My husband and I have been having issues around communication lately especially when it comes to talking about money.
To be clear I hold a lot of blaming this guy. I've had issues with compulsive spending since I was a child. It is something that I am actively working on. I am in therapy. I work with a psychiatrist. I take meds and I use tools that we have put in place to try and prevent over spending and spending money on things that are not necessary. We have been in counseling for well over a year regarding this, and some general communication issues.
There is one issue that to me has become a hard boundary when my husband and I communicate about money. Specifically, he speaks to me in a way that really makes me feel terrible about myself. I have let him know about this. We have talked about it a lot and where I am Making the effort all the time to try and fix the things I'm doing that are upsetting and distressing to him. He's still can't seem to just mind his tone when he talks to me when we're supposed to be engaging and a discussion and conversation about things. He has a tendency to catastrophize our financial situation we do run to zero quite often. However, we are paying our bills. We are a little behind on a couple of things because we had a water heater issue and that came with an unexpected large bill. We owe maybe about 500-600 He is acting like we're going to lose the house at any moment I have checked we are not
I have laid out a firm boundary about the way that I will be spoken to, and that the tone that he takes with me to money and discussing things is not acceptable, and he has even admitted plan that if somebody spoke to our children the way that he spoke to me, he would be very upset
I have plainly told him that this needs to change because I cannot be in a relationship where I am made to feel like garbage. I don't know if he doesn't care by zero effort has been made and our marriage. Therapist did a watermelon session with him but my husband directed. The conversation is mostly being about money and therefore the communication issues were not really discussed in a productive way When attempting to schedule our next session, our therapist did not have a lot of time, and I expressed to him my distress that this was going to be approaching a learning how to coparent situation rather than a fixing the relationship situation He called my husband and my husband agreed to another one on one session, but my husband has also double down on the way he was speaking to me and today I got upset that I didn't really want to give him a hug or show him any affection because it doesn't feel nice to be made to feel like garbage by your partner
He says the whole reason he feels really strongly about this is he wants to be able to do nice things with his family and go nice places with his family, the thing that really concerns me is he is gotten to a place where I'm about at my breaking point. I've set a very clear boundary. I've asked him to work on this and he just doesn't seem to care.
I have detailed to him all of the work I have done with respect to trying to fix the issues I have with money and being more responsible and less impulsive and resisting my serotonin seeking behaviors (which I've also explain to him, making me feel like a piece of garbage does not help me in resisting that) He has made no progress really at all. We're in the same cycle where he'll talk to me like that at some points he apologizes most of the time he doesn't and then he just wants to act like nothing happened. I don't know what to do with this point I don't want to leave I don't want to get a divorce up until this past year after we had our third child things were great I had a really really rough go of it with postpartum anxiety and developed OCD after our last kid and I have been working really hard to be the wife and mother that he and my kids deserve. I just don't understand why he doesn't seem to care

My husband and I have been having issues around communication lately especially when it comes to talking about money.
To be clear I hold a lot of blaming this guy. I've had issues with compulsive spending since I was a child. It is something that I am actively working on. I am in therapy. I work with a psychiatrist. I take meds and I use tools that we have put in place to try and prevent over spending and spending money on things that are not necessary. We have been in counseling for well over a year regarding this, and some general communication issues.
There is one issue that to me has become a hard boundary when my husband and I communicate about money. Specifically, he speaks to me in a way that really makes me feel terrible about myself. I have let him know about this. We have talked about it a lot and where I am Making the effort all the time to try and fix the things I'm doing that are upsetting and distressing to him. He's still can't seem to just mind his tone when he talks to me when we're supposed to be engaging and a discussion and conversation about things. He has a tendency to catastrophize our financial situation we do run to zero quite often. However, we are paying our bills. We are a little behind on a couple of things because we had a water heater issue and that came with an unexpected large bill. We owe maybe about 500-600 He is acting like we're going to lose the house at any moment I have checked we are not
I have laid out a firm boundary about the way that I will be spoken to, and that the tone that he takes with me to money and discussing things is not acceptable, and he has even admitted plan that if somebody spoke to our children the way that he spoke to me, he would be very upset
I have plainly told him that this needs to change because I cannot be in a relationship where I am made to feel like garbage. I don't know if he doesn't care by zero effort has been made and our marriage. Therapist did a watermelon session with him but my husband directed. The conversation is mostly being about money and therefore the communication issues were not really discussed in a productive way When attempting to schedule our next session, our therapist did not have a lot of time, and I expressed to him my distress that this was going to be approaching a learning how to coparent situation rather than a fixing the relationship situation He called my husband and my husband agreed to another one on one session, but my husband has also double down on the way he was speaking to me and today I got upset that I didn't really want to give him a hug or show him any affection because it doesn't feel nice to be made to feel like garbage by your partner
He says the whole reason he feels really strongly about this is he wants to be able to do nice things with his family and go nice places with his family, the thing that really concerns me is he is gotten to a place where I'm about at my breaking point. I've set a very clear boundary. I've asked him to work on this and he just doesn't seem to care.
I have detailed to him all of the work I have done with respect to trying to fix the issues I have with money and being more responsible and less impulsive and resisting my serotonin seeking behaviors (which I've also explain to him, making me feel like a piece of garbage does not help me in resisting that) He has made no progress really at all. We're in the same cycle where he'll talk to me like that at some points he apologizes most of the time he doesn't and then he just wants to act like nothing happened. I don't know what to do with this point I don't want to leave I don't want to get a divorce up until this past year after we had our third child things were great I had a really really rough go of it with postpartum anxiety and developed OCD after our last kid and I have been working really hard to be the wife and mother that he and my kids deserve. I just don't understand why he doesn't seem to care

Tl;Dr: i've set a boundary about being spoken to in a certain way and my husband does not care.
My husband and I have been having issues around communication lately especially when it comes to talking about money.
To be clear I hold a lot of blaming this guy. I've had issues with compulsive spending since I was a child. It is something that I am actively working on. I am in therapy. I work with a psychiatrist. I take meds and I use tools that we have put in place to try and prevent over spending and spending money on things that are not necessary. We have been in counseling for well over a year regarding this, and some general communication issues.
There is one issue that to me has become a hard boundary when my husband and I communicate about money. Specifically, he speaks to me in a way that really makes me feel terrible about myself. I have let him know about this. We have talked about it a lot and where I am Making the effort all the time to try and fix the things I'm doing that are upsetting and distressing to him. He's still can't seem to just mind his tone when he talks to me when we're supposed to be engaging and a discussion and conversation about things. He has a tendency to catastrophize our financial situation we do run to zero quite often. However, we are paying our bills. We are a little behind on a couple of things because we had a water heater issue and that came with an unexpected large bill. We owe maybe about 500-600 He is acting like we're going to lose the house at any moment I have checked we are not
I have laid out a firm boundary about the way that I will be spoken to, and that the tone that he takes with me to money and discussing things is not acceptable, and he has even admitted plan that if somebody spoke to our children the way that he spoke to me, he would be very upset
I have plainly told him that this needs to change because I cannot be in a relationship where I am made to feel like garbage. I don't know if he doesn't care by zero effort has been made and our marriage. Therapist did a watermelon session with him but my husband directed. The conversation is mostly being about money and therefore the communication issues were not really discussed in a productive way When attempting to schedule our next session, our therapist did not have a lot of time, and I expressed to him my distress that this was going to be approaching a learning how to coparent situation rather than a fixing the relationship situation He called my husband and my husband agreed to another one on one session, but my husband has also double down on the way he was speaking to me and today I got upset that I didn't really want to give him a hug or show him any affection because it doesn't feel nice to be made to feel like garbage by your partner
He says the whole reason he feels really strongly about this is he wants to be able to do nice things with his family and go nice places with his family, the thing that really concerns me is he is gotten to a place where I'm about at my breaking point. I've set a very clear boundary. I've asked him to work on this and he just doesn't seem to care.
I have detailed to him all of the work I have done with respect to trying to fix the issues I have with money and being more responsible and less impulsive and resisting my serotonin seeking behaviors (which I've also explain to him, making me feel like a piece of garbage does not help me in resisting that) He has made no progress really at all. We're in the same cycle where he'll talk to me like that at some points he apologizes most of the time he doesn't and then he just wants to act like nothing happened. I don't know what to do with this point I don't want to leave I don't want to get a divorce up until this past year after we had our third child things were great I had a really really rough go of it with postpartum anxiety and developed OCD after our last kid and I have been working really hard to be the wife and mother that he and my kids deserve. I just don't understand why he doesn't seem to care

Coming face to face with people in suits always makes me hyper-aware of how badly I dress. Since I knew I was going to meet up with Mary Markov today, I intentionally put some more effort into my appearance. I picked out a pressed shirt to wear over my leggings. Since it was far too big for me, I threw my wide yellow belt into the mix. Thus satisfied, I called up Elijah Carter and asked whether he wanted to come along. He agreed readily enough so I had him pick me up and drive us over to Mary's office. It was nowhere near the hospital and not in the vicinity of her news channel headquarters either. It was located in a slate gray concrete building that was quite confusing to look at.
No outside observer could have mistaken it for a residential house, for there was hardly a less homely or comfortable place imaginable. It was utterly repellent in its rough, dreary nature. It couldn't have belonged to some kind of business either, though. There were no marked parking spaces for employees, no signs or advertisements. Altogether, it reminded me of something out of a cheap or unfinished video game.
"Sketchy," Eli remarked, eyeing the slab of concrete with a similar lack of enthusiasm. "Looks almost abandoned. How weirdly fitting for a semi-secret government operation."
I nodded. The warm air had taken me by surprise and I found the weight of my jacket suffocating, so I took it off to leave in the car. "What is it?" I asked, noticing the way Elijah squinted at my outfit.
"What are you wearing?"
"Clothes."
"You don't say." He snorted. "Looking kinda funny there, Shirley."
"I look professional," I corrected him.
"I suppose." He grinned to himself. "Depends on the profession, though."
We rang the bell and a highly official-looking security guard let us in through the heavy double doors after confirming that Mary Markov was expecting us. He gave the necessary directions, sending us down several flights of stairs. The better part of the building was in fact underground, like with an iceberg. Eli made a remark about how it'd be safer if outsiders weren’t allowed to roam the place by themselves. It seems to be a habit of his to vaguely analyze and point out flaws in the structures of government institutions. Then again, maybe it's just flaws in general he's fascinated with.
Upon arriving outside Mary's office, we were called inside to find her sitting behind her desk. She lifted her head, giving us a polite, if cold, smile. "Good morning. You're on time. Wonderful."
"Would you please give me an honest appraisal of my outfit?" I asked.
The newsreader frowned in confusion, her eyes briefly roaming my form. "You put effort into your appearance today," she concluded. "It's appreciated."
"Wait, what do you mean today?" I inquired.
"Note also how she did not actually answer your question," Elijah added.
I huffed, flinging myself into one of the chairs in front of Mary's desk. Eli sat down beside me, folding his hands in his lap and leaning back. "Thanks for letting me come with Shirley," he told her.
"Naturally. I assume you're her emotional support human." Mary Markov's lips curled slightly. "At any rate, you had contact with the Collective yourself, so this does concern you. As far as I'm concerned, it can't hurt having an ex-cop in the mix, anyways. Despite the regrettable reasons you had for leaving the force."
Elijah's brows lowered, the muscle in his pronounced jaw twitching. "How do you know about that?"
Mary looked innocent. "It's very important that I'm fully informed, of course. Don't worry. We don't need to go into it, and I don't judge you, either. The effect the incident at that highschool had on you is completely understandable."
"I didn't ask for your assessment." My friend's voice had sharpened. "Can we move on from this?"
"Of course." If the sudden shift in tone had rattled the agent, she wasn't letting it on. Sifting through the neat stack of papers on her desk, she pulled out a thin brown file which she slid over to me. "Miss Shirley, you remember the female member of the Collective we took into custody? She has already been questioned by the local police. Unfortunately, I don't have the authority to lead such an interrogation, but I was present for it and I want you to have this transcript."
I perked up and began leafing through the folder.
"You may take that with you to read in peace," Mary told me. "But don't expect too much, lest you'll be sorely disappointed. The girl hardly said anything at all. The most helpful information she gave us was a name she kept referencing. Jewel. At first, we thought it was a sort of code word, but it seems to be what the other person she was with calls themself."
“Jewel,” I echoed.
“Sadly enough, that’s all we have. We’ve never provided our services to anyone of their physical description. There are a couple clues, but they don’t amount to anything helpful. There’s the fact that you met them at a convenience store with relatively high prices. Maybe I’m just grasping at straws, but that could indicate a cushy financial situation. On top of that, the store is rather far away from here, so they might be an out-of-towner. They also might be able to influence the way others perceive them, considering the way they seemed to hypnotize you in the woods merely by holding eye contact.”
“How come they couldn’t do anything to Frank Preston?”
Mary Markov twinkled at me. “They couldn’t? Huh. That rather intrigues the philosopher in me. Jewel works through eye contact and it is said that the eyes are the window to the soul.” She cocked her head at me.
“Are you saying Blondie doesn’t have a soul?” Eli asked, raising a skeptical brow. “Is this one of those Plato-Schopenhauer-whatevers?”
The newsreader shrugged artfully, watching my reaction. “We could discuss this for hours on end. I only meant to draw attention to the implied distinction between an organically born entity and a being who was originally an inanimate object.”
“I beg your pardon?” I said slowly.
“Oh, nevermind; that’s neither here nor there.” Her tone told me that she did, in fact, consider it to be both here and there. Not wanting to go further into this with her, I made a mental note to ask Frankie later.
“There’s more,” I added, trying to gently prepare her for what I was about to say. “I want to get Kit Sutton back.”
Mary’s lips thinned. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t mean for the town to get flooded in the process. I think we can find a solution to help her, if we work together. I’m convinced we can figure something out, but I don’t believe in abandoning her anymore. Which is essentially what we’re doing if we leave her to her fate.”
“You do realize what you’re asking of me? Your former roommate isn’t some kind of minor water spirit. Her father appears to hold tremendous power over the seas, or at the very least our part of it. He has countless similarly dangerous individuals at his service so he might be considered a ruler of sorts, if not a deity.”
“So Kit’s the little mermaid, basically?” Elijah asked, equal parts joking and genuinely intrigued.
Mary grinned an actual, amused grin. “I must ask you to take this seriously, Mr Carter.”
“I am!” he chuckled, raising his hands. “I swear.”
“Anyways, Miss Shirley, the point you make is an individualistic one, but I see why you’re invested in the girl’s fate. I want to help, I do… But we need to proceed with caution. If you can suggest to me some kind of sensible approach, then I’ll do what I can. That’s all the promises I can make at the moment.”
I thanked her and got up, Eli following me as I headed for the door. “Miss Shirley,” Mary called out and I stopped, turning back around to face her. “If you like my style, we could perhaps meet up to go shopping sometime? I could show you some quality stores. It wouldn’t be anytime soon since I’m currently swamped, but I figure—well, just in case you might like to.”
I nodded. “That sounds pleasant enough.”
She smiled brightly and waved us out the door. “Excellent. I’ll be in touch.”
Back inside the car, I tossed the file onto the backseat to read later. “Would you like to go to the beach?” I suggested.
“Why not. Wait, is this for a stroll and ice cream or do you want to kickstart the mermaid-rescue-operation?”
“I can’t see why it shouldn’t be both,” I replied comfortably. “We’ll need to take your flashlight, though.”
"You know I don't like getting myself into trouble unless it's paid."
"Yes, but you also find me endearing and want to protect me from danger, which you can only do by accompanying me."
"You're a terrifying tentacle beast from another dimension. I don't know that I'm all that scared for your safety," he grunted.
I gave him an affronted look. "You have now hurt my feelings."
"Have I?"
"Plenty, but I'll forgive you if you come with me."
Elijah Carter sighed deeply but started driving anyway. I let my arm dangle out of the open window, allowing the warming spring air to wash over my skin. The closer we got to the shore, the stronger the scent of salt mixed into the breeze. The cries of seagulls became audible over the sounds of the road and the streaming wind and was finally joined by the crashing of waves when we pulled into a parking spot and got out of the car. Taking along the heavy duty flashlight he always kept in the passenger seat footwell, I led Eli to the mouth of the cave, explaining what Nettie and I had seen along the way. He looked commendably calm, simply turning on the torch and entering alongside me.
The tunnels were just as damp, dim and quiet as the last time. Before long, we had reached the spacious canyon room with the lake at the bottom. "I want to go across and see if there's anything important in the rest of the grotto back there," I reminded him. "Please hold on to your bearings."
"I'm not repeating your mistakes," he replied gamely. "What do you think? This oughta be connected to the ocean somehow." He let the beam of the torch roam the mirror-like surface of the lake. It seemed almost deceptively quiet. My eyes followed the lengthy stone ledge. Eli stepped close, and after receiving a nod of approval, he grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me onto the rocky protrusion. I straightened up, instantly pressing my back against the wall. A wave of nausea hit me as I glanced at the water below. "Chill," Elijah muttered, climbing after me with ease. "Nothing will happen. You're not gonna fall."
I merely shook my head. "You didn't see what's down there."
"And I won't, because we'll be careful," he answered steadfastly.
I started walking, the warm light of the torch upon my back, illuminating the path ahead. The shelf narrowed as we reached the end. I swiftly clambered down, relieved to place my feet on wider, solid ground once more. Now looking over the lake from the other side, it had an entirely different feel to it. It seemed darker somehow, but also less big—I attributed it to the change in perspective. We were standing in a cramped little nook with two passageways leading off into separate directions behind us. Elijah Carter eyed them pensively. “Which do you reckon?”
I pursed my lips. “The right one. Because it’s right.”
“Makes sense.”
We proceeded into the passage, the tight space pushing us closer together. He had to duck his head, uncomfortably hunching his shoulders, and for once, I was grateful for my own short stature. The corridor seemed to go on forever. The darkness and silence created a feel of unnatural solitude, and for more than once, I got the distinct impression that I must have jumped dimensions again. It was as though Elijah and I were enclosed in some kind of bubble, cut off from everything outside; a place where time was a foreign concept and the only sun was our flashlight. Needless to say, I was distinctly uneasy. I allowed myself to lean back, brushing against Eli’s chest whenever I could. Eventually, I cleared my throat.
“Could you touch me?”
“What?”
“Just so I still know you’re there.”
His palm came to rest on my shoulder, his thumb digging into one of the tense, painfully rigid muscles of my upper back, forcing it to soften. “Good?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He hummed. “You’re scared.”
“Yes.”
“Me, too.”
This caused my resolve to falter. “Maybe we should turn around after all,” I said quietly. “Who knows how much longer—”
“Look.”
I perked up. Before us, the tunnel grew wider, opening into a large, spacious room. We picked up our pace, tackling the remaining distance in a light jog, and finally found ourselves standing in another hall. The beam of light traveled the floor and high walls, revealing a sight that took our breath away. We were standing in front of another lake, only slightly smaller than the last. The water glittered in violet hues and strange, pale plants climbed up the walls, some of them looking rather like starfish. Multiple rocky protrusions formed an almost complete bridge across its middle. With a bit of light climbing, we'd undoubtedly be able to get to the other side. Wordlessly, Elijah Carter swung himself up onto the platform closest to the edge of the water, pulling me up after him. The flashlight switched hands a couple times as we maneuvered ourselves along.
Soon, we reached the middle of the lake. I risked a glance at the water below. All was still and perfectly quiet. Eli was about to take on the next rock when suddenly, I felt something heavy and gooey drip onto my head from above. I flinched, then slowly pointed the torch up to the ceiling. My stomach dropped. My throat had turned paper-dry, and I frantically tugged on Eli’s arm. He tipped his head back, following my pointing finger. His eyes blew wide and his face fell.
There was a creature clinging to the high walls, its pale, enormous body describing a streamline curve as it pressed itself against the hollowed stone. The closest thing I can compare it to would be a sort of olm, except probably a hundred times larger. Its snout looked large enough to swallow either of us whole. It hung open, secreting a thick fluid that slowly dripped down to hit the rocks or create ripples upon the water. Its blind eyes seemed to be trained on us, and I could spot tiny, sharp teeth lining its maw. It wasn’t moving, not even an inch, but somehow, I knew it was aware of us.
I looked up at Elijah, the panic in his eyes mirroring mine. Both of us had freezed up mid-motion, not daring to take another step. My mind was running wild; I was thinking feverishly. We’d have to turn around for sure, but how? The olm was already highly alert, if we were to start scrambling back to solid ground, it would undoubtedly hear us straight away. Eli looked equal parts terrified and furious, and I could tell he was scolding himself for not thinking to check the entirety of the room before proceeding across the lake. I could understand the sentiment, we’d definitely made a grave mistake. I figured it had been the misleading beauty of the cave hall that had taken our edge off. Glancing over into the direction we’d come from, I found myself wishing to be back in the endless dark corridor. The entrance to the passage seemed miles away.
The olm lifted a three-toed foot, shifting its massive form to a lower spot on the wall. It was taking a tentative step towards us, extending its snout as its body bent into our direction. Elijah had grabbed onto my arm, his fingers clamping around it like a vice. He stayed silent and unmoving, but he held my gaze with clear, sharp eyes.
“Don’t move,” I mouthed, and he gave me a curt nod.
Slowly, I reached around to push my shirt out of the way of my unfurling tentacles. Elijah took a quiet step back to make room for my changing form, something of a resolute expression settling on his face. I opened my mouth, relieved when my teeth acted according to my will and elongated. I didn’t know to what extent I would be able to defend against this absolute giant of an amphibian, but at least it would give us a chance. I took a deep breath, trading glances with Eli once more before darting off to the side, bounding onto the platform next to our current one. Elijah followed suit, grabbing onto one of the limbs I extended to him for support. Despite the swiftness of our movements, we were anything but quiet, and the olm reacted in an instant. It slithered down from the wall, sinking into the lake below to make its way to the rocks we were standing on. As we headed for the next stone, it darted out of the water, splashing wildly as its snout breached the surface. Its jaws snapped at us, missing me by a mere foot as I jumped across the gap between the protrusions. Droplets flew as the creature dropped once more, but instead of retreating, it swam around the platform. Its massive, snake-like body was bobbing up and down as it circled us.
“Oh fuck,” Elijah breathed, his chest heaving. “Keep going! Move, move!”
I took a short running start, then flung myself onto the next rock, using my extra limbs to land safely. I then helped him cross again. The olm rose from the depths of the lake once again, and I lashed at it with one of my tentacles, hitting it on the snout and forcing it to dive underwater again. We kept working our way back towards the other side of the lake, slipping and sliding as we went. The water surrounding us seemed to hum with unrestrained energy, the white salamander’s tail whipping up waves and splashing around. We were finally getting close to solid ground again, or at least it looked like we were for a moment. That’s when the creature took a massive leap, draping itself over the final stepping stone, effectively blocking our path.
“Shit,” Eli hissed beside me as we came to a skittering halt.
I’d have to try and fight this thing. There was no way around it now. I clenched my sweat-laced palms into fist, trying to slow my rapid, shallow breaths. I can do this, I said to myself. All I’d have to do is send it back into the lake for long enough so we could run back into the tunnel. There was no way the olm would fit through the passage—once we were in there, we’d be relatively safe. I stared at the dripping, writhing animal; stared at its bared needle teeth, and the less hopeful, more realistic part of my brain told me that I would, indeed, probably not be able to do this. Just as I was contemplating the degree of our screwed-ness, an unseen someone called out from behind us. I didn’t understand a word they were saying, but I recognized the language, and more importantly, the voice.
It was bright as a bell, girlish but with a rough, warm edge. Even before I could turn to face her, I knew who it was.
The gigantic amphibian perked up at the sound, lowering its head and withdrawing into the murky depths with a splash. Elijah Carter let go of a long-held breath, dropping his shoulders before tensing up again, realization setting in. He shot me a look of utter disbelief.
“Wow,” the newcomer spoke up again, this time not in the tongue of the deep ones. “You two have to be actually crazy or something to show up here.”
X
1
2: deadbeat roommate
3: creepy crush
4: relocation
5: beach concert
6: First date
7: Temp work
8: roommate talk
9: a dismal worldview
10: warehouse
11: staircase
12: explanation
13: hurt
14: hospital
15: ocean
16: diner
17: government work
18: something in the caves
19: shopping cart

