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When we were kids, my little brother died on Halloween. He's come back to visit me every year since his death.
Jimmy returned for the first time exactly one year after the accident. I was home alone. Dad was at the bar and Mom was dead. We’d crammed her into a pine box and shipped her off to the incinerator months ago. I’d been sitting on the couch watching a plump cockroach scuttle across the coffee table, sipping whiskey that I’d liberated the previous night after Dad passed out. I wasn’t quite drunk yet. At eleven years old, my tolerance to alcohol was comparable to most local stumblebum drunks. A knock came to the door, the gentle tap of brittle knuckles upon rotted wood. I paused with the rim of the bottle resting against my lips. Even the cockroach cocked its long antennae curiously toward the door. The local trick-or-treaters knew better than to come here seeking candy. Our ramshackle abode was always one DHS visit away from being condemned, and the cobwebs and sundry creepy-crawlies in our front windows certainly weren’t decorative. I reflexively choked out a sob when I opened the door and saw his ghostly form. The sheet draped over him was stained brown and soaked with stinking river water. “Jimmy?” I asked, my voice croaking in disbelief. As if to answer me, his jaw fell slack and I heard the tiniest groan emerge from under that sheet, like a whining door hinge in a quiet house. He raised his hand to me and I shrank back in fear, expecting him to thrust an accusatory finger and damn me as a liar and murderer. Instead, I realized that he was holding his hand open, expecting something. A dry, throaty sound whistled up from his slackened jaw and I suddenly understood what he wanted. My little brother had come back for his favorite holiday. I rushed up to my bedroom, reached under my bed, and grabbed Jimmy’s pumpkin-shaped Halloween bucket. I flicked off the roaches and shook out mouse shit then ran back to the front steps, where my little brother was waiting. As Jimmy snatched his candy bucket from me, I saw them, watching us from the corner. It was the same group of older bullies that harassed us last year, on the night of the accident. Last time, they’d been wearing clown masks. They chose the Power Rangers this year. Despite their masks, I could tell that those bullies didn’t quite believe what they were seeing. Jimmy had been presumed dead for a year, yet here he was, wearing the very same costume they’d seen him wearing on the night he went missing. I’d had a growth spurt since that night. Rage and self-hatred did wonders for a growing boy’s physique. Fueled by whiskey and a desperate urge to blame anyone other than myself for Jimmy’s death, I charged them. Outnumbered four-to-one, I took some shots, no doubt, but I routed them regardless, and I left one of them bleeding on the sidewalk, beaten nearly half-to-death. Then I returned to Jimmy, smiling, and hooked my pinky around his before we set off to celebrate Halloween. # I sat on my couch, eyes trained on the flickering candle on my coffee table. The power had been out for a month and I hadn’t seen any good reason to turn it back on; I’d only be cutting into my meager booze budget and, besides, the city was kicking me out in a few days. The house had been bought and paid for by some long-dead relative then passed down to my parents as an act of pity. When Dad finally kicked the bucket, he left the house to me, but I was never quite able to stay ahead of the property taxes. I wasn’t going to miss the place. It wasn’t exactly full of fond memories. At this time of night, I’d normally be blackout drunk, but tonight was Halloween and I didn’t want to miss Jimmy. My entire life might have amounted to a hill of shit, but I’ve promised to never let my little brother down again. I checked the time. Eight o’clock on the dot. I grabbed Jimmy’s Halloween bucket and headed out front. Jimmy never did tell me why Halloween was his favorite holiday. He’d been a gentle kid, small for his age, fair-skinned and wispy. You wouldn’t have known it to look at him, but he preferred the schlock and gore of October grindhouse horror movie marathons to kiddie fare more appropriate to his age. He never flinched at the scary parts, when the reanimated undead wreaked havoc or dream demons emerged to slash open teenage throats. I’d never attributed his love of Halloween to something so cliché as donning a mask to pretend to be someone else, though I wouldn’t have blamed him. No, I’d always suspected that Jimmy loved this time of year specifically because it was when the world went dim and happily embraced the horrific. Vampires and possessed dolls and werewolves made more sense than the more abstract horrors we faced at home. Or, shit, maybe the kid just really liked candy. I stepped outside and the riverwards were alive with grinning jack-o-lanterns, windows glowing orange and framed with fake spider webs, and scores of yuppie parents leading their kids door-to-door. I spotted him walking slowly toward the house. I swore, he got smaller every year. I waved to him. He didn’t wave back, but he did cock his head slightly, as if he was struggling to remember who I was. As always, he was wearing the filthy sheet, soaked in river water. I felt a passing wave of revulsion and guilt when I glimpsed the faded bloodstains where the fabric hugged Jimmy’s misshapen occipital. I smiled and offered him the bucket. Jimmy snatched it from my hand. Though there was only darkness within those crooked eye holes I’d cut into the sheet twenty-five years ago, somehow I knew that if he still had eyes, they’d have been gleaming. I reached down to his hand, hooked my pinky around his, and I took my little brother trick-or-treating, like I’d done every year since he first returned. This wasn’t our neighborhood anymore. Sure, the names of the streets were the same, but that was about it. The yuppie influx, with the ensuing rent increases and property tax hikes, had squashed out most of the old guard. The newbies didn’t care for the sturdy, century-old houses forged with brick and mortar. One by one, those stout homes were being flattened to make way for flimsier, but more stylish facades. Soon, our childhood home was going to suffer the same fate. Jimmy must have sensed that something was amiss because he tightened his pinky around mine. Though I haven’t heard his voice since that night by the river, his pinky squeeze said enough. It said, I’ve got you. That was our private show of reassurance that helped sustain us through our childhood. When Mom wept at the dinner table as we split a dried hunk of welfare cheese for dinner, I’d give Jimmy a squeeze. When Dad staggered home drunk and started laying into Mom, I’d join Jimmy on his small twin mattress. We’d squeeze pinkies, eyes shut tight, with pillows over our ears so we wouldn’t have to hear Dad’s fist knocking against Mom’s head. I’ve got you. Tonight, we stopped at every house that still had its lights on. Our new neighbors smiled awkwardly, genuinely troubled by the sight of the neighborhood drunk escorting a child in a raggedy ghost costume. I didn’t give a shit what they thought as long as they tossed a few bite-sized Snickers bars into Jimmy’s bucket. Soon, the streets began to empty and the trick-or-treaters went home. One by one, those grinning jack-o-lanterns went dark, those orange window lights dimmed, and it was just Jimmy and I wandering the lonely streets. We headed back toward the house. This was where we would normally part ways, with Jimmy heading back on his own. Tonight, though, I remained at his side. He cocked his head again, curious. I squeezed his pinky. # Though I loved Jimmy, he was still my little brother and, often, I treated him as such. Just because I hated the neighborhood bullies didn’t mean I didn’t glean some pointers from their abuse. Sometimes, I’d slap Jimmy around or steal his toys because he’d annoyed me somehow. Other times, I just wanted to feel stronger than someone else. The day of his death, Jimmy had put me in a particularly foul mood. Using the five-fingered discount, I’d gotten comic books from the drug store on York Street and I was looking forward to thumbing through them. Jimmy came rushing into our bedroom, crying because the rats had gotten to his hand-me-down Jason Voorhees costume. The critters had gnawed through the plastic hockey mask and left the (fake) blood-splattered overalls stinking like rat turds. I told him to take it up with Mom and Dad, but he said Mom was passed out and Dad was at the bar, as usual. My mood instantly turned black, not necessarily because of Jimmy, but because, once again, I’d have to pick up the slack for our parents. I cooked most of Jimmy’s meals. I scrubbed the stink off his clothes and got him ready for school every morning while Mom and Dad were off, drunk and doped. All I’d wanted was a night to myself, curled up in bed with some stolen comic books, but they couldn’t stay sober long enough to even give me that much. Somehow, I kept my temper in check. I got him to stop sobbing by yanking the sheet off his bed, cutting out those mismatched eye holes, and draping it over him. “There,” I said. “You’re a ghost now.” His green eyes were visible through the holes in the sheet. His cheeks perked up under the sheet and I could tell he was smiling. “Can you take me trick-or-treating?” he asked. No, I didn’t want to, but I also didn’t want him crying again and Mom would have beaten the shit out of me if I let Jimmy wander the neighborhood alone. So we set out into the streets, amongst a legion of Ninja Turtles and Ghostbusters and Barbie dolls brought to life. Though it was simple, he enjoyed his makeshift costume. I was just hoping to get through the night without bumping into our enemies. That was certainly naïve of me. It didn’t take long for them to zero in on us. There were four of them, all older boys. Even the smallest one towered over me. They were wearing clown masks, thin plastic smiling red-nosed clowns that filled my stomach with dread. None of the parents milling about with their kids noticed the brewing confrontation, not with the dozens of trick-or-treaters clogging the sidewalk. Jimmy clutched his candy bucket to his chest. One of the bullies reached for it, and that was when I snapped. I couldn’t help it. I might have been pissed off at him for dragging me out here, but this was Jimmy’s favorite night of the year. I couldn’t watch some assholes ruin it for him. I swung, hard. My fist connected with the bully’s face and I heard a loud crunch right before blood trickled down from behind the clown’s visage. I grabbed Jimmy by the wrist and we took off into the throngs of costumed kids. We rounded the next corner