I grew up in a small mountain town named Eureka. It was founded in the late 1800s during the gold rush, but after the mines dried up the town began its slow descent into decay. Half the houses are empty or abandoned now.
You can see a picture of the kind of houses here in Eureka:
First house
Second house
When a massive construction project began nearby, it was the talk of the town for weeks. Why would they build something in a sleepy dying town like Eureka? It wasn’t until my sister Selene talked to a few construction workers that we discovered they were building a casino.
A casino up in the mountains, over two hours away from Denver. None of us could understand why they’d chosen here of all places. After a few months of work, the casino was done.
I took a picture of the town with the completed casino in the background to the right. The ten-story-structure sticks out like a sore thumb off in the distance.
Town+Casino
After the casino opened, they hired a few dozen members of the town, offering high paying jobs to work as dealers or cleaning staff. I was already employed as a firefighter, but my sister Selene got a job as a blackjack dealer. She’s a widow with two young kids, so the paycheck was a real lifesaver.
Still, something about the situation seemed too good to be true. The jobs over there paid far too well, and the management was far too accommodating. The fire station where I work is located high on a hill overlooking the town, so I began watching the casino from a distance each day.
I had initially thought that the casino was located in a terrible location, but I was apparently wrong. True, Eureka was hours from any major city, but despite that, a bus full of people arrived every morning and left every evening.
One night I was over at my parent’s house and had dinner with Selene and her kids. I asked her about her experience as a dealer.
“It’s Ok,” she said. “Just a little boring I guess.”
“Boring?” I asked. “I’m surprised you don’t have your hands full.”
“Why’s that?” she asked. “It’s like you said, Eureka’s too small. I never have people playing cards. The casino is almost always completely empty.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that. If the place was always empty, what happened to the people who I’d seen arriving on buses? “I’ve been keeping an eye on the building,” I said. “A bus full of people typically arrives around 9 AM every day.”
“Really?” she asked, looking confused. “If that’s true, I’ve never seen them.
“I can see it from the fire station,” I said. “If you head out for a smoke break at 9 AM, you’ll probably see them arriving.”
“Interesting,” she said. “I’ll do that. If they’re being processed for their organs or something, I’ll let you know.” She laughed.
“Har har,” I said sarcastically.
The next night she sent me a text calling me over. When I arrived, she was nearly breathless with excitement.
“Orin, You were right,” she said. “A big group of people did arrive, but they didn’t walk into my part of the casino. Instead, they all walked into an elevator at the back of the building. I’m not sure where that goes.” She looked thoughtful. “It was weird. They looked… How can I say it? Desperate? Something about the whole situation was very off. I’m gonna check out the elevator tomorrow.”
I told her to be careful, though, to be honest, I was excited to hear about what she discovered. When I visited my parent’s house the next night, I found her two kids there alone. They told me that Selene had never returned from work.
I called all her friends, then all our neighbors, but no one had seen her since she left for work that morning. Our conversations regarding the casino flooded my mind, then a plan began to form.
Early the next morning I walked across town in my nicest pair of jeans and a button-up shirt. I pushed through the door to the casino and saw that Selene wasn’t lying. The place was all but deserted. Three dozen slot machines crowded the walls surrounding a few tables interspersed throughout the floor of the casino. The only players in the whole building were Bob and Donald, two locals.
I walked up to a nearby table where Bridget, a girl I’d gone to high school with, was shuffling cards. She broke into a grin when she saw me. “Hey Orin, you here for a few rounds of blackjack?”
“I wish,” I said. “No, I’m here to ask about Selene. She never made it home last night.”
Bridget’s expression darkened. “Really? Have you asked around?”
“I already called around. Have you seen her?”
She shook her head. “No, our schedules rarely line up. I’ll be sure to let you know if I--” Her eyes focused on something behind me, and she cut herself off.
I turned around to see the casino’s pit boss watching us both. He was a tall thin man in an impeccably clean black suit. When I turned back towards Bridget, she was looking down at the table and shuffling cards absent-mindedly.
“Well, if you hear anything, let me know,” I said.
She nodded, so I turned around and headed for the pit boss. I stuck out my hand. The temperature of his hand was so hot that I had to pull my hand away after a few seconds.
“Have… have you seen my sister Selene?” I asked. “She hasn’t been seen since her shift here yesterday.”
He smiled. “Sir, this floor is for players. You’re more than welcome to head to the tellers for chips, but barring that I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
I stared at him for a long second before stalking towards the door. When I looked back, he was talking with Bridget.
I checked my watch. 8:55 AM, just as I’d planned. I walked around the back of the building and waited as the morning bus pulled around the building. I waited for the telltale hiss of the opening doors and the sound of people descending before I rounded the corner and joined the crowd. None of them paid any particular attention to me as I walked with them into the casino.
The crowd walked through a side door down a hallway to an elevator. Small groups of people entered the elevator as the rest of us waited for our turn. I shot a glance at the casino patrons, surprised at their diversity. There seemed to be people from all different countries and ethnicities. I heard one speaking Japanese and another speaking what sounded like an African language.
My turn came along with a few other patrons in the elevator. A sickly woman hobbled into the elevator beside me carrying an IV that was still connected to one of her veins. We piled in and rode up to the top.
The elevator rose for a few long seconds. I wasn’t sure what I would find, but I steeled myself for something horrible. The elevator’s speaker let out a TING, then the doors opened.
We all walked out onto what looked like a standard casino. Another few dozen slot machines ringed the walls, but on this floor, they were almost all occupied by customers. I took in the scene, confused at why they’d have a ground floor that was almost completely empty when this place was almost--
Selene was dealing cards at a nearby table.
I jogged over and sat down at an open seat. None of the players around me paid me much attention.
“Selene!” I said. “Are you OK? Did you spend the night here last night?”
Her eyes were glassy and confused. She looked up at me with a dumb expression and didn’t respond to my question.
“Selene?” I asked.
“What’s your bet?” she asked me. “This table is for blackjack players only.”
“I…” I trailed off, looking at the players around me. None of them were betting with chips of any kind. “What’s the minimum bet?” I asked.
“Three years,” she responded.
“Three years then,” I said, not knowing what that referred to.
Selene nodded, then began dealing cards. I shot a look down at my hand. King and a 9. Selene dealt out cards for herself, showing a 9. I stood, then leaned forward again. “Should I call the police? Are you--”
“Congratulations,” she said tonelessly.
An almost impossibly warm hand grabbed my shoulder. I spun to see the pit boss I’d spoken to earlier. He gave an impressed smile. “Orin, was it? I’m impressed, truly. Would you mind if I had a word with you?”
I shot a look back at Selene who was dealing the next round of cards. Then I got to my feet, balling my hands into fists. “What did you do to her?”
The pit boss clasped his hands behind his back. “Nothing more, and nothing less than what I’m going to do to you. That is, offer you the chance to play.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The pit boss nodded his head towards a nearby slot machine. A woman in a wheelchair pulled a lever and watched the flashing numbers spin. They exploded in a cacophony of sirens and flashing lights. “WINNER WINNER WINNER!” The machine screeched.
The woman in the wheelchair put her feet on the ground and stood up on a pair of wobbly legs that had clearly never been used before.
“As in any other casino,” the pit boss said, “you must wager for the chance to win.”
“She... won the use of her legs?” I asked, feeling light-headed. “Wait,” I said. “I played blackjack just now. ‘Three years,’ Selene told me. What does ‘three years’ mean?” I asked.
“Three years of life, of course. Did you win?”
My mouth felt dry. “I-- Yes, I won.”
He smiled warmly. “Congratulations. I hope you enjoy them. I can tell you from personal experience that watching the decades pass is a bore. Give it some time and you’ll be back to spend them.”
I watched the pit boss’s face. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than me, and I was in my early thirties. I looked around at the casino. No one was playing with chips of any kind. “So what?” I asked. “I won years of life. That woman won the use of her legs. What else can a person win here?”
“Oh, almost anything. They can win almost anything you can imagine.”
A cold feeling settled in my stomach. “And what do they wager?”
His eyes flashed with greed. “Almost anything. They can wager almost anything you can possibly imagine. Anything equal in value to the item they want in return.” He nodded towards a nearby roulette table.
A man stood by the table, cradling his hands. “Another finger,” he called out. He only had three fingers remaining on his left hand. As I watched, the ball came to a stop, and another finger disappeared from his left hand.
The pit boss extended his hands. “Feel free to try any of our games. Bet and win whatever you’d like.” He reached out and snatched my hand. A feeling of intense warmth passed up my arm to my chest. “There,” he said. “I’ve even given you some house money to get you started. An extra decade of life, on me.”
I ripped my hand away, staring at him in horror. Then I looked back at Selene. Something clicked in my mind. “You offered her the chance to play. What did she want?” I asked.
“Her husband,” the pit boss said. “Quite the sad story. He died two years ago. She wanted him brought back to her.”
“What did she wager?” I asked.
“She wanted the chance to win a soul, the most valuable object in existence. I’m sure you can imagine what she needed to wager for the chance to win it. What she wagered is unimportant. The important question is: What do you want, Orin?”
I stared at Selene with a flat expression. “I’m sure you can imagine.”
His eyes flashed with greed again. “How wonderful. The casino could always make use of another dealer. Feel free to make your wager at any one of our games; I’ll be eagerly awaiting the results of your night. Oh, and do take advantage of our waitresses. We always supply food and drink for ‘high rollers’.” He walked away.
I spent the next few hours trying to decide which game to play. I was going to be wagering my soul, so I wanted the highest chance possible. Slots and roulette were out. I’d done some reading online about counting cards, so I figured that blackjack gave me the best odds.
I walked up to Selene’s table and sat down. “Bet?” she asked with that same toneless voice. “Three years,” I said.
I spent the next hour or so doing my best to remember how to count cards. I knew that low cards added one to my count and high cards decreased it by one, but the casino used three decks. I had read something about how that was supposed to change my calculation, but I couldn’t quite remember how.
Every time I won a hand, I cursed myself for not putting everything on the line. Every time I lost, I breathed a prayer of thanks that I’d waited. And all the while, I kept track of the count.
I had lost fifteen years of life when the count finally reached +5.
“Bet?” Selene asked.
“I wager my soul so you can be free,” I said.
The table around me fell silent. Selene’s eyes flickered, but she showed no other emotion as she dealt the cards. I watched my first card, punching the air in excitement when I saw a Jack. My excitement turned to ash when my second card was a four. Fourteen.
I looked at her hand. One card was facedown, but the faceup card was a King. I swore loudly, staring down at my hands.
“Hit?” she asked. The entire table was silently watching me.
“Hit,” I said, not looking down. The table erupted in cheers. I looked down to see a 7 atop my two other cards. 21. Blackjack.
I looked at Selene who flipped over her facedown card to reveal a 9. 19. I won.
The glassy look left her eyes immediately. She looked around in surprise, then her eyes locked on mine. “Orin?” she asked, then almost immediately began to cry. The entire casino broke out in cheers.
I grabbed her hand and headed for the elevator. The doors had begun to close when the pit boss reached out with a hand to stop them.
“Congratulations,” he said, beaming. He seemed to be honestly excited.
“Shouldn’t you be upset?” I asked.
“Not at all. Casinos love it when we have big winners. It inspires the other players to make larger bets. I imagine I’ll gain two or three dealers before the night is through from your performance.”
“Great,” I said flatly. “Now let us go.”
“Not yet,” he said. “You didn’t just win, Orin. You got a blackjack. And blackjack pays out 1.5 times your bet. You won your sister’s soul and more.”
I stared, not sure what to say. “What are you saying? I won half a soul extra?”
The pit boss grinned wildly. “Just remember what I said. You’ll find living for decades and decades to be a boring experience. After a few centuries, you’ll be back to gamble that half a soul away. Congratulations!”
He removed his hand, and the elevator doors slammed shut.
I helped Selene back to her house. Her children were relieved. I watched them cry, then moved into the kitchen to start making dinner.
It’s been a few days since that experience. The casino is still out there, and buses full of people still arrive. I… I cut my hand pretty bad a few days later. When I checked it an hour later, it had already healed, no scar or anything. I’m not sure exactly what I won at that casino, but there’s no way I’m ever going back.
X

I live in a small mining town in the mountains of Colorado. Someone is building a massive casino nearby, Pictures Included

