#I googled it and found the patent

[in-tua-deep]

Good evening I’m getting into doll customization as a hobby and decided to go to a thrift store after work today

Usually there’s pretty much only girl dolls, sometimes an articulated one if I’m lucky? Today though I found two (2) articulated male dolls, which like, score, right?

Anyway one of these happens to be the MOST unhingedly hinged doll in existence. If I counted right I think this man has twenty-three points of articulation

He is also absolutely shredded

Why

[e-dubbc11]

Scars

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of childhood trauma, attempted kidnapping, fluff, smooches

Word Count: 1.8K-ish

Summary: Billy comes home while you’re taking a nap, he notices a scar on your ankle and wants to know the story of where it came from

A/N: I found this idea online somewhere. I needed a little help with new ideas and this caught my eye. I hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The weather outside your window changed quickly from the early afternoon sun immersing the surrounding buildings in its warm light to it disappearing behind the fast moving gray clouds that swallowed up the bright blue sky.

“Where did the sunshine go?” You said out loud to yourself from your penthouse perch, gazing down at the busy city below.

This time of year could be quite unpredictable as far as the weather goes. Late summer was still very hot, sometimes less humid, and could get a little cool at night into the early morning. But also the sun could be blazing in the sky one minute and the next time you looked outside, your once blue sky was now fully covered in dull gray clouds, ready to rain down on top of you.

And then you heard it, the sound of light rain tapping against the window as you gathered everything you needed to give yourself a relaxing home pedicure. You had the bubbling and warming foot spa, the lavender bath salts, moisturizing lotion, and all of the tools you needed.

Soaking your feet after a long day at work felt wonderful. The hot water bubbled under the balls of your feet, massaging away the stress of your day. As you inhaled sharply and let out a forceful exhale, your shoulders relaxed and your eyes closed, tuning everything out except the rhythmic sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Hopefully, you will be finished before Billy comes home.

**********

Faintly, you could hear the rain drumming against the roof. Earlier, that sound had lulled you to sleep and it was also the first thing you heard as you were starting to stir. After painting your nails, you told yourself you were just going to close your eyes for a minute while they were drying.

An hour later, you didn’t even hear Billy come home.

The strong scent of nail polish hung in the air as he walked through the door. Billy called out to you but you didn’t hear him.

“Baby?” He said softly.

No answer.

Meticulously, Billy put his things away…his keys, jacket, gun. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt sleeves so he could roll them up to his elbows. He followed the scent of nail polish to your shared bedroom and paused in the doorway to briefly watch you while you slept.

Outside, the sky was gloomy and overcast but inside you were his bright spot. You were the warm afternoon sun that danced across his face and made him smile after his dismal ride home.

Billy carefully walked over to the bed, looked at your newly painted toes and smiled because you had painted them black, his favorite. They shined like patent leather even in the dimly lit room. Your hands were resting on your stomach and he watched as your chest rose and fell gently with every breath you took.

He committed to memory the way you looked at that moment, the soft comfortable shorts you were wearing, his hoodie that you constantly stole from him to keep your arms warm, and he loved the peaceful look you had on your face while you slept.

When he looked closely at your ankle, he spotted a triangle shaped scar that he had never noticed before. Billy thought he had memorized every inch of your body but he didn’t remember if you had ever mentioned how you got that one.

Reaching for you with his agile fingers, he lightly and slowly traced the outline of your scar, while desperately trying not to wake you. Billy had a very light touch but between the rain and the slight tickle you felt on your ankle, your eyes gradually fluttered open.

A sly smile stretched across your lips as you looked down and saw him tracing the scar on your ankle.

“Whatcha doin’, handsome?” You asked.

Before turning his head to look at you, Billy smiled and replied, “I was admiring your fresh pedicure when I noticed this scar and I don’t know what it’s from, I thought I knew every mark on your body. Why don’t I know about this one?”

Billy’s tone was somber and his lips pulled back over his teeth like he was upset that he didn’t know all about your scar.

“It’s just an old bicycle injury, Billy. It’s not a big deal.” You replied and shrugged at the same time as you tried to conceal how nervous you were.

Billy brought his gaze up to yours, his endless brown eyes looked like two black ink wells and the muscles in his jaw tensed when he asked about the scar.

“Tell me, my love.” He said with an uncomfortable smile, almost like he knew it wasn’t JUST an old bicycle injury.

“Billy, I don’t know—“ You had started to say before he interrupted you.

“Just tell me what happened, sweet girl.” He said calmly. “It’s ok.”

Trying to smile, you sat upright in bed with your back resting on the headboard. It had been a long time since you had thought about that day.

It was around this time of year, late summer, the sun was high in the sky so it had to have been around lunchtime or a little after when you were outside playing with your brother and your cousin. You were probably around 11 and the three of you were getting ready to ride your bikes back home from the park where you were playing.

You were the oldest, it was your job to watch out for the younger ones, so you let them ride up ahead of you. Once they had turned onto your street, you felt immense relief that you were almost home and that’s when you sensed a car slowly pull up behind you.

And then you heard that voice.

“Hey sweetheart, you lost? Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are?” He had said with an evil smile.

“Pretty…” Billy hated that word. As you looked over at him, he had clenched his fist, his face was flushed with rage, while he gripped the blanket on the bed so tight that you thought he may rip it.

You couldn’t recall what the man looked like when he called out to you but you do remember his voice. It sounded like he did nothing but smoke cigarettes all day, it was deep, scratchy and made your skin crawl, like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Nervously shaking your head, you said, “No, I’m fine.”

Your heart was leaping out of your chest and you felt the sweat on your brow about to trickle down your forehead when you decided to make a run for it. When you forcefully pushed down on the bike pedal, your foot slipped and you ended up slicing your ankle on the jagged teeth of the pedal which is when another man jumped from the car and tried to grab you.

But you managed to pedal as fast as you could to catch up to your brother and your cousin who were waiting for you around the corner from where the man tried to grab you.

They didn’t follow you and you never saw them again but the memory always came back when the scent of clove cigarettes was in the air, or heard a deep raspy male voice, or felt someone walking behind you.

It was something from your childhood that you never spoke of again until now, not even to your brother or your cousin who were with you that day. And you’ve been looking over your shoulder ever since.

Knowing what Billy had been through as a young child, your entire body tensed watching him seethe with anger. His cheeks were flushed and you could hear him grinding his teeth while still tightly gripping the blanket in between his fingers.

“Billy? Say something, please.” You said, breaking the silence.

He gently kissed the scar on your ankle and crawled from the foot of the bed up to you, pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head. His heartbeat pounded against your ear as you melted into his arms and closed your eyes.

“You don’t look over your shoulder when you’re with me, baby.” He said in a slightly confused tone.

You pulled away to snake your arms around his neck and look into his eyes.

With a warm smile, you replied, “Being with you is the ONLY time I don’t look over my shoulder, Billy. Because I know they’d have to get through you to get to me.”

Billy gently pressed his lips to yours which tasted like peppermint. His shoulders relaxed a little as he smiled back and said, “I’ll never let anything happen to you, sweet girl. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

After finally telling someone your secret, the weight of that secret had finally been removed from your chest and you could breathe a little easier now. Your terrifying childhood experience that had been kept inside all of these years was finally out in the open but you were ok with it.

“I love you.” You said in barely more than a whisper as your eyes welled up with tears. “So much, Billy.”

Billy just smiled, lightly brushed his knuckles against your cheek, and kissed you again before saying, “I love you too, sweet girl. And I’ll pay to have that scar removed, just say the word and it will be gone.”

In that moment, you felt so loved, so seen, and understood. All he wanted to do was make sure you were happy, that you were ok, and he would do anything for you to make that happen, even going as far as paying to have your scar removed.

“Oh Billy…that’s so sweet. But my bike probably saved my life, and yes, looking at that scar reminds me of that day but I’m very thankful for that bicycle and the mark it left on me…literally.” You said, trying to smile. “Thank you, my love.”

Although your experience wasn’t the same as Billy’s, he knew it could have been so much worse for you than it was but that didn’t make him any less angry about it. Your only wish was that he had been able to escape his worst nightmare also.

He knew what kind of real life monsters existed in this world and that he may never have had the chance to meet you if they had taken you. You were the person that understood him the most and loved him for exactly who he was. He didn’t even want to think about what his life would be like without you…but he’d never have to.

“Well, if you ever change your mind…” Said Billy, pulling you tight to his chest again.

You would always be there for each other, for love, comfort, or just to listen.

Relaxing into his embrace, you kissed him on the neck, and said with a smile, “I know, baby…I know.”

It felt good to finally let go.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @fakehappy27 @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @fictional-hooman @celestialend @nutmeg17 @k-marzolf @vaguekayla @rosaleenablack @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen @rachlovesactors @qu1etwolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso @colereads @ittybxttykxttytxtty

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Big Tech’s “attention rents”

Tomorrow (Nov 4), I'm keynoting the Hackaday Supercon in Pasadena, CA.

The thing is, any feed or search result is "algorithmic." "Just show me the things posted by people I follow in reverse-chronological order" is an algorithm. "Just show me products that have this SKU" is an algorithm. "Alphabetical sort" is an algorithm. "Random sort" is an algorithm.

Any process that involves more information than you can take in at a glance or digest in a moment needs some kind of sense-making. It needs to be put in some kind of order. There's always gonna be an algorithm.

But that's not what we mean by "the algorithm" (TM). When we talk about "the algorithm," we mean a system for ordering information that uses complex criteria that are not precisely known to us, and than can't be easily divined through an examination of the ordering.

There's an idea that a "good" algorithm is one that does not seek to deceive or harm us. When you search for a specific part number, you want exact matches for that search at the top of the results. It's fine if those results include third-party parts that are compatible with the part you're searching for, so long as they're clearly labeled. There's room for argument about how to order those results – do highly rated third-party parts go above the OEM part? How should the algorithm trade off price and quality?

It's hard to come up with an objective standard to resolve these fine-grained differences, but search technologists have tried. Think of Google: they have a patent on "long clicks." A "long click" is when you search for something and then don't search for it again for quite some time, the implication being that you've found what you were looking for. Google Search ads operate a "pay per click" model, and there's an argument that this aligns Google's ad division's interests with search quality: if the ad division only gets paid when you click a link, they will militate for placing ads that users want to click on.

Platforms are inextricably bound up in this algorithmic information sorting business. Platforms have emerged as the endemic form of internet-based business, which is ironic, because a platform is just an intermediary – a company that connects different groups to each other. The internet's great promise was "disintermediation" – getting rid of intermediaries. We did that, and then we got a whole bunch of new intermediaries.

Usually, those groups can be sorted into two buckets: "business customers" (drivers, merchants, advertisers, publishers, creative workers, etc) and "end users" (riders, shoppers, consumers, audiences, etc). Platforms also sometimes connect end users to each other: think of dating sites, or interest-based forums on Reddit. Either way, a platform's job is to make these connections, and that means platforms are always in the algorithm business.

Whether that's matching a driver and a rider, or an advertiser and a consumer, or a reader and a mix of content from social feeds they're subscribed to and other sources of information on the service, the platform has to make a call as to what you're going to see or do.

These choices are enormously consequential. In the theory of Surveillance Capitalism, these choices take on an almost supernatural quality, where "Big Data" can be used to guess your response to all the different ways of pitching an idea or product to you, in order to select the optimal pitch that bypasses your critical faculties and actually controls your actions, robbing you of "the right to a future tense."

I don't think much of this hypothesis. Every claim to mind control – from Rasputin to MK Ultra to neurolinguistic programming to pick-up artists – has turned out to be bullshit. Besides, you don't need to believe in mind control to explain the ways that algorithms shape our beliefs and actions. When a single company dominates the information landscape – say, when Google controls 90% of your searches – then Google's sorting can deprive you of access to information without you knowing it.

If every "locksmith" listed on Google Maps is a fake referral business, you might conclude that there are no more reputable storefront locksmiths in existence. What's more, this belief is a form of self-fulfilling prophecy: if Google Maps never shows anyone a real locksmith, all the real locksmiths will eventually go bust.

If you never see a social media update from a news source you follow, you might forget that the source exists, or assume they've gone under. If you see a flood of viral videos of smash-and-grab shoplifter gangs and never see a news story about wage theft, you might assume that the former is common and the latter is rare (in reality, shoplifting hasn't risen appreciably, while wage-theft is off the charts).

In the theory of Surveillance Capitalism, the algorithm was invented to make advertisers richer, and then went on to pervert the news (by incentivizing "clickbait") and finally destroyed our politics when its persuasive powers were hijacked by Steve Bannon, Cambridge Analytica, and QAnon grifters to turn millions of vulnerable people into swivel-eyed loons, racists and conspiratorialists.

