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#desire just pushes all the buttons dream had and wanderer is a massive one
the-darklings · 2 years
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""A ring?" A slow, crooked smirk bites into Corinthian's cheeks. "Oh, now Dream will unmake me for sure.""
Everyone knows. Even Lucifer knows and explicitly said love. Of course Corinthian knows but I just really liked that interaction. God I love Corinthian and Wanderer's relationship. I love Dream and Wanderer's relationship. I love everything about this fic even though this chapter emotionally destroyed me.
I wonder if some people refer to Wanderer specifically as "Dream's Wanderer." Maybe only like Lucifer or Desire do it antagonistically, as a way to point out a weakness, but I think it would be cute
I love this fic so much I think about it all the time!!!!
Lucifer knows because you don’t have a mortal trapped in Hell, torturing them daily, go to them to cut a deal because you know about their curious curse and insider privileges when it comes to the other Endless, especially a certain Dream Lord, offer to let them go if they work for you, only for them to tell you no. You’re dealing with a different level of devotion, even if it wasn’t romantic back then. And then that mortal escapes without your permission anyway due to that pesky curse. Slighted doesn’t begin to cover it.
And yes, most of the older players at this point consider Wanderer to be one of Dream’s own purely by how much time she spends there. Even Dreaming’s residents comfort themselves with the thought that Wanderer is simply an emissary to other realms.
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bansept · 3 years
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Ichihime Bodyguard AU : night activities
You know what the title means lol NSFW warning
Since it’s a new way of writing, and the characters have a different type of alchemy and dynamic, as well as personality, I was thinking about how they could act on a regular basis. And between each other.
Crude world means crude situations and crude words. Please don’t read if you’re sensitive about this.
Once again, the idea isn’t mine, it's @life-of-the-obsessed 's.
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Eyes. They were everywhere. Some were opening for the first time, watching the bright new world and not understanding a thing from it. Some were glancing at someone curiously, languidly, shyly, so many different ways. But it was always in an interested way. Others were dark with envy, anger and hatred, the cold feeling of their glare cutting through her, trying to open her chest and tear her heart out to stomp on it. Stomp the Queen, make it cease.
Eyes, they were all over her. As much as she was hatred, she was desired too. Boys in their young teenage years, men of her age, old and wrinkled men, all looked at her in interest, not hiding it. Like wolves, or rather pigs, they swarmed around her, made her skin crawl, made her eyes glare daggers. Many times, too many times, she heard remarks that should have been kept quiet about how advantageous her body was. How amazing it looked. How they wished they could manhandle her, force her to her knees so they could abuse her.
They disgusted her to her very core.
Orihime wasn’t afraid of them, of their thoughts and their wishes. Of their ridiculous bodies and minds. She wished she could remain silent and impassive, but all of them, all these men and sometimes women, she hated them.
Had she been allowed to act on impulse, Orihime would have them hanged, their bodies later shown on the public place, a sign with their crimes written on it on their unweaving bodies. Because they were unpunished criminals. It was known, disrespecting women, using the lower ranks the way they so wished it was not denounced, not even frowned upon. The Queen couldn’t do anything about it. Not yet. But when the time would come… Justice would be delivered.
Eyes… She only appreciated a few. Only felt safe, comfortable, at ease when she felt them on her back.
Tatsuki, her oldest friend, had a note of understanding engraved in her dark brown stare. She could understand, always, the injury caused by men. They never were invisible, and Orihime allowed this understanding to heal her.
Rukia, her dear mischievous friend, met on a simple occasion in another country, never let her down. The crown was heavy to bear, and the short woman could relate to a certain degree, the violet of her gaze bringing joy and resolution to her life.
And… Ichigo.
Ichigo’s eyes were different. Nothing could compare to his gentle assessment of her mood, how easily he adapted his body and mind to accommodate the change, how worried they were when things got tough. But even in this situation, he remained stony in appearance. He knew her, knew she couldn’t allow weakness in front of others. Those tender chocolate eyes could grasp her grey ones, capture her attention and stop her words, and the world would make more sense.
.
.
.
She grasped the material in her hand, the sheets overflowing from the space between her fingers. Night had fallen, the dark sky eating the landscape, submerging all of the city mercilessly. Orihime didn’t enjoy the night more than the day : spies, assassins lurked in the shadows easier than in the bright sun, owls always cried out and no dreams popped into her mind.
Orihime sighed, turning around in the bed, staring at the flame flicker with the movement. No. She wouldn’t be able to sleep. Even with eyes heavy with fatigue, her mind was restless.
“Try a bit more. I’m sure that owl will shut up soon.” His deep voice ringed in the room, and the woman’s eyes wandered to his sitting form, on the chair in front of her bed.
A mystery for her: he didn’t sleep. Ever. Never, day or night, she never managed to see him escape the conscious world. Perhaps he only did this when she was bathing with trustworthy people…
Ichigo rolled his eyes at her pensive face and stood up, hands pushing on his thighs, as if he lacked the strength to stand by himself. Ridiculous. The man walked to her bed, and she moved her hips to the side to give him some space.
“Can’t sleep?”
His hands rested in his groin, distancing themselves from the monarch, his face tilted towards her to listen to her every whim. Orihime placed her own hand on his thigh, staring at him.
“No… I don’t think I’ll sleep at all tonight.”
Ichigo chuckled, head turning to the side to shrug his shoulders. Of course she wouldn’t. At the contact of her hand on his clothed thigh, the man gave her a subtle wink before standing up to remove his shoes. Orihime stirred to lay on her stomach, barely having time to reach for the light to play with it before a pair of hands rested on her waist in a trained manner. They knew where to rest, where she would allow them to run freely.
He placed his body on top of hers, without crushing her against her pillows, and Orihime stole a look from the side. Ichigo was still dressed, his shirt just slightly untied to have the skin from his chest peak out.
While Ichigo was still a bodyguard, not a noble, a prince or even an official soldier, he could do all these things, like staying by her bed at night, by her side during the day, could touch her without risking having his fingers chopped off, all of that because she trusted him. It… wasn’t easy to explain. She had seen him fight, watched him stand uninterested in the halls and somehow, Orihime knew he was different. He had saved her life from a gruesome death, helped her trapped mind escape her unhappy condition. It surely wasn’t enough for things to become clear between them, nothing seemed to ever be enough. But it was alright.
After rubbing her back until the knots were gone, until the skin was warm from his contact, Orihime rested one arm under her body, raising her weight so he would move to the side, laying on the side next to her. The young woman sat up, the movement bringing her long auburn hair to her shoulders and on her back, her mass of hair cascading like a waterfall of honey on her pale skin. Her nightgown slipped off her shoulders drastically slowly, to the point where it appeared it had a mind of its own, stopping just on top of her breasts, enough to tease. Her face melted into a curious look as she crawled on top of Ichigo, raising her clothing so she sat comfortably on the man’s lap, enjoying the red reaching his cheeks. Ichigo kept his hands still, not daring to touch anything yet. It was ridiculous to hesitate. Almost as ridiculous as having a starved man wait before eating his favorite meal laid out in front of his eyes.
Orihime grasped his shirt, opening it almost furiously, running fingers and palms on it while she started to rub her groin on his in circling motion. Ichigo strangled a gasp, eyes shooting open to give her a warning look. Of course, there was no danger, or at least, one that could cost her life. He had checked, multiple times : every door, every window, under the bed, over the console, on the ceiling… Nothing could disturb the Queen from touching him, but everything reminded him once again he was… just a man. No one in particular that possessed a rightful claim on her body. Orihime wanted him to be her guard, physically and mentally. He could talk to her, express his opinions, exchange pleasantries with her. Behind closed doors, the young woman would bat an eyelash at him and he’d immediately understand the mood had switched.
She wasn’t using him. Not in the sense of him being just a warm body for the cold nights, but she was taking him by her side because she needed him as he needed her. Ichigo wondered before if she loved him, but never asked. There was no point in that.
The man was pulled out of his thoughts by long, slender fingers traveling to his belly button, Orihime’s eyes watching as they trailed over the few scars on Ichigo’s body. There were some on his back, some small ones on his arms and the most massive one was on his chest, near the center of it. That had almost killed him. She had wept, waiting for him, but he didn’t know. No one could know.
Hands clasped her waist, the incessant rolls of her hips growing stronger as he led her, pressuring her center on his. Orihime smiled, her own hands going back up, under his collarbones, bending her chest on his, the guard not wasting any drop of the spectacle.
“You need sleep. I’ll make sure you’re tired enough.” He whispered almost cheekily, rolling her nightgown higher up, the skin of her thighs and the glistening of her womanhood entirely shown now. Orihime snickered, the sound faint against the chest she laid on. Oh, she knew he could do that.
“Then hurry… I don’t want to wait tonight.”
Ichigo groaned at the words, effectively pushing down his pants off his groin. Orihime helped to take them off his legs before circling her arms around his neck, going for his jugular, nibbling it. Ichigo carefully lifted her bum so it would be comfortably seated on his tightly muscled thighs, his clothed member poking in impatience. He played with the skin of her butt, fondling it gently, caressing it to appreciate the lovely plumpiness of it while his mouth was busy peppering kissed on her shoulder.
Orihime forced her center on him once again, impatient and frowning, the imperious look in her eyes sending shivers down his spine, and causing his hips to rub farther up. She didn’t want to wait, and neither did he.
With a swift movement of his hands, he managed to at least pull his underwear lower, and the woman on top of him gave his jaw an appreciative lick before she pulled away from him, taking things into her own hands. Orihime reached for his cock, rubbing it slightly to tease him more. But before Ichigo could grunt, she had already placed the tip at her entrance, and pushed her hips against his.
Just like before, that first night they had given their bodies to each other, a myriad of emotions rushed through them, from feeling oh so filled, so complete, so warm, to understanding they could never step back. They had always been linked to each other : when Ichigo saved her, when Orihime defended him against her advisors… They were linked by life, for life.
The fact he was buried inside of her, without any regrets, and that she was the one deciding what happened, what moved and what stayed in place, meant nothing changed, whether they were in private or in public. Orihime had complete control over him, and he would obey without blinking, hypnotized by those cold grey eyes only he could warm up.
Ichigo reached for one of her breasts with one hand, the second remaining on her hips to feel her moving. With as much delicacy as his rough fingers could muster, he placed his fingers on the soft skin, feeling its plumpiness, its roundness, and grazed her nipple with his thumb. Orihime muttered a small moan, the tiny touch shooting pleasure straight to her filled core, which made Ichigo chuckle. That smile of his, honest and only for her, made her blush for the first time that night, and she brought her chest closer to his hand, asking for more. The guard complied, feeling the skin before taking the perked peaked between his fingertips, toying with it gently. The rosy bud seemed to automatically react, seeking more caresses, and Ichigo raised his head to capture it in his mouth, the beautiful color and shape of it making his mouth water, more than it ever did in front of any succulent pastries. But then, all of Orihime was better than any of the most extraordinary things in this world.
The monarch gasped when she felt the warm and hot mouth of her lover on her tempted chest, but never ceased her incessant rolls of the hips. He was there, deep in her, with her. Everywhere beside her, under her, next to her. Ichigo was a permanent presence, felt and heard anywhere she went. With him under her as they were now, she could truly hold on to him, grip his shoulders in search of balance and allow him to touch her as he wished. She sensed he was holding back, as he most usually did, and stopped her movements, trying to halt this burning fever that was stirring her belly to simply have her way with him.
Ichigo let go of her nipple and turned a worried gaze to her, a frown reappearing on his forehead.
“What…”
She kissed his lips before he could ask more questions.
For the two adults, kissing was something done between lovers, between two people that were in love with each other. It was a sign of belonging to the other, giving yourself and your soul to them. They didn’t kiss, ever, on the lips, as an unspoken rule. Because neither knew, or wanted to know perhaps, the feelings the other had for them. What would be the point? It wasn’t like Orihime could openly be with Ichigo. Not in this life.
Yet, she kissed him. Willingly. Without the heat that would always come with their… joining. She kissed him with care, tenderness, affection… And he was so lost he kissed her back.
Wordlessly, they kept kissing, moving against the other, Ichigo letting go of her torso to hold her waist, spreading his legs apart, the position making him go deeper into her tight pussy. She whimpered in his mouth, opening it more to pass her tongue on his, and it sent a great shock in both their bodies. With a growl, Ichigo breathed out from his nose and gathered his strength before ramming his hips up and down, drilling the woman on top of him.
Orihime let go of his mouth, lips quivering as she moaned, the sound loud in the stone room. The bucking of his hips felt just right, exactly where he should be, and she didn’t even have to mutter “more” for him to keep going, fast and secure, strong and steady. Tears starting to form in her eyes. She wasn’t certain why : it could be because she felt so damn good, the cock inside her making her see stars, it could be because Ichigo had kissed her back in her moment of weakness… Or maybe it was because she knew it would not happen again.
.
.
.
Ichigo was asleep. She saw it for the first time, the way he laid on the mattress, hand touching her while the rest of his body was prepared to jump into action. The way his eyes were closed, his eyelashes very slightly brushing his cheek. His mouth closed but in a relaxed manner she had never seen. Smiling, she told herself it was probably their night activities that had exhausted him to the point of falling asleep.
It had been… new. In the way he had touched her, careful but free, kind but rough. A mix of too many things bothered her brain, but her sated body kept lying in her pillows, the ache between her legs welcomed.
Had she known Ichigo would bite her inner thighs, she would not have allowed his mouth anywhere near her core, she grumbled, but smiled at the thought.
She would absolutely do it over and over again : kissing him, touching him, allowing him to do as he pleased with her body. As long as his watchful eyes remained on her, watched over her. For, truly, it was only his eyes she could tolerate.
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Oh that was long to write... Damn.
I'm not all that satisfied with how it turned out, because I was hoping to write more smutty goodness; but since smut isn't pron, I guess I do not want to write too explicitly.
I started writing this in.. March, I think? And now we're in May. *insert sweating meme* well well...
The way I understand Orihime's character as life-of-the-obsessed imagined her, is that she has many duties, many things to deal with. Traumas can't be healed by anything but time, but she, unfortunately, doesn't have time for her. So, she is scared/unwilling to trust anyone but Ichigo.
Turns out, Ichigo has a pretty massive crush on her. But she's the Queen, and yeah. Drama.
I will soon update a fanart based on this, once I finish all that coloring and lighting.
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goblinconceivable · 3 years
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oh ffs, i have feels but also head exploded
So basically someone liked a story I wrote a million years ago and mostly forgotten about, and when that happens I often reread the thing.  (I can’t be the only one who does that...)  Can’t say I’ve thought about Alex/Izzie since I wrote it, couldn’t even tell you when I stopped watching the show, though I think it was before her cancer.
Anyway I infected myself with feels for them again.  And I dig the style I was using, 1+1 started a third chapter for funsies and should have stopped there.  Because I did some reading and watched some clips and it’s all too much and when that happens I meta.
Usual mishmash, structure desired but no work put into achieving it.  Classic brain dump.
Okay, fundamentals first.  I am for now ignoring how Izzie/KH left the show.  Because they had to exit her somehow and I’m sure Shonda was pissed at her, (or was leaving the door open for her return but I doubt it.)  Haven’t seen it, if I needed to I could work it into my conception of their whole arc, but since I’m more critically hung up before that point, not worrying about it.
What’s got me messed up is that RIGHT AFTER Izzie promised to not go crazy, she... went crazy.  Like, WTF was that about?  I get that GA is all about the soapy drama, that is why I stopped watching.  First couple seasons: brilliant.  Downhill from there.  But two things:
1) We never get to see these two happily together.  One hot second and bam.***  Every.  Time.  Shonda allowed it for Meredith and Derek, but in my brain other couples got it for periods of time at the least.  But these two, nope.  And know what?  THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN FASCINATING TO WATCH.  I could delve into this and might swing back around but trying to hit highlights.
2) It set them on two different storylines instead of one.  And Izzie got the short stick.  Yes I can see how it works on paper, but not on screen.  There are limits to the visual medium and limits to how much screen time they were given, which pretty much destroy the ability to nuance something this complex.  
a) Izzie’s in her own world dealing with a ghost and is basically in two relationships at once (mental note to look for parallels with Alex’s exit and Jo v Izzie.)  Except one’s a dream and the other is a reality that is still developing, yet she can’t give attention to.  She has to fight every time to be there for Alex in the real world, and we don’t really get to explore her struggle.  It often just looks like distraction and distance and him being second right after she firmly laid out that she cares about him.
b) Alex is in a relationship and is super happy and excited and wants the perfection he’s dreamed about to be real so much he’s overlooking everything that’s off.  In his own little dream world I guess, but like, the whole thing skews into this being the story of Alex while Izzie is wandering in circles somewhere over in that direction, all serving the purpose of advancing exploration and development of Alex’s character.  When did KH ask to be let out?  If it was after this point, Shonda svcks.  I mean, it is cool to watch him really blossom, but since he’s doing it under his own steam I’m left with a bad taste in my mouth.  Because he’s not really in a real relationship.  I want to see him get that, I want to see it for real.