and disappeared into an alley. We hid there, holding our breath as the bullies sped past. There was no way they were going to let this go. Two of them would likely roam the neighborhood looking for us, while the other two would lay in wait near our house. “What are we going to do?” Jimmy asked, voice quivering in fear. Every night, right before I blackout, I think about how I should have just squeezed his pinky. But I didn’t. Instead, I blamed him. We wouldn’t have been in this trouble if he hadn’t been such a crybaby back home. That was why, of the dozens of places we could have gone to hide, I chose the river, because I knew he was terrified of the river. # Today, the Delaware riverfront was as gentrified as the rest of the neighborhood. A casino and towering condominiums loomed large and quaint pedestrian walkways were infested with pop-up beer gardens. In our youth, the riverfront had been an industrial graveyard, dominated by long-shuttered factories with stretches of wilderness between them. Stinking sumac trees swayed overhead and plump river rats darted through the bushes. This wasn’t the first time we had to hide back here. Jimmy always hated it. Although the neighborhood lay only a quarter-mile to the west, Jimmy thought the riverfront was too isolated. He feared that if our bullies ever caught us here, they could kill us and no one would ever know. My mood hadn’t improved when we finally reached one of the piers, big gray concrete blocks jutting out fifty feet into the sloshing water, supported by a number of wood pilings underneath. Jimmy remained a few feet behind me, still in his costume, nervously gripping his Halloween bucket. The tide was coming in and he jumped every time he felt a wave hit the pilings beneath us, as if the pier might collapse. But what scared Jimmy the most was the possibility of falling into the water, that those rough green-brown waves might trap him under the pier, where he’d come up for air and smash his face against unyielding concrete instead. “Can we just please try to go home?” he whined. “No,” I snapped back. “Not unless you want those assholes to knock your teeth out.” He lowered his head. “But I don’t like it back here.” Looking at my whimpering little brother, I lost all sense of empathy. After running scared from our bullies, I was eager to assert myself as an alpha. I yanked him toward the edge of the pier. “I’m so tired of you acting like a wimp,” I snarled. I shoved him closer to the edge, where the water sloshed violently ten feet below us. “There’s nothing to be afraid of back here.” “I just want to go home,” he cried, the eye holes in the sheet now rimmed with tears. “Stop being such a pussy!” I shouted then instinctively gave him a stiff right hook to the shoulder. What happened next occurred within seconds, yet in my memory, it seems to play out for an eternity. I’d hit him harder than I meant to. Jimmy dropped his candy bucket then staggered as his shoes got caught in the pool of fabric underfoot. I watched in muted disbelief as he flopped over the pier, arms waving, right before the back of his head cracked against the concrete edge. There was a splash ten feet beneath me and my brother was gone, leaving behind nothing more than a red patch on the concrete and white bubbles breaking the water’s surface. # Pinkies locked, we maneuvered through condominium parking lots and empty beer garden stalls until we reached that old pier. For a moment, my memories blended with the present and I saw myself, cold and shivering and soaked with river water, trudging back toward the neighborhood alone, clutching Jimmy’s candy bucket. I remembered how cold and dark the river was when I dove in, fighting the waves, trying in vain to find my brother before finally giving up. I never told anyone what happened. That night, when I got home, Mom was still passed out and Dad hadn’t come back from the bar yet. I hid my wet clothes then, later, told them that Jimmy had simply run away from me. I was terrified of what would happen if they knew the truth. There was a police search that amounted to nothing. Dad didn’t seem to care very much. Months later, Mom swallowed forty sleeping pills and never woke up. I took to stealing swigs of Dad’s half-empty liquor bottles to soothe my guilt, a habit that had served me ever since. But even that relief has proved fleeting. As Jimmy and I walked along the pier, I tightened my pinky around his, content to die sober. We stood at the edge of the pier. Though I couldn’t see his face, I could tell that he was no less afraid of the river now than he had been twenty-five years ago. Jimmy stepped off the pier and disappeared into the water below. I wondered, once this pier was inevitably torn asunder to make way for a condo or another casino, would Jimmy still resurface on Halloween? If he did, and he ventured into the neighborhood, would he even recognize that the shiny new studio apartments were standing on the grave of our old house? Either way, I was going to make sure that he didn’t go through it alone. I stepped off the pier, just like Jimmy had that night. I cracked the base of my skull against that concrete lip. A lightning flash of pain shot across the world and I crashed hard into the water, pushed at once by the tide under the pier. A wave slammed me against one of the pilings and I felt something snap in my back and, when I tried to scream, filthy river water filled my mouth. Yet, as I was thrashed about under the dock, my consciousness slowly fading, I felt Jimmy’s tiny pinky finger squeezing around my own. I’ve got you. # That happened almost one year ago, last Halloween. Though I wanted nothing more than to slip into a watery slumber with my little brother, he must have felt otherwise. I woke up, weeks later, in a hospital. They removed patches of my skull to relieve the pressure from the brain bleed, courtesy of cracking my head on that concrete lip. My ribs had been shattered to splinters from the paramedics’ vigorous chest compressions. They found me on the road, which meant Jimmy dragged me from the water, across the industrial wilderness, then out to the waiting blacktop. I asked the medics if there’d been a boy in a ratty ghost costume with me when they arrived. They said they hadn’t seen one. Anyway, I’m writing this on the computer at the public library right off Girard Avenue, but I better finish up. The librarian is a real asshole. Doesn’t like it when street bums like me stink up the joint. It’s almost Halloween once again. Jimmy might not want me down in the water with him, but I’m going back to join him, regardless. I’ve got his candy bucket, so we can hit the neighborhood one last time. I’ve also got a box cutter with the sharpest goddamn razors I could find. Once Jimmy slips back into the water, I’m going to open myself up – both wrists, then my carotid artery – and I’m jumping into that green-blue Delaware shitwater right along with him, because I’m Jimmy’s big brother, god damn it. I won’t let him swim alone.
https://youtu.be/PEI2zet48Uc I woke up. 7pm. Head ringing. The events of last night cast over my mind like a fog at night. God… Another terrible night at the Boris casinos. Those payouts were worse than ever before. I rolled over and look at the bedside table. A cask of Alexandrian vodka greeted me. “Hello mama…” I whispered to myself, and took a swig. Ah, the sweet taste of liquor. I pulled myself out of bed, stumbling. I wandered over to my closet. “Fire prot or normal prot today?” I mumbled to myself, looking at the array of suits. “Prot it is.” I thought. I got dressed, and wandered out to the balcony, and lit myself a cigarette. This city is a dump, I thought to myself. I looked out at MTA below. It was a city of scum and villainy. A home for every crook, criminal and degenerate in ‘Realms. And I was tasked with tracking the craziest of them all - Robokaiser. Olympia HQ had sent me to the city to take down the Kaiser Mafia, and I’d been hard at work infiltrating his bootlegging ring. The chief, Vanax, believed he’d been smuggling chocaine all the way from Tchad. I stubbed out the cigarette, and went back inside. I spread out the list of files in front of me. It was a folder of the biggest scum in MTA… Robokaiser the Mayor at the top, but Vespasian, a major political figure, Ladez, owned of Rokkomart, Aimauri, Robo’s top goon and more covered the papers. These were the men I was tasked to take down. All on my own. Tonight would be like any other night, or so I thought. As I stepped outside into the dark streets of MTA from my small apartment, the stench hit me immediately. You see, MTA was situated right on a major river, downstream from some serious urban settlements. They dumped sewage, probably illegally, but who cares, into the river - and it floated right down to the city. 24/7, the stink of shit. What a dump. SaikiKusuoh, a local hooker, greeted me. “Hey baby, looking for a good time?”. “Get outta here, whore.” I replied. The stakeout today would be Rokkomart. Ya see, Rokkomart had this new deal going on - free blast furnace on the weekends. But this real wiz in our tech department, GDAN, had an idea - maybe it was all a coverup. A little sweeten-the-deal for the local business owners to help them move chocaine. So I’d been tasked today with checking out the joint. I walked down the promenade. Flashing signs advertising the ATC, lap dances and pornography greeted me. Fuck this city. Rokkomart was busy today - no surprise, the blast furnace was open. A few regulars greeted me - Nekowo, Jonpachi were their names. They were hooked on chocaine, that was for sure. Whether they were involved in the smuggling, I don’t know. Rokkomart was a real nice joint. They had electric lighting and central heating, and the waitresses were the nicest in town. I didn’t have time to stop for a drink, though. Nonchalantly, I strolled to the furnace. Aimauri was nowhere to be seen, but Ladez was talking to a figure I hadn’t seen before. I quietly moved towards them, preparing to eavesdrop. That’s when I recognised him. It was someone I’d heard about on the radio before - it was the fuckin’ mayor of Cantina! Posey! I immediately hid beyond a column, lit a cigarette, and pretended to read a nearby newspaper. I couldn’t hear much over the noise from the bar, but some of what they were saying was coming through. “shipment.... straight from… Chungus.... zoomers working…”. Whatever exactly they were saying wasn’t clear to me, but one thing was: this shit went straight to the top. These chocaine smugglers weren’t small time, there was big money at play. After a few minutes, they stopped talking. I looked round - nowhere to be seen. But this was my chance. I slipped into the blast furnace, and the room was empty. Just what I needed. I took out my tobacco pouch, and deftly took out the little swab. “Thanks Tomo.” I thought to myself. The wetback was a real quick one, straight from El Paso, who’d designed some of our best equipment. I took some fingerprints, and stepped outside. And that’s when I saw them. Azdekar and Vendetta, walking straight my way. “Shit!” I realised. Calmly and with composure, I turned on my heels and began walking away from them. I could hear them up pace. So did I. Seconds, later, I broke out into a sprint. “GET HIM!” one of them shouted, I’m not sure which. You see, Rokkomart was an old place. Towering roofs, stern columns, carpets, the whole shebang. When the place wasn’t packed to the brim with customers, it was packed to the brim with cleaners. And that was my out. After I turned round the corner, I saw it - a laundry chute. It was gonna be a tight fit, but my only way out. I ducked into the vent. “Where da fuck’d he go?” shouted one of the goons. “I dunno, but Ladez is gunna be pissed.” replied the other. Was Ladez onto my trail? Did he see my listening in on him and Posey? This wasn’t good. But I didn’t have time to think about that while I tumbled down into the cleaner’s room. Still, it was good that I’d cased the joint a few days ago. I let myself out by the back of Rokkomart, into a dirty back alley filled with junkies and hobos. “Jeez, you look like shit!” shouted one of the bums - citylion was his name. I sighed, and pulled my tie up. This night wasn't going my way. TBC
