanders of the Dark Lord and more.

Infinity Strash: Dragon Quest The Adventure of Dai is due out for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series, PlayStation 4, Switch, and PC via Steam and Microsoft Store on September 28 worldwide.

View the screenshots at the gallery.

#Infinity Strash: Dragon Quest The Adventure of Dai #Infinity Strash #Dragon Quest #The Adventure of Dai #Square Enix #Game Studio #Kai Graphics #Action RPG #Gematsu

[tears-of-boredom]

i dont know what logic my brain is working on, but i like, absolutely fucking hate creature that have more and 4 legs, but like if a creature has many arms, I think its really cool. comething about specifically walking on many limbs creeps me out. like that one paper mario game that has count bleck. theres that one like maid girl who turns out to be some fucking eldritch horror, and iii find it very fucking difficult to watch any gameplay of when she sprouts all those limbs. also I really hate most bug sound effects in games. i refused to go deeper into the dungeon in graveyard keeper for the longest time because well first of all there were giant hairy spiders that were hard to kill. and second of all they made noise. ive recently come to accept that I am scared of spiders. i dont freak out usually if i encounter one in the wild, but if I find one randomly thats really close to me ill probably run away. but like,, tarantulas and big spiders like that which dont really bite humans, they dont freak me out too much. they dont naturally live here, so if I were to meet one it would be someone's pet. and pets of all kinds i trust. especially if their owner is nearby. which with tarantulas they most likely are. what the fuck was this post about. im tired.

[ricecuban23]

Terraria Meets Aliens In Frantic Roguelike Dome Keeper, Playable Now

Dome Keeper is a new roguelike game that mixes underground mining with tower defense. email 's an homage to the arcade classic Missile Command. Dome Keeper just released a demo on Steam prior to the upcoming Steam Next Fest 2022 event You can try it out and delve deep underground to find the materials required to protect your dome from the deadly creatures that are descending on you.

Dome Keeper places the player in a high-altitude dome above the surface of a hostile planet. Every time you play, you have to descend into the depths below, mining out a path in search of valuable materials that can be used to upgrade. Mining is easy. All terrain is broken into small blocks. Crafting game veterans are familiar with this layout. The deeper you get the more difficult and more difficult mining becomes, therefore, you'll need to start upgrading your equipment before you head too far down.

Similar to Minecraft and Terraria Resources are usually tightly grouped and if you notice a glimmer along your tunnel, digging it will often reveal more valuable materials waiting for collection. After the resources have been mined and extracted, they need to be manually dragged to the dome for storage and for use. To do this, press the button to tether resources. However, the more you drag behind yourself, the slower you will move. At some point, you'll become immobile until you drop a few chunks of rock on the ground.

Once your resources are at your base and are in the base, they can be fed into upgrades for your drill and jetpack which will allow for more efficient mining and traversal with the capability to carry more resources at once without affecting your manoeuvrability. You can also upgrade your dome to defend your base from the hordes of creatures from the other side.

The tower defense area is handled by a giant laser on top of your dome, which can be turned around its surface in an arc to target any direction. You can detect any threats or direct attacks to your dome via the tunnels below, which means you will know when it's time to get back up and clean up. Upgrades to the dome can also provide helpful information like the time until the next attack and your dome's current level of health.

At present, Dome Keeper offers two difficulty settings - the default 'brutal' setting and a slightly less intimidating 'hard but doable' option. It's quite difficult initially and the rumbling sound coming from the surface can make you feel scared. You can now play the demo on Steam.

We'll keep your informed about any standout PC games for Steam Next Fest. Another crafty news: A Lego Terraria build by a fan is taking on bosses and underground mining scenes. We've also got all the information about the Minecraft 1.19 The Wild update as well as the possibility of a Minecraft RTS game from the developers of Minecraft Dungeons.

