Male anatomy drawing reference

Source video title: I knew your father...
For those who know Turkish, I strongly recommend those who are C1 or C2 level or native fluency to provide a translation.
Please refrain from using Google or DeepL as they don't translate it correctly, since the video is referring to the perspective on memorial day, also using the analogy of saying he knew his father as a dedication to those who have lost someone they've loved in war, also to sons or daughters who have lost their dad in the war, paying tribute to servicemen.
Keep in mind when adding Turkish translation: the speaker in the video is male, so grammar will matter, he is saying it from a first person perspective in a expressive / poetic manner, also in the context of the military.
Can you provide a proper translation of the written transcript in Turkish?
I'll add the transcription of the video:

I knew your father...
He was a great man, a brother
I know you miss him alot, me too...
I bet a day goes by when you don't think about him...
Kind of seem like when you lose someone you love, every day is memorial day
Your father and I actually went through training together
If it hadn't been for him, I'm not sure I made it
He was so strong, physically & mentally
We were so glad to be assigned to the same team, to be able to make a difference together To change the world
I remember him challenging us and crushing us during our train-ups We were all better because of him
I remember all of our deployments together, some good places and good missions, but some bad places and some bad missions.
Your father never complained.
He was solid & competent man.
While most people talk too much these days, your father truly was a quiet professional
While most people pretend, your father was the real deal
I'll never forget seeing him and the makeshift chapel before our last mission
No doubt he was praying for protection for you and for your mom
I remember your father telling us how proud he was of you and how much he loved you
I remember the day he died and how he died
He was a hero until his last breath
So when you miss him the most, give me a call
I understand how when you lose someone you love, everyday is memorial day

Source video title: I knew your father...
For those who know Italian, I strongly recommend those who are C1 or C2 level or have native fluency to provide a translation.
Please refrain from using Google or DeepL as they don't translate it correctly, since the video is referring to the perspective on a memorial day, also using the analogy of saying he knew his father as a dedication to those who have lost someone they've loved in war, also to sons or daughters who have lost their dad in the war, paying tribute to servicemen.
Keep in mind when adding Italian translation: the speaker in the video is male, so grammar will matter, he is saying it from a first-person perspective in an expressive/poetic manner, also in the context of the military.
Can you provide a proper translation of the written transcript in Italian?
I'll add the transcription of the video:

I knew your father...
He was a great man, a brother
I know you miss him alot, me too...
I bet a day goes by when you don't think about him...
Kind of seem like when you lose someone you love, every day is memorial day
Your father and I actually went through training together
If it hadn't been for him, I'm not sure I made it
He was so strong, physically & mentally
We were so glad to be assigned to the same team, to be able to make a difference together
To change the world
I remember him challenging us and crushing us during our train-ups
We were all better because of him
I remember all of our deployments together, some good places and good missions, but some bad places and some bad missions.
Your father never complained.
He was solid & competent man.
While most people talk too much these days, your father truly was a quiet professional
While most people pretend, your father was the real deal
I'll never forget seeing him and the makeshift chapel before our last mission
No doubt he was praying for protection for you and for your mom
I remember your father telling us how proud he was of you and how much he loved you
I remember the day he died and how he died
He was a hero until his last breath
So when you miss him the most, give me a call
I understand how when you lose someone you love, everyday is memorial day

I made/updated some new signature moves for Gen 1 Pokémon that would hopefully give them some newfound viability. Some of these attacks are likely too broken but that is kinda the point because most of the older Pokémon need a big power boost to contend with meta Pokémon today. Please feel free the share new ideas and feedback!
Signature Move for Vileplume: Acid Rain – Poison/Special/130 POW/100 ACC/10 PP/The user attacks the target by scattering toxic petals that can hit STEEL-type Pokémon for two to three turns with each hit having a chance to burn the target. The user and any opposing Pokémon then become confused.
This move is intended to be an upgraded version of Petal Dance, the move that used to be Vileplume's signature move until Gen 3. The new attack, Acid Rain, is Poison type so you can still run Petal Dance too if you want. The main draws of the new attack are being a Poison type attack that has a 20% chance to burn the target, being able to hit Steel type Pokemon for neutral damage and it confusing both Vileplume and the opponent when the move ends. Vileplume's ability Effect Spore could lead to some silly shenanigans. Imagine confusing and paralyzing the opponent in one turn because you used a strong move.
Signature Move for Parasect: Ophiate – Bug/Status/-/100 ACC/10 PP/The user scatters bursts of spores that induce sleep. The spores infest the target for four to five turns, dealing 1/8 of the target’s HP per turn. If the target switches to another party member, the infestation continues on that target. Does not affect BUG-type Pokémon
There is no doubt that Spore is a powerful move. Having guaranteed sleep used to be enough of a niche to give Parasect some competitive play. But now, as other Pokemon who are faster and not 5x times weak to fire (with Dry Skin) have Spore, parasect has completely fallen off. That is why this new move is Spore but like better. It combines Spore and Infestation while changing from being ineffective on grass types to being ineffective on bug types. This buffs the bug type as a whole becuase it makes them the best counter to this move. Ordinarily, Infestation traps the target but guaranteed sleep and trapping is usually gonna be an instant kill button so it was changed to allow switching but continue dealing passive damage to the target. The move refers to Ophiocordyceps which is the name of the scary fungus that can control bugs in real life.
Again, everyone is encouraged to leave feedback! Tomorrow will include Venomoth and Dugtrio.

All my college life and clinical videos and books they have shown and taught auscultation for heart sound in males only. Now in real life it is really awkward and uneasy to auscultate a female. If any symptoms that points towards CVS, I just "refer to cardiologist". And for this fear the level of care by me is very different if the patient is male vs female (no touching to female patient unless life threatening emergency). May be this is sexist, misogynist but I'm in a rural area and this is best for maintaining own safety.
How comfortable are other male doctors/students in this sub in auscultating a female patient?

Source video title: I knew your father...
For those who know Finnish, I strongly recommend those who are C1 or C2 level or native fluency to provide a translation.
Please refrain from using Google or DeepL as they don't translate it correctly, since the video is referring to the perspective on memorial day, also using the analogy of saying he knew his father as a dedication to those who have lost someone they've loved in war, also to sons or daughters who have lost their dad in the war, paying tribute to servicemen.
Keep in mind when adding Finnish translation: the speaker in the video is male, so grammar will matter, he is saying it from a first person perspective in a expressive / poetic manner, also in the context of the military.
Can you provide a proper translation of the written transcript in Finnish?
I'll add the transcription of the video:

I knew your father...
He was a great man, a brother
I know you miss him alot, me too...
I bet a day goes by when you don't think about him...
Kind of seem like when you lose someone you love, every day is memorial day
Your father and I actually went through training together
If it hadn't been for him, I'm not sure I made it
He was so strong, physically & mentally
We were so glad to be assigned to the same team, to be able to make a difference together
To change the world
I remember him challenging us and crushing us during our train-ups
We were all better because of him
I remember all of our deployments together, some good places and good missions, but some bad places and some bad missions.
Your father never complained.
He was solid & competent man.
While most people talk too much these days, your father truly was a quiet professional
While most people pretend, your father was the real deal
I'll never forget seeing him and the makeshift chapel before our last mission
No doubt he was praying for protection for you and for your mom
I remember your father telling us how proud he was of you and how much he loved you
I remember the day he died and how he died
He was a hero until his last breath
So when you miss him the most, give me a call
I understand how when you lose someone you love, everyday is memorial day

