#Rise Eterna War

[pyromanceri]

Rise Eterna War - prequel który chciałem. Ale nie do końca jaki chciałem

Dawno temu, w czasie kiedy byłem (bardziej) piękny i młody, ogrywałem taktyczną grę turową Rise Eterna. Po latach wspominam ją dość dobrze. Na tyle dobrze, że pod wpływem zagrania w jej bardzo odmienny prequel mam ochotę do niej wrócić i zagrać w nią ponownie. Czy to dobrze? Czy sam prequel zasłużył sobie na podobne uznanie?No i czy przedstawiciel gatunku popularnego za czasów gier flashowych ma…

[xboxissues]

New Xbox Games for August 19 to 23 2024

[thequeendomhq]

“Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts.”

Some time during the Dark Age –

A griffon shrieks – its large, dark wingspan making a shadow over the sun. It lands a few feet from a woman, an Elvhen, dressed in dark armor. “Revas,” the woman greets the Griffon, who, after a moment, turns into a rather large mimic of a dog, pressing its head against the Elvhen’s chest.

She laughs, her hand scratching the cheek of the large griffon, the momentary pain forgotten. It had been a long day, the barren land that she had just come from finally burnt and left behind. 

Those who had survived the onslaught of what eventually would become Eastreach had dragged themselves towards the safety of the broken Tower, towards any place where an Old God and the Dark One’s power could hopefully not reach. What they did not expect was the desperation that followed, the death that would rise in these places that only knew how to kill or be killed. More and more took the Joining, more and more would begin to understand their sacrifice, and more and more became ghouls.

“Isseya!” 

Another’s voice pulled the Elvhen from her thoughts, her hand dropping from Revas’ cheek even as the Griffon gave a huff of annoyance. 

A sandy colored Griffon landed a few feet away, a man sliding off its back, “Andoral has been sighted, coming for the islands – what do we do? Valeria Mordecai and the witches have made it to Eterna. They’ll never last against Andoral alone.”

Isseya glanced at Danaro, then to his griffon, “Valeria has the palantír. She’ll know. Take Shrike and wait for me by the ruined Tower. We will fight the Old God head on.” Her words were strong, but even she was just an Elvhen – just one soldier part of the pattern. The Light of the Laurelin still shined within her, blades that were conjured out of nothing that she would send flying towards the Darkspawn that dared to rear their ugly heads, and she was of Sylaise – she would sacrifice blood for her goddess, and pray that those she fought for would continue on.

The city that would become known as Eterna currently lay in waste ahead of her; broken and shattered buildings, a Tower with white marble that was stained with fire and missing pieces that had fallen into the bay below – the city Valeria Mordecai, the future queen, would rebuild stone by stone. It was a ruin from a previous age, the original name perhaps lost to time. Isseya turned towards Revas now as Danaro and Shrike took to the sky, flying towards the battered city ahead. 

“Ir abelas, Revas,” Isseya’s apology was quiet, but the Griffon was noble – it would never turn from such a fight, and the Legionnaire would never ruin his honor by sending him away. She reached for his back, climbing onto the Griffon as she looked at the Tower far off in the distance. “Lasa ghilan, Sylaise,” she whispered, and the two launched themselves forward, the shrieking of a dragon the only answer to the quiet prayer.

Amon Sûl, a few weeks before the fall of Iskaldrik –

“Veilcrest has always been the reason. It’s a stain on all of Taravell. We can’t destroy the Blight without ridding those who worship Lusacan–”

“You’re talking about a full on war with the Queen and all her followers, it’s madness.”

“Taravell has forgotten about us, we’d have no support, not even–”

“You’re right, but if they knew we were marching to our deaths? They’d support us even less–”

“–Or support us more. Lose Veilcrest or the Legion? They’d be fools to choose them over us!”

Voices continued to shout over one another, the halls of Amon Sûl no stranger to strife and disagreement. Legionnaires had been stationed here for years, those they dragged in, blighted and dying, and somehow survived the Joining – they had yet to leave. Even now, as different officers stood arguing around a large table with a map of Taravell, there didn’t seem to be any moment of respite. 

“Every minute we wait is another minute one of them could regain power. There are forces at work for all of them, nevermind the Dragon of Night.” This Legionnaire did not wish to speak the name Lusacan; names had power, and this one held fear in his heart.

“It’s not like they’re thanking Him for giving them a hobby, they–”

“Well what about the Darkspawn? Nornwatch has reported increased activity, they’re responding to someone–”

“Enough.” 

One voice seemed to silence the others, the Legion Commander standing now at the head of the table that the others stood at. The officers placed their arms over their chest in greeting, some looking annoyed they’d been interrupted, others chastised. 

“We do nothing.” Silas’ eyes were darkened with exhaustion, the commander moving towards a door. Voices called after him, but they were ignored as he shut a door behind him, closing off anyone who would enter the room that led to the staircase for the tower. Up and up he went, silent and weary. No one noticed the tiredness in his voice, or perhaps the way his blue eyes were always watching with an unknown emotion. No one dared question him, and those that had were admonished before they could ever finish their declaration. What good could the Legion be if they spent half their time in single combat, fighting over leadership?

Silas continued to walk the steps of the tower, the stone echoing every movement, every rustle of armor, every sigh – until he reached the top. The hilltop fort was one of the few things for miles around, and within the tower lay the only thing that Silas wished to look at. He walked towards the center of the room, a pedestal rising as he approached. Upon it was a round, crystalline stone. It glowed unnatural colors, twisting and turning, like it was whispering some quiet words as Silas got closer. The Commander pulled off one of his gauntlets, and he reached forward to place his hand upon the glass stone. 