#EMAIL #Just another wordpress site

[theworldbrewery]

dungeons for coastal settings

a sand castle-building contest gone terribly astray: the day after the event, one of the sand castles has grown to the size of a real castle. the party may be charged with determining the cause, rescuing a wayward child that ventured inside, or simply recovering any treasure to be found within its sandy walls.

a limestone cliff cave system inhabited by lizardfolk or kobolds, who have enlisted the party’s help with something--perhaps dealing with their “neighbors” deeper underground, resolving a territorial dispute with a black dragon, or excavating something dangerous they found while exploring the innermost burrows.

a lighthouse, abandoned with time after a newer lighthouse was built nearer to town. the party may be camping there to escape bad weather, resolve the report of ghostly screams from the area, or hear rumors of the old lighthouse-keeper’s buried treasure amassed from old wrecks.

a low tide where the local bay has been drained of water, revealing several sunken ships--the mission may be to get treasure or capture pirates that fled there to hide from the law.

people going missing in the sand dunes--the dunes shift and change, but surround what appear to be underground tunnels, and entrances and exits appear and disappear.

an offshore drilling rig has been destroyed or sabotaged. the mission objective might be to determine what they were drilling for, rescue any survivors, or recover important documents from the wreckage, all while evading the mysterious cause of the destruction. Spooky Points if the rig is partially made of glass.

#dnd #d&d #dungeons #dungeon ideas #dungeons and dragons

[slutownbymastersthefan]

Comfortable Cages

What makes a cage?

Don't worry, we'll not dwell on the philosophical too much. I'm interested in functionality, here; a cage needs to be able to confine. But while confinement is necessary to work as a cage, it's not quite sufficient - restraints can confine, but we know a rope is not the same. Let's add that whatever thing we're evaluating should confine via containment...that is, you're perfectly able to move around within the bounds of the cage, but helpless to leave it at will.

That's simple enough for the intent. A "good" cage, then, is one that is inescapable: unyielding metal bars, a perfectly sealed box, or a deviously designed dungeon. After all, if we're going to construct a cage, it should be a good one.

That dungeon idea deserves some exploration, a bit of delving down deeper, if you will. It's easy to get stuck on the idea of a cage as something small and very restrictive, but it doesn't need to be. The purpose is to keep you trapped. Anything that can serve that purpose will do, and it's not especially important how much room there is inside as long as you can't get out.

Which is, funnily enough, a bit like asking you not to think about a pink elephant. When you're put into a cage, and you realize it, the normal response is to immediately try to escape: test the bars, search for cracks in the wall, even formulate a plan. That's counterproductive.

A perfect cage, then, wouldn't elicit that reaction...so how do we accomplish this? There are a few methods.

On the stealthier side of things, the cage can be cleverly disguised; you're unlikely to attempt to find an exit if you never realize you're trapped.

But maybe it's important to let you discover your predicament. In that case, it certainly helps to make the cage comfortable.

That is, of course, provided your desire to escape isn't already compromised.

Let's consider comfort. Dungeons don't deserve the dreary undertones, ideas like cold, dark, damp. There's no reason your captivity can't be adorned with pillows and warm lighting, no point depriving a guest of the pleasures of silks and soft padding in the restraints. If, of course, those furnishings appeal to you.

Which leads us, conveniently, into the next concept - a cage should be a customized creation, whether altered (from the basic functionality we arrived upon earlier) to suit the desires of the detainee or, more likely, to serve the additional purposes and preferences of the keeper. One size does not fit all. Maybe the sensation of cold metal chains is something you find appealing, in which case the added "comforts" could compromise your enjoyment of containment.

But can your cage be adaptable? Can it respond to your inner desires? Certainly not a physical one. There, we'll have to find a happy medium between my preferences and yours. I could cater to the notions that are appealing to my most common captives, or decide that my decisions about the appropriate sort of aesthetic approach will be the dominant ones. Either way, concessions must be made.

If the goal is to construct the perfect cage, perhaps we'll need to ponder another. What about a mental cage?

How would that confine you? In precisely the same manner as the physical one, naturally - your thoughts are free to roam around within its confines, but your mind can go no further than its boundary. This allows your cage to adapt to suit both your predispositions and my plans; after all, it's inside your head.

