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tardis-stowaway · 5 years ago

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Ten years after the Not-pocalypse, Adam Young, age 21 and recently graduated from university:

-Works in a crappy retail job and lives in a tiny, crappy flat in London

-The crappy flat has no sound insulation, so he’s always hearing the absurd amount of movement from the people in the flat above and the really loud but not quite intelligible conversations from the people in the flat next door. It’s a long way to the nearest public park, and he misses the green of home.

-Is not all that good at his customer service job, with the exception that if a customer is irrationally angry about something, he says he wants to make sure he understands the problem and repeats their complaint back to them with this look in his eyes, and they universally back down and often apologize. His coworkers love him for it. Everything else is just drudgery.

-Single, despite his best efforts. Okay, maybe not his best efforts, but some efforts.

-Knows that his childhood was uncommonly idyllic at least partly due to his powers. He’s not entirely sure how his life went quite so off the rails lately.

-Maybe his powers have faded gradually since he rejected his destiny, or maybe it’s just that on some level he absorbed the expectation that being in one’s early 20’s means being broke and a little lost, and the expectation made it happen whether he wanted it or not.

-Or maybe he just should’ve chosen a more employable course of study at uni instead of comparative religion. In his defense, it seemed relevant to his life.

-Spends much of his free time on climate crisis activism. He’ll be damned (ha) if he stood against the forces of Heaven and Hell, the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, and his own birthright to preserve the continuing existence of humanity on the Earth only for humans to blunder into destroying themselves unintentionally through greed and shortsighted decisions.

-He’s been doing this since he was twelve, when Brian sent the Them’s group text an article about the group Extinction Rebellion with the caption “named for us?? :)” Adam had laughed, then actually read the article. Within a week he’d convinced the Them and a dozen of their classmates to show up at the next town council meeting with a list of sustainability demands.

-No matter how many civil disobedience events he takes part in, he never seems to get arrested. Adam suspects it’s his supernatural entity privilege. Pepper says it’s probably mostly that he’s white and great at charming his way out of trouble.

-He’s still friends with all of the Them, but they don’t live especially close together. He does have a flatmate, an American who Adam met at uni.

-At this point you, a genre-savvy reader of much Good Omens fic and meta, are probably seeing the word “American” and thinking that Adam is flatmates with Warlock Dowling. For once, you are wrong.

-Adam’s flatmate is Jesus.

-Not Jesus Christ, but a young man named Jesus Dominguez, pronounced the Spanish way (like hay-soos).

-Jesus is from Southern California, and he talks more than a little bit like a surfer stereotype. He’s got warm brown skin, shoulder-length dark hair in perpetually-mussed waves, and a little beard. He’s kinda leaning into the look to mess with people, but it’s also the same style found on at least a third of the other male-presenting hipsters in London.

-When he learned that he was going to share a flat with someone named Jesus, Adam called Crowley and Aziraphale. He’s never been gladder that he stayed in touch with them, because he NEEDED someone who understood how the Antichrist and Jesus sharing a flat sounded like the setup for a joke or a sitcom. Crowley did indeed laugh out loud, then told Adam that as a fellow lapsed member of the forces of Hell, he could personally recommend sharing quarters with a heavenly adversary. Aziraphale just muttered “oh, stop” at Crowley.

-Adam moved to London because it was easier to get to the important protests there, and because he was curious. He spent the first six months desperately homesick for Tadfield. The city was so crowded but somehow he still felt so alone, other than Jesus.

-Then a midnight fire-alarm in their building sent him and Jesus into the streets along with dozens of their neighbors. Adam finally met the people in the flat above theirs who made all that moving around noise. They were an older couple who took ballroom dancing lessons at the senior center and liked to practice at home. Mrs. Kapoor tried to teach Adam how to foxtrot right there on the pavement in the middle of the night. He stepped on her feet, but since he was in bare feet and she’d actually taken the time to find shoes it wasn’t a big deal.

-Meanwhile Jesus was finally talking to the loud young men from next door. By the time Adam wandered over, Jesus had learned their names (Leon, Seamus, and Nazim) and secured an invitation for the two of them to come over to watch Saturday’s football match, and to join their next D&D campaign (“just no more paladins,” said Nazim). Adam looked forward to finding out whether it was the D&D or the football that was the cause of more yelling.

-As the evacuation stretched on with no hint of either actual fire or clearance to go back inside, the building’s children began to get fussy. Adam found a coin on the ground (successfully picking it up, because Crowley didn’t make it to this neighborhood very often) and proceeded to distract them with stage magic.

-He initially learned stage magic from Aziraphale, but he’s better at it than the angel ever was. He hardly cheats physical reality at all. The kids love it.

-When the fire department finally gives them the clearance to go back inside, Adam’s stomach rumbles. “Is anyone else hungry?,” he asks, to a chorus of agreement. It’s too late for any nearby takeout, but Jesus chats with their neighbors about options.

-Jesus enlists Adam’s help in going from flat to flat gathering ingredients from everyone, and before long they’re serving fish tacos and grilled cheese sandwiches to a small crowd of pajama-clad people. It’s 2 am, but everyone is smiling, or at least has contentment at the edge of their yawns.

-The next day, Mrs. Kapoor brings Adam and Jesus a spider plant cutting, because she thought their flat looked too bare. Adam texts a picture of it to Crowley and receives back lengthy instructions on watering, pot size, soil, and the most effective threats for the species.

-Five months later, the local planning council has an intense debate about why crime rates in one neighborhood have dropped by 75% since their last meeting. They each try to claim credit for their pet civic projects. Actually, it’s because Adam Young has started to love London, or at least his nook of it.

-Buskers soon realize that certain tube stops are generating far more tips than they ever have before, with no obvious demographic shift accounting for the change. The common ground is that these are the stops on Adam’s commutes to work and his activist meetings. He can only occasionally spare a tip himself, but his enjoyment of the music is contagious.

-Even after the breakthrough, not every day is good. On a late summer day that just happens to be the anniversary of the day the world didn’t end, Adam comes home from a protest fuming.

-“Dude, you okay?” asks Jesus, looking up from his guitar. (Jesus sometimes goes to protests with Adam, but not usually the ones where they’re planning on breaking laws. “I’m a brown-skinned foreigner, man. Do you think I’ll get away with what you get away with? I’m not ready for that yet,” he says, and Adam can’t argue.)

-“The media barely showed up at our event, probably because it was about a million degrees and even though that’s exactly what we’re protesting, nobody wants to be out in it. Six of our people passed out from the heat and three got arrested. They still didn’t arrest me, but I got pushed over and cracked my phone screen. On my way home, some drunk on the tube vomited on my shoes. Our green jobs bill still doesn’t have the votes in Parliament, and have you seen the latest news on the Antarctic ice sheets?” Adam kicks off his shoes, then collapses dramatically onto the futon and groans.

-“Sounds rough,” says Jesus.

-“I should’ve just ended the damn world when I was eleven and I had the chance. Would’ve been quicker,” Adam mutters.

-Jesus gets up and goes to the kitchen. He brings Adam a beer. “You don’t mean that, bro,” he says.

-Adam sighs, accepting the beer. “I suppose not.”

