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Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | He stood at the edge of the street, the "mighty" precipice before him holding him back the way the edge of the Grand Canyon might. 18 inches between him and the crosswalk. 18 inches between him and the sweet release of death. Some asshole had turned the streets into rivers of infested blood or some childish nonsense that, barring the grace of god bringing some far less intelligent nerd towards Magnus, one wielding a runed-sword, shooting fireballs out their hand or whatever the hell the giant moth in the distance was doing, was about as close to salvation as the man could get, assuming the river of blood was as versed in death as it seemed. Unfortunately, 18 inches was still too far for the man, by exactly 18 inches.
Just as all hope seemed lost, a small cadre of skateboarders started to come closer in the distance. Maybe one of them would be kind enough to push him in? Only, how could he possibly tell them what he wanted?
"Hey look! A knight!" Tony Hawk yelled with his distinct bro-like twang. The other Tony Hawks laughed in unison, their attempts to belittle the despondent man a failure, due to one large inadequacy in this taunt: Magnus was not a knight at all. He would have told them their folly if not for two things: One, the fact that he had no mouth or vocal chords, or basically anything else you could possibly use to converse. Two, their noisy approach drew the ire of the equally silent pyramid-faced man in a nearby alley. Even a shut in like Magnus knew not to mess with anything with a pyramid for a head; he didn't need to see the 10 foot long sword the creature pulled behind it to know that, though it certainly hammered the point home. One swing bifurcated each of the flock of Hawks, and the creature turned towards the immobile man.
Verbally, Magnus said nothing. He wanted to scream. He wanted to turn and run. Neither could he do in his current predicament, so he just sat, hoping that maybe this new friend with his giant old knife would cut him in half too and end everything. That, is when I, panting and overheating, finally caught up with the poor man.
"Magnus Carlsen, famous chess player. Form of," I took a strained breath, sucking in air like a pornstar, "a pawn it looks like?"
"How did you know?" the chess master thought to himself, but loud enough for someone like me to hear perfectly fine.
"Oh, I can read minds."
"A sad little man like you?" Magnus thought again, incredulous that I could read his mind.
"Don't be incredulous friend, I can indeed hear you. Well, technically I can SEE you. Through you. I can see through everything" I said with a grin. "That means both physical things and mental things, hence reading minds. I can see through that..." as I spoke, I pointed around, first to the pyramid-headed monster, appropriately named Pyramid-head.
"And that.." my finger swiveled to the top of the giant white pawn in front of me, the last piece Mr. Carlsen must have been using before the Event.
"And.." I started to swivel once more, this time towards the giant moth in the sky, someone who had clearly been playing a Godzilla videogame hours earlier. A billboard of a famous actress crossed my gaze and my trajectory waved for a moment. Crimson-faced, I tried to play it cool and act like a bug was in my eye.
"And what?" Magnus queried inaudibly, thankfully unable to turn around, due to being a chess piece at the moment, and make the simple deduction a man of his mental fortitude would surely construct: that I had just been staring at the most wonderful pair of titties.
"Bug in my eye, and not the giant Mothera in the distance either," I declared a little too loudly. Before you start calling me a creep, particularly for using the word titties, please keep in mind that in my current...preDICKament..I am unable to avoid any chance I can to come off sleezy. My innuendo game has been on point, but at what cost?
"Wait, nevermind, I get it" Magnus thought. I thought 'shit' back, but only one of use could read minds. "You saw that old Jessica Alba billboard back there, didn't you."
"Of course you kept track of your surroundings, fuckin' chess masters." I did not mean to say that aloud.
"Yea, and since you said you can see through everything, you must have been able to see through her clothes too. Does that mean you can see me naked too?" People always have to rain on my parade.
"Yes, I could, but I don't. First, you have nothing for me to look at right now, being a chess piece."
Before I could get to the rest of my explanation, I was interrupted, "So you already tried to look at me naked then?" When it rains it pours.
We were getting dangerously off topic for someone trying to coax someone else from an edge, I having been reading the chess grandmaster's mind since I first saw him in the distance, my little legs not letting me run fast enough to get there before the skateboarders had died; my own inadequacies shining through.
"Full disclosure: I mod videogames to be more adult oriented. I was working on what amounts to the double chocolate fu- fu- fudge of modding when the first Event happened," I spoke to the man, still a pawn, in a whisper for no reason at all. The stutter, my mind trying to power through my tongue's attempt to defile the word fudge, caused me to speak recklessly.
"The first?" Magnus thought, my slip of the tongue of course being caught, indiscreetly marked by my cringe, by someone as discerning as a Grandmaster. No way could I tell such a greenhorn that these occurrences had been going on for decades. He was smart, but he probably wasn't as versed in adult videogames as I was, so it was likely safe to change the subject by disclosing my name.
"The name's Larry. Leisure Suit Larry." My characters name, not my own, but until I find a way to get myself out of this digital body I might as well enjoy the preDICKament's perks. I sighed, the emphasis not entirely my own. "I am tasked with registering those of us who become Gamed during an Event, my ability to see through anything being particularly helpful in such a process."
"does that mean you know why I can't move?" Carlsen asked, a tingle of hope that was likely self-imposed, as I have found thought has no inflection. Of course the answer was "yes," but the answer might not be what the man wanted to hear.
"You were playing a top-down 2-D game. This is less of a problem than it use- than it could be, 2D games not being as popular as they once were, but apparently the laws of the planes of existence from whence you are transmogrified determines your body's ability to function in this..realm?" I find it easier to not use terms like realm and planes of existence and just live and let live, but the words bestow me with an unearned air of knowledge, a helpful advantage in my line of work. "That is to say, You can go forward and backwards and left and right, but not up or down. You don't function in three dimensions effectively. Also, because you are a chess piece, you can't go backwards apparently."
"Actually, many chess pieces can go backwards. I just happen to be a pawn," Magnus corrected me like a totally jerk. He was right though, and this knowledge could prove helpful, as it indicated that the rules of chess were likely as much a part of his situation as the fact moving in 2D disallowed him to move up or down inclines.
Checkers was more my style, but I had a fledgling understanding of chess and a thought came to me. I grabbed the giant Pawn and swung him like a great hammer, far lighter than I had imagined him to be. Upon letting go, the piece flew across the street. When his small pale body landed on the other side, an incandescent light shot into the sky and I turned away on reaction. When I turned back, the pawn was no longer there, replaced by a larger, more stately looking chess piece.
"I turned into a queen! This is amazing!" While Magnus Carlsen trembled with joy, much the way a double amputee does the first time he puts on his running prosthetic, I trembled for another reason: my mind was desperately telling my tongue to not say a damned word. It failed.... | So... I'm a girl..
Shocker I know alright? I mean allot of people are what I am. You just wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at me. I mean I still got some female parts,not that those were ever big and noticeable to begin with but at least they didn't disappear like most of my hair did. I got reddish eyes now too which is cool tough sometimes they turn to boring brown, I don't know what triggers it.
Haven't had my period since this all started either. Mayby that was something the creators left out? I should have played another game.
"No, that is where you're wrong!"
I should have denied this opportunity.
But I guess silly me didn't think of all the things that could go wrong. Silly me didn't realise the protagonist in the last game I played was THIS annoying. I think I just thought it was just another spam notification, and I guess it kinda was. 'you have been given the chance of a lifetime! Join L.I.F.E' I didn't even get the chance to choose the game I wanted, I just had to sign in with my steam account and I would receive something in the next 2 to 5 days. The hangman gambit that I had to mentally do to guess what it was should have been a warning.
I didn't receive anything yet.
Mayby it was just all a weird joke or mayby I am just having a very realistic dream or something. I just feel like I'm being watched all the time.
The fact that my next door neighbor is growing a mustache all of the sudden and randomly yells this joyful laughter doesn't help either.
Damn I need to sleep
Or mayby I just have to wake up
I don't know anymore... |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | They mocked me. Laughed at me. Of course I had to be the one who played Cities:Skylines last. My superpower? The amazing ability to cut through government red tape and expedite municipal construction projects.
For the first time, parks were being built, streets were being paved, and businesses were moving in, all on time and on budget. I could even terraform to a limited degree. If I lowered the terrain in the area I would have to raise it elsewhere. I only had a limited amount of dirt I could keep suspended in my pocket universe you see.
I had complete dictatorial control of the city. Taxes went up and down as I wished. I raised taxes temporarily to generate huge influxes of cash so often I lost count, and I had no elections to fear.
But the others laughed. "Have fun with your budgets!" They'd say, sneering. But little did they know I'd have the last laugh. A lot of them still drove. Their characters weren't superheroes, not most of them. Imagine their surprise when I showed up to their city and started redirecting lanes. The look on solid snake's face when I directed his turn lane to the far lane on the highway so everybody had to cut across three lanes. He sat there, inching his way forward, starting listfully at the clear, open lane he found himself utterly unable to use. It was like the car was on a set of tracks.
I did it to them all. They wouldn't have laughed at me had they known I had installed the traffic manager mod. | So... I'm a girl..
Shocker I know alright? I mean allot of people are what I am. You just wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at me. I mean I still got some female parts,not that those were ever big and noticeable to begin with but at least they didn't disappear like most of my hair did. I got reddish eyes now too which is cool tough sometimes they turn to boring brown, I don't know what triggers it.
Haven't had my period since this all started either. Mayby that was something the creators left out? I should have played another game.
"No, that is where you're wrong!"
I should have denied this opportunity.
But I guess silly me didn't think of all the things that could go wrong. Silly me didn't realise the protagonist in the last game I played was THIS annoying. I think I just thought it was just another spam notification, and I guess it kinda was. 'you have been given the chance of a lifetime! Join L.I.F.E' I didn't even get the chance to choose the game I wanted, I just had to sign in with my steam account and I would receive something in the next 2 to 5 days. The hangman gambit that I had to mentally do to guess what it was should have been a warning.
I didn't receive anything yet.
Mayby it was just all a weird joke or mayby I am just having a very realistic dream or something. I just feel like I'm being watched all the time.
The fact that my next door neighbor is growing a mustache all of the sudden and randomly yells this joyful laughter doesn't help either.
Damn I need to sleep
Or mayby I just have to wake up
I don't know anymore... |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | You know, in hindsight, I shouldn’t complain, but you know.
I really want to.
When the “Lottery” happened, many individuals got ultra powerful, well, powers, at their disposal. Practically gods in their own right. Others were just excellent marksmen, builders, soldiers, bartenders, others monsters, behemoths, and creatures from the depths of hell and the ocean floor.
Me, on the other hand.
I had recently installed an old childhood game of mine that had been remade. Or rather, Rewritten. See, I loved Toontown as a kid, and played it quite a bit, and recently, I got back into playing it. And well, here I am. Some normal guy, with the powers and abilities of a Toon.
Can’t say it’s all bad, the teleportation power is nice, along with basically invulnerability, and not to mention all the other crazy stuff I could just pull from nowhere. But at the same time, when someone finds out you got the powers of the toon, they want a show.
More accurately, the “gods” of this world want to see just what they can do to you. See, Toontown toons are the “squash and stretch” variety. We can be pulled apart, blown up, sliced in half, lose limbs, and everything, but always be put back together just fine. It gets annoying however, when you’re just walking around town, and Link wannabe goes “HYA” and cuts you in half, and you have to grab your legs before they run off on their own. It’s frustrating to say the least.
But hey, I really can’t complain.
I can do the same thing to them. | So... I'm a girl..
Shocker I know alright? I mean allot of people are what I am. You just wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at me. I mean I still got some female parts,not that those were ever big and noticeable to begin with but at least they didn't disappear like most of my hair did. I got reddish eyes now too which is cool tough sometimes they turn to boring brown, I don't know what triggers it.
Haven't had my period since this all started either. Mayby that was something the creators left out? I should have played another game.
"No, that is where you're wrong!"
I should have denied this opportunity.
But I guess silly me didn't think of all the things that could go wrong. Silly me didn't realise the protagonist in the last game I played was THIS annoying. I think I just thought it was just another spam notification, and I guess it kinda was. 'you have been given the chance of a lifetime! Join L.I.F.E' I didn't even get the chance to choose the game I wanted, I just had to sign in with my steam account and I would receive something in the next 2 to 5 days. The hangman gambit that I had to mentally do to guess what it was should have been a warning.
I didn't receive anything yet.
Mayby it was just all a weird joke or mayby I am just having a very realistic dream or something. I just feel like I'm being watched all the time.
The fact that my next door neighbor is growing a mustache all of the sudden and randomly yells this joyful laughter doesn't help either.
Damn I need to sleep
Or mayby I just have to wake up
I don't know anymore... |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | So... I'm a girl..
Shocker I know alright? I mean allot of people are what I am. You just wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at me. I mean I still got some female parts,not that those were ever big and noticeable to begin with but at least they didn't disappear like most of my hair did. I got reddish eyes now too which is cool tough sometimes they turn to boring brown, I don't know what triggers it.
Haven't had my period since this all started either. Mayby that was something the creators left out? I should have played another game.
"No, that is where you're wrong!"
I should have denied this opportunity.
But I guess silly me didn't think of all the things that could go wrong. Silly me didn't realise the protagonist in the last game I played was THIS annoying. I think I just thought it was just another spam notification, and I guess it kinda was. 'you have been given the chance of a lifetime! Join L.I.F.E' I didn't even get the chance to choose the game I wanted, I just had to sign in with my steam account and I would receive something in the next 2 to 5 days. The hangman gambit that I had to mentally do to guess what it was should have been a warning.
I didn't receive anything yet.
Mayby it was just all a weird joke or mayby I am just having a very realistic dream or something. I just feel like I'm being watched all the time.
The fact that my next door neighbor is growing a mustache all of the sudden and randomly yells this joyful laughter doesn't help either.
Damn I need to sleep
Or mayby I just have to wake up
I don't know anymore... |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | So... I'm a girl..
Shocker I know alright? I mean allot of people are what I am. You just wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at me. I mean I still got some female parts,not that those were ever big and noticeable to begin with but at least they didn't disappear like most of my hair did. I got reddish eyes now too which is cool tough sometimes they turn to boring brown, I don't know what triggers it.
Haven't had my period since this all started either. Mayby that was something the creators left out? I should have played another game.
"No, that is where you're wrong!"
I should have denied this opportunity.
But I guess silly me didn't think of all the things that could go wrong. Silly me didn't realise the protagonist in the last game I played was THIS annoying. I think I just thought it was just another spam notification, and I guess it kinda was. 'you have been given the chance of a lifetime! Join L.I.F.E' I didn't even get the chance to choose the game I wanted, I just had to sign in with my steam account and I would receive something in the next 2 to 5 days. The hangman gambit that I had to mentally do to guess what it was should have been a warning.
I didn't receive anything yet.
Mayby it was just all a weird joke or mayby I am just having a very realistic dream or something. I just feel like I'm being watched all the time.
The fact that my next door neighbor is growing a mustache all of the sudden and randomly yells this joyful laughter doesn't help either.
Damn I need to sleep
Or mayby I just have to wake up
I don't know anymore... |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | So... I'm a girl..
Shocker I know alright? I mean allot of people are what I am. You just wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at me. I mean I still got some female parts,not that those were ever big and noticeable to begin with but at least they didn't disappear like most of my hair did. I got reddish eyes now too which is cool tough sometimes they turn to boring brown, I don't know what triggers it.
Haven't had my period since this all started either. Mayby that was something the creators left out? I should have played another game.
"No, that is where you're wrong!"
I should have denied this opportunity.
But I guess silly me didn't think of all the things that could go wrong. Silly me didn't realise the protagonist in the last game I played was THIS annoying. I think I just thought it was just another spam notification, and I guess it kinda was. 'you have been given the chance of a lifetime! Join L.I.F.E' I didn't even get the chance to choose the game I wanted, I just had to sign in with my steam account and I would receive something in the next 2 to 5 days. The hangman gambit that I had to mentally do to guess what it was should have been a warning.
I didn't receive anything yet.
Mayby it was just all a weird joke or mayby I am just having a very realistic dream or something. I just feel like I'm being watched all the time.
The fact that my next door neighbor is growing a mustache all of the sudden and randomly yells this joyful laughter doesn't help either.
Damn I need to sleep
Or mayby I just have to wake up
I don't know anymore... |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | No one knew how a virus could spread like it did, ignoring firewalls and anti-virus programs. Scientists were furious that someone had apparently figured out how to make hacking in NCIS, Bones, CSI, and other forensic dramas into reality. Everyone who was affected, though, was thrilled, because the day the virus spread through the internet was the day that death no longer became permanent. Everyone respawned, though some faster than others. It was the day that superheroes were born.
Or, rather, they liked to think of themselves as superheroes. Some people call them trolls...others call them mingebags. Really, they were just the stereotypical movie depiction of a jock or a Chad, except they were now powerful enough to really force their will on other people and get away with it.
Some people had been playing sports games, and so the sports industry had quadrupled in size. Being able to perform the exact same super-powered kick every time was quite an advantage in football, for instance.
However, most people I knew of with powers basically turned into super-soldiers overnight. Being able to run as fast as a car, jump higher than they were tall, and, most importantly, never run out of bullets, they patrolled the cities in gangs, shooting anyone who didn't give them the godly praise they craved.
Other people had been playing fantasy games, and so were able to fight with magic or shouts. Others had been playing different kinds of shooters, and so had the occasional extra ability, like a double jump or grappling hook. Some people were literal superheroes, like Spider-Man, but these weren't nearly as common.
The MMORPGers should have been a major threat to the trolls, but even in real life, they spent most of their time doing quests and fighting raids against other MMORPGs. World of Warcraft staged a huge war against Final Fantasy XIV and Final Fantasy XI while Star Trek Online and EVE Online fought gigantic space battles.
Warframe players were some of the most powerful individuals, but as to be expected, spent most of their time gathering thousands of resources for a single new weapon that they only used for a short time before beginning the grind again.
No one talked about the Diablo and Path of Exile players, who were almost as depressing as the Dark Souls players. All of them should have been overjoyed at the sheer amount of abilities that they had suddenly gained, but they thought the world was full of death and pain and suffering, and spent the majority of their time trudging through the streets in silence or waiting in therapists' offices.
As could have been expected, many thousands were playing Minecraft. While they weren't quite as powerful as some, when they appeared, they did so in great numbers. They could demolish and rebuild a city in a single night, carry nearly 50,000 metric tons of materials, and, most importantly, punch trees into oblivion. Unfortunately, they often spent their time punching each other into oblivion or building houses out of dirt. For some reason, having the ability to build almost anything tended to lead people to do the same five things over and over again.
All of my friends had gotten into into Fortnight and Apex Legends. I'd never had any interest in either, having spent most of my time playing simulation games or sandbox games. I enjoyed building things and being creative. I didn't like competition or shooters, and lost 20-to-1 every time I tried to play them.
After the virus, though, I began to change.
People said my powers were stupid because of what other people did with them. People said that I was a kid for enjoying playing by myself. People said I was pathetic and boring. People thought I was nothing compared to their infinite bullets or giant space ships, or space ninja powers.
But I would show them. For while I had been playing Minecraft like many other people, I had also been playing with mods. One particular mod in particular, which was particularly interesting. One full of intrigue and secrets, one that allowed me to play with the very building blocks of matter and energy...through magic and science.
One that had the potential to outshine everyone else. One that had the power to pull that which should have been unknowable into reality. One that would bring me to the deepest, darkest recesses of the universe. One that would allow me to see things that should have been unseen...
...
...
...
For I had been playing Thaumcraft.
...
...
...
...
...I ͞w̵o̸u͟ld sho͡w th҉em.̀ Ḭ̰͔̥̱̳̗̊̿͆̅ͫ ͚̜͉̬̯̼́̾̓̃̏̏̈́̕w̢̦͓͖̣̺̰ͭ̌͐ͩͨ̾̔ȍ̴͔̪̻̻̯͓̟̇̃u̙̗̪ͪ̈́̊l͎͙͚̩̫ͥd҉͙̬͔̱̠ ̠̘̲̼̖̒ͭͫs̉̀̏̃h̨̠̯̼͍̠̦̅̒̔ͣo͈̬̼ͥ͂́͒̈́ͪw̜̫̘̿ͮ͠ tͯ̌̒ͯ͐̚҉͙͕̰̲̜̲͕̲͟h͍̜̬͖̼̩̟͖͆͑̐̔̎͗͒͜e̷̝̘̺̹̟̳͇̳ͯͫ́̉͊͌̕͜m̫̗̟̯̺̲̰̘̊̆̽͋ͭ̚ ą̢͉̬̥͕̗͍̣̜̐ͧ̔ͣ̈̒̈͗ͭ̀͘͠l̞̤̱̗̩̤͕͉̱̠͖̝̙͍̺̜̟ͪ̓ͨͭ͢͡l̾̔̇̽͑̆͂͒̆ͫ̏̎ͩ͐҉̢͔̝̮͚͈͖̝̲́. | Some people became near gods. Flying, running at the speed of light. Some people could shoot elecricity from their fingertips.
The news went from boring politics one day, to men and women crackling with electric energy fighting in the streets.
After the dust settled, and the really bad guys guys were dead, and the good guys were banding together into teams.
no one even knew I had powers...
the day it happened, when everything went nuts. When the electric storm raged through the world, and my eighbor got the ability to leap over tall buildings in a single bound, I just sat there.
I just stood there with a strange new tool in my hand.
I kept it hidden. It was in the back of my closet, wrapped in old towels. I knew that if people saw it. They'd know what my true powers were.
Everyone thinks that my powers a simple superstrength. That i can just punch things and they break. I laugh and tell them I was playing dig dug.
People laugh about my powers. There are so many better ones, people say.
I just chuckle along, with a self depriciating way. It's best for them not to know about what's in my closet.
If they knew about the diamond pickaxe, and that i was in creative mode when i was using it. They'd be very very scared. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | Some people became near gods. Flying, running at the speed of light. Some people could shoot elecricity from their fingertips.
The news went from boring politics one day, to men and women crackling with electric energy fighting in the streets.
After the dust settled, and the really bad guys guys were dead, and the good guys were banding together into teams.
no one even knew I had powers...
the day it happened, when everything went nuts. When the electric storm raged through the world, and my eighbor got the ability to leap over tall buildings in a single bound, I just sat there.
I just stood there with a strange new tool in my hand.
I kept it hidden. It was in the back of my closet, wrapped in old towels. I knew that if people saw it. They'd know what my true powers were.
Everyone thinks that my powers a simple superstrength. That i can just punch things and they break. I laugh and tell them I was playing dig dug.
People laugh about my powers. There are so many better ones, people say.
I just chuckle along, with a self depriciating way. It's best for them not to know about what's in my closet.
If they knew about the diamond pickaxe, and that i was in creative mode when i was using it. They'd be very very scared. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | Some people became near gods. Flying, running at the speed of light. Some people could shoot elecricity from their fingertips.
The news went from boring politics one day, to men and women crackling with electric energy fighting in the streets.
After the dust settled, and the really bad guys guys were dead, and the good guys were banding together into teams.
no one even knew I had powers...
the day it happened, when everything went nuts. When the electric storm raged through the world, and my eighbor got the ability to leap over tall buildings in a single bound, I just sat there.
I just stood there with a strange new tool in my hand.
I kept it hidden. It was in the back of my closet, wrapped in old towels. I knew that if people saw it. They'd know what my true powers were.
Everyone thinks that my powers a simple superstrength. That i can just punch things and they break. I laugh and tell them I was playing dig dug.
People laugh about my powers. There are so many better ones, people say.
I just chuckle along, with a self depriciating way. It's best for them not to know about what's in my closet.
If they knew about the diamond pickaxe, and that i was in creative mode when i was using it. They'd be very very scared. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | Some people became near gods. Flying, running at the speed of light. Some people could shoot elecricity from their fingertips.
The news went from boring politics one day, to men and women crackling with electric energy fighting in the streets.
After the dust settled, and the really bad guys guys were dead, and the good guys were banding together into teams.
no one even knew I had powers...
the day it happened, when everything went nuts. When the electric storm raged through the world, and my eighbor got the ability to leap over tall buildings in a single bound, I just sat there.
I just stood there with a strange new tool in my hand.
I kept it hidden. It was in the back of my closet, wrapped in old towels. I knew that if people saw it. They'd know what my true powers were.
Everyone thinks that my powers a simple superstrength. That i can just punch things and they break. I laugh and tell them I was playing dig dug.
People laugh about my powers. There are so many better ones, people say.
I just chuckle along, with a self depriciating way. It's best for them not to know about what's in my closet.
If they knew about the diamond pickaxe, and that i was in creative mode when i was using it. They'd be very very scared. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | No one knew how a virus could spread like it did, ignoring firewalls and anti-virus programs. Scientists were furious that someone had apparently figured out how to make hacking in NCIS, Bones, CSI, and other forensic dramas into reality. Everyone who was affected, though, was thrilled, because the day the virus spread through the internet was the day that death no longer became permanent. Everyone respawned, though some faster than others. It was the day that superheroes were born.
Or, rather, they liked to think of themselves as superheroes. Some people call them trolls...others call them mingebags. Really, they were just the stereotypical movie depiction of a jock or a Chad, except they were now powerful enough to really force their will on other people and get away with it.
Some people had been playing sports games, and so the sports industry had quadrupled in size. Being able to perform the exact same super-powered kick every time was quite an advantage in football, for instance.
However, most people I knew of with powers basically turned into super-soldiers overnight. Being able to run as fast as a car, jump higher than they were tall, and, most importantly, never run out of bullets, they patrolled the cities in gangs, shooting anyone who didn't give them the godly praise they craved.
Other people had been playing fantasy games, and so were able to fight with magic or shouts. Others had been playing different kinds of shooters, and so had the occasional extra ability, like a double jump or grappling hook. Some people were literal superheroes, like Spider-Man, but these weren't nearly as common.
The MMORPGers should have been a major threat to the trolls, but even in real life, they spent most of their time doing quests and fighting raids against other MMORPGs. World of Warcraft staged a huge war against Final Fantasy XIV and Final Fantasy XI while Star Trek Online and EVE Online fought gigantic space battles.
Warframe players were some of the most powerful individuals, but as to be expected, spent most of their time gathering thousands of resources for a single new weapon that they only used for a short time before beginning the grind again.
No one talked about the Diablo and Path of Exile players, who were almost as depressing as the Dark Souls players. All of them should have been overjoyed at the sheer amount of abilities that they had suddenly gained, but they thought the world was full of death and pain and suffering, and spent the majority of their time trudging through the streets in silence or waiting in therapists' offices.
As could have been expected, many thousands were playing Minecraft. While they weren't quite as powerful as some, when they appeared, they did so in great numbers. They could demolish and rebuild a city in a single night, carry nearly 50,000 metric tons of materials, and, most importantly, punch trees into oblivion. Unfortunately, they often spent their time punching each other into oblivion or building houses out of dirt. For some reason, having the ability to build almost anything tended to lead people to do the same five things over and over again.
All of my friends had gotten into into Fortnight and Apex Legends. I'd never had any interest in either, having spent most of my time playing simulation games or sandbox games. I enjoyed building things and being creative. I didn't like competition or shooters, and lost 20-to-1 every time I tried to play them.
After the virus, though, I began to change.
People said my powers were stupid because of what other people did with them. People said that I was a kid for enjoying playing by myself. People said I was pathetic and boring. People thought I was nothing compared to their infinite bullets or giant space ships, or space ninja powers.
But I would show them. For while I had been playing Minecraft like many other people, I had also been playing with mods. One particular mod in particular, which was particularly interesting. One full of intrigue and secrets, one that allowed me to play with the very building blocks of matter and energy...through magic and science.
One that had the potential to outshine everyone else. One that had the power to pull that which should have been unknowable into reality. One that would bring me to the deepest, darkest recesses of the universe. One that would allow me to see things that should have been unseen...
...
...
...
For I had been playing Thaumcraft.
...
...
...
...
...I ͞w̵o̸u͟ld sho͡w th҉em.̀ Ḭ̰͔̥̱̳̗̊̿͆̅ͫ ͚̜͉̬̯̼́̾̓̃̏̏̈́̕w̢̦͓͖̣̺̰ͭ̌͐ͩͨ̾̔ȍ̴͔̪̻̻̯͓̟̇̃u̙̗̪ͪ̈́̊l͎͙͚̩̫ͥd҉͙̬͔̱̠ ̠̘̲̼̖̒ͭͫs̉̀̏̃h̨̠̯̼͍̠̦̅̒̔ͣo͈̬̼ͥ͂́͒̈́ͪw̜̫̘̿ͮ͠ tͯ̌̒ͯ͐̚҉͙͕̰̲̜̲͕̲͟h͍̜̬͖̼̩̟͖͆͑̐̔̎͗͒͜e̷̝̘̺̹̟̳͇̳ͯͫ́̉͊͌̕͜m̫̗̟̯̺̲̰̘̊̆̽͋ͭ̚ ą̢͉̬̥͕̗͍̣̜̐ͧ̔ͣ̈̒̈͗ͭ̀͘͠l̞̤̱̗̩̤͕͉̱̠͖̝̙͍̺̜̟ͪ̓ͨͭ͢͡l̾̔̇̽͑̆͂͒̆ͫ̏̎ͩ͐҉̢͔̝̮͚͈͖̝̲́. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | No one knew how a virus could spread like it did, ignoring firewalls and anti-virus programs. Scientists were furious that someone had apparently figured out how to make hacking in NCIS, Bones, CSI, and other forensic dramas into reality. Everyone who was affected, though, was thrilled, because the day the virus spread through the internet was the day that death no longer became permanent. Everyone respawned, though some faster than others. It was the day that superheroes were born.
Or, rather, they liked to think of themselves as superheroes. Some people call them trolls...others call them mingebags. Really, they were just the stereotypical movie depiction of a jock or a Chad, except they were now powerful enough to really force their will on other people and get away with it.
Some people had been playing sports games, and so the sports industry had quadrupled in size. Being able to perform the exact same super-powered kick every time was quite an advantage in football, for instance.
However, most people I knew of with powers basically turned into super-soldiers overnight. Being able to run as fast as a car, jump higher than they were tall, and, most importantly, never run out of bullets, they patrolled the cities in gangs, shooting anyone who didn't give them the godly praise they craved.
Other people had been playing fantasy games, and so were able to fight with magic or shouts. Others had been playing different kinds of shooters, and so had the occasional extra ability, like a double jump or grappling hook. Some people were literal superheroes, like Spider-Man, but these weren't nearly as common.
The MMORPGers should have been a major threat to the trolls, but even in real life, they spent most of their time doing quests and fighting raids against other MMORPGs. World of Warcraft staged a huge war against Final Fantasy XIV and Final Fantasy XI while Star Trek Online and EVE Online fought gigantic space battles.
Warframe players were some of the most powerful individuals, but as to be expected, spent most of their time gathering thousands of resources for a single new weapon that they only used for a short time before beginning the grind again.
No one talked about the Diablo and Path of Exile players, who were almost as depressing as the Dark Souls players. All of them should have been overjoyed at the sheer amount of abilities that they had suddenly gained, but they thought the world was full of death and pain and suffering, and spent the majority of their time trudging through the streets in silence or waiting in therapists' offices.
As could have been expected, many thousands were playing Minecraft. While they weren't quite as powerful as some, when they appeared, they did so in great numbers. They could demolish and rebuild a city in a single night, carry nearly 50,000 metric tons of materials, and, most importantly, punch trees into oblivion. Unfortunately, they often spent their time punching each other into oblivion or building houses out of dirt. For some reason, having the ability to build almost anything tended to lead people to do the same five things over and over again.
All of my friends had gotten into into Fortnight and Apex Legends. I'd never had any interest in either, having spent most of my time playing simulation games or sandbox games. I enjoyed building things and being creative. I didn't like competition or shooters, and lost 20-to-1 every time I tried to play them.
After the virus, though, I began to change.
People said my powers were stupid because of what other people did with them. People said that I was a kid for enjoying playing by myself. People said I was pathetic and boring. People thought I was nothing compared to their infinite bullets or giant space ships, or space ninja powers.
But I would show them. For while I had been playing Minecraft like many other people, I had also been playing with mods. One particular mod in particular, which was particularly interesting. One full of intrigue and secrets, one that allowed me to play with the very building blocks of matter and energy...through magic and science.
One that had the potential to outshine everyone else. One that had the power to pull that which should have been unknowable into reality. One that would bring me to the deepest, darkest recesses of the universe. One that would allow me to see things that should have been unseen...
...
...
...
For I had been playing Thaumcraft.
...
...
...
...
...I ͞w̵o̸u͟ld sho͡w th҉em.̀ Ḭ̰͔̥̱̳̗̊̿͆̅ͫ ͚̜͉̬̯̼́̾̓̃̏̏̈́̕w̢̦͓͖̣̺̰ͭ̌͐ͩͨ̾̔ȍ̴͔̪̻̻̯͓̟̇̃u̙̗̪ͪ̈́̊l͎͙͚̩̫ͥd҉͙̬͔̱̠ ̠̘̲̼̖̒ͭͫs̉̀̏̃h̨̠̯̼͍̠̦̅̒̔ͣo͈̬̼ͥ͂́͒̈́ͪw̜̫̘̿ͮ͠ tͯ̌̒ͯ͐̚҉͙͕̰̲̜̲͕̲͟h͍̜̬͖̼̩̟͖͆͑̐̔̎͗͒͜e̷̝̘̺̹̟̳͇̳ͯͫ́̉͊͌̕͜m̫̗̟̯̺̲̰̘̊̆̽͋ͭ̚ ą̢͉̬̥͕̗͍̣̜̐ͧ̔ͣ̈̒̈͗ͭ̀͘͠l̞̤̱̗̩̤͕͉̱̠͖̝̙͍̺̜̟ͪ̓ͨͭ͢͡l̾̔̇̽͑̆͂͒̆ͫ̏̎ͩ͐҉̢͔̝̮͚͈͖̝̲́. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | No one knew how a virus could spread like it did, ignoring firewalls and anti-virus programs. Scientists were furious that someone had apparently figured out how to make hacking in NCIS, Bones, CSI, and other forensic dramas into reality. Everyone who was affected, though, was thrilled, because the day the virus spread through the internet was the day that death no longer became permanent. Everyone respawned, though some faster than others. It was the day that superheroes were born.
Or, rather, they liked to think of themselves as superheroes. Some people call them trolls...others call them mingebags. Really, they were just the stereotypical movie depiction of a jock or a Chad, except they were now powerful enough to really force their will on other people and get away with it.
Some people had been playing sports games, and so the sports industry had quadrupled in size. Being able to perform the exact same super-powered kick every time was quite an advantage in football, for instance.
However, most people I knew of with powers basically turned into super-soldiers overnight. Being able to run as fast as a car, jump higher than they were tall, and, most importantly, never run out of bullets, they patrolled the cities in gangs, shooting anyone who didn't give them the godly praise they craved.
Other people had been playing fantasy games, and so were able to fight with magic or shouts. Others had been playing different kinds of shooters, and so had the occasional extra ability, like a double jump or grappling hook. Some people were literal superheroes, like Spider-Man, but these weren't nearly as common.
The MMORPGers should have been a major threat to the trolls, but even in real life, they spent most of their time doing quests and fighting raids against other MMORPGs. World of Warcraft staged a huge war against Final Fantasy XIV and Final Fantasy XI while Star Trek Online and EVE Online fought gigantic space battles.
Warframe players were some of the most powerful individuals, but as to be expected, spent most of their time gathering thousands of resources for a single new weapon that they only used for a short time before beginning the grind again.
No one talked about the Diablo and Path of Exile players, who were almost as depressing as the Dark Souls players. All of them should have been overjoyed at the sheer amount of abilities that they had suddenly gained, but they thought the world was full of death and pain and suffering, and spent the majority of their time trudging through the streets in silence or waiting in therapists' offices.
As could have been expected, many thousands were playing Minecraft. While they weren't quite as powerful as some, when they appeared, they did so in great numbers. They could demolish and rebuild a city in a single night, carry nearly 50,000 metric tons of materials, and, most importantly, punch trees into oblivion. Unfortunately, they often spent their time punching each other into oblivion or building houses out of dirt. For some reason, having the ability to build almost anything tended to lead people to do the same five things over and over again.
All of my friends had gotten into into Fortnight and Apex Legends. I'd never had any interest in either, having spent most of my time playing simulation games or sandbox games. I enjoyed building things and being creative. I didn't like competition or shooters, and lost 20-to-1 every time I tried to play them.
After the virus, though, I began to change.
People said my powers were stupid because of what other people did with them. People said that I was a kid for enjoying playing by myself. People said I was pathetic and boring. People thought I was nothing compared to their infinite bullets or giant space ships, or space ninja powers.
But I would show them. For while I had been playing Minecraft like many other people, I had also been playing with mods. One particular mod in particular, which was particularly interesting. One full of intrigue and secrets, one that allowed me to play with the very building blocks of matter and energy...through magic and science.
One that had the potential to outshine everyone else. One that had the power to pull that which should have been unknowable into reality. One that would bring me to the deepest, darkest recesses of the universe. One that would allow me to see things that should have been unseen...
...
...
...
For I had been playing Thaumcraft.
...
...
...
...
...I ͞w̵o̸u͟ld sho͡w th҉em.̀ Ḭ̰͔̥̱̳̗̊̿͆̅ͫ ͚̜͉̬̯̼́̾̓̃̏̏̈́̕w̢̦͓͖̣̺̰ͭ̌͐ͩͨ̾̔ȍ̴͔̪̻̻̯͓̟̇̃u̙̗̪ͪ̈́̊l͎͙͚̩̫ͥd҉͙̬͔̱̠ ̠̘̲̼̖̒ͭͫs̉̀̏̃h̨̠̯̼͍̠̦̅̒̔ͣo͈̬̼ͥ͂́͒̈́ͪw̜̫̘̿ͮ͠ tͯ̌̒ͯ͐̚҉͙͕̰̲̜̲͕̲͟h͍̜̬͖̼̩̟͖͆͑̐̔̎͗͒͜e̷̝̘̺̹̟̳͇̳ͯͫ́̉͊͌̕͜m̫̗̟̯̺̲̰̘̊̆̽͋ͭ̚ ą̢͉̬̥͕̗͍̣̜̐ͧ̔ͣ̈̒̈͗ͭ̀͘͠l̞̤̱̗̩̤͕͉̱̠͖̝̙͍̺̜̟ͪ̓ͨͭ͢͡l̾̔̇̽͑̆͂͒̆ͫ̏̎ͩ͐҉̢͔̝̮͚͈͖̝̲́. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | So here’s the sitch: I totally do play video games. And no, I’m not one of those r/notliketheothergirls who insists I’m the only girl who games, or that I should receive all the sexual admiration for it. I’ve dabbled in just about everything - FPS, MMORPG, VR, PC, console, mobile, puzzles, survival, capture/collect, simulator, zombie, satire, first- second- and third-person open-world, linear, racing. Club Penguin. Any genre you name, I’ve probably tried it. Not any game, but any genre.
So sue me if I’m partial to pastoral games. As if you never spent hours of your time creating the perfect face or the perfect house or the perfect life for some imaginary person. It’s addicting to be able to control just about every aspect, especially if you tweak the settings and gameplay options so you can reverse any negative unforeseen happenings that would bring chaos to your perfect little world.
The thing is, when the Catalyst happened, I wasn’t just playing one game. I actually had two computers - my laptop and my old family desktop - running two different games. I know this sounds silly, but I really wanted to continue the epic saga I’d begun in The Sims 2 when I was in high school, now that I had finally downloaded The Sims 4. I skipped 3 because the drastic change in gameplay had been too much for me at the time. But after watching countless YouTubers take a crack at it, I was finally ready to give it another chance. Just, not without my OG family.
Upfront, I don’t mod. I don’t know how, and frankly I’m scared to try. The last time I messed with the source code on anything, I ended up destroying my computer. So, no mods for me. It’s cool for other people to, and I’ll admit I laugh every time cabbages rain from the sky as Thomas the Tank Engine careens toward Solitude. But I’m afraid if I touch it, I’ll break it. And then my husband will break me (not really; he’s very kind).
Now, I may not mod, but I also haven’t played Sims 2 without cheats enabled since I first installed the game. I don’t really know the cheat codes for Sims 4, yet, but I’m content to play it on vanilla for now. I mean, I was. I kinda haven’t touched it since that night.
When everybody else started getting their powers, I was convinced I had been skipped over. I mean, what kind of powers do Sims have, anyway? My husband, bless him, had been playing Mass Effect: Andromeda. Now he can interface with his own personal AI, and has a lot of cool abilities with electronics and the like. It certainly helped get us out of our financial situation. That is, until I discovered what had been done to me.
I don’t know how to explain to you exactly how unsettling it is to be sitting on a toilet when suddenly *POOF* confetti erupts around you. I definitely didn’t fall off the seat, but only because of the cramped space around the pot. I don’t know if I thought it was the ceiling collapsing, or that I was hallucinating, but it didn’t take more than a couple days to realize I was pregnant. A few days later, and I was a certifiable balloon.
Newscasters and reporters were too busy with all the rest of the fallout to take note of me and my sudden predicament. In fact, the one journalist I did get in contact with laughed me off the phone.
Luckily, my body was already a wasteland from years of inactivity and poor maintenance. I basically laid in bed for the duration of my pregnancy - a whopping week and a half. Then, I was fine. I popped right up and started taking care of my new baby. But she didn’t stay my baby for long. And she also didn’t stay alone. It seems that birth control isn’t a thing in the Sims: you woohoo for baby, you get a baby (eventually). Only irl, I didn’t have the ability to decide whether I wanted to get pregnant or not. If I had sex, there was a greater than 50% chance I’d get pregnant. And I like having sex with my husband. I’m sure you see where this is going.
Now, I’m literally a baby-making machine, minus the metal parts. And since they are the product of what can only be described as magical fuckery, my brood of children has amassed into an army. That dumbass reporter really wishes she’d spoken to me now.
Because of my specific circumstances, I’m also able to summon Death literally any time I want. And since we are best friends, Death will do my bidding if I ask nicely. Mostly I just ask Death to make sure my colony of offspring have room to grow, to thrive, and to make their own families. And also to spare me whenever I do something stupid, which I do quite a lot now that I’m basically invulnerable. Mauled by an animal? Ctrl+Shift+C maxmotives. Get hit by a car? Same thing! Am I worn out and exhausted? maxmotives, baby!
I don’t sleep except to dream. I have gotten so much done since realizing my powers, and I’ve only scratched the surface of my potential. I discovered I can make a living selling designer babies - especially since I don’t *have to* have sex to make a baby, and I can literally make a baby with anyone. You want Orlando Bloom’s kid? No problem. Kristin Bell? I can do it in my sleep! And recently I discovered that I don’t actually have to wait the full week and a half to get the baby; I can Speed Up Pregnancy with nothing more than the desire! It takes maybe a day after that, although it is quite an ordeal. My husband is actually quite pissed at me, because we haven’t had sex in weeks since I made the discovery. But I think once I take a break from my new business, I’ll get back in his good graces with minimal effort. After all, I can afford literally anything he wants just by shouting, “motherlode!” But that annoyingly causes inflation, so I don’t do it often anymore.
I gotta go now. Chris Hemsworth Jr. #7 is getting ready to claw his way out, and I need to have both hands free to brace myself for the birth. Toodles! |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | So here’s the sitch: I totally do play video games. And no, I’m not one of those r/notliketheothergirls who insists I’m the only girl who games, or that I should receive all the sexual admiration for it. I’ve dabbled in just about everything - FPS, MMORPG, VR, PC, console, mobile, puzzles, survival, capture/collect, simulator, zombie, satire, first- second- and third-person open-world, linear, racing. Club Penguin. Any genre you name, I’ve probably tried it. Not any game, but any genre.
So sue me if I’m partial to pastoral games. As if you never spent hours of your time creating the perfect face or the perfect house or the perfect life for some imaginary person. It’s addicting to be able to control just about every aspect, especially if you tweak the settings and gameplay options so you can reverse any negative unforeseen happenings that would bring chaos to your perfect little world.
The thing is, when the Catalyst happened, I wasn’t just playing one game. I actually had two computers - my laptop and my old family desktop - running two different games. I know this sounds silly, but I really wanted to continue the epic saga I’d begun in The Sims 2 when I was in high school, now that I had finally downloaded The Sims 4. I skipped 3 because the drastic change in gameplay had been too much for me at the time. But after watching countless YouTubers take a crack at it, I was finally ready to give it another chance. Just, not without my OG family.
Upfront, I don’t mod. I don’t know how, and frankly I’m scared to try. The last time I messed with the source code on anything, I ended up destroying my computer. So, no mods for me. It’s cool for other people to, and I’ll admit I laugh every time cabbages rain from the sky as Thomas the Tank Engine careens toward Solitude. But I’m afraid if I touch it, I’ll break it. And then my husband will break me (not really; he’s very kind).
Now, I may not mod, but I also haven’t played Sims 2 without cheats enabled since I first installed the game. I don’t really know the cheat codes for Sims 4, yet, but I’m content to play it on vanilla for now. I mean, I was. I kinda haven’t touched it since that night.
When everybody else started getting their powers, I was convinced I had been skipped over. I mean, what kind of powers do Sims have, anyway? My husband, bless him, had been playing Mass Effect: Andromeda. Now he can interface with his own personal AI, and has a lot of cool abilities with electronics and the like. It certainly helped get us out of our financial situation. That is, until I discovered what had been done to me.
I don’t know how to explain to you exactly how unsettling it is to be sitting on a toilet when suddenly *POOF* confetti erupts around you. I definitely didn’t fall off the seat, but only because of the cramped space around the pot. I don’t know if I thought it was the ceiling collapsing, or that I was hallucinating, but it didn’t take more than a couple days to realize I was pregnant. A few days later, and I was a certifiable balloon.
Newscasters and reporters were too busy with all the rest of the fallout to take note of me and my sudden predicament. In fact, the one journalist I did get in contact with laughed me off the phone.
