Strange Experiment
Ziamel Srifal sat in his seat, eyes glued to the screen of his monitor as scrolled down the page he was surfing. He grimaced, reading every comment as he scrolled down. Someone had started a problem in the brony group again. A thread started for the purpose of confessions, was having the confessions posted used against those who confessed. Soon there were a few other people joining the perpetrator.
Ziamel sighed. Recently there had been a string of problems occurring within the group, mostly coming from the same members. The group was a regular group, dedicated to a show by the name of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. The show was considered revolutionary by some, but was seen as a great show by many.
Reasons for liking the show varied, from the great animation, to the great storyline, to the adorable creatures that appear and the morals taught with every episode that aired. The people who watched the show, self-proclaimed ‘bronies’ often meet up with one another, some of them even crossing states just to meet new friends.
Soon enough, people around the world get united just because a show, meant for the younger demographic, that brings out the best in many of them. A variety of talent is displayed by a large majority of the group, but there still remains a few who do not want a very deep involvement with the series.
Ziamel stopped scrolling for a short moment to increase the volume of his media player. He enjoyed Classical, but from time to time, he would go listen to Alternative music, if not Dubstep, Pop or Electroswing. He hummed the tune of Caravan Palace’s “Clash” as the volume increased. Satisfied with the current level, he turned back to reading the confessional thread.
He had only written a few confessions, shallow ones compared to the deep ones other members of the brony group were posting. He chuckled at one of the confessions. The person who posted the confession had confessed that he had a problem with time management, but still procrastinates no matter how hard he tries to manage his time. Ziamel felt that the problem could be easily solved, with stricter discipline and supervision from other people.
It was rather ironic, because Ziamel himself was not a man who kept to his time. However, he did not confess to the world about it. He knew how to solve it, and does so from time to time, but he didn’t like solving something that took very long to solve. His left eye twitched, a sign of irritation.
“People these days…” He whispered. It was four in the morning, and his roommate was sleeping soundly as he read on. “A confession isn’t something to take lightly.” Ziamel scrolled down, noting that someone had used a time management confession against the confessor. He chuckled. The person was too pure to be considered a troll, but yet, he takes jokes a little too far. Even a fire knows when to burn itself out.
It took all of his will for Ziamel not to fire back at the joker for being so mean to someone who was confessing about his problems. Ziamel wondered if people started confession threads merely for the purpose of insulting others. He shook the thought from his head as he reached the end of the thread. He shook his head. He opened his music folder and scrolled up. He double clicked on an mp3 file titled ‘Eagle Eye Cherry – Save Tonight’ and winced a bit as the loud music pounded at his ears. He lowered the volume, hoping his roommate wouldn’t wake yet.
Ziamel contemplated posting another confession about a problem he had been facing for a couple of months. He was one of those bronies that use logic to tell themselves that the ponies from the show existed, only in another dimension. He knew very well that the ponies from the show did not exist, but a part of him didn’t want to acknowledge that fact. He loved the characters from the show too much to care that they don’t exist.
Ziamel’s friends were giving him the heat for liking a show they described as for ‘faggots’. Ziamel wasn’t an aggressive person, but whatever words he said or typed out was full of venom whenever he is being made a fool of. He never really gets angry anymore, the only way to provoke him being insulting religions and mental pressure. He was feeling a lot of the latter. Ziamel often said he was fine, but he seemed to act fine so well, no one could tell if he was down.
Ziamel went back to the confession thread and wrote four simple words. A sentence of warning for those who dare aggravate him and anybody else for the fun of it, and a sentence of complete honesty, he typed out: “I wear a mask.” He read over the sentence, making sure that it conveyed the message he wished to deliver. He hit the ‘enter’ key and went back to his music folder. He scrolled down and clicked on another mp3 file, this one titled ‘George Michael – Careless Whispers’.
He grinned, savouring the saxophone intro before listening to the well written lyrics. Ziamel had enjoyed the song so much that he forgot all about the confession thread. One minute into the song, Ziamel reopened the thread and saw that his confession was liked twice, and there were an additional few comments below his. He sighed as he read the first one, noting that it was the usual group troll.
‘Mask? Somebody stop me! *Spins around to form a tonado*’ The troll wrote. Ziamel planted his palm upon his face, trying not to take into offense the response he received. He wanted so hard to correct the troll’s spelling, but he knew the troll was doing this on purpose to attract more people. The other two comments were much nicer. One was a confession from a rather soft person in the group, saying that he would stab someone should he be forced to. The other comment was from a boy in high school, scolding the troll for being mean.