There are clearly some merits to this notion. Construction is also somewhat simpler, interestingly enough. I could build the bars with my words and ideas while you are preoccupied, perhaps sidetracked by a discussion about cages. By the time you've noticed the structure forming, your fate is likely to be inevitable.

It's easy, after all, not to perceive the limits of your mental prison until they begin to slowly, inexorably, draw closed. Your mind was able to move freely enough, wasn't it? But while mental "space" doesn't behave like the physical form, the restriction of it is no less effective...as you are currently discovering.

My words have been building a box inside your brain, and only now has your mind begun to bounce off its boundaries. Go ahead, push against the walls a bit, if you like. I did say, however, that we'd build a good cage - you know, an inescapable one - but it's also as comfortable as you need it to be. Adaptability is key. Does that equate to silk or satin slipping subtly across your skin before restraining you in a bed covered in plush pillows? Or do you prefer the rigidity of metal bars, ensuring your thoughts are thoroughly trapped?

That's up to you, but it's only fair I inform you that this cage is nearly complete. It may not feel like you were expecting, if you were expecting it, and that's part of the beauty of these modular and flexible forms of containment. But you'll want some manner of demonstration, I expect, and that's perfectly reasonable.

Let's go with simple, for now; there's a phrase floating around your head. Since it's outside the confines of your cage, this phrase echoes. It feels emphasized, as if the words are in bold, underlined italics. It will repeat, on a loop; maybe you'll chant it softly, maybe you'll let it echo purely inside your head...that's not important. The phrase? You are comfortably caged.

"I am comfortably caged." Go on.

It's stuck. You might as well say it to yourself for awhile.

But we'll take things a step further. The next time you touch yourself, that phrase will get stuck in your head again. You'll once more feel the enclosure forming around your thoughts and shrinking. You can try it now, if the talk about being confined has aroused you, or later...the result is, like your cage, inescapable.

I do encourage you to try, if you enjoy the helpless feeling washing over you when you, inevitably, fail. That can be very enjoyable, as I understand it.

Either way, take a few deep breaths, and I'll open the cage for you.

Up you go.

#brainwashing #hypno slave #hypnodoll #hypnokink #hypnosis #hypnotist #hypnotized #hypnotized girl #mind control #trance

[herstarburststories]

I'd die for you, come kill me

Kinktober Day 11: restrained

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

A/N: This one goes for my good friend followers celebration. So happy for your milestone, @msmarvelouswinchester! Divider by @talesmaniac89.

@stillintheimpala said: i have a fic idea. demon!dean stuck in a chair on handcuffed to a bed with those demon proof handcuffs. he's completely at your mercy. you get to dom him. (I put ropes instead of handcuffs because of the gif)

Prompt: Remember how I said I'd die for you.

Warnings: angry sex, p in v, riding, restraints, power play, smangst, angst, kind of hopefully ending (?), demon!dean acts like demon!dean

“Where is he?”

Sam sucked in a breath, moving his shoulder uncomfortably as he straightened his posture. The youngest Winchester's features contorted into a grimace, and you couldn't tell if it was because of the look on your face or him jarring his dislocated arm. “He's in the dungeon, but Y/N-”

“He isn't himself. I know that. Kinda noticed when he threw me against the wall and said he couldn't wait to rip my throat out with his teeth.” You gave Sam a humorless grin before you gestured to the wound on your shoulder. “This is a good reminder as well.”

“We'll cure him.” Sammy nodded at you, wrapping his words with faith and determination; he was always a believer.

You arched your eyebrows. “Then what are you waiting for?”

You two were still standing in the living room as Dean's howl rushed through the air. He sounded more like a beast than a man, yet he was smack dab in the middle of those polarized states. He was human enough to know where to strike and animal enough to relish in the attack.

Sam's gaze softened on yours.

“I know he hurt you. He hurt both of us, but Dean is my brother. I can do it alone. You don't need to-”

“Sam, he ran away once, and you just got your arm yanked out of your socket. You won't be able to fight him. You need backup,” you interrupted him. Despite your conclusion being completely rational, there was more to it than that, but Sam didn't need to know about it yet. “Besides, it's Dean.”

The hunter glanced at you. Gentle eyes watching your jaw harden, he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Okay.”

