Tower City Lunatic (SI) (Fear and Hunger then Danmachi Crossover)

AN - a weird amount of Metal Gear solid talk considering I've only played the one with Venom snake, but I like the comment and I think MGS2 is a better thrown out reference than a Space Odyssey, The Matrix, or Terminator.

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June 10th 1924
18 years before Termina
Valland

'You are the bearer of the submissive soul.'

I am trapped in utter blackness, in an utterly unfamiliar situation and a mysterious voice is calling me out?

'The Soul of Submission can be derided but every soul has its own strength. The branch that bends easily, does not break. While some contend with the tides of Fate bearers of this soul find surrender bearing them to their destination. By working with the flow, those blessed with favorable tides are blessed, but those in unfavorable situations can become trapped lacking resistance.'

I want to quirk up a lip, as I feel rather incredulous?

Is that the right word? I feel as though a monk is talking down to me, and simultaneously roasting me while offering advice.

But my face feels. Off. My body feels strained like I can't react as I'm... Pinched by darkness.

'This world is uncompromising, and you very well may die with the advantages you already possess. So, young one. As long as you wish to persist, your soul will remain in this world, 3 chances, 3 lives. This life is yours to prepare for the next life.'

Blurry vision, I gasp for air, I feel limp, weak, covered in something-

"Ha- August. Look. Our baby. A boy. Our little man ha..."

Fallout out 3 fucking shit.

A squeaky child-like groan leaves my lips. It sounds like a babble or a particularly weak baby cry.

"Erik. I am your Father. Ah my son."

The masculine voice speaks, my brain catches on the name.

Erik is kind of an OC I made, more so a tabletop character-semantics aside I think I glean what the voice meant now.

This is a world for adventurers, some form of fantasy world…?

Perhaps Orden, I've only brought him to one module so far but I planned to recycle him since I love Necromancer style characters and the Draw Steel system having a dedicated class for doing it is peak.

If you're not in the know, well it feels like most games farm out necromancy to a few spells or a half hearted subclass-but that is not quite important yet probably.

I wrote it so he grew up in a church or nunnery, then got access to some kind of hidden forbidden archive. So I expect that question to clear up.

But for now. I think I'll sleep this off... Newborn stuff well, I suspect I am going to get very familiar and very tired of it.

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November 22nd 1924
18 years before Termina
Valland Family Homestead

"My dear, I've been meaning to ask. Erik has been checked by the pediatrician, and… well is perhaps the world's most well behaved baby in the world. I've begun to set my mind to my pursuits."

My new universe Dad begins talking to the new Mom before he hushes his voice such that I have to strain to hear.

"--- man --- I --- obligation --- its unlike before. Something has forced his hand. It's a bad omen."

He 'has' to do something. Something he had promised to do even if it meant leaving a wife and child in our village cottage.

A hero's quest?...

"August. I know you are serious. You do not easily show such worry. I understand it's a burden you willingly take, as it's how you were raised. Do you not think the aristocracy will suppress him?"

Huh. Some kind of political upheaval...

It's something of a self report but my mind kind of blanks at politics, the only thing I can think of is Northern Duke sexy man type things.

I didn't even read too many of those... I had a short kick of that kind of thing after I tried the Remarried Empress one.

"Justine... This man... He is beyond conventional men's grasp. My family." August places a hand over his chest before looking at me and taking a deep breath. "Our family... Has hunted this man through the generations. He has killed and used up people, innocent bystanders, those loyal to him. It's firm in my mind his new scheme is but the newest and greatest danger of a poisoned mind."

Scratch that. Belmont type shit? Sipha or Forgemaster type shit is kind of cool. Shame I never checked on the second Netflix season.

Dad does faintly seem like Julius? The one from the Soma game? This is from infant eyes so perhaps he is his ancestor?

Then my Mother asks an almost innocent question which makes me a statue stunned in silence. "Will you go to Bremen then?"

Bremen? August- a man in Bremen, not a man, a God. A cross between Hitler and Griffith.

The enigmatic "Kaiser" aka L'garde. Before he becomes super Hitler, in the timeline.

I cast my mind back to videos-no it was a post of some kind by Miro or reposted to reddit or something. We have art or well in the universe; it's a picture of Kaiser looking like a 'metal gear character.'

God that metal gear comment of him in a trench coat like thing. That comment probably is almost certainly why I remember it...

