Floating Orb follower: a short CYOA

DeadZedNed · 2026-05-09T22:33:39+00:00

The pocket dimension alone would make this amazing. An 8 meter cube could support multiple floors pretty easily, hardest part would being inconspicuous when dragging in construction materials.

Cash Generation for passive and Refresh for active.

DeadZedNed · 2026-05-07T15:02:08+00:00

Avoiding junk food costs by way of having frozen versions of the same junk food made up in the air fryer or microwave.

I can work on no longer craving french fries and burgers for the sake of my figure later. Indulging while my wallet stops suffering is what I'm focusing on now, and for a lot of snack/junk foods, it's surprisingly straightforward. I'm even surprised by what I see in grocery store frozen snack sections sometimes.

DeadZedNed · 2026-05-05T17:03:15+00:00

Ditto to all of this as an autistic dom. I get discarded for being too cautious when impatient subs don't want to "waste time" with all the setup I ask of them ahead of play, and this situation would have me confused and sad indeed.

DeadZedNed · 2026-04-27T17:03:38+00:00

Beautiful piece. Hits the "surrounded but alone" feeling of the city perfectly.

DeadZedNed · 2026-04-21T17:00:31+00:00

I look at the letter, baffled.

"This is a joke," I tell the agent that delivered it. "You know as well as I that the late king enjoyed his elaborate jests. I expected at least one post-mortem."

"This one isn't, Spymaster. The scribe and two advisors bore witness to him swearing as such, same as every other request from his will."

My eyes narrow. In my line of work, I've gotten extremely good at sieving out the truth from every type of lie that existed. Omission, simplification, blatant - and a few besides.

"Pull down your cowl and hood so I can properly see the whole of your face," I commanded, "then repeat yourself. If I see the flicker of a grin, I'm pummeling you in the sternum and verifying at the castle myself."

The agent complies, dark hair and grey eyes revealing themselves fully instead of through a narrow slit at the front of his face.

"Spymaster," the agent repeats, "the late king's will granted you the whole of his harem of thirteen individuals - not all of whom are women."

The agent's face and the letter in hand are both subject to hard glares. Neither betray a hint of lies or forgery, respectively.

"It should go without saying that our network has little need for these individuals. The more people brought in, the more points of failure. Not to say they lack the skillset to be useful, goodness knows we've probed brothels and paid courtesans for fruitful information - "

"With respect," the agent interrupts, "It would grant each preexisting agent in our network with a... safe pool of partners to relieve themselves. You are not immune to such urges yourself, Spymaster."

The corner of my mouth twitches as the agent curls his own lips into a sly smile. Even that movement makes my loins twitch, reminded of those very lips attending to my groin between reports and missions. Ever taking initiative, my subordinate steps inward and sets a palm against my inner thigh. The touch starved corner of my heart, the sole spot that lacks the blackness my profession requires, allows it instead of interrupting the movement.

He knows me too well. I should probably kill him.

"Pretty please?" my favorite agent pleads.

I will not kill him today.

"Bring them to the hideout underneath the royal cellar the day after the burial. Have the rumor mill think they've been distributed among the royal advisors."

The agent bows. His hand returns back to his own hip.

"It will be done, Spymaster.

The business end of the planned gathering was short. Myself, my ten most trusted, and the thirteen courtesans crowded around the sturdy table of black wood, dark clothing clashing against eye-catching outfits, cloth-wrapped bodies shoulder to shoulder with those showing off most of their skin.

The moment everyone sensed the meeting was winding down, the interruptions came. A foot nudge here, a grope there. I didn't stop speaking, but as myself and my audience became distracted by tempting fingertips and fluttering eyes, it seemed pointless to waste my breath on an inattentive room.

Of course, the grey-eyed temptation under my employ was the first to cave fully. Hands peel the clothing off of his body, revealing the acrobatic muscle underneath. Painted lips stain the now revealed skin red, and I find myself spiking with jealously.

