So you’ve maybe been wondering what the deal has been with All Wounds as a visual novel. Truth be told, I needed a break from it. I wanted to work on other things (mainly Arcadian Rhythms while I was waiting and working to move in with Jenny), and I was honestly burned out from Life is Strange after the disappointing and salt-inducing Before the Storm. And then Life is Strange 2, while being good in its own right, and certainly a more ambitious game than the original, ultimately just didn’t grab me emotionally the way I had expected it to going into it.
With LiS2 officially over, and 2019 on the way out, I thought now might be a good time to finally try to pick back up the mantle of the visual novel -- because despite my aversion and my muddled feelings about the LiS brand, I am still passionate about my original vision of the VN, it’s just way more time consuming to work on than it initially seemed.
In the summer of 2018 I put in a lot of time adapting the written prose of All Wounds into code format for the visual novel. Hours and hours were spent converting the text to code, and I’m sure just me working on it leaves some bugs.
I’ve gone back this autumn and tried to continue work on Chapter 3, but it’s been rough, especially when I’m trying to incorporate new daily habits in -- writing has been basically non existent for months, sadly, despite things I want to catch up on.
The fact of the matter is that All Wounds is such a big story that adapting the whole thing to visual novel format while still working in my original vision of alternate dialogue, scenes, etc. is just very tricky, and I don’t even have assets to work with for a lot of it.
I figured it’d be worth asking, then:
Does anyone want to help make it?
Mainly I could use bug-testers, people who can help me sort out where the VN breaks and provide feedback on the choice-based stuff.
But someone who actually knows how to work with python/Renpy and could help with coding would be a great help.
I could also use someone who is interested in scoping out royalty free sound effects and the like to add more ambience to various scenes/moments, someone who can help look up creative commons photos that can be modified to work as backgrounds, etc.
I haven’t put out a new release of the VN in a very long time because despite how much more code has been added to it, nothing past Chapter 2 is presentable, it’s pretty much all just text past that atm.
Anyway, I’m not expecting much from this, and for all I know, the desire and interest on this project as waned by now -- but part of me just can’t let it go, I just need to swing back into momentum on it, I suppose, which I am hoping to do going into next year.
Regardless of what the future may hold, I’m still pretty satisfied overall with the story I was able to tell in prose, what I was able to make in visual novel format at all in the first place, the people I’ve connected with because of this project.
@mollifiable is gonna be here, in person, at my house, by the day’s end. First I have to suffer through another dumb Monday at work.
Since it’s highly unlikely I’m going to get any writing done during that time (not enough to finish the chapter, I suspect), I figured I’d share a portion from partway through the chapter. Bear in mind, this is technically one extended scene, and it’s not actually done -- and there’s a chance it could be edited a bit more before posting.
BUT, if you want a peek at what the next chapter is going to be about, have at it.
–
A tornado of pain tossed Max around. It hurt so much that her vision burned white. Then the brownish red started pooling at the edges of her vision, like usual.
As Max regained her bearings, she realized she was leaning against a cold metal wall. Its surface was scratched to hell and covered with. . .grafitti. Max couldn’t make left or right of it, though, because her vision was blurred to crap.
Where the fuck was she this time?
When was she?
Max was sitting on a toilet. In a public stall. Her pants were down. Her abdomen ached. The bowl beneath her was a nice little soup of menstrual leftovers. Yum. But Max’s period wasn’t supposed to happen for another couple weeks.
A toilet flushed nearby, sending Max’s heart for a loop as her rubbery arms tried to push her body upright. A shot of pain cracked through Max’s mind, and she clutched her temple in agony, paralyzed as the ache rushed over her.
And then Max noticed that her hair was. . .gone?
Max felt her heart skip. Fuck.
Her head was totally buzzcut. What the actual hell?
And hold the frick up, here: Max’s shoes. Max’s shoes were unrecognizable.
Chucks – Max had been wearing friggin’ Chucks just moments before, but these…?
The hell were these atrocities-. . .?! Wait, heels? Why the hell was she in heels?!
And her pants, they were, like, fucking white dress pants, Max didn’t-. . .!
And why was she on her period already?!
