Jump to content

Long Game 73: The Forgotten Coup


Sart

Recommended Posts

Thanks for running this game, Sart. It was fun, and I don't regret jumping in despite burnout from AG7. I had good memories from MR3 that I didn't want to disturb, and I'm happy to say I have some good ones from this game too :)

I also appreciated Wyrm's permission to borrow Wyatt in order to play a traumatised veteran from first Nebrask, though I apologise for not RPing as much as I had initially planned, particularly with Striker. Was also fun joining Alv in a game again!

Devo, it was a good game, and maybe someday things will align and we really will be on the same team (please, Village, please, Village...)

Burnt, enjoyed our PM even if we were both kinda dead :P

After this game - I'm glad I backed down on Araris, and feel a little regret for not listening to my gut on Striker, though my gut has betrayed me before (et tu, Wyrm?) and I've never dared to trust it since - I feel like I've got a better handle on identifying Village Araris now, since I've done that thrice. At the same time, I feel like saying this puts a target on my back in any game with Evil Araris, and also is just begging RNGesus to make me Evil with Araris some day :P Ah, well.

Nice working with you again, Dark Bro ;) And great working with you, Araris. I was joking in a few OOG DMs that you must be Evil since we seldom worked together without bickering in past SE games, much less applied the same reasoning on each other! 

I feel like this game on my part was a case in point of what Wyrm and I always say - dying isn't the problem. Dying meaningfully for your team is. I wouldn't say my death was pivotal but I think it helped give Araris a nudge in the necessary direction, which was good, since I might've mucked things up more while alive. The Laidback!Kas thing was a wash by N4 or N5, but to be fair, I'd expected to get NKed by that point because of my early votes on the Connie and TUO trains, so I figured I might as well go all out and help where I could, to try to leave the Village in a better position when I died.

...As that turned out, it took a while.

Have some RP too that I'll probably drop if I have the time. Good game everyone, excellent job to Team Rithmatist, and you did well, Forgotten! Bamboozled me quite a few times.

P.S. I got a chuckle over the 2 Chalk mystery - basically, I was preparing to set up LG74, and was in the middle of the work week from hell. The spreadsheet hasn't been updated on the inventory front at all, and I didn't track Gears' claims, and in retrospect, maybe I was better off not even showing the inventory column :P 

Edited to add: Oof. Nice working with you as well, @Archer :P I admit I paranoided about you the cycle I died in my PM with Araris, but glad to see we were still the same team after all.

Edited by Kasimir
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Shimamura Hougetsu had still not become used to Adachi—No, Sakura’s absence. It’d been three years since she’d departed for the American Isles to undergo Rithmatic training at one of their prestigious academies. Three years Hougetsu had spent by her lonesome, with the only traces of her spirited lover being the trinkets they’d gathered from years spent together and the young girl they had adopted two years before she’d left.

The large home they’d worked so hard to come by felt empty. Hougetsu’s footsteps and humming echoed off its walls and corners. She kept the small garden out front ornately manicured, hiding the ugly interior—herself. She felt empty. She’d grown so used to Sakura always being by her side, that with her no longer here, her life had grown bland and colorless.

Against her best wishes, Hougetsu often found herself jumping in excitement at any knock on the front door. Her heart would begin to beat faster, praying that against all odds, her wife would return home. Her heart was often disappointed.

Nevertheless, as she cleaned every corner of the solemn house, she still hoped.

—o—

Shimamura Yuu drew a Line of Vigor, aimed directly at the weak spot in her opponent's defense. How sloppy. She thought, laughing at her opponents sad attempt at an Eskridge Defense. Compared to her own Shoaff, it was like a hound at her heels. 

Yuu hoped that when she was finally able to follow her mother to America, she’d find better opponents. Surely she would, the Isles were known for their amazing Rithmatic schools, boasting eight large schools. Her home country, Japan, had two.

Nevertheless, her opponent's Line of Warding was breached. 

This would be her fourth consecutive victory at the tournament held in Kyoto every year. Yuu was considered a prodigy, just like her mother was. She had a natural talent for Rithmatics, but that could only take her so far. Her professor often told her, “In America, things will be different. You won’t be the only prodigy.”

Yuu hoped that was true, because fighting the same half-wit Rithmatist every year was getting repetitive. And so was her other mom’s constant complaints. 

