I think this game is off to a great start so far and I am looking forward to more.
At the current end of the game, when the MC is given the choice of staying at Vanguard Academy or leaving with Tayana, I’d prefer an option to attempt to arrest Tayana’s group. As far as the MC knows, the MC’s entire family was killed due to a leak in the Vanguard and the fact that this group is penetrating Vanguard security and boasting of what they overheard about the MC would look like a leak to the MC. While my MC would not simply try to kill Marty, trying (I suspect the attempt would fail due to plot reasons) to arrest that whole group would be appealing.
In light of the explosion during the boarding attempt, my MC would like to see whether the wreckage of the Hearthfire also includes wreckage from the other ship.
I noticed a few typos that escaped the recent patch.
It just makes too much sense to become one. The adventure, the cause, the status, the job security… the list of reasons to join up goes on and on. Besides, it’s in your blood. Yours enthusiasm is pretty evident, much to you uncle’s delight and your father’s dismay. Your mother is quick to insist that you’ve got quite a few years before you have to make any kind of decision, but you still catch the slightest twinkle of pride in her eyes.
That should be Your and your.
Because you’re young, and most likely weaker than just about anything that could threaten you, your uncle alo gives you a crash course on more subtle, stealth based tactics. He teaches you to wield the weapons of precision and surprise, shows you weak spots on the human body and encourages you to study the weakpoints of various monsters when you’ve got the time. Despite his initial push though, your uncle is no stealth expert, and most of your time spent honing this skill is time spent alone, or else using your unsuspecting family as practice victims.
That should be also.
Ancient, powerful, and beyond full understanding. Normal people tend gape and step back when you’re around.
That should be tend to gape.
Sometimes, discussions about your future resurfaced. The same questions come up, and your family members stances on the matter remain largely unchanged. The difference now though, is that you’re fourteen. In just two years, you’ll be elligible to apply to the Vanguard Academy in Valiant if your heart so desires. In four, you’ll be old enough to decide for yourself if you’ll be staying onboard the Hearthfire or trying to make it on your own in the world. Your whole life is in front of you.
That should be members’ and eligible.
It starts like any other day. Your family picks up a distress signal coming from a nearby frontier town, Destiny Springs. It’s being attacked by bandits. Within seconds, you’re all strapped in and flying to the rescue at full speed while your father responds to the distress signal over the radio. When he makes contact though, the old woman on the other end is rambling. Something about not letting someone find “the Vanguard’s greatest secret.” You don’t have a clue what that means, but when you see the grimm, shocked, and disbelieving looks of the faces of your family, you get the feeling they do.
That should be grim.
Valiant, the home of the Vanguard, nestled in the very center of the known world. As Frontier Vanguards, your family doesn’t go there much. Actually, you’ve never been, except once when you were a baby. You uncle always says its too full of stiffs for his taste. Your father says the work your family does in the Frontier is too important to leave undone. But now the Hearthfire is on a direct course for it.
That should be it’s.
Checking the ship’s external cameras only confirms what you and everyone else in the cockpit already guess; the ship that was attacking Destiny Springs is now attacking the Hearthfire. A hull breach alarm warns your family to the presence of boarders. Your fathers shoves the box into your mother’s hands and tells her to get it and you off of the ship. With time running out, you and your mother have no choice but to listen. You and your mother race out of the bridge, and make a beeline for the escape pods. Along the way, you run into your fair share of boaders, but your mother makes quick work of them, and the two of you keep moving until finally, you reach the escape pod. Elsewhere in the ship, you can hear gunfire, and sounds of weapons clashing.
That should be father and boarders.
In the time it takes your mother to get you to safety (albiet in a pretty painful way), the woman has pulled her arm free of the ice and is again advancing on your mother. The fight becomes a fast and dangerous dance, with the woman spending half her time just trying to keep your mother from linging up a shot. That doesn’t stop your mother from firing, a lot, and soon the corridor is filled with bullet holes, blast marks, and chunks of ice. You try to get up, try to not feel so useless and helpless, but the shock round did its job. It still hurts to move.
That should be albeit and lining.
Eventually, your wanderings lead you right back to where you started, to that lone pistol half burried in the dirt.You fall to your knees in front of it, staring at the weapon that only hours ago belonged to your mother. You’re alone in this place.
That should be buried and a space is missing.
