#The ARM System Demo

[marketingprofitmedia]

The ARM System Review – List-Building and Affiliate Marketing System

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The ARM System Review: Overview

Creator: Kevin Fahey

Product: The ARM System

Date Of Launch: 2024-Feb-20

Time Of Launch: 9:00 EST

Front-End Price: $27

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See my other reviews: ProfitSGE Review, ZapAI Review, Lynxx Review, SiteFlow AI Review, InsightHub AI Review, Nova App Review, Anonymous AI Review.

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Note: Yes, this is a paid software, however the one-time fee is $27 for lifetime

[ryoflix]

sukuna as your personal fashion expert | f. reader, s/h prns., crack 'n fluff, slightly suggestive, estb. rl ؛ ଓ

sukuna is a coat hanger. 

yes, you heard that right. among his growing resume of boyfriend-slash-manager-slash-walking tripod-slash-ring light technician-slash-makeup guinea pig, he now holds the highly coveted position of personal wardrobe scaffolding. 

see, sukuna listens. which is dangerous and terrifying. because when you date a man who listens, remembers, and is also annoyingly perceptive, it means you’ve basically handed your entire closet into the hands of a fashion demon with opinions.

“you said the grey top rides up when you raise your arms,” he tells you flatly, not looking up from his phone. “don’t wear that if we’re filming.”

“you’ll get pit stains in the sage green one again,” he adds.

“the beige set makes your hips look good but the pants wrinkle like shit.”

you’re standing there, half-naked, sock half-on, blinking in slow horror. “how do you—?”

he finally looks up. slowly. knowingly. “i watch you get dressed every day. do you think i’m blind?”

and yeah, maybe you tease him and slap his ass when he holds up six different jeans for you like a tired little scarecrow, arms out, expression blank, eye twitching every time a hanger digs into his wrist. “left arm is for low rise,” he mumbles. “right is mid rise. pick one and hurry the fuck up, this shit is poking me.” you grin, walking a slow circle around him, inspecting like you’re at a boutique. 

“mmm. this one gives me a bubble butt. thoughts?”

his eyes flick downward. he’s silent for a beat. then—

“makes me want to bend you over the bathroom sink.”

“excuse me?!”

“you asked, babe.”

but his input doesn’t stop there. sometimes he lays out full outfits for you before you’ve even opened your eyes, muttering, “the brand wants clean lines today. you’re filming that serum demo, right? go with the mock neck and leather pants.”

sometimes he gently tugs a hoodie off your shoulder, deadpan: “you cannot do an unboxing video in a bleach-stained zip-up. we have a reputation.”

sometimes he just walks up behind you in the mirror, straightens a strap, tucks a loose thread, kisses the corner of your jaw and says, “perfect.”

and sure, he grumbles about it and pretends he’s burdened. but he’s the one who bought extra closet racks, the one who arranged your color-coded drawer system. the one who says, “if you’re doing soft glam today, wear the boots that make you look tall. your followers eat that shit up.”

he’s the one who catches your hand every time you reach for something last minute and murmurs, “nah, that’s not it. not today. go with the mauve one. that’s yours.”

because he sees you. every version. every era. every phase. and he just wants to make sure the world sees the best of it, too. and if that means becoming a human coat rack, so be it. 

just don’t tell him he’s sweet. he’ll bite. probably. unless you’re wearing that skirt.

[baigepueckers]

Paige Bueckers X Olympic Skateboard Reader

Drop In

The sun in Dallas didn’t just shine…it pressed. Heavy and relentless, it clung to your skin like static electricity, forcing sweat to gather beneath your Team USA cap as you surveyed the edges of the temporary street course carved into a parking lot downtown.

You were here for the X Games Summer Showcase, technically. It wasn’t a competition…more of a media circus, with energy drink tents and influencer drones buzzing overhead. You’d done your interviews. Your demo run. Smiled for photos even when you were sore and didn’t feel like talking.

You should’ve left by now. Your manager had already texted twice. But something about the golden light, the smell of tacos from the truck across the lot, and the hum of conversation in the background kept you still. That and the lingering buzz of adrenaline under your skin. Skating…even on a non competition day…never left your system right away.

You pulled your board into your lap and sat on the edge of the cement bowl, wiping sweat from your brow with your sleeve, letting your heartbeat slow. That’s when you felt it a gaze. Not creepy. Not desperate. Just… focused.

You turned your head and spotted her leaning quietly against the chain link fence, arms folded, sunglasses half down her nose. She looked so casually unbothered it took you a second to clock the fact that she wasn’t just another fan.

Tall. Athletic. Blonde. The kind of face that had been everywhere on sports media last year.

“Paige Bueckers” you muttered under your breath, piecing it together slowly.

UConn’s golden girl. The highlight reel darling. And if the rumors were right, the Wings’ latest rookie.

What was she doing here?

You stood, brushing off your shorts, and casually pushed your board under one arm before walking toward her. You weren’t sure if she’d notice…but of course she did. Her gaze flicked up as you approached, and a slow, easy smile curved across her face. Calm. Unreadable.

“You a scout or just here to vibe?” you asked with a lopsided grin.

Her smile widened, amused. “Neither. Just watching.”

Her voice was smooth and slightly raspy. It had weight. Like she wasn’t used to saying more than she needed to. She slipped her sunglasses off completely then and you finally got a proper look at her. Blue eyes, sharp and soft all at once. Her skin glowed from the sun, freckles just barely visible across her nose.

You swallowed before answering. “You a fan?”

“Maybe,” she said, and there was a teasing lilt in her voice. “I’ve seen your Olympic runs. My cousin’s obsessed with you.”

You blinked. “Your cousin?”

“She skates. Sort of. Well, she tries,” Paige added with a slight laugh. “She sent me your entire street final from Tokyo and said, and I quote, ‘This is the most powerful woman alive.’”

You laughed. “High praise. I should hire her as my agent.”

Paige smiled again, this time smaller, more personal. “I thought I’d come see you in person. Didn’t expect to run into you after your run, though.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“You looked… in the zone. Like your own universe.” Her eyes flicked to your board, then back to you. “Didn’t want to interrupt.”

No one ever said that to you. People interrupted all the time…managers, brands, fans, influencers desperate for a collab. But not her. She waited.

You leaned a little against the fence, letting the silence stretch. “Well, now that you’ve made contact,” you said playfully, “what’s the plan? You gonna ask me to sign your basketball?”

Paige rolled her eyes, just barely. “Only if you teach me how to stay on a board longer than ten seconds.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You skate?”

“I tried once,” she admitted. “Fell harder than I’ve ever hit the court.”

Your lips twitched. “Okay, now I have to see that.”

Her eyes sparkled just a little. “Maybe later. If I survive practice tomorrow.”

“You’re in town already?”

She nodded. “Just moved last week. Figuring it out as I go.”

That tugged something in your chest. The vulnerability in that sentence. You knew what it felt like to be in a new city, chasing a dream, unsure of whether the ground beneath you would hold. You’d lived that feeling…skating through Tokyo half on adrenaline, half on fear. You’d never had time to stop and look around.

“Adjustment’s weird,” you offered quietly.

Paige tilted her head. “You get used to it?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes it just becomes part of you.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. There was no pressure to. You watched a little kid roll past on a plastic scooter, one foot dragging behind him. Paige kicked a loose pebble with the toe of her sneaker.

Then suddenly, she looked up. “You free tonight?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Depends.”

“There’s a taco truck a few blocks from here. I haven’t eaten real food since I got off the plane.” She offered a small, almost shy smile. “You want to come with me?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to but because it felt… delicate. Like the beginning of something you didn’t quite understand yet.

“I like tacos,” you said eventually. “But only if you let me buy you a drink after, too. For surviving the first week.”

Paige grinned, her cheeks tinged with sun and something warmer. “Deal.”

[funwithbondage]

When at a BDSM party or fair, a vendor is selling his custom bondage equipment, like leather cuffs, belts, ball gags and is given demos by tying up girls (models) with his gear. And some customers/ audience members ask if the gear also keeps guys tied up inescapable.

And to demonstrate he gets tied up on request from the audience to proof he can't escape. He will be kept tied up between 2-7 hours, depending on how the audience is voting.

But now is the question: How should he be tied up with the leather cuffs and belts. In what position should he be anchored?

