We're Here, page 22
“Why did Lord Set decide that lava was appropriate construction material for any part of the Pyramid?” Amu-Aa asked, his left eyebrow quirked so high it disappeared into his scalp tattoos.
“I don’t know, Amu! Why does Lord Khepri push the sun around every day? Why does Lady Sakhmet only drink beer when it’s dyed red and poured into pools in front of her? Why do the Gods do anything?”
Os brought his hand down on the table, but only lightly, not wishing to disturb the carcass that constituted Amu-Aa’s work.
Amu-Aa’s mouth quirked. “Himbo,” he muttered, turning back to the dead creature. Bone-tweezers whirred as he expertly removed the corpse’s vital organs and placed them in a precise pattern on an inked papyrus sheet. Os noticed feathers. It might have once been a bird.
“What are you working on, anyway?” Os asked, fully expecting a sarcastic joke about his own intelligence. Amu-Aa was always fiddling with something bizarre. With Isis, apart from the tub of blood, it had always been lotus flowers, chrysanthemums, and honeyed potions. Amu-Aa favoured things like beetle dung, baboon intestines, and on one memorable occasion, the half-digested remnants of a man regurgitated by a pregnant lioness. (“A very potent ingredient,” Amu-Aa had solemnly intoned.)
“A present for you,” Amu-Aa replied, without looking up. He was doing something extremely delicate and extremely disgusting with the bird’s eye.
Os paused. He had never seen Amu-Aa blush; his skin was always the colour of the swirling sands. But he tended to clear his throat noisily when embarrassed. Like he was doing just now.
“A present for me, Amu?” Os said softly.
Amu-Aa grimaced. “Shut up, Os. It’s a prophecy to help you in your next delve. So you don’t die as quickly. And so you stop bothering me by letting bathtubs of blood congeal.”
He wouldn’t meet Os’s eyes. The sounds he was making from his throat might have suggested that he’d swallowed a whole frog.
“Err, thanks?”
A small smile curled on Amu-Aa’s face as he placed a dismembered beak onto his papyrus diagram.“And you have my permission to continue,” Amu-Aa added.
“Continue what?”
“Continue calling me Amu. Since you’ve done it twice already without asking.”
Os, on the other hand, could blush deeply and profusely.
ActionKilla212 | Dec 24, 2020, 10:23 PM
PANDERING?
So I love Amu-Aa as a character. He’s WAY more fleshed out than Isis. But is the flirting between him and Os a bit much? There’s never a hint that Os is into dudes. He’s always been (if I read between the lines) kinda into Isis, or even Bastet. Forcing this gay element onto Os seems to be pandering to the LGBT?
I’m not homophobic or anything, but is this the representation gays really want? Isn’t this kinda like bullshit tokenism?
Or AITA?
* * *
GirlPhreak | Dec 24, 2020, 10:31 PM
RE: PANDERING?
@ActionKilla212 Yes, you are the asshole.
“Os?”
“Yeah...?” Os opened one eye. Arms crossed behind his head, he had been happily dozing against the eastern wall, next to an image of Lady Bastet painted in greens and yellows.
Amu cleared his throat. “Come help me with something?”
Os opened his other eye. “You want my help? With witchcraft?”
Amu shot him a withering look. “It’s about the Pyramid, himbo. You’re the only one I know who’s been inside it.”
“Really?” Os asked, picking himself up. “No-one from town has ever been curious?” He stretched lazily, feeling his muscles pop. It was good to spend time outside his armor and clothing. He thought Amu might be watching him but when Os turned to look, Amu was bent over a sheaf of papyrus, swallowing audibly.
“Well, the only one I know who’s still alive,” Amu mumbled. “Are you coming?”
Os sauntered over. “I’m only alive thanks to you, Amu,” he said, leaning over the witch.
Amu kept his workspace neat. A single sheaf of parchment, a few reed pens nestled in a case, and an inkwell. The leather surface of the table shone, as though oiled recently. Os braced himself with one arm near the edge.
