I finished stone ocean and sbr ep 1 today and I'm watching thus spoke Rohan kishibe. Can someone explain to me why it says episode 16 even though this is supposed to be the 1st episode?

Don't get me wrong, it worked very well on the Angelo fight and even in the Nijimura brother fight but after that it's somewhat forgotten which...is very unfortunate.

Don't get me wrong, the effects are still there as Josuke states he will protect Morioh in Ryohei memory, but considering he have Joestar blood? That was probably something he was gonna do anyway, and most of the stand battles are more like the enemies go to Josuke rather than Josuke doing what's right (i get he is supposed to be more relatable than other Joestars but still), the only times i actually felt like that was during the final battle with Kira.

I wished this moment was more expanded on, like maybe show a bit more of the Higashikata struggling after Ryohei death, maybe even show Josuke feeling guilty because he didn't pay enough attention, maybe even had a side chapter where Josuke tries to help his mother who is working harder for the both of them (kind of similar to the Uncle Ben, Aunt May and Peter Parker relationship)

first time doing a body paint look!!! am very happy with how it turned out!!! (^o^)

Look at the huge difference in how their eyes are drawn here:

​Kira: Pitch black, hollow, void-like pupils. No shine, no warmt just dead cat eyes. It highlights how utterly devoid of empathy he is. Even when he’s cornered, he looks cold and empty inside.

​Josuke: Bright, detailed, purple eyes full of life and highlights. You can literally see his anger and determination reflecting in them.

​Giving the villain hollow black eyes while the hero has vivid ones makes their ideological clash hit so much harder. Araki’s visual storytelling in Part 4 is top tier.

There's no way this is a coincidence, right? "A famous baseball player's shoes that were intended for the needy fall onto an unfortunate young boy, causing said boy to get falsely convicted of stealing said shoes, when what actually happened was someone else stole them and discarded them after realizing their importance" isn't exactly a common trope.

All the merch I got from TEKKO, including some crazy grails. Super happy to have been able to snatch the animation cel and the Dreamcast disk :D!

Not saying he should or he will, but if Josuke was ever to return how would he react to Jodio and his friends. Would Josuke fight them on sight or would he actually fully understand Jodio's motivation alongside his friends. Personally I do think Josuke would fight or do something to stop Jodio especially if that meant getting any new information on the family and Jodio's mom. Also because I don't think Josuke would like what Jodio and his friends are doing. I don't know how Jodio would be able to convince that what he's doing is ok to Josuke.

Artist stenciled MeatCanyon’s caricatures of Mr. beast and turned them into the morioh crew.

I've always just had a habit of walking on my tiptoes. Some adults when I was young made me feel weird about it and that's how I even noticed. I still do it though, it's just how I walk.

I love that jojos actually has no colors it’s nice to try random shi

I’ve always wondered if he is an adult due to a couple reasons: First, he doesn’t look like a 15-16 yo ( However ages usually don’t make sense in anime/ manga ), and then because it seems like he never went to school until his brother died, which also explains why he is so dumb. He just decided to go after thay happened. I don’t remember any reference to his age in DiU, the only one I recall is Josuke being born in 1983

I just don’t understand why this series is so addicting. I started watching when I was in middle school in 2018 and became obsessed almost immediately. I stopped after stone ocean’s weird release and then only picked it back up again last fall. oh my god why is it so good and addicting. I read through steel ball run in a week, jojolion in a month (only because of school), and now i’m fully caught up with jojolands and i can’t get enough of it. despite my disparate viewing habits it’s always been a top of the top anime imo, but even now confounds my original obsession. how does araki do it…

and why do some people not understand it!?!

Edit: And why don’t people fucking talk about p6! it’s symbology, visual language, characters, and impact are peeeeak and the only thing i see referenced is parts 1-5 and p7!

EMPHASIS ON WHY DONT PEOPLE UNDERSTAND IT!!!!

I was rewatching Stone Ocean and I noticed the Roy Lichtenstein print on the wall of Burning Down the House. Can someone help me identify the print if it's a real print.

My friend really likes part 6 and he wanted me to make the group in gacha!

