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purseowner4thequalityanimation · 3 months ago

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SMT Boardgame Kickstarter Smells Like Suspicious Fish

There's an SMT boardgame. Curb your enthusiasm, you shouldn't back it. And if you did, lower your pledge to like a buck until they clear things up, because as it stands it seems like an incredibly suspect product.

Checking through the Kickstarter comments and Japanese Tweets about the boardgame makes the entire thing seem poorly planned at best. I'll summarize as best I can;

The designer is incredibly infamous in the boardgame community

Naoki Matsunaga, a self-described "board game sommelier", is the designer. You'll find tweets lamenting that "the board game sommelier is involved". Why is he so hated? This thread goes into detail: co_boze on twitter. Part of it is they bashed Werewolf over one game they saw of it, another is they took on a kind of public-face role for boardgames appearing on late night TV shows to talk about them in ways that annoyed boardgamers. They seem to have designed a boardgame based on "The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People" which ripped off Sid Sackson's 'I'm the Boss". But it's what co_boze talks about next that's really bizarre. The game was apparently banned from most board game cafes and playing spaces. Seminars where people could play the game were hosted, but the venues that hosted these seminars all closed down.

If you keep looking through comments, you start finding claims that his company does multi-level marketing (ie pyramid schemes). To be honest, I don't know if this is true. But even if it isn't, it is really not hard to find people who know of this guy and would really really really REALLY prefer he was not involved.

"Oh fuck, it's THIS guy" is not a reaction that inspires confidence

2. Questionable development and presentation issues.

A regular collaborator with Atlus recently tweeted "The use of AI in Atlus works or derivative works is stictly prohibited." He responded to a reply asking if this was about a board game.

The staff running the SMT BG Kickstarter later clarified the actual -game- wouldn't use AI graphics... but from the looks of it, the promotional materials do.

Dig that... generic metal pipe aesthetic. Nothing screams MegaTen like black plumbing to nowhere.

In totally unrelated news, a board game manufacturer recently tweeted that a Kickstarter used their name without permission, and they're not sure why.

Quote tweets on the post would suggest it was the SMT board game. The comment they are loosely referring to is this:

In a follow-up post, they do specify "The product figures will be made of PVC." and "We will be manufacturing the games in partnership with a factory in China that has a proven track record... " "Figure director Kimura Yuzuru has over 10 years of experience..." and other boring development stuff that I have no issue with. What I do have issue with is how they can say things like they're "considering" which manufacturer to use and namedropping other companies that they're unrelated with. (While I was typing this post, they posted an update that clarified the CMON issue and literally nothing else: here.)

The boardgame is being presented with machine translated English printed on the same cards as the Japanese. But the actual game will have a translator check everything.

they hire translators to localize all game content

Additionally, there was a week long radio silence on the Kickstarter. For reference, Kickstarters are normally very active with the project planners dropping updates, responding to feedback and clearing up any concerns.

Some of the concerns were "How does the game actually play?", a question that would be best answered by dropping a rulebook for people to look at, or better yet showing them an entire run of the game. The SMT BG Kickstarter has boldly chosen neither. Devs have commented the game is on Version 11 and plays well, which makes it strange that they can't share any of it with anyone else.

Actually, when you compare this to how most Kickstarters are run, it becomes very clear the SMT BG Kickstarter is, uh, kinda failing in all possible regards. The first Backer Goal is "Jack Frost Dice" at 2000 backers (not funds raised, BACKERS). Despite getting 300%(!!!) of the initial pledge needed, there are no bonuses or unlocks.

Mind, this lack of information comes after they already delayed the start to supposedly improve Backer Goals and other aspects.

There aren't a shortage of issues - it's ICREA's first boardgame (but not their first tango with SMT; they made the SMT30th Logo, for instance.) The timeline seems totally wack. The staff have been incredibly slow to respond. Cards with tiny font and two languages printed on them. Etc, etc. Maybe individually these issues wouldn't be too concerning. But all of them combined make the product seem incompetently run at best, and at worst an actual scam.

I'm hardly a big influencer in the SMT scene (my biggest contribution is when that fucking succubus gif gets 36k likes on Twitter every 5 months) but I haven't seen any English speaking sources discuss this in detail, when there really should be at least some noise about all of this. Still. if just one of you end up saving 600 bucks on what ends up being a trashfire carcrash project because of this post, then that'll have made the past 30 minutes of typing this shit worth it.

#smt #shin megami tensei #megaten #boardgame #kickstarter

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floshav · 4 months ago

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i wish i were Heather Hills

part 3 to my rodrick fic ! read pt 1 here

this has been long awaited! Im sorry if my writings gotten a bit rusty :( i'll be more active i swear!!!!

summary: Y/n and Rodrick notice a drift in their relationship. Earlier, Heather swears to become a home wrecker to the two because she just cant stand Rodrick having anyone other than her.

warnings: heavy make-out, fantasising, allusions to future sexual intentions, bitch behaviour, yearning, sexual assault (slightly), crying

Rodrick and y/n havent talked for 4 days. Considering they were usually knee deep in each others business, this was definitely out of the normal.

Y/n sighs inaudibly as the muffled sound of her Chemistry teacher blabbering turned quieter as moments sprang. Yet, amidst the solemn peaceful sound of nothing she struggles to remember where it all went south.

Rodrick looked into y/n's eyes lovingly with something she'd never seen in him before, intertwining their hands together as he signalled for her to get up with him. She stood up reluctantly and took one last whiff of her cigarette before putting it out with the base of her foot. The sound of it going out satisfied her every time. She dragged her ashy boots along the pavement as they walked away from the half broken vending machine, her head in the nook of his shoulder, just the way she liked it.

Heather stood proudly with a smirk plastered along her face, one that no one could consider accusing of something heinous and she wore that with pride. A little something called pretty privilege she'd say. Something clicked in that blonde head of hers. She was going to make Y/n's life reigned over jealousy.

Rodrick grabbed Y/n's cheeks with delicate urgency as if he was almost primitive in his actions. He gave her one soft kiss before seeing that glint in her eyes that made him go crazy. Y/n let out a soft groan as he kissed her hard and long, so passionately she wanted to cry. No one's ever appreciated her the way Rodrick does. Their saliva mixed and fought for dominance while the sounds they produced were so obscene that it made her wet every time she thought about it. His pretty boy moans, his breathless expression, his half lidded eyes and long eyelashes that made her heart skip a beat more than she'd like to admit. Everything about the boy was perfect. No one could ever ruin this moment.

knock knock

Y/n's mirage of fantasies were quickly toppled over when a certain redhead blew her mind back to reality for the 3rd time this week. In the distance she saw Rodrick talking to Heather, funnily the 4th time this week. Her eyes were still puffy as she tried to digest the situation before her but her attention was quickly brought back.

"Hey, Hey! Look. At. Me. I told you to forget about him. He's no good for you y/n." said the messy haired redhead.

These were the words that often left Alex's mouth. Always about Rodrick not being good enough for her, not up to her class. What was he even trying to do?

"But its only been 4 days. Surely things couldn't have gone so wrong is 4 fucking days." Y/n said with anger threaded in her tone. She couldn't stand Alex, Rodrick, or more so Heather. She was somehow winning again. Just when y/n finally got a taste of what she wanted. She managed to ruin her life just like she always did.

"C'mon sweet'eart, its Rodrick we're talking about. Class act asshole."

she remembered the way Rodrick held her head in his chest, so lovingly, so gently like she was a piece of fine china. The way he cared for her when she abused herself. The way he looked into her eyes and called her pretty each time he stared a little too long.

"Rodrick's not like that. He's not an asshole. Not to me atleast" she said as she stared off into his direction again, a certain ache prominent in her heart.

"Please dont lie to yourself. Dont hurt yourself again."

"Why are you even talking to me Alex? You want to fuck me or something?" Y/n said plainly with not a hint of amusement in her features.

Alex's face got red, slightly hot and he felt like he had been caught. But he knew that was not the reason he'd been trying to distract her, though definitely an appealing one now that he's thought of it.

"W-what, No! I just wanted to help you out, a-and get to know you better, seeing you were crying and all." he scrambled

"Well that's very nice of you but let me put it plainly. I don't need help." she said through gritted teeth and red eyes.

