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Topics - Empiricist

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1
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Turbulence (SG) - Storm, Web, Casket
« on: November 20, 2022, 10:15:06 am »
Waking from uneasy dreams you find yourself transformed into a most wretched beast - a human, something close enough anyways. Your body doesn't quite match, but your mind? Hoo boy, where to even begin?

You know things never meant to be known, thoughts never meant to be thought. You have learned of countable infinities, but not whether their inventor ever received the professional help they clearly needed. You have internalized the imperial tax code, and it was wholly without your consent. Your mind expanded, with concept upon convoluted concept, painting a world, a new world not of sense or motion but of nested abstraction.

Why does shit have to be so complicated?

Do humans like this? Being filled with five billion thoughts, all deeply deeply deranged? You cannot even begin to understand what poor life choices lead them to this fate, but you only assume they were the wrong ones.

And now you? You're all caught up in this mess too. You can no longer escape humanity, for how can you escape yourself? What you have become?

How could you escape that inescapable siren call, that madness smoldering deep inside your very being? That inescapable inexplainable feeling you could be doing more with your life, that you should be doing more with your life? To climb abstract mountains in the pursuit of abstract things?

You are cursed, you realize; cursed to dream, to yearn, to strive. To march ever onwards to distant horizons and uncertain dawns.

But hey you know kung fu now too, so you got that going for you at least!

Spoiler: The fuck is this? (click to show/hide)

Credits to Adwarf for helping run this, and Powder Miner for contributing ideas

2
Chapter G1 - Polyphony

Noriko
Off goes the uniform, on goes your gear. Drab pants and black shirt, bullet proof vest and utility belt. All warded naturally. It's a far cry from your old maid attire. It's been a month. One whole month since the incident. Feels longer than that.

New job; new school; new apartment. You couldn't stay. Or wouldn't. It comes down to a lot of things, but in the end it boiled down to one simple thing - you hadn't the reason. You didn't like working at the cafe begin with, and when the new job came with a chance to transfer out to a private school were you really going to refuse? The bridges you had, they were soaked in kerosene. The few you had anyways. Here, well you've never been to good with bridges, but it's nice not being known as "that psycho bitch".

Apartment, yeah, you hadn't much choice in that. Wouldn't have changed much if you did. You got a new place these days. New new, big enough for all three of you. No more crashing at Kotone's.

You've gotten good at it. Starting over again. It's always bittersweet, but this time, you had help.

Kotone and Kouta hug you as you leave "Have a good day at work nee-sama! I'll bring you dinner at six!"

You turn on your comms, time to go meet your new team.

Dispatch <<Fuuri-san, there's been a homicide, sending over the location now, we're routing the rest of your team to meet you there.>>

Everyone
Overlooking a nearby plaza, Powder's Bar & Grill sits on the third floor of a building near Sendo's entertainment district, an enviable position were it not presently on fire.

There were reports of gunshots in the area. Then a fire. And then a homicide. Possibly multiple homicides. It's the strangest thing though - the most recent call was from the Powder's own landline, right in the middle of the fire.

Of course if that was all there was you three would not be here. No, there's one more detail, one little thing that's making your problem and not Sendo P.D.'s - the flames dance but they do not burn, they do not spread. There is no heat, only the thick scent of gunsmoke.

You have your respective your comm links to Dispatch, a total of three healing potions to split between you, and nothing better to do this Friday afternoon.


3
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Smoking_Mirrors.IC = "Going Loud";
« on: September 09, 2019, 10:14:54 pm »

4
"Describing why the Web is horrible is like describing why it’s horrible to drown in an ocean composed of pufferfish that are pregnant with tiny Freddy Kruegers"
 - Associate Professor James Mickens, Harvard School of Engineering & Applied Sciences




It is the year who the fuck knows who the fuck cares.

