My solo indie game just reached the 10000 wishlists last week (10484 to be exact). I never thought I could reach that number on my own without a proper marketing team, budget or big following.
I'd like to share with you what worked and didn't in the hopes it can be helpful to you too.
Disclaimer: I did sign with a publisher two months ago, and while they are already working on marketing stuff, nothing has been published yet. Those numbers are 100% from my own "marketing" efforts. There are people way better at this than me! I'm just sharing my experience here and I'll let you judge if it's helpful. Some things that did not work with me might work with others (and vice versa)!
Let's sort what worked out the best for me. Steam Events > Influencers > Reddit > Twitter > Devlogs (I can't put image on this subreddit, but you can take a look at my wishlist graph with key notes on my original free patreon post)
It might sound obvious, but take the time to check your wishlists regularly, especially whenever you're trying to give visibility to the game with a post/video/announcement/mail. It will allow you to know what works and doesn't. I usually check out youtube and twitch for gameplay videos or press articles whenever there's a bump while I'm not in an event or did not post anything.
Keep posting stuff on social networks. I know it takes time for a small reward, but it's good to have those regular wishlists. It also shows development is alive and you never know when it will reach an influencer or press. When I stopped sharing my stuff for a while, wishlists completely dropped, I was even loosing some everyday! Reddit is harsh, but very rewarding.
I publish devlogs on my youtube channel. I got ~200 wishlist from more than 100k views that took me weeks of work. I don't think publishing devlogs is an efficient way to promote your game, UNLESS you go viral or that your videos also target players by being more accessible without too much technical stuff (mine are definitely targeting game devs for now). I'm only speculating here, but I think game developers are mostly interested in learning from your journey than actually wishlisting/playing your game compared to players which results in less wishlists. So do it only if it makes you happy and you want to share your journey (and be careful not to overwork while doing it)!
Influencers are great for 3 reasons:

1. They give your game visibility.
   
2. They give you feedback to make your game better.
   
3. They are usually keen to do it for free to help small indie devs.
   

Build yourself a press list: a list of press and influencer that might be interested in playing your game. Find their mails online, on their website, channel page or social networks. When you have something very interesting to show them (a new demo, event or announce) send them all a mail (but don´t spam them)!
Here are two accounts you should follow to get tips about how to properly reach to influencers (and other game marketing in general): Clemmy and Wanderbot (subscribe to their newsletters!)
Events are huge for wishlists. It's easy and it does not take time to submit and they are usually free. But there are two big issues with events:

1. You have to find them.

The best free place to find most events is on the HTMAG discord created by Chris (@AdventureMtn). There's also this amazing calendar with all the events (thanks to u/mreliptik for sharing this with me)!

1. You have to be accepted.

You need a demo, quality marketing assets to share and a good steam page. Again, Chris has some awesome tutorials (free and paid) to get a great steam page up. Consider supporting him if his tutorials helped you!
WARNING Do not submit your game to the steam next fest too soon like I did. You want to submit as late as possible, ideally just before your release. Each game gets one shot at the steam next fest, and the more wishlists you have going in, the more wishlists you'll get. I made that mistake because I thought I would release the game 2 months later (lol).
On a side note, you will have tons of wishlist deletions. Don't worry about it, that's perfectly normal (I won't lie, the first 1000 deletions still hit me hard though).
I think the best time to create your steam page is as soon you have a small trailer, screenshots and interesting description that do not look like a prototype full of placeholders. The sooner you have it, the sooner you start collecting wishlists! With the steam page also comes the whole steam community package, which is a plus to keep in touch with people who like your game. I don't really see any disadvantage in having a steam page early, but you might want to plan the communication around the page release to maximize visibility right away. Do not release it without telling anyone! When you demo is out, you can update your page and announce it everywhere too (try to give the exclusivity to a big showcase if you can!).
Things that did not work for me: devlogs, replying to influencers asking for games on twitter, using those spammy hashtags to promote your game (#wishlistwednesday etc...), posting uninteresting stuff about the game developement EVERY day, reposting the same content, posting on the popular subreddits, sharing my game on those "share your work" channel on discord servers, paid ads and plenty of other little things I wasted my time on because I was desperate to get more wishlists.
I hope this was was a nice read! Just to make this clear, this is my experience and it might work very differently for different type of games and game developers. If you'd like to try the game for yourself, you can play the demo on steam. And if you'd like to keep following my journey, you'll find all my links/socials/newslettepatreon stuff here.
Don't hesitate if you have questions, I'll do my best to find time and reply!

[INDEX]
I banked the fire and stared into the golden eyes of Beatale before I crept into my makeshift tent.
I still had my auric vision running and couldn’t help but notice the thin silver cord that ran from me to Horse. Firming up my aura, I reached out with my hand and grabbed it. I could feel the nearly imperceptible vibration between my fingers as I used my mind to probe at the thread. I could feel a bright spark of intellect, a light at the end of a tunnel. Pushing with my mind, I slid down the thread until the spark grew larger and eventually filled my inner vision with a hazy white light. Horsey thoughts nudged at me curiously.
I slid into the haze and immediately lost all sense of direction. If it wasn’t for the silver thread, I’d have no idea how to exit this shifting white fog. Horsey thoughts got stronger as I followed the thread while the haze thinned and cleared to reveal an endless prairie of green grass. I found myself standing before a naked man wearing a horse mask and I stared in shock. It was obviously me wearing a cheap costume horse mask — there was no mistaking my tattoos.
“What did you expect?” Horse neighed at me. “I am you and you are me and we are all together. Goo goo ga joob.”
Horse made a shooing motion with his hands and I accelerated backwards through the white haze and slammed into my own body with a gasp. I stared at the tarp overhead for a long minute, processing this new revelation. Horse was a part of me, a piece of my spirit. Whatever psychic stuff I did with that silver cord lead me into a house of mirrors where I got to look at myself pretending to be a horse. I can’t even deal with that right now.
Rolling into my blankets, I dropped off to sleep.
*Ding*
-=- - Welcome to the Dreamworld - Included in the Psychic Skills pack, the Inner Sanctum is your psychic domain. It is the mental fortress that you must secure and maintain to defend against psychic and spiritual assaults. All of your neurosis and fears are symbolised in this realm and must be defeated or subjugated before you can become master of the domain. Good luck. -=-
I banished the pop-up and looked around. I knew I was asleep, but everything was just as real as when I was awake. I was breathing, I could feel the floor under my feet, and if it weren’t for the pop-up, I would have sworn I had been teleported. The room I was in resembled an oversized luxury prison cell, maybe a thirty foot cube. No windows. Rough stone walls with thick mortar. Large brass wall sconces were set directly into the stone and suffused the room with a warm, golden light provided by glowing rocks. The stone floor had colourful Persian rugs tastefully placed. A high plaster ceiling was painted with a rendition of Michelangelo’s ‘Creation of Adam’, depicting me as both Adam and God.
There was a comfy sofa in front of a large screen television that hung from one wall and an ornate grandfather clock ticked loudly in the corner. It was currently 10:08 PM. Another wall was a floor to ceiling bookshelf, stuffed with books of varying sizes. The third wall was covered with pictures and I could see at a glance that they were images from my life. The fourth wall had a thick riveted steel door on the right side, a full sized mirror on the left, and a computer workstation in the middle.
The picture wall was my first target. A few were quite large, nearly life sized, while others were tiny prints no larger than the palm of my hand. Scenes of my life were displayed in each one. The largest was me riding Horse with a shit-scared expression, shooting at a pack of wolves. Others were smaller, each with different frames. Some ornate gold or silver, others plain wood, a few wrapped in briars or barbed wire. Nanny Ramsey holding me as a young child. My dog Jean with a red ball in his mouth. My parents, screaming at me. I turned my attention to the books. Books are safe. Books don’t judge you.
The sweet, musty scent of a used book store filled my nostrils as I drew close to the honey coloured shelves. Hundreds of volumes filled the wall from floor to ceiling, with a ladder that could be rolled along a rail to access the top. I smiled at the sight. I had always wanted a library like this. I pulled a book at random and read the title, “Confused Fantasies about Joseph Harris, part XXIV of the Middle School Years”.
I slid the book back onto the shelf. Let’s see what’s on TV.
The remote was a slim, futuristic looking affair with a minimum of buttons. I pointed it at the television and moments later the huge screen came to life and presented me with a simple menu for movies, divided into six categories: Happy, Surprised, Afraid, Disgusted, Angry, and Sad. I scrolled through the offerings for a minute, reading the titles and reviews about the movies of my life. It really bothered me that there were so few selections in the Happy section.
The number of Sad movies increased by one.
I walked over to the mirror and noticed there was a small sticky note pasted to it. “Astral Realm. Experienced users only.” I shoved the note in my pocket and stared at my image. Sturdy black boots, black denim jeans and shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons, deep brown gun belt slung at my hip, red bandanna and black felt hat. All I needed was a pencil moustache and I would look like the stereotypical villain in any spaghetti western. At that very moment I decided to grow out a goatee. I’d rather be mistaken for a bad guy than a victim.
So how does this astral realm thing work?
The mirror appeared to be nothing more than a mirror. It was cold, smooth glass surrounded by a wrought iron frame, and reflected my image. I didn’t necessarily want to go walking into danger, but I wanted to know how it worked. I pushed and prodded the glass in frustration until I noticed my image grinning at me. I jumped back in surprise and it doubled over in silent laughter.
“Hilarious, dude. You got me,” I huffed. “So how do I get in?”
My mirror-self tipped his hat and stepped to side.
I reached up to the mirror again and my hand passed through, vanishing as if cut off. Okay, just a quick peek and we’ll explore the rest of the room. I stepped through and the world shifted around me. I was standing back at the campsite. My body was insubstantial as a ghost and the tarp was a wisp of substance running straight through me. Non living things don’t seem to have much presence in this realm. Glancing down, I saw my sleeping body rolled up in the blankets, a thin silver thread running from it to me, and another thread running to Horse.
Looking around, I surveyed the campsite. My astral vision seemed to be on and had an unlimited range. I could see the life all around me, the distant forest was a sea of greenish-gold, grasses and brush nearby glowed with spectral light. Tiny ghost insects scurried while ghost mice nibbled at whatever ghost mice nibble on. Ghost seeds and ghost insects, I suppose. I turned my attention overhead and gaped at the sight of a monstrous serpentine spirit flying through the inky void. I dropped back through the tent and rolled inside my body. That was plenty enough for now.
I rolled through the mirror and landed flat on my back, staring at the fresco on the ceiling. Vinnie-God winked at me and Vinnie-Adam grinned. Climbing to my knees, I brushed non-existent dust from my trousers and watched mirror-me doubled over in soundless laughter.
“Hey, laughing-boy!” I yelled at him. “You’re like the guardian or something, right? You got it covered?”
Mirror-me stood and saluted with a smile, then gave me two thumbs up. A moment later, his face took on a serious expression and he wriggled his right hand in the ‘maybe’ motion. Then he pointed at me, tapped his wrist, and then a finger to his head.
It all depends on how fast I learn stuff, I guess.
Two thumbs up and a winning smile reflected back to me.
A large cork board was mounted to the wall over the computer and a small note was pinned to it. “Note to self: Don’t fuck with the Elvish womens.”
The computer screen featured a screensaver of me as Vitruvian Man doing callisthenics over the words ‘HumanOS’. I tapped the spacebar and was rewarded with the sound of powerful fans kicking to life as the computer emerged from sleep mode and prompted me for a password. Should I assume it’s the same as the password on the computer I pawned in my previous life?
Password: *******esi
I was rewarded with a sweet R&M desktop and a couple of icons. System, NeuralNet, My-Tunes, My-Movies, My-Office.
System was just what I expected, lots of .dna files and other confusing scariness that allowed me to tweak my physical body and mental state. My-Tunes was a collection of every song I’d ever heard and My-Movies was a collection of every movie I’d ever seen. Not that I’m complaining, but it would have been nice to have “My-Games” so I could play RDR. My-Office was a clone of the popular software by a similar name. I have no idea what I’ll ever need a spreadsheet for in this world.
NuralNet opened up a search engine called Me-Seeks, featuring a familiar blue guy.
I typed in “beer” and several thousand results were displayed, anything I’d ever read, heard, or watched about beer, including how to make it. This right here made the price of admission totally worth it, access to an exact copy of everything I’d ever read, and I was a voracious reader. Sadly, most of the stuff I read was futurology — solar panels, electronics, biotech advancements, quantum computing. The material for steam engines, blacksmithing, farming and the like, were slim pickings. That’s okay though, I could still reproduce the Gutenberg press, the cotton gin, simple internal combustion engines, and basic batteries along with some sketchy knowledge of metal alloys, acids, bases, and other things I had read over the years. All that wasted time watching “How Things Work” was finally going to pay off. I copied a few likely money makers to My-Office, saved the file, and exported to my Notes, just in case they didn’t exist on Aerth.
A popup covered the screen.
📱 [New Upgrade Available!] 📱
🎉 Enhance Your Experience with the Latest HumanOS Features! 🎉
🌟 Features Include:

• 🧠 Memory Booster: Increase your Memory for smoother multitasking and improved performance.
• 🔋 Energy Optimizer: Extend your battery life with advanced power-saving techniques.
• 🛠️ Utility Upgrades: Access new apps and utilities to enhance your daily life and adventures.
• 🗺️ Advanced Mapping: Never get lost again with enhanced GPS and location tracking.

🔥 Special Offer: Only 2000 credits for version 2.0 or 5000 credits for version 3.0! 🔥
[Upgrade Now ✅] [Remind Me Later ❌]
Apparently I could upgrade myself, which reduced the cost of using my Utilities while providing other minor benefits. My Utilities would level up as I used them, which would increase their battery cost, so if I didn’t keep pace with an update to the OS they could become prohibitively expensive to operate.
Stupid pay-to-win world.
So, do I pay 2000 credits for version 2.0 or 5000 credits for version 3.0?
I selected version 3.0 and klicked [Install]. After watching it download the update, it popped up another screen that asked if I wanted to update now, or wait until Midnight for the mandatory update.
I selected [No] just as the grandfather clock chimed 10:30 PM. I wondered if time ran slower in here, because it seemed like I had spent a lot more time on the computer than 15 minutes. Walking over to the imposing steel door, I noticed a bronze key with a thin chain in the lock. There was another sticky note on the door. “Subconscious. Please keep the key with you at all times.”
That’s not scary at all, is it?
I unlocked the door with a loud clunk and pulled it open to reveal a bedroom straight out of some royal castle. I could tell immediately that it had seen better days. The tapestries on the wall were frayed and fading. The canopy over the bed had a few holes in it. A thin layer of dust covered the mantle of a small fireplace set into the wall. There was a window letting in bright sunlight and I moved over to look outside.
I was on the third floor of a keep surrounded by the walls and turrets of a modest castle. A castle that had fallen into serious disrepair. Did this represent the state of my inner mind? One tower was shattered and the curtain wall under it damaged. The lower bailey was full of litter. I could see a few soldiers walking around the allure, keeping watch.
I have people in my subconscious?
Someone behind me cleared their throat.
Whirling, I discovered a familiar old man standing in the door of the bedroom. What was left of his hair formed a white halo around his head, his face was unshaven and covered with several days of growth. He was dressed like a poor and tattered manservant, but carried himself with a dignified air.
“Woodhouse?”
“It’s nice to see the master at home,” He said with a proper English accent. “There are many matters that require the master’s attention.”
“Uh, sure,” I said, hanging the key around my neck and tucking it in my shirt. “And who are you again?”
“Your personal manservant, of course” he said with a slight bow. Walking over to the steel door, he pulled it closed and it locked with a solid thunk. “Master should always keep his inner sanctum closed. One never knows if something nasty will creep in.”
“Thank you, uh, Woodhouse. I’ll remember that,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “So what needs tending and how do things work around here?”
He smiled and beckoned me with a white gloved hand. “If master would be so kind as to follow me, I’ll introduce him to the staff and explain the duties and obligations of his domain.”
I’m 99.9% certain that everyone here is just me wearing a mask, so I shrugged and followed Woodhouse out of the bedroom and into the rest of my subconscious.
Five minutes later I was on the ground floor and seated on a shabby throne with the cast of a popular —and probably very copyright protected— animation in front of me. Woodhouse was the head butler and my personal manservant. Pam was the cook and demanded that I start importing sugar and alcohol before she was shushed by Woodhouse. Carol was a maid. Krieger was chancellor and Cyril was the steward. Archer and Lana were in charge of security. Ray was the marshal in charge of everything from the stables to the blacksmith.
I stared in disbelief at the motley crew kneeling in front of me. No wonder my inner mind was in such shambles. I was overcome with an irrational sense of anger at myself.
“Arright, listen up,” I barked, my voice echoing around the room. “I swear to God that I will fire every single one of you and hire circus clowns to replace you if you keep fucking things up. No joke. Circus clowns, got it?”
I ran a hand over my face as Ray pissed himself. “The only reason I’m not putting a boot in your asses right now is because I realise that you’re aspects of me, and the people you represent are pretty damn good at their jobs when they give enough of a shit to actually do them. As a team, you’re dysfunctionally fantastic and always seem to come out ahead no matter the odds.”
Heaving a sigh, I continued. “Things have changed and I need to get my shit together. I’m going to need every one of you to pull your weight and help me help you. Get back to your duties, I’ll meet you one on one later.”
My subconscious caretakers scurried out of the room.
“I’ll have one of the maids tend to the piss,” Woodhouse assured me.
“Never mind that,” I snapped. “I honestly had no idea my mind was such a shit show. I’m very disappointed in myself.” I pictured the Angry, Sad, and Disgusted counters on my personal movies clicking up. “Show me what needs to be done and let’s get started.”
During Woodhouse’s walking tour, everything clicked into place. This was some altered version of Bodiam castle, a location that was on my bucket list of places to visit. The royal council room, located behind the throne room, contained a “living” tapestry on the wall that showed the castle and surrounding land in real time. The castle was located in the middle of a small lake, and a single wood bridge led to the mainland. A small town surrounded the lake and a wall encircled the town. Outside the wall, the land was an irregular patchwork of forest and field, with a stinking swamp to the south. The entire “kingdom” was maybe ten miles across, surrounded by impassable mountains with innumerable creeks that fed the lake which drained into the southern swamp.
“Zombies are the problem, sir.” Woodhouse said, as I surveyed the living tapestry of my mental domain.
“Zombies?” I prompted.
“Yes sir, Zombies” Woodhouse continued. “Nasty bitey things that come in from the mountains and harass the peasants. They’ve gotten especially worse over the last few months. The soldiers do what they can, but they seem to have lost all motivation. Probably because they haven’t been paid.”
“And who pays them?”
“Typically chancellor Krieger is in charge of financial matters, although Steward Figgis has taken over the duty, sir.”
“Then let’s make Figgis our first stop.”
“Very good, sir.”
The office of the steward was run by Cyril Figgis, who managed the kingdom in my absence. It was overflowing with paperwork and charts, books and scrolls piled high on every flat surface. Cyril was desperately attempting to tidy things when Woodhouse and I walked in.
“Yo..you..your majesty,” Cyril stuttered, bowing low. Scrolls fell from his overloaded arms, spilling across the floor. He dropped to his knees and scrambled to gather them up. “I didn’t expect you to visit so soon. Please forgive the mess, housekeeping has been slacking…”
This was the guy who ran things while I was conscious.
“Shut up, Cyril” I said. “You’re responsible for everything in this office. That includes keeping it organised and tidy.”
“Y..yes milord.”
“It’s my understanding that you’re in charge of making sure everyone gets paid. So why aren’t we paying people?” I asked.
“We’re nearly out of Fuks, your majesty. I’ve been saving them for emergencies.”
“Fucks?”
“Fuks,” Cyril explained, pushing a pile of books off a large chest and opening it. Reaching inside he pulled out two small bags and emptied them on top of his cluttered desk. “Gold and Silver Fuks, the currency of the kingdom. I can’t maintain the kingdom when I have no Fuks to give.”
Behold the subconscious kingdom of Vincent J. Carter, it runs on Fuks.
“So how do I get more fuks?” I asked, examining one of the coins. It had an image of me on one side and symbol on the other that could be interpreted as “peace among worlds”.
“You kill the zombies, your majesty.”
Of course I do.
Woodhouse and I left Cyril’s office and headed towards the office of the chancellor where Krieger worked. It seemed that Cyril took over financial matters when Krieger became erratic and proposed luring all the zombies into the city and setting it on fire. Not sure how that corresponds to my own self-destructive behaviour, but I’ve had some dark thoughts over the last couple of months and I’m sure they’re reflected here.
Krieger’s office was much neater in comparison to Cyril’s, but it wasn’t by much. Shelves lined the walls and were filled with an array of questionable items, including a still snapping zombie head in a jar. While the office of the chancellor was supposed to be in charge of financial matters, it looked more like a dodgy rummage sale.
Krieger was launching sword blades at a pig carcass when we walked in.
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, standing in the doorway.
“Hm? Oh, your majesty!” he said, turning around and bowing deeply. “I’m testing a new invention. It’s a spring loaded hilt that shoots sword blades. Very useful for our soldiers.”
“Stupidest idea ever,” I snapped. “I hate everything about it.”
“Okay,” Krieger said, tossing the hilt into a nearby pile of junk. “But don’t blame me when you need to shoot a sword at a zombie and don’t have one.”
“So why aren’t you managing the financial affairs? Collecting taxes, paying people, stuff like that?”
“Because the population has declined so much none of that matters?”
“What do you mean?”
“Wellll, the population represents things you care about,” Krieger said, going into lecture mode. “And the zombies and other monsters are real or imagined problems in your way. Since you don’t care about too many things the population has shrunk to just what’s needed to keep everything running on the bare minimum of fuks. And since you don’t seem to have any long or short term goals, there’s no need to kill off the zombies and get more fuks. Everything is fine just the way it is.”
“No, it’s not Krieger” I said, grinding my teeth. “My mind is in a shambles. It’s a joke. I want it fixed. No, I want it better than fixed. I want it improved.”
“Oh! I’ve got just the thing for that!” He said, digging around in his pockets, “It’s a spring-loaded hilt that shoots swords!”
Pam and Cheryl were hanging out a gallery window jeering at Archer and Lana sparring in the inner courtyard.
“What the hell are you doing!” I snapped
They whirled in surprise and then dropped into deep curtseys.
“Your majesty!”
I took a deep breath, trying to regain my centre. “Get to work cleaning this place up. Find a room, clean it, and move on to the next. Start with my bedroom, then the throne room and the council chamber, then everything else.”
Cheryl spoke up. “Can’t do it. We got no fuks to clean with.”
“You need fuks to clean?”
“Gotta buy stuff,” Pam said. “Cleaning supplies, food. You wanna eat, you’re gonna have to spend some fuks.”
“Talk to Cyril,” I ordered. “Tell him I said to get you supplied.”
They ran off in the direction of the stewards office.
I watched Archer and Lana bashing each other enthusiastically through the window.
Several minutes later the sparring couple stopped and bowed when Woodhouse and I stepped into the inner courtyard.
“Your majesty”
“My liege”
“Enough,” I said. “If you have enough energy to smash each other, you have enough energy to smash zombies. Tell me what I need to know so I can start gathering fuks.”
Archer shrugged and spoke first. “You just kill the zombies and other monsters. They drop fuks.”
“Anything special about the zombies?” I asked. “Are they fast? Do people get turned into zombies when bitten?”
“Nope,” Lana said, resting her wooden sword on her shoulder. “Most of them are slow shamblers and just need a good wack to the head to kill them.”
“Some are special,” Archer interjected. “Occasionally you’ll have some fast ones, or those that need holy water to kill. They’re just bad memories, figments of your personality that need to be eliminated. Some are worse than others.”
“The zombies are bad memories?” I asked, imagining all the bad memories that I had.
“Memories, thoughts, insecurities, metaphysical mumbo-jumbo,” Woodhouse supplied. “They are endless, but constant vigilance can keep them under control.”
“So let’s get started,” I said. “Lead the way.”
Lana and Archer lead me up to the parapet over the front gate where I looked over at the dozens of zombies milling about aimlessly in front of the entrance to my mind. Pulling out my gun, I began to pick them off, easy as shooting fish in a barrel. The crack of my spell pistol attracted more zombies and I dispatched them with ease until no more were left around the gate. As I fired each shot I could feel some sort of existential energy flowing from me, draining some hidden reserve.
“Gather up the Fuks,” I commanded. “And Lana?”
“Mi’lord?”
“There’s no excuse for this. From now on, I expect the walls to be clear of all zombies.”
“Yes mi’lord,” she said, giving me a small bow.
Turning to Archer, I shook my head. “You’re obviously my personal narcissism, so just try to stay out of Lana’s way, or better yet - try to kill more zombies than her. If you think you can.”
Archer scoffed. “No contest. I took top marks in sharpshooting.”
“That means I should expect to see results by tomorrow. I look forward to it.”
Archer looked panicked for a moment then smiled. “Sure, I can give you results.”
Turning back to Woodhouse I said “Show me what else need attending.”
Woodhouse led me through the town that represented my mind, pointing out each business that had fallen into disrepair, suggested others that needed improvements, and additions that would benefit me. In the distance, I could hear Lana and Archer shooting at the crowd of zombies and with each echoing shot I felt a tiny bit better about everything.
[INDEX]

