#its part of the experience of reading my tags. to see my stream of consciousness.

[made-nondescript]

i have some mutuals that I'm so so glad are on tumblr and not (just) twitter bc twitter does NOT have adequate space to go absolutely fucking insane about some of their art. you don't understand twitter. they drew a poster for a minecraft youtuber's fictional build. and SOMEONE has to tell them how sick it is!!!!!!!! WHAT IF NO ONE DOES!!!!

[thesarcasticside]

Anything-$00000DDD

Summary

He could have been anything. When he looked inside his own mind, he dug through darkness. Memories like ashes, the particles filling his lungs were all that were familiar to him—and those only felt like nothing. No fragments, just a fine powder.

Janus is a cyborg who works for the Dragon Witch, a criminal mastermind who runs a company that designs cybernetics.

He meets Remus, a self-taught biomedical engineer, and a variety of other robotic and alien characters, all of whom are trying to convince him that he is more than just a cybernetic puppet.

But who is “Dee” if not an empty husk created only to be controlled?

General warnings

Psychological horror, body horror, cybernetics, missing limbs, artificial limbs, Non-consensual forced medical treatment, physical abuse, blood, violence, guns, mind control, permanent amnesia, manipulation, emotional abuse, gaslighting, nightmares, streams of consciousness, unreliable narration. Content that resembles depersonalization, derealization, or dissociation

More notes, links, and chapter text under the cut

AO3 Anything, AO3 series, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18

This is my story for the 2021 Storytime! Big Bang! @ts-storytime Thank you to @ben-phantomhive-trash, who is the artist I was partnered with for the event! They created this fantastic art!!!! I love it so much I can't even.

Thank you to PunkRock for helping me figure out the shorts characters and other plot things. Also thank you to AryaSkywalker, Thembo, and Carrotflowerking17 and the Big Bang 2021 discord for additional help!!!!

This fic is an alternative entry point to my (In Other Worlds) Series. This fic happens at the same time roughly as Millennia, a companion novel. You can read this fic and then check out the rest of the series, or check out the series and then read this.

Also, I don't use Janus's actual name throughout the fic for thematic and narrative reasons. You'll see. I hope that does not put you off too much. Consider it part of the angst.

Clarification of general warnings and pairings, minor spoilers

I added the tag unreliable narrator, but I will clarify that the narrator is not actively lying to the audience. This tag relates to Janus's memory issues and the uncertainty resulting from that. tbh I would not worry too much about the events being untrue, and more be concerned about these being Janus's imperfect recollection of events.

I think this fic is a bit more violent than Millennia at times, hence I added the archive warning for violence. I still feel like a teen would be fine reading this, so I am keeping the rating Teen and Up. This fic focuses the most on what I dub psychological horror (angst, mind control, memory issues, consciousness, nightmares, etc.). I also tagged this story with disassociation, and content in this fic may resemble derealization and depersonalization.

If you think I should warn/rate this fic differently, I am happy to hear feedback and reconsider.

I tagged this as Remus/Janus, but like, ya gotta squint. Mostly banter and being soft. I love romance, but I have a hard time writing it. Could be seen as platonic too.

HINT 1: KEY.

HINT 2: "kind of" not "kinda"

CHAPTER START

NAME J. D. Dedrick ID 25:35--25:44 / 51:09 ALIENRACE Dūcesnaca OCCUPATION Robotics Researcher

Chapter Warnings cybernetics, missing/artificial limbs (eye, legs), forced medical treatment/experimentation, amnesia, depersonalization/derealization/dissociation, unreliable narration, psychological horror, swearing Chapter Characters Janus, the Dragon Witch, Virgil (not by name)

He could have been anything. When he looked inside his own mind, he dug through darkness. Memories like ashes, the particles filling his lungs were all that were familiar to him—and those only felt like nothing. No fragments, just a fine powder.

He woke up to yellow in his eyes, stinging and unfocused. Lights beyond the veil flickered. He saw a figure move; he looked small. After a brief glance into the world, he began to drown. He threw everything into the yellow encasement, and after an agonizing struggle, the rush of acceleration threw him to the ground.

When the air touched his face, black fireworks exploded in his hazy vision, and the first memory he had was gone.

He woke up again, like a corpse left in the stale air for vultures: beaks plucking out his skin piece by piece. His vision blurry and halved, he stared up at the birds breaking his body into bits.

Reports say he was involved in a huge space crash. DRACANA has generously sponsored his artificiality.

That sounded like a lie. That sort of blatant untruth where there was no connection to reality tied to it. Everything his senses told him felt unreal, everything except the pain that grounded him like a shot duck.

Whispers like gossip broke into his mind between droughts of consciousness. His senses were pieced together and broken apart, like pieces of clay in a kiln shattering. Memories of vultures and lab coats glued together by agony floated through space until eventually he was awake.

Probably just one of her business rivals

Dei’dra—he knew her name—loomed over him, to his right. He could see nothing to his left. The light stung, he squinted and blinked his eye. He could feel nothing on the left side of his face. Dei’dra smiled at him.

“Wake up, dollface. Didn’t think you’d make it, but you pulled through.”

He did not know where he was. He did not know who he was. All he knew was that this woman was Dei’dra, the Dragon Witch, and he hated her.

“Well, he seems to be doing well. Might as well put him under and move onto the next stage.”

He lived out his days creating sand sculptures in his mind. He saw himself running in place, downloading skills and targets and concepts. The sand would blow away each day, leaving him with nothing to remember them by.

Between bouts of black unconsciousness, he saw grey, and white, and pale pink, brown, and blue. Abstract shapes morphing into creatures that prodded at him. Cold metal seething, machines twisting his body together like crochet. He gave nonsense names for some, not even names consisting of words, just pure thoughts.

Slowly, he lost sight of the sand in his brain, yet the grains still dripped from his ears when he shook his head. He became a part of reality. Or perhaps he became part of a hellish dream.

Darkness huddled in the damp sides of his eyes, danger snapping at his bruised joints and soles. Deep inside his chest, his heart damned, words mixed with intuitive instincts, daring his body to live beyond the yellow veil.

Stage One of Project $DEE has been completed.

$DEE was not his name. It was what he was called. One of the words that would echo in his brain. Dee. Dee. Dee. Like a rhythm, like the beeping machines. Like the ringing of the heart monitor. It was embedded in his ears. Baby words jumping around, forming pictures, babbling him into nothing.

Dee, his brain still a desert, started to make better sense of this reality he lived in. He could control his body sometimes. He could move his arms. Or what was left of his limbs. Or what they had lent him.

The second picture in his brain, the one after the yellow veil: it was the artificial lights on Lab C’s ceiling. Grey illuminated by white, he stared up at the square tiles and textured glass, like undulating waves of melted sand.

With how long he was locked in place staring up at this picture, he memorized it. He could close his eyes at any moment and picture it in its exact detail again.

“Time to get up, Doll-face. It’s time for your first mission.”

He saw Dei’dra’s face again. He felt his restraints loosen and break away.

His first mission was not all that glorious. He was lanky, unused to moving in his body. He was a wall of meat. Disposable. He followed a trail like a zombie. He barely spoke to the team he was placed in. He remembered their orders regarding him.

“He’s still pretty out of it. Give him some good experience, but we’d like to keep working on him so bring him back in one piece.”

Dee felt like a puppet, simply put. Some machine inside him aimed his cannons and lasers. He stood in place, shooting at targets. He was guided by an invisible leash by the team he was assigned to. He saw sepia shapes. Blurs of bodies. All he could feel was the emotions in his gut telling him, repeatedly:

Youaregoingtodieyouaregoingtodieyouaregoingtodieagainyouaregoingtodiestoppleasestoppleaseyouaregoingtodiestopstopstopstopstop.

He was kept suspended in place while his body completed the mission. And then he was back in Lab C, mind clearer.

He was thinking in sentences now. He could monologue, like any great villain. That is what he had become, hadn’t he? Why a villain? Where had he learned that word? The more he sifted through the sand, the more words he could find he no longer remembered learning. They were just there, connected to nothing. No memory. No past life.

He kept thinking these words. And then he decided that since his jaw was not glued shut, he would give speaking a try. Garbled and slurred at first, he kept talking as much as they let him.

They made him run between ceilings of grey. They made him speak between illuminated square tiles. He practiced lines of a script. Subterfuge settled in his brain like a mirage in the distance between the settled sand.

He could walk on the unsteady ground once again. He could see. He could hear. He could experience the world around him. He gazed up at the ceiling but was interrupted by a splotch of dark violet.

Another blot. Another vulture. He stood there out of the corner of his artificial eye.

“What are you waiting for? Get on with the tests.” His voice sharp, cutting through his tongue.

This was an unusual time of day for tests. To say it was a time of day was generous. It was more like he would be experimented on for hours upon hours and then suddenly they would stop. Nothing to do but bask in the nothingness it brought.

At this point, Dee thought that he was done with most of the tests. He had his limbs. He had an eye, which he opened wider to get a better look at the violet blotch. Something about the blotch was connected to something else in his brain, but he could not quite place it.

“Well, whatever it is, get on with it, it certainly could not have waited until morning.”

It shuffled closer to him. Less of a blotch now. He could make out shapes. He could recognize his face now if he saw him again.

Air escaped his lungs, and then he said again, asking, “Whatever might you need from me today, doctor?”

The blotch was shaking. “If you are just here to sight-see, I am going back to sleep.” His eyes weighed heavily on his face, eyelids falling through his willpower.

“Are you… okay?”

No, I am not ‘okay’. I am ‘$DEE.’

“Do I LOOK okay? Yeah sure, I am right as rain, having a grand old time—feeling peachy, even.” At this point, the words just spiraled off his tongue and through his teeth. The blotch made a sound, and Dee’s frustration grew, the pain of today’s tests ricocheting in his body.

“If you aren’t here to run another one of your little tests, then just get out. Go tell your superior, or better yet, go tell Dei’dra to go fuck herself and leave me alone.”

And he left him alone. He wondered vaguely what that was all about. He then fell asleep.

[sweetjekyll]

Writerly contemplation tag!

tagged by the lovely @j-pping; thank you for the tag!

this might end up being long so I’ll add a read more cut ☺️

2020

what was the most challenging part of writing this year?

I guess the most challenging part of writing this year was tuning out the real world. I’ve always used reading and writing as a form of coping and escapism from all the things that were troubling me. Unfortunately there were times when simply reading and writing weren’t helping me and I took so many breaks, postponed so many WIPs I was excited about... I ended up beating myself down for not being able to keep up with an expectation I had for myself and my writing. Considering 2020 was hell for everyone, I came to terms with myself that it cannot be always my fault, I can’t blame myself for not being able to do things I set my mind to do, sometimes there are obstacles that take time for you to cross.

I’m just going to quickly mention stressful anons and hopefully get a point across for all fan fictions writers. WE ARE NOT ROBOTS. WE ARE HUMAN. All of us write for many personal reasons, mine are that I just love writing things which I wish to read! Simple as that. What I wish for some rude people to understand is that the least you could do for us creators is be thankful and be kind to us, give feedback and constructive criticism, share our work. I don’t understand why you are scared of the reblog button. When I go through my notes and take a look at some blogs, they are empty. No one is paying us to contribute creatively to the fandom, you are enjoying our content for free while we put hard work and our free time into it, so why should we “hurry up”, “update faster” and “write more/this/that”? Please, remember that we are people too, and the toxicity some people spread on anonymous asks is just incredibly baffling and hurtful to me. If you, as a reader, believe that my request is nonsense and my words are too harsh, then perhaps you should reconsider how you’re viewing content creators before disagreeing without a valid reason.

what was the most enjoyable/rewarding part of writing this year?

The happiness that came from writing something which I enjoyed reading as well! I have been a writer for years on another platform until I had to take a long hiatus because of writer’s block and depression. For how cheesy this may sound, the most enjoyable and rewarding part of writing is in fact writing something that makes me happy even if I’m torturing my characters and traumatizing them. There is truly no point for me to write things that I don’t feel I am enjoying. As I have said other times before on the blog, I would much rather post something that makes me happy, than post something just to get notes from silent readers.

what piece has left the most impact on you and why?

