#I take the art style and inject it into my veins

[reyryz]

i got the knb art book and its rlly cool so i did an aomine redraw for fun

[marihem]

Hiiiiiiii!!! I need your frans AUs injected into my veins POST HASTE. I'm lowkey missing your Roommate AU rn! Your probs super busy with art and comms, but I'd love to hear about any of your head canons for how their specific story goes and if they'll ever realize their affections for each other (if ever)

AAAAAWWWWW I'm really glad to hear that dear anon 🥹🥹 Thank you for thinking about them even while I'm on a break from them ^^ (unbelievable, what kind of a parent am I smh). I am indeed a tad bit busy with the comms but it's mostly because I'm juggling with college works on the side...or rather it's the comm works that should be the side work, you know, priorities. And also because I'm a hella slow drawer that it's actually painful to see how damm slow I am haha

Aaahh Roommate Banter AU...to set the scene, it takes place in a universe where there wasn't any war between monsters and humans and they've always lived in cohesive (like Deltarune). Frisk is an adopted child of Asgore and Toriel Dreemurr who are now seperated (lol) but are on good terms. Frisk is closer to Asgore who's the mayor of their small town which motivated them to pursue in Political Science. Sans and Papyrus are just orphans who, after some hard work, live stably in their home and jobs. Frisk and Sans were in the same neighborhood for a long time and in later events, they both decided to rent an apartment together that is near Frisk's university (going back for Master's in political science) and Sans' job (intern at the Ebbott City Lab). And they were roommates...(please say the Line for me)

And honestly, I don't have any plans of a story for this AU. This is more of a slice of life style thing with no plot. I could go into stuff about the Sans' job at the Lab and what Frisk does with their knowledge to contribute to upgrading their town and community together with Asgore. But I'm too dumb for that and all I wanna focus on is these two lil guys. Maybe they will recognise their affection for each other some day and do something about it but until then, this is what you'll have. Because I'm a lover of slow burn who lives for the build ups and times before the getting-together, who thinks a slow burn should take 150k words MINIMUM (still haven't gotten it), all you'll get from me is the prankings, the pinings, the bickerings, annoying roommate moments, etc etc. with no plan for them get together :3 I'm sorry! ✋️✋️

Anyways thank you for being interested in my blorbos ^^ I had to make a doodle for you! I wish you a wonderful day/night pal <3

[autumn816]

💗 gewis <3333333

This scene is heavily inspired by this art by the talented @chamberkat who was nice enough to let me write this.

Set in this Band AU.

—

George stirs awake to the melancholy of Cigarettes After Sex. He blinks groggily, his lashes a heavier weight from the sleepiness still stuck to them. He stretches, a familiar soreness making itself known. He welcomes it with open arms. The warmth on his upper body pulls him away from sleep gently. 

George turns his head, planting his other cheek to the pillow, his hair tickling his arm. His breath catches in his throat. 

Lewis is sitting with his boxers on at the edge of the bed, his back towards George. Right in front of the setting sun. The light filters through the large windows, casting a warm, amber glow that highlights every detail of the room, casting on the white linens of the bed to the walls shimmering like aged parchment.  

A canvas brushed with liquid gold. 

The flutter in George’s stomach is a mirror of the drawn curtains fluttering by the chilly breeze coming through the open window.

Do what your heart desires 

Love is always strange when it just starts

George reckons Anna Ancher would love this if she were to be alive. The Danish artist is probably the closest thing that could capture Lewis’ beauty through her impressionist style of painting.

The big cross in the middle of Lewis’ back embraced by the angel wings and the looped phrase on top “Still I Rise,” a visual representation of what he injected in his veins. The golden light only accentuates the intricate tattoos more. 

The later morning-early afternoon comes to him in flashes. He came over to have a guitar lesson from Lewis. But they ended up having brunch before the guitar lesson. And it was a lesson just in the name of it. All he learned was how much Lewis liked having his hands on George. There’s only so much self-control George has. 

When Sebastian had asked the Twitch Quartet if they would be interested in being their opening act for the reunion tour, he never expected himself to end where he is right now. In Lewis’ bed, naked and fucked out. But it works. This little arrangement they have together. 

Lewis places his hands flat against the mattress behind him and leans back a little, his muscles flexing and straining under the weight. George grips his fingers tighter around his wrist. 

The burnt, acrid aroma fills the air. They shouldn’t smoke. Their line of work is completely dependent on their voices. They still indulge in it once in a while. 

Laying in the sun 

Never need to tell me when you come

Because you know that I can just feel it

“Nice nap?” The sudden question startles George. He doesn’t think he made any noise to make Lewis aware that he is awake so he isn’t sure how the other singer knew. 

Lewis is still watching the sun through the window, taking another drag before exhaling it. 

“Yeah,” George whispers, a shiver running down his spine as a chilly breeze washes over him. 

You’re the only good thing in my life ends. The melody of K begins. It takes George a few chords in to remember which song it is. 

We had made love earlier that day with no strings attached 

But I could tell that something had changed how you looked at me then

Lewis tilts his head halfway, a braid tucked behind his ear while another one hangs loose. 

George’s heart stutters as their eyes connect suddenly. 

“You want a hit?”

George rises up slowly, the blanket still covering his bare legs, and twists his upper body sideways, inclining ahead. Lewis leans forward, his chest angled towards George. The joint fits between Lewis’ forefinger and middle finger, palm side towards him. 

The smoke drifts lazily in the air, creating a haze between them. It blurs out some of Lewis’ features that George knows by heart. 

George’s thoughts swirl, like the smoke in the room. With each passing second, it starts to dissipate too. He finds himself more attuned to the subtle, almost imperceptible feelings that have been growing inside him. 

The tender smile Lewis occasionally throws George’s way, the warmth and depth in his eyes, the guitar lessons, the shared moments—everything begins to take on a new significance. It’s as if George is seeing Lewis for the first time. 

“George?” 

The articulation of his name jolts him out of his thoughts. 

Lewis has the filter end close to George’s lips.

George parts his mouth, his eyes never once leaving Lewis’. He inhales. The sensation of the smoke burns down in his throat. But it’s nothing compared to the way his body burns under Lewis’ attention. 

Lewis pulls the cigarette away from his lips and brings it to his own, taking a drag himself. He twists his head, breaking their eye contact, and exhales, his demeanour relaxed and unhurried. 

Fuck. 

The room seems to close in around them, creating a cocoon-like state. George absentmindedly reaches out to trace the “God is Love” tattoo with the pad of his fingers.

Think I like you best when you're just with me 

And no one else

Lewis’s gaze meets George’s, and there is a wordless question in his eyes—an invitation for something more intimate. A silent communication, an unspoken connection that feels both electrifying and vulnerable. 

George, feeling the weight of his emotions and the unvoiced exchange, gives a small, confident nod. He breathes in another smoke and leans in slightly, their lips’ centimetres away from brushing. 

The golden light casts a warm halo around Lewis. 

Instinctively, George’s mouth opens. The smoke drifts between them, and he inhales it in, filling his lungs with it. Terrible and incredibly hazardous for his health. It’s in his system. He can’t get it out now. He can’t get him out. 

It’s a delicate thing. 

Intimate. 

To share the same air and have his lungs filled with the same smoke Lewis took inside himself. 

The song changes to Holding you, Holding me. 

“You okay?” Lewis mumbles, his lips grazing George’s from the movement. 

When your love is slow 

Hits me and I'm fading

George nods and puts a hand on Lewis’ clothed thigh. He wouldn’t be doing this in his normal state. In his normal state, he would have bolted out of here and locked himself in his room and panicked. He wants nothing but to be as close to Lewis as he can be right now. 

Lewis grips George’s chin, tugging it down. He delicately captures George’s lips into his own like he has done so many times before. It doesn’t stop George from gasping inaudibly. His eyes flutter shut and his hand fists into the fabric of Lewis’ boxers. 

Their mouths move in perfect sync like it’s second nature to them, just for a few moments. Long enough for George to taste the rich, earthy flavour out of Lewis’ mouth. catch the familiar woody smell he has gotten used to. 

It’s so distinct. So Lewis. Sometimes, George thinks, he could recognise Lewis just by smell alone. 

George doesn’t know if the smoking is finally getting to his head but everything feels slowed down. The movement of their kiss is unlike any they have shared before. 

Lewis shifts slightly, adjusting so their bodies fit together. He could feel the warmth radiating from Lewis’s body, the steady rhythm of his breath.

It makes sense, all of it. Every kiss, every fleeting touch, every stolen glance. They have become the essence of his love. 

Holding you, holding me

Kissing, you're all I tasted

Lewis is the one that pulls away. He hooks a knuckle underneath George’s chin and tilts his head up, planting his lips right near his earlobe and peppering featherlight kisses along the cut of his jaw. 

George sighs, his hands trailing up to curve around Lewis’ waist and digging his nails into his skin. Lewis is gonna complain later when he sees the marks, he knows that for sure. 

And just like all the warmth disappears as a cold breeze strikes him. George’s eyes snap open, a complaint halfway up his throat. 

“I’ll be back, baby.” Lewis stands up, stealing a kiss or two once he does. “I’m gonna finish this.” He waves the still-lit cigarette he is holding. 

George falls back on the mattress. He places a hand on his bare stomach. His other arm enfolds beneath his head, his hand curving into his hair. 

His gaze wanders back to Lewis, who is now inclining forward at the window. More of a silhouette against the warm, honeyed sky. 

