Infatum

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I just want an "eatcookie" emote

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Never going to happen.

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I love this game....there is simply no such thing as "never going to happen".

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You mean Pony Melee is still a possibility???

Happy day!

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What is indignant about hoping that they do something about it before it is released? I am not demanding, not even suggesting. I said "I HOPE" nothing more.

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I'm not calling you indignant.

I would say though that it is a bit illogical to rename a character that is part of a promo of an upcoming expansion on which the game's future hangs over renaming a broker most people probably wouldn't have even remembered before you brought her up. Heck, 50% of people playing through that area end up with the other broker and never even see her.

If the double names thing is a bit of an issue, just call the old one "The Glint" and call it a day. Sounds pretty catchy actually.

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Why? Desdemona the Glint has been in CoV since launch. If there was all of a sudden a metallic blue armored character added to the game, should it be called Blue Steel? Or maybe that guy that just stands there should have his name changed to "Shield Guy" because it makes sense for the new character to keep the name because it is Blue.

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Because she's a useless broker with little to no in game lore?

In any case "Desdemona" is an actual name, not a superhero alias. Two people can possess it without the world grinding to a halt.

Or they could just have the new Desdemona burn the old one to death with her demons before she has a change of heart

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Despite it's other myriad uses, wouldnt duct tape work just as well and for a lot less?

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Somehow covering your camera lens in duct tape glue doesn't seem like a bright idea. This is coming from someone who has tried (with some success) to solve most household, plumbing, electrical, automotive and relationship problems with duct tape in the past. Duct tape is one of those things that is good in moderation, trust me.

Yeesh folks, this is a teen game... cover your shame!

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That said, I've found some of your reviews to be so laden with TVTropes lingo, they're pretty much impenetrable and... well... not fun to read.

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Just to provide the other side of the coin, I find Venture's reviews far more entertaining than some of the others on this forum *because* of the use of TV Tropes. To each his own though.

Some day, when classes in basic logical thinking are a mandatory part of our school system we won't have threads like this anymore...

A guy can dream right?

There isn't nearly enough doom here, I call false advertising

I read everything unless the author already lost my interest with a bad story and I'm just continuing because I haven't quite reached "quit" on my "suck-o-meter".

For some reason it really irks me when I see "A lieutenant is stronger than a minion...", especially when it's on otherwise interesting looking creatures.

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I'm frankly not aware of this supposed army that Venture has. Where do I get my own army? That'd be pretty awesome.

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I know if I had an army I'd be doing more important stuff with them than one starring bad arcs.

Like invading Canada!

My thoughts on what the rating system needs...

You should need to complete the arc to rate it.

This would have numerous benefits:

5 star cartels would actually have to play the missions they're rating, and may very well come to not want to give a 5 star by the end of it.

0 star cartels simply could not do this en masse, and most players who are liable to do this sort of behavior are likely too lazy to go through a full arc.

Insta-death arcs couldn't be finished and thus couldn't be rated. Remaining at 0 stars indefinitely.

Simply being "too difficult" wouldn't lose you stars necessarily, but it may keep you from getting many ratings.

And lets be honest, a rating on an arc you haven't finished is disingenuous no matter how bad the arc may be, or how much you may feel they deserve it. Just like a rating on any other form of media.

Add a count of times completed.

Even by itself this would help, although it would essentially obsolete the star system if the above wasn't done as well.

Regardless this would give another metric to rate arcs, something with a bad star rating but a lot of play throughs still warrants notice.

Add a count of times not completed.

Although not a black mark per say, this would help weed out those arcs that had high ratings, but either didn't deserve them or are possibly very difficult (for those who don't want the challenge, if the author didn't explicitly note this).

Allow anonymous *logged* feedback if you complete the arc.

Basically the only hitch here is giving authors a way to report harassment easily without knowing who is harassing them. Although this would only be for people who completed the arc, you would still allow IDed feedback for anyone. This would reduce harassment issues pretty much to nothing, since you couldn't spam messages without being put on ignore.