The voices quieted, and Silas’ eyes turned white.

Aventia, Borderreach, Present Day –

“Oi! Get the hell out of my house!” An older man brandishing an axe chased after a young man, who was frantically gathering his clothes and sprinting out of the backhouse that he’d been caught in. The farmer’s daughter was left laughing in her beloved’s wake, watching as he ran, ass out, towards the woods. 

The young soldier stopped when he reached the treeline, a laugh on his lips as he thought about nearly getting axed by the farmer. Pulling his clothes on, he searched for the bow and arrow he’d set down. The woods were quiet, and as he trudged around, it wasn’t until he noticed how quiet that he took pause.

Not a single bird chirped, not even an insect dared to make a noise. 

This farm was settled on the edge of Aventia, the inner town itself a little worse for wear after being on the very border of Iskaldrik and Aetheron’s magical barrier. 

Suddenly, the ground started to shake, the young man falling backwards onto his bum as the noise suddenly became unbearable. Trees began to crash, creatures scuttled from their hiding spots as they sprinted past. The soldier couldn’t move quick enough, scrambling to his feet and discarding his bow and arrow as he raced away, back towards the village.

The farmer still had his axe, holding it up, “Hey! Ya little fucker, I’m gonna…” he cut off as the barrier started shifting, creatures shrieking and the forest seemingly coming alive as it groaned and creaked. 

“Run!” The ground continued to tremble, the farmer and his family gathering their horses. They raced away, despite the barrier…shrinking?

The soldier stopped, watching as it got smaller, and smaller –going further away. 

Eventually, the crashing noises ended, and silence fell upon the farm once more. 

He huffed out a laugh, unsure why they’d taken so much care to run the other way. He started to walk, following the tracks of the horses. It wasn’t a long march back to the town of Aventia, but the hoof prints he followed eventually were paired with…something else. 

Blood splattered in the mud, large sliding tracks that showed where a horse had fallen, where another had been dragged – and a severed leg was all that remained as he continued to walk. His weak stomach simply made him gag; an untrained soldier, he’d barely seen war. Aventia was a town plagued with pressure from the Iskaldran border, used to seeing witchers catch runaways, smugglers pass through with those they’d rescued. It was a strange town, but it had always been relatively peaceful – only because they avoided conflict as much as possible.

Until now. 

Smoke rose from one of the nearest farms, the entire home and field burning. The ground rumbled once more, and the young soldier had to lift his eyes to see the town of Aventia under siege. Creatures that he’d never seen before were climbing the wooden walls. Archers who hadn’t seen battle in many winters attempting to shoot them off. Screams echoed through the valley, and the young man suddenly wished he hadn’t left his arrows behind. 

Pulling the shortsword from his belt, he took a breath, ready to charge forward to help his home. A noise from behind him made him pause, however, the ground shaking with every step that seemed to come closer and closer. 

He turned, eyes lifting up to a monstrous creature that was born easily from nightmares. The ogre roared, and the young man fell backwards, eardrums shattering from the sheer proximity. The last thing he would see was the ogre’s axe swinging down. 

OOC Information:

Enjoy some spicy Legion things and a first insight into what those in Amon Sûl have been arguing about for a while…

Legionnaires will occasionally have visions of a blighted dragon in their dreams. Infrequent, but it leaves a bitter taste upon awakening.

The barrier surrounding Iskaldrik put up by Aetheron has shrunk. 

The town of Aventia is located in Borderreach, you can find it on the Lysara map. 

Aventia is under siege by a massive amount of darkspawn. News has spread towards Feronia and the edges of Northreach, and news will slowly be making its way down through the Silverlands and Lysara to Eterna. This is the first time in modern history that a large, seemingly coordinated attack has been made against a capital town by darkspawn. 

Lady Severian, a silver faiman and the ruling noble, has called for aid from Lórien’dal, Caer Glas Keep, Feronia, and Eterna.

Aventia is not known for its modern defenses, only its strategic location and old but sturdy stone walls. 

[claudiosuenaga]

World Destruction (Afrika Bambaataa e John Lydon) - 1984

John Joseph Lydon (nascido em Londres em 1956), também conhecido como Johnny Rotten, mais conhecido como vocalista das bandas Sex Pistols e PiL, um filho de imigrantes irlandeses que sempre demonstrou desprezo pela Família Real Britânica, em 1984 trabalhou com a banda Time Zone no seu mais conhecido single, "World Destruction".

Uma colaboração entre John, Afrika Bambaataa (nome artístico de Lance Taylor, nascido no Bronx em 1957) e o produtor/baixista Bill Laswell, o single foi um exemplo antigo de rap rock, junto com Run-DMC. A música aparece na coletânea de 1997 de Afrika Bambaataa, "Zulu Groove". John declarou em uma entrevista que a gravação foi muito rápida, que eles entraram em uma sala, colocaram uma batida de bateria em uma máquina e quatro horas e meia depois a "coisa toda" estava pronta.

Destruição Mundial

World Destruction

Fale sobre destruição

Speak about destruction

Fale sobre destruição

Speak about destruction

Essa é a destruição mundial, sua vida não é nada

This is a world destruction, your life ain't nothing

A raça humana está se tornando uma desgraça

The human race is becoming a disgrace

Países estão travando uma guerra química

Countries are fighting with chemical warfare

Sem dar a mínima para as pessoas que aqui vivem

Not giving a damn about the people who live

Nostradamus previu a chegada do Anticristo

Nostradamus predicts the coming of the Antichrist

Ei, cuidado, as nações do terceiro mundo estão em ascensão

Hey, look out, the third world nations are on the rise

A relação democrático-comunista

The Democratic-Communist Relationship,

Não terá chances contra as forças Islâmicas

Won't stand in the way of the Islamic force

A CIA está te procurando

The CIA is looking for you

A KGB é mais esperta do que você pensa

The KGB is smarter than you think

Mentalidades lavadas para controlar o sistema

Brainwash mentalities to control the system

Usando TV e filmes – religiões, é claro

Using TV and movies – religions of course

Sim, o mundo está caminhando para a destruição

Yes, the world is headed for destruction

Será uma guerra nuclear?