Luckily, my body was already a wasteland from years of inactivity and poor maintenance. I basically laid in bed for the duration of my pregnancy - a whopping week and a half. Then, I was fine. I popped right up and started taking care of my new baby. But she didn’t stay my baby for long. And she also didn’t stay alone. It seems that birth control isn’t a thing in the Sims: you woohoo for baby, you get a baby (eventually). Only irl, I didn’t have the ability to decide whether I wanted to get pregnant or not. If I had sex, there was a greater than 50% chance I’d get pregnant. And I like having sex with my husband. I’m sure you see where this is going.
Now, I’m literally a baby-making machine, minus the metal parts. And since they are the product of what can only be described as magical fuckery, my brood of children has amassed into an army. That dumbass reporter really wishes she’d spoken to me now.
Because of my specific circumstances, I’m also able to summon Death literally any time I want. And since we are best friends, Death will do my bidding if I ask nicely. Mostly I just ask Death to make sure my colony of offspring have room to grow, to thrive, and to make their own families. And also to spare me whenever I do something stupid, which I do quite a lot now that I’m basically invulnerable. Mauled by an animal? Ctrl+Shift+C maxmotives. Get hit by a car? Same thing! Am I worn out and exhausted? maxmotives, baby!
I don’t sleep except to dream. I have gotten so much done since realizing my powers, and I’ve only scratched the surface of my potential. I discovered I can make a living selling designer babies - especially since I don’t *have to* have sex to make a baby, and I can literally make a baby with anyone. You want Orlando Bloom’s kid? No problem. Kristin Bell? I can do it in my sleep! And recently I discovered that I don’t actually have to wait the full week and a half to get the baby; I can Speed Up Pregnancy with nothing more than the desire! It takes maybe a day after that, although it is quite an ordeal. My husband is actually quite pissed at me, because we haven’t had sex in weeks since I made the discovery. But I think once I take a break from my new business, I’ll get back in his good graces with minimal effort. After all, I can afford literally anything he wants just by shouting, “motherlode!” But that annoyingly causes inflation, so I don’t do it often anymore.
I gotta go now. Chris Hemsworth Jr. #7 is getting ready to claw his way out, and I need to have both hands free to brace myself for the birth. Toodles! |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | So here’s the sitch: I totally do play video games. And no, I’m not one of those r/notliketheothergirls who insists I’m the only girl who games, or that I should receive all the sexual admiration for it. I’ve dabbled in just about everything - FPS, MMORPG, VR, PC, console, mobile, puzzles, survival, capture/collect, simulator, zombie, satire, first- second- and third-person open-world, linear, racing. Club Penguin. Any genre you name, I’ve probably tried it. Not any game, but any genre.
So sue me if I’m partial to pastoral games. As if you never spent hours of your time creating the perfect face or the perfect house or the perfect life for some imaginary person. It’s addicting to be able to control just about every aspect, especially if you tweak the settings and gameplay options so you can reverse any negative unforeseen happenings that would bring chaos to your perfect little world.
The thing is, when the Catalyst happened, I wasn’t just playing one game. I actually had two computers - my laptop and my old family desktop - running two different games. I know this sounds silly, but I really wanted to continue the epic saga I’d begun in The Sims 2 when I was in high school, now that I had finally downloaded The Sims 4. I skipped 3 because the drastic change in gameplay had been too much for me at the time. But after watching countless YouTubers take a crack at it, I was finally ready to give it another chance. Just, not without my OG family.
Upfront, I don’t mod. I don’t know how, and frankly I’m scared to try. The last time I messed with the source code on anything, I ended up destroying my computer. So, no mods for me. It’s cool for other people to, and I’ll admit I laugh every time cabbages rain from the sky as Thomas the Tank Engine careens toward Solitude. But I’m afraid if I touch it, I’ll break it. And then my husband will break me (not really; he’s very kind).
Now, I may not mod, but I also haven’t played Sims 2 without cheats enabled since I first installed the game. I don’t really know the cheat codes for Sims 4, yet, but I’m content to play it on vanilla for now. I mean, I was. I kinda haven’t touched it since that night.
When everybody else started getting their powers, I was convinced I had been skipped over. I mean, what kind of powers do Sims have, anyway? My husband, bless him, had been playing Mass Effect: Andromeda. Now he can interface with his own personal AI, and has a lot of cool abilities with electronics and the like. It certainly helped get us out of our financial situation. That is, until I discovered what had been done to me.
I don’t know how to explain to you exactly how unsettling it is to be sitting on a toilet when suddenly *POOF* confetti erupts around you. I definitely didn’t fall off the seat, but only because of the cramped space around the pot. I don’t know if I thought it was the ceiling collapsing, or that I was hallucinating, but it didn’t take more than a couple days to realize I was pregnant. A few days later, and I was a certifiable balloon.
Newscasters and reporters were too busy with all the rest of the fallout to take note of me and my sudden predicament. In fact, the one journalist I did get in contact with laughed me off the phone.
Luckily, my body was already a wasteland from years of inactivity and poor maintenance. I basically laid in bed for the duration of my pregnancy - a whopping week and a half. Then, I was fine. I popped right up and started taking care of my new baby. But she didn’t stay my baby for long. And she also didn’t stay alone. It seems that birth control isn’t a thing in the Sims: you woohoo for baby, you get a baby (eventually). Only irl, I didn’t have the ability to decide whether I wanted to get pregnant or not. If I had sex, there was a greater than 50% chance I’d get pregnant. And I like having sex with my husband. I’m sure you see where this is going.
Now, I’m literally a baby-making machine, minus the metal parts. And since they are the product of what can only be described as magical fuckery, my brood of children has amassed into an army. That dumbass reporter really wishes she’d spoken to me now.
Because of my specific circumstances, I’m also able to summon Death literally any time I want. And since we are best friends, Death will do my bidding if I ask nicely. Mostly I just ask Death to make sure my colony of offspring have room to grow, to thrive, and to make their own families. And also to spare me whenever I do something stupid, which I do quite a lot now that I’m basically invulnerable. Mauled by an animal? Ctrl+Shift+C maxmotives. Get hit by a car? Same thing! Am I worn out and exhausted? maxmotives, baby!
I don’t sleep except to dream. I have gotten so much done since realizing my powers, and I’ve only scratched the surface of my potential. I discovered I can make a living selling designer babies - especially since I don’t *have to* have sex to make a baby, and I can literally make a baby with anyone. You want Orlando Bloom’s kid? No problem. Kristin Bell? I can do it in my sleep! And recently I discovered that I don’t actually have to wait the full week and a half to get the baby; I can Speed Up Pregnancy with nothing more than the desire! It takes maybe a day after that, although it is quite an ordeal. My husband is actually quite pissed at me, because we haven’t had sex in weeks since I made the discovery. But I think once I take a break from my new business, I’ll get back in his good graces with minimal effort. After all, I can afford literally anything he wants just by shouting, “motherlode!” But that annoyingly causes inflation, so I don’t do it often anymore.
I gotta go now. Chris Hemsworth Jr. #7 is getting ready to claw his way out, and I need to have both hands free to brace myself for the birth. Toodles! |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | They mocked me. Laughed at me. Of course I had to be the one who played Cities:Skylines last. My superpower? The amazing ability to cut through government red tape and expedite municipal construction projects.
For the first time, parks were being built, streets were being paved, and businesses were moving in, all on time and on budget. I could even terraform to a limited degree. If I lowered the terrain in the area I would have to raise it elsewhere. I only had a limited amount of dirt I could keep suspended in my pocket universe you see.
I had complete dictatorial control of the city. Taxes went up and down as I wished. I raised taxes temporarily to generate huge influxes of cash so often I lost count, and I had no elections to fear.
But the others laughed. "Have fun with your budgets!" They'd say, sneering. But little did they know I'd have the last laugh. A lot of them still drove. Their characters weren't superheroes, not most of them. Imagine their surprise when I showed up to their city and started redirecting lanes. The look on solid snake's face when I directed his turn lane to the far lane on the highway so everybody had to cut across three lanes. He sat there, inching his way forward, starting listfully at the clear, open lane he found himself utterly unable to use. It was like the car was on a set of tracks.
I did it to them all. They wouldn't have laughed at me had they known I had installed the traffic manager mod. | He stood at the edge of the street, the "mighty" precipice before him holding him back the way the edge of the Grand Canyon might. 18 inches between him and the crosswalk. 18 inches between him and the sweet release of death. Some asshole had turned the streets into rivers of infested blood or some childish nonsense that, barring the grace of god bringing some far less intelligent nerd towards Magnus, one wielding a runed-sword, shooting fireballs out their hand or whatever the hell the giant moth in the distance was doing, was about as close to salvation as the man could get, assuming the river of blood was as versed in death as it seemed. Unfortunately, 18 inches was still too far for the man, by exactly 18 inches.
Just as all hope seemed lost, a small cadre of skateboarders started to come closer in the distance. Maybe one of them would be kind enough to push him in? Only, how could he possibly tell them what he wanted?
"Hey look! A knight!" Tony Hawk yelled with his distinct bro-like twang. The other Tony Hawks laughed in unison, their attempts to belittle the despondent man a failure, due to one large inadequacy in this taunt: Magnus was not a knight at all. He would have told them their folly if not for two things: One, the fact that he had no mouth or vocal chords, or basically anything else you could possibly use to converse. Two, their noisy approach drew the ire of the equally silent pyramid-faced man in a nearby alley. Even a shut in like Magnus knew not to mess with anything with a pyramid for a head; he didn't need to see the 10 foot long sword the creature pulled behind it to know that, though it certainly hammered the point home. One swing bifurcated each of the flock of Hawks, and the creature turned towards the immobile man.
Verbally, Magnus said nothing. He wanted to scream. He wanted to turn and run. Neither could he do in his current predicament, so he just sat, hoping that maybe this new friend with his giant old knife would cut him in half too and end everything. That, is when I, panting and overheating, finally caught up with the poor man.
"Magnus Carlsen, famous chess player. Form of," I took a strained breath, sucking in air like a pornstar, "a pawn it looks like?"
"How did you know?" the chess master thought to himself, but loud enough for someone like me to hear perfectly fine.
"Oh, I can read minds."
"A sad little man like you?" Magnus thought again, incredulous that I could read his mind.
"Don't be incredulous friend, I can indeed hear you. Well, technically I can SEE you. Through you. I can see through everything" I said with a grin. "That means both physical things and mental things, hence reading minds. I can see through that..." as I spoke, I pointed around, first to the pyramid-headed monster, appropriately named Pyramid-head.
"And that.." my finger swiveled to the top of the giant white pawn in front of me, the last piece Mr. Carlsen must have been using before the Event.
"And.." I started to swivel once more, this time towards the giant moth in the sky, someone who had clearly been playing a Godzilla videogame hours earlier. A billboard of a famous actress crossed my gaze and my trajectory waved for a moment. Crimson-faced, I tried to play it cool and act like a bug was in my eye.
"And what?" Magnus queried inaudibly, thankfully unable to turn around, due to being a chess piece at the moment, and make the simple deduction a man of his mental fortitude would surely construct: that I had just been staring at the most wonderful pair of titties.
"Bug in my eye, and not the giant Mothera in the distance either," I declared a little too loudly. Before you start calling me a creep, particularly for using the word titties, please keep in mind that in my current...preDICKament..I am unable to avoid any chance I can to come off sleezy. My innuendo game has been on point, but at what cost?
"Wait, nevermind, I get it" Magnus thought. I thought 'shit' back, but only one of use could read minds. "You saw that old Jessica Alba billboard back there, didn't you."
"Of course you kept track of your surroundings, fuckin' chess masters." I did not mean to say that aloud.
"Yea, and since you said you can see through everything, you must have been able to see through her clothes too. Does that mean you can see me naked too?" People always have to rain on my parade.
"Yes, I could, but I don't. First, you have nothing for me to look at right now, being a chess piece."
Before I could get to the rest of my explanation, I was interrupted, "So you already tried to look at me naked then?" When it rains it pours.
We were getting dangerously off topic for someone trying to coax someone else from an edge, I having been reading the chess grandmaster's mind since I first saw him in the distance, my little legs not letting me run fast enough to get there before the skateboarders had died; my own inadequacies shining through.
"Full disclosure: I mod videogames to be more adult oriented. I was working on what amounts to the double chocolate fu- fu- fudge of modding when the first Event happened," I spoke to the man, still a pawn, in a whisper for no reason at all. The stutter, my mind trying to power through my tongue's attempt to defile the word fudge, caused me to speak recklessly.
"The first?" Magnus thought, my slip of the tongue of course being caught, indiscreetly marked by my cringe, by someone as discerning as a Grandmaster. No way could I tell such a greenhorn that these occurrences had been going on for decades. He was smart, but he probably wasn't as versed in adult videogames as I was, so it was likely safe to change the subject by disclosing my name.
"The name's Larry. Leisure Suit Larry." My characters name, not my own, but until I find a way to get myself out of this digital body I might as well enjoy the preDICKament's perks. I sighed, the emphasis not entirely my own. "I am tasked with registering those of us who become Gamed during an Event, my ability to see through anything being particularly helpful in such a process."
"does that mean you know why I can't move?" Carlsen asked, a tingle of hope that was likely self-imposed, as I have found thought has no inflection. Of course the answer was "yes," but the answer might not be what the man wanted to hear.
"You were playing a top-down 2-D game. This is less of a problem than it use- than it could be, 2D games not being as popular as they once were, but apparently the laws of the planes of existence from whence you are transmogrified determines your body's ability to function in this..realm?" I find it easier to not use terms like realm and planes of existence and just live and let live, but the words bestow me with an unearned air of knowledge, a helpful advantage in my line of work. "That is to say, You can go forward and backwards and left and right, but not up or down. You don't function in three dimensions effectively. Also, because you are a chess piece, you can't go backwards apparently."
"Actually, many chess pieces can go backwards. I just happen to be a pawn," Magnus corrected me like a totally jerk. He was right though, and this knowledge could prove helpful, as it indicated that the rules of chess were likely as much a part of his situation as the fact moving in 2D disallowed him to move up or down inclines.
Checkers was more my style, but I had a fledgling understanding of chess and a thought came to me. I grabbed the giant Pawn and swung him like a great hammer, far lighter than I had imagined him to be. Upon letting go, the piece flew across the street. When his small pale body landed on the other side, an incandescent light shot into the sky and I turned away on reaction. When I turned back, the pawn was no longer there, replaced by a larger, more stately looking chess piece.
"I turned into a queen! This is amazing!" While Magnus Carlsen trembled with joy, much the way a double amputee does the first time he puts on his running prosthetic, I trembled for another reason: my mind was desperately telling my tongue to not say a damned word. It failed.... |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | He stood at the edge of the street, the "mighty" precipice before him holding him back the way the edge of the Grand Canyon might. 18 inches between him and the crosswalk. 18 inches between him and the sweet release of death. Some asshole had turned the streets into rivers of infested blood or some childish nonsense that, barring the grace of god bringing some far less intelligent nerd towards Magnus, one wielding a runed-sword, shooting fireballs out their hand or whatever the hell the giant moth in the distance was doing, was about as close to salvation as the man could get, assuming the river of blood was as versed in death as it seemed. Unfortunately, 18 inches was still too far for the man, by exactly 18 inches.
Just as all hope seemed lost, a small cadre of skateboarders started to come closer in the distance. Maybe one of them would be kind enough to push him in? Only, how could he possibly tell them what he wanted?
"Hey look! A knight!" Tony Hawk yelled with his distinct bro-like twang. The other Tony Hawks laughed in unison, their attempts to belittle the despondent man a failure, due to one large inadequacy in this taunt: Magnus was not a knight at all. He would have told them their folly if not for two things: One, the fact that he had no mouth or vocal chords, or basically anything else you could possibly use to converse. Two, their noisy approach drew the ire of the equally silent pyramid-faced man in a nearby alley. Even a shut in like Magnus knew not to mess with anything with a pyramid for a head; he didn't need to see the 10 foot long sword the creature pulled behind it to know that, though it certainly hammered the point home. One swing bifurcated each of the flock of Hawks, and the creature turned towards the immobile man.
Verbally, Magnus said nothing. He wanted to scream. He wanted to turn and run. Neither could he do in his current predicament, so he just sat, hoping that maybe this new friend with his giant old knife would cut him in half too and end everything. That, is when I, panting and overheating, finally caught up with the poor man.
"Magnus Carlsen, famous chess player. Form of," I took a strained breath, sucking in air like a pornstar, "a pawn it looks like?"
"How did you know?" the chess master thought to himself, but loud enough for someone like me to hear perfectly fine.
"Oh, I can read minds."
"A sad little man like you?" Magnus thought again, incredulous that I could read his mind.
"Don't be incredulous friend, I can indeed hear you. Well, technically I can SEE you. Through you. I can see through everything" I said with a grin. "That means both physical things and mental things, hence reading minds. I can see through that..." as I spoke, I pointed around, first to the pyramid-headed monster, appropriately named Pyramid-head.
"And that.." my finger swiveled to the top of the giant white pawn in front of me, the last piece Mr. Carlsen must have been using before the Event.
"And.." I started to swivel once more, this time towards the giant moth in the sky, someone who had clearly been playing a Godzilla videogame hours earlier. A billboard of a famous actress crossed my gaze and my trajectory waved for a moment. Crimson-faced, I tried to play it cool and act like a bug was in my eye.
"And what?" Magnus queried inaudibly, thankfully unable to turn around, due to being a chess piece at the moment, and make the simple deduction a man of his mental fortitude would surely construct: that I had just been staring at the most wonderful pair of titties.
"Bug in my eye, and not the giant Mothera in the distance either," I declared a little too loudly. Before you start calling me a creep, particularly for using the word titties, please keep in mind that in my current...preDICKament..I am unable to avoid any chance I can to come off sleezy. My innuendo game has been on point, but at what cost?
"Wait, nevermind, I get it" Magnus thought. I thought 'shit' back, but only one of use could read minds. "You saw that old Jessica Alba billboard back there, didn't you."
"Of course you kept track of your surroundings, fuckin' chess masters." I did not mean to say that aloud.
"Yea, and since you said you can see through everything, you must have been able to see through her clothes too. Does that mean you can see me naked too?" People always have to rain on my parade.
"Yes, I could, but I don't. First, you have nothing for me to look at right now, being a chess piece."
Before I could get to the rest of my explanation, I was interrupted, "So you already tried to look at me naked then?" When it rains it pours.
We were getting dangerously off topic for someone trying to coax someone else from an edge, I having been reading the chess grandmaster's mind since I first saw him in the distance, my little legs not letting me run fast enough to get there before the skateboarders had died; my own inadequacies shining through.
"Full disclosure: I mod videogames to be more adult oriented. I was working on what amounts to the double chocolate fu- fu- fudge of modding when the first Event happened," I spoke to the man, still a pawn, in a whisper for no reason at all. The stutter, my mind trying to power through my tongue's attempt to defile the word fudge, caused me to speak recklessly.
"The first?" Magnus thought, my slip of the tongue of course being caught, indiscreetly marked by my cringe, by someone as discerning as a Grandmaster. No way could I tell such a greenhorn that these occurrences had been going on for decades. He was smart, but he probably wasn't as versed in adult videogames as I was, so it was likely safe to change the subject by disclosing my name.
"The name's Larry. Leisure Suit Larry." My characters name, not my own, but until I find a way to get myself out of this digital body I might as well enjoy the preDICKament's perks. I sighed, the emphasis not entirely my own. "I am tasked with registering those of us who become Gamed during an Event, my ability to see through anything being particularly helpful in such a process."
"does that mean you know why I can't move?" Carlsen asked, a tingle of hope that was likely self-imposed, as I have found thought has no inflection. Of course the answer was "yes," but the answer might not be what the man wanted to hear.
"You were playing a top-down 2-D game. This is less of a problem than it use- than it could be, 2D games not being as popular as they once were, but apparently the laws of the planes of existence from whence you are transmogrified determines your body's ability to function in this..realm?" I find it easier to not use terms like realm and planes of existence and just live and let live, but the words bestow me with an unearned air of knowledge, a helpful advantage in my line of work. "That is to say, You can go forward and backwards and left and right, but not up or down. You don't function in three dimensions effectively. Also, because you are a chess piece, you can't go backwards apparently."
"Actually, many chess pieces can go backwards. I just happen to be a pawn," Magnus corrected me like a totally jerk. He was right though, and this knowledge could prove helpful, as it indicated that the rules of chess were likely as much a part of his situation as the fact moving in 2D disallowed him to move up or down inclines.
Checkers was more my style, but I had a fledgling understanding of chess and a thought came to me. I grabbed the giant Pawn and swung him like a great hammer, far lighter than I had imagined him to be. Upon letting go, the piece flew across the street. When his small pale body landed on the other side, an incandescent light shot into the sky and I turned away on reaction. When I turned back, the pawn was no longer there, replaced by a larger, more stately looking chess piece.
"I turned into a queen! This is amazing!" While Magnus Carlsen trembled with joy, much the way a double amputee does the first time he puts on his running prosthetic, I trembled for another reason: my mind was desperately telling my tongue to not say a damned word. It failed.... |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | He stood at the edge of the street, the "mighty" precipice before him holding him back the way the edge of the Grand Canyon might. 18 inches between him and the crosswalk. 18 inches between him and the sweet release of death. Some asshole had turned the streets into rivers of infested blood or some childish nonsense that, barring the grace of god bringing some far less intelligent nerd towards Magnus, one wielding a runed-sword, shooting fireballs out their hand or whatever the hell the giant moth in the distance was doing, was about as close to salvation as the man could get, assuming the river of blood was as versed in death as it seemed. Unfortunately, 18 inches was still too far for the man, by exactly 18 inches.
Just as all hope seemed lost, a small cadre of skateboarders started to come closer in the distance. Maybe one of them would be kind enough to push him in? Only, how could he possibly tell them what he wanted?
"Hey look! A knight!" Tony Hawk yelled with his distinct bro-like twang. The other Tony Hawks laughed in unison, their attempts to belittle the despondent man a failure, due to one large inadequacy in this taunt: Magnus was not a knight at all. He would have told them their folly if not for two things: One, the fact that he had no mouth or vocal chords, or basically anything else you could possibly use to converse. Two, their noisy approach drew the ire of the equally silent pyramid-faced man in a nearby alley. Even a shut in like Magnus knew not to mess with anything with a pyramid for a head; he didn't need to see the 10 foot long sword the creature pulled behind it to know that, though it certainly hammered the point home. One swing bifurcated each of the flock of Hawks, and the creature turned towards the immobile man.
Verbally, Magnus said nothing. He wanted to scream. He wanted to turn and run. Neither could he do in his current predicament, so he just sat, hoping that maybe this new friend with his giant old knife would cut him in half too and end everything. That, is when I, panting and overheating, finally caught up with the poor man.
"Magnus Carlsen, famous chess player. Form of," I took a strained breath, sucking in air like a pornstar, "a pawn it looks like?"
"How did you know?" the chess master thought to himself, but loud enough for someone like me to hear perfectly fine.
"Oh, I can read minds."
"A sad little man like you?" Magnus thought again, incredulous that I could read his mind.
"Don't be incredulous friend, I can indeed hear you. Well, technically I can SEE you. Through you. I can see through everything" I said with a grin. "That means both physical things and mental things, hence reading minds. I can see through that..." as I spoke, I pointed around, first to the pyramid-headed monster, appropriately named Pyramid-head.
"And that.." my finger swiveled to the top of the giant white pawn in front of me, the last piece Mr. Carlsen must have been using before the Event.
"And.." I started to swivel once more, this time towards the giant moth in the sky, someone who had clearly been playing a Godzilla videogame hours earlier. A billboard of a famous actress crossed my gaze and my trajectory waved for a moment. Crimson-faced, I tried to play it cool and act like a bug was in my eye.
"And what?" Magnus queried inaudibly, thankfully unable to turn around, due to being a chess piece at the moment, and make the simple deduction a man of his mental fortitude would surely construct: that I had just been staring at the most wonderful pair of titties.
"Bug in my eye, and not the giant Mothera in the distance either," I declared a little too loudly. Before you start calling me a creep, particularly for using the word titties, please keep in mind that in my current...preDICKament..I am unable to avoid any chance I can to come off sleezy. My innuendo game has been on point, but at what cost?
"Wait, nevermind, I get it" Magnus thought. I thought 'shit' back, but only one of use could read minds. "You saw that old Jessica Alba billboard back there, didn't you."
"Of course you kept track of your surroundings, fuckin' chess masters." I did not mean to say that aloud.
"Yea, and since you said you can see through everything, you must have been able to see through her clothes too. Does that mean you can see me naked too?" People always have to rain on my parade.
"Yes, I could, but I don't. First, you have nothing for me to look at right now, being a chess piece."
Before I could get to the rest of my explanation, I was interrupted, "So you already tried to look at me naked then?" When it rains it pours.
We were getting dangerously off topic for someone trying to coax someone else from an edge, I having been reading the chess grandmaster's mind since I first saw him in the distance, my little legs not letting me run fast enough to get there before the skateboarders had died; my own inadequacies shining through.
"Full disclosure: I mod videogames to be more adult oriented. I was working on what amounts to the double chocolate fu- fu- fudge of modding when the first Event happened," I spoke to the man, still a pawn, in a whisper for no reason at all. The stutter, my mind trying to power through my tongue's attempt to defile the word fudge, caused me to speak recklessly.
"The first?" Magnus thought, my slip of the tongue of course being caught, indiscreetly marked by my cringe, by someone as discerning as a Grandmaster. No way could I tell such a greenhorn that these occurrences had been going on for decades. He was smart, but he probably wasn't as versed in adult videogames as I was, so it was likely safe to change the subject by disclosing my name.
"The name's Larry. Leisure Suit Larry." My characters name, not my own, but until I find a way to get myself out of this digital body I might as well enjoy the preDICKament's perks. I sighed, the emphasis not entirely my own. "I am tasked with registering those of us who become Gamed during an Event, my ability to see through anything being particularly helpful in such a process."
"does that mean you know why I can't move?" Carlsen asked, a tingle of hope that was likely self-imposed, as I have found thought has no inflection. Of course the answer was "yes," but the answer might not be what the man wanted to hear.
"You were playing a top-down 2-D game. This is less of a problem than it use- than it could be, 2D games not being as popular as they once were, but apparently the laws of the planes of existence from whence you are transmogrified determines your body's ability to function in this..realm?" I find it easier to not use terms like realm and planes of existence and just live and let live, but the words bestow me with an unearned air of knowledge, a helpful advantage in my line of work. "That is to say, You can go forward and backwards and left and right, but not up or down. You don't function in three dimensions effectively. Also, because you are a chess piece, you can't go backwards apparently."
"Actually, many chess pieces can go backwards. I just happen to be a pawn," Magnus corrected me like a totally jerk. He was right though, and this knowledge could prove helpful, as it indicated that the rules of chess were likely as much a part of his situation as the fact moving in 2D disallowed him to move up or down inclines.
Checkers was more my style, but I had a fledgling understanding of chess and a thought came to me. I grabbed the giant Pawn and swung him like a great hammer, far lighter than I had imagined him to be. Upon letting go, the piece flew across the street. When his small pale body landed on the other side, an incandescent light shot into the sky and I turned away on reaction. When I turned back, the pawn was no longer there, replaced by a larger, more stately looking chess piece.
"I turned into a queen! This is amazing!" While Magnus Carlsen trembled with joy, much the way a double amputee does the first time he puts on his running prosthetic, I trembled for another reason: my mind was desperately telling my tongue to not say a damned word. It failed.... |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | He stood at the edge of the street, the "mighty" precipice before him holding him back the way the edge of the Grand Canyon might. 18 inches between him and the crosswalk. 18 inches between him and the sweet release of death. Some asshole had turned the streets into rivers of infested blood or some childish nonsense that, barring the grace of god bringing some far less intelligent nerd towards Magnus, one wielding a runed-sword, shooting fireballs out their hand or whatever the hell the giant moth in the distance was doing, was about as close to salvation as the man could get, assuming the river of blood was as versed in death as it seemed. Unfortunately, 18 inches was still too far for the man, by exactly 18 inches.
Just as all hope seemed lost, a small cadre of skateboarders started to come closer in the distance. Maybe one of them would be kind enough to push him in? Only, how could he possibly tell them what he wanted?
"Hey look! A knight!" Tony Hawk yelled with his distinct bro-like twang. The other Tony Hawks laughed in unison, their attempts to belittle the despondent man a failure, due to one large inadequacy in this taunt: Magnus was not a knight at all. He would have told them their folly if not for two things: One, the fact that he had no mouth or vocal chords, or basically anything else you could possibly use to converse. Two, their noisy approach drew the ire of the equally silent pyramid-faced man in a nearby alley. Even a shut in like Magnus knew not to mess with anything with a pyramid for a head; he didn't need to see the 10 foot long sword the creature pulled behind it to know that, though it certainly hammered the point home. One swing bifurcated each of the flock of Hawks, and the creature turned towards the immobile man.
Verbally, Magnus said nothing. He wanted to scream. He wanted to turn and run. Neither could he do in his current predicament, so he just sat, hoping that maybe this new friend with his giant old knife would cut him in half too and end everything. That, is when I, panting and overheating, finally caught up with the poor man.
"Magnus Carlsen, famous chess player. Form of," I took a strained breath, sucking in air like a pornstar, "a pawn it looks like?"
"How did you know?" the chess master thought to himself, but loud enough for someone like me to hear perfectly fine.
"Oh, I can read minds."
"A sad little man like you?" Magnus thought again, incredulous that I could read his mind.
"Don't be incredulous friend, I can indeed hear you. Well, technically I can SEE you. Through you. I can see through everything" I said with a grin. "That means both physical things and mental things, hence reading minds. I can see through that..." as I spoke, I pointed around, first to the pyramid-headed monster, appropriately named Pyramid-head.
"And that.." my finger swiveled to the top of the giant white pawn in front of me, the last piece Mr. Carlsen must have been using before the Event.
"And.." I started to swivel once more, this time towards the giant moth in the sky, someone who had clearly been playing a Godzilla videogame hours earlier. A billboard of a famous actress crossed my gaze and my trajectory waved for a moment. Crimson-faced, I tried to play it cool and act like a bug was in my eye.
"And what?" Magnus queried inaudibly, thankfully unable to turn around, due to being a chess piece at the moment, and make the simple deduction a man of his mental fortitude would surely construct: that I had just been staring at the most wonderful pair of titties.
"Bug in my eye, and not the giant Mothera in the distance either," I declared a little too loudly. Before you start calling me a creep, particularly for using the word titties, please keep in mind that in my current...preDICKament..I am unable to avoid any chance I can to come off sleezy. My innuendo game has been on point, but at what cost?
"Wait, nevermind, I get it" Magnus thought. I thought 'shit' back, but only one of use could read minds. "You saw that old Jessica Alba billboard back there, didn't you."
"Of course you kept track of your surroundings, fuckin' chess masters." I did not mean to say that aloud.
"Yea, and since you said you can see through everything, you must have been able to see through her clothes too. Does that mean you can see me naked too?" People always have to rain on my parade.
"Yes, I could, but I don't. First, you have nothing for me to look at right now, being a chess piece."
Before I could get to the rest of my explanation, I was interrupted, "So you already tried to look at me naked then?" When it rains it pours.
We were getting dangerously off topic for someone trying to coax someone else from an edge, I having been reading the chess grandmaster's mind since I first saw him in the distance, my little legs not letting me run fast enough to get there before the skateboarders had died; my own inadequacies shining through.
"Full disclosure: I mod videogames to be more adult oriented. I was working on what amounts to the double chocolate fu- fu- fudge of modding when the first Event happened," I spoke to the man, still a pawn, in a whisper for no reason at all. The stutter, my mind trying to power through my tongue's attempt to defile the word fudge, caused me to speak recklessly.
"The first?" Magnus thought, my slip of the tongue of course being caught, indiscreetly marked by my cringe, by someone as discerning as a Grandmaster. No way could I tell such a greenhorn that these occurrences had been going on for decades. He was smart, but he probably wasn't as versed in adult videogames as I was, so it was likely safe to change the subject by disclosing my name.
"The name's Larry. Leisure Suit Larry." My characters name, not my own, but until I find a way to get myself out of this digital body I might as well enjoy the preDICKament's perks. I sighed, the emphasis not entirely my own. "I am tasked with registering those of us who become Gamed during an Event, my ability to see through anything being particularly helpful in such a process."
"does that mean you know why I can't move?" Carlsen asked, a tingle of hope that was likely self-imposed, as I have found thought has no inflection. Of course the answer was "yes," but the answer might not be what the man wanted to hear.
"You were playing a top-down 2-D game. This is less of a problem than it use- than it could be, 2D games not being as popular as they once were, but apparently the laws of the planes of existence from whence you are transmogrified determines your body's ability to function in this..realm?" I find it easier to not use terms like realm and planes of existence and just live and let live, but the words bestow me with an unearned air of knowledge, a helpful advantage in my line of work. "That is to say, You can go forward and backwards and left and right, but not up or down. You don't function in three dimensions effectively. Also, because you are a chess piece, you can't go backwards apparently."
"Actually, many chess pieces can go backwards. I just happen to be a pawn," Magnus corrected me like a totally jerk. He was right though, and this knowledge could prove helpful, as it indicated that the rules of chess were likely as much a part of his situation as the fact moving in 2D disallowed him to move up or down inclines.
Checkers was more my style, but I had a fledgling understanding of chess and a thought came to me. I grabbed the giant Pawn and swung him like a great hammer, far lighter than I had imagined him to be. Upon letting go, the piece flew across the street. When his small pale body landed on the other side, an incandescent light shot into the sky and I turned away on reaction. When I turned back, the pawn was no longer there, replaced by a larger, more stately looking chess piece.
"I turned into a queen! This is amazing!" While Magnus Carlsen trembled with joy, much the way a double amputee does the first time he puts on his running prosthetic, I trembled for another reason: my mind was desperately telling my tongue to not say a damned word. It failed.... |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | You know, in hindsight, I shouldn’t complain, but you know.
I really want to.
When the “Lottery” happened, many individuals got ultra powerful, well, powers, at their disposal. Practically gods in their own right. Others were just excellent marksmen, builders, soldiers, bartenders, others monsters, behemoths, and creatures from the depths of hell and the ocean floor.
Me, on the other hand.
I had recently installed an old childhood game of mine that had been remade. Or rather, Rewritten. See, I loved Toontown as a kid, and played it quite a bit, and recently, I got back into playing it. And well, here I am. Some normal guy, with the powers and abilities of a Toon.
Can’t say it’s all bad, the teleportation power is nice, along with basically invulnerability, and not to mention all the other crazy stuff I could just pull from nowhere. But at the same time, when someone finds out you got the powers of the toon, they want a show.
More accurately, the “gods” of this world want to see just what they can do to you. See, Toontown toons are the “squash and stretch” variety. We can be pulled apart, blown up, sliced in half, lose limbs, and everything, but always be put back together just fine. It gets annoying however, when you’re just walking around town, and Link wannabe goes “HYA” and cuts you in half, and you have to grab your legs before they run off on their own. It’s frustrating to say the least.
But hey, I really can’t complain.
I can do the same thing to them. | I messed up and I knew it. Here I was standing before a giant wall of fog, knowing that I was expected and at the same time underprepared. Looking around I didn’t see any messages or runes that would get me some backup - I had to go alone.
It was dark out. There was an argument, an errant pea thrown from my plate during dinner ended up in the afterglow of the nearby cathedral disappearing as sudden as my guilt appearing. Anyway, that’s irrelevant now.
The longer I waited here the worse it would get. I had to push on through. I checked my equipment to make sure I had everything I needed (and was supposed to have), took one last swig of my Siegbrau and passed through the fog gate.
It was dark. It was quiet.
Maybe I’d get away with this after all?
As I tip toed through the night I desperately tried to make as little noise as possible before reaching the chambers. I cracked a door open quietly, a fireplace burning opposite the foot of the bed offered me a brief respite, a feeling of warmth. The glow of the fire reflecting on the paintings on the wall, the chest at the foot of the bed. A figure now stirred from slumber. I froze and a few moments felt like forever until they went back to their deep slumber. They seemed restful.
One by one, the items came off. First a boot, then the other, then my rings, and suddenly I was standing in my underwear. I did it. I got back home without being caught. As I stepped towards the bed I suddenly lost my balance and fell backwards - I forgot to take off my damn headgear.
As I fell everything felt like it was slow motion. I heard the clatter of my helmet hit the floor. The sudden rush of wind as the bedsheets pulled back from the bed. The panic as I became aware that I’d been caught. And I needed an excuse as to why I was home so late.
Staring at me with a hollow look in her eyes I stammered my excuses in response to questions which were never asked aloud.
Silence hung the air like a diaspora with me standing here in my sun covered underwear. Time stretched out forever and suddenly there was a movement. It was subtle, unassuming. But suddenly there was a pea in her hand.
We locked stares. I’m not sure what came next but I recall her deep red pupils gazing into mine. The pea flying from her hand and I distinctly recall tracing the arc of its trajectory across the room. I remember it smacking the chest.
Silence. A brief giggle in the dark. I felt relieved. It was going to be fine.
Then the chest opened. And it stood up |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | I messed up and I knew it. Here I was standing before a giant wall of fog, knowing that I was expected and at the same time underprepared. Looking around I didn’t see any messages or runes that would get me some backup - I had to go alone.
It was dark out. There was an argument, an errant pea thrown from my plate during dinner ended up in the afterglow of the nearby cathedral disappearing as sudden as my guilt appearing. Anyway, that’s irrelevant now.
The longer I waited here the worse it would get. I had to push on through. I checked my equipment to make sure I had everything I needed (and was supposed to have), took one last swig of my Siegbrau and passed through the fog gate.
It was dark. It was quiet.
Maybe I’d get away with this after all?
As I tip toed through the night I desperately tried to make as little noise as possible before reaching the chambers. I cracked a door open quietly, a fireplace burning opposite the foot of the bed offered me a brief respite, a feeling of warmth. The glow of the fire reflecting on the paintings on the wall, the chest at the foot of the bed. A figure now stirred from slumber. I froze and a few moments felt like forever until they went back to their deep slumber. They seemed restful.
One by one, the items came off. First a boot, then the other, then my rings, and suddenly I was standing in my underwear. I did it. I got back home without being caught. As I stepped towards the bed I suddenly lost my balance and fell backwards - I forgot to take off my damn headgear.
As I fell everything felt like it was slow motion. I heard the clatter of my helmet hit the floor. The sudden rush of wind as the bedsheets pulled back from the bed. The panic as I became aware that I’d been caught. And I needed an excuse as to why I was home so late.
Staring at me with a hollow look in her eyes I stammered my excuses in response to questions which were never asked aloud.
Silence hung the air like a diaspora with me standing here in my sun covered underwear. Time stretched out forever and suddenly there was a movement. It was subtle, unassuming. But suddenly there was a pea in her hand.
We locked stares. I’m not sure what came next but I recall her deep red pupils gazing into mine. The pea flying from her hand and I distinctly recall tracing the arc of its trajectory across the room. I remember it smacking the chest.
Silence. A brief giggle in the dark. I felt relieved. It was going to be fine.
Then the chest opened. And it stood up |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | You know, the oldest games didn't have much room for a story, simple as they were. However, the people who played them would grow up to develop the next generation of games. And the next, and the next. The thing about games is that they allow you to immerse yourself in the world. An escape from the real world, as it is. The newer devs grew up playing the games of the generation before. They knew of the power of immersion, and they strived to make their own games ever more immersive.
But there was a slight hitch. You, as the player, would typically put yourself in the shoes of the protagonist, who would then go on to save the world or whatever it is that these protagonists do. This works fine if the player and the protagonist are in sync. But if the protagonist tries to do something the player wouldn't, immersion is lost, however briefly. The later generations of game devs knew that, and tried to make a protagonist that appealed to everyone. And thus the silent protagonist was born. Silent, devoid of emotion, they would react as their surroundings warrented, but otherwise served only as an avatar for the player to fit in. Over time, this idea became embedded in gaming culture. Nearly every game would go on to have some varient of it. And people loved it.
Who would have thought that this seemingly innocuous idea would have been our downfall? For on that fated day, when the Gamer Crisis began, those who were avid gamers recieved the powers of the protagonists they so much enjoyed. But the powers were not just powers. They became The Silent Ones. Psychopathic murder machines, killing indiscriminately to further their own goals. Governments tried to take them under their wings at first. They succeeded too, at least partially. Having an army of Silent Ones under their command was a parameter of the countries' military might. That is, until the Silent Ones began to move. With all the corruption rampant in the modern world, the Silent Ones deemed the governments the source of all evil and started to tear them down. Tear everything down. Society as we knew it is now no more. We now live in a vaguely tribal society, scavenging the rubble, barely sustaining ourselves and whoever else was lucky enough to survive. Crimes are nonexistant, everybody is terrified of being labeled a bandit. The last one to do it had his head cut clean off in the middle of the street. And then they demanded a reward. A reward! For killing Sammy! Sure he was stealing, but he had a sick young daughter! We knew! We would have given him the bread anyways!
Sorry for that. I have tried to keep a low profile for oh, so long. I don't want to die either. But you know, sometimes your hand is forced. Most of the gamers who recieved power were the Silent Ones. But there are a few like me who have retained their humanity. Those that were found out early either joined or died. But still more survived. And we are getting ready to push back. This is our Burning Crusade. Are we the villians in this story? Perhaps. But one thing is for sure. There are no heroes left in this world. | I messed up and I knew it. Here I was standing before a giant wall of fog, knowing that I was expected and at the same time underprepared. Looking around I didn’t see any messages or runes that would get me some backup - I had to go alone.
It was dark out. There was an argument, an errant pea thrown from my plate during dinner ended up in the afterglow of the nearby cathedral disappearing as sudden as my guilt appearing. Anyway, that’s irrelevant now.
The longer I waited here the worse it would get. I had to push on through. I checked my equipment to make sure I had everything I needed (and was supposed to have), took one last swig of my Siegbrau and passed through the fog gate.
It was dark. It was quiet.
Maybe I’d get away with this after all?
As I tip toed through the night I desperately tried to make as little noise as possible before reaching the chambers. I cracked a door open quietly, a fireplace burning opposite the foot of the bed offered me a brief respite, a feeling of warmth. The glow of the fire reflecting on the paintings on the wall, the chest at the foot of the bed. A figure now stirred from slumber. I froze and a few moments felt like forever until they went back to their deep slumber. They seemed restful.
One by one, the items came off. First a boot, then the other, then my rings, and suddenly I was standing in my underwear. I did it. I got back home without being caught. As I stepped towards the bed I suddenly lost my balance and fell backwards - I forgot to take off my damn headgear.
As I fell everything felt like it was slow motion. I heard the clatter of my helmet hit the floor. The sudden rush of wind as the bedsheets pulled back from the bed. The panic as I became aware that I’d been caught. And I needed an excuse as to why I was home so late.
Staring at me with a hollow look in her eyes I stammered my excuses in response to questions which were never asked aloud.
Silence hung the air like a diaspora with me standing here in my sun covered underwear. Time stretched out forever and suddenly there was a movement. It was subtle, unassuming. But suddenly there was a pea in her hand.
We locked stares. I’m not sure what came next but I recall her deep red pupils gazing into mine. The pea flying from her hand and I distinctly recall tracing the arc of its trajectory across the room. I remember it smacking the chest.
Silence. A brief giggle in the dark. I felt relieved. It was going to be fine.
Then the chest opened. And it stood up |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | If you're reading this, then I have probably been gone for some time now. See, after the random power surge that started all this mess, I have been thinking. And I have been thinking hard. And I'm tired of all this.
The world has changed, and it has changed into something so grotesque, I hate it now. At first, it was pretty civil. There were people left and right, running around, trying out and testing their powers, seeing what they can do. I had some pretty good in-game experiences, and I just didn't want people to know I had powers, so I just hid in my room and watch it all play out. The news were full with interviews with all these people, how they got their powers, how it has changed their life and all that jizz. Now there were mages and elves and all kinds of wonderful wizards and witches. I'd even heard of a Witcher spotting in a rural part of Siberia. People had started to realise the potential of this thing and use it for their benefit.
Then things started getting a little out of hand. You would walk down the street and see some Fortniters building in the middle of the road and blocking the traffic. Some wizard accidently Stunned a passerby with their wand and the victim's family pressed charges on them. Soon there were incidents left and right; incidents of bank robberies, theft and murders. Fortunately for us, a group of superheros banded together and rounded the ones getting out of line.
Nowadays, things have gotten quiter. Sure, most of the bad guys have been put in jail by now, and the superheros patrol the streets. Everyone else seems happy about it. But I just can't help but wonder.
Why are the super heroes doing this for free?
I mean, one moment you had family, bills and mortgages to pay, stuffs to do and the next you just leave to patrol the streets for free? No one does anything for free.
I didn't want to; trust me I really didn't want to use my powers. But I had to. So I got out one fine weekend and decided to see what I can find. Of course, I used a disguise. And I must say, I wished I had gone out sooner.
Now, I do not know if you understand the full extent of my powers, so I'd just like to clear a few things out now. See when the surge happened, I was playing Minecraft in 2019 with multiple mods on. I know, some people would have disapproved but here I am. Anyway, I wanted to try out a new redstone contraption so I had just jumped into creative mode. I had most of my armour intact and enabled then and just as I was going to flip the lever, it happened. So now, I could have infinite materials, teleport or go through anything in Spectator mode.
So back to the present, I started by spying on the superheros. I went to their headquarters and saw the papers. Apparently they were hired by the government on contract. Basically, they could go anywhere and do anything they wanted to anyone without the government interfering at all. That's just anarchy. And everyone was celebrating it. Next, I found a paycheck from a government facility, so naturally I teleported there next. I do not wish to recall what I saw there, because to this day, I wish I could erase it from my mind. The government was experimenting on the prisoners and trying to figure out a way to replicate the effect and build a super army. The most horrifying part was, because of respawn enabled, most of the prisoners were probed to death only to be revived moments later and continued on.