Shimamura Hougetsu did not approve of Yuu’senthusiasm for Rithmatics. Her actions spoke louder than her words, however, as she still paid for the train fee from Tokyo to Kyoto every year. 

“Where’s your mother, Yuu?” Professor Takagachi asked, adjusting his glasses and grey bangs as he watched the girl walk away from her crying opponent. 

“Not here,” She replied matter-of-factly. Despite paying to bring Yuu here, her mother had stopped coming to her matches years ago. When it’d become apparent that regardless of whom she dueled, Yuu would win. “You know how she is, professor. Always saying, ‘You don’t need to follow after your mother!’”

He grumbled in something that could almost be called agreement and began to walk alongside her. Here we go again, she grimaced. Time for another one of his critic sessions. 

“Your nine-point was off,” He started, glancing at her. “The space between ellipses six and seven was too wide. If your opponent had been able to see it, you’d have been in his position in a matter of minutes.”

“It’s hard to take the criticism seriously,” She sighed, turning away and giving an off handed wave. “When none of my enemies ever take advantage of the things you point out. Are you sure you can’t convince my mother to let me go to America?”

The sounds of onlookers and paper-writers, hoping to get a peek at the sixteen-year old Rithmatic prodigy, covered up the annoyed grunt the professor gave in response. The man had long tried to persuade Shimamura to let her daughter attend one of the American universities, and each time he was given the same answer: ‘no.’

When the teacher and student broke out of the excited mass and into the fresh spring air, they hurried down the steps of the arena. It was always best to get away quickly from these events, or else Yuu would be bogged down with the reporters questions. And it wasn’t until she piled herself into the back seat of the professor’s car that he answered her with more than a grumble and a wave.

“You know I’ve tried, kid,” He said, starting the car—brought over from the American Isles. “But she has her reasons for not letting you go, you know. You’re mother doesn’t want you to leave, especially not when Sakura has yet to return.”

It’d been seven years since her second mother left for America. Seven years since Yuu had become fascinated with the one thing the woman she’d barely known left her. Rithmatics. Yuu had since spent five of those years dedicating her life to the Rithmatic arts, in a false hope that if she became good enough, she’d be able to travel east and prove her worth. And here she was, the best Rithmatist in Japan and no closer to leaving for America.

An hour or so later, the professor dropped her off at the station. It didn’t take Yuu long to find her mother. The women stood out everywhere she went, her hair a light brown against a sea of black. When she’d asked why her mother kept it dyed, the only response she received was; ‘She liked it this way.’

Yuu found it silly. Then again who was she to talk?

“How did it go?” The woman asked, bending down to grab her suitcase—similar to the one Yuu herself rolled behind her.

“Another win!” The girl replied, raising her fist anti-climatically. Her fake enthusiasm brought a slight grin to her mother’s face. She might not have approved of her endeavor in Rithmatics, but she did approve in comedy. “Though, is that really a surprise?”

“No… I suppose it’s not.” She mumbled.

—o—

When they finally got back to Tokyo, Yuu caught sight of a man hurriedly walking away from the front door of her home. She sprinted the last leg to her house, but by the time she got there, the man was too far gone. Shaking her head at the oddity, she walked past the small garden, the red, blue, and white flowers overshadowed by the now blooming sakura tree. 

She climbed up the last step and saw a letter resting on the doormat. It was addressed to her mother, the one in Japan at least. Yuu picked it up and slid open the door. Setting the letter down on the table in the awning, she hurried up to her room and began to settle back in. 

It wouldn’t be long before she’d have to start preparing for the next tournament, she wasn’t going to miss out on a chance to relax. Even for a moment.

—o—

Hougetsu sent down the letter with her name written on it in elaborately drawn kanji. She knew the handwriting as if it was her own, regardless that the last time she’d seen it was almost four years ago. When she’d last received a letter from her wife. 

That letter had detailed that Sakura had finally been able to head to Nebrask. That she’d won a tournament they called The Melee in America. It’d also said that she didn’t know when she was going to return, that she most likely wouldn’t be able to write letters every month anymore. It had turned out she hadn’t been able to write any at all. 

Yet, here this letter was. Hougetsu broke the wax seal, the same one they’d used to officiate their marriage, and opened the envelope.

