Bad Intentions

John Nolan x Original Character x Tim Bradford

Ch 1, Ch 2

— we’re severely lacking on the Tim Bradford and John Nolan fics so I made my own! —

Chapter One:

Genevieve Hart smiled to herself softly as she smoothed down her sundress, hoping that she would make the impression she was wanting too. She could feel her nerves heighten with every minute that passed. The door to their shared room swung open, revealing Henry with a tight-lipped smile, his gaze flickering to his watch.

"You almost ready babe?"

She took one last glance into the mirror, straightening her mother's necklace that gracefully adorned her chest and nodded. "I really hope he likes me."

Henry chuckled, his hand finding the small of her back before planting a kiss on the crook of her neck, her sweet spot, prompting a deep sigh at the initial contact. "My dad is going to be obsessed with you. Everyone you meet is."

A blush settles upon her freckled cheeks as she fought off a smile. "Well, if he's anything like you I'm sure I'll love him too."

He planted a lingering kiss on her cheek before giving me a tap on her back, his head nodding towards the door. "Let's head out."

———

Genevieve's hands nervously tapped against her bare thigh as the car pulled into the driveway. The house, a shining example of L.A. glamour, stood before them. Henry swiftly parked the car and leaped out. She paused, tucking her hair behind her ears in a deliberate attempt to compose herself.

Meeting a boyfriend's family was not new to her, yet this time there was an undeniable difference. She and Henry had been inseparable since meeting a capstone class three months prior, their bond persisting even after he dropped out. She quickened her pace to match Henry's as he strode toward the looming front door.

His fist curled as he rapped on the intricately carved wood, likely a testament to his father's past in construction before he donned the badge of a police officer a year ago.

Her reverie was broken as the door swung open, revealing a man whose presence seemed to command the space around him--John Nolan, Henry's father. She breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of the man before her, his rugged handsomeness striking her unexpectedly.

"Dad," Henry exhaled with a laugh as he pulled him in for a hug.

"Henry, it's so good to see you," John said as the finally released from their embrace, his body turned to Genevieve as if he just realized she was standing there. She watched as his eyes traveled down her body quickly before meeting hers. "And you must be Genevieve. It's so nice to meet you."

His arms outstretched for her to enter, and Genevieve immediately responded by stepping towards him and entering the embrace. "It's so nice to meet you too, Mr. Nolan." Her arms returned the hug, a comforting gesture that was met with an equal warmth.

"Please, call me John." He insists, releasing her from the hug. A fleeting sense of loss washed over her at the end of their contact. She offered a shy smile and a nod. "Please come in, both of you."

John held the door wide, stepping back to allow them entry. She let her gaze wander, admiring the beauty of the house. "The place looks great, Dad."

"Ah, thank you. A lot of work and a lot of money, but it was worth it in the end." John replied with a chuckle, clasping his hands together. He led them toward the kitchen, his every move captivating Genevieve's attention.

She was jolted from her thoughts as Henry's hand found her waist, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

——

The dinner seemed to stretch endlessly, and Genevieve's heart fluttered each time John addressed her. The unfamiliar emotions puzzler her; she had never experienced anything quite like it. Thankfully, the savory scent of John's roasted chicken and garlic potatoes filled the room, offering her a welcome distraction.

John leaned back on the couch, his arm brushing her bare shoulder, sending an unexpected thrill through her. "Henry tells me you're doing well in your classes," he remarked casually.

Genevieve nodded, feigning nonchalance while crossing her legs and placing her hands in her lap. "I'm managing. With finals coming up, it's a bit hectic, but I'll survive."

His laughter, deep and resonant, caused a pleasant stir in her stomach. "Don't stress too much. You're going to do great, I'm sure of it."

Henry, seemingly unaware of the undercurrents in the room, chimed in from his spot on another couch. "That's what I've been telling her," he said, his attention partly on his beer.

Genevieve brushed a strand of her hair from her face, fiddling with her necklace-- a nervous habit. "I'm trying to give myself grace, but the pressure is on. If I don't pass, the chances of me getting a good job are slim."

John offered a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder before rising. "Speaking from experience, you'll be fine either way. More wine?"

She was about to accept when she caught Henry's disapproving look. "Actually no, I'm good. Thank you," she corrected herself.

John seemed to pick up on the tension, his expression shifting subtly before he took the glass and headed to the kitchen.

Lately, Genevieve's drinking had become a point of contention between her and Henry. She believed she drank no more than any typical college student, certainly less than Henry, yet he seemed troubled by it.

As John cleared the dishes, she couldn't help but be drawn to the sigh of his rolled-up sleeves, the veins on his arms accentuating his strength. The attraction she felt towards him was undeniable, stirring a sense of guilt within her. She loved Henry, so why was she so captivated by his father?

Shaking off the intrusive thoughts, she refocused just in time to hear Henry's voice. "What time is your class tomorrow, babe?"

"Eight," she replied, her mind elsewhere. Despite having shared her schedule repeatedly, he never seemed to remember.

"I've got a meeting at 8:30, so I can't drive you," he said, distracted by his phone.

"That's fine, I'll take the bus," she responded, biting her lip.

John, driving his hands with a towel, offered, "I could give you a ride. It's no trouble."

She hesitated, the thought of being alone with him both frightening and exhilarating. "No, I couldn't ask you to do that. I thrive on public transportation."

John, ever the protective officer, insisted. "It's safer, and it's on my way."

After a moment's pause, she accepted gratefully. "Thank you, I appreciate it."

As John smiled at her, her heart skipped a beat. She watched Henry rise and head to the kitchen, checking his watch yet again-- a frequent gesture throughout the evening.

Genevieve trailed behind, her arms hugging her torso as she stepped onto the cold marble. "Well, Dad, we should be heading out. Need to make sure this one gets her beauty sleep before class."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes, a laugh escaping her as they embraced. John sent an amused glance her way. "Beauty sleep? As if she needs it," he quipped.

Heat crept into her cheeks at his comment, friendly though it was. It stirred a tumult of emotions within her, which she fought to conceal. With a nervous chuckle, she accepted John's embrace as he released his son. Her hands found their way around his waist, feeling unexpectedly right.

As she inhaled the scent of his cologne, a sigh almost slipped out. She managed a soft grin as she stepped back. "Thank you for having us, Mr. Nolan."

"John, " He corrected with a warm smile. "You're both welcome anytime. I mean it. Come by more often."

Henry responded with a playful wink, his arm encircling her waist as he guided her towards the door. "We'll do that."

With a final wave, they exited the house. She wrapped her arms around herself once more, casting a lingering glance at the impressive structure before getting into the car.

The Green Room - Ch 2 of 4

Showfall Media’s recasting process starts with a trip to the green room. There, cast members are offered the truth before the slate is wiped clean…

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 3

NIKI NIHACHU - RECASTING 29

“Hello there, Niki!  Can you hear me?  Hm?  Hello, hun, come on, look at me.”

Niki hears someone snapping their fingers.  Her eyes focus on a hand in front of her face, slowly, the room swimming into view and with it, fear.

“H-Hello…?”

“Hi, Niki!  My name is Dr. Smith,” a woman in a lab coat with a clipboard smiles at her.

“Where… I don’t understand.  What’s… what’s going on?” Niki asks, and as she does, she remembers.  She remembers that she remembers almost nothing.  Niki sits up sharply, but finds that she cannot move very far.  Her wrists are strapped down to a chair.  She scans the room, panic hot in her chest.  It’s plain, furnished with plush couches and the two padded chairs across from each other, one of which she is tied down to.  She turns back to the woman across from her, accusing and sharp.  “I… I was shot.  How am I here if I was shot?”

The woman laughs.  “Wow, you are quick, huh?  I always forget just how quick you are!  Yes, you were shot, but hair and makeup fixed you up!”

Niki struggles to process.  “That doesn’t… that doesn’t make sense.  I was… he shot me.  He shot me twice,” there’s a tremor in her voice, as this she does remember, of course, the pain of it.  She remembers screaming for help, begging because she was still alive.  She remembers the second shot.

“Our hair and makeup team is very impressive, Niki,” the woman says condescendingly.  “Welcome to the green room!  Here, I will answer any and all questions you have before your recasting.”

“My… recasting.  Because it was a role.  You… you forced us all to play roles,” Niki resists a shudder.  “That’s what this is, right?  That’s why… on the carousel, I… I acted different.”

“Right again, Niki!  Don’t miss a trick, do you?”

“And I… I want to leave,” Niki’s voice continues to shake, but she keeps trying.  “I want to leave here, and… and you won’t let me, will you?”

“No, Niki.  I’m afraid not,” she says with false pity.  “You’re a Showfall castmember, which means you belong here.”

“No.  No, I don’t belong here.  You people are crazy.  You killed me!  A-And somehow you brought me back, but you still killed me!  You’re sick!” Niki shouts at her, struggling against the bonds to no avail.

“Maybe,” Dr. Smith shrugs.  “Call us crazy, sick, whatever you like, but you can’t say we’re not effective, hm?” She says like she’s made some grand point.  “We entertain.”

Niki’s vision blurs, tears welling up, but she can see well enough to spit at the woman’s face.

Dr. Smith stands up sharply, wiping spit from her face with clear disgust, but her voice remains calm.  “I forgot you did that,” she grimaces.  “That’s my bad.  I should’ve sat further away.”  She proceeds to do so, dragging her chair further back.  She takes a deep breath, as if to force herself to calm, Niki watching her carefully, and sits back down.  “You know, Niki, you’re always one of our trickiest cast members.”

“What’s… What does that mean?”

“Well, you’re our… second newest member, but you’ve had far more recastings for your time here.  There’s always something, isn’t there, Niki?  Something always bleeds through,” she says it almost scoldingly.

Niki feels a shred of pride through the pain and the rage.  “Does that not make sense, considering you people love to make us bleed?” She snaps icily.

The woman smiles, amused.  “Sure, if you like.  Although, compared to some of your other… mistakes during the shows, this last one wasn’t too bad, I suppose, just the tears, and then you finding the Puzzler too early, quick thinking on his part, you could’ve ruined the game if you figured things out any further.  Although, I will say, your propensity for memory does make recasting easier!” She adds this bit of praise brightly, to Niki’s chagrin.  “You piece things together much faster than the others.  Hm,” the woman scribbles something down on her clipboard.  “We might have to start delegating you to smaller roles, making sure you get picked off sooner.  The audience voting for you did throw a wrench in things.  Normally the girls aren’t the fan-favorites.”

“Fine, then stop this.  If I… if I ruin things, then just stop using me,” Niki is torn between anger and pleading.  Her own words are what break her.  Just stop using me.  A sob rises in her throat.  She doesn’t remember, but she knows enough.  She knows she’s been trapped here for a long time, she knows they have hurt her, that they will hurt her, and she knows she is helpless to stop them.  Tears pour free, she curls in on herself as much as she can with her wrists bound, chest shuddering with aching, heavy sobs.  She pleads uselessly, meaninglessly, because she doesn’t know what else to do.  “I want to go home… please, please just let me go.  I won’t… I won’t say anything, tell anyone what you did, I just want to go home…”

“Niki,” the woman sounds so kind, so pitying.  “You are home.  As home as you can be.  And I know you’ll never make your peace with that, trust me, we’ve been down this road before.”

Niki swallows back her sobs, nails scratching at the armrests, digging in, as rage, grief, and terror all swirl inside of her.  “I know,” she says dully.

“Do you?  Are we already there?”

“Already where?” She mutters bitterly, staring at the carpet, scuffed and faded beneath her bare feet.  She’s in white linen, almost like pajamas.  It feels sterile.

“You remember our past meetings?”

“No, but I know they’ve happened.  I can guess that much.”

“I always forget how clever you are,” she laughs, almost impressed.  “Do you have any questions for me, Niki?  About your past, maybe?”

Niki thinks carefully, wearily.  “On the carousel, I… I wanted to live.  I thought if I won, if I got chosen, I’d get to live, right?”

“Well, yes, that was the premise of that round of the game, sure.”

“But… but that was a lie,” she does not bury the tremor in her voice, eyes shut tightly, a shaky breath.  “There’s no way out, is there?  There’s… there’s nothing to win.  We’re just… we’re just made to go on,  aren’t we?  Just over and over again, whatever you want?”

“It’s not just what we want, Niki.  It’s for the audience,” Dr. Smith says with reverence.  “We’re here to please them.”

“Well, they’re the ones that voted for me to go on, so.  Maybe they should vote on letting me go,” Niki tries feebly.  She knows it won’t save her.  She doesn’t want to talk about anything else.

“That’s an interesting thought, Niki,” Dr. Smith says dryly, unamused.  “So, any questions about your past?”

“Why would you give me answers if not to hurt me?” She says, soft and accusing, finally looking up at that woman, hatred and pain radiating from her puffy eyes.

“Actually, it’s to make all this hurt less.  The more you know, the less jumbled it is in your head, the easier it is for us to recast you.”

“You mean… you mean reprogram.”

“Sure.  They mean the same thing.”

Niki closes her eyes, taking a few more deep breaths, allowing her tears to go free.

“Niki?”

“I don’t… I don’t want to ask you anything.  I just want this to be done.  I don’t want you to hurt me, but I know I don’t have a choice, so I’d rather not wait, please,” Niki’s voice breaks.  She’s so scared.  She doesn’t want to be scared.  She doesn’t have a choice in that either.  She chokes on a sob.  "I j-just want this to be done..."

There’s a pause, Dr. Smith considering this.  “Alright, Niki.  I… I suppose you’re ready for recasting.”

When they come to take her away, she doesn’t struggle.  She's still crying.

Last-minute panics to do a task is real; it's a constant habit of mine and something you should, on a general note, never, ever, ever, EVER do.

I am, of course, talking about buying up any of the 3DS games I wanted before the eshop closes (as of this writing, tomorrow.) So the last two or so weeks have been a mad dash as I tried to fill my l'il handheld with whatever game that piques my interest. I can only hope I'll enjoy them!

So in fashionable alphabetical order, they are... under the "Keep Reading."

Attack of the Friday Monster! A Tokyo Tale: Just the sound of exploring everyday mundane life in a small-time quiet, rural Japanese town was enough to draw me in. The Kaiju battles that happens every Friday was just incidental.

BoxBoxBoy/Bye-Bye Box Boy: I already owned the first one and though I never finished it, I didn't feel particularly guilty about it. The whole series is one of those pick-up-and-play-for-a-few-minutes kind of puzzlers, so it'll still be there waiting for me whenever I feel the urge to return to its monochromatic world. I'm just relieved I don't love Box Boy that much to invest in the far-too-expensive Japanese exclusive amiibo.

Bravely Default: "You gotta play Bravely Default!" "If you like Final Fantasy, play Bravely Default!" "Hey! When are you gonna play Bravely Default?" "Are you gonna get Bravely Default?" "YOU GOTTA PLAY BRAVELY DEFAULT!" Jesus Christ, alright already! I got goddang Bravely Default! I swear, this had better be the JRPG equivalent of ambrosia. (Exaggerated joking aside, I do love JRPGs and am always on the lookout for any intriguing potentials from its massive library.)\

Crashmo: I mean, I already got Pushmo. I did pick up Stretchmo, but I'm not going to waste more money buying the packs that come with it. These are enough and like the Box Boy series, they're games that'll do on a whim.

Dillon's Rolling Western: Honestly, I don't care about tower defense games and even though this is one of the rare, new Nintendo IP (well, "new", this game came out a decade ago, which says a lot about Nintendo's reliance on tried-and-true franchises nowadays), I don't particular find the artwork or setting (I can take or leave westerns) appealing. I guess I'm getting it since it's a digital-only game and I'm not confident I'll see any of these ported or remastered to newer consoles anytime soon. Who knows, maybe I'll dig it. I'm also kind of kicking myself, because when I purchased Dillon, I thought I got the first game. What I accidentally bought was its sequel (The Last Ranger), and me being a stickler to try and play the very first game whenever possible, double dipped to get Game 1. So I guess I have two Dillon games. I guess. :/

Dragon Quest VIII: I have no excuse for this one. I have literally played the PS2 demo before it first came out almost twenty damn years ago, impressed as hell, and dead set on buying a copy when it came out. Then I got lazy. Then they announced the 3DS version and I was dead set on getting that. Then I got lazy. And now, both physical copies of the game went soaring up in price. Only now have I finally moved my ass and fulfilled a promise to my nineteen-year-old self to get this goddamn game. I've only played the DQ Builders series, so this will be my first mainstream DQ game... unless I get to DQ11 first, which I got for my Switch a while back. In any case, I couldn't pass up on entry number 8, the one that people cite as "one of the best in the series." Which... well, I can't compare since I'm both Dragon and Questless, but I am looking forward to a fun role-playing experience.