-He drinks his beer. Dog, now grey-muzzled and slow, shuffles over to curl up at his feet. Adam pulls out his phone, which is cracked but still seems functional. He’s got a text from Aziraphale.

-“Dear Adam,” the text begins, because Aziraphale might have finally deigned to learn to text but he steadfastly refused to adopt its stylistic conventions, “I hope that you have returned safely from today’s protest. I’m very proud of your continuing efforts, and though he won’t admit it I know that Crowley feels the same. Please write back at your earliest convenience. Fondly, Aziraphale”

-Adam texts back to reassure the angel, who will doubtless pass it on to Crowley, then he texts similar reassurances to his parents and to Mrs. Kapoor upstairs. He’s still figuring out this adulthood thing, but he’s got a lot of parental figures looking out for him. His Infernal Bio-Dad isn’t one of them, and that’s the way Adam likes it.

-Through the open window comes the sound of music blasting from a car stuck in traffic below. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie are singing:

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

-He turned down the chance to rule the world, and he’d make the same choice again, but he still feels a certain proprietary responsibility towards the planet and its inhabitants. His father—his real, earthly father—didn’t raise him to shirk responsibility, and he’s not one to cave under pressure.

-Life is hard, people are mostly idiots, and the world is coming apart at the seams, but it’s his messed up life and his idiotic people and his beautiful, half-broken world.

#good omens #adam young #good omens headcanons #fanfic #post-canon #please excuse any errors and americanisms #long post #tardis-stowaway's writing & stuff

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theheroheart · 4 years ago

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New Years Meme 2020

@arqueete: “This survey is a meme that has been passed around among my friends since back in LJ days. If you want to join in, please consider yourself tagged.”

I used to journal more, and stuff like this is really nice to look back on, because I have terrible memory for life stuff or the passage of time. So here, for future me.

1. What did you do in 2020 that you’d never done before? Uhhhh wear a mask to the grocery store? This was not a groundbreaking year for new experiences.

2. Did you keep your New Years’ resolutions and will you make more for next year? I didn't have any. I don't make any. I mean, sometimes I make them in the vague "I want to focus on this in the future", but I'll already have forgotten by March, like I don't really PLAN my life in such a way. I just have goals that aren't tied to specific points in time. You get there when you get there, and you choose what you want to prioritise.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? No, but my brother got married, which was very exciting because he's 40 and has never had a girlfriend who he considered important enough for me to meet. (And my sister-in-law is delightful.)

4. Did anyone close to you die? My (half-)brother's dad died a few weeks ago (cancer), but I didn't really know him, so I wouldn't say he was close to me. I did spend almost a week at my brother's place to be there for him though. And honestly, I kept thinking about how my mom's dead this year, because in a way I'm glad we didn't have to deal with this year together. She already died from respitory failure, had poor impulse control and sense of safety, and I would've been CONSTANTLY worried about her.

5. What countries did you visit? I was gonna go to Malaysia (for my brother's wedding celebration), but that didn't happen. (Flatmates were gonna go to Japan.) So. Yeah. Home country all the way.

6. What would you like to have in 2021 that you lacked in 2020? A driving force to move forward in my life?

7. What date from 2020 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? I don't think... that there is one specific day? I guess the US election? Despite me being Norwegian, it's still fairly historic.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? /stares blankly at the wall I did do some nice art pieces? I coped? I managed to have good times and make friends despite everything else.

9. What was your biggest failure? I dropped out of two classes specifically because I couldn't do remote learning and self-structured study (BECAUSE ADHD YO), even though it wasn't even that HARD subjects, which was very frustrating. It hasn't set my study plan back, thankfully, but it still felt like a waste.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Only mental. And thankfully not as bad as it could've been, but hell yeah there was some strong anxiety in there.

11. What was the best thing you bought? I've bought some great video games this year. Animal Crossing brought 250 hours of fun, Hades brought 100 hours so far. Good investments.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? // 13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Both of these are related to pandemic behavior so I think you can guess.

14. Where did most of your money go? Entertainment? Also, god, I spent so much money on theatre tickets that are now just vouchers for non-specific future performances. I'll get my money's worth eventually, but right now it's hundres of dollars worth just sitting in vouchers. OH, and, digital D&D books.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? I had tickets for Chess. Several tickets, for multiple performances. STILL HAVEN'T SEEN THIS PRODUCTION THOUGH. But they're still doing it so hopefully it will still happen.

16. What song(s) will always remind you of 2020? Not sure I have any specific ones, actually. No iconic music.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: Last year I was feeling very accomplished. I was challenging myself, had befriended lots of classmates, had gotten through some stuff I was quite proud of managing. This year has been... not that. But on the other hand, I'm not as exhausted from school stuff, and I'm ready to actually go places and try to do things, as opposed to just wanting a month long nap.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? General life maintainance stuff. Not just school work, but like, focus more on money sensibility and try to get on disability, go to the dentist, work with my doctor more... All of that got a little bit just... postponed indefinitely.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Uh, can't think of any notable negative behaviour. It's mostly stuff I didn't do. Like, I had some bad anxiety in the spring, but honestly I think I did an appropriate amount of worrying.

20. How will you be spending Christmas? Had my first christmas with my flatmates (whom I love very much), and had my dad over as well. It was very lovely, and socially way less draining than usual.

22. Did you fall in love in 2020? lmao I'm aromantic

23. How many one-night stands? lmao I'm asexual

24. What was your favorite TV program? There were a few this year! Good Omens, The Queen's Gambit, Julie and the Phantoms, Avenue 5. There were more I watched and enjoyed, but I think those stand out the most. Also, does Critical Role count? OH, The Baby Sitters Club! A lot of good stuff.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? Nah. I don't hate a lot of people.

26. What was the best book you read? Don't think I read anything notable this year. Don't read a lot of books, I prefer to consume stories in other media.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Julie and the Phantoms. Not because the music is astounding or anything, but it was very feel-good and fun. Don't think I had a lot of new music.

28. What did you want and get? D&D campaigns? Have gotten really invested in one of them in particular, it's delightful.

29. What was your favorite film of this year? Hmmm. The only one that stands out was The Old Guard. I watch more series than films. 2 hours isn't long enough for me to get properly invested AND satisfied.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I turned 33 and I don't know that I did anything special. I think I just chilled? Flatmates made me a nice breakfast!

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Having the energy for essays/exams, probably. Just feeling like I actually had some accomplishments. OR LIKE. If Norway did like New Zealand and just wiped the virus out.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2020? Pyjamas. Occasionally 'apocalypse chic'.

34. What kept you sane? My flatmates and my dad. Reliable social interaction with people I care about.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Matthew McNulty, which applies to every single year. But this year I started both a gallery website and a discord server for him, so it was a particularly good year for him. (Special mention to Paul Spera, who I finally talked to face-to-face, through Zoom, but still.) Also I'm using 'fancy' platonically.

36. What political issue stirred you the most? Ha aha hah all of them, oh god. BLM, probably, though. That was when I still had the energy to get invested.

37. Who did you miss? So many people. Like, come on. I don't know that it was even specific people so much just... being in a group? Like, my choir gang?