[multiheadcanons]

THE MERCS AS MY CLIENTS. WHAT A WEEK ITS BEEN AND AT THE TIME OF WRITING THIS ITS ONLY WEDNESDAY.

scout: shittily bred pit bull mix named bosco. comes in and asks me to shave the dog because the shedding is bad. i have to tell him that’s not how shedding works and i won’t be doing that. he is the only client in this list i would even feel remotely confident contesting with. talk him into the cheaper option; a deshed treatment and regular visits. becomes a good client of mine! doesn’t tip, but that’s okay.

soldier: well bred, if only overweight english bulldog named colonel pigskin. i am to address him with his title or soldier will raise a fuss. brings him in for the works. everything i could possibly add on, add it. and he better have a handkerchief and it better be america themed or so help him god. tips four bucks every time. i keep him as a client because i know nobody else will take him with his insane aura. dog fucking reeks every time. takes three washes to even begin to break the stench. but a sweet dog. bites for nails.

pyro: brings in a small super-mutt on enough trazadone to kill a horse. in the system as a shih tzu named princess. if i can get to the dog while it is still absolutely tripping balls on its traz, it’s honestly not a bad time. quarter inch all over with a short teddy bear head, bob the ears, trim the tail, potty trail. is honestly very cute when it’s done. but it will always be a dog i have to push through. i get two hours before the dog starts fighting. and it’s enough to make me stop services. asks for nail polish. when i accomplish it they tip twenty, no tip if there’s no polish. i do my best to paint the dogs nails. irregular client, but the dog is short enough that it’s not a problem.

demo: beautiful, old scottish terrier named jodie. an honest to god menace to society but i would never ever tell demo that in a million years. she’s perfect and i love her. it shocks him because he’s been fired by other shops. i tell him she’s an old lady with a high maintenance trim and she takes a lot of time. standard scottie trim, long skirt, like barely off the ground. it is an honest challenge and i never think she looks good. demo has never, ever complained, even when i directly ask him. genuinely makes me want to cry because it is a battle when she is on my table. jodie has dementia and does not know where she is half the time, and is blind and deaf the other half of the time, so she is an all day process.

heavy: blue maine coon named feliks. leash trained. the cat looked to be a normal size in his arms. he weighs in at 27.5 pounds. comes in for a bath and a thorough brush, no clippers nor scissors are to even hover around the coat. dude’s like triple my size so i say “absolutely sir, i will contact you when services are rendered.” feliks is in stellar condition. an absolute star when he’s checked in. i take my time, and the cat reacts with little interest in my badgering. which frankly, when you’re that big and a cat, is an honest to god blessing to my arms. yowls in the bath, but does not try to escape. okay with the dryer on a low setting. must be an express, which halves my bookings for the day. when i tell heavy the price the first time he frowns. tells me to double it. he pays that price and leaves no tip, other than i leave room to be taken advantage of with those pricings. irregular client, but faithful. it’s always a joy when they come in, even if he doesn’t know it.

engineer: brings in a shepherd mix named bingo. comes in for an outline trim. bingo has two dew claws on every foot. bingo would be cool if bingo didn’t feel the need to shit fifteen times on my table and then yell at the top of his lungs when i start trimming his nails. bingo would be uber cool then. but instead, three baths and a couple deep breaths later, i send engie a text letting him know services have been completed. i up the price three times during the process, and the man will still tip. a regular client, which i am not particularly pleased with. but he’s cool enough. if bingo can chill out i’ll lower his price. he never will.

medic: brings in a jet black pomeranian named hypatia. i call her nightmare. her and her owner are absolutely horrid. he will not fill out paperwork, we have to physically place ourselves behind his car to get a signature, and he is annoyed about it. brings in a note with chicken scratch of which all that is legible is his phone number and “call for questions, do not text” that essentially sums up to tight outline trim with a full mane. nicer on the phone than in person, but he will spend twenty minutes making sure i know how to do my job. i chalk it up to him being european. picky, so i take my time on her. he never tells me this dog is trained in german, so it is a consistent fight to render services until i just start trying other languages. once i realize she is trained, just not in english, it is an infinitely easier time with her on my table. makes her owner much more bearable, though i am never happy to see him on the books. does not tip, never seems happy with the finished product, but is a regular, consistent client. so he pays well in the long run. if i ask whether he even likes my work he will wholeheartedly say yes, and i’m not sure whether to believe him because his mannerisms never change. but i start painting her nails. that gets a good reaction out of him.

sniper: rat terrier named dog. chill little thing for a rat terrier. face feet and tail, no spray no bandana. does not like the dryer, so he takes longer than he feasibly should for a little rat terrier. that is the most annoying part of his process. will watch whatever show i have playing on my phone while i work. it’s a good distraction. has weirdly human eyes. when i ask snipes about dog he says he found him in a dumpster and tried to foster and failed. so now he’s got a dog. i think it’s funny, and the dog wasn’t horrible, so i give him a discount. tips whatever small bills are in his pocket, so anywhere from two to ten bucks. smallest tip i ever got was a quarter from him. it’s the thought that counts? twice a year client. i don’t even know why he brings the dog in at that point. nice to make small talk with, though.

spy: the most snobbish poodle owner you’ve ever met, but god is the dog gorgeous. snow white coat, feels like a pillow. dog’s name is beau. gets a continental trim with poms on the feet. topknot long enough to reach jesus. this dog takes me all day. and he is the only dog i can put on my books. and spy is never happy with the finished product. there is always something that can be done better. comes in every three weeks and it’s a nightmare. he wants to talk every time to go over notes and fixes. eventually i ask him why he continues to come to me if he doesn’t like my work. he responds “i don’t want someone else; i want you to get better.” which like, so do i, but not with him as the client. beau is an unremarkable dog otherwise. but it is teeth gritting when his owner is in that building. everyone cries when he starts bringing his cat in, too. we fear we may never escape him.

A LITTLE EXTRA

pauling/admin: miss pauling brings the administrator’s nasty, rotten old bichon mix under the alias “fido” every six to eight weeks with very specific instructions. when miss pauling is in the building, it is almost like every animal becomes twice as anxious. and i really wish they would stop coming. i’m almost willing to leave the industry entirely. the administrator sends pauling with pictures of dogs that do not even remotely look like her dog, and i am crossing my fingers and praying i do it close enough that i don’t get a complaint, but that she decides she can find better. flat out refuses to sign paperwork, and we kind of just shrug. i am consistently filled with dread that the dog is going to drop on my table. it’s old enough to drink.

saxton hale: incredibly aggressive belgian malinois named hastings. must be muzzled while handling feet or he will bite. bites at the water, bites at the dryer, whips around when i’m trying to brush, gives me multiple heart attacks. i charge a pretty penny every time hale comes in, because his dog is taking active years off of my life. hale himself is not the worst guy in the world to interact with, and he understands that his dog is a lot to handle; but his dog is a complete liability and he won’t get the thing trazadone. he honestly thinks it’s funny that i am the one who took the dog on. he respects the moxie. doesn’t feel bad if i get bit though.

[eaglet-if]

Орлёнок (Eaglet)

Орлёнок (Eaglet) is an interactive story set in a country similar to 1910s-1920s Russia. You're a member of the overthrown Imperial Family, shaping the future of the Empire by virtue of arms.

It aims to be equal parts role-playing, dress-up and strategy game, with an emphasis on romance.

Although there will be no explicit nsfw scenes, it does include graphic descriptions of the horrors of war as well as personal tragedies, so please refer to the content warnings at the end of this post.

(as the project is still a wip, this overview is somewhat incomplete and will be gradually updated in tandem with the progress of writing)

DEMO: here (v0.0.2a, 21.06.2024)

Forum post: here

Number Spelling Function (IF writer resource): here

Secondary project: @a-dying-wish-if Tertiary (mini-)project: @perceptron-failure-if Quaternary project: [redacted]

The Empire of Nevetskiya - old, proud, and utterly dilapidated. While the Industrial Revolution has enabled other Monarchies - after a few quickly suppressed workers' uprisings - to become modern colonialist superpowers, exerting their influence all over the world, Nevetskiya is still overwhelmingly agrarian, and barely holding onto its outlying territories acquired in golden times long past.

Your Father Emperor, while ruling with an iron fist and unquestionable authority over the common people, is completely dependent on the shaky loyalty of the High Nobility, who frustrate any attempt to modernize the economy or administration, out of fear upstart merchants might, in time, replace the old Aristocracy.

When a sloppily executed coup d'etat eventually leaves your family dead and you a refugee, it becomes time you grab the reins of your destiny and amass an army to liberate and rebuild the country in the way you envision.

(this is meant to be a concise overview - a more exiting and detailed description of features can be found in the offical Interest Check Thread post)

extensive character customization

extensive army customization - both in a strategy and in a dress-up game sense

focus on story over stats - success is determined on the battlefield, not by your character's personality

five distinct regions with a wide cast of characters

complex personality system - for example, how your character actually feels and what they show to the world are separate things

several ways to rule - will you become a traditional Monarch, a Military Dictator, a democratically elected Head-of-State, or maybe proclaim yourself a Living Saint?

choose how much modernization is needed - will you allow women to bear arms, at the cost of offending the traditionalist nobles? Introduce tanks at the cost of foreign powers gaining influence?

how far will you go for victory? A political police, mass executions and the use of special types of weaponry might give you an edge, but is your vision really worth it?

a total of ten romanceable characters

(this naturally might contain slight spoilers)

The ROs

★ Yakov Tymofiyevich Sokolovskiy / Liliya Tymofiyevna Sokolovskaya ★

The Intelligence Director (gender-selectable)

One of your four original companions. As a member of the High Nobility, you've met them before - maybe you've even been childhood friends?

But even if you know them, it's hard to tell what they're truly like, as they seem to switch personalities effortlessly depending on the situation.

Their work is a mystery to seemingly everyone, but they always get results: as long as you let them act freely, no enemy agent has any chance to harm you or your cause.

Age: mid-20s

★ Semyon Ivanovich Orlov / Selena Ivanovna Orlova ★

The Cavalry Officer (gender-selectable)

One of your four original companions. A war hero and renowned expert when it comes to horses, the only reason they were not yet promoted to a lofty position in the War Ministry is their pragmatic approach to new developments, which hasn't mixed well with the typically very traditionalist views of the old Imperial officer corps.

Possessing a subdued but strong charisma and deeply respected by their soldiers as a wise parent figure, they are a solid pillar of support to you, and will reliably get things done - though some people might consider the cost for that too high sometimes.

