In Progress [LP CYOA] Tower

[Absinthe]

I'm not even sure what alternate phrasings there could be for "water mixed with salt." "Saline rinse," I guess. Probably still open to that kind of joke, though.

 

[hello friend]

Excuse me treave but why are we ugly? I thought the low CHA reflected a weird dude with no social skills. Also did DEX just drop with an extra point?

 

[Baltika9]

Excuse me treave but why are we ugly? I thought the low CHA reflected a weird dude with no social skills. Also did DEX just drop with an extra point?

We're ugly because we have burn scars from the fire that killed the rest of our family:

You remember the day you were first handed a bow. It was perhaps a week after your master had told you to live in this little hut from now on. The burns scarring half of your body still hurt, the raw, pink skin oozing clear liquid. Yet, he had thrown the small wooden bow at you, and told you to hunt. If you did not hunt, then you would not eat.

At the time, you were confused but grateful, thinking that he had made the tool for you by hand. He had even picked you out of the ashes of your former home, after all, and dug a grave for your family. Expecting boundless charity just because you are a child would be too much to ask. It was not until later that you learnt the bow was just something he picked up in the trash.

And our DEX degraded by one more point (red indicates temporary stat loss), probably because we wandered off into the woods with an untreated leg injury.

Should've picked the Ambassador's son for all the linguistic genius and jumping right into intrigue and politics with that genius.

Yeah, that would have been cool. I would have loved growing into the role of the setting's Metternich, but it was not to be. The hunter isn't that bad, though. We get to play as John Wick.

 

[Kipeci]

I think treave said that he didn’t want to penalize dexterity too badly before because it was also responsible for how well we fire bows and our arms should be unaffected, but now if our unaffected perception is taking that load the dexterity can drop more to reflect the leg having been badly damaged.

 

[hello friend]

We'er ugly because we have burn scars from the fire that killed the rest of our family

Oh, right.

My family knew a guy who'd been a burn victim, his whole face looked completely fucked up. Super cheerful dude. We were at his wedding. Amazing, really, that a person with a face like that could find love (with a fat woman - but also a very cheerful and good hearted one). He's like the final argument against incel sexual theory.

 

[ItsChon]

He's like the final argument against incel sexual theory.

Eh. A lot of incels could honestly find a super ugly women and get with them, but they're just not willing. Regardless, I digress.

 

[Baltika9]

incel sexual theory.

The what?

 

[Esquilax]

I would like to look at what new skill dependencies will be like.

I was a bit concerned about making Constitution our highest stat because while it allows us to survive Kunning Kodexian Plans it is also... the least interesting, skill-wise. It allows us to drink a lot, and that's it.

...maybe things will improve once we get access to Astra and magic-like abilities.

I have nothing to base this on, but I'm hoping that being physically resilient will allow our character to find ways to manipulate/channel Astras that a more frail character might not be able to. Just as likely, we aren't smart enough to use certain Astras "safely" which means using them in a way that might be ill-advised or dangerous to people that aren't as physically hardy.

More than fine. They give me a better handle on the character. 'Wisdom' is too general, 'Perception' and 'willpower' are much more descriptive. With END 8, WIL 7 and our gloomy personality, we have the baseline qualities of an action movie hero. Now we need to get our physical stats up to par (after we heal our leg).

We have in our character someone who's defined by toughness, both physical and mental. I like it.

 

[Esquilax]

Should've picked the Ambassador's son for all the linguistic genius and jumping right into intrigue and politics with that genius.

Yeah, but the Ambassador's Son would have been too frail to survive the encounter with Mr.Mutant Wolf-Bear, so he wouldn't have even been in a position to hear this woman's last words, let alone save her baby.

 

[Baltika9]

More than fine. They give me a better handle on the character. 'Wisdom' is too general, 'Perception' and 'willpower' are much more descriptive. With END 8, WIL 7 and our gloomy personality, we have the baseline qualities of an action movie hero. Now we need to get our physical stats up to par (after we heal our leg).

We have in our character someone who's defined by toughness, both physical and mental. I like it.