I could not sleep that night. And with all this power at my fingertips, I felt helpless. This was one government facility in one country. Imagine what a powerful country with billions of dollars in military spending. I am but one man. What can I do?
I can't. There is nothing I can do really. Going against the government means going against the superheros too. Even if I win over them all, then what? Become a ruler? I don't know jackshit about politics let alone ruling the world. Form a government? Another government would rise and they would do the same. There is no point in doing anything at all. So I've decided.
I'll be moving to my underground bunker I've built under the basement of my house. I have built my food and resources farm and my own mine system. I'll be enjoying at my crafting station as I smell the sweet smell of iron smelting. I'll travel to the nether. I'll kill the Ender Dragon for the 100th time. I'll built the most glorious Minecraft bunker the world is never going to see. Maybe years from now, after most of the humans die to a nuclear attack, I'll rise in the ashes of the fallout. We'll see.
Edit: sorry for the bad English, it's my second language. I hope you enjoy. | I messed up and I knew it. Here I was standing before a giant wall of fog, knowing that I was expected and at the same time underprepared. Looking around I didn’t see any messages or runes that would get me some backup - I had to go alone.
It was dark out. There was an argument, an errant pea thrown from my plate during dinner ended up in the afterglow of the nearby cathedral disappearing as sudden as my guilt appearing. Anyway, that’s irrelevant now.
The longer I waited here the worse it would get. I had to push on through. I checked my equipment to make sure I had everything I needed (and was supposed to have), took one last swig of my Siegbrau and passed through the fog gate.
It was dark. It was quiet.
Maybe I’d get away with this after all?
As I tip toed through the night I desperately tried to make as little noise as possible before reaching the chambers. I cracked a door open quietly, a fireplace burning opposite the foot of the bed offered me a brief respite, a feeling of warmth. The glow of the fire reflecting on the paintings on the wall, the chest at the foot of the bed. A figure now stirred from slumber. I froze and a few moments felt like forever until they went back to their deep slumber. They seemed restful.
One by one, the items came off. First a boot, then the other, then my rings, and suddenly I was standing in my underwear. I did it. I got back home without being caught. As I stepped towards the bed I suddenly lost my balance and fell backwards - I forgot to take off my damn headgear.
As I fell everything felt like it was slow motion. I heard the clatter of my helmet hit the floor. The sudden rush of wind as the bedsheets pulled back from the bed. The panic as I became aware that I’d been caught. And I needed an excuse as to why I was home so late.
Staring at me with a hollow look in her eyes I stammered my excuses in response to questions which were never asked aloud.
Silence hung the air like a diaspora with me standing here in my sun covered underwear. Time stretched out forever and suddenly there was a movement. It was subtle, unassuming. But suddenly there was a pea in her hand.
We locked stares. I’m not sure what came next but I recall her deep red pupils gazing into mine. The pea flying from her hand and I distinctly recall tracing the arc of its trajectory across the room. I remember it smacking the chest.
Silence. A brief giggle in the dark. I felt relieved. It was going to be fine.
Then the chest opened. And it stood up |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | I messed up and I knew it. Here I was standing before a giant wall of fog, knowing that I was expected and at the same time underprepared. Looking around I didn’t see any messages or runes that would get me some backup - I had to go alone.
It was dark out. There was an argument, an errant pea thrown from my plate during dinner ended up in the afterglow of the nearby cathedral disappearing as sudden as my guilt appearing. Anyway, that’s irrelevant now.
The longer I waited here the worse it would get. I had to push on through. I checked my equipment to make sure I had everything I needed (and was supposed to have), took one last swig of my Siegbrau and passed through the fog gate.
It was dark. It was quiet.
Maybe I’d get away with this after all?
As I tip toed through the night I desperately tried to make as little noise as possible before reaching the chambers. I cracked a door open quietly, a fireplace burning opposite the foot of the bed offered me a brief respite, a feeling of warmth. The glow of the fire reflecting on the paintings on the wall, the chest at the foot of the bed. A figure now stirred from slumber. I froze and a few moments felt like forever until they went back to their deep slumber. They seemed restful.
One by one, the items came off. First a boot, then the other, then my rings, and suddenly I was standing in my underwear. I did it. I got back home without being caught. As I stepped towards the bed I suddenly lost my balance and fell backwards - I forgot to take off my damn headgear.
As I fell everything felt like it was slow motion. I heard the clatter of my helmet hit the floor. The sudden rush of wind as the bedsheets pulled back from the bed. The panic as I became aware that I’d been caught. And I needed an excuse as to why I was home so late.
Staring at me with a hollow look in her eyes I stammered my excuses in response to questions which were never asked aloud.
Silence hung the air like a diaspora with me standing here in my sun covered underwear. Time stretched out forever and suddenly there was a movement. It was subtle, unassuming. But suddenly there was a pea in her hand.
We locked stares. I’m not sure what came next but I recall her deep red pupils gazing into mine. The pea flying from her hand and I distinctly recall tracing the arc of its trajectory across the room. I remember it smacking the chest.
Silence. A brief giggle in the dark. I felt relieved. It was going to be fine.
Then the chest opened. And it stood up |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | I messed up and I knew it. Here I was standing before a giant wall of fog, knowing that I was expected and at the same time underprepared. Looking around I didn’t see any messages or runes that would get me some backup - I had to go alone.
It was dark out. There was an argument, an errant pea thrown from my plate during dinner ended up in the afterglow of the nearby cathedral disappearing as sudden as my guilt appearing. Anyway, that’s irrelevant now.
The longer I waited here the worse it would get. I had to push on through. I checked my equipment to make sure I had everything I needed (and was supposed to have), took one last swig of my Siegbrau and passed through the fog gate.
It was dark. It was quiet.
Maybe I’d get away with this after all?
As I tip toed through the night I desperately tried to make as little noise as possible before reaching the chambers. I cracked a door open quietly, a fireplace burning opposite the foot of the bed offered me a brief respite, a feeling of warmth. The glow of the fire reflecting on the paintings on the wall, the chest at the foot of the bed. A figure now stirred from slumber. I froze and a few moments felt like forever until they went back to their deep slumber. They seemed restful.
One by one, the items came off. First a boot, then the other, then my rings, and suddenly I was standing in my underwear. I did it. I got back home without being caught. As I stepped towards the bed I suddenly lost my balance and fell backwards - I forgot to take off my damn headgear.
As I fell everything felt like it was slow motion. I heard the clatter of my helmet hit the floor. The sudden rush of wind as the bedsheets pulled back from the bed. The panic as I became aware that I’d been caught. And I needed an excuse as to why I was home so late.
Staring at me with a hollow look in her eyes I stammered my excuses in response to questions which were never asked aloud.
Silence hung the air like a diaspora with me standing here in my sun covered underwear. Time stretched out forever and suddenly there was a movement. It was subtle, unassuming. But suddenly there was a pea in her hand.
We locked stares. I’m not sure what came next but I recall her deep red pupils gazing into mine. The pea flying from her hand and I distinctly recall tracing the arc of its trajectory across the room. I remember it smacking the chest.
Silence. A brief giggle in the dark. I felt relieved. It was going to be fine.
Then the chest opened. And it stood up |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | They mocked me. Laughed at me. Of course I had to be the one who played Cities:Skylines last. My superpower? The amazing ability to cut through government red tape and expedite municipal construction projects.
For the first time, parks were being built, streets were being paved, and businesses were moving in, all on time and on budget. I could even terraform to a limited degree. If I lowered the terrain in the area I would have to raise it elsewhere. I only had a limited amount of dirt I could keep suspended in my pocket universe you see.
I had complete dictatorial control of the city. Taxes went up and down as I wished. I raised taxes temporarily to generate huge influxes of cash so often I lost count, and I had no elections to fear.
But the others laughed. "Have fun with your budgets!" They'd say, sneering. But little did they know I'd have the last laugh. A lot of them still drove. Their characters weren't superheroes, not most of them. Imagine their surprise when I showed up to their city and started redirecting lanes. The look on solid snake's face when I directed his turn lane to the far lane on the highway so everybody had to cut across three lanes. He sat there, inching his way forward, starting listfully at the clear, open lane he found himself utterly unable to use. It was like the car was on a set of tracks.
I did it to them all. They wouldn't have laughed at me had they known I had installed the traffic manager mod. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | They mocked me. Laughed at me. Of course I had to be the one who played Cities:Skylines last. My superpower? The amazing ability to cut through government red tape and expedite municipal construction projects.
For the first time, parks were being built, streets were being paved, and businesses were moving in, all on time and on budget. I could even terraform to a limited degree. If I lowered the terrain in the area I would have to raise it elsewhere. I only had a limited amount of dirt I could keep suspended in my pocket universe you see.
I had complete dictatorial control of the city. Taxes went up and down as I wished. I raised taxes temporarily to generate huge influxes of cash so often I lost count, and I had no elections to fear.
But the others laughed. "Have fun with your budgets!" They'd say, sneering. But little did they know I'd have the last laugh. A lot of them still drove. Their characters weren't superheroes, not most of them. Imagine their surprise when I showed up to their city and started redirecting lanes. The look on solid snake's face when I directed his turn lane to the far lane on the highway so everybody had to cut across three lanes. He sat there, inching his way forward, starting listfully at the clear, open lane he found himself utterly unable to use. It was like the car was on a set of tracks.
I did it to them all. They wouldn't have laughed at me had they known I had installed the traffic manager mod. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | They mocked me. Laughed at me. Of course I had to be the one who played Cities:Skylines last. My superpower? The amazing ability to cut through government red tape and expedite municipal construction projects.
For the first time, parks were being built, streets were being paved, and businesses were moving in, all on time and on budget. I could even terraform to a limited degree. If I lowered the terrain in the area I would have to raise it elsewhere. I only had a limited amount of dirt I could keep suspended in my pocket universe you see.
I had complete dictatorial control of the city. Taxes went up and down as I wished. I raised taxes temporarily to generate huge influxes of cash so often I lost count, and I had no elections to fear.
But the others laughed. "Have fun with your budgets!" They'd say, sneering. But little did they know I'd have the last laugh. A lot of them still drove. Their characters weren't superheroes, not most of them. Imagine their surprise when I showed up to their city and started redirecting lanes. The look on solid snake's face when I directed his turn lane to the far lane on the highway so everybody had to cut across three lanes. He sat there, inching his way forward, starting listfully at the clear, open lane he found himself utterly unable to use. It was like the car was on a set of tracks.
I did it to them all. They wouldn't have laughed at me had they known I had installed the traffic manager mod. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | You know, in hindsight, I shouldn’t complain, but you know.
I really want to.
When the “Lottery” happened, many individuals got ultra powerful, well, powers, at their disposal. Practically gods in their own right. Others were just excellent marksmen, builders, soldiers, bartenders, others monsters, behemoths, and creatures from the depths of hell and the ocean floor.
Me, on the other hand.
I had recently installed an old childhood game of mine that had been remade. Or rather, Rewritten. See, I loved Toontown as a kid, and played it quite a bit, and recently, I got back into playing it. And well, here I am. Some normal guy, with the powers and abilities of a Toon.
Can’t say it’s all bad, the teleportation power is nice, along with basically invulnerability, and not to mention all the other crazy stuff I could just pull from nowhere. But at the same time, when someone finds out you got the powers of the toon, they want a show.
More accurately, the “gods” of this world want to see just what they can do to you. See, Toontown toons are the “squash and stretch” variety. We can be pulled apart, blown up, sliced in half, lose limbs, and everything, but always be put back together just fine. It gets annoying however, when you’re just walking around town, and Link wannabe goes “HYA” and cuts you in half, and you have to grab your legs before they run off on their own. It’s frustrating to say the least.
But hey, I really can’t complain.
I can do the same thing to them. | “Hit or miss. I guess Poland never misses, huh? They’ve got Allies, but I bet they’ll never help them!” I slam my pink gloved hand on the podium as the crowd cheers at my words. My sleek long black hair flowing in the wind, and my well cropped mustache commanding authority over the crowd. I’ve heard my critics talk; am I a man or a woman? Truthfully, I cannot say. After the transformation, this pink schoolgirl outfit fuzed itself to my body. All I know is that, ever since that fateful day while playing HOI IV, my name is Trap Hitler. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | “Hit or miss. I guess Poland never misses, huh? They’ve got Allies, but I bet they’ll never help them!” I slam my pink gloved hand on the podium as the crowd cheers at my words. My sleek long black hair flowing in the wind, and my well cropped mustache commanding authority over the crowd. I’ve heard my critics talk; am I a man or a woman? Truthfully, I cannot say. After the transformation, this pink schoolgirl outfit fuzed itself to my body. All I know is that, ever since that fateful day while playing HOI IV, my name is Trap Hitler. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | You know, the oldest games didn't have much room for a story, simple as they were. However, the people who played them would grow up to develop the next generation of games. And the next, and the next. The thing about games is that they allow you to immerse yourself in the world. An escape from the real world, as it is. The newer devs grew up playing the games of the generation before. They knew of the power of immersion, and they strived to make their own games ever more immersive.
But there was a slight hitch. You, as the player, would typically put yourself in the shoes of the protagonist, who would then go on to save the world or whatever it is that these protagonists do. This works fine if the player and the protagonist are in sync. But if the protagonist tries to do something the player wouldn't, immersion is lost, however briefly. The later generations of game devs knew that, and tried to make a protagonist that appealed to everyone. And thus the silent protagonist was born. Silent, devoid of emotion, they would react as their surroundings warrented, but otherwise served only as an avatar for the player to fit in. Over time, this idea became embedded in gaming culture. Nearly every game would go on to have some varient of it. And people loved it.
Who would have thought that this seemingly innocuous idea would have been our downfall? For on that fated day, when the Gamer Crisis began, those who were avid gamers recieved the powers of the protagonists they so much enjoyed. But the powers were not just powers. They became The Silent Ones. Psychopathic murder machines, killing indiscriminately to further their own goals. Governments tried to take them under their wings at first. They succeeded too, at least partially. Having an army of Silent Ones under their command was a parameter of the countries' military might. That is, until the Silent Ones began to move. With all the corruption rampant in the modern world, the Silent Ones deemed the governments the source of all evil and started to tear them down. Tear everything down. Society as we knew it is now no more. We now live in a vaguely tribal society, scavenging the rubble, barely sustaining ourselves and whoever else was lucky enough to survive. Crimes are nonexistant, everybody is terrified of being labeled a bandit. The last one to do it had his head cut clean off in the middle of the street. And then they demanded a reward. A reward! For killing Sammy! Sure he was stealing, but he had a sick young daughter! We knew! We would have given him the bread anyways!
Sorry for that. I have tried to keep a low profile for oh, so long. I don't want to die either. But you know, sometimes your hand is forced. Most of the gamers who recieved power were the Silent Ones. But there are a few like me who have retained their humanity. Those that were found out early either joined or died. But still more survived. And we are getting ready to push back. This is our Burning Crusade. Are we the villians in this story? Perhaps. But one thing is for sure. There are no heroes left in this world. | “Hit or miss. I guess Poland never misses, huh? They’ve got Allies, but I bet they’ll never help them!” I slam my pink gloved hand on the podium as the crowd cheers at my words. My sleek long black hair flowing in the wind, and my well cropped mustache commanding authority over the crowd. I’ve heard my critics talk; am I a man or a woman? Truthfully, I cannot say. After the transformation, this pink schoolgirl outfit fuzed itself to my body. All I know is that, ever since that fateful day while playing HOI IV, my name is Trap Hitler. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | If you're reading this, then I have probably been gone for some time now. See, after the random power surge that started all this mess, I have been thinking. And I have been thinking hard. And I'm tired of all this.
The world has changed, and it has changed into something so grotesque, I hate it now. At first, it was pretty civil. There were people left and right, running around, trying out and testing their powers, seeing what they can do. I had some pretty good in-game experiences, and I just didn't want people to know I had powers, so I just hid in my room and watch it all play out. The news were full with interviews with all these people, how they got their powers, how it has changed their life and all that jizz. Now there were mages and elves and all kinds of wonderful wizards and witches. I'd even heard of a Witcher spotting in a rural part of Siberia. People had started to realise the potential of this thing and use it for their benefit.
Then things started getting a little out of hand. You would walk down the street and see some Fortniters building in the middle of the road and blocking the traffic. Some wizard accidently Stunned a passerby with their wand and the victim's family pressed charges on them. Soon there were incidents left and right; incidents of bank robberies, theft and murders. Fortunately for us, a group of superheros banded together and rounded the ones getting out of line.
Nowadays, things have gotten quiter. Sure, most of the bad guys have been put in jail by now, and the superheros patrol the streets. Everyone else seems happy about it. But I just can't help but wonder.
Why are the super heroes doing this for free?
I mean, one moment you had family, bills and mortgages to pay, stuffs to do and the next you just leave to patrol the streets for free? No one does anything for free.
I didn't want to; trust me I really didn't want to use my powers. But I had to. So I got out one fine weekend and decided to see what I can find. Of course, I used a disguise. And I must say, I wished I had gone out sooner.
Now, I do not know if you understand the full extent of my powers, so I'd just like to clear a few things out now. See when the surge happened, I was playing Minecraft in 2019 with multiple mods on. I know, some people would have disapproved but here I am. Anyway, I wanted to try out a new redstone contraption so I had just jumped into creative mode. I had most of my armour intact and enabled then and just as I was going to flip the lever, it happened. So now, I could have infinite materials, teleport or go through anything in Spectator mode.
So back to the present, I started by spying on the superheros. I went to their headquarters and saw the papers. Apparently they were hired by the government on contract. Basically, they could go anywhere and do anything they wanted to anyone without the government interfering at all. That's just anarchy. And everyone was celebrating it. Next, I found a paycheck from a government facility, so naturally I teleported there next. I do not wish to recall what I saw there, because to this day, I wish I could erase it from my mind. The government was experimenting on the prisoners and trying to figure out a way to replicate the effect and build a super army. The most horrifying part was, because of respawn enabled, most of the prisoners were probed to death only to be revived moments later and continued on.
I could not sleep that night. And with all this power at my fingertips, I felt helpless. This was one government facility in one country. Imagine what a powerful country with billions of dollars in military spending. I am but one man. What can I do?
I can't. There is nothing I can do really. Going against the government means going against the superheros too. Even if I win over them all, then what? Become a ruler? I don't know jackshit about politics let alone ruling the world. Form a government? Another government would rise and they would do the same. There is no point in doing anything at all. So I've decided.
I'll be moving to my underground bunker I've built under the basement of my house. I have built my food and resources farm and my own mine system. I'll be enjoying at my crafting station as I smell the sweet smell of iron smelting. I'll travel to the nether. I'll kill the Ender Dragon for the 100th time. I'll built the most glorious Minecraft bunker the world is never going to see. Maybe years from now, after most of the humans die to a nuclear attack, I'll rise in the ashes of the fallout. We'll see.
Edit: sorry for the bad English, it's my second language. I hope you enjoy. | “Hit or miss. I guess Poland never misses, huh? They’ve got Allies, but I bet they’ll never help them!” I slam my pink gloved hand on the podium as the crowd cheers at my words. My sleek long black hair flowing in the wind, and my well cropped mustache commanding authority over the crowd. I’ve heard my critics talk; am I a man or a woman? Truthfully, I cannot say. After the transformation, this pink schoolgirl outfit fuzed itself to my body. All I know is that, ever since that fateful day while playing HOI IV, my name is Trap Hitler. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | “Hit or miss. I guess Poland never misses, huh? They’ve got Allies, but I bet they’ll never help them!” I slam my pink gloved hand on the podium as the crowd cheers at my words. My sleek long black hair flowing in the wind, and my well cropped mustache commanding authority over the crowd. I’ve heard my critics talk; am I a man or a woman? Truthfully, I cannot say. After the transformation, this pink schoolgirl outfit fuzed itself to my body. All I know is that, ever since that fateful day while playing HOI IV, my name is Trap Hitler. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | “Hit or miss. I guess Poland never misses, huh? They’ve got Allies, but I bet they’ll never help them!” I slam my pink gloved hand on the podium as the crowd cheers at my words. My sleek long black hair flowing in the wind, and my well cropped mustache commanding authority over the crowd. I’ve heard my critics talk; am I a man or a woman? Truthfully, I cannot say. After the transformation, this pink schoolgirl outfit fuzed itself to my body. All I know is that, ever since that fateful day while playing HOI IV, my name is Trap Hitler. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | I could have been a Khajit, or an Argonian. At the very least I could have gone a mage or stealth build so I could summon Daedric beasts or pickpocket unsuspecting people. But on my sixth play-through of Skyrim, I decided to play as a Redguard. That’s right, instead of choosing one of the cool beastial classes, I just chose a human. To make it worse, I was a two-handed brawler Redguard, meaning I threw all my perk points into swinging harder and having more stamina, instead of putting points into spells like throwing fire balls, healing, spewing ice, etc.
I mean, to be fair, I didn’t know I would absorb the powers of my character, and although I definitely got the short end of the stick, I can still use two-handed axes and swords pretty well, I can carry around a seemingly limitless amount of stuff, and I can instantly eat food to heal myself. Oh, and I can also shout in Dohazul, the dragon language, which causes weird stuff to happen.
Of course, when a thousand people were given superpowers, chaos erupted. Governments tried to control the individuals, and personal quarrels became large-scale, destructive fights with many casualties. I tried to lay low, but when the fighting started getting close to my city, I couldn’t just sit still.
Mario was far away, but I could still see him. In fact, standing six-hundred feet tall, everyone in the city could. At first, everyone thought Mario was one of the weaker ones, but as he discovered the millions of mushrooms on Earth to feed his unlimited potential for growth, he quickly became one of the most feared. Standing on the ground with my four-foot long battle axe, I had no chance to fight him directly, but I had a plan.
“Hey Buddy, why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
I was far away but I was blessed with the power of being able to shout ridiculously loud. Mario looked right at me, and didn’t say anything, but started sprinting, beelining towards my way, trampling through city blocks as I prepared my vocal chords once again.
“OD AH VIING!” I remembered the words from my hundreds of hours spent playing Skyrim. This, in Dohazul, the dragon language, meant Snow Hunter Wing, and summoned the mighty dragon Odahviing, who would definitely be strong enough to destroy Mario. As soon as I uttered the last syllable of the shout, everything turned silent, and the air grew thick. I knew what was coming and excitedly waited in anticipation to watch Mario get completely obliterated. In the distance I heard Odahviing’s roar—or, wait, why is it so high-pitched?—no, it’s a horn?—is that a train? As Thomas the Tank Engine massive smiling face came soaring from out of the clouds, I remembered that I had actually modded Skyrim during this play through.
“Shit.”
The Thomas the Tank Engine mod, which turned all dragons into Thomas the Tank Engine, was one of the most popular Skyrim mods, and I decided to try it just for fun, and now I’m fucked. But Mario was still approaching, and while it’s no Odahviing, Thomas the Tank Engine was still a force to be reckoned with. I prepared my weapon, and charged right towards Mario.
“Toot toot Motherfucker” | “Hit or miss. I guess Poland never misses, huh? They’ve got Allies, but I bet they’ll never help them!” I slam my pink gloved hand on the podium as the crowd cheers at my words. My sleek long black hair flowing in the wind, and my well cropped mustache commanding authority over the crowd. I’ve heard my critics talk; am I a man or a woman? Truthfully, I cannot say. After the transformation, this pink schoolgirl outfit fuzed itself to my body. All I know is that, ever since that fateful day while playing HOI IV, my name is Trap Hitler. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | You know, in hindsight, I shouldn’t complain, but you know.
I really want to.
When the “Lottery” happened, many individuals got ultra powerful, well, powers, at their disposal. Practically gods in their own right. Others were just excellent marksmen, builders, soldiers, bartenders, others monsters, behemoths, and creatures from the depths of hell and the ocean floor.
Me, on the other hand.
I had recently installed an old childhood game of mine that had been remade. Or rather, Rewritten. See, I loved Toontown as a kid, and played it quite a bit, and recently, I got back into playing it. And well, here I am. Some normal guy, with the powers and abilities of a Toon.
Can’t say it’s all bad, the teleportation power is nice, along with basically invulnerability, and not to mention all the other crazy stuff I could just pull from nowhere. But at the same time, when someone finds out you got the powers of the toon, they want a show.
More accurately, the “gods” of this world want to see just what they can do to you. See, Toontown toons are the “squash and stretch” variety. We can be pulled apart, blown up, sliced in half, lose limbs, and everything, but always be put back together just fine. It gets annoying however, when you’re just walking around town, and Link wannabe goes “HYA” and cuts you in half, and you have to grab your legs before they run off on their own. It’s frustrating to say the least.
But hey, I really can’t complain.
I can do the same thing to them. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | You know, in hindsight, I shouldn’t complain, but you know.
I really want to.
When the “Lottery” happened, many individuals got ultra powerful, well, powers, at their disposal. Practically gods in their own right. Others were just excellent marksmen, builders, soldiers, bartenders, others monsters, behemoths, and creatures from the depths of hell and the ocean floor.
Me, on the other hand.
I had recently installed an old childhood game of mine that had been remade. Or rather, Rewritten. See, I loved Toontown as a kid, and played it quite a bit, and recently, I got back into playing it. And well, here I am. Some normal guy, with the powers and abilities of a Toon.
Can’t say it’s all bad, the teleportation power is nice, along with basically invulnerability, and not to mention all the other crazy stuff I could just pull from nowhere. But at the same time, when someone finds out you got the powers of the toon, they want a show.
More accurately, the “gods” of this world want to see just what they can do to you. See, Toontown toons are the “squash and stretch” variety. We can be pulled apart, blown up, sliced in half, lose limbs, and everything, but always be put back together just fine. It gets annoying however, when you’re just walking around town, and Link wannabe goes “HYA” and cuts you in half, and you have to grab your legs before they run off on their own. It’s frustrating to say the least.
But hey, I really can’t complain.
I can do the same thing to them. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | You know, in hindsight, I shouldn’t complain, but you know.
I really want to.
When the “Lottery” happened, many individuals got ultra powerful, well, powers, at their disposal. Practically gods in their own right. Others were just excellent marksmen, builders, soldiers, bartenders, others monsters, behemoths, and creatures from the depths of hell and the ocean floor.
Me, on the other hand.
I had recently installed an old childhood game of mine that had been remade. Or rather, Rewritten. See, I loved Toontown as a kid, and played it quite a bit, and recently, I got back into playing it. And well, here I am. Some normal guy, with the powers and abilities of a Toon.
Can’t say it’s all bad, the teleportation power is nice, along with basically invulnerability, and not to mention all the other crazy stuff I could just pull from nowhere. But at the same time, when someone finds out you got the powers of the toon, they want a show.
More accurately, the “gods” of this world want to see just what they can do to you. See, Toontown toons are the “squash and stretch” variety. We can be pulled apart, blown up, sliced in half, lose limbs, and everything, but always be put back together just fine. It gets annoying however, when you’re just walking around town, and Link wannabe goes “HYA” and cuts you in half, and you have to grab your legs before they run off on their own. It’s frustrating to say the least.
But hey, I really can’t complain.
I can do the same thing to them. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | If you're reading this, then I have probably been gone for some time now. See, after the random power surge that started all this mess, I have been thinking. And I have been thinking hard. And I'm tired of all this.
The world has changed, and it has changed into something so grotesque, I hate it now. At first, it was pretty civil. There were people left and right, running around, trying out and testing their powers, seeing what they can do. I had some pretty good in-game experiences, and I just didn't want people to know I had powers, so I just hid in my room and watch it all play out. The news were full with interviews with all these people, how they got their powers, how it has changed their life and all that jizz. Now there were mages and elves and all kinds of wonderful wizards and witches. I'd even heard of a Witcher spotting in a rural part of Siberia. People had started to realise the potential of this thing and use it for their benefit.
Then things started getting a little out of hand. You would walk down the street and see some Fortniters building in the middle of the road and blocking the traffic. Some wizard accidently Stunned a passerby with their wand and the victim's family pressed charges on them. Soon there were incidents left and right; incidents of bank robberies, theft and murders. Fortunately for us, a group of superheros banded together and rounded the ones getting out of line.
Nowadays, things have gotten quiter. Sure, most of the bad guys have been put in jail by now, and the superheros patrol the streets. Everyone else seems happy about it. But I just can't help but wonder.
Why are the super heroes doing this for free?
I mean, one moment you had family, bills and mortgages to pay, stuffs to do and the next you just leave to patrol the streets for free? No one does anything for free.
I didn't want to; trust me I really didn't want to use my powers. But I had to. So I got out one fine weekend and decided to see what I can find. Of course, I used a disguise. And I must say, I wished I had gone out sooner.
Now, I do not know if you understand the full extent of my powers, so I'd just like to clear a few things out now. See when the surge happened, I was playing Minecraft in 2019 with multiple mods on. I know, some people would have disapproved but here I am. Anyway, I wanted to try out a new redstone contraption so I had just jumped into creative mode. I had most of my armour intact and enabled then and just as I was going to flip the lever, it happened. So now, I could have infinite materials, teleport or go through anything in Spectator mode.
So back to the present, I started by spying on the superheros. I went to their headquarters and saw the papers. Apparently they were hired by the government on contract. Basically, they could go anywhere and do anything they wanted to anyone without the government interfering at all. That's just anarchy. And everyone was celebrating it. Next, I found a paycheck from a government facility, so naturally I teleported there next. I do not wish to recall what I saw there, because to this day, I wish I could erase it from my mind. The government was experimenting on the prisoners and trying to figure out a way to replicate the effect and build a super army. The most horrifying part was, because of respawn enabled, most of the prisoners were probed to death only to be revived moments later and continued on.
I could not sleep that night. And with all this power at my fingertips, I felt helpless. This was one government facility in one country. Imagine what a powerful country with billions of dollars in military spending. I am but one man. What can I do?
I can't. There is nothing I can do really. Going against the government means going against the superheros too. Even if I win over them all, then what? Become a ruler? I don't know jackshit about politics let alone ruling the world. Form a government? Another government would rise and they would do the same. There is no point in doing anything at all. So I've decided.
I'll be moving to my underground bunker I've built under the basement of my house. I have built my food and resources farm and my own mine system. I'll be enjoying at my crafting station as I smell the sweet smell of iron smelting. I'll travel to the nether. I'll kill the Ender Dragon for the 100th time. I'll built the most glorious Minecraft bunker the world is never going to see. Maybe years from now, after most of the humans die to a nuclear attack, I'll rise in the ashes of the fallout. We'll see.
Edit: sorry for the bad English, it's my second language. I hope you enjoy. | You know, the oldest games didn't have much room for a story, simple as they were. However, the people who played them would grow up to develop the next generation of games. And the next, and the next. The thing about games is that they allow you to immerse yourself in the world. An escape from the real world, as it is. The newer devs grew up playing the games of the generation before. They knew of the power of immersion, and they strived to make their own games ever more immersive.
But there was a slight hitch. You, as the player, would typically put yourself in the shoes of the protagonist, who would then go on to save the world or whatever it is that these protagonists do. This works fine if the player and the protagonist are in sync. But if the protagonist tries to do something the player wouldn't, immersion is lost, however briefly. The later generations of game devs knew that, and tried to make a protagonist that appealed to everyone. And thus the silent protagonist was born. Silent, devoid of emotion, they would react as their surroundings warrented, but otherwise served only as an avatar for the player to fit in. Over time, this idea became embedded in gaming culture. Nearly every game would go on to have some varient of it. And people loved it.
Who would have thought that this seemingly innocuous idea would have been our downfall? For on that fated day, when the Gamer Crisis began, those who were avid gamers recieved the powers of the protagonists they so much enjoyed. But the powers were not just powers. They became The Silent Ones. Psychopathic murder machines, killing indiscriminately to further their own goals. Governments tried to take them under their wings at first. They succeeded too, at least partially. Having an army of Silent Ones under their command was a parameter of the countries' military might. That is, until the Silent Ones began to move. With all the corruption rampant in the modern world, the Silent Ones deemed the governments the source of all evil and started to tear them down. Tear everything down. Society as we knew it is now no more. We now live in a vaguely tribal society, scavenging the rubble, barely sustaining ourselves and whoever else was lucky enough to survive. Crimes are nonexistant, everybody is terrified of being labeled a bandit. The last one to do it had his head cut clean off in the middle of the street. And then they demanded a reward. A reward! For killing Sammy! Sure he was stealing, but he had a sick young daughter! We knew! We would have given him the bread anyways!
Sorry for that. I have tried to keep a low profile for oh, so long. I don't want to die either. But you know, sometimes your hand is forced. Most of the gamers who recieved power were the Silent Ones. But there are a few like me who have retained their humanity. Those that were found out early either joined or died. But still more survived. And we are getting ready to push back. This is our Burning Crusade. Are we the villians in this story? Perhaps. But one thing is for sure. There are no heroes left in this world. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | You know, the oldest games didn't have much room for a story, simple as they were. However, the people who played them would grow up to develop the next generation of games. And the next, and the next. The thing about games is that they allow you to immerse yourself in the world. An escape from the real world, as it is. The newer devs grew up playing the games of the generation before. They knew of the power of immersion, and they strived to make their own games ever more immersive.
But there was a slight hitch. You, as the player, would typically put yourself in the shoes of the protagonist, who would then go on to save the world or whatever it is that these protagonists do. This works fine if the player and the protagonist are in sync. But if the protagonist tries to do something the player wouldn't, immersion is lost, however briefly. The later generations of game devs knew that, and tried to make a protagonist that appealed to everyone. And thus the silent protagonist was born. Silent, devoid of emotion, they would react as their surroundings warrented, but otherwise served only as an avatar for the player to fit in. Over time, this idea became embedded in gaming culture. Nearly every game would go on to have some varient of it. And people loved it.
Who would have thought that this seemingly innocuous idea would have been our downfall? For on that fated day, when the Gamer Crisis began, those who were avid gamers recieved the powers of the protagonists they so much enjoyed. But the powers were not just powers. They became The Silent Ones. Psychopathic murder machines, killing indiscriminately to further their own goals. Governments tried to take them under their wings at first. They succeeded too, at least partially. Having an army of Silent Ones under their command was a parameter of the countries' military might. That is, until the Silent Ones began to move. With all the corruption rampant in the modern world, the Silent Ones deemed the governments the source of all evil and started to tear them down. Tear everything down. Society as we knew it is now no more. We now live in a vaguely tribal society, scavenging the rubble, barely sustaining ourselves and whoever else was lucky enough to survive. Crimes are nonexistant, everybody is terrified of being labeled a bandit. The last one to do it had his head cut clean off in the middle of the street. And then they demanded a reward. A reward! For killing Sammy! Sure he was stealing, but he had a sick young daughter! We knew! We would have given him the bread anyways!
Sorry for that. I have tried to keep a low profile for oh, so long. I don't want to die either. But you know, sometimes your hand is forced. Most of the gamers who recieved power were the Silent Ones. But there are a few like me who have retained their humanity. Those that were found out early either joined or died. But still more survived. And we are getting ready to push back. This is our Burning Crusade. Are we the villians in this story? Perhaps. But one thing is for sure. There are no heroes left in this world. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | You know, the oldest games didn't have much room for a story, simple as they were. However, the people who played them would grow up to develop the next generation of games. And the next, and the next. The thing about games is that they allow you to immerse yourself in the world. An escape from the real world, as it is. The newer devs grew up playing the games of the generation before. They knew of the power of immersion, and they strived to make their own games ever more immersive.
But there was a slight hitch. You, as the player, would typically put yourself in the shoes of the protagonist, who would then go on to save the world or whatever it is that these protagonists do. This works fine if the player and the protagonist are in sync. But if the protagonist tries to do something the player wouldn't, immersion is lost, however briefly. The later generations of game devs knew that, and tried to make a protagonist that appealed to everyone. And thus the silent protagonist was born. Silent, devoid of emotion, they would react as their surroundings warrented, but otherwise served only as an avatar for the player to fit in. Over time, this idea became embedded in gaming culture. Nearly every game would go on to have some varient of it. And people loved it.
Who would have thought that this seemingly innocuous idea would have been our downfall? For on that fated day, when the Gamer Crisis began, those who were avid gamers recieved the powers of the protagonists they so much enjoyed. But the powers were not just powers. They became The Silent Ones. Psychopathic murder machines, killing indiscriminately to further their own goals. Governments tried to take them under their wings at first. They succeeded too, at least partially. Having an army of Silent Ones under their command was a parameter of the countries' military might. That is, until the Silent Ones began to move. With all the corruption rampant in the modern world, the Silent Ones deemed the governments the source of all evil and started to tear them down. Tear everything down. Society as we knew it is now no more. We now live in a vaguely tribal society, scavenging the rubble, barely sustaining ourselves and whoever else was lucky enough to survive. Crimes are nonexistant, everybody is terrified of being labeled a bandit. The last one to do it had his head cut clean off in the middle of the street. And then they demanded a reward. A reward! For killing Sammy! Sure he was stealing, but he had a sick young daughter! We knew! We would have given him the bread anyways!
Sorry for that. I have tried to keep a low profile for oh, so long. I don't want to die either. But you know, sometimes your hand is forced. Most of the gamers who recieved power were the Silent Ones. But there are a few like me who have retained their humanity. Those that were found out early either joined or died. But still more survived. And we are getting ready to push back. This is our Burning Crusade. Are we the villians in this story? Perhaps. But one thing is for sure. There are no heroes left in this world. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | If you're reading this, then I have probably been gone for some time now. See, after the random power surge that started all this mess, I have been thinking. And I have been thinking hard. And I'm tired of all this.
The world has changed, and it has changed into something so grotesque, I hate it now. At first, it was pretty civil. There were people left and right, running around, trying out and testing their powers, seeing what they can do. I had some pretty good in-game experiences, and I just didn't want people to know I had powers, so I just hid in my room and watch it all play out. The news were full with interviews with all these people, how they got their powers, how it has changed their life and all that jizz. Now there were mages and elves and all kinds of wonderful wizards and witches. I'd even heard of a Witcher spotting in a rural part of Siberia. People had started to realise the potential of this thing and use it for their benefit.
Then things started getting a little out of hand. You would walk down the street and see some Fortniters building in the middle of the road and blocking the traffic. Some wizard accidently Stunned a passerby with their wand and the victim's family pressed charges on them. Soon there were incidents left and right; incidents of bank robberies, theft and murders. Fortunately for us, a group of superheros banded together and rounded the ones getting out of line.
Nowadays, things have gotten quiter. Sure, most of the bad guys have been put in jail by now, and the superheros patrol the streets. Everyone else seems happy about it. But I just can't help but wonder.
Why are the super heroes doing this for free?
I mean, one moment you had family, bills and mortgages to pay, stuffs to do and the next you just leave to patrol the streets for free? No one does anything for free.
I didn't want to; trust me I really didn't want to use my powers. But I had to. So I got out one fine weekend and decided to see what I can find. Of course, I used a disguise. And I must say, I wished I had gone out sooner.
Now, I do not know if you understand the full extent of my powers, so I'd just like to clear a few things out now. See when the surge happened, I was playing Minecraft in 2019 with multiple mods on. I know, some people would have disapproved but here I am. Anyway, I wanted to try out a new redstone contraption so I had just jumped into creative mode. I had most of my armour intact and enabled then and just as I was going to flip the lever, it happened. So now, I could have infinite materials, teleport or go through anything in Spectator mode.
So back to the present, I started by spying on the superheros. I went to their headquarters and saw the papers. Apparently they were hired by the government on contract. Basically, they could go anywhere and do anything they wanted to anyone without the government interfering at all. That's just anarchy. And everyone was celebrating it. Next, I found a paycheck from a government facility, so naturally I teleported there next. I do not wish to recall what I saw there, because to this day, I wish I could erase it from my mind. The government was experimenting on the prisoners and trying to figure out a way to replicate the effect and build a super army. The most horrifying part was, because of respawn enabled, most of the prisoners were probed to death only to be revived moments later and continued on.
I could not sleep that night. And with all this power at my fingertips, I felt helpless. This was one government facility in one country. Imagine what a powerful country with billions of dollars in military spending. I am but one man. What can I do?
I can't. There is nothing I can do really. Going against the government means going against the superheros too. Even if I win over them all, then what? Become a ruler? I don't know jackshit about politics let alone ruling the world. Form a government? Another government would rise and they would do the same. There is no point in doing anything at all. So I've decided.
I'll be moving to my underground bunker I've built under the basement of my house. I have built my food and resources farm and my own mine system. I'll be enjoying at my crafting station as I smell the sweet smell of iron smelting. I'll travel to the nether. I'll kill the Ender Dragon for the 100th time. I'll built the most glorious Minecraft bunker the world is never going to see. Maybe years from now, after most of the humans die to a nuclear attack, I'll rise in the ashes of the fallout. We'll see.
Edit: sorry for the bad English, it's my second language. I hope you enjoy. | The thing is, there's a lot of video games these days where the tutorials sorta guide you by the hand, and not everything is unlocked when you play it. Sometimes, not until the very end.
The thing is, there was this fad for a while of cover shooters where the people were basically invulnerable, as long as they took cover for a moment and waited for the red to die down. But they had, what, one gun? Maybe two? Good luck finding a vehicle level in real life. Or cover, these days.
The thing is, all the people who were playing lootbox mobile gacha games got shafted, hard. And not just by the lootbox mobile gacha game developers.
The thing is, being a gamedev *now* is something akin to being an indentured nanosurgeon in a cyberpunk future. More valuable for your brain and your work than for your body. But that body still desperately needs protection.
The thing is, when you spend close to twenty-five years obsessively mastering one ancient game (thanks, hyperfocus!), you get *real, real good* at it. And this was an unforgiving game, not too far removed from when you needed quarters to keep playing. The kind of game that set the world on fire, and then slowly became forgotten as people moved on to the dazzling blockbusters it inspired.
The thing is, when you start modding a game, really digging into the guts of it, you can see what makes games function as a whole. You get an eye into not just the code, but game *design*. And when you're modding something so ancient, that knowledge becomes close to something pure. Something you can use in other situations.
The thing is, when everything goes topsy-turvy like that one episode of *Buffy* where everyone got the powers of their Hallowe'en costumes, only this time it's video games, and you're an obsessive who knows an ancient, unforgiving video game famous for how overpowered its protagonist is -- a protagonist that doesn't even have a name -- a protagonist that was the subject of hagiography in the series' later titles -- like the back of his hand, well... you know. Word gets out.
The thing is, all of the people I told you about before have more money than sense. Or powers.
So you can imagine my complete lack of surprise when my phone lit up on top of my BFG-9000. I was in demand. But I was still stunned to see the name on the caller ID.
John Carmack.
I didn't know he was still alive. But I owed the man so much.
Of course I called him back. I'd extract John Carmack from Hell if I had to, even if I had to get knee-deep in the dead to do it.
So thanks, modern game design. I'll be getting a real sense of pride and accomplishment from this one. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | The thing is, there's a lot of video games these days where the tutorials sorta guide you by the hand, and not everything is unlocked when you play it. Sometimes, not until the very end.
The thing is, there was this fad for a while of cover shooters where the people were basically invulnerable, as long as they took cover for a moment and waited for the red to die down. But they had, what, one gun? Maybe two? Good luck finding a vehicle level in real life. Or cover, these days.
The thing is, all the people who were playing lootbox mobile gacha games got shafted, hard. And not just by the lootbox mobile gacha game developers.
The thing is, being a gamedev *now* is something akin to being an indentured nanosurgeon in a cyberpunk future. More valuable for your brain and your work than for your body. But that body still desperately needs protection.
The thing is, when you spend close to twenty-five years obsessively mastering one ancient game (thanks, hyperfocus!), you get *real, real good* at it. And this was an unforgiving game, not too far removed from when you needed quarters to keep playing. The kind of game that set the world on fire, and then slowly became forgotten as people moved on to the dazzling blockbusters it inspired.
The thing is, when you start modding a game, really digging into the guts of it, you can see what makes games function as a whole. You get an eye into not just the code, but game *design*. And when you're modding something so ancient, that knowledge becomes close to something pure. Something you can use in other situations.
The thing is, when everything goes topsy-turvy like that one episode of *Buffy* where everyone got the powers of their Hallowe'en costumes, only this time it's video games, and you're an obsessive who knows an ancient, unforgiving video game famous for how overpowered its protagonist is -- a protagonist that doesn't even have a name -- a protagonist that was the subject of hagiography in the series' later titles -- like the back of his hand, well... you know. Word gets out.
The thing is, all of the people I told you about before have more money than sense. Or powers.
So you can imagine my complete lack of surprise when my phone lit up on top of my BFG-9000. I was in demand. But I was still stunned to see the name on the caller ID.
John Carmack.
I didn't know he was still alive. But I owed the man so much.
Of course I called him back. I'd extract John Carmack from Hell if I had to, even if I had to get knee-deep in the dead to do it.
So thanks, modern game design. I'll be getting a real sense of pride and accomplishment from this one. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | The thing is, there's a lot of video games these days where the tutorials sorta guide you by the hand, and not everything is unlocked when you play it. Sometimes, not until the very end.
The thing is, there was this fad for a while of cover shooters where the people were basically invulnerable, as long as they took cover for a moment and waited for the red to die down. But they had, what, one gun? Maybe two? Good luck finding a vehicle level in real life. Or cover, these days.
The thing is, all the people who were playing lootbox mobile gacha games got shafted, hard. And not just by the lootbox mobile gacha game developers.
The thing is, being a gamedev *now* is something akin to being an indentured nanosurgeon in a cyberpunk future. More valuable for your brain and your work than for your body. But that body still desperately needs protection.
The thing is, when you spend close to twenty-five years obsessively mastering one ancient game (thanks, hyperfocus!), you get *real, real good* at it. And this was an unforgiving game, not too far removed from when you needed quarters to keep playing. The kind of game that set the world on fire, and then slowly became forgotten as people moved on to the dazzling blockbusters it inspired.