“If we do this, it’s just sex. Something to help us both while we’re on the road. Do not fall in love with me.” “Calm down, mate, I know. I can do just sex.” “No strings attached. No feelings.” “No strings attached. No feelings. Now, are we doing this or not?”

He broke the rule. He is in love with Lewis. 

—

Heart ask game

[lostbluejayart]

Hi hi! Sorry I tried to send a message instead of an ask but tumblr wouldn’t let me lol, I was wondering if you do commissions? I have a Black OC x Canon character that I would love to comm from you, your art style is super cute! Lmk <3

It's cool, darling! And thank you so much! I appreciate you asking me and your interest in my work at all! I can say that I rarely offer commission work, but there are times I might have the urge take a slot or two, depending on my circumstances and motivations at particular times during the year. And if I do, I always announce when I'm planning on opening up for slot; I may announce it first on my ✨bluesky ✨first before tumblr though since I'm more active there than tumblr. But I freakin love to see black oc x canon ships, like, inject that into my veins please?

[stawpny]

hey

I know I haven’t like posted but that was cause I was in DC

it’s really cool

but anyways, have some NY headcannons I thought of while driving 8 hours there and back

(my drama club cast list is coming out tomorrow AHHH [we are doing mean girls])

-

-New York has got the best fashion style out of anyone in the statehouse, buuuuuttt since this years fashion week was.. something, he has been downgraded to the second best. Cal’s the first now, ever since whatever the fuck that was happened.

-Punk NY x Hippie CA is something I need injected into my VEINS. I feel like they would be so cute together anddd the fan art would be delicious bc I would eat it with no hesitation.

-New York has the hand writing of like a fancy founding father. Like one that wrote, “We The People” on top of the constitution, or when he has too much coffee, he has a handwriting of a third grader. (just like me!)

-I imagine that when it gets “hot” here in New York (higher then 80 is too fucking hot for me) he just flops himself anywhere in the NE part of the house and just lays there until someone gets fed up or helps him. (NJ would get fed up, MA would help him)

-he gets frequent headaches so he just carry’s around a small bag of advil or Tylenol, or sometimes keeps it like pocket candy in his pockets like he’s about to give it out to children.

-I feel like he would take care of states (mostly southern) when they were young, along with Georgia and Virginia. The only reason he did so was because Penn claimed he wasn’t “man enough” so he had to do what he also claimed, “women’s work”. (No shade to ppl living in PA)

-I believe that Long Island bullies RI for two reasons, he isn’t an island, and LI is bigger than RI. LI always says that he should be a state instead and Rhode should just merge with MA or CT. (this is true, as a Long islander myself)

-I know NY is bigger than like many states in the NE, but I like the idea of him being the same height as MA or a little shorter. New Jersey would be shorter, same with RI and CT, but I feel like they would be the same height. (ma and ny)

-MA, CT, NY, and NJ have some maaajor beef with PA.

-New Yorks room is filled with a bunch of posters. Posters of Lana Del Rey, TS, Laufey, Tyler The Creator, Steve Lacy, and others are put up, but he puts more “manly” posters up to distract from the fact he literally has a huge ass Taylor Swift, 1989 poster in his room, above his bed. He has all the eras, but how could he not have a huge poster of 1989 when she wrote a song about his city, like, come on! (my fav album)

- CA x NY= Golden Cat x Black Cat (I keep seeing TikTok slideshows of the two cats and it always makes me think of them)

—

soooo

I had a loooong weekend of hiking around DC

it was fun though

I liked seeing all of the state flags and whateva

anyways, i hope u liked these

ily guys, byyeeee!

[nessieartss]

i know I already told you I love your yuri skfs... i really hope I don't sound annoying but i NEED you to know I injected it deep into my veins and that's all flowing inside me now. i close my eyes and I see them, im OBSESSED. femkuna in general is the hottest thing to happen and then your femkuna with femgumi ah life changing...

(THIS DOESNT MEAN I DONT LOVE YOUR ORTHER SKFS ARTS !!! I DO !!! especially the back hug one where gumi takes a pic 🥹) ((n the ones you post on here too ugh I love your art style so much, i literally made it my everything your gumi wallpaper n stuff you are sooo talented thank you so much for the food)) ((and for your yuriiiii))

Anon you dont get it, this message means everything to me and no, you dont sound annoying at all because trust me ive been there. And im glad you liked it, it motivates me to draw them more. Thank you so much!! 💖

[slaasherslut]

Slaashy dear...

If you have any Ava, "Alice" and Colt thoughts... PLEASE SHARE THEM WITH ME ❤️

I want to inject it in my veins.

I have the most unhinged thoughts about them so imma put them under a cut. THEYRE NASTY SO IM SORRY IN ADVANCE

"Alice" belongs to Sol, Colton belongs to @rottent33th, Ava is mine

The three of them cuddling in bed after a fuck nasty session. Colton between them on his back with his hands behind his head and both of the girls with their heads on his shoulders. They hold hands over his chest 🥺

That art you drew of Ava and "Alice" drives me wild and it made me picture Colt on the other side of her. Ava and Colt just take turns making out with her SLOPPY STYLE and feeling her up.

I have this situation in my head where they met in a bar. Colt walks in with Ava under his arm looking for a third for the night and once Ava sees "Alice" its over. Shes just so nervous and cute. Ava wanted her.

Ava constantly giggling to Colt while fondling "Alice" asking "honey aint she so cute?"

Colton jerking off while watching the two of them make out.

Ava cooing to "Alice" when shes getting fucked by Colt and shes all overstimulated. "Shhh its okay honey. I know it feels good. Hes so close, you are too right? Good girl."

The two girls model matching outfits for Colt.

Ava riding Colt while "Alice" rides his face and the two of them make out.

Ava and "Alice" sucking Colt off at the same time.

Ava and "Alice" laying on their backs, legs spread, touching each other, while Colt alternates between fucking each girl.

Honestly I could go on and on about sex positions to put these little nasties in.

"Alice" gets to flustered whenever they give her attention and they eat it up.

The two girls giggling and chatting in the bathroom while dyeing each others hair. Just a sweet little moment between them. Theyre besties they have fun together.

[dizzyisdizzy]

hi love ok so i’m actually obsessed with ur art i wanna breathe it i wanna inhale it i want it to infiltrate my eyeballs i want to see only ur art it is so amazing i need to find a way to inject it into my veins u are such an amazing artist and from one artist to another ur art is some of the best most well done art i’ve seen. ur use of colors and ur ability to capture the essence of the character in ur style is truly amazing and i’m obsessed with ur art style it is wowow omg i’m rambling i’m so sorry but ur pieces are just that amazing n e ways please remember to take breaks and take care of urself. i hope u have a lovely day/night/anything in between muah muah muah i’ll always support u IF U HAVE A THOUSAND FANS IM ONE OF THEM IF U HAVE ONE FAN ITS ME IF U HAVE NO FANS IM DEAD 💪💪💪💪 toodles :P

So much praise and I can't even attach a cute anime girl pfp to it, let alone a name 🥺

Thanks anon!!! Your words have kept echoing in my mind as I draw so *you* 👈 are a lil part of everything I draw along with everyone else's cool words.

I'll do ya proud 💪💪����💪 toodles

[semper-legens]

91. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, by Robert Tressell and Scarlett and Sophie Rickard

Owned: No, library Page count: 351 My summary: Edwardian England. The rich get rich, and the poor get poorer. A group of working-class men are working for a renovation company, repainting houses for a pittance while struggling to keep their families afloat. When one of them starts whispering of Socialism, the others scoff. But the cancer that is capitalism is eating their society from the inside. Can they survive another year on next to nothing? My rating: 4/5 My commentary:

Here's a classic that I've never read! The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists is the socialist novel, at least according to the blurb on the back of this graphic novel. As should be obvious, this is a graphic novel adaptation of that novel - and as I've just admitted I haven't read the original, I am obviously in no state to judge this as an adaptation. Instead, I shall judge it on its own merit! I kept seeing this one on the shelves and something about it just drew me to it; the art style is charming, the characters full of life, the world imbued with such character and realism. I really enjoyed it, and I think it's going to stick with me for a good while.

First of all, the art. As I've said about a thousand times, I'm not an art person, so I can't really describe what the art here evoked for me exactly. I wouldn't call it realistic - it's still cartoonish in the vein of Raymond Briggs - but it carries and evokes a realism. The colours are bright, but about what you would expect from the impoverished early 20th century. The characters are distinguished by clothes and facial hair mostly, but I never had too hard of a time keeping track of who everyone was and what their stories were. It was simple, but effective for what it was trying to do, and I must say that I enjoyed it greatly.

Our story is the tale of a group of working-class men who are increasingly screwed over by their bosses and the rich men who hold their life and death in hand. I wouldn't accuse it of being subtle, but it certainly made its point. Often the crushing poverty of the main characters is contrasted with the wealth and luxury of their 'betters' - or the overseers and employers are shown engaging in ridiculous hypocrisy, such as one man disallowing a boy from taking spare wood home to burn in the fireplace while later stealing the old blinds from the house they are renovating. A lot of the story is made up of characters giving long speeches about socialism, or debating the merits of socialism versus capitalism among themselves. But, to this adaptation's credit it's never just talking heads, there's always a great deal of character injected into poses and expressions, and there's often visual illustrations of a character's point or background graphics to add more flair. I was never bored reading these debates. I particularly liked one of them, a speech about socialism, where the backgrounds became more abstract and took on a style obviously inspired by Soviet propaganda. It's a nice touch!