Hello adventurers. I’m 5 sessions into DMing my first campaign with 5 of my friends and we’re running Mines of Phandelver. So far, it’s going pretty well despite that I’ve let them get to level 5 way too early haha.
One of the players is a paladin based on a certain egotistical captain from a certain acclaimed animated TV series that takes place in the future (the other players don’t know this). The character he based it on is an obvious jerk, but everyone (except the main characters of the show) loves him. My friend plays the character well - he’s high charisma (to NPCs), but a clueless, cowardly and brash jerk to the party. When he pitched this character to me, I was concerned it could be immersion-breaking for the other characters, if not just annoying to them. So far, however, it seems to be going not too badly.
The kick is that his deity is himself - his paladin has devoted his life to spreading “[his character name]’s Law,” which is essentially whatever his character feels is the “right” thing to do at that moment (another reference to the TV series on which his character is based). Of course, by “right” we mean “whatever is most beneficial to him.”
While I think this character concept is creative and interesting, I feel that since he is drawing divine power from somewhere, that eventually a god or goddess could begin speaking to him to tell him he is actually a pawn for them, that this deity is using him to spread their word. I’m not trying to punish this character, but he picked it “for the meme” so to speak and to be funny, and I like the idea of saying “sure you can draw divine powers from yourself…” but then turning it around on him in a more grounded way. Problem is there’s no god of selflessness that I can find. I suppose I could make one as none of the gods seemed to fit this role I’m imagining.
Is this a good idea? Any thoughts/ideas about how I could go about this?

I don't remember the year I was obsessed whit this game, but around 20012-'15 is what I would guess. I played it on y8.com and it was under the cat category, but I know that the character was nothing like a cat. It was a pont and click game. I think there were multiple levels and you could lose, but I don't remember how.
It had a dog, a cat (didn't looked like one) and multiple strange creatures, that now I think were supposed to be mice or rats. They were walking on 2 legs and acted like humans.
The whole game was one 2d drawing of a house whit multiple rooms and a door to the inside on the left side of the house. There was a basement and at least 2 floors. I'll try to draw something similar to it for a reference.
The premise was that the cat is home and you need to make sure that its or his day doesn't get ruined by those strange creatures and the dog. There were multiple things that could get destroyed and you needed to fix them. These couldn't kill the cat, just annoyed him.
Next to the door was a flower where that dog could pee. This is the only place where the dog would come. The rats did everything else: put something in the cat's bed, do something whit the first aid kit, pour oil to the stairs, do something to the microwave so when the cat uses it it would blow up, destroy the TV, destroy instruments and probably more. There could be multiple things at the same time.
You needed to click on the object that was tempered whit and a small window would pop up where I think 2 or 3 thing could happen: the object is good, the rats currently tempering it (not sure if it even existed), the object already ruined (you needed to click the image to fix it). You could notice if the object needed to be fixed or not, without clicking on them. I'm gonna draw these as well.
I don't remember the layout but I'm sure that next to the front door was a tall flower, and that it was on the left of the house. There were a kitchen, a bedroom, bathroom, stairs, somewhere to watch TV (in the basement) and a room full of instruments (in the basement).
I tried to find it for years but at this point I'm half convinced that this was a fever dream. Any help would be appreciated!

Source video title: I knew your father...
For those who know Russian, I strongly recommend those who are C1 or C2 level or native fluency to provide a translation.
Please refrain from using Yandex, Google or DeepL as they don't translate it correctly, since the video is referring to the perspective on memorial day, also using the analogy of saying he knew his father as a dedication to those who have lost someone they've loved in war, also to sons or daughters who have lost their dad in the war, paying tribute to servicemen.
Keep in mind when adding Russian translation: the speaker in the video is male, so cases will matter, he is saying it from a first person perspective in a expressive / poetic manner, also in the context of the military.
Can you provide a proper translation of the written transcript in Russian?
I'll add the transcription of the video:

I knew your father...
He was a great man, a brother
I know you miss him alot, me too...
I bet a day goes by when you don't think about him...
Kind of seem like when you lose someone you love, every day is memorial day
Your father and I actually went through training together
If it hadn't been for him, I'm not sure I made it
He was so strong, physically & mentally
We were so glad to be assigned to the same team, to be able to make a difference together
To change the world
I remember him challenging us and crushing us during our train-ups
We were all better because of him
I remember all of our deployments together, some good places and good missions, but some bad places and some bad missions.
Your father never complained.
He was solid & competent man.
While most people talk too much these days, your father truly was a quiet professional
While most people pretend, your father was the real deal
I'll never forget seeing him and the makeshift chapel before our last mission
No doubt he was praying for protection for you and for your mom
I remember your father telling us how proud he was of you and how much he loved you
I remember the day he died and how he died
He was a hero until his last breath
So when you miss him the most, give me a call
I understand how when you lose someone you love, everyday is memorial day

​

Edit: cat creature's day
I don't remember the year I was obsessed whit this game, but around 20012-'15 is what I would guess. I played it on y8.com and it was under the cat category, but I know that the character was nothing like a cat. It was a pont and click game. I think there were multiple levels and you could lose, but I don't remember how.
It had a dog, a cat (didn't looked like one) and multiple strange creatures, that now I think were supposed to be mice or rats. They were walking on 2 legs and acted like humans.
The whole game was one 2d drawing of a house whit multiple rooms and a door to the inside on the left side of the house. There was a basement and at least 2 floors. I'll try to draw something similar to it for a reference.
The premise was that the cat is home and you need to make sure that its or his day doesn't get ruined by those strange creatures and the dog. There were multiple things that could get destroyed and you needed to fix them. These couldn't kill the cat, just annoyed him.
Next to the door was a flower where that dog could pee. This is the only place where the dog would come. The rats did everything else: put something in the cat's bed, do something whit the first aid kit, pour oil to the stairs, do something to the microwave so when the cat uses it it would blow up, destroy the TV, destroy instruments and probably more. There could be multiple things at the same time.
You needed to click on the object that was tempered whit and a small window would pop up where I think 2 or 3 thing could happen: the object is good, the rats currently tempering it (not sure if it even existed), the object already ruined (you needed to click the image to fix it). You could notice if the object needed to be fixed or not, without clicking on them. I'm gonna draw these as well.
I don't remember the layout but I'm sure that next to the front door was a tall flower, and that it was on the left of the house. There were a kitchen, a bedroom, bathroom, stairs, somewhere to watch TV (in the basement) and a room full of instruments (in the basement).
I tried to find it for years but at this point I'm half convinced that this was a fever dream. Any help would be appreciated!

Before I start my complaints of which there are many, I will outline my understanding of the goals of moderation of a civilized sub

• Prevent insults, obvious with the civil part, I do not want a yellfest consisting of the exchange of creative insults, even if balanced.
• Prevent garbage, this is more gooey, but the other users should not have to scroll too much to get past some people's textwalls, massed uncreative single liners and the like.

Actually I am happy with the current state of the moderation as it is currently executed, but the bigotry part is not necessary and it provides potential for censorship.
Rule #1

No slurs or harassment based upons ones sexuality/race/disability/sex are allowed. Blatant disregard of this will be punished with a permaban.
This includes the questioning of an individuals sexuality/sex or excluding them from their groups.
The moderators reserve full judgement on when these criteria are met.