Ever Oasis: My criteria for getting most of these games were, "Will it be difficult to buy on ebay that it's just better to get the cheaper digital version because no one has heard about this hidden gem?" Hence Ever Oasis.

Fantasy Life: Ditto this, too. I've been told Fantasy Life and the one before, Ever Oasis, are JRPGs with farm/town management and I'm moth to a flame for both genres, but even more so when combined.

Kid Icarus: Uprising: Generally, I try to play at least one major Nintendo franchise unless I reaaaaaaaally don't care for its aesthetic or genre (Yeah, I'm good, F-Zero.) The bar is admittedly low for Kid Icarus since prior to the 3DS game, the series only had two games from nearly thirty years ago and I just do not have the time or patience nowadays to play a lot of 80s-era games. I'm fine if my only Kid Icarus exposure is the new version that comes with a hat.

Picross 3D Round 2/Pokemon Picross: My other criteria is to find the digital-only 3DS exclusive that may or may not ever come out in other consoles, such as the Picross series. I didn't buy all of them because there's like twenty dang versions. I picked up Pokemon Picross because it's free and Picross 3D because it looks neat and different from the 98% 2D versions out there. I fucking love Picross.

Pocket Card Jockey: I wasn't going to get this game because it supposedly came out for phones, but I couldn't find the damn thing in my android's store. So I just got it on the 3DS. I like Solitaire. And it was seven dollars. *shrugs*

Radiant Historia: Perfect Chronology: It's a JRPG that uses time travel as its gameplay gimmick, 'nuff said. I should play Chrono Trigger again.

Rhythm Heaven Megamix: I've never played a Rhythm Heaven game before, but I've been told if I didn't buy at least one, Rhythm Heaven will personally come into my apartment and break my kneecaps.

Rhythm Thief: The Emperor's Treasure: I've heard the game has some issues, but it's a Lovable Rogue thief wearing a sharp as fuck suit wrapped up in a theater's kid rhythm game. It was a thousand times designed for me and my aesthetic.

Rusty's Real Deal Baseball: Honestly, I think I just want it for the novelty than anything else. I'm aware this game will be totally useless come the 27th, but I don't wanna buy its micro-transcation-before-micro-transcation-were-a-thing mini-games, so I guess it'll remain forever in my 3DS as the little oddball that it is. I'm alright with that.

Yo-Kai Watch: Boy, I'm gonna really regret it if I only bought the first game in the series, end up liking it so much, and then crying because the physical copies of its sequels are currently forty billion dollars on ebay. I got to admit, this carries some serious Dubbed-By-4kids energy, which either means it's gonna be annoying or charmingly cheesy. But also, I kind of bought it because the game's art style got me nostalgic for 90s-era anime. It certainly looks fun for that alone.

I also got Demos for Chibi-Robo: Photo Finder (just to experience at least one Chibi-Robo game), The Legend of Zelda: Triforce Heroes (I've been told you can play by yourself, it's just not recommended, and since I'm a single-player kinda gal, I might as well test out the demo and see how clunky the solo session supposedly is), Bravely Second (sure, why not), and Puzzles and Dragons: Super Mario Bros Edition (suuuuure, why not?)

There are other 3DS games I'd love to get, but those are going to be physical hunts later down the line. Some I know will still be easy to nab (The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds), others probably shovelware that I can find in a bargain bin (Doctor Lautrec and the Forbidden Knights), and others ebay is selling at a higher price than normal, but I still might want (Warioware Gold), etc etc.

Regardless, I feel like I picked out a nice selection of games that will tide me over whenever I get the chance to play them. I guess it was, ultimately, a happy hunt for me. Buy physicals whenever you can. Don't be like me, who has to resort to digital-only for these games because I waited till the last damn minute.

...WiiU? What about the WiiU?

REVISIT: 13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim

13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim was a sort of “sleeper hit” game from 2020, an at-first perplexing release from studio Vanillaware, best known for their visually impressive beat-em-ups. At first brush, 13 Sentinels presents itself as two experiences; a science-fiction tactical RPG revolving around the piloting of mechs through combat scenarios, and a narrative adventure game revolving around the teenaged pilots of those mechs, laden with anime cliche. Doesn’t sound appealing? Think the title makes this game sound utterly broad, confusing, and generic? You might be relieved to know that 13 Sentinels is a lot more than what it says on the tin, and lying behind its thin facade is one of the greatest “mystery box” style works of science fiction there is.

For starters, the first “twist” you’ll encounter in 13 Sentinels is that the tactical RPG it marketed itself as barely exists. It exists, and is totally competent at offering a decent challenge when it sticks around, and does serve a pivotal role in the narrative, the climactic end point that all of 13 Sentinels’ plot threads work towards, but the reality is you’ll spend less than 10% of your time here, and the “core game” lies entirely in the narrative adventure. Sorry! But you should almost be glad to be tricked - what 13 Sentinels has in store in that narrative adventure mode is more than worth the price. It’s difficult to discuss, both for the reason that I don’t want to give away its many twists and tricks, but also for the reason that its sheer complexity would make the “plot” a difficult task to even put into a synopsis.

Like many great works of science fiction, 13 Sentinels revolves around conspiracy, its set of 13 playable characters working their way through a deluge of confusing and sometimes seemingly contradicting evidence to seek the answers to various mysteries, uncovering more and more of an understanding of “what’s really going on” as they do so. As you advance through 13 Sentinels, you’ll switch between playing chapters in its characters lives, which are independent but intertwined narratives where each digs into their own mysteries.

As you play through, your progress will be barred once you reach a certain point, requiring you to play other characters until you unlock the next step. This necessitates a nonlinear experience that plays into the “investigative” nature of 13 Sentinels - you’ll be left waiting for answers in one character’s arc like the cliffhanger ending of an episode of television, or you’ll pick up on something in another character’s arc that throws elements from another arc into a new light. It’s a unique and engaging style of play that breaks up what could essentially be a long visual novel, and almost functions similarly to a Sam Barlow interactive puzzler game - as a player, you’ll drift towards choosing and advancing whatever interests you more, and might have a different understanding of the “plot” because of that.

So, what “really is going on”? In short, 13 Sentinels is probably best understood as a send-up of all science fiction, because nothing is left off the list here. It plays with cliche constantly and effortlessly - mecha, time travel, alternate dimensions, cloning, artificial intelligence, deep space colonization, and even bizarrely magical girl anime is all either alluded to or directly used as narrative elements here. 13 Sentinels is a bit of a hay maze style narrative - you’ll think you have the answers to the puzzle box before realizing you’ve been going the wrong way for hours, having to turn around and start all over again. The game uses its structure expertly to keep you delving further and further into the depths of its questions, constantly searching for hints, daring you to try to stay ahead of the curve on what “twist” is coming next. Because it is so dense with “revelations”, the stakes can seem a bit too heightened and the circumstances too ridiculous at times - you have to meet it at its level, much like a science fiction B-movie. If you can come to terms with its wackiness, you can easily become immersed in it.

At times, however, the sheer amount of “concepts” can be understandably utterly frustrating, as you spend a great majority of your time with the game being strung along, waiting for the final act to finally clue you in on understanding just about anything that is “really” happening here. Still, I find that the way 13 Sentinels unveils itself in stages helps to assuage some of that frustration - you’ll feel accomplished completing a certain character’s plot even if you’re hours and hours away from the bigger picture.

Being a video game serves in its benefit - with the scale of hundreds of hours, countless lines of dialogue, so much can be buried within it. If you’ve ever known the joy of rewatching a film after knowing the “twist”, and seeing the innumerable clues scattered throughout helping lead you to the mystery, the same goes for 13 Sentinels but in bulk. There is just so much to sift through, and the game itself knows it. It presents an Analysis mode, allowing you to view a timeline of events, a lexicon of characters and concepts with the relevant information you’ve discovered alongside them, and just about everything you need to detective away, if you’re the type of player who isn’t content to be simply along for the ride.

Navigating that puzzle box with the player are the aforementioned “13 Sentinels”, the teen-aged characters that drive the narrative forward. The notion of such a large ensemble cast might seem a bit adventurous, but if you’ve played a similar VN-style game like Dangan Ronpa or Virtue’s Last Reward, you’ll recognize that the characters here are all grounded in recognizable anime archetype. In most cases, there’s unique twists or caveats to their personalities, but overall, the dialogue can be interchangeable with any shonen comedy. There’s exactly enough to them that I’d argue they would be “fandom-worthy”, and I could easily imagine a host of incorrect quotes style accounts assigning them dialogue based on which one is a dumbass and which one is more responsible, but thankfully, the game was too arcane and mysterious to take off with such a crowd. Still, there can be a surprising amount of depth or at least pathos to each of them, and as you spend so much time getting to know them, they can have one or two character moments that might really surprise you. Other times, characters won’t particularly surprise you at all, unfortunately, and the simplicity of some of these characterizations can at times be the weakest link in 13 Sentinels. There is also no shortage of, let’s call them, “odd” moments, revolving around the blushing nature of high school girls being sexually leered at - your comfort level with that will vary, particularly considering Vanillaware’s general history with objectification. I would argue, though, that on average, the writing tends toward capturing an essence to these characters, a very realistic humanity, lying beneath their shonen-personas, and the moments that their complexities shine through make them engaging to stick around with.

They also provide a very necessary humanity and lightness to the game. 13 Sentinels is very often funny, and probably more so than any similar work in its genre. The way these teenagers collide with a world of mysteries and high science fiction can be played dramatically, but is at times simply funny. One character, Hijiyama, raised in 1940s Japan, has so little frame of reference for the thing happening around him that his state of confusion and frustration with being exposed to the highest level of the game’s conspiracies generates the greatest amount of tension, which is finally relieved, hilariously, when the character storms away from his more plot-involved companion to eat three yakisoba-pan sandwiches in a row and pass out on a park bench.

13 Sentinels isn’t a perfect game, or a perfect story. In order to achieve what it achieves, it gets frequently messy, and I’m sure under a coldly analytic eye it’s rife with plot holes, confusing elements, and broad characterizations. But it offers a truly entertaining, and frankly unrivaled, sitdown mystery experience. This is all not to mention its stunning level of visual detail and polish, which shines not only in character and environment art but in the UI as well. It is a world that you’ll want to delve and delve into to get to the bottom of, and provides a singularly rewarding experience for those who choose to do so.

What they do

Another Shadow People AU fic!  Puzzler gets really close to giving Grian back to the Watchers.

Warning for manipulation and mild violence.

It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t!! 

Grian knew that if the Watcher’s got a hold of him again he wouldn’t be able to go back anymore. He would never be able to free himself of their grip on his mind.

He felt the pull of the portal under his feet, it was like they were calling him. They probably were,  he hadn’t been so close to them in a year almost.  

Puzzler held him up by the jumper, ready to let him fall. 

A sight far too familiar, as this had already happened once. But that time he was saved. He managed to grab onto the side of the portal, gripping so tight he hurt his hands and scratching the bedrock. His entire life depended on him not going to the other side and he was lucky enough his friends arrived in time to get him out and get rid of Puzzler.

But now he didn’t think anyone could reach him in time. He heard the tower shaking as some of the more aggressive shadows were making their way up the intricate tower. But he didn’t have enough time. Maybe a distraction could buy him some time but he didn’t know what to say. 

The shadow was far too smart to be tricked at this point. He didn’t know what to do. 

He wished he never summoned him, it was all a giant mistake, the worst of his life after joining the watchers. 

Was he such a bad person? His first shadow had turned out to be a living nightmare, hurting people for fun, and the second shadow was just an incarnation of everything he wished he could forget about his time with the watchers. 

What they turned him into.

What- What--

“I GET IT NOW!” Grian yelped as Puzzler’s grip on him started to grow loser. About to drop him in the portal to the watcher’s domain.

“Wha-”

“You-- You picked on the part of me that was scared of the watchers!” 

For an instant, all of Puzzler’s eyes grew wide. 

“You hear them in your head, right? They never shut up about what you should do and-- ” 

The Evo symbols flickered in and out of Puzzler’s eyes. Then anger made it’s way on his face, replacing the first surprise. 

“I’m not scared of them! I’m one of them!” The shadow hissed and almost let go of Grian, but the hermit held on tight to his arm. Looking at him directly in the eyes. 

“That’s what they told me too!!”  Puzzler growled and let his sword appear in his other hand. If Grian wasn’t going to let go he would make him. 

“That’s what they do!! They-They get inside your head!!” Puzzler raised the sword. Grian closed his eyes shut, tears starting to stream down his face.

“They tell you that you’re one of them, that you’re a god and everything you do is justified!! IT’S ALL A LIE!!” 

He was ready to slice Grian across the arm but hesitated-

HURT HIM.

WE WILL HEAL HIM.

WE WANT HIM.

WE WANT HIM. 

GIVE HIM TO US. 

Puzzler’s arm trembled but he didn’t let go of the sword or let it fall down on Grian. Feeling the migraine that came whenever the watchers screamed orders at him in unison. 

Oh? Orders?

He had never questioned it. 

Grian opened his eyes when he didn’t feel the sword hit, he saw something he didn’t expect. 

Doubt.

He kept talking, shouting, with the tears making everything blurry and confused. The only thing clear in his mind were the shadow’s eyes. 

“They make you do horrible things you would never want to and somehow make you feel like you did the right thing!! They pull you away from what you love to have you do things that they want while convincing you that it’s your idea!” 

But he did do the things he wanted. He… he did want all the things he did.

Right? 

He thought about everything he did up to that point. He wanted to rebuild the empire. He wanted to make it grand. He wanted Taurtis, he had even made the summoning platform- he- he-

He hadn’t been able to put more than two flowers there. 

The watchers always called him and put his focus back on Grian. On making a portal for him. On NOT letting him escape.

Puzzler felt his wings grow smaller, with the realization.

Grian kept talking seeing the effect of his words on the shadow.

“They made me do horrible things too and I felt like I had the right to do them!” 

Puzzler’s grip on the hermit grew tighter and the one on the sword grew weaker.

Almost instinctively Grian held tighter to Puzzler’s arm, digging his nails into his skin. Feeling his eyes burn with a long-forgotten sensation. 

Puzzler stared in disbelief as the purple Evo symbol appeared in his summoner’s irises.

How did-- The portal? Was just being this close to the portal awaking Grian’s watcher abilities??

The shadow’s eyes grew wider and scared suddenly, feeling as if Grian’s powers were trying to show him something.

He could fight it, he could let himself fall in the portal as well and avoid it.

But.. he found himself unable to move. Grian was the closest thing to a real watcher. 

He was a real watcher too, wasn’t he? 

WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DROP HIM.

“I WAS HORRIBLE WITH THEM!” Grian shouted. His words piercing inside Puzzler’s mind like a knife.

Tall horrible figures stared down at him. Wide smiles on their faces, pleased as their orders had just been executed. Grian felt proud of himself.

Puzzler let out a shriek as the memories of his summoner’s started making their way in front of his eyes, like multiple videos being played simultaneously. Like he could do with the memories of everyone on the server, but this was different, this was someone else forcing him to watch.

HE NEEDS TO FALL.

“I HURT PEOPLE! ALL BECAUSE THEY DIDN’T OBEY ME AND THE OTHER WATCHERS.”

He saw them, the pitiful players that tried to define the watcher’s rules. They burned to the ground. They cried. Begged. PRAYED FOR FORGIVENESS. THEY WOULDN’T GET A N Y T H I N G.

Why did he do it? why did he?? it- it wasn’t fair. Grian sobbed.

DISOBEDIENCE.

“I COULDN’T TELL ANYMORE IF IT WAS ME OR THEM WANTING THE DESTRUCTION”

Everything at his fingertips. Meteorites falling on who defined him. Kingdoms crumpling at his will.  No one was safe. N o  o n e. 

They laughed.

He laughed. He cried.

He didn’t know. 

Puzzler tried to push away the summoner’s memories, he couldn’t handle all these contrasting feelings, all these images. It was overwhelming. 

DISOBEDIENCE. 

“T-That’s why I was scared..” 

The horrible figures towered over him. He hated them. he loved them. hated them- loved them-

hate-

love--

afraid.

so afraid. 

leave me alone. I don’t want this. 

Puzzler’s grip on the sword grew strong again, his arm still shaking.

LET HIM FALL.

“That’s why I ran away from them!”

“Shut up.” Puzzler hissed. Unsure of who he was talking to. 

He let his sword go down with a quick hit. The stream of memories stopping at the sound of Grian’s pained scream.  His grip on Puzzler’s arm disappeared. 

Puzzler felt the migraine getting so hard he thought his head was splitting in two, his eyes-- Puzzler realized his eyes were closed. All of them. 

He had never closed all his eyes at once.  

“I didn’t know who I was anymore.” Grian managed to say with a shaky and low voice.

he was still talking.

