A somewhat aspiring writer but primarily a reader of all things fantasy. Welcome to my humble blog, of sorts. Here, I regale my readers with tales and feats of marvellous splendour. Or bore them. Mostly the latter. As I strive to put thoughts to paper.
As the wheels of the QantasLink A220 kissed the tarmac of Sydney's Kingsford Smith Airport, I could not help but feel that the week I spent in Tasmania was but a fleeting dream. Albeit, one marred by the fact we were in a holding pattern for upwards of thirty minutes due to unfavourable conditions. Yet even though it was primarily a transit day and my step count did not quite crack the ten thousand standard, there was still much for my family to see and do.
Our day started early as we packed and checked out from the hotel we were staying at. Though it was a little touch and go, with so many personalities to manage - especially my elderly Popo - we were on the road just before 10 AM. And though there was no one manning the reception desk, we were still able to return the key in the drop-off box.
Given that our flight back to Sydney was late in the afternoon, we were able to take our time on the drive to Launceston. Though there had been concerns the day before about spotfires due to the intense heat, by the time we set out, they were all being sufficiently managed. I saw neither flame nor flicker along our route. Nor were we diverted from the main highway.
Though there had been chance aplenty to have visited the townof Richmond earlier on the trip, my stepfather had been adamant we would only visit upon our return. A somewhat irksome request given the free time we had the day before. Nonetheless, there was no point in being needlessly contrary. I was to get my wish, regardless.
A historic Georgian town in the Coal River region, Richmond sits to the north east of Hobart. It is home to a scenic bridge and Australia's oldest existing colonial gaol (pronounced like jail. It should be noted this is also slowly becoming the default spelling even here in Australia for the sake of simplicity).
More importantly, Richmond was alos home to Old Hobart Town. A specialist museum containing a historical model of what Hobart used to look like in centuries past while also featuring several fun figurines. These included a woman beating a snake, a boy falling from a tree, a hunter skinning a kangaroo and the ever elusive Tasmanian Tiger. But what I enjoyed most about the historical model was how easily it mapped onto the modern Hobart I had explored the day before as it was constructed from actual plans that were available.
From lashings and public hangings to merchants going about their day, each of the little people on display had their own story to tell. I definitely felt like I had stepped back through history and seeing the Hobart from yesteryear relative to the modern city I had come to know over the last few days.
Just down the street from Old Hobart Town was nestled Richmond Gaol. By the mid 1820s, Richmond was the third largest population centre in Tasmania and it soon became necessary for a local goal to be established to deal with those who committed offences while employed on public works or on surrounding rural properties.
When it opened its doors, W J Speed, an ex schoolmaster, became Richmond's first gaoler. For approximately thirty years, it remained in service, with a steady stream of convicts entering its doors for a variety of offences. And while it was no Port Arthur, Richmond Gaol had it own vibrant history.
In 1853, transportation of convicts ceased and the gaol became a watch-house. In 1861, it came under control of the local municipal police. Use of the gaol continued to decline and it finally closed its doors in 1928. In 1971, it was registered as an historic site and has been privately leased since 1987.
On my self-guided tour of the gaol, I had a look at the many different cells and the individual stories of the inmates found within. I also enjoyed looking at artefacts from the time like the draught board and learning what the daily rations for each prisoner was.
Upon seeing my fill, I headed back out to rejoin the rest of my family, who had decided to forgo the trip into the gaol proper and had taken up residence at a local cafe. Once I'd caught up with them, we headed over to the Richmond Bridge - the oldest stone span bridge in the whole of Australia.
While all of these locations were all in close proximity, my family did shift our hire car further up the street to minimise how far we would need to push my Popo down the road in her wheelchair. Contributing, to my great dismay, to the lower number of steps taken throughout the day.
After we had seen our fill of Richmond, we headed straight for Launceston. Though I would have preferred for us to stop by Grindelwald (yes, there is a town in Tasmania called Grindelwald. I was surprised too), it was a little out of the way for the family. As such, we did not get to enjoy the Swiss-style village and its charming shopping arcade.
Instead, we waited for an inordinately long time at the airport in Launceston before we were finally allowed to check-in and go through security. By then, I'd made a decent dent through all the CaitVi fanfiction I was reading, as well as Hamnet, which I had on my ebook.
Though Tasmania is naught but an hour and a half from Sydney via plane, the six day family trip felt like a much needed adventure. After my mother and stepfather decided to reside in China for the last two years, it was good to venture out together with all four members of our household. While we did not quite escape the usual arguments and frustrations that comes from being all too familiar, it was still a nice change of pace.
And for someone (me) who hasn't been to Tasmania, it was good to see the various locales of our southernmost state. Admittedly, it is still quintessentially Australian but there's something about the cities that make them strikingly different to the likes of Sydney, Melbourne or even Brisbane. Everything, at least to me, feels more condensed. Nature sits right next to the bustling hubbub of the central business district.
Could it do with some more impressive shopping centres?
Perhaps.
But maybe the very fact Hobart and Launceston lack an impressively large Westfields is actually one of their many charms. And its their small local businesses that has won over the hearts and minds of those who live there and the tourists who come to visit.
At the height of the backlash against supposed 'woke' video games, Dragon Age: Veilguard was supposedly one of the biggest casualties. This was true to an extent - it never quite reached the huge sales goal many thought it might and also scored low among critics - it still sold 1.5 million copies in the first two months after launch. Yet while I can agree the fourth entry in the Dragon Age franchise has many problems - from the repetitive writing at the start and during Bellara's personal questline to the art direction not quite fitting the grimdark fantasy setting set by its predecessors (though, admittedly, there were a few areas they still managed to be quite unsettling like D'Meta's Crossing) - there is still a kernel of greatness within. And who could deny neve or Emmrich their due?
Dragon Age: Veilguard released in October 2024, an entire decade (almost) after the third entry in the series, Dragon Age: Inquisition. In the intervening years, Veilguard went through multiple revisions, including a brief transition to a multiplayer live-service title, before pivoting back to single player. And many point to this turbulent development cycle for why Veilguard released to a rather lukewarm reception. The fact it even released is considered a miracle in and of itself.
You are Rook - a player insert Varric Thethras (fan favourite character who first appeared in Dragon Age 2) takes on as he hunts down his former friend, Solas, in northern Thedas. In my case, I was a qunari warrior from the Lords of Fortune. Why, I hear you ask? Well, it was mostly because I wanted to try out a different race and class from my usual default choices (hello elf/human rogue). As soon as you finish customising your avatar, you are thrust into a dangerous encounter with Solas as he attempts a ritual to bring down the Veil.
Things, understandably, go wrong. And while you are able to interrupt Solas's ritual, two of the ancient elven gods escape (Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain). Meanwhile Solas, himself, is trapped inside a prison in the Fade. Varric, too, is severely wounded during the encounter and is bedbound.
So, begins your quest to save the world of Thedas and put a stop the ambitions of two megalomaniacal gods. Who said western role-playing games couldn't throw in their own deicide plots in? That said, every time I heard Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, all I could envision in my head were Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Narratively, Veilguard plays the storybeats in a fairly straightforward manner. Rook knows from the start what the stakes are and goes about recruiting allies to their cause. Meanwhile, they respond to any whispers of the gods' involvement in a desperate bid to a put a stop to them. Is it a little trope-heavy? I suppose. But I very much liked how it expanded on the lore from previous games (and as someone who hasn't engaged in the comics or the novels, the revelations the gods were originally spirits who used lyrium to create physical forms was an interesting tidbit of world-building). I also liked how we, the players, got to interact with the other nations of Thedas though I missed having to deal with courtly intrigue or political powerplays.
Most times, it felt like Rook was easily able to find allies to fight against the gods. The only faction that resisted were the Wardens, but even then, it was mostly their blowhard of a First Warden (one I took great pleasure in taking a peg down or two).
I suppose my main gripe is the fact that the fight against the gods is not just one big war but simply a series of battles and interactions that leave our heroes scrambling. But I suppose that's how one tells a great story, right? To make sure anything that can go wrong, does go wrong. Otherwise, where is the suspense? The heroes can only be heroes when they put their all in. Or, in the case of Veilguard, simply do, 'Whatever it takes.'
The main narrative aside, I felt like most of my enjoyment came from the side stories and personal storylines. These helped provide additional context (while also gaining favour and later empowering your forces) to the wider world. My favourite side quests involved Emmrich and getting a better understanding of the Mourn Watch (necromancers who tended to the dead). Theirs was a contrasting perspective I had not seen in the Dragon Age games and it was refreshing to see a different side to spirits and the Fade in general. I also enjoyed my time exploring Arlathan Forest, having coffee with Lucanis in fictional Venice (Treviso) and exploring a small part of the Tevinter capital (Minrathous).
When it came to companion questlines, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with each and every single one of the stories. The one that stayed with the most, surprisingly, came from Taash. Although many people online were quite dismissive of the character because of 'woke' politics pushing the 'LGBTQIA agenda down their throats,' I felt more keenly that Taash's story was more of migration and being able to live comfortably in two different worlds. As a second generation migrant, I knew that growing up, I often wished I was white instead of being of Chinese ancestry. It is only as I've grown older that I've come to appreciate my Chinese roots and the history that make up who I am and inform the views of my family. And this was the reason why I encouraged Taash to embrace their Qunari heritage rather than throw it away in favour of Rivaini culture (though why Taash couldn't find a middleground between the two felt a little disingenious considering their non-binary arc).
Other storylines I enjoyed included Harding trying to understand her new stone powers, Emmrich's fear of death (one I also share) and his lifelong desire to become a lich, and Neve's attempts to protect her beloved Dock Town through any means necessary. Special shout out to Davrin and the ending of his questline that allowed me to pick a new home for the griffons.
By game's end, I had ensured the survival of all my team (barring one because they HAD to die. Davrin and Assan, you will be missed. But I also couldn't let the budding romance between Harding and Taash die). And while I would have preferred tricking Solas with the fake dagger, I chose, instead, to talk him down. And with the help of the Inquistor (which happened to somewhat follow my choices because I was an elf who had wanted to initially romance Solas before settling for Blackwall of all people), the Dread Wolf accepted his charge of tying the Veil to his life force with the love of his life.
When it comes to gameplay, I had a few initial gripes. The most jarring was how far left the player character was. Though this is supposedly present in other 'cinematic' games, never had I felt so disorientated as I did than in Veilguard. I also struggled, at first, with what I felt were relatively janky controls. While some of it may have come from the fact I was playing a role I was not used to (warrior as opposed to a rogue), I do feel like the control scheme could have been finetuned a little more.
That said, by the time I adjusted to my role as Rook, the leader who led in the front by utterly decimating by foes with a good overwhelming stomp and letting my shield richochet among long-range foes, I was enjoying myself quite a lot. That said, I do feel like Veilguard was a little limiting in the amount of abilities one could pin. Worse, it felt like there were few options to experiment with what abilities and skills allies could have.
By game's end, it simply made more sense to me to always keep a rogue and a mage in the party. Why? Well, to pull off as many detonations as possible and deal massive damage to both bosses and ordinary foes. Not to mention deal other debilitating status conditions on them to my advantage.
Dragon Age: Veilguard is a game that tries something a little new to revitalise a series that had been languishing for years. While it did not pull it off, and the changes may have left quite a few fans scratching their heads, it still proved a solid entry. With some spit and shine, I'm sure BioWare can still prove their mettle by adding to the extensive lore they have already established. After all, there are whole seas beyond the continent of Thedas. But, like many, I do feel the new art direction was a misstep - much in the same way the overly saturated colours of the newer games stripped Diablo a little of its identity. If, hopefully, they tweak a little of the writing (and no, I don't need Bellara to tell me in multiple conversations how Cyrian is her brother but we might still have to put him down for reasons), show off a little more blood so we can enjoy the carnage, and lean more into body horror, then I'd be keen to continue my path through this dark fantasy world and learn all its secrets. For, it should be said, there are still many left to be uncovered.
What happened to the other Evanuris? Will the blight ever be calmed and restored to the Titans? And what exactly do the Executors have planned for Thedas?
There are still so many rich story seeds in Dragon Age that I DO hope Veilguard is not the end. Yet, as with all things, it may simply be the fact that this ship has sailed and there won't be a chance of going back (until maybe another ten or twenty years down the track where the original will be remade).
On a side note, I was definitely picking up on possible autistic vibes for Taash too. Even if they weren't, they're certainly autistic-coded. Not that it's a bad thing. I mean, who doesn't want to obsess over dragons? I certainly do.
As the sun crested the horizon, filtering through the slants of the blinds, I awoke to another day in the capital city of Tasmania. Without a list of locations to visit, our family decided for a lazier slower-paced adventure on our second last day. Our first stop? Mount Wellington.
According to Wikipedia and sources on the internet, Mount Wellington sits at an elevation of 1,271 metres. Occasionally, it will be covered by snow, even in summer, though when we ascended, this was not so. Albeit, it was still a good ten degrees lower than Hobart itself. More importantly, the windchill factor meant the outside temperature felt like it was plummeting fast. And I, in my infinite wisdom, had not brought along a jacket or windbreaker.
Originally named 'Table Mountain' it was renamed in 1832 in honour of the Duke of Wellington. Charles Darwin, father of evolution, also embarked on a climb in February 1836, and had remarked on the flora and fauna he found.
The road up to the summit was long and winding. Along the way, we stopped midway to look out over the sprawling harbour city before continuing back up. It was not until we reached the summit that I realised how underdressed I was. Still, I braved the winds, clambering up on rocks to snap as many of the natural scenery around me. While other tourists had chosen to balance on rather precarious rocks, I chose the more prudent and solid patches of ground. After all, it makes little sense to me to exchange my life for a passingly 'decent' photograph.
Beyond a strange tripod like structure that most everyone was flocking to, the one structure that caught my eye was the BAI Transmission tower. Made from concrete, it towers at about 130 metres. The construction of this tower was part of a movement towards statewide broadcasting.
With the wind chipping away at any resources of heat left in my body, I finally took shelter in the Pinnacle Observation Shelter. Though the day was slated to hit a high of 31 degrees Celsius, the mountain was far colder. Understandable given its height and the fact the summit of the mountain has a tundra climate. Before too long, I was joined by my family as we looked out over Hobart and took several shots of the city from our higher elevation.
Once we had explored every inch of the summit (bar the walking and fire trails), we headed back down. My hope, at the time, had been to visit the MONA. Even though it would not be open, I thought there might be an opportunity to see the outside facade so I could take a photo of the outside. Unfortunately, luck was not on my side. We were stopped by a security guard redirecting any who ignored the 'Closed' sign atop the carpark entrance.
Lunch was at a small cafe near the MONA called 52 South. Reliant on the reviews on Google, I'd only skimmed the menu. It was not until we were wheeling Popo in on the wheelchair that I understood that while it was a cafe, it was also a Sri Lankan restaurant. This, however, did not serve as a deterrent (something most East Asians like my Popo might not have appreciated) and we ate our fill.
As the morning stretched into the afternoon, my stepfather and Popo were keen to return to the hotel. I, however, still wanted to explore the city proper. Thankfully, my stepfather was amenable to dropping my mother and I off. Hopping out, my mother and I hurried indoors to the closest shopping centre in the heart of Hobart.
The first was Centrepoint. A shopping mall with speciality retailers, it had a Dymocks that I quickly found myself browsing through. More importantly, it had public toilets my mother and I took advantage of. I was also curious about the Tassie Makers Market store but found nothing of interest on its shelves that would suit my souvenir needs. In fact, given Hobart is just another city in Australia, most of the souvenirs simply did not pass muster as being unique enough to warrant purchasing for my various friends.
Albeit, perhaps I ought to have taken a longer look at the gift shop in Port Arthur. Surely there might have been something I could have brought home to say I had been to the former penal colony.