Amu’s eyes flickered up at Os looming over him before returning to his hieroglyphs. “Yes, well...” he murmured, gesturing dismissively with a hand. “Have you seen these glyphs anywhere in the Pyramid?” he asked, stabbing at a string of symbols with his pen. “In one of your lava-rooms or something?”
Hovering above the witch, Os smelled...lilies and cinnamon, with a touch of honest sweat. Smiling, he allowed his eyes to rove the papyrus scroll. He was hardly a scholar, but he’d seen some unusual stuff in the Pyramid. This however, escaped him completely. It started familiar enough, but then grew strange, as though a different language altogether, letterforms spiky and ominous.
ERROR 504
UNDEFINED VARIABLE:
“AMU-AA”
“The hieroglyphs refer to Set,” Os said, frowning. “But I don’t know whatever that is after it.”
Amu nodded thoughtfully, while his fingers traced the strange writing. “I recognized Lord Set. Which is why I wanted to ask you. Due to your, err, connection to that particular deity...”
“You mean my blood-sealed oath of vengeance?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
Os shook his head. “Honestly, it looks a bit like Greek? Or maybe Latin?”
Amu’s head snapped upwards so fast Os had to jerk back to prevent being struck on the chin.
“What?” Os asked, excited. “Did you figure something out? Did I help?”
Amu’s eyes were wide. “Himbo, you read Latin and Greek?”
A twinge of hurt wriggled up from Os’ belly. It must have shown on his face because Amu’s expression instantly changed from surprise to dismay.
“No—Os, I didn’t mean—just—I wasn’t saying that you’re stupid or anything.”
Os turned away from the table. It was about time to head back anyway.
“Os, I—that was—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Os muttered, reaching for his breastplate.
“Os, please don’t go!”
Something new in Amu’s voice tugged at Os, yanked his head around to look back at him. The witch had stood up, hands balled at his sides. He looked upset.
“Os, please stay?” Amu pleaded, no trace of acid or barbs in his voice. “I’m sorry.”
Os smiled, his ill-feeling melting away under the brightness of Amu’s obvious consternation. He trotted over and placed a conciliatory hand on Amu’s shoulder.
“Well, if you insist,” he began, “But only because it’s really fun to bother this one witch I know while he tries to work...”
“Please don’t make me regret my decision.”
Os’s laugh was luminous and rosy, like the dawning sun.
An excerpt from Fags, Fandoms, & the Future: How LGBTQIA Modders & Amateur Game Designers Imagine a Queerer Videogame Multiverse
Arundhuti Mandal
* * *
Rather than simply accept the bland excuses or weak attempts at “diversity representation” touted by mainstream corporations, these passionate fans are taking the future of their favourite properties into their own hands. Fan modifications to existing videogames are nothing new, and mods focussed on exploring sexual interests are arguably some of the most popular. However, it is only recently that queer-themed mods have been garnering widespread attention. Indeed, entire storylines featuring queer content are being retrofitted into popular AAA titles by amateur designers.
The significance of this phenomenon cannot be understated. A legion of young, queer, justice-oriented gamers are essentially saying “We want gay art, and if you won’t make it we will!” Queer gamers are demanding positive representation in a hetero- and cis- normative world, and actively creating the change they wish to see. The resulting new, Frankenstein-artworks are experiencing a wave of popularity comparable to the original games themselves.
A poetic soul might wonder how the videogame characters themselves might feel. What would Super Massimo say to reading “Your Prince is in Another Castle” instead of the usual Princess? How would grizzled monster hunter Gustav of the Riviera react to being hit on by the legions of attractive male barmaids and sorcerers?
It took more than two dozen resurrections before Os dared look through some of Amu’s things. While Amu bent over the bloody tub clutching a coarse, camel-hair scrubber, Os rifled through the scrolls ensconced within the shelves that were cut into the southern wall, expecting to uncover ancient and terrible hieroglyphs to steal the breath of men, to strike down crops with the plague, to blind, burn, and bewitch…
“Amu, is this a recipe for Tiger Nut Cakes?”
“What?” Amu looked up. Pearls of perspiration glinted rather pleasingly on his chest. Os noticed Amu had blood in his eyebrows.
