just realized the story is up and longer on AO3 and it has me giggling hysterically. Anon encountering Sunny for the first time is a delight, I love when larger than life characters who the readers know about intersect with the normal people on the ground
Yaaaay! ❤️ I’m glad that came across, where it’s like she’s meeting ‘the canon character’ even though they’re all my OCs. Or like if Mr. House was a cute anime girl. In my notes I have “talking to Sunny Roosevelt should feel like being emotionally shanghaied” lol. And I’m glad to hear that the jokes are still landing even as I turn it into a more ‘proper’ story with conflict and drama and stakes and stuff (though I still don’t know if I’ll ever top “aww horsey :(“)
Did you consider writing SMGF in Disco Elysium voices? What kind of skills would come up in the Manorpunk setting?
ohohoho I’m gonna go on some tangents here because I have thought a LOT about “what if manorpunk/SMGF was Disco Elysium”
(to clarify: ‘Manorpunk’ is the name of the overall setting with Sunny Roosevelt and Usonia and the Global Logistics Network, and ‘Swordmaster Girlfailure’ is a story within that setting because I’m building a BRAND baby!)
So, the skills. They’re great, right? It is known. They’re funny and poignant and memorable. But part of what makes them so good is that they’re *deliberate.* They exist the way that they do as a reflection of Harry’s self-perception being shattered into dozens of pieces because he’s depressed and heartbroken and waking up from a failed attempt to take his own life. A lot of DE is like that: the themes of fracturing and the weight of history run through every level, from the history of all of Revachol down to the history of Harry’s love life. So to me, “DE but Manorpunk” wouldn’t be just “Disco Elysium skill system but change some of the skills and put it in the Manorpunk setting” but rather “a skill system which resonates with the broader themes of the story.” So with that in mind, let me tell you about:
Heaven is Falling: The CRPG, Maybe?
The basic plot setup: Johnny G. Newsroom, a ranger with the Usonian Union, is investigating the disappearance of an Infrastructure Corps work site on the outskirts of the Protectorate of St. Louis, which is mostly a launching pad for a lot of sidequests. St Louis seems like a compelling setting for a lot of reasons: the iconic Gateway Arch now a symbol of the re-frontierization of the former US; the blending of Southern and Midwestern culture; the stark and un-ignorable class and ethnic divisions; the reputation as the “city of neighborhoods” making it feel diverse and vibrant but in an isolated and almost paranoid way, like a Balkan vassal state. The Cardinals are a major source of political legitimacy now, where if you want a career in politics you basically have to be involved with them because they’re the only local figures who are seen as transcending petty local politics while also representing/embodying St. Louis.
(The Johnny here may or may not sound like the Johnny in SMGF; this would probably be a prequel to explain why the Johnny in SMGF is still terse and unsentimental but substantially more chill.)
The intended feeling I want with Johnny’s character arc is that at first he seems like a default and ‘relatable everyman,’ but as you play the game and hear more from him, it’s increasingly clear that he’s someone who has deliberately tried to strip himself of wants and needs and personality traits. He’s like an inverted Holden Caulfield. He’d always been told that he needs to grow up, be mature, and take things seriously. So he did. And once he set aside childish things and became a serious grown-up, he looked around himself and said “wait a minute, I’m surrounded by fucking children.” He thinks he’s trapped: he fell for the polite lie of a meritocratic society, and now it’s already ‘too late’ for him because it’s all he knows how to do and he’s too scared to try and break out of it.
So Johnny’s equivalent of ‘main attributes’ would be a variety of outdated stereotypes of American masculinity:
Johnny Law: The cowboy-sheriff, stoic and independent. Responsible for ‘physical’ skills like endurance and pain tolerance, as well as survival skills like animal handling and botany. The Neo-West is a harsh place, no place for weakness or cowardice. You gotta be tough to survive. Tough and distrustful and maybe even a little stupid. It’s simple: there are good guys with white hats and bad guys with black hats and there are no unfortunate implications to this metaphor. And if someone isn’t wearing a hat, well, it’s probably best to assume they’re evil, just in case. After all, how can you trust someone who doesn’t even have a hat?
Newsroom, P.I.: The private eye, sharp, introspective, and fatalistic. Responsible for ‘intellect’ skills like logic and investigation. The mean streets of current location will chew up a bleeding heart like yours and spit it out. And then ash a cigar on its remains. Maybe even piss on it a little. Sure, he’d LIKE to help make the world a better place for all the downtrodden little guys, but he knows the powers that be, how vast and implacable they are, so you may as well give up in advance before you get yourself hurt.