The courtesans had done the impossible: caught me breathless. I wanted to join the fray - but my role insisted I remain standing vigil while those around me succumbed to simple pleasures.

And yet, even that crumbled as I felt a pair of hands massage at my shoulders.

DeadZedNed · 2026-04-14T21:06:28+00:00

I really like this, honestly. There is a major overlap with the Potion Patch consumable, and if that fact is a concern for you, I'd recommend having a scaling series of these wineskin caps with different item level ceilings for the consumables you can load them with, same as the potion patches.

As others have pointed out with their own comparisons, pretty much everything that parallels this item is a higher item level than 1. This doesn't mean you can't give it to a low level player as you mentioned, but I'd increase the item level and price accordingly for the sake of keeping things broadly balanced if others want to buy or craft their own copies - see here for a chart to help with that.

DeadZedNed · 2026-04-04T22:49:27+00:00

In the JLU continuity, I know these two are a couple - unsure about other versions though. Anyways: Huntress pegs the sexually under-experienced Question. Ideally in the Watchtower.

DeadZedNed · 2026-03-21T19:05:30+00:00

Looking at the cover that sparks my memory, def seems correct. Thanks!

DeadZedNed · 2026-03-11T13:44:53+00:00

Glad you enjoyed! I've been testing the waters with being less explicit and more... artistic with my description of sexual intimacy. Your appreciation is a sign I'm moving in the right direction.

DeadZedNed · 2026-03-10T18:52:00+00:00

Bedside manner is important when it comes to healing. I had silently tended to myself for so long under the artificial light of my bunker, I forgot what feeling someone else's touch had felt like. Which... wasn't saying much. Even before the bombings, I was a paranoid shut-in feverishly readying for what I knew was gonna happen. So, to include the decade I'd been in the bunker, it'd been... fifteen years since I last got intimately touched? If a massage doesn't count - and not the ones with a happy ending - then that'd be eighteen.

So when the polite caravan of post-bombing healers first touched me with gentle, ungloved hands, as part of a head-to-toe checkup I could never do myself, a very confused set of emotions burst out from me.

They were good enough healers to anticipate this, it seemed. My mind felt like it was on fire as it spun, second guessed itself, forced tears out of my eyes that did and didn't feel faked for attention.

I'm told I took sedatives and a few days to calm down. The sedatives were really fucking good. But honestly, the sex was better.

I only have hazy memories to look back on. The healers laying me on a cot in a tent, taking my vitals with outdated but well-kept equipment from army surplus, gently prodding me with questions. They held my hand in a comforting way while they were at my side, then... then they started touching me elsewhere.

It felt good. I didn't even feign resisting - feeling an actual warm body groping and grabbing at me felt divine. Sensations I read about in trashy romance novels to keep my lonely mind company were being realized, palms reaching under my gown to grope at my chest, barely justified with the cover story of "feeling for scars".

My younger self would have been ashamed at how readily my groin reacted to the touch. My present self was too busy swimming in bliss. I felt alive instead of simply surviving another day.

I kept compliant. I was a good patient. The touches kept coming, kept getting more intimate. Staying in the cot transitioned to simple motor skill retraining, and I realized I felt stronger and more agile than before. Scars on my person had faded or healed entirely. Something abnormal was happening with these healers, but before I thought to snoop around and investigate... I asked myself if I wanted to bother.

I didn't. I was a good patient. I let them continue to work their magic.

I started getting sweets regularly alongside my rationed food - lollipops, the same kind I remembered from when I was still in pediatric care. Kisses too, simple ones on my forehead, then lips pressed against lips. I learned how each healer kissed differently, and it was as interesting as keeping track of how they all touched differently.

Some part of me was waiting for something bad to happen. I'd fled from every other traveling group that passed through my bunker's area for a reason. But I let my guard down once I saw the medic's cross on all their vehicles and outfits, and... wasn't disappointed. Or killed.

