#NONE OF US CAN FUCKING MEET THE ASININE REQUIREMENTS

[the1trueanon]

man, very few things make you feel more useless and unaccomplished than trying to apply for scholarships TnT

[adverb-slut]

The Purgatory Hall Boys Are Bad at Road Trips (Fanfiction)

I just *clutches chest* really love the boys at Purgatory Hall and felt they needed more spotlight so here they are being big dummies on the road.  Oh, I also posted this on AO3 here. 

Title:

The Purgatory Hall Boys Are Bad at Road Trips

Summary:

On a R.A.D-sanctioned road trip to the Caverns of Degeneracy, the Purgatory Hall boys prove that they have just as many brain cells as the demon brothers (read: none).

Genre:

Humor/Fluff/Slice of Life

Rating:

T

Word Count:

6870

-

Hour 0

Our story begins just outside the gates of Purgatory Hall, where two of its three non-native Devildom residents stood near a rather expensive-looking, immaculately-maintained vehicle. 

The short, prone-to-fits-of-righteous-anger one yanked behind him a wagon, which was piled high with duffel and overnight bags, all made of a stiff white and gold fabric straight from the Celestial Realm.  

The other, older man, who never left home without a mysterious smile and his magic wand, too, tugged the handle of his own luggage—although his was a wheeled backpack which sagged due to the weight of the approximately seven-hundred souvenir keychains from around the Human World that he had clipped onto it.

The pair were waiting for their third friend—who, in every sense of the word, was an angel—as together they were planning to embark upon a new R.A.D tradition, which the Demon Prince Diavolo had appropriately christened—Our Annual Road Trip to the Caverns of Degeneracy (A.R.T C.D for short).  The Caverns of Degeneracy were on the far outskirts of the Devildom, over six-hundred-and-sixty-six miles away from the R.A.D campus, and yet, for some asinine reason, Diavolo had decided that they were the perfect spot for hosting the academy’s yearly Bleeding Hearts Festival.  

(Many of the Student Council Officers and faculty had wagered that the Demon Prince had just wanted an excuse to take a road trip—a phenomenon he had recently been introduced to through one of Leviathan’s video games.)

Diavolo himself planned for his personal driver to ferry him and his butler, Barbatos, up to the Caverns a day early so he could begin preparations for the festival and encouraged all students to find their own means of transportation in order to get to the event on time.

The R.A.D Student Council Officers—all of whom resided in the House of Lamentation—had decided to pile themselves into Asmodeus’ tour bus (he had bought it specifically because once he became a famous DevilTuber, he would need it to do meet-and-greets with his fans and also because it had a “bear-y adorable design”) and drive down together.  

As the Purgatory Hall boys had no modes of transportation to call their own, Lucifer had graciously allowed them to borrow Mammon’s Demonio 666 Lexura (fits had ensued à la the secondborn but were ignored), which both Luke and Solomon now hovered around.

However, as Solomon poked and prodded the vehicle, commenting admiringly under his breath at the paint job, the young angel peered nervously at the sorcerer’s backpack.  

He cleared his throat, bent on sounding as polite as possible—but failing miserably—and said, “Solomon, er—are you the one who’s bringing our road trip snacks?”  He followed this with a silent please say no, please say no, Father please let him say no.

Solomon raised an eyebrow.  “I thought you were bringing them.”

Luke dropped the handle of his wagon.  “No!  I would’ve made some snacks if I had the time but I was helping those,” he gagged, “wretched demon brothers pack using some low-level Celestial Realm magic.”  

“Oh, that’s right,” Solomon said, snapping his fingers.  “I just remembered that I volunteered to make the snacks, but Simeon heard and immediately offered to do it for me.  Then he sent me on a bunch of errands to buy groceries, but it felt more like he was trying to get me out of the kitchen.”  He laughed at the last part and shook his head because there was no way that such a criminally calm angel like Simeon would be that underhanded.  

“No!” wailed Luke, yanking his hat off and clutching it to his chest in despair.  “Don’t you know what this means?”    

“It means you don’t like Simeon’s cooking as much as you let on,” decided the sorcerer with a smile at Luke’s theatrical display.

Luke shook his head so vigorously that Solomon had to hold in a laugh based on how much the angel looked like a chihuahua shaking itself dry.  “For trips, Simeon only makes the most nutritious, most energizing food.”  He screwed up his face in disgust as he seethed, “The most disgusting food.”

“The stuff Simeon cooks for dinner isn’t particularly unhealthy and you seem to like that just fine,” pointed out Solomon.

Luke frowned.  “Yes, b—but I’m talking about real healthy stuff here, so we’ll all have lots of energy throughout the trip!  L—like entire salads squished between two pieces of bread and ‘yummy morsels’ of banana slices dipped in cashew butter and drizzled with mung bean and coconut water paste!”  He gestured toward himself.  “Look at me, Solomon!  I was made for jam-filled pastries and perfectly-iced cakes!  No—not,” he shuddered, “health foods.”

“You’re serious?  He’s really going to bring that kind of stuff?” Solomon’s eyes widened.  “I guess I should’ve given in to my gut intuition and made some pork pies as backup snacks.  ‘Snackups,’ if you will.”

Luke could feel bile rising up his throat at the thought of Solomon’s cooking.  “Er—no, I don’t think that would’ve been necessary!”  He spotted a figure exiting Purgatory Hall.  “Oh, look, there’s Simeon, now; we can just ask him what snacks he brought.”

“And then burn them,” finished Solomon.

The younger angel gave a scandalized gasp at the comment as Solomon nodded at Simeon, who walked closer to the pair.  

A lone celestial blue suitcase trailed behind the elder angel as he beamed at his traveling companions.  “Is everyone ready?”  Before waiting for an answer, he turned toward Luke with a gaze that was almost motherly in nature.  “And has everyone gone to the bathroom?  We only have a day to drive to the Caverns of Degeneracy and I want to see some of the Devildom sights along the way.  I even brought an instant camera to take pictures.”  

He pulled out from his cape pocket said camera and an enormous stack of printed DevilmapQuest directions and began to rifle through them, trying to decide which of the landmarks and tourist destinations he wanted to visit most.  

“S—Simeon!  Why did you have to stare at me when you asked if we all went to the bathroom?  I may be young, but I at least know that I should go to the bathroom before long car rides!”  He then blushed and handed Solomon his wagon handle.  “A—and that being said, I—I have to go to the bathroom.”

As he ran inside, Solomon peered over Simeon’s shoulder at the map sheets and laughed.  “You know, most of these directions are online.”

“I know, I know,” admitted the older angel.  “But reading the directions off of a D.D.D requires knowing how to operate one, and you know I’m not too good at that.”  

Solomon smiled and said, “That’s fine, then.  We three will take turns driving and meanwhile, one of the two who aren’t behind the wheel will navigate.”  

“Haha, you’re aware Luke can’t drive, right?” asked Simeon, turning to give Solomon a look that cautiously strode the line between tolerant and what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you.  

