Becoming a hero themself might not work out so well for the MC considering just how many extremely powered heroes and villains alike are out there in Nickelport. (I mean, even Batman has to extend his money and technology about as far as it can go sometimes. MC… isn’t really as rich as Bruce Wayne.)
I can add it to the list of possible endings but it would definitely be a hard lifestyle for the MC.
However, what is already on the list is an ending in which you end up teaming up with one hero (if you choose to help them earlier) for their larger goal. So that’s… somewhat similar, I suppose?
The way I see it overall is that there’s a couple different facets to the ending (one of which I can’t list for them good ole spoiler reasons. Also I didn’t put all the possibilites down as I don’t want to give away all possible endings.):
Where the MC ends up. (In Nickelport, somewhere else, or wandering the world with no specific goal or place in mind, etc.)
What the MC ends up doing with The Rust. (Starting a new Rust-like paper with their own set of rules, fired, quits, continues as they are, takes over, etc.)
If “fired” or “quits” to the above- what they end up doing instead. (Aiding the hero as stated above, returning to their old profession, etc.)
And what happens to the characters the MC knows. (Are they friends? Lovers? Enemies? Dead?)
Like I said there’s one more I can’t state but it’s most directly tied in with the 5th and 2nd/3rd mini-facets to the ending.
All of these, the way I see it, will culminate into a kind of building epilogue, with each one being it’s own sorta warp-up vignettes that build off of each other. (Ex. If the MC knew someone who died during the course of the game, I might have a scene with them at a graveyard, and if they’re leaving then they might say goodbye or if they’re staying in Nickelport then they might be apologizing for what happened or something of the like. Then the next vignette for a leaving MC might be just that- them leaving Nickelport, while the staying MC’s vignette might cut to them entering whatever profession they’ve chosen.)
Yes, yes they are.
Besides the above hypothetical ending you can get that I stated? Well, I can add some angst to that I guess. You might be avenging the murder of someone close to you later on.
It was on my mind, so I went ahead and slapped that down. I guess it counts as a spoiler? But I didn’t say ‘who’ or ‘how’ or ‘why’ so… I’mma go ahead and say it’s vague enough to put up.
Have fun guessing!
Informant is great, he’s a man of many secrets- and not all his own.
Sadly I really can’t do a short for Informant since a solid 98% of the good stuff happens once you learn about him which, considering his whole character, even his eye color is a spoiler. (The 2% consists of getting to know him and then the final grand reveal of who he is.)
I can, however, do a short vignette-style extra on this one.
Also 1/3? 2/3? If I’m gonna give an example I’m gonna go all the way.
(I went with Raf as the divorcee considering most I assume that most of the people who romance Ricky will be playing MCs who are, at the very least, romantically attracted to men.)
Remember that you asked for this.
You’re getting sick of the silence. All you can hear is your foot tapping against the ground- the tapping of your own foot. You quell it to a stop, hands cradling your face as you stare Ricky down- but he seems not to notice. No, instead he’s much more interested in the world outside the small pane of glass. You sit back with a sigh, folding your arms over your chest. “Ricky.”
“Hmm?” He doesn’t look at you, simply cocking his head towards you ever so slightly as a signal that he heard.
“Ricky.” A little more forceful this time around- obviously not enough, however, as his eyes remain stubbornly glued to the tree swaying in the breeze. Eventually, he releases a sigh of his own, and drags his gaze towards you.
“Is there a problem?”
You let out a brief, sarcastic snort. ‘Is there a problem?’ Why, no, it’s just that it’s already endlessly difficult to schedule any kind of date when you’re trying to keep your relationship under wraps and now that you finally have he won’t so much as look at you. No problem at all.
If Ricky catches your internal monologue from the look on your face he… doesn’t say anything. No, he doesn’t do much of anything at all, instead he looks away from you- again- and focuses on the coffee in front of him, fingers wrapping around it stiffly though he never takes a drink. Your eyes narrow, “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.” Curt, cold, his lips pressed into a thin line and his face frozen in a slightly-less-than-neutral expression. For an odd moment your mind leaps through time, back to when you first started ‘working with’ Ricky. It’s the very same uncomfortable expression he used to wear whenever you ‘asked’ him for something in a public place.
Seeing it now makes your chest ache some.
Your hands fall to the table, fingers clasped together until your knuckles turn white, “I know that’s not true…” Now he latches onto something, some tone in your voice that makes his head snap up- and his face relaxes into a smile.
Again, you recognize it. It’s his media smile- practiced, professional, near perfect, and not at all genuine.
“Everything is fine.” He reaches out towards your interlocked fingers, but you draw them away and tuck them beneath the table. Ricky’s smile twitches, but stays frozen on his face, and he goes back to uselessly cradling the cup.
He’s been getting like this more and more and you have a… theory, of sorts. Though you’ve never tested it out, “Is this about Raf?” by the look on his face, it seems to hold at least some truth.
Now, Ricky drinks, he says nothing but takes a long sip of coffee as his eyes lower in the calculating politician-way.
You don’t give him the chance to think of the words, “Ricky… are you… jealous?”
Ricky chokes, coughing into his cup as he sets it back down, wiping at his mouth with a balled-up napkin. “I…” He sighs, finally looking you straight on, “I suppose it’s obvious enough.”
“So… you are jealous?”
“Ricky- You-” You shake your head, you can’t help the tiniest smile of relief, knowing what’s wrong and, even more than that, knowing it’s nothing too horrible, “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Just as soon, you’re smile dissipates. A sour note of restrained… not-quite anger, not entirely. He doesn’t sound angry at you, at least, in fact, it doesn’t seem to be directed anywhere, or at anyone, in general. “Is it really so ridiculous?”
You square your shoulders, “Yes,” firmness solidifying your voice, “Ricky, I’m helping him redeem himself. I know it means I have to spend a lot of time with my Ex, but… we’re divorced, Ricky. We divorced a long time ago. All I’m doing now is because I think I can help him.”
“You care about him, then?”
“Of course,” Now it’s your turn to reach out and take his hand, “As a friend.” Ricky nods, and for a moment you wonder if he’s accepted your answer, and that all his silly worries are assuaged.
“And you loved him, once?”
“But do you still love him?” But then that moment passes.
“I-” You know, logically, that you should say ‘no’. It’d be the easiest answer, it’d be the best answer. ‘No’ would put all this to rest, because you know that Ricky trusts you enough to take you at your word, the same you would him. ‘No’ would ease his paranoia, it would let the two of you get on with your date and, hell, the rest of your lives with no other problems. ‘No’ would be easy. ‘No’ would be simple.
‘No’ is stuck on the tip of your tongue, trapped behind your teeth, and unable to come out.
Because you can’t lie to Ricky.
So you don’t say anything.
Ricky is silent for a long time, and with each passing second his hand seems to squeeze yours tighter and tighter. And then, all at once, it relaxes, and slips from your grip, letting your palm listlessly hit the table, his face falls as well and his eyes turn down to his coffee, “… I see.”
With a heavy breath, he draws the cup closer to him, “I… I want you to be happy…” Slowly, he stands, “But I… can’t quite bring myself to say what that means.”
A sarcastic chuckle slips from his lips, head hanging away from your sigh, “I suppose I’m far too selfish for that.”
And with that, he’s gone.
(ft. the fact that I couldn’t think of a final line for this vignette since it would have to transfer to another scene in-text but, y’know, I did my best.)