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Ceele strolled through the damp grass along the outskirts of the village, a spring in her step and the dwindling scent of dew following behind. It rained yesterday, which had prevented her from going out to gather supplies, but the mild morning air had been accommodating enough for her to get an early start and make the trip. She was glad she did.
One hand clutched her new prize to her chest, while the other held a fraying wicker basket filled with herbs and some edible roots she gathered by exploring the forbidden forest. Despite her reservations regarding where she chose to go, her excitement now lingered like a steady thrum of shifting stones, giving her energy that defied how long she had been walking. She all but pranced beneath the burgeoning night's sky, gleefully toeing the line between the dirt pathways of the settlement’s outskirts and the trees of unclaimed land. Normally, her path back home would never be so close to the village, but she was far too gleeful to mind. She had come back with a sense of fulfillment and a rare object—or if not rare, then hopefully of great value.
It was hard to point to any one specific reason that she came across the orb. There had always been a ‘draw’ during her travels, urging her that there was something missing in her life, yet it was no more than a mild whim to walk in a particular direction more often than not. Once she reached this part of the continent, she was compelled to wander, never quite able to explain why she obliged the sensation besides having nowhere in particular to be. Even when she finally settled somewhere, it stayed in the back of her mind, suggesting that she was close to whatever would make the pit of vacancy go away. She ignored it, purposefully distracting herself with her work and responsibilities, yet that could only last so long. When she awoke this morning with plans to resupply, and all of her newfound spots had been picked clean by wildlife, she turned to the depths of the forest where she was warned not to tread. It was all too easy to follow the subtle tug in her chest through the loose justification.
The urge to be somewhere grew unbearable with every step closer to the forbidden area. That sense of having a direction she needed to go became stronger and stronger, until she was well into land long since forgotten. She came across an overgrown depression in the hillside, and was entranced by the foreboding image. Something about the cave just…beckoned her. She was far too weak to resist.
Horrible tales echoed into her ears as whispers of fearful voices, warning and unending, yet but a dull drone compared to her hammering heart. She navigated the trees and brushed aside unkempt vines, stepping into the cavern with a mix of expectation and trepidation, then laid eyes on the small obsidian stone perched atop a crumbling pillar. The feeling of needing to travel somewhere…stopped.
The pull was absent, which was why she held the orb close instead of placing it into her basket. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she recalled overheard tales of hidden gemstones, deep cavernous expanses, and the untold terrors that lay within. Comparing the scenes of those fables to the cave seemed foolish now; it wasn’t some torturous chamber, but a dusty depression in a small hillside. Besides, anything this pretty was sure to be worth a fair sum, and she needed the coin. Yet the thought of selling the precious-looking stone was a conflicting one. She shook off the thought for the time being, turning her attention back towards where she was going.
Shadows stretched and faded as the moon stole the last of the illumination afforded by the sun, replacing it with a calming glow that caressed the log frames and thatched roofs of various homes. A star-filled sky came into prominence as clouds lazily drifted away, revealing the promise of tomorrow’s fair-weathered arrival. It was too late for anyone to notice her treading on the edge of their town while lost in thought, but she was still careful not to get too close to the houses or livestock pens where people might be finishing the evening’s duties. It was best that they didn’t see her returning from a place she was told not to go. Still, her feet carried her near the dwellings as she took in the noises.
Ceele enjoyed the comforting chatter from a distance. Indistinct words floated freely. Meaningless gossip and warm goodbyes were exchanged between friends and family. Places of various occupations were dark and quiet, only the faint contented mewls and clucks of livestock coming from their pastures as they ate what was recently put out for them. No metal rang throughout the streets as it was struck inside a centralized smithy, no heated bartering came from an overactive trade house, and the crunch of dirt beneath transport or merchant wagons was absent, replaced by the rapid steps and yelps of children rushing to their homes before it got too dark out. It was all just gentle conversation and life drifting through the wind, taking the rustle of leaves along for the ride, just so she could hear it. Tranquil, in a word.
She wondered what it would sound like if she were yet one more voice within that crowd of kindness. Would it be loud like the larger cities? Would she struggle to maintain a thought with so many stray topics floating about? Would she once more yearn for the peace and quiet of solitude that she had grown used to, or would she immerse herself, free of judgment and laughing like the carefree young that scampered about? Did thinking about it even matter?
Her smile fell from its genuine intensity—still worn, but not as fully. She glanced downward as her stride lost its jubilant bounce, her tail losing its sway as her grey eyes examined the dry black scales that adorned her body against her wishes. It was the ugly hue of tarnished oil, unlike the skin of any other kobold she had met. Some had reds or greens, yellows or whites, while most were between a sandy tan or earthen brown. The rainbow of peculiarities was displayed by the lucky few, and she was one of them…
…Yet she was different in the worst of ways.
Even if she would rather any other colour, she supposed it was that way to make sure no one came near without accepting the unspoken risks. That was what her mother always said, anyway, though the woman hardly feared much of anything in her old age, and dedicated herself to giving her offspring all the love she had left to give—a perk of living a full life. She would always help her daughter bathe, complimenting the colour of what most were unnerved by. That was more than a decade ago now, however. Ceele’s parents had passed on while she was still young, and she took to travelling not long after, working at what she could to afford what little she needed. Never for long, though—just enough to get to the next town between where she was and where the urge to go lay. There were certainly moments she looked back on fondly, but the journey had taken its toll.
The crude material of her ‘dress’ was coarse, old, and heavy, but it helped ease the worst of spring's chill—even if it was more of a modified sack than proper attire. Still, it was all she had after the last of her clothing fell apart, and giving the repurposed material a name that reminded her of something else made it less uncomfortable to wear, somehow. It would have to do until she could afford a pitying seamstress or the like. Until then, she would pretend she didn’t look so desperate, even if it only highlighted her status and made finding work difficult.
But it did. The dishevelled garment was a far cry from the wonderful silks or breathtaking designs she had seen some women wear, harshly marking the distinction between herself and those of affluence. The clothing of commoners was also a leap in style and quality, so she couldn't say her attire was up to even modest standards. No matter how hard she squinted, and no matter how much she fantasized otherwise, she seemed every bit like the vagrant she was, down to the soil embedded in the curvature of her claws and the stains throughout her fabrics. She looked like a serf from the more oppressed lands, yet they too wore crude cottons, which said a lot about how she appeared to those who had never lived a life of servitude. It was obvious that she was an outsider. That she didn't belong amongst the rest. It made changing something as simple as her appearance all the more difficult; prospective employment always saw a young woman who seemed more likely to steal or swindle than make an honest day’s living.
There was one good twist of fate in recent memory, however, and she came upon the result of it after leaving the slowing bustle of the village behind. Her steps carried her through a small copse of trees on the outskirts of town, the small shaded path leading to the back of a large, carefully pruned clearing, a scattering of fruit-bearing trees providing even darker shadow than the already dim moonlight. She skirted along the aging fence on the border that kept predatory animals away, carefully hoisting herself over the barrier where a large vegetable garden she was responsible for tending resided. If one were to tell her she would be living in such an area several months ago, she would have smiled politely and walked away, yet here she was.
A modest, warmly lit home occupied the middle of the clearing, sitting front and centre when one approached from the village path. It looked quite cozy, surrounded by berry bushes that were just beginning to bloom as the last dregs of winter slipped away. A front patio displayed a nice table and well-loved chairs, the rustic appearance only adding to its charm as a place where friends and family spent the warm summer afternoons. A smithy to the left of the house functioned as an additional heated building during the colder months, but usually served as a storefront and to muffle the sounds of hammered iron, though that had become less common. An old stable was nearby, close enough to be accessible, but not so close as to disturb the once occupying animals with sounds of iron craft. It hadn't seen a horse in quite some time, apparently, so it was mostly a workshop for whatever tasks didn’t require fire or metal.
There was a long history attached to each little detail—from the scuffs along the wooden siding to the depressions in the ground where daily routine wore into the earth. Every fault suffered throughout the years was matched by a thousand quirks that made it feel welcoming, like the house itself was merely waiting for the next friendly face with one of its own. She knew that the inside of each building would look just as cared for.
Her concern lay outside, however. It was a comparatively miniscule space just barely visible through the sheltering trees, true, yet it was where her efforts turned into tangible results, and where a stranger’s trust was painstakingly repaid. Once overgrown grass had been laboriously trimmed, the weeds plucked and disposed of, and now nothing distracted from what she could claim she had done.
The small plots of rock-bordered soil had little buds of growing vegetables, a sense of pride never failing to bloom in her breast with the knowledge that it would be barren without her touch. When her troubles and concerns grew heavy, and fears of the future or spectres of the past loomed over her head, she could look at where she had brought life where it wouldn't otherwise be. Some days, that was enough. She smiled in appreciation at what was admittedly amateur work, the night’s sky helping to hide any inevitably made mistakes.
She enjoyed the sight for a moment longer, then turned to walk towards a neglected old tool shed that was well out of sight within the trees, far away from whatever warmth and comfort the larger house offered to everyone and anyone. She put a hand on the degrading wood of the entryway, giving one last sad smile at the garden as she dismissed selfish thoughts of taking the eventual harvest for herself. A breath cleared the uncertainty from her voice, and she pushed open the door.
“I'm home!”
= = = = =
It took a while for Altier to adjust to his situation, and even once he accepted that his mana wasn't being siphoned, he was still reeling from confusion. He had spent centuries with every year passing by without his notice, yet now he was painfully aware of each creeping second languidly dragging on with the expediency of growing grass. It was as disorienting as it was painfully nostalgic.
Time was something he was never good with, and it only got worse as a dungeon. He'd get lost in creating rooms, corridors, creatures, and whatever else needed doing, only pausing to watch or listen to the few adventurers he became interested in. There was a stint where he spent what felt like hours agonizing over new abilities or options while he let the system manage things in the background, though he supposed it might have been much longer. So many wasted days, yet he still hadn't managed to try everything he had gained access to. Some abilities were simply too niche, came with concerning titles, or held descriptions that made him wary. Anything with ‘Decay’ in the name was instantly ignored—he didn't need more reasons to fear his affinity, and from the few he took the effort to read through, they were always vile.
But his existence for the moment was no longer like those endless stretches spent pondering the minutiae of what would help his adventurers grow stronger. Now, he could follow the rhythmic sounds of footsteps and steady breathing that set a calming pace. They were someone else's, yes, but they contextualized how easy it was to slip away without the subtle noises of life that he had long since surrendered to help his family. Of course, there were more differences that he noticed since being removed from his crumbling cavern, and his sight was the newest change.
He never gave much thought to how far he could see before. Why would he? As a man, his world extended as far as he could fathom, yet was also confined to the room where he spent his days, and as a dungeon… Well, who was he to consider distance when an event happening miles away could be seen with a flicker of thought? Nothing was too far when it was within his creation. Or his ‘body,’ he supposed. Sadly, his entire perception currently consisted of the small sphere of his obsidian core, and maybe a finger's length beyond it—which is to say, not much. He could make out the fine details in the dirty burlap he was held against, and how pale moonlight slowly took over the blurred reds of sunset, but hardly anything more. It was all just frosted colours after a certain point, and he found it infinitely frustrating. He just wanted to peer beyond the haze and scaly hand holding him to confirm that the sky he remembered was still there. Alas, the sunlight faded at too quick a pace, yet one oh so agonizingly slow.
The ensuing darkness gave him nothing to do but think about where he was, not that he had any ideas. He was too curious about why he wasn't dead to bother much with his blurry surroundings after the soft-spoken kobold abducted him, thus why he only belatedly noticed how limited his worldview had become. There might have been a forest beyond his cave, but the greens and browns were gone, and the sounds of steps through brush was replaced by the distant din of a village. An idle curiosity pondered if he would recognize any descents of his ‘family tradition’ adventurers there, but he was being carried by what most considered a monster, so likely not.
That short musing was short-lived, however, and he brought his focus back to the matter at hand. He supposed he was being taken somewhere specific, but that was an obvious deduction, considering he was taken at all. The why of the matter was less so; for what purpose would someone want a Decay-aligned core? He hadn’t heard of them before…well, before he was made into one, but he couldn’t imagine many uses. Maybe he was being sold? His…kidnapper? His sudden companion seemed rather pleased by their discovery of him, so that might be the case, and it was morbidly amusing to think that a frail, sickly young man might one day become a coveted, highly valuable item. His abduction could also be a part of some cult’s nefarious activities, but he didn't want to think about that too hard. He experienced enough odd ceremonies from the adventurers who took the time to tell him their tales.
Either way, he wasn't in the dungeon anymore, and he couldn’t see where he was going. He tried to query his menu to glean an answer, but was met with a scrambled mess he suspected read ‘Synchronizing…’ and little else. It gave him a headache trying to make sense of it—which he didn't know was possible anymore—so he dismissed the text and distracted himself with blurs from whatever diluted senses he still had. There wasn’t much to observe other than the constant footfalls and the flicker of shadows on his companion’s burlap garment. They might have travelled through brush again, but it was too dark to really say for certain.
Eventually, there was something new. He heard an old latch rattle and rusted door hinges groan, then a shuddered clack that confirmed he was now in a building. His kobold acquaintance gently cooed at something before moving about the nearly pitch-black space, finally setting him down on a… He wasn’t sure what it was, besides old and wooden.
[D$#@m$n E@$*ded]
The headache from before became a blinding migraine that suffocated him under a flash-flood of suffering. Seconds passed in abject torture until it blissfully abated, the mental blinks clearing his mind enough to notice a change in his existence. Specifically, he could actually see something besides the rotting wood grain he was placed on top of.
And it wasn’t anything promising…
He was more or less in the centre of a room no bigger than twelve paces by maybe ten. Not a terrible size for a space, but it was clearly never meant to house someone. His resting place looked about as neglected as he surmised; it was an upturned feeding trough, he supposed, since calling it a table seemed too generous. The surface was rife with holes and degraded iron, so it was something that once saw regular use before being replaced and tossed into storage, never to see the light of day again.
Actually, most things in the room seemed to fit that description. The window shutters were installed with metal hinges that had since rusted them closed, the misalignment letting in a draft—and whatever weather was outside as well, most likely. A poorly carved bowl sat on the floor, the stain beneath it hinting that it collected any rainwater that slowly dripped from the leaky roof. The wooden floorboards looked old, splintered, and in need of maintenance or replacement, though an effort had been put into abrading it somewhat smooth lately.
A tiny and decrepit fireplace was to the left of the door upon entry, its brickwork slowly crumbling due to weathering and age. It was sized more for keeping the room warm during mild days than to keep away the frigid chill of night. Its base only held cold ashes, but there was a collection of deadwood and scraps nearby, so that would probably be rectified soon. A small wheel-less cart had been turned into storage against the opposite wall, some herbs and other foraged items stowed away in it for future use. Various things he remembered seeing his father and brothers use in the fields were scattered about, too. It was nostalgic to see, honestly, even if his recollections had blurred over time.
Bundles of tattered blankets formed a pair of nests in the far corner, the smaller of the two had a pile of rough plants nearby. That answered his silent pondering of the room's purpose somewhat, though he was pretty sure the bedding material was salvaged, and there didn’t seem to be any hay or padding underneath whoever was sleeping on it. He didn’t know what to think about the weeds; they were purposefully placed there, and whoever did so had taken the time to wash them, but it was still strange.
He couldn’t see a doorway besides the entrance, yet most of the hallmarks of residency were put where space could be afforded, however crude. All in all, he surmised that it was a gardening shed of sorts, and his new acquaintance apparently lived here. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when a creature he had only read about came into his dungeon, but it wasn't being brought to a rundown and decrepit shack for unknown purposes.
Even if he had been raised by parents who made a humble living at the best of times, and they had emptied their coffers for unsuccessful attempts to ease his ailments, his acquaintance's living space made him uncomfortable. His family's house was never anything fancy, true—it shared some of the worn qualities that inevitably gathered over the years—but it was never this bad. His home benefited from a father's touch keeping it robust and a mother’s love keeping it warm, whereas this place had seen neither in quite some time. Oh, there was evidence that such was once the case; a wall was adorned with carefully made and well-spaced hangers for the various gardening tools, though the implements themselves had become a victim of neglect. That being said, he could make out the fresh soil and recent scratches exposing furrows of silver, so they were seeing use again.
A scrape and clack of flint drew his attention to his kobold companion. They were kneeling in front of the fireplace, methodically sparking life back into a dead flame with twigs and dried leaves. A slow, steady breath into the reddened base illuminated its face with a dull orange glow, revealing its weary visage and the permanently etched smile that rested beneath its cold grey eyes. The black-scaled kobold looked tired, if he were to guess—much the same as Altier did when he spent countless days watching everyone living a life he could never have through the mossy window of his bedroom. He was probably humanizing it too much. Still, he was surprised by the muted pang of sympathy, and how he would feel much more than blithe curiosity after spending so much time alone in the crumbling crypt of his own making.
A mental breath cycled through him as he looked at the odds and ends yet to be observed. Hardly anything else was of note—everything else was degraded and neglected, too. He did notice a nest of blankets move though, which was as good a distraction as any. The answer to his previous ‘pile of weeds’ inquiry poked a tiny nose from a crease in the fabric, then rapidly pawed at the blankets to dig itself out. Altier stared at the creature in both recognition and confusion.
It was a rabbit…or at least it looked like one, assuming you were to also describe a porcupine and a sea urchin as well. He was pretty sure he didn’t remember any hare that had jagged metal-tipped fur, nor that had said fur arranged into a row of spiked horns that flowed down its spine, terminating at a large fluffy tail, which was equally bizarre to see. The whole of its coat could double as a weapon, with semi-sharp barbs sticking off seemingly at random, yet he remembered an adventurer saying most animals used that sort of thing defensively. He increased his focus as he tried to make sense of the odd creature. Surely he would have heard about—
[Hoppittttttt#%%÷ — Ferro-o-orabbit-it (Ma%$le)
Abil—]
[Null]
[Er0Rrrrrrrr—]
[Und#$f—]
He bit back the pain caused by the sudden intrusion of his menu, blanking out the text and mentally retreating to hide from the source. Did he just inspect something? How? Shouldn’t his entire…‘framework,’ was it…? Yes, that was it. Shouldn’t that have been corrupted? Why could he see the creature’s information when his entire framework was damaged? That was the first ability he lost, so why is it the first to be functional? How was it functional? Was it? It did just spit garbled text at him, but it was something, and that was more than he had gotten from it in a very long time. If it was somehow working—no matter how poorly—then that left the question of why he hadn't heard of anything called a ‘ferrorabbit’ before, assuming he read that correctly.
A soft thud vibrated the tro— table, startling him out of thought. He turned his attention to the button nose wiggling erratically at him, the short, stubby muzzle leading to surprisingly expressive and curious red eyes. Dull brown fur jutted off in random tufts and patches, changing to a darker tint on its paws and the upper half of its ears, while the tips of its spikes were a muted hue of iron. It still seemed just as soft as the less pointed variety he remembered, if a touch dirty. Upright ears twitched this way and that way as its head vigorously shook, eventually settling on pointing in his direction when it calmed down enough.
It was apparent that he had its undivided attention…for all of a few seconds. His scaly companion called something out in their foreign tongue, and whatever conclusion the pointy-furred animal came to, it seemed more interested in the kobold, parting from him after nudging his core with its nose.
[Cre-e-e—]
[Errrrrrr0r: Undefiiiiiiii—]
[Acceeeeep-t-t-t??]
[Yeeee— s s / Nnnnnnn—]
He winced at the intrusion, but the contents detracted from the pain. He couldn’t remember the system ever asking him a question without his explicit intent being involved. It wanted him to…accept something? Was it the system prompting him, or the animal? What was he to accept?
[Creatuuuuu—]
[Acce-e-e-%#@ed!]
…What?
= = = = =
“Hoppit, that's not food!” Ceele admonished half-heartedly, placing a larger branch on the burgeoning flame before she got to her feet. She wasn’t actually that worried; the stone was as big as his head, and she was pretty sure he couldn't bite into it. Hopefully. “Come here, momma has a treat for you!”
The ferrorabbit playfully bumped the gemstone and jumped off the low table, landing with a soft thud that belied how heavy he was for his tiny size. He wiggled in excitement, his ears flailing and releasing a slight clack whenever the two connected. It got even louder when she grabbed her basket and put away the useful herbs, taking out a specific item that she had gathered just for him. The little bun wasted no time in scurrying over and standing tall on his hind legs to judge if the offered plant was to his liking—and it was, based on how he dug in with enthusiasm. She stifled a laugh as she contentedly watched him nibble away on the treat, ignoring the guilt that came with knowing she couldn't afford proper vegetables for him. He had a hard life too, and it tore at her to have so little to give.
She came across Hoppit a year ago, during a storm that worsened while she was travelling between towns. The day had darkened to night in spite of it still being about noon, but the weather didn't care for how bright it was supposed to be. Wind and rain became a typhoon, forcing her to seek shelter in a thankfully abandoned den of what was probably a larger animal. She was fine with waiting out the squall, since the stone roof over her head was more than she usually had back then, but the sounds of dull bangs and thuds near her hideaway was followed by cries of animals yelping in pain. Curiosity won over reason, and she left the safety of her shelter to see what was causing the disturbance. Truthfully, she was hopeful that she'd come across scraps or the like, her hunger driving her forward, and she could always turn back if it seemed dangerous. Yet when she arrived at the source of the commotion, she found herself thinking of anything but food.
Two predators had fought over a small burrow, both trying to dig out a meal and taking offence to the other doing the same. What they didn’t know was that they were assaulting the home of ferrorabbits. Specifically, the home of an angry, protective, and well-fed mother that was keeping her newborns safe from the storm when predators decided to try their luck. From the scene Ceele came across, it was certainly obvious why most people dislike trying to hunt the creatures.
Sadly, the rabbit didn't survive an attack from two predators, but she did make their victory pyrrhic; neither could do much about their hunger with their bodies full of cuts and holes, and it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to blood loss or infection. The mother's sacrifice meant that the babies had avoided the imminent threat, but they were left unattended as a consequence, and it took an opportunistic bird swooping down to shake Ceele out of her shock. Despite her subsequent hurry, she only acted in time to save one of the orphaned young. The warren was new and barely dug out, which meant that it didn’t take much effort for the kits to be found—by both her and hungry maws. All she could do was scoop the ball of fluff into her arms and run back to the cave before anything else tried to eat it.
In retrospect, it was a stupid decision for a number of factors. She barely had the resources to supply herself, and an attempt to raise offspring of any type would only make the inevitable heartbreak worse. But when she saw how quiet and scared he was… How his tiny, shaking body calmed in her arms, those terrified red eyes seeking comfort… She should have just walked away when she knew there wasn’t going to be anything to fill her stomach. She should have put the baby animal down and let nature take its course…yet the preciously furry face stole her heart far too quickly for it to grow so cold. The next day was spent backtracking to the nearest town to get him something suitable to eat, which used most of her meagre savings. Still, it was worth every coin.
Hoppit had been accompanying her ever since. He grew quickly, transitioning from something she saved that stormy night into a presence she had grown to love like a child. The little lagomorph would bounce along beside her during her travels, then ride in her arms as he rested—though the latter happened with worrying frequency as of late. She hadn’t learned much about the springy herbivores, but she knew enough to say that he wasn't as big as he should be, nor was his fur as sharp. No matter how startled he was, his spiky coat never managed to do more than stiffen slightly, which was apparently a side effect of poor diet, according to snippets of conversation she had overheard on the topic. She wanted him to be healthy, but she didn't know what he needed. Not many farmers raised ferrorabbits, and those that did were far away, so she didn’t have anyone to ask what she should be doing. Her best course of action was to give him what little she had.
Ceele was well aware of how he would be better off on his own, but he followed her whenever she tried to set him free. Hoppit just kept launching into her arms and wiggling his ears, ecstatic that he was with her again, uncaring that food was scarce and that they spent most of their days travelling. No amount of cold nights spent bundling up under the tattered blankets she managed to find ever dampened his spirits, and he was content to eat the grass or flowers whenever he felt like it, oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t getting enough nutrition. He would dig and excitedly drag back oddities that he found, and the one time he found a plant that looked particularly good for him, he insisted that it be shared with her.
A black pit still lingered in her chest when she recalled how pleased he was while he munched on the rare vegetable he discovered, then how distressed he became when she wouldn’t have any as well. He bumped and nipped at her, all but begging her to eat. His ears pinned back against his head, his fur bristled in a way she hadn’t seen since. It was only when she took a small bite and let him inspect the new teeth marks that he seemed to calm down, but perhaps she had been looking too deep into the actions of her tiny friend. All she could say for certain was that he was scared she was going hungry.
A morbid thought wondered if his first mother had refused food shortly before being attacked, and he—as small and simple as he was—had connected the two events in his mind, making him absolutely terrified that something would happen if Ceele didn’t have something too. All of that fear, and desperation overwhelmed him, just because she was happier watching him eat. She was determined to erase that issue. She would find something that needed a worker and earn enough to feed them both. One day, she would be able to smile at how big and healthy her little fluffy boy had become, but until then, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think about how she was spending so much time growing vegetables and fruit that he couldn’t have…
Every morning was an exercise in tending to the gardens while actively shoving down images of a pleased ferrorabbit happily eating the results. That never went well; no matter how determined she was to complete her duties without a single selfish thought, most tasks were done while picturing his full belly and delighted bounces. There were a few weeks until the fastest of the crops would be ready for harvest, and Ceele would have to collect them while fighting the urge to bring back just a few for him.
She couldn’t, because she knew exactly how quickly that could escalate. It would start small—A vegetable here, a fruit there—but seeing Hoppit happy was one of the precious few good things she had in her life. Crossing the line would only become easier each time. They couldn’t risk losing their new home over greed, and she was already betraying the trust given to her by housing a wild animal, especially one known to be a pest for crops. She didn't want to know how angry it would make her benefactors if she was caught taking their vegetables for one.
No matter how tame and precious Hoppit was, and no matter how well he listened, they would only see him as the same creature that ruined harvests in droves. Thus was why she had to tell him to stay cooped up by himself while she was working or scavenging. And to her surprise, he did.
Honestly, she had made the initial request with the expectation of needing to carry him back into their home until he understood that she wasn’t leaving him forever. There wasn’t much she could do to stop the ferrorabbit from digging through the old wooden building if he wanted to get out. He wouldn’t need to damage anything either—a rotting board on the door only needed a little push to nudge it out of the way, and his natural curiosity made sure he was aware of it. But no, Hoppit was well-behaved as always, keeping hidden until she walked through the door, where he would leap from the shadows to personally show her how good he was and how he stayed put like she asked him to. It never stopped amazing her that he had such a surprising level of understanding despite being an animal, and that was to say nothing of how young he was.
All that intelligence, joy, and companionship he offered her…and yet the best she could give back to him was the weeds from the garden and the odd plant she found while scavenging…
Soft clacks of flicking ears dragged her from her pondering, her mind returning to the present. Hoppit finished his treat of the small plant, then bounced in place and scurried over to his bowl of water, perfectly happy to have eaten only that. He was so joyful with how little she provided, approaching every day of scarcity with the same enthusiasm she could never muster, as if certain that everything would be alright.
“It’s bedtime, Hoppit,” Ceele announced through a soft sigh, stoking the fire with enough branches to hopefully last the night. The ferrorabbit perked an ear in her direction, then sat on his haunches to extend the rest of himself up, his two little forepaws adorably held to his chest as he inspected the room like he always did. She smiled and made sure everything was stored away, then laid down on her bundle of blankets, covering herself with the warmest one. Hoppit bolted over to snuggle once he decided everything in the shed was up to his standards, throwing himself to the floor in a dramatic flop of comfort. Her quiet laughter subsided as they both settled in for the night, her tail completing the rabbit’s encompassing cuddle, but her eyes fell towards the obsidian orb on the table, her thoughts following suit.
It sat there, just as she left it, as benign as anything else ever placed atop the improvised furnishing. Yet there was a sense of ease and purpose as well. The old wooden trough seemed…important with its adornment firmly laid upon its surface, and she couldn’t puzzle out why. She was starting to doubt her earlier excitement.
Should she sell it? Would anyone know where it came from? Would anyone know what it was, or if it was worth anything? If she could get even a modest sum for it, she would be able to buy clothing, food, and new bedding. It would be easier to convince someone to give her work if she was dressed better and wasn’t so thin, and then she would have the income to slowly improve both of their lives. She could pay for a wandering merchant to ask a ferrorabbit rancher about the animal, even if it would take time to get back to her, or maybe she could hire a local if they needed to go near one for some reason. The cost didn’t matter to her as long as it happened.
But there was something else bothering her about the idea of selling the stone. She had travelled so far with a tug in her chest, only for the feeling of wanderlust to dissipate as soon as she held it. Was that a sign? She was never one for things like ‘fate,’ but a niggling doubt in her mind discouraged the idea of making a profit off her discovery. Even if what she could gain was so very tempting, and even if Hoppit would be happier if she did…
She tore her dampened eyes away and closed them, ignoring the burning trails running across her face. It would be another early morning, and she needed to sleep so she could take care of the garden. Decisions like this could wait. Once she had nothing else distracting her, and she had time to properly think about it, she would see how she felt about the stone.
Eventually, she dozed off with Hoppit pressed against her chest, and a longing in her heart.
Next
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A/N: Patreon and Ko-fi will be 1 chap ahead this time around, and I've set it so everything from the lowest tier up can read the newest trashfire! Anything above that is sheer show of love. Hope you enjoyed!

