Microstory 1788: Vulpeculiar

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I never wanted to get into gambling. My family has a history of gambling addiction, and I knew that I didn’t want to even look down that path, so I never put myself in that position. Unfortunately, gambling found me anyway, and I fell into it hard. Maybe if I hadn’t been so afraid of it, I could have learned restraint, but there’s no way to know now. I’m madly in love with it, and every time I lose, it only makes me want more, because there’s always a chance of turning things around. I’m actually not half-bad, now that I know the rules of my favorite games. I’ve come up with a system, and I know everyone says that, but most of the people who say it are thousands—or even hundreds of thousands—of dollars in debt, whereas I always keep myself in the black. I have a special savings account of money that I don’t touch. It doesn’t matter how close I get to losing everything else, that money is for food and shelter, and I’ve held firm on that. That doesn’t mean my life has been safe and happy. I’ve certainly had some problems, especially with sore losers who think that they’re entitled to live their own lives free from consequences. It’s hard to disabuse them of the idea that they won when they’re holding the scary end of a gun against my temple. I’ve recently become immersed in the shadier side of gambling, to which the authorities either turn a blind eye, or can’t even find. I’ve just been going deeper and deeper, playing games with higher and higher stakes. I’ve recently discovered the most mysterious and unusual game of them all. Bottom of the rabbit hole, I call it. The people who play it, though...they call it Vulpeculiar.

There’s a family game I remember playing as a kid called Catch Phrase. I don’t remember the rules, but it doesn’t matter, because it’s just the game disc for Vulpeculiar that reminds me of it. Only 121 people can play in the world, and the only time someone new can join is if someone quits while they’re in the black. This is hard to do, because if you’re in the red, you can’t choose to play. Only someone else can select you as an opponent. It’s a game of chance. You choose who you want to play against, and how much to bet. Then you squeeze the button. You either win, or you lose, and the only strategy is to decide to quit while you’re ahead. When you lose—and you will lose—if you can’t pay with money or collateral, you pay with your soul. You’ll be sucked into the disc, where you’re conscious, and totally at the mercy of the corporeal players. They can give you a chance to win back your freedom, or they can ignore your slot, and play against someone else. The guy who got me into this mess is probably best described as my frenemy. I guess he figured it would be easy to convince me to help him cheat. It’s a two-man job. If I hold the disc, and he squeezes the button, the game is confused about who the player is. If he loses, the round will be disqualified, and nothing will happen. But if he wins, it will pay out into our supposed joint account. Of course, he betrayed me, and never gave me access to those funds, so I’ve decided to screw him over too. I let go of the disc at the very last second, dooming him to losing after betting the sum of every player’s debt against the “dealer”, which he could never hope to pay. He’s sucked into the disc, and I realize I’m the last corporeal player left. It has to end here. The game is evil, and I’m the only one who can stop it. I bet the pot too. It’s over a billion dollars, so I assume that I’ll be sucked in, and leave no slots open for new players. I was wrong. Not only do I win, but the other 120 slots suddenly open up. I think I just killed everyone.

Microstory 1669: Of Kindness and Cruelty

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For every Hypostate in Adverse, there was an opposing force called an Apostate. These postates—to use an unauthorized collective term—could be anyone. It was never really clear whether someone was born this way, or became so over time. Some were humans, others were demons, and a few were original Maramon. There were twenty-three of each, plus the primaries, and they represented the virtues and sins that could be found in anyone and everyone. There are two of these special people that I want to talk to you about today. The virtuous one was named Kindness. Of course, that wasn’t his original name, but once he learned what he was, and what role he played in the fight against evil, he started going by it. It was kind of expected of him, and since he was so kind, he didn’t try to stop it. Kindness was a gentle human being, who genuinely cared about people, both on a personal level, and in a general global sense. You wouldn’t know it just by looking at him, though, and maybe not even after an interaction with him. He was tall, muscular, tan; all the generic traits of a dude-bro. He liked to work out, but he did it for all the right reasons, and he didn’t look down on those who didn’t do it at all. He was tan mostly because it was his natural skin color, but also because he spent a lot of time outside, and sunscreen can only do so much. He didn’t treat people unkindly, and he never felt awkward, but he wasn’t the most outgoing individual, and people wouldn’t have ever called him fun. Remember that kindness was his virtue, not friendliness. Friendliness is someone else. Those are two distinct characteristics, and while there’s often a lot of overlap, it’s not technically necessary, especially not for a hypostate, whose every trait is exaggerated, and whose mind is usually hyperfocused towards a goal.

