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Books For Self Development

Forced Development

To get things started I would like to admit that this story does not bring much new to the table when it comes to the over-saturated Litrpg genre in terms of things like mechanics and power systems. Then what exactly am I trying to bring to the table with this work? A nice slow-paced novel about people maturing and growing older think of it as the re: zero or jobless reincarnation of Litrpgs. A story that tries to take into consideration how a worldwide system would affect the economics and culture of a world. A story that is much more character-focused than the typical heavy progression-focused novels this genre is known for. The RPG system, like any good power system, is there to actually explore the themes of the story and not just as a plot device for characters to get stronger. This is a story where we will see the growth of the Mc from being a baby to when he dies of old age. With plenty of heart-racing actions and intriguing plot developments along the way. Exploring themes like; What does it mean to improve at something and what does it mean to mature as a person?  How does magic,  the constant threat of monsters and people so much stronger than the average joe that they can destroy countries affect one's culture both on the micro and the macro scale? How people are affected by the culture in general? Generational trauma Nature vs Nurture Talent vs hard work  What is morality, society, and people's opinions on both? What does it mean to be human and what does it mean to be alive in the context of a world with multiple sapient species vastly different from one another in basic biology? All these questions are going to be explored from multiple angles using the system as a catalyst for those discussions. So if any of does questions sound interesting to you what are you waiting for, I'm sure you are going to love this story. PS - Chapters come out every Friday at about the same time.
TWB9Emeralds · 9.5K Views

For Me, For Us, For Everyone

Cigarette smoke curls in the stagnant air, the dim glow of a dying bulb casting twisted shadows against the walls littered with half-torn articles and red-thread connections. Somewhere between the ink-stained papers and the scattered pills, a man sits—silent, unmoving, staring blankly at a stuffed monkey in a clown suit. A detective, they call him. A man of justice, a solver of mysteries. But behind the applause and empty praises, behind the sharp smiles and hollow congratulations, he is nothing but a walking contradiction—one hand holding a case file, the other exchanging cash for little plastic sachets. His mind is a labyrinth of voices, whispers that coil around his thoughts like suffocating vines. His brother grins at him from the corners of his vision, eyes glinting with the truth he refuses to face. His father’s voice is gentle, forgiving—too forgiving. Too much for a man who doesn’t deserve it. Each pill swallowed is another step into the illusion, another moment of stolen happiness before the weight of reality drags him under. He walks the city streets, drowning in faces that admire him, loathe him, see him as something he is not. He is both a hero and a villain, a detective and a criminal, a man trying to outrun the past while shackled to its corpse. And at the end of the night, when the echoes of the world fall away, all that remains is the darkness, the whispers, and the suffocating truth—he can never escape them.
Zeisn · 0 Views
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