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vtscasefiles · 3 years

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Case File # 321-5

Trigger warning: blood, gore, violence, death, firearms, injury, rape mention

Case begun: 5/09/20**

Case Concluded: 5/11/20**

Case Locale: [REDACTED], Florida

Marked as Closed

I arrived in Florida, the humidity already fucking with my sinuses. How anyone can live in this swampy shithole I will never understand. But I was offered a job, and my bank account was practically beating me over the head with it’s need to be filled. The pay was too good to turn down, so I loaded up my gear and headed out.

What I wasn’t expecting was a fucking ghost pirate. I mean, of all things, how fucking cliché can you get? The client, Rosie [REDACTED], welcomed me with that famed “southern hospitality” that I’ve heard so much of.

“You the girl with the gun? I expected you to be bigger.”

Fuckin’ peachy. “Yes. I’m the girl with the gun. You got a haunting problem?” I replied, trying not to let my irritation get the better of me. I’m fucking 5′9″. I’m not that small. For fuck’s sake, I can bench two hundo with no problem. Why the --

[Editor’s note: this continues for fifteen minutes. For your convenience I have removed VT’s rant.]

After getting a brief rundown of the case, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Everything pointed to a simple haunting, it wasn’t something I was considering a challenge, or even something that’d take longer than a few hours.

After doing this job, you think you’ve seen just about all the SC* has to offer. My two best friends are a lich and a witch. Yes, they rhyme, shut up. Point being is that I have never seen a haunting manifest on such a massive scale. Usually it’s restrained to a building, or a patch of land, but this...the whole fucking coast line was haunted. It wasn’t even a Cluster**, it was one. Singular. Spirit.

My first day, as the usual, was spent at the library. The spirit in question, one Captain Fresni, was an infamous pirate in the seventeen hundreds. Played a role in the American Revolution, albeit a small one. According to the books I’d found (mostly useless, but I did manage to glean some insight), his ship The Crooked Jess, was riddled with canon fire by the British. Captain Fresni, a violent fighter if ever there was one, realized there was no way out...lit every barrel of gunpowder he had on board and rammed his ship into the oncoming fleet. The following explosion wiped out three ships, packed with soldiers and set fire to another six.

I was impressed. If the spirit was Captain Fresni, as Rose claimed, then it could simply be a case of the body dying so suddenly and violently that the spirit didn’t realize he was dead. There was one passage that stood out, I won’t repeat it due to it being hella long, but in summation it stated that near the southern tip of Florida there was a hidden cove that served as the pirate captain’s base. Might as well start there.

It was around 9pm on the tenth before I even stepped foot in the cove. Immediately, the air changed. Despite it being disgustingly humid, the air turned frigid and dry. I walked up and down the coast to find a spot that wasn’t freezing, but to no avail. The whole place was a spook zone. We’re talking a good three hundred acres of land completely under the spirit’s influence. Even by a Cluster’s standards, that’s a massive area.

This area was mostly undisturbed, being a historical site. Being in the profession I am, meant that didn’t mean a roasty pile of dogshit. If I got caught disturbing anything here, it only meant one thing: prosecution, if not a bullet through my head. I’m aware of what my ethnic background means; prejudice, racism, outright hate. Hell, it’s dangerous to drive, let alone stand somewhere that I shouldn’t. So I try to be subtle. Try not to pack too much ordinance. Today I only had my duffel bag full of Elinor’s*** special ammo. I’d say it “kills” ghosts, but you can’t kill a spirit. You can however, force it to reconcile with it’s past.

The worst part about this job was I was going to wind up in the water. I hate swimming. Forget what chlorine does to the dye in my hair (red. Blood red. Always.), but just the thought of driving across the country with my clothes soaked in salty water was already putting my teeth on edge. Looks like I’d be hitting a thrift shop on the way home.

I dropped my duffel bag on the beach and sat in the sand next to it, pulling off my dad’s old combat jacket and stowing it inside. I did a quick inventory. I hadn’t brought anything major. Salt. Blessed water (courtesy of Ramona****). A black beeswax candle and, my trusty companion, Peace.

Peace is the name I’ve given to my custom-made revolver. All together, the setup weighs about three pounds. Each part bears a custom engraving that’ll combat just about any supernatural force...even so, there are some things that Peace can’t solve...even with the right ammo. But I had one solution sitting in the backseat of my car: a can of kerosene. If bullets don’t solve the problem, a liberal application of fire will.

The time was midnight, the opening of the “Witching Hour”. I had until 3am to get something. Anything. The spirit wasn’t answering to any of the usual callouts (their name, questions, requests for an audience), so I settled in on the beach to doze. Wasn’t much else to do.

Mother fucker, I wish I hadn’t.

When I woke up, it was to the freezing cold iron around my wrists. The bob and weave that told me I was on the sea. The air smelled of something...something that every fucking time I smell it, I almost lose my lunch.

Corpses.

The deck outside my cell was slick with blood and viscera. I’ve seen my share of gore, don’t get me wrong, but this was a massacre. What was worse...it looked (and smelled) fresh. The good captain had been busy, it’d seemed. What began as a simple haunting was quickly turning into something more sinister. Rosie hadn’t mentioned that the spirit was violent...though I should have assumed, given the amount posted on the job. Even still, this was...a little more than I’d prepared for.

But first there was the matter of the shackles on my wrists.

Lockpicking is an artform that every PE invests time in learning. But that’s usually deadbolts or doors made post 1970. The manacles on my wrists (though they looked brand new) were easily something seen in the eighteenth century. There was even a maker’s mark next to one of the keyholes. I’ll spare you the details on how I got out, but my thumbs ache to all hell.

The second I laid hands on the bars to my cell, they swung open...I’d never been locked in. This worried me. The spirit wanted me free...the manacles were just a precaution. Each step I made was met with the squishy splort of combat boot on viscera. I took my time, as I didn’t relish the thought of slipping and falling into the mess beneath my boots. Proud to say that I didn’t fall. Not once.

[Editor’s note: judging by the stains on VT’s clothes, she fell.]

As far as I could tell, I was on the lowest deck. The stairway didn’t lead up into the fresh air of day, but rather into what I assumed was a galley. Tables and benches had been scattered, and cooking implements rusted on their hooks. Dangling from one of those hooks was my firearms...just waiting for me.

I expected a trap, I anticipated the trap. By that I mean I picked up a piece of busted bench and hurled it at my gun. It fell off the hook with a loud clatter which had me willing myself to fade into the shadows. Nothing. Nothing but the creak and groan of the ship.

Well, I say nothing, but I distinctly heard laughter from the top deck. Feminine, bright laughter. I picked my gun up off the floor, holstered it and climbed the stairs.

There was no ghost crew, as I’d anticipated...but at the helm was a sight that still gives my heart a jolt. It’s no secret that I’m gay. I love women. But what I saw at the helm...fuck me, sideways. She was tall. 6′6″ if she was an inch. Her raven hair captured the moonlight and practically sucked it in. Her breasts were bared to the wind, heavy tattoos that seemed to glow covered just about every inch of bared flesh. I’d have thought her living if not for one thing: her eyes. Pitch black like the void.

“Ahoy, mate.” she purred, setting my teeth to clench. “Found you on my little hideaway, snoozin’ like an infant. Come to join Captain Fresni’s crew, little pet?”

“I ain’t your pet.” I snapped, glowering up at the spirit. “You’ve been killing people, Captain...and everything I’ve read says that you’re a man. Are you actually Captain Fresni, or is that just some title you picked up?”

“Funny how men’ll give the most vicious fighters a cock in death that they never had in life, hm?” the pirate snickered. I took notice then that her arms were like two thick pythons that, any other time, I’d like to see just how much weight they could hold. “I offered my services to old Georgie and he thought me funny. At least until I broke his nose.”

“Georgie? As in Washington?”

“Ye know of him? Interesting. He refusing the afterlife, too?”

Everything I’d assumed about this spirit was wrong. Captain Fresni wasn’t a man, for one. Not to mention she knew very well that she was dead. That still didn’t answer the most pertinent question on my mind. “The bodies...or what’s left of them. Was that you?”

“Aye.” she smiled, wickedly, but offered no further explanation. I was being baited.

“Can I ask why?”

“Ye just did.” a hard spin of the wheel almost sent me tumbling. “But I suppose I can oblige a pretty little thing like you.” I fucking hate being demeaned. And all attraction for this undead bitch was flying out the window faster than you could say “eat my ass”.

I can’t remember most of her explanation. Looking back, now...it’s like the whole of that night is just a drunken fever dream. What stands out to me is her reasoning. “I only murder the dregs, girlie. Rapists, mostly. Kidnappers. Violence done to women is met with brutal retaliation. It’s the simplest way to clean up this world, savvy?”

Oh, I was savvy. Quite savvy. If anything, I agreed with her and her method. Trash like that shouldn’t be allowed to breathe, let alone exist. “If that’s all you’re doing, Cap, then I see no reason we shouldn’t go our separate ways. You have your work and I have mine.”

“Aye? And just what is your work, lovely?” I didn’t detect any further demeaning playfulness...only curiosity.

“I’m a PE. A Paranormal Eliminator. Usually, I’d have to ask or make you pass on, but as it stands...I think we can say live and let live. Well...live and let un-live.” she’d laughed at that. A warm sound that had my guts twisting around my stomach like some sort of horny serpent.

“So, you came out all this way to end the dread Captain Fresni...only to find a kindred spirit, is that what I’m hearing?” she asked, grinning like the Cheshire Cat with a Glasgow grin. “And now you want to leave, just like that. Don’t a get a kiss or a nice romp? I think I’m owed something after all. I didn’t kill you for trespassing.”

That raised my hackles. Again, this pillar of muscle was underestimating me. What I’d fought, what I’d killed. For fuck’s sake, I’ve killed enough Wendigos to put half the men in my profession to shame. There was that weird case where the woman who hired me was fucking the Wendigo, but...that’s another story for another time.

[Editor’s Note: We’ve never discussed the Wendigo-coitus case. I sincerely want to hear it.]

“Fuck you. You got the drop on me, like a coward.” I regretted the words the instant they left my mouth. I was on her ship and at her mercy. She could sink this ship and I had no idea which way shore was...let alone the hazards that went with swimming in open water.

Instead she’d only laughed. “Little girl, I’m a pirate. I’ve no intent to fight head on when I can sneak up on someone. Honor is a man’s game. It’s what gets them killed, more often than not.” Again, I agreed. I’d put enough bullets in the back of a head to know that stealth is preferable than a face-to-face fight.

“Look, I lost my temper. Can we just...end this and I can go home? We both agree on your method, and I see no reason to stop what you’re doing. Sure, the “authority” of the living world won’t like it...but no one likes them, so they can eat a steaming pile of shit.” I said, frowning. “I don’t want a fight. I just want to get paid and go home.”

The look about the spirit changed, marginally. The tattoos seemed to be rippling along her flesh(?) and her smile faded into a frown. “Missy, we still have a glaring problem we’ve yet to address. I’m one woman...and I need a crew. So, unless you’ve got a solution to that particular snag, you’re it.”

All my like for this spirit (begrudging as some of it was) vanished in an instant. “So I’m being kidnapped.” I responded, feeling my heart start to hammer in my ears. “Just like those men you killed. So, what I’m hearing is, you’re no better.”

