#ultimatereward

“Heh. Boy, isn’t that a familiar question. I bet there isn’t a single replayer over, say, five sessions that hasn’t asked that, either to themselves or to someone else. 

“Yeah, Sburb isn’t the best place. It’s tough. Grinds you down. It’ll kill you if you aren’t on the ball, and I’ve got the scars to prove it. It’s not all bad, though. It used to be a lot worse, from before the IRC was a thing. No one could know if anyone from their session survived or died or what. Nothing lasted past the door.

“Now, though? You can keep in touch with the people you love. There’s always a possibility, however small, that you’ll roll with them again. Until then, you can at least talk. It’s not perfect, but it’s something.

“And there’s parts in the game that aren’t that bad, either. Some of the aspects are a fucking joy to experience. No, I don’t know if Joy is, in fact, a joy to experience. I recommend bugging Kamila about it. Blood, Might, Flow, Light, Rain… I liked Doom, too, but that’s more of a me thing than Doom being a genuinely fun aspect to play, I think. 

“And there’s the Door. Yes, I can see your expression. Yeah, the door’s busted. Or at least, it is now. The game’s constantly changing. New aspects are being slotted in, as are new classes. And there’s evidence that there was changes before, the most infamous being the Clown class. So that means there’s someone working on the game. So maybe, just maybe, someone will take a look and see we’re all trapped here, and suddenly all the doors stop being broken and we can finally enter the door and go to our universes and rest.

Hard to pick out just one important memory from your first session. Picking your way through the Land of Ruins and Jungles and Frogs.  Frog hunting with your best bro. Hanging out with your friends. The joy that the other human in the tower finally, finally woke up.  Finding out that the girl you had a crush on was, in fact, your sister. Your first death, which spawned a hatred of Rocs that continues to this day. Tiering and discovering that the Bane tier was pretty fucking awesome, even if your coplayers insisted on calling the ears “cute”.  Wiping out the Black King.

And then you walked through the door and never saw them again.

Years in the future, but not many…

Or no wait, never mind, it is many.

You’ve been at this longer than you can imagine. You’re no longer just a human, you’re practically an urban myth. A legend. A mythological hero. Someone with countless sessions.

Your ship, a golden Prospit dreadnought because you suggested it and all of your coplayers were in too much awe to disagree, slides into the session bubble. Straight away, someone would notice this isn’t a normal session. Normal sessions don’t have several Derses. Or several rings of lands. There’s dozens of lands from dozens of sessions. With a flick and a surge of the World, you add your session’s to the rotation. 

Rumor had it that the Dream godtier cloth was transparent. See through. You’re not sure if you believe that. You were Dream once, Smith of, a handful of sessions ago, but you never tiered. And while Dream does have all those glass constructs, surely the programmers wouldn't be that stupid.

Your name is EVE SPECTOR. You are a native BANE OF SPACE and you have NINETEEN SESSIONS under your belt. You dress in LOOSE CLOTHING, usually a hoodie, t-shirt, and jeans. You wear a KNIT CAP over your shoulder-length, dark brown hair.

Your body has been described as “LITHE”, “ATHLETIC”, and “SCARRED TO HELL AND BACK”. You don’t mind your scars; in fact, you LIKE them. It shows that you’re TOUGH, and you’ve BEEN THROUGH A LOT and you’re STILL KICKING, carving up in the front line with BLADEKIND and SUBMACHINEGUNKIND. Each one is a story, which you’ll GLADLY TELL to anyone who asks.

Except for the CROSSED SCARS ON YOUR CHEEK. Anyone who asks gets stony silence, anyone who pushes gets to SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Fighting isn’t all you do, though, even though that’s what you’re good at. You like to PLAY GUITAR, especially HARD ROCK and HEAVY METAL. You can also be found with your nose in a GOOD BOOK, usually fantasy of some sort. You also like to play VIDEO GAMES, although you haven’t had time as of late. And, of course, what Spector would you be if you didn’t enjoy SPENDING TIME with HANDSOME GENTLEMEN, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

You REFUSE TO GO INTO THE UNDERWORLD for reasons you REFUSE TO DISCLOSE. Some might hazard that it has something to do with YOUR EYES, which are ALWAYS HIDDEN behind a PAIR OF INDIGO SHADES.

Your handle is adamantArtemis, and you tend to speak frankly, although you can get emotional at times.