#ubi soft

[gebo4482]

Star Wars™ Outlaws | Launching with DLSS 3, Ray Tracing & Reflex

Website

[numberxxisora]

Also today, we try out another boxing game with some more memorable fighters in this ring.

[classic-games]

Street Racer

Developer: Vivid Image    Publisher: Ubi Soft    Release: 94    Genre: Racing Super Mario Kart was the bestselling racing game of its generation. At just under 9 million copies sold it was also one of the bestselling SNES games of all time. With that popularity in mind it is surprising there were so few games “inspired” by it in the West. Japan was inundated with kart racers on the Super Famicom…

[retropolitan]

Jetzt schnell noch beim Weihnachts-Gewinnspiel von vor 15 Jahren mitmachen!

Sollte auch noch rechtzeitig sein. Also zumindest kann ich nirgens was von "Einsende-" oder "Teilnahmeschluss" lesen. Also dann: Schnell noch eine Postkarte zur Post gebracht und hoffen, dass man unter den glücklichen Gewinnern ist.

Ich hätte übrigens am liebsten (die Spiele und ein Lenkrad habe ich schon) das Tremor Pak Plus, die Mission: Impossible - Uhr oder den Buck Bumble - Pappaufsteller.

(Bildquelle: N-Zone - Magazin, Ausgabe: Dezember 1998)

[troublemakingrebel]

[nerflufser]

I GOT MY CLH BOOK YAYAYYAYAYYAYAYAYYA

[buffetlicious]

My snack of Kueh Bingka Ubi or Baked Tapioca/Cassava Cake (烤木薯糕) with a cup of less sweet milk tea. This traditional Malay/Nyonya kuih (kueh) is semi-soft, chewy and fragrant. It has an inviting aroma from the pandan leaves, eggs and coconut milk. More importantly it’s extremely easy to make and it’s delicious.

[itbe-jess]

I would give Rayman Origins and Legends the same amount of praise as other Rayman games if not for the misogyny. For one, Betilla and the nymphs are extremely oversexualized. They’re really just in there for no purpose other than to make straight men nut. I mean, if you remove them entirely from the game, nothing will change. Worse, Rayman Origins is supposed to be a friendly-friendly title. And why couldn’t they just keep Betilla’s original outfit, which looks like aesthetically mystical in my opinion.

And the trailer…. WHHHHHHHHY, UBI SOFT?! Betilla created Rayman, and breathed life into him, which means she’s practically his mother figure! That one bit from the trailer wasn’t funny or quirky. 🤢 Probably the most disturbing thing to come out of a Rayman campaign since Huge Features.

For Rayman Legends, I’m glad they removed the nymphs and introduced a strong cartoony human girl. But my only complaint with Barbara is that she’s designed with large almost exposed bazookas. She’s a fucking no-nonsense warrior! It would hurt to have your titties bouncing all over the place! I would suggest completely covering them up for full support, or at least give her protective armor pieces! Nowadays, Ubi Soft cannot design a powerful woman without sexualizing her. Times like this makes me wish Rayman would get adopted by a different gaming company that will treat his franchise right.

[nautoais211dx]

Breaking News: E3 2023 - Is Officially Cancelled!

Breaking news, credit to IGN, E3 2023 officially cancelled. Not surprising since some companies are already pulling out.

As for my Summer Games Special, nothing much, just the same as last year, although this June will be the 15th anniversary of the MmGS.

[yodaprod]

Zombi, UBI Soft PC DOS (1988)

[wxiao0]

Guys!! I just finished watching Captain Laserhawk and the plot never stops flowing into my head! Eeekk

Summary: Desmond yeeted or yote? Whatever into the Captain Laserhawk universe after he died to save the world (thank Ubi). In the corgi hybrid from because why not? Even in the show they have assassin bullfrog (he is the precious thing don’t you dare) why can’t we? And yeah Desmond he can change back to human from because the Isu bullshit brought with him, But there is a limited time.

The first thing when he touch The Eyes it was pain It was like it was burning from both outside and inside.