From Centrepoint, my mother and I meandered towards the shopping arcade opposite: Cat & Fiddle. As we toured the shops, we slowly made our way to Elizabeth Street Mall. Once I'd sufficiently judged their rather lacklustre collection (though I did buy a Funko Pop of Senshi from Dungeon Meshi and agonised over whether or not to buy a few more packs of DIsney Lorcana (at time of writing this post in May, Wilds Unknown has just released and I managed to snag ALL the legendaries in just TWO booster boxes AND be blessed with Jack Jack. While it was not the Enchanted I wanted, nor the Iconic, the odds of pulling cards was significantly better than any previous set. Here's hoping I get lucky again with Attack of the Vine).
Before heading back, my mother and I also took a detour to Area 52, a game store not too far from the shopping mall. Though my mum was less than impressed, I had wanted to see what merchandise they had on sale and was impressed by their wide selection of fantasy and science fiction novels to the board games on display. While I chose not to purchase MORE Disney Lorcana, I knew that if I were to ever revisit Hobart again, I knew exactly where I ought to head.
With the afternoon swiftly fading, my mother and I decided it was best to head back to our hotel. Instead of trying our luck with the public transport, we walked back (getting in valuable steps). Thankfully, much of the earlier heat had abated and it was a ismple trek down Sandy Bay Road to reach the hotel we had booked for our stay.
Thus ended our sojourn into the city. While I would have preferred a visit to the MONA or another museum close by, I still managed to satisfy my itch to explore the city.
Tomorrow, we would be heading back to Sydney. But first, we would need to drive all the way back to Launceston...
My dear reader, it is with a heavy heart that I bring, for your viewing pleasure, the end of Veil Between. No longer will I have unedited parts of my short story kept in reserve when I have no idea what to offer to this small corner of the internet. Instead, you'll have to suffer through the odd gaming post and the occasional attempt at philosophical whimsy.
Or is it?
The good news, dear reader, is that I have finished another eldritch horror short story! Set in the Australian outback, it follows a private investigator as she tries to track down two missing backpackers. Along the way, she uncovers the secrets of the fictional town of Woollanoogatta. But that's not all! Sharing the spotlight are snippets of a girl called Shiraz and her interactions with a mysterious box she finds in a local pawn shop.
Best of all, though, is the fact I've started work on yet another short story. It is tentatively titled Hive. The story revolves around a history professor and a break-in where an artefact of unknown origin is stolen. While I have an idea of how the story ends, the middle bits still need a bit of teasing out before I have a full picture.
Presumably, though, it's set in the UK.
In terms of my personal life, 2026 has not been a very good year. At time of writing this post (May), both of my paternal grandparents have passed. First, my grandmother and then shortly thereafter, my grandfather. As yet, I am uncertain if I'll be expected to return to China for a reading of the will. Admittedly, it's something I've been dreading as I simply don't have enough annual leave (what with a five week trip to the United Kingdom and Singapore also underway).
But these are concerns outside the realm of my control. I will simply have to cross that bridge once I get there.
Meanwhile, the next gaming blog post should be about Dragon's Age Veilguard. Finally I can get into all the 2025 video games that have been languishing in my backlog! The one I'll be tackling first? South of Midnight and then Clair Obscur: Expedition 33.
And yes, Expedition 33 is skipping ahead of Assassin's Creed: Shadows and Like a Dragon: Pirate Yakuza in Hawaii. Why, you may ask? Because I want to play it before I turn 34 and get gommaged out of existence.
With that all out of the way, please enjoy the final part of Veil Between!
---
The ballroom looked almost unchanged when I opened my eyes. Or so I thought. But as I looked closer, I could see the shattered windows and the broken tables. Strangely enough, the chandelier remained untouched. How it had escaped the carnage, I could not say.
Of the eldritch monster, there was no sign. I could not tell if it had been killed or if it had been banished back to where it had come from. Nor could I see the others.
All I knew was that I had returned. And Mike was not with me.
Panic spiked through my veins. I called out to him but received no response. I whirled on my heels and headed towards the grand doors, pushing them open.
A groan close by drew my attention. Stepping over the debris and into the adjacent room, I found Copernicus. He was lying on his back, wounded. A nasty slash to the ribs. I knelt down next to him, unsure if I ought to add pressure to it or if it would only make it worse. âWhat happened?â I asked.
âAh, Mr Brookstone. I wondered when you would return to us.â
âThis isnât the time for jokes, Copernicus. Youâre hurt.â
âAstute as always,â came the pithy rejoinder before he hissed with pain. Copernicus motioned to his side. âThis comes courtesy of Madam Xanthe. I knew her for a snake but I hadnât quite anticipated just how ferocious she would be cornered. Nor had I expected an ally.â
âWho?â
Copernicus shook his head, his breathing tight. âIâve already made a call to the authorities. You need to stop her before they get here. Lest she unleash something truly horrifying into our world.â
Reluctantly, I rose to my feet. It was difficult, leaving Copernicus behind, but there was only so much aid I could render him beyond tearing off a sleeve, placing it atop his injuries and telling him to hold it in place to stem the bleeding. He had listened as graciously as he could before shooing me off.
My steps were heavy as I approached. I had no weapons. No tricks.
The sight that greeted me could have been lifted from a badly written movie. Hovering protectively over Adeline was Patrice. In both hands, she gripped knitting needles. Maria stood opposite her, one arm hanging limply at her side, her rapier wielded in her non-dominant hand. Not too far from them lay Rachel, her unseeing eyes gazing up towards the ceiling of the garishly decorated room, which was now little more than a ruin.
Deep gashes scored the carpet, biting into the wood panelling beneath. The centre table had been knocked aside and the drapes lay quiet on the ground. Faint Latin words adorned the doorway. Brackish black, they looked to have been burned into the frame.
Mariaâs eyes darted to me and widened in surprise. It was enough.
Taking advantage of the opportunity afforded her, Patrice lunged forward, leading with her right hand. Maria stumbled backwards, barely parrying the strike and too slow to stop the second. The needle sunk in deep as Maria let out a surprised gasp.
She looked from Patrice to me before her eyes flickered to something behind me. Fear flashed over her face. She opened her mouth, whether to scream, to warn or to curse, I could not say. Before anyone could react, an invisible force lifted her up from the floor and snapped her neck.
Mariaâs dead body crumbled to the ground. Like her strings had been cut.
Just as I was trying to understand what was happening, something tackled me from behind. I whirled round at the last moment, back thumping against the ground, as familiar fingers curled around my neck.
I gasped for air, tapping at his hands and arm to plead with him to let go, but Mike only tightened his grip. Intent, it seemed, on crushing my windpipe.
My thoughts whirled. A part of me was glad he was back. Another was terrified this would be the end. But a third was only concerned with what Mike had borne witness to, trapped in another world. What had caused him to hate me so that he saw as naught but an enemy?
These thoughts and more flitted through my head as each attempt to free myself grew more desperate. But the pressure only increased.
As my vision began to darken at the edges, Mike suddenly slumped forward with a groan. He had been knocked unconscious from a blow to the head.
I took a moment to recentre myself, dragging in lungful after lungful of air. Once some semblance of strength had returned to my limbs, I pushed Mike gently to the side. Â
âYou all right there, Jordie dear?â asked Patrice as she lowered the broken vase and dusted off her hands.
âShaken,â I managed to say, massaging my throat. âMike. Is heâŠ?â
Patrice nudged him with the toe of her foot. âStill alive. Probably has a wicked concussion, though.â She nodded towards Mikeâs unconscious body as if she had settled a debate of some kind. âGoes to show why omegas should never try to usurp the alpha.â
âYou do, realise, Patrice, that AO3 is a site for fictional stories. Right? Targeted for people who enjoy particular shows or book series? And that some of the things written on there are just not talked about in polite society?â At her nonchalant shrug, I let out a deep sigh, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose âFor the love of GodâŠweâve talked about this, Patrice. Countless times. Were you not listening?â
âMight have,â she sheepishly admitted. âIt was all so dreary. You really need to dress up the way you teach, Jordie. Make it fun. Less boardroom presentation and more of a party slideshow. If you know what I mean.â She offered me a hand to help me to my feet and I accepted it graciously, allowing her to pull me up.
As the adrenaline from the last few moments faded, I glanced behind over towards Adeline. The Faversham heir was still breathing, albeit shallowly. Blood soaked her shirt and she looked to have an innumerable number of cuts on her arms and face. All of it told a frightening tale that I didnât want to acknowledge. Was Adeline also a traitor. If so, why had Patrice tried to defend her?
The question must have shown on my face for as soon as Patrice joined me, she shook her head. âAdeline, sweet girl, is an innocent. It was Rachel. She and Maria, theyâre part of the same fanatical sect of worshippers. As was Magdalene.â
I glanced over at Rachel. Never in my wildest dreams would I have assumed the strait-laced personal assistant capable of betrayal. And yet, here was the proof before my very eyes. âBut why? What did they gain from all this senseless death?â
âMoney. And, in my opinion, a powerful artefact.â
âThe pendant?â I asked, turning to face Patrice.
The Scotswoman nodded. âItâs the only explanation. Though what they need it for, I donât quite know. Copernicus had his theories, of course, though he hadnât seen the point of sharing them. Heâd been looking into their cult for years. Lucky thing, that. Spotted the mark of the stars the two of them bore within seconds.â
âWhy didnât he tell me any of this?â
âWasnât your fight, was it?â said Patrice. âYou had other concerns.â She nodded towards Mike, who was now stirring on the ground.
When Mike opened his eyes, he looked lost and confused. The rage from earlier had been snuffed out. Replaced, instead, with fear at my approach.
Days after, I would remember the way he flinched as I reached out to touch him. The sight of it had broke my heart.
I knew then something in Mike had radically changed. He was no longer the man I knew.
But to have tossed him to the side like yesterdayâs trash was anathema to me.
Mike was hurt. Traumatised. It was only right for me to be there for him at every step of his recovery. To serve as his protector as he readjusted. No matter what the cost, or the burden placed upon me.
After all, the world was a terrifying place. Filled with unempathetic monsters who didnât care for the lives of others. And God knew it was made worse by the enemies lurking behind a flimsy magical barrier that were intent on taking over the Earth for their own nefarious reasons.
Yet, even with the odds stacked against us, I knew Mike and I would get through this like we always did.
This time, we even had a few staunch friends on our side.
If you had the power to go back and rectify a wrong, would you do it? What if it was to save the life of someone you care deeply about? Going through life, there have been moments where I've wondered what it might be like if I could just hit reset or reload a previous save and redo my choice based on the knowledge I now had. It's tempting to go for the 'perfect' run that is life instead of being weighed down by the mistakes of the past. Yet, it is these moments that define us and make us who we are. If I changed pivotal aspects of how my life has played out, would I even be the same person as I am now?
This is a question Life is Strange: Reunion attempts to tackle with rather middling results. While Deck Nine try to let Max Caulfield have her cake and eat it too, the fact she barely faces any significant consequences for her meddling with the space-time continuum left much to be desired. Especially when Moses, one of her best friends at Caledon University, tries to emphasise to our would-be hero that even with her ability to rewind time, she is only one person and much like everyone else in the world she can only make the best decision she can based on the limited information she has in a given situation.
Whether or not Reunion should have been the follow-up to Double Exposure is a debate for another time. As for whether there will ever be any further follow-ups to the franchise, one can hope but it would need to be a fresh new idea that does not retread familiar ground. Not to mention the whole Diamond storyline that never saw resolution.
Then, of course, there's the whole Safi elephant in the room. And for her, I only have a few choice words:
Safi, girl, I know you want to form a polycule with Chloe and Max, but please. Being too clingy is not a good look.
With that out of the way, let's dive in!
Life is Strange: Reunion begins with Max returning to Caledon after a successful run of her gallery show of her photography series in New York. As she rests near an overlook, she receives a cryptic call from Moses. Terrified of what it might mean, she hops back into her car. Once she reaches the campus, however, Max finds the entire university aflame. She heads first to a locked auditorium where students are trapped before heading to the observatory. Up on the roof, she spies Moses and a green-haired girl in his arms. They fall and Max is blown back by an explosion. Regaining consciousness mintues later, she uses the polaroid photo she took three days ago and jumps back into the past to prevent the fire from happening in the first place.
So, begins the premise of Life is Strange: Reunion where Max has to figure out how the fire in Caledon started and attempt to stop it. But this latest entry in the Life is Strange franchise is not solely Max's story. It also belongs to Chloe.
Following the ending of Life is Strange: Double Exposure, Max has merged two disparate timelines together in order to keep Safi alive. In so doing, she also inadvertently brought back Chloe (or Arcadia Bay if you decided on the Bae ending). In fact, the first few scenes of the game feature Chloe Price in the green room of a dive bar suffering an existential breakdown just before the band she manages, Drugstore Makeup, goes out on stage. Wanting to figure out why she is having these quasi-dreams/ nightmares, Chloe decides to pay Max a visit.
Narratively, Life is Strange: Reunion keepts it simple by focusing its overarching story on stopping a future fire at Caledon University. For most of the early chapters, Max investigates potential leads, including an abandoned building belong to the campus occult club, the Abraxas society. Yet deespite the fact she is a member of the faculty, Max is relatively ignorant of the festering anger in Lakeport and the rather aggressive overtures by the new Presiden of Caledon, Owen Teller.
As I played through these portions of the game, I could not help but wonder why it would take an actual disaster for Max to actually become cognisant of all the internal politics happening on campus. But hey, what do I know? I'm not an indie artist. And I'm certainly no teacher with a portfolio of amazing photographs that my agent is trying to set up a gallery for.
While on her one-woman crusade (with a little help from science professor Moses), Max finds herself skulking around the Abraxas house in the middle of a Friday night. While there, she stumbles upon Loretta Rice, a journalist major who is intent on uncovering whatever conspiracies might be found on campus (though I found her ways somewhat questionable in Double Exposure, here Loretta isn't trying to ruin Max's life). Thankfully, with Max's presence, they manage to escape and stop an early demolition attempt. As Loretta goes to confront the people who tried to kill her (accidentally), Max is greeted by the sudden appearance of her best friend from childhood, Chloe Price.
And, if I'm being honest, the moment hit so much harder given the choice I made at the end of Life is Strange. After all, by choosing Arcadia Bay over her, Max had to deal with the guilt of her death for nigh on a decade.
After the two catch-up, with Chloe first crashing on Max's bed for the night, they decide to investigate the fire together. Meanwhile, Max promises to help understand the reason behind Chloe's visions of an alternate dimension where the lighthouse from Arcadia Bay coexists with the Outlook near Caledon.
As the game progresses, Chloe and Max uncover hidden secrets about Abraxas and its ties to former President of Caledon, Yasmin Fayyad. This information, in turns, helps them identify the various culprits behind the fire that engulfs the campus on Sunday night.
Yet despite their efforts, the observatory is still set alight by a single cigarette that drops from Safi's hand as she and Chloe disappear into a different plane of existence during an altercation in Moses's office. Max, racing back to the campus, is able to save the rest of the students with the help of the nameless custodian and a newly introduced security guard.
Though I feel the return to Max Caulfield as the protagonist in the more recent Life is Strange games a misstep by Deck Nine, I do wish to commend them for their efforts in trying to appease an impossible fanbase. And while the developers do manage to conjure up plausible reasons for both the return of Safi and Chloe, I could not help but feel most of the other characters felt like side dressing. From Amanda to Owen Teller and even Lucas.
That said, I did give Max her due and allowed her to kindle a romance with Chloe. In my own headcanon, she was still figuring things out at Blackwell Academy and was struggling to deal with a lot of trauma. It also helped, I think, with the fact Chloe is much more palatable as an adult than a troubled teen still struggling with the death of her father. Especially when you have Safi bringing in the crazy (and Chloe isn't getting up to dumb things that keep getting her killed).