38. Who was the best new person you met? Met a guy I ended up playing a LOT of board games with. We haven't really talked in a few months now tho. And there's a friend I didn't MEET this year, but I really connected with, who's also now my DM, which was really nice.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2020: It's not necessarily new knowledge, but this year has really driven home the need for both community solidarity and governmental support/leadership.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: I'm alone in my apartment, that means I can do anything / I'm not wearing pants (alone in my apartment - Brian David Gilbert)

Summary: It's been a conflicted year, a lot has felt like it's been on stand-still, but there's still been some good things in there.

#real life maybe #2020 #personal

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yayneloveart · 5 years ago

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Good Omens/Lucifer 3

‘Did you just say ‘Thaddeus Dowling’?’ Crowley asked in shock.

“Yeah, he's running for Governor,’ Ella confirmed.

‘Lucifer, the dead bloke worked for Thaddeus Dowling,’ Crowley hissed at Lucifer and smacked his arm.

‘Yes, and?’ he looked at his brother incredulously.

‘Former Ambassador to the UK Thaddeus Dowling?’

Lucifer continued to give him a blank look.

‘Father of Warlock Dowling?’ Crowley hissed too low for the others to hear.

Lucifer look at Crowley and then at the computer screen where Ella had brought up a picture of the politician and his family. A look of realization came over Lucifer's face when the pieces finally fell in place.

‘Are you two... familiar with Mr. Dowling?’ Chloe asked them.

‘Well...’ Crowley began, but didn’t know where to go. He couldn’t just come out and say ‘Lucifer tried to start the apocalypse by switching the son of a diplomat with his own Hell spawn but it got fucked up and they accidentally switched the wrong babies and the wrong kid was groomed to rule the world for 11 years’.

‘I, uh...’ Lucifer froze up. ‘Before I left hell... Before Lux, I was... uh...’

‘We had a... thing... happening in England...’ Crowley tried to help.

‘And that... thing...’

‘It sort of involved the Dowlings, but not what you think.’

‘Could it be directly related to this case?’ Chloe asked.

‘No, it had nothing to do with drugs,’ Crowley clarified.

‘Were you doing something illegal?’

‘Um...’ Crowley figured that even though they didn’t do the actual baby switching, Lucifer did organize the whole thing, and Crowley was an accessory.

‘I had Crowley spy on the Dowlings,’ Lucifer confessed.

‘Why were you spying on an American diplomat?’ Dan forced himself to ask, not sure if he wanted an answer at all.

‘There was a thing I wanted to keep an eye on with them,’ Lucifer tried to explain. ‘But it wasn’t political, it was more... personal.’

‘Alright, so you spied on the Dowlings,’ Chloe stated. ‘And it wasn’t related to American politics or this case?’

‘Yes, exactly,’ Crowley confirmed.

‘How did you do this and what do you know that can help the case?’

‘I worked as a nanny to their son, Warlock. I mostly dealt with him but I got to know the parents as well. Mr. Dowling was married to his job and Mrs. Dowling had to deal with him turning everything into something work related.’

‘Like turning his sons 20th birthday party into a campaign party?’ Ella spoke up. Everyone looked over to her and saw she had pulled up the twitter account for Mr. Dowling’s campaign. The most recent tweet was announcing Warlock’s 20th birthday party and showed that several other politicians with kids his age were invited too.

‘Is he really 20 already? I remember teaching him to ride a tricycle.’

‘Do you think you could get an invitation to the party?’ Chloe asked him. ‘Maybe with a plus one so an officer could come with you.’

‘Possibly. Warlock probably hates the fact that his dad is using his birthday to gain supporters. If he remembers me fondly, he might ask that I come.’

‘His website has a number that goes to his office,’ Ella showed them. ‘Give them a call and see what we can do.’

‘Lets hope they remember me,’ Crowley pulled out his phone and dialed the number on the website. It rang a few times before a young woman answered.

‘Dowling Campaign Office, how can we help you?’

‘Hello darling, I’m calling to see if I could have a word with Mr. Dowling,’ Crowley said in a soft, feminine voice. ‘My name is Ms. Ashtoreth, I used to nanny for his son, Warlock. I’m visiting the area and looking to see if I could wish master Warlock a happy birthday.’

‘Alright, hold for just a minute.’ There was a click and some generic hold music came on.

‘Um... so... Ms. Ashtoreth?’ Dan asked awkwardly.

‘Sometimes I like to switch things up,’ Crowley waved off.

‘I have a cousin like that!’ Ella blurted. ‘Sometimes she feels like Maria, sometimes he feels like Markus.’

‘Something like that.’

The hold music suddenly stopped and the womans voice came back. ‘Mr. Dowling would love to speak with you. I’m transferring you over to his private line.’

There was another click and the line picked back up. ‘Ms. Ashteroth? This is Thaddeus Dowling.’

‘Hello Mr. Dowling, how are you today?’

While Crowley and Dowling were exchanging pleasantries, the others whispered a plan of action.

‘I can go with him as a relative,’ Chloe put forward. ‘We talk with Dowling and anyone else there on his staff and see if Crowley recognizes that cologne.’

‘Hes my actual brother, why can’t I go?’ Lucifer sounded annoyed.

‘We leave you two alone for five seconds and you’re at each others throats,’ Dan explained. ‘This way we don’t risk an all out wrestling match breaking out and crashing the party.’

‘Warlock would probably enjoy that happening,’ Crowley whispered with his hand over his phone. ‘I was at his 11th birthday and it ended with a food fight.’

‘So, are you free this Saturday?’ Dowling asked through the phone.

‘Oh yes, sir, all day,’ Crowley responded in his feminine voice.

‘Then why don’t you join us at the party, I’m sure you would love to catch up with the kid. And bring a friend if you like, the more the merrier!’

‘That would be fantastic, thank you so much for the invitation.’ He ended the call and looked up at the others, ‘Dowling would do anything to secure more voters.’

‘So I’m going with you as your cousin,’ Chloe explained. ‘We can work up a list of suspects after we talk to the guests.’

‘It would be better if you were my niece,’ Crowley suggested. ‘They remember Ms. Ashteroth as an older lady and that was over ten years ago.’

‘Until Saturday, we can look more into what Weisser’s job duties were at the Campaign and if anyone he worked for had any drug connections. Check out his accounts for any unusual deposits, talk to his wife again about his work.’

‘And since I’m not an officer, I’m heading out,’ Crowley jumped up and went for the door, but Lucifer cut him off.

‘We’re not done here yet, brother,’ he smiled.

‘Yes we are,’ Crowley quickly stepped around him and slipped through the door before Lucifer could force it back shut. Lucifer went out after him.

‘Come on, we both live on earth now, why not catch up? Have a drink?’

‘I’ve got plans!’ Crowley shouted back at him.

‘Are they with whoever has the matching ring to yours?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘You maimed me, the least you could do is talk to me.’

‘You had that bite coming.’

‘At least come by my nightclub, its called Lux! You can drink free!’

Crowley finally slipped through the front entrance of the station. Lucifer finally turned back around and rejoined Chloe and the others.

‘How am I surprised that a relative of your can’t wait to get away from you?’ Dan laughed.

