hello, i was wondering if you had references for the mc's skin color options ? sorry if that's a weird ask but i have a hard time visualising them
Hi there anon ✨ Not a weird ask at all, I have a hard time visualising them too, and I made them lol.
In the new, updated version of the game, the skin colour options will be slightly different. I'm really unsure about a lot of the physical character customisation, because I'm not a very detailed visualiser, and I know that skin colour in particular can be a sensitive subject. These are the skin colour options that I have at the moment, and the references that go along with them:
I'm really unsure about the undertones though, as I'm not very good with this stuff, so I'd love some feedback on that if anyone has any. Also I hope this is a good selection? Let me know what you think.
Snippet of RO reactions to MC dying in their arms?? Maybe from a pistol wound or something??? 👀👀
Ay, I asked for angst, and you came through, anon, yikes 😭😭 This took me so long to write, help
Under the cut for length
Isobel:
“Isobel Claymoore! This is for you!” A voice rings out across the lot, and Isobel’s head jerks up to scan her surroundings, looking for the source. She glances down in confusion as she senses you rushing in front of her.
A gunshot reverberates in her ears, snapping her eyes up to find a man pointing a smoking revolver towards the two of you with shaking hands, looking frightened, yet resolute.
She feels ire spreading through her veins as she snaps at the man. “What is the meaning of this?”
A gasp from her side draws Isobel’s attention to you, and a surge of shock seizes her as she sees your hands clutching at your chest, where scarlet blood is already seeping through your fingers.
Isobel calls out your name urgently, clutching your upper arms to steady you.
There’s a flurry of activity around, as people rush to seize the man and wrangle the gun from his hands, but Isobel hardly notices, her eyes are glued to yours.
You glance up, eyes wide in panic, as you feel your knees buckle underneath you, but Isobel immediately catches you, lowering you steadily to the ground.
“Isobel…” you whimper as tears begin to flow unbidden from your eyes.
The sight of your tears shakes her out of her stupor and she lets out a choked scream as her hands come to cover your own, pressing against the wound shakily.
“Somebody fetch the surgeon!”
Isobel is dimly aware of someone shouting commands in her vicinity, but for once in her life she is not in a mindset to take charge. Her eyes are fixed on yours, a range of emotions flickering over her face as her mind begins to connect the dots. Horror. Fear. Anguish.
“Why did you do that?” She wants to shake you. “That shot was meant for me!”
“I wanted… to protect you…” you gasp out through shaky breaths.
She squeezes her eyes shut, fighting back tears. “You fool!” She snarls, but it comes out more like a tremble.
The blood is everywhere, escaping through her shaky fingers like a rushing river and she doesn’t know how to stop it. With her pulse drumming in her ears, she looks around frantically for the surgeon. “Where is the doctor?!”
As your breaths begin to come out in short gasps, Isobel feels an icy fear spreading through her, chilling her down to her very soul. She feels out of control. Helpless. She wants to comfort you, tell you that all will be well, that the surgeon will be here any moment, but her mouth has gone dry and unresponsive.
“Isobel…,” you squeeze out, drawing her attention back to you. “I don’t… think…”
“Shh,” Isobel urges you, eyes watering as she takes in your pale, haggard face. “Don’t exert yourself, just focus on breathing.”
You shake your head weakly, struggling against your blurring vision. “No, I… don’t…” You draw in a shaky breath. “I’m not… going to make it.”
“Do not say such things!” Isobel’s eyes blaze with anger as she admonishes you, but you can clearly see the fear gleaming through her eyes.
“I’m… sorry,” you whisper feebly as your eyes begin to flutter shut.
“No!” Isobel cries out. “Come back!”
But it’s no use. She watches helplessly as your body takes its last shuddering breath, before you go completely still. A desperate scream tears from her lungs that quickly turn into a raging fury as she gets to her feet.
“You!” She thunders, turning towards the shooter, who is still held back by two men. He stares back at her with his jaw raised, but in his eyes there is a flicker of doubt. “What have you done?!”
