Discover Top Posts Tagged with #multiverse simulator

i know the end (phoebe bridgers)

i took some of my favourite parts of other multisim drawings i’ve done; the satellite in jalya’s first world, the great city of promethea, the island home to the shrine of space and jalya sitting on top of the crew’s apartment in sonamu town!

i found this song a few days ago and my gosh has it emotionally devastated me… very multiverse simulator style

#multiverse simulator #art #scifi #phoebe bridgers

new multiverse simulator lore

context: it's a novel of some flavour that i've been working on since september 2021 and has undergone a LOT of lore changes. i will reblog things to this post with #multisim as a shorthand

NARRATORS :)

Ansythe Navarro (Jalya Navarro in older lore): resident meteorologist (earth science undergrad) at Kodia Reach National Park, 1/3 of the Ranger Trifecta. Eventually becomes Assistant Head of Southern Iroya’s Department of the Environment.

Yuuja Aldana: PhD candidate (physics undergrad) assigned to Kodia Reach National Park. Eventually becomes a field meteorologist working on a remote station in Eastern Iroya.

MAJOR CHARACTERS :)

Jihae Larsen (formerly known as Jihae Loendanna or Jihae Breckenvas): Fire management specialist (biochem undergrad) at Kodia Reach National Park, 1/3 of the Ranger Trifecta.

Hera Marlowe (formerly known as Hera Kaihevo): Megaflora conservationist (ecology undergrad) at Kodia Reach National Park, 1/3 of the Ranger Trifecta.

Valery " Valera" Northwind (formerly known as Halla Northwind): PhD candidate (ecology undergrad) assigned to Kodia Reach National Park.

Lars Montana: Director of Kodia Reach National Park.

MINOR CHARACTERS :)

Cary Kulyk: Coroner and Judge on the Southern Iroyan Court.

Dr Arsenius Evanssen: Ansythe and Yuuja's supervisor at Kodia Reach National Park.

#multisim #multiverse simulator #my writing

places in nolbaehir: part 1

this is how i feel about some of the major locations in nolbaehir.

the shrine of space: “this story ends where it began - at a little, long, forgotten island at the edge of the world.” there’s a deep and ancient magic that permeates the earth, the trees and the streams, and the air crackles with it. the stones of the shrine are thick with ghosts from a long-forgotten murder. deep within the forest, there’s a crack in the world, and no amount of bloodshed will seal it up again.

sonamu town: the people here just want a quiet life. the sunsets here wash the grimy pastel buildings in a thousand shades of gold and orange. the trains run a little behind schedule but no-one minds. won’t you stay a little longer? won’t you watch the stars with me, won’t you laugh as we run through the cobbled streets waving colourful strings of flags? there’s a storm dressed in white and grey blowing in over the northern horizon, and i fear our offerings will no longer placate it. if you leave, you will not come back the same.

parela town: the last stronghold of magecraft on nolbaehir. the hot, dry wind rolls in over the buildings, the scent of eucalyptus and dust mingling with oil, salt and grunge. for seven thousand years, it has been a safe haven for forbidden knowledge and secret trysts, for ancient grudges and loves alike. there is a sickness in the city, rising up through the streets wearing the badges of prefects and district supervisors. the archmage watches from her window at her beloved city. she fears it is too late.

the deep woods: no-one knows how old these trees are. perhaps it’s better not to know. it’s rumoured to be the realm of the gods. parents tell their children tales of wanderers and curious adventurers lost in the dark, lured further in by mysterious lights. once, long ago, it was more commonplace to travel on foot through the woods to get from one end of the continent to another. those days are long gone, what with the rise of skycraft. but the earth remembers. and it will embrace those who tread carefully, it will grant them with safe passage and dreamless sleep. perhaps it is better that the old ways were forgotten.

the city: fundamentally, it is a liminal space. no amount of extravagant feats of architecture and elegant masterworks will dull the feeling of impermanence, of dis-ease as you run down the empty boulevards after curfew. graffiti is expressly forbidden, and yet there are eyes everywhere. the city is bathed red with the light of the revolution. the city would have you believe that the future here is neon-bright, but like the rest of it, that is a lie.

#nolbaehir #multiverse simulator

the wayward son of iroya, whose hands bleed red trying to build a better world.

#halla saikhangiin northwind #multiverse simulator #my art

multiverse simulator/ouroboros character info!!

this post is the official reference for my major character names and basic info, as i’ve realised i haven’t really kept track of them lmao. anyway!