“Well, I guess he’ll be the one giving directions, then,” replied Solomon, without missing a beat.  He couldn’t help but silently add he’ll be doing that, either way.  

As Simeon continued to sort through the DevilmapQuest papers and double-check all the items packed in the messenger bag slung across his shoulder, Solomon began to load everyone’s luggage into Mammon’s car.  He couldn’t help but envision himself playing Tetris as he carefully arranged in the trunk the seven blocky bags that the group had among them—six of which belonged to Luke, who packed as if he were planning to change his clothes at least twelve times a day.    

His own backpack—and Simeon’s messenger bag—would be staying with the trio in the cabin space of the car.  He hadn’t felt the need to pack nearly as many outfits as Luke and most of his bag consisted of medical supplies, while Simeon’s was supposed to be filled to the brim with road trip snacks.

Speaking of snacks, Solomon felt his mouth turn dry as he mulled over the healthy monstrosities that Luke believed the older angel had created in place of actually palatable food.  He turned to Simeon.  “Er, Simeon—what’s on the menu in terms of snackage?”

“‘Snackage?’” Simeon laughed.  He pat his messenger bag and said, “Let’s see, well, whenever I go on long trips, I try to make foods that provide a lot of energy, since we’re going to need it—especially you and I, as we’ll be driving.  Here, I made dried, salted edamame and roasted chickpea trail mix, almond-butter-and-white-bean-stuffed dried dates, and oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean balls with dried pineapple, coconut, and avocado.”   

Solomon did not like how many times Simeon had mentioned “beans,” for as far as he was concerned, road trip food was junk food exclusively.  He took a deep breath and carefully twisted his mouth into a smile.  “That sounds well … delicious. Ten out of ten.”

“Excellent.  Now, where is Luke?”  Simeon peered behind them toward Purgatory Hall, where a munchkin of a silhouette now appeared.  “Ah, there he is.”  He tossed Solomon the keyring Mammon had tearfully given him the day before.  “Mind starting the car?”

Solomon nodded and after examining the gaudy charms that adorned Mammon’s keys, he clicked open the car and stepped toward the driver’s seat door.  “I’ll take the first shift.  It’ll take us fifteen hours of sheer driving to get to the Caverns of Degeneracy, so we’ll take three-hour turns.”  

As Solomon yanked the car door open, something tumbled out of the front seat.  He jumped back, and Simeon and Luke rushed toward the commotion.  

“M—Mammon?  What are you doing here?” exclaimed Luke.  

Simeon laughed, his brows furrowing in confusion.  “Hoping to hitch a ride?”

Solomon had to swallow his smile when he saw the almost-comical tears that ran down Mammon’s face.  “Did your brothers leave you behind?”

“N— no!  They’d never leave without me, The Great Mammon!”  Mammon hastily wiped his nose before sprawling his hands over his Demonio 666 Lexura.  “I just couldn’t fathom leavin’ my beloved baby for so long!  I had to say goodbye!”

“Speaking of saying goodbye, you do know that Asmo’s bus already left a few minutes ago, right?” asked Simeon.  “I caught a glimpse of them before I came out here and they were already on the road.”

Mammon’s face paled.  “Wh—what?  They wouldn’t! Wait—of course, they would!  Those bastards!”  He immediately turned into his demon form, planted a kiss on his car’s hood, and sped off into the horizon.

“I suddenly understand what the term ‘speed demon’ means,” commented Luke as he watched Mammon’s quickly disappearing form.

“I sure hope he manages to catch up to them,” Solomon said, rubbing his chin.  “Anyway, everyone, pile in.  It’s time to get this show on the road.”

Hour 1

After they had driven well out of the bounds of R.A.D’s campus, Solomon announced, “All right—first item on the agenda—”

Luke raised his hand from the back passenger seat as he strained against his seatbelt.  “—What’s an ‘agenda?’”

“Oh.  An agenda is basically a list of things we have to do,” explained Solomon.

Simeon’s eyes widened in concern.  “I didn’t know we had an agenda.”

Solomon nodded gravely.  “Oh, yes—an unwritten road trip one.  And the first thing on it is picking some tunes.”

Again, Luke raised his hand.  “I have a suggestion!  I have a suggestion!”  From the pocket of his shorts, he drew out a CD case labeled 1001 Hymns to Praise Him.  “This album is my personal favorite.”

Solomon began coughing violently in attempts to cover his laughter, while Simeon smiled and took the CD from him.  “That’s a great idea, Luke, but how about we play this when I drive, and when Solomon drives, he’ll pick the music.”

The sorcerer handed Simeon his D.D.D, keeping his eyes on the road as he instructed, “Here, go to my Akutify account and play my Travel playlist.  Hope you guys don’t mind that I managed to export my entire Spotify account onto Akutify, so we’re going to be listening to Human World songs for now.”

It took Simeon seven tries to carry out Solomon’s orders, but before long, “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys blared through the state-of-the-art stereo system of the Demonio 666 Lexura.  

Luke was silent for a few moments before he innocently asked, “I don’t understand, Solomon.  What do they want ‘that way?’”

Solomon shook his head.  “I’ve been trying to figure that out for years.”

Hour 2

It didn’t take very long for Simeon to discover the first location on his list of places to visit along their trip.  

“The Maw of Beelzebub,” Simeon breathed, taking in their dark, ashy surroundings from the passenger seat.  “I’ve seen it in pictures when I researched for TSL, but I never fathomed I’d get to see it in person.”

Luke pouted as Simeon exited the vehicle.  “Don’t tell me we’re going to see those dumb demon brothers.”

“Nope,” Solomon said, unbuckling Luke from his seat, despite the vehement protests from the little angel.  “The Maw of Beelzebub is a chain of three volcanoes, actually.  The two smaller ones that form the ‘eyes of Beelzebub’ are active, but the huge, massive one that we’re going to walk across by way of that bridge,” he pointed to a shaky overpass that was suspended over a volcano crater a thousand miles wide, “is dormant.  However, you can still see the enormous pool of lava bubbling inside.  Tourists like to drop things down into it—and of course, it disappears into the molten lava—which is why it’s named after Beel because no matter what you feed him, he’s still hungry as if he’s never eaten.”

“Remind me again, then, why we’re walking across it?”  Luke asked as the trio wandered over to the entrance of the precarious bridge.  

Simeon looked at him curiously.  “Don’t you think it’s exhilarating, Luke?  To be so close to something so much bigger and powerful and dangerous than yourself?”   

The younger angel pondered that for a moment before deciding, “Father is so much bigger and powerful and dangerous than me.  I think that’s enough.”   

Simeon laughed.  “So it is.”  He wiggled his fingers under Luke’s hat to rumple his hair.  “But let’s go see it, anyway.”

 Hour 3

“Psst,” Luke hissed, “Simeon.” The elder angel seemed to be too enthralled by the latest song in Solomon’s playlist, “What Makes You Beautiful” by One Direction, to hear him, so Luke reached out to poke his shoulder.

If he wasn’t strapped to his seat by his seatbelt, Simeon would’ve jumped about fifty feet in surprise.  “Ah, you startled me, Luke.  Did you need something?”