So it was definitely some different reality, then. Goddamit.
RINGS.
She wasn't wearing her rings.
No, no, no.
No no no nonononono-
Chloe.
Chloe Chloe Chloe Chloe no no no no no
Fuckingno whywhatdidshe howdid whydidthis
Not Chloe. She couldn’t not have Chloe. At all. Not again. Not after their last talk.
OK. All right. Calm down.
In another reality. Remember. You can get back.
But…
What if she couldn’t get back this time? Would that Other her just...take over? Was that the endgame, here? Why the hell would she want control?
She had to calm down again before she lost herself in questions.
Max scrambled to clean herself up. And by the way, why did she have a purse? Like, a fucking purse purse. Didn’t even make. . .-
Argh. Whatever. Fucking. . .tampons, where-?
There. Got it.
After plugging up the leaking ship, Max swiftly finished up her business in the stall. She felt weak. She felt, just, like. . .lighter than usual. Her movements were wobbly, each step uncertain.
Exiting the stall forced her to realize that whatever reality she was in, it was...parallel to the one she was used to. She wasn't a teenager here.
In the bathroom mirror, there she was – head shaved nearly bald, a stitch on her forehead, the remnants of a black eye recovering. . .and to contrast these rough details, she was dressed in some frilled black blouse and white khakis. A purse and high-heels on top of it. Gross.
Why was she dressed like this? Why did it look like she’d been in a fight recently?
Where the hell was she? What was different about this reality, and how the fuck could she get back to where she’d come from?
At least her memory wasn't as fuzzy as it usually was when this crap happened. Was she getting better at maintaining her memories? Getting used to reality-hopping, maybe?
The bathroom door swung open, and Max fumbled with herself as she tried to apply soap to her hands and wash up. Nearly tripping on her damn heels again, she awkwardly wobbled her way out of the bathroom.
She had to track down Stella Hill. That was her way back, right? Stella would help calm her down, help her focus on her memories with Chloe in a way that let her Rewind back to her own reality...
Maybe...she could call Stella? Say it was an emergency?
After drying her hands on the obnoxiously loud air dryer, Max scrounged through her purse in a panic.
No cell phone.
What. The hell.
Was this Max someone who was against using technology or some bullcrap? She'd fancied now and then the idea of living a humbler life and all that – going vegetarian could be just the start of a green life style – but no way, she'd never have the guts to go through with it.
Well, did she have a car, at least?
More shuffling through her purse – and quite a paltry one, at that – and Max confirmed that no, she did not have keys. At all. Not even a house key? What…?
Her teeth grit with fear, Max decided her best bet was to just exit this bathroom, see what she'd gotten herself into...Hopefully someone she knew was here, right? She wouldn't be in some public restroom without a phone, without a car, all by herself, would she?
Max carefully, slowly left the bathroom, each step a small struggle.
Her time-sickness should’ve…worn off by now. But then again, maybe this frequency of reality warping was having its after effects. Or…maybe this version of Max had gotten plastered the night before?
A pang of ache hit her in the temples, and she burped a little through her nose.
Blegh. Certainly felt like a hangover, anyway…
Max, wobbling with each tiny step, found herself a bit disoriented in the rush of Starbucks she emerged into. Where was she? She didn’t recognize this store. For all she knew, this Max Caulfield was in a different part of the country altogether…
No phone. No car. No keys.
No idea of where the hell she was.
But at least her memory could retain two things from her home reality: Chloe Price, and Stella Hill.
Chloe was the reason she needed to find her way back home.
Stella was the key to helping her get there.
The wind in her sails, and the anchor to land.
With any luck, Stella would be in that shop somewhere for her. But Max wasn’t finding her anywhere…Shit.
“MAXINE?”
Max’s heart felt like it would leap from her chest at the sound of her name being shouted through the claustrophia-inducing swell of the busy shop.
She flicked her head on instinct in the direction of the voice – a stranger. Some barista setting down a cup of coffee with her name on it. Max was petrified of it at first.
Frozen in place.
Some strange place.
Frozen in time.
Some other time.
And then, something unexpected happened.
Someone else showed up at the counter and delicately picked up the coffee cup.