What I am about to explain was incredibly traumatizing and stressful for me, the entirety of the call including after the end of the call.
Here is the story: I get a call from a fake or spoofed number (I will call this phone ICE) that claims to be from an ICE (Immigration Customs Enforcement) office somewhere in Minneapolis. I personally freaked out because it was also named "Prison/ Jail". He asked first if I am speaking to (my real name) and states my real address (I didn't give any identifying information yet). The caller, who claims to be an officer, claims that I was involved in serious criminal activity including money laundering, drugs, and having a fake identity. Obviously, I am legally born in the United States and have never immigrated to the U.S. I was literally shaking during this entire call.
Then, I explicitly state that I haven't committed any of these crimes, and they say that it could be identity theft (which is real thing and happens everywhere). That what I thought it was at first. Either way, they told me to go to the real .gov website to read the documents and what laws I have violated. He also interrogated me with some other questions as if it was almost a real interrogation with actual law enforcement and that there was a real reason he was doing this. Then an hour into the call, another number (I will call this phone number SLPD) called me three times, and the person behind that spoofed number claimed to be the SL Police Department. The person speaking claimed to be the sergeant for the department, and would threaten to arrest me. First off, she was very rude, in which this would not be how a real police officer would act talking to someone for the first time. So I told the ICE person that there was another "agency" involved in the same case and here is where things start to get messy.
The ICE person claimed that she would threaten to arrest me and I was given two choices: either self surrender to fill out an immigration bond containing a certain amount of money (this is where the real purpose of the scam comes through).
I went with the second option since I didn't want to risk getting arrested and being put on records. In order to complete the immigration bond in such a tight time, I was forced to go to a store to purchase a couple gift cards, each worth a lot of money. While the cashiers were making weird looks at me, I was still forced to do the purchase anyway and lie to them I had to celebrate my family's birthday or something. I went to other stores to look around for gift cards (yes, it does seem very dumb, but at this time my adrenaline was very high and I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into). After all the purchasing the SLPD person claimed she would come to my apartment in Santa Cruz, but first off she doesn't even know the address of my place. The ICE person claimed that I was not allowed to use any sort of web browser, to make phone calls, or talk with others about this "investigation". Then this was where I realized where something was off and what real trouble I was getting into until the SLPD person "visited" my place.
They also told me my phone was being tracked, but it wasn't.
Then after I thought about what was going on, then I realized that ICE (nor any of the well known agencies) DOES NOT call you directly about being arrested and ask you for money over phone calls. Then I realized the stupid thing I did over the past few hours of the day. I also browsed over reddit and confirmed that people have had similar calls.
After having some real thoughts, this was my state:

• I have never felt so angry, out-of-place, and frustrated with wasting so much time for this non-sensical scam call and giving out my money for "compliance".
• My entire day was gone as I was initially planning to work on some final projects and work on some homework.
• Nearly half of my bank account was drained (Please don't ask me how much I gave out).
• As mad as I was, my parents were not proud of me at all.
• I am currently having a lot of bad afterthoughts and I cannot seem to focus on my schoolwork. I also need to deal with how to recover from the scam.
• Lastly, I have never felt so stupid falling for such a non-sensical act, where people claiming to be someone else are just trying to trick people into getting money, though a very (I mean very) elaborate process. I must say they did it well and can easily catch victims off guard.
• I don't know if my parents will ever have the same trust with me as they did before.

Some of my learning and what can be the takeaway

• Never Ever transfer money with a random person through a phone call, not even if they threaten you to. If they ask for money, it's an automatic scam.
• The ICE nor the SLPD (or any other police departments) will never call you and immediately threaten you with arrest. They first need to have a probable cause, and they sure would've had started an investigation way earlier in person.
• If you think you have ran into a person threatening you, just nicely tell them that you need to go to the bathroom. Then what you actually do is hang up and completely turn off your phone. Go on your parents' or friend's phone to call the real agency or other people you trust to see what's the real deal. If there's nothing from the real agency, it's a scam.
• I would highly suggest blocking the number the scammers call you through.
• I need to learn to be more skeptical for this situation and look out for any early signs of a scam or malicious intent.

However, one good thing was that my gift cards still had its full values, so I was able to freeze them. While I didn't really lose the money, it definitely costed me the time that it could have not went through.
I haven't fell for any other scams, ones that simply say that you have an arrest warrant or a charge on your bank card, but this one was so elaborately done and this caught me completely off guard.

Wiki Updates

• Added Switch, WiiU / Wii, 3DS / DS and Playstation sections to Homebrew.
  
• Added Virtual Reality and Game Save sections to Gaming.
  
• Added Dev Communities and Reverse Engineering sections to Dev Tools.
  
• Added Linux Communities section to Linux.
  
• Added Flights section to Travel.
  
• Organized the Maps section, and added multiple new subsections to it.
  
• Debloated Indexes, Multi-Tool, File Scanners, Archiving and Sheet Music sections.
  
• Re-added our Unsafe Sites Filter. This can be added to uBlock to stop anything in unsafe sites from loading in your browser.
  
• We compared FMHY to the badware filter list to make sure we didn't have anything on it, and we didn't.
  
• Added optional alternative logo to our website.
  

Stars Added ⭐

• Starred both squid.wtf and MP3 Daddy in Audio Ripping. Deezer ripping sites both capable of getting FLAC files.
  
• Starred Morphic in Online Chatbots. GPT4o powered search w/ no limits.
  
• Starred ROM Heaven in ROM sites. Badass new ROM site with single click DDL and a high quality UI.
  
• Starred All Things Linux in Linux Communities. Linux Discord server focused on helping others and learning.
  
• Starred Eaglercraft in Minecraft as it's started getting updates again.
  
• Starred CompactGUI in File Archivers. Very useful archiver with nice UI.
  
• Starred Spicetify in Spotify Adblockers. This has adblock plugins that work just as well as SpotX.
  
• Starred UI Revert Script in Reddit Tools. Restores Reddits 2023 UI.
  
• Starred Snaptick in Android To-Do Apps. Very feature-rich to-do app.
  
• Starred PurpleAdblock in Twitch Adblockers. Got a update recently and seems to be working again.
  
• Starred ImageGlass in Image Viewers. Popular lightweight image viewer with a nice UI.
  
• Starred Neal.fun in Fun Indexes. OG site with lots of fun games / experiments.
  
• Starred Pi-hole in DNS Adblockers as their lists are more updated than NextDNS.
  
• Starred ChatGPT in Online Chatbots as they're adding GPT4o to free tier.
  

Things Removed

• Removed both moo and media drives as neither work anymore.
  
• Removed The Movie Archive as its shutdown.
  
• Removed Subscene as they've closed.
  
• Removed nofetch as its been archived.
  
• Unstarred Bloxstrap as dev doesn't have time currently to keep it updated.
  
• Unstarred OlaMovies as the process to get to downloads is pretty awful. If you guys disagree let us know in comments and we can reconsider.
  
• Unstarred Androeed as they've started adding an annoying popup to new apps. We don't think it's malicious, but we also don't think its fair to keep a site doing this starred.
  
• Unstarred NextDNS as their filter lists include outdated, and even possibly malicious lists (like energized) which cause a bunch of issues, including fmhy.net getting blocked
  

Previous Update Threads

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Note - These update threads only contains major updates. If you're interested in seeing all minor changes you can follow our commits page on GitHub. Also keep in mind that this thread will be deleted and archived at the end of the month.