Luke adamantly refused to meet Simeon’s eyes as he flushed and muttered, “I have to go.”

“Don’t worry, Luke—there’s no shame in needing to go to the bathroom,” assured Simeon.

“There is when you just went ten minutes ago,” mumbled Solomon under his breath, but he swerved into a gas station, nonetheless.  “I guess we’re due for a tank refill, anyway.”

Simeon put up his hand.  “You paid for the gas last time—let me do it, especially since Mammon left explicit instructions that his car is supposed to be ‘fed’ premium gas only.” 

Solomon grinned cheekily.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  He followed Luke, who had already gone into the gas station convenience store.  “I guess I’ll just have a look around, then.”

However, before he got more than a few feet into the store, he heard someone whisper-screaming his name.

“Psst!  Solomon!  Over here!  Behind the candy stand!” 

He followed the voice, only to find that it belonged to Luke, who was very much not in the bathroom and rather ripping open a packet of fruit snacks.

“Whoa, I didn’t know you had it in you to employ the much-loved five-finger-discount,” Solomon said, nodding appreciatively.  “Considering you’re an angel and all.”

Luke stared at him with blank eyes.  “I don’t know what that means, but these were in my pocket from earlier!”  He motioned for Solomon to come closer and poured a few of the gummies into his hand.  “This is my last pouch—eat them fast.  They might be our last bit of yummy food before we have to eat Simeon’s nightmares.”

Solomon bobbed his head, before dumping the fruit snacks into his mouth all at once, savoring their sweet taste.  He gestured toward Luke.  “Do you always keep those on you?”

The angel’s offended gasp could be heard by all the demons in the convenience store.  “I’m a ten-year-old, Solomon!  Of course, I keep fruit snacks in my pocket!”

Hour 4

It wasn’t that Simeon was a bad driver.  It was just that driving in the Devildom (and the Human World) was very different from driving in the Celestial Realm.

Here, in uncontrolled intersections, it wasn’t customary to say “hello” to the drivers rolling to a stop in all directions.  Even stranger, the traffic lights weren’t celestial blue, gold, and white, but rather red, green, and yellow! 

Luke, who had discovered a “2020 Devildom Rules of the Road” manual crumpled inside one of the cupholders, was forced to bark instructions at the eldest angel, all while offering condescending commentary on how imbecilic the rules of driving in the Devildom were.

“Simeon!  Listen to this!  In the Devildom, you have to obey the posted speed limits, or else you’ll get in trouble!” realized Luke.

“Wait—you don’t have speed limits in the Celestial Realm?” Solomon asked.

Luke replied smugly, “No, because angels have the sense to know how fast they should or shouldn’t be driving.”

“Wow, that’s honestly impressive.”  Solomon grimaced as Simeon ran through another red light.  “Remember, if the light is red, then you have to stop.”

Simeon offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m so used to remembering that blue means ‘stop.’”

Solomon slunk low in his seat, knowing better than to rile up the angel, who was rumored to have a feisty side when he got angry.  “I just hope the police or whatever they have here don’t catch us for breaking so many traffic laws.”

“What’s a ‘police?’” asked Luke.

“Oh, you know … people who are supposed to make people follow the laws and stuff,” replied Solomon.  His eyes widened.  “Do you not have a police force in the Celestial Realm?”

“The Celestial Realm is a perfect world, Solomon,” answered Simeon.  “We don’t need police.”

Hour 6

Solomon didn’t know that he could get sick of songs.  Sure, he got tired of the “Despacito” remix after the first dozen times it was played on the radio—but he meant real music.  

“Amazing Grace” in particular.

Luke’s favorite album, 1001 Hymns to Praise Him, really should’ve been called 1001 Ways An Angelic Choir Can Sing “Amazing Grace” because Solomon swore about ninety percent of the songs on the album were just renditions of the classic hymn sung by different groups of angels.

And this seemed to bother neither of his driving companions, who crooned along to the choir in heavenly tones—it seemed to be a prerequisite for angels to be divine singers—without missing a beat.  

He hadn’t even known all the words to “Amazing Grace,” but now he could recite all six verses on demand.  He fought the urge to smash the “eject” button on the CD player, but he worried that Luke would throw a fit or Simeon would look at him with a stare so full of disappointment that Solomon would be willing to throw himself off a bridge just to rid himself of its gaze.

But one could only hear the line “amazing grace, how sweet the sound,” so many times.

He had to do something.

“Hey!  I have an idea!” Solomon chirped.  “Let’s make up our own song!”

He had to fight the urge to smack himself upside the head.  Why did he say that?  He had no ideas for potential song lyrics!

“I like that!” Luke pursed his lips, deep in thought.  “Here, let’s have the first lines go like this: ‘Father, You are all that I need!’”

Simeon used one hand to snap out the beat, and continued, “‘Father, listen to my creed!’”

Solomon sighed.

He did not know if this was any better.

Hour 8

“Luke, wake up.  We’re here.”  Solomon couldn’t help but layer on the desperation thick as he shook the younger angel awake, despite the fact that they were in no danger whatsoever.

Luke shot up, trying very hard to hide the fact that he had been drooling all over his shoulder.  He rubbed his sleep-filled eyes. “What?  Did we beat all the other demons here?  Are the Caverns of Degeneracy as hideous as I imagined?”

Solomon unbuckled Luke’s seatbelt and dragged him out of the car.  He snickered, saying, “We’re not at the Caverns, yet.”  He gestured toward their surroundings, which now consisted of precarious cliffs and rocky crags instead of the open road of the Devildom. 

Simeon stood a few feet ahead of them and turned around, spreading his arms wide in wonder.  “Welcome to Sinner Falls!”

Luke stared at the dark stone formations.  “I don’t see any waterfalls.”

“That’s because Sinner Falls isn’t a waterfall,” Solomon explained.  “You probably better know it as ‘the Abyss—’”

“‘The Abyss? ’  Why didn’t you say so?”  Luke exclaimed, his eyes glittering excitedly.  “The place where demons are tortured for a thousand years during the Millenium has always been one of my dream places to visit!”

Simeon smiled, a little taken aback by the younger angel’s enthusiasm.  “If we’re lucky, we might get to see Abaddon, Angel of the Abyss. He’s supposed to be guarding the canyon up ahead.”

“If we see him, do you think he’ll let me call him ‘Abba?’” teased Solomon, even though the remark earned him a kick in the shin and a “He most certainly will not!  How dare you even say such a thing about one of the most high-ranking angels!” from Luke.

“Careful now, Solomon,” Simeon warned, as the trio walked toward the deep canyon amongst the cliffs.  As far as anyone could tell, there was no end to the inky, suffocating blackness that was visible when looking down into it.  He pointed into the canyon.  “This is the Abyss—er, Sinner Falls.  Us angels cannot pass this invisible barrier—” he pressed his hand out to the ledge of the canyon, only for it to smash against some kind of unseen wall, “—but any human or demon who falls down into it falls for eternity, never to come back to the surface.”