***What IS interesting, I’ll admit, is that when they’re not together, they’re beautiful.  Which is most of the time, so they gave me that.  I’m a massive fan of the bittersweet, the star crossed, the never-quite-on-the-same-page, the nuance, the “it’s a deeper connection, a deeper love than just romance.”  Thank gosh, it is time for excited thoughts.  Because there is a strong friendship and mutual reliance and helping each other grow, pushing and giving hard truths and encouragement, and yes romance is woven through this but not the genesis and used more in terms of nudging everything along the path.
I love that Alex basically imprints on Izzie.  I love that he loves her the whole time.  But he’s willing to step back.  He may get jealous and resentful and petty and scared and mean.  But those are natural human emotions, Izzie gets them too, and they’re fundamental to his character and through those things he learns and grows.  Izzie doesn’t make him.  She entices him.  Yeah, often directs him, especially at first.  But at some point he’s growing on his own, in fits and starts, in reaction to his own emotions.
For example, when Izzie tells him she slept with George, he gets pissed, but also admits why pretty readily.  And he tells her the truth, remarkably straightforwards.  He reaches out to her a lot.  And she turns him aside a lot.  And he keeps loving.  Even if romance is off the table.  He runs after her a lot.  Sits next to her when she’s upset a lot.  Is understanding a lot.  He’s different with her, and look I’m a fangirl, it’s a trope, I swallow bait line and hook.  Which should be bait hook and line if my vague understanding of fishing is correct.  I fished once, with safety implements, and still cried even as they removed the fish and popped it back into the water.  (Okay I just reread to sort out where I’d gotten too and it’s hook line and sinker.  Statistically someone will probably read this someday, you have my full permission to laugh at me.  Anyway...)
The quintessential moment, the revved to 100, of course being when Izzie is clinging to a dead Denny.  They’re all standing around.  No one even looks surprised with jilted Alex talks to her.  In a really caring way.  And this is still fairly early on, wasn’t watching anything but their scenes but this had to be rare sight eh?  (Mebbe?)  And then he picks her up and sits down holding her and she clings and cries and like symbolism and could essay that but not going to right now because the broad relevant stroke is that Alex loves Izzie selflessly.  And this is the pinpoint core of why I can buy his ending, because he can’t NOT love Izzie.  I don’t think he even wants to stop.  Though he can set it down in his heart and let her go and doesn’t pine.  But he never stops loving her and it’s so many kinds of love imperfectly yet perfecly forged.
Forged.  But also born.  Stars uncrossed.  I have emotions without words and if I try I’ll never get out of it to move on, so moving on.
(Oh, George telling Alex to talk to Izzie because she won’t talk to him about whatever it was.  Isn’t is crazy that Izzie’s emotional squishy bestie goes to the emotionally stunted bad boy to help her because...  it’s an understanding of the two-way Izzie/Alex bond, but also this crazy trust that Alex will show up.)
I love that Izzie isn’t blind to his faults, truly doesn’t like his faults, but has eternal faith for who he is and can be.  She always saw him as someone with walls, once she stumbled on a lose stone and got a glimpse inside.  She knows.  She doesn’t always understand, but she knows.
Slight divergence from that line of thought, but its a great moment when they get together and he’s fairly transparently trying to make sure they’re in a committed relationship by dangling other women in front of her, and she’s a little ticked that he seems to be taking it rudely casually.  Probably a bit of insecurity, but I’d say more that she has a long history of not reading him from the perspective of him loving her.  Ie, 100% not recognizing that telling him about sleeping with George would hurt him.  And doesn’t get it until he comes in and he’s dropped the swagger and it’s a “I know I’m doing something wrong and I don’t know how to do it right so help me” thing.  
(Random memories of Sloan/Don from The Newsroom when she’s crying on the floor and Don comes in a sits next to her.  I wuvs them too.)
I love that she openly leans on him, when he offers support she takes it.  She doesn’t ask why, she accepts it and leans into it and is open to it because she trusts him because she knows him.  The bits where she hates him tend to fall out of romantic issues, but when that’s removed from the equation they’re in sync.  And the thing is, just as caring is fundamental to Alex’s nature, trust is fundamental to Izzie’s.  And those two things weave into each other.  Kinda like rats and the food button.  When Alex reaches out Izzie she honestly accepts it, a “reward.”  So he’s comfortable doing it again, and again.  And when she does rebuff him he’s seen rewards come out enough that he doesn’t just scatter.  And when Izzie trusts him, he rewards her with gentleness and care.  She has the rougher time of it overall, because Alex is more screwed up emotionally, and breaks her trust more often than she rebuffs him, but that’s where Alex’s constant love comes in.  But I cannot recall enough critical moments to have a cohesive proof, so I could be a little off base.
In my head Alex has always loved Izzie more than Izzie loves him, but I think my memory was unfair.  There is a real constancy to Izzie’s affection, though I don’t think she imprinted on Alex as he did on her.  She’s a different person, loves differently, has different issues.  But my longstanding impression is mostly because of Denny.  Who she truly did love, though the qualities of that love deserve exploration which I will not at this time attempt. And Denny loved her.   The whole “side loves along the way” being a trope.  Though usually “it ended in death/deathlike state” is given to the man and so THANK YOU SHONDA.  Thinking of classics like Jane Eyre and Rebecca though I think both were actually crazypants first wives.  And I do think female character’s side guys have a  habit of dying, but it tends to feel more like a plot point to shut the door on continued love, whereas Denny remains a part of Izzie’s life. 
 At any rate, despite superficial similarities, Alex doesn’t hit the trope because his crazypants relationship wasn’t ever really about the woman:  yep Alex got Rebecca, and Rebecca was crazypants, and it was a plot point to get him to the crying.  Rebecca wasn’t love. It was never love.  BUT
She DID, in every way, highlight what needed to be highlighted.  1) That he desperately wants a family.  2) that caring for someone, not just about them, is fundamental to him, (and ties neatly into him caring for Izzie all those sitting on the floor conversations.) and c) it’s not entirely healthy.  Which is ALSO why thrusting his new happy relationship with Izzie into caregiver role is insensitive and undermines the relationship because it only makes sense if we got to see them both happy in the relationship first.  And then we can see the quality of his caregiving change.  But we didn’t.  So bugger it.
I do LOVE how they let almost the whole next season play out he fallout of all that.  Something taken slowly!  We got to explore it.  Did feel a bit drawn out tbh.  But it just emphasizes the weight of it, I guess.  Especially as it was a subplot amongst 100 others.  This was their development for the season.  Which was mostly Alex.  But Izzie’s reactions revealed some things about her as well.  Majorly dancing around laying it out for a close look and I don’t know why.
Favourite moment?  Maybe Izzie putting her hand on Alex’s chest when he’s freaking out and telling him to stop, he doesn’t need to say any more.  Because he’s trying to convince her of something, and she understands.  And the trying to convince is shredding him, and she knows that.  It’s a very loving and accepting “stop.”  She’d already taken charge of the situation, for the good of the patient.  She’d already taken charge because she knew Alex couldn’t handle it, he was too deep in something to see clearly.  And she’s still in charge.  She doesn’t break down and cry for him, or try to comfort him, he’s been thrown back into childhood and PTSD might literally be at play and what he needs, and she understands, is someone he can trust, who’s calm and gentle but strong and solid, to say it’s okay.  It’s going to be okay.  You don’t have to carry this on your own.  We have it now.  Because when we’re little and in over our heads what we want and what we need is an adult to take the burden.  And still the physical contact is comforting, her tone of voice reassuring.  She creates a space where he can feel safe and heard.
Ugh, rewatching, and we’re watching him literally devolve.  Stages of grief ya’ll.  He’s using every tactic to try and get what he thinks he needs: being able to take care of Rebecca.  He’s in denial that anything is wrong.  He gets angry when Izzie grabs him, to the point of threatening to hit her (though it’s fighting words and not real threat, and Izzie totally knows that.)  He dives into bargaining.  She’ll be okay if he can take care of her.  He can do it.  He tries to convince her it’s true.
By the time he gets home it’s depression.  Not just Rebecca, but about his mom.  And Izzie approaches him differently.  In the hospital it was immediate and she was “in charge,” and needed to be in all facets, but at home, with the situation taken care of, she’s a friend.  An equal.  Which is what he needs right now.  His sticking point later is the crying, so I kinda wonder how he’d react just to having told her about taking care of his mom as a kid.  Right at the start he told that kid about his dad, (dad beating up his mom and him beating up his dad) while Izzie was within listening distance and didn’t seem fussed.  But it’s ultimately a story about him being manly and protecting his mom physically.  Which would be why it’s several seasons in before this crops up - waaay more intimate information.  Probably all lumped into one, with the crying as shorthand.  And mostly that his past is a fact, it’s his emotions he wants to keep private and deny.
He clearly did try to drown his emotions with sex.  I’m not sure it would have worked with a random girl because he’s way too close to crying to do much of anything.  And obviously doesn’t work with Izzie because sex is apparently emotional intimacy and I guess comfort for men moreso than women, but it plays out as a desperate attempt to get comfort in a safer way.  Bargaining again, I suppose.  “Have sex and will be fine tomorrow.”  But, as noted, he doesn’t get that far because it’s too heavy and he rather quickly is just sobbing.
Which is a lovely parallel to holding Izzie while she cried on him after Denny died.  Though Izzie had no qualms and no massive emotional recoil because emotions and vulnerability are normalized for females Izzie is a particularly emotional person.  And an inverse of all the times Izzie is an emotional wreck and Alex sits down besides her and offers her support and understanding.
Could also argue that Izzie just saying “I’m sorry... About Rebecca.  And your mom” - it’s an emotionally intimate moment.  Of understanding.  She’s acknowledging the two situations, and isn’t trying to do anything about them, explain or push or anything else.  Just make him feel understood and not alone and sex is the way he can respond to that.  How to process that in a way that feels manly to him?  Also notably Izzie does seem to be going with it, and it’s aborted because he starts sobbing.  And is still saying “Please” which is amazing, because he totally was never asking Izzie to just sleep with him.  He wants to make it stop - the pain, emotions, probably reliving memories.  But also... stages of grief.  He needs to feel it, so he can accept it.  He really just needs to cry, and grieve, and not be alone.
And it’s like... this is where their love story feels epic because it would look so different if they didn’t have all the levels and layers of love.  Take out the romantic/sexual aspect.  Take out the friendship.  The trust.  The family.  Take out anything and this can’t play out.
Who didn’t love moments like Alex explaining to Bernedette Peters that men sometimes need to protect their manliness in the eyes of the woman they love.  And they’ll do shit things to protect that manliness, but it’s because they care.  Which is obviously idiotic and while romantic on screen is very much not so in real life, but this is fiction so hey ho.  It’s such a wonderful foil.  Because the situation here was not that Alex took his pain elsewhere to protect Izzie’s opinion, but that Alex completely and for a long time shut Izzie out to protect his manliness, which is entirely counterproductive but the only option he could see.  He minimizes his experience as a “bad night.”  (I mean, if you remove all the adjectives, he’s not wrong.) He’s protecting his own sense of manliness to himself.  He doesn’t like feeling that vulnerable.  He let Izzie get too close.  He’s afraid.  It’s all a tangle.  And it pays off when they come back together and he’s willing to be more vulnerable, almost, and then enthusiastically, happy to be.
*But it does reference when he slept with Olivia when he failed his boards.  So yeah, he’s done it literally too.
Backing up a step to revisit season 5.  And actually they start out close.  They’re all out in the cold waiting to greet patients and Alex grabs a blanket for her.  He’s not irritated that Izzie keeps asking how he’s doing, just obviously in a bit of personal denial.  And they’re totally messing around and lighthearted and look at each other with their heads really close and it begs some questions about the interim, though I guess they just haven’t talked about it deeper than “are you okay.”  And per the Izzie/Meredith convo I guess they didn’t continue having sex (probably didn’t have sex that night either).  Though the way Izzie looks at him as he leaves, she’s totally concerned that he’s not dealing with it.
Ah yes, forgot - so they just kept his breakdown unremarked upon, the superficial checking in is situational because Rebecca is a fact.  They don’t talk about it, it’s fine.  Pretending it did not happen.  But it’s as soon as Alex thinks Izzie told Meredith about it that it goes pear shaped.  It’s funny that his issue is the crying and he’s the one that told Meredith, but thematically Izzie saying “he’s opening up to me” is sorta the same.  Also awww that even as she labels them friends, there’s this little glow inside her that they got closer.  Emotional intimacy, what’s life without it eh?
So also 100% it’s high on Alex’s mind.  That he did it, and so too that Izzie could betray him and tell others.  Their relationship is so beautifully fragile in that short interim.  It’s this little bubble where he’s okay that he was vulnerable with Izzie because she accepted it and isn’t making a big deal about it.  And he does feel super close to her.  But he can’t take anyone else seeing him in a non-manly light.  For himself, and it works in terms of Izzie too if it’s an inside/outside situation.  I’m a bit stuck and going in circles.  If Izzie tells, then Izzie isn’t taking it seriously?  Doesn’t understand him?  I don’t think he’s even angry at her, if he looks weak to others then she’ll come to see him as weak?  Halp, stuck.
Also so, I’ve seen it remarked upon that Izzie tends to forgive Alex when she maybe shouldn’t.  But part of forgiveness can come from understanding the other person.  Doesn’t have to be, especially for little stuff.  But for big stuff?
Oh, and so weird but kinda cool that right after that rather self-aware conversation with Peters, he specifically lets Izzy see him with another woman.  Were those scenes meant to be inverted?  Or is he going into this eyes wide open?  Trying to prove something?  He’s hurting her though, is it intentional?  Because cheating, by nature, is secretive, your person doesn’t know so you’re not hurting them directly, though of course when they find out it blows up.  But the intention to wound is not there, it’s an escape.  Proving that he’s really fine and back to his old self?  They are not sleeping together so this isn’t cheating.
And even after that Izzy just shrugged it off.  Popped in to tell him they maybe are getting kicked out, tries to get an apartment with him.  She’s holding on to their closeness and friendship, despite him being prickly.  And then... he smacks her or whatever they were doing which is back to flirty, and not meaningful but notably guides her out of the elevator before him.  Though her barb about STD did hit him.   Maybe he was trying to figure out how to stop being rude at her, and her continued friendliness was bufffer space until he could?  He does say hello at the end, but who was she talking to about having no one?
It does bring up an interesting insight.  It is true bout not something I thought about, that Izzie could be lonely, and actually does get as much out of their relationship as Alex ever did.  They are incredibly close.  And I think George might be married at this point, and thus no longer her “person”?
And then into the cryptic speak about them, while the father/son organ musical chair thing was happening.  He’s looking over his shoulder at her, glances up, unspoken words yadda yadda.  Follows her out into the hall when she leaves.  The freeze out is shorter than I remember, but look, they kinda always keep communicating because freeze outs do not feel right.  And I’ve moved to a blow by blow but Alex is trying to talk profession, and Izzie doublespeaks the “emotionally stunted” and he physically recoils and stutters like “yeah but no, that’s not what we’re talking about” and yet is now there and talking about them too.  “Okay, ... I”m trying to be-  I am, but this” WHAT is he trying to be/is???  Trying to not be emotionally stunted.  Is emotionally stunted (or doubling down on trying?)
This is just such a beautiful conversation.  Because Izzie IS emotional and caring but she has a mean backhand.  Pettiness, ultimatum, she can smack back as hard as anyone smacks her.  And she’s coming from a totally reasonable place, because he’s going hot and cold on her.  And you can see that it affects him, and that falls out from that same pattern where he’s trying to tell her somehing and she’s not putting in a ton of effort to figure out what he’s saying, but is focused on her own needs and thoughts.  ‘Cuz she’s hearing something like “give it up, you’re not going to get what you want out of me.”  And he’s trying to say “I’m afraid I can’t be what you need, because I svck, please don’t make me try and fail.”
And they’re convo through parallels continues, Izzie calls Alex broken and is like “okay I do it your way my caring for you is pointless and it’s all fine.”   Dad calls for son while kinda dying.  I know they claimed different thought process but didn’t Alex call for Izzie when he was shot?  And the payout from the series of exchanges: Alex is yelling at his standin to just step up and show he cares.  With a hefty does of potential regret.  It’s a 180, hoping that the kid does love his day, as well as getting emotionally invested.  His relationship with his father isn’t mentioned, not sure if it’s meant to play into this, because he has previously acknowledged that he regrets losing his father completely.
(But then 10 seconds later she’s going to go crazy and by avoiding treatment it’s kinda like trying to kill herself and just... poor taste writers, poor taste.)
Cue a moment where Izzie knows what he’s trying to say and rewards it.
Enter Izzie being a little obtuse, I know I covered this but ending my personal cannon with them getting together - Alex literally says “are we going steady.”  He’s literally saying “you tell me yes or no, and I will do that.”  Of course he’s trying to say “I don’t know if you’re serious and I want to be please clarify and reassure” but one of those literal ones should have been enough.  But then Izzie does always push him, not always intentionally, to be a little more direct, a little more vulnerable, trust her a little more.  And the result is sooooo adorable!
And brings to mind when Izzie was trying to ask him out for the first time.  And it went a tiny bit screwy and Alex flips it and asks her out.
There’s just so much awesome.  *sobs*  And there’s probably awesome in the cancer storyline too but I do not feel I can trust it and also it’s going to run full into Izzie being lame and leaving and all character development out the window?  And I DO NOT want to see her trying to come back and Alex saying No.  Because what will I see in the middle that gets them there?  They always say yes.  Eventually.  And season 16 when JC is leaving the show is a bit on the long side, even if I ignore the details of the intervening years.
