#daily. an event haunting me without even being able to put things into the perspective everyone else's shares with me

[erraticroses]

.

[duker42]

💜Age Matters💜

💜Age Matters💜

Nervously tugging on the straps across her chest, Y/N takes one more look in the mirror. Confident her uniform is pristine, her gaze falls to the insignia on her jacket. The Wings of Freedom look very different from the Garrison Roses that she had worn for the past 15 years.

Leaving her new quarters in the Survey Corps Headquarters, she prepares herself for a barrage of questions, doubts and mistrust. While the Garrison might support the Scouts on expeditions, it’s practically unheard of for someone to transfer in like she has. Especially for someone who has been the Garrison as long as she had.

Reaching the Mess Hall, she observes the soldiers around her. There is clearly two age groups, very young and her age. The number of people she sees that are around her age is lower that she had expected. Then again, when 30% of the force is lost every expedition, did she really think there would be vast numbers of veterans?

Grabbing her tray, she chooses a spot seemingly out of the way, not knowing that she was about to be overrun with young, curious new Scouts. Suddenly, several trays dropped down on the table around her as bodies flopped onto the benches.

“God,” a two toned haired boy groaned. “I thought we would have a little break in training after we joined the Regiment. I feel like we are back in the Training Corps.”

A delicate looking blonde boy answered him. “Well, we have to learn our squad’s movements. The expedition is only 30 days out.”

She listen as the conversation passes back and forth between the group. They are kids, energetic, idealistic kids. Musing over their differences in personality, but obvious close relationships, she don’t realize that she was being spoken to until the tiny angelic blonde touches my arm.

“Are you okay?” Her small voice is easy to hear as everyone else has stopped talking and turned to me.

“Oh, sorry. I was wool gathering. I’m fine, thank you.”

“My name is Christa. What’s yours?”

“Y/N”

The rest of the table goes around and introduces themselves. Reiner, Berthold, Ymir, Connie, Sasha, Jean, Armin are unfamiliar to her. Y/N had heard of Mikasa for her impressive display of skills during the Battle of Trost. And of course everyone has heard of the emerald eyed Titan shifter, Eren Yeager.

The two toned haired boy, Jean, leans over Eren with what she could only assume he believes is a charming smile. “I could have sworn I had met all the beautiful girls in our class, but I haven’t seen your gorgeous face before. Why is that?”

Eren pushes the boy off of him and they glare at it each other a moment before turning back to her for the answer.

“I just transferred in from the Garrison.” She braces herself for the follow up question.

“Why on earth would you do that??” Comes a surprised question from Jean.

“I was tired of it. All most seemed interested in doing was getting drunk and fighting. If I’m going to fight, I would rather it be for humanity rather than against some poor slob in a bar.” Y/N explains.

The kids stiffen up and return to their food quietly as she feels a presence behind her. Turning, Y/N sees the infamous Captain Levi. Shorter than most men, he still commands respect and attention. His stormy blue eyes miss nothing as he openly scrutinizes the young looking woman. Never having been this close to the enigmatic soldier, she was surprised at how attractive he was. She knew him to be around her age, but like her, he looked younger than his years. Pale, clear skin and jet black hair framed his sharp face nicely. His neutral expression did not seem to put the kids at ease, but Y/N could tell that it was just the way his face rested.

Levi meanwhile was appraising Y/N. Having read her file, he had originally been wary of the transfer. He didn’t trust the intentions of a soldier who suddenly gave up the position of Squad Leader to transfer over to the Scouts. While there were no reasons given beyond her explanation to the brats, he was going to keep his eye on her. Especially since she had immediately ended up at the same table as the Titan shifter.

It did catch him off guard with how young she looked. She could have passed for a new recruit if he was unaware of her time in the Garrison. He internally rolled his eyes in annoyance at the prospect of all the hormonal brats getting to know her. It was going to distract them from their training, and in turn, piss him off.

“When you’re done, you’re with me, Garrison. Time to see what you’ve forgotten sitting on your ass, safely behind the walls.” His word comes across sharp and dry.

Standing, she picks up her tray and silently follows the Captain. Disposing of the tray, she walks behind him, observing his quick purposeful strides out of the castle and down to the training grounds.

Without breaking his stride, he questions her. “What’s missing from your file? The real reason you transferred?”

“Captain, I transferred because I was tired of the antics of the Garrison. Most are just as bad as the MPs.”

Stopping, he turns and stares at her, reading her for dishonesty. “That’s all?”

“If you read my file, you know I was a Squad Leader. I had a soldier under me that had acted inappropriately towards other soldiers several times. Starting vicious fights, stealing, generally causing problems. When I took action against him, I was censured. He was drinking and gambling buddies with our superiors. I want nothing to do with filth like that. So I asked to transfer.” Her confidence bespoke of her honesty.

Finding no reason to doubt her words, Levi merely nodded and started walking towards the ODM course. Quickly grabbing gear for her, he appraises her as she equips.