Given the fact that I have not written a lot because of my constant mental health breaks (yes 2020 had me on rollercoaster mental breakdowns more often than usual), I have to say that Damaged is what really kept me entertained with myself and perhaps sane. It has been way too long since I’ve taken on something so creative as building an entire universe from just a dream, but it’s what reminded me why I love writing so much, it reignited my passion. With this story I really wanted to challenge myself to write something unique, something I’ve never done before with any other work... And I admit it’s quite difficult; the easiest part was taking inspiration from EXO’s lore, but the hardest was incorporating it in a universe and storyline completely different to the original concept. It’s something I’m set on finishing as a complete multi-chapter story no matter how long it takes.

what have you learned about yourself through the process of writing in the past year?

To be completely honest, I learned that I can push myself out of my comfort zone when writing, because every piece is a fictional world of its own, every character can be more than a copy and paste personality. What do I truly learn about myself if I don’t explore things I have not thought about before? I learned that I should not be afraid to write of things that I don’t know or fully understand, specifically about things that I didn’t post but tried for just for fun. It is a good way of finding out whether a certain subjects interests me or doesn’t. I love doing lots of research and gather information for the stories I’m writing, you get to learn about stuff you usually would never think about.

how has your writing changed in the past year? how have you grown?

Well, I don’t really have anything to compare my writing to except my older fan fictions for movies and tv shows. I guess I have changed quite a lot since 2018; my writing style has become more fluid, at least I think it has. I’m also able to write longer chapters without feeling as if I am dragging it out for the sake of the word count, yet now I have to literally stop myself from just writing too much! It pleases me, to be honest. I remember struggling to sometimes put ideas into words and balance narrative, dialogue and descriptions.

2021

ignoring your wips for a second, if you had all the time and energy in the world to write your magnum opus piece, what would it be about? why is that the dream story you’d write, all other things controlled for?

This can go back to Damaged, honestly! It’s something that I haven’t finished writing and it will be a long story. It’s the fan fiction which has gotten me out of a 2-year-long writer’s block with such strength, I feel truly attached to it. As I mentioned in one of my first answers for 2020, this is the WIP I want to focus on the most and be proud of it.

how do you want to grow in your writing this year?

I mentioned this is my first 2021 post after I took a short break, but one of my resolutions for this year is to work on self acceptance when it comes to my projects. (I’ll copy and paste what I wrote there so I don’t repeat myself with other words) One of my resolutions for 2021 is to write more, to not be afraid of beginning something and even if I end up setting the story aside, at least I will have gotten it out on (digital) paper. I punish myself way too much when I’m not able to finish something, and that is truly one of the worst things a content creators can go through, in my opinion. I have many drafted works that may or may never be published and I wish to appreciate them more instead of dwelling on the fact of what they could have been.

what’s one thing you’d wish to see in the fan-writing community this year?

I wish for more love and recognition of the amazing and talented writers that share their content with everyone on tumblr. We are a community, or at least we are supposed to be. I would absolutely love to see more readers actively interacting with writers, share ideas, share art inspired by what you read! As readers, you can contribute as well by sharing moodboards, song recommendations and/or playlists! You are more than welcome to join us in the community as writers too! 

As for myself, I have mentioned this towards last year but I still want to compile a list of all the writers I am currently following and read their works. I haven’t been in a good mindset to do that for a long time and I wish to get to know them. I’m a pretty shy person who struggles to start up a conversation, so I hope I get to make some friends on tumblr this year!

name one new thing you want to try doing in your writing this year.

I would like to make a list of aus and experiment with them for either one shots or some short series! I have so many creative ideas and thoughts but I always forget to take a note or maybe I’m doing something else and I end up getting caught up in a stream of consciousness, until I lose the initial spark. Also mentioned plenty of times, I would love to write for other groups, like nct, but for now I’ll focus on exo.

✨✨✨

anyway, that was it for my writerly contemplation tag!

I’m tagging a few fellow writers, but feel free to ignore for any reason! sorry if I forgot someone but feel free to do this even if I didn’t tag you!! @pororodks @velvetsehun @yeoldontknow @yeagerluvr @soos-goddess @shaalk @mooneylooney1 @dewbebe

[caffeinated-yearning]

Oh perhaps I got a wee bit carried away. Here’s some follow-up to the one that byte posted a bit ago, following Oliver’s side of things since he’s the Me One. Featuring a little of Byte and a little of the byte-verse Doctor Octavius. Tagging @werewolfpine because it’s a continuation of his fit and features a little of his S/I at the end (and also because I did do a little reformatting since the doc oop)

Word Count: ~2.2 k Warnings: violence, angsty narrative tone, probably difficult to read because it’s very stream of consciousness

- but he swung a metal bar at Byte’s head- “Ollie! Why are you doing this? Please, talk to me!”-

Doc Ock’s tentacles, in constant motion, seemed to slow behind him at this new information. Rippled and writhed with the horror of it. “...Nate?”

Oliver glared at this person that wore the costume of New York’s beloved vigilante; glowered at this person that wore Nathan’s face in the New York night; felt downright malevolent at having guessed this twist a hundred times prior and every time having filed it away as ludicrous because there was simply no way that fate would have woven Oliver into Nathan’s foe. He was furious, because he should have known it even if it had all seemed just a little too poetic for the universe to do. He didn’t want it to be possible, which was exactly why he had discredited each piece of evidence and chosen to believe the thin and frail excuses he’d been handed.

“Listen,” Spider-Byte raised his hands to his chest- pressing them to his heart only leaves an opening, “I can explain. I… I know what you’re thinking.” Writhing, agony-stricken, claws and tentacles that lashed with unspent energy away from him. “Or, I guess I don’t, I never do, but… Just-.”

A hideous rattling crunching ripping and tearing as Doc Ock pulled scaffold apart. Bitter and bitter and bitterer still. “Nathan..?” And how dare the vigilante be wearing the face of his best friend and how dare he tell Oliver that he was in the wrong and how dare he be right when Oliver had always had to be the right one before?!

How the HELL DARE HE?

“wAIT! Just-just listen to me!” And Nathan ran at Doc Ock; if Ock had his glasses still, perhaps he would see the desperation in that so-human face. A metal bar swung at Nathan’s head- get him away, get us away, get me away,- and Nathan caught it and and Nathan has had this sort of strength for who knows how long at this point. “Ollie! Why are you doing this? Please, talk to me!”

Oliver hated that perhaps worst of all; that Nate was Nathan was Spider-Byte, that he wanted to talk, that he called him by that stupid diminutive nick-name that Oliver loved because Ollie was a softer version of himself, a version that he didn’t let himself be, because he’d been taught for so long that softness was weakness. That Oliver was going to be better than most, and so he didn’t have time to be soft. Hated that Nathan had kept being Oliver’s friend despite every effort of Doc Ock to destroy Spider-Byte. He hated every blasted domino in the whole tower of his life that now came crashing down around him, and every little bread-crumb that now made perfect sense.

Oliver swiped at his eyes to clear the salt and water/dropped the metal beam still clasped in Byte’s arms/lashed out to knock Nathan off his feet in the span of three seconds. Turned tail and ran, down the streets, searching for the start of where his internal map made sense and where he could start to make his way back to his dungeon-like domain.

And tomorrow, Byte-who-is-Nathan will still be in class like he has been every other time that someone was causing a problem and the Spider had to step in, and Nathan has known who I am for months, and he still tries to save me.

-

“I think I’ve made a grave mistake.”

Doctor Octavius looked up after a moment’s pause. “Well, do you care to elaborate?”

“I… I think I’ve lost one of my dwindling few friends.”

“Well, that does sound grave.” Uncle Otto pushed his computer aside, turning to his student and nephew with one part easygoing authority figure and two parts sincerity. “From what little I’ve heard from you, you really don’t have many friends to spare, even at the best of times.”

“No.” He grit his teeth, held his breath, pressed his nails into his palms with the faint hope that they might break the skin and let him focus on something else. They didn’t, of course, because he had too strong an instinct against pain. Seconds that always seemed to pass too quickly while he struggled to say anything; “I just found out… That one of the people I considered a friend… Probably hasn’t thought of me as anything more than an enemy.” He shook his head; that wasn’t quite right. Nathan wasn’t… He wasn’t like that. “Or maybe I just… Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I made an enemy of my friend. I really am insufferable.”

“Have you spoken to this friend about this yet?”

“Not… As such.” He tried to forget that Oliver/Doc Ock/both of them/all of him had reacted so violently when the Spider had taken off its mask and revealed that the enemy of Doc Ock was the closest friend of Oliver, that both halves were the same thing, that in a world of horrible coincidences this was the worst of them all.

“Listen,” Nathan raised his hands to his chest, “I can explain. I…I know what you’re thinking. Or, I guess I don’t, I never do, but…Just–”

Tried to forget that he had tried to blot it out that he had tried to get rid of it that he had tried to make it go away.

Shook like a leaf in a tempest against the emotions that he had been crushing away for years and years that burst forth at the memory- but [Oliver/Doc Ock/he/they/all] swung a metal bar at [Spider-Byte/Nathan/his sworn enemy/his closest friend]’s head- “Ollie! Why are you doing this? Please, talk to me!”-

Otto nodded, eyes closed behind his tinted glasses. “Perhaps you ought to start with that, then.” He stopped, then added; “or rather, perhaps you should give it a little more time to settle before you do that. You don’t seem to have recovered altogether from the shock.”

Oliver gave a subtle tilt of his head. A half-nod that was all he could muster with his voice threatening to crack like glass in his throat and his body barely responding to any input from the central processor/brain. His mouth struck against incoherent shapes of half-words and syllables and desperate prayers to gods he did not believe in, and was entirely silent.

“Pull that chair over and set your backpack down. There’s no reason for you to stay standing this whole time. You don’t look like you’re in any state to leave, in any event.” It was only by a very slim recollection of sensibilities that Oliver remembered not to let his backpack fall from his shoulders with a heavy thud that even textbooks would not explain. To take it off, set it down. To turn to the chair and pull it over and set it up right and sit in it and make sure the desk was clear and set his glasses aside and then to set about the difficult task of crying in front of someone that was his superior, according to the law of school, according to the law of familial structure. Ugly, a little voice that sounded like a spider or a seraph whispered in the dark of his murky mind. How ugly it is, to cry. You are… weak and ugly, to cry. And it was, in part, calculated, like all things are- this to make him cry harder so that everything would be done with as soon as possible. It was, in part, that he didn’t have any more control over the voice that seemed to be him and not-him than he had over the actions of the people of New York, who thought that he was purely evil, who thought the world of his friend who he thought the world of and had tried to harm. “Wh-what if my-- s-sins are a-already too-o much to bear-?” he asked, in as low a voice as he could, despite the tears and the snot that were going to demand his jacket be washed tonight to prevent anyone seeing that and extrapolating anything with respect to the possibility of Oliver the iron-hearted having cried. “What if I- a-am conde-emned before I ever s-speak?”

“Then the worst case scenario is that you’ve lost a friend. And think how many more people there are; you’ll find other friends. They won’t be the same, but sometimes it can’t be helped. Sometimes you just have to accept that it’ll hurt for a long time, and that there was nothing you could do to change what already happened.” Otto put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder, despite the flinch that he felt even in the midst of that much of what was certainly a humiliating experience already. “But then, that’s the worst case scenario. The best case; want to guess what that will be?”

“I want to be-e a miserable herm-mit who lives in a grotto and n-ever sees the sun.”

“Then I’ll just tell you, since you’re being a miserable little hermit right now.  The best case scenario is that it was all a misunderstanding-.”

“Due to circumstance-es that I won’t g-o into, that’s not a po-osibility.”

“-Or else it will be worked out, like a couple of adults and friends ought to do. After the dust has settled, and you can talk about it without fits of hysterics.” The weight of Otto’s palm, the heat of it, the fact that Otto didn’t try to move or change the sensation at all, so that Oliver could focus on that, keep his attention on that; pull himself out of the bog by that little lifeline that had been extended. “The best case scenario is that everything goes back to normal, or as close as it can get, and your friendship doesn’t change.”

“You’re going to tell me that the most probable thing is… Something in between.” 

“That your friendship is significantly changed, and that you’ll have to both work on fixing it, or else let it fall apart.”

“Mm.” Oliver rolled his head to one side, his whole face salt-stained and puffy with the awful fact of having cried so much in so short a time. “Are you sure I can’t just change my name and live in a cave?”

“You could, but I’d hate to see my nephew go.” Otto lifted his hand, pulled it back toward himself. “So what did happen between you and Nathan?”

Oliver flinched.

