hello! idk how tumblr pings work . but abt the 3 hr presentation . can I see it
Of course!! It's mostly 3h long because I usually present it while on VC. The only issue is, that I can't send the PowerPoint unless I zip it up because it's the same size as Undertale.
Should mention that this has been going on since early 2022? And the PowerPoint is over 300 slides.
Here is a link to an old stream that my friend @rudeboimonster set up. The PowerPoint has already been updated many times after this video. At the start there is a bit of gameplay so if you want to go to the PowerPoint right away you'd have to skip around a bit.
Idk if this was sent bc honestly the bastard could very much be me and I need to learn some self love or u somehow telepathically heard that I had to endure half an hour of an angry parent yelling at me through the phone at work in the office today.
Ingo wakes up after the train he was on... the train he was on that...? What happened? He isn’t sure but one thing is clear. This is not the Subway. This is not his home.
My take on the whole Ingo get’s isekai’d.
Author’s Note: My first language isn’t English and this is my first ongoing fanfiction that I post. Enjoy
Warnings: Stress/Panicking, description of injury
Word Count: 1955
[First Part] [Previous] [Next]
Ingo felt his mind drifting in and out of a vague warmth, body weightlessly floating, disconnected from his station. Not here or there, just somewhere in between that kept him from arriving. His body dipped, lungs filled with mercury as he was dragged deep into the inky liquid, away from the fuzzy void. It pulled at his limbs, tearing into him. An icicle struck his ribs, ripping his mind free from the fog, and his body crashed down as a painful weight settled back into his bones. Ingo’s eyes snapped open to blinding white. White, white, white. The burning bright world around him stung his eyes like needles. He had to squeeze them shut again. Something was jostling around in his head like the DVD logo hitting every corner of his brain. He tried to focus on anything but the pain pressing down on him, the pounding headache, and the burning sensation behind his eyelids.
Ingo flexed his gloved hand, grasping cold beneath it. He dug a little harder. He heard it give away with a satisfying crunch between his fingers, getting a good chunk of the cold into his palm. It could be shaped by applying pressure, which dampened his glove.
Snow.
Snow?
He didn’t understand how but it certainly explained the stinging white in his vision. He cracked his eyes open, his heavy lids peeling away. Ingo was met with the same blinding scenery as before: white as far as he could see through his blurred vision with specks of grey peeking out beneath the snowy blanket. He didn’t know how he got here but one thing was clear: this wasn’t his station. His body shivered, derailing him from the question of how he got here to how he could leave. He felt his soaked-wet dress shirt sticking to his skin. It was dangerous wearing the wrong equipment! A dress shirt such as his own wasn’t sufficient for the climate that he was currently facing. It was best to leave this strange station, wherever that was, and head towards a dryer and less cold one. Ingo braced his palms against the snow, pushing his upper body off the ground. He grunted as a flaring pain in his arm send him crashing right back down.
He blinked in confusion as his head spun. He must have injured his arm somehow while landing in this bizarre place. It stung as if somebody placed a crowbar beneath his shoulder. Pushing and yanking, leaving his arm with a throbbing pain that ran all the way down over his elbow to his hand. Ingo had to run a full maintenance check once he managed to stand on his two feet. He leaned on his left side, hand firmly grounded. He angled his head and looked up, spotting a Glalie across from him. The Pokemon was floating over the icy landscape. It grunted at a rock, a puff of crystalized breath leaving its mouth. It turned towards him and their eyes locked. Ingo had no idea what overcame him but a deep instinct inside of him urged him to leave. Run, it screamed at him, run, Ingo.
His hands slammed into the ground, propelling him upright. He fell into a dead sprint, getting as far away from the Glalie as possible. Its deep, cool eyes followed him down the path he ran, grumbling deeply. It screeched after him as a warning, making Ingo dig his heels even harder into the snow to get away. What was that? He had never been scared of a Pokemon before. Why did this one strike such fear into him?
He couldn’t ask himself any further questions as stumbled over ice and slipped. One second, he was on the ground, the next he tumbled down a steep slope. Whites, blues, and greys merged into a blur until he landed in a heap of snow. The sky was upside down, his coat all over him. Ingo blinked. He wiggled himself into a sitting position, staring ahead in a daze. Marbles were rolling around in his head, like a child had dropped them on asphalt, creating a loud rumbling. A quiet yet high-pitched whistle accompanied the marbles. Loud and uncomfortable, very different from the whistle of a train. He clasped his cold gloves over his ears and shut his eyes to block out everything.
Breathe in, breathe out. His index fingers rubbed slow circles against his temples. Breathe in, breathe out, Ingo. Slow and steady in a pattern. The whistling and rumbling subsided slowly. Breathe in, breathe out. He sighed in relief, letting his eyes rest for a bit longer.
What strange happenings, thought Ingo to himself. How did he end up at a station like this? Someplace he couldn’t recognize, couldn’t place in his mind. He didn’t take a trip here either. Where had he been before? He was in Nimbasa City, Gear Station to be more precise. It was Friday, which meant he had been on the Multi-Battle Train… No, that wasn’t right. He rubbed at his temples some more as he exhaled slowly. He was on the Multi-Battle Train, yes but this one was empty, which meant it was the end of the day. That could only mean he was going to park the Single-Battles Train in its rightful station. Yes. That sounded right. He was manning the Singles Train by himself when… When he… The rest was a blur of panic that was flushed down a drain, unable to retrieve without the specific tools that he clearly lacked. It was like he never arrived at his set destination in the first place but was simply tossed there.