I grew up in a small mountain town named Eureka. It was founded in the late 1800s during the gold rush, but after the mines dried up the town began its slow descent into decay. Half the houses are empty or abandoned now.
You can see a picture of the kind of houses here in Eureka:
Abandoned House
Non-abandoned House
When a massive construction project began nearby, it was the talk of the town for weeks. Why would they build something in a sleepy dying town like Eureka? It wasn’t until my sister Selene talked to a few construction workers that we discovered they were building a casino.
A casino up in the mountains, over two hours away from Denver. None of us could understand why they’d chosen here of all places. After a few months of work, the casino was done.
I took a picture of the town with the completed casino in the background to the right. The ten-story-structure sticks out like a sore thumb off in the distance.
Town+Casino
After the casino opened, they hired a few dozen members of the town, offering high paying jobs to work as dealers or cleaning staff. I was already employed as a firefighter, but my sister Selene got a job as a blackjack dealer. She’s a widow with two young kids, so the paycheck was a real lifesaver.
Still, something about the situation seemed too good to be true. The jobs over there paid far too well, and the management was far too accommodating. The fire station where I work is located high on a hill overlooking the town, so I began watching the casino from a distance each day.
I had initially thought that the casino was located in a terrible location, but I was apparently wrong. True, Eureka was hours from any major city, but despite that, a bus full of people arrived every morning and left every evening.
One night I was over at my parent’s house and had dinner with Selene and her kids. I asked her about her experience as a dealer.
“It’s Ok,” she said. “Just a little boring I guess.”
“Boring?” I asked. “I’m surprised you don’t have your hands full.”
“Why’s that?” she asked. “It’s like you said, Eureka’s too small. I never have people playing cards. The casino is almost always completely empty.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that. If the place was always empty, what happened to the people who I’d seen arriving on buses? “I’ve been keeping an eye on the building,” I said. “A bus full of people typically arrives around 9 AM every day.”
“Really?” she asked, looking confused. “If that’s true, I’ve never seen them.
“I can see it from the fire station,” I said. “If you head out for a smoke break at 9 AM, you’ll probably see them arriving.”
“Interesting,” she said. “I’ll do that. If they’re being processed for their organs or something, I’ll let you know.” She laughed.
“Har har,” I said sarcastically.
The next night she sent me a text calling me over. When I arrived, she was nearly breathless with excitement.
“Orin, You were right,” she said. “A big group of people did arrive, but they didn’t walk into my part of the casino. Instead, they all walked into an elevator at the back of the building. I’m not sure where that goes.” She looked thoughtful. “It was weird. They looked… How can I say it? Desperate? Something about the whole situation was very off. I’m gonna check out the elevator tomorrow.”
I told her to be careful, though, to be honest, I was excited to hear about what she discovered. When I visited my parent’s house the next night, I found her two kids there alone. They told me that Selene had never returned from work.
I called all her friends, then all our neighbors, but no one had seen her since she left for work that morning. Our conversations regarding the casino flooded my mind, then a plan began to form.
Early the next morning I walked across town in my nicest pair of jeans and a button-up shirt. I pushed through the door to the casino and saw that Selene wasn’t lying. The place was all but deserted. Three dozen slot machines crowded the walls surrounding a few tables interspersed throughout the floor of the casino. The only players in the whole building were Bob and Donald, two locals.
I walked up to a nearby table where Bridget, a girl I’d gone to high school with, was shuffling cards. She broke into a grin when she saw me. “Hey Orin, you here for a few rounds of blackjack?”
“I wish,” I said. “No, I’m here to ask about Selene. She never made it home last night.”
Bridget’s expression darkened. “Really? Have you asked around?”
“I already called around. Have you seen her?”
She shook her head. “No, our schedules rarely line up. I’ll be sure to let you know if I--” Her eyes focused on something behind me, and she cut herself off.
I turned around to see the casino’s pit boss watching us both. He was a tall thin man in an impeccably clean black suit. When I turned back towards Bridget, she was looking down at the table and shuffling cards absent-mindedly.
“Well, if you hear anything, let me know,” I said.
She nodded, so I turned around and headed for the pit boss. I stuck out my hand. The temperature of his hand was so hot that I had to pull my hand away after a few seconds.
“Have… have you seen my sister Selene?” I asked. “She hasn’t been seen since her shift here yesterday.”
He smiled. “Sir, this floor is for players. You’re more than welcome to head to the tellers for chips, but barring that I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
I stared at him for a long second before stalking towards the door. When I looked back, he was talking with Bridget.
I checked my watch. 8:55 AM, just as I’d planned. I walked around the back of the building and waited as the morning bus pulled around the building. I waited for the telltale hiss of the opening doors and the sound of people descending before I rounded the corner and joined the crowd. None of them paid any particular attention to me as I walked with them into the casino.
The crowd walked through a side door down a hallway to an elevator. Small groups of people entered the elevator as the rest of us waited for our turn. I shot a glance at the casino patrons, surprised at their diversity. There seemed to be people from all different countries and ethnicities. I heard one speaking Japanese and another speaking what sounded like an African language.
My turn came along with a few other patrons in the elevator. A sickly woman hobbled into the elevator beside me carrying an IV that was still connected to one of her veins. We piled in and rode up to the top.
The elevator rose for a few long seconds. I wasn’t sure what I would find, but I steeled myself for something horrible. The elevator’s speaker let out a TING, then the doors opened.
We all walked out onto what looked like a standard casino. Another few dozen slot machines ringed the walls, but on this floor, they were almost all occupied by customers. I took in the scene, confused at why they’d have a ground floor that was almost completely empty when this place was almost--
Selene was dealing cards at a nearby table.
I jogged over and sat down at an open seat. None of the players around me paid me much attention.
“Selene!” I said. “Are you OK? Did you spend the night here last night?”
Her eyes were glassy and confused. She looked up at me with a dumb expression and didn’t respond to my question.
“Selene?” I asked.
“What’s your bet?” she asked me. “This table is for blackjack players only.”
“I…” I trailed off, looking at the players around me. None of them were betting with chips of any kind. “What’s the minimum bet?” I asked.
“Three years,” she responded.
“Three years then,” I said, not knowing what that referred to.
Selene nodded, then began dealing cards. I shot a look down at my hand. King and a 9. Selene dealt out cards for herself, showing a 9. I stood, then leaned forward again. “Should I call the police? Are you--”
“Congratulations,” she said tonelessly.
An almost impossibly warm hand grabbed my shoulder. I spun to see the pit boss I’d spoken to earlier. He gave an impressed smile. “Orin, was it? I’m impressed, truly. Would you mind if I had a word with you?”
I shot a look back at Selene who was dealing the next round of cards. Then I got to my feet, balling my hands into fists. “What did you do to her?”
The pit boss clasped his hands behind his back. “Nothing more, and nothing less than what I’m going to do to you. That is, offer you the chance to play.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The pit boss nodded his head towards a nearby slot machine. A woman in a wheelchair pulled a lever and watched the flashing numbers spin. They exploded in a cacophony of sirens and flashing lights. “WINNER WINNER WINNER!” The machine screeched.
The woman in the wheelchair put her feet on the ground and stood up on a pair of wobbly legs that had clearly never been used before.
“As in any other casino,” the pit boss said, “you must wager for the chance to win.”
“She... won the use of her legs?” I asked, feeling light-headed. “Wait,” I said. “I played blackjack just now. ‘Three years,’ Selene told me. What does ‘three years’ mean?” I asked.
“Three years of life, of course. Did you win?”
My mouth felt dry. “I-- Yes, I won.”
He smiled warmly. “Congratulations. I hope you enjoy them. I can tell you from personal experience that watching the decades pass is a bore. Give it some time and you’ll be back to spend them.”
I watched the pit boss’s face. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than me, and I was in my early thirties. I looked around at the casino. No one was playing with chips of any kind. “So what?” I asked. “I won years of life. That woman won the use of her legs. What else can a person win here?”
“Oh, almost anything. They can win almost anything you can imagine.”
A cold feeling settled in my stomach. “And what do they wager?”
His eyes flashed with greed. “Almost anything. They can wager almost anything you can possibly imagine. Anything equal in value to the item they want in return.” He nodded towards a nearby roulette table.
A man stood by the table, cradling his hands. “Another finger,” he called out. He only had three fingers remaining on his left hand. As I watched, the ball came to a stop, and another finger disappeared from his left hand.
The pit boss extended his hands. “Feel free to try any of our games. Bet and win whatever you’d like.” He reached out and snatched my hand. A feeling of intense warmth passed up my arm to my chest. “There,” he said. “I’ve even given you some house money to get you started. An extra decade of life, on me.”
I ripped my hand away, staring at him in horror. Then I looked back at Selene. Something clicked in my mind. “You offered her the chance to play. What did she want?” I asked.
“Her husband,” the pit boss said. “Quite the sad story. He died two years ago. She wanted him brought back to her.”
“What did she wager?” I asked.
“She wanted the chance to win a soul, the most valuable object in existence. I’m sure you can imagine what she needed to wager for the chance to win it. What she wagered is unimportant. The important question is: What do you want, Orin?”
I stared at Selene with a flat expression. “I’m sure you can imagine.”
His eyes flashed with greed again. “How wonderful. The casino could always make use of another dealer. Feel free to make your wager at any one of our games; I’ll be eagerly awaiting the results of your night. Oh, and do take advantage of our waitresses. We always supply food and drink for ‘high rollers’.” He walked away.
I spent the next few hours trying to decide which game to play. I was going to be wagering my soul, so I wanted the highest chance possible. Slots and roulette were out. I’d done some reading online about counting cards, so I figured that blackjack gave me the best odds.
I walked up to Selene’s table and sat down. “Bet?” she asked with that same toneless voice. “Three years,” I said.
I spent the next hour or so doing my best to remember how to count cards. I knew that low cards added one to my count and high cards decreased it by one, but the casino used three decks. I had read something about how that was supposed to change my calculation, but I couldn’t quite remember how.
Every time I won a hand, I cursed myself for not putting everything on the line. Every time I lost, I breathed a prayer of thanks that I’d waited. And all the while, I kept track of the count.
I had lost fifteen years of life when the count finally reached +5.
“Bet?” Selene asked.
“I wager my soul so you can be free,” I said.
The table around me fell silent. Selene’s eyes flickered, but she showed no other emotion as she dealt the cards. I watched my first card, punching the air in excitement when I saw a Jack. My excitement turned to ash when my second card was a four. Fourteen.
I looked at her hand. One card was facedown, but the faceup card was a King. I swore loudly, staring down at my hands.
“Hit?” she asked. The entire table was silently watching me.
“Hit,” I said, not looking down. The table erupted in cheers. I looked down to see a 7 atop my two other cards. 21. Blackjack.
I looked at Selene who flipped over her facedown card to reveal a 9. 19. I won.
The glassy look left her eyes immediately. She looked around in surprise, then her eyes locked on mine. “Orin?” she asked, then almost immediately began to cry. The entire casino broke out in cheers.
I grabbed her hand and headed for the elevator. The doors had begun to close when the pit boss reached out with a hand to stop them.
“Congratulations,” he said, beaming. He seemed to be honestly excited.
“Shouldn’t you be upset?” I asked.
“Not at all. Casinos love it when we have big winners. It inspires the other players to make larger bets. I imagine I’ll gain two or three dealers before the night is through from your performance.”
“Great,” I said flatly. “Now let us go.”
“Not yet,” he said. “You didn’t just win, Orin. You got a blackjack. And blackjack pays out 1.5 times your bet. You won your sister’s soul and more.”
I stared, not sure what to say. “What are you saying? I won half a soul extra?”
The pit boss grinned wildly. “Just remember what I said. You’ll find living for decades and decades to be a boring experience. After a few centuries, you’ll be back to gamble that half a soul away. Congratulations!”
He removed his hand, and the elevator doors slammed shut.
I helped Selene back to her house. Her children were relieved. I watched them cry, then moved into the kitchen to start making dinner.
It’s been a few days since that experience. The casino is still out there, and buses full of people still arrive. I… I cut my hand pretty bad a few days later. When I checked it an hour later, it had already healed, no scar or anything. I’m not sure exactly what I won at that casino, but there’s no way I’m ever going back.
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r/StarWarsCantina, which is the best cantina scene (besides Mos Eisley)?

"Mos Eisley Spaceport. Never again will you find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious."
In the original Star Wars, Chalmun's Spaceport Cantina (yeah I just found out what it was actually called, thanks Wookieepedia) introduced us to the breadth of bizarre alien creatures in the Star Wars galaxy, all crammed in a seedy bar on a backwater planet. From the hammer-headed Ithorian designed by Ron Cobb to the devilish Devaronian designed by Rick Baker, Lucas's creative team helped bring a universe of seemingly limitless possibilities to life in one short sequence. The scene has had a number of homages and imitations in other entries of the saga, but how do they all stack up compared to the original and arguably the best?
There's some criteria for what constitutes a "cantina" scene. It has to be some kind of enclosed environment featuring a plethora of unique alien designs with tonnes of visible personality as well as an overall lively though somewhat intimidating atmosphere for the protagonists. I'll be ranking them all out of 10 on the Cantina Factor. I'll only be counting the mainline "episodes" of the saga.
Episode V... doesn't have a cantina scene. The closest thing is the bounty hunter gathering on the Star Destroyer bridge, but... it doesn't really have the same feel and is a bit too brief to count. Move along, move along.
Episode VI, on the other hand, throws us right into the 24/7 partyhouse that it Jabba's Palace. A stew of filth and debauchery surpassing Mos Eisley, you almost feel dirty just looking at this place. Jabba is truly the Fisher King of his establishment, everything is as grimy and seedy as the giant slug himself. We see Jabba's entourage of performers, jesters and burlesque dancers, as well as servants, guards, bounty hunters, VIPs and assorted criminal scum. Compared to Mos Eisley, we get to see this litany of bizarre characters in greater focus, with many turning out to be quite important figures in the expanded universe. The main centres of attraction include: Jabba's pale, weak-minded Twi'lek majordomo Bib Fortuna; the axe-wielding, boar-like Gamorrean Guards; Jabba's cackling jester Salacious B. Crumb; Boba Fett flirting with girls; Oola the sexy Twi'lek slave dancer who's fed to the Rancor; Malakili the Rancor keeper who tenderly weeps when his beloved pet is crushed to death; EV-9D9 the sadistic torture droid; Ephant Mon the horrifically ugly elephant thing who is apparently Jabba's best mate; and last but not least, Max Rebo the cute blue DJ. Bossk the Trandoshan bounty hunter also has a blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameo. The 1997 Special Edition controversially extends the song-and-dance number with Sy Snootles, replacing her (admittedly awful) puppet with CGI and adding an entirely new singer, Joh Yowza, who obnoxiously mugs the camera during his solo. Overall, the Jabba's Palace scene is in many ways better than the original Mos Eisley cantina scene, but it suffers greatly in the Special Edition... still, nothing can stop it ranking a solid 9/10 on the Cantina Factor.
With an enhanced budget and new fangled digital effects technology, Episode I is basically one long creature-feature. There's not really a single scene quite like Mos Eisley, as nearly every scene seems to have crowds of alien extras wandering around. Ironically, we don't see any cantina-like locations on Tatooine in the film, though the Boonta Eve Classic podrace scene provides us a decent alternative. All of the greatest podracers in the Outer Rim gathered together with their own idiosyncratic vehicles, including Anakin's cruel arch-rival Sebulba, the four-armed Gasgano, and the legend himself Ben Quadrinaros. Pit droids wander around providing some visual comedy. We see Jabba and Gardulla presiding over the event, with live race commentary provided in both Basic and Huttese by the hammy two-headed Fodesinbeed Annodue, a.k.a. Fode and Beed. Anakin's slave friends, including the young Rhodian played by Warwick Davis, also appear to cheer him on. However, considering that the rest of the film shoves so many CGI alien mugs in our faces all the way through, it doesn't have quite as much impact. 6/10.
In Episode II, we get the Outlander Club on Coruscant during Obi-Wan and Anakin's citywide chase for the bounty hunter Zam Wessell. As an avid clubber myself (not so much now, thanks COVID), I naturally like this scene and it's also cool to see the night life on a civilised Core World for once. On the downside, we don't get a good look at many quirky alien characters, but the one who does make an impression is no less than excellent: the deathstick dealer Elan Sleazebaggio. I wonder if he did go home and rethink his life? The scene also started the fan theory that Obi-Wan might be an alcoholic, seeing as he eagerly heads straight to the bar for some shots like the absolute legend he is. The "Jedi causes commotion with lightsaber, everyone looks then just carries on as normal" beat is given a tribute too. Moreover, the Outlander Club is used in an awesome fan film called Hell's Club which mashes together various iconic club scenes from other movies -- Ewan McGregor's Obi-Wan encounters Ewan McGregor's Renton from Trainspotting while Tony Manero from Saturday Night Fever leers at Anakin a little too long (also the madness makes Carlito's death no less sad, RIP). 8/10.
Episode III, there isn't one, skip.
Being a soft remake of Episode IV, Episode VII gives us a straightforward cantina scene with Maz Kanata's Castle on Takodana. Takodana might be one of my favourite locations in the whole saga. On paper it's an unremarkable forest planet but there's something... tangible about it. The fact that it was filmed in a real forest and a real set for the castle rather than a greenscreen backdrop definitely helps. Beyond Kanata herself, we see glimpses of some interesting looking characters, including: Grummgar the hulking big game hunter; Bazine Netal the enigmatic First Order spy who rats on BB-8; and most memorable of all, Sidon Ithano a.k.a. The Crimson Corsair, the red-garbed mercenary who Finn offers to join up with. Among the flags adorning the castle, you can also see the emblem of the real life charity organisation, the 501st Legion. Nice touch. Will we ever find out how the Skywalker lightsaber got there though? 9/10.
Episode VIII gives us the controversial Canto Bight on planet Cantonica. I'm very much pro-Canto Bight, it's a perfect 'anti-Mos Eisley'. Rather than a usual wretched hive of destitute criminals, Cantonica is a luxury casino resort filled with the disgusting, decadent elite of the galaxy. Crooks of a different breed. The aesthetic is great, it's all white and clean but filled with some truly repulsive-looking aliens squeezed into tight tuxedos and dresses. Like Finn, it's easy to get lost in the glitz and glamour until you see what it's all built on, then you can cheer when the Fathiers tear it all down. As bad as it all is, a part of me still finds Canto Bight appealing -- I wouldn't mind getting suited and booted and playing a bit of roulette (or the Star Wars verse equivalent of it, idfk) with some fuckin' weird aliens. Speaking of, let's get to some. We've got: Countess Alissyndrex delga Cantonica Provincion, the ruler of the town who can only be described as a purple slab of meat with a human face; Lexo Sooger the long-armed masseur; Slowen Lo the busybody Abendedo who almost destroys the Resistance because Finn and Rose parked on a beach; the Cthulhu-esque Palandag jazz band, somehow weirder than the Modal Nodes from Mos Eisley; Dobbu Scay the diminutive monocled alien who drunkenly mistakes BB-8 for a slot machine, also played by Mark Hamill; Justin Theroux and doll-faced model Lily Cole cameoing as the suave "Master Codebreaker" and his square-haired partner respectively; and of course, Benicio del Toro's "DJ" imprisoned down in the cells. Below the casino itself, we see the abusive slavery practices on both animals and children, with the boy Temiri Blagg revealing himself as Force-sensitive in the ending shot of the film after being inspired by the legend of Luke Skywalker. Whether or not you like its role in the story, it's a damn good alien cantina, 10/10.
Finally, we get to Episode IX. It's easy to miss because of how insanely fast-paced the film is, but yeah, there is a cantina scene on Kijimi, in the Spice Runner Den. I always wondered if this planet is a reference to Hideo Kojima, makes sense considering he and J.J. Abrams are friends, though apparently it's also a reference to some Japanese synthesizer brand. It's nothing to write home about. I mean, yeah, we're introduced to Zorii Bliss and Babu Frik, the best character in the entire trilogy, but what else is there? Oh yeah, a cameo from John freakin' Williams as the bartender Oma Tres. But yeah, apart from that, it's bland and forgettable, there are some aliens dotted around but none of them are focused on particularly. 3/10.
And there you have it. I felt weird about ranking Mos Eisley itself with its own imitators when it originated the whole trope, so I leave that one to you guys. Which is your favourite?