Kindness grew up with a boy who would come to be known as Cruelty. Cruelty was exactly as you think he would be. He was a man, still—not a demon—but he shared the demons’ compulsion for wickedness. He was clever, always making sure the chaos he caused couldn’t be directly linked to him. People didn’t know that he was essentially a manifestation of evil, but they didn’t think he was a swell guy either. They generally didn’t want to be around him. However smart or careful an apostate is, they have a hard time completely masking their sick and twisted ways. His true nature was no more apparent than when the two of them were together. Everyone believed them to be friends, and most couldn’t understand why, since they were so clearly incompatible. This was a misunderstanding that neither of them refuted. Kindness was too kind to get angry at people about it, and Cruelty enjoyed how much it bothered Kindness. They just kept running into each other throughout their lives, no matter how much Kindness tried to get away. It wasn’t a constant pairing, but the relief was never very long. They were roommates in college, co-workers at their respective second jobs, and ended up moving to the same street several years later. Cruelty claimed it was an honest coincidence, but I think we all know how unlikely that is. Kindness and Cruelty weren’t the only two postates to have known each other before The Rapture, but they were the only opposing forces to know each other, and they were the only ones to know each other so well. They obviously didn’t get along, though. Cruelty would get tired of Kindness’ incessant need to make sure everyone around him was safe and cared for. It was sometimes even enough to keep him from torturing his frenemy. They never fought each other when they were alive, but they were directly at odds once both of them died. It was up to a small group of heroes to find all the hypostates, and defeat all the apostates. They were scattered throughout the three realms, including heaven where Kindness was found, and hell, where Cruelty was unsurprisingly sent to.

Microstory 1020: Ruth

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My time is very valuable, so I hope we can keep this interview short and efficient. A little bit of background. For the record, my name is Ruth. I’m class secretary, and hope to one day become a real secretary. Not as in, assistant, but a cabinet member. That may sound like too lofty a goal for a small town girl born to a middle class family, but I know what I’m doing, and I’m right on track. I have high aspirations for my life, and I don’t need this scandal getting in the way of that. For the record, I had nothing to do with what happened by the river that day, and was not at all involved in Viola’s death. For the most part, she was a diplomatic person. She loved to be loved, and she was willing to change her entire personality to fit in with whoever she happened to be around at the time. My God, I’m so sorry. Whomever. Get it together, Ruth. Anyway, my point is that I may have been the only person in the whole town that she didn’t like. We were quite similar—she and I—except that I have more trouble connecting with people, since I’m so mindful of order. We weren’t friends, but we were very close. This is our story. She was a lot more fun and relaxed, and people liked being around her, but I too care about the people around me, which is why I want to serve my country. We competed in everything, from grades, to sports, to the position of class president. We both lost out to that ineffectual, feckless cad, Riley, because he promised the school he would put brawndo in the water fountains. It’s not a real drink! Even he meant it as a joke! Whew, sorry about that. Calm and centered, you are worth it, Ruth. Well, no one ran for class secretary, so our apathetic principal decided to let Viola and I fight for the position once Riley took the top spot. She would have told you that she gave it to me to be nice, but I negotiated my way into it. She didn’t realize what she had really lost until later, so she’s never forgiven me for it. Our rivalry would have gone beyond the walls of this school had she survived through graduation. On a personal level, I am most upset with her murderer for taking that motivation away. Her tailgating me pushed me to be my best, and drove me to reach my goals. Oh dear, was that a terrible thing to say? Of course her death is sad on its own, and requires no selfish feeling of loss, or particular qualification. For the record, I did not dislike her as she me. I felt nothing but admiration for her. While she lacked the discipline to realize her own potential, I lack the social grace that she possessed in spades. The truth is that I miss her as much as anybody else, even though we were frenemies. I can only hope that she carried even half the amount of respect for me as I do her.