Someone Max didn’t recognize.
She was wearing a tacky, patterned blouse: beige with autumnal leaves falling across it. An off-white dress and dark, shiny little shoes, thin gold loops for earrings…A layer of lip gloss over top lipstick that was barely noticeable in color with hints of some blush on her softened, pale cheeks. Her eyelashes were thickened with product, and her brows were neatly plucked. And those eyes-…
They noticed Max.
And she smiled a meek little smile, and with her head shrunken into her neck, she bashfully brought Max her coffee.
“Hey,” she greeted warmly, yet awkwardly. “I…thought you were still in the restroom…”
Those eyes were so close. It felt like staring up at a gray blue sky just before a rainstorm.
Rainstorm.
Definitely rain. Definitely a gray, clouded sky…
Why was Max’s brain going there off of this woman’s face?
“Here, Maxine,” she said, extending her arm and offering the cup of coffee.
Max gawked at the steam gently trickling up from the cup. At the rosy-edged, thin fingers holding it.
“You all right?” she asked Max with a worried curve to her eyebrows.
Max felt her head get light, her chest go hollow. She took the coffee cup, her fingers gripped against it a little too tightly. Her hands were uncomfortably hot, and breathing was suddenly very difficult.
Max couldn’t pry her eyes away from the woman’s face, whom she now recognized. She probably looked like a lunatic, just gawking and trembling, wordless.
“H-here,” gestured the woman, easing Max with a soft and delicate touch on the shoulder. “Let’s…sit you down.”
“Th-thanks,” Max uttered out, still staring at the woman’s features as they swerved their way around some customers toward a well lit window-side table. Max was having difficulty believing who she was with. Her mind’s eye had replayed those final moments over and over, so many times over the years…
When they reached the table, Max nearly tripped over her heels again. The woman guiding her caught her, and daintily set Max’s cup on the table before. Max was once again enraptured, motionless – this time by the way the midday sun trickled through the gleaming windows, casting the coffee steam in its glow.
“You, um…-” The woman laughed through her nose as she took her seat across from Max. “You didn’t have to dress up. I know it’s…been a while since you’ve worn things like that. Are you comfortable?”
Max caught herself staring again.
“Oh, yughh…-“ Max took a deep breath, wiping her palm across her forehead. “Yea, I…wanted to look nice, I-…I guess.” From her current angle, elevated above her coffee mate, her eyes were drawn to the woman’s neck, and the thin gold chain that dangled down into her blouse.
Max figured she knew what object hung at the end of the chain. But her brain – already stewing in a mess as it was – was finding it baffling to comprehend who she was sitting in front of.
“Well,” the woman before her laughed softly, lifting her wrist to her lip and shaking her head slightly. “I appreciate the effort, at least. It has been a while since we’ve been able to meet up like this. What…five years, I think?”
Max nodded and shrugged, her throat caught as she was baffled at the coincidental timing. Like she had any clue how things had gone down in this reality.
Given how these things worked, it had to be more than coincidence, though…
Max cleared her throat, avoided those rainy sky eyes, and fussed her hands between her thighs, fidgeting like mad.
“I...-” Max pushed the words out, her eyes on the verge of leaking. “I've missed you, Kate.”
“I've missed you, too, Maxine.”
“Um...-” Max took a moment to absorb those cloudy-day eyes, the worried tilt to Kate's brows, the concern oozing from every pore. Clearing her throat, Max eked out, “Wh-...Why did you want to meet me?”
Shakily taking a sip of her coffee – fretful to burn her tongue – Max's eyes were glued to Kate.
“Oh,” Kate uttered meekly, then shrugged. “You asked me to, Maxine.”
Max swallowed her hot coffee, her eyes awkwardly shifting away from Kate's dubious look.
“I've...heard you've been having trouble...remembering things,” Kate cautiously cited. She didn't seem too keen on her own drink. “Did you, uhm...forget what you wanted to talk with me about today?”
Max was at least relieved she didn't need to pretend. Although...did that mean the...her...in this reality was dealing with...similar things she was in her own neck of the temporal woods? Or were Maxes in different realities just...getting screwed over somehow? Was it her fault? Was she doing this, somehow?
