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zeldareyesblog · 3 years

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Bayonetta 2: The Controversial Witch Trials

**This was a responsive essay that I had written back in February 24, 2020 and revised on March 1st, 2020 for “Introduction to Composition” college class. Yes, I got an A+ on this.**

Bayonetta 2: The Controversial Witch Trials

In Giuseppe Nelva’s article, “Bayonetta 2’s “Over-Sexualization” Complaint: A Perfect Example of What’s Wrong with Modern Reviews”, I found the reviews of the game to be unfair because Bayonetta 2 was judged based on the amount of provocative imagery it contained rather than Platinum Games’ improvement from the first Bayonetta’s gameplay, mechanics, and creative execution. Nelva’s concerns were the same as mine because we believed that no videogame should be judged by the amount of controversial content it has. Instead, video games should be judged if the video game’s creators have exceeded beyond expectations to entertain the players.

Video game reviewers are needed to help companies like Platinum Games improve their work ethic, so that the next video game they make from that specific series would not feature the same issues again. However, we have big video game reviewers like Polygon, who has judged this video game based on its “blatant over-sexualization” rather than Bayonetta 2 game’s execution as quoted from article, “I won’t guess why the blatant over-sexualization is still there, often more intensely than before. But it causes an otherwise great game to require a much bigger mental compromise to enjoy.” Even though a 7.5 out 10 would not be considered an awful rating for Bayonetta 2, it deserved more than that and it also deserved a more objective review rather than a subjective review despite the obvious adult content mentioned by Polygon’s throughout most of the review. While Bayonetta 2 did include sexual themes and references throughout the franchise and characters as much as strong language and violence is concerned, should it be used to solely judge the merits of a videogame? What if the creators of Bayonetta 2 intentionally put the controversial content there to show how our virtuous boundaries could be broken under harsh circumstances, but can still become a strong, wise, and beautiful person against all odds?

To be honest though, I did understand that when my mother and I bought this video game from GameStop just last year during the holiday semester break as my New Year’s Eve present when I was 19 years old, she and I were both already aware of the content. Such as female characters being portrayed in a sexualized manner with extremely exaggerated proportions displayed in tight-fitting suits while in combat. There were also female characters being stripped of those suits for a brief amount of time to summon “infernal demons” as an aid in combat for huger enemies until their wicked weaves covered their private parts, and the innuendos spoken while the female characters interact with male characters in advance. However, the reason my mother approved of me playing that game, regardless of the adult content, was because she took her time to educate me about such content prior to succeeding my first semester in college. Because of our mother-daughter conversations, it was still pointless to judge the game based on its own provocative content and more on how it has executed itself as an entertainment medium as a result. Unlike most parents that I met who let my friends play M-rated video games before they completed their secondary education and reached the appropriate age, my mother never let me play any M-rated game until I completed my secondary education and when I reached the appropriate age of 17 years old or older according to the Entertainment Ratings Software Board (ESRB) guidelines because she believed that proper education and parental guidance would develop a real sense of maturity and high tolerance on all adult content that I would be exposed to in the future and she was right about that.

Furthermore, when I compared my now adult self to the friends that played a variety of M-rated videogames while they were underaged and still in middle school a very long time ago, I remembered that they were complete hyperactive chatterboxes to the point of aggravation, became more aggressive in their gaming habits and personalities, and even learned new curse words that I have never even heard before. When it came to sexually suggestive content in mature-rated video games, my old middle school friends did not seem to process that kind of content in a composed and civilized manner which resulted in them having some misogynistic and judgmental views of women, especially fictional video game women like Bayonetta who had self-confidence on and off the battlefield and remained fearless in her sexuality and beauty. Although, I did not blame M-rated video games alone because I knew that it was obviously the parents who enabled their underaged children to play those mature-rated video games since they were impatient and did not take the time to teach their kids about what kind of content they could be getting themselves into if they bought the game no matter how entertaining it was, and why they should not expose themselves to it until they are at the appropriate age anyways.

Moving on, Nelva has mentioned in his article that “What should be reflected, first and foremost, in a review’s content and in its score is the game’s quality, and while several aspects of “quality” are subjective, there are also many that aren’t. Production values are an example: graphics, animation, audio, textures, effects; Those are objective aspects of a game’s value that should not be overlooked.” As somebody that has owned and played this video game series, in my perspective I think that Bayonetta 2 has exceeded expectations from the Bayonetta 1 when it came to smooth gameplay mechanics – being able to reduce the amount of constant button pressing to fully complete charging attacks. Not only that, but Platinum Games has provided extra abilities for players such as giving Bayonetta the ability to glide on higher platforms with her Madama Butterfly Wings after jumping upwards and a variety of random “hack and slash” combo attacks on all bosses and mini bosses that will leave the players in suspense on what Bayonetta would do next, and included online gameplay levels and offline quests that challenge the players’ skills after completion of the story mode. The graphics and textures of Bayonetta 2 were beautifully executed to even reach cinematic levels of gaming throughout cutscenes and gameplay with the camera angles strategically displayed on the entire environment, and used closeups appropriately on the characters to present details on their unusual cosmetic makeup, clothing designs, and accessories as the characters communicated with each other. As for audio, the music soundtrack provided a mysterious, foreboding, yet epic emotions that could keep all players on edge and interested in the story mode. Furthermore, the dialogue between the characters was uniquely portrayed and ranged from what strong, young women and men would realistically say or react if they had encountered any enemies based on their three-dimensional personalities. If videogame players were tight on budget to own a headset, they could still experience the same amount of interactive and immersive fantasy-adventure gaming that Bayonetta 2 has provided as an entertainment product that would keep the players entertained for many years to come.

That objective review I made would convince so many young adult audiences to play Bayonetta 2. Eventually, it would have gained plenty of new fans to move this game up the ranks from being stuck in the “under rated” games category to gain widespread popularity. Never had I put in my own opinion on Bayonetta 2’s provocative content, because I know that judging a game based on what kind of adult material it had was not my job as a reviewer and I already assumed that my audience knows better what kind of material they would get themselves into before buying the game to begin with.

What amazed me now was how the world wanted to showcase diversity and promote less censorship in the entertainment industry. Although, once we get what we asked for there are a lot of negative people out there on the internet that make so-called entertainment reviews to talk about how the characters in a television show, movie, or videogame do not fit their own beliefs. According to Nelva, “It saddens me that between the many calls for diversity we’ve seen lately, some actually fly in the face of diversity itself by implying that games that celebrate sexuality and beauty like Bayonetta 2 should not exist or are not worth playing and enjoying.” This quote was a reminder to me that I should not judge any video game based on the number of suggestive themes it contains, but if it exceeded my expectations on quality video game entertainment.

Overall, I believed that Bayonetta 2 was a compelling video game that unfortunately received a bad reputation since huge video game reviewers like Polygon judged this video game based on the amount of provocative content it contained rather than the actual gameplay and creative execution itself. The creators behind Bayonetta 2 were considered artists because they told a narrative story and designed characters beyond our own imagination and made money from our fascination in this fantasy, action, and adventure game. Besides that, the purpose of video games was to provide another form of quality entertainment that all young adult audiences could enjoy at their own leisure time and Bayonetta 2 would have been one of those videogames if we had better reviewers that judged it based on gameplay and performance, instead of content.

Works Cited

Nelva, Giuseppe. “Bayonetta 2's ‘Over-Sexualization’ Complaint: A Perfect Example of What's Wrong with Modern Reviews.” DualShockers, DualShockers, 17 Oct. 2014, www.dualshockers.com/bayonetta-2s-over-sexualization-complaint-a-perfect-example-of-whats-wrong-with-modern-reviews/.

#bayonetta #bayonetta2 #nintendo #sega #platinum games #video games #videogame #college #composition #essay #college essay

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kyndaris · 3 years

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A Vikingr Saga for the Ages

Ever since the first game in the franchise, I was enraptured by the idea of stalking my prey on the rooftops of Renaissance Italy and then leaping down - slaying them with a flourish. I didn’t know it yet but the marriage between history and stealthy parkour had me hooked from the very first trailer for Assassin’s Creed. When the series pivoted towards mythology and set further in history than ever before, I eagerly followed. From Ptolemaic Egypt to Ancient Greece. It should come as no surprise that I devoured, then, that I devoured as much of the world that I could in the latest entry: Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla. And after clocking in just under 150 hours, there is much for me to unpack in Ubisoft’s latest entry into the Assassin’s Creed franchise. That, and a fierce desire to finally start watching Vikings.

When I initially booted up Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla (AC:V), I will admit that I was a little disappointed with the control scheme. Once again, Ubisoft had made it a confusing mess with trigger buttons instead of face buttons used to attack. Since I had just come from Spider-Man: Miles Morales, it took a good long while for me to adjust. Several hours later, after fumbling through my first battle with a lost drengr (I actually dumbed down the difficulty a litte), I finally managed to find my footing and was on my way to England to scrape out a place for the Raven Clan.

As for stealth...well, the less said about it the better. I never found it effective. It was much easier to smash my way through, axe in hand (or greatsword) and lay waste to their paltry resistance with a mixture of heavy attacks and parrying. I also, hardly used the bow (one of my favourite weapons to being stealthy in Origins and Odyssey).

The story in AC: V is a little messy. Most of it is done through a separate arcs for each territory Eivor ventures through: from East Anglia to Snotinghamscire, with little to link it all together except the main character. Were it not for the very loose story threat surrounding Sigurd and the conquering of Mercia to establish a firm foothold in this new land of England, many of the storylines could be regarded as standalone adventures in Eivor’s epic saga of conquest.

That doesn’t, of course, mean it’s bad. Merely disjointed. Particularly when I went from Jorvik and its Yule Tide celebrations to Glowecestrescire that was right in the midst of Samhain right after each other. Did I go back in time? Or did almost an entire year fly past Eivor with none the wiser?

Still, even though they were mostly standalone storylines, I still very much liked all the characters I met along the way. My favourites were the earnest Hunwald, noble Ceolbert (his death was almost as bad as all the horse deaths I’ve encountered in video games) and fun-loving Twydwr (particularly when he and Eivor were drunk, and messing with the local chickens) On the Norse side, I very much enjoyed the banter between Eivor and her childhood friend Vili. But the one that I admisted most was Soma. She was the jarlskona of Grantebridgescire - the first place I explored after landing in England. And one, I hoped I could romance to some degree. Alas, my hopes were dashed on that end.

What I did find a little intriguing were how Sigurd and Eivor were sages for the Isus: Odin and Tyr. And in their little Raven Clan, revealed much later, was also Freyr. It seemed strange that so many of the reincarnated Isu were all incredibly close at hand.

In this title, Ubisoft was able to focus again a little more on their complex lore that was seeded throughout the first few games. And while some questions were answered, it still left plenty of mysteries of where the games go from here - particularly from a modern-day standpoint. Though I am reluctant to see the franchise go, it does feel like Ubisoft is finally coming to a close on the grand story that they are trying to tell. What the end result turns out to be is still to be determined, but more emphasis needs to be focused on the central conflict.

For a game that still has Assassin’s Creed in the title, Eivor’s connection with the order and their enemies seemed very tangential. While I killed many Order of the Ancient members, there was no sense of personal investiture, like, say with Ezio’s quest. The only ones that I felt motivated to put an end to were Fulke and Kjotve the Cruel. Unfortunately, all the build-up in the first scenes with Eivor were quickly resolves within the first two to three hours of the game, and Fulke’s arc was all but over in the half-way point.

I suppose the main reason for my discontent with the narrative of AC: V is the fact that there is no Big Bad for Eivor and her Raven Clan. Yes, Aelfred of Wessex is a ‘villain’ that hinders our protagonist, but he never felt like an oppressive threat.

Basim’s reveal, somewhat late in the game, was also a little underwhelming. Yes, he did look an awful lot like Loki, but how did he manage to get to Norway? He hadn’t accompanied Sigurd and Eivor. Did he travel with a third party? How did he know that Sigurd and Eivor would be in the ruins of an Isu temple? So many questions, so little time.

Then there was the whole ‘Heir of Memories’ and the fact that Layla seemed so worn. After finishing Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, my last impression of her was receiving the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus from Kassandra and being hopeful for the future. Fast forward to AC: V and Layla is tired. The world is on the edge of destruction once again and she’s now paired up with married couple: Rebecca Crane and Shaun Hastings (the two last appearing undercover in Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag).

On a side note, why are their adventures all done in the comics or some other media? AND WHY DO I NOT HAVE ACCESS TO ANY OF THIS?

And because I didn’t play the expansions for Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, I knew too little regarding the modern-day struggles with Layla. In fact, I basically resorted to the Assassin’s Creed wiki to bring me up to date. Honestly, DLC should never be story-related. Or, if it is, should be more tangential rather than major. It’s a terrible practice that quite a few publishers do, and which leaves players such as myself playing catch-up.

The only one that landed with any oomph (at least for me) were the Asgard and Jotunheim arcs. These were connected and told the story of Havi as he struggled to find a way to avert his fate. The final battle also proved challenging and climactic. A far cry from the ‘endings’ that the main story provided. In all honesty, I probably should have left that to last while completing everything else first. But the temptation was too great and I was vastly overlevelled.

I also enjoyed the play on the Norse myths. The only downside with the Builder was that there was no horse to help him. And so, there was no sexy mare Loki to tempt away the Builder’s horse - giving birth to Sleipnir. The other stuff, though, was clever. And I liked the references made to other myths, such as fighting against ‘old age’ and Thrym’s disastrous marriage to ‘Thor dressed as Freyr.’

What was also a little odd, at least for me, was that there was no definitive part where the credits rolled. Much like in Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey and Assassin’s Creedy: Origins. Personally, I hate it. Credits give closure and tell gamers that the narrative that they were pursuing has come to an end. It lets me reflect on everything that I experienced and is an indication that I can finally set the controller down.

Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla also came with its fair share of bugs and glitches. Many, after reading up on them, made me frightened to continue. One, in particular, took me a while to figure out an alternative to: entering Lunden. I didn’t help that the more I read, the more I worried about encountering a game-breaking bug. Thankfully, most were simply treasure hoards not loading, late texture pop-ins that were a little frightening, and the drunk Eivor every time I loaded up the game.

Despite its many faults, I still very much enjoyed my time roaming around England, Vinland and Norway as I worked to build up Eivor’s reputation and to ensure her name would be sung for ages to come. Like a true Vikingr, I played copious amounts of orlog, drank mead and tore up the battlefield to create a home for my people.

Even better, at Gunnar’s wedding, I managed to finally woo Randvi (who I abstained from bedding down with earlier on in the game)! That, perhaps, elevated the game for me and I can be happy knowing that all my hard work paid off.

(As an additional aside, I also love how many of the side quests or ‘mysteries’ in AC: Valhalla made references to popular culture. From Winnie the Pooh to Alice in Wonderland. AND ROBIN HOOD! THE NPC CALLED LITTLE JOHN HAD ME GUFFAWING!)

#Assassin's Creed: Valhalla #AC:V #Assassin's Creed #video games #Eivor x Randvi

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quirkykayleetam · 3 years

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The Man’s Escape

This is Espionage Whump written for my Secret Santa @straight-to-the-pain! CW: Hurt no Comfort, Interrogation/Torture, Electrocution TW: Suicide Attempt

The man walked into the hanger with papers for “Lionel Ferguson.” It was a ridiculous name, but when the man’s handler told him his current alias was burned, the agent took whatever new forgeries he could get.

“Mr. Ferguson?” a voice asked from somewhere ahead of him.

“Doctor,” the man corrected, stepping forward through the steel and concrete to his bomber-jacket-clad contact. “I’m afraid there’s been a new discovery regarding osedax. Quite a fuss about it in London's research community. I appreciate you being available at such short notice.”

“Hey, you’re the one paying. I just fly the damn thing,” the stranger chuckled, extending his hand to the man.

Calluses in the right places, slight glove and goggle tans from sunnier times, no weapon lines beneath his baggy clothes when he stretched forward--the pilot was who he seemed to be.

The “customs officials” who met the man in the fuselage were not.

The man fumbled in his jacket pocket for glasses he didn’t need. “Ah, I’m sorry. Did I forget to register our flight path correctly?” He stepped back on his left foot, readying the spring-loaded knife that waited there, and gaining better footing if it came to a fight. “I can be so damned forgetful when it comes to all this,” the man continued, waving his papers at his foes.