He looked at him, shaking in pain and crying again for the deep wound on his arm. Now the only thing keeping Grian from falling into the Watcher’s hands was, again, only Puzzler’s tight grip on his jumper. 

LET HIM FALL.

Puzzler hissed at the Watcher’s words. Order. 

He stared at his summoner. Let him slightly slip down from his hand.

Grian let out a scared whine and asked one last thing.

“Do you know if- if you’re really you? Do you know who you are?”

He was-

A watcher! He was Puzzler! He--

He--

He wasn’t sure of it..

He didn’t want to let Grian fall into the Watcher’s right now. 

He wanted to put flowers on the summoning platform and nothing else.

“You…” 

Puzzler hissed, his wings spreading and growing bigger. Taking away all the remaining light that wasn’t coming from the portal.

“You make a great Watcher Grian. You went right inside my head! Good job.” A smile appeared on the shadow’s face.

“Look at the bright side! Once you’re on the other side you’ll be able to destroy this whole server out of frustration! Thanks for letting me see what you’re capable of with the right help.”

Grian’s blood ran cold.

“You’re probably right, you know. I’m aware I would be completely different if it wasn’t for the watchers. But you know what?”

The shadow pulled Grian closer, for a moment he felt as he could touch the border of the portal. 

“Unlike you, I don’t know how I should have been. I have no other starting point. Horrible horrible, but I don’t know anything else.”

In an instant, Grian was once again away from the solid blocks that made the border of the portal and suspended at the center of it. 

“So, unless you have the power to show me how I should be… Say hello to the other Watchers for me Grian.”

“O͔͎̯̖̩͕h̵̞͈̝̘,̳̭ ̠̞͖̞̠̝I̲̺̤̖̦ͅͅ ̵̖̮̤̪c͉̣a̹̥͢ņ̥̺ ̻͙̙̱̫͔̖f̮̫̩̱͠i̷x̰̺ ҉̦̣t͈͚͕͎͠h͚a̦̩̲̖̠͇͎t̮̳͇͕̕ ̯ḅ̸̤͔̺̻͚̰i̺̦͔rd̟̦b̗̠ͅr̶̥̳͖̩̩ͅa͝in.̻̲̖̺̹̱”

Puzzler reacted instantly, flying away from Abyss attack and letting Grian fall on the floor. 

Grian gasped for air and crawled as far away from the portal as he could, while the room was engulfed into complete darkness. He didn’t know if it was Abyss’ doing or his senses starting to give out. 

His eyes burned from using the watcher’s powers and he could hear their voices calling him.

Grian come back with us.

We want you.

We miss you. 

Just a few steps away.

“Fuck off..”  He muttered taking as much distance as he could. He could hear other voices coming from the room’s entrance. Other shadows? The hermits?

Then an ear ripping shriek came somewhere behind him, followed by a laugh that made his fear response go immediately to freeze.

“Got you…” 

Grian looked back. The darkness shifting and parting, like Abyss himself, was proud of having Puzzler in his hands now and wanted someone to see.

“Now, let’s see the shadow you were supposed to be.”

Blinding light filled Grian’s vision. The most horrifying scream ever heard made him cover his ears.

And just like that.

Puzzler didn’t exist anymore

Someone else took his place. 

“Welcome to the overworld little shadow.”

STEPHCASS FOR THE MEME <3

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

here is my personal hc. tim told cass about a girl. he didn’t tell her anything about the girl, just that she was woefully unprepared to be a crimefighter... but also she was kinda cute, in a totally naive way (90s tim was kind of an asshole, never forget). cass couldn’t quite understand what he was saying while he showed her the batfile on her---the picture of the spoiler, etc. but she got his general tone and body language. cass then sought steph out. for nights. nights looking for the spoiler. when she found her---she tackled her, immediately engaged her in a fight. she went so, so easy on her. she just wanted to see what a cute girl was. and steph... was definitely a cute girl. at the time, cass couldn’t talk, couldn’t communicate with her. but she left her a gift. a nice knife that she had throw at her head---deliberately missing it, that was... especially ornate, and seemed shiny and valuable, and most of all purple to match her costume. pretty purple girls like pretty purple things, right?

What was their first impression of each other?

steph probably did not think well of cass, at first. after that first outing---the batfamily got involved. cass was to help steph with her fighting. steph was to help cass with her speech. without the mask on---steph could see how much cass enjoyed her company. it was hard not to realize she had a sense of humor about everything. the laughter she had exhibited on a still-baby-at-the-time spoiler screaming her head off about what she thought was some kind of demon-ninja batgirl was... genuine, and not malicious in the slightest. she seemed to want to be friends, and every time steph frowned at her, or was a sore loser, cass simply smiled and laughed harder, finding everything steph did perfectly amusing. as they got to know each other---cass got better at talking, and steph got better at fighting, and they kind of, met somewhere on the outer edges of the middle for a while. there was always something standing between them--though. a resentment, not between them, but a misunderstanding. that cass belonged to bruce and the bat. and steph belonged to tim.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

i feel like conner kent at the very least shipped it. alfred really thought there was a spark between them, and during their brief frenemy stage---alfred made sure steph knew cass genuinely cared for her. bruce did NOT want them to get together at all, though. neither did tim, for obvious reasons.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

cass. it was love the first time steph managed to punch herin the face. did she win? no. but she GOT her. and through that tenacity, cass realized that her friend was so much more than a silly, pretty girl. she was a fighter. she was a champion. and more than anything, she was brave, and determined, and they had practiced a thousand times for just this moment. and afterwards, steph was just so proud of her overall failure instead of being herr typical loser.... cass couldnt help but know steph was always going to be the love of her life.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

they both did! didn’t want to ruin the friendship!

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

cass would get a curious look, steph wouldn’t believe you!

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

they would be a lot worse, a lot lonelier. steph never would’ve become batgirl, that’s for sure, and cass would’ve learned to speak---but in a way entirely removed from her own personality and love of herself & life.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

it was a mutual thing in ocean city, maryland. they were in a photo booth, sitting in eachother’s laps, leg over leg, they did a silly face, and then another silly face, and then their faces were so close---and then SMOOCH CITY, and they WOULD NOT LEAVE THE BOOTH lol.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

they considered ocean city their first date. but they’re not really the ‘dating’ types. they both LOVE to fight. they both LOVE to crime fight. they both LOVE spending time together doing NOTHING. if anything, the first time cass had to go to a gala with her was the first time they realized---ugh, do we REALLY have to be WAYNES? do we really have to have REAL LIVES? why can’t we stay in our cuddle - asskicking bubble forever?

What was their first kiss like?

it was the most natural possible thing, and it was something they had both almost had so many times before that it was like drowning in sensation after you had subsisted off of gerbil-cage drips of water for years. they couldn’t stop! they were consumed with want, and they only stopped when they started to get a little TOO frisky and somebody moved the curtain of the booth because they wanted to get their own picture taken and they were like ‘fuck! okay lets get french fries!’ lol

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

steph is cass’s first gf, and vice versa.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

cass is 5′7″ JUST tall enough to be taller than her gf >: )

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

cass will kill the puzzler or whatever the fuck his name is. he sucks. steph’s mom loves her tho :’ ) and well. the less said about bruce and steph the better, but like. your whole blog is proof of how much the rest of the batfam loves steph!

Who takes the lead in social situations?

they both are the ‘HAHA! THE ECONOMY!’ gif tbh.

Who gets jealous easier?

cass. steph is special cargo, the first girl / person she ever loved romantically, the first friend she ever had. however, cass has made it very publically known she wants threesomes with other hotties of multiple genders.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

CASS CASS CASS.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

steph, and she agonized over it, only for cass to say it so easily in a way cass didn’t think it would ever be easy for her to say. like steph is some magical fairy tale princess that lifts the curse on cass to never be able to express love the way love is supposed to be expressed. steph just makes things easy. she makes everything easy.

What are their primary love languages?

TOUCH. GAMES. QUALITY TIME. GIFTS.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

they both do they’re TERRIBLE.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

batgirl and the black bat are forced on seperate patrols bc they do this so much and they HATE it and SNEAK OUT and kiss ANYWAY!

Who initiates kisses?

cass!

Who’s the big and little spoon?

cass is big spoon!

What are their favorite things to do together?

they really like watching wrestling and kung fu movies together i think. steph also likes girly movies, but cass gets bored after a while and just starts wrestling with her over the popcorn and then wrestling leads to hankypanky. most of all they love fighting and dancing AND PLAYING PRANKS on the bat boys.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

cass is.

Who’s more protective?

CASS IS.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

physical affection.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

jenny - studio killers

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

they both call each other batgirl affectionately, cass also learns new words to say girlfriend and sweetie all the time and uses those.

Who remembers the little things?

STEPH.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?

they COMPETE to see who will do it first. they use the batcave to make sure the other isnt going to look for rings. and when they find the other one shopping for rings. its fucking GO-TIME BITCH. you’re not going to propose to me, i’m going to propose to you! when they pop out the boxes at the exact same time, cass steals the ring from steph’s hands and holds it up over her head and throws hers at steph’s head like ‘YOU HAVE TO MARRY ME FIRST. NO TAKEBACKSIES.’

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

it’s a big wedding. cass loves, loves people. it’s a whos-who, especially since cass is gonna be batman and she has all the justice league contacts now. cass turns a bit into a bridezila, but like, as a joke, mostly, and she calms down when steph is like ‘i thought we could be more intimate...’ lol

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

they adopt some bratty street kids that are tangentially related to joker / black mask / puzzler / lady shiva as a fuck you. they love their kids so much.

Do they have any pets?

so many cats. a million cats.

Who’s the stricter parent?

cass.

Who worries the most?

steph.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

cass.

How do they celebrate holidays?

they go to concerts!!!! big loud concerts where they can mosh!!!

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

cass! no school! just cuddles!

Who’s the better cook?

steph. cass doesn’t know how to, and also refuses to, fry an egg.

Who likes to dance?

cass most of all!

Good Omens - “Angel’s Christmas Wish” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Crowley doesn't know what to get his angel for Christmas. It becomes such an issue, it creates a time-loop, forcing Crowley to re-live the day until he gets it right. (2263 words)

Notes: Written for @theantichristmaszine  2020 :)

Read on AO3.

“Oh, Aziraphale … darling …” A soft pause. A hard swallow. “Look at me, angel … please …”

Aziraphale’s eyelids flutter open - nerves and self-doubt fighting to keep them shut. And they almost win. It’s hard to be seen this way - vulnerable, open, full of this beautiful demon who’s doing his level best to please him, to fulfill his every desire.

And he’s succeeding.

Which is why opening his eyes is so hard.

Opening his eyes would mean letting Crowley see into him, expose the fact that he wants this, everything about it - the sacred connection between hearts and souls.

The carnal connection between skin and skin.

But Crowley’s pleas to him are so sweet, Aziraphale can’t deny him.

He stares up at his demon, eyes glistening with tears.

“There you are,” Crowley whispers. “I thought you might have disappeared on me.”

“Never, my dear. I’m right here. I’m with you. And I always will be.”

Crowley sweeps a thumb underneath Aziraphale’s eye and collects a single tear. He brings it to his lips and kisses it away. Then he leans in and kisses his angel again.

Aziraphale didn’t know he’d started crying but he can’t help himself. It’s not a habit of his. He’s not a ninny. But this moment, this one right here, with Crowley hovering over him, arms wrapped around him, moving with him in a slow rhythm, is the most magical moment of his entire existence.

From where this night began to where it ended up, this is nothing short of a miracle in Aziraphale’s eyes …

***

“Dearest? Why do you look so glum?” Aziraphale asks, handing Crowley a glass of champagne. “It’s Christmas!”

“Of course, it’s Christmas!” Crowley grumps, grabbing the glass from Aziraphale’s hands and knocking the alcohol back in one go. “It’s always Christmas!”

Aziraphale stutters a laugh, staring at Crowley as if his demon has suddenly gone bonkers. “What on earth do you mean it’s always Christmas? It isn’t always Christmas. Christmas only comes around once a year!”

“Not for us, it doesn’t,” Crowley mutters. “For some strange reason, we’ve been through this over a hundred times!”

“We as in the world? Or we as in you and me?”

“The world! And no matter what, I still get it wrong!”

Aziraphale watches Crowley rearrange his legs underneath him on the sofa. He gets up and paces, then sits down again. Aziraphale waits a moment longer before he comes up with a response. It’s not Crowley’s words that give him pause. It’s the tone of his voice, his body language. What he’s saying may sound ridiculous, but from the way he’s behaving - taking an anxious lap around the room with his shoulders tensed and his hands shoved into his pockets, as if waiting for a bomb to drop - Aziraphale can’t do much of anything other than believe him.

“You’re going to have to forgive me but I don’t understand,” he says, fishing for clarity. “This is the first Christmas we’ve spent together. Well, spent together as a couple. There was that one year …”

“No! No, it isn’t!” Crowley interrupts before Aziraphale can derail the conversation. “I don’t know what’s going on, Aziraphale, or how! I honestly don’t! But this is the 132nd Christmas we’ve spent together! We exchange gifts, have dinner, go to bed, wake up, and it’s Christmas all over again! And I can’t figure out why!” Crowley drops onto the sofa and buries his head in his hands.

“Oh,” Aziraphale says, topping off his demon’s glass, then taking the seat beside him. “Well, that … that is a puzzler … isn’t it?”

***

“I love you, Aziraphale,” Crowley utters. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I …” He doesn’t necessarily have Aziraphale’s attention, but it’s like the words aren’t for him to hear. Just for Crowley to say. But in the quiet of the room, Aziraphale does hear them.

“You know, my dear,” he says into the crook of Crowley’s neck, “if you had told me a year ago that we would finally get to this point, I would have thought you’d gone mad.”

“I was going mad,” Crowley admits. “Every time I saw you, I dropped hints like they were breadcrumbs and you … well, you never seemed to notice.”

‘Hints?’ Aziraphale’s brow wrinkles, thinking back on their every interaction, every conversation, trying to discern when Crowley had dropped any hints of any kind. Aside from saving those books from that church bombing (which may have made up for any hints Aziraphale missed) he is pressed to remember a single one.

“They must have been subtle,” Aziraphale deduces out loud.

“I was trying not to be too forward. Demon, you know.”

“Yes, my dear,” Aziraphale says with a fond sigh for his ridiculous lover.

Crowley chuckles. Then his brow wrinkles as well. “Wait … did you say finally?”

“Yes. I did.”

“But that would mean you thought we would get to this point eventually.”

“You did, too. What with all your hint dropping.”

“No, I didn’t know,” Crowley argues. “I hoped.”

Aziraphale pushes lightly on Crowley’s shoulders, tilting his head to look into his eyes. “I knew,” he says softly. “Deep down inside, I have always known.”

***

“Do you have any leads?” Aziraphale asks, getting caught up in the excitement of this mystery, even as his poor demon wallows in the angst.

“I think …” Crowley begins, tapping his heel on the floor as he thinks “… it’s the present.”

“What about the past? And the future? If we’re repeating time …”

“No no no!” Crowley interrupts. “Not the present present! The present present!”

Aziraphale frowns. “What?”

“Present as in gift. My gift to you.”

“But I love my present!” Aziraphale gushes, putting a hand to his waistcoat pocket and retrieving the gift Crowley gave him. “This is a perfectly beautiful pocket watch! No little screens or beeping buttons. Just a simple, elegant piece of machinery.”

“That’s just it! It is a perfectly beautiful pocket watch! And it’s just the kind of thing you’d appreciate. But it’s obviously not the thing! Not the right thing! Yesterday, I gave you a perfectly beautiful book of poetry …”

“Oh! Who wrote it?” Aziraphale asks, eyes gleaming.

“Wat? Uh … Byron, I think.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale replies, slightly disappointed.

“Wat? Wat’s wrong with Byron?” Crowley asks, curious if this could be the reason why they’re here today. If he can find out what’s wrong with his presents, then he can get Aziraphale the right one and the two of them the Heaven out of this mess!

“Nothing’s wrong with Byron. It’s simply that … well, I like your writing better.”

Crowley scoffs in frustration.

Nope. That didn’t help him at all.

“And the day before that, it was a perfectly beautiful bottle of 1947 Cheval-Blanc. Every gift I’ve given you has been perfectly beautiful in your own words. But it’s not, because I wake up every morning and here we are again, celebrating Christmas! And I want to move on from here, Aziraphale! I want to go forward with you! How do I do that? How do I break the loop?”

***

Crowley’s body is exceptional.

Simply exquisite.

If Azirapahle didn’t know for a fact that Crowley had refined his corporation himself, he would say that Crowley’s body is the Almighty’s best work.

Aziraphale knows things like physical beauty aren’t supposed to be important, but the fact of the matter is Crowley has created a facade that is not only pleasing to the eye, but which fits his personality to a T.