As she read, tears began to flow, staining the dark ink.

—o—

Dear my beloved Hougetsu,

If you’re reading this, I am dead. Accused of a crime I did not commit, the soldiers I’ve fought alongside with for the past three years have executed me. Whether by lawful means or not, I do not know. They, however, are not to blame. No, my death is the work of the Forgotten. A group that infiltrated this camp in Nebrask. In our search to root them out, I committed grave sins. I sealed the fate of death to an innocent man, I failed to keep another from the same fate, and I stood by while a third was convicted wrongly. These missteps are what led to my orderly demise. At least these men have hopefully given me the mercy to deliver this letter. For that, I am grateful. 

I ask you one thing, dear: do not come for my body. You will not find it. It will most likely be buried deep in the forests of this cursed island, most likely overrun by the wild chalking which roam here. If, however, you do come. I ask that you do not hate these men. They are guilty of the same sins as I, and if you were to hate them, it’d be the same as hating me. I would regret that.

Just as I regret that I will leave you alone. That I will not see our daughter grow up. That I will not die in your arms, but to the threads of a noose. That I will not be able to hold you and tell you “I love you” when you look like you need to be told so. I regret that I will plague your memories when you should be looking towards the future with hope.

Though I regret these things, I do not regret leaving Japan for the American Isles, to fight in this war with hope to alleviate the suffering of this nation. I do not regret learning to be a Rithmatist, to create life with white dust scratched onto the earth. I do not regret meeting you, to fall in love with a girl who kept everyone at arm's length. 

And so, I ask you not to regret them either.

With love,
Your wife, Adachi
Shimamura Sakura

 

Edited by Ventyl
Link to comment
Share on other sites

This game was very fun. Thank you @Sart for running it! I greatly enjoyed my PM with @Kasimir, who also provided enough pressure on me to keep me engaged in the game later on.

I just skimmed the dead doc and apologize for any stress I caused during D8 with my very erratic voting and tinfoiling about Archer. I was sort of busy that day but also trying to skim over everything to make sure I’d accounted for the possibilities. I guess my motto is “act first, fix mistakes later”.

I’m not sure if I have too much to say about the rules or the distribution, since the game played itself out very nicely. I was getting a little paranoid at the end that an elim had started with Rainbow Chalk, which I think goes to show that the rules has enough flexibility to make it difficult to 100% mechanically solve the game. I’ll definitely be interested to play this ruleset again if Sart plans to GM it in the future.

Edited by Araris Valerian
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Servant of the Mad God watched as the last Forgotten fell apart, gathering up its stray Chalklings as it went. Perhaps he could fashion something from them, a companion of some sort. Some flavor of Faithful Hound, perhaps a... Friendly Shadow? Yes, wonderful. He began shaping the corpses he had gathered from the Forgotten, mixing them with madness and chalk dust. A hint of blood, a touch of bone, and it was done. A new pet, a twisted horror monster thing that ripped at the edges of reality. Beautiful.

He marched threw the gaps of reality, chasing the tether of Connection homewards. After a long, cold journey through the space between stars, he arrived. There was the Daughter, sitting in a field clinging to the Life she had forsaken. He let his Friendly Shadow run up to her, fondness etched into its eyes. Perhaps she would be horrified. Perhaps she would be pleased. He had made Life, after all. Horrific, monstrous Life, but Life nonetheless.


Kasimir's death was the downfall. Congrats to the elims, the Shadowblaze play was lovely. 

Now, I don't see an immediate mention of why I failed to grab Chalk D8. I am confused. Who LoV+-ed me? What happened? Actions are accounted for, yes? So how did it happen?

And now, quick responses to mentions of my name in the docs! [Future Gears here, not much to say...]

Quote

 

Future Gears! This is not a criticism about you. You’ve come so close, but why stop or go off on a different tangent? :/ I just want the village to winnnn bah -.-

I got there eventually. Besides, the Shadowblaze play did color my perceptions a tad. 

To the elims: You really should have killed me sooner. Me having chalk was apparently a curveball for some reason. Never depend on someone else's spreadsheet! 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Quote

On that note, elims is an anagram of slime, so I think we should kill people like they do on the Nickelodian Kids Choice Awards. 