“Really, you two sit side-by-side every day and you expect me to not notice when you choose to sit on the opposite side of the classroom?” Doctor Octavius tsk-ed twice. “You ought to realize that I do have eyes by now, even if I happen to wear these glasses often.”

-

| One text message from Ollie Ollie Oxen Free |

Nathan looked at the phone blankly. A week and a half of this... of avoiding each other in every conceivable way. He had just gotten to his apartment not ten minutes ago. A week and a half of seeing, occasionally, that bubble (Ollie is typing…) and watching it vanish without anything to show for it. A week and a half of Nathan being that bubble (Nathan is typing…) with nothing to show for it, until the time between Oliver’s little attempts at speaking became days apart, and Nathan’s also slowed, and he assumed that was the end of it.

And now there was an entire text message (!) from Oliver.

What the hell did he want?

‘Have you heard of the man who spent his whole life mining through a mountain range to make sure medical care would be accessible for his village? The trip around the mountains to get a doctor from the next town over took too long and as a result his wife died. In his grief, he cut a path through, so that no one else would have to die due to the length of the path that he had had to travel. I can’t remember his name, but I think that was pretty noble of him. How strange it must be, to have death be the motive for such a drastic change in the physical world? He literally moved mountains.’

Nathan read, and re-read, and tried to figure out just what the fuck this was supposed to mean, because he was tired after a long day of classes, and he still had homework, and there was a constant threat that someone, somewhere, would decide that breaking half the city was a fine way to spend a Wednesday afternoon.

But what the fuck was that supposed to mean? Obviously it meant something, because Oliver always hid his stupid feelings under layers of allegory and associative story-telling instead of being open and honest (or perhaps that was him being as open and honest as he knew how, and if that was the case he needed to learn that sometimes saying what you mean is better than metaphors).

‘I hadn’t heard of that.’ Nathan really tried to say something more, but found that no words came. Well. At least this was almost a dialogue.

‘Do you think Doc Ock will show up in the near future? He’s been quiet for a while I think.’

And if Nathan had never heard a warning before he’d still have understood that this was one.

Spider-Byte stepped out of the window, swinging through the city without a clue as to where he had to go, but knowing he had to go somewhere soon.

[eloarei]

1, 2, 3, 7, 9, 13, 17, 23 (some of these are random and some aren't)

Thanks for the many questions, Socks! Sorry I didn’t answer them earlier; I decided answering asks on mobile sucks.  ALSO, this is going to be super long haha sorry.  1.  Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?       Well, my most current project is one I just started brainstorming. It’s (hopefully gonna be) a Fallout 3 series, with my latest fic being the starting point. LW/Fawkes is a ship I liked immediately when I played the series some years ago, but I never got around to writing for it, probably in part because there’s already a super good longfic about them, and I just didn’t think there was much else I could say. But my LW is different from Choco’s LW, and lately I wanted to start something self-indulgent. Although I have enough ideas for this to maybe be a single 30k fic, I’m choosing to do a series of shortfics instead, so that I’m not burdening myself with another long project. Fic series are great in that way, because it’s basically complete with every new fic.       On top of that, I have... probably 3 other things I want to make significant progress on this year. First is another Fallout fic: Same Heart. I’ve posted 8 chapters already and have almost 2 more done, but due to the slow-build nature of it (and my tagging) I don’t expect to have almost any readers until at least chapter 10 (when the ship characters finally meet). I’d like to at least get that far this year.       A project I’d love to finish by fall is the unreleased “The Wilderness”, a Venom zombie AU that I started for NaNoWriMo 2 years ago. It’s about 55% written, and my goal is to have as much of it done as possible before the sequel movie comes out. If it’s not done by then, I still plan to post whatever I have.       And lastly-ish, my novel... thing. Rogue. I’m in the process of editing it, although I’ve taken kind of a break lately. And as soon as I’m done with the edits and can get a couple of people to read it (just so they can tell me if certain parts are stupid and need changed) I plan to start the next book in the series... which will probably end up being book #1, actually, if I do them modern-era chronologically. It’s... gonna be a process. ^^;  2.  Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project.       In my upcoming FO3 fic series, I’m honestly just kind of weirdly looking forward to... how do I put this? Exploring my own vaguely-traumatic experiences through fic. I’ll always do a happy ending, if possible, but before we get there I really want to run these two through the ringer of... being given something they were led to believe was impossible, being judged for it, having it taken away, and then being told “well maybe it’s for the best”.       When it comes to future projects, I guess I’m really excited about writing the new Rogue book. “Reaper”, I guess, is its unimaginative working title. I’m anxious about it, because I thought Rogue had some really deeply emotional scenes, and I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to accomplish that as well with this new one, simply because the characters don’t have the same level of desperation about each other. I need to figure out what’s unique about their dynamic and push that. I guess I’m looking forward to the challenge.  3.  What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)       Hmm gosh. Technically there’s a scene in the later chapters of Mobius that I already wrote, but it wouldn’t take place until probably chapter 3 or later, and I just lost all steam on that fic, sadly. But every time I poke through my notes I make myself cry reading it. It’s a scene where one character knows it’s going to be the last time he sees the person he loves most, and he can’t explain his pain to anyone. I really just want to get there so I can see if it makes other people cry like babies haha.       But on a completely unrelated note, there’s also this ZADR fic I started writing in like 2009, and I absolutely didn’t want to do the work to get to the fun middle scenes, but basically it was an AU where young adult Dib went to live/work in the thriving multi-species space community, where he’s... I dunno, studying alien biology I think?, and he ends up with Zim as a roommate. The scenes I really wanted to write were about the two of them getting into like a bar fight with some tough types, and Zim gets his pak ripped off/damaged in the process, and Dib has to sort of take care of him through a horrible fever. But then it turns out that the pak was not a life-support system like they thought, but actually a growth inhibitor so they (the people in charge of the Irkens) could choose who became the Tallest (the leaders). (And also it hindered reproduction, etc.) So basically the two of them accidentally start to unravel a galactic conspiracy which also involves corruption in the Earth government, etc, and Zim gets taller but spoiler alert, he still doesn’t get tall enough to challenge the Tallest lol. Sadly, I doubt I’ll ever actually write that fic. Sounds like too much effort lol.  7.  What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?       That’s such a hard question. Ummm. How do I put any of that into words? ...I think one of the things about my writing is that a lot of the time nothing really happens in a scene, and the story mostly focuses on a character thinking. Like, enough happens so there’s something for them to think about, but I think I tend to put a lot of emphasis on POV character’s thoughts, to the point of sometimes seeming stream-of-consciousness. I’ve been told that this makes my stories feel alive though? So I think it appeals to some people, though I’m sure others would find such stories boring.       Oh also, somewhat along these lines, I like to add commentary that is only somewhat relevant, usually in parenthesis at the end of a sentence or paragraph. (Honestly, it’s not unusual to see one in every paragraph if I’m writing something slightly humorous.)  9.  Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?      I would LOVE to write primarily longfics! However, I just don’t have the time or energy for it, and I don’t write fast enough. So I end up with a lot of oneshots under 10k. I had to challenge myself to learn to write short things though, and then it’s really about writing something short, not about writing a specific story.       Generally, I’m both pantster and plotter. I tend to write the first chapter/few scenes/maybe as much as 10k, just by the seat of my pants. After that, I look at what I’ve got and write out a plot to continue from there. Plotting everything out before I start just doesn’t work for me, but if I try “pantsing” anything longer than 15k I know I’m gonna have an absolute torturous hell of a time.  13.  Do you share your writing online? (Drop a link!) Do you have projects you’ve kept just for yourself?      Lol I think anyone who’s reading this knows I share my stuff online. Primarily on my AO3, though there’s some other stuff floating around here on tumblr too.  Most of the time if I keep something to myself it’s only because it’s not finish enough to share. So, sure, there’s plenty of that, but the goal is always to share it eventually. If I ever get around to finishing a novel, those will probably be the only things I don’t just post online. (Though I do post most of my OC stuff currently.)  17.  Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?       I think that inevitably my readers will always perceive me and my writing a bit differently than I do. That’s just... interacting with people. Nobody knows you entirely. However, I am as open and honest in my writing as possible, and I actually think that reading my fic is the best way to get to know me. I like to hope that I am an open book to anyone who has read many of my words. =] While you may not know the details of my life, I think you would have a good insight into my personality.    23.  What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?       Like... my oldest fic/story that I’ve never written or posted? Not counting stuff I’ve consciously abandoned (things from middle school, mostly), my original fic series, “Damsel and Company in Distress” aka DamselCo. is definitely my oldest story. I think I started fiddling with it in 2006-- which makes it pretty disappointing that it’s gotten next to nowhere. XD; But the story is my baby, and it’s been my baby for so long that anyone who’s followed me ever is probably at least vaguely familiar with a few of the characters.  Now maybe one day I’ll actually give it the attention it deserves, though I’m sure it’ll need significant revamping. After all, a lot has changed in 14+ years. Ideas that were new and subversive then are probably already stale. 

[deniigi]

Hello! Just about to sit down and read your newest fic, so excited about it! I had a question for you (you very well may have answered this already, so sorry in advance!), but do you have advice for writing? Advice in terms of getting start, plotting out stories, helping get the creative juices flowing? I have all these ideas but seem to lack the drive to get things written out. I know the best advice is to just write, but I'm having a horrible time starting. What do you do in those moments?

Hello my dear!

Sorry for taking so long to get back to you. The lord has blessed me with a head cold and ruined all my plans of productivity for the day, so I can finally answer this ask! I’ll talk a little bit about both how to get started with a story and then some little things that help me motivate myself.

I have started a tag for writing advice here: http://deniigi.tumblr.com/tagged/writing-advice

This is going to be a long post, sorry mobile users.

I am going to preface all of this with the understanding that I am technically a professional writer in terms of like, a handful of ways, but I have absolutely zero training in creative writing, so take everything I say with a grain of salt!

So, I personally find that, on the whole, that psychological hurdle of getting started comes a lot from the anticipation of the kind of response a story will get (how many hits, how many comments, how many kudos) in addition to a bit of anxiety or fear over  theloss of sustained interest in that story (by yourself and/or by your audience). I find that this can be alleviated by really, truly internalizing the understanding that you are allowed to write your work however you damn please, for whoever you damn please.

There will be work you write for others, and there will be work you write for yourself. Not all work needs to be published; sometimes, it is really nice to just write shit for yourself; it is a plus for humanity if you decide to share it with others, but you do not have to do that.

Furthermore, I would like to present you with this:

This is what my current folder for under fire looks like. And you might notice that there are almost always multiple drafts per chapter. Yes, I did in fact rewrite chapter four 5 fucking times, you bet your ass I did. And I’m not ashamed of it. I think the story is better for it. And that’s the important thing here: you do not need to produce a perfect draft the first time around. You will not produce that perfect draft. Accept this. Embrace this. Embrace it and your cat at the same time to really ingrain it as a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Liberate yourself from the pressure of needing to produce the perfect, most right draft and you may find starting the piece overall to be a much easier, more pleasant experience.

And along with this beautiful, uplifting spiritual advice, I also bring a practical thought: when it comes to getting started, a lot of times, people feel like they need to set the stage, yadda yadda yadda. Ha. No. Fuck that.

That’s a surefire way to bore the shit out of yourself. Start right in the middle of a scene that captivates you if that’s what you want to write. It’s a free platform. No one’s gonna arrest you if you stick Spiderman upside down in trash first thing. They might even applaud you actually, because you didn’t make them slog through some of that ‘It was the evening of the 25th and it was cold out in the streets” bullshit we all learned from Dickens.

Alright. Now let’s talk about actually getting started making words appear on paper.

So, from my knowledge there are generally two ways that folks write creatively. You have what I’m going to call the planners and then you what I’m going to call the monsters (I call them this entirely affectionately, I’m sure there’s a better word for these folks, but I don’t have it atm, all I have is a headcold). Planners are folks who sit down and work out their major plot points, who write outlines, and who create the scaffolding of their work before they set out on their magical journey. I think of these folks as architects.

And then you have the monsters and these are those fuckers who just sit down and write stream of consciously like the heathens all our high school teachers tried to teach us not to be.

I am both a planner and a monster. And a lot of that depends on the length of work I’m going for. I have never in my life planned a one-shot, for example. I just attack that as it is. I follow my heart, if you will. But when it comes to longer chaptered fics, I really do think that some outlining is super helpful.