A Vegas Miracle - how I won $129,000 in my 3rd tournament ever
This is how I won $129,000 in my 3rd ever poker tournament. Note: don't try this, it probably won't turn out well for you. I spent about 6 months grinding up a $5,000 bankroll playing home/casino games ranging from .5/1 to 1/3. The week that I hit that $5,000 mark, Matt, one of my best friends from college informed me that his job had placed him in Las Vegas for the next month and that I could crash with him for a few nights if I wanted to come on out west. I had frequent flyer miles for the flight and some Mlife/Fremont hotel comps for the rest of the trip. My grand total for flight and lodging for 10 days came to $200. Now, I’m not going to bore you guys with low-level cash hand histories. The next 10 days were filled with me playing lowstakes poker for 10-12 hours a day. It’s as fun as it sounds – it’s not. I was having a good time in Vegas otherwise – but towards the end of the trip I had a realization: 1/2’s the same everywhere. I didn’t have to fly out to the desert to raise to $7 preflop. After 10 days, my grand total from poker (and a fair amount of dumb degenerate shit on Fremont) was -$186. That wasn’t what I came out to do — I knew that I was a better player than my recent results had indicated. The morning of my return flight, I decided I was going to play tournaments until I either busted my $5,000 bankroll or hit something worthwhile. I impulsively decided to not get on my plane at 11:30am. Checkout time from Luxor was at 11:00 – and I didn’t know where I was going yet. I had 30 minutes to pack up my stuff and figure out where I was going before they’d charge me a fee. I sorted TripAdvisor by cheapest first – I’ve stayed in crappy hostels/motels before and overall am a very low maintenance person. I figured that by staying somewhere for $20 a night, I’d be able to maximize the amount of shots I could take before flying back home. I accepted that there was a real chance I’d go back broke – but I didn’t really care. If I didn’t take my shot now, then when? I booked the cheapest bed in Vegas - a 6-person shared hostel just past the Stratosphere. Let's just say you get what you pay for — it was not a happy place. A fair amount of the people in there were bordering on homelessness and there was barbed wire surrounding their outdoor gym. In addition to this, I had the constant stress of knowing that all that separated my bankroll from the rest of my roommates was a tiny lock. I took the Deuce to the strip, lived off food comps, and turned down invites from my friends to hang out. I was in town to play poker, nothing else. Disclaimer: I had never played tournaments prior to heading out to Vegas. My only knowledge of hand ranges was from watching televised events. I downloaded a free Nash chart app on my phone while on the Deuce to the strip and studied it for 5 minutes – whatever, I get the jist of it. Let’s play some cards. The first day of doing this I played the $140 daily at the Aria. Top 13 spots paid -- I finished in 15th. It was depressing to say the least — I felt as if I was at rock bottom. Before the first night of sleeping at the hostel I called the airline to see if I could get on the flight that I had deliberately missed the day prior. I couldn't. I made it my goal to at least cash something so that I could get a decent hotel room. I couldn’t have slept more than 2-3 hours the first night there. One of my roommates was loudly vomiting all night, the sheets itched, and I was going through an existential crisis... like dude, you’ve got a finance degree and you’re really doing this shit? While on the bus to the strip, I opened Poker Atlas and saw that there was a $200 satellite to win a seat into the $1,600 Venetian main event. I decided that I was going to go take a shot at that. I was at risk twice in the satellite but after studying the GTO method on how to win coinflips, I persevered and won a seat to the main. The first day was surreal – once again, I was running on minimal sleep due to my housing arrangements, but I remember the following hands from day 1:
Button opens to 2.2x, I’m in the BB with Q9cc. SB folds, we go HU to a flop of 832c. He c-bets, I call. Turn 4x, x/x. River Ax. I check, he bets, I x/r to like 3x his bet, he insta folds. I take it down and show air.
UTG+1 opens, MP calls, I flat on the button with K10ss. 3 ways to a flop of Qs43xx. UTG+1 bets 40% pot, MP calls, I call. Turn is the Js. UTG+1 bets 60% pot, MP calls, I flat. River comes the 8s. UTG+1 snap bets 80%. MP flats, I flat. I announce king high flush, they both muck.
Folds to the SB, he limps, I look down at Q10o, and check. Flop comes KQ6r. He leads 35%, I call. Turn 10. He bets, I call. River comes a J. He bets, I tank for about 45 seconds then flick in a call, he shows 76o… ship it.
The average stack after day 1 was around 40k, I bagged like 65k. I walked back to the Deuce stop outside of the Venetian and headed on my 30 minute ride back home. I kept thinking to myself, someone’s gotta win this thing, why not me? I had to get in the money for this tournament to be able to get the fuck out of there. A min cash here was over $3k – that was more than enough for me to get a suite on Fremont for a few nights and party for a bit, then get home with my head held high. Day 2: I get up at 7am after already being completely awake for the past 4 hours. There’s no way I slept more than 3 hours last night. I hit the Denny’s by the Stratosphere then get on the Deuce. I get to the Venetian and feel like I’m about to fall asleep. I go to the self-serve coffee/tea dispenser in the middle of the room and make myself an iced coffee. I get to my table, and the cocktail waitress comes around. I ask for another iced coffee and toss her a fiver. Here are some highlights from the 1st half of day 2:
I open 97ss on the button, BB flats. Flop comes AK3s. BB checks, I bet 35%. He throws out a 5k chip – which I interpret as a x/r to my bet. I groan, make a joke about it being the first hand of the day, and start to muck. The dealer stops my cards midway before hitting the muck, and informs me that he didn’t raise, that he called my flop bet. Everyone laughs, I go silent and wait for him to make change. Turn is the 2s. He thinks for a second and bets 30%. I tank for like 30 seconds, then flat. River is a blank. He thinks for a second, then checks. I bet like 30% pot. He tells me that I’m an angle shooter and mucks. I tell him I’m not an angle shooter and show my 9 high. Everyone laughs, we get on with playing.
CO opens, I 3b 87dd in the SB to 4x, he flats. Flop comes 1032d. I check, he checks. Turn is the 6d. I bet 55% pot, he flats. River comes the Kd. I bet 60%, he tanks, tells me he thinks I backdoored diamonds, then folds. Damn, these players are pretty good.
I open KK UTG to 2.5x, UTG +1 flats. Heads up to a flop of K43r. x/x. Turn 8, I bet 40% pot, he calls. River 3, I bet 80% pot, he tanks, then calls with AK.
I bring my 3 racks of chips to the new table and immediately get some comments – whatever, I’m just on a heater, it happens. At this point, my body was giving out. I was trying my hardest not to fall asleep in between every hand. Cutoff opens, I’m in the SB, I look down at KK. I put in the 3b, folds back to him. He puts in a healthy 4. We’re the two big stacks at the table – I’d guess he was 50bb effective while I was around 65bb. God damn, am I good enough to fold kings here? No, I’m not. I shove, he snaps, I know that I’ve just fucked up my tournament. He shows the aces. The dealer puts a king in the window, and I hold. I’m for sure the chip leader now. I lose a few 40/60 and 60/40 flips and chip down a bit. I still have a very healthy stack, probably around 80bb. The next 3 hands are from the second half of day 2:
Aggro Asian guy on the button. Folds to him, he opens to 2.2x, SB folds, I look down at 43ss and raise to 7.5x, he flats.
Flop comes 894cc. I check, he bets, I call. Turn’s another 9. I check, he bets 75% pot, I call. River’s the 10c. I check, he bets 1.2x pot. I ask the dealer for a count of the bet – meanwhile, villain looks like he’s going to shit himself. I flick in a chip, he throws down KcQx. I laugh a little, show my 43ss, and obnoxiously say ship it.
I open KQo UTG+1, MP 3bets me. I figure that a 4b from UTG+1 could take it down a fair amount of the time, so I decide to go for it. He thinks for a second and flats.
Flop comes AK4r. I check, he checks back. Turn is a 6, goes x/x again. River’s another brick. I put in a 30% value bet. He does a little grimace and tanks for like 20 seconds. It looks like he’s going to fold so I start verbally telling him that his queens are good. The dealer informs me that you’re not allowed to talk about your hand to another player. I inform him that I’m not talking about my hand, I’m talking about villains’ hand. Dealer laughs and lets me continue to antagonize villain. MP starts talking back, asking if I’m really bluffing. I inform him that once he folds, I’ll show the bluff. He ends up calling, I snap show, he pays me then gets up from the table to go for a walk.
We’re playing 6 handed. UTG opens, MP flats, I flat TT on the button. 3 ways to a flop of AT9ccc. UTG bets 50% pot, MP folds, I put in a medium sized raise. He thinks about it and flats.