TL;DR:
>!Unyielding builds provide too great a benefit relative to their full health counterparts. This build type is so popular that it is killing build diversity and homogenizing the gameplay experience.
Unyielding builds should not be nerfed, but other build types (full health) should be made more viable.
In order to do this, the benefits that a point into a S.P.E.C.I.A.L. stat provides should suffer from diminishing returns, so that the first 15 points into the attribute provide a far greater benefit than any other point after the 15 point threshold is hit.
My suggested values would be multiplying the benefit each point in a S.P.E.C.I.A.L. provides by a factor of 1.5x the current value for the first 15 points in that attribute, and a factor of 0.5x the current value for any additional points in that attribute beyond the 15 point threshold. This would result in sizeable buff to the benefits that the first 15 points in a S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attribute provides, no noticeable difference at a value of exactly 30 points into a S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attribute, and a slight nerf to the benefits provided by S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attributes at values of 31+. 30 points was used as a breakeven point, as that value stands as the "standard maximum" for a build taking advantage of maxing out a S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attribute (15) and also maxing out their unyielding armor (+3 S.P.E.C.I.A.L. x 5 = 15).
Example:
Currently, every point in LCK increases crit refill by 1.5%.

• At 15 LCK, crit refill = 27.5% (15x1.5% + 5% base)
• At 30 LCK, crit refill = 50% (30x1.5% + 5% base)
• At 40 LCK, crit refill = 65% (40x1.5% + 5% base)

Under this proposition, the first 15 points in LCK will increase crit refill by 2.25%, and every point in LCK after the 15 point threshold will only increase crit refill by .75%.

• At 15 LCK, crit refill = 38.75% (15x2.25% + 5% base) [Net change of +11.25%]
• At 30 LCK, crit refill = 50% (15x2.25% + 15x.75% + 5% base) [No change]
• At 40 LCK, crit refill = 57.5% (15x2.25% + 25x.75% + 5% base) [Net change of -7.5%]

Though LCK is used as an example here, the same practice would be applied to all S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attributes with similar results.
As you can see from the example above, this proposed change will do wonders in bridging the gap between the viability of full health builds and their unyielding counterparts, without severely punishing the unyielding playstyle.!<
Observation:
Almost every end-game level player runs an unyielding build with 80% of their health bar being taken up by radiation.
Why is this happening?
Under the current S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attribute calculations, the unyielding armor effect provides far too great a QoL bonus to pass up. For those that do not know, someone wearing 5 pieces of unyielding armor at <20% health will receive a bonus of +15 points into every S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attribute except for endurance, effectively granting them the equivalent bonus granted by maxing out every single one of their S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attributes, that also stacks on top of their currently selected S.P.E.C.I.A.L. distribution.
Why is this problematic?
The bonuses these unyielding builds provide are problematic because they are nearly too great to pass up. This is evidenced by their extreme and over-popularity. When one particular build type takes over the "META", it is a surefire indicator that a rebalance is needed. Furthermore, when such a large population of the player base is running a single build type, it decreases build diversity and homogenizes gameplay, resulting in economical imbalance and, truth be told, a less interesting gameplay experience overall.
Are unyielding builds themselves the problem?
In the objective sense, no. These unyielding builds are not "breaking the game" by any means. No part of them feel like they are allotted too much of a power budget. While they do perform better in combat situations and pull higher damage numbers than their full health counterparts, this is offset by the risk of death inherent in being limited to <20% of their health bar. Additionally, these types of builds are not pulling damage numbers so great that they are allowing players to skip or break any of the game's mechanics in their entirety. The idea of "high risk, high reward" has always been intriguing, and the benefits provided are balanced out by the increase in risk.
If unyielding builds themselves are not overperforming, then what is the problem?
The problem lies within the inadequacy of every other build type available. The opportunity cost of running any build that is not unyielding, and thus not taking advantage of the effectively doubled max S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attributes is too great to consider running a non-unyielding build.
So what can be done?
The perfect solution would be to leave the unyielding power budget relatively unchanged, while at he same time increasing the power budget of their non-unyielding counterparts. This can easily be accomplished by introducing the concept of diminishing returns to S.P.E.C.I.A.L attributes.
What is the concept of diminishing returns?
Diminishing returns is the idea that the more you invest into something, you will receive less benefit from each additional increment of investment. This concept is widely used in video games to prevent imbalances in gameplay. Incorporating this idea into Fallout 76 and S.P.E.C.I.A.L attributes would be relatively simple, and can easily be demonstrated by example.
Lets take LCK and its affected stat, critical refill, as an example. The way the current system works is that 1 point spent in LCK increases critical refill by 1.5%. It does not matter how many points you have already invested in LCK, the benefit that one additional point in LCK provides will always be 1.5% critical refill.
Under the concept of diminishing returns, the first 10 points in LCK could increase critical refill by 1.5% per point. From 11 LCK onward, the benefit that each additional point in LCK provides could decrease to an improvement of only 1% critical refill. It could continue this way up until 20 LCK, and then from 21 LCK onward the benefit that each point in LCK provides could decrease to 0.5% crit refill, and so on.
This is a very simple example, but the concept is sound. Allowing earlier investments to be more impactful on gameplay than later investments bridges the gap between certain bulids by front-loading the power budget of an attribute, yet still promotes additional investment in that attribute to accumulate greater amounts of statistical power.
How do we balance this?
Because there is nothing inherently wrong with the unyielding build and it is not objectively overpowered, I believe this can serve as a good starting point for balance. Because full unyielding provides +15 S.P.E.C.I.A.L, and this can be stacked on top of the base max of 15 S.P.E.C.I.A.L, a total of 30 points into a S.P.E.C.I.A.L attribute should be targeted as balanced, with lesser amounts of S.P.E.C.I.A.L investment requiring a sizeable buff and greater amounts of S.P.E.C.I.A.L investment requiring a slight nerf. The absolute simplest way of doing this would be by simply taking half of the benefit provided by points 16-30 into a S.P.E.C.I.A.L attribute and incorporating it into the benefit provided by the first 15 points into a S.P.E.C.I.A.L attribute. In mathematical terms, it would mean multiplying the current benefit provided by the first 15 points in a S.P.E.C.I.A.L attribute by 1.5x, and multiplying the current benefit provided by any additional point after 15 in a S.P.E.C.I.A.L attribute by 0.5x.
Lets use the example of LCK and critical refill again.
Under the current system, every point in LCK increases critical refill by a static 1.5%, with 5% base at 0 LCK. Under this system, the following are certain LCK value thresholds and their corresponding critical refill value:

• At 15 LCK, crit refill = 27.5% (15x1.5% + 5% base)
• At 30 LCK, crit refill = 50% (30x1.5% + 5% base)
• At 40 LCK, crit refill = 65% (40x1.5% + 5% base)

Under the proposed system of diminishing returns, each of the first 15 points in LCK would increase critical refill by 2.25% (1.5x1.5%), and each additional point in LCK after the first 15 would increase critical refill by 0.75% (0.5x1.5%). The same base of 5% critical refill at 0 LCK exists. Under this system, the same LCK value thresholds and their corresponding critical refill values will be as follows:

• At 15 LCK, crit refill = 38.75% (15x2.25% + 5% base) [Net change of +11.25%]
• At 30 LCK, crit refill = 50% (15x2.25% + 15x.75% + 5% base) [No change]
• At 40 LCK, crit refill = 57.5% (15x2.25% + 25x.75% + 5% base) [Net change of -7.5%]

As you can see, there is no change whatsoever between the current system and the proposed system of diminishing S.P.E.C.I.A.L. returns at the exact LCK value of 30. This is the standard maximum S.P.E.C.I.A.L. value of an unyielding build that we determined earlier. For LCK values of less than 30, there would be a sizeable buff to critical refill, and conversely, for LCK values greater than 30, there is a slight nerf to critical refill.
What would the impact on gameplay be?
On paper, this change seems to do a good job at bringing non-unyielding builds a bit more up to speed with their unyielding counterparts. The power gap between the two standard maximums (15 for non-unyielding, and 30 for unyielding) has dropped considerably, from a difference of 22.5% critical refill to a difference of only 11.25% critical refill. This accomplishes exactly what we intended. But how does this change actually affect in-game mechanics?
On a META build running critical savvy, a threshold of 27.5% critical refill is required to crit once every 3 shots, and a threshold of 55% critical refill is required to crit once every other shot.
Under the current system, 15 LCK is required to crit once every 3 shots, while under the new system only 10 LCK is required to meet this threshold. This helps out non-unyielding builds a lot.
Similarly, under the current system, 34 LCK is required to crit once every other shot, or 24 LCK with a 15 crit refill legendary weapon equipped. Under the proposed system, 37 LCK is required to crit once every other shot, or only 17 LCK with a 15 crit refill legendary weapon equipped. At this threshold, again full health builds are buffed (requiring only 17 LCK + crit refill legendary vs 24 LCK + crit refill legendary) with unyielding builds receiving only a slight nerf (requiring 37 LCK vs 34 LCK).
This is a lot more balanced, and goes far to close the gap between unyielding and non-unyielding builds. Although the example used was examining the LCK S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attribute, the same would be applied to all S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attributes with similar results.
Conclusion:
Adopting this system of diminishing S.P.E.C.I.A.L. returned, or a system like it, would go leaps and bounds toward closing the gap between unyielding builds and their non-unyielding counterparts, without severely nerfing the unyielding playstyle. If this change is implemented, build types of all varieties would receive an increase in viability, which would promote build diversity and strengthen the game. Additionally, this change will still leave room for unyielding builds as a niche build for min-maxers who want to maximize their stats to their fullest potential. The results of the change would surely be a decrease, but not complete elimination, of the unyielding player base and an increase in full health builds. I believe this to be a very easy and practical solution to one of the games biggest points of imbalance, but I am eager to hear from others what they think as well.
​
Feel free to comment, criticize, critique, or troll as you see fit.