The dark looks in their eyes did not change. The man readied for a fight.

He threw his papers at the brown-haired male “official” as the lanky enemy lunged forward. The man smiled as his aim rang true and his fake passport caught his opponent in the nose; the man had quirked the metal bindings just enough to draw a red scrape down the “official’s” face. Scrape-Face was a professional; the distraction did not slow him down much, but perhaps it would be just enough time the man needed.

Then the man fell to his knee as electricity tore through his body and punched the air out of his chest. He gritted his teeth as his muscles tensed in unison, the pain sharp and lancing. The blonde “officer” had been too fast for him, drawing her baton to strike him hard in the ribs while he dealt with her partner. Of course it had to be electric.

He could do this. The man had been trained to endure more volts than this. He just had to focus.

The man readied his attack for the moment the baton disconnected from his side, but again he was too late. The other operative was on him. With a sickening crack, he fell to the horribly-textured plane carpet, feeling blood trickling through his eyebrows from his skull. The woman’s baton buzzed again. He felt the force of it hit his spine like a lightning rod. Then everything went black.

Sensation returned to the man slowly. It felt like jelly was sluggishly reconnecting his neurons. He was upright. His hands were bound tightly behind the chill metal chair. The blood on his scalp had dried into a deep itchy mat. He could feel air on his arms and feet; his opponents had taken his jacket, belt, and shoes at the very least.

The man twitched involuntarily, aftershocks still shaking his muscles. His hands...there was something wrong with his hands. They were bound in metal, but not handcuffs. No, they were immobilized from wrist to fingertips and they hurt, damn it. The pain was piercing and jagged. It was familiar, but not in this context.

A sudden slice of light and echo of sound called the man to open his eyes. In front of him, the brown-haired “officer” lurked behind a table, his fingers tap, tap, tapping across a series of blurry photographs.

The man blinked. He tried his voice. “Am I supposed to be impressed?” He liked to think the “officer’s” scowl deepened slightly at that.

“We know who you are, Mr. Ferguson. We know what you’ve been doing in our country. What we would like to know is why,” the brown-haired agent responded. He leaned closer to the man, deftly turning one of the photographs to face him.

“Do you know this woman?”

The man looked. Whoever these people were, they had obviously gotten the picture from a long-range security camera, professional, but not military-grade. She was a mark. She wasn’t his mark, mind you, but word got around when you were posted in the same place as another agent.

The man stared his opponent in the eye and nodded.

“Then give me a name, Mr. Ferguson. One name, and we can all be on our way.”

The man peered down at the photograph again. It was black and white. In real life, the woman’s hair would be auburn, just starting to fade from old age. The man imagined it blowing in the wind, catching on her calculatedly tasteful hooped earrings and dropping to her shockingly expensive scarf.

“Doctor,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s Doctor Ferguson, if you don’t mind. And this woman?” Despite being held captive, the man gave off the air of smoking a cigarette and setting his feet on the table.

“This woman is Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine.”

“Are you sure you aren’t misremembering that, Dr. Ferguson?” his brown-eyed opponent asked.

The man took a long, slow blink, preparing for what came next, what always came next. “I could be,” he said. “From another angle she looks quite like Kate Winslet.”

For the second time that day, the man’s body suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree of pain. This time, however, the electric current didn’t just stun him; it flowed through him. The man could feel each of his muscles spasming in rickets of pain as the metal of the chair burnt charred creases into his back and legs.

The worst of it was his bloody hands. Not only did the metal surrounding them dig into his skin like the world’s tiniest, sharpest red hot pokers, they literally drew blood with each tremor of his frame. Barbed wire, the man thought suddenly. While these people were a little overzealous with the electricity, they certainly used what they had well.

By the time the current stopped, the man panted heavily, trying to draw air, any air into his body. Sweat joined the blood on his brow.

“And now, Mr. Ferguson?”

The man looked up to see his brown-haired interrogator smiling, his fingers still tapping incessantly on the table between them.

“Now I think she looks like the Virgin Mary telling you to go to hell.”

The man closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see the shadow of his back arching in more and more contorted ways as his tortured continued. He just smelled burnt flesh and tasted the iron tang of blood as his jaw clenched uncontrollably. The man knew he would scream, just as he knew exactly what it would feel like when his voice ran hoarse and his throat could not make sound any more.

He knew no one was coming to save him.

Instead he turned his mind past the agony to the one thing he could control. Using all he had left, the man slowly began rubbing his wrists together. He tried to find the sharpest edges, to use them against the people who set them there. It got harder and harder as he got more and more blood to flow.

Come on, he thought. Come on! Just one slit wrist, enough blood loss, and he was out. No more pain. No more questions. No more tap, tap, tapping, just whatever blank was left after he shuffled off the coil of this life.

The man did not remember when the electricity stopped, only when they came for his wrists with cable cutters and gauze. He fought then, fought with all the ferocity of a feral tiger looking for escape. The last thing the man saw was a young face, no more than eighteen, injecting the sedative into his veins. Of all the people he had ever met, the man thought he hated that face the most.

#Whump #Torture #Interrogated #Electrocuted #Beaten #Suicide Attempt #Interrogation #Electocution #Barbed Wire #Restrained #quirkykayleetam writes

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subasekabang · 4 years

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One Blank Concrete Wall, Primed

Title: One Blank Concrete Wall, Primed Rating: T/PG-13 for swearing and bloodless violence Word Count: 13,700 Pairings/Characters: No ships/Genfic. Neku, Joshua, Hanekoma as main characters. Appearances by most everyone else from TWEWY including Beat, Rhyme, Shiki, the reapers Warnings: brief mentions of past trauma/death (some of the Reapers discuss why they died), angelic/eldritch body horror (no blood or gore), imprisonment Summary: Neku’s in college now, and other than passing through Shibuya’s subway station to get to other parts of the city, he doesn’t really stop by much anymore. But when he gets a serious case of artist’s block before a gallery show, he decided to go back to his old stomping grounds to get inspired. Partner: @soundofez and @songsummoner Author’s Note: This was a fun, super weird piece. I also did some art for it on top of my partner’s work; all the art from me and my partners will appear in the correct parts of the fic on my AO3 link, which will go up Oct. 2. I’ll link in reply to this post with it when that’s up so you can see some really weird stuff (my own art is included below, though!!). Special thanks to Fez for designing college-age Neku’s clothes.

Also, Neku fights (and apologizes to) a building.

Enjoy!

XXX

Neku sighed. Squinting, he rolled up the blinds on his studio apartment a little, taking in the view. One window, the Skytree. The other, he could glimpse the top part of Sensouji’s pagoda. Asakusa was no Shibuya, but it had lots of car free pathways, quirky art stalls, and lots of tourists to draw. And it was a heck of a lot cheaper than living in Ueno.

He could walk to campus in about half an hour on a good day or take the subway just one stop to Tokyo University of the Arts on a bad one. It was convenient and, while a touristy area, surprisingly quiet.

Too quiet today, though. Neku fired up his tablet, pinging his friends. They always called everyone in a big group chat, though there was no obligation to answer.

“Sup, Phones?” Beat grinned into the camera, a giggle heard in the background.

“Beat, are you ever going to actually use his name?”

“I am though!” Best objected. “Neku’s tag is a pair of headphones. It’s practically his name at this point.”

“You’re not going to win on a technicality,” Rhyme chirped, turning the camera so she was in frame. “We’re between takes, anyway. What’s up, Neku?”

“Shit, did I interrupt a shoot?” Neku hovered over the hang-up button.

“I just said we were on break!” Rhyme reiterated, flailing her hands in front of her. “But Beat is shooting with your deck!”

His friend, who had only grown more muscular with the past five years, hefted up his skateboard, showing off the art of a flying squirrel on the undercarriage. “It’s still the sickest one I’ve got. You’d better have another one in the wings when it gets decommissaried, yo!”

“Decommissioned.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s not whatever, Beat,” another voice popped in, the newcomer’s eyebrow quirked in a hint of static as the visual flickered on.

“Sup, Shiki!” Beat said, waving wildly.

“Meet me for drinks when you’re done shooting? I can hop on the subway. It’s only a stop.”

“How’d you know where we are?”

“Beat, you always skate in Ikebukuro,” Shiki said matter-of-factly. “And I’m at school, so I’m only a stop away from you.”

“Oh. Right. Sometimes I wish we kept our mind reading powers,” Beat said with a pout.

“Noooooo thank you,” Shiki said with a grin. “Anyway, what’s all this about? I’ve got ten minutes ‘til my Fashion Sales class.”

Neku scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepishly at the camera. “I… er. Kinda needed some advice. I’ve got a gallery class where my one assignment is supposed to take the whole semester and I’m a bit stuck. I need to hand my draft proposition in by the end of next week.”

“What’s the topic?” Rhyme asked.

“That’s the thing. The art—even the medium—is up to me. Every fine art track has to take this thing. So, it doesn’t need to be painting, but I have to secure a space and create a work to match it. Like, get permission to paint a building, or something like that. Private or public property, just no vandalism. Street paste or yarn bombing is OK in public spaces. Basically, as long as it’s non-destructive; otherwise we need permission from the owner.”

“So, you need to scout out a place and make something that compliments it?” Rhyme asked.

“Yeah. And we can work together if we want. I don’t know my classmates well enough to know if our styles clash though.”

“Sounds tough.”

“That’s why it’s my whole assignment.”

Beat frowned. “I’ve got a good sponsorship going with Wild Boar. Could see if you could tag one of their shops.”

“Maybe,” Neku said. “But I want to step out of my comfort zone a little if I can. It’s a good backup.”

Shiki bit her lip. “Maybe you just need a little inspiration.”

“Little is an understatement.”

“What about that tag mural in Shibuya? Would that be fair game?”

The chat went silent. That wall in question was public property. It was absolutely not game—not for this assignment at least.

“Why?” Neku almost whispered, hoarse. “Why’d you even bring it up?”

“Because it’s been five years, Neku, and you haven’t gone back. CAT did what you’ve been assigned; he was a street artist who also did all these kinds of hired art too.”

“Hanekoma’s gone,” Neku reminded her. “I stopped trying. The shop was destroyed. If he ever came back, he’s not in Shibuya.”

“Then… ignore my bad idea,” Shiki said, not meeting eyes with the camera. “Sorry I brought it up.”

“No! No,” Neku reassured her, forcefully, then quiet, as if he were a deflating balloon. “Sorry if I snapped.”

“You didn’t snap,” Rhyme offered, before changing the subject. “I’ll think on it though; there’s gotta be some struggling coffee shop that could use some art, or something. Anyway… we need to get back to work, now.”

“And I have class. Neku, let’s chat tonight, after dinner? I can swing by your place. We can go get conveyor belt sushi over by Nakamise.”

“That… sounds pretty good, actually. Yeah. Let’s.”

“Later, alligator!” Rhyme said, chipper.

“Yeah! Later!” Shiki added.

“Let’s bounce!” Beat snuck in as Rhyme ended the call.

Neku was left alone to his thoughts.

Shibuya.

He and his friends romped through the city almost every weekend after they were all brought back—at least at first. Eventually exams took over for Shiki and Neku, both hell-bent on getting in Bunka Fashion College and Tokyo Arts respectively. Beat slowly got more and more skate sponsorships with Rhyme as his videographer, making her new dream to shoot the world’s best skater: her brother.

Neku closed his eyes, imagining the gleaming, ad-drenched skyscrapers, a far cry from the view from his apartment window.

Maybe.

Maybe it was time to finally go back; maybe Shiki wasn’t wrong. It was his old stomping grounds, his old home. And it was only a few hundred yens’ ride away.

Neku pinched his forearm once to ground himself, grabbed his wallet and a scarf (courtesy of Shiki’s weaving class, in a sturdy textured purple crepe) and headed out the door.

Xxx

Neku’s palm touched plaster and concrete. Slowly, he slid his hand along the wall, breathing out an exhale. Even in his high school years, when his friends would regularly bum around Shibuya after school and on weekends, he avoided the mural. It wasn’t that he stopped liking it; just… He felt he didn’t need it anymore. He had plenty of CAT’s art to keep him company, from the pins in his pocket to the billboards throughout the city.

Maybe he was young and naïve back then, but looking at the faded piece, partially obscured by other, less impressive tags… well, it didn’t seem very impressive anymore.

“‘Course it isn’t, you brain-dead binomial,” a familiar voice sneered from behind him. Neku whipped around to see Sho Minamimoto, cat whiskers and all, grinning with fanged teeth.

Sho put up his hands as a peace offering, sensing Neku’s hackles rising. “I’m not attacking the living; don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’d really rather not get divided by zero. Again.”

Neku relaxed his shoulders a little but said nothing.

“You’re a leaky faucet, you single-digit integer,” Sho explained, as he pointed to a vending machine, sending a pair of CC Lemon bottles flying out of it and at the two of them. He leaned against the mural, back to it, sliding down to sit and sighing with his drink. “I miss CAT, too, you know. Been the square-root of 25 years since anyone’s seen a new piece of his. Some of the reapers actually thought it might’ve been you.”

Neku laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Me?” he asked, plopping down next to his former enemy, accepting the citrus-flavored peace offering. “I was fifteen. And CAT had been active way before I was born.”

“Thought it was a title, you dumb fractal. Like Pope or Emperor.”

“Expert street artists are called Kings and Queens, you know.”

“And dead ones are Angels,” Sho added with a sage nod. “Trying to one-up a Reaper on art is like trying to find the cube root of i.”

Neku stared down at his soft drink, thinking of Hanekoma. The title suited him in more ways than one, thanks to a little packet he’d found in Mr. H’s shop back when he and Beat snuck in to see if there was anything they could save. Since Hanekoma was CAT, there had been a pretty strong likelihood some of his art was still in the ruined café, but sadly there wasn’t any evidence in there at all. Neku saw faded marks where canvases and an easel had once been stacked in a curious empty back room; someone had beaten them to clearing it out.

Sho pulled Neku out of his thoughts eventually, after one intrepid skater ate pavement attempting to grind the Cyco Records railing.

“What’s eating you, pain-in-my-vector? Well, former.”

“You don’t hold a grudge?” Neku asked curiously.

“It’s a long afterlife. Grudges are useless.”

The two sat in silence for a while, watching the skaters try their new decks outside the Wild Boar at the midpoint of the T section.

“You gonna ask me why I’m here?”

“I know why you’re here,” Sho replied testily, tapping his temple. “Was waiting to see if you’d give me the proof out of your mouth.”

“Right. Mind reading.”

“I can’t see every piece of the equation; that’s not how it works and you know it. But I can solve for x and fill in the blanks.”

Neku sighed. “What can you see?”

“That you’re stuck on a hard problem and you’ve been staring at your homework too long.”

“And by problem you mean—”

“I can’t tell—just some big project is eating you up. At least it’s not Higashizawa. That hectopascal can eat a man whole. I’ve seen it.” Minamimoto slung back his drink. “So, what’s eating you?”

“I mean, other than you being alive again?” Neku asked, eyebrow raised.

“Still dead as I was last you saw me.”

“Last I saw you, you were crushed under a vending machine.”

“Eh, I’ve had worse days.” Minamimoto shrugged. “That infinite asshole of a Composer fixed me back up and sent me right back to work. Now stop stalling, you obtuse angle. Out with it.”

“Artist’s block,” Neku admitted sheepishly. “I’ve got a big project coming up and I just can’t think of the right thing to do.”

Sho laughed, his head flung back and whole body shaking with the action. “Artist’s block, you dithering digit. You don’t think we Reapers never deal with that shit? At least for you, it’s not fatal.”

“F-fatal?” Neku asked, almost dropping his bottle.

“We run on Imagination,” Sho said, chucking his emptied-out drink with force, sending it flying halfway down the alley into a recycling bin attached to a vending machine. “No Imagination, no power. No power long enough and poof, divide by zero. Crunch. Drop a vending machine on me? I’ll walk it off. Go too long without making something…”

Sho went uncharacteristically quiet, running his fingers through a hole in his jeans.

“So, what do you do when you’re stuck?” Neku finally asked.