My dad is August. The voice-ROB. Termina...

They sent me to Termina? And my curse or my blessing is that I can 'persist.' 3 locked rings, like the Olympic symbol on my wrist. A brand, a symbol. One no one has ever commented on, no one has ever mentioned or inspected.

I only played Termina for maybe half an hour after looking up the O'saa intro choices and fumbling through his intro.

But I watched enough challenge runs of the first game to have an idea of useful things.

Pinecone Pig being goated among other things is up in the air. I can't be certain that it works like in the game where you can brute force infinite value. I mean an actual time limit instead of a 'soft' save limit would certainly turn the infinite to occasional value.

Information is a definite advantage. I think the way Fear and Hunger was designed to be played was to die and die until you could scrape together enough working knowledge to have a chance to die to unfair bullshit.

In the games I subscribed and advised a friend who briefly streamed the first game that slow and sure, defend into extra turn attack gameplay was surefire.

In Termina I think the meta was the hardened heart, life steal, counter strategy...

I think a flesh and blood person might struggle to replicate that. Flinching, getting the shit beat out of you only to lash out after seems like stuff you'd need perfect calm like a 'gamer system' to have mental fortitude to soak the damage.

Ultimately, or well the first thing I should focus on preparation wise, is making notes and running.

Being physically active and able to run from the horrors... Well when other plans fail. The Call of Cthulhu special keeps you alive I guess.

Damn. Mind reading is a thing in setting. I've got to find an Atton mental defense trick to run interference in my own head... Pazack, Pazak?... Won't work. Ugh, how do you even discover your own version of this?

---

October 1930
12 years before Termina
Valland Village

"You can say that I have deeeeeep pockets, allow me to show you my poppet~" it's many shades of weird and uncomfortable role-playing Pocket Cat even during a childish game of tag.

But imitating the monster is useful in getting these kids to run their hearts out, in turn making me try harder.

It's also a shade of weird and uncomfortable growing up again. I'm honestly pretty grateful to have things to plan ahead for...

I'd be lazy and bored to a different sort of madness.

Instead I'm weirdly fastidious about doing things with both hands to try and build up some ambidexterity. I play physical games with the local kids for cardio. Lastly I've set myself to trying to sketch.

Ritual circles eventually being important to get right freaks me out a little bit.

Rather than work from rulers, I'm just trying to get good with my hands I guess.

"I've got you now my dear! There you are 'it!'" My voice is a monstrous rasp as my hand lands on their back, I turn on a dime and peel away.

Honestly. Despite how it's all. Pressure in the back of my mind. I can't help but feel like surviving Termina is absurd.

I mean. I guess a party of heroes is plausible.

It's just with all this worry I'm assigning the future, despite my attempts of becoming a kind of 'Renaissance Man' in my second life there are all kinds of road bumps.

Getting a limb lopped off is logistically a problem. One handed dealing with a backpack, reloading a pistol, problems all the way down.

With foresight I can maybe rig up some kind of harness or holster set up with peel off or pop off metal buttons that click like Legos, assuming that innovation exists. But as much as I can hang off my belt, or chest pockets, ultimately 'winning Termina' will probably eventually force you to fight from such a stark position of mounting disadvantage.

"Helena is it!" The kids call out, which I suspect I may have trained or inspired that habit by using the skill 'lying to children' and saying I'm not it.

From my memories of my brief Yellow Mage playthrough. I pushed to the Mayor's manor, and a certain degree into the early game to get a magic build's foundation set, then I kind of just lost interest.

So I'm rather aware that ultimately, I am lacking. The trails of Termina, I'm only vaguely aware of, not that it's too much of a problem mind. There was a looming update for the game I will not be able to experience in modern luxury through a screen, but I wouldn't be surprised to find the world is the world so things I can't account for are certain.

"Erik! I'm gonna get you!" Helena chases me up a tree, she takes up the gauntlet and begins to chase me up forcing me to jump off and tumble into a roll kicking up and scattering autumn leaves as some stick to me.

Although it's more experience in handling short falls, I end up in no position to run as I'm re-tagged.

"Huff. Huff. It should be a rule you can't tag back. I just got done chasing you." There's no heat in my argument, but rather a soft sort of adult incredulity of getting it passed back.

"Nuh uh, you got tagged." Iron clad childish logic rebounds my criticism with churlish effortlessness.

