PRINCESS MAKER 1.5: WILD CITY
[ When you insert the key and open the door, you'll find yourself stepping outside your home and into the bustling streets of the city slums. You walk down the street, only to hear the sound of a scream—
You rush to the scene: a young woman lies prone on the ground, having just been hit by a carriage. Her tattered clothes indicate her poverty; upon noticing such tatters, the driver simply moves on, and you know this to simply be a fact of this cruel life. But, you can hear something else—besides the mother's labored breathing, you can hear the sound of an infant. You roll her body over and lo—still cradled protectively is a young girl, though she will not be protected for much longer.
. . . Not unless you can help it. None else will—in these slums no one could care less if another child's life is lost—but you can do something about this. With nothing else on your mind, you pick the girl up, carrying her back to your humble abode.
Inside your apartment is a single living space without any doors—you can hear noises of the bustling life outside, as well as other people beyond the thin walls. The girl continues to cry, as though knowing to mourn, and you rock her back and forth, singing softly to your new charge to soothe her to sleep. ]
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[ Slowly, the scene changes, fading in and out with various silent scenes—the baby cries, and in turn, the upstairs tenants knock at your ceiling; she finds her first words in your song, voice as fragile as the windpipe that carries the sound; a little toddler, she finds an injured bird and carries it home with her; you disagree on the bird's tenancy, and she storms out to run away for a little while as you regret; she returns sullenly with a secret nest built in the alley and ignores everything you say; then the wall becomes opaque. ]
[ In the corner of the room, a young girl the age of 11 crouches, looking away from you. She hums your song to the bird on her finger, which chirps along with her.
You wish you could have done better for your baby girl. But, this is what you love to do and maybe you'll get a gig that pays well enough that you two can move out of this shithole—hopefully. You tried your best to rear her, but with how infrequent you're in the house, working odd jobs in the day and performing at the pub at night, you're not sure anymore. You know she is capable of anything if she puts her mind to it—even becoming a princess—but you also know it's not easy to become a princess, and she's horribly equipped for any of that. Then again, if anything your little tyke is tough, and if anyone could be a rags-to-riches princess, it would be her. Fortunately, when she goes to the Lost Continent, she won't be alone: you, as her longtime caretaker (her one and only parent, if you may be so bold), may accompany her to her new school. You'll be her ally, her support, her greatest weapon; you'll be the one who determines her success . . . or her failure. ]
[ But just how were you able to be sponsored in the first place? . . . The story's rather funny, really.
One day an old man arrived at your house, seeking shelter. You let him stay the night, of course, and normally that would have been that, right? Evidently he was a tribesman from the vast deserts of New Senteca - you couldn't imagine what he was doing all the way out here, and he wasn't really willing to tell you. Perhaps running from the undead? It couldn't possibly be easy living out there, not at all.
But you always had heard those tribes perform strange acts of witchcraft, and while you never really paid it much mind, what happened the morning he left made you start to think.
He thanked you for your time, shook your hands, and then crouched down to pat your daughter's head, staring deep into her eyes. After a tense, awkward moment, he proclaimed:
"This one is the one who will receive the gift of the King of the Sea, she who's life was cut short, she who brings the rain, she who saw that we will one day be granted safe passage across stormy waters to a better life! The twice-dead, blind spirit of the storms, Dice the Short-Lived!"
And then he left without another word.
The next day, you received a letter in the mail.
Somehow, your daughter would be sent to the Lost Continent, for a chance to lead the rebuilding. And as strange as the circumstances seemed, you were not about to squander this chance for her. After all, it's fate. . .isn't it? ]
You rush to the scene: a young woman lies prone on the ground, having just been hit by a carriage. Her tattered clothes indicate her poverty; upon noticing such tatters, the driver simply moves on, and you know this to simply be a fact of this cruel life. But, you can hear something else—besides the mother's labored breathing, you can hear the sound of an infant. You roll her body over and lo—still cradled protectively is a young girl, though she will not be protected for much longer.