‘He’s just scared because I tried to kill him a few years ago. I’ll convince him one of these days I’m not going to try that again.’

‘My brother tried to drown me once,’ Ella said. ‘Held me underwater after I stole his swim goggles. Refused to go back in the water with him for years, not until I was big enough to hold him under.’

‘Maybe give him some time,’ Chloe suggested. ‘He’ll see in time that you’re not looking to hurt him.’

‘Or maybe I can take his phone number from his witness statement and send him pictures of Lux to convince him to come over and party.’

‘Or maybe not listen to me and do what you always do.’

(dont expect daily updates, i was only able to do this three days in a row because i had time off work and my carpel tunnel is too bad to spend a lot of time drawing. Also, on Pillowfort and eventually AO3, the fic will be named Ineffable Idiots.)

#good omens #anthony j crowley #crowley #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #dan espinoza #ella lopez

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theorynexus · 5 years ago

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Fudge, I already did 57/ Now I have to do 58/ 13 over 12, man / I guess we’re doing human stuff instead of trolling, today.

Coincidentally via some sort of textual wonder possibly related to authorial intent and/or miracles, we now have to focus on Roxy, now. Somewhat ironic, considering Terezi just said she and John wouldn’t work out. ...

***shift eyes, something about knowing the unknowable and the vagueries thereof, possible interference by the new Narrator, et cetera*** Hmmm~

What, so black holes cause suck up all the voidiness into themselves via proximity?! Noooo~ Who’d have thought! (In all seriousness, that gives some interesting resonance mechanic relation, here. I want to know whether it’s just Alt!Calliope that can sense said thoughts, if it’s just Roxy being over-emotional, or if any other observer would be able to pick such thoughts up and it’s just a mater of proxy-imity.)

Okay, then. I thought the point of this was to look like a completely passive observer and not tip people off other than via the black eyes, but you do you, I guess-- if that’s intentional. Nice gazing out through the fourth wall, though. I’m sure Jade would be/is vaguely proud, knowing the narrative resonance, here, given her own fourth wall breaking shenanigans.

I blame time and void interactions. Also Dave being an insufferable prick. Good to know, regarding Roxy and their feelings toward Dave, though.

Is Dirk going to literally shoot him in the arse? That would be horribly ironic, and probably quite crippling to Joke Jake’s reputation and/or the power of his endorsement, if so. Semi-related: I do sortof understand Dave’s belief/concern with regards to the importance of this event. What I want to know is why there are not thousands of Daves running around, all helping the campaign and being available to deal with other important tasks.

“Iced” cream is the best fricking thing, Dirk, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.

This really reminds me of Equius and Nepeta, and that is sortof cute. I almost can’t stand it. Honestly, this relationship is actually quite similar, except Alt!Calliope is much more dominant in the relationship than Nepeta was. Also Dirk probably has more potential to damage things than Equius did (other than way out of the temporal frame of that moirallegiance, as part of Lord English--- and even then, Nepeta ironically acted as a counter to his muscle-bound rage, albeit way after much of the damage had already been done [thanks, Davesprite {albeit, unrelated to the matter at hand, this relationship was probably why Davepettasprite^2 was destined in such a way to handle Lord English, in addition to the prophesies surrounding Dave dealing with him, Davesprite being the first one to get Caledfwlch, and the flying off into the sun prophesy (which was aided greatly by Seppucrow, the true hero of the story)}]). I guess that makes this relationship relatively more important, maybe.

So fricking wonderful and adorable. I do wonder why there are not that many consorts, though. Maybe they are just too distracted and hyperactive to have much in the way of drive to participate in politics. The humans I sortof vaguely understand, albeit I’d have thought that more might show up specifically for Jake’s speech, assuming that it was announced beforehand.

Dirk feels predictably antagonized, and is lashing out. I have a feeling that he’d intended to do something major before all this control was taken from him, but this will probably make it worse. Hmm.

Heh. I don’t think that he means to “pump her full of daylight,�� at the moment, so this is still funny instead of terrifying.

Huh. Dave already knew about Calliope’s gender and is chill with it. Neat.

Oh. Umm... while I’m sure that he does not need that in order to target Jade’s body if he intends to do so, that is quite foreboding. He is indeed quite capable of tricking people into doing things, at times, isn’t he?

HAH! That is horrible, you self-obsessed weirdo! XD

More serious than being mind controlled by a space witch with bad intentions who has mind powers stolen from all the major players of her species, huh? (I seriously still wonder how the fight against her went so relatively-seemingly easily, and what happened with her curse. Maybe it only transfers in LE’s proximity, or something. ) ... Also, it wasn’t entirely just a joke, Roxy, geeze.

Thaaat’s what happens when your world is under a corrupting influence that is twisting the fabric of reality to their whim. (The question is: Is this Dirk or Calliope? Does she really have the right to judge him for his actions, if he really is expressing free will in doing so? Yes, yes she does, because he is strongly subverting the will of others, and justice in Paradox Space demands some sort of counterbalancing force. If his excess relevance as the Narrator is the only cost he faces, rather than dying a Just Death, he should feel lucky.)

***peals of cherubic laughter peal out in the background*** Random reminder: Angels (in Homestuck) are terrifying demons that should be taken as harbringers of the apocalypse. Alt!Calliope has already played this job once along with Lord English. Is her presence outside canon an ill omen by definition? (I am not sure Calliope the younger entirely counts, given her special circumstances, by the way. Hard to say.)

Beautiful. It’s almost like he’s an open PAGE of Hope, waiting to be written!

This is a somewhat wise impression. But it’s complicated, and great power means great responsibility. Especially when the nuclear genie has already been let out of the bottle on account of someone’s great ambition. (Note: I actually find Jane’s impulse to rule over her creation to be a reasonable one to have, all things considered. I am not judging her negatively for this. I am just not 100% certain that it is the right path to go on before they get a few dozen more years to wise them up, or maybe a few centuries. Wisdom is a very important thing for leadership, and it comes with age! Of course, experience also helps, but it might be useful to have some sort of smaller-scale experimentation with politic-- oh, wait, wasn’t she made a mayor at some point, according to the credits? That really hasn’t been emphasized in the epilogue at all, but probably should be more heavily considered. It’s still not enough experience for me to feel confident in her, but it’s something. Hmm.)

I mean... I can hear you. I thought your awareness was still there. I guess maybe having your position of control taken away from you might have sapped that as well, maybe. And yes, it is very interesting, indeed. Now, please put down the gun and try to negotiate more reasonably and in a more civilized fashion than the mistaken cowboy diplomacy idea you’re now engaging in. I will give Dirk some slack insofar as he is still getting used to her identifying as such, but he is sortof making a fool of himself by lashing out at Alt!Callie like that. It’s rather irrational, and doesn’t reflect very well on his character. It makes him out as being rather petulant and inflexible when it comes to identity matters.

Yeeeeep.

This is true (regarding the last part). It is also really sad to see them fighting like this. >:

Dave, you are being a dummy. You should really stop.