The turn is the Kd. He pauses for a second then checks. I figured AxKc was his most likely combo. I didn’t think he could fold AxKc to any sizing – I decide to overbet jam 2x pot. He tanks for like 5 min and eventually lets it go. He tells me later he folded AxKc. Nice fold sir. I finished day two 2nd in chips out of the 64 players remaining. More importantly, I was in the money. My friend Matt offered to give me a ride to the hostel to grab my stuff. On the way to the hostel I’m telling Matt how trash the place is and he’s kind of like yeah man, whatever, it can’t be that bad. We gather my belongings and head on out. Matt remarked to me that the hostel reminded him of jail mixed with a summer camp. I open a same night hotel app and see a room at the Four Queens available for $110. The lady at check in was nice enough – however, she informed me that the only room they had available at my price point was a smoking room overlooking the Fremont St. experience. I paid the $20 to upgrade to a non-smoking in the quiet part of the hotel. Vegas man, I swear. It’s like 2am at this point -- I get to my room, sit on the bed and close my eyes. I open them and it’s 11:00am. Ah fuck man, I gotta get to the Venetian. I hop in the shower, brush my teeth, and freshen up. Even if I don’t have clean clothes, whatever, I’m second in the main, who cares. Some interesting hands from the first part of Day 3:
I had two inexcusable punts in this tournament. This is the first one: I open 5h5c from LP, BB calls. Flop comes J62hhh. x/x. Turn is a 4x. x, I bet 50% pot, BB jams 15bb. I called – and immediately realized I fucked up, big time. He had 2 big chips in his stack that I didn’t see, making his shove effectively like 25bb. In addition, I didn’t have the 5h, I had the 5d. I really didn’t ask for a count or double check my hole cards. Villain turns over 64o and holds. In my defense, I literally didn’t know what ICM meant at the time. Whoops.
Someone who I recognize from poker TV jams 22bb UTG. I’m in the CO with JJ, I ask him how much it is, he’s talkative and seems genuinely comfortable/down for me to call. I fold – I run into him a few days later at the Aria, he tells me he had AA there. I believe him.
CO opens, button instantly jams 30bb effective. I’m in the SB with TT and 25bb – live reads, we’re flipping. I call for all in my effective stack, CO folds, button has AQ. I hold. He’s not happy I called with tens. Oh well, sorry bro, gg.
MP opens, CO 3 bets to 7bb, button jams 20bb. I look down at 2 black aces in the big blind. I reshove, MP folds, CO calls off his 20bb stack. I’m up against AQ and QQ. I hold.
Even with my atrocious punt earlier in the day, I’m the chip leader again. We’re down to about 15 left in the field. UTG opens, I 3b AKo on the button, he jams 20bb, I call. He has 99, a king comes on the flop and he’s gone. It’s day 3 of the main and we’re playing 5 handed with 12 people left. Let’s fucking go.
Button opens to 2.5x, I’m in the BB with A8dd, I flat. Flop comes A104r, I check, he bets, I call. Turn is a 7, x/x. River A, I bet 1.2x pot. He tanks, calls, I show, I’m good.
CO opens to 2.5x, I’m in the BB with 108dd, I flat. Flop comes Kd4x2d, it goes x/x. Turn is a Kx, I check, he bets 60% pot, I flat. River is the 4d. I check, he bets pot. I tank and let it go. He tells me later he checked back a weak king on the flop.
SB completes, I’m in the BB with J9o and I check my option. Flop comes Q108r. The SB donks out into me for 60% pot. I flat. Turn comes a brick and he leads into me for 60% again. I raise to 3.5x his turn bet, he thinks for a while then flats. River is another brick. He bets 80% pot into me. I tank for a while, then shove. He starts laughing and folds QQ face up.
Less than a week ago I was grinding buffet comps at Planet Hollywood. Now I have guys correctly folding top set to me. I’ve made it to the final table. I pick up a few small pots and the two shortstacks at the table get eliminated in quick succession. This is without a doubt the most pointless and just plain out stupid punt of my entire life: I open J2dd on the button into a ~18bb SB and a GTO robot with mid 7 figures in career earnings in the BB. Don’t do this, this is quite literally lighting money on fire. SB folds, BB flats. Flop comes Kh8h3d. I cbet, BB calls. Turn is the Kd, goes x/x. River comes a 7h, he leads into me for half pot. Whatever, I’m going for it – I put in a raise. He thinks for all of 5 seconds then calls me with KQh. Wow, I just punted away $50,000 in ICM. Jesus Christ dude, what the fuck. For the next orbit or two, I’m clearly pissed at myself. I get up after my button and do a lap around the poker room – I’m good. The monkey tilt is gone, and I’m ready to get back to playing normal ranges. Anyway, nothing else really happens for a while – I look down at AKo UTG and raise it up. Folds around to the BB, he thinks for a while, then jams for about 20bb. I snap, he has AQo. I hold. I’m now second in chips. We go on a 10-minute break. When I get back to the table, the prospect of a 5-way chop comes up. We’re all tired – and the pay jumps are very significant. If you couldn’t tell from this story, I’m a degenerate, but in this spot, I’m willing to reduce variance a bit. We run the numbers and come to an agreement – we all agree to take a very slight ICM bump to give 1st place a bit more money than his stack is worth. I just won $129,000 -- huh? This was my second tournament cash – not too bad considering that it was my third tournament ever. Maybe I should start learning how to play MTT’s now. I take $124,000 in a check and $5,000 in cash. I’m leaving Vegas in 4 days and don’t plan on coming home with any of the cash. The winner of the tournament’s a pretty cool guy and he asks if I want to crash in his guest room tonight… like yeah, if that’s a real offer, I’m down. I pick up my toiletry bag from the Venetian concierge and we hit the Uber. The next morning Matt picks me up at his house – I hit the Chase bank and deposit the $124,000. I take Matt and my other friend, Spencer out to the Sterling Brunch over at Bally’s – the entire time, Spencer just kept repeating “Davis, what the fuck”. I don’t know dude, seriously, what the fuck. I get a suite at the D downtown that night and (very) long story short I end up hitting $100 on a number at roulette at 5am. It’s time for bed. Here’s a link to my Hendon Mob, verifying my tournament result. Hopefully I see some of you guys at the WSOP in 2021. https://pokerdb.thehendonmob.com/player.php?a=r&n=783521 Davis
NOTE: This is FAKE HOCKEY. To talk about actual hockey, go to the latest Daily Discussion thread Trade Deadline Tonight will continue TONIGHT! The /hockey Trade Deadline Game is back for day 2! Starting today at 8:00 AM MT trading is officially open again. Trading will run until Thursday, January 30th at 6:00 PM MT. You are not late! You can still sign up at http://www.tdgdb.com When you are traded, change your flair on hockey-related subreddits and spend the week from January 31st through February 7th cheering for your new team. Here are this year's reporters, the people who will make things up break news of trade negotiations:
I yell at my Mom to hurry up as she tries to recreate the pokerstars Team Pro patch on my Run It Once hoodie. She flinches and pricks her finger with the needle. lol dumb bitch I think to myself as I dunk my tendies into Chik Fil A sauce. Tonight is my live cash debut. I watched all of Doug's Polker (lol) hands. I read all the UpSwing articles and browse this sub religiously. I would be an online crusher if it weren't rigged and if the rake weren't so high. These live donks won't know what hit them. I finish my dinner and snatch my hoodie from my Mom. "Have fun playing with your friends," she says as she hugs me. I want to tell her there are no friends at the table. There are only Sharks and Fish and I'm a Mother Fucking Great White. Instead I take the opportunity to remove her debit card from the purse sitting at the table. My $400 bankroll might need a little assistance against the live variance. I slip on my RIO hoodie over my UpSwing tank top, then finish with a Favorable hat. I check my backpack and find everything I need for the upcoming grind: granola bars, power bank, sunglasses, wireless headphones, 2 big Monsters, and my preflop charts. I get on the subway (Mom needed the mini van for church) heading to Encore Boston Harbor. I feel all the eyes of the commuters on me. They've never seen a man like me before: 140 LBS all muscle and discipline. I DARE someone try to angle me today at the table. I will fucking delete them from existence. I finally arrive, and walk through the resort towards the Casino doors. A security guard in a Red Jacket stops me. He points at my bag, "You can't bring that inside." Immediately my eyes get hot and I try to quickly blink back the tears. I get ready to explain that I have a medical problem and the items in my bag helps reduce sensory overload and high-stress inducing-- "You can't bring those energy drinks inside sir." "Oh." I take my Monsters out of the side pockets and throw them in the bin. The Security Guard nods, "Welcome to the Encore." Wow, what an asshole. He gets a little authority and goes on a power trip. I scan the casino floor for the poker room and find the sign. I take the escalators up and approach the front desk. "Hi, I'd like to play 3NL." "I'm sorry, do you mean $1/3 No Limit?" the Manager replies. I chuckle. These morons have never played online where the real pros are. "Yeah, that's the same thing as 3NL. It's what we call it online." "Right. Do you have a card?" I hand over my Driver's License. "Uh no, a Red Card. Do you have a Red Card with us?" I can feel the tears forming again. I told my Mom to write down everything I'd need to play and of course she fucks it up. I need a Red Card to play and she didn't make me one. Can't even fucking trust family. The Manager sees my eyes water, "It's okay if you don't. We can have one made for you. What are your initials?" "J. Z." I'm gonna fool this room into thinking Jay Z is here LOL. "You're all set. It shouldn't be too long. You're number 4 on the list." "Thank you." 10 minutes later they call me and I sit down. Everyone is drinking except 1 Asian kid with a face mask. The goofy MAWG with a big stack (about 300BB effective) welcomes me to the table as I sit down to his left. "Look guys we finally got a pro to teach us how to play." I can see through his laughter that he's afraid of me. He realized a human PIO solver just got position next on him. Unfortunately for him, I'm not here to give lessons. I give the Chip Runner $100 (I figured out an unbeatable short stack strategy) and go to the bathroom to go over my preflop charts. When I return, 30 minutes later, my chips are there and I'm ready to play. First hand, I get JdJh UTG+1. MAWG straddled so I'm first to act. I try to go all in but my hands are shaking and I drop $40 in chips before it goes over the line and Asian pro calls string bet. Bet is $60. It folds to MAWG. "Why so much?" he asks. I don't say anything. I close my eyes and curse myself for not taking out my sunglasses earlier. "You have Jacks?" he continues. I make a mental note to protect my cards better because clearly this dickhead is peaking at my cards. MAWG folds. EZ game. I slide a Red bird to the dealer as she moves the pot towards me. Our hands touch. She thanks me for the tip and calls me honey. I'm fucking in. Definitely gonna smash that later. 