Summer 2019 - The Swimsuit Swordmaster Seven Colored Showdown: Start - Part 2

Katsushika Hokusai:
Ehee! Now I’m getting ye!
Ye have ties with Miyamoto Musashi! Ye art the unparalleled, great swordmaster’s adopted son, Miyamoto Iori!
One of the remarkable people who inherited Niten Ichi-ryū on their passing, truly worth of being a heroic spirit, and truly suiting to be a Swimsuit Swordmaster!
However, it is unbelievable still! How Miyamoto Iori-dono was a woman!
Ye shocked me well and good! Ye did!
Siegfried:
…It's a discrepancy from the truth we're familiar with, but the feats from their their myths, legends, and history are still extraordinary.
Katsushika Hokusai:
Is that so then…
Well, that goes for I as well! Seein’ as I yet be the infamous Katsushika Hokusai despite bein' a woman!
Err, disregard Father here with that. He didn’t used to spit ink.

[Miyamoto] / [Iori]

Miyamoto Iori:
Yep.

[Musashi-chan…?]

Miyamoto Iori:
Do you know my teacher? Hahaha, cut it out. We resemble each other, but that’s it.
Mash:
Yes, you seem like peas in a pod to me…Is it from the blood relation you have with them?
Miyamoto Iori:
Are you kiddin’ me?! Iori-kun isn’t my biological child, y’know!
Mash:
?
Miyamoto Iori:
Oh, uh, oopsie! You guys know Musashi-dono, and probably the irregular one to pan-human history, who’s a girl, right? I know that because I’m also a Heroic Spirit of pan-human history, but there’s no-relation otherwise!
I just resemble them. That’s all there is. Yep. Mhm.

[……………]

Miyamoto Iori:
…I-I mean, I get how the misconception came up from our faces, but it’s nothing. Nothing!
I am Miyamoto Iori. One of the Swimsuit Swordmasters beckoned here, to Las Vegas!
And concerning the Swimsuit Swordmaster Revered Bout---
I know a lot more than others about this Swimsuit Swordmaster Seven Colored Showdown.
...Wanna hear the details?

[Yeah, that’d be great] / [We did need to info gather]

Miyamoto Iori:
Fufu, right! I’ll tell you what I know, and I’ll be concise about it too!
I’d be glad to so long as I can get some udon or burgers!

[Udon…]

Miyamoto Iori:
Uhhhhhh!
Did I say "Oodawn"? I meant Vegas food, Vegas food!
For now, just a burger…would be ok…

Getting Miyamoto their meal, she begins to explain what she knows.

Miyamoto Iori:
---The Dazzling Las Vegas!
It already existed before, but this Las Vegas is different from the normal town.
As someone from modern times, you can tell by looking at it, right? It should be easy for you to see that.
But yes, this town exists as an arena for the Swimsuit Swordmasters to gather to!
And at the same time, it exists with the full functions of Las Vegas. In other words…
It’s a luxorious, Great Casino City! Aside from battling each other, you can go have fun in the casinos!
It’s fine to battle as a swordmaster. It’s fine to play around in your swimsuit.
It doesn’t matter if you choose to battle or play if you’re a Swimsuit Swordmaster! It’s plenty rational!
In the actual Las Vegas, the casinos are managed and taken care of by enterprises and grand hotels, but…
In this Dazzling Las Vegas, guess what! Each and every big name casino is controlled by a Swimsuit Swordmaster!
Altogether, there are 5 great casinos! In other words, each casino is controlled by each individual group out of the 5 Swimsuit Swordmasters!
Out of these 5…
One has already proven to be different from the other Swimsuit Swordmasters. They’ve been singularly lauded as the mightiest, and most powerful out of all of them---
The Swimsuit Lion King, Artoria Ruler!
She’s the manager of Casino Camelot, and in essence, dominates this Dazzling Las Vegas!
Katsushika Hokusai:
I see, now I get the main gist of it!
Art-oria, ru-rah? It’d be grand of us to have a bout with them, and test her merit!
Let’s act quick before we change our minds!
Siegfried:
I see, that sounds logical.
Artoria Ruler. It sounds like we should at least make contact with this person.
The chance are very high that they possess the Holy Grail, because of their dominance over this newly founded city.
Additionally…
It may also be the source behind our irregular Saint Graphs and Spiritron Outfits.
Mash:
I think so too!
If they’re safeguarding the Holy Grail, then we'd be able to eliminate this microscopic Singularity too.

[Let’s get going!] / [Let’s investigate the Casino Camelot!]

Miyamoto Iori:
(Chomp, snarf)
Thanks fer’ the burger! It was super yummy.
So, you wanna head off to Casino Camelot? It’s right over there, the big white walled castle.
Hm---…
...
…I don’t. I don’t recommend going there~.
Katsushika Hokusai:
Don’t ye be getting’ dull on us now! We said how we must visit them, so we could at least take a peak!
Let us depart in haste! Mastah!
Sir Jikufurito, ye may tag along as well, lest ye get left behind!
With the way we sliced those large birds that blanketed the skies, we should have a complete victory in this Swimsuit Swordmaster Showdown!
Miyamoto Iori:
……..
(They’re worked up like this was their first victory. They seem more like a samurai going through a coming of age ceremony…)
(And compared to the others, she’s more like a newborn fawn…)
(But she's overflowing with untold potential. The four swords she wields seem to suit her too)
(This girl, perhaps she’s…)
Katsushika Hokusai:
Come, lets get a move on!

Hokusai darts off, but eventually runs into an invisible wall at the castle-casino.

Katsushika Hokusai:
…Nowuahh!?
W-what sort of tickery is this…I can see it in front of me, but can’t draw closer…I cannot advance to the castle!
Seems to be an invisible wall of sorts…but if its just a wall…

She attempts to cut it, to little avail.

Katsushika Hokusai:
Kuu!
Like I thought! My katana matters not!
Voice:
---That spirit of yours is good.
Alas, you don’t appear to hold a letter of challenge, fufu. Yet, I do respect the unguided rush attack to test the waters.
You cannot pierce this wall. Not even as a Swimsuit Swordmaster.
Without my own elegance, without my own blade, it is a futile effort. Because…

Swimsuit Bunny Arthur (Lancer) Ruler steps forward.

???:
I am a Swordmaster as well. You may call me The Swimsuit Lion King. Unjust Swimsuit Swordmasters shall be not allowed entry here, and ignored thus.
...Mm?
Katsushika Hokusai:
….ch!
(H-how could this be…it’s as if the weight of the heavens are falling upon me…!)
(I-impossible, could this be that thing others speak of!? The feeling of a blade against your throat, a killing intent!?)
(Uwah----, Uwah---! Have I only now come to understand a sort of killing intent by the blade!?)
(But I’m already a real Swordwielding Swordmaster of Swords, so it should be fine!)
Swimsuit Lion King:
Hmph. Four swords.
How interesting. Your appearance and your many blades remind me of a certain someone.
---Your True Name?
Katsushika Hokusai:
Ka, Ka, Katsushika Hokusai! Ukiyo-e artist, now a Swordwielding Swordmaster of Swords, a nymph of ambitions!
Swimsuit Lion King:
Well well. So you’re one with numerous titles.
Katsushika HokusauI:
S-shaddap! I’m seriously serious about seriously being serious!
What’s wrong with having a buncha pitches! "Lion King" sounds like a motto from somethin' else too!

The Lion King continues to smile, which freaks out Hokusai even more.

Miyamoto Iori:
Wait wait wait! Hooooold on for a sec! You, did you just say that we can’t bust through this?
Katsushika Hokusai:
Elder Sis Iori! I-I mean, wow, ye sure did take y-yer time getting’ here…
Swimsuit Lion King:
“Iori”?
Miyamoto Iori:
Yes! Niten Ichi-ryū wielder, Miyamoto Iori here!
Also with me is the western dragon slayer Swimsuit Master, my actual Master, and their sweet kohai-chan!
Siegfried:
‘Sup.
Mash:
My name is Mash Kyrielight!

[So she’s a bunny this time…] / [Wait, you aren’t one of the Swimsuit Swordmasters right]

Swimsuit Lion King:
I am the Swimsuit Lion King. I am the great ruler of this Casino Camelot.
Feh, if you are not aware of who I am, then I shall educate you. This bunny outfit is the uniform of my Casino.
Could that one --- be a rabbit who has gained intellect?
Fou:
Fo-u…
Swimsuit Lion King:
Regardless, I believe that this Miyamoto has their aim set on me as a fellow Swimsuit Swordmaster.
Miyamoto Iori:
R-really~? Who can say for sure? Whistle, whistle~
Siegfried:
What are you doing, Iori.
Mash:
Um, I'm worried, about how she's just whistling like that for now...
Siegfried:
??
Miyamoto Iori:
So, what’s this problem about me setting my sights on you? For the Swimsuit Swordsmaster Seven Colored Showdown---
There isn’t a rule against cooperating with others in this “Revered Bout”!
Everyone’s against each other, but there’s nothing against cooperation! So I took that idea and made some allies!
Swimsuit Lion King:
…Fufu, that all checks out.
Katsushika Hokusai:
Heeeeh, is that what this is? A Swordwielding Swordmaster of Swords going 1 on 1 would be a magnificent show, yet...
…that’d go against it all! Totally! That’d be like how the 47 rōnin showed up at Kira Yoshinaka’s together uninvited!
Or like Miyamoto Musashi hearing the noises of the great Yoshioka clan while alone, and slicing them up!
…………….
…Nn, but, yeah. I think a Swordwielding Swordmaster of Swords would probably have a splendid 1 on 1s.
Y’know, right Mastah? Like the battle on Ganryū-jima! The 1 on 1 of genius swordsmen at Ganryū, with Shinmen Musashi! A katana vs an oar!
And well --- ye can’t step around how cool that battle was!
Miyamoto Iori:
(Mu. So that time was cool to her…I see, so Hokusai-chan is an honorable swordsman)
Katsushika Hokusai:
I’d be lyin’ to myself if I had said that I wasn’t yearning for a 1 on 1.
At least one fight would be nice, because I’m here now as a swordsman. A 1 on 1! I wanna do that!
Siegfried:
…I can’t say I understand you enthusiasm.
Katsushika Hokusai:

Y-ye. What do ye think yer sayin’?
Miyamoto Iori:
It’s okay, it got through to me. I mean, yeah. Right? They say might makes right.
You came to wield the power of the Holy Grail on your own as a Swimsuit Swordmaster, right?
But since a 1 on 1 would be pretty risky for you, I think a 6 on 1 would be fair.
Yeah, a 6 on 1 would be cool against big sis Iori.
(Wink)

[That look…] / [Those numbers aren’t just for you, right?]

Miyamoto Iori:
Whistle, Whistle~
Mash:
Ah, Iori-san’s whistling again…!
Swimsuit Lion King:
…A fair and square, 1 on 1?
Your words are in good honors. I shall answer that wish here and now.
Miyamoto Iori:
Huh, wha-!?
Swimsuit Lion King:
There was some correctness in Miyamoto’s words: a one on one battle against a Swimsuit Swordmaster casino manager would be poor in scope.
However. If a Swimsuit Swordmaster were to stray, and act on their own, a one on one battle would be seen as fair play.
---In other words.
You two may cross blades with one another.
Miyamoto Iori:
Wai-, hold hold hold hold up there, pardner! That’s logical, but…
Swimsuit Lion King:
You have led that girl thus far. And you have given yourself the role of teaching her to be a Swimsuit Swordmaster.
Do not fret. In a special case, I shall grant you a [Chosen Battleground] without the need of a [Letter of Challenge].
I am the Swimsuit Lion King. I am the apex Swimsuit Swordmaster, as well as the strongest casino manager in Dazzling Las Vegas.
Such a trifling matter will come at no issue for me.
Now --- behold all this city has to offer, as you dance and splash among this performance for passersby!
SWIMSUIT SWORDMASTER SEVEN COLORED SHOWDOWN!

Everything begins to shake, and a platform emerges from the ground, trapping Hokusai and Iori!

Katsushika Hokusai:
Wh-!!
Wh, whawha, w-w-w-w-what was that!? With her indication…things changed in a moment!
Siegfried:
This dense mana! Master!
Mash:
Could it be…is this a Reality Marble…? Our connection with the Wondering Sea has been severed too, senpai!!
Miyamoto Iori:
…It’s too late to do anything now.
The Swimsuit Lion King has ushered forth a [Chosen Battleground], and now the selected Swimsuit Swordmasters must do battle.
Katsushika Hokusai:
Ye make it sound like we ought to. Yet if I don’t want to, I need not do so.
Miyamoto Iori:
Yeah, but! I feel the same as as you, but!
It’s already here! If we don’t fight…
If we don’t fight, even a bit…we won’t be able to get out of here…!
Siegfried:

Mash:
You mean…there’s no way out unless you fight…
Katsushika Hokusai:
Heh.
This ain’t good. But, we are Swimsuit Swordmasters.
I still don’t know quite what a Swimsuit Swordmaster really does, but I can understand this much.
Swimsuits, Swordmasters. Elegance, and blades.
In other words, elegance must be seen in twine with swordsmanship! So then---
Kill or be killed…that the point to this? If that’s true, then that’s some fantastically wrong “elegance”.
Miyamoto Iori:
It’s as you say. It can be somewhat painful, but I don't believe you need to die.
This is why all Swimsuit Swordmasters are Heroic Spirits: so long as their Spirit Origin remains unharmed, it’s possible to be restored to full.
Katsushika Hokusai:
That true? Makes sense.
Fine by me.
Siegfried:
Hokusai…
Katsushika Hokusai:
I’ve already decided that I’ll become the strongest Swimsuit Swordmaster! I shall respect this wish and do battle with Miyamoto Iori’s Niten Ichi-ryū as such!
Come! Come, come, come! With my waist drawn blade---
I’ll sense even a gunman’s adept strikes! Try to get past me, Iori-dono! Ye shall be diced long before ye can try!
Now, unsheathe thine blade! How am I now!? Iori-dono!
Miyamoto Iori:
(You have an impressive disposition, Katsushika Ōi! Okay, I’ll get serious too!)
Very well then, novice swordsman! The fun and games are over!
Your current skills are immature, and as a nymph, the heavens excite you still. And they shall witness your catastrophe in your perfect lack of preparations!
Embrace destiny, and hold fast to all you possess! I, Miyamoto Iori, shall answer your call, my opponent!
Ah, but let me change a bit before all that happens. This’ll be better for a Revered Bout!

