#at the same time not having lived here at all as an adult

[autisticoscarpiastri]

Kiss and Make Up - Norstappen x reader

If Lando wins the championship, I take full responsibility for it.

Warning: Like one swear? Arguments between Max and Lando

It’s the start of winter break, and you couldn’t be happier. You’re off of school for over a month and your boyfriends didn’t have any race for awhile. The perfect time to stay home and chill. Or so you thought. It started subtle at first, either boy saying they were staying over with a friend while the other was in your shared apartment. One of them always bailing on date night, but never both of them.

It all culminated one rare night when both boys were in the apartment, when you were watching Home Alone with Lando in the living room while Max was streaming. Lando was cuddled up to you, covered in the fuzziest blanket while you played with his curls. It was utter bliss. Well, it was until Max came out to the kitchen to refill his water bottle, knowing you would berate him if he drank only Red Bulls all day. As soon as Max opened the door to exit his stream room, Lando pulled his head from under your hand, sitting straight up, glaring at Max. Max didn’t notice at first, but once he did, he rolled his eyes and let out a scoff. You, having noticed Lando moving from under your hand, saw the whole interaction unfold. This was the last straw. You sat up on the couch and asked “What is up with you two? Ever since break started there’s been an animosity between you two. One of you always bails on dates or is staying with a friend.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t steal the Championship from me,” Lando said.

“It’s not stealing when I was ahead the whole season. It’s not my fault you fumbled the bag,” Max responded.

Lando opens his mouth to reply but you beat him to it. “Okay, what we’re not gonna do is fight like we’re children. How about you two talk it out like normal, functioning adults.” Both men had their arms crossed, refusing to look at each other. “Okay, well if you two won’t talk it out with me here, I guess I’ll have to stay over at a friend’s place until you guys sort this out. This relationship only works with mutual respect.”

“Babe.”

“Schat,” they said at the same time.

“I won’t hear it. I’m gonna go pack my things, and I won’t be back until this is sorted.” With a final nod, you get up from the couch to go to your room to pack a suitcase.

The boys sit on the couch with as much space between them as possible. They stayed like that even after you left.

Lando let out a huff. “What does she think we are, a couple of kids fighting on the playground?”

Max sighs. He has missed having his boyfriend and hated having to tiptoe around him when he wanted to spend time with you. “I’m sorry for avoiding you. I know it must be hard for you to finally have a good enough car to be in the running for the championship only to barely miss the mark. It’s the closest anyone’s gotten and you’re part of that feat.”

“I’m sorry too, for all the bitchy comments I’ve about in interviews. You truly deserve this title, no matter what I say.”

They then go into a somewhat awkward hug, affection with each other was never either man’s strong suit.

“What were you two watching before all this?” Max asks.

“Home Alone,” Lando responds.

“What’s it about?” Max inquires.

“Oh, you’ve never seen it?! It’s a Christmas classic. Let me start it from the beginning.”

It wasn’t until the next morning that you got a text message saying they made up.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Mortality Defined

Masterlist Word count: 1.6 k Halsin x Reader Read on AO3

Summary: You are a human, Halsin is an elf. Your lifespan is much shorter than his and he wonders if life is worth living if you're not in it.

Writer's note: I don't know why but I still can't post a full work here. I don't know why. If anyone has any solutions for me, please let me know. I'm getting frustrated.

The year changes from sunlit beach days to a sunset of leaves. Halsin always admires this time of year. The dying of the world in anticipation for new life. It's a wonderful thing and something he often ponders on.  A year is an hour in the long, long lifespan of an elf. In Halsin's busy and chaotic life it feels more like a second, but these past weeks travelling with her and the other friends he made felt like centuries. She, so humble and kind, carried the world on her shoulders.  He feels he will never understand her fully. She is human. Where he has already lived 350 years, she will get a 100 if she's lucky. With their way of life, it will probably be less. A human's body dies around them every second of every day after they're done growing.  She was 27 when they embarked on their journey to safe Faerun, a young adult in human years. When he was 27 he was just latching off the helping hands of his parents. She told him she had been living on her own since she was 18.   Now she's 32 and has been living with him since the Absolute was put down. He can tell she's slowly ageing. She is forming some smile lines and little crows feet at the corners of her eyes. Halsin hadn't really thought about elderly people as his kind doesn't visibly age much after a certain point, but then he was confronted with Shadowheart's mother who looked so frail. It suddenly made him realize that she will someday look like that as well.  Even so, there's this thing that is only found in those that are human. The phenomenon of the Impenetrable Human Spirit. A death grip on life, refusal to let go in the direst of times. When all the odds are stacked against you but you refuse to let them define you. Which sounds strange until you meet a few humans in time of war. After he realized that, he understood why so many Flaming Fists are human.  He hopes he'll never have to witness it again but to see someone so fiercely cling onto life while any other would have already perished in the same circumstances is truly a sight. Humans are a force to be reckoned with. Even with their short lifespans, they try to put something worthwhile on this plane. They want to feel accomplished.  'Halsin, dinner's ready,' her angelic voice calls from inside and Halsin snaps out of his trance. 'Did you want to eat outside?' He looks over his shoulder through the open backdoor of their cosy little cottage, straight into the kitchen where she is plating up dinner. She's a wonderful cook, an amazing partner, and a great artist. His days are spent trying to find the best way to worship her being in hopes it'll buy her another year.  'That'd be lovely. Thank you.’ She walks out with two plates and a smile on her face. He takes his plate from her as she sits down on the grass next to him.  'You were so far away all day,' she notes with her smile still on her lips, 'where did your mind go?'  'My heart, you would not want to know.'  'Don't worry me, love. You can tell me.' Halsin takes a second to compose himself, playing with his food for a second. She always tells him everything, what reason does he have to keep his worries to himself? She'll understand. She always does.  'I was pondering your mortality.'  'How so?'  'Well, I have nothing but time, but that is not the same for you. I have lived over three centuries. That's three, maybe four, human lifetimes. You are merely a tenth of my age and yet you feel like an equal.' He looks over to her, a somber smile now plays on her lips.  'That's not all, is it?'  'It is not.'  'Are you worried you will be alone after I pass? That you won't have enough time to know me?'  'Something like that, yes.'  'Something like that?' 

Read the remainder on AO3

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

Stuck on the Past | Part 8

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You never thought you'd see Bradley Bradshaw again, especially the way things ended between the two of you. So what happens when he's suddenly back for a special mission and is determined to win you back too?

Warnings: Angst (ish), adult language, drinking

Length: 1.8k

Stuck on the Past masterlist

"We need to talk."

