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psssst, don't tell anyone but the secret sauce of getting your players invested in your TTRPG is to make likeable (or hateable) characters that care about whatever's going on in the plot. Humans are social creatures, and we'll pack bond with anything INCLUDING fictional entities.
You're afraid to write because you care too much about your craft. Not because you suck.
You want it to be perfect. Worthy. You're scared it won't be good enough. But the thing is, everything you write is worthy if you write it with heart.
That fear doesn't make you a fraud, or lazy. It makes you a perfectionist who doesn't write as much as they should because their fear is choking them. Your writing will never be perfect—nothing ever is.
So stop waiting for the perfect moment and go pour your heart out. Unleash your wild—and slightly disturbing—imagination onto those pages. Go create magic that only you can make.
GO WRITE THE THING YOU KEEP THINKING ABOUT DAY AND NIGHT. And make sure you write it for yourself before anyone else!
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Obviously Anya is adopted. We all know this. She knows this. She loves her family but knows it is incredibly fragile.
But unlike most adoption stories (say Natsume Yuujinchou) Anya is not adopted into a loving functional family who's main goal is to support and love her until she heals from all the hurt she has been through.
Because Everyone in their family is adopted.
Yor enters thinking she is entering an existing family dynamic of a man and his daughter. She is the step mother, eagerly wanted but a definite outsider. She does not know about how they lost Loid's first wife. They both Never mention her but Anya clearly has Huge feelings about her Mommy that she cannot touch. Because Loid refuses to acknowledge her. Which means she's not allowed to.
She's a wife brought in to solve a problem. The fact she adores Anya and loves Loid (eventually) doesn't make her any less of an outsider from her perspective. To Yor she's the adopted family member.
Meanwhile Loid, the one who brought them all together almost instantly finds himself on the outside of the family. He works too much and doesn't make it home for dinner frequently. He struggles to connect with his 'daughter' and wife. Can't understand either of them despite constant efforts. Something incredibly distressing for him.
Yor instantly connects with this child when he struggled to hold her hand in public. In his eyes Yor and Anya are a family and he is the outsider only there for the mission. The man who is destined to Not be there. He too often fills the role of the outside child brought into a happy family. One he constantly feels he is fumbling or failing. (If I'm not good, if i'm not perfect- my family will leave me. So I have to be. I have to figure out how to be better)
They are a family of adopted members all holding so tightly to each other. Each one of them chooses the others over and over again. Struggles against their own limitations and fears to be a part of a family they're all terrified to really call their own.
But it is that choice that makes them a family. Not blood or marriage or any certificate. That they all keep trying to be a family to the others. I'll be a good girl and study hard Papa. I'll be a good wife, I'll play my role well so don't abandon me. I'll be a good father and husband, I will try to be a good husband and father if you both will just stay with me. Please. I will figure out how.
the concept of how sir arthur conan doyle was as a person always sends me into fits. imagine making the most famous literary character of all time but you hate the character so much you try to kill him off. but everyone is so horny for this asshole detective they make you bring him back. even your own mother gets mad when he’s dead because she likes him. raising your prices to ridiculous rates to avoid writing holmes stories backfired and now you’re rich. it’s absolutely a pain because it’s keeping you from your true passion which is spiritualism despite how one of your good friends harry houdini keeps telling you it’s bullshit. you consider your best novels to be historical ones but they’re well over shadowed by the nemesis of your own creation sherlock fucking holmes. some fake photographs from some kids convinced you faeries were real and you wrote a whole book about it. you started writing stories in medical school. and yes, also you are a doctor. after you’re dead, they erect a statue of sherlock holmes across the street from your birthplace, causing you to probably roll over one hundred eighty degrees in your grave and scream into your casket pillow.
Hiromu Arakawa’s genius is obvious throughout all of FMA but her first and biggest leap of genius was in how she crafted her protagonist.
Arakawa realized the burgeoning youth of the early 2000s wasnt interested in another plucky spry optimistic young shonen protag. Instead she gave us a short ugly egotistical asshole smarter-than-you atheist with so much money and power that people could no longer best him in arguments by telling him “dude shut up ur literally like 12″
Five pages in we’re told Edward’s famous and rich and powerful. Five more pages and he’s calling some girl stupid for thinking God exists. Five more pages and he’s proven right. Five more and he’s kicked an evil priest’s teeth in. And no one can tell his mom on him.
Hiromu Arakawa figured out the dream of every edgy young weeb discovering internet arguments for the first time and she cast them an idol made of gold.