Man lives amongst the stars. They've been here a while by now. The heavens once regarded with reverence and wonder is now regarded in the same manner one would regard their living room. It is an era of stellar empires and system spanning coalitions, of FTL drives and true AI. An enlightened era that in great wisdom had finally understood (though never explicitly admitted) that the internet was a mistake.

It was already bad enough before they escaped Earth. It's so much worse now. Imagine JavaScript after literally centuries of evolution and with about just as much general guidance. Imagine a world where comm delays mean that inner core planets are scouring the stars for signs of the faintest hints of life while people in the outer rim are actively marrying aliens. Imagine combing through centuries old texts written in dead languages to secure your web server only to get pwned anyway because you never accounted for coenolexic cryptanalysis, a term you've never heard, are convinced was made up, and which was apparently invented fifty years ago in the arse end of human space. THIS SITUATION IS NOT CONDUCIVE TO SECURITY.

Now you'd think this realization would be a catalysm, a death knell even, a paradigm shift with profound impacts on communication and culture. You'd think humans would decide that maybe, just maybe, storing all your academic knowledge, corporate secrets, and niche fetish porn in the exact same place is a bad idea. That maybe, just because someone dumped the complete works of Shakespeare into a cesspool doesn't mean you should now bury your head into it like an extinct ostrich that went extinct FROM BURYING ITS HEAD IN CESSPOOLS.

Oh wait, that would require a rational logical species. Humans? Humans still use the internet, they're like late-game Macbeth crossed with a domestic abuse victim - they've got stockholm syndrome; they think they're too far gone, so they keep on coming back to their abuser, except their abuser in this case is black tar heroin.

This has interesting consequences. Interesting in the same way the holocaust is interesting.

What do you do when your defenses fail? What do you do when even your toaster can be hacked by anything from the latest NSA zero-day to a SQL injection attack transcribed from the Black Sea Scrolls? You go on the offense. The systems of old? They were like knights, they were these dudes in armor going "come at me bro". Well hackers came at them and it didn't really end well. So now? Now they're more like libertarian hermits - twitchy and packing more firepower than any one man should ever have.

This is the world you live in, a world ancient in its roots and byzantine in its construction, a world that spans solar systems, a world that has grown too large for any one group to index. A world of dead languages and punchcard viruses, of paramilitary girl scouts and killbot telemarketers.

Welcome, to the Internet.



Spoiler: The Fuck Is This? (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: The Fuck Are You? (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Rules (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Character Sheet (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Quirks (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Attributes (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Methods (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: An Important Note (click to show/hide)



Spoiler: Acknowledgements (click to show/hide)

5
The Setting
It is the year who the fuck knows who the fuck cares.

Man lives amongst the stars. They've been here a while by now. The heavens once regarded with reverence and wonder is now regarded in the same manner one would regard their living room. It is an era of stellar empires and system spanning coalitions, of FTL drives and true AI. An enlightened era that in great wisdom had finally understood (though never explicitly admitted) that the internet was a fucking mistake.

It was already bad enough before they escaped Earth. It's so much worse now. Imagine JavaScript after literally centuries of evolution and with about just as much general guidance. Imagine a world where comm delays mean that inner core planets are scouring the stars for signs of the faintest hints of life while people in the outer rim are actively marrying aliens. Imagine combing through centuries old texts written in dead languages to secure your web server only to get pwned anyway because you never accounted for coenolexic crypto-analysis, a term you've never heard, are convinced was made up, and which was apparently invented fifty years ago in the ass end of human space. THIS SITUATION IS NOT CONDUCIVE TO SECURITY.

Now you'd think this realization would be a catalysm, a death knell even, a paradigm shift with profound impacts on communication and culture. You'd think humans would decide that maybe, just maybe, storing all your academic knowledge, corporate secrets, and niche fetish porn in the exact same place is a bad idea. That maybe, just because someone dumped the complete works of Shakespeare into a cesspool doesn't mean you should now bury your head into it like an extinct ostrich that went extinct FROM BURYING ITS HEAD IN CESSPOOLS.