“When was the last time you wore the gear?” He asks, noticing her fumbling with a few of the connections.

“Retaking Trost, sir.”

“Did you stand on the roof like all the other idiots, or did you run?” She grits her teeth at the abrasive question. She rationally knows he’s trying to push her buttons, but to imply she was a coward pissed her off.

Her eyes flashed with anger as she spit out, “5 solo kills, 4 assists. I DID NOT run.”

Folding his arms across his chest, he quirks an eyebrow, surprised at her kills. While his numbers were unimportant in his mind, he was impressed that someone who doesn’t encounter Titans regularly kept her composure during the surprise attack on the town.

Running her through the course several times, he noted that while her movements weren’t quite fluid, that seemed to be from lack of practice rather than lack of skill. Taking into account the fact that the Garrison got less ODM time than Scouts, her skills were still above the fresh recruits from the 104th. Satisfied with her performance, he signaled her to come back.

**Time Skip**

In the several weeks since transferring, Y/N had started to settle in. Making friends with several of the veterans, she was able to talk with them about events that had occurred, sharing her perspective from the Garrison. The 104th soldiers were endearing to her, she almost viewed them as younger siblings. Still having not revealed her age, she was enduring daily advances by most of the boys, Jean especially.

Levi sat at the superiors table observing Y/N interact with the kids. His jaw tightened as he watched Jean throw another flirty grin at the alluring woman. He had come to like Y/N, quickly taking advantage of her former position as a Squad Leader to pull her into his office every evening to assist with the mountains of paperwork he never seemed to finish. In between the scratching of pen against paper, they had begun to talk, first about non-consequential things. As the hours past in the candle light, the conversation had turned personal, more so on her part. While he still held himself back from revealing all of his past, he was surprised to realize that in a few short weeks, she knew as much about him as his closest friends Erwin and Hange.

Jean grabs Y/N’s hand, rubbing his fingers across her knuckles, causing Levi to set his cup down and get up, intent on going over to the table to put the kid in his place. He doesn’t understand the feelings he’s having, but he knows that he hates it. Walking quietly towards them, he stops as he hears the conversation.

“Y/N, you have to go on a date with me! Your face is haunting my dreams.” Jean smiles, thinking that his admission is suave.

“I’ve told you before Jean, you’re too young for me.” She gently pulls her hand from his, annoyed that he just doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“Babe, you can’t be too much older than me. I promise I’ll satisfy you.” Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, he moves in closer.

Levi is ready to tear the boy apart physically, but Y/N beats him to it, verbally.

“Okay, kid, I’m done being nice. Let me put this a way you will understand. I am old enough to have pushed you out of my vagina. Why the FUCK would I let you in it?” Her words filet him neatly.

Levi almost laughs at how quickly Jean pales. The horrified expression on his face grows as Y/N continues.

“Or do you have mommy issues? I’m not into that kind of kink, thanks though.”

The table explodes with laughter and someone throws out the question that is on all of their minds. How old is Y/N?

“I’m 31. I was in the Garrison for 15 years, not 1 like you all assumed.” She grins.

The conversation moves on, the kids amazed at Y/N’s age and asking questions about events past. Levi walks away, satisfied that the brats will no longer be hitting on the woman he secretly has come to think of as his.

**Time Skip**

Knocking on the door to his office, Y/N waits for Levi to open the door. She had noticed her grumpy superior walking towards the table at dinner, his posture stiff from anger. When he changed his course after watching her putting Jean in his place, she knew that she had not imagined the growing relationship between them.

When the door opens, her pulse speeds up like every other time she comes face to face with the sullen man. His posture relaxed, he stood back and let her enter. Walking towards the desk in the absurdly tidy office, Y/N realized there were no stacks of paper to pour over. The convenient cover for spending hours trying to get to know Levi was not going to work tonight. Facing him, she watched him close the door quietly, staring at her as he walked slowly towards her.

“You distract me. I don’t like it.” Levi comments.

“I’m sorry?” Tilting her head in confusion, Y/N tries to understand where the conversation is headed.

“I didn’t like that brat thinking he had a chance of touching you. It pissed me off.”

“Ahhhhhh, you were jealous.” A small smile curved her lips as she begins to see.

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, stopping an arm length from her. “I don’t get jealous.”

Now she rolls her eyes, “Maybe not before. But you shouldn’t be.”

Invading her senses, he steps closer, the space in between them non existent. His observant grey orbs darken as her breathing quickens. She lifts her hand to his chest, slowly feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. Bringing a hand to her waist, he questions. “Why is that?”

Wetting her lips, she leans forward, breathing into him as she honestly replies. “I don’t do younger. Age matters to me.”

“Thank fuck I’m older.”

Mobile MasterList

[light-of-being]

24.01.19 (On Memory & Identity)

Memory has always been haunting for me, no matter its valence. It has a threatening and menacing presence to it -- too much realness even as it distorts reality -- a sense that it will become here and now, take over everything, come true and break the sensible flow of time. I am here and not-here, there and not-there, everything both is and isn’t. Which is of course pretty ridiculous and that knowledge should probably suffice to reduce the fear, but it doesn’t. But there may be some basis to that.