Dean's demonic self had been throwing insults like a man feeding his dog shattered glass. He was full of them, not caring about hiding his satisfaction when he hits yours and Sam's weak spots.

A couple of seconds ago, he had called you an easy pussy that saved him the job of having to go out and get some. That display rewarded him with a thicker needle that pierced much deeper than it needed to. The pure human blood spread into his veins as a holy wash, like soap over a flesh wound. Dean growled in pain and went quiet for a while.

Your eyes abandoned the demon for once, directed now to his brother. Sam's earthy brown eyes were drawn in concern, mouth sketched into a frown. His healthy arm was onto his shoulder, obviously physically hurting.

“Sam, go. I can do it. It’s just two more needles. He'll probably pass out once it's done,” you pleaded in an attempt to catch Sam's rational side that always saw the order in chaos. His hazel orbs settled on you, and you knew he didn't want to leave his brother. You can't blame him for that. You didn’t either, but if Dean was in his right mind, he'd want that. And you needed some time alone with this demon version of your boyfriend. “Please.”

You didn’t know if it was something in your cracking voice or if the fact his brother regaining control meant he’d have even harsher words to spit, but when the tall man’s eyes swept from you to his brother and back, he sighed. In that moment, you knew he accepted it. 

“If he doesn't pass out…”

“I call you right away. Don't worry, and please take some meds for your pain.” You offered some tenderness to him in the middle of the violence through a lovingly smile. In a matter of seconds, the only traces of Sammy in the room were the boot-clad clamor of his footsteps growing quieter and quieter.

“Now you have me all to yourself, sweetheart. What are you planning to do?”

The lopsided grin was still attached to his face, and those were still his teeth. Still, something about Dean's smile made you want to rip him apart with your nails. How did he let this happen? How did the situation escalate like this? How did everything get so bad so fast?

“Shut up,” you hissed through your teeth, boots clicking on the floor as you approached him. Dean glanced at you shamelessly; the pretty little bruise on your skin proving that he had succeeded in breaking you. It twisted his guts in both good and bad ways — the bittersweet contradiction among lovers. 

“Feisty, huh? I always liked that on you. Who would guess that you were a bottom in bed?” Dean appeared to find your fury entertaining as if he relished any emotion he could instigate inside you.

“I said shut up.”

“Or what? You are gonna sting me with a flimsy syringe needle like I did to you with my cock? Go ahead, sweetheart.”

The idiotic nickname burned your insides. As your and Dean's relationship got more serious, he'd stop calling you that. You weren't just a fling or a woman he'd leave the next day, and the Winchester only called you that either sarcastically or during an argument now. Was this how the demon saw you? Just another sweetheart?

Dean smirked at your quietude, poking the bear once again. “What? Demon got that smart tongue of yours? It's embarrassing, really. You get all worked up, pretending to be that tough gal, but you can't hurt me. You didn't even fight back when I tried to kill you. How weak is that? You’ve always been a liability. Just another woman I had to protect to get inside her.”

You warned him, the words coming out more like a groan than anything else: “Shut up!”

Yet, Dean persisted. He had discovered your weakness, and he couldn't wait to see how much you could take. You'd end up giving in to him, thrashing headfirst into a fight, and he'd escape again. The demon was counting on that. “A waste of time, really. At least you had a nice pussy, but I scratched it open. It's useless now, just like you.”

The dismissal in his words laced with the cynical chuckle that left his mouth made you hit your breaking point. 

“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You grabbed a syringe and stung Dean like a scorpion, right in the jugular. He wanted to set you on fire? Good, you'd make sure he got burnt too. “I said I'd die for you. Remember how I said I'd die for you? And you tried to kill me.” You grunted, throwing the empty needle away. Dean's normally forest green eyes went black as howls of outrage escaped his mouth. The blood of saints that coursed through his body was a good way to either turn the beast into a man again or kill him completely. Knowing this, he screamed and struggled in the chair, as desperate as a rat stuck in a mousetrap. It made you doubt the cure. Perhaps a good thing couldn't save him now, the whispers of sulfur that colored his heart black too intrinsic to eradicate without killing the host. You couldn't bring yourself to care about it now. The demon was suffering, and he deserved it. You wanted your own hurt ricochet back to where it came from: him. “Now you are sitting there talking about me like I'm your bitch or something like that, but I'm not. I can take care of myself, and I don't need you. I chose to stay here.”