If one wanted an accurate first impression of the demon Crowley, they would not want to look to his true form, but into the eyes and winning smile of this glorious creature.

Unlike Hastur. That rotting, maggot-ridden, gray-skinned ghoul with the soulless black eyes?

That’s who Duke Hastur truly is.

Aziraphale can’t stop looking at his demon’s body.

Not to mention the things he can do with it.

Aziraphale supposes that’s part and parcel with being a demon - knowing how to inspire lust.

But the things Crowley is doing to him, the way he makes him feel …

… Aziraphale, with his vast knowledge of human linguistics, can’t seem to find the words for.

There are no words powerful enough to describe the sensation of Crowley’s lips on his skin, or his hands feeling out erogenous zones Aziraphale never realized existed. These corporations they use to fit in on earth, they are so frail. So delicate from the standpoint of a supernatural entity. When he first got his, he had to take great care always not to harm the thing.

But that became easier the more he grew to love it.

Apparently God made up for the frailty of the human body by giving them this incredible gift of physical intimacy. And for humans especially, an intimacy with no purpose other than for two beings to simply enjoy one another.

And Aziraphale is grateful that he gets this opportunity to sample it.

***

“If you ask me, I would say that we’re stuck in a loop you’ve created, since you’re the only one who seems to know it exists,” Aziraphale says, sounding utterly nonplussed by the whole sticky affair. “Therefore, only you can break it.”

“But how!? What am I missing? What is the right thing? What do I need to give you that I haven’t given you already?”

Aziraphale looks down into his flute of bubbling alcohol and smiles a wistful little smile. “Oh, my dear, that’s just the thing.”

“Wat do you mean?” Crowley asks, poised on the brink of desperation. He may have created this loop, but he very much believes that angel holds the key to shattering it. “Wat’s the thing?”

“You don’t need to give me anything. Nothing you would purchase in a store, at least.”

“Wat … wat else is there?” Crowley asks, perplexed.

Aziraphale turns his body towards him, leans in a hair closer, and looks deep into his eyes. “Think,” he says. “A little harder.”

***

“I’m yours, you know …” Crowley whispers through a veil that sounds like tears..

“What’s that, dear?”

“I’m yours.” He sniffs. “Have been. For as long as we’ve known one another. No …” Crowley wipes his left cheekbone with the back of his hand. “No, since the moment I saw you standing on that blasted wall. It’s the most ludicrous, most inconceivable thing in the world for me to say. There were so many times I thought I was lying to myself. But it’s true. Ever since then, Aziraphale …” Crowley stops, looks at Aziraphale to make sure he hasn’t lost him in his confession.

The smile on his angel’s face tells him that’s not likely.

“I’m yours,” he repeats.

“How come you never told me?”

Crowley shrugs. “Would it have made any difference? You’re an angel. I’m a demon. We aren’t exactly a perfect match.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, my love,” Aziraphale says, putting a hand to his demon’s cheek. “We are a perfect match. And I know this because I’ve been yours as well … you foul fiend.”

***

Crowley shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, my dear …” Aziraphale clears his throat but tightens his jaw, what he’s about to say making him a bit uncomfortable “… at the end of any of these loops, have you made love to me?” He clears his throat again, his cheeks warming, glowing pink.

“Oh …” Crowley hadn’t expected that. He sits up, which moves him away from his angel - which wasn’t his intention “… uh … n---no. No, I haven’t.”

“Then you’re right.” Aziraphale dares to shimmy closer with his cheeks burning now. “You haven’t found the thing yet. Because, to be quite honest … that’s what I wanted. Th---that’s what I was hoping for.”

“You want me … to make love to you? For Christmas?”

“O---only if you want to. I would never assume … or imply … which is to say, I wouldn’t want to force you to …”

***

“Oh Gahhh …!”

“Don’t say it!” Aziraphale hushes, giggling. “The consequences of that could be disastrous!”

“I know, I know. It’s just … I think I understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Why humans call out her name … during sex, I mean. Making love … it’s kind of like praying, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale swallows hard, fear pooling in his stomach with the thought that now that Crowley has come to that realization, he’ll never want to do this again. “Do you hate it?”

“No. Not at all. Not so long as I’m with you.”

***

Aziraphale doesn’t finish his sentence.

Not because he falters.

But because Crowley’s mouth on his takes his breath away.

“I am … so stupid,” Crowley says against his angel’s lips, unwilling to leave his mouth. “I never realized. I should have told you,” he confesses between kisses - to Aziraphale’s mouth, to his cheeks, to the soft curls surrounding his face, “so many times. I should have told you how I felt. How much I loved you. And I tried. I tried so hard to think of something I could give you that would let you know …”

Aziraphale puts a hand to his demon's cheek, stares into amber eyes he has seen - and admired - hundreds of times. But now, he feels like he’s looking into them for the very first time. “You don’t need to give me anything. All I want for Christmas ... is you.”

It's been four months since I posted about not really playing games anymore and I thought it was time for an update.

(First, a quick refresher on the old post: I theorized that a big part of my enjoyment of video games came from them enabling me to focus my attention in a way that I normally find difficult, so once I started taking focus-enhancing nootropics this advantage went away and video games became much less appealing compared to other activities. Instead I started spending my free time doing personal data cleanup and related tasks.)

So, what have I been doing since then? A few things. I have been continuing with minor tasks on my personal projects when I can come up with good ones. They're mostly not the sort of data curation or "gardening" tasks I talked about last time because I've run out of those (though the good thing about the debacle with Sony announcing they'd close the PS3/Vita/PSP stores (before backpedaling) is that getting my Vita and PS3 libraries in order was a great few-days-long gardening task). Instead, I've mostly been making small improvements to my various web projects. For example, yesterday I added entries for "fun pain" and "perfectible" to the game design glossary on the main Pixel Poppers site, which had been low priority on my to-do list for quite a while. Maybe next I'll update the site's mobile layout to put the navigation stuff in a hamburger menu instead of at the bottom.

This stuff requires more thought than the gardening tasks, so it's less relaxing, and I'm having to figure out new ways to relax. Video games have slotted back into my life as one of several ways to relax but I still approach them very differently from before. I no longer look for "go places and do things" games or seek to feel like I am occupying a world. I want the experience to feel contained and not take up space in my brain when I'm not playing it. I want it to be something I can easily pick up for a bit and have it not matter whether I ever come back to it. I've found that what works best is low-context arcade-style experiences (racers, puzzlers, twin-stick shooters, rhythm games, etc.) or story games that can be completed in a single sitting (short visual novels or walking simulators like What Remains of Edith Finch or Wide Ocean Big Jacket). Games that are based on larger-scale progression, exploration, or worldbuilding (RPGs, 3D platformers, probably open world games - which used to be some of my favorites) don't do much for me anymore and I've bounced off a few of them in the past couple months.

So it's still the case that games are occupying less of my mental real estate than before and I have less to say about them. I might still decide to post more stuff here - I have an idea file with about fifty seeds for potential posts, though I don't know how many of them are actually worth developing (does anyone care about the weird variety of ways Senran Kagura has handled DLC over the years, for example).

But the truth is... I haven't gotten what I've wanted out of Pixel Poppers for years. This could be a much longer essay, and it's one I've tried to write a few times, but in short: Back in Pixel Poppers's "golden age" when I first started posting regularly in 2009-2010, I got a lot of comments and discussion on my posts and I felt like I was actually part of a great community. I mostly stopped posting in order to focus on my job and by the time I came back in 2018, the internet was a very different place. I got a couple of comments here and there (more on Tumblr than anywhere else) but I mostly felt like I was talking into a void, which was terrible for my motivation to work hard on quality articles. My impression is that the game analysis community has almost all moved to YouTube and if I want to be part of it again I have to switch to making videos and chasing YouTube's mysterious and fickle algorithm and I just don't. want. that.

Please understand: This is not a dig on my audience or intended to make anyone feel guilty. You don't owe me comments or anything else. If you're reading this at all, I am grateful and I love you! This is just about me facing the reality of what I'm looking for and what I'd need to do to get it in the current landscape. And admitting that the advantage that I thought Pixel Poppers had over other projects - an established audience - is actually much smaller than I was considering it to be.

So I'm also thinking about switching gears to a different writing project, one focused more on things that are at the front of my mind these days. Possibly just a general thoughts blog (which, admittedly, would sometimes be about video games). Possibly a blog about what I do for a living. Possibly making more small games (I'm pretty happy with how Detectivania turned out, after all). Or possibly reviewing all 800+ episodes and films in the Star Trek franchise. Maybe more than one of these things, bouncing around with an irregular schedule, and even slotting in occasional Pixel Poppers posts along the way. And I have to decide how connected I want these things to be - part of me wants people who enjoy some of my projects to easily be able to find the rest, but I also like that right now I can have my identity cleanly compartmentalized and only attach my real name to some things (and thus it's harder for someone who dislikes my take on Dark Souls to doxx me and dig up my bad/outdated takes on other more widely-impactful things to fuel a harassment campaign or whatever).

That's where things stand today. I'm not dead. I'm still gaming a little. I may make small posts here every once in a while but I don't expect to invest a lot of time or effort into it in the near- to mid-term future. And I may or may not announce other projects publicly here. If you have feelings or questions about any of this, feel free to shoot me a DM or an email or whatever.

Thanks for reading.

Behind the Mask: Gotham Ed, Gotham Fashion: Disaster

Inspired by one of the channels on the maribat discord, @stories-by-kat @maribat-archive

(You can find this on ao3 under ‘imshookandbi’)

Everyone in Gotham held their breath expectantly as the newest episode of ‘Behind the Mask: Gotham Ed’ began playing on their tv screens. Tonight was another Wayne Special, and nobody wanted to miss it.

When the first Wayne Special aired it was met with surprise from every busybody in Gotham, they didn’t think Bruce Wayne would ever agree to such a thing, considering he was big on his privacy, and they were expecting something boring.

How they were wrong.

The episode started like any other, the camera crew standing outside of the house of the chosen celebrity, getting a clear shot of the large estate, before moving to the door and knocking.

[[MORE]]

A few seconds later it was opened by Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne butler, and the camera crew was invited inside. Bruce Wayne stood nearby with a blank expression, before motioning to the foyer and beginning the tour.

His voice, while pleasant and charming, droned on as he explained the history of the house. People were just about to click off it with a quiet sigh of expected disappointment, when there was a loud crashing sound and Jason Todd, Bruce’s second oldest, came sliding down the foyer stair banister and almost straight into Alfred, who merely stepped out of the way at the last second.

The camera jerked towards the dark haired boy in surprise, who was face planted into the floor and groaning painfully. The camera turned back to Bruce, as if asking a silent question, when the man in question adopted a pained expression and pinched the bridge of his nose, before sighing.

It was silent as the Patriarch of the house muttered quietly, in a long-suffering tone, “We were supposed to act normal.”

After that it was all chaos, and Gotham saw first hand how crazy it truly was in the Wayne Family.

The people of Gotham demanded for a second episode.

The people of Gotham got a second episode.

The people of Gotham got many more episodes even after, much to their unrestricted glee.

The people of Gotham thought it couldn’t get any better, then enter stage left; Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Damian ‘I am a glacier personified’ Wayne’s sweetheart.

She wasn’t showcased until four Wayne Specials later, but even before then she was heavily mentioned. However, it was under the pseudonym (that wasn’t really much of a pseudonym, more so a loving nickname the youngest Wayne gave her) ‘angel’.

And an angel she was, nobody expected her to be French, nor so small. She first appeared when the camera crew was in the middle of filming, a tray of macarons in hand and an easy-going smile on her freckled face. She didn’t even notice the camera yet, instead she walked over to Damian, pecked his cheek, before swinging the tray over to him and saying with a heavy French accent; “Macaron, Dames?”

Damian looked positively gleeful before nodding and taking one. That was when Marinette noticed the camera crew, she looked surprised, but quickly recovered before walking over and, while looking straight into the camera with glowing bluebell eyes, said; “Do you want one too, monsieurs?”

It startled all but Damian, who was still munching on the little treat.

Gotham adored her, and loved having her in episodes. She wasn’t in all of them, mind you, for she was still French and thus lived in France, but that just made her appearances extra special. Everyone did wonder though how she gets over so quickly, considering the far distance.

That isn’t the focus, though. As the newest episode faded in, the title did as well. Gotham Fashion: Disaster, a curious name, but promising for it held the chance of having Marinette in it.

And having Marinette in it, it did. The first thing that appeared after the title card was the small French-Asian girl, however, what was new was the fact that she wasn’t smiling. A concerning and uncommon thing with the young teen.

She was enraptured with something on her laptop, her face was stoic and deadpan, but while her expression was void her eyes were full of life. One could think her eyes were made of blue fire, full of disbelief and anger and thinly-veiled disgust. The corner of her eye twitched ever so slightly, so small a blink could miss it.

The camera crew got closer.

Marinette didn’t even seem to acknowledge their approach, and as they drew in the glare on her laptop died away to reveal a full body image of the Joker in all his crazed glory. There was destruction and carnage at his feet, rubble and destroyed street was strewn around him like an edgy teen’s family photo.

Marinette was glaring at the man, more specifically his outfit, which consisted of mainly green and white and purple.

The teen seemed to notice the camera at that moment, wordlessly she looked up from her laptop, ever so deadpan, and much like her first appearance, looked straight into the camera.

There was no smile though, no polite kindness, nor a tray of macarons in her hand. Tonelessly, yet still full of so much conviction, she stated; “The Joker is a punk bitch. If I ever so much as see him I’m going to slap him with a mallet for the sole reason of looking like an eggplant dipped in green paint and powdered sugar.”

Then, she added, “How dare he make me look at him dressed like that.”

Her incredibly offended voice would’ve been humorous, if it weren’t for the fact that she just swore for the first time on camera. The camera jerked in surprise, and the room was silent for all but three seconds, before one of the men behind the camera said, very quietly, “Pardon?”

That seemed to be the opening to a pair of floodgates that happened to be so full the dam wall was cracking. Marinette twitched, before blurting out; “His outfit! It’s an absolute disaster! An insult to fashion! He’s a walking bruise that someone attempted to cover using a concealer that wasn’t even their correct skin tone! He walks around like that and expects me to be scared of him?”

An inhale of breath could be heard offscreen, apparently from one of the crew about to speak, but the young French-Asian woman continued on.

“Don’t get me started on Puzzler and the Riddler, I know green is a lovely color, it really is, but if you’re gonna walk around like a neon traffic sign then I’m sorry but you’re gonna get slapped. By me. With a ruler.” She began, a scowl planted itself onto her face as she crossed her arms, an unusually out of place expression on her features. “If they want, I will personally make them a new suit, I can make it green if they so desire, but under no circumstances is it going to be that shade of green.”

An opportunity must’ve been smelt, for a second later one of the camera crew members piped up; “What about the rest of the villains? And what about the heroes?”

Marinette twitched again, before bursting out into a outfit-style rant that only an experienced designer could manage. For nearly two hours straight Marinette called out each and every single villain and hero who resided inside and out of Gotham for their poor fashion skills and terrible color coordination. If they had some involvement with Gotham, they were free game.

Two-Face, the Penguin, Scarecrow, Mr. Freeze, Red Hood, Superman, Nightwing, Red Robin, the Flash, Aquaman, Green Lantern, Robin, no one was safe from her ire. She ripped into each and every villain and hero she could think of, each outfit was torn to shreds and rebuilt into something new. It was the hottest verbal fire the people in Gotham have ever witnessed.

“Then there’s Batman,” Marinette hissed dangerously as she neared the end of her rampage, her eyes narrowed in both terrible judgement (for Batman) and self-righteous, fashion fueled anger. “I’m going to have a talk with him about the first Robin’s hero costume.”

“Bright yellow. Stop sign red. And clover green. The first Robin’s outfit consisted of those three colors, two primary and one secondary. Robin was a walking traffic light, he wore elf shoes and didn’t even wear pants. I’m—” She cut herself off, taking a deep breath to seemingly calm herself, before continuing.

“I get that Robin was a child at the time, and he probably needed some way to keep an eye on him, but there are different ways to track a child and being a glowstick is not one of them.” She said, “Apparently, black is the only color he seems to know that doesn’t end in neon. Apparently I will need to teach him on this thing called the color spectrum, and that he needs to use it.” Her voice was full of annoyance and disgusted designer judgement.

“And the cape.” She said slowly, enunciating each word perfectly and clearly, such a small sentence shouldn’t sound so much like a threat, but it did. “Oh, the cape. Let me tell you something—” Off she went again, the young noiret rattled on every single disadvantage a cape had.