Throwing everything at the wall and maybe I’ll be done with dumping or can at least refine things.  It’s the little speech I’ve only read and don’t want to hear bcause not sure how he did his line-read, but when he describes how he imagines Izzie’s life.  In how much detail, how much he wants for her, what he knows she’s capable of building.  He’s saying it to Jo and I’m uncomfortable with the idea he loves her, even if the letter to her does leak a “love you, in love with Izzie,” and I’m fine with Izzie loving Denny and don’t find it a problem Jo is still alive because I don’t see Alex going back but the thing where if he looks her in the eye he won’t return to Izzie and the kids is upsetting.  And it’s just the kids and insta-family which is enticing.  I mean, he’s not going to tell wife he’s leaving that he’s always loved his ex in a different way or anything.  But he’s also not lying.  He does mention to Meredith that he can’t go back to Seattle.  He’d stay with Jo then out of...  ?  Halp.  The best I got is he’s currently in a dream and if he goes back to his life, where he was happy, then he’ll lose the dream and it will disappear on him?
Slightly nicer is the elsewhere expressed (Meredith) idea that he’d set Izzie as unreachable.  Thus, in line with what he told Jo, he didn’t want to contact her because he didn’t want to make it worse for himself, and his happiness comparison was completely excluding himself from the possibility of being part of Izzie’s life.  It’s all happiness of them individually, not together.  But yes, he always wanted to reach out, wanted to hear her voice and he never had an excuse?  No excuse but curiousity, and that wasn’t enough to take a chance, but this was an excuse and he took it.  
And the idea that he knows the right thing is to stay in Seattle, and being with Izzie and the kids is crazy, but it’s what makes him happiest, where he belongs.  Meredith’s letter read first, so in that light, he’s overexplaining to Jo.  Also exposition.  References that conversation about his mental picture of Izzie, which I think was in the context of Jo questioning his feelings for Izzie.  It scared him because...  ?  He focuses on the kids.  It’s a little at odds with doing this for him, and a little suddenly ignoring the fact that he’s In Love with Izzie and I guess his mental image for Izzie was also his dream life and he gave it to her.  Though where he thought her kids came from is possibly an oversight.  Adoption?
Because it makes it sound like he’s torn between new and old love but the old love has is kids and wins.  It’s a free pass to perfection.  But he imagined a “whole life” for her, which is a massive investment opf time and emotional energy on someone he hasn’t seen in forever.  I mean thinking well for an ex is al well and good but this sounds a bit beyond that, where she’s not a part of his life but a part of HIS life, believing she’s okay makes everything okay.
I am also willing to take up arms and claim that “I can’t look you in the eye because I wouldt be able to walk away...” doesn’t mean walk away from Jo, but walk away from Izzie.  But that’s kinda tenuous.  It just... it sounds like if he sees Jo he won’t be able to leave her, which puts her above Izzie (and even the kids, though he can still be in their lives) and that contradicts other statements, or at least their implications .
Though fair point that there’s a metric of who you’ll give up everything for.  Izzie would for Denny.  In a sense, I hear Meredith got her back in the Seattle hospital and she declined out of respect for Alex’s feelings.  So in a way she gave up her life for Alex.  And never reached out to him but did respond when he did.  She picked up the phone.  Maybe not knowing who it was, or they all kept their own phones.  And Alex gave it all up for Izzie+kids.  I want to know he’d give it all up for Izzie alone, and the life they could have had.
Or is it that he wouldn’t be able to leave Jo because, as noted to Meredith, it’s the right thing to stay in Seattle.  And he’s become a man who does the right thing.  And sometimes the right thing isn’t what we truly want, and to get that we have to be selfish.  He one perfect thing is in Kansas.  And it’s the family.  It’s a family with Izzie.  And his kids.  It’s the whole package.  If it wasn’t Izzie, the kids wouldn’t be enough?  Also indicates that even with Jo was not exactly where he should be.
I’m also going with “some clues in various directions to satisfy various viewers but really offending most of them because this is all 10 years ago and people are newer viewers or forgot or hated Izzie when she left etc.”  But preponderance of evidence leans in favour of this choosing what makes him happiest over what makes him happy.  
ETA: he has a life for Izzie in his head because if she’s not happy, he can’t leave her where she is.  He sees her as an optimist, the opposite of him and good things happen when you lean in that direction.  He imagines her somewhere woody because that’s where they lived when they were married.
ETA2: Izzie didn’t notice Alex wanted to be exclusive.  Because Izzie sees the good in him, but she doesn’t try to justify or explain things.  She takes him at face value (mostly, she knows superficial crabbiness is just an unpleasant personality trait.)  Until/unless she has very good evidence to he contrary.  And THAT is why he has to take an active role and go to her.  He does have to work for the relationship.
(Briefly skipped to a scene in season 6 (avoiding that season) and he actually says “I can’t be your nurse” which is so much character growth.  Because I was afraid he’d gone full out into caregiver mode, which is not healthy for either of them.  He’s protecting himself, but also pushing her to face up.)
CODAS
Watched Alex calling for/hallucinating Izzie when shot.  Maybe it’s a Miranda thing?  After freaking out right after she died, about how he can’t live without her, his breakup speech was essentially about how he realized he could survive without her.  He doesn’t need her like that.  And he was really hurt by the really shitty thing she did, leaving him. Thus valid conclusion that they should part ways and he’s not caught in the love/hate.  But at some point after that, per hallucination conversation, he really wants her to...  come back for him.  To love him enough to not be able to stay away and come back for him it’s funny because the best way for her to love him was the respect his wishes and not come back.  I mean she doesn’t even say anything after he asks that.  
Interesting point “we married...”  It’s a promise.  He starts with “I’m sorry.”  His breakup speech to her - rehearsed?  He’s speaking from love and hate all blended and I think he’s a lot more honest and self aware, and he’s almost always been honest with Izzie.  So his dying speech was also fear based?  He’s scared, he’s in shock, like, physical shock.  To when is his mind taking him?  It’s natural to have regrets after a painful but necessary breakup.  It’s been months but that’s still recent enough.  So on the whole, inconclusive except yeah, he isn’t over her, but he admits during their breakup that he loves her “so much.”
Also love his “frozen together in time... and now we’re not.”  They’ve both grown and changed, and so has their relationship, but there connection hasn’t.  That hasn’t changed.  
So back to his Izzie speech, which is meaningful intentionally as in 300th episode, where years later he was wondering still about her, enough to create a good life for her.  A happy, rich and full life.  He imagines it clearly and deeply enough to add smell to it.  Smell is heavily linked to memory and emotion.
As happy as he is with Jo.  Maybe it’s contentment?  Something missing for each of them but not something he consciously knows?  Meh.  Back to frozen.  He has an image, a full rich image of her and her life.  It’s immersive but static, a snapshot.  And the him who looks at that snapshot is the same him over time.  
Letter to Meredith.  “It’s about me.”  Which is sorta back to breakup speech.  It was about him, ending the relationship.  He didn’t deserve to be left.  And this is about him, not leaving Izzie+kids.  There’s movement and beauty in this.
Meredith/Alex talking true love.  So I’m torn.  Jo refused his proposal, and the question is if you only get one true love.  Did he think Jo was a true love, and if she refuses him it’s not?  Or is he hoping that true love happens after they’re married?  Given the constancy of his love for Izzie, from fairly early on, even if he didn’t call it that at the time I’m pretty sure it’s indisputedly much earlier than marriage, and she turned him down all the time, which would forestall true love worse, right?  Can’t say as I’m not watching any Jo/Alex, cannot will not no need don’t gotta.
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fenfyre · 5 years
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Bunny anon here to be sinful once more but Viren got hot this season
You are on thin fuckin ice my friend how dare you imply Viren was not hot from the second we met him I can not believe this but also…
Cursed - Part I
The room was cold as Viren stepped inside and sealed the entryway behind himself, darkness falling over him. He did not bother with the small oil lamp on the table and instead turned to where he knew the mirror was, lifting the thin blanket he used to keep it covered whenever he was not with it.
The place on the other side of the glass lay there in utter stillness, the sky behind the massive windows a deep blue with unknown constellations twinkling across the vast expanse. Wherever the elf was being held, it was night there as well. Maybe he was asleep? Viren could not make him out among the shelves of the room.
Still he reached for the small glass container he used to store the caterpillar and took off the lid, noticing his fingers were still shaking slightly. Balling his free hand into a fist a few times he tried to steady himself before reaching inside and plucking the caterpillar from one of the twigs he had provided for it, lifting it to gingerly place it on the shell of his ear.
Even his breath was shaking as he sucked air into his lungs.
“Aaravos?”, he called out, satisfied that at least his voice was steady.
Though for the longest time there was no answer, the room behind the mirror lying in complete silence, casting its blue glow over Viren’s still frame.
“Aaravos”, he repeated after a long time, hoping he would be heard sooner or later. “Show yourself. I need to speak to you.”
Another eternity of stillness he spent waiting until, finally, that smooth, deep voice was breathed right into his ear, reverberating through his skull and making the hairs along his arms rise up with a warm prickling sensation.
“Your sleep has been disturbed”, it murmured, low and almost sensual as something in the mirror moved and the elf stepped into the frame. Though he was not wearing the garments Viren had gotten used to. Tonight his chest was bare, the enticing twinkle of stars speckled across his skin way too distracting, especially considering what Viren had come here for this late.
“Tell me what caused this…”
Viren swallowed at the low words, the subtle order that made something in his abdomen pull tight in a way that had grown entirely unfamiliar to him these days.
Maybe coming here had not been a good idea. Maybe he should have just waited it out in his bed and stayed far away from the mirror. Maybe it would have been better to never return. And yet … he had to know.
“You…”, he began, trying to find a way to not make this sound utterly pathetic. “Have you done anything to me? Some kind of spell? A curse? It must have been you…”
A long stretch of silence as clever eyes regarded him, making a warmth creep over his skin that he just could not keep at bay. Especially not when in the end a smirk began to creep across dark lips and the elf tilted his head to the side with a curiously fascinated expression.
“No…”, he breathed right into Viren’s ear. “I have done no such thing. Your desires are entirely your own.”
“You’re lying!”
He had to be. It was simply not possible that these strange, overpowering feelings had any natural source, that these dreams were coming to him by themselves and not because an unfamiliar, dark magic sent them to him.
Viren would not be waking from confusing pictures and sensations of the elf hovering above him without any kind of magical intervention.
“You are scared of it”, Aaravos smiled in lieu of answering the question, the quirk to his lips almost fond. “Of your own needs.”
“I am not scared! I simply cannot imagine…”
“Wanting me?”, the elf interrupted, voice velveteen. “Is it so unlikely you would feel drawn to someone … powerful? Someone who can teach you … so many things?”
Unbidden memories of Harrow flashed through his mind at the elf’s words, each one still sending a hot stab of grief and guilt and betrayal through him and then … then there were Aaravos’ eyes, so dark and expressive, the only thing he could still manage to hold on to in the blueish glow around him.
A deep breath as that smirk grew wider, grew into a lingering smile that made Viren feel as warm and desired as he had not felt in … years. Had it truly been years?
“Disrobe”, echoed that deep voice in his head and Viren … Viren found no reason to disobey. Spell or curse or nothing at all. Maybe it was this single indulgence he needed to break out of it. Or maybe that was just the way he justified his own actions to himself as his hands wandered to the hidden buttons of his robes.
The silence between them was thick but not uncomfortable as Viren slowly worked his robes open. The fabric was heavy as he pushed it aside, revealing his lighter, finer night garments he had not bothered slipping out of after he had awoken from his dream.
Simply thinking back to it made heat shoot into his cheeks and a sweet pulling sensation flare up low in his abdomen. He remembered the phantom touch of warm, clever hands, strong fingers digging into his skin as if they were trying to mark him for centuries to come.
“Good”, Aaravos breathed, the motion of his lips slow and sensual as his eyes trailed up and down, watching the heavy fabric of the outer robes glide to the floor as Viren pushed them from his shoulders. “Continue.”
Viren doubted he could have stopped, even without the low command hummed into his ear, fingers trembling once more as he worked the buttons of his night shirt open.
Exposing himself like this felt dangerous, wrong in a way that made his carefully honed instincts howl and yet … yet it was too tempting to give in, his usual paranoia drowned in the demands of his flickering need, the insistent throb of his manhood that started tenting the thin undergarments.
Judging by the way the elf’s gaze flicked down to take in the slowly revealed shapes of his body he did not miss that crucial detail, the corner of his lips twitching up into a cruel yet attractive smirk.
Part II
Commissions | Kofi | AO3 | twitter | pillowfort
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upliftsquire · 7 years
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The world burned. 
Nihilists. Anarchists. Terrorists. They all got what they wanted that day - the end of peace, strained as it had always been, and the beginning of an Age of Fear, of Depravity, of Sin, of sheer Horror. They must have spent a long time working towards this primitive future, Petra had always thought, though of course, none of them were left alive to say. They must have stolen, or even bought huge amounts of crude oil, because surely the oil rigs couldn't have been leaking unchecked for so long. The crews must all have been killed, they said before they left Petra all alone, or replaced by Them. The Nihilists, the Anarchists, the Terrorists. The Arsonists. It was late at night - midnight, they always said, but in truth the exact time was uncertain - when the world shook. Every oil rig in one excellently timed stroke had been bombed. They'd exploded into a million unrecoverable fragments, along with the people inside. The seas had already been blackened with oil, but in the dark of night that preluded the disaster, it had been unnoticed. In the days before, it had been naught but a creeping darkness on the horizon that no one acknowledged. The flames travelled down beneath the ocean as well, licking across the great drills the oil rigs had once used. When there were still people to say it, they said it was devils fire, that the end had come at the hands of demons. Whoever had caused it, they had caused the volcanoes to erupt, to spit out molten rock when the people were trapped by burning rivers. Petra had once heard a man say it was like a house on fire, if we call the planet our house. Perhaps he was right - if the sink caught fire, if burning oil spewed from the taps, and black smoke billowed from the shower. Millions had died that first day, tens of millions, hundreds of millions. No one knew exactly how many. How could you tell, when ashes were all that was left? The governments collapsed, the military were disorganised - so many soldiers, sailors, and pilots were lost that day. There was no one left to keep order. The skies were black. They stayed like that for years, so many years, and the crops choked on the smoke. Too few realised this at first, and even those smart ones didn't last long. There were riots, encouraged by the seemingly eternal night, by the demonic creatures that seemed to live in the smoke that stifled their world. Those who harboured grudges killed indiscriminately - they never stopped at just one. They either went on to kill until they themselves were killed, or driven by despair, they killed themselves. The poor and embittered stole all the things they'd coveted - they stole all the things that became worthless - money, jewels, all those things that seemed so important but never really were. Every atrocious burning desire that had lain dormant and hidden in peoples hearts was committed without fear of repercussion. So many people died. From hunger, from horror, from despair, from murder. They all died, and left Petra alone. She'd been young when it all began, barely old enough to remember any of it. She didn't know how old she was now, it had been so long, and all the days blurred together. Was she fifteen, or twenty five? She didn't know, and it didn't matter. The skies had paled from their demonic black to a smoky grey by the time she was left on her own, the kind farm owner who'd helped her for so long finally succumbed to illness. At first, she'd travelled - all over Europe, she'd even swum the channel and gone to Britain, and spent quite a bit of time in Africa, though it was a while before she realised she'd wandered into another continent. She never met anyone. No one alive, at least. The dead though - they were everywhere. There were far fewer than any survivor of the end of days should reasonably expect. Most of the worlds population were ash, were sediment at the bottom of the sea, were nothing at all anymore. She buried all the dead she came across, spending weeks, possibly even months in some towns. For every person, she would make up stories of what their lives were like, guessing at their names, assuming their personalities from what little she saw of their lives and deaths in their surroundings, and writing all of it down in small, neat handwriting in notebooks of various sizes, all in almost perfect condition due to the care she gave them. Petra carried the notebooks in a messenger bag she took across all of Europe and Africa with her. She was carrying those people with her wherever she went. Perhaps it was Petra's vivid imagination, or perhaps she was just lonely, or even insane, but when she finally returned to Kazan, a small town in Russia near a pure clean lake, her hometown, she imagined that she brought a whole country full of people with her, and she knew them all. They had whole lives in the small world of her notebooks and the expansive world of her mind - they loved, fought, danced, sang, did everything people do, good and bad. Petra knew she couldn't live in her dreams, as nice as they were. She found she didn't mind being on her own - she'd always been shy, but knowing there was no one around, she'd dance through the empty streets, whether the sun shone dimly through the sky's eternal grey pallor, or whether the rain fell in sheets. She didn't care - her notebooks were safe in the waterproof messenger bag she'd nicked from a post office in Arzamas when she'd started her first notebook. The world was dead, and she was alone, but she was happy. Not just content, but genuinely happy. But Petra couldn't live in her dreams, didn't need to, and she certainly couldn't live without food and water. She couldn't travel forever because there was no guarantee that the place she went to next would have anything for her to scavenge. As well as taking food and drinks, she would also take clothes, since she couldn't clean her own with any regularity. Several years before, she had abondoned the clothes she'd set off in. She would take books from place to place, only carrying them long enough to read them. Her notebooks already hindered her with their comforting weight, she couldn't afford to add anything that wasn't utterly essential to that. Petra travelled for a long time, she'd been everywhere her feet could take her, until her wanderlust eventually faded enough for her to decide to return to Kazan. She didn't know how old she was when she started, and she had no idea how much older she was now. A decade, more? It may as well have been forever by the time she was home again. The skies were blue again by then. In Kazan, there was a small farm near the lake, where Petra had spent much of her time. There was an old oak tree that she'd loved - it was a massive sprawling thing, with a network of branches that, with enough supplies, she could easily and comfortably have stayed in for several days at a time. It was right beside the lake, so close that some of the branches were above the still, clear blue water. Petra's mother had always been afraid that she would fall, but she and all the farmhands had insisted that the grass was green and soft around the tree, and she had been taught how to swim in case she fell in the lake. The tree had been black and rotting when she'd left, wandering towns in search for food that had grown into her wanderlust. It was green again now, green and thriving. The first thing Petra did when she was back in Kazan was climb that tree. She straddled one of the branches that hung out over the water, hugging it tightly. She didn't hold it so desperately tightly out of fear of falling - the grass was green and soft again, and Petra still knew how to swim- she held it out of the joy she found in it's life. For so long, the only living were inside her notebooks, but the life of this tree was like the benign reanimation of a dear dead friend. The branch was thick and alive, the entire tree covered in bright green leaves. Below her was clear water - clearer than it had ever been in her memory - clear enough that she could see the grey rocks at the bottom, and make out the individual scales of the brightly coloured fish that swam in it if she so chose. She could hear birds in the distance, chirping happuily, and she saw animal prints in the soggy ground around the lake. Beyond the lake, she saw the old farmhouse. It was empty of human presence, but not dead. It was home now to many animals, and nature was reclaiming it - moss grew all up the sides, and vines crept in the windows and doors. Petra smiled, she couldn't help it. There was no other human in the world, but she wasn't alone. A butterfly settled on the branches Petra was hugging, inches away from her nose. It's wings were beautiful, dazzling sapphire blues and emerald greens. The butterfly looked curiously at Petra, before flying away. The butterfly, being a butterfly, couldn't have said how far it flew. It couldn't even recognise the surface it landed on as being a button (it rather thought it a flower, a poppy or rose perhaps). It's weight was far too little to push the button down, but it didn't matter, as the button had already been depressed. The little butterfly was utterly ignorant of the stark white lettering on this red button. RESET.