You survived the crash, but now you’re surrounded by Wilds, unsure if there’s way down the mountain, and no one around to help. Everything you’ve ever know is dead and gone, and on top of everything else, you’re starting to feel hungry. Even though the only life really at stake is yours, the whole world seems a little heavier now, and a lot less hospitible.
That should be known and hospitable.
Whether or not there’s anyone around to hear it, if somewhere up there your family is listening or if you’ve just talking to nothing, you have some final words to say to your family, and you can’t leave them unsaid.
That should be you’re.
The most of the control consoles, including the communications console, look busted and full of shrapnel.
That should be Most.
For a while, work on the comm pannel progressed just fine. Shrapnel was cleared, damage was assessed, and you even managed to scavenge some replacement parts from other areas of the ship. But a few days into work, as you break for food, you reach into your survival pack and realize something. You’re eating your last pack of rations. A part of you feels like an idiot for letting your food supplies dwindle this much, while another is making excuses revovling around how busy you were with literally everything else.
That should be panel and revolving.
Once you get there, you find that this part of the ship crumpled paper during the crash. The way into the antenna room is completely cut off by a wall of debris and giant shrapnel. Assuming the structural integrity in this part of the ship is better than it looks, you could maybe get in if you used your tools to cut your way through. But with as much metal and wiring that’s in your way, and taking your current streak of bad luck into account, that could end up taking weeks.
That should be crumpled like paper.
A Telsa Snake. You’ve read about these creatures from the databases your uncle made you pour over during training. Nocturnal creatures, who’re drawn to electrical energy and urban disaster. They’re territorial, volatile, and extremely dangerous, like just about every other monster you’ve read up on.
That should be Tesla.
And yet, slowly but surely, the job gets done. All along the way, you were kicking yourself for not paying more attention to your mother’s tech training, as you instead end up learning a lot of what you need to know through trial and error. You try not to spend every second working on the antenna, afraid of going insane from overworking. During your self-perscribed “off hours,” you…
That should be prescribed.
Excercise. Jogging, stretching, and even using some of the still working equipment in the training room.
That should be Exercise.
The day finally comes that you finish replacing one of the antenna’s power couplings with one that you actually salvaged from one of the ship’s engines. Once the replacement part is in place, and after you triple check that it is, (a habit you learned the hard way) you reconnect the power supply to the antenna, and check its maintenance screen. Like just about every other holographic screen on the ship, it only kind of works, and you have to smake it around a bit just to get a half decent image, but in and amongst all the static and blank spots, you can make out the green status of the antenna. You’ve got a signal.
I think this was meant to be either shake or smack.
Next to you, the stranger in the cloack also gets a worried look on his face. “Tayana,” he whispers.
Without another word, he dashes forward, running opposite the flow of panicked people. Unlike Ford, who seems too nice to shove people who look like they’re running for their lives, this stranger has no problem shoving everyone out of his way. As he does, his cloack flutters open, and you catch sight of something on his hip the cloak had concealed: a sheathed katana.
That should be cloak and cloak.
But you can still feel your everything, so that’s not it. Hesitantly, you let go of the pole you’d grabbed onto. Nearby by, Tayana pulls her hand from the train car’s wall, leaving behind a fist sized hole, and Perry lets go of her. When you look outside, you see almost can’t believe what you see.
This word should not be there.
There dozens of dozens of tendrils outside, criss-crossing all over the area, wrapped around buildins, supports of the traintracks, and windowsills to make a net which the train car is now resting in. And all of them trace back to Ford, who is suspended midair, white in the face, bleeding from his nose, limbs dangling. He looks at all of you, and gives you all a thumbs up.
That should be buildings.
After another elevator ride and a short walk through more halls, you and Ford cross over into a new area of the castle. The air still carries the kind of energy indicitive of multiple, powerful auras in close proximity, but in this part of the castle, the feeling is far more subdued and manageable.
That should be indicative.
Your the only one in the room, and neither side of it looks like it’s been lived in for a while now. After closing the blinds on the window, you change out of your old, worn and ragged clothes and into the outfit Ford procurred for you. The outfit consists of black pants and boots, and a loose fitting grey t-shirt with a black Vanguard insignia enblazened on each sleeve. He also gave you a white hoodie with a golden Vanguard insignia on the back, but it’s not really cold enough to warrant wearing that, so you set it aside for now.
That should be You’re, procured, and emblazoned.