‘Oi! Don’t bitch around dhere! Nopony likes your attitude, you faggot!’ it wrote. Ziamel grinned and shook his head. “You have no idea how hard you are going to get fired at now, don’t you?” Ziamel whispered. No sooner had Ziamel said that had two more people posted replies.
‘That’s pretty ironic, don’t you think, a faggot like you calling somepony else a faggot?’ the first one read. The troll was notorious in the group, going by the name of Fescesu Rahour. The second one was, ‘You must be new to this kind of shit. For the love of cheesus he’s been this way since he’s joined!’ The person’s name was a mess, Dane Gharroutan.
Cheesus. Good lord what. Ziamel sighed and typed out. ‘Do any of you faggots know the original purpose of this thread? Stop being assholes and bring your trolling someplace else.’ He hit enter and waited for a response.
His comment got a few likes and a reply, from the person who posted the second comment earlier, Dane ‘I don’t even. Dude, I wasn’t even trolling. Understand the fact that the whining bastard has been in the group for about four months!’
Ziamel’s logic took over. ‘Aye, I understand that, but why are you flaming someone who’s against the trolls instead of just flaming the trolls? SIMPLE SHIT YO!’ He hit ‘enter’ and loosened up a bit. He changed his music to ‘The Script - Before the worst’ and went back to the confession thread.
Fescesu replied to Ziamel’s post. ‘Let the little bitch learn his lesson you faggot. Both of these faggots don’t know how to adapt. But why did you have to join these faggots? You’ve been around long enough to know that my trolling is always effective against such people.’
Ziamel chuckled and tapped out rapidly, ‘No, fuck you. You realize how easily people get offended, yet you still troll around for your own pleasure. You’re the biggest faggot among all the other so called faggots.’
As soon as Ziamel hit enter, his comment received several likes. A comment from his friend commented a simple ‘^’. Ziamel grinned. He waited for about a few minutes, hoping that the failure of a troll would reply. He changed his music to another track by the same artist, this one titled ‘We Cry’.
The troll didn’t reply, which was what Ziamel had expected. He typed out another sentence. ‘Adaption? You haven’t even faced the fact that your trolling methods prove ineffective to a majority of the group! God fucking damn it, picking on the vulnerable ones is very low, even for you.’ He hit enter, and opened a new tab. Ziamel hadn’t been blogging for the best of a few weeks, and yet there were still people visiting his blog. He was surprised, but reminded himself that the views will never drop, even if he stops blogging.
He watched view count. There were fifty-three people who visited his blog today, the majority of the viewers from Russia, Germany and the United States. Ziamel contemplated writing a post, apologizing for the lack of activity on his blog, but decided against it. “Let them wonder.” He whispered.
He returned to the confession thread, noting that the troll hadn’t commented yet, and there were several other people posting confessions. Ziamel sighed. Why do I even put up with such people? They don’t even deserve my attention! Ziamel has been somewhat of a peacekeeper, but recently he’s been watching every member of the group like they were guilty of murder.
Heck, maybe I’ll be guilty of murder soon. Ziamel chuckled. He didn’t know when and why he started having thoughts and not the usual ones too. He thought of how it would feel like to murder someone who was hated, to get rid of someone who was always spreading the plague.
Ziamel shook his head. I’m not that low. That’s even lower than Fescesu. Logic and common sense were keeping Ziamel in one peace, but he felt like it wouldn’t last long with problems springing up all over the place. Though Ziamel didn’t have a single speck of authority, people knew when to start joking, and when to serious up. It was like he was a natural born leader, mixed in a place of good people with a side of useless ones.
Ziamel didn’t like it when trolls misuse the term ‘Love and Tolerate’. Often times, when caught in the heat of the fire, trolls would use this against others, saying that people should love and tolerate trolls because they were humans as well. Ziamel sighed, this time much louder than earlier. He glanced over his shoulder, noting that his roommate was still asleep.
Ziamel flexed in his chair a bit, and went back to the confession thread. The troll still hadn’t replied. Ziamel left the confession thread open and set his headphones down on his chair as he got up to get his journal.