1 hour later I'm in the BB with 6c6d. It limps to me and I check. Flop is 7s6h5s. Check, I check to trap, checks to CO who bets $10. BINGO. Folds to me, I make it $50, LJ calls, CO jams for $200, I call with my remaining $40, LJ tank calls. LJ covers. Turn Ad. River Ks. I groan. No one wants to show first and floor is called. CO shows 75o. I think my set of Sixes are good. LJ shows 4d3d. What a fucking slow roll. I rebuy, this time to the max $300. These guys clearly don't know how to play, and they'll make even more errors deepstacked. Asian pro opens to $15 from MP. Folds to me on the BU with AdAh. I think about how I'm going to mix. 12.5% raise to $30. 16.8% raise to 45, 25.7% raise to $60, and 52.3% Call. I run an RNG generator in my head and decide on a Call. Flop J43r. Asian pro Cbets $15. I run RNG again and call. Turn 9. Asian pro overbets $75. I tank and wince, pretending this is a tough spot. 5 minutes later I turn to the Dealer, "All In." Asian pro snap calls and shows KsKd. I wait. River 5. I show and Asian pro mucks. Fucking OWNED LOL. Everyone at the table tells me Nice Hand. They ask why I didn't 3bet. I remind them I could have but I have to balance my calling range. "If I had like Ace Five suited I would have 3bet to like $73 so his MDF is really hard. MDF is Minimum Defense Frequency by the way. I figured it out with PIO which is a Solver. I node lock the scripts and run the trees and it gives me a balanced GTO aggregate." The table gets quiet now. No one is talking anymore. I try to think of a way to liven up the table. I see the Player across from me order a sandwich and I yell "LOOSEY GOOSEY. LOOSEY GOOSEY.". Everyone looks at me weird. Fucking normies. Another hour later I'm UTG with AKs and I open to $15. Asian pro calls in CO. MAWG calls in BB. Flop Q98. Check, I CBet $30 to apply pressure. I have a range advantage and this is a great board for me if I have Aces or Queens. Asian pro and MAWG calls. Turn Q. Check, I barrel again for $100. I can have AQ and QQ. Call, Call. River 5. Check. I'm sweating and I feel like I want to throw up. But I have to continue the story. I rip it in. All In $455. Asian pro snap folds. EZ. MAWG tanks... and tanks... I can't stop shaking my feet and my mouth is dry. MAWG flips over his cards. KQs. "Is this good?" I give him absolutely nothing. My phone vibrates and I nearly shit myself. "Fuck it, I call." I don't show my cards and pretend I didn't hear him. "I said I call." I stare at my hands. The Dealer waves to me "He said call." I freeze up. I'm in shock. Asian pro asks for floor, and I sheepishly reveal my cards. AdKd. MAWG gets out of his seat mad as fuck "Fuck you man. You fucking piece of shit. You slow rolling fuck." I don't know what's going on. Dealer moves my card to the middle and announces "Nut Flush." and mucks MAWG's cards. BOARD: Qs9h8d Qd 5d Floor gets security and they remove MAWG from the Casino before I decide to give this fat ass a public beat down. It takes me 30 minutes to stack my chips. My hands are shaking from the adrenaline. I have $1310 in front of me. I want to leave but I don't want it to look like a hit and run. I check my phone and see my Mom's text.
I'm going to bed. Good night Sweetie.
Perfect. "Sorry guys, my girl texted me and she wants me home," I tell the table. No one says anything. I rack up and cash out. I wake up my Mom and tell her to pick me up. On the way home I tell my Mom about how I beat a table full of pro players and the sick hand against the Asian pro and MAWG. I open my wallet and show her all the Hundreds. She asks what her debit card is doing there and I lie and say she gave it to me. Old age is getting to her. All in all, a great session. I got in the streets and mixed it up and came out a Champion. Round 2 is coming soon, and this time I'm coming for the $2/5 shit regs.
I thought I knew the meaning of tilt until tonight
Tonight was a very frustrating night. Played about 4 hours of 1/3 at my local casino. Aces cracked twice. Nut flush cracked by a boat on the river. And a few other coolers. Despite all of this, I’ve managed to claw my way back up to even(initial buyin of 100BB). Getting ready to call it a night when I decide to play my last hand on the button. I decide to straddle to 10. We wake up with pocket aces. Folds to UTG that is very loose and covers me and he opens to 25. Folds back to us on the button and we 3 bet to 75. Quick re-raise by UTG to 150 and we end up moving all in. We show our Aces and he shows Queens. Flop comes Qxx and we brick out on turn and river. I understand we can’t be results oriented, but I’ve never been more tilted by this game. I really felt that I played well all night. I just found that I was consistently getting coolered in the worst way. I understand variance is a real thing and a mother fucker. And normally I can take it in stride. But I just need an outlet to vent to after tonight. I’m sure I’ll be back on the felt soon enough, but right now it stings. Thanks for listening to me ramble.
[Let's Build] D100 starts to a campaign that aren't in a tavern
I'm tired of starting all of my campaigns inexplicably in a tavern. What are some other ways you've seen a campaign start? 1: You were all involved in a war that's now over, visiting the sight of one of the most gruesome battles. Maybe you're here because you lost someone you cared about in the fight. Maybe you wished you could have been in the fray, but were held back. Maybe you ran from the fight and guilt drove you back here. As the sun sets, the spirits of those long dead soldiers begin to reappear, all marching in the same direction. Will you follow? 2: All PC's were captured by the guards of a large city and sent to hang (the reason for this can be up to the player. Wrongfully convicted, career criminal, spoke out against the leadership, etc.). At the last moment, right before the lever is pulled, an arrow takes out the ropes and smoke bombs explode around you. You are quickly whisked away by your saviors, down a dark alley and into a secret hide away. Your rescuers reveal themselves to be the most powerful and feared criminal syndicate of the country, and your life has a price. A very large ship of theirs carrying illegal goods that they won't specify (stolen gold, drugs, maybe even slaves for an interesting twist) went missing in a cove, along with any groups sent to search for it. If you can find the ship, bring back the cargo, and not be caught by the guard in the process, you walk away rich and free. 3: The PC's are in a medium sized town, checking the local bounty board for work (why their here is up to the PCs). They quickly come to a disturbing realization: All of them now have a price on their heads. 4: An annual ceremony in the town takes place at the graveyard, unusually large due to the war-torn country. It's basically a carnival, where families gather around the graves to reminisce and celebrate the lives that once were. Chaos quickly erupts as the deceased relatives start clawing their way out of their caskets, attempting to kill their past loved ones. 5: beaten and bloodied, the PC's are left for dead, tied to trees in the middle of the forest by a local bandit group. What they didn't realize is that they tied you up right next to the mushroom circle of a local fey. She agrees to release you all on one condition: kill the bandits that have been ransacking her forest for supplies. 6: Inspired by elder scrolls, oblivion: You all are invited separately as illustrious guests to an esteemed and very wealthy manor. As soon as all of you enter, all of the doors slam shut and lock magically behind you. A disembodied voice is then heard throughout the manor: "kill eachother. The last one of you left standing will go free." Will they do as the voice commands? Or will they work together to uncover the mystery of the manor and escape? Could end very quickly, but has a lot of potential. Could even have player characters come back as undead if killed by another person, solely bent on hunting down any members that remain. 7: You are all attendees to a wedding. You each may or may not know each other, but you do know at least one of the couple. As they are trading vows, assassins burst through the doors, killing the couple before anyone can act. 8: The local university hires the party as body guards for a scholar who is transporting his revelatory research to the capitol. During the journey, the scholar is assassinated, and his research is stolen. Now the party themselves are the subject of much suspicion. If they can solve the mystery of the assassination and recover the research, their names will be cleared. 9: In various locations, though various circumstances, the members of the party have been captured to be sold into slavery. They begin on a slave ship headed to market. 10: Each player wakes up in a wooden box (a coffin) buried in a shallow grave. 11: For one reason or another, the party has all signed up for an arena, either they are placed on a team together to fight monaters, or pitted against each other (depending on your group). They can go through the arena or the arena can be interupted by something (an assassination, explosion in the city). Either winning the prize money, ir having arena officials be skeptical of them or asking for their help. So many option you can go, and it usually starts with pretty quick combat. 12: You see a man post a notice on the notice board, saying local mansion needs help defending against nightly hauntings. That night you go to saod mansion and find corpses that have been there at least a year 13: In Medias Res: The players are in a town, and the town is under attack! The Fighter's guild, mages guild, churches, and even the thieves guild are all rushing to help hold the line. 14: Everyone wakes up on a beach, surrounded by the aftermath of a shipwreck. 15: The characters wake up in a jail cell, their heads throbbing from the previous night's apparent bender. The guards want to know how an NPC died. Could either have the players make it up, or hand them pieces of paper telling them what they remember. 16: The players are abducted by aliens. They have to figure out where they are, why they were abducted, and how to escape. 17: Characters are all in a market when a merchant stands on a podium and begins to speak. He shows off some type of item (can really be anything you want it to be), boasting that it is completely priceless/extremely powerful. Out of the crowd, someone jumps up onto the podium, knocks the merchant to the ground, and runs off with the item. The merchant screams, "Stop them! I'll give 1,000 gold to whoever can bring them back to me alive!" The players give chase. 18: Characters are all in a market of about 100 people, going about their business. One by one, they each realize they've been the victim of a pickpocket. They look around and see that everyone around them is having the same look in their eyes. They quickly discover that every single person in the market has been pickpocketed, and no one noticed. Was it a highly organized criminal group? A magically enhanced rogue? A trick of an illusion spell? The PC's aim to find out. 19: Characters are all soldiers in a war, and have been gathered by a superior officer for a special mission. 