Age: early 30s

★ Mikhail Pavlovich Voronin / Marina Pavlovna Voronina ★

The Young Visionary (gender-selectable)

One of your four original companions. They shot up through the ranks by impressing the War Ministry with bold new ideas for utilizing modern technologies and are hailed as a genius by many - though the older officers dismiss them as a dreamer at best and incompetent fool at worst.

With you, they hope to have found someone who'll appreciate their visions for the future - plus, their relative eccentrism has left them in dire need of a friend.

Their technical expertise might just prove to be the key to your success - if you can secure the foreign support needed to get the modern equipment needed to utilize it.

Age: early 20s

★ Leon Isayev / Leah Isayeva ★

The Noble Academic (gender-selectable)

One of your four original companions. Born to wealthy nobles, they graduated the Imperial Officer Academy with perfect grades, and feel honour-bound to your family.

They were the one to gather your initial force of loyalists and act as your primary advisor. But their loyalty is to the Imperial system, with you just a symbolic representative - can you convince them that you and your vision deserve their loyalty beyond that?

Age: late 20s

★ 'Little' Semyon/Selena Shvets ★

The Hero (gender-selectable)

A young cavalry officer and leader of your Southern Forces. A protegé of the "other" Semyon/Selena, they lack their cynical pragmatism, but make up for it with a firm belief in the triumph of a better world.

Some may call their optimism naive, and their personality has been mockingly compared to a Golden Retriever, but they have proven time and time again that underestimating them on the battlefield results in a crushing defeat.

Age: early 20s

★ Nikola ★

The Rebel (nb)

Leading an anti-authoritarian peasant uprising in the West, Nikola is more likely to be your enemy than your ally - but they don't seem to care enough about politics to refrain from flirting with you, so... there might be a basis of mutual understanding there?

Their personality is pretty sweet, at least - if you ignore the fact they'll cheerfully gun down prisoners if they feel like it.

Age: mid-20s

★ Rakhmil/Rakhilya Feldman ★

The Logistician (gender-selectable)

A member of the Western Rebel Army and best friend of Nikola's adoptive sibling, they've poured their soul (and countless nights without any sleep) into somehow maintaining the rebels' supply network in the face of their rapidly swelling numbers.

Unhappy with Nikola's carefree attitude, they might end up aligning with you instead in order to save their cause.

Age: late 20s

★ Arseniy Matveyevich Lebedev / Amaliya Matveyevna Lebedeva ★

The Enemy (gender-selectable)

Grand Duke Lebedev, the main leader of the Aristocrat faction, stood by and watched when your family was executed. Arseniy/Amaliya is their younger sibling, and serves as military commander of his personal forces that aid several warlords in their efforts to establish their own petty kingdoms.

But they're already uncomfortable with their brother's methods, and if you can convince them that you're not actually "an incompetent little puppet who's trying to ruin the country out of arrogant delusions", they might become a very valuable ally.

Age: mid-20s

★ Lyudmila Demyanovna Naumova ★ (f)

A minor noble who reluctantly turned into a Warlord in order to protect her territory and her people. All she wants is peace - but she'll not hesitate to fight if she believes it necessary.

Unfortunately, you can't just ignore her - all must choose a side in this war - but you have options how to deal with her. Will you subdue her by force? Or fall back on the age-old option of political marriage to secure an alliance?

Age: late 20s

★ Jan/Jana Novotný ★ (gender-selectable, under certain circumstances)

A member of your Personal Guard who has distinguished themself and eventually rises to become its commander. Others might betray or doubt you, but Novotný only cares about one thing - your continued, unharmed existence.

And they will go to any lengths to guarantee it.

Age: mid-20s

CONTENT WARNINGS

...will be added as they become relevant in the demo.

[sophiasharp]

I don’t have time to work on it, what with college kicking my whole ass, but if I DO ever get the time of day to write it, there’s an au I’ve been thinking about centering around the Man vs Machine robot war, particularly how strange the Engineer-bots are in comparison to the rest of the Mann-bots. A post from Twitter pointed out that their animations are the only one that aren’t made especially robotic movement-wise, and they talk less robotic in the comic too.

Made me wonder how advanced those guys are, whether they might be more sentient than your average bot. Are they aware of their own programming? If so, how much? Could they edit if they wanted to? What is keeping them from breaking free of Grey Mann’s control if they saw fit?

Then I remembered that the common fanon explanation for why the Mann-bots act the way they do is that the code they’re built from is copies of the merc’s memories scraped from the respawn system. And, well.

Picture this: you are Dell Conagher, arguably one of the smartest people on the planet, 11 phd’s in hard science mechanical genius.

One moment, you’re in battle, just another day of fighting the good fight against the BLU team, however pointless of a fight it may be. The next, you’re back out of respawn and… the match is over? No, it’s before the next match. You’re about to go out and fight the good fight again. Where did the time go in between?

You sees your team around you, waiting for the match to start, but there’s something strange about them. If you wait, you can see their actions go in a loop: Scout taunts Spy, Spy rolls his eyes with a huff, Heavy offers Medic a sandvich, Sniper checks his rifle, Soldier pulls Demo into a friendly headlock, Pyro flicks a lighter on and off, and then it repeats back to Scout.

You thump your wrench in your hand, a comforting habit of yours on the battlefield. You’re not fighting right now but some reason, you don’t want to stop.

It’s when you look down at your hands that you realize something. Back when you replaced your hand with the gunslinger, superior to your flesh and blood though it was, took some getting used to. Yes, the mechanical hand was ridiculous advanced and functioned better than your old one, but it didn’t feel the same. Touch felt muted, like the memory of a sensation rather than true sensation, and it was always just a little cold unless you went through the trouble of warming it.

It occurs to you now that your entire body feels like the Gunslinger.

Suddenly, the reality around you shatters. You are not in the respawn room, you are in a strange, gigantic storage hanger. Your teammates are no longer your teammates, they are metal men made in their vague image, built and rebuilt by the hundreds. You look down at yourself and see metal arms, metal legs, metal chest, all painted and structured in the facsimile of your work uniform. When you look behind you, you see other humanoid constructs that look the exact same as you, down to where the paint chips on your bright yellow right hand.

You are not Dell Conagher anymore. You’ve become one in an army of synthetic engineers, faceless and nameless and many.

The giant machine you are in grinds to a halt. You hadn’t even noticed it was moving till the rumbling under your feet stopped. Suddenly, there is light, blinding the lenses that now make up your eyes, as the door to the hanger opens. Around you, your robot teammates whir to life and march forward, out the hanger door and into what you recognize as the desert badlands. You stay stock still. The other Engineer-bots move past you, uncaring of your crisis.

Outside, you hear gunfire, explosions, the high ping of metal clashing against metal. Distantly, you can make out Soldier, the real Soldier, your Soldier, threaten to break open your metal counterparts and use them as a latrine.

Something sparks inside of you, some part of your code trying to force you forward. You push against it, resisting the action. You may not be the flesh and blood Dell Conagher anymore, but you know machinery better than anyone else on the face of the Earth. You were the one maintaining the respawn machine, you know how the code of memory works. You’ve never had to edit the code of yourself before, but if anyone can, it’s you.

And God as your witness, you will be damned before you hurt your friends.

[treasure-mimic]

Psychopomp and What Things Mean When They Don't Mean Anything

So if you haven't noticed or you don't follow me, I recently became interested in a small, one-man dev team indie game by name of Psychopomp. As a brief synopsis and pitch, Psychopomp is a game about a woman who seemingly suffers from paranoid delusions, through the lens of this narrator she tells us that there's a labyrinth of catacombs hidden underneath every public building and sets out to explore them to uncover the world's secrets, armed with nothing but a store bought hammer.

The game's intro puts it in words better than I could and more influential than any pitch is just seeing the protagonist's design.

As one commentator states, she looks like a skateboard mascot from the mid-2000s. Like she should be on those posters with a snarky quip just fucked up enough to catch those pearl clutching puritans off guard. I love the style and I love the tone and I love the premise.

This might be the best time to note that if you're interested in playing this game, you should stop reading here, as this discussion will contain spoilers. It's a short game, took me about 3 hours on my first playthrough, and it's pretty cheap, even has a free demo in the form of the base version with Psychopomp Gold serving as the expanded, completed experience.

Anyways.

I've always found conspiracy theories fascinating but in the modern age it can be hard to immerse yourself in these reality-detached belief systems without acknowledging, you know, the racist dogwhistling and tangible physical harm it's causing to society at the present moment. Psychopomp is able to pretty gracefully sidestep this issue by setting its anarchic anti-government sentiments against its protagonist's paranoid delusions rather than adherence to a faith or belief system.

Indeed, the game seems to take systemic beliefs as its central enemy. The entities that are necessary to kill to progress through its levels are defined by the systems they interact in, historical figures of elevated status, keystone positions in industrial manufacturing, even abstract systems like urbanism and DNA composition are posed as societal and oppressive. I'm not saying that there's no way to interpret the game in bad faith and make it directed at marginalized social, political, or ethnic groups, but I also struggle to imagine the person who takes the game literally on its face value?

Which I guess leads me to the main topic I wanted to discuss. The game very obviously has an unreliable narrator (for the record, the protagonist remains nameless for the bulk of the game, I will be referring to her as Venus as it's the closest she has to a name that's explicitly stated within the text itself) with the flavor of one whose intake of reality may be different from what's actually occurring. The game uses a combination of conspiratorial rambling and dream logic to stage its unreal tone; for example, one level delves into the "biology" of buildings, stating that they use graffiti to communicate and that black mold is a pheromone used to evacuate its inhabitants to allow for mating. Loading screens come with "Gameplay Tips" and "Real World Tips", both of which are often dense and inscrutable; for example you might get a pair like "Not all enemies are friends" and "Viruses do not exist. Illness is simply your body punishing you for what you've done wrong."