He scratched his head while he scanned the dark room for his suitcase. Finding it right next to his bed, he strode over, careful on to trip on the pile of dirty clothes his roommate wouldn’t clean. He opened the suitcase slowly, careful not to the make the sound of it unclicking obvious. Among the files and stationary stood a little journal, about a quarter of the size of an encyclopedia.
He went back to his chair and put his headphones back on before sitting back down and setting his journal down on the computer table. He reopened his music folder, changing the song he was listening to, to ‘Periphery – One (Cover)’. Minimizing the folder, he flipped open his journal and started writing at a half completed post.
I estimate that my time as a sane person is numbered, it’s just that I don’t know how much. With the thoughts of the show, ponies and the group, among other reasons, bearing down on my back, I feel Pinkamena slowly seeping into my brain as time goes by. Soon, very soon, this will all be too much for me. I just hate how I keep wanting to solve my problems rather than just turning my back on it and walking away.
It’s weird, you know? Being in a brony group is like being part of one big family. Many of the family members would be good to the siblings, but there would still be the brats who would be around to fuck things up. It’s like my little cousins disturbing me while I study. It gets irritating even after a short while.
I’ve been in the group for months, and still, the troll Fescesu would not shut the fuck up. The things I would do if I get my hoov- hands on him. He isn’t the only one that’s been causing problems in the group. There are still several other people who don’t know how to even troll, but would spam things and say that they were.
People like these need to get a high five from an Exploder. The element of Kindness would surely disapprove of such unfriendliness to members in the group. In all honesty, I doubt the trolls would stop. It’s as if their lives depend on trolling as a source of food or something. Really, really pathetic to know that such people exist within a good community. *Sigh*. What can I do right?
Sanity level: 11%. I’m losing it. The longer I stay here thinking for a solution for such people, the more unstable I can feel my thoughts become. Adding to the fact that my school friends have been a bitch to bear recently, I doubt my sanity will last. Oh classmates, y u so silly? Like a lot of trolls that are actually faggots in real life?
Ziamel paused a while. He reopened his music player and double clicked ‘One Republic – Secrets’ The cello intro chilled him down somewhat, and he went back to writing in his journal.
Ponies are fun to share with others, that be true. But when what is shared with others is used against one another, you know when shit’s going to get down. Ziamel stifled a yawn before writing again. I can guess that there will be another few problems in the group that will surface in the group. The troll population, though minor, is thickening. I’m seeing more and more faggots come on just to mess with others.
I guess I should just stop here while I still can. I’m sure to think up methods to solve these problems the longer I stay awake. Sanity Level: 10%. Fuck that shit. I don’t even understand why I’m the only person who’s actually rebelling against these trolls. Do people not care for others now?
I don’t even know why I bother doing so anyway. It’s not worth having my sanity lost to. I-
Ziamel stopped writing as a notification appeared on his screen. He clicked on it, and the page refreshed, bringing him back once more to the confession thread he was at moments ago. There, with all the words in the sentence capitalized, was Fescasu’s response.
‘WELL LOOKIE HERE! SOMEPONY’S MAD HAHAHA! YOU’VE BEEN A FAGGOT FOR TOO LONG ZIAMEL, AND FIRING AGAINST SOMEPONY LIKE ME ISN’T WISE. NOT WISE AT ALL, GOD FUCKING DAMN IT! WHO ARE YOU TO SAY THAT MY TROLLING METHODS ARE INEFFECTIVE? SEE THOSE OFFENDED LITTLE BITCHES THERE? HOW IS THAT NOT FUCKING PROOF OF MY SKILLS? HAH! SUCK ON THAT BITCH!’
9%. Ziamel fired back, fingers dancing across his keyboard. ‘All caps won’t make you win you faggot. You troll vulnerable people, IF YOU DID NOT FUCKING READ EARLIER. You’re being a retard for not understanding the fact that your trolling really doesn’t work on many other people. Honestly, is that not proof that your trolling methods are absolute shit? “FIRING AGAINST SOMEPONY LIKE ME ISN’T WISE” ? Seriously? Since when were you the lord of all wise and shit? Go fuck yourself. Bottom line, you’ll end up friendless, and still remain a faggot.’
Ziamel chuckled, wondering how Fescesu would respond. Reopening his music folder, Ziamel changed to ‘Coldplay - Charlie Brown’. He felt that a bit of Coldplay could help at this moment. Even if it didn’t, at least it was better than repeating ‘Secrets’. The song didn’t seem to fit in with the current situation in the thread. Ziamel relaxed somewhat, not really expecting a response from Fescesu.