"Then it's hide and seek. 'Cuz I don't want to run after you. 100. 99." Although, obviously, I don't quite get along with the kids since the monster roleplay and my general adult standoffishness, even if I'm still the chaser I can at least negotiate to keep a game going.

"You've got to say Shillings after a number! No cheating. Hide! Everyone hide!" As Helena runs off I scoff softly and count from the top.

"100 Shillings." Which I suppose is a decent enough replacement for 'Mississippi.'

"90 Shillings." Now that it's been thrown in my face. I wonder what words non Americans use that are roughly a second to say?

"70 shilli-" my counting interrupted as I heard a twig snap.

Not right…

If someone hadn't heard the swap to hide and seek me counting was a give away?

I open my eyes expecting to see an animal but instead.

Tall.

Basketball player height, in cavalry boots? Light almost faded purplish pink.

It's face? A rotund bulging cartoonish cat mask.

"Charming little games children play. Don't you agree?" With an utterly sweat-inducing poise Pocket Cat's hand moves with a faint flourish "conjuring up monsters with nary a care, so so innocent."

Alone. Had it waited for this moment, in the nearby woods and for me to be alone in a moment like this?

"Oh dear~ you are making me so very sad. I didn't come all this way to frighten you sweetling. Well~ just to frighten you." With a husky purr their voice trails towards a more intimate turn as before it dips into actual kittenish purring.

Not just reading my face. My mind

"What sort of answer did you want? Feigned intimacy? For me to call you 'pookie?'" I exhale a shaky breath as I focus on Pocket Cat.

'Think stupid thoughts. Useful thoughts are the enemy. We aren't playing a fair game.'

"Feigned!? Ugh such a sour reaction. If there is any lie between us I would say it's you acting as though you are utterly immune to my charms. I saw your poor performance, all just to get their hearts racing no love of the role itself." Pocket Cat huffs and crosses their arms as they turn their mask appearing oddly petulant.

"Well I can't claim to have lied about being a child of darkness or loving you." Lines we are both aware of.

Pocket Cat as some 'higher dimensional' being was so much more aware... He also has the upper hand of experience in talks disjointed over reality.

"Ah I see. That brings some things into focus. Now I can't help but wonder what you want with all that knowledge brimming inside you~" his hips playful sway as he steps closer now plainly past the tree he was hovering near.

Is that his game? Information exchange?

Will he accept the handshake?

"Suppose it was for you to 'give the moon to me.' What then? What would I gain? What does 'your side' even want out of all this?" I feel a certain coldness, a tense anxiety probing like this.

Although he has 'rules' from up top. I can't help but be conscious of the danger of this gamble.

Bringing a hand to the bottom of his mask where a chin would be it muses "so much context, and for what. To beg for the teacher to hand feed an answer? Tsk tsk. To think of your existence here, transgression that it is would be so... Lacking."

I frown softly. An act possibly. The kind of questions he wants me to ask can incidentally tip my hand.

"You censored your own book, yes? Surely you won't begrudge me a lack of information. Or is it your newest perverse pleasure to throw some line at me like 'curiosity killed the cat.' As if the proverb doesn't end with 'satisfaction brought him back.' What game of checkers could be had with a board barely 3 tiles wide! Politely offer some rope to hang yourself with or stop complaining." I let my mouth speak as the thoughts come, if you expect your opponent to know your cards, holding them close to your chest is just useless cope.

I mean I guess there's a double bluff of just making me feel pressured without pressuring me to achieve some scheme. Make me pliable to a deal like I already alluded too?

"Ahaha you have the social grace of a battering ram~ you have everything you need to grasp the nature of my Master. But you are so locked up you won't even think of it in my presence. How delightful, to think should I stand before you I could put such firm blinders over your eyes. Tell me~ how much do I scare you~?"

Badly. Bad things could happen. Don't give him ideas.

"A lot. The wiggle room in your rules to escort a lady in the wheel chair comes to mind. Nothing is scarier to me than the idea you are less restricted than you appear."

With a delighted titter, Pocket Cat tilts his head back and gazes down at me, his mask's eyes suddenly glimmering with a cat's night vision like a flash of yellow subdued and... Predatory?

"Under the moon, when humans are ever so emboldened to bare their true selves, you take solace that I can't? You think me undeserving of the liberty that petty, awful little humans revel in?" His intense gaze makes me sweat as his tone remains carefully contained almost like a coiled spring as he builds up the tension. "How delightfully cruel. I think I could call you one of my well beloved companions."