Being a people pleaser all her life, she felt satisfied and a tad bit guilty at the way she handled the redhead, but oh well. That wasn't enough to knock Alex down especially after the very attractive bribe Heather gave him earlier that week.

"I'll invite you to all my parties."

"And...."

"Oh for goodness sake Alex- That should be enough to convince you as is!"

"Well... You're asking me to do quite a lot... And not to mention Rodrick's a pretty tough cookie to crumble..."

"Ugh. Fine! And a kiss. One. Kiss." Heather sighed as she rolled her eyes.

"Okay, ill do it." Alex said with glittered eyes.

Heather had presented a very... lucrative offer to Alex to try and break the couple apart, and somehow it was working.

Rodrick being the dumb loser he was, didnt think to ask y/n about the whole situation but could you really blame him?

"Hey Roddy, bout' that drum gig... how about 100 smackaroos per hour? Sound good?" Heather said with fake innocence through batted falsies and glossy lips she just touched up.

100 dollars. He couldn't give up 100 dollars an hour just like that. Also that stupid fucking nickname he hated so so much because he knew how much it pissed you off. He thought of all the things he could buy you, flowers, makeup, books, movie tickets, your favourite candy, the list went on with all the things that would make you happy. His mind was clouded with you, you, you and the way he'd make it up to you for this whole misunderstanding. The loving he'd show you after this was all over. He missed you so much.

"Yea, sure why not." Rodrick said reluctantly as he leaned further back into the brick wall he'd been perched up against. Each rough grain getting caught between his jackets fabric by the force.

"Okay! Perfect." Heather said while holding both of Rodrick's calloused hands in her own delicately manicured ones.

He quickly pulled away before realising that y/n saw the situation unravel for what felt like the hundredth time this week. Heather bounced away with a smile to her pretty face, hips swaying in her mini skirt practically with her ass hanging out.

Before he could explain, Alex blocked his field of view by giving y/n a big fat kiss.

"Woah what the fuck?" Y/n mumbled through his lips as she tried to pry Alex's heavy body off of her.

Rodrick thought back to when Heather mentioned she saw y/n give Alex a peck on the cheek. Rodrick didn't want to believe that she could be so dumb to do it right in-front of him but after seeing this how could he not feel a slight twinge of doubt pull at his heart. Like his pessimistic mindset, things you hope to be true usually aren't and he was pissed the fuck off.

Before he could think straight, he dragged his feet against the pavement, anger laced in his steps as he pushed Alex's scrawny body off of Y/n. Rodrick noticed how glassy her eyes were and wanted to hug her and tell her everything was okay. Nobody would touch her anymore. But Heathers words kept ringing in the back of his head. She doesn't like you anymore. She likes Alex but is afraid to tell you Roddy. So don't believe her bullshit excuses.

"Dude- the fuck is your problem!" Alex exclaimed while shoving Rodrick's chest. His shoes squeaking against the ground.

"The fuck are you doing kissing my girl?" Rodrick said more angrily than he'd like to come off.

"Just stop it! I don't need this to happen right now!" Y/n yelled as her cheeks got red. Rodrick cursed himself for thinking about how pretty she looked when she got like that. Y/n ran off before covering her head with her hoodie into the girls restroom.

"Looks like she doesn't need her supposed man to defend her huh?" Alex said with an annoying smug look.

"Just fuck off you cunt. Don't ever touch her again." Rodrick said before walking away defeated.

Y/n gripped the ledge of the sinks edge, finger pads bruising the surface before sobbing as quietly as she could. She hated all the unnecessary attention crying brought her at school and just wanted to shrivel up and die. Just as things couldn't get any worse, she heard the familiar tone of Heathers voice arise in the distance.

"No like he was sooo in on it. Im telling you girls he's still into me like- Oh." Heather stopped in her tracks as she saw y/n perched up in a position she had always wanted to see.

"Aw, what happened babe." Heather said with the thickest whiff of fake sincerity her voice could put out. Yet y/n wanted it to be real. She wanted Heather to actually feel bad. To apologise for being such a shit person and a home wrecker.

------------------------------------------

Finally i am here to feed you guys with part 3 lol.. im so sorry this took almost a year tf . And thank u to all those who motivated me to keep writing hahaha as cheesy and cringe as that is. Lmk if u guys want a Part 4 ! I also would greatly appreciate requests and prompts in my inbox <3

#fanfiction #rodrick fanfiction #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick smut #rodrick imagines #rodrick heffley fanfiction #rodrick fanfic #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick #rodrick rules #rodrick heffley #rodrick x reader #rodrick x y/n #rodrick x fem!reader #rodrick heffley x fem reader #rodrick heffley x y/n #doawk rodrick #rodrick heffley smut

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probablyasocialecologist · 2 years ago

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There is no obvious path between today’s machine learning models — which mimic human creativity by predicting the next word, sound, or pixel — and an AI that can form a hostile intent or circumvent our every effort to contain it. Regardless, it is fair to ask why Dr. Frankenstein is holding the pitchfork. Why is it that the people building, deploying, and profiting from AI are the ones leading the call to focus public attention on its existential risk? Well, I can see at least two possible reasons. The first is that it requires far less sacrifice on their part to call attention to a hypothetical threat than to address the more immediate harms and costs that AI is already imposing on society. Today’s AI is plagued by error and replete with bias. It makes up facts and reproduces discriminatory heuristics. It empowers both government and consumer surveillance. AI is displacing labor and exacerbating income and wealth inequality. It poses an enormous and escalating threat to the environment, consuming an enormous and growing amount of energy and fueling a race to extract materials from a beleaguered Earth. These societal costs aren’t easily absorbed. Mitigating them requires a significant commitment of personnel and other resources, which doesn’t make shareholders happy — and which is why the market recently rewarded tech companies for laying off many members of their privacy, security, or ethics teams. How much easier would life be for AI companies if the public instead fixated on speculative theories about far-off threats that may or may not actually bear out? What would action to “mitigate the risk of extinction” even look like? I submit that it would consist of vague whitepapers, series of workshops led by speculative philosophers, and donations to computer science labs that are willing to speak the language of longtermism. This would be a pittance, compared with the effort required to reverse what AI is already doing to displace labor, exacerbate inequality, and accelerate environmental degradation. A second reason the AI community might be motivated to cast the technology as posing an existential risk could be, ironically, to reinforce the idea that AI has enormous potential. Convincing the public that AI is so powerful that it could end human existence would be a pretty effective way for AI scientists to make the case that what they are working on is important. Doomsaying is great marketing. The long-term fear may be that AI will threaten humanity, but the near-term fear, for anyone who doesn’t incorporate AI into their business, agency, or classroom, is that they will be left behind. The same goes for national policy: If AI poses existential risks, U.S. policymakers might say, we better not let China beat us to it for lack of investment or overregulation. (It is telling that Sam Altman — the CEO of OpenAI and a signatory of the Center for AI Safety statement — warned the E.U. that his company will pull out of Europe if regulations become too burdensome.)

#ai #artificial intelligence #longtermism

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uwmspeccoll · 4 months ago

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Chinese Ceremonial Papers

Many hundreds of varieties of prayer sheets used to be produced by specialist ma-chang printers all over China. Many of the limited range made today are the cheapest offset-litho jobs on the cheapest machine-made papers, but the designs still imitate the original woodblock prints.

Modern Taiwanese sheets of cash, made from recycled paper, sold very cheaply by weight in Taipei.

Mock money and other ceremonial papers for religious ceremonies will be gathered in "bowls" of crude papers, usually made of a mixture of rice-straw and bamboo fibers.

The simplest form of mock money is made traditionally with thin layers of tinfoil affixed to the center of a small piece of bamboo paper, although in contemporary production the cheapest grades of machine-made paper will be used instead, and in Taiwan and Malaysia metallic inks may be used instead of tinfoil.

Here's a piece of mock money in traditional colors with auspicious designs, and tinfoil brushed over with a dye from the pagoda tree to make it resemble gold.

Contemporary Taiwanese ceremonial paper.

Another variety of gold mock money, with inscriptions and symbols for good fortune building up the design, usually still quite well printed from woodblocks on fairly good quality paper, but sometimes now mass-produced by offset lithography.