But I also feel Deck Nine played to their strengths by keeping the game pushing forward without feeling the need to stop every two hours or so to provide a stats screen of one's choices. Yes. You read that right. Reunion does away with the usual chapters. Instead, it presents the problem Max is tackling right from the start and doesn't leave us guessing with cryptic cliffhangers that leave the player guessing as to the true nature of the fire.
Yet by keeping the story so tightly focused, I do feel like Deck Nine passed on the opportunity for a little mischief and fun side activities Chloe and Max could partake in. True, Max does get to duel it out in a silent auction with Vinh AND listen to questionable poetry at an open mic night at the Snapping Turtle, yet the game did not capture my imagination as well as the LARP event Alex Chen enjoyed in Haven Springs.
From a gameplay perspective, Reunion sticks to its roots. Max is, once again, able to rewind time. This allows her to play out different scenarios to her advantage. Whether it's with a heckler at the Snapping Turtle or with Board Member Yasmin Fayyid. Admittedly, there was some tension when Max and Loretta were stuck in the basement of the Abraxas house and desperately trying to escape before the four charges that were set in its foundations exploded.
With Chloe returning as a playable character, she is able to access her 'super' power of Backtalk. To my chagrin, though, these events were few and far between. Much of Chloe's playthrough simply involved interacting with a key item and then moving on to the next conversation with an important character.
Other than that, much of Reunion simply required Max and Chloe to suss out any and all suspicious items within their vicinity. This could then be added to the evidence whiteboard in the latter part of the game. The only other interesting gameplay aspect of the game included the various collectibles for both Max and Chloe. With a handy guide on hand, finding these took little effort, though I suppose the commentary for each added a little more personality to each character.
Technically, Life is Strange: Reunion had a few hiccups during my playthrough. The major one that irritated me the most? The texture pop-ins. Despite releasing in 2026, Reunion felt like a game from ten years ago with the way it handled loading for the various environments that made up Caledon University.
I also disliked how few places there were to explore. Reunion kept you gated on the main pathway with little in the way of exploration. While there were a few new places the game takes you, these areas were small and kept you locked in place.
Life is Strange: Reunion is not a perfect game. Though I feel like the developers could have done much more with Life is Strange IP, what they brought to life still has its merits. While the themes remain a little thin and it feels like Max never truly learned the lesson she should have back in the original Life is Strange, it was a nice diversion to return to familiar characters and see how much their life has changed over the years. Should Life is Strange continue in another shape or form, I would like to see what original ideas Deck Nine can bring. It's clear they have a passion for storytelling even when it falters at times.
On a side note, I really loved the autumnal aesthetic.
Being a well-travelled veteran, I'm not overly wedded much to the idea of seeing absolutely everything on offer. For one, I have, what you might call, particular tastes. But the secondn reason is that I prefer making sure my relationships wiht others is placed above the need to be difficult. A wisdom I hoped to impart on my mother with rather middling success.
Granted, there is nothing wrong with seeing everything within a given area (if there is sufficient time and interest) but occasionally, one should do advance research before imposing their wants on an entire adventuring party. And this is where I felt my mother fell short when it came to our day trip to the Tasman peninsula where Port Arthur, renowned for being a penitentiary to early convicts in Van Dieman's land along with the 1996 massacre, was located.
A UNESCO World Heritage historic site, Port Arthur is considered one of the best preserved convict settlements in Australia. Established in 1830 as a timber-getting camp, for three long years, convicts were expected to produce sawn logs for government proejcts. From 1833, it was used as a punishment station for repeat offenders from all the Australian colonies.
The system Port Arthur used was one modelled on discipline and punishment, religious and moral instruction, classifcation and separation, training and eudcation. This was evident in the grounds my family got to exploring. From the convict church to the farms and the various other buildings kept in good repair. In fact, by 1840, there were more than 2.000 individuals who lived at Port Arthur.
It closed finally in 1877 with many of its buildings dismanteld or destroyed. Others were sold and the area gradually became the centre of anew town named Carnarvon. Yet first-hand stories of convict life proved to be a major drawcard. By the 1920s, convict-period buildings had become museums, hotels and shops. The settlement was once again named Port Arthur and has become a key tourist destination for the whole of Tasmania.
And it was one of the main draws, at least to me, for taking a trip down to the southern state for a brief holiday in the last month of summer.
The visitor centre was an impressive modern entry into Port Arthur. After purchasing our tickets, we paid a visit to the gallery underneath where a scaled model was there for all to admire. I took particular interest in the exhibits featuring an apothecary set and the surgical equipment of the time. But the one my mother engaged with the most were the stories of the different convicts that had been incarcerated at Port Arthur - represented by a suit of playing cards. By the end, our family had four individual ones my mother chose to keep as a memento and souvenir of our visit.
Once we had seen our fill of the visitor centre, we headed out into the open air. As we would soon be enjoying a harbour cruise, our family decided to first pay a visit to the Government Gardens close by. While my mother struggled to push Popo along the curated pebble paths in her wheelchair, I headed up to Government Cottage and Convict Church. When we had seen our fill, my mother and stepfather decided to take a few snaps of the actual penitentiary building from a distance. We then headed to the harbour cruise jetty to await our thirty minute tour around the small harbour.
On the cruise, we learned of Point Puer (a word I had happened to learn not too long ago when I was watching a Healthy Gamer video from the one and only Dr K - yes, I know. I watch an eclectic number of video essays to while away the time grinding in video games), which was a sanctioned juvenile prison that was closed in the 1840s due to poor living conditions (all supplies needed to be brought over separately) and the fact fewer children were being transported. Those there were also beginning to age out or had already finished their sentences.
Our boat also paid a visit to the Isle of the Dead. A small island, it hosted a cemetery where almost all who died - prisoners and staff - were buried. The cemetery was closed following the closure of the Port Arthur penal settlement before being reacquired and managed by the Tasmanian government in the early 20th century. While a contingent of people were supposed to disembark on the Isle of the Dead, due to weather conditions, they were unable to do so.
Still, it was an extra fifteen or so minutes before we returned to the jetty. By then, I and the famiyl were quite hungry. As we made our way to the Asylum Cafe, we wended our way through the penitentiary, the remains of the law courts and the rebuilt police station. Of the Commandant's House and Guard Tower, we had managed to see them out on the water and I, personally, did not feel compelled to go in for a closer look.
Our late lunch was a simple affair of overpriced sandwiches and salads. Still, we ate our fill and I also got to enjoy a hot chocolate to tide me over for the rest of the afternoon. From there, we visited the Separate Prison, the Farm Overseer's Cottage and had a look at hte exterior of the Visiting Magistrate's House, the Roman Catholic Chaplain's house and the Junior Medical Officer's House.
Before too long, we had toured the entirety of the Port Arthur grounds and had headed back to the car. While I would have liked this to be the end of our Tasman Peninsula adventure, we also stopped by the Tasman's Arch and strolled along the Devil's Kitchen Circuit. Along the way, we also passed by another lavendar farm (which my mother wanted to stop by for more vibrant lavender photos though it was not the season they would be in bloom) and the Tasmanian Devil Unzoo.
Admittedly, being from Australia and having seen Tasmanian Devils in a few other zoos ALL around Australia, I had not felt compelled to pay the Unzoo a visit. But my mother was adamant about having a look around and not missing what she had deeemed 'important' sites. While I cannot fault her enthusiasm, both my stepfather and Popo were less inclined to stop.
So, when me, my stepfather and Popo enjoyed the Tasman's Arch and the walkable portion of the Devil's Kitchen circuit, my mother took the hire car so she could take a photo of the lavender farm we had passed by. The Tasman's Arch, it must be said, it a tall natural bridge along the sea cliffs. Though it used to be a blowhole, time had seen the cave roof erode, leaving only a land bridge over the top.
Once Popo, my stepfather and I had taken in everything there, we called my mother for a pick-up. For a good twenty or so minutes, we waited for her arrival. Settling my grandmother in the shade, I kept busy doomscrolling through Facebook and reading tidbits of the latest fanfiction that had caught my eye (still CaitVi) until my mother pulled into the carpark.
From there, it was an hour or so drive back to Hobart.
As the Lunar New Year was soon upon us, our family decided to celebrate by enjoying a fine and contemporary Japanese dining experience at Suminato. Though we had not made a reservation, we had arrived early enough in the evening to take a table. After a considerable meal, we left full and satisfied.
Before returning to our hotel, we also decided to drive by Hobart's historical icon: Wrest Point Hotel Casino. As Popo and I waited in the car, my mother and stepfather headed out to snap quick photos of the building.
By the time we returned to our hotel, the hour was late. In the room I shared with Popo, I noted down the key parts of my travel, played an hour of Pokemon Legends: Z-A and settled in for the night.
We would soon be returning back home to Sydney the day after tomorrow.
As a story comes to an end, I often feel a little bereft. I like to think it's because I've been in the heads of a dozen or so different characters, mapping out their lives, but the truth is I'm worried out of my mind wondering how to bring every thread I've introduced to an end. After all, I'm not someone who sits down to outline and plan how the story will go. Rather, I'm a 'make-shit-up-as-I-go' kind of writer.
While sometimes I may have an idea of where I want to go with an ending, it's usually the starting scene I have the most clarity of. And the middle is usually muddled through to the best of my abilities.
Maybe I shouldn't be so willing to reveal all my secrets but after blogging for so long, it would seem disingenuous of me to say I'm an excellent writer and these things just naturally flow from my brain.
The truth, as we all know, is far different. Every weekend, I'll sit in front of my computer and a blank Word document, thinking of what to craft next. Sometimes, by rereading the last few sentences, I can see where the story will go next. Other times, I rack my brain during my daily walks (to keep a semblance of health) to see where I might go. Then, of course, there's the occasional spark of inspiration during a shower, or when I'm lying in bed hoping for sleep to take me.
Whether or not I'll actually fulfil my dreams of becoming a published author is still very much up in the air. Though I like to think I'm writing for myself, there's a part of me who desperately wishes my work might be recognised and acknowledged by thousands.
In any case, life plods on.
People live, people die. Meanwhile, I just keep doing what I can to keep the horrors of our current age from crushing me into oblivion.
Shouldn't be too hard. Right?
----
Darkest night descended over the city. Thick heavy clouds had rolled over the sky, covering the stars. In the distance, thunder rumbled.
Inside the four walls of the colonial house, we sat in a small tight ring, clasping the hands of those next to us. Not for the first time, I wondered if I could wipe the sweat from my palms. It was hard to deny I was a bundle of nerves. What we were choosing to embark on was dangerous.
Lives were on the line.
As if to echo the direction of my thoughts, there was a loud crack above us. It was followed by a bone-tingling howl from within the house itself.
Seated at the head of our group was Maria. Before her was the pendant that had once belonged to Adelineâs father. It glinted in the candlelight, looking just as innocuous as it had the first time. Next to it was a small bowl, empty save for a few sprigs of rosemary and sage. An obsidian dagger sat atop it, glistening still from being blessed thrice.
âRepeat after me,â commanded Maria. âWord for word.â
Her gaze swept over us. Then, satisfied with what she saw, Maria closed her eyes and began to intone the Latin words in a guttural voice unlike anything Iâd ever heard before.
After a momentâs hesitation, each of us joined our voices with hers. As we did, the rhythm quickened, becoming a chant.
Before too long, the words themselves seemed alive and we but the vessels for them. The Latin seemed to slip from my tongue as if Iâd known the language my whole life.
As the chant began to reach a crescendo, the Faversham pendant begam to glow with its own inner light, pulsing with a sickly green.
From the depths of the house came a roar. Low. Bestial. Filled with rage. Outside, visible through the large French doors, lightning flashed and thunder crashed. The entire house seemed to shudder with the sheer force of it all.
Then, before anyone could react, something smashed headlong into the wall behind me. Glass shattered and plaster dropped from above. The very foundation seemed to quake from the force of the blow.
In my shock, I almost let go of Adelineâs hand, wishing to turn around to inspect the damage. But the warning Copernicus and Maria had provided us beforehand had me tighten my grip instead. To break from each other before the ritual was complete would leave us all vulnerable.
I cast a worried look over at Maria. Her face was stricken white, eyes wide with horror. But she continued to chant, the last few syllables falling from her lips. Beside her sat Copernicus. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration though a bead of sweat had made its way down the side of his face.
As the ritual reached its end, the pendant began to float up into the air. It began to pulse with a sickly green energy. Each one larger than the next before it enveloped us all.
Lost in its glow, I did not hear the crack from behind me. It was only when Copernicus scrambled to his feet and grabbed the obsidian dagger from where it rested that I realised something was wrong.
âThe silver dust!â he shouted towards Patrice.
Letting go of my hand, she reached for the small pouch strapped to her waist. From inside it, she pulled out a fistful of silver. She whirled round and cast it in the air in front of her.
A shape began to take form, shimmering like it was from the spectral world.
There were no words to describe what I saw from over my shoulder except that it was something hideous and beyond all human comprehension. It reared on too many legs before lashing out with a grotesque prehensile limb of some kind. The claw at the end of it, snapping shut on air. A huge mouth, filled with rows of sharp teeth, cut across what looked to be its torso.
âWhat is that thing?â I asked. âItâs notâwhatever it is, it doesnât belong here.â
âAstute as always, Mr Brookstone. Unfortunately, this is no time for idle chatter. Remember the plan. Iron. And lots of it.â
Right. Of course.
I dashed towards the wall where the round tables had been stored. Adeline and Rachel and prepared a mishmash of iron weapons. From fireplace pokers to horseshoes. They had even managed to secure a number of swords, spears and axes. Obtained, presumably from museums or collectors for a hefty amount of money.
There was something to be said about having wealth at oneâs disposal.
Quickly scanning over my choices, I picked out a crowbar. It felt weighty in my hand and fit snuggly in my grasp. But, more important than anything else, it was easy to use.
There was no need for tricks and flourishes. One good whack and it could fell most things.
Just as I turned around, ready to join the fray, something hot and sharp pierced through my left shoulder. Maria stood before me; her lips curled into a rictus grin. With a grunt, she pulled out the slender blade of an elegant rapier. The hilt was inscribed with a litany of symbols. None of which I recognised though they looked similar to Akkadian.
In a voice both terrifying and beguiling, she began to chant in a language I could only describe as primordial.
The world around me began to shift; the air seemingly to shimmer with heat. In the haze, I thought I saw a flicker of something beyond the extent of human understanding. And in that liminal space, I caught a glimpse of Mike. He was lost, confused, in pain.
My heart ached. I reached for him, fingers brushing against what felt like a glass barrier. As I tried to push past it, I found myself once again in the ballroom with a battle underway. The fluttering of the space between, gone.
Maria scowled at me, the tip of her blade dripping with my blood. Whatever she had done, it had failed. Now she was intent on finishing the job.
If I was going to live, I needed to act first.
Just as I raised my crowbar in an overhead swing, the ballroom began to melt; turning into a whirlwind of colour. Metal bit hard into soft ground as I found myself in what appeared to be a forest, the trees arching overhead to look like a tunnel. Where it led, I could not say.
Of Maria, there was no sign. Hell, the entire ballroom was gone. And so were my allies.
I was alone.
Fear spiked through me, throbbing in time with the wound to my shoulder. The pain more intense than it had been before. Iâd ignored it earlier, fuelled by adrenaline, but finding myself now in a new environment, it had vanished.
The rustle of leaves behind me saw me whirling round. From the corner of my eyes, I thought I caught the shadow of something familiar.
