I posted a vid on the main Elden Ring sub and 2 comments where implying that my setup was just as dumb "op" (Halberd offdagger) as PSS lmao.
Ive seen other posts about the main sub of equally "questionable" stuff going on there.
Opinions?

A bunch of content creators put out vids at season start about this build and I’ve barely seen anyone use it. I’d highly recommend it on smaller maps. It’s pretty insane.
The synergy between the artifact mods, the weapon, and the exotic can decimate teams. In my last 15 or so games using this loadout in zone control, I have 6 games with over 50 K+A, and 1 with over 60.
Stat splits: 6/6/10/10/4/4

Question: If April flowers bring May showers, what do May flowers bring?
Answer: Puritans and misery.
Part 1 - May Flower Moon
I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure this is a ghost story. It all started in early May under the, "Flower Moon".
In the still of the night, I awoke from a deep sleep to witness a moonlight so spectacular it hurt my eyes.
Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
Willow weep for me
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
-Ann Ronell as sung by Billie Holiday
The birds were chirping loudly. I shuffled to the window. I looked up wide-eyed at the sky. There was the moon; big, round and golden like it didn't mind a big electricity bill. As I used the bathroom, I remember thinking that I didn't ever remember a full moon so bright it could light up my apartment.
I washed my hands then splashed warm water on my face. I cracked my neck. I dried my hands and face with a towel. I remember thinking if I didn't get back to sleep the day was going to suck.
Shuffling back into my bedroom I thought to look for my ski hat. I figured I could pull it over my eyes and escape the light under the blanket. Flower Moon was beautiful but so too is sleep. If I could just hide under the blanket perhaps it wasn't too late for sleep to creep up on me.
I have been renting the same sunny shoebox in old Brooklyn for more than 20 years. It's a corner apartment on the second floor of a 19th century walkup. Across the street, diagonally resides a community garden fronted by a very tall and expansive weeping willow tree that won't let me move away. I didn't know it's age until recently. But it's younger than me. Most things are these days.
I shuffled to the corner window to squeeze the blinds tight and that's when I felt grateful, grateful I had decided to use the bathroom first.
There, at the base of the hundred-foot-tall willow, behind the wrought iron fence, illuminated beneath the moon's glow, I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder. Standing beneath the moonlight, I saw, clear as day, a little boy in footed pajamas with a trap door. The little boy was holding a blue stuffed Grover Muppet in one hand and crying.
Trying to get a good look at the boy was like trying to look at something from behind a campfire. There was a shimmering distortion. What I could clearly see was that he was pointing down at the ground in front of his feet with the non-Grover hand. Suddenly, the little boy spun his head up and around looking directly at me. Eye contact occurred and then too, something I can't explain.
First, a truck transporting fuel broke loudly for the red light at the corner. Through the open windows I smelled what seemed like diesel. I grew light-headed. The room spun around. I remember thinking this feeling smelled both nauseating as well as timeless.
I reached down to try and pick up the floor and that's when it hit me in the face. A sharp pain across my cheek like I had been slapped in a 3 Stooges short. I felt icy fingers grab the hair I had not had in over 30 years and jerk my head back. I smelled more diesel. I grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from losing my balance.
Holding on to the desk, I noticed my mind's eye was playing the little boy's face like a movie. The camera panned in. His little boy face filled my consciousness like I was watching from the front row. He was about four or five years old with long dirty blonde hair. His face looked familiar from a dream.
Then, another slapping pain turned my last good cheek. Losing my balance, I fell ass first to the floor.
Out the window, from on my ass, I watched the traffic light turn green. I heard the truck lurch into gear, rev it's engine then drive away. As it rumbled off into the distance my equilibrium returned.
Muttering my life sucked I gently shook my head and felt for damage. Just my non-existent pride. I got myself vertical, yet once again; feeling a distinct twinge of anxiety.
I looked out the window but the little boy was gone. An FDNY ambulance took his place, it's siren jarring me back to reality. I closed the blinds and got under the blanket. I never did really get back to sleep that night. Or ever since.
Part II - Unhappily Ever Since
Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me... -Billie I keep seeing a little boy under the tree... - me ...
The first thing I want to say is that I keep waking up for decades at exactly 3:33 am.
It's the exact time my decrepit birth certificate claims I was introduced to this world. Can't say why, but ever since digital clocks became a thing, I'm up more often than not to witness 3:33 am transpire. Never remember it happening before digital.
One of my friends recently told me it was an angel number. I don't know anything about angels. Never met one. But I for sure have met some demons in my day. In fact. you might say I was born of demon mother, and I might not be offended. Back to my birth certificate. I was born and yes, still live in Brooklyn, New York. There were gaps but it's my home.
I moved to this particular apartment building a few months after 9/11. I had moved in with a woman at the tail end of doing a romantic nickel, but that fell apart like Madoff, Abramoff or Fuckoff, and she married another dude a year later. So, there in 2002, I and my faithful golden retriever, Spenser, found ourselves, for the very first time, on our own. And, we liked it.
Like I mentioned, Spenser and I lived diagonal to a community garden that fronts a big and beautiful weeping willow tree. I felt an immediate kinship as my favorite book as a child had been, "The Giving Tree" and that's what she reminded me of; only more beautiful.
There will be more about the tree. Anyway, the tree and I dwell in an old part of south Brooklyn called Park Slope, infamous for being the stomping grounds of a young Al Capone, and, believe it or not, young me.
That was a long time ago. Things have changed a lot since Al and I, were separately roaming the streets of Park Slope, looking for adventure and whatever came our way. I came up in the day when if you cried your mother would give you something to cry about. And, not going to lie, I cried a lot. I don't remember my dad that much.
I remember he was a hippie. I remember he had a big beard and moustache and long hair. I remember his denim jacket was always cold, smelling like weed and cigarettes. I remember he gave me, "The Giving Tree" and taught me how to read it. And then, I remember he was; gone. Just. Gone.
I also remember my mother. I remember her never talking much. I remember her just smelling like hair spray, cigarettes and instant coffee with sour milk. I never was able to drink milk, not even as a child, and to this very day just the sight of a milk carton turns my stomach to acid.
I lived alone with the old lady about half a mile from where I live now. Yeah, in over thirty years I made it a whole thirteen blocks. Like I said, my pride was non-existent these days unless I was sitting on it. Another, weird thing besides waking up at 3:33 am is I have a lot of memory lapses. It has been getting worse the last few years. Especially, since old Spenser had a seizure in my arms back on the 9/11 of '09. He was fifteen and my best friend. I'd always loved dogs. But after losing Spenser, I couldn't quite remember things right all the time.
Sometimes, it was little things. Like did I turn off the stove or lock the front door. Other times, it was deep things, like did the telephone repair man try to do something to me when I was five and left home alone. Like did I pull a kitchen knife on him before he scampered out like a thief in the night; scared he'd be caught by my screams for Batman? Did I remember my mother having strange guests over late at night? Did I remember being locked in my room? I just couldn't remember anymore.
I had taken to obsessively keeping lists. But you can't put ghost-busting on a list, can you? And that was my real problem. Ever since, the May Flower Moon the haunting just kept rinsing and repeating. Eat edibles, Nyquil, and Advil PM and still wake up at 3:33am. Smell diesel. Wave of nausea. Little boy in garden. Little boy crying. Little boy pointing at something. Little boy looking up at me. Little boy. Little boy. Little boy.
By last Friday, I was a mess.
My work is suffering. I am too embarrassed to tell my aunt or besties I see a little boy. They already think I am weird enough and last thing I need is a wellness check.
To remain scientific, I have continued my daytime visits to the garden whenever it is open. Everything seems so lovely in the day. I even brought the new woman I am seeing. She fell in love with the tree at first sight. The flowers are gorgeous. And the roses; so mesmerizing. Even the fish in the koi pond are happy.