Sarge: The soldier. Irascible, bitter, and protective. Responsible for ‘motorics’ skills like reflexes and hand-eye coordination. He knows that war is hell, but goddammit, he’s going to get our boys back, whoever the hell “our boys” are, if he has to die trying. Does anyone have a suicide mission for him? Someone give him a goddamn suicide mission right fucking now!
Father John: The reverend. Bombastic and passionate. Responsible for ‘psyche’/’spirit’ skills like empathy and insight. All the other guys in here, they’re closed off. They’ve become shells of themselves. They refuse to understand their inner selves. But not Father John. Father John is kind and compassionate. Father John has a strong moral compass. Father John will listen to you. And that’s why you’ll always come crawling back.
Coach J: The football coach. Dedicated and encouraging. Responsible for ‘morale’ skills like willpower and leadership. Seemingly friendly and avuncular, but god help you if you get in the way of his competitive streak. All your other selves had better knock it off with all that quitter talk and get their head in the game. You gotta hustle for sports. You gotta give 110%. Whatever you’re doing right now is the only thing that has ever mattered and the only thing that will ever matter, and you’re going to win it. Even if the dice are loaded, even if the deck is stacked against you, even if the task is not in any way a competitive measure of skill, you’re going to bring that trophy home!
And that’s pretty much what I’ve got, I’ve still been trying to figure out who Johnny’s companion would be, if it would be one people or multiple, etc. Not to mention the actual plot lol. But it’s been fun to think about.
And I have also thought about your actual question of “what DE skills would the characters have” but this is long enough already so I’m gonna answer that separately lol
Johnny: So… about that fight that just happened… did you-
anon: okay fine yes I started barking, are you happy now?
Johnny: do you… do you usually start barking when you fight someone?
anon: just once I’d like someone to say ‘thank you’ after I save their life instead of immediately getting all judgey about it
discourse is like a fun hobby to me. It’s fun to take words and ideas and arrange them in novel ways, to meander to an unexpected and possibly unwanted conclusion. Not every belief has to be a core part of one’s identity! I have beliefs that (I would like to believe) I would risk great personal harm rather than abandon them. I have beliefs that are unsatisfactory placeholders, filling in gaps until I find something better. And I have beliefs are like experimenting with chemicals, taking two things and mixing them to see what happens. And then I have Red Team ideas, looking for vulnerabilities in my priors, finding exploits and sticking a wedge in them.
And to be honest, I think all of them are important! It’s important to hold some beliefs with enough passion and zeal to actually put them into action. But every ideal can be twisted, no ideology is perfectly humane in every circumstance. If you put mental blinders on and refuse to follow a certain thought because you don’t like where it might lead you, then you are not doing anyone any favors, least of all yourself.
If a thought leads you to an unpleasant conclusion, just sit and consider it. 95% of the time you’ll probably realize it’s the result of oversimplification, or moving goalposts, or not accounting for something else - congratulations, you have now practiced defending your ideas against common rhetorical tactics. The other 5% of the time, you might realize that you have been overlooking something, that your beliefs may in fact need to be refined, that there is not a single consummately perfect ideology that Solves Everything. Congratulations, you have now practiced defending yourself against being an easy target.
Right-wing recruiters love it when budding leftists refuse to even consider a certain position or viewpoint, because if you do that often enough then you’ll convince yourself that the world is actually very simple, and that the world is divided into Good People who think the right thoughts because they are good, and bad people who think the wrong thoughts because they are bad. And that makes you vulnerable, because the first time someone pokes a hole in your belief system, they might collapse your entire worldview and humiliate you in front of your peers, and then they will take your shattered worldview and mold it to their own ends. And if your response is “well then I’ll just double down on everything I believe and never cede an inch of ground,” that’s a great way to become a tankie.
And this is something I want to eventually explore in manorpunk - I’ve been looking back at my outline and setting notes because I want to make a narratively competent story. And I see some of the post-crisis states as having a sort of “monkey’s paw socialism”: there’s UBI but it has so many hoops and checklists that it’s practically a part time job; there’s a flourishing of urban gardening and small agricultural co-ops that are viable and sustainable only because food prices have skyrocketed. There’s public healthcare that tells people over 60 that there’s only so much they will do to try and save them because the system cannot afford to try every life-extending procedure on every sick old person.