Is it a nuclear war?

O que você está pedindo?

What are you asking for?

Essa é a destruição do mundo, sua vida não é nada

This is a world destruction Your life ain't nothing

A raça humana está se tornando uma desgraça

The human race is becoming a disgrace

Os ricos ficam mais ricos

The rich get richer

Os pobres ficam mais pobres

The poor are getting poorer

Governos fascistas, chauvinistas e tolos

Fascist, chauvinistic government fools

Pessoas, Muçulmanos, Cristãos e Hindus

People, Moslems, Christians and Hindus

Estão em uma zona de tempo apenas buscando a verdade

Are in a time zone just searching for the truth

Quem é você para pensar que é de uma raça superior?

Who are you to think you're a superior race?

Enfrentando sua desgraça eterna

Facing forth your everlasting doom

Nós somos a Time Zone e viemos jogar uma bomba em você

We are Time Zone We've come to drop a bomb on you

Destruição mundial, kaboom, kaboom, kaboom!

World destruction, kaboom, kaboom, kaboom!

Essa é a destruição mundial, sua vida não é nada

This is the world destruction, your life ain't nothing

A raça humana está se tornando uma desgraça

The human race is becoming a disgrace

Nacionalidades estão lutando entre si

Nationalities are fighting with each other

Por que isso? Porque o sistema te diz

Why is this? Because the system tells you

Colocando as pessoas em categorias vazias

Putting people in faceless categories

O conhecimento já não é mais o que costumava ser

Knowledge isn't what it used to be

Táticas militares para controlar uma nação

Military tactics to control a nation

Quem quer ser um presidente ou rei? Eu!

Who wants to be a president or king? Me!

A Mãe Natureza vai trabalhar contra você

Mother Nature is gonna work against you

E não há nada que você possa fazer

Nothing in your power that you can do

Sim, o mundo está caminhando para a destruição

Yes, the world is headed for destruction

Você e eu sabemos, porque a Bíblia te diz

You and I know it, cause the Bible tells you

Se não começarmos a buscar uma vida melhor

If we don't start to look for a better life,

O mundo será destruído em questão de tempo

The world will be destroyed in a time zone!

Fale sobre destruição

Speak about destruction

Fale sobre destruição

Speak about destruction

Fale sobre destruição

Speak about destruction

[emotionalmultimediaride]

Game release: "Rise Eterna War" (PC, PS4, PS5, Xbox One, Xbox Series, Nintendo Switch)

Makee, Beast Games S. A. and Forever Entertainment S. A.‘s tactical fantasy RPG Rise Eterna receives a prequel with Rise Eterna War. I already covered the original game in this game release news way back in 2021, so it took quite some time to tell a story that takes place 10 years before. Here one plays as Arthbane who leads a tragic anti-hero faction against the Athracian army to prevents its…

[hksddr]

Rise Eterna War - Lead your battle against the Atracians

[worthplaying]

'Rise Eterna War' Also Comes To Nintendo Switch, PlayStation and Xbox Consoles, Release Date Set For Later This Month - Trailer

http://dlvr.it/TBX1GH

[casimirnoctis]

Casimir waved a hand, the action proved dismissive of the question, but the dhampir gathered the bare bones of any sufficient retort, "I don't wish to fight for wars that are long before my time." It would be difficult to explain the intricacies to Juneau in the time they had, nor did he feel it'd do any good; Lusacan, the Church of Night, his horrid uncle who was currently locked away in the Tower and the war Valerius attempted to instill upon Eterna, his fanatical mother who was Thee Vampire Queen. Really, it'd just be an overwhelming story that was chock full of too much personal details; being this shadow grifter was a much more important image for him to uphold with Juneau.

Casimir assessed her quietly, blood red hues panning over the entirety of her person as though indulging on each subtlety; the rise and fall of her chest, any uptick in her heartrate, the narrowing of her gaze. The dhampir abstained from laughing, merely shaking his head as a suitable action, "Have you never been offered anything merely because-" The question was redundant for Casimir had already presumed that was certainly not the case for Juneau; she was one who had to kneel within the muck and grime, use her teeth and claws to obtain anything she felt deserving of. A shrug is produced next, she needn't know the pathways Casimir had carved for himself in the frigid waste of a kingdom, but he'd wrought something out of nothing and was silently proud of such feat. "There's always a contract to cash in on, chances are I'll see you around," he didn't want to freak her out by saying he often cruised the city as a raven and would likely see her if she'd take the leap; baby steps and all that.

Casimir says little on her lack of trust - it's something any seasoned person in this field would respect and recognize, he can't hold that against her nor protest her reasoning. "Within the cisterns you'll find a tavern; that will take you to Loki's statue," Casimir reaffirms the location, it'd be hard to miss but he could sense her mild hesitancy towards the idea and hoped that a well-established route would warm her to the entire design of it all. He's amused at how Juneau tells on everything they both did not speak of; the elephant in the room that was Ivar. The dhampir's lips purse and his brows knit together, "No, from Yggdrasildal's law enforcement." Casimir makes a very I-told-you-so face as though he'd said anything to the contrary about Ivar and his temper.