But at night. Something isn't right.
...Weeping willow tree Weeping sympathy Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me Listen to me plead Hear me willow and weep for me...
My new friend at work I mentioned, who told me about angel numbers, asked me recently if something was bothering me. She told me when we met, she is in the midst of a spiritual awakening.
Part of it includes awakening every morning to read the Tarot cards and commune with who, or what, she calls, "spirit".
I cracked and told her about the little boy under the tree. She didn't bat an eye. She told me spirit wants something from me. I didn't know what to say to that so I just left it alone. I guess I'm afraid what if she's right. And what if I don't like what, "spirit" wants?
Last night was Saturday. I had a dream.
That night I dreamed about a collie I had when I was a very young boy right after my dad split. Her name was Pearl. I had found her on the street on my block and for some inexplicable reason had been allowed to keep her.
Not long after, one hot summer day in Prospect Park, when my mother was going to give me something to cry about, Pearl suddenly ran down the hill she was frolicking on, making a wide sweeping arc that screamed, "ride or die, full throttle, and damn the fucking torpedoes," it's trajectory directly between my mother's legs. Fur overcame flesh just in the nick before I was given something to cry about.
Instead, I laughed.
I laughed so fucking hysterically at the sight of her on the grass, on her ass; smug look gone with the wind; replaced by an expression seething red menace that would have been McCarthy's wet dream.
And, like the little boy at 3:33 am, Pearl's eyes met mine. She seemed to nod her collie head, as if she were acknowledging that, yes, she was the best dog and don't you forget it. I didn't cry much for a while after that till I came home from school and Pearl was gone. Just gone. To some farm I was told. Where she could be happier. So, I guess I did get something to cry about after all.
And then last night I had a dream.
Part III - It weeps for me?
I dreamed of Peter Pan and buried treasure. I dreamed of Stove Stop stuffing and commercials loud enough to drown out a breech birth. I dreamed of Spider-Man letting Uncle Ben's killer go free. I dreamed of being American. I dreamed of Watergate, the fall of the Berlin wall, 9/11 and watching people jump out windows to avoid burning to death out the window of my office.
I dreamed of Iraq and Afghanistan and George Floyd and Covid and never-ending cycles of boom and bust. I dreamed of a golden carrot on what started out as a stick but soon morphed into what I realized was a branch. A long flowing beautiful branch covered in red. A branch that hung low. It swayed along the ground, swayed above my head and there I was.
I was in the garden. Under the tree. I felt drops of warm dew caressing my face. I was about to reach up to caress the tree. My tree. I noticed I was wearing pajamas. Not the black satin jammies I had been wearing for decades but old footie pajamas. They were Star Trek pajamas. With three golden rings on the cuffs and a trap door.
A drop of dew fell in my eye. I wiped it away and looked at my hand. It was red. Red with blood. My Mickey Mouse watch involuntarily color-coordinated with the blood. It appeared to be just after 3:30 am.
Suddenly, a dog appeared. It was Pearl. Then another, it was Spenser. They jammed their snouts into my flannel covered crotch. I pet them both and noticed my tears mixing with the dewy blood drops turning them a soft pink under the moonlight.
"Good boy. Good girl." I said.
"Hi," a voice I recognized but couldn't place said.
I looked around. And there, was, the little boy. And, in his hand was Grover.
"Hi," I heard myself say.
"Who's the dog?" he said.
"That's Pearl. And this is Spenser." I answered.
"I know Pearl, silly. She's my dog," then, "Hi, Spenser."
Spenser left my crotch for the little boy's. They went together like peanut butter and sandwiches.
"Where are your parents?" I heard myself ask.
"Dad left. Mom told me to stay here until she comes back."
"When was that?" I asked.
The little boy shrugged then, "Been a while I guess," and he started to cry. Spenser got agitated and started to whine. I approached. I went to put my hand on the boy's shoulder and he jumped.
"Hey, it's okay." I took my hand back.
He looked up at me. Then he said, "You want to see something?
I said, "Yes."
The little boy fished around in his pajamas and pulled out something, it looked like a piece of rolled up construction paper secured with a red ribbon that matched the bloody dew drops.
He un-scrolled it then solemnly showed it to me.
It appeared to be a child's treasure map. That ended in the garden. Only it wasn't a garden. It said, "JUNK YARD" and there was a big X next to the corner of the rectangle the words were written in. I looked down at him.
"There's no junk yard here, son," I said.
The little boy looked away from Spenser and up at me. Pearl ran to his side. I felt six eyes on me.
"That's what you think," he said
A moment later there was the loud cracking of fireworks being detonated. I awoke in my bed. Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
I ran to the window to look out. But, unlike every other time for the past month, the boy was not in residence. He was gone. Just. Gone.
Part IV - The is The End
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
...
This was fucking ridiculous. I am sane. I am not mad. I'd been reading, "The Giving Tree," too much. Spending too much time alone working from home. Maybe I just needed to get away. Take a trip somewhere.
I realized getting back to sleep was going to be impossible. So, I went into the kitchen and made a pot of tea. No milk.
Back at my desk, my "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." glass mug of tea firmly in hand, I took a deep breath. There was no point in giving myself a heart attack. Maybe it was just anxiety. Maybe panic attacks. I had dated lots of neurotic women. That could be it. Maybe some Lexapro and I'd be good as new. I decided to check my email.
A woman I used to date from Queens and stayed friends with had sent me a link entitled, "Birth of a community garden." It was video to my garden. Before it was a garden. Over forty years ago. It was a decrepit vacant lot filled with dead cars and refuse and apparently had been a neighborhood drug bazaar. Like I said, things have changed a lot since Al and I were young as springtime.
By the time I moved back you would have never known what things had used to look like. Spray painted signs that read, "NO DRUGS SOLD HERE!" and the like. Just like the Batman, Dark Knight, the 80s were a time when Urban Renewal was striking back. And before you could say, "corruption at City Hall," there was fecund soil where once had stood God knows what.
It gave me hope that humanity wasn't so bad. Maybe I had just been going through a tough time. Maybe I should quit while I am ahead and get a good night's rest. So, I closed the blinds and went to bed.
Why I am never sleeping again
That night I dreamed I was part of the junk yard's saviors. Hauling out decades of festering trash and replacing it with good old Mother Earth. A whole community coming together to commune with nature. I felt myself smile.
All day we hoed the rows. The fecundity of the soil filling my nostrils. There was food and laughter and soon day turned to night. One by one all the gardeners left into the dusk. Soon I stood alone next to a young woman. She held a green army duffle bag. And two shovels.
"You look like a big, strong man. They're going to be planting a weeping willow tree here soon. But first, I wanted to leave the earth a special gift to grow up with the tree. This time I think we should give to the tree. Won't you help me?"
I felt a passing twinge of disgust. I rubbed my upper lip with the back of my hand and thought I smelled the faint smell of diesel. I heard myself say, "Hand me a shovel."
An hour later I had fulfilled the lady's request to deposit the duffel bag deep within the new garden's soil. She lit a cigarette I recognized. She blew some smoke in my face and it smelled like sour milk.
"Ever read a boy and his dog?" she asked.
I nodded.
"This is the opposite," she said. I smelled the diesel again and then remembered no more.
This morning I awoke feeling none too swell. I got my glasses on without dropping them for a change then sort of hobbled to the kitchen area to make some tea. I opened the blinds and there was my weeping willow tree. Swaying gently in the Sunday early June overcast chill.
Implacable. Inscrutable. True to it's nature. The day was gray as a widow's anniversary.
Well, there's always tea, I thought, ever the optimist. And then I dropped my, "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." mug on my foot, simultaneously battering and scalding it. I let out a yelp.
Then, mouth agape, I smelled the diesel waft in the window by the fire escape. The window, where, leaning against the fire escape's stairs I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder.
I spied two shovels and an empty duffle bag.
I wonder what spirit will have to say about that?
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
Willow Weep For Me?

