SOS CQ DE 40.4166N; 3.7038W? = TRAPPED IN ALTERNATE REALITY FOR 2 YR APPROX SFR; AM CHESPIN SEND HELP
Let me elaborate.
I presumed, for a good while, that my name was Alger.
The conditions on Zero Isle, and indeed most of the ocean, have worsened such that spacetime is strangling itself. I suppose it won't be long before the whole island is one colossal Mystery Dungeon and Magnagate latitude compressors cease to function. But before and therein lies a brief window of opportunity:
The small scraps of internet that leak through to this world from the one where I previously lived. Just enough for, say, an empty Rotom Phone from another world to send and view messages.
One of the first things I tried was to look up what little I remembered about myself, and discovered that I'd inadvertently stolen the name of a fictional rodent. But while my old identity is still lost to me, I have thankfully had two years to process that reality and friends to help me do so.
(Pictured: Leland, an Oshawott (♀) who I am half-convinced was randomly generated and unleashed upon the world like Mr. Bean descending from the heavens, and myself. Not Pictured: Auburn, the long-suffering Pikachu (♂) who figured out how to work the phone camera.)
There exists an alternate universe inhabited only by Pokémon, with an Earth quite like yours. Approximately 43% of its surface no longer exists.
It's difficult to describe — or even measure — something whose fundamental property is the degradation of properties: physical, epistemological, temporal. That, ultimately, is what is referred to as the Mystery Dungeon phenomena. Affected areas break down and warp in a process akin to AI image generation losing the plot and dissolving into incoherence. The simularities are uncanny.
I don't know why I'm here or why I'm not human anymore — assuming there's a reason to begin with — and to be frank I am very much freaking the fuck out about pretty much everything (also apparently this is a problem others have dealt with? wtf?). This blog/log/slog is primarily to call attention to the fact that, yes, "Fallers" (stupid name) are not just delusional. and the world they've fallen to is unraveling before my eyes. Also to figuring out who the hell I am would be nice i guess.
Ask me anything!
UPDATE: INTRODUCTION ACT 2
Until I can get a hold of a more consistent internet connection, expect transmissions of wildly fluxuating quality. There will be a lot of BARE-BONES MORSE CODE TRANSCRIPTIONS since that's the only thing that can fit through edgewise most of the time, interspersed with longer posts that I shall publish when the opportunity (and bandwidth) arises.