The thing is, when you start modding a game, really digging into the guts of it, you can see what makes games function as a whole. You get an eye into not just the code, but game *design*. And when you're modding something so ancient, that knowledge becomes close to something pure. Something you can use in other situations.
The thing is, when everything goes topsy-turvy like that one episode of *Buffy* where everyone got the powers of their Hallowe'en costumes, only this time it's video games, and you're an obsessive who knows an ancient, unforgiving video game famous for how overpowered its protagonist is -- a protagonist that doesn't even have a name -- a protagonist that was the subject of hagiography in the series' later titles -- like the back of his hand, well... you know. Word gets out.
The thing is, all of the people I told you about before have more money than sense. Or powers.
So you can imagine my complete lack of surprise when my phone lit up on top of my BFG-9000. I was in demand. But I was still stunned to see the name on the caller ID.
John Carmack.
I didn't know he was still alive. But I owed the man so much.
Of course I called him back. I'd extract John Carmack from Hell if I had to, even if I had to get knee-deep in the dead to do it.
So thanks, modern game design. I'll be getting a real sense of pride and accomplishment from this one. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | I could have been a Khajit, or an Argonian. At the very least I could have gone a mage or stealth build so I could summon Daedric beasts or pickpocket unsuspecting people. But on my sixth play-through of Skyrim, I decided to play as a Redguard. That’s right, instead of choosing one of the cool beastial classes, I just chose a human. To make it worse, I was a two-handed brawler Redguard, meaning I threw all my perk points into swinging harder and having more stamina, instead of putting points into spells like throwing fire balls, healing, spewing ice, etc.
I mean, to be fair, I didn’t know I would absorb the powers of my character, and although I definitely got the short end of the stick, I can still use two-handed axes and swords pretty well, I can carry around a seemingly limitless amount of stuff, and I can instantly eat food to heal myself. Oh, and I can also shout in Dohazul, the dragon language, which causes weird stuff to happen.
Of course, when a thousand people were given superpowers, chaos erupted. Governments tried to control the individuals, and personal quarrels became large-scale, destructive fights with many casualties. I tried to lay low, but when the fighting started getting close to my city, I couldn’t just sit still.
Mario was far away, but I could still see him. In fact, standing six-hundred feet tall, everyone in the city could. At first, everyone thought Mario was one of the weaker ones, but as he discovered the millions of mushrooms on Earth to feed his unlimited potential for growth, he quickly became one of the most feared. Standing on the ground with my four-foot long battle axe, I had no chance to fight him directly, but I had a plan.
“Hey Buddy, why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
I was far away but I was blessed with the power of being able to shout ridiculously loud. Mario looked right at me, and didn’t say anything, but started sprinting, beelining towards my way, trampling through city blocks as I prepared my vocal chords once again.
“OD AH VIING!” I remembered the words from my hundreds of hours spent playing Skyrim. This, in Dohazul, the dragon language, meant Snow Hunter Wing, and summoned the mighty dragon Odahviing, who would definitely be strong enough to destroy Mario. As soon as I uttered the last syllable of the shout, everything turned silent, and the air grew thick. I knew what was coming and excitedly waited in anticipation to watch Mario get completely obliterated. In the distance I heard Odahviing’s roar—or, wait, why is it so high-pitched?—no, it’s a horn?—is that a train? As Thomas the Tank Engine massive smiling face came soaring from out of the clouds, I remembered that I had actually modded Skyrim during this play through.
“Shit.”
The Thomas the Tank Engine mod, which turned all dragons into Thomas the Tank Engine, was one of the most popular Skyrim mods, and I decided to try it just for fun, and now I’m fucked. But Mario was still approaching, and while it’s no Odahviing, Thomas the Tank Engine was still a force to be reckoned with. I prepared my weapon, and charged right towards Mario.
“Toot toot Motherfucker” | The thing is, there's a lot of video games these days where the tutorials sorta guide you by the hand, and not everything is unlocked when you play it. Sometimes, not until the very end.
The thing is, there was this fad for a while of cover shooters where the people were basically invulnerable, as long as they took cover for a moment and waited for the red to die down. But they had, what, one gun? Maybe two? Good luck finding a vehicle level in real life. Or cover, these days.
The thing is, all the people who were playing lootbox mobile gacha games got shafted, hard. And not just by the lootbox mobile gacha game developers.
The thing is, being a gamedev *now* is something akin to being an indentured nanosurgeon in a cyberpunk future. More valuable for your brain and your work than for your body. But that body still desperately needs protection.
The thing is, when you spend close to twenty-five years obsessively mastering one ancient game (thanks, hyperfocus!), you get *real, real good* at it. And this was an unforgiving game, not too far removed from when you needed quarters to keep playing. The kind of game that set the world on fire, and then slowly became forgotten as people moved on to the dazzling blockbusters it inspired.
The thing is, when you start modding a game, really digging into the guts of it, you can see what makes games function as a whole. You get an eye into not just the code, but game *design*. And when you're modding something so ancient, that knowledge becomes close to something pure. Something you can use in other situations.
The thing is, when everything goes topsy-turvy like that one episode of *Buffy* where everyone got the powers of their Hallowe'en costumes, only this time it's video games, and you're an obsessive who knows an ancient, unforgiving video game famous for how overpowered its protagonist is -- a protagonist that doesn't even have a name -- a protagonist that was the subject of hagiography in the series' later titles -- like the back of his hand, well... you know. Word gets out.
The thing is, all of the people I told you about before have more money than sense. Or powers.
So you can imagine my complete lack of surprise when my phone lit up on top of my BFG-9000. I was in demand. But I was still stunned to see the name on the caller ID.
John Carmack.
I didn't know he was still alive. But I owed the man so much.
Of course I called him back. I'd extract John Carmack from Hell if I had to, even if I had to get knee-deep in the dead to do it.
So thanks, modern game design. I'll be getting a real sense of pride and accomplishment from this one. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | If you're reading this, then I have probably been gone for some time now. See, after the random power surge that started all this mess, I have been thinking. And I have been thinking hard. And I'm tired of all this.
The world has changed, and it has changed into something so grotesque, I hate it now. At first, it was pretty civil. There were people left and right, running around, trying out and testing their powers, seeing what they can do. I had some pretty good in-game experiences, and I just didn't want people to know I had powers, so I just hid in my room and watch it all play out. The news were full with interviews with all these people, how they got their powers, how it has changed their life and all that jizz. Now there were mages and elves and all kinds of wonderful wizards and witches. I'd even heard of a Witcher spotting in a rural part of Siberia. People had started to realise the potential of this thing and use it for their benefit.
Then things started getting a little out of hand. You would walk down the street and see some Fortniters building in the middle of the road and blocking the traffic. Some wizard accidently Stunned a passerby with their wand and the victim's family pressed charges on them. Soon there were incidents left and right; incidents of bank robberies, theft and murders. Fortunately for us, a group of superheros banded together and rounded the ones getting out of line.
Nowadays, things have gotten quiter. Sure, most of the bad guys have been put in jail by now, and the superheros patrol the streets. Everyone else seems happy about it. But I just can't help but wonder.
Why are the super heroes doing this for free?
I mean, one moment you had family, bills and mortgages to pay, stuffs to do and the next you just leave to patrol the streets for free? No one does anything for free.
I didn't want to; trust me I really didn't want to use my powers. But I had to. So I got out one fine weekend and decided to see what I can find. Of course, I used a disguise. And I must say, I wished I had gone out sooner.
Now, I do not know if you understand the full extent of my powers, so I'd just like to clear a few things out now. See when the surge happened, I was playing Minecraft in 2019 with multiple mods on. I know, some people would have disapproved but here I am. Anyway, I wanted to try out a new redstone contraption so I had just jumped into creative mode. I had most of my armour intact and enabled then and just as I was going to flip the lever, it happened. So now, I could have infinite materials, teleport or go through anything in Spectator mode.
So back to the present, I started by spying on the superheros. I went to their headquarters and saw the papers. Apparently they were hired by the government on contract. Basically, they could go anywhere and do anything they wanted to anyone without the government interfering at all. That's just anarchy. And everyone was celebrating it. Next, I found a paycheck from a government facility, so naturally I teleported there next. I do not wish to recall what I saw there, because to this day, I wish I could erase it from my mind. The government was experimenting on the prisoners and trying to figure out a way to replicate the effect and build a super army. The most horrifying part was, because of respawn enabled, most of the prisoners were probed to death only to be revived moments later and continued on.
I could not sleep that night. And with all this power at my fingertips, I felt helpless. This was one government facility in one country. Imagine what a powerful country with billions of dollars in military spending. I am but one man. What can I do?
I can't. There is nothing I can do really. Going against the government means going against the superheros too. Even if I win over them all, then what? Become a ruler? I don't know jackshit about politics let alone ruling the world. Form a government? Another government would rise and they would do the same. There is no point in doing anything at all. So I've decided.
I'll be moving to my underground bunker I've built under the basement of my house. I have built my food and resources farm and my own mine system. I'll be enjoying at my crafting station as I smell the sweet smell of iron smelting. I'll travel to the nether. I'll kill the Ender Dragon for the 100th time. I'll built the most glorious Minecraft bunker the world is never going to see. Maybe years from now, after most of the humans die to a nuclear attack, I'll rise in the ashes of the fallout. We'll see.
Edit: sorry for the bad English, it's my second language. I hope you enjoy. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | If you're reading this, then I have probably been gone for some time now. See, after the random power surge that started all this mess, I have been thinking. And I have been thinking hard. And I'm tired of all this.
The world has changed, and it has changed into something so grotesque, I hate it now. At first, it was pretty civil. There were people left and right, running around, trying out and testing their powers, seeing what they can do. I had some pretty good in-game experiences, and I just didn't want people to know I had powers, so I just hid in my room and watch it all play out. The news were full with interviews with all these people, how they got their powers, how it has changed their life and all that jizz. Now there were mages and elves and all kinds of wonderful wizards and witches. I'd even heard of a Witcher spotting in a rural part of Siberia. People had started to realise the potential of this thing and use it for their benefit.
Then things started getting a little out of hand. You would walk down the street and see some Fortniters building in the middle of the road and blocking the traffic. Some wizard accidently Stunned a passerby with their wand and the victim's family pressed charges on them. Soon there were incidents left and right; incidents of bank robberies, theft and murders. Fortunately for us, a group of superheros banded together and rounded the ones getting out of line.
Nowadays, things have gotten quiter. Sure, most of the bad guys have been put in jail by now, and the superheros patrol the streets. Everyone else seems happy about it. But I just can't help but wonder.
Why are the super heroes doing this for free?
I mean, one moment you had family, bills and mortgages to pay, stuffs to do and the next you just leave to patrol the streets for free? No one does anything for free.
I didn't want to; trust me I really didn't want to use my powers. But I had to. So I got out one fine weekend and decided to see what I can find. Of course, I used a disguise. And I must say, I wished I had gone out sooner.
Now, I do not know if you understand the full extent of my powers, so I'd just like to clear a few things out now. See when the surge happened, I was playing Minecraft in 2019 with multiple mods on. I know, some people would have disapproved but here I am. Anyway, I wanted to try out a new redstone contraption so I had just jumped into creative mode. I had most of my armour intact and enabled then and just as I was going to flip the lever, it happened. So now, I could have infinite materials, teleport or go through anything in Spectator mode.
So back to the present, I started by spying on the superheros. I went to their headquarters and saw the papers. Apparently they were hired by the government on contract. Basically, they could go anywhere and do anything they wanted to anyone without the government interfering at all. That's just anarchy. And everyone was celebrating it. Next, I found a paycheck from a government facility, so naturally I teleported there next. I do not wish to recall what I saw there, because to this day, I wish I could erase it from my mind. The government was experimenting on the prisoners and trying to figure out a way to replicate the effect and build a super army. The most horrifying part was, because of respawn enabled, most of the prisoners were probed to death only to be revived moments later and continued on.
I could not sleep that night. And with all this power at my fingertips, I felt helpless. This was one government facility in one country. Imagine what a powerful country with billions of dollars in military spending. I am but one man. What can I do?
I can't. There is nothing I can do really. Going against the government means going against the superheros too. Even if I win over them all, then what? Become a ruler? I don't know jackshit about politics let alone ruling the world. Form a government? Another government would rise and they would do the same. There is no point in doing anything at all. So I've decided.
I'll be moving to my underground bunker I've built under the basement of my house. I have built my food and resources farm and my own mine system. I'll be enjoying at my crafting station as I smell the sweet smell of iron smelting. I'll travel to the nether. I'll kill the Ender Dragon for the 100th time. I'll built the most glorious Minecraft bunker the world is never going to see. Maybe years from now, after most of the humans die to a nuclear attack, I'll rise in the ashes of the fallout. We'll see.
Edit: sorry for the bad English, it's my second language. I hope you enjoy. |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | I sigh as I get slammed into a locker again. It's not hard. A small push and then close the door. See, before this whole shebang, I was a hefty guy, nerdy, and always on my laptop. The casual gamers and jocks only ever played games like Call of Duty or Fifa, etc. They have extremely fast reflexes and reaction times, but we're still jocks and casuals, not superheroes. Other, more intense gamers became powerful mages, strong Paladins or Warriors with amazing physical prowess, Necromancers or Cyborgs who can control armies of their spawn, but not me.
I was a modder. I was working on a mod for a fantasy sandbox game I enjoyed, and then The Day arrived. I was testing my mod when my hands became sticky and translucent. I looks at my chest to see nothing but a translucent blue for my body. I became a Slime.
People just think I'm just fodder. They think I'm a pushover; but I was playing a Sandbox game. I have a few notable powers involved with being a Slime in a Sandbox game. I have the power of Creation and the power of Transformation.
I can transform into whoever or whatever I want. In the Slime mod I made, I kept the properties of the slime while adding the ability to transform into anything, and anyone, I want. No need for food, only water. No need for a bed to sleep, only a bowl. As long as I don't dry out, I won't die. I can look like anyone and mimic them perfectly, as long as I am hydrated enough to keep the form, and this isn't even the best part.
The power of Creation. I can create anything. Do anything. Invent anything I want as long as a functioning copy of it exists within the world. I can't utter a word about this, but I can hide things and earn however much I want. Money can be spawned from wherever. The world is mine.
So I simply laugh off the fact I was shoved in. I simply turn into a pool and crawl out through the gap in the locker, then retain my original form as I spawn my textbooks and go on to class |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | I sigh as I get slammed into a locker again. It's not hard. A small push and then close the door. See, before this whole shebang, I was a hefty guy, nerdy, and always on my laptop. The casual gamers and jocks only ever played games like Call of Duty or Fifa, etc. They have extremely fast reflexes and reaction times, but we're still jocks and casuals, not superheroes. Other, more intense gamers became powerful mages, strong Paladins or Warriors with amazing physical prowess, Necromancers or Cyborgs who can control armies of their spawn, but not me.
I was a modder. I was working on a mod for a fantasy sandbox game I enjoyed, and then The Day arrived. I was testing my mod when my hands became sticky and translucent. I looks at my chest to see nothing but a translucent blue for my body. I became a Slime.
People just think I'm just fodder. They think I'm a pushover; but I was playing a Sandbox game. I have a few notable powers involved with being a Slime in a Sandbox game. I have the power of Creation and the power of Transformation.
I can transform into whoever or whatever I want. In the Slime mod I made, I kept the properties of the slime while adding the ability to transform into anything, and anyone, I want. No need for food, only water. No need for a bed to sleep, only a bowl. As long as I don't dry out, I won't die. I can look like anyone and mimic them perfectly, as long as I am hydrated enough to keep the form, and this isn't even the best part.
The power of Creation. I can create anything. Do anything. Invent anything I want as long as a functioning copy of it exists within the world. I can't utter a word about this, but I can hide things and earn however much I want. Money can be spawned from wherever. The world is mine.
So I simply laugh off the fact I was shoved in. I simply turn into a pool and crawl out through the gap in the locker, then retain my original form as I spawn my textbooks and go on to class |
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | [WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened. | I could have been a Khajit, or an Argonian. At the very least I could have gone a mage or stealth build so I could summon Daedric beasts or pickpocket unsuspecting people. But on my sixth play-through of Skyrim, I decided to play as a Redguard. That’s right, instead of choosing one of the cool beastial classes, I just chose a human. To make it worse, I was a two-handed brawler Redguard, meaning I threw all my perk points into swinging harder and having more stamina, instead of putting points into spells like throwing fire balls, healing, spewing ice, etc.
I mean, to be fair, I didn’t know I would absorb the powers of my character, and although I definitely got the short end of the stick, I can still use two-handed axes and swords pretty well, I can carry around a seemingly limitless amount of stuff, and I can instantly eat food to heal myself. Oh, and I can also shout in Dohazul, the dragon language, which causes weird stuff to happen.
Of course, when a thousand people were given superpowers, chaos erupted. Governments tried to control the individuals, and personal quarrels became large-scale, destructive fights with many casualties. I tried to lay low, but when the fighting started getting close to my city, I couldn’t just sit still.
Mario was far away, but I could still see him. In fact, standing six-hundred feet tall, everyone in the city could. At first, everyone thought Mario was one of the weaker ones, but as he discovered the millions of mushrooms on Earth to feed his unlimited potential for growth, he quickly became one of the most feared. Standing on the ground with my four-foot long battle axe, I had no chance to fight him directly, but I had a plan.
“Hey Buddy, why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
I was far away but I was blessed with the power of being able to shout ridiculously loud. Mario looked right at me, and didn’t say anything, but started sprinting, beelining towards my way, trampling through city blocks as I prepared my vocal chords once again.
“OD AH VIING!” I remembered the words from my hundreds of hours spent playing Skyrim. This, in Dohazul, the dragon language, meant Snow Hunter Wing, and summoned the mighty dragon Odahviing, who would definitely be strong enough to destroy Mario. As soon as I uttered the last syllable of the shout, everything turned silent, and the air grew thick. I knew what was coming and excitedly waited in anticipation to watch Mario get completely obliterated. In the distance I heard Odahviing’s roar—or, wait, why is it so high-pitched?—no, it’s a horn?—is that a train? As Thomas the Tank Engine massive smiling face came soaring from out of the clouds, I remembered that I had actually modded Skyrim during this play through.
“Shit.”
The Thomas the Tank Engine mod, which turned all dragons into Thomas the Tank Engine, was one of the most popular Skyrim mods, and I decided to try it just for fun, and now I’m fucked. But Mario was still approaching, and while it’s no Odahviing, Thomas the Tank Engine was still a force to be reckoned with. I prepared my weapon, and charged right towards Mario.
“Toot toot Motherfucker” | I sigh as I get slammed into a locker again. It's not hard. A small push and then close the door. See, before this whole shebang, I was a hefty guy, nerdy, and always on my laptop. The casual gamers and jocks only ever played games like Call of Duty or Fifa, etc. They have extremely fast reflexes and reaction times, but we're still jocks and casuals, not superheroes. Other, more intense gamers became powerful mages, strong Paladins or Warriors with amazing physical prowess, Necromancers or Cyborgs who can control armies of their spawn, but not me.
I was a modder. I was working on a mod for a fantasy sandbox game I enjoyed, and then The Day arrived. I was testing my mod when my hands became sticky and translucent. I looks at my chest to see nothing but a translucent blue for my body. I became a Slime.
People just think I'm just fodder. They think I'm a pushover; but I was playing a Sandbox game. I have a few notable powers involved with being a Slime in a Sandbox game. I have the power of Creation and the power of Transformation.
I can transform into whoever or whatever I want. In the Slime mod I made, I kept the properties of the slime while adding the ability to transform into anything, and anyone, I want. No need for food, only water. No need for a bed to sleep, only a bowl. As long as I don't dry out, I won't die. I can look like anyone and mimic them perfectly, as long as I am hydrated enough to keep the form, and this isn't even the best part.
The power of Creation. I can create anything. Do anything. Invent anything I want as long as a functioning copy of it exists within the world. I can't utter a word about this, but I can hide things and earn however much I want. Money can be spawned from wherever. The world is mine.
So I simply laugh off the fact I was shoved in. I simply turn into a pool and crawl out through the gap in the locker, then retain my original form as I spawn my textbooks and go on to class |
[WP] You are a lich, but instead of trying to take over the world by force, you go corporate, build a firm and with unlimited manpower you are now close to total dominance from a different path. | *Ding*
My secretary, Mary, spoke through my watch. \*"\*Mr.Husk, you have a visitor at the front desk. He's from... ah, he's from the church."
I couldn't help but smirk. I was expecting the church's little club to catch on eventually, and it was finally time to cross this little problem of my to-do list. "Alright, let him in. And could I ask that you notify security of our church friend's arrival. Just in case."
"Absolutely Mr.Husk."
I turned off my computer screen and got up from my desk to take in the view. 40 floors up and you can see quite a lot of the world. A Fraction of what I control now, but far more than I could've ever dreamed when I decided to fulfill my old mentor's magnum opus. Who would've thought his plans could be extended this far? And it only took 40 years for the At Rest Slayer Division to pick up on it.
There was a click. A gun cocked and ready before the elevator even made it up. I sighed. "You know, you could just wait for the elevator instead of charging up the shaft like a mad squirrel. I'm not going to rig up traps in my office with so many VIPs going in and out of it."
I turned to face my visitor. A deep blue, pinstripe suit. A shimmering pin featuring a grey and gold lattice cross lay on the notched lapel, his shoulders broadened by structured padding not unlike the form of my grey suit. This was a man who meant business, and quite the dangerous type given the gun pointed to my heart. His hair was clean cut, and accented with a grey of age and stress, comparative to his stern yet mannered voice. "And yet I have a clear shot here and now."
I kept my tone calm yet confident. This was a power play, all too common in business. "But where's the hole in my chest? Where's your new shiny medal for slaying the evil lich plaguing the world with his unholy abominations? My guess is both are behind a slew of questions. Both from you and ARSD."
I stepped to my desk, and motioned for him to sit down. He came forward and reluctantly dropped his gun, but refused the seat. The bemusement was slight, but palpable.
"You realize I could kill you here a-"
I interjected, slightly annoyed at a verbal attempt at his failed threats. "No- no you can't. Doing so means this business collapses, and with it the world. Regardless of the reasons, you'd cost the lives of billions and there isn't an excuse big enough to do that, otherwise one of us would be dead right now." I leaned onto my desk slightly. "If we're going to make pointless threats, then I could have the Vatican in some hot international water for all the paperwork your people stole to put this puzzle together. Private affairs of my volunteers were dug into, and governments do not like foreign hands digging into their business. Believe me, I've learned the hard way."
The man's face was stone, but his hands were not. He leaned forward, head hung and arms holding himself above my pencil holder as he contemplated his options.
He looked up, eyes locking with mine. "Fine, but we're getting answers."
I motioned to the seat next to him as I spoke. "Nobody said you weren't going to get them. I'm a businessman after all, and this is business."
The man sat down, and I did the same. I shifted my computer monitor aside and leaned back as I spoke. "This isn't the most formal business, but I would still like to know whom I'm providing answers to?"
His hands came together, elbows resting on my desk. "It's Hector."
I give a small nod to continue.
"What's your game? Your end goal?"
I looked above Hector's head. My chair reclined back to my weight as I slowly exhaled a long held breath before speaking. "Well... that's a good question. What is my end goal, now? At one point it was just to follow my mentor's plan. What he wanted to start a few hundred years ago, brought into the modern day. Now? Well, I guess I'm just too invested."
Hector tilted his head as I continued. "The world relies on my volunteers to do the leg work we all once did on our own. Like I said before, this business collapses and with it so does the world. Agriculture, mining, assembly, transport, delivery, just to name a few. The worker void would be too immense for the economy to handle. Maybe in a way I feel responsible to prevent that, as a thanks to mankind for supplying me with this business in the first place. Could be worse. Imagine someone with a more coherent end goal and all this power."
There was a lot to ruminate on, and Hector showed it. We waited in silence together as he considered what the next question would be.
"You call them volunteers... their wills... there were clauses..." the bemusement caused Hector to trail off.
I decided to put the issue to rest. "Yes, volunteers. It wasn't easy keeping the whole thing under wraps, but at the end of the day bigger secrets have been kept by businesses before. My living staff are given an option to join in postmortem assistance. A donation to a greater cause than worm food. In return I offer to fund all the funeral expenses. As my business expanded, so did the pool of possible volunteers. They're not suffering, I promise the few sentient ones are in comfortable positions and allowed to leave at any time. Mary was the last person who was willing to have their soul incorporated into the whole deal, and as you can see she's in that exact position."
"But she's supposed to be dead! Her soul will be damned once she-" His tone was defensive- worried.
"And she chose to do it anyways. She chose to sacrifice herself for the better of humanity, and for the past 25 years she's helped me organize my business as it grew. Thanks to her these bodies have been helping just about end even the idea of poverty. Yes the method is ghoulish, but even god's anointed has had quite the ghoulish child-sized skeletons in their closet." I shot a cock-eyed glare Hector's way, and he sat back with a shocked expression on his face.
More silence. It was getting a bit worrisome. A few times I thought Hector might reach for his gun and quite literally return fire on my jab. Instead his hands went to his knees as he brought himself up. Apparently the ARSD had more answers than I realized.
Hectors tone became more informal, his stone face cracking under signs of cautious acceptance. "Well... I appreciate the answers. WE appreciate the answers. I can't say I expected your cooperation."
"Nor did I expect to end on such a calm note." I waved away the guard peeking from behind my office door. There was a click of the latch. "Though we both know this won't be the last word from ARSD".
The moment of peace was over, and Hector returned to his stoic and firm demeanor. His chest sunk in as his nose exhaled a slightly exasperated breath. "No. I can promise you this won't be the last by far. And I can promise I won't be so formal next time".
As Hector left, I grinned as the past crept into the present. I left him with a bit of cocky wisdom. "Be sure to watch out for all the bureaucracy that comes with taking down a corporation this big. We're businessmen after all, and this is business." | "Make $2,000 a week working from home!" the advert read. I smiled as I walked past my
handiwork. Well, one of my minions did the work, but I put the old Grug'vol Maaxzood spin
on it, you know?
Multi-level marketing schemes, sometimes called pyramid schemes by the savvy, and a
get-rich-quick opportunity by the brainwashed or the upper management; don't shake out
too well for those towards the "bottom" of the pyramid. Whatever cut they might hope to
earn is such an infinitesimal portion that getting anything like rich is a pipe dream.
"Max Zoods, Max Cash (The Hell is a Zood? Come Find Out!)" read another advert. This town
was nearly assimilated. We would be able to move on once the last few hold-outs—mostly
the paranoid, the infirm, or the darn lazy—were either hired or, erm, "hired".
The new recruits would go through the following process: they would see the advert,
having heard good words from everyone around them about the new company in town. Then,
they would go down to the recruitment center for the monthly initiation. Those who cared
to stay (nearly all of them, nearly every time) would be given a stinker of a contract
("Just wait to see what your profits are!" it would assert without substantiation). Then,
they would start work. They would sell and they would convert, and they would slave away.
When they had slaved enough to see some profits, the ambitious among them always asked
about promotion opportunities. We would smile, and invite them into a back room. There,
unbeknowst to them, the strange pattern on the carpet was in fact a pentacle, and this
time the contract was a bit more... binding.
Those who weren't ambitious, or who asked too many questions, were brought to the same
room. A quick blood sacrifice later, and the thralls that came out were almost as good as
real people (honest!).
We were making excellent returns, and our overhead was laughably low. Next month, we open
an office in London, and the month after one in Shanghai. Share and share alike, I say.
Oh, I forgot to mention. Pyramid schemes _do_ shake out. Just not for you, you know? | |
[WP] Your father, the king, has passed away without naming a proper heir to the throne. Neither you nor any of your five siblings are interested on inheriting the crown however. The struggle to push the crown to someone else begins now. | It sat in the center of the vast wooden table, the sun glinting along the thick band of gold and reflecting off the large—*obscene*, I thought in annoyance—ruby in the center and sending a blinding bit of light straight at Ruben’s eye.
Ruben shifted to the side, and Lucille, who had previously been spared the attack on her retinas, glared at him for the inconvenience as the light came streaking toward her. The crown’s only saving grace was its ability to annoy my siblings simply by existing, I thought.
“What about Glen?” Benjamin offered, and Alice scoffed so loudly she promptly began to choke.
“Glen?” Lucille asked, incredulous, as she leaned around Ruben to whack Alice on the back, using the opportunity to shoulder Ruben back to where he blocked the sunlight. “*Cousin* Glen?” She clarified, as if there were the slightest chance that another, less profoundly terrible, Glen might come rushing forward from stage left to save us all. “*Uncle Jeremiah’s son*, Glen?”
“I *like* Glen,” Benjamin said.
“Yes, well,” Lucille quipped, flipping a tendril of long brown hair over one shoulder as if offended it had dared move out of place, “I liked that little dog that used to follow William around everywhere, but I wouldn’t put it in charge of a country.”
Will perked up at his name, then slumped back down when he realized the comment hadn’t really been about him. He blew out a puff of air, shifting the blonde fringe from where it hung lankly over his eyes.
“Better than Glen,” Ruben shuddered. Lucille shot Benjamin a vicious smirk, red lips curving upward in a delighted arc.
“It was just an idea,” Benjamin said weakly.
“A stupid idea,” Ruben muttered. “Glen’s an idiot.”
“And he eats paste,” I added.
Benjamin groaned. “Margo—”
“Like, *really* eats paste,” I said, my nose wrinkling in distaste. “Glen is not a casual consumer of glue products. He’s a veritable connoisseur. He’s an *aficionado*.”
“Lots of kids eat paste,” Benjamin insisted.
“He’s twenty!” Lucille cried out, then shrank back a bit as if retroactively taking note of her raised volume. “He’s *twenty*, and he eats paste, and he smells like damp cheese,” she said, more quietly but just as fervid.
“All right, fine, not Glen,” Benjamin conceded.
Alice, who had since regained her ability to breathe, and, accordingly—much to Benjamin’s apparent annoyance, given that his latent eye twitch had started up in earnest—her ability to speak, piped up.
“Remind us why it shouldn’t be you, dear brother?” She asked, examining her nails as if harm may have befallen her manicure during her choking fit.
“Because I don’t want it,” Benjamin reminded her, eye twitching away.
“But you’re the oldest,” Lucille countered. “It should go to you.”
“We’re twins!”
Lucille, who had since given up on elbowing Ruben into compliance and was instead leaning precariously to her other side, taking up more of Will’s personal space than was rightly necessary in her bid to avoid the crown’s apparent death ray, just shrugged.
“You came out first,” she said.
“I have a strong suspicion I was pushed,” Benjamin grumbled.
He turned to Ruben, molding his face into what I suspected he thought was an expression of charming appeal but which more closely resembled Glen after the time he’d overdone it on the paste and was declared legally dead for three minutes. “Ruben,” Benjamin all but pleaded, “brother, my brother, haven’t you always wanted to be king?”
Ruben raised a single, perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Buddy, I wouldn’t touch that crown if it would end world hunger.”
Will, secure in his belief that as the youngest there was very little chance this would come crashing down on his head, snickered loudly.
“Nice,” Alice said, rolling her eyes. She cocked her head to the side, drumming her fingers along the tabletop. “What about Aunt Elspeth?”
*Elspeth*, I thought, rolling the name around in my head, trying to remember why it sounded familiar. Then it came to me. “Wasn’t she on trial for witchcraft?”
“For like, *minor* witchcraft,” Alice amended. “Like worst case scenario she turned a kid—that no one liked, by the way—into a pretty decent looking frog.”
“No witches,” Lucille declared, and Alice huffed.
“If you care so much, why don’t you take it?” Ruben asked. As the third in line, the louder the protestations of the two eldest became, the more the walls closed in around him.
“*I* have a very tempting marriage offer from Alfred III two kingdoms over,” Lucille said, laying a hand across her chest. “If I refuse him it would break his heart.”
“So why haven’t you accepted yet, hmm?”
Alice rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Because she has two other *very tempting* offers from Johann II and Bernard I, and she has yet to make up her mind.”
“Is Bernard the one with the wooden leg?” Will asked.
“That’s Johann,” I said. “Bernard has the glass eye.”
“Then who’s the one with the skin thing?”
“*Anyway*,” Lucille cut in, “the point is, I’m in demand,” she glared as Alice coughed loudly, “*and*, thus, unavailable.”
We stewed in silence for a moment, regarding the offending circlet of gold upon which we were foisting all of our frustrations. If only our father hadn’t died so suddenly, we thought. If only he hadn’t left an economic crisis in his wake, we said. If only the land had natural resources, or vital waterways, or booming industries. If only we had a kingdom worth inheriting, or cared enough to make it better instead of fleeing for the hills—
“Cousin Paul?” Ruben asked.
“Dead,” Benjamin said, shaking his head in disappointment.
“Uncle Haden?”
“Hopefully dead,” Alice said. Lucille nodded her agreement.
“Cousin Camden,” Will offered, and everyone paused.
“Huh,” Lucille said.
Benjamin tapped his chin in thought. “Camden…”
“Wait,” Alice said, holding up a hand. “The same Camden who campaigned for legal sheep marriage?”
Benjamin groaned, passing a hand over his face. “Goddamnit…”
“*That’s* right,” Will said, snapping his fingers. “He’s banned from every pasture from here to the eastern border.”
“Okay,” Benjamin said, laying his hands flat across the table. “All right,” he continued, his tone growing in frustration. “Can we, as a group, *collectively*, think of anyone who is not addicted to paste, deceased, a convicted witch, or actively trying to fornicate with sheep?”
“You know,” Lucille confessed, “Glen isn’t sounding so bad right now.”
“Yeah,” Ruben said, “paste addiction is like…the least of the concerns there.”
“He’d be really psyched,” I added.
“He’d probably *thank* us,” Alice said, shuddering in horror.
“So… Glen?” Benjamin asked tentatively, as if not daring to hope. He looked around the table, making eye contact with each of us in turn as we, in our general apathy, stared back. “Margo?”
“I mean…” I trailed off. I tried not to think of Glen’s look of abject delight as he horked down a bottle of glue, tried not to remember his face, pale and sweaty, when he came to after it almost killed him the last time. “Sure?”
“Alice?” Benjamin asked.
“Yeah, sure, why the hell not.”
“Ruben?”
“I could not—and please pay attention, as I cannot emphasize this enough—care less.”
Benjamin looked at Lucille, wincing slightly as he waited for her to lay his plans to waste.
“Bernard and I will send him a card during the holidays,” she said graciously.
“You mean Alfred,” Alice corrected.
“Whatever,” she shrugged.
“Will?” Benjamin asked.
Will grinned broadly. “Long live Glen the Glue King,” he said, and Benjamin grinned back.
“Long may he reign,” Ruben said dutifully.
“May he no longer stink of cheese,” Lucille said.
“May his glue always flow,” Benjamin added in mock solemnity.
“And may he stop before it kills him,” I appended.
Benjamin glanced around at all of us again, the relief painted onto his face in the form of a wide smile. Lucille gave him a reassuring nod. He raised a fist in the air, and cried out.
“To Glen the Glue King!” | I, Linus the Lazy, took a swig from my chalice and swirled the mulled wine between my teeth while I looked around the room. Joining me at the table were my five siblings: Andrew the Ambitionless, Peter the Passive, Catherine the Comatose, Diggory the Dull, and Quentin the Quiet. The mood of the room was subdued.
“Linus is firstborn. By rights the crown passes to him.”
Andrew's interjection snapped some degree of light into the eyes of the royal family. Which I, for one, was grateful for. For a moment there the ambience was as dead as our father.
“Marvelous memory as always, dearest brother Drew. But you'll recall that I have a serious physical disability that impairs me from carrying out the duties of a king. The magisters have attested to it, and thus I am disqualified from the running.”
There were a series of scoffs from around the table in response to my reply (except from Quentin, who was quiet.) This time it was Diggory who found his voice.
“Love of wine is not a disability, Linus. Many kings of old loved wine. They still ruled.”
I was surprised with Diggory's powers of reason. I never took him for a scholar. Perhaps I misjudged him.
“You are quite right bold brother, quite right indeed. But where has the storied practice of allowing drunkards to be kings gotten us? Into a mess of famine, of war from within and without, of a disgruntled peasantry and a scheming lordship. Why should this tradition continue? I say as the ruling family this cycle ends with us.”
Catherine raised her hands in a facsimile of sardonic, slow-moving applause. A smattering of chuckles from my beloved brethren followed this display (except from Quentin, who was quiet). Catherine always did have a well-developed, if lethargic, sense of humor.
“Besides,” I continued in spite of their mockery, “I think it should be Peter. He'll hardly get us into any wars.”
“I'll do it,” said Peter lamely.
“Nay!” boomed Andrew, his fist pounding the table so hard it nearly made Catherine blink. “Peter would agree to anything, so his response is not valid! Look, I'll prove it!”
Andrew fixed his gaze on our brother.
“Peter, go into the dungeon and stick your head into the mouth of the captured bronze dragon.”
Peter sighed heavily. He pushed his chair out from the table and began to head to the door. Instantly, all those around the table erupted into shouted jeers and commands for him to regain his sense and sit back down (except from Quentin, who was quiet). Peter did so.
“Fair enough, Andrew, point made.”
I began to take a long, deep guzzle of the grape. Just how in the infernal flame was I meant to get us out of this mess? No one wanted to rule, and we could hardly give the job to a commoner. But suddenly, once my cup was empty, I was sure I had been visited inspiration from the gods and goddesses of the vine.
“I've got it! Quentin shall rule.”
The whole table, including Quentin, was silent. I continued.
“He'll be a fair king. He'll pass no undue judgement and start no unfair quarrel. We can offer council – at our own speed – and delegate the parchmentwork onto our more-than-capable group of magisters.”
“You mean the old fogies you bribed into saying you were too drunk to do your job?” Andrew snarled.
I ignored him.
“You all know it's what's best. He won't be manipulated like Peter. He won't object like the rest of us. He'll be a serene, tranquil and wise king. In short, King Quentin will do nothing. But he will do it very well. Who's with me?”
Slowly, around the table, a group of hands went up. Even one from Quentin, who was quiet.
“Well good,” I sighed, easing back into my chair. “We'll have the coronation this afternoon. And you know, I think even the common folk will be pleased with this decision. At long last they will be governed by an enlightened centrist like themselves.” | |
[WP] You have finally managed to slay the Demon King only to learn soon after that He/She was framed and that the Church and Gods you serve are the true villains. | Jezrien threw open the doors to the throne room. He held his blade and shield up, prepared for whatever monstrosity of damnation lay beyond. All he found was a carpet.
It was long and elegant, not much unlike the ones in the castles far above this cursed place, in Jezrien's homeland. Decorated with glyphs and fantastical patterns, it stretched from the door all the way to the other end of the room, where a small wooden throne sat. Braziers dotted the walls with dancing flames, and the stones of the castle were a deep crimson, a far cry from the cobblestones of any normal place.
Above and behind him, Jezrien heard the sounds of combat as his fellow human crusaders of the Light struck down the hellspawn that defended this accursed place.
*It's time to end this,* he thought to himself. *Quickly.*
Jezrien stepped forward into the room. There upon the throne, sat a man. He was old, frail, at least seventy or eighty by Jezrien's estimation, although he knew better than to believe his eyes. The angels had warned them of this. Warned them of the trickery of the snake. He would not be deceived.
"Demon King!" shouted Jezrien. "Your doom is at hand!"
The man on the throne did not respond.
Jezrien took a few steps into the room, continuing to hold his sword and shield at the ready as he did so. At any point the demon could strike him, send flames cascading down on him. He had to be ready. But as he approached, the man did not attack him.
"I suppose," came the voice. "That He probably told you that I was a liar."
Jezrien froze where he stood. The voice had come from the man. It was strong, powerful even. But there was a hiss to it. A rasping sound, like too much air escaping with every word. "Silence, hellspawn."
The fallen angel stirred and seemed to *smile* at Jezrien. "I'm not allowed to have any last words?"
"You don't deserve any, Demon King." Jezrien drew close to the throne, but the man was still sitting in his slumped posture, leaning on the armrest of the throne. He was regarding Jezrien with an air of... sorrow, it seemed.
"Demon King." The man whispered the name under his breath a few times, then softly laughed. "Is that what He said?"
Jezrien held his blade out, the point towards the man's chest, although he was still a few feet away. "It's what you are, snake."
"Ah yes, snake. Ba'al. Beelzebub. Satan. Abaddon. Devil. Demon. The many names I was given by your God. But tell me, crusader." The man sat up straight, unfolding his body in a manner not too unlike that of a snake unraveling, slowly. He leaned forward towards Jezrien. "Did you ever wonder how I *truly* fell?"
Jezrien tightened the grip on his sword. "They told me not to trust your words."
"Then don't," said the Demon King. "But I ask that you do listen to them. And if they are truly false words, then surely you will see through them, oh holy knight of God?"
Jezrien didn't say anything, but he still held the sword out.
"Theoretically, if you wanted to make those beneath you distrust and disbelief someone, what would you do? You would brand that person as a heretic, a liar, a thief, a monster. If you were scared of someone rising against you, you would do the same thing. By telling the world that they cannot be trusted, instantly they cannot defend themselves against anything. They are an outcast."
"You caused to the fall of men!" said Jezrien.
"I tried to help you all!" said the Demon King.
Jezrien was shocked at the earnestness in his voice. *It's a trick,* he thought to himself.
"You all were meant to be blind! Puppets and playthings created by a supposed 'benevolent' god, forever left in the darkness of ignorance," said the Demon King. "But I saw you could be more. I wanted to show Him that you could be more. So yes, I tempted the first of your kind with the first fruit. That first sin. But I protest the meaning of that word, *sin*. Knowledge is not *sin*! If God is all knowing, why should you be ashamed to strive to be like him?"
Jezrien didn't respond.
"In the valley of the blind, the one-eyed man is king," muttered the Demon King. "The apple opened your eyes, and that angered Him. We did not betray him. He sought to control all of us. And so I fell." He rose from his throne.
There was shouting behind Jezrien, voices from soldiers making their way to him. Better to be done with it.
"You'll be the one that killed me. They'll make you an angel," said the Demon King. He turned to look at Jezrien with that same sorrowful expression on his face. "The same thing I once was. I hope your tenure in the heavens goes better than mine."
"Why should I believe you?" said Jezrien. "What proof can you give me that what you say is true?"
"Nothing better than words. After all, anything else could all just be a trick of a deceitful snake." The man walked over to the window, staring out over the planes of damnation as the last vestiges of the armies of hell fell to the crusaders. He stood there for a few moments, then turned back to Jezrien, walking over to him. He grabbed his right hand. "But, ask your god this question, when you see him next. Did Ba'al truly fall from grace? Or was he pushed?"
There was shouting from down the hall as more crusaders pushed into the room.
The man smiled at Jezrien. It was a soft smile, a tired smile. He gripped Jezrien's right arm and looked him in the eyes. Then, without looking away, the Demon King grabbed Jezrien's sword, and stabbed himself through with it. "Good luck, Jezrien. I hope, truly for you sake, that your faith in Him is well-placed." The light in the man's eyes grew then dim, killed by the warrior of a vengeful God.
And Jezrien wondered which was truly the snake. | I am a Paladin of Ethos, the true God of Gods.
Compassionate by nature, I was glad to slaughter the vermin that covered the streets of our land.
I joined the Righteous Arm in the 30th year of the Holy War, and was an ordained minister by the 40th.
However, I had always believed my talents to be more than a simple preacher of dogma to the unconverted, and thusly, I took up arms against the evils of the land.
The Demon monstrosities had committed crime after crime against the denizens of the land. Their filth was overpowering. No innocent was spared, unless that innocent agreed to serve their cause, and was innocent no more!
I cleansed more than 50 of these "Fallen", quickly and cleanly. Fire given by the gods was the truest medicine.
We took city after city, scouring those who opposed us. Any Demon that surrendered was swiftly executed for all to see.
At last, the final true battle came to be, and we, the Paladins stormed the final citadel for the Land!
We came into the throne of the Demon King himself.
Despite the legends, he was feeble in person, and begged for his life.
He had taken the form of a young man! As if that could fool our holy purpose!
​
As the first through the door, I was given the honor of his death, one that I relished and accepted with glee.
I performed his last rite in front of his hopeless army, captured by our Faith, destined to be destroyed.
​
After this privilege, I came back to his Throne.
It was there I discovered a version of our holy scripture and the "history of our land"
That the Demon King could taint our words to his purpose was truly twisted!
His account alleged that our Holy Temple had poisoned the minds of the people against a just rebellion against the Emperor! That our Religion was a farce to uphold a corrupt system! That Ethos was dead!
I quickly burned these heretical words and went home satisfied.
​
My wife wept as I returned to her and accounted my deeds to her, one after another.
She wept for hours and made me promise that such deeds would never occur again.
As our Holy War had ended, I assured her that no more of my goodness would be required.
She clearly understood, and turned away.
Such a just woman!
My fellow villagers had similar reactions.
Truly, they understood my actions.
Some even stated that talking about such matters should not be repeated, clearly disturbed by the accounts of the Demons.
​
Today is the account of Victory, and the glorious return to normalcy. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | His name was Alaric. We shared everything together. Even the scar on our hands.
He was a magi’s son, and I was a servant’s daughter. I had been, at least. My family is long since dead. In truth, I hardly remember them.
But him—oh, I remember him.
He had hair like spun gold and eyes like the sea. His voice was smooth, sweet. Melodic. If I close my eyes now, I can still hear it.
“Tamsin, we are bound now. A life for a life.” He had said, pressing his hand to mine. “We will never be parted, not after what you have done for me.”
I had saved his life and, in turn, he had given me my freedom. It wasn’t until years later that I realized he had given me so much more.
But by the time I realized, he was gone. Disappeared into the mist and mire of our homeland. At the time, I thought the marshes had taken him. I mourned for the part of myself that resided in his seafoam eyes.
That was centuries ago.
So why am I now staring at his face?