You might find it useful for one-shots, though, I dunno. Maybe give it a try and see what happens?

The two main fics I’ve done proper outlines for are Inimitable and under fire and I actually find outlining to be immensely helpful in psyching me up to write the story (I go through and re-read my outlines when I start to lose interest or diverge too much from the plot outlined there in the actual writing. 9 times out of 10, re-reading gets me stupid excited to write all over again) and it also helps me keep momentum going throughout the plot.

Here’s a pic of some pages of under fire’s outline.

Physically writing the work is really important for me because it forces me to only put down key points/feelings/ideas I want to include, whereas typing gives me far too much room to get lost/distracted by extraneous detail. And since my handwriting is a teacher’s worst nightmare and I cross out shit and write huge with emotion, I’ll give you a little bit of what the middle page here says:

Miles-

there’s something thrumming

vibrating in his ears wherever he goes

-closes his eyes and somehow enters blackness- emptyness (Stranger Things style)

beat

beat

beat

“help.”

–BACK - everything is gone

closing his eyes doesn’t bring the space back

–it makes him panic. He doesn’t know why. His heart is pounding. He’s sweating He has a horrible feeling of doom.

beat

beat

beat

its gone.

he goes home anxiously. Pretends everything is normal.

his neck crawls

So basically it’s less of a formal outline and more of a collection of stream of consciousness feelings and screenplay directions which I’ll flesh out in the actual story.

Personally, I love writing these kinds of things because they get me pumped for the story I’m about to tell. I get to write out the key scenes and work through all the hard parts first, and then, while I’m writing, I work through the little fun details and banter and I have to write to figure out how we get from one scene to the next and I love the challenge of having to fit those pieces together. I very rarely stick strictly to my outline, (as anyone who is currently reading under fire can tell you right now), but I do try to stick to the main plot points in it and my writing is certainly better for it.

So yes. Outlining is very good, but it is even better when you do it to some kind of music. I listened to What’s Up Danger from the Into the Spiderverse soundtrack on repeat while I wrote this outline to kind of transfer some of the relentless pace conveyed in that song to the piece’s plot.

I highly recommend using music to set the mood of your piece while/before you write a piece of any length. It helps get you in the right headspace (excited or somber or angry) to write. You need emotion to write creatively. You can’t just make that happen sometimes; you need a little help.

A couple other things which might help:

1. Leave your house or the space you’re normally in. Go to a cafe and find a nice corner and have a think and a try in there. Sometimes moving to a different space helps you escape cyclical thinking patterns.

2. Write what you want to read. Don’t bother writing for other peoples’ interests; that’ll just bore the shit out of you all over again.

3. Find an atmospheric mood sound to listen to on Youtube or smth (I personally like Rain on a Car Windshield for slightly somber fics, but you might be into ocean storms or dripping caves or whatever).

4. Heat your feet. I don’t know why but I am entirely unproductive when my feet are cold. Maybe this one is me-specific, but whatevs. Heat the feets!

5. If you’re still having trouble just sitting down and pounding the story out, that’s okay! Maybe it’s not ready to be written yet. Maybe you’re not in the right headspace yet. Sometimes that’s just how it is. One story makes its way out in like, a hour, and the next one takes like, months to finally be written. We all work at different paces. We all write for different reasons.

It might help to figure out why you want to write a story before you write it. Like, if its for attention, it’s gonna be hard as hell. But if there’s an idea that you feel like is important or if there’s a mood you’re trying to work yourself into or out of, then that might be a little easier. For example, I wrote a piece called make it work which is about Fogs finding his motivation to be a lawyer and fight for justice when Kavanaugh was confirmed and I felt super helpless in the face of our present justice system. That story kind of wrote itself and it needed to be written, I feel, not just for me, but for others who were feeling just as helpless.

Writing is catharsis in that way. Maybe you just need to find out what you need to wring out of your soul.

Sorry that got very metaphysical. But I do want to stress that getting started and ending a story are the hardest parts of writing them, so you are definitely not alone if you feel like you’re ramming your head into a wall here.

I hope something here helps you, my dear!

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam, I decided to take my 1st stab at writing fic. Its going great so far but Id love some advice from someone of your experience. I'm having trouble with tenses - Past tense feels the most natural for me to write in, but I hate how clunky it feels when I do action scenes (which I have many of). I LOVE how present tense feels more dynamic and snappy, real stream of consciousness effect...but I wind up having lots of weird phrasing. Idk, is mixing & matching tenses every few paras a bad idea?

Sorry to ramble, I guess my question is how do you tell if your writing is getting in the way of readability?

I think really there are multiple questions here – questions about judging the appropriateness of a style, about one style in particular, and about gauging a style’s readability. All are tough but let’s dive in! 

In terms of the appropriateness of a style, especially as a beginning writer, I tend to recommend going to books you really love, or writers you really admire, and looking at how their books are structured. Read not for pleasure (just this once!) but to see how they construct their paragraphs, how they use tenses and tense shifts, and how they convey information. This is a skill, so you have to practice at it! Look for passages that are mostly information, look for how dialogue is designed (are there a lot of dialogue tags? Are there none?) and pay attention to tense-indicating words like has, had, do, did, etcetera. 

In terms of tenses in specific, you will find that almost no story has shifts between tenses in the way you’re describing, in part because it does confuse the reader – is the story happening now in the moment, or did it already happen? People really like linearity in their stories, and tense shifts disrupt that linearity. HOWEVER, lots of stories do have covert tense shifts – for instance, a story told in present tense may shift to past tense if someone in the story is telling a story, or if the narrator in the present tense has skipped something and is now backtracking to explain it. There are ways to make tense shifts work, though they may make life more difficult for you. 

Lots of people will tell you that present tense is inherently not as good as past tense, and they are wrong; they just mean they don’t like it as much. For every person who says to me “First person present, Sam? Really?” there are fifteen people who don’t even notice because they’re just enjoying the story. 

This does make studying how to write present tense more difficult because you will encounter a lot of haters. However, because we use present tense more often in conversation than we do in literature, it can be awkward, as you’re finding out, to tell a story with it. The best way, again, to learn how to write less awkwardly in the present tense is to read in the present tense – find books that use the present tense voice and read them, studying how they handle wording that you’ve found awkward in the past. You may even find that what you think is awkward isn’t even that noticeable when you’re reading someone else say it. 

I am a big fan of knowing the rules so you know how to break them BUT ULTIMATELY if you want to write a story shifting between tenses, do it and the hell with what anyone says. You are experimenting with style, and if it doesn’t work it doesn’t work, but while you can write for others to read, in order to satisfy the creative urge really you need to write for yourself first. Write the story you want to write, the story you want to read, and you will learn as you go. If other people don’t like it at first, who cares? You told the story you wanted to tell. 

I ran into this when I was learning the ukulele – I realized that the reason I didn’t like playing music as a child was that my teacher was teaching me as if I was possibly going to be a concert pianist or play in a jam band. She had me learning a lot of musical theory and playing a lot of music that would give me technical skills – but they were not skills or lessons that were any fun for me, they weren’t music I liked or the skills I’d need to play the music I liked. And so I didn’t practice much and when I did it was without passion.

Learning the ukulele, I got proficient really fast because I started out playing songs I liked and learned the chords I needed for them because I wanted to play them so badly. I was enjoying what I did and because of that I learned faster. Did I learn every skill I will ever need for the ukulele? Of course not. Some of those missing skills, like reading sheet music, may one day be important. But those harder, more boring skills can come in time, when I already have my passion for playing cemented and I myself am willing to take the next step. And without ever doing anything I didn’t want to do, I learned how to compose songs of my own, because I learned how the chords from songs I liked fitted together. 

Basically, a lot of times, we teach art of all kinds to children as if it’s going to be a marketable job skill. It’s a very capitalist way we have. Very rarely do we let children find the parts of art they most enjoy without forcing them through the parts they don’t, I think because it scares us that they might make something that doesn’t fulfill some idealized potential. Art, in any form, is meant to be an expression of self, but even when we say “The outcome doesn’t matter” we treat it like it’s an assembly line. You can make anything you want to make as long as you make it in one of these three proscribed ways. 

So to your final question, how to determine when style is getting in the way of readability – that’s a really tough one because we are never objective about our own work; we know what we’re trying to say and we think we’re conveying it, but because we have backstage knowledge, we can never truly be sure. One way, of course, is to have someone else read it and tell us what they think; “I understood this, I didn’t understand that.” 

It’s a painful process, being told what we “did wrong”. It does help us learn; knowing how other people see your work will help you a great deal in terms of self-knowledge. But it’s also a process that’s only necessary once you’re already in love with what you’re doing, because at that point you WANT that self-knowledge that only comes from critique. So this leads back into what I said first: you have to love what you’re doing and do it from love first, and only care about other peoples’ opinions afterwards. There is no tried and tested way to know how other people observe our work, but if we love to make things for ourselves first, then we feel strong enough to ask and internalize the answer. 

Basically, write what you want to write, and if you find that you love doing it, keep doing it; soon enough you’ll get bored of doing the same thing and want to expand, and that’s where skills acquisition will come in – where reading, listening to readers, and self-reflection will be helpful, instead of just tedious. At that point you can explore the nature of tenses and how to write in a single tense with more skill -- or maybe you’ll write a crazy fun experimental novel with tense shifts and change the literary landscape. WHO KNOWS. 

Good luck! 

(Did you find this useful or educational? Encourage artistic expression and drop some change in my Ko-Fi or at my Paypal!)

[aion-rsa]

Cyberpunk 2077 Review

https://ift.tt/3mI17m9

A preface: Cyberpunk 2077 has had one hell of a rocky release, and it’s almost impossible to play the game while also ignoring the controversy surrounding its disastrous console launch, among other points of contention. That being said, in my time with the game—which I reviewed on PC—I remained focused on assessing the game that was in front of me, period.

Cyberpunk 2077 is without a doubt a mixed bag, though its strengths ultimately outweigh its weaknesses. The game blew my hair back with its immersiveness, art and sound design, staggering scope, and production value (at least on PC). But its shortcomings are just as notable, although never catastrophic or deal-breaking. Gameplay has blemishes all over, the writing is tonally inconsistent, and bugs do mar the experience to a certain extent. This is far from a perfect game in its current state. But in spite of all this, part of me fell in love with the game for its ambition, boldness, and eye-popping presentation.

The story is set in the year 2077 in Night City, a Central California metropolis run by megacorporations, populated by millions of cybernetically-enhanced denizens, and poisoned to the core by deep-seeded corruption and crime. You play as V, a small-time crook who by seedy happenstance befriends another gun-waving lughead named Jackie. Together they take on a big-time heist that goes tragically wrong and results, impossibly, with the personality construct of a decades-deceased rockstar/terrorist named Johnny Silverhand (Keanu Reeves) implanted in V’s brain, chopping his remaining life expectancy down to a sliver. V and Johnny must work together to split their respective consciousnesses and take down the Arasaka corporation, whose borderline-demonic tech brought forth their doomed coexistence.

From this point on, you’re free to explore the city and get into all kinds of trouble. There are a multitude of slimy sleazeballs to meet, complete jobs for, and get into shootouts with, as well as all of the other side tasks you’d expect from an urban open world. You can buy/steal cars and motorbikes and use them to compete in street races, stumble upon police shootouts and join in on the action, or steal copious amounts of money and paraphernalia from warring street gangs. There’s A LOT to see and do in this game—the question is, is any of it fun?

The answer is complicated. In short, my answer is “mostly.” I find Cyberpunk 2077’s gameplay to be problematic at worst and, at best, reasonably fun. If the game didn’t look and sound so good, I don’t think I would have enjoyed the gameplay almost at all. I have yet to tire of playing Cyberpunk 2077, but I think that’s a testament to how much I love the audio-visual presentation and the characters, not the gameplay itself.

Before diving into the gnarled, twisted matter of gameplay, let’s get this out of the way: this game world is one of the greatest I’ve ever seen. Several studios have delivered amazing looking game worlds this year, but Night City is a serious design achievement that the folks at CDPR should be very, very proud of.

Looking up at the looming, almost monumental buildings that shape Night City’s skyline is breathtaking, but it’s what you see when your eyes come back down to street level that impressed me most. Trash bags piled up two stories high, plugging up alleyways with graffiti of cybernetic freaks scrawled across deteriorating walls. The environments are insanely detailed, but they tell a story, too: look up and you see big money, squeaky clean windows, and technological ambition; look down and you see a sea of sufferers, psychologically and physically wounded citizens bled dry in the name of corporate conquest. From a purely cosmetic perspective, the game looks phenomenal, but it’s the artistic intention behind the designs that really makes the visuals sing.