Looking for a change of pace and wanted opinions on games out there that i might have missed on both the xbox store and the Eshop.
Games I have been into in the past: Into the breach, Hotline miami, Dark souls 1,2,3, sekiro, elden ring, Metal Gear Solid 5 , Phantom Dust , Prey(2017) , Elite: Dangerous , NBA 2k16, Absolver , Ninja Gaiden Sigma, Titanfall 2 , Just Cause 3 , Shadow of MordoWar, Ikaruga, Celeste , Hollow knight , Persona 5 ,
Games I hate/avoid at all costs: Terraria, Dying light , The outer worlds, Diablo 3, Weird West,
Feel free to drop some suggestions!!

I recently came across a post about an expat who participated in a night wedding. After reading the accounts I began to do research on my own. Not because I believe in any of that stuff. I'm a magician after all. Illusion is my bread and butter. And I can detect trickery better than most. Which in my line of work has its benefits. But old traditions are the best places to pick up new techniques. Old ways that are new to others that delight and even scare people. Because, if I can make them afraid. Make them look away. For even a second. I can pull off some astounding magic.
My gig at the cruise line was coming to an end as we neared the port of Shanghai. And for my last several shows, where I'd normally start to include my greatest tricks in order to leave a lasting impression. I developed a new act that I called "The Sneaky Bride", it involved a mannequin in a wedding dress, a beautiful train, veil, flowers on the ground - the whole nine yards some would say. The trick was that the bride would sneak bites as my assistants who are dressed as servers pass by with their trays.
I begin the trick by placing a mannequin center stage for all to see so that they know it's a dummy. I show them there are no holes, and the entire thing is solid. Then we dress it up and set the stage for a wedding. And with a bit of lighting, another assistant switches places with the mannequin and is being fed under the veil. We later changed it to more slight of hand techniques as the assistant complained she wasn't able to chew fast enough as the items of course have to get larger and larger for comedic effect as the guests were wowed by the disappearing act as the fake wedding progressed.
At the end we even invited the unmarried men up to the stage and then threw out a fake bouquet, and watched them clamber over each other in good fun to catch it. The act was an instant hit and had the crowd roaring every night. Which was why I decided to take a firsthand look at the original, and see if there were any other staging techniques I could learn from this old tradition.
With some help from Bing and its ChatGPT features I was able to get a relatively good idea of where it was practiced. So I booked the next flight out to begin my quest for a real night wedding.
Upon arrival at my hotel, I asked the concierge for information about the local practice.
"Yes. I know of this one. We practice it often for children who were taken too early."
"But they are all scams?"
The concierge smiled, "In most cases the pouches mean no harm, and they're simply for families who want to provide peace for themselves and to complete a lasting tradition. Sometimes the dowries are quite lucrative as well, and it is the families who are scammed by those who go and collect these ghost wives as concubines. We call it a blue procession for the trail of ghosts the husband leaves behind wherever he goes." He leans in, "But between you and me? They're mostly all scams."
I laughed, and I can't stress this next part enough, tip your concierge! Which I did. "Thank you, and also. Do you know where I could get a good start on finding more information about these ghost dowries? Or even find one of these pouches myself?"
"The temple down this first street to the left, about half a kilometer, would be a good place to start. But finding a pouch is a bit more difficult as they pop up sporadically. However, if traditions are to be believed it is the pouch who chooses the spouse."
I thanked him again and began to make my way through the early morning rush toward the temple. The streets were lined with open markets full of food from local farmers, which were common in the morning in this part of the world. They would disappear before the afternoon and then return again to sell wares at night when it was cooler. It made the city feel as if it were breathing as the locals rose and ebbed outside with day and night.
On my way, I searched the ground and around alleys for loose pouches. But I had no such luck by the time I arrived at the temple. Large red pillars that were thicker than any tree I've personally had the pleasure of meeting held up the high ceiling. Inside, the locals were already starting to disperse as the work hours were amongst us. Which left me nearly alone in this temple at about 8:00 in the morning.
A monk or priest was kneeling on a mat in front of a wooden shrine, throwing pieces of wood in the shape of dumplings on the floor. I waited patiently for him to finish. Taking in the sights and the delicate features of the temple. When he rose I approached him.
"You don't speak English by any chance do you?"
He smiled.
"What about the middle tongue?" I asked in Mandarin.
"Oh," he seemed surprised. "Yes. How may I be of assistance?"
"What were you doing just now?"
He held out his hand and showed me two red wooden pieces that were, with closer inspection, in the shape of moons. "Jiaobei," he told me. "We use these to seek divine guidance."
"How does it work?"
The monk shows me the two sides, one was smooth and flat, the other side rounded. "You ask a question and then throw it on the ground. One block flat and one block round, means yes. Both blocks showing round means no. Or depending on the question. Anger from the Gods. Or crying in sadness as it is commonly known. And finally, both blocks showing flat means laughter. Which could mean a number of things." He hands them to me, "You throw it three times to get a better answer."
"I'm guessing if it's the same all three times, the answer is definitive?"
The monk nodded.
"Will I..."
"Ah ah ah, in silence."
I didn't want my first question to be too convoluted or difficult. So I kept it simple and asked if I was a good magician. Then I threw the Jiaobei on the floor. It clattered and rolled on its rounded back, showing two flat sides.
The monk smiled.
"That usually happens the first time anyone tries Jiaobei. But in my experience, it generally means you asked a pure question."
"What happens if I didn't ask a pure question and it came back as angry?"
"The gods will remember it. They will remember you."
"No bad first impression then huh," I whispered under my breath. "Okay. Do I need to throw it two more times or can I ask a different question?"
"You may ask a different question or throw it twice more."
"What is my name?" I threw it on the floor. And to my surprise, as the ends are pointed and difficult to balance, one of the damn things stood tall and erect.
The monk bowed to the pieces. "Truly you have been picked by the gods to be answered. Lijiao or a standing answer like this is uncommonly rare. The gods generally choose to laugh at a nonsensical question. And often get angry if you throw it two more times. And rarely do they ever answer ones asked aloud."
I bent forward, skeptical, though a temple this was, at how the thing worked. In my head I could only think that the switchboard guy was quick on his feet. But looking around I couldn't find any cameras. Though in this day an age, they're made smaller than a fly. So it was difficult to tell. I picked up the pieces, feeling for any sense of magnetism, but there were none.