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Ariadne and Theseus - Chapter 1
So yeah, here is the first chapter of my attempt on actual fanfiction with several chapters. It’s the start of Human Revolution from my OC’s, Gillian Thorndale’s point of view who is also part of the Illuminati. I want to cover the attack on Sarif Industries, how the scientist got to Omega Ranch and what happened during the 6 months between the intro and the actual events of the game.
I will post on this blog and on Ao3 as soon as I get my account. If you are not familiar with my OC, feel free to check her bio and Page’s as well, since I write in my own verse which sticks to the canon as closely as possible. 
Dark, impervious rain clouds covered the city of London, and kept the old streets within their tight grip. They crept over the city like a menacing shadow, a dim guardian, whom concealed and prevented those bright illuminating rays of sunlight from reaching the ground. They were an unwelcomed harbinger with a strong voice, proclaiming their master's arrival, whom would haunt those who dared to walk the streets, knock on every single window, and ascertain that the citizens behaved and bowed before its will. Nothing would remain unseen. The white haired CEO stepped out of the old, wooden elevator, and knocked on its metallic frame with the remarkable iron ring on her right middle finger without making a sound. Five deep breaths, and she placed the old-fashioned black, unused, umbrella into its stand right next to the entrance. She had been lucky. She had been spared. A little nod towards the blond secretary, fifteen firm steps on dark parquet, and one gentle press against the door's automatic lock - this is all it took to open the gates to her own little liar: The outpost to her kingdom, unfolding to her majesty.
Her oddly coloured eyes - one blue as the ocean, the other shining like an emerald - glanced over the office with its grey and dark tones, which pleased her sight without any disruptive elements. On the contrary, it all merged into a comforting unity. Just the way everything was supposed to be. Old oil paintings adorned the grey walls, framed into gold and silver and an astonishing amount of books occupied the side to her left - only the rotating holo-globe casted some calm blue light. A room with a tale, a clash between new and ancient, but the ink of the history books had not dried yet.
With elegant and silent steps in polished black shoes, she approached the carved wooden chessboard and brushed her delicate fingers over the ebony figures. The black king and queen stood together, as they always did, never leaving each others side. There was a deep hope, a whisper, to finally get the permission to move some of those pawns - like a soldier with a nervous finger laying in the trenches as he had to observe the enemies move. But for now she had to stay patient and remain a silent watcher as she heard the clocks ticking. Soon, so she promised herself, the moment for the right shot will come and their carefully laid out plan will unravel itself, causing an avalanche no one could withstand or stop and no one was supposed to - they were the masters who watched the stones fall, piece by piece, and created the picture they desired. A perfect maschine in which even the slightest part worked in harmony with this others. 
Her fingers twitched, ready to act - or perhaps it was just the loyal demon of nictone-dependency which decided to visit her once again. His claws buried in her shoulders -  a friendly reminder she was not without marks herself. While the lean woman slowly walked towards her archaic timber desk, she took off the scarf made of the finest silk from her pale neck, exposing it, and threw the warming servant on the armchair across the room without paying attention to its fate. It served it purpose well enough; now it was time to dispose of it. A silent click, and the leathery cigarette case opened like a mechanical clam and revealed the little precious pearl in it: the poison the heiress longed for, exactly 7 doses of it. She placed a flawless exemplar between her blood-red lips, and the calming taste of exquisite tobacco on them stilled the hungry monster, pushed it back into its cave as it purred like a cat. She ignited a match without hesitation and the warm light of the petite flame brought the only accents to this monotone, cold place. For a short moment she glanced into it, fascinated by this display of controlled destruction she moved it to the tip of her life-donor, lighted it up and flooded her tainted lungs with the desired smoke. - causing a warm and welcomed feeling, especially as her eyes wandered across her desk. There it was: A plain silver plate, placed by her assistant, and on it an antique porcelain pot filled with the most precious liquid she could think of: Perfectly brewed Earl-Grey. Smirking with satisfaction, she poured her beloved drink into a simple mug next to it, drowned a sugar cube which weighted exactly 0.55 grams and let the heat take over her lifeless hands. The first rain drops gently knocked in her windown, a slow drizzle.
The woman adjusted her round glasses, checked her watch - 3:58 PM - and turned herself to her terminal to prepare everything for what was supposed to happen in exactly 126 seconds. The sky outside had the tone of the dead device in front of her. Like an automated worker, her fingers over the mechanical keyboard, typing in the commands she knew in her sleep and had used countless times. A routine, but one that secured the fate of the world. Their world. It just took a few moments of her time, just one drag of the delicious cigarette, to establish several secured connections around the world as the huge screen in front of her turned to life - ghost hieroglyphs, cryptic lines and symbols emerged out of nothing. Several faceless heads slowly took form - merely a shadow, the masked members of this private ball. But the holo-sensor, hidden behind a little marble statue of the infamous creature of Cerberus, remained turned off - no buzzing in three-quarter time to accompany this faithful event. This time she wouldn't participate, she wouldn't speak. No, today she took the role of Morpheus - assuring the rest of the world continues to participate the dream they dictated and like a mercyless guard she paid attention that no one would inadvertently wake up from the consensual illusion had been created with so much detail. The short-haired woman looked over her left shoulder and smirked as she spotted her black Belgian Malinois sleeping in front of the fireplace. Cerberus, guarding the gate to hell.
Now it was just a matter of a few seconds until the elusive meeting could start. Her own ID brightly flashed on the screen: uk.ti.22535. The CEO smiled once again as the other numbers started to join in, a series of soft pings announced their arrival like an old-fashioned door steward. The guardian took a final deep drag, let the smoke gently escape from her grip before squeezing out the cigarette. As loyal as someone could be, it took a short moment to take out their light forever after they have served their purpose.
sg.or.di.67892.
cn.ctym.99230.
us.un.09763.
us.dc.01776.
ch.who.03629.
ch.db.01120
hk.pi.02052
Splendid, everyone managed to arrive and the connections looked stable -  no one dared to step in her marble with muddy shoes. It was the non-verbal permission to finally rest and take a seat herself. She hungrily took the mug of the precious liquid and sat down in her massive leathery armchair - it offered the perfect listening position for the conversation which took place behind her, and all over the world. She didn't need to see the silhouettes, something else demanded her attention. A deep sip, and the last remnants of unrest were drowned. Three clips, fifteen buttons pressed into her keyboard, and the precious files unfolded on her terminal. Connection established. Remote Access: Sarif Industries. Another click, and she allowed a special participant of the meeting to see the same data she glazed at. Now she could close her eyes - even if just for a brief moment. Breath in, breath out.
"Is everything in place ?" hummed a voice she was way too familiar with through the speakers - even through the distortion she added to conceal the true identity. For a short moment, she imagined how he must be standing in his own office , a cigarette rested between in his well-manicured fingers as he gazed at the stunning view of Hong Kong the holographic window revealed -  like a king admiring his very own empire. A view she had the pleasure to see herself often enough.
"Almost." And there was the other Chinese metropole. The unnatural one, reaching for the sky as the unfortunate left behind suffocated on dust and dirt. A hive, where the drones did not matter at all.
"What do you mean, almost?"
"I have spoken with Montreal. The broadcast satellites are ours when we need them. A few weeks of discomfort and the public will be primed for our recall."
The Welsh woman did not look at the faceless icons floating behind her, who coloured her desk in bright yellow as they spoke. No, her differently coloured eyes firmly clung to the terminal in front it her, tinted in dark gold, as she eagerly read the classified reports and analyses she had waited for so long. There it was, the holy grail the whole world longed for, reaching out with their greasy dirty hands, like beggars who dragged on your pants and stained it with the pathetic hope that they would get your pity. Hoping you would spare a golden coin. But as soon as their crippled hands reach out for you, someone else will forcefully remind them where they belong before they can even see your face. And soon, this reminder would have to be made again as an unwelcomed person, one who seems himself as the messiah - the great liberator - stepped on the chessboard, although he was ignoring he corpses he was walking on. But he was fragile, like a house of cards - remove the core and it will fall into itself and nothing will be left if its former glory.
And they knew exactly how to reach these parts. Another deep warming sip down her throat, and her fingers ran over the cold keys again. "Have you seen her research?"
This time, she opened up a private text channel with the mysterious creature who head the great privilege to lead this meeting. She had to admit, she was surprised the Hydra allowed the disciple to step out like this. As she hit enter, she  her eyes closed again and listened carefully to her partner's voice and to the others response . The world was quite, as if someone had emptied the hourglass just for this moment, before it would be refilled and run as usual.
"And the clinics?"
"We control their purse strings. They will do as we say." The ice queen left her ivory tower in Geneva and stepped on the chessboard.
Quietly the CEO took little sip of the Earl Grey and warmed her hands after this sudden moment of coldness. A shiver down her spine as the almost unbearable French accent rang in her ears. She would increase the distortion for that line next time. Ping and finally a response showed up on her second screen. "Yes." Satisfied with this simple word she smiled again and took another, deeper sip.
"I still think we should wait for the referendum." The diplomat, collected as always. His line appeared to be the most fragile, since he was calling directly from the UN building in New York. It was careless to call from such an exposed place -  he nearly asked to be attacked as he showed his bare neck.
"We can't afford to wait! America's science board convenes next month." The Grand Knight aggressively proclaimed, like a crusader kicking a door in. The woman hasn't seen him in a while, she should pay him a visit in his castle again.
"But the mood among the delegates is shifting. I'm positive that given more time…" The diplomat nearly bowed in awe.
While the others still discussed the matter, a closed case in her eyes, the CEO opened up a report from the borrowed files from Sarif Industries's internal servers. A file that confirmed yet again what she and her husband had suspected for a long time and the world was about to get exposed to - like an highly infectious disease it would spread around the world and change its face forever. Unless they would stop them before it could even leave the lab it was currently located in. She could feel how her heart started to beat faster and opened the chat again. "She has found it. The gene sequence we need." Another sip helped her to control the little rush of excitement before she added: "But she is out of our reach."
"No, by going public with this discovery Sarif is forcing our hand." interrupted the disciple.
"The world will not change overnight just because David Sarif wills it. Besides, we can do nothing until our biochip is ready." The charming Hephaestus calmly spoke from his workshop in Singapore like an old mentor - the smith of this golden age who has created the impossible. How ironic his magical anvil was unable to create a cure for his crippled feet. The short haired always wondered if this man would fall from the Olymp one day as well.
"I thought you said you were close." There was it again, the arrogant voice of the Dragon from the east.
"Finding the correct nerve interface has proven more challenging than anticipated. Fortunately, thanks to David I now know where to look."
Suddenly the whole screen turned red, a minor alarm was triggered and activated the anti-hacking counter measures Morpheus, she, rigorously had programmed herself to keep those who dared  to open their eyes and wake up from their dreams back into neverending sleep. Quickly she put the mug away and typed a few commands to see what was going on. Her heart beat faster again, a car rushing to an emergency.
"Intruder detected, secured connection compromised. Intruder has been blocked and identified: -  auto.prog.plague.2213 - Hengsha - China. Affected connection: hk.pi.02052 . Secured connection re-established."
Cold sweat on her forehead, the CEO exhaled deeply out of relief, proud of her own construction at the same time. She left the protocol open, staring at it with a twitching eye, before she decided to take a deeper look into the threat. She was confident that she could trace the bot back to its origin, those who were brave enough to try forbidden fruits were often the mindless ones. Another cigarette was the right tool to choke the undesired feelings of restlessness . "Is she?" flickered in the private text channel just a few seconds later.
"Finish the talk, we need to discuss our next manoeuvre in private."
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writing--ramblings · 7 years
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Wounded (Hurt pt. 2)
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Summary: Things get steamy when you and Peter wake up
A/N: So, this chapter isn’t the greatest, I accidentally deleted the last half so, I had to rewrite it. But, I still liked it, hopefully part three will be out soon.
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You called his name as you followed him out, no response, he was down the hall a mere twenty feet ahead of you so you know he’d heard you. He rounded the corner and you began to think that this wasn’t worth it. If he isn’t going to stop then why chase him? Your walk became somewhat of a stomp as you reached the parking lot and you resisted the urge to smile as you saw his lean figure standing against your car. His smirk grew larger as he watched you approach.
"Nice of you to join me” his smirk never faltered even as you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.
“Well it is my car” you told him, feigning annoyance “did your Wolfy powers go out of wack? I called your name” it was like your mind wasn’t sending the signal to your mouth to just *stop talking*, you hoped you didn’t sound like a clingy girlfriend but, you hated being ignored. During your short rant Peter’s eyes danced over your features and he had stepped so close that your noses touched.
“I’m sorry darlin’ I just didn’t want anyone to hear” his eyes filled with lust. You opened your mouth to ask what exactly he didn’t want anyone to hear when his lips came crashing down on yours you barely registered that you were kissing back until he bit your lower lip softly. Giving in eagerly to his silent request to open your mouth as he ran his tongue across yours, you let out a soft moan as he pulled you to him tight, you felt his member against you, letting out another as  he pulled away half a second later. “That, is what I didn’t want them to hear” huffing as he answered the unasked question. He bent his head and let his teeth brush your ear as he spoke “I want that noise to be reserved for my ears only”
You didn’t get a chance to respond because as quickly as it left, his mouth was back on yours and one hand was sliding its way up your shirt, the other gripped your ass tightly. “Peter” you moaned breathlessly into his mouth. Your hands found themselves eagerly pulling at the button of his pants and you began pulling them down.
Your eyes snapped open and you stared at the ceiling oh God oh God ohhh God you thought to yourself as you looked down, Peter was in the same position that you fell asleep in, arms tightly wrapped around you with his head still on your stomach. The dream momentarily pushed out of your head as you saw a sight that you’d never see well, more like felt, there was a small pool of drool right above your belly button. Resisting the incessant urge to giggle, you closed your eyes and thought back to your dream, your hand finding its way to its new favorite spot in Peter Hales dark locks. Really? A dirty dream about Peter? In Peter’s bed?! It isn’t like it’s never happened, you weren’t obsessed with the man but you couldn’t deny the fact that he was handsome. If you’re being honest you’ve had dreams like this before about a few of your other friends, what can you say that you haven’t before? They’re attractive and there’s no way to control your dreams plus you’re a grown ass woman with needs and all this supernatural stuff is seriously blocking your chances at getting anyone near you.
Seriously you were a human, how could you tell if the next guy who took you out wasn’t going to try to murder you? Your train of thought was brought back to reality when your stomach growled about ten minutes later, you’d been in the middle of eating your own food when Stiles and Peter had their argument.
“Guess that’s my cue to cook you breakfast”  Peter’s voice rasped below you. You jumped internally​.
“How uh… How long have you been awake?” You gazed at him from above.