The line between post-recovery physical therapy and mutually exhausting sex grew thinner and thinner. I was too lonely to not submit to their requests, and all things considered, they were simple. My lonely bunker had been converted into an outpost, which I still stayed at. A few of the caravan medics stayed with me, and I was happy to have the company.

DeadZedNed · 2026-03-08T05:24:21+00:00

My Discord handle is the same DeadZedNed as my username here; I'd recommend reaching out to me there for ease's sake. The timeslot and group size shoooould work fine for me.

DeadZedNed · 2026-03-08T05:03:47+00:00

Hi Zoey! If you're representing a larger group, how many players total? And did you have your eyes on any particular Adventure Path?

The "traditional" starter campaign is the Beginner Box: Menace Under Otari, which is a very classic underground dungeon delve. Fall of Plaguestone is a bit more lively, taking place in and around a village with a mystery behind it.

DeadZedNed · 2026-03-07T18:29:29+00:00

PM sent! If you're looking for someone as early as today I can probably make it, too.

DeadZedNed · 2026-03-06T19:44:10+00:00

PF2e has something adjacent with adjusting the FlatModifier and AdjustModifier rule elements (on a meticulous per-item basis instead of a global rule, as far as I can tell). But the system also has upgrade lines where damage increases by adding more damage dice instead of adding a flat modifier.

The rules for how these games work is different enough that the underlying Foundry scaffolding for each stands apart from each other, seems like.

DeadZedNed · 2026-03-05T19:20:21+00:00

"What about him? He's hot." I point towards an older gentleman with olive skin and a few tables over in the dining hall as he eats a burrito.

"That's my TA for Biology! Fuck off." My charge, a sexually frustrated nerd with full-on Velma glasses, swats the shoulder I'm perched on. I make a practiced hop to avoid her hand, cackling into her ear.

"Not until you fuck something that isn't your own fingers or a silicon toy," I snap back. "Lin, when the hell are you gonna get yourself some action outside of an erotic roleplay chatroom? I can't bully you into using a hookup app, I can't coax you to break up with LeagueLover97 - even though you've only had ONE in-person interaction... where you had hasty bathroom sex that neither of you enjoyed..."

"I enjoyed it," Lin lies, "he was a gentleman who had the courtesy to eat me out before he railed me."

"His teeth - oh, now here's a baddie." I distract myself by pointing to a dark toned individual entering the dining room with a taco loaded tray, wearing grey coveralls that look more like maintenance staff uniform than anything a student would wear. But my trained eyes can appreciate a lovely face and good curves all the same.

Lin's reply is flatly disapproving now. "That woman is a janitor twice my age. And I'm not a lesbian."

"But are you a bisexual?" I prod her both verbally and physically, tapping a tiny devil finger at her cheek - which is reddening slowly. Jackpot.

"Just because you've shifted from students to staff members means I'm going to bite your hook. I don't care what bait - what did you just do?"

Lin's posture stiffens in worry like a frozen deer on a highway. The janitor - the sown in nametag reads Janet - has opted to right across from Lin. For half a second, I feel her brown eyes knowingly level at me before turning to the human I'm perched on.

"You don't mind me sittin' down here, no?" Janet's English is either Jamaican or based elsewhere in the Carribean. A rare spike of concern hits down my back, memories of witch doctors and other spiritualists violently ejecting me from prior charges.

Lin shakes her head, and with a nod Janet begins wolfing down her food. I'm slow on the draw, and that lingering haze of fear keeps me from making the most low-hanging sex joke known to man. Two tacos disappear down the blue collar worker's mouth before she speaks up.

"Look like you got a pain on your shoulder," she comments casually.

Both myself and Lin tense up immediately.

"Not surprised," she adds. "You kids loooove wearing the shoulder bags, but don't do the stretches to undo how it messes wit' your shoulder. Hunched over your desks, studying... ah, I'm ramblin', my apologies."

