Now, the reason Marvy is still on this useless rock is to recruit a woman named Pecola. She is an interior designer, so for once Marvy is personally invested. To this end, he talks to a woman having a stitch and bitch with her friends outside the inn. This woman, creatively named Woman, is supposed to provide Marvy a book, also creatively named Interior Design Book. This was a 3 p.m. on a Friday affair for the writers. But when Marvy speaks to Woman, Woman only tells him, “I hope the book I gave you comes in handy.” Now, you’re smart. It’s why you spend your precious time reading my deranged thoughts on old, bad games like this. So you’re probably thinking, “Woman almost certainly gave Marvy Interior Design Book on a prior trip to Middleport in which he Talked to Everyone.” You might not be thinking it in that exact phrasing because the Trumpian capitalization hurts you, but something in that spirit. Let me reassure you now that you are correct, as a comfort for what I’m about to do. Which, I’m sorry to say, is “go back and forth to the boat several times to attempt to reset the possibly bugged Middleport Book Club NPCs who won’t give Marvy the stupid book.” In this entire 10-minute span, did I once open the inventory to see if the book was already there? I wish I could say I did. Yelling yourself hoarse at a version of yourself from the very recent past for being incurably daft is really not as fun as it sounds.

Eventually Marvy just decides to go to where Pecola is supposed to be–the abandoned shack serving as the front to Warlock’s meth and saria den–and see if she just shows up regardless. And even though I do have the book already, she does not! Only at this point do I check for the fucking book and realize I had it the entire time, and also that having it does not seem to work. Well, what the fuck. Back to the boat!

It turns out, as is the case many times in this very well designed game, that sailing into port instead of teleporting does the trick. Of course, this means having to pull the Rudderless in a tight U-turn and fight three random battles in the process, but why shouldn’t that be the natural result of steering a boat? So Pecola is hanging out in the condemned building now, lamenting about the state of the flooring. Hard to argue with her there. Pecola is a cheerful-looking lady who looks like Ina Garten if she decided to fashion her hair into a beehive. She explains to Marvy that she has taken over this building that just “became vacant,” when it looks like it’s been empty and accumulating mold for Marvy’s entire life. “I was told I could renovate it, but it’s in such horrible condition…” This sounds like a job for Pecola’s most attractive gay friends and whatever power tools they have handy, in exchange for a really fun Middleport beach party and crab boil. And it turns out, Pecola’s newest and most attractive gay friend is in this room right now! “Wait a second… You… I know you. You’re the leader of the Seaward!” Ma’am. But instead of putting Marvy’s strong arms to work while she sits and watches him over the rim of a Tom Collins, Pecola decides to abandon this dump to fate and hop on board the Rudderless. “That pretty ship would be a nice break from remodeling this rundown house!” Again, no argument. She throws in almost as an afterthought that surely Marvy is fine with all this as a fan of hers–after all, he’s holding a copy of Interior Design Book, which it turns out Pecola wrote. I mean, it’s fine, but it’s no Cooking for Schtolty or How Easy Is That? Fabulous Ship Steering Tips. If this bit appeals to anyone other than me, I will be delighted.

We’re not talking about flooring anymore, are we?

With Pecola secured as the newest Seaward despite my best attempts to make a hash of it, Marvy wants to see what sort of services she offers. He assumes hydrangeas and orange tulips will figure in heavily. “Oh, you have some wonderful furniture…” Pecola says from her station at the back of the shops deck. Marvy hands over everything he’s been sitting on, including something called a “Chinchilla Stand”? Okay. Marvy doesn’t have any chinchillas to display yet, but give him time and he’ll probably recruit eight of them. In the meantime, Pecola now has a menu where Marvy can select display pieces from five categories: carpet, wallpaper, table, sofa, and display stand. Well thank goodness–Marvy has been getting sick of how brown this fucking boat is. He lays out his Tiger Carpet, natch, and his Chinchilla Stand, why not, and stands back, ready for Pecola to blow his mind.