After considering this, Max shrugged up one shoulder, stalling for more...time...as she took another sip of coffee.
“It's OK,” Kate assured with a pitying smile. “No one can understand what you've been through, but...I can still try to.”
It was hella awkward, being on the opposite end of this, when all of Max's memories of Kate were...so damned pervasive in their tone – pitying Kate Marsh. Now Max was the one being pitied. She hated it.
And that Other voice wasn't there to make any comments, so she knew that hate was...100% original.
“Maxine,” said Kate, pulling things back on track. She extended a hand across the table, inviting Max's palm to connect to hers. Max hesitated, then obliged. Kate's hand was cold but soft. “I need you to...try to remember.” Max found herself lost in cloudy skies again. “What you said to me on the phone the other day. When they were getting ready to let you out.”
“...Out?” Max murmured.
Out of...where?
Rags. Bars. Isolation.
Max's brain ached as she struggled to recall this Max's memories.
Her head throbbing a bit, Max clutched her skull – reminding herself of her shaved head.
Had this Max...been in jail?
For what? What in the hell could Maxine Caulfield have done to...-?
And there were raindrops of pity again in those gray skies.
“I, um...-” Max fumbled, trying to keep herself collected. She wiped her nose, noticing a small trace of blood that she wiped on a napkin as casually as she could. “Y-yea, it-...It's good to be out. Finally.”
Lying lying lying
“...Is it?” Kate posed, confused. “The...way you said it on the phone, you seemed...scared of leaving the facility.”
Max was wide-eyed and slack-jawed for a moment, scrambling to come up with an answer.
“It's-...I-I mean, I'm better now.” She went to tuck hair behind her ear, only to realize there was none to nervously fiddle with. “It's OK.”
Lying lying lying
“You're...sure?” Kate checked, narrow-eyed as she squeezed Max's hand, still within her own. “Because...you really gave me a scare, there. I mean...-” Kate glanced across the cafe, then leaned in, whispered, “Max, you sounded ready to kill yourself when we last talked. Do you...recall?”
Max's chest suddenly felt tight.
“I...-”
lie lie lie some more
go ahead
Kate interjected with concern, “You told me, just the other day, you were...going to do it. You sounded serious...I-...I argued with you for ten minutes until I convinced you to meet me.”
“That's...why we're here?” Max mumbled, aghast.
What in the hell had gone wrong in this fucking reality?
“Max, you...took someone's life, that...-” Kate's hand was starting to tremble, but...Max squeezed it in place. “I mean, that's...not something that's going to ever go away, but it's doesn't mean you need to take your own. I don't...at all support what you did, Max – but I understand why you did it. More than you know. Your friend was suffering, and...she wanted relief from that pain. It's tempting to leave this life, seeking the next, but...none of us should leave before our time.”
“Nn-...! No, I'm...-” Breathing was starting to become difficult. “I don't...want that, I'm just...glad you're here, I feel so...lost, I...-” Max buried her face in her bare arms as a shiver went up her spine. She maintained her grip on Kate's hand, but her face started to leak tears onto the table.
“It's all right,” Kate cooed, planting her head against the bristled edges of Max's shaved head.
Max was clawing through this brain she was inhabiting. Locked door after locked door, it felt like.
But down a dark corridor of this mind, one door was familiar. She peeked inside, and sure enough...something familiar.
“I want this time with you...to be my last memory...Do you understand?”
Maxine Caulfield had euthanized Chloe Price.
And then she'd run away from this reality, back to her own.
In and out, completely fucking everything up.
But it hadn't all magically disappeared, or undone itself, had it?
And now Max's heart was starting to race as she found herself wondering:
What about every other timeline? What about the rest of the...herselves?
What about all the Maxes she'd...jumped into the driver's seat for? Only to crank up the gas, open the door, and jump out...leaving them in the passenger seat as the car got totaled off the side of the road, while she tucked-and-rolled back to her 'better' reality?
it hurts
A voice? Her own voice? Again?
Not hers, at the same time.
please
take me with you
What?
don't
leave me again
I didn't...know I was...-
again
again
can't
Why...-?