Bradley stood in front of you, his heart pounding and slightly breathless from jogging up the stairs to your door. As soon as he'd docked, he'd sped towards your apartment, probably running a few red lights along the way. He knew he probably looked tired and he was still in his flight suit, but you were the only thing on his mind. He didn't have time to waste. He didn't know what he was going to say or do, he just knew he had to see you and the right words would find him. Hopefully.

When he pulled up outside your building, his first thought was that you wouldn't buzz him in, so he couldn't believe his luck when April opened the the main entrance at the same time he'd been walking towards it.

She saw him immediately and had held the door open tentatively, almost guarding the building, looking him up and down, before sighing, "Great timing, she's upstairs." He nodded quickly and moved to walk in, but she stopped him, her voice stern, "Don't fuck it up this time, Bradshaw."

"I wont." he said quickly, as he held her stare. Eventually, April nodded, and stood aside to let him in. "Thank you." he said, before jogging in the direction of your door.

Once he was stood outside, he wasted no time in knocking. But when you answered almost instantly, he realised he still hadn't thought of what he was going to say, so he settled on, "We need to talk."

Your breath caught in your throat as you saw him, "Bradley?"

"I'm here." he huffed, "Can I come in? Please?"

You bit your lip nervously and nodded, cautiously letting him inside. He walked into your living room and frowned as he saw the boxes scattered across the floor. His eyes flicked from box to box as you said, "Ignore all the boxes, I'm-"

"Are you moving?" he quickly turned to face you.

You nodded, unable to meet his eyes, "It's a long story-"

"But you didn't write the article?" Bradley took a few steps towards you, his head spinning as he hoped you were just moving to a new place somewhere close by.

You shook your head, "No. I didn't write it." You watched as Bradley glanced at all the boxes again, "I got another job... In Washington. My flight leaves tomorrow."

His eyes met yours once again. He paused, before shaking his head, "No. You're not leaving."

You frowned, "Bradley, I'm sorry about what happened but-"

"No." he said, taking another step towards you, "You're not leaving. You can't." he paused, "I almost died out there. I almost died so I can't... I won't waste anymore time on- on running, running from us, from... being happy." he ran a hand through his hair, "You make me happy. That's the bottom line. I want that for the rest of my life and I know you do too."

"Bradley..." you sighed.

"I've been in love with you since the minute I saw you," he continued, "and you know what? Through all the deployments and moving, that's the only constant thing in my life. Whether we're together or we're not, it doesn't matter because I love you." he rambled, "When I first saw you, at the Hard Deck, I couldn't believe my luck. It's like I was being given another chance to do things right. I thought... it was like, fate or something."

You felt a lump in your throat as he continued, "And when- when I found out about the article, I was upset, you know, I was pissed." he huffed, "But I was more angry with myself. I was angry because I screwed us up, you were right, okay? I ran." he stepped forward and gently placed his hand on your cheek, "But I'm not that person anymore, I'm not scared anymore, I want you. All of you. I want cheesy movies and late night talking, I want you to beat me at pool every single time we play." he chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, "I love you. I always have and sweetheart, that's just the way it's always going to be. So you're not leaving. You can't."

Bradley let out a tense breath and watched you closely as he waited for you to say something. He didn't think he'd been that honest with anyone in years, but there was no way in hell he could lose you a second time.

Your eyes drifted from his and towards the floor, "Bradley.." you sighed and finally met his eyes, "You were the love of my life and I... I think about you all the time, but-"

"No," he muttered, "No buts, please-"

You shook your head and took a step back from him, "You and I... We don't work. We might have worked for a little while back then, but that was years ago. Things are different now, I'm different and I can't-" you took a breath, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill, "I can't put myself through loving you again. Not when it's bound to end the same way."

"Sweetheart-"

"I think you should leave." you crossed your arms, wanting to look strong, clam and collected, when really all you wanted was to run to him and tell him everything was fine. You knew, however, that you couldn't, that you needed a fresh start, that it was the rational thing to do.

Bradley said nothing. The most he could do was give you a small and curt nod, before quietly leaving your apartment.

That was when you let the tears come.

It was the next morning, while waiting to board your flight, that he called you. You'd spent all night second guessing your decision, going to call him and then switching your phone off, you'd practically forced yourself through the airport. It was times like these when you wished you had some sort of angel or something to tell you what to do, whether you should make the smart decision or the reckless one. You watched as he called, deciding ultimately not to pick up, since it was almost boarding time anyways, but you couldn't resist listening to the voicemail he'd left you.

You found a quiet corner of the airport and pressed play.

Hey, uh, I was just going to call to say that I hope you have a safe flight.

There was a pause.

Okay, no, I know that's what I should be saying but-

You heard him groan.

If by some miracle you listen to this before you get on the plane, could you just do one thing for me? Switch off your brain for a second. You've always been smart, way smarter than me, but I need you to just.. not be, just for a minute.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you carried on listening.

I want you to listen to your heart for a sec. I know it sounds cheesy sweetheart, but I need you to think about how you feel. If you don't love me, go ahead and get on that plane, and I promise you, I will never bother you again. But if you do...

You heard him sigh.

I'm gonna be waiting for you tonight at the Hard Deck. If you don't come by 11... then I'll know, and I'll try to move on, even though my heart is and will always be yours. Goodbye sweetheart.

The line cut off and you stared at your phone screen for what felt like forever, until a voice echoed through the airport.

"Flight 731 to Washington is now boarding. All passengers on flight 731 to Washington, your flight is now boarding."

-

Bradley sat at the bar of the Hard Deck and checked his watch for the eighth time, 10.46. He sighed and glanced around the bar again, feeling stupid, because for all he knew, you hadn't even got the voicemail and had maybe even already landed in Washington.

He tapped his fingers against the bar top, quickly turning when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but sighing when it was only Mav. He sat down on the stool next to him, clearing his throat, "You okay?"

Although the two men had spoken a bit about their past and were on their way to mending things, it was still slightly awkward between them. Bradley shrugged a little and took a sip of his beer, "I'm, uh, I'm waiting for someone, who I'm not sure is even gonna show up." he grunted.

Mav grinned a little, "Is this 'someone' a girl, by any chance?" Bradley nodded as he continued, "Well, I've never had the best luck with women," he chuckled, "but you want my advice? Trust the universe."

Bradley snorted, "Never took you for a spiritual guy, Mav."

