I kinda already suspected it but my computer, as it is now, will never be able to run games released after 2020
Can’t run the Boss creator, can’t even run Bugsnax
RIP
Time for an upgrade
I know I don’t even really roleplay on this platform anymore, or at least I haven’t in... a couple of years, now. I just haven’t had the muse for Talon in quite a while, and every now and again I remember old roleplays and become unhappy with how I’d played him. I wasn’t in a good state back then, mentally. Not to mention I was... hardly 20?
It’s been nearly a decade since I started this blog, and a lot can change in ten years. Hobbies, interests, muses, me. I think I’m a lot happier now.
It’s kind of hard to quantify with words. You hurt, work through trauma, change, and grow. It sounds like just about every single story about growing up I’ve ever heard.
I vented a lot through this blog back then, and looking back on it now I can hardly remember some of the incidents unless I reread what I’d written, or really scrape at the bottom of the memory banks. It’s a good diary. I’ve never kept one of those before.
I’m rambling. That’s okay. Getting thoughts out is fine.
I keep thinking I’ll hop back into roleplaying here. Maybe I will. I’ve got unfinished WIPs on my computer, some blog related and many that are not. I’ve still got responses that I owe people that I haven’t gotten back to in years, and sometimes I wonder if they’re still waiting for them, even if they’re absent on my dashboard nowadays. I don’t know.
I still love Saints Row, but it’s not an obsessive focus.
I have hundreds of AUs, and yet playing a Talon that isn’t a Saint wouldn’t feel like him anymore. I feel like he should be a strong and mischievous smiley boy that gets serious when he needs to and isn’t so fucking stupid and sad all the time, but there’s baggage from the stupid crap I did because of my own baggage that would need to be addressed. There’s the matter of his crew and picking back up old plotlines, and the fact I never fleshed out the new universe, and took bits and pieces from games I had a passing interest in... And that’s if there’s continuity.
If it were a complete reboot... He’d basically be a new character. A clean slate.
He would have to be a Saint, or involved with the Saints, to still be Talon, so no matter what, he’s tied to that. “Saint” and “Demon” are big parts of his identity.
I’m heavily leaning towards him not being The Boss. Or at least, not the God-Emperor-For-Life.
Despite being the guy in charge of a huge space empire, The Boss title and everything that comes with it doesn’t feel... free enough for what I want Talon to be. Sure, he could do anything with that power, but also... not really. Not if we want to have a little fun, or go on adventures that weren’t stuffy. There would be lives to consider. And with people fearing for their Boss, their leader, getting killed in action-- it would be stupid not to send someone in with them. Yeah they can handle themselves, but against other Bosses? Nobody wants to take that risk, that one dog fight could end with their Emperor coming home in a box... or not at all. And then that makes clutter, and things get more restrictive, and it’s so tense it becomes boring.
I’ve read enough fiction to realize that too many bad and tense things will grate on the nerves and make someone throw their hands up like “REALLY?” or “where did this plot bunny come from??” and I don’t... want that.
Reboot Talon would still be the Demon Saint, but he wouldn’t be the Boss the crew would hover over. He wouldn’t want to be important, feel lashed to this position because ‘that’s what I have to be.’ He’d be there to have fun and sure, some bad stuff happens every now and then, and maybe pieces of backstory still wouldn’t be happy, but I don’t want to focus and obsess over that stuff like I used to.
Conflict doesn’t have to happen in big, showy barrages of angst. It can be found in the regular and everyday, too.
Maybe he’ll be one of the eyes that wanders Bossville and keeps tabs on what goes on through the rift for the Saints, so the real Boss can do their thing. Strong enough to stand on his own but not important enough that they would need to get him back no matter what if something goes awry.
This turned into a ramble and I’m not sure what to do besides post it. Good luck everybody else.
Change: What was a turning point in your muse’s life?
“It was a moment in the old timeline. The moment Johnny and Troy stormed in to defend me.
“My school had been closed for a few months, at that point, and Father finally snapped out of his drunken haze for long enough to realize that I was still leaving the house. I guess he began catching up on the news and realized that I started running with a gang, and he didn’t like it because I wasn’t under his control while I was there.
“Troy had been keeping a close eye on me and my behavior, back then. Being a cop, of course he would have noticed the bruises and connected the dots. Hell, he was one of the first gang members to actually guess how old I actually was, which was some topic of debate among the higher-ups. Apparently the most common answer was nineteen. Something to do with a subconscious, self-defensive glimmer… But I was a year away from entering high school, so… I was about thirteen. A tall fuckin’ twig for my age, really, but being a supernatural creature helped.
“Anyways. I guess he’d mentioned it to Johnny one day, and the two staked out my house for a few nights… I was lucky they did.