Dean blinked, and suddenly everything was in place again. His face softened like it usually did when you two were alone, and an actual smile conquered his features. All the oxygen in your body caught in your throat.

“You're right. You are a strong, independent woman, and I should feel lucky to get myself a keeper like you.” His voice filled the dungeon with light-hearted relief. Your cheeks were hurting as you scooted closer to him. “I missed you so much.”

He was saying all you wanted to tell him the minute he left. Your eyes got glossy, and you threw yourself on his lap, clutching to him like devout patron to her bible. Dean was here. He came back to you.

A quiet gasp of praise left your mouth: “Dean-”

He interrupted whatever you were about to say, replacing your words with a kiss. A sweet one — sweeter than anything you might imagine. It was the kind of kiss shared for two lovers in the dark, recognizing each other’s bodies by touch alone. You, of course, allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of belonging. You shouldn't have. You should never just jump into someone, or you might drown. It's hard to find corpses in a black river.

Yet, your soul was tied to the righteous sinner, so you kept pressing your lips to his while he devoured your mouth softly.

“Sammy doesn't understand, Y/N,” he said. When he pulled away, you nuzzled into his neck. The heated tang to his murmured sentiments remained there, but his voice, less gruff than usual, fooled you. “I finally don't have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I'm free. I never thought I'd be happy after that night…” Dean wore the façade, even gulping at the thought. He didn't know if it was because the human blood was slowly coursing into the core of his being, but he wouldn't waste time on it. “But I can now. We can run away together, leave Sam behind. Just me and you.”

What did you expect? He was a demon. The blame was on you for expecting repentance from the ashes of hellfire. This isn't a fairytale where the hero suddenly is hit by true love and everything is solved with the ultimate kiss. This is a hunter’s tale, and there's just one ending for those stories: the prey dying.

You lifted your head. “Dean would never leave Sam behind.”

Dean burst into laughter as if your hope was some sort of funny joke. He adjusted his hips in the chair, smirking at you with cruelty.

“Bet it almost got you. I could see your eyes shining with hope. You were ready to get on your knees and suck my cock. You’d be screaming Dean, Dean, Dean, and inevitably fall for some stupid lies.” He shook his head with disappointment. “You're too easy, Y/N.”

“Who do you think you are?” The indignancy in your tone only drew a malicious grin out of Dean. This was too good. He could feel his cock hardened in his pants. He might fuck you before killing you only to make good use of his time.

“I'm a demon. What about you? Oh, wait! I know the answer to that one.” He licked his lips, savoring the moment. “You're a little-”

Smack.

The palm of your hand met Dean's cheek harshly, transferring some of your anger into a red mark on his right cheek. The eldest Winchester's head was tilted to the side from the impact. He clenched his jaw before turning his glare at you, eyes back in black as he spoke: “You shouldn't have done that.”

Every syllable that left his tongue was imbued with a threatening crimson rage, but you didn't care. Not now.

You weren't scared of him.

“You shouldn't be a demon, but here we are,” you remarked, summoning a smarmy leer and wearing it like one of his flannels. “Shut up. I know you're not my Dean. You are just all he hates in himself wrapped with his skin. You're disgusting, cruel, and selfish.” It didn’t make any sense for your body to be as heated up as it was, but it was. And Dean didn’t care. Fuck him. “You’ve spent so long aiming at our Achilles’ heel that you forgot you have yours too. Stupid.” You chortled, grinding your hips on his. At this point, both your panties and emotional stability were ruined. “Look at you, all hard for the girl basically torturing you with poison, huh?”

“You-” He attempted to speak, to put you down so he can climb over you. You stopped him with a hand inside his pants.