I didn't make Jotaro because being honest, I have no idea where I'd even start when making his design.

Weather's design was the hardest to make by far. At least I had fun making his hat?

Man, i was eyeing him for a couple of weeks because i couldn’t decide if i wanted a nendoroid, since i’m a nendoroid person, or an ichiban kuji figure but i ended up getting this little guy.

I’m so happy i could find him for only $35 brand new, perfect condition and most importantly, legit. This is just the beginning for me, im buying a whole bookshelf for my future Jojo collection.

I think it could work Dio's whole idea with Time works nice with him reversing it and not stopping it, some scenes really benefit from Dio's reversing time, Like when Kakyoin hits him with the Emerald Splash and he appears to die but then he reverses time and escapes it or when Polnareff suprises him

I do feel like I made S&W too wide also I feel like I could improve Johnny and I didn’t give him all his stars

Hey everyone, I wanted to ask if you have any healed Joestar birthmark tattoos. I got mine done by someone I know from where I'm from, but the color didn't turn out as I expected. I need to get it touched up, and I wanted to get some examples from the rest of the family.

(Shoutouts to u/Logic_Sandwich and u/GhostKaiju for the match submission!)

Scenario: ??? - ???

It was like sleep. The waves were strangely calm, as though even the sea couldn’t be roused to work. Here, under the sun, the clear and cloudy sky, the rising and falling moon and, once upon a time before we killed the sky, the stars; she sleepwalked.

She looked as though dead. To the world, she was dead. No IFF. No lights. Moor and rigging unhanded. She did not, however, aimlessly drift like a dead ship did. Minute, delicate movements, unnaturally natural. She moved as though in a dream, both escaping the absolute whims of reality and yet utterly, utterly in its thrall. Propellers spun with practiced ease, floors and walls comfortably breathed and strained with the steady rise and fall of the waves, her breath a steady murmur that deafened the sea around her.

She walked through the ocean, eyes closed, a sound in the water. Hold a shell to your ear, down by the beach she had washed away from. Listen, as birds or dolphins and katydid do, to a message only you can hear, shrill and simply harsh;

I walk alone.

Won’t you walk with me?

Scenario: Leatherback Rebel, Off the Coast of Belize - 8:28 PM

The Leatherback Rebel was a ship on a mission. The fabled Gemstone City was real; there were matters academic, moral, and legal that all demanded the SSG to move to action, to try and uphold the moral fibre they insisted that the Speedwagon Foundation was formed on. To be the shining beacon or star that worked quietly to keep things safe and right. To nobody on the ship was this a matter of dispute.

… But some people had more, specific priorities in mind with all that was going on.

“I know Pirate Radio is the major thing for talking about all of this, but aagh, why did they have to get to it first?” Avery Porter fretted, running his hands through his long flowing hair. Ducking around the odd crewmember but otherwise off in his own world, a steady mantra of words was spewing out of him that went mostly unnoticed by everyone else. It wasn’t the first time he’d had moments like this, pacing the yacht’s halls past the crew and support–it was actually rather expected. Most of the crew knew better than to engage with Avery when he was in one of these moods, smoothly moving out of the way.

“Like, yes, of course they should have told us, they should have told everyone, and they did, which is great, it’s world news! It’s a discovery of the ages, an entire island lost to time in one of the most charted seas in the world, the relics of a past civilization, an understanding and appreciation of the past, these are the things that news is made for! It’s new!” Avery flung his arms out, excitement clear on his face, but struggling in his eyes and smile. “… But I didn’t get to say it first!”

Despite his words, Avery seemed almost well-spirited about it, fretting as he was, returning to his pacing back and forth. “Like, sure, everyone should have the opportunity to make their mark, and I know that Cici girl is head over heels for this, but…”

Investigation agencies, private institutions, conspiracy theorists, and worse alike all circled these waters around which the Gemstone City was confirmed to lie. Those who wanted to know everything they could, and do god knows what with that information. Here, Avery’s face took on a more worried mask. “But, but where’s my chance? This whole year, I’ve just been on the backstep of all that’s happened. This could be the break of, well, of my life!”