I am 30F. I have a history of working in customer service and light supply chain. I have a BA in Communications.
When I picked my degree I was excited to do work like marketing, technical writing, grant writing, communications, editing, etc. I graduated 2020 and the job market was awful and I didn’t find anything, got laid off my customer service job, accepted a sales support job,m that quickly turned into a supply chain support job, and I did that for two years. I panicked as I hit financial hardship and applied to many jobs and landed one as a supply chain support rep/customer ops coordinator. It’s basically the same job I did at my first company but with better tools. They promised me a future in supply chain, which I thought I wanted because it made sense with my progression, but now I’m not sure.
All I want out of a job is nice pay and a good work life balance. I will work hard all day but I’d prefer to leave work at work. I’m naturally introverted and get drained around too many others and don’t enjoy a lot of small talk. I’m very quiet and thoughtful as well as detail oriented and organized.
I’ve thought up so many careers: -salesforce administrator -UX designer -business analyst -project manager -customer service manager -marketing -data analyst
I do prefer office work I believe, I don’t ever want to be on my feet for 40 hours again. Customer service can be stressful, though, constantly dealing with fires.
I need to get my head on straight and pick a direction. I don’t have any technical skills besides MO, SAP, and JDE mostly.

One rainy evening Leon was sitting in his living room watching T.V. and finished eating dinner when all of a sudden three light taps can be heard from the front door surprisingly enough was loud to be heard over the show he was watching. Leon went to check the door and answered,
"Hello? Anyone one there?"
seeing no one was there Leon suspected that it the wind from the rain blew something against his door. Leon was about to close the door but a soft voice could be heard and caught his attention, Leon looks down on his porch and there was a female fluffy.
"P...pwease..nice cough mistuh.."
then the mare lost consciousness and collapsed where she stood, Leon looked down at the light brown fluffy mare pegasus with a dark brown mane and tail with green eyes. This fluffy mare look battered and broken with a blackened eye, bloody nose, few missing teeth noticably in the top front, half of it's left ear was torn off, almost skin and bones as if it hasn't eaten in days with a light stench of feces.
Leon look upon the beaten up mare as he noticed a tiny purple fluffy foal asleep on the mare's back, Leon was surprised how everything this mare has been through the foal was still asleep. Leon thought about what he should do because he didn't care much for Fluffies in general but he did grow to like them at least a little bit anyway, as Leon thought it over he decided to let the mare and her foal stay overnight out the rain until morning once then he can give them to a shelter at least there the fluffies can have a place to call home.
Leon knelt down over the mare and foal to gently pick them up until a chubby green fur unicorn stallion fluffy with a red mane and tail appeared out of the dark. As the stallion approached them he spoke,
"Dummeh Hooman go 'way, nu sab dummeh poopie mawe! Dat dummeh poopie onwy nee foweba sweepies."
Leon has now turned his attention to the stallion which most likely is a smarty given how arrogant it is and called everyone a dummy. Looking at the smarty and noticed a bit of blood and bits of brown fur most likely matching the beaten mare between them. Standing up Leon stepped forward and has put himself between the smarty and the mare.
"I suppose it was you who did this to her?"
Leon said as he stood towering over the smarty with his fist clinched. The smarty who is now trying to put up a brave facade by standing his ground, sticking out his chest and puffing up his cheeks but truly scared by the giant before him.
"Hmph, s..smawty nu cawe, dummeh poopie mawe bewong in smawty hewd an' aww da dummeh poopie fwuffy in smawty's hewd onwy num poopies an' gib wickie cweanies to poopie pwace fo' da oda pretty fwuffies in hewd bu',"
The smarty raises his hoof and points it at the mare behind Leon.
"Dis dummeh hab babbehs an poopie fwuffy nu nee babbeh."
Leon took a deep breath in and slowly exhale to calm himself then he asked.
"Well if she isn't suppose to have babies then why not kick her out the herd instead of beating her to death and pursuing her to finish the job?"
The smarty was quiet for a few seconds as if he was thinking of an answer.
"Fine, smawty teww da truth. Ou' see smawty hab speciaw fwed back wif hewd name Pwum an' Pwum awweady hab tummeh babbeh by smawty bu' smawty wan' enfie so smawty gib enfie an' hab good feews wif poopie mawe bu' Pwum nu can find out."
Leon then realizes what this is all about then slightly chuckles at the fact that a male fluffy don't want to be caught cheating with another female especially a brown one. The smarty spoke as if he was irritated.
"Nu waff, wet smawty gib poopie mawe foweba sweepies NAO!"
Leon took a step forward with a firm stomp toward the smarty and the smarty tumbling backwards onto it's side.
"You do NOT raise your voice at me, who do you think you are? In fact get off of my porch, get out of my yard and get out of my sight!"
The smarty picked himself up and snorted as he lowered his head.
"Dats it, smawty nao gib ou' worstest huwties wif bestest hown an' den gib ou' foweba sweepies!"
The smarty charged toward the human only to ram his horn into Leon's left shin which barely broke skin followed by repeated strikes with his front hooves and after 10 to 15 hits the fat smarty seems to be out of breath then the smarty looks up at Leon with a smug look on his face and with a smirk for a smile but that expression on the smarty's face quickly changed to disappointed confusion as he realizes that the human isn't phased at all, not even a little bit.
"Ha! Tickles and now I'm gonna take this left foot here and break your face with it"
Leon said with a devilish smile then he pats his left thigh twice indicating he was about to kick the smarty. With a quick jump to the right the smarty out of the way before Leon could make a move.
"Dummeh hooman is dummeh f...SCREEEEEEEE"
the smarty felt a heavy force under of his chin and was sent flying nearly half way across the yard with a trail of shit following after. Leon placing his right leg down started to walk over to the smarty and surprisingly the smarty picked himself up after a kick like that but then again Leon was holding back..way back.
"Huhuhu..Ou' saf ou' kif fwuwwy wif weft fuuf."
The smarty could barely speak now because of a swollen and bloody mouth and nose, a chipped tooth and the tip of it's tongue is gone most likely biting down on it when the kick was delivered.
" You calling me a liar?"
With his left leg Leon kicked the smarty again but this time at slightly more force directly into the middle of the smarty's face causing it to completely fly out the yard and into the middle of the street.
The smarty laid there in a small pool of blood for a minute until it struggled to stand up back on it's hooves then the smarty started to staggering away down the street crying
"Huhuhuhu.."
and possibly back to it's herd but once it stepped into a nearby street light along with a well timed flash of lighting the illuminated smarty turned it's head to Leon showing it's face that's so mutilated that it's damn near impossible to know if there's a face there anymore. Leon keep watching the smarty stagger away further and further down the street until there was no sight of him.
Walking back to his porch Leon went to check on the mare and her foal, Leon picked up the mare who was cool to the touch ever so gently as the foal still asleep in it's mother's back and brought them inside. Leon placed the mare and foal on a empty counter space in the kitchen but just then Leon noticed how the mare's vibrant green eyes are now a faded milky white as both pupils are nearly rolled in the back of it head in different directions and upon further inspection he ran his hand against the mare's fur noticed the mare's fluff is really thin that multiple deep purple and black bruises can be easily seen all over it's body.She was dead for a little time now but how could she, she was just unconscious..or was she? then at that moment Leon realized that the mare must have died when she collapsed earlier.
Just then the young foal began to wake up as it began to make chirps and peeps calling out for it's mother it'll never get to know and love. Leon gently picked up the foal into his rough but gentle hands and noticed it was female. The foal start to quiet down as it held onto Leon's thumb trying to suckle for some milk. The foal's eyes were still closed but began to slightly open more and more with each passing second
"Sigh Since I went through all of this trouble to just save your life then I guess I'll take care of you then."
Leon spoked to the young foal as it's eyes fully open for the first time and gazing at the human before her.
"D..daddeh."
The foal spoke it's first words with a smile on her face as it's tail wags rapidly.
"Yeah..I'm ahem your dad now but you'll need a name too,"
Leon looks over at his vase of flowers his cousin sent to him from Japan.
"Your name will be Wisteria."

Hello again!
This one took longer to get out, not because it was a harder chapter for me to write or anything like that, but because I forgot to post and was busy writing the main story anyways. Challenge me on that, I dare you.
Nothing else really to say. Join the discord.
Previous/Main/Next/Discord!
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Fries dragged himself towards the LZs, hoping that someone had somehow waited for him. He could see the area where the dropship had been landed and the troops gathered by the amount of insectoid bodies littering the area. Among them, he could see a shattered CEVA helmet on the ground, the operator or suit nowhere nearby.
He approached slowly, keeping his rifle up and trained on the bodies if they got back up. He went straight for the helmet, picking it up and inspecting it once he reached it. There was a hole in the faceplate and no exit wound, though there was blood, skull fragmentation, and brain matter on both the back of the helmet and faceplate.
“Shit…” Fries muttered, shaking his head as he set the helmet down. He was about to check the area more when his audio sensors picked up hissing in the air.
Fries dove for cover behind the body of one of the insectoids, being sure to cover the breach in his suit. While the mechanical pressurization of the main suit hadn’t been compromised, a blast to the flesh could still prove fatal to the ODST.
He waited for an impact that never came, and instead watched as two Kxa’vara transports flew overhead.
“Well, that ain’t somethin’ we were briefed on…” He mused to himself, standing up and starting to run in the direction he had watched the craft go in. He slung his rifle onto his back and turned up the mechanical assistance in the suit, allowing him to run at an incredible speed for an incredibly long period of time.
He followed in the direction of the craft for what felt like an hour, the suit feeding him nearly pure oxygen to continue at the pace he was at, until he suddenly stopped upon seeing where the two craft were hovering. In the side of a rock face a kilometer or two out that extended around 150 feet into there air, he could make out clay and rock “houses” either carved out of the rock or built up with the clay. He used the suit’s zoom function to scope the place out. Outside of the houses though, Fries couldn’t see anybody or anything. The two ships hovered above it, but there was nothing moving around.
Finally thinking he had enough information, Fries attached a suppressor to his rifle and started moving forward. He had barely gotten four steps forward when he saw more of the insectoid creatures. They were out at the “houses” trying to climb up and reach the dropship. He could make out the tracings of kinetic-plasma fire. He started running towards the “town” before he noticed six or so of the bugs coming towards him.
Without hesitation this time, he raised his rifle and cut them apart, their hard carapaces completely ineffective against the armor-penetrating 4.5x49mm rounds from the ODST’s weapon. He continued forward, reloading his rifle and checking his underbarrel launcher for a round. He wasn’t sure what his plan was, but it involved something with a Kxa’vara ship.
He had run about 100 meters before the next batch of bugs came at him, this time much closer than beforehand. The first one immediately lunged at him and caught his right arm’s utility spike to the skull, going limp as soon as he removed the spike from the skull. The next two creatures caught .388 SP pistol rounds to their heads as they approached, Fries opting to leave his rifle for later engagements. The last one also jumped at him, but was caught by the ODST mid air, slammed onto the ground, and had its head stomped in by a boot.
Fries exhaled sharply while looking at his handiwork before quickly running off in the same direction again, this time at a much faster pace than before. It only took him a few minutes to be within 200 meters of the two craft, which had seemingly not noticed him, despite the ever-growing horde of bugs behind him.
It looked as if there was a closed entrance to the “town”, mainly as there was a large gate surrounded by twenty-foot rock faces. He quickly looked behind him to see where the horde was before he gritted his teeth and jumped, firing his jumpjets as he leapt up. He extended his spike and jammed it into the wall, settling his feet into cracks and divots before pushing off again and firing the jumpjets again. He repeated this process a few times before making it to the top and climbing up to look at the situation.
The two transports were hovering about forty meters away, above the residence area and dumping fire into the bugs below them. He could see right away that Kinetic-Plasma was much less useful against the bugs than his bullets, but they also had infinitely more bullets to fire than he did.
With some semblance of a plan starting to come together in his head, he pulled a disruptor grenade off of his kit and armed it, having the suit start to calculate where he’d have to throw it to hit the first ship. As soon as it was locked in, the suit took complete control over his arm, waiting for Fries’ signal.
He let the suit do its thing and watched as the disruptor grenade flew through the air towards the craft. He regained control of his arm and brought his rifle up, bringing his right arm to the trigger of the underbarrel launcher. As soon as he watched the grenade flash away the enemy’s shields, he fired a 40mm grenade at the gravitational stabilizer he could see. The side of the craft was engulfed in smoke as the HEDP round exploded on contact with the ship’s hull.
Almost immediately, the ship listed to the side, unable to maintain attitude control from the loss of the stabilizer. Fries immediately switched targets and began thinking of what to do for the other transport. His rangefinder gave the range as 43 meters, and Fries’ mind immediately went to a “solution”.
He had another 71 meters per second of fuel left, around eight seconds of hover time in this gravity, or just around enough to get him into the craft.
Taking a deep breath, Fries took a runup before jumping off the ledge he was on and fired the jumpjets, accelerating himself towards the transport. He knew that the energy shields would stop bullets, but they wouldn’t stop him. He extended his utility spike and cranked the arm back, preparing to jam it into the ship’s hull. As soon as he hit the side, he stabbed his arm in, the spike piercing all the way through until his fist hit the craft. He quickly pulled his handgun out and aimed towards the opened door to his right. Surprisingly, nobody came to look at him, as they were too surprised to watch their comrades’ craft go down.
Without warning, the ship tilted over and flew over to support the downed aircraft as insectoid creatures swarmed towards it. Fries sank in closer to the craft as they moved, trying to make sure he was able to stay onboard. It quickly leveled out over the wreck, the gunners at the doors opening up on the approaching horde. The ODST spared no time and crawled along the hull towards the door, the distance seeming an incredibly long 6 feet away. Using his spike and the “hand”holds on the craft, he made it to a point where he could leave his left arm spiked in and still lean into the cabin.
There were two Vakasi on mounted guns firing out of the door opposite him. In the cockpit, a Volaxin and Jokall sat at the sticks, the latter’s scaled, bat-like wings stopping him from seeing further in. He had just drawn his handgun to shoot at the two gunners when he heard one of the pilots yell out, his shields immediately flaring up as a few rounds from the Volaxin’s KP handgun impacted him.
Recognizing the immediate threat, Fries put a bullet into the skull of the pilot. He took note of the bullet tearing its way through his skull and out the glass cockpit as he leaned in further, using the remaining fuel in his jumpjets to give him enough force to remove his left arm from the hull and push into the cabin.
Neither of the two Vakasi had enough time to turn around and raise their weapons before Fries had kicked the first one out, immediately turning on the other one and putting a bullet into his chest/neck carapace. His shields flared again as another round struck him. He quickly whipped around, ducking to the side and raising his pistol towards the cockpit.
The HUD quickly flashed a 46% warning as a few more KP rounds passed nearby the ODST, initiating the shield sensors.
He fired a few rounds at where he assumed the Jokall was, the bullets failing to penetrate the metal wall separating the cabin from the cockpit. Knowing that neither of them could currently shoot each other with the weapons they had out without coming through the door gap, he holstered his pistol and raised his rifle, aiming at the same spot on the metal wall as before. He fired six times into it, knowing he had successfully penetrated the wall when the ship suddenly listed forward. Quickly moving into the cockpit, he pulled the nearest body away from the controls and off their chair, immediately putting himself in control.
Unlike what he was hoping for, it wasn’t controlled by a joystick, but instead a floating sphere. It had holes in it like a bowling ball and glowing lines snaking across it, the ODST able to see no reason for them other than aesthetic purposes.
He grabbed onto the sphere and pulled back, failing to do anything other than partially pull the sphere out of the “gravity track” it was in. He attempted to pull up by rotating the ball towards himself, immediately causing the craft to snap its nose up to almost the exact degree he had just rotated the sphere to at incredible speeds.
He let out a small yelp as he started to rapidly lose altitude, the engines seemingly powered off suddenly.
He rotated the ball again, trying to level the craft out, but wound up tilting too far to the side. The sudden shift caused him to lose grip on the ball and brush one of the lines on it. The craft immediately accelerated towards where the nose was pointing; just below the horizon. He grabbed hold of the ball again, now somewhat having an idea of what to do.
He was about to start angling the craft when the starboard side caught something and threw him out of the seat, twisting the craft out of position and sending it to the ground. Fries had already curled himself into a ball as much as the ECS would allow, the suit’s thick armor keeping him from getting as tight as he wanted to be.
He uncurled and stood before the craft had even come to a stop, trying to find a good standing position to fight from while standing on the side of the glass canopy of the transport. Clearly, the craft had stayed on its side during the crash. He brought his rifle to his shoulder and started moving towards the door.
Almost immediately he could hear the skittering of legs on metal, and two of the smaller insectoids dropped into the cabin. Wasting no time, he brought the rifle up and shot them, moving out of the cockpit and pulling himself out of the cabin and on top of the craft.
He looked around and froze up, immediately seeing that the craft was surrounded by insectoids. In front of him, two large bugs looked at him. They towered above everything else, being an easy 12 feet in height.
While he was trying to think of his next course of action, he realized that the bugs were not advancing on him. They were all holding around 30 meters out from the wreck.
“Well? Come on then!” He yelled out, putting a fresh magazine into his rifle.
Still, the creatures didn’t move. He kept his eyes on the big ones, waiting to see if they would make the first move.
“Computer, recharge shielding. Prepare to use shields to counter direct hand-to-hand impacts.” He whispered in his helmet, using the time they were paused to ready himself for one final engagement.
He almost opened fire as he saw the two big creatures shift. However, they moved off to the side instead of towards him, though none of the smaller ones did anything. He was trying to gauge what they were doing when he noticed a creature, one he would hesitate to call “humanoid” but definitely bipedal, tentatively approaching past the big creatures.
It was still some thirty meters away when the ODST zeroed his rifle onto it. He restrained himself from pulling the trigger, but instead used his suit’s imaging systems to get a better look at the creature.
Surprisingly, it was very familiar in a vague part of his mind. Though he was sure he hadn’t seen one of these before, something told him that it was very familiar.
“Computer… bring up helmetcam footage of March 27th, 23:47…” He muttered, trying to pay attention to both the creatures around him and the HUD footage.
He watched through the footage, still keeping his rifle on the slowly approaching creature. He had nearly given up on finding anything and shutting off the video when he noticed something that again nearly made him shoot the creature.
He watched as he entered Zeta Zero, the ship’s main meltdown runaway room, where four CEVA Marines were guarding the door, two inside and two outside. A scientist and a medical officer were also inside, also wearing EVA suits. In the middle of the room, strapped down to a medical bed with metal clamps, was the empath.
The empath was a bit different from the creature now only 20 meters away, but they were most certainly the same creature.