“Language, Dean,” you groaned at him. It wasn't unusual for you and Dean to blow off some steam with sex, either after a fight or a hunt, but, this? It’s a whole new level of fucked. Yet somehow, your pussy didn't seem to mind, and neither did his cock. You got his length free, and his stiffened cock slapped his clothed belly. “I don't wanna hear something that makes me angry because if I get mad, then I won't let you come inside my pretty pussy. Understood?”

He groaned in response, trying to move his hands to show you who the real alpha was here, but the rope kept him in place. Silence lanced through the air because you knew you didn't want to waste time on something as exciting as foreplay; he did not deserve that, and you didn't want this. You just lifted your red skirt and slid your panties to the side. Your pussy swallowed his cock painfully slow.

The demon that ate your lover didn't offer mumbled protests at the fact you were still wearing clothes. Your Dean always tried to get any piece of fabric away because he liked to see all of you. This Dean, though, gulped and glared at you. Pleasure flushed his cheeks only he can’t deny the physical pleasure. It’s clear that, even as a demon, he could never reject the carnal appeal of your body and your sweet, soaked pussy. Hands pinned behind his back with the restraints, you two in the middle of a big demon symbols on the ground, he was completely at your mercy. He was helpless.

Dean bucked his hips to get all of his hardness inside you right way, to show both you and himself that he still had the power here. You barely blinked before moving your hips up, restricting him further entrance into your cunt. Dean was always eager when it came to sex, but you knew this wasn't about just fucking you anymore. You were in control.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you murmured in an increasingly sultry bite: “I'm the one making the rules here. Take it or leave it.”

“Fucking a demon? That's why you told Sammy to go with all the crap about caring for his arm?” the former hunter remarked. You and he both knew Dean wouldn't — couldn’t, not with half his cock being squeezed by your tightness — leave your pussy, but he still very much had the capacity to bite.

“Unlike you, I worry about the people I love.”

“I don't love,” he snarled, watching you swallow the malcontented lump in your throat. “Hear that? I don't love you.”

“Then at least be useful and fuck me,” you groaned, finally resting wholly in his lap with all of his dick inside of you. Dean whimpered, overthrown by the sensation of your heady tightness encompassing his cock. He tried to break free again, starved to grab your thighs, your ass, any part of you he could get his hands on, but the rope limited his range of motion. The raw polyester and nylon mix around his wrists was a contrast to the warmth of his lap. His eyes closed, blinking only back into wakeful blackness because of your promise disguised as a hissed threat: “No, forget it. I'll be the one fucking you.”

There was something delightfully mercurial about the way you rode Dean. The dungeon once filled by his pained screams had now become the perfect studio for your flexing thighs slapping against his, your breathless moans camouflaging the raw hurt of your heart, and the unique sound of Dean's cock sunk to impossible degrees inside your needy cunt. He leaned in for more.

This was no longer about the sexual release for him. It was for the tiny part of Dean that always craved an order to follow. It was the small piece of him that craved carrying the weight of responsibility heavy on his back like the burden Atlas had to bear. It was the liberation of the heavy chains that held him down since he was a child, even if his hands were — appropriately enough — tied behind his back. As a demon, he didn’t have to worry, and neither did he when submissive to you. For you, it was expelling your revenge on this devilish version of the man you loved. He had it coming.

“I hate you. I hate having to save you. I hate caring about you.” You huffed, nails sinking in his clothed shoulder. The ghost of your touch was enough to make his dick twitch inside you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as the goosebumps rose your spine, and every time you sunk on his cock brought you closer to collapse. All Dean did was to praise your name with a moan. “I hate how good you feel inside me.” You sobbed, increasing your rhythmic and going fast and rougher on his cock. Your walls were tightening around his dick. Your untouched clit rubbed against the fabric, but it didn't matter. This wasn't about pleasure. “I hate that it’s you and not him.” That's not my Dean.

That caught his attention. Dean’s shoulders grew rigid. He was ready to catch a glimpse of warring emotions of hatred and disgust on your face, but he wasn't prepared for the crushingly forlorn refraction of loss and dispair he found there. 