As I've written, I think this theory gives the ad-tech sector both too much and too little credit, and draws an artificial line between ad-tech and other platform businesses that obscures the connection between all forms of platform decay, from Uber to HBO to Google Search to Twitter to Apple and beyond:

https://pluralistic.net/HowToDestroySurveillanceCapitalism

As a counter to Surveillance Capitalism, I've proposed a theory of platform decay called enshittification, which identifies how the market power of monopoly platforms, combined with the flexibility of digital tools, combined with regulatory capture, allows platforms to abuse both business-customers and end-users, by depriving them of alternatives, then "twiddling" the knobs that determine the rules of the platform without fearing sanction under privacy, labor or consumer protection law, and finally, blocking digital self-help measures like ad-blockers, alternative clients, scrapers, reverse engineering, jailbreaking, and other tech guerrilla warfare tactics:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

One important distinction between Surveillance Capitalism and enshittification is that enshittification posits that the platform is bad for everyone. Surveillance Capitalism starts from the assumption that surveillance advertising is devastatingly effective (which explains how your racist Facebook uncles got turned into Jan 6 QAnons), and concludes that advertisers must be well-served by the surveillance system.

But advertisers – and other business customers – are very poorly served by platforms. Procter and Gamble reduced its annual surveillance advertising budget from $100m//year to $0/year and saw a 0% reduction in sales. The supposed laser-focused targeting and superhuman message refinement just don't work very well – first, because the tech companies are run by bullshitters whose marketing copy is nonsense, and second because these companies are monopolies who can abuse their customers without losing money.

The point of enshittification is to lock end-users to the platform, then use those locked-in users as bait for business customers, who will also become locked to the platform. Once everyone is holding everyone else hostage, the platform uses the flexibility of digital services to play a variety of algorithmic games to shift value from everyone to the business's shareholders. This flexibility is supercharged by the failure of regulators to enforce privacy, labor and consumer protection standards against the companies, and by these companies' ability to insist that regulators punish end-users, competitors, tinkerers and other third parties to mod, reverse, hack or jailbreak their products and services to block their abuse.

Enshittification needs The Algorithm. When Uber wants to steal from its drivers, it can just do an old-fashioned wage theft, but eventually it will face the music for that kind of scam:

https://apnews.com/article/uber-lyft-new-york-city-wage-theft-9ae3f629cf32d3f2fb6c39b8ffcc6cc6

The best way to steal from drivers is with algorithmic wage discrimination. That's when Uber offers occassional, selective drivers higher rates than it gives to drivers who are fully locked to its platform and take every ride the app offers. The less selective a driver becomes, the lower the premium the app offers goes, but if a driver starts refusing rides, the wage offer climbs again. This isn't the mind-control of Surveillance Capitalism, it's just fraud, shaving fractional pennies off your paycheck in the hopes that you won't notice. The goal is to get drivers to abandon the other side-hustles that allow them to be so choosy about when they drive Uber, and then, once the driver is fully committed, to crank the wage-dial down to the lowest possible setting:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

This is the same game that Facebook played with publishers on the way to its enshittification: when Facebook began aggressively courting publishers, any short snippet republished from the publisher's website to a Facebook feed was likely to be recommended to large numbers of readers. Facebook offered publishers a vast traffic funnel that drove millions of readers to their sites.

But as publishers became more dependent on that traffic, Facebook's algorithm started downranking short excerpts in favor of medium-length ones, building slowly to fulltext Facebook posts that were fully substitutive for the publisher's own web offerings. Like Uber's wage algorithm, Facebook's recommendation engine played its targets like fish on a line.

When publishers responded to declining reach for short excerpts by stepping back from Facebook, Facebook goosed the traffic for their existing posts, sending fresh floods of readers to the publisher's site. When the publisher returned to Facebook, the algorithm once again set to coaxing the publishers into posting ever-larger fractions of their work to Facebook, until, finally, the publisher was totally locked into Facebook. Facebook then started charging publishers for "boosting" – not just to be included in algorithmic recommendations, but to reach their own subscribers.

Enshittification is modern, high-tech enabled, monopolistic form of rent seeking. Rent-seeking is a subtle and important idea from economics, one that is increasingly relevant to our modern economy. For economists, a "rent" is income you get from owning a "factor of production" – something that someone else needs to make or do something.

Rents are not "profits." Profit is income you get from making or doing something. Rent is income you get from owning something needed to make a profit. People who earn their income from rents are called rentiers. If you make your income from profits, you're a "capitalist."

Capitalists and rentiers are in irreconcilable combat with each other. A capitalist wants access to their factors of production at the lowest possible price, whereas rentiers want those prices to be as high as possible. A phone manufacturer wants to be able to make phones as cheaply as possible, while a patent-troll wants to own a patent that the phone manufacturer needs to license in order to make phones. The manufacturer is a capitalism, the troll is a rentier.

The troll might even decide that the best strategy for maximizing their rents is to exclusively license their patents to a single manufacturer and try to eliminate all other phones from the market. This will allow the chosen manufacturer to charge more and also allow the troll to get higher rents. Every capitalist except the chosen manufacturer loses. So do people who want to buy phones. Eventually, even the chosen manufacturer will lose, because the rentier can demand an ever-greater share of their profits in rent.

Digital technology enables all kinds of rent extraction. The more digitized an industry is, the more rent-seeking it becomes. Think of cars, which harvest your data, block third-party repair and parts, and force you to buy everything from acceleration to seat-heaters as a monthly subscription:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

The cloud is especially prone to rent-seeking, as Yanis Varoufakis writes in his new book, Technofeudalism, where he explains how "cloudalists" have found ways to lock all kinds of productive enterprise into using cloud-based resources from which ever-increasing rents can be extracted:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

The endless malleability of digitization makes for endless variety in rent-seeking, and cataloging all the different forms of digital rent-extraction is a major project in this Age of Enshittification. "Algorithmic Attention Rents: A theory of digital platform market power," a new UCL Institute for Innovation and Public Purpose paper by Tim O'Reilly, Ilan Strauss and Mariana Mazzucato, pins down one of these forms:

https://www.ucl.ac.uk/bartlett/public-purpose/publications/2023/nov/algorithmic-attention-rents-theory-digital-platform-market-power

The "attention rents" referenced in the paper's title are bait-and-switch scams in which a platform deliberately enshittifies its recommendations, search results or feeds to show you things that are not the thing you asked to see, expect to see, or want to see. They don't do this out of sadism! The point is to extract rent – from you (wasted time, suboptimal outcomes) and from business customers (extracting rents for "boosting," jumbling good results in among scammy or low-quality results).

The authors cite several examples of these attention rents. Much of the paper is given over to Amazon's so-called "advertising" product, a $31b/year program that charges sellers to have their products placed above the items that Amazon's own search engine predicts you will want to buy:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

This is a form of gladiatorial combat that pits sellers against each other, forcing them to surrender an ever-larger share of their profits in rent to Amazon for pride of place. Amazon uses a variety of deceptive labels ("Highly Rated – Sponsored") to get you to click on these products, but most of all, they rely two factors. First, Amazon has a long history of surfacing good results in response to queries, which makes buying whatever's at the top of a list a good bet. Second, there's just so many possible results that it takes a lot of work to sift through the probably-adequate stuff at the top of the listings and get to the actually-good stuff down below.

Amazon spent decades subsidizing its sellers' goods – an illegal practice known as "predatory pricing" that enforcers have increasingly turned a blind eye to since the Reagan administration. This has left it with few competitors:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

The lack of competing retail outlets lets Amazon impose other rent-seeking conditions on its sellers. For example, Amazon has a "most favored nation" requirement that forces companies that raise their prices on Amazon to raise their prices everywhere else, which makes everything you buy more expensive, whether that's a Walmart, Target, a mom-and-pop store, or direct from the manufacturer:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

But everyone loses in this "two-sided market." Amazon used "junk ads" to juice its ad-revenue: these are ads that are objectively bad matches for your search, like showing you a Seattle Seahawks jersey in response to a search for LA Lakers merch:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-11-02/amazon-boosted-junk-ads-hid-messages-with-signal-ftc-says

The more of these junk ads Amazon showed, the more revenue it got from sellers – and the more the person selling a Lakers jersey had to pay to show up at the top of your search, and the more they had to charge you to cover those ad expenses, and the more they had to charge for it everywhere else, too.

The authors describe this process as a transformation between "attention rents" (misdirecting your attention) to "pecuniary rents" (making money). That's important: despite decades of rhetoric about the "attention economy," attention isn't money. As I wrote in my enshittification essay:

You can't use attention as a medium of exchange. You can't use it as a store of value. You can't use it as a unit of account. Attention is like cryptocurrency: a worthless token that is only valuable to the extent that you can trick or coerce someone into parting with "fiat" currency in exchange for it. You have to "monetize" it – that is, you have to exchange the fake money for real money.

The authors come up with some clever techniques for quantifying the ways that this scam harms users. For example, they count the number of places that an advertised product rises in search results, relative to where it would show up in an "organic" search. These quantifications are instructive, but they're also a kind of subtweet at the judiciary.

In 2018, SCOTUS's ruling in American Express v Ohio changed antitrust law for two-sided markets by insisting that so long as one side of a two-sided market was better off as the result of anticompetitive actions, there was no antitrust violation:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3346776

For platforms, that means that it's OK to screw over sellers, advertisers, performers and other business customers, so long as the end-users are better off: "Go ahead, cheat the Uber drivers, so long as you split the booty with Uber riders."

But in the absence of competition, regulation or self-help measures, platforms cheat everyone – that's the point of enshittification. The attention rents that Amazon's payola scheme extract from shoppers translate into higher prices, worse goods, and lower profits for platform sellers. In other words, Amazon's conduct is so sleazy that it even threads the infinitesimal needle that the Supremes created in American Express.

Here's another algorithmic pecuniary rent: Amazon figured out which of its major rivals used an automated price-matching algorithm, and then cataloged which products they had in common with those sellers. Then, under a program called Project Nessie, Amazon jacked up the prices of those products, knowing that as soon as they raised the prices on Amazon, the prices would go up everywhere else, so Amazon wouldn't lose customers to cheaper alternatives. That scam made Amazon at least a billion dollars:

https://gizmodo.com/ftc-alleges-amazon-used-price-gouging-algorithm-1850986303

This is a great example of how enshittification – rent-seeking on digital platforms – is different from analog rent-seeking. The speed and flexibility with which Amazon and its rivals altered their prices requires digitization. Digitization also let Amazon crank the price-gouging dial to zero whenever they worried that regulators were investigating the program.

So what do we do about it? After years of being made to look like fumblers and clowns by Big Tech, regulators and enforcers – and even lawmakers – have decided to get serious.

The neoliberal narrative of government helplessness and incompetence would have you believe that this will go nowhere. Governments aren't as powerful as giant corporations, and regulators aren't as smart as the supergeniuses of Big Tech. They don't stand a chance.

But that's a counsel of despair and a cheap trick. Weaker US governments have taken on stronger oligarchies and won – think of the defeat of JD Rockefeller and the breakup of Standard Oil in 1911. The people who pulled that off weren't wizards. They were just determined public servants, with political will behind them. There is a growing, forceful public will to end the rein of Big Tech, and there are some determined public servants surfing that will.

In this paper, the authors try to give those enforcers ammo to bring to court and to the public. For example, Amazon claims that its algorithm surfaces the products that make the public happy, without the need for competitive pressure to keep it sharp. But as the paper points out, the only successful new rival ecommerce platform – Tiktok – has found an audience for an entirely new category of goods: dupes, "lower-cost products that have the same or better features than higher cost branded products."

The authors also identify "dark patterns" that platforms use to trick users into consuming feeds that have a higher volume of things that the company profits from, and a lower volume of things that users want to see. For example, platforms routinely switch users from a "following" feed – consisting of things posted by people the user asked to hear from – with an algorithmic "For You" feed, filled with the things the company's shareholders wish the users had asked to see.

Calling this a "dark pattern" reveals just how hollow and self-aggrandizing that term is. "Dark pattern" usually means "fraud." If I ask to see posts from people I like, and you show me posts from people who'll pay you for my attention instead, that's not a sophisticated sleight of hand – it's just a scam. It's the social media equivalent of the eBay seller who sends you an iPhone box with a bunch of gravel inside it instead of an iPhone. Tech bros came up with "dark pattern" as a way of flattering themselves by draping themselves in the mantle of dopamine-hacking wizards, rather than unimaginative con-artists who use a computer to rip people off.

These For You algorithmic feeds aren't just a way to increase the load of sponsored posts in a feed – they're also part of the multi-sided ripoff of enshittified platforms. A For You feed allows platforms to trick publishers and performers into thinking that they are "good at the platform," which both convinces to optimize their production for that platform, and also turns them into Judas Goats who conspicuously brag about how great the platform is for people like them, which brings their peers in, too.

In Veena Dubal's essential paper on algorithmic wage discrimination, she describes how Uber drivers whom the algorithm has favored with (temporary) high per-ride rates brag on driver forums about their skill with the app, bringing in other drivers who blame their lower wages on their failure to "use the app right":

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4331080

As I wrote in my enshittification essay:

If you go down to the midway at your county fair, you'll spot some poor sucker walking around all day with a giant teddy bear that they won by throwing three balls in a peach basket.

