killersquirrel59

Nightwatcher Boon/Bane (Game)

10,886 posts in this topic

Granted, but the door opens into the Cognitive Realm where the Dor is stuffed, and opening it releases torrents of pure, raw Investiture that threatens to rip you apart.

I wish for an Allomantic language medallion.

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Granted, but it is empty.

 

I wish for a sword like Nightblood except ordered to bake cupcakes instead of destroy evil.

 

Edit: Actually though, imagine that "Bake cupcakes! Do you want to bake some cupcakes today? You should draw me so we can bake cupcakes."

Edit 2: I wonder if that still would consume investiture like Nightblood... I kinda doubt it.

Edited by Ishar
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Granted.

As a bane, The Nightwatcher transforms you into cupcake dough. Good luck...

I wish for a toy piglet named Arnold.

Cause reasons.

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Granted, but you forget what you named it.

 

I wish Brandon Sanderson would write a short story about a sword like Nightblood that was ordered to bake cupcakes and would allow me to read a copy.

Edited by Ishar
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Granted. However, as a bane, The Nightwatcher erases your mind immediately after you finish.

 

 

 

 

I wish for a pet Voidbringer like Wyndle.

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Granted, but you get an actual Voidbringer, and it tries to kill you.

 

I wish to become a Bondsmith.

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Granted. You live your life in a forge, which I'm not saying is a bad thing, just not what you wanted.

I wish 2+2=5 was a correct algorithm.

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8 minutes ago, Gancho Libre said:

Granted. You live your life in a forge, which I'm not saying is a bad thing, just not what you wanted.

I wish 2+2=5 was a correct algorithm.

Not really sure what you mean by algorithm there... um...

Granted. Now 2+2=5. You failed math class though.

 

I wish I could fly.

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Isn't algorithm a synonym of equation? maybe not... I meant equation.

Granted. However, bursts of this strange buoyancy come randomly, as determined by your archnemesis.

I wish my archnemesis lived in the St. Louis Arch.

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38 minutes ago, Gancho Libre said:

Isn't algorithm a synonym of equation? maybe not... I meant equation.

Granted. However, bursts of this strange buoyancy come randomly, as determined by your archnemesis.

I wish my archnemesis lived in the St. Louis Arch.

Algorithm: a process or set of rules to be followed in calculations or other problem-solving operations, especially by a computer.

Equation: a statement that the values of two mathematical expressions are equal (indicated by the sign =).

Granted but now you live there too. 

I wish for stamina

Edited by VeilSpren
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dangit. I thought I was smart.

Granted, but you are glued in place, unable to move.

I wish I knew beforehand that an algorithm wasn't a synonym of an equation.

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Granted, you know they are different, but now you don’t know what either of them are.

 

I wish for a pet moose that does whatever I say.

 

Edit: should have wished I could delete the post above. Oh well. If anyone knows how please let me know

Edited by Ishar
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1 hour ago, Ishar said:

I wish for a pet moose that does whatever I say.

Granted.  Your new pet moose will do whatever you say, and will do nothing except what you tell it to do.  Including breathe.  And eat, and sleep, etc.  You spend years of your life telling the moose to inhale, then exhale, then eat this, then drink that, so on and so forth, until you lose all patience.  ...The moose venison turns out quite good, actually. (I'm so sorry.)

I call upon the Nightwatcher to fulfill my boon: I wish for a jet-pack.

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Granted, but you can’t figure out how to power it.

I wish my pet moose to be alive again.

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1 hour ago, Ishar said:

Granted, but you can’t figure out how to power it.

I wish my pet moose to be alive again.

NO NOT THE MOOSE!

Your moose is alive again, and it lives for the average life span of a moose. However, you don’t want it to die at that time. You make it so that your moose has an extended lifespan, and you believe that this is all good. However, the years are actually being transferred from the person you care for the most at a given point. This damage is irreversible. When the love of your life dies from transferring years to your moose, you are very, very sad. You leave the moose in the wilderness, and let no one come close to your heart ever again. The years of your own life begin to transfer to the moose, and you die. The moose lives, though.

I wish to be able to get souvenirs from the Cosmere (Examples:  OMG look, it’s Veil’s trench coat! I’ve always wanted to see this— it’s Shai’s first stamp for soulstamping! And a feather from an Aviar! Wow!)

Edited by Ashspren
Typos. Need I say more?
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23 minutes ago, Ashspren said:

I wish to be able to get souvenirs from the Cosmere (Examples:  OMG look, it’s Veil’s trench coat! I’ve always wanted to see this— it’s Shai’s first stamp for soulstamping! And a feather from an Aviar! Wow!)

Granted! You get Tonk Fah's soiled underwear, Rock's shaving scum, and Wayne's lucky bowler hat. Your bane is that these are the only vestments you are allowed to wear for the rest of your days. 

Needless to say you are shunned by your fellow man, but there's always a rainbow right?

With a fake mustache forged from the shorn face of a horneater, a mighty pair of briefs soiled by one of the blackest of mortal souls, and a foldable hat that actually is quite dapper, you retire to the hills and focus on your poetry. 

A group of fishermen at the base of your hill give you all the fish guts and brown rice you require for sustenance, and all that is required of you is to compose sonnets in praise of the beauty of their womenfolk.

Truly you attain the high water mark of poetic brilliance, using your poetic genius to truthfully reveal the beauty of the souls and minds of this collection of hairy faced, bow-legged women.

Over the years your command of your art far outstrips the confines of mere mortal genius. As you feel the pale hand of death steal upon you, you compose your masterpiece, the culmination of the pent up anguish of a life of suffering for the sake of your art. As the final line of your poem is writ upon the page, the words begin to blaze forth in blinding golden light. You feel your form joining with this light and in one transcendent moment the entirety of creation is revealed, your mind, soul and body are one with the Universe.You feel your essence being pulled upwards, ever upwards until you find your mind spread out, expansive yet whole.

When the villagers learn of your death, they mourn for an entire month. A mighty heap of fish-guts and brown rice is burned nightly. As the smoke drifts up from your memorial offering, the villagers glance up and see a new constellation in the night sky. To their red-rimmed eyes, clouded with tears, this constellation looks like a mustachioed man, wearing only underwear and a bowler hat.

 

I wish that my cat didn't yell at me to get treats in the morning.

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Granted! 

Now, it mews in the middle of the night!

I wish for a cookie....

Edited by The Hope of Elantris
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Granted, TUBA gives you a cookie, which is Certified Non-Hemalurgic.  Your bane is that you can no longer make or buy cookies.  You have to rely on others for the cookie fix.

I wish that I was done packing.

 

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Granted in the next 2 hours, but you forget your phone charger.

I wish I had a mustache as beautiful as Kidpen’s. 

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Granted, but it is on the wrong side of your head.

I wish to have a pet mistwraith.

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Granted you have a mistwraith, but it is as large as this one and very difficult to control

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I wish superman and batman to be the same person 

Edited by Skip Hates Dragons
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Granted. They both become the same person. By which of course, I mean they combine to become the super powerful Super Bat! This Super Bat unfortunately likes dark places, and destroys the sun in an attempt to get what it wants. This kills everything, including the Super Bat.


I wish for a hemalurgic beaver.

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Granted, it has one spike, which was made by killing you and stealing your intelligence 

I wish to be eaten by a kandra 

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