Mav grinned and shrugged, patting Bradley's back as he stood, "I'm not, but in my experience, the universe always has a plan." He began to walk away but paused, "Why don't you help me fix up a plane I've been working on this weekend? Keep ya busy."

Bradley slowly began to nod, "Sure, we can do that."

Maverick smiled, giving him another pat before walking away. Bradley noticed Penny hadn't been around the bar in a while, and it dawned on him that Mav may have been there waiting for someone to show up too.

He shook his head and chugged the rest of his beer, checking his watch again, 10.59. He sighed, standing up and leaving the bar, strolling towards his bronco, ready to head home and sleep off his sadness. When he looked up to see his car in the distance, he noticed something.

Someone was leaning against the passenger door.

His footsteps quickened and once he was a few steps away he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

There you were, effortlessly beautiful in jeans and white t-shirt, hair down and moving with the breeze, and your eyes were on him. Exactly the way Bradley knew it should be.

As he got closer he grinned, "You're late."

You smiled and took a few steps towards him, "Shut up and kiss me Bradley."

You could deny it all you wanted but realistically, you knew. As soon as you saw him at your doorstep, hell, from the night you'd seen him at the Hard Deck, he had you. So, even if it wasn't the smart thing to do, or maybe it was, you didn't care. Bradley reached forward and grabbed your waist, his lips quickly finding yours as your hands made their way up to his hair. The kiss was gentle yet passionate, full of words that neither of you had the guts to say over the years you'd been apart. It was right then, as he kissed you against the backdrop of the sea, that you knew you'd done the right thing.

It almost felt like you were both young again, because nothing had changed. Not really.

When you both pulled away for air, he rested his forehead against yours. Of course there were conversations you both needed to have with each other, things to work out, but for now that could wait.

"I love you. So much." Bradley muttered against your lips.

You knew any important conversations didn't matter, because you'd both chosen each other and right now, that was enough.

"I love you too, Bradley."

---

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I might do an epilogue for these two but I'm not sure yet - let me know if its something you'd wanna read!

[skellymom]

Also dropping this here from the reblog comment section of the above post as it gets at what I was trying to say in MY post. Credit to @first-light-of-the-library for the post and doing all the research!

Okay, so I did some looking into the age of clones (earth science) because it's important for Boba (since he's a prime clone).

One of the reasons (sans the ethics of cloning) that nobody does cloning is that the clone has the genetic age of the host.

What does that mean? Well, when we are born our DNA is fresh and brand new. As we grow and age, our DNA is exposed to all sorts of shit. This degraded our DNA. So if I were to clone a person at 75, their clone (though born an infant) will have the DNA of a 75 yr old person. This is why Dolly the Sheep died "young" for a sheep. Because her DNA was the age of the host.

So what does this mean for Boba? And the other clones? Well, our Earth scientists have been able to figure out how to get the clone DNA to basically not do this. So what about Kaminaon?

Jango was 34-38 when he accepted the contract and had the first of his tissue harvested (probably bone marrow for the best genetic samples. Ordo said they're somatic clones, so basically everything other than sperm). That means his DNA has the degradation typical of a human living a hard life for 40 years.

That means that Boba (especially) and the other clones at the moment of their birth, have that same DNA. The same degradation. Despite being born "new".

In Legends, Boba as an adult faced a slew of health problems because of this. By the time he was 40, his DNA was technically 160. His body was breaking down. Because he compounded the genetic degradation with his own hard life. Hence he needed the deaging gene therapy.

In current canon, Boba seems to have no ill effects from being cloned from a 40 yr old man. (Though if they make a BOBF season 2 it would be an interesting idea to explore, just saying). So what does that mean?

Meta: the creators are gonna ignore this facet of cloning. Duh.

In universe: the current canon supports the hypothesis that the Kaminoans had figured out a way to rewind the DNA to a new born state. Meaning that in current canon, if this hypothesis is true, that when Boba was decanted, while he was genetically identical to Jango, his DNA DID NOT HAVE the life long degradation that his father's DNA does. This also means, if this hypothesis is true, that the clone troopers' DNA was also reset. But due to their accelerated aging and the constant battle stress from three years, they had mutations and degradation of their DNA.

WHEN THEY WERE SHINIES:

To the best of my knowledge our Clone Men are biologically 13 years old but were supposed to present as 26 year old's - all due to the Kaminoan accelerated aging.

However...photo on the left I feel our sweet Mensies look approximately in the late rough and worn 30's to well aged 50's. Photo on the right looks like they would have been in their 20's.

Or am I just totally off?

Enjoy the eye pleasing clone menagerie and PLEASE comment on how these photos have you FEEL! Who is your favorite?

(Note: I'm personally a Hunter whore. But the photo of Gregor just does things...like his eyes are flirting with your soul! lol!!!)

(My apologies for not adding this initially: Pinterest credit to H)

[pangolin-404]

The Don Thacker QnA

Continuation of this post; tldr: I emailed Don Thacker and he was kind enough to answer some questions about Jazzpunk's live action trailers. :) everyone say thank you don thacker

This includes his words about working with Necrophone Games, the production of Project Pigeon and Project Switchhook, and their scripts. Here's the full thing (it's quite long!):

How did you start working with Necrophone Games, and what was it like? Did you work more with Luis Hernandez or Jess Brouse more?

Jazzpunk was originally brought to Imagos through Adult Swim Games. We had done several live action spots for ASG and I think the Necrophone Games guys may have seen something they liked? Most publishers we work with regularly basically lay out a marketing strategy and we're on the menu. "Do you want something from these guys," kind of thing.

At the time, we were an agency of record for ASG, and they put us together. To ASG's credit, they mostly stepped out of it once NG and Imagos were working together, though. It was an incredibly cool deal from them.

All of our work with ASG was like that; they would come to us with a project or a nugget of an idea and say, "go wild!" and we would, of course, go our particular brand of wild.

The Jazzpunk IP moved away from ASG, or at least the marketing side of it did, between the first spot, "Johnny," and the the second spot, "300-1200 Baud Buyman."

To both ASG's credit and NG's credit, the process was prettuch the same both times: awesome.

Did you work with Hernandez to compose the soundtracks?

Not at all. All in-game music was done without any influence from Imagos, and Imagos commanded the entirety of the music side for live action. Obviously, NG had notes/ input, but the two worlds remained mostly separate. 

This is actually intentional most of the time that Imagos does a live action spot. We need to keep the game proper and the hyper-splatter of crazy images in the marketing close enough to be causally related, but distant enough to neither give away the experience you would get from playing a game or try to express in 90 seconds what a game takes 90hrs to say.