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“For example, if you’re trying to convince people to boycott a segregated store, your object is to convince them that boycotting the store will have a strategic effect, not that desegregation is morally important. For whatever reason, on a cognitive level human beings have a really hard time with this. Smucker cites an example of a Lefty roleplaying session where people were tasked with selling an action to people who agreed with them on principle but didn’t see the strategic merit of the action. Surprisingly, the sellers couldn’t make the conceptual switch to sell strategic merit: instead, they doubled down on THIS ISSUE IS IMPORTANT — even though it had been stressed to them that the people they were selling to bought into the importance of the issue. People react poorly to “this is important, so do WHATEVER I SAY”; they want to be convinced that what you’re proposing will work.”
“Bob Wing, a grassroots organizer, explains this nicely: “If winning feels impossible, then righteousness can seem like the next best thing.” But righteousness is not conducive to getting normies to join your team if your team cannot demonstrate ability to, at least sometimes, win. Nor does righteousness help you make real inroads with regular people.”
like, the most compelling ships for me always stem out of one thing: the characters have a profound, ongoing effect on each other’s senses of selves. when they are apart, the characters’ actions are still affected by each other. the way they approach the world changes because of the other.
which is this deeply Austenian view of ideal romantic relationships as mechanisms by which we come to know ourselves better and become better versions of ourselves. good romance, for me, is always tied in with a sense of self-actualization, and the way in which a beloved partner allows a person to know themselves better.
Bear religion probably fucking rocks. You're a fucking bear, you're the deadliest thing on earth, once a year an endless supply of salmon just flings itself up the river to gorge on and then you nap for 3 months.
The most delicious food in the world is protected by tiny demons who can defend it from everyone except you. Your natural armor is thick enough that you can just eat the damn hive while they buzz around you. God's chosen animals right there
Regular bears tell stories of angel bears sent by the Bear God, pure white and twice as strong as any normal bear could be, who rule the summit of the Earth and kill all who stand in their path.
And they are right, those bears exist and totally do that. Humans just have fake angels as a cope.
love the idea of bears being the chosen species actually. having a near death experience and glimpsing heaven and realising it's just full of bears, no humans at all, humans not ensouled actually, humans an accidental byproduct of God's plan for bears
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But, one issue that has remained unaddressed throughout the entirety of the LOZ canon and apocrypha is the lack of a royal mint.
This implies that rupees are a commodity (a physical material that has value) rather than a fiat currency (a currency not backed by a commodity but by faith in a specific government that ensure it's value).
Most modern governments use Fiat currencies because:
"Fiat money isn't a scarce or fixed resource like gold so central banks have much greater control over its supply. This gives them the power to manage economic variables such as credit supply, liquidity, interest rates, and money velocity." [1]
We can see evidence of Hyrulean government's failure to manage their economy during the runaway inflation of Wind's era
This graph depicts the price to buy an arrow in each specific era of the Legend of Zelda games. The price of arrows between Wind Waker and Phantom Hourglass jumped by two rupees and arrow, indicating inflation.
The Origin of Rupees
So if Hyrule's Royal Family isn't minting rupees, where do they come from?
The Hyrule Compendium entry for blupees mentions that "these peculiar little things have a penchant for collecting rupees" but the identity of the compendium's author is unverified and so is their research.
The unregulated nature of Hyrule's commodities-based currency becomes a problem in Tears of the Kingdom, when Koltin asks Link to slaughter all 167 bubbelfrogs.
The life cycle of blupees, bubbelfrogs, and the King of the Mountain requires further study but it is evident that when a blubbelfrog is killed, a blupee is generated. So Link's quest to collect bubbelgems introduces 167 more blupees into Hyrule's ecosystem. These 167 extra blupees eat, drink, and more importantly to us, shit.
So how much did this quest impact Hyrule's economy? To answer that question, some math is required.
The first number we need is the average amount of rupees that blupees shit. To determine this, I shot 30 blupees and fitted the resulting data to a standard distribution.
Blupees Moneybags Georg who shat 51 rupees was an outlier who should not be counted and thus was removed from the dataset.
Multiplying that average amount of rupees that blupees shit by the blupee population [2], gives us the amount of rupees being shat in hyrule.
As you can see, a lot more rupees are being generated during the events of Tears of the Kingdom than in Breath of the Wild. How big of a problem is this? Well, to answer that, we need to know the size of Hyrule's economy.
The Size of Hyrule's Economy
I deciding to determine the size of economy by collecting the prices of every item sold in Hyrule by every merchant (except Ramella, I forgot Ramella).
With the collected price data, we are able to estimate the amount of currency changing hands among the people of Hyrule every year.
So after all this, we can see that the amount of rupees being shat per year should cause significant inflation. And yet, you may recall from our first graph, the price of arrows hasn't significantly changed and neither has the cost of most goods and services across Hyrule with some limited exceptions.
So why aren't prices skyrocketing?
Because the Great Fairies act as the Federal Reserve. They regulate the economy by removing varying amounts of money from circulation via their enchanting services.