It suddenly struck Os that Amu was very, very attractive. He’d seen it before, certainly, but never really...internalized it?
“It’s a historic recipe, himbo.” Amu snapped. “I have other things to occupy my time besides constantly raising you from the dead, you know. I have other clients!”
That statement was jarring enough to pull Os out of pleasant thoughts about Amu’s chest.
“Wait, you do magic for others?”
Something in Os’s voice must have sounded off, because Amu straightened and raised an eyebrow quizzically.
“Yes?” he replied, gesturing to the tub. “The hippo blood doesn’t pay for itself you know...”
That...made perfect sense, of course. Amu wasn’t there solely for Os’s benefit. Of course Os hadn’t believed that. Of course not.“I thought you were bored? That the villagers left you alone?”
“Yes, well...” Amu cleared his throat and unconsciously picked some dried blood out from under his fingernails. “I didn’t want you growing a big head, did I? Travellers and such often ask for me.” His voice softened a little at the end of his sentence, almost as if he was embarrassed by the statement.
Standing by the shelves, Os took in the information. Travelers came in search of Amu, to ask for his advice and his magic. Was Amu famous? It dawned on Os that bringing a warrior back to life time and time again was possibly a rather complicated feat, something only a master witch could achieve.
Amu was really hot.
Despite the banter he had engaged in with Isis, Os had little experience with actual romance. He was a warrior. He had a mission. Everything else had always been secondary.
Os glanced back at the recipe. The glyphs were cut into an old slab of stone, instead of painted on papyrus.
“What were you doing with this recipe?”
The momentary embarrassment had vanished from Amu. He relaxed, folding his arms, and leaned jauntily against the tub. It was rather fetching.
“I’m glad you’re taking an interest in reading, himbo,” he said wryly. “That was actually a request from the Pharoah. A feast for her birthday featuring historic dishes.” Amu’s voice had taken on a hint of pride. “The Pharaoh gifted me twenty debens of ivory for it. Good pay. And for work that’s far easier than rubbing your corpse down with antelope grease before hauling it into the tub, let me tell you!
Os’ thoughts, which had veered towards interesting avenues regarding Amu, crashed at the image of being rubbed down by the witch. He opened his mouth dumbly.
“Huh?”
“It’s one of the preparations I have to make to your body before your Resurrection. Pain in the ass. I have to massage you with camel grease and rare herbs. It’s partly why the blood comes off your skin so easily.”
Os’s brain was now steeping in several pleasant images of Amu making expert use of his hands. Letting this happen turned out to be a bad idea. What with Os being naked.
Amu’s eyes widened as he looked down
“Os—are you—?” Amu stuttered, his voice breaking.
Lady Hathor, heed my plea!, Os prayed desperately. He had already resolved to be brave around Amu, hadn’t he?
“Amu?” he ventured, keeping his voice low. “Can I kiss you?”
Amu stepped back. His brow furrowed. He cleared his throat before hesitantly answering, “No...?”
Beyond a cursory, “Thank you,” Os barely said a word to Amu the next few resurrections. He avoided even looking at the witch for too long.
Finally, Amu rounded on him as he clambered out of the bath, splashing blood all over the food offerings.
“Are you done sulking, himbo?”
Os grabbed the proffered towel and grunted something indistinct.
“Os, you can’t just spring a question like that onto me, and then get upset when I refuse! What’s even the point of the question, then?”
Os stared down at the bloody towel in his hands. Something was curdling in his stomach.
Amu continued to scold him, “...and if you had paused a minute before huffing off, or even tried to talk, I might have said ‘let’s share a meal and talk about this first’...”
Os looked up, but Amu’s brow was still wrinkled in anger.
“...but instead you decided to act like a child, and honestly, I have better things to do than date immature, self-important, petulant wannabe-heroes, thank you very much.”
Os opened his mouth.
Os closed his mouth.
He was not a child. He was Osiris, divinely sworn to defeat Set. Within the Pyramid, he had faced hordes of unspeakable monsters, dodged innumerable traps, overcome countless dangers. He had died and lived and died again, a hundred times over.