Look at how we handled the Hentai-Nazgul, after we got wounded:

You tighten your grip around the dagger and spit out the blood in your mouth. You know what you need to do. And then, you launch yourself at the beast. It whirls around, claws slicing through the air to meet you. You manage a near miraculous dodge, ducking under the swipe, and cling onto the black limb. Letting out a hoarse cry, you stab at the limb furiously with the dagger. Again and again you desperately drive the blade into its flesh. Glowing red blood spurts forth, and the beast makes a screeching squeal.

It smashes you into the ground, almost knocking you out from the impact, but you refuse to let go, continuing to stab away as if you were possessed. The beast slams you against the dirt, against the trees, over and over, but you do not stop. You stab, and then you hack, and when its paw is half severed, hanging limply from the main limb by black tendrils stained with red, the beast raises you high into the air, its maw gaping wide. You swing your body around to try and avoid its jaws. But to no avail. The beast’s fangs close around your lower left leg, biting through flesh and bone. It tries to pull you away from its limb – feeling the strain on your leg, you have no choice but to let go.

You hang limply by your leg, blood trickling over your face, gasping for breath. Your helplessness causes the beast to pause for a while. Its many eyes are all focused on you, and you can feel a dark malice in them. It is considering how best to kill you. For some reason, you feel that is what it is thinking.

Letting out another scream, you bend your body upwards, and sink your dagger into one of its eyes. The beast squeals again, letting your leg fall free… and then, it explodes. It becomes a formless shadow, a mass of writhing black tendrils and countless eyes, shrieking cacophonously as if there were dozens if not hundreds of it, screaming all at the same time in jangled, discordant screeches, so loudly that it almost drives you insane. Pain, confusion, and anger not of your own fill your mind. The tendrils swarm towards you mindlessly, and you hack away at it with your dagger, screaming back at the beast with equal ferocity. Tendrils wrap around your dagger arm and you bite into them, tearing away with your teeth. You drive your blade into an eye and sink your fingers into another, as if plucking them all out will end this nightmare.

You have no idea how long you fought, but the fight ends as suddenly as it had begun. The darkness flattens, becoming a shadow on the ground, and it recedes away into the forest. You stand alone amidst the subsiding flames, soaked in blood. The end of the battle brings with it relief, and you cannot help but to succumb to it. Strength leaves your body and you crumple to the ground.

We're totally action movie hero material.

 

[hello friend]

incel sexual theory.

The what?

You know, the whole "Your nose/ear ratio or w/e is 3 degrees off, IT'S FUCKING OVER mentality". I'm not denying that some people have it rough. An innsmouth face person does have the deck heavily stacked against them, but if a guy with a hideous burn face can get happily married to a very nice human being, you know, maybe ppl can afford to be less blackpilled.

Eh. A lot of incels could honestly find a super ugly women and get with them, but they're just not willing. Regardless, I digress.

She wasn't even ugly, just fat and unattractive.

 

[Storyfag]

Ohai guise, what's going on in this thr...



D-d-d-d-devour soul!!!!

 

[Tigranes]

We set something on fire by update 3. I think we're doing swell.

 

[Baltika9]

Ohai guise, what's going on in this thr...



D-d-d-d-devour soul!!!!

And we saved and adopted a child whom I strongly suspect of being the last of a royal dynasty. We're also on track to become a John Wick/Liam Neeson. All in all, we're doing OK. Welcome back, bro.

 

[baud]

Et tu, Kipeci?

And even without tap water people were familiar with what kinds of waters are potable and the concept of boiling water before drinking it.

A lot of achohol was brewed/distilled at the time to make water (more) potable.

 

[Baltika9]

baud, I can only brofist you once, unfortunately, but that is brilliant.

 

[treave]

Yeah, but the Ambassador's Son would have been too frail to survive the encounter with Mr.Mutant Wolf-Bear, so he wouldn't have even been in a position to hear this woman's last words, let alone save her baby.

The prologue encounters are tailored to your background & stat spread because this is a popamole game.

At any rate, stats and skills tweaked to reflect the new system, and prepping the next chapter which should be out in a few hours.