How much free reign did you have over the creative direction? 

This is an awesome question for this project in particular. NG was the most hands-off absolute dictatorship we have ever worked with IN THE VERY BEST POSSIBLE WAY.

Essentially, they hit us with a hundred thousand little details and asked us to go ham and cheese on them. They were open to almost every one of my wild pitches, but the details were fine tuned by them to an incredible degree.

Imagos's process, when asked to pitch a story for a spot, is to put together a deck of several ideas that we feel would best serve the project and present them as a menu from which a client can choose ideas from; even mix and match elements from all of the presented ides (which happens). We do this to limit the infinity of choice. It helps with clients who don't know exactly what they want, but know things they DO want, and know very clearly what they don't want.

The NG pitch wasn't like this at all. I had a few lightning strikes and we hopped onto a video conference and I just ranted a bunch at them about my weird concepts and they rolled with them almost immediately. It was in the details that they really pushed hard to make sure what we were doing was going to live in the world of Jazzpunk. 

Looking into our archives, I see the notes we came up with during those meetings. Here they are, pasted:

Pitch 1

Noir detective enters office/closet

Pulls out briefcase

Gun, parabolic mic, bluebox

Banana, lobster, blender, ping pong ball

Dumps a pile of cardboard hands

"I'll be there in 10 minutes."

Pitch 2

Keanu reeves enters facility

"I've got to check my email"

puts on helmet, gloves, puts bit into his mouth

"hit me"

seizure

cut into: checking email, facebook, etc

Pitch 3

[Look Around You - but 1960s]

1960s style educational video

"the computer, invented in 1932 by James Bromely--"

"robots are used in many homes for--"

As you can see, we used a lot of bits from those. As I've said, this is 0% how we usually ptch. Usually there's a whole proposal with notes on tones and imagery and stuff.

Do you still have the storyboards? 

We didn't board Johnny - we listed. The time and money didn't really allow for it.

I worked with the same Cinematographer on both Johnny and 300/1200 Baud Buyman, one with whom I had collaborated on several commercial projects as well as a feature film before this point, so we had a bit of a shorthand going. We made shotlists and went into the day with a clear vision once we saw the set.

The set took seven days from concept to film ready. It was built in front of a greenscreen cyclorama, so the outer windows could show through to the city, TOKYO DUO. It was an incredible endeavor from a production designer I had worked with on some other ASG spots (and more), and it benefited heavily from his understanding of the Imagos look. It was entirely built, with wild walls (we could move any wall at any point) and an incredible level of set dec.

Once the DP and I stepped in, we knew the lists would work and we just went wild.

For 300/1200 Baud Buyman, we used a practical location (the interior of a grocery store) and boarded some of the action for clarity. Not as much as we'd board normally, but, again, the budgets for both of those spots was limited, and the timelines so short, that boards were a luxury we didn't get to play with widely.

Here is a set from 300/1200 Baud Buyman:

Was there anything planned that didn't make the final cut?

For Johnny, only one beat; a comedy beat where the agent gets all geared up to CYBERJACK INTO THE NETRIX and then we hit a cold drop. He's forgotten to push the button. Then he pushes the button and it's ON LIKE TRON.

I think we cut this beat as redundant. Once we got to filming, it felt a lot like cyberjacking into the netrix was going to be enough. Watching him unwrap the thing and follow all but one instruction felt like it might be dead space. 

That, or we just ran out of time. That's always an option in production.

Otherwise, it was all 1:1 the script.

For 300/1200 Baud Buyman, nope. Nothing. We shot what we wrote :) Well, we didn't do the tongue quarter gag.

Interesting note for 300/1200 Baud Buyman: The split-screen section, with The Director talking to the Cashier in one frame, was entirely a practical, in-camera effect!

What happened to the props and spoof items used? 

For Johnny:

The CRANIAL REFRACTION HELMET was destroyed. Several of the parts that made it into that beast were either rental bits or owned by one of the crew/creatives. The rest was auto butyl and bits of rubber and piping and stuff.

The set was struck and, as with the helmet, the bits went to their respective owners or the trash. Even the wall flats.

The stuff in the attache' case:

The prop pistol was returned to the armorer.

The POLYBLANK POINTING HANDS hands 

The parabolic microphone lives in a storage unit with select props from other projects.

Sadly, the pigeon is likely dead. It was a well taken care of racing bird, fully trained and treated like royalty, but they don't live very long and it's been more than a decade :/

The 2600htz whistle was kindly donated to the project by an unnamed source whose possession of it I will neither confirm nor deny. If you wonder what this means, look up 2600hz cap'n crunch whistle on the intertron.

We're especially curious about the fate of the Director prop(s).

For 300/1200 Baud Buyman, The Director was made out of foam board, and, unfortunately, didn't survive the transition into present time.

The rest of the set dress and props are, as well, all disposed of. Except for a giant cereal box front, that lives in storage.

I'm also curious about any remnants of old PAX East 2014 props and merchandise, but that might've been more in Necrophone Games' hands than Imagos Films'.

All of that is with NG. The only thing we had to do with their presence at PAX was a few pictures of us stopping by their booth and bumming around with them.

The 2014 trailer is called Project Pigeon in the Flickr album documenting the set. In the 2016 trailer's behind-the-scenes video, the composer Ryan Ike refers to it as Project Switchhook. Who named them and how were the names chosen? 

Imagos has a tiered naming structure for commercial projects:

CLIENT  -> PRODUCT -> PROJECT -> TITLE

CLIENT = Client (obviously) PRODUCT = Thing the spot is about PROJECT = The specific spot. We may do several spots for one product, so this is how we differentiate. TITLE = The actual spot title.

For the FIRST Jazzpunk spot, the breakdown is like this:

CLIENT = Adult Swim Games / Necrophone Games PRODUCT = Jazzpunk PROJECT = #projectpigeon TITLE = Johnny

For the SECOND Jazzpunk spot:

CLIENT = Necrophone Games PRODUCT = Jazzpunk PROJECT = #projectswitchhook TITLE = 300/1200 Baud Buyman

Who named them and how were the names chosen? 

Anything you see with a "#project" prefix is the PROJECT name. These project names tend to be silly or abstract. This is mostly because some of our projects need to be secret as we shoot them.

I write all of our work, and, as such, name the projects. Much to the confusion and frustration of my business partners :)

In the 2016 trailer's behind-the-scenes video, the composer Ryan Ike refers to it as Project Switchhook. 