Right, uh, forgot about this bit. Was going to edit it in, but this is from one of my group pms-

@Archer...

what do you mean "Like they do on the Nickelodian Kids Choice Awards." ? Because I was unaware that was something that happened? :P.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

57 minutes ago, StrikerEZ said:

I just want to say that I really had a blast playing this game. Even if I do wish I'd actually gotten a chance to use some of the items and stuff I'd hoarded up, it was really fun PM spidering and doing stuff like that. And while I can understand why everyone thought I was suspicious...I also want to know why people kept thinking I was suspicious. :P

You were kind of, helpful? Like, if we compare you to a strong village read like Devo, they're all tight lipped and wary whereas you were like, go team! Happy to help!! (That is honestly the thought process I went through. You'll note I didn't actually vote for you because of it, but I came closer to it than I'd like to admit.)

11 minutes ago, Gears said:

And now, quick responses to mentions of my name in the docs! [Future Gears here, not much to say...]

TUO called your ISO annoying in the dead doc. That's high praise

2 minutes ago, Illwei said:

On that note, elims is an anagram of slime, so I think we should kill people like they do on the Nickelodian Kids Choice Awards. 

what do you mean "Like they do on the Nickelodian Kids Choice Awards." ? Because I was unaware that was something that happened? :P.

To clarify, I wasn't condoning the deaths. I'm not a monster

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Alv, we didn't try to pass the SB to Archer because everyone would know Archer was evil when he wasn't able to teach anyone a specialisation and Books would have been implicated. It turned out not to matter who we gave it to because Ash got lucky and stole it first.

1 hour ago, Kasimir said:

Devo, it was a good game, and maybe someday things will align and we really will be on the same team (please, Village, please, Village...)

P.S. I got a chuckle over the 2 Chalk mystery - basically, I was preparing to set up LG74, and was in the middle of the work week from hell. The spreadsheet hasn't been updated on the inventory front at all, and I didn't track Gears' claims, and in retrospect, maybe I was better off not even showing the inventory column :P

It looks like we have been on the same team before; QF 29. The elims won that game without losing a single player.

I was not trying to lie when I said that you only had one chalk when you died. I had counted every entry in your spreadsheet, including the duplicate turns, and got the wrong number.

29 minutes ago, Gears said:

Kasimir's death was the downfall. Congrats to the elims, the Shadowblaze play was lovely. 

Now, I don't see an immediate mention of why I failed to grab Chalk D8. I am confused. Who LoV+-ed me? What happened? Actions are accounted for, yes? So how did it happen?

We were afraid that Kas was going to scan me, which would have been bad since I submitted the kill that cycle. Killing you that turn wouldn't have been helpful since Ruby drawing a LoW would be confirmable without your scan.

Books did LoV+ you that turn. An unfortunate amount of planning took place in PMs instead of the doc because we procrastinated on picking actions/telling each other about them.

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

14 minutes ago, Devotary of Spontaneity said:

We were afraid that Kas was going to scan me, which would have been bad since I submitted the kill that cycle. Killing you that turn wouldn't have been helpful since Ruby drawing a LoW would be confirmable without your scan.

Actually, I wasn't going to scan you. I had considered putting in an order on Books, but eventually decided to go for Mist in the hopes discrepancies in Books's reporting would be cleared up by what we knew of the actions. Burnt's confusion just seemed too genuine to my gut to be Evil. Didn't turn out to matter, anyway. Or rather, it turned out okay I guess. I was paranoiding about Books because your reasoning on Books didn't seem quite right to me, so I was PMing Araris in the hopes that having been Evil with Books recently, he could help watch his former teammate.

16 minutes ago, Devotary of Spontaneity said:

It looks like we have been on the same team before; QF 29. The elims won that game without losing a single player.

I remember. It was a good game by my standards - we RPed so intensively and I didn't break character even once. I should've paired up with you, but didn't. Oh well.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

1 hour ago, Kasimir said:

though I apologise for not RPing as much as I had initially planned, particularly with Striker.

You definitely don't need to apologize for this. I definitely didn't RP as much as I'd been planning to either. :P

33 minutes ago, Archer said:

You were kind of, helpful? Like, if we compare you to a strong village read like Devo, they're all tight lipped and wary whereas you were like, go team! Happy to help!! (That is honestly the thought process I went through. You'll note I didn't actually vote for you because of it, but I came closer to it than I'd like to admit.)