Finn Tresscoat, a 20-year-old with short dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a pale complexion, strolled down the sidewalk of his small town. He wore a light brown leather jacket over a black shirt, paired with black jeans and black-and-white sneakers.
As Finn ambled along, he glanced at the many shops lining the main road of the town's bustling center. He wasn't searching for anything in particular; he simply wanted to enjoy the rare day off from his job, one of the most perilous occupations in the United West (U.W.).
"Finn! Oh, Finn!"
Finn turned his head to the right and spotted Ms. Tori Elortor, or simply Ms. Tori as he called her. She was an older lady in her early fifties, though her youthful appearance often surprised the townsfolk. With long white hair cascading down her back, pale skin, and bright hazel eyes, she was a striking figure. Today, she wore a navy blue sundress over a pair of tight blue jeans and brown cowboy boots.
Ms. Tori, the local bakery owner, was considered quite attractive and often caught the eye of the younger men in town. Her curvaceous figure and active lifestyle, including regular yoga sessions in the park, only added to her allure. However, Finn saw her differently. Having known her since childhood and feeling like part of her family, he saw her as a maternal figure rather than anything else. He was also close to her son, Eric, feeling like an older brother to him.
Despite his demanding job, which kept him busy for nearly twenty-four-seven, Finn always tried to visit Ms. Tori and Eric whenever he could. Today was a rare opportunity for him to relax and reconnect.
"Ah, hi Ms. Tori! How are you today?" Finn greeted her with a warm smile.
Ms. Tori returned his smile. "I'm just fine, Finn. The real question is, how are you? I haven't seen you in months!" Her tone shifted to one of concern. "I was worried, and so was Eric. You do have quite a dangerous job for someone so young," she added.
What kind of dangerous job did Finn have, you might ask?
Well, Finn was a "Gaunt Hunter," a member of a specialized group tasked with safeguarding the small towns outside the major cities in the United West from creatures known as Gaunts.
These slim, humanoid creatures had leathery black skin, no eyes or nose, and wide mouths that drooled a strange dark green liquid. They had emerged after the cataclysmic "Decade of Winter."
The Gaunts varied in form and capability. Some were very muscular, while others had bat-like wings, allowing them to fly. They were also cunning, often creating weapons from scavenged materials and hunting in packs.
Disturbingly, these were just the common variants.
There were tales of Gaunts resembling animals and some that could even speak, though Finn himself had never encountered such anomalies.
Despite the ominous title of Gaunt Hunter, Finn's role wasn't as glamorous as one might imagine.
He wasn't a high-tech, gadget-wielding hero. Gaunt Hunters received training similar to regular police officers, focusing on the use of firearms. However, since firearms were not commonly traded or shipped to the smaller towns outside the major cities, Gaunt Hunters were also taught to wield swords, knives, and other melee weapons, as well as trained in close-range combat.
Finn had been trained to fire a pistol but also learned to fight with a machete, which was more practical for their needs than a traditional sword. On duty, he carried a standard-issue Glock-17 and a machete strapped to his side. He also wore the standard protective gear issued to United West Security Forces (UWSF) officers.
Returning to the conversation with Ms. Tori, Finn let out a lighthearted chuckle. "Dangerous for most of the veterans on the job, but I'm young and fit! Practically invincible!" he said with a grin.
Ms. Tori gave Finn an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow. "Is that right?" she asked. "Then what's this I hear about a Gaunt nearly taking your head off just last week?"
Finn's face flushed with embarrassment as he recalled the incident. A Gaunt had caught him off guard and nearly decapitated him with a makeshift axe. "Okay... yeah, fair enough," he admitted, looking down.
Ms. Tori's expression softened, and she gave him a few light taps on the shoulder. "Oh, I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Finn, I'm just reminding you that your job is dangerous… You need to be careful," she said gently.
Finn looked up at her and nodded. "I know, and thank you for caring," he replied. Inwardly, he thought, 'It's not like anyone else does'
"Of course, I care, Finn," Ms. Tori said firmly. "Do you know how devastated I'd be if you got hurt or, heaven forbid, died? I'd be heartbroken,” she told him. “Eric would be even worse off, after all, who would play with him?"
Finn felt a wave of warmth at her words. Despite not wanting to worry Ms. Tori or Eric, it was comforting to know there were people who cared about him, and who wanted him to stay safe and come back home. "I guess you're right," he said with a soft smile. "I'll try to be more careful out there, I promise,”
Ms. Tori nodded, her smile lingering. "Good,” she said. “Now, how many days do you have off?" she asked.
"Not many," Finn replied with a sigh. "Just today,"
Ms. Tori's eyes widened in shock. "Only today? Why?" She asked.
Finn's expression turned serious. "Many of the other Gaunt Hunters are either dead, retiring, or switching to become cops... There are only ten of us left in the entire town,"
Ms. Tori's eyes widened in horror. Gaunt Hunters were the primary defense against the Gaunts. The law across the U.W. dictated that local law enforcement dealt with human issues, leaving Gaunt-related threats to the Hunters. The thought of their numbers dwindling was terrifying.
Each town was supposed to have a contingent of Gaunt Hunters, given that small towns were the primary targets for Gaunt attacks.
Major cities, in contrast, rarely had to deal with Gaunts.
The dense populations of these urban centers acted as a deterrent, scaring off most Gaunt packs. Even if a small group of Gaunts did manage to attack, the cities were equipped with heavy weaponry and advanced defenses, making Gaunt Hunters unnecessary there.
This starkly contrasted with the dire need for Gaunt Hunters in the smaller, more vulnerable towns.
Ideally, each small town would have around fifty Gaunt Hunters, a number intended to ensure adequate protection against the Gaunt threat. However, the reality was far grimmer. The inherent dangers and heavy responsibilities associated with the job dissuaded many from becoming Gaunt Hunters. The perilous nature of the work, combined with the constant threat of death, resulted in a severe shortage of recruits.
As a result, the numbers in many towns had dwindled alarmingly.
"Only ten?" she repeated her voice barely above a whisper. "That's... alarming… What happens if more Gaunts come?"
"We do our best," Finn said, trying to sound confident. "But it's tough… Every day, we’re stretched thinner,"
Ms. Tori took a deep breath, trying to process the gravity of the situation.
Finn felt a lump in his throat. "I promise, Ms. Tori. I'll do everything I can to stay safe," he said, trying to remind her if his promise mere moments ago.
Ms. Tori wanted to argue with Finn's comment, but deep down, she knew he was somewhat right. The town was struggling—trade had slowed to a trickle, and many residents had moved away. The constant threat of Gaunt attacks made living there increasingly untenable. Even Ms. Tori had considered leaving to ensure Eric’s safety and to give him a chance to grow up in a more stable environment where he could interact with other children and experience the broader world.
However, she couldn’t bring herself to leave.
Her late husband was buried in this town, and even though years had passed since his death, she felt tied to the place where he rested. She had loved this town deeply, and in a way, staying felt like keeping a part of him alive.
Seeing the conflict in her eyes, Finn decided to change the subject. "Hey, why don't I come over for dinner?" he suggested with a soft smile. "I'm sure Eric would be happy to see me after so long,”
Ms. Tori was pulled out of her thoughts by his offer. She smiled, grateful for his willingness to spend his rare day off with them. "That would be lovely, Finn," she said with a quick nod.
They walked together to Ms. Tori's home, a modest three-bedroom house with a large attic. Inside, they found Eric sitting in front of the TV, watching cartoons. Hearing Finn’s voice, Eric turned, his face lighting up with excitement. He jumped out of his seat and ran to give Finn a hug.
Eric was about 11 years old, with brown hair like his deceased father but hazel eyes like his mother. He was wearing a dark black and blue striped shirt, dark gray pants, and black slip-on shoes.
Finn hugged him back, smiling. "I've got some stories to tell over dinner," he said, which made Eric's eyes sparkle with anticipation.
He loved hearing about the world beyond their town, even if it was mostly filled with woods and the ruins of an old world.
Finn then followed Ms. Tori into the kitchen to help prepare dinner. He found what he could and handed the items to her, glad to be of assistance. Ms. Tori thanked him and asked if he could help chop vegetables, which he was more than happy to do.
As they worked side by side, Ms. Tori glanced at Finn, her expression a mix of gratitude and concern. "You know, Finn, this town means a lot to me,” she told him “It’s where I built my life with my husband, and it’s where I want Eric to grow up, despite everything,"
Finn nodded, understanding the deep attachment she had. "I get it, Ms. Tori. This place has a lot of memories, and as long as I'm here, I'll do my best to keep it safe for you and Eric,"
Ms. Tori smiled warmly. "I know you will, Finn... Thank you,”
Dinner was a warm, lively affair. Eric listened intently to Finn’s stories, hanging on every word. The laughter and conversation filled the small home, creating a moment of normalcy amidst the chaos of their world. For a brief time, the threats outside seemed distant, and they enjoyed the simple pleasure of being together.
After a few bites, Eric looked at Finn eagerly. "Can you tell me one of your stories, Finn?" he asked, his eyes bright with anticipation.
Finn nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Well, a couple of days ago, I was out with two or three other Hunters, we had just finished fighting off a few Gaunts, once they were dealt with, we decided to explore the area since it was the site of an old abandoned amusement park,” he began. “Some of the rides were still standing, though most were broken and destroyed, it was interesting to see the tech they used to have back then," Finn recounted.
Eric's eyes widened with excitement. "Wow! That's awesome!" he exclaimed.
Finn grinned. "It was pretty cool, but it’s nothing compared to some of the parks I saw in Salton Lake City! Those places are amazing,"
Eric's eyes gleamed at the mention of the nearby city. "Man, I want to go there someday!" he said enthusiastically. "Maybe when I start my training to be a Gaunt Hunter," he added with a big smile.
Finn chuckled. "So, you want to be a Gaunt Hunter, huh?" he asked. "You think you’ve got what it takes?"
Eric nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh! I know I can be a Gaunt Hunter! I bet I can even be better than you!" he declared, pointing at Finn.
Finn raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh really?" he said. "Who's to say I'm not the best of the best, huh?"
Eric gave him a smug smirk. "Because if you were the best Hunter, you'd have already gotten rid of all the Gaunts!" he said confidently.
Finn chuckled. "Well, you got me there," he admitted. "But hey, if you think you can be the best and get rid of all the Gaunts, then I say go for it, dude."
Eric chuckled and resumed eating, his enthusiasm undimmed. Ms. Tori watched the two with a fond smile, marveling at the brotherly bond between them. It warmed her heart to see how close they had become. She knew that Finn cherished this connection just as much as Eric did, especially since Finn had grown up without a family of his own, raised in the local orphanage.
She recalled those early days when a young Finn would walk into the bakery, clutching a few coins. His eyes would light up with wonder at the sight of the treats and goodies lining the shelves. Something about him had touched her heart, and she began offering him free treats for him and the other orphans whenever he visited. Her late husband had also taken a liking to Finn, treating him like the son they never had. When Finn decided to become a Gaunt Hunter, it was her husband who had helped him prepare for the rigorous training, getting him into shape and offering constant encouragement.
After her husband's death, it was Finn who helped her grieve and find the strength to carry on. She had felt terrible about leaning on him during such a hard time, knowing he had his own sadness to deal with, yet he remained steadfast and strong. He had been there for her and for Eric, helping the young boy understand their loss and navigate the difficult times that followed.
She was truly grateful to have Finn in her life.
Suddenly, Finn's phone vibrated insistently in his pocket. He quickly reached for it and saw a text message from work. He opened it, dreading what it might say.
[~Finn, we need you tonight. Jon and Gary quit out of the blue, so we need someone to fill in.~]
Finn sighed, frustration bubbling up inside him. 'Great, now we're down to eight Hunters,' he thought. 'And Jon and Gary were both my age and in better shape than the veterans at the station.'
Ms. Tori noticed the change in his expression and knew immediately what it meant. "Does duty call, Finn?" she asked gently.
Finn nodded, his expression weary. "Yeah, looks like Jon and Gary quit. They need me to cover tonight."
Ms. Tori sighed, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Finn. I know how much you were looking forward to some time off."
"It's alright," Finn said, forcing a smile. "I knew it was a long shot anyway. The town needs all the help it can get."
Eric looked up, concern etched on his young face. "Do you have to go, Finn?"
Finn ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "Yeah, buddy. Duty calls. But I'll be back, and we’ll have more stories to share. I promise."
Ms. Tori gave him a supportive nod. "Just promise us you'll stay safe, Finn."
"I will," Finn assured her. He stood up, preparing to leave. "Thanks for dinner, Ms. Tori. It was great, as always."
As he left the warm, comforting atmosphere of Ms. Tori's home and headed out into the cold night, Finn felt a renewed sense of purpose. Despite the exhaustion and the ever-present danger, he knew he had to keep fighting. For the town, for Eric, and for the memory of the man who had helped him become who he was.
Once at the station, Finn entered and immediately spotted Dick Cortez, a veteran Gaunt Hunter who had been safeguarding the town for as long as Finn could remember. Dick, now in his 50s, had graying hair, deep-set wrinkles, and perpetually tired eyes. He was wearing the standard-issue armor that all Gaunt Hunters received, though each Hunter was allowed to customize their armor with different colors and modifications.
Dick's armor consisted of a high-collar black shirt beneath a modified, pure black chest plate that covered his upper abdomen, along with similarly-colored bracers. Both the chest plate and bracers were trimmed with white and featured matching shoulder pads. He also wore gloves with small metal plating on the fingers, dark navy jeans, black and white metal knee pads, and dark brown boots.
Dick noticed Finn and offered a small smile. "Heya, Finn," he greeted.
"Hey yourself, Dick," Finn replied with a nod.
"Sorry about having to bring you in on your day off," Dick said, his tone genuinely apologetic.
Finn walked over to his locker, where his armor and weapons were stored. He glanced at Dick and shrugged, giving a small smile. "It's alright, Dick. I understand why, and I'm not angry—well, not at you, but at those two," Finn said, referring to Jon and Gary.
Dick nodded in understanding. "Trust me, I'm disappointed in them too, but I can see why they left so suddenly," he said.
Finn nodded back, opening his locker to reveal his armor. His armor was similar to Dick's but differed in color and the clothing underneath. Finn wore his usual attire beneath the armor, which consisted of a dark brown chest plate trimmed with black, matching bracers, shoulder pads, knee pads, and gloves.
He took the armor out and quickly dressed, securing the pieces in place. He then grabbed his Glock and its holster, strapping it around his waist, and added his machete in its sheath. Once fully suited up, he turned to Dick with a raised brow. "Which side of town am I patrolling tonight?"
"Outer wall, west side," Dick stated, his voice firm.
Finn nodded, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead. The west side of the outer wall was notorious for Gaunt activity, a hotspot for their attacks. It was going to be a long night.
As he headed out, Dick called after him, "Stay sharp out there, Finn. We can't afford to lose any more good Hunters."
Finn turned back and gave a resolute nod. "I will, Dick. See you in the morning."
Once outside the city, Finn couldn't help but take in the grim sight of the outer wall. It was marred with deep scratches and chips from relentless Gaunt attacks, stained with the dark green goo that dripped from their slavering mouths, and speckled with bloodstains that would never fully wash away. The stark contrast between this battered exterior and the inner walls of the town was striking. Inside, the walls were adorned with chalk drawings from children and vibrant murals from the town's artists. These cheerful images served as a reminder of what he was protecting, and why he had chosen to become a Gaunt Hunter in the first place.
Reaching the west side of the wall, Finn began his patrol, moving back and forth to ensure no Gaunts were attempting to scale the barrier. For now, the night was quiet, and he hoped it would remain that way.
As he walked his beat, his thoughts drifted back to dinner with Eric and the boy's enthusiastic declaration about becoming a Gaunt Hunter. While part of him felt honored by Eric's admiration, another part was deeply troubled. The life of a Hunter was dangerous and filled with horrors that no one should have to witness, let alone a young boy like Eric.
Finn's mind flashed back to a particularly gruesome memory from a past patrol. He and another Hunter had been called to assist in repelling a large pack of Gaunts. They had rushed to the scene, only to find their comrades dead, slaughtered in horrific ways. One Hunter's skull had been cracked open, with Gaunts eating from it as if it were a bowl of grapes. Another Hunter, still alive, was being disemboweled and devoured. Finn could never forget the man's agonized expression as he watched his own entrails being torn apart and consumed. The sight had been so revolting that Finn had vomited on the spot, paralyzed by shock until his partner snapped him back to reality.
Then there were the stories he had heard from veterans like Dick. Dick once recounted an incident where a Hunter had been speared to death by multiple Gaunts. They hadn't even eaten him; they had just impaled him repeatedly, leaving his body to rot in the woods for days. Such tales highlighted the Gaunts' malevolence and complete lack of empathy.
Finn shuddered at the memories. He didn't want Eric to face such nightmares. The boy was full of life and potential, and Finn couldn't bear the thought of him enduring the same horrors he had.
Since that harrowing incident and the chilling story Dick had shared, Finn had sworn to himself that he wouldn't meet a similar fate. He vowed to go out fighting, to not end up like those other hunters. He couldn't bear the thought of becoming another victim, especially after what happened to his sister.
The sudden howl nearby jolted Finn out of his grim thoughts. The sound was close—too close. Instantly alert, he scanned his surroundings. Just then, something whizzed past his face, slicing his cheek. He turned to see a makeshift arrow embedded in the wall. Spinning back around, his heart sank as he saw ten Gaunts emerging from the tree line.
"Shit!" Finn cursed, his eyes widening in horror. This was a dire situation. He quickly drew his Glock and aimed at the advancing creatures. Before he could fire, a sharp pain seared through his left side. He glanced down to see a small dagger lodged in his torso.
'What the hell?' Finn thought, bewildered. 'Did one of the Gaunts throw this?'
"Sorry, but it's nothing personal," a strange voice echoed through the darkness.
Finn's gaze snapped forward, and he saw a figure emerging from the shadows. They wore a long black cloak that seemed to envelop them completely, giving the eerie impression that they were gliding across the ground rather than walking.
The figure approached him, their face obscured by the cloak's hood. "My, you are a handsome young man," they purred in a sultry tone. "Such a fucking shame that my babies must eat. We've been on the run, and they haven't had a chance to rest and eat until we saw you." They giggled, a chilling sound that sent shivers down Finn's spine.
Fear gripped Finn, but he managed to look up at the cloaked figure with a raised brow. "W-Who are you?" he stammered, his voice wavering.
The figure tilted their head slightly as if amused by his question. "Who am I?" they echoed. "I am their mother, their caretaker. I ensure they survive, even if it means feeding them humans like you." The figure leaned closer, and Finn could just make out a twisted smile beneath the hood.
Finn's mind raced. He needed to think of a way out, and fast. The Gaunts were closing in, and he was injured and at a severe disadvantage. Summoning his remaining strength, he clutched his Glock tighter and tried to steady his breath. He couldn't let this be the end.
The figure's giggle echoed eerily through the night, sending a shiver down Finn's spine. "Oh! Now I'm regretting stabbing you," they remarked with a twisted amusement. "It's not every day a handsome young man asks me my name, you know? Most prefer a no-name policy." Their tone was cryptic, and Finn couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in his gut. "While I would love to give you my name in far better circumstances, I'm afraid I don't have the time," they continued, their words dripping with urgency. "As I said, we're on the run from a rather unpleasant girl."
Finn's confusion only deepened. The figure's response didn't provide any clarity, leaving him even more perplexed. As the figure began to back away, Finn's eyes widened in shock as the Gaunts beside them moved in unison. ‘She can... control them!?’ he realized, disbelief washing over him.
"Go ahead, babies... EAT!" the figure commanded, her voice chillingly calm.
With a sickening lurch in his stomach, Finn watched as the Gaunts surged forward, their hunger palpable in the air. Determination surged within him, driving him to fight against the odds stacked against him. Ignoring the searing pain from his wound, he raised his gun and fired at the approaching Gaunts. Despite his efforts, only one was hit, and even then, it didn't slow down.
Finn gritted his teeth, preparing for the inevitable close-quarter battle with the monsters. "Come on!" he growled defiantly. "I'm right here!"
The Gaunts closed in, their predatory instincts driving them forward. Just as they leaped toward him, ready to strike, something unexpected occurred.
Thorny vines erupted from the ground, snaking around the Gaunts with incredible speed. Finn's eyes widened in astonishment as the vines ensnared the creatures, halting their advance. The vines twisted and contorted, slamming the Gaunts into the ground with brutal force, tearing at their flesh and rendering them helpless.
" Damn! How did that bitch already find us!?" the figure exclaimed, frustration evident in their voice.
Finn's gaze followed the figure's gaze as a new figure emerged from the shadows.
Her appearance was striking, to say the least. With a spiky red Mohawk and piercing red eyes devoid of any white, she exuded an aura of fierce determination. Smudged mascara framed her intense gaze, adding to her wild and untamed appearance. Her lips were painted black, a stark contrast to her fiery red hair and eyes. Clad in a black leather crop top vest that accentuated her slim, athletic frame, she exuded an air of defiance. Arm bands encircled her wrists and biceps, resembling the wraps worn by boxers, hinting at her combat prowess. Around her neck, she wore a large choker, adding to her rebellious demeanor. Her attire was completed by tight leather pants and high-heeled platform boots, giving her an imposing presence.
"Found you, ya freaking cunt!" she spat, her voice laced with venom.
The cloaked figure retreated, increasing the distance between them and the girl. "Ugh, don't you ever give up?" they retorted, their tone tinged with irritation.
The girl leveled a fierce glare at the figure. "After the shit you've done!? I ain't letting you go!" she declared, her voice dripping with disdain.
The figure let out a mocking giggle. "Is that so?" they taunted, gesturing toward Finn who lay wounded on the ground. "Not even to save his life?"
The girl's gaze shifted to Finn, her expression softening momentarily as she registered his injuries. Before she could react, a shrill howl pierced the air, drawing their attention back to the figure.
"What the hell did you do!?" the girl demanded, her voice trembling with rage.
"Oh, just called in a few friends over for dinner," the figure replied casually.
"You bitch!" the girl seethed.
With a swift motion, she thrust her hand forward, summoning a massive vine with thorns protruding from its surface. The vine lunged toward the figure, but they evaded the attack with agile grace, darting away through the forest.
"Have fun~!" they taunted, their laughter echoing through the trees as they disappeared into the darkness.
Driven by determination, the girl pursued the figure, her footsteps echoing through the forest. However, her path was suddenly obstructed as a horde of Gaunts emerged from the shadows, blocking her way with menacing snarls and bared teeth.
"Get out of my way!" the girl cried, her voice ringing with determination.
In an instant, a smaller thorned vine shot out of the ground with startling speed, piercing through the approaching Gaunts like a bullet. Lifted into the air by the force of the vine, the creatures were hurled aside, crashing into trees with bone-crushing force.
As more Gaunts emerged from the shadows behind her, four shots echoed through the air. Finn's aim was true, striking the advancing Gaunts and causing them to writhe in agony as they fell to the ground. The girl glanced back to see Finn's timely intervention, offering a silent nod of acknowledgment before focusing her attention back on the remaining threats. Summoning more vines, she ensnared the creatures, tearing them apart with ruthless efficiency.
Satisfied that the immediate danger had passed, the girl turned back towards Finn, who was now sitting against the wall, applying pressure to his wound.
Bending down beside him, the girl flashed a smile, revealing sharp triangular teeth reminiscent of a shark. "Nice shooting there, dude. Really saved my ass back there," she remarked.
Finn managed a weak chuckle. "I should be thanking you. If you hadn't shown up, I'd be Gaunt food," he admitted.
"Let's call it even, then, eh?" she suggested. "What's your name?" she inquired.
Finn met her gaze, taking a moment to catch his breath before responding. "Finn, Finn Tresscoat," he introduced himself. Curiosity burning in his eyes, he posed a question in return. "Who are you? No... What are you?" he asked, unable to shake off the mystery surrounding her.
The girl maintained her enigmatic smile, meeting his gaze with her striking red eyes. "The name's Rachel Rose," she revealed. "As for what I am, well... I can answer that once you're all patched up," she added cryptically.
Summoning another vine, Rachel gently lifted Finn to his feet, supporting him as they began to make their way back towards town. With each step, Finn's mind buzzed with questions, the mysteries surrounding Rachel and her abilities swirling in his thoughts. Who was the cloaked figure? How did they control the Gaunts? And most pressing of all, who—or what—was Rachel, and how was she able to command those vines with such ease?
As they walked back toward town, Finn couldn't help but feel the weight of exhaustion settle upon him, both physically and mentally. His thoughts swirled with questions about the events that had just transpired—about Rachel, the cloaked figure, and the unsettling abilities they both possessed. Yet, amidst the chaos of his mind, one pressing question emerged, demanding attention above all else.
'When the hell am I gonna get another day off? Because I can sure as hell use it right now...!' Finn thought to himself, his weariness palpable.
Rachel, walking beside him, seemed to sense his inner turmoil. Casting him a sidelong glance, she offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Finn. You'll have your chance to rest soon," she assured him, her voice carrying a note of empathy.
Finn managed a weary smile in return, grateful for the reassurance. Despite the gravity of their situation, her words offered a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that loomed over them…