Where have you...-?
hurts
can't
whole
“Maxine?”
The black fog cleared. The voice from Another Max faded back to the bottom of Max's consciousness.
The white fog filled the empty spaces. The voice of Kate Marsh faded back to the front.
“I know it might not seem like it right now, but...everything is going to work out. OK?”
Max sniffled, sucking in snot back into her throat and groaning a tired groan as she opened her eyes.
Readjusting to the sights and sounds of the cafe – an atmosphere she'd grown to detest from her dayjob – Max could not see how 'everything was going to work out.'
“Yea,” Max whimpered through her recovering sniffles, reaching for a napkin. She blew her nose. “I know,” she lied. “It'll all work out...somehow.”
“Right.” Kate nodded her timid, supportive nod.
“It's...been one thing after another,” Max groggily explained, reaching for another napkin to wipe at her nose. “Just...have to keep...going.”
going??
we're going???
please!!
N-no, I'm not...-
can't stay
here
I'm sorry, I don't...-
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds; because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.”
Huh? Was Kate, like...quoting the Bible at her now?
Bleh. That was...kind of the last thing Max needed right then.
“Kate...” Max sighed, her lips fluttering grumpily as she felt a pang of pain wash against the inside of her skull.
“Max, I know you don't...share the same beliefs I do. We never got along back in school – you were always with the Vortex kids...but I always saw good in you. Somehow, I knew it – in my gut, in my heart – that someday you'd need my help. And I always had faith you'd ask me when you needed it.”
Max wasn't sure where this was coming from. She wasn't a fan of that pity rearing itself around again.
“But Maxine, you need to have faith in yourself. Faith that your life has meaning.”
Max shrugged half-heartedly.
“Sorry, Kate. I'm not...so sure I believe in that sort of thing anymore...”
Kate bit her lip thoughtfully, her eyes darting to one side as she considered a thought.
“Maxine, I don't think it's a coincidence that you came to me with this.”
“With...what?”
“With your...-” Kate's eyes hit Max's with a solemn darkness. “-...intentions.”
“Oh.” Max's throat felt dry.
“I haven't...talked with anyone about this in years, but...I know what you're going through.”
Kate's hand finally let go of her own.
And she slipped away.
Off that roof.
Disappearing into the cloudy, rainy, gray sky.
The concrete roof against Max's feet melted beneath the Storm.
The wind and rain pelted against her, knocking her over.
She fell through the ceiling.
She fell into static.
She fell through herself again.
Max struggled to open her eyes. Her head was wracked with pain, every beat of her heart stinging at her skull. Her body felt like lead, and her neck didn't seem able to support the weight of her head. Her hands trembled, her arms wavered as she fought to push herself up from the cold wooden floor.
By the time Max had finally gotten her head leveled, she began to...recognize certain things. She was in some kind of apartment. It felt familiar, and yet she knew she'd never been there before. Another trick of her mind? Another blending of her own memories with...-
Fuck.
She wasn't back home, this was...some place else? Damnit.
Tiredly, Max checked her hands for what she knew she wouldn't find: no rings.
Wait.
RING??
Why was there a ring?! On her FINGER.
NOT HER RING.
WHOSE
WHAT
WHY
She had a diamond ring. Fucking diamond ring on her finger! What the hell?!
That wasn't Chloe's ring.
Her vision was blurred, bubbling red at the edges. She could feel blood trickling down her lips.
Same shit, different reality...Urgh.
Max lifted her hand to press against her agonized temple. Her stomach felt queasy, the pulses of pain washing over her head were nauseating. As Max grasped at her skull in desperation, she
Through her pain, Max dug her fingertips into her scalp, trying to figure it out as a sinking feeling came over her. Her hair was short. Pixie short.
So...longer than it had just been. But not nearly as long as it was supposed to be.
God damnit.
Max pushed herself up onto her hip. Jesus, trying to stand up felt way too hard right then. This was more than time-sickness, this was...a fucking hangover. Like, still-drunk-the-next-morning levels of hangover.
“Still recovering from your little bender last night, Darling?”
Max's chest burst into flames at the startling sound of Victoria's voice – then froze over.