That is all

Although I personally think Mary Sue is fine, I vote for using "Statesman" as the new term. He is the pet character of the original lead designer of COH (from his Champions PnP days if I remember correctly), and he and the other Freedom Phalanx set the stage for them being the main characters of the story rather than the players themselves. The mechanics only further support this by placing the Phalanx as a bunch of level 53 AV class characters in their arguable "true" form. Something players can never hope to be.

Might also help drive home the point that dev content is not perfect

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Fairly unfounded rumor, but I have to admit the post title made me drool a little.

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Now the rumors about Carp Melee on the other hand are totally legit.

Just played this last night, definitely an excellent arc. The writing was well done and everything seemed very well paced.

If you mix sets that don't involve weapon draw, or only one involves weapon draw they have less confusion. I played an arc last night where all the minions were AR/MA and they tended to vary it up a bit which made for a nice effect.

This would have to be a monetary thing honestly. I couldn't see it done with tickets or influence because each "increase" costs them money (however little) just like additional character slots for instance.

I can definitely see them releasing an architect booster pack though, they'd actually be pretty silly not to.

No.

AE has provided an alternative for leveling lowbies that doesn't make me groan with boredom. I'd much rather help Frostfire save his little brother's bizzare troll-crossed romance or what have you than go beat up Frostfire for the 8 bajillionth time.

I think someone deleted their post and thus killed all the replies. I could be wrong. Since mine was one of the ones killed, I'll recap:

Like I13 PvP.
Fights seem more even and balanced.
Needs a little polish.
Fortunatas seem a little wonky.
PvP could use some more incentives to draw more people.
Overall good direction, looking forward to more.

Just a few cents on the issue:

I'd be very surprised if the devs implemented badges simply for "badgers", more likely they intended them to be mini cosmetic rewards for people pursuing a particular avenue of play whether it be monster hunting, a vendetta against a particular enemy group, PvPing or in this case crafting. If the easiest way to get the highest crafting badge is well, not to craft, then that's likely an issue in their mind.

So it doesn't sound like Fabricator was living up to its goal of being a mark of a crafter, and although this might not have been the most ideal change (maybe it should have been paired with a lowering of the quota for instance), it does bring it back to focus on people who craft rather than just those who badge.

10k is doable if you're focusing entirely on selling enhancers on the market (which is quite lucrative as well), and I'm guessing those are the kind of people they wanted that badge line targeted to. It may take as much if not more time than getting max rep in PvP for instance, but it is doable. As a badger myself, I find the harder it is to get a badge the more it's worth to me, but I can understand if that's not the case for everyone.

Obviously the reformed badge was intended for villains with the "Villain" badge who switched sides and became heroes. It was removed so it will function properly once they implement falling from grace/redemption in I15.

What?

It's friday, double xp weekend, and I'm still stuck at work. I'll rumor monger if I want to

Objective: Several story arcs haven't been giving xp awards at completion, but have been giving merits. This may just be a missing message, I haven't tested thoroughly enough. I'll bug it next time it happens, but I figured I'd mention it here too.

Subjective: I love the direction Merits has taken the game, I'm much more willing to do TFs now that I know I won't go through all that work and get yet *another* Crap of the Hunter. Very happy with it thus far, and I think in the long run even the Katie runners will be happy to be doing other TFs once in a while and giving that poor girl a rest.

Thanks for the kind words everyone, I hope you like the next installment.

The Colors of Dawn
Chapter 2 – Fire in the Sky

Wendy never came to pick me up the next day despite my gloomy expectations, and Mr. Rose said nothing of his conversation on the phone despite how obvious it had been he was talking about me. Instead Sunday had rolled by without much fuss, there weren’t any shows on TV that Emma liked thankfully and instead the day involved playing board games with her and her father, none of which I turned out to be very good at.

The guest bedroom was quite nice although I almost got lost amidst the thick quilts and fluffy pillows of the king sized bed. A large trunk held extra blankets, and my small suitcase seemed rather pathetic next to the towering wardrobe on the far wall. What interested me most though were the picture frames scattered here and there, some showed Emma when she was younger with a rather dopey looking german shepard, others showed a Mr. Rose with far more hair. There was only one other person amongst the photos and it was pretty obvious who she must be.