“Watch your words, girl. Your pretty face won’t save you from my blade.” she’d snarled. It took all that was in me not to balk, though my teeth desperately wanted to chatter.

“I’m using your own words against you, Captain.” I responded, hoping I sounded calmer than I felt. “Don’t blame me if they don’t line up the way you want.”

“One more word out of you -- “

“I’ll give you two: get. Fucked.” that had torn it. The rippling gave way to something that I’d come to expect. This was no run of the mill spirit: Captain Fresni was either a wraith or a revenant. The only real difference between the two was the level of violence capable. A wraith tends to hunt one person, or their family. A revenant hunts whoever they want...and now I was on the list. I couldn’t fight her here, not out in the open. She’d tear me to shreds. Already her jaw was gaping, revealing razor teeth. Her nails, cut short, were lengthening into something akin to talons...and believe me when I say those things hurt.

I feel no shame in saying I sprinted below deck and ducked into the galley proper. I wish I hadn’t. She wasn’t just killing people, she was eating them. Body parts, half chewed, dangled from the ceiling and littered the ground. My hand clapped over my mouth and nose to keep the smell out and my dinner in. I heard her footsteps and, as silently as I could manage, I checked my firearm. Peace was still locked, cocked and ready to rock. Well, not cocked. Gun safety, kids.

I pulled one of Elinor’s special bullets out of the cylinder. What made these so special is that, instead of lead, bone served as the projectile. The easiest way to deal with something dead is by using something dead against it. I don’t ask where Elinor gets her bone, and I think I’ll be perfectly happy to continue not knowing.

[Editor’s note: I know. It’s horrific.]

“Little pet, little pet, where are you?” she crooned. Well, I say crooned...more like...rattled. A revenant’s physiology is strange, but once they reveal their form it’s almost as if their bodies begin to decay. I peeked around the corner to see her back facing me. I took aim and...nothing. My gun clicked loud enough to sound like a scream in an empty hallway, but no roar of igniting gunpowder. She turned and...smiled. I think. “There you are.”

“Here I am.” I responded, standing on shaking legs. “Soup’s on, Captain.” she ran at me, talons held out at her sides like sabers. I did the only sane thing I could think of: I ducked as she swung. Luckily, the big swing didn’t hit me. Unluckily, she had another hand. Claw. Whatever.

So, there I was, a talon embedded in my shoulder and blood gushing from the wound like a waterfall. A little known fact about revenant wounds: leave the talon in. If it’s withdrawn the wound will immediately fester and become gangrenous. A lot of PEs have died that way.

I slammed the barrel of my gun against the base of her claw and it snapped off. She screamed her pain and rage and took another swipe at my torso. I barely managed to get far enough back in time. The fact I had to compensate for a long talon still imbedded in my shoulder didn’t mean much, as I was operating off a cubic fuckload of adrenaline. She did however manage to shred my tanktop. Which sucked, because I loved that thing. Said “Boss Ass Bitch” on it and everything...I guess I could see if Ramona would make me another one...

[Editor’s note: RIP tank top. Ramona is making another one at the time of writing.]

I sprinted past her, she’d over balanced and given me time to escape. I went down, back to the cells. I was soaked in a cold sweat by now and thankful that my hair tie had held, despite my panicked movement. I smoothed the strands away from my sweat soaked face and looked for a place to hide. Nothing was presenting itself...but an idea struck. It was a stupid idea. A terrible idea. I ran into a cell and pressed my back to the wall.

When Fresni reappeared, she was smiling. “Ran out of room to run, little rat?”

“Seems that way.” I panted. My head was spinning from the loss of blood. Thankfully, that brief moment I spent pressed against the wall had redoubled my courage...and helped me remember one little fact. “Look, Cap...I’m dead. We both know it. The second this talon is removed, my life is over...so...I guess I’m askin’ if that place on your crew is still available.”

That shocked her, if only for a moment. “You can’t lie your way out of this one.”

“No lie. Kill me now. I’d rather just go ahead and get it over with, thanks.” I said, praying that this would work. If it didn’t well...you wouldn’t be seeing this, would you?

She approached, brandishing those eight inch talons. She clicked them together, thoughtfully. “Stand still, then.” she snarled as I held my breath. “One through the heart, and it’s all over.”

Three more steps. Two. One. I stepped in and latched onto her arm, and...I bit down. I felt fetid blood fill my mouth and choke me. I immediately began to gag and then...voided my stomach, all over my aggressor.

A revenant’s true power isn’t from the change they make, though it definitely looks it. A revenant is best known for it’s insidious way of making the unreal real...so long as its concentration remains undisturbed.

When I finally finished tossing my cookies, I looked up. No ship in sight. Just a revenant, me and glorious land. The sand was disturbed, probably from all my running, and my blood left trails showing my passage. I’d been running in circles for the last hour...while she just watched.

“Shouldn’t play with your food.” I coughed, wiping my mouth. “It’s how you get killed.” she screeched in rage, her partially coagulated blood oozing from the bite mark I’d left. The talon was still lodged in my shoulder. I reached for my gun, ready to put an end to this only to pull out... “A fucking banana? Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

She roared and charged. My weapon, my baby was strapped to the rotten leather of her belt. She’d touched it. No one touched my weapon except Ray***** and myself. Not even Ramona.

That pissed me off in a way that nothing else does.

Naturally, I charged straight for her. She took a swipe with her injured arm, but instead of dodging out of the way, I leapt into it. She made contact, but only with her palm. I felt one of my ribs crack and gasped in pain, pure instinct was the only thing that drove my fist into the shredded flesh on her arm, courtesy of my teeth. She balked and I snatched.

Peace was in my hand, albeit barely. She noticed and lunged again, sending us both into the sand. Her pirate nature showed in the way her head collided with my nose, sending fresh gouts of blood over the both of us. She thought me stunned. An easy kill. She thought wrong.

“Any last words, my pretty?” she cackled, her maw open wide. She wasn’t just going to kill me...I’d pissed her off enough that she was going to bite me. My death wouldn’t just be painful, but slow...and my soul would erode right along with my body.

“Yeah.” I croaked, feeling the end of my stamina quickly approaching. “Choke on it.” I rammed Peace as hard as I possibly could into that gaping maw, hearing her gargle in rage around it. My wrist jerked as I fired once, twice, three times. Bam. Bam. Bam. A faint gargle, a twitch...and about two-hundred pounds collapsed on right on my cracked rib, finishing the job her arm had started and broke the damned thing.

I wheezed beneath the re-corpse for...ten, fifteen minutes? When I finally managed the strength to push her off of me, I immediately emptied the last three rounds into the ruined mess of her skull. Say what you will about my methodology, but I like to be thorough.

It wouldn’t have done just to leave her body there, for a mundane to see. The SC likes it’s secrecy and to risk exposing it? There was no faster way to end a career than to leave a loose end behind. I made the long trek back to the car and returned with the kerosene can. I stood by the raging fire until there was nothing but ash and blackened bone...though I know a certain lich who could make use of revenant bone.

All in all, a happy ending. Had a vampire doc fix up my shoulder to avoid dying of infection. Rosie paid me what I was owed and Elinor bought the bone off of me for further profit. Sure, my shoulder still hurts so damned bad that I can barely lift it, but...thanks to Ramona, it’ll be healed up in no time. Probably.

Yo-ho-ho, mother fucker. Case closed.

Editor’s farewell: This is the first case file VT asked I upload. It’s one she’s particularly proud of and one with a satisfactory ending. There may be names or terminology that you are unfamiliar with, but I have taken the time to star each of them as to explain. They are as follows:

SC*: Supernatural Community. This is self explanatory. Includes all beings, regardless of death, undeath or birth. IE vampires, ghosts, revenants, werewolves

Cluster**: A colloquial term amongst PEs. Used in reference to a small locale with a massive collection of spirits. Usually all working as a coordinated group.

Elinor***: Elinor Lyktor. Lich. Proprietress of Ellie’s, a shop frequented by PEs for their gear. Specializes in Osteomancy.

Ramona****: Ramona Torrez. Witch. A close friend of VT’s. Offers support, healing and consultation. A good 75% of VT’s equipment is blessed by Ramona.

Ray*****: Raleigh Kane. Gunsmith. Took the name Ray from her father, proprietress of Ray’s Armory. Forced into the Supernatural Community by VT during a case. Since, she has dedicated her craft to making weapons to deal with the malignant forces that threaten the community as a whole. Extensively researches customers and will not sell her works to those she does not trust.

#tw: violence #tw: injury #tw: blood #tw: gun play #tw: gun violence #tw: gore #tw: death #tw: dark content #tw: rape mention #horror #pirates #ghosts #VTverse #writing #OC

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blookmallow · 4 years

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i started a very confusing game about graveyards and i do not understand it but im having a good time. sort of. mostly

a FRUSTRATING time. but. i Will figure this shit out

so my guy got transported to another world/possibly back in time/Something and everyone has declared him the graveyard keeper, which he does not want to be, but *I* want to be, so that’s a shame for him. there’s a plot where you’re trying to figure out how to get back home. i do not care about this plot

looks like i can build a Corpse Hatch, which sounds lovely

why thank you, talking donkey

not sure why there’s a steady corpse delivery coming in from apparently all the same nearby town but who am i to question this

i agree wholeheartedly

my talking skull friend taught me that autopsies are just slicing off pieces of flesh. it is very scientific and im positive this is how autopsies work

i also learned a bunch of recipes for burgers and sandwiches for doing this, and the skull buddy encouraged me to go sell the “meat” in town, which is INCREDIBLY ALARMING

i later learned how to get more things than just flesh out of the corpses!! i can get all kinds of great organs and bones now!!! i dont know what the fuck to do with them!!!! im filling a box in my house with them!!!!!

press E to grave

my main first job was to fix up this mess of a graveyard, which sounds simple, but you only get a few repair kits, and its not. really explained how to get more, so i got stuck on a wild loop of nonsense trying to figure out how the fuck to fix these graves

- theres a village nearby with shops, but i can’t buy anything because i have no money. i get burial certificates for my grave digging, but i cant redeem them for essentially my paycheck at the moment bc the town is broke. i forget what im supposed to do to help that situation. i have thus far not found anything i can sell except like, trading a ton of materials for like One useful thing. im sure there is a system here but i do Not know what it is. i did in fact get desperate enough to consider my skull friend’s suggestion of selling corpse meat but i apparently am not allowed to do that without a stamp of quality/approval/whatever to uh. try to avoid the exact thing im trying to do :’ )

who would ever DO such a thing

- anyway then i spent like an in-game week trying to figure out how the fuck to get more repair kits before i realized i could unlock crafting skills which led me to “ok to build a repair kit i need a carpenter bench. which is apparently not something im supposed to find somewhere but i can build one, which would have been great to know a week ago” “to get a carpenter bench i need [various wood materials]” “to make the materials i need i gotta make a sawhorse” “to get a sawhorse i need logs” “to get logs i need to chop down trees OK THATS A THING I CAN DO I GOT THIS” [gets stuck for like 20 minutes because i could carry the log, but not put the log in my inventory, and setting the log down by the saw thing doesn’t allow you to use it, and it turns out theres actually this OTHEr thing in my yard i needed to put the log on first and THEN i could use it,]