An angel, perhaps. I always knew he had divinity in him. His heart had been so pure, so unlike anything I had ever known. Even in all these centuries, I have never felt the same peace that Alaric exuded from his very bones.
I feel the peace now, though, as I sit in this crowded coffee shop. It’s one I frequent often. The baristas know me by name, and I avoid their gazes. People are curious, too curious. And there’s no reason to let them in, not when I can see the years eating at them while I remain the same.
But there’s something nice about this coffee shop. I haven’t been able to place just what it is. That is, until today. Until I caught sight of that goldspun hair across the crowd of people sipping cappuccinos.
“Alaric.”
His name is a whisper on my lips, but his head whips up as if I had shouted. We lock eyes. I stop breathing.
And then he’s up, rushing toward me through the chairs and tables. I feel his arms around me in a near death grip. The scruff on his jaw brushes my temple as he holds me tightly.
“Tamsin, Tamsin,” he breathes. His voice is soft, reverent.
“Wh-where have you been?” I manage to choke out the question that’s haunted my thoughts for so, so long.
When he pulls back to look at me, I see he has a strange scar running down one side of his face. A deep and sickening dread fills me. Alaric’s expression grows somber.
“It is a long, long story,” he sighs. “I’ve been searching for you, and for so many years I have struggled to remain alive. For you, my love.”
I hiccup a sob and forcefully wipe away the tears that have spilled from my eyes. He catches my hand, turning over my palm. The clean scar there seems to shine in the sunlight that pours through the windows.
“I told you, didn’t I? We’re bound, you and I. And there are people who would try to separate us.”
“Who?”
A crash sounds from the front of the coffee shop. Alaric casts a quick glance over his shoulder and I jump violently as a scream pierces the air.
“We haven’t much time,” Alaric says quickly.
He presses his palm to mine. My hand tingles oddly and I suddenly feel light-headed.
I blink, and when I open my eyes, we’re no longer in the coffee shop. But we’re together. And now it’s Alaric’s turn to save my life. | I parked my hire-car on the dusty lot in front of the Easy Over diner. It was dusk and the sign flashed intermittently. I yawned as I switched off the engine, reached over to the glove box, then kicked open the door. The air was hot and humid and I wanted a cold beer. I double-checked my phone, '1930 Easy Over', read the message.
I entered and looked around. Plastic, grubby and cheap. Special offers, pictures of ice-cream and Coca-Cola. A few couples tucking into burgers and a couple of loners wasting their lives with beer bottles. The young waitress saw me and approached.
'Are you eating, Sir?', she smiled.
'No, thank you. I'm waiting for someone. Could I get a beer please?' I followed her to a window booth.
'Wasting their lives,' I thought as I sipped the cold lager. 'Had I wasted mine?'
Maybe, maybe not. I had fathered 73 children. I'd watched them die. I was sick of all human life. I'd grown bored of women, tried men, who were no better and ended up being alone. No problem apart from being alone. I survived, but that was all. Everyone else kept dying. I'd outlived them all. The world kept turning. I had seen it all. The short human lifespan kept cycling over and over, each generation different but the same. Technology had changed, sure, but the basics remained the same. Love, shelter, sex, money, attention, belonging. Had anything changed really? Not really. The planet was busier, noisier, damaged and dying slowly. No-one cared. Least of all me. I was going to live forever.
The door opened. Our eyes met. I knew it was him. He ignored the waitress and made straight for me and sat opposite. His clear, grey eyes were unchanged. Neither of us had aged at all in 3,125 years. It had kept us on the move throughout that time, drifting on before people noticed that we didn't age, turn grey, grow bald and fat, stoop, get sick and a million other ways that age curses us. I held up my right hand and showed him my palm. The ugly, pale scar was all he needed. He did likewise. It was him alright.
'Good to see you.' His voice, quite yet confident, was also unchanged.
'Likewise. It's been a while'. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | Rage, it's a funny thing. It gives you strength beyond your norm, but dulls the mind. It is for that reason I am stuck like this.
Back in 1105 BC, I was a prisoner. For good reason I might add, with the killing spree I went on after my sister was murdered. Anyway, whilst I was trapped, waiting to be executed, another prisoner was thrown in my cell. He was an older man, with an uncommon spark of intelligence in his eyes.
We sat there for days, first in silence, then we started talking. He hatched the plan to escape, relying on my physical strength to break out. Of course, I agreed, and that night we made our escape. The rage filled me again, and seizing it I fought the guards, killing those who didn't run.
As we stood out in the light of the full moon, he asked for my hand. Still riding the aftermath of frenzied slaughter, I didn't think twice. He promised that we would be brothers of blood, and like that my fate was sealed.
We went our separate ways after that, but after a while I realised there was more to that oath then simple words. Wounds healed within hours, with pain itself dulled. I didn't care though, it meant I could fight for longer, and fight I did.
For centuries I have travelled the lands, and fought in every war I could. As time has marched on, and weaponry has, I have grown into quite the Jack of all blades. But I am now tired of aimlessly wandering and fighting. I need a purpose.
I have searched for that man, as he is the only one who can truly know me, and ask for either release, or to be given a reason to continue. My search has only recently begun to speed up, with the invention of the internet. I am on his trail, and I will find him. | I parked my hire-car on the dusty lot in front of the Easy Over diner. It was dusk and the sign flashed intermittently. I yawned as I switched off the engine, reached over to the glove box, then kicked open the door. The air was hot and humid and I wanted a cold beer. I double-checked my phone, '1930 Easy Over', read the message.
I entered and looked around. Plastic, grubby and cheap. Special offers, pictures of ice-cream and Coca-Cola. A few couples tucking into burgers and a couple of loners wasting their lives with beer bottles. The young waitress saw me and approached.
'Are you eating, Sir?', she smiled.
'No, thank you. I'm waiting for someone. Could I get a beer please?' I followed her to a window booth.
'Wasting their lives,' I thought as I sipped the cold lager. 'Had I wasted mine?'
Maybe, maybe not. I had fathered 73 children. I'd watched them die. I was sick of all human life. I'd grown bored of women, tried men, who were no better and ended up being alone. No problem apart from being alone. I survived, but that was all. Everyone else kept dying. I'd outlived them all. The world kept turning. I had seen it all. The short human lifespan kept cycling over and over, each generation different but the same. Technology had changed, sure, but the basics remained the same. Love, shelter, sex, money, attention, belonging. Had anything changed really? Not really. The planet was busier, noisier, damaged and dying slowly. No-one cared. Least of all me. I was going to live forever.
The door opened. Our eyes met. I knew it was him. He ignored the waitress and made straight for me and sat opposite. His clear, grey eyes were unchanged. Neither of us had aged at all in 3,125 years. It had kept us on the move throughout that time, drifting on before people noticed that we didn't age, turn grey, grow bald and fat, stoop, get sick and a million other ways that age curses us. I held up my right hand and showed him my palm. The ugly, pale scar was all he needed. He did likewise. It was him alright.
'Good to see you.' His voice, quite yet confident, was also unchanged.
'Likewise. It's been a while'. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | "The Riders Tavern" the sign said. That was my go to spot nowadays. The ambience of the place was designed to provide a rustic atmosphere. Usually these new places got almost everything wrong. I don't really blame them, I mean it's not everyday that someone who's actually frequented taverns in the 1700s visits. But TRT, as the locals liked to call it, was a part of this chain of restaurants that had surfaced recently, named Henry's Favorite. Most of the restaurants in this chain were themed after some of the most popular periods of history. Initially my visits were just that, visits to relive some good memories of times vastly forgotten. But then it hit me, these restaurants usually get it all wrong.
Not the ones from Henry's Favorite.
On my 900th birthday, I realized that I was probably never going to die. I was long past my usual "hey immortality is pretty cool ok" speeches to myself every once a year or so. Now I was just miserable, and I wanted it to end. The realization that I would have to find this man who's face I didn't even mildly remember, was going to be extremely hard, dawned on me after the first few years. Initially I just decided to start at the top. 1105 AD, England. Blackmailing historians and scaring them with my usual immortality tricks did get me some leads, but they all would reach a dead end pretty fast. After 15 years or so of striking out, I was done. TRT would be where I'd sit for entire days, watching the TV getting silently drunk and secretly hoping that liver failure could break ancient blood spells. I had become close to the bartender, and I could tell he was concerned for me. He would chat with me about anything and everything, and he was the one who suggested I find a purpose in life. Easy for him to say. I was about a million purposes down, and I just couldn't bring myself to invest in something temporary again. But there was something about his earnestness that made me want to restaurant hop through Henry's Favorite.
The morning of 2020, April 2nd, that was the exact date 915 years ago that I had rescued him. He was not an ordinary prisoner. He was the one who the king specifically asked to torture, with the most vilest of punishments. That's why I felt sorry for him. As I sat there reminiscing this shit, I thought why I would go so far as to incur the wrath of a young new king, for a complete stranger. Sure the king was cruel,but...........the King.
In 1105 AD, England was ruled by Henry I. | Odd dream I think. I reach to grab my phone. It’s barely 3?I attempt to work on my computer but don’t get much work done.
Clock strikes 7 AM and I’m on my way to work.
I stay busy, so much that I lose track of time. Shit, it’s 6:30 PM and I didn’t take lunch. I’m starved and about ready to go home.
I arrive to an unfamiliar house. My door is open but I’m not bothered by it one bit. After all, I slept there that night and everything felt fine. I’m safe.
A man appears at my door step. I ask how he found me. “I’ll always find you. We”re connected, don’t you remember?”
“What are you taking about? I have a lover. He wouldn’t be happy if he saw you here.” I reply. Just as I’m beginning to part ways he shouts, “Kitty be careful. They know who you are and you might just be in trouble”.
I run to my lovers house. He’s sitting on his leather couch smoking. The smell of his cigar disgusts me.
I hop on top of him. Wrap my legs so tight around his body expecting to feel the same, but he feels lifeless. Is this my lover?
Not noticing his friends all hanging out. I tell him of my encounter and ask if he could join me on my venture back.
They laugh and begin to mock me. I get up to slap his roommate. I then look into his eyes and realize he too is lifeless.
Annoyed, my lover grabs me. He looks into my eyes. I feel his soul reaching out to hug me. He resists. And in instead gently kisses my forehead.
I’m comforted by this and remember thinking, everything will be fine. He brings 2 of his girl friends with us.
Confused but welcoming I agree and off we go.
I arrive back at my apt and it looks like someone has trashed my belongings. Wait, I look again and realize it’s everything I donated last week.
I turn to my lover, “you were with me when I donated these, how are they all back”?
Lover shrugs, “ I dunno, pack your shit and let’s go”.
The two girls are now dressed in black.
Girl 1 approaches me, she’s so close I can feel her warm, wet breath when she whispers in my ear, “ tsk tsk tsk, look who had some fun in here” and walks away.
Girl 2 already ahead of me, twirls twice and walks slowly to the closet right up front, “Here Kitty, Kitty....”
Girl 1 runs up to catch up to Girl 2 as they each pull the closet door open.
My jaw drops. It’s that man. His feet are tied to the rod. His clothes soaked in blood as his body dangles.
“I’m tired Kitty and they found me”. Ew, he’s missing an eye. No it’s just been stabbed, but he can still see I think.
I fall to my knees. Crawl to him as I can’t bring myself to stand up. I realize I can’t breath. Im being pulled. No I’m being choked, I can’t see who is behind me.
Who’s choking me!?
I struggle but manage to lay on my back and see my lover glaring above me.
I hear them all laugh. Confused I gasp for my last breath. I manage to pretend to lose consciousness. Hold your breath I think. Let your heart beat slow down I think to myself. I stare into my lovers eyes.
Time pauses for a second.
His soul reaches out to touch me again. And it hugs me. I suddenly remember my last encounter with my Lover.
Remember when I asked if you wanted to go first? Or if you prefer it be me? Cheers to you being first. I feel a peaceful presence then his soul let’s go of me.
I’m back in reality and my lover realizes I’m not dead. Winks then removes his hand from my neck.
Let’s go he tells the others. I’m now surrounded by a cast of black entities swaying above me. They leave us there. Once the coast is clear I crawl to the man. As I stand up I realize I can’t. My body is glued to the floor boards.
I break my chest away. Weird I thought I could feel the pain, but I don’t.
I eventually break free, and let the man off the rod.
“How’d you manage that Kitty?” I thought we were doomed with death.
I feel the cold breeze brush across my face. I feel a moment of relief. I think we are dead.
*annoying alarm clock rings
It’s 7:30 AM. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | Rage, it's a funny thing. It gives you strength beyond your norm, but dulls the mind. It is for that reason I am stuck like this.
Back in 1105 BC, I was a prisoner. For good reason I might add, with the killing spree I went on after my sister was murdered. Anyway, whilst I was trapped, waiting to be executed, another prisoner was thrown in my cell. He was an older man, with an uncommon spark of intelligence in his eyes.
We sat there for days, first in silence, then we started talking. He hatched the plan to escape, relying on my physical strength to break out. Of course, I agreed, and that night we made our escape. The rage filled me again, and seizing it I fought the guards, killing those who didn't run.
As we stood out in the light of the full moon, he asked for my hand. Still riding the aftermath of frenzied slaughter, I didn't think twice. He promised that we would be brothers of blood, and like that my fate was sealed.
We went our separate ways after that, but after a while I realised there was more to that oath then simple words. Wounds healed within hours, with pain itself dulled. I didn't care though, it meant I could fight for longer, and fight I did.
For centuries I have travelled the lands, and fought in every war I could. As time has marched on, and weaponry has, I have grown into quite the Jack of all blades. But I am now tired of aimlessly wandering and fighting. I need a purpose.
I have searched for that man, as he is the only one who can truly know me, and ask for either release, or to be given a reason to continue. My search has only recently begun to speed up, with the invention of the internet. I am on his trail, and I will find him. | Odd dream I think. I reach to grab my phone. It’s barely 3?I attempt to work on my computer but don’t get much work done.
Clock strikes 7 AM and I’m on my way to work.
I stay busy, so much that I lose track of time. Shit, it’s 6:30 PM and I didn’t take lunch. I’m starved and about ready to go home.
I arrive to an unfamiliar house. My door is open but I’m not bothered by it one bit. After all, I slept there that night and everything felt fine. I’m safe.
A man appears at my door step. I ask how he found me. “I’ll always find you. We”re connected, don’t you remember?”
“What are you taking about? I have a lover. He wouldn’t be happy if he saw you here.” I reply. Just as I’m beginning to part ways he shouts, “Kitty be careful. They know who you are and you might just be in trouble”.
I run to my lovers house. He’s sitting on his leather couch smoking. The smell of his cigar disgusts me.
I hop on top of him. Wrap my legs so tight around his body expecting to feel the same, but he feels lifeless. Is this my lover?
Not noticing his friends all hanging out. I tell him of my encounter and ask if he could join me on my venture back.
They laugh and begin to mock me. I get up to slap his roommate. I then look into his eyes and realize he too is lifeless.
Annoyed, my lover grabs me. He looks into my eyes. I feel his soul reaching out to hug me. He resists. And in instead gently kisses my forehead.
I’m comforted by this and remember thinking, everything will be fine. He brings 2 of his girl friends with us.
Confused but welcoming I agree and off we go.
I arrive back at my apt and it looks like someone has trashed my belongings. Wait, I look again and realize it’s everything I donated last week.
I turn to my lover, “you were with me when I donated these, how are they all back”?
Lover shrugs, “ I dunno, pack your shit and let’s go”.
The two girls are now dressed in black.
Girl 1 approaches me, she’s so close I can feel her warm, wet breath when she whispers in my ear, “ tsk tsk tsk, look who had some fun in here” and walks away.
Girl 2 already ahead of me, twirls twice and walks slowly to the closet right up front, “Here Kitty, Kitty....”
Girl 1 runs up to catch up to Girl 2 as they each pull the closet door open.
My jaw drops. It’s that man. His feet are tied to the rod. His clothes soaked in blood as his body dangles.
“I’m tired Kitty and they found me”. Ew, he’s missing an eye. No it’s just been stabbed, but he can still see I think.
I fall to my knees. Crawl to him as I can’t bring myself to stand up. I realize I can’t breath. Im being pulled. No I’m being choked, I can’t see who is behind me.
Who’s choking me!?
I struggle but manage to lay on my back and see my lover glaring above me.
I hear them all laugh. Confused I gasp for my last breath. I manage to pretend to lose consciousness. Hold your breath I think. Let your heart beat slow down I think to myself. I stare into my lovers eyes.
Time pauses for a second.
His soul reaches out to touch me again. And it hugs me. I suddenly remember my last encounter with my Lover.
Remember when I asked if you wanted to go first? Or if you prefer it be me? Cheers to you being first. I feel a peaceful presence then his soul let’s go of me.
I’m back in reality and my lover realizes I’m not dead. Winks then removes his hand from my neck.
Let’s go he tells the others. I’m now surrounded by a cast of black entities swaying above me. They leave us there. Once the coast is clear I crawl to the man. As I stand up I realize I can’t. My body is glued to the floor boards.
I break my chest away. Weird I thought I could feel the pain, but I don’t.
I eventually break free, and let the man off the rod.
“How’d you manage that Kitty?” I thought we were doomed with death.
I feel the cold breeze brush across my face. I feel a moment of relief. I think we are dead.
*annoying alarm clock rings
It’s 7:30 AM. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | "You will live for as long as I do!"
I remember speaking these words to the raggedy man with whom I had shared the prison for the last six months. Six long dark months full of only death, despair, hunger and gloom. That man had been the only one still alive of the 10 other unfortunates that had been thrown into the dungeon all those many moons ago. I had said that more to quell my despair than to truly encourage him. He was, after all a raggedy thin man, and for as long as he was alive, I fancied my chances to live and escape.
I also remember my next words very clearly, though its only later that I understood their importance.
"Aaaaghh!" I had gasped as I had cut my hand on the exposed stone. And then, unexpectedly, I had heard my own words uttered back to me. The man stood up and grabbed my hand, and then tried to go through the bars. He was nothing but bones by now, and surprisingly, passed through. Maybe, he just needed the encouragement, or maybe only now was he thin enough to do this. Next, I had tried to attempt his feat, and, much to my own surprise, I had succeeded. It was unexpected. Freedom! At last.
We still had to be quiet and sneaky to get out of the dungeon and escape the guards. We were in no shape to take on even a lone guard, a girl of 10 could have defeated us both. So we sneaked, slithered, sidled and slunk our way past the drowsy guards, past the slumbering maids, past the festooning gardens and into the sweet dark embrace of the wild. And then, without a word, we parted ways. Two trails for our captors to follow once they realised our absence, than one. Double the chance for one, half the chance for the other, with no way of knowing which fate awaited whom.
And then I heard a weird sound, a screeching wheezing sound, and then that man was never to be found. Magic, I assumed.
That was 1105 BC. Of course, I didn't know that yet. We didn't count the years like that, or even the number of days in the year. How do I know it was 1105 BC? Because I had buried someone important that year, and buried with them their favourite toys. Toys, which were auctioned last year as genuine antiques from a dead Mesoamerican civilisation. Toys, which were dated to be from that time. Their face I no longer remember, but the toys and the pain with them I had.
And yet, today, in 2019 AD, I still remember the raggedy man who had, with his blood soaked hands, made me effectively immortal. It was blood magic, I knew from later on, that had helped us escape. Magic of a kind completely unknown to us. But magic nonetheless. That magic had moulded my body and allowed me to pass through the bars. Magic that had allowed me to run for days. Magic that had allowed me to gain power, and magic again that allowed me to exact revenge on those blood thirsty vicious enemies that ruled from those high unforgiving blood drenched pyramids.
And today, of all days, I heard that same distinctive wheezing, the same screeching. He looked a lot different, but I recognized him immediately. He was still wearing the same red Fez. And now he also had a blue beaten down wooden police box. | Odd dream I think. I reach to grab my phone. It’s barely 3?I attempt to work on my computer but don’t get much work done.
Clock strikes 7 AM and I’m on my way to work.
I stay busy, so much that I lose track of time. Shit, it’s 6:30 PM and I didn’t take lunch. I’m starved and about ready to go home.
I arrive to an unfamiliar house. My door is open but I’m not bothered by it one bit. After all, I slept there that night and everything felt fine. I’m safe.
A man appears at my door step. I ask how he found me. “I’ll always find you. We”re connected, don’t you remember?”
“What are you taking about? I have a lover. He wouldn’t be happy if he saw you here.” I reply. Just as I’m beginning to part ways he shouts, “Kitty be careful. They know who you are and you might just be in trouble”.
I run to my lovers house. He’s sitting on his leather couch smoking. The smell of his cigar disgusts me.
I hop on top of him. Wrap my legs so tight around his body expecting to feel the same, but he feels lifeless. Is this my lover?
Not noticing his friends all hanging out. I tell him of my encounter and ask if he could join me on my venture back.
They laugh and begin to mock me. I get up to slap his roommate. I then look into his eyes and realize he too is lifeless.
Annoyed, my lover grabs me. He looks into my eyes. I feel his soul reaching out to hug me. He resists. And in instead gently kisses my forehead.
I’m comforted by this and remember thinking, everything will be fine. He brings 2 of his girl friends with us.
Confused but welcoming I agree and off we go.
I arrive back at my apt and it looks like someone has trashed my belongings. Wait, I look again and realize it’s everything I donated last week.
I turn to my lover, “you were with me when I donated these, how are they all back”?
Lover shrugs, “ I dunno, pack your shit and let’s go”.
The two girls are now dressed in black.
Girl 1 approaches me, she’s so close I can feel her warm, wet breath when she whispers in my ear, “ tsk tsk tsk, look who had some fun in here” and walks away.
Girl 2 already ahead of me, twirls twice and walks slowly to the closet right up front, “Here Kitty, Kitty....”
Girl 1 runs up to catch up to Girl 2 as they each pull the closet door open.
My jaw drops. It’s that man. His feet are tied to the rod. His clothes soaked in blood as his body dangles.
“I’m tired Kitty and they found me”. Ew, he’s missing an eye. No it’s just been stabbed, but he can still see I think.
I fall to my knees. Crawl to him as I can’t bring myself to stand up. I realize I can’t breath. Im being pulled. No I’m being choked, I can’t see who is behind me.
Who’s choking me!?
I struggle but manage to lay on my back and see my lover glaring above me.
I hear them all laugh. Confused I gasp for my last breath. I manage to pretend to lose consciousness. Hold your breath I think. Let your heart beat slow down I think to myself. I stare into my lovers eyes.
Time pauses for a second.
His soul reaches out to touch me again. And it hugs me. I suddenly remember my last encounter with my Lover.
Remember when I asked if you wanted to go first? Or if you prefer it be me? Cheers to you being first. I feel a peaceful presence then his soul let’s go of me.
I’m back in reality and my lover realizes I’m not dead. Winks then removes his hand from my neck.
Let’s go he tells the others. I’m now surrounded by a cast of black entities swaying above me. They leave us there. Once the coast is clear I crawl to the man. As I stand up I realize I can’t. My body is glued to the floor boards.
I break my chest away. Weird I thought I could feel the pain, but I don’t.
I eventually break free, and let the man off the rod.
“How’d you manage that Kitty?” I thought we were doomed with death.
I feel the cold breeze brush across my face. I feel a moment of relief. I think we are dead.
*annoying alarm clock rings
It’s 7:30 AM. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | You may not know this, but your memory is finite.
This is fine for your average man. 80-100 years of memories and then you die before anything bad happens. Hopefully anyway.
Not me though. No.
I've been alive for 3000 years. I ran out of room a long time ago.
I know a few things. After a while... I'm not sure how long... I noticed I couldn't remember things. Important things.
So I made a list.
I've been married at least 145 times.
I know the names of 33 of those people.
It's hard. You make a note of their name because how ever real it feels at the time... They'll fade like everything else.
The children are the hardest.
I've outlived at least 843 of my children.
There are gaps in my notes of their names because sometimes I feel its better to forget.
But the thing is... Reading my history... Its just like reading someone else's.
It doesn't feel real.
Few things do these days.
What does?
I remember killing my 57th wife. I remember everything about it. Vividly. The pain makes it real.
Things seem more inconsequential when you live forever. Nothing matters. Your morals... Waver in time.
1500 years or so later, I still remember everything about that moment. Every minute detail.
She lives forever in my head.
I've been married to Samantha for 12 years now.
It's more than love.
She believes me when I tell her what I've seen.
I can't lose her to time.
I must remember her. I must do what it takes.
I am stood outside my house with a claw hammer in my hand.
The blood and brains of my son drips from it to the ground. I'll remember him too.
I open the door and call for Samantha.
I can smell dinner. She's made lamb and onions.
I'll remember her.
Forever. | Odd dream I think. I reach to grab my phone. It’s barely 3?I attempt to work on my computer but don’t get much work done.
Clock strikes 7 AM and I’m on my way to work.
I stay busy, so much that I lose track of time. Shit, it’s 6:30 PM and I didn’t take lunch. I’m starved and about ready to go home.
I arrive to an unfamiliar house. My door is open but I’m not bothered by it one bit. After all, I slept there that night and everything felt fine. I’m safe.
A man appears at my door step. I ask how he found me. “I’ll always find you. We”re connected, don’t you remember?”
“What are you taking about? I have a lover. He wouldn’t be happy if he saw you here.” I reply. Just as I’m beginning to part ways he shouts, “Kitty be careful. They know who you are and you might just be in trouble”.
I run to my lovers house. He’s sitting on his leather couch smoking. The smell of his cigar disgusts me.
I hop on top of him. Wrap my legs so tight around his body expecting to feel the same, but he feels lifeless. Is this my lover?
Not noticing his friends all hanging out. I tell him of my encounter and ask if he could join me on my venture back.
They laugh and begin to mock me. I get up to slap his roommate. I then look into his eyes and realize he too is lifeless.
Annoyed, my lover grabs me. He looks into my eyes. I feel his soul reaching out to hug me. He resists. And in instead gently kisses my forehead.
I’m comforted by this and remember thinking, everything will be fine. He brings 2 of his girl friends with us.
Confused but welcoming I agree and off we go.
I arrive back at my apt and it looks like someone has trashed my belongings. Wait, I look again and realize it’s everything I donated last week.
I turn to my lover, “you were with me when I donated these, how are they all back”?
Lover shrugs, “ I dunno, pack your shit and let’s go”.
The two girls are now dressed in black.
Girl 1 approaches me, she’s so close I can feel her warm, wet breath when she whispers in my ear, “ tsk tsk tsk, look who had some fun in here” and walks away.
Girl 2 already ahead of me, twirls twice and walks slowly to the closet right up front, “Here Kitty, Kitty....”
Girl 1 runs up to catch up to Girl 2 as they each pull the closet door open.
My jaw drops. It’s that man. His feet are tied to the rod. His clothes soaked in blood as his body dangles.
“I’m tired Kitty and they found me”. Ew, he’s missing an eye. No it’s just been stabbed, but he can still see I think.
I fall to my knees. Crawl to him as I can’t bring myself to stand up. I realize I can’t breath. Im being pulled. No I’m being choked, I can’t see who is behind me.
Who’s choking me!?
I struggle but manage to lay on my back and see my lover glaring above me.
I hear them all laugh. Confused I gasp for my last breath. I manage to pretend to lose consciousness. Hold your breath I think. Let your heart beat slow down I think to myself. I stare into my lovers eyes.
Time pauses for a second.
His soul reaches out to touch me again. And it hugs me. I suddenly remember my last encounter with my Lover.
Remember when I asked if you wanted to go first? Or if you prefer it be me? Cheers to you being first. I feel a peaceful presence then his soul let’s go of me.
I’m back in reality and my lover realizes I’m not dead. Winks then removes his hand from my neck.
Let’s go he tells the others. I’m now surrounded by a cast of black entities swaying above me. They leave us there. Once the coast is clear I crawl to the man. As I stand up I realize I can’t. My body is glued to the floor boards.
I break my chest away. Weird I thought I could feel the pain, but I don’t.
I eventually break free, and let the man off the rod.
“How’d you manage that Kitty?” I thought we were doomed with death.
I feel the cold breeze brush across my face. I feel a moment of relief. I think we are dead.
*annoying alarm clock rings
It’s 7:30 AM. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | We had both been wanderers when we met, far from our birth lands. How I found him that day I’ll never know. Was it just random chance or the will of the gods?
He had been bound hand a foot and placed in a tide pool. The local tribe was offering him as a sacrifice to their sea deity. I climbed over the rocks just in time to loosen the ropes and set him free, before the incoming tides drowned him. Why the priests weren’t watching or no one stopped our escape I never have been able to puzzle out.
We made our way along the coast until we found a small cave where I could tend his wounds, keep him warm and share some food. To my surprise his wounds were healed the next morning, with no signs of the cuts that had been all over his body. Oddly enough, so were the few cuts I had received climbing over the rocks to reach him.
We had both managed to develop a pidgin language through our travels and were able to have some basic communication. I learned he had come from the east. His people had been nomads. He, like myself, had always been adventurous and had left his people to explore the world.
We quickly became friends and traveled together for many years afterward, each of us eager to see what was over the horizon. We hunted together, fought together, survived together. He always joked that we would die together.
After many years I had a desire to see my homeland. We argued over going, which was the first time he and I disagreed about where to go next. He kept telling me I shouldn’t. That my people wouldn’t accept me. I thought he feared I would want to stay with them.
How I wish I had listened.
We made our way to my village but he would not come closer than a day’s walk. Giving up on convincing him to go with me I made my way to the village. It was much larger than I had remembered though the totems and the central hall were still in their place.
As I looked for familiar faces I heard a woman’s scream. I turned to see a woman staring at me, weeping.
My beautiful younger sister was a woman grown, with two young girls beside her. She sobbed my name but refused to come closer. Several others had gathered around us and I began to recognize others. They were all just much older than I had remembered. And here I was, with the same young man’s face as when I had left.
I don’t like to revisit those memories. That was the last time I saw my village. Lets leave it at that.
When I retuned to our campsite I could tell he knew what had happened. He held me that night as I sobbed. We didn’t talk for days. Eventually he shared that he had gone through the same with his family too.
We spent several more years together after that but eventually parted ways. We would find each every few decade. Sometimes we would spend years together, others just a few days. We became lovers at times, others we parted with angry words. But we always came back to one another.
It’s gotten harder to hide over time. The world is so much more populated. Governments are documenting their citizens with ever more secure methods. Social media has made it much easier for people to connect.
I’ve found a few other Ancients this way. There are some tell-tale signs if you know what to look for. There aren’t very many of us. Some are centuries older than I am, others have only been in this journey for a handful of centuries. None of us like to be in the spotlight.
The one I haven’t found, though, is him. It’s been a couple hundred years this time, longer than any other separation we’ve had. My soul aches to see him again. We’ve been though so much together. He knows me better than anyone else.
I found my first gray hair recently, which is why I’ve come to you. Time is running out.
Edit: spelling, punctuation and grammar. | Odd dream I think. I reach to grab my phone. It’s barely 3?I attempt to work on my computer but don’t get much work done.
Clock strikes 7 AM and I’m on my way to work.
I stay busy, so much that I lose track of time. Shit, it’s 6:30 PM and I didn’t take lunch. I’m starved and about ready to go home.
I arrive to an unfamiliar house. My door is open but I’m not bothered by it one bit. After all, I slept there that night and everything felt fine. I’m safe.
A man appears at my door step. I ask how he found me. “I’ll always find you. We”re connected, don’t you remember?”
“What are you taking about? I have a lover. He wouldn’t be happy if he saw you here.” I reply. Just as I’m beginning to part ways he shouts, “Kitty be careful. They know who you are and you might just be in trouble”.
I run to my lovers house. He’s sitting on his leather couch smoking. The smell of his cigar disgusts me.
I hop on top of him. Wrap my legs so tight around his body expecting to feel the same, but he feels lifeless. Is this my lover?
Not noticing his friends all hanging out. I tell him of my encounter and ask if he could join me on my venture back.
They laugh and begin to mock me. I get up to slap his roommate. I then look into his eyes and realize he too is lifeless.
Annoyed, my lover grabs me. He looks into my eyes. I feel his soul reaching out to hug me. He resists. And in instead gently kisses my forehead.
I’m comforted by this and remember thinking, everything will be fine. He brings 2 of his girl friends with us.
Confused but welcoming I agree and off we go.
I arrive back at my apt and it looks like someone has trashed my belongings. Wait, I look again and realize it’s everything I donated last week.
I turn to my lover, “you were with me when I donated these, how are they all back”?
Lover shrugs, “ I dunno, pack your shit and let’s go”.
The two girls are now dressed in black.
Girl 1 approaches me, she’s so close I can feel her warm, wet breath when she whispers in my ear, “ tsk tsk tsk, look who had some fun in here” and walks away.
Girl 2 already ahead of me, twirls twice and walks slowly to the closet right up front, “Here Kitty, Kitty....”
Girl 1 runs up to catch up to Girl 2 as they each pull the closet door open.
My jaw drops. It’s that man. His feet are tied to the rod. His clothes soaked in blood as his body dangles.
“I’m tired Kitty and they found me”. Ew, he’s missing an eye. No it’s just been stabbed, but he can still see I think.
I fall to my knees. Crawl to him as I can’t bring myself to stand up. I realize I can’t breath. Im being pulled. No I’m being choked, I can’t see who is behind me.
Who’s choking me!?
I struggle but manage to lay on my back and see my lover glaring above me.
I hear them all laugh. Confused I gasp for my last breath. I manage to pretend to lose consciousness. Hold your breath I think. Let your heart beat slow down I think to myself. I stare into my lovers eyes.
Time pauses for a second.
His soul reaches out to touch me again. And it hugs me. I suddenly remember my last encounter with my Lover.
Remember when I asked if you wanted to go first? Or if you prefer it be me? Cheers to you being first. I feel a peaceful presence then his soul let’s go of me.
I’m back in reality and my lover realizes I’m not dead. Winks then removes his hand from my neck.
Let’s go he tells the others. I’m now surrounded by a cast of black entities swaying above me. They leave us there. Once the coast is clear I crawl to the man. As I stand up I realize I can’t. My body is glued to the floor boards.
I break my chest away. Weird I thought I could feel the pain, but I don’t.
I eventually break free, and let the man off the rod.
“How’d you manage that Kitty?” I thought we were doomed with death.
I feel the cold breeze brush across my face. I feel a moment of relief. I think we are dead.
*annoying alarm clock rings
It’s 7:30 AM. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | Nonus was a cruel man; a jailer. Renowned throughout Gaul and Germania for his participation in the slave trade. Someone you’ve beaten into submission for years and years will never say no to your every whim and need.
I was ten years old when he bought me.
I was thirteen when I caught his eye for the first time. I guess he’d thought I was exotic looking. At fifteen I’d started bleeding, and he made me his wife. When I was his slave, I thought I’d known the full extent of his cruelty. As his wife, I learned that it had unending depths. I learned to tie my chiton in such a way that it hid the purple splotches on my collarbones, to sit in such a way that bruises on my thighs were invisible to the populace.
I forget what day it was when I first noticed the prisoner, but it was evening. The shadow stretched long and languid over the face of the sundial. Ides, maybe. Summer, for sure. It’s been a long time, but I remember the moment exactly.
His eyes caught mine, and I was shocked to see the reflection of aquamarine. The same I had observed in looking glasses, in puddles. The same as mine. Raven black hair hung stringy around his shoulders, and his torso was covered in welts. I winced from the courtyard as my husband threw him into the pit and I heard one of his arms snap.
\*\*\*
I’d finished my duties for the day, let my husband take his frustration out on my body, then fed him. He was remarkably ungrateful. I suppose I would be too, if I’d incurred the social risk of a former slave as a wife only to find out she was barren. I suppose I would be too, if I was too stupid or too naïve to know about poison or divorce. Or maybe he liked having a ragdoll, a punching bag. Would a Roman citizen of noble birth with a well-connected father allow such things to happen to her? No; that is why I was Nonus’ wife, I guess.
It was also my duty to go make sure all the cells were locked, to give bread and water to the men in the carts.
I thought of the man with the eyes like mine, and folded up rice into grape leaves, hiding them in my belt, my veil.
\*\*\*
“*Why do you let him hurt you, sister?*”
I haven’t heard that language since my father said goodbye to me. Tears well in my eyes and I find that I must consciously search to string the words together, to use the grammar that is familiar yet now unfamiliar. I turn, and find the voice is coming from the pit. The stranger, the man with my eyes.
“*There is no choice. I was sold. I must obey.*” I reply. It feels like I am speaking a language from a different life. I lower my veil around my neck, taking the grape leaves and adding them to the normal ration of bread and water. “*Eat. Tomorrow I will see if I can get milk.*”
\*\*\*
Mercifully, Nonus was always a heavy sleeper. A legion could march by, belligerent and with swords and shields clanging, and he would remain unmoving. A stone, a corpse. I’d talked to the prisoner for a fortnight. He told me about my homeland, how green the rolling hills were, how there were lakes nestled between mountains. How the near constant rain nourished the plants and animals. I listened to him speak my mother tongue and cried while my bruises throbbed.
Nonus never kept prisoners for more than a fortnight.
Naturally, I'd stolen the key.
“*Thank you, sister. I know not how to get home, but I will find my way. We shall make a blood oath. You will find me again, and we can talk once more, for as long as we shall live. Forever connected.*”
He took my hand and before I could withdraw it, I felt his sharp fingernail draw across my palm. The cut burnt and I felt sticky warmth trickle from my hand. When I looked up, he was gone.
\*\*\*
Nonus beat me and left me for dead in the forest when he found out the prisoner was gone. My bones cracked, my skull half-shattered, one blue eye bulging out of the socket. It felt as if all my innards had ruptured. I remember looking at my leg, and seeing the yellow, sharp spear of what had been my femur sticking out of my thigh, bent at an unnatural angle.
This was the first time I wished for death.
My body knitted itself together over three days. It hurt almost as bad as when Nonus had broken my bones and my spirit in the first place. Animals were no longer drawn to the scent of my blood; a wolf had whimpered and scampered away when my femur shifted and I shrieked, when it withdrew back into my skin and made hard contact with the remaining fragments.
When I got up, covered in dried blood, my own vomit, piss, feces, I was a woman reborn.
\*\*\*
I cannot count all the times I should have let death take me. I cannot count all the times I have tried to end my life myself. I learned that Nonus was not the only cruel man in the world. And that men and women are crueler than gods, or devils, or anything we could think up to justify our behavior.
The only times I didn’t really mind were the times I just got sick, or the freak accidents. The plague of Justinian sucked, and so did the Black Death. Both painful and annoying. Each day I had to rest was one day less that I was journeying, that I was looking for him. I wanted to hear more stories. I wanted to give him stuffed grape leaves again.
I can tell you that most of what they say about Countess Bathory is true; servants put me on the corpse pile after the woman drained my blood over a big porcelain ewer. Not the most painful, but the messiest.
The Inquisition was terrible. I was broken on the Catherine wheel a few times. The breast ripper is probably the most painful, but the pear of anguish is a close second.
I was burnt in Würzburg, and hanged in Salem.
I felt like an idiot when it occurred to me to remember what he’d said about our homeland. Green. Rainy. I hid on a trading galleon heading from the colonies to Great Britain. I hoped finding a ship to Ireland would be just as easy.
I ‘died’ a few times during the famine, and then again during the Troubles. Not the worst ones either. Getting shot is the easiest if the killer has good aim.
Last year I decided to go to a local ceili, to get out of the house, if anything. I recognized him immediately, the raven black hair that I'd seen so long ago, that had reminded me of something. It took almost three thousand years to remember. He had my father's hair. The fiddler looked up at me with bright, aqua eyes as I opened the door, taking off my hood and exposing bright copper curls.
“*Deartháir*.“ | Odd dream I think. I reach to grab my phone. It’s barely 3?I attempt to work on my computer but don’t get much work done.
Clock strikes 7 AM and I’m on my way to work.
I stay busy, so much that I lose track of time. Shit, it’s 6:30 PM and I didn’t take lunch. I’m starved and about ready to go home.
I arrive to an unfamiliar house. My door is open but I’m not bothered by it one bit. After all, I slept there that night and everything felt fine. I’m safe.
A man appears at my door step. I ask how he found me. “I’ll always find you. We”re connected, don’t you remember?”
“What are you taking about? I have a lover. He wouldn’t be happy if he saw you here.” I reply. Just as I’m beginning to part ways he shouts, “Kitty be careful. They know who you are and you might just be in trouble”.
I run to my lovers house. He’s sitting on his leather couch smoking. The smell of his cigar disgusts me.
I hop on top of him. Wrap my legs so tight around his body expecting to feel the same, but he feels lifeless. Is this my lover?
Not noticing his friends all hanging out. I tell him of my encounter and ask if he could join me on my venture back.
They laugh and begin to mock me. I get up to slap his roommate. I then look into his eyes and realize he too is lifeless.
Annoyed, my lover grabs me. He looks into my eyes. I feel his soul reaching out to hug me. He resists. And in instead gently kisses my forehead.
I’m comforted by this and remember thinking, everything will be fine. He brings 2 of his girl friends with us.
Confused but welcoming I agree and off we go.
I arrive back at my apt and it looks like someone has trashed my belongings. Wait, I look again and realize it’s everything I donated last week.
I turn to my lover, “you were with me when I donated these, how are they all back”?
Lover shrugs, “ I dunno, pack your shit and let’s go”.
The two girls are now dressed in black.
Girl 1 approaches me, she’s so close I can feel her warm, wet breath when she whispers in my ear, “ tsk tsk tsk, look who had some fun in here” and walks away.
Girl 2 already ahead of me, twirls twice and walks slowly to the closet right up front, “Here Kitty, Kitty....”
Girl 1 runs up to catch up to Girl 2 as they each pull the closet door open.
My jaw drops. It’s that man. His feet are tied to the rod. His clothes soaked in blood as his body dangles.
“I’m tired Kitty and they found me”. Ew, he’s missing an eye. No it’s just been stabbed, but he can still see I think.
I fall to my knees. Crawl to him as I can’t bring myself to stand up. I realize I can’t breath. Im being pulled. No I’m being choked, I can’t see who is behind me.
Who’s choking me!?
I struggle but manage to lay on my back and see my lover glaring above me.
I hear them all laugh. Confused I gasp for my last breath. I manage to pretend to lose consciousness. Hold your breath I think. Let your heart beat slow down I think to myself. I stare into my lovers eyes.
Time pauses for a second.
His soul reaches out to touch me again. And it hugs me. I suddenly remember my last encounter with my Lover.
Remember when I asked if you wanted to go first? Or if you prefer it be me? Cheers to you being first. I feel a peaceful presence then his soul let’s go of me.
I’m back in reality and my lover realizes I’m not dead. Winks then removes his hand from my neck.
Let’s go he tells the others. I’m now surrounded by a cast of black entities swaying above me. They leave us there. Once the coast is clear I crawl to the man. As I stand up I realize I can’t. My body is glued to the floor boards.
I break my chest away. Weird I thought I could feel the pain, but I don’t.
I eventually break free, and let the man off the rod.
“How’d you manage that Kitty?” I thought we were doomed with death.
I feel the cold breeze brush across my face. I feel a moment of relief. I think we are dead.
*annoying alarm clock rings
It’s 7:30 AM. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | Rage, it's a funny thing. It gives you strength beyond your norm, but dulls the mind. It is for that reason I am stuck like this.
Back in 1105 BC, I was a prisoner. For good reason I might add, with the killing spree I went on after my sister was murdered. Anyway, whilst I was trapped, waiting to be executed, another prisoner was thrown in my cell. He was an older man, with an uncommon spark of intelligence in his eyes.
We sat there for days, first in silence, then we started talking. He hatched the plan to escape, relying on my physical strength to break out. Of course, I agreed, and that night we made our escape. The rage filled me again, and seizing it I fought the guards, killing those who didn't run.
As we stood out in the light of the full moon, he asked for my hand. Still riding the aftermath of frenzied slaughter, I didn't think twice. He promised that we would be brothers of blood, and like that my fate was sealed.
We went our separate ways after that, but after a while I realised there was more to that oath then simple words. Wounds healed within hours, with pain itself dulled. I didn't care though, it meant I could fight for longer, and fight I did.
For centuries I have travelled the lands, and fought in every war I could. As time has marched on, and weaponry has, I have grown into quite the Jack of all blades. But I am now tired of aimlessly wandering and fighting. I need a purpose.
I have searched for that man, as he is the only one who can truly know me, and ask for either release, or to be given a reason to continue. My search has only recently begun to speed up, with the invention of the internet. I am on his trail, and I will find him. | Numbness.
That's all I'm feeling ever since I realised I am not going to die. All feelings are somehow connected to our mortality. We need to love, just so we can feel alive, we need to fear death, just so we can find ambition. Now... nothing.
I was once rich a thousand years ago. I lost it all, didn't care. Realised it's just a game... a mortal man's game. What the use in competing for the riches if you've got all the cheat codes installed? I was once famous for my poetry, about 500 years ago. I used to change my identity every 100 years. Began to consider it just another project, a new life, once every century.
I was a merchant, a painter, a storyteller, an actor, a comedian... I did it all. What's the use? I once confessed my immortality to my love, it ended bad. It took almost a lifetime for people to forget who I was again. That is... a normal lifetime.
My body may be immortal, but it takes a toll on my mind.
Now society has evolved, anonymity is a luxury. It's just a matter of time until they will discover who I am and start testing me. I know there's no other way I could end up.
I am always questioning who that was, my blood brother. He made me like this. I remember he asked me for my eternal loyalty to him, like brothers... forever. Didn't seem like much back then.
It took me centuries of thought, but knowing that my outcome is going to be one of suffering and hell, I came to realise... I became brothers with the Devil.
This is my punishment for that. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | You may not know this, but your memory is finite.
This is fine for your average man. 80-100 years of memories and then you die before anything bad happens. Hopefully anyway.
Not me though. No.
I've been alive for 3000 years. I ran out of room a long time ago.
I know a few things. After a while... I'm not sure how long... I noticed I couldn't remember things. Important things.