Mrs. Rose was very much an all grown up Emma except for sandy blonde hair instead of shiny brown. She had the same eyes, a very similar smile and an otherwise mostly identical face aside from being many years older. I found myself wondering if she had the same warm colors to her face as Emma. Photos, like TV, just didn’t capture them, they always looked so washed out and drab in comparison, but at least they didn’t hurt my eyes.

Most foster families I had stayed with had, to put it plainly, rooms for kids not guests, but I didn’t dwell on it too much, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be staying here much longer anyhow. It might be a week or two before Wendy finally came, but she would come and then I’d be off to the next house.

It was with these unpleasant thoughts that I sat alone in the back of Mr. Rose’s station wagon as the three of us drove to school. I was sorely tempted to open the window so I could watch the neighbors and enjoy the late autumn breeze, but some small part of me was hopeful that maybe my newest family would accept me after all so I tried to be on my best behavior even managing a smile or two although I’m not sure whether or not my timing for them was particularly appropriate.

The radio which had been playing some classical music suddenly switched to a news announcer as the song ended.

“This is NPR at five of the hour,” the dry sounding voice spoke with a slight weariness, “The fighting continues in Paragon City with casualties coming close to over a thousand military personnel and civilians dead or missing as we reach the end of the month.”

There was a click as Mr. Rose turned off the radio, but I didn’t have to listen any longer to know what was they were talking about. Generations past had grown up in fear of cold hearted dictators, nuclear war and other horrors, for our generation it was something harder to come to grips with.

They had attacked earlier this year, no one had seen it coming. Why they wanted Rhode Island so badly wasn’t clear, but they had been battling it out for months now with no peace in sight.

We called them the Rikti, or perhaps they called themselves that I wasn’t sure. There were many strange things in this world, but they could not be counted amongst them. They were alien, wrong in so many ways, and from somewhere we simply could not fathom.

As close as we were though, Paragon City still felt like a far off place, and the invaders felt too fantastical to truly be real.

“I’ve already taken care of the paperwork Lucent,” Mr. Rose spoke softly over the rumbling of his Subaru’s engine, “So you’ll just be following Emily to class, will that be alright with you?”

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Walsh is a lot of fun, you’ll like her,” Emma assured me with a smug smile as she strained against her seat belt to turn around and talk.

“That’s… nice,” I was a little hesitant to let my own hopes get up about a good first day of school. Teachers were generally nice enough to me, or at least civil, but my classmates were another matter entirely. Perhaps if Emma was the school bully I’d have felt a slight bit of optimism, but that seemed quite unlikely.

“We’re doing a project this week,” she continued, cheerfully ignoring my hesitance, “No one wanted to be my partner, so Mrs. Walsh put me in one of ‘their’ groups, but now you can be my partner instead!”

Who were ‘they’ I wondered, but decided to just smile instead of asking questions I might not want the answers to.

“Are you any good with computers?” she asked hopefully, although the hope didn’t seem to last long in the face of my blank stare, “We have to use one for the project…”

“I bought you a laptop last year and you never use it,” Mr. Rose sighed with only mild irritation.

I wasn’t looking forward to this, computers were no better than TVs as far as I was concerned.

Emma rolled her eyes at her father before looking back to me, “Well I’m sure you’ll do better than me in any case Lu.”

It was the first time anyone had given me a nickname, I wasn’t sure how to react, but it wasn’t a monumental moment in Emma’s book from what I could tell so I supposed reactions weren’t particularly required.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out together,” I finally managed to say just as the car came to a stop, and the sound of other children’s laughter and yells was suddenly very close by.

We departed unceremoniously, while a bus pulled up behind us and began offloading its own payload of students of varying ages. Emma had to struggle to untwist her seat belt for a moment before she could free herself of the car.

It was odd watching her father during this as he just sat and waited, most parents would have tried to help, fussed over it, gotten impatient or even just used the opportunity to give their child a good bye kiss before they could protest, but Mr. Rose just sat and waited until she was free and clear before he drove off without another word, I wasn’t sure what to think.