The peach-basket is a rigged game. The carny can use a hidden switch to force the balls to bounce out of the basket. No one wins a giant teddy bear unless the carny wants them to win it. Why did the carny let the sucker win the giant teddy bear? So that he'd carry it around all day, convincing other suckers to put down five bucks for their chance to win one:

https://boingboing.net/2006/08/27/rigged-carny-game.html

The carny allocated a giant teddy bear to that poor sucker the way that platforms allocate surpluses to key performers – as a convincer in a "Big Store" con, a way to rope in other suckers who'll make content for the platform, anchoring themselves and their audiences to it.

Platform can't run the giant teddy-bear con unless there's a For You feed. Some platforms – like Tiktok – tempt users into a For You feed by making it as useful as possible, then salting it with doses of enshittification:

https://www.forbes.com/sites/emilybaker-white/2023/01/20/tiktoks-secret-heating-button-can-make-anyone-go-viral/

Other platforms use the (ugh) "dark pattern" of simply flipping your preference from a "following" feed to a "For You" feed. Either way, the platform can't let anyone keep the giant teddy-bear. Once you've tempted, say, sports bros into piling into the platform with the promise of millions of free eyeballs, you need to withdraw the algorithm's favor for their content so you can give it to, say, astrologers. Of course, the more locked-in the users are, the more shit you can pile into that feed without worrying about them going elsewhere, and the more giant teddy-bears you can give away to more business users so you can lock them in and start extracting rent.

For regulators, the possibility of a "good" algorithmic feed presents a serious challenge: when a feed is bad, how can a regulator tell if its low quality is due to the platform's incompetence at blocking spammers or guessing what users want, or whether it's because the platform is extracting rents?

The paper includes a suite of recommendations, including one that I really liked:

Regulators, working with cooperative industry players, would define reportable metrics based on those that are actually used by the platforms themselves to manage search, social media, e-commerce, and other algorithmic relevancy and recommendation engines.

In other words: find out how the companies themselves measure their performance. Find out what KPIs executives have to hit in order to earn their annual bonuses and use those to figure out what the company's performance is – ad load, ratio of organic clicks to ad clicks, average click-through on the first organic result, etc.

They also recommend some hard rules, like reserving a portion of the top of the screen for "organic" search results, and requiring exact matches to show up as the top result.

I've proposed something similar, applicable across multiple kinds of digital businesses: an end-to-end principle for online services. The end-to-end principle is as old as the internet, and it decrees that the role of an intermediary should be to deliver data from willing senders to willing receivers as quickly and reliably as possible. When we apply this principle to your ISP, we call it Net Neutrality. For services, E2E would mean that if I subscribed to your feed, the service would have a duty to deliver it to me. If I hoisted your email out of my spam folder, none of your future emails should land there. If I search for your product and there's an exact match, that should be the top result:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/platforms-decay-lets-put-users-first

One interesting wrinkle to framing platform degradation as a failure to connect willing senders and receivers is that it places a whole host of conduct within the regulatory remit of the FTC. Section 5 of the FTC Act contains a broad prohibition against "unfair and deceptive" practices:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

That means that the FTC doesn't need any further authorization from Congress to enforce an end to end rule: they can simply propose and pass that rule, on the grounds that telling someone that you'll show them the feeds that they ask for and then not doing so is "unfair and deceptive."

Some of the other proposals in the paper also fit neatly into Section 5 powers, like a "sticky" feed preference. If I tell a service to show me a feed of the people I follow and they switch it to a For You feed, that's plainly unfair and deceptive.

All of this raises the question of what a post-Big-Tech feed would look like. In "How To Break Up Amazon" for The Sling, Peter Carstensen and Darren Bush sketch out some visions for this:

https://www.thesling.org/how-to-break-up-amazon/

They imagine a "condo" model for Amazon, where the sellers collectively own the Amazon storefront, a model similar to capacity rights on natural gas pipelines, or to patent pools. They see two different ways that search-result order could be determined in such a system:

"specific premium placement could go to those vendors that value the placement the most [with revenue] shared among the owners of the condo"

or

"leave it to owners themselves to create joint ventures to promote products"

Note that both of these proposals are compatible with an end-to-end rule and the other regulatory proposals in the paper. Indeed, all these policies are easier to enforce against weaker companies that can't afford to maintain the pretense that they are headquartered in some distant regulatory haven, or pay massive salaries to ex-regulators to work the refs on their behalf:

https://www.thesling.org/in-public-discourse-and-congress-revolvers-defend-amazons-monopoly/

The re-emergence of intermediaries on the internet after its initial rush of disintermediation tells us something important about how we relate to one another. Some authors might be up for directly selling books to their audiences, and some drivers might be up for creating their own taxi service, and some merchants might want to run their own storefronts, but there's plenty of people with something they want to offer us who don't have the will or skill to do it all. Not everyone wants to be a sysadmin, a security auditor, a payment processor, a software engineer, a CFO, a tax-preparer and everything else that goes into running a business. Some people just want to sell you a book. Or find a date. Or teach an online class.

Intermediation isn't intrinsically wicked. Intermediaries fall into pits of enshitffication and other forms of rent-seeking when they aren't disciplined by competitors, by regulators, or by their own users' ability to block their bad conduct (with ad-blockers, say, or other self-help measures). We need intermediaries, and intermediaries don't have to turn into rent-seeking feudal warlords. That only happens if we let it happen.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/03/subprime-attention-rent-crisis/#euthanize-rentiers

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[samgirl98]

Wail of the Silent 2/?

Prev | Next

TW: this chapter mentions suicide and thoughts of self-harm. Proceed with caution. Do not read if this triggers you

Danny Fenton, aka Phantom, flew over the smog-ridden city. It was cloudy, the sky threatening to release rain. He couldn’t see the stars.

(Not that it was possible to see them in the crime-ridden city.)

He had finally reached Gotham City.

“Of all the places Spectra could’ve run off to, it just had to be Gotham.”

Of course, considering all the city's misery, it made sense that Penelope Spectra would find her way there.

“Now I have to dodge the stupid Bats while looking for her.”

Still, as much as he grumbled, he was responsible for protecting people from ghosts. Ever since he told his parents the truth two years ago, they more or less accepted him (even while they kicked him out of the house.), and he had had more time to capture ghosts.

They gave him gadgets and access to the portal (as long as they supervised.) and paid for his apartment while giving him some money. And, bonus, they no longer shot at him and didn’t want to dissect him.

(Did they love him, though? They had kicked him out of his only home when he was eighteen…)

Thankfully, Danny had been able to make his patented inventions that focused on protection from ghosts instead of offensive weapons, so he was getting some income from that. After all, the people of Amity Park would rather have something that protected them than fight ghosts.

He had been able to graduate high school, but he couldn’t go to college. Jazz was encouraging him to take some courses in community college. She argued that since his parents were helping with capturing ghosts (and releasing them instead of experimenting on them.), he should at least think about doing more than ghost hunting.

He couldn’t. Danny had a responsibility to Amity Park. Besides, he had powers; he couldn’t not use them to protect his town. It was his fault the ghosts were coming through in the first place.

 If I hadn’t opened the portal…if I hadn’t been a stupid teenager…

The portal was mainly closed now, but natural portals spawned almost weekly in Amity Park, allowing any ghost to get through. This time, Spectra had come through again. She had caused havoc in Amity Park. Three had died, two by their own hands by the time he had figured out that Spectra had had a hand in it. When she figured out Danny was after her, Spectra fled Amity Park.

So, he followed her.

At the moment, he had left Amity Park in the hands of the Red Huntress and his little more capable parents. Spectra was not a ghost that should be allowed in the mortal plane. He’s seen what happens when she feeds on someone too long.

(He could still see the shadow of a hanging body…)

Danny made it invisibly to the top of the tallest building he could find. Wayne Tower was in the middle of an island Danny had found out was called Old Gotham. (Thank you, Google Maps.) He could see the city sprawl in front of him. Danny decided to remain invisible in case any Bats were around. He knew he wasn’t a meta (he was dead, it was a medical condition), but he was sure Batman wouldn’t see it that way.

Looking at the city before him, Danny had no idea where to start. There were so many angry shades and ghosts hanging around that he couldn’t pinpoint Spectra’s unique ectosignature with the Ecto-finder he had with him. And Danny’s ghost sense was useless as it kept going off every other street.

Danny sighed. He decided to go in a random direction when he heard it—no, he felt it.

A ghost was wailing in pain. It was broadcasting its agony and torment to every ghost, shade, and Danny. The wail turned into a roar before suddenly cutting off. The silence that followed left Danny feeling disoriented.

Danny went in the direction that the ghost had projected its pain. He had to help. No one should have to deal with that suffering alone. Besides, if he could feel it, Danny knew Spectra would pinpoint the misery still coating the air.

Danny flew into the night, determined to help.

____

Jason got up, knowing he couldn’t sleep any longer that night.

His shoulders curved inward from the heavy feeling he felt on his back.

(Spectra smiled as her shadowy hands held onto Jason’s shoulders.)

He started making a cup of tea when his feelings reached a crescendo. The cup Jason was holding on to hit the floor and broke. Jason stared at the shattered pieces and felt the sudden urge to use one to stop the crawling under his skin.

(Spectra amplified the need to hurt himself. She smiled as the boy’s emotions fed her powers.)

It was only Jason’s stubbornness that stopped him from doing it. He ignored the broken pieces of glass and sat on the couch. Silent tears left tracks on his cheeks. He wanted his dad, his family—anyone to stop what he was feeling.

He felt he was going insane!

(Spectra smiled and inwardly hoped the boy would last longer than her other victims. His misery made her youthful quicker than any other victim, and more powerful.)

Just as Jason felt his mind was going to break, the feelings went away suddenly, leaving Jason panting hard.

(Spectra felt when Phantom got close and left.)

Jason pulled his hair, wanting, needing the physical pain to ground him to the present.

What was happening to him?

(Spectra smiled as she stared at her reflection at a random window. Her skin was glowing, and her face was free of wrinkles. Spectra’s hair was shining and luxurious. Yes, she hoped the boy would last a while.  

Her smile grew as the ghost boy flew overhead, completely missing her.)

____

Though the city of Gotham seemed like a cruel, cold mistress, she cared for her people in her way.

Every vile villain, hero, anti-hero, and citizen was welcomed into her dark and shadowy bosom. The shades and ghosts who had lived and died in her dark alleys and streets knew their mistress would take care of them.

So, when a new ghost showed up and started targeting one of her knights (not just any knight but the one who had been born in her old buildings, the one who had been raised and shaped in her streets. The one she could not save as he had died so far from her soil.), she felt a visceral anger deep in her being.

How dare this spirit come and target her favored knight? She would not let the ghost get away from it. Lady Gotham let her consciousness spread throughout the city, trying, needing to find a way to help…There! A young half-ghost, looking, searching, wanting to help.

She guided the young ghost to her knight—the one who had suffered at the hands of the Joker and his father. (Even now, she doesn’t protect Bruce Wayne as much as she used to, only if it was necessary. The shadows of the city no longer covered him as tightly as they used to.)

She would do whatever she could to help Jason Todd.

The last part was a surprise to me. I hadn't intended to make Gotham a sentient city, but she decided to come screaming out in full force. Yes, Lady Gotham is holding a grudge against Bruce for hurting Jason.

[freshstitches]

Last week, I made a post about warp knitting. I originally wanted to include some info about the history of the warp knitting frame, so I did a quick Google search and found this unhinged image

It makes no mention of Josiah Crane's hand warp knitting machine patented in 1775, but does mention that "Male got involved in knitting and knitting became a profession" at least 80 years before people started to teach each other to knit.

Don't trust info from textileschool.com

[rabbithaver]

incredible fursona art by @aoiblueskyyy !!!

rabbithaver's patented introduction poast

hi there! my name is Rabbit and i use they/them pronouns! i am a gendervoid autistic snow leopard guy from Colorado. i am 26 years old (born October 6) and aromantic pansexual, but i prefer to call myself gay because it's easier to explain. i'm also multiply disabled. i am HoH (hard of hearing) and i have severe chronic back pain, as well as some other health issues that limit my energy levels. i have several worms in my brain mental illnesses as well. i can't work because of these things, so i have a lot of free time and very little money.

right now i'm hyperfixating really intensely on the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise. i got into it for real back in May of 2023 after watching a playthrough of Sonic Frontiers. before that, my appreciation for the series was strictly ironic. now it's completely genuine. Silver is my son that i've legally adopted. i found him in a cardboard box on the side of the road, sopping wet from the rain and all by himself.

i am also into Star Trek, Fallout, the Elder Scrolls, Pacific Rim, Supernatural, and like four hundred other things. if you're also into any of those things, i have great news for you: you're gonna see a lot of them on this blog.

also, if you even think about asking me about discourse, i will zap you with my incredible laser eyes. i have so much anxiety and no money! i do not have the energy to care about what other people on the internet are doing!