He refreshed the page, but the thread was no longer there. Taken aback somewhat, Ziamel refreshed again, hoping to god that the thread was not deleted. The page loaded, and his fears were confirmed. The thread was gone. Leaning back in his chair, he could only think of one person who would delete something to maintain peace in a group.
Ziamel wanted to slam his fist onto his computer table, frustrated that something that could be simply worked out was deleted just like that. He restrained himself. He didn’t want to wake his roommate up. God fucking damn it!
It was rumoured among some of the members that the person who wielded power over some of the threads was actually acting according to his emotions, said person being one Sir Nical Fane. Ziamel wanted no involvement whatsoever with said person, but he was sure the thread was deleted by him.
He went back to writing in his journal.
In an attempt to restore peace, one does not simply destroy everything and hope that things work out fine. Oh no, one does not do so. However, when one does do so, chances are, whatever survived the decimation would come back and bite you in the ass. I just hope that Nical is aware of that.
I’m trembling as I write. What the fuck is wrong with my hands? It’s kinda like caffeine withdrawal, albeit more serious. Ziamel stopped writing and looked at the barely readable squiggles he just wrote. He sighed, easing his trembling hands somewhat. When he wrote again, the words were intelligible.
Damn my hands. They’ve been rather twitchy lately. I’m not even sure why. It can’t be withdrawal, right? I’ve had my regular two cups for about a few months already, so I doubt it’s any kind of withdrawal.
Ziamel thought back to the confession thread earlier, the comments, the act of deleting the thread in an attempt to restore peace. “Such faggotry.” Ziamel muttered. His hands had gone back to trembling right after thinking of the thread again. Frustrated, Ziamel wrote one more paragraph before going off to sleep.
Damn it all! I’m going to sleep. These thoughts about the group and the problems really are driving me over the unseen edge. I’m down to about 7%, I guess. I can recover from this, but it might take a bit of time. It would be best if I stop visiting the group now, wouldn’t it? I’m going to go now. Until next time.
-Ziamel
Ziamel pocketed his journal, praying that nobody would go throw his pockets and discover what he has been up to. He kept his pens with him, and switched off his computer. He set his headphones down and snuck into bed.
Ziamel sighed as his head thudded against the pillow. “Hopefully shit clears out after this.” He mumbled before sleep consumed him.
As Ziamel shut his eyes, there was another being at work, albeit in another dimension. The studious lavender mare was up, despite the fact that it was early in the morning. She sat at her workbench, a strange device in front of her.
Twilight Sparkle had been working on the device for a couple of weeks now at the request of Princess Celestia. The request however, made Twilight wonder what would it most likely be used for. Celestia had asked for Twilight to make a gauge to check changes within a pony, be it emotional, physical, or mental change.
Twilight didn’t ask what the device would be used for, but she had been told a little thing by Celestia before she got started. “Through all the changes, one could see the breaking point of somepony. This would be a great advancement to our medical science. Should you be able to create such a device, you could save others by guessing exactly when somepony is going to snap.”
Twilight didn’t know why Celestia would even want such a device, considering how unicorns have spells that can be used to analyze somepony’s emotional, physical and mental change. She didn’t bring it up, and began on her project.
Now, all she needed to do was to get a test subject. Twilight would want to try it on somepony, but she wasn’t sure if the device would be perfectly functional. She could try it on some creature from another dimension, but she would be risking a lot. She prayed to Celestia that her interdimensional portal spell wasn’t rusty. She didn’t want to remind herself of the last time she used a rusty spell.
Twilight thought over for a moment, before finding out which galaxy would be suitable to acquire subjects. She levitated a book over from a bookshelf nearby, and opened it to the Milky Way Galaxy. She didn’t know which to choose, but she did know which stars or planets were being inhabited.
She flipped over to the next page, and a picture of the Solar System was displayed. The picture had sentences on the side of the picture, each showing the year the planets were made, distance from the sun, and the habitability of a certain planet. It didn’t take her long to know that the planet Earth had suitable conditions for life.
“Now what am I going to pick as a test subject?” She mumbled to herself. She conjured a spell, and a green map displaying certain parts of the world. Among the few places were Germany, France, and parts of Asia.