Musashi changes from her 2nd ascension, to her 1st one.

Mash:
That’s…! Iori-san put on a really sporty outfit!?

[A sporty, competitive swimsuit for swordplay!] / […Well done…]

Miyamoto Iori:
For my very first fight, a Western outfit wouldn’t be very elegant, y’know? It’s summer too, and I wanna be pool side!
This doesn’t mean I'm going easy on you though! Get ready, Katsushika Hokusai!
Katsushika Hokusai: Ohoho, ye better believe I’m ready! Come, have at you --- in victory, or defeat!

---------------------------------------------------------------------
(Merlin, announcing)

LAS VEGAS SWIMSUIT SWORDMASTER SEVEN COLORED SHOWDOWN
KATSUSHIKA HOKUSAI
VS.
“DYNAMITE COMPETITIVE SWIMSUIT”: MIYAMOTO IORI
COME, LET THE MATCH---
BEGIN!

---------------------------------------------------------------------
The two fight 1 v 1, and eventually Hokusai gets put on the ropes.

Katsushika Hokusai:
---yer strong!
No, no, nononono! It’ll take more than that!
Those born in Edo move from one place to another like a carp streamer blown by May winds!
An infamous waterfall screen, a pilgrimage through the country, the fish climbs the waterfall of evening; answer my summons!
Now then, if you catch sight of them, send them back to their roots!
Kirifuri! Kannon! Aoi! Rouben! Yoshitsune! Yourou! Ono! Amida!
---[Waterfall Tour of the Regions]!!

Hokusai releases her NP on Miyamoto!

Miyamoto Iori:
What the----!?

Iori is taken upstream through Hokusai’s attacks, and upon crashing back down, kneels in defeat.

Miyamoto Iori:
…I give! Your Waterfall Tour of the Regions was splendid!
Katsushika Hokusai:
Hehh, hah…hah…hah…
…huh, what’d ye say…I’ve…won…?
Swimsuit Lion King:
Enough! Game, set!
Swimsuit Swordmaster Revered Bout, First Color! Here stands the victor! Revere the Beach Beauty, Katsushika Hokusai!
Siegfried:
Both were splendid. For a moment, Iori’s blade seemed to falter, yet…
No, I must have been imagining it. It was a wonderful sight to behold.
Katsushika Hokusai:
Zehahh…V-victory! See how tall I stand now, Mastah!
[You’re amazing, Orei-san!] [Congrats on your win!]
Katsushika Hokusai:
Ooh yes!
Miyamoto Iori:
My my, looks like Miyamoto Iori’s been completely defeated. Perhaps it was the voice of the heavens telling me to train my new junior.
Hokusai-san, you swordsmanship was incredible. I really mean it.
At the end there, you struck at me using your mind and body as one…something I didn’t predict.
Katsushika Hokusai:
??
Swimsuit Lion King:
Fufu.
Indeed, this Swimsuit Swordmaster, the Beach Beauty Hokusai-san, may have some hidden potential yet.
However, concerning Miyamoto…I believe it’s about time you drop this act of yours.
Despite being the oldest competitor among the Las Vegas Swimsuit Swordmasters, you do not hold a casino to your own, and continue to wonder.
You are a disgrace to us Swimsuit Swordmasters. Please make an effort for yourself.
That’s all I have to say for now.

The Lion King walks back into her casino, barrier still intact.

Katsushika Hokusai:
Ah, wait! Wait right there! Swimsuit Lion King-san!!

She comes back.

Swimsuit Lion King:
…What is it.
Katsushika Hokusai:
Ye be the greatest person in all Ras Vegahs, yeah? Then come, clash blades with me right now.
Swimsuit Lion King:
So that’s what you want.
Katsushika Hokusai:
Once I win against you, I’ll be the strongest Swimsuit Swordmaster…didn’t you say?
Siegfried:
……………
Swimsuit Lion King:
Fu, I don’t believe this. You think you stand at the summit of Las Vegas with a single win?
Mash:

Katsushika Hokusai:
What’re ye gettin’ at…that battle was for…
Swimsuit Lion King:
That was naught but a single battle, nay, a single color! The strongest Swimsuit Swordsman must gather all Seven Colors using extreme elegance and skill!
Mash:
Seven Colors…do you mean we need to have 7 battles!?
Swimsuit Lion King:
Correct.
In this Las Vegas, there are 5 Swimsuit Swordsman casino managers, including myself.
If you wish to be known as the strongest Swimsuit Swordsman, then you must defeat all of the Swimsuit Swordsman casino managers.
Since you’ve managed to acquire a win already, surely beating the rest will be no problem…
For to be the strongest, means ---

She grins.

Swimsuit Lion King:
To have dominance over Dazzling Las Vegas. Once you have done that, then I, the Swimsuit Lion King, shall be your opponent.

She sparks with energy, making the ground tremble and shake, demonstrating just how strong she really is.

Katsushika Hokusai:
Ku…!
(This killing intent, the feeling of the blade, is so heavy…! As I thought, this mighty one is truly the strongest of all Swimsuit Swordmasters!)
(B-but in the end…it’ll be…me!)
Swimsuit Lion King:
The strongest Swimsuit Swordmaster. If you yet wish to obtain this title, Beach Beauty....
Then you must make yourself fit for it here in Dazzling Las Vegas. Put on a show of a fight, and fight as if you’re putting on a show.
Until then --- I shall be waiting. For you.

The Lion King goes into her castle for real this time, and leaves us upfront with the barrier.

Katsushika Hokusai:
S-she left…
However, there’s quite a few other beauties in this world to tackle! Well, ‘sides from Iori-dono there’s Five Fingers to take on, then we can make an appearance for that majestic Swimsuit Lion King…
Haah…I’m already so enthralled…
Miyamoto Iori:
Huh? What, did you say I was beautiful? Ahahahaha, don’t say that again, c’mon, fufufufu, no more, totally, no more, ehehe…

[Iori-san] / […You’re really Musashi-chan, right?]
Option 1:

Miyamoto Iori:
Huh, did you think I was her? Ahahaha no, c’mon, I’ve already lost, ahahahaha…

Option 2:

Miyamoto Iori:
GOHBUGHBOHG! A-Ahahahaha, what're you saying, I'm Miyamoto Iroi, ahaha!!
Fou:
Pho-uny...
Miyamoto Iori:
Alrighty! What’re we doin’ next, you guys?
Katsushika Hokusai:
That’s obvious, ain’t it! Aah, but perhaps we should withdraw for now!
There’s 5 kajino maneger Swimsuit Swordmasters! We gotta beat ‘em all, and get those Seven Colors!
I’ll be the strongest Swimsuit Swordmaster! The one who’ll get crowned that title --- will be me!
Siegfried:
…We couldn’t support you due to that 1 on 1 a while ago, but next time I shall brandish my blade alongside you.
I have no desire to be crowned strongest Swimsuit Swordmaster, but only to relinquish the Holy Grail from the Swimsuit Lion King. I will fight for that purpose.
If we seek to keep fighting in turn, then we should seek out more information about the others, to prevent this situation from happening again.
Mash:
I-I agree. Casino Camelot is shrouded by a powerful bounded field, but---
Judging by what she told us, if we defeat the others, then we’ll get a second chance to face her again!

[Right] / [Looks like it’s all we can do, so let’s go!]

Katsushika Hokusai:
Ooh! I’m comin’ for you, Swimsuit Lion King!
Miyamoto Iori:
Do do doo ♪ Thanks for this wonderful team up. No one can beat [Guda] and their friends ★
I’ll act as your guide from now on, while also keeping my duties as your bodyguard.
I’ve gotten all giddy for a buncha reasons, but you’ll learn more and more as we go through Dazzling Las Vegas.
First though, how about I give you some details on the first casino we should look for?

[That’d be awesome!] / [I think it's better to just go now. Let's to go the simplest casino!]

Option 1 Only
Miyamoto Iori:
I’m glad to be of help. Oh, since we’re all on the same level now, lemme go over the casinos.
The slots, roulettes, and card games are the main attractions. You need to use QP to get QP, so observation and luck are what lead to success or failure.
Each of the manager Swimsuit Swordmasters have a minute peculiarity to them…

Iori begins to give you a quick summary for the managers, starting with a picture of Summer Osakabehime.

Miyamoto Iori:
Taking on the current fad of [Last one standing survivor games] is the [HIMEJI] casino.
Assassin Nitocris.
Extremely high rollers only. The art museum-esque place where only celebs are allowed in, the royal [Pharaoh] casino.
Summer Meltlilith.
Admission tickets stopped sales half a year ago.The Dragon Palace inside the desert, the famous stage performances of No. 1!
Sweeping through America, is the Charisma ★ Figure Skater.
Mysterious Alter Ego Λ , who opened a stage in the [Suitengū] casino.¹
Summer Jeanne Archer
Just like from a movie! A showstage that surpasses even Hollywood VFX!
The [Water Sky Palace] casino also has a famous circus group that competes with its popularity, butting heads with dolphins, it’s the [Cirque du Requin] casino.
Swimsuit Lion King
Lastly, there’s the casino we just dealt with, where the strongest card dealer, the Lion King resides, [Camelot].
After dealing with the other Swimsuit Swordmasters, that casino will be our battlegrounds.

Branch merge/Option 2:

Miyamoto Iori:
Out of all those casinos, the easiest one would be…of course, her’s.
Ok, I’ll lead the way towards that one Swimsuit Swordmaster, the casino manager!
And that casino’s name is---
[HIMEJI Survival Casino]!

We begins to make our way there when Miyamoto stops us for a second.

Miyamoto Iori:
Oh yeah.
Each casino operates using a specific kind of currency...you'll need a certain amount of QP, so let's do our best to rack some up!

['Scuse. Me?]

Miyamoto Iori:
If you act like a bird of prey or a farming machine, then you can rack it up bit by bit. Ka-ting ka-ting ka-ting!
Siegfried:
A farming machine?
Katsushika Hokusai:
I’m not quite sure what you mean, but I’ll be usin’ my four blades! Let’s do it, Mastah!
Uooohhhhh!

She runs off.

Mash:
Ah, wait for us, Hokusai-san! Hokusai-san!

---------------------------------------------------------------------
1 - The Suitengū). While the other casinos are mostly written out in English, this one is kept in Japanese.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Next

[Review] Hiroshima Poker Club Amusement Poker Bar/Casino

Destination: Tulalip

We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.