And…nothing happens. Why are Marvy’s feet not being caressed by plush orange and black stripes? What the hell gives? He consults his True Strategy Rune, which indicates he should enter through the door next to Pecola, labeled the entrance to the “Ornament Room.” And it turns out Marvy’s décor choices affect this room, and this room only. Okay, fine, Marvy can live with a tastefully appointed room where he can display his trophies, aka framed photos of all his boyfriends. But guess what! The “Ornaments” referred to in the name are actually the décor items themselves, and they are the only things that can be displayed in here! Including a display stand that cannot have anything displayed on it! It’s like the baths, but Marvy can’t even get naked and wet!

I swear to God, if this game hadn’t given me Slowe in a dog collar and Ritapon it would be so fucking cancelled.

What a fucking disappointment. But silver lining: whatever mutant prospective recruits Marvy has in store will sting just a little less! With that in mind, Marvy struggles to steer the Rudderless over to the Nest of Pirates. Outside the entrance to Kika’s Pleasure Cave, a blonde woman is having it out with a couple of the pirates left here on desk duty. The woman, Tanya, is permanently pointing a finger at her own forehead in her portrait, as if to say, “This? One of these in here? Do you have one?” That’s basically the tone she’s taking with the pirates: “We are getting nowhere with this… I am just looking for a woman named Elenor. Do you understand me?” The pirates Kika has stationed in front of her cave are either dumb as rocks or think Tanya is a cop, because they insist they don’t know anyone like that. Tanya looks stymied by this wall they’ve put up, until Marvy pops up behind her and asks, “Do you have some business with Ms. Elenor?” He is still a boy, I have to remind myself sometimes. And Elenor is terrifying.

Tanya is almost flustered now that she’s met someone willing to help her, and stammers that she just wants to find someone who knows Elenor, because she wants to be her apprentice. Two Apples! Oh, happy fucking day. “Lady Elenor is my hero…” she gushes. I mean, I guess she’s in the right location for it. “I am constantly reading and studying, so that I might become even a little like her.” I’m not seeing near enough scotch or venom in this gal. She has some work to do. Which she seems to know, and blames on the fact that “self-teaching has its limitations,” and not her fundamental incapability of being a salty drunken crank. Marvy will of course only make these introductions if she first agrees to sign her life away to a war, which seems reasonable! Tanya is young and dumb and thus agrees to this. She isn’t the first!

As much as I want to keep putting off the plot, it continues right inside Kika’s cave and I’m lazier than I am petty. Narrowly. We cut to a meeting underway in the candlelit dank of the pirates’ tavern. Kika tells Marvy, Lido, and Elenor to drink up. Well, Elenor didn’t need her go-ahead, which she says herself, and Marvy will never drink in the presence of another human again because his trust in others has been completely broken, but Lido will do some shots, I guess. Especially because he’s working up the courage to ask, “Now… Is it finally time?” Yes! It’s time for shots, motherfucker!

What Lido actually is asking is whether it’s “finally” time to retake his precious Kingdom of Obel, like he’s been an exile king his whole life and not, like, a couple of weeks. Elenor and Kika look at each other and each grunt in the affirmative. Nobody asks the opinion of Marvy, you know, the literal actual King of Obel. Elenor does look his way to at least tell him what they’re all talking about, like he’s a child and needs it spelled out. Lido adds, “We have assembled a decent amount of forces. We should now be a good match for the fleet that has secured the kingdom.” First of all, get a load of this “we” shit. My dude’s sole contribution to this entire process has been making the inevitable take longer because no one likes him. Second, enough forces? Marvy could probably take Obel with a bag of mushrooms from below deck and an hour of Kevin’s baking services. Elenor insists that it won’t be easy but that reclaiming Obel will be a “big step forward” for the Seaward. Hey, guys? It seems like you already decided to do this without Marvy’s input, so trying to sell him on the plan just seems insulting.