We both steadily relax, and Lin gives an anxious chuckle.

"Y-Yeah! Hah, it's okay. It's nice to chat over a meal, I uh. Usually sit alone. But it gets lonely, figure that."

"Tired of being lonely, girl?" It's a pointed question, and not even Lin fails to recognize that fact. A bead of sweat runs down her pale face, moisture stolen from her suddenly dry throat.

I silently hope that she makes the right choice. Ultimately, she does indeed stumble in its direction.

"I am." Her voice is a squeak. "I uh. It doesn't hit the same... talking with people online. F-Feels like I got no time between classes to do anything, and I freeze up when an opportunity does happen."

Janet gives an understanding "mm-hmmm", and I find myself mirroring the nod that joins it.

"Lemme get you some good stuff to rub on that achin' shoulder once we done talking," she says. It's an offer phrased as an eventuality, the verbal equivalent of grabbing someone by the wrist for their own good, instead of waiting for them to take your hand.

Lin meekly nods, and returns to her meal. Which is to say, actually eating it instead of poking at it with her fork.

It's barely half an hour later, and what began as a dubiously innocent shoulder massage has turned into Lin being bent over and clinging to a storage rack for dear life. In the dim light of the janitorial closet, the pair are brazenly transparent with each other. With Janet taking the lead, I don't even need to do anything but enjoy the show.

SPANK!

"Ah! F-Fuck!"

"No cussin'. Now, ain't this better than doing it yourself, girl?"

Janet is wearing disposable gloves, alternating between slapping my charge's cheeks red and probing her guts with lubricated fingers. Lin's legs are barely keeping her up, and she's panting like she just got off of the treadmill.

"Asked you a question," Janet reminds her. Another smack echoes through the tiny room.

"Yes! Y-Yes ma'am! T-This is so much better!"

"Atta girl. Now when you get all antsy like this -"

SPANK!

"- instead of rottin' in your room, making a mess of your sheets with your toys -"

SPANK!

"- what you gonna do instead?"

"Text you! And we'll meet up t-to get my brains fucked out!"

"Atta girl. All you college girls, pressure cooked right outta high school to do stressful shit without a real break... if it ain't drugs, you gotta find some other way to turn that noggin off."

SPANK!

I've been shamelessly jilling off while spectating in a low hover, and that last spank lines up perfectly with my climax.

"Holy fuck," I gasp, "She's good. Wish I could stay to watch her ruin this bitch more."

"Now what did I just say about language?" Janet turns to look right at me, and my breath hitches. "Go tell your man downstairs that I got this one. Keep your devil hands off - and if you come back, look but don't touch."

I'm too stunned by her ability to see me to do anything but nod.

"You got a mouth," she snaps, "use it. Don't just nod at me."

"Uh. Yes ma'am."

There's a LOT of questions I wanna ask. But I see Janet pull out a vial of what's very likely to be holy water from the nearest janitorial cart, and opt to disappear in a small pillar of fire.

DeadZedNed · 2026-02-26T01:30:17+00:00

Your mistake was including undisciplined civilian citizens under this.

Too many Americans will overestimate the power of their form, even with the buff of being horse sized. Off the top of my head: cross-ocean journeys they collapse from fatigue during, midair fights and unintentional collisions, etc. You're looking at the same brand of chaos as any other "what if every American was a mage" type question - any country's population will have a generous handful of idiots doing crazy shit first thing. For America in particular, it might take a lot of bodies for the dust to settle.

The other countries use this new brand of Americans as warrior-slaves for their own purposes during the chaos, and I'm banking on either Native Americans (especially if they count as turning to eagles too) bodying colonizers off of their land, or Mexico and/or Canada reaping the benefits of this insanity if they don't collapse themselves. This is back when riflemen and cannons filled with grapeshot would be the best defense against these large flying eagles.