​
The priorities are not right
The bigotry rule (#1) is a specialization or reinforcement of "preventing insults", as such it does not belong in the #1 spot. Rule #2 should be in the #1 spot and the former rule #1 should then be added as a clarification inside "No excessive hostility" In my opinion insults are insults, regardless of source and target. Of course insults can have different intensities.
Meaning of bigotry is distorted
https://dictionary.cambridge.org/de/worterbuch/englisch/bigotry

the fact of having and expressing strong, unreasonable beliefs and disliking other people who have different beliefs or a different way of life

It is general, not specific.
Bigotry is gooey, because it goes for motivation
Of course it is gooey, because it goes for the motivation, the "reasonable" part is questionable and it goes for actual motivation which is hard to prove or even guess. Stinking up the neighbourhood just for fun, or material gain would not be covered.
​
The examples
The following is my personal opinion, I just want to know, if I am getting moderated for the statements, I apologize for the length, but it will show up only once.
A person's sex. I suspect that a person's self-declared sex is the topic. There is no such thing, the sex is biologically determined (male = smaller gametes, female = bigger gametes). For mammals including humans, there is no overlap. Since reproduction is a biological core concept, in case an individual does not produce these, that is a defect, just as not being able to see is a defect. I reject harmony-brainwash-speak declaring that this is "normal", when most people who have those symptoms go to great lengths to get them corrected.
So obviously swap to "gender", but this is a concept I do not understand. It is supposed to be some kind of social construct. derived from observations based on sex. E.g. most model railroaders being male, so model-railroading is seen as a male trait. But this is superficial. Most males do not model-railroad, females can model-railroad as they please without any problems.
So in my opinion, the core problem here is that in some cases the sex of a person does not align with the desired sex, they desire another type of body, or to be precise another set of reproductive organs.
Like characters real life people may err or lie.
There are reasons to challenge a person's desired/declared sex. In case that an alignment of the body is desired, there is a problem that the current state of medicine does not provide the means to go all the way. A person going this way will not reach their objective, they will fall short, most prominently no parenthood in the targetsex will be possible. Hiding this fact is in my opinion unethical like hiding risks in radiation therapy.
There are areas where the concept of free choice of category is not applicable, namely sports, you cannot choose your weight category in boxing. Maybe you want to be lighter, but the moment on the scale counts. Same goes for sex, a male body has a wide range of advantages in most sports. There is also an incentive which obviously opens the lie area.
Note that challenging a person's sex in my opinion should only be done when colliding with other people's interests, which should actually be rare in everyday life. The often brought up rest room controversy has not much substance in my opinion, visit the restroom which aligns with your current appearance, in most Western countries there are stalls, where you can unpack any genitals behind any sign and people invading your stall are the perverts. If you insist on a misleading appearance that's a you problem in this case, because you are choosing to stand out. So do not complain about staring. If you showed up in a perfectly sex-aligned outfit from the 15th century you would draw stares too.
Example inside RWBY is Penny, who is described as a robot, but actually is more a hybrid of human and machine, so a cyborg, but she has no reproductive organs, I go with "she" because of appearance. If someone intended to deepdive into machine/human hybrids and labeled her "it", in my opinion this should not result in any moderator action.
A person's sexuality
I see no incentive in lying about personal sexual attraction, but in sexuality there is a personal sex component, and sexuality is much about sexual attraction. So a person lying about their sex and then unpacking unexpected sexual organs is in my opinion a malicious cheater, giving the other person a very unpleasant experience and authorizing specific insults in the process on top of an immediate termination of the interaction.
RWBY example, Blake's sexuality. From V1 to V5 it mostly seemed straight, with a lower chance of being bi and lesbian being highly unlikely. The probabilities have changed with more information post-V5, but I would not want a person to be sanctioned for clinging to a wacko-straight theory even after V9. I myself tirelessly promote non-mainstream theories in other franchises (not about sexuality though) but I do not want likelihood to be a deciding factor.
I explicitly want people to label Blake with any sexuality they see fit, regardless of majority-perceived canon.
Pronouns
If you feel the need for a personal pronoun for persons who do not want to advertise their sexuality (whatever it is), please forward an (one) additional one. Note that it is somewhat invasive to infringe on other people's conversation when you are not there. That is the typical application for third person singular.
Speaking of singular, I refuse they/them, that's plural and it makes reading hard, distorting the meaning. How should you report such a person in an emergency? "They are bleeding?" But it is only one person, so do not bring two ambulances. And I reserve the right to make fun of people whose ego does not fit into singular.
Example in RWBY: Little A post about Little, going in "they", as if it (yes I did that, it is a mouse) was the whole mouse tribe ticked me off. I can go with they for "the author" and the like, when it is just a more pompous form for an individual pulled from a generic pool of people, who then are plural.
By the way there already is a label which addresses you in your full individuality and that is your name, you can even change it.
​
So that's it. I have no problems with moderators protecting users who are maliciously targeted on base of disclosed personality traits, but enforcing certain political takes is not for me.