What the fuck even is this guy. "So, does that mean you're going to try and spin me a yarn like some of the paranoid people who say Logic is secretly bad?" If I was to pull some shit that's what I'd do. Probably pulling some Shin Megami Tensei anti-law shit out of my ass. In the case of that game, bashing God's not so perfect order for it's stifling homogenous rigidity is the norm.

Loyalty is easier if they are, if not a believer, inclined to see your enemy as a problem.

The question is, does Logic become an overly restrictive controlling system that white washes the world to oblivion?

That seems counter to what's her name's vibe. Terrorist freedom fighter, and a scientist. Probably smarter than me actually.

I continue "I don't think Logic is necessarily a danger. Even if I'm wrong. The way Gods go around here, they are kind of flash in the pan. Her influence will wane."

"Do you not have examples from your own world as to how all that rot will turn out?" The smug cat replies easily.

How vague. Fishing? Perhaps it is not as well read on my world or what I know?

"Does this world not have fiction of the concept until it exists in the green?" That is something of a reach, but this isn't my universe.

The global nature of the concepts 'Fear and Hunger' changed for humans due to the green and divine influence. The green perhaps might be the source of magic like 'the Fade' in dragon age.

There is in fact a 'realm of concepts' or 'thought' and it trickles down into other things.

Although. It's kind of arrogant to assume it's easy to mess with. God's are the heavy hitters, best I can do is drops in a ocean.

"Now you deign to show me your true face I see. All caught up in the haze of contemplation. Struck dumb by the crushing weight of thought." As Pocket Cat drawls I get distracted by their coy response.

"Motherfucker you are wearing a mask right now. 'True face-' like you have any room to judge." I flush slightly unable to keep a tight lock on my composure as I snap.

Somehow in response to my outburst he rolls the eyes of his mask.

"'Why does a soda fountain need an internet connection.' You come from a world with a 'Unabomber' if you aren't convinced by that, well what could I do to change that. You were utterly immersed in a world that could give you all the context you need. Perhaps you would feel differently if you played Metal Gear Solid 2."

"Literal Psycho Mantis cosplay." I blankly critique him, my voice steady as he is strangely good at finding arguments I can see if not agree with.

Social intelligence? Ugh. I thought about SMT as an allegory, he read that, and wove it into his arguments. Tailored to me. Targeted.

At my thoughts or just the silence he shakes his head and lifts his arms palms facing up as he shrugs. "Although you might find this surprising. I was simply curious about you~ meet the neighbors, all my intentions are quite tame I assure you, by both our definitions of tame withhold your accusations please~. But let's pretend you and I aren't so different~ and we don't have to be at cross purposes..." With a delicate rumble his mask seems to smile wider as he pushes his hand deep into his pockets and digs around.

"Where did I put... Ah there." With an impish giggle they withdraw a golden yellow almost resident evil or cartoonish key strung on a chain. "I have many doubts. But lets say you grow into a person, with wants, desires, and the will to have your own voice rather than one authored for you. You can come find me, and share the winding path of your personal greed, kindness, whatever you deem worthy of my personal attention as you craft your very own S Ending. An open offer, with no time limit. I have the funniest feeling you will have seen all the good that can come from a mutually beneficial arrangement~."

Part of me wonders if I could lose the key if I wanted to. Drop it and pray it never comes find me.

"Well I am certain you will come to see my way of things one day, for now tata~ delicacies to taste, connections to maintain, vessels to groom~ Ah I am ever so busy." with that utterly obscene farewell his steps seem to almost elongate as he doesn't run so much as force the world around him to make haste as he slips through the brush with only ripples of green.

I look at my left wrist where the 3 interlocked rings are and I can't help but measure the margins in my head.

I could run out of chances... I could die and NEED him, even if it costs this world something.

If I'm sent off to 40k or Worm can I confidently assert I won't ever need it, well.

A deal with a devil.

I slip it around my neck and walk off into the woods.

At least it won't be unusual for me to be quiet or downcast. I'm not in the mood for hide and seek, funnily enough.

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AN - I was worried that I rushed some character content here, but as a writing exercise I wanted Pocket Cat to jump scare.

Art by my brother, Erik the Draw Steel Necromancer, who uh is sort of an OC in my head.