 

[Esquilax]

Yeah, but the Ambassador's Son would have been too frail to survive the encounter with Mr.Mutant Wolf-Bear, so he wouldn't have even been in a position to hear this woman's last words, let alone save her baby.

The prologue encounters are tailored to your background & stat spread because this is a popamole game.

At any rate, stats and skills tweaked to reflect the new system, and prepping the next chapter which should be out in a few hours.

Excellent, because popamole games are tailored to the Codex. How else would I know if Witcher 3 was shit if I hadn't sunk 100 hours into it? Had to be sure.

 

[treave]

Boy in the Village (I)

The dirt path winds across the gently rolling hills. You had spent the night on the road, and the moon above you had now become the sun. The glowing orb in the sky rose and lowered, brightening and dimming according to the time of the day but never truly going away. But your master had called it a sun when it was at its brightest, and a moon when it was dim. And so that is what you call it too.

The baby woke up crying once in the middle of the night, only settling down after you had dipped your finger in honey and allowed it to suck away. It was a strange, ticklish feeling, although not entirely unpleasant. Right now, it was sleeping soundly once more.

You look at the path before you. There is a signpost directing you to the next village. Scotsfield, 5 kilometres, it read. At your slight elevation, you can spot where it is. It looks to be much bigger than the one near your forest, which was nothing more than a collection of ramshackle huts. There were more buildings and houses at the village center, and numerous farms dot the surrounding land.

And far beyond the village, so far in the distance that it is tinged with blue, a long, white strand stands tall, disappearing into a hole in the sky.

A sense of adventure and awe fills your heart. The past day has shown you things you have never seen before during your life in the forest, and this sight whispers to you that you can see many more, should you wish it.

***

Carried away by the mood, you allow yourself to dream just for a while about the far future, of the better things to come.

A. You dream of exploring the world. Your curiosity and desire for adventure has been sparked by your recent escapade, and you would like to know more about, well, everything.

B. You dream of settling down with the baby and raising it as well as you can. After years of scrounging up all you can in the forest just to stay alive, you would appreciate it if you could retire to a more stable and quiet lifestyle.

***

As you near the village, you spot an old man sitting in a chair near the fence. There is a bottle in his hand, and you become instantly wary. Has he been drinking? You clutch the baby tighter to your chest and your feet slow down to a halt. The old man looks up and spots you, his whiskered cheeks slightly ruddy.

“Hm? Hey, laddie, haven’t seen ye around before,” he calls out, scratching his bald head. “Did’ye have something to do in our fair village of Scotsfield?”

“Oh, I…” Your response is slow and halting. Speech is a rare event as far as you are concerned. “I am looking for… help.” Still, you needed help with the baby. You might be older, but you are still well aware you are a child too, and you can’t take care of it alone.

“Help? What kinda help do ye want? Where are yer parents…” The old man’s voice trails off as he catches sight of the scars across half of your face. You flinch and draw your hood lower.

“Och! Dinnae mean tae gawk, laddie! Sorry!” Flustered and looking ashamed, he gets up, hobbling over to you. It looks like he has one lame leg, just like you do. “And ye’ve got a wee one right there, do ye!”

The old man raises his hand and you gird yourself instinctively, but instead of a slap or a punch, he pats your shoulder firmly, as if in encouragement. “A’right, I won’t be asking ye too many questions. Let’s get ye and the wee one to the church, Father McClellan should know what tae do with the both of ye. Come on now.”

Before you can muster up any complaint, the old man herds you along towards the center of the village. You cannot help but marvel at how many people and buildings there are – it looks a lot more crowded than you could have realized from afar. Along the way, you can feel the curious eyes of others upon you, but the old man just waves them off cheerfully, telling them to mind their own business in a light-hearted manner.

“Here we are, boyo.” He stops in front of a large, white building. A big cross is placed right on the top of the building. “Don’ye worry, Father McClellan is a good man. He’ll do right by ye, whatever ye need.”

The aged, wooden doors make a heavy creak as the old man pushes them open. He limps into the dark building, and seeing little other choice left to you, you follow nervously.

