altimit | ⬣//A SINGLE CRACK LETS THE LIGHT IN.

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⬣//A SINGLE CRACK LETS THE LIGHT IN.

  >>UNTITLED ROOT TOWN
  //
  >>FUTURE
//
>>PROGRESS?
  //
  >>HE HUNGERS
  //
  >>Zelkova Corner

        ⬣//BRAVELY SAILING INTO THE UNKNOWN
      

As they say, fortune favors the brave. Five lucky players took part in a Limited Quest: The Mysterious Sky Islands, in which they discovered a brand new Root Town. While the team was largely successful in their efforts to make the mysterious floating town in the sky habitable, not everyone embraced the spirit of teamwork on this journey.

When you gate in to this shiny new Root Town, you'll notice something curious: it has no name. Its name simply displays as "???" in every context menu and there is no signage around the Root Town itself that points to its true name— rather, the name it had before they came along.

Whispers on the wind tell of an evil wizard in flowing white robes who ruthlessly boiled the village elder alive. With him died all of this mysterious Root Town's lore and history, and in its place are tales of the monster who robbed this land of its identity. The elemental sprites that populate this village refuse to speak their name, simply wishing you "good luck, have fun!" as you turn to leave.

While on your journey to check out the island, you'll notice how unstable the bridges are. Unstable might be putting it lightly, because for some unlucky souls, crossing the wrong bridge means plummeting to your death. It seems that whoever was put in charge of constructing these bridges didn't give a damn about structural integrity.

The local sprites are pleading with adventurers to assist them in building better, more stable bridges, but bridging the gap between one island and the next is not a job for a single person. If you have enough of a heart to heed the pleas of the sprites, you'll want to work with your fellow players to get the job done. All the wood, nails, and rope you need to construct better bridges has been helpfully supplied to you by the sprites. You could always sabotage the project too, of course, but what kind of person would you be if you did that?

        ⬣//BUILDING THE FUTURE
      

The professions system has been added to fragment. Rejoice, busybodies, for there is much furniture to be built and dubious potions brewed.

In celebration of the new crafting & gathering system, a crafts festival is being held in the Unnamed Root Town. Take care not to plummet to your death while traversing those rickety bridges.

Players are encouraged to set up a booth of their own and trade their unique handcrafted items with their fellow adventurers. In addition to being supplied with enough level 1 and level 2 crafting materials to give the crafting system a spin, the local NPCs are running a contest encouraging people to come up with their own for a chance to have their creations canonized as real crafting recipes.

To submit your own recipe ideas, you need only fill out this handy form:

Recipe name:

Recipe category: Alchemist, Carpenter, Chef, or Jeweler?

Which two items does your recipe call for? Choose two items to combine. Only gatherable items (refer to the professions page) can be used.

Effect: What does this item do, if anything?

Description: A brief description of your lovely new product.

Recipe name: Recipe category: Which two items does your recipe call for? Effect: Description:

Submit your recipe contest submissions here.

        ⬣//ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO STEPS BACK
      

Fragment's beta test has seen its fair share of unusual bugs and unintended features, and with the latest update bringing many new changes, it's inevitable that some things have broken behind the scenes.

If two players happen to log in at the same time, they might find their avatars swapped with one another's. Thankfully, this issue doesn't lead to the unpleasant exchange of deep-seated memories or anything of the sort, but getting used to a body that isn't yours takes time. Thankfully, this particular bug resolves itself when both players log out.

The windy town of Unnamed Root Town is generally quite scenic and pleasant, but there's just one issue. It's far, far windier than it should be. If the rickety bridges don't kill you, the gusts that intermittently blow across the sky islands might knock you off your feet if you don't watch your footing carefully. Thankfully, the crafts festival on the southernmost end of the island hasn't been impacted by the severe winds. Among them is one voice that you don't recognize: a voice that promises a death, gruesome and bloody, in the days to come.

To everyone's relief, the carnival and its notorious hall of mirrors has packed up and left Lumina Cloth, but your past hasn't finished haunting you. The foul winds carry whispers of the past along with them, uttering words and phrases uncomfortably familiar to you. They're the voices of your past, the voices of people you've known, loved, and lost. Covering your ears won't keep the voices out of your ears. Nothing will.

