Hunni’s beautiful time of feeding herself
I want to change the background of my blog to black. But thanks to the world's "strong-hearted" girls (or women who cherish a girl's heart) who love black and pink, it has not been changed. I don't want to accompany them. I'm not a social worker! But since my vibe is more BLACKPINK than Lisa's, I'll just go with black. Actually, this is my pride. You'll understand when you see me. I am, after all, your K-pop idol. Call me 'Hunni.'
Today, I’d like to talk about playing Solo Journaling TTRPG. The games I loved most were Fox Curio's Floating Bookshop, Get It at Sutlers, and Tending. Without completing the campaign, I entered Act 2 of the TTRPG world anew. I don't have an environment where I can play with GM or other players, and because I'm not very skilled, I'm going through a slow learning process.
Considering the appeal of a solo journaling game, one might think of it as a game that 'automatically generates the subconscious." I think of it as a moment to unleash the spin of my brain and the seal of my mental state in response to the given prompt. The conflict of the self goes against the basic order of life. This is part of the game's charm, but once you dive into the subgenre of solo journaling, the fun multiplies even more.
At the point of the order’s intersection, human consciousness moves as if reading a “phenomenon” of the object visible right before the eyes. In other words, it can be described as the psychology of thinking out a grand plan for how the game will unfold while, at the same time, checking the items in front of you by drawing a card. A grand plan can end up taking a detour or going a longer route because of the orders of a small individual.
I read the solo journaling game as a divine psychopathological weapon. I think we should scatter these across psychiatric hospitals around the world, force them to sit down, and make them play a solo journaling game. Then they will shout. Wow! My mental illness is getting better! I mean, I feel like I can finally know myself. While playing Koriko, that is. The following excerpt shows how deeply and thoughtfully I have diligently pursued solo journaling.
[Fox Curio's Floating Bookshop]
As the day passed, the boat finally landed in the Rust area. It was 8 p.m., Bloom's sixth evening. Moss was excited. His first venture was a success. That thought crossed his mind, and he felt proud of himself. "My journey has finally begun." That thought also means that he has come to understand his "portion as an animal." That is how he listens to the evening breeze.
Moss took a step forward onto the ground. And then he realized that fresh air was enveloping him. It was a truly beautiful night! He walked to the campaign office, did some window shopping, and wondered what kind of food to buy. This is a wandering nomadic village, and I wanted to feel the exotic scenery of it. And truly, this town was more beautiful than I had expected! In one section, there were 5 to 7 different types of tents from different continents lined up! The campfire looked warm and cozy! Some animals are gathered there, chatting happily. Moss wanted to get closer, but his timid self resisted. I was just watching them from a few meters away. Then suddenly, an animal shouted at Moss.
"Hey, friend! Come here and sit! "
Moss saw an opportunity and quickly made his way there. Then it greeted the other animals. They move their hips to make room for Moss to sit. Moss said he was grateful for their kindness.
"Hello, sir! How old are you? I am 2 years old in rabbit years." The creature’s warm words melted Moss’s tension. He gathered his courage and spoke.
"Young lady. You are a warm-hearted girl. I am an 8-year-old weasel." "Wow. You've gotten old, sir! Thank you for saying it's warm! " "Haha.."
Moss was a little surprised by this conversation, but the little rabbit girl did not mean it as a way of being mean to him. She was simply stating her age. But the young rabbit girl's mother was also surprised by her words and felt sorry for him. Moss said it was fine. The baby clay girl's next words are polite. All the animals around are laughing at that cute mistake.
"Why did you come here at night? No shops have opened, have they" "Haha.. it's just a trip, Sir." "Oh. In my opinion, you are the biggest young male animal." "Thank you" "Try this."
What he chose was roasted chestnuts. They said they would store the night in a backpack in the cold weather, then pitch a tent and settle down to cook together once they had flocked. Today is the day. They advised Morse to bite the chestnuts and test the contents. It was really crispy and creamy! Sitting around the campfire with the warm villagers, I ate something and reflected. He said that whenever he went out on a boat, he would be sure to record this in his diary.
At that moment, Moss recalled something. He asked them to wait for a moment and took the Polaroid camera out of his arms. Then he asked them to take a photo together.
"Of course, we have to take a picture together" "Come closer" "Haha, you're a young male animal that knows romance."
Moss tilted the campfire slightly toward the center and took a photo with them. Then he said his goodbyes to them and returned to the ship.
Back at the ship, lying in bed, Moss recalled what had happened that evening. Warm people and a warm fire. And a warm, delicious chestnuts. I thought that if all of this had happened at Capital, this would have been impossible. After thinking about it and making his pillow soft and fluffy, he thought he would be able to sleep better.
[Get it at Sutlers]
Race shouted at Marshall.
"Marshall, please come this way."
Race said he would make a bet with Marshall and asked Marshall to referee. Far from scolding Race, Marshall, who didn't want to work, was holding a deck of cards to the fish. That game was simply blackjack.
I was going to play poker, but since I couldn't read the fish's expressions, they suggested it. The fish said it had thought deeply and would understand who humans and you were. The game began. The fish’s fin movements were unusual.
Marshall whispered that the race would be lost and laughed at him. And then the race got mixed up. The card wasn't smooth because he was nervous from the gesture. Marshall dealt cards to them at a low table, and they began discarding them one by one. Surprisingly, the winner was a race. Either way, the race was a good bet, but he felt good about winning.
"Alright. I'll tell you my secret." The fish said. "Split my belly" The fish said...
They stopped speaking in surprise and told the fish, "You were a product of our fish farm." But that fish was stubborn. Respecting the fish’s fateful humility, they carefully cut its belly. The fish had gears in its belly!
You saw that, right? This is my secret. I have a big secret from you. I'm actually an automaton. My skin is state-of-the-art, designed by a Hollywood special dressing team."
"Hey, where is their phone number. Your skin is really beautiful." Marshall marveled at the fish when he touched its smooth, silky skin.
"Shall I tell you what's scary? I'm not the only fish that has this body." "Who on earth is doing this?" "Hahaha, now that I’ve told you the secret, I’m quitting the industry."
The fish said that and then stopped. On the third day of work, there were always fish. The fish began singing a requiem for the automaton in the shape of a fish. Which fish was afraid of having a spy fish. There was also a public opinion that the artificial fish had tripped.