- eventually somewhere in that mess i realized i could just build new grave markers, which was actually easier than making new repair kits to fix the existing ones, so i just started crafting a fuckload of grave markers and tossing all the broken ones in the chest outside the church. its fine

- i also can’t figure out the food crafting system, bc of the same “you need [x] ingredient. to get that you have to make [y] ingredient. to make [y] you need to find [z] and [n]” loop problem, so i keep running out of energy and having to go take naps constantly bc thats the only way i have to get it back

- this is all the first major task of the game, by the way, which i think was intended to be completed in the first few days. it took me like almost an in-game month to figure out what i needed to do and craft everything to get there

its SUCH a mess but im so determined to figure it out lmao i Will become a competent grave keeper

i also do not know what will happen when my graveyard runs out of space bc i have a steady supply of corpses and a very limited churchyard to work with

i dont think im allowed to just start digging random graves all over the town otherwise i would absolutely start digging random graves all over the town

i legitimately got STUCK here for like 10 minutes bc these guys wandered over and blocked me in and just stood there for a million years and i could not get around them/can’t interact with them at all in any way so i just had to stand there until one of them decided to leave

ah yes, here we are in the great kingdom of The Kingdom, in a little farming village known as The Village, just outside of The Town

sir i was born for this mission

a ghost came to me in my house and asked me to dig up one of the graves bc that guy is Really Annoying and throwing off the whole vibe, and i cant have that of course so i dug up the corpse and dumped it in the river and then my skull friend got mad at me because come ON man, what are you DOING, obviously cremation is the best way to dispose of a body,

its shit like this that makes me absolutely determined to figure out this crafting nightmare i LIVE for this

uhh

APPARENTLY I CAN CRAFT FAITH PARTICLES BY PREACHING. SURE. OK. WHAT DO I EVEN DO WITH THIS

also i really dont think a grave digger is qualified to be a pastor but apparently thats also my job too now

i mean, im great at it, but thats beside the point

(this is scripted i didnt make him say this lmao but)

ALSO I FOUND BLOOD IN A TRUNK IN THE CHURCH BASEMENT! PROBABLY FINE!

i found a study table but i cannot study anything bc i dont have any science

i m going to bed i cant deal with this anymore right now :’ )

#lucy plays graveyard keeper #why do i KEEP playing crafting games im SO BAD at them

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angeleyesgilly · 4 years

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↬ Scream.

●Setting: Henderson Asylum, April 2014.

●❝My demons, are begging me to open up my mouth.❞

●Trigger Warnings: Mentions of a previous rape, torture depictions, gore depictions.

The barrier was down.

At last the barrier was down.

She’d been there for what – two month?

Maybe more.

She’d been keeping only a loose track of the days, not overly focused on each passing minute. Or at least not as focus as she’d been when she’d first arrived. On her first day she’d obtained a tiny little desk calendar so she could keep track of the dates. The small little sticky pad of months was scribbled in with different dates of the month she’d been sent. When she’d gotten her second job. The day she’d had her home visit from the social worker. The day she’d…been killed. The day she woke up. The day she’d arrived here. Like clockwork, she’d marked off all the day after that, checking carefully to monitor how long she’d left Lola for.

As the days stretched into the weeks, and then into the long two months, she’d learn to relax a little. Relaxing for her, in that matter at least was maybe allowing herself to skip a day of calendar marking or two. She’d always go back and ensure she was caught up afterwards, but she tried to be more comfortable in the place she was in. After all time would no pass slowly if she didn’t at least settle in somewhat.

Over the past week, she’d heard chatter that two of the occupants were going to break down the barrier. She wasn’t sure who, and she wasn’t even sure how, really. She just knew that what she’d wished for those two months was finally coming true, and she couldn’t be more excited. After all the time away from Lola, something that’d been akin to being forced to walk around without her heart, she was going to see her again.

Gillian knew there would be commotion when she left. The asylum would no doubt be in utter chaos. Everyone would be looking to get out of there. They’d be angling to escape and go be free once again. From what she heard it would only be temporary, and she knew that everyone would be quick to take up their free time in the outside world, some would no doubt even spend it trying to permanently keep the barrier down, so they couldn’t be brought back by the curse on the food.

That was why she waited. Being caught in that commotion wouldn’t be good for her. She’d be caught amongst the bodies of several people, some male. She’d hear the horrid pants of breath as people groped for their escape. She’d be sent back to a time when those touches had been harsh, and when the panting had been of a man defiling her. Being caught in that would do no good but perhaps give her a minute or two in advance to see Lola.

She waited ten minutes, watching out her room window, anxiously gripping onto the edge of the window sill. She was careful not to do so too tightly. Being an angel now, she was stronger than ever. She was still getting used to that strength. Sometimes she had to remind herself to be gentle with things. It was never a problem before. But without realizing her own strength half of the time, she’d often forget and broke one or two things. It had made her feel so bad she ended up repairing both things she’d broken.

Once the crowd thinned, she made her exit, only grabbing her bag packed with things for a night or two. She didn’t plan to be gone long. Lola hadn’t eaten the food here, so the same time that she would be transferred back, her sister would not be, and then she’d be gone again for god only knew how long for. There was a chance she could never see the girl she promised to take care of again if she didn’t get out and get her.

She was quickly making her way down the stairs, even more quickly racing down the hall. She was eager to get there, and there wasn’t anyone waiting in the hallway anyway. They’d all moved outside or were gone already. She was more than ready to get out of there. Anticipation was evident. Her heart pounded in her chest. She was finally going to see her, and have her there again. She could take care of her again.

“Miss!” The words were loud and Gillian couldn’t believe she’d taken so long to notice that there was someone else in the room with her. She almost felt guilty for the shortest of seconds. Yet she knew with her excitement it was might have been excusable.

She slowed her run to a walk, though even as she turned around the face who’d been talking to her, she was still itching to turn and run back to the exit. But her better nature, the well-mannered side of herself was able to stop her. It was a well-dressed man. She couldn’t help but feel more unwanted anxiety and desire to leave.

“Yes is there something you need?” She asked offering a polite smile and hoping he didn’t see her nervousness.

“I need you to stop where you are,” he said, his voice which had first been gentle seemed different and contorted. Maybe anger. She couldn’t quite identify the emotion. Not exactly.

“I actually, well I have to go. You see, they broke the barrier down. My little sister is out there,” she explained. Her sentences were choppy, not as well put together as she would have liked, but she really was in a rush, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about his expression. As soon as her mention of the barrier came over him though she couldn’t help but notice that there was definite contortion of his features. Definitely anger.

“I can’t let you do this. You see. You’re an angel, and we need angels. I need to know how you’re immortal,” and just like that, he charged her. There was nothing gentle about this either. She was so taken aback, that it took a split second for her to catch on to run. She was faster, and in that split second she found that she hadn’t been able to use the angel powers she wasn’t so accustomed to using.

Gillian felt a sharp jab in her side and instantly was flashed back to a reminder of that night. It wasn’t quite as painful as that moment. Whatever had been stabbed into her hadn’t quite been as thick as the knife, not by a long shot. But it was close enough, both in size and placement that it reminded her of that. She quickly figured out it was a needle, and by then she was already drowsy. Her last thought was a memory.

The pain was so sharp and demanding. It had to be felt. She had seen that flicker of metallic in his hands and she hadn’t entirely realized what was happened. His arm had moved so quickly that by the time the blade had pierced her stomach, she hadn’t quite realized where the flash of silver went. All she knew was that it had cut into her stomach, and sliced through her dress, into her gut. It was sharp, and he was strong that it made her wonder if she’d just break apart like that, like butter.

The knife was yanked out with a sickening jerk and sound of something wet. Her blood she soon realized. The crimson spread around the wound. The pain was terrible, and she could already feel her vision blurring. But for that brief moment, the knife had been inside her. She felt it so acutely, so painfully. And now she was watching the life pour out of her body in the form of crimson warmth.

Slowly, Gillian came around, blinking a few times to try to get rid of the blurriness of her vision. She felt like she was under water. Everything was muted somehow. She felt heavy, and tired. Gillian hadn’t felt much like this since she’d gotten her appendix taken out when she was fourteen. They’d given her the anesthesia and she’d woken up feeling a lot like this. Only now, she knew that wouldn’t work. She was an angel.

Her memory came back. The sharp jab in her side that had pulled her back to the memory of when she’d been stabbed. She remembered the man in the hallway who’d at first seemed the slightest bit normal, at least until his features had come to anger. Some of the drowsy feeling wore off and she was able to take an inventory of where she was. She tried to move her wrists, than her ankles. It was what tipped her off to the fact that she was chained up.

Drugged. With whatever it was, she knew that. And chained up. Someone had felt it was necessary to bind her. She pulled more, with her extra strength. The chains did not break or bend. Not even in the slightest. Something was off. No ordinary chains could completely resist that strength. Sure, they were heavy. She could feel that evidently. Spelled perhaps. In her short time here, she’d learned of the existence of witches.

There was a dank scent permeating the air. It kind of reminded her of how the basement of her house smelled before her father had renovated it. The concrete brick surrounding confirmed had her believing she must have been in the foundations of somewhere. Probably the asylum. She had a feeling whoever it was who’d gotten her wouldn’t bother taking her somewhere else. She wasn’t even sure how far away the asylum was from civilization.

“That wore off quickly, we’ll have to give you something stronger next time,” came a deep rumble of a male voice. She shied back into the wall rather quickly, her gut churning with anxiety. It wasn’t just because of her fear of men either, it was from the feeling that there was something terribly off with this man.

“Who are you?” She asked quietly, trying to have some courage, but knowing her voice came off timid and frightened.

“That’s not important, little angel. What’s important is that you cooperate. If you do, you might live through this. If not, chances are we’ll have an angel corpse to examine,” she could see a twisted grin crossing his features as he stepped closer. Both the grin and his steps toward her had her shifting closer to the wall, her lips pressing together.

“Cooperate with what?” She asked, not letting her eyes leave him. He kept stepping closer, and she had run out of space to step back.

“With our tests,” he commented, as if she should have known. She tried not to shake or show as much fear as she felt. It wasn’t easy since her anxiety had shifted into full blown terror.

“What tests?” She asked, although a part of her didn’t want to know the answer. A big part of her was terrified that she would find out either way.

“You’ll know soon enough. First off, extend your wings,” there was no sense in those words that she had a choice in this.

“What?” She asked, confused. Why would he want her to extend her wings? She didn’t like how close he’d come to her. She didn’t like the idea of poking and prodding at her, or her wings. She didn’t want his hands on her at all.

“Extend. Your. Wings.” He said, his tone low, angry and threatening.Gillian didn’t close her eyes, she didn’t want to let him blind her in anyway. She let her wings push through the slits in her back. She let them unfurl, spreading to their full span. In her peripheral vision she could see the pristine white feathers, it was a sharp contrast against the dingy walls of the basement she was in.