A switchhook is an old phone term. It was a physical switch set into a hook for hanging your receiver on. It was an analogue electrical circuit, and could be manipulated by phone phreaks to, you know, DO TEH HACKINGZ. 

Similarly, where did the other title for the 2016 trailer, "300-1200 Baud Buyman," come from?

A baud rate is the rate at which a modem transfers data. Analogue modems used to use these baud rates as indicators of speed or bandwidth, in marketing, much as modern broadband connections use megabit or gigabit ratings.

Without getting too technical, analogue modems transfer data as 1s and 0s by flipping signal frequencies to represent state changes. This is the dumbest way to say this, but a baud rate of 300 means that 300 signal changes can take place per second of connected time. 1200 baud is 1200 signal changes per second.

A top of the line phone modem in the late 80s/early 90s could band between 300 and 1200 baud. Kingmakers and 1337 h4x0rz might have been able to convince their parents to get into a 1440 baud modem. If they were lucky.

This is all pre-millenium phone phreak/hacker stuff. I was exactly the right age, in exactly the right place to have been swept up into all of that as my form of teenage rebellion.

The Jazzpunk world is a cyberpunk inspired pre-digital hackerverse, and I grew up in the height of that, and leaned on those things for the scripts.

The Director is jumping though time, buying goods at a low price and selling them at a high price in the future. In the spot's narrative, that's how the entire endeavor is being funded. He is, however, causing massive inflation in the process.

And he's using a 300/1200 baud modem to transfer himself back into the past, because that is the technology that existed.

#projectpigeon is named such because the pigeon. In the spot. The spot has a pigeon in it.

The 2016 trailer's IMDB page lists someone named Chris Morson as the voice actor for the Director. Is this true? Additionally, do you happen to know who voiced the Editor in the game, or any other voice actors?

Chris is an INCREDIBLE actor. I've worked with him several times, and every one of them has been incredible. Yes, he plays the voice of The Director in the spot, but has nothing to do with the game. 

As well, I also have/had nothing to do with the VO in the game. A shame, because I would be super proud if I had!

Did you/Imagos Films make anything else for Jazzpunk?

Unfortunately, no. I would love to, of course. That series of spots is truly a wonderful time.

I have attached the script for both Johnny and 300/1200 Baud Buyman as a little gift. Enjoy.

[kaytheday]

The Weight of the Eldest Brother

Hello! This is my submission for Day 4 of @outsidersweek

This submission is pretty long. I know that today has been a difficult day for everyone (which is probably why this fic is so long 😭), if anyone needs someone to talk to or vent to, just PM me! I am here for anyone who needs it. More under the cut!

On the rare occasions that Darry Curtis Jr. got nervous, he would feel irritable. Sweating incessantly as his fuse was cut short. He knew that a nervous Ponyboy would start shaking, going pale and sometimes even throwing up. Ponyboy had confessed that the few track meets that college scouts had stopped by to watch, he’d been so nervous he’d thrown up. Soda would turn into a firecracker, unpredictable and unable to concentrate, sleep, or even sit still for more than a few seconds. His restlessness would only grow as the nerves ate at him. 

Now, Darry sat completely still on that hospital bench. He was sweating and staring at the floor and feeling like he might throw up. He was nervous. That’s what he assumed this feeling was anyway.

This felt worse than the time with his parents. Somehow, this was ten thousand times worse. He didn’t know what he would do if-

“Mr. Curtis?” He turned to find the coroner looking at him expectantly. “Are you ready to go down?” 

Soda had been missing for upwards of three days. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear for small stretches of time, it wasn’t like he lived at home anyway. But he usually found Ponyboy or Steve and went to hunt down some action. Neither of them had seen him since the fight. 

Darry and him had gotten into a terrible fight. The kind of fight that no longer becomes about what you were first fighting about, instead becoming a contest of who can say the nastiest thing. 

So Soda had stormed out. 

And Darry doesn’t even remember what it is that he said. He said a lot of terrible things that night, any one of them could have been the reason Soda stormed out. But he doesn’t remember. And now it might be the last thing he ever said to his brother. And he doesn’t even remember it. What an asshole. 

There in the hospital's ground floor, Darry just gulps and gives the Coroner a nod. Standing on shaky legs and following him to the hospital morgue… the same one where his brother might be lying. 

“Are you feeling alright Mr. Curtis?” Darry jumps a little, of course he’s not feeling alright. The last time he was here it was to identify two different members of the Curtis family.

It seemed like a lifetime ago but he still remembers it like it was yesterday. Their bodies were still fresh from the crash. Mottled and bloody but despite the disfiguration, Darry knew it was them. It just reminded him of something that his Momma used to say to him when he was little and wanted to help hold Ponyboy. 

“How come he only stops crying when you hold him?”

“Ponyboy loves you very much but sometimes babies just want their momma. A baby will always know his momma.” 

His mothers words certainly rang true on that terrible night. Even in death his mother was very beautiful. She would have been glad that her baby boy always knew his momma… even in death. 

He’d hoped that would be the last time he would ever receive a call from the coroner's office.

Luckily, it was his day off and even more luckily, he was the only one home. 

“Hello Mr. Curtis, this is Jeff Alberts. I am a chief coroner with St. Francis hospital, I may have some very bad news regarding your brother…” That was all Darry heard before his world shattered into a million pieces. 

Somehow this was worse. He thought the universe would have cut them a break by now, but this was worse. This was worse than his parents, worse than Johnny and Dally, worse than that damned draft letter that started this whole mess in the first place. 

“I feel fine.” Darry told the coroner. “Just a little lightheaded.” He doesn't know what it was in him that told the coroner that. Probably the fact that this coroner seemed like a real adult and Darry felt like the same scared little kid that had to identify their parents' disfigured bodies with his little brothers at home. Darry was still that same scared kid that stepped up to raise his two little brothers all while simultaneously messing things up even more. 

He didn’t have time to think about Ponyboy right now. He couldn’t imagine what Ponyboy would do if the body he found in the morgue was-

“I know these situations are very difficult, do you need to sit down for a minute? I can grab you some water if you’d like.” 

“No, I’m okay.” 

“Okay.” They went down a few more stairs. “The man we received in the morgue came in with a stab wound among other lacerations…” With each word Darry felt himself getting sicker. He needed to throw up or punch something or maybe both. “...also found various evidence that he may have been on drugs or with someone who was using.” Then the coroner launched into an explanation of the man’s physical description, a lot of which matched Soda exactly. 