MULTIVERSE SIMULATOR characters:

jalya navarro - he/him - 26 - bisexual and queer - the narrator of Arc A

jihae breckenvas - she/her - 24 - greyro lesbian - the mage

anahera “hera” kaihevo - she/they - 28 - queer - the acolyte

halla saikhangiin northwind - he/him - 29 - demisexual - the heir

yuuja aldana-lehtonen - they/he - 27 - unlabeled - the narrator of Arc B

vara aldana - he/him - mid-fifties - aroace - the archaeologist

OUROBOROS characters:

tevannen pasdar - he/him - late twenties - the navigator

makoto gelashvili - they/she - 19 - unlabeled - the engineer

atlas tusaarva - ze/hir - early thirties - sapphic - the atoner

#multiverse simulator #ouroboros multiverse simulator #my writing #my ocs

so uh if multiverse simulator ever got animated in the future which is a little bit of a pipe dream of mine i know exactly who could voice jalya (if either of them are interested of course): sam zelaya (wendell and wild is a very cool movie) or benjamin callins (terry my bestie)!

#multiverse simulator #jalya navarro #sam zelaya #benjamin callins #it’s crucial that his va can do/has an aussie accent cause that’s what jalya sounds like in my brain lmao

every time the lights start turning blue

a snippet from something i’m writing about halla and yuuja’s relationship over the course of 7-ish years

The sign pinned to the front door advertised all-night access to the laundrette’s facilities and complimentary cups of kaphe, but within the neon-washed walls stained with dirt and fumes from the generator shoved under the counter sat Yuuja, alone as they were most nights like these, staring blankly at the solitary machine at work. They swilled the almost-untouched cup around in their hands. Another good reason why the little corner building was frequently desolate.

Juno didn’t know about this. No-one did – but then again, they’d never asked why Yuuja frequently appeared with shadows under their eyes at work the next morning. Some things were better left unsaid. So it wasn’t lying, not really, when they told Juno they couldn’t sleep. But Yuuja still felt a twinge of guilt every time she went out of her way to put up the blackout blinds.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault in particular. An archaeologist who kept too many secrets for his own good, his son (no, that didn’t feel quite right – they were neither son nor daughter to anyone now) who should have left when they had the chance, the stray bullet let loose from a weapon cradled in the arms of a flighty footsoldier, the gaping hole in Yuuja’s memories that they could never quite fill, the woman whose name scrawled on a piece of paper stuffed into their coat pocket who never spoke a word of Akkethi and startled at the slightest mention of their father. Too many thoughts swirling around their head as they stared at the roof of their cramped room, illuminated by the city glow that the curtains couldn’t block out and some faded glow stars stuck to the plaster.

The deserted laundrette wasn’t a great fix, but it was somewhat better than wandering the lonely streets of The City.

It was getting late, even for their night-owl tendencies. The glowing red numbers of the wall clock had started to blur, a surefire sign that they would either have to stumble home without waking anyone up, or that they’d find themselves curled up on the bench with a fair few curious eyes upon them come morning. The kaphe sufficiently cold enough to justify tipping it down one of the industrial-sized sinks, they did so, pushing the plastoid seats back underneath the cluster of cheap café tables crowded in the centre of the room. Despite the increasing difficulty in keeping their eyes open, Yuuja felt hesitant to leave. Their jacket wouldn’t be completely dry, and they’d have to make the walk home in damp clothes and worse spirits.

“Don’t mind if I join you? It’s awfully cold out there.”

The voice had a Tarikol rhythm, slightly smoother than Standard Iroyan and a good deal more lilting. Yuuja turned around to face the front of the shop, vaguely aware that the wind had left their hair severely dishevelled. He couldn’t have been much older, with soft features and a surprisingly persistent array of freckles scattered across his face.

“Sure.” They were suddenly acutely aware of their own accent, patched and sewn with threads of Akkethi that rose to prominence in their exhaustion. Juno would be disappointed. Juno wasn’t here. And besides, it was nice to use their voice, the one that didn’t require effort behind every word and practiced, nonchalant dexterity to sound acceptably assimilated.

“Is it any good?” He pointed at the kaphe machine sitting quietly on the counter with hands conspicuously devoid of laundry. “Forgive me, but it’s fucking freezing and I could do with something warm to drink.”

“You can try it if you want. I thought it was rather… weak.”

Almost every café littered across the neatly-organised grids of The City that Yuuja had visited had appalling kaphe. For one, it was overpriced. And the lack of spices and raw sugar didn’t make any of it worth remembering.

He stopped, abandoning the paper cup and sitting at one of the other tables close by. “Another nightmare averted, for which I owe you gratitude.” He stared up at them from the resting place he’d made on the glass-topped surface, wearing an expression so endearingly serious that they couldn’t help but smile.

“Your kind words are thanks enough,” they laughed. And in a moment of reckless abandon, suddenly wanting more with him than a freezing night in a run-down laundrette, they added, “Yuuja Lehtonen.” And a hand, stretched out across the table. He reached across, tracing their fingerless gloves before shaking it.

“Saikhangiin Halla.”