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jame7t · 7 months ago

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question from someone who checked out from infinite a while ago; has 343 even added anything beyond cosmetics and forge assets in the past year? feels like anytime I see a new update it's just forge maps they're putting in the queue

as far as i know there's been like, little to nothing. Some "new" gamemodes but it's still just adding stuff from previous games. 3 years into its life cycle. The game is ostensibly on life support aside from the frequently (and loudly) updated cash shop. Like, when a game wants to be a live service, it should justify a cash shop via actual content drops. Helldivers 2 releases monthly mini battlepasses & still manages numerous free content drops each month. Plus, it's prices are not absolutely divorced from reality. Sure, Helldivers is also 40 dollars, but it was a complete game on release and Helldivers' cash shop respects the fact that i've paid 40 bucks already.

Like, here's a wonderful selection from Halo Infinite's cash shop during the flood event:

These are 20-22 dollar armor sets. Also, Halo Infinite is "Free to play" but the campaign alone is still 60 bucks. "Okay, so the campaign being separate from multiplayer means those 60 bucks means a much larger campaign, right? No, because of course it doesn't. Halo infinite's campaign is technically larger in the sense that it has wider areas, but with less enemy variety, a complete lack of dynamic set pieces, literally three types of environment, & kind of a shit sandbox compared to previous games, it feels MUCH smaller. So, I paid 60 bucks for Halo, and because Halo says anyone can play for free now, all the people who bought campaign are now also stuck with the free to play prices, which is terrible. Also, to reiterate: Why are there 20 dollar armor sets in a game. why do you get to pay 22 dollars to havbe the flood shit on you. these items are priced like the game gets actual updates. Halo infinite has not received a (fun) new weapon since launch. (They added the bandit, which is a scope-less DMR from previous halo games, then added the bandit EVO, which is a variant so boring that i refused to google the difference at the time of writing this.) Anyway, Helldivers 2 cash shop costs like 2-3 bucks for armor sets, some show up cheaper. And the currency you buy them with? Incredibly easy to earn.

sorry for doing my gaming rant. if you want we can call it an infodump & we can pretend i said all this on the lap of a cooing milf who is voluptious &cares deeply about how mad i am at video games

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thehistoriangirl · 6 months ago

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The Tides Have Veiled [Seventeen]

My lame excuse is that in my heart it's still Mermay 🤡 I'm OSOSOSOSO SORRY FOR THE DELAY I hope you like it 😭

Viktor x Fem! Reader-----/Gothic AU/Haunted Sea/---1.7K----SFW*

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Synopsis: Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both buildings are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: You finally discover who cries at the bottom of the cliff, wishing that you would've never known.

Tags and CW: Implied Thalassophobia | Mentions of Death (Drowning) | Ghosts | Body Horror | Fluff <3

Taglist: @lunar-monster @local-mr-frog @bittercyder @blissfulip @ihopeinevergetsoberr @ultimateslasherfan @beeblybub

Seventeen: And They Whispered

Amidst the abyss he floated like a ghost, almost far enough for his silhouette to blend in with the water as if he were made of it. One of them.

They, the ones with empty eyes whose heads tilted to the side, gills open in a perpetual inhale. Mocking defiance at your inability to belong to this world that called you so desperately.

A congregation of death carved in grey, rubbery skin that once would’ve been smooth to the touch, now mapped with scars. Statues with piercing gazes collected at your figure, dying bubbles tearing out your throat.

I won’t be one of them, I won’t, I won’t, I won’t.

Your lungs felt like collapsing, vision blurred with black dots of unconsciousness that blended in with the unsurmountable bottom of the sea that now opened like a gargantuan mouth ready to devour you whole.

Or perhaps it had already done so, and this would be your intimate hell—like all those nightmares piled up, the same hollow pression in your chest.

You’re already one, the abyss said to you in that old, unforgiving tone of a disappointed parent.