By the end of her rant everyone in Gotham felt significantly burned, even if the focus of her ire wasn’t pointed at them. The civilians of Gotham felt both embarrassed of and for their heroes and villains— well, maybe not so for their villains too much, but still slightly. At the most they pitied them. (Except for the Joker.)

The day the episode, ‘Behind the Mask: Gotham Ed, Gotham Fashion: Disaster’ aired was the day that one Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s inbox was flooded with commissions from heroes and villains alike.

The day the episode, ‘Behind the Mask: Gotham Ed, Gotham Fashion: Disaster’ aired villain activity decreased exponentially for a month as villains of all kinds scrambled to fix their suits and outfits.

The day the episode, ‘Behind the Mask: Gotham Ed, Gotham Fashion: Disaster’ aired was the day the phrase, ‘dress to impress Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng’ was coined.

The episode, ‘Behind the Mask: Gotham Ed, Gotham Fashion: Disaster’ became a new Gotham Favorite, and Marinette’s popularity inside the crime-ridden city boosted significantly.

Hello! One thing I love is what I would describe as "logistic puzzles" - think making a table plan for a wedding when one half of the guests hate the other half, or designing a schedule with tons of requirements, even B needing to be after event A and Sarah being available only on Tuesdays. Basically something that asks to take many elements into account to find the solution, if it makes sense. Would you happen to know a PC game to scratch that very specific itch ? Thank you!

There are quite a few simulation-style games that could potentially fit the bill, but a whole lot of them are grimdark survival sims and usually have zombies in them, which I can’t really recommend on account of loathing that whole aesthetic. Also, based on your examples I get the impression you’re more interested in the social side of play than in trying not to starve. So: here’s my rec list of logistics-based life sims that focus on social mechanics and aren’t about running away from zombies!

Battle Chef Brigade - This one has a shorter logistics loop than the other games on this list, without a lot of carryover between episodes. Short version: it’s a competitive cooking match-three puzzler, except you have to harvest your own ingredients by hunting monsters, whereupon the game flips to a side-scrolling beat-’em-up mode. Winning is a balancing act between the current theme, the individual judges’ tastes, and what sorts of monsters are available to hunt.

Black Closet - A board game style investigative procedural where you play as the president of one of those ridiculously powerful anime-style student councils at a prestigious boarding school. Most of it comes down to balancing the scarcity of minions with suitable skill-sets against your many objectives, though there are also light dating sim elements. Don’t go into it expecting a full VN experience, though; it’s much more about rolling dice than finding love.

Elsinore - A Groundhog Day style time loop VN about Ophelia from Hamlet continually re-living the events of the play, trying to find a version of the story that doesn’t end with everybody dead. What sets it apart from other, similar titles is the extremely deep state dependency; the game keeps track of what information you’ve shared with whom, every character has their own schedule that plays out regardless of whether you’re present or not, and you can’t be everywhere at once.

Long Live The Queen - A life sim in the mode of old-school dating sims (i.e., a strict daily schedule, loads of stats to keep track of, and lots and lots of ways to get a bad ending), except instead of trying to score dates you’re trying to learn how to rule a country. The bulk of play revolves around training yourself up in various aspects of rulership, a system in which everything from your mood to your wardrobe plays a role.

The Rainsdowne Players - A casual RPG about reviving a failing theatre company. Much of the gameplay consists of various twitch-based minigames; the logistical element comes not only in the form of the usual time and relationship management mechanics, but in terms of figuring out what people actually want to see, then stitching together suitable stage productions out of mix-and-match inspiration cards.

Recettear: An Item Shop’s Tale - If you don’t mind retro, this localised Japanese indie game may be worth a look. Here you play as a girl who’s converted her house into an item shop to pay off her adventurer dad’s debts. The economics mechanics aren’t particularly deep, but it’s a short enough game that they don’t wear out their welcome. Includes some roguelike dungeon crawling, but it’s almost entirely optional – you can theoretically complete the game without ever setting foot in a dungeon.

As for forthcoming titles, you might keep an eye on Hermina Lumen is Only Human, Mineko’s Night Market, Spiritfarer and Yes, Your Grace.

Shadow Over Seventh Heaven Review, Part I: Last Night I Dreamt I Went to Maljardin Again

Once, April Tennant had been the greatest screen star of all. Even now that this stunning creature was gone, the victim of a hideous accident, her name still cast a magic glow. And nowhere was her haunting spell more alive than within her great walled estate of San Rafael.

It was here that April had lived in her storybook marriage with famed actor Richard Morgan. It was here that her memory was worshipped still. And it was here that lovely young Jenny Summers came as Richard Morgan's new bride--to discover the terror behind the tinsel in this place transformed from a paradise of the living to a hell of the undead.... (inside front cover)

Welcome, fellow Strangers and all others who happen upon this post. This week, I have decided to begin a new series exploring the Gothic novels written by co-creator and first headwriter of Strange Paradise, Ian Martin, under the pen name Joen Arliss. Mostly, the purpose of this series will be to compare the plot and characters of Strange Paradise and those of his novels and what that may indicate about his original intentions for the overarching story of the soap opera.

I got the idea to start this series while writing my review of Episode 26, after the contents of an article referenced in one of the scenes reminded me of the events in this book. On his now-defunct website Maljardin.com, Curt Ladnier covered some of the similarities between “Here Goes the Bride,” the CBS Radio Mystery Theater drama from which this book was adapted, and Strange Paradise, but I wanted to dive deeper and do one of my characteristic overanalyses. So fly with me to the grand southwestern estate of San Rafael and together let’s explore Shadow Over Seventh Heaven--and let me warn you, there will be spoilers for the entire Maljardin arc of SP.

As noted above, Shadow Over Seventh Heaven is an adaptation of a radio drama that Martin wrote for CBS Radio Mystery Theater. CBSRMT is, perhaps unquestionably, Ian Martin’s most famous work. Created by Himan Brown in 1974 and running for 1,399 nightly episodes, Martin wrote a total of 243 (including many adaptations of literary classics) and acted in 255, typically in supporting roles. He continued writing and acting on the series all the way until his death in 1981 at the age of 69. Given my tendency to procrastinate, which sometimes makes it difficult to write just one episode review a week even when I’m not busy, I envy him for being such a prolific writer. I suspect that all the soap scripts he wrote got him into the habit, and he just couldn’t break it.

Even more extraordinary is that he wrote and published five novels during the same period that he worked on CBSRMT. His first was Nightmare’s Nest (1979), an adaptation of the CBSRMT play “The Deathly White Man” (and not the other drama, also by him, of the same name), which is his answer to Jane Eyre and which also has some interesting connections with SP which I plan to explore in another review series. Next came this novel, and then Beloved Victim (1981), adapted from “A Lady Never Loses Her Head,” which I don’t recall having anything noteworthy in common with SP, but I may need to re-read it to make sure. He also wrote two mystery novels, The Shark Bait Affair and The Ladykiller Affair, for the Zebra Mystery Puzzler series, but those are both very rare now and I haven’t yet read either, so I can’t say anything about them. The book Mystery Women: An Encyclopedia of Leading Women Characters in Mystery Fiction does, however, provide some information on their protagonist, Kate Graham, along with short plot summaries. As someone with two trunk novels from the last decade and about fifty pages of a third--which I mostly stopped working on after I started this blog--I also envy him for this. How on Earth did he find the time?

But I digress. Like that of “Here Goes the Bride,” the plot of Shadow Over Seventh Heaven draws heavy inspiration from Daphne du Maurier’s famous Gothic romance Rebecca, but with some major differences in plot and characterization. The novel fleshes out the radio drama some more, adding additional details and plot twists that aren’t present in the original play, which arguably make it more interesting. One gets the impression that he had a lot of story in mind while he penned the original drama, but knew he could only squeeze so much into a 45-minute radio play and so had to leave many of the most interesting details out.

But that’s enough background information. Let’s begin our analysis and see what Ian Martin’s later work can tell us about his original intentions for Strange Paradise.

Introduction

The face is lovely, matchless....

Opening like some gigantic and exotic flower as the camera zooms in...

It fills the screen, flawless, enticing....

The lower lip glistens, pulled away from those perfect teeth, trembling ever so slightly, promising undreamed-of delights for the man brave enough to taste its forbidden fruit....

The skin glows with an inner light....

The eyes beyond the thick fringe of dark eyelashes shimmer with the deep violet of a tropical night....

The pitiless exposé of the camera is defeated, no matter how close it probes in close-up....

This is beauty without blemish....

This is everyman's dream woman--sex symbol of the nation, and most of the world....

This is April Tennant!

Strange to think of her dead, for on the screen she is captured forever in all her vibrancy and stunning beauty....

Impossible to think of her lying, mangled and bleeding on the rocks, while the hungry sea licks out as if to possess her.

Incredible to think of her cold and in the grave. Which she has been for twelve months--or this story never would have begun (p. 5).

The first page of the novel introduces us to April Tennant, this novel’s Rebecca and also its Erica Desmond. Like Rebecca, she is the first wife of the protagonist’s love interest, whose tragic death will cast a shadow over her former estate. Like Erica, she was a famous actress--probably more so than Erica ever was--but the cause of her death is not the same as the alleged cause of Erica’s. In Episode 5 of Strange Paradise, Erica’s grieving husband Jean Paul claims that she died of eclampsia while pregnant with their son, although evidence uncovered by other characters in later episodes leads them to contest that claim. Instead, April’s death resembles that of Huaco, the wife of Jean Paul’s ancestor Jacques Eloi des Mondes who died when she fell from a cliff on Maljardin, Jacques’ island estate.

In this introduction, we also see what will become a theme of the novel: gaze. Not just the male gaze--the obvious POV of the introduction--but, more generally, the viewing of April Tennant almost exclusively through the eyes of other characters, both male and female. We never learn much about her inner life, even as we learn those of Jenny (our protagonist), Richard, and others. April is largely a mystery, a larger-than-life figure of ideal beauty who, in the eyes of the public, is more a legend than she is flesh and blood. It’s the same mystique that surrounds celebrities in real life that often makes other people forget that they, too, are human--if, indeed, that’s what April was. Or is there more to it? I guess we’ll have to find it.

Chapter 1

The first chapter begins with a detailed description of San Rafael--and by detailed, I mean that Ian Martin spends one and a half pages describing its wall, followed by two on the mansion itself. I won’t type out too many passages from this book for copyright reasons--for, unlike Strange Paradise, this book is still under copyright--but I will include some highlights. The wall surrounding the castle “was thick enough at the bottom to withstand any tremor of the California earth...topped by a corona of jagged broken glass and it ran for a mile and three-quarters in a great semicircle away from the rocky Pacific coast and back to it again” (p. 6). On its gate,

The ironwork swept and swirled in great balanced curlicues, and the frame was heavy and studded. The studs held great sheets of blackened steel, heavy enough to withstand a battering ram, blocking any vision of the grounds the wall concealed. And the vertical members of the scrollwork reared high above the frame of the door and the top of the wall in a bristling array of spikes, sharp as swords, arched forward to further discourage any hardy trespasser who might try to climb their height (pp. 6-7).

In case you haven’t already figured it out, Martin loved his purple prose. If you don’t like Byzantine descriptions of architecture, ironwork, clothing, or anything else, you probably shouldn’t read this book or any of Martin’s other novels. (Nightmare’s Nest is far purpler, however, than this one. There’s an entire chapter in there devoted to describing the protagonist’s lush Edwardian finery.) Fortunately for me, I love this kind of thing and will gladly devour description after description of gates covered in iron curlicues. My literary tastes tend toward “more is more” and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

We learn that San Rafael is a reconstruction of an old Spanish mission, commissioned by April and built in part by Richard himself, “who personally took charge of putting in all the glass that fronted on the sea.” The gardens that surround it give it “a riot of color--bougainvillea, hibiscus, passionflowers, trumpet vines--all enhanced and set off against the majesty of rows of carefully spaced Italian cedar, or Lombardy poplar” (pp. 7-8).

Despite all this radiant beauty--and as one might expect for reconstructed ruins from the era of Spanish colonialism--the estate is believed to be cursed, at least by “the superstitious peons who built the walls” (p. 9).  (That’s what the book uncharitably describes the Mexican builders--some parts of this book haven’t aged well, as you will see.) Two men died while rebuilding it, followed by April herself around a decade later.

Surprisingly, we learn at the end of this chapter that Richard Morgan’s background differs from that of Jean Paul Desmond. An actor himself, he “was king of the theater, and of East Coast entertainment. Their marriage was a royal one, and it vaulted both of them to new and undreamed-of heights of popularity” (pp. 9-10). It was this popularity that drove them to wall themselves in at San Rafael and use the police and guard dogs to keep rabid fans and paparazzi away--which, ultimately, didn’t work and only led to “a new wave of interest and snooping” (p. 10).

Chapter 2

Here we meet Richard’s sister Lisa, who is...well...quite an interesting character. She’s a beautiful woman with short hair, a deep voice, and--most importantly--an unusual, creepy level of attachment to her brother.

Cersei Lannister Lisa Morgan.

Lisa has just received a phone call from the Philippines where her brother is. The call has left her “literally stunned” (p. 11), which means that the modern slang meaning of “literally” dates back 30+ years longer than I thought. Surprisingly, she isn’t drinking wine to calm her nerves like Cersei above, but that’s her loss.

As she gazes at the ocean to the west, her housekeeper, Conchita Aguilar,  enters. Chita (as she is usually called) has not just worked as April’s housekeeper for most of her life, but also "she and her husband, Juan, had quite literally brought up April” (p. 13); as a result, she is fiercely loyal to the family of her deceased mistress. Here is a portrait of her:

Looking at the tiny woman with her bright button eyes, the black Indian hair swept stiffly away from her face, parted in the middle and tidily put away in a tight bun low on the back of her neck, Lisa was surprised at the sudden urge to go and take this familiar person in her arms--or better still have Chita take her in hers.[...]Chita might be tiny, but she was all steel and whipcord (p. 13).

Sound familiar?

Yes, Chita bears a resemblance to our beloved Raxl. They even have a similar background, for Raxl, too, comes from a people indigenous to Mexico, according to Episode 23.  Like Raxl, Chita is very old and has a mysterious magnetism that draws some people to her (which, in Raxl’s case, includes me). There are some minor differences--Chita doesn’t worship the Great Serpent, she uses gratuitous Spanish instead of gratuitous French, she has a living husband and grandson--but they are, in most ways, the same character. It’s clear that Ian Martin didn’t want to part with Raxl, and I don’t blame him one bit.

Also, for whatever reason, he was oddly insistent on both of them having a specific hairstyle. If you read the original script for the show’s pilot, you will see that he was almost as specific about Raxl’s hairstyle, mentioning “her hair tightly drawn over her ears to a small bun,” but less detailed about those of the other characters. Just an odd detail that probably bears little significance, but that I noticed.

Lisa tells Chita that Richard is on his way home with a new wife, a young, very wealthy orphan named Jenny Summers whom he met in the Philippines. This angers the ancient housekeeper, who argues that Jenny can never come to San Rafael

Because there is no place for her here--en la casa de La Señora! Everything here is hers--she still lives here, and will always live here. Her perfume is in every room, her pictures are everywhere, every ornament and ashtray and book I keep just the way she last touched it. There is no room for any other wife here! Oh, she will feel it, she will know it, because La Señora would never permit another woman to take her place (p. 16)!

Lisa insists that, despite the risk that Jenny won’t want to live on the estate and despite her equal displeasure about the situation, Chita keep an open mind regarding her and try not to be such a Mrs. Danvers about the situation. (OK, so she doesn’t actually say the last part; that’s just my paraphrase.) She also tries to pressure Chita into helping her take down the mementos of April at Richard’s orders, which she objects to, both for sentimental reasons and because they don’t have time to have the enormous fresco of April that adorns the former chapel. (Symbolism!)

“It was a breathless and yet terrible beauty. For any woman who stood next to it had to be eclipsed” (p. 20).

Yes, you read that right: they rededicated the mission’s former chapel to the silver screen sex goddess April Tennant. After their wedding, Richard had a giant fresco of her painted there in place of its former altar. This is a clear indication that one or more of the people in this household worship April, whether literally or figuratively. More than that, the portrait glows like that of THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES, and seems, like Jacques’ portrait, to be alive, the living essence of a dead person. “Most haunting of all was the feeling that this was the woman--that she could not have died, that any moment she would step off the wall, and her silver laughter would fill the house again (p. 20).”

I’m sorry, Jacques. ;)

Coming up next: Jenny arrives at San Rafael and tries to adjust to living on an estate where almost everyone but Richard acts like they hate her.

{ Next: Part II -> }

Game Impressions from PAX Aus 2019

Wake the fuck up, samurai. We've got a city to burn.

Every year I go to PAX Aus with some close friends to check out the Incredible Future of Games that everyone else already checked out six months ago, along with some cool weird indie shit and some awesome retro stuff. And every year, I write a little diary of what I saw to share my impressions with my friends. This is that diary.