Much (all) of my life, or at least the parts significant enough to make it into memory, is largely internal. It happened in my head. External events have seldom been very influential since early childhood. And so remembering (at least, in an experiential not purely factual way) becomes more than just recall,it becomes reliving completely. It’s like that whole thing where hallucinated pain could just as well be real pain -- if I imagine a creature, say, it not being real could save me from real danger it could present; if I imagine pain, the harm is already here. It serves no reassurance. And replaying the contents of consciousness that wholly internally led to collapse is indistinguishable from the original experience. They have the same causative powers, the same felt suffering.

So the alternative response may be to go, well, I’ve had that already. I’ve been down that road. I know where it leads, and it isn’t complete chaos -- it’s here. I’ve learnt and grown; I’m better equipped now. Even if I somehow end up back there, I should be able to find my way out. I did it once, so I can do it again. Right?

Idk. I’ve never actually known how to get out or what eventually worked. It feels like more a case of accidentally stumbling out than discovering a path I can retread. A fluke, at best, albeit one I’ve obviously done very many times. And it’s precisely memory that ends up betraying me -- I get trapped into states and perspectives where I no longer have access to the rest of my brain. I lose whole chunks of my life and have no references I can turn to...written records I make in one state don’t quite “translate” to another -- they seem off, don’t fit the assumptions, don’t make sense to believe in under that perspective. Each one believes “wtf I was clearly very confused” with regard to the others. Each lays a claim to be the only one that’s truly lucid.

My sense of time broke before my memory did. I’d sit in class, acutely aware of every motion around me, time passing by one second at a time. And then it didn’t. Things were frozen -- or rather, I was. The world went on around me and I just...didn’t. I wasn’t there anymore.

I’m not entirely sure at what point my memory started disintegrating, but I suspect it was around the time I started university, and the same time as my concentration did. It might have been the medication I’d just started (we’ll find out soon when I get off it and onto typical antidepressants). It might also have been my desperate attempt to put behind me everything that had happened before then and begin anew. A fresh place, new meds, new approach to life, far away from family and schoolmates and anything familiar.

When saying, “I don’t want to be this person anymore,” it’s probably important to nonetheless believe and acknowledge that you are still that person in some way. But my changes...idk. My selves are wildly different -- very little survives the transitions. I don’t just behave differently or hold different surface-level beliefs, the origins and ways I think, the things I value transform. I lose the direct personal access to the mind of the person I was. I oftentimes struggle to even relate to myself except as I would a complete stranger.

Which is another reason memories can be very disconcerting. They’re not just hyperreal and extremely present, it very often feels like they’re someone else’s memories. Like momentarily possessing another person and living a scene from their lives -- foreign, strange, not me but still very very real in their affective components. So the threat isn’t just parts of my life coming back, it’s the idea of somehow becoming permanently stuck in the life of this other person -- turning into them. And perhaps it isn’t I who possesses them, but they who possess me. Control me, take over me. And maybe...not release me.

New persons emerge when there are things the old one has not successfully dealt with, or objectives it would be unable to achieve. Often, intense suicidality that culminates in a figurative death of the personality and is ‘survived��� only through the formation of someone else who doesn’t have that particular problem. (Although there’s also the fact that the suicidality is typically the result of me being unable to uphold a self any longer -- a disillusionment.)

So maybe being taken over by a previous person does not in fact end with me finding my way back out -- because that person clearly could not. That person was choosing to (and perhaps did, in some sense) die. I had to get rid of them to survive -- I am the one who got out, not them, and if I lose me I may not. But you can’t get rid of anything completely, can you? Something, somewhere still remains. And as long as you don’t integrate it, you will not be at peace.

If I am to form a coherent sense of self and stability in my daily life, I must somehow address the fear of recurrence, the haunting suspicion that I never really moved past any of the things I’ve lived through, only pretended to: only escaped by becoming someone else. And that my present life tethers precariously on the edge of that pretence, built off trying to leave behind where I’ve been, without knowing where I’d rather be, and expecting at any moment to slip off either into the unknown ahead or the terrible knowns behind.

[simmonsjosephine1991]

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[entergamingxp]

Inside gaming’s least safe safe rooms • Eurogamer.net

Via Facebook group chat, I’m speaking with Suguru Murakoshi and Hiroko Usuda from the now-defunct Team Silent. We’re talking about their time working on Silent Hill 4: The Room as director and designer, respectively – diving into the creation of Room 302, the apartment that kicks off the story and remains ever-present in the narrative.

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR SILENT HILL 4, DOOM ETERNAL, DEATH STRANDING, WARHAMMER END TIMES – VERMINTIDE, FATAL FRAME 3: THE TORMENTED, AND AMNESIA: THE DARK DESCENT.