Kurt Vonnegut

Tulalip Resort Casino is an Indian casino and resort in Quil Ceda Village, Washington, owned and operated by the Tulalip Tribes of Washington. It opened in 2004 as Tulalip Casino, and was renamed in late 2007 because of the new hotel, which opened August 15, 2008.[1] In addition to the AAA Four Diamond award-winning 12-story hotel with 370 rooms and suites, the resort includes 192,000 square feet (17,800 m2) of gaming space. The property has 7 restaurants: Tulalip Bay, Blackfish, Cedars Cafe, The Draft Bar and Grill, Journeys East, Eagles Buffet and Canoes Carvery. The T Spa is the resort's onsite spa and features 14,000 square feet (1,300 m2) of treatment rooms. There are also meeting facilities, and the Canoes Cabaret, Orca Ballroom, and Tulalip Amphitheatre for entertainment events.[1]
DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO A DOMESTIC FIGHT
I had just passed through Arlington when the Taco Time began to take hold. The meaty filling and breathtaking sauces had begun to plummet my belly's pH level to a low that now refused all immigrants to my stomach like a pack of Texans at a gun show in a Trump convention. Or something. I turned to my wife and told her we were going to need to stop.
This was a mistake.
She beamed at me and said "How about the Outlet Mall?"
I would like to say I didn't shit my pants. But I shit my pants. I needed to pull over and a thought occurred to me. Well, two thoughts: fireworks and the casino. Any able bodied Washingtonian should know that the Outlet Mall in Tulalip is a win situation. In fact, it's not a bad idea to tell your wife that "Hey, you deserve a treat - let's go to the Outlet Mall in Tulalip." And then drive her up there, stay for the Banana Republic and Starbucks and then "Hey, hon, I might have more fun if I went over to the casino." And then drink until she has to drive and gamble until she has to take all the clothing she bought at the mall back.
So, it was off to the Outlet Mall. Luckily, they sold underwear.
THERE IS NO OUTLET AT THE OUTLETS
Nothing in life is free. And nothing in life is easy. So, I did have to purchase new underwear and I had a little more trouble than I imagined getting out of the Outlet Mall.
The mall seems extremely escapable as it's outside. However, you must be quick with your "Ho-hum, I'll just go to the Casino" story. You must say it nonchalant and give your partner a look that says "I can take it or leave it". Unfortunately for me, she replied "Maybe next time."
I forgot that our chance adventure at the Outlet Mall was a product of me shitting my pants and not a gift on a Saturday of spousal Outlet shopping.
"Look" I said. "I need to sit down and rest. We just spent the last five hours driving from Canada down here and Taco Time made me shit my pants AND I had to go into Banana Republic. I need to chill. This is important to me." Telling a loved one something is important to you is very important. You must use it wisely.
She gave me a look that said that she wouldn't forget it, but I got clearance to leave. I nodded her adieu and made my way through the Outletters.
There is a sick notion in the American mind that goods and services can be had on the cheap by venturing into an Outlet Mall. Nothing can be further from the truth. In fact, the new underwear I was wearing had already begun to split at the seams. There is a reason the Outlets are far away from civilization - it impedes returns.
Teams of tourists surrounded me, looking for bargains, when all I wanted to do was get away from them. The cheap kitchenware and taffy were not the drugs I needed at this time. I needed fireworks, beer, and that feeling that only comes when you pull cash out of a credit card to get your bank account back from the greedy wheel at the roulette table.
"Back, you!" I shouted at the Scientologist that is a permanent fixture at the Outlet Mall.
"But it's just a personality test!" She screamed after me.
"I take that personal!" I screamed back.
Into a Japanese tourist I slammed and spilled their belongings of muffin pans, omelet makers, and fudge named after some damn mountain in Montana that no one knows about or wants to.
Security was on me and took a hold of my collar and shook me like a bag of gold. "Out of here, you joker!" the guard yelled.
"Thank you." I whispered as he shoved me out into the parking lot and on my way to the firework stand.
TWO NATIONS MEET
There's nothing like a firework stand. Well, nothing like a good one: the kind that will sell you enough explosives to get sanctions slapped on you. Tulalip was one.
Much like sister city Auburn, Tulalip did not disappoint in the firework department. They had razzlers, tazzlers, jizzles and phazims. They had rollies, tollies, gollies, and bazims. I made all those words up, but the point is that you simply point at the biggest cannon you see at the stand and say "I'll take that."
Some of the fireworks are themed. There's a Terminator themed pack full of cannons and mortars. There's a Star Wars themed pack of cannons and mortars. There's even a Celebrity Chef pack that has...cannons and mortars.
Because of my hurry and my need to return to my loving wife within the two hours it would take her to figure out nothing fits, I went for the bone: the stuff they pretend they won't sell you unless you act like something illegal is going on.
I approached the fireworks dealer. "Sir - I would like - come closer."
"Yes?" The man asked.
"I hear your firework stand is the best." I cozied up to the register and began toying with a pack of Saturn Missiles seductively.
"Big Tits and Ass Fireworks is the best. My grandfather built Big Tits and Ass Fireworks with his bare hands! Tulalip Nation!" The man screamed and the other firework dealers screamed back.
"Yes, that's all well and good. It is a fine establishment. But tell me this...."
"Yesssss?' He asked, winking.
"Can I get..."
"Yessss?"
"A tennis ball full of....."
"Gun powder?!"
My head shot up and I looked at him cross and said "Good lord, no! Cocaine! Cocaine, my good man! I want to buy cocaine from you!"
Again I was tossed out of an outlet. This time it was the fireworks kind. I had flown too close to the sun. I figured I'd get some sparklers. Then I figured a mortar. Then I figured an M80. Then I just went all in and asked for cocaine. I was severely off my game.
THE CASINO
I got back in the car and began cursing the Tulalip Nation in the only language I knew: English.
Sure, I took some sign language and Spanish, but I didn't remember most of it and wasn't going to Google it.
Not now. Not with the casino a half a mile away.
I parked the car and took out a cigarette from a pack I kept in the trunk for just such an occasion: shitting your pants, getting kicked out of an outlet mall, trying to buy cocaine, and then getting kicked out of a firework stand.
I called it Old Smokey.
Tulalip Casino is a majestic building that greets you with fountains and lights and all the majesty of realizing you are about to lose money you don't have to a video game themed on the premise of milking money out of a cow.
As you enter, the smoke comes on you like hot fudge on a sundae if hot fudge was smoke and you were a sundae. The atmosphere reminds you of a wedding some uncle had before he went to jail for a crime that the family will not acknowledge in public. From room to room you feel that rush of being a racial minority for the first time in your life, only to become just another white guy leering at a cocktail waitress behind aviator glasses in the next room - complicating this is the fact that you're Korean.
There's an aroma of food under the nicotine and perfume, but you can't quite make out what it might be. It could be spare ribs or it could be Pad Thai, but what it won't be is good. There is no good food made by human beings that can be carried from poker table to poker table in a plastic sack. Sure, there's the nice restaurant where you sit down and eat your food at a table instead of in your car crying as you try to figure out how you're going to tell your wife that you lost the life savings and all you got out of it was a free bag of sliders and fries...but you don't want to sit down and eat food like a human. You want to gamble.
Like most casinos, the Tulalip has a club you can join to lose money within a kind of fraternal order of losers. Sure, you'll get free money and smokes and food, but those things just keep you anchored to that casino. No, the real pros skip the club and lose on their own terms.
Like me. It was time to lose money the only way I knew: video slots. Video slots are like the slot machines of old, only they have little video games within them where you get entertained as you pay for three computers and a college education for a Tulalip Nation member's family. There are bonuses, free spins, and even quests where you lose money by way of slaying dragons or orcs or zombies.
I slid a hundred in and began navigating a gnome around a fairytale castle hoping to hit the jackpot that would possibly pay off my car, but certainly wouldn't make me a rich man. As I slid hundred after hundred in the machine, the damn gnome continued to get lost in the flower city of Zambel. I shouted at the gnome "JESUS, WILL YOU PICK THE CORRECT DOOR - THIS IS COSTING ME MONEY!" But the gnome failed to pick the right door and I was out 800 dollars.
I went to the bar.
THE CASINO AND BEYOND
"At least I can get drunk now." I was left to my own shame in a bar in the casino, nursing a beer and trying to imagine how to rob the Wal Mart next door and actually make any money.
I had another half hour before I would have to meet my wife and explain how we couldn't have kids now.
"You seem down on your luck." The bartender looked at me from behind a mask of years of inbreeding. His eyes were fused and his cycloptic movements made me cringe as he pushed a matchbook across the table to me. "Meet this man at the city limits."
"You mean the Exit door?"
"Yes."
I couldn't possibly see how this man (T.C. said the matchbook) or any other man could help me out in the predicament the Native Americans had put me in. Oh, who was I kidding, it was my fault!
And the Native Americans. And my wife's. If she wouldn't have shit her pants on the way home - but I must not blame, I thought.
"Hear you need a job, kid." It was Tom Cruise.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"I own this place."
"Really?"
"Hell no. I had to take a piss on the way home from Canada. You lose some money?"
"It's true, Mr. Cruise! I am guilty of gambling! But the Native Americans made me do it. It was some ancient curse, some demon that -"
"Speaking of ancient curses - have you heard about Xenu?"
"No."
"Good. Now, I hear you need some money."
"YES! I DO! Did the cyclops tell you?"
"The...no, that's John Travolta."
"He's a bartender?"
"No. He's a drunk. Look, you want to make some money or not?"
"I don't have to...?" I made a gesture with the hotdog I always keep in my pocket for just such instances.
"Let me just show you."
THE NEXT DAY
"Free personality test!" I yelled at the Japanese tourist.

Finished Shin Megami Tensei II last night!

Holy hell, it's been a while since I've done a post where I haphazardly ramble about my thoughts on a megaten game. But I finally finished SMT II last night, and I've got a lot to talk about.
SO first off, lemme start by saying I went in with mixed expectations. I had heard some praise it as the best mainline story, and what spoilers I had been exposed to over the years led me to believe it would be a very bizarre game. And honestly, it lived up to both of those things. Anyhow, going forth are plenty spoilers of course.

GAMEPLAY

So, more or less the same as SMT1 but thankfully, the UI is miles better. When I emulated SMT1, I couldn't get the automap patch to work because I'm computer illiterate, so I went without. So it was a blessing in this game. Especially since the dungeon design is generally more elaborate this time around.
Speaking of which, navigation in general is a mixed bag. On one hand, the game dungeons easily surpass SMT1's, and I love the way the overworld map is layed out. But Jesus, people weren't kidding when they said this game had a lot of backtracking. No really, I thought people must be exaggerating. There's also just a lot of bullshit stuff like hidden tree passages (which I actually found immediately but I still think it's a lame idea), or HOW THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW YOU COULD WALK THROUGH THE FENCE WHAT THE HELL--you get the idea. I generally found it to be more obtuse than SMT1 in this sense.
Combat is the same, which is to be expected. Charm bullets, Zio spells, buffs for bosses, and an occasional Mahanma for trickier situations. Though I would note that this game actually had some cool bosses. Particularly the Archangel rush and their fake YHVH, Lucifer, and the real yellow man himself. And even though the Shinrou were easy as hell, I liked the idea of fighting twelve bosses in quick succession.
One thing I liked is that the sidequests, though few, felt a bit more integrated into the world and story. And were generally badass. And as a side note, I save scummed the shit out of casinos to get the best equipment. And I did the Russian Roulette a couple times.

MUSIC

Honestly, this has got to be the weakest mainline soundtrack for me. Don't get me wrong, there's some stuff to be liked, but I think SMT1's was better. Felt like a lot of tracks in the game were endless loops of the same couple riffs, and after a while it would drive me insane.
My favorite tracks would be all three alignment themes, the Abyss overworld, the Abyss town/dungeon song, the Siren's Factory overworld song, the Jakyou, and the special boss theme.
And the end credits song really hit me hard. I think it's a mashup of the gameover song, and sorta the title screen, with its own melody. And it's really good. It's discomforting in the best way possible. I think it helped that it was preceded by the equally eerie Law theme.

STORY/WORLD

The Tokyo Millennium is easily the coolest mainline setting, and honestly one of the coolest settings I've ever seen in the game. It's so slummy and full of depravity, but also so charming and mysterious. I love the way it's structured with the four districts branching off from the center.
Even cooler for me was finding out about the Underworld beneath the Millennium. I love that runaway fairies made their own little shoddy kingdom out of Shinjuku. And the mutant community in Roppongi seriously depressed me. I like how the Gaians generally reside here, and the Japanese gods are associated with the area since it's the remains of Tokyo. Maybe I'm just stupid, but I almost thought they wanted to convince you that the "Underworld" was gonna be the abyss, until it was revealed to be a literal Underworld, the Abyss being its own thing.
Speaking of the Abyss, that's the coolest fucking area ever. I'd love it if SMTV took us to the Abyss again. It's surprisingly quirky; for example I find it fuckin hilarious that the Skeleton weapon dealers decorate their shops with a bunch of swords and say "sharp…" when you walk in…but they only fuckin sell guns. Or fuckin Crowley and his whole "I'M SO FREAKING HORNY!"
The story is so strange and haunting. As I said earlier, I was spoiled on some things. But the actual context surrounding the shit I knew was mind blowing to me. Like I knew Beth dies…but at the hands of Daleth? Sacrificing herself for you?? That early??? I knew Zayin was Satan…but him fusing with Set? And taking on Lucifer and his own God? Hell, I didn't even know he'd rebel against the center.
Here's the biggie: I knew Aleph was created. I heard Hiroko was his mom? But I wasn't sure how any of that worked. Then BOOM, they fucking give a full explanation and it turns out the whole goddamn main cast was created aside from Hiroko. And the process behind it all was so fucked. It's insane knowing that nearly everything they did was only because they were designed to do so…aside from Zayin to an extent, but he was a variable I suppose. And it endeared them to me more to be honest, especially Hiroko.
The only thing I'm a little annoyed about knowing beforehand was that Abbadon swallows Valhalla. One dude just didn't tag it, so it's not my fault on that one.
I love the way the game opens up with you being named Hawk. Then you don't name him until you fight Red Bear; I kinda wish the Internet called him Hawk more often so people wouldn't anticipate that. But anyhow, I really like that after you're champion and declared the Savior, it basically becomes a series of seemingly random Herculean tasks, but each of these sets the ground work for so many mysteries.
Then once Abbadon happens, the story does a quick 180 into a rebellion. And things really start building up. Then it's straight into the underworld, and slowly preparing up to the point where you can finally take on the center bishops. I love that so much, it feels like great payoff.
So that shits taken care of and you get to start checking out the Abyss and shit, and it isn't even until this point that the alignment struggle shifts into limelight. Suddenly the story gets super high stakes and it's just seriously great.
My fav moments of the game are:

first fight with Daleth
Discovering the underworld
Zayin hijacking the screens and declaring his rebellion
Moloch's tail appearing
Fucking killing Abbadon from the inside out
Meeting Mara
Archangel Boss Rush
Mekata's revelations
FULL MOON RAVE, LET'S DANCIN!

CHARACTERS/ALIGNMENTS

I'll just do a run down of my thoughts on each character.
Hiroko: She's honestly tragic in a way. She's been brainwashed to do a job in the name of religion, and she cooperates with the savior only to find out he's her son (sorta), and damn that's gotta hurt to be hidden from that. I also love the line where if you go to where her parents are talking about her, she seems really upset by what they say.
Zayin: This bad boy is awesome. He's just a nice dude with strong convictions, and he slowly becomes more and more hardcore about his methods as the game goes on. The Satan reveal was cool because he wasn't like "whaaa? I'm Satan!?" He was like "I know what I've gotta do now" and honestly it's just really cool. It made me sad to see him crumble away at the end.
Beth: Not a lot to say about her, but she's cool. It's kinda hilarious that she's designed to be Aleph's eternal partner but she gets killed off so soon. I like her design a lot too.
Daleth: BEST BOY, I'm so glad they had a goofy rival character. The Infidellily stuff made me actually laugh, and his encounters before that remind me of the one little guy that always challenges you in Paper Mario. I also like how his design is intended to invoke the SMT1 hero.
Gimmel: Lord Gimmel is one son of a bitch but I love him. I love how he's so friendly and all, and even when you confront him about his dirty shit he doesnt seem terribly rude. He just has to do it. The sidequest where you defeat him was seriously awesome, probably one of my favorite parts of the game.
Mekata, Okamoto, Madam, Hanoun and all were cool too. I think Hanoun should be a special fusion in SMTV, with a unique charm spell in reference to the Infidelilly sap.
Anyway, alignments. The game being themed around Law was really interesting to me. Even more interesting was the lack of traditional Law Hero/Chaos hero. I think the game really benefits from this. Zayin is the closest thing to an alignment rep the game has.
There weren't a lot of memorable alignment decisions, but what few there were there I enjoyed a lot. I liked how you could choose to go and free the factory laborers. But it kinda fucked with my emotions when the former champion refused to leave his cell. The best alignment decision to me was easily the choice of taking over or destroying Arcadia. Becoming the Lord of Arcadia is awesome and I love the dialogue changes when you do it.
The most unique thing about alignments in this game is that, as I said earlier, the main conventional alignment struggle doesn't really become prominent until endgame. Up until that point, it's really just about deconstructing the world's current state of Dark Law. But when shit hits the fan and it's Satan versus Lucifer, it's amazing.
I went Law and I'm glad I did. The ending was such a mindfuck. The Ark blasting off literally made my jaw drop for the rest of the sequence. Then Satan turns to you and reveals the Megiddo arc and man, that was the point where I was just like "this is so fucked." The camera slowly turning toward Earth really topped it off.
And I had no idea YHVH would be literally right after that. I thought I'd have time to prepare after defeating Lucifer. But nope, straight into battle with the big guy. I tensed up for sure, but I'm not sure why since I had a feeling it would be easy (y'know, it being an SNES SMT and all). But still, the whole context of the fight was just mind blowing. All these years and I had no idea you fight YHVH in space. I mean you do in IVA, but let's not talk Apocalypse.
Amazing ending and possibly my favorite in the series. I absolutely love how once it's over, it's a backwards reel of all the game's major events…then it shows the creation of you and the others, then finally, Hiroko in an office. Perfect place to take you into the end credits.