Luke beamed. “That must be why it’s called ‘Sinner Falls!’  Because most humans and all demons are sinners!”  Despite this, he grabbed Solomon’s hand to prevent him from wandering too close to Sinner Falls’ ledge (as he was wont to do), because, despite their bickering and mutual pestering, Luke had a soft spot for the sorcerer.

Simeon followed in suit and intertwined his fingers with Solomon as the trio looked down into the great Abyss, wondering if any of their demon friends would be among the many thrown into it one day.

Hour 9

Simeon rifled through his messenger bag, intent on looking for something to eat.  He had made sure to pack plenty of goodies and was pleased as to how nutritious the snacks he’d made had turned out.  He scooped a handful of edamame and chickpea trail mix into his hand and turned to Luke, who was hunched over a map in the back passenger seat. 

“You haven’t eaten anything in over eight hours; aren’t you hungry?”  Simeon offered him the bag of trail mix.

Luke gulped, as he beamed and shook his head.  “N—no, no!  I’m okay!”

Simeon shrugged and held out the bag toward Solomon, who was driving.  “Do you want some?  I can pour it into your mouth if you want, so you don’t have to take your eyes off the road.”

“As titillating as that sounds,” said the sorcerer, “I’m afraid I’m not hungry at the moment.”

“I guess that’s more for me, then.”  Simeon poured more of the trail mix into his palm, but before he could eat any of it, he heard a strange sound.

It was a low rumble, but very, very loud.

It almost sounded like … stomachs growling?

He whirled to face Luke and Solomon and scratched his head in confusion.  “Are you two sure you’re not hungry?”

When the pair shook their heads furiously, Simeon raised an eyebrow.  He yanked out from his bag the stuffed dried dates and the oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean balls.  “So … you two wouldn’t mind if I ate all of the snacks?”

“Yeah, sure, go nuts, Simeon,” Solomon assured.  He winced as his and Luke’s stomaches rumbled in unison.  “You wouldn’t actually have any nuts in that bag o’ treats, would you?  Preferably of the chocolate-covered variety?” 

“The dates have almond butter stuffed inside them,” pointed out Luke helpfully, although his expression was less-than-enthused.

Simeon raised his other eyebrow.  Clearly the pair were hungry but refusing food.  What kind of rebellious spirit had gotten into them?  Didn’t they know that food was essential to oh, survival?   His left eye twitched as he felt a black miasma of rage cover him. “If you two don’t eat, I’m turning this car around.  That’s a promise.”

Solomon exchanged nervous glances with Luke at the normally calm angel’s outburst. “Angry Simeon is scary,” he whimpered.

“If you don’t eat, you’ll see just how scary I can be,” promised Simeon with a smile that bordered downright terrifying.  He plopped an oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean ball into Solomon’s mouth and handed a stuffed date to Luke.  “Now, eat your snacks.”

He definitely didn’t miss Luke’s grumpy, “Yes, mother.”

Hour 11

“Solomon, I hate to complain—” which earned a snort from the sorcerer, as Luke continued, “but do you really have to play that now?”  He gestured toward the sound system, which, now that it was Simeon’s turn to drive, blared 1001 Hymns to Praise Him.  “Seven Lyres is my favorite orchestra and their take on ‘Amazing Grace’ is simply the best!”

Solomon, who had purposely pulled out a reed pipe from his backpack in an effort to drown out the nine thousandth chorus of “Amazing Grace,” sighed and put it down.  He knew he wasn’t an expert in playing the reed pipe—in fact, this was the first time he’d ever seen the instrument, but the racket was so soothing.

“Where did you even get that from, anyway?” asked Simeon.

“Found it in my backpack.  I didn’t pack it, but considering there was a note attached to it that said ‘Blow,’ I think Asmo put it there as some kind of visual innuendo.”  Solomon shrugged.  “Now seemed like as good a time as any to play it.”

 Luke tapped his chin thoughtfully.  “What’s an ‘innuendo?’”

“Something you’re not allowed to make until you’re much older,” replied Simeon sternly. 

Luke seemed satisfied with the answer and held out his palm toward Solomon.  “May I try?”

Solomon handed the reed pipe over and cocked his head.  “You know how to play?”

He received his answer when Luke gestured for him to lower the stereo volume (which Solomon did with immense pleasure) and began to carefully place his fingers over the openings and gently blow into the instrument.

The young angel played masterfully and Solomon would’ve given him a standing ovation if it weren’t for one tiny thing.

“Why don’t you play a different song besides ‘Amazing Grace?’”  he suggested.

Luke furrowed his brows.  “It’s the only thing I know how to play!”

Hour 12

“I don’t like this place, Simeon,” Luke mumbled, yanking his hat over his eyes.  “It looks like something straight from the End Times.”

He, of course, was referring to the town at which’s city limits they stood in front of.  It was one of the last tourist spots that Simeon had wanted to visit, and it was renowned for being one of the Devildom’s most haunted ghost towns.

Solomon nodded.  “I’m with the Chihuahua.  I’m super excited for the end of the world, and even I’m not getting a good feeling from whatever-this-place-is-called.”

“Deathblow Beggar’s Pass,” answered Simeon, ogling the city entrance sign gleefully.  “They say it’s the most haunted district in all of the Devildom.”  He took a step onto the creaky wooden path that led into the town.  “It’s been evacuated for centuries and now, even most demons are petrified to go inside.”

Luke gripped Simeon’s cape so tight, his knuckles turned white.  “Then why do you want to visit this place?”

“Don’t worry, Luke,” the older angel said (avoiding the question, which the young angel noticed), laughing, as he tousled Luke’s hair under his hat.  “I’ll make sure none of the scary ghosts come near you.”

Luke’s eyes widened.  “Sc—scary ghosts?”  He cleared his throat when he realized how incredibly uncourageous he sounded.  “I—I mean I’m not scared of any g—g—ghosts!”

Solomon and Simeon shared a secret smile at the angel’s feigned bravery, and instead of teasing him, Solomon turned to Luke very seriously.  “I strictly deal with demons, not ghosts.  How about you do me a favor and sit on my shoulders to be my lookout in case any of those ghosts try to pull anything?”

“W—well if you need my help, I’m definitely willing to offer it!” Luke blushed as he climbed onto Solomon’s shoulders.  “It’s my duty as an angel to help humans, after all!”

“That’s the ‘spirit,’” Solomon said.  He laughed when he saw the angels’ unamused faces.  “Get it?  ‘Cause we’re walking into a ghost town?”

Simeon laughed stiffly as to not hurt the sorcerer’s feelings before straightening his posture and looking ahead.  He channeled his inner fantasy writer as he declared, “Get ready, everyone!  We must put aside our doubts and fears as we charge forward into Deathblow Beggar’s Pass, where no creature has exited without releasing screams that could curdle the blood of the Demon Lord!  We might not be of this world, but we certainly can brave its most terrifying sites!”

It would have been a very heroic speech if it weren’t for the fact that not five minutes after the trio entered the city limits, Solomon and Simeon sprinted out, with Luke wailing loudly.