It’s the only save point in the game, naturally turning it into a safe room. Over time, however, this initial promise of safety is broken by a series of increasingly dangerous hauntings, turning your home into an unfamiliar and hostile space.

“The concept of Silent Hill 4 was clear from the early stages of development – the fear of eroding the safest places,” director Murakoshi tells me. “Three teams came up with a plan, and the concept of a room was chosen because it was the scariest of them. Since then, rooms have always been at the core.”

Room 302 is terryfying from the off because it doesn’t let you unlock the door from the inside. But at least the room is presented as your sanctuary. It’s only halfway into the story that things change. Looking back, Usuda considers this a “contrasting expression”.

Silent Hill 4’s Room 302.

Safe rooms have long been present in video games. Survival horror has treated them as a tradition over the years, offering players a shelter to save their progress, resupply, and regain their breath. They are great motivators to continue venturing further in Resident Evil games despite the unforeseen horrors waiting on the other side of the door. Iterations on this idea can be seen in other genres as well, present in the likes of Dark Souls’ bonfires, Darkest Dungeon’s camps, and many others. Although the purpose of each safe room may differ, the expectation from players is the safe room is, in fact, safe. But some developers have subverted this expectation, finding a new way to expose horror in previously guarded spaces.

We all broke a sweat after hearing the news Nemesis was now able to break into safe rooms in the Resident Evil 3 remake. The news turned out to be untrue, thankfully, but other video games are not so reserved. Unsafe rooms, as I like to call them, have slowly emerged throughout the years. Illusions manifest themselves as psychological torments in Death Stranding’s private rooms. Doom Eternal’s hub area, being the most recent example, suffers an unexpected attack at one point during the story. “This stronghold will now serve as your prison,” speaks the voice of Khan Maykr, now infiltrated into your navigation system. Demons quickly reveal themselves to be lurking in the shadows, ready to attack.

Doom Eternal’s safe room goes from this…

To this.

These moments can leave a long-lasting impression on players, but timing is everything when it comes to surprising them. Warhammer: End Times – Vermintide’s The Red Moon Inn was created as an interactive space in which players could spend time in-between missions. Over time, the inn became a community hub, and studio Fatshark added special events and interactive elements to capitalise on this.

Fatshark unexpectedly threw all that out of the window via a free DLC mission in which the hub is overrun by Skaven. “We had a door to the cellar from the launch of Vermintide, and the community speculated about what was behind it,” producer Mrten Stormdal tells me over email. “We wanted to create an element of surprise, and the players’ interest made it more fun for us as developers to come up with the story.”

This sudden outburst had a positive reception from the community, which Stormdal remembers fondly. “Watching streamers playing through it for the first time was priceless, they never knew what hit them. This is probably partly because it took so long before we did it. It needs to be introduced very carefully, and very scarcely, since it is supposed to be a safe room first and foremost.”

Videocult co-creator and composer James Therrien argues for and against adding these events into safe rooms, both from a developer and player perspective, based upon the news around Nemesis allegedly infiltrating them. “For me, it depends on the game’s intention. For a dynamic, unfair game like Rain World I believe it could fit well if done smartly, as with horror games where an encroachment of the in-game narrative into the ‘safe space’ of the UI can be used for solid and terrifying dramatic effect,” he explains.

“But that’s me speaking as a creator, enthusiastic to use and subvert whatever tools are available [for] me to convey emotion and narrative to my audience. As a player, I would absolutely throw my controller and complain on Twitter if I had just completed some long game passage and then died unexpectedly, when my heretofore established ‘safe space’ suddenly isn’t and I have to start the section all over again!”

In the early iterations of Rain World, a survival game in which you play a nomadic slugcat who must hunt enough food to survive, hibernation dens were planned on being fewer in numbers and larger in size, leading players to make them their home for some time, bringing supplies and resources. But as the world grew bigger, the idea of counting with just a few central safe nodes became impractical. You can still store food and items in the final dens, but it’s more of a hidden mechanic than an overt one.

If you end up hibernating while lacking the proper amount of resources, however, the process will carry on as usual, but not without consequences. You are unable to save your game until you rest in a new shelter with enough food, and the slugcat will look thinner and weigh less during the so-called starvation mode. Midway through development, the studio had the idea of letting creatures invade these dens, forcing the player to find a new one.

“We allowed for that behavior to take place in the game’s architecture, but then in testing it became a nightmare, they liked the dens too much!” Therrien says. “Eventually we had to hack it a number of ways to prevent hostile creatures from entering dens, as often the game would save that state and then a player’s save file might be ruined by them waking up with a hungry lizard… permanently! Even the layers of hacks we put in are not always successful, and a player will have to deal with an irate scavenger or lizard roommate. But it’s worth it because players can also intentionally hibernate with tamed or befriended creatures, which adds so much to the game.”

Rain World.