Contemporary ceremonial paper printed letterpress on a stout machine-made paper in Hong Kong. The yellow coloring might have been brushed on by hand, but otherwise production of these attractive sheets has been mechanized completely.

At the Feast of Hungry Ghosts many large sheets of paper with pictures of all the clothes one's ancestor could need are burned. Although images of the paraphernalia of modern life like cell phones and computers might be printed on these papers, the clothing is always of traditional style.

Red paper envelopes with good luck symbols have been used for many years to enclose gifts of money made at New Year. They may be found wherever any ceremonial papers are sold; today usually with elaborate and eye-catching gold-stamping.

Decorative Sunday

The examples shown here are original paper samples included in Roderick Cave's (1935-2019) two-part article on "Ceremonial Papers of the Chinese" published in Matrix 12 (Winter 1992, pp. 51-66) and Matrix 13 (Winter 1993, pp. 161-177), printed at the John and Rosalind Randle’s Whittington Press in Risbury, Herefordshire, England.

In these articles, Cave, a noted print historian, librarian, and educator, discusses the history, manufacturing, printing, distribution, and uses of Chinese ceremonial papers used in rituals, celebrations, and festivals associated with the gods and the ancestors.

Our copies of Matrix are a donation from our friend Jerry Buff.

View more posts on Chinese papers.

View other posts associated with Roderick Cave.

View more Decorative Sunday posts.

#Decorative Sunday #Matrix 12 #Matrix 13 #Matrix #Whittington Press #Decorative Paper #Chinese ceremonial papers #ceremonial papers #Roderick Cave #Ceremonial Papers of the Chinese #John and Rosalind Randle #decorative arts #Jerry Buff

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solutionssupplybase · 8 months ago

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The Advantages and Considerations of Buying Products from China

China has become a global manufacturing hub, producing a vast range of products from electronics to clothing to industrial components. For businesses worldwide, buying products from China offers numerous advantages, including cost savings, scalability, and access to a broad spectrum of goods. For Know more information visit our website.

#Buying products from china #Machined parts china

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mamayura · 3 months ago

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Official episode names of season 6 + my speculations based on their names:

Climatiqueen: seems self-explanatory. Hopefully Aurore gets to finally matter again. Would be fitting that the akuma that started it all gets to ring in the new story arc

Dessinatriste: Dessinateur means designer or illustrator, and Dessinatrice is the female form. So I think it's more likely a female character.

Sublimation: is the process of anything solid turning into gas without first becoming liquid. I've got no clue in this one. Btw, I checked, and no, Sublimation is not the name of one of the season 5 episodes.

Daddycop: Maybe a reference to Robocop? Possibly a Sabrina episode.

Papys Garous: loups-garous are werewolves in French. So probably a continuation of season 3's Papa Garou (Weredad) with Ronald instead because Papi is French for Grandpa (and Papa is Dad)

Princesse Syren: First instinct is going with a continuation of season 2's Syren, so an Odine and Kim episode.

El Toro De Piedra: El Toro is Spanish for "The Bull" and Piedra is "Stone", so The Bull of Stone / The Stone Bull. Definitely a Spanish character.

Vampigami: Im pretty sure there is no other French word "Vampi" could be referring to besides vampires. But I wouldn't necessarily say it refers to Kagami. We thought the same about Optigami, too, and the it referred to origami. Who knows, maybe it's also the word "Pig" and "ami" (French for friend) we were supposed to pick up on? Maybe something with Rose? Her French hero name is Pigella too?

Monsieur Agreste: probably a continuation from "Gabriel Agreste" and lively further backstory.

Le Château Noir: considering that Monsieur Agreste and Le Château Noir are episodes 9 and 10, and therefore an episode pair, it's possible that the Noir part is referring to Adrichat. But in French Darkblade was named Le Chevalier Noir and Dark Owl is named Le Hibou Noir. So the new episode being names The black/dark Castle doesn't need to necessarily refer to Adrichat.

Revelator: im gonna go with continuation of Cerise's season 5 episode "Revelation"

Psyconductrice: Psyco likely has the same meaning as it had with Psycomedian. Conductrice seems to be some kind of female driver of a transportation machine.

Yaksi Gozen: Definitely a Tomoe episode. Her first form was Ikari Gozen and then Ikari Dozen. Though I'm not sure what exactly Yaksi is supposed to refer to. Gozen means Lady as far as I know. Tomoe's name is a reference to a Japanese legend of a female warrior named Tomoe Gozen (Lady Tomoe). Ikari means rage. But all I kind find for Yaksi is a Buddhist goddess. Not unlikely since the Miraculous are supposed to be from China, but maybe I'm just missing something here?

Couchorak: not gonna lie, I'm lost on this one.

La Redresseuse: hmmm. Le redresseur is "rectifier" in French. So something with electricity and its definitely a female character.

Noe: I've got no idea.

La Fée De Beaux Rêves: The fairy of beautiful dreams. Maybe we get some backstory on Marinette's Knitting Fairy childhood dream? Or something else connecting to the childhood dream theme going on?

Les Cassetastrophes: Cassettes now mostly are connected to video tapes, right? And the name uses plural for whoever those catastrophes are. Maybe backstory on André's movie with Emilie and Tomoe? Cause in season 4, we saw that Tomoe was apparently of it too when she was younger and she looked exactly like Kagami

Riginarazione: hmm. I think another episode diving into Cerise's character. Razione is a (food) portion, and Rigi is a famous mountain in Switzerland that's called the Queen of mountains. In Italien, Queen in regina. Combining Rigi and Regina you get Rigina and then you add razione. Cause Lila was Cerise's Italien identity and I'm pretty sure that in the story board version of the season 5 Cerise in the end applied for school in an identity from Switzerland.

Renverse-cœurs: I think here renverse (NOT reverse) means something like fallen? So fallen hearts? Love square, you good?

Les Titans Chaînes: the titan chains? That sounds ominous

Lady Chaos: let's prey we'll finally get a fucking Ladybug akuma. Still think they wasted the name Miracle Queen, but Lady Chaos would fit well too.

Tristanansi: probably Alya's big sister being reakumatized into Anansi, and of course the Triste part meaning sad. So Alya episode.

La Reine de Frayeurville: The Queen of + ville means town/ city and frayeur means fright (and similar words). So the Queen of Frighttown? A Halloween episode?

Protocole Secret: im pretty sure that's self-explanatory.

And, Nemesis: not just a word for someone's arch-enemy, but also the name of the Greek Goddess of Retribution.

#ml spoilers #ml season 6 #ml speculation #miraculous #ml #miraculous ladybug

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typewritingyip · 2 months ago

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The Arcturus Missions

Part Nineteen - Radio Waves

Part Eighteen

———

Back on that September day in 1984, scientists were more concerned with making a better bomb than they were anticipating needing to drastically change direction.

The first countries to have mech technology were, in order; Japan, the United States, the USSR, Ireland, and China. Japan had initially been working on the technology for deep sea exploration along with nuclear power plant maintenance and construction, effectively a way to use a human operator in environments non-conducive to human life. They had their first pilot ready and capable within six months of the first attack, Pilot 001, name Kantaro Tomiyama, died two years after the first attack.

Another four months after their first launch, the United States had their first suit and pilot, no number was assigned initially, now recognized as Pilot 002, name William Witwicky, callsign Sparkplug. He died three months into the program, many of his immediate successors remain alive though no longer pilot mech suits, his son is a notable engineer along with several other family and family friends.

People wondered initially where Ireland obtained the materials for their three launched mechs at the defense of the Isle of Man, then people began to see the similarities between the structural supports in the suits to oil rigging equipment in the North Sea.

As the list grew larger and more countries were able to provide assistance in the battle, the compatibility technology began to advance, no longer were pilots being jury rigged into the technology but adapted into the brain of the machine. Yet side effects remain, as human biology struggles to adapt to the needs of advancing technology. Though scientists continue to try and adapt the systems to be more compatible with biology.

All modern pilots have extended lifespans thanks to the sacrifices of these pioneers of mech technology.