And after that it was darkness, he didn’t know how much time had passed. He can thought but he can’t feel. It’s cold or hot, it’s hard or soft ,he in the narrow coffin or floating in endless space.

Ha can’t feel anything.

But recently he feel like he was pulled into the blackhole. It was extremely fucking painful, as if his body had turned into spaghetti.

And the loud ‘THUD’ makes his body remember the pain again. He jumped up, the back that hit the ground still felt a slight pain. He tried to reach out to scratch his back but failed.

What?

He try to reach out and failed.

AGAIN

What?!?!

When Desmond looking down at his own hands, he saw.

A paw!?, no not paw but paws!

What the shit!!!!

Desmond tried to collect himself. Ok, breathe in breath out, in and out, in and out. Alright, he look around him look like he’s in an alley somewhere, It's all wet. And there was a smell of garbage everywhere. Well, he's sitting on a garbage bag that’s why.

He climbed out, nearly slipping because of a nearby puddle of sewage. He looked down examining his shirt, It was the same as the shirt he wore that day. His right arm, uh, or front leg? Covered with completely black fur. Meanwhile, his entire body was covered in orange and white fur.

Desmond felt his left ear twitch as he heard a man yelling from outside the alley he was in. He peeked out from the corner and saw two men, one with white hair, leaning against the wall before rushing to pick up the other man who didn't look too good. His right eye was replaced by a machine. The left arm was replaced with a mechanical arm.

That guy looked like something out of a sci-fi movie where the main character was a cyborg. Yeah…definitely. His ears perked up when white hair guy carry cyborg man is going to pass him by. He hurriedly hid himself with his instinct behind a large garbage bag.

He activated his eagle vision and saw the two people passing by. Surprisingly, he saw that the two men were faintly golden, almost invisible. It was as if they were important to Desmond in some way.

He blinked, his eyes turning brown again. Desmond rubbed a paw over his face before groaning lowly.

Ugh

Welp, life never gonna be easy to Desmond Miles.

[classic-games]

XIII

Developer: Ubi Soft    Publisher: Ubi Soft    Release: 11/25/03   Genre: FPS In 2003 the first person had not reached its saturation point yet. But you still needed to do something different to stand out. Ubi Soft licensed the French comic book XIII and gifted the game with a cel shaded look that is still unique in the genre today. But while the game may look distinct its gameplay is very…

[saynogrumpy]

DANI. AND CLARA. HOLDING HANDS. I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT THEM AND THIS ART. Look at them. Bein Gay and in love. I will hang this art up in my imaginary 'for rainy days' shrine. (....might eat it too). Your colors are so lovely!! And? Dani's expression?? I am soft. Also? I decided that this is my canon now. Dani and Clara got to live happily ever after and hold hands and kiss

I ALSO WANT them to hold hands and be happy forever… The reality that Ubi gave us is so harsh 😭 Thank you sm for your comment❤️❤️

[dateamonster]

i believe ive shared this thing once before in one form or another. in case i havent, this is a sorta rework of a poem i wrote maybe five years ago while i was reading "Letters from an American Farmer" by (deep breath) J. Hector St. John de Crèvecœur for a class on colonial american literature. the names an obvious giveaway but i still like it.

anyway, i thought itd be fun to the text an accompanying visual element this time around. like i said, the writing is old, so cut me some slack. 

also its horror so you know proceed with caution.

plain text under the cut

Letters from the Last American Farmer

Frontiersmen do their souls neglect,

Turned to trappings, metal bound.

Hid away from the Elect,

Noses pressed against the ground.

From hand to mouth- the path’s direct.

I’ll stand apart and hold my worth,

A farmer be, and earn respect;

I till the soil, turn the earth.

Who is he, the favored son,

Who raises up the fruit and grain?

And works until the day is done,

And come the harvest reaps the gain.

This is he- I’ll be the one

To give my life to righteous toil.

I wield the pitchfork, not the gun;

I turn the earth and till the soil.