So I made a list.
I've been married at least 145 times.
I know the names of 33 of those people.
It's hard. You make a note of their name because how ever real it feels at the time... They'll fade like everything else.
The children are the hardest.
I've outlived at least 843 of my children.
There are gaps in my notes of their names because sometimes I feel its better to forget.
But the thing is... Reading my history... Its just like reading someone else's.
It doesn't feel real.
Few things do these days.
What does?
I remember killing my 57th wife. I remember everything about it. Vividly. The pain makes it real.
Things seem more inconsequential when you live forever. Nothing matters. Your morals... Waver in time.
1500 years or so later, I still remember everything about that moment. Every minute detail.
She lives forever in my head.
I've been married to Samantha for 12 years now.
It's more than love.
She believes me when I tell her what I've seen.
I can't lose her to time.
I must remember her. I must do what it takes.
I am stood outside my house with a claw hammer in my hand.
The blood and brains of my son drips from it to the ground. I'll remember him too.
I open the door and call for Samantha.
I can smell dinner. She's made lamb and onions.
I'll remember her.
Forever. | Numbness.
That's all I'm feeling ever since I realised I am not going to die. All feelings are somehow connected to our mortality. We need to love, just so we can feel alive, we need to fear death, just so we can find ambition. Now... nothing.
I was once rich a thousand years ago. I lost it all, didn't care. Realised it's just a game... a mortal man's game. What the use in competing for the riches if you've got all the cheat codes installed? I was once famous for my poetry, about 500 years ago. I used to change my identity every 100 years. Began to consider it just another project, a new life, once every century.
I was a merchant, a painter, a storyteller, an actor, a comedian... I did it all. What's the use? I once confessed my immortality to my love, it ended bad. It took almost a lifetime for people to forget who I was again. That is... a normal lifetime.
My body may be immortal, but it takes a toll on my mind.
Now society has evolved, anonymity is a luxury. It's just a matter of time until they will discover who I am and start testing me. I know there's no other way I could end up.
I am always questioning who that was, my blood brother. He made me like this. I remember he asked me for my eternal loyalty to him, like brothers... forever. Didn't seem like much back then.
It took me centuries of thought, but knowing that my outcome is going to be one of suffering and hell, I came to realise... I became brothers with the Devil.
This is my punishment for that. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | Rage, it's a funny thing. It gives you strength beyond your norm, but dulls the mind. It is for that reason I am stuck like this.
Back in 1105 BC, I was a prisoner. For good reason I might add, with the killing spree I went on after my sister was murdered. Anyway, whilst I was trapped, waiting to be executed, another prisoner was thrown in my cell. He was an older man, with an uncommon spark of intelligence in his eyes.
We sat there for days, first in silence, then we started talking. He hatched the plan to escape, relying on my physical strength to break out. Of course, I agreed, and that night we made our escape. The rage filled me again, and seizing it I fought the guards, killing those who didn't run.
As we stood out in the light of the full moon, he asked for my hand. Still riding the aftermath of frenzied slaughter, I didn't think twice. He promised that we would be brothers of blood, and like that my fate was sealed.
We went our separate ways after that, but after a while I realised there was more to that oath then simple words. Wounds healed within hours, with pain itself dulled. I didn't care though, it meant I could fight for longer, and fight I did.
For centuries I have travelled the lands, and fought in every war I could. As time has marched on, and weaponry has, I have grown into quite the Jack of all blades. But I am now tired of aimlessly wandering and fighting. I need a purpose.
I have searched for that man, as he is the only one who can truly know me, and ask for either release, or to be given a reason to continue. My search has only recently begun to speed up, with the invention of the internet. I am on his trail, and I will find him. | Witchcraft they called it. The reasoning for his imprisonment, atleast that is what they told me before my men slaughtered them. Why i didn’t have them kill him aswell i don’t know. Maybe it was the eyes, those bright blue eyes staring back at me from the bottom of the well. Those are in anycase the only thing i remember about him, not that it matter though. i probably wouldnt be able to recognise him if we met on the streets.
It took me longer than id like to admit to notice what he had done to me. My wife was aging and my concubines were getting numerous. The final revelation came to me someplace in France when a boy barely of age speared me on one of my campaigns. His eyes glowed with the same blue light as the man, it must have startled me, i had never lost a fight before. I later learned he was the son of a traveler who came through thier villiage many years ago. Questions about my supposed immortality were starting to raise questions so i took this chance. Leaving my kingdom in the hands of my sons I began my search for the man, the kingdom soon imploded upon my departure and i am unaware of what happened to my original bloodline.
I searched for many years, i became quite good at it eventually. The man seemed to travel from place to place staying long enough to get to know the people, but not long enough for them to get to know him, a techinque i perfected during the middle ages. However, the trail grew cold in southern Italy and i eventually had to start a new life for myself. Having been an allready great chieftain and having lived more than most men i was capable. I lived a life of decedance, greed and pleasure, culminating in the repeated stabbing of my body by the senate i helped build, by far my most painful death so far.
The change in me was abrupt, iv gone through changes later in my life. Beeing detached and having to hide your true identity does something to a man, some versions of myself i can hardly recall, and some were so extreme i think back at them with revery and fondness, as my time in Rome or what was to come next, my time in Jerusalem.
Having lived the life of violence i had to change. I wanted to help others as opposed to helping myself. But i realised that the good of one man didnt do much in this world. I had to inspire others to do good aswell. What came of it is one of proudest achivements to date. It did however also come to an abrupt end by the betrayal of one of my closest friends. Most people have thier life flash before thier eyes when they know they are going to die. For me it was a time of reflection and planning, what to do next? As i hung on the cross i soon realised my work in this iteration of my life was done and i disappeared. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | "You will live for as long as I do!"
I remember speaking these words to the raggedy man with whom I had shared the prison for the last six months. Six long dark months full of only death, despair, hunger and gloom. That man had been the only one still alive of the 10 other unfortunates that had been thrown into the dungeon all those many moons ago. I had said that more to quell my despair than to truly encourage him. He was, after all a raggedy thin man, and for as long as he was alive, I fancied my chances to live and escape.
I also remember my next words very clearly, though its only later that I understood their importance.
"Aaaaghh!" I had gasped as I had cut my hand on the exposed stone. And then, unexpectedly, I had heard my own words uttered back to me. The man stood up and grabbed my hand, and then tried to go through the bars. He was nothing but bones by now, and surprisingly, passed through. Maybe, he just needed the encouragement, or maybe only now was he thin enough to do this. Next, I had tried to attempt his feat, and, much to my own surprise, I had succeeded. It was unexpected. Freedom! At last.
We still had to be quiet and sneaky to get out of the dungeon and escape the guards. We were in no shape to take on even a lone guard, a girl of 10 could have defeated us both. So we sneaked, slithered, sidled and slunk our way past the drowsy guards, past the slumbering maids, past the festooning gardens and into the sweet dark embrace of the wild. And then, without a word, we parted ways. Two trails for our captors to follow once they realised our absence, than one. Double the chance for one, half the chance for the other, with no way of knowing which fate awaited whom.
And then I heard a weird sound, a screeching wheezing sound, and then that man was never to be found. Magic, I assumed.
That was 1105 BC. Of course, I didn't know that yet. We didn't count the years like that, or even the number of days in the year. How do I know it was 1105 BC? Because I had buried someone important that year, and buried with them their favourite toys. Toys, which were auctioned last year as genuine antiques from a dead Mesoamerican civilisation. Toys, which were dated to be from that time. Their face I no longer remember, but the toys and the pain with them I had.
And yet, today, in 2019 AD, I still remember the raggedy man who had, with his blood soaked hands, made me effectively immortal. It was blood magic, I knew from later on, that had helped us escape. Magic of a kind completely unknown to us. But magic nonetheless. That magic had moulded my body and allowed me to pass through the bars. Magic that had allowed me to run for days. Magic that had allowed me to gain power, and magic again that allowed me to exact revenge on those blood thirsty vicious enemies that ruled from those high unforgiving blood drenched pyramids.
And today, of all days, I heard that same distinctive wheezing, the same screeching. He looked a lot different, but I recognized him immediately. He was still wearing the same red Fez. And now he also had a blue beaten down wooden police box. | Witchcraft they called it. The reasoning for his imprisonment, atleast that is what they told me before my men slaughtered them. Why i didn’t have them kill him aswell i don’t know. Maybe it was the eyes, those bright blue eyes staring back at me from the bottom of the well. Those are in anycase the only thing i remember about him, not that it matter though. i probably wouldnt be able to recognise him if we met on the streets.
It took me longer than id like to admit to notice what he had done to me. My wife was aging and my concubines were getting numerous. The final revelation came to me someplace in France when a boy barely of age speared me on one of my campaigns. His eyes glowed with the same blue light as the man, it must have startled me, i had never lost a fight before. I later learned he was the son of a traveler who came through thier villiage many years ago. Questions about my supposed immortality were starting to raise questions so i took this chance. Leaving my kingdom in the hands of my sons I began my search for the man, the kingdom soon imploded upon my departure and i am unaware of what happened to my original bloodline.
I searched for many years, i became quite good at it eventually. The man seemed to travel from place to place staying long enough to get to know the people, but not long enough for them to get to know him, a techinque i perfected during the middle ages. However, the trail grew cold in southern Italy and i eventually had to start a new life for myself. Having been an allready great chieftain and having lived more than most men i was capable. I lived a life of decedance, greed and pleasure, culminating in the repeated stabbing of my body by the senate i helped build, by far my most painful death so far.
The change in me was abrupt, iv gone through changes later in my life. Beeing detached and having to hide your true identity does something to a man, some versions of myself i can hardly recall, and some were so extreme i think back at them with revery and fondness, as my time in Rome or what was to come next, my time in Jerusalem.
Having lived the life of violence i had to change. I wanted to help others as opposed to helping myself. But i realised that the good of one man didnt do much in this world. I had to inspire others to do good aswell. What came of it is one of proudest achivements to date. It did however also come to an abrupt end by the betrayal of one of my closest friends. Most people have thier life flash before thier eyes when they know they are going to die. For me it was a time of reflection and planning, what to do next? As i hung on the cross i soon realised my work in this iteration of my life was done and i disappeared. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | It's not that you're ungrateful or anything like that - but you wish you could die already and meet your loved ones that's gone to the other side without you over the years.
"Has anyone seen this man?" Is the name of the post you're making online with your sketch of what you can remember of him. You write down the name of the city you helped him escape imprisonment from in its modern name too as the last place you saw him. You spiel a story that you want to catch up with this man you haven't seen in years who you had helped and made an oath with each other.
You write down with no remorse that you are dying.
The internet implodes and it has been shared over a hundred thousand times and you bet even more on other social media platforms.
Unsurprisingly, you receive false messages.
You sigh after reading once again another fake claim. You were just about to go to bed when you received a new notification - this time with the name of that city but in its old name - written the olden way and the message is written of the old language that is for all intents and purposes considered dead and your entire body is wide awake.
> Hello friend. I hear you've been looking for me.
It begins pleasantly and soon dread pools in your gut the more you read.
> I remember you still of course, I am indebted to your help all those years ago and at your kindness and generosity. I look forward to meet with you again - but I will only do this so the media will stop spreading your eerie accurate depiction of my appearance. I am rather fond of who I look like this generation and for you to ruin it by spreading it in this time... Well - that simply won't do, will it? I implore you - my friend and ally for you are of course that, to meet me tomorrow noon in the park by your local library and take a picture so they will calm down once this has been resolved.
Your hands are trembling at his signature.
> Yours always - the felon
This was a mistake.
You abruptly delete your post and send messages to all media to stop broadcasting/sharing as you've already found him and that he's a private man and you've upsetted him.
Of course, this was your new mistake. Believing the media would listen to you.
You delete all traces of your online identity and are in the process of recreating a new offline and online one when there is a knock on your door.
It is 1:19 AM - no one should be here. Yet you already know for who else would it be but the felon?
_"My ally."_ Your dead native language flows from the other man you've been looking for in a strange accent. _"Are you not?"_
He makes himself comfortable in your living room and you silently, gobsmacked as you were, watch him do so with no protest. Instead, you calmly close the door behind you and plead your case.
_"Undo the blood oath. Let me pass."_ You all but beg. _"Please."_
This man who cursed you frowns and tilts his head in confusion. _"Many others would kill to have what I've given you, do you not want to reconsider?"_
You shake your head, nerves somewhat uncoiling at the serenity of the situation. _"I wish to be gone from this life. Many others may have lasted longer but I have lived for far too long than I should have."_
He hums and smiles. _"Very well, may you find peace in nothingness."_ A knife is brandished and you feel your nerves coil tightly as he comes closer to you. _"This may hurt."_
So it did. You screamed and he lets you scream. Your dwelling is sound proof.
Blood spills and stains the cream carpet and you feel consciousness fade away from you.
_"May you rest."_ The Felon kneels next to you and fingers are combed through your hair. _"In hell."_
Your eyes snap wide open from its drooping state and your fingers feebly attempt to claw at his legs as he stands up and walks away from you.
His laughter rings in your skull as you fade away. | Witchcraft they called it. The reasoning for his imprisonment, atleast that is what they told me before my men slaughtered them. Why i didn’t have them kill him aswell i don’t know. Maybe it was the eyes, those bright blue eyes staring back at me from the bottom of the well. Those are in anycase the only thing i remember about him, not that it matter though. i probably wouldnt be able to recognise him if we met on the streets.
It took me longer than id like to admit to notice what he had done to me. My wife was aging and my concubines were getting numerous. The final revelation came to me someplace in France when a boy barely of age speared me on one of my campaigns. His eyes glowed with the same blue light as the man, it must have startled me, i had never lost a fight before. I later learned he was the son of a traveler who came through thier villiage many years ago. Questions about my supposed immortality were starting to raise questions so i took this chance. Leaving my kingdom in the hands of my sons I began my search for the man, the kingdom soon imploded upon my departure and i am unaware of what happened to my original bloodline.
I searched for many years, i became quite good at it eventually. The man seemed to travel from place to place staying long enough to get to know the people, but not long enough for them to get to know him, a techinque i perfected during the middle ages. However, the trail grew cold in southern Italy and i eventually had to start a new life for myself. Having been an allready great chieftain and having lived more than most men i was capable. I lived a life of decedance, greed and pleasure, culminating in the repeated stabbing of my body by the senate i helped build, by far my most painful death so far.
The change in me was abrupt, iv gone through changes later in my life. Beeing detached and having to hide your true identity does something to a man, some versions of myself i can hardly recall, and some were so extreme i think back at them with revery and fondness, as my time in Rome or what was to come next, my time in Jerusalem.
Having lived the life of violence i had to change. I wanted to help others as opposed to helping myself. But i realised that the good of one man didnt do much in this world. I had to inspire others to do good aswell. What came of it is one of proudest achivements to date. It did however also come to an abrupt end by the betrayal of one of my closest friends. Most people have thier life flash before thier eyes when they know they are going to die. For me it was a time of reflection and planning, what to do next? As i hung on the cross i soon realised my work in this iteration of my life was done and i disappeared. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | The midnight winds fluttered the wet leaves in the canopy above us, and the waves could be heard crashing against rock and granite.
Nine torches with different types of animal blood splattered over the base were arranged in a circular shape, and we stood at the focal point within the ritual ground.
“Here”. One of the two obsidian arrowheads was grasped in his hand, channeling immense pressure indenting his flesh.
When the stars and our ethereal souls collided, we gashed the palms of our hands and shook. The ritual was a success; to become essentially immortal, but there was one issue...
The year is 2020, a bag of makeshift IV fluid sat on a pedestal next to the rickety IKEA bed some entrepreneur dumped in a dumpster twenty-seven years past. I am homeless, unable to adapt into conventional society. No funds, no peers, no stable jobs, just a man with the AIDS virus because he decided to shake a mans fucking bloodied hand. | Witchcraft they called it. The reasoning for his imprisonment, atleast that is what they told me before my men slaughtered them. Why i didn’t have them kill him aswell i don’t know. Maybe it was the eyes, those bright blue eyes staring back at me from the bottom of the well. Those are in anycase the only thing i remember about him, not that it matter though. i probably wouldnt be able to recognise him if we met on the streets.
It took me longer than id like to admit to notice what he had done to me. My wife was aging and my concubines were getting numerous. The final revelation came to me someplace in France when a boy barely of age speared me on one of my campaigns. His eyes glowed with the same blue light as the man, it must have startled me, i had never lost a fight before. I later learned he was the son of a traveler who came through thier villiage many years ago. Questions about my supposed immortality were starting to raise questions so i took this chance. Leaving my kingdom in the hands of my sons I began my search for the man, the kingdom soon imploded upon my departure and i am unaware of what happened to my original bloodline.
I searched for many years, i became quite good at it eventually. The man seemed to travel from place to place staying long enough to get to know the people, but not long enough for them to get to know him, a techinque i perfected during the middle ages. However, the trail grew cold in southern Italy and i eventually had to start a new life for myself. Having been an allready great chieftain and having lived more than most men i was capable. I lived a life of decedance, greed and pleasure, culminating in the repeated stabbing of my body by the senate i helped build, by far my most painful death so far.
The change in me was abrupt, iv gone through changes later in my life. Beeing detached and having to hide your true identity does something to a man, some versions of myself i can hardly recall, and some were so extreme i think back at them with revery and fondness, as my time in Rome or what was to come next, my time in Jerusalem.
Having lived the life of violence i had to change. I wanted to help others as opposed to helping myself. But i realised that the good of one man didnt do much in this world. I had to inspire others to do good aswell. What came of it is one of proudest achivements to date. It did however also come to an abrupt end by the betrayal of one of my closest friends. Most people have thier life flash before thier eyes when they know they are going to die. For me it was a time of reflection and planning, what to do next? As i hung on the cross i soon realised my work in this iteration of my life was done and i disappeared. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | You may not know this, but your memory is finite.
This is fine for your average man. 80-100 years of memories and then you die before anything bad happens. Hopefully anyway.
Not me though. No.
I've been alive for 3000 years. I ran out of room a long time ago.
I know a few things. After a while... I'm not sure how long... I noticed I couldn't remember things. Important things.
So I made a list.
I've been married at least 145 times.
I know the names of 33 of those people.
It's hard. You make a note of their name because how ever real it feels at the time... They'll fade like everything else.
The children are the hardest.
I've outlived at least 843 of my children.
There are gaps in my notes of their names because sometimes I feel its better to forget.
But the thing is... Reading my history... Its just like reading someone else's.
It doesn't feel real.
Few things do these days.
What does?
I remember killing my 57th wife. I remember everything about it. Vividly. The pain makes it real.
Things seem more inconsequential when you live forever. Nothing matters. Your morals... Waver in time.
1500 years or so later, I still remember everything about that moment. Every minute detail.
She lives forever in my head.
I've been married to Samantha for 12 years now.
It's more than love.
She believes me when I tell her what I've seen.
I can't lose her to time.
I must remember her. I must do what it takes.
I am stood outside my house with a claw hammer in my hand.
The blood and brains of my son drips from it to the ground. I'll remember him too.
I open the door and call for Samantha.
I can smell dinner. She's made lamb and onions.
I'll remember her.
Forever. | Witchcraft they called it. The reasoning for his imprisonment, atleast that is what they told me before my men slaughtered them. Why i didn’t have them kill him aswell i don’t know. Maybe it was the eyes, those bright blue eyes staring back at me from the bottom of the well. Those are in anycase the only thing i remember about him, not that it matter though. i probably wouldnt be able to recognise him if we met on the streets.
It took me longer than id like to admit to notice what he had done to me. My wife was aging and my concubines were getting numerous. The final revelation came to me someplace in France when a boy barely of age speared me on one of my campaigns. His eyes glowed with the same blue light as the man, it must have startled me, i had never lost a fight before. I later learned he was the son of a traveler who came through thier villiage many years ago. Questions about my supposed immortality were starting to raise questions so i took this chance. Leaving my kingdom in the hands of my sons I began my search for the man, the kingdom soon imploded upon my departure and i am unaware of what happened to my original bloodline.
I searched for many years, i became quite good at it eventually. The man seemed to travel from place to place staying long enough to get to know the people, but not long enough for them to get to know him, a techinque i perfected during the middle ages. However, the trail grew cold in southern Italy and i eventually had to start a new life for myself. Having been an allready great chieftain and having lived more than most men i was capable. I lived a life of decedance, greed and pleasure, culminating in the repeated stabbing of my body by the senate i helped build, by far my most painful death so far.
The change in me was abrupt, iv gone through changes later in my life. Beeing detached and having to hide your true identity does something to a man, some versions of myself i can hardly recall, and some were so extreme i think back at them with revery and fondness, as my time in Rome or what was to come next, my time in Jerusalem.
Having lived the life of violence i had to change. I wanted to help others as opposed to helping myself. But i realised that the good of one man didnt do much in this world. I had to inspire others to do good aswell. What came of it is one of proudest achivements to date. It did however also come to an abrupt end by the betrayal of one of my closest friends. Most people have thier life flash before thier eyes when they know they are going to die. For me it was a time of reflection and planning, what to do next? As i hung on the cross i soon realised my work in this iteration of my life was done and i disappeared. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | "Shake my hand."
Those were the last words I heard him speak. The escape operation had been incredibly difficult. There were enough guards to fill a soccer stadium surrounding this prison for one person. The person I had just killed each and every last guard to free. He had told me to make a blood oath, and become blood brothers. And I did so, to my demise. That was BC 1105. The year now is 2020. I have seen the rise and fall of many empires, the birth and death of the supposed Jesus Christ, although I never believed it. I saw both world wars, and the cold war, fought in both of them too. I became a legend among the ranks, but also a secret to the generals and lieutenants. In order to protect my identity, where in the battle of Mons my absolute, supposedly suicidal rampage caused the enemy troops to flee in sheer terror, the troops, my friends, told the authorities that angels and flown down and scared off the Nazis. The excuse still made me giggle slightly to this day.
I guess I'm crazy, but living for 3000 years does that to people. I hadn't aged a day since I had rescued him from that torture house the Chinese had called a prison. I didn't even know my own name anymore, or at least my original name. 3000 years gives you a lot of time to learn things, and it also unlocks areas of the brain that would remain dormant for a normal human's entire life. I could forge to an exact degree (with both metals and identities) meaning that I have had an inordinate amount of names. The one I had at the moment was Will.
I had been looking for the man for about 2500 years. At first the immortality was fun, and I showed off to everyone. But after watching everyone I loved die before my eyes, it became less so. I tried making blood pacts with others to try and give them my immortality, but to no avail. I realised that I could not make a single friend for the rest of my life. This was depressing,. but eventually I numbed myself to it, and to every other type of pain too. You could shoot me in the head, but I wouldn't die. I was put to the guillotine in France for being a witch after they found out about my invincibility, but my head just grow straight back.
But I kept on searching and searching. I would never find him, though, I knew, because he was dead. I found out yesterday. I saw his grave. I bore the name "Graman Shore".
I'm so tired...
I might just go for a snooze...
​
And he felt no more. | Witchcraft they called it. The reasoning for his imprisonment, atleast that is what they told me before my men slaughtered them. Why i didn’t have them kill him aswell i don’t know. Maybe it was the eyes, those bright blue eyes staring back at me from the bottom of the well. Those are in anycase the only thing i remember about him, not that it matter though. i probably wouldnt be able to recognise him if we met on the streets.
It took me longer than id like to admit to notice what he had done to me. My wife was aging and my concubines were getting numerous. The final revelation came to me someplace in France when a boy barely of age speared me on one of my campaigns. His eyes glowed with the same blue light as the man, it must have startled me, i had never lost a fight before. I later learned he was the son of a traveler who came through thier villiage many years ago. Questions about my supposed immortality were starting to raise questions so i took this chance. Leaving my kingdom in the hands of my sons I began my search for the man, the kingdom soon imploded upon my departure and i am unaware of what happened to my original bloodline.
I searched for many years, i became quite good at it eventually. The man seemed to travel from place to place staying long enough to get to know the people, but not long enough for them to get to know him, a techinque i perfected during the middle ages. However, the trail grew cold in southern Italy and i eventually had to start a new life for myself. Having been an allready great chieftain and having lived more than most men i was capable. I lived a life of decedance, greed and pleasure, culminating in the repeated stabbing of my body by the senate i helped build, by far my most painful death so far.
The change in me was abrupt, iv gone through changes later in my life. Beeing detached and having to hide your true identity does something to a man, some versions of myself i can hardly recall, and some were so extreme i think back at them with revery and fondness, as my time in Rome or what was to come next, my time in Jerusalem.
Having lived the life of violence i had to change. I wanted to help others as opposed to helping myself. But i realised that the good of one man didnt do much in this world. I had to inspire others to do good aswell. What came of it is one of proudest achivements to date. It did however also come to an abrupt end by the betrayal of one of my closest friends. Most people have thier life flash before thier eyes when they know they are going to die. For me it was a time of reflection and planning, what to do next? As i hung on the cross i soon realised my work in this iteration of my life was done and i disappeared. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | We had both been wanderers when we met, far from our birth lands. How I found him that day I’ll never know. Was it just random chance or the will of the gods?
He had been bound hand a foot and placed in a tide pool. The local tribe was offering him as a sacrifice to their sea deity. I climbed over the rocks just in time to loosen the ropes and set him free, before the incoming tides drowned him. Why the priests weren’t watching or no one stopped our escape I never have been able to puzzle out.
We made our way along the coast until we found a small cave where I could tend his wounds, keep him warm and share some food. To my surprise his wounds were healed the next morning, with no signs of the cuts that had been all over his body. Oddly enough, so were the few cuts I had received climbing over the rocks to reach him.
We had both managed to develop a pidgin language through our travels and were able to have some basic communication. I learned he had come from the east. His people had been nomads. He, like myself, had always been adventurous and had left his people to explore the world.
We quickly became friends and traveled together for many years afterward, each of us eager to see what was over the horizon. We hunted together, fought together, survived together. He always joked that we would die together.
After many years I had a desire to see my homeland. We argued over going, which was the first time he and I disagreed about where to go next. He kept telling me I shouldn’t. That my people wouldn’t accept me. I thought he feared I would want to stay with them.
How I wish I had listened.
We made our way to my village but he would not come closer than a day’s walk. Giving up on convincing him to go with me I made my way to the village. It was much larger than I had remembered though the totems and the central hall were still in their place.
As I looked for familiar faces I heard a woman’s scream. I turned to see a woman staring at me, weeping.
My beautiful younger sister was a woman grown, with two young girls beside her. She sobbed my name but refused to come closer. Several others had gathered around us and I began to recognize others. They were all just much older than I had remembered. And here I was, with the same young man’s face as when I had left.
I don’t like to revisit those memories. That was the last time I saw my village. Lets leave it at that.
When I retuned to our campsite I could tell he knew what had happened. He held me that night as I sobbed. We didn’t talk for days. Eventually he shared that he had gone through the same with his family too.
We spent several more years together after that but eventually parted ways. We would find each every few decade. Sometimes we would spend years together, others just a few days. We became lovers at times, others we parted with angry words. But we always came back to one another.
It’s gotten harder to hide over time. The world is so much more populated. Governments are documenting their citizens with ever more secure methods. Social media has made it much easier for people to connect.
I’ve found a few other Ancients this way. There are some tell-tale signs if you know what to look for. There aren’t very many of us. Some are centuries older than I am, others have only been in this journey for a handful of centuries. None of us like to be in the spotlight.
The one I haven’t found, though, is him. It’s been a couple hundred years this time, longer than any other separation we’ve had. My soul aches to see him again. We’ve been though so much together. He knows me better than anyone else.
I found my first gray hair recently, which is why I’ve come to you. Time is running out.
Edit: spelling, punctuation and grammar. | Witchcraft they called it. The reasoning for his imprisonment, atleast that is what they told me before my men slaughtered them. Why i didn’t have them kill him aswell i don’t know. Maybe it was the eyes, those bright blue eyes staring back at me from the bottom of the well. Those are in anycase the only thing i remember about him, not that it matter though. i probably wouldnt be able to recognise him if we met on the streets.
It took me longer than id like to admit to notice what he had done to me. My wife was aging and my concubines were getting numerous. The final revelation came to me someplace in France when a boy barely of age speared me on one of my campaigns. His eyes glowed with the same blue light as the man, it must have startled me, i had never lost a fight before. I later learned he was the son of a traveler who came through thier villiage many years ago. Questions about my supposed immortality were starting to raise questions so i took this chance. Leaving my kingdom in the hands of my sons I began my search for the man, the kingdom soon imploded upon my departure and i am unaware of what happened to my original bloodline.
I searched for many years, i became quite good at it eventually. The man seemed to travel from place to place staying long enough to get to know the people, but not long enough for them to get to know him, a techinque i perfected during the middle ages. However, the trail grew cold in southern Italy and i eventually had to start a new life for myself. Having been an allready great chieftain and having lived more than most men i was capable. I lived a life of decedance, greed and pleasure, culminating in the repeated stabbing of my body by the senate i helped build, by far my most painful death so far.
The change in me was abrupt, iv gone through changes later in my life. Beeing detached and having to hide your true identity does something to a man, some versions of myself i can hardly recall, and some were so extreme i think back at them with revery and fondness, as my time in Rome or what was to come next, my time in Jerusalem.
Having lived the life of violence i had to change. I wanted to help others as opposed to helping myself. But i realised that the good of one man didnt do much in this world. I had to inspire others to do good aswell. What came of it is one of proudest achivements to date. It did however also come to an abrupt end by the betrayal of one of my closest friends. Most people have thier life flash before thier eyes when they know they are going to die. For me it was a time of reflection and planning, what to do next? As i hung on the cross i soon realised my work in this iteration of my life was done and i disappeared. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | Nonus was a cruel man; a jailer. Renowned throughout Gaul and Germania for his participation in the slave trade. Someone you’ve beaten into submission for years and years will never say no to your every whim and need.
I was ten years old when he bought me.
I was thirteen when I caught his eye for the first time. I guess he’d thought I was exotic looking. At fifteen I’d started bleeding, and he made me his wife. When I was his slave, I thought I’d known the full extent of his cruelty. As his wife, I learned that it had unending depths. I learned to tie my chiton in such a way that it hid the purple splotches on my collarbones, to sit in such a way that bruises on my thighs were invisible to the populace.
I forget what day it was when I first noticed the prisoner, but it was evening. The shadow stretched long and languid over the face of the sundial. Ides, maybe. Summer, for sure. It’s been a long time, but I remember the moment exactly.
His eyes caught mine, and I was shocked to see the reflection of aquamarine. The same I had observed in looking glasses, in puddles. The same as mine. Raven black hair hung stringy around his shoulders, and his torso was covered in welts. I winced from the courtyard as my husband threw him into the pit and I heard one of his arms snap.
\*\*\*
I’d finished my duties for the day, let my husband take his frustration out on my body, then fed him. He was remarkably ungrateful. I suppose I would be too, if I’d incurred the social risk of a former slave as a wife only to find out she was barren. I suppose I would be too, if I was too stupid or too naïve to know about poison or divorce. Or maybe he liked having a ragdoll, a punching bag. Would a Roman citizen of noble birth with a well-connected father allow such things to happen to her? No; that is why I was Nonus’ wife, I guess.
It was also my duty to go make sure all the cells were locked, to give bread and water to the men in the carts.
I thought of the man with the eyes like mine, and folded up rice into grape leaves, hiding them in my belt, my veil.
\*\*\*
“*Why do you let him hurt you, sister?*”
I haven’t heard that language since my father said goodbye to me. Tears well in my eyes and I find that I must consciously search to string the words together, to use the grammar that is familiar yet now unfamiliar. I turn, and find the voice is coming from the pit. The stranger, the man with my eyes.
“*There is no choice. I was sold. I must obey.*” I reply. It feels like I am speaking a language from a different life. I lower my veil around my neck, taking the grape leaves and adding them to the normal ration of bread and water. “*Eat. Tomorrow I will see if I can get milk.*”
\*\*\*
Mercifully, Nonus was always a heavy sleeper. A legion could march by, belligerent and with swords and shields clanging, and he would remain unmoving. A stone, a corpse. I’d talked to the prisoner for a fortnight. He told me about my homeland, how green the rolling hills were, how there were lakes nestled between mountains. How the near constant rain nourished the plants and animals. I listened to him speak my mother tongue and cried while my bruises throbbed.
Nonus never kept prisoners for more than a fortnight.
Naturally, I'd stolen the key.
“*Thank you, sister. I know not how to get home, but I will find my way. We shall make a blood oath. You will find me again, and we can talk once more, for as long as we shall live. Forever connected.*”
He took my hand and before I could withdraw it, I felt his sharp fingernail draw across my palm. The cut burnt and I felt sticky warmth trickle from my hand. When I looked up, he was gone.
\*\*\*
Nonus beat me and left me for dead in the forest when he found out the prisoner was gone. My bones cracked, my skull half-shattered, one blue eye bulging out of the socket. It felt as if all my innards had ruptured. I remember looking at my leg, and seeing the yellow, sharp spear of what had been my femur sticking out of my thigh, bent at an unnatural angle.
This was the first time I wished for death.
My body knitted itself together over three days. It hurt almost as bad as when Nonus had broken my bones and my spirit in the first place. Animals were no longer drawn to the scent of my blood; a wolf had whimpered and scampered away when my femur shifted and I shrieked, when it withdrew back into my skin and made hard contact with the remaining fragments.
When I got up, covered in dried blood, my own vomit, piss, feces, I was a woman reborn.
\*\*\*
I cannot count all the times I should have let death take me. I cannot count all the times I have tried to end my life myself. I learned that Nonus was not the only cruel man in the world. And that men and women are crueler than gods, or devils, or anything we could think up to justify our behavior.
The only times I didn’t really mind were the times I just got sick, or the freak accidents. The plague of Justinian sucked, and so did the Black Death. Both painful and annoying. Each day I had to rest was one day less that I was journeying, that I was looking for him. I wanted to hear more stories. I wanted to give him stuffed grape leaves again.
I can tell you that most of what they say about Countess Bathory is true; servants put me on the corpse pile after the woman drained my blood over a big porcelain ewer. Not the most painful, but the messiest.
The Inquisition was terrible. I was broken on the Catherine wheel a few times. The breast ripper is probably the most painful, but the pear of anguish is a close second.
I was burnt in Würzburg, and hanged in Salem.
I felt like an idiot when it occurred to me to remember what he’d said about our homeland. Green. Rainy. I hid on a trading galleon heading from the colonies to Great Britain. I hoped finding a ship to Ireland would be just as easy.
I ‘died’ a few times during the famine, and then again during the Troubles. Not the worst ones either. Getting shot is the easiest if the killer has good aim.
Last year I decided to go to a local ceili, to get out of the house, if anything. I recognized him immediately, the raven black hair that I'd seen so long ago, that had reminded me of something. It took almost three thousand years to remember. He had my father's hair. The fiddler looked up at me with bright, aqua eyes as I opened the door, taking off my hood and exposing bright copper curls.
“*Deartháir*.“ | Witchcraft they called it. The reasoning for his imprisonment, atleast that is what they told me before my men slaughtered them. Why i didn’t have them kill him aswell i don’t know. Maybe it was the eyes, those bright blue eyes staring back at me from the bottom of the well. Those are in anycase the only thing i remember about him, not that it matter though. i probably wouldnt be able to recognise him if we met on the streets.
It took me longer than id like to admit to notice what he had done to me. My wife was aging and my concubines were getting numerous. The final revelation came to me someplace in France when a boy barely of age speared me on one of my campaigns. His eyes glowed with the same blue light as the man, it must have startled me, i had never lost a fight before. I later learned he was the son of a traveler who came through thier villiage many years ago. Questions about my supposed immortality were starting to raise questions so i took this chance. Leaving my kingdom in the hands of my sons I began my search for the man, the kingdom soon imploded upon my departure and i am unaware of what happened to my original bloodline.
I searched for many years, i became quite good at it eventually. The man seemed to travel from place to place staying long enough to get to know the people, but not long enough for them to get to know him, a techinque i perfected during the middle ages. However, the trail grew cold in southern Italy and i eventually had to start a new life for myself. Having been an allready great chieftain and having lived more than most men i was capable. I lived a life of decedance, greed and pleasure, culminating in the repeated stabbing of my body by the senate i helped build, by far my most painful death so far.
The change in me was abrupt, iv gone through changes later in my life. Beeing detached and having to hide your true identity does something to a man, some versions of myself i can hardly recall, and some were so extreme i think back at them with revery and fondness, as my time in Rome or what was to come next, my time in Jerusalem.
Having lived the life of violence i had to change. I wanted to help others as opposed to helping myself. But i realised that the good of one man didnt do much in this world. I had to inspire others to do good aswell. What came of it is one of proudest achivements to date. It did however also come to an abrupt end by the betrayal of one of my closest friends. Most people have thier life flash before thier eyes when they know they are going to die. For me it was a time of reflection and planning, what to do next? As i hung on the cross i soon realised my work in this iteration of my life was done and i disappeared. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | Rage, it's a funny thing. It gives you strength beyond your norm, but dulls the mind. It is for that reason I am stuck like this.
Back in 1105 BC, I was a prisoner. For good reason I might add, with the killing spree I went on after my sister was murdered. Anyway, whilst I was trapped, waiting to be executed, another prisoner was thrown in my cell. He was an older man, with an uncommon spark of intelligence in his eyes.
We sat there for days, first in silence, then we started talking. He hatched the plan to escape, relying on my physical strength to break out. Of course, I agreed, and that night we made our escape. The rage filled me again, and seizing it I fought the guards, killing those who didn't run.
As we stood out in the light of the full moon, he asked for my hand. Still riding the aftermath of frenzied slaughter, I didn't think twice. He promised that we would be brothers of blood, and like that my fate was sealed.
We went our separate ways after that, but after a while I realised there was more to that oath then simple words. Wounds healed within hours, with pain itself dulled. I didn't care though, it meant I could fight for longer, and fight I did.
For centuries I have travelled the lands, and fought in every war I could. As time has marched on, and weaponry has, I have grown into quite the Jack of all blades. But I am now tired of aimlessly wandering and fighting. I need a purpose.
I have searched for that man, as he is the only one who can truly know me, and ask for either release, or to be given a reason to continue. My search has only recently begun to speed up, with the invention of the internet. I am on his trail, and I will find him. | "The Riders Tavern" the sign said. That was my go to spot nowadays. The ambience of the place was designed to provide a rustic atmosphere. Usually these new places got almost everything wrong. I don't really blame them, I mean it's not everyday that someone who's actually frequented taverns in the 1700s visits. But TRT, as the locals liked to call it, was a part of this chain of restaurants that had surfaced recently, named Henry's Favorite. Most of the restaurants in this chain were themed after some of the most popular periods of history. Initially my visits were just that, visits to relive some good memories of times vastly forgotten. But then it hit me, these restaurants usually get it all wrong.
Not the ones from Henry's Favorite.
On my 900th birthday, I realized that I was probably never going to die. I was long past my usual "hey immortality is pretty cool ok" speeches to myself every once a year or so. Now I was just miserable, and I wanted it to end. The realization that I would have to find this man who's face I didn't even mildly remember, was going to be extremely hard, dawned on me after the first few years. Initially I just decided to start at the top. 1105 AD, England. Blackmailing historians and scaring them with my usual immortality tricks did get me some leads, but they all would reach a dead end pretty fast. After 15 years or so of striking out, I was done. TRT would be where I'd sit for entire days, watching the TV getting silently drunk and secretly hoping that liver failure could break ancient blood spells. I had become close to the bartender, and I could tell he was concerned for me. He would chat with me about anything and everything, and he was the one who suggested I find a purpose in life. Easy for him to say. I was about a million purposes down, and I just couldn't bring myself to invest in something temporary again. But there was something about his earnestness that made me want to restaurant hop through Henry's Favorite.
The morning of 2020, April 2nd, that was the exact date 915 years ago that I had rescued him. He was not an ordinary prisoner. He was the one who the king specifically asked to torture, with the most vilest of punishments. That's why I felt sorry for him. As I sat there reminiscing this shit, I thought why I would go so far as to incur the wrath of a young new king, for a complete stranger. Sure the king was cruel,but...........the King.
In 1105 AD, England was ruled by Henry I. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | "You will live for as long as I do!"
I remember speaking these words to the raggedy man with whom I had shared the prison for the last six months. Six long dark months full of only death, despair, hunger and gloom. That man had been the only one still alive of the 10 other unfortunates that had been thrown into the dungeon all those many moons ago. I had said that more to quell my despair than to truly encourage him. He was, after all a raggedy thin man, and for as long as he was alive, I fancied my chances to live and escape.
I also remember my next words very clearly, though its only later that I understood their importance.
"Aaaaghh!" I had gasped as I had cut my hand on the exposed stone. And then, unexpectedly, I had heard my own words uttered back to me. The man stood up and grabbed my hand, and then tried to go through the bars. He was nothing but bones by now, and surprisingly, passed through. Maybe, he just needed the encouragement, or maybe only now was he thin enough to do this. Next, I had tried to attempt his feat, and, much to my own surprise, I had succeeded. It was unexpected. Freedom! At last.
We still had to be quiet and sneaky to get out of the dungeon and escape the guards. We were in no shape to take on even a lone guard, a girl of 10 could have defeated us both. So we sneaked, slithered, sidled and slunk our way past the drowsy guards, past the slumbering maids, past the festooning gardens and into the sweet dark embrace of the wild. And then, without a word, we parted ways. Two trails for our captors to follow once they realised our absence, than one. Double the chance for one, half the chance for the other, with no way of knowing which fate awaited whom.
And then I heard a weird sound, a screeching wheezing sound, and then that man was never to be found. Magic, I assumed.
That was 1105 BC. Of course, I didn't know that yet. We didn't count the years like that, or even the number of days in the year. How do I know it was 1105 BC? Because I had buried someone important that year, and buried with them their favourite toys. Toys, which were auctioned last year as genuine antiques from a dead Mesoamerican civilisation. Toys, which were dated to be from that time. Their face I no longer remember, but the toys and the pain with them I had.
And yet, today, in 2019 AD, I still remember the raggedy man who had, with his blood soaked hands, made me effectively immortal. It was blood magic, I knew from later on, that had helped us escape. Magic of a kind completely unknown to us. But magic nonetheless. That magic had moulded my body and allowed me to pass through the bars. Magic that had allowed me to run for days. Magic that had allowed me to gain power, and magic again that allowed me to exact revenge on those blood thirsty vicious enemies that ruled from those high unforgiving blood drenched pyramids.
And today, of all days, I heard that same distinctive wheezing, the same screeching. He looked a lot different, but I recognized him immediately. He was still wearing the same red Fez. And now he also had a blue beaten down wooden police box. | "The Riders Tavern" the sign said. That was my go to spot nowadays. The ambience of the place was designed to provide a rustic atmosphere. Usually these new places got almost everything wrong. I don't really blame them, I mean it's not everyday that someone who's actually frequented taverns in the 1700s visits. But TRT, as the locals liked to call it, was a part of this chain of restaurants that had surfaced recently, named Henry's Favorite. Most of the restaurants in this chain were themed after some of the most popular periods of history. Initially my visits were just that, visits to relive some good memories of times vastly forgotten. But then it hit me, these restaurants usually get it all wrong.
Not the ones from Henry's Favorite.
On my 900th birthday, I realized that I was probably never going to die. I was long past my usual "hey immortality is pretty cool ok" speeches to myself every once a year or so. Now I was just miserable, and I wanted it to end. The realization that I would have to find this man who's face I didn't even mildly remember, was going to be extremely hard, dawned on me after the first few years. Initially I just decided to start at the top. 1105 AD, England. Blackmailing historians and scaring them with my usual immortality tricks did get me some leads, but they all would reach a dead end pretty fast. After 15 years or so of striking out, I was done. TRT would be where I'd sit for entire days, watching the TV getting silently drunk and secretly hoping that liver failure could break ancient blood spells. I had become close to the bartender, and I could tell he was concerned for me. He would chat with me about anything and everything, and he was the one who suggested I find a purpose in life. Easy for him to say. I was about a million purposes down, and I just couldn't bring myself to invest in something temporary again. But there was something about his earnestness that made me want to restaurant hop through Henry's Favorite.
The morning of 2020, April 2nd, that was the exact date 915 years ago that I had rescued him. He was not an ordinary prisoner. He was the one who the king specifically asked to torture, with the most vilest of punishments. That's why I felt sorry for him. As I sat there reminiscing this shit, I thought why I would go so far as to incur the wrath of a young new king, for a complete stranger. Sure the king was cruel,but...........the King.
In 1105 AD, England was ruled by Henry I. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | You may not know this, but your memory is finite.
This is fine for your average man. 80-100 years of memories and then you die before anything bad happens. Hopefully anyway.
Not me though. No.
I've been alive for 3000 years. I ran out of room a long time ago.
I know a few things. After a while... I'm not sure how long... I noticed I couldn't remember things. Important things.
So I made a list.
I've been married at least 145 times.
I know the names of 33 of those people.
It's hard. You make a note of their name because how ever real it feels at the time... They'll fade like everything else.
The children are the hardest.
I've outlived at least 843 of my children.
There are gaps in my notes of their names because sometimes I feel its better to forget.
But the thing is... Reading my history... Its just like reading someone else's.
It doesn't feel real.
Few things do these days.
What does?
I remember killing my 57th wife. I remember everything about it. Vividly. The pain makes it real.
Things seem more inconsequential when you live forever. Nothing matters. Your morals... Waver in time.
1500 years or so later, I still remember everything about that moment. Every minute detail.
She lives forever in my head.
I've been married to Samantha for 12 years now.
It's more than love.
She believes me when I tell her what I've seen.
I can't lose her to time.
I must remember her. I must do what it takes.
I am stood outside my house with a claw hammer in my hand.
The blood and brains of my son drips from it to the ground. I'll remember him too.
I open the door and call for Samantha.
I can smell dinner. She's made lamb and onions.
I'll remember her.