He deserved this, didn’t he?
He was not a child.
Was he?
He said nothing.
Gurgle—splutter—BREATHE.
Os did not open his eyes. He remained in the tub, basking in the viscous warmth. He had penetrated further into the Pyramid than ever before, into a cold, alien level with jagged teeth of ice thrusting from the ceiling.
He fought, he died, he returned. There would be no respite from that. There was nothing else, not until he defeated Set.
Amu had said—
Amu.
It didn’t matter what Amu had said.
Amu would normally be snapping at him by this point, complaining about congealing blood. Had he finally given up on Os?
He began dragging himself out of the tub, runnels of dark, red liquid spilling everywhere.
“The blood becomes you, my lord.”
Os froze. His eyes snapped open.
Jet black hair hanging long and loose. A crown shaped like a throne. An enigmatic smile.
Isis.
“My Lord Osiris, are you ready for your next venture?” Isis asked, her voice smoky like frankincense. “Pardon my forthrightness, but the flex of your muscles is rather more pronounced than last time. It would seem you are deepening not only your strengths but your handsomeness...”
Os sprang up, not caring that he knocked over an offering plate of enormous dried chrysanthemums and splashed blood onto Isis’ white linens. His gaze darted around the room.
The furniture Amu had installed was gone. The man was nowhere to be seen.
“Lady Witch, where is Amu-Aa?” he croaked.
Isis’ delicate brow furrowed. “My Lord? To whom do you refer? Is that perchance the demon that slew you this time? Rest assured, no demon can puncture my spells!”
“No!” Os cried as he continued to whirl about the room, hoping to find a trace—any trace—of the tattooed witch with the sharp tongue. “There was another witch. A man—named Amu-Aa. Where did he go?”
Isis stepped softly towards him. “There is no other witch,” she said in a silken voice, “Only me. Perhaps my lord is upset from his last visit? Perhaps you desire...something more of me?”
Os’s eyes finally snapped back to Isis. She was very close to him now. Her skin, sandstone brown, was smooth and flawless. Her lips were parted and moist, her eyes large.
“Err...What?”
In response, Isis smiled as she ran a red-lacquered finger gently down his arm. She hadn’t offered him a towel. He was still soaked in blood.
Okay…
Isis had never been this...this...blatant, before, had she?
Isis’ eyes travelled down from his face. Down the length of his body, down, down, until her gaze paused and her smile deepened.
“You appear eager, my lord,” she crooned.
Os stepped back. He felt betrayed by his own anatomy.
“Err..Isis, I...I barely know you...”
“What is there to know, Lord? We need not talk. Only indulge in earthly delights.” The sway of her hips hinted that the delights would be very earthly indeed.
But where was Amu? Os could not think. His brain fizzed with Isis’s curves, Isis’s softness, Isis’s honeyed voice.
“Come, Lord. Let me show you what a witch truly knows...”
Os’s world melted into mist.
Sutekh: The Long Winter - Review
By Melody Chan
Rating: ★★★★★
The first expansion to blockbuster roguelike Sutekh does not disappoint. With the addition of winter themed levels, the khopesh as a brand new weapon, and tonnes of new story content, S:TLW delivers a potent dose of Sutekh goodness in one inexpensive package.
Players will even get to see a deepening of the Os-Isis romance, complete with a fade-to-black sex scene between the two slow-burn lovers.
Unfortunately, developer HyperLilliput has announced that they have no plans to ensure the expansion’s compatibility with fan-made mods (I had to uninstall three in order to launch the game).
—splutter—BREATHE.
Resurrection was never comfortable. But it was never like this.
Os knew what a spear shoved through one’s skull felt like. An instant of jagged pain, followed by peace. This was the same, except there was no relief. Again and again, the pain stabbed into his head, like the battle-roar of a lioness, like the vengeance of Lady Sakhmet. The blood in the tub grew hot, begun to boil. He tried to cry out but scalding blood flooded his mouth as unknown, alien symbols burst into his brain.
