Halloween 2025

Halloween and Walpurgisnacht are two personal holidays that I did not ask for. However, a combination of hubris and willful entanglement have made them something special for me. Both nights are marked by a candle-light vigil after sunset, followed by an “offering” of absinthe. They are not nights for me to “get to work”.

They are nights for me to be held accountable for what I have been given.

I have been stressing about this night. A Tumblr posting challenge took so much out of me than I thought, and work has been taking so much out of me, and my personal health is rockier than I thought, and earlier this week I almost fell asleep on the freeway coming home, and…

And Halloween is going to happen regardless.

Adiutor “stood” quietly to the side of the room as I laid out the table. Here was the obsidian mirror on its stand. Here was the cork coaster that the glass would be placed. Here was her casket and the [baubles] she likes most. Here was the black bowl in which the black candle would be placed. Here was something new to this placement, a token of [that persona] that I would be facing.

I sit here, typing this up, and realizing that I redacted the name/title. I think it’s because while the name/title fits, it doesn’t fit how I encountered him (gender-specific), and it feels like if I start calling him by that name/title, I will be throwing away everything that happened up to that point. The journey is just as important as the destination, dammit.

And the token is part of that journey.

So there it sat.

The vigil is simple. Three or four ice cubes in the glass, depending on size. A shot of absinthe poured over them. The glass is placed. The words are said. The candle is lit. The room lights are turned off. And here I sit in silence with Adiutor silently attending me.

No great visions happened. No strange things crawled out of the obsidian mirror. No thick shadows grabbed at my feet to frighten me. No series of events occurred that could be written in a way to entertain you or to increase my standing in your eyes.

But events did occur.

My soul was kneaded and pulled. Much like how you squeeze homemade butter to purge buttermilk, I felt myself seized and squeezed to force out… impurities. Emotions and grudges I did not realize I have been holding on to for so long that they had become part of my identity.

Each time Adiutor would calmly describe what I was going through and gave encouragement to let go of the burrs as they were being revealed. Some were easier to give up than others. Some surprised me when they were revealed to be not anything innate but a coping mechanism I was holding on to for far too long.

And then the candle’s wick fell over as there was now no more wax remaining to hold it up. It did not slide gently into oblivion, but threw itself down at a disconcerting speed.

Darkness filled the room, but only Adiutor and I were present to feel it.

In that darkness, I took up the now prepared glass of absinthe, said what needed to be said, and imbibed what had become medicine, sip by sip.

I prepare absinthe without sugar, and the formulation of absinthe I use is quite bitter.

It was so sweet, only eating straight sugar could be sweeter.

The waking ritual completed, I covered the table and went straight to bed. There I dreamed that I was participating in an immersive MMORPG. The guilds were preparing for a major game event in which the players would be jointly tasked to take down a “monster” that was threatening the players’ home world. The guilds had successfully blocked entrance to the game area to anyone they didn’t approve of, making this major event a private one.

I was one of those that was excluded from the guilds. They demanded that all players create characters according to a certain “recommended” build and play-style. Anyone that didn’t play according to their recommendations were deemed not good enough regardless of the effectiveness of the play. And yet, I had proceeded quite significantly in the game on my own and by the accidental assistance of random groups that would form spontaneously.

This world event was too large and too well blockaded for me to get a foothold in, though. So I sat on the outskirts, mounted on my avian mount, watching for an opportunity.

Another player came up beside me on the cliff’s edge. He was mounted on a black scaled wyvern and his armor was black and steel to match. I turned to greet him and held my breath. He and the two dozen or so others behind him were all mounted on various types of dragons and winged lizards. Despite their various classes, they were all wearing as much black leather, black cloth, and tarnished steel as their classes would permit. Their faces were painted black with white streaks across them. A guild host had come up behind me in complete silence.

A guild so infamous, no one spoke their name though everyone could recognize them on sight.

A guild known for being just as silent in return. They did not speak with anyone other than their own, and no one knew how to petition to join them. It was said that they picked their members from those outcast from other guilds. (It was said that they picked their members from the dead.)

The player that came up beside me moved to be within arm’s reach of me. All the others stopped a short distance away. He took the arm closest to me, lightly beat his chest, and then extended that arm towards me with an upright fist.

Somehow, I knew the gesture and what it meant. So I took my arm closest to him, lightly beat my chest, and extended my arm towards him with an upright fist so that our forearms made definite contact without being hostile. He was greeting me as an equal so I returned the sentiment.