Aww. That is a very cute reaction. :3 Also, that is somewhat dishonest, Alt!Calliope. You should say “seemingly” nothing. ***harrumphs and wags my finger at them!***

It is somewhat rude of him to laugh, but I am almost tempted to laugh too, specifically at the fact that this is Alt!Calliope confirming emphatically the beauty of their other version in Roxy’s eyes. It has a sort of ironic tension and silliness to it. Possibly some pride. I therefore cannot entirely blame him for his laughter, for I do not know whether that is what he is laughing at, or if he’s laughing at the idea of finding an alien skull monster beautiful (which she really is).

It is sortof nice to see this encouragement from Dirk, albeit it is probably laced with irony and sarcasm. Knowing one’s self and admitting/accepting the things one feels is incredibly important to a person’s health! It feels brotherly of him.

I wonder if Roxy actually feels that way (that it is none of her business), or if it’s Alt!Calliope’s somewhat cold (and sarcastically-directed) interpretation of things. Hmm.

A very important question to ask for someone who is dealing with their own identity issues and/or worries about their friends judging them for them. This is really all there is to say on the matter.

That is a complicated question. The answer is this: Identity is only partially self-deterministic. You can certainly struggle and hope and wish for certain things, indulge in certain behaviors, and see what rubs off on you, or what you feel right about, but in all honesty, you are who you are. This CAN change over time, and that is something that most people don’t think about. To say you “change your mind” about “the person you wanna be” is not an accurate statement: you don’t necessarily choose anything at all, other than whether you want to actually embrace who you are and/or are becoming, and if you will actually tell anyone about it. In that sense: whether it is too late to change your mind about who you say and outwardly project you are?--- no, it is not too late. However, it can potentially be pretty fricking confusing to people, and some friends may not be able to handle it, especially if they have pretty deeply imbedded themselves in your own journey/identity, and/or anchored themselves in it as part of their own. This can cause them to be pretty put off, and potentially to have difficulty maintaining their relationship with you. As such, in summary: one should be careful and always very much self-reflective about identity issues. The choice to come out with any sort of change or difference is not an easy one, and someone should not be blamed for either side they fall upon--- whether they want to keep who they are a secret and/or for how long, or if they want to project it to the world (unless they are really violent about it and/or attempt to shame someone/force themselves upon another person as a “necessary” thing to do for their own growth/impulses or whathaveyou: that is just abusive and wrong).

No. While there is some degree of social capital involved and thus you should attempt to time things properly and take the needs of others into account (which means you have no right to get upset at them if they don’t react a certain way and/or are too involved with whatever is going on in their life right then to grapple with your assuredly stunning revelation), one does not owe their friends any sort of bombshell moment, and any sort of desire for one and/or push on someone else’s part for identity-related drama and/or revelation is actually what is greedy.

***shrug*** I guess it’s funny insofar as it has psychological humor wrapped into it and it makes the phraseology more cutesy (thus more approachable, I guess), but it’s not mind-blowing or anything.

And that’s okay. Someone can be casual about these things and not make it a federal fricking issue if they don’t want to. It’s also okay to have repeated revelations and/or constantly wrestle with who you actually are. It’s not something to be embarrassed about or paranoid with in a social respect, especially in a world with numerous different species of alien humanoids that have different and somewhat conflicting types of identities and drives. Almost indisputably, that should make identity issues less of a socially big deal.

Yes. Just like you helped him before. Oh wait, what was that? You had years to figure it out, but did nothing? Ah, well. Couldn’t be helped, I guess. Brothers do have their own separate matters to consider, after all.

***snickers*** Honestly, he’s probably right, but for different reasons than he’s expressing.

***cough time travel, cough*** Note: I actually don’t want to read that. It would feel like a really awkward sort of waste of narrative time. I’m just annoyed at the very ironic lack of time manipulation he’s been doing. Though in this case it sortof does suit him, insofar as he is using time concerns that he obviously could get around as if they were a suit of armor and/or armaments for him to verbally exploit. Very knight-y. Aaand this feels like about the right time to end this post.

#Homestuck Analysis #Identity #Homestuck Spoilers #Homestuck Liveblog #Homestuck Epilogue

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luckyspike · 5 years ago

Text

You really dungeon my dragons babey - a Good Omens fanfic about D&D

Here’s the AO3 link if you want to read it there instead.

Basically, Newt wants to start a D&D group. Anathema recruits two players: one is a being of neutral good, and the other chaotic evil. Roll initiative.

They’ve lived in Jasmine Cottage for about two years when Anathema started to worry about Newt a little. Not much, but a little. Oh, he wasn’t sick, there was nothing wrong with him per se, but, well. She thought about Tadfield, and the cottage, and Newt.

He worked in the village, doing grant writing for a non-profit. It was a wonderful job for him, and he fell into it shortly after the Nahpocalypse - Adam said Pepper’s mom was looking for someone to help her out with the business, and things had just gone from there. Anathema still harbored some suspicion that Adam had had perhaps a little more to do with it than just overhearing Pepper’s mom talking shop, but he swore innocence (not that she believed him, but he was such a good kid she let it slide) and Newt loved the job, flourished in it even, and Anathema had been content. She herself earned a living doing telephone psychic readings*, and made herself a fixture in the village. After all, what quaint little village doesn’t love having a witch in this modern age? She did her readings, and helped out at the primary school when they needed it, and coordinated the community garden. Eight months into her residency, a bashful RP Tyler approached her and apologized, actually apologized for accusing her of smoking fatty spliffers (which she and Crowley had adopted as the de facto term for anything involving marijuana at all), and thanked her for coming to town and her service to the community, even if she was a witch. She had ingrained herself into the little village of Tadfield, and she made friends, and in spite of not having a road map for her life any longer, she was happy.

And Newt, she thought, seemed very happy too. He said he was happy. He went to work and returned home and fussed over Dick Turpin and meddled with computers in the office (he had not improved, but he had a good time, so that was what counted). He played with The Them when they asked him, and helped them with homework, and always was on Anathema’s arm whenever she went out. He took her on lovely dates, and made her laugh every day, and was so wonderfully Newt that she couldn’t imagine life without him. Agnes, blast her, had been very right about that one.

But even in light of all that - in light of the perfect life they seemed to have settled into in Tadfield - she worried. She thought about her life and his, and contrasted the two, and thought about how she had friends in the village and long-distance that she liked to call, visit, do things with. And she thought about Newt, and considered that most of his activities were solitary. She mulled it over for months. He was much more introverted than she was, true, and valued his personal time, but unless he was doing something with her, or with The Them, he entertained himself exclusively.

She wondered if that would be his choice.

She brought it up in the fall, two years in, over lunch at the pub in the village. He paused, sandwich in hand, chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed and then said, “I’m not really sure I follow what you mean.”

“I mean,” Anathema went on, stealing a few chips from his plate, “that I just want to make sure your needs are being met. Are your hobbies okay, or is there something that you want to do but haven’t been able to because you don’t have anybody to do it with?” She raised her eyebrows. He frowned. “I mean, I know some people in the village, at the air base, so maybe I could introduce you if you want to like, take up, oh, I don’t know, horseshoes or something.”

“Horseshoes?” He laughed. “Why horseshoes?”

“It was just an example.” She shrugged and stole a few more chips. “I’m just asking, no pressure. But you know, you work on computers by yourself, and take care of Dick Turpin by yourself -”

“Sometimes Brian helps.”