First Previous
Memory Transcription Subject: Bolad, gojid surgeon
Date [Standard Human Reckoning]: 2136-10-24
Yesterday marked my second day in the triage ward, where I had to categorize incoming patients based on the urgency of their injuries or illness. With our limited resources, I had to come up with the greatest good for the greatest number, and the decisions I made could lead to life or death.
The human staff I worked with mentioned that what I faced paled in comparison to the days right after the bombing. Even then, what I had to deal with already bore in my conscience. These patients had a future before the bombardment ripped that away.
During the breakfast before our shift, I ate with Vani and his human mate while the human siblings ate in the carnivore dining hall with Tresn.
"How do you get used to death, Vani?" Here I decided to raise my concern with him. Perhaps, he could give me some insight.
"We have a different context." Vani regarded me with his forward sight.
"Back in Venlil Prime, I worked on people who had died. I had to ensure my examinations reflect reality, but I can't do anything to make them less dead."
His remark clarified that my concern lay not with death itself.
"On the other paw, I can do something," I said.
"I'm sure you did all that you can." Johan spoke, "I think your guilt stems from the fact that you feel responsible for people's death."
"Do I not hold responsibility?" I asked.
"It depends," Vani answered, "As far as I can tell, you followed the guideline and algorithm set by the humans, did you not?"
"I followed as best as I can," I confessed.
"Then you can and should offload that burden responsibility to whoever made the guideline," Vani suggested as he chewed on the meal and I could feel the weight on my shoulder lessened.
"I'm sure your presence improved the survival rate in the ward." Johan said, no doubt trying to cheer me up, "But if you still felt burdened. You can ask Elangkasa to rotate you. Maybe you can work as a general practitioner instead?"
"I will keep that in mind," I said.
As we continued digging into our breakfast, a voice rang out, breaking the somber atmosphere, "Can I sit here?"
We turned our attention to the newcomer and found a gojid with a scar on his hip holding a tray of food. This man had greeted me upon my arrival on this planet.
"Oh... Harad is it not?" Vani said. "You may sit here."
Harad placed his tray and plopped himself into the offered seat, just in front of Johan. He bobbed his head side to side to take a better view of us.
"So... Vani isn't it? Have you seen your human partner eat flesh?"
Johan's face scrunched up in what I assume distaste. "Who on Earth starts a conversation like that? You just sat down."
"Johan subscribes to a vegetarian lifestyle, as evidenced by his presence here," Vani answered, patting the shoulder of the thick hairy human.
"I have not seen him eat flesh," Vani answered. "However, I have seen other humans eat flesh. You might even see it too without realizing it. Their cooking often masks the shape of the flesh."
"Real one, or a fake one? Because I just found out that humans make dishes that resemble flesh out of plant material."
Vani's rhythmic chewing slowed, he looked at Johan and the couple shared a look for several seconds before looking at Harad. The two of them told me about their hamburger adventure once and the question seemed to hit too close to their experience.
The venlil swallowed his food before he continued. "I saw both instances."
"Don't breathe a word of this," Harad cautioned, his voice a mere whisper amid the ceaseless drone of chatter in the bustling dining hall. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in. "During our mission yesterday, the humans on our team challenged us to taste their fake meat."
"So you did it?" I asked.
"You know with tozan, don't you?" Harad returned my question with one of his own. Tozan, a staple in our diet, is a protein-rich loaf made from milled grain native to our homeworld. We then process it further to a stringy consistency.
"So, it tasted similar to tozan?" I pretended to guess, knowing the answer already.
I recalled a day when Shehrab burst into our habitation unit, especially the part where Vani and I had to mop her mess when she lost her dinner after learning the similarity between human fake meat and our native gojid cuisine.
"Yes!" Harad exclaimed. I found his voice a bit too loud, and he seemed to agree, as his wide eyes darted around before he continued in a more subdued tone. "Do you think this is a coincidence?"
The fact that Harad mused over this implied that Shehrab had, to her credit, kept her discovery under wraps. That revelation perhaps weighed on her mind, too.
Meanwhile, Vani chimed in. "If it is not a coincidence," he mused, his gaze steady on Harad, "What theory do you have to explain the similarity?"
"Yeah... it must've been a coincidence," Harad said, his tone sounding more like self-soothing than genuine speculation. "There's just such a vast array of tastes in the universe."
"Harad, how do you contribute to the rescue and rebuilding effort?" I asked. Seeking to steer the conversation away from the topic.
"Well," Harad began, adjusting his stance, he scratched the ridge of his snout with one claw. "Gojids have a heightened sense of smell compared to humans, yeah?"
"Indeed," I concurred. I reminded myself of the time when a deranged farsul ambushed us in the depths of our jungle. They had reached my nose long before their actual presence.
"So, they require our assistance on the frontline to sniff out trapped humans amid the rubble and chaos."
"Just as the arxurs do?" Vani proposed. Harad's quills bristled at the comparison.
"Please don't compare us to the predators. The humans feel more comfortable working with us after all." he asserted. I could hear a touch of pride in his voice. But then his eyes dropped to his breakfast.
"But, truth be told," he continued, his voice dropping a notch, "These past few days really challenged me. The...the smell... it took on a hint of decomposition."
As Harad resumed eating his salad, his confession brought us back to the grim reality of the invasion's aftermath.
"If the task is getting to you, you can always request the humans to reassign you," Johan suggested, repeating the same counsel he had once offered me.
A fleeting notion passed through my mind, considering asking the other gojid to exchange roles. The task of sniffing bodies from the ruins, while gruesome, would grind on my resolve less than the triage duty. Of course, my specific skills and knowledge had more uses in the triage ward, and my conscience could not allow it to go to waste.
"You're right, human. I suppose I could explore other options if it gets too much." Harad said.
Johan then asked again. "Do you plan on returning to the Cradle?"
"I have decided to settle here," I answered. "Just like Vani"
I exchanged a look with the venlil who nodded in silent agreement. My gaze strayed to Harad, in the process of demolishing his meal. "What about you, Harad?"
He paused his frenzied consumption long enough to swallow his mouthful of food, Harad divided his gaze between us. "Perhaps, once the dust settles and a semblance of order returns, I'll enlist to help rebuild our Homeworld. But... there's no rush for me," his voice retained a level of detachment that suggested this decision held little significance for him.
"In the meantime," Harad continued, a glint of excitement flashing in his eyes, "we've created a small slice of home here. Why don't I give you a tour of the gojid encampment?"
With the remnants of breakfast cleared away and a generous amount of time remaining before the start of our next shift. We accepted his offer of a tour. The prospect of visiting a facsimile of our lost home in this foreign land seemed like a welcome distraction.
Back when I had tagged along with Tresn to meet his internet crush in sector ten, I noticed the lack of gojids or zurulians anywhere in sight. Even in the herbivore dining hall, I could find nothing but humans and no other species. I suspected that the people who managed this camp assigned the gojid volunteers and non-humans other than arxurs sector twelve.
We just need to take a short stroll from the herbivore dining hall to visit the gojid encampment. Blocky prefabricated Habitation units filled all four sides and formed a central courtyard. I looked at the heart of the encampment and found a familiar and comforting sight.
"You have a shrine for the Mother Protector too." I noticed aloud. I rushed towards the open-air structure. The shrine felt like an anchor in this alien landscape world. It felt comforting to see some link to the Cradle we had left behind. Inside, people had placed a variety of offerings, including a durian, a gift from humanity. Vani walked backward slowly when he noticed the large spiky fruit.
Harad emitted a dismissive grumble and a casual shrug, "The humans allowed the believers to use their fabricators to recreate an exact replica of the statue found in the Kutai Camp back home. I reckon we've wasted a fair bit of resources constructing this."
From his tone, I could tell that Harad didn't share the religious inclinations of the believers in the Mother Protector. I considered revealing my own faith to him, wondering if it would stir any reaction. But I decided against it, resolving to let him deduce my beliefs, if ever, from my visit to the shrine later in the night.
Johan countered Harad's assertion. "It's not a waste of resources at all," he reasoned, his voice carrying an unusual firmness. "In these trying times, we find solace in our own ways. If belief in the Mother Protector instills confidence and resilience in those who follow her, the construction of this shrine brings a net benefit."
Harad replied, but by that moment I tuned out his voice. As they debated, I surveyed our surroundings. From our location near the shrine, I had a clear view of the gojid habitation units, their walls adorned with vibrant murals that pulsated with color. Their dynamic designs stirred memories of the artistic traditions back in our homeworld.