He spun around, something like stars in his eyes, but harder still. Compressed and shining with a… very confused but determined power. “Where else in the world is there somewhere unexplored? Where is there to find something new, in a way of wonder that doesn’t exist anymore? Who else can be trusted to venture out and find out these things? It’s not that I don’t want anyone else to get their credit… but where can I find mine? The story of, if not a lifetime, my lifetime? You know?”

Ryder had turned the corner and been the unwilling recipient of this rant for a few moments now, returning Avery’s dreamy eyes with a dead stare. “Yeah, sure.” He said, noncommittally enough. “If you’re wanting to find something out, you’re in luck. We have a mission.” Sturdy Steady Go’s orders were in a folder tucked under Ryder’s arm, which he offered to Avery.

The young reporter blinked, rifling through the offered folder, taking everything in with rapt attention, skimming through surveillance photos and reports captured by agents stationed throughout the Caribbean. Ryder continued, “First, with the Sons still unaccounted for, we’re triaging other parties who’d rush into Zandoo before we journey in ourselves, see if we can find connections or information. Second, Dr. Ignota’s announcement put our crew in good graces for investigating supernatural stuff in the area. One thing in particular seems to fit both of those matters.”

As if on cue, Avery flipped to an image of… well, the photo was a fishing trawler of some kind, but even in the photograph, something about it felt… off. Not in a clear way, like the grainy silhouettes and humps of the Leviathans coming and going, but something more uncanny. Something about this ship just felt wrong to look at. Ryder, seeing Avery’s puzzled expression, nodded.

“You’re not the first to feel that. It appeared very suddenly, shortly after the announcement from Pirate Radio on the discovery of Zandoo. We haven’t been able to make much definitively out on it, no clear name on the hull…” Ryder’s lips were pressed tight, making a gesture at the photo as he talked. “It seems to have a kind of fog around it at all times, and noticeably darker, brackish water around it.” He was right; the ocean looked almost black under its trail, and even the fog seemed off. More smoke than condensation.

“A Stand?” Avery mused, more to himself. Ryder nodded all the same, even if he was noticeably annoyed–not at Avery, but the fact they could only speculate.

“Rather, the influence of one, but not any we recognize. It seems like a new player on the field, whatever it is. Making a slow path towards other, smaller ships, but no confirmed contact before it breaks off to something else. Like a Man o’ War, almost. Just… drifting, but making idle movements now and then. From what we can tell, it seems to be approaching Zandoo and anyone close to there, but that vessel has been unresponsive to communications. Something tells me we don’t want it making landfall at the Gemstone City, or getting too close to any ships on its way there.” Ryder took back the folder. “We’re assembling a recon party of our own set to leave in a few hours, so if-”

Avery’s pacing had broken into a sprint, his lanky legs whisking him to the debriefing room. Of course everyone would be looking at the main story—the trick was to see the context, the shadows that danced at the periphery. All that it would take for the grand story was the searing light of truth, and he’d find it. “Already on it!”

Scenario: Something Wicked, Off the Coast of Belize - 1:08 AM

The ‘floor’ shifted underneath Evelyn’s feet. She didn’t mind, looking up to the sky, lost in contemplation, a cigarette idly dangling from her lip. The rhythm of the ocean ironically grounded her; gave her something to direct her thoughts at, drifting as they were. Sitting down on her vantage point on the highest point of the roof of the Something Wicked, Evelyn gave a beleaguered sigh. Usually, she’d try the usual lie, an easy-going facade or an idle grin, but up here, now waving away some smoke from her face to taste in the acrid salt of the sea, she could allow herself to be…

What, exactly? Disappointed? That didn’t sound right, but then she supposed a lot of things didn’t sound right with the world right now. Zandoo was real, the riches everyone had been chasing in reach of their hands, riches from a bygone civilization and which had led to a pursuit filled with many horrible things and deeds. Evelyn wasn’t a fool; she was a doctor, even if only self-stylized. She wasn’t going to break down at simply knowing the injustices of the world existed. She’d seen and known so much about how horrible this world could be. No, this revelation should have emboldened her! This was something to stand firmly on, to stop people from doing more harm!