Juneau did not shrink away from Casimir’s eye as he elaborated on his personhood, the reputation he seemed to assume must have proceeded him. The young wolf rejected authority to the point that she never took the time to learn significant names or circumstances–only enough to voice her disdain for the concept of such power and to relish in the way she defied the ruling class by smuggling those they would target with their cruelty to kinder lands. “And how did that come to be?” she asked, a brow quirking. The question was devoid of judgment, but she was certain there was a story there. The degree of his willingness to share it was to be foreseen. 

If it wasn’t about utilization, Juneau struggled to imagine what else could possibly advise his opinion of her, what litmus test he assessed her against. It made her feel stupid and inadequate not to understand, so despite the question’s desperate attempts to pass her lips, she kept her jaw tightly set and remained silent. The concept of a self-directed life was like a thrall to her, but it frightened her as well. She had never been alone, not really. The months she spent wandering the wilds until Ivar came upon her were the only time there was truly no one, and though the memories were hazy due to the passage of time, she knew it wasn’t something she wished to return to. Juneau folded her hands together, resting her thin, pointed elbows on her knees and leaning forward slightly to press her lips against the knuckles of her thumbs as she considered Casimir’s words. “How would I ask once it comes to that point?” she asked him. She was not so sure she wished to lord over a regime. She detested the feeling of loneliness, but she couldn’t imagine herself as much of a leader either. 

“I wouldn’t trust your promises even if you bothered to make them,” Juneau responded–she knew how thieves were. Selfish, honorless, supposedly thick. But she didn’t think thieves to be thick, not the good ones at least. Not the ones who evaded capture and prison. Her hands itched to sketch out the cisterns he mentioned, to ask him to describe them and draw them in her field notebook in accordance with even his most exact specifications. But she felt that asking him to describe them would suggest to him she was incapable of thinking for herself, so she did not.

Juneau’s eyes, a color that seemed to mimic the forest floors that landscaped the majority of her life, flickered to the side as she intuited what Casimir must be doing. “He’s nowhere close to us, I would know if he were,” she responded. They could sense one another up to a certain distance, and it always made her spine prickle with nervousness when she couldn’t sense him nearby. Juneau ignored the way her wolf sense informing her he was returning to proximity flooded her with a sense of dread more often than not. But what was love if not an entrapping, heavy rope?  At least that was the only way Juneau could describe it based on how she had experienced it. “Safely from him?” she asked before her face split into a confident, amused grin. “He doesn’t pose a threat to me, even with his temper. I don’t need to be protected from him.”

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Far, far from home, to a war Fought on foreign soil and Far, far from known, tell their tale, Their forgotten story Cobras fumantes, eterna é sua vitória Rise from the blood of your heroes You, were the ones who refused to surrender The 3, rather died than to flee, Know that your memory, Will be sung for a century....  

[porterdavis]

Steve Schmidt 

I find it necessary to reach for the language and colorful colloquialisms of my native land, New Jersey, in order to express my feelings about today’s event in Bedmimster. It was a fucking travesty. Truly. An utter Fucking disgrace. 

The President ofthe United States of America stood behind the Seal of his office framed by American flags and his private club’s membership slurring and raving about his victimization. His titanic self pity was only exceeded by his dishonesty and uncontrolled lying. His lying was only 2.Subordinate to his staggering idiocy, ignorance, ineptitude and incompetence. The incompetence, even after all this time, shocks the conscience. 162,000 Americans are dead and the economy is shattered. So many more will die. 

The evictions, foreclosures and small business closingsare just beginning. We are in the early hours of one of the greatest tragedies in our countries history. None of it had to be, but it has happened because Donald Trump is President. His malice, stupidity, ego and insecurity are a lethal combination. He has wrecked this country 4/in less than four years. He has induced a national nosedive, a decline that is precipitous, dangerous and humiliating. The world is more dangerous. 

American soldiers are hunted like animals by Taliban killers who are paid bounties by Russian killers and Trump does nothing 5/But KowTow to Putin and advance his agenda. Trump has divided the country and pitted Americans against each other. He has loosed violence against Peacefully assembled US Citizens and deployed militarized paramilitary forces to escalate tensions in American cities in the name of law and order when the real purpose and mission is to stoke the embers of chaos and create Fear. 

Fear, built on a mountain of lies, is the Autocrats sword and shield. Trump stokes fear to abuse his power and press forward with his assaults on the rule of law, our essential 7/Institutions and our national comity all in the name of his corruption, aggrandizement and cult of personality. It is a despicable hour in the life of this country. This will be ended because it must end. We will lose the country if Trump isn’t repudiated. 

Make no mistake about the intentions of a President who is openly undermining the 231 year old tradition of American elections. He is undermining the legitimacy of the coming election with no regard for the consequences to liberal democracy here and around the world. Fascism didn’t rise 9/In the thirties because it was strong. It rose because Democracy was weak. American Democracy is weak, decayed and led by an illiberal man who, I’d he could would cancel the election, lock up his political opponents, enrich his friends and remain in power for life 10/Trump is the greatest failure in American History. 

No American has failed history’s test in a more spectacular fashion. His stoking of racial tensions and a cold civil war in our land will live in infamy. His disgrace will be eterna

.@ProjectLincoln

[scaredycat113]

I'm Allie: A Biography Summarized

Hey all!