—

It was still very bright in Iacon, even as it started to grow later in the day, Mirage was walking with Hound, smiling, “So, how do you find Iacon? Now that you’ve lived here for a bit.” Nodding a bit, Hound shrugged slightly, “It’s a beautiful city. Certainly bigger than any on Earth.” Of course it would be bigger, human cities were designed for significantly smaller beings but Mirage chuckled still, “It’s bigger than most on Cybertron to be fair and has been around for a very long time.” They go through the gate and back down to the road, Mirage walking with his hands folded behind his back, “But it’s home.” That brought Hound a bit of pause and he smiled some, “I almost forgot you said you were from here.” Mirage’s smile was bright, “Forged and educated, though north of here,” He gestures to some of the taller structures in the distance, “I don’t spend much time in that part of Iacon anymore, it’s lovely of course but to be out of the way from everything and work.” Hound tilted his head slightly, “Then do you live closer?” Mirage, nodding gesturing in the same direction as where he was staying, “Most of us live towards the markets, too much happens on that side of town to not have rapid responders.” Hound hummed, nodding a bit again.

The buildings blocked the sun some, much to Hound’s relief as his head still ached, his hand came up and held it for a second. Mirage was looking around absently before looking at Hound and resting a hand on his shoulder, “Hound, are you alright?” Nodding a bit, Hound sighed a bit painfully as the sun his his visual feed again, “Yes, I am alright, just trying to manage a migraine.” Frowning, Mirage glances around before taking his arm and starting to lead them, “Come on, I know a place where you can have a moment of peace. I understand you’ve been sharing a living space with your entire unit, that would hardly be restful.” Shaking his head a bit, Hound covers Mirage’s hand with his own, “Mirage—“ Who was already shaking his head, “No, meetings like the one today are taxing enough, you don’t need to return to a hab full of chaos with a migraine.” He nearly stumbled when Mirage dragged him around a corner and started down some stairs.

”Mirage, where are we going?” With a shake of his head, Mirage kept hold of Hound’s arm, “Someplace quiet at the very least.” He finally slowed down outside of a shorter building, Mirage sighed and started inside, “It’s still early enough in the cycle that most people won’t come in till later,” the inside was pleasantly dark, with only quiet music coming from the speakers nearby. There were booths and tables, but also some low slung chairs, the bar was in the center of the building with soft lightly and a mech behind it cleaning some cubes, “Afternoon Mirage,” Mirage raises a hand briefly before leading Hound to one of the areas with the low chairs, “Sit down and relax, I’m going to get something to eat and join you. Just, try to ease your migraine.” He smiled softly before heading back towards the bar.

Hound sighed and turned off his visual feed, turning down the lights in his suit for a moment, then disabling the assistance suit for a moment to grab his water pouch and some pain killers. They were starting to run low on the ones from Earth, he frowned at the ones in his hand for a moment. How could the smallest things make you homesick, shaking his head a bit he takes the pills quickly before turning the mobility back on and his visual feed on low just as Mirage came back over with a cube.

After taking the other chair, Mirage sips from his cube, “Are migraines typical for you?” Shrugging a bit, Hound adjusts the setting on his visor, “It’s common to get them after the compatibility programming, it’s just a side-effect.” He sighs in a bit of relief once the worst of the glare was tuned out of his visual feed, “It was one of the many warnings we got during the testing process.” Mirage was frowning, leaning forward a bit, “The more I hear about this compatibility testing, the more concerned I grow.” Hound chuckled lightly, rubbing at his head, “It was necessary to be able to handle the upgrades, back in the beginning, they were just,” he pauses and sighs deeply, “They were just upgrading people, without the testing, and that got a lot of good people killed before they could become pilots.” Mirage winced, nodding slowly, “I’m sorry,” shaking his head, Hound held up a hand, “Don’t be, they didn’t know better. The technology was still so new at the time and everyone knew the risk.” Hound looked down for a moment before sitting back in the chair.

Mirage was staring and Hound shifted a bit, shaking his head a bit uncomfortably, “You know, the staring makes it feel like you’re trying to see my soul.” He chuckles a bit even as Mirage leans back slightly, Hound sighs, “I take it the word soul translated to spark, huh?” “How’d you know that?” Shrugging, Hound turned down his visor as he darkened his visual feed, “Jazz said it would.” They drifted easily into quiet togetherness, Mirage sipping from his cube as Hound turned off his visual feed and closed his eyes for a bit.

—

To be fair, they got their inspiration from a TV show about a war, so it was only right that they do this now. Jazz was watching as Sunstreaker adjusted the hot plate, shifting the cube before sealing it again, finally sticking one of the copper tubes through, “Now we have a functioning, hopefully, gin still.” Sideswipe was grinning, scratching at his jaw lightly, Sunstreaker shakes his head, hands on hips, “This is the stupidest thing we could have done.” Jazz grins, “Which is why it’s great, come on. If this works we’ll be able to wind down when we have down time,” he moves over and leans down to watch the contents bubble in the cube, “Wow.” They all take a step back to watch with a grin.

The door to the bedroom opened and Breakdown came out, wearing his helmet and visor, tinted as dark as it could be as he made his way to the table, “What are we all doing today?” Sideswipe grinned and leaned over to the ladder, offering the man a hand up as Breakdown climbed the steps, “Making alcohol.” Breakdown’s eyes shined, “You got the copper?” Sunstreaker looked over, “Wait, how do you know about this? Sides only told me a few days ago.” Waving it off, Breakdown goes over and looks over the still, “Who do you think told him to get the oversized cube? It will be easier to maintain than a typical copper still, that is for certain.” He was smiling, though clearly his own head still ached from the concussion. Glancing around at everyone and their suits resting across the room, Breakdown pauses, “Where’s Hound?” Jazz sighs a bit, “At a meeting with high command. We all were supposed to attend but the poor guy has a migraine.” Each pilot winced, Sunstreaker lightly brushing a hand over his own implants, Breakdown adjusted his helmet slightly, darkening his visor more.

Sideswipe lightly scratches at his implants, “Do you think it's a normal migraine or an overuse one?” Jazz sighed, “Overuse, I got them all the time when I first got out here, they started around this time for me.” Sunstreaker swore and sat down heavily on one of their makeshift chairs, “It can’t be overuse yet, right? I mean, we all disconnect at night.” With a slight shake of his head, Jazz gives a so-so hand gesture, “Hound also works more than the rest of us, as commander he has to stay up longer for more meetings and things, I just would debrief with Prowler but overuse systems are coming for us all, other than maybe Breakdown, Mr. I-have-concussion-and-get-two-weeks-off.” Breakdown snorts a bit and easily flips Jazz off, “Stuff it Jazz.” Sideswipe had the best reaction, hands going up, “Woah, watch out, the old man is angry!” They all get a laugh out of it, smiling and watching the still bubble and steam lightly, enjoying the moment of peace, trying to not think of the overuse side effects that would come for them all.

—

When the lights came on Hound had to suppress the wince, Mirage had finished his first drink a while ago but had ordered a second in a significantly different color. They were sitting around, not really talking but being able to enjoy one another’s company without gunfire forcing them together. The music started to turn louder and Hound had to pause, frowning at the nearest speaker, “Wait, wait, has it been playing this the whole time?” Mirage frowned and leaned towards one of the speakers before pulling back and rubbing his audial as it increased in volume, “Yeah, the old mech picked up this frequency a few years ago and it brought in a load of new customers after the war. Nobody knows what it is but a bunch of mecha seem to like it.” Hound tilted his head slightly, “I know what this is.” He smiles a bit and starts to nod, “Yeah, yeah this is 102.7 out of California.” His foot tapped lightly.

”Wait, this is from Earth?” Nodding, Hound smiles, “Yeah, it’s from Earth. Yeah, this is Rick Dees, listen.” They both leaned in as a voice carried over the waves, “This is K-I-I-S F-M, Los Angeles. I’m Rick Dees and these are the hot hits.” Before a song started to pour from the speaker and Hound laughed, covering his mouth, “This is from the eighties. This is from home.” Mirage stared at him, smiling a bit, “I take it you liked this frequency?” Hound nodded and rubbed his jaw, “Yeah, I listen to it whenever I’m in Los Angeles, which is more than I would like.” Slowly, he pushes off the chair and moves closer to one of the speakers, starting at the odd connection to home, “I thought I’d be stuck listening to the twins mixtapes for the rest of my life.” Mirage gets up and moves over, resting a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t know what a mixtape is, but I am glad to see you happy.” Hound nodded some, smiling as the tones of Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper flowed.