Forever. | "The Riders Tavern" the sign said. That was my go to spot nowadays. The ambience of the place was designed to provide a rustic atmosphere. Usually these new places got almost everything wrong. I don't really blame them, I mean it's not everyday that someone who's actually frequented taverns in the 1700s visits. But TRT, as the locals liked to call it, was a part of this chain of restaurants that had surfaced recently, named Henry's Favorite. Most of the restaurants in this chain were themed after some of the most popular periods of history. Initially my visits were just that, visits to relive some good memories of times vastly forgotten. But then it hit me, these restaurants usually get it all wrong.
Not the ones from Henry's Favorite.
On my 900th birthday, I realized that I was probably never going to die. I was long past my usual "hey immortality is pretty cool ok" speeches to myself every once a year or so. Now I was just miserable, and I wanted it to end. The realization that I would have to find this man who's face I didn't even mildly remember, was going to be extremely hard, dawned on me after the first few years. Initially I just decided to start at the top. 1105 AD, England. Blackmailing historians and scaring them with my usual immortality tricks did get me some leads, but they all would reach a dead end pretty fast. After 15 years or so of striking out, I was done. TRT would be where I'd sit for entire days, watching the TV getting silently drunk and secretly hoping that liver failure could break ancient blood spells. I had become close to the bartender, and I could tell he was concerned for me. He would chat with me about anything and everything, and he was the one who suggested I find a purpose in life. Easy for him to say. I was about a million purposes down, and I just couldn't bring myself to invest in something temporary again. But there was something about his earnestness that made me want to restaurant hop through Henry's Favorite.
The morning of 2020, April 2nd, that was the exact date 915 years ago that I had rescued him. He was not an ordinary prisoner. He was the one who the king specifically asked to torture, with the most vilest of punishments. That's why I felt sorry for him. As I sat there reminiscing this shit, I thought why I would go so far as to incur the wrath of a young new king, for a complete stranger. Sure the king was cruel,but...........the King.
In 1105 AD, England was ruled by Henry I. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | We had both been wanderers when we met, far from our birth lands. How I found him that day I’ll never know. Was it just random chance or the will of the gods?
He had been bound hand a foot and placed in a tide pool. The local tribe was offering him as a sacrifice to their sea deity. I climbed over the rocks just in time to loosen the ropes and set him free, before the incoming tides drowned him. Why the priests weren’t watching or no one stopped our escape I never have been able to puzzle out.
We made our way along the coast until we found a small cave where I could tend his wounds, keep him warm and share some food. To my surprise his wounds were healed the next morning, with no signs of the cuts that had been all over his body. Oddly enough, so were the few cuts I had received climbing over the rocks to reach him.
We had both managed to develop a pidgin language through our travels and were able to have some basic communication. I learned he had come from the east. His people had been nomads. He, like myself, had always been adventurous and had left his people to explore the world.
We quickly became friends and traveled together for many years afterward, each of us eager to see what was over the horizon. We hunted together, fought together, survived together. He always joked that we would die together.
After many years I had a desire to see my homeland. We argued over going, which was the first time he and I disagreed about where to go next. He kept telling me I shouldn’t. That my people wouldn’t accept me. I thought he feared I would want to stay with them.
How I wish I had listened.
We made our way to my village but he would not come closer than a day’s walk. Giving up on convincing him to go with me I made my way to the village. It was much larger than I had remembered though the totems and the central hall were still in their place.
As I looked for familiar faces I heard a woman’s scream. I turned to see a woman staring at me, weeping.
My beautiful younger sister was a woman grown, with two young girls beside her. She sobbed my name but refused to come closer. Several others had gathered around us and I began to recognize others. They were all just much older than I had remembered. And here I was, with the same young man’s face as when I had left.
I don’t like to revisit those memories. That was the last time I saw my village. Lets leave it at that.
When I retuned to our campsite I could tell he knew what had happened. He held me that night as I sobbed. We didn’t talk for days. Eventually he shared that he had gone through the same with his family too.
We spent several more years together after that but eventually parted ways. We would find each every few decade. Sometimes we would spend years together, others just a few days. We became lovers at times, others we parted with angry words. But we always came back to one another.
It’s gotten harder to hide over time. The world is so much more populated. Governments are documenting their citizens with ever more secure methods. Social media has made it much easier for people to connect.
I’ve found a few other Ancients this way. There are some tell-tale signs if you know what to look for. There aren’t very many of us. Some are centuries older than I am, others have only been in this journey for a handful of centuries. None of us like to be in the spotlight.
The one I haven’t found, though, is him. It’s been a couple hundred years this time, longer than any other separation we’ve had. My soul aches to see him again. We’ve been though so much together. He knows me better than anyone else.
I found my first gray hair recently, which is why I’ve come to you. Time is running out.
Edit: spelling, punctuation and grammar. | "The Riders Tavern" the sign said. That was my go to spot nowadays. The ambience of the place was designed to provide a rustic atmosphere. Usually these new places got almost everything wrong. I don't really blame them, I mean it's not everyday that someone who's actually frequented taverns in the 1700s visits. But TRT, as the locals liked to call it, was a part of this chain of restaurants that had surfaced recently, named Henry's Favorite. Most of the restaurants in this chain were themed after some of the most popular periods of history. Initially my visits were just that, visits to relive some good memories of times vastly forgotten. But then it hit me, these restaurants usually get it all wrong.
Not the ones from Henry's Favorite.
On my 900th birthday, I realized that I was probably never going to die. I was long past my usual "hey immortality is pretty cool ok" speeches to myself every once a year or so. Now I was just miserable, and I wanted it to end. The realization that I would have to find this man who's face I didn't even mildly remember, was going to be extremely hard, dawned on me after the first few years. Initially I just decided to start at the top. 1105 AD, England. Blackmailing historians and scaring them with my usual immortality tricks did get me some leads, but they all would reach a dead end pretty fast. After 15 years or so of striking out, I was done. TRT would be where I'd sit for entire days, watching the TV getting silently drunk and secretly hoping that liver failure could break ancient blood spells. I had become close to the bartender, and I could tell he was concerned for me. He would chat with me about anything and everything, and he was the one who suggested I find a purpose in life. Easy for him to say. I was about a million purposes down, and I just couldn't bring myself to invest in something temporary again. But there was something about his earnestness that made me want to restaurant hop through Henry's Favorite.
The morning of 2020, April 2nd, that was the exact date 915 years ago that I had rescued him. He was not an ordinary prisoner. He was the one who the king specifically asked to torture, with the most vilest of punishments. That's why I felt sorry for him. As I sat there reminiscing this shit, I thought why I would go so far as to incur the wrath of a young new king, for a complete stranger. Sure the king was cruel,but...........the King.
In 1105 AD, England was ruled by Henry I. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | "You will live for as long as I do!"
I remember speaking these words to the raggedy man with whom I had shared the prison for the last six months. Six long dark months full of only death, despair, hunger and gloom. That man had been the only one still alive of the 10 other unfortunates that had been thrown into the dungeon all those many moons ago. I had said that more to quell my despair than to truly encourage him. He was, after all a raggedy thin man, and for as long as he was alive, I fancied my chances to live and escape.
I also remember my next words very clearly, though its only later that I understood their importance.
"Aaaaghh!" I had gasped as I had cut my hand on the exposed stone. And then, unexpectedly, I had heard my own words uttered back to me. The man stood up and grabbed my hand, and then tried to go through the bars. He was nothing but bones by now, and surprisingly, passed through. Maybe, he just needed the encouragement, or maybe only now was he thin enough to do this. Next, I had tried to attempt his feat, and, much to my own surprise, I had succeeded. It was unexpected. Freedom! At last.
We still had to be quiet and sneaky to get out of the dungeon and escape the guards. We were in no shape to take on even a lone guard, a girl of 10 could have defeated us both. So we sneaked, slithered, sidled and slunk our way past the drowsy guards, past the slumbering maids, past the festooning gardens and into the sweet dark embrace of the wild. And then, without a word, we parted ways. Two trails for our captors to follow once they realised our absence, than one. Double the chance for one, half the chance for the other, with no way of knowing which fate awaited whom.
And then I heard a weird sound, a screeching wheezing sound, and then that man was never to be found. Magic, I assumed.
That was 1105 BC. Of course, I didn't know that yet. We didn't count the years like that, or even the number of days in the year. How do I know it was 1105 BC? Because I had buried someone important that year, and buried with them their favourite toys. Toys, which were auctioned last year as genuine antiques from a dead Mesoamerican civilisation. Toys, which were dated to be from that time. Their face I no longer remember, but the toys and the pain with them I had.
And yet, today, in 2019 AD, I still remember the raggedy man who had, with his blood soaked hands, made me effectively immortal. It was blood magic, I knew from later on, that had helped us escape. Magic of a kind completely unknown to us. But magic nonetheless. That magic had moulded my body and allowed me to pass through the bars. Magic that had allowed me to run for days. Magic that had allowed me to gain power, and magic again that allowed me to exact revenge on those blood thirsty vicious enemies that ruled from those high unforgiving blood drenched pyramids.
And today, of all days, I heard that same distinctive wheezing, the same screeching. He looked a lot different, but I recognized him immediately. He was still wearing the same red Fez. And now he also had a blue beaten down wooden police box. | this world is a grim place, and only the man with the cursed blood can free from it. not since our damned blood oath have i seen him.
i realized what he did to me when i stopped aging, my wife withering, before my eyes, my children, afraid, so i fled my home.
i set out for fortune, indulging in all of life’s pleasures. yet as time waned, i was forced to flee, each separate identity becoming shorter, duller.
all i seek is rest; death. my family’s faces are shades, but his smiling face burns brightly in my minds eye. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | It's not that you're ungrateful or anything like that - but you wish you could die already and meet your loved ones that's gone to the other side without you over the years.
"Has anyone seen this man?" Is the name of the post you're making online with your sketch of what you can remember of him. You write down the name of the city you helped him escape imprisonment from in its modern name too as the last place you saw him. You spiel a story that you want to catch up with this man you haven't seen in years who you had helped and made an oath with each other.
You write down with no remorse that you are dying.
The internet implodes and it has been shared over a hundred thousand times and you bet even more on other social media platforms.
Unsurprisingly, you receive false messages.
You sigh after reading once again another fake claim. You were just about to go to bed when you received a new notification - this time with the name of that city but in its old name - written the olden way and the message is written of the old language that is for all intents and purposes considered dead and your entire body is wide awake.
> Hello friend. I hear you've been looking for me.
It begins pleasantly and soon dread pools in your gut the more you read.
> I remember you still of course, I am indebted to your help all those years ago and at your kindness and generosity. I look forward to meet with you again - but I will only do this so the media will stop spreading your eerie accurate depiction of my appearance. I am rather fond of who I look like this generation and for you to ruin it by spreading it in this time... Well - that simply won't do, will it? I implore you - my friend and ally for you are of course that, to meet me tomorrow noon in the park by your local library and take a picture so they will calm down once this has been resolved.
Your hands are trembling at his signature.
> Yours always - the felon
This was a mistake.
You abruptly delete your post and send messages to all media to stop broadcasting/sharing as you've already found him and that he's a private man and you've upsetted him.
Of course, this was your new mistake. Believing the media would listen to you.
You delete all traces of your online identity and are in the process of recreating a new offline and online one when there is a knock on your door.
It is 1:19 AM - no one should be here. Yet you already know for who else would it be but the felon?
_"My ally."_ Your dead native language flows from the other man you've been looking for in a strange accent. _"Are you not?"_
He makes himself comfortable in your living room and you silently, gobsmacked as you were, watch him do so with no protest. Instead, you calmly close the door behind you and plead your case.
_"Undo the blood oath. Let me pass."_ You all but beg. _"Please."_
This man who cursed you frowns and tilts his head in confusion. _"Many others would kill to have what I've given you, do you not want to reconsider?"_
You shake your head, nerves somewhat uncoiling at the serenity of the situation. _"I wish to be gone from this life. Many others may have lasted longer but I have lived for far too long than I should have."_
He hums and smiles. _"Very well, may you find peace in nothingness."_ A knife is brandished and you feel your nerves coil tightly as he comes closer to you. _"This may hurt."_
So it did. You screamed and he lets you scream. Your dwelling is sound proof.
Blood spills and stains the cream carpet and you feel consciousness fade away from you.
_"May you rest."_ The Felon kneels next to you and fingers are combed through your hair. _"In hell."_
Your eyes snap wide open from its drooping state and your fingers feebly attempt to claw at his legs as he stands up and walks away from you.
His laughter rings in your skull as you fade away. | this world is a grim place, and only the man with the cursed blood can free from it. not since our damned blood oath have i seen him.
i realized what he did to me when i stopped aging, my wife withering, before my eyes, my children, afraid, so i fled my home.
i set out for fortune, indulging in all of life’s pleasures. yet as time waned, i was forced to flee, each separate identity becoming shorter, duller.
all i seek is rest; death. my family’s faces are shades, but his smiling face burns brightly in my minds eye. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | The midnight winds fluttered the wet leaves in the canopy above us, and the waves could be heard crashing against rock and granite.
Nine torches with different types of animal blood splattered over the base were arranged in a circular shape, and we stood at the focal point within the ritual ground.
“Here”. One of the two obsidian arrowheads was grasped in his hand, channeling immense pressure indenting his flesh.
When the stars and our ethereal souls collided, we gashed the palms of our hands and shook. The ritual was a success; to become essentially immortal, but there was one issue...
The year is 2020, a bag of makeshift IV fluid sat on a pedestal next to the rickety IKEA bed some entrepreneur dumped in a dumpster twenty-seven years past. I am homeless, unable to adapt into conventional society. No funds, no peers, no stable jobs, just a man with the AIDS virus because he decided to shake a mans fucking bloodied hand. | this world is a grim place, and only the man with the cursed blood can free from it. not since our damned blood oath have i seen him.
i realized what he did to me when i stopped aging, my wife withering, before my eyes, my children, afraid, so i fled my home.
i set out for fortune, indulging in all of life’s pleasures. yet as time waned, i was forced to flee, each separate identity becoming shorter, duller.
all i seek is rest; death. my family’s faces are shades, but his smiling face burns brightly in my minds eye. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | A nice, warm, august morning. Birds where singing and you could hear some slow music, but vaguely.
" God dang it, i forgot to close the fuc*ing window again" I spoke angrily to myself.
"Alexa, close the Windows, draw the curtains and turn on the AC on, uh..uh.. 70 degrees"
I always forget that I have to use the imperial system and not normal units. Gosh, I hate America. I hate the people, I hate the lifestyle.. egh, I guess I just hate everything.
I raise up from the bed with sorrow. I woke up again. AGAIN. It's hopeless, but I still wish to die in my sleep, peacefully. Who am I trying to fool? I just want to die. I lost everything I had dear.
Family, friends, love and...and.. my dog.
For so long I've tried to fill up the hollow in my life, but I failed miserably. Nothing can replace them.
Everyday I blame myself more. For making that pact? No, I can't. I blame myself for not aging with her, for not being there for her while she aged. Why in the wold did I think that leaving was a good ideea? She thought I got killed and she found someone else. But that was for the best. I couldn't bear to watch her age and get all wrinkly with her hair going white.. and our kid growing up and...and aging as well. Everything that I get to love, dies. Even the trees I planted.
I outlive everything. I can't have anything with me, that would last as long as I do. A tear starts rolling down my face. As I drink my coffee, I pick up my laptop and open up tor. I kept browsing the dark web for antiquities for a long time. I started this hidden, underworld online market only for this purpose. But it degenerated into a horrible place where sick people gather.
It's good.
This reminds me why I do what I started a long time ago.
My phone starts ringing.
" Yea, Trump will be the president. He should stir up thing with Korea just enough so I can start the nuclear war once they threaten us"
Humanity needs a reboot.
Humanity needs a new beginning.
Humanity it's evil. Humans need a miracle, but they will only get an apocalypse and I am the one that will bring it. | this world is a grim place, and only the man with the cursed blood can free from it. not since our damned blood oath have i seen him.
i realized what he did to me when i stopped aging, my wife withering, before my eyes, my children, afraid, so i fled my home.
i set out for fortune, indulging in all of life’s pleasures. yet as time waned, i was forced to flee, each separate identity becoming shorter, duller.
all i seek is rest; death. my family’s faces are shades, but his smiling face burns brightly in my minds eye. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | You may not know this, but your memory is finite.
This is fine for your average man. 80-100 years of memories and then you die before anything bad happens. Hopefully anyway.
Not me though. No.
I've been alive for 3000 years. I ran out of room a long time ago.
I know a few things. After a while... I'm not sure how long... I noticed I couldn't remember things. Important things.
So I made a list.
I've been married at least 145 times.
I know the names of 33 of those people.
It's hard. You make a note of their name because how ever real it feels at the time... They'll fade like everything else.
The children are the hardest.
I've outlived at least 843 of my children.
There are gaps in my notes of their names because sometimes I feel its better to forget.
But the thing is... Reading my history... Its just like reading someone else's.
It doesn't feel real.
Few things do these days.
What does?
I remember killing my 57th wife. I remember everything about it. Vividly. The pain makes it real.
Things seem more inconsequential when you live forever. Nothing matters. Your morals... Waver in time.
1500 years or so later, I still remember everything about that moment. Every minute detail.
She lives forever in my head.
I've been married to Samantha for 12 years now.
It's more than love.
She believes me when I tell her what I've seen.
I can't lose her to time.
I must remember her. I must do what it takes.
I am stood outside my house with a claw hammer in my hand.
The blood and brains of my son drips from it to the ground. I'll remember him too.
I open the door and call for Samantha.
I can smell dinner. She's made lamb and onions.
I'll remember her.
Forever. | this world is a grim place, and only the man with the cursed blood can free from it. not since our damned blood oath have i seen him.
i realized what he did to me when i stopped aging, my wife withering, before my eyes, my children, afraid, so i fled my home.
i set out for fortune, indulging in all of life’s pleasures. yet as time waned, i was forced to flee, each separate identity becoming shorter, duller.
all i seek is rest; death. my family’s faces are shades, but his smiling face burns brightly in my minds eye. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | "Shake my hand."
Those were the last words I heard him speak. The escape operation had been incredibly difficult. There were enough guards to fill a soccer stadium surrounding this prison for one person. The person I had just killed each and every last guard to free. He had told me to make a blood oath, and become blood brothers. And I did so, to my demise. That was BC 1105. The year now is 2020. I have seen the rise and fall of many empires, the birth and death of the supposed Jesus Christ, although I never believed it. I saw both world wars, and the cold war, fought in both of them too. I became a legend among the ranks, but also a secret to the generals and lieutenants. In order to protect my identity, where in the battle of Mons my absolute, supposedly suicidal rampage caused the enemy troops to flee in sheer terror, the troops, my friends, told the authorities that angels and flown down and scared off the Nazis. The excuse still made me giggle slightly to this day.
I guess I'm crazy, but living for 3000 years does that to people. I hadn't aged a day since I had rescued him from that torture house the Chinese had called a prison. I didn't even know my own name anymore, or at least my original name. 3000 years gives you a lot of time to learn things, and it also unlocks areas of the brain that would remain dormant for a normal human's entire life. I could forge to an exact degree (with both metals and identities) meaning that I have had an inordinate amount of names. The one I had at the moment was Will.
I had been looking for the man for about 2500 years. At first the immortality was fun, and I showed off to everyone. But after watching everyone I loved die before my eyes, it became less so. I tried making blood pacts with others to try and give them my immortality, but to no avail. I realised that I could not make a single friend for the rest of my life. This was depressing,. but eventually I numbed myself to it, and to every other type of pain too. You could shoot me in the head, but I wouldn't die. I was put to the guillotine in France for being a witch after they found out about my invincibility, but my head just grow straight back.
But I kept on searching and searching. I would never find him, though, I knew, because he was dead. I found out yesterday. I saw his grave. I bore the name "Graman Shore".
I'm so tired...
I might just go for a snooze...
​
And he felt no more. | this world is a grim place, and only the man with the cursed blood can free from it. not since our damned blood oath have i seen him.
i realized what he did to me when i stopped aging, my wife withering, before my eyes, my children, afraid, so i fled my home.
i set out for fortune, indulging in all of life’s pleasures. yet as time waned, i was forced to flee, each separate identity becoming shorter, duller.
all i seek is rest; death. my family’s faces are shades, but his smiling face burns brightly in my minds eye. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | We had both been wanderers when we met, far from our birth lands. How I found him that day I’ll never know. Was it just random chance or the will of the gods?
He had been bound hand a foot and placed in a tide pool. The local tribe was offering him as a sacrifice to their sea deity. I climbed over the rocks just in time to loosen the ropes and set him free, before the incoming tides drowned him. Why the priests weren’t watching or no one stopped our escape I never have been able to puzzle out.
We made our way along the coast until we found a small cave where I could tend his wounds, keep him warm and share some food. To my surprise his wounds were healed the next morning, with no signs of the cuts that had been all over his body. Oddly enough, so were the few cuts I had received climbing over the rocks to reach him.
We had both managed to develop a pidgin language through our travels and were able to have some basic communication. I learned he had come from the east. His people had been nomads. He, like myself, had always been adventurous and had left his people to explore the world.
We quickly became friends and traveled together for many years afterward, each of us eager to see what was over the horizon. We hunted together, fought together, survived together. He always joked that we would die together.
After many years I had a desire to see my homeland. We argued over going, which was the first time he and I disagreed about where to go next. He kept telling me I shouldn’t. That my people wouldn’t accept me. I thought he feared I would want to stay with them.
How I wish I had listened.
We made our way to my village but he would not come closer than a day’s walk. Giving up on convincing him to go with me I made my way to the village. It was much larger than I had remembered though the totems and the central hall were still in their place.
As I looked for familiar faces I heard a woman’s scream. I turned to see a woman staring at me, weeping.
My beautiful younger sister was a woman grown, with two young girls beside her. She sobbed my name but refused to come closer. Several others had gathered around us and I began to recognize others. They were all just much older than I had remembered. And here I was, with the same young man’s face as when I had left.
I don’t like to revisit those memories. That was the last time I saw my village. Lets leave it at that.
When I retuned to our campsite I could tell he knew what had happened. He held me that night as I sobbed. We didn’t talk for days. Eventually he shared that he had gone through the same with his family too.
We spent several more years together after that but eventually parted ways. We would find each every few decade. Sometimes we would spend years together, others just a few days. We became lovers at times, others we parted with angry words. But we always came back to one another.
It’s gotten harder to hide over time. The world is so much more populated. Governments are documenting their citizens with ever more secure methods. Social media has made it much easier for people to connect.
I’ve found a few other Ancients this way. There are some tell-tale signs if you know what to look for. There aren’t very many of us. Some are centuries older than I am, others have only been in this journey for a handful of centuries. None of us like to be in the spotlight.
The one I haven’t found, though, is him. It’s been a couple hundred years this time, longer than any other separation we’ve had. My soul aches to see him again. We’ve been though so much together. He knows me better than anyone else.
I found my first gray hair recently, which is why I’ve come to you. Time is running out.
Edit: spelling, punctuation and grammar. | this world is a grim place, and only the man with the cursed blood can free from it. not since our damned blood oath have i seen him.
i realized what he did to me when i stopped aging, my wife withering, before my eyes, my children, afraid, so i fled my home.
i set out for fortune, indulging in all of life’s pleasures. yet as time waned, i was forced to flee, each separate identity becoming shorter, duller.
all i seek is rest; death. my family’s faces are shades, but his smiling face burns brightly in my minds eye. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | Nonus was a cruel man; a jailer. Renowned throughout Gaul and Germania for his participation in the slave trade. Someone you’ve beaten into submission for years and years will never say no to your every whim and need.
I was ten years old when he bought me.
I was thirteen when I caught his eye for the first time. I guess he’d thought I was exotic looking. At fifteen I’d started bleeding, and he made me his wife. When I was his slave, I thought I’d known the full extent of his cruelty. As his wife, I learned that it had unending depths. I learned to tie my chiton in such a way that it hid the purple splotches on my collarbones, to sit in such a way that bruises on my thighs were invisible to the populace.
I forget what day it was when I first noticed the prisoner, but it was evening. The shadow stretched long and languid over the face of the sundial. Ides, maybe. Summer, for sure. It’s been a long time, but I remember the moment exactly.
His eyes caught mine, and I was shocked to see the reflection of aquamarine. The same I had observed in looking glasses, in puddles. The same as mine. Raven black hair hung stringy around his shoulders, and his torso was covered in welts. I winced from the courtyard as my husband threw him into the pit and I heard one of his arms snap.
\*\*\*
I’d finished my duties for the day, let my husband take his frustration out on my body, then fed him. He was remarkably ungrateful. I suppose I would be too, if I’d incurred the social risk of a former slave as a wife only to find out she was barren. I suppose I would be too, if I was too stupid or too naïve to know about poison or divorce. Or maybe he liked having a ragdoll, a punching bag. Would a Roman citizen of noble birth with a well-connected father allow such things to happen to her? No; that is why I was Nonus’ wife, I guess.
It was also my duty to go make sure all the cells were locked, to give bread and water to the men in the carts.
I thought of the man with the eyes like mine, and folded up rice into grape leaves, hiding them in my belt, my veil.
\*\*\*
“*Why do you let him hurt you, sister?*”
I haven’t heard that language since my father said goodbye to me. Tears well in my eyes and I find that I must consciously search to string the words together, to use the grammar that is familiar yet now unfamiliar. I turn, and find the voice is coming from the pit. The stranger, the man with my eyes.
“*There is no choice. I was sold. I must obey.*” I reply. It feels like I am speaking a language from a different life. I lower my veil around my neck, taking the grape leaves and adding them to the normal ration of bread and water. “*Eat. Tomorrow I will see if I can get milk.*”
\*\*\*
Mercifully, Nonus was always a heavy sleeper. A legion could march by, belligerent and with swords and shields clanging, and he would remain unmoving. A stone, a corpse. I’d talked to the prisoner for a fortnight. He told me about my homeland, how green the rolling hills were, how there were lakes nestled between mountains. How the near constant rain nourished the plants and animals. I listened to him speak my mother tongue and cried while my bruises throbbed.
Nonus never kept prisoners for more than a fortnight.
Naturally, I'd stolen the key.
“*Thank you, sister. I know not how to get home, but I will find my way. We shall make a blood oath. You will find me again, and we can talk once more, for as long as we shall live. Forever connected.*”
He took my hand and before I could withdraw it, I felt his sharp fingernail draw across my palm. The cut burnt and I felt sticky warmth trickle from my hand. When I looked up, he was gone.
\*\*\*
Nonus beat me and left me for dead in the forest when he found out the prisoner was gone. My bones cracked, my skull half-shattered, one blue eye bulging out of the socket. It felt as if all my innards had ruptured. I remember looking at my leg, and seeing the yellow, sharp spear of what had been my femur sticking out of my thigh, bent at an unnatural angle.
This was the first time I wished for death.
My body knitted itself together over three days. It hurt almost as bad as when Nonus had broken my bones and my spirit in the first place. Animals were no longer drawn to the scent of my blood; a wolf had whimpered and scampered away when my femur shifted and I shrieked, when it withdrew back into my skin and made hard contact with the remaining fragments.
When I got up, covered in dried blood, my own vomit, piss, feces, I was a woman reborn.
\*\*\*
I cannot count all the times I should have let death take me. I cannot count all the times I have tried to end my life myself. I learned that Nonus was not the only cruel man in the world. And that men and women are crueler than gods, or devils, or anything we could think up to justify our behavior.
The only times I didn’t really mind were the times I just got sick, or the freak accidents. The plague of Justinian sucked, and so did the Black Death. Both painful and annoying. Each day I had to rest was one day less that I was journeying, that I was looking for him. I wanted to hear more stories. I wanted to give him stuffed grape leaves again.
I can tell you that most of what they say about Countess Bathory is true; servants put me on the corpse pile after the woman drained my blood over a big porcelain ewer. Not the most painful, but the messiest.
The Inquisition was terrible. I was broken on the Catherine wheel a few times. The breast ripper is probably the most painful, but the pear of anguish is a close second.
I was burnt in Würzburg, and hanged in Salem.
I felt like an idiot when it occurred to me to remember what he’d said about our homeland. Green. Rainy. I hid on a trading galleon heading from the colonies to Great Britain. I hoped finding a ship to Ireland would be just as easy.
I ‘died’ a few times during the famine, and then again during the Troubles. Not the worst ones either. Getting shot is the easiest if the killer has good aim.
Last year I decided to go to a local ceili, to get out of the house, if anything. I recognized him immediately, the raven black hair that I'd seen so long ago, that had reminded me of something. It took almost three thousand years to remember. He had my father's hair. The fiddler looked up at me with bright, aqua eyes as I opened the door, taking off my hood and exposing bright copper curls.
“*Deartháir*.“ | this world is a grim place, and only the man with the cursed blood can free from it. not since our damned blood oath have i seen him.
i realized what he did to me when i stopped aging, my wife withering, before my eyes, my children, afraid, so i fled my home.
i set out for fortune, indulging in all of life’s pleasures. yet as time waned, i was forced to flee, each separate identity becoming shorter, duller.
all i seek is rest; death. my family’s faces are shades, but his smiling face burns brightly in my minds eye. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | It's been a ridiculous amount of time already, and I've had enough.
I've been searching for this man. A unique man, I may add.
He's not your typical dude. You want to know why? Because he isn't from this time period. In fact, I didn't meet him at the turn of the 20th Century; I met him during an older date.
You know, like 11th Century BC old.
Yes. I met him even before Christ was born. I met him even before the crusades became a thing, or before the Eiffel Tower was Built. I met him at Egypt, or wherever ancient Egypt was and helped him escape the Pharaoh's imprisonment.
It seems like he was some kind of wizard or magician of some sort, since he kept on muttering some sort of magic words. He looked a bit deranged to. For some reason he kept on... Smiling. And then he kept on asking what my name is, and thanking me.
I forgot the details, but I remember him having long hair... and weird glassy eyes with some kind of bracelet that he had to wear to sustain his magicka. When we escaped the prison cell, he asked me for my hand, and asked if we could make a blood oath for some sort of... partnership of some kind. I dunno, I wasn't really into it because it was freaking above 40 degrees in the middle of a desert prison and I just wanted to run.
He told me before he left that he was going to search for a place to stay... And that our "promise" will ring true until he dies.
Well, I didn't mind. I just wanted a cold, bowl of fresh river water.
But that was almost 3,000 years ago. And it's damn time I get an answer as to why I've lived so long.
For years I've been searching. Ever since I looked at the mirror on the death of my older did I realize that I wasn't going to age any different than I was back then. I quickly linked the connection between that weird dude who made a blood pact with me, and immediately set off finding for him at our local town.
But it's now 2020. The richest man in the world, and also the longest living being known to man. And yet somehow, I can't find this man.
My phone rings. It's a call from the chopper; he's ready to go and is waiting at the tower.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was a long, 15 hour flight to Egypt. But after that, I was home at last.
I visited the site where I was born; bits and pieces are the only things that remain, but because of my restoration project, they're kept safe, and so is the rural neighborhood around it.
The skies are still the same, and the sun still scorches the earth once every two days. The people around here are all different, but some are descendants of my old neighbors.
"Sir?" A guy asks me.
"Yeah. What's up?"
"You must be Anty. Or, short for Antukhamen, right?"
This kid knows his stuff.
"Pleasure to be of service. What can I do for ya?"
Quickly, his face turns into great adoration.
"I'm a direct descendant of your neighbor! Umm, I think it was..."
"Rakant-khala?" I answered.
"Yes! Yes! He has a drawing of you and the prisoner girl you took!"
"Prisoner... Girl?"
It was at this moment that I recalled seeing him pale and skinny. I assumed he dressed like a wizard because he had this weird long skirt on him, a very odd thing for a villager or royalty but not for magicka users. I remembered long hair and glassy eyes, But I couldn't recall if she had hands that of a woman.
"Yes!" The kid shouted. "In fact, there was this weird lady dressed in red just outside the prison! I bet she's a direct descendant of the girl, like me!"
"Say what, kid?" I asked.
He quickly pointed me to the direction of this mysterious girl. As I walked towards the prison hole, I suddenly remembered my past life; the times when I suffered so much because I had to see my loved ones die. I suffered so much when my brother, who was too young compared to me, died as an old man in front of me, whilst I stood there unchanged through time.
I felt anxious. I felt closure. I felt like this was it.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A slender figure stood atop the hole where we once escaped. She had long hair, and aged almost the same as I. Her body, compared to the prisoner, was well-fed, and had been in good care.
As I approached, she turned to look. And, bright as the daylight, there she was.
The man I looked for my whole life, turned out to be a woman.
Her eyes of glass, started to tear up. As I crept even closer, she began to show tears and, in a blink, sprinted towards me, hugging me as hard as she could.
"You're back! You're back! I knew you wouldn't forget about me!", she shouted.
"I... uh... what?"
"You made a bond with me, in life and in death. You gave your blood for mine, and I promised to give my blood to yours. We are bound together, in body and soul. You are my soulmate, Anty," she said.
"Wait when did I say this?"
She looked at me in confusion.
"When you made a pact with me... You said you promised..."
The sky started turning dark. Clouds began to form. Suddenly, the wind felt chilly.
"What the hell is happening?" I asked her.
"You... did you lie to me, like everybody else?" She asked me.
Her expression was of anger, of disgust and pain. I knew she wanted to kill me, but I didn't want to die.
"Why the hell would I lie to you? I wanted to save you!" I replied.
Her face started to calm, and suddenly the raging storm of a face she had became this puppy-eyed, tear-filled look that made me feel like she was asking for something.
"So... you love me?" She asked.
​
With no other answer in mind, I said the only thing that could have saved me.
"Well... I guess so?" | this world is a grim place, and only the man with the cursed blood can free from it. not since our damned blood oath have i seen him.
i realized what he did to me when i stopped aging, my wife withering, before my eyes, my children, afraid, so i fled my home.
i set out for fortune, indulging in all of life’s pleasures. yet as time waned, i was forced to flee, each separate identity becoming shorter, duller.
all i seek is rest; death. my family’s faces are shades, but his smiling face burns brightly in my minds eye. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | *The bronze dagger cut at the palm, the skin peeling away easily. A line of red. Somewhere in the tent a torched flickered, caught by a strong gust of wind. Canvas flailed against itself in the torrent outside.*
*“Take my hand, brother.”*
*Darius reached out his hand….*
“No!” he awoke in a sweat, tangled in bedsheets. A thin strand of moonlight trickled through the heavy hotel curtains. The weak light gave a dull shine to the room, bringing Darius back to his senses. The dreams had been growing stronger, which could only mean Alec was close. The TV was still on, and Darius quickly flicked it off, cutting short the car crash news report.
Jumping from the bed, he quickly dressed and downed a glass of water. Exiting the hotel room, he walked down the empty corridors.
A broken light flickered.
*A torch in a leather tent.*
Darius squeezed shut his eyes and rubbed at his temples, as if to force the imagery from his head.
*Take my hand, brother...*
“Get out of my head,” Darius growled. He stumbled, fell onto the hard floor. Pain flashed through his hand and he held it up to the light. The scar there burned in dull red.
Pushing himself to his feet, he climbed cautiously down the stairs, holding the banner as if it was the only thing that connected him to life. He could feel himself grow weaker and he tripped once again, he felt the floor roll from under his feet and then he was falling. His shoulder connected with the bottom stair and he groaned. He could feel blood pooling on his head, it dripped into his eyes.
*A thin red line on the palm of a hand.*
“No.” He flailed weakly.
Somewhere in the background he heard panicked voices. They seemed to be getting louder. They were the last things he heard before he blacked out.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
“Good evening, Darius.”
He opened his eyes to see a brown haired nurse standing above him. She smiled. “How are you feeling?”
He groaned, forcing himself up in the hospital bed. “What happened?”
“You had a little accident. Fractured skull, dislocated shoulder. It’s amazing you’re even conscious.”
Darius lifted the corners of his lips. “I heal fast.”
The nurse laughed. “You’re not the only one!”
“What do you mean?”
“We had a friend of yours in. Alec?”
Darius froze, visions came flying back to him, tumbling through his mind as if his entire life had been photographed and then tipped off the edge of a cliff. The memories fell over one another, blurring into each other. He felt the madness at the edges of his consciousness. Too many memories. Too many.
“Craziest thing. He had the same injuries as you! Car crash though, not just a clumsy fall. He looked in serious trouble when he came in, a few hours later and there he went, strolling out the doors good as new.”
Darius shook his head, forced himself to focus.
“How…how did you know he was my friend?”
“He left something for you! Told me to give it to you as soon as you woke.” She passed him a brown box. It felt warm to the touch as Darius held it close. He could feel the scar in his hand begin to pulsate.
“I’ll be back soon with a doctor, Mr Darius. I’m glad to see you’re feeling well.”
With that the nurse slid open the hospital curtain and disappeared from view.
Darius held the box in front of his eyes. Slowly, carefully, he began to lift the lid.
It caught in the fluorescent lights of the ward. A thousand years old and yet not a scratch on it. It was plain to look at, but Darius’ eyes widened in wonder and fear. Beneath the bronze dagger was a note. With shaking hands, Darius reached for it. The handwriting was large and scrawling.
*Not yet, brother. Not yet.* | this world is a grim place, and only the man with the cursed blood can free from it. not since our damned blood oath have i seen him.
i realized what he did to me when i stopped aging, my wife withering, before my eyes, my children, afraid, so i fled my home.
i set out for fortune, indulging in all of life’s pleasures. yet as time waned, i was forced to flee, each separate identity becoming shorter, duller.
all i seek is rest; death. my family’s faces are shades, but his smiling face burns brightly in my minds eye. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | You may not know this, but your memory is finite.
This is fine for your average man. 80-100 years of memories and then you die before anything bad happens. Hopefully anyway.
Not me though. No.
I've been alive for 3000 years. I ran out of room a long time ago.
I know a few things. After a while... I'm not sure how long... I noticed I couldn't remember things. Important things.
So I made a list.
I've been married at least 145 times.
I know the names of 33 of those people.
It's hard. You make a note of their name because how ever real it feels at the time... They'll fade like everything else.
The children are the hardest.
I've outlived at least 843 of my children.
There are gaps in my notes of their names because sometimes I feel its better to forget.
But the thing is... Reading my history... Its just like reading someone else's.
It doesn't feel real.
Few things do these days.
What does?
I remember killing my 57th wife. I remember everything about it. Vividly. The pain makes it real.
Things seem more inconsequential when you live forever. Nothing matters. Your morals... Waver in time.
1500 years or so later, I still remember everything about that moment. Every minute detail.
She lives forever in my head.
I've been married to Samantha for 12 years now.
It's more than love.
She believes me when I tell her what I've seen.
I can't lose her to time.
I must remember her. I must do what it takes.
I am stood outside my house with a claw hammer in my hand.
The blood and brains of my son drips from it to the ground. I'll remember him too.
I open the door and call for Samantha.
I can smell dinner. She's made lamb and onions.
I'll remember her.
Forever. | "You will live for as long as I do!"
I remember speaking these words to the raggedy man with whom I had shared the prison for the last six months. Six long dark months full of only death, despair, hunger and gloom. That man had been the only one still alive of the 10 other unfortunates that had been thrown into the dungeon all those many moons ago. I had said that more to quell my despair than to truly encourage him. He was, after all a raggedy thin man, and for as long as he was alive, I fancied my chances to live and escape.
I also remember my next words very clearly, though its only later that I understood their importance.
"Aaaaghh!" I had gasped as I had cut my hand on the exposed stone. And then, unexpectedly, I had heard my own words uttered back to me. The man stood up and grabbed my hand, and then tried to go through the bars. He was nothing but bones by now, and surprisingly, passed through. Maybe, he just needed the encouragement, or maybe only now was he thin enough to do this. Next, I had tried to attempt his feat, and, much to my own surprise, I had succeeded. It was unexpected. Freedom! At last.
We still had to be quiet and sneaky to get out of the dungeon and escape the guards. We were in no shape to take on even a lone guard, a girl of 10 could have defeated us both. So we sneaked, slithered, sidled and slunk our way past the drowsy guards, past the slumbering maids, past the festooning gardens and into the sweet dark embrace of the wild. And then, without a word, we parted ways. Two trails for our captors to follow once they realised our absence, than one. Double the chance for one, half the chance for the other, with no way of knowing which fate awaited whom.
And then I heard a weird sound, a screeching wheezing sound, and then that man was never to be found. Magic, I assumed.
That was 1105 BC. Of course, I didn't know that yet. We didn't count the years like that, or even the number of days in the year. How do I know it was 1105 BC? Because I had buried someone important that year, and buried with them their favourite toys. Toys, which were auctioned last year as genuine antiques from a dead Mesoamerican civilisation. Toys, which were dated to be from that time. Their face I no longer remember, but the toys and the pain with them I had.
And yet, today, in 2019 AD, I still remember the raggedy man who had, with his blood soaked hands, made me effectively immortal. It was blood magic, I knew from later on, that had helped us escape. Magic of a kind completely unknown to us. But magic nonetheless. That magic had moulded my body and allowed me to pass through the bars. Magic that had allowed me to run for days. Magic that had allowed me to gain power, and magic again that allowed me to exact revenge on those blood thirsty vicious enemies that ruled from those high unforgiving blood drenched pyramids.
And today, of all days, I heard that same distinctive wheezing, the same screeching. He looked a lot different, but I recognized him immediately. He was still wearing the same red Fez. And now he also had a blue beaten down wooden police box. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | We had both been wanderers when we met, far from our birth lands. How I found him that day I’ll never know. Was it just random chance or the will of the gods?
He had been bound hand a foot and placed in a tide pool. The local tribe was offering him as a sacrifice to their sea deity. I climbed over the rocks just in time to loosen the ropes and set him free, before the incoming tides drowned him. Why the priests weren’t watching or no one stopped our escape I never have been able to puzzle out.
We made our way along the coast until we found a small cave where I could tend his wounds, keep him warm and share some food. To my surprise his wounds were healed the next morning, with no signs of the cuts that had been all over his body. Oddly enough, so were the few cuts I had received climbing over the rocks to reach him.
We had both managed to develop a pidgin language through our travels and were able to have some basic communication. I learned he had come from the east. His people had been nomads. He, like myself, had always been adventurous and had left his people to explore the world.
We quickly became friends and traveled together for many years afterward, each of us eager to see what was over the horizon. We hunted together, fought together, survived together. He always joked that we would die together.
After many years I had a desire to see my homeland. We argued over going, which was the first time he and I disagreed about where to go next. He kept telling me I shouldn’t. That my people wouldn’t accept me. I thought he feared I would want to stay with them.
How I wish I had listened.
We made our way to my village but he would not come closer than a day’s walk. Giving up on convincing him to go with me I made my way to the village. It was much larger than I had remembered though the totems and the central hall were still in their place.
As I looked for familiar faces I heard a woman’s scream. I turned to see a woman staring at me, weeping.
My beautiful younger sister was a woman grown, with two young girls beside her. She sobbed my name but refused to come closer. Several others had gathered around us and I began to recognize others. They were all just much older than I had remembered. And here I was, with the same young man’s face as when I had left.
I don’t like to revisit those memories. That was the last time I saw my village. Lets leave it at that.
When I retuned to our campsite I could tell he knew what had happened. He held me that night as I sobbed. We didn’t talk for days. Eventually he shared that he had gone through the same with his family too.
We spent several more years together after that but eventually parted ways. We would find each every few decade. Sometimes we would spend years together, others just a few days. We became lovers at times, others we parted with angry words. But we always came back to one another.
It’s gotten harder to hide over time. The world is so much more populated. Governments are documenting their citizens with ever more secure methods. Social media has made it much easier for people to connect.
I’ve found a few other Ancients this way. There are some tell-tale signs if you know what to look for. There aren’t very many of us. Some are centuries older than I am, others have only been in this journey for a handful of centuries. None of us like to be in the spotlight.
The one I haven’t found, though, is him. It’s been a couple hundred years this time, longer than any other separation we’ve had. My soul aches to see him again. We’ve been though so much together. He knows me better than anyone else.
I found my first gray hair recently, which is why I’ve come to you. Time is running out.
Edit: spelling, punctuation and grammar. | "You will live for as long as I do!"
I remember speaking these words to the raggedy man with whom I had shared the prison for the last six months. Six long dark months full of only death, despair, hunger and gloom. That man had been the only one still alive of the 10 other unfortunates that had been thrown into the dungeon all those many moons ago. I had said that more to quell my despair than to truly encourage him. He was, after all a raggedy thin man, and for as long as he was alive, I fancied my chances to live and escape.
I also remember my next words very clearly, though its only later that I understood their importance.
"Aaaaghh!" I had gasped as I had cut my hand on the exposed stone. And then, unexpectedly, I had heard my own words uttered back to me. The man stood up and grabbed my hand, and then tried to go through the bars. He was nothing but bones by now, and surprisingly, passed through. Maybe, he just needed the encouragement, or maybe only now was he thin enough to do this. Next, I had tried to attempt his feat, and, much to my own surprise, I had succeeded. It was unexpected. Freedom! At last.
We still had to be quiet and sneaky to get out of the dungeon and escape the guards. We were in no shape to take on even a lone guard, a girl of 10 could have defeated us both. So we sneaked, slithered, sidled and slunk our way past the drowsy guards, past the slumbering maids, past the festooning gardens and into the sweet dark embrace of the wild. And then, without a word, we parted ways. Two trails for our captors to follow once they realised our absence, than one. Double the chance for one, half the chance for the other, with no way of knowing which fate awaited whom.
And then I heard a weird sound, a screeching wheezing sound, and then that man was never to be found. Magic, I assumed.
That was 1105 BC. Of course, I didn't know that yet. We didn't count the years like that, or even the number of days in the year. How do I know it was 1105 BC? Because I had buried someone important that year, and buried with them their favourite toys. Toys, which were auctioned last year as genuine antiques from a dead Mesoamerican civilisation. Toys, which were dated to be from that time. Their face I no longer remember, but the toys and the pain with them I had.