Instead of stepping closer, the man disappeared once again. She wasn’t sure if she was happy with that, or more nervous than she’d been before. She didn’t move from against the wall. Instead she remained flattened there, at least no one could sneak up on her that way. Not that she could fight very well with the shackles keeping her in place.When she saw him again, he had what looked like a very like a very large nail and a hammer. Only it wasn’t a nail, it was more like a stake, made of metal as nails would be. Fear spiked and even though she was stuck with the chains, she still flung herself forward, trying to break them. She had to get out of there. “Please, you don’t need to do this! You can let me go!” She said as she pulled against the chains. “You’re better than this, you are. You don’t need to hurt me.”

The distance closed, mostly. Only his focus was on her right wing. “This might hurt a little,” he seemed like he enjoyed that idea. Without another word, and that sadistic smile, he stabbed the stake through her wing, forcing the thick, sharp length of metal through her wing. Pain exploded in her wing and through her back.

A loud, blood curdling scream escaped her lips.

#solos

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thetravelersjournal · 7 years

Text

UnderGone

Day 2

I had decided to reset again. Meeting my friends and family… it always fills me with a warm sensation. I feel that they are the reason I keep going, the reasoning behind my DETERMINATION. I woke again in the small field of flowers so familiar to me. I slowly got up and made my way to where Asr Flowey always waited.

Except he wasn’t there.

This didn't really bother me, though. He’s never showed his face half of the many times that I’ve reset. What disturbed me was that he wasn’t there even though I performed a true reset.

I continued to make my way through the Ruins, rather upset that Toriel hadn’t found me yet. Usually she appeared first thing.

I had made it all the way to the rock puzzle before I realized that not one monster had attacked me. I hadn’t seen any monsters whatsoever, not even the Mad Dummy’s friend. The only reason I forced myself to come to this conclusion was that Miss. Rock was no longer there either. Not only that, but the puzzle itself was broken, the spikes stuck in the ground. I was scared. I ran to Toriel’s house, a little frantically.

No Napstablook.

No spider bake-sale.

No Toriel.

I didn't know what to do. I got somewhat panicky. I started yelling Toriel’s name. Napstablook’s. Even Flowey’s. “Someone! Anyone! Is anyone there?” I shouted until my throat was hoarse. I shouted for anyone to say hi, give a hug, even fight me.

… … …

But nobody came.

By then I was really tired. I went to my room, turned off the light, and collapsed onto my bed. I fell asleep wondering what I had gotten myself into.

I woke up this morning, hoping it was all a bad dream, that maybe it had been my imagination, but after searching the whole house I found no one.

I’ve decided to set out through the Underground in hopes of finding anyone. I found this diary on Toriel’s desk and figured that I could record my thoughts on it.

...All the previous pages are blank.

Day 3

I arrived in Snowdin a little later than I had hoped. All the puzzles were still activated, and to keep myself sane for a little while longer, I played the crossword puzzle that Sans had left.

Still no sign of anyone.

I had left the house without any food, but thankfully there was a cart full of Nice-Cream bars lying next to the snowball challenge. I felt a little bad about just taking them, so I left some money I had found in Toriel’s desk on the counter, before continuing on to Snowdin. No one was there to announce my arrival.

I looked through all the shops, buildings, and houses. No one was home.

I continued through Waterfall, passing Temmie village, Gerson’s shop, the mountain where Undyne usually waited for me. I got the same results as before. At this point I decided to take the River person’s boat back to Snowdin, and crash at Sans and Papyrus’s. But- surprise, surprise-they weren’t there, and neither was the boat. My only choice was to continue onward to Mettaton’s resort.

On a whim I looked through Alphy’s lab to see if I could find anything useful. I was sadly mistaken. All the lights were off. I didn't want to set foot anywhere near her secret lab when it was pitch black. It gave me goosebumps every time I went through there.

I finally arrived at MTT’s resort, still without having seen anyone. Not even so much as a bug. How could they all have disappeared? All their food was still here. It doesn't make sense.

I’ll try to make some more sense of it in the morning. Right now, I’m tired.

Day… 4?

It’s occurred to me that I have no actual way of telling the time down here. Monsters had never bothered to make clocks, and I didn’t have one on me when I fell down. I was only assuming how much time had passed based on when I went to sleep and when I woke up. I suppose there's no more accurate way to tell.

I continued through the Core, meeting no one. I arrived at Asgore’s castle, filled with dread. Why was everyone gone? Did something happen when I had reset? These thoughts swirled through my mind before being replaced with a more important one; could I leave the Underground? I started running now, my heart pounding. I ran through New Home, past the long hallway, into the throne room, and reached the barrier.

Except it wasn't there.

In its place was a tall dark stone wall. There wasn't an exit. It was like there had never been one in the first place. I slowly sank to my knees. Nothing was here. There was nothing for me to do here.

I consider my options. I could continue, or I could reset. This place is creepy. Maybe if I reset, everything will go back to normal…?

Ok. Here goes…

Day… 4.1, I guess.

I reset, but nothing changed. Not only that, but all my previous journal entries are still inscrebed inscribed on these pages. It was right where I had left it when I reset. As if I had only left the room for a minute.

I cried. For a long time, I cried. I sank to the floor, put my head on my knees, and wailed.

After a while, I slowly got up, and left the castle. I traveled back to the MTT resort to rest. No one greeted me on my way there.

I checked the room to the right of the throne room before I left the castle.

… … …

I…

… No. I don't need a reminder of what I saw in there.

Day 5

I decided to explore a little further today. I went down into Alphy’s secret lab. I wasn’t scared of it now.

Not after what I saw in the castle.

It was empty, as I expected. All of Alphy’s logs of her experements experiments were missing too. Only one monitor lit up when I approached it. I remember the log. It was supposed to say ‘The flower’s gone’.

But now all it says is ‘Gone’.

Day 6

It took a while to backtrack to Snowdin (the river person is still nowhere to be seen), but I finally made it back. I’ve decided to make my base in Papyrus and San’s house, for the time being. The shop seems to have an unlimited number of Bisicles and Cinnamon Bunnies, so I don't think I’ll starve anytime soon. Right now, I have to figure out why I’m here, and how to get out.

I busted into San’s room and took his backdoor key. I went to the back of the house and turned the key in the lock. I opened the door…

But it didn't lead anywhere. A solid wooden wall was where a room should have been. I sat in the snow. That had been my last idea on getting out of here. I was stuck, for the time being. Out of sheer frustration, I yelled out again, hoping that someone would hear me.

… … …

But, nobody came.

Day 7

I decided to try and run an inventory of basically everything edible in the Underground. So far, I have 4 Monster Candies, a dozen Spider Donuts, 5 Spider Jugs, 15 Nice-Creams, 22 Cinnamon Bunnies, 18 Bisicles (about 36 Unisicles), and 50 packages of noodles (from Papyrus’s house). Which I guess means that food isn’t as unlimited as I had thought.

When I went back to the Ruins to make inventory, I stopped at the entrance. Gears spun in my mind. I might be able to use a rope to climb up through the hole to the Underground.

But no light was shining through the entrance. Either it was night, or the entrance was sealed as well. What stumped me was how I didn’t notice this before.

What was also weird was that the small field of flowers I usually landed on had grown significantly larger. I watched it for a little while, and saw a few flowers pop out of the ground and bloom after a few minutes. Strange.

I could worry about it later, though. I still need to find the rest of the food in the Underground.

Day 8

A total now of 90 Nice-Creams (45 of which are slightly melted), 32 Sea Teas, 45 Crab Apples, 2 Astronaut packages, 1 Ghost sandwich, more than 500 Temmie Flakes (which aren’t very appetizing), a package of Instant Noodles, 4 bags of Popato Chisps, 30 Hot dogs, 1 Hot Cat, 30 doggy bags of Junk Food, 134 Starfaits, 121 Glamburgers, 24 Legendary Heroes, 1 Steak in the shape of Mettaton’s face, and 1 Abandoned Quiche.

The food that I’ve found should last me a long while, as long as I ration. I won’t need to worry about starving right now, at any rate.

Day 10

I’m reading my way through the library’s books. Not much has happened otherwise.

Day 15

I’ve been walking around a lot, trying to keep my strength up. Or maybe I’m still looking for an exit. Who knows.

A part of me still wants to go back up to the castle, but… I can always explore there later.

After all, I have plenty of time on my hands.

Day 21

Still not much to write about. I’ve already gotten halfway through the library’s books. Food supplies are ok.

Day 34

I had completely forgotten up till now that Alphys had a bunch of anime in her lab. I’ve never really been interested in it before, but it can’t be all that bad, right?

Day 35

...I… think I’ll skip the anime for now.

Day 45

Ok. I think I’ve finally gained the courage to go back into the castle. Into that room. I grabbed the last Cinnamon Bunnie and I’ve started to head up there. Hopefully it won’t take too long.

Day 46

I need to write this before I forget.

The first time I entered the room with coffins, I was shocked. The walls of the room were covered in… well, what looked like blood. The coffins were all gone, except for one that was standing up at the end of the room. Lit candles adorned the top of the casket. A large star with a circle surouding surrounding it was drawn on the floor. I didn’t understand why the symbol was there, but that wasn’t my main focus. In large letters above the coffin, there were written the words “every reset brings you closer to death. soon this coffin will be home to your corpse”.

It was too much to take in, so I had fled from the room. I didn’t know what it meant, but… It was frightening, to say the least. So when I went back to get a better look at the room, I was surprised to see that some things had changed.

All sorts of methods of torture were now hanging in the chamber. Stakes were thrust into the wall, ropes with loops hung from the ceiling, and I think there was even a guillotine in the corner.

The words above the coffin had changed, too. They now read “CHOOSE A METHOD OF DEATH, HUMAN. IT MAKES IT EASIER ON THE REST OF US”.

It took me a good while to realize I was shaking. Why was this happening? What did I do?

I eventually left the room. While a part of me wanted to be nowhere near that room, I decided to sleep in New Home for tonight. Maybe the room will change again in the morning?

I hope it doesn't.

...But another part of me hopes it will.

Day 47

I’m writing this after a forced reset. I had woken up a little miserably, and had decided to check on the coffin room again. Just as I entered the room, however, spears came from out of nowhere and impaled me.

I made my way back to the morgue from my last save point. The writing on the wall had changed yet again, along with the room. Black goop slowly ran along the walls and ceiling, puddling on the floor. The stench was enough to make me vomit what little was in my stomach. The dark pudding absorbed the contents of my belly, creating an even more intoxec intoxicating smell. The goo was leaking from the coffin, and didn’t show any point of stopping. The words now read “If you don’t kill yourself, Punk, we will gladly do it for you”.

I quickly left the room once again. I ran as far away as I could. I ran, and ran, and ran, and…

Now I’m back in the Snowdin. I think I might rest here for a while. Or…

I could try resetting again. It’s worth a shot, right?

Here’s hoping.

Day 48

I need to calm down.

When I woke up in the bed of flowers again, my first realization was that there were a LOT more of them. My second observation was that vines from the flowers were trying to grab my ankle.

I ran away from the plant life, not wanting to find out what it was going to do to me. I barely made it to the first save point before the vines came up from behind and strangled me. As I reloaded, I dodged the vines and continued through the Ruins. The flowers had grown at an incredible rate, and were growing even faster in their attempt to reach me. I made it to Toriel’s house, jumping down the stairs as plant life burst through the front door. I reached the door to Snowdin, managing to shut it as more flowers tried to force their way through.

I sat in the snow for a while, listening to loud bangs coming from the door. After some time, I finally made my way back to Snowdin. I cried for a little while, before I remembered my journal.