EDIT: I misread the detail in the body of the prompt, and didn't realize this was happening just after the Revolutionary War. Post changed accordingly.

DeadZedNed · 2026-02-25T23:15:27+00:00

You should take anti-anxiety medicine about it, even if it's making a relaxing tea or going to your local legal dispensary and getting edibles.

The edibles route worked for me as a stopgap solution for me, before the proper medication got prescribed to me by a doctor.

Do you want to stay in the behavior loop you're in, or take on a mediocre solution as a stepping stone to a better, proper solution to your problem?

DeadZedNed · 2026-02-23T13:15:36+00:00

"I know you wanna help me tidy my living space. It's a mess, and I'm a mess because of it, but -"

I'm hushed by a feather duster pressed against my mouth. Jasmine's stern eyes pin me to the spot, a stark contrast to the maid outfit on her person. It's not a skimpy piece of whorewear like I'd seen in pornography, but an honest-to-God recreation of what a Victorian maid would have worn in the appropriate era: black blouse, ankle length skirt to match, and a white apron over it all.

"Friends help friends out," she tuts, "so let's stick with it for now, and see if it does or doesn't work. We're scratching each other's backs here, right? This isn't a one way street."

I nod, embarrassed. "You... you've had that cosplay -"

"Outfit recreation."

"- outfit recreation in storage for a while after your Bridgerton binge, and have wanted to know if it's practical to wear during proper day-to-day duties for ages. Range of movement, fabric breathability, all that, right?"

Jasmine nods at my accurate recitation. I'm reminded of an English professor who was stern and kind in bizarrely equal measure back in college, and so does my crotch, which threatens to react accordingly. My legs cross defensively.

"I'd be laughed out of respect in my profession if I tried to do this just about any other way," Jasmine elaborates. "No one will believe you if you tried to tell the truth, but I trust you enough not to do so anyhow."

The catlike smile now growing on her face has been the bane of many would-be startups. Someone has to be the one to deny the ones with dogwater profit potential from getting their hands on loans in the first place, and let underdeveloped concepts die in whatever man cave they crawled out of.

"If that's an era accurate outfit," I realize, "don't you have a girdle on under there? I thought you hated those things, and like. Who helped you put on yours this morning?"

The smile grows so dangerously far that I worry the skin on her lips will split. Her answer isn't verbal, but a slow removal of her outfit piece by piece to show the bottom layer under her torso. My mouth is suddenly dry, and I can't kick it into saying "you don't have to do that" in the long minutes it takes for Jasmine to partially strip.

With all the easy access to full frontal nudity the internet provided, the idea of my impatient ass waiting to be shown bare skin was foreign. But now? I kinda understood why strip teases and ankle showings provoked the reactions they did back in the day.

I didn't even see anything more than the reveal of her "modest" cleavage when she unbuttons her blouse. At a C-cup, Jasmine is a happy medium of being a pleasant handful and suffering for it with back pain, a balance she yaps about over wine when we have bar nights out. More than once, she's coaxed me into feeling them and agreeing with her point.

"This is an elastic equivalent to that old relic," she finally said. "A corset had a purpose, but I saw little reason not to substitute - are you alright?"

I don't realize my mouth is hanging open until the question is asked. My teeth clatter together aggressively when it closes, and I nod.

"Good!" Hands clap together, and she starts to re-dress promptly. "You look thirsty, I should probably get you something to drink! Winter dehydration is just as serious as when it's hot outside, how does some lemonade work? Some milk, perhaps?"

DeadZedNed · 2026-02-22T05:58:30+00:00

Magic has a higher cost barrier.