20: Characters all died prematurely in the same event, the Fates/some deity is upset about it. They all meet in whatever equivalent of purgatory you choose, and are sent back to the mortal plane stop whoever is interfering with fate. 21: Characters are all on a trade caravan(for whatever reason) when it is attacked by X type of monsters. The monsters are more organized than normal, and all have some kind of badge/insignia that indicates allegiance to something. The characters can choose to investigate on their own, or will be requested to upon arrival at their destination, after the caravan head reports to the Watch that they distinguished themselves in the fight. 22: You are all travelling on a riverboat in a deep canyon to the furthest-most city on the edge of civilization. The riverboat is attacked by Kobolds (or any sort of enemy, this is a great chance to use something uncommon and exotic) on ziplines that steal supplies from the boats that ply the river. The players are the only ones capable of defending themselves and the boat. 23: You all wake in a field, lying in a circle with your feet towards the center, where the ground is scorched from a small explosion. Placed delicately in the middle of the scorch mark is a single page ripped from a journal. You know who each other are, but have no idea how or why you met, or how you got here. 24: You are all invited to a ballard performed by an incredibly famous bard. As the performance goes on, the PC's notice that everyone around them has been petrified besides themselves. The bard then says, "Now that I have your attention, I have a favor to ask..." 25: You are all invited to a Ballard performed by an incredibly famous bard. At the end of the performance, you walk out side of the theater to see that the town you were just in is deserted and overgrown. As the other patrons walk out, they turn to dust and collapse to the ground right outside, with the people behind them quickly following, not noticing what's happening right in front of them. The only people who survive going through are the PC's. They slowly discover they've somehow been teleported one hundred years into the future. 26: You are all invited to a Ballard performed by an incredibly famous bard. As the bard continues their performance, his entourage quickly and discreetly locks all doors and bars all windows. By the time the performance has ended, all of the audience is surrounded by 30-50 archers, all with crossbows at the ready. From the back of the stage, a lich comes forward. You are all to be used as a sacrifice to give life to a new lich. Can your party stop the cult and save the audience? 27: In a village far to the north, a group of onlookers gawk at the sky (your PC's included). They've always seen the northern lights over head, but never as spectacular as this! With mixes of purple, blue, and green bands intertwining and coalescing throughout the sky, the whole village is lit up by the bright light. But it looks as if the bands are getting....closer. slowly but steadily coming closer to the ground. Finally, as the bands of light sit just above the buildings in the town, you realize: each of these bands of light are a colossal cloud of wisps, at least a billion in number. 28: at the invitation of a royal gnome tinkerer, your party meets along with at least 20 other adventurers in a palace carved into a mountain. The gnome steps forward and speaks to you all: "I have called all of you here today because I need a crew of the bravest, strongest adventurers that this world has to offer. For I have developed a revolutionary new form of travel that will take us to places never seen before!" "I call it, the Star Sailor!" 29: The local university hires the party as body guards for a scholar who is transporting his revelatory research to the capitol. During the journey, the scholar is assassinated, and his research is stolen. Now the party themselves are the subject of much suspicion. If they can solve the mystery of the assassination and recover the research, their names will be cleared. 30: After going to sleep for the night in their separate domiciles, the PCs share a vivid dream. They open their eyes to discover they have all somnambulated to a small shrine to a forgotten God, in the nearby countryside. This group of strangers, frightened and confused, wonders why they were called. 31: In recent years a new phenomenon has cropped up: people throughout the land are being born with strange patterns on their skin. The PCs, each having a perfect holy symbol on their back, have been gathered at the temple for examination.
The PCs are all freelancers, and a mutual contact (a Fixer) has found a job for them which requires all their unique talents. They have to meet with the employer's representative (Mr. Johnson) to receive details and their initial payment. The location in question is at the docks, as the person will be departing on a ship immediately after the meeting. They are given details on how they will get paid after that.
There's a good reason this one doesn't start in a tavern. All of the PCs have run afoul of the gang that runs the local, and they have to either side with that gang's enemies (who aren't the PCs' biggest fans either), or somehow repair their reputation.
All of the PCs are in the employ of an eccentric wizard who does not leave his tower. Prior to this, they had never directly met - but a murder has taken place and their employer needs information to solve the crime. (Nero Wolfe)
You're an ex-military unit of Lawful Good PCs, and you found out that the general and his staff worship Bane (or another LE deity). Being the only witnesses to the evil, you are convicted of a crime you didn't commit. The campaign starts on the caravan to jail. (A-Team)
All of the party is on the same boat voyage, whether across a sea or an ocean, when the boat is attacked by pirates. If they're not defeated the pirates steal trade goods while their leader gives an intimidating speech on the other boat. The party now knows a) there are pirates, and b) what the leader of the pirates in this area looks like. Any NPCs on the boat spread word of the party's deeds when they reach land.
A scholar of the ancient, extinct cyclops race hired the PC's as body guards. They were ancient warriors who were immortal and had the ability to see briefly ahead in time. They became larger, stronger, and able to see farther into the future as they became older. You travel with him to the ancient cyclops ruins of one of their largest cities. After traveling a day and a half just to reach the center of the city, you arrive upon a circle that looks like it used to be a stadium of some sort. After walking into the center, he pulls a large vial from out of his coat, and smashes it on the ground at your feet. Suddenly, the buildings around you rematirialize, and your surrounded by a large group of extremely surprised cyclops, currently in the middle of a political meeting. You've been sent eons back to the past. Will you attempt to find the reason for their downfall, and try and save them? Or will you try and find your way back, ignoring their future demise?
A country with an incredibly storied past is known to pay adventurers VERY well, due to a long history of them being saved from peril by legendary heroes and dragon slayers. Word has spread of a highly organized group of kobolds terrorizing this country. They are not merely raiding trade caravans, their isolating settlements, taking over whole towns and making the citizens slaves. The PC's meet at the capital either to help, or earn easy money. They are tasked with taking out a nearby kobold compound, scouring the capital and probing it for weaknesses. They have been ordered to take back the kobold warchief head as proof of their deed, which will adorn a spike on the city wall.
Before leaving, the king sends his personal body guard, a rangerogue to lead you to this compound. He seems extremely reluctant at first, but the king forces him to go. He tries his best to stay as far from combat as possible, almost like hes looking to bolt at the nearest opportunity. During the course of the encounter, the kobold warchief catches the party by surprise, swinging a battle axe straight at the bodyguards head. The battleaxe literally cracks in half, with the bodyguard not even flinching. He immediately reaches behind on instinct and grabs the kobolds head, crushing it into pieces inside it's plated helm. After the party questions him, he reveals that he is actually an ancient brass dragon, as old as the country itself. He considers the country his home, and loves being a part of the humans. He has often protected them, or even spinned tails of himself defeating dragons that had been terrorizing the area, bringing back one of his own scales as proof. Almost every legendary warrior in the countries history was actually him, in human form. This kobold threat is new, though. They are the slaves of a red dragon, who heard tales that an ancient brass dragon had been hiding here. He wants to take him and his country as his slaves. It is up to the party to fight him and his slave army back, alongside the brass dragon.
The party has been conscripted to fend off a cult from overthrowing the local lord. The general of the army and the lord are vassals of a corrupt, failing dynasty.
Mad Margull’s Mysterious Menagerie and Miracles Show is in crisis – all the performers are desperately ill from the basilisk egg soufflé. So, the party meets as stand-in performers providing: Stunning Showcases of Strength and Stamina, Amazing Aerial Acrobatic Acts, Spine-tingling Sorcerous Summonings, Stupendous Stories and Songs, Accurate Archery of Apples atop Audience heads, and *Complete Conversations with Crabapple Trees…Tonight only!!!! Curtains close and the wagon cabin surrenders to darkness. The group of complete strangers ringed around the table links hands and are encouraged concentrate…concentrate…concentrate. The crystal sphere centered atop the table begins to glow, and the séance begins…
Doing their civic duty, the party joins together as an impromptu jury in a witchcraft trial.
Seeking free drinks, each has joined in as laborers at a brewery and wine-making faire.
A bolt of lightning sparks from the sky to the top of an individual and jumps from person to person in a busy market. For a moment all five (Four? Three?) people are enveloped in light and joined by lightning bolts. Afterwards, they appear unhurt and undamaged. Why them?
Each PC has a flashback to an event in there past that could have ended catastrophically but at the last second something happened. (Almost fell asleep on guard duty, and would have missed the Assassin comeing for the king. Or playing with a friend as a child they bump into an oil lamp in a barn.) But in the vision everything falls apart and they see themselves saying "I would give anything to..." after a voice in there head says "I've come to collect."
The annual goblin hunt contest. The local town gets together once a year, everyone signs up and is put on a random team. (The players are on the same team, but it was random) The goal is kill as many goblin's as you can. The time of the event Sundown to Sunrise, and takes place in the forest. Each person has two Firefly jar's attached to them to prevent friendly fire.
