Word: Pithy

 

pithy

[ pith-ee ]

adjective,pith·i·er, pith·i·est.

1. brief, forceful, and meaningful in expression; full of vigor, substance, or meaning; terse; forcible: a pithy observation.

2. of, like, or abounding in pith. 

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                  Chris paced along his dressing room. He had turned the air conditioning as high as he could to keep his nervous sweating in check. It had limited effect, but at least it would keep the obvious signs hidden from the audience. He glanced over at the pile of note cards again. Thoughts flashed through his mind.

                  Should he change anything? Was there a better way to say what he wanted to? He had to forcefully remind himself that the answer to those questions was “no.” At least, not so close to the speech itself. At this point, trying to change anything would likely lead to total failure. And he had spent so long working on the speech that it was crazy to think that anything more could be done to it.

                  He had packed everything he could into that brief speech. A few minutes was all he had, and he had done his best to make every word as powerful as he could. Even the smallest words was carefully chosen for maximum impact. To change even one would ruin the entire thing.

                  No, there was no chance of improving anything. Maybe if he had another month, but now it was as good as it was going to get. That did not help Chris’ mental state. The speech was fine, but he was not. He knew he had nothing to worry about. He had practiced so many times in front of dozens of people. He knew he was ready. Just because this speech could easily determine the course of his entire future was nothing to be worried about.

   He just had to leave all that out of his mind and focus on the words. That was what mattered. Not the extremely powerful people who would be watching him. Or the rest of the people who were also giving short, meaningful speeches aiming for the same thing he was. Many of whom were probably better at public speaking than he was. But that did not matter, right? He had worked damn hard for this, and he just needed to put all that effort into his words. The words that he had spent almost a year preparing.

   He stopped pacing. He took a deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves. He kept repeating the words of the speech in his mind, going over every word, every syllable, every inflection and tone he would use. As he let himself go, focusing on the speech instead of his nervousness, he could feel himself begin to unwind. He was not completely relaxed, not by a long shot. But it was enough to not seem like a nervous wreck who was in the middle of a constant panic attack. That was already much better than just a few minutes ago.

                  There was a knock on the door. Someone called for him, telling Chris that it was time to deliver his speech. He took a long, slow breath and retrieved his note cards. He was as ready as he was ever going to be. He just hoped that was enough.

   ***********************

   I'm not very good at public speaking, and would never be able to stake my entire future on a single speech. It wouldn't matter how much I worked on it, I just wouldn't be able to deliver it properly. 
   

Word: Debuff

 

debuff

[ dee-buhf ]

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noun

1. (in a video game) a category of spell, skill, or item that decreases characters’ attributes or abilities: Rather than fighting with them directly, the tarot cards are used for debuffs.

verb (used with object)

2. (in a video game) to decrease a character’s or characters’ attributes or abilities with a spell, skill, or item: The goal of this build is to debuff enemies and then wade in with melee.

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               Nick had long dreamed of being summoned to a fantasy world. Once he actually had been, he found the experience lacking. He was supposed to have been given overpowered abilities and been surrounded by cute girls. Oh he had been given an ability that could potentially be powerful, extremely so. But now, while he was just starting out? It was not terribly awe inspiring. And the complete lack of cute girls was particularly grating.

               He looked over the dingy tavern-like building. The place was filled with adventurers, but none of them fit into the “cute girl” category. Oh sure, there were women, but most of them looked like they could rip him in half. Oddly enough, even those who obviously leaned towards the magical side of combat looked like that. It was baffling.

               The only thing more baffling was the only person who did not fit the bill, and how said individual was being treated by the other adventurers. It was a teen boy, not much younger than Nick was. He was also tiny, both in terms of his physical stature and his presence. The guy was going from group to group, obviously trying to join one. And every time he was flatly rejected.

               Nick could guess the general reason. This world liked things that were big, powerful and easily noticeable. Why use a dagger when you could have a greatsword? Why use a small firebolt when a huge fireball was right there? It was why Nick had not been treated well by his summoners. And going by how the small guy was being treated, his abilities fell into the less flashy and instantly destructive school.

               The teen noticed Nick, sitting alone. Nick grinned and waved him over.

               “No luck forming a party, huh?” Nick asked once the guy sat down.

               “No. I guess it’s the same with you?”

               “Yup. It sucks, doesn’t it? A life of adventure filled with beautiful women and vast fortune. And no one of it goes to guys like us.”

               Nick’s new companion nodded. Nick continued talking.

               “So, why does nobody want you? Oh, I’m Nick, by the way.”

               “Weird name. I’m Cer. And nobody wants me because I’m a mage who can’t use any damage dealing spells. Not because I don’t want to, but because I just can’t. I’ve tried.”

               “Damn, that must be rough. What can you use?”

               “Debuffs.” Cer said. “I can weaken enemies in a few different ways. I know it’s not as great as throwing lighting or fire, but…”

               “Are you kidding? That’s a great set of spells!” Nick meant it. Back in his original world, debuff spells had been his bread and butter in games. Not flashy, but so very useful if used correctly. “Anyone who can’t see the value of lowering a monster’s stats is just an idiot.”

               Cer looked at Nick with wide eyes. “Y-you think my magic is useful?”