Doom Eternal

Okay, let's get this out of the way. I played Doom Eternal pretty much as soon as I got on the show floor. It may shock you to know that it is, in fact, good.

No pictures of the demo units, sorry, so have this big logo.

The demo started with a little grey-box tutorial map just to teach you what you need to know for the demo level, since it was taken from the middle of the game. It looked very Snapmap-y and had some Doom 2 MIDI music playing. After that we were given about 25 minutes to acquaint ourselves with the lengthy "Mars Core" mission they've been showing since E3. I was at the start of the first arena of the hell bit when I ran out of time. :(

Here are some scattered thoughts from playing:

Your standard running around and double jumping feels much the same as in Doom 2016. The dashing feels great, although I think it might reduce your air control a little afterwards as I had some trouble overshooting a platform in the floating debris bit.

Climbing walls felt a bit weird to me. You have to press E on the wall manually to grab onto it, which feels a bit unintuitive when you're plummeting past it. Also feels a bit odd considering mantling up walls is automatic. You can auto-grab onto walls if you dash into it, but I think it's only for the first bit of the dash? Maybe I'm just bad at videogames.

I think the Combat and Super Shotguns now use different ammo types? I could have swore there were situations where I could select the Combat Shotgun but not the SSG.

The Chainsaw now no longer has even the slightest pretence of being a "real" weapon. It's now just a swing animation when you press the button, like a melee attack, before bringing your weapon back up.

When you have the SSG's Meat Hook attachment, a little meathook icon appears below the crosshair. When you're close enough to an enemy to grapple onto them, the icon floats over them, indicating that it has some kind of auto-aim mechanic to reduce frustration.

There was a monster with swords on its arms that acted an awful lot like the Baron of Hell (might have been the Hell Knight, looking at the Quakecon footage of the same fight) but it looked quite different. Looked fuckin' cool, whatever it was.

The platforming but in the debris section with the giant floating red barrels was actually kind of frustrating. It wasn't always clear where you needed to go, and the climbable bits tended to blend in with the rest of the world. Then again, keep in mind I have a frankly abysmal sense of direction. Thankfully falling into the void just whacks you for a paltry five health and teleports you back onto safe ground.

The locational damage stuff is really fun. Breaking a monster's guns has a satisfying metal "PING" sound to it to inform you that the dude got fucked up and is weaker now, and that you should keep doing it.

When I picked up one of those "?" secrets, the pop-up box told me that they unlocked "collectable dolls" and "cheat codes". The former is vague, but I suspect they'll be like the mini-Doomguys but of more characters. I'd imagine the latter will be like in Rage 2.

Oh, and it looks a million bucks, too. Though you probably didn't need me to tell you that.

All in all, I'm pretty happy with what I saw and it's even more of a pity it's not coming out next month.

Not Indie Games, But Also Not Doom Eternal

The Vive Cosmos felt really comfy - the lack of cabling and the decent display resolution made it feel a lot more natural than the Gen 1 Vives I've previously used. The game they were using to demo (Audica), however, was pretty lame. A rhythm-target shooter that didn't really take advantage of the medium at all.

Bleeding Edge was not inspiring. It was basically the control point mode from TF2 or Overwatch, except every character was a third-person brawler with little emphasis on projectile weapons beyond the occasional special. It felt like someone making a claim at TF2 or Overwatch's throne several years late while bolting a weak character action game on, which is fairly odd considering how innovative and critically acclaimed Ninja Theory's previous game was.

Dreams is fairly fascinating in its potential. The creation tools weren't available in the demo build so I can’t really judge them, instead there was a choice of eight developer-made experiences ranging from Mario-inspired obstacle courses to videogames as art.

I didn't get the chance to actually play MediEvil, but I watched some folks play it and it basically just looks like the PS1 game with more triangles, with all the slightly wonky 32-bit gameplay that entails.

The demo unit for Monkey King: Hero Is Back had some utterly bizarre graphics settings for some reason that made it look like I was playing a JPEG file, with big whopping compression artifacts surrounding each character. Weird!

Not happenin’.

Indie Games

Grabimals is a brilliant local co-op puzzler where players roll around as shapes and link together to solve puzzles like catching a falling water droplet, crossing a gap or casting a shadow that matches an example image. Supposedly it's still a ways off from release, but it's already impressively polished (disregarding one hilarious crash bug we found by accident!)

Hamster Scramble is a really fun take on Puzzle Bobble, with platforming elements, team play and the ability to jump over to your opponent's screen and fuck their plans up directly. It's an absolute blast and didn't feel like it was almost a year away from release.

Fork Knights is a platform fighter with an emphasis on one-hit kills. The character designs are cute, but I can't really say the gameplay itself struck me, to be honest.

Baron is an eight-player single-screen local multiplayer dogfighter. Fairly simple mechanically, but pretty fun all things considered.

Broken Roads had some lovely hand-painted art assets and some interesting ideas like a literal moral compass, but the demo build showcased was waaaaay too early to be shown off to the public. Of the eight or so areas present in the demo, only two had any characters, interactivity or really anything other than wandering around set up, and the combat side of things was extremely rough and sequestered off to a side area as a "well, if you insist..." kind of deal.

Misadventure In Little Lon is a true-crime adventure game for mobile with a unique mechanic - each "scene" is integrated into the real world via AR, with characters (that resemble Poser models more than a little bit) speaking to you directly. Not sure if it holds up over an entire game, but it's attention-garnering at least.

Speaking of true crime, The Black Window tasks players with using an Oujia board to question Australia's first female serial killer, with responses taken from court records and letters from the time. The well-acted performances of the actual individual in question's words lends it an impressive atmosphere, which the booth added to with a big wooden oujia board type thing you could "type" on. Sort of.

ACID KNIFE is real, real early, but the aesthetic is awesome and the pixel art is great. Hopefully it grows and expands into something special.

The Vigilante Proclivities of the Longspur is an oldschool Lucasarts-inspired point-and-click adventure with a custom demo scene set at an oddly-familiar videogame convention. Pretty promising so far, but could do with a good bit of polish - I'm pretty sure there was only one sound effect in the entire demo, and dialogue was often lacking in punctuation.

I didn't get to play Hot Brass but I watched over shoulders and talked with the developers, and it looked pretty cool. It's basically a take on SWAT 4's rarely-imitated brand of tactical copwork, but with a Hotline Miami-style top-down perspective, but with all the characters abstracted down to simple board game like tokens - a circle with a coloured outline denoting attitude towards the player, with a weapon icon if armed.

Blood Metal... Blood Metal is not good. It is extensively not good. Development seems to have only started in July, so one can still hope that the bad AI, unsatisfying gunplay, buggy collision detection and complete lack of damage feedback (outside of some ridiculous, sight-obscuring gouts of blood) get fixed over time. The 80s action movie aesthetic and low-poly artstyle forces it to be compared to Maximum Action, which is at least a fun kind of jank...

This Starry Void is a real-time, tile-based 3D dungeon crawler set in an abandoned spacecraft. It seems pretty cool so far, but it could probably use some UI/UX tweaks. The attempts at a "graphic novel inspired" visual style for the environments could probably benefit from looking at how Void Bastards did things, as well.

Lethal Lawns and Beam Team are fucking arcade games with massive cabinets. In 2019. Granted, they're also on computers and coming to consoles and stuff as well, but still! They're both pretty simple games, and therefore best played in cabinet form.

Unpacking is a "zen puzzle game" by the developers of Assault Android Cactus about the second-worst part of moving house, unloading an unseen character's packing and getting a glimpse into their lives as a result. I wasn’t able to play it due to an unexpectedly-crowded booth, but the pixel art is quite lovely.

Feather is a chill game about being a bird and flying around an island trying to find its secrets. I tried the Switch port, which played alright but obviously (and understandably) toted a lower framerate than the demo PC.

Topple Pop is a cute puzzle game that blends together elements of Tetris, Puyo Puyo and that one joke game that was Tetris but with a proper physics engine. Looks cute, with a fun gimmick!

Shooty Skies Overdrive is an VR spinoff of the popular mobile shmup, and basically similar to that one shmup minigame in Valve's The Lab. Weave your plane, which is attached to one of your hands, through incoming bullets and enemies like a toy! The 3D effect on the incoming projectiles looks great, but they can tend to get in the way of the action sometimes.

Dead Static Drive has been at like the last three PAXes and it looks better every time I see it. I hope it comes out this decade.

Snow Mercy is a third-person shooter/strategy thing where you hunt down icecubes to spend on an army of snowmen to crush your opponent's base before they crush yours. Not a common genre combo, reminds me of C&C Renegade a bit.

The Adventure Pals has graphics straight out of mid-2000s Newgrounds and level design out of pretty much any european platformer, but it didn't seem too bad from my brief prodding at it. The player character is perhaps a bit too small for my elderly eyes in Switch portable mode, but that's about as far as my gripes go.

BB’s Games Of 2019

2019 as a year felt like it lasted two years, and a lot happened in my personal life. Got a new job, learned to drive, got my first car, moved out of the in-laws’ basement into our first real apartment, started my first long-term game of DnD (which in itself has involved a new relationship and an emotional breakdown)- and between it all I somehow managed to play 77 games. Backlog’s down to 35 titles, lads- at this rate, I’ll be down to zero by July 2020. (Not gonna happen.) In 2020, I’d like to explore the SNES catalogue a little more, but before that happens we have to review everything 2019 brought me, in a somewhat chronological order.

