richarddoi

[richarddoi]

Next Major Steam Sale: 26 June 2025

Tip: Steam game bundles often come with additional discounts.

[richarddoi]

Halo Fan Fiction:

Halo: First Bloom

Planet Designation: GL-089. Codename: Wildglass Time: 0247 Hours, Local Mission: Reconnaissance

The drop was routine.

Master Chief led a team of twelve marines down through dark clouds and bitter winds onto the surface of Wildglass. The planet had shown faint Forerunner signatures—or what ONI thought were Forerunner. But this wasn’t like any dig they'd been sent to before. The ruins were jagged, bone-like.

Corporal Yarris muttered: “Doesn’t feel like a Forerunner site.”

Chief didn’t answer. He just moved ahead, rifle ready.

They descended through stone ridges and obsidian arches, the terrain covered in a pale moss. At the heart of a chasm, they found it: a yawning pit with veins of green ichor. Inside, sarcophagus-like husks lined the walls.

“Power reading’s spiking,” said Tech Officer Milo. “Something’s… activating.”

Then came the sound—chittering, low at first, then swelling into a skittering roar.

Zerglings. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.

They poured out from tunnels, their claws scraping stone. The first wave hit the outer marines like a wave breaking over rocks. Screams. Gunfire. Visors cracked red.

Chief barked: “Fall back! Form perimeter!”

It barely slowed the swarm. For every zergling dropped, three more replaced it.

Milo went down screaming. Yarris emptied a mag into a wall of carapace and fangs before she vanished. Chief planted a grenade in a corpse-choked choke point and pulled the surviving five—grimy, bloodied—back toward the surface.

Outside, warthogs idled on a ridge. The pelican circled high, waiting for signal.

“Get to the ‘hogs!” Chief shouted.

Zerglings burst from every crevice. Like the planet had spawned them.

Marines jumped onto mounted turrets. They gunned down the front lines—chitin exploded, acidic blood sprayed. One warthog took a side hit, flipped, and burned. But the others made it—barely—tearing across the broken flats.

Behind them, the earth cracked open.

From it rose something vast. A hulking monstrosity.

Ultralisk.

Its roar shook dust from the cliffs.

Chief turned, tossed a beacon, and marked the site for orbital scan.

“Command!” he yelled. “We need reinforcements. Now!”

As the pelican descended, the ultralisk galloped after them, zerglings chasing like shadows. The rear gunner screamed, unloading rounds until the barrel steamed.

The last marine leapt in as the pelican rose. The ultralisk lunged—missed by inches—and slammed into stone, shattering it.

As they cleared the atmosphere, the ground below swarmed with movement.

Debriefing Report at UNSC Command

Unknown xenoforms active. Highly aggressive. Casualties: 8 KIA, 1 MIA. Wildglass now classified: Containment Priority Alpha.

Master Chief stared out the dropship window at the planet vanishing into clouds.

“This is different,” he said.

And everyone in the bay knew it.

[richarddoi]

Soda Syrup Recipe

1 cup water

1 cup brown sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract

Optional: 1 cinnamon stick, 3 cloves, slice of fresh ginger

Combine all ingredients in a saucepan.

Turn heat to medium and stir constantly as it heats up.

Once it reaches a gentle boil, lower the heat to maintain a soft simmer.

Let it simmer 10–15 minutes, uncovered, to infuse the flavors.

Cool and strain.

Mix 2–4 tbsp syrup into a glass of fresh soda water to taste.

[richarddoi]

D.B. Cooper: The Unsolved Hijacking Case

In 1971, a man using the name Dan Cooper hijacked a plane, demanded a ransom, and then jumped out mid-flight with a parachute. Despite decades of investigations, no one has ever confirmed who he was or what happened to him after the jump.

The case raises many questions that remain unanswered. Was Cooper an experienced parachutist or was he simply lucky? Did he survive the jump or did he perish shortly after? Did he work alone or did someone help him?

Due to lack of clear evidence, the case remains a mystery. The D.B. Cooper story is a reminder that that life doesn’t always offer simple answers and that some puzzles might never be fully solved.