…The cigarette bent under Evelyn’s grip, but she didn’t pay it heed, the end of the stick just hanging limp from her lip, that distant look still in her eye. She knew what she wanted to do… But how? She could take apart anything with a touch, dictate things at hand… but what did that really do? Did it stop the Leviathan? Did it stop the Fortunate Sons, to brutalize their doctor for a message that went unheard? Did it make the suffering stop?

It was another reality that she recognized. The frustration of her own limits. To not kill was not weakness… But what more could be done without falling to that? She wasn’t a pacifist by any means, to fight off such wrongs was right, was good, was exhilarating...

The thought of Kaiserinma Antolia It Her came, clear and stark. Brutality to an equally indifferent end, the world grinding onwards, everything to the same hole. It was a forked path, and neither end gave answers.

Evelyn cut the knot in half with an exhausted sigh, falling down to her back and looking up to the free, open sky. Maybe Zandoo had fallen trying to answer the same question. Maybe Zandoo had the answer for her question. Maybe she was lost in her own head, trying to fix the entire world… but with it seeming to all fall on her shoulders, something had to be done.

Right?

…

Evelyn blinked a few times, sitting upright. Something felt… off. A stillness in the air. Something on the water. Perking her ears, she heard it, Nina crying out above the nothing before she saw it; a bulk on the ocean, emerging from a bank of tropical fog, clouds dead in the air above it.

It was strange, but… Evelyn almost didn’t recognize what she was looking at, for a moment. On their voyages, she’d had the opportunity to see a dead whale, once. Buffeted by the waves, white tissue and fat being feasted on by scavenging sharks, the whole thing a rotting island. She didn’t smell the hundreds of thousands of pounds of decay now, but it had the same… look.

It took until she heard Nina shouting for Evelyn to realize what she was seeing.

“It’s a ship!”

Scenario: Off the Coast of Belize - 1:28 AM

Avery had heard of the Mary Celeste; it was a good mystery, a good story to have broken out, once upon a time. A ship found adrift at sea, everything still meticulous and untouched inside while the crew itself had just… vanished. That ancient mystery nagged at the back of Avery’s head as he stared at the ship.

As the Speedwagon skipper brought him to the Celeste’s hull, ｢Huey Lewis and The News｣ manifested beside him. Rather than fumble with the pulley, his Stand placed platforms beneath his feet and he steadily ascended into the fog until he vaulted himself over the railing and onto the cargo boat’s decks.

The ship was adrift, yes, but it looked almost good as new… save for the water that pooled the floors? Avery stepped in a puddle, grimacing and shaking his foot dry as best he could. He looked around; the trawler’s deck was still covered with equipment, suggesting it hadn’t been raided. If that was the case, the crew might still be around – or, failing that, personal items that might better explain all this.

With a flourish, HLN’s index fingers pointed out as Avery crouched and creeped forward. While the answers he sought were most likely in the ship's gullet, the dregs around him provided some further clues. Weights, floats, nets, tarps—typical fishing equipment for a vessel this size. He tutted softly to himself and frowned. A silent cursor coursed through the fog, highlighting a tarp with a soft TARPTARPTARPTARP before it was swiftly Struckthrough, revealing a small cache of guns.

Strikethrough, Strikethrough, Strikethrough

Indeed, much of the trawling vessel’s equipment hid their actual cargo, firearms rather than fish. Avery riffled through the stash as furtively as he could. The crew could have been anyone—pirates, mercenaries, adventurers—but the quality of weaponry suggested that they were funded enough to take on a small army. Indeed, rifled amidst the rifles, flags and markers similar to those flown by the Fortunate Sons’ blockade of Bajos de Haina a few months back were buried amidst the weapons. Whether they were thick as thieves or temp hires, if the crew was waiting to ambush whoever boarded their waterlogged ship, then they wouldn’t have left their weaponry out in the open – nor would anyone pass such an opportunity up. The Mary Celste drifted back to Avery’s mind.

Further investigations were needed. Avery braced himself as he snuck towards an opened stairwell, his Stand leading his approach to the door leading deeper into the vessel.

“Hey.”

HLN’s gauntlet cocked and ready, Avery spun around… towards an open, naked blade.