- Near A Tomato Carry-over from last year’s post since I was in the middle of playing it at the time. I definitely never quite got a handle on the combat and I think some of the themes went over my head, but I still had fun here, and the 9S hacking minigame never got old. It was a gift from an old friend who I miss. Was nice to reconnect. - SSBU With my new main Zelda, I cleared all of WoL and got every spirit on the Spirit Board. I never really used her before but she’s cute now! Really liked the attention to detail in the spirit encounters. Unfortunately, Cloud is still in the game. - Mega Mans 1 2 and 3 I actually spoke about my experiences with the Mega Men in my BBLC post for Mega Man Eggs, so you should read that right now. - Metroid Samus Returns It’s Good. Like, a solid Good. Never Great, never Bad, just Good. It’s nice to see one of the least accessible games in the series get a remaster, but it feels very disposable, if that makes sense. Like they just needed a Metroid to keep people busy while they reboot Prime 4 development. AM2R is vastly superior, go play that. One point of amusement- the game tells its story without narration, and also seems to pre-suppose you know Metroid lore. I was entertained by the thought of a newcomer to the series being completely mystified by the sudden space-dragon that comes out of nowhere to wreck you at the end of the game. - Khimera: Destroy All Monster Girls You can click here to download it, ‘cos it’s free, which is almost criminal. This is one of the higher tier games I’ve played this year. A little bit Mega Man, a bit Metroid, with hints of Touhou and Undertale, it’s pretty tough at times but never to ‘precision platformer’ levels. It’s a lot of fun and the dev deserves your support. - Steve And Ollie RPG Oh, I made this one. Making something else next year? Question mark? - Prof Layton 3 Feels like these are getting weaker as they go along. The story has always been absolute boohockey, but the puzzles feel like they’re degrading in quality too. With over 200 in each game, that’s not super surprising, and I’m glad they didn’t bulk it out with a load of the awful block-slider puzzles. Still, it’s Layton, if you liked any of the other games you’ll like this cos it’s the exact same thing. - Fault Milestone Two Yo, there ain’t a damned thing I can say about Fault, so go play the first one and then play this and you’ll understand. - Full Throttle I never bothered to finish it. The obtuse old Sierra puzzlers were hard enough to deal with back in the day, and just feel kind of inexcusable now. I don’t have the patience for it. - eXceed 3rd Slick and fun bullet hell with a nigh-incomprehensible story and great music. Touhou fans will like it. Music by SSH who is relatively well known in doujin circles. - ASAMU Finished it before writing my BBLC post! - Eternal Senia Everything I said in my post rings true- do your best to look past the wonky translation, because there’s a heartfelt story underneath it. Very accessible gameplay, by design. - Inivisble Inc You have never before been, nor will you ever again be, so aware of having left a door open. I fully expected to hate Invisible, but I got hooked pretty hard. Quite tempted to do another run of it once the backlog is clear. - Pyre GOTY. Supergiant’s best game so far, and that’s not an easy thing to say for this Bastion veteran. I sobbed by the end. I’m not being dramatic- literally sobbed. Please play it. Music and writing and, just, heart, are all top tier. All the Nightwings are the best, but Hedwyn is the best best. - Ellipsis Finished it before writing my BBLC post! - Just Cause 2 I found myself getting bored very quickly. The main missions are all identical (really, they are) and the side missions are very uninspired. Blitzing around in a jet or grappling around a mission target is a lot of fun but it feels very shallow. There’s a lot to do but not really any reason to do any of it. I dunno, it’s a kind of hollow experience, that I nonetheless had fun with. - LiEat It went over my head a little, but that’s more on me I think. These horror-esque, eccentric japanese RPG Maker games usually do. But, it’s neat, and short. If this sort of thing usually sticks on you, I think this is a good title. - Shantae Pirates Curse These games always felt non-essential to me; I’m not sure why they never stuck. They never really go below or above Good. Entirely enjoyable but I don’t feel like I’d have really missed anything if I hadn’t played them. It is, however, absolutely worth investing in for the utterly superb sprite work. That doesn’t sell a game by itself, I know, but Shantae is a pixel art masterclass. - FF5 I’d more or less finished it by the time I wrote my BBLC post, so I don’t have much to add. It’s a refreshingly goofy entry in a series known for taking itself too seriously, even compared to its predecessor. Look forward to my entry for this game in my Games Of 2020 post, having played the Four Job Fiesta! - Touhou 17 It’s mid-tier in the touhou hierarchy, IMO. Didn’t set my soul alight but I did enjoy it. Playing as Wolf Marisa makes the final boss too chaotic to really enjoy, but playing through again with Reimu made it more fun. I beat Extra on my third run through, which gave me false confidence that after 10 years I might actually be good at these games- to then be quickly humbled by attempting Th11’s Extra. Final Boss’ theme song has one of the greatest lead-ins of all time, especially given you start the fight by running away from her! Also really loved the Stage 4 theme as you barrel head-first into Hell (the real one this time), and the haunting, calm-before-the-storm serenity of Stage 5, overlooking the City Of Beasts. - HackNet + Labyrinths GOTY. (Yes, I know I already said Pyre was GOTY; it’s my post, I can have two GOTYs. Make your own damned post!) It’s hard to say what I loved about these games without spoiling too much- just know that they play very much like investigation games, and figuring out the puzzles feels great. Labyrinths technically takes place during the events of Hacknet, with a somewhat more Black Hat approach to things- despite this, play all of Hacknet first, and then play Labyrinths. The expansion introduces a lot of new stuff and much trickier challenges, such that going back to the base game afterwards to finish that would leave it a little hollow- a disservice to how great the ending is. - Mega Man X I said everything I wanted to say in my BBLC post, and anything I didn’t cover was better said by Egoraptor. - Octodad Finished it before my BBLC post! - Chroma Squad The final mission is disappointingly poor, but everything up to that point was pretty good. Huge variance and creativity in the bosses. However, the most fun I got from it was when I realised the game allowed me to customise my team name, transformation name, and other such terminology. Dave, Dayve, Davy, Davina, and Dehve shouting “It’s time to Chromatise, Chroma Squad!” very quickly became “It’s time to shit, you bunch of fucks!” and it was funny every single time. (Personal favourite bit of dialogue- “I tried to shit! It worked!”) - Pyrite Heart Finished it before my BBLC post! - Starfox 2 Finished it before my BBLC post! - Burly Men At Sea Finished it before my BBLC post! - Disc Room Finished it before my BBLC post! - Kokurase Finished it before my BBLC post! Should have broken these ones up a bit! - Metroid Rogue Dawn Very, very impressive romhack let down by a distinctly un-fun final section. They managed to fix so many of OG Metroid’s problems, I’m surprised the gauntlet of terribleness that is Tourian escaped with only a cosmetic change. Nonetheless, it’s free, and the other 95% of the game is superb, even from a purely technical standpoint. - Wuppo I dunno what happened here! I was full of praise for Wuppo when I played it, but somehow I just couldn’t stick with it and just never felt like playing it. It’s a very aimless game, and I wonder if that might be why? It’s a shame, I feel disappointed in myself for not seeing it through, but ultimately I play games to have fun and I just wasn’t quite there with Wuppo. - Super Mario Odyssey I loved it, obviously. I wrote my BBLC post towards the end of my time with Odyssey so most of that stands- I do want to add that the controls always felt a little loose, like I wasn’t quite as in-control as I was in Galaxy. Also Mario prioritises walljumping over ledge-grabbing and it’s super-hard to unlearn that instinct after 20 years. Finally- Long Journey’s End is just bullshit. - Secret Of Mana Dropped it pretty soon after Finning it. There’s some logic to the way the game works, some kind of hidden turn-order system, that I could not at all figure out. My AI companions (useless, btw) would hit an enemy which meant I couldn’t, except sometimes the hit would still register but only actually go through 3 seconds later, without any way to tell which way it was going to go. It takes like 7 months for your character to get back up after taking a hit. It’s just, wonky, and I couldn’t solve the puzzle of how to make the game do what I wanted to do. - Pokemon Shield Still working my way through it. It’s- yeah, it’s pokemon. Get a similar vibe to Sun/Moon with it that it’s kind of unfinished- lots of small (and some not so small) parts of the game just feel like there were bigger plans that couldn’t be realised in time. I’m still enjoying it! They did a great job of making the gym battles, and the whole process of 8-badges-then-champion, feel like a spectacle. I think only the anime has managed it to this degree before. - Earthbound Man, I really, really want to like this game, but the battle system is terrible. I need to play through the game again buffing my party up with cheats or something, because it’s so unbalanced and cheap. Everything else about the game is wonderful, but I got so frustrated with the fights! - Mario Kart 8 Didn’t play any of the single player this time, it was midgi’s christmas present so I just joined a couple of multiplayer games. Absolutely baffled that the game features F-Zero style anti-gravity courses, has Mute City and Big Blue, and even has the Blue Falcon as a selectable vehicle, but they haven’t put Captain Falcon in it. Like he’s ever going to get another game of his own? Let him have this! - Carmageddon 2 It’s pretty clunky by now, being 20 years old, but still plays well enough. The physics are super loose so you slide around like your tires have been buttered. It was more fun when they were zombies instead of just normal people. Missions are brutally hard and should be skipped with cheats. - Neopets After 15 years of playing, I finally got a Ghostkersword. The site as a whole has gone through a lot, and certainly its heyday is long gone, but there’s no other game quite like it. I’m playing the Food Club every day, still. - SIF New phone can’t run the actual gameplay section well enough, so I just log in occasionally to grab free scouts. Here’s another one whose golden years are behind it, sadly, but I certainly still have a lot of affection for SIF. - FF1 Mobile version, which fixes a lot of the bugs with the NES original. This year I completed a solo run with 1 Red Mage, a 4-black belts run, a low-level run, and a 4 White Mages run (which ended up being a lower-level run than the low-level run). I’m fairly comfortable in calling myself an expert in FF1, now. There’s still not really any other games like it- build a party as balanced or imbalanced as you like, and see how they fare. I’d like to build my own game in a similar style, one day. - Re: Live Gacha games and RPG just don’t mix! Both gacha and events do not gel with core RPG mechanics of your character(s) developing in strength as the game goes. It seems impossible to balance the game well- do you cater to the whales who spend and spend until they have the strongest teams possible, meaning the free players or the terminally unlucky can’t stand a chance, or do you cater to those players and give them no reason to spend for the more powerful characters? It’s a shame, because the anime was baffling but in that enjoyable way where you just kind of go with whatever it throws at you, and exploring that in a non-freemium game with a solid beginning middle and end would be really interesting. - Tiny Thief Mobile game that’s not available any more, I think my BBLC post covered it well enough. - F-Zero One of the criticisms most commonly levied against F-Zero is that it wont hold your attention for long. While that’s true, it’s not like you have to make a purchasing decision about it any more- it comes bundled in with the other games you’re buying, so the only investment is time. Ignoring that, it’s still fun to burn around the tracks, and the sense of speed hasn’t ever diminished. The music, too, is underappreciated, with Port Town being my personal fave. - F-Zero GX I can’t believe Nintendo hasn’t done anything with this ridiculous universe for 15 years now. The cutscenes are so hilariously overwrought, and the cast of characters is huge! It could so seamlessly intersect with the Starfox universe, too. There were rumours of a Starfox Racing title some time ago, and I really hope that’s the case. It’d work so well (by which I mean, a particularly enjoyable kind of awful). Anyway, the game still plays great, Story Mode is WAY too hard, Dr Stewart’s theme is a Tune. - Stratosphere This game is from 1998! Build a flying fortress, deck it out with fortifications and weapons and power supplies, then use it to destroy other fortresses. I only ever played the demo as a kid, never got the full game. Took some cajoling to get it to work on modern hardware, but eventually I got in and it wasn’t worth it at all. Wow, that performance, apparently it was designed to run at a terrible frame rate and it wasn’t just a result of my 1998 PC not being up to the task! A shame, but I guess it put one of my ghosts to rest. - DKC 2 The best of the three SNES games, despite the inclusion (and protagonism) of Diddy Kong. Lots to love here, but the OST is top notch. - DKC 3 Not as good as 2, but IMO better than 1. There was a much heavier emphasis on gimmick levels in 3, not all of which hit their target, but does provide a great deal of variety. Consensus is that 2 is better, but if someone claimed 3 was the best DKC, I’d let them get away with it. - King Arthur’s World (SNES) Speaking of putting ghosts to rest… We somehow always managed to get this game whenever we got a SNES, and kid!Beebs most certainly didn’t have the patience for it. Adult!Beebs barely does, either. It’s a very ambitious attempt at some sort of RTS/Puzzle hybrid, somewhat comparable to Lemmings? King Arthur must make his way from his starting position to the throne elsewhere in the map to claim it as his own, using the myriad abilities of his soldiers to get him there in one piece. I decided this year that I was finally going to play through the whole damn thing, start to finish, for the first time ever. With copious use of save states and rewinds, I was finally able to slay this demon. For as fiddly and frustrating as it is, I would still say people should check it out if they have the tools to do so- there’s not really anything else like it, on SNES or otherwise; you’re guaranteed a unique experience, if nothing else. - Oscar (SNES) Terrible. - Spanky’s Quest (SNES) With a name like that, how could I refuse? It’s a weird little puzzler, aping (wahey!) Bubble Bobble and Parasol Stars a little. You’re a monkey who can blow bubbles that stun enemies, but if you bounce the bubble on your head it gets progressively larger and can be burst to send a barrage of similarly-sized sports balls at your opponents to knock them out. You know, just like real life. - Addam’s Family (SNES) This easily-dismissible movie tie-in is actually a very competent platformer with some very, very light metroidvania exploration involved. Gomez has to go through Addams Mansion and rescue the members of his family who have been kidnapped by… something. There’s hidden secrets everywhere and the family can be rescued in any order you like. Genuine recommendation. - Panel DePon/Tetris Attack The only vs puzzler I enjoy (yep. Not even puyo puyo. I know.) I played the HECK out of this in my teenage years, and got crazy good at it. Tendonitis says I’m not allowed to do that any more, but once I shook the rust off I was still pretty strong! It was released as Panel DePon in Japan and was fairy themed, but for the western release they replaced all the fairies with Yoshi characters and renamed it Tetris Attack despite having nothing to do with Tetris at all. Up to you which you prefer- language isn't too much of a barrier here. Soundtrack is killer. - Subsurface Circular Finished it before my BBLC post. Still not decided if I liked the way it ended. - Master Of Orion 2 C’mon. After playing three other pretenders to MoO2’s throne, I had to give the real deal a couple of spins too. It’s Civ 5 in space. Customisable race builds. A whole galaxy to bring peace to, by whichever means you prefer. Would love for someone else to get into it. - Touhou 8 Last minute entry I just played yesterday ‘cos I wanted some Touhou and I haven’t played this entry in a long while. A Solo Marisa Normal Final B run, if you’re interested. Kaguya beast-mode tearing apart the Spell Of Imperishable Night at the end of the game is still an awesome moment, but it’s a shame you can miss the last couple of spells if you take some unlucky hits. - And here’s the list of Bins, which are all covered in their BBLC post: No Time To Explain MoO Skyborn Jumpjet Rex StH 4 Ballistick Munch’s Oddysee Outland Project CARS RiME Magicka Waking Mars Urban Chaos Divinity: Dragon Commander Strike Suit Zero Hell Yeah! Lambda Wars Beta Stranger’s Wrath MoO 3 XCOM Lots more Fins than Bins this year! Good to see!

Trust Me: Chapter 7

Hey look! A timely update! Consider it a preemptive apology to everyone who loves Logan. 

Chapter 1 Chapter 6 AO3 Chapter 8

Warnings: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF TORTURE and JD is a high schooler. It’s relatively short, and marked by ******* before and after. But it’s for sure there. Oh, and some swearing.

Author’s Note: The German translates to “I speak German too, and I know you killed them.”

Word Count: 2190

Tag List: @ccecode​ @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn​ @ren-allen​ @ilovemygaydad​ @bloodropsblog​ @funsizedgremlin​ @raygelkitty​ @roxiefox23​ @thomasthesandersengine​ @spookyingarbageisland​ @band-be-boss-blog​

15 minutes passed before Logan broke the silence. "I understand that two members of the football team committed suicide two weeks ago. I know that you are new to the school, but it must be difficult nonetheless."

"Not really. I bounce around so much, I don't bother learning names or faces, let alone care about anyone. Besides, I heard they did it because they were gay and too homophobic to deal with it. No major loss there, in my opinion."

"That is… an interesting perspective, JD. I am almost afraid to ask about your thoughts on Heather Chandler's death."

"Sometimes even the shiniest of ivory towers are prisons, I suppose. One has to wonder, though, how much the bullying rate has dropped since she kicked the bucket. I mean, sure, one of the other Heathers is trying to take her place, but even she knows that she'll never measure up." He looked out the window and then back to Logan. "Hang on, I never told you where I live."

"I know where I'm going. What do you know about how Heather, Kurt, and Ram died?"

"If you say so," JD began, hesitantly. "Only what everyone knows. Heather drank drain cleaner, and Kurt and Ram shot each other. I heard someone saying that they used some special kind of bullets called ich lüge."

"Ich spreche auch Deutsch und ich weiß dass Sie sie umgebracht haben."

"H- how could you possibly know that? No one knows that. I was careful. I was perfect."

"Obviously, you were not. If you were truly careful, you would not have said anything about the bullets. You wanted to applaud yourself for being so much smarter than everyone else. You also would not have chosen such an emotionally-driven accomplice. I understand the appeal. We have a lot in common, JD. We both understand that emotion and personal attachments are nothing more than hindrances. But there is that one person who changes all of that. Who makes you want to know how to feel things. But ultimately, they will always choose their emotions over us. I was not completely certain that you killed them until you bragged about the bullets. Killing people who had been cruel towards your person, Miss Sawyer, aroused my suspicions. Rule number one of getting away with murder: only kill people to whom you are not linked."

"It's you, isn't it? The killer everyone's talking about. The Park Puzzler."

"That is the first honest and correct thing you have said all evening." Logan paused, considering JD's words. "Is that really what they are calling us? Disappointing, but not surprising. The best and brightest certainly do not go into journalism."

"You aren't gonna kill me. You said yourself, the first rule of getting away with it is killing strangers." Logan was filled with a savage glee, seeing the terror in his student's eyes, his desperate attempt to save himself.

"In most circumstances, yes, killing you would be a mistake. However, your father is known for leaving town and taking you with him unexpectedly. You have attended 10 high schools, I believe, and it is your senior year? Everyone knows that the killer is punishing people for their unpunished crimes, and how would a simple teacher know what you did? Especially one who does not interact with other teachers, let alone students. No one was around when you got in my car. No one has ever seen us interact outside of the rare occasions you showed up to my class." He sighed when he saw JD reach for the door handle. "Don't be stupid- there is no point in trying to escape. I engaged the child-lock this morning. You cannot open the door from the inside, and breaking through the window is difficult with only a fist for exceptionally strong individuals. Looking at you, I estimate that you have slightly below average upper body strength for an 18-year-old male."

"Well that's awfully rude, teach. So, I'm gonna die. Why? Why not just turn me over to the cops?"

"You are a young, white man who, when you want to, can be quite charismatic. The American justice system is skewed to protect people like you. Even that is predicated on the assumption that a prosecutor would take the case, which is unlikely, given how well you were able to convince everyone that they were suicides. Your kills were cold-blooded with very little motive outside of bloodlust, and you left very little to no evidence. Truthfully, I am rather impressed."

"And we're back to my question. Why do I have to die for doing such good work? You're a killer too. Why should I die, when you're no better than I am? If the papers are accurate, killing me will even up our body counts, so you aren't even better than me on that front."

"The quality of your work was admirable, but it was still wrong. You took three innocent lives, simply because you wanted to. I only kill those whose crimes go unpunished by the corrupt justice system. We are both killers, but my crusade is a righteous one."

"I still don't buy it. I trade in half-truths, straight-up lies, and manipulation, teach, and there's more to it than you're saying. You're gonna kill me anyway, and clearly we aren't to wherever it is you're taking me to do the job. Why not pass the time with a good old-fashioned villain monologue?"

"All will be revealed in due time. I have been reliably informed that people tend to dislike 'spoilers'."

"You're absolutely nuts. You know that, right? You're even more delusional than I am. And that's my self-harm of choice is fucking Slurpees."

"I find it interesting that you truly believe that your obsession with what is colloquially known as 'brain freeze' is less sane than your manipulation of Veronica Sawyer and the cold-blooded murders of your peers."

"Peers? That's bullshit. They were, at best, vapid instruments of the system."

"And for that, they deserved death?"

JD shrugged. "I would do anything to protect Veronica from assholes like that."

"As I would do anything to protect my sibling from a world that turns a blind eye to the crimes of assholes like you. We are at an ideological impasse. That impasse, however, is rendered irrelevant by my superior intellect. Ah, here we are." Before JD could respond, Logan reached across the car and emptied a syringe into his arm.

-

The first thing JD noticed when he came to was the rope around his wrists tying him to a chair. Struggling revealed that his ankles were bound as well, and the chair was bolted to the ground. He was surprised to find that he wasn't gagged. Looking around, he reasoned he could only be in a warehouse, and it was empty except for him and a video camera. He continued to struggle against his restraints, barely noticing when the rope burn broke his skin. He was also hungry, and his mouth felt like sandpaper.

"How long was I out?" JD croaked, unsure if anyone was there.

"Approximately eighteen hours. It is 2pm on Saturday." JD jumped, not expecting Logan's voice to be so close behind him. "You are in luck. Normally, Patton would take a turn with you before I do anything, but they are… otherwise occupied. You should thank me- you will be useless to them once I have started with you, let alone finished. I am saving you potentially weeks of agony. The last one took a week and a half to learn his lesson. Only then could I begin my experiments."

"Experiments? What the fuck are you going to do to me?"

"As many things as you can endure."

"Why? Why not just kill me and get it over with? Satisfy your 'righteous crusade' without wasting time."

"And waste the opportunity to study how much the human body can endure? I think not. In all honesty, I care about the cause far less than Patton does. As I said, you will be spared their particular brand of torture, both physical and mental. I can only imagine what they'd do to you, given the fact that you murdered children, despite being a child yourself."

"We were all 18. Technically not children. Why, may I ask, won't I have the pleasure of making their acquaintance? They sound absolutely delightful."

"I am not surprised that your listening skills are subpar. They have other business to attend to."

"They're with someone, aren't they? That's why you've got such a big bug up your ass about emotional attachments and me and Veronica. It's rebellious child 101, teach. Lash out to get their attention. You aren't the center of their universe any more, and it's eating you alive." Logan flinched, and JD smirked; he'd hit his mark.

"Those who speak of what they know find too late that prudent silence is wise. This is doubly true for children who know nothing." He raised a hand, cutting JD off. "No more talking. Feel free to scream, however. Your responses will be recorded on that camera," he pointed, "and further analyzed later. I tend to get… distracted in the moment."

Logan briefly returned to the shadows of the warehouse before returning with a tank that seemed to be smoking. "This, JD, is liquid nitrogen. You mentioned your fondness for cold-induced pain. Let us see how you feel about it in the extreme. And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest."

****************************

He put on thick gloves and an apron before opening the lid and pulling out a ladle full of liquid nitrogen. Very carefully, he stepped forward and slowly emptied the ladle onto JD's arm.

The first drops hit JD's skin with a sizzle, causing JD to flinch. That flinch quickly turned into convulsions and a scream he didn't know he was capable of making when the stream grew thicker. It burned. Every second was more painful than the last. He was on the edge of unconsciousness when the agony stopped getting worse- Logan had stopped pouring. JD didn't know how long he sat there, face contorted with pain, before he was able to open his eyes and look at his arm. He immediately wished he hadn't. From wrist to elbow, his arm was mostly violently red and blistered. What truly horrified him, however, were the areas that weren't red at all, but were an unnatural grayish-yellow.