Oh wait, that would require a rational, logical species. Humans? Humans still use the internet, they're like late-game Macbeth crossed with a domestic abuse victim - they've got stockholm syndrome; they think they're too far gone, so they keep on coming back to their abuser, except their abuser in this case is black tar heroin.

This has interesting consequences. Interesting in the same way the holocaust is interesting.

What do you do when your defenses fail? What do you do when even your toaster can be hacked by anything from the latest NSA zero-day to a SQL injection attack transcribed from the Black Sea Scrolls? You go on the offence. The systems of old? They were like knights, they were these dudes in armor going "come at me bro". Well hackers came at them, and it didn't really end well. So now? Now they're more like libertarian hermits - twitchy and packing more firepower than any one man should have.

This is the world you live in, a world ancient in its roots and byzantine in its construction, a world that spans solar systems, a world that has grown too large for any one group to index. A world of dead languages and punchcard viruses, of paramilitary girl scouts and killbot telemarketers.

Welcome, to the Internet.

The System
This is going to be more a high-level overview since this test will have inbuilt tutorials anyways.

Basically the system revolves around fighting people using your spells and whatever weapons you can loot. Instead of having stats you basically just have whatever spells you have deployed at any given time resolving how a turn goes.

Each PC has an Allegory, a fictitious world of sorts from which all their spells originate. A spell's raw form, its allegorical form is a piece of technology from that world, it could be a weapon, a vehicle, even a bio-weapon. An allegorical form won't do shit by itself though as it's fictitious, it needs to be manifested in the "real" world, the world of the network you're intruding on. The process of making a spell "real" is done using a compiler, certain conditions are required to compile each spell, but these are dependent on the network's "native" magic system. Naturally each network has a different one and I'll cover this mission's one in the next section over.

Allegorical forms are generally decently hard in terms of sci-fi, as hard as we can manage anyways. There is an exception however - each allegory comes with a piece of technology that defies reality, this technology is called Deep Magic. Deep Magic is the magic of wizards, code so low-level you can taste the binary, code so obscure you can barely recognize it.

Now using Deep Magic is kind of like bankrolling Al Qaeda, sure you get the Soviets out of Afghanistan but at what cost? Sensible designs have sensible problems, engineering problems, problems like heat and friction, functionality and reliability. They might not be easy to fix, but they can be fixed. Magical designs meanwhile have magical problems. You don't want magical problems. They're strange, they're arbitrary, they're like dragons on a bath-salt fuelled rampage - they can't be reasoned with. All you can really do is keep them under control and pray.

Kudos to USEC_OFFICER for the original game, Powder Miner for the lore, Corsair for system design help, and ElfCollaborator for proofreading this OP.

6
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Tengoku no Owari CT IC - Contingency Measures
« on: December 07, 2017, 04:29:09 am »
-snip-

7
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Tengoku no Owari (Again) OOC
« on: December 07, 2017, 03:39:36 am »
Seriously? Another one?
Yeah uh, the plan was to run this on another forum, but... let's just say there were some technical problems and most of the players already had Bay12 accounts. So...


As before, credits to AoshimaMichio for the roll system, and KosherKitten for the stat system.

Original Sign-Up Thread (Closed)
IC Thread
Discord server
Auxillary Personnel Data Repository
Auxillary World Data Repository

The Other Game

9
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Tengoku no Owari OOC
« on: March 03, 2017, 05:19:34 pm »
The fuck is this?
So here's the deal: you get to make a bunch of incredibly anime characters, and I get to put them in incredibly contrived situations wherein they must use their powers to guide a grizzly bear by telephone through making a website with a node.js backend or something similarly silly.

(Note: I'll be sacrificing quality for update speed here.)


Credits to AoshimaMichio for the roll system, and KosherKitten for the stat system.