...Why is this happening to me?

Day 49

I haven't done much of anything lately. I still tired from running so much.

Day 60

Flowers have started to spread at the outskirts of Snowdin. I’ve relocated to MTT resort for now.

Food supplies are running low, not sure what to do about that. I know I had more food than this. Where did it all go?

Day 73

Watching some anime to keep me from losing my mind.

Day ?

I’ve lost all track of time now. I haven’t slept for a while. I can’t.

I checked the morgue again. A big dentist chair laid in the middle of the room, attached to a rope that lead to a slightly opened coffin. Sharp dentistry tools sat on the table next to it, as well as unconvi unconventional tools, like a chainsaw and a hammer. The words had changed once again, this time to “Think of it like taking a trip to the dentist”.

Day ?

The flowers are growing rapidly. They’ve almost made their way to Hotland now. Food supplies gone. So hungry.

I’m so hungry

Day ?

hungry so hungry so hungry so hungry so hungry

[Incoherent scribbling]

No food no cinnamonBUnniesnoTemmieflakesNOBisiclesimsOalonetheresnoboDYatallCAnsoMEbodypleasefindmeidontwanttobealone

[Incoherent scribbling]

flowers everywhere THEY’RE EVERYWHERE THEY’RE TEARING ME APART OVER AND OVER THEY’RE GROWING FASTER AND FASTER THERE'S NOWHERE TO RUN AN-

[Incoherent scribbling. The next paragraph is barely legible]

THEY’VE BLOCKED ME IN THE COFFIN ROOM THEY’RE STILL GROWING IT’S OPENING OH [Illegible] ITS OPENING ITS HOWLING ITS HOWLING AT ME, “You are the future of [Illegible] and monsters” THE VINES THEY’RE DRAGGING ME IN I CAN’T MOVE HELP ME HELP ME SOMEONE PLEASE HEL-

[The rest of the journal is blank, except for the inside back cover. Small words at the bottom are burned into it]

DETERMINATION

Greetings, Diary!

I was quite surprised to find a human child laying in the flower bed this morning. I tried to lead them home, but the fall must have hurt them somehow. They seem… well, empty, almost, and they don’t respond to anything I say. Their eyes appear hollow, and they keep muttering about flowers. It’s very disturbing, and I do hope they are alright.

While checking their HP to see if they were injured, I noticed the oddest thing. The human appears to have no soul. How are they alive? It is most troubling indeed.

Nevertheless, as caretaker of the Ruins, it is my responsibility to watch over them. I will make sure they are comfortable living down here in the Underground.

-Toriel

Frisk and Toriel belong to Toby Fox

#journal entry #TFTM #undertale #AU #undergone #happy halloween #friday the 13th #2spoopy4me

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nacchi-nacchi-nacchi · 5 years

Text

Troubling of the Water: A Todd Howard Story

Wilt thou be made whole? By Nacchi.

On the Production of Compact Discs

Information is stored in CD format as a series of microscopic burns. The useless unblemished disc is covered with millions of tiny wounds until it is assigned order, given utility and thus meaning; its identity is nothing more than a shorthand for the arrangement of its injuries. Hundreds of thousands of identically-scorched discs are mass-produced in factories devoted to this purpose, and then they go out into the world—momentarily useful and then left until they are forgotten, soon obsolete and eventually unreadable. But the marks remain, scars gone illegible within environments alien to them.

CDs are fragile things, damaged in just the right way. Cracks and gouges, records of less useful traumas, form mnemonic ravines into which meaning and memory disappear. And then, the greatest tragedy for a compact disc: to be discarded before even the moment in which its constellation of injuries--that is, in which itself--might be recognized, and so fulfill its destiny. What is to be done with these CDs, and all the CDs waiting for an eternity in landfills and forests and everywhere else on earth? What is the fate of objects with no use?

Chapter I: You Can Climb That Mountain

"I want to change the world.”

Every child believes this; every child is a fool. I certainly did, and was. But then, if I have ever deserved sympathy, it is in that distant past. I was made a fool, as we all are; Even as they nursed their injuries, those around me encouraged me toward lethally high aspirations of my own with patronizing smiles—under the pretense of indulging me, they cultivated my naivety as material for fresh bandages. Surely, someday, for someone—perhaps me—a dream would come true, and the world would open up for everyone. From the very start of my life, I was merely a thing to be used until I was exhausted and then thrown away.

By the time I had grown to understand my position, I was already fatally misaligned with the reality of my circumstances. Stupidly, I had told myself over and over again that, not having any say in the circumstances of my arrival, I was at the very least owed entry into the warm world I had been weaned on stories of. But, I had been given a gift after all, though I didn’t know it at the time: the very things which had finally been destroyed within me, my favorite parts of myself, were the few sacred qualities which might which might have prevented me from becoming the sort of monster that survives in this world—This was the expression of love I had been searching for all along, one I failed to recognize until much too late.

All but forgetting even the ruins of those painful, incongruent parts, I became capable of accepting, even almost of desiring, a life of fighting as hard and as cruelly as necessary to secure my own lowly position. I had made it, whatever it was. I had became the shape and hardness required of me, and had limited the bounds of my imagination to the realities of my existence. Insofar as every part of me that might have been crushed within my confines was gone, I was perfectly accommodated. Insofar as every noncontiguous region of myself had been excised, I was a complete being.

And yet. Even knowing that I could never claim to deserve anything beyond this pathetic life, my mind still wanders from time to time. I remember all sorts of things, stupid fairytales about finding some small, radiant thing, and exclaiming—as the narrator gave a tranquilized smile, or a soundtrack swelled—”Ah, I’m so glad to be alive!”

No matter how I tried, I could not shake those irritating thoughts. This, I believe, is referred to as the death drive.

November 11, 2011. Veterans Day. Already tasting vodka on my lips, I follow the advertisements promising hundreds of hours of velvety unconsciousness to my local GameStop. As I enter I am immediately assaulted by three screens blasting three different advertisements for three different video games. It would seem that if I am to return to the grace of nothingness, I must willingly plunge myself into hell.

“J-just this, please,” I stammer, holding out an empty box and a scuffed plastic card as meager offerings to let me pass through the store unmolested.

In this, as in all things, I am disappointed.

“Oh, you’re a fan of Elder Scrolls, huh? You want that for PC? You know, PC is really the best, since you get all the mods…”

As my mind drifts off, I recall being limply hit on in college—beneath all the token effort, the worn promise of pleasure is nothing more than an excuse for accepting the comfort of a night—or a few months, or years—spoken for, populated with enough distractions to sustain yourself, for a while. After the longest forty-five seconds of my life I am finally permitted to leave the store with my game. Driving home, I wonder when I stopped liking video games (did I ever like them?), and why I keep buying them. Well, what else would I waste my money and time on? Best to devote myself to whatever keeps me staring at a wall; after all, to raise my eyes further would only invite deeper injuries. It’s a strange kind of responsibility I practice, but then responsibility is always painful.

The game disc feels light and cheap in my hand as I place it into my computer’s CD tray. And then it is drawn into the machine, and with a click and the whirr of a laser everything is set into place.

The game installs. The world is gray and filthy. I walk for some time, talk to some people, do what they want; it feels more or less like having a job. I had told myself that as a child, these games held some magic for me, something I could recapture; instead I am left with stinging eyes and an inventory full of meaningless words. There is nothing there to grasp on to, no substance to all the various weapons and armor and pre-appraised treasure. A sickness overtakes me, lying atop the one already provoked by the cheap alcohol I had been drinking. I just want to stop playing and... do... anything, maybe take a walk outside—when was the last time I had been to a park, or really, anywhere without a specific purpose? For one moment, I feel the resolve to go building within me—and then a corpse intersects with a door and begins to twist rapidly around, writhing about with an indescribable cascade of layered thuds.

I begin to cackle, a laugh I cannot even recognize as my own. A sword, battered by the flailing limbs, goes spinning upward with another sound—I double over. This, surely, is why I purchased this game. This is why I spent the money I earned with my long hours of work. At last all the years have led me somewhere, a path back to the sundrenched fields in which I passed some carefree childhood: this cloying, slapstick meme.

There is a kind of love so pure that it can only be understood as a species of gravest perversion. A love which tolerates no artifice and suffers no consideration of the demands of the outside world; a transcendent, fatal, repulsive sort of love. This is the love that I, miserable human being that I am, hold for this “meme” in its raw, unattenuated form. It is the only sort of love which a creature like me can muster.

Meme is the cold hamburger served up at a drive-thru with half the toppings forgotten, and it is the accompanying chuckle. It is the momentary warmth from a trash-heap of disappointments burning to nothing, the measly payment for the copper stripped from the last obsolete office a nameless architect ever built, a final betrayal of hope itself that some small scrap of emotion, whatever it is, might still be salvaged—return to a hometown you feel nothing for, find where the stain of hemolymph crushed into the pavement might remind you of sunlight—and that is meme.

If we are to live submerged in industrial waste, I choose to bend down at each iridescent pool and drink as deeply as I can—that I might at least get drunk on my own suffering, and perhaps even hallucinate some specter of amusement. If nothing else, at least I have that knowing smirk, unseen by anyone but myself; I’m really better than this, you know. It may be worthless, but there was never anything to extract worth from in the first place; I’ll take my silly little laughs. I have no idea what it means to love myself, or anyone else, but perhaps loving these stupid, malfunctioning pieces of debris is as close as I can get.

The following day I discover console commands, and my passion burns even hotter in my chest. So hot even that it melts the chains I had fashioned from the iron of my own blood, chains binding me to the hard edges of that putrid concept known as survival. I am not set free, of course. A malformed entity like myself is incapable of understanding freedom, even if I were to somehow earn it; given wings and set loose with an open sky, I would only bash my head to bits against the ground. No, I am more of a slave than I ever was—a slave to that neon, excruciating joy which in a single instant melted me down and shaped me anew.

Less than human, I have become a gamer.

Chapter IIa: Put What You Want in Your Hands

Having broken free of those chains which I chafed against for most of my life, I began to tumble painfully through my new, larger cage. The next two or three years progressed uneventfully despite the constant drip of new adventures and alterations in my beloved game—I had nothing to lose, and I lost it.

Taking advantage of a departmental reorganization, I left my job behind. Nothing could have mattered less to me at the time; I had only settled for the position in the first place to advance a career about which I cared nothing, chosen only on the basis of a few romantic fantasies. Still, the manner in which I made my exit left me with no hope for further employment in the field, and about as many friends. Loneliness changed, from something I experienced as I ran against the shallowness of my friendships to something I experienced in solitude; truth be told, I found that I vastly prefer the latter.

A far more dire consequence was the rapid depletion of my savings. I had perhaps overestimated how easy it would be to find some stop-gap job and how willing I would be to do that work, and the costs of living piled up frighteningly quickly. There were always new consoles to buy, new Skyrims to experience with their own unique flaws native to each platform, and the few income sources I drifted between came to hardly anything at all. Finally, too broke even to acquire new debt, I remembered why I had choked down the humiliation of employed life for so long.

