Do we know if anyone else is volunteering for the commandership?
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Guardian Angel Haruki
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All fair points :P Sounds like we have the right idea then.
We should definitely have a dedicated corps of medics, because it'll definitely get bloody.
If we do have healing mages, though, let's try and limit their power a bit, because our actions should have real consequences.
If we do have healing mages, though, let's try and limit their power a bit, because our actions should have real consequences.
@6slyboy6 I like the sound of that!
@Bright_Ops Alright, thanks for the clarification, will keep it in mind for future posts.
@Bright_Ops Alright, thanks for the clarification, will keep it in mind for future posts.
Uhhh...knock knock?
@Conscripts Sorry! I was a bit confused by your CS, I thought it said that he hadn't ascended to the throne yet. Will change ASAP.
EDIT:@Bright_Ops Didn't know if Pizurk and company should be called orcs or uruks, so I'll change that in my post as well.
EDIT:@Bright_Ops Didn't know if Pizurk and company should be called orcs or uruks, so I'll change that in my post as well.
Florian regarded the assembly of generals cooly, fingering the wisps of his nine-day beard. Peoples of nearly all of the Western nations (excepting the thrice-damned Ulahids, though one could scarcely count upon them for aid even in times of peace) had come in defense of the Maw. Elves...Men of all varieties...and even the green ones, the hated Uruks, all had come to the Maw to participate in this grisly masquerade, this final farcical revolt against the all-ranging might of the Empire that would surely grind the West beneath its iron heel. No matter how long they delayed Alaric, it would not be enough—the West was ill prepared to contend with the Empire. Jan-Leopold XII, King of Galatia, and Florian's own lord-father, did not even consider the Empire a veritable threat to the kingdom.
"They will be swallowed up by the steppe, and then we shall ride them down, and show them the mettle of our spears," he had said, in an almost mocking manner, when Florian had pleaded before the court to send more men to defend the pass.
You will hide in your castles. You will burn the fields and offer up the country to rapine. The people will be the toll for your folly. When all is said and done, they will find you, and tear down your walls. You will die screaming, and in your death throes you will wonder why.
On the road to the Maw, it had consumed him, the thought of death, the thought of dissolution, the thought that everything they would do here would be for naught. But Florian shook away such thoughts now. Let come what may come; he could ill afford to think beyond the moment, so long as they were here.
His eyes settled upon each leader of the assembly as Torr delivered his speech. Pizurk, the uruk with his disgustingly beady eyes, who instinctively made bile rise to his throat; Lothian, the monumental elf in his black armor; Torr, "The Wolf", his blue eyes as sharp as knives; the young king Alexander Myerscough, who he had almost instantly disliked; the imposing Bane of Riganite, as much a barbarian, in Florian's mind, as Alaric; the unfathomable Erebus Dragon-Keeper, encased in his enchanted armor; the Grand Duke of Saqquar, Gastó Canalis, in his lavish finery; and the beautiful and striking Gyrid Thometilldottir, the Goddess of the Roffellans, who the Galatians knew well. Who would lead them on the first day of their death march?
Florian glanced to his left at Ludwik-Balbo, his lord-cousin, who regarded him with a bewildering look that said, "Don't." Ludwik-Balbo was ten years his senior and looked it, too. At only thirty-three his face was drawn and wrinkled, and he was balding, with what hair remaining him being gray and as frayed like a torn carpet. He was, as were most people in Florian's estimation, a fool who could hardly see what was before his eyes. But he decided to keep his cousin's counsel, at least for now. After all, he didn't think it wise that he should lead the first battle that he had ever fought in. He was, though he would never admit it, afraid to make a novice's mistake, even if he had proven himself in an endless number of exercises and mock-battles. So he would sit out for now, and watch how the others moved, before making his own.
But when Pizurk volunteered for the command, Florian could simply not stay silent. An Orc? The leader of a Western army? An Uruk, who in ages past his people had hunted like vermin? It was madness.
"You would lead us, Orc?", he snapped, starting up from his camp chair, " And what would you have us do? Shall we throw ourselves into Alaric's troops, so that you and your fellows have more meat for the roasting? I suppose we'd make a fine repast, would we not? And when you're done, and your bellies are full, you'll run back to your caves and your hiding places, and let the rest of us perish upon the tips of the imperial lances."
Ludwik-Balbo sighed and averted his eyes.
Florian continued, looking deeply into the face of each general, "Why should we trust him, I ask you? When have the Uruks ever come to our aid, save to enrich themselves?"
"They will be swallowed up by the steppe, and then we shall ride them down, and show them the mettle of our spears," he had said, in an almost mocking manner, when Florian had pleaded before the court to send more men to defend the pass.