She moves to launch herself at the man, driven by a blinding wrath, but she too is held back by bystanders. She needs to make him pay! “Let me go!” She demands. But they won’t relent.
Eventually her anger fades, leaving behind a dull, aching grief that makes her collapse to the ground as she stares hopelessly at your lifeless body. A violent sob wrecks through her body as she crawls over to grasp your motionless hand. You’re gone. Never coming back. Taken from her in the blink of an eye. She lets tear stained eyes scan frantically over your features, trying to memorise them one last time, and as she watches your emotionless face, Isobel feels her heart shatter into a million pieces.
Max:
The narrow alleyway the thief has brought you into is cold and dark as Max turns their pockets out to offer whatever riches they have to the man that’s currently pointing a revolver at the two of you. Their body is protectively hovering in front of yours, determined to shield you, but hoping the thief will just take the money and go.
“Oi! What is the meaning of this?” Comes a shout from the opening of the alleyway, and you all jerk your heads to see a soldier approaching.
“Stay away!” The thief implores, turning to point his gun at the newcomer instead.
“Come on!” You shout, grabbing Max’ hand as you begin to pull him away, intent on using this distraction to your advantage. “Let’s go!”
The soldier advances, and a scuffle breaks out. The two of you have almost slipped past them, when the deafening sound of a gunshot echoes through the narrow lane, and you both jump, freezing in place.
The thief takes off running, with the soldier close on his heel, and Max tries to tug on your hand to make you move, but you’re frozen in place, eyes drawn to the sharp pain blossoming in your stomach.
Max frowns at your immobility. “Name, is something…” Their eyes trails down to land on your stomach, where they see, with rising horror, the scarlet blood trickling through the fabric of your clothes.
Time seems to slow down as Max instinctively rushes forward to catch your sagging form. They help you down to the ground as fear claws at their throat. “Oh God,” they mutter, panic rising in their voice. “Name! You… You have been…”
A voice from the street shouts, calling for someone to fetch a surgeon.
“What can I do, Name?” Max stares imploringly at you, their voice shaking with anxiety. “Please tell me what to do! Anything!”
“I…” Your mouth has gone dry. “We need… to stop… the bleeding…”
“Yes, of course…” Max trails off, wringing their jacket off, and hovering over the wound, hands shaking as they hesitate. “I uh… Shall I just…?”
You let out something between a laugh and sob, but manage to nod your head. “Yes… put pressure… on it.”
They press the fabric against the wound, and you can’t help how you flinch. Water wells up in their eyes as they stare at you, crestfallen. “Forgive me,” they whisper. “This never should have happened… If only I…”
You shake your head weakly, feeling yourself slipping further and further away. “No, Max…” you gasp out between shuddering breaths. “…not… your fault.”
They shake their head, guilt corroding their insides. “It was me he was targeting.. If you had not been with me, this never would have happened. I you had never met me you would have been safe. How could I ever think…”
You raise a shaky hand to grab on to his wrist, knowing that you don’t have much time left. “Max… listen to me. I won’t… make.. it.”
Their face falls as their heart stutters painfully in their chest. “No, God, please…” They let the jacket fall from their grip as they see you begin to slip away, and they lean forward to cup your cheeks with both hands, pleading. “Please, Name! Don’t leave me alone.” Their voice is wrought with desperation as they clutch your face. “I cannot bear to face this world without you.”
But it’s no use. The light is fading fast from your eyes as black spots appear in your vision. “I’m… sorry..” You gasp out on your last breath, before your body slumps back and goes eerily still.
Max collapses over your motionless form as grief shatters his insides, and he lets out a wrecked sob. “Please,” he begs helplessly. “Come back.”
Clara:
You and Clara are walking along a forested path at the edge of the Hamilton property. It’s a beautiful sunny day, with birds chirping all around you, and the rustling of leaves in the breeze would make for a particularly soothing atmosphere, had it not been occasionally broken by the sound of gunshots from the hunting party in the distance, but you make do.