Proclaim the men from off the docks,

“Ubi panis ibi patria”

And to her fortunes they will flock

In love of fair Columbia.

Perhaps it comes to you a shock

Or else a simple source of mirth

But this pride you mustn’t mock;

I till the soil, turn the earth.

The silver hand of Justice fair

Does lightly steer the citizen,

Brush’d his cheek, as soft as air

With good will towards his countrymen.

And although we know it rare

To her blind axiom we’re loyal.

For sanctum from the noble glares

I turn the earth and till the soil.

The story’s whispered, be it true,

Often is it I have heard

Although he’s swaddled in the glue,

Tar and feathers make no bird.

No wings, no eyes, yet high he flew,

The rope raised up a deathly girth,

And bid, as I, this soft adieu:

I till the soil, turn the earth.

The snake pursues me, long and white.

Its doubts do pull me from the fold

To embark into the night,

To embark into the cold.

Far to the West they say there’s light.

Though ill-bred souls may curse and roil

Like gold, my virtue still shines bright;

I turn the earth and till the soil.

The land’s the heart and heart’s my own.

With little cabin, hearth, and fire,

I make this wilderness my home

And faithfully snuff my desire

For meat that melts clean from the bone.

I’ll overcome the winter’s dearth

If God’s good graces He may loan.

I till the soil, turn the earth.

Desolation scrapes my spirit,

The rifle shakes within my grip,

An anthem’s sung- I cannot hear it,

Teeth set upon my trembling lip.

Do in my labours I promerit?

Or show some moral split or spoil?

The end is nigh and as I near it

I turn the earth and till the soil.

One final verse I will extend

As cold and hunger overtakes

In hopes that you, my final friend,

Perhaps may learn from my mistakes.

Here all is ruin, all shall rend

Revolutions come unbirthed,

Yet compelled am I to tend

And till the soil, turn the earth.

Till the soil, turn the earth.

Till the soil, turn the earth.

Till the soil, turn the earth.

[manorpunk]

You have arrived at the central plaza of Concordia.

It is, you must admit, quite pleasant: row houses and squat three-story apartment buildings, corner stores and little brick shops, public terminal boards announcing local legislation and upcoming holidays. It is not a vision of Parisian grandeur. More than anything else, it feels livable, like you are a seed planted in rich, fertile soil.

You take a short walk - the 1.8 square mile central plaza is a strictly enforced car-free zone - to reach the manor of Duke Alba HueyDong Rider. You are greeted by a femboy maid. His hair is short and soft, like the rest of him, and the edge of his frilled uniform swishes and sways with each movement. He is, you notice, wearing thick black combat boots.

“Did you have an appointment?” he asks with a slight bow and a smile. It is a piercing smile, wide and genuine, the kind of smile that seems too good to be true.

You nod. The maid checks through his tabule to confirm your name, and you are led to the reception area. It is austere, with white walls and wooden furniture. Another femboy maid provides you with a complimentary mug of tea.

All of the femboy maids are friendly, polite, and attractive in a way that makes you feel like some sinful beast watching angels through a peephole. You sip your tea and wait. Hanging next to you on the wall is another terminal board, scrolling through a handful of news articles regarding Duke Rider.

“Tilling The Ashes: How One Man Found Peace and Prosperity on America’s Most Complex Border.”

“Duke Rider: A New Future for The Midwest? Concordia thrives under co-ownership principles and Rider’s unique style.”

“Celebrity-Statesman Duke Rider comments on sexual abuse allegations: ‘When I pay to have sex with consenting adults, nobody bats an eye. But I give those same consenting adults room and board - in a prime location, by the by - and suddenly it’s ‘sex slavery’ and ‘harems’ and ‘[CENSORED].’ It’s ridiculous.”

You feel a prickle on the back of your neck. You turn and see a third femboy maid.

“Ever heard the full story about that?” he asks, with the same smile as all the others.

You have not.

“He was taking the fall for Sunny Roosevelt. Thanks to the scandal, her agreement to extend the Qingdao Accord got pushed off the front page.”