. . . Not unless you can help it. None else will—in these slums no one could care less if another child's life is lost—but you can do something about this. With nothing else on your mind, you pick the girl up, carrying her back to your humble abode.
Inside your apartment is a single living space without any doors—you can hear noises of the bustling life outside, as well as other people beyond the thin walls. The girl continues to cry, as though knowing to mourn, and you rock her back and forth, singing softly to your new charge to soothe her to sleep. ]
-
[ Slowly, the scene changes, fading in and out with various silent scenes—the baby cries, and in turn, the upstairs tenants knock at your ceiling; she finds her first words in your song, voice as fragile as the windpipe that carries the sound; a little toddler, she finds an injured bird and carries it home with her; you disagree on the bird's tenancy, and she storms out to run away for a little while as you regret; she returns sullenly with a secret nest built in the alley and ignores everything you say; then the wall becomes opaque. ]
[ In the corner of the room, a young girl the age of 11 crouches, looking away from you. She hums your song to the bird on her finger, which chirps along with her.
You wish you could have done better for your baby girl. But, this is what you love to do and maybe you'll get a gig that pays well enough that you two can move out of this shithole—hopefully. You tried your best to rear her, but with how infrequent you're in the house, working odd jobs in the day and performing at the pub at night, you're not sure anymore. You know she is capable of anything if she puts her mind to it—even becoming a princess—but you also know it's not easy to become a princess, and she's horribly equipped for any of that. Then again, if anything your little tyke is tough, and if anyone could be a rags-to-riches princess, it would be her. Fortunately, when she goes to the Lost Continent, she won't be alone: you, as her longtime caretaker (her one and only parent, if you may be so bold), may accompany her to her new school. You'll be her ally, her support, her greatest weapon; you'll be the one who determines her success . . . or her failure. ]
[ But just how were you able to be sponsored in the first place? . . . The story's rather funny, really.
One day an old man arrived at your house, seeking shelter. You let him stay the night, of course, and normally that would have been that, right? Evidently he was a tribesman from the vast deserts of New Senteca - you couldn't imagine what he was doing all the way out here, and he wasn't really willing to tell you. Perhaps running from the undead? It couldn't possibly be easy living out there, not at all.
But you always had heard those tribes perform strange acts of witchcraft, and while you never really paid it much mind, what happened the morning he left made you start to think.
He thanked you for your time, shook your hands, and then crouched down to pat your daughter's head, staring deep into her eyes. After a tense, awkward moment, he proclaimed:
"This one is the one who will receive the gift of the King of the Sea, she who's life was cut short, she who brings the rain, she who saw that we will one day be granted safe passage across stormy waters to a better life! The twice-dead, blind spirit of the storms, Dice the Short-Lived!"
And then he left without another word.
The next day, you received a letter in the mail.
Somehow, your daughter would be sent to the Lost Continent, for a chance to lead the rebuilding. And as strange as the circumstances seemed, you were not about to squander this chance for her. After all, it's fate. . .isn't it? ]

ROUND 0
Rebellious temperament.
-3 charm.
-3 intelligence.
+10 diligence.
Moral compass: Neutral.
CHILD'S NAME?
Re: CHILD'S NAME?
ROUND 1 CLASSES
CURRENT STATS
-3 charm.
-3 intelligence.
+10 diligence.
Moral compass: Neutral.
DECISION
You may choose from Culture class, Martial Arts class, and Math & Science class. If you choose to give her free time, please note what that free time will be dedicated to.
You have 48 classes to schedule for. If you'd like, you may simply note "evenly divided" for 16 classes in each category, or note 50% X class and 50% Y class, etc.
If you note "evenly divided between all classes and free time", that will be taken as 15 classes each/3 sessions of free time.
Re: DECISION
Free time will be used to further training with Carrie's dog, and to allow her time to relax away from the bullying she's been subjected to. She'll be allowed to choose how to spend her days, with supervision from one of Wild City's members for her own safety. ]
RESULT
DISCUSSION
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Ahhhh.