I had only just purchased a PlayStation VR when Skyrim was released for the Nintendo Switch, and I desperately needed the funds to buy it. There was nothing left to sell, nothing but my piles of Skyrim games and the consoles to play them with. I had even given up alcohol, having found a more effective means of self-destruction. I was at wit’s end; I would wake up in a cold sweat at four in the morning, scour YouTube for any bug videos and scrub through those grating Let’s Plays, unable to get back to sleep unless I found some collision error or AI failure.

Finally, I contacted Todd Howard himself, hoping against hope that the man behind it all might take some mercy upon his most loyal fan. Nothing in my life could have prepared me for the consequences of this action. Whatever sort of creature I might have been, I held only a human understanding of this reality at best; I was incapable of comprehending the level at which a being like Todd operates.

And so it came to be, though even now I’m not really sure how, that I was in Maryland, face to face with Todd himself. He said nothing, his cold silence a marked contrast to the nervous energy he overflowed with in interviews. It gave me the impression that there were really no words to be said, no words but those listed on the contract before me.

I saw my whole life laid out there, neatly bound in threads of black ink. It was in tracing those threads across the page that I saw my life, for the first time, as truly my own. This was not the account of a character I was forced to suffer with; it was me, body and mind tied to a clearly-formed existence.

I earnestly believe that each of us desire, at our core, to be bound by something greater than ourselves. Floating freely through the horrible emptiness, crashing into others as we tumble about, we have no hard form, no justification for the parasitism of existence. And so we cage our dispersed conscious in a flimsy, prefabricated frame of lies, that that cage, those lies, may become our body and their borders our self. Having changed my cage was tantamount to rebirth. But was I entering a higher cycle of existence, or one of atonement?

Perhaps if I knew either way, I would have refused to sign the document. But the thrill of unknowing set down roots in that same part of my breast which had torn me from my dull life, putting forth a bloom of seductive crimson. At last, I remembered that I had a heart, and that it was filled with blood; I dripped that blood down the pen and across those neat threads, and my mind, body and life came together in a blaze of warmth.

Todd picked up the contract, wordlessly looked over my signature, nodded. I suppose the taste of my blood was to his liking.

Chapter IIb: Make Yourself Proud

A car soon arrived to pick me up. As it wound its way along the highway, I stared out into the sky—today it was brilliantly, crushingly blue, and, perhaps because I knew this would be my last sight of it, I couldn’t drink in enough. It was the kind of sky that had always set my thoughts wandering, and I sank softly into daydreams of the past. Not in regret, but as a way of basking in the satisfaction of having my affairs settled, really settled.

The feeling was itself nostalgic. How long had it been since I could complete everything I hoped to and enjoy a clear mind like this one? Even since I had given myself entirely over to Skyrim, I never found the time, or more accurately the mental discipline, to feel satisfied with my progress when it was time to sleep. There was always some other barrow, another Draugr to sneak attack, ten more frost trolls to spawn in. But, sometime before that, surely...

In truth, I’ve always found it better to avoid thinking too much about the past, but being that I was in a rare whimsical mood I chased the thoughts as they rolled around.

Where exactly had my life diverged from the tangle of paths collectively known as human society, and when had the gap between the two become too wide to cross? Though I no longer felt any pain when considering that sort of thing, the answer remained hazy, somewhere just out of reach. Maybe it never existed in the first place... Even as I tried to turn my memories over I found myself refashioning them, reshooting events and adjusting details until they supported convenient interpretations. By this point the original memory, if such a thing could be said to exist, had long since been lost.

In the back of that car, in that tiny world populated only by me, I invented a past self to bid farewell to.

What sense of obligation drove me? It must have been something like going to a distant relative’s funeral—unable to feel the emotion I had been expecting, unsure of even what that emotion was, I made a stiff attempt at propriety in its stead. Naturally it was an awkward affair, a lot like meeting an old friend one has long ago fallen out of touch with. Actually, it was exactly that—the sense of trying to reinvent an already-vanished identity, working backwards to justify a bundle of artificial feelings, all wrapped up far too neatly.

I, whose parts had never quite fit together properly, couldn’t be satisfied with an answer that tied a neat bow on my life. In other words, I refused to accept an explanation that “just works”—Surely I must myself be as full of meaningless switchbacks, unintended paths and misplaced objects as the game I had chosen to devote myself to.

A sharp turn pulled me out of my half-dreaming state, my mind still trailing somewhere behind me. We had arrived, and it was time to leave the beautiful sky behind.

Chapter III: You Can Play Forever

My thoughts hardened again as I approached the Bethesda offices, and my heart pounded in my ears. There I stood, at the edge of eternity, awaiting the consummation of my obsession. My driver came too, standing wordlessly behind me in a smart suit and dark sunglasses that, taken together, gave him a cartoonishly coherent image. I wondered if he wasn’t a beginner at this too, momentarily crossing paths with me as he strode out to the fringes of his own world with the same affected confidence.

All of my earlier contentment evaporated in the heat of that moment, a heat that seemed to exude from the manila walls of the office as surely as if they were the sands of a far-off desert. It was almost as if the golden sunlight which lapped against the outer offices of the building but went no farther had given them some extra warmth in compensation—It was strange to think that those walls would soon separate me forever from that light which had been shining down on me for all of my life. The glass door, when I pushed it, seemed impossibly heavy despite the smoothness with which it opened.

As the door came to a close behind me with a puff of air, I was determined not to feel even a single moment of anxiety or regret. What was I leaving behind? A life worth less than nothing. Having entered the (figurative) dungeon with no (figurative) means of healing and suffering deep (figurative) wounds, I had been tip-toeing around trying futilely to avoid further damage even as I knew deep in my heart that I would be broken the moment I tried to do anything.

I had been wrong my whole life; the thing at my core, the thing that had died, it had been a strand of that sunlight which would have pulled me out of that building. There is a place for the injured in society, in the same way that everyone sometimes indulges in a sad song. There is a place for those things which shatter and then go on bandaged in tape and patches, those things that glow with the rainbow promise of the resilience of the spirit, of that distant day when scars will have become old friends.

There is no place in this entire world for those who have broken irreparably. For those who cannot move on, for those who have no future, whose lives are forever sent spinning out of orbit from consensus human existence. There is no promise of the infinite and indefinite palliative care needed simply for that kind of person to survive each day. And, instinctively sensing that shortcoming, fearful that understanding the curse would be to invite it, those fortunate, blind souls for whom tomorrow will surely come are repulsed by the existence of those like me—Those left with no foundation on which to rebuild. That’s what I told myself, anyway.

But Todd was different. Ever since our meeting I believed, I had to believe, that he was one of the few members of this pathetic species with an unwounded heart in his chest. Or rather, I had to believe that that heart pulsed with such a vulgar, careless muscularity that injuries which would tear a more sensitive man to shreds could not stop its beating, but only wreathe it in a rosy mist of rich, hot blood as it pumped—Driving him, I presume, ever northward to the frozen mounts of Skyrim, like the engine of a locomotive rushing monomaniacally toward the next sales pitch.

I would be crushed carelessly by the weight of that existence, a bug upon a windshield. The thought excited me beyond comparison. If I met that sort of end, lower than a stray dog, I was certain that in my last moments I would blaze incandescent. A life so perfectly brought to nothing... That peculiar alchemy had become my last hope.

I was led deep within the bowels of the Bethesda facility, through winding halls and past unmarked doors. I was fairly confident that I had been descending underground from the first floor, but I soon lost all sense of how deep I might have gone. As I passed each silent chamber, I wondered if some other contractee was within, and for the first time in years I felt true jealousy claw at my heart. I was motioned through another door, shut inside, and then with the click of a lock I was left in darkness with only my strange emotions for company.

How much time did I spend drifting through that abyss? It was only when I realized that I couldn’t make out my hand in front of my face that I started to fret about my appearance. I had first come to Todd on my knees; now that I had incurred a debt of gratitude too heavy to ever repay, I could at least have kept myself presentable for his sake. But there was nothing to be done about it, and so, brushing my hair frantically with one hand, I set about groping around the limits of my chamber with the other.

It seemed I had been granted a bed with a cold steel frame of the sort hospitals have in period films, a large, rectangular dresser of some sort and an exposed toilet and sink shoved awkwardly in a corner. Beyond that, there could have been anything or nothing at all. Even my thoughts seemed to dissolve into the endless night, and soon I was almost unsure if I was asleep or awake.

It was in this state that he came to me, emerging from a thin slit of light and into the darkness of my dream like the negative image of an infant poking its head into the world. He clapped twice, waited. Clapped again.

The darkness erupted into light.

“You, uh, you could have… They were supposed to…”

So this was the real Todd after all. The weight of Nirn and beyond, all in the body of this strange, overgrown teenager. Even as my earlier fantasies evaporated, I drew a certain confidence from his awkward manner. Smiling slyly, I took my first steps toward him.

Todd continued stammering out an introduction. He seemed profoundly uncomfortable with the words people use, piling up phrases and cutting himself off in a spectacular tangle of conversation. The nervousness on his face grew as I approached, and I took a cruel delight in embracing him mid-sentence. His monologue, hardly a viable birth from the start, died in his throat as he hesitantly placed his hands around me.

No matter how quickly I tried to dispel the thought, his unsure touch reminded me of nothing so much as a child grasping out for its mother as he searched my body. As if to exact revenge for my shattered image of him, I took the lead with a perverse poise, patiently but firmly guiding his faltering touch.

Suddenly, Todd found what he sought, and began to move with a feverish brute force. The strength of an adult man erupted awkwardly from his lanky frame, a weird mixture of the figure I had imagined him to be and the one I saw clearly before my eyes. Carelessly, roughly, like the tugging of a newborn animal yet to even open its eyes, those hands pulled at me with such raw, artless desire that I thought I would surely be torn apart.

I gasped into the wrinkled collar of his shirt. For just a moment we were entwined in the stagnant, torrid air of the chamber; it was as though I was reliving a memory, one I had recalled many times before but in a concentrated form, crystallized until it had taken on a physical edge. Thought became plastic, molten, until I had forgotten where one of us ended and the other began, who was who and who held what and how desire flowed between us. Even before the moment had passed, I knew I didn’t want the tragedy of waiting for it, for something that would be like it but never quite the same, to take hold of me again—I wanted nothing more than to keep my eyes closed forever, burrowed within the same sensation for eternity.

And then, in an instant, it was over. We tumbled apart from other, spent and complete.

The copy of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim for Xbox 360 Todd had shoved into my waistband sat cold against my stomach, stretching the fabric. Across from me, Todd clutched the sixty dollars he had extracted from my back pocket to his breast as he lay on his back staring blankly up into the concrete ceiling. It was the look of a man who had found all that he wanted and spent all of himself in consuming it, a vacant gaze turned upward at nothing at all.

We lay like corpses, like beings reverted to clay, in that chamber where time did not pass.

Once again I was filled with a terrible sadness even before the moment ended. It seemed impossibly cruel that the rotation of the earth and caprices of biology would soon reassert their tyranny over the world in which we two had found some fleeting shelter. Tears fell wet and hot down my cheeks, streaming soundlessly onto the hard floor. Todd, I realized in some periphery of my mind, was also crying.

Gently, apologetically, Todd slaughtered the moment before it could be taken by decay.

“I’ll be back tomorrow the same time,” he said with a sad smile. “I—I always operate in the same routine.”

