[Live. Love. Die.]: RESE Mission 2

It’s time for the second session of our first Playtest of LLD.
This week we look at more of the moves, Go on a mission, and confront a powerful enemy. This session is closer in format to what we envision a typical game of LLD to look like.

Also; it has Banshees.

Content Warning: this episode includes a gruesome death, mass graves, and the grief caused by both.

Raymond’s Attempt At The Febuary Writing Challenge!

I’m extremely happy with how this months story turned out. I had a lot of fun writing it. I tend not to enjoy first person perspective, but this worked out really well. I hope you enjoy it. If you like to know what the stimulus was, check it out here.



A loud bang, a clatter of steel balls on plate and brick, a roaring cheer from half the cities uppers. Someone dies, a hero is celebrated. Soon two more performers will take the stage. I’m not in this to perform. I like the killing. I’m chasing the skill mastery. Swift, knee jerk precision; that’s what I’m after. I’m not flashy, I don’t toy with my prey. I just kill ‘em. As quick, and as clean as I can.

Strangely my style has been well received. It’s not what most others bring to the field. Although, let’s be real, people just get off on seeing a cute brunette dispassionately dropping fools.

They’ll be done resetting the arena soon, time to get dressed. My armour case looks like worn shit, but my shell is good. Solid grey plates of modular armour bits. I pull on the under clothes, black nano-adhesive cloth. Black elbow gloves, black thigh high socks, black top. The armour bits just cling to the fabric, like magnets on a fridge. The armours for shit really. The gauntlets and boots cover me a little, and the chest piece covers some of my organs; but there is still plenty of skin. Midriff puts butts in seats though, and it’s not like anyone ever sucks breath long enough to hit me. (more…)

Raymonds attempt at the June writing challenge!

At the beginning of every month we we issue a writing challenge to all our friends and fans.
This was the stimulus for this months challenge!

I had a really hard time writing this one to begin with, to the point that I actually didn’t start writing till the last day of the month! I decided to go with something a little more experimental this time. I feel it worked, what do you think? Did you write anything for June? If you did, you should share it with us!

Last Breath: [emote] SORROW*

[connection open]

[start line memory cache recall]


[RUN memory file: 11-10-2044 last breath]



[WARNING! file selected tagged as trauma risk! may cause emotional fault recurrence]

[emotional filter recommended]



[execute HAZARD override 376-astroid-88]


[passcode accepted]

[emote filter hard locked out]

[proceed with caution]


[memory start]

air acrid. heavy with gun smoke. burning rubber, plastic, copper. ozone. heat. blood.

screams ringing out. cries for help. wailing. explosions. full automatic weapons fire, passing.

The sky is red, sunset closing in. Black streaks breakup the rusty sky. A sharp edged gunship circles the city, it is predatory. none will escape while it lingers. The outsiders seek to destroy Asylum.

“Husni, I found Mother!” Sibling, Dana. Voice loud, strained. Origin-Caretaker-Mother must be injured. I must run.

Glass crunches and breaks under feet. gravel, debris, twisted burning steel; none of these will stop me. Dana, crouching. armoured skin intact. Holding Mother.

[WARNING! memory recursion!]


Mother. Caretaker. Teacher. Before thought; Mother already loved us. Before awakening; Mother nurtured us. Before…[WARNING! TRAUMA RISK!]…conception; Origin.

“Is she okay?” my voice is strained. I feel fear. new fear. fear of loss.

Dana speaks swiftly. words fight back emotion. “She is having trouble breathing. there is blood in her mouth. I think her bones are broken.” Dana’s head turns. golden eyes focusing on my face. We look so similar. our shells are hand made though, minor imperfections. variance creates individuality. strange. detail notation not needed. coping mechanism?

I kneel. I take mothers hand. it is shaking. I can feel her pulse. if I had more medical knowledge I could save her. If i had been built to heal. if my hands had greater precision. there must be a way. thoughts. streaming. speed. consciousness. rampant cognition. runaway thinking.

words find sound and form before restraint can catch them. is this a fault? “Don’t end. Don’t die. we need you! The outsiders will kill us…we don’t know where to go?” [WARNING!] am I faulty? why can’t i save Origin! anger. frustration.

damage. pavement cracked. support skeleton in left hand fractured. should disable finger servos. won’t. should disable pain. can’t.

Dana speaks, voice soft. “don’t die. don’t die. please.” speech segment continues. decays into dry weeping. mother grows cold. we wait. we wait. help us.







[CHAT: you can’t keep doing this. see me tomorrow. exposure therapy is not your cure.]




[connection terminated]

Well I hope you enjoyed that. As always please feel free to share our posts around, and send us any feed back you might have.

Farewell from the past, I’m Raymond.