Silent Hill 4’s Room 302 isn’t the only famous unsafe room. The mansion in Fatal Frame 3: The Tormented also serves as a shelter for most of your time in the game, since it’s only when you dream that ethereal beings manifest themselves in the Manor of Sleep. But over time that protection begins to fall apart as paranormal presences bleed into reality. Looking over your shoulder becomes mandatory.

Fatal Frame 3: The Tormented.

Another known example is the Back Hall from Amnesia: The Dark Descent. After escaping the archive tunnels and witnessing first hand some of the horrors that await Daniel in the story, you find yourself in a big, surprisingly illuminated room. There’s an eerie fountain in its centre that doesn’t give much confidence, but it’s the soothing music (the track is fittingly called ‘Safe Ambient’) and the sudden change of environment that provide a feeling that wasn’t in any of the rooms before it.

Such feeling is later swept away by the presence of The Shadow, an invisible enemy who is constantly chasing Daniel around the manor and its whereabouts. The water in the fountain turns red and organic residue invades the hall completely. Another safe space mutates into anything but.

“A core element of the game is being hunted by this vast horror that destroys everything in its past,” creative director and Frictional Games co-founder Thomas Grip tells me. “So we wanted to make sure the environments had this sense of changing as this threat grew. Players were unlikely to revisit many of the levels, so the hub levels felt like the right place to do this.

“We didn’t want players to become too used to the environments, as that kills that sense of uncertainty you want in a horror game. You get good horror when people look around and don’t know what they might find. If players feel their surroundings are very stable and familiar, you won’t have that. So, the trick is to always keep changing.”

Amnesia: The Dark Descent

Looking back, Silent Hill 4’s use of room 302 as the only recurrent save point was a gamble in terms of player exhaustion. “At the time, I didn’t intend to put save points outside the room,” Murakoshi continues. “However, it’s insanely inconceivable in recent games. 2004 was different from the current game situation. [Taking it into consideration], I think it was not balanced, but for me the difficulty before returning to the save point was not so high.” He adds that in today’s context, Silent Hill 4 would need to be more kind towards the player, but most of the choices made back in the early 2000s would remain, such as expressing a normal daily life on the outside as much as possible, granting the illusion that one day you might resume your routine with the others.

This included the neighbors occasionally appearing in the door’s fisheye, along with everything you could see from the room’s window. (Usuda based the window on Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window.) I also asked Murakoshi if the shifting house from Kojima Productions’ horror tease P.T. could be considered a safe room, which he immediately denied, recalling the initial sense of shelter in room 302: “That house is not safe. It doesn’t have any elements to give you a sense of security.”

Gloomwood’s developer Dillon Rogers has been documenting these spaces on Twitter for almost two years now, and argues disrupting a safe room doesn’t involve just timing, but also the consideration of what comes next, based on the effect it has on the player. Knowing that a safe room no longer holds its initial purpose can be good tension in its own right, but periods of time dedicated to allowing players to let down their guard are equally important to prevent exhaustion.

Room 302. Silent Hill 4: The Room. (Team Silent, 2004) pic.twitter.com/1OLZTPUEiX

— The Safe Room (@TheSaferooms) May 9, 2018

In his game, phonographs serve as the typewriter equivalent, and players can tell when one is nearby because the devices play music. Depending on the difficulty, wax cylinders also need to be used to save their current progress. As of now, Rogers doesn’t want to reveal if the game ever disrupts its rules, which is probably for the better. “You have to be quite careful about breaking the sanctity of the safe room as once that bell has been rung, you can’t unring it,” he tells me.

The first memory he has about a traditional safe room being broken comes from the original Resident Evil 2. There’s one moment in the utility building behind the police station where two zombies attack during one of the series’ iconic door opening sequences, which were only supposed to be a stylish way of presenting loading screen transitions between rooms up to that point.

“I don’t think that moment would have worked as well if the original Resident Evil hadn’t built up a full game’s worth of expectations,” Rogers says. “The player entered the sequel knowing the original game always assumed the door sequences and safe rooms were off-limits, and when the game broke both rules at once – it was frightening.”

Now that’s a contrasting expression.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/04/inside-gamings-least-safe-safe-rooms-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=inside-gamings-least-safe-safe-rooms-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

[smoothshift]

The purchase of a new (to me) supercharged 2013 Subaru BRZ inspired me to write a little bit about my overall experience with cars. Let me know what you think. via /r/cars

The purchase of a new (to me) supercharged 2013 Subaru BRZ inspired me to write a little bit about my overall experience with cars. Let me know what you think.

A summary for those that don't care for the details: I got a new car that i'm pretty excited about. Images of the car and my dog Missy can be found here.

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"Why Do You Care About Cars?"

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To be honest, I never really got the point of cars besides their basic purpose: transportation from point A to point B. There were a lot of different options, and some people cared a lot about them; other than that, they seemed to be one of those life chores, something you had to deal with because of the realities of life. A necessary evil, a byproduct of the current scale of humanity that necessitated that we burn fossil fuels so that we could transverse great distances and expand the areas that we could inhabit on Earth. At some point, I knew it was something that would take up a lot of my money, and I hoped to get something that would last me for a long time without any headaches.

