I Woke Up on a Mind Flayer Ship… and Gods, My Eye Hurts!
William Conwell only wanted one peaceful evening: start a fresh Baldur’s Gate 3 run, make a character he wouldn’t hate in two hours, and, for once, actually get past Act I without deleting everything out of spite.
After endless tweaking, experimenting, and contemplating his life choices, he finally crafted the perfect protagonist: Vrinn, a half-Drow Storm Sorcerer with wild white hair, storm-touched eyes, and zero facial hair. A sleek, striking, “I’m absolutely the main character” kind of look.
He clicked BEGIN ADVENTURE.
The screen flashed white.
And William’s soul vanished from Earth.
Across the planes, on the world of Toril, fate was twisting.
A young half-Drow, Vrinn, had just been seized by Mind Flayers. Terror drowned out every rational thought as he was forced into a pod, a tadpole driven behind his eye. His heart couldn’t bear the shock.
It stopped.
His soul slipped away.
And at that exact moment, William’s reincarnating soul arrived.
Not gently.
Not cleanly.
But violently, crashing through the dying body’s fading life-force and slamming into the middle of the ceremorphosis ritual.
The result was something the multiverse was not designed for.
William awakens submerged in viscous alien fluid, lungs burning, mind fogged. Lights strobe. Flesh and steel writhe together around him. The Nautiloid groans as explosions tear through its hull.
And something wriggles behind his eye.
But what should have been the birth of a new Mind Flayer… isn’t.
The ceremorphosis sequence was interrupted, its biological rewrite colliding with William’s reincarnating soul. Instead of transforming him, the tadpole is forcibly fused with him, its instincts mixing with his consciousness, its psionic blueprint overlaying his human soul.
The Storm Sorcery meant for Vrinn is overwritten, the Weave itself bending under the strain.
In its place, new magic awakens, cold, psychic, alien.
A mind not entirely his own.
An Aberrant Mind Sorcerer, formed from a merger that should be impossible.
Dripping with mucus, breath hitching like a bad Wi‑Fi signal, and magic sparking at the edges of his scrambled brain, William hauls himself out of the pod. The Nautiloid is in full catastrophic meltdown mode. Somewhere, voices are screaming. Overhead, tentacles thrash through the sky like they’re auditioning for an avant‑garde interpretive dance.
All he wanted was to hit “New Save Game.”
Instead, he’s stuck in Faerûn, inhabiting a body that should’ve been deleted from the character creation screen, packing powers that read like patch notes from a bugged update, sharing headspace with an Illithid parasite, and nursing the sneaking suspicion that the universe clicked the wrong file.
Still, if this is the glitchy respawn he’s got, he’ll make it work. Maybe even have some fun. After all, if the multiverse shoves a cosmic horror into your brain, you might as well see what kind of cool tricks it comes with.
William_Conwell · Video Games
*Who hurts you!!* When Abraham Lincoln became the President of America, his Father was a shoemaker. And, naturally, egoistic people were very much offended that a shoemaker’s son should become the President. On the first day, as Abraham Lincoln entered to give his inaugural address, just in the middle, one man stood up. He was a very rich aristocrat. He said, “Mr. Lincoln, you should not forget that your Father used to make shoes for my family.” And the whole Senate laughed; they thought that they had made a fool of Abraham Lincoln. But certain people are made of a totally different mettle. Lincoln looked at the man directly in the eye and said, “Sir, I know that my father used to make shoes for your family, and there will be many others here because he made shoes the way nobody else can. He was a creator. His shoes were not just shoes; he poured his whole soul into them. I want to ask you, have you any complaint? Because I know how to make shoes myself. If you have any complaint I can make you another pair of shoes. But as far as I know, nobody has ever complained about my father’s shoes. He was a genius, a great creator and I am proud of my father”. The whole Senate was struck dumb. They could not understand what kind of man Abraham Lincoln was. He was proud because his father did his job so well, with so much enthusiasm, such a passion, and perfection. It does not matter what you do. What matters is how you do it – of your own accord, with your own vision, with your own love. Then whatever you touch becomes gold. Moral: No one can hurt you without your consent. It is not what happens to us that hurts us. It is our response that hurts us. *“Ships don’t sink because of the water around them; ships sink because of the water that gets in them. Don’t let what’s happening around you get inside you and weigh you down” Stay blessed*