Helpful by default? Almost? I guess I did end up helping by causing a whole lot of discussion around myself, which people could analyze or something. :P

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Thank you, Sart for running this game! I know I wasn't very active in this game and I apologise for that, had a bunch of irl dramas going on in my life keeping me busy and distracted. So I apologise if my lack of thread and pm presence was frustrating to anyone.  This was a cool game though, even though the chalklings never broke our defences i really liked that mechanic as it ate through village resources and time. I like

Link to comment
Share on other sites

THE FINAL NIGHT

They came for him. 

Duncan Kerr had not expected otherwise. The thought was strangely clinical; detached, almost. Since that first tour on Nebrask, he had been living on borrowed time.

The rest of his squad had fallen. Rlint, Dig, Matt, Aaron Roddy, Tavi, Aaron… Rlint, the brave officer who should’ve stayed home. Nebrask was no place for a non-Rithmatist, but Rlint had done his duty all the same. He’d carried the acid buckets and watched the rest of the squad. 

Rlint, betrayed and murdered. Dig, crumpled and bleeding where the shovel had struck him on the head, in the last hole he would ever dig. Brave Tavi, who’d said little, but had still fought, and it’d been Duncan’s hands which held the chalk, which drew the Lines of Silencing. It had been Duncan who kept watch, that night Matt was knifed by Kessen. It had been Duncan who had believed, who had wanted…

What had he wanted?

Belonging, he supposed. He was lost: a young Rithmatist freshly graduated from the Academy and sent to the frontlines on Nebrask. He was alone.

Wyatt had been a rock. He knew what to do; the squad deferred to him, except perhaps Matt. But Matt had been dead that first night, and the more Duncan turned the memories over in his head, examining them as though they were frozen in amber, the more he understood. Matt had been vocal. Matt had been a threat. And so Wyatt had removed him, to assume control of the squad.

And Duncan had fallen in.

What else would he have done? Matt had guided him, instructed him. Rlint had drank with him, some nights, as they held mugs of hot coffee against the chill of the incessant night rains. He took comfort from Dig’s presence. And Kessen had sparred with him, pitting his merciless quickness against the iron wall of Duncan’s defences.

But more than anything, Wyatt had taken him in. He’d seen a lost young Rithmatist, so green you could smell the sap, and he’d mentored Duncan. He’d taught Duncan a few quick and dirty ways for putting up defences, on nights when the wild chalklings swarmed and the most you could do was to redraw the same brutally simple lines again and again, rather than any of the more elegant strategies they’d taught in the Academy. He’d taught Duncan to get to his feet, stamp about, and walk a little on late watches, so he didn’t fall asleep. He’d taught Duncan aggression in duels, and Duncan had leaned so much on Wyatt’s dry but sharp sense of humour.

“Orders from the CO,” Wyatt had said. “Kingswright needs us to move against Dig tonight.” He was leaning on the doorframe. “Kessen, you good?”

Kessen nodded. Tory was silent, but indicated his readiness.

“Duncan?”

He liked Dig. 

But they were all looking at him, expectantly. Something in Duncan folded. Orders from the CO, Wyatt had said. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m good.”

Wyatt nodded, and some of the tension in the room seemed to relax, perceptibly. “Good man,” he said. “We’re doing what needs to be done. Enough men like you, and the chalklings will never breach this line until our replacements come.”

⤝⥁⤞

Kessen and Tory he had killed himself. Duncan did not think he regretted it. He’d snuck into the bunk, and then slit their throats in their sleep. 

Cold work, and he felt nothing as the blood spurted.

They were already dead, he told himself. They were taken. Forgotten.

But then he moved over to Wyatt, and he hesitated.

Wyatt opened his eyes. Charcoal blackness.

Wyatt smiled.

⤝⥁⤞

Disgraced. Fallen. Brother-killer.

Duncan knelt with his back to the wall and began to sketch the outlines of the Blad Defence. It was less prepared than he’d wanted it to be. He hadn’t had enough time, having dashed out an intricate chalkling with a Line of Making and sent it to spy on Tria Noche. It was a hummingbird, the sort he’d seen once on Nebrask.