As far as technical prowess is concerned, the game is spectacular provided you have the right machine to run it. Texture quality is insanely high, the environments are absurdly detailed, and the game’s lighting, especially with ray tracing enabled, is incredibly realistic. The atmosphere in this game is as thick as I’ve ever seen, and combined with the game’s pulsating, evocative, synth-based score, it creates a mood that few other titles can rival. Simply taking a walk around Night City and soaking in the sights was my favorite thing to do.

The character models are another high point–from the detail of the models themselves, to the way they move, to the top-notch facial animation, every weirdo you meet in Night City is unique and expressive. An interesting thing I noticed was that during some cutscenes that I found to be banal from a narrative point of view were still captivating to a certain extent simply because the character animation and voice acting were so well done. Some of the writing is a little odd, particularly when characters who are meant to be thugs and grifters speak in an unusually formal tone, but overall, the voice actors and animators do enough to make the dialogue-driven moments engaging.

What I fear won’t be discussed enough about this game is its sound design, which is just as excellent as the graphics. Cyberpunk 2077 embeds you in its world better than any game I’ve played this year, and that sense of immersion can be largely attributed to the finely-tuned symphony of sounds that is constantly being streamed into your ears. From the squeaking of leather couches when you sit in them, to the muffled thuds you hear when you drive over speed bumps, to the way crowds sound in enclosed spaces versus outdoor spaces, the level of detail and care that went into immersing the player is incredible. The three-dimensional sound design actually makes the visuals appear more vivid and tactile than they actually are.

As for the gameplay, I found Cyberpunk 2077’s combat in particular to be clunky and a tad slow. It isn’t broken or imbalanced, but it isn’t snappy enough and there isn’t that x-factor that you find in most great shooters that keeps you obsessively coming back for more. To put it another way, The Witcher 3’s combat was so compelling and entertaining that I happily played that game for over 400 hours largely because of the combat. Cyberpunk 2077’s combat is absolutely not what pulled me through the game for the 60+ hours I played it, and there are many reasons why.

Release Date: Dec. 10, 2020 Platforms: PC (reviewed), PS5, XSX/S, PS4, XBO, Stadia Developer CD Projekt Red Publisher: CD Projekt Genre: Action RPG

Combat is of the typical first-person shooter variety, with both shooting and melee combat supported. There are a slew of weapons to acquire and upgrade via the game’s crafting system, and the weapons all look and sound pretty sweet but are somewhat forgettable, which is a shame for a game boasting such a breadth of artillery. The “iconic” weapons, which you earn at different points throughout the campaign, stand out the most and come with useful perks. But none feel exciting to wield are pack the punch of Doom’s BFG or Half Life’s gravity gun. I did however enjoy the smart targeting feature you can access through a combination of smart weapons and a handy body mod, which allows your bullets to find their target no matter what direction you aim and can save your ass if you’re cornered and hurting behind cover.

Then there are the other two pillars of combat: hacking and stealth. Hacking allows you to wreak havoc on enemy tech to sabotage or distract them long enough to give you an opening to pounce guns-a-blazing. You can frazzle a baddie’s optics while you sneak up behind them, take control of all security cameras on a given network, or turn on a flood light to manipulate enemy movements. The possibilities are innumerable, and it all sounds great on paper.

But in practice the hacking system just isn’t all that fun to use. I was amused for a time, as I got increasingly more creative with how I used my scanner to tag enemies and objects and sabotage them from afar. But after a while this system became tedious because it slows down the action to an absolute crawl, and the tactical aspects of combat just aren’t polished or engaging enough to make up for the pause. In the later hours of my playthrough, I found myself almost always resorting to in-your-face combat because, well, it solved problems more quickly.

Stealth feels even shoddier than hacking, unfortunately. In most missions, there’s a big emphasis on taking your targets out quietly, but for me sneaking around almost always led to bouts of frustrated groans and eye-rolls. For one, enemies’ lines of sight are really difficult to gauge—some will spot you from seemingly a football field away, while others won’t notice you cross a walkway mere feet in front of them. On top of this, the window of opportunity you have to grapple enemies from behind is finicky—I’d be standing right behind a guy ready to grab him when suddenly the “grab” prompt would disappear inexplicably, when neither of us had moved an inch. I’d move in closer to try again and he’d turn around and…you know the rest.

I believe that if the stealth and hacking were more polished and refined, or even de-emphasized to a certain degree, it would free up the shooting to feel a lot more kinetic and exciting. As is, the combat grows old over time, which is a real shame when you think of The Witcher 3’s combat system, which is incredible and only gets sweeter as you play.

Read more

Games

Cyberpunk 2077: Every Romance Option in the Game

By Matthew Byrd

Games

Cyberpunk 2077: The Best Cyberware Upgrades

By Matthew Byrd

There is a whole litany of gripes I have with Cyberpunk 2077’s gameplay. The driving—be it on four wheels or two—feels slippery and unwieldy. The menus are an eyesore. Melee combat is atrocious. The “braindances”–investigative crime-reconstruction mini-games–are headache-inducing…I could go on. But there were other aspects of gameplay that I did enjoy, like the streamlined stash mechanic, the flexible crafting system, the number and variety of missions available at any given time, and most of all, the well thought out RPG elements.

The character progression system didn’t immediately strike me as anything special, but the more I played the game and explored the five skill trees (Reflexes, Technical Ability, Body, Cool, Intelligence), I found that the omission of a traditional class system actually makes character progression more fluid and encourages experimentation as opposed to nudging (or shoving) you down a particular path of mastery. Although I didn’t always enjoy enemy encounters, I did feel like the different perks I acquired helped me succeed in combat in ways that were easily measurable. For example, the “Vanishing Point” perk, which increases your evasion stat for seven seconds after you dodge if you’re dual wielding a pistol and revolver, totally changed the way I approached enemies. I quit stealthing for quite a while because darting around with my pistols blaring turned out to be super effective for me.

Generally, I did enjoy Cyberpunk 2077’s story and the fact that it’s more character-based than plot-based. The relationships between the characters take precedence over the machinations of the narrative, and I appreciate that. As in most RPGs, you meet characters and complete various tasks and quests for them, but with Cyberpunk 2077, I felt that the characterizations were so strong that I was actually more compelled to find out how the relationships between V and his supporting characters progressed than I was to collect precious loot at the end of missions. 

I found all of the game’s characters to be memorable, which comes as no surprise considering the character work CDPR has done in the past. Rogue nomad Panam can be both compassionate and vicious; the dutiful Goro Takemura is almost comically stoic and serious; Jackie’s tight relationship with his family and friends permeates the game in a poetic way. And Reeves does a fine job as Johnny Silverhand, though his style of voice acting took a bit of getting used to for me, particularly when compared to the rest of the cast.

The nice thing about V’s relationships is that the more you explore the city and the more characters you meet, the more possibilities open up to you in the campaign’s final act. There are a multitude of endings that you can reach, but these outcomes are largely dictated by the people you’ve met and how close you are to them. 

What irks me about the game’s last act is how it plays out leading up to the ending. After playing for hours and hours in the beautiful game world that is Night City, I was expecting to be treated to even more imaginative environments and enemy encounters at the game’s conclusion. Without spoiling anything, the final enemy encounters and environments are almost laughably unimaginative and generic, and that was a big letdown.

I indeed experienced bugs during my time with Cyberpunk 2077, but far less than I’ve seen for other platforms online. A couple of crashes and a slew of visual glitches definitely cropped up for me, but they didn’t color my experience nearly as much as the game’s positive traits did, particularly in the visual department. The bugs that bothered me most were the ones that affected the narrative, like when dialogue options would be missing or when characters’ voices would drop out inexplicably. But overall I had a relatively smooth experience that was no more buggy than your typical open world game.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

My relationship to Cyberpunk 2077 is a fraught one. I have so many issues with this game that I couldn’t possibly fit them all into this review. And I have just as many positive things to say. The grandeur of the project is both what I love and hate about it. I do wish CDPR had tightened its focus and worked out some of the game’s more glaring issues before rushing Cyberpunk 2077 out for a holiday release. But at the same time, I deeply respect the scope of the studio’s vision. This is a game with a strong sense of identity, and that’s something that you can’t say about a lot of AAA open-world games these days.

Cyberpunk 2077 is problematic, but ultimately I’m a fan of it in spite of its flaws. And I think in time its flaws will be ironed out and my fandom will only grow.

The post Cyberpunk 2077 Review appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2Kgqy1m

[mercerislandbooks]

Get Lost in a Book

My first English class in college was the most varied and exciting. “Literature in Film” was probably the best 100 Level class offered in the whole college. The entire lesson plan consisted of reading amazing books that were adapted into movies. Then, of course, we watched the movies. I was introduced to film genres previously unexplored, like noir, and classic films, like Apocalypse Now or Double Indemnity. Best of all was reading Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep and watching the requisite Blade Runner. I was in love with this cyberpunk aesthetic formed by simple and straightforward language. Young Harrison Ford didn’t hurt, either.

Part of what I loved and still love about Do Androids… was the writing style, how I consistently lost myself in the world, even if I didn’t understand it. And so I decided to read more… five years later. The Man in the High Castle was on my fiance’s grandmother’s bookshelf, so I asked if I could borrow it to read.

About a month later, I opened it up.

After some time, I got to the last page.

I finished it.

I closed the book.

I said, “What just even happened?” to the empty room.

I immediately opened up a young adult rewrite of Grease with two teen boys as the love interests (10/10 would recommend, titled Only Mostly Devastated, and out now). I anger-read that one in a day and let The Man in the High Castle rest in the back of my mind. I was so confused by the last twenty pages, the way truth and hallucinations and stream-of-consciousness type monologues floated into the narrative. Aesthetically, I loved reading it. Philip K. Dick is a magnificently pragmatic and forceful writer. Every word was picked meticulously. Narratively, I found the movement of events confounding. Even when I read detailed plot summaries online, I didn’t see what these literary readers found in the work compared to what I read. 

Upon re-reading the last few pages, I got it. Sort of? I am simultaneously enthralled and angry at my inability to read this novel with the proficiency I expected of myself. This was in late November/early December. It’s been a gift to reflect on the experience of being confused and challenged by a book. So often I read books that challenge my point of view but not my reading comprehension. While this experience was frustrating, as any ego-blow is, I am relieved that it allowed me to let go a little bit more when I read and get lost in the language.

Not only was The Man in the High Castle challenging, it also re-acquainted me with a genre I have been long remiss in not reading consistently over the past years. I read Ray Bradbury in middle school, but I think that reading Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep in college was my first adult sci-fi book since then. And while The Man in the High Castle is not a traditional science-fiction novel, the level of world building, historicising, and uncanny familiarity made reading it a similar experience to reading sci-fi. Ever a student of contextualization and historization, I have decided to put novels like Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler and Neuromancer by William Gibson on my To Be Read list to further immerse myself in the genre.

Since reading The Man in the High Castle, I have read Gideon the Ninth (and Harrow the Ninth, the sequel coming out in June) by Tasmyn Muir. I loved reading these books because of the same process of lostness that I found myself entrenched in. Instead of being frustrated by the experience, this time I enjoyed being immersed in a new world with rules I didn’t fully understand, the challenge of figuring them out, and the joy of seeing all the pieces fall together. Tasmyn Muir does a particularly wonderful job at scattering details and hints that seem unimportant until they are suddenly the most important detail to remember. Gideon the Ninth, for those interested, is a story of necromancers in space, ruled under the watchful eye of a goth God. Gideon is a servant to the Ninth House, the ninth planet in the system formed by God. She doesn’t know her history but knows that she doesn’t belong with the pale, black-haired, and moldering characters on the Ninth House. When she takes the ultimate opportunity to win her freedom, nothing ends up the way she expects. It’s amazing, cheeky, and full of snark. And the sequel only made it even better.

