#remix pro

[nevesmose]

I think the Replikas are in control of the gestalts in Signalis. Hear me out.

Sierpinski is a space gulag with replika guards. Fair enough. But then we get to the apartment building on Rotfront where, first of all, the blockwart is a Kolibri. A heavily armed Kolibri on the lookout for spies, who we can see from her computer has access to everyone's medical records and the right to enter someone's property whenever she feels like it:

So in that block at least, everyone lives under constant physical and bioresonant surveillance from the gremlin downstairs. Let's look at the report Ariane's teacher wrote about her:

So communal living with a Kolibri warden is the expected norm for everyone since the Revolution, and Ariane is considered suspect for not growing up this way.

Speaking of Ariane's teacher, there's a comment in the school memory about her:

Eule wipes it clean before she can note it down so I have to copy from Erika

Further supporting this is one of Ariane's notes:

So we can see that Eules are the ones who educate gestalts. Let's imagine that you, a gestalt kid, wake up in your apartment block and head out past the psychic replika who has awareness of everyone and everything in the building. Currently she's slowly pushing her steppy over to reach up to a bookshelf, but still.

Out the door with your gas mask on, remember not to look too hard at the great red eye and off via the metro to school where you can do a little light bullying of the kid with weird hair and then sit down to lessons from a pleasant, friendly Eule who regularly reports to her superiors about your political reliability.

That's not even taking into account the constant possibility of an Ara being inside your walls at any given moment, or the Storch/Star police brutality tag teams roaming around.

So on Rotfront at least, gestalts seem to live in a crushingly regimented culture of constant replika surveillance every bit as sterile and suffocating as the DDR the game draws inspiration from.

No wonder Ariane wanted to escape it any way she could.

By the way, I know Ariane is called the "gestalt officer" on the Penrose but she doesn't seem to have much actual seniority or control of anything beyond her radio communications work. Elster is the one who maintains the ship, and we know that she's dedicated enough to do that to the absolute limits of her endurance anyway no matter what state Ariane is in (😢) so it'd just be a case of ordering someone to fulfil the task they were literally created to do. Almost as if the officer title is a meaningless bauble designed to make the Penrose Progamme more appealing to gestalts.

[pro-royalty]

Ice Spice x Princess Diana (Remix) Music Video

[soapdispensersalesman]

Who remembers the YouTube remixer from 2007?

[kirkoid-music]

My Inner Mystery (Kirkoid Mix) - November 2014

My remix of a track by Stefan Kartenberg, it was my entry in a 2014 ccMIxter competition. I remember I was a bit stuck to start with, then discovered an Indian drum track sample that made me think of thunder, so then I decided to add some thunder, rolling across the verses.

I took the stems and distorted some and flanged the rest. Initially the vocals were very phased, but then I came back to it undid that to made them stand out a bit more. Then, I missed the phasing so I redid the backing vocals to get the best of both worlds. I think now I need to make the distorted guitar louder.

Reviews for My Inner Mystery (Kirkoid Mix) on ccMixter

Great great work!!!

As they say in ReBoot this is “Alphanumeric!”.

Quite a transformation, from source material to mix. Very inventive.

This is freakin crunchy fantastic… Auto tuned campfire music :)

Wow! Love your treatment. Has a great sound and feel — totally unique despite familiar sonic references. Great job. Thanks so much for being part of the ccMixter musical family!

So much amazing guitar work in this! i love the static and the driving acoustic tracks. feels like a modern day Simon & Garfunkel song - the use of the thunder is awesome. divine from start to finish.

A nice mix - thank you very much, Kirkoid.

This is amazing!

[softerbaseball]

[1147] burning cities melt hearts

[nomiqbomi]

Sometimes I get the sudden and irresistible urge to find the separated a capella track of a song and make some kind of weird remix of it.

It’s pretty simple and a little choppy in some places but I think it sounds alright for something I threw together in an evening or two.