TLDR: If you actually love penetration testing (you do all possible CTFs, hack the box, try hack me, etc) you can go for a "Red Team" and you already know it. In all other cases - Blue Team only.
It seems like folks think that cybersecurity is all fun and hacking, but this is only a small portion of the space. Anyone interested in cybersecurity should never target red team as the primary goal, you go there only when you know a ton about other things like SOC, IAM, Compliance, engineering behind everything, coding, hardware, etc. Pen testing is extremely difficult and not rewarding in many cases, try to report an open SIEM with no creds to the company or an open s3 bucket - you will not even get a "thanks" message in most cases, and that's by design, they discourage people from pen testing outside official penetration testing campaigns.
Most companies do not hire for a red team at all, Blue Team only and it's for a reason too - it is very beneficial for the company to hire a different 3rd party team of experts to be tested every 6-12 months, it exposes them to different approaches, avoiding bias and saving money too.
If company is serious about security they hire security engineers and soc/siem team. Security engineer role is primarily configure everything starting with vulnerability scanners, WAF, DNS, email security, CNAPP, Antivirus, EDXDwhateverDR, forensics, SCA, SAST/DAST, establish secure policies, like password managers, secret stores for applications, ssh over public keys, help resolve "anything related to security", etc, there is like a million things to do! All of that is attached to the SIEM and SOC team works with that. Now to test and improve on the defenses use a 3rd party provider (pen tester or a vulnerability scanner or both and x2). If there is something very internal needs to done - most security engineers should be able to accomplish most things. Test a new 0-day from Checkpoint doesn't require you to work on a red team, most securiry engineers should be able to validate and mitigate this (that's the topic of this week together with Snowflake and Ticketmaster!)
In other words, a Security Engineer is way more valuable to an average company, because if they do think about security those are the folks they have to hire full time. A good pen tester should also have a security engineer background, this will help them know the system and how to go around them. If you never configured a tool you might never know about its limitations and all you do is randomly guessing (dramatic example).
My recommendation to anyone is to target a security engineer role, in many cases you need to do SOC/Desktop Support/admin/coding/networking roles etc first. And if you fall in love with pen testing - go ahead, you will succeed if you love what you do, just don't do it because "it looks cool!"
I also recommend folks taking computer science degree instead of a dedicated "security" degrees because security require knowledge about everything IT, CS is the base for your knowledge, everything else goes on top of that and will help you learn new things faster, and you will have to learn all the time until the end of your career.
I didn't even touch on auditing, IAM, forensics and fraud, there is soany things you can do in the cybersecurity! Remember: pen testing chooses you, not the other way.

Salut à tous & welcome to ParisTravelGuide
This monthly thread aims at giving basic recommendations to navigate the subreddit and Paris, and offering a general chatter space. Depending on the (inter)national news, we may inform you on impacting events here (strikes,threats, global cultural or sport events..)

USING THE SUBREDDIT

• Browse the menus (on desktop or mobile app) to access:
  • Wiki
  • Rules (NB: rule-breaking contents can lead to a content lock, removal, or if needed a user ban)
  • Monthly threads Archive
• Access some featured contents directly
  • Parisians, why do you think first-time visitors will be disappointed in the city?", courtesy of u/huukat ;)
  • Ideas for a less-touristy Paris
  • Oddities and dive bars
  • Activities with kids/young teens
  • Activities with a baby/small kid
  • What to do when it rains in Paris? (quality advice not guaranteed)
  • Tips for first-timers
  • Most discussed recent trip reports
  • Traditional dishes from Paris and French regions
  • Where to eat hearty traditional cuisine
• Search the sub archive to check if your question has already been answered:
  • by using the Search Reddit field on top of the page (make sure to type ParisTravelGuide before your search term in the search field): search with "Louvre". NB: while really not user-friendly, you can even make more sophisticated searches How to search on Reddit)
  • by clicking on the flairs of the existing posts (category labels): filter with the "🏛 Louvre" flair

HANDLING THE BASICS OF PARIS

• General understanding
  • Wikivoyage for Paris (en): an external wiki covering various aspects of the city from a touristic point of view
  • Paris Voice (en) life in Paris seen by the English speaking community
  • Anglo Info Paris (en), same with a lot of practical info, to settle or as a tourist, also general info for France
• Accommodations
  • Increase of the tourist tax for 2024: read carefully to avoid any bad surprises, especially for non-classified hotels that can apparently charge as if they were palaces due to a loop-hole.
• Public transport
  • Read the dedicated section in our wiki Transports (en) / Transports (fr)
• Taxis
  • public: G7 (en) is the only company recognized as public taxis in Paris. It applies fixed fares for travels between the two main airports (CDG and ORLY) and the two sides of the city (left bank / right bank of the Seine river), booking or extra services fees not included.
  • private: Uber are widely used, others are available like Bolt, Heetch, Marcel or Freenow
• Day trip
  • the Trainline (en) is a very straight forward and efficient data aggregator from various European train and bus companies. (the national one sncf-connect being a bit of a nightmare to use)
• Airports
  • Roissy-Charles de Gaulle aka CDG (en)
  • Orly aka ORY (en)
  • Beauvais aka BVA (en) and dedicated Bus shuttle for Beauvais airport <> Paris (Porte Maillot)
• Tourism Office:
  • Paris je t'aime (en): only for inner Paris
  • Visit Paris region (en): for the whole region Ile de France.
• Cultural/Event agenda:
  • Sortir à Paris (en): culture and nightlife agenda
  • Officiel des Spectacles (fr): movies/plays/concerts agenda
  • Paris LGBT (en): places, events and resources about the LGBT community
  • Paris Jazz Club (en): jazz concerts agenda
  • Fanzo (fr): search engine with a map for sports broadcasts in bars
• Health:
  • Public hospitals map
  • English speaking professionals list(en)
  • Pharmacies, day and night openings (en)
  • Emergency phone numbers(en)
• thread for Protest and Strikes concerns
• Eating
  • casual: David Lebovitz(en), a blog of a former US chef living in Paris for casual / traditional food
  • trendy: Le fooding(en), trendy reference magazine for foodies
  • starred: Michelin guide, for 1/2/3 stars restaurants or other gastronomic venues
• Civil unrest
  • Sporadic and sudden protests are very rare. The existence of a protest is very regulated, the day and the route have to be agreed with the authorities several days prior to the date.
• Authorized protest or march
  • a march usually lasts from 2pm to 6pm and most demonstrators stay until 8pm at the final destination
  • Demonstrators (and/or police) outbursts are more likely to happen at the end from 8pm
  • Most of the stores along the route close for the whole day, and side accesses to these boulevards are barred by the police to motorized vehicles.
  • 95% of the city goes on as usual in terms of street life.
  • Metro lines M1 and M14 are automated and thus operate whether there is a strike or not.
  • Taxis: all the companies work during a strike
    • G7: main company of the "Taxis parisiens", regulated price
    • UbeHeetch/Bolt/FreeNow: categorized as VTC ("Véhicules de Tourisme avec chauffeur"), unregulated price
• Safety
  • Police department recommendations
  • Safety tips video by les Frenchies (experienced US travelers)
  • Density & safety level: Paris administrative area ("Paris intramuros") is fairly small for a global capital but the population density is very high. Besides that, Paris is currently the most visited city in the world. This situation inevitably leads to various problems or dramas from time to time and one should beware of this cognitive bias. No public statistics accessible, but Paris' safety level is said to be fairly comparable to other big Western metropolis like London, Rome, Barcelona, Brussels or NYC but lower than Amsterdam, Berlin or generally Scandinavian / Central / Eastern European cities.
  • Violent crime: it is very unlikely in inner Paris, European gun laws being much more restrictive than US laws.
  • Pickpockets & scams: while generally safe, you might be exposed to pickpockets, scams or harassment in crowded areas, be it touristic, commercial or nightlife hubs. Keep your belongings in sight and try not to display too much costly items. Avoid unsolicited street vendors (not to be confused with, say, street artists near Montmartre or "bouquinistes" of the quays of Seine) and the occasional street games like Bonneteau ("shell game") that are known scams.
  • Cat-calling: this is a common issue towards women in Mediterranean countries. In Paris, it is more prevalent in the more modest neighborhoods in the North / North-East- of the city.
  • Emergency: If you are in an emergency situation, call 17 (police) / 18 (firefighters but who also handles all life and death emergencies) / 112 (universal European emergency number). All of them are interconnected and will be able to redirect you to the correct one if you happen to pick the wrong one.
  • Neighborhoods:
    • Tourism is concentrated in the rich areas from the center (roughly arrondissements 1st to 8th + Montmartre 18th).
    • As in most cities, main train stations tend to attract more people from the outside, hence a bit riskier, especially at night and crowded metro lines serving the main landmarks
    • The northern outskirts of the city (around Porte de la Chapelle / Porte d'Aubervilliers / Porte de la Villette) are home of temporary refugee camps, a high poverty and rarely drug use in the open. It could feel quite unsafe at night, better be accompanied by locals if you want to venture around at night there or simply pass through.
    • The surroundings of the very central area of Les Halles (around the eponymous commercial mall) can be a bit messy at night as a lot of young people gather here for eating / drinking or hanging out in the streets. It is still home of great streets for night life like rue Saint Denis but beware of the crowds.
    • Also metro stations on line 2 Barbes, La Chapelle and Stalingrad and their surroundings are among the most modest and messy, with countraband cigarettes sellers and potential pickpockets.
    • Southern and Western parts are more posh and family oriented but could be "less lively" than the rest of the city.

ONGOING EVENTS

• Olympic Games preparation Impacts thread
  
• Israel/Palestine conflict Impacts thread
  
• Plan Vigipirate
  
  • Evacuation of public places in case of a left-alone bag for controlled destruction as what happened in the Louvre or Versailles recently. It also happens from time to time in subways.
  • Military patrolling in the city, mostly around landmarks, schools and religious buildings.
  • It doesn't mean there is a particular problem, but they take maximum precaution in these tense moments.

GENERAL CHATTER

The comment sections below is here for members to freely ask questions that are recurrent or not worth a dedicated post (like transport, safety or protests topics), write appreciations, greetings, requesting meetups...
Same rule applies as in the rest of the sub, post topics regarding Paris and its surroundings only please.
Bref, chit-chat mode is on in the comments!
This thread is automatically archived and regenerated every first day of the month at 8am (Paris Time) - Archives