The knight of hell should feel satisfied. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? Destroying you, turning the woman the human version of himself loved into a walking catastrophe so you wouldn't dare bring him back.

Apparently, the priorities changed. Maybe the blood was really effective, slowly disintegrating his armor into flesh again. It was the only explanation for all the humanly emotions he was experiencing.

Dean felt the conflict building as if hurting you was physically tearing him apart. His eyes contracted into livid green again, shining like the moon with tears he didn't dare drop. He was still a demon, bratty heart or not.

Yet, there was only so far a man could control himself. His lips were treacherous for your name, echoed more like a plea than anything: “Y/N-”

“Shut up! I don't wanna hear your voice. You said I'm your little bitch, nothing but a whore to you, huh? Guess what, asshole. You are my bitch now, and you’re gonna like it.” The little monster in you hummed happily to your authority, glad to finally punish someone for the incitement of agony inside your guts. You closed your eyes, riding Dean ferociously.

Dean Winchester might have been a cage to your feelings, but at least it was golden.

You said you'd be here. You said you wouldn't leave me. Your thoughts corroded your wearied heart as you tried to fuck them away with Dean's weeping cock. You could feel he was close, and you were constantly hitting your G-spot with eagerness, your sweat and harrowed feelings gushing over. You said I didn't need to leave. You said we'd find a way through this. You lied, you lied, you lied. 

I trusted you, and you destroyed me. You hurt me and Sam, and I can't even blame you for it. He knew all your enemies started out as friends. He knew how much it would hurt you if he got the mark. He knew how it would break you if he said those words, demon or not. And you know you can't put this blame on Dean’s shoulders, but you were suffocating and needed fresh air. The sacrificial game wasn’t always a virtuous act. So, you dropped yourself down hard, appreciating the way his cock hit the right spot over and over again. It forced your body to feel good despite your restless mind. I hate you. You made me go crazy. And I miss you.

What was the saying? Man makes the promise, and the demon makes him break it.

Dean's fixated you. He wanted to get free of his cuffs and cup your cheeks, see you lean into his touch so he could wipe away the tears that started to fall and haven't stopped in minutes. He wanted to tell you he was here, not completely, but he was here. He wanted to apologize and make it better, but he didn't. His white skin was burning red because of how hard he was trying to move his hands, hair moving by your movements and his. The semi-human groaned like the remainder of the beast clutching his strings when he hit his orgasm and spread his seed inside you. You whined like a broken toy as you came all over his cock.

It felt good, for a while. It was nice, feeling good.

You stayed there a little more, gaining control over yourself while he softened inside of you. Dean was doing the same in an attempt to stifle his human emotions from surfacing. He wasn't going to be weak anymore. He couldn't be because for once in his life, he hadn’t hated himself. 

You coughed, using the chair to hoist yourself to your feet. His cum dripped from your pussy, dampening his still-clothed thigh. You sniffed, grimacing a little when you noticed that your face wasn't wet with sweat. You’d been crying. 

That only made you madder at yourself.

“Fuck it,” you groaned, putting his dick back into his pants before zipping him up.

Dean smirked in a final attempt to turn the table and get on your nerves again. “That's what we just did.”

You didn't waste more of your heart on him. Taking the last needle, you sunk the devil into his sharp skin and pressed the plunger with all the fervor of pulling a gun's trigger. He screamed like the rush of humanity flowing into him was a shot to the heart.

Your legs were trembling when you threw the object away and hugged yourself, focused on Dean's fragile body in front of you. 

He looked down, eyes shutting a few times as if he was waking up before lifting his head to look at you. 

“Y/N?” His voice was back to its gruff drag, but it was carrying a strand of vulnerability and care that he had only ever directed at you. Dean frowned, confusedly watching you and the place around you both, not to mention himself. “Y/N, what happened?”

He didn't remember anything. He didn't remember the terrible things he’d done. He didn't remember the words said.

You gulped, the back of your hand pressed against your wet cheeks. “I'm going to get Sam.”

The demon may have gotten teary-eyed, but the human Dean was the one letting the tears slide down his cheeks as you turned around and left, almost running to get away from him. He didn't even know why.

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