I spoke too soon. The reason Elenor feels the need to convince Marvy is that he, for once, has actual leverage. “So then,” she asks, “will you return the Golden Seal you were entrusted with earlier?” I feel like I have said my piece on the goddamn Obelian succession, but I cannot help myself: if, to be recognized as the legitimate ruler of Obel, Lido needs physical possession of a buttplug THAT WASN’T EVEN ON OBEL TO FUCKING BEGIN WITH, he doesn’t deserve to be king at all. All of that said, in no way has Marvy ever wanted to be king of the backwater that birthed some of his least favorite people, and at no point has he actually needed the Golden Seal to command anyone’s fucking respect. He hands it over–walking all the way past Lido to hand it to Elenor, I realize, and giggle at his pettiness–without any approval from yours truly, and I’m so happy to see the back of it I don’t care about not being consulted. Elenor tosses it to Lido like she can’t wait to be rid of it either. “This…should be in your hands, King of Obel. I’m sure you’ll need it to rule your kingdom in the future.” The shade this tanked bitch commands! A master. To Marvy, she adds, “Don’t worry. You’re already a great leader, even without that thing.” UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE.

Elenor should just keep it. Or give it to Kika.

With the ugly business of making Lido an authority figure again taken care of, Elenor asks, with an apology for “checking in so many times,” if Marvy is sure about their plan. Again, this is the first time Marvy has been asked anything. He’s so caught off guard by her suddenly caring about this that he’s all, “Of course,” without thinking about it. But Elenor needs him to be super duper sure: “Think a little bit about what you’ll do…if the worst should ever happen.” I don’t know, will his meager possessions to Rita and be free of this wretched life once and for all? Make arrangements for this entire boat and everyone on to be set aflame as it carries him into Valhalla? Marvy’s honestly probably given this more thought than most people.

Speaking of how little Marvy would miss anyone or anything on this mortal plane, we cut from the Obelian Kingmakers’ Council to Ramada, traipsing through a dark dungeon somewhere, accompanied by his extremely ugly peacock pet. He and the bird stare as a voice from one of the cells groans for help. I don’t know why the fuck Ramada would be poking around down here unless he were expecting to find someone, but that doesn’t stop him from jumping out of his skin. “It’s me… The Governor…” the, uh, Governor says. He’s also labeled “???” in a text box in which he says who he is. Also, nobody would say, “It’s me, Job Title.” His name might be Gary Governor. “What did you say?” Ramada asks. He was pretty clear! And it’s not that dark in here, and Ramada has met the Governor before!

A Black Screen of Clandestine Mission Briefings later, Ramada asks, “Are you sure you want to entrust me with this?” It’s fair to wonder–nobody has ever been sure about trusting Ramada with anything, including taking out the garbage or picking a place on Grubhub for dinner. The Governor tells him, “It doesn’t matter who… If I can just stop Cray’s insurrection… And, if possible, let His Majesty know…” I love the idea of it being optional to inform the monarch of an insurrection. Let’s save the king from being beheaded in the capitol gardens, and if we can, let’s loop him in on this! Plucky Ramada is all ready to carry out this critical mission, and turns to leave. Yeah, just leave the Governor in here to die as it seems like he is–Ramada would totally break him out, but he left his lockpicking tools in his other bird! But then, oh no! A familiar voice calls out to Ramada from behind, “What are you doing here?” Except the Governor’s cell was at a dead end, so this person who may or may not be Graham Cray was either lurking in one of the cells or he is a Dracula and was using his ability to turn into mist. Anyway, that’s all from Ramada for now! I hope for his sake Cray is not a Dracula! Marvy, however, does not.

The meeting re: Lido actually being fit to rule over more than his underwear drawer left a sufficiently bad taste in Marvy’s mouth that he considers going back to hunting C-list recruits for a bit, or possibly picking up a new hobby, like voodoo doll felting. He instead settles for wasting half an hour micromanaging the wardrobes of his conscripts and playing the local markets. When he is absolutely sure he doesn’t have anything better to do, Marvy instructs the fleet to set sail for Obel.

The simple task of sailing the ship from one nearby island, it should go without saying, is needlessly difficult and frustrating, but 20 minutes later, after the pride of the high seas here has U-turned itself away from Obel’s dock five or six times because it sensed I wanted one more random battle, a cutscene shows the Rudderless gliding over the water toward its birthplace. Nico shouts that the Kooluk’s second fleet is “straight ahead.” It’s three boats, for the record, but I’ve been calling the same number a fleet when they’re my ships, so fuck me. Elenor indicates they should proceed with their plan, and to that end, King Lido walks onto the Rudderless’s bow. He is, I’m sure to Molesley’s delight wherever he is, finally wearing his best kingly regalia. Unfortunately, our man here is about seventeen shades too white to be anywhere near said regalia. He looks like a fucking Benetton ad, but with a purple bow around his waist. “I am the King of Obel, [Lido] En Kuldes!” he announces, without the benefit of anything that would carry his voice to anyone who cares (which would still be no one). His speech continues as we see the approaching boat from the point of view of Flarey Sue, Molesley, and their ragtag band of Obelian resistance fighters, and yes, they can somehow fucking hear him from a mile away: “Here I come! The land of Obel shall be mine once more! My blood shall serve Obel once again!” Flarey Sue somehow does not mutter so loudly her dad can hear, “I’ve been here THE WHOLE TIME.”