***************************

"That is third degree frostbite. Those uniquely discolored areas should turn black over the course of our time together." JD tried to scream, to swear, to cry, but he couldn't. He was hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea when he tried to open his mouth. "Ah yes, that would be the shock setting in. Breathe with me, JD. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight." Logan led him through the breathing exercise until he returned to a slightly more normal temperature. "Well done. Keep focusing on your breathing; I will be right back with some first aid."

"Wh- why bother?" JD asked when Logan returned without his gloves and apron, carrying a first aid kit. "Why not let me die from this?"

Logan gently began heating the frostbite with a warm, wet towel before responding. "There are more experiments to run. Even if this was the only one I had planned for you, seeing how it heals is a crucial part of the process. My goal isn't killing you. My goal is observing how the human body reacts to and recovers from various extreme stimuli. Letting you die would be extremely counterproductive. For now, at least." Logan began wrapping JD's arm with bandages. "There we go. That should be adequate to keep you alive and will hopefully prevent gangrene. The point is to study frostbite, not gangrene."

"Why thank you." JD smirked the best he could, but even he knew that it was, at best, a pitiful attempt.

"You certainly are strong, JD. Most people would not dare being sarcastic in the face of their torturer. Drink this." Logan demanded, holding a water bottle to his lips. "Good. I suggest you get comfortable. I will be back tomorrow to change your bandages and check on you. Can't have you dying before I allow it."

-

Sunday

"Oh Logan, he's absolutely wonderful. He's so smart, kind, and handsome. He didn't even blink when he learned my pronouns! And he said the most beautiful things about Monet and Impressionism. Aahh, I wish I could stay and tell you all about it and him, but I have to spend some time at the coffee shop- between our work and Virgil, I haven't spent nearly enough time there!" Patton got to the door before turning around. "Oh, and I'd love to know what you were up to yesterday- I called, but you didn't answer or call me back. That's why I had to come check on you before going to work. I'll be back around eight tonight, okay? See you then!" Patton was out the door before Logan could respond. Eleven hours. Plenty of time to tend to JD and come up with a convincing lie.

The Witness (PS4) review

The Witness is the game that finally drove me insane. I see shapes everywhere now - circles connected to lines that wind their way around the sidewalks, skirting the eaves of buildings, through clouds in the sky and conspicuous smears of dirt on the ground. And as I try to comprehend the genius/madness of the development team that created a game such as this, I also feel like I see, for the most brief instant, into the infinity of the human mind, and the interconnected wonderment of the universe. 

I can’t, of course, but this game does weird things to your sense of perception. 

The Witness is a 2016 puzzle game, and one of the most mind-bending experiences I’ve ever indulged in my life. I tend to have quite an analytical way of thinking (and I can hear my uni colleagues sniggering at the memory of my poor work ethic and subsequent drop-out), and my girlfriend is a painter, and has a very artistic and spacial intelligence, so it needs to be said that I don’t think I could ever finish this game without her assistance, but with our two brains combined, playing The Witness together has become a superb, memorable, and utterly compelling exploration into the depths of our abilities as problem-solvers and lateral thinkers. 

After its release I was well-aware of all the praise the game was garnering, and yet whenever I decided to have a look at gameplay videos or screenshots I found myself distinctly unimpressed. All the puzzles were just boxes with lines, all the surfaces painted in eye-melting fluorescence; the game appeared to me to just be another small, simplistic indie puzzler that would occupy my time for a few hours before being left behind as little more than a pleasant memory. But I was wrong in my assumptions, and I believe that one of the game’s biggest flaws is that it’s almost impossible to get a true impression of what you’re in for without actually playing it. 

On paper, the concept is simple: you are stuck on a strange, seemingly man-made island that is essentially made of puzzles. Hundreds of screens litter the world, each featuring a grid, with some kind of shape or colour or marker that informs you as to the nature of the task, and while nothing is ever explicitly explained, you're usually led through a series of increasingly complex steps that both educate you on the mechanics of the puzzle, as well as challenge you to figure out how the rules have changed when they do. As you explore the island further, you’ll come to a greater understanding of the laws pertaining to each of the puzzle types, and more difficult areas will often require you to use your wits and intuition in order to recognise when and how you’re required to combine them to complete the task ahead of you. And it’s the game’s reliance on the player’s ability to educate themselves that makes playing and completing The Witness such an absolute and unparalleled joy. 

There were periods where Alice and I had been playing for hours and eventually got sick of bashing our heads against brick walls, and we would reluctantly check the wiki for a hint or solution to a particularly fiendish problem, but I always and invariably felt a sense of shame or guilt after this for having failed to put the time in to figure out the answer myself. So at a certain point I imposed an embargo on walkthroughs because we had reached a point where we were having to use all our combined experiences to find the answers, and if we cheated at that point, wouldn’t it just invalidate everything we’d worked towards up until this point? After a time we finished it. Quite quickly, all things considered. And that tangible feeling of your mind latching onto the thread of an answer and following it to a successful conclusion feels fucking amazing. Because it’s a rare instance in which you feel like the answer to any given situation is unfair - in the end, all it takes to unravel even the hardest of the tasks is for you to fully understand the mechanics and devote a bit of time with some pen and paper to finding the solution. I found myself wondering at the number of cumulative hours that this game must have lay idle on all the various consoles and computers around the world as the various players sketch out grids and work and rework solutions in order to get to the next point. I can only imagine the number lies in the thousands. 

This might make the game sound boring, or frustrating, and I can imagine that it will be for some, because this is no quick crossword - The Witness is, for all the elegance in its design, fucking hardcore. More importantly, it’s also packed with content - something like 650 puzzles, many of which you don’t need to find in order to complete the game, and some of which you may never even stumble across. So while some people might get some joy from waving their dicks around and crowing about how it was a breeze for them, for the rest of us the game will most likely be fucking exhausting at times. But I wouldn’t say that it’s ever impossible - each player will get as much or as little out of it as they choose, based almost entirely on how much mental effort they’re willing to put into it. You need to be constantly aware of your surroundings and of the way the world interacts with itself, because sometimes you’ll find yourself at a dead end for ages before simply looking down and realising the key to unlocking the puzzle lay at your feet the whole time, or perhaps a few steps behind you and to the right. And it’s the moments when you’re walking along and you see what ought to otherwise be an incidental part of the scenery - a jagged rock face, or a branch in a tree - forming a strangely conspicuous pattern, and the penny finally drops leaving you feeling like some kind of wunderkind, when really, it’s the developers that are the geniuses, and you’re just the sap who happened to notice a thing. 

And so it was after several hours that we started noticing patterns everywhere - patterns that often lead to nothing, but frequently they lead to the world’s inbuilt puzzles. I don’t want to say too much about it for fear of spoiling the feeling of finding it out yourself, but at this point we realised we were going crazy, seeing code built into every facet of the game around us. It was then that it became truly apparent just how much thought, effort, attention to detail, and finicky micromanagement must have gone into the creation of this game. It’s a wonder of a thing, and I doubt I’ll ever play anything like it again, but then I suppose that shouldn’t be a surprise for anyone familiar with director/producer/designer Jonathan Blow’s work on Braid, or with his regular participation in Indie Game Jam. Because The Witness feels like the kind of game that could only be born in that kind of off-beat and fevered environment - one in which necessity dictates that innovative products are born from simple ideas taken to extremes. I never thought that anyone could stretch the ideas on display here to the extent that they have been, and that’s why I wasn’t that interested in the game before I started playing it. It’s also why it’s impossible to tell you what it’s like to play The Witness without spoiling anything, other than to describe it in terms of existential experiences it has given me. 

In any case, The Witness has given me far more than I expected, far more than I had hoped for, and far more than it needed to have given. The hours spent working together with my girlfriend have brought us closer together (even though I’m a terrible controller hog), and tested our minds and our patience while entertaining, thrilling, and spooking us along the way. It’s one of the few games that I’ve ever wanted to 100% complete, and we’ll see if that happens, but I’m addicted to the feeling of achievement now, and I need my fix. Other than that, there’s simply nothing else to say at this point beside the fact that there is no game that I know of that is comparable to this. 

10/10

When the call came to say my mother had died, I was working on a jigsaw of Joan Miró’s painting The Tilled Field (1923-24). Like many others, I turned to jigsaws at the start of the pandemic as a way to manage stress, and symbolically reimpose order on a chaotic world. We take our consolations where we can and, as I continued with the puzzle in the days after mum’s death, its tactile qualities, the spicy smell of ink and card, and the small satisfactions of placing each piece where it belonged, grounded me when the world was in bits – both outside and within.

The Tilled Field is an elementally life-affirming painting. A view of Miró’s family farm in Mont-roig del Camp in Catalonia, it conjures a surreal collection of human, animal and vegetable forms, deconstructed and stylised, and heavily symbolic. Drawing on references from medieval Spanish tapestry to Catalan ceramics and cave paintings, the image is earthy, visceral and definitively a rural scene. Still, there’s something disquieting about the painting, as if it had emerged from a dream or the recesses of an unquiet mind. A tree grows a human ear and an eye; a cloud formation is also a weathervane; a piebald mare swishes her tail as her foal suckles at her teat. At its heart sits a tumbledown farmhouse straight from a dark folk tale. The smoke from its chimney suggests occupation, but the plaster walls are cracked and crumbling back to earth.

Since her diagnosis of dementia 15 years ago, my mother, too, had been disintegrating, as it were, piece by piece. At each of my fortnightly visits, some further part of her seemed to have newly dropped away, leaving gaps so raw and cruel that I sometimes had to remind myself to focus on what remained. COVID-19put a stop to my visiting the nursing home where she spent the final decade of her life. We tried FaceTime ‘get togethers’ but my mother was blind as well as in late-stage dementia, so these felt like one-way affairs – mum’s eyes half-closed, her face unresponsive, her body giving every impression of lifelessness. At the time of her death, I hadn’t seen her for four months, and her image had begun to fade in my mind.

Having a meaningful exchange with my mother involved delving into our shared narrative archive even as it shrank. In this way, we relived and remade the story of our life. We dipped toffee apples for bonfire night, rode donkeys on Llandudno beach, searched for the screech owl in the forest near my childhood home. Sometimes, my mother added to these memories as if they were lucid dreams she could shape at will. Meeting her where she was meant I had to map out the changing landscape of her dementia. Only there could we truly be together.

Three-year-oldswork by trial and error, but four-year-oldsuse the information in the picture to help them complete the puzzle

If maps are representations of a larger reality, then jigsaws are maps too. Indeed, they began life this way, as ‘dissected maps’. Invented by the British cartographer John Spilsbury in the 1760s, the earliest puzzles were designed to make geography lessons more fun for schoolchildren and, no doubt, inculcate them early into the cult of empire. They remained classroom aids until the 1800s, when their manufacture was made cheaper by lithographic printing techniques, the invention of plywood and the treadle jigsaw. Over the 19th century, what began as hand-coloured maps became printed images of monarchs and biblical illustrations, and by the fin de siècle, when the ideas of Freud, Darwin, Nietzsche and the ‘New Woman’ threatened to fragment the old reality entirely, jigsaws had become popular family entertainments.

Like childhood itself, the early dissected maps arrived without any paper picture to act as a guide. The puzzle historian Anne Williams notes that, in 1908, Parker Bros changed the game by adding a print of the complete image to the box. With uncertainty about the destination reduced, the path grew more enticing. By the early 1930s, with the Great Depression beginning to bite, sales of jigsaws in the United States topped 10 million a week. Enthusiasts queued at newsagents for new deliveries, much as modern lockdown puzzlers scoured the internet and traded in secondhand puzzles.

While there is evidence to suggest that jigsaws help older people retain visuospatial memory, a recent study led by the psychologist Martin Doherty at the University of East Anglia in the UK is the first to investigate how children use their understanding of pictures to complete jigsaw puzzles. The study found that three-year-olds work by trial and error, but four-year-olds use the information in the picture to help them complete the puzzle. Such an understanding of the language of pictorial representation is the foundation of the uniquely human ability to draw and create art.

It’s often said that old age is a second childhood. The similarity of the two states – the child immersed in their magic kingdom, the old person in their memory palace – isn’t lost on artists, scientists and thinkers. As the child emerges from the void, accumulating experience, making connections between things and people, so the old person divests themselves, or has taken from them, those same connections, before they return to the emptiness of nonexistence.

When cracks first began to appear in my mother’s memory, she frantically touched them up in a colour that never quite matched. Once touch-ups became insufficient, she began a programme of wholesale renovation in the form of confabulated memories, extending and reworking experiences that, had they been real, wouldn’t have passed building regulations. Though by now immobile, she’d insist that she had taken a long walk by the seaside, or run across my brother in a pear orchard, or just returned from holiday. The further her disease advanced, the less robust her attempts at repair became, as the supply of materials with which to build them dwindled. She once told me that her mind was falling to bits, which is what happens to everything and everyone eventually. We live with entropy. Yet how hard we resist it. Much of the human project is taken up with holding together things that will, eventually and inevitably, fall apart. Witnessing my mother labouring to put her brain back together was intensely moving. Her courage and resistance were flags planted in the territory of the living, and they deepened my love for her as she grew more frail. The lesson I learned is that it’s not memory that makes us human but meaning-making. That’s where the beauty and poignancy of human life is played out.

Slotting a familiar piece into its rightful place can feel almost as rewarding as returning a lost child to her mother

Art is a system of meaning-making too and, in the months since mum’s death, I have deepened my understanding of how it operates by ‘dissecting’ the map that is The Tilled Field. To complete the jigsaw of an artwork is to observe the artist’s work in a way that’s almost impossible to do in a gallery. You get to know it intimately, becoming familiar with every turn of the brush, each minute gradation of colour and tone. You develop an eye for certain patterns. Particularly ‘helpful’ or intriguing jigsaw pieces, that are vital sources of information, data points along the route to completion, take on the character of old friends. Slotting a familiar piece into its rightful place can feel almost as rewarding as returning a lost child to her mother. Over the weeks it takes me to complete The Tilled Field, its elements and some essence of the artist take up residence inside me, becoming, as the psychoanalyst Melanie Klein might have said, introjected internal objects.

This kind of dynamic encounter of projection and introjection with the world of people and objects is how Klein imagines the way an infant struggles to construct an integrated ego. If we’re lucky, Klein suggests, we develop from fragments of desire and need, frustrated or met, into coherent selves able to meet our own desires and needs. Whispering seductively in our ears all the while is Thanatos, the death instinct, willing us back towards the comforting psychic disintegration of not-feelingand unbeing. For Klein, coming into being is an existential battle. For some of us the drama returns, as it did for my mother, in the long, slow process of leaving life behind.

Klein’s one-time disciple Donald Winnicott had something interesting to say about becoming that seems important to me, standing as I am in the shadow of my mother’s death. For him, the mother is at the heart of everything – her willingness to hold, handle and ‘present objects’ to her baby, to lend him her ego for his own use, enabling him to see himself as a coherent being, separate from her (and thus able support a relationship with her). Only through her can he become whole and real. In the language of jigsaws, good-enough mothering is the guide-image that the infant requires to allow him to build an integrated self from the bits and pieces of his needs, his developing internal world and his body.

When, later, bereavement leaves us once more in pieces, when the mother who birthed us is no longer here, how do we put ourselves back together again? Where is the guide-picture to help us map loss when the world itself seems to be coming apart, exposing the insufficiency of the old rubrics for living?

The attachment theorist John Bowlby described mourning as a form of separation anxiety, akin to that felt by a child lost in a crowd. There is panic, disorientation, a shattering of reality. Freud thought that, in order to grieve healthily, we must sever our bonds with the dead, and establish new ones with the living. But even if that were desirable, cutting ties with the mother through whom one becomes a self seems to ask the impossible. Dennis Klass, an expert on bereavement, suggests a more compassionate model. In his view, there’s no ‘closure’, no turning away from the dead. The bereaved person doesn’t let go, but retains their bond with the dead by negotiating and renegotiating the meaning of their loss. This is the neverending task of grief, and it’s not without its consolations. My relationship with my mother remains alive for me, not simply as a fragment of the guide-picture I conjure of my life, but as a vibrant and evolving aspect of my internal world. When I speak to her, I’m addressing neither a ghost nor a memory, but the real mother who exists inside me, as all the versions of herself I ever knew. Death notwithstanding, our relationship continues to evolve.

And so back to The Tilled Field, and the making and remaking implicit in its creation – and also in my recreation of it as a jigsaw. To the decrepit farmhouse, the smoke rising from a cheerful fire, and to my image of my mother and me, warming our hands beside flames that, like us, are born and reformed in destruction and renewal. In The Tilled Field inside me, my mother and I talk quietly about our lives, or don’t talk but simply go-on-being, together, while beyond the crumbling walls, real life teems, strange and brilliant, as if in a dream.

- Melanie McGrath