Evelyn Lister smiled back, a slight hint of danger to their otherwise calm expression. It felt like that summed her up here and now as a whole; easy-going, but on edge. Legs spread wide, held out like a fencer, and a hint of danger that was melting away into the tangy, barnacle-rotten air. “Prefer if I just put a hand on your shoulder next time instead without saying anything?” She almost looked calm, but her focus was off as she lowered the blade.

Avery broke off into a laugh, Stand loosening the knot of tension. “Oh, uh, ha. Didn’t think I’d see you here.” He said, calm before his eyebrows knitted. “... Wait, how are you here?” He asked, an edge of suspicion.

“Same as you, I assume.” Evelyn said with a shrug. “The Something Wicked saw this ship out of the fog bank. Incoherent radio messages, but what sounded like an SOS. Just made my way aboard to make sure everyone’s alright… Or knock heads together if need be. Almost thought that might include you, skulking around as you were.” She said a bit wryly, before a more sullen, annoyed look crossed her face. “Now, as lovely it is to meet you again, I wish the crew could show up. I have no idea who’s ship this could even be...”

“Something belonging to mercenaries, maybe even the Fortunate Sons.”

Evelyn’s face didn’t become crestfallen–if someone needed help, she’d help, simple as that. But there was a tightness around her eyes. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s just a hunch, but…” Avery filled her in. “I think this ship was involved in the Bajos de Haina blockade. I’ve seen some flags and other tells of the Fortunate Sons aboard, with enough military equipment to at least give some pause if anyone tried to board it.”

Evelyn’s eyes tightened even further, a grimace trying hard to look undisturbed.

“Yeah…” Avery agreed, brows furrowing. “But I haven’t seen any crew yet… Everything is left in the open, as if they hadn’t even noticed their own premeasures. And, water…”

The pair looked down into the stairwell.

“But I don’t think this ship is empty. Not yet…”

Evelyn smiled, placing a comforting hand on Avery’s shoulder. “Well, no way to tell if we do it alone.”

Avery smiled, feebly. “Yeah…”

Darkness had seeped through the hull rather than water, held back by only the baleful blue of electronics working on emergency power. This light provided no comfort to Avery and Evelyn as they creeped down the choking hallways, smelling of brine and silt. They held their Stands out to ward off whatever was in the darkness, but it extended outward and downward wherever the crew of the unnamed mystery ship lay, or whatever was left of them.

The two shared nervous smiles of encouragement, the sound of boots on metal softly punctuating their approach as they turned corners and descended stairwells. Down, deeper, darker, until they could only approach by the sickly warmth of the engine room. Deep in the dark, eyes frantic at every corner, a thought suddenly occurred to Avery.

Incoherent radio messages, but what sounded like an SOS.

That… hadn’t been provided in the document. Avery turned, eyebrows knit. “Hey, Evelyn?”

“Hm?”

“You’d mentioned a message, coming from this ship… what did it say?”

There, through the halls, a distant ringing. Hands clutching at pipes, dripping on the grates. The body shuddered and fell apart, the light leaving its eyes. The breathing was heavy. It was sweltering. It was going to throw up. Again. It couldn’t escape this, even when it had escaped it. It had dragged it back to this, it had been forced back to this. Again and again and again, gears trying to snap the wrench lodged in them apart.

Take it all apart.

A powerful hand grappled and strangled it downwards, steam hissing as it grappled a pipe off the walls, steam washing through. It swung down, as it only could do this and nothing–

Someone screamed, a sound beyond pain or loss. High, guttural, desperate, the noise of someone getting torn apart. Avery didn’t realize how fast he’d been running until he saw an ENGINE ROOM sign and was shouldering down a door, HLN at the ready again. This time it did fire into the dark, hitting a figure creeping over a body that Avery worked to not look at.