The deafening sound of a gunshot ringing much closer than you expected makes the both of you jump in unison.
Clara’s head turns, her attention pulled towards you as she hears a surprised gasp escape your lips. Your head is bowed, and she follows your line of sight with a frown until her eyes land on your hands clutching at your stomach, where crimson blood is already flooding through your fingertips.
Fear hits her like icy water as she too sucks in a gaps. “Name!” She cries. “You’re bleeding!”
You begin to feel lightheaded and sink to your knees, and Clara immediately follows, clutching at your arms in a desperate hold as she helps you to the ground.
“What do I do, Name?” Her voice is frantic as her eyes flicker from the wound to your eyes, hands hovering helplessly over yours. “Please, tell me what to do!”
“I don’t….” You gasp out, jaw gritting against the pain. “I don’t…know.”
Tears begin to fall from Clara’s eyes as she bites back a frantic scream. “You need a surgeon, I must fetch a surgeon!”
Your bloodied hand reaches grab her wrist as she begins to get to her feet, and she stops.
Tears begin to trickle from your own eyes, and you blink, fighting against your blurring vision. “I think…” You swallow, trying to catch your breath. “… it’s too… late.”
“No!” She yanks her hand out of your grasp, a desperate fear blazing from her eyes. “Do not say that!”
You shake your head weakly. “I’m sorry… Please… Stay with me.”
“Please, Name!” Clara sobs as she crawls over to cup your face with both hands. “You cannot leave me. Please be all right!”
You try to offer her a feeble smile of comfort, but it quickly turns to a grimace as you’re wrecked with shivers and your vision fades.
“No, no, no!” Clara cries as she pulls your head into her lap. “Please, stay with me!”
But it’s no use. The light is already fading from your eyes, and Clara can do nothing but watch hopelessly as you take your last gasping breath of air. As your figure goes still, she stays clutching your unmoving body in her arms, violent sobs wrecking her small frame as her heart is wrenched from her chest and her spirit crumbles inside of her.
Richard
The shot that rings through the air makes Richard flinch as he ducks on instinct, reflexively grabbing you to shield you with his body. He’s immediately transported back to the war and the chaos that reigned on the ship in the middle of battle, and his pulse is racing as he lets his eyes scan the surroundings for incoming threats. It takes his brain a couple of seconds to remember that the war is actually over, and that the surroundings he finds himself in are not his ship, it is in fact his home town.
Shaking himself out of this stupor, his eyes snap down to you, who have gone very still in his arms. His heart clenches in his chest when he finds you staring up at him, pale faced with wide, fearful eyes.
“Are you hurt?” He implores, voice shaky with repressed anxiety, as he squeezes you a little tighter, needing to know that you are safe and well. He freezes in place as you let out a pained hiss at the contact, and he nearly drops you, worried that he has caused you pain.
He frantically traces every inch of your body, looking for injuries, and as his eyes come to a halt on the side of your torso, that’s when he sees it. Crimson blood soaking through the fabric of your clothes.
He falters for a moment at the sight. “No,” he whispers, breath hitching in his throat. “Please, no…”
“Richard…” You whimper, your breath now coming in short gasps.
He grits his teeth, fighting back the panic that surges through him, as he gently lowers you to the ground. “Have no fear, name, all will be well.” He’s not entirely sure who he’s trying to convince as he rips the cravat from his neck with shaking hands, pushing it against the wound to stem the blood flow.
Your painful yelp almost makes him jerk his hand away, but he knows this must be done. He has seen this type of injury before, too many times. He must stop the blood. He needs a doctor. Now.
Scanning the surroundings for any bystanders, any movement whatsoever, he desperately calls out. “Someone, please help! We need a doctor.”
But there is no reply. The forest is quiet. It seems you’re all alone. The cravat is quickly soaked through, and with a curse, he wrings his jacked off to replace it.
Knowing no one is coming to help you, he knows that he must bring you to aid himself. He hefts you into his arms, careful to keep the jacket pressed against your side as he carries you.