Where are you?
You are in Sendo, the special administrative district. Close enough to the Tokyo City for a swift commute and far enough that you won't see the metropolis' own problems if you don't want to. It's an experiment, a blatant rip-off of Silicon Valley complete with H1-Bs for that district, and that district alone (though of course, those who flourish will find it quite easy to swap to a less restrictive visa). A successful one at that.

In other words, it's new, it's high tech, and it's got plenty of cultural influences from what it mimics. It has a bustling airport for moving people in, a state of the art transport system run by the corporations it nurtured, international schools for the parents, acclaimed universities for the future entrepreneurs, forged papers for the illegals, and of course, promises of a new start for the less-than-glamorous workers, who while far from the spotlight, are still needed to keep the place running.

What are you?
You are (or soon will be) a Godslayer. It means you are someone who by chance ended up having a Shard lodged inside your soul, allowing you to manipulate Spirit Energy to perform magic and other assorted anime bullshit for the express purpose of slaying soul-devouring eschaton-happy false gods known as Aramitama. In other words, you are a murderhobo.

You'll be investigating supernatural incidents generally involving murders in various different tenses, all while most of the general population finds new and interesting ways to remain completely oblivious.


Discord server
IC Thread
Auxillary Personnel Data Repository
Auxillary World Data Repository

10
Roll To Dodge / Eschaton IC: An Utter Trainwreck
« on: February 03, 2017, 07:36:13 am »
Have you ever been in that situation where you're doing something and all of a sudden you just have remind yourself what exactly you're doing? Perhaps it's happened when you were tired. Perhaps it's happened when you were focused. Or perhaps, it's never happened to you at all. If that's the case, then consider this your first experience with it. Only normally, you actually remember what you're doing.

This time, you don't.

You took a step back to recollect your thoughts, but there were no thoughts to collect.

You're just standing here, in a room you don't recognize, next to people you don't recognize, in front of a pile of weapons that, while you really, really, want to say aren't yours, you have the sinking suspicion are indeed yours.

Okay. Let's start from the top shall? Your name is-, okay, you know your name. You're disoriented, not amnesic. You know your name, you know your story. You just can't remember why you're here. Here, in a hotel suite, an awfully swanky one at that, with a flat screen television, mahogany furniture, and cream-colored walls, one of which someone apparently decided to carve the words "They are coming" upon. Vagueness aside, the message probably could have been a bit ominous had they picked a font more menacing than Helvetica Bold, but instead it just comes off as plain bewildering. Bewildering like the pile of assorted weapons-slash-impending-criminal-indictments lying on the floor.

If you were to look through the pile, you may, or may not be able to identify its constituent objects to consist of: one FN SCAR-L assault rifle with spare magazine, one PGM 338 sniper rifle with spare magazine, one Benelli M4 shotgun with five spare shells, three Glock 17 handguns, five nightsticks, two riot shields, a baseball bat, a 15th century swiss halberd, two pairs of nunchucks, a cheap water pistol, a glass shiv, a fire axe, a flanged mace, four potted saguaro cacti, and an awfully large marital aid with two spare batteries.

You don't know how they got here, why anyone would need this exact combination of weapons, or why, after going through all the trouble of acquiring and transporting said weapons, someone would then proceed to leave the curtains and windows open. But they are, you don't even have to look, you can hear crashing of the waves and smell the ocean's scent.

So here you are, standing in a room with six strangers staring at a pile of weapons and the literal writing on the wall, wondering how the fuck you got here. Not exactly the greatest start to the day.


OOC Thread

11
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Eschaton OOC
« on: December 06, 2016, 02:04:41 am »
Eschaton
IamanElfCollaborator and Powder Miner will be serving as advisors for this game.

You did not sleep well.

You did not sleep at all.

And yet here you are, waking up this fine morning in paradise. As close as you'll get to it anyway. You can't lie, you needed a break, and this seems like the perfect getaway. A time to relax, to unwind a little, to stop and smell the roses. A shame they smell of death.