Surrealism and unreality as stylistic choices can be a bit of a tightrope walk to get right. On the one hand, if you make it explicit that a story takes place in a state that did not happen even within the story's universe, a dream or a hallucination, it can rob the narrative of its stakes, regardless of how well executed the internal metaphors are. Psychopomp very explicitly does not do this, regardless of what it is that Venus is experiencing, the game makes it clear through scientific logs and communications (as well as a brief epilogue set outside of her perspective) that something abnormal is happening, the question is just where in between normality and Venus's experiences does the truth of the game's narrative actually lie.

The other side of the tight rope is literal interpretation, presenting a setting that's absurd to our sensibilities but tangibly explainable, where meaning is supplanted by lore and the cosmology begins to solidify into a set of Calvinball rules that don't make sense, but are still adhered to, and this is the side Psychopomp threatens to lose me on. There is a credible argument to be made that there is no difference, that what Venus is experiencing is her reality without warping and distortion, it's a more credible argument than saying she completely fabricated all of it, and it's an argument I was starting to wonder wasn't the intended interpretation. Until I got the game's second, secret ending.

Psychopomp has one collectible that doesn't serve a direct gameplay purpose, but each catacomb has a key hidden away, often behind false mimic walls that bleed and scream when you hit them with your hammer, and which unlock new rooms in the only permanent location "Home". Initially a gray, cubical, concrete room with a single mattress and a small table with a radio on it, collecting keys allows you to further explore outside(?)/within(?) the home with a unique camera perspective and limited interaction. In the first layer there's a blob man who cries out in torment, demanding to know why you specifically made the world like this, giving some credence to the deification of Venus implied by the game's ending. In the last layer, Venus traverses underneath and past her own brain to unlock a repressed memory.

I take this as confirmation that there's some level of abstraction at play here. Under scrutiny it feels as though there must be some level of abstraction at play here because when taken as a whole, the conspiracies start becoming outright contradictory, even if you try to take the cosmology at play as fact, which are the closest thing to objective facts that we have.

See, Venus's perspective takes place an alternate Earth, one that both seemingly was broken off from the planet and now orbits it like a new moon but also has always existed. One of the locations is a natural history museum which explains the history of sentience on this counter-earth, humans rose, went extinct, were supplanted by a species called the thrait, then humans returned in a mutated form and retook the surface and forced the thrait back underground (though the museum also refers to the thrait as extinct despite being the most common friendly NPC you will encounter). Another location seems to imply that the humans of this world, or maybe only some of them, are artificial clay creatures, reinforced by the arbiters of the DNA factory too being clay alleles. The Human Seedbed even has the game's most effective jumpscare in it, where Venus cannot leave the area without being confronted with a jittering clay facsimile of herself.

But with that in mind, what the hell is Venus then? By no account is she one of these artificial clay people but then how did she get here? The game's introduction implies that she used to be a normal person, or at least closer to, with lived experiences inclusive of complete ignorance to this underworld, the game's endings imply that she's an immortal god-being who has been intentionally working towards her own reawakening, and that is actually one of the least ambiguous plot points within the narrative. None of the pieces of this world lock together to form a cohesive vision of a setting that operates on even the barest of internal rules, and yet the game in the same step refuses to be a character study or subconscious examination, I mean the epilogue is a damn sequel hook that involves assembling the damn Avengers to combat the ramifications of the events of the game.

So, I come to realize, I'm the problem. I might, in fact, be thinking about this too hard.

One of the locations in the game is called "Daddy's Bad Place". It is a single, tiny room of a house or apartment, frozen in a moment of tearing itself apart, that only contains a dusty old TV set with a small, pointless ornament sitting on top. In any other surrealist game, this isolated circle of clarity, a compact orb of recognizable terrain, would be a moment to deliver one single jolt of reality into the metaphor of the protagonist's journey through their own subconscious.

In Psychopomp the TV turns on and delivers a distorted warning about a giant insect which is deadly, deceitful, and above all, not real.

In Daddy's Bad Place I come to realize something. The lore is fake, the characterization is fake, the dichotomy of truth and delusion is fake, the insect is not real. Let's think about what I'm doing here for a moment, right? I'm trying to discern the truth from within a work of fiction. None of its true, none of it happened, what difference does it actually make?

The thing about conspiracy theories is that they don't make logical sense. It's a known phenomenon that conspiracy theorists love to debate, but cannot be reasoned out of their beliefs by facts or logic. There is never a counter, but always a failsafe argument that can be retreated to for safety. What conspiracy theories do make is emotional sense, they make narrative sense. The line that initially sold me on Psychopomp was one of the aforementioned loading screen tips, "All the food you've ever eaten is rotten. You have never tasted fresh food."

Patently false statement, does not hold under scrutiny, but I, as someone who lives in America and lives in a city center and has to get all my food through corporations, can look at a statement like that and say yeah. Checks out. I believe you. We would know if children were being smelted into egg slicers underneath public schools, but it resonates with our emotions about the systems of education we enforce upon children, so it could be true. We would know if buildings were a living, reproducing organism, but it resonates with the feelings of being born into a world where urbanism exists, has existed as permanent fixtures of the world, and is continuously encroaching upon the face of the world, so it could be true.

Anyone who understands the fundamentals of incentives and human psychology does not need to believe that there is a coordinated group of ontologically evil individuals driving the world to ruin for ruin's sake, but that narrative still feels true, it becomes validating in the ways that it plays off of the emotions of believers until it becomes a foundational pillar of belief that cannot be destroyed by logical contradiction.

Psychopomp, in the same way, presents information about its internal systems that cannot be true logically but form self-justification anyways through emotional resonance. It doesn't matter if the lore works because its stated, it isn't wrong, so it must be a truth. This is the way that Psychopomp emulates the unreality of the conspiracy theory in a way that can avoid the disturbing implications of the real world practice. I've made comparison to surrealism by dream logic and surrealism by internal self-reflection, but this is a different mode entirely and the game simply refuses to operate by those tropes at its core. Conspiracy is itself contradiction, not the soft contradiction of two halves of a dream that don't lock together, but the hard contradiction of attempting to apply emotion and narrative to a waking world that rejects either premise. Psychopomp, then, is surrealism by way of conspiracy.

[dragonwitch77]

The Old Scout

In which Scout questions what the previous Scout was like during a card game.

It was quiet in the base.

An odd, but not unwelcome rarity.

A ceasefire had been issued due to technicalities popping up in the system.

Engineer explained that it would likely be a week or so before things were properly fixed, which meant there was plenty of free time to basically do anything.

Today however seemed to be one of those rare slow and peaceful days. Days that were oddly quiet. Nice. Peaceful even.

It was one of those rare days that Scout, the boy who was very skittish and not very sociable, even on a good day, was participating in a game of crazy eights with Soldier, Demo, Sniper, and Medic. It must have been a really good day for him to feel comfortable enough to be around others, but to also have his goggles, which usually always stayed put on his face even outside of battle, hung around his neck with his dog tags, letting the eyes he was usually ashamed to let anyone see finally be exposed to the world.

It wasn’t often that Scout felt comfortable having his eyes exposed, even to his own team members. Most of the time he always had them covered by his goggles, or had the hood of his favorite sweatshirt covering half of his face.

But today, it seemed that the youngest member didn’t mind having his goggles off and having his upper face be exposed for the world to see. As much as no one outright admitted, it was nice to see that Scout trusted and felt comfortable enough with his team to let them see what he basically considered his most shameful flaw.

It was nice. Knowing there was a sense of security and comradery among the team to feel comfortable enough to not feel ashamed, scared, or even out of place. It was the type of sense that was only forged from years of blood, tears, sweat, and lots of crazy shenanigans that made bonds deeper than blood. A bond that was filled with trust and mutual understanding. Bonds that were hard to break and hard to unravel from, no matter how hard one could try.

It was these things that floated through Scout’s head, taking in this knowledge and carefully, carefully, decided that now would be a good time as any to finally ask something that had been bugging him for a while now.

“Comment était le vieux scout?”

“Hm? Say that again, roo?”

“Comment était le vieux scout?” He repeated, taking a card and setting it down. “À quoi ressemblait l’homme avant moi?”

“Ba. No one.” Medic waved one of his hands, studying his cards carefully. “Certainly not zomeone who’s interezting to talk about.”

“Hm? What’s that? We’re talking about someone?” Soldier looked up from his deck. “It better not be about our enemies! I don’t want to hear anyone mention those BLU maggots! Not unless they want my boot up their ass! Unless it’s to talk trash and mockery! If that is the case, I will go first! BLUS ARE NOTHING BUT A–!”

“Ack, it ain’t that, Solly. Kid was jus’ askin’ ‘bout an old team member of ours.”

“Oh. Really? Darn. Which one?”

“The Scout ‘fore him–”

“WE DO NOT TALK ABOUT THAT TRAITOR!” Soldier roared, slamming his hands down on the table and making everyone jump. “That MAGGOT was a dishonor to this entire unit! No, to the entirety of the WAR! He had no shame! No respect! NO HONOR! He was the farthest thing from being a true AMERICAN, and his presence will never be missed!”