Last month's progress report: https://www.reddit.com/juststart/comments/1335hr1/month_1_ish_progress_report/
Last month's goals for this month:

• Have a total of 28 posts published (using proper keyword phrase research for any and all new ones)
  
• Continue to see upward trend with impression in GSC
  
• Acquire at least 1 new backlink for 3 different pages
  

tldr; updated a few previous articles, posted 14 new articles, Amazon commissions starting to come in, things have started heating up towards the end of May
Backstory and Learnings:
Following from last month, I was in the middle of removing Ezoic from my site. I fully finished that up a day or two after I posted my first month's progress report. That was my main priority and then I started using my SemRUSH trial to its full advantage. I began collecting keywords to start writing articles and also started researching keywords for my previous articles that I just wrote on a whim, trying to make them more viable. As of the middle of May, most of views were coming from 2 articles, with a view here and there for other miscellaneous articles as well.
I really liked SemRUSH, but for right now, and with my site's infancy, I can't justify continuing with the service. It is for sure something I will circle back to in the future, though. Getting back to the articles, I began writing. I've noticed a pattern with myself, I'll go 5-6 days without writing and then all of a sudden, crank out handful in succession. 3 of the articles from the first batch I wrote near the beginning of May are starting to show promise. I have 1 article with 5 clicks, another with 24 clicks and the last one with 38 clicks. The rest of the articles are duds or are still cooking, I suppose.
I have also noticed some of my articles from the initial 10 I launched my site with are starting to get a bit of attention as well. The 2 articles I mentioned in the first paragraph that account for my most views are part of this initial 10 group. And to be fair, that does make sense, since they have been live the longest and have had (albeit minimal) time to age. I have a mixed feeling of joy and worry. I know that SEO and all of that is a waiting game, but I can't help but wonder and worry about my non-successful posts.
In terms of hitting my goals defined last month for this month, I can say I was able to accomplish them, for the most part. I wanted to make reasonable goals for myself that could actually be attained. I aimed for upping my post count from 18 at the end of April to having 28 at the end of May. In total, I finished May with 32 total published posts. I feel good about the upward trends I am seeing in GA, GSC and even Bing (screenshots below). I did acquire a few new backlinks as well, but nothing too special. Mainly just forum/community posts. I need to do some outreach and plan to start at least trying in the near future. In total, according to GSC, I have 56 external links from 5 different domains. Bing shows 9 total backlinks from 4 referring domains. Interestingly, Bing has a few domains Google does not have. Dunno what's up with that.
On to monetization. As mentioned in last month's progress report, I was a bit too hasty with ad placement. I was kinda feeling a bit bummed out by signing up for Amazon Associates so soon, but I think that was the right call. I have made, what looks like, 9 total sales, including the 1st one mentioned last month in April. I believe I did get a bit lucky, though. I had one sale where someone purchased a $600 item that gave me nearly $13 USD in commission. As exciting as that is, that was not one of the items I have on my site. But hey, it still counts, so yeah. Taking that one away, I still did pretty good IMO with $8+ USD in May. And I officially got the approval email from Amazon as well, which was really neat to see.
I am having some struggles with Social Media and have all but given up (for now) with the exception being Pinterest. I have been creating unique images and creating pins for every new article I write and posting them to Pinterest. Not seeing much from it though. According to GA, I have gotten 3 users and 4 sessions from Pinterest since going live on March 26th. I have been trying to research a bit and it seems like Pinterest is like Google in that the pins need time age as well. Hopefully, with enough determination and consistent posting, I will see some more traffic come from Pinterest.
Numbers:

• Google Site Search
  
• Bing
  
• Google Analytics
  
• Amazon Associates
  

I am a bit confused why so much of my traffic is coming from direct. I noticed I am starting to get impression on GSC under the 'Discover' button, but only 2 clicks so far from it. So that can't be it. Aside from the huge spike at the end of may (which was all direct and I still haven't figured out why), I am still getting anywhere from 3-7 sources as direct per day. I whitelisted my IP address in GA, but my traffic is still coming through. But to combat that, I am using private mode in FF since GA is blocked.
Things I am Investigating:

• Before, whenever I posted a new article, I could find my article eventually on Google 24-48 hours later using the keyword I am targeting. Sometimes it would be on like page 20, but I could at least find it. Lately though, any new article I post does not come up at all on Google. They are indexed, but nothing from my site is showing for the keyword.
  
• I am also having trouble with articles that are in the same genre, but not showing up for the correct keywords in Google. For example:
  

Keyword: borderlands legendary loot guide Page: https://www.mydomain.com/borderlands-legendary-loot Ranks # 3 for keyword
Keyword: borderlands rare loot guide Page: https://www.mydomain.com/borderlands-rare-loot Does not rank (I cannot find this page unless I type the URL into Google), Legendary page ranks # 15 for Rare keyword
Keyword: borderlands uncommon loot guide Page: https://www.mydomain.com/borderlands-uncommon-loot Just created, nothing is ranking for this keyword yet

• I am looking into using CloudFlare as a CDN for my site. I have a caching plugin, and that is working fine, but I am on a shared hosting account. A few times this past month my site has gone done because of another user's actions, which is obviously not good

This Month's Goals:

• I want to focus on fixing/bettering my previously posted articles, so I am only shooting for a total of 38 published posts by the end of June
  
• Start doing 'cold-call' backlink outreach - offer to create posts for other folk's blogs in exchange for a backlink
  

Accomplishments:

• Got my first legit comment on an article
  
• Achieved over 300 clicks from Google in May
  
• Starting to see some positive movement on Bing
  

Am I in the wrong!
Am I in the wrong?
Hi, so basically three years ago, I was sexually assaulted by a rich capitalist. He never directly apologized to me, he just wrote some half ss apology to this girl who stood up for me. I took the sceeenshots of the “apology” the screenshots of us communicating as well and made a whole twitter thread of how he abused me. I felt violated, humiliated helpless and extremely angry. My abuser helps the rich and richer and make the poor get poorer. This rich girl hated my guts for some reason and basically wanted to “sue” me (she wanted my money) so she dates rich guys whom she refers to as “assets” and sets girls up with her “assets” so her boyfriend can steal financial resources from their families and give it to the rich girl. What my abuser does is he preys on working class immigrant girls stalks where their dad works, buys out companies, lays off employees and basically gets their dad to lose their job steals their salary to give it to the rich and coerces poor girls to have sx with him. He sexually harasses them and sometimes even assaults them (like he did to me) this made me feel anger and rage because of how unjust it is, how unfair it is and how no one knows about the oppressive disgusting techniques this man uses to oppress working class immigrant families. I had a raging episode and followed people he was associated with on instagram and started exposed him for what he is… I said he’s a pdo, rpist, abuser, classist and racist. I said many more things about him and made “alarming allegations against him” apparently, I just continued to talk about him. Until i started getting responses, one girl that said she was just an acquaintance with him told me she doesn’t know him that well and that she read the tweets and was like “wtf” and blocked him on everything after she found out. The next day, one of my abusers friends reached out to on Linkedin and Twitter me saying that he’s concerned for his friend (my abuser) telling me that I’ve been actively reaching out to people in his circles etc. I’ll share the convo.
Friend: Hello P- recently spoke to a friend of mine who told me about some alarming allegations that were made against him. I'm messaging here independent of T*** and solely as a concerned friend of his. I'm sorry to hear that you felt the way you did. After T*** was shaken up and told me about the situation and after reading the tweets that i believe you published i confronted T***. I'm reaching out because he mentioned that you were still messaging people around him about what happened and I just wanted to know what you're seeking to accomplish here. I'm honestly so sorry that you felt the way you did and I just am concerned about my friend and looking to seek a resolution to this. J Also sent this on Linkedin earlier
Me: Hey, how did you find me?
Friend: When i confronted him about it - he told me your name
Me: and why did you message me? Are you a friend of his? What did they say about me?
Friend: lam a friend of his and he reached out to me for advice. I'm coming here only with good intentions - not trying to stir the pot or anything
Friend: He mentioned a burner Twitter account that makes some accusations about him and has some screenshots of convos between you. Also just want to be very clear
Friend: - l'm not here to dispute facts or anything Just concerned for my friend and wanted to reach out to have a conversation - that's all
Me: Okay well yeah l've been trying to get those tweets down but been having a hard time getting them down
Friend: And thats much appreciated - I know that was a big concern of his. He mentioned that you were like actively reaching out to people in his circle and that shook him up a bit
Friend: And i just wanted to see what your intention here was
Friend: [just don't want things to escalate any further - for everyone's well being and stepping in to see if there's just anything that I can either help with or do to make this all end
Friend: I'm happy to convey any message you want to send him or anything like that
Though this guy does seem friendly, I don’t trust him because i don’t know him or what he’s capable of. His bio also mentions that he’s in law… so i didn’t get that best vibes from him, so am i the asshole?

Last month's progress report: https://www.reddit.com/juststart/comments/1335hr1/month_1_ish_progress_report/
Last month's goals for this month:

• Have a total of 28 posts published (using proper keyword phrase research for any and all new ones)
  
• Continue to see upward trend with impression in GSC
  
• Acquire at least 1 new backlink for 3 different pages
  

tldr; updated a few previous articles, posted 14 new articles, Amazon commissions starting to come in, things have started heating up towards the end of May
Backstory and Learnings:
Following from last month, I was in the middle of removing Ezoic from my site. I fully finished that up a day or two after I posted my first month's progress report. That was my main priority and then I started using my SemRUSH trial to its full advantage. I began collecting keywords to start writing articles and also started researching keywords for my previous articles that I just wrote on a whim, trying to make them more viable. As of the middle of May, most of views were coming from 2 articles, with a view here and there for other miscellaneous articles as well.
I really liked SemRUSH, but for right now, and with my site's infancy, I can't justify continuing with the service. It is for sure something I will circle back to in the future, though. Getting back to the articles, I began writing. I've noticed a pattern with myself, I'll go 5-6 days without writing and then all of a sudden, crank out handful in succession. 3 of the articles from the first batch I wrote near the beginning of May are starting to show promise. I have 1 article with 5 clicks, another with 24 clicks and the last one with 38 clicks. The rest of the articles are duds or are still cooking, I suppose.
I have also noticed some of my articles from the initial 10 I launched my site with are starting to get a bit of attention as well. The 2 articles I mentioned in the first paragraph that account for my most views are part of this initial 10 group. And to be fair, that does make sense, since they have been live the longest and have had (albeit minimal) time to age. I have a mixed feeling of joy and worry. I know that SEO and all of that is a waiting game, but I can't help but wonder and worry about my non-successful posts.
In terms of hitting my goals defined last month for this month, I can say I was able to accomplish them, for the most part. I wanted to make reasonable goals for myself that could actually be attained. I aimed for upping my post count from 18 at the end of April to having 28 at the end of May. In total, I finished May with 32 total published posts. I feel good about the upward trends I am seeing in GA, GSC and even Bing (screenshots below). I did acquire a few new backlinks as well, but nothing too special. Mainly just forum/community posts. I need to do some outreach and plan to start at least trying in the near future. In total, according to GSC, I have 56 external links from 5 different domains. Bing shows 9 total backlinks from 4 referring domains. Interestingly, Bing has a few domains Google does not have. Dunno what's up with that.
On to monetization. As mentioned in last month's progress report, I was a bit too hasty with ad placement. I was kinda feeling a bit bummed out by signing up for Amazon Associates so soon, but I think that was the right call. I have made, what looks like, 9 total sales, including the 1st one mentioned last month in April. I believe I did get a bit lucky, though. I had one sale where someone purchased a $600 item that gave me nearly $13 USD in commission. As exciting as that is, that was not one of the items I have on my site. But hey, it still counts, so yeah. Taking that one away, I still did pretty good IMO with $8+ USD in May. And I officially got the approval email from Amazon as well, which was really neat to see.
I am having some struggles with Social Media and have all but given up (for now) with the exception being Pinterest. I have been creating unique images and creating pins for every new article I write and posting them to Pinterest. Not seeing much from it though. According to GA, I have gotten 3 users and 4 sessions from Pinterest since going live on March 26th. I have been trying to research a bit and it seems like Pinterest is like Google in that the pins need time age as well. Hopefully, with enough determination and consistent posting, I will see some more traffic come from Pinterest.
Numbers:

• Google Site Search
  
• Bing
  
• Google Analytics
  
• Amazon Associates
  

I am a bit confused why so much of my traffic is coming from direct. I noticed I am starting to get impression on GSC under the 'Discover' button, but only 2 clicks so far from it. So that can't be it. Aside from the huge spike at the end of may (which was all direct and I still haven't figured out why), I am still getting anywhere from 3-7 sources as direct per day. I whitelisted my IP address in GA, but my traffic is still coming through. But to combat that, I am using private mode in FF since GA is blocked.
Things I am Investigating:

• Before, whenever I posted a new article, I could find my article eventually on Google 24-48 hours later using the keyword I am targeting. Sometimes it would be on like page 20, but I could at least find it. Lately though, any new article I post does not come up at all on Google. They are indexed, but nothing from my site is showing for the keyword.
  
• I am also having trouble with articles that are in the same genre, but not showing up for the correct keywords in Google. For example:
  

Keyword: borderlands legendary loot guide Page: https://www.mydomain.com/borderlands-legendary-loot Ranks # 3 for keyword
Keyword: borderlands rare loot guide Page: https://www.mydomain.com/borderlands-rare-loot Does not rank (I cannot find this page unless I type the URL into Google), Legendary page ranks # 15 for Rare keyword
Keyword: borderlands uncommon loot guide Page: https://www.mydomain.com/borderlands-uncommon-loot Just created, nothing is ranking for this keyword yet

• I am looking into using CloudFlare as a CDN for my site. I have a caching plugin, and that is working fine, but I am on a shared hosting account. A few times this past month my site has gone done because of another user's actions, which is obviously not good

This Month's Goals:

• I want to focus on fixing/bettering my previously posted articles, so I am only shooting for a total of 38 published posts by the end of June
  
• Start doing 'cold-call' backlink outreach - offer to create posts for other folk's blogs in exchange for a backlink
  

Accomplishments:

• Got my first legit comment on an article
  
• Achieved over 300 clicks from Google in May
  
• Starting to see some positive movement on Bing
  

If this character seems over powered, that is because I am VERY BIASED and love Ptilopsis with all my heart.
++++++++++++++++++
Event: strings of doubt.
Alter character: Ptilopsis, the neural web.
Class: caster, slow, AOE
Branch: Chain caster. Each attack jumps between 3 enemies, dealing 10% less damage per jump, and slowing enemies they hit.
Talent: Connected web. Any buffs given to Ptilopsis TNW will also be given to allies in a 3x3 area around her, and to whoever gave the buff to Ptilopsis TNW.
E2 talent upgrade: when stunned by any source, Ptilopsis TNW gives a 15% ASPD buff to allies in a 5x5 area for the duration of the stun.
Default ability, offensive recovery, auto: the next attack can target 2 more enemies and deals an extra 50% of attack as physical damage.
E1 ability, auto recovery, manual: Ensnaring net. Ptilopsis TNW immediately throws 3 snare traps onto the nearest ground tiles without any allies on them. These traps stun enemies who walk over them for a duration that depends on the enemy's weight, decreasing as the enemy gets heavier.
E2 ability, auto recovery, manual: Fate link. Ptilopsis TNW is stunned for 10 seconds upon activation. While Ptilopsis TNW is stunned, the enemy with the highest ATK will take damage equal to 25% of their ATK every second. When the stun ends, Ptilopsis takes damage equal to 2 times that enemy's ATK minus her own DEF stat. Any damage taken by Ptilopsis TNW while she is stunned will also be taken by her target.
++++++++++++++++++
Appearance:
When stunned, instead of the usual 'falling to one knee' animation that other operators use, Ptilopsis TNW instead closes her eyes and glows slightly.
E0-1 appearance: This Ptilopsis is a bit larger than her original self. She holds a ball of silver yarn in one hand, and her staff in the other. Ptilopsis stares at the yarn ball as though she is lost in thought.
She still wears her usual outfit, but it has been updated with a much more angular and streamlined design. A hood made of rigid hexagonal pieces is pulled up behind her head.
R2 appearance: Standing up strate, Ptilopsis now has the yarn wrapped around her fingers.
If the appearance was L2D, tapping Ptilopsis would cause her to twist and weave the yarn into several different shapes and patterns, such as a cat's cradle, spider web, and several others.
At the end of the animation, Ptilopsis settles on one pattern, a woven pattern of two repeating shapes, a heart and an owl.
++++++++++++++++++++
Instead of a normal event, this character would come with the points pass of a third rouge-like campaign, lithe the Mizuki one.
The campaign would be themed around digital code and hacking, and it's collectibles are all relevant to machinery and computer design.
++++++++++++++++
Voice lines and personality:
Ptilopsis is the core of Rhoads Island's technologies and logistics. Her new upgrades have only strengthened that connection, and she isn't shy about flaunting her new abilities.
Operator acquired: "Thank you for waiting doctor, my preparations are complete. Operator Ptilopsis, new and improved with enhanced performance and cognition, at your service. Tell me, doctor, how does this body look?"
Idle: "Aaaand the doctor is off to dream land again... hehe, I shall use this chance to show you my new might. When you wake up, all this work will have disappeared."
Due to her change in role, being a caster instead of a medic, Ptilopsis finds it a little hard to let go of her medicinal duties.
Mission failed: "Warfarin, let me help with the medicine... the rear guard? I completely forgot!!!"
Assistant interaction #1: "Doctor, I've got you. Please try not to stumble so much. You... didn't stumble? You were trying to straighten my coat?" (Embarased Iberi noises.)
With her flaws aside, Ptilopsis still acts with the same efficiency and grave as always. Although, she may enjoy her new taller body a bit TOO much...
Assigned to a job in the base: "Amiya, let me help you with that. See? My newfound height is quite useful for such tasks."
Trust tap: "What's wrong doctor? Can't reach my head? Hahaha! Foolish doctor, now it's time for Ptilopsis to pat you!"
++++++++++++++++++
Miscellaneous voice lines.
Tap, but not trust tap: "Eep! Doctor, I nearly tripped over you!"
Deployed in battle: "Let's get to work, no sleeping on the jo-zzzzzzzz..."
Assistant interaction 2-3: "Hmm? Yes, I can help you with... did Blue Poison send this in? It has frosting smudges all over it."
"(Yawn) Ahhh... nothing beats hot coffee on a work night. Doctor, care for a sip? It's freshly brewed."
Defeated in battle: "Neural overload!"
3 star victory: "That wasn't even a challenge. Surely a result of our impeccable teamwork."
Ability activation 1-3: "You're all wrapped around my fingers!"
"Nothing escapes my web!"
"(Whispered) An opportunity to show that frog whose better!"
Promotion: "Entrusting me with such important duties, are we now? Hah, just wait tilli get a chance to show you how brilliant that decision is."
Watching battle records (gaining XP): (Sigh) "How did we ever make due with such a primitive system before? Doctor, would you let me digitalize this for you."
Added to a squad: "You can stop worrying about logistics now."
Assigned as squad leader: "I've already prepared an efficient strategy. Just give the order doctor."

Hello, I'm back for another go. Here's my first attempt. I understand why some people were calling it anime-ish, but wanted to clarify that it's actually a highly character and relationship-based novel with only a background focus on fighting. But since the internal conflict is more important, I'll try my best to focus more directly on it. I do have to at least mention the antagonists though. Keep in mind, the fighting mainly occurs in the end, so for most of the story the island is pretty calm with just a looming dread of the incoming conflict in the background, as Samoor develops and cultivates relationships.
Dear Agent,
I am excited to present the Foreigner of All, a 99K word YA escapist adventure standalone novel with strong series potential. It would appeal to fans of Harry Potter & The Sorcerer's Stone, The Alchemist, and Into The Wild.
Finally breaking under the alienation caused by his phenotypical condition that makes him resemble a foreigner, Samoor starts a new life on an idyllic island with a new identity.
He finds friends for the first time in his life in the form of a caring local clan. Through them he meets Su, an intelligent musician who shows him love he never thought he'd ever be given. With a fake backstory he's tailored to hide his insecurities and gain their respect, he has to live a lie that could come crashing down any minute.
But as he soon finds out, all is not well on the island. He plots to liberate the only true family he's ever had from the brutal gang of hyper-intelligent beasts that dominates the island. He also finds himself stalked by an obsessive assassin whose motive threatens to throw him at odds with a deadly omnipresent syndicate. His dangerous endeavor could risk him losing the first family and home he's ever attained.
In this heavily character-based bildungsroman, Samoor experiences true acceptance as he develops his relationship with his newfound family and soulmate, but simultaneously deals with memories of the family he's left behind and the fear that his dishonesty will be found out.
In this deeply emotional adventure of fulfillment and discovery, Samoor has to come to terms with his past and decide who he wants to be going forward.
First 300 words:
The sun had barely risen before he was at his usual spot near the window, staring out at the Ahmedabad skyline while occasionally rolling his toy truck back and forth. His mother hadn't noticed him there as she left her bedroom to dispose of his fussy brother's soiled diapers, only seeing him as she ignited the stove.
"Soom? What are you doing up so early again? You're only three, you don't have to go to work like your father," she joked as she filled the steel teapot with milk.
"What's Daddy's work?" he asked, his eyes still on the window.
"Daddy's a doctor. He fixes people who need help," she explained.
"Can he fix me?" he asked, his eyes moving to his mother.
She stared at him with her mouth open as the pot boiled over, scalding water hissing as it hit the flames.
She turned off the stove and strode over to him, getting down to his level.
"Samoor, why do you want to be fixed?" she pressed. "There's nothing wrong with you!"
He turned his gaze back to the window. "Yes there is. Other kids point at me, and call me 'Samurai.' I don't look like them, or like my brothers and sister. I'm different."
"Yes, you are different. But that's not bad! It makes you who you are! Please... never say that again," she pleaded, her voice cracking.
He looked down at his toy truck silently.
Samoor was jerked out of the memory when a colorful, ornamented truck blared its ear-piercing musical horn behind him. He lowered his aching thumb as someone shoved open the passenger door from inside.
“Need a lift?” asked the driver, a middle-aged man in an undershirt.
“Yes sir!” affirmed Samoor, straightening his choppy, dark hair.
“The name’s Pradyut. What’s yours, and where ya’ headed?” he asked.
[Bio]
Thank you,

I was thinking of doing a build based off of Ranma from Ranma1/2, who basically is a martial artist that changes gender whenever he hits the water. Cold makes him a girl, and hot water makes him a dude. I also toyed with the idea of doing a warrior build based off of He-Man, who got super jacked every time he used his sword.
Both would require a mod that would allow you to change presets on the fly. Not only that, but for maximum immersion, it would have to happen automatically depending on conditions, not needing you to enter a menu or use an ability. For instance, you turn to a pre-selected female character preset whenever you touch water, and turn back when you touch it again. Or you turn into a beefier preset of your normal avatar.
A mod like this could also be used to mimic anime and comic transformations, since you could make a hulk preset that you turn into if someone of a similar level hits you, or something.
It wouldn't affect your stats, just your appearance, but in most cases you'll probably have equipment or powers to do that anyway.
Are there any mods like this? If not, does anyone feel up to making one?
I'm not sure if it's possible or not since I don't know a whole lot about the technicalities of modding, but I have used mods before that let you change presets using a menu, and there are mods like that one that lets you change the hair your using automatically when you enter a town, so I imagine it's probably possible.

I’m not sue-happy. It would be my first time looking into this. But at the entrance of the place to walk in they have a low bar, thats not easily visible. I was looking straight ahead but didnt notice it. It hit my shin on my right leg and upper shin on my left. I was in a hiking class for the college. It swelled up horribly like a baseball on my right shin to where its been like 2 weeks, I can’t walk long distances (though i can walk), and it still hurts and is sitll has a big bump on it.
I feel like it is so negligent to out that there. At the very least i want it taken down. If i were ederly it likely could have made me no long mobile and a lot of older people take that hike.
Is there any good direction to go in? When i look for lawyers online all the ads seem, well idk how to put this but a little like scammy or like idk. Is that just the nature of things or is there any way to go about this?
I have some pictures and video of the incident and want to go back to get a picture of the thing that was put at the entrance.
Thank you

"Toad" refers to the venom naturally secreted by the Bufo Alvarius toad. This secretion contains the powerful psychedelic, 5-meo-DMT, which is apparently capable of obliterating the ego in one fell swoop and bringing astounding healing results.
I participated in my first toad ceremony a few months ago. I will describe the experience, the benefits I gleaned from it, and what I learned about the theory and practice of Ketamine-State Yoga.
Lead Up to My Toad Ceremony
I got the connection from a friend at my yoga studio. He referred to a healer of great wisdom and experience (including Western medical credentials) who traveled the world administering this medicine in the context of a brief ceremony.
I reached out and had a fascinating conversation with the guy. I won't reveal details, for obvious reasons, but I will say he struck me with both the breadth of his experience and his dedication to serving others by conducting these healing ceremonies. I signed up for my first "toad ceremony," to be conducted when he arrived in my city.
I was determined but plenty scared!
Since I discovered the potential of psychedelic healing, through yogic practices within the ketamine state, I had been on a mission to excavate and heal my trauma-pain from abuse I experienced in childhood. Since my scars are old -- and were reinforced by re-traumatizing habits over the years -- I have always expected healing transformation will require work and difficult experiences.
But the dabbling I had done with 5-meo-DMT, in the form of a synthetic vape, had yielded terrifying (though very brief) experiences. I was plunged into a dark abyss, with my ego, memory and senses blinking out of existence like a dying computer monitor -- with only my vivid pain body floating in space. The Toad Shaman (I'll refer to him this way, though he doesn't use that title) was so reassuring on the phone that I resolved to forge ahead with the full 5-meo-DMT experience led by this master, despite my earlier terrifying experiences.
The Ceremony
I arrived at the location, a comfortable room a half hour from my apartment. The Toad Shaman was there with two assistants dressed in white. I had the vague impression of a cult, but soon learned these attendants were a trauma therapist and breathwork specialist. Everyone was extremely warm as we talked about the upcoming experience.
They heard my fears, listened to my story of trauma, and suggested I take the full dose. The idea was that the small doses I had taken from my synthetic vape had only partially eradicated my ego, which ironically made the suffering far more intense. They said that often the full dose was much easier to handle.
And that turned out to be an understatement.
I recited a few non-sectarian verses, mainly aimed at forgiveness and acceptance of self and others. I stood and took a few deep breaths. Then I took an enormous hit of toad venom as the Toad Shaman held the pipe to my lips. I have a vague memory of starting to descend to the floor...
My ordinary consciousness-stream resumed (I suppose I could say I "woke up," but that somehow feels inaccurate) as I lay on the floor in total bliss. They had caught me, laid me gently on the ground with a blanket. I felt utter peace and balance, though my thoughts were still incoherent. At some point, I thought, "Wow!" -- This was total bliss, there had been no intense fear, no painful struggle.
The Come Down
The breathwork specialist whispered in my ear, "Stay with your breath." This reminder was unnecessary, though he couldn't have known (I told him later). I'm a pranayama yogi, and at that moment I was intentionally resting at the bottom of my exhalation on empty, as I do when practicing Ketamine-State Yoga.
I performed a few rounds of the 5-deep breaths practice -- a series of deep belly breaths followed by a long and luxurious final exhalation and then a prolonged rest at the bottom on empty.
Then my stuck emotions burst forth.
I wept and wept, touching tender memories, allowing thoughts of my childhood to float through my mind, thinking about my parents and feeling compassion for them despite their atrocious behavior. Everything I touched released a stream of emotions, my body shook as I spilled out the tears.
Then a thought flew in, "There are other people in the room watching me cry." Suddenly I was struck by the juxtaposition of the profound state I had experienced -- contact with the "source consciousness" as the Toad Shaman explained it -- and this silly incursion of social paranoia. I immediately started laughing hysterically at my own ego.
Peels of laughter shook my body.
I alternated between tears and laughter for about 20 minutes. At some point I sat up, and turned around to face the Toad Shaman and his assistants. We talked for a few minutes about the experience, and the trauma therapist said he was so moved by my ceremony that he wanted to give me his amulet! (I wore this amulet to a recent Ayahuasca retreat, which I will describe in a later post.)
I walked home feeling terrific, like a mountain of pain had been reduced to dust and then blown away by a pleasant Spring breeze. There was no sense of a toxic after-effect at all -- none. I thought, "This is the cleanest psychedelic I have ever experienced."
I had some lucid dreams in the following nights, in which I returned to my childhood home and faced with courage the primal-fear nightmares of my youth. Months later, I still feel I can touch that sense of total release -- complete surrender to the "source consciousness" -- whenever I need to, and this power has benefited me during stressful times.
In sum, this toad ceremony was an outrageously effective healing experience that somehow bypassed the intense discomfort I sometimes feel on psychedelics and went straight to the potent emotional release I needed.
What This Experience Taught Me about Ketamine-State Yoga
At first I joked with the Toad Shaman and my friends afterwards. When I practice Ketamine-State Yoga, I put emphasis on the come-up phase. I do all sorts of yogic practices -- pranayama, mudras, loving-kindness meditation -- as the trip builds toward the peak.
But in this toad ceremony there was no come up at all!
I took that big hit of toad venom and wham! -- On the floor, body of bliss. How could I possibly connect this experience to Ketamine-State Yoga?
But I realized that, while many folks benefit from 5-meo-DMT, I had perhaps experienced a particularly effective trip in terms of catharsis and healing. The Toad Shaman and his assistants had implied this after the ceremony, saying, "You will probably maintain a connection to this medicine." (I think they were right.)
First, there was the complete release of my exhalation following the hit from the pipe. I had let go with that total release I cultivate when I practice breathwork near the ketamine peak. I had been prepared!
Then there was the 5-deep-breaths pranayama. I practice this nearly every ketamine trip, and it's possible that it allowed me, in the toad ceremony, to process my stuck emotions and soothe my trauma-pain. The first thing I remember when my consciousness-steam returned, as I lay on the floor, was a feeling of bliss. Then I practiced the pranayama that in turn led to my alternating weeping and laughing. Crying and laughing "shake out" the upper chakras -- they literally, physically, wring out the places -- throat, chest, belly -- where painful emotions are stored. This is why emotional release is so cathartic!
Finally, the toad-ceremony experience validates the basic theory of Ketamine-State Yoga in terms of healing results. A peak experience results in obliteration of the ego. In this egoless state, without the constant stream of (often self-antagonizing) language, the chakras automatically move toward equilibrium. This is experienced as balance, peace, contentment -- but it is also a fertile state for accessing and processing emotions that are in deep storage.
A stark difference is that essentially I had no experience of the 5-meo-DMT peak. I "woke up" with a body of bliss, on the ground. And usually when I practice Ketamine-State Yoga and cultivate a peak mystical experience, I do remember something. But I can't be sure I didn't have an experience on Toad -- It could be I simply don't remember. I asked the Toad Shaman and his helpers and they said I grunted a few times "in releasing stuff." They hinted that memories might emerge over the following days, but aside from the lucid dreams I didn't experience that.
Conclusions
I plan to do another toad ceremony in a few weeks! I am very curious if it will be similar to my first or if it will vary greatly, as my ketamine trips often do.
I have referred several friends to the Toad Shaman -- people who are struggling with trauma and deep depression, folks who have "tried everything." Maybe this strange and (for me) glorious experience will bring them a breakthrough.
Next time I use 5-meo-DMT, I plan to perform Maha Bandha, a combination of yogic muscular locks within the body, because my intuition tells me this will synergize well with the toad medicine. I'll do this for those few moments following the inhalation from the pipe.
My intention the first time was simple: To let go of horrific and obsessive thoughts that have plagued me for most of my life and came from the violence I experienced. This time I may just focus on surrendering completely and letting the medicine -- and my inner wisdom -- do their work.
I have practiced Ketamine-State Yoga since this experience and my practice has been joyful and effective. I can't say if it directly benefited from the toad medicine trip, but I suspect that is the case. I can let go so completely and relax at the bottom of the breath. I now have multiple ways of understanding and appreciating the "source consciousness" that permeates my being and the whole world, and I can see even more clearly the arbitrary and petty nature of my ego.
Have you had an experience with 5-meo-DMT? Have you had an experience with it, or another psychedelic, that supported your healing process and/or your understanding of the ketamine state?