Finally, on the more mundane some of things, professions have a few kinks of their own that need to be worked out. Occasionally, a crafted item won't come out quite right, instead resulting in one of the following "items":

Alchemist: Truth Serum. Become unable to lie for 24 hours.

Blacksmith: Whatever you're enhancing transforms into a denim disaster. Introducing your new "body" armor, "leg" armor, "head" armor, and "arm" armor.

Carpenter: Mirror Mirror. Reflects the person you're most afraid of becoming.

Chef: Durian Delight. A succulent durian pudding that reeks so strongly that its stench can be smelled all across the Root Town or Area you're occupying.

Jeweler: Crystal Ball. Breaks after one use but allows you to read another player's thoughts for five minutes.

        ⬣//WHAT ARE YOU, AN IDIOT SANDWICH?
      

With crafting in full swing, a certain admin has been lured out of his hidey hole by the smell of delicious chef-prepared meals. Hien is hungry, and you will feed him.

Chefs are not limited by the recipes they know like some professions are, so players are encouraged to think outside of the box and combine unique ingredients to cook up something truly special.

Taste, however, isn't the only important part of a perfect meal. Chefs looking to impress the big man himself are expected to present their culinary delights to him with pomp and finesse. You need to impress Hien if you want to gain more from this venture than the participation prize of a chef skin.

Those who successfully woo Hien with their delectable dishes will be given an additional prize: a little black pomchi pet to accompany their avatar around Root Towns and Special Areas. Hien will be giving these out at his discretion, so you better suck up to the dogboss in charge if you want a pomchi of your very own. If you catch Hien in a good mood, he may even agree to give you a different breed of dog if you ask nicely.

Feed the local Hien here.

        ⬣//ZELKOVA’S CORNER
      

Hello, everyone! Can you believe it's been an entire month since our beta test began? Even though we've already been through a lot together, we've still got three months left! I'm rooting for you all!

As of today, the level cap has increased from 25 to 50. That means new armor and weapons will be available to you! Get out there to different Areas and start leveling up! But don't forget to stop every once in a while and enjoy your surroundings, too. Which reminds me—don't forget to check out the new Recreational Areas! We have a beach and hotsprings for you to enjoy now. I hope everyone continues to have fun exploring!

We've also opened up the GP shop, where you can create your own special armor set for a certain price, along with a few other things. Please check it out!

Oh, and don't forget to use these three new greeting cards I've made! Here they are! Make sure you use them so you can connect with your fellow players! We're all friends here, after all.

  >>Navigation

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh, that's because...

[Pausing as he summons Aitla, who comes trotting up to greet them]

Here. She'll stay still for you.

[Taking a seat next to Michel to peer carefully at the work.

It does not look like a grunty. But it's more interesting than sky town at the moment]

It looks cute...

[Complimenting for the sake of it? Something like that]

[ That effort gets a nod of appreciation, and he starts trying to refine the features to match Aitla's... with deep apologies (mine, not Michel's) to Aitla for the results.

Why is he not surprised that Sinclair has a well-behaved grunty? He glances sidelong at that praise, suspecting patronization. ]

Should I do one of you next?

[ This is a very gentle threat. Be honest, or else. ]

[...]

Mmm...one of me seems a bit--Can you?

[Look at that shining sincere face, Michel. Is he able to do it??]

[ That face could really get Sinclair out of almost anything, couldn't it? Except Michel's selective refusal to acknowledge how bad his art is. Michel nudges over a few pieces of wood with a sigh. An offering, if Sinclair wants to do any carving. ]

I'll try after hers. Does my newest muse have a name?

Aitla. 'Fire', in German.

[He'll elaborate a little as he reaches for a wooden block. Hmmm. He doesn't know how to do this but at least he wont cut a finger off in a game]

Aitla...

[ He remembers that, from the memory, and only his reflexive stoicism keeps the brief stricken look from his eyes. ]

I've always heard "fire", for "fire"— [ Ah. Damn autotranslate. He lets out a small huff and glances over at Sinclair as he works. ] Is it more archaic, or poetic?

[Carefully avoiding Michel's gaze. He knows. He's made his peace with some of it]

Mm..both? It's an Old Germanic name. Her fur looks a little like fire. [Just pointing out the gradient-like pattern of orange and yellow] Don't you think?

It does.

[ Michel isn't one to salt a wound deliberately. He nods, giving Aitla an intent look as he tries to scratch a few patterns onto the carving to convey the gradient. Hm... ]

Where did you hear that one? A book?