My name is Alyssa, but call me Allie, let's drop the formalitiles already; we're all friends here right?When I was a kid, I always had a thing for creating new realities in my head. Now some would call this "lying", but I just think those people are close minded. As a kid, I really liked to tell stories, I mean, who didn't?! Everyone would be tuned in to your every detail, actually listening (and hopefully enjoying) the tale you spun for them. I remember the first story I ever told (only because it went so badly). I was about 6 or 7 years old and someone asked if anyone had a scary story to tell. I did not, but I was determined to tell one anyway. It was a story of a man who woke to find his whole town abandoned. Long story short, his friends played a prank on him. I know what you're thinking... not clever or scary in the slightest, but I was 8 give me a break! Everyone groned, no one liked it, but I thought, "ya know what? I kinda like telling stories." and thus the writer in me was born.

Fast forward to 2008, Step-Up 2: The Streets had just come out. I LOVED THAT MOVIE. I mean taught myself every dance and learned every line kinda love for that movie (I'll challenge anyone to a dance off). So at the ripe age of 10, I wrote my first movie. It was called Step-Up 3: The Masquerade and it was fantasic (for a 10 year old. Give me some credit). For some unknown reason, Touchstone didn't pick it up (they missed out BIG TIME), but I kept on writing. I wrote a couple of short stories and entered into competitions. I got discouraged over the years and thought, "maybe writing just isn't for me." I loved it, but it seemed like no one else liked my work as much as I did. So I changed paths.

When I was in high school, I wanted to go into international relations. I figured it would be really fun and rewarding to work with companies in different nations and try to help them breach the communicational gap. All was fine and dandy until I met my high school drama teacher, Mr. Wells. Mr. Wells had that contagious type of passion (I hope every student, regardless of subject, finds a teacher like him). We had a section where we had to write a play and I thought, "I already wrote a movie so this will be a piece of cake!". It was not. I worked for weeks on that play and turned up to class with a pile of crap. The frothy diarrhea icing on that cake was having it performed by my classmates that day so I could fully bask in the embarrasment that was my 14 page crapfest. After seeing my AWFUL play actually performed I thought, "I can do better." and so I did.

Junior year of high school we had a student-directed play festival. Of the 20-something years this festival had been going, no one entered in an original script, so I decided to enter this play festival with my new creation, a play titled, "Take a Number, Please". It was about a man who walked into a the ER with a head injury who's asked to take a number by the nurse at reception. Throughout the play, many other patients walk in with trivial injuries (a woman had lipstick on her tooth which she couldn't get off, another swallowed a bug), but the nurse lets them go through to see the doctor immediately. Turns out, the man who came in first is a patient at the hospital who periodically wanders down to the ER and complains of a head injury because he has amnesia and all of the other people walking into the ER are just in his head. Not a novel concept by any means, but it was mine and I treated it like my baby. The first night of the festival, my play was a hit. I had parents coming up to me saying how much they enjoyed my play, but the most rewarding part was hearing people laugh at my jokes and "awww" at the struggles of the characters I created. It was the highlight of my high school days, no doubt. This lit a fire under my ass.

Freshman year of college I had designated myself as a communication major, but one of the electives I signed up for was a scriptwriting class. It was the first time I really got to explore my writing and I loved every second of it. This was the year I really got to express my hidden side. A side that was a little bit dark and twisted. I wrote a play called, "Psychomachia" which boils down to "battle of spirits" or "soul war" (but Psychomachia sounded way cooler). It was about a girl who was struggling with two halves of herself, a light side and a dark side. Both my classmates and my professor loved this piece and, I'm not gonna lie, so did I. This piece was the first true expression of how I felt at the time and I cherished every second of writing it. Then I let others get to me...

"There's no money in writing." "You can't make a living off creative writing." I believed it. I figured I'd put my time into a career where I could support myself after graduation, so I stopped writing. I changed my goal back to international relations. I figured if I loved it once, I could love it again. Oh how wrong I was. I took a political science class and fell asleep as soon as the professor started talking (no dig on Prof Edwards, he was great). So I changed my goal, once again, to public relations with the hopes of becoming a social media manager, but I wasn't thrilled about it. I had no passion for it, I just figured it would give me a solid income to live on.

Spring semester of my Junior year I took a communication course called, "Gaming and Avatars". The course talked about how we can communicate all sorts of ideas through video games. This course was utterly illuminating for me. Not only did I meet my significant other in this class (shout out to my guy, KN, you know who you are), but I found my new love as well, communicating.... THROUGH VIDEO GAMES. What a crazy idea, right?! I could connect two things I absolutely loved doing... and get paid for it?? Who knew?!

So there I was, about to graduate college and questioning every decision I made in my undergrad. At this point I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to write for video games. The problem was getting my foot in the door. I contacted countless game studios and sent my resume hoping and praying someone would give me a chance. Every studio I applied to would look at my resume and respond (if they responded at all), "We don't have any PR positions available." and I would tell them that what I really wanted to do was write. They would usually stop responding after that. So I enrolled in a master's program for creative writing hoping that it would give me some credibility in the field. But I felt like I was behind. I felt like I started late because I didn't study writing during my undergrad.

So I worked my ass off and built my portfolio. I wrote short film scripts, scripts for a web series, and I even made a game. During this time I still applied to game studios. I would send them whatever script I was working on or my game, but still no dice, until...

June 30th, 2020 (yes, I saved the date, judge me if you want). I got my first commision to write for the fantastically brilliant Rise Eterna. I was nervous and second guessing if I was really cut out for this, but there was no time to consider it; I am a game writer.

So there it is. Thanks for sticking around. I know this post was a journey, but now you know a little bit about me.

Stay tuned for more blog posts in the future (the won't be as long, I pinky swear)! Also check out my website, because I post blog content there first.

Write on,

Allie

[mori--calliope]

Smoking Snakes, The Last Stand, and To Hell and Back get me really emotional and it makes me really happy the way Sabaton pays honors in their lyrics. 