The elementary school turned out to be quite like most of the others I had been to, a far too large brick covered building with a far too small playground. I stayed close to Emma, as unpleasant memories from past schools gnawed away at my confidence. Where I was worried, she seemed strangely resolute, marching me through the thicket of other kids and into the front doors.

All around I could feel eyes on me, and hear barely masked comments about my strange hair and goofy looking glasses. It took a moment to realize that Emma and I were amongst only a few actually moving through the school, most of the others were staring at me. It was like this every time, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“Well would you look at that, looks like Lee has a boyfriend!” the boisterous boy’s voice startled me as I suddenly found our path barred by four students that looked to be about my age. The apparent leader was at least several inches taller than me and many more wider, his bristly black hair was closely cropped in an almost military like fashion which managed to make him even more intimidating.

It took me a moment to realize they were talking about Emma, sadly ‘Lee’ didn’t sound nearly as endearing as ‘Lu’, almost as if they had purposefully taken the one part of her full name she liked omit and used it to spite her.

“I don’t know Ben,” chimed in his scrawniest henchman, about my size with messy brown hair and a sour looking face, “Looks like she has a girlfriend if you ask me.”

Ben laughed heartily along with his three companions, causing his belly to shake disturbingly under his sweatshirt.

Emma just shifted about uncomfortably, her eyes looking for the easiest escape route.

“So what’s with the glasses freak?” Ben loomed over me as he pushed forward and reached for them.

I tried to get out of the way, but a meaty hand grabbed hold of one of the straps of my backpack, stealing my balance and sending me tumbling to the ground, my glasses skittering across the linoleum to come to a rest near Mike.

Mike scooped them up before I could even reach out a hand, putting them on and posing for his friends, “What do you think guys?”

The guffawing was unbearable as I struggled to free my still captured strap from Ben’s paw and get to my feet. I could feel Emma trying to help me up, but even combined we would probably have to resort to biting if we wanted to pry him loose.

Silence feel suddenly over the hall as I managed to get to a partial standing position despite still being ensnared.

“Look at his eyes.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s some kinda weirdo!”

The others seemed to be in a mild shock from seeing what I hid under my glasses, but Ben just stared at me with a half grin.

“You ARE a freak,” the words stung more than I should have let them as he broke out into another peal of laughter. What surprised me though was that what I was really afraid of was looking at Emma, I tried not to care what people thought, but that was quite impossible with people I considered friends.

“Lee knows how to pick em, a weirdo for a weirdo.”

It was a rare feeling what welled up at those words, I was used to being picked on, I even felt like I deserved it, but Emma didn’t. I was angry.

The hand fell away limply as Ben stumbled back unable to voice what had suddenly startled him.

I felt Emma move to my side and keep me upright, it was a nice feeling.

“Let’s go,” Ben stuttered as he turned to leave, his friends filing in behind him

Mike paused for a moment and then took off my glasses and tossed them back, my own hand missing entirely, but Emma catching them deftly.

She didn’t immediately give them back, and I tried to look away as she circled around to face me.

“They’re all white,” she stated simply, her face was just curious, but I noticed the normally warm colors had taken on a more fiery tone, filled with a very similar anger to the one I had just felt, “There was something else too, but it’s gone now…”

She furrowed her brow, but then decided to just give me my glasses back.

“You don’t have to wear those you know.”

I put them back on anyhow.

Mrs. Walsh turned out to be as nice as Emma had promised, an old woman with a young spirit, who seemed to get into class activities as much if not more than her students. Thankfully my uncomfortable introduction to the class was brief and relatively painless, but sadly Ben and his cronies were part of the class as well. They had already recovered from the hallway, and were now spending their time chortling to each other over subject matter I tried not to contemplate.

The project turned out to not be nearly as bad as I had feared, we were just choosing animals to research and using the schools computers to do it. I would have preferred books, but then I was probably the only student who would have preferred to go to a more poorly funded school.