I asked one last question before I left that day. I asked their gods, would I find the real deal? And I threw it on the ground three times. All three times it came up yes. But for two months I scoured the city, and the country side. And I did chance upon several pouches. Some were obviously scams as I watched each bag carefully before approaching. Especially noticeable are the ones in the city which would be laying on the sidewalk, filled with bills for people passing by. But I observed that if a local went to go pick it up, two or three men from around the corner would come and threaten him to put it back. But if a foreigner picked it up, an old man or woman would come and start calling them son before leading them away.
There were of course others that were genuinely following tradition. I chanced upon several of them and was married several times. But each one was playful almost. And performed by their parents in the day. Leaving me with several small bags of pocket change, a good dinner, as I went on my way.
During one of these fake night weddings I even saw a child playfully munching on a corn cob in the corner under one of the tables as I fed the effigy they constructed of my fake bride. Which was when I think I decided to call it quits. Believing that I'd never find the real deal. Although I did learn a lot as tradition can be translated by me into performance. Which helped me ground 'The Sneaky Bride' act further. All in all, this was time well spent.
My visa was coming to an end and I had mostly been enjoying the sights, the city, and their way of life. When on one the last day, as I was leaving from a faraway eatery that the concierge had recommended, that I saw a red pouch made of silk with a thick yarn around its throat, stuffed full of money. I looked around and didn't see a single person there, nothing except flat farmland and water gullies for miles.
Odd, I thought to myself, as it looked truly abandoned.
For a second I played with the idea of picking it up. Wondering if somehow a relative of the deceased would pop up magically next to me and I could change the world of magic by studying their technique. But I didn't want to spend my few hours chasing ghosts. I wanted to enjoy my time. So I kept walking.
I got back to the city and spent the remainder of my day eating and drinking, meeting new friends at the bar, newfound lads who I invited a hundred times to visit me in Melbourne one day. Who all agreed that if fate ever brought us back together we would drink until the sun rose. So yeah, I was fairly drunk when I got back to my hotel room, and didn't believe what I saw when I opened the door. It was a red pouch sitting on my coffee table.
"Someone's trying to play a trick on me," I mused. "They must have heard me talking at the bar." I circled the table studying the pouch. Any magician worth his smoke, likes a good bag. So there was no doubt to me that this was the same one I saw earlier. Which made me start putting two and two together. "It must be the concierge. He's the one who sent me out that far." I laughed and picked up the bag, even though I knew the rules. I opened it and thumbed through the bills. "It's much more than what I tipped him. Much more." Curious, I wondered what he would have done if I didn't return this to him. It must have been quite a few months worth of wages. I threw the bag up in the air and caught it as if I were juggling before I tossed it on my nightstand. "I'm going to let him sweat for a little bit and pretend I didn't find it tomorrow as I check out," I mused as I went to go take a shower.
I opened the door and felt the words stick to the roof of my mouth as the bag appeared on the counter next to the sink. I shot a glance back to the nightstand and indeed the bag I had just thrown on there was missing.
"This is a good fucking trick. That, or I'm drunker than I thought." I started questioning did I somehow fall asleep beforehand? Or walked into the bathroom and put it there as I mused my little scheme of making the concierge nervous at the lost pouch? Had I somehow in my drunken state done something without realizing it? No. That couldn't be it. I touched my chest to check my heart rate and put my fingers on my face. A bit flushed, but heart rate adequate. I was fine for the most part. Just drunk.
I looked at the pouch on the counter, and peered gingerly into the bathroom as if I've never stepped foot in one, before deciding to grab the bag and close the door. "Okay," I said loudly. "Whoever's doing this. Come on out." Of course no one appeared, not that I expected them to because the credo I lived by is that a good magician never reveals his trick.
"Okay, let's see how good you guys really are," I mused. Going over to my closet and placed the pouch on the shelf. Closing the door. Then I went back to the bathroom and opened the door. It was empty. I checked the nightstand drawer, mpty. I looked all over, and it was still mty. I breathed a sigh and went over to the closet door, "I guess you're just a bag after all." Except when I looked inside. MT. I couldn't find the bag behind any other nook or cranny. I know, I checked them all. And they were all .
I stumbled backwards and looked around, glancing at the ceiling corners in case someone had crawled up there. And even looked under the bed. But there was no one else here. I felt my chest tighten as I tried to make sense of what was happening. "Its got to be the walls I reasoned." And so for the next half hour I scoured the entire room with my hands, pushing, pressing, pulling anywhere and everywhere I could. Using all my years of experience to figure out what was going on. But there was nothing.
I couldn't stay in that room another minute so I rushed outside and nearly stepped on it! The bag! It was right at the foot of my doorstep.
My mind tried to wrap around how that was possible, "It's got to be a dupe. They've got more than one bag. I've been had, that has to be it. And the furniture inside, they have secret compartments. God, they really put a lot of effort into this," I laughed. "I have to know how this trick is done." So I opened the pouch and pulled out the note inside.
The notes generally contained their name, their current would-be age (she was 20 this year, older than most), what time they were born (8:07), a picture if they had one (she did), and how old they when they died (5). If the deceased were a bit older, perhaps a tidbit from their family is included about their personality. But most importantly, it always contained their address.
I looked at my watch, it was late and my flight was in the morning but perhaps I could still make it. So I gathered the rest of my things, my luggage, the mannequin for my act, and other bag of tricks in case I needed to go to the airport right after. "Come on," I yelled out loud to my pranksters. "Let's go see what other tricks you have up your sleeve."
I went down to the lobby and had the front desk call me a cab. I looked around for the concierge but he was nowhere to be found. So I left a note for him. And then left.
The cab drove until the city faded away. We were practically on the other side of the island by the time its tires skipped to a stop. I got out and knocked on the giant half circle doors of the address. I noticed that we were deep in the countryside. There were hardly any lights dotting the night.