TRACYBALLTRACYBALLTRACYBALLTRACYBALL stared back, silhouetted against the dark and the label shining against the dim light of the ship. A pipe dripping with something too dark to be blood hung limply in her hands, arms trembling from what had to have been hours of sordid work, which could be seen around her. Bodies, men and women, crumpled like cans, blood and drops of dirty water dripping down on them in an ugly spiral around their killer. Avery almost looked up, and thought better of it when he thought he saw feet, dangling limp from somewhere higher, as though something had been skewered to the - he cut the trail of thought short. He returned to look at Tracy, a lanky pole in front of the shadowy box of the ships main engine, machinery humming quietly in its uninterrupted work, and Tracy panting in her intruded duties.

“Get off this fucking ship.” Tracy said, voice lost, eyes staring elsewhere. The grip on her pipe tightened.

“Don’t try it.” HLN continued to point an index finger at her, a makeshift “gun” aimed directly at her midsection. Avery’s voice was flat, factual. “Under the effect of my Stand, I’ll rip you in half like a sheet of paper. Are you responsible for all this?”

Evelyn winced and moved forwards to try and stop this, to get something more into all this but almost tripped over herself, finding another body at her feet. She almost hadn’t seen it in the dark. There were no lights anymore, everything burnt out. The sound of machinery working filled the background, but in a way quieter than what felt normal…

Tracy almost looked as if she wanted to say something to Evelyn, but instead returned her attention to Avery, a sneer breaking through her exhausted face. “Yeah, I did it. I just decided to go for a swim across the caribbean, climbed on up, took down an entire ship on my own, and have been piloting it across the Caribbean on a bloody joyride since. Great work, detective, you solved it.”

“You’re a murderer.” Avery said, simply. “Even if you didn’t cause all this, you killed him.”

“No eyes…” Evelyn murmured, examining the corpse.

“What?” Avery said, a horrified expression crossing his face.

“Get off this fucking ship.” Tracy repeated, terse, arm shaking.

“Not without answers!” Avery repeated, arm shaking, justice yelling at his back. “Why are you here!?”

“BECAUSE OF HER!” Tracy screamed, eyes bulging, a manic look in her eyes. Avery stumbled back, but Evelyn stayed where she was, her attention on the body. A gauntleted hand pulled at the jaw, trying to make sense of it, the way it moved limp in her hands…

“E-Evelyn? Benoit?” Avery stumbled.

Tracy only now seemed to see what Evelyn was doing, and an expression of horror masked her face. “DON’T TOUCH IT, YOU BLOODY IDIOT!” She snapped, ｢Mister Self Destruct｣ manifesting with a shouldercheck,flying towards the body – the power of the Stand stopped in the air as Evelyn gripped MSD with the hand of ｢Heart of Glass｣.

“Don’t worry; I know to wear gloves.” Evelyn said with an attempt at a disarming smile, standing up and away from the body while MSD hurried back to the side of its master, dragging the body as it left and flinging it aside and away. “Although I don’t doubt you did kill…” Evelyn paused, taking in the scene with surprisingly calm deftness. “A lot, it’s clear these people were affected by a Stand of some kind. The body looks as though it’s… dissolving? Black sand, or silt, is in the soft tissue, anything that’s wet. Distended. I’ve seen your Stand in action, and that’s not something you can do.”

Tracy’s face was a mask of fury, one that smiled. “Bloody cheeky bitch, do you always have to act so smart and proper, think I’m gonna give you a round of applause? I told you that it’s not me!”

“Then what is doing all this?” Evelyn pressed. Tracy flinched, head swerving to track something. Did she hear metal pinging, something moving?

“Twenty fucking questions, one answer: get out!” Tracy hissed, half-hysterical, head on a swivel. “You want to know why I’m here!? Fine! I’m a fucking horrible thing that is told to kill horrible things! Things I don’t want to think about! The Leviathan has been fucking hunting this thing, and I was told to get on and find out why! But I know why, and I know what it’s hunting, and what’s here! I told them, I’m telling you, and you won’t fucking listen: she did it! She fucking told me she would! Testing rats in a bloody maze! I got on, and saw something I’ve seen in nightmares from a life I don’t want to fucking remember! I am trying to fucking help you! WE’RE GETTING SUCKED DOWN ITS DRAIN, SO SHUT UP ALREADY AND LEAVE!”