LINKS WORTH CHECKING OUT

my '#bunnies' tag is where i post pictures of my pet rabbits! i also have a dedicated '#bun tag' for bunny picture reblogs. if you're having a bad day i recommend scrolling through both.

my '#terin.pets' tag is where i post pictures of my pet cat, Fluffurnicus! and also bunny pics.

wanna know more about me? posts that resonate with me go in my '#about me' tag.

check out my fursona's google document! chirp is a purple snow leopard and also what i look like irl :)

read about my main Sonic OC, Oracle! due to a Time Stone & Chaos Emerald experiment going horrifically wrong, she's simultaneously alive and dead: basically Schrödinger's mink. it didnt agree with her and kind of drove her mad, so she's gonna try and kill Silver about it. you can also read some of my posts about her and her story in my '#omenhunter au' tag!

MY VARIOUS SIDE BLOGS:

@bumblekastclips is my sideblog where i transcribe BumbleKast questions! if you're into Sonic stuff, check it out!

@lawyerenjoyer is my retired Ace Attorney sideblog. i didn't post there often enough to justify having a side blog for AA lmao

@stellastarcrash is my kin blog. if you don't vibe with kin stuff that's cool, just don't be a hater <3 thanks!

[goodluckclove]

(about the what keeps you from writing post) personally the thing that i struggle with when it comes to writing is just focus. i can't focus on writing for shit, and even if i really like an idea, it feels like it just never gets down on paper, you know

So, uh, I'm going into this under the assumption that you don't have something akin to ADHD. I have something in that vein, I think, but I don't know the extent of it and therefore do not feel qualified to give advice on how to manage it. Especially for a beginning writer, because if I'm on that spectrum it's definitely more hyper fixation than executive dysfunction at this point.

I have a colleague who comes to me a lot when she's struggling to focus on actually putting words to proverbial paper. What I usually say is something along the lines of If I were to tell you to write me a hundred words of your story right now, how would you react? What would you think?

If focus is not symptomatic when it comes to art, it usually has a meaning.

Maybe the idea is interesting, but you don't know where to start. If this is the case, good knows - you can just start literally anywhere. Preferably the angle that sounds the most interesting to you. Imagine you're eight years old and you have the whole afternoon to play in the park with your favorite toys, what would be the first thing you'd act out with them?

It might not be the right start for the finished project, but it's a start. Throwing words at the wall is a valid strategy for a lot of people, and it's better than doing nothing at all.

Or maybe it's different. Maybe you've been working on an existing idea and you've suddenly lost focus on it. Why keep writing, when you can instead scroll the Google Image search results that come up when you search "sweaters for rats"?

I've found when that happens, a quality answer is often to purposefully break your own rules. It's kind of an old NaNoWriMo trick that I'm frankly surprised I don't see more new writers using. I think there's a new culture in the scene where you need to start off with the exact methodology and craft of an established author, which baffles me endlessly. Not only is it patently untrue, but by doing this you're denying every new writer's God-given right to be a crazy fucking gremlin.

Stuck in your story? Kill a character. Make two other characters kiss. Add a fucking dream sequence. Oh but people won't like it buddy will you? Will it make you laugh or smile, or generally just be interested in your own story? Because that's what matters. That's what's going to give you a finished project. You can make it normal later if you want, but if you choose not to you'd also be making some crazy artistic gumbo and I will definitely be coming back for seconds.

The key is that it has to be something that you genuinely think is cool and funny and exciting and neat. Because you like it, not because you think other people will or because you think it makes you look better or more profound. If you use any weird trick or plot point in absolute, unironic earnestness, I genuinely believe the worst thing you'd end up with is a finished first draft that needs some restructuring.

Which doesn't sound too bad to me!

[storys-from-eli]

You went about your day like any other. Nothing special, today it was just very warm for a early spring day, so you took off your jacket. It was already evening, some birds chirped towards the sunset. The sky was clear and after a hard day you bought yourself a cold drink and sat on a park bench on your way back home. You opened your phone and scrolled around a bit. You didn't know what you wanted to do for the rest of the day, whether you would meet up with friends or just go home and throw yourself into bed?

When you looked up briefly you saw a woman sitting across from you, on the other side of the park, which wasn't really big, but across from you, somehow. A real quite one, so you looked over and thought to yourself, who wears Barrett's? She wore a dark blue barrett with a dark dress, it shimmered slightly in the low light. With her light, brunette hair, it was a cute combo. She was reading a book, but you couldn't tell what it was from that distance. When your gaze had been on her for an uncomfortably long time, you looked down at your phone again.

Should I go over and talk to her? But what should I talk about, the book? It could work, but I hardly ever read, I wouldn't be able to answer anything then, you thought to yourself. When you want to look over again, the woman is suddenly right in front of you. You have half a heart attack. The woman speaks to you in a shallow and calm voice, asks what time it is. You first look at your watch, then at your phone, cause your watch seems to have stopped. It probably wasn't the best idea to get the cheap watch.

You say it's 5 minutes to 8 o'clock. The woman looks down at you in surprise and asks how you know that so well? You look surprised and show her the clock on your phone, whereupon she leans her arms on your knees and stares at the phone. You're completely surprised at what's happening when she asks if you could explain your phone to her. At first you're confused as to whether she's kidding you, but you go into it and start to explain that you can take pictures or send messages to others or call them directly.

She sits right next to you, listening very intently. You're only now noticing what shimmering green eyes she has. You also notice her white tights for the first time in the shadows or her black patent ballerinas. She looked completely out of time.

Your heart felt heavy, she was so innocent and cute. She asked you if you could come over again tomorrow at the same time? You immediately agreed and wanted to get something out of your jacket, but as soon as you turned back to her she had already disappeared again. Now you just realized that something was fishy. You felt like you had woken up from a trance state.

The sun had disappeared and suddenly it was 30 minutes after 8 o'clock. So when you finally got home you entered the park directly into Google to find out what had just happened. But you just found random articles about gardening at first until you came across an article that was a hundred years old. This was about an accident involving a young woman on the grounds of what was then a much larger park. Are you on a date with a ghost now??

[rustcleaver]

It Falters On The Horizon (Chapter 1)

Fnaf Eclipse x gn reader, 6k words

(it/they/he pronouns are used for Eclipse)

If any of you have an ao3 invite I could use, I would be deeply grateful <3

Waking up for work on a Tuesday morning isn’t all that bad if you like your job. It doesn’t even need to be particularly glamorous; anything that doesn’t make you want to crumple to the floor like a tinfoil ball by the end of your shift is a win. And anything beats retail. So you’re pretty satisfied with your decent pay (and flexible hours) at the Fazbear Entertainment™ Mega Pizzaplex©. You even get to google conspiracy theories on company time, it’s great.

Your alarm rings, and you feel at least half the joints in your spine crack as you sit up to turn it off. It takes a minute of flailing like an indignant carp before you’re able to roll out of bed and onto your feet. You grab your Fazwatch© (patent pending) from its little charging station and its screen buzzes to life. A few practiced button-taps show you the day’s schedule. All the tours are at the regular times, showing the same schedule as it did last night. Maybe you don’t need to check it as often as you do, but management has made last-minute changes before, and it’s pretty fair to assume it will happen again. For some reason or another, the tour times will sometimes get moved around or cancelled on the day-of. After a month on the job, you’re comfortable enough in your routine to give a tour on 5-minute’s notice. (You had to last Friday. That was a new low, even for Faz-management.) But everything looks fine today, so you shouldn’t have to whip out The Ol’ Fazbear Entertainment Approved Apology Spiel for any poor customers who might miss the sudden change in their tour times. 

You once bet $50 that management will try to move a tour to some time in the past. The staff bot that cleans at your end of Rockstar Row is often the recipient of your quips, and it only stopped sweeping for a second to acknowledge your comment. You still aren’t sure if it knows what money is, and you probably don’t have 50 bucks to spare, anyway. You guys can probably just call it even. Besides, you think it found the joke funny (it made a single ‘ha’ sound), so that’s probably all that matters.

You used to be surprised by the number of people you can find in the pizzaplex at the asscrack of dawn, but the magic of the place (and the meticulously crafted ads on kids’ youtube) always attracts a small crowd. Weekdays are pretty quiet in the mornings, but there’s always someone visiting the pizzaplex. It’s a lavish place that probably pays more money for the monthly electricity than you will ever see in your life, but you’re sure the company can afford it easily with the number of guests they get. With how stupidly overpriced some of the stuff is here, you’re sure those guys have plenty of funds to spare. You really don’t get why management will always cut corners and be so cheap, then turn around and drop hundreds of thousands on some shiny new robot. Fickle, those guys.

Anyways, back to your own work:

Thankfully, it’s never too busy back at Rockstar Row during the day when the animatronics are performing or going to private birthday parties. You can hear their music if you listen for it, but all the festivities are distant enough that they don’t disturb you. The voices, cheers, and catchy tunes blend together in a gentle hum-drone of white noise. You keep saying that you’re gonna watch a performance one of these days, but you want to go at a time when you won’t get lost in a sea of pre-teens and their exhausted parents, so you keep putting it off. Usually, none of said pre-teens or parents are hanging around Rockstar Row when you prepare for the day, so you can have your peace of mind as you clock in. You can even whistle a bit of copyrighted music while dusting off the ol’ display cases without getting a single disapproving email from management. Throughout the day, you give a couple of tours down the Row to tell the history and legends of the old Fazbear pizzerias, throwing in some popular conspiracy theories and horror stories for spice. There’s plenty of time in between the tours of this makeshift museum when you usually just sit around in case anybody needs directions or something. All-in-all, it’s a pretty nice job. And you’re pretty darn good at it, too. Nobody knows how to redirect a customer to somebody who actually knows how to help with whatever wild shit happened to their kid quite like you do.

Sometimes, Rockstar Row gets kinda crowded at the end of the day when the animatronics are doing meet-n-greets in their rooms. There aren’t any museum tours at this time (thank Faz), so you get to sit down at your little desk area and watch how these vibrant characters and their equally dazzling personalities capture the attention of the crowds. They’re real pros at what they do; you can’t help but smile at their acts, even from a distance. 

There have been a few times when there wasn’t anyone waiting in line to chat with one of the animatronics, so Freddy or Roxy will sometimes come over to say hi when you wave to them. You’ve been hoping to introduce yourself to Monty and Chica, but their rooms aren’t really visible from your corner of Rockstar Row (and you don’t want to intrude when anyone’s busy), so you’re limited to the other two at the moment. Freddy is very popular and very busy, he is the titular character after all, so you’ve probably spoken to Roxy the most. She once expressed gratitude that she doesn’t have to maintain her usual act and energy when she talks with you. It was a pretty serious and vulnerable comment, so you wanted to respond in a positive and encouraging manner. The somewhat goofy thumbs-up that you gave her (clearly not the expected response) made her laugh so hard that Freddy came over, concerned that her voicebox was glitching out. The memory makes you smile as you clock in for the day.

---

On this morning, this perfectly average Tuesday morning, you do a double-take at one of the display cases. Empty. It definitely isn’t supposed to be, so you walk over to take a look at it. You stop a couple of inches away from the glass and squint at it like this is some optical illusion. Yep, definitely empty, no amount of rubber-necking or suspicious glances appear to be changing that. Also, it looks like the top panel has been unceremoniously smashed in. In fact, it took you a perfectly normal amount of time to notice that the whole upper half of the glass box is shattered. Yes. And, like the awe-inspiring detective you are, you start looking around on the floor. You know, just in case the old Chica arm had hopped out of its display case and was lying around somewhere. Okay, so maybe it’s a little hard to wake up on a Tuesday no matter what your job is. 

You’re almost surprised that management didn’t tell you about the missing exhibits before your shift, but then you remember how low they keep setting the bar. They probably didn’t know, or didn’t care. You move to check the rest of the displays yourself and see that an original Fredbear top hat has also disappeared. This horrible loss is enough to properly wake you up. That was your favorite exhibit. It was a nice little hat that will be sorely missed. You take a minute to grieve the tragic loss before you see your good pal (the staff bot who you might owe $50 to someday) vacuuming around the golden Roxy statue. You jog over to it and give a little wave.

“Hey! How’s it going?” You say. It turns off the vacuum and looks over at you. It blinks twice and gives you a thumbs-up. 

“Happy to hear it! Doesn’t look like you got covered in soda like last week, so that’s good. Hey, if that ever happens again, you can come to me if you need a hand with cleaning it off. I’m getting pretty good with those chem wipes. Also, two of the exhibits are missing: the Chica arm and the old top hat. Do you know anything about that?” You ask, remembering your original mission mid-sentence and pointing at the crime scene. In response, the staff bot looks at the ground for a minute, then tilts its head quizzically. It turns to look down the hallway and makes a little ping sound at a nearby security bot. The security bot comes over and the two of them look at each other silently for a minute. Robot-to-robot conversation, robot-to-robot communication. The security bot looks briefly at the floor like the staff bot did, then the two resume their telepathic chat. You begin to wonder if you should ask again later when they both turn to look at you. The security bot beeps a few times. 

“...Did you see anything suspicious around the displays recently?” You offer, guessing at what the security bot is trying to communicate. It shakes its head in response. 

“Can you check the security camera footage from last night?” It nodds this time. 