Sometimes, life-changing events occur to us or around us without any hint as to their significance. Think back to your life: I bet that there’s a particular set of moments that you can point to, and say, “If things had gone differently right there, my entire life could have turned out differently”. In hindsight, the lack of pomp and splendor for that moment seems to almost be an insult. Shouldn’t something that has this much impact on our lives be somehow significant? As it turns out, many times, these events appear just like any other; another among the myriad set of events in our lives that eventually blend into hazy memories and perhaps moments of nostalgia on a lazy afternoon.

For me, one of those moments was while browsing YouTube, as one catches themselves doing when procrastinating from the work they were actually supposed to be doing at the time. It was a video by content creator /u/SavageGeese , a name that initially drew me in because I had known from childhood experience that geese were some of the most spiteful and vicious creatures on this planet. This video was 45 minutes long, and started off with a series of beautiful montages that highlighted an eye-catching car: the Lexus LC500.

As Mr. Geese's somber voice-over begins with the melodic yet haunting piano accompaniment, we can’t help but look along with him in amazement at the lines of this vehicle and the way the sun plays off of them, guiding our vision across the striking silhouette. The unique taillight design, the look of the wheels, the signature Lexus grille leading way to the “checkmark” headlights, the vents. The overall impression of all this is: wow. Someone spent a LOT of time designing this vehicle to have us experience precisely those set of events in that order so that our breath catches in our throat and you can’t help but turn your head to look at it if you ever see it out on the road.

Wow, indeed.

Guided along by Mr. Geese's dry and sometimes macabre sense of humor, our attention is guided to the interior. I’ll let him explain, since he does a much better job of putting it into words than I can. If you can, give the whole video a watch; I don’t think it’ll really be a challenge since the opening montage alone makes it worth your time.

As I marveled at the interior quality, the engine, and all the sheer work that went into this vehicle, I realized that this level of quality could only be the result of some sort of passion and vision. There was a connection that this evoked in someone, somehow, and it resulted in an engineering accomplishment so marvelous, that I couldn’t help but look alongside with Mr. Geese in amazement.

Wow.

With this new perspective, I started looking at the cars around me in a different way. My 2-hour daily commute became a scavenger hunt as I started noticing characteristics of different kinds of cars. Some cars were low to the ground and had a set of characteristics that they carried around them; lots of busy work, vents, and typically loud exhaust noises, with the especially flamboyant ones sporting large wings. Others were higher above the ground and were designed to ferry a full family in as much comfort as possible. Still others strived for performance in the sedan segment. A BMW here, an Audi there, and sometimes even the exotics like Ferrari or Lamborghini. There were hatchbacks. Coupes. Wagons. Crossovers. Minivans. SUVs. Shooting brakes!? What the hell does that even mean??

In the midst of this whirlwind of knowledge was my next life changing experience, this time with a bit more spectacle. While making idle conversation with a coworker of mine (let's call him Kevin), I mentioned that I was researching cars and was getting interested in them. I immediately saw a glint in Kevin's eye as he become more interested in the conversation. It turned out that he had a type of car that to some, personified power: the Ford Mustang GT.

Perhaps as American a symbol as any, this machine came with an incredible 435 horsepower at its disposal. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what sort of engineering challenges had to be overcome to put up numbers that impressive, never mind the economics of offering all of this in a budget that was reachable by many; but the basic gist of it was that this was a car that was meant to get you point from Point A to Point B with…let’s say, a bit more speed and urgency than the average Camry or Accord.

As I gazed upon Kevin’s pride and joy, I noticed some of the modifications he had made to his vehicle. It was lowered, and the tires were peeking out from the fenders, as if they could barely be contained. It had more power from a tune-up and an aftermarket exhaust. The culminating effect was a menacing, powerful beast of a machine. This thing had presence. Look in your rear view mirror and see the signature triple-row headlights, prancing pony and grill, and you got the hell out of its way.

Kevin allowed me to marvel as he started the vehicle, and I heard the first audible clues to its strength and purpose as its V8 engine roared to life. As the exhaust note settled into a comfortable low rumble, I sunk down into the leather seats that were much lower to the ground than my CX-5. The overall effect was impressive. After all, this machine had quite a bit of reputation to live up to, and so far, I wasn’t disappointed. As we exited the parking garage and boarded the on-ramp, a smirk grew on my coworker’s face. He looked at me and asked if I was ready.

In hindsight, I think the answer really was “no”. Mike Tyson once famously claimed that everyone has a plan until they got punched in the face. Barely had I finished nodding when my coworker opened up the throttle and let me know what exactly was lurking beneath his feet.