“Mostly by yourself,” she amended, “and you don’t do pub quiz nights or a book club or anything, not that you should want to do those things, of course, but, you know, do you?”

Newt took another bite, and smiled at her, which managed to be charming even with a cheekful of roast beef. “Never really been one for pub quiz or reading. Well, except the newspaper.” He swallowed. “Thanks for asking but, you know I really am very happy.”

“Good.” She returned his smile, and stole another three chips. At this point, Newt had resolved himself to simply not getting any, and didn’t say anything. “Just making sure.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Newt idly watching the cricket match on the pub TV and Anathema checking in with a cat she’d spoken to a few weeks ago who had been very disgruntled and wanted to be sure her owner knew to stop giving her a certain brand of food. The cat assured her that all was well, and thank you for checking, and Anathema was just about to return her attention to her boyfriend when he spoke. “You know, there is something I haven’t done in years, used to do it as a kid, but it might be fun if we can find a few more people to do it with.”

“Oh?”

“You ever played Dungeons and Dragons?”

Anathema kept her face carefully blank. “Is that … like, Dungeons and Dragons, where you roll dice and pretend to be a wizard?”

“Yeah, the roleplaying game. Have you ever played?”

“No.”

“It’s pretty fun if you have a good group,” Newt went on happily. “I used to play with a few people when I was in sixth form. We got together twice every month and the one guy - his name was Martin, I think - would run the sessions. I was a barbarian.”

“A barbarian?” Anathema laughed. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! Named ‘Urgular’.” He sighed. “He died about four months into the campaign, got killed by some harpies, but Martin let him get resurrected by magic so I could keep playing.” A thoughtful look crossed his face. “Wish I could remember his last name … I really should have kept in touch with him. Maybe my mum’ll remember.”

Anathema shifted in her seat, sitting on her hands and thinking it over. “How many people do you need to play?”

“Oh? Oh, at least four. Three players and one dungeon master. That’s the person that runs the game session,” he clarified, when Anathema raised an eyebrow and smirked. “It’s better if you have four players though, so a group of five is better. That’s how many we had.”

Anathema thought about it, chewing her lip. “So say we could get three other people.”

“Who?”

She held up a hand. “Say we can get three other people. Would you want to play? You’d probably have to run the game, unless we find someone who’s played before.”

Newt looked surprised. “You’d play?”

“Of course.” She shrugged. “I’ve never done it before, but I listen to that podcast you like where they play, and it seems like fun.” She raised her eyebrows. “You want me to ask around?”

“I can ask around too,” he said, eagerly. “You know what, yeah. Yeah! Let’s see if we can get some people together for a session, just a one-shot session, and see how it goes. If it’s fun, we can make it a regular thing!”

Anathema laid her hands on the table. “Alright, that’s settled. I’ll ask some people, you ask some people, we can see if we can make it work. And you’re sure you’ll still have fun if you’re in charge?”

“Might even be more fun,” he replied, with a glint in his eye. “Yeah, let’s do it. You know, I can think of a few people to ask, let me know if you find anybody too.”

It proved harder than she thought. First of all, while she was sure The Them would be more than willing to play, she wanted to try to keep the group to adults. She asked a few friends from the air base, but they all turned her down for various reasons (one sergeant had been very eager and accepted initially, but called her a few days later with the news that she was being transferred back to America, and wouldn’t be able to join). She asked around at the school, too, but in most cases they cited problems finding childcare or reluctance to play. Newt had somewhat better luck, and managed to find one person to join - Pepper’s mother, his boss - but he, too, struck out after pooling his group of coworkers. Days turned into weeks, and the issue gradually slid from both of their minds, although Pepper’s mom would ask Newt about it sometimes, checking for any developments.

Anathema had completely forgotten about it, actually, until one evening about a month after their lunch at the pub, when she was on one of her sporadic but always-pleasant phone calls with Aziraphale. They were talking - just social chat, nothing serious - and he asked after Newt, as usual. “He’s good,” she said, lounged back on the sofa, legs crossed and free hand tucked into her sweatshirt pocket against the early winter chill. “No big developments. He likes work, he’s still awful with computers, and he still loves his car.” She adjusted her glasses, and sighed. “We were trying to get together a group to play Dungeons and Dragons - he used to play in school and he liked it a lot - but we’ve been having trouble organizing it, so, you know, holding pattern on that.”

She was surprised when the angel said, “Oh, the roleplaying game with the dice?”

It was so out-of-the-ordinary for Aziraphale, perpetually stuck 100 years in the past, to know anything modern that she needed a second to recover. “Yeah,” she said, eventually. “You know it?”

“There’s a group that meets in the bookshop once a month to play. I make them tea.” Of course he did. “It seems interesting, I suppose.”

Anathema blinked. Should she … ? Oh, why not? she figured. You stop the apocalypse with someone, playing some roleplaying game was hardly a marriage proposal**. “We have room in the group - Newt was hoping to get five people, but right now we only have three, and he said we could play with four.”

She heard him humming as he thought. “Why not? I’ll have the group in the shop give me a lesson.”

She laughed, and tried to imagine that conversation. “I don’t know how to play at all, so I’m assuming it’s fine if you don’t know anything.”

“Well, perhaps just a brief overview. You said a group of five would be preferable?”

“Yeah, but we’ve had so much trouble just finding four. And Newt and Marion - that’s Pepper’s mom - are really eager to start playing, so if you really want to join we can -”

“I’ll bring Crowley.”

That gave her pause. Crowley was … he was a demon of many talents and a colorful and varied history, but somehow she was having difficulty imagining him playing D&D. “Has he … played?”

“Not that I know of.” She almost cut in, but something in Aziraphale’s tone of voice - yes, yes, it was mischief, that was it, Anathema had learned that early on because for an angel, Aziraphale did like to stir it up every once in a while - stopped her. “I’m sure he’ll take right to it.”

“You think?”

“At the very least it will be extremely entertaining. He doesn’t do anything by halves.” A tinge of concern broke in. “It can be a blessing and a curse.”

“No, no he doesn’t.” She smiled, already imagining various ways Newt’s game could go with the introduction of an actual being of chaotic evil. “Will he say yes?”

“What’s he going to claim, work conflict? He’ll say yes.” He sounded smug. “I’ll tell him about it later tonight. Do you have a date established for this?”

“Not yet - we’ll have to talk to Marion and make sure it works for everybody. If you tell Crowley tonight, can I text him the possibilities?”

“Certainly. I look forward to it.” The amusement dropped, and he changed the subject, “Which, speaking of Crowley, did I tell you he’s set on having an exhibit at Chelsea Flower Show next year? He’s got so many plants in the house I’m starting to think we’re going to have to start breathing just to make sure they get enough carbon dioxide …” He went on, and Anathema listened, but she was also thinking. She couldn’t wait to tell Newt.