Ingo’s eyes snapped back open.
There was no time! His train was, as Emmet would say, running verrrry late!
He was way off schedule, derailed to a destination he couldn’t name. He needed to get back on track as soon as possible. He needed to inform everyone of the strange happenings. Emmet was waiting for him after all. Emmet, his dear brother! He must be worried sick for him. What time was it? He needed to call Emmet. Ingo fished into his coat pocket, surprised to find himself empty-handed. His phone! He most likely dropped it when he fell. His eyes fell on his right arm. He pulled back the fabric on his wrist, revealing the XTrans there. He fumbled with it, his gloved hands shaking slightly from the cold. Better find someplace warm as well, once he gathered his bearings.
His XTrans wouldn’t turn on, which was odd, knowing he kept it well charged. Perhaps it was damaged when he arrived. His eyes traveled up the steep snow slope, dreading what was waiting above. He’d have to go back up there and retrieve his phone if he wanted to inform anyone of his whereabouts. The Glalie encounter kept him waiting, wasting preciouses time. What was wrong with him? Surely, he wasn’t afraid of such a thing! That would be ridiculous and especially embarrassing. Emmet would never let him live that down. He was Ingo, Subway Boss of the Battle Subway in Nimbasa City! Some Glalie wasn’t going to make him back down just like that. How could he have forgotten this for even a second? He shook his head, getting rid of the thoughts tumbling over inside. His fall jumbled his mind. That was all. He was going to be alright.
This time he was mindful of his damaged limb, standing up with the help of his left arm. His shoulder felt off but he could let it get checked out once he was back at his station, with Emmet. He would call Elesa for sure, once he noticed Ingo was hurt. The both of them would hover over him all day long like a worried Rotom. At the moment Ingo wouldn’t mind it all by the way he shivered. Bundled up in a blanket and sitting on their cozy couch with a hot beverage. Yes, he would enjoy that a lot right now. He could enjoy that once he got his phone and contacted Emmet. Back on track, please!
Ingo walked back up the slope, climbing the last bit and pulling himself over the edge. He looked around, relieved he didn’t have to face the Glalie, even if it would have been no problem. He got to his full height and reminded himself of safety checks. His hand moved to his belt to retrieve Chandelure’s Pokeball. The ghost-fire type could keep any ice types at bay and her flames were comforting warm. She would be able to keep him safe until a rescue team came. Ingo stopped dead in his track towards the hole his body left back in the snow, hand hovering over an empty spot on his belt. His eyes darted down and indeed, there was an empty spot. No, not just one. All his Pokeballs were gone. They were gone! How could he lose his partners like this? How could he lose such precious friends of his? That didn’t make sense, it couldn’t, wouldn’t! He had them with him, they were right by his side when, when he- When whatever happened! The landing. Yes! The landing! They must have gotten uncoupled from him the way his phone had. That, that had to be it.
He held tightly onto that belief as he ran over to the Ingo-shaped hole in the snow and fell to his knees. A gloved hand frantically searched for several round devices between the white, combing through his icy surrounding. His hand dug in, shoveling the snow aside. He was too slow, there was too little to process, not enough- if Excadrill was here then things would be easier, however, he wasn’t because he was in his Pokeball, which was currently not in Ingo’s possession, which in return made it harder to look for the Pokemon, his Partners for the Twin Dragons’ sake! He needed to find his partners and the phone! Pronto! He bit his lip and leaned further down, trying to keep pressure off his right arm.
He didn’t find his phone. Yet. Ingo kept digging with his left arm, the cold barely a bother as it slowly grew numb. It would start prickling. He knew that, he knew it would start to hurt ten-fold if he didn’t stop. He couldn’t be bothered. He won’t be bothered until he finds them. His grey eyes burned with fiery determination when smooth red glinted out between the snow. Ingo gasped and dove for it. He pulled out a single Pokeball, frowning more than usual. There were supposed to be more, this couldn’t be it. Right? His body stiffened. Did he lose them all when he arrived? Did he lose them along the way? This wasn’t right. It wasn’t! He clutched the single Pokeball against his chest, taking deep breaths as he stared at the hole, he dug in an attempt to calm himself down. They were gone. How could he lose them?
His breath sped up as blood rushed through his ears. His left arm arched as needles prickled at his hand, thousands of tiny tips boring inside. He didn’t notice the rattling Pokeball and flash of light that followed after. A form was nudging at him, but he didn’t look up, gaze still focused on the hole in front of him. Gone. Lost. Smooth metal pushed itself against his cheek. He flinched back at the cold; his eyes finally pulled away. He looked at his Klinklang as it rattled with worry. He watched its gears turn, the pattern only his and Emmet’s Klingklang followed, though Emmet’s was mirrored. Ingo screws his eyes shut, lunging at his partner. He hugged it as close to himself as possible.