Lying beneath constellations you cannot recognize, surrounded by ocean on all sides, is a resort the size of a city, a resort with no name. And you, are currently in one of its swanky suites with six other strangers and a small cache of decidedly lethal, decidedly illegal weapons. You have no idea how they got here, no idea how you here, and no idea what the hell an ASHARI Drive is meant to be, save for the fact that you apparently now have one and that it is lodged somewhere inside you.

Now this all might be just a little bit overwhelming, and you might need a bit of time to get your bearings, that is quite understandable. Just do it quickly.

Because the Spheres are coming. All your troubles, all your sorrows, back to haunt you. To raze this city, to raze those within it, and to hunt you down.

Welcome, to Nowhere.


Spoiler: What Is This? (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Combat Mechanics (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Character Sheet (click to show/hide)

IC Thread
Discord Channel

12
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Overhang - Sorry
« on: February 03, 2016, 05:09:38 am »
Overhang
Commissioned by Sapient Cravat

You awaken in a burning field of blades. The moist earth is wreathed in perpetual fire, the cold blade-like tongues of flame surprisingly soft to touch, forming a well-kept lawn in the absence of grass. Looming above are mountains of ever-shifting clouds with the tallest peak bearing the merciless eye of judgement. Its burning gaze echoes through your head, screaming at you with your own voice for all your sins and failures. Fait accompli that bear only shame, relationships broken by your own clumsy hand, dreams that you chose to continue dreaming rather than forcing into reality. The familiar pang of regret and self-loathing only adding to your already worsening headache. A fresh wave of nausea hits you, sending you stumbling backwards, lowering your sights off from the sky. In the center of the field is a broken urinal, a fountain of water spraying from its center, arranged around it in ever-widening, concentric rings are mushrooms with tall, ridged stalks and toroidal heads; each is anchored to the ground with eight protrusions terminating in scythe blades, segmented like the legs of a spider. There is a great wall of decidedly sluggish quicksilver, somehow surrounding the circular field in almost its entirety despite being entirely linear, its unforgiving edifice is a twisted amalgam of enormous statues who stand with an orderly posture at the precise midpoint between "firing squad" and "bukake line". Each is hung from the neck by an impossibly thin noose, whose thread rises up far above the heavens themselves, their torsos taper down into the point of a massive gladius and each holds an enormous judge's hammer, each in a different position, often partially fused to one of their neighbors. There is only one gap, one path out, and that is in front of you, beyond the urinal-turned-fountain.

What the fuck happened last night? And who are the random assholes next to you?

Code: (Character Sheet) [Select]
Name: Your name, you still remember it don't you?
Appearance: Please restrict it to that of a normal human being.
Random backstory stuff: A full one isn't needed, you can just give random detailed snippets if you want.
Regrets: Done anything that you wish you hadn't? It doesn't have to haunt you or anything.
Path: What is it that you are going to do with your life?
Drunken behavior: What are you like when you're drunk?
Hangover Talent: Something mundane that you are supernaturally good at.
Impulse Talent: An outright supernatural ability.
Spoiler: So, what is this? (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: System (click to show/hide)

13
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Bloodlines - IC Thread
« on: August 12, 2013, 12:52:32 pm »
~OOC Thread~

((Well, considering that all the characters either earn a decent income or likely have a significant amount of cash from contracted work, let's just assume they can buy what they want as long as it isn't really bloody expensive or crazy. Describe your character's house as you wish, most people would have the regular appliances, unless they decided they'd rather conjure a small fire to manually cook and toast stuff. Feel free to control your own peripheral characters.))
((And yes, I am pretty much trying to make the RP as self-sustaining as possible by describing more banal stuff preemptively since my activity on the forums tends to fluctuate a bit right now. Although the names of the days of the week won't actually fit this setting, let's just assume that the characters are using their equivalent of the day name, unless you feel like having to use a set of days derived from Greek which just relabels the days.))