And then he was gone, and I was all alone with myself. Myself, the disc and a cabinet stuffed with consoles and topped with a small television. All according to contract, all belonging to Todd—and yet I could hardly bear even this brief custodianship of everything I had dragged around for so long. Not any more. They had become so, so awfully heavy.

Long after he had disappeared, three more twenty dollar bills appeared from the crack beneath my door.

Returning uncertainly to life, as if awakening from a heartbreakingly beautiful dream, I breathed three words into the emptiness:

"I'll be waiting."

Originally posted November 2017, and revised for this blog. Todd Howard the meme figure in my meme hell world should not be conflated with Todd Howard the actual flesh-and-blood person in the actual hell world.

#toddposting #toddpost #todd howard #skyrim #the pool of bethesda #blood/#old #writing #by nacchi #happy valentines day

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thetygre · 7 years

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Dark Souls Lore Ramblings #4

@invokingbees said:

I like reading your ramblings, this stuff is always fun. I had always been under the impression Humanity/Dark were the same thing, physical objects, that Dark is diffused Humanity or something, I don’t know. I’d like to see you tackle Souls themselves, soul magic and how the hell people use it as a currency, what souls even ARE (some kind of energy source?), how we absorb them, that stuff.

Oh man, funny little coincidence here, that is the exact place that I was about to go. My research into the Dark got me thinking about how Humanity and Souls work.

Souls, the Humanity Score, and States of Being

Let’s start with the basics, looking at states of being and the components of that existence piece by piece.

This is your basic human being. I don’t know how all this shit works for Lords, Giants, Witches, and whatever else is out there, but I’m running on the assumption that it’s pretty similar given that they all share a root species. Anyway, your standard human is composed of three different components; the Soul, Humanity, and the Body. When a person has all three of those components and they are properly aligned, they are basically normal people. Even Undead are indistinguishable from humans when they have all their shit together.

When a human loses their Humanity but still retains their body and soul, they become a Hollow. Not a lot to explain here; basically a zombie. Mindless corpse animated by Soul. Hard to tell whether they feel an innate hunger for Humanity or if they’re just acting mindlessly. Not everyone who dies turns into a Hollow, of course; only those with the Undead Curse. That’s why the whole world isn’t being overrun by every Tom, Dick, and Larry who kicked the bucket.

Presumably, they work like the Boletarians in Demon’s Souls. (And let’s get this out of the way now; a lot of this involves the words ‘like/because Demon’s Souls’.) I.E. ‘Weaker’ human beings or those who have been Hollows longer are more feral, while younger Hollows and individuals with more Humanity and Souls in life retain some brain function, at least for a while, and can remember how to use weapons and tools. This hints at a possible link between Souls and cognition which, again, like Demon’s Souls. Heck, some Hollows outright keep their personalities; just look at the two Undead Merchants in the Undead Burg.

Conversely, Humanity and Soul without a body results in wraithes, like the ones in the Abyss and maybe even Red Phantoms. Technically, these creatures have a physical presence, but only in the sense that Souls and Humanity are physical objects. Essentially, they are incorporeal with the bare minimum of existence, relating to their Humanity ‘body’ and Souls. I don’t want to say ‘ectoplasm’, but the word definitely comes to mind.

Finally, a body without Souls is a corpse. Just... a fucking corpse. Can’t make it any clearer than that. Dead. Deceased. Demised. A stiff. Bereft of life. Rest in piece. Etc etera et al. Sometimes, you find a corpse with Humanity still on it (in it?); Hell, Patches makes a business out of scavenging Humanity out of bodies. Again, not everyone who dies, or even everyone with strong Humanity, becomes a Hollow; just those with the Undead Curse. The more interesting (and way more common) scenario is when you find a body with its Soul still on it. Given the nature of Souls, they’re supposed to disappear on death, absorbed by whoever killed the person in question. Maybe absorbing Souls is something unique to Undead? They absorb Humanity, so it wouldn’t be entirely without precedent.

Even though I harped on it a bunch in my last lore ramblings, let’s talk about Humanity just a little bit more. Humanity are little pieces of the Dark Soul, which itself is just a chunk of Dark (or not; depends on which Primordial Serpent you’re talking to). For all we know, Dark is just the overall spread of Humanity across the human species, or maybe it is some primordial force from before time and the First Flame. Probably both, because that would be slightly more inconvenient to me trying to make sense of everything.

Anyway, getting back on topic; every human being has some Humanity. Forget the allegorical version of that sentence, we’re talking about the hard item here. In the Souls community, there’s this thing called ‘hard’ and ‘soft’ Humanity; ‘soft’ Humanity is the Humanity in your inventory, carried around in the same place as your mountain of titanite chunks and Souls. ‘Hard’ Humanity is the Humanity your character has active on them, Hollow or Human. In order to be a Human, you have to spend at least one hard Humanity at a bonfire.

Lore-wise, this translates to everybody having some base, starter-point of Humanity that makes them a conscious human being. Usually, this base Humanity dissipates with the body’s transition between animate and inanimate states (aka dying). Everything after that base is surplus. The best way to see this is to become a Darkwraith and drain friendly NPCs of their extra Humanity. Each NPC has a different amounts; some just have the base-line amount of Humanity necessary to be a Human and can’t lose it without being killed.

It’s actually kind of cool to compare and contrast different NPCs and the amount of Humanity they have. You can come up with all sorts of different backstories and inferences about the amounts they have. For instance, Siegmeyer has four Humanity, but his daughter, Sieglinde, has ten. Rhea also has a large amount, a total of twelve Humanity! I like to think that this implies that everybody actually reaches a surplus of Humanity when they mature, but then it gets gradually whittled down over the course of life and/or the Undead Curse. Both Rhea and Sieglinde only recently started adventuring, for example. Meanwhile, Darkwraiths like Lautrec and Mildred have Humanity to spare, while Kirk has given all of his hunted Humanity to the Pale Lady. Oscar naturally has no Humanity left, non-humans like Ciaran and Quelanna give nothing, and it goes on and on.

Now this mass of Humanity is generally experienced as a singular presence. In other words, every person with more than one Humanity doesn’t feel like they have five or six people inside them. There are two notable exceptions. First and foremost are Twin Humanities; this is a pair of Humanities linked together by some kind of bond. Mother and child, twin siblings, woman and giant spider, etc. Really interesting because it does seem to confirm that, like the wraithes in Oolacile, Humanity is reproduced by fission. Second is the experience Fire Keepers have with Humanity; they are acutely aware of each separate piece of Humanity contributed to them. They actually do experience their surplus Humanity as a swarm of independent cells inside them. I bring the experience of Humanity up because it’s necessary to understanding our next subject...

Souls. Good old, dependable Souls. Series title. We don’t call it ‘Humanityborne’ or the ‘Ephemeral Eye Series’. Frankly though, we should; Souls are almost completely unaddressed as a subject in Dark Souls, and there’s really no explanation for them. The very first line in Demon’s Souls, literally the first thing you see, explains that Souls are equivalent to cognition and the mind. But that role is taken by Humanity in Dark Souls, so that just really leaves Souls as an anomaly. In the end, Souls in Dark Souls appear to be nothing but a leftover from Demon’s Souls. But half the fun in lore is putting together the pieces left by mechanics and game design decisions. So what are Souls?

The better question might be ‘What is Soul?’. Put simply, Soul is the animating force of the universe. It is present in all animate things; living, dead, Undead, constructed, spiritual. All of it. It is a type of energy that gives life, and binds life together. Kind of like that other, mystical force thingy. Magic powers included. Gonna’ be honest, I was kind of going to give magic it’s own thing later. Suffice it to say that Soul is the medium by which an individual makes magic manifest. Or something like that.

Soul is experienced as Souls. Again, like Humanity, an individual has a singular Soul. It’s just measured in a concise, plural metric. Even Hollows and vermin have a couple of hundred Souls. That doesn’t mean they literally have five hundred individual Souls in them, it’s just how it’s measured. Also like Humanity, it can be assumed that a character has an inherent amount of Souls that are consumed in the transition between animate and inanimate; everything beyond that is extra.

Another big question is how exactly Souls are used, both as a currency and as a means of self-enhancement. The short answer is (say it with me now) because that’s how it was in Demon’s Souls. For the moment, let’s just assume that Souls really are representative of experience along with being an energy source and by trading it into the Bonfire, your character is ‘reflecting’ and growing in certain talents. After all, what does your character do at the Bonfire but stare pensively into the flame, contemplating their journey? Whether or not Souls as an energy source actually alter the Undead’s body isn’t really clear; it’s not a theme like it was in Demon’s Souls (that’s it; it’s a drinking game now).

As for why Souls are currency... that one really is just an inexplicable artifact. In Demon’s Souls (SHOT), Souls were used as currency because the world was in such terrible state that money no longer had any value. In Dark Souls, it’s explained that the situation is pretty much the same but localized in Lordran. I’m going to allow this since there’s nothing that necessarily states that people have a particularly easy time traveling out of Lordran, and Lordran itself is basically in the same apocalyptic state as the Demon’s Souls (SHOT) world. But I have to think that if people could actually travel back to their homelands, real life currency like the coins you find would still have some pull. Honestly, Salt and Sanctuary handles this better, but I’ll shut up about it now.

How does your character access these Souls for currency and self enhancement? Same way they access Humanity. Which is code for I really, really don’t know or could find anything addressing it even in Demon’s Souls. I always imagined that it was a kind of pseudo-magic that all Undead inherently known on their transformation, or maybe their entrance to Lordran. I have to wonder what kind of effects a Souls and Humanity trade would have on the world outside Lordran, but let’s keep pressing forward.

Unique entities occasionally have unique Souls in addition to the Souls they give on death. This can be assumed to be one of two things from where I’m standing; either it’s the base Soul that is usually consumed on death but survives for these unique exampleon, or it’s something different from the Soul altogether, like a chunk of Humanity or Divinity or whatever the case may be. I think it’s more likely that it’s the first one given that you can get unique souls from all kinds of different entities; Lords, demons, Fire Keepers, a particularly large insect, etc.

The most obvious examples are Fire Keeper Souls, which are interesting because they represent some kind of dichotomy between the Soul, Humanity, and the First Flame. Also, can we just talk about how weird they look? Like, even for unique Souls, Fire Keeper Souls are freaky looking. I mean really look at it. What does it remind you of? I don’t want to sound weird but, well, it reminds me of a zygote. I’m dead serious here; it’s probably meant to look like smoke because Fire Maiden/fire, but I honestly think it looks like an ovum and sperm. Even the description is weirdly biological; a Fire Maiden’s Soul is a draw for countless wriggling, living Humanity. It’s weird right? Right? I don’t know what point it could be working toward, but it’s not like it’s the only reproductive imagery in the game. We all know the Bed of Chaos and Giygas have some shit in common, that’s all I’m saying. Anyway, just something I wanted to talk about in case I don’t do a separate thing for Fire Maidens.

I stated earlier that Souls are the animating energy of the universe, but I think it goes beyond even that. I think that Souls are literally in all things, both animate and inanimate. Soul is as present in rocks and metal and even piles of poop as it is in living things. That’s where the Serpents come in; they can use their big old chompers to filter out the material (Dark?) existence (re: eat it) and leave the pure energy, the Souls, behind for you to collect. We’ll get to the Serpents on their own terms, but it’s the implications about Soul that interest me.