[baldmultiverse]

Finally watching (currently 21 min in) the last episode of supernatural after procrastinating it for … uh two years and anyways I was n o t missing out lmao this ending is trash

[youmg44]

I've finally arrived on this website. better late than never lol

[mysticalmagicalmisato]

misato - orphan ghost (+stems) - (06/05/20)

an old friend has come along to help! all purchases will be matched and sent to pro social justice causes (current focus: women's reproductive rights) plus! as an added bonus for you, you'll get all the stems to mangle as you so desire!

this is a kooky spooky little thing i had sat on for a couple of years, it was originally going to be part of a halloween special type project that soundtracked the story of a ghost trying to make sense of the afterlife and piece together the lost memories of his life and death, exploring bizarre places and meeting curious characters along the way

that didn't end up happening

[pro-royalty]

Ice Spice x Princess Diana (Remix) Music Video

[tour-de-pants]

Guys, I did a thing...

Just a quick alt meet RPF of Watson and Holmes... You know I ship it, don't @ me! Let me know if I should do more :) -Pants

If he’d been paying any attention, Watson would’ve noticed the aggravated stare from the woman one table over. He’d been tapping a slim wooden stir stick against his mug for five minutes that must’ve felt to her like fifty. He wasn’t the sort to annoy strangers, or anyone, intentionally. Usually he didn’t even mind someone else running late to a meeting. But if Lestrade didn’t turn up soon he might just lose his mind.

Training diets were a hell he put himself through willingly, and after fifteen years, the strain was fairly easy to take. Without much of a sweet tooth to speak of, he had it better than many—especially poor Anderson, who harbored a desire for pain au chocolat to rival his want for a mountain win. Not a lot got to Watson anymore, but the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans in this place… damn if he wasn’t about to crack and down a massive hazelnut concoction worth half a day’s calories. 

“‘Ugh, honestly,”’ the woman one table over grunted, drawing Watson’s attention away from the door. He frowned as she met his eyes with a look of disgust. A lifetime in London wouldn’t be enough to understand these people. 

“‘Hey John, sorry ‘bout that. Perils of mass transport, you know how it goes.” ’Lestrade slid into the seat across the table, the bizarrely small size of which Watson was noticing for the first time. They really didn’t want folks to hang about, he guessed. 

“‘It’s alright, Coach,”’ Watson answered, gulping his unexpectedly still hot tea. 

“‘Aw, don’t you do that, mate. Makes me feel like an old man in charge of a bunch of teenagers.”’

“‘I know.” ’Watson smiled. Lestrade was a good guy—and a good coach. Maybe he was jumping the gun with this whole retirement thing. “‘So what are we doing here? Besides testing my resolve against the Kenyan roast of the day?”’

“‘Need to let you in on something before the Prologue, being team captain and all. I wish I could tell the whole group, but it’s a bit sensitive.”’ The clasping and unclasping of Lestrade’s fingers told Watson this wouldn’t be a time for jokes, regardless of what he was about to hear. Something distinctly non-chamomile turned in his stomach.

“‘What’s up? Is someone injured?”’ He leaned forward the few inches it took to bring their heads close. “‘Worse?”’ 

“‘Oh, no, no. Nothing like that, thank God. No, it’s…you’re getting…it’s a new teammate.”’

Watson leaned back in his chair. Of course it was a new teammate; it’d have to be, what with Sholto out. After that crash last year, the doctors said he would never mount a bike again. He’d managed to stay out of the media once he’d stabilized and been transferred to a rehabilitation facility. It’d been a big hit for the team in terms of the Tour and fears for their own safety out there. Few teams in recent years had been as cohesive as Speedy’s; the idea of bringing in someone new was hard enough, but—

“‘This close to the Prologue, though? Why can’t the other guys know? And why didn’t you just ring me about it?”’

“‘John, it’s…”’

Watson waited, stir stick tapping against his saucer now. He heard the woman next to him mutter a curse as she scooped up her laptop and walked off. Some people were just grumpy, he supposed. 

“‘John, it’s Sherlock Holmes.”’

It was Watson’s turn to curse under his breath. Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes who rode the Tour ten years ago? Sherlock Holmes who left the race and the cycling world in a cloud of cocaine use allegations and rumors about a tryst gone bad with his own teammate? Sherlock Holmes whom no one had heard from since?