Next up, back to reality, with a harrowing tale of incarceration.

[shadowsingercassia]

Thank you for the tag @anarchiii !! ❤️

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

I haven't posted anything on AO3 and I don't think I have an account either but that's only because I have no idea how to use it 😂

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

25! (If I counted correctly)

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

Well I have a series that I stopped updating so that's one (?) and a part 2 to a fic I have so... that makes it 2 (I think...) 🤔

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

So I have two 🙂 (a little bit of rambling):

First is my The Gate To Home series! It was everything for me, I really don't know how I got through it and even if I hadn't prepared it properly so many people loved it and supported it until the end (I love you all smm ❤️)

Second is The Day Hope Died! This fic has a special place in my heart because when I'm having a hard time, I write and this is the only fic of those that I had the courage to post. The feelings there, the angst are a representation and a reflection of my own that day (I'm alright now for anyone wondering!)

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

I think that Genuine Poetry is a type of fic that I don't usually write and that is purely because of the poem I put in the fic (I had never written a poem in my life before that)

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

So Masked Christine of the Opera surprised me with its ending, I was not expecting that plot twist to settle into my mind though rereading it, it's not great, but the rest of it is very special to me 💕 another thing I was surprised to see when I finished writing it is that I actually wrote it in third person and I hadn't even realized 🥲

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

Again it's Masked Christine of the Opera, I really loved writing it and I'm going to say it, it's a great fic although the ending is a little bad (I really had thought it was good 😭) it just has my heart ❤️

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

I really have a lot of artists that have inspired me to make my own art (even if I'm still a beginner) and for that I want to thank @dawneternal and @freyjas-musings

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

Alright I will yap so bear with me:

@scorpioriesling all your fics are incredible, I absolutely loved Too Hot To Handle and I actually binge-read it in September and I wanted to say I'm obsessed, same for the Invisible String and all your other fics! 🫶

@velarisdusk your fics are... mwah 💋 I don't even know where to begin your writing is amazing and truly I love you so much! This tag game was probably my sign to re-read all your fics 😂

@illyrianbitch I love each and every single thing you write, if I could have them injected into my veins I would do it 💓 (I'm also very glad you're doing well now 🥰)

@azrielslittleslut you quite literally inspired me to write an Azriel x reader fic because of how well you capture his personality 💙

@azrielsdove your fics mean everything to me, I've read each one twice and I'm planning on reading them all again ❤️

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

I've been on Tumblr for a little less than a year I think (me and my alzheimer that I don't actually have) but recently I have discovered @thelov3lybookworm (I know you are not a new author but I'm obsessed with your Lucien week fics and im currently reading all your other fics too!!)

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start

No, I haven't done any

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

In my writing, reading my first and latest fic, I'm proud because I've grown but I'm also proud because I had the courage to start so shoutout to my first fic Stupid Headache (you will always be my baby) 🥰

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

Dont take it seriously (like in a way of dont view it as a competition). That's the most important thing I've learned. When I started, which was long before I got Tumblr (like when I was a teenager I wrote my first short story) and I took it so seriously, planning things obsessively, which is the reason I actually lost my passion but now I found it again and I'm very grateful for that 💞

14. What is your advice?

Well, I really don't know any good advice, I mean I'm still learning things everyday but I think my biggest advice is what I previously said, don't take it seriously, it's not a competition

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

I want to try and create an OC and maybe start writing more ships and less x reader but mostly I just want to write, that's my goal, not to give up on writing :)

note: again, thank you @anarchiii for the tag !!

no pressure tags: @really-fanny-longbottom @illyriassweetheart @azrielsdove and anyone else who wants to do this!

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

Thank you so much @velarisdusk for the tag! 🫶🏻

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

I don't have anything published on AO3 simply because I still don't know how to use it even though I do have an account. But here on tumblr, it's 92.878

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

49! I've never counted them before and never realized just how many they were omg

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

Ongoing only Bound By Secrets. In progress apparently 10? I thought I had 3 WIPs. I completely forgot about the other 7 lol

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

UGH how do I choose one? A Helping Hand has a special place in my heart because it's the first fic I wrote and posted. Night and Days is one of my favorites because I love the banter between Azriel and reader, and I also have to mention Say My Name because omg I loved writing that one and I know I might be biased but I was giggling and kicking my feet while writing.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

I'd say the first few things I wrote rather than one in particular for the simple reason that in Italian I tend to write very long sentences because it's normal, but in English sentences are usually shorter so it took a bit to get into that mindset. As for experimental, I'm trying to write a fic from two povs at the same time, sort of like an omniscient narrator. We'll see how it turns out.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

Many fics surprise me while writing because I don't plan them out that much other than a few things I want to happen and then I see where the story leads me. As for reception, Bound by Secrets. I didn't expect so many people asking for a part 2! (I'll write it, I promise)

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

The Path To Healing and on a happier (and smutty) note Alcohol and Giggles. I cried writing the first one and laughed writing the second one.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

I love every single fanart by madschofield and elizianna.the.one!

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

@writingcroissant was the first author I found on here, the literal reason I created an account was to read her fics, and @illyrianbitch was the second. I love everything they write and it made me want to write again.

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

@shedoessoshedoes and @duskandcobalt! I'm going to read all of your fics so don't be surprised if you see me in your notifications for the next few weeks 🥰

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start

Nope, no collaborations.

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

Kinktober! I decided to do it two weeks before it started and didn't think I'd be able to write all 31 one fics but I did it!

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

When I started posting, I kept opening tumblr every five minutes to see if there were any new notes/comments/etc. Now I don't do that anymore. I still care about people enjoying my content of course and any kind of feedback is always super appreciated, but I don't need to continuously check to know that my writing is valid and good even if I get only a few likes.

14. What is your advice?

I'm the wrong person to ask this to, but I guess write what you like and what you want to read. I know it's basic, but never before I realized just how true it is. Feedback and appreciation for your work is awesome, but you have to be the first one to like it or it's probably going to turn out bland if you push yourself to write something you don't like or are not interested in.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

Finish working on all those WIPs apparently lol. And I have an idea for a series that I want to work on as well.

No pressure of course, but if you'd like to @azrielslittleslut @anarchiii @shedoessoshedoes or anyone else who wants to do it!

[marsipain]

I wish it was possible to take your cyberpunk au art and inject it into my veins.

It's so good!!!! The concepts, the outfits, your art style, its all just so 😍

Can't wait to see more!!!

TYSM ur so kind :DD

<33

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #471

Top Ten Settings for a Stardew Valley Spin-Off

Have you played Stardew Valley? It’s great. It’s this sort of farming sim-cum-RPG where you move into a dilapidated old farm and have to turn it around, selling lots of produce and turning a tidy profit. But as well as tilling soil and milking goats, you also have to mosey on down to the local village, befriend the curious townsfolk, repair the battered old community centre, and eventually settle down and get married. And on top of all that, there’s a really weird Lynchian mystery, with monsters in the mines and wizards and witches and a war between dwarves and some kind of race of shadow-people. It’s bonkers and it’s delightful and it’s incredibly, incredibly dense. It’s like a cross between a casual mobile game and six seasons of a prestige fantasy drama.

However good the game is – and it is very good – I never really got too into it. Possibly because in its structure I see too much of the “just one more turn” ethos of Civilization (time passes in days and you can only save when you go to bed, but every morning new stuff has happened or new crops have grown, so you always want to get up and see); as I’m already in the grips of a crippling addiction to the world’s greatest strategy game, injecting more of the same into my veins is a recipe for disaster. Fortunately, my wife got addicted instead, and since the recent console update, we’ve been able to play together in co-op.

So anyway, the long and the short of it is I’ve been playing it pretty much every night.

Whilst I’ve been playing, I’ve been thinking of ways the game could be expanded. Not necessarily improved, but just sort of… spun off, in wild and exciting new directions. A different flavour of Stardew. New settings, new options, new challenges. Do you remember “total conversions”? When teams of modders or developers would essentially build an entirely new game out of an old game? Happened a lot with the Quake and Half-Life engines back in the day; I think it might even be how Gearbox got started, if I remember rightly. Anyway, how’s about a Stardew Valley total conversion? Something along these lines. It’d be good fun at any rate! So let’s play Stardew Valley…

…on Tatooine: you play a moisture farmer with a small place just outside of a bigger town – maybe someplace a bit smaller and friendlier than the likes of Mos Eisley and Mos Espa. You have to install moisture vaporators, buy droids to maintain them, trade with passing Jawas, and fend off Sandpeople attacks (unless you can learn their language and befriend them, Mando-style). Romance townsfolk! Save up enough for a new speeder! Take your T-15 down Beggar’s Canyon to bullseye womp rats! But seriously, the idea of farming in an entirely inhospitable location, and farming in a way that’s not done at all on Earth (except maybe you can also breed whichever animals make the blue milk), is really interesting.

…in the Wild West: you get to be an old-timey rancher out in the West. Are you growing corn? Are you raising cattle? Build yourself a cozy farmhouse. Get one of those windmills going. Basically, you’re creating the Kent Farm in Smallville. Perhaps this could go a bit more serious and look at the relationship between the settlers, townsfolk, and the indigenous people; maybe you could try to get everyone to get along? Or just make it stereotypical and wildly offensive. Godless meets Little House on the Prairie.