Is that my mother? You thought. She’s waiting for me down here.

Darkness pulled you under, and you felt your being tethered in a limbo where you had forgotten where salvation was and where ruination. If it was even an exit here, because , the sea’s call was always going to be there, whispering you to come home.

Home. Such a strange word slipping out your blue lips, that now flashed golden like the halo of an angel, the ray of sunshine penetrating this abyss for it to retreat until the moon hung again in the sky.

Golden like Viktor’s eyes: a pair of twin stars showing you the way back. Like the lighthouse that blinked, bleeding beacon. How could the currents had made you travel so far. Forever pulling you toward Piltover, toward that damned coast that would see you die one day.

But thanks to the light you saw Viktor’s silhouette, enveloped in a whirlpool—in the whirlpool by the cliffside—, kicking desperately against the hungry waves trying to sink him in. Underwater the sound traveled different; the incorporeal echo of something that could far away, or right next to you. Distorted, broken, almost.

Yet you could hear your name, once the velvet-like, hushed tone of his voice tore in desperation.

Your legs kicked, arms wading, trapped in formaldehyde like those specimens in Viktor’s underground office. The even blue tone of the ocean expanding toward the infinite, fingers stretched until your cold muscles started shaking, pale and… lifeless.

You couldn’t feel Viktor’s pull once you barely brushed his ankle. Hands frantically searching hands, both freezing cold but solid. Real. He helped you break into the surface, and you swam with him hugged against your side, his forced breathing the only thing warming up your body.

From this angle, the face of the cliff looked cruel, damaged. Spiky rocks raising above water like rabid teeth for the foam left behind by the waves incessantly slamming against the rock, wishing it could just bend already, that it would save it more pain. The suffering that came along with survival, now in the burning feeling of your lungs every time you inhaled, the strain in your flesh that denied to give another kick, another push toward the thin coastline.

The rocks scrapped your knees, Viktor’s arms so ready to pull you back against him once you had fallen behind thanks to a treacherous current.

“I won’t let you go,” he breathed, rosy cheeks from the cold. “Just a few more meters. Come on. Let’s swim in sync. One, two, three—”

There is a point where the sound is so familiar to you, that your brain mutes it, as if to tell you that there are other things you must focus on. Now, the sound of clashing waves disappeared, still with foam slipping through your fingers like that mermaid blood from the legends. Replaced by wails.

The cry of the cliff.

You couldn’t help yourself, looking around for that plea that broke your heart and reverberated inside your bones like a curse. The ever-present reminder that you almost fall for it.

Between the mossy rocks the shadows drew exaggerated angles and impossible forms, but you saw it clearly. The sketch of a human life— erased and deformed by the sea, just visible in the corner of your eye, huddled in one of the makeshift caves formed by the sea.

A ragged ball of grey and green, with long, tangled hair falling down the hollow like a twisted rope, filled with debris and algae. White-porcelain, inhuman, swollen skin showing drowned limbs folded at the wrong directions. Between the tangles of hair, you saw a human face, dark mouth opened in a desperate wail and then falling into silence, black lips not closing properly as there’s black substance coming out from them.

She was crying, her body perpetually damp and drowned that you couldn’t distinguish her tears. All lost to the sea.

For a moment, you wondered if her tears were the one that made the seawater so salty, if somehow you were sailing in her sorrow, a curse that didn’t let you go away from her misery. Because misery liked to drag down everything and everyone at her feet.

You clutched Viktor closer, between a scream and a sob trapped up your throat, threating to steal your breathing. Another wave crashing against you two, sinking you, its claws wishing to drag you toward the whirlpool mere meters away.

When you passed by the cave in the wall, you felt her watch you. White scleras contrasting against the bleak dark hair framing her deformed, violented face where the rocks may had cut her when she fell. When she jumped. Now but covered in black moss as if she were part of the cliffside wall, too.