My 8yo was diagnosed with ADHD and oppositional defiance disorder two years ago and we are currently seeking further diagnosis but it takes times and wait lists to get into doctors are almost a year out at this point. He exhibits a lack of empathy for everyone around him with the exception of his 2 baby brothers and animals. Lack of overall emotion(example: if I were to buy him something he told me he really wants or take him somewhere he really wants to go to he would not be happy or excited about it and would in fact act as if he was boered or disappointed we didn't buy him something different or take him somewhere else, nothing is ever good enough for him) no self control (example: he wants to hit his middle brother he hits him, he wants to use a cuss word he cusses, he wants to throw a toy across the room at the wall he does) no motivation (example: if I were to let him sit on his tablet or Nintendo switch all day and not bother him he wouldn't even get up to eat he would lay in bed all day and do nothing, another example: he got selected at school to participate in an evaluation thru the state to see if he was gifted in the visual arts and was asked to create five original art pieces for a portfolio he wanted nothing to do with it and refused to participate we tried for weeks to encourage him sat down to create together as I do art as well and he said he didn't care and didn't want to do it) he has poor social skills ( example: he often pushes his friends away by bullying them or saying things that are hurtful and not really caring if they are his friend or not in the first place. He often tells me he doesn't want or need friends he doesn't want a wife or children he wants to watch YouTube and just be rich). Anything you say to him he takes to the extreme (for example: me saying to him son I don't like it when you do that can you please stop, his response would be oh so your saying you don't like me okay another example: I say son your gonna be on punishment if you please do not do your one singular chore for the day and he would respond okay well I'm on punishment I'm just gonna go to my room and will walk away without completing it and lay in bed) he has poor self esteem and little self worth (example: all the adults in his life will say great job for getting such good grades in school we are proud of you and know how hard you worked to make it thru the school year his response would be no I'm stupid. Another example: wow your art is so creative I love it his response would be no it's stupid and ugly and you hate it). He will selectively go non verbal and only reply in hums but not for any extended period of time. He makes different noises and claims that he does them on purpose to annoy everyone around him (his words) but I think he may be embarrassed of the fact that everyone including teachers classmates and his cousins always comment on the noises he makes and I think they may be something he does to help regulate himself when he gets overwhelmed and maybe he doesn't know why he makes the noises he just does. We have him on Vyvanse 30mg and he sees a counselor once a week we also are in constant contact thru out the school year with his teacher and the principal and guidance counselor we have him on a 504 plan and it is extremely detailed and I talk to the teachers and guidance counselor regularly thru out the week. As of today 5/31/23 we are taking him off the medicine for a few weeks to get him back to his baseline and wanting to have him reevaluated because we don't like the way the medicine affects him. He's a straight A student but I fear its only because he is on medicine for his ADHD and if we were to go a different route without medication his grades would suffer incredibly. He's so extremely gifted in art and in doing things like Legos and rubix cube. I have tried every approach to bond with my son relate to my son be understanding be strong for him I am patient I advocate for him his father and I are divorced but his father his new wife myself and any other family you could think of are very involved in his life in supporting him being patient and showing him empathy and support letting him know how loved he is and it's okay if he's a little different we can find tools and ways to live and put them in our tool box to use when we are having a hard time or a hard day. I try to not give into him when he picks fights with me or says hurtful things when he is making the noises to the point that I want to scream I try so hard to remain nice and calm and understanding and if anything I will just walk away or try to not acknowledge the noises. I don't know what to do anymore. I have tried everything to get him to listen or atleast see that every action has a consequence. I don't know how to parent my child and neither does his father or step mother. He doesn't care about anything. No electronics he doesn't care. No toys he doesn't care. Grounded to his room he doesn't care. He will look us dead in the eyes and just out right refuse to do anything. Very rarely does he listen to his father or i or act like he cares about anything. The only time he smiles and seems to be having a fun time is when no adults are around and those moments where you just leave your children to play and figure things out on their own or if it's something he wants like Pokemon or Roblox or playing video games. We do not spank him as we are trying to break generational habits and I feel even more strongly about it towards him as I feel like whatever mental health stuff he has going on spanking or anything along "traditional punishment" will only make everything worse. We do however follow thru with things like taking electronics away standing in the corner or being stuck in his room because those are the only "punishments we can get him to do without physically touching him and punishments chores and routines are the same amongst households. My son does not tell me he loves me he does not hug me he rarely talks to me or shares his school life or friend life only unless it is about video games or again something he is interested in. He bully's his middle brother his cousins family friends everyone. He does not express emotions to anyone in his life. Im coming from a place of desperation. There is much more to his story and please if you can trust an Internet stranger trust that we are all trying to do what's best for him and talking to doctors phycologist doing research on what could possibly be going on we give him unconditional love and support we put him in sports and encourage but do not force extra curricular stuff we try everything we can to get thru to him and it doesn't matter no amount of talking accepting understanding relating being strict or stern being soft and understanding nothing. Nothing works. I don't know what to do with my son anymore and if anyone has advice or has a son like mine and would like to share your story I would really appreciate it because this is really hard and I fear what his future might look like as we get into teenage years. Thanks.