“I raid the trash. Something always finds its way to me.” Sho pulled a loose thread and threw it to the wind. “I don’t just mean the garbage; I mean the rest of us. Talkin’ it out’s helped. I used to think I didn’t need anybody else. But then I got subtracted out so many times by you ‘n Prisspants, well. Don’t want to admit it but dividing up the work’s helped solve the harder equations.”

Neku smiled, offering a hand. “I can leave you my number if you ever want to talk shop.”

Sho blinked twice, confused. “You’d… help me? I was an irrational digit.”

“So? I was an asshole teenager. I pass through often enough. It’s not much trouble, especially if you’re feeding me,” Neku admitted, shaking his now empty bottle. “You try keeping on weight on a college art student’s budget.”

“Yeah, all right,” Sho said, standing up, swiping Neku’s empty bottle to shove in one of his myriad pockets. “A balanced equation—I dig it. I’m using this in my next piece,” he added, tapping the bottle with a hollow thud. “Thanks… Neku.”

Before Neku had a chance to even realize it was the first time Sho called him by name, the Reaper had vanished back to the Underground, out of Neku’s reach.

Xxx

Neku stood at the mural a few minutes longer, rolling the plastic bottle cap in his fingers. If Sho was alive, well, less dead, then Joshua was still haunting Shibuya from somewhere—Hanekoma, too.

So why was the mural so worn out? Had Mr. H run out of new inspiration himself? Neku sighed, no more ready to tackle the assignment as he hoofed it back to the station, tossing the bottle-cap into the recycling as he passed.

The CC Lemon Sho had expertly pitched was mysteriously absent from the top of the pile.

“If Sho went dumpster diving to make recycled friendship bracelets, I think I’ll actually bust a rib laughing,” Neku muttered to himself.

“Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Neku whipped his head around to see a Reaper in a basic hoodie. A faceless grunt, one of at least tens, if not hundreds, patrolling the city. No visible wings, so at least Neku could remind himself he hadn’t gone sliding into the UG. Just another Reaper coming up to the RG for air. Or to pester him.

Or both.

“Do I know you?” Neku asked, eyeing the teenage-looking apparition in oversized clothing.

The boy huffed. “The Reaper Review remembers you.”

Neku laughed and relaxed a little. “At least you’re not the Reaper who made me show up in all Mus Rattus to break their barrier. Or the other one who made me get them a chili dog.”

“When you’re a minor officer, you’re allowed to send Players on wild goose chases,” the Reaper said with a shrug. “I’m just happy I was allowed to block mine with trivia. I hate fighting.”

“You and me both,” Neku grumbled.

The reaper tipped his hood back slightly, enough to show Neku his ethereal looking eyes. “I overheard you had artist’s block. Er, sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. It’s the worst.”

“Great. Is my mind safe from any of you?” Neku groaned, though it wasn’t in anger. He couldn’t complain. Hearing the livings’ thoughts just happened when you were dead.

“Actually, I was guarding the mural and overheard your chat with the Lieutenant.”

“Oof. Minamimoto got a demotion?”

“He seems happier in the field, anyway,” the Reaper replied with a shrug. “More time for his sculptures and harassing players.”

Neku looked at the Reaper curiously. “Sho mentioned you all do art. Have to keep your Imagination up.”

“That’s… not entirely true. I mean yeah, gotta keep the creative juices going or we stop existing. But it doesn’t have to be through art. Cooking, dance, whatever goes. When I’m stuck, I usually learn from another Reaper. Gives me some perspective.”

Neku’s smile widened. “You’re right, you know. I need to broaden my horizons. What do you do?”

“Me? Uh… I design puzzles. The player traps and stuff.”

“Ugh,” Neku groaned.

“You paint, right? I remember seeing some of your tags under the Miyashita Park underpass a few years ago. You’re pretty good. Maybe… try heading over near Shibu-Q? The Reapers that dance usually practice that way—sidewalk is wide enough. Loosen up with some life drawing or something.”

Neku smiled. “I have to do an installation project, but you know what? That’s not a terrible idea. Thanks.” He looked to the corner where Shibu-Q stood and then back at his nameless friend, but the Reaper was already gone.

Xxx

Neku didn’t know what he was expecting to find outside Shibu-Q, but a pair of Harrier Reapers doing acrobatic dancing was not it. Neku smirked as he watched the reaper woman with electric purple lipstick—Uzuki, if he remembered correctly—pirouetting before using her friend as a vaulting block to spin up and over his back.

The two continued their routine, the man—Kariya, Neku remembered after a few embarrassed moments of mental fumbling—seeming lazy and unmoving but carefully and precisely supporting his partner’s flashy moves. The two continued for another ten minutes or so, then each held out a hat for change.

Neku patted himself down for his wallet before dumping three 500-yen coins in Uzuki’s hat as it passed around. She glared at him a moment, then pushed the coins back in his face.

“Not taking money from you,” she snipped. “I already owe you enough. Shoo.”

Kariya looked over his shoulder at Neku, momentarily confused. After all, the two of them hadn’t aged a day while Neku was now a lanky, slightly scruffy young adult. Realization crossed the Reaper’s features slowly, eventually tugging his mouth into a half grin. Kariya offered Neku a backwards half-salute and went back to waving his hat around for change.

Eventually the crowd dispersed. Kariya loped over to Neku and Uzuki, clapping Neku on the shoulder. “Hey, kiddo. You’re as tall as I am now. Good on you. How’s life treating you?”

Neku couldn’t help but laugh at the double meaning behind the words. “Busy. College.”

“You know, I wondered when I would stop seeing you run around the RG so much over here.”

“Never mind me,” Neku said, sloughing off Kariya’s friendly gesture and looking at the two of them. “How are you holding up?”

“How do you think?” Uzuki spat. “There weren’t many powerful Reapers left after that mess—at least for a while. So, some ass went and got themselves promoted to Conductor.”

Kariya looked down at his feet, blush going all the way across his face. “It’s not like I asked for it; I wasn’t given a choice. At least I negotiated that I could do things my way. Uzuki’s my GM.”

Neku frowned. “So… then you know the Composer.”

Kariya’s eyes went uncharacteristically fierce. “That’s on a need to know basis and—”

“Read my mind then,” Neku countered. “There’s something I do need to know.”

Neku closed his eyes and thought of Joshua. What he really wanted was to talk to Mr. Hanekoma, but the only way he was going to be able to do that would be going to Joshua first.

Kariya whistled low. “Okay. Fine. Kid, come here a sec.”

“Kariya, come on. Why are you even telling this kid anything? He’s alive. And—”

“He knows about Josh, Uzuki, I’m not giving him anything new. Just… maybe pointing him in the right direction.”

Uzuki pushed a loose strand of burgundy hair from her eyes. “Fiiiiine, whatever. You’re the boss.”

“You’ve seen him?” Neku asked quietly.

“’Course I have. He’s my boss,” Kariya said with a sigh. “Though he only comes to speak if he feels like it. I’ve caught him sulking over past the Miyashita Park underpass though. No clue why. Out there is just a bunch of sporting goods stores and Josh and physical activity mix like oil and vinegar. Hope that helps. What do you need him for, anyway? You’re alive.”

“It’s not him I’m even looking for,” Neku admitted. “I want him to tell me what happened to an old friend.”

Kariya relaxed a bit. “If said old friend has anything to do with the UG, might as well ask me.”

“I’m looking for CAT.”

Kariya frowned, scratching the back of his head in contemplation. “CAT was a Reaper? He— or she, I guess— stopped doing anything new after I became Conductor. Yeah. You’d have to speak to Josh. That’s before my time and below my pay grade.”

“Thanks anyway, Kariya,” Neku said, genuinely appreciative. “It’s better than nothing.”

“Anytime. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Neku closed his eyes a moment, sighing quietly. “Hope so too,” he muttered, opening them to an empty sidewalk.

Xxx

Neku headed eastbound towards Cat Street, passing Stride on the left. Gone were the Tin Pin banners, long since replaced with whatever new plastic toy battling fad that had taken hold of the local kids.

“You know, I heard a commotion from some of the older guard that a carrot was running around Udagawa.”

Neku had whiplash. Poised behind him with a cigarette loosely held in between his middle and ring finger was a face Neku couldn’t believe he was seeing.

“Seven?” Neku asked incredulously. He reached out his hand for the bleach-blonde, swaggering musician’s to find it cold as ice. Neku frowned. “Smoking kills, you know.”

777 played with the cigarette between his fingers. “How d’you think I died?” He gave a cocky grin. “Actually, I fell off a roof rigging an abandoned warehouse party. This is why you do safety checks. Tenho still gives me grief about it.”

Neku smiled weakly. “That bites.”

“The dust? Oof. Yeah. But hey, all three of us went down at once. The party scattered and when we showed up to play a new set a few weeks later nobody realized we weren’t exactly alive. They probably thought we broke a bone or two at worst and hid to lick our wounds—not cracked our skulls on the sidewalk.” Neku winced. “Er, sorry, Orange. Didn’t mean to dredge up anything bad on your end. Just odd, seeing you back.”

“Looking for someone,” Neku admitted. “The owner of the café that used to be on Cat Street.”

“Hanekoma? Stopped in there for coffee sometimes. Bit odd. His shop didn’t have the Player decal, yet he definitely served stiffs. Reapers as customers is one thing—we can go to the RG—but… hell. What do I know?”

Neku flocked his eyes up and down the street. Not that it mattered; Reapers could be in the UG right next to him and he wouldn’t know. “Yeah, he could see the dead.”

“ESPer or something?” Seven asked, blowing out a smoke ring that looked like a bat. Now he was just showing off.

“Something like that.”

“Well, fat lot that did him. Shop’s been MIA ever since I got recommissioned—maybe earlier. All I remember is, I had a double shot espresso there the night before that gig you helped me with, got blown up like two weeks later, and when I’m back to my good old dead self, the shop looks like it got exploded too. What the hell went on in this city that week?”

“War,” Neku said grimly.

“And you won, didn’t you?” Seven elbowed him in the shoulder. “You’d be one of my types now if you hadn’t.”

“Yeah, I did,” Neku said, throat dry. “Thanks for the chat.”

“You come to our next gig, you hear? You’ve gotta be old enough to drink now. VIP for you ‘n the cute chick you were with. Or, uh, anyone else. Don’t know if asking her would be awkward. She made it out, didn’t she? Please say yes.”

Neku smiled. “She did, and we’re still friends. I’ll ask. She won’t look like how you’re expecting though.”

“Neither do you, not-so-short stack. Now get outta here. I’m gonna finish my drag and get back to setup before Beej screams me out. Later.” Seven snapped his fingers and the cigarette exploded in a puff of blue fiery smoke. “Open invite, Orange, just tell the bouncer ‘golden bat’ at the door.”

Xxx

Neku inhaled. He knew past here was Cadoi, then Miyashita.

Then Cat Street.

Neku passed a small spot under the park underpass where Beat and Rhyme’s flowers had once been placed, leaving behind a tiny finger skateboard. Beat would probably punch him; Rhyme would find it hilarious. He did it to honor his once dead friend. Some kid would probably see it, and abscond with it, and play with it till it broke. Beat’s skateboard, in the hands of some kid passing by—it was fitting.

Neku let his memory walk him the rest of the way to WildKat. It stood as it had since the incident: a broken front window, a door barely hanging on its hinges. How it remained like this almost half a decade without developer intervention was shocking, honestly. Or maybe not, if divine intervention was involved.

Neku inhaled and took a step forward.

Again.

He carefully swung the door, afraid the whole thing would come off the frame in his hands. It squeaked something awful but hung by a thread.

The inside was worse. Neku should have brought one of his paint masks with him. The place was a fire trap of chipped plaster, dust, and mold. An old safe in the back corner was open on its hinges. The only things that looked clean were the sink, two sealed jars of whole coffee beans, and a single drip carafe, the rest of the row shattered beyond recognition.

Neku’s sketchbook and a mechanical pencil set still sat atop the dust-crusted counter. He’d left them there when he and Beat had returned— the only time Neku stepped foot in the shop when he was alive—to check on the shop.

To check on its owner.

Leaving the sketchbook behind seemed fitting. It was half full of random crap, and half empty, nothing but open promises in the end.

Maybe Neku didn’t need Hanekoma, or CAT, or the old shop. Carefully, he made his way around a splintered bar stool, sidestepped a broken glass pitcher, and hauled himself up on the only stool left in sittable condition.

Reverently, he opened the book. He almost laughed at his fifteen-year-old self’s sketches. The first three pages were ideas for tags around the city. He actually cringed at one.

Then a page of Shiki—a quick sketch, half likely from stolen glances and half from memory, because it was her as herself on the left, and as Eri on the right.

Ideas for Beat’s skateboards.

Architecture sketches

An entire six pages of circles and cubes, shaded with hatching or a blending stump.

Neku turned to the next page.

In handwriting that wasn’t his, scrawled in large block print…

TURN AROUND, DEAR.

Xxx

Neku screamed. It wasn’t one of fear, but frustration. “You slimy, little—” he shrieked, as he spun around in the stool expecting to see a smarmy, fifteen-year-old-looking blonde, if the agelessness of the other UG residents was anything to go by.

Instead, a softly frowning man in his mid-thirties stood behind him.

With blonde fly-away hair.

And strange purple eyes.

And a blue-purple button down with white accents and charcoal slacks.

Neku bit his lower lip, holding back a fury he hadn’t had in years.

“You.”

“I come in peace,” Joshua offered, hands up defensively, glowing slightly. “I wrote that years ago. Now I kind of regret it.” Neku relaxed a little. Joshua would be dramatic enough to do that and scare him when he entered the shop, wouldn’t he?

“Only kind of, though,” Joshua added, pulling a broken chair from the rubble, fixing it with a shake and sitting down beside Neku. “It’s still Imprinted. I’m not in the RG. The note left a bit of me in it. You see it, you see me, too.”

“You been tailing me all day, too?”

“I felt you in the city, but no. Only when I got a text about it.”

Kariya. Of course.

“Your conductor rat me out?”

“He did say you were looking for me. So, might have imprinted on you a bit to push you here.”

“You could have come and—”

“—said hello? No, actually, I can’t. I’m on probation. Can’t enter the RG for a decade. Not the biggest deal for me, mind, but… humans don’t live near as long as things like I do. I needed you to come to me. Glad that thing still works.” He tapped the notebook, his hand clipping through a page or two like he wasn’t all there.

Neku exhaled. “I trust you, you know. Still don’t forgive you, but I do trust you.”

“I know. I appreciate you said it aloud, but I know.”

“You look better when your clothes actually fit.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve gotten better at keeping up with me,” Joshua said with a bit of a grin.

“You’ve slowed down in your age, you old fart.”

“Old? Fart?” Joshua pouted, and where there had been a well-put-together adult sat a petulant teenager in the same attire, now oversized to the point of baggy. He looked as the Reapers did—unaged.

“At least now you fit in with the rest of your underlings,” Neku huffed.

Joshua frowned. “I wish I did, honestly.” Quietly, he stared off, past Neku to the empty kitchen.

“Miss him too?”

“More than you,” Joshua shot back.

“Didn’t have many friends?”

“Comes with the job.”

Neku rolled a pencil between his fingers. He’d caught the proverbial tail and didn’t know what to do with it. Joshua was here and clearly knew just as much as Neku did about his former idol’s whereabouts. They sat in silence as Joshua’s likely million-yen watch ticked away.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Neku replied flatly.

“You’re no fun, Neku,” Joshua needled. “Fine. Look, Sanae liked you, more than just the fact that you were my Proxy. Hell, I’m surprised he helped you at all, knowing what you represented in my Game. You were the bad guy.”

Joshua slunk in the only-until-recently broken bar seat, kicking at a shattered tile with an awfully expensive sneaker. When he couldn’t quite reach, his form shifted back to that of an adult, flinging the chipped tile aside like a petulant child. “Neku, I need you.”

“Like you needed me to destroy Shibuya.”

Joshua exhaled, wisps of golden hair fluttering as he stared at anything but Neku. “I’ve been trying to find Hanekoma for years. Every moment I’m not here keeping the city together, I’m traveling to find him. You wouldn’t understand, but I need you to get a lock on him.”

“You’re dimension hopping.”

Joshua sat straight up, his too-long legs hitting the café bar as he did so. “Fuck,” he hissed, rubbing at his knee. “Too tall for my own good. But how? How could you even know that?”