Yes, I know I should try watching another show.

Waluigi and Ema–remember them?–go from looking intensely disinterested in this production to raising their fists, Waluigi crying out to the others, “All right!! Everyone, just hang in there a little longer! Nyah! I’mma gonna win!” Flarey Sue, I guess to her credit, turns around and tell the couple what an enormous help they’ve been in organizing the home team. Molesley echoes this praise, while not missing the opportunity to call them foreigners. “Oh no, it’s just our sense of justice that made us do this,” Waluigi insists, while his wife is morose and silent and just hates her entire fucking life with an intensity I’ve never had for anything, not even Shion. “Please, there’s no need to praise us, really. We did what we had to do.” That couldn’t say PRAISE ME any more clearly if he wrote it on his white undershirt in puffy glitter paint. Flarey Sue notes this, thanks them again, and calls out to the crowd, “Come, my people of Obel! Now is the time for us to stand together as one!” Molesley adds, “Let us have faith that His Majesty will be victorious!” Okay, one of them seems to be advocating for beating up those Kooluk ironheads over there, and the other seems to want to put his eggs in the King Lido Might Not Disappoint Me This Time basket. Count me extremely reluctantly as Team Flarey Sue here. Said ironheads kind of get spooked and run off at the sign of these mostly unarmed civilians yelling excitedly, so maybe it’s a wash.

Flarey Sue senses a new presence and turns around just as Mizuki teleports in. “Wh-Who are you?!” Molesley, who has definitely met Mizuki before, asks. Flarey Sue, of course, recognizes her, making the three minutes I spent hunting down the recap link kind of a waste. Mizuki and her denim babydoll dress hand Flarey Sue an envelope. “This is a message from the Lady Tactician Elenor. Farewell.” And she’s gone, while I’m stuck on “Lady Tactician,” like Elenor is pushing tubes of lipstick around the strategy board instead of tiny liquor bottles chess pieces.

On one of the Kooluk ships, Old Man River is staring down their enemies from inside his cabin with tiny windows. That’s still stupid. He also says they should proceed with their plan. Look at all these little nerds! So prepared! I bet everyone has little index cards with their roles neatly outlined! And we’re back to the Seaward in the war room, and if everyone here has helpful index cards, there’s no way Elenor made them. (Seems like something Agnes and Desmond would team up on.) “Listen up!” Elenor is saying. “This tactic does not allow any margin for error.” Boy, do I have some bad news for her about the people she’s addressing. She hasn’t even gotten into the fucking plan yet when a random pirate rushes in to inform her that the ships at the harbor have pulled out (hee hee) to engage them. Elenor sighs and returns to, I assume, what she was going to say in the first place. “All right… We’ll split up in two. Marvy… Decide who goes with who.” This tactic has no margin for error, but please decide now, with no prior planning, who will be responsible for enacting it to perfection! I want to blame this on the sauce but it’s possible Elenor just loves winging it.

In practice, Marvy is being asked to assign parties to the three ships in their fleet, and also to send the Gaien ship (which is a cuck and has no name of its own) with either the Rudderless or the Grishend. I heed the True Strategy Rune and keep it with its big-dicked older brother. I’m sure Kika will survive on her own. The rest of my prep is mostly making sure the people with good magic are manning the cannons (by the way, why does that even matter when it’s just loading premade shells into a cannon?) and making sure I don’t have anyone in the boarding parties who I just stripped naked. This would have been a major problem if I’d left the arrangements alone from the last time I did this, because I’m a real fickle bitch and a bunch of the recruits that felt useful back then are now dead to me.