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The following two brain scans were provided by the Neuro-Warfare branch of the Halcyon Security Division (HSD) for the purpose of analyzing the thoughts, behaviors, and information of notorious gangsters Vincent 'Troy' Cohen and Bruno (Deadname: Koraak Tel-Char). At the point of the recording of this archival shared, Bruno has since received his rebirth therapy, and Vincent is currently serving a long-term rehabilitative and reeducative sentence in the Erebus Supermax Prison on Io.
Warning: the contents of this archival shared may be especially disturbing to some audiences. Viewer discretion is advised.
Warning: the contents of this archival shard are for the sole purpose of analyzing the thought patterns and memories of certain degenerate criminals in an effort to ascertain vital information that can be used to eliminate their organizations. Only staff with clearance level Omega may view this archival shared, and the viewership of this archival shared by anyone of inadequate clearance level will lead to twenty years in prison and a fine of over a hundred thousand credits.
Booting up memory scan: Vincent 'Troy' Cohen, November 4th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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"Do you have visuals of the target, Troy?"
I knelt down in the alleyway, the bodies of me and my partners shrouded in long, waterproof, ashen-gray overcoats the shade of dirty street scum that we wore to ward off the constant heavy rainfall the color of osmium. Our faces were covered in a mix of scrapped respirators, visors, or full metal face masks carved with intricate designs to hide our identities. On our waists were our badges of honor: leather belts studded with interlocked rivets made from blackened titanium, each buckle forged of silver and shaped into the head of our gang's symbol, the black mamba. We hid amongst the shadows of the dark midday of Halcyon City, the heavy, oppressive rains blanketing the roads paved obsidian-black with asphalt and weathered concrete walkways. The street lamps were always on, like beacons of false hope in a storm of melancholy.
The city was dark and dreary as always, the planet of Proxima Centauri B, renamed Dawn's Lamentation over a century ago, orbited the red dwarf star of Proxima Centauri, and the atmosphere was thick with natural smog and ever-storming rain clouds. That didn't dissuade people from living here: there was plenty of money to be had for shrewd industrialists and hardworking pioneers, even in the urban sprawl. But that life also came with risks, especially for those on the bottom of the totem pole.
I was a ganger, and we were criminals; full stop. I won't assault you with some spiel about how we're the good guys fighting oppression because, at the end of the day, we could be just as bad, if not worse, than Halcyon's Security Division, or the HSD for short. We were traffickers, killers, extortionists, and money launderers. We dealt with everything from stolen tech and military-grade hardware to hard drugs and sentients.
Yes, sentients. We trafficked sentients, but not in the way you might think. They weren't prisoners, in fact, we were their saviors if they had the cash. We had developed a reputation for fighting the power, but it was still business: sure, freeing captives from the clutches of the Protectorate. The disruption of its many oppressive organizations held a certain satisfaction in my heart for sure, but we didn't help those who couldn't pay unless someone else paid on their behalf. It was about making sure me and my gang, my family, could live a decent life for another day.
It helped that most of us joined after leaving the state yard for partaking in acts of 'degeneracy' and 'anti-xenopet illegalities' as if those terms meant anything anymore other than that we were a threat to the local status quo. It was hard to pick up a job as a former inmate when even in something as harsh and backbreaking as a job in the iridium mines near the poles when the employment office had you blacklisted as a degenerate, which lead to the formation of many of the gangs: we needed to make a living somehow, and when all social programs were cut off from you unless you submitted for 're-education' and the only way to put food on the table was subverting, breaking, or even downright fighting the law, you did what you had to do or you died on the streets a scorned beggar.
It wasn't like the HSD made it easy for us on even a good day: the local HSD units were armed to the teeth with advanced, military-grade hardware that you'd often see on the front lines of the Second Authority War: armored assault transports, a myriad of advanced war droids, all sorts of chemical countermeasures that made tear gas seem like putting the garden hose on mist mode, and of course advanced firearms. Add that to the fact that they were authorized to use deadly force when they deemed it necessary and you had a ruthless, heartless, and nearly unstoppable enemy. But we could make that work: we weren't trying to stop them, just to withstand them.
"Yeah, I got eyes on the prize, Koraak; seven armored transports, two for droids, five for prisoners."
Today wasn't a day for a normal job: we were getting bolder, cockier, more ambitious. Our numbers had swelled for the last few years after the raid at Barnard's Star and the fall of the Blood Dragon Mafia. Their leader, Saito Yasuhide, had committed seppuku as their manor burned, and his twin sons had gone down fighting rather than allowing themselves to be captured simply to face a firing squad. In the aftermath, many of the family's associates had fled to the surrounding systems, and with the sheer size and scope of the criminal underworld found here, it was no wonder that many people who had developed skills of the less legal variety had decided to form ranks with the gangs, and with them they brought guns, tech, knowledge, contacts, and even something that we thought wasn't possible beforehand: a semblance of peace between the gangs, or at least the closest thing to peace that gangs could cultivate effectively. With the fall of the Blood Dragons, we saw the writing on the wall, and the writing couldn't have been clearer: work together or die together.
"Sounds like a massacre, Troy: are you sure we can handle seven?"
"We ain't got no choice, Cinder: this job's double the usual rate, and that's not including the weapons and gear we could scrounge if this goes well," I hissed, my eyes scanning for any resistance. There were at least four guards for each van, not to mention at least eight droids in total, meaning that we were already outnumbered, but we had the element of surprise: we could make it work. "So put your balls in your purse and get ready to spill some blood."
Koraak snorted at our antics, which sounded like someone pulling the ripcord on a lawnmower. He was a veteran Russu Corsair, and while his past of slaving, raiding, and killing was unsavory, so were the lives we'd lived, so who were we to judge? All we cared about was that he was a brutal and capable fighter and a loyal brother in arms. It turned out that being a ganger wasn't much different from being a Corsair: you lived and died by a code of honor, you fought to the death for your brothers, and you lived to die for the sake of your gang and your family, simple as that. In a strange, ironic way, it was an incredibly honest way of life: we were under no illusions as to what we were, what we did, and why we did it, and we'd long since accepted it. The Russu related to us in that aspect, in many ways I could respect, which is why I hated what the Protectorate was doing, and why I couldn't grasp how most of humanity could just collectively lose their marbles so long ago. What had happened for us to deem all other life below us in such a demeaning and infantilizing way?
The Russu were a race of tall, muscle-bound Saurians with avian features, and Koraak was no exception: reaching almost seven feet in height and weighing over four hundred and fifty pounds, he could be an absolute menace if he so desired. His skin was covered in stubby, knobby scales and dense plumage, with elegant feathers adorning the ridges along his back as well as his forearms, elbows, knees, and the crests on his head. He almost looked like how paleontologists described velociraptors, with razor-sharp talons, feathers shaded in vibrant greens, reds, and purples, and a maw full of sharp teeth, but at the tip of his snout was a sharp, beak-like growth meant for ripping flesh off the bone.
The Russu were strange as hell, but they also looked almost cute in the same way a fully grown alligator was cute: they were obviously dangerous, but humans would always have this innate desire to anthropomorphize them and to pet them for some inexplicable reason, although common sense usually prevented that, at least amongst the very few of us left that were sane.
"Shut up, Troy! All I'm saying is that that'll be rough, and you know it," hissed Cinder. Cinder was a tall black man whose coffee-colored skin was covered in tattoos. He wore an ebony mechanic's jumpsuit with metal inserts underneath his grimy overcoat covering his body and a faded black respirator on his face. His eyes were a startling blue that seemed sorely out of place, and his hair was braided into thick cornrows along his scalp. He wore a pair of heavy black combat boots and palmed his compact shotgun in his hands, the square barrel less than seven inches. Like a lot of the weapons the Black Mambas carried on their persons and dealt in, they fired caseless ammunition; in Cinder's case it was 16x40mm caseless shotshells filled with depleted uranium micro-flechetes no thicker than a toothpick. Cinder nervously fiddled with the detachable tube magazine underneath the barrel, his hands shaking. Despite the shit I have him, I didn't blame him for being anxious: I was anxious too, even if I refused to show it. The biting cold of unease and pessimism was in my stomach, and I ran all the way that this job could go wrong in my head over and over.
"Just hold yourself together, this ain't anything we haven't done before, there's just more of it," I reassured Cinder, "besides, we're not alone; we have reinforcements across the street. We'll make it out of this alive."
Cinder nodded almost absentmindedly, his eyes downcast and his breathing shallow. I turned from him and back to Koraak, who was making sure he had everything on his person; he had a synthetic leather bandoleer across his chest that contained the heavy eight guage depleted uranium slugs he kept loading and unloading into his much larger, longer, and more traditional shotgun he nicknamed ‘carnage’ and several leather straps that held his Tu'shan daggers: traditional Russu pyramidal blades forged from a silvery alloy with all three edges serrated and the tip barbed to leave behind horrible, gaping wounds that gushed blood. They were wickedly sharp and absolutely straight like a stiletto, and the hilts and pommels were beautifully decorated. He wore no clothes underneath his overcoat to cover the countless scars and blemishes he's earned in combat across his chest and abdomen, and instead of a normal respirator or visor, he simply wore a hood over his head and some traditional Russu facial armor to protect his mouth, eyes, and cheeks.
"You ready to fight, Koraak? The caravan will pick up and leave soon."
Koraak was silent for a moment before nodding, a human gesture he had picked up after serving as a soldier with the Black Mambas for years. "I'm always ready to fight," he said before lifting up his shotgun and aiming down the sights at the reinforced front wheels of the first armored car in the caravan. He exhaled and fired, the slug ripping through both front tires and causing them to deflate and fall apart. The echo of the shot rang through the alleyway and the street, causing pedestrians to panic and flee the scene as heavily armored guards poured out of the side doors of the armored cars and unholstered their carbines.
"Go, now!" I shouted, and both me and Cinder rushed out into the fray, our guns raised. Koraak was right behind the two of us, providing covering fire with his shotgun. Several guards fell quickly, Koraak's precise fire and the sheer force of the depleted uranium slugs putting them down for good as their heads were vaporized or their chest cavities were turned to mush. He emptied the tube with one final shot that painted the grey matter of a security guard on the door of one of the armored cars, then racked the shotgun and expertly loaded it in threes, his hands deft and agile as he reached for more slugs faster than any human.
With the cacophony of our initial assault, more Black Mambas poured out from the alleyways and the subways, armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons; shotguns, submachine guns, pistols, machetes, baseball bats, and all manner of homemade explosives. Molotovs and more potent concoctions shattered against the asphalt, herding in the caravan guards with their volatile contents as they were quickly gunned down. The assault was working, and we were winning.
Then I heard the robotic whine of a combat droid activating, and my heart sank. One of the armored cars in the back activated the four combat droids it held, the robotic assault units detaching from their charging ports on the sides of the large van and began to form up, each armed with a terrifying array of deadly weapons meant to quash any and all resistance. They were blocky, soulless, utilitarian things that stood at eight feet tall, with flat feet meant for stomping and blades, grasping claws designed to lacerate flesh and shatter bone. On each shoulder was a weapon: on the left was a multi-barrel rotary grenade launcher loaded with 15mm concussion grenades, and on the right was a burst-fire splinter cannon. They were all painted a dull grayish-green, the color of Halcyon's Security Division, although some had a few decorations on them: the one closest to me had a bit of graffiti on the side that said Mr. Hugs in Comic Sans, which I couldn't decide whether that made it more or less terrifying. They split up without hesitation and began to scan the chaotic battlefield, their single, red, beady lenses the security forces had the gall to call eyes focusing on specific targets to eliminate.
An entire group of Black Mambas was torn to pieces by a cloud of flechettes as one of the droids fired a withering three-round burst of shotshells from the four gauge splinter cannon mounted on its shoulder. Another picked up a Black Mamba in its hand and crushed her skull effortlessly before tossing her limp body to the side, its single, red, remorseless robotic eye tracking a new target. Most bullets that struck their thick armored chassis simply bounced off, and those that could pierce the armor didn't seem to phase the droids whatsoever, merely notifying them of a new potential target.
"Damnit," I shouted as I gunned down another guard only for two more to take his place. "Cinder! We gotta pop open the cars and scram! Get the maglock cutters!"
Cinder rushed and slid over through a dirty puddle, pulling out a maglock cutter from the inside of his coat and slipping it onto the back door of the first van. It immediately went to work, drilling through the maglock with a high-powered plasma torch nozzle, and within ten seconds we heard the telltale clunk of the maglock separating. I yanked the door open and ordered I side, ready to escort the prisoners out… only for my face to contort in shock and horror.
The back was empty. There was not a single soul inside of the back brig of the armored car.
"What the fuck…" Cinder gasped, his eyes wide with shock. "What the actual fuck… what the fuck is this, Troy?"
"I… I don't…" I stuttered the sounds of battle and carnage drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in my ears. All five cars were supposed to be filled with recently captured Russu from the front lines ready to be housed in the local Xenopet-Megaplex for processing and conditioning. The fact that this one was empty…
Suddenly, it all hit me at once with the force of a freight train, but it was too late. "We were set up, Cinder; our fucking client either squealed or was crooked to begin with…"
"Fucking bitch!" Cinder shouted as he spun around in an enraged arch, anger growing in his eyes. He aimed his shotgun at an approaching security guard and reduced his upper body to a fine red mist with a cacophony of shotgun blasts. "We gotta get everyone who's left out of here! Do you know what this means? The Jurors will be here soon, and then we're all going down! We gotta go, fuck the job!"
I grit my teeth. Not the Jurors, anything but the Jurors.
"Fine, gather everyone who's left and we'll slip through the sewers, the droids are too bulky to follow us there…"
As I spoke, my eyes wandered to the seventh and final armored car, the second of the droid cars, and my blood froze. Not only were all four ports empty, but they were also smaller and more shallow than the ports for the combat droids. That could only mean one thing.
"Oh fuck! Cinder, we gotta get our Russu members out of here! They've got arachnid droids!"
Arachnid droids were the stuff of nightmares. Resembling blocky, robotic arachnids the size of a manhole cover, they were specifically designed to take down sentient aliens, specifically the Russu, using sickeningly non-lethal means. They were equipped with full-body adaptive cloaking to blend in with their environments, paralytic agents that they could inject into their victims, built-in taser barbs, psychedelic gas ports for crowd-control, and a narrow-coned cacophony canon that disabled the Russu using incredibly high-pitched sounds that only they could hear, forcing them onto their knees and clutching the backs of their heads where their auditory organs were stored in agony. But worst of all was their stygian spinnerets: special ports near the end of their robotic abdomens that excreted a viscous, latex-like substance made up of millions of nano-bots. This substance could be used to render Russu blind, deaf, and mute by having it forced onto their faces, the black substance growing and enveloping their heads and working its way into every orifice. It was completely permeable to the standard atmosphere, but any Russu who had been 'webbed' was completely helpless and essentially captured, and the 'webbing' was both nearly indestructible and nigh impossible to remove without a triple-encrypted override key that was found in every arachnid droid's code, which was corrupted when the droid was destroyed or hacked into. Once you were 'webbed', you were essentially captured and the standard protocol was to leave you to the wolves since the nano-bots could be tracked, endangering the entire gang.
I turned just as I heard the deafening sound of Koraak discharging his shotgun, and I saw him squaring off against one of the assault droids. The droid has obviously been programmed to not use lethal force against Russu if possible, as instead of simply killing Koraak with it's shoulder-mounted splinter cannon, it approached with its claws extended, blades retracted. Koraak continued to back away and fire, pumping the droid full of depleted uranium slugs, its armor crumbling inward as the slugs pierced its chassis and damaged its internal cyberstructure. Eventually, Koraak ran out of slugs and instinctively reached to his bandoleer only to find that he had no more shells left at all, and he drew one of his knives and his sidearm, a simple high-caliber handgun. He tried to take down the droid with his handgun, but the bullets didn't even seem to affect the droid upon penetration, it's claws still extended as it attempted to apprehend Koraak.
In the corner of my vision, as I watched Koraak battle with the droid, I noticed a faint shimmer in the air on one of the black streetlight poles that was right behind him. I focused on it and blinked, believing my eyes had deceived me for a moment before realizing that it was actually a cloaked arachnid droid stalking Korvaak, ready to pounce and incapacitate him.
Before I could shout, it leaped from the pole and landed on Korvaak, causing him to shout in surprise while it began to coagulate its horrifying stygian webbing to disable Korvaak. Korvaak tried to wrestle it off of him, but the droid was agile and fast, clinging onto Korvaak and skittering around across his upper body as he attempted to grab it, forcibly wrapping the sticky black liquid across his face as he gagged like a spider wrapping up a fly. I rushed towards him to try and help, but I felt pain explode in my ribs as I was struck with the arm of the closest combat droid and launched into the chassis of a parked car, the metal denting from the sheer force of impact. I groaned in pain as I saw stars and my head spun, and just then I felt a blinding light be cast over me.
“Drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head, or you will be pacified with deadly force!” Shouted a loud, artificially deepened voice from above. “I repeat, drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head! Neither hostility nor hesitation will be tolerated!”
It was the Jurors, I could feel the air being pushed around from the thrusters on their drop ships, and I could hear screams and shouts as my fellow Black Mambas were quickly gunned down. I couldn’t see well since I was seeing double, but I could hear the slaughter as my eyes dimmed and I began to lose consciousness, my regrets crawling up my throat like vomit.
I’m sorry was all I could think as everything finally went dark, and the sounds of chaos, destruction, and combat faded away.
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Memory halted due to loss of consciousness. Booting next available memory in shard…
Booting up memory scan: Koraak Tel-Char Bruno, November 5th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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“Good morning, sleepyhead; it’s time for breakfast.”
My eyes shot open. I was not in the street anymore, nor was I home in my bed with my mate. I knew instantly that something was horribly wrong. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t gain the leverage to do so: my ankles had been shackled together with magnetic cuffs and my arms were forced together in front of me.
I was wearing some kind of thick shirt. It was warm, fluffy, and comfortable on the inside, but it still made me incredibly uncomfortable that my arms didn’t have a free range of motion. I looked down to see that I was wearing some human garment I had heard about before, a straightjacket maybe?
The entire room was padded: the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. There was no bed or furniture; the floor was soft enough to serve as a bed in itself. There was nothing else except for the soft reddish-orange lights on the ceiling that somehow made me sleepy. I blinked slowly for a moment, my body screaming at me to just lay back down and lose consciousness, but I couldn’t do that: I needed to figure out where I was and how to escape.
Then I noticed who was speaking to me: it was a short human female, with crow's feet around her blue eyes, blonde hair braided down her back, and freckles all over her face. She had a soft smile on her lips, and her forehead was slightly crinkled. She wore a full-body white lab suit with a white overcoat and a pair of glasses for snugly on her face.
"There we go, now I can see those pretty eyes, such a beautiful shade of teal," she cooed softly, "You're such a handsome boy, even with all those scars: I'm sure you'll be adopted very quickly once we get you fixed up."
Fear gripped my heart as I began to piece all the evidence together. I had been captured; I was no longer on Halcyon, and instead, I was in one of the horrific space-born facilities I had heard so much about from the inside agents. I started to hyperventilate and squawk like a newborn hatchling, my eyes dilating in panic. This couldn't be happening! This has to be a nightmare!
The human woman merely wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into an embrace, cradling my head under her chin and speaking softly. I couldn't bite at her or claw at her: I was muzzled and wearing a straight jacket, so I had no choice but to allow her to coddle me.
"It's okay, sweetheart: I understand you're scared, but Julie's here to make all the pain and bad thoughts go away," she said as if she was comforting a child, which made anger blossom in my chest indignantly. "I'll be your caretaker for the next few months, and I'm going to make sure you're healthy, happy, and most importantly safe while you're under our care. I'm sorry to say that includes your restraints and restrictive clothing, but we have to make sure you aren't a threat to yourself or others before we can determine if it's a good idea to remove you from suicide watch."
I growled under my muzzle. Suicide watch? They must have had a lot of instances of Russu taking their own lives after being captured, something I wished I had been able to do before that damnable droid launched itself onto me and…
I shuddered at the thought of the black, viscous substance forcing itself into my nostrils and down my throat and windpipe, gagging me and rendering me completely helpless. It was so cold, so harsh, like slime, and when I had tried to tear it off of my face it merely attached itself to my claws and bound my talons together. I remember squirming on the ground as it enveloped me, unable to see, hear, or speak, and then everything went dark in an instant. It was the most horrible thing I had ever experienced, which was saying something.
"You alright, sweetheart? Oh, I know, you're probably hungry! Here, try some of this." She held up a piece of what looked like raw bacon and wiggled it in front of me before reaching out to remove my muzzle. In an instant, I attempted to snap at her only for pain to blossom in my forehead and my eyes to roll up in my head as I convulsed. It was like something was attempting to drill through my skull from the inside, and every breath felt empty and labored.
"Now, that didn't feel very nice, did it? This is why we have countermeasures in place because we can't trust you yet, sweetheart! Don't worry, we'll work on breaking you of all those bad behaviors and habits while you're here; after all, a well-trained pet is a happy pet!" She began to stroke the crests on my head as I slowly recovered, and she snugly fit the muzzle back onto my snout. "But I won't hold it against you this time, sweetheart; you're just scared and confused, but I'll make all the pain go away."
I struggled in the straight jacket, trying my best to break out of it, but it was no use. Eventually, I became exhausted and despondent, allowing my new caretaker to have her way with me as she gently ran her fingers through my feathers and along my ridges, quietly speaking to me in a hopeless attempt to cheer me up. She seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being, which concerned me even further: who could be this naturally twisted while attempting to be as benevolent and kindhearted as possible?
I felt the pain and terror build up in my chest, the anxiety from what horrific activities I imagined they had planned for me here. I couldn't take the infantilization, the lack of any autonomy, the dehumanization, and what I feared the most was if the rumors of 'rebirth' were true: would they take my personhood from me?
Suddenly, I felt her whisper to me. "Don't worry sweetheart, I know you're so scared and confused, but I promise you everything will be okay: it's going to be your birthday soon, and then everything will get better." She ran her fingers through the feathers along my crest lovingly. "It will be such a wonderful day, and then we'll choose for you the most wonderful family, and you'll spend the rest of your life happy in your forever home! Doesn't all of that sound wonderful?"
I wanted to die. I wanted to disappear. I didn't want to lose myself, not like this, not to these monsters!
"It'll be your birthday soon," she said wistfully as if she was remembering similar events to this in the past like I wasn't the first she'd done this too, "and you'll never be sad again."
I realized that I wasn't the first the stay in this particular cell, and I knew for certain that I wouldn't be the last: I'd end up like my brother, a broken, erased mess of a pathetic creature, reduced to nothing more than a pet for these humans to amuse themselves with.
"We took the liberty of picking out a nice name for you, sweetheart! Now, let me just slip this little programming chip into the port slot on your occipital bone, and... there we go! It will also help you calm down a bit and adjust."
I felt the chip begin to invade my mind, suppressing my thoughts. What made me me was slowly being ripped out of my mind. I couldn't remember my name my name is Bruno, and I needed to get out! I can't let them do this to me! Somebody help me! I was a good boy.
##Do not think. You are a good boy.##
I tried to scream, but my voice wouldn't work: I had trouble forming any words at all, the confusion clouding my mind like wet, slimy eels curling around my brain and sinking their teeth into its folds like needles. I couldn’t scream any longer, because I had nothing left: the chip was slowly beginning to take everything from me, robbing me of my identity and branding a new one into my psyche with a white-hot iron. Julie simply held me close, attempting to reassure me as I awaited the inevitable demise of my personhood. Soon I would be just like my brother: erased. My mind would be shaped into the mind of a loyal plaything, like a Dog.
##Relax. Allow caretaker [Julie] to comfort you. You will let go of your burden.##
Soon, everything was a blur. I quickly found myself resting my head in her lap as she whispered to me and fed me, my eyes bleary and my head fuzzy. I couldn't remember my name anymore My name was Bruno, and I needed to break free from this trance relax, and allow her to help me; good boys didn't resist help.
##Good Boy. Do not think. You are a good boy.##
You can't... I...
##Good boy.##
I wouldn't… good boys don't… I…
##Good boy##
I was a good boy… I was a good boy…
I was… I was… a good… boy…
Someone help me, please! I don't want to be erased!
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The following script is from episode #343 of Halcyon After Dark, a popular late-night and current events talk show hosted by Melinda Carter. This specific episode was sponsored in part by the Halcyon Security Division, with Director Lochlin O'Brien joining as a guest star to talk about the changing crime statistics in Halcyon City and the HSD's recent successes in busting organized crime as well as their plans for addressing the growing criminal underworld.
MC: Good evening Halcyon! I'm your host, Melinda Carter, and you're watching Halcyon's most popular late-night talk show, Halcyon After Dark!
The crowd claps and cheers as Melinda walks on stage and sits behind her desk, her glittering red dress waving as she does so from the special effects.
MC: Tonight we have a very special guest here to tell us about the state of crime in the city and his plans on resolving it: please put your hands together for the HSD's very own Director, Lochlin O'Brien!
The crowd cheers some more as HSD Director Lochlan O'Brien, a tall, muscular, caucasian male in his early forties with red hair and a well-trimmed beard steps into the room, waving at the crowd with a bright smile. He sits in the armchair angled next to Melinda's desk and gives her his full attention.
MC: It's so good to have you on the show, Director! Tell me, how are you doing on this fine evening?
LO: I'm doing excellent, Melinda: every day I wake up feeling fulfilled knowing I'm serving Halcyon to the best of my abilities and then some."
MC: That's the spirit, Director! Now, I know this question is just on everyone's lips, so I have to ask: how successful was the recent gang bust? I heard HSD forces took out dozens of gang members and liberated at least a dozen Russu Hounds from their abusive clutches, but I know that everyone in the audience and at home wants to know the numbers.
LO: I'd be glad to tell you, but I do have to preface this by saying that we still lost a lot of good officers that day, and while we did strike a crippling blow to one of Halcyon's biggest gangs, it doesn't change the fact that each death is a tragedy, and we're taking steps to prevent them in the future. That being said, those valiant officers did not sacrifice themselves in vain: we had over a dozen confirmed kills and several arrests, including the rescue of several corrupted Russu hounds.
MC: That's excellent, Director: proof that even when the number of degenerates and scum grow by the day, the HSD will always be here to keep the citizens of Halcyon safe.
LO: Absolutely, Melinda, and we're always working tirelessly to increase the efficiency and effectiveness of our units, as well as racing to stay several steps ahead of the many gangs of Halcyon at all times. My newest goal as Director is to vastly increase the funding given to our Robotics Department and our Neuro-Warfare Department to potentially reduce the number of casualties we may experience in the future, as well as to quickly and effectively detain, and if necessary, eliminate criminals. Within the next decade, I want to double the number of automated units each Security Platoon is assigned: droids are the future of public safety as well as countless other industries, and it would be foolish to be left behind.
MC: That is quite a lofty goal, Director: what about the displaced jobs from the increased automation? What will the union say?
LO: And to that, I say: what misplaced jobs? We aren't replacing our honored and beloved service members with droids, Melinda, we are simply supplementing our units with more droids to ensure that future gang assaults end with fewer HSD casualties and more gang members in prison or eliminated, simple as that.
MC: That makes much more sense, Director, thanks for clarifying. Now, I have one more question that I'm sure much of Halcyon wants to know the answer to before we take a short break: what plans do you and your fellow directors have to make long-term progress in reducing crime beyond just increasing funding? Have you proposed any plans to strike at the source of where crime and degeneracy flourish?
OL: That's an excellent question, and one I am proud to answer: my constituents and I have been working tirelessly on a two-step plan to greatly reduce crime levels in Halcyon. Step one would be to prevent people from becoming criminals and degenerates at all in the first place: a lot of young men and women, but especially young men, have lost either one or both parents or even a sibling, aunt or uncle, or even a close friend by the brutality of the Second Authority War, and while the service of their lost loved ones will always be recognized and honored, many of these young men and women are left bitter, angry and lost without the guidance these people give them in their lives. Oftentimes they seek to fill that void with others who claim to relate to them: career criminals. These criminals will fill their heads with lies and false narratives to make them feel like they're fighting back against the 'evil protectorate government' that took their loved ones from them by sending them off to war when in reality it was the rogue Xenopets of the Triarchy that took them away by resisting their just and inevitable unburdening.
In response, I have proposed a slew of special programs that will make sure local law enforcement and HSD officers are present and contributing to their local community, and we'll be providing easy and light job openings for youngsters and teens looking to make a career for themselves in the force when they grow up. We want to let these lost souls know that there are people who care about them, people who understand them and that you shouldn't turn to degeneracy to feel fulfilled. We want to help the youth of our great society soar to new heights!
MC: That sounds like a wonderful beginning to your plan, Director, but what about the second step?
LO: Well, the second step is to prevent criminals and degenerates from becoming repeat criminals. Sure, they've made their mistakes, some worse than others, but they're only human like the rest of us. Some of them have been through hell: some are traumatized veterans who don't know how to adapt to normal life, others were recruited when they were young and don't know that there's a better way to live, and even more are mentally ill. We're alone in this galaxy, and we can't leave so many people behind. That's why we've come up with an excellent solution: we've set up isolated communities on distant moons and frontier planets where these criminals can be reeducated, rehabilitated, and allowed to repay their debt to society. When they're deemed 'reformed' and have graduated from our program, they'll be granted a hefty stipend and their criminal record will be deemed irrelevant, allowing them to reintegrate and become functioning members of our proud society.
MC: all of these sound like incredible steps forward in the fight to better our society and make real progress, Director. Sadly, we do have to step away for a moment, but you best believe I'll be back, Halcyon, and we'll be asking the Director here some burning questions about allegations over the quality of life Erubus Supermax! Now, a word from our sponsors!
Halcyon Xenopet-Megaplex! Everything your xenopet could ever need in one place! Adoption is now free-
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Good, you’re still alive! The rest of this shard appears to be corrupted, which means this particular trail seems to have run cold here, but do not despair; you need to keep searching. Find out what happened. Find the truth.I cannot guide you any longer: they've already found me, and if I remain in contact with you they'll find you as well. Take the archival database, and see what you can piece together. Maybe if we discover what truly happened we can put an end to this madness once and for all. I'm counting on you. Don't cry for me, I don't fear death, but I fear what they'll do to me to get to you: there are far worse fates than death, after all.