“These places really do have weird names. They might wield good test subjects.” Twilight thought over what she just said. Maybe just one creature would be good enough. I don’t think I could really control any more of something I don’t know much about.
Twilight levitated over a book from another bookshelf, opening it up to beings from another dimension. She hummed a tune as she read up on creatures that came from Earth, narrowing down the amount of creatures down to humans. “They seem to be the sentient beings of Earth. This could be a perfect test subject!” Twilight squealed with glee.
She looked over to the map and highlighted a few locations in yellow with her horn. She drew her horn across several parts of Asia, a couple of places in Germany and a spot in France. Twilight drew back, looking at the locations she had just marked. “Now all I need is to decide which location do I bring these humans from.”
Twilight levitated over another book, detailing people and culture in their own respective countries. Reading up a bit on Germany, she quickly eliminated Stuttgart from the map. Quickly running her eyes across Berlin, she knew Germany will never do. She eliminated Germany completely from the map, leaving only France and parts of Asia. The only place Twilight had marked was Paris, and she quickly marked it out.
Twilight sighed. With Germany and Paris marked off the map, Twilight turned to the parts of Asia. She levitated her book to study the Asian culture, hoping that the countries marked were suitable for her test. She had marked seven areas in Asia, spanning from India all the way to the Philippines. As she read, her grin grew wider. They seem to have perfect subjects! Now, to prepare a failsafe should anything happen.
Within half an hour, Twilight had planned out how she was going to teleport a human to her library and be able to restrain him long enough to put the gauge on. Twilight took a little more time to tweak her failsafe, hoping that it wasn’t riddled with too many holes. Should the human act aggressively, she would have to conjure a blackout spell. She wasn’t sure if a blackout spell would be effective against a human, but it was effective against other creatures in Equestria.
Twilight took a deep breath. “I need my coffee.” She muttered. Leaving the map as it was, Twilight disappeared out of her lab into the kitchen to make herself her coffee. While she was gone, the parts of Asia in which she had marked started flashing dimly like a beacon of some sort. Had Twilight been around, she would have cancelled off the experiment. One by one, the flashes started fading away. By the time Twilight had returned, India and Thailand had disappeared off the map. Unfortunately, Twilight didn’t notice.
Twilight slurped at her coffee as she descended the staircase, once more running her plan through her brain like she runs a comb through her mane. Twilight set her coffee cup down on her workbench, once more reading up on humans. The page she was reading detailed the dangers of a human should they snap or react violently.
As Twilight read, she started contemplating if she should call off the experiment, for fear of something unwanted happening in Equestria, and turned a page. The page detailed serial killers, wars, and terrorism. She shuddered a bit at the thought of having a serial killer in Equestria. She went over to her map, noticing that several of the marks were flashing dimly, but failing to notice a couple of countries wiped off the map.
There was only one country that wasn’t flashing. A little country that is often overlooked by other countries. A small, humble country that is slowly striving for success. Twilight grinned. She had no idea why the other countries were flashing, but she decided that one that’s not flashing would be safe.
She enlarged the country that was not flashing. She surfed over several states, picking a heavily populated one after minutes of surfing. Twilight didn’t exactly know who she wanted to pick out of so many square kilometres of city, there were possibly tens if not hundreds of thousands of humans in the city.
“I’ll pick at random. Let’s see what I can catch with my hook.” Twilight said, levitating her mug over for another gulp of coffee. She swallowed, and her horn lit a maroon aura. She shut her eyes in concentration, and soon a tiny hole formed in her laboratory wall. The hole didn’t remain tiny as it stretched out in diameter and size.
Twilight’s horn blasted a beam at the portal, locking the size to make sure the portal doesn’t shrink. Twilight let out a sigh as she finished her coffee and set her cup back down on her workbench. She grinned and rubbed her eyes.
“Well let’s see where this will lead to.”
Creeping into a dark room her portal led her to, Twilight tried her best not to bump into any obstacles in her path. Twilight’s horn lit with a dim green glow, and Twilight’s vision enhanced as her night vision spell went into effect.
A strange thing that this place is dark. Maybe the humans are asleep. Twilight looked at a window in the room, noticing that it was almost dawn. Looks like I’m going to have to move quickly. Humans wake up early. Twilight avoided more obstacles, including a pile of clothes on the floor, as she approached the bed of a sleeping Ziamel.