               “Super useful. A well timed debuff can turn a tough fight into a sure win. You can help save lives with that kind of magic.”

               “Save lives? But how? I can’t use barrier or healing magic.”

               “No, but you can weaken a monster’s attack power so it can’t kill a person right away. And lowering something’s defense? Well, that’s just amazing.” Nick said. Cer looked confused. “Look, say it takes me ten seconds to kill a monster normally. But if you debuff its speed or defense, then it might only take me, say, six seconds to kill that same monster. That’s four extra seconds that I can use to start dealing with the next monster. A monster that might otherwise reach an innocent person.”

               “Wow. I…I never thought about that.” Cer said. “I was always told that magic that doesn’t hurt a monster is useless.”

               “Those guys are dumb. The way I see it, any extra damage that’s done due to your debuffs count as your damage just as much as the warrior or mage who inflicted it.” Nick paused and thought for a moment. “Also, I’m pretty sure things like poison counts as a debuff. Maybe you’ll be able to learn something like that someday. Anyway, if you learn how to use your magic right, you’ll be super useful.”

               Cer was quiet for a moment. “You really think so? That I can be valuable?”

               “Oh sure, easily. How about we team up and I’ll see what you can do?”

               “I…I think I’d like that.”

               Nick nodded. Cer might not be a cute girl, but this was only his first potential teammate. And it was important to have a bit of male companionship, if only for the sake of mental wellbeing. Yes, he could see this team up leading to many great things in the future. 

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Never underestimate support and utility abilities. They can be just as important as the damage dealing stuff when used correctly. 

Word: Skookum

 

skookum

[ skoo-kuhm ]

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adjective Northwest U.S., Canada.

1. large; powerful; impressive.

2. excellent; first-rate.

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               Dr. Marshall was in over her head. Sure, on paper she was just having a therapy session with a new patient. No different from any other person that graced her clinic. The problem was that the patient she was seeing was a seven-foot-tall wall of muscle that wore a very colorful costume, and made a living fighting villains, monsters and the occasional alien.

               He was one of the greatest heroes in the world. His face was on the front page on a weekly basis. Dr. Marshall’s son had three toys modeled after the man. She had watched him do impossible things with a smile on his face. Everyone loved him.

               And he was sitting on her couch, struggling not to cry.

               She let him talk about his life. Well, a heavily edited version of his life anyway. At first, she had been skeptical as to why he needed a therapist. What kind of problems would a man who could lift buildings have? Then he started talking about his problems.

               His parents had been borderline abusive. His size had gotten him picked on at school. His powers isolated him from his peers. And after he became a superhero? Well, she had gone through five full pages of notes in an hour. The man was hurting in ways that were all too human.

This was going to take a lot of work to get through everything. Mental traumas were never easy to deal with, and he was repressing so many of them. It was a wonder that he had not snapped and hurt someone. And Dr. Marshall was not sure she was the right person for the job. She was not sure anyone was. But right now he was a patient, and she would do her best.

               He took a deep breath as he finished unloading.

               “Sorry about that, doc.”

               “Oh, no, no. It’s fine. It’s why I’m here. It’s always good to get all the baggage aired out early on.” She said. “It’s an important first step in dealing with any problem, no matter who it is.”

               He sniffled and wiped away a half-formed tear. “Even so. Thanks for listening to all that. I know it was a lot, and it must’ve been hard to listen to me rambling.”

               “Oh, trust me, you were not rambling. I know when a person is rambling. You were, hm, you were venting. Letting all that built up emotional pressure finally find a place to escape. That’s good. That’s healthy. And I’m here to listen to all of it. Now, obviously I can’t exactly relate to say, stopping an alien invasion, but I’m still going to listen. Sometimes that’s all a person needs, really.”

               He shifted on the couch. The heavy wood creaked under his considerable weight. “Even so. Thanks for everything.” He wrung hands the size of baseball gloves. “And for not treating me like, you know, me.”

               She gave a small smile. “I will admit I was a bit star struck when you came in here. But once you told me what you’re here for, you became a patient. And I do my best to help my patients. I could tell right away that you wanted to be treated like anyone else, so that’s what I’ll be doing. Well, provided you want to move forward with future sessions.”

               He took a deep breath for a moment. “I think I do, yeah. I do feel a bit better, and all I did was talk.”

               “That is quite literally what I’m here for. But, since I am treating you like anyone else…” She nodded to the clock with a wry grin. A grin that he matched with his trademarked enthusiasm.

               “Right, sure. I bet you’ve got a lot of people to see. I can respect helping others like that, even if it is because it pays well.”

               He stood. The couch groaned and seemed to get half an inch taller once it was no longer supporting his massive frame. He headed for the door.

               “So, doc, see you next week?”

               “Of course. Next week. Same time. Well, provided work doesn’t get in the way.”

               “Let’s hope.”

               And with that, one of the world’s greatest superheroes left Dr. Marshall’s office. This was definitely going to be an interesting case. 

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I would think superheroes are in particular need of psychiatric help. I mean, come on. They have super powers and are regularly subjected to things that would mentally and emotionally cripple everyone else.  Spiderman alone has so much bad stuff happening to him that it's a wonder he can still function.