“About twenty minutes” you could almost hear the smile on his face. Your cheeks grew hot because you’d only been awake for a few. “What were you dreaming about?” He asked mischievously. He loosened his grip slightly, only to tilt his head to look at you.
“Rainbows and Unicorns” you deadpanned, looking away from him, you wouldn’t give Peter the satisfaction. He looked at you with desire, Peter was never one to back down from a challenge so he let a slow smile cross his lips as he slowly unwrapped himself from you and slid so that his head was burrowed into your neck, never letting his body stop touching you. He brought his lips to your ear.
“Lucky unicorn” his breath tickled your cheek and he let his tongue graze your ear. “How do you like it?” Your head turned instantly and you met his gaze.
“W-what?” In a second, Peter stood with his regular amused smirk and a lazy stretch, you hated how you had to force your eyes to stay on his face so as not to look down to the small line of skin that was peeking out from under his shirt as he raised his arms.
“Your bacon? I’m cooking you breakfast” the smirk he wore now stretched into a smile. Ladies and gentlemen, Peter Hale is back. You followed his lead and stretched before you left the bed.
“Extra crispy” you tried to run your fingers through your hair but you were met with a clump of leaves and mud. “I’m gonna need to borrow your shower” you told him with a scrunched face.
“Be my guest.” He pointed towards his master bath “towels are in the top cupboard” you nodded and headed towards his bathroom, saying it was huge was an understatement, this place was massive. Who needs this much room to shower? You couldn’t help thinking. There was a large jacuzzi tub on the far right side and you contemplated just hopping in and forcing Peter to bring your breakfast in while you bathed, a small giggle bubbled out at the idea, to your direct left was a door that you could only guess held the toilet.
You found the cupboard full of fluffy grey towels. And stepped into the large clear shower, it was one of the ones that had those blurred lines going through the middle so that if anyone were to be there they would only see your shoulders and above and your legs down, the entire torso blurred. You peeled off your muddy clothes and hopped into the now steaming shower. You sighed as the water hit you and thought about the previous night’s events. You couldn’t imagine how Peter felt, he may have gone about his revenge differently than the others may have liked but, it was revenge. Being with a group of supernaturals around the clock made you a little more cold hearted than you would have liked. Every one one of your friends had blood on their hands, though they didn’t like to admit it. Peter did though, he was accepting of what he did - of who he was, even if he was a little over the top at times.  Maybe that’s why you held such a soft spot in your heart for him, he never hid from you, his intentions were clear… for the most part.
You reached for your towel and wrapped it around yourself, looking around for your clothing as you stepped out and saw a pair of folded sweatpants and a too small tank top with lace straps in place of your clothing. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander as you pulled the top over your head and saw that it hugged you tightly and stopped just below your belly button. You blushed a little at the contrasting sweatpants that were much too large, they had to be Peter’s own. You tossed the towel in the hamper and walked out into the hallway following the smell of freshly cooked bacon.
As you made your way to the kitchen, you were met with a shirtless Peter, humming as he moved his way around the kitchen effortlessly. His hair still damp from a shower if his own, you avoided looking at his chest. “Thanks for the clothes” a pause, “won’t she miss her shirt” a little venom, you didn’t want to add laced your last few words. You weren’t jealous, you just thought it a little rude to give a woman another’s shirt. You were convincing yourself.
A chuckle bubbled out of him and he gestured for you to sit at the small dining table, you did. “You’re very welcome” he placed your plate with bacon eggs and small pancakes in front of you, orange juice had already been placed on the table. “I don’t think she’ll miss it very much at all” a knowing smile as he sat next to you with his own plate. You rolled your eyes and kept the conversation light after that. You both avoided talking about last night’s happening and you knew he was secretly grateful. You raised an eyebrow as he stood halfway finished with his food. “Haven’t you been wondering where your clothes are?” He answered your confused look and began walking away. “They’re in the wash” you thought back to the stripped bed and tossed a grateful smile and thought about the underwear you’d worn last night, satisfied with the lacy bra and boy short set you remembered wearing.  Not that it mattered.
“Put on some clothes!” You yelled as you heard him fumble about in the unseen laundry room. You had a very satisfied look on your face when he came back with a Henley top now hanging loosely on his torso. You kept your conversation as you both finished your meals. You chose to wash the dishes, it was only right as he was being so hospitable. A thought hit you and you couldn’t help but grin as you looked at him “Peter, am I your best friend?” The way you spoke to one another was a lot more casual and open than when he spoke to the others. You thought back to your relationship, every time you were around he was a little looser, you’d definitely been alone with him more so than anyone else, and when the rest of the pack left Peter’s you were always the last, sometimes mooching his food. Maybe you were friends after all.
The question brought a little color to Peter’s cheeks “If we have to put a label on it” he muttered. He stood behind you and leaned in, placing his arms on either side of you. “I’ve never had a best friend though, so you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t know how to behave” his hand inched their way closer to you, until his arms were pressed tightly to your sides.
You cursed your body for the way that it betrayed you, your heart rate grew quickly, you felt yourself getting moist. You had to be a big girl about this though, he’d already won this morning. You turned your body and made sure press your ass against him as you did. “Lesson one:” You stood on your tiptoes and looped a finger through his belt loop as you pressed your lips against his ear, whispering “friends don’t get this close.” you trailed your hand up his torso and flattened your palm against his chest, pushing lightly. He gave you a genuine smile as he backed away.
Your heart jumped and Peter chuckled “You are much better at this than I thought you’d be” he studied you with soft eyes, then hungry ones. “What else can you teach me? And when can I teach you?” He leaned against the sink, still invading your personal space. Flirting was one of your favorite pastimes but, he was laying it on thick.
“I can teach you many things” you took his lead and leaned against the counter with a smirk that matched his  as you watched Peter’s eyes roam your body. The little minx that was brought out of you caught you by surprise but, you couldn’t say that you weren’t enjoying this, you could play this game. Peter let out a low growl in response and made a move to grab you until, the buzz of the dryer sounded and you and Peter both stood. Peter opened his mouth to say something and you saw him visibly decide against it, he turned headed to the laundry roomm.
You took that opportunity to cool down and grab your phone. 12 messages and 9 missed calls. You sent both Scott and Derek the same generic ‘I’m fine, we’re fine’ text and turned when Peter walked in.
“The fan club trying to get ahold of you?” He quirked an eyebrow and you laughed. He held your clothes in his hands and placed them on the table.
“Just trying to see where I ran off to, last night” you shrugged.
“Do they know that you ran off with the big bad wolf?” A wolfish grin formed.
“You’re not so big, and you aren’t that bad” you told him.
“Oh sweetheart, I’m very big, and I can be very bad if you ask nicely” there he was with his growling.
“Oh, I’m sure” you said sarcastically trying to hide the fact that your heart was pounding, that a small wet spot was forming between your legs, that you wanted to see if he was bluffing or not, you tried. But then, your eyes met.
Within seconds you were up against the wall with his lips attacking yours, you didn’t give yourself a chance to think as you were kissing him back feverishly. This was no pretty kiss, there was biting, pulling, grabbing. Peter pushed his hips into yours and you grasped a handful of his hair which earned a moan from him. So much for cooling off. He began to kiss down your neck as one claw ripped the straps of your tank top, your top now hung dangerously low on your breasts. “Peter…we can’t” you said between heavy breaths.
“We can” he let out a sigh and placed a hand on the wall behind you. “We should” you bit your lip and shook your head.
“Best friends, remember?” You smiled a little as you tried to calm your breathing. You held your hand out for him to shake, he glanced at it and shook his head once.
“You and your labels” he sighed and pushed himself off the wall. “You and your everything” he let out a frustrated groan and ran a hand down his face. He took a few more steps back and watched as you stood upright. “Fine. But please don’t let that shirt get any lower because, I promise I’ll show you how big and bad I am” you let out a gasp and covered your chest quickly.
“Sorry” you told him shakily.
“Don’t be.” He said huskily. “Sorry about your shirt, I’ll  buy you a new one” he said with a wink and left the room after handing you with last night’s clothes you put your shirt on quickly and slid the other off.
You both were calmer now, and you were greatful, because there was no way that if Peter made another advance, you’d push him off. You had to get out of there.
You quickly packed your clothes in your purse and put your shoes on.
“Leaving so soon, bestie?” Peter questioned as he walked back into the room, watching your every move.
“Yeah. I’m afraid that we’ll violate our new friendship, bestie” you told him honestly and walked towards the front door, you opened it.
“Right. Best friends” he gave a mock salute and put his hand out for you to shake.
You took his hand in yours and gave a firm shake. “Exactly” you smiled up at him.
“The handshake of death.” Peter remarked and you chuckled. You pulled your hand away but Peter had a firm grip, he loosened his grip on you but held your fingers in his, “Thanks for not treating me like a wounded animal” he said seriously, looking at your hands. He let go of your hand and you gave him a small smile.
The last thing you saw while you were leaving was Peter watching you drive off from his Apartment window.
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thegloober · 5 years
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Red Dead Redemption 2 sets the bar high for the next generation of open world games
It’s been nearly a decade since Rockstar Games introduced Red Dead Redemption, a massive open world game with a story about as reflective of American culture as the Grand Theft Auto franchise.
Tomorrow, Red Dead Redemption II goes live after months of breathless speculation. And yes, it’s as good as you dreamed it. That’s not to say that the layers of interactivity, which are a huge step forward for the next generation of open world games, are not without their faults. But the level of attention to detail, the way that the various components of the game work in conjunction, and the intricacy of even the most mundane activities makes playing Red Dead Redemption 2 feel as authentic as being Arthur Morgan yourself.
But before we dive into the review, it’s worth noting that Devin and I each spent less than a dozen hours playing this game before sitting down to write. In fact, according to the progress bar in my game, I’m less than 20 percent of the way through the story, with even less completed of the challenges and the Compendium (index of items discovered/found). This game is so massive, it would be impossible to bring you thoughtful analysis of the story. We haven’t finished it yet.
We do, however, have some early impressions of the game below. For those looking to avoid spoilers, don’t worry — everything we talk about takes place in the first couple hours of the game and we’ve shied away from naming places, characters, and missions.
A world of details
For a game this big, it kind of makes sense to start with the details. It’s evident that this is an environment not just crafted with care, but presented with directorial intent. That’s important to say right off the bat — this isn’t just a big chunk of land for you to wander, but the stage for a story, and a stage that has been dressed with more care than perhaps any game to date.
It’s easy to talk about square mileage, about how many buildings can be entered, about the hours of dialogue you may encounter. But those are quantitative measures when what matter are the qualitative ones.
The details are what set RDR2 apart. Everywhere you look there are details, from the seams and rips on the dozens of coats you’ll see and wear, to the fact that you have to clean and oil your gun regularly, to how the items you buy are actually on the walls of the general store you visit. The dialogue too is remarkably consistent and well acted, and largely free from anachronism while retaining personality and a sense of humor.
Look at that SNOW.
Although it’s difficult to forget that you’re playing a game, these details make it very easy to fool yourself that the world in which you’re playing is a real place. Nearly everything you do, and how you do it, retains the conceit of the Old West.
I can’t even begin to wonder how much work it took to put this together. I had similar thoughts when I was playing Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, but while the scale and visual grandeur of that game impressed me, RDR2 hits those same notes while also hitting home in the much more difficult areas of authenticity, believability, and consistent direction.
From RDR to L2
One of the loveliest characteristics of RDR2 is how reminiscent it is of the original Red Dead. Riding my horse along a beaten path, normally near a railway, takes me back to 2010. All the things players have done before — shooting, riding, walking through the world — feel similar to the last game, albeit slightly smoother. The cinematic camera (a page out of the GTA playbook) is particularly delightful, especially in autopilot alongside NPCs leading the way.
The world itself is far more alive and full of detail, and this time around, there is something deeper behind each item, NPC, and animal in the game. Red Dead Redemption taught us that our left trigger button was about aim, and aim only. In the next iteration of the game, L2 opens the door to everything else that this immersive world has to offer.
And it’s this untethering of every single object and character in the game that pushes RDR2 steps toward reality, and leaps forward for gaming.
During Story missions, Arthur can use L2 to make real-time decisions about how to ambush a camp. If he focuses on an item on a shelf in the store, the player can open up a menu through L2 to buy or inspect that item. Focus on an NPC walking around camp, and L2 opens up the options to greet or antagonize them. Approach Arthur’s horse, and L2 opens up a larger menu to feed the horse, brush the horse, or pat the horse. But these aren’t just empty actions. Feeding and cleaning the horse fill her health and stamina cores, and patting the horse increases her bond with Arthur, all of which affect the quality of the horse as a tool.
It’s important to note that, if Arthur gun is equipped, L2 defaults to aiming down sights, which sure can frighten a horse or an innocent NPC.
Like a crow bar, L2 cracked open the whole world of Red Dead Redemption. If you can inspect a letter on a nightstand, flip it over and read the back, and put it down again, what should stop you from inspecting a live animal to see if it’s worth hunting. L2 brings up information about the animal like its name, its quality, and what you can get from it.
Intuitive until it isn’t
You can look up from a treasure map (handy) but have to dig through menus to pull it out in the first place.
Not all of the game’s interfaces are so fluid and convenient. Trotting along through town in my horse, I tap L2 to see if I can sketch a bird flying by, or study a farm dog, or hail a passerby (“hey, pardner!”). But then I see my horse is tired and I want to feed it an apple.
To do this I have to hold L1 to open the radial menu, then simultaneously hit R1 twice to get to the horse menu. Then I hold the right stick down in the direction of the item category I want to use, then (while holding L1 and the stick direction) pull the right and left triggers to find the item I want, and let go of L1 (but still hold the stick!) to use it (X and other normal “OK” buttons don’t do it). Are you kidding me?
Meanwhile time continues to pass in the background, albeit slowly, so you’re doing all this under pressure. Hell, someone might even be shooting at you and you’re trying to quaff a health tonic before returning to the weapon menu to pull out the rifle from your horse storage before you get gunned down.
It seems to me that although much of the world and your interactions with it are smoothed and interpreted from context, whenever that wasn’t possible the developers crammed it into this overworked radial menu system. I’ve gotten more used to it as I’ve played, but it still feels like something that started simple and quickly lost its elegance as it turned into a catch-all bucket for “video game stuff.”
There are also systems that are inadequately explained even when there’s opportunity for it. An early mission has you traveling with one of your bandit companions to hunt a big bear he saw a day’s ride away.
I happened to succeed in killing the bear, and loaded my ‘legendary bear pelt’ on the back of my horse. What was I supposed to do with it? Make a rug? I’d heard a little about pelts but precious little. Then I saw on my map that there was a trapper nearby — surely he would provide the tutorial I needed! But although the item’s description specifically said a trapper could turn it into a talisman, the trapper seemed to be able to do no such thing
Did I need to park my horse closer and hail him with it nearby? Did I “have” the pelt, or did it need to be there? Did I need to sell it to him first? Did I have to craft something on my own? Did I need to talk to my mission guy, or the cook who handles pelts in the camp? I had no clue and the game gave me no indication either. I couldn’t just keep it, since it took up valuable space on my horse — I had to turn down giving a lady a ride home because I’d have had to leave the pelt behind.
Ultimately I brought it back to camp, but couldn’t make anything out of it there either. Carts and boxes were everywhere but I couldn’t store the pelt in any of them. I dropped it on the ground and found myself and it teleported to the edge of camp; a message told me that “items dropped in camp will appear in a convenient place” or something. Oh, so the whole camp is a storage area! Nope. As soon as I rode away I was told I’d “abandoned” the pelt and some of its parts would go to the nearest trapper. What?
I don’t envy the developers and the info dumps they have to place like mines throughout this enormous world and story, but it felt like this was just one stumble after another, with relatively core gameplay elements that were almost completely unexplained. It’s an unexpected and forgivable failure given how much goes right, but the contrast is all the more jarring when it happens.
Nothing mundane about it
Eating stew with a beautiful view
RDR2 sets the bar high in a number of ways, but the overarching achievement is how closely this game tries to mimic reality. In some ways, this opens the world up, and in others, it limits you.
Arthur can’t carry around seven guns at once, so his horse stores the guns he can’t carry. If he forgets to equip his guns before running into a shootout on foot, he’s probably in trouble. Likewise, if Arthur goes hunting and loads a bear skin on the back of his horse, there isn’t any room to bring back a bounty target.
But Arthur isn’t just hunting for sport, or even for food. Whereas the last Red Dead focused on hunting as a way to make money, eat, or simply collect animals in the index, hunting now comes with its own system similar to Dead Eye and is paired together with crafting (which I’ll get to shortly).
The hunting system is called Eagle Eye, and it’s slightly reminiscent of the Instinct mode in Hitman. This system lets Arthur track animal trails, paw prints, animal dung, etc. to find his desired prey. Clicking L3 and R3 simultaneously activates Eagle Eye, and then pressing R1 lets you follow the track without remaining in the slow-mo world of Eagle Eye.
Tracking doesn’t work so well for aquatic animals like fish and alligators, but fishing is an easy, laid-back way to gather food or turn a small profit.
Inspecting animals, via L2, ensures Arthur is targeting the right size and quality of animal, and the method by which Arthur hunts affects the quality of the skins. This seems unimportant, but in the exotic world of crafting, you might find yourself caring a lot.