Neku pointed to the safe at the back corner of the café, still just as ajar as he left it when he found the key pin with Beat back in the game. “Mr. H. left me a book of notes: on the game, on angels, all of it.” Neku scrolled through his phone. “I used to keep it on me, thinking it would help me somehow, someday. Eventually, I just scanned it all.”

“Gimme,” Joshua demanded, and the phone was in his hands. Neku watched in awe at the Composer’s speed reading. “I know he kept notes for the Angels, but this wasn’t for them—it was for you. Where’s the real deal?”

“My apartment.”

“Address. Specific location. I’m talking ‘fourth floor, third bedroom, under the red futon next to my stack of- ‘”

Neku cut him off quickly, rattling off his exact address and where he hid the book. Joshua held out a free hand, and in a moment, it materialized with the softest of thunks, pages fluttering in Joshua’s fingertips. “Be glad I’m on good terms with the Composer of Taito Ward,” Joshua admonished, pointing with the small hand-bound journal. “Otherwise I would have sent you home to go get it yourself.”

“What, are you going to track down Hanekoma with this?”

“No, of course not,” Joshua snorted, standing upright, shaking himself once to completely dissipate any plaster shavings or broken chips from his clothing.

“You are.”

Xxx

Neku watched in awe as Joshua’s back bloomed with light, a pair of massive swan-like silver-white wings settling on his back, iridescent with hints of lavender as he shook them loose. Before Neku could think, Hanekoma’s journal was thrust into his hands, and Joshua had him in a position he’d later call The Little Spoon of Death. With a jerk backwards, the two fell through and landed precisely where they’d been before, except the shop was in clean, working order, jazz playing on the radio, and a familiar voice humming tunelessly along with the guitar.

“Heya, Josh. Back so soon?”

Neku blinked and almost cried when he saw the man behind the counter. “H-Hanekoma?!? Mr. H?”

“One of,” Hanekoma said with a shrug. “Not the one you’re looking for though.”

Neku tried to surge forward to give the man (angel?) a hug but was held firmly in place by Joshua’s murderous grip around his waist. “Let go,” Neku whined through gritted teeth.

“Not a good idea, Boss,” Hanekoma chided. “You don’t want to get stuck in the wrong place.”

Neku let himself slacken. “I can get stuck?”

“Sure as the rain ruining my day,” Hanekoma agreed. “When you’re in the right place, you’ll know.”

“Can you help?”

“Can I? Sure. Will I? No. He’s a hellion. You’re never going to find him anyway.”

“Isn’t he another you?”

“You wouldn’t say the same thing if you met you from this world,” Joshua said, exasperated. “I wonder why the book sent us here.”

“This is where you hid after Minamimoto tried to erase you, isn’t it?” Neku asked. He flipped through the journal. “He hid somewhere high to wait for you. Because he thought this Hanekoma would turn him into the Angel Police or something.”

“I did,” Hanekoma said proudly. “Can’t have me ruining my good name.”

“Fuck off,” Neku spat at the barista. “You’re not Hanekoma.”

“I’m the part of Hanekoma that actually follows our rules.”

Joshua squeezed Neku tighter. “Hold on and keep thinking of that.”

“What—whyyyyyyyyyy?!” Neku screamed as sound escaped him. The whole universe lurched underneath as Joshua resumed pinging around between alternate realities, barely stopping to breathe.

“Focus!” Joshua ordered him through the din of dizzying WildKat cafes, Shibuya skylines, and for a brief moment, possibly the cold depths of space.

“THERE IS NOTHING TO FOCUS ON YOU DAFT ZOMBIE!” Neku shouted back, feeling his insides out and outsides in before the two bounced off a massive plate of glass and went rolling out to nowhere. Joshua pulled his wings around them, breaking the fall as they bounced a few times to the sounds of shattering glass.

They stilled. Neku could hear his own breathing and feel his heart jumping in his chest. Disquietingly, Joshua had neither breath nor a heartbeat, his torso flat against Neku’s back without any noticeable sign of life. Neku quietly filed that part under “disgusting, do not remind” and wiggled a little to loosen Joshua’s grip on his midsection.

“Hang on,” Joshua hissed out. “Easy does it.”

“That was easy?”

“You should see hard,” Joshua said, smirking as he raised an eyebrow. “And it might surprise you but… I think we’re here.”

Joshua rocked on the shoulders of his wings, pushing them both upright and parting a crack for them to see from.

The world consisted of a single, stained-glass building in a shattered-glass sky. The ground crunched with hardened paint beneath them.

“Somewhere high, following the rules… and nothing to focus on. Neku, sometimes, only sometimes, am I reminded of your genius.”

“I am in elbow-to-face range,” Neku reminded him.

“Yes, dear, and you’d best stay that way unless you want to swallow glass,” Joshua pointed out. “I’m too concerned about flying through that with a passenger, let alone someone alive, so we’re going to walk in tandem to the entrance and pray there’s no tricks along the way.”

Neku wanted to argue he wasn’t much for prayer but being cocooned in angel wings wasn’t doing him any favors in that department.

“Well at least I’m getting the inspiration I was looking for,” Neku muttered as he marveled through the tiniest of openings in between Joshua’s feathers. They both shuddered as pellets of colored glass dogged them like rain, Neku grimacing with each step.

“I think that is this world’s rain,” Joshua said aloud. “What? You’re thinking too loud. Either shut up or I’ll nitpick your thoughts. Last you want to do is swallow glass talking out loud, anyway.”

They walked in silence for what felt like eternity, roughly matching steps so their wing-cocoon tank didn’t topple. Peppered by the shards of rain, Neku was slowly getting a better view of the world outside his feathered umbrella.

The tower reminded him of Pork City, though it stretched upwards through molten clouds that burned red hot like liquid glass being worked at a forge. The whole thing was stained glass of infinite color—giant, angular panes crossed and reinforced by black, wrought iron-like supports, with sharp points sticking out at odd angles from the structure.

“I think so too,” Joshua agreed with Neku’s wandering thoughts. “That’s Pork City, all right—made from Reaper wings. It looks like a gorgeous prison. A prison all the same, though,” he added, sighing.

Soon enough, the entrance loomed overhead, its maw of black webbing haphazardly stuffed with angular pastel glass. The tinkle of the rain bounced off the overhang as Joshua ever-so-slowly folded his wings behind him.

“I think you’re safe, for now,” he said, with the authoritativeness betraying his true age. “I promise, I’m not going to let you die here—you’re still holding Sanae’s book.”

“Because that’s all you care about,” Neku grumbled, to Joshua’s pout. “Oh, come off. I’m going to make up for all the teasing you did to me. Now let’s hope there’s an elevator in there or you’ll be flying us up the stairs.”

Xxx

“Lights are on; nobody’s home,” Joshua said, looking around as the two shuffled inside. “Okay, I’m letting go.”

“You’re what!” Neku shrieked, breathing heavy as Joshua smirked, unhooking his hands from around Neku’s waist. “Didn’t that other Hanekoma say it was a bad idea?”

“Oh, it’s a cataclysmically terrible idea. You’ll be trapped here forever now.”

“Joshua–I—you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

“I mean, of course. I’m an ass, but nobody’s that heartless.”

“You murdered me. Twice.”

“I also brought you back to life, so no complaints,” Joshua snipped back. “Now, what have we here?”

Neku sighed, reminded of exactly how aggravating the little god could be. He looked around the entry foyer. The walls inside the building were a blinding white, almost piercing in their contrast to the stained glass on the outer walls of the monstrous tower. “I think this thing is alive,” Neku muttered.

“It’s not,” Joshua said, almost too quickly. “Or, rather, it’s as alive as Sanae or I am.”

“So it’s, what, an angel?”

Joshua kneeled down to touch the floor, a soft white abalone with a pearlescent sheen. “Yes. And we just entered the mouth.” Neku shuddered. “Oh, it’s not really that big a deal, Neku,” Joshua said, standing up and tsk-ing him with a finger. “This building is no more going to digest you than a wooden one; though I’m sure you’ve seen trees grow around and consume cars and houses.”

“Not helping,” Neku grumbled. “Hey, I’m not sure if it’s the retina damage, but are the walls bleeding paint?”

Joshua tucked his massive wings up high on his back, where they still trailed behind him like a couture dress, and shimmy-hopped over to the interior wall. “Oh, it’s probably retina damage,” he said cheerily, “you’re looking at pure light after all. But you’re not wrong.” Joshua swiped his hand along the wall, coming off it with a smear of mustard yellow acrylic paint. He blew on it, drying it immediately, and peeled it off like a face mask. “Must be the elevator hidden in the wall and… here we go.”

With a squelching sound like wrenching a tooth out of its socket—Neku wondering with a shudder that if that actually was a tooth—Joshua dislodged the panel, revealing a plush, red-velvet-lined elevator speckled with flecks of paint.

“If that’s a tongue, I’m out of here,” Neku complained.

“It’s not a tongue,” Josh said with a suspicious grin, stuffing himself inside with his wings still exposed. Neku shuffled and squeezed in, a massive feather poking him in the backside. The doors closed. “It’s the esophagus, Neku.”

Xxx

“Can’t you put those away?” Neku asked, after what felt like an eternity of being smothered by a giant chicken.

Joshua sighed, looking more serious than Neku was ever used to. “Yes, but I won’t.”

Neku expected him to elaborate, but Joshua merely went silent, hands out and open and feathers fluffed up.

Quickly, Neku understood why. It started quietly, a ping and a plop and a hiss, and became louder and more intense with each passing second. A few moments later, Neku was positive he wasn’t hearing things; it sounded like rain pouring from a gutter except… the rain was a stream of fire-engine red and the gutter was the walls of the elevator. The liquid pooled in the velvet flooring like blood matting the fur on a wounded, furry animal.

“Neku, move in before I make you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice as Joshua threw his wings up around them again, reaching a hand out of the fluffy shield to pull the emergency stop on the elevator panel. Neku didn’t even realize how fast they’d been ascending until they screeched to a halt.

“The walls are bleeding.”

“Paint,” Joshua replied. “It’s just paint.”

“You also said the building was an angel,” Neku reminded him testily. “What’s to say that this isn’t—”

“Angel blood melts like acid,” Joshua replied flatly. Neku didn’t know if he were telling the truth or not, but the soles of his shoes, now caked in it, weren’t dissolving.

Joshua pulled him close, wrapping his left arm around his shoulders and left wing over that like a shield. Neku couldn’t see anything but white, but he felt a jolt of exertion and heard Joshua swear low.

“Neku, dear, stay close and don’t scream.”

In the time it took him to blink, the Joshua that Neku was familiar with vanished. Every pore of the elevator was leaking paint in gushes now; thankfully blues and greens and hot pinks, to put Neku slightly more at ease, balanced evenly with the remainder of the free space taken up by living, swirling paint.

Noise.

One giant one.

It was silent and snake-like, and it dug its claws into the elevator door, wrenching it open without a sound save the rushing air.

The elevator had stopped between two floors, and the Noise slipped out the bottom to slide down to the floor below.

Move, it demanded of him. Drowning in paint doesn’t belong in your obituary.

Neku more or less knew the beast had been Joshua, but the voice in his head finally cemented it.

“I’ll break my legs.”

“I’ll catch you.”

Neku didn’t even register the response said aloud, slipping down the paint-soaked velvet and landing in a nest of color-streaked feathers.

“See?”

“I’m drenched,” Neku grumped, and then realized he wasn’t. His and Joshua’s clothes were pristine again, though the wild streaks of paint still covered Neku’s arms and Joshua’s feathers.

“Not getting rid of it all. I don’t know if the building is trying to attack us and I’d rather we still smell like it.”

“You think?” Neku asked sarcastically. He looked around the room. Paint had pooled in oil-slick puddles on the floor and was leaking out cracks in the walls. Neku heard dripping from overhead, looking up to see globs of color slowly plopping from the ceiling. The acrylic paint’s own drying-to-plastic properties were likely the only thing preventing a flood of multicolored rain on them.

Carefully, Neku hot-footed around the deepest puddles and made his way to the stained glass on the perimeter.

“We are really high up,” he breathed out, looking at the world below.

Joshua fluttered, and landed gracefully next to him. “We are. Care not to break the glass.”

“I’m not that—”

“—without me,” Joshua continued, barreling for the window, grabbing Neku as he shattered an entire pane.

For a moment, time stood still, not that it mattered much in this place to begin with. The triangular pastel shards exploded out with them on the side of the building and Neku swore he heard it scream. The shards from the broken window floated around them, glittering against the glass rain pelting them from above. Joshua pulled Neku in tighter, wings curled.

“Duck.” That was Neku’s only warning as Joshua opened his wings to propel them up against the pellets of crystalline rain before hurling himself sideways, crashing into another exterior wall.

“Human bodies are too frail,” Joshua tsk’ed at him once they finished rolling in a 20 centimeters deep pool of paint. With a hand wave, Neku found himself as clean as he could be, and free of scratches.

Paint sluiced down from their entry hole, likely streaking the outside of the building as the room began to drain. Neku shook the stars from his eyes as Joshua flicked his fingers across his button-down shirt, sending the liquid colors away as he did so.

His wings were still streaked with neon.

The room had no stairs, no elevator shaft, from what Neku could see. It was just glass around the outside and a concrete floor and ceiling. Scattered about the room were pillars and flat concrete pieces, some wall-to-ceiling, but most about half height—like an art gallery.

The entire room, save the glass, was completely covered in art.

Graffiti.

Classical.

Renaissance.

Ukiyo-e

Cubist.

It was one step short of being an eyesore. And as the paint drained out, pouring down the exterior side of the building, Neku could see the floor, too, covered with incredible works of art. He felt almost embarrassed when he moved his foot, leaving behind a hot-pink footprint on impressionist lilies.

“They’re just copies,” Joshua said sternly, looking around. “Technically precise, but nothing original except in how it’s all mashed together.”

Neku nodded. “I just stepped in Monet.”

“Well, a good copy. Poor Sanae. Stay on your guard, Neku; he’s up here somewhere. And he’s probably not going to look like what you’re used to.”

“Like how you were a dragon?” Neku asked.

“His street art handle isn’t CAT for nothing.”

“I’m assuming it’s not a housecat, then,” Neku hissed back, suddenly concerned. Both of them winced on hearing a howl.

Quiet, Joshua ordered inside his head. And stay behind me.

Neku nodded and the two wove their way through the gallery, following the sound of growls and irritated hisses. Joshua slowly peeled around a corner, motioning for Neku to follow.

A great graffiti-winged panther that Neku could only assume was Mr. Hanekoma glared back through acid-paint eyes.

Xxx

Joshua shoved Neku roughly aside, striding confidently to the massive graffiti beast.

“Hello, old friend,” Joshua said, tired and aged himself.

The creature screamed. The concrete half-wall Neku had been cowering behind exploded into fragments of color and shrapnel.

The beast froze, sniffed. It took one step, then another, leaning its gargantuan head over the broken divider to look down at Neku.

Neku had never been terrified before. Even in the Game, he’d had periods when he was scared, adrenaline coursing through him like the drug it was. But this abject fear to witness a man he trusted—who he might even consider a friend—be reduced to a mindless abomination drooling tempera paint overhead was sobering.

The beast opened its maw wide. Joshua jumped to his side in a flash, throwing up a wing to protect him.

Hanekoma tilted his head a little, reminiscent of a puppy. “Ne….ku?”

Xxx

Neku and Joshua watched over the next…however long it took. Hanekoma paced, occasionally knocking over a bucket of paint or, in one case, slamming into one of the concrete half-wall dividers with his flank as his graffiti form jittered and convulsed.

He’s coming back around, Joshua hissed in Neku’s head. At this point, we just need to wait.

Neku nodded. Joshua still held a wing up and an iron grip on the other’s arm and waist, but it was with good reason. Hanekoma screamed again, rupturing the concrete and Neku’s eardrums. For a few moments, Neku saw nothing but static, before the searing pain faded.

“—Sanae, Sanae, come back to us,” Joshua pleaded in croaking whispers as Neku’s hearing returned. “Please. Your attacks are only hurting him, see? I just had to completely repair his eardrums.”

The cat-beast howled again, knocking Neku utterly unconscious this time.