It had been a clear morning, and the hummingbird was darting among the flowers. Chase had laughed when he’d pointed it out, and he couldn’t remember much of that day, but for the iridescent feathers of the hummingbird, pristine and untouched. Each feather seemed to glow in the various rainbow shades of the chalk, and he let out a long breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding as he set it free.

The hummingbird flapped its wings and departed.

He’d hesitated about that. Considered hiding again behind another Line of Forbiddance. If he used the time, he could make his defences as solid as an iron wall. Iron Duncan, they’d called him, back at the Academy, in his heyday.

He was so far from the Academy now, and so very lost. And his hands were shaking and he badly, badly wanted a drink. Wouldn’t get one, though. Not until the night was over.

“You knew this was coming,” Wyatt whispered. 

“I know,” Duncan said. “I know.”

It was a good place to stand his ground, with his back to the wall. At least his back was secure, and the Blad Defence let him take advantage of the natural barrier. He adapted it to account for that, concentrating his defences forward and to the sides.

“Risky,” Wyatt said. “I thought I taught you better than that.”

Duncan smiled. It was the wan ghost of a smile. He ached too much to feel it.

“You did,” he said. “I guess I’ve picked up some bad habits in the years.” 

Matt had taught him this one. It seemed fitting that Duncan fall back on what that man had taught him, this night.

“Oh,” Duncan breathed, quietly, as the Forgotten came for him.

He’d almost expected it. But he still felt the frisson of fear and surprise as Kaniae Moreau advanced on him, chalk in her hands.

“You know better, Duncan,” Wyatt said, sounding like the instructor and the mentor had once been. He clucked his tongue in disappointment. “Fear clouds the mind. Focus, or you’ll be too busy dying.”

Duncan took a deep breath and let it out. “I’ve been dying, anyway,” he said, shortly. “I’ve just been doing it the long way around.”

He knelt and pressed his chalk to the earth and drew.

He fought better: harder, quicker, more recklessly than he had in his life. And when the last of his defences were breached, and the wild chalklings swarmed him, Duncan thought he could see Wyatt looming over him, shaking his head.

“Disappointing,” said the Forgotten. “I expected more from you.”

⤝⥁⤞

Duncan Kerr opened his eyes.

The long grasses of Nebrask swayed in the gentle breeze, golden in the last of the light. The sky overhead was still a clear, bright blue, the sort that promised kind days and gentle nights, the kind to welcome home lost sons. And Duncan Kerr had been lost for a very long time.

He blinked, and the pain was gone. So was the fear. And the tiredness.

He looked at himself. His Rithmatist coat was cleaned, pressed, as though he had just left the barracks. His boots were worn, though, and his chalk was missing.

What had happened?

“You took your time,” said a voice, one Duncan had never expected to hear again. “Personally, I think it’s better this way.”

Matt held out a hand to him.

Duncan stared up at him, bewildered. It had been so long.

It had been so long.

He didn’t remember what it was like to live without that ache in his chest. Without the ever-present guilt. Without the shade of Wyatt, haunting him forever. Without the bloodstained knowledge of what he’d done on that first tour on Nebrask.

Matt frowned down at him. “You do remember me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I just…” Duncan hesitated. “I just…”

The Duncan he had been and the Duncan he was now collided and he couldn’t seem to pick his way between the two of them.

“You held up well,” Matt said, and something in Duncan’s heart cracked, and he was both: the raw recruit who had looked up to Matt and Wyatt, and the old Nebrask veteran who wanted nothing more than to atone for the mistakes of the past.

He was on his knees again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, hoarsely. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I let them use me, and I did it, I stood watch, I drew the lines, and—”

“You weren’t the only one taken in by Wyatt,” Matt said, and his firm hands closed on Duncan’s shoulders and drew him up to his feet. “Rlint was, too. He taught Wyatt the special lines he later passed on to you. Even Ronald believed him. And if not Wyatt, who would you have turned to? Kessen? Hardly any better.”

Matt clapped Duncan on the back. “You held out well,” he repeated. “You helped them. They’ll find the last of the Forgotten, and they’ll make it out alive. A squad for a squad. Strange how these things work, don’t they?”

Duncan squeezed his eyes tightly shut and could not speak.

“Yeah,” he whispered, at last. “Strange.”