Stay standing. Darry told himself. You can’t stop now. It was the same stuff he had told himself the first time he had come here. It was awful when his parents were killed. Darry had felt worse than he’d ever felt before. Beyond terrible, Ponyboy had been throwing up because of how hard he was crying and Sodapop looked about ready to combust at the way he was moving. But Darry was the one that couldn’t stop, the one that had to pull them together, take charge, and make sure everything was okay. Nobody else was going to do it. 

“Are you ready to go in Mr. Curtis?” Darry took a deep breath, steeling himself for the worst. He could say no, he could tell the coroner that he needed a minute. But it was better that he just do it now. It was better that he just went in immediately. Afterwards he would need to call Ponyboy and tell him that it was Sod-

“Do you need another minute son?” Darry couldn’t breathe. Just breathe. Just calm down. He tried to take another deep breath. “Son?” 

“Okay. Let’s go in.” 

The room smelled the same way that it had when he’d been there the first time. The body was underneath a sheet on a metal table. The table had some flecks of blood on its shiny exterior. Darry went and stood next to the body on one side. 

“I’m going to pull the sheet down now. Is it alright if I do that Mr. Curtis?” Darry bit his lip and nodded. He didn’t really have a choice, he had to know. He had to know so he could figure out a way to pull their family back together again. How would Ponyboy take this? Darry hadn’t even told him about this, Pony was at work anyway. Home from school for the summer but more importantly to see Soda after his tour  in Vietnam. Darry didn’t know what Ponyboy would do if he found out his favorite brother had been killed. Ponyboy had already lost so much. He couldn’t take losing one more. How could Darry take it?

The sheet came down. 

The relief that flooded through him was instant. It had him nearly swaying on his feet, his eyes growing hot and wet as he stared at the body that wasn’t Sodapop. 

He could understand how the coroner thought it was Sodapop, especially considering it was Soda’s wallet they found in his pocket. This guy looked nearly the same, but there were a couple clear differences. This guy's nose had been broken more than once and his hair was longer. Soda had barely had time to grow out his hair since the four months he’d been out of the army.  This guy was also missing the scar that Soda had on his neck from Two-Bit throwing a bottle at him three years ago. 

“Is this your brother, son?” 

It’s not him. It’s not Sodapop. 

“No, it's not him.” The doctor looked skeptical. 

“Are you sure? Sometimes in death our loved ones can-.” 

“I’m sure. It’s not him.” Darry interrupted. This wasn’t like the first time, with his parents. He had known immediately as soon as he’d seen their mangled faces that it was them. This was completely different. 

“Okay.” The doctor said softly, pulling the sheet back over the man's face. “You are free to go Mr. Curtis. Thank you for coming in.” Darry still had Soda’s wallet in his back pocket. He was relieved but still worried. If he wasn’t here, where was he?

Before he knew it Darry was putting a dime in the slot of the hospital payphone. 

“Hello?” Ponyboy.

“Hey kiddo.”

“Hey Darry, what’s going on?” He sounded genuinely confused and maybe a little worried. He had a right to be. Darry didn’t usually leave the house during his days off and then mysteriously call home and not say anything. 

Darry thought about telling him. He thought about telling him everything. The coroner's office, the guy who looked like Sodapop, the pit in his stomach. But he couldn’t tell Ponyboy. He shouldn’t even have to be worrying about Darry in the first place.  

“Just makin’ sure you made it home from work okay.” 

“Sure.” Pony said slowly, still confused. “You okay? Where are you calling from?” Of course the kid would pick up that something was wrong. 

“Just the gas station. I’m headed home in a minute.” 

“Okay, I’ll see you when I get home then.”

“Okay, bye Pone.” 

“Bye Darry.” And just like that the call dropped. At least he had one brother accounted for. 

Darry didn’t even really remember the drive home. He did that sometimes. His head filled with so much worry and stress that he simply went on autopilot, somehow managing to find the way home without crashing the car. Today was no different. 

He could hear the racket before he even stepped through the front door. Ponyboy and Steve were on the floor, a hand of poker set out before them and Soda… Soda?

Soda was home. The same Soda that had come back from Vietnam so different. The same Soda he had fought with and driven out of the house. The same Soda that he had driven to the hospital to identify. The same Soda that was sitting on the couch in front of him, unharmed and not dead in a hospital morgue. 

“...arry?” Ponyboy was looking at him, something like concern written in his eyes. 

“Sodapop?” He asked, completely ignoring Ponyboy for a moment. “Where you been?” 

“Around. Didn’t know if you’d want me back for a while after… that night.” He trailed off, obviously uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on him. 

“You’re always welcome here, no matter what.” Darry said in that no nonsense tone. Darry wiped his hands on his jeans. “You guys start dinner?” He asked, itching to change the subject. 

“I preheated the oven.” 

“Thanks Pone, I’ll finish it.” He felt their eyes on him as he went to the kitchen. Get a grip. He told himself. Of course Soda is fine. He began to slather the thawing chicken in sauce.  He went to get some butter out of the fridge when he nearly ran into Soda. 

“What’s this about?” He asked, running a nervous hand through his hair. 

“What’s what about?” Darry asks, taking some frozen vegetables out of the freezer. 

“You were lookin’ at me like you saw a ghost. That’s gotta be something.” 

“I’m fine, I’m just really glad you’re okay Sodapop.” Soda’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. 

“Sure, I was only gone a few days. Are you still mad about our fight?” Soda asked.

Darry thought about telling him. He really did. About telling him everything. He thought about telling him that he thought Soda was dead and he was the one to blame. He thought about telling him about the smell and even mom and dad. He thought about yelling his head off that Soda should have called, should have told Darry where he was, that he could have been killed and it would be all Darrys fault. 

After all, Darry hadn’t had anybody to tell for so long.

But he didn’t.

Over the years he had a lot of practice of knowing which things his little brothers needed to know. His little visit to the coroner's office and hospital morgue was not something either of his little brothers needed to know about. 

“No, I’m not mad about that. Not anymore little buddy. Now how about you help me with dinner, huh?” 

“Sure Dar.” Soda says easily, knocking his shoulder against Darrys. “Though we might be having blue chicken.” Darry laughs, thinking about how close he was to thinking Sodapop was dead. How he had felt like this might never happen again. Everything would be fine. Soda was alive and Darry would keep it that way if it killed him. 