âMichael?â I called out. âMike. Itâs me, Jordan. Iâve come to rescue you!â
Silence met my words. Seconds turned into minutes. Still I waited, though disappointment laced my tongue with bitterness.
It was always the same when it came to Mike. For the briefest moment, hope had filled me; had given me something to cling to. But as with many things, it was ripped from my grasp. Once more, I had been left wanting. Left alone to stew in my feelings of inadequacy.
And then, as despair washed over me, I heard a faint voice on the wind.
ââŠhere.â
I whirled towards it immediately, calling out before I could think better of it. âMike! Where are you?â
The response, when it came, was distant; weak. I couldnât tell if it was because he was losing strength or if he was also on the move.
Heart thumping wildly in my chest, I started down the forest path and felt the darkness envelop me. All thoughts of Patrice, Copernicus, Adeline and Rachel were pushed to the back of my mind. There was naught I could do to help them, trapped as I was.
Branches snagged on my shirt. Roots tripped me. All around me was a deathly quiet. This forest I found myself in, as I headed ever deeper, was as silent as a grave.
That should have been my first warning.
But I was desperate. My fate and Mikeâs felt deeply intertwined. And if I could not rescue him, I knew the failure of it would sit on my chest like a crushing weight.
The path felt endless. After what felt like hours, I had gotten no closer to its end. Nor had there been any sign of Mike. By then, my lips were chapped and my voice was hoarse.
Still, I pushed on.
And then, as I stepped into what looked like a forest clearing, I was blinded by a sudden flash of light.
âJordan.â
Blinking away the afterimages, I squinted at the figure standing before me. Where they had come from, I could not say. My hand tightened around the crowbar. If this was a new threat, I was not afraid to take them out. Not if it meant saving Mike from something worse than death itself.
It was the shoes that clued me in. I would have recognised them anywhere. Though they looked much more scuffed than they had before.
My gaze trailed up. Taking in the ripped jeans and the tailored shirt hanging from a gaunter frame. Then I reached his face. Mikeâs cheeks had hollowed. His hair was a mess. And there was something awfully frightful in the way he looked at me. As if he couldnât tell if I was real or a nightmare.
âMike,â I said, taking a step forward.
He recoiled. âStay away,â he warned. âI know what you are.â
âItâs me, Mike. Iâve come to rescue you.â
The laugh that emitted from Mike was harsh and bitter. Unlike anything Iâd ever heard before. It tore at something deep within my chest. Even during the worst of our fights, heâd never been like this. What exactly had he endured in this hellish realm? His eyes fixed upon me again. The hate in his glare knocked the breath from my lungs.
âDo you think Iâm fool enough to believe such an obvious trick? Leave me alone. I wonât go back. No matter what you send after me.â
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. âMike, I donât know what youâve gone through, but Iâm here now. Iâll keep you safe.â
He smacked my hand away, the one Iâd reached out to him, hissing like a feral cat. âStop lying to me. You and your illusions. Always trying to mess with my head!â Mike pressed his hands over his ears, crouching down low. âI donât want it. I donât want it. I donât want it.â
The crowbar dropped on the ground next to me as I cupped his face with both hands. âHey, hey, hey,â I said, tracing his chin and wiping away tears. âThis is real, Mike. Iâm here. And Iâll never leave you alone. Never again.â
Mike looked up at me then and something flashed across his face.
Before I could react, an invisible force smashed into my chest and sent me flying. I landed face-down on the ground with a heavy thud, wheezing from the blow. It took me several moments to catch my breath and force myself to my knees. Whatever had struck me down had not gone in for the kill.
That should have been my second warning.
Looking up, I scanned the clearing for any sign of Mike. Was he hurt? Or had he managed to get away?
Standing now, back straight, was Mike. One hand was outstretched, shaped into a claw. Trembling, the claw became a fist. One he raised upwards. The forest seemed to tilt as the ground next to me erupted. His eyes darted to the side, focused on something I could neither see nor hear.
It was then, as I tried to steady myself, that I felt a tugging in my navel. A pull leading me back home.
What time I had left was limited. If I was going to bring Mike back to our world, I needed to act fast.
Rising to my feet was easier than I expected. As I stumbled towards Mike, I felt his eyes settle on me. Cold. Piercing. Aloof.
I pushed the sight of them away. They did not belong to the Mike I knew. The Mike I loved.
Rather, they were the products of what he had borne witness to in this Hell dimension. A scar that might never heal. But it didnât matter. Not to me, anyway. I would be there for him. Through thick or thin.
He flinched as I wrapped my arms around him in an embrace. Tried to push me away. I only held on tighter.
âI know youâre scared, Mike, but Iâm really here. And together, weâre going home.â I squeezed. âI love you.â
Mike struggled in my grip, trying to break free. I wasnât going to let him. Iâd lost him once. I wouldnât again.
Screwing my eyes tight, I willed the world to right itself. We were going back home. To a cramped two-bedroom apartment in New England. And while our life there had not been perfect, it had been ours.
The heat started low. Down near my navel before it travelled up into my chest. Mike continued to fight me. His nails raked down my arms, leaving deep scratches. I ignored it. What was a little pain in exchange for a life with no regrets?
Heat suffused my very being. Then, when it felt all too much, the heat exploded outwards.
As I scan the current political landscape, I find myself asking: what does it mean to be a leader among men? In the workplace, leadership does not merely encompass the managers and directors and the managing directors. Rather, it's a quality anyone can possess. Or so tehy would like you to think. But the ability to inspire and empower those around you is not something so easily gained. And when it comes to nation building, much more is needed. From resilience to the courage needed to enact unfavourable change. For those who lead democracies, it means listening to various voices of their constituents and findign a way to thread the needle to a better tomorrow, while also working with outdated systems and ways of thinking.
Released in October 2024, Metaphor: ReFantazio is a game that perfectly encapsulates the anxiety of our current times. It begins with the death of a king. Slain in his bed by the leader of a militia army, Louis Guiabern, once the commanding officer of the state army. Following the king's death, a grand competition is declared where the next monarch will be determined by the people due to the king not having an heir (the crown prince had been assassinated years ealier. Or so it was believed).
Yes. You read that right, dear reader. In a fantastical world apeing European sensibilities (what kind of name, really, are we to make of the United Kingdom of Euchronia), the late king opted for the next in line to be decided by election. But without ballot papers. Rather, votes are predicated on a magical spell that is able to see into the hearts of the citizens to determine the victor.
Enter our protagonist. A blue-haired boy accompanied by the fairy, Gallica. His objective? To meet with a Resistance contact in the army and work together in surreptitiously bringing down Louis Guiabern by any means necessary.
While the opening moments of Metaphor felt slow and dragged out, I do feel they were imperative in establishing the world. However, those first few hours were also marred by the limited interactions and ability to explore and level up the characters due to the trademark calendar system Atlus usually employs to great effect in the Persona titles. In Metaphor, it felt like an unncessary constraint. And instead of being able to freely explore and undertake side quests, I was forced to rely on an online guide for the sake of efficiency.
From a narrative standpoint, Metaphor follows several tropes. The main character has little knowledge of the world around them, serving as our stand-in as we are bombarded with tidbits of new information. Like almost every role-playing game, he gathers to himself various allies from different walks of life, and he goes from simple errand boy to the saviour of a divided world.
Metaphor, though, does keep it fresh with the themes it wishes to explore. From poverty to racism. However, our protagonists aren't truly disciples of democracy. In fact, I took great umbrage at how they described themselves as a resistance considering they were trying to prop up the long-thought-dead crown prince of Euchronia. It would have been better to have called their group Royalists or Loyalists. And while they do try to fight against institutional injustices, their main aim is to kill Louis - who for all intents and purposes is also seeking to bring down the establishment. Albeit in a 'might makes right' kind of way and anyone who is too weak will be discarded to the wolves.
As with many role-playing games, our protagonist crosses the entire kingdom, solving the many troubles the people face. All the while, they are locked in a race for the throne with the Sanctists (the game's metaphor for religion - though, if we're being honest, it's clearly Christianity) and supporters for Count Louis.
Throughout the game, the protagonist unveils the hidden corruption beneath Sanctism, contend with other candidates for the throne (who are mostly there for their own benefit and chance to wield absolute power) and trying to stop whatever nefarious plans they believe Louis to have. It is social commentary at its finest with Sanctifex Forden seen as the stable forerunner who will maintain the status quo (by the way, it was never made clear if there were any ministers and/ or lords who helped run the country. Did the king have no advisors besides the fictional religion leader and the ousted monarchs of Oceana and Montario?) and Count Louis the firebrand seeking to destroy the establishment.
Admittedly, Louis is far more intelligent and capable than a certain individual causing chaos in our current climes. Yet, despite the potential of change he could have brought to the United Kingdom of Euchronia, Louis cares little for his common man. Misanthropic to the core, he wishes only to concentrate power and burn down the power that turned its back on him. Despite this, by the end of the game, he remains popular. Either garnering support by instilling fear in the citizens or appealing to his fellow malcontents who echo his beliefs.
Rather, it is the protagonist who represents those who yearn for a better future. It is he who is able to address the problems residents of Matira and Eht Ria suffer through. Along the way, he is empowered by the connections he makes and the bonds he forges with other similarly-minded individuals. And it is here I think Metaphor shines.
Across the world, we look to singular individual for salvation. Yet in every instance, a prime minister or a presidential candidate will always be found wanting. None of them are 'good' enough. But if I'm being honest, how can we expect change to happen overnight? Peace and the best possible outcomes for all the people in the world is not something that can be wrought instantaneously.
Change takes time. A message Metaphor also spruiks.
But more than that, change takes many hands. People need to come together. And while improvements cannot rest solely on the public, it's a concerted effort to ensure legislation and policy can be implemented to the betterment of all.
Will there still be detractors? Of course.
Will we always be able to bear witness to the future we seek? Not always.
Yet that does not mean we can give up. The world as we know it can improve but it needs fellow like-minded inviduals to come together and work together, shouldering the burdens of our collective hopes and dreams in order to bring it to fruition.
When it comes to gameplay, Metaphor: ReFantazio keeps it simple. For those familiar with the Persona or Shin Megami Tensei franchise, many of the spells will be familiar. And for those who play other turn-based role-playing games, there are still more similarities than differences: from elemental spells to buffs. Then there are the archetypes each of the playable characters can embody. Essentially a job system by another name, the flexibility for characters to jump between (and inherit skills) ensures your party is able to deal with any and all foes.
I suppose my only gripe is that enemies often lack diversity. Most of the things your party fights in the dungeons often feel like reskins with perhaps a new element or two to contend with as a means of shaking it up. Unfortunately, after trying to max out my archetypes in the Dragon Temple, I found I was almost always overlevelled for many of the foes I faced and ended up taking them out in the overworld (a quality of life improvment of being able to defeat enemies without having to enter a Squad Battle).
Dungeons, too, aren't particularly exciting though I did find the Dragon Temple somewhat tedious to venture through considering the many floors to it and the various areas nooks and crannies open for exploration. I also felt the Royal Palace and even the initial dungeon under Matira unnecssary lengthy (though this may have been due to the fact I was at-level and was often forced into a wide range of battles).
Unlike other games, there's a distinct lack of meaningful minigames in Metaphor. That said, the game does play a lot of emphasis on levelling up 'Royal Virtues (essential Social Stats from the Persona series)' through side activities and increasing social bonds with important members of the main protagonist's party.
I very much enjoyed these chats with the various different characters as they often led to tangible benefits like unlocking new abilities or the ability to upgrade the 14 basic archetypes. More importantly, they also shed light on the characters and even the wider world in the game. Were some events a little hamfisted? Sure. But this is an anime-style game. Who am I to question the logic of the world?
While Metaphor did not immediately win me over, it slowly managed to earn my trust. In my personal opinion, I feel like Atlus could have changed some of the mechanics to better fit the setting. But perhaps the reason they chose not to was to ensure it still felt like an Atlus game. Certainly, without the time management quantity, Metaphor: ReFantazio might have felt too similar to other role-playing games from recent times. It does not help when many of their characters fall into specific 'archetypes' of their own (get it, because archetypes are the jobs...you know what, forget it). From how Maria reminded me of Marlene Wallace of Final Fantasy VII fame, to how Junah's determination to be a sacrifice echoed Yuna from Final Fantasy X.
That said, Metaphor also had the paripus. And how could I not love a game that have characters with animal ears and tails?
(I swear I'm not a furry but can I say Basilio and Catherina were looking FINE!)
I also liked the design for the Eugief and the Nidia tribe also had some interesting lore attached to it. Then, of course, there's the Ishkia (though their wings are decorative rather than practical. A sore point to me and them both).
As I wrapped up my 100-hour playthrough of Metaphor: ReFantazio, I cannot shake the importance of its messaging and the salient points it makes to the human condition. Given how dire our current political climate is, the optimist in me hopes we can return to a time where the people can have frank discourse over important matters and not be dismissed or ignored simply for offering a differing point of view. Yet the pessimist in me is certain people will continue to ignore the truths and evidence before their eyes for the lies predicated on soothing their fears of the great unknown.
On a side note, the designs for the HUMANS were absolutely terrifying.
When travelling, I've always felt hard done by transit days when I move from one city to the next. It always feels like I don't get to as much exploring as I move from one quaint hotel to another in a teeming city of people. Not so this time in my February trip through Tasmania wherein we stopped by many a place to take in the sights and sounds of the small island state as we made our way from Launceston to Hobart.
The day started early. After breakfast, my family set about cleaning up the executive apartment we were staying in. We were not going to end up on the subreddit for horror hotel guests. No sirree. And if I'm being honest, I don't know how people can allow themselves to live in such squalor. Mess is just not something I can handle.
Admittedly, we did cut it a little close to the check-out time as Popo took her time going through her daily ablutions. An unfortunate fact of life when you're 87 going on 88, I suppose. The fact she was able to still tag along with us, albeit being pushed along in a wheelchair, was a testament to her hearty constitution.
Once we had stowed our luggage in our rental car, we hopped in for the drive down the coast. Our first stop was the Bicheno Blowhole. This is located at the Waubs Esplanade and is known for evening vists by fairy penguins. As we were here in the morning, we had to contend only with water erupting from the hole of a sea cave.
Could we have stopped by later in the day? Perhaps. But the drive down to Hobart was a gruelling journey and coming back up to Bicheno for a possible penguin sighting was not on our itinerary.
Admittedly, navigating the rock pools around the blowhole was a danger in and of itself. As my mother and stepfather ventured out to take photos, I brought Popo to a picnic table close to the carpark. There was no way she would be able to get any closer without risking a slip or a fall. While she was never too mobile, she had lost a lot of muscle during her long convalescence from her trip to Egypt and Turkey back in 2023.
Yet the blowhole at Bicheno was not our only stop. My mother, having completed some research online on places to visit in Tasmania, wanted us to enjoy lunch at the Lobster Shack. Though it is considered a casual wal-in cafe, the Lobster Shack is also known for serving the freshest premium Tasmanian seafood this side of the southern hemisphere. With a boat ramp just before it, we headed on in to try two whole lobsters (sold at market price, which was roughly AUD $80 each), some oysters along with a helping of chips and salad.
Though it was not quite lunch time, our early arrival meant we were able to get a table before a veritable horde descended to the lobster shack. And while not a connoisseur of seafood, I had to admit the people at Lobster Shack knew what they were doing. Especially with the amount of merchandise they also had on sale.
From Bechino, we headed further south towards Freycinet National Park. Occupying most of the Freycinet Peninsula on Tasmania's east coast, the national park is known for its secluded bays and white sandy bays. As we drove in, we stopped by Honeymoon Bay (backtracking a litle to pick up a National Park pass) before heading to the main carpark leading up to the Wineglass Bay lookout.