“I was in the bathroom, trying to cover up a new bruise, thinking Father was passed out drunk on the couch. But he was awake. He decided to confront me about the gang involvement.
“No matter what I said, I always just made him angrier. So he started hitting me. I’d had no problems defending myself when I needed to with other gang members, but with him, I just… couldn’t. I froze. I was too scared to fight back, and it just made him angrier. So it escalated.
“He broke one of his bottles of booze on the doorframe when I was reeling against the tub, held me down by the throat, and started gutting me. He was drunk and enraged, so the first two didn’t quite do the job… The third was when Johnny and Troy busted in. They could probably hear my strangled screams from down the block. Father turned to them, and I was so scared he was going to kill them. Even with my guts spilling out, I grabbed hold of his leg and clawed into it to stop him from charging.
“Then Johnny splattered his brain against the wall with a shotgun.
“It was… surreal, at the time. Not only was I bleeding out and going to die, but this oppressive, invincible figure that was always lingering over me had just been killed. I didn’t know what to think.
“See, when I say die, I mean… actually die. Demon children don’t… well, they don’t come back until they reach a certain age. At least, not in my species. They have to be able to comprehend the world around them, and understand what death is. They also have to have a will to live. I lived through Lin’s and I’s drowning because I wanted to help Lin, and when she didn’t make it out of the trunk with me, I wanted revenge. But here? I was uncertain. I was in pain. I was scared. I just wanted it to stop.
“I passed out somewhere between Troy trying to put my guts back in my body and staunch the bleeding, and being piled into the ambulance. When I woke up and heard that I didn’t have to go back to that asshole, that he was dead? That my friends, my Saints, survived, and that I’d always have a place with them? That was…”
He shakes his head.
“I was so relieved, and scared, and happy. I pretty much decided that the Saints were my home, and where I actually wanted to be. They saved my life, they fuckin’ cared. And I wanted to be there for them, too. Not even Child Protective Services could pull me away.”
“Then Julius happened. That’s… a different turning point.”
Falling: What does your muse think about falling in love or commitment?
“I -- I don’t...”
He fails to speak, looking down and away from what he was doing.
“Love is-- hard. Not that it’s hard to feel it or fall into it, it’s just... there are so many things that have happened already, and things that have yet to happen. Every time I fall in love seems to just end in uncertainty, or with the death of all things.
“I want to commit. I want to love so hard that my heart bleeds straight through my chest, I want to be able to wear it all on my sleeve and give them all of me. Let me be theirs and let them be mine. But every time it happens I fuck it up. I hurt them. Everything I try to protect dies. It hurts every time. It will keep hurting. I have too much time and others have too little. It’s... it’s got to be selfish, in a way. I have all this time and I want to take up theirs, too?”
He shakes his head.
“Even if they’re immortal, I don’t... Everything else still stands. I want it. It’s just better for everyone if I keep my distance.”
Talon reminding himself that those close to him can take care of themselves. They don’t need him looming over them, to shadow their footsteps, watching from behind corners for anything that could go wrong. He worries, yes. Always. But the people he’s surrounded by are skilled and capable. They might have rejected his company, but he still worries and watches when they head home alone.
----
The demon’s hands shuffle endlessly. A deck of cards, worn from frequent use.
Not playing. Never playing. Talon does not know how to play.
Worn from card towers, and keeping his hands occupied during the nights when nightmares plague his dreams. When the drug addiction he shamelessly threw himself to gives him the shakes so bad that they keep him up. He’s bound to his Saint’s territory and their watch. He can’t go out heisting, drinking, or shooting up coke in Bossville. He has a life here. So he shuffles quietly. Over and over again. Cards are small and portable, easy to hide in a jacket pocket, and-- unlike a flask of liquor-- they draw very little attention.
He listens for Iris. It won’t be long before the toddler wakes and asks for water. He waits for the morning to come and ship activity to increase. Waits for someone to give him something new to do.
And he shuffles quietly.
----
Immortality via regeneration and unlimited respawning takes its toll; but it’s not just on him.
His crew has to see him get torn apart on occasion. They have to continue on with the mission, make progress like the crimson on the walls and meat chunks on the floor weren’t parts of their Boss five seconds ago. Then, not ten more seconds go by, and their Boss appears, beamed in by the ship after inhabiting an Empty Vessel, and continues the fight.
They’ve seen him go in many ways. Airlock implosion, megabeast mauling, deep freezing before being shattered, liquidation, atomization... He throws himself into danger like he has nothing to live for. His deaths often lead to saving one of their own from such a fate, but at what cost?