Xxx

Neku came to on the floor of the gallery, slowly taking stock of the room around him through hazy peripheral vision. Most of the dividers were at least punched through, if not entirely destroyed. A cold hand covered most of his forward vision, however.

“Neku, can you hear me?” Hanekoma’s gruff voice was twanged with concern.

“He should; I fixed his eardrums twice in one eternity,” Joshua grumped.

“Mister….H?” Neku croaked.

“J, make him some water.”

Slowly, a sturdy arm pulled Neku to sitting, leaning his body back into something warm, but lacking breath and a pulse. It was too broad to be Joshua, confirmed when the other hand slipped away to take an offered bowl of water.

Hanekoma was in human form again. Human-ish, at least.

“Drink, kiddo.”

“I’m twenty,” Neku protested before coughing up a little blood, realizing that was the first full sentence out of his mouth to the former barista.

“Hey, all humans are kids to me,” Hanekoma laughed. “J, he needs his throat patched up too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joshua whined, leaning forward to place three fingers against Neku’s neck. Immediately, Neku felt a wave of calm wash over, and his throat felt clear. “Now drink, before I whip you up an IV. I can patch you up, but I’m not magically refilling you with lost fluids. I don’t have the brainspace right now for that.”

Neku slowly downed the water, leaning heavily into Hanekoma. “I don’t have the brainspace to brain for at least a week.”

“I don’t think any of us do,” Hanekoma added. “I’m not even sure how I’m back to any kind of sanity as it is.”

Joshua rolled his eyes and refilled the water bowl with a gesture. “Enough of you was sane enough to be worried.”

“You brought a living human as bait, J! Of course I was worried.”

“It worked.”

“That doesn’t make it—” Hanekoma hissed, squeezing Neku’s shoulders a little too hard.

“I missed you,” Neku cut in. “It looked like all of Shibuya did, even though they never knew who you were.”

“Of course they knew,” Hanekoma said gently. “I was the local barista, ready with a good cup ‘o joe. I was the artist that painted the town red.”

“All the Reapers I spoke to had nothing but praise for you,” Neku continued. “I ran all over the city today finding that out.”

Neku felt the single loud thump of a heartbeat from the ethereal body keeping him upright. “Really now?”

“None of them knew you had a connection to the game either,” Neku continued, getting a second wind. “They just praised CAT’s art and WildKat’s coffee.”

“Hmph.”

“Won’t you come back, Sanae?” Joshua asked, a pleading smile on his lips. “It’s been too long.”

“I wish I could, J.”

“What do you mean you wish? You’re an Angel, for Someone’s sake!”

“Er, about that,” Hanekoma said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m… well. I’m not not an angel, I guess. But this is my punishment.”

“You’re definitely under supervision,” Joshua said testily. “Your warden was more annoying than anything else.”

“I take offense to that,” Hanekoma’s voice reverberated through all three of them.

Joshua nearly growled. “You know, you could have skipped the theatrics. If you wanted us gone, you could have Erased us, or just booted us out.”

Neku blinked the last of the daze away. “Hold on. I’m missing something here.”

“Remember how we passed a million billion WildKats and Sanaes and Shibuyas trying to find this place?” Joshua grumbled. “And how Sanae knew what we were doing? Angels have a singular hive mind. Mostly. I’m not actually an Angel, mind you—sort of just a hatchling, an infant. But he’s a real-deal Higher Plane beastie.”

Neku frowned, putting up a finger, lost in thought. Hanekoma went to speak, only for Joshua to shush him.

“Neku’s smart enough to put the pieces together. Give him a moment.”

“I gave him at least a concussion, if not brain damage, J.”

“Which I fixed.”

“The building.” Neku’s face sharpened into a frown.

Joshua and Hanekoma turned their heads to Neku, now sitting upright unassisted as he bopped his finger to his own internal music, slotting what he knew in place. “You said the building was an angel. This building, this whole thing, is this dimension’s Mr. H. All of the other yous are mad at you, aren’t they?”

Hanekoma nodded, exhaling a sigh. “I’m… sort of still an angel. But they cut me off from the Hive and took my inspiration. I can’t leave until I have them back.”

“I’m going to have a word with Management.” Joshua hoisted himself off the shrapnel-pocked floor, stomping a foot. “Elevator, if you please.”

“J, you’re crazy.”

“Aware. So?”

The three heard a ding as a concrete cube rose from the floor, the elevator with it. It opened with a smooth motion, the door already fixed but the interior still caked in paint.

“Am I the hostage negotiator, or can all of us go?” Joshua asked the elevator, irritated, arms crossed and wing-feathers fluffed in annoyance. In response, the elevator ballooned sideways, expanding the interior to accommodate three adults and one massive pair of wings.

“All right,” Joshua sighed out. “Everybody in.”

Xxx

The elevator hummed pleasantly and dinged, opening back up to the pearly-white entryway. The large front doors—triangular shards of crisscrossing stained glass—were blocked off by an aggressive black chain and padlock. A gleaming solid front desk sat at the entryway with a bored Hanekoma flipping lazily through a completely blank magazine. He shot them a grin; Neku noticed he was missing a tooth.

“Ah, hello. Thanks for giving me one heck of a sore throat, J.”

“Can it. I’m busting him out,” Joshua snapped, straight to the point.

Hanekoma put down the magazine, all high-gloss and solid-white pages. “Oh? How?”

Joshua pointed at the door, the chain and lock melting like acid under his gaze. “The front door, how else? Unless you want a few more teeth popped out.”

“That isn’t what I meant, J,” Hanekoma-behind-the-counter said simply. “Your me isn’t an angel right now. You take him out of here and he’s a mortal. I give him a few decades, tops. Stay and he’ll pay his price eventually; won’t you, you sorry excuse for a me?”

Joshua’s Sanae wrung his hands. “I’ll head back up. I did say you didn’t need to come for me, J.”

“If you leave before your sentence is up… you’re mortal?” Joshua asked, his voice cracking a little.

“Yeah, sorry Boss. I’ll take the long way ‘round.”

Neku frowned, scratching at some dried paint on his cheek. “Hang on. What is his sentence exactly? Josh, you said yours was being banned from the RG, but nothing stopped you from letting me see the UG.”

Joshua broke out into a nasty grin. “Ohhhhhhhh Neku, dear. I need to have you get brain damage more often.”

“No,” Neku interjected flatly.

“Aw, it was only a temporary inconvenience. Anyway, Sanae—either of you—what is his exact punishment from the Higher Plane? I want the full contract.”

The glass world’s Sanae slid him the blank magazine. “They were pretty thorough.”

Xxx

When Neku turned his back on the front desk, a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table, all in different shades of blinding alabaster, existed under the overhang just to the side of the entryway. The tinkle of stained-glass-shard rain peppered the overhang roof and a rainbow of garish light streaked in between the storm clouds outside. Joshua lifted his wings, draped them over the back of the sofa, and got to reading.

The only sounds were the tinkling of the rain, Joshua’s ever-ticking watch, and the occasional turn of a page.

Neku tapped his fingers on his jeans. “Can I do anything?”

“No,” muttered Joshua, half in thought flipping through the plain pages.

“Haven’t you done enough?” asked the bored warden, slouching at his desk.

“I could… clean the elevator,” Neku offered, trying to figure out something to do. He was definitely caught in some sort of celestial war, played out in miniature. Everything was over his head right now as he looked sideways to the glass-world Hanekoma. He looked the same as all the others—rolled-up button down, slacks, waistcoat, watch, sandals, sunglasses, messy hair—though he did seem a bit more… shiny, like light was reflecting off of him. Neku didn’t want to consider what it meant for him to both be standing at the front counter as well as being the entire building.

“You’d do that?” the glass angel questioned, confused.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m just standing here. And it’s partially my fault that happened. More so if it’s hurting you.”

“Angels aren’t people, Neku,” he replied, handing him a bucket of soapy water from nowhere. “We don’t feel pain.”

“You’re clearly in pain,” Neku shot back in a whisper after Joshua rustled the magazine loudly, clearing his throat in a way reminding Neku to not disturb him. “Let me help.”

“Help, huh?” The glass Hanekoma smiled, the missing tooth returning to its space after a moment of static. “That’s a new thought.”

“Nobody’s ever helped you before?” Neku asked, concerned, as the elevator dinged and opened. He walked to it, both Sanaes following. One handed the other another bucket, then made one for himself. The three went inside and Neku took to the floor, carefully washing down the carpeting. The door slid closed and the three worked in silence.

“Not me, no,” the glass one admitted. “Not most of us. Angels don’t interact with your kind, or they really aren’t supposed to. I think some of us are jealous of the us from your world.” Another beat of silence. “I know I am.”

“Then why don’t you leave?” Neku asked.

“The other mes would make me a traitor, same as that one.” He jabbed his thumb at his duplicate. “In all honesty, I think it’s better than wasting away with only our own thoughts for company. All of us know it too—only that one said the quiet part out loud. There’s a small and finite number of angels, but an infinite number of each of us. One broken hive is a massive blow to the higher plane—kind of contradictory when you realize we run on Imagination. Think about it for five seconds and—”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Neku cut in, satisfied with the state of the floor, moving on to an aggressive teal spot on the wall. “If you run on Imagination but you’re made up as a ton of fragments that all have to think alike, any dissent and your own self turns on you. Seems a bit counterintuitive to have it that way.”

“The only possible outcome is to break apart from within,” Hanekoma agreed, but Neku wasn’t sure which one of them said it. Inside the elevator, the glass one didn’t have the odd shine he’d had in the foyer. At this point, he wasn’t sure it mattered.

Xxx

Neku and both Hanekoma exited the elevator, Joshua still pouring over the magazine. “They really did try and close every possible loophole,” he muttered. “I can’t see a way out… shy of killing you,” he added, looking up at the two angels. “And now I can’t even tell you apart.”

One of them smiled. “Neku just opened one up for you.”

“Oh?”

“Clause 16b.2.”

“Yes, ‘should the warden be unfit for service, Hanekoma is to serve the remainder of the sentence under a new warden.’ I was going to kill you and claim myself warden.”

“There’s no way the Higher Power would allow that. He’d just be transferred,” the other one said. Joshua raised an eyebrow to the first one—his Hanekoma. He slid his eyes between the two of them and the glass one scratched the back of his neck.

“Sit. I’ll get us something to drink.”

Neku shrugged and practically threw himself into one of the chairs, sighing as he sank into it. It was soft and warm and the light pinging of the rain overhead was lulling him to sleep.

“Stay awake,” Hanekoma ordered, pinching his elbow. “You started going see-through when you passed out last time—it’s what jolted me to consciousness. You aren’t coming all this way just for me to see you fade to nothing, Neku.”

Neku jolted upright, just as a steaming cup of coffee was placed in his hands. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” the glass Hanekoma said, determined. A third settee appeared between the other two; their captor-slash-host sat in it, placing a tray of coffee, tea, and snacks on the table between them. “And anyway, I’m unfit to be Hanekoma’s warden now. The Higher Plane may come for me soon. Though, soon here could be eons off. I know my time doesn’t run at the same pace as most of the other dimensions; that’s why I was picked to watch him. Joshua, they would never accept you under probation, but… Neku—you seem to be a favorite of upper management. Transferring to you shouldn’t be a problem. Hand him the contract, J.”

Neku blinked a bit of the daze from his eyes, downing the beverage. It felt like more than mere coffee, a solid glass of liquid courage, emboldening him.

Joshua hesitated, but passed the blank, glossy magazine sideways to Neku. He then stared down at the tray of offered snacks and carefully picked out a chessboard cookie, frowning at it, before biting the head off the knight’s horse.

Words swirled on the paper in Neku’s peripheral vision before he could see them straight off. “Can I get a translation?” he asked meekly, looking at the mess of block print before him.

“Did I not write it in Japanese?” Glass-Hanekoma asked.

“That’s not what I meant,” Neku sulked. “I can’t read lawyer.”

Joshua craned his neck sideways. “It’s a transferal of ownership contract. Standard language, except… hm. Neku, would you want to be an angel?”

Neku scrunched up his face. “Seeing what you deal with? No. I have enough trouble with artist’s block as it is. I’d rather it not be fatal.”

“Take out paragraphs eight and twenty, then.”

“Wait, this would have…”

“Made you one of us, yeah,” Joshua cut Neku off. “It does mean that if Hanekoma didn’t finish his sentence before you died, he would be mortal; so some sort of transferal clause needs to be added.”

Hanekoma snatched up the magazine, flicking it. “Consider it done. Sign and get out of here before I’m taken away too.” He grinned slyly. “Maybe I can keep the domino chain going. Wouldn’t the upper management just love that?”

Neku flicked his eyes to Joshua. “I still trust you, Josh. How’s it look?”

“We can take him with us. You’re his warden ‘til you die or his sentence is done, then you can renegotiate angelhood if you want.”

“But… what is his sentence?” Neku asked, looking between the now indistinguishable Hanekoma.

“I have to re-earn my Imagination: the human way.”

“No magic?”

“Some magic. About as much as Josh has. Which is a lot compared to you. Very little compared to before. And none at all when I’m not near my warden… though I’m not sure how near near is.”

“Don’t worry about that,” the second Hanekoma said, squeezing the first’s shoulder. “I’ve given you a little extra juice on your way. I’m sure they’ll take mine from me anyway. It’s enough to manifest your wings again, at least. Now get out of here, before there’s bigger problems. All of us is already tattling.”

“Bunch of assholes,” Hanekoma hissed under his breath.

“We both were, too. Well, me at least. Think you were always the black sheep. Now, sign and get.”

Joshua plucked a pen from nowhere, handing it to Neku who turned to the angelic twins. “You trust me?”

“With your life,” both Hanekoma said with a nod.

Neku signed with a flick of his wrist, the pull of slumber taking him again. He could barely hear Hanekoma and Joshua shout something as they hauled him upright at the torso.

With a jerk that felt like someone had tied a rope around his waist and then yanked on it from behind, Neku blinked his eyes open to Hanekoma’s shop, as destroyed as it was when they’d left it. He gasped for breath, completely winded and woozy, the world spinning around him until he succumbed, sliding out of Hanekoma and Joshua’s shared grip to bounce on the cracked tile floor.

Xxx

Hanekoma frowned, flapping feathered wings he forgot he’d missed. “J, you know you can’t throw yourself around the mortals—not like that. Not even to someone like him.” Carefully, Hanekoma pulled Neku out of the rubble, flinging his body over a shoulder. “Be glad he’s just passed out. If he stayed a moment longer in that dimension, he would have been gone. You could have killed him or worse.”

“But I didn’t,” Joshua insisted. “I needed him.”

“Did he know the risks?” Hanekoma asked roughly, finally free to yell at his former boss-and-ward without Neku overhearing. “He didn’t. You never told him.”

“You said in your notes that I’d be a strain on him. He had to know what that meant.”

“There’s a difference in knowing what your toned-down presence would do over a week versus what the full force of your power would do to him in a few hours,” Hanekoma chided. “He may have known the former, but you certainly didn’t tell him the latter.”

“What’s your point?” Joshua asked, watching Hanekoma shift Neku’s unconscious form into a more comfortable carry.

“My point is, stop breaking things, J. Stop treating everything like a broken bone that’s healing the wrong way. Not everything has to be shattered even more to fix it.”

“You were imprisoned by the Angels! All for trying to protect this city!” Joshua protested.

“I would have finished my sentence eventually,” Sanae countered in a calm and even tone. “I may have been in that place for eons, but it was—what? Three years here, maybe?”

“Five,” Joshua whimpered with a pout.

Hanekoma’s eyes flicked up and down Joshua, seemingly searching for something. “I’m putting Neku down in a room and warding it. He needs to recoup.”

Hanekoma turned on his heel to the shop backrooms, leaving Joshua standing confused in the mound of rubble.

Xxx

Whatever Hanekoma was doing, he was taking his sweet time. But Joshua heeded the barista’s words and waited, rolling his shoulders and slowly ratcheting his own wings back into the ether. Bored, he made himself a broom from Imagination and began idly sweeping up the chipped plaster and shattered tile. Eventually, Hanekoma returned to the shop portion of the building, eyeing Joshua.

“Physical labor? That’s a first.”

“I… I feel,” Joshua said, stopping to roll the broom handle in his fingertips. “I feel responsible.”

Hanekoma lowered his shades, peering over them. “Responsible. Who are you and what have you done with J?”