Books that similarly affected me and whisked me away into mysterious worlds and challenging prose seem to all have one thing in common: They are all set in worlds that are uncannily familiar. They are obviously not our world today, but close enough that you want to identify with the characters’ experiences even if you can’t. In Gideon the Ninth, Gideon encounters the archaic technology of white boards and wears vintage Ray Bands, but exists in a world where people can make swords out of old bones. In The Man in the High Castle, many of the facts of the world, the technology, the styles, the racism, is familiar, but the history is not. A book I would consider in the same vein would be Station Eleven, a book we always tout as one of the best of the last decade at Island Books. Emily St. John Mandel has since put out a new release, The Glass Hotel. I am behind the train and only halfway through, but its hypnotic prose, unreliable narration, and unclear timelines qualify the book for this uncanny classification. She even states at one point in the story, “It is possible to leave so much out of any given story,” coaxing us to think of all the moments she might be leaving out (65). I am lost in terms of understanding what is actually happening in the story. I couldn’t quite explain it to you yet. But I absolutely adore being lost in this world.

Escapism has been key to me over the past month or so as uncertainty of the future grows more and more prevalent. These books have reminded me that the world has always been uncertain; we are just able to see how fragile and translucent the construct of the future has always been. Losing myself in the pleasure of this uncertainty in books has made living it feel a little less surreal.

What books have you been getting lost in? Let us know and we will feature them on our social media! Tag us in your posts or send us an email at eventsandmarketing@mercerislandbooks.com.

— Kelleen

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/equinoxdeath-rebirth/

Equinox~Death & Rebirth

Equinox~Death & Rebirth

By A Gift From Gaia

The Equinox is here, and as I said in the SOUL-AR Alignment Group this weekend I am not sure I was aware just how true my words were during the Spring Equinox, I remember saying things just wont be the same come October and I feel these past six months have really shown more than we could have ever imagined, a lesson in releasing expectations….most definitely.

How we experience is simply dependent on the octave we choose to operate from but all will be working through the layers upon layers of the masculine wounding (its not about gender), abandonment being a program that surfaces for all, inner child healing going deeper and deeper through the many layers, the years, the beliefs, all of it having to be worked through the phases of understand, innerstand and overstand until the complete freedom from the old is experienced and a new field can be entered, which of course is a looping experience until it all gets figured out within and you remember how to play the game of life.

Today marks a super portal, I say this but the portals are now countless, constant and looking into the next few years in terms of the energy its only going to get much quicker and more data to process which is why I received guidance to focus these reports in the Inner Circle of A Gift from Gaia as they go hand in hand with the keys that I share and we can focus the energy more precisely, you are of course welcome to join us and make the SOUL-AR Alignment Group a part of your new SoulStyle Change too, because this is where the energy is focusing us, change, but it’s the counterbalance of the abandonment which may have been installed as a child by most likely the opposite sex parent but now as the adult is time to realise you are now responsible for you and therefore to release the loss and lack we must give and GIVE more, to Self……of course.

We are all being guided to fill in the void with more self love, and when you think you have it mastered then more will be required and ever increasing spiral of moreness because that is the path of light, that is the way we move, evolve and expand.

So what have you been changing to support you more? Some may be clearing their reality, their mind or awakening their heart by realising their value and feeding into it, placing energy and attention where it is most required. The key here is to plug into all that is light, its as simple as that and through this new focus you will find more following and joining through purity as 2020 shows us how this can be achieved once the program clearing is well underway.

It will look messy through the physical eyes however once The Eye opens you will see its purpose and the beauty that is grown through the essential chaotic streams.

So the Equinox today marks the balancing, the Sun enters Libra and we harvest what we have moved through for the last six months, doors of opportunity begin to open or perhaps you are now shown where you have been standing in your own way, which ultimately is a new door the question is are you choosing to expand your awareness and raise the physical vibration to enter because that is how new portals work, the key to enter is all about vibration and the secret behind this key is rejuvenation.

Let me explain…

Much of the old spiritual teachings will talk of death and rebirth around the Equinox, think about those words for a moment, what do you feel when you say the word death, its cold right? It feels bleak, alone. OK so how does the word rebirth feel, starting again? That can feel like a heavy task too especially when we played in the failure programs.

Now how does the word rejuvenation feel, never ending, never beginning, always expanding, always learning, always moving, and this is the frequency of an Equinox Portal if you are choosing to expand and join in Unity, because yes Autumn and Winter is about to set in here in the Northern Hemisphere but Spring and Summer is appearing in the Southern, its like we are passing the baton over in a never ending relay race. The Northern Angels now work under, and the Southern Angels now work above, all of us, collectively working together, evolving and expanding as One.

There is no ending, there is no death and rebirth when you realise the cog that you are amongst many millions all crucial in making this work, increasing the light here on our planet, in preparation for some ultimate physical reality shifts that we have incoming to experience.

I encourage you to watch the recent videos I have on Youtube where I talk about connecting to the morning and evening Sun, welcoming in the codes that our Brothers and Sisters on the otherside of the planet have been working on whilst we sleep and passing over the energetic baton in the evening as our sun goes down, a constant feeling of connection and purpose as you continue to raise your frequency each day, choosing to align MORE in each presenting moment. And now by simply releasing the old polarity beliefs and moving into the continuous rejuvenation pattern we align the physical body to enter this incredible portal and open to receive the abundant opportunities that now assist us in creating the next layer of our NewBuild.

So this morning walking to my meditation spot I realised what a glorious morning it is and knowing the weather is set to turn here rapidly into Autumn I looked up at the trees and said thank you as I walked past, their company has been Divine and the gifts and gems we have received have been perfect, energy pockets where the ability to tie up the loose ends, see the patterns and allow the old to leave, for good, has been so easy and flowing, more so than ever before……and the gratitude that fills us from taking the moments, to realise, to reflect and begin to see the pathways opening before you.

Carry in your hearts pure gratitude angels and flow through your next higher frequency portal.

Please place a heart in the comments to keep the heartbeat of A Gift of Gaia alive in the body of Facebook.

Sending so much love to ALL

*****

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[cnfhumss12a-blog]

Receipts of Binondo

By Ingrid Deldgado

When I was a child, I used to spend my nights helping my father in his home office just a floor below our family bedroom. Night after night, I would pull out handwritten receipts, all crumpled and stained with blood, from his old Seiko wallet and read it aloud to him. These receipts were from the meat supply business my family that has been passing on since my great grandfather started the business almost a hundred years ago. I would always goggle at these tiny scraps of paper, trying to decipher my father’s unique handwriting, as they lay carelessly scattered around the house. It didn’t take too long for me to recognize each scrawled word and memorize certain institutions that regularly appeared in the address line. The names Ha Yuan, Toho, and Sa Lido in particular remained stuck in my head because I always found them funny when reading out loud. It wasn’t until recently did I found out that Ha Yuan, Toho, and Sa Lido were not just names of old Chinese businessmen. It was, as a matter of fact, Chinese restaurants named after the old Chinese businessmen (close enough, though) along the business districts of Binondo.

 As someone born and raised in Manila, the Binondo district wasn’t a stranger in my stream of consciousness. For one, I’ve known it as the birthplace of my former school’s Mother Foundress (Venerable Ignacia of the Religious of the Virgin Mary, potentially the first Filipina saint if her canonization pushes through). It was also my parents’ go-to place for furniture needs (a nice Chandelier? Soler Street has tons; new sofa? T. Pinpin has an array; plumbing needs? Sta. Elena has a gallery of toilets). And of course, I have always known it as a delivery hotspot for my father’s pork and meat supply.

When the task of finally visiting Binondo personally came at hand, my father was naturally the first person that came into my mind. It seemed that he was just as enthused at the idea as I was because he didn’t just allow me to be dropped off but also had an itinerary in mind. The day was going to be our date as we both explored the hidden charms of the old business district.

Amidst the blinding sun of high noon, my father and I rode a single motorcycle to – in his words – give me an “immersive experience” of the bustling city. Scooped up in my father’s back, I was not protected from the stench of the esteros nor from the deafening shrieks of cars parading along Ongpin Street. Of the things I wasn’t shielded from was also the pulse of the streets’ energy as people hurriedly cross from one street to the next and sidewalk vendors call out for their next customers. Binondo’s streets boast of colors against the polluted Manila skylines, with red lanterns and Feng Shui hangings hovering overhead the idle traffic and tiny shops selling colorful treats tucked in narrow eskenitas. Though Chinese New Year had well passed, traces of the celebration still loomed in the side streets. Piles of Tikoy were still on display, as were the lucky charms and crystals that blessed the streets of Binondo.

First in my Dad’s agenda was lunch at the old Toho restaurant. Toho is the home of my favorite Spicy Squid, a dish unique to Toho as it was adapted from visiting an Indonesian local’s recipe that was shared to the family owner. It married the rich taste of ginger with 3 types of bell peppers and large squids, breaded and spiced with their “secret recipe”, and sautéed in garlic, butter, and atsuete oil. There wasn’t anything grand about the restaurant aside from the fact that it was one of the oldest restaurants still standing in Binondo. As a matter of fact, it looked more like an eatery than a proper restaurant per se with its scratched walls, worn out light fixtures, and darkened tiles. Of course, I was too polite to say these while the restaurant’s current owner, Mr. Al Wong, was with us during our visit. Surprisingly, however, he shared the same sentiments as mine. He spoke of his disappointments on the gradual decline of the restaurant that he had been with his family for more than seven decades. He lamented on the fact that every day, he only sa the same faces eating at his diner. He referred to the group behind our table as the same construction workers and laborers who routinely spend their hour-long breaks drinking cheap beer and eating warm Asado as pulutan. I listened closely as he talked to my father about renovating the space, saying that he was in talks with the architect of Mary Grace Cafes in hopes of modernizing the restaurant into something millennials could enjoy and rave about, maybe even get it trending online.

           After a hearty lunch, he allowed me to take a look at the exclusive kitchen where the magic happens. The place itself wasn’t as magical since it looked even older from the inside. What – or who, rather – left me enchanted were the people working inside. I met Mang Ben, an elderly cook of the kitchen, who specializes in their trademark Pork Asado. I was fortunate to catch him in his element as he was just tossing ingredients inside a dark, large pan when I walked in. One couldn’t immediately tell that he was a chef in charge of the kitchen. He wasn’t in uniform unlike the employees visible to the customers. Instead, he was dressed in an oversized t-shirt and paint-stained shorts. He has been working in the restaurant for almost three decades, and was able to work with my now passed Lolo who used to manage the meat shop when it was still a small stall in Quiapo.

           My little tour of the kitchen ended with me watching how my favorite Spicy Squid was cooked. I also brought home some takeaway for me to munch on for dinner later. I took one last look at the gloomy restaurant, knowing that it might be the last time I see it in its original architecture from seventy years ago.

           I rode my father’s scooter once again, still fully fueled from our stopover in Toho. We decided to roam around Ongpin for a while and visit small stores selling all sorts of minerals and stones that promise calm and peace and prosperity. It’s funny how their staff must have been already immune to the charms’ effects, seeing how they can be unnecessarily rude to the street children who happen to wander carelessly into their store.

           The distasteful trip to the old charm store was followed by a stopover at Lord Stow’s which I am most excited about. I had my first Lord Stow’s egg tarts in a quick trip to Macau and since then, I would always be on the lookout for branches here in Manila. The bakery is internationally famed for its luscious, melt-in-your-mouth egg tarts. Fortunately, their small bakery in Ongpin St. was accessible and just as tasty as the ones I found abroad. The egg tarts were just as smooth and fluffy, with sweetness and saltiness waging a war as the cream filling melted in my mouth. I ordered a box of four for takeout as I made a mental note to save it for a movie I have to watch later that night.

           The final box in our itinerary list is one of Dad’s customers, hidden away at the second floor of a commercial building hosting a jewelry shop at the ground floor. With signs barely visible, I unknowingly climbed the crusty stairs of the time-worn Sa Lido restaurant. We were welcomed by the shocking sight of old Chinese men sleeping on their own tables, one with his mouth open and others asleep above a newspaper they were supposed to be reading. My dad was greeted by the gracious staff. They knew Dad by his name as he was often there to deliver rations or to collect payment. “Panganay ko” he introduced me as I was curiously smiled at by baristas manning the old drip coffee machines. We were still full from our lunch earlier which was why we just opted to take a few pictures of the restaurant. With one look, the place is easily recognizable as an authentic Chinese restaurant due to its antique furniture and Feng Shui marks around. One of the staff whose name I cannot recall (sorry, Ate!) but who Dad knew well pointed out that it is their authentic brewed coffee that garnered such a loyal following from the Chinese residents of Binondo. These patrons come back so often that they have their own mugs stored at the cafe. She showed us samples of these mugs to show how some of these even have pictures of their owners. We didn’t stay too long as not to disturbed the few but loyal clients they have at the moment and once again rode the scooter to head home.