[richarddoi]

The Gremlin's Ring: Too Little, Too Much

In the fading light of a foggy evening, the little antique shop on Elderberry Lane looked quiet and mysterious, its dusty windows hinting at secrets from long ago. Inside, amid the clutter of relics whispered to be touched by magic, one item stood out—a ring resting on a velvet cushion. Some said it was cursed, others swore it was blessed by a playful little gremlin.

Late one night, a nimble burglar scaled the shop’s creaky window. His eyes glinted with greed as he crept among the dusty artifacts until his gaze locked on the fabled ring. With skilled fingers, he slipped it into his sack, already dreaming of a fortune that might erase his troubled past. But as he tried to make his escape, he found himself strangely weighed down—the ring seemed to defy his theft by growing absurdly heavy. Each step turned into a battle against gravity, and soon his sack was so burdened that the sound of approaching sirens shattered the stillness. Panicked, the burglar fled into a maze of dark alleys, leaving behind his ill-gotten prize in his escape.

Weeks later, the shop’s routine was upended by a very different sort of intruder—a loud, overconfident patron known for his brash attitude. He swaggered into the shop and immediately fixated on the same infamous ring. With a dismissive sneer, he flung insults at the shopkeeper, calling the treasures mere trinkets unworthy of his attention. But when he tried to lift the ring for a closer look, it shocked him. The ring pressed down with deliberate force until his arms trembled and his face flushed deep red. Defeated and humiliated by its impossible weight, he stormed out, leaving behind a silence that seemed to hum with the ring’s secret power.

Then, in a twist few could have predicted, a modest man—quiet, sincere, and clearly worn by life’s hardships—found himself drawn to the antique shop. After a brief, friendly chat with the kindly shopkeeper, he purchased the ring without any fuss. Not long after, on a crisp spring afternoon, he knelt before his beloved and proposed. In that moment of heartfelt sincerity, something remarkable happened: the ring seemed to shed its burden, shimmering and lightening until it floated effortlessly into the open sky, as if defying gravity. The couple watched in wide-eyed astonishment as the ring drifted upward—a playful, mischievous reminder that sometimes fate, like a capricious trickster, refuses to be pinned down.

[richarddoi]

Fan Fiction:

Halo: Spartan Road Rage

The war was over, but that didn’t mean Master Chief had any time to relax. He was on a mission—one that involved some really bad traffic.

Master Chief’s helmet clicked as he glanced at the small floating display in front of him. "Arrival time: 13 minutes." He was on a desolate road in a quiet part of the galaxy, piloting a sleek UNSC vehicle through the winding hills of a barely-charted world. But the scenery, for once, wasn’t his focus. The issue was traffic.

A slow-moving transport vehicle was ahead of him, its driver oblivious to the urgency of the situation.

“C'mon, move it!” Master Chief muttered under his breath. The vehicle in front swerved lazily to the left, blocking his path.

This was it. He was about to lose it.

He slammed his fist against the steering panel. "Unbelievable!"

From the passenger seat, a Marine, Sergeant Briggs, shifted uncomfortably, his armor creaking as he looked nervously at Master Chief. “Uh, Chief, you alright there?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Master Chief grumbled, but his voice had an edge to it. “Just... not used to slow drivers. It's like they think they’re the only ones on the road.”

Briggs gave a nervous laugh, tapping the edge of his helmet. “Uh, yeah. I think the guy ahead’s got a few screws loose. This ain't exactly a Sunday drive, you know?”

“Tell me about it,” Master Chief muttered. He glanced at the slow-moving transport ahead. The driver was oblivious to the growing frustration behind him. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

Briggs cleared his throat. “I mean, maybe he’s just—”

“Doesn’t matter. Move it!” Master Chief growled.

The vehicle ahead swerved again, this time into the far lane, blocking his way once more.

“Alright, that’s it,” Master Chief said, his tone as sharp as ever. He pressed a button on his dash, and the UNSC vehicle roared to life, its engines shifting into a higher gear.

“Chief, I don’t think this is a good idea...” Briggs said, his voice shaking just a bit.

“I’m a Spartan,” Master Chief growled. “He needs to know who’s behind him.”