“You read aloud, I’ll write,” I offered right after we had sat down in the computer room.

“Sure Lu,” Emma seemed particularly happy with that division of responsibilities, “But we haven’t even picked an animal yet.”

Ben and Mike were hunched over a nearby computer laughing about something, I didn’t need to look at their screen to tell they weren’t doing research.

We were quiet for a moment until I thought back to the pictures in the guest room.

“How about a type of dog?” I asked innocently enough.

“Yeah!” she seemed happy at the idea, but although her voice betrayed nothing, I could see a twinge of sadness in the colors on her face, “German shepards.”

We hadn’t even started our research when a siren pierced the quiet grumblings of the class. Everyone went silent as the first siren was answered by another and another until my head ached from the sound.

We all knew what it meant, but we never got used to it. The Rikti were coming.

“Alright gently now, let’s all walk down to the cafeteria, everyone stay calm,” Mrs. Walsh kept her voice quiet and controlled, but I could see the fear painting itself across her face.

“I bet it’s just a drill,” Ben smirked as stayed in his seat while everyone else started filing out.

“Get moving Mr. Goldsmith,” our teacher ordered a little sharply and he finally pulled himself out of his seat strutting along behind the rest of us like we were all fools.

As much as I didn’t like him, he was probably right, we went through these drills throughout the year since the war started, and the Rikti had never attacked New Hampshire. What would they stand to gain? A lot of leaves and a few granite quarries?

We marched downstairs to the bottom floor of the school in as orderly a fashion as elementary school kids can. It wasn’t until we were all finding seats at the crowded tables when I noticed Ben and Mike had gone missing, I could tell Mrs. Walsh was too preoccupied to realize that, and the intermingling of all the classes in so small a place was making it hard for the teachers to get their counts despite preparations.

Emma just sat with me quietly, and I barely noticed as she put her hand in mine. For some reason I didn’t seem to mind the sirens as much as we waited for the drill to end.

Suddenly another familiar keening broke through the sound of the sirens. The fire alarm.

The teachers looked panicked, but after a moment one who I assumed was the principal managed to get some amount of order. I couldn’t understand anything over the dull roar of the crowd of students, but we were slowly being herded out of the school. It was then that Emma’s hand started to shake.

If the sirens were loud inside they were deafening out, I still didn’t see Ben or Mike, but there was no smoke either so it was pretty obvious what was going on. I was silently resolving to make sure they got punished for scaring Emma like this when the first hand pointed towards the sky.

“The Rikti!” was the common scream throughout the crowd, and panic ensued as children ran in every direction and teachers tried in vain to control their students.

Up on the horizon I saw what they were talking about, a huge dark form coming down from the clouds. They saw invasion, they saw the Rikti troops from the news storming down to kill all in their path, but I saw the smoke. The ship was crashing.

No one knew where to go at first, there was a potential fire in the school and now this coming down from above. Emma quaked next to me, clinging so hard to my hand that it hurt as the smoking behemoth struggled in vain to stay aloft. I wanted to reassure her, to tell her it was going to be alright, but as I tried to open my mouth I realized just how scared I was too.

Students were now being loaded onto busses as fast as the teachers could manage, but there was no time. The ship was rapidly losing altitude, and anyone could tell that we were in the way.

Tears streamed down Emma’s cheeks as she stared at the oncoming horror.

The first bus left, with students almost spilling out of it as two more pulled up and began to fill. There simply wasn’t enough room and not enough time.

Everyone was aware of what was happening now, the Rikti weren’t here to kill us, they were going to die right alongside me and Emma. Not that that changed anything.

The second bus took off half full as the driver panicked, several students tumbled back into the crowd and one clung to the door for dear life before finally pulling himself inside.

The sirens, the screaming, the chaos tore into my ears as I clung to Emma as much as she clung to me.

Everything went sideways as the burning hulk touched down on the street a football field ahead of us. The asphalt rippled like waves under its immense bulk, and debris flew in every direction. I put myself between Emma and the oncoming destruction for all the good it would do, and earned a slice across my shoulder as a piece of shrieking metal whizzed ahead of the bulldozing ship.