In Breath of the Wild, the Great Fairies collectively charge Link 11,600 rupees to wake all 4 great fairies.
In Tears of the Kingdom, they charge Link per individual item of clothing enchanted. This, in total, costs 78,280 rupees.
Accounting for a target 2% rate of inflation, the Great Fairies remove 3.28% of all rupees shat during Breath of the Wild. In Tears of the Kingdom, their rupee removal rate is 5.17% of all rupees being shat.
The Great Fairies are definitely removing less rupees than are being shat but most blupees inhabit far-flung locations that most Hyruleans are not venturing to in these chaotic times. I have confidence that the Great Fairies can adjust their rate of currency removal should the need arise.
But who is attempting to cause this inflation and why?
One thing has always bugged me about Tears of the Kingdom, it wasn't the emptiness of the depths, or the fact that it was easy to miss out on the paraglider, or even the fact that that one cutscene kept being repeated after every temple. It was that Koltin asks you, Link, to go on a rampage of ecological destruction, to hunt the species of Bubbelfrogs to Extinction.
Koltin is clearly passionate about his quest to become a Satori, but he also has a secondary motive, to help out his brother: Kilton.
Kilton started his own currency that competes directly with the rupee and admits as much.
Kolton recruits Link under false pretenses in order to destroy the Bubbelfrog population, increase the amount of blupees, and cause skyrocketing inflation. This would devalue the rupee and incentivize the adoption of mon as a currency.
In the end, Koltins crimes caught up with him and Link helped the Great Fairies stabilize the economy, but Kilton is still out there and who knows what he has planned next.
i know we’re both just messing around pretending to be whole but look at me. if the train was coming would you move. if the ground was falling from under your feet would you even notice or would it just be another tuesday for you. if somebody stabbed you could it hurt worse than you already do. what i’m saying is that i love you but i think we both drive over the speed limit when it’s raining. what i’m saying is that i want to hold your hand and i understand about how you sometimes have to sit down in the shower. what i’m saying is that i’m here for you and if the train comes please move.
i wrote this 7 years ago, somehow. every day someone else finds it and whispers to me - oh, i understand this. something always turns in the wash of my stomach: i am so, so glad you feel seen. i wish you had no idea what this post was about.
i wrote this while working in a program for new writers. on wednesdays, two of the teachers would be contractually obligated to read our writing aloud to the group of 300+ teens. i had never read my work in public before. i had something like 6k poems and was panicking about it. none of them are good enough. sometimes the train is howling. it is hard, actually, sometimes, even as an adult.
and then i thought - what is one thing i wish i could tell all of them. each of these 300 kids. what did i need to hear, at 16?
i wanted to tell them about the day you wake up, and the sun feels warm finally. i wanted to tell them about carving a life out of soapstone, your hands turning bloody. i wanted to tell them that sometimes yes - it actually does feel easy. i wanted to tell them about weddings and cookie dough and long road trips. about albums of new music and old friends laughing and the sound of snow falling.
you will learn the pattern of the train. you will learn to close your eyes when you hear the engine rumbling. you will learn to let yourself have the grey days in their lily-soft numbness. sometimes it will feel like life is wet paint, and god has smeared your canvas across a sewer grate. sometimes it will be so boring it isn’t even pronounceable - the tenacious, soundless blankness. survival isn’t just ugly nights and wild mornings. it is also the steady, unimportant moments. it is just driving with your seatbelt on. it is calling a friend on the way home. it is burying your face into the fur of your dog.
when i had finished reading this poem aloud, the auditorium was silent for a solid minute. someone stood up to take a picture of where it had been projected onto a screen, and then three more people followed the action, and then - like a bad internet story, people remembered they were supposed to be clapping. kids came up to me after it - thank you for writing that. i think i hear a train coming.
i would write this differently now, i think, but it has been 7 years. i still live by the tracks. i also haven’t picked up a blade in over 10 years. the scars are still there, but these days i only pick up scissors to cut my hair. i know why you can’t tell your mom about it. i know how the numbness slips over everything, a restless horrible cotton. i know how when you dropped the dish, you weren’t crying about the broken glass. i know about feeling like all the roads have closed their exits, that you aren’t supposed to still-be-here - and yet.
i am still here, and still yours, and i haven’t forgotten. what i’m saying is if any hope is calling to you - i know it’s hard, but you have to listen. i’m saying keep driving, but slow down the car. sit down in the shower, i’m not judging you. we can stay in the dark with the good hot water and do nothing but stare. notice the stab wound. make it through another tuesday.
i know what it is like to miss yourself. do what you need to. come home to me. i am writing to you, my past self, from the future. i’ll be waiting for you.
titsay
snowghoul
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