“That was the worst ever!” the little angel blubbered, yanking Solomon’s hair.

The sorcerer didn’t even have enough energy to flinch as he panted, “What in the name of all things unholy was that?”

There was nothing but fear in Simeon’s eyes as he doubled over, trying to catch his breath.  “We should’ve known the saloon bathroom stalls wouldn’t be empty.”  He gagged.  “I never want to see millennia-old demon penis again.”

Hour 15

“Simeon, are we there yet ?” asked Luke for the twenty-first time in the hour.

The other angel sighed.  “Almost, Luke.  Just a few more minutes.”

“Don’t you have the map?” Solomon pointed out as he honked the horn in irritation at a slow driver ahead of him.  “Shouldn’t you know where we are?”

Luke fussed with the multitude of papers that were stacked on his lap.  “I only have the stuff for Simeon’s places.”  His eyes opened wide in realization.  “Wait—how do you guys know where to drive if my maps don’t lead to the Caverns of Degeneracy?” 

“Diavolo said as long as we travel along Route 666 until we see the sign markers, we should have no problem getting there,” explained Simeon.  He peered ahead and squinted at one of the upcoming signs.  “And look—that sign says that the Caverns of Degeneracy are ten miles up ahead.”

“I hope we’re the first ones there,” said Luke.  “It’ll be nice to see all the looks on those dumb demons’ faces when we get there before them.”

Solomon pursed his lips.  “Speaking of those ‘dumb demons,’ I wonder if they’re all right.  We haven’t heard from them since we left Purgatory Hall.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Simeon assured.  He let out a laugh as he continued, “Assuming they haven’t killed each other already.  It must be hard having all seven of them cooped up in one small space.”

“We can only hope,” said Luke solemnly.  He paused for a moment as he shimmied as far as his seatbelt would allow him and peered over Solomon’s shoulder to look at what was going on in the front seats.  He pointed at the gear shift. “What does ‘D’ mean?”

“I’m not supposed to say that word in front of you,” answered Solomon as Simeon simultaneously replied, “Drive.”

“Oh.  What does ‘R’ mean, then?”

Simeon replied, “Reverse,” before Solomon could say anything.

At the elder angel’s preemptive glare, Solomon widened his eyes and innocently said, “I was going to say ‘reverse,’ as in ‘Uno Reverse Card.’’”

Luke turned toward the dashboard.  “What’s ‘E?’”

“I feel if I say ‘Evanescence,’ Simeon is going to yell at me, so I’ll just go with ‘empty,’” pouted Solomon.  

“Empty what?”

“Gas.”

“So … since that line-thingy is almost at ‘E,’ that means we’re nearly out of gas?”  

“Yep.”

Simeon turned around to cover Luke’s ears at Solomon’s next sentence: “Holy shit—we’re almost out of gas!”

The older angel’s eyes promised murder as he stared at the sorcerer, before directing his stare to the fuel gauge.  “We’re running on fumes.”

“We need to refuel, stat.  Simeon, grab my D.D.D and look up the nearest gas station,” directed Solomon.  “I always forget that Mammon’s car is a gas-guzzler.” 

“What should I do, Solomon?” asked Luke, eagerly awaiting orders like a baby soldier.

The sorcerer nodded, deadly serious.  “Sit there and be cute.”

Luke pouted as Simeon—with surprising speed—brought up a log of the nearest gas stations on Solomon’s D.D.D.  “There should be a station three miles ahead.”

Solomon frowned as he analyzed their fuel gauge.  “I’m not sure we’ll make it.”

“We have to!” cried Luke.  “How will we ever beat those demons if we don’t even make it to the Caverns of Degeneracy?”  

“We’ll have to trust that Mammon’s baby is strong enough to get us to the gas station, then.”  Solomon stroked the dashboard as if trying to offer the vehicle some kind of encouragement.  

And as the car’s fuel began to peter out, Simeon and Luke began to cheer in chorus, “You can do it, Mammon’s car!” while Solomon exclaimed, “You’re a fierce, strong woman who doesn’t need any man to tell you that your fuel gauge is empty!”  

After an eternity (okay, it was more like five minutes), the Demonio 666 Lexura finally eked it’s way to the first pump at a Demobil gas station. 

As the engine sputtered out, the trio let out a cheer, and Solomon and Simeon shared a hug in the front seat.

“Thank Father we made it!” exclaimed Luke as he unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the car.  He pat Mammon’s car.  “Also, thank you for getting us here, even if you belong to the scummiest demon in the Devildom.”

Solomon grinned and turned to Simeon.  “You spotted the gas bill last time, so I’ll do it now.”

“Are you sure?” asked Simeon.  “My TSL royalties are huge, even after I’ve tithed my ten percent.  I’ve got no problem paying.”

“Nah, it’s fine—you can go stretch your legs.” With that, Solomon exited the car and began to work the gas pump.

Simeon nodded and together with Luke, walked toward the attached Demobil convenience store.  By the entrance stood a higher-level demon, who appeared to be selling bouquets of fresh flowers.

The vendor, who had noticed the pair exit Mammon’s car and had seen Solomon get up to pump the gas, called to Simeon, “Flower for your Mister?”  He gestured toward the white-haired sorcerer. 

Luke gasped, absolutely scandalized, and huffed, “Simeon would never settle for a human!” while Simeon chuckled, replying, “I’m sorry, he’s not my ‘Mister,’ but I’ll take a bouquet, anyway.”

After exchanging Grimm for the flowers, Simeon and Luke strolled back to the Demonio 666 Lexura, where Solomon was just closing the fuel tank. 

“Simeon bought you flowers!” announced Luke.

The angel nodded as he handed the sunny bouquet to Solomon.  “It matches your wand.”

“How did you know gerberas are my favorite?” laughed Solomon.  “These are great—thank you.”  As they all piled back into the car, he carefully arranged the flowers in one of the cupholders and beamed, because God,  sometimes the angel was so nice. 

The group drove in silence for a few moments before Luke commented, “I didn’t know gerberas smelled like … salt?”

Simeon sniffed the air.  “I think that’s the sea.  After all, the Caverns of Degeneracy are right along the beach.”

Just as the angel spoke the words, Solomon pulled right into a parking lot that was situated right next to miles and miles of black sand.  

Luke cheered, kicking his feet at Solomon’s seat excitedly.  “Yay!  We’re here!”

Their road trip had finally come to an end.

Destination

After wandering the beach for a few moments, the trio eventually found themselves at the mouth of the Caverns of Degeneracy, which turned out to be several huge caves filled with glowing pastel stalactites and stalagmites.  Hellfireflies twinkled in the air, while friendly gentlemanbugs strolled about the cavern floor.  Some kind of glittering pink moss had been used to adorn the walls with the words, “R.A.D Bleeding Hearts Festival 2020.”

In the middle of it all stood Diavolo, who was discussing the festival decorations with Barbatos.

As soon as he saw the Demon Prince, Luke raced up and, bobbing uncontrollably, asked, “Are we first?  Are we first?” 