I knocked several more times before I heard shuffling behind the door. And then it opened. An old man stood in front of me in his drawers.
"What do you want," he asked angrily. "Do you know what time it is?"
"I'm sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour. But," I pulled out the pouch. And his eyes widened up.
"Meju-eh. You're back." He looked at me up and down. "What are you supposed to be," he asked but then shook his head. "No, no. Come in. Come in, please."
"I don't have much time," I told him. "I have to leave in the morning."
"Sit, sit." He ushered me to a chair in the courtyard.
I placed the bag on the table next to it, "I have a flight in the morning, so if we're going to do this. We have to do it now."
Instead of fighting me, he nodded, "Yes. I agree. I don't have much time either. And Meju-eh is older than most ghost brides. The bull demon might not let her through his gets if she gets any older. And then she'll be a husbandless spinster for eternity." He ushered around, "We don't have many living relatives either. So it shouldn't be too troublesome to hurry this along." He called into the house and a young woman came out, "This is my granddaughter. Ah-ahn. Meju-eh's older sister. They were close as children."
Ah-ahn was quite beautiful. I almost couldn't take my eyes off of her.
"Go and start preparations and rouse anyone you can get a hold of. We must have the wedding tonight. Even if it isn't grand as I would like."
"Will we make it in time," I asked. "It's a lot of work for one person. Perhaps I could help?"
The old man nodded, "That's a good idea. But forgive me, I must retire for now. Or else have no energy for the wedding." He turned to his granddaughter, "Fetch me when the preparations are ready." As he left us alone in the courtyard.
"What can I do," I asked her.
"We're going to need flowers for decoration."
I pulled a rose out from behind her ear, "I happen to have a case of these on hand at all times." I put the flower in her hair.
She smiled, "Thank you."
"What else?"
"Um, we already have tables for family gatherings. There should be enough food in the freezers that we can just heat up. I need to call my aunt to come help. And wake up some of the kids. Also...we kind of need a statue of some sort, as a stand-in for my sister."
"Statue? I think I have just the thing."
Hours went by and it was the dead of the night, but watching all the people bustling around the courtyard, the kids in excited whispers, you'd never guess that all of us should have been sleeping. Soon the tables were set, the food was hot, even the decorations were strung, and I had procured my mannequin from my luggage and a few of the menfolk were putting it together inside the main living room.
Several times I found myself laughing and having a good time with the others, although chasing that hen made me look quite ridiculous, and several times I bumped into Ah-ahn and we would talk and exchange a few words. In the beginning she talked mostly about her sister. How she was troublesome as a child. Always hiding things. I told her about the pouch appearing and disappearing in my hotel. And we both had a good laugh. Eventually we talked about ourselves. I learned she wanted to get away from here, "To see the world," she told me. The more we talked the closer we got. I could feel it. Soon we were bumping into each other just to feel our bodies touch. But before anything else transpired the wedding preparations were complete.
The old man was retrieved from his bedroom and everyone gathered outside in the courtyard, looking into the main living room. There was a wooden shrine in the back of the room and the mannequin had been traditionally dressed. From an old box the grandfather retrieved several personal items that belonged to Meju. And I was then asked to enter the living room.
The grandfather said a few words, and then gave us his blessing. Ah-ahn handed me a bowl of sticky rice ball soup. I had been through this process before and knew what to do. I ate one of the pink balls and then went to go feed my new bride.
Now I've traveled with this mannequin for some time. Seen it at a dozen of my own shows. Slept with it in the room. Knew that it was in fact a dummy for all intents and purposes. However, as I started moving my spoon toward it. I swear I saw it's chest rise as if it were breathing.
I couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol ebbing away from earlier or a trick of the light. But even its shoulders looked softer than usual. My hand started shaking as it got closer to her mouth. It was like watching an out of body experience as the spoon inched under her veil. And then the CRUNCH. It scared the fucking shit out of me. I looked around hoping to see some kid in the corner playing a dumb joke. But there were none. And I didn't believe what I was seeing even as the veil started moving as her jaws chewed the sticky material back and forth.
"No way," I shook. "There's just no way." My hand was so close to the veil. "Oh God. Please. I have to know how this is done." I ripped off the veil.
Meju looked very much like her picture. But older. And then older. And older. As if her face was starting to rot away as it contorted. People behind me screamed. The lightbulbs we had strung popped. Kids were running around and the grandfather fell to the floor clutching his heart.
I backed away, the spoon clattering to the ground as I watched the mannequin crick and crack as its arms and legs bent in a tangled mess until it was walking on all fours!
The thing grabbed the bent down to the grandfather and started chewing!
I turned around and saw the other guests were piling out of the courtyard. The tables were upturned and only the dim crescent light of the moon bore down on us. Everyone was screaming trying to get out. I ran and bumped into Ah-ahn. She whirled terrified and then realized it was me. She yelled, "You never! Look at the bride before it's time!"
"I'm so sorry! I didn't know. I thought it was a trick!"
She grabbed her face, her nails leaving streaks behind as she clawed at her skin, "Now she's going to kill every living blood relative. And then you." Ah-ahn laughed manically. "She's going to torture you!"
The people kept pushing around us until we got separated. Her final words still ringing in my ears as I took to the dirt road outside and started running. I ran for nearly a mile before I spotted a cab sitting outside of someone's house. I banged on their door and then begged them to take me to the airport. Throwing at them all the money from the dowry.
When I arrived at the airport I hurried through the TSA. Relieved at the lights and normal looking people. I boarded my flight. Tapping my foot nervously the entire time, staring out the small squarish window as we prepared to take off. The sun was starting to rise as the engine roared. I took one last look at the island as we flew away. Still trying to catch my breath at what I had just caused.
My mind was reeling as I heard two knocking noises, they sounded oddly familiar, and for a second I thought that Meju had finished with her family and had somehow come boarded. But then I realized the noise was coming from my carry-on. I reached inside and pulled out two red shaped crescents that the Monk at the temple had given to me. And I realized that if I ever needed any form of divine guidance this was it.
So right there in the tiny aisle. I asked the gods if I had escaped and threw the Jiaobei.
No.
I asked the gods if I would be safe.
No.
I asked them would Meju kill me.
Both flat.
Both flat.
Both flat.
s