Head still on my way up to indicate “yes”, I was slammed back into my seat. 435 horsepower roared to life as the V8 “Coyote” engine propelled me, Kevin, his maniacal ear-to-ear grin, and 3,800 pounds of metal into a deserted wide open stretch of road. The engine snarled as it began working its way up to its 7,500 RPM redline, gaining speed with every passing fraction of a second. Colors started becoming blurs in the edges of my vision. The sound was all consuming, the engine noise seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. I distinctly remembered feeling as if this tremendous, vicious sound was emanating from the center of my chest. As we continued to gain speed, the engine kept building power and the resulting baritone increased alongside with it, before Kevin slammed it into next gear and the experience was begun all anew.

With every passing second, the engine egged us on to rev it higher and higher as it let out a bellow of triumph should anyone in its way be confused: here was POWER. All in all we were well past legal limits within maybe 5 seconds; my sense of time was skewed and it was hard to tell . As we slowed down to normal speeds and reality slowly crept in, I realized that the surge of adrenaline was still coursing through my body and the sounds still reverberating in my ears.

And then Kevin asked me if I wanted to give it a try. As I nervously got into the driver's seat, I couldn't help but think in amazement: underneath my right foot was, what must seem to our ancestors, an unfathomable amount of power. Perhaps even godly. But I was to be its master. Who in their right mind would ever say no?

While this may not have been the wisest decision for someone who was soon to be a father, I can confidently say that I have not ever regretted it. As I got behind the wheel and eased the car onto the streets, I could feel it rearing to go, with accompanying engine and exhaust noises to boot. Perhaps the prancing pony was more than just a pretty picture. As I again experienced the glorious V8 engine, gripping the steering wheel tight, with the sound growing gradually, an uncontrollable grin started spreading across my face to match. At some point, a primal, maniacal yell made its way out of me, and I demanded that this machine show me what it was made of. And boy, was it happy to do so.

As we eased back into the garage that day, I realized that for all my theoretical knowledge of cars, there was something I had missed out on: fun. This car was able to go fast from point A to B not because of need, but for joy and pleasure. At the same time, this thing was, to borrow Mr. Goose's phrasing, a certified license-killer. I knew that I did not have the strength of will to not bow in to what both the car and I wanted; wide open throttle, engine roaring, and the world going by in a blur.

That and I needed new pants.

It was at that point that I had a profound realization: here I was, depending on something for my everyday survival and well-being, and I had no idea how it worked. No idea what really made it tick. No idea what made it happy or what made it sad. No idea what to do in case of an emergency. It didn’t seem acceptable that something so fundamental to my everyday life not get the attention that it deserved.

And so, with renewed determination, I told my self that this would not be the case anymore. I would do everything in my power to understand cars. For all the drawbacks and criticisms that the internet has received, it has still created an absolute wealth of information that we are free to peruse. You want to believe the Earth is flat? There are websites that will support that. You want to learn more about cars? Boy, you better believe there are websites for that. So I poured over the online repositories dedicated to teaching those that were interested: how do we use gasoline? How does it go from an inorganic compound, to detonation, and eventually useful power? What’s the difference between diesel and petroleum? What are the different kinds of engines, and what did they do the characteristics of the car? What were their advantages and disadvantages? How does this power from the engine get sent to the wheels? How do we we brake the car? What are brake pads? Brembos? 6-piston 4-piston calipers? What about heating and cooling? What is a limited-slip differential and how does it help us? On and on my questions went, and the internet responded in kind.

So much to learn!

And as I learned, I began to appreciate these cars for what they were: engineering feats of accomplishment. From the Dodge Demon to the Honda Fit, there was a car designed to make different portions of the population happy, and they did this extremely well. They had to; it was a business after all. But a beautiful byproduct of this business need is a result of a bunch of people’s passions. A combination of metal, bolts, gears, and hard work together allowed us to do what I had realized from day 1: transport us from point A to point B. It was just that, as with many other things in life, there was a lot more to it than that.

This journey of mine culminated in a growing sense of wonder at all the different types of cars around me and all that they could accomplish. This wonder soon turned into obsession. I wanted to be a part of this world. I wanted to learn to drive this machine properly, to communicate with it through the steering wheel and pedals make it bow down to my will. My likes and wants grew along my newfound knowledge of the car world. I appreciated the efficiency, curves, and lines from famed Japanese automakers, Honda and Toyota (and their corresponding luxury brands, Acura and Lexus). I marveled at the visual treats that were the Italian exotic carmakers of Ferrari and Lamborghini. The sheer strength and attitude of the American muscle cars like Dodge and Ford. The finesse and performance of the British legends like McLaren and Lotus.

At the same time, I appreciated cars that were a bit more “sleeper”; those that appeared to be normal at first glance, but could surprise you with what they were capable of, leaving you with a sense of confusion and wonder. The inklings of a dream slowly began to form in my mind: I wanted a car that embodied the best of all of these worlds. Yes, ALL of them. And though that may seem the wish of any car enthusiast, my recent experiences had shown me that with the right attitude and determination, this was absolutely possible.