Mirage watched, shaking his head a bit, “I don’t know what’s being said.” It clicked for a moment and Hound turned to look at him, “Ah, well, the songs just starting and it starts with,” he clears his throat a bit, “Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you.” He wasn’t singing it, not even close, but Mirage looked ready to melt, “A lot of her music is like this and she’s an amazing artist.” Mirage nodded and smiled some, “Uh, you listened to a lot of music?” Nodding, Hound looked to the speaker again, “Whenever I could, if I could afford the tapes or CD’s, um, compact disks.” It clearly soured Mirage’s mood, “Afford?” Hound sighed deeply, “Yes, I don’t know how many times I have to bring up the cost of living to get it through your processors. Music and entertainment were luxuries that we couldn’t always afford.” He crosses his arms and stares at the speaker, sighing a bit, “Radio was free, if you could tune in,” his hand brushed over the speaker for a moment and he whispers, “Millions of miles and it’s still so clear.” Then his fist collided with the wall and Mirage took his arm, shaking his head some, “Come on, don’t be like that. Just enjoy the music. Don’t think about the mission for a klick or two.” Sighing slowly, Hound turned and looked at Mirage, nodding. Mirage smiled and offered a hand, “Come show me what this human music is about, huh?” Hound, shaking his head slightly, takes his hand, “You’re crazy.” Mirage smiled wider, “And you’re feeling better. Besides, we agreed to talk about your home the next time we were in Iacon." He spreads his free hand wide, “Welcome to Iacon.” Hound laughed and followed Mirage to the bar, leaning against it, though his visual feed was still turned down to the bare minimum and audio sensors only tuned for Mirage and now the music, a few more hours here wouldn’t kill him.

———

A/N

Alright, sort of a short one today but I wanted to get a part up on Christmas for everyone to read when they need to avoid their family. Late on Christmas but still.

I swear I am going to write more for the twins, Breakdown, and Jazz next chapter I just have an easier time writing for Hound, even though he is a little OOC. I promise man’s love for nature and stuff is coming.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @dimencreasatlas @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @starscreamloverfr @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @blue-wrens @sirassban @astridkolch @cosmique-oddity @garbageenthusiast @osqindaxend @xervias

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU!

#transformers #maccadam #tf mecha universe #mech pilot jazz au #jazz #breakdown #hound #sideswipe #sunstreaker #mirage #the arcturus missions

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easternmind · 1 year ago

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The weird and wonderful history of Kowloon as a digital interactive space - Part I

The Kowloon Walled City was one of the most emblematic locations in Hong Kong due to its irregular, fast-paced and largely ungoverned growth within a minute parcel of land. During the occupation of Hong Kong Island by the British in the mid 18th century, the Qing authorities surrounded the area with walls, turning it into a strategic position from where to closely inspect the foreign nation's covert activities. Almost a century later, during World War II, the area was seized by the Japanese, who tore down the walls and repurposed the stone for the construction of a nearby airport.

After the war, China would eventually regain possession of the city, though the disinterest of local authorities in addressing its increasing social disturbances placed it in a downward path to a state of utter degradation. By the 1970s, Kowloon had become the epicentre of Hong Kong's criminal underworld, dominated by a handful of its most vicious Triads.

Towards the last years of its existence, the ancient settlement was as a precarious heap of concrete, sheltering nearly half a million people within less than seven acres of land. Cultural and political changes in China made it increasingly difficult for this urban anomaly to remain unaddressed. In the late 1980s, an action plan was put together aiming to relocate its inhabitants and reconvert the real estate into an inner-city park. Stories about residents refusing to leave their unsafe and unsanitary homes were featured prominently in newspapers, baffling readers all over the world. Once the single most densely populated area in the world, this enclave was an architectural aberration whose disconcerting aesthetic influenced numerous works of art in different fields of creation; including a small yet consequential number of video games that briefly reference or prominently feature this abominably transfixing space.

九龍島 (Kyu-Ryu-Tou) - Starcraft - 1986

The year is 2025. An arms dealer escalates the tensions between East and West by developing a genetic weapon in a secret base at Kowloon Island. The United Nations react by sending in their best man, Jamie Starr. Unrelated to the Walled City itself, the first game to be located in the Kowloon peninsula - and indeed include the name as a part of its title - is this obscure turn-based RPG, Kyu-Ryu-Tou for the NEC PC88 and FM-77 machines. The game is a sequel to Shangai, released the year before, featuring the same protagonist. Starcraft would also go on to produce a third instalment in 1987 named TO.KY.O. Clearly there wasn't much regard here from the developers part for geographic accuracy, as Kowloon is depicted here as being an island. While Hong Kong's southern territory is composed of an actual island, all the different areas named Kowloon are located in the mainland.

Riot City - Westone - 1991

One of the most shameless specimens among a relatively long list of Final Fight clones, Riot City contains subtle references to Kowloon, though never referring to it by name. Two narcotics detectives are assigned with the mission of dismantling a cartel running a crime-ridden located in fictional Riot Island. This recurring yet geographically nonsensical notion of Kowloon as an island comes up here, yet again. The final moment of the introduction sequence for this minor Sega arcade success shows both protagonists approaching a tight cluster of buildings whose source inspiration is quite unmistakable. Because Westone maintained ownership of most of this production's intellectual property, a later port to the PC Engine entitled Riot Zone was made possible with the help of Hudson soft. Kowloon's Gate - Zeque - 1997

Reviving the Walled City through the lens of cybermystic surrealism, Kowloon's Gate is a dense, daunting adventure masterfully capturing the slum's dark and narrow recesses. This 1997 Japanese Playstation exclusive spans across four discs of unparalleled full motion 3D CGI spectacle, alternating with real-time 3D dungeons brimming with outlandish characters and concepts deeply inspired by Chinese history, geography and cultural traditions.

Ironically, Zeque managed to embed the theme of Feng-Shui, the ancient geomantic art seeking harmony between the individual and their surrounding space, into a story set in the world's most historically untidy district.

SaGa Frontier - Square - 1997

SaGa Frontier takes place in a solar system named The Regions, composed of multiple inhabited worlds for the player to explore, each with its different degree of civilizational development and culture. One of these planets goes by the suggestive name K��ron. Its pervasive neon light signs, food stalls, makeshift cabins and rooftop scaffolding instantly evoke the memory of China’s so-called city of darkness.

Shadow Hearts - Sacnoth - 2001

Shortly after the release of Koudelka, Sacnoth's initiated the development of Shadow Hearts, the first episode from a cult RPG trilogy exclusively designed for the Playstation 2. In good Japanese fashion, the game proposes an anachronistic yet visually suggestive depiction of Kowloon, portraying its architectural style and degree of decay as it existed in the late twentieth century, despite the fact that the game's events take place during the nineteen twenties.

Just as noteworthy is the almost complete absence of any inhabitants, which inadvertently make this portrayal of the quarter eerily reminiscent of the state in which it was found circa 1993 or 1994, as local authorities brought the long, arduous eviction project to a close.

Shenmue II - SEGA AM2 - 2001

Shenmue II exhibits the most complete and period-accurate video game representation of Kowloon to date. While more recent games featuring this area may represent a number of its aspects with the aid of improved visual fidelity, none features it with such depth as this masterpiece of masterpieces. More than mere background decoration, Kowloon exists in the Shenmue series as a crucial, climacteric element of its modern epic narrative.

It is a well known fact that Yu Suzuki and his team conducted extensive research of the region so as to achieve a result that impresses even to this day. It must be noted, however, that they have similarly taken a fair share of creative liberty when converting the area to best align with the themes they wished to explore. Further reading is required for a more complete context in this regard, namely how this area ties with an early Dreamcast tech demo design which fans lovingly named Tower of Babel. Ostensively, technical limitations did curtail the degree of precision in which the surrounding area could be replicated. The aerial view from the cutscene in which Ryo Hazuki arrives on location places Kowloon at an imaginary degree of elevation over surrounding vegetation. In the year of 1987, during which the game is set, the actual enclave stood perfectly levelled with a myriad of other modern buildings, undoubtedly more than could be reproduced under the circumstances. These trifling considerations aside, Shenmue II entirely succeeds in capturing the vibrant life and mesmerizing beauty of the destitute and decayed urban agglomeration, in a way that it was deemed entirely impossible at the time of its release.