She sent a text with a few Saturdays to Crowley two days later, after she told Newt, he had time to freak out about it slightly***, and Newt had spoken with Marion about her schedule. If the demon was unhappy about it, she couldn’t tell, although he was usually not particularly emotive in text message format. They exchanged a few more messages, setting a final date and confirming, and that was that as far as she was concerned. Two days before the chosen Saturday, she decided to start working on her character. Newt had been working on the game session furiously since she’d told him she’d found two more players, and she suspected he was diligently trying to engineer a way that Crowley’s character could not die. Either that, or he was writing a really brilliant story. As she flipped through the player manual, chapter 1, and read about classes and races and abilities and points, she smiled and considered, knowing Newt, it was probably both.

She did get a little stuck, unfamiliar with the mechanics of the game, and on Friday night she and Newt sat down with a bottle of wine to go over both her character (he had already checked Marion’s at work earlier that day just to be sure everything was as it should be) and allow him to express any anxiety he continued to have about the game. She assured him that she felt he would do a great job - he would, there were no computers involved at all and Newt really was a very good storyteller - and that Crowley certainly wouldn’t kill him with both Aziraphale and Marion, an outsider, present, and therefore Newt had nothing to be concerned about. He clearly disagreed, but it did seem to calm him down somewhat, and he only tossed and turned for about 30 minutes before drifting off to his usual dead-to-the-world slumber that night.

Saturday dawned gray and rainy. Perfect, Anathema thought, for staying in. She dressed in her most comfortable flannel dress, and set to making bread for the afternoon. Newt had picked up a variety of cheeses, dried fruit, nuts, and jams yesterday as well, and she was planning on serving the bread with it, which would allow everybody to eat whatever they liked and as much as they liked. Aziraphale had kindly offered to bring something sweet to compliment the savory, as well as a bottle of wine (which Anathema knew would amount to several bottles of very nice wine, per his usual), so rather than getting any wine out she pulled down a bottle of whisky from the cabinet, as well as the usually-unused espresso machine. Around nine-thirty, she heard Newt upstairs, moving around and getting ready, eventually padding into the office, presumably to make any last-minute adjustments. Anathema, with the bread in the oven and everything as ready as she could think to make it for whatever might happen that afternoon, went to the living room to make a few scheduled phone calls - there was a horse in Surrey who wouldn’t go in its stall, and a dog in Indiana that kept eating chair legs, and two owners who were very concerned about their respective pets - while she waited.

Marion arrived first, promptly at two. Anathema welcomed her in, hung up her raincoat - “it’s awful out there, cold and coming down like anything, glad Pep and the others were happy to stay in rather than try to go to that chalk pit in this weather” - and led the way to the living room. “We’re expecting two more,” she explained, raising her voice a little as she went to the kitchen to get the other woman a glass of water. “They’ll be fashionably late, as usual.”

“Friends of yours?” Marion asked when Anathema returned. “The bread smells delicious, by the way, thank you for baking.”

“No trouble, my pleasure. And yeah, we met them a couple of years ago when I was new in town. I had … some trouble with my bike (In that Crowley hit it with his car, she thought) and they gave me a ride home. Of course I forgot some stuff in their car, so we had to meet again so I could get that back, and we just sort of stayed in touch ever since.”

Marion beamed. “How nice. I’m very excited - I’ve always wanted to play this, but I could never convince anyone in the commune to play with me.” She laughed. “Much more interested in guitar circles, that group. Anyway, after I left, I went straight back to school and it was just me and Pep and I got so busy raising her and working and all that I sort of forgot about it. Funny how it worked out though!”

“Yeah,” Anathema laughed. “I’ve always been a big believer in things working out the way they’re supposed to. Can I get you anything else to drink? Newt should be down in a minute.”

“Oh some tea would be lovely, thank you, Anathema.” She pulled out a character sheet and a notebook, and smiled encouragingly. “I need a minute to look over this anyway.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, standing. “Newt helped me last night with that. I think I have about a tenth of what I’m going to need to know handled.”

Marion looked relieved. “Thank goodness someone feels the same way. I was afraid I was missing something.”

“No, not at all. Newt’s the only one that’s played before, although Mister, um Mr. Fell, that will be joining us, he owns a bookshop in Soho and said there’s a group that plays there once a month, so he’s picked up a little from them.”

“Oh, interesting!” She nodded, and then returned to her notebook, double-checking the scribbled numbers and items against the player manual. Anathema excused herself and headed into the kitchen to put the kettle on - Newt was on his way downstairs anyway, if the creaking of the floorboards was any indication, and Crowley and Aziraphale probably weren’t long off.

The kettle had just clicked off and Anathema had poured three cups of tea - Newt, Marion, Aziraphale - as well as made one espresso - Crowley - when the knock came at the door. Fashionably late, as usual. She left the tea to steep, and answered it. The duo were on the step, Aziraphale with two notebooks tucked under his arm and a bag of what Anathema assumed to be dice in his hand, and Crowley holding two bottles of wine and balancing a plate of biscuits, possibly nominally happy. It was pouring, they did not have any semblance of raingear, and they were perfectly dry. Typical.

“Come in!” She stepped aside to allow both entry - the horseshoe above the door sizzled in the rain as it heated and cooled - and exchanged a hug with Aziraphale before taking the wine and plate from Crowley. “Can I take any coats? I made tea. And coffee. It’s extremely hot.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Crowley stayed hunched in his jacket. “It’s freezing. How is it not snowing?”

Aziraphale patted his shoulder. “Because it’s not actually freezing, dear, it’s just winter. And I told you to bring the heated coat.”

Anathema blinked. “Heated coat?”

“S’got batteries in, stays really warm,” the Serpent of Eden replied. “I’ll be fine in twenty.”

“I’ll get the coffee. Newt and Marion - that’s Pepper’s mother - are already in the living room. If you want, I’m sure Newt can double-check everything for you before we get started. He helped me last night, and I think he’s just making sure things are alright with Marion now.”

Aziraphale looked relieved. “Oh, good. I’m fairly certain I have the right of it at this point, but the group at the shop cancelled this month because of exams so I couldn’t have anybody check it beforehand.”

“Mine’s fine,” Crowley said. Anathema tried not to think too much about the grin that accompanied that. “Got it all figured out.”

“Right. I’ll, uh. I’ll be right in then.” By the time she finished setting the drinks on a tray and joined everyone, introductions had been made and papers and notebooks and dice were laid out on the table. Newt had laid her place for her, to his right, while he had a little cardboard screen set up. Aziraphale and Marion were chatting and Crowley was studying what Anathema could only assume was his character sheet, holding it so it was concealed from the other players, and he was positively beaming. It couldn’t be good. She knew that look. Aziraphale was, resolutely, ignoring him.

“Okay,” Newt said, nervousness apparent in his voice but determination on his face. “Now we’re all settled uh, why don’t we kind of go through everyone’s character together, just basics to sort of clarify who your character is and why they might be going on an adventure. Anathema, do you want to start?”

She nodded and picked her sheet up. “Ok. I’ll be playing Tovi, a halfling sorcerer. She was initially raised by a close family, but the homebody lifestyle was not exciting enough for her, so she decided to strike out on her own.”

“Great! Awesome. And we checked your sheet already, so that’s fine. Marion?”

Marion sat forward, hands on her character sheets, reading carefully. “I’ll be playing Brandeen, a human warlock. She comes from a very religious family who shunned her when she formed a pact with Ghaunadar.”

“Good name, Ghaunadar,” Crowley said. “Very spooky.”