Each hundred feet of ravaged street went by in an instant as the wreck shot forward like the ground was merely bath water. I turned to face it, to do something, to save Emma somehow as she clung behind me, but there was nothing I could do in the face of this horror.

I was only vaguely aware of the light coming from my hands, of the power welling up inside me as it rallied for a last stand. My glasses somehow melted off my face as the light connected with the ship as it was nearly on top of us, a strong steady beam from my hands to it. I would have been reveling in wonder of what I was doing were it not for the fact the Rikti transport was still crashing forward barely slowed as it moved to finally silence my life once and for all.

The second arc of light was the first thing I noticed, as brilliant and amazing as mine was, it was nothing compared to this torrent of energy that connected solidly with the fragmenting hull ahead. Then I saw her, standing next to me like something out of a comic book.

She was tall and beautiful, with long blonde hair and a look that almost made me think she was the inspiration for some super hero Barbie. That wasn’t what amazed me though, it was the colors, I had never seen so many in the eyes of another person, and never so brilliantly. They didn’t just read of emotions, or feelings, they encompassed an entire person, like she was wearing who she was for all to see, or at least me.

“Be strong!” she ordered more than encouraged over the combined roar of our powers and the impending doom we were trying to stop.

I didn’t know what to focus on, so I focused Emma, I focused on saving her, my first and only friend.

The wreck slowed its rampage, as pieces flew off in every direction, stabbing into solid stone like darts into cork. I wasn’t even sure I was contributing, but our combined blasts seemed to be working. It cleared another hundred feet in the next second, then fifty, then ten, until it slowed and stopped at the edge of the school yard propped gently against what remained of the chain link fence as if that of all things had proven too resilient.

My savior turned towards me with a wide smile, her blazing eyes telling me so much more than words ever could.

“Hello Lucent, I’m Samantha,” her teeth were dazzling white, but I found my mind wondering how she knew my name, it looked like all the answers were there in her eyes, but I just couldn’t put the pieces together.

I stared at her, dazed for a moment before all the exhaustion of what I had just done came rushing in.

“Are you alright Lu?” Emma’s wavering voice came from behind me as I realized the world was going sideways again.

I felt Samantha’s strong arms catch me gently, but it was Emma’s hands grasping mine that made me feel like we were finally safe.

Been working on a story about one my characters as a bit of a writing exercise, so I figured I'd share in hopes of getting a bit of constructive criticism. I hope you like it!

The Colors of Dawn
Chapter 1 - Autumn Sun

I’ve always liked the way the New England forests became a flurry of color during the cool fall months. People would tell me of the vibrant reds and oranges, the trees almost appearing on fire, caught in a slow sunset that would not end until the start of winter. However, to my eyes this warm palette had a different flair, there are no English words for the colors I see, the best I can do is describe the feelings they evoke.

Some are like a thick sweater, a little itchy, but warm and cozy.

Others are like the first sip of a hot cocoa on a cold day.

But my favorites are the ones that show up just before the leaves start to fall, they feel like a mother’s embrace, or at least what I imagine that would feel like.

I know now what I am, or at least a good chunk of that riddle, but on that cold morning, riding in the back of a poorly upholstered van I was just a silly looking white haired boy with large tinted glasses on my way to a new foster family and a new school, just staring at the leaves.

“Aren’t you cold Lucent?” the social services worker asked with a hint of concern, her bushy red hair fluttering slightly from the breeze circulating the van, “You shouldn’t have the windows open, I can turn down the heater if you want.”

Wendy was nice, she was my case worker, and despite all the families I had bounced to and from, she was never mean to me.

I didn’t close the window though, I wasn’t cold, I never was. When other children bundled up in scarves and jackets, I was outside barefoot. Needless to say I didn’t make a lot of friends, I was too weird, too strange, but I couldn’t blame them, I knew I was different and if I could have done something to change it I would have.

A sigh told me Wendy had decided not to fight my silence, she was used to it anyhow.

“Aren’t you excited to be going to a new school?”