“Vuh...-?” she choked out, coughing on her own spit.
“Jesus,” Victoria sighed, kneeling down over Max and dabbing at her face with a rag. “Max, I told you not to overdo it. Now look at you.” Max let Victoria's cold, smooth fingers run circles around her face, cleaning her cheeks, straightening her hair. “You're going to look awful for the showcase tonight. You know, you can't expect me to keep cleaning your messes. You're supposed to be a professional now. Maybe it's time to start acting like it?”
Victoria spit-shined Max's face a bit, which Max...didn't...mind?
She felt guilty for not minding.
But the way Victoria fixed her palms against Max's temples – the way her typically cold, sharp eyes stared with a softness that enveloped Max's mind...-
Max found herself realizing where the diamond ring had come from.
“Helloooo? Earth to Max? Are you even listening?” A sigh.
The same kind of sigh Chloe – her Chloe, from her reality – had been sighing lately.
“I-I am,” Max mumbled, her half-asleep arm wobbling its way to her lips as she thumbed away her own saliva. “Sorry, I'm...having a rough...week.”
“Fffyeah, no shit.”
Victoria's hands, still against the sides of Max's head, slowly, firmly wiped themselves back, against the base of Max's skull. It was soothing in the face of the persistent headache she was experiencing.
“Whoever that guy was – whatever he gave you? Promise me you're never going to take shit like that again.”
“...Huh?” Max was confused.
Victoria's eyes rolled a bit at Max's reaction. She shook her head a bit.
“Don't...fucking play dumb with me, Caulfield,” she grumbled, letting go of Max's skull. “I know you met with that grimy cretin again yesterday, and I know you bought something from him. You could've at least asked me before taking the money for it. I understand you're going through a lot lately, and I'm sorry the therapy's not helping. I swear, once we get this showcase out of the way, we will find you a better therapist. My parents know someone in Portland who specializes in...cases like yours. We'll...-”
Victoria trailed off at the way Max was staring at her, wide-eyed and jaw agape.
When max was self-aware, she nodded, rubbed at her eyes, and swallowed nervously.
“O-Of course, yea. I'm-...W-We'll work it out, I'm...sorry, I'm...a fucking mess, I...-”
Max's chest tightened as Victoria's lips pressed against her forehead.
“Yes, well, you're my mess, Max,” Victoria said with a weird...warmth. She scooped up the rag she'd just been using to clean Max's face and got up from the floor. “I signed up for this when I gave that ring to you, didn't I? I simply wish that perhaps you'd, I don't know, given me some fair warning that you had...issues such as these. N-not to say I can't handle them, of course – obviously, I can – simply that...I might've prepared myself better for them.” She'd gone off into some other room, and was elevating her voice to echo across the apartment. Max just...continued to sit on the floor. “It's not easy, you know, putting my own creative endeavors on hold to help yours along. I hope you realize I would never simply bend over like this for anyone, Caulfield. Much as I hate to admit it, you're special, your work is special, it warrants eyes and attention, and I am committed to that, but...-” She returned to the living room, noting Max's form still slumped on the floor. “-...you need to start pulling yourself together. I can't fix all of these problems for you, Darling.”
Victoria's concerned rambling was...bizarre. That usual bite, that usual sting, that usual...iciness...it was missing. Even the remarks that would normally be, like, scathing from her, it was more like...facetious teasing.
It was like a whole different...Victoria.
OK, well, obviously. This was...some other reality.
But this Victoria seemed, like...less grouchy? Than usual? Wasn't that part of who Victoria Chase was? Never happy?
And yet, as Victoria was scolding Max – knees bent over precariously balanced toes, hands criss-crossed over bent knees, eyes somber and forlorn – there was a sort of...glimmer to her. A drive, of sorts. It reminded her of that ember-eyed look when the Victoria she knew – from her reality – would talk with or about...Nathan Prescott.
And there was a strange glow to that seemingly melancholic state.
“Come,” Victoria said, reaching out an arm, standing back upright. “Up.” She gestured her fingertips inward. “We have two hours before we have to be at the gallery. If anyone makes any remarks on your...being out-of-sorts, we can simply...remind them how painful this whole ordeal has been. It wasn't easy going back through those photos, I'm sure the attendees will cut you some slack. But I'll not have us going to the gallery looking like hookers, so...time to clean up.”