“Great! So, do you see anything..?” You wait a moment. Maybe the security bot didn’t hear you? It keeps looking at you but doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. Your fazwatch buzzes on your wrist, and you read the screen, confused.

REQUESTING SECURITY CLEARANCE ...

...

APPROVED

UPDATED SECURITY CLEARANCE FOR: DAYCARE ENTRANCE

Ok. Well, that’s something. But the daycare has been closed for long before you even got hired, and you doubt that whoever stole the two displays would have any reason to put them there. (Our great detective has deemed this a case of larceny, deducing that there iss a thief afoot.)

“The daycare? You want me to go to the old daycare..?” You ask. The security bot nods. 

“Shouldn’t I go to the security office for this sort of thing?” It doesn’t respond. Your fazwatch opens the pizzaplex map and begins charting a course for the daycare. There’s your answer, you suppose. The security bot begins rolling back to its post and you shout a quick thank-you. Turning back to your dear friend and colleague, staff bot, you shrug.

“Well, the security bots probably know a lot better than I do. I’ve got about an hour, so I’m gonna go check it out. Wish me luck!” You give it a dramatic little salute. It blinks in acknowledgment and goes right back to vacuuming.

---

It always bothered you that “Floor 1” isn’t always the first floor of a building. Sometimes, it’s literally the second floor. You are reminded of this tragedy as you take the elevator down to the “Ground Level” and step out onto the balcony. (Note that even the “Ground Level” has two levels. Fazbear Entertainment really dropped the ball on this one.) You shuffle out of the elevator, leaving room for the family passing by while checking your faz-map. It says that you just have to go left. And there it is, a large pair of doors labeled “Superstar Daycare Pick-Up”. You’ve never had to go inside, but it still shocks you that you never noticed the entrance before. The lights above the door are off and all the paint is faded, so it’s admittedly hard to spot. You hesitate for a second, just standing there, staring at the door handle. You get the sense that you aren’t supposed to be here, like you’re a child about to get caught doing something that you were told not to. Reminding yourself that you were literally told to come here, you try to shake the feeling. As weird as this whole thing is, you’re pretty curious to see whatever the security bot has sent you to find. Besides, if this yields nothing, you can just stop by the security office and ask somebody else for help. You finally turn the handle and step through the door.

Here you find a large, poorly lit, and lifeless area. There are only a few posters on the walls, lit by bands of neon light. Some are of the band, but you notice several that depict a sun figure and a moon figure. These advertise some “Sundrop” and “Moondrop” candies. You find it weird for the Fazbear advertisement team (faz-vertisement, if you will) to come up with new characters just to promote some candy that you’ve never even heard of. Weird when they will typically do whatever they can to “show the audience our beloved cast of Fazbear Ent. characters that you know and love” (reuse the same old clipart of the animatronics for most ads because, collectively, they do not give a single damn). But here are two characters you have never seen before. Something entirely new. A sun and a moon. 

You walk over to the posters and note the layer of dust clinging to them. The sun and moon look very similar in design and are clearly each other’s counterparts. You’re the museum guide, the person who probably knows the most about the pizzaplex’s history, and yet you’ve never heard anything about these two characters. Maybe these were just a part of the daycare’s shtick since the entrance also has a sun and moon on it? You decide to grab a couple of these posters as potential stand-ins for the missing exhibits. Even if you don’t need the interim replacements, you’ll definitely want to look into these characters later. 

You pass a little fountain surrounded by the world’s jankiest fake palm trees on the way to the end of the hall. It’s impossible not to marvel at the dichotomy of how cheap or extravagant Fazbear Entertainment can be. There are some lights around the fountain’s edge, but the water isn’t running, just lying quietly at the basin. Your footsteps echo over the checkered PVC floor tiles and the poor lighting doesn’t let you see the ceiling. It looks like it might go on infinitely. This room feels too big. You grip your phone a little tighter. 

You eventually come to a big, metal shutter door with a little panel to the right. Using your sleeve, you wipe the dust off the screen. After a few taps, it begins to boot up and update. You are presented with a few options, and “Open Daycare Entrance [A]” immediately catches your eye. You press the button and it makes a little ping sound.

 AUTHENTICATING CLEARANCE, PLEASE WAIT… 

Your watch buzzes, and you flinch at it, startled. It shows a loading wheel for just a second before the panel beeps again. 

STAND CLEAR OF SHUTTERS UNTIL FULLY OPEN 

And the metal doors begin to rise. Inside, you spot a golden statue of the sun and moon figures. So they have 3D designs, too. That’s a little too much effort for a couple of candies. This thing looks just as glamorous as the statues of the band members out in Rockstar Row. Impressed, you take a photo and begin walking around this little entrance area filled with chairs. There is a thick net that hangs in front of you with a railing that leaves room for a rainbow slide. The sign above it says “Slide Into Fun!” and points at the opening. Hm. No thanks. 

You lean against the railing and look into the massive space beyond the net. There are a bunch of play structures and a massive river of a ball pit that you can barely make out in the dark. You see a small balcony to your right, on the only wall where there is no netting. It is the only place inside that is properly lit, gleaming in the spotlight, but it doesn’t look like there’s any way to get up to it. Over on the left, you think you see a desk. It’s right next to some large wooden doors, and you’re glad to see a normal entrance so you won’t have to use the slide. It could be fun, don’t get me wrong, but thoughts of dashcon ricochet around your brain as you envision the ball pit at the end. You choose to think about something else. Like your mission! Yes. You’re here to… well, you’re not really sure. Find whatever the security bot wants you to find, I guess. It’s darker in this area, feeling even more abandoned than the fountain area before. You can’t really see, but you doubt that the (potential) thief would choose to stick around in the building, so you don’t think that’s what you’re looking for here. There’s no one else in the entrance area, so you’ll have to go inside the daycare to see if there’s anyone you can talk to. Maybe there’s a security bot who guards the place, and maybe it knows what happened. So, to get inside, you’ll have to make your way down some stairs and circle around the walled-in (netted-in?) daycare area to get to those doors.

Said doors feel a lot taller when you’re right in front of them. It’s a little intimidating, to be honest. From here, you can see the corners of the mechanisms that open the door, and you’re glad that the doorknobs about 20 feet up are just ornamental. This does, unfortunately, leave you with no idea of how to actually open the doors. The thought of flailing about to grab those doorknobs gives you a laugh, at least. For lack of a better idea, you knock on the door. 

“Anybody here? Knock knock.” You say to yourself, trying to come up with a plan to get in. You most certainly don’t expect a reply.

“Who’s there?” Rings a response in a muffled, robotic voice. This makes you jump like a cat. There really is something in there, and it’s definitely not a security bot. But that doesn’t sound like the voice of anybody in the band; it has a completely different intonation and almost rumbles at the end of its words. Each of the glamrocks has a distinctive voice, and this doesn’t match any of them. And, above all else, it just set you up for a knock-knock joke. Now this is serious. It’s one thing to meet a mystery robot in an abandoned area of a technologically-unmatched pizzaplex, but it’s something else to get the perfect set-up for a real bad pun. You’re gonna have to think hard about this one, pull out all the stops. You could use the ol’ classic “Boo-who” but that’s too basic, too predictable. There’s one about yodeling, but you don’t remember how the second part goes, so you’ll have to improvise a bit.

You settle with a “Wa.” 

A few clicks resound behind those doors. You take a small step away from whatever they came from.  

Your mysterious interlocutor responds after a moment, sounding genuinely curious: 

“Wa who?” 

“Mario, is that you?” You offer, hoping that your improvised punch-line makes sense. After a second, a hearty chuckle echoes from inside the daycare. There’s a rumble as the doors before you start to swing open (which makes you jump again, but this time it feels more like the frantic wiggle of a disgruntled worm than the hop of a cat). The doors open slowly, making you wait a moment before gingerly taking a step inside and looking around. 

The darkness is almost complete in here, and the air feels heavy. There is a particularly dark area around the play structure right in front of you, casting even more shadows around itself. Within that darkness, you see a wavering, orange glow. Two pinpricks of light loom above you, shining down from this structure. You realize that this must be your new “friend.”

“I’ve never heard that one before,” It muses, “but I don’t think it’s legally advisable for any Fazbear Entertainment staff to mention Mario by name. Copyright infringement is against the rules.”

You realize that the glowing orange points are a pair of eyes. Eyes that are firmly locked on you during the slow tilt of its head. There are some other glowing areas around them, but they’re dim enough that you can’t make out their shapes.

“Ah, right. Definitely wouldn’t want to cause a lawsuit.” Your voice doesn’t even echo in this cavernous space. You are suddenly made very aware that you’re completely alone with this thing. In the dark. Pretty far away from anyone. Spooky, but you’re being so brave about it. 

The eyes before you do a whirling clockwise spin while the entire patch of orange glow moves rhythmically downwards. You hear something land gently on the floor with the rattle of a bell, crouching to absorb the impact. Those eyes are still on you, and you don’t think they’ve blinked at all. You are aware of how difficult it would be to evacuate this area. Deeply aware.

“Can’t have any guests overhearing the unlicensed use of another company’s character, now can we? Well, we’re alone in here, so I suppose I could let it slide…” The voice gives a dramatic hum as the stranger stands up, eyes rising to a height that towers over you.

“And I did like the joke... Alright, we can overlook this one. But you should be more careful, you know. I’m sure it would be a terrible hassle if Nintendo tried to sue the company again.” There’s a creak of metal and plastic as the figure seems to lean to the left, chuckling to itself. A few bells ring from the light source as its shoulders bounce with the laugh. Then, you hear a gasp.

“Oh- Now where are my manners? This is no way to welcome our new guest!” It speaks with a completely different energy, standing upright again. 

“Do forgive me, and allow me to introduce myself properly!” There’s a tap-tap-tap of steps as those luminous eyes get closer. You shuffle backward and tense at the sudden approach, arms raised defensively. This thing sounds kind enough, but hearing a massive metallic creature approach you from the dark and seeing nothing but its glowing eyes is pretty fucking scary.

Seeing your reaction, it comes to a stop. Now that it’s closer, you can see its eyes flash with a concerned look that darts around your face before landing nervously on the ground. It almost looks like it’s deflating, the way the lights seem to shrink in on themselves. You hear quiet, rapid taps from where you imagined its hands might be held, fidgeting.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry! Did I frighten you? Goodness- that’s no good, no good at all-” It keeps stumbling over its terse apologies, slowly backing away. Its body language makes it seem so much smaller than you, even though this colossal silhouette is obviously anything but. Those eyes are squinted in what might be the start of panic, or dejection. Oh great. We gave the poor robot anxiety.

“No, no, it’s fine- I just got a little, uh... Surprised because I can’t really see what’s happening and I don’t know what-” You’re cut off by the sound of a whack sound coming from the animatronic’s face. You realize it just facepalmed. 

“Of course! Oh, how silly of me, how ridiculous! I can’t very well introduce myself if you can’t even see me, now can I? Here- Give me just a moment-” It turns and disappears into the daycare, its muttering growing distant. You notice that, despite the bells you heard before, it was nearly silent as it left. After a moment of wondering if you should be worried, a click reverberates from above as the lights buzz to life. This causes you to squint for a minute, feeling just as blind as when you were in the dark. You blink until your eyes adjust and look into the now-illuminated daycare. The entire space looks much more inviting in the light; everything popping with color and life. Now, you can finally get a good look at the animatronic who’s approaching, more sheepishly this time. 

It’s easy to tell that they're at least 8 feet tall, even though they bow their head to appear less intimidating. It folds its hands together in the same way that an old lady might when she’s saying something sweet, except this colossal robot has four arms to work with. Double the gesture, double the sentiment, I guess. You think those fingertips might be pointed, but you’re choosing not to look too close. Its face is round with a crescent shape on the inside and two rows of triangles on the outside. You get the impression of one of those sun/moon theater masks: one that might be happy on one side, then sad on the other. There’s a large nightcap sitting at an angle on its head; the end of it rests on his shoulder and sways slightly with each step. All of the robot’s clothing look soft and flowy, giving it a very gentle and elegant appearance. Whatever plastic its face is made of, it’s clearly malleable, allowing the animatronic to make minute shifts in its expression for a precise demonstration of emotions. You have to admit, whoever designed the animatronics here is some kind of genius.

“There. Let me try one more time.” It sighs with an apologetic smile.

The half-sun, half-moon character stops before you and gives a dignified bow, the motion smooth and practiced.

“My name is Eclipse, I am the caretaker of the Superstar Daycare. It’s very nice to meet you. Welcome, and sorry again for the poor first impression.” They address you. Their smile is so genuine that you can’t help but mirror it as you return the greeting, introducing yourself in turn. 

“Come in, come in! Make yourself at home! Here, allow me to get you a seat-” They respond, visibly straightening up now that they know that there’s no hard feelings. You know that they literally glow, but they still seem so radiant with their rejuvenated spirit. That smile of theirs definitely got wider, and they move with a skip in their steps. They pull up two of the few adult-sized chairs and set them by a small, plastic table. It stands by one of the chairs and gestures for you to sit, intending to push in your chair for you. It’s pointedly gentle with this, too, even speaking slightly quieter because you were closer. You have to admit, this Eclipse is quite a charming host, and a fascinating character. After you are seated, they sit in their own chair and rest their upper pair of arms on the table between you, tapping their fingers rhythmically. The anxiety from before is gone, but an excited energy still dances behind those eyes.