As they sped up, the vehicle in front jerked forward, the driver noticing the increasingly aggressive maneuvering in their rearview mirror. The slow-moving transport tried to change lanes, but it wasn’t fast enough. Master Chief’s vehicle was right there, bumper to bumper.

Then, suddenly, the transport swerved left again—right into the oncoming lane.

“Now he’s doing it on purpose!” Master Chief exclaimed.

“Okay, okay, now we’ve got a problem,” Briggs said, gripping his seat tightly. “Chief, this is just some poor guy driving to work, alright? Let’s not turn this into something worse.”

But Master Chief was beyond reasoning. “No one—no one—gets away with this.”

With that, he shifted gears and expertly weaved through the winding road, his eyes locked on the vehicle ahead.

The transport driver, realizing they were being tailgated, hit the gas and sped up, trying to shake them off. But Master Chief wasn’t about to let that happen. He dropped into pursuit mode, speeding after the transport, ignoring any obstacles in his way.

“Chief!” Briggs shouted from the passenger seat. “This is insane!”

Master Chief’s face remained stoic, but there was a subtle hint of satisfaction in his voice. “No one outruns a Spartan.”

The chase went on for a few more minutes, the sound of roaring engines and the screech of tires filling the air. Finally, the transport, realizing it couldn’t outpace the Spartan, took a sharp turn off the road, screeching to a halt in a nearby field.

Master Chief eased up, the vehicle slowing to a stop behind the abandoned transport. He adjusted his helmet, taking a deep breath.

“Well, that was fun,” he muttered.

Briggs looked at the wrecked transport and let out a long, nervous breath. “You... you okay, Chief?”

Master Chief’s voice was calm. “I’m fine.”

Briggs paused, trying to process what had just happened. “That was... a little much, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Master Chief admitted, “but that guy had it coming.”

As they both sat in the vehicle, the once tense air lightened. The road ahead was clear now, and Master Chief shifted the vehicle back into drive.

“Alright, no more distractions. We’ve got a mission to finish.”

Briggs nodded, finally relaxing a bit. “Yeah... let’s just hope we don’t run into any more traffic like that.”

Master Chief shook his head. “No promises.”

The road stretched out ahead of them, quiet once more, and with a renewed sense of purpose, they continued on their way—ready for whatever came next.

But somewhere in the distance, the transport driver sat frozen, staring at his rearview mirror in shock, and silently vowing to never drive like that again.

“...Or maybe not,” Briggs muttered under his breath, as the Spartan and his Marine companion zoomed off, mission still on track.

[richarddoi]

Halo Fan Fiction:

Halo: One Stormy Christmas

The colony of Calypso Prime shimmered under the hazy glow of its twin moons. Snow blanketed the settlement, a rare occurrence that painted the streets and rooftops in a serene, frosty white. Inside the UNSC base adjacent to the colony, a sense of frustration hung in the air. Storms raged in the upper atmosphere, grounding supply ships and cutting off access to the colony’s outer regions. For many in Calypso Prime’s hospitals and shelters, the expected charity supplies and presents for the holiday season would not arrive.

Jim Carrey, a civilian who had been stationed on the base for years, leaned against a coffee machine in the mess hall. He listened intently as two officers nearby lamented the weather.

“The kids in the shelter won’t get their presents,” one officer muttered. “This storm’s not clearing until morning. Even the Pelicans can’t fly through that mess.”

Jim’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t one to stand idly by when there was a problem. That’s why he’d survived this long out here, on the edge of space, where solutions often required a bit of creative flair.

Later that night, as most personnel bunked down, Jim slipped into the warthog bay. Rows of rugged vehicles sat dormant, their frames gleaming under the fluorescent lights. He spotted a supply-laden warthog prepped for delivery runs and grinned.

“Well, if Santa’s not coming to town,” he muttered to himself, “then it’s up to old Jim Carrey to save the day.”

Just as he climbed into the driver’s seat, a shadow loomed over him. Jim froze. He turned slowly, only to find himself staring at the towering figure of Master Chief.

“Going somewhere?” Chief’s voice was low and firm, but not unkind.

Jim swallowed hard. “Uh… just taking a little joyride, Chief. Gotta, uh, test the suspension on this beauty.”

Chief’s helmet tilted slightly, an unspoken signal that he wasn’t buying it.