Wordlessly, we returned to facing forward. The monster of the moment had arrived and the assembled guilds were preparing to confront it. In this (dream) game, the monster was randomly assembled from a wide variety of possible attributes. It was impossible to predict what would be its weaknesses and strengths. The same method that permitted the assembled guilds to blockade the area also prevented them from having massive numbers of players on hand. They would have to make do with forty of their number and hope that they have enough of a wide-range of defenses to accommodate for any weaknesses to their attacks. All the other players were there to prevent anyone not approved by the guild from engaging.

My vantage point was above the arena, high on the edge of a limestone cliff. I realized that the bulk of the nameless guild were out of sight of anyone in the arena, and out of sight of the oversized monster itself. Anyone looking this way would only see me and the one nameless beside me. But because of the way the sun was positioned, the nameless would be perceived as a visual glitch or trick of sight. Only I could be identified as an observing player. I tried to keep from smiling when I realized I was being used by the nameless as a disguise.

The nameless beside me turned to me immediately. A raised eyebrow spoke the question without words. I looked at him, smiled sincerely, and winked before nodding. He chuckled silently and we both resumed our watch.

The fight was underway. The guild had strength of experience, strength of end-game elite armor, strength of end-game elite weapons, and strength of a hundred-thousand battle strategies being given from the players observing but speaking through guild communication channels. Excellent formations. Well-practiced attacks.

It all went to shit anyway.

Their strategies only worked when the opponent they are fighting is predictable. For every action, a scripted reaction. Attacks are supposed to do damage, but these were either being repelled or were healing the monster. Okay, that means it was undead, so use healing spells on it! But healing spells didn’t do anything to the monster, but instead sapped the players of their own health. Okay, that means the patterns are known, until the players attempt to use their new found knowledge and find out the hard way that they don’t know shit.

I’m observing this from the cliff. I realize the monster’s nature and pattern. For every action any individual player could do, the monster was inverting the nature of that pattern against the player and the identity the player was holding at the time. There would not be any optimization of attacks because the random nature of the player made all attacks specifically personal.

The players are not fighting any external threat. They are fighting an external manifestation of their internal crises of identity. A fight, I know well, in game and offline.

A soft forced breath catches my attention. I look to the nameless beside me. He doesn’t turn to meet my sight immediately, but juts his chin at the monster before turning to meet my sight with a firm gaze. I realize he has come to the same conclusion. I nod in agreement.

In the arena, some players have already fallen too many times to be permitted to engage the monster further. The second reason for the guilds’ overwhelming numbers becomes clear. As players are disqualified, other guild members are already present to step in. Strategies are altered to accommodate the incoming skill set. Someone offline is consulting spreadsheets and modifying equations. Everyone is confident they will find the right buttons to push in time.

Attrition is wearing down the ranks and the monster is still at full health.

A light tapping noise happens directly behind me. I turn to see the nameless guild positioning itself behind me for a charge. But their charge would have me as the first player off the cliff with them behind me in support. Sure, I could disguise their presence up high, but there’s no way I could disguise them once all were in full sight.

The assembled member make a show of facing the nameless beside me. I turn and follow their gaze to him. Slowly, deliberately, he takes off a small black leather and steel buckler shield and slides a black leather belt through the hand grips. He holds it out to me.

I glance back at the assembled host. They are all nodding. All waiting.

I lift my weapon of choice for this game, a bow. I am a long-range damage dealer. Holding a shield would prevent me from acting. He holds the shield out to me with more determination.

In the arena, the guilds are being decimated. They are struggling to prevent non guildmembers from joining the fight. The outsiders do not have the advantage of coordinated attacks and by virtue of the monster’s nature, are causing more harm to each other and the remaining guilds than anything else.

I look at the arena, look at the shield, and realize I’m being asked to confront something I have always known for some time but refused to admit.

I pull myself up, and keeping my bow firmly held in one hand, I reach out and take the shield.

He lets go and I am surprised when another nameless is suddenly behind me. They had dismounted and worked quickly to take the shield from my hand and wrap the belt around my torso. They note which hand I was holding the bow in and wrapped the belt so that it would not interfere with drawing the bow. They buckle the belt so that the buckler shield is protecting my back. They pat me on the shoulder and then withdraw back to their position immediately behind me.