“Oh, if it isn’t old man Addair? What’s the matter? Sunday is tomorrow, and I don’t remember you being the sort to hang around the church more than necessary.” A tall man with dark brown hair cut short is standing at the altar, a broom in his hands. A small pair of round spectacles is perched on his nose, and he is clothed in black.

“Father, I’ve got a lad here that needs ye help. Found him standing around near tae outskirts of the village, my sweet spot, ye ken? I thought ye’d be the best person to help ‘im out, what with ye being a man of God and all,” replies Addair.

Father McClellan’s eyebrows rise quizzically. “A young visitor? Well then, let me take a look.”

Addair gives you an encouraging push. “Go on, laddie. He won’t bite.”

You frown, and take a cautious step forward, head bowed low. McClellan looks at you and the child in your arms. “Where are your parents, my child?” he asks, gently.

“They’re dead.” Your reply is curt and to the point.

“Oh dear.” He sets the broom aside and walks to you, kneeling down. “I see. It must have been hard. What is your name?”

You… do not know. Your parents had a name for you, but you do not remember it now, after years of being called nothing kinder than boy. You shake your head.

“I see.” The priest responds calmly. “And what about the baby? Is there a name?”

“Rain,” you blurt out. That had been one of the last things that the woman had said. Although you do not know what the word meant in that foreign language, you felt that it could have been the baby’s name. It was a guess without evidence, of course.

“So the baby is Rain, while you have no name, for now?” McClellan smiles, and pats your head. He glances at your clothes, which are stained with blood from yesterday’s battle, but he does not bring up the matter. “Far be it from me to question a boy in help whom God has guided to His house. I’ll take it from here, Mr. Addair. Thank you for bringing them here.”

“Och, no thanks needed, Father! I know ye’ll do right by them. Just let me ken if there’s anything I can dae.” The old man waves to you, wishing you well.

Bowing to him, you stutter out your thanks awkwardly. “T-Thank you, Mister.”

As Addair limps off, McClellan calls out for someone. “Sophie, are you there? Could you come in for a second, please?”

“Yes, father. Is there anything you need?” A pretty girl all in white enters the church’s hall from . Her hair is tied up in a bun, and she seems a bit older than you are. The girl looks at you and freezes for a second, clearly taken aback by the burns on your face. “Oh!” she cries out.

“Don’t be rude, Sophie,” warns McClellan. “We should have some bread and milk leftover at home from this morning’s breakfast. Be a dear and fetch those for this boy and the baby, would you?”

Backing away, her expression uneasy as she glances at you again, Sophie nods and says “Yes, father, right away,” before leaving.

After she is gone, McClellan chuckles. “Forgive my daughter. She’s still young, still immature. Unlike you, I would say.”

“…What do you mean?”

“You must have lived a really rough life,” he says sadly. “And yet I can see that you are a very calm and very resolute boy. Truly, God gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless. Now, while we wait for Sophie to return, perhaps you can take a seat, and we can talk about how Scotsfield can offer you some respite?”

You give him a silent nod and sit down on one of the pews. McClellan sits down some distance away, giving you enough space to be comfortable with.

“If you would like to stay in Scotsfield, I am sure I can find a suitable family. There are many farms in the area who would love a hardworking and honest boy to help with the work. Alternatively, well…” He adjusts his spectacles, and continues carefully. “If you would prefer it, I have also been looking for someone to help me out with keeping both the church and the school building tidy.”

“What’s a school?” you ask. For that matter, you don’t know what this place called a church is either.

“Oh, have you never been to one? Well, a school is a place for learning,” replies the priest calmly without looking particularly shocked. “I think it would do you good to attend it too, although you might find that none of the other children in this village are particularly studious or obedient, haha. I and Sister Angela teach classes every Sunday afternoon.”

***

You decide to:

A. Stay with a farming family recommended by Father McClellan, and help out with their work in return.

B. Accept Father McClellan’s hospitality and stay with him while helping out with church and school.

C. Find a place to live on your own instead, without relying on other people.

D. Leave the village after replenishing your supplies. You do not intend to stay here for long.

***

McClellan claps his hands, saying, “Well, that would be a decision left to you. On the other hand, there is also Rain to think about. You are no more than a child yourself, though you must be well aware of that. It would be quite the task for you to take care of Rain while doing your own growing up. I can find a suitable family who would be delighted to raise the baby too… it would be better for both you and the little one, I am sure.”

