Last time I discussed how Manifestations “die.” This time, I’d like to develop Agents as a tactical consideration.

Because Agents are units too; They move about the battlefield and engage in actions. They can have weapons, tools, and one of the two actions every turn can be used by them. All that said, what impact do they have on the game?

The obviously simple answer is “a target.” It makes sense that Manifestations are only present because of the Agent, so if the Agent “dies,” then so do the other Manifestations. This would turn every combat into a complex “defend the Agent” combat, but without significant balancing and rule-rewriting, the best strategy is a cross-the-map sniper that kills the Agent in one hit. I think we can do better.

Words are powerful things. One of the greatest lies in modern discourse is the suggestion that words are somehow less significant or “real” than physical action. “Sticks and Stones,” after all. A politician who says all the right things is branded an empty suit if their actions are not measured in kind. But words control us in marked and unavoidable ways. There are words that we feel bad for saying, or uncomfortable even thinking.

Holly’s bed was small, rickety, and at least a hundred years old. It had belonged to her grandfather, after it had been given to him by his grandfather, along with the tiny cabin. It had been the only piece of furnature in the cabin for years. Holly’s great great grandfather had been the chronically outdoors type, unwilling to do anything inside that could be done just as well outside. He cooked his food, mended his clothes, polished his rifle and sharpened his tools all outdoors. He only slept inside, and even then only when it was too cold, wet, or dangerous to sleep outside.

Holly’s grandfather was nowhere near as outdoorsy, so he had improved the cabin with some modern renovations. A sink, a fireplace, a few cupboards and shelves. It was nice and cosy, the perfect place to get away from it all.

The medical station on the Croatoan was, as Victoria had said so many years ago, cramped. At its best, it meant that Victoria was always within arms reach of all her tools, and no time was ever wasted looking for a vital instrument.

Nevertheless, there was no escaping the fact that there was really only enough room for a single medical bed, and just enough room for a single person to walk around it.

Sughouri was lying on that bed now, staring at nothing at all.

They talked every day, sharing thoughts and feelings and experiences. Sometimes Victoria was excited, marveling at what it had been like. Other times she was like a cautious parent, warning Sughouri against thinking to fast, or feeling to hard on herself.

They had taken Sughouri apart, neurosis by neurosis. They talked about how hard it was to live in a military family. They talked about having friends torn away, and how no satisfactory reason was ever given, because what answer could be satisfactory? They talked about how her parents never explained their sudden absences, how their clearance didn’t extend to family members, especially children.

How do Manifestations die?

“Die” probably isn’t the best word for it. In Pokémon, the mons simply “faint.” You can’t permanently lose a Pokémon, and I doubt Manifestations are any more transient. They must be able to “demanifest,” however, else combats will last forever, and all the damage-dealing and condition-applying is so much nonsense.

So, how does a Manifestation demanifest?

The obvious answer is, as always, their HP reaches 0. That’s not a terrible metric — there are reasons why cliches stick around — and a lot of systems will naturally fit into it. While I may find a more interesting ludo-narrative later, this is a good place to start. Let’s play with some numbers.

How long had Sughouri wandered? Years. Only seconds. Her heart ached, her limbs burned. She was dying, crushed by the intense weight of Proxima b. Her mind wasn’t working properly anymore. She was dreaming while awake, whispering to ghosts and crying out to absent friends.

She was in the mine. She knew she was. The tunnel kept going, and if she kept walking, she would soon come to the same door that connected to the refinery. She would see empty hoppers and pickaxes, and then she would be halfway there.

When she thought of it, she checked her watch.

It had been ten minutes since she fell.

“Sughouri?”

A passing fancy flit through Sughouri’s mind. She didn’t have to answer Kristiana when she called. What would that do to them, to be cut off? How would they react?

“Yes?” she answered, the moment past.

“What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be up for another two hours.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sughouri shrugged. “Things to do today, so might as well get started.”

“Such as?” Victoria now. They all suspected. They had to have suspected for days now. They were watching her vitals every second of every hour. For all her naivete about space and the sciences, Victoria wasn’t stupid about people. Besides, they could see where she was heading.

Last time, I looked at Abilities and what sort of “Special Effects” Sync could add to their basic attacks. One of the more obvious options is conditions, so this time I’d like to look into what kind of conditions Manifest could have.

Luckily, I have two great sources of inspiration: Trespasser and Demon Crawl – Gothic.

Demon Crawl – Gothic, similar to its spiritual sequal Steel Hearts, has a small number of conditions, one for each damage-type. Designed to be a quick paced action game, these conditions aren’t the more narratively focused conditions like prone or grappled. Instead, they are closer to the hinderances of an action-adventure video game. Burning, for example, causes you to take three damage whenever you deal damage to an enemy. Rotting means you take an extra 2 damage whenever damage is dealt to you. Being Hexed causes you to receive 1 damage every square you move.

It had taken almost four days for Sughouri to finish her work. Cutting through the door was difficult enough, and took two four-hour days before she was finished. Then she fed a flexible camera through the hole, bringing along a connector cable with it. Breaking into the keypad took another day, and connecting her hacking kit into the security lock was no small feat in itself.

In the end, it took a full thirteen hours to break through the military-grade security lock on the door, and once she had finished, she had to return to the Hut and leave actually opening the lounge for the next day.

Today.

It had been a harrowing week for Victoria. Her mind filled with inescapable imaginings fueled by her past. Behind that door, there could be two hundred corpses, perfectly preserved in their final moments of death. It would be her job to discover what those final moments were.

Kristiana’s head was throbbing.

“Hamēstagān is a place referenced in the Dādestān ī Dēnīg, a ninth-century Persian religious text,” she recited. “It had been written by Zoroastrian high priest, and it’s composed entirely of ninety-two questions followed by the priest’s answers. Hamēstagān is a place where dead souls are sent to wait. It’s a neutral place for those whose good and evil deeds are in perfect balance, to wait for the day of judgment.”

“Okay, but what does it mean?” Sughouri said over the com. “‘Gone to Hamēstagān.’ Is this their way of saying they knew they were dying?”

“That’s one possibility,” Kristiana admitted. She didn’t like how excited Sughouri was getting. If she started to panic or lost control, there was nothing any of them could do. “We don’t have all the information yet, so it’s counterproductive to start guessing wildly.”

“It’s not wild,” Sughouri huffed. “It’s right there, on the wall of a flipping kitchen: Gone. To. Hamēstagān. Look, I’m all for restraint when it comes to making guesses, but it’s not like they’re speaking in code, here.”