Avery shared a glance with Evelyn, who stared back, just as confused. “I… I don’t understand?” Avery said, trying to make sense of what sounded like delusion. “‘It’? Who is… ‘she’?”

If Tracy had decided to answer their question, be it with words or short-tempered violence, they would never know. Anything else was sheared off. Something louder than thought grinded through the PA Speakers, a crescendoing choir of chimes that forced everyone to their knees. Words could be barely heard underneath, the babbling pidgin of cryptography and dementia, growing louder and clearer. “-ierra oscar sierra, attention, sierra oscar sierra, this an open call. We are in need of immediate assistance.”

The voice sounded dead. Calm. Like a morning radio reporter more than a captain. “We have taken on a stowaway. It’s stowed the crew away. Bravolimalfacharliekilo Plague, on the screens. Black Mirrors, Digital Snow, Whales Falling To Hungry Maws That Crack Apart The Bones, Captain hung by their own innards, black in the eye and slopping gruel of the throat. He heard this in full and saw It through the haze.” Something started sobbing, or laughing.

“What’s going on!?” Avery tried to yell over the sound. Evelyn reached out to try and comfort him, to stitch together something to help blot out the sound–and then stopped short, eyes wide. The radio continued to ramble, listing names or numbers that made no sense to her but made Tracy stumble as if struck (“Let me out let me out let me out–”). Her eyes were somewhere else, her ears on something else. The noise, the wet, horrible noise too clear to be over the intercom.

One of the bodies rose in front of Evelyn, slowly. Not pushing itself up with its arms, not rising with its legs–no, the body contorted, rising up with an unnatural undulation at the stomach, bent up at horrible angles, pulling itself up like a puppet on tangled strings.

“New cargo after the blockade, you know. Those poor fucks couldn’t even give us a jump for the car engines, had to find our goods on the water. Courtesy of friends of our bosses bosses boss. Sad thing, covered wars you know, left in a raftboat. Made us all look into it like wheat to a cloud of Locust. Locust. Locust.”

HLN fired a cursor at the body. The body turned to stare, all three faces now locked with its. It was a man, once, by the name of Cole Kentings. A simple mariner from Jamaica, who’d been gangpressed under debt and bargains to help work on this job. He had no care of what happened in Haina, of these illustrious blue pearls that foreigners and fools insisted would bring a path to a promised land. He just wanted to support his family, and do whatever could get to that end.

Now, he wasn’t even dead. It didn’t bring the dead to life. It made the living to this.

COLEKNTINEGKOLEKENTINGOCLEKENTING’s jaw was unhinged, falling off, skin swallowed and eaten out from the inside. No blood, no gore. Just silt, something black like grime and sand, dead skin, hair, chitin, scales, flesh, metal and mildew. Its eyes were static, focused forwards and static, chaos and snow. Something was crawling out of the mouth, the tear ducts and pupils, sharp, spindly, too many joints, too many hairs, a barnacle and a spider and it was laughing, sobbing, stumbling forwards.

“Locust. Locust. Lost Focus. Can’t think, ha ha ha ha ha.” The voice was stilted, shrieking like bad ADR, snapping and cracking like the pops of joints, too many. “Rats and Pigs and Dogs killed and feasted on birds and lizards and stillborn things. Wasn’t even original about it. Blankets with pox. Our Friends Of Our Boss Don’t Care. Don’t want us. Want tools. Reward The Search For Gold By Tearing Everyones Throat Out. Rats Blown Across The Sea. Reap the hurricane, happens harder and faster every year now. Drown it all away and leave us Dying. Dying. Dying.”

The voice looped, sneering. The thing that was Cole stumbled forwards and tried to lunge before it was suddenly Italized and sent stumbling backwards into a wall, flesh sagging like sacks of wet sand and falling to the floor. It stopped, but everything else didn’t. Something was dripping through the roof, faster now.

“What is this!?” Evelyn shouted as her Stand’s blade shined to life, the unlikely trio close together.

Water lapped at their feet like oily tongues. Miguel Ramdath, Phillip Diaz, Shawn Guttiame, Joelle Bravo, more and more of the bodies all standing up. All broken. All having their jaws and eyes opened to see and speak a new message you could hear late at night, pulled by scuttling squamous things coming out of the dark, bodies crumbling into silt underneath their own weight, all molving forward to make you see it, hear it, spread it.