“Stay with me, name,” he urges as he feels your head loll against his neck. “Just stay with me, that is all I ask.”
His mind tries to calculate how far into the forest you have wandered and how long it might take him to reach the town from there. All the while a thousand emotions flash through his body like burning embers. Fear. Guilt. Anguish.
“It ought to have been me,” he chokes out. “I should have protected you.”
“Richard,” you whisper, voice so weak and distant he might not have heard it if your mouth wasn’t right next to his ear. “Richard, I won’t—“
“No, please!” He begs as he sees your eyes flutter closed. “Name! Stay with me!”
But it’s no use. Your body goes slack as a final breath escapes your parted lips, and Richard falls to his knees, clutching you to his chest as a guttural, broken roar is wrenched from his chest, echoing through the empty forest.
William:
The market place is teeming with activity, and spirits are high as people go about enjoying the festivities. William is filled with a contented warmth that seems almost too good to be true, as he navigates through the crowds with you on his arm.
The sounds of laughter and music is soon interrupted by the loud bang of a rifle going off, making people jump and scream as they look around for the source of the commotion.
A farmer is stood by the booth selling hunting rifles with one of the wares in his hands, and it seems to have gone off on accident. The crowd laughs a little in relief as they realise what happened, but the dawning look of horror on the man’s face as he stares in your direction, makes William’s heart run cold.
A quiet “Oh,” from your mouth draws his attention to you as your hand slips slowly from his arm to clutch at your stomach, where ruby red blood is now gushing through your fingers.
For a moment, his world stops spinning as his eyes struggle to make sense of what they’re seeing, his brain scrambling to explain away the nightmarish scene unfolding in front of him.
As you wobble dangerously on your feet, William is jerked out of his catatonic state, as he instinctively moves to catch you before you fall, gently lowering you to the ground.
The crowd seems to have frozen for a moment too, but suddenly there is a frenzy of activity as people begin to scream and shout. William has no idea what they’re saying, all he hears is the white noise of his heart pounding in his ears, and all he sees is you, the pained and frightened expression on your face making his chest tighten in fear.
“Here!” Someone hands him a bundle of cloth. “We’ve called for the surgeon, but you must keep this pressed against the wound to stem the bleeding.”
William nods and complies. “Hear that, name?” He says, struggling to keep the shakiness out of his voice as he pushes the fabric against your wound, pain gripping at his chest when you wincing at his touch. “Everything is going to be fine. The surgeon is on his way. You will be fine. You’ll see.” His voice takes on a hint of hysteria, and he’s not entirely sure who he’s trying to convince. You, or himself.
“Will…” you ground out shakily. “This is… bad.” You swallow thickly, struggling to keep your breathing normal. “I don’t think… I’ll make it.”
William interrupts you, moving one hand to cup your cheek, desperation blazing from his eyes. “Don’t say that! Please, just hold on. For me, please.”
You shake your had weakly, as you feel your vision blurring. “I won’t…” You try to quell the fear rising in your chest. “I have to...”
William struggles against the panic welling up in his chest. “Stop, please.” He begs, tears welling up in his eyes. “Don’t… Just stay with me.”
He tears his eyes away from you to scan the crowd frantically. “Where is the surgeon!?”
People stretch their necks to check the area, but there seems to be no sign of him.
Your breaths are coming out in short gasps now, and the blood has all but soaked through the bundle of fabrics. William has never felt so useless in his entire life.
“Please,” William begs, lowering his forehead to rest against your. “Please, don’t leave me, name, I need you I—,” he breaks off as he chokes back a pained sob. “I can’t loose you, I just…”
He leans back to plead with his eyes, but there’s no use. The life is slowly dimming from your beautiful eyes. “Please,” he whispers brokenly as your eyes flutter closed and a last gasping breath escapes your lungs. As your form goes still and your face turns vacant, sorrow shreds his insides, leaving him gasping for breath as he crumbles. “Please,” he whispers despairingly. “I love you.”
Reactions to a Pregnant!MC putting their partner's hand on their belly, cause the baby is kicking and such? I just want SOFT hours!