***

A. You decide to give the baby up for adoption. Deep within, you are loathe to do so, but the priest is right: you are too young to take care of a baby on your own. This will be better for the baby and for you in the long run.

B. You do not want to be parted from Rain. You might be too young to take care of a baby, but you can always get help with that without giving Rain up. Besides, you have a niggling suspicion that you would be considered too young to hunt on your own either, if it comes to that. Age doesn’t determine everything.

 

[Baltika9]

Hmmm, my first instinct is ABB. Flop to BBB to be a good older brother.

I do not particularly appreciate our character's narrow-mindedness, so 1A is the way I'd like to go. Besides, as I mentioned earlier, I suspect that this child is very important in the political life of the elves and we won't find them by sitting around this village the entire time.

This doesn't mean that we shouldn't take advantage of the education this man is offering us (and the chance for us to heal our bum leg), though I think getting in with a foster family is such a good idea. First off, we have no ideas if elves are welcomed by society in general (treave, did the priest see our ward's pointed ears?), so we may have to jet the fuck outta here at a moment's notice. Working at the church and at school seems like our best bet: we'll get an education, we'll learn to socialize and we'll have some light responsibilities that, I expect, will leave some time for side-activities. Yeah-yeah, let's get the priest jokes out of the way right now.

Parting with Rain? Yeah, right.

 

[Kz3r0]

BBB

 

[Nevill]

The only thing I know is that I am not parting with Rain.

The other two are harder.

Adventure is well and good, but what kind of adventure can we have when we have a kid to look out for? If we choose to share our fate and stay close, is it right to impose the hardships of nomadic life on a child? Exploration is dangerous, and, well, not settling down to raise her (?) up means that she'll still be a kid when we venture out.

Oh I am sure she won't mind, but she'd be getting the sense for what is right and wrong from us, so that's not saying much. And however you look at it, it is not the most responsible thing to do.

As for the choice of our new home, I'd like to speculate on what these options mean for our future.

I would try my luck with 2C if I weren't afraid of our Master coming to claim his prize. A family could shield us from him. But anything more than that (like hellhounds and whoever is after the elven family), and these people won't be able to protect us either, so maybe it shouldn't be much of a consideration.

Barring that, what are the advantages of living on a farm against living in a church? Is education necessary for our boy, or does it lead to "standartizing" our cast of protagonists? We have never tried playing an illiterate one whose interests lie elsewhere.

...I want education for Rain, though...

*
*
B. You do not want to be parted from Rain. You might be too young to take care of a baby, but you can always get help with that without giving Rain up. Besides, you have a niggling suspicion that you would be considered too young to hunt on your own either, if it comes to that. Age doesn’t determine everything.

For now, will have to listen for what other esteemed Codexian folk have to say.

 

[Life of the Party]

ABB

 

[asxetos]

ABB

 

[Baltika9]

Oh I am sure she won't mind, but she'd be getting the sense for what is right and wrong from us, so that's not saying much. And however you look at it, it is not the most responsible thing to do.

I think we're alright.

As for the choice of our new home, I'd like to speculate on what these options mean for our future.

My main concerns with all of these choices (yes, even 1) is, in order of precedence, is Rain and then our personal development.

A foster family seems nice, but farm life is demanding and there's the issue that we're not exactly a normal child. Also, the foster family may be racist against elves, which won't bode well for Rain.

I like 2B because it will allow us to get an education (we're ten, and let's assume Rain is on its 1st year) before Rain is ready to attend school, which means that we can work while Rain studies (should all go well). Plus, I expect that it will leave us with enough free time to practice with our bow, pursue studies on the side and engage in fisticuffs with the local boys who will doubtlessly want to test the new kid.

I see no reason to go at it alone with 1C.

I think that 1D is a bad idea. We're injured and know nothing about the outside world. Let's take the charity this man offers us. If he wants us to play the flute, then we jet.