Crafting allows Arthur or other NPCs (like the Trapper, or the camp cook Pearson) to create new items from stuff they’ve gathered in the wilderness. That could mean mixing up some meat with an herb to create a specific dish, which would have its own specific effect on health and stamina, or bringing back a few pelts to have more comfortable and colorful accommodations around camp.
Again, this method of hunting and crafting is more in line with how an outlaw might actually live off of the land in 1899. And in adding Eagle Eye and the ability to craft, the more mundane parts of Red Dead Redemption have come alive. In the last game, hunting was something you stumbled upon. The most interactive piece of it was buying and setting bait. In RDR2, hunting big game like bears and buffalo is nearly as enjoyable an activity as the story missions.
Stone cold or heart of gold?
The honor system from Red Dead Redemption is alive and well in RDR2, but with some added flare. Because the game tries to mimic real life, with all its opportunities and limitations, the honor system is even more consequential now.
Deeper interactivity through L2 allows you to interact with almost every NPC, even those that aren’t involved in challenges or side missions or story missions. What’s more, those NPCs remember you.
In one instance, a man had been bit by a snake and was screaming out nearby a road. I stopped to help him, sucked the poison out, and went on my way. Later, when I rode into town, he was sitting on a bench outside the gunsmith and he called out to me. He said thanks and offered to pay for any gun I’d like to buy inside the gunsmith. My decision to save him, instead of killing him and looting his body, not only gave me honor points but resulted in a reward.
In another instance, I accidentally pulled out my knife when I got in a bar fight. Instead of innocently beating a dude up, I killed him. The townspeople mentioned the murder the next time I came into town, and the only way to get rid of the bounty on my head was to pay it off at the Post Office.
These decisions and their respective results are pretty straight forward. More nuanced, however, is the effect that Arthur’s honor has on the atmosphere of the game. Honor level changes the way that the story plays out, affects the kill cams, alters the music in the game, and changes the way Arthur dreams and writes in his journal.
In the short time we’ve been able to play the game, it’s hard to tell how extremely this affects the game. I did notice, however, when my honor was at its highest level that one of the shootouts was accompanied by up-tempo (almost celebratory) banjo music, and that kill cams had a goldish tint to them. It’s unclear if that was directly related to my honor or not, but it felt like a subtle dynamic change.
This game offers no shortage of customization options, from your horse to your gun to your clothes to your camp. But there is perhaps no more influential factor that separates one player’s experience of the game from another than Honor.
Dear diary
I want to give an especial callout to the detail lavished on the catalogs and books in the game, as well as Arthur’s journal. The tongue-in-cheek period-style descriptions of equipment and clothing items sometimes run to multiple paragraphs, and as there’s no particular hurry for much of the game, why not take the time to read them?
Arthur’s journal is a treat as well. Although it is in some ways just a way to recap the story for you, it’s a pleasure to read the hand-written entries and the main character’s thoughts on events as they played out; missions will be described differently depending on how they ended or choices you made. And meanwhile every place you visit, and every critter you “study” will be sketched in the book in the order you see them.
This isn’t explained or anything, and I was tickled when I figured it out. I had made a long trek back from a mission and stopped by a few places, scoped out a squirrel, some chickens, a deer and some other things in passing. When I went to my journal a few game days later, there they all were in order, as if (as is the intent) Arthur had in fact been jotting them down while I wasn’t looking.
It’s a shame the journal and books aren’t more prominently presented — the journal is in your horse’s pack, or that’s where it ended up for me. Take the time to read it and anything else you come across; as much effort was put into the writing here as it was everywhere else in the game.
Not-so-final word
Needless to say RDR2 gets a hearty recommendation from us despite some nitpicks and even a couple serious cracks in the carefully-constructed facade. It’s a landmark game in the open world genre and an artistic achievement in its own right. It’s worth your money.
That said, our limited time with the game, and choice to play it as though we were regular players and not blast through to the end, means we’re unable to evaluate the entirety of the game. I find it exceedingly unlikely that the game gets worse — if anything, it likely gets better as the story and gameplay concepts progress.
Still, there are a few specifics we should mention that we plan to look at over the next few weeks.
Online isn’t live yet and won’t be for a while. This isn’t core to the main game but will surely be a huge draw as the game ages and its quality will affect whether it’s worth picking up again or recommending to a friend a year or two from now.
The honor system, though we touched on it, is pretty hard to test thoroughly even with two people playing in parallel. We haven’t been able to experience how the game changes significantly to accommodate your choice of amorality or virtue.
The story is in many ways just beginning, not to mention the side stories of your camp members and other figures you encounter. Did Rockstar frontload all the good acting and setpieces? Does it fizzle out at the end? Doubtful but we can’t say one way or the other. Once we’ve both finished the game or gotten far enough to feel confident in our opinions we’ll issue a followup review and link it here.
Source: https://bloghyped.com/red-dead-redemption-2-sets-the-bar-high-for-the-next-generation-of-open-world-games/
0 notes
jimivaey · 5 years
Text
It’s been nearly a decade since Rockstar Games introduced Red Dead Redemption, a massive open world game with a story about as reflective of American culture as the Grand Theft Auto franchise.
Tomorrow, Red Dead Redemption II goes live after months of breathless speculation. And yes, it’s as good as you dreamed it. That’s not to say that the layers of interactivity, which are a huge step forward for the next generation of open world games, are not without their faults. But the level of attention to detail, the way that the various components of the game work in conjunction, and the intricacy of even the most mundane activities makes playing Red Dead Redemption 2 feel as authentic as being Arthur Morgan yourself.
But before we dive into the review, it’s worth noting that Devin and I each spent less than a dozen hours playing this game before sitting down to write. In fact, according to the progress bar in my game, I’m less than 20 percent of the way through the story, with even less completed of the challenges and the Compendium (index of items discovered/found). This game is so massive, it would be impossible to bring you thoughtful analysis of the story. We haven’t finished it yet.
We do, however, have some early impressions of the game below. For those looking to avoid spoilers, don’t worry — everything we talk about takes place in the first couple hours of the game and we’ve shied away from naming places, characters, and missions.
A world of details
For a game this big, it kind of makes sense to start with the details. It’s evident that this is an environment not just crafted with care, but presented with directorial intent. That’s important to say right off the bat — this isn’t just a big chunk of land for you to wander, but the stage for a story, and a stage that has been dressed with more care than perhaps any game to date.
It’s easy to talk about square mileage, about how many buildings can be entered, about the hours of dialogue you may encounter. But those are quantitative measures when what matter are the qualitative ones.
The details are what set RDR2 apart. Everywhere you look there are details, from the seams and rips on the dozens of coats you’ll see and wear, to the fact that you have to clean and oil your gun regularly, to how the items you buy are actually on the walls of the general store you visit. The dialogue too is remarkably consistent and well acted, and largely free from anachronism while retaining personality and a sense of humor.
Look at that SNOW.
Although it’s difficult to forget that you’re playing a game, these details make it very easy to fool yourself that the world in which you’re playing is a real place. Nearly everything you do, and how you do it, retains the conceit of the Old West.
I can’t even begin to wonder how much work it took to put this together. I had similar thoughts when I was playing Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, but while the scale and visual grandeur of that game impressed me, RDR2 hits those same notes while also hitting home in the much more difficult areas of authenticity, believability, and consistent direction.
From RDR to L2
One of the loveliest characteristics of RDR2 is how reminiscent it is of the original Red Dead. Riding my horse along a beaten path, normally near a railway, takes me back to 2010. All the things players have done before — shooting, riding, walking through the world — feel similar to the last game, albeit slightly smoother. The cinematic camera (a page out of the GTA playbook) is particularly delightful, especially in autopilot alongside NPCs leading the way.
The world itself is far more alive and full of detail, and this time around, there is something deeper behind each item, NPC, and animal in the game. Red Dead Redemption taught us that our left trigger button was about aim, and aim only. In the next iteration of the game, L2 opens the door to everything else that this immersive world has to offer.
And it’s this untethering of every single object and character in the game that pushes RDR2 steps toward reality, and leaps forward for gaming.
During Story missions, Arthur can use L2 to make real-time decisions about how to ambush a camp. If he focuses on an item on a shelf in the store, the player can open up a menu through L2 to buy or inspect that item. Focus on an NPC walking around camp, and L2 opens up the options to greet or antagonize them. Approach Arthur’s horse, and L2 opens up a larger menu to feed the horse, brush the horse, or pat the horse. But these aren’t just empty actions. Feeding and cleaning the horse fill her health and stamina cores, and patting the horse increases her bond with Arthur, all of which affect the quality of the horse as a tool.
It’s important to note that, if Arthur gun is equipped, L2 defaults to aiming down sights, which sure can frighten a horse or an innocent NPC.
Like a crow bar, L2 cracked open the whole world of Red Dead Redemption. If you can inspect a letter on a nightstand, flip it over and read the back, and put it down again, what should stop you from inspecting a live animal to see if it’s worth hunting. L2 brings up information about the animal like its name, its quality, and what you can get from it.
Intuitive until it isn’t
You can look up from a treasure map (handy) but have to dig through menus to pull it out in the first place.
Not all of the game’s interfaces are so fluid and convenient. Trotting along through town in my horse, I tap L2 to see if I can sketch a bird flying by, or study a farm dog, or hail a passerby (“hey, pardner!”). But then I see my horse is tired and I want to feed it an apple.
To do this I have to hold L1 to open the radial menu, then simultaneously hit R1 twice to get to the horse menu. Then I hold the right stick down in the direction of the item category I want to use, then (while holding L1 and the stick direction) pull the right and left triggers to find the item I want, and let go of L1 (but still hold the stick!) to use it (X and other normal “OK” buttons don’t do it). Are you kidding me?
Meanwhile time continues to pass in the background, albeit slowly, so you’re doing all this under pressure. Hell, someone might even be shooting at you and you’re trying to quaff a health tonic before returning to the weapon menu to pull out the rifle from your horse storage before you get gunned down.
It seems to me that although much of the world and your interactions with it are smoothed and interpreted from context, whenever that wasn’t possible the developers crammed it into this overworked radial menu system. I’ve gotten more used to it as I’ve played, but it still feels like something that started simple and quickly lost its elegance as it turned into a catch-all bucket for “video game stuff.”
There are also systems that are inadequately explained even when there’s opportunity for it. An early mission has you traveling with one of your bandit companions to hunt a big bear he saw a day’s ride away.
I happened to succeed in killing the bear, and loaded my ‘legendary bear pelt’ on the back of my horse. What was I supposed to do with it? Make a rug? I’d heard a little about pelts but precious little. Then I saw on my map that there was a trapper nearby — surely he would provide the tutorial I needed! But although the item’s description specifically said a trapper could turn it into a talisman, the trapper seemed to be able to do no such thing
Did I need to park my horse closer and hail him with it nearby? Did I “have” the pelt, or did it need to be there? Did I need to sell it to him first? Did I have to craft something on my own? Did I need to talk to my mission guy, or the cook who handles pelts in the camp? I had no clue and the game gave me no indication either. I couldn’t just keep it, since it took up valuable space on my horse — I had to turn down giving a lady a ride home because I’d have had to leave the pelt behind.
Ultimately I brought it back to camp, but couldn’t make anything out of it there either. Carts and boxes were everywhere but I couldn’t store the pelt in any of them. I dropped it on the ground and found myself and it teleported to the edge of camp; a message told me that “items dropped in camp will appear in a convenient place” or something. Oh, so the whole camp is a storage area! Nope. As soon as I rode away I was told I’d “abandoned” the pelt and some of its parts would go to the nearest trapper. What?
I don’t envy the developers and the info dumps they have to place like mines throughout this enormous world and story, but it felt like this was just one stumble after another, with relatively core gameplay elements that were almost completely unexplained. It’s an unexpected and forgivable failure given how much goes right, but the contrast is all the more jarring when it happens.
Nothing mundane about it
Eating stew with a beautiful view
RDR2 sets the bar high in a number of ways, but the overarching achievement is how closely this game tries to mimic reality. In some ways, this opens the world up, and in others, it limits you.
Arthur can’t carry around seven guns at once, so his horse stores the guns he can’t carry. If he forgets to equip his guns before running into a shootout on foot, he’s probably in trouble. Likewise, if Arthur goes hunting and loads a bear skin on the back of his horse, there isn’t any room to bring back a bounty target.
But Arthur isn’t just hunting for sport, or even for food. Whereas the last Red Dead focused on hunting as a way to make money, eat, or simply collect animals in the index, hunting now comes with its own system similar to Dead Eye and is paired together with crafting (which I’ll get to shortly).
The hunting system is called Eagle Eye, and it’s slightly reminiscent of the Instinct mode in Hitman. This system lets Arthur track animal trails, paw prints, animal dung, etc. to find his desired prey. Clicking L3 and R3 simultaneously activates Eagle Eye, and then pressing R1 lets you follow the track without remaining in the slow-mo world of Eagle Eye.
Tracking doesn’t work so well for aquatic animals like fish and alligators, but fishing is an easy, laid-back way to gather food or turn a small profit.
Inspecting animals, via L2, ensures Arthur is targeting the right size and quality of animal, and the method by which Arthur hunts affects the quality of the skins. This seems unimportant, but in the exotic world of crafting, you might find yourself caring a lot.
Crafting allows Arthur or other NPCs (like the Trapper, or the camp cook Pearson) to create new items from stuff they’ve gathered in the wilderness. That could mean mixing up some meat with an herb to create a specific dish, which would have its own specific effect on health and stamina, or bringing back a few pelts to have more comfortable and colorful accommodations around camp.
Again, this method of hunting and crafting is more in line with how an outlaw might actually live off of the land in 1899. And in adding Eagle Eye and the ability to craft, the more mundane parts of Red Dead Redemption have come alive. In the last game, hunting was something you stumbled upon. The most interactive piece of it was buying and setting bait. In RDR2, hunting big game like bears and buffalo is nearly as enjoyable an activity as the story missions.
Stone cold or heart of gold?
The honor system from Red Dead Redemption is alive and well in RDR2, but with some added flare. Because the game tries to mimic real life, with all its opportunities and limitations, the honor system is even more consequential now.
Deeper interactivity through L2 allows you to interact with almost every NPC, even those that aren’t involved in challenges or side missions or story missions. What’s more, those NPCs remember you.
In one instance, a man had been bit by a snake and was screaming out nearby a road. I stopped to help him, sucked the poison out, and went on my way. Later, when I rode into town, he was sitting on a bench outside the gunsmith and he called out to me. He said thanks and offered to pay for any gun I’d like to buy inside the gunsmith. My decision to save him, instead of killing him and looting his body, not only gave me honor points but resulted in a reward.
In another instance, I accidentally pulled out my knife when I got in a bar fight. Instead of innocently beating a dude up, I killed him. The townspeople mentioned the murder the next time I came into town, and the only way to get rid of the bounty on my head was to pay it off at the Post Office.
These decisions and their respective results are pretty straight forward. More nuanced, however, is the effect that Arthur’s honor has on the atmosphere of the game. Honor level changes the way that the story plays out, affects the kill cams, alters the music in the game, and changes the way Arthur dreams and writes in his journal.
In the short time we’ve been able to play the game, it’s hard to tell how extremely this affects the game. I did notice, however, when my honor was at its highest level that one of the shootouts was accompanied by up-tempo (almost celebratory) banjo music, and that kill cams had a goldish tint to them. It’s unclear if that was directly related to my honor or not, but it felt like a subtle dynamic change.
This game offers no shortage of customization options, from your horse to your gun to your clothes to your camp. But there is perhaps no more influential factor that separates one player’s experience of the game from another than Honor.
Dear diary
I want to give an especial callout to the detail lavished on the catalogs and books in the game, as well as Arthur’s journal. The tongue-in-cheek period-style descriptions of equipment and clothing items sometimes run to multiple paragraphs, and as there’s no particular hurry for much of the game, why not take the time to read them?
Arthur’s journal is a treat as well. Although it is in some ways just a way to recap the story for you, it’s a pleasure to read the hand-written entries and the main character’s thoughts on events as they played out; missions will be described differently depending on how they ended or choices you made. And meanwhile every place you visit, and every critter you “study” will be sketched in the book in the order you see them.
This isn’t explained or anything, and I was tickled when I figured it out. I had made a long trek back from a mission and stopped by a few places, scoped out a squirrel, some chickens, a deer and some other things in passing. When I went to my journal a few game days later, there they all were in order, as if (as is the intent) Arthur had in fact been jotting them down while I wasn’t looking.
It’s a shame the journal and books aren’t more prominently presented — the journal is in your horse’s pack, or that’s where it ended up for me. Take the time to read it and anything else you come across; as much effort was put into the writing here as it was everywhere else in the game.
Not-so-final word
Needless to say RDR2 gets a hearty recommendation from us despite some nitpicks and even a couple serious cracks in the carefully-constructed facade. It’s a landmark game in the open world genre and an artistic achievement in its own right. It’s worth your money.
That said, our limited time with the game, and choice to play it as though we were regular players and not blast through to the end, means we’re unable to evaluate the entirety of the game. I find it exceedingly unlikely that the game gets worse — if anything, it likely gets better as the story and gameplay concepts progress.
Still, there are a few specifics we should mention that we plan to look at over the next few weeks.