“Cobras Fumantes, eterna é sua vitória Rise, from the blood of your heroes You were the ones who refused to surrender The three, rather die than to flee, know that your memory will be sung for a century” ”For the grace, for the might of our lord In the name of his glory For the faith, for the way of the sword Come and tell their story again” “If there’d be, Any glory in war Let it rest On men like him“

I don’t really know how to explain it but the notion of recollecting stories and passing them down is really sentimental to me, there’s no higher honor I can think of than people commending and spreading your bravery to others through song and story out of sheer respect and just... honor. I just can’t over the pure honor of this band, I hate being sappy but the genuine sympathy of this band is really touching to me. Especially the way they don’t make their songs sad or mopey, they’re always upbeat or energizing. It’s not like they’re putting their memory to rest through their albums, it’s always keeping their stories alive and coursing through you, like Red Baron, Soldier of 3 Armies, Devil Dogs, A Ghost in the Trenches. It’s almost like they’re reinvigorating the soul they’re singing for, putting their thoughts and emotions into the keys and melody. Especially the key shift in A Ghost in the Trenches at the end, almost like they gave up morale halfway and either their adrenaline or hope kicked back in to overdrive for one last push. And the bridge for Devil Dogs is insanely inspiring, just hearing it rushes waves of glory and awe over you, it really encapsulates the prime morale you would hope for in a situation like that. 

I don’t expect a lot of people to understand this but I always felt that despite whatever side you’re on in a war, on the battlefield there is no barrier between you and the enemy and that you all in that moment are the same. Desperate, scared, starving, brothers. You’re forced into this, and they are too, it’s not personal it’s just mandatory. Historically some are just dogs of war, slaves to their own lack of humanity, soulless dregs of hell. But some men would be your companions, brothers, in another life. They’re not different than what you would have been if you had switched places. They would bury you, pray for you, they would tell your story for you if the time had come. Is it a romanticization? Of course it is, I don’t know what war is like. I may never have to experience it in my life. Firearms and Swords are a lot different as well. But the best way to understand someone is to ask their blade, and I’d imagine you could tell much about the man with the barrel in your face all the same. 

[thequeendomhq]

THE SPAWN ~

NAME. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. UTP SPECIES. Werewolf FACTION. UTP OCCUPATION. UTP

Grandson of Feronia herself, eldest son of Ulric the Bloodied, rebellion was in your veins. You were raised on stories of your own greatness; your father barked about the power of Haven and how these Lysarans were lucky that the wolves did not choose to rise up against them. You could see nothing but the greatness that was cast from him and the pride that came with being set to inherit that indomitable force of will. Your father’s son, heir to Haven and future alpha of Feronia. He promised it all, and you ingrained it into your heart that this would be your destiny, first Haven, next Eterna. Ulric’s quest to reunite the pack against Queen Arethusa plunged the city into civil war, and you were by his side the entire time. Few wept for Ulric when he was cut down by the shewolf who would claim the title of alpha, but you were among those who mourned him. Aurea had taken your father from you and your birthright, but Lupercalia would come, you would fight, and then destiny would be yours for the taking once again.

CONNECTS

N/A

NOTES

N/A

this skeleton is currently open

[claquetevirtual]

Análise do trailer final de A Ascensão Skywalker

Monday Night Football deixou de ser apenas uma evento para os fãs do futebol americano e passou a ser também uma data importante para os admiradores de Guerra nas Estrelas, aproveitando que a Disney é dona da ESPN, a Lucasfim tem aproveitado a enorme audiência do esporte combinado com o público geek para divulgar novos trailers da atual trilogia de Star Wars, A Ascensão Skywalker não foi exceção e nessa segunda-feira, dia 21, aniversário da eterna Carrie Fisher (que faria 63 anos se estivesse viva), o esperado longa ganhou um comercial caprichado e como é tradicional no Claquete Virtual, não poderíamos ficar sem fazer uma análise rápida das imagens e especularmos enquanto 19 de dezembro não chega (ficaremos MUITO ansiosos, até lá)!

A peça começa com Rey (Daisy Ridley) correndo em uma floresta ao estilo Yavin 4. Ela parece estar treinando e temos vislumbres do capacete e das bolas remotas que seu mestre Luke utilizava para desenvolver suas habilidades Jedi. Ela move seu sabre para desviar dos ataques e salta um enorme penhasco que não deixa de ser análogo ao buraco surgido entre ela e Kylo Ren no clímax de O Despertar da Força, mostrando o quanto a Força cresceu dentro dela entre os três capítulos. A cena corta pra ela realizando saltos parecidos agora no que parece ser as ruínas da Estrela da Morte, algo que igualmente nos remete ao Episódio VII, onde a moça de Jaaku já explorava c/ destreza as sucatas dos gigantescos Star Destroyers soterrados ali (deixando claro os seus talentos, desde então).

Vozes em off se sucedem, “É um instinto. Uma sensação. A Força nos uniu”, diz Finn (John Boyega), que está olhando por um binóculo para o horizonte distante, um frame da amiga dele correndo depois temos a deixa para chegarmos a um hangar da Resistência cheia de gente, contrastando com o minguado grupo de combatentes que haviam sobrevivido no final de Os Últimos Jedi. É a vez de Poe Dameron narrar: “Nós não estamos sozinhos. Boas pessoas vão lutar se o liderarmos.”, afirma o piloto alçado a um dos nomes mais importantes no comando da organização que resiste (entenderam?) a opressão da Primeira Ordem. Billy de William pode ser visto nitidamente no meio da turba, regressando como Lando Calrissian, além dele, temos um destaque rápido em Rose (Kelly Marie Tran), que não havia aparecido ainda no material de divulgação do Episódio IX, com a moça acompanhada da personagem interpretada por Billie Lourd (filha de Carrie Fisher) e Dominic Monaghan (o Merry de O Senhor dos Anéis) em um papel não revelado (mas no que parece ser um momento de evacuação da base). Até a Tantive IV dá as caras, ou um modelo similar, sobrevoando as árvores. Foi nela que a Princesa Leia escapou e deu o pontapé inicial a saga Star Wars no distante ano de 1977, numa das melhores aberturas de todos os tempos na 7ª arte.