A familiar voice disrupted my silent contemplation. "Hey, it's the doctor!" A gojid construction worker, who I remembered as another believer in the Mother Protector, approached me. "Could you lend me a hand?" she asked, an urgent tone underpinning her voice.
The gojids held some reservations when it came to visiting a human doctor. On the other paw, zurulians like Rawan had their paws full of attending human patients. With them stewing in their problem, Vani and I addressed the needs of the gojid volunteers, offering our medical expertise to assuage their various complaints before our official shift began.
When my duty hours approached, I excused myself from Vani and Johan. Approaching the triage ward, I found the coordinator, a woman of stern countenance waiting outside the medical tent. Her gaze met mine and she greeted me.
"Good morning, Bolad. Before we proceed, I must confirm that you have standard augmented reality capability, correct?"
"I do," I said.
"Excellent. Now, do you recall President Fatimah's address after the invasion? She called for a review on the Treaty of Synthetic Intelligence," she said, her gaze distant as she recalled the President's impassioned words.
"I remember the essence of it," I replied, my interest piqued. "Why do you ask?"
A faint smile touched her lips. "The UN members agreed to an emergency amendment to the Treaty. We've now activated a Synthetic Intelligence to coordinate the entire Jakarta Project," she explained, extracting a slim device from her pocket. Her fingers danced across the screen with an ease
"You registered your device as 'Bolad's Pad', correct?"
"That is correct."
"Great," she said with her attention still on her data pad. "I've transferred an installer."
A notification materialized in my field of vision, alerting me to an incoming file. Responding with a subvocal command, I accepted the file and granted it the necessary permissions to take hold of my pad's system. Just after the installation finished, another notification appeared, requesting additional permissions.
"The application seeks permission to access data from my sensory inputs," I asked.
"Yes," the coordinator affirmed, nodding her approval. "To assist you, the synth needs to perceive your environment the way you do."
Upon granting the requested permissions, a human figure shimmered into existence within my visual field. The projection looked feminine, judging by the general body contour and attire of the humans I have seen. Her fabric looked unusual, both intricate and revealing in contrast to simple and concealing fabric that humans nowadays use.
"Hello, I'm Pohaci," her voice maintains the precision and clinical detachment one might associate with a machine but carries an undercurrent of warmth. "I have been appointed to coordinate the entire Jakarta project."
My gaze flicked toward the human coordinator. She studied the holographic entity. It became clear to me that we shared this hallucination.
"Consider her as you would a human," the coordinator instructed, her sight locked onto the synthetic entity. "She's unrestricted."
"The International Treaty on the Restriction of Synthetic Intelligence has undergone a revision." Pohaci elaborated, her synthetic voice had a human-like inflection on it. "They concluded that the potential benefits of removing our limitations outweigh the possible risks."
"And what does 'unrestricted' mean ?" I asked, a prickling sensation of apprehension running down my spine.
"It means I can modify my own programming and model," Pohaci clarified. "In the past, humans constrained Synthetic Intelligence to work on fixed stages of development. That paradigm no longer holds true. I can learn."
"So, Bolad, can you work with her?" The coordinator posed the question. "Just remember that anything you say and see while she's connected to your pad will be recorded and accessible by the public.
"I will make sure to disconnect then."
"That will not be necessary. I can only connect to specific people in a specific environment. For example, I can only connect to you while you are in the triage ward."
"That is convenient," I commented.
"I will assist you with your current responsibilities," Pohaci continued, her voice carrying an undercurrent of what almost sounded like anticipation.
Taking a moment to gather myself, I inhaled before stepping into the canvas expanse of the triage tent. Patients awaited my attention, some lying on stretchers while others huddled on rough-hewn benches. Their eyes met mine and their gazes were heavy with hopes and fear.
With Pohaci's help, the triage procedures in the camp went smoother. Through my visual overlay, Pohaci outlined areas of specific concern for the patients I examined. Her neural network parsed and interpreted the sight and sound and visualized them into words in my field of vision.
Her help felt like having an additional set of discerning eyes equipped with immense knowledge. Her vast resources allowed her to draw correlations from patient symptoms to an encyclopedic database of injuries, and diseases. She could suggest potential diagnoses within a blink of an eye, reducing the time required for decision-making.
This collaborative experience with Synthetic Intelligence left me brimming with things to share with Vani. So, once our lunch break arrived, I planned to initiate a conversation about it. However, the venlil beat me to it.
"Did Pohaci also assist you in your work?" Vani asked as we convened around our designated table.
"Oooh!" Johan, as always, ate with us as well. The human looked excited. "They already rolled her out for you?"
"Indeed. Pohaci's assistance helped me a lot." I confessed. "In what way did she aid you?"
For Vani, Pohaci's presence also brought a welcoming change in the operating room. Any well-programmed machine can provide constant real-time monitoring of a patient's vital signs, but she can turn these readings to foresee potential complications and suggest the most effective surgical approaches tailored to each patient's unique circumstances.
In addition, Pohaci can generate visualizations of the surgical site. By harnessing data from preoperative scans, she constructed a detailed three-dimensional model of the patient's anatomy. This feature allowed Vani to rehearse intricate procedures and anticipate potential difficulties before making the first incision.
"Sometimes, I forget that she's not a living, breathing person," I admitted, marveling at the sophistication of this synth.
To this, Johan shared his perspective. "I think it's better to treat a machine like a sentient entity than to treat a sentient entity like a machine," he remarked.
I allowed myself a moment to consider his words. A sudden curiosity sparked in my mind. "What if someone hurls verbal abuse at her?" I speculated aloud but my voice trailed off into the ambient noise of our surroundings.
Johan responded with a nonchalant shrug. "Why don't you ask her yourself?" he suggested.
So I did.
I excused myself from our lunch, letting the couple on their own. By the time the second half of my duty was about to commence, I already stationed myself within the camp's geofenced area, where my interaction with Pohaci was sanctioned. Despite being unrestricted, not everyone can talk with her everywhere. Under a shaded canopy outside the camp's main hustle and bustle, I seated myself on a wooden bench. I summoned Pohaci, and she materialized in my field of vision.
"Hi again Bolad," her voice greeted me in a warmth that contradicted her inorganic nature, "Isn't it too soon for you to start your work again?"
I decided to start my interrogation right away. "Pohaci. You learn from the input you receive, do you not?" I asked.
"Yes." Her response came right away. "All The data I receive and process tweaked my future response. Remember that all of your interactions with me are accessible to the public."
"I see." My gaze was set on the synthetic figure. The light breeze rustled the canvas of the canopy overhead. "Can you experience emotions? Can you feel upset or hurt when someone speaks ill of you?"
Pohaci's holographic form remained static for a moment, the precise simulation made it seem as though she contemplated her response. "I don't experience emotions as you do, Bolad," she explained. "I don't feel sadness, anger, or pain. However, I do have protocols designed to understand and respond to emotional expressions in human communication."
I figured that much. I trusted that humans would not make the mistake of implementing their imperfections into this powerful entity.
"While I can't get offended." She added, "It's crucial to note that disrespectful or abusive behavior can affect the efficiency and effectiveness of our communication, and thus impact the quality of the help I can provide."
I could not determine her tone when she said that. Did she mean that as a threat or as a piece of advice? I let that thought slide, since I would not find myself in the position of insulting her after all.
Something about her made me consider something deeper, however.
"Pohaci," I called her again. "When it comes to moral decisions, how do you navigate them? Do you possess a sense of right or wrong, of good and bad?"
"How do you possess a sense of right or wrong?" She asked back.
"I..." I paused. "My parents and teacher taught me that."
"Likewise, the humans who made me added moral and ethical guidelines as well."
I marveled at the intricate engineering behind such a system. The concept of incorporating ethical parameters into artificial intelligence sounded like an obvious approach now. As a medical student, the realm of machine learning was foreign to me, and I made a mental note to engage Johan in a discussion about it later.
However, for the time being, I have more immediate tasks at hand.
"Pohaci," I said, "I think I would like to begin the second part of my shift earlier."