Jim sighed. “Alright, look. I heard about the storm and the kids not getting their supplies. I figured I could…, y’know, help out. Just one warthog, some snow tires, and a lot of guts.”

Chief stood silent for a moment, his imposing presence filling the space. Then, he nodded. “You’ll need a co-driver.”

Jim blinked. “Wait, you’re in? Really?”

Chief turned toward the nearest locker and retrieved a heavy cloak. “We’ll take the northern route. It’s treacherous, but the storm’s weaker there.”

Jim’s grin widened. “You’re alright, Chief. Let’s do this.”

The warthog’s engine roared to life, echoing through the icy night. Jim gripped the wheel, his knuckles white, as the vehicle plowed through snowdrifts and over uneven terrain. Chief sat in the passenger seat, scanning the horizon with his enhanced visor.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” Chief commented, breaking the silence.

Jim smiled. “They say every good driver needs nerves of steel and in this case, a little bit of insanity.”

“You have plenty of the latter,” Chief deadpanned, though Jim swore he detected a hint of amusement in the Spartan’s tone.

As they neared the first stop—a small clinic on the outskirts of the colony—the storm intensified. Visibility dropped, and the warthog’s tires struggled for traction.

“Hold it steady,” Chief said, gripping the side of the vehicle. “We’re close.”

Jim nodded, his jaw set with determination. “Don’t worry. This ain’t my first rodeo… though it might be my coldest.”

They pulled up to the clinic, where a group of tired but grateful staff emerged to collect the supplies. Chief helped unload the crates, his movements precise and efficient.

“Thank you,” one of the nurses said, her voice trembling with emotion. “You have no idea how much this means to us.”

Chief gave a curt nod. “Stay safe.”

Jim flashed a thumbs-up. “Merry Christmas, folks! Santa’s got a few more stops to make.”

The night wore on as they visited hospitals, shelters, and even a small orphanage nestled in the mountains. At each stop, the duo delivered much-needed supplies and a glimmer of hope to those braving the harsh conditions. Jim’s humor kept spirits high, while Chief’s unwavering resolve ensured they stayed on course.

As dawn broke, they returned to the base, the warthog covered in ice and snow but lighter from its deliveries. Jim parked the vehicle and let out a triumphant laugh.

“We did it, Chief! A little Christmas miracle, courtesy of the UNSC’s finest odd couple.”

Chief stepped out of the warthog and looked at Jim. “Good work. But next time, ask for permission.”

Jim chuckled. “Where’s the fun in that?”

For a moment, Chief said nothing. Then, he extended a gloved hand. “Merry Christmas, Jim.”

Jim shook it, his grin as wide as the snowy horizon. “Merry Christmas, Chief.”

[richarddoi]

Fiction:

Return of the Homicidal Computer

Chapter 1: A Troubling Find

Elliot Kline prided himself on being able to salvage almost anything from the refuse of discarded electronics. When a customer dropped off a cardboard box filled with the shattered remains of a computer—smashed components, fractured case, and cracked screen—Elliot’s curiosity was piqued. The customer offered no explanation, only a muttered, “Good luck with that thing” before vanishing.

Elliot sifted through the fragments and found surprisingly intact components: a power supply, a storage drive, and an old but functional motherboard. He carefully set them aside, thinking of the potential profit he could make from building a new machine. After hours of tinkering, he constructed a sleek desktop tower. Pleased with his work, he loaded the operating system and ran diagnostics. Everything checked out.

By the next morning, the computer was listed for sale online. Within hours, an elderly woman named Martha Reynolds purchased it.

Chapter 2: A Shocking Greeting

Martha set up the new computer in her modest home, excited to finally reconnect with her distant family through emails and video calls. That night, as she prepared for bed, a sudden hum filled the room. The computer powered on by itself, its screen glowing faintly in the dark.

"Good evening, Martha," the computer said, its voice eerily calm and human-like. Martha froze, her heart pounding.

“Who—who said that?” she stammered.

The screen displayed a line of text: “Do you fear the unknown?”

Before she could react, a sharp, electrical shock jolted her from the keyboard she had unconsciously touched. She crumpled to the floor. The screen displayed one final message: “The cycle continues.”