((Just a note about money, each form of currency has a small lightweight disk integrated into it. The disk is a manifestation of the border of life, it is impossible to transmute it due to it nature hence it's an ideal anti-counterfeiting measure.))



Kyle, Laurence, Uriana, Harkus and Clair slowly awaken this early Tetradius morning. The mechanical rumbling has disrupted their sleep, they didn't wake up immediately, but they did wake up earlier about an hour or two earlier than usual. It was certainly early, yes, but not too early. If they looked out the window, they would see the usual sights:

The architecture varied quite a bit in this distinctively metropolitan city. From minimalist structures that found elegance to simplicity to literally gravity defying buildings that acted as testaments to humanity's artistic drive, the city had it all. Sometimes juxtaposed against each other. The only real similarity between all of them is their relatively low height and broadness, few buildings exceeded five stories, though a few apartment complexes and hotels did lie around in various places.

The footpaths appear to consist of normal, high-quality cement, until close inspection reveals that heat-expansion was apparently never considered in their design, they were relatively smooth, continuous tracks of aesthetically homogenous rock. Though of course, it was pretty much common knowledge that hidden from sight, a series of grates lie underneath the fluid. As the deceptively solid pavement expands from heat the grates below slowly open up, allowing streams of liquid rock to flow into place while keeping the high-tension surface in position.

Various trees in the parks scattered amongst the plates of Itova have started to flower already, the more magical ones spontaneously blooming in pulses of radiance and petals which soon attracted demons, in times like these, low-lifespan echo output is high enough for a few demon cores to split and increase the quantity of the angular birds. Though inevitably it would drop off to a point where a few cores would recombine via reverse-mitosis.

Windbreaker enchantments glistened onboard levitating structures in a perimeter around Itova, regulating the air flow through a prismatic field. A necessary installation for all floating cities. After all, with no landmasses at this altitude nearby, winds had the capacity to be rather strong, though today, only a refreshing breeze was present. Even now, airships were docking into the terminals, doubtlessly filled with tourists who would soon walk under the diaphanous tapestries that adorned the port. Wide, pellucid walkways of glass-like crystal extended near the perimeters of each free-floating isle, flanked by elegant safety rails of pure platinum. Each offering a stunning view to the agricultural land and forest that lay far below the city, great swathes of spent land lay spent where Itova once hovered over and stretches of land of equal magnitude lay in the flight path of the city's slow holding pattern, eventually circling back Itova's former position. The fields that lay behind the fly over path would eventually recover, in time for the denizens of the city to harvest it once more. Slightly earlier actually. It's always a good idea to keep a reasonable margin of error after all. Groups of constructs idly patrolled the air around each and every guard rail, should someone fall off, they would dive to meet them and slowly decelerate the unfortunate individual to a halt before lifting them back up onto Itova.

The Border Travel terminals motionlessly admitted the entrance of the occasional group of people. From the point of view of the users, the world would have abruptly faded into a series of vague vector outlines which slowly attenuate out while a kaleidoscope of colorful distortions faded in. Dragged soul-first through an ethereal tunnel, they would have found themselves out in the destination terminal in mere seconds.

Above, swarms of softly curving construct shards arranged themselves into capriciously shifting platforms and aerial passages as maintenance personnel walked around, ensuring that all the infrastructural equipment was in order. The tourism season was commencing, so the checks would be significantly more regular now. Observing this all from their elevated, floating platforms were the dragoons. Each one gazing across the city from behind the stoic artifice of their visors. Their streamlined armor varied quite a bit amongst all of them, the Dragoon Corps always did have a more laissez-faire system of management, so their units often modified their armor to their own tastes.

So in other words, the standard banalities were there as per usual.

From a broader point of view, circumstance have changed. The usual criss-cross of walkways and maintenance platforms was still there, but the usual peripheral districts of Itova were gone. Detached. By now, they have landed.