A meteor strikes the town next to yours a hour ago, the local guard is are asking any willing body's to help with the rescue, and see what happened.
A carriage large enough for the party pulls up and the door opens to let you in. There’s no one driving, no one inside and the carriage is pulled by skeleton horses. Do you get in?
You've all woken up in a grave yard, in holes 6 feet deep. One of you is currently having dirt shoveled on you.
The PCs were all hired by different people to do the same job. When they run into each other at the job site, the first question is "Why is this job so important that so many people are willing to pay for it?"
The PCs were all hired by the same person to do several different jobs at the same time. Each PC also received a note only to be opened when their job is done. That note gives the name of another PC (no two notes have the same name) and an offer to double their payment if they kill that person. (Best to save this one for groups that are okay at handling inter-party conflict, of course...)
The PCs were all members of the same criminal gang. They're picked by the boss to carry out an assignment. When they come home, the city guard/police have swarmed over the gang's hideout. One of the guards/cops is holding a list of known members. Time to relocate.
Each party member books passage on a ship heading for a local city. Each is on his or her own business. They're caught in a rift/wild magic surge/whatever you want and instead of docking at the target destination, the ship puts into a port far, far away from the original destination. From there, they can be in trouble because it's an enemy country, they can't get back because they don't have enough money, or some other hook you like to keep them there. This could also work with a merchant caravan or some other group travel method. large pieces of hostile geography could serve to keep the PCs in the new location at least for the beginning of the campaign.
Party meets in a casino. They're suckered, either together or individually, such that they owe more than they can pay to the casino's owner who is also a local fixer. He's on the hook to map out a stretch of dangerous, unknown country, however large you want. To get rid of that problem, he offers to outfit the party with what they need, including a cartographer if no one has a compatible background, and then bullies them into performing the mapping mission to clear their debt. From there, they can run into whatever hooks you need to start your campaign somewhere in the wild. and if they abandon the mapping mission as a result, then they have a villain chasing them (the casino owner) who can pop up when they least expect it.
For a less-then-good party (depends on each character's back story): The party is in prison, working at hard labor. They know each other's names, but not much more. they're on the same work detail, working outside the prison walls. Farming near a swamp, mining in a guarded shaft, farming in harsh weather conditions near a large forest. Take your pick. A monster runs through the work detail, killing the guards but leaving the party alive. Or a wild magic storm, or a war party from the local bandits or a neighboring but hostile country. Bottom line: guards are gone or dead, the coast is clear. Each party member is on the hook for a long sentence, guilty or not is up to you and their back story. They can get basic equipment off the bodies of the fallen guards and then it can either be a quiet escape into a nearby city from where they need to book passage out as quickly as possible...or a wild chase through a swamp or forest being pursued by angry guards and tracking dogs. They can escape outright or find a helpful NPC who hides them while dropping the first hook to your campaign in the process.
The party are all young adults in the same family. If races become a problem, then remember adoption as part of the back story. A low-rank noble family is easiest since those kids would be trained in straight D&D classes as part of their education -- knight, ranger, cleric, even wizard. rogues could be rogue-centric rangers or they could be bad-boy nobles who spend too much time with the wrong crowd in the local city so they actually develop first-level rogue skills. A creative backstory is required for each character. Once that's done, then something happens to the family. A patriarch is convicted of treason, the family is ruined and cast adrift. Or the kids unwittingly commit a crime -- they hurt the son of a local king, they accidentally release some long lost horror that was being kept beneath the family castle. Two other directions might be a peasant family, though this will require some creative back story-ing for why an entire family of peasants would be trained in non-serf skills. but if you can work that out, then the village could be ransacked or the family could go bankrupt forcing the oldest kids to hire on as caravan guards or something to support themselves and the family. The final direction would be an upper-crust noble family. Princes and princesses of a major nation. A coup casts the family out and the campaign is about regaining the throne.
The party are all low-level employees of a local thieves guild. They don't have to all be thieves. Fighters can be enforcers. priests can be back-room healers. wizards can be tool makers or simply in debt to the guild master and trading services for debt-reduction. again, dependent on a character-specific back story. The campaign starts when the players attend some kind of general meeting -- they're all at the neighborhood capo's tavern on separate business maybe (paying debts, paying tribute, reporting on operations, etc). A rival thieves guild suddenly attacks, mostly wiping out the PC's guild. The PC's an a very small number of unknown other survive and must escape the city before the rival guild finds and neutralizes them. That's why they stick together. They can run towards your first campaign hook if you make it part of one of their back stories, or they can run for the nearest safe haven and encounter the first campaign hook there.
(From DND memes, which got it from tumblr user probablyfunrpgideas) The players are a squad of government investigators, trying to prevent monsters from claiming new habitat. Making sure abandoned properties are sold and dont remain vacant too long, trying to keep people from stockpiling loads of alchemical/magical ingredients in one place, etc. Its mainly negotiation, but sometimes people have an interest in attracting dangerous entities for their own purposes.
Maybe your party dies in the middle of a campaign, maybe they died separately of natural causes. Either way they all "wake up" next to each other, in a cold and bleak mirror image of the regular world. You can all feel it in your bones. Something is coming. You have only minutes to talk and prepare before whatever it is will be there.
As it gets closer, you can make out what is on it's way. A creature standing at least eighteen feet tall is shambling awkwardly towards you. It is vaguely humanoid, with three legs of slightly different lengths all jutting from a central point at where it's pelvis would be. It has six arms, four of which are holding human sized cages (it can be more if the party is larger than this). It's hands bend in the opposite direction of a normal humans, curling sickly out from it's body. The body itself is deathly pale and malnourished, clearly showing the veins and musculature beneath the skin. It has a normal head, but is absent a face. It has sunken in skin where it's eyes would be, with cracks covered in dried blood at the center. A long, jagged crack in the skin also stretches across where the mouth would be. A spike twice the length of a spear is stabbed downward through the creatures ribcage. At the upper half of the spear, a lantern with a blue flame is attached. If the players manage to steal the lantern or kill the creature (it may be large and swing pretty hard, but it is practically unable to avoid attacks with its awkward gait and has no outside armor whatsoever. Removing the lantern from the creature will cause it to immediately drop to the ground, lifeless.), they will discover that releasing the flame sends them back to the material plane, in the middle of the wilderness. The lantern is still with whoever opened it, albeit it's no longer lit. They just managed to do something no other living being has ever done. They have obtained one of the lantern of the collectors, a literally priceless artifact that can bring people back from the dead, and traverse the dead realms. Now they just have to figure out how it works.
Strange groups of identical looking adventurers have started roaming the country, taking on assignments for very little money. You gotta figure out who they are, where they came from, and how to stop them before they take all your work.
A fallout new Vegas one. Basically the group all wake up in a doctors office with no memory, only a letter explaining they were delivering something to a location.
In the central city of the empire/nation, during a major celebration, the king is assassinated, and resurrection spells fail when cast on him. There is a major bounty placed on discovering why.
Your party is a bunch of strangers that has been framed for a crime. Now your group has to work together to prove their innocence and put the real culprits behind bars!
All members of party are found in strange place.. no floor, no ceiling, no nothing. They are just floating around. Suddenly, man dressed in black suit walks in, and proposes a deal. The party is going to hell either way, but if they help him out, he might secure them a way back to mortal realm.
All the PC's are in a huge open air bazaar in the center of a large desert fortress town (they do not need to know each other or be shopping together). Suddenly, a young boy (early teens) comes crashing down through an awning of a nearby stall, a short sword in one hand (still sheathed) as a merchant and several of the local guard chase him yelling "Stop, thief!"
The party is all half human and half other races looking for their shared parent.
All members of your party are part of the town guard. Monster attacks have been on the rise lately and a nest of goblins/orcs/whatever has been discovered and your party has been sent to wipe them out (along with other soldiers who, alas, don't make it.)
The PC’s all meet in a gnomish tinkers shop, looking to get their pocket watches repair. Oddly they all have pocket watches that have stopped on the exact same time.
All the PCs are going about their own business in the market square. Suddenly time stops and everyone and everything is frozen for 3 minutes, apart from the PCs.
All the PCs meet out in a field next to a large flat topped rock, having received a note to be there at this specified time and date. A flapping gushing sound starts softly getting louder and louder until thud, a body from the sky hits the rock. Clasped in the bodies hand is a note which reads ‘avenge me’.
/r/AskReddit - "Former Cult Members of Reddit, When Did You Realize It Was Time To Leave?"
I am a bot! Please send NotListeningItsABook a private message with any comments or feedback on how I work. EDIT: As of Wed Jun 17 17:31:43 UTC 2020, the post is at [122pts|14c]
I had a family of them spend an awful lot of time and effort trying to recruit me when I was younger, cos while still drunk from the night before, I answered the door to them and discussed scripture for a bit. They sent me Bible study guides, invited me over for dinner, all sorts. Shit was fucking weird, took me a while to twig what was going on and find polite ways to disengage with them.
I was raised as a Jehovah's Witness. I bought into everything they said hook, line and sinker for the first 25 years of my life. After a while, they were teaching me things that just weren't adding up. At first, I kind of shrugged it off but, over the years, things started to become a little much. Then they started introducing go-bags. Sort of a bag of essentials for when the end of the world comes. They wanted us to have enough supplies to last several weeks so we could escape civilization and live off the land. I honestly thought they were playing a prank on us and it would be revealed as a hidden camera joke. Nope...they were serious. I decided that day that being a JW was not going to be in my long-term plans in life. No fucking way was I going to be a doomsday prepper. Peace out!!!