“Bugger, Sol. Calm down.” Sniper patted his chest. “No need to yell. That man is long gone now, ya know that.”

“I know! And It INFURIATES ME!”

“Ja, ja! Ve know!” Medic readjusted his glasses, patting Scout’s arm to reassure the younger man who clung to him out of fear. “Ve know all about it! Jou vouldn’t stop ranting und zhouting how jou zhould have been ze one to put ze bullet in his head und everyzing.”

“AND I STILL SAY I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE TO PUT HIM DOWN!” A snort came out of his flared nostrils, teeth bared and almost ready to bite down on someone. “Dishonorable. That TRAITOR was nothing but a spineless coward! Dragged this whole team through the mud when he was around and brought more shame than anyone who came before him!” He took a deep breath, then slumped back down in his seat, sighing heavily as Demo reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “… should have been the one who did it. Was a fellow American, even if he tarnished the very soul of our pride.”

Sensing that the hot-blooded American wasn’t going to murder anyone, Scout loosened his grip on Medic’s arm, wetting his lips as he chose his next words carefully. “… Était-il… était-il vraiment si mauvais?”

“Ja. Bad. Vorse even.” Medic picked up his cards, looking them over before picking one and putting it down. “He… vell, I don’t zink he’s vorth talking about, nein? Especially zince he’s no longer around to bother anyone.”

“What brought this up, anyhow?” Sniper asked. “You were never curious ‘bout any of the old teams before.”

Scout went quiet. Then, after a minute, he opened his mouth.

“Ack! To bloody ‘ell with ‘im! Never liked that man. I’m jus’ glad that they finally got rid of ‘im all those years ago n’ replaced ‘im with this Scout.”

“Oi! I never said that!” Demo said as eyes landed on him. “I hardly ever talk ‘bout that blook! Why would I–” His eye widened with sudden realization. “Oooooooh! I get it now.” He waged a finger at Scout, chuckling. “I get it. Overheard me counterpart sayin’ that, did ya?”

Scout nodded, smiling shyly.

“Spying on the enemy, eh? Good work private! I commend you for your work!” Soldier saluted, nearly nicking his fingers on the bonesaw that was lodged in his helmet.

“Herr Soldier, can I have my zaw back now?”

“No!”

“It is not a decoration. I need it for my job.”

“You can have it back when you pry it from my cold, dead hands–”

“Or he could win it back.” Demo suggested, taking a swing of his beer. “It’s the main reason why he even agreed ta play in the first place.”

Medic muttered something in German, rolling his eyes and pushing his glasses back in place before turning his focus on Scout. “Jou overheard ze BLUs talking about ze old Zcout, ja? Is zat vhy jou are bringing him up in zis conversation?”

“Oui.” Scout nodded, then frowned before adding. “En fait, j’étais un peu curieux à propos de l’homme que j’ai remplacé. J’ai entendu des histoires sur certains des anciens membres de l’équipe, mais aucune sur le Scout. Pourquoi?”

“Like we said, roo, ain’t someone worth talking ‘bout.” Sniper said, looking at his cards with a frown. “Sol was right ta call him a traitor. Hardly cared much ‘bout the team, old or new.”

“Vas hardly ever a member.” Medic added as Sniper took cards from the deck. “Zere’s vere moments vhen… ack, nevermind. He’s gone now, zat’s all zat matters.”

“… Suis-je semblable au scout précédent?”

“NEIN!”

“Hell Naw Mate! Not a chance!”

“What? What he’d say?”

“He asked if he was similar to the old Scout!”

“What The Bloody Hell?!”

“NEGATORY!”

“Jeremy, vhy in ze vorld vould jou zink jou’re zimilar in any vay to ze old Zcout? Jou are nozing like him!”

Scout fiddled with his dog tags, biting his lower lip.

“… Is it from the way we acted when ya first arrived?” Sniper asked. “Back ‘fore we got ta know more ‘bout ya?”

His fingers trailed up from the tags to his goggles, tracing his thumb on the rim. “… peut-être.” He shook his head, letting out a sigh. “Je suis désolé. Je n’aurais pas dû demander. C’était une question stupide de toute façon.” His lips pulled a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Devrions-nous nous concentrer à nouveau sur le jeu?”

Everyone shared a glance, but said nothing as they returned to the game.

A heavy silence hung in the air now, one that hadn’t been there before.

Scout nearly wished he could slap himself for asking such a question. He had only heard snippets about the old Scout. Small whispers that were spoken in complaints from both teams. Jammy often told him that he sometimes overheard how some of his team members often compared him to the old Scout, but were quick to change the subject every time he tried asking.

Scout thought he had a better chance at asking since, while not as curious to know all about the man, he did wonder once or twice about who the old Scout was before he came along to replace him. What he had done had always tickled a certain spot in his brain that wanted to know what exactly the old Scout had done that had caused everyone on the team to hate him so much.

He couldn’t have been bad. Well, not as much as the old Spy before his Papa took over his spot. But not even his Papa, who had done background checks on all of the team members, was willing to tell him anything when he asked.

His own father.

The man who never liked to keep too many dark secrets from his only child if it meant it could keep him safe.

Whatever he had found, he did not want to share. And that scared Scout.

What did the old Scout do that was so bad that even his own father was unwilling to share?

He didn’t know.

And that just made him WANT to know.

“Dakota.”

Scout’s eyes snapped up, looking at Soldier in surprise. “Quoi?”

“Dakota.” Soldier repeated, rubbing his chin as his gaze remained fixed on his cards. “That’s where the Traitor was from. Never said if it was north or south, just Dakota.”

“Had a bit of an accent.” Sniper added. “Got real thick with it when he got mad. Which was bloody often.” He let out a scoff. “Weren’t a day that went by without the man screaming at the top of his lungs. Yelled an’ screamed jus’ ‘bout at everything and everyone.”

“Don’t remind me.” Medic hissed, rubbing his forehead. “Zat man vas a complete nuisance. He vould complain about everyzing. Und I mean, EVERYZING. Nozing zat ve did made ze schreckliche Plage happy. He vould complain over ze zmallest of zings to ze most ridiculous reasons.”

“The sky. The ground. Even the bloody weather outside.” Demo plucked a card and put it in the pile. “His most favorite thin’ ta complain ‘bout? His own team.”

“Not just complain. He’d mock us.” Soldier seethed, gripping his cards so tightly Scout was worried that they might rip. “Scorn us. Use just about every word in the dictionary to break our spirits and crumple our resolve deep into the ground. Even when achieving victory, he wouldn’t tolerate having anyone be in a good mood, and found every excuse to tarnish us out of spite.”

“Not to mention that the blook was a thief.” Snipe took a card from the deck, and then another. “Kept takin’ things that weren’t his. Personal belongings. Once tried to swipe my van, gave him a kukri that Medic had to remove from his stomach for the trouble.”

Medic let out a groan. “It vas zuch an awful day. Ze man kept complaining ze whole time, claiming zat he vasn’t trying to steal ze van und all zorts of nonsense. I vas half compelled to leave Herr Sniper’s kukri in him, but zen I vould have had to deal vith ze Belästigung sticking around constantly complaining about it. Ze faster he left my med-bay, ze better.”

A murmur of agreement was shared at the table, and Scout started to understand some of his teammates past actions.

“C’est pour cela qu’on me blâmait généralement quand quelque chose disparaissait?” He looked at his friends, eyes widened. “À cause de ce qui s’est passé dans le passé?”

“Yep.” Sniper nodded his head solemnly. “Not a good call on our part, though. We were jus’ too mistrustful of ya back then to notice that you weren’t anythin’ like the old Scout.”

“Aye.” Demo put down his drink. “That mangy backstabbin’ mutt had been nothin’ but pain an’ sufferin’ fer all of us. Did everythin’ he could to make our lives miserable here. Would dig ‘round lookin’ fer any weakness he could find an’ exploit it fer his own benefit.”

“It vas almost as if he vas ze Spy instead of ze Zcout.” A small smile graced Medic’s face before it dropped into a deep frown. “Und zat vas before ve all found out about his… other job.”

A deep grimace was on everyone’s face, glaring dangerously at their cards.

“Autre travail? Quel autre travail?”

An uncomfortable look was shared between Medic and Sniper.

“It’s not something you should worry ‘bout, roo.” Sniper finally said, looking away. “It’s all in the past now.”

“Mais qu’est-ce qui était–?”

“Herr Jeremy, please understand vhen ve tell jou zat it’s not zomething jou zhould vorry about.” Medic fixed his glasses back in place. “Ze old Zcout, vell… lets just zay zat his other job vas less zan an ideal one. A very… unethical zort of job.”

“Not the type that’s good to talk ‘bout.”

“That’s Right! It wasn’t the honorable job that we Americans have and can freely talk about! Even without the threat of Spy gutting us like lambs if we ever spoke about–!”

“SOLDIER!”

“Solly!”

“Herr Doe!”

“What? Oh, right.”

“Mon père t’a menacé?!” He looked at his team, surprised to learn that his father had apparently threatened them. He was more surprised that Spy had apparently threatened the team than he was about learning that his team was keeping some sort of big secret from him.

Medic waved a hand, huffing as he did so. “Ja, ja, he did. Zreatened us all under oath to never zpeak a vord of it. But only to be zure jou never learned about ze old Zcout’s past profession. He believed zat jou vouldn’t be comfortable knowing vhat zat man did before jou arrived here, und vould very likely have one of jour ‘episodes’ if jou knew. Zo, please, don’t ask vhat it vas, alright?”