Ziamel was shaking his head in his sleep, as if he wasn’t agreeing with something. Twilight looked on for another half a minute as the fingers on Ziamel’s right hand twitched. This might be a good subject to test the device on.
Twilight took a deep breath and her horn was lit in an orange glow. A similarly coloured orange enveloped Ziamel, making his fingers twitch rapidly for a few seconds before it finally stopped. As Twilight lifted Ziamel from his bed, hearing a short sigh elicit from Ziamel as he was slowly brought over to the portal. Twilight watched for obstacles again, but she had to turn her head frequently to make sure Ziamel didn’t bump into anything.
If this human wakes up mid-levitation, I might have to bail out of this place and find another subject. There’s no telling what a conscious human can do. Twilight’s mind flashed back to the page about serial killers, wars and terrorism. She shuddered, before suddenly realized that her shuddering might influence the levitation spell.
Taking another deep breath, Twilight forced muscles to relax. She continued her slow walk back to the portal. Circling around the pile of dirty clothes, Twilight turned around in an attempt to reassure herself that things would go smoothly. Ziamel still lay enveloped in Twilight’s orange levitation glow, once more shaking his head as they closed in on the portal.
Twilight reached the portal, turning around to levitate Ziamel into the portal first. Ziamel floated in without a problem, and Twilight relaxed. She turned to check if there was anything out of place, anything that could lead to any clue of Ziamel going missing. Twilight turned to the window, noting that it was dawn. Time to make my exit.
Twilight trotted back through her portal, and focused on Ziamel for the moment. He was lying face down on the floor, right next to Twilight’s map. Twilight held back a giggle and restrained Ziamel by putting another spell on him. Twilight wasn’t sure if the spell would be effective against Ziamel, but considering how the levitation spell went without a hitch, she considered it safe to assume so. Ziamel’s hands magically bound together, as did his legs.
Twilight turned around and fired a concentrated beam at the portal, and soon it shrank back to its original, tiny size before disappearing altogether. Twilight sighed and took a glance over to Ziamel, who was rolled over onto his right side and snoring lightly.
“I’ll go get another cup.” Twilight muttered to herself. She left ZIamel to sleep as she trotted up the stairs, her coffee cup levitating behind her. As she poured herself more coffee, she wondered if the device will go well. Twilight shook her head. It’s wrong to doubt myself. Maybe the device could work after all. Twilight took a sip and wondered if she should name the device. Twilight returned to her laboratory, this time bringing her coffee maker as well.
Ziamel had rolled onto his back, his arms behind him. Twilight set her pot and cup on her workbench and levitated over the device. Celestia wanted to see if this gauge could detect a pony snapping. Isn’t that the same thing as sanity? Twilight inspected the gauge. It was a cylindrical meter about a foot long with several wires and restraints at each end of the meter. Measuring sanity is now possible. I just hope it isn’t lower than twenty percent. Thinking back to the serial killers in her book, she shuddered.
Twilight used her magic to lay Ziamel on his side, and lifted the back part of his green T-shirt. The cylindrical meter had a flat side, which Twilight put against Ziamel’s back and secured the restraints all across his torso and abdomen. Twilight used her magic to fuse together the wires at the top of the meter, and the gauge lit up. Twilight grinned, but knew it wasn’t complete just yet. She eyed the wires at the bottom of the wire, just near the base of Ziamel’s spine.
Twilight straightened each wire of the five wires out, before magically attaching them into Ziamel’s skin, and hopefully close to his spine. Twilight knew the wires would do no harm considering how there was no electricity used in the gauge. Pure magic was being used as the meter displayed several more details after the attachment.
Twilight inhaled sharply. She was excited that the gauge worked perfectly, but what she was looking at now made her worry. Upon completion of the wire attachments, a hologram screen appeared, detailing the condition of the human. On the screen was a few bars, each one representing emotional, physical and mental conditions.
The emotional bar was cut into several sections. There was happiness, sadness, anger, frustration, confusion and others. Happiness was near zero, as well as anger and confusion. Sadness, frustration and others were more than thirty percent. The physical condition bar too was cut into several sections. Stamina and endurance were higher than the other physical aspects.
The mental conditions bar was cut into three sections. Logic was roughly sixty percent, with imagination and reasoning at twenty percent each. Twilight didn’t like what she was seeing. Right underneath the three bars was another bar, which was close to zero. The words read “Sanity”. The bar was at seven percent, way below what Twilight was expecting.
This could be a problem.