For reasons entirely related to per post content limitations imposed by Tumblr, this article will be continued in PART II.

#china #hong kong #kowloon #kowloon walled city #videogames #Kyu-Ryu-Tou #riot city #saga frontier #kowloon's gate #shenmue ii

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silence-ofthe-llamas · 2 months ago

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More stuff inspired by the mecha AU but unfortunately not following the lore pls forgive (I don't know if they want to be tagged as it's not canon compliant as it were, but original concept by @/keferon!)

The awaited Jazz/Prowl chapter I promised and then promptly forgot to post! Warning for major character death (mentioned/off-screen). Sorry, Jazz...

Petteri sighed, long deep and heavy, as he walked down the catwalk to the mech.

Apparently, not long after he’d been stationed on the base, the mech had taken itself offline. The technicians had taken a look at it. They’d flown in specialists from China, from the US, even Iceland. None of them could explain what was wrong with it. It just… didn’t want to wake up any more. The AI had decided it had had enough.

They’d slated it for destruction. Petteri was to take one last inspection, one last look, to give it one more go, before they took it for scrap parts, cannibalised it to keep their other mechs going. He didn’t know why they sent him. He’d never done an inspection like this before – he was as out of his depth as a fish out of water. But the higher ups had pushed him forwards, Swindle was eager to claw his money back on what he’d pissed down the drain on this mech, as he’d so eloquently put it, and so here he was. An untrained eye glancing over a state of the art machine as if he knew a damn thing about it.

He felt so drawn to the mech, like he had a sense of duty towards them - maybe it was the fact that his arrival seemed to have triggered the change? That they had a strange familiarity about them? He didn’t know.

He twisted his ring on his finger, feeling it run across his skin.

The old him would have been thrilled to step inside of the mecha, the pinnacle of the programme he was the poster child for. The old port in the back of his head ached. Be careful if you interface, the technician had warned him, gulping his too hot coffee that steamed up his glasses. Your old gear isn’t up for the job. If you’re plugged in for too long, it will fry you nice and crispy.

But now, he was decrepit and grouchy and a warning against that programme. It will take everything from you. You will gain nothing back.

“Let’s get this over with.” Petteri sighed. Reaching the console, he paused for a moment to look at the mech. A dim blue visor, a black helm. The opening hatch was at its chest, an expanse of white with blue stripes. Black shoulders were either side, blades going up the arms. All sharp edges and smooth, sleek design. It was a damn shame to lose any of it.

With a lump in his throat, Petteri adjusted his tie and looked for the button that opened the hatch.

The chest cracked whilst his hands were still firmly on the clipboard. He froze as the entrance to the cockpit revealed itself, the floor sliding out to cover the gap between catwalk and mech. The lights twinkled invitingly, and Petteri looked around.

Nobody. Just him. It was the night shift - they tended to be a bit quieter, and there was no reason for anyone to be out in the hangar except for him. There were no alarms. The pilots were all sleeping – either recovering from the days fight (no casualties this time, thank goodness) or preparing for the next one.

Cautiously, he approached. Maybe his proximity sensors were still active, and detecting a pilot had automatically sent the command to open. His equipment may have been old and unmaintained, but it was still usable. It still responded when it received a ping. It made complete and total sense that the mech would be able to receive the message from the antiquated technology.

Right?

The cockpit was warm. He could feel the rumbling of online systems beneath his feet, and he ran his hand over the back of the chair.Well, the mech wasn’t exactly offline. But they weren’t online either. Just… stuck. Waiting for something. In stasis until the correct launch code had been received.

The cockpit closed near silently - it was only the click of the bolt sliding into place that alerted him that he was now locked inside of it. Tutting and starting to think that this was now some kind of joke that was going to be going too far, Petteri turned on his heel and clipped towards the console, beginning to type in the code to open them-

The room was suddenly bathed in blue light, and the sound system chimed. Petteri looked up at the screen.

[<3 Prowler <3]

The corner of his lips tugged down and his heart twisted painfully in his chest.

The joke had been mildly annoying a minute ago. Now it was downright cruel.

“That is NOT funny.” Petteri scowled, glaring at the cameras. “Stop that immediately. Let me out. Now.”

The door didn’t move. The message continued to be displayed on the screen.

Petteri felt a crack.

There was only one person - one person in the whole entire world, the universe, who ever called him Prowler. The ring was the only thing he had left of them, a heavy weight that choked him. To everyone else, he was Prowl. His callsign. Simple, easy, monosyllabic. Quick off the tongue and quick in the field.

But to Jasper? His Jazz? Prowler. Only he was allowed to call him that. It was private, something between them and them alone, something they didn’t have to share.

And it was taunting him on the screen.

[I MISSED YOU SO MUCH]

Prowl didn’t reply. His vision was going red, he could feel heat prickle up his spine and flow down into his hands clenching them into fists. The clipboard rattled and creaked beneath his fingers and he ground his teeth.

Emergency escape it was, then. He stalked to the button, flicking off the protective cover and making to press it when the message on the screen changed again. He glanced up at it more out of habit more than sense, and paused.

[CAN WE TALK? PLEASE? I’VE WAITED FOR SO LONG]

He loudly swore and threw the clipboard at the floor. Damn it all, damn his weak and pathetic self for falling for this. He’d felt a brief moment of accepting he would be engaging with whatever fucked up ideas his tormentors had cooked up for him, and the crack had widened.

Jazz would have taken the bait. He’d have been curious enough to do it.

He wasn’t Jazz. He never would be. But fuck if he wished Jazz had been the one who had made it instead of him - he’d navigate whatever was left with so much more grace than he had.

So he took a moment to furiously pace and calm himself enough to throw himself into the chair, arms folded crossly, and tapping his foot.

“Well? What else have you got to hurt me with?”

[I’M SORRY]

[I WANTED TO SEE YOU SO BADLY]

[I DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU]

Prowl frowned at the screen.

“… Who are you?”

[DESIGNATION: JAZZ]

It was like a lance through his chest, and he winced. Prowl had avoided looking at or thinking of the mecha’s name to keep himself from feeling the agony of it. He held the ring a little tighter, pushing it up against his finger.

He knew Jazz’s heartbeat - how could he ever forget it? It was tattooed onto his heart. Its waves were engraved into his wedding ring, he stared at the imprints of it on his finger on the rare moments he removed it. The ring as as much a part of him as his limbs were, and in turn so was the sound of Jazz’s heart.

So, pray tell, why could he hear it in the mecha?

“Who are you really? My… partner, is dead.” He was gripping the arm of the chair tightly. He slowly released one hand, each finger plucking off from the arm rest, and pressed it to his mouth. The ring glinted - a thick band of blue encased in shiny silver.

He felt the mech jolt.

[YOU’RE STILL WEARING IT?]

Prowl glanced down at the ring, watching how it caught the light.

“Every day.”

[MY NAME IS JASPER KORHONEN. WE WERE OFFICIALLY MARRIED ON THE 23RD OF APRIL BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WANT TO WAIT ANY LONGER, BUT WE HAD OUR WEDDING ON THE 27TH OF AUGUST AND THAT IS THE DATE THAT EVERYONE THINKS WE WERE MARRIED ON]

The number of people on the Earth who knew that were slim. Prowl knew those who did – many of them were now dead. The kind old lady at the council. Jazz’s brother. Jazz himself. The only two people alive on the planet who knew the real date were himself and Ironhide – and Ironhide only knew because he was his witness.

And Ironhide wasn’t the type to do this kind of thing.

“Oh, my god.” Prowls voice shook, and he tried to take a calming breath. “I don’t want to believe it. Is it really you?”

[IN THE FLESH. WELL. MESH? ARMOUR?]

“Jazz, please be serious, I am on the edge of another fucking breakdown.” Prowl held his face in his hands, planting his elbows onto his knees as he curled in on himself. His eyes burned and his vision blurred. He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. No, he’d spent so long in stupid fucking therapy sessions that didn’t do anything to scrub the sound of every bone in the love of his life’s body shattering out of his head, so much time trying medications that made him feel like he really were dead and pointless meditation tasks and behaviour therapy and-

He sobbed. He sobbed, and he fought to breath against the flood that coursed through him.