Diavolo let out a hearty laugh.  “Welcome you three!  And first for what, Luke?”

Solomon sauntered up and answered, “To arrive.”

“Luke’s been very anxious to know if we’re the first ones here at the festival,” elaborated Simeon, placing his hand on the younger angel’s shoulder.

“You make it seem like it was a competition to get here first—which, yes, you three are,” said Diavolo.  His eyes lit up.  “That’s an excellent idea, though!  Next year, we’ll make the R.A.D C.D a contest to see can make it to the Caverns the fastest!  First place will get a coupon for teatime with me!”

Luke wrinkled his nose.  “Teatime with you?  That sounds—”

“Incredibly fun,” cut in Simeon smoothly.  He turned to Diavolo.  “Have you gotten any word from those seven demon brothers?”

Diavolo grimaced.  “It seems that they’ll be late.  Beelzebub ate all their road trip snacks immediately as he entered Asmodeus’ tour bus, so they had to stop for food at every fast food restaurant they could find because he still wasn’t satisfied, Belphegor kept falling asleep at the wheel, and Mammon got so many speeding violations and every time the police showed up, Asmodeus tried to seduce his way out of their ticket, which only earned them more fines and lectures from Lucifer.  It’s comic-con season, so of course, Leviathan had to stop at every convention center along the way, and unsurprisingly, Satan’s road rage forced him to get into out-of-car fights with every driver he encountered when he was at the wheel.”  He sighed.  “They managed to turn a fifteen-hour trip into a twenty-two hour one.”

Solomon smiled as he said, “I guess we should’ve expected that.”  His grin grew even wider as he gestured toward his traveling companions.  “Meanwhile, we did all fifteen-hours of driving—courtesy of me bending the speeding rules quite a bit when there was no traffic— and saw some of the sights of the Devildom along the way.”

“Oooh, did you manage to get any pictures?” asked Diavolo with an excited gleam in his eye.  “I always want to travel around the Devildom but never get the chance.”

Simeon nodded as he pulled out from his messenger bag some of the pictures he had asked fellow tourists to snap with his instant camera.  He handed them one by one to Diavolo and beamed at the goofy scenes.

The first one was from when they stopped at the Maw of Beelzebub: Solomon teasingly dangled Luke’s hat over the bridge’s railing while the young angel cried and stomped on the sorcerer’s foot in retaliation.  Simeon, meanwhile, tried to rescue Luke’s hat.

The second photo showcased Solomon sitting at the ledge of Sinner Falls with his feet swinging over the bottomless canyon.  Luke and Simeon posed obnoxiously as if they were going to fall into the Abyss, even though as angels, they were unable to.  

The final picture was the only one he had from Deathblow Beggar’s Pass, and it was of the trio crouched in front of the sign that spelled “Enjoy your stay at Deathblow Beggar’s Pass!”

Diavolo examined the images wistfully.  He sighed as he handed the photos back to Simeon.  “You three looked as if you made some fun memories.”

The angels and the sorcerer exchanged contented glances and chorused, “We most certainly did.”

[a-curious-wednesday]

Today! On Unpopular Opinions: Destiny 2, Warmind

Destiny 2′s newest DLC, Warmind is borderline trash.  Now, when I pre-ordered it, I, initially, went through the usual rigmarole.  Foolishly placing my hopes and expectations that this $20 DLC would right all the wrongs that have plagued D2 since its outset, and then coming to the cold realization that by the time Bungie was willing to entertain listening to its Destiny fanbase, Warmind was likely all-but completed.  Meaning that it would either be the same as DLC1, Fall of Osiris or negligibly better.

I realize there’s a lot of reasons for this.  Bungie agreed to a ridiculous content schedule with Activision, where they were forced to pump out new content and games on a schedule that disallows for proper development and growth.  That, the new direction of Destiny is Call of Duty w/Space Losers.  That, because, for the second time, Bungie changed D2′s game direction in the eleventh hour; brought in new people who did not understand the lore or what the game was supposed to be, etc, etc, etc.

And yet, here we are.

The campaign Warmind is alright.  And I mean that in the loosest of senses of the term ‘alright.’  I have many problems with its story direction. Some of them, a lot of you have previously heard before: silent protagonist, uptight, kiss-ass ghost, stiff character development.  There are other issues I take up, however. Issues that just left me scratching my fucking head in a general mystified and annoyed manner. (Note: there be spoilers)

1)  Once again your Guardian follows along with some half-assed plan to save the universe. (Which, if I’m being honest, the Universe never felt threatened during Warmind.  It’s more of a, “hey, can you help me get rid of these guys who’re crashing my place? They smell bad, eat all my food, don’t clean up after themselves and are generally ungrateful jerks.”)  This plan, borders the epitome of asinine, mind you. It amounts to:

Zavala: “Hey, let's take a piece of the Traveller and bait this giant-ass snake-god thing.”

Ghost/Guardian: “...”

Ana: “Then, what?” (Ana, who is suddenly an expert in the Hive asks curiously.  Meanwhile, your ghost, who should have wised up and remembered that you fought ORYX, the Black Garden, Skolas, SIVA (which, were, generally betterish plans) should have had concerns.)

Zavala: “We wing it.”

Ghost/Guardian: “...”  (Both of you should have protested, citing how we winged it with the Almighty and Ghaul and that didn’t really work out.  The Almighty is still slowly destroying Mercury, but NOBODY mentions that.  The next time you’re on Mercury, stop what you’re doing and look around.  The planet is still being ripped to chunks and pulled into the Almighty.)

Ana: “What?  We could use Rasputin--”

Zavala: “No! Absolutely not.”

We use Rasputin.  

How?  His “relic weapon” a super-heated/conductive spear that we literally chuck at a god.  I mean, why not, right?  We took down Oryx who was (pre-”established D1 canon is hearsay and folklore and not fact”) literally the strongest God we’ve fought since the quasi-para-casual tentacle thing that was supposed to represent the Darkness embodied.  At least, in the Black Garden, they had the good sense to have us beat the damn god by proxy.  Defeating Xol was just lazy writing. He’s a fucking Worm God!  You know, the thing, Auresh/Oryx took/consumed to become the taken King and literally lead the Hive out of the Fundament/Deep.

But, hey, it’s cool in the end. After all, Xol was the weakest, puniest Worm God of the bunch.  It's not like it/he had power only rivaled by the OTHER WORM GODS. Let’s chuck a nuclear spear at it.  That’ll kill it. Because science!!

2)  Your Guardian is sent to the Deep/Fundament by a fucking God.  Xol literally transports you to another plane of existence, cutting you off from the Traveller’s Light (because your plan is so asinine) in order to kill you slowly.  Mind you, this place is a horror show of horror shows. The Deep makes Hell look like a vacation to Mazatlan. There are things there that preyed on the Krill/Hive, things that we, humans and guardians could not comprehend without the Books of Sorrow/Toland.