“‘Sorry Greg.”’ Watson blinked hard in an attempt to make sense of the news. “‘I thought you said Sherlock Holmes.”’

“‘You can’t tell anyone, mate. And sorry for laying it on you like this. There are more things beyond my control than I’d like, but I can assure you he’ll be riding clean and is physically fit for the job. Listen, I hate surprises as much as the next guy, but my hands are really tied with this one. I’m letting you know now because I anticipate I’ll need your help.”’

Watson ran a hand through his hair, short and light despite it only being late June. He still couldn’t figure out why he’d had to come out all this way to hear about this, but Lestrade always had reasons for what he did and he was usually right.

“‘Ok. Yeah, alright. Thanks for the heads up. Whatever you need, I’ll back you.”’

“‘Great.”’ A relieved smile flashed across Lestrade’s face as he rapped his knuckles on the tabletop and stood to leave. “‘Now get yourself out of here before temptation wins the day.”’

“‘As if it ever could.”’ Watson nodded and returned the smile, waiting for the door to close behind Lestrade before moving to add his cup and saucer to the mounting pile of dirty china above the trash bin behind him.

“‘Ceramic,”’ intoned a deep voice behind him.

“‘Pardon?”’ Watson asked, furrowing his brow but not turning.

“‘The dining ware isn’t china. It’s ceramic.”’

Watson stepped toward the bin, tossing in his stir stick and paper napkin before precariously balancing his ceramic cup and saucer on the returns shelf. 

“‘Are you my conscience?” ’he asked, laughing lightly as his own joke and holding up pleading hands in front of his mug until he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be the one to send the whole lot tumbling to the floor.

“‘Unlikely. Though I suppose we’ll see how the early stages go.”’

Early stages? Watson turned slowly, eyebrows rising and jaw dropping as recognition dawned. Holy hell, you’re—

“‘Sherlock Holmes, yes. Kind of you to remember me, though perhaps the memory you’re recalling is not in itself so kind.”’

“‘What are you doing here?”’ Watson looked around suspiciously, feeling as though he ought to be paranoid though he didn’t know what he might be trying to spot. 

“‘Seeing as how it is a coffee shop, one might suppose I stopped in to purchase coffee. And as much as I do hate to be predictable, in this particular case, that supposition would be the correct one.”’

“‘Well yeah, ok, but I mean why are you here, in this coffee shop? Now?”’

“‘I take it an odd experience has befallen you in the past hour—no, half hour—and you haven’t yet processed whatever it is. News of some kind, I should imagine. However, blocking the bins with your jaw wagging like a goldfish, while apparently a natural choice for you, is in fact not typically the most productive one.”’

“‘Oh, sh—sorry, I’m very sorry,”’ Watson said to the miniature queue of patrons waiting to deposit their china.

“‘Ceramic,”’ Holmes noted impatiently. “‘Sit down at that set of chairs there. The place is emptying, I should return with my order in three minutes.”’ He cast a glance at the register. “‘Four, it’s the cashier’s first day.”’

Watson didn’t see him walk away, nor did he feel himself cross back to the small dining area and settle into a surprisingly uncomfortable armchair. It was impossible. Sherlock Holmes had been missing from the public eye, from the entire world as far as he knew, for nearly a decade. Now within minutes of being told the man had spontaneously resurrected to join Team Speedy’s/Sussex Honey, here he was in the flesh. Watson looked around the cafe. He didn’t believe in magic or kismet or any of those mystical type things. After forty years of life, he was sure he’d know by now if there were weird crystal-swinging forces at play. But what were the odds?

“Three thousand seven hundred and eighteen.” The tap of a paper cup on the low table by his elbow punctuated Holmes’s statement. “‘Of course that’s not the actual percentage chance of us encountering each other here and now, simply the approximate number of coffee shops available assuming we were both entering one at the same time.”’

“‘That’s one massive coincidence.”’ Watson eyed Holmes in the chair beside him, sipping slowly at his own paper cup’s contents. 

“‘The universe is rarely so lazy, or so Big Brother says.”’