RANDOM BULLSHIT

From this point, I've got some random thoughts, and also some questions.
Okay, first of all, with the Underworld. I really loved this part of the game. But it kinda made me realize IV isn't as original as I thought it was. I always hear people saying IV took too much from 1/2 but I thought the similarities were superfluous. But the Underworld of SMT II woke me up to how much IV really does take. It's almost kinda disheartening, y'know? I still really enjoy IV's story but knowing this might have knocked it down in my mind a bit.
I only found one fiend in the game, and that was Ghost Q. I wish I found the others but there's no list of locations online unfortunately. One thing I'm still kicking myself for is that I actually got the encounter message in the Factory, but I declined it thinking it would be a regular boss. Then the darkness of the area made me lose track of where the spot was. I'm so dumb.
A remake of this game would probably make it my number 1 mainline. As of now, III is still my fav, but I'd probably feel comfortable tying II with it since the story is just that good. But if they did remake the game, I have an idea: So Sega owns both Yakuza and SMT. So what if they added Yakuza's disco minigame to II? You could do it as a side thing at any disco in the game, but you'd have to get a perfect ranking at the contest scene to get the Moon Pillar. This would eliminate the 10 MAG business, and it would be fun as hell, not to mention funny.
Also, cool glitch I got. In a Kether castle, I got in a battle with Nyarlathotep and two Hecatoncheir. I charmed the two Hecatoncheir, and Nyarly threw up a Tetrakarn. Then when the Hecatoncheir started attacking Nyarly, it would reflect but something wild happened. It said "Empousa took 544 damage" or whatever fuckin number, but empousa is a low level ass demon that was nowhere in site. But this is the interesting part: everytime that happened, Aleph's HP would jump by thousands. So when I went to fight Lucifer, I had 9118 HP. Similar to the trap floor glitches in SMT1, this wore off when I leveled up.
And now I've got some questions:

Who's the golden girl flying through the credits? And is she the same woman in front of the temple at the end of the credits? If not, who the hell is that?
So in the Law world, do they plan on brainwashing? The game treats brainwashing as a bad thing so I'd think not, but that would be the easiest way to prevent knowledge, and the Arcadia equipment is probably still around on Millennium.
Also in the law ending, do they plan on repopulating earth with just the people on the arc? How many people could they fit on there?
Does the Sealed Cave sidequest have any significant world building and story like the Arcadia sidequest? I didn't do it.
I heard recently that the Aeon Genesis translation alters the chaos ending quite a bit. Can anyone explain what's different?

TL;DR good game, and now I've finally played every numbered mainline!

[PI] Snake Eyes - Superstition - 3152 Words

Working at a casino was not exactly #lifegoals.
But it was better, I reflected, as I glanced down at my scratchy pink poodle skirt and ankle-grinding roller skates, than being a waitress at a Fifties theme restaurant.
Anything is better than working at a theme restaurant. Believe me. If you hear ‘Fifties restaurant’ and start dreaming of Uma Thurman and John Travolta dancing with wild abandon, stop it. Tarantino lied to you. It’s just screaming children and drunk tourists, all the way down.
Which was why, when my Friday morning shift in that hell finally ended, I shrugged back into street clothes and left for my interview at the Grand Imperial Casino with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. I’d hoped that by my twenty-fourth year of life, I’d be interviewing for something a bit more ambitious than blackjack dealer at the newest addition to the Las Vegas strip, but at this point I’d take what I got.
The bus ride downtown was boring, so I’ll break here to introduce myself: my name is Mika. Well, technically, my name is Miguelita Hortensia Maria Francisca de Toledo Rosario Vasquez. But that’s too long even by Mexican standards, so go ahead and call me Mika Rosario, because that’s going to save us both a bunch of time.
Yeah, you think YOU hate going to the DMV.
Anyway, today was going to be my day. I’d traded shifts with one of the other girls who owed me a favor and put up with the desperately sad crowd that wanted to eat breakfast surrounded by bored actors dressed up like extras from Grease, because this afternoon was important. This afternoon was my ticket out of the world of waitressing, even if that ticket only took me a few blocks down the road. No more poodle skirts, no more roller skates, no more children competing to see who can snort a milkshake through their nose, no more teenage boys leering at my cleavage until their eyes fell out.
I mean, I was applying to work at a casino, so I was pretty much just trading those teenage stares in for a whole new set, courtesy of a horde of middle-aged middle-managers in from the Midwest for a convention on midsize sedans, but at least it was a change. My boobs were looking forward to the variety.
So, there I was, sitting in a massive ballroom at the Grand Imperial with about four hundred other people, waiting for my name to be called. It was a nice ballroom, if nothing else, with real white linens on the tables and carpet that didn’t look like they stole the design from a Dixie cup in 1997. It ought to be nice, though, since the newspapers claimed that this place had cost over a billion dollars just to build, never mind the cost of buying out land on the Strip.
All the more reason to get my foot in the door here. If this Robbie Mo guy that came in from Macau to set up the Grand Imperial had that kind of money to throw around, then there had to be a way for me to work my way up through the ranks to where I’d get some real cash.
And no more roller skates.
“Me-gall-nita… Rose-mario?”
The call came at last and I sprang up, smiling as broadly as I knew how and ignoring the way the guy with the list butchered my name. They could call me Mud, for all I cared, so long as they got me away from Big Donny’s Roller-Diner.
The first few rounds of the mass interview were easy, to be honest. Out of all those hundreds of people massed in the ballroom, the Grand Imperial people eliminated three hundred with a simple test as to whether or not they even knew how to play blackjack, let alone deal professionally. Most of them, apparently, couldn’t even count to twenty-one.
I breezed through that round, and the two that came after it. I’d been slinging blackjack since I was eight, when my dad first set me down and made me help him practice counting cards. Carlos Rosario was a ‘professional’ gambler. Professional, in the sense that it was the only plan he ever had to make money and support his family, and ‘professional’ in the sense that he lost more than anybody I’ve ever seen, no matter how he tried to cheat.
Anyway, dealing was easy. I threw in a few flippy bits, flicking aces from one knuckle to the other before returning them to the shuffle, and dancing the spread back and forth before snapping cards out to my nonexistent players. It was simple stuff that any idiot could learn on YouTube, but the interviewers ate it up, whispering to each other like sixth-grade girls.
It was round four when everything got weird.
My first clue that I’d merged onto the highway to the crazy zone was when a man in a black suit asked me to follow him. He was tall and blond, super hot in a ‘my sense of humor was surgically replaced with a third fist’ kind of way, and he escorted me into an elevator made of mirrors without ever saying more than three words at a time. All the previous rounds of the interview had been held in partitioned temporary rooms on one side of that huge ballroom, but apparently those of us who made it to the final round got to see a nicer bit of the Grand Imperial.
That was what I thought on the elevator ride, anyway. I had no idea exactly how nice the bit I’d be seeing was until I stepped off on the 50th floor and felt my jaw drop so far that it should’ve hit the floor.
Gold. Enough gold to make the Pope blush, enough gold to buy out the king of Spain, enough gold to...I don’t even know. There was nothing I could think of buying, nothing that I could even IMAGINE, that required that much money.
It was a lot of freaking gold.
Hot Security Guy frog-marched me through Versailles 2.0 like we were walking down a blank concrete hallway instead of something out of Liberace’s nightmares, before plopping me down opposite the final interviewer.
He was Asian, probably Chinese or Japanese extraction, middle-aged and friendly-looking, like his face naturally wanted to smile. Bit of gray at his temples, bit of extra padding at the belly, but it all seemed to suit him, like he’d been destined to be that way since he was born. Somebody’s kindly grandpa, except he wasn’t old enough yet.
He didn’t say much as I ran through my dealing routine, which didn’t exactly make me happy. A bead of sweat ran down the back of my neck the moment I picked up the deck set on the desk between us, a bead that turned into a river, that turned into Niagara Falls by the time I was done. I pulled out a few extra tricks at the end, flashy little flips that I wouldn’t usually dare try with anybody watching, even palmed a joker into the deck and spun it out face-up, but it was like trying to get blood from a stone. Friendly Grandpa’s smile never so much as twitched, for good or bad.
Finally, I couldn’t take it.
“Look, that’s what I’ve got,” I vented, cascading the deck back together and slapping it down on the desk. “If you’re looking for more...frankly, I don’t know who the hell you’re looking for. Four rounds of interviews, for a job dealing blackjack? That’s just stupid.”
Uh oh.
There it went, then. My chance to bust out of the land of pink poodle skirts and greaser jackets. Great job, Mika; all you had to do was keep your mouth shut and flip the cards, but you had to let your temper get the best of you.
Then the interviewer finally spoke.
“Do you know who I am, Miss Rosario?”
I gulped.
“My new boss?” I suggested lamely, mustering up my best plucky smile.
“My name is Mo Ka-Fai,” he informed me, as I felt my blood turn to ice. “Most people around here call me Robbie.”
Robbie...Mo...
Robbie Mo.
ROBBIE FREAKING MO.
AKA the guy who owned the casino I was sitting in, plus half of the Mirage and who knew how many more in Macau. The news hadn’t stopped talking about how stupid rich he was since they first broke ground on the Grand Imperial.
“Oh,” I squeaked. So I hadn’t just mouthed off at my interviewer and tanked my chances of getting the dealer job, I’d insulted a man who could literally blackball me from the entire city of Las Vegas if he felt like it.
That was bad.
“Sorry.”
“I didn’t tell you that to spook you, Miss Rosario,” Mo announced, a sentiment that did nothing to unfreeze my spine or untwist my stomach. “That wasn’t the point. The point was to let you know that you are dealing with the person who makes decisions. A serious person. Somebody who is not in the business of making jokes or playing pranks. Is that clear to you?”
I nodded like a bobblehead doll. He wasn’t telling me to leave, at least. That had to mean I was still in the running for the job...right?
“Good,” he continued. “Jason, bring in the kittens.”
He gestured over my shoulder towards Hot Security Guy, as I felt my brow knit in confusion. Had he just said...kittens?
What?
Lo and behold, the kittens were...actual cats. HSG disappeared behind a side door, only to reappear a moment later with a cardboard box full of mewing little fluffballs in at least a dozen colors, two or three tiny heads peeking above the lip to see what was happening. The box was deposited at my feet, whereupon two dozen curious eyes blinked up at me.
“Um,” I managed, my eyebrows raised so far I felt like they were going to get lost in my hair. “What?”
“Close your eyes and pick a kitten, please,” Mo requested.
I just stared at him.
“I am aware that it sounds absurd, Miss Rosario. But this will all make sense in a moment, if things are as I suspect.”
I stared at him for another long moment, then shrugged. I liked cats just fine, and he still seemed to be considering me for the job, so...why not?
Eyes closed tight, I leaned down and worked my hands into the pile of kittens. A few nips and playful scratches later, I managed to snag one of the fluffy little things and lift it up away from its siblings.
I opened my eyes to see a pure black fuzzball sitting in my palms, staring at me with eyes as gold as the extravagant walls. He blinked a few times, looking around to see where the rest of his family had gone, then curled up with his tail over his eyes.
Mo breathed in sharply, and whispered something in a language I didn’t know, eyes widening.
“Black,” murmured Hot Security Guy. “It’s black.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I replied, exploring new depths of confusion. “Here, you want to hold him?”
HSG backed away like I’d offered to shoot him in the kneecap.
“N-no!” he yelped, then cleared his throat. “I mean, no thank you, Miss Rosario. Please continue the interview.”
“The straws,” hissed Mo, as I turned back to him. “Bring the straws!”
Jumping like he was scalded, HSG disappeared back into the side room and came back with a large, blue porcelain vase bristling with...were those drinking straws?
They were. Long red plastic straws, like the ones that you got at the movie theater Slushee machine, with a little spoon on the end so you could scoop up the ice bits. There were tons of them packed into the vase, so tight they barely even rustled as Hot Security Guy placed it next to the kittens.
“There are one thousand straws in that vase,” Mo told me, as if that weren’t an utterly bizarre thing to say. “Each one has a number printed on the end, one to one thousand. Do you understand?”
I nodded again, scratching the black kitten’s head absently. I was this far into what was comfortably the strangest job interview of my entire life, no point arguing over a vase full of straws.
“Good. Choose one, and read me the number, please.”
Dutifully, I shifted my new fuzzy friend into my left hand while I reached down with my right and wormed a nail into the forest of straws. It had to be some kind of eccentric rich guy thing, testing people with kittens and straws before he hired them, I decided.
“Thirteen,” I recited, reading off the tiny black number punched into the end of my straw.
Hot Security Guy literally backpedalled away from me, while Mo looked like he’d seen a ghost.
“Thirteen?” he breathed. “Are you certain? Out of one thousand straws, you picked thirteen?”
“Yep,” I confirmed, laying the straw on the table for him. “One-three. That makes thirteen to me.”
The kitten in my hand started to stretch and mew, pawing for the top of the desk and obviously yearning to explore. I lifted him up and let him clamber out of my palm, since Mo seemed more interested in staring at the little number on the straw than actually interviewing me.
The one percent is freaking weird.
“Right, Miss Rosario,” Mo finally breathed, shaking himself away from inspecting the straw and seeming to collect himself. “Right. Yes. Thank you for bearing with us. I have one more test for you.”
This time, instead of sending Hot Security Guy to fetch, he reached into the drawer of his desk and produced an finely carved set of ivory dice in a plush black velvet box.
“Roll them, please.”
I didn’t move.
“I’d rather not,” I hedged. “I deal cards. I don’t gamble.”
That was my rule. Ever since I was eleven, ever since I’d watched my father walk out of the house with all the money we’d saved for my mom’s chemo and come back with empty hands, that had been the rule.
I don’t gamble. Ever.
“I am not asking you to gamble, Miss Rosario,” Mo countered. “There is no money on the table. Just the dice. Roll them, please.”
My jaw locked up and my fingernails bit into my palm, but I forced myself to reach for the dice. There was no way I was going to avoid ever touching a set, if I intended to work in a casino. And Mo was technically right; I wasn’t betting on anything and there was no money at stake, so it wouldn’t be gambling.
Just a roll of the dice.
Breath caught in my throat, I picked up the dice, shook them once, and then dropped them like a poisonous snake.
A brief clatter, and then they came to rest, one pip glinting from each face.
One and one.
Snake eyes.
“Two,” breathed HSG. “She rolled a two. She actually rolled a-!”
“Quiet, Jason,” Mo snapped. “Again, if you please, Miss Rosario.”
He collected the dice and passed them back across the desk to me. The corner of my lip twisted in distaste, but I nevertheless accepted them, shook, and cast.
Two pips stared back at me. Snake eyes, just like before.
“Again.”
Take, shake, roll.
Two pips. Snake eyes.
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” I demanded. “First you make me go bobbing for kittens and pick out a Slushee straw, and now you’re making me roll a loaded pair of dice? Does this have anything to do with me dealing blackjack?”
“The dice are not loaded,” Mo stated, grandfatherly smile all but gone, now. “Inspect them yourself. And then roll, again.”
I retrieved the dice and rolled them through my fingers, weighing them against each other, and then froze. An electric tingle ran up my spine and down to my fingers, as I realized that Mo was on the level. I knew what trick dice felt like in my hand; my dad had made me test out the sets he carved in our garage.
These were legit.
Which meant…
I rolled the dice, flinging them hard against the table. One spun like a top, fluttering about before finally tipping over with one pip to the sky. The other skated across the desk, nearly colliding with the adventuring kitten, and flew off onto the floor.
Where it landed with one pip showing.
Snake eyes.
“Again.”
Beginning to feel extremely freaked out, I did as Mo asked, taking a new pair of dice from him and casting them across the desk.
Two pips. Snake eyes.
“Again.”
My hand shook all on its own this time, barely steady enough to hold both dice together. They toppled away from me, less a cast, and more a drop.
It didn’t matter. Twp pips glinted in the light, reflecting the golden ornamentation.
Snake eyes.
“Again.”
Again, and again, and again. Over and over, Mo made me roll the dice, and every time the result was the same: two pips. Twenty times in a row, I rolled snake eyes.
Which was, mathematically speaking, almost impossible.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked again, but this time I really, truly meant it. My voice was barely a squeak, choked by an iron bar lodged in my throat. “What does this mean?”
“It means, Miss Rosario, that you are the unluckiest person alive.”
I blinked. Even in the grip of an utter and complete confusion, I had enough of my mother’s pride left in me to be insulted.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, I mean that very literally,” Mo said, standing up from his desk and sharply correcting his suit jacket. “You, Miguelita Hortensia Maria Francisca de Toledo Rosario Vasquez, are the most unlucky human being on the planet. And that makes you extremely dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” I spluttered. “What do you mean, dangerous? How am I-?”
“We do not have time for me to answer that question,” Mo interrupted, gesturing for her to stand. “Suffice it to say that there are those of us who play probability and odds like a musician plays his instrument. And we’ve been looking for you, Miss Rosario. Looking for you for quite some time.”
I opened my mouth to demand more than that, or maybe to just sputter in wild confusion, but Mo steamrolled over me.
“Jason, call ahead to the helipad and tell them to spin up the chopper,” he ordered tersely, glancing to Hot Security Guy. “I want to be wheels up in fifteen minutes. We need to go, now.”
“Go?!” I snapped, finally untangling my tongue. “Go where?”
“To meet with Lady Luck.”