Do you understand the wasted potential for story this was? It was monumental.  Monumental! Me, an Exo, was transported to the Hell of Hells by a literal God, because I wasn’t worth its time.  I’m there, floating around for, I don’t know, minutes? My annoying ghost is freaking out. Meanwhile, Xol has had enough of our shit.  He’s gone to destroy Rasputin (which, he might have done anyway, but hey, nothing like 3rd party intervention to up the timetable). With the Warmind removed from the gameboard, Xol has a clearer line to solar conquest.  Why? Dunno, it's never mentioned why a God would wish to conquer Sol. It never really seemed to care that the Traveller slept above Earth before it awoke.

It didn’t seem to care that the Traveller had.

Meanwhile, my Exo titan is floating in something that vaguely looks like blood.  There’s some weird stills of probably torture? Good thing, I’m an Exo. Don’t feel pain, because robot.  Don’t need to breathe or eat, because robot. Don’t get tired, because robot. And, then, miraculously, my guardian climbs up from a crevasse, obviously drained and near death.  My ghost is quick with the first aid and I’m good to go.

...Seriously?  Okay.  Okay. I can kind of see how that works if your guardian is an Exo.  Because robot.  But, human?  Awoken?  How?  Just how?  You were in literal mortal danger *again*.  Presumably, you needed to figure out what the Hellscape the Deep was and how to navigate it. You would need a way back to your native dimension, which would require you to seek aid from the natives.  Except, the natives have never seen your kind and they all want to kill you. And this would take time. Somehow, against all odds, you find someone who’ll help you escape and you make the journey together, because let's be realistic: there’s always that one person who knows the way, but was too chickenshit to go it alone.  That person dies getting you to the “portal” which’ll take you back to your dimension. By the way, you’ve got no Ghost. No Light. Limited ammo. No food. Nothing to repair your weapons and armor. No oxygen to breathe.

Somehow, you climb your way out, just like the Kratos climbed out of Hades.  Or, from an actual literary standpoint how Orpheus and Eurydice.  Dante and Virgil.

Except, not, because you get treated to a 30 second cut-scene of flashing images and your guardian clawing their way up a crevasse.

Kudos, Bungie.  Good job.  If the fanbase of Mass Effect could flip shit over the ending of ME3 to such a degree that they had the game’s actual ending redone (via post-production patch that was FREE) to better please them and work with the meta of the MEU, what do you think the fanbase of Destiny will do?  Don’t answer.  I know its buy shit from Eververse.

3)  Rasputin.  The titular reason we’re even on Mars.  The whole reason Anastasia Bray (Clever, Bungie.  Clever.  Rasputin and Anastasia.) has gone to the Hellas Basin.  She didn’t go there to go home. Not really. She went there to connect to a thing that she built that transcended all known laws and bounds.  It was alive, but alive in a Godly sense. Not bound by the constructs of Human morality.  Oh no.   Ana might not initially know for sure why she was drawn to Clovis Bray.  Sure, she awoke to her second life with her name badge on her person. And then was summarily told not to investigate her past. As if she were an Exo or concerned about DER.  She might not have consciously known she was seeking Rasputin, but she always was.

Meanwhile, Rasputin is a God, created by man to protect Us All.  Given sovereign to do so as he saw fit. Think about that. Think about Humanity as a whole currently.  In what universe would all of Humanity greenlight the creation of something like this? Never mind that, think about Humanity collectively since the dawn of science fiction writing.  When has it ever benefited Humanity to place their safety in the hands of others? My Skynet senses are tingling. But, wait, it's okay guys. Moon X/the Traveller is here! None of us understand what it is, but let’s go meet it.  While they’re doing that, let’s sanction a civilian company to build a guardian that thinks for itself, learns independently, is prudent, wise and plays the long game. Let’s make it so its not bound by Human morality so it can make the hard choices, us Humans would flinch at.  Nobody knows how a Moon is moving on its own or terraforming whole planets!  But, we’ll put our faith in a machine.

By the way, none of us truly understands or can comprehend this thing that we’ve built.  Oh, and there’s no way for is to. All of which, happened during the Golden Age, before the Collapse.  Interestingly GA mankind already knew of the Vex, so most likely reverse engineered Vex tech went into the creation of Rasputin.

Oh, and it's just Rasputin.  Whose always been on Mars. Sure, they retcon/bungiesplain it away well enough, but still.  Where the hell is Charlemagne, Jys or Virgil? It was established that Charlemagne was the Warmind of Mars, but now its a submind.  They’re all Submind. In other words, the children of Rasputin.  Story potential!

...Never mind, that’s not D2’s development team’s prerogative.

Fast forward to the present and Rasputin has become active because the Traveller has awoken.  His old foe, his biggest threat. The one thing Rasputin still doesn’t comprehend. Its awake/alive again.  Its parasites (guardians) have been doing a terrible job of policing Sol and protecting Humanity. Not their fault, their still human.  Rasputin was fine with letting the parasites struggle. It could focus on (presumably) the triangle ships, holding back the Red Legion, Eliksni colony convoys, Tomb convoys and other nightmares.  It was smart, cunning. Playing a very real and deadly game of chess. He couldn’t reveal too much of his might or himself, that would draw unwanted attention. Then the Traveller awoke and the rules changed.  So, he throws off his disguise and swings into full production/activity. Warsats activate that have been dormant for centuries. Orbital strikes occur all throughout Sol, hammering the Legion, Hive, Vex, Fallen, Taken.  And Xol thaws.

Yet, still, Rasputin is incomprehensible to us.  And we, “the” guardian, aid a shortsighted, single-minded Doctor in unshackling it. Yup, we did that.  Nearly killed him in the process, but we did the damn thing.  Doesn’t matter, though, in the end, right?  Because Rasputin is a machine, built for us.  Except, not.  No.  He’s more than that now.  Now, Rasputin is completely Free and he proclaims that he’s going to protect his ants.  Yeah. Good job, Ana.  Oh, and Zavala still has complete faith and trust in us.  Despite!  Despite having solid reservations in utilizing Rasputin.  Despite the fact that we ignored our Commander and leader.  It’s cool, though, right?  We’re celebrity status.  We’ve taken down 2, count ‘em, 2 Gods.  Crota was a Demigod at best.  (But, he got his own Raid... Nokris.)

Does Anastasia know this?  Nope.  She never mentions it. Never mentions Oryx or Crota or the Black Garden or how we did what no one else could.  And we did it with no plan and 3 to six other insane guardians with annoying, uptight ghosts.  To her, we’re just a guardian with a ghost that has a stick up its USB port.  Weird, right?  We’re Iron Lords for crying out loud!  Young Wolves. Bounty Hunters for the Reef Queen.  Prison of Elder gaolers.  Emissaries of the Cult of Osiris and now the Nine.  Oh, and some of us are Faction Heralds.  Standard Bearers for Dead Orbit, Future War Cult or New Monarchy.  If you got the exotic class item from DO, FWC or NM in D1, youse a Herald and Standard Bearer.

Is there ever mention of this?  Nope.

4)  The Hive finally gets snipers/sharpshooters and shield-wielding swordsman.  Both of which seem like obvious no-brainers to have always been incorporated.  Except!   That goes against the Sword Logic. So, sincerely, you get a plus for adding them to the heretical, “cowardly” faction of the Hive. 