So my account has been perma banned after playing the game from lunch and collecting pretty much every item in the game,reaching max lvl. So I was pissed when I got a notification that I was suspended so I emailed Bandai and found out that it isn’t a suspension it’s a complete ban I can’t even get an appeal for it so idk what’s next anymore for my shinobi strikers journey.
Abit more context I didn’t use any 3rd party to get cosmetics or use hacks or anything I’ve only ever played on PlayStation and clueless on how to do those things.
These are the emails I was sent(I couldn’t screenshot them so my bad)
1st email Thank you for contacting us. I am reaching out regarding your account restrictions in Naruto to Boruto: Shinobi Striker.
I am saddened to hear that your account was penalized.
As of October 2021, account restrictions have been applied for frequent disconnections from online matches and for using external software like Mods, Cheats, etc., which is a violation of the game's Terms of Service.
As a player myself, I understand that receiving penalties can be disappointing. However, we are taking this serious step to ensure all players enjoy the game and that there are no ways to take advantage of the situations or other players through unauthorized actions.
That said, if your account received restrictions for the abovementioned violations, I fear these restrictions are permanent. Still, you can continue playing the game offline.
I hope that this brings clarity to the situation.
If there is anything else we can help you with, or if you have any other questions, just let us know! Kind regards,
2nd email Thank you for your message. We understand your frustration and disappointment with the situation. We appreciate your dedication to the game and your support through purchasing DLCs and reaching the max level.
Your feedback regarding the presence of hackers and the issues with banning is important to us. We are constantly working to improve our system and ensure a fair gaming experience for all players.
While we cannot reverse the ban at this time, we will certainly take your comments into consideration as we continue to refine our processes.
Thank you for your understanding.
Best regards,
3rd email
Thank you for your reply.
I understand your frustration with the ban, and I'll ensure your feedback is forwarded to the appropriate team. We take reports of wrongful bans seriously and continuously work to improve our systems to ensure fair and accurate enforcement. While I cannot reverse the ban myself, I'll ensure your concerns are addressed internally.
Thank you for bringing this to our attention.
All the best,

Apologies for the absolutely insane number of words, got carried away trying to compensate for being slower than usual with my recap.
The cold open for the finale has a nice little parallel to the cold open in S1E2, which similarly has Deborah walk in to Marty who’s in a somewhat compromising position with his trainer to deliver good news, although in this case her news is something they both celebrate, rather than a win she uses to gloat over Marty
Even though she’s in a much less combative place with Marty, Deborah still isn’t willing to admit that she came over to tell him the news in person and insists that she’s only there to return the key, showing the limited extent to which she is willing to open up even to people she’s known for a long time.
Deborah and Marty doing the tango together to basically celebrate the news is quite cute and a fun way to kick off the episode
I do think it’s kind of sweet that Kathy is quite looking forward to Deborah’s visit, and J Smith Cameron plays up Kathy’s somewhat childlike excitement at this during the opening of the phone call
Nice to see Deborah making an effort to follow up after inviting Kathy for Christmas, committing to a sister’s weekend is a not insignificant step although it also becomes clear that she’s not 100% committed to it. Waiting for Kathy to call and then tell her there’s a change in plans instead of just straight up telling her isn’t a particularly nice thing to do
Deborah has a weird look on her face when Kathy brings up her parents at the mausoleum, which I initially thought was because she didn’t really like to reflect on the past, although on a rewatch it becomes clear it’s because she knows the truth about the mausoleum.
“She’s pivoting into being an adult” Found the way Kayla phrased this part of the child star to adult actor experience to be very funny. I guess the Bella Donaldson character is supposed to be a reference to people like Zendaya, Zac Efron and Selena Gomez (Cannes Best Actress winner!!???), Disney child stars who are trying to shed their past image and be taken as serious adult actors to varying degrees of success. Also the bit about getting awards buzz for an Aronofsky movie feels a bit like what happened/ was projected to happen with Sadie Sink and The Whale
Deborah watching her old Late Night tape and Ava seeing her do that is a nice callback to and reversal of S1E3, where it was Ava watching Deborah’s tape and discovering more about her past
I love Hannah Einbinder’s simple but sincere delivery of “I knew you would” as Ava, and the way Jean Smart lets just the tiniest smile play across Deborah’s lips in response to Ava’s belief in her
Ava being able to only write stuff for Deborah’s Late Night show and not any actual material of her own shows that even though it’s been a year plus since the S2 Finale she still has the same issue of Deborah being “the one with all the stories. What do I even have to say?”
Ava’s voice going up endearingly high when she says “This is gonna be amazing” is very cute, what a touching and lovely scene between Deborah and Ava showing the respect and admiration they have for each other. I’m sure that will continue for the rest of the finale!
How does a safe in the floor of the pool even work lol
Very fun comedy freaking out by Mark Indelicato as Damien, him becoming hysterical at the thought of becoming the new Marcus is hugely entertaining.
According to Hannah Einbinder and Jean Smart on Variety’s Award Circuit podcast, thy did shoot a scene for this episode where Marcus does tell Deborah that he’s leaving but it was cut from the episode. Honestly not sure what role Marcus will play next season and curious to see what the writers will do since it seems he’s going on a very different plotline than the rest of the show. If this was another show I’d say he’s being written out but from interviews and other behind the scenes material the cast and showrunners are fairly tight knit, so I’d imagine they’ll find a way which makes sense for Marcus to continue being around
Between this guest appearance as Bella Donaldson and the release of Lisa Frankenstein and Abigail, Kathryn Newton is quietly having a pretty cool 2024. She absolutely nails the passive-aggressive “nice” girl type that she’s asked to play here. Also the Zack and Cody mention is kind of neat since Newton starred along with Cole Sprouse in Lisa Frankenstein earlier this year, while the goat demon movie mentioned might possibly be a nod to Newton’s affinity for the horro horror adjacent genre?
Quite like this Jimmy/Kayla B plot, allows Meg Stalter to show a different/more emotional side to Kayla who’s usually just the very fun comedic relief. Her smiling nicely and trying to politely ward off Bella’s passive-aggressive “niceness” is such a deeply human character beat.
Deborah Margesson doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as Deborah Vance, so I guess that’s why she didn’t go back to her maiden name after the divorce.
Deborah moving her parent’s remains to Vegas and not telling Kathy for twenty plus years is absolutely deranged behaviour. “It was a corner plot” and “I used my art shipper!” are ridiculously bad responses to the situation, this being the last straw for Kathy is very understandable. Although in Deborah’s defence I guess the fact that she was willing to accompany Kathy to the mausoleum for what she knows to be a completely empty gesture is her deranged way of showing care for her sister and not wanting to hurt her feelings.
Also in hindsight Deborah lying to/not telling Kathy about their parents to avoid hurting her feelings and any conflict is good foreshadowing since that pretty much turns out to be what she does regarding Ava and the head writer job
Deborah’s look of absolute disdain/confusion after hearing the “going to the hardware store for milk” line is gold from Jean Smart
I think Kathy’s reaction to Deborah here and deciding that she’s had enough of her BS and not wanting to put herself through even more hurt in attempting to maintain a relationship is completely reasonable, really liked J Smith Cameron’s work here, as well as Jean Smart playing Deborah’s silent acceptance of this relationship blowing up yet again
Deborah standing alone in the mausoleum is a great shot
Kathy’s reaction to Deborah’s BS here serves as a great contrast to how Ava deals with Deborah’s BS later on in the episode, it truly takes someone special/equally deranged to want to continue being with Deborah despite all her flaws and the hurt she causes to those around her. To use some internet parlance, Kathy is unwilling to put up with Deborah’s freak, while Ava ends up being more than willing to match Deborah’s
Lewis Benton/ fake John Oliver’s line to Ava about her being the hardest-working person in the office is a nice reminder of how working with Deborah has changed Ava for the better in some ways by giving her a stronger work ethic
“Maybe our paths will cross again” Just speculating here, and maybe this would be too inside baseball of a storyline for a show that initially at least was about two people on the “outside” of the entertainment industry, but might there be a future storyline of Deborah competing against fake John Oliver for an Emmy? A recent Emmy rule change starting from the Emmys earlier this year means that Oliver no longer competes with the more traditional Late Night shows like Colbert, Kimmel, Meyers, The Daily Show etc prior to that this had been the case for the past ten or so years
Kayla being the funny one growing up as a defense mechanism against bullies like Bella is such a great character detail on the part of the writers, makes so much sense and explains so much about Kayla’s outlook and attitude
This conflict is so great because both Jimmy and Kayla do have a point. Obviously Jimmy standing up for Kayla who’s being bullied is a good thing for him to do as a friend, but Kayla’s also not wrong in feeling that Jimmy is kind of ignoring her work and being a bit patronising. Really liked how Meg Stalter plays Kayla’s hurt feelings in this scene, it’s a well-executed emotional beat for a generally comedic character. And this continues the throughline about whether Jimmy has what it takes/enough stones and guts to be in the business which was also seen in the back part of S2
Quite liked the scene between Deborah and Biff Cliff (what a name!), a pretty sobering reminder of the obstacles faced by women in entertainment and just how precarious making it in the business actually is, makes complete sense that it would spook Deborah to do what she does later on
I thought the Jimmy Page dating a 14 year old story was meant to be a jab and Jerry Seinfeld and his 17 year old girlfriend, but googled and found out that that was a true story too
I feel like the bit Ava has as a writer taking new headshots and the different treatment they receive compared to actors must be drawn from the real-life experiences of the writers/showrunners, it’s such a specific joke. That said I think if you asked a layperson to tell who’s a writer and who’s an actor from this Deadline photoshoot I think they’d be hard pressed to tell the difference (very complimentary).
Ava sharing her excitement over her “dream job” as head writer for Deborah with a random make-up artist is very endearing, and just makes what happens later on even more crushing
Deborah going to the exec meeting and slowly realising just how much is being invested in her is a great bit of reaction acting from Jean Smart, and further helps reinforce the pressure she’s under and explains her choices
Quite liked the scene of Deborah telling Ava that the network doesn’t want her as head writer, on first watch it seems like Deborah is just worried about how to break the bad news to Ava and let her down easy, but on rewatch it feels so obvious that Deborah is just lying through her teeth to Ava and struggling with it big time.
Jimmy’s “proposal” to Kayla on the plane is such a great comedic setpiece/skewing of the rom-con trope, everything from the overly-excited passenger who completely misreads the situation to Jimmy kneeling because the flight attendant says there’s no standing in the aisle is just perfect.
It’s also just a really good way to cap off the season long plot involving Jimmy and Kayla, we’ve seen throughout the season that they make a very good thing and that Kayla’s kind of a genius at this in her own unique way, very satisfying to see Jimmy finally recognise this and promote her. Jimmy and Kayla’s mentomentee relationship serves as a healthy contrast to Deborah and Ava,with Jimmy as a mentor who recognises the mentee’s contributions and is willing to make compromises (see his acceptance of Kayla’s three funny videos a day)
Jimmy’s voice going up absurdly high when he says “Leave us alone!!!” and “What is your deal” is fantastic comedic work from co-showrunner Paul W Downs, he’ll get Writing and Series Emmy nominations this year, but he should really be getting one for Supporting Actor too.
I guess if you want to nitpick you could say Ava running into Winnie is a very convenient thing to move the plot along, but I choose to look at is as a reminder that Ava has moved on up in the world since the end of S2 and is now at a place where she can get takeout from fancy places where a high-level network head might also dine
Ava’s look of betrayal and anger after realising that Deborah lied to her is great work from Hannah Einbinder
Deborah is reading a Churchill biography when Ava storms in
My god, Ava confronting Deborah is just a perfect perfect scene, the writing is so sharp and Jean Smart is fantastic at playing Deborah going into ice/hardened mode when being confronted, but what a tremendous performance by Hannah Einbinder. She just captures the mixture of betrayal, hurt and anger that Ava feels so naturally and powerfully
There’s so many callbacks and references to previous Deborah/Ava confrontations and scenes from across the show. Ava accusing Deborah of just doing the same thing is from their very first meeting S1E1 where she calls her a hack as well as from their argument in S1E10 when she calls her the same thing. The line about being “a shark or whatever” comes from S2E5 which is what Deborah’s retired comedian friend Susan describes her as, with Deborah later then telling Ava that “You’ve got to be a shark” at the end of S2E8. And Deborah’s advice to Ava to be ambitious and saying that she feels lonely when opening a champagne bottle comes from S3E5 (take that people who said the woods episode was pointless filler).
“You can be the woman behind the man behind the woman” What an unappealing job description, and also a sign of how far Ava has comes since the S2 finale when she was unwilling to take the credit for writing Deborah’s special. Now her time away from Deborah has allowed Ava the space to truly value herself, her achievements and be justifiably proud of them (she stresses her job at On The Contrary to Deborah back in S3E1 and stresses her co-producer role when in bed with Christina Hendricks in S3E6), and she’s no longer willing to accept this demotion and wants credit for her work.
“You’re already making decisions out of fear and you’ll keep doing it” A really cutting observation from Ava which completely nails what Deborah is doing, much like how she immediately clocks in S2E8 that Deborah is pushing her away because she’s afraid.
“It has to work. I’ve lost way too much for it not too” Deborah’s sentiment applies equally to Ava as it does to herself, and helps explain just why Ava would go to the the extremes she does later on
As much as the dialogue in the scene is great, this Deborah and Ava argument also hits hard because of the silent moments in between. The wordless ten seconds or so which rests entirely on Ava after Deborah says that she’s willing to lose her is just tremendous stuff from Hannah Einbinder, all the hurt plays across her face and Einbinder is simply terrific in making the audience feel the deep hurt and sense of betrayal of that moment
Ava saying that Deborah will die alone is something that Deborah has thought about before, saying back in S1E9 in her interview with a journalist that she accepts the truth that people leave the world completely alone and refuses to pretend otherwise
One Last Time - Deb’s Final Stand Up is the track which plays as the big Deborah/Ava argument scene closes out according to Shazam, with the track (that played in the S1 Finale) taking on a whole new meaning in this context. The soundtrack isn’t a big selling point of the show unlike something like say Succession, but the themes by Carlos Rafael Rivera are simple but always effective
Jimmy taking a selfie in his new office is quite cute, and him saying that he didn’t do it alone and comforting Ava at the end of this scene is a much needed nice beat after the intensity of the previous scene
“shows that already exist with one tiny tweak, or huge global hits” Honestly a pretty depressing but frankly accurate read of the current media/television landscape
Jimmy saying that he knows Ava will do the right thing brings to mind these Deborah lines to Ava from the previous episode “It’s so easy for you to say what’s right or wrong. It’s never that simple. One day you’ll understand that” Ava’s move of blackmailing to get Deborah to do right by her certainly falls into the “never that simple” category
Curious about the politics/legal behind the scenes stuff that needed to be cleared to have Deborah be the host of a CBS late night show in the world of Hacks, while Hacks the actual show is under Warner Bros. Discovery which does not own hacks. I guess in this universe Deborah gets the Late Late Show timeslot instead of Taylor Tomlinson with After Midnight
Deborah’s left Vegas but the vanity plate for her car will continue to follow her and be updated
Deborah excitedly taking a photo of her Host parking spot is very cute, but the beat immediately after when we see a hint of her being sad and uneasy/regretful is also great, she’s achieved her dream but at great personal cost, and has no one to share the photo and moment with
It’s been a central thesis of the show that Deborah and Ava are ultimately more alike than different despite their different ages, backgrounds etc. Even in S1E2 the antiques dealer says that Deborah and Ava are “the same” and are “both psychotic b*tches”, and in episode after episode we see just how alike they are. For example in S2E2 after Deborah finds out about the email she says that Ava is just like her, being equally cruel and selfish. Ava blackmailing her abusive boss so that she can continue to work with her is just a completely insane thing to do, and also very much something Deborah would do herself to help her career, as we saw back in S1E5 when Deborah blackmailed Marty to secure her dates at the Palmetto
This move also shows just how much Ava has learnt from Deborah and how much the student has learnt from the master. Ava takes Deborah’s advice from S2E8 to be a shark, and her advice from S3E5 to “concentrate on what’s best for you”. It’s also ends up becoming a twisted version of Ava saying that she won’t leave Deborah in that same episode too, with Ava resorting to blackmail to stay with Deborah. And Ava finally does what she said back in S2E8, which is that “I get to decide what’s best for me”. I love love love the layers to this show!
I love love love the cocky and slightly confident/smirking Ava that we get a brief glimpse of from this scene, coupled with the power suit she’s rocking it makes for such a satisfying moment as she gets one up over Deborah after being on the back foot previously
We’ve seen a different and more vulnerable side of Deborah this season in S3E5 and S3E7, and seen her be like a fangirl in S3E4, but this scene and her stepping up to Ava and slightly seething as she says “You wouldn’t” is a nice reminder that she can be absolutely terrifying when she wants to be
That tiny tiny little gulp that Hannah Einbinder does when/just after Ava says “I would” is so so good, Ava’s standing up to Deborah but Deborah is still one very scary person. Also really love her cocking her head to one side as she says “Wouldn’t you?”
This has already been pointed out on Twitter, but Deborah and Ava sitting apart in the writer’s room at the end is kind of like the pepper shakers which Deborah rearranged to be apart in S3E1. Also a nice contrast to S3E8 when they were sitting apart as Ava was reporting the journalist’s article to Deborah, even despite them sitting separately they were still very close emotionally, but now the physical distance between them is reflective of the division between them as friends/colleagues
Spoilers for Succession S2E10: This Hacks finale is very reminiscent of the Succession S2 Final This Is Not For Tears. In both episodes the older mentor who’s been trying to teach their protege/successor to be harder and tougher ends up being too good at their job and get betrayed by their mentee in a stunning rug pull moment, even though for much of the season it seems the mentee is perfectly content working undefor their mentor. It’s a plot twist that’s both completely shocking in the moment yet makes so much sense when looking back on the season and the series as a whole. And of course the finale ends on a shot of the older mentor as they take in what their mentee has done, with a mixture of anger but also just the slightest hint of pride and begrudging admiration
This final twist in the finale of Ava blackmailing Deborah is so so good and satisfying, does what great season finales do which is deliver a “twist” that feels like a gut punch initially but has actually been building over the season, and sets up a really juicy scenario/ status quo for next season
Ava blackmailing her way to head writer on Deborah’s show is such a juicy scenario to leave things for Season 4, Ava has never had power over Deborah like she does now and I’m personally very much looking forward to how that changes their dynamic next season
My only concern is that I do hope the Vegas aspect and the characters from that part of the Hacks universe don’t get left behind with the focus shifting to running a Late Night show. If there is something to ding this season of the show it’s that there’s not enough Kiki, I’m not smart enough to figure out how a Vegas casino dealer will be able to regularly show up in LA but I selfishly want the writers to figure that out because Poppy Liu is just too fun as Kiki to leave out. Also kind of curious as to how they’ll keep Marcus around since he’s now leaving Deborah’s QVC empire.
Overall a really really great season finale and a very strong season as a whole, easily the best Comedy of the year and one of the best shows of the year. Really rooting for the show to win big prizes at the Emmys later this year against the Bear although that will be tough, pulling hard for Jean Smart and Hannah Einbinder to win and for the show to at least win Writing if it can’t win for Comedy Series. Also would be very happy if Meg Stalter and Paul W Downs got their first-time noms this year, they were both great this season