I won’t be one of them, you reminded yourself, the grounding sensation of sand under your feet almost making you succumb to exhaustion. To the merciless gaze of all those who had fallen at this bottomless grave, to all those monsters you were still yet to see.

You rose to the surface, wanting to tear the waves away and part the cursed, greedy sea. You had a promise to fulfill, carrying Viktor next to you in an almost limping manner.

You’re already one, a new voice whispered, mixed with the horrific scream of the cliff—of this woman—with her voice chords broken, the ragged, uneven sound flowing much longer than it’ll be possible to. But it was, just as it was possible for you two to survive underwater for so long.

“Viktor,” you called, voice sore and barely above a mutter. The sand absorbed your hand while you crawl your way up toward the edge of the cliff, hoping than in this corner either the vengeful ghost could reach you, either the crying woman. “Viktor…”

Unresponsive, Viktor’s body felt like a rag atop your body. A puppet whose strings had cut too soon. With your shaky hands it was impossible to take his pulse, and the stupid cries didn’t make possible to lean down his mouth and hear if he still breathed.

He looked so pale, yet you weren’t ready to give up so easily. You had promised to see him again, to save him. Whatever that meant.

You weren’t letting the sea win.

Your eyes fluttered close, pressing your ear against his chest, your fingertips above his upper lip to catch any sign of breath. Almost laying atop him.

“Viktor…” you whispered, your voice breaking in a shaky whisper. Please don’t leave me. The lighthouse will feel so empty; and your house even bigger without the echo of your cane through the hallways. The house will stop having its heartbeat. “Please don’t leave me.”

His lips were the brush of a feather against your fingers, gently saying your name.

“Viktor!” you gasped, not even thinking twice to hug him, caging him under your body while he nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck.

His hand soothed circles in your back, sweet nothings drowning the mournful sound you didn’t have to share with the woman today.

“It’s you,” he mumbled, his blue lips barely opening to utter the words. Curved in the smallest, most precious of smiles.

You leaned against him, golden eyes flashing with the vivid light of the beacon; rough fingertips cradling, memorizing every feature of your face.

“It’s really you,” Viktor said, his breath drawing a mist cloud toward the sky. Gently, his fingers tipped your chin upwards. A silent question you were just as willing to answer.

His lips were cold and dry, although the reason you shivered is another; for the sudden warmth running through your veins when your tongue meets his in a sheepish, slow dance that had yet to settle a rhythm.

“It’s really me,” you couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling his lithe body under yours, pressed in all the correct places.

Viktor cupped your cheek, elegant fingers carefully taking the rebels locks of hair to put them behind your ear in a swift motion, as if he had done this a million times before. “I won’t leave you. I promise.”

With shaking arms, he incorporated in his forearms if only to reach your lips once again, soaking in the warmth starting to irradiate of your bodies, a shield from the upcoming cold dawn that already sketched the grey horizon. His hand held the back of your neck, fingers played with your scalp, cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in this world of twisted wonders.

“I saw who cries in the cliff at night,” you muttered, body cuddled against him in the makeshift cave. The sky was bleeding from another newborn day, making the waves rubies and burning coals. “She saw me. And I looked at her back.”

Viktor hugged your waist, his hands resting on your hips. Your name was uttered so softly from his lips, and you were almost going to lost yourself in his voice, in his lips. But you couldn’t. You needed to say it.

“She looks just like me.”

#viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor fanfic #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #viktor x you

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noellevanious · 18 days ago

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big team battle in halo infinite is so fun. too bad apparently the only map designer for btb is obsessed with giant forests and chasms

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possibilistfanfiction · 2 years ago

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Prompt: “please stay”

it's rained more lately in los angeles than you ever imagined it would; you've been to the desert and lived through a summer here, the haze in the air and mirage on the pavement and a few days where it just never cooled off. but it's dreary and damp lately, parts of the city flooding, puddles everywhere. cold winds have blown in overnight, swathes of loose palm bark in your yard when you had looked outside.

it's still cold and stormy; the sea, you're sure, is angry outside — grey and infinite in its depth. most days, the wonder of the world sits in your wrists, in the junctures there, in the small bones beatrice knows all the names of. most days, the wonder is in everything: the orange poppies blooming along the hillside, and the perfect amount of lime in good guacamole, and the way beatrice tastes like cinnamon when you kiss her in the afternoon, lazily, like you've always had time.

but some days it sits heavy along your spine: you spent an eternity — eight months, earthside, but you don't know how to measure that, not really — in darkness, in nothingness, in white space so bright your eyes burned.

you didn't sleep, or eat, not like here. the halo in your back burnt and burnt and burnt, and the divinium through your organs, taken out by unknown hands, had left gaping, excruciating wounds, which eventually, because you stayed so, so still, turned into painful, barely-healed scars, half shrapnel, half burn. there was nothing, and you were nothing, and you missed your mom and your sisters and your friends and beatrice, with her steady shoulders and her reluctant laugh and her gold eyes.

it's still dark, still early, the dawn inky blue outside, stretching as a bruise against the pale skin of the sand. you roll over in your big bed — safe, piled with a soft white linen duvet; a mattress that beatrice had ordered specifically for your spine after consulting jillian and then making a spreadsheet of pros and cons between different brands and models — and take a deep breath. it's here, and it's now, you remind yourself, touch your fingers to the worst of the divinium scars, puckered along your right ribs. you place the palm of your hand against the worst of it, the opposite of stigmata, maybe, and breathe into it, let your chest expand all the way into your belly, all the way down your spine, filling your heartspace.

and then you look at beatrice, the duvet down around the middle of her bare back. the tan of her skin from the sun, the black tattoo down her spine, her hair — short and dark and messy — and the peaceful planes of her face, delicate despite it all. calm, and unworried, the bow of her lips and the freckles across her cheeks. she had told you, excitedly last night, how incredible the swells were supposed to be this morning, because of the storm, but you look at her and you think of riptides and not being able to swim and how this world, this life, bold and bright, wouldn't be much different for you than nothingness if anything happened to her. if she wasn't here with you, to eat really good ramen and grumble her way through terrible movies and steadfastly do the laundry.

you scoot closer to her, drape an arm across her waist and kiss between her shoulder blades. you've learned that bea is easy to awaken but almost impossible to really wake up when she feels relaxed and safe — but sometimes you think you know each other differently than anyone, a familiarity that has saved the world a few times over. in one of the classes you audited — philosophy, which had mostly been awful and full of gross white dudes — you had learned that recognize meant, really, to know again. to know again, and again, and again, like the veins mapped across the backs of your hands or the hue of a lover's eyes.

she stirs and blinks awake, slowly, and there they are: brown, so smart, with flecks of gold that light up in the sun, that you know even in the dark dawn.

'ava, are you okay?'

her voice is rough with sleep and slow and beautiful. you're so, so greedy, wanting this life and the next with her. you wouldn't renounce it for anything. kingdoms and realms could fall at your feet before you said anything of the sort.

'please don't go surfing this morning.' your voice is a little wobbly and she shifts onto her side, fully, to face you, concern etching a line between her brows. she looks around blearily, her features and posture sharpening in a split second.

'did something happen?'

'no,' you say, and leave the but something could alone; something always could. instead, 'i just — it's stormy, and i want to sleep in with you here.' let me love you like this, you think, and press your lips to the scar on her shoulder before you rest your forehead against hers, run a gentle hand through her hair. let me keep you safe. let me keep you warm, in this room in this bed in this house in this city of angels where nothing can hurt you, where i won't let anything touch you, not ever again. let me wake up to you again and again and again.

she doesn't fully believe you, that it's nothing, but she relents easily enough, trusting that you'll tell her if you need.