The placement of the buckler does not change my appearance. I have not been inducted into the nameless guild. However, I can tell my character’s attributes have been augmented by them. I am under the protection of the nameless guild and can now feel some of the communication between them.

They are all welcoming me as “Cousin”.

«Welcome, Cousin. Will you ride with us this day?» The “voice” of the nameless guild leader beside me was cold and comforting in my mind.

I place a hand on my mouth to remind myself not to speak. If I can hear them, then they should be able to hear me. «I will, if you will have me, Cousin.»

The nameless guild leader puffed his chest in proud acceptance. «You understand the nature of what we face. You do not have to explain, I saw it writ clear on your face. Are you willing to face yourself, Cousin?»

Isn’t that what I have been doing this entire time? For a moment I have the idea that I am dreaming, but the idea leaves with the breeze. «I am willing, Cousin. Is there anything different I need to do with you and yours, Cousin?»

He shook his head. «You know what you are, and that is the greatest weapon you have. We will work together, not for glory, not for trophies, but because that is what must be done. Only this I ask, when we enter the fray, you and you alone will attack first. Draw the monster uphill where the rest of us will be waiting. I will ride beside you to take any harm, but you must trust us, Cousin.»

I felt the snug fit of the belt and realized the buckler was enchanted. The damage from any hit I take would be shared with him as long as he was nearby. «Very well, Cousin. When do we ride?»

We both looked back to the arena. The guilds have called a retreat and have abandoned the arena for now. They are attempting to regroup outside of the arena while calling in more guild members from elsewhere in the game. There are ten or so independent players attempting to do anything to the monster, which is taking its time destroying them. Now that I was connected to the nameless guild, I knew that there were 25 other players on the cliff with me. We could ride at any time and be all accepted into the arena.

«We ride, when you do, Cousin.»

«Then we ride now.»

Silently, I rally my mount and dive off the cliff. With a huff of imperceptible laughter, the nameless guild leader dives with me. Behind us, with a sound like sliding fabric, the other nameless fall behind us in formation. Even though I am focused on the monster and determining where to make my first attack to get its attention, I can see the guilds in the staging area pointing with anger and horror as a silent assault of black and steel shadows pours off the cliff towards them.

Halfway there, the nameless host peels off and heads up the slope from the monster. I wait until I feel that my character has entered the arena and could now target and be targeted by the monster. I charge up an arrow with as much burst damage and pride as I could summon and let it fly at the monster’s feet.

Why the feet? Because I know my pride. If someone targeted my feet it’s because they don’t think me someone worthy of an actual fight.

The response was immediate. If it were not for the enchanted buckler, I would have been slapped out of the sky. I continued releasing arrows towards its general direction. Each arrow carried an insult or demeaning comment.

The monster quickly turned to face me. I now had its complete and assaulting attention. It did not like me and was very clear that it now considered removing me from the game its one sole purpose for existing.

The nameless guild leader and I turned and began racing up-slope. I threw the reins of my mount in his hand as I turned around and rode facing backwards to continue adding invectives to my arrows to keep the monster focused on me. As I thought, the remaining guilds had entered the arena with their most challenging members to regain control of the arena and to pull the monster’s attention back to their chosen champions of the moment.

The words I was using? All of the words that those same guilds said to me when they wanted to make sure I knew I wasn’t good enough to even be trained in their secondary feeder guilds, much less be recognized as a damn good independent player. The same words the guilds used to exile me gave me the power to take what they wanted most away from them.

The nameless guild leader made no vocalizations, but I could tell through the link that he was laughing with each of my outbursts. «Yes, Cousin! You know precisely what we are fighting! We will do what we must, but we will make our own sport of it!»

My character’s health was very low by the time we caught up with the rest of the nameless. The sprint wasn’t even twenty seconds and I was sharing damage with the nameless guild leader beside me, but oh, I was feeling it! The other nameless began their assault once the monster was within their range, but a few nameless were dedicated to healing players and turned their attention to me and the nameless guild leader.

We already knew from observation that any attempt to directly heal me would either damage me or heal the monster. But any attempt to use healing spells on the monster would sap everyone within range of their health. Instead, I would have to heal myself.

The nameless healers made their energy and mana available and talked me, though the link, through how to use that energy to heal myself. Because of the monster’s effects, that meant I had to see myself as someone worth healing, someone worth loving, someone worth spending energy on to restore and uphold. I had to love myself to save myself.