It’s hard to see someone you’re close to end up like that. Those who don’t know him that well don’t see the problem. They see it as something that was necessary, no matter how much it would hurt, and strategically, it made sense that the immortal one would be the sacrifice in such situations.
Talon would gladly sacrifice himself if it meant he would save them, but there’s a difference between sacrifice and recklessness. Not seeing the death for what it is leads down a monstrous path that some already find themselves taking.
Who cares about the life of an immortal when it comes to this situation? How about this one? Or this one? Where’s the line between a necessary death and an unnecessary one when it’s the same person, every time, that comes back from the dead? If every one of his deaths counted as a single soldier-- and they kept track of how many empties were used and depleted since their creation-- how many soldiers would be dead doing what he does?
He’s been more careful recently; With a daughter to take care of, the abilities of the Warframes preventing the deaths of Saints, and the recklessness in his surge where the Empty bodies were stored, he doesn’t just throw everything into the pot anymore.
Where does the crew draw the line? Those present might watch dispassionately, becoming numb to the gruesome mess before them. He’ll be back in a minute, They might think, but then he doesn’t come back at all.
And they never even retrieved the body.
And burying an Empty Vessel isn’t the same.
It seems the more immortal a person is, the less worth their lives have. The less meaning their deaths have.
To keep themselves out of this way of thinking, everyone who is deployed with Talon on a mission most likely will require therapy. It doesn’t help that Talon himself internalizes these thoughts and shies away from therapy at the same time.
I. THE FAIRY . chipped nail polish . glitter highlight . tall trees with smooth bark . tangled hair . the taste of cinnamon sugar . talking too loud and too fast . overgrown flowers in your hair . crumbling buildings reclaimed by nature . flirting . walking home at 3am with no coat . platonic hand-holding . blowing smoke out of your nose . dragonfly wings . chaotic good . freckles . fairy rings . secret meetings . gender nonconformity . leather . smudged eyeliner . forbidden fruit .
II. THE REAPER . computer errors . a shiver down your spine . haunting beauty . hard liquor . crowns of thorns . shadowed alleyways . decaying plant matter . shattered mirrors and broken glass . corrupted memories . stopped clocks . the scent of stale cigarettes . tattered black hoodies . walking your friends home . the crescent moon . the sea . a graveyard on a foggy day . cold rings on cold fingers . absolution . looking out the window of an airplane . soft kisses .
III. THE WITCH . graffiti . pretending to know what you’re doing . worn paperback books . growing up too fast . parsley , sage , rosemary , and thyme . lace and combat boots . moth wings . candles on every surface . a weathered deck of cards . turning the music up . fireflies in jars . calloused fingers . drawing on your skin . sunlight filtering through clouds . petrichor . a dying rose in a jar . wearing a crystal pendant . illusions and spells . black cats . mint gum . chapped lips . dirt under your fingernails . the cycle of life and death .
IV. THE WOLF . murders of crows . frost-bitten leaves . wolves howling at midnight . knocking on your door . leaving food out for stray animals . the twang of an acoustic guitar . honey . tiny red buds on trees . claw marks on the walls . golden eyes . slightly too long stubble . sharp canines . soft, thick fur . hunger . a small cottage in the middle of the woods . knitted fingerless gloves . sleeping on the forest floor . always finding your way back home .
TAGGED BY: @bosselimitchell
TAGGING : @deathandsaints and... Anyone who wants to do this, I’m arse at tagging :’D
Okay, this is eerily like Tal’s experiences with his old timeline and the body he left behind-- the same one that keeps rising from its coffin in the present timeline. I know it’s coincidence but wtf
Lyrics:
I’ve heard the devil speak
Speak through a man
And I found them listening
I’ve seen the holy take
Take to a fool
And I’ve seen them following
Long enough to know
I fall
Somewhere outside it all
Let me recuse myself
Lose myself
Excuse myself from your world
I’ve felt the weight of death
I’ve held the hand
And I’ve tread a fading line
I’m not afraid to go
And still I am
I’ve sung the battle cry
Long enough to know…
I never saw myself inside your shadow
But now I dig to pull myself out of your grave
I don’t know where I stand
I just can’t meet your demands
Time to find my way out
Idk why I’m listening to and sharing so many Demon Hunter songs.
Maybe it’s the lyrics reminding me of old events.
Lyrcs:
Now the soil takes your breath
Nothing left
Just bones and empty roads
And a want for something more
Open door
But careful not to ask
And holding fast
Now sorrow burns around you
Anger, fear and death surround you
So afraid
Helpless
Where is the void you're after?
Emptiness, the final chapter
So afraid
Helpless hope
To the hollow hands of fate
No escape
No panic, no reprieve
And the faith it was too blind
Too unkind
But faithful in the wholeness of