           As I settled on the back of my father’s scooter, I began recounting the day’s events, trying to relish every detail of the day’s trip. I finally saw Toho and Sa Lido in real life. They were no longer funny names in the receipts that I gathered from my father’s worn wallet. I met the owners and the staff that allowed to have a glimpse of the life my father has been leading. I saw the friendships he had to build in order to build us a life of satisfaction – a life where I couldn’t ask for more.

Beads of sweat formed in my temples as we rode away under the scorching sun. I hadn’t realized how tired I was until I got home and fell asleep almost immediately while my father drove away to supply more of his rations. I was so tired after a day’s worth of roaming under the sun, and I began to imagine what it must have been like to do just the same for longer than I have lived, and do so always with much joy. This was his life and I am glad that I got to see this part of him through the streets of Binondo.

Gallery: https://cnfhumss12a.tumblr.com/tagged/Ingrid

[nyhne]

Fanfic Asks

Was kindly tagged by both @gummyboots and @niniel-kirkland for this, thanks! c:

Why/how did you get into fanfiction? Huh, you know, I’m actually not sure. Possibly it came first from Warriors RPs? But it’s actually kinda interesting in that it was kinda a no-go to do anything with the actual canon content? Like if you were RPing as one of the canon characters it was seen as unoriginal or kinda big-headed, and that went for fanfic content as well. So yeah, I feel hesitant to say that I first started getting into fanfiction when I got into Hetalia, but I’m not sure when exactly I had gotten into it before then ahaha

Why did you get into writing? Don’t really have a ‘why,’ but have always been dipping my fingers into creative pursuits since I was a kiddo. Didn’t get into fanfic writing until Hetalia, but got back into more consistently writing when I started reading the Warriors series. 

How long have you been writing? Gee, since I was pretty small probably. Fanfics not really until Hetalia, which would have been around 2009

Do you think you’re a good writer? Hoooboy no. I think I’ve improved a lot, but I still have a long way to go to even feeling comfortable with my own writing 

Do you think you’ve improved? Definitely, and I think I’ve especially improved within the last year since I’ve started to actually transition to writing for myself? Or at least, it’s made me feel a lot more comfortable actually writing and that feels like an improvement c:

Name one thing that helps you write Lots of inspiration from things I experience in life! Stuff from just riding on public transportation, to watching movies, to going to concerts. It (shamelessly) makes me think, ‘what if this character was in this situation?’ and that definitely gives me fuel to write. Another thing that helps me actually write is just to talk out ideas ( @erengelion knows this well and has spent many a car rides with me blabbering about my fics lol) because it helps keep me inspired to write.

Have you ever gotten hate related to fics? I don’t think so, at least not aloud or anything that I’ve seen ahaha. I’m sure folks pass judgment on my fics all the time, but whether or not they voice it is another thing

Fanfiction or books? Oh boy gonna be kinda trash here and say fanfiction just in terms of consumption? I read a lot more fanfiction than I do ‘actual’ books

Do you want to professionally write? If not, what would you like to do/what do you do? Er, yes/no. I’m still too apprehensive to want to write professionally for fiction, but I’d be interested in doing stuff like analytical journalism/editorial writing- it’s actually why I have a creative writing minor (technically with a non-fiction tract)! Kinda interested in maybe trying to do more with poetry, but still lots of angst about actually publishing stuff ahaha

Have you ever been published professionally? Not really, one poem posted in an open-submission online magazine but that’s it so far c:

What is your favorite story/ies you’ve written? Fox Fic always has a soft spot in my heart just because it’s pretty self-indulgent and it’s been worked on for so many years. I know I like it too, because I’m still pretty enthusiastic about finally getting to rewrite it. It’s gonna go through a lot of major changes from its first draft, but I’m facing it with a lot of excitement, rather than resentment, which I take as a positive sign, if that makes sense!

Why is it/are they your favorite(s)? Poop sorry I gotta start reading ahead on these questions ahaha. But yeah, fox fic for the reasons stated above. Another fic I’ve enjoyed is the Antonio fic (Enamorate) just in that it’s been something new to explore and I’ve enjoyed the (relatively) slow build of it. There’s also a GerIta fic I’ve been working on that I really enjoy writing because a) it’s been nice exploring different characters but even as I say that what I really enjoy is writing about is b) Gil and Roderich’s relationship (which is on the backburner in the fic since it’s a GerIta story) because they’re kinda a mess and a half (in Ludwig’s eyes at least) in the fic and it’s super fun having them be a part of the story, without being the main focus? 

What is your least favorite story/ies you’ve written? Hooboy uh I dunno there’s a lot of older stuff that I just cringe at now. 

Why is/are they your least favorite(s)? Just younger writing, it feels like it’s trying to be too much, it’s pretty angsty but not really in a...necessary way lol

What is something you expect from a fanfiction? @niniel-kirkland put it well- it’s really great and interesting to see new perspectives on canon! You get to take the characters so much deeper in fanmaterial, and I love seeing it

How do you feel about troll fics? Aha I’ll read them, but uh, not really my go-to favorite category

What is your favorite writing style? I mean, if this is ignoring what I’m actually capable of writing, I’m a pretty big fan of thought/stream-of-consciousness writing with long sentences and lots of sentiment packed into it. A great example of a style I like is this fic! But otherwise, I tend to write in a bit more of a straightforward way. I have a hard time expanding details, even though I want to /: 

Do you write things for the sake of popularity? In some ways I used to? Or it was popularity guised as really just wanting to feel validated on my writing ahahaaaa...But I think now I’ve moved beyond that a lot more. I of course still have a lot of angst over other folks liking my writing, and I do have angst over statistics just because it can be such a visual representation of what people think of your work? But like I said, trying to get myself over that (~:

Do you think fanfiction is a good way to get into writing? Sure! Frankly, I think fanfiction is writing, but yeah I dunno why not lol 

What is something you like about the fanfiction world? Just how much can be explored! It’s great to see what folks come up with, and it can be really thought-provoking which is pretty cool, especially if the canon material is a bit ‘flat’

What is something you dislike about the fanfiction world? I dunno, the whole popularity thing can really get to your head and it’s rough to deal with. But that’s pretty much what life is always like so ahaha;;;

What is a pairing you’re currently shipping? Oh boy does it need to be said

What is something canon you’ll never ship? To be honest I’m still kinda /squinty eyes at Katara/Aang from The Last Airbender

What is something fanon you’ll never ship? Sometimes I’m kinda /squinty eyes at Spamano too sorry :xxx

In conclusion: Any writing advice? You’ll keep growing, don’t worry c: 

Lots of folks have already been tagged but if @lordsardine or @spockoutt wanna give it a whirl (or not!) go for it <3

[iamsielow]

The Coronavirus was NOT natural - Source it to the Chinese Military. - Part 2/2

The Coronavirus will be more deadly than you can imagine.

Preface: My Scribe tells me that, though insightful and on target, my stream of consciousness blogs tend to be a little long and sometime seem disorganized.  He tells me they play extremely well from the pulpit but I need to be more sensitive to those whose minds I cannot connect to directly.

I agree.  So here again is a post I wrote, broken down into two smaller chunks -- with some more stuff added.

It is my contention that the new Coronavirus is NOT a natural happening but an experiment by the Chinese Military that exceeded expected results.  The origin and nature of the start of this outbreak smell to high heavens.  The reactions of the government will leave you confused -- until you consider a heavy military influence in the situation. Then there are the incredible coincidences surround the entire event.  I ask you to review events both recent past and current as support for my contention:

Canada has their own version of the American Center for Disease Control (American CDC).  These facilities have high security levels where infectious diseases are studied in an attempt to understand them so that options can be developed to fight them.  In the process of discovering cures for diseases, you also learn how to make them.

Last summer (2019) a considerable number of Chinese researchers at Canada's only level-4 lab were removed from National Microbiology Lab in Winnipeg over what's being called a possible "policy breach."  https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/chinese-researcher-escorted-from-infectious-disease-lab-amid-rcmp-investigation-1.5211567

All their electronic items were confiscated and they were escorted from the facility under guard. It is most likely that one or more returned to China.

Then there was the location where the disease suddenly appeared.  While no "Patient Zero" (the first person to have the disease) has been identified, it is known that in a general Chinese market the disease originated the virus just "suddenly sprang up" and then began to spread.

Next is the fate of the first doctor to report the virus.  As detailed in many reports, the doctor, Ophthalmologist Li Wenliang, who originally reported the new strain of the Coronavirus to other doctors was IMMEDIATELY set upon by the Chinese Government and punished for warning other doctors of the disease.  Among other actions, they demanded he stop talking about the disease he had discovered.

Sadly, he became one of the victims of the disease, but the reactions of the Chinese Government were of the same level they reserve for people who reveal state secrets.

https://www.breitbart.com/news/death-of-chinese-doctor-fuels-anger-demands-for-change-2/

Then there was the Chinese government's reaction to the virus itself.  The uninformed, general population side of the government was calling out alarms hoping to head off the spread of the virus while the military side of the government was repressing reports of the virus; everything from the strength of the bug to how it was spread to the number of infected people to where it was located.

Offers of assistance by agencies outside the Chinese government were instantly refused. Aspects are admitted to by officials and then instantly denied.  Internet articles critical of the response are wiped from message boards.  Tracking information is hidden from the general population.

Reactions which were almost like you would expect a military to respond to people learning of a military operation gone wrong.

Next there's the 1,000+ bed hospital the Chinese are building to house the infected population. I suggest you don't be surprised to learn that people will "disappear" from the facility, never to be heard from again.

Why do I suggest this?

Consider how convenient this facility will be.  You round up one-thousand-plus infected people, a sample of the infected population, and as you monitor their illnesses it also gives you a chance to measure the effect of the experiment.  If any unexpected aspects that pop up in any patient, it tags that patient for removal and further study.

This is easy to do in a new facility where a large collection of the patients have been gathered and where "mistakes" constantly happening concerning the movement and location of patients.

Remember, if this IS a military experiment, they will be measuring all manner of items about the success of the weapon:  Spread rate, incubation time, life span and, worst of all, rate of mutation.

The problem is that as general population members wandering around everywhere, it begins to get hard to track such things.  But if you gather up a thousand-plus sample of the infected population, then you can study the weapons effect close up AND remove the variants for more study.

WATCH FOR PEOPLE to be reporting that people check into the hospital and then are never heard from again.

(UNVERIFIED) So, Yes, I submit that based on the reaction of the military side of the Chinese government, this was an experiment by the Chinese Military with unexpected results.

One aspect of germ warfare is that you tend to create a cure for the disease when you create the weapon itself.  After all, you do not want the weaponized virus to start wiping out your own troops.

So watch for a cure for the disease to suddenly appear should it start touching the highest level of the Chinese government.  After all, a disease which kills its master(s) is the worst kind of monster there is.

Just ask Doctor Frankenstein.  And just like Frankenstein's Monster, the Chinese Military's Monster is roaming the countryside destroying the people it encounters.

There is one aspect of this you need to recognize, one thing about the nature of the Chinese Communist government:  When a leadership has no belief in God, they will start to assume they have the wisdom to assume such a title themselves -- Often leading to deadly results for the citizens they rule.

Communist China believes, like many atheists do, that there is no punishment waiting for them after passing from this life.  For this reason, experimenting on and using the Chinese People has no consequences.  The Chinese Government IS God.  No one shall question its actions, no matter how deadly the results.

**

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[davidaolson]

The Quality of Light

Elsewhere the sky is the roof of the world; but here the earth was the floor of the sky. ~Willa Cather

Picture crystalline waters at the source of a frigid mountain stream formed when snow cries during the first warm rays of spring. Picture a turquoise ocean offering a warmth as welcoming as an amniotic bath birthing a blue as succulent as the first kiss with a person who perfectly fills the void in your soul. Mix them together with curls of airy bird down and you will begin to understand the near perfect light and wispy cloud sky engulfing you when stepping off the plane into Northern New Mexico.