“We don’t get a lot of guests, so it truly is an honor! Is there anything I can help you with, my dear guest?” He asks, tilting his head a little. 

“Yes, actually,” You begin, “I’m the tour guide for the museum area along Rockstar Row, and two of the exhibits disappeared last night. The cases were broken, so it looks like they might have been stolen. I tried to ask one of the nearby security bots about it, and it sent me here to learn more.” You point at your faz-watch and Eclipse looks truly enraptured by your every word.

“I see! Terribly sorry to hear about the exhibits, but that does explain a thing or two. I just got a request to authorize someone’s security clearance to come in here. I didn’t know what it could possibly be for, but I guess that must have been you!” 

“Yeah! Though I still don’t get why they wanted me to come here. Especially when there’s a dedicated security office for this sort of thing.” You admit. Eclipse chuckles at that and rests its chin in one of its hands, its eyes narrowing with a cheeky flaire.

“If I had to guess, that would be because I’m the head of security, here at the Pizzaplex.” His grin seems to widen at your surprise. He titters briefly before continuing, each laugh lighter than the flutter of a moth’s wing.

“Yes, funny how the head of security isn’t in the security office, isn’t it? Well, there’s rarely anything that requires my input down there. Though, I wonder why they didn’t just show you the camera footage when you asked, even if you aren’t security personnel-” He trails off, closing his eyes for a moment. His brows furrow and his smile slips for just a moment.

“Ah. So that’s why… But surely it would have…” They go quiet for a little longer, eyes flickering about beneath their eyelids. They hum quizzically as they open their eyes and look back at you with an unreadable expression.

“It looks like there are no recordings from the Rockstar Row’s security cameras from last night… But I’m certain I was able to see through them at the time, and I didn’t receive any kind of notifications about them malfunctioning later… That’s…” It gives a defeated laugh.

“It looks like I’ll have to investigate a bit more thoroughly, then.” They conclude, shrugging with their second pair of arms. 

“Well then! I’ll be in contact if I find anything, but you should go get ready for today’s tours.” He waves a hand and you feel your faz-watch buzz in response. On the screen, you see a message from Eclipse that just says “Hello :)” from a messaging app that management occasionally contacts you with. On the time above the notification, you can see that there are only 10 minutes until the first tour starts. Oh shit. You need to get moving. Eclipse springs to his feet and motions you to the door with a flourish of all four arms. 

“Feel free to message me if you need anything else, we’re always happy to help. It’s truly been lovely meeting you, and good luck with today’s tours!” They conclude with a showman’s poise. You thank them as you hurry out the door, to the stairs. Before leaving the daycare, you turn to give the grand play area one last glance, hoping to wave to Eclipse on the way out. You aren’t able to spot them, just a metal cable unfurling from the ceiling, falling to a point behind one of the play structures. Then, the lights go out, leaving you in a little hollow of light around the golden sun and moon statue. It’s a bit sad that you couldn’t say another goodbye, but you decide you’ll make up for it when you aren’t possibly running late for work. You are very grateful for the reminder, but you’re certain you never told them when the first tour was starting.

- - -

You return to Rockstar Row with 7 minutes to spare. Thankfully, your favorite staff bot has been kind enough to clean up the broken glass around the missing exhibits while you were gone. You make a mental note to thank them later, then make a physical note to place by the exhibits: 

“This exhibit is temporarily absent for routine maintenance and repairs” You write with your best handwriting and hope that it sounds official enough that the guests won’t interrogate you about it. You are so caught up in thinking about excuses you can give people or where you might find a temporary replacement that you don’t notice the heavy footsteps that stop right behind you.

“Hey, heads up. Somebody’s gonna walk right into ya if you’re spacing out in the middle of the walkway.” A voice snaps you out of it. You turn to see a pair of nonchalant, red eyes looking down at you over a pair of star-shaped shades. The legendary Montgomery Gator himself stands in front of you, with one hand on his hip and his head tilted like he’s somewhere between casual and completely uninterested. 

“Right, yeah. Didn’t mean to get in your way, sorry.” You take a step back, out of the way, shaking your head once to clear your mind like an etch-a-sketch. 

“Don’t sweat it.” Monty adjusts his sunglasses. You expect the animatronic to keep walking, but he’s still looking at you, so you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, you’re the museum guide, right? Not that you can call this handful of trinkets much of a museum... I heard you got hired a while back, but I never got the chance to see for myself. So, I’m Monty.” It seems he’s landed on casual over disinterested as he holds out his hand for a handshake. You return it, both of you giving a firm couple of shakes and feeling some mutual respect for it. It isn’t every day that someone returns a nice, solid handshake with the same amount of gusto. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you! I was trying to find the time to properly introduce myself, but this works, too. And yeah, we lost two exhibits last night, so the museum’s looking even more sparse than usual. Not really sure how I’m going to fill the tour time I usually spend on those, but I’ve only got 5 minutes to figure it out.” You say, shaking your head and shrugging in exaggerated defeat.

“Yeah, I noticed the empty cases. That’s tough. Someone should probably remove the broken glass, though; some kid’s gonna get hurt on that. So, did somebody steal ‘em?” He asks. He’s nonchalant about it, but he seems genuinely interested. Maybe there’s a secret passion for gossip and drama under that rough exterior... Or maybe he’s just concerned for everyone’s safety. Either way, his eyes are still locked on you.

“That’s what it seems like, but I’m not sure. I asked around and nobody seems to know what happened- the staff bots were even saying that they can’t access the security footage from last night… Well, I’m sure this incident has already been reported or logged in whatever system, so it’s probably out of my hands. Still, I’m gonna ask around for any signs of a break-in. Oh, speaking of, did you see anything weird last night?” You realize just how little you know about the situation as you recount everything, it’s all so odd. Monty immediately shrugs and shakes his head at your question, which is only a little disappointing. 

“Nope, I did a little patrolling around the atrium last night, but I spent most of my free time playin’ the bass.” He says, making air guitar motions for emphasis. Suddenly, he flashes a playful smile, then gives you a suspicious side-eye.

“Hey, you think I’m a suspect or something? This is startin’ to feel like an interrogation- I do have an alibi if you’re not convinced by my testimony, detective.” He makes sure to bitterly enunciate every syllable of the word. If he wasn’t smiling, you might think he was being serious, but you play along.

“Hmm, I really can’t rule it out… Anyone could be the perp- even me! No one suspects the detective, after all!” You dramatically wiggle your fingers at him, to which he feigns a shocked gasp. It’s incredible how these guys can make such realistic breath sounds with their voiceboxes. 

“We should’a known it was you, you connivin’ little punk!” He really hams up the act, pointing at you and everything. You laugh a couple times, internally commending his dedication to the bit. Even though you just met, he’s joking around with you like you’re old friends. It’s nice to be treated like you’re a cool dude without having to prove anything, and Monty immediately gives you that respect. You appreciate it.

“Seriously though: I don’t think you could wear the tophat with that mohawk of yours, and god knows what you would even need an old Chica arm for. So, I think you’re off the hook for now.” You gaze off towards your desk and the exhibits nearby it. There appears to be a small crowd gathering over there. You’re wondering what that’s all about when it strikes you.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be late for the tour.” You say, deadpan. After a beat, you start running over to your desk, dodging a kid. You don’t turn around, but you briefly look over your shoulder to say goodbye.

“See ya later, alligator!” Which works doubly well because he really is an alligator. You catch an amused Monty in the corner of your eye, and it seems like he gets the joke when he barks a single laugh.

“In a while, crocodile!” He shouts after you.

[bizarre-blorbo-bracket]

Round 1 poll 13: Rev. Green from Cluedo vs the Nachtraven from Nachtraven

Propaganda under the cut:

Rev. Green:

1) Literally just a random board game character 😪 2) Ok so basically here’s the deal. One day, about a year and a half or two years ago, I saw some random thing related to Clue online. I (dual U.S. American and Russian citizen, because I was born in America to an immigrant parent, I PROMISE this is important) was confused because among the cast of characters was “Mr. Green”. Now, I hadn’t played Clue in a very long time. It wasn’t my favorite game as a kid, my only memories of it were wanting to play as Ms. Peacock and then my brother taking her and making me pick someone else, but I was pretty confident the character was Reverend Green. What happened? Was he excommunicated?? I kind of figured the name was just changed to reflect a more secular culture and that I had unknowingly played an old copy of the game as a kid.

But it fascinated me. So I spent months on and off researching the topic. (poorly, might I add, it wasn’t a complicated issue. But still.) I found out about many changes from version to version. Clue Junior, Clue VCR Mystery, Clue Master Detectives, all of it. And the whole time, Green was there to greet me in each new version. It was the first thing I always checked. Was he Mister or Reverend? I found out in one version he was a defrocked priest turned businessman, and in another a scam artist who pretended to be a member of the clergy to pull of a scheme. Closer. I ran polls, I went to irl Clue events, and eventually I found what I was looking for the whole time. Green was a Reverend in the 1944 patent of the game, and the subsequent 1949 U.K. release of Cluedo. But, because of fear that U.S. Citizens would take issue with a member of the church being suspected of murder, Parker Brothers changed the name to Mister Green for the U.S. release.

That all could have taken me five minutes of googling, but honestly the chase made the result so much more worth it. And yet, there was something more there in the back of my mind. This all was well and good, but why was I so sure of the U.K. version of the name? My father’s family is Irish so we have a pretty healthy hatred of all things British, there’s no way my dad would’ve had us play that version of the game. Right? But thanks to a response from a poll I ran, I found out that the German version also went with Reverend. Because Green is an Anglican, I kind of assumed that the U.S. change might have been carried over into other international releases. But no! That made me realize that Mister Green is an outlier and that almost all languages of the game use Reverend. So then last night the pieces finally clicked together. I asked my mom to confirm a hunch I had, not expecting her to at all remember something this trivial. Like I said, I didn’t play it much as a kid. Maybe we didn’t even own a copy, and I had just played it at a library or a hurricane shelter or a relative’s house or something. But she remembered. We did, in fact, own the game. Not just any version, but a RUSSIAN COPY. I unknowingly grew up with Cluedo! So I had every reason to believe it was Reverend Green and be confused when I heard otherwise.

Tl;dr, minor version difference between Russian and American copies of a board game gave me a hyperfixation and a blorbo.

Nachtraven:

SO! The Nachtraven is the titular character of a Dutch children’s gameshow.

They’re a cyberpunk-synthwave-medieval fantasy knight (which is honestly an awesome aesthetic) who breaks into children’s bedrooms at night, lures from their sleepovers and makes them compete against each other in challenges… and the winners get to have a lovely sleepover at whatever place they were lured to.

Seriously, they’re so ominous, so sinister, so villain-coded, but all they want to do is to make children’s sleepovers even better. They’re just a nice guy/entity.

They don’t speak, and instead communicate using electronic beeps, gestures, tape recordings of a woman’s voice and the visor of their knight’s helmet as an LED display they put words on.

Seriously, if this was an American show, all the cryptidcore kids would be citing them as one of their biggest childhood influences. I hope that one day they will be recognised as the true cryptid they are.

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

Excuse me... Republican Party... The Onion would like their news articles back.

This isn't even the weirdest news I've heard today.

Minnesota is trying to pass a bill that'll relax child labor laws

VW demanded a family pay $150 and refused to locate a car that had an abducted child in it because the GPS payments had expired

Ford patented a car that autos repossess itself and drive away if payments are missed.

The governor of Tennessee that banned drag shows, pictures of him wearing drag was recently leaked

Google layed off 100 robot workers

Where's that meme where Eleanor from "The Good Place" is like "Wait a minute. This is the bad place!"

Nvm. I found it.

I feel like the devs are playing a game of "How weird can shit get before people start to realize they're in a simulation" as some type of Turing Test or some shit.

-fae

[themonotonysyndrome]

"Hey guys, it's 8r19h7 eYE2 here. Welcome to my first boss battle - a woman."

If you ask Bright Eyes - which no one is doing nowadays. Or talk to. So rude. - their ultimate weakness has always been hot women. Now you might be asking "Oh, does that mean you're Bi?" or "What's your body count?" or even "Holy fuck, Bright Eyes! When did you get in the shower with me!?" but that's not important. What you should be asking is what type of women Bright's heart explodes for like a car crash.

The answer? Preferably boss-ass bitches that can crush them with a pair of fuck-me-heels with daddy issues of the Frank Ocean level. Google it.

Oh and look! There's one here in Wonderworld! Shoes? Check. A scowl that can only mean the barista got her Starbucks order wrong again? Check. And when she steps away from the shadows, we hit the bonus round.

She's tall and her crown is pure platinum blonde. But like every white woman, she's hard to read but fortunately, Bright Eyes can so they check their text on Whatsapp (boomer apps gave them the hives) for any goddesses that are supposed to be on shift tonight.

