So, being completely honest here, I’ve been playing Splatoon pretty obsessively all week. As such, I was considering just not doing this Fanfiction Fridays and playing more, but I’m pretty sure all the authors would kill me. Or at least give me the worst looks, and I can’t stand to be looked at with anything less than devotion and reverence. Since I wasn’t really into reading fic on the inner turmoil of being both a squid and a kid, I decided to look toward another game I’ve also been getting into: Fallout.
I must have made a wish on a lucky star to begin my Fallout journey preceding the Fallout 4 announcement in such a timely manner, but then again, not like the East Coast by way of Boston is going to do much for me when I’m getting destroyed by frying deathclaws in the Mojave. Soon after starting I knew New Vegas was going to be my installment of choice, what with its actually-gray morality, interesting story that starts off with the player getting shot in the head and killed, and brainwashing me by playing “Big Iron” by Marty Robbins five hundred times in a row. However, when faced between the two main groups—one which literally deals in slavery and the patriarchy, and the other on-the-surface only mildly corrupt and doing the best they can—it’s east to lose a sense of that gray morality. So, while I wouldn’t have guessed it going into things, today’s fic takes a very interesting look into the life of Caesar’s Legion (aforementioned slavers). It’s most interesting because it features a woman.
“Oh, he might have went on living, but he made one fatal slip: when he tried to match the stranger with the big iron on his hip. Big iron on his—” someone make it stop, please. I’m begging you.
Well, that might be a little strong. I heartily dislike Dona. Having played through Final Fantasy X-2 before the original, I always thought she was a little off-putting. Not that I expect every character to get along with the protagonists, but there was just something about her that rubbed me the wrong way. This feeling only continues to grow as I watch the events of Final Fantasy X unfold in more recent times.
Antagonistic characters are my bread and butter, but Dona never really felt like she had a solid reason for all of her bitterness and outright hatred toward Yuna. Sure, there’s the jealousy toward Yuna’s heritage and the bitterness that everything seemed to be handed to Yuna on a silver platter, but these are all inferred. The game more or less makes Dona the token bitch of the game only for the sake of conflict; a conflict that didn’t really need to exist, narratively speaking. Dona never really prods Yuna to do anything—the conflict is one-sided and directed toward Dona, and since we don’t get to see Dona’s character growth it’s all pretty much pointless.
I don’t typically go looking for fanfic of characters I dislike: I went out looking this week for a family fic about Rikku and Yuna, to be completely honest. But lo and behold, fate had me stumble upon owlmoose’s Rebuild. I’m pleased to say that this fic fills in a lot of holes that the games left. Continue reading →
Howdy, readers! How would you like an adventure story for today? A story full of intrigue and political plots? A story that’s almost as confusing as the canon it comes from? Then grab a seat and get ready to hear about the most intense Homestuck fanfic I’ve ever read.
The art comes with the story: score!
Authors urbanAnchorite and schellibie’s (of ‘Promstuck’ fame) epic happens in a universe where the trolls never meet the human kids, and SGRUB is never played. They grow up as normal—though they still know each other—and move on to their respective jobs as dictated by their hemocaste. The Serendipity Gospels takes a step back from the more rancorous of the group twelve and follows after legislatcerator-in-training, Terezi Pyrope, alongside her assigned charge, Gamzee Makara. Upon the Executor, the ship where both their castes will be taught their place in Alternian society, the separation of church and law appear to be finite, though intertwined deeper than one would immediately assume from a religious institution that is run by juggalos who are stereotypically always high. Although the subjuggalators, the ‘warriors’ of the church, have more power, their murderous rampages are kept under strict supervision by the ever-watching eyes of the legislacerators. To no one’s surprise, Terezi excels at her position; in contrast with that is everyone’s lack of surprise at how awfully Gamzee fails at his. The problem they must address is that if Gamzee fails his final exams, so to speak, so does Terezi: both a corporate death and an actual death may be waiting for them should this happen.