Step 1: if you have gold buy crafted gear (the best being dark moon card greatness and the belt/boots for your armor type). Level your professions (google what’s best for your spec)
Step 2: normal high level dungeons to replace your worst gear
Step 3: normal heroics, these may be tough to find so I recommend starting your own group for it (be patient)
At this point your gear score should be around 3.5k+. If your weapon is shit do some battlegrounds and get the deadly weapon from the vendor in the dalaran sewers for honor.
Step 4: Now get into Naxx and soak up all the loot you can. Although it’s crazy easy, make sure you watch guides so your raid doesn’t get upset with you. Eye of eternity and obsidian sanctum are also great options.
Now you should have at least a 4k gs
Step 5: Run heroic+ to replace your worst pieces. Make sure you do the daily everyday for conquest badges.
Once you have 4.5k gs or near look for ulduar normal runs. Again do extensive research on boss fights.
Finally, you can start looking for ulduar hard modes.
I see a lot of players confused on what to do so I wanted to do my best to help. Please feel free to critique my advice or add additional help in the comments.
Thank you, Cooldad/Coolerdad pagle alliance

Valor Quest is an RPG for the web browser that I'm making - an open-ended, persistent game you can play at your leisure. If you've played games like Ultima Online, Torn, or MUDs, you'll feel right at home. Many of the item aspects are reminders of early Diablo games. Gameplay resembles a hybrid between pure text games and popular graphical action RPGs.
Play here: https://valorquest.net
Signup is fast and free. More info:
Slavery is a staple in human history and it's no different here. Choose a faction: slaver or abolitionist. Either way, do you think you can earn enough Valor to change the world? It may just be possible...
Exploration: Navigate with a smooth graphical interface and convenient map viewport. Discover new areas, negotiate dangers, and progress in your quest for Valor.
Character development: Create and customize your player, choosing which skills and stats to invest in as you level up. Each of your stats controls different aspects of your gameplay, and specializing will make sense as you play.
Combat: Configure your setup and do battle with monsters and players alike. Battles feature instant autocalc results with battle reports detailing every move.
Items: Find, buy, equip or trade weapons and armor, which come with a wide variety of properties and effects. Manage your inventory and customize your equipment your way for any occasion.
Puzzle-solving: Some mild puzzle elements are present with some tricky dungeons and map areas. More intensively, playing Valor Quest is a process where you will grow more powerful as you figure out how all the game systems work.
Social interaction: Chat with NPC's to gather useful information or gossip, send messages to other players, and coordinate attacks and other activities. Engage in PvP battles or form alliances. Choosing to be a slaver might seem like the path of least resistance, but at what cost? Engage in the social and physical mechanics of buying, owning, and managing your slaves, or vow to destroy all those who do! The choice is yours. For Valor!

Contact JahCoin#5396 - Or join https://discord.gg/mw2lobbies if interested!
What can this be used for? - Boosting your mw2 stats - Levelling up any guns - Maxing out all your weapons easily - No grind needed for your camos easily obtian gold, platinum, Polyatomic and Orion with just a few games
How does it work? - All bots are run off PS5s, and are completely safe to play against. - They'll stand more or less still, moving periodically to avoid AFK timers. - They'll fire randomly, but never attack you. - It's completely safe for you. All the kills and stats you get in game will count as if it were a real match.
NORMAL / SHIPMENT BOT LOBBY PRICES: - 1 Bot Lobby - $7 - 3 Bot Lobbies - $20 - 5 Bot Lobbies - $29 - 10 Bot Lobbies - $57 - 20 Bot Lobbies - $105 - 50 Bot Lobbies - $240
LONGSHOT BOT LOBBY PRICES: - 1 Longshot Bot Lobby - $11 - 3 Longshot Bot Lobbies - $30 - 5 Longshot Bot Lobbies - $47 - 10 Longshot Bot Lobbies - $87 - 20 Longshot Bot Lobbies - $165
NUKE SERVICE - Get the calling card, skin, and emblem! - $85 - ( will need account details, can be done in ~a day )
PAYMENT METHODS - PAYPAL THROUGH FRIENDS AND FAMILY AND MOST MAJOR CRYPTOCURRENCIES ARE ACCEPTED
RULES / MUST READ - 1.If there is another player running around Do Not Kill! They are not a bot, bots will all have the same operator for easy identification! - 2.Never use any Player Killing kill-streaks! Replace your streaks for a UAV and Advanced UAV only! This is going to help speed up your kills and tracking of the players. Do not use counter UAVs, SAEs, Chopper Gunners, VTOLs, Ect. You may effect the lobby of the another person. - 3.Equip a grenade! Equip a Tactical Insert! Equip Scavenger Perk for ammunition. Equip Eagle Eye! When you have 20-25 kills (shortly after an advanced UAV is recommended so you don't accidently NUKE), place a Tactical Insert near the spawn to avoid running around and run 15 feet to kill yourself, and pull your standard grenade and hold in hand until it blows. - 4.Never use nuke! Nuke will end the game, and nuke is a high risk of being banned. You may be penalized one game if you call in a nuke.
Notice of how to play: Domination: Spawn and capture your nearest flag. Avoid B. Run to their spawn and murder! Capturing B will cause the game to end faster. This is at your own cost!
Discord: JahCoin#5396 - Discord with Vouches: https://discord.gg/mw2lobbies