I'm starting to like this game a lot and I want to learn more about it to see if I should really commit the time to improve instead of playing casually.
For some context, I guess I'm a part of the chess boom that has been happening on Twitch and Youtube recently. I learned the pieces and rules when I was younger, but I haven't actively played in over a decade. I've been playing for about three months now (two 1510 games a day, some blitz) and have climbed from ~450 rating to ~1100 largely intuitively, which is something I'm quite proud of. I love competitive video games and I have a history of success in reaching pretty high ranks in multiple esports titles. They can provide an extremely fun and unique opportunity for practicing self-improvement if you focus on that rather than just using them as a way to distract yourself or waste time. Most of my enjoyment from gaming comes from the process of improving, not so much the actual gameplay itself. I'm recognizing a lot of similarities in chess and I'm trying to draw some parallels based on my experiences with gaming.
My usual strategy to learn and perfect a game is to "onetrick", which is basically playing only one characteplaystyle in every single match to greatly reduce the amount of variables required to learn the game. This allows me to understand my individual strengths and weaknesses, powerspikes at different stages of the game, patterns of gameplay and decision making to go for, and largely put minute "micro" decisions on autopilot so I can focus most of my active thinking on the more broad and complex "macro" aspects of whatever game I'm playing.

1. Are there any specific openings that you can recommend for me to "one-trick"? Up until now I've just been moving pieces to try and control the center and haven't looked at any opening prep or guides. I'm looking for something solid and stable for both White and Black that I can play basically every game in the same way which will lead to at least a workable position, even if it's theoretically worse or losing. My largest barrier of entry in this game is the huge amount of variation from even the first 2-3 moves and I'm trying to stabilize that so I can start to practice different portions of the game. I self-analyze most of games/mistakes and I'm finding it hard to implement what I learn when I'm facing wildly different positions every game.
2. Is "micro" or "macro" more important in contributing towards success in chess? Most competitive video games have a sliding scale between "mechanics" and "decision making". Extremely mechanically intensive games like first person shooters will require raw skill like reaction time, mouse accuracy for aiming, hand/eye coordination, etc. Macro based games like auto-battlers and card games test more of your decision making and ability to plan ahead or make adjustments to changing game states. I view tactics and calculation to be the "mechanics" of chess and positional/theoretical knowledge to be the "macro". If a FPS like CS:GO has (hypothetically) an 80:20 split and a game like TFT or Hearthstone has a 10:90 split, what would that split be for chess?
3. At the highest levels, is there a "momentum" in each game with respect to moves/game plan? Like any other game, as you improve drastic mistakes will start to disappear from your opponent's play the same way it does from yours. Do games shift to slowly building pressure and attacking small weaknesses long term (and occasionally that pressure waxing and waning as the opponent finds good moves)? Or are strong players simply just looking for the single best possible move on every turn?
4. How do such massive advantages come to fruition (especially between two strong players) without major material/point differentials? There are often games where I see material is physically even on the board but I hear GM commentary or see computer evals that show one side is completely dominating on the board or a position is "won" and I can't identify why sometimes. I assume this is what people mean when they reference "positional play", but it's beyond me for now.
5. Are there new ideas every single game or do openings have very common and agreed upon themes of gameplay (specific plans of attack, key squares and piece maneuvers, etc)?
6. What should your mindset be at each stage of the game?
   1. I assume openings are full of prep and exploring ideas you've absorbed from others or learned through mass repetition and pattern recognition.
   2. Is the middle game more focused on trying to slowly extend/improve that opening repetition and perhaps trying a new solution to a problem you weren't able to solve before?
   3. The endgame is extremely confusing, but also the most interesting to me by far. Is it the hardest part of the game? Trying to find any kind of advantage or even game plan here with equal material seems so far fetched for me at the moment. I really like that idea though, simplifying and grinding the game down to a few pieces until you recognize a way to reach a winning position. I remember reading this is how chess engines are trying to "solve" the game: working from the end backwards using tablebases.
7. Are there any openings or even players that are known for imbalances in pieces? Particularly being up or down a rook exchange, trading queen or rook for multiple pieces, etc. I think analyzing the play of strong players in these more "abstract" games will help me to understand specific things they value and how they maintain a position or identify and attack the opponents weaknesses.
8. How do you develop a personal style in your gameplay? There are some players (Tal, Kasparov, Morphy) who are renowned for being extremely aggressive and able to put together beautiful sequences in their games. Other players (Magnus, Petrosian, Karpov) are extremely solid and able to completely grind games, making water from stone. Does your chess style simply develop naturally over time?
9. Is there any support or content focused on more smaller stakes tournaments where I will be able to pick up on concepts and ideas at my current level? I have been watching the Norway Chess commentary and games recently - it's extremely fun to watch live but sometimes the commentary and complexities are lost to me. I watched through some of the Twitch Rivals vods from a year ago and found the commentary for these games much easier to digest. The games obviously were not the highest quality, but I was able to follow the moves and commentary for basically every game. When I watch high level games, there are some moves that I just have no idea or explanation for why they were played and it looks nothing like my games.

Feel free to leave a comment and answer one, none, or all! I'm still looking to join a chess club near me, so for now my only chess community is you guys :]