This, to me, is a more hopeful and invigorating world than any socialist utopia, because utopias are defined by their implausibility - they are lego worlds with no limits or constraints, no malicious actors, no cracks for people to fall through. A world which is still sometimes petty and cruel and uncaring, a world in which socialist ideals have been relentlessly compromised and cherry-picked, is an achievable world. A world can be deeply flawed while still being better than our current world.
And I’m gonna get there, I swear. Anon just likes to take the scenic route.
>be me >22 year old baby trans in the Most Serene Republic of Greater Caliphornia, year of our lord 2069 >no talents or skills aside from a mastery of the Hissatsu Ougi >(my parents were transphobic ninjas) >like not to brag but I am so unbelievably good at stabbing people >doesn’t exactly qualify me for a desk job tho >too many brain problems for UBI qualifications >wtf the U stands for ‘universal’ how do I not qualify for something universal >whatever fine >try to become a hit(wo)man for los Norteños, they kick me out once they learn I’m actually filipina >(yes my parents were filipino ninjas don’t worry about it) >run into middle-aged academic lady named Maria who’s apparently a big name with the Poaster’s Guild >somehow charm her with my complete lack of skills, charisma, and/or personal hygiene >she says I should join the Westphalian Polycule of Seattle >I do >grad school TA milfs dress me up while I ramble about swords >I’m in heaven >until some lady starts asking me questions about some shit I don’t know anything about >wait this isn’t swords >panic >”uhh… sure?” >”hmm I see interesting” >next day people start acting colder to me >what >ask Maria wtf is going on >apparently I got tricked into taking a stance on some contentious discourse topic and now everyone’s saying I’m a crypto-nobunaguista >said it was probably Vycky, apparently she’s jealous of the attention I’ve been getting >bump into Vycky later that day >instincts kick in >stab her >wait shit oh shit shit shit that wasn’t Vycky >I can’t just stab some random girl and then leave tho, that would send the totally wrong message >and also morally wrong or whatever >drop random girl off at the hospital >fucking. Vycky is there in the hospital lobby >too many witnesses around >I decide that the only rational response to this chain of events is to leave the Westphalian Polycule of Seattle without saying a word to anyone >and steal a bunch of estrogen on my way out >ontheroadagain.VR
>start heading across the Rockies to begin my life anew on the other side >immediately accosted by Mormons >stab them >finally make it across the fuckign Rockies >immediately accosted by Sovereign Citizen ranchers >stab them >not gonna lie it’s actually kinda nice being in an environment where stabbing people is an acceptable response to most conflicts >except I’m starting to run low on estrogen >pretty sure that’s one problem I can’t solve with stabbing >and I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere >and I have to keep walking east because there’s a trail of dead bodies behind me >which is why I’m now in fuxking DENVER >and I’m legit out of estrogen >drowning my sorrows in some shithole bar >”what’s got you down stranger?” >look up >buff cowgirl milf is talking to me >this is not a drill a buff cowgirl milf is talking to me >ougis start spilling out of my pockets >take my chances and ask her if she knows anywhere I could get my hands on some estrogen >”I’m Wendy Saints, I can get anything!” >who >”Wendy Saints, the best scavenger the midwest autonomous zone has ever seen, I’ve explored every inch between the rockies and the ole mississip” >sorry but I’ve never heard of you >”oh” >(ok cool I immediately killed any chance I had w/ her. like I said I’m only good at killing things) >she says she was actually in the market for an extra pair of hands, she’s planning a big scavenge job at an abandoned mall not far from here >none of the locals will touch it cause they think it’s haunted >the aforementioned locals are a bunch of neo-feudal types, they’ve already established a new religion where they worship the founding fathers as god-kings >c’mon people it’s been thirty years tops. literally there are still people who were alive when the USA still existed you don’t gotta be like this >whatever, not my circus not my monkeys >I accompany Wendy Saints to the abandoned mall >there’s some old pre-crisis security bots that are somehow still functioning >they mistake us for homeless loiterers and accost us >take a wild guess how I respond >(I stab them) >Wendy makes a beeline for the mechanical room >starts taking apart the copper tubing and HVAC motors with the speed and skill of a thousand crackheads >ok damn I guess she is really good at this >help her haul the parts into her RV >”thanks anon you were a big help” >more ougis spill out of my pockets >random van pulls into the parking lot >bigass tie-dye wizard spray painted on the side >reach for the hilt of my sword >Wendy’s like “don’t worry, these guys are friendly” >pair of burly mad max types hop out of the van >”we’re Liquor & Gusto, and we’re here to pump you up” >yes okay we’re all a bunch of droll characters. wtf are you doing here >one of them takes out a bigass bottle of pills >bottle has ”GRRL PILLZ” written on it with a marker >look inside >estradiol >tell them I just have tenbux worth of itunes gift cards left >Wendy says not to worry about it, consider it her payment for helping >bless you kind stranger >I thought it might be the start of a beautiful friendship but she said her heart is in a throuple with the open road and the thrill of the hunt >whoa hey hang on I didn’t say it needed to be a romantic thing >I mean okay I did make a drunken pass at you >three times >ontheroadagain.hologram
>follow the I-70 Pilgrimage Trail east >”hey punk this is Clown Princes territory, if you ain’t down with the Dark Carnival then you gotta-” >stab stab stab >keep traveling >running low on estrogen >oh joy I’ve made it to fucking TOPEKA >find the nearest bar >there’s a creepy girl sitting in the corner and everyone else is leaving her alone >she’s got one of those smiles. y’know. one of *those* smiles >she comes up to me >”you don’t know it yet, but you’ve found your home. come with me.” >sure. I don’t have anything else going on and if it gets too weird I will definitely know how to handle that situation >(stabbing. I will handle it with stabbing) >she takes me to an abandoned neighborhood a few miles away >it’s a giant flophouse full of trans girls >”welcome to the temple of cybele we’re a sacred order of” blah blah gimme the goddamn estrogen >apparently they need to ‘induct’ me first >ok fine whatever >they lead me to the cul-de-sac >some tall lady comes out wearing weird robes and holding a staff >she’s got a fucning. horse. with her >apparently she’s the ‘high shaman’ in charge of the place >she gives some kind of speech, I wasn’t really listening >and then everything goes silent and she slits the horse’s throat >I say “aww horsey :(“ out loud with my mouth >(listen I am aware of the irony. you don’t need to point out the irony im aware ive killed like thirty people so far but this was an INNOCENT HORSE) >everyone stares at me like that one meme. you know the one >high shaman cuts open the horse’s body and takes out a bigass horse fetus??? >some other people take the fetus and haul it off to a shack >high shaman’s lackeys explain that that’s how they make estrogen, it’s apparently easy to extract it from horse fetuses >they also say that it’s really important that I never ever interrupt the ritual ever again no matter what >I say “ok fine sure” as if I’m talking to people who aren’t covered in bits of horse cervix >then we play mario kart >eat bean soup with horse meat, it’s actually pretty good >successfully inject jank horse estrogen without dying >all the bitches love my killing sword techniques >for once I think I’m actually fitting in and feeling good >a month passes >time for the ritual again >”aww horsey :(“ >I am forcibly removed from the flophouse cult >ontheroadagain.semiconductor
>traveling down the I-70 Pilgrimage Route again >there’s a commotion on the side of the road, bunch of cars parked >people standing around with guns drawn and >wait >is that fucking Wendy Saints >yep that’s Wendy Saints cornered with her hands up >they finally notice me >”stay outta this. this doesn’t concern you.” >Wendy recognizes me and gives me a desperate smile >no idea what’s going on >idgaf, Wendy basically saved my life that one time and I get to return the favor >by stabbing people >Heavenly Ougi「Sundering Wheel of Fate」 >effortlessly slay a dozen goons >”thank you so much omg you saved my life” >hnggggg a buff cowgirl milf is smiling at me and thanking me >I’m still standing in the middle of a pile of corpses >brain starts to shut down >c’mon. this is your chance. you can do this >wrack my brain to come up with a cool one-liner >”y-you too”
If you like anon (and you do), her misadventures are continuing on AO3!
“isn’t anon pretty early on in her transition, how does she keep getting ma’am’d by strangers in an area that isn’t exactly known for a progressive queer-friendly culture”
well y’see when you’ve been hearing rumors for months that there’s a wandering trans woman with a chip on her shoulder who can turn people into meat smoothies, that can encourage people to bite their tongue and play it safe when an androgynous pile of hoodie and steel walks in