Literally everything has a Soul. And if you know anything about Japanese culture, then you know about the belief system of Shinto. Shinto evolved from an essentially animistic series of native Japanese religions and shamanistic traditions, and even though it’s changed and declined in Japan, it is still a part of Japanese culture. But anyway, Shinto’s animism is founded on the notion that all things have kami, a spirit. Here in the West, we’re more familiar with the direct characters and creatures that kami manifest as; gods like Amaterasu and Susanoo, animal spirits like nine-tailed foxes and tanuki, or even object yokai like the tsukumogami. But that divine, spiritual energy is still present in all things. In other words, I think that Souls, in Dark Souls at least, draw from the Japanese notion of kami to some degree.

But that’s not the only Oriental philosophy present in Dark Souls, and certainly not the only pertaining to the nature of the human spirit. (Shocking, right?) This might be a stretch, so I’m probably reading too much into it, but in Chinese Taoism, the soul is split in to at least two parts (sometimes it’s three, sometimes it’s ten; still figuring it out). This in itself isn’t unusual; if I remember my Egyptian mythology correctly, then the soul was split into anywhere between five and thirteen different aspects. Anyway, in Taoism, the soul is naturally drawn between yin and yang, being divided into hun and po. Hun is the spiritual, ethereal yang soul that leaves the body after death. Po is the corporeal yin soul that stays with the body. Hun is intelligent, but po is base and crude. After hun leaves the body, the po might control the body and become an undead creature; a jiangshi, the famous Chinese hopping vampire. While a longer stretch then the Japanese kami, there are some parallels between hun and po and Souls and Humanity.

God, I sound like fucking Game Theorists right now. He who fights lore and all that crap. Anyway, I guess there is no ultimate lesson here beyond the reminder that for all it’s Western trappings, Dark Souls is still very much a Japanese game with Eastern mythology, religion, spirituality, and philosophy at its heart. That’s before I get into Buddhism, existentialism, the cyclical nature of reality, the pursuit of power, and all that deeper stuff. I’m was just trying to talk about in-game currency and wound up talking about Chinese vampires. So... not bad. Anything that takes me from video games to jiangshi is not bad at all.

#Dark Souls #Dark Souls Lore #Soulsborne #Souls Series #Demon's Souls #dark souls lore ramblings

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foursprout-blog · 6 years

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25 Gamers On The Most Gruesome Story That Stuck With Them Long After They Finished Playing

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25 Gamers On The Most Gruesome Story That Stuck With Them Long After They Finished Playing

Unsplash / Nicolas Gras

1. S.T.A.L.K.E.R: Shadow of Chernobyl

“In S.T.A.L.K.E.R: Shadow of Chernobyl, there were several underground research labs full of all kind of spooky and paranormal badness and other sorts of anomalies. It was like exploring a haunted house except the ghosts were real and there’s a psychic force slowly driving you insane. Also it’s pitch black and you can get lost really easily.” — Innalibra

2. Outlast

“Outlast and Alien Isolation gave me so much anxiety I had to stop playing them.

I managed to complete Outlast and Outlast 2, but I haven’t touched Alien in years. There’s no way I’m going through 20 hours of that shit.” — HearTheEkko

3. Eternal Darkness: Sanity’s Requiem

“That game fucked with your head so much using the sanity meter. For those that haven’t played it here are some of things that would happen:

When entering a room, the character may turn into a Zombie, and ‘die’ a moment later or after going through some doors.

Attempting to cast Recover may cause the character’s torso to explode, resulting in a (fake) death of the character.

When entering a room, the character’s limbs may explode in a systematic order, going for the head, the arms and then the torso, resulting in a (fake) death of the character.

When entering a room, the character may shrink or grow while moving. This is most commonly seen in the strange curved corridors of the Forbidden City.

When entering a room and when holding a gun, the character can shoot at nothing at random times or turn around and shoot at the camera leaving a fake bullet hole in the screen. (Similiar to the Prologue of the James Bond movies, and in Resident Evil 2.)

When attempting to reload a gun, it may go off in the character’s stomach, resulting in a (fake) death of the character. This is most prominent in Max’s chapter, for he is the only one without a bigger gun than his flintlock pistols. Revolvers in other chapters have been known to cause this phenomenon to occur as well.

When entering a room, the character’s head falls off (but can be picked up), and levitates on screen reciting ‘HAMLET’.

The screen goes black, as if the TV went off.

Bugs may appear to be crawling on the TV screen.

The game will lower the gameplay volume while displaying a green volume bar, similar to real on-screen TV settings.

The screen goes black and changes to video mode, and you will hear your character getting eaten until they ‘die’. (Even without a ‘Break Free’ control stick, the unseen Zombie can still be pushed away)

A false sneak-preview of a sequel to the game, called ‘Eternal Darkness: Sanity’s Redemption’ (the original planned sequel to ‘Sanity’s Requiem’) will appear.

Upon saving your game, a message will say, ‘Are you sure you want to delete all of your Saved Games?’ If you say yes or no, the saved files will be ‘deleted’.

A ‘Blue Screen of Death’ will appear.

You will see the image you see when you start up or reset the game, quoting Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘The Raven’ in Edward Roivas’ voice.

When the controller is left idle long enough, a still ‘screensaver’ shot of Pious will appear on the screen until a button is pressed.

When you open your inventory screen, all your inventory spaces appear empty.

When entering a room, the character may be unable to move or attack, and the player will get a fake system message telling that a controller isn’t plugged in, while the many zombies attack them.

A fake screen message will appear, congratulating the player for finishing the demo of the game.

The camera begins leaning as the Sanity Meter lowers.” — -eDgAR-

4. Doki Doki

“My old roommate was playing this game and I thought it was some dating sim game. So, I left and went to play some game and I hear him yell ‘JESUS FUCKING CHRIST NO!!!’ and was like ‘yo, wtf dude you alright?’

I kid you not he was white as a fucking sheet and literally shut his computer (gaming laptop) and proceeded to go outside. I’ve known the dude for two years and worked with him for one. He hates going outside… But, not after Doki Doki. That shit made him contemplate life.

I’m scared to even buy the game if it did that to an anti-social recluse.” — xItz_Anthonyx34

5. Bloodborne

“Everything about Bloodborne is disturbing and eerie, the atmosphere, the monsters the unpredictability of the world itself, by far the most tense I felt playing a video game.” — Novasex

6. Until Dawn

“Until Dawn was pretty fucking well done. At times it was like they were trying to hard, but over all one of the best horror anything I’ve played/watched/read.” — murderousbudgie

7. Amnesia

“I got a cracked version of Amnesia from a friend.

Loaded it, stepped into the main hall, heard scary noises. Have never played again.” — iKILLcarrots

8. Condemned: Criminal Origins

“There is no game that has filled me with a worse sense of dread than Condemned: Criminal Origins.

Yes, the graphics aren’t great and there are a few things that aren’t great, such as the story or a couple levels, but still. I have yet to play a game that has such a good sense of suspense, dread, and fear of the unknown.

It has such good enemy reveals, such as the mannequins in the department store. Or the starving corrupted beings in the sewer.

It uses audio and visuals perfectly, and has very good foreshadowing, such as how you can sometimes look behind you and catch a glimpse of the late game enemies, or how it purposefully misleads you for things such as the locker jumpscare, or how SKX isn’t The Match Maker.

Overall, C:CO is a phenomenal game and I highly suggest everyone to play it if they want a great psychological horror game.” — PhReAkOuTz

9. Subnautica

“I’ve played a ton of horror games – my roommate and I went on a kick where we’d stream ourselves playing every horror game we could find, from big names like Outlast/Outlast 2 and RE7 to lesser known indie games.

Subnautica has honestly scared me way more than pretty much every one of those. It’s just that feeling that there’s something out there, especially when you’re diving into new areas. I’ve literally jumpscared myself by accidentally driving the Seamoth into a tiny fish without noticing – there’s just way more chances to run into something unexpected that won’t be given away by the soundtrack or something else (most horror games really give away their jump scares).

Love that game.” — blay12

10. The 11th Hour

“I always remember the 7th Guest & 11th Hour creeping me out. The way the games gradually descended into the eerie parts made it more disturbing than games that start right out with the horror and jump scares.” — wj333

11. Silent Hill

“They might not hold up as well now but I remember being scared shitless playing the first Fatal Frame and Silent Hill games as a kid sitting in the dark down in my basement.” — TheLastSpoonBender

12. Dying Light

“Playing Dying Light at like 1 in the morning. Especially when you got to the point when the running zombies were introduced.” — PM_ME_UR_BOOBSICLES

13. Gone Home

“Gone Home. I was so sure my dead sister’s corpse was going to suddenly tap me on the shoulder. Especially down in that stupid basement. I sprinted to all those lamps immediately.” — olive1112

14. Doom 3

“Probably Doom 3, especially in that dark corridor where the babies were crying.” — DejectedHead

15. Riven

“I remember playing this game as a kid and being absolutely terrified when the wahrk swims up to the window. I could never figure out why everything about the game made me feel so creeped out and uncomfortable but I think [the] emptiness and isolation was what did it.” — JosefGordonLightfoot

16. Dead Space

“The Dead Space series, especially the first game. That game made me jump so many damn times. I loved it!” — nope_noperstein

17. Parasite EVE

“Parasite EVE for PS1.

Playing it as a kid probably has something to do with why it was so scary to me, but seeing people infected with a sentient parasite and grotesquely mutating was pretty intense.” — Serukaizen

18. Manhunt

“Manhunt, that shit was pretty intense when it first came out… Using things like piano wire to not only choke people to death, but to actually saw the guys head off…

Also came with classic lines such as ‘I can smell the shit in your pants’ whilst being hunted.” — Jee187

19. Penumbra: Overture

“Penumbra: Overture is scary shit, and has a terrific story as well. The entire series is great, although Requiem is more like added content than anything.

The SCP games were super low fi but actually pretty terrifying, too.” — ZeusAmmon

20. SCP Containment Breach

“SCP Containment Breach. I am not trying to sound like a manly badass but there are few horror games that can scare me in the same way as SCP Containment Breach. I always quit the game early because I get scared of the sculpture and don’t feel like playing after that.” — Edgyfaggot6969666

21. Half Life

“I couldn’t play Half Life. Never even saw the first enemy. The sounds and suspense stressed me out too much. Dead Space got me too. I’ve played plenty of horror games but couldn’t do those. I’m sure there were a couple others between those two I’m forgetting. Just some of em strike me the right (wrong?) way.” — rectalstresses

22. First Encounter Assault Recon

“I enjoyed the creepy darkness and sounds/jumpscares in the F.E.A.R Series.” — Uppgrade

23. SOMA

“Have y’all played SOMA? It was good but everything freaked me out even days after I finished it.” — Shiruet

24. Resident Evil

“Resident Evil 7 is so disturbing and graphic. I had to look away so many times.” — ccr3ds

25. Spooky’s House Of Jump Scares

“Spooky’s House Of Jump Scares.

It starts off cartoony with the cardboard cutouts.

But it goes downhill fast.

And they keep doing the cardboard cutouts to keep you on your toes.” — Pasta-hobo

#Happiness

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