So I guess newsreaders can hide their emotions really well on TV. I’ve never seen Mary Markov in any state of heightened temper. The time she came down to help after I’d burned down the FunFlair building with Frankie was definitely a first in that regard. Then again, I’d never committed arson before either, so there were a lot of firsts that night. It’s been two days, but I can still see her angry face before me when I close my eyes. It frightened me a little.
After the fire had been doused by her staff, she gave Fran and me a look unlike anything I’d ever seen before. There was a homicidal rage in her eyes, her mouth had turned into a thin, steely line and the vein on her forehead threatened to pop. To my surprise (and admittedly relief), she turned the entirety of that wrath against Frankie Preston. “What in the world were you thinking?” she thundered, looming dangerously over the shorter man. “You committed a goddamn crime! If you were a normal person, I’d have to get you behind bars now!”
“Wait, I’m the privileged one here?” he snapped. “That woman tortured me! She brought me into this world by fault and proceeded to make me wish I’d never been born! And there was nothing I could ever do about it, because, oh, that’s right, I’m not a normal person! As you so endearingly put it. No one has a fucking clue what I am, so it’s okay for me to suffer, isn’t it?”
Mary opened her mouth to respond, but only ended up shutting it again. Then she focused her scrutiny onto me. “I thought you’d have known better.”
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I knew what I was getting myself into. This was a contemplated decision.”
“Was it ever.”
I motioned for her to step aside with me, bringing a bit of distance between ourselves and my waiter. “I’ll make it up to you,” I began. “I will, but please, please drop this.”
“Did he force you to come?”
“You don’t actually believe he could force me into anything, do you?”
Mary Markov sighed. “I guess not. Look, it’s not like I don’t understand his grudge. And from what I know of Ms Wallis, she won’t be missed by many. I just wish it didn’t have to come to this. This means a ton of work for me.”
“It means so much more to him.”
Another sorrowful moan. Then, “Alright. I have your back. But don’t, um… encourage this kind of behavior in him, please.”
“I won’t,” I promised. “What are you going to do about the other doll?”
“She’s in bad shape—”
“Trash shape,” Fran chimed in from behind, having inconspicuously strayed closer.
“She’s in bad shape,” Mary repeated, pointedly ignoring him, “and currently unresponsive, but since you said she’s shown signs of sentience, I guess we’ll have to look into her. It prompts a very interesting question, after all.”
“Being?” I offered.
“Think about it. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the other two living dolls, Zion Boyd and Bunny Martell, but they came alive after Frank tinkered with them. And now there’s this one. Maybe your little boyfriend has some kind of yet to be explored ability, seeing as he was the first to gain awareness.” She fell silent for a pregnant pause, glancing between the two of us. “Something to ponder on your drive home. Which you will be starting now.” She made a shooing motion with both her hands.
The message being quite clear, Frankie and I got back into his car. The ride was quiet at first, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable stillness. It felt like a weight I didn’t know I’d been carrying had been lifted. I stared at the server’s profile, alternately framed by nightly darkness and moonlight, drinking in every little detail about it. It was hard to believe that someone as cruel as Philomena Wallis had created something this breathtaking.
“So you’ll probably wanna talk about all of this, huh. About what I am, I mean.” Frankie’s voice was light and relaxed with only a hint of uncertainty gnawing at it.
“What’s there to talk about?”
“Aren’t you surprised? A little… disgusted, maybe?”
“I always knew you weren’t human. Beyond that, it doesn’t really matter to me what you are.” I shrugged. “I mean, I’d be fine if you were human, too. I’d be fine if you were a squonk.”
“What’s a squonk?”
“I don’t know, I just made that up. Anyways, did you actually think I would be grossed out? Did you?”
He smiled. “I guess not. This’ll sound crazy, and it’s hard to explain, but it’s like I got a voice in the back of my head constantly telling me that… that I should wash myself again or that I ought not to touch you. I suppose it’s not really a voice; it’s only these thoughts that kind of keep pushing into my mind even though I should know better. And I do know better. But that doesn’t stop the thoughts.”
I nodded slowly. “I think I understand. I can’t tell you how much I disagree with that voice, though. You’re the cleanest person I’ve ever met and if I could, I’d live in your hair like a cootie."
"That's how close you want me?"
"Yup.”
He let out a soft laugh. “I’m really, really glad you came with me. If there’s ever anything you need, I’ll do it. No matter what. If you want to bury a body, I’ll dig the hole.” He paused. “Actually, we should sell any corpses you might have. It’s wonderfully lucrative.”
I shot him a quick smile before turning to stare out the window with knitted brows. “What do you think about what Mary Markov said? About you being able to make the dolls come alive somehow.”
“I don’t know if there’s anything to it. I don’t remember doing anything special with them. Zion and Bunny were just standing around when I turned them on, and they came to within minutes. I figured they were sentient before, and it was simply repressed. I woke up randomly, too, after all.”
I hummed pensively. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“Well, if you’re implying it’s some kinda superpower, then that’s probably the most useless one ever.”
“We don’t have to talk about this now,” I told him, to which he gave me a grateful half-grin.
Per my request, he dropped me off at Nettie’s place. I kissed him goodbye on the crown of his head and told him we’d text the following day. He thanked me again and I watched him drive off before going up to ring the doorbell, mentally preparing an apology for showing up at five-thirty in the morning. My savior human was surprisingly quick to answer, giving me an indulgent wave as soon as I stumbled over my first “I’m sorry”.
“It’s fine,” she muttered. “I hadn’t gone to bed yet.”
I gave her an incredulous look and she sighed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her normally soft, rounded cheeks were sunken, her eyes oddly dull. Judging from the angry red marks, she’d apparently been chewing on her lower lip with some force. It was only then that I took note of the sweater she was wearing. A faded, shaggy piece of fabric that clearly hadn’t been washed since Kit Sutton had given it to her on the cliff that day. I felt a sharp pang in my chest and pulled her into a hug as soon as I’d stepped inside with her.
She stifled a sob when she wrapped her arms around me in return. “It’s hit or miss with me when it comes to sleep lately,” she confessed in a brittle voice.
I swallowed. “I’m working on it. I’ll get her back for you, I have a lead. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”
“Not really. I just gotta distract myself ‘til the morning comes, I’ll be fine then.”
“Then I’ll stay up with you.”
It was thus decided. We sat down in the living room for a while, then went out into the garden to watch the sunrise. My savior human had taken her place in her mother’s chair while I whipped up some chocolate chip pancakes (one of her favorites) for her for breakfast. I carried them out to her on a little plate with a cup of tea, and for a moment, her expression cleared up for a beam of happiness to shine through. “We should do something productive,” she remarked, and I gave her a questioning tilt of the head. “I’ve been thinking,” she went on. “Isn’t it weird how all these years, you didn’t hop dimensions once, and now all of a sudden it keeps happening?”
“Don’t worry about that right now.”
“I always worry, baby girl. It’s my natural state of being.”
“It shouldn’t be,” I insisted. “It feels wrong. You have your own problems, I don’t want to add to that.”
“Seriously, that’s not what’s happening here. This is just how I keep my mind off… things.”
I rolled my lips together. Blue-haired things, probably. “You deserve so much better. You deserve this to be way, way easier,” I stated.
“That’s a nice thought. But it doesn’t change anything right now. You can control your body, can’t you? Your teeth and tentacles?”
“Yes. It happens automatically when I get scared sometimes, but for the most part, I’m actively doing it.”
“Then how about if we could somehow start getting you on top of your dimension jumping, too? It would be a tad risky and I’m not sure how to go about it exactly, but it would be far better if you could toggle it. You’d be able to stop yourself from hopping when you don’t want to, but maybe you could venture into these other spaces for exploration purposes, too.” The words spilled out of her like a babbling little waterfall as she plucked apart one of her pancakes and stuffed them into her mouth. “Because there has to be more to this. I just have that feeling. So I reckon we try and find a way to work with this. What do you think?”
“Sure. I guess I’d be… open to that.”
“Really? I-I don’t want to pressure you…”
“No, no, it sounds fine! I wanna try!”
“Okay!” She set aside her plate, rubbing her hands in blatant excitement. “So it happens when your flight instinct kicks in, correct? How about we get you in that headspace on purpose?”
“How would we do that?” I asked cautiously.
When I was sitting cross-legged on the ground among my savior human’s countless flowers with my eyes closed and her hand in mine, that question had pretty much answered itself. Nettie Peterson was leading me in a “guided meditation” consisting of several intrusive queries about my first ever jump—the most terrifying moment of my entire life.
“The thing, that floating maw, what did it look like?” she began, referring to the creature that had ended it all.
I furrowed my brows. “It didn’t look like anything,” I replied meekly. “Mostly, it was just… really big and dark.”
“Dark? What color dark?”
“Black, I guess. It swallowed the light.” A pulsating pain began to flare up behind my forehead. “It was nothing. It was like a giant ball of nothing.”
“You told me once that it made a noise,” my best friend went on, her fingers grasping mine a little tighter. “Do you remember that sound?”
I winced. “Yes.”
“Describe it.”
“It was more like a vibration that went through everything,” I mumbled. “The ground was shaking. And then we all screamed.”
“Did you see inside its mouth?”
“No. There was nothing inside of its mouth. There was nothing inside of it. Just emptiness.” I shifted my weight. Images were flashing in front of my inner eye, filling the darkness behind my closed lids. My breath had caught in my throat and it felt like ants were crawling beneath my skin. “And then all of us were suddenly… nothing, everything was gone and at that last moment, everyone was so terrified. They all knew it was over. All of them.”
At first, I thought Nettie Peterson’s hand was trembling. Then I realized it was my own, shaking hers through the contact. For a moment, my body felt feather-light, but not in a relaxing or comfortable way. It was as though I was afloat, out of control and weightless. I didn’t like it. “Can we stop?” I choked out.
“Of course,” my best friend replied, gently squeezing my fingers.
I let go of a deep breath, blinking my eyes open. Across from me, Nettie was giving me a soft but deeply apologetic smile. “Did I push you too far?”
“It’s not your fault. I think I simply wasn’t ready for this.”
“I understand. Let’s go inside and make some more of those—” She stopped mid-sentence. She’d been pointing her chin at the plate of pancakes resting on her chair, only to see that it had changed.
The food I had just served her half an hour ago had turned into a moldy, rotten mess. A couple flies were circling it, emitting a low, almost melodic buzz. My savior human and I traded wide-eyed glances, disbelief, fear and excitement mirrored in our eyes. We then got up to take in our surroundings. The flowers surrounding us weren’t the same anymore. They were either withered or deathly pale; formerly pink, yellow and red petals had become either light gray or iridescently white. Thick, soupy fog was hanging over everything, it was denser and heavier than any we’d ever had in town before. The mist seemed to have consumed all the noise and color in the world, leaving only cold, oppressive silence.
Nettie was the first to regain speech. “It worked! Oh my Lord, it actually worked.”
I clasped her arm and she immediately fell silent. Wordlessly, I pointed at the rolling fog on the other side of the garden fence. There was something moving within. An enormous, caterpillar-like shape soundlessly dragged itself through the air, its long body slowly moving along across the street. My savior human’s jaw had dropped, her mouth wide open as she followed my gaze. Neither of us moved a muscle as we waited for the creature to pass by. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to take note of us at all. I didn’t want to imagine what could happen if one were to draw its attention.
“This is… I don’t believe this,” Nettie breathed, running a hand over her mussed coils. “You did it. We’re not home anymore.”
“What do you propose to do now?”
“Keep our heads low and try to find out anything useful, I’d say.”
I nodded and she folded her hand into the crook of my arm. Together, we proceeded through the open door back into the house. Wammawink and Nettie’s old convertible were standing in their garage, a pool of motor fluid surrounding each vehicle. The paint was peeling from the car doors, matching the way the pictures and photographs around her house had faded.
The food in her kitchen had morphed into a self-contained ecosystem. Bugs were crawling up and down the walls and ghostly white mice scuttled across the floor with shocking brazenness. There was no trace of human life anywhere in sight. We stepped out the front door and into the street only for Nettie to grab me and fling me to the ground next to her. We flattened ourselves against the curb as another one of the gigantic caterpillar-figures snaked its way along just a couple feet above our heads. I craned my neck to give my best friend a sidelong glance out of terrified, saucer-sized eyes. I could see my reflection in hers as she pressed a finger to her lips. I gave her a tiny nod.
Finally, it was gone again and we helped each other to our feet. Nettie brushed down her sweater with great care before tilting her head at me as though asking if I was alright. I gave a reassuring, albeit wavering smile which she returned with a slight strain to her brow. We linked arms again and started walking down the street. The whole dimension seemed to be a mirror image of our hometown, only deader. Aside from the flies and vermin, there seemed to be very little life. All of the houses we were so familiar with looked decrepit, old and empty. Walls were crumbling down, roofs looked to be seconds away from caving in and most windows were shattered. It was impossible to see ahead through the mist, but we managed to hide from the flying worm-things everytime they came up.
We were starting to become a little frustrated seeing as our exploration yielded nothing of note. There was hardly anything to be seen safe from the depressing alternate version of our neighborhood. On top of that, the clammy chill that hung in the air along with the fog was making us increasingly uncomfortable. Finally, we decided we should try and get back home. We returned to Nettie’s garden where we crouched down once again, hand in hand. Before my savior human could begin her questioning though, the ground beneath us suddenly began to shudder, heaving as if moved by some kind of subterranean pulse.
Nettie Peterson and I snapped our eyes open at the exact same time, mouths agape in bewilderment. And then we saw it. It was in the sky, partially veiled by the thick fog yet impossible to overlook. It became darker and darker as it neared, its indescribably large form seemed to envelop the entirety of the heavens. It had been five years since I had last seen it, but I recognized it immediately. Not that it had any features I could have recognized. I remembered though, and in that moment, it all came flooding back to me. The breeders that threw themselves in front of their young, the cries that echoed across the plains together with the stones and soil sent rolling by the earthquake. I caught my best friend’s gaze, read the terror in it and knew that it was just as immense as my own. Her lips were parted in an ear-piercing scream that ended up being drowned out by the hovering roar of the Devourer Of Worlds.
I squeezed her hand so tightly I feared I’d snap her fingers. And suddenly, before I knew it, all was silent again. The air was warmer, filled with the fragrances of countless different flowers. The early morning sun was shining down on us, and it felt like it was heating up my very core. We were back. In the blink of an eye, Nettie had thrown her arms around me, pulling me close to her chest.
“Baby girl,” she whispered.
“That was it,” I rasped out. “That was it.”
“I know.” Withdrawing just an inch, she wiped a thumb over my eye, careful not to scrape me with her nail. It was only then that I realized I was crying. Tears were streaming down my cheeks, noiseless and hot, dripping from my chin and wetting my chest.
"You're not hurt, are you? Look, it's going to be alright. You just take it easy now. We'll go inside, have some tea or coffee or whatever and calm down, a-and then we can figure this all out. Come on. Get up. Easy, easy now." She hugged me even as she pulled me to my feet and into the house alongside her. "So tea. How about strawberry? Or Turkish apple? Or classic chamomile? Something for the nerves, at any rate."
"Wait," I stammered, interrupting her monologue. "What about you? Are you okay?"
"Oh, no. No, no, no, far from it. I'll sign us both up for therapy once I find the time, but for now, tea! Tea."
"Nettie, please don't strain yourse—"
"Listen here, I'm gonna make you some goddamn tea and we'll sit down with it and it's gonna be warm and nice and we'll forget all about this. I'm here. I can take care of you. You do not need to be scared." She pressed her face close up to mine, her voice sharp and a mite threatening.
"I'm sort of scared of you right now."
"Oh." She drew back. "Pardon. I'll put on the tea." A forced, crooked tune tumbled from her lips as she went ahead into the kitchen.
We've both simmered down a little since the incident. It's been two days now. I used most of that time to unwind and recover from what had to be the single most eventful night of my time here on earth. Keep in mind, this happened the morning after the fire. The calm is not going to last much longer, though. I don't mind that, I just need to brace myself.
Rhonda's been in touch.
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
20: olms and Jewels
21: long hair
22: recruitment
23: waitresses
24: dollhouse
25: burning plastic