Online isn’t live yet and won’t be for a while. This isn’t core to the main game but will surely be a huge draw as the game ages and its quality will affect whether it’s worth picking up again or recommending to a friend a year or two from now.
The honor system, though we touched on it, is pretty hard to test thoroughly even with two people playing in parallel. We haven’t been able to experience how the game changes significantly to accommodate your choice of amorality or virtue.
The story is in many ways just beginning, not to mention the side stories of your camp members and other figures you encounter. Did Rockstar frontload all the good acting and setpieces? Does it fizzle out at the end? Doubtful but we can’t say one way or the other. Once we’ve both finished the game or gotten far enough to feel confident in our opinions we’ll issue a followup review and link it here.
Tech Stories Are Here.
Red Dead Redemption 2 sets the bar high for the next generation of open world games It’s been nearly a decade since Rockstar Games introduced Red Dead Redemption, a massive open world game with a story about as reflective of American culture as the Grand Theft Auto franchise.
0 notes
roberttbertton · 5 years
Text
It’s been nearly a decade since Rockstar Games introduced Red Dead Redemption, a massive open world game with a story about as reflective of American culture as the Grand Theft Auto franchise.
Tomorrow, Red Dead Redemption II goes live after months of breathless speculation. And yes, it’s as good as you dreamed it. That’s not to say that the layers of interactivity, which are a huge step forward for the next generation of open world games, are not without their faults. But the level of attention to detail, the way that the various components of the game work in conjunction, and the intricacy of even the most mundane activities makes playing Red Dead Redemption 2 feel as authentic as being Arthur Morgan yourself.
But before we dive into the review, it’s worth noting that Devin and I each spent less than a dozen hours playing this game before sitting down to write. In fact, according to the progress bar in my game, I’m less than 20 percent of the way through the story, with even less completed of the challenges and the Compendium (index of items discovered/found). This game is so massive, it would be impossible to bring you thoughtful analysis of the story. We haven’t finished it yet.
We do, however, have some early impressions of the game below. For those looking to avoid spoilers, don’t worry — everything we talk about takes place in the first couple hours of the game and we’ve shied away from naming places, characters, and missions.
A world of details
For a game this big, it kind of makes sense to start with the details. It’s evident that this is an environment not just crafted with care, but presented with directorial intent. That’s important to say right off the bat — this isn’t just a big chunk of land for you to wander, but the stage for a story, and a stage that has been dressed with more care than perhaps any game to date.
It’s easy to talk about square mileage, about how many buildings can be entered, about the hours of dialogue you may encounter. But those are quantitative measures when what matter are the qualitative ones.
The details are what set RDR2 apart. Everywhere you look there are details, from the seams and rips on the dozens of coats you’ll see and wear, to the fact that you have to clean and oil your gun regularly, to how the items you buy are actually on the walls of the general store you visit. The dialogue too is remarkably consistent and well acted, and largely free from anachronism while retaining personality and a sense of humor.
Look at that SNOW.
Although it’s difficult to forget that you’re playing a game, these details make it very easy to fool yourself that the world in which you’re playing is a real place. Nearly everything you do, and how you do it, retains the conceit of the Old West.
I can’t even begin to wonder how much work it took to put this together. I had similar thoughts when I was playing Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, but while the scale and visual grandeur of that game impressed me, RDR2 hits those same notes while also hitting home in the much more difficult areas of authenticity, believability, and consistent direction.
From RDR to L2
One of the loveliest characteristics of RDR2 is how reminiscent it is of the original Red Dead. Riding my horse along a beaten path, normally near a railway, takes me back to 2010. All the things players have done before — shooting, riding, walking through the world — feel similar to the last game, albeit slightly smoother. The cinematic camera (a page out of the GTA playbook) is particularly delightful, especially in autopilot alongside NPCs leading the way.
The world itself is far more alive and full of detail, and this time around, there is something deeper behind each item, NPC, and animal in the game. Red Dead Redemption taught us that our left trigger button was about aim, and aim only. In the next iteration of the game, L2 opens the door to everything else that this immersive world has to offer.
And it’s this untethering of every single object and character in the game that pushes RDR2 steps toward reality, and leaps forward for gaming.
During Story missions, Arthur can use L2 to make real-time decisions about how to ambush a camp. If he focuses on an item on a shelf in the store, the player can open up a menu through L2 to buy or inspect that item. Focus on an NPC walking around camp, and L2 opens up the options to greet or antagonize them. Approach Arthur’s horse, and L2 opens up a larger menu to feed the horse, brush the horse, or pat the horse. But these aren’t just empty actions. Feeding and cleaning the horse fill her health and stamina cores, and patting the horse increases her bond with Arthur, all of which affect the quality of the horse as a tool.
It’s important to note that, if Arthur gun is equipped, L2 defaults to aiming down sights, which sure can frighten a horse or an innocent NPC.
Like a crow bar, L2 cracked open the whole world of Red Dead Redemption. If you can inspect a letter on a nightstand, flip it over and read the back, and put it down again, what should stop you from inspecting a live animal to see if it’s worth hunting. L2 brings up information about the animal like its name, its quality, and what you can get from it.
Intuitive until it isn’t
You can look up from a treasure map (handy) but have to dig through menus to pull it out in the first place.
Not all of the game’s interfaces are so fluid and convenient. Trotting along through town in my horse, I tap L2 to see if I can sketch a bird flying by, or study a farm dog, or hail a passerby (“hey, pardner!”). But then I see my horse is tired and I want to feed it an apple.
To do this I have to hold L1 to open the radial menu, then simultaneously hit R1 twice to get to the horse menu. Then I hold the right stick down in the direction of the item category I want to use, then (while holding L1 and the stick direction) pull the right and left triggers to find the item I want, and let go of L1 (but still hold the stick!) to use it (X and other normal “OK” buttons don’t do it). Are you kidding me?
Meanwhile time continues to pass in the background, albeit slowly, so you’re doing all this under pressure. Hell, someone might even be shooting at you and you’re trying to quaff a health tonic before returning to the weapon menu to pull out the rifle from your horse storage before you get gunned down.
It seems to me that although much of the world and your interactions with it are smoothed and interpreted from context, whenever that wasn’t possible the developers crammed it into this overworked radial menu system. I’ve gotten more used to it as I’ve played, but it still feels like something that started simple and quickly lost its elegance as it turned into a catch-all bucket for “video game stuff.”
There are also systems that are inadequately explained even when there’s opportunity for it. An early mission has you traveling with one of your bandit companions to hunt a big bear he saw a day’s ride away.
I happened to succeed in killing the bear, and loaded my ‘legendary bear pelt’ on the back of my horse. What was I supposed to do with it? Make a rug? I’d heard a little about pelts but precious little. Then I saw on my map that there was a trapper nearby — surely he would provide the tutorial I needed! But although the item’s description specifically said a trapper could turn it into a talisman, the trapper seemed to be able to do no such thing
Did I need to park my horse closer and hail him with it nearby? Did I “have” the pelt, or did it need to be there? Did I need to sell it to him first? Did I have to craft something on my own? Did I need to talk to my mission guy, or the cook who handles pelts in the camp? I had no clue and the game gave me no indication either. I couldn’t just keep it, since it took up valuable space on my horse — I had to turn down giving a lady a ride home because I’d have had to leave the pelt behind.
Ultimately I brought it back to camp, but couldn’t make anything out of it there either. Carts and boxes were everywhere but I couldn’t store the pelt in any of them. I dropped it on the ground and found myself and it teleported to the edge of camp; a message told me that “items dropped in camp will appear in a convenient place” or something. Oh, so the whole camp is a storage area! Nope. As soon as I rode away I was told I’d “abandoned” the pelt and some of its parts would go to the nearest trapper. What?
I don’t envy the developers and the info dumps they have to place like mines throughout this enormous world and story, but it felt like this was just one stumble after another, with relatively core gameplay elements that were almost completely unexplained. It’s an unexpected and forgivable failure given how much goes right, but the contrast is all the more jarring when it happens.
Nothing mundane about it
Eating stew with a beautiful view
RDR2 sets the bar high in a number of ways, but the overarching achievement is how closely this game tries to mimic reality. In some ways, this opens the world up, and in others, it limits you.
Arthur can’t carry around seven guns at once, so his horse stores the guns he can’t carry. If he forgets to equip his guns before running into a shootout on foot, he’s probably in trouble. Likewise, if Arthur goes hunting and loads a bear skin on the back of his horse, there isn’t any room to bring back a bounty target.
But Arthur isn’t just hunting for sport, or even for food. Whereas the last Red Dead focused on hunting as a way to make money, eat, or simply collect animals in the index, hunting now comes with its own system similar to Dead Eye and is paired together with crafting (which I’ll get to shortly).
The hunting system is called Eagle Eye, and it’s slightly reminiscent of the Instinct mode in Hitman. This system lets Arthur track animal trails, paw prints, animal dung, etc. to find his desired prey. Clicking L3 and R3 simultaneously activates Eagle Eye, and then pressing R1 lets you follow the track without remaining in the slow-mo world of Eagle Eye.
Tracking doesn’t work so well for aquatic animals like fish and alligators, but fishing is an easy, laid-back way to gather food or turn a small profit.
Inspecting animals, via L2, ensures Arthur is targeting the right size and quality of animal, and the method by which Arthur hunts affects the quality of the skins. This seems unimportant, but in the exotic world of crafting, you might find yourself caring a lot.
Crafting allows Arthur or other NPCs (like the Trapper, or the camp cook Pearson) to create new items from stuff they’ve gathered in the wilderness. That could mean mixing up some meat with an herb to create a specific dish, which would have its own specific effect on health and stamina, or bringing back a few pelts to have more comfortable and colorful accommodations around camp.
Again, this method of hunting and crafting is more in line with how an outlaw might actually live off of the land in 1899. And in adding Eagle Eye and the ability to craft, the more mundane parts of Red Dead Redemption have come alive. In the last game, hunting was something you stumbled upon. The most interactive piece of it was buying and setting bait. In RDR2, hunting big game like bears and buffalo is nearly as enjoyable an activity as the story missions.
Stone cold or heart of gold?
The honor system from Red Dead Redemption is alive and well in RDR2, but with some added flare. Because the game tries to mimic real life, with all its opportunities and limitations, the honor system is even more consequential now.
Deeper interactivity through L2 allows you to interact with almost every NPC, even those that aren’t involved in challenges or side missions or story missions. What’s more, those NPCs remember you.
In one instance, a man had been bit by a snake and was screaming out nearby a road. I stopped to help him, sucked the poison out, and went on my way. Later, when I rode into town, he was sitting on a bench outside the gunsmith and he called out to me. He said thanks and offered to pay for any gun I’d like to buy inside the gunsmith. My decision to save him, instead of killing him and looting his body, not only gave me honor points but resulted in a reward.
In another instance, I accidentally pulled out my knife when I got in a bar fight. Instead of innocently beating a dude up, I killed him. The townspeople mentioned the murder the next time I came into town, and the only way to get rid of the bounty on my head was to pay it off at the Post Office.
These decisions and their respective results are pretty straight forward. More nuanced, however, is the effect that Arthur’s honor has on the atmosphere of the game. Honor level changes the way that the story plays out, affects the kill cams, alters the music in the game, and changes the way Arthur dreams and writes in his journal.
In the short time we’ve been able to play the game, it’s hard to tell how extremely this affects the game. I did notice, however, when my honor was at its highest level that one of the shootouts was accompanied by up-tempo (almost celebratory) banjo music, and that kill cams had a goldish tint to them. It’s unclear if that was directly related to my honor or not, but it felt like a subtle dynamic change.
This game offers no shortage of customization options, from your horse to your gun to your clothes to your camp. But there is perhaps no more influential factor that separates one player’s experience of the game from another than Honor.
Dear diary
I want to give an especial callout to the detail lavished on the catalogs and books in the game, as well as Arthur’s journal. The tongue-in-cheek period-style descriptions of equipment and clothing items sometimes run to multiple paragraphs, and as there’s no particular hurry for much of the game, why not take the time to read them?
Arthur’s journal is a treat as well. Although it is in some ways just a way to recap the story for you, it’s a pleasure to read the hand-written entries and the main character’s thoughts on events as they played out; missions will be described differently depending on how they ended or choices you made. And meanwhile every place you visit, and every critter you “study” will be sketched in the book in the order you see them.
This isn’t explained or anything, and I was tickled when I figured it out. I had made a long trek back from a mission and stopped by a few places, scoped out a squirrel, some chickens, a deer and some other things in passing. When I went to my journal a few game days later, there they all were in order, as if (as is the intent) Arthur had in fact been jotting them down while I wasn’t looking.
It’s a shame the journal and books aren’t more prominently presented — the journal is in your horse’s pack, or that’s where it ended up for me. Take the time to read it and anything else you come across; as much effort was put into the writing here as it was everywhere else in the game.
Not-so-final word
Needless to say RDR2 gets a hearty recommendation from us despite some nitpicks and even a couple serious cracks in the carefully-constructed facade. It’s a landmark game in the open world genre and an artistic achievement in its own right. It’s worth your money.
That said, our limited time with the game, and choice to play it as though we were regular players and not blast through to the end, means we’re unable to evaluate the entirety of the game. I find it exceedingly unlikely that the game gets worse — if anything, it likely gets better as the story and gameplay concepts progress.
Still, there are a few specifics we should mention that we plan to look at over the next few weeks.
Online isn’t live yet and won’t be for a while. This isn’t core to the main game but will surely be a huge draw as the game ages and its quality will affect whether it’s worth picking up again or recommending to a friend a year or two from now.
The honor system, though we touched on it, is pretty hard to test thoroughly even with two people playing in parallel. We haven’t been able to experience how the game changes significantly to accommodate your choice of amorality or virtue.
The story is in many ways just beginning, not to mention the side stories of your camp members and other figures you encounter. Did Rockstar frontload all the good acting and setpieces? Does it fizzle out at the end? Doubtful but we can’t say one way or the other. Once we’ve both finished the game or gotten far enough to feel confident in our opinions we’ll issue a followup review and link it here.
Source TechCrunch https://ift.tt/2Ar35T4
Red Dead Redemption 2 sets the bar high for the next generation of open world games – BerTTon It’s been nearly a decade since Rockstar Games introduced Red Dead Redemption, a massive open world game with a story about as reflective of American culture as the Grand Theft Auto franchise.
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It’s been nearly a decade since Rockstar Games introduced Red Dead Redemption, a massive open world game with a story about as reflective of American culture as the Grand Theft Auto franchise.
Tomorrow, Red Dead Redemption II goes live after months of breathless speculation. And yes, it’s as good as you dreamed it. That’s not to say that the layers of interactivity, which are a huge step forward for the next generation of open world games, are not without their faults. But the level of attention to detail, the way that the various components of the game work in conjunction, and the intricacy of even the most mundane activities makes playing Red Dead Redemption 2 feel as authentic as being Arthur Morgan yourself.
But before we dive into the review, it’s worth noting that Devin and I each spent less than a dozen hours playing this game before sitting down to write. In fact, according to the progress bar in my game, I’m less than 20 percent of the way through the story, with even less completed of the challenges and the Compendium (index of items discovered/found). This game is so massive, it would be impossible to bring you thoughtful analysis of the story. We haven’t finished it yet.
We do, however, have some early impressions of the game below. For those looking to avoid spoilers, don’t worry — everything we talk about takes place in the first couple hours of the game and we’ve shied away from naming places, characters, and missions.
A world of details
For a game this big, it kind of makes sense to start with the details. It’s evident that this is an environment not just crafted with care, but presented with directorial intent. That’s important to say right off the bat — this isn’t just a big chunk of land for you to wander, but the stage for a story, and a stage that has been dressed with more care than perhaps any game to date.
It’s easy to talk about square mileage, about how many buildings can be entered, about the hours of dialogue you may encounter. But those are quantitative measures when what matter are the qualitative ones.
The details are what set RDR2 apart. Everywhere you look there are details, from the seams and rips on the dozens of coats you’ll see and wear, to the fact that you have to clean and oil your gun regularly, to how the items you buy are actually on the walls of the general store you visit. The dialogue too is remarkably consistent and well acted, and largely free from anachronism while retaining personality and a sense of humor.
Look at that SNOW.
Although it’s difficult to forget that you’re playing a game, these details make it very easy to fool yourself that the world in which you’re playing is a real place. Nearly everything you do, and how you do it, retains the conceit of the Old West.
I can’t even begin to wonder how much work it took to put this together. I had similar thoughts when I was playing Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, but while the scale and visual grandeur of that game impressed me, RDR2 hits those same notes while also hitting home in the much more difficult areas of authenticity, believability, and consistent direction.
From RDR to L2
One of the loveliest characteristics of RDR2 is how reminiscent it is of the original Red Dead. Riding my horse along a beaten path, normally near a railway, takes me back to 2010. All the things players have done before — shooting, riding, walking through the world — feel similar to the last game, albeit slightly smoother. The cinematic camera (a page out of the GTA playbook) is particularly delightful, especially in autopilot alongside NPCs leading the way.
The world itself is far more alive and full of detail, and this time around, there is something deeper behind each item, NPC, and animal in the game. Red Dead Redemption taught us that our left trigger button was about aim, and aim only. In the next iteration of the game, L2 opens the door to everything else that this immersive world has to offer.