Alright, here we go! So the new summer event is coming and the lovely marketing people at Crytek are keeping me titillated with teasers. The new Wild Target boss is coming and from the looks of it rain is coming as well! Now, there was an IMMENSE amount of success with the wild fire maps last event and I think this time its going to be flooded maps. We know the event is called Tide of Shadows so I think they are going to have special maps that not only have rain but flood parts of the map that make them uncrossable (or at least really hard to cross?) just like how the wild fire made certain parts of the map uncrossable. I Dont know how this would work, but I envision some sort or rising water level from all that heavy rain, whatever that may look like. I could be totally off base here but I think it would be super cool to see happen. I LOVED the wild fires last event and if they see more sucess with the wild card contracts this could open so many doors for variety on that front too!
TLDR: This summer event is going to have flooded maps kinda like the wild fire maps last event

Just recently got into souls games. Elden ring is my second game and I wanted to get to ng+7. Is there any fun builds that I can play to switch up the gameplay from play through to play through. I’m not capping my levels so I can do hybrid builds if needed.

Investing in a solid wood bed is a wise choice that adds both beauty and durability to your bedroom. Solid wood furniture requires proper care to maintain its natural charm and ensure its longevity. Here are some essential tips on how to take good care of solid wood bed, along with general wooden furniture care guidelines.

1. Dusting and Cleaning: Regular dusting is crucial to prevent the accumulation of dirt and debris on your solid wood bed. Use a soft, lint-free cloth or a microfiber duster to gently remove dust from the surface. Avoid using abrasive materials or harsh chemical cleaners that may damage the wood. For occasional deep cleaning, dampen a cloth with mild soapy water, wring it out well and wipe the bed frame. Remember to dry the wood immediately to prevent moisture absorption.
   
2. Avoid Direct Sunlight: Direct sunlight can cause fading and discolouration of the wood over time. Position your solid wood bed away from windows or use curtains or blinds to block the harsh rays. If sunlight exposure is unavoidable, consider using window films or UV-protective coatings to minimize damage.
   
3. Protect from Spills and Heat: Place coasters or mats on your solid wood bed to protect it from spills, water rings and hot objects. Wipe up any spills immediately to prevent moisture from seeping into the wood and causing damage. Avoid placing hot items directly on the surface to prevent burns or discolouration.
   
4. Polish and Condition: Periodically polish your solid wood bed to maintain its natural lustre. Choose a high-quality furniture polish specifically designed for wooden furniture. Apply the polish using a soft cloth in the direction of the wood grain and buff gently for a shiny finish. Additionally, consider using wood conditioning products to nourish and protect the wood from drying out.
   

When it comes to caring for your solid wood bed, following these guidelines will help preserve its beauty and extend its lifespan. Brands like Doctor Dreams offer a range of high-quality solid wood furniture, including acacia solid wood bed, known for their craftsmanship and durability.
In conclusion, taking good care of your solid wood bed is essential to maintain its natural beauty and ensure its longevity. Regular dusting, avoiding direct sunlight and spills, maintaining optimal humidity levels, polishing and conditioning and handling with care are all crucial aspects of wooden furniture care. By following these tips, you can enjoy the timeless elegance and comfort of your solid wood bed for years to come.

Quick question everyone, what is the earliest level the WT4 Torment capstone dungeon will appear on your map?
Just want a quick heads up thank you.

I've been trying to figure out why I've felt so burnt out with this game lately, and I think a huge contributing factor to this is the new maps. These maps are inescapable and exhausting. I will be leaving any server when they show up from now on.
Driel is a slugfest over the middle point, and it always plays exactly the same. The British get there first. The Germans poke and prod at getting supplies over the river. You die a lot from bush wookies. Bolt-action rifles and MG are the only viable gun choices, and the British bolt actions are crap. It's the more visually appealing of the two, and I like being a bush wookie sometimes, but it's been a couple weeks and I need more variety. Oh, and if you are stuck with an SMG because you haven't unlocked a higher level in the class, you're shit out of luck. You don't get to play this round. Enjoy!
El Alamein is a fight to secure the high points, regardless of the objectives. The airfield placement favors the Germans, but I've seen it go both ways. If you aren't sniping with a bolt action, you're doing it wrong, because everyone else is. If you are stuck with a SMG, like our new squad leader friends, guess what? You don't get to play! Have fun! Again, like on Driel, all the British guns suck, and none of the bolt actions on either side kill in one shot past 200m, which is ridiculous. I regularly see people running around on this map that I just don't bother shooting, even though I know I can hit them. It's pointless. I'm punished for having good accuracy by giving away my position and getting literally nothing out if it. This is a problem on all the maps, but on El Alamein it is infuriating.
TL;DR I'm personally boycotting the new maps in an attempt to enjoy the game again. Does anyone else feel this way? Why am I so burnt out on HLL after this update?