My sister named our dog. I was pretty young then, so I don't really remember where she got the idea from.

[There's a little bit of wistfulness there, an aching sadness that would never go away. But he wants to talk about his family in the moments where they lived and shone so brightly. He looks at the piece of wood, and works on trying to make...a duck. Can he do it from memory?]

[ He looks over at Sinclair with some worry -- but, the attentive look on his face doesn't feel like it has the edge of desperation that it had before. ]

It's a good name. Was she much older than you?

She would have turned twenty six this year.

[Scraping away at the wood, little by little. He's tired. But maybe not as tired as he was before]

Ah... about the same gap as with my brothers.

[ And, coincidentally, close to his own age. It's a thought that lodges awkwardly somewhere in his chest.

He leans over a little to make certain Sinclair is holding the knife properly. Michel might not be artistic, but he can make certain he doesn't hurt himself. ]

Mm. How much older are they?

[Oh, thank you. He'll readjust his grip accordingly]

Six years. And eight.

[ Better! Not that Sinclair needed it, but... he worries, alright. ]

[Look, sometimes you gotta look out for the boy with a hidden temper beneath all that fluffy hair. Sinclair + knives, name a more dangerous combo]

So did they take care of you when you were younger too?

[ "Take care of"... he has to think how charitable he feels like being about Georges. ]

Georges showed me how to use sculpting knives. I was six. [ There was yelling when Didier caught up, hah. ] What about you?

[ He doesn't know Sinclair's sister's name from the memory, he realizes. ]

Beatrice was the one who taught me how to read when I was a kid. Not my tutor. [Carefully scraping off another piece of wood...this is a very lumpy thing. What is it??] She's the main reason why my German is so good. [Sitting with her and listening to her read German stories and poems was one of his precious memories. A pause]

...he taught you how to use sculpting knives at six?

[ Ah, look who isn't going to be able to cast aspersions on Michel's grunty carving... cute. ]

They were new, and he was excited about them. [ In the spirit of brotherly fairness, if a little grudging: ] ...So was I.

[ Beatrice. It's nice to be able to put a name to -- well, not the face of that memory. But, the person. ]

What did you both read? I don't know many German books, but...

[Snap goes the wood. Sinclair looks at it woefully and then picks up another piece to try again. Urk]

...But a six year old with knives?

[Scary. He wonders how much yelling happened there.

He thinks about the books he read]

Mostly children's books until I got older. Siddhartha, The Glass Bead...things like that. It wasn't always German though. She read Le Petite Prince to me as well.

[ Sinclair's violence strikes again... it's fine, Michel has quite a stash. ]

I was a very prudent six year old.

[ Questionable. Didier was, however, a very high-strung fourteen.

Michel gives a little smile for that list of books. Some of those, he remembers from school. ]

Classics. I recall that one... the ending, at least.

[He'll be a bit more delicate this time. Somehow]

I don't think six year olds are ever prudent.

[Rip Didier]

Yeah. She made reading them fun.

[ Sinclair don't roll a crit challenge— ]

...Maybe not. But I never injured anyone. Although I thought Didier might, when he found us with them.

[ Giving Sinclair a tiny smile. He's still more than a little dubious that he should be prying about this. But it seems as though it's making Sinclair happy...? ]

What did she do? It sounds... like she would have made a good teacher.

Didier...?

[Michel mentions that brother a little less. He wonders if there's a reason for that. The age gap, maybe?

No crits for Sinclair because he never rolls them unless he loses apparently, but he works on carving the wooden block]

She was in business, actually. She was really smart and persuasive. She was good at getting people to listen to her.

[A good heiress. More than suitable to take up the mantle. In comparison, Sinclair was...]

My oldest brother. The... responsible one.

[ It's hard to know how else to describe him. That suits as well as he can hope for, really.

Michel makes a noise of acknowledgment as he puts the final touches on this Aitla-sculpt. It's... well, it's got four legs and a snout. And some features. ]

So, a natural head of the family.

[ Sinclair did have that kind of background, didn't he? ]

Mm. That was my sister too.

[Sinclair? Not at all. The baby of the family, always and forever. He knows now the lengths his family had gone to shield him from...everything.

He looks at the carving in Michel's hand and then at his own. Hm. Not a grunty. Not a duck]

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