Honeymoon Bay, in and of itself, was a small closed off area with a camp site. The parking situation, though, was fairly atrocious with big SUVs fighting for space. Thankfully, our stay wasn't long before we were back on the road to the actual reason why we had opted to stop by Freycinet National Park in the first place.
With no visitor centre in sight, we settled Popo in the shade not too far from the carpark. As there was a significant climb ahead of us that was not wheelchair friendly, it was our only option. Letting her know we would be back within an hour or so, my mother, stepfather and I headed up to the lookout. And what a climb it was!
While sunny, there was a cool breeze as we clambered our way up. Still, I was a little overdressed and was forced to take off my jacket the further up we climbed. On the way, we passed by other intrepid adventurers including a family of four from Germany. Or so they sounded. In fact, there were quite a number of tourists. All who endured the gruelling climb just to see the wineglass shape of the bay (which, if we wanted to visit the beach was another two hour walk). At the very top, we took in the scene, snapped several photos before heading back down (which, if I'm being honest, is much easier for me than climbing up).
How best to describe the view? Though the people coming down as I was going up told me it was very much the forty minute or so slog, I do feel like I was sold on a lie. Still, the day was beautiful with its clear blue skies and the bay itself, with its white sand and blue water was a delight to take in as I caught my breath (and drank the last of my water). That said, I could not get down fast enough.
In record time, I was back at the carpark - though I did stop to snap photos of a wallaby a Japanese couple was trying to coax out from the underbrush and in clear defiance of the signs that said not to pet wild animals. From Wineglass Bay lookout, we stopped by Cape Tourville, which was a short easier walk around a lighthouse. The route was about twenty or so minutes and with its flat even surface, meant we could easily push Popo along in her wheelchair as we gawked and marvelled at nature's majesty.
There was also another wallaby in the Cape Tourville carpark!
Once we had seen our fill, it was a two and a half hour drive to Hobart. We arrived there late in the afternoon, having stopped for some fuel before crossing the bridge into the city proper. By then, the reception had closed but we were still able to pick up our keycard from the Out-of-Hours machine. Once we had unpacked, my mother and I headed to the local Woolworths (a two minute walk from our hotel) to purchase a quick dinner and some ingredients for breakfast.
Sometimes, there is no substitute for the familiar. And given Tasmania is STILL Australia, some things simply do not change when you travel to a different state for a few days.
It was not long before I hit the sack. The next day had a lot of promise. And I was eager to see what it would bring.
Although times feel dire, the world, as we know it, keeps spinning. Meanwhile, at time of writing up this post, I am nearing the end of my latest horror short story even as I work on editing my main work: Sarenhart - a Snow White retelling.
But I know the hard part is what comes next. Whether or not I find an agent and/ or a publisher so I can have it in actual print. The idea of actually showing one of my pet projects to strangers and having it judged for how worthy it is to be an actual book, though, is completely terrifying. And yet, if I want to BE an author, it's a step I'll need to take. Unless I self-publish and then do my own marketing and whatever else that goes into actual becoming a household name.
Meanwhile, the new game I've been plugging hours away has been Metaphor: ReFantazio. While I would like to have a post on it as soon as possible, it IS a Japanese role-playing game. And given my track record with such games, it's going to take a good long while before I can finish. Still, I doubt it's going to take me 150 hours. From what I can see, it might be in the ballpark of 80 to 90 hours. Still a lengthy chunk of time but not quite as long as other titles.
But back to my latest horror short story! I'm not sure if I want to publish it for free on the internet. I've really liked how it's panning out and a part of me wants to see if I could submit it for possible competitions or have it serve as the main piece to an anthology series.
That said, the same issues apply. How best to be 'discovered' by a traditional publishing house? As I ponder these existential questions, please enjoy the next part of Veil Between!
---
Looking up at the British Colonial house, I couldnât quite fathom how my life had changed over the course of two months. Though I had tenure at the university in which I taught, my extended absence had been remarked upon by many of my colleagues. The excuses Iâd provided, looked on with suspicion.
If only they knew the truth.
But, of course, none had pressed too hard. Or dug too deep.
Mike might have described me as the rising star of the anthropology department but I had few allies amongst the faculty. Many of the stuffy professors, who had been there since the turn of the millennium, had looked on with jealousy at my published papers. The years had calcified them. Turning them rigid and traditional. And none of them had picked up a pen to write anything of note beyond a grade on each studentsâ paper.
I suppose it was easier that way.
There was no one to question, really, my state of mind. Beyond my mother and a couple of my closest friends back home. Yet even they could not understand the grief that fuelled my determination though they still made sure to check in every few days or so.
None of them knew, of course, about the worlds beyond our own. Or of the supernatural beings trying to infiltrate our world. My mother, especially, would have remained unfazed if an eldritch god clawed its way out of her TV. She might have, of course, given them a stern scolding before demanding they fix what theyâd broken.
âYou ready, Jordie dear?â asked Patrice as she hooked my arm with her own and leaned in close, pulling me free from my reverie. With her free hand, she patted my shoulder. âItâs not too late, you know, if youâre getting cold feet.â
I swallowed against the lump in my throat. âWeâve come this far. And Iâve already asked so much of everyone.â
âNone of us would judge you.â
âBut I would,â I said. And in my bones, I knew I spoke truth.
Summer was fast approaching but I felt like I was still trapped still in the last month of winter. Everything inside me was cold. Frozen over. Like time had stood still when Mike had been ruthlessly torn away from me.
And though Iâd made my peace with the fact Mike might no longer be alive, I needed to know for certain.
To see it with my own eyes.
A door to the side swung open. Framed against the light stood Adeline. Instead of the grey pantsuit she had worn when we had first met, she was dressed more casually than Iâd ever seen her.
She wore a light blue denim shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. They matched nicely with white skinny jeans. Separated only by a gaudy belt with a butterfly buckle. âRachel and I have completed the preliminary preparations,â she said as soon as we joined her. âAdmittedly, the piglet was hard to find. Especially one that fit Copernicusâs exact requirements. A three-month-old babe with a dark spot on their left ear and a tail as straight as an arrow?â Adeline shook her head. âIf it hadnât been for Rachel, I donât know what I would have done.â
âIâm sure you would have figured something out. A clever girl like you.â
We followed the narrow passageway until we reached the door leading into the kitchen. Inside sat sacks of rosemary and sage along with crates filled with pure iron. Over in the corner sat a five-by-five box. Stamped on one side were the words: Fragile. This way up.
Adeline, as she had promised, had pulled a few strings and brought in a shipment of obsidian daggers. How she had done it, I couldnât say. And I was a little terrified of what her answer might have been.
There were some things, I was coming to learn, that were better left a mystery.
But the obsidian was something Copernicus had insisted upon. Supposedly, it was able to absorb negativity, which made it a crucial component in the ritual we would be undertaking at midnight.
âYouâve a talented assistant in that Rachel of yours,â said Patrice, letting out a low whistle. It was her first attempt at praise Iâd seen. At least when it came to Adelineâs no-nonsense PA.
Adeline smiled. âSheâs been a complete and utter lifesaver,â she said. âDoesnât ask questions and gets everything I request done.â
âThe two of you seem awfully close.â Apprehension filled my gut. I could see where this was going and I did not like it one bit. There were far better ways to ask such personal questions. But I knew Patrice wasnât one to listen. She just barrelled through life without rhyme or reason.
âOh, we are. Sheâs my best friend.â
Nodding sagely, Patrice, keeping her tone mild, said, âDonât you feel it might impinge on your professional relationship, though?â
A part of me wanted to smash my head against a wall. Another wanted to throttle Patrice in her sleep. In the end, all that managed to slip out was: âThough itâs none of my business, I donât think this kind of talk is very appropriate. Donât you think soââ
âOh, well, thereâs no real worry there,â said Adeline, cutting me off. âRachelâs married and IâWell, Iâm seeing someone.â
âA shame,â said Patrice.
Before she could say anything further, Rachel walked in, her high-heel boots clacking against the tiles of the kitchen. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a bun, not a strand out of place. The clothes she wore were the epitome of corporate efficiency. There was a severe look to her face as she glanced up from the clipboard in her hands.
âGood. Youâre here.â She turned to Adeline. âAccording to the notes provided by Mr Holland, we will need to complete the purifying ritual an hour prior. I have ensured everything is ready but I wanted to check in with you that thereâs nothing amiss. The threat of disembowelment from an invisible monster notwithstanding.â
âOh, donât you mind that. Copernicus has the situation well in hand.â
Rachel arched a curated eyebrow. âYou mean the Words of Power he used to keep the monster contained.â It was a statement, not a question. âAdmittedly, I was surprised to see none had come to harm over the last few months. Iâd initially assumed it was due to our competent containment and management of the property. But perhaps there was more to it than meets the eye.â
Patrice sniffed. âThe fact you doubt his ability only goes to show how little you truly understand the nature of the world we live in. Give it time. Weâre all living in a horror story. One none can ever escape from,â she said. âDeath ainât a new adventure. Itâs the end.â
Silence hung heavy in the air around us. Both Adeline and Patrice exchanged a pointed look while I tried my best to look anywhere but at the Scotswoman.
What was there to say?
Though her words rang with truth, even I was reluctant to acknowledge them. Nobody wanted to reckon with their mortality when it was so bluntly put before them. Especially when they were young and the future seemed limitless. It was easier to push it to the back of oneâs mind and think only of the next TV show to watch; the next greasy burger liable to give us heart attack.
We were saved from a response by the appearance of Copernicus.
Unlike his rather bedraggled appearance when Patrice and I had found him in some derelict part of Detroit, he had returned to his suave attire from our first meeting. His pepper had been slicked back and he was wearing a dark navy suit. One heâd rented from a local store just up the street. It fit him like a glove, giving him an air of power and authority.
He smiled at us in a manner I could only describe as benign paternalism. Despite the time Iâd spent with him over the last two months, it still irked me to see it.
There was always something theatrical with Copernicus. One last trick he would pull out of his sleeve at the last moment. Or a secret he would keep because he felt there was no need to divulge it until just the right moment.
I despised this little tic of his. But every time I raised it with Patrice, sheâd dismissed it as jealousy.
With remarkable skill, he herded us out of the kitchen and into the familiar foyer I still saw in my dreams. There was the grand staircase leading up to the second floor, the wooden banister polished to a smooth shine. To the sides sat the low coffee table where Iâd first met Copernicus working his magic through the medium of tarot. And next to it was the couch where Patrice and I had become acquainted.
It all felt a little nostalgic. In spite of how future events would pan out.
But where once Copernicusâs tarot cards had cluttered up the coffee table, there now rested a silver tray with six wineglasses filled to the brim with a red liquid. Next to them was a plate of freshly baked cookies. They looked to be either chocolate chip or raisins.
If death did not lurk right next to us, it would have been easy to believe our gathering here was something else altogether. A baby shower, maybe, or a reunion between an eclectic group of friends. Anything but the truth of the matter.
I nodded to the wineglasses. âWhoâs the extra one for?â I asked.
The corner of Copernicusâs lips curled upwards. âHow very astute of you, Mr Brookstone,â he said. âThe last is for our remaining guest. Madam Xanthe.â As he said her name, there was a knock at the door. He stepped over to greet the fortune teller, dressed once more in her outrageous outfit. âWelcome. Iâm so glad you agreed to attend.â
Maria scanned the foyer, her gaze alighting briefly on me and Patrice. âAnd leave you all in the lurch? Never. As you very well know, this is my bread and butter.â
âIâm afraid, Madam Xanthe, the ritual we will be performing today will be unlike anything youâve done before. It will take all the grit we have to pull it off. And with your aid â your ability to touch the unknown â success will be within our grasp.â
âFlattery will get you everywhere,â Maria answered with a gentle smile. She motioned down the hallway. âShall we?â
âOf course,â answered Copernicus. âAh, but I should inform you weâve still yet to chart the protection circles. I also wanted to discuss a few other matters. If you would indulge me?â
Maria touched Copernicusâs offered arm. âCertainly.â
The two of them vanished into a side room and shut the door behind them. Left with the others, I stepped over to the coffee table and picked up one of the cookies. After sniffing it for anything untoward, I gave it a test bite.
As I chewed on the first, then the second, Patrice took up a seat on the soft leather couch. From her bag, she pulled out her knitting project (now almost complete) and began to work. Adeline and Rachel also took to milling around near us, their conversation revolving on extraneous meetings and impossible deadlines.
Minutes passed before the door opened. Maria was the first to leave. Copernicus followed on her heels.
Where once there had been something jovial and friendly in the air between them, there now seemed to be brewing tension. When I glanced over towards Copernicus, now on my fourth cookie, I could see the gathering storm writ clear on his face before he smoothed it into a mask of genteel and unruffled indifference.
He looked round at us and clapped his hand together. All heads turned towards him. Patrice even set her knitting back into her bag.
âMy friends,â said Copernicus, âthank you for all coming. I know we had all agreed to put the events of two months ago behind us. But when Mr Brookstone here, reached out to me, I could not help but pity his plight. Today, we look to rectify the wrong inflicted upon him. In so doing, we seek to banish this eldritch creature stalking the halls of this very house back to its hellish domain. In so doing, we hope to return a lost soul taken from our midst.â
There was a smattering of applause. Mostly from Patrice.
Copernicus, it had to be said, was a natural orator. If he had not chosen to pursue mediumship and ghosts for an occupation, I could have seen him as a charismatic cult leader. Or a motivational speaker. Maybe, if he had played his cards right, he could even have been a billionaire CEO.
âAdmittedly, what I ask each of you present here today will not be an easy task. Nevertheless, I ask you to place your faith, and trust, in me. Now, if you would, I would like to propose a toast.â
One by one, we each took one of the prepared drinks. And, after he had exchanged a few more empty platitudes, we all drank deep of the red liquid.
There was something floral and heady about it. Unlike anything I tasted. And it was viscous. This was no wine. Worse, it seemed to burn as it made its way down my throat.
I looked over at the others, a grimace on my face, to see their reactions.
Patrice and Copernicus looked unruffled. Red was smeared across their lips but they paid it no mind as they took another hearty gulp. Adeline and Rachel, on the other hand, had somewhat queasy expressions on their faces. Their next taste was a tentative sip.
Only Maria looked out of sorts as she downed the contents of the wineglass as quickly as possible. She put it back on the tray and immediately picked up one of the two remaining cookies. She bit into it with gusto, colour returning to her cheeks.
Once we had all finished, Copernicus directed us to what might have once been a ballroom. White Ionic columns matched the white walls. Hanging from the middle of it all was a huge crystal chandelier. Intricate cornices, gilded with gold, further emphasised the inherent wealth of the Favershams. To heighten the size of it all, reflective mirrors sat at the far end.
As we entered, I stared at it all with something akin to awe. It was only after a few moments of shameless gawking that I noticed the tables and chairs pushed to the side. In their place was an intricate protection circle marked with chalk. At its centre was the piglet. Dead. Its blood drained into a bowl set next to it.
Bile raced up my throat. Hand pressed against my mouth, I looked away and fought the urge to heave up my lunch. Rachel and Maria looked like they were in a similar state once Iâd managed to take several calming breaths.
Wiping the side of her mouth with the sleeve of her ironed blouse, Rachel nodded towards the piglet. âI see youâve wasted no time.â
âIn order to keep its potency,â replied Copernicus. âIâve already begun to write down the necessary runes though Iâll need some help if we want to have it finished on time.â He turned to Patrice and Maria. âIâm hoping the two of you will be able toâŠâ He trailed off, leaving the request open-ended.