And Jazz waited patiently. He waited so very patiently for him, he dimmed the lights to make it softer for him, and he felt the air warm like a hug.

“What happened to you?” He finally asked, his voice weak and raspy, his eyes sore and swollen. “You’re meant to be AI’s – why…”

[SHOCKWAVE WANTED TO SEE IF IT WORKED] Jazz replied. [THE AI’S ARE LIMITED. THEY DON’T HAVE THE REAL LIFE EXPERIENCE THAT WE DO, THE RANGE OR ABILITY TO TAKE ON CHALLENGES OUTSIDE OF WHAT WE KNOW]

“So he tested on you?” Prowl frowned.

[I WAS DYING, THERE WAS NOTHING TO LOSE]

He knew he was. He remembered. He could still hear it, still feel it, if he let himself slip. The sound of the priests reading him his last rights on the battlefield whilst he was trapped, unable to get to him, was a significant cause of trauma - he could feel himself choke on blood that wasn’t there, feel broken bones he didn’t have, struggled for breath that he was free to take-

[IT’S OKAY, PROWLER - BREATHE WITH ME]

Prowl waved him off. He felt sick.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m.” He pressed his hand to his mouth, chewing on his index finger. “The brain deteriorates quite rapidly post mortem.” He got up to pace again. He felt the cameras in the cockpit train on him, watching him as he slowly walked up and down the short length of it. “He’d have to have been right there in situ with you…”

[I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, I WAS QUITE PREOCCUPIED WITH THE WHOLE DYING HORRIBLY THING]

Prowl had thought about that day a lot. It had haunted him, a constant spectre on the edge of his awareness. And so, he’d spent a lot of time mulling over the details. There had been a malfunction. Something had gone… wrong. Very, very wrong. For starters, they’d been separated. The old suits – the original ones that he was a pilot of – worked best in pairs. They augmented each other, two halves of one whole. Where one went, the other was to follow. Instead of being giant hulking suits of armour, they were much more compact. To be crude, they’d often referred to them as their Iron Man suits. Simply complex layers of metal that sat against their skin, making them stronger, faster, harder to hurt. It was perfect for what they later learned were the infants.

On the day the first juvenile Quintesson arrived, they learned two things. One, that their suits were absolutely not enough, and two, they’d need to get much, much bigger.

But Jazz was the only one to get that hurt. There were some, like Prowl, who had walked away with minimal injuries. A broken bone, bruises, fractures, the like. And others, with slightly more traumatic ones. Amputations. Burns. Multiple broken bones.

Jazz was the only one who was condemned.

“They always planned to harvest you.” Prowl slowly said in shock. He looked up at the screens as a proxy for Jazz’s face. “They were waiting for their opportunity. You don’t think…?”

[WITHOUT A SINGLE DOUBT, THEY CAUSED MY DEATH. THOSE SUITS DIDN’T JUST BREAK LIKE THAT]

Reading the confirmation on the screen made him feel dizzy. What did they do? Where did they go with that information? They must all know. The scum goes straight to the top of the pot. Ultra Magnus? Was he involved? Would he even listen? What about their investors? Sentinel might be interested to hear that they were harvesting soldiers for their so-called-AI’s, but there was only so much influence he had with men like Zeta and Galvatron on the board...

[PROWLER?]

“Yes, dear?” Prowl felt the corner of his lip tug up in a smile. Damn, it felt good to be able to say that to him again.

[AT THE RISK OF SOUNDING LIKE AN IDIOT, CAN YOU INTERFACE WITH ME? I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG, I DON’T WANT OUR ONLY CONVERSATION TO BE THIS. I WANT TO SEE WHAT YOU’VE BEEN UP TO]

He felt his hands drop to his sides. Two halves of him fought viciously.

His duty was to report this. His duty was to do something about this. The pilots deserved as much – the other potential victims deserved as much. Jazz deserved so much more than to be buried within metal casing, nothing more than a puppet to the people who put him there.

But fuck, he missed him. He missed him so, so much. Everything had been so cold and empty since he’d left, and he’d felt the warmth of his sun. It had begun to melt the ice that had formed around him…

He sat in the seat and buckled himself in. The helmet lowered into his waiting hands, and he put it on before activating the interfacing sequence.

Prowl expected the sharp sting. There always was one, no matter how many times you connected with someone. The initial rejection of two separate nervous systems, not recognising the other and primed to attack, followed by the gentle handshake between neural nets.

He still jumped. He felt Jazz chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah…” He muttered. He could feel a warm, familiar presence wrapping firmly around his own, and his eyelids fluttered closed and he leaned his head backwards to bask in the feeling of it.

“Don’t say anything about you knowing about me. Please.” Prowl felt phantom hands cradling his cheeks, a forehead pressed against his own. “The last pilot I had – he went missing not long after he figured it out. I’m an anomaly, Prowler – can I trust you to keep your head down? Just this once?”

He sighed. He’d always been so weak to him.

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Prowl could faintly see him with his eyes closed. If he focused on him, he vanished, faded away. He’d have to settle for the blurry image that felt like the sun.

“Now… tell me everything.” Jazz was grinning. He knew that much. And Prowl couldn’t help but grin back.

Two hours later, Prowl staggered out onto the catwalk, stumbling into the console. He held onto it for balance, digging the meat of his palm into his left orbital as he breathed in through his teeth. His previously pristine white shirt was spattered with red, his nosebleed being cast down from his breath. He counted back down from ten until the world stopped spinning again, and he found that he was not alone.

Swindle. He looked like a baby who had their lolly pop stolen. Prowl would have smirked if he had the energy to – he had been walking around with dollar signs in his eyes all day thinking of how much he could sell Jazz for. And behind him, Ironhide.

“’Hide.” Prowl forced himself to stand up straighter, wiping his nose on his sleeve. It bloomed red. “Get that mech back online and get me back on that programme right now.” He pointed at the back of his neck, where his implant was set, cradling the base of his skull, the skin around it red hot and inflamed. “And get me that upgrade. The mech responds to me.”

“B-but-!” Swindle began to protest.

“What did you do in there?” Ironhide demanded, reaching forwards to catch Prowl as he stumbled again. “You’re bleeding – you were in there for hours. You didn’t interface, did you?”

“I did.” He looked up at him with a wide grin that hadn’t been on his face since Jazz had taken his last name. “It felt just like the old days.”

Swindle gave him a strange look that Ironhide missed, but Prowl could have spotted from a mile away now that he knew to look for it. He returned it with narrowed eyes. He knew. Prowl knew.

I know what you did to my husband, you rotten bastard.

And it would be a cold day in hell before he even began to forgive any of them for it.

#jazzprowl #tf mecha universe #llama writes

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sugar-grigri · 2 years ago

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Yes, see Swordman announces that certainly the other "hybrids" including Reze are alive, but his presence raises more questions than it answers. Even if I'd like to see the way this chapter is cut, i.e. in three parts, already an element of answer.

The first part was a little confusing and contradictory, with the new bodyguard Fumiko, appointed by Yoshida to watch over and "protect Denji". But what really stands out for me is the line "you're the one and only Chainsaw Man!".

It's an answer that's already important, as it fits into a context in which Denji is increasingly stripped of his own identity as CSM, whether because of this impostor who represents the church, the church itself, the fans or the detractors. I had already analyzed the fact that CSM had become a collective essence rather than an individual identity. So to tell Denji YOU are Chainsaw Man is to give him back the link he has with himself.

But this line would be interesting in another context, and here we're getting into pure theory and personal speculation. To explain, let's break the chapter down into three parts. First, Denji and his relationship with Chainsaw Man, as we've just seen. Then, Asa, who is beginning to come to terms (positively) with her own popularity as the new heroine. And finally, Swordman, who appears at the end of the chapter and introduces himself as such.

My theory came from a single question: why did you present the chapter in this way? Why the ellipsis with Asa? Then continue with Swordman? I mean, Fujimoto did decide to bring these three elements together in a single chapter, so they must necessarily have some as-yet ungraspable narrative link.

I've been thinking about it, and there's a lot of mystery surrounding the "hybrids". We don't even know what they're called, since their names have been erased by Pochita, according to Makima. Which means that they represent a very special concept that Fujimoto intends to exploit. A concept surely more complicated than a human fused with a demon.