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ROUND 1 DILEMMAS
CLASS DILEMMA
The two most prestigious girls in the class are two nobles - one with such a sponsor and one without a sponsor at all - nonetheless, both are of high standing. Lesser in ranking are the technical nobles—girls from knight families with no prestige beyond the battlefield, and therefore shoddy or downright suspicious sponsors as well, except the one without a sponsor at all. Then there are the most pitiable degenerates, even amongst all these other degenerate philanthropy projects: commoner girls, one of whom has a sponsor that doesn't even seem to actually exist.
Not even halfway through the semester do you enter the classroom to see that the place is absolutely destroyed. The desks have been turned over, the chalkboards have been broken, the windows have been smashed, the doors have been split in two . . . and at the center of the wreckage is a bloody, mangled corpse, so thoroughly destroyed it's hardly even recognizable anymore.
Hardly surprising something like this would happen in this class. At least, that's what everyone is saying.
You're not certain who did it, but there are rumors that your daughter, apparently wielding witchcraft, is responsible. In fact, a couple girls would say that they witnessed her and some other shadowy figures, and one has threatened to have the girl deported.
That's definitely not true, though? How would your daughter even have learned witchcraft?
What do you do about this?
DECISION
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RESULT
DISCUSSION
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!!!
Re: !!!
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RESPONSE
!!!
PERSONAL DILEMMA
Eventually you sit her down and have a talk. She cries, and lets you know that a group of the more well-off students have been bullying her. Breaking her things, pushing her and pulling her hair, calling her names in front of everybody and getting everyone to laugh at her - things like that. But she doesn't know what to do, because...won't things just get worse if she doesn't just stay quiet and let it happen? What if they get her kicked out? She shouldn't even be here in the first place...right? She's not as good as the rest of them.
What do you do about this?
DECISION
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RESULT
DISCUSSION
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ROUND 2 CLASSES
CURRENT STATS
+12 charm.
+50 intelligence.
+89 diligence.
Moral compass: Neutral.
DECISION
You may choose from Culture class, Martial Arts class, and Math & Science class. If you choose to give her free time, please note what that free time will be dedicated to.
You have 48 classes to schedule for. If you'd like, you may simply note "evenly divided" for 16 classes in each category, or note 50% X class and 50% Y class, etc.
Re: DECISION
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DISCUSSION
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ROUND 2 DILEMMAS
CLASS DILEMMA
. . . Worse yet, it seems there was evidence found in the n☆ble's locker: a pipe caked with blood, used to bludgeon the victim. There's also a strange book of arcane magic found in the same place.
Like this, the n☆ble will have her sponsorship revoked. More than that, because you're all associated with her in this class, especially due to several girls with their words of comfort and attempts to bond and tea parties . . . well . . .
One is accused of assisting the n☆ble, at least, but there are whispers of more foul play involved. There are rumors that a certain FAMiLY was bribing people, as well . . .
Furthermore, it seems the commoner was really a witch after all—she seems to have some sort of magical dog, which intimidates everyone . . . and, she's withdrawn enough that she doesn't interact with anyone besides going to class, where she bring her dog. What is truth, here?
What, if anything, do you do?
DECISION
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FINAL RESULT
DISCUSSION
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Letter To LiliS
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Letter to Zrael
!!!
!!!
PERSONAL DILEMMA
...
Tail? Oh. She has a tail now. And dog ears.
Huh.
Apparently they just grew on her halfway through the school day? And she tried to hide it, but one of the noble kids saw one of her ears and pulled on it and called her a witch and told her they were going to tell the teachers she's a murdering witch who needs to be burned at the stake and
so
she's home now. And in a panic.
She can't really go back to school like this, can she...?
What...do you do about this?
DECISION
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RESULT
DISCUSSION
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ROUND 3 DILEMMAS
FINAL DILEMMA