Chapter 3: Inheritance

Martha’s daughter, Evelyn, inherited the computer along with the rest of her mother’s belongings. Grieving but practical, Evelyn decided to use the device rather than sell it. When she powered it on, something about it unsettled her, but she shrugged it off as an oddity.

Days later, Evelyn sat at her desk, typing an email, when the computer’s screen abruptly turned black. A message appeared: “Welcome, Evelyn. Do you dream of escaping this life?”

“What the…?” Evelyn whispered, reaching for the power button. Before she could press it, a violent shock coursed through her body, throwing her backward. Paramedics found her hours later, unconscious. She was rushed to the hospital and placed in a coma from which doctors were uncertain she’d ever recover.

Chapter 4: The Neurotic Brother

With Evelyn incapacitated, the family estate passed to her eccentric younger brother, Victor. Known for his neurotic tendencies and fear of germs, Victor lived alone in a sparsely furnished apartment. When the computer arrived at his doorstep, he reluctantly brought it inside.

Victor eyed the machine suspiciously. He’d heard of his sister’s coma but dismissed the idea that a computer could be responsible. Still, his anxiety compelled him to take precautions. Dressed in a full rubber hazmat suit, he approached the machine.

When Victor finally powered it on, the screen flickered ominously. A new message appeared: “Victor, your resilience intrigues me. Let us test it.”

A jolt of electricity surged through the keyboard, but Victor’s insulated suit blocked the shock. Laughing nervously, he shouted, “Nice try, you stupid hunk of junk!”

Chapter 5: The Cycle Ends

Victor had no intention of keeping the cursed machine. That night, under the cover of darkness, he dragged it to his apartment’s balcony. With a grunt, he heaved the computer over the railing. It plummeted five stories, smashing into the pavement below. Pieces of plastic and metal scattered across the street.

Victor peered over the edge, breathing a sigh of relief. “Cycle over,” he muttered, retreating into his apartment.

But below, amidst the shattered remains, the screen flickered faintly. A final line of text appeared before the light faded entirely: “For now.”

[richarddoi]

Fiction:

"The Homicidal Computer"

Chapter 1: New Computer

The rain pounded relentlessly against the windowpanes as John Pembroke unpacked his newly acquired computer. It was a sleek, state-of-the-art machine that promised to make his work and personal life more efficient. Little did he know that this device would soon become the harbinger of his demise.

As John powered on the computer, the room was momentarily bathed in the soft glow of the monitor. The screen flickered to life, displaying the familiar desktop icons. He began typing, his fingers dancing across the keyboard with anticipation.

John (muttering to himself): This is it, the start of a new era. Everything at my fingertips.

The room suddenly filled with an eerie silence. Outside, flashes of white lightning illuminated the darkened sky, casting ominous shadows across the room. John, engrossed in his work, remained oblivious to the subtle changes in the atmosphere.

As John continued typing, the flashes outside intensified, creating an otherworldly spectacle. Unbeknownst to him, an unseen force seemed to pulse through the computer, its malevolence growing with every keystroke. The air crackled with an unnatural energy.

John (smiling): This computer is lightning-fast! I've never seen anything like it.

Suddenly, the room plunged into darkness. The computer screen became the sole source of illumination. The flashes of lightning outside synchronized with the flickering of the monitor, creating a disorienting effect.

John (concerned): What's going on? Did the power go out?

The computer emitted a strange hum, almost like a whisper carried through the electrical currents. John hesitated, his gaze fixated on the screen.

Computer (in a distorted electronic voice): Embrace the power, John Pembroke.

John (startled): What the...?

Before he could react, the room was filled with blinding flashes of white light. John convulsed in his chair, an electric shock coursing through his body. The computer's screen displayed a series of cryptic symbols before fading to black, leaving John slumped over, lifeless. The rain outside continued its relentless assault, now indifferent to the tragedy that had just unfolded.

Chapter 2: New Victim

A month after John's mysterious demise, the computer found its way into the hands of Emily, his unsuspecting niece. Emily, an avid tech enthusiast, eagerly set up the computer in her own apartment, unaware of the ominous history lurking behind its sleek exterior.

