I commissioned a scene from my fic “Oh How We Pity the Dead” from the amazing madly wildly talented ZeoRandy, and they absolutely KILLED IT! Please show them all the love!
@ anybody who’s started getting interested in slay the princess after watching Markiplier play it: trust me. trust me on this. stop watching his playthrough. don’t even think about his playthrough. ideally wait for the pristine cut to be released (completely free expansion to the game.) but if you’re impatient it’s complete as-is. go play it yourself. as blind as possible. trust me. TRUST ME. the game is SO MUCH BETTER when you’re the one behind the wheel, making all the choices, and you don’t know what will happen when you make them.
it’s a very, very, very good game, if you can’t afford it the devs are perfectly fine with piracy, there are two of them, they have plenty of the money they need to support their future projects, you can always buy the game later or official slay the princess merch to support them financially, i’m telling you this for your own good, trust me, you want to play it yourself and you want to avoid Markiplier’s playthroughs until you do.
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yeah! pirate it!
or buy it for 20% off this weekend
or pirate it!
the important thing is that your first experience of Slay the Princess is *yours.* we’ve written so many branching scenarios, and we want your first playthrough to be a reflection of *you*
on one hand I get why people talk about the vanity of the instagram age, but on the other one time St. Ignatius of Loyola got his leg shattered in battle and discovered upon recovery that he could no longer wear his favorite tight leather boots due to the way his leg had set and so decided to rebreak his leg without anesthesia because he was that determined to wear his fashionable boots again…what i’m trying to say is that this man might have existed before instagram, but at heart he was an influencer
an egregious oversight on my part: he ended up getting extremely ill for obvious reasons and was given a 50% chance of surviving the night, survived the night and was stuck in bed for ten months of recovery, was bored out of his mind, asked for courtly romances about dashing knights rescuing ladies so he could daydream about that #knightlife (yes, this was his explicit reason), got books on the life of Christ and the saints instead because they were all his sister could find, decided to daydream about doing saintly heroic things instead because those were the books he had although he still dabbled in the occasional rescue-my-hot-imaginary-soulmate-from-danger daydream, and, as you may have guessed, since he was not a man who did things halfway, ended up convincing himself that he needed to become a saint and so by the time he’d recovered, he had rejected all finery, left his castle on a mule, gave his clothes to the poor and wore a potato sack instead, upon which he proceeded to start one of the most famous and influential religious orders in world history.
Long story short: some peasant got those sweetass tight-fitting leather boots.
Do you ever like physically feel yourself pass your mental breaking point and then all you can think is “oh these next few days are going to be interesting”
Like you’re just sitting there silently and on the outside you seem fine and gathered but in your head you’re like “oh this is gonna hit me like a train any second”
Glad to see all 19k of us are clearly fine and okay
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