This isn't right. The game didn't start from here.
Once more I saw light. I gained consciousness and saw a blurry face. Then two. Then three. Eventually my eyes cleared, and I saw them. A family, a father, a mother, a brother. Nero's family. My new family. I didn't make these people. I made a backstory sure, I made them as monsters, but I never designed them as humans. The story never went back to Nero's birth either. This is more than what I made. Hopefully that's a good thing.
All around there was cleaning up. Looked like a midwife taking care of the mother. Wait I did remember designing her. She wasn't just a midwife, she was the local doctor. She was an important reoccurring NPC that took care of the town's health. She eventually seeks to try to cure or at least treat the Blooded Plague, the player can choose to aide her, it was going to lead to a longer quest line that affected the outcome of the game. I got about 3/4ths through making it.
I never made the human designs for Nero's parents, so I suppose it makes sense they look like the character I rolled. The father had the same dark green hair, long and tied back in a pony tail. A long nose, wide jawed, with a glimmer in his eyes. He looks like a strong man. Just as lean as my character, but looks like he has old man strength even though he only looks close to 30. The mother looks even thinner, probably more so from the trauma of birth as opposed to lack of nutrition. Although maybe that too. She has the same wide eyes that I saw moments ago in the mirror. Black haired, small nose, but a wide smile. Smiling but exhausted.
It all a bit of a rush from there. My little body couldn't handle everything, getting that first fresh breathe, crying out after. I was new, I was fresh, and this all felt far more real than I would've hoped. It all went dark yet again.
What I expected was either the usual nothingness of sleep, or dreams of some kind. Instead it felt more like memory. Not anything of my life, but of Nero's. Memories of the family I just met flooded into my mind, the father's name is Anos, he worked as an tinkerer, inventor, a man who worked with his hands but not as strenuous as toiling in the field. He made Nero and his brother, Cal, toys when they were children, and as he even began teaching cal some of the finer aspects of his craft as he was a couple years older. Mathematics, architecture, basics of physics and engineering. He usually spent his days working around the town fixing the machinery of farmers and blacksmiths.
The mother's name is Alicia, she worked as a weaver and seamstress, she made our clothes as we grew, fixed up anything that tore, made baskets to sell in the winters, and helped our father with artistic design and selling his creations. Memories of her playing with Nero and Cal, of her teaching them how to cook, and showing us her weaving and applauding our attempts.
Their attempts. Not our. All the memories have been flooding in and ingraining themselves into my mind. It's hard to keep it separate from my first life. It feels like I've lived through these moments.
For a second there's a lull in the memories, suddenly I'm back again,
"Wakey Wakey birthday boy."
My eyes open without me willing them to. It's mom and dad again. Wait.. no not my parents. It's Anos and Alicia. I'm here but I'm still not a participant. I'm living this moment through Nero.
Nero tugs his sheets down, moving with the overabundant excitement of a 10 year old about to receive gifts.
"We brought you eggs and bacon for breakfast bud" Anos says while holding a tray of fresh food. I can feel the heat rising off the food, fresh from the fire.
Nero's pure joy, his unbridled glee and excitement at it being his special day, it rubs off on me, makes me want to bubble with joy. I think of my own birthdays as a kid with my family while Nero opens the first of three gifts.
There were good times and bad times for my family. We usually did pretty well. The only rough times were when we fell into just middle class enough to not get any help, but not wealthy enough to be able to afford all our necessities. Birthdays were always nice though, we did our best, I never cared much for the gifts, could have just been a nice card for all I cared. My absolute favorite part was always just sitting around the table with cake and family.
Nero's first gift, from his mother, is a carefully crafted green and black scarf with a cursive N stitched into it on both ends. Smooth as silk in my hands, but warm like wool.
"Don't want you catching a cold as winter gets closer. Thought this one might last you a while though, so be careful not to damage it, okay Ner?"
"Okay! Thank you mama!", came Nero's chipper reply.
His second gift, from his brother Cal, was a set of toy trucks, looking to have been carved and assembled by hand.
"Spent the past month making these with Papa's help.. happy birthday"
"Gasp! Thank you big bro!! I love it! Will you play with me with them later?"
"Hmmm... fine. Only cause it's your birthday though"
"Thank you big brother!!!"
God Nero really was just a small child here. Now I feel a bit guilty considering what I know is gonna happen.
The final gift from his father Anos, was something more intricate. A combination pocket watch and compass. "Be careful with this, took me a long time to make. Make sure you account for a lost minute every couple months or so. Oh and read the engraving."
It was a beautiful piece, one side of it, at the press of a button, revealed an ornate and gently ticking clock, no fancy additions like in the modern era, but a classic bronze and steel look to it. Flipping it to the other side unveiled a similarly styled compass. Both sides had covers that flipped open at the press of two buttons at the top. Inside the cover of the compass side an engraving said, "To help you find your path" and the pocket watch's cover read, "and the time to travel it".
And with less than a blink, it was back to the void. I had a brief moment of peace between all the information and change and experience. All I could think of were my parents. My real parents, not Anos and Alicia, and all the birthdays I'd had with them. I remember the dark blue guitar the got me when I was eleven. I'd just mentioned wanting to try guitar, and they went all in on it. They wanted to encourage damn near any passion I had. I took guitar lessons for about a year and probably played it a handful of times over the years. Never got particularly good at it sadly, I love music, but was never very good at making it. I had a lot of things like that. Passion for a couple months, and then nothing. That's the hard part about motivation. You can listen to an energizing podcast, or hype song, get motivated for a day. You can have some grand idea or project even, feel motivated for a month or a year. But that feeling never lasts.
This game was the longest thing I've ever worked on. I started off so strong, so many of the systems in this game I made in the first three months. After that though, it always felt like a grind. Maybe that was a sign it wasn't the right path for me. But damn it I was so tired of giving up.
The influx of memories came back gradually. If I was corporeal I'd probably have a massive headache right now. Regardless I'm back to forcefully learning about weaving and clockwork. There are some nice memories in there too though. Who'd be upset at more birthday memories.