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7/24/2025, 8:20:10 PM
7/22/2025, 5:53:05 AM
I frankly can't believe that the guy who made blue prince thought it was a good call to let you hit room 46 and start in on the rest of the mysteries without giving you any good methods of direct control over the house
having to spend 30 hours over the course of a 120+ hour game waiting for circumstances to align because you only have a few avenues of exploration left is NOT good design
having to spend 30 hours over the course of a 120+ hour game waiting for circumstances to align because you only have a few avenues of exploration left is NOT good design
5/5/2025, 5:50:11 AM
>"It's been a rough month for the two of you, I get that." [You're a MOSTLY RELIABLE guy. You do have a little sum of money with you but the Landlord doesn't need to know that.]
"The League breathing down our backs hasn't been making our lives any easier. Those Kantonians think they can push anybody around." The side of his face twitches. You nod with a sort of vague understanding of what he's talking about, but geopolitics, man. It's all Hisuian to you.
"In any case, it's no good for a young man like you to waste away his time in a dark room. Even if it's time well-wasted."
"Listen to my words, Danny. The early morning has gold in its mouth. The world under SUNROSE is a large flat plane of opportunity. Put the time and effort into your plans. Set goals. CEO mindset. Grind never stops."
The Landlord crosses his arms and nods to himself, clearly satisfied by his own voice.
>"We can pay." (You have up to 11,000 Poké on you right now.)
You switch the subject quickly. Listening to this fat old man spew gibberish out of his mouth like an endless fountain of Tauros shit isn't helping your headache.
He looks at you strangely. "All twenty-two thousand?"
"No, but —"
"Shhh. Do you see these, Danny?" The rotund man holds his hands up, in all their roughness and callousness. "My hands are empty, Dan. I want to feel the smoothness of each and every one of those bills with them. No more excuses. I want you to go all the way with this, not, well, half of the way."
His grin widens as if enjoying some supreme joke only he understands. You feel like something is terribly wrong, but then it passes.
"Open it up, sonny." He motions to his oversized Pawniard. He nods and lets out a metallic hiss before pushing past your legs and barging right into your apartment.
You thought it was bad enough waking up, but the morning light shining in from the hallway and the windows reveals it to be much, much worse.
Shirts and clothes strewn everywhere. Garbage bags full and filling up. Bottles and cans everywhere. A empty pizza box enthroned on a pile of unsorted recyclables. The pants that you didn't wear with your shirt. Above it all is the faint smell of rotting Pecha berries and other foodstuff. Weeks of zero effort living in all their glory.
The steel type hazards a few steps in, stops, and shakes his head. The Landlord stands in the doorway, quietly assessing the situation, while the mutt takes in a deep sniff and then whines softly.
You try to find the right words to alleviate the mounting tension, but then Garican opens his mouth before you can.
>GARCIAN: Vomit.
>GARCIAN: Let it eat the pills, too, since Dan said to dump them.
Your mouth is a passageway, a sluice gate opening for the nausea in your gut. The pressure increases, the bitter-black bile taking the express esophageal elevator. It finds salvation in momentum, the liquid propellant charting an escape trajectory.
You puke chunks.
...
Garcian blacked out.
"The League breathing down our backs hasn't been making our lives any easier. Those Kantonians think they can push anybody around." The side of his face twitches. You nod with a sort of vague understanding of what he's talking about, but geopolitics, man. It's all Hisuian to you.
"In any case, it's no good for a young man like you to waste away his time in a dark room. Even if it's time well-wasted."
"Listen to my words, Danny. The early morning has gold in its mouth. The world under SUNROSE is a large flat plane of opportunity. Put the time and effort into your plans. Set goals. CEO mindset. Grind never stops."
The Landlord crosses his arms and nods to himself, clearly satisfied by his own voice.
>"We can pay." (You have up to 11,000 Poké on you right now.)
You switch the subject quickly. Listening to this fat old man spew gibberish out of his mouth like an endless fountain of Tauros shit isn't helping your headache.
He looks at you strangely. "All twenty-two thousand?"
"No, but —"
"Shhh. Do you see these, Danny?" The rotund man holds his hands up, in all their roughness and callousness. "My hands are empty, Dan. I want to feel the smoothness of each and every one of those bills with them. No more excuses. I want you to go all the way with this, not, well, half of the way."
His grin widens as if enjoying some supreme joke only he understands. You feel like something is terribly wrong, but then it passes.
"Open it up, sonny." He motions to his oversized Pawniard. He nods and lets out a metallic hiss before pushing past your legs and barging right into your apartment.
You thought it was bad enough waking up, but the morning light shining in from the hallway and the windows reveals it to be much, much worse.
Shirts and clothes strewn everywhere. Garbage bags full and filling up. Bottles and cans everywhere. A empty pizza box enthroned on a pile of unsorted recyclables. The pants that you didn't wear with your shirt. Above it all is the faint smell of rotting Pecha berries and other foodstuff. Weeks of zero effort living in all their glory.
The steel type hazards a few steps in, stops, and shakes his head. The Landlord stands in the doorway, quietly assessing the situation, while the mutt takes in a deep sniff and then whines softly.
You try to find the right words to alleviate the mounting tension, but then Garican opens his mouth before you can.
>GARCIAN: Vomit.
>GARCIAN: Let it eat the pills, too, since Dan said to dump them.
Your mouth is a passageway, a sluice gate opening for the nausea in your gut. The pressure increases, the bitter-black bile taking the express esophageal elevator. It finds salvation in momentum, the liquid propellant charting an escape trajectory.
You puke chunks.
...
Garcian blacked out.
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