This was our 2nd trip to New Mexico in 2018. We visited the Southern part in May. That trip we disembarked in El Paso a scant four miles from the Old Mexico border and drove up into New Mexico. The New Mexico light did not seem as brilliant as this trip. I’m guessing it’s either because there was a gradual transition from normal light to New Mexican light so we missed the dump an ice bucket over the head experience. Or the 1000+ foot elevation increase exponentially improved the North’s light quality.

Either way, I was mesmerized the moment I stepped into the light and walked the next few days in a hypnotic trance. It did not matter that we were in the middle of a 600,000 person city emitting citified pollutants. The light burned away all particulate that would diminish the radiant glory.

Sounds like I am describing an encounter with God?

Well, my mind was swamped with emotions I can only describe as arriving home after an interminable absence, bruised and battered then being embraced by Mother’s loving arms. Home? Yes. It was my first trip to Albuquerque and I had not felt this much at home since the moment I awoke in the backcountry near Moab Utah, crawled naked out of my tent, and, for the first time, set eyes upon the redrock giants worshipping the Great Mystery. It is a feeling I relive every time I return to the Moab area.

So, why does Alburqueque feel like home, too?

It may very well be the Albuquerque proximity to Southern Utah allows me to feel the aura radiating from the land that embraces me in spiritual concupiscence. Come to think, Navajo lands are close by and, at points in history, encompassed the entire area now known as Four Corners. First humans emerged somewhere on what is currently Navajo lands. Which means I would likely feel home anywhere close to the navel. Which is why I feel an at home intimacy.

Intimacy with land?

I think I was born here in one of my past lives so experience a connection like nowhere else on earth. I am not an adherent of reincarnation. But, I can fathom no other explanation. Looks like I need to move into the area, connect with the umbilicus, and spend a few lifetimes in deep contemplation. Even if I don’t ‘see the light’ I will be connected to the center of the universe.

Whatever, the reason, it feels good to be home. And the light was spectacular. No wonder Georgia O’Keeffe chose to live her until her death at the age of 98.

Georgia On My Mind

My first memory is of light — the brightness of light — light all around. ~Georgia O’Keefe

I’ve read Georgia O’Keefe painted in New Mexico because of the dual inspirations of landscape and light quality. What I didn’t know, she, like me, has Midwest roots. She was born in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin which is a plowed under prairie and, when compared to New Mexico, the sunlight is found wanting. One day I, too, will sever the roots anchoring me in Chicago and move to the Southwest. It may be as soon as a few months or on a 9-year horizon. And, like her, I will spend eternity in the Southwest when my ashes are scattered somewhere near Moab.

I have long understood the inspiration wrought of landscapes for I am tickled to my toes by open mesa vistas, sparse desert panoramas, bizarre rock formations. These thrill me to a greater degree than any of the fabulous houses where devotees gather to worship their creator irrespective of the names they use to identify Ultimate Consciousness.

Georgia is not the only artist to take residence in New Mexico. We opted for a leisurely drive along the Turquoise Trail connecting Albuquerque to Santa Fe. Wide open spaces are punctuated with smallish artist towns. We stopped for a while in Madrid. The ‘a’ sounds as in the word bad, unlike Madrid Spain where the ‘a’ has an almost ‘uh’ sound as in mud.

Cow Chair

The main drag in Madrid is flanked by quite a few galleries and shops posing as galleries. I was drooling at the first gallery we entered. There was amazing art including paintings and sculpture and lithographs and on and on by local artists. I would love to have bought up most of the store and decorated our home in Chicago. But, we have little wall space to mount the great works and they were hella expensive. If we do shift our lives to Albuquerque, I know where we are going for items to decorate our living space.

Oddity

We could have spent the entire weekend admiring the art along the Turquoise Trail. But we had things to do and were bent on seeing Old Town in Santa Fe. In retrospect, it paled when compared to the little towns along the way. Speaking of along the way…

In El Paso, we happened upon a pink bench along a near-deserted road. It was so out of place, we had to stop and take a bunch of pictures. It is my favorite recollection from El Paso. I have never seen anything as incongruous to its surroundings. However, something came close in the middle of nowhere between Madrid and Santa Fe.

Artsy Cylinder

We were driving a gentle incline with scrubland on either side and a smattering of pine trees. To our left, just off the side of the road, we saw a painted wall. We stopped abruptly. The road was almost deserted so there was no worry of being tagged in the ass end.

We parked. I crossed over the barbed wire. The wall turned out to be a cylinder and was painted all the way around. It was obviously a drinking haunt for locals as evidenced by the broken glass around the cylinder and the bottles I spied through a hole showing the inside.

We had a nice lunch in Santa Fe but were not enamored with the Old Town. It was mostly touristy shops charging exorbitant fees for trinkets. I did see a nice lambskin jacket. However, it was ridiculously overpriced at $1,700. The only item I bought was a two-ounce packet of powdered Chili de Arbol pepper. It has a good kick while not crossing over to blazing hotness. New Mexico is also known for chilies.

Sunset from 10,378 Feet

Our first evening in Albuquerque, we took the Tram to up into the Sandia mountains. It runs 2.7 miles topping at 10,378 feet. There was snow on the ground at the summit and it was chilly growing chillier with each degree the sun descended. Though unplanned, we were in time to watch the sunset from the mountain top.

I have already regaled the New Mexican light quality. Now, imagine that chilly stream burbling, the ocean swelling, throw in shades of chili pepper oranges and reds. Now throw the mixture against the distant sky and you approximate the sunset we watched from atop the Sandia Mountains. The distant light felt liquid, flowing. There were streaks reminding us of firework trails. We both agreed, it was a sunset such as we had never before experienced on all our world travels.

Against the backdrop of the sunset, a few paragliders and hang gliders soared through the air. We were slightly protected from the breeze and were cold. The gliders were either freezing or wrapped in enough layers to keep warm. I imagine the exquisite sunset added to their sense of comfort.

I am a sunrise/sunset chaser. When in a place where I can shoot a sunset, I wake early and plan evening activities to ensure I am well positioned to capture the brief moments the sky mimics the hues of carotenes. Was I a year-round resident of Albuquerque, I would fork out the $230 annual tram fee and shoot thousands of sunset photos. It was that amazing.

By the end of our few days in Alburqueque, I can honestly say everything about the Northern New Mexico calls to me. If I can land a decent job here, we would move in a heartbeat.

Crystalline Skies in Northern New Mexico The Quality of Light Elsewhere the sky is the roof of the world; but here the earth was the floor of the sky.

[doxampage]

Commercial Printing: Hand-Drawn Packaging Art

I remember growing up on Arlo Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restaurant,” hearing that if fifty people a day came into the recruiting office and sang a bar of “Alice’s Restaurant,” the collective effect would be a movement, the “Alice’s Restaurant Anti-Massacree Movement.”

Well, I see another movement coming, in commercial printing and packaging. In our living room my fiancee and I now have a square corrugated box of nuts, two Chipotle cups, and the printed box for a container of Cabernet Sauvignon “House Wine.” What they all have in common is that all of them look “hand drawn,” and all are monochromatic, flexo print jobs.

I’ve already written a blog post about the humor, playful drawings, and quaint sayings on the flexo-printed nut carton, so I will focus this time on the two cups and the box of wine. I see some interesting marketing benefits inherent in this casual approach to design. I think it’s an exceptionally effective approach that rests firmly on basic principles of psychology.

Overview (the Chipotle Cups)

First the Chipotle cups. I have long been a fan of Chipotle’s design and marketing work because it engages the viewer using surprisingly sparse imagery. Like other Chipotle marketing work, these two cups rely on single-color custom printing. When I look at the ink under a 12-power loupe, I see a dark brown, almost black ink with a hint of red coloration. The halos around the perimeter of the type letterforms, with ink that is somewhat uneven and bubbly under high magnification, indicate flexographic commercial printing. But even on the exceptionally small type, this does not diminish readability. To the naked eye, everything looks crisp.

Each of the two cups includes about 25 lines of printed type. Both are entitled “Cultivating Thought, Author Series,” although the type treatment of this title differs from cup to cup. On one cup, the title is surrounded with drawings of figures, power tools, and electronic gadgets (a TV remote, a cell phone). Everyone seems somewhat stressed out, based on their expressions. They seem to be busy, perhaps overwhelmed with multiple tasks.

The text copy on this cup (written by Colson Whitehead) provides a zany, stream of consciousness glimpse of a couple whose TV is possessed. It only plays reruns of Cheers (the episodes with Diane).

The second cup has only one image, a smallish surfer on a surfboard, with all manner of words (like “creative,” “motivation,” inspiration,” and “love”) jammed together in a “tag cloud” and flowing like a cresting wave behind her. The words nestle into one another and are presented in a hand-dawn font reminiscent of 1960s posters. Their combined image forms the surfer’s wave behind her.

In a stream of consciousness form, the narrator (Sue Monk Kidd) addresses the question of what to do with her life. It’s almost like reading a diary, very personal, very intimate. The text reveals the narrator’s coming to embrace not the answers of life but the questions themselves.

What Do the Cups Say About Life, Art, Psychology, and Marketing?

I think the way to understand these cups is in the context of hand-drawn marketing items in general. Here are some thoughts:

We live in an increasingly impersonal world. No one seems to even notice us, let alone care. Within that context (which goes against human nature), an informal marketing item that directly addresses the reader with a brief, interesting story, can be very compelling. It is personal and concrete in an impersonal world.

Humor makes the pain and absurdity of life less oppressive. (Think back to the zaniness of 1960s movies and TV shows.)

Cool, edgy text copy invites the reader into a small, exclusive group: the smart, savvy people. Everyone wants to be a part of this exclusive club. Even the Chipotle restaurant interior design, signage, and marketing collateral, as well as the restaurant logos on the cups, reinforce this message of ultimate “coolness.” Affiliation is a basic human psychological need. This tribal and casual marketing approach directly addresses this need.

From the point of view of the vendor, the reader is a captive audience. Anything printed on the food packaging (cups, bags, etc.) will be read at some point, particularly if the person is eating alone. (Think about how many times you have read the cereal box while eating breakfast, when you’re not on the phone or checking emails.)

Single color type and art stand out in a marketing arena (i.e., the customer’s entire field of vision) in which almost everything else is presented in full color. Marketing messages compete for your attention. Any marketing item different from all the others will stand out. Ironically, as single-color, casual marketing items become the norm (i.e, the “movement” I mentioned above), they too will cease to be visible to people.

Overview: The Box of Wine

“House Wine” seems to be the name of the company as well as the description of the contents of the box. When I was growing up, liquids came in bottles. Now they come in bags (flexible packaging) and boxes (folding cartons with flexible packaging inside).

The title “House Wine” just works. People these days embrace “utilitarian-chic.” Simple, hand-drawn line art and type give a functional appeal to this box of wine, as does the notation that one box equals four bottles or 20 glasses. People today like lots of information, specifications, details. The box includes all of these.

Again, like the Chipotle cups, the box of wine is printed in one color: black. This is not really true, although the overall look is of a one-color, low-budget job, a functional product with a functional design. It actually has a little blue ink, positioned on the doors of the house (which is the logo, “House Wine”) and the word “original” on one side of the box. The box design looks sparse, just the perfect drink for those who either love to live simply or who have no other choice.

What Does the Box Say About Life, Art, Psychology, and Marketing?

Like EF Schumacher’s book on economics, Small Is Beautiful, this box exudes simplicity in its low-impact, environmentally-conscious commercial printing. Under my loupe I can see the halos around the text and the watery looking ink (with bubbles and other irregularities) that reflects flexographic custom printing. Since the packaging is a box with gloss litho paper covering the corrugated fluting, I’m not surprised that it was printed via flexography (although the litho paper could also have been offset printed and then glued to the corrugated material).

Here are some thoughts about the overall look:

As with Chipotle’s two cups, this box has a simple, casual air. I’d say it would appeal to young people on a budget who want to savor the joys of life but who may lack sufficient cash flow.

These customers may also have a taste for energetic living, the irreverent, and simplicity.

The design is simple and bold, easy and cheap to produce, and environmentally conscious in its appearance. I think it’s aimed directly—and quite effectively—at young urban professionals.

Overall Views

Overall, I love the approach of this product packaging (which is really marketing collateral). My only hope is that the approach doesn’t morph from a quirky and edgy experiment into a movement, and then into a commonplace style seen everywhere. It’s like the bell bottom jeans of the hippies. At the beginning they were a protest. At the end, they were a uniform.

Commercial Printing: Hand-Drawn Packaging Art published first on http://ift.tt/2vVn0YZ