Em meio a poderosas ondas batendo nos escombros da segunda Death Star, vemos Rey com o azul reconhecível do sabre de luz reconstruído de Anakin Skywalker, de perto notamos melhor a tensão em sua face, ela olha fixo para a silhueta de Kylo (Adam Driver) saindo das águas todo molhado e ligando sua arma característica. Rey comenta em off que “Todos falam que me conhecem, mas ninguém conhece”, com Ben Solo respondendo: “Mas eu conheço”, suscitando mais debates sobre o passado e o parentesco dela e a relação (possivelmente amorosa?) entre os dois. Para o deleite de quem torce para a parceria “reylo” virar realidade e preocupação para quem torce contra a união.

Um grupo enorme de Tie-Fighters passam rumo a um lindo “iceberg” flutuando no espaço e local do que parece ser um posto avançado ou vilarejo. É sempre bom ver ambientes novos se somando aos familiares. Nisso de juntar a novidade com o já conhecido, vemos um trono, presumidamente do Imperador, suspeitamente semelhante a uma velha ilustração de Ralph Mcquarrie para O Retorno de Jedi. Resgatar conceitos não utilizados do artista que desenhou o visual da trilogia clássica é algo feito com certa frequência e o diretor J.J. Abrams parece ter certo prazer em fazê-lo.

A Millenium Falcon reaparece acompanhada de um número impressionante de spaceships, olhares atentos vão notar modelos super conhecidos de filmes passados e até do material que vai além do cinematográfico, como a Ghost do desenho Rebels. Parece que toda a ajuda será necessária na batalha que está por vir em The Rise of Skywalker (conta horadas de naves Imperiais aparecendo do chão e das nuvens e provocando explosões homéricas). Não poderia faltar nessa hora uma imagem dos heróis reunidos no cockpit e prontos para fazer a diferença. Como combater o líder dos Cavaleiros de Ren e atravessar o mar revolto para chegar à Estrela da Morte, caída na ilha florestal ou mesmo no planeta de Endor, será que encontraremos algum Ewok nessa aventura?

Novas figuras se juntam a essa história de figurinhas batidas, como o alienígena construtor, Babu Frik, que parece trabalhar em modificações especiais em C3-PO, provavelmente relacionados aos misteriosos olhos vermelhos do androide protocolar apresentado no trailer anterior, aqui temos um dos instante mais emocionantes dessa prévia, quando o famoso parceiro de R2-D2 (BB-9 também ganhou um parceirinho, chamado de D-O) responde a uma indagação de Poe: “O que está fazendo ai¿”, no que ele vira e revela: “Dando uma última olhada... Nos meus amigos.” Os nossos chegam a lacrimejar. Duas curiosidades poderiam passar despercebidas em meio as fortes emoções do instante, uma é a presença de Zori Bliss (Keri Russel), uma caçadora de recompensas que já pintou em imagens promocionais com um disco que pode estar conectado com as transformações em 3PO. Outra é o bacana “easter egg” do Dróid da Federação de Comércio pendurado ao fundo, ressaltando a promessa dos produtores em encerrar não somente o arco atual mas fazer referência e finalizar a “jornada Skywalker” como um todo, vide esses elementos extraídos direto dos prelúdios.

Chewbacca ruge e temos uma sequência de ação onde o Wookie está acompanhado de Finn e Dameron, abrindo passagem contra Stormtroopers em um corredor. No planeta desértico Pasaana, o trio reaparece durante uma perseguição, com BB-8 fazendo das suas e usando o que parece ser fogos de artifício virarem uma arma para lhes ajudar a escapar. Para a alegria do grupo que grita e sorri de contentamento. Outro que está feliz é Lando, de volta a sua nave perdida em um jogo de sabacc para Han Solo. Chewie seguindo como copiloto, obviamente. Vibes da batalha espacial do Episódio VI podem ser sentidas aqui. Uma Y-Wing atira contra um Destroyer. E servem de exemplos.

Finn surge cavalgando “cavalos espaciais” ao lado da guerreira Jannah (vivida por Naomi Ackie), que muitos especulam ser filha do galanteador e antigo dono da Cidade das Nuvens, com BB-8 correndo junto a eles no casco de uma nave imperial enquanto um grande confronto estoura nos céus entre fighters e naus de todos os tipos e para todos os gostos. Um take extra do ex-Stormtropper com Dameron sugere que eles passarão muito tempo de tela juntos ao longo do Episode 9, como tantos queriam desde que eles desenvolverem sua química ao se conheceram em Force Awakens.

“Confrontar o medo é o destino de um Jedi”, fala Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill, reassumindo o manto) em off. “Seu destino”, acrescenta. Para então notarmos que Rey e Kylo estão se encarando na velha conhecida e destruída sala do trono do Imperador Palpatine. Tudo rima nesse poema visual de George Lucas. Trechos dos (vários) embates entre a mocinha e o antagonista vão se sucedendo rapidamente, com Finn gritando em socorro a ela e numa outra oportunidade, um altar ou estátua acaba destruído pelo choque de seus sabres. Vale notar que a moça segura uma adaga nesse momento (algum artefato Sith ou relacionado a Mortis?) e a estrutura negra poderia ser o altar onde o neto deixa a máscara de Darth Vader. O interior, contudo, é branco, meio que reminiscente dos interiores retrô/futurista da Cloud City e até mesmo da Tantive, se não for a própria, quem sabe.