'please stay.'

she sighs, kisses you, touches the same scar against your ribs. 'okay,' she says, just like that, and you breathe into the palm of her hand.

#this is exclusively bc there's been more rain this winter in LA than i have ever seen it's wild & DELIGHTFUL but yknow. vibes #avatrice #avatrice fic #wn #warrior nun fic #prompts #butch bea 🥺🫡#i guess it's in that universe lol no real content here in that regard but it's cool #ava's gotta be fucked up a LITTLE u know #anyway sky full of song ‘in a city without seasons / it keeps raining in LA’#me rn

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calico-strawberry · 1 year ago

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I like the guy on the enemy team who got a Nightmare medal by camping at their base with the tank gun and a sniper losing in a steaktacular because they never left to help their teammates capture the points

#listen getting high killing sprees with power stuff isn't unheard of but at least help your teammates while doing that #like if i go on a rampage with a wraith im at least running distractions or actually pushing the points/flag #except on valhalla that map sucks for pushing with the wraith #lemon plays #halo infinite

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razgrizgirl · 10 months ago

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Halo Wars 2 poster in hidden room on the new Infinite map Illusion

#halo #halo video game #halo game #halo infinite #halo sangheili #sangheili #halo wars 2 #halo art

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thelvadams · 17 days ago

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> fortnite OG > apex legends classic > overwatch classic > nuketown in black ops 6 > halo 2 maps in halo infinite

everything old is new again

#i'm a sucker for days gone by what can i say #fortnite #overwatch #apex legends #halo #call of duty

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staryoshi06 · 1 year ago

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⭐️Really such a lost opportunity to not have the Flood in Halo Infinite, especially since it was open world. Could have really recalled Halo CE with a midgame reveal.

Imagine the flood getting unleashed during a linear mission. Then, you return to the open world and watch as your captured fobs on the map disappear and get replaced with sickly green icons. Banished bases reappear, repopulated with the horrid new enemy. New squads under attack appear all over. Welcome to the second half of the game.

#halo infinite #halo

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holyshonks · 1 year ago

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📷🖤👽💘

📷 - 'aesthetic' photo you associate a halo character with

I had to think about this one since I'm not really one for this. Maybe this is cheating, but--

this is a really pretty new map in Infinite that is supposed to be a blamite mine on Suban, one of Sanghelios' moons. I really love this crystal cave--I always wind up there even if it's not strategically sound ;)

Nizat is from Suban, so we'll give this one to him 😂

What's the aesthetic? idk, we'll call it needlercore

🖤 - least favourite halo character?

This one is hard because there are levels to this. There are evil Halo characters who I still love because I find them to be compelling (Parangosky, Truth). My personal least favorite are probably characters who fall flat or who i think don't really add anything to the franchise. Harbinger is on that list. Fireteam Majestic is also there. Locke is giving nothing.

👽 - favourite covenant species?

Spaghettis . I am not immune to big, tall, warrior aliens.

💘 - favourite canon/fanon ship?

This one is fanon--Usze and Vale!

If you don't know them, Usze went with the Arbiter and Master Chief on their mission to the Ark. He is now one of the Arbiter's most loyal allies. Vale is a Spartan-IV xenoanthropologist with a particular interest in the Sangheili. They met on a joint mission to the Ark following the war, and get along well.

I like their dynamic of a really enthusiastic dork with a serious person who is completely unused to it. She can read him like a book (she immediately gets him to tell her his life's story by appealing to his ego) and he has no idea what to make of her. Vale is very open about her interest in Sangheili culture whereas Usze refused to sit down in front of her for a while to show off how he was always battle ready.

And even in the short time they appear together, their relationship changes into one of mutual respect (and he rescues her by fireman carrying her, because of course he does). In the end, he goes out of his way to find her and comfort her after a perceived failure and--gasp!--sits.

I just think they're neat. and Vale lives on Sanghelios now if 343 ever wants to let me eat FOR ONCE

#thank u <3

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