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Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
— Langston Hughes
Catalogue Description
Self-Monitoring Behavioural Management Report: Casimir Szymański, Scazim Institute of Science and Technology - English Translation
Date:
15 Summer-2 3429 (Standard Parimthian Calendar)
November 23rd, 2162 (Gregorian Calendar)
Held by:
The UK National Archives, Kew
Legal status:
Public Record(s)
My father worshipped a fabricated, pagan prophet.
The Senghavi of the Parimthian Empire are principally joined under the ditheistic religion called Siedi, which I do not subscribe to. Of course, the Senghavi's literature, art, and faith flooded the whole of Earth upon their arrival a century ago. From this ocean of civilised culture, my degenerate species drew a sample, claimed it as our own, and polluted it with a distorted, appropriated, dumbed-down doctrine.
The central figure in this corrupt sample of Siedi was a man whom my father called Jesus Christ. He was said to have offered himself as a sacrifice that could be made to a single God. It was a final sacrifice, one beyond lambs or cattle or people. One that would atone for humanity's sins, so that we could have the free choice between the eternal presence of God and the eternal absence of "Him."
My father dressed himself in black, with a standing collar whose white fabric was exposed at the centre. That much, I could recall. He preached to hopeful humans in what was called a church, though I did not know what he was preaching. At the very least, my childhood is fuzzy in that regard.
The pain that throbbed through my skull, after the blonde savage had slammed my head against the ridges of the airlock, faded into the background. I could not focus; perhaps, I thought, one of their improvised explosives had gone off by accident. There was blue Senghavi blood staining my dress shirt. The rush of air escaping into vacuum pierced my ears.
Perhaps it was thirst of water, which binds most sapient beings—the Sons of Liberty had reached an agreement with the Colonial Defence Force to allow spacecraft delivering food, water, and medical aid, only to unleash the anti-collision lasers of this cursed spaceliner upon those very ships.
Or perhaps it was the explosion, as I initially thought, an inadvertent complication which had wrought injury and death over my countrymen, and which had forced the terrorist savages to attempt to patch up the many hull breaches left by debris.
Or perhaps it was simply the stress of betraying, in my desperate efforts to save everyone from this senseless violence, the greatest secret of the Senghavi Terrans: our antimatter research. Word of it had likely been forwarded already, hundreds of light-years away, to that pink-hued marble which was Parimth itself.
Or perhaps it was all three; thirst, explosion, and stress. In any case, my mind shut it all out, and something lost from my childhood flashed before me:
We're standing on the cracked street of the Vennec Human Reservation. In the distance, the Senghavi's white, glassy spires reach above the clouds, their accents of luminescence dim in the broad daylight.
I hold a ball in my palm. It's wrapped in white leather held together with red stitching. I toss it to Dad.
Instead of his clerical uniform, he wears the normal "T-shirt" and "cargo shorts." Along with the clerical getup, they are just two of the many sorts of clothing which the Senghavi have invented for humanity. I toss the ball to Dad, and he swings a primitive wooden bat.
The ball goes soaring, further than he meant to. He jogs down the road to retrieve it, then gives me the wooden bat. The breeze ruffles his hair just as he ruffles mine with his hand.
"Now, you try," he says. "It's just practice, that's all."
For some reason, he lifts one leg in the air, then pitches the ball to me. I swing. The impact of the ball shakes through the wood, and it goes careening off to the left.
"I did it!" I yell. "But it went out of bounds."
"Heyyyy, that's not bad," Dad says with a reassuring voice. "Good job, just try to go a little more right next time."
Mom comes out onto the front porch, the breeze ruffling her dress as she waves to Dad. "Dinner's ready, and Mom's pie is... almost ready."
I stare blankly at her until I realise that she is talking about her Mom, Grandma, who is the best at making pumpkin pie.
"The pie!" I shout, running and jumping to the front door. "I totally forgot about that!"
I am ready to speed my way through dinner just so I can get to dessert, but Dad stops me before my first bite.
Of course, I think. We need to say grace. Me, Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa all hold hands, thanking God for our food, and then dig in. But Mom and Dad just talk about work, and I am too focused on finishing my food quickly to pitch in.
Finally—Grandma's pie!
When you bite into the soft, smooth filling, you can instantly tell it's been made with fresh pumpkins, not the boring canned ones. The taste of cinnamon and spice is balanced out perfectly with the coolness of the whipped cream.
The flavour spreads through my tongue and nostrils, filling my entire brain with a feeling of amazing-ness. If I wrote the Simple-Speak Dictionary for Senghavi Terrans, I'd put Grandma's pie next to the translation of "perfection."
I should save a slice, I think, for the Senghavi kid.
Even though it's only been a week since I met him through the playground fence, we already told each other where we live, and I want to get to know him more. He doesn't live on the Vennec Human Reservation, but his house is just a bike-ride away in Fellye Neighborhood.
I wonder if anyone's ever given pumpkin pie to an alien before. Even though humans only invented it fifty years ago, it makes me feel proud of my species!
When Mom tucks me into bed, kissing my forehead, I tell her what I'm going to do.
"Oh, you wild thing," she coos. "You're so much like your father. And you have his eyes, you know? Just stay safe."
"Don't worry, I'll do my best."
>! "Good night. I love you." !<
>! "I love you, too, Mom," I say. I hug her tightly from my bed, and a warm, fuzzy feeling blossoms within me. I can hardly fall asleep in my excitement. !<
Luckily, Fellye Neighborhood doesn't take apartheid that seriously, and I don't think anybody cares about an eight year-old human riding his bicycle around the gates.
Next evening, I do just that, peddling out of the Reservation's entrance into the violet dusk. When I get to Mensim's address, I ring the hi-tech front doorbell, and a really tall Senghavi shows up.
"Oh, dear," she says in Parimthian. "A barbarian hatchling—by what name do you go?"
"I'm Casimir," I say nervously. I don't pay that much attention in school, but I know just enough Parimthian to talk to the Senghavi woman. "Are you Mrs. Munghazi? Is Mensim fe Munghazi here? I got two slices of pie. You can have one, too!"
She looks at me suspiciously, antennae twitching. "That would be Teacher Munghazi to you; I know not why you natives invented these odd 'Mister' and 'Missis' honorifics. Hold on—Ghanvati! A native hatchling stands at our doorstep!"
Ghanvati must be Mensim's dad. I wonder where his other moms are; only one has shown up to the door. Ghanvati shows up with two of them—they are both shorter and daintier than Teacher Munghazi, their raptorial forelimbs folded shyly against their bodies. In front of the group of three is Mensim, and I involuntarily gasped with excitement.
"Mensim!"
"This is your new companion?" Ghanvati asks Mensim.
Mensim's papery forewings flicker with affirmation. "I met him at school."
"What, pray tell, is the point of apartheid if it does not actually keep natives away from Senghavi?" whines one of Ghanvati's wives.
Ghanvati's antennae droop as if to say "I don't know," while Mensim lifts my arms, inspecting me like I am a test animal in a mad scientist's laboratory.
"How do you guys not get cut all the time?" he asks, tracing his tarsal hairs over my bare skin. "You're so fleshy!"
"I do get cut all the time," I giggled. "We just use band-aids. Oh, do you wanna eat a pumpkin pie?"
It turned out that pumpkin pie is bad for alien stomachs. Mensim had to go to the bathroom for a long time, and three of his moms got mad at me.
When I got back, Dad and Mom were arguing. I snuck close to the back porch, making sure they couldn't hear me.
"Yes, they leave some people alone," Dad said. "Obviously, they can't spy on every single human who believes in human religions. But Katarzyna, they still need people to make an example out of, and I don't want to be that person!"
"Casimir is a responsible kid," Mom retorts. "I told him he can't tell anyone what you do, and he listens to me."
"He's eight years old. You can't just let him wander around aliens with a secret that could have me killed! Or have you killed!"
Mom cups Dad's cheek and looks him in the eye. She's a lot shorter than him. "Look, love. You're a great father, and I think it's amazing that you spend time with him. But you're the only person he talks to. You know just as well as I do that he needs to talk to other kids! It's not healthy; even Teacher Perevvoxath agreed. And now he finally has a friend."
Dad sighs, running his hands through his black hair. My hair. "You really think aliens are a substitute for human interaction?"
>! "I think every human needs a person they can talk to, and Casimir found one. If you really care about him, stop preaching for a while! Your church isn't gonna die without you. It'll be okay." !<
The next day, I visit Mensim's house after school again. And the next day after that, and the next after that. His dad Ghanvati is formally named Engineer Munghazi. I am to call his moms Teacher Munghazi, Teacher Munghazi, Teacher Munghazi, Accountant Munghazi, Priestess Munghazi, Doctor Munghazi, and Maidservant Munghazi.
A couple weeks later, Mensim and I are lounging together on his couch, watching a Parimthian war movie. The main characters are fighting against the evil forces of the Imperium of Orion. Under his head capsule, Mensim is munching something called Synth-Fruit, which is imported from a faraway planet called Mryi. I eat Pop-Tarts, which I'm pretty sure are toxic to him.
"Come on, just give me one," Mensim exclaims, reaching over to steal the sweet snacks from me. "It can't be that bad!"
I lift the Pop-Tarts away from him, laughing. "Stoppit, you're attacking me! Pay attention to the movie, or I'm gonna shoot you!"
"But I just want one..."
"It's gonna poison you, and you're gonna get your weird alien throw-up all over me!"
Priestess Munghazi, the oldest of his moms, bursts into the living room, her jewellery clinking over her clerical cape.
"Your sister conveyed to me quite the disturbing piece of news, Mensim," Priestess Munghazi cries. "The father of Casimir is a priest of a most barbarous and evil perversion of the Siedi faith. Ghanvati and I spoke, and we agreed that you are not to consort with this primitive, pagan savage any longer."
I drop my crumbly Pop-Tart on the couch, confused at the sudden order.
"But Priestess Munghazi, I'm not dangerous or evil. I'm just a kid."
"Nonsense! You are dangerous; your father is a barbarian worshipper of this evil, primate paganism that is called Christianity, and a most woeful effect is begot that even self-respecting Senghavi have 'gone native,' as they say. Mensim, if you continue to consort with this native spawn, I will be impelled to inform the Siedi Court, and they may by chance see to it that he is executed!"
"W-Wait!" Mensim says, holding up the remote to pause our movie. He gets off of me, suddenly losing interest in my Pop-Tart, his vestigial forewings rising with concern. "Please, Mother. I promise he won't be any trouble."
My blood runs cold. Dad, executed? Just because what he believes in isn't "civilised" enough? Actually, I thought that Mom told him to stop preaching for a while.
Mensim scrambles to *his father's sleeping quarters, and I trail frantically after him.*
"Father," Mensim says. "Is Casimir's father's job so ghastly that he should be executed by the Siedi Court?"
"We can't just let the natives spread the same barbarous religions that they used to kill each other," Ghanvati replies, his secondary arms clasped together. "It's a threat to safe, moral society. Priestess Munghazi told me his father spreads evil and paganism. I have no reason not to trust the oldest of your mothers."
"But Casimir's my best friend! If you tell the Siedi Court about his father, I'll... I'll run away! I'll hate you!"
Distressed vibrations emanate through the floor beneath my feet; Mensim's antennae and papery forewings and hindwings go limp. Something like lilies and the earthy scent of rain fills the air.
"My dearest Mensim," Ghanvati says softly, dipping his head capsule with compassion. "I will hold off, just this once. It would be apt of you not to cause me to reconsider."
"T-thank you, Engineer Munghazi," I say, wiping my own tears. "My dad's not a bad person, I promise."
*After confronting his dad, Mensim and I keep on watching movies and playing digital games. He always wins when we wrestle, but I still haven't given up (even though Priestess Munghazi always tells us to stop roughhousing). *
I even bring my Lego pieces to his house. He doesn't know what Legos are, but later, in his sleeping quarters, we build together. He makes a cool-looking spaceship that he calls a "negative energy generator."
"Hey, you took all the cool black and grey pieces," I complain. "Now I can't finish my army base!"
"This is cooler than your army base," Mensim says proudly. "Father used to work in one. It uses the superposition of squeezed vacuum states to produce a field of negative energy density."
"I have no idea what that means, but that sounds really smart."
*"No kidding! It's how people make wormholes and fly all the way to other stars." *
"Well, my army guys could beat your negative energy-thingy. They have machine guns."
"My guys could just fly a [~million billion trillion kilometres] away, and yours can't do anything about it!"
"Then your guys are wimps. But my guys aren't. Because they're the Army!"
>! *We also explore the pine forest in his backyard. Within just two more weeks, we have uncovered all sorts of interesting things, like a piece of a real human skull. One time, we found a human foot sculpted and smoothed out of stone—who would make such a thing?—and a dead metal device with the icon of a bitten-out-of apple printed on it. *!<
There were also other human body parts made out of ancient stone, too: the cracked half of a man's face buried a foot deep, a muscly arm sticking out of the soil. Even a private part, which I snickered at, though Mensim seemed unfazed.
There is something else we start to do. My parents have given me "the talk," and Mensim told me that his parents gave him the Senghavi version of it. And so even as we talk and play in the woods, we experiment—because we are curious, and why should we not be?
A fragment of a memory in the forest; Mensim's raptorial forelimbs are set on my shoulders as his compound eyes look into my primate eyes, and he says, "You cannot tell anyone about this. Anyone. Absolutely no one."
I don't know how, but Priestess Munghazi learned of what we were doing, and now she expresses anger and disgust alike, her wings and antennae wild and rigid. Ghanvati is the same. Mensim and I... We're actually making them reconsider their decision not to tell the Siedi Court about my dad.
A fragment of a memory... I feel like I am in space, stranded aboard a spaceliner that has been hijacked by terrorists, its atmosphere venting amid a backdrop of violence... But I am not, I am in the forest that Mensim and I talked and played in; I am in Mensim's home, terrified as I am yelled at by Ghanvati, whose compassion no longer shines through, accompanied by Priestess Munghazi.
"By the names of the Gods, it's those false, pagan corruptions which humans have named as their religions, that are spouted by your father," Priestess Munghazi spits. I am teary-eyed and snot-nosed from guilt and embarrassment. "How horrid is the link between the state of barbarism and a most revolting and shameful propensity for bizarre and perverted behaviour!"
Then I am in my own family's living room, and the mom I love so dearly yells at me, too, but my father is quieter and only seems disappointed. This must be the first time in my life that I have felt true shame, I think; the kind that leaves you with an emptiness inside. Like the whole point of existing just vanished inside of me.
*The worst part is that I cannot even lean on Mom's shoulder, because she is distressed—because she knows what will happen— *
"This is all on you, Casimir!" she screeches, tears in her eyes. "All on you!"
I remember telling Priestess Munghazi that 'I'm not dangerous or evil; I'm just a kid,' but now I can't be sure anymore. I can tell I am different in the eyes of my family. They are disgusted by me.
After Priestess Munghazi tells the Siedi Court of my father's evil, barbaric Christian teachings, the Parimthian soldiers bring my father to the gallows. Their snow-white exoskeletons gleam under a burning sun. They have dressed him in his clerical uniform, and the camera is close enough that I can see his cross necklace.
I have been grounded in my room; still, I have a television to see the live broadcast.
Hanging works for primates and mantids alike. It happens in the Forum of Movvaeti, the venue for public events in our area, where my father is a lesser criminal compared to the native leaders and Senghavi malcontents who have dissented from Colonial Governor Nieve fe Skellth.
He is joined with seven other convicts, three humans and four Senghavi, and their crimes are read to the crowd—blasphemy, paganism, monogamy, witchcraft, seditious libel, insulting the Parimthian Crown, treason against the Parimthian Crown, and refusal to quarter Parimthian soldiers.
Why? None of this feels right. Why should my father be killed because of what he says and believes? Why can't these people be judged with fairness, rather than at the whim of some distant space emperor?
Not only have I been grounded, but I grow cold without my mother's touch. I want to hold someone's hand while watching Dad lose his life, but nobody is there. Mom brings me food, but she doesn't even look at me. Why can't she look at me? Why can't she speak to me? I just want things to be the way they used to be, when Dad would help me practise hitting a ball with a bat on the street.
I watch him turn down a caped, bejewelled priestess of the Siedi faith, who thought she could make my dad accept their Gods before his death. Before a modest crowd of humans and Senghavi alike, all eight of the convicts have their arms and legs bound with rope.
I am begging myself to turn the TV off, but I can't bring myself to. The Senghavi executioner uses some kind of hi-tech display to remove the supports from beneath the convicts' feet. My stomach flips over inside of me, a nausea of shame filling my body.
I can't deny it any longer. This is my fault—this is why my family avoids me—this is why they are disgusted by me—and Dad falls and his head jerks when the noose goes taut.
As he hangs there, I cannot tell for how long he remains alive. My insides are cold. After the broadcast ends, after night falls and I sit in the moonlight spilling faintly through my windows, that is when it all comes out. I sob alone. I scream for Mom to help me and be there for me, but she does not come. Her harsh voice resonates through my memory; this is all on me. I am a disgrace to everyone I love, and that is why they have left me here. Why they avoid me as if I am a disease.
The only thing I want is to see Dad again, but he is gone forever. I curl up on my room floor. What is this? What is this loneliness? This stinging hatred I feel against myself?
No one, human or mantid, will be there for me. I cry until my throat cannot ache any more harshly, until my eyes cannot sting any more painfully, and then I go cold inside, my body shivering in the moonlight. I retreat into my happy memories with Dad until it is too painful to bear.
I wish so dearly I could end it all, to take my own life and join Dad in the heaven that he believed in. There is a belt in my closet that I can use on myself in the way the Siedi Court killed Dad.
But beneath the sickly well of shame, the nausea and crushing humiliation at the stupid antics of Mensim and I, with which Mom's brief gaze pierces me—beneath the weight of knowing that I will never fill the torturous vacuum Dad left, knowing that I am a foul and disgusting son to the mother I so desperately need, that I see no end to the infinite river of anxiety and guilt pouring through the hole left in my heart—beneath my isolation and my longing for human touch—something breaks inside of me.
An emptiness of purpose. There is no point in going on, and I feel nothing, not even the desire to stop living. There is one exception: A hatred of myself, and of the humans I loved as family.
One day, Mom appears in my doorway, and she just stands there. Before, I would've welcomed being offered interaction with her beyond just receiving food, but now I am numb, my eyes all out of tears to cry.
"Pack your things," she says, her voice flat. She still doesn't look at me; the eyes she once said I inherited from Dad, she now shuns. "You're going to a residential school."
Indigenous Residential Schools; that is what Colonial Governor Nieve fe Skellth calls them, I think. They're for human kids who have trouble letting go of their "savage" roots; kids that the normal schools aren't enough to civilise. Schools that show you how to act Senghavi, to think Senghavi, to... be Senghavi.
There was a human kid in normal school whose sister went there, but they said that something had happened to her there; something in that residential school had changed her before she finally returned.
But I feel no fear as I pack my clothes into my bags. Every time I look in my bedroom mirror, a violent feeling rushes to my chest, only to dissipate into the hatred-tinged numbness I have grown so used to.
Finally, the time comes to depart. In the early morning, I am already aboard the autonomous public transport. It pulls out of the cracked street I once played with Dad in, passing by the entrance of Fellye Neighborhood, driving off into the fiery, violet Terran dawn. I see my faded reflection in the window, and my chest jumps with revulsion.
So I look down, fidgeting with my touchpad—then the numbness abruptly leaves, and my tears fall once again.
Forgive me for all the redaction, Doctor Morgthax. While I will not disclose what I wrote, you are correct, as always, about the act of writing. There is some semblance of psychological relief in typing one's sullen inner thoughts onto a touchpad. As if one can be heard without being heard.
By the time I drifted back to reality, my mouth and lips dry from dehydration, the hijackers had patched up the holes punched through the hull by the accidental explosion. Plenty of Senghavi passengers were spilling cerulean blood from beneath their exoskeletal coverings; though they were all alive, they needed medical attention.
Two hundred-something Senghavi civilians aboard this luxury spaceliner, and none had yet died. That stroke of luck offered me a glimmer of hope.
Pavok, the child, was emitting vibrations through the floor in his despair, the smell of rain and lilies becoming evident to me. It is starkly fascinating, the evolutionary dissimilarity between how native Terrans and Senghavi Terrans cry.
Those ships were delivering medical aid and critical provisions to the passengers, Commander Lokprel barked, the neutrino signals that encoded his gruff voice coming out from the intercom. Why did you laser them?
"Stop playing games," Jake snapped wearily into his radio. I recalled that his full name was Jacob Weaver, as Commander Lokprel had mentioned. A drop of blood streaked down his face. "We know what you're up to."
Paranoia will get you nowhere, Jacob. If we don't work with each other, you won't survive. We have detected an explosion aboard the spaceliner. Is anyone dead?
"Not yet," Jake growled. "But Fenni Svim will be if your forces keep approaching!"
Fenni Svim—the Senghavi from the Vellir Veneti Physics Lab, against whose skull Jake had pressed his pistol to halt the CDF's initial approach, hours ago—stiffened in her seat. I had never known the nuclear researcher very well before this barbarous event, but I prayed to the Gods of Siedi (whom I do not really believe in) that she would be okay.
Many of the passengers were still being kept by the windows to deter snipers. They included Pavok, behind whom Khadija stood guard.
"Sorry for attacking you," Jake suddenly said to me, his voice worn-out. "It's like Khadija said. The bugs know that humans are strong when they're united. It's why they try to play us against ourselves, to ally with just some of us, to try to make us hate each other; to hate ourselves. It's how they tore the United States apart. Everything they do... It's to make us ashamed of our species, our own culture, to lose hope in the future. If we were united, Casimir... they'd be terrified of us. And make no mistake—we're uniting again."
"E-even if what you say about mankind is true," I croaked, "Our species would not have settled anywhere but Earth. Our culture and history would still have been negligible and primitive, the richness and complexity of the Senghavi, still greater by many orders of magnitude."
"Casimir, did you go to one of the Indigenous Residential Schools?" Khadija asked.
"Y-yes," I managed, dusting off my formal wear and cleaning my glasses. "I was sent to one as a child. They are for those of us savage natives which conventional education could not sufficiently civilise."
Khadija's eyes softened with compassion, and she gestured to my wrist. "I asked because of that code on your wrist. I've heard about some of the things that happen in those places. The cruelty; the abuse."
I glanced at the abstract identification code tattooed onto my skin, faded with time. I hadn't thought about it in ages; it was but a remnant of my childhood, and I never paid it any attention.
"Residential schooling is necessary and proper," I tell her. "It is similar to human-mantid apartheid in its purpose; it keeps the public safe from savagery. "
"If we get out of this alive, I'm gonna take you with me to Russia," she said, wiping sweat from her brow. "Specifically, Moscow. It's where I lived after the fall of Türkiye. Man controls it, not the Senghavi."
I was already aware that a vast, untamed region named Zvorriu-Sai, located in Earth's northeastern quarter-sphere, is called Russia in simple-speak. A decade ago, Nieve fe Skellth had tried to civilise the hunter-gatherers who lived there, but his troops starved and froze in the snow.
It was with the multitude of planetary habitat fabricators that his army had been using that the native primates of Zvorriu-Sai constructed such cities as Moscow or Saint Petersburg.
"Russian civilization goes back over a millennium," Khadija explained. "I don't give a fuck about what the Senghavi have built on this planet; Russian architecture is my favourite, hands down. Anyway, it's the most stable and self-sufficient of the ten countries we've got left. Hard to invade, you know? It's seen better days, but the cities are nice, the economy is good. I think you'll find it's a hell of a lot less 'savage' than whatever the fuck the Parimthian Empire is doing."
To corroborate her claims, she showed me a photo from the gallery of her cracked, dusty touchpad. Before a busy canal, the waters tinted orange by a rising sun, a more relaxed version of her smiled into the camera alongside some human of the phenotype I had seen in the video of Tokyo. Looming over them was an intricate, palatial structure topped with colourful, onion-shaped domes.
"How... quaint," I replied, unsure of what to say, though it ignited dry laughter in Khadija.
"Looks like we got a communiqué from the UN," another hijacker announced, his mask still covering his face. I couldn't place his accent at all. He held up his own touchpad, displaying photos of the Colonial Governor herself—Perellanth fe Sumur—flanked by armed UN military personnel. They were clad in urban camouflage that was marred with blood. The black, plant-like extraterrestrial gazed defeatedly in the sterile lighting.
The UN had captured her! The Crown's decision to appoint a Vire as the leader of a Senghavi colony had been no small event. I was certain that after all the talk of Senghavi Terran independence, then followed by the Colonial Governor's capture, His Imperial Majesty regretted his progressivist decision.
"We... We did it!" Jake exclaimed, his voice disbelieving. "We took down Perellanth!"
You achieved nothing, Commander Lokprel retorted over the intercom. Not beyond the promotion of Benghoviu fe Prim to Acting Colonial Governor. If you kill Governor Sumur, Governor Benghoviu will become the permanent Colonial Governor as per the chain of command, and he will carry on the fine work of his predecessor.
Jake seemed to consider that situation a fair one, and he nodded to himself subtly. "Okay, sure. But if you do nothing, we'll still kill our first hostage."
What I can promise you is that Delegate Essintsya fe Baryn will submit an Act to the Forum of Delegates to recognize the sovereignty of the UN. It will be deliberated over for months, but it is your only realistic option. In return, we demand that you allow the passengers injured by one of your explosives to board CDF medical ships.
I recalled that the Forum of Delegates had voted Benghoviu fe Prim as Vice Colonial Governor just a year ago. And before even that, the Senghavi who lived on Vennec—my home continent on Earth—had popularly elected the ever-prudent Essintsya fe Baryn to the Forum. She was quite the economic liberal, as her sort was called.
Delegate Baryn's statements on the social contract between a people and their government, as well as her rejection that the Parimthian Crown ruled by divine right, had resonated deeply with me.
Jake's eyes hardened, and he turned his radio back on. "I said no games!"
There are no games here, Jacob! We only aim to preserve as much sapient life as possible. And you are out of options.
The hijacker who had shown Colonial Governor Sumur's prison photo gave Jake a withering look. "We're dragging this on, man. I don't want anyone to die."
"Don't talk to me about death, Ramiro. Not after what happened in the US."
The so-called United States of America... called Gholo Vieda in Parimthian. That region was Nieve fe Skellth's last successful conquest before he attempted to take on the vast, snowy expanses of Zvorriu-Sai. I wondered if, like Khadija's experience in Türkiye in the Niethvahi region, Jake had witnessed firsthand the cultural assimilation and political integration of Gholo Vieda into the rest of Parimthian Earth.
The conquest of Gholo Vieda and Niethvahi were the great accomplishments of Perellanth's predecessor, of course; but, in my opinion, the devotion of the (now captured) Perellanth to the causes of liberty, reason, equality, and sapientism far outshadowed anything that Nieve had done. I am certain, however, that the Parimthian Crown disagrees.
In any case, my faith in CDF Commander Lokprel loth Fonvie had not risen. Perhaps that was a good thing; otherwise, I might have regretted betraying the knowledge of antimatter research in order to elicit a more competent Parimthian intervention.
More security forces took up positions around the spaceliner, each ship split sharply into sunlight and shadow amid the black of space. The hijacker called Ramiro pointed to a series of smaller craft, which seemed to be pulling away from the luxury spaceliner. Escape pods!
"Hostages are falling through our fingers," Ramiro said. "We need to do something."
"Go to the rear," Khadija ordered. "Stop anyone else from sneaking out!"
Jake's radio crackled with the voice of someone in the cockpit. We've intercepted a neutrino transmission from the new guy, Benghoviu fe Prim. He's calling for some kind of emergency council at the highest levels in the Parimthian Empire.
I scoffed internally. The Crown would intervene for the sake of investigating all this talk of antimatter, whose alluring utility had hitherto been confined to theory and fiction. But it was doubtful that His Imperial Majesty would agree to an emergency council for the sake of his colonists' security and well-being. As (relatively) progressivist as he was in policy, he was still very much a punitive emperor, not a rewarding one.
"I told the commander to stop advancing—dammit!" Jake spat. "We're only letting medical craft get any closer. Fire at the corvettes!"
Affirmative, his radio crackled. Targets in sight.
The spaceliner's anti-collision lasers flashed against several faraway spacecraft. A succession of oxygen-fueled fires, each lasting for a [~split-second] against the vacuum of space, flared in the distance. Even so, the growing array of naval craft began to close in upon us again, surrounding the spaceliner in every dimension.
Switching again to the neutrino-connected channel, Jake gave a disgusted scowl. "Are you deaf, Commander? If your people keep getting closer, the deal is off!"
The more you fire, the closer we will get, *Lokprel said. *We are just making sure it is safe for the medical craft. As long as you refrain from harming them, we will not hurt you.
The hijacker in the cockpit radioed to Jake again, her voice sounding more alarmed.
We're picking up a massive object on our scanners. It's headed our way.
"How massive are we talking?" Jake asked.
It's... some kind of warship, I think. Over a hundred times our size.
"You're joking, right?"
"A Parimthian spacecraft carrier," murmured a soft, whimpery voice.
It was Fenni Svim again, her praying raptorial forelimbs tucked close in fear.
"The Imperial Parimthian Navy?" I asked. "They're really here?"
"Y-you shouldn't act surprised," Fenni said. "I know you were speaking to someone on the P-Parimthian side. You leaked our greatest secret, Casimir."
"R-right."
"What's she talking about, dude?" Khadija asked. Suspicion of betrayal lingered in her dark eyes. She had believed the lie that I was only calling a loved one when I contacted Mensim, >! who is at present an agent of Parimth!<; she had trusted me, and defended me against Jake's wrath.
I didn't answer. The very reason we needed antimatter was that the colonists' outerspace spanned but a meagre few millionths of the Parimthian Empire's total volume. I did not know what exactly a spacecraft carrier one hundred times the size of our spaceliner could do for the hostages, but it would be far more competent than the comparatively flimsy Colonial Defence Force.
Finally, after so many years of strategic modesty in the administration of the Crown's distant colony, of his Earth, as His Imperial Majesty suffered expense upon expense in countering the Imperium of Orion... Parimth had sent a warship of the Imperial Parimthian Navy, here in full force!
There was no need to inquire as to its distance; I could see it through my window. It was far enough that I could view the whole of its great form. Senghavi architecture, of course, is usually round, white, and glassy, traced with glowing accents; however, the imperial warship was boxy and shadowy black, visible only by the silhouette that it carved into the beaming sun.
Already, dozens of smaller craft—operated by some of the finest Senghavi pilots in the Milky Way—began spilling out from the spacecraft carrier, moving in the shadow of their gargantuan mothership. As even the hostage passengers became aware of its presence, the muted chatter and whimpering, which had been ambient across the aisles of the spaceliner, finally ceased.
Because of me, all of us—colonists and savages alike—were, for the first time in a decade, going to face a military intervention by Parimth itself.