Question for you, though. Why would you knowingly (God, I hope it was knowingly) honor previous canon in this instance, but not with others? Like, where Xol is concerned?  Or the Deep/Fundament? Or Rasputin? Why the cherry picking?

5)  Why even bother naming yellow-bar area and mission bosses or units if you won’t bother explaining who they are, what they do and what they want?   Because, I honestly, lost interest in reading the named enemies once I realized there was no information about them in or out of the game.

From a Gameplay standpoint, it's what you’d expect from Destiny 2.  Up-tempoed action with moments of intensity and hopeful triumph.  If you play smartly, it rewards you. If you overextend yourself, prepare to get ganked.  Horribly. Progression is more inline with its predecessor, which might make the casuals pause.  Thankfully, it isn’t like Day 1, Vanilla Destiny, where it was impossible to reach Light Level Cap solo and without completing Raid/Nightfalls.  Except, no one would take you if you didn’t have G-horn or Icebreaker. Ah, the Good ol’ days of the Grind and the Loot Caves.  My point? The action is more reminiscent to that feel, just with all the current bells and whistles, which is a good thing.

Exotic weapons finally feel fucking worthwhile.  I played the whole Warmind Campaign with the combination of Sweet Business and Actium War Rig and I absolutely love it!  Add the Galliard-42 or the Kibou AR3 for some added fun and thrills. Pairing the Tractor Cannon with Sentinel is immensely satisfying.  That punk, Nokris didn’t stand a chance. And neither did his minions. Melts the opposition. Plus, its just really satisfying to watch 5 charging Knights (with sword and/or shield) get punted halfway across the room or into a wall or over a ledge.  I finally feel like how those damned Taken Phalanxes must feel. The Borealis is a fun choice, too. Although, I haven’t spent much time with it. The payoff for matching damage types and busting shields is well worth it.

The added cosmetic gear is neat.  My new favorite jumpship, hands down, is Currus Gloriae XLII.  As a Titan, having a spaceship that looks like it can go to war and do some damage is a welcomed plus.  The sparrow, Azure Azazyel looks really awesome. Even though it doesn’t have an interesting contrail effect, it still is fun to ride.  It feel like it belongs in Akira or Bladerunner and I dig it.  What I’ve seen from the new emblems, they’re decent.  

The updated effects of the new guns is much needed. Dragonfly on an autorifle?  Yes, please. Rampage on a Handcannon that you don’t have to grind for? I’ll take it.  The new Ghost shells are blase at best. The emote wheel is a nice touch, but seems a bit late.

Hoo boy, Override Frequencies and Memory Fragments.  Gotta hand it to you there, Bungie. I could not figure out how to get those until you unlocked them.  And those Fragments? I didn’t even figure out how to unlock them. Or I did, but it didn’t work?  Don’t try shooting them until after you unlock Hellas Basin.  Found that out by accident.  Thank you, random Guardian who was just shooting at a ledge!

So, like I said on the outset: Warmind, as an expansion is alright bordering on trash.  It is entirely redeemed in its Gameplay, but woefully drops the ball where the story is concerned.  Is it worth the $20? Eh. You’d probably still be better off waiting for the comet expansion to drop and for Bungie/Activision to repackage and re-release Destiny 2 this fall/winter.  There will be some that will find it a $20 well spent and others who won’t, who’ll swear off the franchise completely.  As for me? Its an investment. Like investing in Roseart and hoping they turn into Crayola. One day, they just might.

[sradford]

An Artist Will Die Poor Before 30 and Their Customers Will Make Millions

Why do we care about art auctions? Why do we care when a well known artist has a painting that sells for a lot of money?

A Jean-Michel Basquiat painting recently sold for a record breaking 110.5 million dollars at auction. Basquiat was homeless for most of his teens and had to sell his painted t-shirts and cards to live. The BBC makes note of its cost, which is over double his previous painting sold which also previously held the record for highest price sold at auction in the US. Before meeting Warhol and others, Basquiat worked in sweaty New York print shops for wages too low to afford a living. The article also described the visuals of the painting and how long betting lasted; ten minutes. For much of his early career, Basquiat sold color xeroxes of his work at noise shows. The article then noted that Basquiat died in 1988 at age 27 of a heroin overdose before ending.

With that in mind, we see that art auctions cannot be for artists as articles about this consist solely of the above information, and perhaps some more details of the buyer (a rich man who, to his credit plans on displaying it to the public) which leads us to believe that it is not about the artist. The painting was first purchased for 19 thousand dollars and will be sold for roughly 5,800 times its original purchase price, none of which will make it to Basquiat or his estate. How cruel is it that an artist who intimately knew poverty and struggle and who actively rallied against inequality and poverty created The Painting Currently Worth The Most Money? Even to consider auctions as a yardstick of an artist’s impact and quality is to relegate the value of art solely to capital. We do this as a society. The artists on the lips of those who don’t frequent museums, galleries, etc. etc. are all the artists whose work was considered to be high capital art. We plaster them on various utilitarian items the same way we would a color or a picture of a plant. They are treated as a natural resource to be plundered rather than protected or even used responsibility, as there is no conscience to capitalism. So if art auctions are not for artists, why do we care about them?

Art appreciators often follow these auctions for whatever reason. I assume its for similar reasons of people who enjoy cataloging and tracking memorabilia, theres an appeal to narrative behind objects. Though ultimately all the provenance added to a work is how much it cost at a certain point in time, which is an indication of an artists importance again only if you tie artistic value to capital. As it is an auction, it becomes a lottery of whether or not these paintings will even be seen by the public and therefore is not an innate value of the art auction but rather a potential occurrence resulting from The Right Buyer purchasing the painting. Why do art appreciators care about auctions, if all they learn is the cost of the painting, and maybe become vindicated about their tastes?

The only people who benefit from art auctions only ever seem to be action houses, the rich and if we’re lucky a museum or a benevolent rich person (therefore vicariously us). No money goes to the artist in the US, China, Japan but a small percentage is required to go to the artist or their estate for auctions in the EU and the UK. The end result is seeing rich people spend a lot on something they think is shiny. This is what rich people do with their free time. Coverage of an art auction ultimately only amounts to an announcement of what a capitalist spent their money on. They have nothing to offer us, outside a chance occurance of benevolence, as artists and art appreciators, they do not advance the careers of any artists, most of whom die before their legacy is cemented via the auction circuit and those that have not died are still making work because new work is their only means of income. So again, why do we care about art auctions? They are a leech of capitalism that has engulfed the art world to such a point as to almost be the very thing art orbits around. We see a record get broken and think “oh how nice for the artist” which relies on a framework still ultimately structured upon capital. Legacies are built by other people spending their money, not the strength of one’s work. This is quite frankly asinine and the point should be quite clear: thoroughly fuck art auctions and the art/capital complex. Now please purchase my art so that you may sell it for more money than you payed for so I can hope I’m not dead before I can pay off student loans with a single artwork.