I've been thinking about this, and two main theories come to mind when I put together what little we know about them. Hybrids are immortal, or more precisely, they can be resurrected as long as they are given enough blood. There's something vampiric about that. Vampire in the sense that they're human-looking demons who need blood, literally. Another theory is more contextual, and that's the one I'm going to bring out today.

Have you noticed that all hybrid demons represent weapons, machines. Never a fear of a broad concept like the demons of the apocalypse, or of an animal like Beam, or stemming from natural reflexes like the fear of blood and the fear of falling?

My theory is that they are deeply artificial demons. This was more or less confirmed with Reze, who was a laboratory rat for the USSR, or Katanaman, who became what he is thanks to Akane Sawatari. What's more, hybrids are always more or less connected with the state, Reze with Russia, Quanxi with China, or Denji, whose public hunters are trying to get their hands on him.

I can't speculate any further, but the only thing I'm sure of is that "hybrids" have something to do with the evolution of the world. And when I mean "evolution of the world", I mean technological evolution, particularly of weapons.

Which brings me to my theory about chapter 138. There was always something I found unexploited about Chainsaw Man. Exploiting the relationship between mankind and demons, but in a different era, in the past.

When we return to the chapter, Denji and Chainsaw Man represent the heroes of the present, who threaten to be eclipsed by a new heroine, Asa, associated with the demon of war. Yoru would represent the future, which is why for me she refers so much to nuclear weapons, which remain the most advanced and dangerous weapon at the moment (along with hydrogen bombs, but you get the idea). Swordman, on the other hand, may represent the past, a hero from the past. I mean, people in the past weren't afraid of chainsaws or bombs, they were afraid of swords and crossbows.

Imagine how old immortal beings could be, representing traditional, ancient weapons? I think it's Quanxi aka the first devil hunter, or Swordman.

With this context, what Swordman says resonates even more, doesn't it? Who knows better the feeling of being forgotten than a hero of the past like Swordman? Hybrids are doomed to feel this sense of obsolescence.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think Swordman knows anything about this. He may have a few points from his past still fresh in his mind, but having been brainwashed by Makima, his memories are surely muddled. The fact remains that this link with the past and technological evolutions: hybrid demons are still those who have a direct relationship with the state and governments.

An important point, given that the Japanese government is the main antagonist in this story.

#chainsaw man #csm part 2 #csm spoilers #csm 138 #denji #quanxi #asa #asa mitaka #swordman #katanaman #makima #my thoughts

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girlactionfigure · 8 months ago

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Angel Named Angel: Angel Sanz Briz

Made Them Citizens Of Spain.

Angel Sanz Briz was a Spanish diplomat in Budapest who saved over 5000 Jews from the Nazis after Germany invaded Hungary in 1944.

Born in Zaragoza in 1910, Angel trained as a lawyer and in 1933 enrolled in diplomat school in Madrid. His first posting was to Cairo, Egypt, and in 1942 he was sent to Budapest, where he served as first secretary of the Spanish legation.

In March 1944, Germany invaded Hungary and the Nazis quickly began rounding up Jews for deportation. At this point in the war, Nazi genocide of the Jews ran like a well-oiled machine, and the Jews of Hungary were arrested with shocking speed.

Horrified at what was happening, Angel came up with a clever plan to save Jews. He told the Hungarian authorities that Spain was offering citizenship to Jews “of Spanish origin” – meaning Sephardic Jews, who trace their ancestry to Jewish communities that were kicked out of Spain in 1492. It was true that Spanish dictator Miguel Primo de Rivera had issued a decree to that effect in 1924, but Angel neglected to mention that the decree was canceled in 1930.

Unwilling to risk a dispute with Spain, Hungarian authorities begrudgingly told Angel he could issue passports to 200 Jews. Cleverly, Angel changed the order to read 200 Jewish families. When he reached the 200 family limit, he discreetly falsified documents to change the number, and he did this several times.

Officially, the Jews Angel was saving were supposed to be Sephardic, descended from Spanish refugees. However, the vast majority of Hungarian Jews were Ashkenazi rather than Sephardic. Undeterred, Angel simply claimed that all the Jews he was saving were Sephardic. He used his extensive contacts in Hungary to place the Jews in safe houses, where he personally gave them lessons in basic Spanish. This was enough to convince the Hungarian authorities, most of whom did not know any Spanish, that their “Spanish heritage” was genuine. When Angel ran out of Hungarians willing to take Jews into their homes, Angel purchased inexpensive properties with his own money. He decorated the buildings with prominent Spanish flags, marking them as officially part of Spain and therefore off-limits to the Nazis and Hungarian collaborators. The Jews staying in these safe houses couldn’t leave, so Angel brought them food, medicine, and other necessary supplies. Incredibly, he persuaded the Red Cross representative in Budapest to put Spanish signs on hospitals, clinics and orphanages where Jews were hiding to make sure everybody knew the occupants were under the protection of Spain.

Between June and December 1944, Angel issued fake Spanish passports to 5200 Jews, saving them from Nazi death camps and enabling them to live safely in Spain until the war ended.

Angel continued to serve as a diplomat after the war, with postings in San Francisco, Washington DC, Lima, Brussels and China, among other places. In 1977 he was appointed Ambassador to the Holy See in Rome, where he died in 1980. In 1991, Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem posthumously honored Angel Sanz Briz as Righteous Among the Nations, and in 1994 Hungary awarded him the Cross of the Order of Merit. A Spanish TV series about Angel Sanz Briz, called “El Angel de Budapest” aired in 2011. In 2015 a street in Budapest was named after this brave Spaniard.

For saving 5200 Hungarian Jews from Nazi death camps by making them citizens of Spain, we honor Angel Sanz Briz as this week’s Thursday Hero.

#Thursday Hero

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thespectrehauntingfodlan · 1 year ago

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I feel like a lot of people, and this is really more for Usamericans than those from other countries who don't have any exposure to the internal affairs of this particular nightmare country, truly do not grasp the scale and significance of the problems and horrors here?

Literacy will be mentioned and downplayed, but a full 20% of people living here are illiterate to a degree where they cannot interact with even basic writing. That's one in five people, or almost the population of the entirety of the United Kingdom. And that's only the population that either cannot read any words at all or cannot parse sentences, an equally large amount of people can only read at a very basic level, and can't interpret and extrapolate information from text that's not direct. This is not some cry about media literacy, this is about basic functioning in society and how many are left behind from a society that increasingly isolates and diminishes them.

Manufacturing will be mentioned, and the thought most will have is that American production has been gutted and outsourced (usually leading to hostility to places like China or Vietnam), which has some truth but much of American industry has been transfered from "free" workers to prison slave labor, with some states not paying prisoners forced to work at all and the most ""generous"" states paying them a seventh of the already laughable federal minimum wage, and with the government actually subsidizing this by giving corporations a $2400 tax credit per prisoner they "employ"

Prison will be mentioned but the sheer inhumanity and brutality will never be grasped even when people recognize elements of it (usually for what passes as comedy) the totality of it will never register. One out of five of all people incarcerated on Earth are in prison in America, subjected to conditions which regularly and frequently kill them or break them, and there's not even a consistent reporting measure for people who die in prison or jail, to say nothing of the police killings which dwarf the amount of people executed by the state, which has even less of a standard for reporting. One county was simply burying the people they killed in unmarked graves nearby and never reporting it or recording it, only being discovered after years almost on accident.

Homelessness is rampant but the numbers and methods for assessing the size of the unhomed population are pitiful at best and laughable at worst, regularly undercounting and diminishing the severity because those who are homeless are barely considered people to not just the government but in the perception imposed by society.

And none of that is touching on the scale of the imperial war machine which ravages the rest of the world, how there's no way to even know how many bases the US even has, how many people it kills, how many wars it fights, who it even supports. None of us touching on the non-military methods of support and control the US provides to its proxies and cronies who prop up its hegemony.

The scale of it all is just mind breaking and I have seen excellent writing and interrogation of parts but I don't feel like the overall picture is ever even glimpsed.

#I don't know how to tag this #I'm just screaming into the void basically #There's a dozen other things I should add but I lost steam writing this and trying to grapple with what I want to get across #It's overwhelming and intersecting #The decaying corpse of this empire strangling not only it's subjects but the whole planet #death to america #Basically #marxism

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