Actually, let's go back a bit. Back to this morning when Sam accomplished the impossible and made Bright Eyes go 🕶️outside🌳.

"You know, I was counting down the days when you would finally kill me. I bet sometime this year. Vincent now owes me one of his Lambos. You think he'll be mad if I put some Barbie-friendly decals on it?"

"Bright, I don't mean now. I meant tonight at Wonderworld. Vamps in the Solaire Clan take turns patrolling the area."

Frederick pops into their head like an adorably fat mole. The Bright Eyes in their mind palace (it's actually more of a crack den but whatever) whack it with away because they know the unspoken reason why Sam approached them instead of his Progeny. And why he did so when Frederick was asleep.

But anyway, back to the present!

No hot white women were written in the text. Just a bunch of Vampires who form an anti-Bright Eyes committee™ as soon as they arrive. They ignore Bright for the most part which eventually leads the not-so-Newborn-anymore to the farthest end of Wonderworld where a babe is just chilling beside the vegetation-conquered carousel. Score one for the plants.

And the first thing that escapes from Bright's mouth is, "Good evening. May I inquire if you're a quirked up white woman that can bust it down sexual style so that I can get lost in the sauce?"

The scowl vanishes instantly. Like a father who went out to buy milk.

"Excuse me?"

Giddiness blooms like a weed (you know which ones) in Bright Eyes. She even has a Karen-patent tone! Could this night get any better -

Nevermind. Please wait for Bright's brain to reboot as an impressive set of badonkas-donkas is thrust in their face.

"Are you one of Sam's Progeny?" She didn't ask so much as demands. Like Bright and the world owes her something, everything. They wondered if they started panting because that's seriously hawt.

"I'm what you call a bastard of the magical kind meets with death via Vampiric jumpscare. And that's not a sentence I thought was possible."

Bright has to give blondie some credit; she takes their nonsensical answer in stride and with an eyebrow raised.

"I'll take that as a yes. You fit the rumours at least."

"You heard of me but I don't know who you are. You're hot but... sus. Do I need to eject you?"

"No surprise there. I bet Sammy did everything he could to hide you from me. He thinks he's protecting you, but all he did was made me curious."

"Aww shit, did the clapping of my ass cheeks give me away?"

"...Are you fucking high?"

"Probably. I had a shot of vodka with my honey milk boba tea with extra pudding and 100% sugar before I left. Fuck coffee when you can just meet god, amirite?"

The woman closes her pretty gold-ruby eyes. She exhaled and Bright could literally hear her mentally counting down.

"You're unlike any creature that I ever have the misfortune to come across."

"Uh, correction: you found me. And I still don't know if you're a quirked up white woman that can - "

"Enough. I get it. Are you usually like this when it comes to women?"

"Hey, I thought I would be holding in my rizz 'till the heat death of the universe! So who are you o' beautiful sour cream?"

"Careful, I can't tell whether that's an insult or a compliment."

"Sounds like a you problem, chief."

Apparently, magic does exist because despite the non-stop verbal trainwreck that's coming out of Bright's mouth, the woman's lips nearly twitch a smile.

"You're ballsy and stupid. I like that. The name's Alexis. A pleasure for you to meet."

Yes! Bright made it to Phase 2, bitch!

"They call me Bright Eyes, my IQ is the highest among the Redditors on the 'Am I The Asshole' subpage - "

"That isn't saying much."

" - And welcome to the ruins of Vincent's hopes and dreams."

Now that made Alexis burst out a gut. Seriously, she's clutching her stomach with tears in her eyes. It boosts Bright's confidence as a future stand-up comedian. Their 'flirting?' went well but Bright didn't sense the spark of interest within the older Vampire. Boo.

"Right. I've decided to kidnap you now. How accurately can you predict your... Grandmaker's reaction?"

"As accurate as my opinion on the Internet."

"Wonderful. I hope you like shopping and breaking the fabric of time and space on the highway."

And that, readers, is how Bright Eyes won against Alexis Getty-Solaire without getting Miyazaki'd.

[roosterbox]

October Almost-Drabbles 10/7: Apple

Pairing: Cherik

Word Count: 535

Additional tags: “modern” setting, otherwise unspecified AU, no powers, canon disabled character, author is not Jewish but an attempt at keeping kosher was still made, tooth-rotting fluff (as per usual)

Side note: any info about kosher meats was obtained via Google. If it’s not right (or if the mentioned preparations aren’t okay), I apologize. Like I said before, I’m trying not to put TOO MUCH planning or forethought into these drabbles, lol. They were almost going to talk about eating squid and octopus before I thought to check.

Also I know the whole giving teachers apples thing hasn’t been in style in a very long time. I don’t even remember people doing it when I was a kid. It’s an alternate universe, man - just go with it!

Random fun fact: Honeycrisp apples were patented in 1988!

———

The first day of the school year, Charles’ desk was practically covered in apples. Some red, others green, some marbled with yellow. All were perfectly ripe, without bruise or blemish, and filled his classroom with a delicious, fruity aroma. Even the other teachers, who received a few apples of their own, were mildly jealous of the affection Charles’ students had for him.

A bit too much affection, in some cases. More than once he had to gently tell a student that, while he appreciated their regard, there were several reasons why their relationship had to remain purely professional. Such as their age, and the general inappropriateness of such a thing. And there was also his husband, who found the sheer amount of apples Charles brought home every year an endless source of amusement. Plenty for cider, for pies, for baking, or any other different permutations the two of them could conjure.

“Next year you should ask for some Honeycrisps,” Erik said that night as he stored the bags - and bags and bags - of produce.

“Got a few recipes in mind, have you?” Charles teased. With relative ease, he moved himself and his chair around their table, setting out plates and silverware.

His husband shrugged. “Not really. I just rather enjoy them. And there are so few chances these days to indulge.”

“Who would have thought you’d have the sweeter tooth between us?” There was a wine bottle on the counter. Charles took it down and brought it to the table. Excellent vintage, he thought. All that remained was the meal itself. With that in mind, he maneuvered himself out of the wheelchair and into one of the dining seats. Just in time for Erik, finally sans apples, to set the steaming dish right down in the center of the table. Charles thought it smelled absolutely divine, and said as much.

Erik blushed, though he would have denied doing so if asked. “Just an old family recipe tonight, Charles. Nothing special.”

“Anything you make for us is special, my love.”

Before going to his own seat, Erik leaned down to kiss Charles, his own way of silencing the compliments. Though he took pride in his work, Erik still couldn’t help how giddy he got from his husband’s praise.

Charles smiled as they parted. “Except,” he looked thoughtful, “for that albacore tartare from a few months ago.” His stomach growled angrily at the reminder. Sometimes, Erik’s culinary experiments were a bit too ambitious for his digestive system.

Erik grimaced. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Not any time soon.”

They both laughed at that. At the very least, the memory was a pleasant one, even if neither had been very happy at the time.

Sometime later, after their bellies were full of roasted meat, veggies, and wine, and they were curled up together on the sofa, Erik squeezed Charles closer, dropping a kiss to the hair of the lightly dozing man.

“I love you,” he said. Charles mumbled out a reply that might have been a returned sentiment. Might also have been gibberish. Either way, Erik was satisfied.

Almost.

“Charles,” he murmured, somewhat deep in thought, “how do you feel about… baked haddock?”

[all-that-tmnt-jazz]

hey howdy hey, guess who it is (hey now, back again!) i know i keep coming back again and again, please don't get sick of me/lh!

ok ok so uh,,, how would the turtles react to having an s/o who is VERY into the decora kei subgenre (i.e, bright colors, puffy underskirts/clothing, a thousand different hair clips, sanrio themed purses/accesories, etc.)... but they're in trouble- they overhear (like the s/o scream or something), come to help, and like,,, the s/o has everything under control. the patent leather pumps they always wear are now stepping down HARD on the assailant, that little cute My Melody purse now has the straps wrapped around their neck in a chokehold, etc.

tbh, I have never heard of that style before now, but with the contrast between the initial description (plus a Google search) and the end of your prompt, I'm all for it.

And hey y'all, I am back from the dead. If I'm honest, I likely won't post as much but I'm here now. Lets a go.

Leo

He would try to understand the subgenre/subculture so he can keep an eye out for things you would like

He often has April do shopping runs when he finds out a specific store has something you would like

(She always tells him, "You owe me one," but doesn't really mean it. She does love the things he picks out for you.)

He would most definitely panic if you texted him you were in trouble

You guys have your locations shared with each other, which helped him find you quite easily

But when he got there, he actually panicked even more

He was also kind of scared (But he'll never admit that)

There were a total of four assailants

You had the chain of your purse choking one of them

Another was already unconscious

A third was halfway conscious, and Leo was sure he had at least three broken bones in his legs.

The fourth you had pinned under your foot- the heel of your shoe was one millimeter away from breaking the skin of his neck.

You look at him and smile for a second

"Wanna help?"

"Oh shit, yeah."

He takes care of the one who had your purse chain around his neck

You end up kicking the one under your foot, which ends up knocking him unconscious

"What happened?"

"I panicked. I was just trying to get some snacks."

You pulled out a small pack of macarons from a nearby bakery

He just awkwardly laughed at the fact you went from knocking out four grown men to your usual self

You notice but don't say anything

Raph

He handles everything a bit differently.

He finds Decora Kei a bit weird at first

He doesn't get the appeal

But then you guys actually meet in person, and he gets it

Compared to the bland colors of the city, he loves the colors of the style

He doesn't go as far as Leo does with getting you gifts, but he does knit some things for you once in a while

Bright pink fingerless gloves, a bright yellow scrunchie, thick multicolored socks for when the colder months come, and other stuff like that

When you received the first gift, you were confused

You loved it but were confused

But then you saw pieces of yarn stuck to his clothes occasionally, and you put the pieces together.

He would leave them on your back patio and stuff for you to find.

Anyways

He would get freaked out if you said you were in trouble

He was able to find you, and when he did, he was afraid

Very afraid

There were three unconscious men at your feet, and you were currently beating the ever-loving shit out of a fourth

It took you a minute to notice him

But when you did, the guy you were beating was unconscious

"Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"If you keep knitting me things, you'll be good."

You laughed when he got flustered.

Donnie

He knew of Decora Kei before you guys met.

When he found out you were into it, too, he was so excited

He is able to 3-D Print some personalized hair clips, bracelets, earrings, etc.

If there was anything you wanted, he would make it for you.

He had always wanted to make stuff like that before but never knew what to do with it after- he knew his brothers would judge him for it.

But now that he's with you, he has a reason to make everything and has someone to share that general interest with.

When you called him to say something was wrong, he was out on patrol and absolutely panicked.

He felt that you were stronger than you let on but had no way to prove it, so he had offensive weapons ready- just in case.

But when he got there, he was immediately proven right

You had only one shoe on- the other was heel-deep in the throat of one of your attackers.

You had knocked the second attacker unconscious with your bag

You also had the third attacker at knifepoint with his own knife to his throat.

"Hi, Don."

"Hi? That's what you have to say?"

"What else is there to say?"

"Fair enough."

He tied up the one you had at knifepoint as you tied up the one you had knocked unconscious.

Neither of you worried about the one with a shoe sticking out of his throat.

Neither of you talk about this in the presence of his brothers, either.

Mikey

He immediately loves all of the colors.

He begs you for some of your spare hair clips even though you don't know why

Then, after a while, see the clips on the strings of his bandana and his necklaces.

He loved watching you get ready.

Seeing you go from your boring work uniform to your usual style fascinated him.

He valued every part of your passion for Decora Kei, which you're not quite used to yet.

Having someone who appreciates your style "just because" is a foreign concept.

He's also your biggest fan, especially when you're trying new makeup.

Anyways

When he gets your text saying you're in trouble, he almost brushes it off

Many of your older skirts had been ripping lately, so he thought another had torn.

But then you called, and he heard other people in the background that didn't sound all too friendly.

When he found you, to say he was surprised was an understatement

"When did you get a bedazzled pocket knife?"

"Last week- I had it personalized."

He piled the three attackers in the back of the alley, left a quick note for Vincent apologizing, and then took you home.

He would not stop admiring your pocket knife.

[theonlinebrat]

W-A-S-D

Dear reader,

It's been a while since I last posted anything, hasn't it? My bad.

I have been juggling between Don't Starve Together (now that we have the Scrappy Scavengers expansion), Stardew Valley (now that the 1.6 update is finally out) and Game Dev Tycoon, - all financed by my boyfriend.

I'm starting to understand why my mom doesn't want my baby brother to play video games at a young age considering my… uh, outstanding dedication to them.

Like I said before in my now 404-ed Blogger page, this isn't even close to being my first time gaming around, so I’m well acquainted with the myths that can surround this infamous hobby.

I'm no Sam Brenner (Adam Sandler’s character in the 2015 movie Pixels), but according to a few online dictionaries I found, I am a gamer, a.k.a. a person who enjoys video games. As a hobby, not as a profession.

If you never cared to Google it like me, you might ask yourself, what’s a video game? Where do they even come from?