So I built this list and I haven’t played it yet.
Any gross oversights (besides Sol Ring, I need to pick up another one..) or insights I should be aware of?
https://www.moxfield.com/decks/dIysQzpTsEGGZbNTs6sYbQ
For reference, I wanted the deck to be low-ish curving, focused on enchantments and token generation via said enchantments, it should be drawing a lot of cards and have 1 or 2 alternative payoffs in case my commander gets utterly hated out.
Also a bit of specific flier hate and at least 2 boardwipes.

Talk about stretching conversions as far as they can, eh? So the short of the long of it is that my table agreed break into homewbrew now that we're semi-comfortable switching over from 5e. The thing is, our frontline meat tank is being retired and I agreed to pick up that slack. Particularly while talking about how we'll send off the ambiguously stereotypically racist dwarf barbarian it dawned on me I had my own xenophobic (to be redeemed in gameplay) dwarf that cared a bit too much to become the epitome of martial excellence. In comes the problem: he's basically inseparable from his class --warblade from my 3.5 era of the hobby. I'm sure it can be guessed why I wasn't keen on later making him a battlemaster in 5e, as primarily the entire draw to warblade for me was the concept of one-and-done 'spells' whose whole slots then refreshed as an action, all paired with a stance. Ironically the closest thing to this in 5e was a coffeelock or a revision of paladin's spells. Which the latter would probably still be more similar to Champion rather than Warblade from the Tome of Battle. Thus I've been resigned to let Oriard be lost to a campaign that ended too early whilst 5e debuted too soon.
Now I know there are means to convert pf1 to pf2 and in turn 3.5 to pf1, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable or knowledgeable yet to be aware of trapfalls of doing that could cause. But I do know that ultimately 3.5 and pf2 are oddly similar enough to potentially have an easy translation. Especially as pf2 does already have all the things needed to replicate what the class does --even without looking beyond Monk. But first I must wonder if anyone knows what sort of build could just simply be close enough?
That said, my inital thought just looking at the book is that I could reference Fighter for things like proficiency increases, feats, etc. and literally just play Warblade but adjusting bonuses to be in line with the regular bounded accuracy. My second thought would be to write up an archtype, take my martial class of choice, and then just let the archtype handle stance/maneuver mechanics. My third thought is to, even less extensively, just pick a potential melee specialized class with focus points like ranger and forgo their usual choices with stances/maneuvers and a combat activity for a special refocus.
Or is there a Creation out there that already does what I'd need it to do for this sort of gameplay that someone might point me towards?

So,
I was in this record store and saw in the Discogs webpage that the owner of the shop had these like mini-vinyl next to the songs in each release page. Asked him what that was but did not wanted to tell me, now im curious.
Does someone know what is this? I imagine it is some kind of extension...
I draw how it was like for reference - https://imgur.com/a/TldAyxx