[anonymusbosch]

really truly Feelings about coming back to my hometown and seeing it as an outsider (I only knew it as a child with my motion constrained by school and parents and being under 18) and an outsider (it's changed since I've been away these last 8 years) and an outsider (showing it to my partner and finding it both familiar and unfamiliar, and special and inadequate) and an outsider (my parents and sister have all moved and my childhood home is no longer mine - staying in a building with a door code to learn and furniture still being moved in) and an outsider (my favorite places have changed, moved, closed, repainted) and an outsider (new murals! new buildings! new bike lanes) and an outsider (how the Fuck do the bike lanes on the east bank connect) and an outsider (it's changed [you can never step in the same river twice] and I have too)

[eddiezpaghetti]

Okay, so my experience with Stranger Things is a weird one.

I didn't care when it first came out, started to watch it out of "might as well" in 2020, wasn't interested in it enough to make it past S2, forgot about it outside of going "oh, hey, cool, there's a lesbian in it now, I guess," in S3, got really annoyed when "Running Up That Hill" got popular from it because it was a song I listened to on fucking loop after one of my best friends died in high school and I fully expected its appearance in the show to ignore the whole survivor's guilt theme of the song (and was very happy to learn later that it did the exact opposite of ignoring the lyrics), saw people drawing Eddie, suddenly got a lot more interested, watched just the fourth season like a fucking psychopath because I was seriously only there for Eddie, then got interested enough to start the show over properly, having mostly forgotten what I did watch of the show before.

And let me tell you something from the perspective of someone who started with the complete fourth season, who wasn't there from the start, who wasn't tainted by ship goggles or this internal battle of hope and despair, who wasn't theorizing about what the painting could be or expecting Mike and Will to kiss when Volume 2 happened or rooting for Mike and Eleven's relationship to go down in flames or whatever the fuck. Just someone who went blind into Season 4.

It's really fucking obvious that Will and Mike are gonna be endgame.

Like holy fuck. It's so fucking blatant I don't even know why people are nervous.

No sane fucking person would shoot this scene this way if they wanted the audience to care about El and Mike as a couple. Despite being all blurry in the background, Will's reaction to what's happening here is smackdab in the fucking middle, clearly showing that the important part is what's going through his head here. What he's feeling. It's like the opposite of that scene from Kingdom Hearts II where Sora and Riku reunite and Kairi just fucking vanishes into the aether while it's happening because, despite the fact that she was standing between them when the scene began, she doesn't matter to the scene, so she's just kind of gone when the camera angle changes. Will could have been behind one of their heads, or so far in the distance he blends in with the background, but he's not. He's so obvious that despite being massively blurred out, he's still the first goddamn thing you look at. What, you think that's an accident? You think he's in the middle of this dramatic fucking scene because of a mistake? He basically has a big flashing neon arrow pointing at him with "THIS IS THE POINT" being screamed through a megaphone.

And then this?

They're paired up like they're taking fucking prom pictures. Each one of these pairs is so fucking close to one another and so fucking far from everyone else. It's not, "Oh, they're standing vaguely near each other in a group shot," it's fucking Noah's Ark out here. Again, there's no way to take this as an accident. It's not just a framing issue. If they wanted to make the shot look balanced while still not hiding anyone else behind El, they would have scattered people around much more naturally. Even if they wanted to keep Nancy with Jonathan and Hopper with Joyce, there's so much room on that hill for three people to stand on El's left and three on her right. But they didn't do that. They put Mike and Will together on purpose in the most obvious way possible.

Like I get that coming up with crackpot theories is fun in and of itself and I'm not blaming anyone for having fun. I totally get the appeal of arguing a point and reaching for every stupid little thing to pull into it because it's like a game, okay? I've done that. But if you're trying to actually convince someone (whether it's someone who wants to believe or someone who's pissed at the very idea that Mike and Will could be in love), stay away from blue and yellow lights, stay away from costume design, stay away from the existence of closets in backgrounds. And don't worry about whether Mike's gay or bi when he's in love with Will either way. I'll give you a little tip about persuasion: You're only as strong as your weakest argument. Even if you've got strong stuff in there, too, the person you're trying to convince is going to dismiss anything you say as complete insanity the second you start going on an entire tangent about the shape of a character's fucking pocket.

Sometimes, clothes are just clothes. Sometimes, there's a closet in the background because it helps establish that a character is in a bedroom. Sometimes, blue and yellow are just a couple of colors that look nice together. And sure, it might be set designers and costume designers and cinematographers smirking and winking at the audience from behind the camera. But if the show was just those things, instead of those things in the context of everything else, they wouldn't be saying anything of note.

But this?

This tells a story all on its own. Someone with no context can look at this and automatically assume that each paired person is standing with someone they care about deeply, seeking comfort as they watch some sort of disaster unfold. And yeah, romantic couples usually come in twos, and we live in an amatonormative society, so that's going to be the first association anyone makes seeing a bunch of people paired off.

It's the same reason you look at this

And go, "Oh..."

"Those two are probably a couple."

And I genuinely don't understand how people could have watched S4 Vol. 2 and gotten scared. Because as someone who went in with no investment whatsoever, I just looked at these two--

--and went, "Oh, those two are a couple. Good for them." And I moved on. Shut up about the trees for five seconds and just see the forest for what it is.

Oh, and if you're still nervous? Little thing from a storyteller here: You don't leave a hanging thread like "Will confessed his romantic feelings for Mike by projecting them onto El, but Mike either didn't understand or at least didn't say he understood," without coming back to that later. That's Chekov's gun hanging on the wall, babes. It's gonna fire at some point. If Mike was going to reject Will's feelings, if they weren't relevant, they would have had that discussion in Argyle's van. There'd be no reason to leave you in suspense.

[somecunttookmyurl]

all the while society conflates "being an adult" with "having a proper job" and "having money to make arbitrary Adult Purchases" disabled people who can't work - or can only work part time or can only do entry level baby jobs - will never be 'allowed' to be adults

you can say "being an adult is looking after yourself you don't have to have a job!!!" all you want but most people who say that will still assume anybody who doesn't either can't or won't 'look after themselves' actually. and every 'marker' of 'adulthood' that's observable and thus actually counts or whatever loops back around to... having a job and 'contributing' something

[triglycercule]

alright i finished this so i need to celebrate my accomplishment (???) by sharing it to the world