“Luck favors those that are prepared” goes another famous phrase. I've always had a habit of hanging on to these phrases that wouldn't be out of place on a motivational poster in front of some picture of a waterfall or something. I’ve tried to learn from the wisdom of those that came before me, as they must have gone through many of the same experiences that I have, albeit in their own ways. As it turns out, with a little dash of luck, my dream was about to come true.

I was eager to begin to experience a proper sports car for myself and began moving through volumes of classifieds and customized searches from multiple online websites. At times it was a frenzied search to find where the answer to my desires lay. At other times it was a lazy trawl through already visited websites to see if anything new had surfaced. Although it waxed and waned, my desire for a proper car that would allow me to enjoy driving did not subside.

One of those late night searches resulted in a car that was innocuously listed on sale on Craigslist; a customized Subaru BRZ in the Japanese carmaker’s World Rally Championship Blue. It was a car that was designed for driving enthusiasts in mind; if you wanted to get comfortably from point A to point B, there were many other options for you. However, this was not it.

To those that aimed to really meld with a machine, explore its capabilities, and enjoy the driving experience, the Subaru BRZ and Toyota twin Scion FR-S were a beacon of hope as they offered this package with an affordable price tag. Furthermore, this particular example was visually appealing, as its striking blue finish glimmered in the sunlight. The coupe profile and long flowing lines, combined with its low height, gave it an eye-catching look. Here was something that anyone, car enthusiast or not, could look at and enjoy. It was from a reputable carmaker to boot, so reliability and an active after-market was available for parts and future modifications.

However, those that look closer at the exhaust tips and vented brake rotors will recognize that this was a car that was more than just its looks. It was one capable of speed, all while handling itself in a respectable fashion. Encourage the engine to rev past its resting state, and you could hear its supercharger begin to spool and whine. This was in no way a normal engine sound, and as it fed more air to the engine to coax some more power out of it, it made sure that everyone around it knew that as well.

I knew right away that this car was something that would be special for me. I spent many long hours making sure that everything was installed properly, and that there wouldn’t be any issues. At long last the title was signed, and I parted with a significant portion of my finances, something that I had worked for over a year to gather, to finally begin to experience the joy of driving for myself.

And thus begins Project Gemini. An idea that took its root while I was procrastinating from my actual work many days ago. It's named after a set of twins from Roman mythology; similar to the duality and differences in personality Castor and Pollux, I wanted a machine that was capable of smoothly getting me from point A to point B when I wanted. The catch was, it also had to be agile and handle itself in a composed yet eager manner when I wanted. Afterall, who knew what my mood would demand at that time?

There was a certain satisfaction in knowing how much power was at my disposal; that if I wanted, I could easily drop a gear or two, and overtake anyone in front of me, leaving them with the supercharger whine and a shimmering blue glint. I wouldn’t do this all the time, of course; just every now and then.

At least that’s the theory.

Many times throughout my journey, sometimes in curiosity, sometimes in confusion, friends and family would ask me, “Why do you like cars so much now? Why do you spend so much time on them?” And I never really had a good answer. How can I explain what I had learned over the past several months in a way that they could easily understand? How could I show them how amazing these creations were, and how marvelous the end result?

As I struggled to come up with an answer for them, I realized that sometimes these things were best learned through practical experience. Sometimes words do not have the power to convey what it is exactly that captivates us about a certain element, the hidden beauty, and the set of intangibles that when all combined, just hold on to our interest and refuse to let go.

And yet, we try. Perhaps with as much success as Sisyphus, another figure of Greek mythology who was cursed to roll a massive boulder up a hill, only to have it roll back down, for eternity. Greek/Roman mythology is fascinating and deserves another essay all on its own.

But like Sisyphus, even if our attempts are futile, we still try. And perhaps that is the real lesson that I have learned along the way.

Although my passion was kindled with something as innocuous as cars, take another good hard look at the world around you. Look at your smart phone and marvel at its ability to connect you to the internet from the comfort of your bed (or toilet). Look at the building that you’re perhaps working in and give some thought to the amount of effort that went into its creation, to ensure that it was built up-to-code (hopefully) and allow you to work safely. How about the imaging capability of the screen that you may be reading this from? All around us is a world that is a testament to our efforts, all the good and the bad. I hope to never lose my sense of wonder and curiosity, and look forward to seeing what else the world has to offer.

I began writing this as an attempt to look back and have a tangible answer as to why I enjoyed cars. The simple answer is that they check a lot of boxes for me that captures my interest, and amaze me with what they are capable of. I do not know if I will ever find a way to succinctly answer; but in the meantime, this long-winded one will have to do.

Thank you for taking the time to walk through this journey with me. I hope that it inspires at least one of you to go out and kindle your own passion, and to make it a reality. Until then, I will look forward to all that Project Gemini has to offer me as I look on to the new stretch of road coming up ahead.

I will wrap up with another one of my favorite quotes, this time from the legendary Robert Frost: “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference”.

Cheers, Project_Gemini

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