I was raised in the Jehovah's Witness religion I left because I was tired of the pressure that was inside the religion. The thing that woke me up was doing some online research on the religion.
Raised a JW as well until my parent got kicked out for a third time when I was a teenager. One of my parents is still in it and high ranking. The irony is how seriously the currently active JWs are taking the current state of things in the world because they believe it was all prophesied in the bible, its all currently coming true in their lifetimes, Armageddon and paradise on earth is juuuuust around the corner. You know, the same claim they've been claiming for the past hundred plus years. *super deep eye roll*
Yeah I was a true believer having been raised in it. Similar thing happened where as I matured and started to reflect I found things didn't add up and found myself disagreeing with a lot of teachings. I also was struggling believe in God because I never felt his presence in my life; just coincidence. By then though, the cost of leaving was unbearable so I tried to pretend but it was short lived. The cover up of CSA was overwhelming so I stopped going. I was even accused of being under demonic influence for questioning things! The difference between a religion and cult is what happens when you try to leave. I'd say JW's stripping away your family and community and tarnishing your reputation makes it fall into Cult category amongst other things.
When I discovered that the watchtower bible and tract society (aka Jehovah's witnesses) protects pedophiles. The can of worms opened after I learned about the Australian Royal Commission.
Raised as Jehovah’s Witness and was disfellowshipped at 26. 30 years have passed and it still affects me it has made such a mess of my life. My parents cut me off at 25 when I was disfellowshipped along with all of my “friends” as they were all JW’s. I don’t have anything at all from my childhood it’s like I never had a childhood. Though married and settled now it still affects me mentally and the way I am in so many ways and on many days. I still have nightmares of dying at Armageddon and Covid has made it even worse. Imagine your parents cutting you off and never wanting to see you unless you returned and got gods forgiveness. One of them is dead now whom managed to see 3 times in 25 years by intimating I was interested in getting forgiveness. The other is alive and I see her occasionally but honestly it is out of a sense of duty as she is elderly as she is still a JW and if my Dad was still alive she would still be refusing to see me. The whole religion is sick and twisted. I loathe, hate and despise every last thing about that religion. I wish I could sue them for every last penny they have for the mental scars they have left deep inside me. I will never forgive them for what they did to me and my relationship with my parents or to my mental health.
Actually, not all people who leave are shunned. Of all the people I know that have left, only one is shunned by their family. My experience may be anecdotal, but I'd say it's the exception rather than the rule. I'm actually very close with my family. I was actually very scared of my familiy's reaction to my leaving. I probably would have left five year's earlier. I simply reached a point where I was living a lie by pretending I believed in their teachings. I disagreed far more than I agreed. I actually drove to the Kingdom Hall one Sunday and contemplated my life. I sat in the parking lot for about ten minutes and watched people go inside. I couldn't think of one reason to go inside that didn't involve what other people think. So I turned around and went home and never looked back. I told my mom several weeks later that I was done. If she didn't want to talk to me, that was fine by me. She actually took it well. She asked me a few follow up questions and that was basically it.
In 1998 I got involved (in a very light manner) with a cult. That was a time where I was living in UK and I was feeling very lonely. I was working in Kingston as a developer, just by the river and I loved the job. But I was so alone and without any help from anyone at that point in time (I had just broke up with my fiance too), that naturally, I needed to find comfort and friendship. I don’t remember how I met that young Polish woman, but I think she approached me in the train on the way to work. We talked about some things and then she asked me if I was a Christian etc etc. To make the long story short she explained to me that she was a member of the International Church of Christ (ICC) and she asked me if I would like to go to Church with her on Sunday or to do Bible study together. While I was frequenting Catholic, Orthodox and ‘Church of England’ masses when I felt like doing so, I knew that the ICC was a cult of sorts, so I told her “why don’t we start with Bible study in our lunch breaks, and then we will see if I will come to your church”. And so we did a few times. Basically, they use the same Bible as other Christians do, but they are all about discipline and following the word of the Bible to the letter. So even if Christ or St Paul might have used allegory or being sarcastic (or even funny) about something, they would take the meaning literally. They were black and white in their belief and I also really disliked their “requirement” of giving 10% of your annual income to their “Church”. Despite this, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and follow her in their church once, somewhere in the south-east of London. The mass was pretty nice, there was lots of singing and socializing. The people there all felt to me as being genuinely good people. Nothing really abnormal in them or even in the way the mass was performed. But when the time for getting the communion came (a sort of dry bread IIRC), the basket that was passed around fell off my hands! Of course, I felt really silly and bad about this, but on the other hand, I took this as a sign. In the Orthodox church, which is how I grew up, spitting out the communion or dropping it, is a major offense. IF God exists and wanted to give me a pointer as if I should have joined ICC or not, he would have chosen exactly this: me, throwing down the communion, even if it was by mistake, because he would know that I would react on this. Despite this again, and of course, with the untiring effort of my friend to get me in their cult, I agreed to visit a house in South London with her to do Bible study with some other ICC members. It was me, her and two more women present in the house, and for about 30 minutes we read the Bible. So far, so good. Then, one of the women there suggested to… baptize me. Of course, I was already baptized in an Orthodox church, but ICC claims that baptism from any other church does not count, because it had happened without the consent of the follower in that early age. They also claim that you can be baptized by any other Christian, not just by a priest. This actually does makes sense, because this is how the first Christians in the 1st and 2nd century A.D. were doing it too (ICC tries to recreate the first Christian life up to a point). But I wasn’t sure that I wanted to do that. Getting “baptized” by them, it would mean that I would become one of them. I needed time to think… I asked if there was a bathroom around. I visited the bathroom, and guess what: my period had just arrive. And while I have a very steady cycle of period throughout my adult life (28 days), this period has arrived just within 15 days of my previous one! And this is another major pointer for me, because again, according to the Orthodox Church you can’t be baptized, or get communion, or kiss the pictures of the saints if you have your period. Sure, it can all be a coincidence, and it could all be my own subconscious ordering my body to do things it wouldn’t normally do because of my underlying objection to cults. But no matter if it was all a coincidence, or my subconscious or God himself, I didn’t need another pointer. I did not get “baptized” by the ICC members and I never went to their mass again. Of course, the Polish friend did not stop trying to get me back (aka “bothering me”)… I decided to give her faith one more chance, but this time I was the one who was doing the preaching. One Sunday afternoon that we met up I told her a little story and asked her opinion on it. The story was a 300-year old Greek story about Saint Cosmas o Aitolos (aka ‘Cosmas the Aetolian’). During that time the Greeks were under Turkish occupation. St Cosmas was living in a mountain, in his monastery and he had the respect of both the Turks and the Greeks for known to be being a wise man. One night, a man knocked on his door and he said “Father Cosmas, please hide me! The Turks are after me, I committed a crime in the village at the planes… I killed a man tonight”. Cosmas replied “who did you kill?” and the man replied with a name. True enough, a few minutes later the Turks were banging on the door of St Cosmas. Cosmas hid the killer, and the Turks didn’t even bother to look at the monastery, as they were trusting the monk with his word because of his good reputation. Then, I asked my Polish friend what did she think about what Cosmas did. And she replied that what he did was wrong to give refuge to a killer and that according to the Bible he should have given him to the authorities. Then I told her the remaining part of the story: the man that was killed was Saint Cosmas brother, and yet, the monk forgave the killer in an act of immense love and care. She replied that this is not what the Bible says that we should do. That was the last straw, I politely told her that I don’t want to see her again. Through this parable and her reaction it was obvious to me that these people are making “dry readings” of the Bible and they don’t even understand the most basic Christian values: love and forgiveness. For the record, I'm an atheist these days.
They “expressed concern” that I was dating a non member, then told me to stop a bible study I was hosting at my house because I wasn’t “fully trained” yet, and might take away people from coming to the church sanctioned studies. I’m an atheist now.
I was a child and this was in 2001. I have HEARD that some of the blood rules changed but I don't know. The facts I have are from the adults involved including my dad and my moms sister (who is STILL a JW of course). She planned to have surgery so the elders gave her a blood transfusion refusal card to keep in case she was incapacitated and something happened. Something went wrong. My dad respected her wishes and the cult and made the decision she would have wanted. She died. Technically it was her choice, but again, CULT. She was disfellowshipped after she had my older brother because he was an accident, no marriage. She lived in Hawaii which was and still is VERY expensive. Her entire family cut her off and she had no one. My older brother got sick around the time she was dating my dad casually. He was in the military so he claimed my brother as his own for the medical care. Then I popped up so they got married. All was well until her mom got sick and she found out incidentally. She went to visit and got wrapped back into everything. I was in prek when she joined again so it was all I knew. My dad never joined which made it easier for me to leave. I found out about the RAMPANT sex abuse and payoffs after I joined reddit. Thats when I started doing more research and everything I found disgusted me. They dont want woment to work outside the home or have a higher education. That type of system clearly leads to abuse because the women have no way to take care of themselves if they leave. There are ACTUAL publications that have testimonials from women who were BEATEN by their husbands and encouraged to stay. Eventually, these abusive monsters ALL become JWs and that makes it okay. I'm still broken behind those people. Fuck every last one of them.
Ummm...geez, I don't really remember. It was five years ago. I think it was something along the lines of what I believe in now and where I'll turn to for spiritual guidance and fulfillment in life. Something like that.
this would be an amazing AMAIA
Haha, I appreciate your enthusiasm. I don't think my story is terribly unique. There are probably tens of thousands who have completed the fade. If you're interested in similar stories/experiences, you could mosey on over to exjw. There are many people there with similar experiences who would be glad to share their stories and answer any questions you may have.
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