…in the Vampire Apocalypse: basically Stardew Valley by way of I Am Legend. There’s no romance here, you’re the only human. During the day you farm, you gather, you build; at night you hunker down as wave after wave of vampires attack. But just like in the book, there’s a deeper, creepier, much sadder mystery to unfold. I mean, this is probably the best possible adaptation you could make of I Am Legend, especially as presenting in a top-down pixel art style would rob it of any sensationalism.

…with Pokémon: you’re always shoving Pokémon in creepy breeding centres in the games, right? Well what if this was basically a Pokémon farm. You have to build specific enclosures for the different Pokémon, make sure they’re well treated, and also grow sufficient crops and foods to keep them happy. Your ultimate aim is to sell the Pokémon themselves (or their produce, I guess) but you can also sell what you grow. And, of course, you can wander into whichever little village in Kanto or Galar or wherever it is we set the game, and have your usual mild RPG entanglements and romantic sub-plots. Meanwhile Team Rocket are trying to mess up your lovely farm. The dastards!

…at the North Pole: kinda similar to the Tatooine farm, this has you managing a remote outpost in the freezing wilderness. Barely anything can grow outside so you have to construct and maintain habitats to farm indoors, and rear animals, etc. You can trade (or romance!) local indigenous people, befriend penguins, and ride polar bears, which I assume is a totally realistic thing to do. On top of all this there could be other research projects to complete and the opportunity to expand the station itself. If you explore far enough, you find a crashed UFO buried in the ice, but whatever you do, don’t let it anywhere near your dog…

…in Yorkshire: basically not much different to Stardew as it exists now, but it’s set in the UK. I think very specifically a small North Yorkshire village. Think of the comedy accents and regional humour! This is the sort of thing Team 17 could have made a lot of headway with in the nineties. You’d be growing and harvesting typical British crops, dealing with eccentric British townsfolk, encountering Sunday bikers and car boot sales and dancing round the May Pole… the more I think about it, the more it should basically be a Wicker Man game, to be honest.

…in Bedrock: farming great big huge caveman crops! Building big rickety stone houses! Driving cars with your feet! And – of course – rearing dinosaurs. Dinosaurs! Think about it: everything would have to be bigger and chunkier and funnier. Maybe you could invent fire or the wheel, or something. Who owns the rights to Chuck Rock? Because if the Flintstone people aren’t on board, this could be a great way to bring back a classic gaming icon.

…during the War: sorta similar to the Yorkshire Farm game above, but specifically set during WWII. I guess this is a more serious sort of game, but the added complications of rationing and a reduced workforce (I think maybe you’d have to hire land girls or something?), making produce for the army and stuff, would add a lot to the gameplay. Perhaps there could be bombing raids, blackouts, and maybe even enemy spies to deal with. All this combined with older technology could be interesting.

…on Cybertron: a totally different way of farming. Imagine: you’re in charge of an energon farm on one of Cybertron’s moons. You have to harvest energon from the ground and then convert it; there could be different energon ores and different ways of converting them. You could also drill for nucleon or something, or rear turbo-rabbits, sharkticons, and scraplets (but don’t let them get loose!). Meanwhile the war is brewing down on the planet below, and eventually you have to decide if you can remain neutral, or if you have to pick a side.

…in the Shire: on the one hand, it’s a fairly straightforward pastoral game, similar to Stardew as it exists now; plant seeds, grow crops, rear animals, do up your farmhouse. But your farm is in the Shire, you’re a hobbit, and everyone else is a hobbit. Grow pipeweed and learn to blow smoke rings! Expand your hobbit hole by digging further into the hill! Go into the Green Dragon and romance the barmaid! You can go adventuring, befriending wizards like Gandalf or Radagast, making friends with dwarves and maybe even meeting elves and men… but if you do, your hobbit neighbours might think a lot less of you. Man, now I really want this game! It sounds fantastic!

So there we are. Ten possible Stardew spin-offs. This started as a fun exercise and ended with me inventing a game that I want more than any other game that exists. This is crazy. Someone make me my gentle hobbit social RPG… please?!

[ryanmeft]

Ryan’s Favorite Films of 2019

A stuttering detective,

A top hat-wearing vamp

A forced-perspective war,

A bit of Blaxploitation camp

Prisoners on a space ship

Having sex with bears

A writer goes remembering

Whenever his pain flares

  A prancing, dancing Hitler

A gambler high on strife

Here will go cavorting with

A mom who becomes a wife

A family plot with many threads

Three men against their own

A stuntman and his actor

A mobster now quite alone

Doubles under the earth

Two men in a tall house

Are here to watch a woman who

Is battling with her spouse

A family’s plans for their strong son

Go awry one night

A man rejects his country

Which is spoiling for a fight

 A house built by his grandpa

(Maybe; we’re not sure)

Looks out upon three prisoners

Whose passions are a lure

  All these are on my list this year

It’s longer than before

Because picking only ten this time

Was too great of a chore

  What are limits anyway?

They’re just things we invented

I don’t really find them useful

So, this year, I’ve dissented

  You may have noticed this time out

That numbers, I did grant

Promise they’ll stay in this order, though?

Now that, I just can’t

  I’m always changing my mind

Because, after all, you see

Good film is about the heart

And mine’s rather finicky

  There are a lot more I could name

(And I’ll change my mind at any time)

For now, though, consider these

The ones I found sublime

 20. Motherless Brooklyn

I’ve got a (hard-boiled) soft spot for 90’s neo-noirs like L.A. Confidential, Red Rock West and Seven, and Edward Norton’s ‘50’s take on Jonathan Lethem’s 90’s -set novel can stand firmly in that company.

19. Doctor Sleep

There’s something about Stephen King’s best writing that transcends mere popularity; his work may not be fine literature, but it is immune to the fads of the moment. So, too, are the best movies based on that work. This one, an engaging adventure-horror, deserved better than it got from audiences.

18. Jojo Rabbit

There was a time when the anything-goes satire of Mel Brooks could produce a major box office hit.  Disney’s prudish refusal to market the film coupled with the dominance of franchises means that’s no longer the case. If you bothered to give Jojo a shot, though, you got the strange-but-rewarding experience of guffawing one moment and being horrified the next.

17. By The Grace of God

I’d venture this is the least-seen film on my list; even among us brie-eating, wine-sniffing art house snobs, I rarely hear it mentioned. Focusing on the perspectives of three men dealing with a particularly heinous and unrepentant abusive priest and the hierarchy that protects him, it’s every bit as disquieting and infuriating as 2015’s Oscar-winning Spotlight.

16. Waves

You think Trey Edward Shultz’s Waves will be one thing---a domestic drama about an affluent African-American family (and that in and of itself is a rarity). Then it becomes something else entirely. It addresses something movies often avoid: that as life goes on, the person telling the story will always change.

15. Transit

You’re better off not questioning exactly where and when the film is set (it is based on a book about Nazi Germany but has been changed to be a more generalized Fascist state). The central theme here is identity, as three people change theirs back and forth based on need and desire.

14. American Woman

Movies about regular, working class, small-town American usually focus on men. This one is about a much-too-young mother and grandmother, played brilliantly by Sierra Miller, dealing with unexpected loss and the attendant responsibilities she isn’t ready for. 

13. Marriage Story

There is an argument between a married couple in here that is as true a human moment as ever was on screen---free of trumped-up screenplay drama and accurate to how angry people really argue. The entire movie strives to be about the kind of realistic divorce you don’t see on-screen. It is oddly refreshing.

12. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Quentin Tarantino’s love letter to 70’s Tinseltown is essentially a question: What if the murder that changed the industry forever had gone down differently? Along the way, it also manages to be a clever and insightful study of fame and fulfillment, or lack thereof.

11. High Life

Claire Denis is damned determined not to be boring. Your reaction to her latest film will probably depend on how receptive you are to that as the driving force of a film. Myself, I’m very receptive. I want to see the personal struggles of convicts unwittingly shipped into space, told without Action-Adventure tropes, in a movie that sometimes misfires but is never dull.

 10. Dolemite Is My Name

And fuckin’ up motherfuckers is my game! Look, if you don’t like naughty words, you probably shouldn’t be reading my columns---and you definitely shouldn’t be watching this movie. Eddie Murphy plays Rudy Ray Moore, the ambitious, irrepressible and endlessly optimistic creator of Blaxpoitation character Dolemite. Have you seen the 1975 film? It’s either terrible and wonderful, or wonderful and terrible, and the jury’s still out. Either way, Moore in the film is a self-made comic who establishes himself by talking in a unique rhyming style that speaks to black Americans at a time when black pop culture (and not just the white rendition of it) was finally beginning to pierce the American consciousness. What The Disaster Artist did for The Room, this movie does for Dolemite---with the difference being I felt like I learned something I didn’t know here.

 9. 1917

Breathless, nerve-wracking and somehow intensely personal even though it almost never takes time to slow down, it is fair to call Sam Mendes’s film a thrill ride---but it’s one that enlightens us on a fading historical time, rather than simply being empty calories. Filmed in such a way as to make it seem like one continuous, two-hour take, for which some critics dismissed it as a gimmick, the technique is used to lock us in with the soldiers whose mission it is to save an entire division from disaster. We are given no information or perspective that the two central soldiers---merely two, in a countless multitude---do not have, and so we are with them at every moment, deprived of the relief of omniscience. I freely admit I tend to give anything about World War I the benefit of the doubt, but there’s no doubt that the movie earns my trust.