You will hide in your castles. You will burn the fields and offer up the country to rapine. The people will be the toll for your folly. When all is said and done, they will find you, and tear down your walls. You will die screaming, and in your death throes you will wonder why.
On the road to the Maw, it had consumed him, the thought of death, the thought of dissolution, the thought that everything they would do here would be for naught. But Florian shook away such thoughts now. Let come what may come; he could ill afford to think beyond the moment, so long as they were here.
His eyes settled upon each leader of the assembly as Torr delivered his speech. Pizurk, the uruk with his disgustingly beady eyes, who instinctively made bile rise to his throat; Lothian, the monumental elf in his black armor; Torr, "The Wolf", his blue eyes as sharp as knives; the young king Alexander Myerscough, who he had almost instantly disliked; the imposing Bane of Riganite, as much a barbarian, in Florian's mind, as Alaric; the unfathomable Erebus Dragon-Keeper, encased in his enchanted armor; the Grand Duke of Saqquar, Gastó Canalis, in his lavish finery; and the beautiful and striking Gyrid Thometilldottir, the Goddess of the Roffellans, who the Galatians knew well. Who would lead them on the first day of their death march?
Florian glanced to his left at Ludwik-Balbo, his lord-cousin, who regarded him with a bewildering look that said, "Don't." Ludwik-Balbo was ten years his senior and looked it, too. At only thirty-three his face was drawn and wrinkled, and he was balding, with what hair remaining him being gray and as frayed like a torn carpet. He was, as were most people in Florian's estimation, a fool who could hardly see what was before his eyes. But he decided to keep his cousin's counsel, at least for now. After all, he didn't think it wise that he should lead the first battle that he had ever fought in. He was, though he would never admit it, afraid to make a novice's mistake, even if he had proven himself in an endless number of exercises and mock-battles. So he would sit out for now, and watch how the others moved, before making his own.
But when Pizurk volunteered for the command, Florian could simply not stay silent. An Orc? The leader of a Western army? An Uruk, who in ages past his people had hunted like vermin? It was madness.
"You would lead us, Orc?", he snapped, starting up from his camp chair, " And what would you have us do? Shall we throw ourselves into Alaric's troops, so that you and your fellows have more meat for the roasting? I suppose we'd make a fine repast, would we not? And when you're done, and your bellies are full, you'll run back to your caves and your hiding places, and let the rest of us perish upon the tips of the imperial lances."
Ludwik-Balbo sighed and averted his eyes.
Florian continued, looking deeply into the face of each general, "Why should we trust him, I ask you? When have the Uruks ever come to our aid, save to enrich themselves?"
HYPPPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
@Fabricant451 Fair enough I suppose. I guess that I just missed some of the stuff about 2B and 9S's relationship in-game, or if I did, it just didn't resonate with me enough to make it sufficiently believable. Yes the characterization is subtle (in the case of A2, subtle enough to make it non-existent), but I thought that the thing that was hidden behind the subtlety just wasn't all that compelling, or not very well written. 9S I do think is a pretty good character and probably the best-written in the whole game, but 2B and 9S just seem so flat to me. I thought Operator had a deeper character than 2B (okay only half-memeing here). In general I just think, subtlety in-and-of-itself is fine--in fact, in most Japanese literature it's the name of the game--but I thought that in Automata it wasn't executed very well. Ending C truly made me re-evaluate my opinion of the game. Like, of course the whole "humans are ded" twist was telegraphed from early on, but like the back-to-back gut punches really, then this moment were really awesome. Maybe I'm so disappointed because endings D and E didn't deliver that much on the promise of ending C...Like it felt like it was building to something, and then you get some really cool stuff in the tower, and 2B's descent into despair, and then it just kind of ends. To be fair I never got ending Y so maybe there's stuff that I've missed.
I think there's a fine line between subtlety and poor writing, and Automata straddles it. I believe that it could've been an overall better story if there had just been greater focus on the characters. That's my biggest problem with Taro tbh, he has fascinating worldbuilding and great concepts, but some of his writing and characters are just really cliche (NieR is a victim of this too, though I still love that game). I definitely liked the game though and I recognize that I'm probably thinking too much into it, a minority opinion, and maybe a bit "elitist". Not trying to come off that way, and you make some very valid points in your post.
I think there's a fine line between subtlety and poor writing, and Automata straddles it. I believe that it could've been an overall better story if there had just been greater focus on the characters. That's my biggest problem with Taro tbh, he has fascinating worldbuilding and great concepts, but some of his writing and characters are just really cliche (NieR is a victim of this too, though I still love that game). I definitely liked the game though and I recognize that I'm probably thinking too much into it, a minority opinion, and maybe a bit "elitist". Not trying to come off that way, and you make some very valid points in your post.
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