Tara:
-Increased main attack damage from 440 to 480 per card
-Increased SCR from 12 to 11 cards
Despite how toxic of a brawler Tara can be with her super attack in ladder, I will magnanimously accept that Tara did need buffs. Her damage felt insufficient in most 3v3 matches, although I see her played very frequently in ladder Gem Grab. I really do hope that these changes don't make her too unbearable in ladder gameplay, but more viable in competitive play.
​
Mortis:
-Increased main attack damage from 900 to 940
This has been one of the most controversial balance changes since they were released to the public eye. I too, am very skeptical of even the slightest buffs to Mortis. He ruins Brawl Ball matches throughout all of ladder and mid-level power league, and is often extremely toxic in general matches. However, his win rates were abysmal and I wouldn't mind a small buff as long as they continue to proceed with caution in balancing these certain brawlers.
​
Willow:
-Hexed enemies no longer charge super
-Increased super range from 7.67 to 8.33 tiles
-Willow now shields herself while an enemy is hexed
I do think Willow is naturally annoying as a thrower, but I also think that her super was fundamentally useless everywhere except for Volley/Brawl Ball game modes. She's been forgotten and mostly neglected since her release a couple of months ago, and I am looking forward to seeing some more Willow abundance with these buffs.
​
8-Bit:
-Increased health from 4800 to 5000
I do think this is a good buff, but I don't think it's necessary either. In my opinion, 8-Bit was already one of the most solid/balanced brawlers in the entire game. If anything, they should have reworked his 2nd gadget because that ability is completely otiose outside of Heist. However, I don't seem to mind this change too much because it's doesn't make much of a difference for a brawler who was as tanky as Pam.
​
Janet:
-Decreased Drop The Bass health form 1500 to 1000
-Decreased Drop The Bass lifespan from 20s to 10s
-Decreased main attack damage from 1000 to 940
-Decreased main attack SCR from 6 to 7
These changes are nothing short of overkill. I predict that Janet will easily by a bottom 10 if not 5 brawler in the game. And I say that because of the damage nerf in particular. Janet already dealt a relatively low amount of damage with her main attack and took some time to focus to layer on top of that. I think they missed a core detail making her so strong: her super duration. For me, Janet has been an extremely annoying brawler to face against in a 3v3 setting. Her super lasts 6s and she remains airborne for that long. She is also intangible to other brawlers and cannot be damaged, while she drops bombs on opposing players. I think they should have nerfed her super duration from 6 to 5s or maybe even 4s, because that super is very unfun and annoying to deal with in most matches. On the contrary however, I do agree with the other changes and am hopeful that Janet will finally subside once and for all.
​
Max:
-Decreased health from 3200 to 3000
-Decreased main attack damage from 340 to 320 per zap
-Decreased main attack SCR from 12 to 14 zaps
Boy am I glad to see some Max nerfs. She along with a select handful of brawlers (including the aforementioned Mortis), have ruined my 3v3 experiences far too often. She has an extremely annoying gadget which hasn't been balanced since its release, and her super ensures that her team will claim victory in most cases. She offers such immense pressure along with all of these tied together, and again, allows for easy, effortless annihilation.
​
Meg:
-Decreased Mech Form health from 4000 to 3700
-Decreased Jolting Volts healing from 2250 to 1500
I agree with these changes, because Meg was running rampant everywhere, especially in Solo Showdown. She felt nearly immortal starting in that mech after her recent rework, and definitely needed to be toned down significantly. I do think that this will make her a much healthier option throughout most ranks and levels, and won't be as much of a nuisance as she once was among most.
​
Shelly:
-Decreased Shell Shock duration from 4.5s to 2s
-Decreased health from 3800 to 3700
I completely agree with Shell Shock being nerfed, although it was way too harsh in my opinion. Also, why did they slap her with what seems like an unnecessary HP nerf? That was the least of her issues of being top 5 in the meta, unless somehow she was too problematic for noobs, but I am satisfied to see these nerfs taking place as soon as they are.
​
Surge:
-Decreased Power Shield duration from 5s to 2s
-Decreased Power Shield shield from 80% to 50%
One of the most toxic brawlers in the entire game, FINALLY receives more nerfs to his gadget. That ability alone made him a shredding feral monster against nearly any brawler, with zero skill necessary. I don't know why they addressed him again any sooner, but I'm thankful that they decided to do it at all.
​
Penny:
-Decreased Salty Barrel health from 2000 to 1500
-Decreased health from 3400 to 3200
It's about time that Salty Barrel received some much needed nerfs in favor of those assassins and close-rangers. However, I will send one message to Supercell: PLEASE stop nerfing her base HP and revert that change before you roll it out. Her health is already low enough, and is now again starting to struggle with approaching enemies due to the reduced range compared to before her rework last year. You will reverse the progress you've made with the rework. If anything, her cannon needs to be addressed. It is way too toxic and unbearable in so many maps, and it is able to cover way too large of a proximity for being able to shoot over walls. Other than this, the Salty Barrel nerf was a very welcome change.
​
Ash:
-Decreased health from 5400 to 5200
Much like 8-Bit's health change, I don't mind it too much, but I think it was also unnecessary because Ash already seemed to be solid and not too overbearing from what I've seen. I don't play or face against Ash much, so I'm not very obligated to opine here, but that's where I stand.
​
Bea:
-Decreased main attack SCR from 3 to 4
Very delighted to see more nerfs to that brain-dead menace. I've always hated facing against Bea, and would much rather be prompted to throw my phone across my room in fits of rage than tolerate her spamming mechanisms. I applaud the fact that Supercell is addressing more of the toxic brawlers among most players, yet more forgettable brawlers among high-level players. I do agree with this change, and it should suppress her dominance in the current metagame.

First of all, sorry if my post look confused, i'm just writing what i'm thinking. . So, why quest almost all end up badly ?
I mean, i really don't see any reason for that.
Okay, the point of Souls games is to make the player feels like they are surpassing themselves and earn the victory by their efforts.
But what's the point of trying hard, if there is so much people's you cannot save ?
It's really strange, that, in Elden ring, you must become Elden lord, but, it's basically by killing everything and just watching everyone dies.
Lord of ashes, lord of nothing, that's kinda what i feel like at the end.
It's really starting to look like this is lazy quest design, you listen to the npc and do everything he want like a dog, or you just leave them and will never their quest.
Basically if you want to do every npc quest in Elden ring, the roleplay is absolutely dead.
Perfect exemple is Seluvis quest, he ask you to give the puppet potion to Nepheli, here you have choices.
But after that, he ask you to help him turn Ranni, and you can just ignore him if you don't want to betray Ranni.
But What about warning her ? It's not even that hard for dev to put that in the game, just a choice, a dialogue, and it will make Seluvis Death happen Earlier in the story.
There are just sooo much people's we could have saved just by talking with them, or fighting for them.
Almost everyone dies. But it's not Lordran, it's not that much of and ending world, it is in some ways, but not in the same way as in Dark souls games.
So What's the point?
And the "Its a Miyasaki game, everyone dies" is not a reason, in art, things are what they are for a reason, so, what's the reason ?