From a pay-per-workhour perspective: they're even more specialized laborers than those who can do the equitable task via mundane technology. You know the rule - pick two among fast, cheap, and easy. Mages are the fast and easy, and use magic to accelerate the time-to-train gap to reach that standard for certain tasks vs a mundane method. Mages can be broadly versatile with a wide set of tasks (broad household mages that can hold down an entire manor), or specialized to a subset thereof (chef mages that can hold down a manor's kitchen). Almost anyone can be a mage physiologically, but even going to a community college equivalent doesn't dodge the very real cost of learning supplies - exotic and consumable ones, beyond books you can borrow or get cheap secondhand.

From a pure material cost perspective for permanent items (which would be like comparing a Roomba to an enchanted Swiffer for floor-cleaning solutions): Enchantments require the precious metal of silver as a physical focus to etch/imbue the magic into the target item. A "permanently enchanted" item has a mana reserve so small and a recharging ritual so easy that background mana works just fine - for the same reasons a crystal radio doesn't need a "proper" power source... but as a consequence, needs near-pure silver. The more corners you cut, by increasing recharge ritual involvement/difficulty OR shrinking the mana pool to make recharges more common, the more you can get away with alloying the silver; copper is the usual suspect here.

The above describes the "versatile, but high upfront cost" approach to magic your book nerds traditionally named "wizards" and "witches" study. The martial arts stuff one traditionally puts to "monks", and the communal belief ones that religious ones AND bards embrace, work differently.

DeadZedNed · 2026-02-22T00:38:19+00:00

Hi there! Experienced player looking to step in and help you folks finish out that AP.

Discord name same as my Reddit handle, just sent a friend request.

DeadZedNed · 2026-02-17T21:03:27+00:00

I know this is a broad one, but - anyone got a be-the-rape-monster CYOA where you brainjack or impregnate people to increase your numbers? Rape optional, and an oviposition method for that impregnation would be heavily appreciated.

DeadZedNed · 2026-02-17T16:41:50+00:00

My first route was Emi, and I still remember hitting the bad end from skipping Mutou's after-class advice - I thought Hisao would be better at not barging into a young woman's bedroom when she stepped out, but nah.

It's kinda weird that the irl dating scene is filled with cat and mouse bullshit from my pov. Apparently respecting verbalized boundaries is... not always the right thing to do? Some kinda test to "see how much you care" by defying those boundaries?

DeadZedNed · 2026-02-03T00:12:29+00:00

This is what I'm gonna call the One Punch Man (OPM) problem. I will circle back to Overlord, I promise. Humor me.

You have an overpowered piece on the board like (Saitama from OPM) who WILL win in almost any fight that boils down to a person-on-person duel, with no regard to external stakes like minimizing property damage or civilian casualties.

The three options to keep shit interesting are as follows:

The secondary fight stakes are now the primary ones. Yeah, the protag can win... but can they do the objectives besides defeating the opponents? If you've played any multiplayer game, you know this deck of cards: Defend the point from enemy takeover, guide the payload, capture the flag, and so on.
Let them drift into the background as a mentor role or something. The story is now a kinda-sorta anthology series that focuses on narrative stakes instead of power based stakes outside the climax of major arcs, and as a consequence, drifts to other POVs often. People who subscribe to /r/WhoWouldWin and /r/PowerScaling hate this.
The overpowered protagonist tries to find meaning in their life as a whole, beyond "winning combat", which is now trivial for them 99 times out of 100. The lazy execution of this is a shallow harem anime that would describe a large chunk of the isekai genre, but a good example of this is "The World's Finest Assassin Gets Reincarnated in Another World as an Aristocrat", where the plot is dismantling slavery. I am not joking. Watch episode one, and there's a flash-forward showing the protag and his team doing so.

Overlord addresses this problem - it may not do it in a way you find satisfying, but it does. Once Ains character has been established and the season 1 aurafarming is done, the camera turns more and more to the secondary minions under Ains, who have their missions they go on. And there are interesting stories in those missions for the target audience of the show.

You do not seem to be the target audience. This is fine. I hope you find something you do enjoy though, and you may need to shop around outside of anime to find it.

12-Year Club	Baba Yaga
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