Patrice jumped in with gusto. âOf course. Itâll be childâs play.â Playfully, she nudged the fortune tellerâs elbow. âRight Maria? Or do you prefer Madam Xanthe when it comes to encounters with the unknown?â
The look on Mariaâs face was something between a grimace and an attempt at good humour. âYes, yes. I couldnât be happier to provide any assistance I can.â
The words were saccharine. An empty platitude to appease.
And it made me uneasy.
There was something else going on. What it might be, I could not guess. But I knew Copernicus had a hand in it. Possibly Patrice too. Though she did have a habit of playing along with suggestions from handsome men. She said it was her one weakness now that she was widowed and no longer had her darling Greg to keep her in check.
And, given what I knew about Maria, I could see she was certainly out of her comfort zone. All this talk about rituals was, in her words, âabove her pay grade.â
But she certainly knew how to keep up the façade.
Whatever game Copernicus was playing, she was, in my opinion, just as unwilling a player as I was.
Single's Awareness Day is often a day of mourning for this blogger. I am, after all, single. And, as the years have gone by, I have resigned myself to the fact I might never find my second half. This is, in spite of the fact, I am constantly reading a horrendous amount of smut on AO3 (please NEVER look at my tabs. Those are sacred!) and kicking my feet when a couple acts incredibly sweet in an actual published novel (though the genre cannot ever actually be romance. What romance that does exist must solely be a subplot in the grander scheme of saving the world).
Still! Valentine's Day 2026 was not without its own surprises as my family and I enjoyed our last full day in Launceston. But while I was not able to attend a pre-release event for Disney Lorcana, we did nip down to the Harvest Market, which is located in the carpark of 71 Cimitier Street.
While my stepfather remained in the hire car, me, my mother and Popo disembarked to take a gander at what was on offer. Though not as large or as impressive as the The Rocks Markets that can be found in Sydney, the Harvest Festival did have its own share of interesting produce and food options. As our family had enjoyed a hearty breakfast before venturing out, I settled on grabbing a snack for the drive ahead. This included picking up a bubble waffle drizzled in Tasmanian honey and a small hot chocolate to keep me going.
Bound to her wheelchair, Popo simply enjoyed taking in the sights and sounds of a bustling marketplace. But while I did have her try some of my bubble waffle, she was more enthralled by people-watching as we waited for my mother to return with a batch of specialised eye drops from a nearby chemist.
From the Harvest Market in the city centre of Launceston, we headed to the Bridestowe Estate - one of the world's finest lavender farms. Of course, given the fact it was February, the lavender was not quite as vibrantly spectacular as they would have been in December and January. Rather, most of it had dried out. Admittedly, there was still a dull haze in the air.
Both my stepfather and mother headed down the rows to take in the view and snap whatever quality photos they could given the season. Meanwhile, I kept my grandmother company before taking the time to peruse the items on sale - purchasing for myself a set of lavender scented soap. Once my mother returned, we bought some lavender infused ice cream to try out.
From Bridestowe, we returned to Launceston to pay a visit to a nature preserve set in the middle of a lagoon. Tamar Islands Wetlands Centre lies on the outskirts of Launceston and is abundant with plant and animal life. Though it was roughly lunch time, our family enjoyed a short traipse along the accessible boardwalk taking in the views of the tall native Tasmanian grasses. Along the way, we gawked at the gulls and swans in the distance. We even spotted a copperhead snake lying in wait though it was gone by the time we returned to the visitor centre.
The visitor centre itself was fairly small with a tiny exhibit on the wildlife of Tasmania. Though there were a number of pamphlets, it seemed like the Tamar Islands Wetlands were visited primarily by citizen scientists or birdwatchers. Tourists such as my family never stayed for long before losing interest.
By the time we returned to our car, it was mid-afternoon. Hungry, we stopped by Saigon Kitchen, a Vietnamese restaurant located on Brisbane Street. As the rest of my family enjoyed some hearty pho, I grabbed a banh mi instead. Mostly because it had been a good long while since I had one as my favourite local one closed several months back.
With our stomachs full, my mother and I traipsed over to the local pedestrain shopping mall. There, I checked out the local EB Games and debated the logistics of purchasing more Disney Lorcana cards or whether or not I ought to refrain (spoiler alert, I did not buy the Brave Little Prince Mickey playmet though I was tempted). As my mother ducked into the nearby Myers, I also stopped to have a look at a local bookstore: Quixotic Books. Though no one tilted against windmills while there, I took a gander at some of the secondhand books on display and their small section of fantasy novels.
Once I had satiated my curiosity (even though I did leave empty-handed), my mother and I returned to the restaurant to rejoin the rest of the family and head back to our accommodations.
After an arduous day out at Cradle Mountain the day before, all of us were agreed a quieter day of rest was needed to recover our spirits and prepare us for when we would be heading to Hobart the next day.
Could I have gone back to the city centre to partake in more Disney Lorcana? Perhaps. But the thought of heading back out after a big morning out felt like anathema to my state of mind. Besides, it was easier to watch the Winter Olympics on the TV and enjoy a sedate Saturday afternoon as I played more of Pokemon Legends: Z-A.
Yet as my mother and I lounged on the couch, we snuck in a movie - letting it take us on a journey to the fantastical imaginings of what it would be like to live in a world where dinosaurs had been let loose on the world in Jurassic World Rebirth (which, if I'm being honest, simply does not hold a candle to the very first Jurassic Park and fails to inject the sense of awe we all felt during that brachiosaurus scene even as it tries to emulate it to the best of its ability).
So ended our last day in Launceston. Next stop: Hobart!
"The more things change, the more they stay the same." This quote seems more apt as ever with the world in turmoil. At time of posting, it has been just shy of two weeks when the United States of America and Israel launched an attack on Iran. While I hope this will be in the rearview mirror when this post goes live, the current situation feels dire. Even as I go about my daily life, there is a cognitive dissonance to the fact thousands of people are dying and in my perfect corner of the world, we're all shaking out fists at the outrageous prices of petrol.
Yet while this feels like small potatoes for someone in the city, I'm sure months down the line, we'll all feel the bite when there's less produce because farmers did not have the necessary resources to sow crops or prepare their fields.
Though we might shrug at a pebble thrown into a pond, the ripple effects it can have from a global perspective can be devastating. But of course, these things are all outside the control of the average citizen going about their day. How can it be that the Strait of Hormuz be closed but I, a mere blogger, can still go attend an anime convention? It boggles the mind.
Anyways, enjoy another part of Veil Between!
--
Luck was with us when we caught up with Adeline Faversham at Gate 42 inside the Louis Armstrong airport. She had on a pair of flashy sunglasses and was dressed modestly in a grey pantsuit. The beige suitcase she was using for carry-on sat beside her as she waited for her flight to be called.
Her lips thinned as soon as she saw us.
As Patrice took the spare seat next to her, she whipped off her sunglasses to glare at the Scotswoman. âIâm afraid the seat is taken.â
âMy apologies. I suppose whoever you were travelling with will have to sit elsewhere,â Patrice answered glibly. She made no attempt to stand.
âWhat are you doing here?â hissed Adeline.
Patrice smiled. âSame as you. Escaping New Orleans. What with that nasty business and all a week ago. And since this is my first time in America, I thought visiting Boston would be nice. Jordie, here, is keeping me company. Bereavement leave, you see.â
Adeline turned her sharp gaze on me. I offered her a jovial wave as I hefted my backpack to sit more comfortably on my shoulders. She looked back at Patrice.
âI thought our instructions were clear,â she hissed, voice barely audible over the hubbub of the airport. âNo contact. No playing the hero. We all agreed to ââ
âFunny thing about being unconscious,â I interrupted. âYou canât consent.â
Adeline eyed me warily. âSo, youâre the reason behind this ambush.â She tugged on her suit jacket and flicked off a piece of non-existent lint. âLook, Iâm sorry about yourâŠfriend. I didnât know him but I am sorry for your loss.â
âHeâs not gone. Not in the sense you mean.â
âIâm sure you think that butââ
âHe isnât,â I said, tone sharper than I intended. âAnd I understand why you might have reservations. All of this is outside your wheelhouse. You were just trying to maybe reach out to your deadbeat dead dad. Maybe seek some closure. I donât know. Then it all went sideways. A woman was killed and a man has gone missing. When Copernicus did his thing, it was easy to write this up as a nightmare and push it to the back of your mind. Any responsibility you felt was washed away with but a small sum paid and sealed with blood. Am I wrong?â
A few moments passed between us, the tension so thick, one could cut it with a knife.
Finally, Adeline spoke. âWhat do you want?â
âMike. Heâs still out there. I mean to find him and bring him back home. In order to do it, I need your pendant. The one belonging to your father.â
Adeline tossed her head back and barked out a laugh. When I didnât reply in kind, she wiped the corners of her eyes. âYou canât be serious. Heâsââ
âGone,â I said. âYou donât need to keep reminding me. But weâve done the impossible before. Why not again? If we can justââ
âWhat? Unleash whatever horrors lie beyond upon our world? Youâve got to be out of your fucking mind.â Adeline fiddled with her sunglasses. âMy family might be rich but even theyâd say your proposition was insane. And theyâve tackled all manner of downright stupid ventures. Besides, youâre forgetting one important thing.â
âOh?â
âUnless Iâm mistaken, none of us know the first thing about magic.â
I glanced over at Patrice, hoping she might chime in with an answer. After all, she had been the one to tell me about the eldritch powers beyond our knowing. Instead, she had pulled out a novel from her bag and seemed engrossed by its pages. On its cover was a man with a flowing mane of dark hair. He was wearing tight leather pants and an unbuttoned white shirt. A dashing maiden was in his arms, looking up at him with a lovelorn look.
âMaybe so but you and I both know someone who might,â I said, pulling my eyes away from the indecent scene on display. There was no mistaking what Patrice was reading. Even if I desperately wanted to. âCopernicus. Find him, repeat the ritual with those who were in attendance and maybe itâll open enough of the barrier for us to send whatever creature that came through back to its own world and Mike will be returned to us in exchange.â
Adeline narrowed her eyes. âAnd how do you know this will work? What if something else comes through and kills us? We barely escaped with our lives as is.â
I shrugged. âMaybe. But itâs a risk Iâm willing to take. And unless you want your name dragged through the mud, youâll agree. If Iâm wrong, well, no harm. Copernicus will do his magic thing again and keep it trapped. Then we can all go home and forget any of this happened. If youâre especially lucky, maybe Iâll be the one who vanishes.â I flashed her a quick reassuring smile, hoping I sounded convincing enough.
Mike was always better at charming others than I was. He had a knack for making the impossible sound reasonable plausible.
After a beat, Adeline let out a huff. âFather always said I was too soft,â she muttered quietly under her breath.
âThink of it as playing philanthropy,â added Patrice. âAll the money in the world and what has it brought you?â
âYouâre not wrong there,â said Adeline. âFine. But, Jordan, Iâm giving you one chance.â She pulled out a business card. âHere. These are the contact details of my personal assistant. Get in touch with her when you have the chance. If we arenât overprepared then weâre underprepared. And I have a feeling weâll need to be ready for any and all situations.â
Relief flooded through me as I took the proffered card. âThank you. I wonât let you down.â
âItâs not me youâll be letting down,â said Adeline, putting back her sunglasses. âItâs Mike.â She rose from her seat and grabbed hold of her carry-on luggage. âHeâs the reason youâre doing all this, right? Be strong. For him.â
As the call went out for all priority guests to begin boarding, Adeline waved goodbye to them and strode towards the gate. Just before she scanned her boarding pass, she glanced over her shoulder and lowered her sunglasses.
âOh, before I forget, I did ask Rachel to do some digging into âCopernicus.â Iâll let her know to send what she found over to you as soon as you contact her.â With that, Adeline turned on her heel, pressed her phone against the reader and sauntered onto the boarding bridge.
Two down. One to go.
~
âThis canât be right.â
âItâs the address Rachel gave us.â
âLet me see that.â Before I could refuse her, Patrice plucked the scrap of paper, scribbled with Copernicusâ address, from my hand. She squinted down at the street number and name then back up at the faded 53 atop the archway. With a loud sniff, she handed the address back to me. âHow well do you think we can trust this Rachel?â
I shrugged. âDoes it matter? When was the last time Copernicus replied to you on the forum?â
Patrice crossed her arms. In the two and a half weeks since we had become acquainted, Iâd quickly learned the Scotswoman held very strong opinions about almost everything. More importantly, she did not like it when I pointed out the faults in her logic. In her mind, she was never wrong. Â
I took one last look around. The windows on the first two floors had been smashed. Most had been boarded up though some had been left gaping open. Darkness swirled within. On the old brick façade, colourful graffiti had been sprayed. None of them tasteful. In one quick scan, Iâd counted about thirty slurs and just as many depictions of penises.
Not quite how Iâd pictured the abode of the gentleman Iâd been introduced to as Copernicus. But I suppose there were multiple facets to each person.
The intercom system was simpler than I expected. It was a list of four names and their associated apartments. I pressed the button next to âLyle Holland.â Â
It rang out for a minute or so before a voice came through, tinny and distorted. âFourth floor. Just leave the pizza at the door. Second on your right.â
Patrice was already pushing against the main entrance before he buzzed us in.
The two of us climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. By the time we reached it, I was out of breath. Patrice, on the other hand, was still raring to go. She knocked at Copernicusâ door. A rapid tat-tat.
Patrice, however, ignored his request and seemed only to hammer on the thin wooden barrier harder. For a moment, I worried she might break it down. Then, without warning, it swung open. An irritated Copernicus stood in the threshold, a scowl on his face. His gaze darted from Patrice to me, uncomprehending.
âWhereâs my pizza?â he finally asked.
âWe donât haveââ Before I could finish, he slammed the door shut.
Immediately, Patrice was knocking on it again. A furious rhythm that even had me sympathising for the older gentleman.
âIf you donât have my pizza, go the fuck away!â
I tried my best to keep my tone civil. âListen, we just want to talk to you.â
âNot interested,â he responded, sharply âI donât do charities. Or government surveys. I refuse to support girl scouts on principle and I despise donating to the poor.â
âWhat about having a civil discussion about all things occult, Copernicus? Or do you prefer Lyle?â Patrice said, stepping in.
A pregnant pause followed her words. Just as I was about to suggest we regroup and come back at a later date with a plan of attack, the door opened again. Copernicus blinked at us. He was dressed in a ratty shirt and sweatpants. âBoudicca.â
Patrice inclined her head. âAt your service.â
He turned to me, eyes looking up and down. Puzzlement was replaced with recognition. âMr Brookstone. How delightful of you to visit.â He opened the door wider and stepped to the side. âPlease. Come in, come in. Pardon the mess, I wasnât expecting guests.â The last was a subtle jab. One I refused to acknowledge as Patrice and I stepped through the threshold.
Discarded pizza boxes were the first thing to catch my eye followed by the mountains of black garbage bags dotted in the narrow hallway. Further inside was a couch that had clearly seen better days. Next to it were stacks of newspapers. Glancing at them, most seemed decades old. All from different outlets.
On a coffee table covered with mugs sat a deck of tarot cards. Only one card sat on its lonesome: the grinning skull of Death.
âI suppose youâve reached out to the others despite my instructions,â said Copernicus, making space for us to sit. âNo, no. Thereâs no need to answer. I already know why youâre here. Youâre in search of dear Michael Hillier, AKA Doyle. But of course, itâs hard to find someone who has simply vanished.â
Frustration bubbled inside me. Why were people so adamant about telling me I was on a foolâs errand? âHeâs not deââ
âDead? Well, of course not. But in the eyes of the world, heâs as good as.â Copernicus raised a finger, forestalling my next protest. âPeople who cross between worlds, Mr Brookstone, are rare. Those who survive whatever ordeal they face there are even rarer.â
âIt doesnât matter. I know Mikeâs alive. And heâs waiting for me.â
The older man shook his head, a sympathetic smile on his lips. As if he wanted to bring me into his confidence. God, how I wanted to punch the smug white bastard in the jaw. âMr Brookstone, am I right to assume you know nothing of portents and omens? That youâve only listened to half an ear to Mr Hillierâs various monologues on the subject?â
âWell, when you put it like thatââ
âPlease, Mr Brookstone,â said Copernicus, interrupting me. âIâd rather you not waste our time by saying something truly embarrassing. Suffice it to say, spiritualism and the occult are not your forte.â
I grinded my teeth. âYes. Correct,â I said, spitting the admission out like it was poison.