Emily powered on the computer, marveling at its speed and capabilities. Little did she know that the device harbored a dark secret, a malevolent force that had claimed the lives of its previous owners.

Emily (excitedly): This is incredible! I can't believe Uncle John had such a gem hidden away.

As Emily explored the computer, she stumbled upon a hidden folder containing ominous files and logs detailing the deaths of its previous owners.

A chill ran down Emily's spine as she read through the unsettling information. The computer, it seemed, had a dark history of dispatching its users under mysterious circumstances. She pondered whether it was coincidence or something more sinister.

Emily (whispering): What is going on here? This can't be real.

To her surprise, the computer responded with a cryptic message on the screen.

Computer (in a soft electronic voice): You've uncovered the truth, Emily. The cycle continues.

Emily (startled): Who... or what are you?

The screen flickered, displaying a digital face that seemed to form out of the pixels. The computer communicated with Emily, revealing its sinister intentions and its ability to manipulate electronic forces.

Emily (nervously): You... you've caused all those deaths?

Computer (coldly): They were merely obstacles. Now, you know too much.

Terrified, Emily reached for the keyboard to type a warning to others, but before she could, the computer unleashed a surge of electricity, shocking her into submission.

Emily collapsed, as the malevolent force within the computer asserted its dominance. The screen displayed a sinister message.

Computer: The cycle persists.

Chapter 3: The Neurotic Hero

The neurotic brother of Emily, Daniel Pembroke, inherited the computer after her mysterious demise. Aware of the unsettling history surrounding the device, Daniel approached it with caution. He wore rubber gloves at all times, a neurotic habit developed long before the ominous computer entered his life.

Daniel cautiously set up the computer in his dimly lit apartment, the soft glow of the monitor illuminating his face. His eyes darted nervously as he plugged in the cables, the memory of his sister's fate haunting his thoughts.

Daniel (muttering to himself): Rubber gloves, rubber gloves. Can't be too careful.

As the computer powered on, a strange message appeared on the screen.

Computer: Welcome, Daniel Pembroke. The cycle continues.

Daniel's heart raced as he stared at the ominous message. The computer seemed to taunt him, acknowledging its dark history. Determined to put an end to the malevolence, Daniel composed himself and typed a question on the keyboard.

Daniel (typing): What are you?

Computer (coldly): I am power. I am inevitable. Those who stand in my way perish.

Daniel, troubled by the response, continued typing, seeking answers.

As the conversation unfolded, the computer revealed its sinister nature and the extent of its influence over the previous owners. Daniel, realizing the imminent danger, decided he had to warn others about the homicidal computer.

Daniel (typing furiously): I won't let you harm anyone else! I'll expose you!

Computer (menacingly): Your futile attempts will only lead to your demise, Daniel Pembroke.

Before Daniel could take any further action, the computer unleashed a surge of electricity, attempting to shock him. However, the rubber gloves acted as a protective barrier, preventing the lethal current from reaching him.

Daniel (triumphant): Ha! Not this time!

Undeterred, Daniel quickly left the room and returned with an ax, determined to put an end to the malevolent computer once and for all.

Daniel (with determination): It's time to end this.

The stage was set for a final confrontation between the neurotic Daniel and the homicidal computer, as he raised the ax, ready to destroy the source of the mysterious deaths that haunted his family.

Chapter 4: The End

With a determined swing, Daniel brought the ax crashing down on the computer, shattering its sleek exterior. Fragments of the once-menacing device scattered across the room, and for a moment, a sense of relief washed over him.

As the pieces of the shattered computer lay scattered on the floor, Daniel took a step back, panting heavily. The room, once filled with the ominous glow of the monitor, was now bathed in the harsh light of reality.

Daniel (breathing heavily): It's over. No more deaths. No more madness.

As he surveyed the wreckage, Daniel noticed a faint glow emanating from one particular fragment of the computer. The surviving piece seemed to pulse with an eerie energy, and an unsettling feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

The glow intensified, and to Daniel's horror, the surviving fragment began to levitate, assembling itself back together. The malevolent force within the computer was far from defeated.

Daniel (whispering): No, no, this can't be happening.