That was the hardest thing I ever had to do.

It hurt more than all the hits that damaged me.

It meant facing the wounds I kept open rather than letting them heal out of misguided pity.

I did it anyway. Because if my “cousins” had such faith in me to make this available, then the least I could do is justify that faith.

When I stood, fully healed, the nameless guild leader was standing beside me. He struck his chest with his fist and held his arm out towards me. With a tear-streaked face, I returned the gesture, but I was not shy or timid about making contact. The first time our forearms touched, it was as polite strangers. But now, it was as cousins, daring and testing as we pushed against each other.

He pulled at the buckler’s belt to make sure it was still secure, and then faced the monster which was now at half health.

«Shall we finish this, Cousin?» It was a sincere question, not a soft command. I had the option to stand down now that I had learned the truth of the monster and of myself.

«Yes, let’s finish this, Cousin.»

He handed me the reins of my avian mount and then mounted his wyvern. I noted then that the nameless guild leader was a mage that used a buckler and one-handed wand as his weapon. By all rights, he should have less health than I, and yet together we were able to withstand the monster’s assaults. He smiled as he felt my recognition of his stature.

«Alone, Cousin, you can only bear so much. But, together, we can withstand that which is greater than the sum of all our fears. This is the secret of our strength. This is why the guilds loathe us so. This is why we take from [the dead] they leave behind. They don’t know how to live. We don’t know how to die.»

In silent agreement, we turned our mounts and rushed back to engage the monster, to engage our fears, to engage those parts of ourselves that we flinch from.

In the aftermath, the nameless guild left as quietly and as unobserved as they arrived. I and the other independent players remained standing in the arena as the last vestiges of the monster was unmade around us. Our characters were permanently increased by the encounter. Some of us gained new skills. Some of us gained treasure. Some of us increased in power. All of us were pounced upon by the guilds.

Wouldn’t we like to join dedicated groups that could help us increase our power more? Wouldn’t we like to join dedicate groups that would share their power with us in return for us sharing our power with them? Wouldn’t we like to follow known and proven techniques that would make us the best players ever?

Some independents sported new tabards immediately. Some independents stormed away from the guilds as barely healed wounds renewed themselves. Several guild representatives approached me but once they got within clear sight of me, they paused their advance.

I realized I never gave the nameless guild leader his shield back. I reached up to unbuckle the belt, but the belt was gone. I looked over my shoulder to see that my back was bare of his shield. Could he had slipped it off of me as the monster died? The nameless are that quiet and unnoticeable when they want to be. So what was it that the guild representatives saw that made them not want to approach me?

One of them pointed to my chest. I summoned the character viewer and examined my appearance. My character was now wearing a thin steel chain around her neck, and from that steel chain hung an obsidian arrowhead. Obsidian is a rare material in the game, and players could make massive quantities of in-game currency for gathering and shaping the difficult material. The small, realistic-sized arrowhead would sell for an obscene amount of in-game wealth, if it were not bound to my character and thus untradeable.

It was not the arrowhead by itself that gave the guild representatives pause. But that the arrowhead was hanging off a blackened steel chain. The arrowhead was the symbol of my preferred character class, the bow-wielding ranger. But the combination of black obsidian and steel chain was the well-known harbinger of the nameless guild.

The nameless guild had marked me in their departure.

In the awkward silence of the settling battlefield, I heard a familiar “voice” in the back of my mind. «It remains only if you accept. You are not one of us, but you are close to us.»

I lifted a hand to cover the arrowhead. «Cousin, I accept. Call upon me when you need.»

I bowed as a polite and wordless gesture of acknowledgement towards the guild representatives and started walking away from them. Behind me a few of the guild representatives shouted derogatory words at my receding figure. Words that I kept in my pocket for the next time I have to face my insecurities.

I called my avian mount to me and saw that among the barding I had outfitted it with, there was a small obsidian pebble that had been drilled through to fit a steel pin hanging from the collection of beads I had placed as trophies of my travels.

To see it reminded me of the difference between the barding I was looking at and the barding on my character’s mount in the real world game of Final Fantasy XIV. Full lucidity rushed me like a gust of wind and I realized I had been dreaming the entire time. I held on to the obsidian arrowhead as the token of the dream and willed myself to wake.

And so, I did.

And here, I am.