“I grew up, Sanae. Someone had to. You weren’t here. I have a new Conductor and Producer now.”

“What, so I’m outta a job?”

“I’m not kicking you out,” Joshua said, almost pleading. “You just don’t have any obligations. Other than your sentence, I guess.”

“With Neku as my warden,” Hanekoma sighed out. “You didn’t need to plan a jailbreak, J. You’ve waited longer than five years for things before. It’s hardly an eye-blink to people like us.”

Joshua slunk to the floor, defeated and boneless as he slid down the broom handle. A small cloud of debris puffed up around him as he went.

“Drama queen,” Hanekoma tsk’ed as he joined his former colleague on the floor, nesting his wings around himself. “I can’t say this isn’t nice though. Missed ya, J. Being honest, I don’t remember much at all from that place, anyway. Could’ve been a long time there before I became myself again without your little stunt.”

Joshua didn’t answer.

They sat in silence a few moments, then Hanekoma choked back a cry as his coworker—his friend—grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arms around him just under his wings. Hanekoma flapped them in surprise as Joshua buried his head in the down.

Angel and Reaper wings were their Soul; one didn’t just touch them—not without explicit permission. To touch someone’s wings meant someone else could feel what they did. Feel their joy, their disgust, their pain, or all at once.

Hanekoma didn’t pull away. He could hear—just barely, but it was there—Joshua sobbing silently into his back. Joshua was, for the first time in his so-called-life, showing Hanekoma a vulnerability he didn’t know the other even possessed. Slowly, the barista relaxed both sets of shoulders, taking on more and more of Joshua’s weight until his Composer was literally leaning on him as much as metaphorically.

Seconds ticked away from Joshua’s Pegasso crystal-quartz watch, which turned to minutes, then a solid half hour. Slowly, Hanekoma felt the weight lift.

“You let me,” Joshua said, a bit hoarse, patting the down where wing phased through clothes.

“You needed it, J. Pain shared is pain halved. I was happy to listen.”

“You didn’t want to be saved,” Joshua said sharply. “Forgive me for feeling like you were ungrateful. But… you weren’t. You were protecting me from the angels and a sentence like yours. You were a fall guy.”

“Yes,” Hanekoma said slowly. “I didn’t want you to suffer, too. Not being visible to the RG is hardly a penalty compared to what I have.”

“Pain shared is pain halved,” Joshua threw back at him, wiping snot off his face. If he’d been in his teenage form, he would have looked like just another kid. But Joshua was an ugly crier, and as an adult, he just looked silly—more so with a few errant feathers from Hanekoma’s back stuck to his dripping snot and hair.

“Wash up—the backroom sink works,” Hanekoma insisted, flapping his wings a few times to get rid of any other loose feathers. “I need to do some tidying, anyway.”

Joshua reverently ran his fingers through the shoulder of Hanekoma’s left wing. “Clean the shop all you want; you know all about me and dirt. But leave this part to me.”

Xxx

“I kinda expected more, Sanae.” Joshua leaned in the doorframe, pristine as her always presented himself to the public.

“I’m not exactly going to waste my magic, Boss.” Hanekoma went back to wiping down the countertops with a wet rag. The only change Joshua could see was all the broken furniture piled in a corner, with the floor debris in an equally uncoordinated pile.

“The human way?” Joshua asked with a smirk.

“If I’m not your Producer, I need a little art project to keep me busy.”

“Wouldn’t really call fixing a coffee shop art,” Joshua scoffed.

“It’s not not art, though,” Hanekoma countered, flinging the wet rag on a shoulder and smiling at the dented, but still functional, kettle on the burner, whistling away. “Tea?”

“Mm,” Joshua hummed with a nod. “Also, Neku’s phone was ringing nonstop.” He pulled his own from a pocket. “Oh. It’s past ten PM. Someone’s probably been wondering what happened to him. Least it’s still the same day we left.” Joshua cracked a small smile. “Gone for a week and the mortals think you’re dead or something.”

Hanekoma threw the rag square in Joshua’s face, storming past him to go retrieve the offending cell phone.

Xxx

Hanekoma sat on one of the two useable stools, Joshua behind him on the other, sipping tea from one hand while using the other to pull out stuck feathers. The barista unlocked Neku’s phone, scrolling through twenty missed calls. “Shiki. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

“You planning to call?”

“I should. Neku’s probably going to need a day or more to recuperate. And then you’re going to call his mother and let her know he’s sick with a fever.”

“Can’t. RG people can’t perceive me for another few years, remember? Phone calls included.” He grinned toothily. “You’ll just have to clean up the mess for me.”

Hanekoma sighed, stretching out his wings a little so Joshua could pull out all the powder down stuck from his eons of not taking care of himself, and pressed a familiar name in the missed calls history. “Hello? Shiki?”

“Oh my god, is this the police? Where’s Neku?”

“Shiki,” Hanekoma smiled a little, glad for a familiar voice. “It’s… Hanekoma Sanae—the café shop owner on Cat Street.”

Hanekoma waited patiently as Shiki processed what that meant. “If Neku is dead, I’m wringing a long line of necks. Joshua’s first; something tells me this is his fault.”

Joshua laughed hard enough to slam forward into the angel’s back; Sanae shot him a glare. “Neku is alive, but he’s taken a massive hit of Imagination. He’s probably going to sleep a day or two.”

“But he’s alive.”

“Alive and in no pain, with no injury. Mortals just can’t handle being around a city Composer too long.” Hanekoma glared over his shoulder at a snickering young-looking man in a lilac button down.

“I’m coming over there,” Shiki insisted. “And Joshua better be ready to take a knee to the balls.”

“Unfortunately, you won’t be able to see or hear him, but hang on,” Hanekoma said, pushing back on the deadweight behind him with his wings. “I’m putting you on speaker. Feel free to yell at him—I already have.”

Hanekoma clicked to speakerphone, maximizing the volume and holding the phone out behind him.

“Go ahead, Shiki. He can hear you.”

Shiki took in a deep breath, expelling a gasp of colorfully laced expletives so pointed Joshua’s hair began to catch fire. The moment she was out of breath, she slammed the end-call button with enough force that Joshua’s wings twitched, even within their aether.

“Josh, you’d better be out of my shop before she gets here or you’re going to be in deep shit.”

“I didn’t realize someone who played the Game before could deal that much splash damage,” Joshua complained, patting out the embers on the edges of his loose curls.

“You were human once yourself, J. Now bolt before she sets all of you on fire.”

“Good night to you too,” Joshua grumped, crossing his arms as he slid off the seat, leaving Hanekoma’s wings in a worse looking state than when he’d started. He saluted awkwardly to the sighing barista, disappearing out into the night.

Xxx

“How are you holding up, kiddo?”

Neku rubbed the crust out of his eyes. “What year is it?”

“Same one you were in before this mess.” Hanekoma smiled. “You slept away three days, though. I impersonated you on the phone to your mom and college—hope that’s alright.”

“So it’s…”

“Monday night. Six PM. Josh’s going to stay away from you for a while.”

“That why I feel like shit?”

“Mhmm. You want me to bring you in some food?”

“Bathroom,” Neku complained.

“Think mine still works.”

“You think?”

“Neku, I’m not human. I’ve never needed it.”

Xxx

“So now what?” Neku bit into his burger; nothing Hanekoma made, but then again, his kitchen was mostly still in shambles.

“I guess I rebuild. Maybe I take some art classes at community college.”

“Then I’m helping.”

“No, you’re-”

Neku glared up from his dinner. “That’s not up for debate. I’m your prison warden, remember? I help and in return, you let me paint in here.”

Hanekoma laughed. “You don’t even need to ask permission for that.”

“Oh, so I can tag every wall, floor, and ceiling in this bombed out husk of a deserted island?”

The barista frowned, leaning forward on the counter. “That didn’t get me any closer to having any inspiration, you know.”

“And I think that’s a lie,” Neku replied, crossing his arms. “Josh didn’t see it either. Maybe the individual components were copies, but that space you made in that other place was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Incredible doesn’t even begin to describe it. Nothing we do is truly unique anyway; we’re always working off the backs of those who came before us. It’s what voice we add to that conversation that makes our art what it is and… I should really be following my own advice. Hang on. I’m making a few calls, and you’re not stopping me.”

Neku pulled out his phone and rolled through his contacts list. “Hey, Sho. I’ve got a destroyed café here ripe for a giant-ass chandelier. You in?”

“Neku,” the other end of the line sounded annoyed. “I don’t do electrical.”

“So? You do the sculpture; I’ll get someone else to wire.”

“It’s going to be made of trash.”

“Why do you think I called your ass? Take notes; here’s the address.”

Xxx

“I haven’t done heavy lifting in… forever,” Hanekoma said, wiping actual sweat off his brow. It was a weird feeling, being sort-of human, but he couldn’t say he didn’t like it. The past six weeks had been a whirlwind with Neku in charge, directing a steady stream of ethereal beings— self included— into a massive renovation of his shop. The place was an explosion of color and life, an irony in real time to contrast the lack of both on the owner.

“Quit complaining,” Uzuki demanded, hauling the other end of the new bar counter. “If I can get Kariya to lift your tables in, you can help with your own damn high-top.”

“The one you danced on,” Hanekoma said with a grin, looking down at the hot purple and neon orange footprints crisscrossing the acrylic-sealed bar counter. The two had tangoed across a plank, then encased it for eternity in enough two-stage resin that it would never fade—Neku was particularly proud of that collaboration. Uzuki pushed the shop door with her shoulder, so both of them could bring the counter inside.

“—and you don’t need to hold that ladder, Neku.”

“I don’t want you falling,” Neku snapped back, looking up at the Reaper wiring in the shop’s new light fixture. It looked like a vending machine had exploded on the ceiling, and Hanekoma loved it.

“Neku, I can fly,” Triple Seven replied, waving a pair of wire strippers. He was flapping his wings to show those off as well, not that Neku could see them from the RG.

“My masterpiece can’t,” Sho grumbled from the corner, looking on in a mix of horror and awe as Seven worked his stage rigging magic to get the recycled-bottle chandelier hooked into the building’s wiring.

“Look, it’s way easier for me to do this if I’m not trying to balance,” Seven sighed out. “Sho, get up here and hold it in place, so I can finish. Neku, go help do something that doesn’t involve a ceiling or frying yourself on open electricals.”

Sho sighed, stood up, and vanished back into the UG, flapping up to hold the sculpture as Seven jumped off the ladder. Neku winced, unable to see either of them.

“If you can hear me, I’m going to check on Shiki and her friends making chair cushions.” Sho rattled the ladder with his foot, and Neku smiled. “Hey, Mr. H, your shop’s haunted.”

“I’d be more worried if it wasn’t.”

Xxx

“So?” Hanekoma slid a ceramic cup down the acrylic to Neku. “Get your grade back yet?”

“Semester ends in January, Mr. H; it’s gonna be a while yet. How about your magic?”

“While this helped, no. It’ll be a while yet for me too. Can’t complain about the décor, though.”

Hanekoma and Neku grinned, taking in the space. Except for one section of wall painted with chalkboard paint for patrons to go wild doodling on, every square inch of the shop was covered in art altogether dizzying and explosively contrast in design.

“Opens tomorrow, right? My teacher is coming around again to see it.”

“Soft open today though.”

“Sign said closed,” Neku pointed out with his teaspoon.

“Maybe for the living.”

“Ah, a few reapers pass by?” Neku asked with a smile. “Hey, make a bet with you.”

“What?”

“How many days the shop’s open before a paying customer draws a dick on your wall.”

“Zero.”

Neku looked sideways as a handful of change bounced across the counter, Sho coming into view. He downed his already half-drunk coffee and loped to the chalkboard to vandalize it. Neku flicked his eyes at the empty tables and chairs, a massive grin breaking out on his face as every single one was filled in with a Reaper, raising glasses in toast.

“We all needed someplace to stay,” Hanekoma said on the room’s behalf. “Thanks for giving us a home. It’s still pretty broken and lopsided, but I promise we’ll keep the lights on.”

“Mr. H, this was already your home.”

He shook his head. “No, Neku. It was only a shop.”

“If its home, does that mean the drinks are free?” A few reapers turned to the furthest corner of the room—Joshua grinned, sitting backwards in his chair.

“J, what did I say about coming ‘round when Neku’s here?” Hanekoma scolded.

“…Don’t?”

“Short bursts only, lest you want to clean up the exploding brains on the wall.”

Neku shrugged. “It’ll probably add to the ambiance.”

#TWEWY #The World Ends With You #TWEWY Bang 2020 #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #divisionten #submission

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wrenarrior · 4 years

Text

Crown of Blood

The day had begun like any other day had. The sun rose, its violent rays rousing Adelaide from her bed. Once fully awake, she walked to her window, opening the curtains ever so slightly, to take in the view. The wide expanse of green before her eyes would soon be hers to rule over.

After years of watching her father rule the small nation benevolently, it was now time for Adelaide to follow in his footsteps. People of all ages would be looking up to her, hoping she’d make the right choices. To help their small nation prosper and to defend it from their enemies.

The door creaked open and a face peeked into the room. “Adelaide, your father requests your presence at the table. Please come quickly. There’s much to do today. Are you listening?”

Keeping her gaze out the window, Adelaide responded, “Yes, mother. I’ll be down shortly.”

Shortly after the door closed, a large purple object appeared in the distance. Immediately, Adelaide’s hand went to her mouth. It couldn’t be. Not him. Of all days, please not today.

Unable to take her eyes off the scenery outside, Adelaide was frozen in fear. The purple object flew closer and closer until it began to take a form. That of a half-dragon, half-human monster.

Marvin.

For reasons unknown to Adelaide, this abomination had been trying time and time again to take over the kingdom. First, through attempts at marriage, and now, it looked like he would attack.

If she screamed now, the guards would be in her room in two seconds flat. But something caught her eye that made her reconsider that notion. Marvin was flying empty-handed and alone.

Now that he was closer to her window, she could clearly see that. Is he here to propose again? She frowned, looking down at herself. I’m hardly ready for any visitors. I’m in my night clothes.

But it was too late. Marvin transcended through the window, barely dodging Adelaide, and stumbled to the ground. Sighing, Adelaide walked over and stepped on his long purple wing.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” She crossed her arms over his chest, glaring down at the intruder. “How many times must I reject you before you understand that I am not interested?”

“Ow! Ow!” Marvin screamed. “My wing. You’re stepping on my bloody wing. Do you not understand how sensitive it is? Adelaide, if you don’t step off right now, you’ll break it.”

Adelaide lifted her foot one inch, still hovering it above the wing. “Fine, but if you refuse to cooperate with my questions, I will break your wings this time. Today is my coronation.”

“I know, and that’s why I came here to warn you.” Marvin stood up, trying to tend to his wings. “Adelaide, your life is in danger. You may not trust me after last time, but you need my help.”

A knock at the door interrupted the two, followed by a shout. “Adelaide, I know you’re in there. Your parents are waiting for you at the breakfast table. It would be rude to make them wait.”

Glancing between Marvin and the door, Adelaide shouted back. “I’ll be down in a minute!” She waited a few moments for the footsteps to retreat before saying, “You need to leave, Marvin.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said about your life being in danger?” Marvin rose an eyebrow. “Or are you too deaf to hear me properly? Forget the coronation. You could end up dying today.”

“Okay. Fine. Stay here. I’ll deal with you after the coronation.” Adelaide took a deep breath, walking towards the door. “Don’t move an inch, and if anyone comes, hide in the closet.”

As she closed the door, Marvin’s last words were lost in the space between them. “You’ll be too late!” His words of warning fell into the void of silence while Adelaide stormed far, far away.

✖ ✖ ✖

The minister of royal affairs placed the large golden crown on Adelaide’s head. “And now, with this ceremonious crowning complete, I dub thee Princess Adelaide, the new ruler of Astyae.”

Applause erupted throughout the streets and in every nook and cranny of the kingdom. Overwhelm with emotion, Adelaide’s own mother shed a few tears, radiating with joy.

But as the saying goes, it’s always fun and games until someone gets hurt.

It happened too fast for Adelaide to register it happening, but when she looked over, her father was slumped forward in his chair. Dark blood pooled out of his mouth, his eyes, and his ears.