The pain, the guilt, the shame, the trauma—he’d carried all of it for so long. It was a heavy stone weighted on his heart, and he did not know what to do with it. When he closed his eyes, he still saw Matt’s form, crumpled and bloodied. And when he opened them, the world blurred but Matt was alive.

“Come on,” Matt said. “Time to go.”

“Go?”

“Time to fall in.”

And then he saw them there, waiting at the edges of the field, where the swaying grasses gave way to the path to the barracks and the parade square. All of them, the old ones lost, and newer faces too, and Duncan struggled to draw breath.

Rlint, Aaron, Tavi, Aaron Roddy, but also TJ, Wei, and Frederick.

Frederick.

His brother smiled at him and waved.

The guilt was as a heavy stone. And for the first time in the long, painful march of the years, Duncan let it go. He set it aside and moved out from under it.

He took in a single breath. And then another. Marvelled at it, at how it felt. At how breath turned to the lightness of being. He’d forgotten what it was like to live without the guilt. Without the pain.

He was free.

“Come on, brother!” he thought he could hear Frederick calling out to him, across the rolling fields of gold.

Duncan laughed, and ran.

Duncan Kerr had been lost for a very long time.

He was coming home at long last.

⤝⥁⤞

finis

Edited by Kasimir
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Quote
On 1/28/2021 at 0:10 PM, Kasimir said:

I'm calling it before the game:

  • Mr Invisible becomes Visible (@Araris Valerian) and ends up pocketing the Village as an Elim. -Lolnope, he Village.
  • Mr Chaotic PM Spider ( @StrikerEZ ) ends up being the pool of intel and fueling the Elim war effort. -Lolnope, he Village, also not too much spidering.
  • Mr Analytical ( @Alvron ) ends up rumbling the Elims, if he isn't one. -Sorta maybe but he died too early IMO.
  • Laidback!Kas turns out to be affably Evil and backstabs just about everyone who PMs him on sheer principle. -Yeah, no :P 
  • Mr New Chaotic ( @Ashbringer ) ends up being misexed against someone who isn't Illwei and the other person explodes instead. -Definite nope on this, got NKed.
  • Miss Threadqueen ( @Burnt Spaghetti ) becomes Village Leader and throws everyone into disarray with the chaos. -Valiant effort in late game, but no.

Heron IndustriesTM does not bear responsibility for any course of action, intended or otherwise, predicated off this set of predictions. Any resemblance to persons living or soon-to-be-dead is strictly coincidental and if you don't believe us, we'll sue the ever-loving hell out of you. If you want your money back, go ask Wyrm because I sure as hell ain't giving refunds. 

And, ladies and gentlespren, my usual run of SE betting luck continues unperturbed since 2014! I give this another happy 0/6, thank goodness I didn't bet ten emerald broams this time, eh? :P 

Edited by Kasimir
Link to comment
Share on other sites

1 minute ago, Araris Valerian said:

I'm not actually sure if I avoided my typical playstyle at all this game. But I also think my reputation for lying low is overstated, and at the very least my post where I voted on Striker kept me in the spotlight for quite some time.

Well, and aside from that you've actually managed to pocket the entire village before, in LG72 by bussing two powerful teammates

Link to comment
Share on other sites

7 minutes ago, Araris Valerian said:

I'm not actually sure if I avoided my typical playstyle at all this game. But I also think my reputation for lying low is overstated, and at the very least my post where I voted on Striker kept me in the spotlight for quite some time.

I feel like you suffered a lot from your Evil rep this game, honestly. A lot of the indecision even after your actions seemed to be rep-based. I certainly know part of my thoughts were, "But this is Araris and we know he is Capable of Things according to others," before realising that rep should really not override the evidence.

Or rather, as a player who has suffered from my own rep-based issues, and known others with rep problems, I should know better than to let rep override the possibility space when considering evidence.

Edited by Kasimir
Link to comment
Share on other sites

2 minutes ago, Quintessential said:

Well, and aside from that you've actually managed to pocket the entire village before, in LG72 by bussing two powerful teammates

Yeah, that was sort of by accident though, and I felt pretty bad about being a primary cause of Ventyl's death that game. My village instincts kicked in before I realized that I was casting shade on the strongest member of my team. Also, a reputation for bussing isn't really a helpful thing to have regardless of which side of the game you are on. It makes it much harder to gain trust.