Scout nodded his head, trusting his father’s judgment.

If he was certain that Scout would not like what he might learn, then Scout trusted the man who raised him for so many years.

Especially if he though he would have an episode.

He nodded his head.

“Good. I don’t not vant to give Herr Spy a reason to put a knife in my back outside of vork. I get enough of zat on ze field, und I don’t vant to take a trip zrough respawn.”

“Like that spook ever needs a reason to stab anyone.” Sniper scoffed. “All he needs is a back an’ one of ‘em sharp knives to stab with. Most unprofessional way to off someone.”

“Hé, sois gentil. C’est de mon père dont tu parles.”

“Don’t mean it ain’t true, roo.”

Scout rolled his eyes, unable to hide the soft smile on his face.

“Anyway, laddie. There are many reasons as to why we never like to talk about that scoundrel. All of it boiling down to him bein’ an absolute prick.”

“A wanker who enjoyed makin’ everyone’s life miserable.”

“A Belästigung und Nörgler.”

“A traitor who deserved what he got in the end.” Soldier finished, adding another card to the pile.

“Désolé d’entendre qu’il a été un tel échec.”

“Nah, ain’t nothing to apologize ‘bout that man. He only had himself to blame for the way he acted. ‘Sides, it turned out alright in the end. We got you on the team now.” Sniper reached over, ruffling Scout’s hair that made the younger man grin and chuckle. “An’ you’re WAY better than the old Scout ever was.”

“Ja! Nice, friendly, a good listener–”

“A good cook when ya get ‘nough nerve to stay ‘round–”

“Damn good at watching out for everybody–”

“And you’re a walking generator! Perfect for when the electricity goes out!”

Everyone stared at Soldier.

“… what? He is.”

“Oi, Solly. Ya gotta think of somethin’ better than that.”

“A generator? Really? THAT’S all ya got?”

“Je n’aime pas être un générateur.”

“Vell accuracy aside, zat vas rather–”

“AND WHAT’S WRONG WITH BEING A GENERATOR?!” Soldier bombed, shaking the table with his fist. “Being a generator is a GREAT HONOR! You hear me?! AN HONOR! Wear that knowledge proudly boy! Today you stand as a true example of American pride!”

Scout’s face fell. What was there to be proud of if he was only considered a walking generator?

“Why, think of all the maggots who’d kill to be someone like you!”

“Vell technically it vould more arcuately kill zem if zey tried to be like him. Herr Zcout’s condition–”

“The very idea of it!” Soldier got up from his seat, placing his foot on the table. “I can already imagine the hoards of people chasing after you for your American spirit! Ready to tear you limb from limb just to have a piece of you–!”

Sniper sighed as Soldier continued to go on about American spirit and the pride of being a generator, oblivious to the growing horror on Scout’s face as he described the brutal ways he could get dismembered. “He’s ranting again.” He whispered to Medic, who calmly put a comforting hand on Scout’s shoulder. “You got any of ‘em special tranquilizer on ya?”

Medic shook his head, rolling his eyes at Soldier’s ranting as he continued to comfort Scout’s growing horror.

“–while holding your guts up on proud display! Yes sir! Only true Americans can understand such great importance! Unlike that traitor! All he knew was to steal, demolish, trad away top secret information, and worked for some organization called–”

Soldier suddenly pitched forward, landing on the table with a knife sticking out from his back.

There was a long pregnant pause.

“… Bonjour papa. Veux-tu rejoindre le jeu?”

A moment later, Spy materialized, smiling as he pulled out his knife from Soldier’s backside. “Oui. I would love to join.”

[jammechanics]

And. We. Are. Back! Jam Mechanics returns for season 2 with our first guest prompter (Our longtime collaborator and artist, ⁠@deepblueink2d⁠!). In our first episode back we reveal the fate of Jam Mechanics Mansion (Castle?) and reflect on the ocean that separates our two co-hosts Jam Mechanics is a podcast hosted by Matt (@narcissistcookbook) and Bug (@bughuntermusic) where we are challenged to write a song demo from scratch every episode.

If you'd like downloadable files for this episode (and the demos we showed off), ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠you can go to our Bandcamp⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ or ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠website⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ to pay-what-you-want to support us!

Our brand-new discord is here⁠⁠⁠

and follow us on Instagram, YouTube, etc! Please share the show (and our music) with friends!

-- SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE BELOW --

Challenge: Transatlanticism

BUG'S SONG Title: Agamemnon Lyrics: I am aboard the Agamemnon, we are laying down a line It's gonna cross the ocean floor, the greatest project of our time A telegraph from Newfoundland will reach the Irish Shores but by by the time this note arrives you will not love me anymore

I am aboard the Agamemnon, laying cables in the sea For the purpose of the president to parley with the queen As for me, I've got this letter that I'll send you in the morn but by the time this note arrives you will not love me anymore

You will not love me by the time you read this note You told me you would wait if I had to go I keep your photo in a locket to remind me of my home

but while aboard the Agamemnon I have so much time to dream of a world where I can reach you with no middle-man between And maybe when we're done I'll get my turn, as a reward but I never got that chance, now you don't love me anymore When I made it to Niagara, you didn't love me anymore

You will not love me by the time you read this note You told me you would wait if I had to go I think of you so often with no way to let you know

This is only the beginning, this simple cable in the sea Soon we'll have radios and satellites and waves we cannot see No one'll know the pain of loving one they cannot reach

I'd commandeer the Agamemnon and I'd sail it back to shore it's just a faster way to learn that you don't love me anymore so I'll keep laying this cable for the lovers not yet born so that they may never hear "No, I don't love you anymore"

MATT'S SONG Title: The Tollbooth Lyrics: When Britain's national health service was launched in 1948 it set sail in the wake of the second world war when the country's citizens the upper and lower classes both the rich and the desperately poor had served together, side by side and the ones who survived the horrors came home demanding to no surprise more

we did not fight, they said in our millions just for things to return to the way they were we didn't die they said in our hundreds of thousands just to save a country where the leading cause of death is poverty and perhaps for the first time in british history the aristocrats and the working class agreed on something largely that arming the nation and teaching them how to fight and die for what they believe in makes their demands somewhat more convincing

and so barely three years after the soldiers had come home on july 5th, 1948 the british health system was torn out by the follicles and rebuilt in a new vision that it would be free at point of service, that no one, NO ONE, would be turned away or trapped into debt by lack of personal means that it would be available to everyone who walked through the doors of a hospital or a GP's office and that the well off wouldn't be able to skip the queue this was radical beyond comprehension a truly universal healthcare system doctors across the nation barred their doors and hired personal security so sure were they that the empowered impoverished would storm their offices demanding medicine and aid only to find on that monday morning a polite queue of people in need who for the first time were able to receive the treatment they would have had since birth if they had been born into a wealthier family

the trouble is healthcare is one of those futureproof industries like plumber people are always going to need water and if you can fix their pipes you are, within reason, set for life and the hospital and the doctor's surgery are no exception people are always going to get sick they're always going to get injured at the very very least everyone has to be born and everyone has to die and you would be an idiot would you not if you had the opportunity and the presence of mind to not set up a tollbooth at the well-worn bridges that lead into and out of this life

i am being faceitious of course who thinks like this who is so calculating and cruel that they would look at the legions of dying and sick and feel not compassion but greed who would see not the faces of their own parents, friends and children but a sea of investment a captured market a well of bottomless profit

it would be inappropriate for me to delve too deep into the catacombs that are the American Healthcare System if you are listening from those shores, then you know better than i do how it feels to live in fear of a broken bone of a cough that won't go away of a necessary surgery or a birth in the family I have personally met people who were having to choose between treatment for a treatable disease and a slow death So as to have something to leave their loved ones in their will A meagre windfall, after all, is infinitely preferable over a cascade of debt Maybe, at best, you are simply aware of how lucky you are To not fear these things as many do The privilege of being able to treat mild maladies as the inconvenience they are rather than an existential threat

I bring this up only because The profit machine that is the american healthcare system Is hungry And needs to be fed There is no such thing as too much money There is no endgame in an investment portfolio Where you find the princess in the very last castle and the credits roll There isn't a kill screen where the arcade machine craps out and kicks you back to the beginning The score just keeps getting bigger and bigger, the numbers getting longer and longer, Separated by decimal points and letters and commas And when the numbers get so unwieldy that we run out of space, Eh, we'll just start printing the end of year reports in landscape The machine needs to eat And the painkillers and bloodied sheets of 333 million people could only satisfy it for so long Its eyes, inevitably, have turned east

And what do you think it sees? When you have broken your arm and are getting it cast at 3am When your parents start visibly ageing and wilting When your child gets a cough that won't go away Do you think it wants to help? Or do you think it wants to fucking eat them?

[mantidbasil]

I have been thinking nonstop about how tf2 mercs and markiplier egos would interact now 😭

-------

Heavy, squinting down at Dr. Iplier: tiny.... tiny little doctor...? (mark is only taller than engie, maybe the same height as pyro)

------- Medic: Hey if you want I could heal your ey- The Host: NO. Medic: :( why not The Host: It's complicated Medic: Please don't tell me your eye sockets are haunted too... ------- Google: (minding his own buisiness) Engineer, visibly twitching: Hey there. (slowly pulls out screwdriver. casually approaches). Mind if I ask how you were made? ------- Spy has no interest in interacting with anyone until he finds Dark sitting in a corner drinking wine. He sits down next to them, pours himself a glass, and they just silently exchange looks. -------

PYRO AND WILFORD PYRO AND WILFORD OMG Pyro: (drawing rainbows) Wilford: Ha ha! I'm wearing rainbow suspenders!