A scream cut into the air, and it took Adelaide a second to realize that she was screaming. Her next movements were frantic as she ran over to her father while several guards followed suit.

And as if things couldn’t get any worse for her, the same blood, in terms of texture and color, appeared on Adelaide’s hands. Before the guards could see, she ran away in the ensuing chaos.

Guilt gnawed away at her conscious, but Adelaide knew that if the guards saw her hands, they would think she was responsible. Unsure of where else to go, she ran back to her room to hide.

In her haste, she forgot that Marvin was still in her room, and at the sight of him, she backed up against the closed door. “Marvin, remember that thing you said about me almost dying?”

“Yeah, wh— holy fuck, your hands are covered in blood.” Marvin’s eyes widened. “This is why I told you to listen to me, Adelaide. Someone replaced the crown with a fake one. Your father has been wearing it for at least a few days, and when you put it on, it killed the previous wearer.”

Unfortunately for Adelaide, the door broke down and two guards stormed in. As soon as their eyes landed on her blood-stained hands, they knew what happened— that she could be involved.

And as soon as she was gone, Marvin became the new king.

[January 2018]

#writing

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niyes-lahiffe · 6 years

Text

Soapy Decks and Flying Underwear

Listening to Pirates of the Caribbean while reading is not required but is strongly recommended.

The Jade Crew and the Coral Crew are mortal enemies. It all started when the Coral Crew went to go find an ancient treasure to which they finally discovered the whereabouts, only to find the Jade Crew sailing away from that exact location the moment they got there, taking the prized possessions with them. Now, they always seem to find out about the same treasures at the same time and one crew ALWAYS beats the other, only heating their rivalry. The crews have never actually met each other face to face, but they do indeed recognize one another's flags. With disdain and scorn.

The Jade Crew: Nino Lahiffe (captain) Adrien Agreste (co-captain) Le Chien Kim (lookout) Rose Lavillant Juleka Couffaine Chloe Bourgeois Sabrina Raincomprix Luka Couffaine

The Coral Crew: Alya Césaire (captain) Marinette Dupain-Cheng (co-captain) Alix Kubdel (lookout) Mylene Harprele Ivan Bruel Nathaniel Kurtzberg Max Kante Kagami Tsurugi

Ao3

Chapter 1: Stormy Seas

The sound of the waves gently lapping against the edge of the boat was one of the most relaxing things in the world, Nino found. He placed his elbows along the trim of his ship and closed his eyes, letting the way it slowly rocked back and forth lull him away from his far-from-unwinding thoughts he had previously. This was definitely his favorite way to calm down after a stressful day.

Still, the back of his head prickled with annoyance and he couldn't stop himself from pondering about the day's earlier events. That blasted Coral Crew...they thought they could just go ahead and steal something his own crew was after for days without punishment! He knew he couldn't just let them off but he was stuck on ideas of what to do.

"Uh, Captain Nino?"

He jumped back slightly, startled enough to have his hand automatically wander to the gun that rested near his waist. He sighed in relief when he realized it was only Luka, his shipmate's ocean blue eyes wide from his captain's sudden threatening movements.

Luka held up his arms with a nervous smile. "Ah, sorry, Cap, didn't mean to startle ya, there!"

Nino noticed his hand still resting on the tip of his weapon and he quickly straightened himself so as not to scare his companion. "It's fine, Luka. I apologize if I startled you." He put on a friendly grin before continuing. "Is there something you needed?"

Luka smiled back before gesturing behind himself. "Yeah, Kim wanted me to warn you that the clouds are darker further in the direction we're going, so there may be a storm up ahead," he replied. "Do you want to change direction or tackle it head-on?"

Nino turned his head to stare at the seas ahead. The water was a beautiful blue as it continued to rush with the wind. The sky ahead was also bluer than Luka's hair, but the ship's captain had learned in the past not to judge what Kim said. He was an expert up in the Crow's Nest, after all, even if there wasn't a cloud in sight.

Nino sighed again. "I'm not feeling risky tonight...tell Kim I'll change the ship's course."

Luka saluted without hesitation, saying, "Right away, Cap!" before running off.

Nino barely had any time to register what he was about to do before a plate of food was shoved into his chest. "Hey there, captain! You look hungry!" That cheerful voice could belong to only one of his crewmates. He looked up to meet the friendly face of Rose Lavillant, her eyes as big and as blue as ever.

A bit thrown off by her sudden interruption, Nino quickly righted himself by grabbing hold of the plate. He smiled at her weakly while trying to push the food back in her direction. "Heh, thanks, Rose, but I'm really not that-"

"Oh, I insist, captain!" she happily interrupted, pushing the plate back towards him a little too harshly, causing Nino to grunt from the force. Bits and pieces of food were starting to fall off from the excessive movements but she persisted nonetheless.

Nino's second in command walked up to the two with an amused expression. He gently grabbed the edge of the plate and pushed it back towards Rose. "How about we don't kill the captain by stabbing him vigorously with a slab of stone, hm?" he teased.

Rose stepped back and giggled. "Sorry!" She used one hand to hold the plate while she played with a strand of her short golden hair with the other. "I just noticed Nino was looking a little down so I thought some food could possibly cheer him up."

"Well, who could say no to that?" Adrien beamed, grabbing Nino's hand so he could lead him to a table once Rose had joyfully walked off.

"Seriously, Adrien, I don't-"

Adrien stopped and grabbed Nino's shoulders, giving his captain a look so stern that he shut his mouth. "Look, sir, I get it. You're disappointed. We're all bummed after what happened today. But should we wallow in pity until the sun falls, hoping that tomorrow we'll have better luck?" Nino opened his mouth to respond but his co-captain continued before he could say anything. "No! The Pearls of Rapum aren't the only treasures to exist! We're pirates, Nino; we don't give up after one measly disappointment. We find the whereabouts to a new treasure and go for that. This isn't the first time the Coral Crew has beaten us and it probably won't be the last, but do you know how many times we've beaten them? More times than we can count. So let's find a new location and go for something of value there. And, of course we need food in our bellies before we can do anything so sit. And eat."

Nino was rendered speechless at his friend's sudden motivation as Adrien grabbed his shoulders and gently but firmly pushed him into a seat.

Adrien had always had that ability and Nino couldn't even be mad about it. They had been best friends since they were toddlers running around half-naked but the captain never got used to Adrien's spontaneous positivity.

Still, Adrien was right. He shouldn't be sulking around all day when there was still tons to find. He smiled as more of his crew came and sat with him at the food-packed table. “Heh...I guess you’re right,” he murmured.

------------------------------

Alya yelped as she jumped and clutched onto the main mast. She liked to tell herself she wasn’t afraid of anything but her pet fox running around psychotically with a sword in its mouth was a bit frightening, to say the least. She didn't know how Trixx was able to get his jaws on the extra weapons lying around the ship and yet here he was, pelting through the ship at speed that would rival a cheetah's, everyone leaping out of the way frantically so as not to get unnecessarily chopped into pieces.

This wasn't the first time it's happened, either, but it was always an exhilarating experience.

Alya heard laughing from up above and she looked up to see her lookout guffawing relentlessly, pointing her finger at all her scurrying crewmates.

"Alix Kubdel, if you think this is so funny then you get down and deal with the fox!" Alya yelled angrily.

"Nah, I think I'm good." Only Alix would talk back to the captain without worry. "He's your fox, why don't you deal with him?"

Alya grunted as she climbed slightly higher, replying, "I'd rather not get sliced into bits of pirate today," as she went.

"Well, same goes here, Cap," Alix said, leaning her arm against the edge of the Crow's Nest as she peered down at Alya.

"I'm more important than you." Alya felt a hint of a smirk appearing on her lips.

"Maybe so, but I am your only lookout," the other pirate playfully argued. "How about we send Nathaniel after Trixx, then?"

"HEY!" an offended voice sounded from below.

Alix and Alya started snickering. After a moment, Alix said, "Uhhh, Cap? You might want to look down."

The captain didn't exactly know what to think of the sight of her fox running circles around the mast she was clutching to. It looked ridiculous and terrifying at the same time.

"Okay, okay, someone's got to deal with this and it might as well be me," Alya mumbled, steadily climbing lower. Trixx noticeably slowed as she got nearer to the ground, looking up at her expectantly with those big and purple eyes of his.

"Trixx," Alya said, trying to keep her voice as firm and demanding as possible. The canine tilted his head. "Put. It. Down."

To her surprise, the fox opened his jaws immediately, sending the weapon to the floor with a loud, metallic clank. He wagged his tail joyfully at Alya as she stared in disbelief as though he expected some sort of reward for his obedient behavior.

"Well, that was easy," Alix's voice said from above.

"Shut up," Alya found herself replying. She picked up the sword and pointed it at Nathaniel, who squeaked in surprise. “Nath, take this-“ She tossed the sword at him and he leaped to the side with a yelp. “-and find anything else lying around that could be dangerous and put it somewhere so my fox can't get his grubby paws all over it." She winked at him to lighten the mood.

As Nath picked up the sword and ran off, Alya heard someone from behind her excitedly yelling, "Captain! Captain!" She turned and smiled at Mylene, who was holding a rolled up piece of paper as she ran up to her captain. She clutched her knees and took a few moments to catch her breath, but when she lifted her head and started talking again, there was a joyful spark in her eye and a beaming smile on her face. "Look what I found!" Mylene handed Alya the piece of paper. It was slightly yellow in color and had a texture resembling that of an old leaf, indicating it's age. She carefully opened it so it wouldn't tear as Mylene continued, "I went downstairs after Trixx started running around rambunctiously. While I was down there, I decided to explore a bit and I found a tiny trapdoor underneath one of our barrels. In it was this!"

Alya first gawked at the map before her eyes, then at her crewmate. She couldn't stop her huge grin that was steadily growing bigger by each passing second. "Wh-was there anything else in that trapdoor?!"

Mylene shook her head. "It was barely big enough to fit that map."

"Mylene, this is AWESOME!" Alya squealed, engulfing her friend in a hug. "I can't believe you found this!" Mylene giggled and Alya pulled back to study the map once more. "First the Pearls of Rapum and now this? This is the greatest day of my life!" After thanking Mylene excessively, the captain ran off to go tell her second in command the news.

Marinette was currently in charge of steering the boat, obviously lost in her own world as Alya peeked through the window. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Alya dramatically kicked the door open.

"ALYA, you scared the living-"

"Look at this!" Alya slammed the map onto the steering wheel and Marinette blinked at it, the bright red parrot sitting on her shoulder squawking quietly. "Go on, look!"

As Marinette examined the ancient piece of paper, her eyes steadily grew wider. "This isn't..."

"It is!" Alya nearly screamed with joy. "It's directions to one of the world's most famous and sought-out jewel: the Jade Turtle!"

------------------------------

Nino smiled to himself as he wandered to the back of the boat, feeling pleasant with his now full belly. His crew always found a way to cheer him up.

Juleka was leaning against the edge of the ship, staring at the water as though its every movements were mesmerizing to her eyes.

"He still there?" Nino asked, coming up behind her to peer over the trim. Without glancing away, Juleka nodded, a small smile gracing her lips.

The captain chuckled. "That turtle sure has guts following a pirate boat. He's lucky turtles are my favorite animals." He tilted his head at the green creature as it bobbed back and forth in the water, keeping up with ease. Nino hummed, "Maybe it already knows that."

"That turtle looks smart," Juleka added coolly. "I think it knows something we don't."

Nino felt a raindrop on his hand as he nodded in agreement. A few days ago, Sabrina informed everyone that a large turtle was following the boat. Everyone thought it was a little peculiar, for none of them had experienced anything like that before, but they decided to pay it no mind. What was really odd was when they found it still there a day later, swimming along with them as though the boat was now it's new destination. Everyone had started talking about it, wanting to adopt it and give it a name. Nino hadn't exactly wanted to do that yet because he didn't know how long the animal would be following them and he knew naming it would only get him attached to it.

The boat suddenly lurched sharply, throwing a few people to the side as a surprised grunt escaped from Nino's lips. He turned around and felt another raindrop on his nose as he looked up at the ominously dark clouds. A sense of dread overcame him.

They were about to run into a storm! Hadn't he changed the vessel's course so they could avoid it?

Then he realized he got distracted by his crew before he could do anything. He cursed as the rain began to fall harder, members of his crew already scurrying to their prepared positions for bad weather.

The ship shifted again, this time much harsher than before. Nino ran forward and grabbed the ship's rigging as it wandered into the ever-worsening storm, climbing a bit before he turned and tried finding the easiest way out. He shook his head rigorously and placed his hand above his eyes to avoid more water falling into them as he continued to search.

"CAPTAIN!" a voice cried desperately. He looked down and found both Rose and Luka trying to steady the steering wheel, gritting their teeth in frustration and concentration. Rose looked up at him and wheezed, "It won't budge!"

He leaped down and ran over to them, not hesitating to grab the wheel and help make an attempt to steer it in another direction.

"Which way is the best to go?" Luka asked through clenched teeth.

"I don't know," Nino responded, voice strained. "The clouds are dark in every direction!"

With one final heave, all three of them were able to turn the steering wheel to the right. They huffed successfully, a bit too out of breath to cheer loud and sincerely. Nino grabbed the compass in his pocket and told them what direction they were going. He made sure they were good on their own before he ran off to check on everyone else and make sure everything was alright and well prepared for the storm.

He found Chloe leaning over the edge of the boat. He went up to her and placed his hand on her back, and when she looked up at him, her face was a sickly shade of green. She never did do well whenever the boat decided to do anything but sail smoothly.

"You need to go downstairs," Nino commanded gently yet firmly. He was worried that if she hung around the edge of the boat for too long while the weather was out of control, she might fly overboard. He wasn't going to let that happen to any of his crew. For once, Chloe nodded without arguing, most likely too ill to protest, and she ran in the direction of the door leading to the bottom of the boat.

Nino knew he should've been prepared for when his vessel powerfully tilted once more, but the force of it threw him forward. His stomach rammed into the boat's lining and he wheezed at the pain and sudden loss of air. Before he had a chance to catch his breath, there was another lurch and he flung overboard with a yelp.

He opened his mouth to scream as he fell but the rushing wind grabbed whatever was escaping from his lips and tossed it away. He tried to catch a rope hanging from the side of the boat but his hands wouldn't cooperate properly and before he knew it, he slammed into the dark water with an inaudible splash, excruciating pain flowing throughout his entire body like a river of death. Nino opened his eyes despite himself and found himself sinking lower, farther and farther away from the surface of the water that would grant him the gracious air he was loosing by each passing second. Ignoring his agony, he kicked his legs sharply, trying to swim to the top.

Try as he might, the low light from his destination only grew smaller and blurrier.

Nino knew it was bad when he started to see black in his worsening vision. Okay, saying it was bad was an understatement. He needed air at that moment otherwise he would drown.

His head throbbed painfully and his eyes closed without his consent. His heart was nearly beating right out of his chest and he was sure every creature in the sea could hear it. That was the least of Nino's worries, though, for before he knew it, his consciousness slipped away and everything grew black.

#miraculous ladybug #djwifi #djwifi pirate au #soapy decks and flying underwear #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #fics #my fics #SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG #BUT I GOT IT DONE WHOOP

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terryblount · 5 years

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RAGE 2 – Review

What is the secret behind a good sequel? Some of the best examples focus on refining what was poorly implemented in the first instalment, while others just carry on the story and leave the core gameplay largely intact. On the other hand, certain sequels have achieved greatness by making everything bigger or more elaborate, and yet some of my favourites are basically just a graphical upgrade.

While there seems to be no clear or definitive answer, there is actually a common thread between all these different approaches. A good sequel comes from a developer that can objectively ask what their game needs. This may seem like an oversimplification, but all the best sequels in our industry work because they find something new in the familiar. A good sequel has the potential to lift out an I.P.’s residual potential rather than adding, rebooting, beautifying or changing.

That hair style was all the reason I needed.

So this brings us to RAGE 2, a sequel. This collaboration between id Software and Avalance Studios has stayed within the first game’s premise, but the graphics, gunplay and scope of the game have all been overclocked. I can sense an attempt towards continuity from the first game, and yet it feels like RAGE 2 could do without many of the changes that have been added. As an open world game, there is undeniably a solid experience here, but I would have a hard time convincing fans of the original to go out of their way to play this.