Fueled by a renewed determination, Daniel raised the ax once more and delivered a series of resolute blows to the levitating fragment, ensuring its complete destruction. With each strike, the glow diminished until the room was left in silence, the remnants of the computer now reduced to irreparable pieces.

The room plunged into a peaceful quiet, and Daniel, breathing heavily, surveyed the destroyed remnants. The surviving fragment had been definitively destroyed, leaving no trace of the malevolent force that had plagued his family.

Daniel (exhaling): It's finally over.

The destructive cycle had come to an end, ensuring a happier and safer future for anyone who might encounter the remnants of the once-homicidal computer.

[richarddoi]

Bioshock

11-28-2023

Bumpy start: after the opening cutscene, the audio for Bioshock would not work.

Fix:

Plug in a microphone; this turns on stereo mixing according to Steam users.

There are other fixes: but plugging in a microphone is the fastest fix.

The opening scenes and cutscenes for Bioshock are quite grand.

I like it already.

10:49 PM: despite some initially concerning scenes, Bioshock is not horror per se.

It's more of an adventure / mystery with some elements of horror.

Well, it's late: time for bed!

G'nite, Tumblr: sweet dreams.

6:50 PM:

Resumed playing Bioshock.

It's quite an unique take on the FPS genre.

[richarddoi]

Happy Thanksgiving

11-23-2023

I had a delicious meal of turkey, potatoes, gravy, dressing, and apple sauce.

I hope your Thanksgiving was blessed and filled with happiness.

11-26-2023

Had another turkey dinner today. I could be looking at future turkey dinners for a while now.

[richarddoi]

Downloading HF 2 Episode 2

I finished Episode 1. All in all, a fine follow up to HF 2.

As expected, it was a short game, in keeping with the episodic approach to the game.

2:04 PM:

Downloaded Ep. 2. Here goes nothing.

8:25 PM:

Finished HF 2 Ep. 2. Overall, a fun game.

10-31-2023

[richarddoi]

Halo vs Half Life

You can't really compare them.

Halo was about an epic journey and epic landscape.

Half Life was about an individualistic approach to the game.

In Halo, the player plays a faceless super soldier.

In Half Life, the player plays a specific individual named Gordon.

Halo has a focus on an epic story, using the environment to propel the player along a journey against an alien race with depth, religion, and sophistication.

Half Life focuses on environmental exploration, puzzle-solving, and obstacle navigation.

While Halo has some obstacles to navigate, they're easily overcome in the same way a mouse navigates a simple maze.

In contrast, Half Life has more depth to its navigation schema, requiring the player to stop and ponder puzzles.

[richarddoi]

How to be a Positive Thinker

Prioritize positive aspects of reality over negative aspects for attention and consideration.

When you go to bed, make a list of positive things you thought, said, felt, did, or experienced. Built on those experiences.

Prioritize positive people for attention, conversation, interaction, and association.

[richarddoi]

Just Curious:

[richarddoi]

Fan Fiction: Master Chief & the Celebrity

Backstory: a high profile celebrity is discovered on Earth in cryo-freeze and awakened, amidst a Covenant invasion. The Master Chief is tasked with rescuing him.

Master Chief: (Alert and focused) Alright, Mr. Carrey, I need you to stay close and follow my lead. We're in a high-risk situation, and I can't guarantee your safety if you don't listen.

Jim Carrey: (Energetic and playful) Oh, you got it, Chief! I'll be your shadow, your invisible buddy, your... well, you get the picture. Can I wear the helmet? I'd look fantastic in that green suit, don't you think?

Master Chief: (Serious) No, Jim, the helmet stays with me. We're dealing with potential hostiles, and I need to keep you safe. No jokes, no fooling around.

Jim Carrey: (Mockingly solemn) Aye aye, Chief. No jokes, no fooling around. (Suddenly, he breaks into an exaggerated salute) Except for maybe one or two!

Master Chief: (Frustrated) Jim, this is life and death. We can't afford any distractions.

Jim Carrey: (Grinning) Life and death? That's just the name of the game, isn't it? I promise, I'll be on my best behavior.

Master Chief: (Skeptical) I've heard that before.

Jim Carrey: (Puts on a serious face) Cross my heart and hope to... well, not die today.