Sorry for the late reply, anon! I wanted to write snippets for these, but it took me a while, because apparently I don’t know how to write short snippets?? Somebody teach me how to write please
I hope these are soft enough for you though 🥺👉🏻👈🏻
Isobel:
You and Isobel are both reclining on a sofa in the drawing room, her with a book in one hand, reading steadily aloud, while you’re tucked under her other arm, leaning against her chest.
You’re completely relaxed, gently stroking your pregnant belly, as you’re all but lulled into sleep by Isobel’s calming voice, when you suddenly feel the familiar flutter of movement from the baby.
“Issie!” You gasp, excitement waking you up. “The baby is kicking again!”
You grab her hand that’s been resting across your torso and place it on your belly, moving it around until you find the right place.
Sitting so close to her, you can feel Isobel’s sharp intake of breath when she senses the baby’s movements.
You turn your head to offer her a warm smile, and witness an awed and incredulous look on her face that is so uncharacteristic you have to let out a small laugh.
“Incredible, isn’t it?” You say.
“It truly is,” she breathes.
She stays that way, frozen in rapt attention, until the baby stops. Then she lets the book clutter to the floor as she wraps both arms around you, carefully tugging you closer as she places a tender, long kiss on your temple.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, and you know her well enough to recognise the thousand things she’s trying to convey with a simple thank you.
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being here. Thank you for all that you’ve given me. I love you.
Max:
It’s late at night, and you and Max are in bed. They’re already asleep, wrapped around you from behind like a koala, with one hand protectively clutching your pregnant belly. You however, are struggling to fall asleep. Your body feels awake and restless, and you’re not entire sure why.
Sighing a little, you wonder if you should just give up and get up, when you suddenly feel a newfound sensation in your belly. You gasp in surprise, hand immediately reaching down to feel the place where you felt a strong kick.
“Max!” You call out, jamming your elbow into them. “Max, wake up!”
“Huh,” they mumble, half-asleep as they stir beside you.
“Max, feel this.” You grab their hand and place it on your belly, trying to predict where the next kick will be.
Suddenly, Max is wide awake, face lighting up in excitement. “The baby!” They exclaim. “I can feel it!”
You laugh. “Yes, I can feel it too.”
Their eyes are wide with wonder as they flicker back and forth between your face and your belly giddily, as if they’re not sure which one they want to focus on.
They scoot down on the bed to get closer. “Hello, little one,” Max whispers reverently to the belly. “This is your papa.”
The answering kick has them beaming up at you, and they’re so adorable, you think you might melt into a puddle.
They spend a few more minutes whispering nonsensical promises to the baby, until it quiets, then they wrap their arms around your lower body to rest their head gently on your belly, as they let out a contented sigh.
Glancing up at you, their face turns more serious than usual. “I love you so much. Both of you.” He squeezes you gently, as if afraid you might disappear any moment. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me.”
Clara:
You’re sat in a lounging chair in the drawing room with both hands arranged to hold your swollen belly, whilst Clara stands in front of a canvas a few feet away with a paintbrush in hand, carefully attempting to immortalise the image. You’re trying your best to stay still and keep the same position, but you never imagined how dull it would be to have your picture painted. Clara has to remind you every few minutes not to move around.
“Are you almost finished?” You ask for what must be the hundredth time.
Clara shakes her head, amusement playing on her face. “A masterpiece takes time, my love.”
You groan. “At this rate, I’m going to give birth before you finish.”
Clara gasps, mock affronted. “Are you suggesting I am slow?” Then she frowns, face contorting with worry. “If you are tired, we can take a break.”
You wave her off. “Please, darling, I’m made of sturdier stuff than—”
A sudden movement from the baby has you gasping, hand clutching at your belly in surprise.
Clara immediately crosses the room with a squeal. “Is the baby kicking again? Let me feel!”
She comes to squeeze in next to you on the chair, and you help guide her hand to the right place on your belly. When she feels the movement under her hand, she sucks in an excited breath, and beams up at you. “I can feel it! It’s kicking!”