Up your asteroid

The first RAGE game was a pretty big deal back in 2010 even if the story hardly brought anything new to the genre. RAGE was released during the ‘Crysis era’ when first-person shooters were at the forefront of graphical experimentation. See, you played Rage to benchmark John Carmack’s fancy new ‘Mega Texture’ tech building the game’s identity from the world around you.

Rage plunged the player into a bleak world filled with mutants and garage bandits fighting for survival in the aftermath of a cataclysmic asteroid strike (rather than a nuclear winter you see often nowadays). RAGE 2 plays out within this same setting, but takes place 30 years later in a civilisation that has risen from the ashes and is no longer trying to get by on scraps of resources.

Meet the leader of The Authority.

Players thus enter a world in which the Arks, or satellites preserving life on earth, have been reactivated and a new world is beginning to emerge. Unfortunately, a formidable faction seen in the first game, named The Authority, has proclaimed themselves the leaders of this new Earth. Rather than earn their leadership, they have used a series of bloody wars to obliterate anyone standing between them and their authoritarian regime.

The only opposition that once proved a match for The Authority are a division of technologically-enhanced mercenaries called rangers. You play as either a male or female version of the last, surviving ranger named Walker (I can neither confirm nor deny if this is some kind of Chuck Norris reference). The campaign is subsequently centred on Walker’s exploits of starting a contingency plan against The Authority named operation Dagger. You do this by shooting, blowing up, eradicating and driving over anything they deem even mildly important.

Choose wisely. The game kills off the character you don’t choose shortly after this.

What’s my age again?

Sounds kind of familiar right? Well, Avalanche Studios are the developers of the Just Cause series, and they have fallen back on their tried and trusted template of toppling a South-American dictator here. Yet, this is also the problem since RAGE 2 plunges into the trap that I see many open-world games fall into. Namely, the rather poorly-told story just ends up fading into the background.

Now many might say “Hold up, the Just Cause games are about blowing stuff up, not a moving, deep story!” True, but remember that the post-apocalyptic and open-world genres are hopelessly oversaturated markets right now. Seeing as RAGE’s story was somewhat underdeveloped, this would have been the perfect opportunity for RAGE 2 to make me care about its plot and characters some more.

These arks are scattered all over the Wasteland. They unlock powers for Walker’s ranger armour.

Instead, you have to grind your way to a farcical and irrelevant main villain via a series of noticeably repetitive tasks. Let me be clear that these tasks are fun, but the fun only lasts for small doses at a time. Playing RAGE 2 gets monotonous too quick for comfort because every play through eventually began to feel like I was working my way down a checklist. Killed all those mutants? Check. Destroyed this big sentry turret? Check. Cleared the outpost of bandits? Check… why am I doing all this again?

This is a problem I see all the time in the abundance of open world types filling up my backlog. A character would yak-yak-yak away telling me so-and-so has their such-and-such and the solution is to go to point x and kill every last y. I don’t care about such-and-such because I don’t know them, and don’t bother yacking my ear off because I know how the mission is going to go anyway. This feels too similar to what I have been doing for the last 2 hours, and it is a design philosophy in open world games that needs to evolve.

Smash that asteroid

So you will probably forget the story, but does the gameplay redeem RAGE 2? Well, sort of. RAGE 2’s gameplay ends up feeling like a weird hybrid of genres. It is like 2016’s DOOM hardware, but running on Far Cry’s software. This means that Bethesda has recycled the explosive, momentum-based mechanics they had virtually perfected in 2016, and revived it in a lush, open world this time.

That is the actual shock wave from my shotgun.

What do you actually do in RAGE 2? You shoot the crap out of things, so that you can collect things, so that you can upgrade things, which is interspersed with the occasional race through the wasteland. It is really that simple because the aim of the game is not to find missions. The player’s task is using an arsenal of weapons and traversal abilities in order to turn themselves into a killing juggernaut.

RAGE 2 absolutely nails this part because the combat truly goes out of its way to make the player feel dangerous. It is every bit as gloriously violent as DOOM, except demons have been replaced with split-lipped mutants and punks who look like they are attending a Rammstein concert. There are also show-downs with big bosses who were deadly head-on, but fell quickly once I used Walker’s smooth acrobatics to stay just one step ahead of their sights.

Thank heavens for the dash ability.

The first RAGE had some of the best enemy AI I have ever seen in a video game, and this has been faithfully preserved in its sequel. Enemies dodge and leap out of your gunfire while their companions would sneakily flank you from behind, forcing you to switch to close-range artillery. Virtually all the missions dealing with baddies involved either clearing an outpost/bridge/building claimed by bandits, or, in the case of the mutants, it was a closed-off, darker lairs where Walker could mow them down in droves.

As a side note, I played as the female version because reasons, but this frequently became annoying due to the actress’s voice acting. I would recommend the male Walker because nearly every time she received an injury, she made a moaning sound which I can only describe as somewhere between an orgasm, and giving birth.

In any case, killing enemies gives you various kinds of loot used for the aforementioned upgrading, but once the environment is covered in blood, the player can also explore for additional goodies hidden in cooler boxes and crates. You will know it is loot because they are painted shocking pink. Who the hell was making all this pink paint before the apocalypse!? Far Cry: New Dawn this is your fault.

This brings me to the second issue I took with RAGE 2 because the developers have just gone way over the top with locked content. Worse still, the upgrades have all been arranged in a rather convoluted system of menus and sub-menus that made me exhausted by just looking at them. It is all really just too much since I rarely noticed the upgrades once I unlocked them, and let’s not forget that the first game had a much more subtle emphasis on this aspect of gameplay.

Look at all these upgrades… you don’t need.

Road Rage

Since Half-life 2 introduced drivable vehicles into shooter games, cars were basically just an interesting way of getting over long distance. Again, RAGE was sensitive to this. You could do races which I actually enjoyed as a minor distraction, but the major purpose of the armour-clad dune buggies was to get you through dangerous terrain.

The vehicles serve a much more central role in RAGE 2 as there is a lot more driving and races. I actually had to look both ways before crossing the roads since I was run over more than once, and had to restart from the last checkpoint (lol). However, I still felt most cars to be a little sluggish and unpredictable in their handling.

Some of my vehicular antics.

When cruising through the wasteland to my next objective and taking on convoys with mounted guns, this is less noticeable, thankfully. During the races, it is rage-quit inducing. I found almost no enjoyment in the racing at all since the cars refuse to turn, the handbrake is far too enthusiastic, I occasionally won only for a bug to tell me I placed second, and hitting certain plants made my buggy fly out of the track once. RAGE was much better on this point.

Boy you shur got a purdy mouth

Despite bandits having an unhealthy obsession with the colour pink, RAGE 2 is graphically quite varied. As mentioned, the arks have been terraforming the Earth again which means that forests and wetlands have begun to emerge in certain parts of the wasteland. This makes for a nice distinction between the missions when the same vegetation and rocks begin to test your patience.

Bandits love blocking the roads and attacking anyone caught in the blockade.

This game is also more expansive and more vertical than the claustrophobic canyons or corridors of the first one. There was the occasional, jarring pop-in while driving across the landscape at high speed, but the mountains did a reasonable job of hiding such things in the distance. The slow but steady day-night cycle produced some gorgeous sunsets, and I never felt that the wide variety of textures in the landscapes ever repeated themselves. Avalanche is really good at this stuff.

During combat, the game is more than capable of handling large variety of explosions and particle effects when the action intensifies. This is particularly noticeable when you use the nanotech abilities within the ranger armour. These are movement-based attacks which allow for devastating damage on the punks and muties, and they feel glorious within the physics system built into RAGE 2’s engine. I suppose I do not have to explain what everyone’s favourite, Shatter, does…

Even the sunsets are pink! Pretty though…

Dammit Bethesda

I get that everyone’s favourite target of internet hate is the Epic Store at the moment, but Oh My Gosh the Bethesda client is utter trash. It happened to be the platform on which my review copy arrived, and I instantly remembered why I have been avoiding their stupid software until now. I felt as if I fought with it to play this game.

I urge everyone to purchase RAGE 2 on Steam instead. Virtually every button on the client basically opens up a web page, you have to log in with your password every time, I could not find any option to save screen shots, installation of the game randomly restarted, there are only a handful of games, and my download speed was embarrassingly slow. My experience may represent no reflection on yours, but it is high time we start putting some pressure on Bethesda to get with the program.

That is the question

This conclusion puts me in a difficult situation. If you enjoyed the first game and you are looking to have a repeat performance of that experience, I am afraid that RAGE 2 will leave you disappointed. I actually played RAGE in preparation for this review and I have realised they are almost nothing alike. They share ideas but not experiences, which make me wonder if the title was trying to bait fans by using nostalgia. This feels more like some sort of a standalone expansion to DOOM.

The environments in RAGE 2 feel incredibly alive. Bandits are constantly racing past you and having little skirmishes on the roads.

However, if this is what you are looking for, or your appetite for open world games is somehow not yet slaked, you are going to love this game. The action is refined and intense, the world is big and begging to be explored, and there are tonnes of unlockables to refine your playing style. Matter of fact, you would have to be a cantankerous old fart who’s daily highlight is chasing children off your lawn not to find anything you like here.

Let me therefore emphasise, again, that the problem is how long this fun will last for. After playing for about 5 hours, my map was chockfull of question marks, arks to explore, bandit camps, and so on. One part of me was saying “seriously, do I have to do all that? I just cleared out a hundred hideouts!” The other part was hopping up onto a garage roof, charging up Shatter, and turning some blue-headed sucker into a cranberry smoothie. I like that part of me.

Decent graphics

Combat (DAMN!)

Story

Selection of guns

Interesting environments

Racing

Overemphasis on unlocking

Lackluster story telling

Too far from first game

Boring NPC’s

Play time: About 20 hours total. Combination of both missions relating to main story line with a substantial amount of side questing.

Computer Specs: Windows 10 64-bit computer using Nvidia GTX 1070, i5 4690K CPU, 16GB RAM

RAGE 2 – Review published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/

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terryblount · 5 years

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Anthem Demo First Impressions

Bioware used to be a revered name when it comes to Western RPGs. But lately, they seemed a bit off. Mass Effect Andromeda was an unfortunate mess (though it has some strong points). Can Bioware’s latest IP, the 3rd-person looter shooter RPG Anthem, succeed?

I come from a perspective of someone disappointed in the state of the developers currently, and also someone who’s still scratching his head to understand the long appeal of these looter-shooters. I’m okay with Warframe and Borderlands, but Destiny and The Division just didn’t grab me as much despite spending a significant amount of hours into them.

I’ve played through the Anthem public demo, both on PC and PS4. Outside of some bugs and glitches, I can say that Anthem’s going to be an okay game, thank god.

Familiar Setup

The world of Anthem has a simple to explain setup. The world itself is in an unfinished state, where the ‘gods’, abandoning it. As a result, it’s unstable and filled with dangerous fauna. Remnants of the tech to create the world is still out there, including the titular Anthem Of Creation, but there’s also a faction of baddies that want to control it. You are a Freelancer, and you do tasks like exploring the world and protecting the remnants of humanity housed in Fort Tarsis.

It’s pretty cliche, honestly. Destiny is also doing the whole sci-fi but without nerdy jargons angle. And I have an inkling a lot of the plotline ticks the same boxes as Andromeda did.

Though story-wise, Anthem won’t be delivering the same hooks as Mass Effect or Dragon Age did. There’s no decision that matters (though you do make binary dialogue choices). But at least the banter and conversation between characters in the hub world feel geniune and believeable, so there’s still that Bioware touch.

Suit Up

You pilot Javelins, these Iron Man-esque exosuits that comes in four classes. The demo defaults you to the all-rounder Ranger but you can progress and unlock an additional suit for the demo.

Essentially these are your different classes with unique traits that make for different playstyles. Aside from the Ranger you get the big boy Colossus that acts as the tank. The Interceptor moves fast, has melee combos and made for hit-and-run playstyles while the Storm has elemental powers, floats and wears capes.

On that note, gear are not tied to cosmetics. And there’s a lot of freedom in painting your suits with the right colour on the right material. Yes, you could even pick the different texture of each part of the suit to make it shiner/grimier/rubbery. Anthem took pages from Warframe in this department and it shows, you can make some pretty cool or some godawful colour schemes for your robo-dolls.

As such, the gear you have is all about the numbers and the properties it has. The Ranger has the ability to shoot an assault launcher mounted on its arm. By default, it shoots a direct rocket out of his assault launcher. But you can have it spew flames, cryo rays or even shoot poison darts by equipping different gear.

Mass Effect With Iron Man Suits

As for the combat, it’s terrific. Though I might be biased because I liked Mass Effect Andromeda’s combat which was its saving grace. It’s a third-person shooter and you have jump jets to dodge and jump with. And you can also float mid-air. You can setup combos by pairing one ability to another complementing one for bigger damage.

Weapons feel weighty and punchy and the abilities are a feast of beautiful particle explosions. Enemies have either health bars (red), shields (blue), armour (yellow) or a combination of the two. Aside from the cover system being removed (because why would you be in cover when you wear a big, beautiful exosuit), all of the combat feels right out of Mass Effect Andromeda. And that’s a good thing.

Many of the combat area encourages you to use your mobility, but it’s definitely fine to drop down and just lay down bullets like a regular shooter game sometimes. But when the Ranger can deploy a bubble shield mid-air and will remain floating there, you are definitely encouraged to leave the ground. The enemy AI, however, is not that smart. Most of them are just fodders but they do have abilities designed to flush you out from sitting in one place.

It goes without saying that flying around in the Javelins is a sublime experience. The way the afterburners kick in when you hit sprint after a jump to go flying is super satisfying. On PC, it’s a bit finicky to control with the mouse though. But if you use a controller, it’s a joy traversing the fractured, but beautiful open world.

Also, it’s interesting to see Anthem incorporates elemental properties. You can get overheated for prolonged use of the flying jets, but skimming near water ( you know you get it when the elemental “cooled” is displayed on the top left), you can fly longer. Being set on fire will also stops you from flying so having enemies close to you is dangerous.

These are small details, but it’s intuitive and helps make the combat feel a bit different than the other looter-shooters.

Bugs, Loading, And Other Worrisome Points

Anthem has matchmaking for all the missions. In fact, if you want to do them on your own you will get a warning if you really want to do it all alone. Granted, I tried one of the missions solo and is completely doable. But playing with random folks, I have no issues bar one- the are transitions.

The open world has several areas in caves that you can traverse to that requires a lengthy loading screen to go through. It’s nice that if you are far off from the group you’ll be teleported to them. But those loading screens really took me out of the experience.

Oh, remember the cool part in the E3 reveal where you go to dive underwater? The underwater sections found in the demo were too dark and disorienting and I hated them.

The demo gave us a three mission arc as well as a Stronghold mission, which serves as the endgame. Each mission (expeditions) play out very similarly. Go here. Attack. Interact. Go there. Attack. There are some variations, like defend an area or collect items and place it somewhere else, but nothing too complicated. Nor is it interesting.

Folks who played the VIP demo a week before got the shorthand of the stick as the game had connection issues. While that is solved for the public demo, there are other known bugs that EA and Bioware already know and has fixed for the launch, but are left in this demo.

The sound design is terrific but many sound cues are missing or don’t work. Freeplay, a mode where you can just free roam the open world and join public events, has issues to get in. And it also has issues where you cannot exit Freeplay via the menu. I mashed buttons, including the options button, to find something to do when downed in a non-respawn zone and ended up HUD-less when revived until the end of the mission.

It’s a frustrating experience and I hope they really did fix these issues already.

Final Thoughts

Overall, given my low expectations to begin with, Anthem could be a decent looter shooter RPG. Maybe now EA gets their live service cash cow they needed. The core gameplay is great and the Javelin customisation is immense.

Though there the story isn’t as intriguing or interesting. The gameplay loop could wear down quick. And then there’s the lingering fear on how the servers hold up and how pricy the cosmetics will be. All are fair worrying points.

But at least, I can see that fans of the online RPG looter shooters will be happy. Now there’s another possibly decent game tackling the genre. Though I will stay clear of it on day one.

Anthem will be out for everyone to purchase normally on February 22nd for the PS4, PC (Origin) and Xbox One.

Anthem Demo First Impressions published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/

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