Did aliens bring them to Earth, maybe?

Well, not quite.

I hope not to disappoint the world's most beloved gamer, Henry Cavill, with my poor research skills...

But yeah, taking Wikipedia as my source, video games can be defined as a form of entertainment that involves interacting with an input device, such as your keyboard if you're a PC gamer, to generate visual feedback on a display device, e.g. a monitor. It's similar to how Newton's Third Law of Motion states that for every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction.

During their earlier history, video games were mostly related to research projects at universities and large corporations as academic and promotional devices, rather than to the general public's entertainment.

One of the first examples of a modern video game that we know of was patented in January 1947 by Thomas T. Goldsmith Jr. and Estle Ray Mann, and it's a thing called a "cathode-ray tube amusement device”.

It basically consisted of an analog device that lets you move a dot on the screen to simulate a missile being parabolically fired at paper drawings fixed to the screen, inspired by radar display technology. And, yes, the first video game ever was essentially an Angry Birds prototype.

Over the following years, other game patents were created with different means of display and whatever, but none of them were able to achieve the commercial success of Atari's inaugural arcade game, Pong, in 1972.

The release of this timeless ping-pong video game played a pivotal role in establishing the industry as we know it today, not to mention that one of the first consoles ever was also released a couple months before in that same year; I'm talking about Magnavox' Odyssey home console.

Speaking of the Xbox’s great great great grandmother, it's well-known that video games tend to be classified by platform because of the differences there can be when comparing one piece of hardware to the other, so we have:

Arcade games

You can play these in the coin-operated machines of the same name, like in the beginning of the Pixels movie. The classic single-game cabinet only allows you to play the one game it was designed for, and it was really popular in the US since the 1970s, until it began dying down by the late 1990s when people started to bring the arcade experience home with consoles’ growing popularity and ever-developing technology.

Console games

These can be enjoyed in specialized electronic devices that consist of a main unit - the “console” - that has the hardware that you're supposed to connect with your display device of choice and a game controller like this one: 🎮.

Let's take a moment to reminisce here because, back in my days, you needed to buy a game's cartridge to be able to play it, which meant offline and immediate access at the cost of lower storage capacity and physical bulkiness. But, even before the world wide web, Control Video Corporation (CVC) was an early pioneer in downloadable games and cloud saving for consoles... before it went bankrupt during the 1983 video game crash and was merged with AOL.

CVC introduced the GameLine, a dial-up game distribution system designed for the Atari 2600 console and introduced in 1986. Despite its innovative concept, it was ahead of its time, lacked licensing from most video game companies, and ultimately failed in the quest to fix the physical bulkiness issue.

Had they waited for the modern Internet and the Cloud to be created, they could have seen the same success as Xbox Live and PlayStation Network years later!

Due to coding and/or hardware incompatibilities, you can only play games in a console if they are designed for it, meaning you can't directly transfer a PlayStation 2 game into a PlayStation 4 despite them being brand models developed by the same company. Sony not sorry.

PC games

You can always download them to your desktop computer or laptop from their official website, if there's any, or from a trusty storefront like Steam… as long as the software requirements match. Since computers are not gaming-exclusive devices, there may and most likely will be differences when running the same game on another computer!

Mobile games

You can download these from a trustworthy website as an APK file to be installed on your smartphone or tablet, or just go ahead and use a digital distribution service like Google's Play Store or Apple's App Store, like the smartphone's system might recommend. Though, much like PC games, these tend to have specifications that your phone must meet for them to run properly.

Smartphones and tablets are probably the only case of being both the input and the display device simultaneously without having traditional buttons as an input option, unlike the Nintendo Switch or the PlayStation Vita, and that must be exactly why so many people dislike mobile gaming.

Admittedly, some games can become more challenging with the whole “inaccurate touchscreen controls” part, notably in PUBG Mobile and Don't Starve Pocket Edition. Except the latter has even shittier controls, per its Google Play reviews.

I haven’t played arcade games in a LONG time because my favorite arcade got super expensive in its last few years before closing down, leaving me with nothing but fond long-term memories of digital eggs falling into my basket, Coldplay's Yellow in a plastic guitar, and table-hockey-ing.

However, I have been consistently trying out PC and mobile games across my lifespan. Especially the free-to-play ones, since my family didn't allow me to spend a single penny on video games when I was younger.

And, oh boy, isn't the list of games I've tried criminally long! But blaming my unending passion for video games on my predisposition is only fair.

I mean, I remember my mom was able to defeat Mario Bros.’ Bowser in a single day when I was a child, and hearing similar stories about her older sister's gaming prowess.

Come to think of it, we must've had a NES console back when all that happened, considering my faint memories of being thrilled to play Duck Hunt. That couldn't have happened irl otherwise.

Also, my cousins had a living room computer BRIMMING with, uh, ✨ free copies ✨ of various popular games that we often played together when we were in elementary school.

I did have a couple of consoles of my own, including some sort of green, translucent knock-off GameBoy I was gifted at a school event and what I think was a PlayStation, but quickly lost both.

My cousins were gifted a PlayStation 2 of their own later on, when it was a thing, until it got damaged because they were using pirate cartridges. Or so we were told back in the day; it could’ve been a dirty reading laser in reality, but, you know, my cousins lived in a very small town, so it was a rarity that they had that console in the first place.

I didn't get to bond with console games much because I found the controllers too difficult to use with my poor hand coordination, and couldn't practice for free either way, so I was stuck with mobile Tetris and Bounce Tales, both of which I found in my grandpa's phones.

It wasn't until some time after my middle cousin passed me down her old Facebook account that I found what would be my main source of entertainment for the next year or so: social network games.

They were THE SHIT when I was middle school aged and Facebook was on the rise across all corners of Spanish-speaking countries.

Ever heard of FarmVille or Dragon City? These ancient Facebook games, and other titles, are a type of online game that is played through social media. They tend to have multiplayer gameplay mechanics and use real-time analytics to sort of motivate you to spend real money on in-game resources and/or consistently log in for rewards.

As mobile gaming took off, many of the games you could find on Facebook desktop were re-released for mobile as well!

But Facebook is not the only company who ventured into browser games. This category includes anything you can play using a web browser, like good ol' Ecosia. They're mostly free-to-play and can be single-player or multiplayer, and are also grouped by their software platform, for example, Flash games.

A few famous examples of browser games include Club Penguin and the McDonald's Video Game, but personally I was more into Moshi Monsters and whatever “girly” games you could find on the in-browser hubs JuegosJuegos.com, friv.com and DressUpGames.com, in particular.

Even TV channels like Disney and Discovery Kids had TONS of themed Flash games available on their official websites back then, and it was a wonderful time to be an Internet kid.

Then, tragedy struck: Adobe Flash stopped being supported between December 2020 and January 2021, mainly due to security concerns, dealing a debilitating blow to browser gaming.

Many underrated games that weren't coded into another multimedia display software got lost in memory lane and Facebook's neverending evolution, which sort of forced me to dive a lot more into what the Google Play Store and Steam had to offer.

Still, I would learn coding just to bring Facebook's City Girl Life and Suburbia back.

While I’m pretty flexible in terms of the platforms I’ve tried, I remain selective when it comes to the genres. Although, that doesn't exactly mean I dislike any, just that I may prefer to watch old gameplay videos on YouTube most of the time.

For instance, I'm a big fan of the first 5 Five Nights at Freddy's (survival horror) installments and everything that came out after Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas (action-adventure), yet I have no intent of playing any of them myself. I'll stick with simulation and strategy games, which I excel at and relax with.

About video game genres, they're not really related to the setting or story of the game as literary genres are, but to the way the player interacts with the game.

I’m not diving into specifics here because games often incorporate key features from all genres all the time or blend them into hybrids, making it useless to try to differentiate them. Plus, there are countless sub-genres to consider. Even the Dark Souls saga is considered to have its own sub-genre!

To top it all off, it's no secret that females and minority groups tend to get harassed in shooter and MOBA (multiplayer online battle arena) games communities, so that can obviously make me, a minority female, feel hesitant about joining those spaces as myself.

Highly competitive environments tend to amplify the toxicity of the yappiest players, especially in multiplayer games, and that can lead to this possible misconception that, for instance, all League of Legends (a MOBA) players are disgusting, when in reality it might only be a small percentage of ill-mannered people that are deterring potential new players.

Then again, it is League of Legends that we're talking about…

Going back to the so-called obscure spirits, much like what SORRYLAG narrates in this video about Dark Souls being so difficult to beat that it's often considered THE game that makes you a gamer in other gamers' opinion, I'd add that there's this weird pressure in the video game world about who can beat the games with the most challenging gameplays with no health penalties (such as Dark Souls), or who can speedrun the fastest, or who discovers the most convoluted easter egg.

The one thing stopping me from chasing after any of the three is my day job and my lack of talent in ✨ strategizing ✨ outside of my day job.

It's hypocritical to bash or segregate people for enjoying something just because they have less practice or different preferences.

I would refuse to think I'm less of a gamer just because I like mobile gaming, don't want to beat Sekiro, and won't even pick up Duty's Call, thus I'm not bothered by other people with similar casual gaming tendencies.

So, setting aside the standard fandom issues around them, I wouldn't say video games are a problem on their own. It's not Donkey Kong's fault that we've created so many stereotypes around a lifeless entertainment format.

Do they cause violence? No. Some of them can definitely contribute, but not cause it, nor have long-term consequences on their own. It has a lot more to do with our modern overstimulating environments plus the way our brains are wired for anger to obtain food equaling disaster, according to a few studies.

Are they addictive? Look, those sneaky strategies to make us play more frequently like real-time statistics don't help and I'm borderline addicted myself, but the truth is anything that makes you produce dopamine and other happy hormones will become addictive if you struggle with discipline and self-control in general. Even food. We're just too scared of taking accountability as humans.

Do they cause loneliness or social isolation? It can be the case for some, but that doesn't mean all gamers are lonely. I mean, my boyfriend and I found each other, didn't we? Not to mention you'll fail at most multiplayer games with no teamwork or proper communication, and there are tons of online communities out there that welcome anonymous users, so how do you even get lonely if it's not by perspective?

Are they made for kids, teens, or men only? We're in 2024, come on. There are plenty of options for everybody.

Such a shame that a few people will never get to experience the joys of playing video games because they're too stubborn to believe anything other than what one news article of dubious origin said.

We can't really force a person who dislikes video games for any reason to love them, of course, but it's always nice to see them understand that respecting others' likes and choices will not cause the end of the world, isn't it?

Personally, I tend to choose to play whatever video game I'm trying to (slowly) complete at the moment over asking people to hang out whenever I'm free because going out is more expensive anyway.

This isn't affecting my quality of life any more than pollution does because I still do my chores and work despite the suffocating heat of a tropical summer, so there's that.

In conclusion, as long as video games don't get in the way of your self-care, daily habits, finances, and overall health, you should feel free to play them as much as you can, and want.

Unlike the mistaken belief that video games will ruin your brain or contribute to obesity per se, you can get benefits from most of them, actually.

As of today, we have the VR goggles + omnidirectional treadmill + exploring Skyrim by foot combo for fitness purposes; puzzle games for cognitive skills development; strategy games for planning and problem-solving; action games for reaction time improvement; and so on.

But, once again, gaming shouldn't negatively impact your life. I couldn't believe my eyes when I read about that one Yu-Gi-Oh! tournament where a female participant had to step out due to the odor. Even sports athletes shower before competing, so my hobby is not their excuse for being dirty!

What do you think about video games, though? Yay, or nay?

Until next time!

- N

[restlesshush]

Tell us about your very important Narnia feelings. Also, thoughts on Susan Pevensie?

Hiii Pallas this is sooo sweet <3

Okay so given I was talking about the horse and his boy – I couldn’t remember her name (have since googled – it’s Aravis) but I remember thinking the girl in that was really cool. The main thing I remember about that book is the boy learning to ride his talking horse holding on only with his knees in order to avoid using reins or the horse’s mane, which really stuck with me. And yeah the book got written before the silver chair but published after because the silver chair references it as an old story from the world that Jill and Eustace are hearing. I can’t decide if I think that publishing order is a good call or not – whether it’s kind of gimmicky.

Also not to bring up hp because, well, but there is a post I’ve seen go round that assigned each pevensie child a house and gave Lucy hufflepuff and Peter gryffindor. This is patently incorrect – clearly eight year old Lucy the Valiant is a gryffindor. I feel like she’s only being assigned hufflepuff due to sexism / lack of knowledge of the source material.

And yeah I do think it’s pretty horrifying that the story ends with Susan having her entirely family (including parents iirc?) die in a train crash while she is left alone as narrative punishment for caring about boys and party invitations now. Also I watched the film a lot as a child and I now have “I mean logically it’s impossible” as Susan’s response to the professor re Lucy saying she’d found a world in the wardrobe going around in my head, and I think that was an iconic thing for a 12 year old to say. I think it’s a bit of a shame she got shafted with being “Queen Susan the gentle” – being a rigorous thinker is a pretty important quality in a ruler!!