The Qingdao Accords. One of things that everyone has strong opinions about, but only a few people are brave or insane enough to fully understand. You don’t know the details, of course, but you know it has something to do with the GLN (Global Logistics Network).

The GLN is so massive and all-consuming that attempting to explain it feels like trying to explain the air. The GLN is an intercontinental consortium that manages infrastructure, shipping, and logistics for a good half of the earth’s population. They make sure that the lights stay on, the ships arrive on time, and the people can cash their UBI checks, all over the world. The GLN answers only to a tangled network of third-party oversight committees, meaning they are a functionally independent global organization. They are, you have heard, the world’s true seat of power. From their perch up in the heavens, even presidents and prime ministers seem like mere content creators, putting on a song and dance for people to watch on the weekends.

Your time arrives. You are ushered in to speak with Duke Rider.

He is an albino. There are rumors that he was a test subject for tailored DNA modifications. The details are always different - his embryo was a plaything for a god-complex billionaire, or a eugenicist researcher, or the CIA just dicking around - but the story always ends with some failure or embarrassment and the whole project being swept under the rug.

He is thirty-seven. Quick math tells you he was born around 2032. It makes the rumors more believable. The thirties, you have heard, were insane.

His bearing makes it even more believable. He has the brooding, needy, grandiose confidence of a liminal creature. He is dressed like a puffed-up military peacock, in a verdant green coat with long tails, a cape that reaches down to his ankles, and a sheathed cavalry saber hitched around his belt.

He clears his throat, then speaks. His voice is warm and familiar, like a skilled lecturer or streamer.

“I am gladdened by your interest in the past, and honored that you came to me to satisfy that interest. I was raised to be a humble Midwestern boy, you see, and to attribute no boons to my nature, lest those boons reveal themselves to be mere pomposity. I did so for many silent years, until I received the blessed vision of Class Consciousness, and like all who have received this enlightenment, I have been compelled to proselytize. Unless there is anything you wish to ask, we shall begin with the 2020s.”

[cuprohastes]

Hills to die on

If it's a JPEG or PNG it's not HDR. It's just tone mapping.

JPEG needs taking out back and euthanising. There are better formats and have been for like 15 years.

In any situation where there is a clearly better option, someone will contrive a way to fuck the situation up so massively that everyone will just keep using the shitty scenario. That someone is usually Sony.

GIMP and people who promote GIMP to unsuspecting would-be artists has done more to harm digital art than the cost of buying all the hardware.

Discord sucks ass. It won't ever not suck.

It doesn't matter what Android can do or how customisable it is, if you e.g. get a Samsung it's going to be so larded down with crap and cruft that any benefits over iOS will be lost.

Windows is not better than MacOS.

MacOS is not better than Windows.

Both are better than any Linux install that isn't running on a tablet.

For drawing, sketching, painting and generally enjoying things, an iPad with a ludicrously overpriced stylus is way better than a full PC with a Wacom...

... and the tablet's a better way to enjoy media.

Customer service agents are not paid enough

Customer service agents should be allowed to say "Jesus fucking Christ I asked what the problem is, not 'Tell me about your day' Shut. The. Fuck . Up. Now what is the problem. 6 words or less, or I'm hanging up and blocking your number".

CSATs and NPS are astrology anti-vax conspiracy theories for middle management. They're deeply flawed, harmful to everyone involved, a huge pain in the ass, and nobody wants to deal with them... apart from some middle manager who firmly believes they can boil down a human being and their entire job to two numbers every month.

Billionaires and politicians should be tried every year and if found guilty of being utter shits, be wired up for life support and encased in amber, and displayed to the public along with a list of the bad shit they've done. I firmly believe that these dinguses will see their comerades frozen mid scream in a big block of resin, while a machine keeps them alive in permanent hellish torture and still do the stupid things they do.

Nobody likes soft mozarella as much as block mozarella.

UBI and free cheese would probably solve almost all problems.

Nestlé are now so evil they're just doing it to see how far they can push things before anyone actually does something other than tut-tutting.

Most politicians should be guillotined.