8. Ash Is Purest White

Known by the much less cool-sounding name Sons and Daughters of Jianghu in China, here is a story that starts off ostensibly about crime---a young woman and her boyfriend are powerful in the small-potatoes mob scene of a dying industrial town---but after the surprising first act becomes a meditation on life, perseverance and exactly how much power is worth, anyway, when it is so fleeting and so easily lost. What do you do when everything that defined you is gone? You go on living. This is my first exposure to writer-director Jia Zhangke, an oversight I must strive hard to correct in future.

7. Knives Out

The whodunit is a lost art, a standard genre belonging to a time when mass audiences could appreciate a picture even if someone didn’t run, yell or explode while running and yelling every ten minutes. Rian Johnson and an all-star cast rescued it from the brink of cinematic extinction and gave it just enough of a modern injection to keep it relevant. Every second of the film is engaging; Johnson even manages to have a character whose central trait is throwing up when asked to lie, and he makes it seem sympathetic rather than juvenile. The fantastic cast of characters is backed up with all the qualities of “true” cinema: perfect camerawork, an effective score, mesmerizing production design. As someone who didn’t much care for Johnson’s Star Wars outing, I’m honestly put out this didn’t do better at the box office than it did.

6. A Hidden Life

After a few questionable efforts and completely losing the thread with the execrable vanity project Song to Song, Terence Malick returns to his bread and butter: meditative dramas on the nature of faith, family, and being on the outside looking in, which encompass a healthy dose of nature, philosophy and people talking without moving their lips. That last is a little dig, but it’s true: Malick does Malick, and if you don’t like his thing, this true story about a German dissenter in World War II will not change your mind. For me, what Malick has done is that rarest of things: he had made a movie about faith, and about a character who is faithful, without proselytizing. That the closeness and repressiveness of the Nazi regime is characterized against Malick’s typical soaring backdrops is a masterstroke, and the best-ever use of his visual style.

5. The Lighthouse

Robert Eggers is a different kind of horror filmmaker. After redefining what was possible with traditional horror monsters in The Witch, he returned with something that couldn’t be more different: an exploration of madness more in the vein of European film than American. Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe are two men stranded in a lighthouse together slowly losing their minds, or what is left of them. The haunting score and stark, black-and-white photography evoke a nightmare caught on tape, something we’re not supposed to be seeing. It’s not satisfying in a traditional way, but for those craving something more cerebral from horror, Eggers has it covered.

4. Us

I have become slightly notorious in my own little circle for not thinking Get Out was the greatest film ever made, and now I’ve become rather known for thinking Us just might be. Ok, so that’s definite hyperbole: “greatest” is a tall claim for almost any horror movie. Yet here Jordan Peele shows that he can command an audience’s attention even when not benefiting from a popular cultural zeitgeist in terms of subject matter. It’s a movie with no easy or clear message, one that specializes in simply unsettling us with the idea that the world is fundamentally Not Right. I firmly believe that if Peele becomes a force in the genre, 50 years from now when he and all of us are gone, his first film will be remembered as a competent start, while this will be remembered as the beginning of his greatness.

3. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

Ostensibly about urban gentrification, this story of a young black man trying to save his ancestral home from the grasping reach of white encroachment is a flower with many petals to reveal. Don’t let my political-sounding description turn you off: the movie is not a polemic in the slightest, but rather a wry, sensitive look at people, their personalities and how those personalities are intertwined with the places they call home. Though the movie is the directorial debut of Joe Talbot, it is based loosely on the memories and feelings of his friend Jimmie Falls, who also plays one of the two central characters. If you’ve ever watched a place you love fall to the ravages of time and change, this movie may strike quite a chord with you.

2. Uncut Gems

When asked why this movie is great, I usually say that it was unbelievably stressful and caused me great anxiety. This description is not usually successful in selling it. The Safdie Brothers have essentially filmed chaos: a man self-destructing in slow-motion, if you can call it slow. Howard Ratner has probably been gradually exploding all his life; he strikes you as someone who came out of the womb throwing punches. He’s an addictive gambler who loves the risk much more than the reward, and can’t gain anything good in life without risking it on a proverbial roll of the dice. His behavior is destructive. His attitude is toxic. Why do we root for him? Perhaps because, as played by Adam Sandler, he never has any doubt as to who he is---something few of us can say. He’s an asshole, but he’s a genuine asshole, and somehow that’s appealing even when you’re in his line of fire.

1. Pain and Glory

When I realized I would, for the first time, have the chance to see a Pedro Almodovar film on the screen, I was overjoyed. His movies aren’t always great, but that was of little concern: he’s one of the handful of directors on the planet who can fairly call back to the avant-garde traditions of Bergman or Truffaut, making the movies he wants to make about the things he want to make them about, and I’d never seen one of his films when it was new and fresh, only months or years later on DVD.

It seems I picked right, as his latest has been almost universally hailed as one of the best of his long career. An aging, aching filmmaker spends his days in his apartment, ignoring the fans of his original hit film and most of his own acquaintances, alive or dead---he tries hard to put his memories away. Throughout the course of the movie, he re-engages with most of them in one way or another, coming to terms with who he is and where he’s been, though not in a Hallmark-movie-of-the-week way. Antonio Banderas plays him in the role that was always denied him by his stud status in Hollywood. It isn’t simply him, though: every person we meet is engaging and, we sense, has their own story outside of how they intersect with his. Most engaging is that of his deceased mother, who in her youth was played vivaciously by a sun-toughened Penelope Cruz. Perhaps Almodovar will tell us some of their stories some day. Perhaps not. I would read an entire book of short fiction all about them. This is the year’s best film.

[winterscream4]

No Works and No Days (Part 2)

Mountains of green…moving, crashing into black ravines.

Marlowe found something soothing about watching the cardiograph while he kept slipping in and out of consciousness. Always intrigued by all things weird and eerie, Marlowe had recently heard a radio transmission from Saturn, purportedly captured by NASA’s Cassini-Huygens probe. The caption on the UFOlogists’ website wrote: Aliens having a conversation on Enceladus. The machine’s recurrent beeping reminded him of that, although it did not so much sound like a discussion. More like, an alien mother’s lullaby.  

Marlowe’s eyes, still twitching from the anesthesia scanned the hospital room’s environs. Medical tubes, tangling like jungle tendrils above him. Intravenous liquids travelling from translucent vales into Marlowe’s veins below. Pistachio green walls began to appear, beyond the post-surgery compression stockings that covered his feet. Thinking back to Quentin Tarantino’s first “Kill Bill” movie, Marlowe instinctively made an effort to move his toes, then his heels and ultimately to bend his legs. Between his knees, a strange shape started assuming form. It was the painting of a tree, shaded in the colors of the evening dusk, as its expanding branches multiplied into smudges and birds, fluttering towards the grey melancholy sky stretching above them. Marlowe’s eyes narrowed as the inkblots below, merged into letters. Titled “Return of the Fieldfares”, the painting, lodged inside a dark grey frame, was attributed to Devon landscape artist Stewart Edmondson. Devon…home to Katelyn Elizabeth Holmes, the woman who got him out of his seclusion right before Martin entered his life once more. It was a shame, things never worked out with her, but then again, how could they have? Marlowe’s only desire at the time was intrigue and excitement, a life worth of a classic detective mystery. And Holmes, well, a rose by any other name might have been sweeter. She was too deliberate, too eager…too easy to spread her legs and let him plug jumper cables on her vaginal lips just to get her and himself going. But Marlowe didn’t enjoy it one bit. Bondage, torture and domination may have worked in the moments when people like Roderick Prospero or Alexander Driskull mixed their personal and professional lives, but despite superficial urgings Marlowe always held deep feelings of repulsion against exerting control over another human being. After all, he had been the butt of that joke all too many times himself.

But maybe all that was a load of horseshit. After all, how could someone feel that degree of attraction for men like Martin without seeing a little of himself in there?  Funny wasn’t it?

How after Martin injected him with the serum and tossed him in the ocean, his mind blended images of himself with those of Hyde? How, as he was being tossed around by the waves, memories and dreams merged into constellations of murder and insanity, pushing, compelling, forcing, beckoning him to…

“You’re up.”

The interjecting voice was soft but a little croaky. A woman, probably one, going through the flue. Marlowe moved his gaze to the direction of the voice, like a blind bat, navigating its cage through echolocation.

“I…”

Words were difficult. His throat was dry. He hadn’t smoked in a while, but the sensation was familiar, albeit taken to the extreme. Something soft and wet touched his lips. Velvet…nay…cotton…bandage strip dipped in water.

“Careful…” the voice instructed…directed, as tanned hands pushed his head forward. Marlowe’s body obeyed, although his eyes still blurring a bit, needed to verify its origins.

“There….There, we go…”

Friedrich Nietzsche’s concept of the eternal return sprang in Marlowe’s mind. This had happened before…back in 2013, when his nearly dead body was cast ashore a small island, a few miles away from the coast of Midvintersville. A man there, whispered the same thing as he had him sip drops from herbal tea. It tasted like dung mixed with vomit. But it saved his life. Still…that was his name. A man who faced the Black Glove in the past and ended up resigning from life, choosing to dwell as a hermit in an abandoned lighthouse.

The man Marlowe came to know as Still, even though he was certain this wasn’t his real name, had attempted to train him in combat, teach him the art of murder by the sword. He thought it was the only way to take down the four fingers of the Black Glove. He was wrong. The hand, beneath the Glove ended up strangling its own throat. Marlowe felt guilt surging through him, for not visiting Still since the day he left the isle…since the two men watched the clouds gather in the distance as the Storm of the Century was approaching. Lightening…

Light.