“‘Big Brother?”’ Watson was now only ninety percent certain he wasn’t in a movie. Or a simulation. Or whatever the thing was you were supposedly inside of. 

“‘My big brother, Mycroft. Though if he had it his way, the capital letters would be spot on. The chances of us meeting here are slim indeed, but there’s something more…why is it you—oh. I see.”’

“‘You see?”’

“‘You’ve only just found out that we’re more than distant former colleagues of a sort. Quite the coincidence after all, then.”’ Holmes took another long sip of his drink. “‘Do make a start on that before it goes cold,”’ he instructed, pointing at Watson’s cup. “‘Wasting it would be a crime.”’

Heat radiated through Watson’s palm as he wrapped his hand around the cup. The scent of fresh coffee reached him halfway to his mouth, allowing him a moment to brace himself. He never was able to drink it black, but this was hardly the time to cause offense. He could almost hear Holmes smirking from a foot away. He can’t really read minds, I must have some rude look on my face. Wouldn’t have to if he’d only asked before he went ahead and ordered for me. Haven’t even properly introduced ourselves yet.

“‘You’ll have to trust me sometime. Might as well start with my impeccable taste in coffee.”’

“‘Right, yeah. Thanks. Cheers.”’ Watson took a careful sip. Then another. Whatever this was dancing across his tongue was like no coffee he’d ever tasted. He tipped his head back a moment, unsure whether he wanted to consume it all instantly or draw it out as long as it would last.

“‘You’re not being shipped to a desert island, it’s only the Tour de France. You can have another one of these in hand in a matter of weeks.”’

“‘This is the best coffee I’ve ever had in my life. This…what even is this?”’ He strained to see the board over his shoulder. “‘That Tanzania blend thing?”’

Holmes scoffed. “‘As if a blend of the day could produce such a depth of flavor. No, John—may I call you John?”’

Watson nodded. Day was already weird, why not. 

“‘No, John, this is not a blend. Look at the wall behind the baristas, over to the left.”’

“‘I didn’t even see that before,” ’Watson said, squinting at a large apparatus. 

“‘You do see, but you do not observe. That,”’ Holmes gestured with the cup in his hand, “‘produces this. Kyoto Slow, by name.”’

“‘How does all that even work?”’

“‘Perhaps if we both make it home from Paris,”’ Holmes said, sighing into another sip, “‘I’ll walk you through it.”’

------------- //irl author's note: Kyoto Slow is an awesome Mystrade fic, highly recommend. read on AO3.

[kirkoid-music]

Swanker (Tangent Remix) - April 2009

Having discovered the joy of using vocals in music, I started to revisit some of my instrumental back catalogue to see if I could find vocals to fit. It had often bothered me that I didn't have vocals for my tracks. This was one of those times, and the track was Tangent, a track I had recorded three years previously.

A band called Drip from Manila uploaded the vocals from one of their tracks, Swanker, for a remix competition. I mixed the vocal track into Tangent, and Swanker (Tangent Remix) was born.

It's interesting how much of the track gets 'lost' or 'covered up' by the vocals. The original track had none so I had worked to keep it interesting using just the sounds. Some of this doesn't come through in the remix version the way it does in the instrumental. Because of this, I decided to keep both in my active back catalogue and include both in my Chronology.

Reviews for Swanker (Tangent Remix):

I enjoyed listening to your track - the whole vibe was pretty cool. Thanks.

[vapeandgo]

Experience the Next Generation of Vaping with Vaporesso XROS PRO

The New Vaporesso XROS PRO Kit elevates pod vaping to a pro level. Its powerful 0.4Ω pod and adjustable wattage unleash bold flavours and clouds, while AXON Super Pulse and COREX Heating Tech guarantee consistent performance. The intuitive interface and long-lasting battery make it effortless to enjoy, and its compatibility with all XROS pods adds versatility. Power through your day with the XROS PRO's massive 1200mAh battery, letting you vape for hours without worry.

[kaysha2201]

Dance for me | G-S Pro Remix

KAYSHA x KATALEYA – DANCE FOR ME | G-S PRO REMIX