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Nightwatcher Boon/Bane (Game)


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You now live on Roshar, where seasons barely last a few weeks and change at random.

I wish to be a steel compounder with a bane that affects something besides my powers.

 

Granted.  You must spend one day out of each week as a goat.

 

I wish that I had an extremely nice, black, indestructible, self-washing, wrinkle-free suit with coattails, a tux shirt with cuff links, and those awesome black and white dress shoes that people used to wear. I can still wear it too, whenever I want.

Edited by Sirce Dawnwielder
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Granted but you can't take it off.

 

 

I am totally down with that.  It is always pressed and it looks amazing, so I am fine with that.

 

 

I wish that Redbird3000 has misspelled truthless as curseless.

 

Granted.  He also "misspelled" the rest of your curse as: "Granted, but the curseless stone shamans have bound you to Urithiru and you cannot leave.

 

I wish for Brandon to find a drought of the elixir of immortality.  He can not die and until the Cosmere is complete.  He also still writes good and his books don't take to long to write.  And we (including me) can all read them.

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Granted. This fansite ceases to exist, and any attempt to restart anything remotely like it likewise ceases to exist. If you try to talk to anyone about the books, you will lose your memory of anything Cosmere related until they leave your field of vision. Any text-based or phone-based communication causes penguins to die in the hundreds. Letters are the only thing safe anymore. Morse code works, actually. So do telegraphs. Smoke Signals get messed up by rouge winds and turn into the signal for "My Anaconda Don't"

I wish for two bags of grain to feed my family.

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Granted. This fansite ceases to exist, and any attempt to restart anything remotely like it likewise ceases to exist. If you try to talk to anyone about the books, you will lose your memory of anything Cosmere related until they leave your field of vision. Any text-based or phone-based communication causes penguins to die in the hundreds. Letters are the only thing safe anymore. Morse code works, actually. So do telegraphs. Smoke Signals get messed up by rouge winds and turn into the signal for "My Anaconda Don't"

That *sniff* was beautiful. I applaud thee.

Granted. You must eat it as cernals of grain. No bread or even mush.

I wish for Reeses Pieces for all mankind. (Anybody get the reference?)

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Granted. This fansite ceases to exist, and any attempt to restart anything remotely like it likewise ceases to exist. If you try to talk to anyone about the books, you will lose your memory of anything Cosmere related until they leave your field of vision. Any text-based or phone-based communication causes penguins to die in the hundreds. Letters are the only thing safe anymore. Morse code works, actually. So do telegraphs. Smoke Signals get messed up by rouge winds and turn into the signal for "My Anaconda Don't"

 

I'm not sure whether to upvote this for being a brilliantly terrible curse... or to downvote it because of how much it horrifies me. :o

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I get it. =)

I rain down enough Reese's pieces to coat the whole earth twenty feet deep. Crops are snuffed out. people suffocate by the billions. In an effort to survive, many coastal cities plow their pieces into the ocean. This, combined with all the pieces that already landed affects the make up if the ocean water drastically. Many marine species die out. But Some of the coastal cities manage to get some new crops planted. Farther island, things are more dire. Most crops and livestock were buried. There's plenty of food, but it's all Reese's pieces. Scurvy becomes a leading cause of death for those who survived the initial candy storm. Humanity survives with fewer than a hundred thousand of its previous population of 7 billion.

I wish for some pancakes

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Granted. They are pancakes made from the wheat flour found on the planet of YAAZHDFHEDHJHJFN. There, the wheat are mighty warriors, proud and strong. It took the equivalent of the combined Earth armies to take even one down to make your pancakes. 3,000,000 people fought that one lone private in the wheat army. Less than 7 came back alive. However, you wanted your pancakes. So everything's okay right.

Granted. This fansite ceases to exist, and any attempt to restart anything remotely like it likewise ceases to exist. If you try to talk to anyone about the books, you will lose your memory of anything Cosmere related until they leave your field of vision. Any text-based or phone-based communication causes penguins to die in the hundreds. OLetters are the only thing safe anymore. Morse code works, actually. So do telegraphs. Smoke Signals get messed up by rouge winds and turn into the signal for "My Anaconda Don't".

Also I have clearly seen a master at work:)

I wish that the Uncharted movie will be good

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Granted. Each curse you cast upon someone else is cast upon yourself.

 

I wish that I had a legitimate longbow with arrows that are all fitted to me, draw weight, length, material, everything. I can still shoot it and I have a place to shoot close by and away from people so I don't accidentally hit anybody.

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Granted. Each curse you cast upon someone else is cast upon yourself.

 

I wish that I had a legitimate longbow with arrows that are all fitted to me, draw weight, length, material, everything. I can still shoot it and I have a place to shoot close by and away from people so I don't accidentally hit anybody.

Granted, but before you can do all of that you have to read EVERY. SINGLE. Part of the dictionary. Copyright, page numbers, EVERYTHING. Have fun with that.

 

I wish for the amazing ability to conjure up books of my choice out of thin air.

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Granted, but before you can do all of that you have to read EVERY. SINGLE. Part of the dictionary. Copyright, page numbers, EVERYTHING. Have fun with that.

That was pretty good.

I wish for the amazing ability to conjure up books of my choice out of thin air.

Granted. But only thin air, extremely thin air. You must be at an elevation of at least 25,000 feet to summon books.

I wish that Brandon wrote a lengthy book saga set in a world that the Shard of Sarcasm invested.

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Granted. He wins first place for most delicous pig, in a contest between it and a frog.

I wish I had time to play all my video games I own but haven't beaten.

You are now Returned, and the only people with breath on your planet are people you don't even know scattered across the world. Every breath you consume will spawn yet another breath on a random stranger.

And of course, you Returned, so you forget which games you've beaten already and have to do them all. Plus you're legally dead and thus have no identification papers to get around with. You have a small breath stock barely enough to last until you figure that out.

I wish for some easy supply of steel to fuel the steel compounding I got from my last wish, again with the bane not affecting my powers (so I'll still have full powers but my life will just royally suck in a different area).

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Granted. You become severely, catastrophically, chronically near-sighted, and every time you put on a pair of glasses it shatters in your face, with the force of ten Dromedary Camel farts (the beefy kind).

 

I wish for a real-life Easy button.

 

Granted. You can never again go within 10 miles of staples.

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You are granted Eternal Waking when you sleep. Thankfully, this version isn't truly eternal, so you'll eventually wake up for real.

Or will you?

I dunno, that's how Eternal Waking works.

Also, your feet become cinderblocks and your hands become pit vipers. 

 

I wish for the ability to choose the manner of my own death. 

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Granted, but your body temperature fluctuates more than other people's. When you are in cold or hot temperatures you are even more hot and more cold then everybody else feels.

I wish that Brandon would commission the best artists and painters in the world to make the most amazing scenes from his books into glorious paintings that are massive and incredible. I also would like a curse that doesn't hamper people from enjoying my wish.

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