“Gallery? Att-...Attendees?” Max murmured, dizzy as her body was lifted onto its feet. She caught herself and spit out, “O-Oh, right, yea, that's...today...”
As if she had any fucking clue what was going on.
“Yes, that is today,” Victoria sighed, sifting at her bangs as she eased Max down the hallway she'd just reemerged from. “Why do you think I was on your case last night? And did you listen? Nooooo, but...I suppose that's why I'm here. Every rock star needs its manager to help clean up after them...”
“I-I'm no rock star,” Max protested in her half-assed mumbling, being shooed along.
They reached a bathroom. An immaculately clean and fashionable bathroom.
“Not with an attitude like that, you're not,” Victoria grumbled with a sort of confusion. “I'll get your clothes – you shower. Sober up. Whatever's wrong with you? It's time to get over it. We can't afford to fuck this one up, Darling.”
Shannon was able to finish up work on a lot of assets for Chapter 3, so I figured I’d share a bit of that since things have been quiet lately. Since the perspective changes each chapter, I want the character’s positions to change, too, which adds extra work for spriting -- not to mention that every two chapters in the first half of the story show a change of outfits, which itself means another set of sprites. (Basically, every chapter in this story, for the most part, needs new sprites made in order to keep the characters feeling like they’re changing)
Work has been incredibly stressful lately, and I’ve been needing time to recuperate with my addictions to Horizon: Zero Dawn and Breath of the Wild (after having totally gobbled up Night in the Woods, which I specifically recommend to LiS fans), so, apologies that things have been slow, but they’re still coming.
It’s...a departure from every other chapter so far, and might be a little hard to follow, but hopefully by the end, you’ll have an idea of what I was going for -- and an idea of the implications this has on the last legs of the story.
13. What If - FF.net | dA | AO3
I wanted to take a moment to give a special thank you to those who sent some help my way over the past month or so. Your support has helped alleviate some of the stress I’ve been dealing with, and it’ll end up feeding back into paying artists on the visual novel.
That was an absolute mindscrew and I loved it. Max's powers are getting so out of control... It's kind of terrifying, I love what you're doing with this fic so much. I am curious about one line, too.
"“Welcome to my fucking world, ladies,” said Max.
“And...gents,” the Other Chloe grumbled.
"What?” Max snipped, baffled.
“Nevermind,” Chloe huffed, tossing out her arms and approaching Max."
Is this a small hint that other-Chloe is transgender? Not to impose anything on your story, but when I first read that, that's what I thought.
Regardless, fantastic chapter and I can't wait for more.
Yea, last chapter was meant to be kind of an "Oh, shit...what?" kind of thing.
This chapter is more like..."Oh, dude. Dafuq? Where is this going to lead?" as I fiddle around with my own take on a time-space story gone wrong.
Ha, it's funny. There's so many weird and somewhat ominous intertextual references in the past two chapters which no one comments on or seems to notice...and you notice that interesting little tidbit I snuck it. xD
Actually, yea, the implication is that the Other Chloe (or in a sense, a part of Chloe) is gender fluid, a concept directly taken from Ashly Burch's personal feelings on the character. Originally, I had planned on using the time skip to create a situation where Chloe was already in a place where she was trying to express being gender fluid, and in turn use that as an expression of the awkwardness I'm going through trying to transition my gender without...actually being able to right now.
Ultimately, I decided that side plot for Chloe would be too complicated to work into everything ELSE going on, and really, her story needed to focus more on contrasting Max's. Max's story is about her inner self and learning to accept herself and be at peace with herself. Chloe's, by contrast, is about about the world around her, outside herself, and learning to accept and be at peace with the people around her (we see some of that in chap12 with her mother and we'll see it developed further with Stella and Victoria in particular, but also with Max, of course).
So, yea! The shorter version is that, yes, in this alternate reality, a part of Chloe -- an alternate expression of herself -- was/is actively gender fluid.
Thanks for reading and leaving your thoughts and support!