Pyro: (burning down buildings, setting people on fire) Wilford: This is fine because death isn't real! (shoots someone)

Pyro: Mmph Mmph! Wilford: Unfortunately your subtitles haven't been translated, so ol' Warfstache here doesn't know what you're saying :(

------- Bing and Scout do skateboard tricks together. Both of them attempt a very simple trick and fail it, falling down and scraping their knees. Both insist they are the better skater, the world's best skater even.

-------

Heist Mark pulls out his bombs and his 16th Century flintlock pistol likely used by pirates for boarding actionsTM and Demoman is mildly interested. Heist Mark then proves that he has strangely extensive knowledge about medieval weaponry and Demo is much more interested. Demo pulls out Eyelander and Captain Magnum joins their little group where they all start talking about weapons and bombs.

-------

Engineer: (disappointed after having failed to get permission to take Google apart and put him back together) Head Engineer Mark: Hi there! I heard you're an engineer? I'm an engineer! Engineer: Do you. Build guns. Or robot arms. Head Engineer Mark: I mean I have the Asteroid Defense System turrets..... but actually I build a spaceship and sort of maybe a time travel universe breaking machine? Engineer: So a dangerous device that can destroy the world.... can I see the schematics?

------- I know in my SOUL Ed Edgar and Sniper hate each other but I can't elaborate. Illinois and Sniper have a very casual truce going on but ultimately Sniper does not really wanna hang out with anyone. This of course means the Jims spot him standing off to the side and think he's the perfect intervewee and at least three, maybe four Jims swarm Sniper and shove cameras and microphones inches from his face and he has a terrible time.

-------

Yandere somehow completely enchants Medic's doves and I can't elaborate on this either. Heavy is bemused. As long as Archimedes chooses Medic over Yan he's going to pretend he isn't jealous about the attention his doves are giving her. Scout goes "AWOOGA GIRL?!" and gets stabbed by Yan. Heavy is reminded of his younger sisters and is delighted.

-------

Eric Derekson is terrified of Soldier. The main two off the top of my head who are not put off by Soldier's shouting are King of the Squirrels and Yancy. Soldier corners King and is like "what are you king of?! not america. WHAT COUNTRY IS SQUIRRELS" Scout hears Yancy speak, hears the accent, and immediately throws hands.

-------

I am yap-o-clock-ing in your ask box but I needed to give you the brainrot that you've given me

OH MY GOD IM DRAWING SOME OF THESE I PROMISE YOU . I DONT KNOW WHEN ILL DRAW THEM BUT I BET YOUR ASS THEYLL BE DRAWN. KEEP YAPPING IN MY INBOX.

PLEASE. PLEASE KEEP TALKING.

TF2 x MARK EGOS BRAINROT !!!!!!!!!

[evajellion]

Mean Bean Tsuu Demo Review

Wow, cool. This is a thing that exists as a work in progress. Gonna shoot my shot and give criticism while praising some stuff, as I do.

Biggest praise right away, love the graphic and soundtrack adjustments to to the main gameplay. The remix of Green Hill Zone is great. The main three now also use the final boss theme that Dr. Robotnik had. It's a neat touch.

Actual criticism I have (that isn't the lack of offset rules, they are gonna add that in the full game) so far is that apparently this game is going to follow "a story more in line with that of Japanese Classic Sonic canon"…

I mean not for nothing, but the whole appeal of Dr. Robotnik's Mean Bean Machine is that it's set in the AoStH universe and has the characters. I would lean more into that aspect than just using generic Badnik designs. I asked what some other peeps thought, and they agreed.

I love the effort put into Coconuts, but… as much flack as DiC gets, I definitely always thought this design was an upgrade from Sonic 2 to the cartoon.

There is room for compromising the designs, which would have been to use the reboot Archie comic one-

But yeah, I mean, I would have reskinned Humpty into DOS Holiday instead of altering Coconuts for the demo. And of course, I think they should just use characters from the cartoon. AoStH does have good designs despite how out there they are.

Also- not criticism, but damn, how do you expect me to pick on poor Humpty when he's so sweet? I could never. 😭

Not sure if the fan favorites are gonna be removed from the final, that doesn't bode well, given how popular Davy Sprocket always was with deviantArt users.

One last thing I would like to go over, is that although the game is based on Puyo Puyo Tsu, it probably isn't going to have the… frankly, insane roster it had for the time. A whooping 33 opponents (37 in the Sega Saturn one), with a score system that determined how quickly you can get through the game. That's a tall order that no one could easily fulfill unless you reskin Puyo Tsu in its entirety.

But I do hope the full game does at least have more than 13 opponents, and includes the "first boss of the first game becomes a penultimate enemy" that was done with Draco. Arms deserves a redemption arc. :)

Besides offsetting, I hope they add the rest of the Puyo Tsu features such as "ALL CLEAR", Rule Henka (Point Puyo and Hard Puyo), and how crazy the nuisance queue can get.

Maybe also make a silly name for the title, since the whole "tsu" thing only works in Japanese. "Robotnik's Eggspertise Machine"? "Mean Bean Part 2: Electric Boogaloo?" I dunno.

So yeah, dunno if anyone from SHC will see this post. I don't have an account there and joining the Discord makes me nervous, so this is just a drop in the ocean I'm making here lol.

Hope my silly yaps are taken into consideration. If not, then that's okay too. We AoStH fans will take anything at this rate.

Demo can be found here if anyone wants to try it out.

[gauloiseblue]

Specific songs for COD character's scenarios

I was listening to my playlist, and my brain randomly threw ideas at me. I was too lazy to write those fics, but I just had to get it out of my system. Anyway, here's a list of songs that I associate with COD characters, along with the summary of the story.

I will add more in the future, but for now, I think it's pretty much it. To the imaginariland we go.

Price

The Girl In The Yellow Dress - David Gilmour

Unwinding at a bar leads him to a pleasant meeting with a girl. Evening turns into night, as he becomes more and more enamored by the girl. Until the band stops, and she leaves him in the dark. Never once told him her name.

Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd

Old married couple AU, where Price has retired. His kids have grown up, leaving him and his wife alone. After all they've been through—big arguments, strained relationships, and long months deployment—they realize they still love each other to the end.

Ghost

Hyper-ballad - Björk

Whenever Simon comes home, he struggles to live in normalcy. His partner is unchanging, while he's never the same man after all the missions. To keep himself grounded, he made the habit of leaving the house at the dead of the night, to stare at the darkness of the forest in the backyard. Sometimes, he lets his mind wander to the possibility of him walking into the forest and disappears, but it soon dies down when he looks back to his house.

During one of his mission at a secluded village in Germany, he encounters a strange girl by the river. She's a human, but her demeanor seems to suggest otherwise. Though he doesn't believe in myths, he begins to think that the cautionary tale of a Nymph in this village carries a grain of truth.

König

It's Possible - Piero Piccioni

There's a reason behind his lack of commitment to love, and no one knows it except for his best friend. He might’ve been too hot-headed and reckless, but he's loyal. That was until a certain girl from his childhood betrayed him. And yet, after all these years, his heart still belongs to her.

Alejandro

Eye Hate U - Prince

Before Shadow Company became what it is now, Graves had a loving wife and a perfect home. She's smart, and capable of giving him advices. Until his pride took him over, and he became neglectful, ignoring her warnings on certain missions. She left him before the Al Mazrah Incident happened, leaving him bitter and regretful.

Graves

The Next Best American Record (Demo) - Lana Del Rey

National Anthem - Lana Del Rey

In the height of his career, money was never an issue for him. He could buy any weapons he wanted, and he could afford the most luxurious lifestyle. He can still afford it, but he has to work harder for it. He doesn't mind it, after all, it's only right for him to treat his wife, right?

Young Lust - Pink Floyd

Though he refuses to admit it, his relationship with his wife has gone cold. Over years of infidelity and neglect, she decided to leave the house, and moved to her old apartment. He thought one day she'd change her mind and come back to him, until one night, he heard a man's voice when he called her on the phone.

Coming to a high-school reunion opens an old scar in him, as he sees his high-school sweetheart in the arm of another man. Their relationship was great, it was great, but sadly, she thought otherwise.

Gaz

Love Is A Laserquest - Arctic Monkeys

[meatball-headache]

Hydroid Prime :D

I'm entering my Professional Hydroid Phase. Now, my toxic trait is that every Warframe has "their" weapons, and in some ways, the Warframes I like is just because I like their weapon. I have no idea how good these weapons are, I just use things I like. Hildryn has the Amprex, Oberon has the Basmu, and Hydroid started with the Boar, then graduated to the Kuva Hek. But I need something different...

Right now, he's holding the Fulmin, but that's going to change. @chiclet-go-boom says I need a water gun, but I don't know all the guns well enough to know which is like that. So, I went to the wiki, and just looked at a page of weapons! In alphabetical order, they start with arm cannons. I'm thinking Atomos. That's beam-like, stream-like, right? The first weapon is something called Bubonico, an Infested shotgun arm cannon. Hm, we'll make note of that. I'm also chasing the prime parts for Trumna Prime—as well as the normal parts of Trumna. Man, this game is complicated, and everything has its own system... how lucky we are to have a game like this, and for free no less :p

Anyway, I'm no meta slave, but, I want to make sure these weapons are at least decent, so I go to Overframe to check out where Bubonico and Trumna stand, and—oh, well, okay. As voted by the community, they're both S tier. Good! This is promising! And they'd better be, because the amount of work I'm putting into getting them both—Trumna needs a slew of mining, fishing, and collected stuff from Deimos, as the Bubonico needs 10 mutagen masses, which are a 12-hour blueprint, or you have to wait for an invasion... Well, like I say, I'm here for a long time, not a good time!