1 minute ago, Kasimir said:

I feel like you suffered a lot from your Evil rep this game, honestly. A lot of the indecision even after your actions seemed to be rep-based. I certainly know part of my thoughts were, "But this is Araris and we know he is Capable of Things according to others," before realising that rep should really not override the evidence.

Maybe. I feel like people were considering me as a potentially threatening elim without actually thinking about what elim!Araris would be most likely to do based on recent games (where I tied Lotus's streak of 4 elim games in a row). And I think the key thing here is distinguishing between poor play and elim play. Both can or do result in scenarios that are not great for the village, but elims (if they are playing well) do it much more intentionally.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

1 minute ago, Araris Valerian said:

Maybe. I feel like people were considering me as a potentially threatening elim without actually thinking about what elim!Araris would be most likely to do based on recent games (where I tied Lotus's streak of 4 elim games in a row). And I think the key thing here is distinguishing between poor play and elim play. Both can or do result in scenarios that are not great for the village, but elims (if they are playing well) do it much more intentionally.

I would say that I definitely don't expect poor Evil play out of you, yeah. Which is why your point about busing TUO was the first crack in my suspicion wall that got me to sit up and relook at you. Agreed telling the difference poor play versus Evil play is definitely key, IMO. I went over that about a few other players a couple of times.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

This game was really fun. Thanks @Sart for running it. My one-turn Shadowblaze plot definitely worked out since it got me access to the trusted villager planning PM, even though that didn't matter that much in the end.

~~~~~~~~

Min ran into a building and locked the door behind them. They had been found out and half the camp was searching for them. Min whispered to the Forgotten hiding on their skin

"I've fulfilled our contract. Do you have the Shadowblaze ready?" They hadn't managed to sabotage the camp enough to let any wild chalklings out, but they had acquired the army's plans, which should be enough, The Forgotten slithered across their face and into their eyes, and Min felt themselves lose control of their body. It was an odd, uncomfortable feeling, but it wasn't that unpleasant once they got used to it.

"It's on its way," The Forgotten said through Min's mouth. It crawled out of Min's eyes, down their body, and under the door, and returned with a Shadowblaze in a little chalk box with chalkling guards around it. Min was going to miss the Forgotten's perfect circles and lines, but having control over their own body while doing Rithmatics was worth it.

Min heard loud footsteps outside the door, then the sound of wood snapping. They grabbed the Shadowblaze - they could bond to it later - and broke the soulstamps tying the Cosmere to this world. They snapped back into the aluminum-insulated room filled with soulstamps that they had left several weeks ago. Now, as they had planned to several weeks earlier, they were ready to travel through the Cosmere.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

42 minutes ago, Kasimir said:

I would say that I definitely don't expect poor Evil play out of you, yeah. Which is why your point about busing TUO was the first crack in my suspicion wall that got me to sit up and relook at you. Agreed telling the difference poor play versus Evil play is definitely key, IMO. I went over that about a few other players a couple of times.

Of course, this thought process caused me to dismiss Lotus as village for voting on Archer. Sometimes the elims just don't act as you expect them to :P.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

1 minute ago, Araris Valerian said:

Of course, this thought process caused me to dismiss Lotus as village for voting on Archer. Sometimes the elims just don't act as you expect them to :P.

Yeah, my general conclusion from this game is my Evil meta is very off - what I look for isn't really how this gen plays. I agreed with your reasoning on Lotus, but it worked for Burnt, is the thing. Anyway, as I've said, not for the first time, my brain seems locked on LG15b and has stopped after that, so I'll need to either learn to finetune to new community meta/norms, or get washed out with the tide.

In more ways, I think, than just finding Team Evil.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

1 minute ago, Kasimir said:

Yeah, my general conclusion from this game is my Evil meta is very off - what I look for isn't really how this gen plays. I agreed with your reasoning on Lotus, but it worked for Burnt, is the thing. Anyway, as I've said, not for the first time, my brain seems locked on LG15b and has stopped after that, so I'll need to either learn to finetune to new community meta/norms, or get washed out with the tide.

In more ways, I think, than just finding Team Evil.

Or you can just accept that you're getting old and grouch at everyone for not playing like things used to be back in the day :P

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Guest
This topic is now closed to further replies.
  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.
×
×
  • Create New...