“No,” I responded honestly. I was strange, I wouldn’t fit in anywhere, so this place would be no different, at least I’d get to drive with Wendy again when it was over.

“Well I think you’ll like it here, the Roses have a daughter your age, so you’ll have a friend right from the start!”

Her enthusiasm was strained, she new as well as I did that friends weren’t exactly safe assumptions with me. I didn’t respond.

“I’m sure you’ll have a great time Lucent, just keep that chin up and keep walking forward!”

I raised my chin up a bit and managed a faint smile, I liked Wendy’s cheery attitude, part of why I didn’t try very hard at the various homes I went to was that I actually hoped she’d decide to adopt me instead. She reminded me of my mother, which was a strange thing because I never knew my parents at all.

“We’re here,” she took me by surprise as she pulled open the sliding van door, I hadn’t even realized we stopped, but then my mind tended to drift at times.

Our destination was a squat yellow house in a quiet looking neighborhood full of tidy well tended flower gardens, a few playful dogs trotting along with the local kids and the occasional stuffy old man watching ruefully from his porch. To me though, the charm was somewhat lost, and my legs threatened to fall out from under me as I hopped out and followed Wendy down the narrow weedless stone path that bridged the Roses’ tiny yard.

Since leaving New Hampshire, I’ve faced many horrors in unspeakable places, but there is nothing so scary as that first knock on the door of a new family’s house. I’m not sure what exactly scared me so much, if it was the thought of them taking one look at me and turning away, or the thought that I might actually be accepted for once.

The man that answered the door looked exceptionally normal, thinning brown hair, unassuming glasses and a battered gray sweatshirt with jeans. He gave me the look, the look I always get, one of someone disturbed or at the very least surprised, but then reigning in their expression as they remember that society frowns on prejudice, at least to a person’s face.

“Albino?” he asked vaguely, cutting Wendy’s greeting off before it even started. It wasn’t the first time someone had asked, but my skin didn’t match the condition, and I could tell by his tone and his eyes that he realized that already.

“Umm… no Mr. Rose,” Wendy replied, a bit taken aback before adding lamely, “This is Lucent.”

Normally this was where they would pause, weighing their options, could they get away with turning me down outright, or did they have to wait a week or two so they could blame it on my behavior. It wasn’t just the hair or the glasses, there was something about me that left people ill at ease, like I said… I was strange.

“Go on in,” Mr. Rose said to me without hesitation much to my surprise, despite this there was no warmth in his voice, it seemed odd for a skinny man to sound so gruff.

Wendy and my newest attempt at a father figure went through some paperwork outside as I wandered cautiously into his house. It wasn’t the nicest place, but it wasn’t bad either. The carpeting was a dull gray, the walls a plain white, yet in spite of this they apparently preferred to keep it dark, because the blinds were drawn tightly closed, and only the open door and a single lamp kept the room lit.

I took off my sneakers as I had been reminded to do many times in the past, and shuffled around the room, happily surprised at how fluffy the carpet was. The couch was large and overstuffed with a few patches here and there revealing its age, next to it was matching forest green recliner that appeared to have suffered equal amounts of abuse in its life. The TV as usual was the centerpiece of the room, but I wasn’t interested, TVs hurt my eyes, and I didn’t like them because they lacked all the colors everything else had.

“Hello.”

I turned slightly and looked up at the girl who had appeared half way down the stairs, watching me through the gaps under the rail. She was probably my age like Wendy had said or at least my height, and had brown hair like her father, but it was shiny and thick where as his was dull and wispy.

For a moment I just looked at her curious blue eyes, most kids my age seemed to dislike me at first sight, or at the very least feared me, apparently I was just a simple oddity to her though, kind of like how Wendy looked at me. That wasn’t what made me pause though, her face had color to it that I hadn’t seen on other people, warm and inviting like the autumn leaves or the morning sun. I found myself a little tongue tied.

“I’m Emma,” she offered, still staring at me, “What’s your name?”

“Lucent,” I managed to get out, my own stare no less curious.