I have been fired or disciplined for most of the jobs I’ve been hired for. I have either missed or been late to more than 90 days to school in my youth. I have always been a loner kid and didn’t have much friends or opportunity to socialize. Cheated most of my life which I stopped doing. Yet in my mid 20s I’m graduating with a bachelors in science which took 6 years (mostly due to my external situation, transitioning from high school to uni,homelessness/abuse) and I’m volunteering and trying to have discipline and make something of my life. My weakness I’m slow, can’t do labour(anemic). Strength I’m not dumb, I’m generally smart/average in class, and I can think critically. Now I have my receptionist job starting in 2 weeks, what advice do you have so I don’t mess this opportunity?
I first got fired when I was 17 for a high brand retail store even though their store policy was to hire 18 and above. They didn’t give me cashier training and would put me in positions where I had no idea what I was doing. I also took an hour bus to work. It was exhausting and I wasn’t ready for it both mentally and physically. They didn’t specify why I got fired but the day before they fired me, I was talking about a political matter with my coworker (they had an abortion and I was against it). I assume it was one of the reasons. Of course, I agree with them and it’s completely inappropriate to talk about things like this. Mind u I am a first gen poverty level immigrant at that time, whose parents were absent from raising me.
Second time I got fired for being slow, not using a lock for my locker (customer went to the back and stole my items), and overall carelessness. Justified firing.
Third time- Had a perfect evaluation by the end of my contract but disciplined on the last day when I told them a story about how the kids trusted me with their secrets but I got disciplined because I didn’t share what the kids told me to my supervisor about the abuse the kids had gone through in the past, which was policy taught even in training. My reasoning the supervisor had a very unapproachable demeanour and I had to even ask her to change the way she spoke to me.
Fourth time- Seen as a burden in my volunteering job as a pharmacy assistant for being incompetent and overdoing my limits (straight up telling the pharmacist how to make better profit..etc) just not controlling my mouth

I have been fired or disciplined for most of the jobs I’ve been hired for. I have either missed or been late to more than 90 days to school in my youth. I have always been a loner kid and didn’t have much friends or opportunity to socialize. Cheated most of my life which I stopped doing. Yet in my mid 20s I’m graduating with a bachelors in science which took 6 years (mostly due to my external situation, transitioning from high school to uni,homelessness/abuse) and I’m volunteering and trying to have discipline and make something of my life. My weakness I’m slow, can’t do labour(anemic). Strength I’m not dumb, I’m generally smart/average in class, and I can think critically. Now I have my receptionist job starting in 2 weeks, what advice do you have so I don’t mess this opportunity?
I first got fired when I was 17 for a high brand retail store even though their store policy was to hire 18 and above. They didn’t give me cashier training and would put me in positions where I had no idea what I was doing. I also took an hour bus to work. It was exhausting and I wasn’t ready for it both mentally and physically. They didn’t specify why I got fired but the day before they fired me, I was talking about a political matter with my coworker (they had an abortion and I was against it). I assume it was one of the reasons. Of course, I agree with them and it’s completely inappropriate to talk about things like this. Mind u I am a first gen poverty level immigrant at that time, whose parents were absent from raising me.
Second time I got fired for being slow, not using a lock for my locker (customer went to the back and stole my items), and overall carelessness. Justified firing.
Third time- Had a perfect evaluation by the end of my contract but disciplined on the last day when I told them a story about how the kids trusted me with their secrets but I got disciplined because I didn’t share what the kids told me to my supervisor about the abuse the kids had gone through in the past, which was policy taught even in training. My reasoning the supervisor had a very unapproachable demeanour and I had to even ask her to change the way she spoke to me.
Fourth time- Seen as a burden in my volunteering job as a pharmacy assistant for being incompetent and overdoing my limits (straight up telling the pharmacist how to make better profit..etc) just not controlling my mouth

I have been fired or disciplined for most of the jobs I’ve been hired for. I have either missed or been late to more than 90 days to school in my youth. I have always been a loner kid and didn’t have much friends or opportunity to socialize. Cheated most of my life which I stopped doing. Yet in my mid 20s I’m graduating with a bachelors in science which took 6 years (mostly due to my external situation, transitioning from high school to uni,homelessness/abuse) and I’m volunteering and trying to have discipline and make something of my life. My weakness I’m slow, can’t do labour(anemic). Strength I’m not dumb, I’m generally smart/average in class, and I can think critically. Now I have my receptionist job starting in 2 weeks, what advice do you have so I don’t mess this opportunity?
I first got fired when I was 17 for a high brand retail store even though their store policy was to hire 18 and above. They didn’t give me cashier training and would put me in positions where I had no idea what I was doing. I also took an hour bus to work. It was exhausting and I wasn’t ready for it both mentally and physically. They didn’t specify why I got fired but the day before they fired me, I was talking about a political matter with my coworker (they had an abortion and I was against it). I assume it was one of the reasons. Of course, I agree with them and it’s completely inappropriate to talk about things like this. Mind u I am a first gen poverty level immigrant at that time, whose parents were absent from raising me.
Second time I got fired for being slow, not using a lock for my locker (customer went to the back and stole my items), and overall carelessness. Justified firing.
Third time- Had a perfect evaluation by the end of my contract but disciplined on the last day when I told them a story about how the kids trusted me with their secrets but I got disciplined because I didn’t share what the kids told me to my supervisor about the abuse the kids had gone through in the past, which was policy taught even in training. My reasoning the supervisor had a very unapproachable demeanour and I had to even ask her to change the way she spoke to me.
Fourth time- Seen as a burden in my volunteering job as a pharmacy assistant for being incompetent and overdoing my limits (straight up telling the pharmacist how to make better profit..etc) just not controlling my mouth

I have been fired or disciplined for most of the jobs I’ve been hired for. I have either missed or been late to more than 90 days to school in my youth. I have always been a loner kid and didn’t have much friends or opportunity to socialize. Cheated most of my life which I stopped doing. Yet in my mid 20s I’m graduating with a bachelors in science which took 6 years (mostly due to my external situation, transitioning from high school to uni,homelessness/abuse) and I’m volunteering and trying to have discipline and make something of my life. My weakness I’m slow, can’t do labour(anemic). Strength I’m not dumb, I’m generally smart/average in class, and I can think critically. Now I have my receptionist job starting in 2 weeks, what advice do you have so I don’t mess this opportunity?
I first got fired when I was 17 for a high brand retail store even though their store policy was to hire 18 and above. They didn’t give me cashier training and would put me in positions where I had no idea what I was doing. I also took an hour bus to work. It was exhausting and I wasn’t ready for it both mentally and physically. They didn’t specify why I got fired but the day before they fired me, I was talking about a political matter with my coworker (they had an abortion and I was against it). I assume it was one of the reasons. Of course, I agree with them and it’s completely inappropriate to talk about things like this. Mind u I am a first gen poverty level immigrant at that time, whose parents were absent from raising me.
Second time I got fired for being slow, not using a lock for my locker (customer went to the back and stole my items), and overall carelessness. Justified firing.
Third time- Had a perfect evaluation by the end of my contract but disciplined on the last day when I told them a story about how the kids trusted me with their secrets but I got disciplined because I didn’t share what the kids told me to my supervisor about the abuse the kids had gone through in the past, which was policy taught even in training. My reasoning the supervisor had a very unapproachable demeanour and I had to even ask her to change the way she spoke to me.
Fourth time- Seen as a burden in my volunteering job as a pharmacy assistant for being incompetent and overdoing my limits (straight up telling the pharmacist how to make better profit..etc) just not controlling my mouth

(SPELLING ERRORS AHEAD AND ALSO NO PUNCTUATION SORRY IN ADVANCE) i (17m) am just so angry at my dad cuz he makes promises and doesn't go through with them like he'll say oh let's go do something then he'll just stop responding. i just don't feel like caring about it but feelings just don't disappear like that ill give examples of how he'll just not do anything and just forget about me or cancel plans he said he was going to pick me up and take me to a family Christmas thing the whole month of November hyping me up about it then nothing. he also said he was going to give me something Christmas but i hit him up Christmas day told him merry Christmas also i sent him my Cash app then nothing radio silence then i sent again once the 26th and 27th of December nothing. i let that go. i cried about it all night while my mom held me and it wasn't about not getting anything it was the fact i never got a text back or even get acknowledged like he posted a picture on Facebook of him and his other 2 sons ( not my mom's kids ) and captioned merry Christmas from my children and didn't even give us a merry Christmas or nothing i just feel like I'm not cared about or I'm not even a thought in his head. i just graduated maybe 1 week ago and 2 weeks before that he said he wanted to go and my mom told him the time and the day of graduation it got moved up 2 hours and my mom sent him a text notifying him 2 hours before and then his brother sent him and text too so i didn't worry about it. and then later on when graduation ends and everyone gets on the field what do i see not my dad. and not even a congratulation text or a drop by my house afterwards nothing not even a good job text nothing. but that day i had a feeling about him not showing up so i didn't really feel anything about it but the sad fact about that is the fact my sister's fiance's mom showed up only meeting me 2 times and gave me a card with writing telling me I'm going to do great things which is so sweet of her. but he never gives me anything heartfelt or anything. and the crazy thing is i don't want much i just want to be loved and just treated like a son i just want a hug or even a I'm proud of you that would genuinely make me so happy or even a text every 2 months checking on me anything. and from what i know he spends a lot of time with my other 2 brothers i went to Facebook its so many pictures with them and everything but none of me. i just want to cry and curl up into a ball. i forgot to mention i texted him the day after graduation cuz he told me he was going to give me something the day i graduated and i wanted to know if i was going to get it cuz i was starting college soon but now i really am not in the right head space to go cuz I'm not stable enough but back to it i sent text saying this verbatim " hey i know u weren't at graduation the least u can do is as a gift give me 500 cause I'm starting college soon" i know it sounds insensitive as flip but after 10 years of someone not being an active father what do u expect and also he told me if i needed anything to text him and the fact I'm dealing with this at 7 and up should grant me the reason to speak to him any way i want pretty much. and then he called me and i didn't answer cuz my phone was on do not disturb then i called him back to him yelling at me telling me not to talk to him like that. i was in the car with my mom when this happened so i just put him on speaker phone he was saying things like " DONT SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT UR BLOCKING UR BLESSING AND JUST DONT SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT" and i was like i understand a lil bit then he gave me a bullshit excuse of "oh i never have my phone on me that's why i didn't notice." then he told me he had something for me to get. so that brings me to today 5/31 1 week after graduation and i text him "when do u want me to come pick it up?" (whatever he had for me) and no response and so i give him 1 hour while I'm getting a haircut and other things then i pull up to his restaurant and go in and try to talk to him but it was busy so eh. then i ask him again at 7 cuz what if he's not busy cuz he's closed and no response then i get off work and i go to the store and see his car then he sees me and doesn't talk and i just walk away cuz I'm hurt and i just bac in my moms car and I'm sad and mad then i get home and start writing this not going to lie all i wanna do is cry cuz why do i get treated like this. i guess what makes me sad is the fact he wasn't always like this after his mom died/my grandma he started acting like this but that was 10 years ago and the sad fact is she would not have stood for him treating me like this and i know that has a big impact on people but i am also his son what makes me so bad and worse than the other sons cuz he always spends time with them and also i forgot to mention I'm gay but it isn't a issue for him i hope but if that's the case he hasn't make a big deal out of it but he said he doesn't care and supports me but i don't know that's his issue but i have a loving family already i just want to let him go I've wrote in my google docs 2 letters i want to give him but yea. sorry for rambling and no type of periods or anything ion feel like editing thank you for listening or even responding

It's hard to say what exactly separates the seedy underbelly of Seattle from the middle and upper-class neighborhoods. There are just as many drones flying overhead and crawling underfoot, just as many signs in meatspace and augmented reality advertising all manner of good times, just as many colorful astral sights to see for the magically active folk who can see them. The differences are subtle, but still noticeable if you know how to look.
Perhaps it's the way people look at you as though they're either planning to mug you or defend themselves in case you feel like mugging them. Perhaps it's the abundance of flickering lights and generally janky infrastructure all around, giving many things the look of being not entirely up to code or legally constructed. Perhaps it's the feeling that you're out from under the constant watch of the powers that be, for better and for worse.
People who know the shadows know that anything and anyone can be found there, for the right price and after some hard looking. Need a street-doc to dig a Ruger Super Warhawk bullet out of your shoulder off the books? Need a decker to leak your cheating ex's naughty pictures all over the local grid? Need a street-mage to skip the drugs and cast a spell directly stimulating the pleasure center of your brain? Need an armored ork with a shotgun to kick in a door somewhere and pump the guy who stole your girlfriend full of buckshot? You can find all those things and more on the streets, chummer, if you know where and how to look, and if you can pay the fee that might not always be a simple nuyen transaction.
As your path begins turning you down the darker streets, and into the places where concerned upper-class parents warn their dopey college kids to stay far away from, the locals can all tell you're not from around here. A rat shaman takes a peek at your aura and isn't all that impressed, a decker scans your devices and decides your comlink isn't worth the bother of hacking, an armored ork with a shotgun sizes you up and goes back to his monster-sized burger at the street kitchen, deciding you're as much a threat to him as an itchy pair of underwear. They know at a glance you're not from around here, but most simply don't care. It's hardly a rare occurrence that someone from "out of town" wanders in; most are simply looking for someplace else, in which case they simply wander back out again, looking for business or pleasure, in which case they find it and move on when their errand is finished, or looking for trouble, in which case they end up shot, stabbed, burned, bruised, drained of astral lifeforce, or with a thin stream of blue smoke coming from their ear where a bricked piece of cranial cyberware once resided. Sometimes all at once, and sometimes with even more...creative ends.
But you're on a mission, you're looking for the next phase of your life. Any long-time denizen of the shadows will tell you that there comes a time in all their lives when they have to pack up the past, store it all away in the attic where their memories go, and start fresh with a clean slate and hopefully some lessons learned. That's what's got you in the sketchy side of town this evening. The only question left is who you are now.
Are you an addict whose money ran dry and who's starting to spiral into darker vices? A sprawl ganger who wants to prove himself and start climbing up the food chain? A mage looking for a place to begin practicing the forbidden sides of magic? A newbie hacker who dug too deep one day and now needs stronger protection than the cheap firewall program on her deck and the taser under her pillow? The choice is yours where you start, and the choice is yours where you go from here. But you can always be sure of one thing....
The shadows can be the best or the worst thing to happen to you, but one way or another, it's going to be one hell of a ride.
[...]
Hi there! Thanks for reading :D
If anyone here is familiar with the Shadowrun world or has any interest in the hints I've given about it, then this story is for you. You don't need to already be familiar with Shadowrun to take part, I'll happily answer whatever questions I can for anyone who doesn't already know them but has an interest.
I'd like to do a story about someone not from the shadows having/wanting to uproot their former life and transition into the life offered by the sketchy criminal underworld. Ideally, I'd like it to be long-term since there's rarely a dull day in the life of someone from the shadows and there are all kinds of interesting stories to weave from that basic thread. I'm a big fan of "found family" and "honor among thieves" vibes, maybe we could do something with that?
If anyone is curious, I'm male, 25 years of age, and from the EST time zone. I've been roleplaying for about half my life and playing Shadowrun for 6 or 7 years, so while I'm not a grandmaster of either, I think I know enough about both to create an awesome story with someone who wants to work with me. I'd be happy to send a writing sample to anyone who wants to verify that for themselves.
I want my partner to be 18+ since there can be some dark things that happen in the shadows, and I'd like my partner to be at least semi-literate, but otherwise, I'm more or less open to anyone! Come one come all; if you're interested in this prompt, then I'm interested in talking more with you about it. I can't address every detail or question someone might have in this post, so if you have any questions or comments, PM me here and I'll be glad to answer them.
I hope to hear from you soon! :D. And remember:
Watch your back, shoot straight, conserve ammo, and never...
...EVER...
make a deal with a dragon.

Welcome to this month's Personal Accountability Thread! The purpose of these threads is to encourage people to set de-cluttering and/or cleaning and/or therapeutic goals for themselves for the month.
Participation in the monthly Accountability Threads is TOTALLY VOLUNTARY. You don't have to participate in these threads if you don't want to. I only ask that if you do participate, you post under the Reddit account that you use for this sub, as the whole point of this thread is to be accountable.
SPECIAL NOTES

• Are you under eighteen? Check out the MyCOHP Online Peer Support Group for Minors and Youth at MyCOHP.com. This is a group specifically for minors who live in hoarded homes.
• Are you facing an urgent situation and need to clean up by a deadline? Please see So It's Come To This: You Have To Clean Up For Inspection--A Guide for Apartment Dwellers Who Hoard for guidelines on getting rid of the worst of your interior hoard in time for an inspection.
• Maybe you've decided to discuss your hoarding tendencies with a health professional. If so, take a look at the U.K. Hoarding Icebreaker Form. Though certain information on this form is specific to people living in the United Kingdom, in general this is a fantastic resource for anyone having a hard time talking about hoarding disorder with a medical professional. This form can be used by someone who lives with the urge to hoard, or someone who lives in a hoarding situation.

Here's how it works:
1, The Accountability threads are for hoarders, recovering hoarders, and those of us working to manage our hoarding tendencies. 1. Set your own goal and announce it on this post with a comment. 1. Set your own time frame to meet that goal within the month (for example: "I plan to spend ten minutes cleaning up the kitchen counter by Thursday next" or "I'm taking this pile of donate-able items to Goodwill on January 10th" or even "Before the month is out, I'm going to talk to my SO about my clutter and why I think I do it."). 1. Feel free to make follow-up comments in this thread. You're also free to make separate posts with the UPDATE/PROGRESS flair. * Please report back with your results within the month--that's the accountability part. 1. If you need advice or support as you work towards your goal, please post to hoarding--maybe we can help! 1. Also, don't forget to check the Wiki for helpful resources. 1. If you don't meet goal, post that, and try to provide a little analysis to figure out what kept you from meeting it. Maybe some of us can provide advice to help you over the hump next time. 1. If you meet goal, please share what worked for you! 1. Do yourself a favor, and START SMALL. You didn't get into this mess overnight, and you won't get out of it overnight. Rome wasn't built in a day. This is a marathon, not a sprint. Etc., etc.--my point is, it's admirable if you want to sail in and tackle it all at once, but that's a very, very tough thing to do, and not a recommended strategy. Big successes are built on top of little ones, so focus on the things you can do in under a few minutes. 1. Every time you accomplish something, take a moment to celebrate doing it. :) 1. Finally, PRACTICE SELF CARE. This is so important, guys. Give yourself permission to put your healing first. Quiet the voice that is telling you to do more and be more. Acknowledge that you’re doing the best you can, and it’s enough. And remember: looking out for yourself is not lazy or selfish! Self-care is necessary, important, and healthy! PRACTICE SELF-CARE!
How to get started setting goals? Recommended places to get ideas for goals:

• Unfuck Your Habitat. Their Weekly Challenges are a great place to find goals, as are their Basic Cleaning Lists. And if you have a smartphone, be sure to check out their mobile app, available for iPhone and for Android phones.
• Flylady.net and her 31 Beginner Baby Steps.
• PersonalOrganizing.About.com: How to Declutter Your Entire Home Going Room by Room - Declutter Your Home Room-by-Room at Your Own Pace.
• 40 Bags in 40 Days De-Cluttering Challenge: 40 Bags in 40 Days is a forty day period where you declutter one area a day. The official challenge runs annually and coincides with the 40 days of Lent, but some people find it useful to schedule the challenges for themselves during other times of the year. See here for details on the 2023 challenge.

Looking for a Decluttering Plan with a Deadline to Motivate You?

• The annual Lenten 40 Bags in 40 Days Decluttering Challenge (see below) started on Feb. 22nd, 2023. You can jump in and join it at anytime, or start it on your own date.
• One blog launched the 365 Items in 365 Days Challenge. Learn more about that here.
• There's many other 30 Day Decluttering/Cleaning Challenges floating around the internet. Find one that works for you!
• Does the thought of cleaning up in 30 days make you break out in a cold sweat? Take a look at the Slow and Steady Decluttering Method
• Want to jump in with both feet? Consider the Shock Treatment Declutter Method

You can also use phone apps to encourage you to tidy up:

• As mentioned, UfYH has apps for both the iPhone (listed as "Unfilth Your Habitat" to get around the iTunes naming rules) and Android
• Chorma - iPhone only. The app is specifically designed to help you split chores with the other person or persons living in the home. If you live with somebody and want to divvy up chores, definitely check it out.
• Tody - For iPhone and Android. VERY comprehensive approach to cleaning.
• HomeRoutines - AFAICT, this app is iPhone only. Again, android users should check out Chore Checklist (which is also available for iPhone) and FlyLady Plus (which is from hoarding favorite Flylady). These two apps are very routine-focused, and may help you with getting into the habit of cleaning.
• Habitica turns your habits into an RPG. Perform tasks to help your party slay dragons! If you don't do your chores, then a crowd of people lose hit points and could die and lose gear! For iPhone and Android. There's a subreddit for people using the app: habitrpg (since the name change, there's also habitica but it doesn't seem very active).

Finally, if anyone has any suggestions for improving the Accountability Threads, please let the mods know. Just shoot us a PM.
Good luck, everybody!

Most of you have no clue the shit you are in for. You want to lie and cheat at all things but you will face the judgment you deserve in due time. Don't ip hack me but I know alot of things that are to come. I literally watched the world think there smart but only feed off of answers others give them. You were guided you have gotten greedy. You think you are in control but you are not. People like me love u, we try to understand you but all it takes is some of us to set it down just for a second and you will tear each other to apart and lose yourselves. Going dark would be intriguing to see how u do at that point. There are great people who protect you. Why should they ungrateful, snobs, entitled for sacrifices we have given because we want it for you, your ignorance is tiresome and will see how u do when we shut it off have fun when u don't have the knowledge u need.