BETTER versions of my trio designs. because boo boo the other old ones were BORING and TOO SIMPLE and lowhighkey UGLY. i had no idea what i was thinking when i made this but i guess design notes before to see if i can figure out what the fuck these mean 💀

killer🔪:3

he got a GLOW UP!!! when i was figuring him out i was thinking like. this man needs to look combat ready he CANNOT look chill and relaxed he MUST look good to fight. killer can't catch a break 💀 anyways. it's ALSO not revealing (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎) because i feel he would NOT wear that stuff cmon flirty =/= revealing. his charms are found through his words and actions (stabbing someone through the heart) (speaking of the heart i couldn't be bothered to draw his soul mb)

the gloves/shirt/leggings under his clothes may LOOK seperate. but its actually all one big piece!!! because i thought it would be silly and funny :3 but like on a serious note i like this because it provides an extra layer of protection (both in a fight and not) and like. a sense of anonymity i guess??? like you can't see killer's natural body you cant SEE who he was before because hes changed that much (or i guess HE cant see who he was b4 wtvr)

actually a lot of killer's outfit has meaning behind it. knee pads = unnatural body imitation killer is a whole new being now not monster (also adding 2 the combat look :3) belts = restraint killer needs to stay in line and do as he's ordered (i needed some visual interest 💀) zippers on shoes?? actually no meaning i just thought it would be cute. somehow i managed to find meanings 4 all of the trio's zippers. killer's is jammed in that spot. show like idk he is irreversibly changed to what he is now (a lot of this makes no sense)

horror 🪓 :3

if you remove all the rips in the clothes he'd be the most basic out of all of them. but theyre there so he's NOT the most basic! 4 horror i was thinking like "you can see he's fucked up but you can also see he's desperately trying to keep it together" type feel. i totally didnt steal those under socket lines (thank you mania and paranoia for donating to your og versions :3) to make horror look more 🌀🌀🌀 (cannot describe it)

the cloak was stolen from undyne trust. he wears it as a power move FUCK YOU!!! to her :3 also it looks royal and regal which could kinda show like horror's power and sway over snowdin. he's DEFINITELY not a king but he is a provider and a lot of what he says goes around those parts. a lot of ppl look to him as like world's shittiest leader(ish). also i just wanted him to have something unique!

underneath horror's jacket his shirt is reaaaally torn he should probably replace it. there are some holes from when he was pinned down with spears during the core incident and then the whole lower half is just totally torn off from that one comic 💀 but thats why the jacket is zipped up! however the zipper broke and now the jacket can't unzip! (because horror struggles with the fact that horrortale ISNT gonna be perpetually shitty (everyone say thanks aliza) and would rather nobody see him vulnerable)

dust🧣:3

i didn't change much about him lowkey he's pretty much wearing the same CLOTHES. just that the style and way he's wearing them changed. wanted him to give like,,,,, comfy (because bro did not change out of his sansish clothes) but also like FOCUSED o(≧口≦)o like horror he has the under socket line but thats just to make him look more stressed and tired

i moved around the scarf to NOT be around his neck bc it was sooo annoying drawing the hood and then having to account for the scarf. it kind gave him a baby face vibe which i did NOT like. also i think dust would wear the scarf however. very versatile as long as the scarf remains intact. so it COULD go around waist COULD be around neck COULD be around limbs

i didn't mean to do this but the black thingy around his shoulders (was originally there just to fill in the empty space without the scarf there 💀) could be seen as like mourning wear. again with the silly zipper symbolism but dust's zipper is fine its not broken like horror or killer's are because he chose to go down this path. dust CHOSE to zip it up and now its too late to go back now (so bro MUST power through ‼️‼️ he cant unzip the zipper now!!!!)

overall i like these. usually i like coming up with cool unique character designs its so fun but my trio was hard (im hard). probably bc i didnt wanna make then wear anything too weird Dx BUT NOW AT LEAST THEY ALL LOOK LESS BABY!!!! i think i depicted how i see them though like ughhh cannot explain but now they look like how i want them to sound

[quietwingsinthesky]

i do love canon amy & rory but god, does some part of me wish they really had gone with the idea of the doctor picking up a child as a companion (and then later, that child’s best friend with a huge crush on her.) with the rest of the season really not changing at all, except now it’s amelia pond with an angel in her head killing her and lost alone in the woods. it’s little rory who dies and is forgotten and becomes a toy soldier. if this is going to be a fairy tale, then let it be one. children have never been safe in fairy tales.

[rapidhighway]

Hnngg

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

I am the happiest person on earth right now because I just went out with a friend to grab a late lunch and it was just supposed to be a quick casual catch up thing that turned into a 4 hour conversation in the car about things that happened to us almost a decade ago 🥲

[silent-moons-camp]

I love space SO much. And it absolutely terrifies me too. If I wasn't terrified of space, and I was good at math, I'd be working at NASA. But even then I won't ever get to explore the galaxy in my lifetime, because we are nowhere near travel that equals the speed of light, and even then, lightspeed is still painfully slow on the cosmic scale.

Did you know that, no matter where we are in humanity, our sun will begin to die billions of years from now? We may all be dead and gone, or we may have evolved into something unrecognizable, or we may still be around. But one day, the Earth will be engulfed by the sun. Or it'll be thrown out of orbit. It'll be the end for Earth. We may have figured out how to go beyond the speed of light by then. We could have discovered that the Einstein-Rosen Bridge theory - wormholes - is real, and we could have used that to bend spacetime to our will and find somewhere new to call home, potentially even new universes.

But we don't know. Earth will likely become uninhabitable before the natural lifespan of our sun can engulf it, as a result of our very human mistakes and actions and impacts.

And... this is just a longwinded way of me saying, that's what Starfield is about.

It's about being human in the face of the divine, in the face of being so so so small in the universe. It's about conflict, the tragedy of it, how it can so easily destroy our humanity before time itself has the chance to. It's about looking at the petty wars between the UC and the Collective and going, "what are they doing? There is plenty of space for us all. This is only our galaxy, what about beyond?" It's about humanity pushing forward for answers about the universe and how they will always resort to the same petty violence over those answers. It's about how you can decide what you do with those answers. It's about looking in the eye of sure destruction that will certainly come one day, and say, "I will live and love in spite of it."

You can certainly become like the Hunter. You can continuously perpetuate the cycle of very human violence because that is all that is left to you, because you have embraced the uselessness of it all. Or you can become like the Pilgrim. You can settle down and bring love and kindness to others, and bring them knowledge, despite the fact that everything is pointless.

We are just starstuff. We come from the stars, and back to the stars we will eventually go, one way or another. And it's up to you to decide if you will embrace that as the only meaning in the universe, or if you will reject the simplicity of that, and embrace humanity, embrace love, embrace compassion, embrace meaning in spite of it all.

That is what Starfield is about. That's what it is about to me. And I love it.

[jakeperalta]

spent weeks psyching myself up to stand up to my mum and then immediately got shot down by her 😃👍

[thediktatortot]

.