“That’s a funny name,” she stated, without any distaste, more just to point something obvious out.

“I know.”

“Why’s your hair like that?” she stuck her head between the wooden bars to get a better look.

I simply shrugged in return, it was one of the many things I didn’t understand.

“It’s soft,” she commented to my surprise as I realized she had reached out without me noticing and now had me by a fistful of the stuff.

I’m not sure embarrassing was the right word for the situation, because uncomfortable as I was, at least she wasn’t making fun of me or running off to ask her dad how this strange boy ended up in their house.

She seemed satisfied my hair was normal enough after a few tugs, so she rocked back to sit on the stairs again and continued her interrogation.

“Why are you wearing sun glasses, isn’t it dark?”

“My eyes are…” I stopped and decided not to offer another mystery for her to ogle, “I just need them.”

“Oh.”

“Emily,” Mr. Rose had apparently finished the paperwork, “This is Lucent the boy I told you about, he’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“Okay, but he can’t stay in my room, he’s not allowed in there,” she didn’t sound personally invested in that particular statement, more like she was just pointing out an unwritten law to her father.

“He’ll be staying in the guest bedroom.”

“Alright, that’s ok then.”


With that Emily hopped up the stairs and into her room, closing the door to reveal a prominent construction paper sign saying “No Boys Allowed!”

“You’ll have to excuse Emily,” Mr. Rose explained, “She’s been watching too many movies.”

I just shrugged, it was probably the warmest reception I had received yet, and being barred access from somewhere based on my gender rather than my strangeness, actually made me feel rather normal. Emma on the other hand was actually striking me as a bit strange herself, but perhaps this was usual for girls my age when they were around people they weren’t afraid of.

Dinner was a silent affair, which I was used to, but at least I wasn’t receiving awkward stares during it. To the contrary Emma frequently waved from the other end of the small kitchen table, I suspected this was because she couldn’t tell where I was looking behind my glasses, or she actually could tell my train of thought was derailing as usual and ending up somewhere far far away from my macaroni and cheese.

What was odd was the lack of a Mrs. Rose, I wondered if she was just working, or if perhaps she had seen me without my notice and decided she didn’t want to be near me, or maybe she just didn’t like macaroni and cheese, I couldn’t fathom how that could be though.

“Mr. Rose?” I asked as I set my spoon down in the now empty bowl containing little more than orange smears.

“Yes?”

“Where is Mrs. Rose, is she late?”

The look on his face made me realize I had asked something I shouldn’t have so I quickly looked down at my bowl again.

“She’s no longer with us Lucent,” he said simply, if there was pain on his face it was hard to read. Emma on the other hand had ceased both waving and eye contact, and was now poking her meal half heartedly.

“Oh,” I probably should have said more than just that, but I wasn’t sure what.

I helped clean up afterwards, being careful not to break any dishes this time. By my standards it was a good first day, and I found myself a little eager to feel useful.

Mr. Rose had gone down into the basement, and Emma was watching cartoons, so I contended myself to stare out the kitchen window, it was quite dark out, but that just caused certain colors to be easier to see.

“No Sam, it’s just too soon ok?”

It was Mr. Rose’s voice, muffled by the basement door, but still audible.

“I know I agreed to this, but it’s just too soon, it’s only been a month since Margret…”

“Yes…”

“Yes, I know.”

“What if he hurts Emma though, I heard about what happened in Nashua…”

My heart sank, he was talking about me, probably on the phone with social services. I was unwanted as usual, so much for a good first day.

“Fine.”

“Yes, I will.”

There were sounds of heavy footsteps coming up the basement stairs, so I scuttled into the living room plopping down on the floor next to the couch and receiving a giggle from Emma for my attempts at stealth.

An audible sigh came from the kitchen, as Mr. Rose settled back into his chair with some papers. I just sat quietly and listened to the cartoons, trying not to look at the TV. It didn’t usually hurt anymore when I knew I wasn’t wanted, but there was something different about this time. I was glad I had my glasses on so Emma couldn’t see when I started to cry.

Very cool guide, thank you so much for putting this together!