And it’s this untethering of every single object and character in the game that pushes RDR2 steps toward reality, and leaps forward for gaming.
During Story missions, Arthur can use L2 to make real-time decisions about how to ambush a camp. If he focuses on an item on a shelf in the store, the player can open up a menu through L2 to buy or inspect that item. Focus on an NPC walking around camp, and L2 opens up the options to greet or antagonize them. Approach Arthur’s horse, and L2 opens up a larger menu to feed the horse, brush the horse, or pat the horse. But these aren’t just empty actions. Feeding and cleaning the horse fill her health and stamina cores, and patting the horse increases her bond with Arthur, all of which affect the quality of the horse as a tool.
It’s important to note that, if Arthur gun is equipped, L2 defaults to aiming down sights, which sure can frighten a horse or an innocent NPC.
Like a crow bar, L2 cracked open the whole world of Red Dead Redemption. If you can inspect a letter on a nightstand, flip it over and read the back, and put it down again, what should stop you from inspecting a live animal to see if it’s worth hunting. L2 brings up information about the animal like its name, its quality, and what you can get from it.
Intuitive until it isn’t
You can look up from a treasure map (handy) but have to dig through menus to pull it out in the first place.
Not all of the game’s interfaces are so fluid and convenient. Trotting along through town in my horse, I tap L2 to see if I can sketch a bird flying by, or study a farm dog, or hail a passerby (“hey, pardner!”). But then I see my horse is tired and I want to feed it an apple.
To do this I have to hold L1 to open the radial menu, then simultaneously hit R1 twice to get to the horse menu. Then I hold the right stick down in the direction of the item category I want to use, then (while holding L1 and the stick direction) pull the right and left triggers to find the item I want, and let go of L1 (but still hold the stick!) to use it (X and other normal “OK” buttons don’t do it). Are you kidding me?
Meanwhile time continues to pass in the background, albeit slowly, so you’re doing all this under pressure. Hell, someone might even be shooting at you and you’re trying to quaff a health tonic before returning to the weapon menu to pull out the rifle from your horse storage before you get gunned down.
It seems to me that although much of the world and your interactions with it are smoothed and interpreted from context, whenever that wasn’t possible the developers crammed it into this overworked radial menu system. I’ve gotten more used to it as I’ve played, but it still feels like something that started simple and quickly lost its elegance as it turned into a catch-all bucket for “video game stuff.”
There are also systems that are inadequately explained even when there’s opportunity for it. An early mission has you traveling with one of your bandit companions to hunt a big bear he saw a day’s ride away.
I happened to succeed in killing the bear, and loaded my ‘legendary bear pelt’ on the back of my horse. What was I supposed to do with it? Make a rug? I’d heard a little about pelts but precious little. Then I saw on my map that there was a trapper nearby — surely he would provide the tutorial I needed! But although the item’s description specifically said a trapper could turn it into a talisman, the trapper seemed to be able to do no such thing
Did I need to park my horse closer and hail him with it nearby? Did I “have” the pelt, or did it need to be there? Did I need to sell it to him first? Did I have to craft something on my own? Did I need to talk to my mission guy, or the cook who handles pelts in the camp? I had no clue and the game gave me no indication either. I couldn’t just keep it, since it took up valuable space on my horse — I had to turn down giving a lady a ride home because I’d have had to leave the pelt behind.
Ultimately I brought it back to camp, but couldn’t make anything out of it there either. Carts and boxes were everywhere but I couldn’t store the pelt in any of them. I dropped it on the ground and found myself and it teleported to the edge of camp; a message told me that “items dropped in camp will appear in a convenient place” or something. Oh, so the whole camp is a storage area! Nope. As soon as I rode away I was told I’d “abandoned” the pelt and some of its parts would go to the nearest trapper. What?
I don’t envy the developers and the info dumps they have to place like mines throughout this enormous world and story, but it felt like this was just one stumble after another, with relatively core gameplay elements that were almost completely unexplained. It’s an unexpected and forgivable failure given how much goes right, but the contrast is all the more jarring when it happens.
Nothing mundane about it
Eating stew with a beautiful view
RDR2 sets the bar high in a number of ways, but the overarching achievement is how closely this game tries to mimic reality. In some ways, this opens the world up, and in others, it limits you.
Arthur can’t carry around seven guns at once, so his horse stores the guns he can’t carry. If he forgets to equip his guns before running into a shootout on foot, he’s probably in trouble. Likewise, if Arthur goes hunting and loads a bear skin on the back of his horse, there isn’t any room to bring back a bounty target.
But Arthur isn’t just hunting for sport, or even for food. Whereas the last Red Dead focused on hunting as a way to make money, eat, or simply collect animals in the index, hunting now comes with its own system similar to Dead Eye and is paired together with crafting (which I’ll get to shortly).
The hunting system is called Eagle Eye, and it’s slightly reminiscent of the Instinct mode in Hitman. This system lets Arthur track animal trails, paw prints, animal dung, etc. to find his desired prey. Clicking L3 and R3 simultaneously activates Eagle Eye, and then pressing R1 lets you follow the track without remaining in the slow-mo world of Eagle Eye.
Tracking doesn’t work so well for aquatic animals like fish and alligators, but fishing is an easy, laid-back way to gather food or turn a small profit.
Inspecting animals, via L2, ensures Arthur is targeting the right size and quality of animal, and the method by which Arthur hunts affects the quality of the skins. This seems unimportant, but in the exotic world of crafting, you might find yourself caring a lot.
Crafting allows Arthur or other NPCs (like the Trapper, or the camp cook Pearson) to create new items from stuff they’ve gathered in the wilderness. That could mean mixing up some meat with an herb to create a specific dish, which would have its own specific effect on health and stamina, or bringing back a few pelts to have more comfortable and colorful accommodations around camp.
Again, this method of hunting and crafting is more in line with how an outlaw might actually live off of the land in 1899. And in adding Eagle Eye and the ability to craft, the more mundane parts of Red Dead Redemption have come alive. In the last game, hunting was something you stumbled upon. The most interactive piece of it was buying and setting bait. In RDR2, hunting big game like bears and buffalo is nearly as enjoyable an activity as the story missions.
Stone cold or heart of gold?
The honor system from Red Dead Redemption is alive and well in RDR2, but with some added flare. Because the game tries to mimic real life, with all its opportunities and limitations, the honor system is even more consequential now.
Deeper interactivity through L2 allows you to interact with almost every NPC, even those that aren’t involved in challenges or side missions or story missions. What’s more, those NPCs remember you.
In one instance, a man had been bit by a snake and was screaming out nearby a road. I stopped to help him, sucked the poison out, and went on my way. Later, when I rode into town, he was sitting on a bench outside the gunsmith and he called out to me. He said thanks and offered to pay for any gun I’d like to buy inside the gunsmith. My decision to save him, instead of killing him and looting his body, not only gave me honor points but resulted in a reward.
In another instance, I accidentally pulled out my knife when I got in a bar fight. Instead of innocently beating a dude up, I killed him. The townspeople mentioned the murder the next time I came into town, and the only way to get rid of the bounty on my head was to pay it off at the Post Office.
These decisions and their respective results are pretty straight forward. More nuanced, however, is the effect that Arthur’s honor has on the atmosphere of the game. Honor level changes the way that the story plays out, affects the kill cams, alters the music in the game, and changes the way Arthur dreams and writes in his journal.
In the short time we’ve been able to play the game, it’s hard to tell how extremely this affects the game. I did notice, however, when my honor was at its highest level that one of the shootouts was accompanied by up-tempo (almost celebratory) banjo music, and that kill cams had a goldish tint to them. It’s unclear if that was directly related to my honor or not, but it felt like a subtle dynamic change.
This game offers no shortage of customization options, from your horse to your gun to your clothes to your camp. But there is perhaps no more influential factor that separates one player’s experience of the game from another than Honor.
Dear diary
I want to give an especial callout to the detail lavished on the catalogs and books in the game, as well as Arthur’s journal. The tongue-in-cheek period-style descriptions of equipment and clothing items sometimes run to multiple paragraphs, and as there’s no particular hurry for much of the game, why not take the time to read them?
Arthur’s journal is a treat as well. Although it is in some ways just a way to recap the story for you, it’s a pleasure to read the hand-written entries and the main character’s thoughts on events as they played out; missions will be described differently depending on how they ended or choices you made. And meanwhile every place you visit, and every critter you “study” will be sketched in the book in the order you see them.
This isn’t explained or anything, and I was tickled when I figured it out. I had made a long trek back from a mission and stopped by a few places, scoped out a squirrel, some chickens, a deer and some other things in passing. When I went to my journal a few game days later, there they all were in order, as if (as is the intent) Arthur had in fact been jotting them down while I wasn’t looking.
It’s a shame the journal and books aren’t more prominently presented — the journal is in your horse’s pack, or that’s where it ended up for me. Take the time to read it and anything else you come across; as much effort was put into the writing here as it was everywhere else in the game.
Not-so-final word
Needless to say RDR2 gets a hearty recommendation from us despite some nitpicks and even a couple serious cracks in the carefully-constructed facade. It’s a landmark game in the open world genre and an artistic achievement in its own right. It’s worth your money.
That said, our limited time with the game, and choice to play it as though we were regular players and not blast through to the end, means we’re unable to evaluate the entirety of the game. I find it exceedingly unlikely that the game gets worse — if anything, it likely gets better as the story and gameplay concepts progress.
Still, there are a few specifics we should mention that we plan to look at over the next few weeks.
Online isn’t live yet and won’t be for a while. This isn’t core to the main game but will surely be a huge draw as the game ages and its quality will affect whether it’s worth picking up again or recommending to a friend a year or two from now.
The honor system, though we touched on it, is pretty hard to test thoroughly even with two people playing in parallel. We haven’t been able to experience how the game changes significantly to accommodate your choice of amorality or virtue.
The story is in many ways just beginning, not to mention the side stories of your camp members and other figures you encounter. Did Rockstar frontload all the good acting and setpieces? Does it fizzle out at the end? Doubtful but we can’t say one way or the other. Once we’ve both finished the game or gotten far enough to feel confident in our opinions we’ll issue a followup review and link it here.
Red Dead Redemption 2 sets the bar high for the next generation of open world games It’s been nearly a decade since Rockstar Games introduced Red Dead Redemption, a massive open world game with a story about as reflective of American culture as the Grand Theft Auto franchise.
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Inside the fishy world of NYC’s aquarium obsessives
Round middle of the night the auctioneer threw up his hands in dismay.
“Tough crowd!” he shouted. “Wherein are my saltwater humans? Implausible!”
On the block, a stupefied yellow tang — one of the global’s maximum popular aquarium fish, who prefers brackish surroundings — swam suspended in a clear plastic bag. On his head become a starting bid of $10. It becomes a fragment of the retail price of $50 and up for a -inch specimen. However no bidders were biting — but.
It changed into business World as typical at a prolonged Friday evening assembly of the Brooklyn Aquarium Society (BAS) In which a crowd of approximately a hundred hobbyists had convened for their month-to-month confab on the NY Aquarium in Coney Island NYC.
It’s an excellent spot to plumb the depths of new Yorkers’ obsession with aquariums.
The pastime manifests itself throughout the city informs excessive and coffee, eclectic and sublime (suppose big, awe-inspiring displays at region accommodations). Aficionados encompass nearby creditors with dozens of tanks, as well as high-quit indoors designers and installers for posh pads.
But at the BAS meeting, participants desired to develop their collections — and talk them ad nauseam, of direction. The next parcel up for bids: a monster pearl scale goldfish (which could weigh up to two pounds!) sparked a fierce rate conflict, finally going for $ninety-five to a man in the back of the packed room.
The sophistication of the craze has ramped up in current years.
“returned once I joined in ’seventy-four, this was referred to as a goldfish-and-guppy membership,” says former club president Joe Graffagnino, a freshwater stalwart who has 37 tanks in his Dyker Heights, Brooklyn, domestic. They are broadly speaking used for breeding distinct fish, together with the rare wild betta, a colorful specimen with impressive fins.
He presently papers about 200 killed pals with a monthly value of approximately $150, maximum of which goes toward his electric bill (for lighting, pumps, filtration, and many others.).
Decades in the past BAS discussion become confined. “You couldn’t communicate approximately cichlids or catfish,” he remembers. “So then I’d go to the North Jersey club. Every membership had their personal special niche. But now it’s distinct. Anywhere you pass is so blended.” (Yes, that means such as saltwater aficionados, too.)
A century ago, fishkeeping becomes an aristocratic pursuit. Nowadays, the 1 percentage nonetheless holds declare to the best searching tanks. The colorful (quite actually!) pursuit has even sparked a truth Tv display on Animal Planet called “Tanked,” on which Neil Patrick Harris, Shaquille O’Neal, Howie Mandel, Nick Carter, David Hasselhoff and Tracy Morgan have confirmed off their tremendous at-domestic fishbowls.
But the love of aquariums is infrequently limited to the rich. The 1911-based Brooklyn Aquarium Society is the oldest always jogging club of its type in North us, at instances boasting as many as 500 contributors. The ragtag conferences include a social hour, guest speaker and the primary event: the live fish public sale, which every so often lasts into the wee hours of the morning. Proceeds cross returned to the non-profit club, to pay for speakers, field journeys to local aquariums and environmental conservation efforts.
Returned On the high quit, one of the tri-nation location’s most important custom luxurious tank installers is Robert Bray.
He began working at a shop inside the ’70s at 12 years vintage and took it over 10 years later. Today his enterprise — Residence of Fins in Greenwich, Conn. — does tens of millions of greenbacks a year in fish sales, new tank layout and ordinary tank upkeep, he says.
“Very frequently our customers are folks who had aquariums as youngsters. After you’ve had one, you get hooked, and also you tend to have them later in lifestyles,” Bray says. “They’re very enjoyable. Particularly Round right here, we’ve got such busy lives. To wander away in an aquarium is a very excellent factor.”
For children, they also can be a schooling, However, check your finances first. Bray’s expected initial set-up fees for a 250- to six hundred-gallon marine tank in a domestic or workplace: $30,000 to $forty,000. Expect to spend every other $2,000 to inventory up on fish, says Bray, although in his save it’s no longer uncommon to sell a single $20,000 peppermint angelfish or masked angelfish.
His stock mirrors converting trends in aquarium contents — and what it means to make a declaration through the years. “back in the ’80s, we used to do a number of large predatory fish: sharks and eels,” Bray says. “The tendency now could be reef tanks — the coral, the shrimp, crabs, the colorful fish.”
House of Fins customers run the gamut from A-listing celebs to Wall Road strength brokers — for privacy reasons, Bray might only pick out one, Howard Stern, whose tank is rumored to be 7,500 gallons. charge tags can reach into the thousands and thousands. “We did a shark tank that changed into 27 ft long here in Greenwich,” Bray says. “That changed into a $1.4 million dollar installation.”
But that shouldn’t frighten the fin-curious on finances. D. Patrick Donston of Absolutely Fish in Clifton, NJ, says there’s room for every person on this aquamarine avocation. Freshwater tanks have a tendency to be smaller and as a result cheaper to begin up and keep. The ones into saltwater tanks, which generally tend to begin at fifty-five gallons, can Expect to pay more.
“The most a success hobbyists are the ones who take it gradually,” says Johnston. “When the aquarium finally ends up inside the garage sale is Whilst human beings buy the tank and don’t keep in mind the entire sum cost of what it takes to installation.”
As soon as your tank is up and humming, don’t let your fish move belly up. The most not unusual cause they’ll come to be in that top notch fishbowl within the sky is due to overfeeding and infrequent water adjustments, which allow lethal ammonia and nitrates to build up, specialists say.
For people who want only the occasional serenity of an aquarium However can’t make it to Coney Island each weekend, venues provide a few worthy points of interest to ogle. The Kimberly Resort (a hundred forty-five E. fiftieth St.) has a 2, in three hundred-gallon marine aquarium in its lobby with some 340 tropical fish. Midtown’s Dream Lodge (210 W. 55th St.) has a floor-thru cylindrical marine aquarium that connects its foyer to a downstairs occasion area referred to as the Fishbowl. A few years ago, the metropolis spent $750,000 to put in 8-foot-tall saltwater tanks stocked with four hundred fish on the Staten Island ferry’s St. George terminal. And insiders say that Bloomberg LLP’s Lexington Road headquarters maintains marvelous saltwater tanks on Every ground and employs a full-time aquarist.
An evaluation of die-hard fish lovers seem to verify facts: it’s an overwhelmingly male-ruled interest, and it has a tendency to run in households. Marine Park resident Steven Matassa, current president of BAS, says his family now claims 4 generations fun enthusiasts.
“My dad is ninety, and i just needed to cut him down to one big tank from eight, due to the fact he couldn’t care for all of them,” Matassa says. “My son is likewise into fish tanks. My grandson is now 7, he’s into it. When you consider that he became 4 years old, he ought to name all of the fish.”
Matassa, who these days downsized from 20 saltwater tanks to 2 massive ones, is also on a mission to spread the aquarium gospel to The next era of club members.
In a community of growing older traditionalists, this intended pushing buttons.
”We’ve been trying new, progressive things to get younger human beings fascinated,” he adds. “We released our website 5 years ago — But even then a number of the board individuals fought us on it!”
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