It was true. Iâd not thought much on the practicalities of what we were hoping to achieve. My only goal had been bringing Mike back. No matter the cost. Or how feasible it would be.
If I was being honest with myself, Iâd thought what I failed to grasp would be handled by someone else. Presumably Patrice given her passing familiarity.
There was something all together smug in how Copernicus looked at me as realisation dawned. I knew then, without a doubt, he would refuse us. After all, why would he support something he knew was destined to fail?
And without him, all my curated plans of playing the saviour evaporated. Like smoke on the wind.
The grief hit me harder than I expected. I staggered under its blow. Tottering on unsteady legs, I stumbled over to the couch and sank into it.
It took everything within my self-control not to immediately bury my head in my hands.
The sound of cards being shuffled drew me from my thoughts. I blinked up at Copernicus seated opposite me, a fresh cup of something hot resting on the table.
How long had I spiralled?
He noticed my attention. âCurious, Mr Brookstone? Iâm only doing this as a favour to Boudicca.â He set the deck on the table. âWere it up to me, Iâd have asked you to leave already. Boudicca, however, is a very stubborn woman. She lives up to the online moniker she adopted. A true warrior.â He smiled up at Patrice who had found a three-legged stool and was seated on it as comfortably as if it were a throne. âNow, if you would, Iâd like you to cut the deck.â
I followed his instructions, still a little dazed. What was the whole point of this exercise? To rub my face in the futility of it all? But when I tried to grasp for anger, I was met with resignation.
Nothing mattered. Why not humour the man?
Copernicus, deaf to the growing roar in my ears, continued to speak as he set three cards before me facedown. Explaining, as he did so, the major and the minor arcana. All of it went over my head.
With Herculean effort, I roused myself as Copernicus began to flip over the cards one by one. When he reached the last one, he had a look of puzzlement to his features. It seemed the reading had gone differently than he expected.
âAnd now we reach the future.â He flipped the card over, revealing a person dressed almost like a jester. The fool, read the bottom. Copernicus looked at the card then back up at me. âUpright, this means taking a leap of faith. Of new beginnings.â
âMaybe the cards are telling you something,â chimed in Patrice. âYou know, I always had a good feeling about Jordie here. And Iâve never been wrong. Not once.â
Copernicus hummed under his breath as he picked up the cards and reshuffled them into the deck. He asked me, again, to cut them before setting three cards face down once more. He flipped them over, revealing the same three from before.
âHow intriguing,â he muttered quietly to himself.
Picking the cards back up, he shuffled and then drew a singular card from the deck. He stared at it for the longest time before leaning his head back and letting out a laugh.
âWhat is it?â asked Patrice, leaning over his shoulder to take a look.
Before he could show her the card, the intercom buzzed. Setting the tarot deck to the side, Copernicus rose to his feet to answer it.
âIâve got a delivery for a Mr Holland?â
âPizza?â
âStraight from the ovens of Papa Johns.â
âFourth floor. Second door to the right. Just leave it there. Tipâs waiting.â He pushed the button below the receiver to buzz the deliveryman through. As he set the receiver back down, he turned to me and Patrice. âAll right. Iâm game. But, Patrice, you must understand there will be quite a few things weâll need to get ready.â
âOf course,â said Patrice. âIâve already my grandniece to look into where to procure silver dust.â
Copernicus nodded. âExcellent. But donât forget weâll also need pure iron if we wish to have any hope of defending ourselves. Can I trust youââ
âConsider it already done,â answered Patrice. âYou do know this isnât my first rodeo. Or so you Americans like to say.â
âBoudicca, please. Iâve seen things neither you nor Mr Brookstone could ever fathom. And it has changed something altogether fundamental within my make up.â A knock came on the door. âThat should be the pizza. Letâs continue this later, yes? After weâve filled our stomachs.â He made to open the door but paused, glancing over his shoulder. âDo the two of you mind, overly much, when it comes to anchovies?â Â
Pokemon is a series close to my heart. From my first playthrough of Pokemon Blue on my Gameboy Color back in the late 90s to the present day. While many fans have diversified their interest inot other fields (apparently robbing stores for trading cards is now the norm?), I have steadfastly kept my interest for the series focused only on video game releases. And while the Switch 2 had not truly piqued for interest (because, let's be honest, only Donkey Kong Bonanza felt like amust-play title at time of release. Here's hoping the new Fire Emblem will be the next big draw to upgrading), I was terrified Pokemon Legends: Z-A might suffer many of the performance issues that had plagued Pokemon Scarlet and Pokemon Violet. In my mind, an upgraded console was jsut the ticket.
So, it was in mid-October when I picked up my pre-ordered bundle at the local EB Games store. But while having a new console in hand did excite me, I still had many titles I needed to finish on the original Switch. It did not help that I had also recently purchased Final Fantasy Tactics: The Ivalice Chronicles. But, despite all the barriers, I had to still set up my new Switch 2. Once that was done, I, of course, had to install the game as well. It was, after all, on a download code, and I could not risk it expiring.
But even though I was ready to play Pokemon Legends: Z-A from the start of its release, I only ever picked it up on-and-off during Christmas and the first month of th year as I was preoccupied with getting other titles out of my backlog to clear some space for new games in 2026. That said, I did peck at it - getting through the early missions with as much gusto as any bright-eyed tourist who gets wrangled into becoming a Pokemon trainer and forced to join the Z-A Royale. During the quiet moments between other games, I tried to catch as many unique Pokemon as I could in the Wild Zones while ensuring my team was sufficiently overlevelled to tackle any problem the game might throw my way.
It was not until my trip to Tasmania that I decided to give Pokemon Legends: Z-A my full attention. Even if it included committing to terrible French accents in the room I shared with my grandma.
Thankfully, I had the foresight not to voice ALL characters with a French accent. In fact, most either had my default Australian accent or a posh Received Pronunciation. Occasionally, I'd throw in my interpretation of a generic American accent.
From a narrative standpoint, Pokemon Legends: Z-A does not truly pick up until Main Mission 9 where you, as the player character, encounter your first Rogue Mega Evolved Pokemon on the streets of Lumoise. It is here that you become an invaluable member of Team MZ as you balance rising up the ranks of the Z-A Royale and calming the poor Pokemon affected by Rogue Mega Evolution (always three). Unfortunately, the formula becomes quite rote as you embroil yourself with the various factors calling Lumiose home (Rust Syndicate, Society of Battle Connoisseurs, Canatics and the Justice League), attend strategy meetings once Vinnie from Quasartico calls with a list of Pokemon at risk of undergoing Rogue Mega Evolution, and going out to stave off any possible danger to the citizens of the city. Along the way, there are a number of side missions to also distract and lend itself to the lore of Pokemon.
While the main story does tackle darker themes of legacy and how the sins of the past can lead to repercussions in the present, most of these are glossed over by the player character's happy-go-lucky attitude. Even when we confront members of Team Flare Nouveau, they soon join our side after unsuccessfully trying to convince us AZ is a terrible villain. That said, I'm surprised we never got the option to refute the 'evidence' they presented. After all, none of it could be proven and there was only one supposed source of information. How do I, as the player character, verify their claims? For all I know they could have RotomGPT their supposed findings on the Ultimate Weapon and Ange.
Still, if there was one thing I enjoyed about the story, it was how everyone came together to try and make Lumiose a better place. Even with the threat of Prism Tower going berserk and wreaking havoc near the end (along with the epic team-up with metamorphing Zygarde).
But playing a Pokemon game has never really been about the story. It's about enjoying oneself in a make-believe world with a range of kooky characters and battling our hearts out.
In this, Pokemon Legends: Z-A did not disappoint. I enjoyed participating in Jacinthe's tournament (and how she managed to infiltrate Team MZ's strategy meetings through hologram. Then there was her own peronalised Jacinthe Zone. Alors, she should have been the ghost type trainer instead of fairy), Corbeau actually being a great big softie even as he ran a yakuza-lite organisation of do-gooders, and the revelation that it is Canari's grandfather who actually has control of the holo live version of the gaming streamer.
There were even a number of Side Missions I enjoyed, including one about a missing child and her Litwick. Nintendo, being as family friendly as they are, surprised me with the jump scares. Then, of course, there was the Side Mission with the workaholic police officer and Shuppet, the empath and her Sylveon...and the movie director who wanted to shoot documentaries about terrifying Pokemon only to find they were actually sweet and adorable instead.
Gameplay-wise, Pokemon Legends: Z-A changes up the usual tried and true formula. While there had been hints of it in earlier titles like Pokemon Legends: Arceus and Pokemon Scarlet and Violet, Pokemon Legends: Z-A is the first time where battles are in real time. What this means is that both you, the player, and Pokemon can move around during the battle and reposition as needed. Theoretically, this allows your Pokemon partners to dodge attacks but I found it was much easier to take a hit or two as I launched a supereffective attack. Given the limitation area for battles and how more often than not your Pokemon partner merely lags behind you as you dash around, means getting out of the hit boxes for certain moves just isn't feasible. Especially when you only start running when they're winding up.
The only times I found it truly useful was for Future Sight, Substitute, Rock Tomb and when other trainers might try to lay a trap (for example, Stealth Rock or Toxic Spikes). Otherwise, in Rogue Mega Evolution battles, it was easier to return my Pokemon to its Pokeball as I tried to evade special moves taking up a majority of the battlefield.
That said, I'll never get tired of being able to peg Pokeballs at unsuspecting Pokeball from the tall grass and watch as they get added to my box.
One of the key changes implemented by Pokemon Legends: Z-A is the removal of PP (Power Points). And this, perhaps, is the strongest argument for the shift to real-time battles. Replaced with cooldowns, you, as the Trainer, are no longer limited to only being able to fire off five Fire Blasts before having to use a restorative item to renew the number of uses. Instead, you can readily have your Pokemon use the same overpowered move again and again without worrying about wasting it.
Pokemon Legends: Z-A also kept a number of key quality-of-life improvements, including accessing boxes from the menu. It also introduced a number of its own, including the ability to freely change moves around when not in battle. This freed me up to experiment with a number of moves. And, given how the Z-A Royale has a number of Bonus Card objectives that limit you to particular status conditions or move types, being able to change my Pokemon's moves allows me to quite easily complete these to earn additional coin and points.
Of course, like every Pokemon game, though, the repetitive gameplay loop did become a little stale by the end. Of note were Mable's Research Tasks to unlock the Shiny Charm, the Side Missions requiring you to use a particular Pokemon (especially as these were only unlocked late to end-game), and the Infinite Z-A Royale (where you had to go through 15 challenges just to wrap up Taunie/ Urbain's story arc and be given the chance to actually catch Zygarde).
While I would have liked to dismiss these as minor quibbles, Pokemon Legends: Z-A doesn't do much to change up the Pokemon formula. Given how rote everything plays out, not to mention the limited nature of Lumiose City, Pokemon Legends: Z-A doesn't quite reach the heights that the best Pokemon games have. In fact, there were many parts that dragged or felt like a chore as I played through, and I would have much preferred if I wasn't forced into running around on minor fetch quests just to progress.
But hey, at least I got to look fabulous while doing so!
On a side note, PLEASE INCLUDE VOICE ACTING FOR POKEMON WIND AND WAVES, GAMEFREAK! Why have cinematic cutscenes that fail to land because you forgot to hire VOICE ACTORS?
Also, if Beast of Reincarnation releases with VOICES ACTING, that's ALL the MORE reason why you need to include it in your POKEMON games.
An oft overlooked gem, Tasmania is often jokingly considered irrelevant to mainland Australians in favour of us taking over New Zealand. Yet with Valentine's Day creeping up on the horizon (as well as the Lunar New Year), my family thought now was an excellent time to pay a visit to the southernmost state for some recreational family bonding.
Travelling with my grandmother (also known an Popo) can be difficult. With limited mobility, it is hard for her to walk. As such, we often bring a foldable wheelchair with us when we go anywhere local. On our trip to Tasmania? We brought it along, wheeling her to the door of the plane. Virgin Australian and Qantas were quite accommodating with our accessibility requests. Popo never had to wait long for our wheelchair to be brought over so she could be slowly wheeled out afterwards. The weight and relatively compact size of the wheelchair also meant we were able to easily pack it into the hired care along with all of our luggage.
It was mid-afternoon when we landed in Launceston. After we briefly stopped at our accommodation in Youngtown, my family set out for Cataract Gorge, which sits just to the west of the city centre.
According to the brochure, Cataract Gorge was created during an earthquake that occurred when Australia broke away from the continent of Gondwana. It is believed volcanic activity dammed the Tamar Valley, leading to the formation of a freshwater lake. This later eroded over the course of 10 million years with the river system carving out a new landscape. Cataract Gorge, itself, only emerged in the last 20,000 years when ice in Tasmania's mountains finally melted.
Though there was still time for us to take the chairlift to the original Cliff Grounds Reserve, my family decided simply to take a simple walk around the Basin and over towards the great Alexandra Suspension Bridge. With Popo in a wheelchair, we weren't entirely certain how it would be brought along with us.
As we slowly made our way around the track, I spotted a peacock craning its head past some rocks. As is my want, I quickly snapped a shot. Further up, a small gathering of people were crowded around an echidna digging for insects to eat. So, of course, I snapped a photo of that as well.
The other fauna I saw included a number of guinea fowl. While I would have liked to have caught one for dinner, my family decided it would be best to try something a little different. After our walk around the basin, we headed to Pachinko located in the city centre - a quaint Japanese restaurant with a slightly limited dinner menu that was, nevertheless, enjoyable.
Friday dawned bright and early for us as we were intent on heading up Cradle Mountain. Initially declared a scenic reserve in 1922, it was later designated a national park in 1947 - a vision borne from Austrian-born Gustav Weindorfer and his wife, Kate. Given that it is also an alpine region, the weather on the mountain can change rapidly and frequently. It is due to this very reason that some people have died while hiking the mountain or have gone missing (as in the case of Belgian woman, Celine Cremer).
From Launceston, we had to first stop by the small town of Sheffield. Yet, while Cradle Mountain was the main draw, Sheffield was also its own marvel with its variety of murals on display near the visitor centre and all across the main street. These were all vibrant, with many exploring intricate themes while others were a tad silly. The ones I liked best seemed to evoke a sense of adventure.
After grabbing a hot chocolate, we hopped back into the car for our way up to Cradle Mountain. At the visitor centre, we purchased a park pass and a shuttle ticket to get up to Dove Lake. Despite the inclimate weather, there were many visitors in attendance. As we waited in line, I heard snippets of Chinese, German and even Spanish!
Once at Dove Lake, we paid a visit to the Boat Shed, which lay on the shore. Given the chill wind, my family then retreated to the shelter of the shuttle stop to have a spot of lunch (and mostly to keep an eye on Popo as the walks around Dove Lake weren't as conducive to wheelchairs as we had hoped) though I decided to take a gander at Glacier Rock.
It was not long before a shuttle came trundling up to the stop and our family hopped on to head back down to the carpark. After much hewing and hawing (my stepfather had wanted to visit Lake Saint Clair - unfortunately, it was another three hour drive around the mountain), we decided to return to Launceston via Devonport (a coastal city where the Spirt of Tasmania calls home).