“Oh my God. I am so sorry!”

Marlowe grunted in irritation as he pushed his body away from the flash.

“I just needed to check your pupils, but we can do that later. Is that okay with you, Mr. Marlowe?”

“Mr. Marlowe”…There was a weird ring to it. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy the formality but with the last person who called him that, the interaction concluded with him getting shoveled on the back of his skull.

 Several nonsense words ending in “y” were muttered before he finally got it right.

“Stanley…”

“Okay…Stanley.”

“Thhstanley!”…There was a pronounced lisp in her voice. Not that it took much away from its charm, but Marlowe couldn’t help but poke fun at it in his head. Little did he realize that, all those drugs had put his mind where his mouth was.

“Okay…bit of a dick move bro!”

“I’m…I’m sorry.”

The woman chuckled.

“I am kidding!” she exclaimed almost as if it was a plot twist. “After I had my appendix removed, I called my mother an Ugly Bitch! Can you believe that? So yeah, I get it, it’s the meds talking.”

Marlowe was too dizzy to respond. His stomach was churning but the usual acidic taste reaching the gullet before vomiting, wasn’t there just yet.

“I feel…”

“Yeah, I just put an antiemetic in your I.V. Give it a few minutes. Meanwhile, I wanted to give you this.”

Marlowe observed a hand entering his visual field. It was not as dark in complexion as he originally thought but had a golden tint to it instead. The fingers were long and hairless, the nails short and undyed but evidently manicured recently. As the fog began to clear from his eyes, he gazed upwards.  The voice was revealed to have a face and a strange one at that. She was clearly far more tanned than most Canadians he’d encountered the previous two years; Latina but not exactly. Her nose bore that distinct feature of Golden Age illustrations, symmetrical but slightly pointing downwards. The lips, smiling gently at him, were unusually large. Little bit of lipstick, maybe, rotten apple in color. Her hair was cut short, reaching down a little below her shoulders. A very nineties style, reminiscent of Willow Rosenberg’s from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And the eyes, almost uncanny compared with her complexion. Almond shaped, hazel in color, purplish kind of, under the cold hospital lighting. There she stood, a petrol shirt tucked under her blank medical robe, formal trousers held together by a brown belt, visible just above the hospital’s mattress.

A weight was pushing down his chest. Marlowe glanced below. Henry David Thoreau’s greyscale portrait was starring right at him.

“The paramedics found it laying by your side in the woods.”

“Have you read it?” Marlowe toiled to speak as his lips had started to turn dry again.

“I am more of a “Civil Disobedience” kind of gal. But yeah, it’s a beautiful book.”

Most of, Whitman’s, Emmerson’s and Thoreau’s works were in a prominent place at the Winter Manor’s library. Marlowe had leafed through “Civil Disobedience” although by that point he scarcely remembered what it was about, lest for a few catchy quotes.

“The true place for a just man is the prison…or maybe the hospital…”

“Well” the woman replied as she adjusted the flow of his I.V. “Next time you want to play Socrates, you stick to wine and opium. Cause that Destroying Angel the doctors found in your system; man, was it a hustle to remove!”

Marlowe froze, flabbergasted. How could he have been that stupid? He’d read the books! The Destroying Angel mushroom had well-earned its name. It was rumored to be the most common source of fungi-ingested deaths in the Northern hemisphere, going for your kidneys and liver first before entering the blood. Then it starts fucking up the rest of you all the same. But then Marlowe’s mind harked back to another thing the woman had just mentioned. “The Doctors…?”. Wasn’t she one of them?

“You are not…a doctor?” he quizzed in a tone concealing hints of suspicion.

The woman smiled. Her lips grew weirded but strangely more compelling also.

“Mary Schwann. Neuropsychology PhD, from Berkley’s, specializing on the viral counter-myelination of neuronal tissue and neurodynamic psychotherapy.”

“I will need to see a C.V. on that…”

“Screw you.” The woman smiled again. “You are in good hands.”

“Was my brain…”

“Oh no, no! You are no worse off that you used to be. We did an fMRI just in case. But I do have some bad news.”

“Shit…”

“Your insurance mandates four hours of psychotherapy. Hence, you are going be stuck with me for a while. But first, we’re going to get you all better. The poison is now out of your system, so if my predictions are correct, you’ll be home by tomorrow.”

“And the therapy…?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you in my office by the end of the week.”

The woman checked her watch.

“Well, I have a few errands to run now, but I’ll be back to check in on you in the morning. It was very nice meeting you, Mister Walden.”

“It was nice meeting you…Civil Disobedience kind of gal.”

 Even though Marlowe retained his suspicions after getting discharged, he spent many days and nights wishing she had called. A peculiar kind of sorrow surged through him as the months passed and the fear of getting sick from food poisoning again thrusted him into passing his days back under the sheets or in front of a laptop screen. Being a man, with a strong proclivity for the extremes, Marlowe turned his diet 180 degrees to the opposite direction. Wild weeds and nuts were replaced by beef and cheesesteak, forest greens by potato fritters, sumac and rose-dog beverages by Coke and Dr. Pepper and his sautéed mushroom meals were usurped by the Marlowe sub. Gaining pound upon pound, misery upon misery, Marlowe watched the seasons pass from the Winter Manor’s second floor balcony as 2019 came to a close and a virus, born as some say in an industrial town of China, crossed the Atlantic and forced Midvintersville and the entire western world into a seemingly endless lockdown.

As the news only spoke of ever-increasing case numbers, Marlowe found some solace, or perhaps willful self-numbing, in the digital world. Besides using the wi-fi to play video games like: Doom Eternal, Fortnite and Subnatica Below Zero on ps4 and for performing his seven-times-per-day log in to his Pornhub account, Marlowe occasionally used the internet to muse over facets of his old detective life. Since the last days of 2019, he had made accounts to various websites dealing with strange incidents taking place across the globe. Most of them were either hot spots for the kind of lunatics and disgruntled males that conspiracy businesses like QAnon thrived upon, or just plain second-rate creepy pasta. Then again, Marlowe thought about resorting to some law-enforcement websites he knew from his Criminology years at Cambridge, but in those days, police had become more fond of committing the crimes rather than solving them.

Almost by accident, Marlowe encountered an obscure blog titled “Curiosities and Monstrosities” which, at least in appearance, seemed a little more valid than the rest. The authors had recorded all known activities of the New York Ripper from 2011, some of which even Marlowe didn’t know about. They had also listed hundreds of cases, solved, unsolved and classified alike, from marginal misdemeanors to federal crimes, marked by unusual or inexplicable details.

Marlowe had made his own list of those that intrigued him most. A double homicide in Sleepy Hollows, Illinois, apparently committed by a drug-mule even though witnesses swore to have seen a black pumpkin engulfed in green flames, leaving the scene. Then there was that neighboring feud, turning ugly, with a nearby tenant claiming that both members involved possessed occult powers, with the man turning into a reptilian and the woman producing red, energy orbs out of her hands. And last, came the discovery of three bodies after a fire in a field, somewhere in the great out there of Texas, with one of them preserving a contorted face, as if it was still laughing, the other restrained against a sanguinello tree and the third being toothless, while having grown root like structures on the back of its head, as if it had just become one with the tree before burning to a crisp.

But all of that paled in comparison to the sheer numbers of deaths, committed by a smaller and far less theatrical assassin. The virus had already claimed the lives of almost 30 million people across the world. At the same time, politicians ignored or underestimated the virus, some claiming it a fraud while others recommending bleach as a potent cure against it. Sometimes, Marlowe pondered if an idiot in a position power could be more dangerous than the Black Glove, since at the very least they had a plan before inflicting their repertoires of corruption and atrocity.

 Yet, by November 2020 things were getting a little more hopeful in Midvintersville. Even though the rest of Canada was still in peril, the summer-lasting lockdown imposed by Walter Greene, the town’s newly elected mayor, somehow seemed to work. A day before his birthday, as Marlowe browsed his computer for lockdown lifting news, he was all too astounded to find an unread email from the night before, marked with a familiar name at the top.

Mary Schwann. PhD.

Closing all google chrome windows on the side, Marlowe rushed to open the email, reading its contents aloud with a smile beaming across his face.

“U still owe me 4 hours of therapy. Lockdown’s lifted next week. U available?”

“PS: I hate the U’s but your file said you were born in 1979. I am a 1978. Need to appear younger. Lol.”

“PS: Hate the lols’ too.”

Marlowe did not need to ponder much. Thoughts of Mary Schwann being some sort of Black Glove assassin or a friend of Boisette’s aching for vengeance for the pulp of guts and bones that was left of him, crossed his mind but he was such an easy target to begin with, that all that trouble seemed counter-productive.

“Took you a while.” he typed, while trying to come up with some ridiculous piece of millennial slang to throw into his email.

“When we get our moment of exodus, I’ll be there. Care to meet at the old aqueducts, near the cemetery? Imao.”

“PS: I don’t know what Imao means. But it sounds a lot like a lost pygmy race from the Pacific archipelago.”

I ‘ve missed y…delete.

Marlowe jumped off his office chair, pacing towards the second floor’s ornate windowpanes. He pulled the burgundy curtains embroidered with golden floral patterns aside and gazed at the city looming beyond a vast stretch of black firs and daunting pines. The drizzle, descending in full strength across the day had ceased, and parting skies revealed the romantic glory of the solar star, disappearing beneath the Atlantic. A pal mal inevitably found itself between Marlowe’s lips. He huffed and he puffed and even though the taste was the same, it felt different for Marlowe had rarely ever smoked while feeling something akin to joy. 