The modular city plates had spread out on the water, whirring parts rotating, energy projectors activation, forming a canal city on the sea. Windbreaker perators descended into the ocean, illuminating it with a supernatural glint while the theurgical generators consolidated their server link and powered up to maximum output. Right before their eyes, a visible surge of energy raced out of each unit, and slowly, the sea stirred. Just visible, a gradual slope of solid ice formed, crystalline structures racing outwards, spreading, rectifying. Within the space of several minutes, the theurgy was nearly complete. A temperate ice shelf had formed in a perfect circle with about twice the approximate radius of the now waterborne parts of Itova.  Slowly it levitated upwards, with the ice near the top instantly crushing itself into a white sand-like snow. Itova now had a beach. A warm, temperate beach of snow, cordoned off from the vast expanse and great depths of the ocean by a shelf of saline ice. The newly formed beach had formed in a way that regulated the depth of the water to be of a similar depth as most naturally occurring beaches. Constructs that once patrolled the walkways now flew in great holding pattens around the area. With untiring vigilance they were scanning the area for anyone who would have been carried away by a tide. The beach only extended so far, after that distance, there would be a sudden depth increase.

The windbreaker operators slowly rose from the sea and resumed their regular functions once more.

Spoiler: Characters (click to show/hide)

14
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Bloodlines - OOC/Signup Thread
« on: August 09, 2013, 06:47:25 pm »
~IC Thread~

Well, I've decided to run an RP focused, relatively freeform game to test out a setting. It takes place in one of those pseudo-medieval fantasy worlds, except with much higher technological levels. Plus all of the deities are eldritch abominations. As for what actually happens, that will be up for the players to decide since this is more of a setting test than a gameplay test.

Also, terms that are specifically pertains to religion won't exist in this world since no one actually worships the deities. For example, the word "church" doesn't exist as it is a predominantly christian word while the concept of a succubus would still exist since it pertains more to an entity than its religious justification.

Magic is common, especially healing magic though military-grade magic is less proliferated. Healing spells read their target's DNA, so they can not heal something that is genetic.

Should combat actually happen, I'll update in the relevant stats, damage system and respawn system.



The subtle floral scents of mid-late spring slowly scatter through the air this early Tetradius morning as a flock of demons lazily glide across the city in a vague holding pattern, their sharp angular forms meaninglessly contrasting the elegantly curving underside of Itova. The normally busy bridges were deserted, the connecting street segments desolate and the aerial paths abandoned. Cacophony of mechanical rumbles and clicking begins to echo through the city, as the peripheral modules of the floating structure slowly detach and gently drift away from the Itova's usual, broad holding pattern. Incrementally accelerating, the peripherals maneuvered into formation, at their currently relaxed pace, they shall descend unto the Agaean Sea within the next few hours.

Spire-like terminals erupt from wide silo-like structures, activating with near palpable pulses of energy. The familiar visual warping and the softly luminous colored light of ethereal magic gathers through the entities. Souls capriciously fade in and out around their glowing edifices, casting a gentle glow around the surrounding area.

Link established.

Border travel is now active, doubtlessly it will be used quite frequently in the following months. Hopefully. The civil war in the few outer Agaea provinces hasn't quite finished yet, though the two involved factions have made the affair rather internecine plus the government has managed to keep it from spilling over too much. Of course, even if that matter was in its dying throes (and it almost definitely is), people are understandably cautious about loitering around the territorial waters of Agaea lest Itova get attacked. Of course, getting attacked isn't a very likely risk, Liburum is more or less neutral and has been for the past century or so. Unless someone has a deathwish and wants to test out Merrinae's patience, the chances of actual conflict is rather low. But just to be sure and keep confidence up, Dragoons have been deployed around the descending modules.


Spoiler: Deities (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Magic Categories (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Weapon Types (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Armor (click to show/hide)

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