You laugh. “Yes, I know, I feel it too.”
She huffs at your reply, but it doesn’t deter the grin on her face as she leans down to place a loving kiss on the belly before speaking to it. “I cannot wait for you to join us, little one. You are so loved.”
As she straightens and locks eyes with you, she turns more serious, mist gathering in her eyes. “And so are you.” She reaches up to cup your face in her hands and begin placing tender kisses on your face, each punctuated with a word. “So. very. loved.”
Richard:
You and Richard are sat in the library with a board of chess spread out on the table between you, as Richard, rather unsuccessfully, tries to teach you chess. The further into your pregnancy you get, the more fussy and overprotective he becomes, which is why he’s resorted to teaching you chess; a relaxing non-strenuous activity.
You keep fidgeting in your chair, trying to find a comfortable position that allows you to both study the board, and move your pieces around, but your swollen belly keeps getting in the way.
Sighing, you mindlessly move one of your pieces, while your mind wistfully thinks back to the time when your own body wasn’t in the bloody way.
“I’m sorry, dear,” Richard interrupts you. “You cannot move your springer in such a fashion.”
You frown down at the board, personally affronted. “Why not?”
Richard’s lip twitches in amusement. “I’m afraid those are the rules.”
You pout. “These rules make no sense! Why can’t the oof—” you instinctively double over, hand clutching your belly, at a particularly hefty kick from your baby.
Richard is on his feet and next to you in an instant, hovering anxiously.
“What happened? Are you in pain? Shall I fetch a doctor?”
His rapid fire questions of worry startles out a laugh from you.
“No, no, there’s no need for a doctor. Here,” you grab his hand to place it on your belly.
Richard’s eyes widens almost comically as he feels the powerful movement under his hand.
“Incredible,” he utters breathlessly, looking awestruck. Suddenly his face transforms into an anxious frown. “You’re not in pain, are you?”
You worry your lip, wondering how to explain the sensation. “No, it’s not painful, exactly, though it is… strange.”
He stares down at you for a moment as if you’re a puzzle he can never quite figure out. “Come here,” he orders gruffly, giving you a hand up.
He places one hand gently on your belly and wraps the other around you to keep you close. “Incredible,” he repeats again, kissing you forehead tenderly. “You are incredible, and I am the luckiest man alive.”
William:
You’re sat on a bench outside, carefully keeping an eye on Frederick and Gracie as they fly around the field with a kite, whilst William is close by, doing some work in the garden. Sighing contentedly, you gently rub your hand over your bulging stomach, now grown to the point where it’s slightly uncomfortable to even sit upright, so you find yourself leaning backwards a little to give it space.
Closing your eyes, you draw in a deep breath of the fresh summer air, when you suddenly gasp and freeze, one hand clutching your stomach in surprise.
William immediately calls your name, worry etched into his voice as he drops his shovel to appear at your side.
“What’s the matter?” He crouches in front of you, face alert with anxiety as he looks you over. “Are you unwell?”
You’re a little floored by the newfound sensation in your stomach, but manage to shake your head. “No, no, I’m not unwell I—,” you struggle to find the right words as your mind marvels at the strange feeling. You’ve felt flutters from the baby before, but these.. these are proper kicks.
“Here,” you say instead, grabbing his hand and placing it on your belly, “feel for yourself.”
William frowns in confusion, but obeys.
Williams eyes shoot up to yours as he feels the distinct movement against his hand, realisation dawning, before it turns to wonder and amazement.
You begin to frown though, as you see his eyes fill up with mist and he glances away, self-consciously.
“Hey,” you say, cupping his cheek to turn his head back towards you. “Are you all right?”