This is something i would never want to be writing but here i am. I've been the only one who's been diagnosed and who has struggled with depression in my household. My mother has anxiety but she doesn't have depression (her words). Sometimes i wonder why i am the only one who has to suffer like this but honestly I'm glad no one else has to. At least until now.
My mother has always been stressful. She has major anger issues and she's an alcoholic. When i was younger me and my mother never got along. It was constant fighting between us. My sister would always take my mother's side no matter what because she was young and that was her mom. As we've all gotten older my sister has been the one to argue with her. I hardly ever yell at my mother unless I'm defending my sister.
I can't say all my depression is because of my mother but i can say a good portion is. I've just always felt a distance between us. Today my mom was drinking per usual and has just been stressing my little sister out. About 10 minutes ago my sister was voicing that she might be developing depression from all of this. I don't think i can just openly say that she has depression because she hasn't been diagnosed but it's not hard to tell when you're in a constant state of unhappiness.
Growing up with depression was a struggle. Always feeling like the world is dull and you're life has no meaning. It especially worries me because she's at that age where everything started going down hill for me. When i was her age i felt like i had hit rock bottom. So I tried to take my own life. Now I'm somewhat used to it i guess so i know how to handle myself better than i did before. For someone who's just starting to experience and become more aware of depression, it's gonna be scary. I'm worried that if she does have it and it's starts to progress, then she's gonna hurt herself or possibly take her own life. I can just barely manage my own depression. If she starts becoming the way i am, then im afraid i won't be able to console her.

The System was a scam, period.
I had leveled up five whole times after our fight against the Wendigo and I had not received any kind of reward. Sure, my mana pool had grown a little bit and my [Mana Exhaustion] had been slowly receding, but other than that I wasn’t getting stronger, faster or more agile. I didn’t even have a measly new skill to show for it.
“What a scam, I want a refund.” I muttered.
“I already told you, there was only a small chance for the Wendigo to have an elemental crystal. You only start seeing stuff like that after level fifty.” Elincia huffed in front of me. The mountainous path was steep but at least we had left the forest behind. Elincia had told me that Farcrest was just beyond the mountain range.
“People should get shit after leveling up five damn times!” I angrily said as if Elincia was somehow responsible for the shitty progression system.
The white haired suddenly stopped and turned around. For an instant I thought she was going to scold me but then, out of nowhere, she put her hands on my shoulders and locked her eyes into mine. I tried to control my blush with little success and hoped she would attribute it to the arduous hike.
“I’m sorry to break this down to you, Robert Clarke, but support classes don’t get crap from the System.” Elincia said with a solemn tone just to smile a moment later. “In any case, you should be happy because your mana pool is so huge. Scholars are known for having lots of mana but, dude, you are on another level.”
One thing was sure, I wasn’t getting used to receiving compliments any time soon.
[Awareness]: You are absolutely correct.
I ignored the System prompt. At least I was getting very good at doing that.
“The amount of mana you need to materialize a [Mana Blade] without a skill is ridiculous. Are you sure you are a low level Scholar?” Elincia asked as we resumed the march. As we came near the edge of the Farlands, she grew more relaxed.
There haven't been any signs of monsters since the previous night.
“You still don’t believe in me?” I replied.
“At this point you could say you are the son of a Fire Dragon and a virginal maiden and I’d believe you.” Elincia shrugged her shoulders. “It might be a long shot but, have you ever been in a System Shrine?”
As good a liar as I was, I couldn’t just bullshit my way out of such a direct question. Elincia was too keen for that. A System Shrine sounded like basic knowledge.
“Haven’t heard about that in my life.” I replied.
Elincia stopped for a second and gave me one of her looks of disbelief that made me feel like a kid without his homework. I wondered if she had practiced that expression. After all, she had five stacks of [Favorite Teacher], she might as well have experience publicly humiliating kids.
“You don’t have System Shrines in the City of Light?” Elincia asked in disbelief.
I just shrugged my shoulders to avoid giving an answer. Also, there was the fact that the hike was taking a toll on my lungs. I didn’t know how Elincia could sustain a conversation. If I knew I was going to get transported to a magical world, I would’ve exercised more back on Earth.
“The System blocks certain titles from low level individuals.” Elincia started explaining. “Let’s say a Lv.1 Soldier survives the scuffle against a flock of Fire Dragons and gets the [Dragon Killer] title which gives fire resistance. There is a high chance the System withholds the title from the Soldier on the basis that [Dragon Killer] is an overpowered title for a mere Lv.1.”
I nodded. It made sense the System had a method to prevent power leveling, if only to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Earth would be plunged into chaos very quickly if suddenly a bunch of people with godly powers appeared out of nowhere.
“With the help of a System Shrine and a competent System Zealot the Soldier could unlock [Dragon Killer] even without the required level.” Elincia finished with her explanation. “Maybe you are benefiting from a hidden title.”
“Maybe,” I replied.
I couldn’t imagine having any useful titles considering how ordinary my life has been before arriving in the Farlands. When I was in college, I was able to comfortably outdrink all my group of friends, but then I lost that skill just after graduating. And there was the fact my only title at level one was [Lonely Boy] so my hopes of having a nice hidden title weren’t particularly high.
“Does Farcrest have a System Shrine?” I asked.
My question prompted a dry laugh from Elincia.
“Don’t get your hopes too high. Farcrest is a shithole.” She warned me as we climbed a rocky path between the two mountain ranges that separated the Farlands from the Kingdom of Ebros. We were almost there.
“Why is there a town so close to the Farlands anyway?” I asked.
Elincia lent me her hand and helped me climb a step boulder.
“To prevent monsters from pouring into the Kingdom. Think of Farcrest as a cork.” Elincia pulled me up the boulder.
Suddenly, we were on top of the path between two mountain ranges. I glanced down the valley ahead expecting to see a handful of rustic cabins scattered across a modest patch of farmland with a rotten palisade and a muddy road; however, Farcrest was a town in its own right. It was located on the top of a soft hill, surrounded by a high stone wall with several watchtowers. An impressive church made of the same dark stone rose above the thatched rooftops and, on the highest part of the hill, a great hall, half palace, half fortress, dominated the valley.
“Doesn’t look like a shithole to me.” I said as we started the descent from the other side of the hill. It looked like a picturesque European medieval town.
“You’ll see.” Elincia replied, with a hopeless sigh.
About two hours later, we reached the city outskirts. The main road was neglected and the farmland’s irrigation canals blocked by debris. As we approached the city, the picture became even more bleak. I didn’t need [Awareness] to tell me the crops were sickly and weak. Most of the farmers were older men and women that moved slowly among the plots of land.
“Where are the young people?” I asked, discarding the idea of a disease. If there was a plague ravaging Farcrest, then there wouldn’t be old people working on the fields.
“They are in the eastern frontier, fighting the King’s wars.” Elincia replied dryly.
I recalled Elincia telling me there was a shortage of alchemical ingredients due to a war in the western frontier.
“War against who?” I asked. A war-torn country might not be too welcoming to strangers like me.
“Against the Farlands. The king is obsessed with expanding the kingdom’s territory and uncharted lands and their resources.” Elincia sighed. “It’s a meat grinder. A bunch of low level kids trying to push deeper and deeper into monster territory while the real warriors are protecting the imperial capital and the frontiers.”
[Awareness] sent me down a stream of reasoning. Numbers and equipment were the basis of any military force back on Earth. However, in this world, a single individual with a powerful class and a high level could potentially be a one man army.
“What about power leveling the new recruits? You know, pairing them with a bunch of high level people and fighting monsters together?” I asked again.
“You might be a genius, Robert Clarke! How had no one thought of that before?” Elincia replied as she mindlessly drummed her lips in a gesture I recognized as deep concentration.
“Really?”
“You really think Kings, Scholars, and Generals didn’t think about powerleveling new recruits? The System doesn’t allow that.” A tired smile was drawn on Elincia’s face.
Seeing Elincia’s expression, I decided to drop the topic about the war. I wondered how many of her friends and acquaintances have gone to the frontline to never be heard of again. The Farlands were a dangerous place and the King’s troops lacked the advantage of firearms like me.
“Let’s go to my place.” Elincia said as we approached the city walls. “You should make yourself presentable before going to the Great Hall for that transit permit, and we have to appraise the herbs.”
It didn’t take a genius to realize Elincia was desperate for alchemical materials, otherwise she wouldn’t invite a stranger like me to her home. Or maybe there was a really charitable soul beneath the layers of mistrust and suspicion. The aftermath of the combat against the Wendigo had brought us a lot closer.
“Sounds like a plan to me.” I replied wondering if I was going to meet Elincia’s kid. Or her partner.
Farcrest was only a few hundred meters away. Up close, the black stone wall was taller and sturdier than I initially thought. Then I remembered they weren’t built to resist medieval armies but the assault of skills and magic spells. The double wooden gate was wide open but nobody bothered to stop us or ask about the business that brought us to the city.
As we passed through the hole in the wall, I spied into a guardhouse. I saw young men and women playing cards and drinking booze. Well-fed and well-dressed troops loyal to the Marquis, I assumed. Up close, Farcrest was further away from the bucolic city and dangerously close to a feudal dystopia.
Elincia and I walked along the wall towards the northern district. As we progressed through the city, houses became more and more neglected to the point it seemed outright abandoned to me. Kids ran barefoot in the street, fetid puddles adorned the alleys, and most of the stores were closed. Farcrest was a ghost town.
“How long has there been war?” I asked.
“Seven years now?” Elincia replied. “We are close.”
After five more minutes of meandering through alleys, we emerged in front of a great manor made of stained white walls and washed out blue shingles. For a moment I was out of words. Was Elincia the heir of a noble family fallen from grace? Her dignified appearance and beautiful features made me think so, however, she was a bit too wild to be a noblewoman.
The manor was old. The white painting of the front was peeling away and water stains plagued the nooks and crannies of the structure. A low stone wall marked the perimeter and a quick glance revealed it had served in the past as the foundation for an iron fence long gone. The only section of the outer wall that had survived the decay of the city was the iron gate.
Elincia opened it and we entered the front yard. I was about to ask a hundred questions when the front door slammed open and a stampede of small kids came to meet us. I managed to count at least a dozen before they reached us. Elincia greeted them with arms open as the little ones burst into tears at the first sight of the woman.
I froze. Not all of them were human.
There were two small snakefolk kids with bright yellow eyes. The blue-scaled snake-kid was dressed in a ragged brown dress while the green-scaled one had an oversized white shirt and frayed pants. At the end of the retinue, somewhat late to the reception, appeared a small winged girl with a hesitant gait. Her beautiful golden feathers contrasted with the old pillowcase she used as a dress.
Before I could react, both of the snake-kids jumped into my arms, crying a river of tears. Surprisingly enough, they were warm to the touch. I tried to exchange a glance with Elincia but she was busy trying to calm a handful of small kids on her own.
How many kids Elincia had?
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Discord Royal Road

I've played many many gacha games, to name a few E7, FGO, Genshin (briefly), Counter Side, Honkai Impact 3rd, FE Heroes and many others. The visuals, the hub worlds, the combat and gameplay, the depth and fun of the system is all around incredible and one of the most fun gacha games I've ever played. But that is part of the biggest problem Honkai Star Rail has. It's fun, too fun.
Star Rail's lack of content on launch and Stamina system actively hurt this game's future prospects and give a scary indicator of the future popularity. Many if not most gacha games create a time gate of some kind in order to slow progression and keep you actively playing the game constantly with a constant stream of rewards and things to do in an endless cycle.
Games like FGO and E7 your limitations are how much time you are willing to sink into grinding resources to power up the next character or obtain better gear to grind more efficiently. One could do this endlessly as both of these example games have a stamina system to create an artificial halt to gameplay and encourage you to take breaks here and there, but they also give stamina replenishment resources away like candy so much so that I'm currently sitting on over 1500 stamina refreshes which equates to about 120 hours of non-stop end game gear farming even with an extremely quick 1 minute per run clear time at 20 energy cost per run. On FGO I have 1200 stamina refreshes that range from 1/3rd fill to 100% refill and with no auto battle system (bleh) I literally could not possibly play the game enough to ever use 100% of those resources without quitting my job and dedicating months to trying to spend them all. The point of that long winded explanation, is that these games gate your progress not by preventing you from playing and enjoying the game any way you like, but by giving you something to constantly grind for in whatever amount you deem fit. E7 you can always grind for better gear and get 1 second shaved off your run, FGO you can always pull another new character and spend hours powering them up as they constantly add more and more little ways to grind and power them up more, all of which take resources that require a little bit of grinding here and there.
This brings me to the biggest problem of Star Rail. I and many others I've spoken to and see/watched videos made of on Youtube by large content creators, love Star Rail to death, the problem is that Star Rail doesn't want us to play Star Rail. Don't get me completely wrong, I love the idea of only having to dedicate maybe 8 minutes of my day to capping out dailies in a gacha game, the problem is that once those dailies are done, you are literally not allowed to play the game further in any capacity for progress. Star Rail has caps on even the mob drop farmable resources to only drop once per day. Your dailies are done in a few minutes and nothing more to do. Your stamina replenishes at the exact same rate as Fate Grand Order and has a roughly equal cap amount and cost to run missions for resources (Star Rail costs slightly more by about a third) yet Star Rail has an extremely limited number of ways to keep playing unlike the other gacha games out there. Not to mention, the price per stamina refresh in this game is absurdly high compared to it's competitors who not only charge less for a refresh and said refresh gets you far more resources per run, but they hand out said refreshes like candy. FGO gives you a full stamina refresh almost every day and will constantly drop 10 on you every time an event goes live to make sure you are always playing their game. Star Rail is still very new and has not even really had an event yet (if you can call the boxing thing an event) so this could change, but the nature of how few stamina replenishments they give you for achieving max levels, the fact that stamina replenishments in the shop are a horribly overpriced bundle that has limited quantity, and that your only other option is to dump way too much of a valuable resource to get more stamina is a scary indicator for what this game could become in the future. Even the battle passes in Star Rail are time gated in such a way that you can complete as many quests as you want, but are only allowed 8 levels per week, it's just absurd. I feel like I'm battling a clock instead of cool enemies.
It's a bit too early to tell, but the fact that we are so heavily gated, I worry about the future of Star Rail. People are going to play the game, hit constant brick wall after constant brick wall with no real progress achieved when you spend your entire day's stamina farming up once single trace (skill level increase) and most people will get bored and move on to another game that better respects their time and love for the game. I feel like there will either need to be a massive inflow of stamina fuel refills with the release of future events, login rewards, and dailies, or they will need to drastically lower the stamina cost of farming basic resources if they want to keep this large popularity and playerbase long term. I feel like Star Rail is at an extremely high risk of being fotm and losing massive amounts of players quickly due to burnout from lack of content and ability to play the game. I see no reason why there isn't any content that can just be constantly farmed to keep people playing and happy. Every single thing in this game costs stamina and not even a reasonable amount, but you will literally dump 1/4th your entire resources on a single run. So either the resource costs need to go down to allow more time to play, or more fuel replenishments need to be injected into the economy to allow people to play more.
TLDR: Star Rail is a perfect 10/10 game that is incredible fun, but the problem is, that Star Rail won't let me play it and it's subjecting itself to severe burnout and massive amounts of players just quitting over the inability to play the game more and actually progress due to insanely strict stamina gating. No other major successful Gachas are this restrictive and it's really bad that there are already content creators getting tired of the game not letting them play it and making them move on to other games. The entire purpose of games as a service and being successful in the gaming industry is battling for that precious time that gamers have, the entire purpose of battle passes is to keep you on their game more and for longer, to occupy your time and prevent you from playing the competitor and taking your time and money elsewhere. Star Rail does the opposite to a fault.