[SF]You are the only child of a dictator in a dystopian future. Secretly, you intend to reform society and bring an end to your family's rule upon taking power. Unfortunately, you are kidnapped by rebels before you can put any of this into action - and needless to say, the rebels don't like you.

It had been about thirty-three years since a nuclear conflict between the Soviet Union and the United States of America had almost brought an end to modern civilization. In a period of three days, both the Soviet Union and the United States had decimated both of their armies and agreed to a hasty diplomatic truce. Historians now call it the first global revolution, because it revolutionized the way global society functioned and the hardships it sparked spurred forth a period of massive technological innovation and political change. To compensate for the damage that was done to the global economy, large incentive existed for both mega-corporations and national governments to create new means to provide for a massive lower-class that had been created by the conflict. Unfortunately, this period of change came with the growth of totalitarian and corrupt governments globally. Facing swaths of displaced and restive refugee's, the armies of many countries became desperate and sought to create dictatorships to maintain a fledgling sense of national identity. With resources scarce and money consolidated within the hands of a few, there was little incentive for public officials to keep their promises and they stole from the public left and right.
I was born about four years before this conflict began, in 1985, and have no memories of this period. I've been told that my country was just as poor then as it is now, but that we are no longer weak and exploited. In school, we learned that some suppressed revolt in Eastern Germany led to the outbreak of conventional conflict in Europe which led to the 'revolution' in a matter of three weeks. My country and many others were left largely unscathed by the conflict, but still suffered the consequences of it. In my brain lies years of ingrained propaganda that filled every school and television station that I ever saw, but I know that my country is really no different from any other. I've witnessed everything I can about the true state of affairs of the world first hand, and can't help but feel pessimistic towards everything. All those promising ideologies that I was raised under, which fluctuated quite rapidly through a few years of political revolutions, were broken the minute I found myself at the top. And what weighs down on me even more is the fact that, while I am technically in the highest position of power, I have never before had to heed to the directives of others more than I do now. Everywhere I turn, someone or something is trying to infiltrate my mind, and gain influence over my own vision and what I seek to do to uplift my people from the ashes of what we call a 'country.' They only want to protect their own interests, which is understandable, but it obstructs the path towards accomplishing what needs to be done. As dramatic as it may sound, I can truly not trust anyone - sometimes not even my own rationale.
I was raised in a slum. I suffer from terrible eyesight and my left leg is longer than the other, deformities I incurred over years of malnutrition. My father died in a factory accident when I was only six years old, and my mother was killed by a stray bullet that missed a hated community drug dealer who had accidentally caused a wave of overdoses when he put too much fentanyl in a heroin patch. I know the story because many of my peers I grew up around faced the consequences of that decision, and I could rest at night knowing that he had still been killed anyways. As an orphan, I was sent to a government-owned boarding school deep in the inner-city. I learned quickly that I would not get anywhere without fighting for myself, which enabled me to get far even with my physical disabilities. Eventually, once I began my political career, this drew admiration from the country as my limp gave the obvious appearance of someone fighting against their disabilities. I study hard in school, and used the faculties provided to me to make me a sharp and concise writer. I knew that I would need to be able to intelligently spell out my ideas if I wanted to get out of that mess, so I put all of my energy towards that. When I had to work hard to just survive, I didn't have any time to be preoccupied with insecurities, which allowed me to maintain a strong sense of optimism. A mentality that I must work to maintain even now, in my finest hour. So, what the people saw was a smiling man with a terrible gait and a limp, which was both endearing and encouraging. I don't think I would have won the election without this.
The 'Socialist Republic of Mexico' was founded in 1994 when the military intervened in a constitutional crisis and reformed the constitution. This preceded a period of massive economic growth, as the world began to rebuild and demanded oil and cheap manufacturing to accomplish this. Mexico could easily provide this, because only two or three missiles had actually landed on the country, allowing it to become one of the most economically strongest nations in the world. To the north America had collapsed into some ideologically vague military dictatorship as soon as the war had finished. It was now closed off to the world, allowing no one to enter or leave, except the Americans that were able to escape in the short period of chaos after the war.
I was born in Mexico City, and remained their for the rest of my life. I witnessed first hand what an economic boom can do. But this made the country even more corrupt, and the inequality became even more apparent. The rich constructed a large financial district, living in large glimmering towers in the center of the city, while the poor remained concentrated in dense slums forming a ring around the city. They were stuck working factory jobs with little protection and many risks, and in everyone of their faces you can see that they hate every minute of it. Most of Western and Eastern Europe had utterly collapsed, and all that was left was a disorganized wasteland. Maps don't depict countries their anymore, just vague lines of control and empty radioactive plains where people don't live anymore. The Soviet Union still exists, but the Communist Party devolved into a fascist political party. All that remains is Soviet symbolism. East Asia was precarious case, because it sustained its own wars and conflicts that grew out of the nuclear war. The Japanese government slowly collapsed, before falling into a military dictatorship. A massive war broke out on the Korean peninsula that left millions dead, and the People's Republic of China faced a political revolution which dismantled the Communist government and eventually led to the secession of Tibet. These countries are large customers of my countries resources, so I dealt with them on nearly a daily basis and had traveled to all of them. Without foreign aid, many countries in Africa faced waves of famines. But this came to their benefit, because out of the death and desperation that gripped their lands grew the opportunity to regrow their countries in the correct way. Many of them are emerging to become quite successful now, albeit under undemocratic dictatorships, and are able to protect themselves in the face of foreign powers who seek to exploit them like they used too. India was the only country that remained truly democratic, and it was able to come out of the global conflict with most of its cities intact. But this was a consequence of a Pakistani military leaders split-second moral decision to not respond to the nuclear attack, who thought that all of civilization would be lost if he retaliated. I remember learning that this country was very religious, and maybe this embedded a moral compass in the mind of this general. I can't help but think we need more of that now. India still suffered in a tangential way. They had murdered their neighbor, and cultural regret grips the entire nation now. The country is strong in every aspect except a lingering sense of pacifism growing out of guilt.
When I entered politics the military still had a strong grip on the government, but that period of unregulated and booming economic growth was coming to a close. People had become more politically organized and had formed trade factions, and new political parties which espoused ideologies that had never been seen before. I didn't bother adopting any ideology because I saw this as a waste of time. I ran independently and soon enough, I found myself between the collision of two political coalitions. Both sought power over the legislative, one coalition had many military officials in its ranks which sought to retain the decision-making power the military still maintained, while the other represented many trade bodies and regional governments which sought to deconstruct this state of affairs. Nearly every person in that chamber, situated deep underground in a bunker which was now normal protocol of nearly every government, was intelligent and sharp-minded. They realized that neither could win over the other, so they settled for compromise.
They elected me, the independent, to be speaker of the Chamber of Deputies. Political violence broke out when the President, who had been elected by the masses, began implementing policy to cordon off the military from influencing politics. The trade unions and political parties had the benefit of popular support, as the poorest were their constituencies, so they ultimately had the influence over the legislative branch. The only individuals who supported the military were those in the military itself and megacorporations which benefited from the policies they implemented. A squadron of elite soldiers had infiltrated his compound and brutally murdered both the President and the Vice-President, and many of the guards who were sworn to protect them. This left me in line to take the Office of President. I had gained the skills of speaking to crowds and navigating distorted webs of political influence through my political career. I knew I would be heading over a country that would be undergoing a period of political uncertainty, and I knew that this could give the people a reason to be unhappy and turn their back against the government. When this happened, it would be harder to maintain peace. So I had to ensure that belief in our system of government was maintained. I held Presidential elections eight months after I entered office. I was backed by many political parties who did not want to put forth their own candidate out of fear of having their leaders murdered, but I still had to face a military general who badly wanted the position of the executive and a candidate pushed forward by the trade unions. The generals of the military feared indictments for their crimes, and they knew that they could at least attain pardons if they had an ally in office. But no amount of money or guns could buy over the anger of the average impoverished voter. So I won by a wide margin. Emotions win politics, you must learn to play them correctly to fight.
I had high aspirations when I entered the office of President once again with the backing of the people. But this was all shattered by the brutal fist of reality. I wanted to reverse the growing inequality in Mexico, I wanted to avoid an enlarged political conflict and keep the country in a state of peace. We had an important position now that we could easily lose. We had grown to become the strongest country in our hemisphere, but we still had enemies to our North and South that vied for our position. If we began to become preoccupied with internal affairs, we would lose sight of what was important and fall from the grace of God. What challenged my vision the most was a group of provinces near the American border that had not benefited at all from Mexico's economic growth. America was closed off, no one was allowed to leave because otherwise a massive exodus would occur. Mexico's most northern provinces had many poor Americans that were stuck in limbo, speaking English and resenting the world around them. The governments of these provinces quickly created a gerrymandering system on their own accord out of fear that the Americans would seize control over the provincial governments and threaten the local native populations. This only put them in a more disadvantaged position, lengthening their suffering and cultivating their resentment. It was only a matter of time before they began organizing in a violent manner. Somewhere along the way, the political factions they had formed that could not find political representation anywhere made the decision to begin waging an insurgency. I strongly suspect that the American government, insecure of its weakened position, was providing weapons to these rebels to try and encourage a civil war within Mexico. The violence was becoming so intense that I had no choice but to order the military to stand down and agree to a ceasefire. Some of the generals immediately protested this, but others decided to follow my orders forcing others to capitulate.
I find it stunning that the state of affairs of this country could become so fragile so quickly. The minute people's sense of identity are involved in politics, the minute everybody becomes motivated by the emotion of anger. And this kills any chance of negotiating settlements. Out of their anger, they don't want to feel weak. The military reacted on its own accord by implementing marshal law in every province bordering America, and began hunting down the insurgents wherever they could. They began throwing every piece of military hardware at this insurgency, but could not seem to make any progress. The insurgents themselves were fractured among many factions who each had different ideologies and aspirations, but somehow were able to sustain themselves in the face of an entire military.
In another front, I faced resistance from Mexico's oil corporations. After growing to become the largest oil company in the world, PEMEX had been dissolved into four separate corporations after the Supreme Court deemed it to be a monopoly. One of these oil companies sought to consolidate another, but this was being blocked by the Supreme Court. A new judge was to be nominated soon, whose economic philosophy could change the direction of this case. These company executives wanted to win over my support. Likewise, the second largest industry in Mexico had become the steel and manufacturing industries. They had formed powerful lobbies that would stop to no avail to push forward policies that benefited them. This often meant the prevention of a creation of minimum wage, or regulations to protect workers safety. They were very self-centered, and never bothered to consider the needs of the people below them. Sometimes I wondered if they were so insulated in their shiny, sterile and clean towers that they didn't even know that poverty existed everywhere else. Other times, I just figured that they didn't have the capacity to feel empathy. I could never find a good explanation for it.
One night I was summoned to a meeting with a group of powerful investors, and these were the kinds of meetings that I could never ignore even if I wanted too. Although it wasn't stipulated in law that I had to meet with these people, a list of unwritten but understood rules existed that mandated that I must. The consequences for not following these rules were immense. These types of meetings were always behind closed doors, and never visible to the public. My diplomats and myself were transported in a heavily armed convoy, sitting behind layers of steel and armor with enough weapons guarding us to level a city block. But as we traveled through the city, I could feel the resentment arising around us. Some areas of the city had devolved into looting and violence as political unrest had culminated in riots. This is where the most radical elements of the country reared its head, brandishing red flags and calling for a dramatic economic reform.
When I reached my destination, I was transported to a conference room situated almost a mile in the sky. Sitting just above us was the largest communication mast in the country, sending thousands of television signals and telephone communications across the country. Before me lay investors in oil, steel and the booming industry of micro-electronics. They informed me that they had shareholders to keep satisfied, and that if these satisfactions were not met, economic troubles lay ahead. I quickly learned that they were giving me an ultimatum, and not seeking to negotiate with me on economic policy.
One of the guards in the room but a rifle to my head, stopping me in the middle of my sentence. I guess they were bored with me lecturing them about economics, and wanted to cut to the chase. Shouting in aggressive Spanish, a man with the rank of a colonel ordered one of his men to bring in a radio into the room. Before me, a military-grade transistor radio was placed and tuned to the frequency through which generals communicated. At first I had difficulty discerning what was happening. There was shouting, along with abrupt interference, filling the radio-space. I soon could make out the sound of gunshots through the radio, and in the distance soft thumps began filling my ears. The General in the room informed me that, with the funding of a few business men who feared potential government regulations, a section of the officer corps had decided to take matters into their own hands and 'reestablish the temporary military government.' They were to form an emergency committee that would act as the legislative and executive body, with final say in judicial decisions, and wanted me to give them verbal support.
I remained silent. I wouldn't say anything out of a mixture of fear and shock. They transported me to another room with a group of soldiers who kept watch over me. This wasn't like the last time the military overthrew the government. This was messy, and poorly put together. The officer corps was engaged in infighting with other parts of the military, and I could feel the thump of tank fire and bombing reverberating through the superstructure of the building I was now trapped in. I now had a choice laid before me, to either take heed to their wants and be given an opportunity to live, or be killed.
I hobbled across the cafeteria towards the country to get my lunch. Today they were serving extra rations provided by the military, with a carton of almost spoiled milk to drink. The kitchen was situated to the side of the cafeteria, built into the wall like a cave on a mountain side. The glow of fluorescent light bulbs fizzled out into the dark cafeteria, which would otherwise be completely dark save for a little light provided by small windows far above. I made my way past a crowd of people towards the counter, desperate for something to eat.
The whole room was filled with the stench of old food and kids who hadn't showered in days. Above me, a dangling fluorescent light flickered. The government didn't care to pay anyone to repair broken light fixtures or plumbing for a school of lost orphans like ours. The decayed state of this place was a constant reminder of the value society had placed in us, reminding us that we were to be cast aside as soon as the government was done doing its bare minimum to educate us.
"Joseee!" a girl obnoxiously yelled as I walked towards the table. She was always so awkward around me and it was incredibly annoying. I tried to mask how much she bothered me but sometimes others could distinguish that her awful attempts to flirt agitated me.