He manages a nod, clearing his throat a little. “I’m all right,” he says, voice still a little hoarse with emotion. “I’m just... I'm so happy, I—” He shakes his head, words failing him. Instead, he takes your hand from his cheeks so he can place a reverent kiss on the inside of your wrist, and when he looks up at you, his eyes are filled with so much love and adoration, it knocks the breath out of your lungs. “Thank you,” he finally manages. “I love you, more than words could ever express.”
omg YES to skill levels - I love picking to be terrible at stuff, it's hilarious. My MC will be the worst artist, it'll be like:
William: what a nice... flower you've drawn there
MC: it's a elephant 🥺😥
William: *sweats*
bonus points - the kids can absolutely always tell what MCs going for 😌
Yes!! I really want to include the option to be absolutely shit at things 😂 I think it makes for equally fun reactions from the ROs and others.
Lmao! I love this scenario! Poor William, he would die inside 😂🥺 I deffo think Gracie would always be on board with MC's drawings, while everyone else is like ??? how can she tell??
Imagining an MC that takes the time to draw with Gracie and Frederick makes me soft, ngl 🥺🥺🤎 And William would be shot through the heart, but in the best way 🥺
I was wondering if we'd be able to have a fit/strong MC? Gym Rat and all. Or just if that will be a stat at all looked at? No worries if not I'm just always interested on if MC could, theoretically, bench press their RO as an option. But I love everything in Chp 1 and so am excited to see more and all the other characters!
You can definitely have a fit/strong MC, and I’m currently working on adding more options to Chapter 1 and/or 2 to cover these things. It won’t be its own stat in the sense that it will change throughout the game, but MC’s physique and appearance will come into play in various ways throughout the story.
Lmao, now all I can think of is a strong MC bench pressing Richard and his bewildered, panicked face 😂 Thank you so much anon! ✨🤎 Happy to hear it
Hi! I’ve just wanted to say that you did an amazing job on the demo, and I absolutely loved it! ❤️ Thank you so much for sharing your creation with the world! C: I’m curious about something, and I am sorry if this was asked before: Are there any options for an MC with a disability? I have mild CP myself, and it makes me wonder if during the regency era if they are treated differently versus in today’s world, or if that doesn’t really come into play. …I feel like this is super loaded for an ask >< but I love how inclusive it is so far!
Hi, anon! ✨ Wow, high praise, indeed — thank you so much! I'm very happy you liked it 🤎
I don't think I've had a question like this before, no :) As of right now there aren't any options to play the MC with disabilities, no, and it probably won't be in the first draft/beta version. There are a few characters with disabilities in the game though, so we will explore a little bit of how they are treated differently (if at all) in the game.
I'm diagnosed with Essential Tremors myself, though it's still pretty mild for me, so I wouldn't necessarily classify it as a disability, but it's certainly noticeable at times, and it does affect me at work a lot.
I think it would be interesting to explore reactions to such in the game, since they had less understanding of it back then, and I'll definitely look into including some options for disabilities if and when I've finished the game. I'd love to see more representation of this too, but I definitely want to do some proper research before I potentially incorporate this.
Hello Vahnya, There is a problem that needs to be solved, when I go Journal, scrolling to the personality traits, the second trait where it says easygoing and panicked, there is a small error to be repaired. Also is it possible to add scars in the game?
Hi there! ✨
Ooh, yes, sorry about that. I've fixed a lot of little errors in chapter 1, as well as edited it quite a bit and added some more choices and content, though I'm not quite finished with it yet as I keep switching between editing chapter 1 and attempting writing chapter 2.
I wasn't really sure if I should upload the new chapter 1 once it's finished, or wait until chapter 2 is finished to upload them both?
thoughts? wishes? let me know ✨ I've also got a new ui and design in the making, so i might wait for that too.
As of right now there's no option to add scars, but I have definitely been considering it! What kind of scars would you like to see?
Okay same anon who just freaked out over swordfighting lessons here, swords are A+ but also Please give my regency mc a gun I wanna be a nasty little time-traveling gremlin running around armed and dangerous and flashing my ankles at everybody
😂😂 petition to be a nasty little time-traveling gremlin?? Ya wanna give MC a gun? Watch this turn into a murder mystery like Death Comes to Pemberly 👀👀 We shall see 😎✌🏼