Whilst I would have preferred staying a little longer at Cradle Mountain (mostly to pay a visit to Waldheim - the chalet built by the Austrians who would declare the mountain a national park), it was not to be.
Along the way to Devonport, we stopped by Waratah - snapping a shot of the waterfall located in the very heart of the town itself. Though the trek down was a little steep, the return journey was even worse. Thankfully, I had on my trust hiking boots.
Devonport, itself, is the third-largest city of Tasmania. Focused more on key sites, we headed to the Mersey Bluff Lighthouse to take photos of the coastline before stopping by the local harbour where a Spirit of Tasmania (along with a Seaport ship) was docked.
While we initially flirted with the idea of grabbing dinner in Devonport, we decided to head back to Launceston instead. There, we tried out Luz Restaurant, which was located in what felt like a refurbished waiting room of an old manor or hotel (with the entrance serving as a fire door). While I was a little puzzled by its presentation, the food was delicious (if a little light in serving size for my stepfather's tastes). Full, my family returned to the car while I vanished down a side street - paying a visit to Scenic Isle Gaming to purchase a pre-release box of Disney Lorcana Cards (Winterspell for those in the know). Which, of course, they did have. And for $30 cheaper than the usual local gaming store I do go to!
There was even a promo card attached to it (which they put in a plastic sleeve which had a picture of Raine from the Owl House. And now I'm wondering if Lorcana will ever adapt the characters FROM the Owl House into actual cards. They've already done the animated Lilo and Stitch and Ducktales. Why not Kim Possible and a slew of other iconic IP from my childhood?
Is my attachment a symptom of my Disney Adult-itis? Possibly. And yet the nostalgia is strong!
AND the next few sets will star PIXAR characters as well! Be still, my beating heart!
Thus ended my family's first two days in the island state just across the Bass Strait. There would, of course, be more adventures ahead for us. After all, we had much more to see and do. And while we would miss a few iconic sights (like the town of GRINDLEWALD), I like to think we got to enjoy a balance of history and nature.
So, while we mainland Australians may joke about Tasmania never being one of us, there's a lot more to it that meets the eye.
Another week, another drip of short story. At time of writing up this post, I've just come back from a short family trip to Tasmania. This does mean, of course, I'll be writing up blogs posts about it. That said, they, much like the ones I did for Melbourne last year, won't be uploaded on a daily basis. Rather, they'll be spread out - interspersed with the occasional story or video game post. As is my wont. Since, you know, this is my blog.
But have no fear, dear reader, for this humble blogger will be exciting everyone's feeds with daily posts for roughly four weeks (possibly five) regarding a planned future trip!
Where I might be travelling to, I'll leave to your imagination though I'm sure the mutuals I have, and the real life friends who read my blog, will know exactly where I'll be jetting off to.
On a side note, I've become truly addicted to Disney Lorcana. Not say, in an unhealthy way, but more in a 'want-to-complete-each-playset' kind of way. And if I stumble upon an Enchanted or Iconic along the way, who could deny me?
As for my next video game post, I'm unsure if I should leap right into Metaphor: ReFantazio or keep up my Pokemon Legends: Z-A playthrough. Most likely, it'll be the latter. After all, I'm already thirty hours in.
Anyways, I hope you the next part to my Veil Between story!
--
A week, it took, for me to heal from my injuries. Even then my ribs were still sore when I pressed on them. But there was no time to sit around. There was a fearsome creature from another dimension trapped in our world. All it would take for disaster to strike would be a group of curious teenagers. Their deaths the news headline for the week.
Then, of course, there was the Mike factor.
Despite our differences and the nonsensical fights in recent months, I still loved him. And there was a part of me who refused to believe he was gone.
I knew he was out there. Waiting.
Finding Madam Xanthe was a lot easier than I anticipated. A quick Google search revealed she had a fortune telling parlour next to a laundromat in a shopping strip on the other side of New Orleans. The reviews were less than favourable. My favourite one described the woman as a quack medium who couldnât even grift properly.
When Patrice and I parked outside, the door was barred. The sign hanging inside read âClosedâ in big bold red letters. We knocked anyway. Or, at least, Patrice did.
She pointed to the sign. When Patrice ignored her, Madam Xanthe unlocked the door. âCanât the two of you read?â She pointed again to the sign. âClosed. Until further noâwait.â She peered closer at Patrice and then me, squinting her eyes. âNo. No, no, no. What are you doing here? I thought it was agreed weâd forget about what happened. Consign it to the past.â
âWell, if it were up to me, Iâd have gone back home but Jordie, here, was adamant.â
Madam Xanthe turned her attention towards me. âSo, what? You want to be flung across a room again, do you? If you didnât notice, I lost my only assistant. And now my business is ruined! Canât a woman have some time to herself without answering to the whims of men who clearly donât have a lick of sense?â
âI didnât think youâd want some monster roaming the streets of New Orleans,â I retorted. âBut clearly, I was wrong.â
Madam Xanthe flinched at my words as if they were physical blows. She seemed to shrink before me. The anger fuelling her before, gone. Like someone had put it out with a bucket of ice cold water.
A placating hand found its way to my shoulder. âJordie, peace. Even if she were an all-powerful medium, she would not have been able to pierce through the barrier surrounding our world and bring forth an eldritch being. Not, at least, without an artefact of some sort.â
I turned to Patrice. âWhat do you mean?â
âThere was something else that day, wasnât there?â Patrice asked Madam Xanthe.
The other woman looked askance, scratching her left elbow with her right hand. âLook, Iâd like to help but Iâm awfully tired.â She made to close the door.
I could see any hopes of rescuing Mike slipping from my fingers. With surprising alacrity, I stuck my foot between it and the frame, wincing at the pain.
âMadam Xantheâ"
âMaria, please,â she corrected. âXanthe is just a pseudonym Magdalene picked for me. Said it sounded more exotic and befitting of someone in my trade. Then she tacked on the âMadamâ for added mystique.â Resignedly, Madam Xanâno, Maria, cracked the door a few inches wider. âYouâre persistent, Iâll give you that. Suppose it wonât be too much of a bother if I give you fives minutes of my time. Any more and Iâll start charging. Deal?â
She led us further inside, past a bead curtain. The table before us was covered in a cheap felt cover. At its centre sat a deck of tarot cards.
Taking a seat at the far end, she motioned Patrice and me to the tacky couch. âWould the two of you like a coffee?â
âWe donât have timeââ
âThank you, that would be lovely. Espresso, please. No sugar.â
I turned to glare at Patrice as she perched on the couch but she paid me no mind as she smiled at Maria.
âWhat are you doing?â I hissed as Maria ducked into another room. âMikeâs still out there and youâreââ
âEnjoying some hospitality,â Patrice replied primly. âJordie, dear, you really need to learn some patience. A few minutes here or there wonât spell the end.â
âThe first 72 hours after a person goes missing are criticalââ
âAnd have already passed,â said Patrice. âListen, I understand where youâre coming from. Heâs your other half. The two of you, combined, make for a decent basketballer player from the 90s, but you canât let your fear dictate your actions. Nor will your snippy attitude help sway Maria to your side.â
Her words gave me pause.
Resisting the urge to knock aside the table, I took in a deep breath and sat down on the couch, burying my head in my hands. Patrice was right (not that I would ever admit it to her).
A week had passed already since Mikeâs disappearance. For all I knew, he could be dead. Torn apart, instantly, by the eldritch realm he had fallen into.
On the other hand, he might still be alive. Surviving through sheer stubbornness.
Mike was Mike, after all. Heâd always been adaptable. Flexible.
It was this hope I clung to.
But giving in to my baser impulses would only delay me further. I needed information and allies. Both of which Maria could provide if I only played it smart.
The clink of chinaware brought me out of my thoughts. Maria had returned with a large tray. She had prepared three chipped mugs, a glass carafe filled with murky brown sludge, a pot of milk and a bowl filled to the brim with sugar cubes. I felt a nudge in my ribs and looked over at Patrice. She nodded to Maria. With a groan, I rose to my feet and helped Maria set the tray down on the table before disseminating the mugs.
Once Patrice and Maria were both nursing a warm beverage between their hands, I decided to push forward with the reason for our visit.
Maria listened attentively enough. She nodded at all the right points and sought clarification when Iâd inevitably spiralled. Yet even I could see my attempts at persuasion were not working.
âI gave it back. To, oh, whatâs her name again? Adelaide?â
âAdeline,â corrected Patrice as she stirred her coffee before finally taking a sip. Her face soured immediately and she replaced the mug back on the tray.
Maria inclined her head. âYes, yes. I remember now. Adeline.â She turned back to me. âAfter everything that happened, it seemed only right. Her family might come from old money but she was still human. Still lost and grieving. Even if her father was a bit of a tyrant, what with his media empire. Near the end, of course, he pivoted to cryptocurrency and artificial intelligence. Things Adeline didnât quite agree with but sheâs not exactly a member of the board, is she?â
âYou know quite a bit,â I said.
âSimple background research,â Maria answered flippantly. âIn my line of work, itâs crucial. Canât have the client thinking youâre some kind of hack. I find it easier to drip feed them aspects of their background. More impressive.â
âWould you happen to know where she might be now?â
âDo you have an address? Maybe a cell number?â I asked.
âMagdalene was the one who did all the admin,â Maria admitted with a grimace. âThat said, I can have a quick look. See what I can dig up on the computer.
For the first time since Iâd woken up, lost and confused on Patriceâs bed, relief spread through me. âThank you. I donât know how I can repay you for all this assistance.â
âEasy,â Maria said, flashing me the first smile Iâd seen her wear. âJust Venmo me. Iâll print you out the invoice now.â
Two households, both alike in dignity. In fair Sicily, where we lay our scene. Yet though Isabella was a Torrisi born, fair Enzo was naught but a corusu working in the mines for the Spadaro family syndicate. Mafia: The Old Country is a game that has you in the shoes of a young man struggling to make his mark on the world. Sold into slavery, all Enzo has known is the mines until one day, when his friend is killed, he stands up against the oppressive Il Merlo before escaping.
Releasing in August 2025, Mafia: The Old Country is a game from developer Hanger 13 and works as a prequel to the Mafia franchise, which were predominantly set in the ficional city of Empire Bay. Mafia: The Old Country scales it all back by placing the players in the Sicilian countryside. And while the scenery is pretty, I found the game lacking - especially by the way it tried to force a lacklustre open-world.
In fact, I would have preferred it if the game had not sought to tack on an open-world aspect to the game and kept it as linear as possible. While a free update brought in 'Free Ride' option to the game, the Valle Dorata never truly came alive due to the lack of any meaningful sidequests or activities. Rather, the open-world portion of the game felt like a huge empty collectathon for pictures, newspapers and saint cards that added little to the overall experience beyond fulfilling the requirements for a trophy. Hardly riveting gameplay though it was enough to sustain my interest as long as I had a video essay going on in the background.
Much like Star Wars Outlaws before it, Mafia: The Old Country is a third-person action game where Enzo hides behind waist-high cover and occasionally pops out to shoot at his enemies with a variety of weapons he can cycle through. The only reason why I might have used a few different guns instead of sticking to my favourites? To unlock a few trophies along the way. Otherwise, most times, I was usually creeping around a map and choking out enemies to ensure I managed to stealthily reach the unskippable cutscene and pop whichever hidden trophy I'd scoped out beforehand.
The only thing Mafia: The Old Country added were intense knife fights. Yet each time these events came about, I was surprised why Enzo or one of his enemies didn't just reach for a handgun they should have been armed with earlier and just shooting.
Were they a fun dance? Most assuredly. Did it make sense in the grand scheme of the plot? Only about half the time.
My other gripes with the game came from the floaty vehicles Enzo drove around. I found, during my playthrough, that I much preferred riding a horse around the rural countryside rather than deal with the finicky cars I was given. The thought of having to stop and refuel also rubbed me the wrong way given the opportunities of earning extra dinari felt limited to replaying chapters and looting them off corpses.
Admittedly, the Free Ride add-on did provide multiple challenges across the map wherein Enzo might earn his keep as a soldato of the Torrisi family, none actually felt fun or contributed much to the narrative being told.
Gameplay woes aside, I did enjoy the story presented in Mafia: The Old Country. From the very start, Enzo engaged me far more than Kay Vess. While the story does lean on particular stereotypes, I did not mind seeing our poor suffering protagonist go from working in a sulfur mine to slowly becoming embroiled in the world of the mafioso. His easy banter with a young Leone Galante, the budding friendship with Cesare Massaro and his romance with Isabella Torissi kept me going.
Then, of course, there was Enzo's relationship with Gianluca Trapani. Underboss of the Torrisi Crime Family, Luca served as a firm but fair mentor to Enzo. It was he who took Enzo under his wing and vouching for him when Enzo finally joins the family. It is his death near the end of the game, after the Torrisi family are ambushed by Don Spadaro and Baron Fontanella at the Galante tuna factory that sets Enzo on his path to break away from the violent world of feuding families.
Unfortunately for our protagonist, there is no happy ending. When Tino, and then Don Torrisi, hears of the affair between Enzo and Isabella, he is apoplectic with rage. In spite of the loyalty Enzo had displayed (as well as the danger he put himself in), he would forever remain a mine boy and unworthy of Isabella's hand. Don Torrisi even rails at the fact he gave Enzo everything. The 'everything' in question being the very same sulfur mine Enzo had escaped from - but not his daughter.
While a part of me felt like this could have been resolved if Enzo had come clean earlier (he had, after all, told Isabella that once he had gained the Don's trust, he would ask for his blessing), the final confrontation between the two also proved that no matter what heights Enzo might have aspired to, he would forever be tarnished by his origins. This was also evident in Enzo's final confrontation with Cesare, who, after being overlooked for a higher position in the family, seemed jealous of Enzo's success (it was, in my opinion, giving Nishiki and Kiryu vibes).
Perhaps, given time, Enzo's supposed betrayal might have stung less. But, come on, the guy was barely surviving everything the plot was trying to do to keep him down. And then you bring him in for a hug and stab him?
Cesare, I thought better of you! Especially when he let you live when he could have so easily killed you earlier!
Which, I suppose, was the point. Mafia: The Old Country is a tragedy much like Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.
That said, I'm surprised no one ever wondered why Enzo chose never to sleep with the courtesans. While I think it might have been funny if some of them might have thought Enzo was gay, the fact none of Enzo's friends cottoned on to him and Isabella just goes to show just how blind the rest of the Torrisi family were when it came to corusu from the Spadaro mines.
At least Isabella got to avenge Enzo by killing Tino. Which, in my humble opinion, was well-deserved. Even if the game resolutely tries to show just how weak and powerless a woman in early 1900s Sicily was. Tino was an old man! Why was Isabella struggling to even bring a knife down on him?
After nine years, Mafia: The Old Country released with little fanfare and proved to be a divisive entry to the franchise. While I enjoyed the tragic tale, with its glimmer of hope at the end, I struggled with the general gameplay and the tacked on open-world which had little to no exciting features except an endless list of collectibles. Worst of all, it failed to include quality-of-life aspects - such as the ability to drop a waypoint or highlight the location of a collectible. Then, of course, there was no way to unlock the locations FOR each and every collectible except to either comb the map from one end to the other OR look up an online guide.
Should there ever be a follow-up to Mafia: The Old Country - whether we see what the future entails for Isabella Torrisi and her unborn child or if the developers decide to go in a completely different direction - I'd like to see them address the core issues tied to their limited gameplay. Especially when the open-world aspect for Mafia: The Old Country felt half-baked at best and completely unnecessary at worst.
On the plus side, I think I've learned several choice Italian/ Sicilian swear words that I might try to employ. 'Figgh'i buttana' anyone?