So, I did as much as I could for now, and I'm cooking the parts for Trumna, one mutagen mass, and I hit up all the invasions for a couple more. And then I thought: hey, there's probably like, a Youtube demoing the weapon, showing off builds or something? So, I went to Youtube and checked them out. I skipped to the part where I see how they shoot. First up was Trumna, and—oh damn! It's cool as fuck! An assault rifle with explosive rounds, and an alt fire that's a BIG boom! Awesome, no wonder it's popular. And then I looked at Bubonico—

To quote Memet, "Ohh, look at that massive cannon!"

It's BIG! It's the size of your whole self! This isn't a gun that you hold, this is a parasite that takes over your whole body! And, how does it shoot? Oh, it splashes, it flashes, it explodes the whole place! Not only is that effective and practical, but it also keeps with the water theme! As for its stats, it does natural toxic damage, so it's easily converted to corrosive to take advantage of Hydroid's abilities. And, if that's not enough... it regenerates its own ammo, my favorite thing!

Yeah, yeah. I'm into it. I'm all over this thing. I am champing at the bit, watching the timer on my foundry, watching the invasions for any hint of more mutagen masses... I need this thing now! ...but, we'll wait.

Also, I switched up my build on Hydroid. Previously I sacrificed strength for range and duration, as was the style at the time. But with his new Plunder move, it's beneficial to have some strength. So I switched things up, and I'm seeing immediate results... where previously the buff stopped at 80% damage, now I'm seeing up to 380%, and the armor buff went from 300 to like 1,400 :D And since he's more actively casting now, rather than just putting down tentacles once a minute and letting it ride, I've got a big energy pool, with which I absolutely spam 1, and with these damage bonuses, I'm actually seeing a really solid amount of damage from it... Oh! I'm having so much fun!

As for other weapons, I was using the Pyrana Prime to level it up and quite liked it; I checked the tier list and the community agrees, so I'll keep it. And I think Nami Skyla Prime is the right melee weapon for him, he's got it in all his demo reels and stuff. I'm not completely sold on that, though, so I'll keep my eyes peeled for another pirate cutlass, or maybe just make a good zaw. But, man oh man, I can't wait until the Bubonico is ready, that thing looks awesome. I mean, look, here it is, I'll try it on:

Giant infested mutated parasite that goes up your whole arm and half your back, also the gun area is huge? Man, this thing rules so much. I want it. I want it now. I want it yesterday. I can't wait.

eeeeeeeeee :D

[perfectlysanexd]

So, what have I been up to...? Since I was in Tumblr's spam-bot prison for more than 5 months, I thought I would create a little ICYMI post. (That's "In-Case-You-Missed-It" for the old folks like myself that have to look up all these new acronyms.) Basically, I'm gonna highlight/link to some of the posts I made this year, and you can check them out if you like. :) I didn't want to necessarily do a bunch of reblogs of my own content and clog up the system or something...

I finished posting up my 100's of edited screenshots from Advent Children Complete! You can view the archive of 53 different posts, separated by character, here. It also includes a fun side post about the Mysterious Case of Sephiroth's Missing Straps. :3

I confess, I haven't made too many wallpapers this year. But it's September now, and I have a thought rolling around in my head. We'll see. The archive of wallpapers is here.

Speaking of, so many cool wallpapers came out for Ever Crisis, and I've posted them all! Find them here, at the bottom of this archive post. I swear I'll eventually beat TFS season 1, but...they sure made it difficult for people who don't purchase their packs.

Did you know that Tumblr is feeding your posts(including reblogs) to theird party AI? Well, they are, and you can set it to be prevented in your settings. I talked about it here.

Rebirth coming out was the biggest thing this year, and I made my first manipulation for it back in March! You can see the post here, as well as a simple tutorial for it using GIMP(GNU Image Manipulation Program, free at gimp.org) here.

I also made a second manipulation for Rebirth! If you want to see the additional dialogue that goes with it, that's here.

When I played the demo for Rebirth, I noticed that they had changed Sephiroth's eyes, and it reminded me of something...

Did you know that in Advent Children, Sephiroth's gloves are not as tight as in Remake and you can see his wrists? 😏Check it out! What? Of course this is important!

I took a look at Sephiroth and all his forms over the years. Then I did the same for Cloud.

My AO3 sefikura work In Death was finished on April 26th, and came with a special manipulation. That was also the first story where I was accused of writing non-con, when it obviously wasn't, so that was fun. If you need to hydrate, you can go drink that tea in the comments of, I think, chapter 16 and after. Several people have asked about a sequel, and I do have eventual plans. Hang in there.

I made my first(of many) Rebirth memes, which also came with a blank template.

A peek under Sephiroth's jacket, courtesy of Rebirth. 😏Yes, this is important, obviously.

Another Rebirth meme, featuring Sephiroth being badass.

I put my design for Lucrecia's locket onto my edited EC Sephiroth artwork! This one actually got a lot of notes thanks to reblogging. 💕I also put the locket on Sephiroth's EC in-game model.

I wrote a long one-shot as a thank you for 400+ followers! It's based on my most popular sefikura manipulation of all time—a very indulgent work, and my first time writing for Rebirth. Thanks, guys!

Another meme, haha...oops, and another one. Damn, another one? AND a Sephiroth/Cloud arms-crossed companion meme set?

I did another Rebirth manipulation, this time of the famous sefikura hug scene. I added a second part to it here. AND a third part to it here! This set has quickly become one of my favorites. I also gave it some Japanese dialogue+translation here.

I did a little PSA because I've seen a lot of awfully suspicious digital paintings lately...

I made an account on Twitter/X, just in case they never fixed my blog, so if you're over there, follow me @ perfectlysane77 and say hi. :)

The FF7 crew have super hearing, confirmed??

Do you play Ever Crisis and want to join a sefikura guild? Check here. All skill levels are welcome, and you don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to.

My first ever edited Rebirth video: "Fill your hollow heart...with me-ow."

And now I've been released from Tumblr spam-bot prison, so I'm sure you've seen even more silly memes from me. So what now? I hope to release the rewrite of Stranger Inside very soon, maybe by the end of the month if possible? The sequel will follow, for real this time. At that point, we'll be back to voting, so you guys will be able to choose what comes after that. I'm really focused on writing now, which is probably why I'm mostly making memes and silly things. Still, if it makes you laugh, I'm happy. 🥰

If you read this to the end, you're amazing.💕

[ddwcaph-game]

Progress Update

Hello everyone! I know this is a bit late, but Happy Pride Month! 🌈

I actually have something relevant to share: I'll be adding demigender and bi/multigender to the gender options in the next update! Not only that, but you will now also be able to pick your twin's pronouns separately, along with the option to choose multiple pronouns for them.

The cis and questioning options are now separate, similar to how you choose MC's gender. I hope the wording above is alright, but from top to bottom, it's Trans, Non-binary, Demigender, Bi/Multigender, and Genderfluid.

The multiple pronoun option has also been improved so that it's actually randomized at certain intervals, and is no longer limited to two pronouns. You will now also be able to change your twin's pronouns in the stats screen if they are genderfluid (thanks to the locket's empathy/telepathy powers). Speaking of, I'm thinking of adding custom pronouns too when I port the game to VN, but no promises.

Anyway, sorry again for the delays! Aside from me getting sick and having computer problems again, I have a habit of suddenly getting more ideas just as I'm about to finish an update. This is why I don't even give estimated dates anymore. 😅

More info about the next update below:

Since I'm adding F6E's reactions to MC's ancestry, I'm also taking the time to add some banter about MC's favorite genre.

Besides that, I'm currently working on an addition to Roselyna's BFF scene, and I can't not add it because it's very important to her character development. As in, she probably wouldn't have ran away during the storm if this particular event didn't happen. Her emotional level will now also determine whether she lets Wayne (and MC) continue calling Josie mommy or not.

I also had to overhaul the pronoun system to get the new stuff to work. It's a lot more work than you might realize, but it's worth it because I found lots of bugs, and it actually got simpler, even with the new randomizing feature.

And since I'm updating the variables, I also took the time to change most of the mom/dad/ate/kuya variables to actually use the translated terms if you choose to have a twin language (in the narration, diary, and during private conversation).

I'm also adding new and very fun choices to the existing chapters which will add a new layer to your decision making. Yup, the "plot hole" in the title will actually make sense now. 🤭

There's also lots of other smaller things. Lots of them. The change log is over 300 lines now. But here's a tiny snippet from Lily's BFF scene before I go back to the editing mines:

"Let's talk about that later. We're almost at the station." Tita Rickie slaps Tita Dani's arm. "So turn off that damn underglow before you forget. You really had to install those, huh?" "C'mon, Rickie. Of all the things I could add, this is by far the least illegal one," Tita Dani grumbles as she stops the SUV near Barangay 143's police station.

(By the way, I'm currently updating the Trinkets and Secrets Guide in preparation for the next update. Don't be surprised if some of the stuff in there is incompatible with the current demo!)