All the toy soldiers he was playing with before lay motionless against the dining table, next to a half-eaten Marlowe sub. James’ Bonsai was still there, facing the sunset while shading over the ruined faces of Marlowe’s long dead adversaries. 

This will have to suffice. Marlowe thought. For now.

***********************************************************

Crooked rays of red light glimmered through the stained glass, as Vesper beckoned above the Opera House. 

The floorboards creaked ominously, as if the night herself had dismounted from her celestial mare and was striding down the Opera’s archaic oaken panels. Streams of accumulated water from the day’s persistent drizzle were crossing through the underground tubing almost muffling the yelps and sobs, echoing from beneath the black hood.

A woman, or what was left of her. Her face covered by a crudely sewn ebony fabric, like the prisoners of Abu Ghraib; her body sealed in concrete. Her palms and legs below the calf, bruised by the cold and the damp and the beatings, extending from the dark grey surface, like the clay appendages used in ancient Rome as offerings to heal the ailing limps of the sufferers.

She was suffering. He had made sure of that.

Her left foot dangled in the air; the pain made worse by the itching. A single strip of gaze, wrapped around the bleeding blotch where her middle toe used to be, held together by a threadbare string of manilla rope. The marble floor below her had turned green and wet, from moisture and the saliva that had been trickling from her mouth for the past week, as the ball-gag more often than not inhibited her from swallowing properly. The gagging reflex made her head shake neurotically back and forth. Time had disappeared the moment she was captured, and days and nights had blended into a single pit of agony and fear of impending pain.

The noises issuing from her lips and body were those of a fox, whose foot had been lodged in a beartrap and her mouth had been muzzled so that she won’t be able to chew it off even if she wanted to. Only occasionally, they were interrupted, after passing out, when her brain allowed her a few moments of rest in unconsciousness.

But this was not one of those moments.

For right across her, the flickering light of a desk lamp that signaled his arrival had been turned back on again. And with it, returned the methodical, calculated almost, squeaking sound of his armchair as it resounded across the abandoned halls. Gradually, as the lamplight flared into existence, his torn linen cowl revealed itself; once a mask whole marked with a quarter note, symbolizing a man’s inner journey into music, art and childhood dreams, now a derelict mockery of its past significance. With the darkness dissipating, revealing the canvas of his art once more, his bronze teeth hummed an infernal melody while grinding through the flesh and nail and bone of the woman’s toe and ultimately swallowing it along with the few remaining hopes of her nightmare ever coming to an end.

[colp76-blog]

Hello and welcome back to my Journey into Science-Fiction Part:18. I was thinking of a way to watch science-fiction films that I have might have missed and take a closer look into the ones that I have watched previously. It’s quite a simple idea really as all I have to do is find a connection with each film in order to continue my journey.

In Part:17 I watched The Blob 1988 and if you are wondering how it brought me to todays film, click on the link below.

The Blob, 1988. My Journey into Science-Fiction Part:17.

Scanners is a science-fiction horror film that was written and directed by David Cronenberg. The film stars Stephen Lack, Jennifer O’Neill, Michael Ironside, and Patrick McGoohan and was released in January 14th 1981. Scanners was a success after making $14.3 million at the Box Office from a Budget of $4.1 million. So, what else was happening in January 1981? Hill Street Blues premiered on NC-TV in America and The Tide is High by Blondie reached No.1 in the Charts.

The world is changing as some men and women are born with telepathic and telekinetic powers, these people are called scanners. Darryl Revok is a powerful scanner with a plan for future domination. Doctor Paul Ruth needs someone who can help bring down Daryl and Cameron Vale is dispatched by ConSec to seek him out.

I have to admit that I was pretty creeped out by the Scanners poster as a child and it’s a film that I had somehow avoided, until now. I think starting this journey has made me realise I’m becoming quite the fan of David Cronenberg as I have already reviewed The Fly for this project. There is something really unique in his style and when we meet Cameron Vale Stephen Lack in the shopping mall, I am so impressed with his ability to make a film look like a piece of modern art. There is plenty of colour in the mall but it feels cold and uninviting, add the music by Howard Shore and I’m already out of my comfort zone. Cameron is an outcast of society and when he eats in a café; he can hear the thoughts of two ladies who mention just how terrible he looks. Unfortunately, for one of them, this results in Cameron’s mind sending her into spasms on the floor. Cameron looks like a man out of control and before he can get it himself together, he is chased, drugged and dragged away by a couple of very official looking men. Watching the women shake on the floor left me feeling very uncomfortable and really helps set the tone of the film. I can’t explain it but Cronenberg makes me feel completely vulnerable to feelings and images I always try to avoid. I have to say, this opening sequence reminded me of A Clockwork Orange in some ways and Stanley Kubrick is also a director I admire for the same reasons.

Cronenberg said that the film had been his most difficult to make and the fact he had to write the script while in production just shows how talented he is. I was going to write a full breakdown of the story but after reading some other reviews by writers far talented than me, I found myself a little bored with its structure and I’m wondering why that is? I think the plot is solid but I can see how Cronenberg was just trying to bring it all together. It’s not a bad film by any means but some scenes just seemed a little bland compared to the big money sequences.

I guess the most famous image from scanners is the exploding head scene. I do admire the vision that went into making it work, which included filling it with left over burger meat and blasting the prop with a real shotgun but it’s another head that made a far better impression on me. Benjamen Pierce Robert Silverman is also a scanner and Cameron has tracked him down to try and find the location of Darryl Revok. Benjamin, a successful artist lives is in his studio along with a huge gigantic head. This is when I thought this is actually a little bit more than a body horror film and it could really delve into the human psyche; well until the shotguns started firing. I thought Benjamin was a really interesting character and I have a feeling he was meant to contribute more to this film and I suppose this is when things really started to feel rushed and it puts the whole telekinesis power at a disadvantage. It really doesn’t matter how strong your powers are, if you have a lot of people with guns or even a sniper close by, your brown bread.

I guess that leaves the final battle to talk about and what a fantastic ending it is. Speaking of final battles, I would just like to say just how brilliant Michael Ironside was as an actor and played some superb roles but one of my favourites is his portrayal of Ham Tyler in V and words can’t describe how much I love that TV show. In this final showdown it turns out Cameron and Darryl are actually biological brothers and to add insult to injury, Dr Paul Ruth is the father. Darryl asks Cameron to join him on a crusade to rule the world but Cameron using the same facial expression he has used throughout the entire film, politely declines. I think this is Cronenberg at his best as he uses the talents of those around him to help create a unique vision that belongs to him only. I love the intensity of this scene as Cameron and Darryl’s veins start bulging like a steroid injection on biceps and triceps day.

The moment Cameron starts to pull the flesh from his own face reminded me Raiders of the Lost Ark but done properly. Eventually Cameron bursts into flames and his eyes explode. No to worry though as it turns our Cameron isn’t dead at all, he has simply transferred his own mind into Darryl’s body. It took me a while but I finally realised what Cameron’s burnt corpse reminded me of and it’s the burning monk, 1963! I think that’s why I’m starting to love this director as that picture is so powerful that when you add it to a sci-fi film like this, it really starts to make you think about the real sacrifice humanity has made in the pursuit of freedom.

So, at the end of the day, I really enjoyed this film but I can see how Cronenberg was restricted and given the right chance, he could have created a legacy for Scanners that is far bigger than the one we have now. Watching this film also made me realise the 80’s could be remembered as the most science-fiction decade in history, we were ready to embrace the changes that was coming and the furniture and décor certainly tells you that. Now we have kind of gone back to soft furnishings and taken a step back, a real shame in my opinion. Finally, in an early scene when Cameron is learning about his powers with the Doctor, I thought this is just a poor man’s Matrix so Imagine my surprise later when Cameron uses his powers in the phone box, the circle is now complete!!

  “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey” scoring sessions Composer: Howard Shore Conductor: Howard Shore London Philharmonic Orchestra + session musicians Abbey Road, London, 9&10 September 2012 Photography by Benjamin Ealovega (c) New Line Cinema 2012

So I guess that leaves me wondering where I should go to next in my journey? Well I am going to keep this one pretty simple because this is a film that I have really wanted to watch in a while and now I have my chance. Okay this film is a biopic but there is some low budget science-fiction in there. Howard Shore composed the music for Scanners and eventually worked on Ed Wood 1994 with Tim Burton and that is the film I will be watching next. I have heard so many good films about this film and im curious to see what all the fuss is about.

Thank you for visiting and what did you think of Scanners? I would love to know in the comments below and if you enjoy this review, please give it a share or a like. See you soon for Part:19 of My Journey into Science-Fiction.

http://talesfromtheneonbeach.com/my-journey-to-science-fiction/

Scanners, 1981. My Journey into Science-Fiction Part:18. Hello and welcome back to my Journey into Science-Fiction Part:18. I was thinking of a way to watch science-fiction films that I have might have missed and take a closer look into the ones that I have watched previously.