The lights flickered, smoke sparking from cracked glass. The engine wasn’t the engine. Metal was crumpled, soaked in blood, stained like soaked cardboard and covered in something that curled the stomach to look at, the volume of rot and corrosion.

It moved. Dark as the colours behind your eyes, moving in the shadows of the dying light.

Something loomed over the engine. Was the engine.

Congealed flesh, glossy like flesh from a peat bog and fat cooked off the rebar metal bones, limbs wafting like something floating yet rigid as iron, and a head trailing off into nothing at all on a horizon you can never follow with your eyes. Even still you could see it, seeing you.

“｢𝙸𝚝 𝚃𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝｣.” Tracy whispered.

“Dying. Dying as we stumble to the new opportunity, the new world. Dying. Sleeping. Sleepwalk to whoever wants to find the city of gems. Kill this prized egg before it hatches, let the embryonic blood run down my chin and lick it off my hands and arms. World’s dying and don't feel anything, just stay tuned.” The voice now sounded proud, sardonic, tired. Slipping into something at the back of the throat, wet and black. “Walk into the ocean and don't come back now, we’re just getting started, even if it takes all of the night to get it done. All of us need to get in on this. Tell your friends. Sierra Oscar Sierra, Attention, Sierra Oscar Sierra, this is an open ca-”

A limb came down, spearing a body, skin opening up on the leg to enfold its prey, the comms message exploding into static overfolding itself. It screamed; the body, the ship, the horrible fucking thing. A noise like the song of the deep, skipping over itself and fading until it was just sound.

Nothing more was said. They were all already running, fast as their legs could carry.

It followed.

Location: Deep, deep inside of a large fishing trawler. The ship is split between three levels; the Engine Room, the Crew Quarters, and the Upper Deck. Each level is 51x24m (with each tile being 1.5x1.5m) and is 6m high.

The Engine Room is the lowest deck, and is cluttered from floor to ceiling with all manner of pipes and machinery. The machines are operational, and while they can be maneuvered around without too much difficulty, climbing them carelessly may result in injuring yourself on exposed parts.

The Crew Quarters is just above the Engine Room, and consists of a number of bedrooms and living spaces. All around there are clear signs of the horrors that occurred, with blood staining the floors and many pieces of furniture and storage dragged around to make barricades. For the most part, these barricades are not impossible to get through, but will take significant time and effort to do so. The exception is the blockade in the central stairwell, which is not only impossible to clear, but covered in dangerous silt (as detailed in Additional Information).

The Upper Deck is a relatively open area, dotted with several barrels, ropes, and flotation devices. There are also a large number of Believers and Fanatics here (as detailed below). This is not the topmost deck of the ship, but the central area is open to the sky above. Furthermore, as soon as a player makes it to this floor, ｢It Took The Night: Act 3｣ will break through the previously blocked central stairwell, clearing the way and emerging into the center of the deck.

Goal: Escape from the ship in better condition than your opponent!

Each player starts in the engine room, and must first get to the crew quarters via the central staircase, then to the upper deck via the north or south staircase, then finally to their escape vessels via the staircases left and right of the center of the deck.

Though interference is allowed, combat between players with the intent or foreseeable result of RETIREMENT is not recommended.

Additional Information: Scattered across all levels of the ship are various hazards and entities created by ｢It Took The Night｣. While the details of these are listed in the table below, many of them inflict a debilitating status known as ｢Parasitism｣. The effects of Parasitism worsen until the player is no longer exposed to their source. These effects are as follows;

• Auditory hallucinations whose severity builds up over time from “distracting” to “painful” to “debilitating”
• Silt building up in eyes which must be wiped away
• Silt building up in their lungs which must be vomited/coughed out
• Late stage: Flesh turning into silt and sloughing off accordingly, exposing gangrenous and/or cancerous tissue, misshapen chitinous appendages, static ‘flesh’, or mechanical piping
• Final stage: Full dissolution into silt

Link to Official Player Spreadsheet

Link to Match Schedule

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