Durante o vídeo, a inconfundível voz de Darth Sidious vai pontuando a ameaça constante do Lado Negro. Ian McDiarmid empresta novamente sua voz para o Imperador. “Há muito eu esperei e está tudo se juntando agora. Será o seu fim”, ele diz. Kylo-Ben tem um close em meio as luzes dos trovões and lens flares (tão características nos trabalhos do cineasta que se segura para não colocá-los em todo lugar), antes de cortarmos para Rey olhando para um ocupado trono negro (aquele do início e homenagem as ilustrações de Mcquarrie) onde uma túnica suspeita forma a silhueta do Imperador.  Confirmado: ele estará de volta! De alguma forma. Mesmo que como apenas uma “aparição”. Contudo, antes das cortinas fecharem com a revelação “bombástica”, Mestre Luke lembra em off: “A Força vai estar com você”, no que vemos sua pupila com o sabre ligado criando um bonito contorno azul (cor do título) e brilhando em seus olhos, bem emocionados. “Sempre”, ouvimos Leia (Fisher) dizer. Chega a dar um nó na garganta ela ter terminado a frase. We miss her!

[arwowear]

History and Evolution of Minimalist Analog Watch in the World

The Wristwatch was originally designed to be worn as a contemporary accessory around one’s wrist. It acted as a portable clock or watch, and was extremely convenient for many people, when it was first invented. The wristwatch was initially discovered around the 17th century, and took its inspiration from the traditional spring clocks. Throughout the course of its history, a watch was usually a mechanical device and was typically driven by clockwork. Built by a German, it was difficult and considered an art to accurately run a mechanical watch. 

The first portable watches were , however, invented in the 16th century, when engineers and manufacturers were finally capable of inventing an item that was both portable and could accurately tell the time. The initial models were extremely heavy, and had to be worn as a pendant. They also consisted of only the ‘hour’ hand, and were neither reliable nor durable, in terms of being able to withstand harsh weather conditions, noise, etc. 

The idea of carrying something as a pendent, called for an idea to hold a watch in one’s pockets. Charles II of England introduced this idea-waistcoats; small pocket watches which had a string that could be attached or connected to one’s suit. This became an immediate fashion trend, and a pocket minimalist analog watch became a luxury male fashion wear, and pendant watches were seen as women’s Jewellery. 

Transformation of a minimalist analog watch

Initially, the minimalist analog watch was seen as a women’s Jewellery, and later moved onto becoming a part of male attire during the second world war. Soldiers became more accustomed to wearing wristwatches so they could read time from wherever, even during battles. This called for the invention of ‘quartz watches’. The quartz is powered by a battery and is a lot cheaper than a mechanical watch. This movement almost led to the end of traditional watchmakers. 

The arrival of a small minimalist analog watch that was portable, lightweight, carried anywhere and accurately announced the time of the day was greatly appreciated by scientists, politicians, businessmen and labourers alike. After years and years of hardwork and dedication, innovators came close to the idea of developing a minimalist analog watch that was accurate sans the availability of mechanical clocks. Automatic watches are a culmination of various mechanisms, most of which use eccentric weights configured around the pivot, that spin while the users’ hands are moving. A lot of mechanisms behind these particular watches relied on physics principles of transferring kinetic energy created by the users’ hand movements to power the ‘automatic’ minimalist analog watch to move for a couple of days. 

Further Evolution of the classic minimalist watches

In the mid 18th century, people also tried to develop electric and a kind of classic minimalist watches as well. This style however did not stick around for a very long time. Around the late 1950’s Seiko introduced one of the first classic minimalist watches that could be powered by batteries and a quartz crystal, giving rise to quartz watches.

Much later on, famous classic minimalist watches companies such as Rolex added a new system of weights, which culminated in a free movement and could record energy that could last easily for about 35 hours. A new perspective was brought to the watches by Eterna Watch, which introduced ball bearings to the automatic watches, which thereby resulted in better control over the various, numerous internal components of classic minimalist watches and also maintained the structural composition of the watch during harsh conditions, thereby increasing its durability. 

Of course, modern minimalist classic or stylish watches are far more developed, with a greater stance of technological advancement. There are currently very few modern watches makers that utilize the older techniques and physical compositions of these watches, ranging from a change in mechanism to the materials being used. There are numerous, alternating stories concerning the origin of the modern, automatic classic minimalist watches. The most accepted one, however, dates back to John Harwood, who was known to have invented the self-winding mechanism of the modern wristwatch. 

The classic minimalist watches in Today’s Time 

In many ways, the watches we use today are similar in structure and function to the watches worn by soldiers in the world wars. The evolution of classic minimalist watches is truly fascinating and inspiring. To see how a sundial made up of complicated mathematics and science is now turned into a simple piece of fashionable accessory is indeed revolutionary.  

In today’s time, the watch is trendy and symbolizes simplicity and signature style. Owning them has become so easy that you can order them online from the comfort of your home. Their lives have been increased, accuracy has improved and the classic minimalist watches have become a thing of style. Smartwatches are also getting involved day by day that tells your health status apart from telling time. These watches have come a long way from analog to being digital, but a simple wristwatch that reflects your personality is never out of fashion. 

If you are also looking for a minimalist analog watch or classic minimalist watches that reflects your style statement, you can visit www.arvowear.com and get them on your wrist from the comfort of your home. 

Visit to get your suitable minimalist analog watch or classic minimalist watches: www.arvowear.com 

[orilium]

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