[chillydayzgaming-blog]

Borderlands

Ever wanted a million guns? How about 17.75 million guns ripe for the taking? Guns that'll melt your enemy's faces off, burn them alive, make them scream for their mothers as they experience more than 1.21 gigawatts of electricity coursing through their veins? Then Gearbox Software has a game for you. Released in 2009, Borderlands is a loot based FPS with RPG style skill perks and classes. Four characters to choose from: Sarcastic marksman Mordecai, over enthusiastic brick shithouse named appropriately enough Brick, femme fatale reality shifting Siren named Lilith and finally the impromptu leader of the bunch Roland. He's the big black guy with a turret. Between it's respawning enemies who exist to drop loot and it's wonderful space western setting Borderlands became a cult classic that enjoyed more fanfare over time, gaining traction as an alternative to standard shooters of the time. The first time I recall hearing about the game was from an article talking about Ice T playing it himself. A glowing recommendation from him and it being cheap used at GameStop ensured that I would pick it up. Showing it off to my friends we soon began to play it together, eventually I picked up the GoTY edition, getting all the DLCs that I hadn't yet grabbed anyway, but by that time I was in my third play through of the game. The game working off of a cyclical new game plus mode allows for the player to replay it over again if they wish, with additional difficulty added to the game. To offset that the loot gets better too, so yay, more farming. My fondest memories of Borderlands was starting up the game, putting on some Cage the Elephant and just going to town on the final difficulty. The first area, the Arid Badlands, is a blast. Classic space western fare: Hostile bandits, crazy alien animals to shoot and plenty of loot chests to open up. Learning about all the hidden boxes, running a circuit of slaughter and chilling out to a great band is phenomenal fun. Strongly suggest it as a cathartic method to relax. Surprisingly enough I actually enjoyed classic Borderlands' bare bones story. That doesn't mean it was fantastic, it was cut down from the early ideas for the final release. Essentially the story boils down to there being a vault full of loot, you know, the stuff you've been collecting all the while? But that in a way is a wonderful subversion of what we expect. We expect the McGuffin of the story to bring us what we want, when at it's heart it is meant to only play the role of a desired thing. Be it a princess in yet another fucking castle, big black books filled with Eldritch knowledge or in Borderlands case a vault full of loot. But, spoiler alert, it isn't. It's full of tentacle monster guy. You've seen enough hentai to know where this is going. So you trampled across the East coast of a forsaken continent on a largely abandoned planet just to have to fight a roughly four story interdimensional monster hell-bent on diddling you with his tentacles. Bet you feel used huh? But, really, didn't you have fun along the way? The NPCs are pretty entertaining without being overbearing, dry wit in ample supply in addition to the clear cut quests. I feel as though the vault's true purpose was to show us what we want more than anything in the game, and that's more challenges to overcome. We the players would find it boring if the PCs ended the game with an unending pile of loot, we want to keep up the lootfest ourselves. So after you beat the end boss, who was admittedly pretty easy, you get the opportunity to begin again, but stronger this time. There's a bit of side mentions of cyclical time to help handwave this, which I appreciate, separates it from most other games in that regard. At it's heart the game did have issues with it's writing however. While I did enjoy the more serious tone of the game the slight lean towards humor was very fitting for it, dark humor injected here and there helps to keep it from being too dry. But it felt like a tipsy guy trying to keep his composure, giggling to himself one minute and standing stone faced the next. This was later "fixed" via the DLCs and sequels, going from leaning towards humor to diving headfirst into it. But that left the first game in an awkward position, it's pretty light story doesn't nearly compare to later games in the series. However what was in the game was fairly well done, I'm judging it by it's initial release, not taking the DLCs into account. The main character's lacked good insights into them as people, perhaps to help us associate with them better, but when it comes to a story I want to know how a character reacts, feels about their world. For what it is I have to give the game a 15/20 in the story/concept category. Excellent loot based FPS, subpar story but cool world. Borderlands thrives on it's FPS mechanics. Wonderful gunplay, metric fucktons of guns to utilize and useful character perks to utilize. Want to turn a hawk into an AC-130? You can do that. Shift through reality while running like Speedy Gonzales? Yeah, kinda. Punch shit like, really really hard? Brick shithouse at your service. Ammo spewing, ally healing and bone hurting bullet shooting turret? You'll be making people go owie pretty fast. Along the way you'll gain a bunch of passive and activated abilities too, which are a staple of any perk based game nowadays. Come to think of it Skyrim has perk trees that kinda remind me of Borderlands, would be interesting if it was partially inspired to do so by the surprise hit. Anyway, gotta give the game.e a high five for it's system, it works fantastically. As it's a loot based FPS, you have a backpack that slowly gets upgraded over time. Which is great because after a certain point you end up drowning in grenade mods, shields and weapons after wading through a dungeon. Ooh, speaking of I should expand those things. First off we have those lovely modifiers for your grenades, teleporting, sticky, you name it. Hell, the healing ones are my favorite, a plethora of devastating health sucking good vibes at your fingertips. Your shields are like a secondary health bar that refill over time on their own, plus cool side effects to give you little bonuses. Stuff like resistance to elemental attacks, faster recharging or beyond average shield count. Borderlands' dungeons are some of the most fun I've had in a while. Not too big, ripe with hostiles and loot, perfect for an hour of stomping through with friends. Of course where Borderlands truly shines is in it's open air bandit camps. As I said before I adore the starting area, the Arid Badlands, it's handful of Skag dens and Bandit camps are some of the best fun I've ever had grinding. To me it's not even grinding, it's cathartic ass kicking. Anyway, you get a lot if dusty places to kill stuff in, plus some mountainous places later on. Overall it's world design is quite beautiful, can't really fault it beyond any spots you can get stuck in. Overall it's gameplay and mechanics earn it a solid 20/20, the little things like weapon skill building over time, class variation and just simple dumb fun in it's dungeon diving makes it a near perfect game to pop in and just tear shit up with your friends. Onto Graphics and art style. Borderlands utilizes a cell shaded design that's iconic and quite easy to recognize. Rocks pop out at you, enemies stand out amongst the backdrop and the equipment is well understood from afar. Just enough detail without it being too attention grabbing. Character designs are a bit exaggerated, but that's to be expected really. I can't fault the game for having generic visuals in terms of NPCs and the world, at the same time it also benefits from my soft spot for space westerns. So unlike a lot of shooters it gets a nice noon in the form of it's iconic style, which really helped to set it apart. Ironically it was to be more realistic, but midway through production they changed that. For the better I say. The graphics, for it's time, were/are wonderful. I say are because, well, they still look pretty good. Might not stand up to say... the sequels, but that's just due to higher resolution over time. All in all I believe it has solid graphical quality, no faults to be seen from my 100+ hours of gameplay. So to grade it on it's visuals I'd give it a 20/20, started a series strong with it's unique design, strong visuals and charming atmosphere. Space Western game's gotta have a twangy soundtrack yeah? This one does, plus some haunting tunes as well. While the gun sounds are a bit soft for me the music, both the OST and the choices for opening and ending tracks, are are superb. Opening up with Ain't No Rest For the Wicked by Cage the elephant (my favorite band) and ending with No Heaven by DJ Champion the game uses it's music to help set the mood. You aren't good guys, you are shades of anti-heroes that are on the planet of Pandora to kick ass and get loot. The reasons vary but in general you're gonna spend most of your time shooting native wildlife and locals in the face. A lot. Not much else to comment on, 15/20 in that regard. Just needs stronger sound effects. Plus more PC interaction, but that's more writing than anything else. Enjoy shooting shit? Looting shit? Then Borderlands is the game for you. Easily 30+ hours of shooting and looting, multiple playthroughs and a never-ending stream of baddies to torment even if you do "beat" the game. Not that you ever really do beat it, it's one of those games that you can keep playing forever really. And you know what? I really enjoy that. I see replayability being from two things: wanting to experience the game more/again or seeing how you can do things differently. Myself, I change very little across playthroughs, but I LOVE to feel those events again. If not for the story than for the sheer... wonder or excitement of the events. The first few nights in Minecraft, the end of a dungeon in Skyrim that deposits you at a vista and in this case just the thrill of stomping through dungeons that I've cleared dozens of times before. I can honestly play the same zone in this game for hours. For that reason I have to award it a 20/20 for longevity, just slip the disc in and keep enjoying the gift that keeps on giving. There is very little that I would change about the game, it's a bloody masterpiece as is really. But as I've said before it's lacking in the story department. Having the characters have more shit to say, either due to quests or at each other as they're out and about. Better sense of group cohesion is what I want, to feel that these guys are a group of fire forged friends out looting the countryside together. Plus expand in their back stories, have audio logs like future games had to help explain them a bit more, perhaps a personal quest or two. Hell, have their personalities and backgrounds come out via their dialogue with each other and NPCs, just enough to help us get them better without it being too distracting. Metal Gear Solid V: the Phantom Pain did this quite well, since Snake was meant to be more of a silent protagonist he had more personification via cassette tapes. Perhaps expand on the PCs via that sorta mechanic? Oh, and better SFX, guns and such. Just make it more visceral sounding, that feeling you get when you pop a bandit's head with a satisfying headshot... Enhanced with proper bullet sounds. This game helped bring back loot based games. Be they FPS, dungeon crawlers or whatever, it helped show that a non mainstream game could as much ass or even more ass as the same major releases of that year. It's art style, iconic. The atmosphere and tone, simply a pure mixture of light-hearted romp with violent lootfest. Gunplay that is up there with some of the best shooters. Very few things to complain about, it's a game you and your buddies should buy used and just pop it in to play all weekend. Gold star game overall, 90/100. Very few can match it in sheer fun, that's without taking DLCs into account.