Next to me, a few of my friends talked about the football match in Caracas. The Russian team had been on a long winning streak, and were set to win the world cup again, but it was killed by the skilled defenders of the Filipino team. But I couldn't care today because a teacher this morning had killed my mood.
"José, what's up?" Asked Emannuel, a very popular but unfortunately very insecure kid. He made himself feel better by being humorous, and compensated for his insecurities through seeking attention. It made people like being around him, but his motivation for socialization originated from a place of sadness.
"Nothing, you?" I responded, taking a swig of milk.
"Oh, nothing much. I don't have much going on," he responded. I knew he had something he wanted to talk about because I could see a look of excitement in his face.
They made really shitty milk now, it was pasteurized artificially in these massive plants a hundred miles outside of the city. The Russians had used biological weapons to target American agriculture during the war, and spread a potent virus that decimated the cow population. The dairy industry had no choice but to invent an artificial process. It was really disgusting. They grew masses of fat in these large vats, which was then ground into fine particles before being mixed with water.
I remember seeing pictures in history class of cows piled on-top of each-other, creating hills of these dead cows. Government employees who gathered the cows in these spots had to wear gas masks and full body suits to protect themselves from the stench of decaying flesh. They had nowhere else to put them so they just created mass graves. According to the history texts, the population of cows and chickens actually used to outnumber the global population of people.
My mind snapped back to the conversation. "You really have nothing going on?" I asked Emmanuel, prying at his need to talk.
"Really, if I'm going to be honest, I do. You remember that girl I had been talking with? Well, last night, we were talking over the communication line. I asked her if she wanted to hang out and she came over to my ... " I'll spare you the details because you get the idea. Emmanuel likes to talk a lot about things he can't get. I guess he's at least an imaginative person.
"That's great, Emmanuel." I said as he trailed off. Sometimes he bothered me, but I tried to be a paitent person and let him talk. Patience is supposed to be a virtue, after all.
Another kid chimed in, who took note of my mood.
"What's bothering you José? You look all pissed off today." Marcos said.
"He's just tired of squinting all day." Emmanuel added, what a dick. My glasses were broken and I couldn't afford a new pair, so I had to squint sometimes to see far. It wasn't that big of a deal but Emmanuel liked making fun of people that he felt were better than him, and the only thing he could prod at was my eyesight and my leg.
I know why he felt the need to do that, he and others thought I was good with girls. The truth was, I just wasn't a dick to people. Or, I tried not to be. They spent so much time chasing after something they could get if they didn't place so much importance on it.
"That's not it, Emmanuel. My eyes are fine." I responded.
"Then why are you pissy?" Marcos insisted.
Well, that morning my teacher had given me a failing grade on an assignment that I had worked hard on. I didn't care about that class at all, but I had to write an essay on the government which I hated. It's hard to focus when the couple in the apartment next door can't stop fighting. And the bare pipes above me coursed with hot and cold water which sucked away my attention. I hated the government provided housing and I wanted nothing but to get out. It was an improvement from boarding school racks but it still sucked. I don't like having to walk around puddles of piss and arguments between drug dealers every morning. And having an asshole with a shitty attitude as a teacher didn't help my goal of getting out.
"It's nothing serious, I just got a bad grade in government. I'm fine, though." I said.
"Yeah, that teacher is a real bitch." Emmanuel stated.
"Don't stress so much about it. That shit doesn't matter. Your grades will be fine." Marcos said, who cared a little too much about football and a lot less about school.
"Why are you still worrying about your grades, José? You act like you'll be a fucking-" Emmanuel said.
"I don't know." I responded.
"Then shut the fuck up about it." Emmanuel added. I gladly will, Emmanuel. I didn't want to talk about it in the first place.
Maybe, though, I just wanted to be able to drink actual milk someday. And I didn't want to have to swat roaches in my apartment. But forget about all of that.
The ring of a bell marking the end of lunch ended, and I headed to class. Next was mathematics, which was really intuitive so I didn't have to pay attention in that class.
Next to me sat Isabella, who I thought was actually good-looking and had a personality that I could enjoy being around. Her friends sat at our table with us, but only made small-talk with them, so I can't say much about them. During class we'd usually talk about gossip, and other people, occasionally stopping when a difficult lesson would come up.
Our teacher had clearly given up on life, because the most thoughtfulness he could muster for educating us was just lecturing for a little while. He ignored it when we talked or slept through the class, and even said that he didn't care about that. The district wasn't sending its finest to us. I honestly think they had just given up.
Isabella talked about some people who had been mad at her friend, and I honestly didn't care. I just knew to nod my head and listen, because for some reason people appreciated that a lot. I've been told again and again that I'm a good listener, when I didn't even listen.
"So I told him that he needs to relax, and try to let go of the situation. Like, if he wants to make things work, he can't be so angry all the time." She said. "Right?"
"Yeah." I responded.
"And I don't understand why she can't just stop flirting with other guys. Like, I know she thinks it isn't anything intimate, but he does. And I really just want them to be happy for each-other, but they can't be." Isabella said. She always seemed concerned about other people.
"I know," I said.
"It's just... I don't know, it's just a lot." Isabella said.
That was cool and all, but what captured my minds attention was the fight that was supposed to be happening tonight at a bar a few blocks away from our school. They regularly held kickboxing bouts, which had surged in popularity recently. A local fighter and somebody from another side of town were set to fight.
"Isabella," I asked.
"Yeah?" She responded.
"Do you want to go watch the fight tonight?" It wasn't a date or anything, but I don't like showing up to events like that by myself.
"The one at, at La Niebla?" She asked.
"Yeah." I responded.
"Is that the place where Lucas lost last year?" She asked. That was another story for another time.
"I think so," I said.
"I think I can go," she said. "Where do you want to meet up?"
"Near my apartment block?" I asked. "Does that work for you?"
"Yeah, sure." She said. It was kind of dangerous walking around alone but she should be fine since she lives near the school, and if anybody tried doing anything to her people would act to enforce some sort of a punishment. That way, we all stayed protected.
Class ended. Then I went phased through the rest of the day and headed home.
The buzz of clicking electrodes filled my room. A copy of the city newspaper printed onto my terminal through the telephone line. The green light of the cathode-ray tube screen illuminated my room while I prepared dinner. The flickering fuzzy letters read; '2001-10-14: Important Message from the Government of the Socialist Republic of Mexico.' The government distributed all of these stupid messages all the time, meant to keep people informed on updated laws or whatever else they think impacts them. I usually ignored them but that day I was bored, so I scanned the first paragraph.
Something about paratroopers landing on Cuban soil. They said on the television that it was going to be an easy fight, because the air force had been bombing the country for nearly two months. Much of the Cuban military was destroyed when they assaulted an American port on the Island when the war happened. They didn't have the ability to fight back. I didn't understand why the government was attacking them, because they were supposed to be comrades in ideology, but I guess they thought it would be an easy catch.
Noodles were really easy to prepare. You pulled a string, there was a muffled pop and a small puff of smoke came out of a ring of ventilation in the container. You then screwed open the metal canister, and your noodles were fresh and ready to eat. I ate dinner, before putting on my jacket and exiting my apartment. I entered my identification code into the keypad to exit the complex, and walked down the street.
The street was caked in sodium light. In the distance I could see Isabella's figure waiting for me near the Palestinian corner restaurant. The smell of Mediterranean food wafted down the street, and filled my nostrils. I know I had a stumble in my walk, but I walked with enough confidence to recover it. A city bus flew past, illuminating Isabella's face with the green light of its display which showed what street it was heading too.
The weather was dreary. A drizzle rained down. It was a little chilly, too. I immediately felt bad for making her wait out here for me, but I couldn't head over to her apartment. It wasn't safe for me
"How long have you been waiting out here?" I asked.
"Only for a minute," she said. I couldn't tell if she was lying, or if she just said that to make me feel better. Below the rising apartment blocks, we headed towards 'La Niebla' - the infamous bar that was holding tonight's fight. We walked under an overpass where passenger trains rushed through, the wind blowing our hair as they passed. Neon lights from shops dotting the sidewalk helped illuminate the path forward. Through the deepened smoggy atmosphere echoed the sound of sirens, and the screaming whir of electric sports cars racing through city blocks. Below the familiar rumbling of cargo trains passing through the vacuum-compressed military tunnels shook the foundations of the buildings around us as they sped through near the speed of sound.
Mexico City didn't seem to have a sense of order. With the overgrowth of the city, the municipal government had been spread thin and seemed to forget about petty crimes. They decided to prioritize on more important things, like tax collection or protecting important places. I always tried to keep a keen awareness of my surroundings, because I never knew which desperate crack-head would be next to try and jump me. I noticed some sketchy people on the way, but they didn't do anything but glance at us with contempt.
Refracting through a crack in my lenses, a neon purple light entered into my eye. A gambling casino was situated to our left, with a few stragglers scrounging for whatever money they could find outside. Past that, I could see the rising refineries branded with the inscription of an important oil corporation. Toxic fumes and fire spewed into the sky. This area marked the beginning of the industrial sector of the city, where refined oil entered compressed pipelines to travel to the Yucatan and Baja peninsula's before being exported to the world. In a dilapidated office high-rise sat a street-level door, otherwise inconspicuous save for a flickering fluorescent sign indicating its location. Around the door old coffee-cups and paper fluttered in the wind, and a few glass bottled rolled along with. The wall was tagged with various street gangs and a few posters for the fight were plastered nearby. We entered the door, stepping down into the basement to find ourselves in the bar.
Once we entered, our ears were met with a rush of noise. Holding Isabella's hand, I pushed forward. A tipsy person stumbled into me, and I tried pushing through the crowd towards the ring where the fight was to be held. I wandered around the bar with Isabella, and tried to avoid the stench of alcohol as people breathed onto me. The blue sound of drum machines and synthesizers reflected through the room as music played over old speakers. At first, I didn't pay attention to my surroundings. But the more I wandered through, the more I noticed the tension hanging over the air.
The establishment had set up a few slot machines over in the corner, near some booths where couple's and hooligans drank. Gambling was actually illegal in Mexico. It had been outlawed five years ago under a new Socialist program. But no one bothered to enforce it. I remember being told something about the evil's of money, how it corrupted men's minds and had the potential to suck all of the happiness out of them. They showed us videos of well off Americans or Western Europeans, from documentaries well before the war. Each video was formatted the same, with an American or French or German living in a happy home with a family before gradually reaching the end where the man no longer had a smile. Instead, it was replaced with a frown on his face, wrinkles, and sad, sunken eyes. All of the signs of age due to stress.
It actually looked a lot like those people outside of the gambling houses, I thought. Maybe the Socialists were actually onto something. But for all the evil money must possess, it really would have solved a lot of the problems I had. The government spent a lot of time demonizing the thing they hoard the most. That truth made you a very nihilistic person sometimes. Over by one of those gambling booths, an argument devolved into a fist fight. I didn't see how it ended as too many people crowded around to watch.
I know that people's emotions ran high over the identity they held for their particular part of the city they called home. I saw fighting over it all the time. At school, kids would fight over what city blocks they lived on. It seemed petty and stupid, but people clung to any identity they could find when they were desperate for a reason to live.
"This place is really messy," Isabella said.
"I know, their are a lot of people who don't care about cleaning up here." I responded.
"Do you come to this place a lot?" She asked.
"Not really, I don't like this place that much." I said. I liked to hang out at another place, somewhere that was a little safer.
"So... Where do you go to hang out?" She nudged.
I didn't know why she was engaging in awkward small talk but it wasn't going to be the end of the world. "Another place, near my apartment. I can show you the place sometime if you'd like."
"Will you really?" She asked.
"Yeah, of course." I said.
"So, who are you going to cheer for?" She asked.
"I'm not really cheering for anybody, but I've placed my bet on the fighter from Colombia." I said.
"Oh, with who?" She said.
"You know that one kid you take chemistry with?" I said. "The guy who never shaves?"
"Jose, that's a lot of people." Isabella responded.
"I know, but I can't remember his name." I explained.
"You can't remember the name of someone you made a bet with?" She asked.
"He's not really a friend, I just talked to him about the fight the other day." I said. "Errr, Raul. That's his name, Raul."
"Oh, he's an asshole." Isabella said.
"Yeah, I know. That's why I don't consider him a friend." I said.
The main fight was about to begin. Stepping under the ropes was Rigoberto Abellán, the champion of the hour. Born in Bagota, his family escaped to Mexico after political violence ripped through the city a few years before the war begun. They settled down in this neighborhood, the place that we all loved dearly. He humbly walked around the ring, chin up, looking at the audience like he was a commander observing his comrades before they stepped into battle. He greeted the referee, shaking his hand, and bowed. What a well-mannered fighter.
Next up was Miguel Xirau, the antagonist. He had a wide grin on his face, like he was better than everyone else and he knew it. He flexed his muscles, and shouted a roar to cheer himself for the fight. Miguel was from the other side of the sprawling city, a place that many people here resented for its opulence and success. Miguel prepared for the fight by stretching and shaking his limbs, acting as though he were getting ready to sprint the one-hundred meter.
The referee's rang the bell, and the fighters stepped forward. Rigoberto calmly moved on the balls of his feet, his left foot always in front of his right, approaching the enemy. Xirau meanwhile circled Rigoberto like a hawk, evading his approach and waiting for a moment to strike. Like a drunk entering an argument, Xirau aggressively throwing the first straight. Rigoberto responded by parrying with his hand-wrapped fists, and landing a rear-leg kick on Xirau's lower-ribs. Stunned, Xirau backed up to the ropes but stepped back into the fight with a more clever approach. Xirau landed a few jabs on Rigoberto, and blocked a return jab of his.
"They're really aggressive," Isabella said.
"Yeah." I agreed.
Studying the fighters, I noticed that Rigoberto was getting tired. He attempted to wear down his own opponent by staying near him consistently, but now that Xirau was doing most of the punching, Rigoberto was busy trying to protect his face. It looked like Xirau was a little better than Rigoberto. His technique wasn't as sketchy, but Rigoberto worked harder, I thought. He sustained hit after hit, and did not once back up.
Responding to the argument, Rigoberto counted with more rear-leg kicks. One after the other, they slammed into Xirau and nearly forced him off of his feet. Xirau was stunned again, and attempted to recoup the situation by clenching his hands around Rigoberto's neck. Rigoberto responded by doing the same to Xirau, and the clenching-battle began. I heard some rumors before the fight that Xirau had even traveled to Myanmar to train in Muay-Thai, so were that true, this would be an easy opportunity for him to knock the lights out of his opponent.
But Rigoberto landed a well-placed knee on Xirau's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Xirau tried doing the same to Rigoberto, but was too winded to land it properly. Just before it seemed like Rigoberto was going to break out of the clench-hold and destroy Xirau, the round ended and both fighters returned to their corners. Their coaches bitched at them, and Xirau's coaches rubbed ice over his body. The thirty-second break was almost over. The fighters mentally prepared themselves to return to the event.
This time, Xirau went head on into the brush. Rigoberto ducked under a hook, before landing one of his own. Xirau stayed quick on his feet, ready to take down his rival and put this puto in the right place. He was eager to protect his pride and show the audience his bravado. But Rigoberto remained steadfast in the face of Xirau's aggressive tactics, giving back everything that was given to him. Xirau tried seizing an opportunity to land a kick on Rigoberto's left leg, but the kick was shin-blocked and Xirau was now left limping. But he was still determined, landing a few more jabs on Rigo, leaving his nose bleeding. Drenched and sweat and blood, the fighters gave their last energy reserves towards winning. Adrenaline was rushing through their veins now, giving them one last boost before they collapsed from exhaustion.
[incomplete]

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