And yet, today, in 2019 AD, I still remember the raggedy man who had, with his blood soaked hands, made me effectively immortal. It was blood magic, I knew from later on, that had helped us escape. Magic of a kind completely unknown to us. But magic nonetheless. That magic had moulded my body and allowed me to pass through the bars. Magic that had allowed me to run for days. Magic that had allowed me to gain power, and magic again that allowed me to exact revenge on those blood thirsty vicious enemies that ruled from those high unforgiving blood drenched pyramids.
And today, of all days, I heard that same distinctive wheezing, the same screeching. He looked a lot different, but I recognized him immediately. He was still wearing the same red Fez. And now he also had a blue beaten down wooden police box. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | You may not know this, but your memory is finite.
This is fine for your average man. 80-100 years of memories and then you die before anything bad happens. Hopefully anyway.
Not me though. No.
I've been alive for 3000 years. I ran out of room a long time ago.
I know a few things. After a while... I'm not sure how long... I noticed I couldn't remember things. Important things.
So I made a list.
I've been married at least 145 times.
I know the names of 33 of those people.
It's hard. You make a note of their name because how ever real it feels at the time... They'll fade like everything else.
The children are the hardest.
I've outlived at least 843 of my children.
There are gaps in my notes of their names because sometimes I feel its better to forget.
But the thing is... Reading my history... Its just like reading someone else's.
It doesn't feel real.
Few things do these days.
What does?
I remember killing my 57th wife. I remember everything about it. Vividly. The pain makes it real.
Things seem more inconsequential when you live forever. Nothing matters. Your morals... Waver in time.
1500 years or so later, I still remember everything about that moment. Every minute detail.
She lives forever in my head.
I've been married to Samantha for 12 years now.
It's more than love.
She believes me when I tell her what I've seen.
I can't lose her to time.
I must remember her. I must do what it takes.
I am stood outside my house with a claw hammer in my hand.
The blood and brains of my son drips from it to the ground. I'll remember him too.
I open the door and call for Samantha.
I can smell dinner. She's made lamb and onions.
I'll remember her.
Forever. | It's not that you're ungrateful or anything like that - but you wish you could die already and meet your loved ones that's gone to the other side without you over the years.
"Has anyone seen this man?" Is the name of the post you're making online with your sketch of what you can remember of him. You write down the name of the city you helped him escape imprisonment from in its modern name too as the last place you saw him. You spiel a story that you want to catch up with this man you haven't seen in years who you had helped and made an oath with each other.
You write down with no remorse that you are dying.
The internet implodes and it has been shared over a hundred thousand times and you bet even more on other social media platforms.
Unsurprisingly, you receive false messages.
You sigh after reading once again another fake claim. You were just about to go to bed when you received a new notification - this time with the name of that city but in its old name - written the olden way and the message is written of the old language that is for all intents and purposes considered dead and your entire body is wide awake.
> Hello friend. I hear you've been looking for me.
It begins pleasantly and soon dread pools in your gut the more you read.
> I remember you still of course, I am indebted to your help all those years ago and at your kindness and generosity. I look forward to meet with you again - but I will only do this so the media will stop spreading your eerie accurate depiction of my appearance. I am rather fond of who I look like this generation and for you to ruin it by spreading it in this time... Well - that simply won't do, will it? I implore you - my friend and ally for you are of course that, to meet me tomorrow noon in the park by your local library and take a picture so they will calm down once this has been resolved.
Your hands are trembling at his signature.
> Yours always - the felon
This was a mistake.
You abruptly delete your post and send messages to all media to stop broadcasting/sharing as you've already found him and that he's a private man and you've upsetted him.
Of course, this was your new mistake. Believing the media would listen to you.
You delete all traces of your online identity and are in the process of recreating a new offline and online one when there is a knock on your door.
It is 1:19 AM - no one should be here. Yet you already know for who else would it be but the felon?
_"My ally."_ Your dead native language flows from the other man you've been looking for in a strange accent. _"Are you not?"_
He makes himself comfortable in your living room and you silently, gobsmacked as you were, watch him do so with no protest. Instead, you calmly close the door behind you and plead your case.
_"Undo the blood oath. Let me pass."_ You all but beg. _"Please."_
This man who cursed you frowns and tilts his head in confusion. _"Many others would kill to have what I've given you, do you not want to reconsider?"_
You shake your head, nerves somewhat uncoiling at the serenity of the situation. _"I wish to be gone from this life. Many others may have lasted longer but I have lived for far too long than I should have."_
He hums and smiles. _"Very well, may you find peace in nothingness."_ A knife is brandished and you feel your nerves coil tightly as he comes closer to you. _"This may hurt."_
So it did. You screamed and he lets you scream. Your dwelling is sound proof.
Blood spills and stains the cream carpet and you feel consciousness fade away from you.
_"May you rest."_ The Felon kneels next to you and fingers are combed through your hair. _"In hell."_
Your eyes snap wide open from its drooping state and your fingers feebly attempt to claw at his legs as he stands up and walks away from you.
His laughter rings in your skull as you fade away. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | "Shake my hand."
Those were the last words I heard him speak. The escape operation had been incredibly difficult. There were enough guards to fill a soccer stadium surrounding this prison for one person. The person I had just killed each and every last guard to free. He had told me to make a blood oath, and become blood brothers. And I did so, to my demise. That was BC 1105. The year now is 2020. I have seen the rise and fall of many empires, the birth and death of the supposed Jesus Christ, although I never believed it. I saw both world wars, and the cold war, fought in both of them too. I became a legend among the ranks, but also a secret to the generals and lieutenants. In order to protect my identity, where in the battle of Mons my absolute, supposedly suicidal rampage caused the enemy troops to flee in sheer terror, the troops, my friends, told the authorities that angels and flown down and scared off the Nazis. The excuse still made me giggle slightly to this day.
I guess I'm crazy, but living for 3000 years does that to people. I hadn't aged a day since I had rescued him from that torture house the Chinese had called a prison. I didn't even know my own name anymore, or at least my original name. 3000 years gives you a lot of time to learn things, and it also unlocks areas of the brain that would remain dormant for a normal human's entire life. I could forge to an exact degree (with both metals and identities) meaning that I have had an inordinate amount of names. The one I had at the moment was Will.
I had been looking for the man for about 2500 years. At first the immortality was fun, and I showed off to everyone. But after watching everyone I loved die before my eyes, it became less so. I tried making blood pacts with others to try and give them my immortality, but to no avail. I realised that I could not make a single friend for the rest of my life. This was depressing,. but eventually I numbed myself to it, and to every other type of pain too. You could shoot me in the head, but I wouldn't die. I was put to the guillotine in France for being a witch after they found out about my invincibility, but my head just grow straight back.
But I kept on searching and searching. I would never find him, though, I knew, because he was dead. I found out yesterday. I saw his grave. I bore the name "Graman Shore".
I'm so tired...
I might just go for a snooze...
​
And he felt no more. | It's not that you're ungrateful or anything like that - but you wish you could die already and meet your loved ones that's gone to the other side without you over the years.
"Has anyone seen this man?" Is the name of the post you're making online with your sketch of what you can remember of him. You write down the name of the city you helped him escape imprisonment from in its modern name too as the last place you saw him. You spiel a story that you want to catch up with this man you haven't seen in years who you had helped and made an oath with each other.
You write down with no remorse that you are dying.
The internet implodes and it has been shared over a hundred thousand times and you bet even more on other social media platforms.
Unsurprisingly, you receive false messages.
You sigh after reading once again another fake claim. You were just about to go to bed when you received a new notification - this time with the name of that city but in its old name - written the olden way and the message is written of the old language that is for all intents and purposes considered dead and your entire body is wide awake.
> Hello friend. I hear you've been looking for me.
It begins pleasantly and soon dread pools in your gut the more you read.
> I remember you still of course, I am indebted to your help all those years ago and at your kindness and generosity. I look forward to meet with you again - but I will only do this so the media will stop spreading your eerie accurate depiction of my appearance. I am rather fond of who I look like this generation and for you to ruin it by spreading it in this time... Well - that simply won't do, will it? I implore you - my friend and ally for you are of course that, to meet me tomorrow noon in the park by your local library and take a picture so they will calm down once this has been resolved.
Your hands are trembling at his signature.
> Yours always - the felon
This was a mistake.
You abruptly delete your post and send messages to all media to stop broadcasting/sharing as you've already found him and that he's a private man and you've upsetted him.
Of course, this was your new mistake. Believing the media would listen to you.
You delete all traces of your online identity and are in the process of recreating a new offline and online one when there is a knock on your door.
It is 1:19 AM - no one should be here. Yet you already know for who else would it be but the felon?
_"My ally."_ Your dead native language flows from the other man you've been looking for in a strange accent. _"Are you not?"_
He makes himself comfortable in your living room and you silently, gobsmacked as you were, watch him do so with no protest. Instead, you calmly close the door behind you and plead your case.
_"Undo the blood oath. Let me pass."_ You all but beg. _"Please."_
This man who cursed you frowns and tilts his head in confusion. _"Many others would kill to have what I've given you, do you not want to reconsider?"_
You shake your head, nerves somewhat uncoiling at the serenity of the situation. _"I wish to be gone from this life. Many others may have lasted longer but I have lived for far too long than I should have."_
He hums and smiles. _"Very well, may you find peace in nothingness."_ A knife is brandished and you feel your nerves coil tightly as he comes closer to you. _"This may hurt."_
So it did. You screamed and he lets you scream. Your dwelling is sound proof.
Blood spills and stains the cream carpet and you feel consciousness fade away from you.
_"May you rest."_ The Felon kneels next to you and fingers are combed through your hair. _"In hell."_
Your eyes snap wide open from its drooping state and your fingers feebly attempt to claw at his legs as he stands up and walks away from you.
His laughter rings in your skull as you fade away. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | We had both been wanderers when we met, far from our birth lands. How I found him that day I’ll never know. Was it just random chance or the will of the gods?
He had been bound hand a foot and placed in a tide pool. The local tribe was offering him as a sacrifice to their sea deity. I climbed over the rocks just in time to loosen the ropes and set him free, before the incoming tides drowned him. Why the priests weren’t watching or no one stopped our escape I never have been able to puzzle out.
We made our way along the coast until we found a small cave where I could tend his wounds, keep him warm and share some food. To my surprise his wounds were healed the next morning, with no signs of the cuts that had been all over his body. Oddly enough, so were the few cuts I had received climbing over the rocks to reach him.
We had both managed to develop a pidgin language through our travels and were able to have some basic communication. I learned he had come from the east. His people had been nomads. He, like myself, had always been adventurous and had left his people to explore the world.
We quickly became friends and traveled together for many years afterward, each of us eager to see what was over the horizon. We hunted together, fought together, survived together. He always joked that we would die together.
After many years I had a desire to see my homeland. We argued over going, which was the first time he and I disagreed about where to go next. He kept telling me I shouldn’t. That my people wouldn’t accept me. I thought he feared I would want to stay with them.
How I wish I had listened.
We made our way to my village but he would not come closer than a day’s walk. Giving up on convincing him to go with me I made my way to the village. It was much larger than I had remembered though the totems and the central hall were still in their place.
As I looked for familiar faces I heard a woman’s scream. I turned to see a woman staring at me, weeping.
My beautiful younger sister was a woman grown, with two young girls beside her. She sobbed my name but refused to come closer. Several others had gathered around us and I began to recognize others. They were all just much older than I had remembered. And here I was, with the same young man’s face as when I had left.
I don’t like to revisit those memories. That was the last time I saw my village. Lets leave it at that.
When I retuned to our campsite I could tell he knew what had happened. He held me that night as I sobbed. We didn’t talk for days. Eventually he shared that he had gone through the same with his family too.
We spent several more years together after that but eventually parted ways. We would find each every few decade. Sometimes we would spend years together, others just a few days. We became lovers at times, others we parted with angry words. But we always came back to one another.
It’s gotten harder to hide over time. The world is so much more populated. Governments are documenting their citizens with ever more secure methods. Social media has made it much easier for people to connect.
I’ve found a few other Ancients this way. There are some tell-tale signs if you know what to look for. There aren’t very many of us. Some are centuries older than I am, others have only been in this journey for a handful of centuries. None of us like to be in the spotlight.
The one I haven’t found, though, is him. It’s been a couple hundred years this time, longer than any other separation we’ve had. My soul aches to see him again. We’ve been though so much together. He knows me better than anyone else.
I found my first gray hair recently, which is why I’ve come to you. Time is running out.
Edit: spelling, punctuation and grammar. | It's not that you're ungrateful or anything like that - but you wish you could die already and meet your loved ones that's gone to the other side without you over the years.
"Has anyone seen this man?" Is the name of the post you're making online with your sketch of what you can remember of him. You write down the name of the city you helped him escape imprisonment from in its modern name too as the last place you saw him. You spiel a story that you want to catch up with this man you haven't seen in years who you had helped and made an oath with each other.
You write down with no remorse that you are dying.
The internet implodes and it has been shared over a hundred thousand times and you bet even more on other social media platforms.
Unsurprisingly, you receive false messages.
You sigh after reading once again another fake claim. You were just about to go to bed when you received a new notification - this time with the name of that city but in its old name - written the olden way and the message is written of the old language that is for all intents and purposes considered dead and your entire body is wide awake.
> Hello friend. I hear you've been looking for me.
It begins pleasantly and soon dread pools in your gut the more you read.
> I remember you still of course, I am indebted to your help all those years ago and at your kindness and generosity. I look forward to meet with you again - but I will only do this so the media will stop spreading your eerie accurate depiction of my appearance. I am rather fond of who I look like this generation and for you to ruin it by spreading it in this time... Well - that simply won't do, will it? I implore you - my friend and ally for you are of course that, to meet me tomorrow noon in the park by your local library and take a picture so they will calm down once this has been resolved.
Your hands are trembling at his signature.
> Yours always - the felon
This was a mistake.
You abruptly delete your post and send messages to all media to stop broadcasting/sharing as you've already found him and that he's a private man and you've upsetted him.
Of course, this was your new mistake. Believing the media would listen to you.
You delete all traces of your online identity and are in the process of recreating a new offline and online one when there is a knock on your door.
It is 1:19 AM - no one should be here. Yet you already know for who else would it be but the felon?
_"My ally."_ Your dead native language flows from the other man you've been looking for in a strange accent. _"Are you not?"_
He makes himself comfortable in your living room and you silently, gobsmacked as you were, watch him do so with no protest. Instead, you calmly close the door behind you and plead your case.
_"Undo the blood oath. Let me pass."_ You all but beg. _"Please."_
This man who cursed you frowns and tilts his head in confusion. _"Many others would kill to have what I've given you, do you not want to reconsider?"_
You shake your head, nerves somewhat uncoiling at the serenity of the situation. _"I wish to be gone from this life. Many others may have lasted longer but I have lived for far too long than I should have."_
He hums and smiles. _"Very well, may you find peace in nothingness."_ A knife is brandished and you feel your nerves coil tightly as he comes closer to you. _"This may hurt."_
So it did. You screamed and he lets you scream. Your dwelling is sound proof.
Blood spills and stains the cream carpet and you feel consciousness fade away from you.
_"May you rest."_ The Felon kneels next to you and fingers are combed through your hair. _"In hell."_
Your eyes snap wide open from its drooping state and your fingers feebly attempt to claw at his legs as he stands up and walks away from you.
His laughter rings in your skull as you fade away. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | Nonus was a cruel man; a jailer. Renowned throughout Gaul and Germania for his participation in the slave trade. Someone you’ve beaten into submission for years and years will never say no to your every whim and need.
I was ten years old when he bought me.
I was thirteen when I caught his eye for the first time. I guess he’d thought I was exotic looking. At fifteen I’d started bleeding, and he made me his wife. When I was his slave, I thought I’d known the full extent of his cruelty. As his wife, I learned that it had unending depths. I learned to tie my chiton in such a way that it hid the purple splotches on my collarbones, to sit in such a way that bruises on my thighs were invisible to the populace.
I forget what day it was when I first noticed the prisoner, but it was evening. The shadow stretched long and languid over the face of the sundial. Ides, maybe. Summer, for sure. It’s been a long time, but I remember the moment exactly.
His eyes caught mine, and I was shocked to see the reflection of aquamarine. The same I had observed in looking glasses, in puddles. The same as mine. Raven black hair hung stringy around his shoulders, and his torso was covered in welts. I winced from the courtyard as my husband threw him into the pit and I heard one of his arms snap.
\*\*\*
I’d finished my duties for the day, let my husband take his frustration out on my body, then fed him. He was remarkably ungrateful. I suppose I would be too, if I’d incurred the social risk of a former slave as a wife only to find out she was barren. I suppose I would be too, if I was too stupid or too naïve to know about poison or divorce. Or maybe he liked having a ragdoll, a punching bag. Would a Roman citizen of noble birth with a well-connected father allow such things to happen to her? No; that is why I was Nonus’ wife, I guess.
It was also my duty to go make sure all the cells were locked, to give bread and water to the men in the carts.
I thought of the man with the eyes like mine, and folded up rice into grape leaves, hiding them in my belt, my veil.
\*\*\*
“*Why do you let him hurt you, sister?*”
I haven’t heard that language since my father said goodbye to me. Tears well in my eyes and I find that I must consciously search to string the words together, to use the grammar that is familiar yet now unfamiliar. I turn, and find the voice is coming from the pit. The stranger, the man with my eyes.
“*There is no choice. I was sold. I must obey.*” I reply. It feels like I am speaking a language from a different life. I lower my veil around my neck, taking the grape leaves and adding them to the normal ration of bread and water. “*Eat. Tomorrow I will see if I can get milk.*”
\*\*\*
Mercifully, Nonus was always a heavy sleeper. A legion could march by, belligerent and with swords and shields clanging, and he would remain unmoving. A stone, a corpse. I’d talked to the prisoner for a fortnight. He told me about my homeland, how green the rolling hills were, how there were lakes nestled between mountains. How the near constant rain nourished the plants and animals. I listened to him speak my mother tongue and cried while my bruises throbbed.
Nonus never kept prisoners for more than a fortnight.
Naturally, I'd stolen the key.
“*Thank you, sister. I know not how to get home, but I will find my way. We shall make a blood oath. You will find me again, and we can talk once more, for as long as we shall live. Forever connected.*”
He took my hand and before I could withdraw it, I felt his sharp fingernail draw across my palm. The cut burnt and I felt sticky warmth trickle from my hand. When I looked up, he was gone.
\*\*\*
Nonus beat me and left me for dead in the forest when he found out the prisoner was gone. My bones cracked, my skull half-shattered, one blue eye bulging out of the socket. It felt as if all my innards had ruptured. I remember looking at my leg, and seeing the yellow, sharp spear of what had been my femur sticking out of my thigh, bent at an unnatural angle.
This was the first time I wished for death.
My body knitted itself together over three days. It hurt almost as bad as when Nonus had broken my bones and my spirit in the first place. Animals were no longer drawn to the scent of my blood; a wolf had whimpered and scampered away when my femur shifted and I shrieked, when it withdrew back into my skin and made hard contact with the remaining fragments.
When I got up, covered in dried blood, my own vomit, piss, feces, I was a woman reborn.
\*\*\*
I cannot count all the times I should have let death take me. I cannot count all the times I have tried to end my life myself. I learned that Nonus was not the only cruel man in the world. And that men and women are crueler than gods, or devils, or anything we could think up to justify our behavior.
The only times I didn’t really mind were the times I just got sick, or the freak accidents. The plague of Justinian sucked, and so did the Black Death. Both painful and annoying. Each day I had to rest was one day less that I was journeying, that I was looking for him. I wanted to hear more stories. I wanted to give him stuffed grape leaves again.
I can tell you that most of what they say about Countess Bathory is true; servants put me on the corpse pile after the woman drained my blood over a big porcelain ewer. Not the most painful, but the messiest.
The Inquisition was terrible. I was broken on the Catherine wheel a few times. The breast ripper is probably the most painful, but the pear of anguish is a close second.
I was burnt in Würzburg, and hanged in Salem.
I felt like an idiot when it occurred to me to remember what he’d said about our homeland. Green. Rainy. I hid on a trading galleon heading from the colonies to Great Britain. I hoped finding a ship to Ireland would be just as easy.
I ‘died’ a few times during the famine, and then again during the Troubles. Not the worst ones either. Getting shot is the easiest if the killer has good aim.
Last year I decided to go to a local ceili, to get out of the house, if anything. I recognized him immediately, the raven black hair that I'd seen so long ago, that had reminded me of something. It took almost three thousand years to remember. He had my father's hair. The fiddler looked up at me with bright, aqua eyes as I opened the door, taking off my hood and exposing bright copper curls.
“*Deartháir*.“ | It's not that you're ungrateful or anything like that - but you wish you could die already and meet your loved ones that's gone to the other side without you over the years.
"Has anyone seen this man?" Is the name of the post you're making online with your sketch of what you can remember of him. You write down the name of the city you helped him escape imprisonment from in its modern name too as the last place you saw him. You spiel a story that you want to catch up with this man you haven't seen in years who you had helped and made an oath with each other.
You write down with no remorse that you are dying.
The internet implodes and it has been shared over a hundred thousand times and you bet even more on other social media platforms.
Unsurprisingly, you receive false messages.
You sigh after reading once again another fake claim. You were just about to go to bed when you received a new notification - this time with the name of that city but in its old name - written the olden way and the message is written of the old language that is for all intents and purposes considered dead and your entire body is wide awake.
> Hello friend. I hear you've been looking for me.
It begins pleasantly and soon dread pools in your gut the more you read.
> I remember you still of course, I am indebted to your help all those years ago and at your kindness and generosity. I look forward to meet with you again - but I will only do this so the media will stop spreading your eerie accurate depiction of my appearance. I am rather fond of who I look like this generation and for you to ruin it by spreading it in this time... Well - that simply won't do, will it? I implore you - my friend and ally for you are of course that, to meet me tomorrow noon in the park by your local library and take a picture so they will calm down once this has been resolved.
Your hands are trembling at his signature.
> Yours always - the felon
This was a mistake.
You abruptly delete your post and send messages to all media to stop broadcasting/sharing as you've already found him and that he's a private man and you've upsetted him.
Of course, this was your new mistake. Believing the media would listen to you.
You delete all traces of your online identity and are in the process of recreating a new offline and online one when there is a knock on your door.
It is 1:19 AM - no one should be here. Yet you already know for who else would it be but the felon?
_"My ally."_ Your dead native language flows from the other man you've been looking for in a strange accent. _"Are you not?"_
He makes himself comfortable in your living room and you silently, gobsmacked as you were, watch him do so with no protest. Instead, you calmly close the door behind you and plead your case.
_"Undo the blood oath. Let me pass."_ You all but beg. _"Please."_
This man who cursed you frowns and tilts his head in confusion. _"Many others would kill to have what I've given you, do you not want to reconsider?"_
You shake your head, nerves somewhat uncoiling at the serenity of the situation. _"I wish to be gone from this life. Many others may have lasted longer but I have lived for far too long than I should have."_
He hums and smiles. _"Very well, may you find peace in nothingness."_ A knife is brandished and you feel your nerves coil tightly as he comes closer to you. _"This may hurt."_
So it did. You screamed and he lets you scream. Your dwelling is sound proof.
Blood spills and stains the cream carpet and you feel consciousness fade away from you.
_"May you rest."_ The Felon kneels next to you and fingers are combed through your hair. _"In hell."_
Your eyes snap wide open from its drooping state and your fingers feebly attempt to claw at his legs as he stands up and walks away from you.
His laughter rings in your skull as you fade away. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | You may not know this, but your memory is finite.
This is fine for your average man. 80-100 years of memories and then you die before anything bad happens. Hopefully anyway.
Not me though. No.
I've been alive for 3000 years. I ran out of room a long time ago.
I know a few things. After a while... I'm not sure how long... I noticed I couldn't remember things. Important things.
So I made a list.
I've been married at least 145 times.
I know the names of 33 of those people.
It's hard. You make a note of their name because how ever real it feels at the time... They'll fade like everything else.
The children are the hardest.
I've outlived at least 843 of my children.
There are gaps in my notes of their names because sometimes I feel its better to forget.
But the thing is... Reading my history... Its just like reading someone else's.
It doesn't feel real.
Few things do these days.
What does?
I remember killing my 57th wife. I remember everything about it. Vividly. The pain makes it real.
Things seem more inconsequential when you live forever. Nothing matters. Your morals... Waver in time.
1500 years or so later, I still remember everything about that moment. Every minute detail.
She lives forever in my head.
I've been married to Samantha for 12 years now.
It's more than love.
She believes me when I tell her what I've seen.
I can't lose her to time.
I must remember her. I must do what it takes.
I am stood outside my house with a claw hammer in my hand.
The blood and brains of my son drips from it to the ground. I'll remember him too.
I open the door and call for Samantha.
I can smell dinner. She's made lamb and onions.
I'll remember her.
Forever. | The midnight winds fluttered the wet leaves in the canopy above us, and the waves could be heard crashing against rock and granite.
Nine torches with different types of animal blood splattered over the base were arranged in a circular shape, and we stood at the focal point within the ritual ground.
“Here”. One of the two obsidian arrowheads was grasped in his hand, channeling immense pressure indenting his flesh.
When the stars and our ethereal souls collided, we gashed the palms of our hands and shook. The ritual was a success; to become essentially immortal, but there was one issue...
The year is 2020, a bag of makeshift IV fluid sat on a pedestal next to the rickety IKEA bed some entrepreneur dumped in a dumpster twenty-seven years past. I am homeless, unable to adapt into conventional society. No funds, no peers, no stable jobs, just a man with the AIDS virus because he decided to shake a mans fucking bloodied hand. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | "Shake my hand."
Those were the last words I heard him speak. The escape operation had been incredibly difficult. There were enough guards to fill a soccer stadium surrounding this prison for one person. The person I had just killed each and every last guard to free. He had told me to make a blood oath, and become blood brothers. And I did so, to my demise. That was BC 1105. The year now is 2020. I have seen the rise and fall of many empires, the birth and death of the supposed Jesus Christ, although I never believed it. I saw both world wars, and the cold war, fought in both of them too. I became a legend among the ranks, but also a secret to the generals and lieutenants. In order to protect my identity, where in the battle of Mons my absolute, supposedly suicidal rampage caused the enemy troops to flee in sheer terror, the troops, my friends, told the authorities that angels and flown down and scared off the Nazis. The excuse still made me giggle slightly to this day.
I guess I'm crazy, but living for 3000 years does that to people. I hadn't aged a day since I had rescued him from that torture house the Chinese had called a prison. I didn't even know my own name anymore, or at least my original name. 3000 years gives you a lot of time to learn things, and it also unlocks areas of the brain that would remain dormant for a normal human's entire life. I could forge to an exact degree (with both metals and identities) meaning that I have had an inordinate amount of names. The one I had at the moment was Will.
I had been looking for the man for about 2500 years. At first the immortality was fun, and I showed off to everyone. But after watching everyone I loved die before my eyes, it became less so. I tried making blood pacts with others to try and give them my immortality, but to no avail. I realised that I could not make a single friend for the rest of my life. This was depressing,. but eventually I numbed myself to it, and to every other type of pain too. You could shoot me in the head, but I wouldn't die. I was put to the guillotine in France for being a witch after they found out about my invincibility, but my head just grow straight back.
But I kept on searching and searching. I would never find him, though, I knew, because he was dead. I found out yesterday. I saw his grave. I bore the name "Graman Shore".
I'm so tired...
I might just go for a snooze...
​
And he felt no more. | The midnight winds fluttered the wet leaves in the canopy above us, and the waves could be heard crashing against rock and granite.
Nine torches with different types of animal blood splattered over the base were arranged in a circular shape, and we stood at the focal point within the ritual ground.
“Here”. One of the two obsidian arrowheads was grasped in his hand, channeling immense pressure indenting his flesh.
When the stars and our ethereal souls collided, we gashed the palms of our hands and shook. The ritual was a success; to become essentially immortal, but there was one issue...
The year is 2020, a bag of makeshift IV fluid sat on a pedestal next to the rickety IKEA bed some entrepreneur dumped in a dumpster twenty-seven years past. I am homeless, unable to adapt into conventional society. No funds, no peers, no stable jobs, just a man with the AIDS virus because he decided to shake a mans fucking bloodied hand. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | We had both been wanderers when we met, far from our birth lands. How I found him that day I’ll never know. Was it just random chance or the will of the gods?
He had been bound hand a foot and placed in a tide pool. The local tribe was offering him as a sacrifice to their sea deity. I climbed over the rocks just in time to loosen the ropes and set him free, before the incoming tides drowned him. Why the priests weren’t watching or no one stopped our escape I never have been able to puzzle out.
We made our way along the coast until we found a small cave where I could tend his wounds, keep him warm and share some food. To my surprise his wounds were healed the next morning, with no signs of the cuts that had been all over his body. Oddly enough, so were the few cuts I had received climbing over the rocks to reach him.
We had both managed to develop a pidgin language through our travels and were able to have some basic communication. I learned he had come from the east. His people had been nomads. He, like myself, had always been adventurous and had left his people to explore the world.
We quickly became friends and traveled together for many years afterward, each of us eager to see what was over the horizon. We hunted together, fought together, survived together. He always joked that we would die together.
After many years I had a desire to see my homeland. We argued over going, which was the first time he and I disagreed about where to go next. He kept telling me I shouldn’t. That my people wouldn’t accept me. I thought he feared I would want to stay with them.
How I wish I had listened.
We made our way to my village but he would not come closer than a day’s walk. Giving up on convincing him to go with me I made my way to the village. It was much larger than I had remembered though the totems and the central hall were still in their place.
As I looked for familiar faces I heard a woman’s scream. I turned to see a woman staring at me, weeping.
My beautiful younger sister was a woman grown, with two young girls beside her. She sobbed my name but refused to come closer. Several others had gathered around us and I began to recognize others. They were all just much older than I had remembered. And here I was, with the same young man’s face as when I had left.
I don’t like to revisit those memories. That was the last time I saw my village. Lets leave it at that.
When I retuned to our campsite I could tell he knew what had happened. He held me that night as I sobbed. We didn’t talk for days. Eventually he shared that he had gone through the same with his family too.
We spent several more years together after that but eventually parted ways. We would find each every few decade. Sometimes we would spend years together, others just a few days. We became lovers at times, others we parted with angry words. But we always came back to one another.
It’s gotten harder to hide over time. The world is so much more populated. Governments are documenting their citizens with ever more secure methods. Social media has made it much easier for people to connect.
I’ve found a few other Ancients this way. There are some tell-tale signs if you know what to look for. There aren’t very many of us. Some are centuries older than I am, others have only been in this journey for a handful of centuries. None of us like to be in the spotlight.
The one I haven’t found, though, is him. It’s been a couple hundred years this time, longer than any other separation we’ve had. My soul aches to see him again. We’ve been though so much together. He knows me better than anyone else.
I found my first gray hair recently, which is why I’ve come to you. Time is running out.
Edit: spelling, punctuation and grammar. | The midnight winds fluttered the wet leaves in the canopy above us, and the waves could be heard crashing against rock and granite.
Nine torches with different types of animal blood splattered over the base were arranged in a circular shape, and we stood at the focal point within the ritual ground.
“Here”. One of the two obsidian arrowheads was grasped in his hand, channeling immense pressure indenting his flesh.
When the stars and our ethereal souls collided, we gashed the palms of our hands and shook. The ritual was a success; to become essentially immortal, but there was one issue...
The year is 2020, a bag of makeshift IV fluid sat on a pedestal next to the rickety IKEA bed some entrepreneur dumped in a dumpster twenty-seven years past. I am homeless, unable to adapt into conventional society. No funds, no peers, no stable jobs, just a man with the AIDS virus because he decided to shake a mans fucking bloodied hand. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | Nonus was a cruel man; a jailer. Renowned throughout Gaul and Germania for his participation in the slave trade. Someone you’ve beaten into submission for years and years will never say no to your every whim and need.
I was ten years old when he bought me.
I was thirteen when I caught his eye for the first time. I guess he’d thought I was exotic looking. At fifteen I’d started bleeding, and he made me his wife. When I was his slave, I thought I’d known the full extent of his cruelty. As his wife, I learned that it had unending depths. I learned to tie my chiton in such a way that it hid the purple splotches on my collarbones, to sit in such a way that bruises on my thighs were invisible to the populace.
I forget what day it was when I first noticed the prisoner, but it was evening. The shadow stretched long and languid over the face of the sundial. Ides, maybe. Summer, for sure. It’s been a long time, but I remember the moment exactly.
His eyes caught mine, and I was shocked to see the reflection of aquamarine. The same I had observed in looking glasses, in puddles. The same as mine. Raven black hair hung stringy around his shoulders, and his torso was covered in welts. I winced from the courtyard as my husband threw him into the pit and I heard one of his arms snap.
\*\*\*
I’d finished my duties for the day, let my husband take his frustration out on my body, then fed him. He was remarkably ungrateful. I suppose I would be too, if I’d incurred the social risk of a former slave as a wife only to find out she was barren. I suppose I would be too, if I was too stupid or too naïve to know about poison or divorce. Or maybe he liked having a ragdoll, a punching bag. Would a Roman citizen of noble birth with a well-connected father allow such things to happen to her? No; that is why I was Nonus’ wife, I guess.
It was also my duty to go make sure all the cells were locked, to give bread and water to the men in the carts.
I thought of the man with the eyes like mine, and folded up rice into grape leaves, hiding them in my belt, my veil.
\*\*\*
“*Why do you let him hurt you, sister?*”
I haven’t heard that language since my father said goodbye to me. Tears well in my eyes and I find that I must consciously search to string the words together, to use the grammar that is familiar yet now unfamiliar. I turn, and find the voice is coming from the pit. The stranger, the man with my eyes.
“*There is no choice. I was sold. I must obey.*” I reply. It feels like I am speaking a language from a different life. I lower my veil around my neck, taking the grape leaves and adding them to the normal ration of bread and water. “*Eat. Tomorrow I will see if I can get milk.*”
\*\*\*
Mercifully, Nonus was always a heavy sleeper. A legion could march by, belligerent and with swords and shields clanging, and he would remain unmoving. A stone, a corpse. I’d talked to the prisoner for a fortnight. He told me about my homeland, how green the rolling hills were, how there were lakes nestled between mountains. How the near constant rain nourished the plants and animals. I listened to him speak my mother tongue and cried while my bruises throbbed.
Nonus never kept prisoners for more than a fortnight.
Naturally, I'd stolen the key.
“*Thank you, sister. I know not how to get home, but I will find my way. We shall make a blood oath. You will find me again, and we can talk once more, for as long as we shall live. Forever connected.*”
He took my hand and before I could withdraw it, I felt his sharp fingernail draw across my palm. The cut burnt and I felt sticky warmth trickle from my hand. When I looked up, he was gone.
\*\*\*
Nonus beat me and left me for dead in the forest when he found out the prisoner was gone. My bones cracked, my skull half-shattered, one blue eye bulging out of the socket. It felt as if all my innards had ruptured. I remember looking at my leg, and seeing the yellow, sharp spear of what had been my femur sticking out of my thigh, bent at an unnatural angle.
This was the first time I wished for death.
My body knitted itself together over three days. It hurt almost as bad as when Nonus had broken my bones and my spirit in the first place. Animals were no longer drawn to the scent of my blood; a wolf had whimpered and scampered away when my femur shifted and I shrieked, when it withdrew back into my skin and made hard contact with the remaining fragments.
When I got up, covered in dried blood, my own vomit, piss, feces, I was a woman reborn.
\*\*\*
I cannot count all the times I should have let death take me. I cannot count all the times I have tried to end my life myself. I learned that Nonus was not the only cruel man in the world. And that men and women are crueler than gods, or devils, or anything we could think up to justify our behavior.
The only times I didn’t really mind were the times I just got sick, or the freak accidents. The plague of Justinian sucked, and so did the Black Death. Both painful and annoying. Each day I had to rest was one day less that I was journeying, that I was looking for him. I wanted to hear more stories. I wanted to give him stuffed grape leaves again.
I can tell you that most of what they say about Countess Bathory is true; servants put me on the corpse pile after the woman drained my blood over a big porcelain ewer. Not the most painful, but the messiest.
The Inquisition was terrible. I was broken on the Catherine wheel a few times. The breast ripper is probably the most painful, but the pear of anguish is a close second.
I was burnt in Würzburg, and hanged in Salem.
I felt like an idiot when it occurred to me to remember what he’d said about our homeland. Green. Rainy. I hid on a trading galleon heading from the colonies to Great Britain. I hoped finding a ship to Ireland would be just as easy.
I ‘died’ a few times during the famine, and then again during the Troubles. Not the worst ones either. Getting shot is the easiest if the killer has good aim.
Last year I decided to go to a local ceili, to get out of the house, if anything. I recognized him immediately, the raven black hair that I'd seen so long ago, that had reminded me of something. It took almost three thousand years to remember. He had my father's hair. The fiddler looked up at me with bright, aqua eyes as I opened the door, taking off my hood and exposing bright copper curls.
“*Deartháir*.“ | The midnight winds fluttered the wet leaves in the canopy above us, and the waves could be heard crashing against rock and granite.
Nine torches with different types of animal blood splattered over the base were arranged in a circular shape, and we stood at the focal point within the ritual ground.
“Here”. One of the two obsidian arrowheads was grasped in his hand, channeling immense pressure indenting his flesh.
When the stars and our ethereal souls collided, we gashed the palms of our hands and shook. The ritual was a success; to become essentially immortal, but there was one issue...
The year is 2020, a bag of makeshift IV fluid sat on a pedestal next to the rickety IKEA bed some entrepreneur dumped in a dumpster twenty-seven years past. I am homeless, unable to adapt into conventional society. No funds, no peers, no stable jobs, just a man with the AIDS virus because he decided to shake a mans fucking bloodied hand. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | "Shake my hand."
Those were the last words I heard him speak. The escape operation had been incredibly difficult. There were enough guards to fill a soccer stadium surrounding this prison for one person. The person I had just killed each and every last guard to free. He had told me to make a blood oath, and become blood brothers. And I did so, to my demise. That was BC 1105. The year now is 2020. I have seen the rise and fall of many empires, the birth and death of the supposed Jesus Christ, although I never believed it. I saw both world wars, and the cold war, fought in both of them too. I became a legend among the ranks, but also a secret to the generals and lieutenants. In order to protect my identity, where in the battle of Mons my absolute, supposedly suicidal rampage caused the enemy troops to flee in sheer terror, the troops, my friends, told the authorities that angels and flown down and scared off the Nazis. The excuse still made me giggle slightly to this day.
I guess I'm crazy, but living for 3000 years does that to people. I hadn't aged a day since I had rescued him from that torture house the Chinese had called a prison. I didn't even know my own name anymore, or at least my original name. 3000 years gives you a lot of time to learn things, and it also unlocks areas of the brain that would remain dormant for a normal human's entire life. I could forge to an exact degree (with both metals and identities) meaning that I have had an inordinate amount of names. The one I had at the moment was Will.
I had been looking for the man for about 2500 years. At first the immortality was fun, and I showed off to everyone. But after watching everyone I loved die before my eyes, it became less so. I tried making blood pacts with others to try and give them my immortality, but to no avail. I realised that I could not make a single friend for the rest of my life. This was depressing,. but eventually I numbed myself to it, and to every other type of pain too. You could shoot me in the head, but I wouldn't die. I was put to the guillotine in France for being a witch after they found out about my invincibility, but my head just grow straight back.
But I kept on searching and searching. I would never find him, though, I knew, because he was dead. I found out yesterday. I saw his grave. I bore the name "Graman Shore".
I'm so tired...
I might just go for a snooze...
​
And he felt no more. | A nice, warm, august morning. Birds where singing and you could hear some slow music, but vaguely.
" God dang it, i forgot to close the fuc*ing window again" I spoke angrily to myself.
"Alexa, close the Windows, draw the curtains and turn on the AC on, uh..uh.. 70 degrees"
I always forget that I have to use the imperial system and not normal units. Gosh, I hate America. I hate the people, I hate the lifestyle.. egh, I guess I just hate everything.
I raise up from the bed with sorrow. I woke up again. AGAIN. It's hopeless, but I still wish to die in my sleep, peacefully. Who am I trying to fool? I just want to die. I lost everything I had dear.
Family, friends, love and...and.. my dog.
For so long I've tried to fill up the hollow in my life, but I failed miserably. Nothing can replace them.
Everyday I blame myself more. For making that pact? No, I can't. I blame myself for not aging with her, for not being there for her while she aged. Why in the wold did I think that leaving was a good ideea? She thought I got killed and she found someone else. But that was for the best. I couldn't bear to watch her age and get all wrinkly with her hair going white.. and our kid growing up and...and aging as well. Everything that I get to love, dies. Even the trees I planted.
I outlive everything. I can't have anything with me, that would last as long as I do. A tear starts rolling down my face. As I drink my coffee, I pick up my laptop and open up tor. I kept browsing the dark web for antiquities for a long time. I started this hidden, underworld online market only for this purpose. But it degenerated into a horrible place where sick people gather.
It's good.
This reminds me why I do what I started a long time ago.
My phone starts ringing.
" Yea, Trump will be the president. He should stir up thing with Korea just enough so I can start the nuclear war once they threaten us"
Humanity needs a reboot.
Humanity needs a new beginning.
Humanity it's evil. Humans need a miracle, but they will only get an apocalypse and I am the one that will bring it. | |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | We had both been wanderers when we met, far from our birth lands. How I found him that day I’ll never know. Was it just random chance or the will of the gods?
He had been bound hand a foot and placed in a tide pool. The local tribe was offering him as a sacrifice to their sea deity. I climbed over the rocks just in time to loosen the ropes and set him free, before the incoming tides drowned him. Why the priests weren’t watching or no one stopped our escape I never have been able to puzzle out.
We made our way along the coast until we found a small cave where I could tend his wounds, keep him warm and share some food. To my surprise his wounds were healed the next morning, with no signs of the cuts that had been all over his body. Oddly enough, so were the few cuts I had received climbing over the rocks to reach him.
We had both managed to develop a pidgin language through our travels and were able to have some basic communication. I learned he had come from the east. His people had been nomads. He, like myself, had always been adventurous and had left his people to explore the world.
We quickly became friends and traveled together for many years afterward, each of us eager to see what was over the horizon. We hunted together, fought together, survived together. He always joked that we would die together.
After many years I had a desire to see my homeland. We argued over going, which was the first time he and I disagreed about where to go next. He kept telling me I shouldn’t. That my people wouldn’t accept me. I thought he feared I would want to stay with them.
How I wish I had listened.
We made our way to my village but he would not come closer than a day’s walk. Giving up on convincing him to go with me I made my way to the village. It was much larger than I had remembered though the totems and the central hall were still in their place.
As I looked for familiar faces I heard a woman’s scream. I turned to see a woman staring at me, weeping.
My beautiful younger sister was a woman grown, with two young girls beside her. She sobbed my name but refused to come closer. Several others had gathered around us and I began to recognize others. They were all just much older than I had remembered. And here I was, with the same young man’s face as when I had left.
I don’t like to revisit those memories. That was the last time I saw my village. Lets leave it at that.
When I retuned to our campsite I could tell he knew what had happened. He held me that night as I sobbed. We didn’t talk for days. Eventually he shared that he had gone through the same with his family too.
We spent several more years together after that but eventually parted ways. We would find each every few decade. Sometimes we would spend years together, others just a few days. We became lovers at times, others we parted with angry words. But we always came back to one another.
It’s gotten harder to hide over time. The world is so much more populated. Governments are documenting their citizens with ever more secure methods. Social media has made it much easier for people to connect.
I’ve found a few other Ancients this way. There are some tell-tale signs if you know what to look for. There aren’t very many of us. Some are centuries older than I am, others have only been in this journey for a handful of centuries. None of us like to be in the spotlight.
The one I haven’t found, though, is him. It’s been a couple hundred years this time, longer than any other separation we’ve had. My soul aches to see him again. We’ve been though so much together. He knows me better than anyone else.
I found my first gray hair recently, which is why I’ve come to you. Time is running out.
Edit: spelling, punctuation and grammar. | A nice, warm, august morning. Birds where singing and you could hear some slow music, but vaguely.
" God dang it, i forgot to close the fuc*ing window again" I spoke angrily to myself.
"Alexa, close the Windows, draw the curtains and turn on the AC on, uh..uh.. 70 degrees"
I always forget that I have to use the imperial system and not normal units. Gosh, I hate America. I hate the people, I hate the lifestyle.. egh, I guess I just hate everything.
I raise up from the bed with sorrow. I woke up again. AGAIN. It's hopeless, but I still wish to die in my sleep, peacefully. Who am I trying to fool? I just want to die. I lost everything I had dear.
Family, friends, love and...and.. my dog.
For so long I've tried to fill up the hollow in my life, but I failed miserably. Nothing can replace them.
Everyday I blame myself more. For making that pact? No, I can't. I blame myself for not aging with her, for not being there for her while she aged. Why in the wold did I think that leaving was a good ideea? She thought I got killed and she found someone else. But that was for the best. I couldn't bear to watch her age and get all wrinkly with her hair going white.. and our kid growing up and...and aging as well. Everything that I get to love, dies. Even the trees I planted.
I outlive everything. I can't have anything with me, that would last as long as I do. A tear starts rolling down my face. As I drink my coffee, I pick up my laptop and open up tor. I kept browsing the dark web for antiquities for a long time. I started this hidden, underworld online market only for this purpose. But it degenerated into a horrible place where sick people gather.
It's good.
This reminds me why I do what I started a long time ago.
My phone starts ringing.
" Yea, Trump will be the president. He should stir up thing with Korea just enough so I can start the nuclear war once they threaten us"
Humanity needs a reboot.
Humanity needs a new beginning.
Humanity it's evil. Humans need a miracle, but they will only get an apocalypse and I am the one that will bring it. |
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