“I thought so, too,” Marion agreed, folding her hands in her lap. “Anyway, that’s me.” She looked to Aziraphale, to her right, who set his tea down carefully.

“Ah, so this character is called, ah, Aldriel Lightmace, and he’s an elf paladin. He was initially in the army, but on completion of his service he chose to continue traveling rather than return home.”

Newt nodded. “Sounds great, and your sheet looked fine.” He swallowed, and looked to the demon, grinning like a jackal to his left. “I’m almost afraid to ask.” Aziraphale sighed, Marion giggled, and Anathema propped her chin in her hand. “Crowley?”

“I,” he said, every single indicator being that he was delighted with himself as he slapped the notebook down on the table, “will be Chastity the tiefling bard. I was forced to leave town for 1) being a demon and 2) being annoying.”

Aziraphale scowled. “A bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Play what you feel comfortable with, the book said. Anyway you’re one to talk.”

Anathema covered her eyes. “Are you going to sing?” She had heard Crowley sing before, either after many drinks or a particularly potent fatty spliffer, and it had made her second-guess all of the things she’d heard about the beautiful harmonious choirs of angels. Of course, Crowley was not technically an angel anymore, so maybe he’d lost that at some point. If not, then she’d considered that the beauty of the Heavenly Choir had probably been greatly over-exaggerated.

“Of course I am.”

Newt grimaced. “Great. So that’s … that’s actually an okay party in terms of balance. Should be fine for today, anyway. Can I see your character sheet, please? Just to … just to check?” Crowley handed it over, the big reveal done with, and Newt duly checked it for accuracy. “Right. Fine. You don’t need many intelligence points anyway, I guess.” He handed the sheet back, and visibly steeled himself. “Okay. So … that’s everyone. Is everyone ready?” He took a breath. “Right, so we start in an inn, at the bar. The inn isn’t crowded, there’s a group of three adventurers talking to a grizzled old dwarf in one corner, he appears to be giving them a job, and there’s a few other patrons at the bar. There barkeep is cleaning a glass. What do you do?”

Anathema considered it. “I think Tovi is at the bar ordering a drink.”

“Brandeen is sitting quietly in a corner by herself, watching.”

“Aldriel is going to approach the elf sitting alone at the end of the bar and -”

“Chastity is going to hit on Aldriel immediately.”

Marion and Anathema laughed. Aziraphale looked at Crowley, exasperated. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Marion held up a hand. “How long have you two known each other?”

“Too long,” Aziraphale answered peevishly, while Crowley sat back, still grinning, arms crossed over his chest. “Alright, so if you’re going to do that, Aldriel will -”

“You don’t want to hear the pick-up line?”

“I do not.”

Anathema and Newt shared a look. Newt, under the nerves, was smiling a little. “I do,” she said.

Crowley leaned back in. “So anyway, Chastity walks up to Aldriel and says ‘glad I brought my library card, because I’m checking you out’.”

“That’s awful,” Aziraphale groaned. Marion and Anathema laughed. Newt’s smile broadened. “Truly horrible.”

“Innit, though?”

“Brandeen is definitely watching this with interest,” Marion added, still laughing.

“I think Tovi heard what might be the world’s worst pickup line and turned around, too.”

Aziraphale considered this. “Aldriel punches Chastity in the face.”

“Okay - what?” Newt stopped. “Uh, I, what? You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

Newt tapped the table. “Because I think technically you have to be lawful good and -”

Aziraphale corrected, “Actually, Aldriel took the Oath of the Ancients, therefore he is able to be neutral good.” He squared his shoulders. “This demon has sullied my purity, and I won’t have it. I punch her.”

Newt blinked, and then sighed. “Alright. Fine. Both of you roll initiative, I guess.”

The game rolled on from there. Luckily, Newt thought on his feet quickly enough to stop the barroom brawl between what would be the party’s two healers before either of them killed the other. Anathema reflected that it was actually quite good Crowley had started off with that, because it lightened the mood considerably and made everyone feel more comfortable with the game. Not that she would ever tell him that.

Gradually, Newt managed to coax Marion’s character into talking to the NPC he needed them to in order to get their quest, and they set out on a relatively straightforward mission to deliver a package to the neighboring town. Anathema quickly learned, however, that in Dungeons and Dragons, a straightforward quest usually leads to four hours’ worth of bickering, irrelevant tangents (“Aldriel wants to investigate the interesting rock formation you mentioned.” “But it’s on the other side of the woods -” “Yes?”), further attempts at pick-up lines, Crowley singing five absolutely terrible “songs” (discernable as songs only because the gameplay implied it, and a clear attempt at singing was made, without any actual success), Marion’s character also singing a song to her patron to try to gain an extra spell slot (she did get a point of inspiration, and Anathema rather suspected that it was because unlike Crowley, Marion was actually quite a nice singer), Anathema’s character getting attacked by a coyote for trying to follow Aldriel, an actual planned encounter with highway bandits, and, eventually, success at delivering the package, although it should be noted that this was only because Newt, having exhausted his reserves of patience, acceded that someone had probably remembered to pick the package back up after Tovi and Chastity threw it into a ditch to better loot the dead bodies of the bandits.

Later, Newt would tell her that all things considered, that was a very normal session, and it had gone well. She’d breathed a sigh of relief and then wondered what a chaotic session would look like. Probably best not to ask.

They had switched to wine halfway through, when the biscuits came out, and Marion was cradling her glass in both hands. “What fun, hm? We’ll have to do it again sometime. That is, if it’s alright with everyone.”

Newt shot Anathema a desperate look, and she shrugged. “I’d be in, but maybe not for at least a month. The holidays are coming up and everything, I’ll probably be visiting America.”

Marion nodded. “Oh yes, certainly. No, I definitely won’t have time until after the new year.”

“Yeah, definitely have to do it again.” Crowley elbowed Newt, who clutched his wineglass more tightly, in a protective stance. “Great idea, Newt.”

Anathema didn’t miss the subtext to Aziraphale’s question of “Do you think we’ll use the same characters again?”

Newt considered it. “I guess it’s up to you all. You’re still low enough in level that I can write a scenario either way, and we can do whatever everybody would prefer.”

“I’d like to play Brandeen some more, at least while I get comfortable with the game,” said Marion. She took a sip of wine, and then looked at her watch. “Oh, look how late it is! Pep was expecting me half an hour ago.” She downed the rest of the wine and looked outside. “Still miserable outside as well.” She stood and shook hands around the table while they said goodbyes, exchanged a hug and a kiss on each cheek with Anathema, and then waved, for good measure. “Lovely meeting you. You said you live in South Downs?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Right along the coast, yes.”

“Well, drive safely. And thank you both,” she said, turning to Anathema and Newt, “for the hospitality. It really was very lovely.”

“Let me get your coat.” Newt followed her to the door, leaving Anathema alone with the pair of supernatural entities, who were debating the quality of the wine Aziraphale had brought. When they heard Marion exchange her final goodbyes with Newt, and the front door closed, Aziraphale turned to Crowley.

“Really? A demon who was kicked out of town for being annoying? And where did you learn those dreadful pick-up lines?”

Crowley laughed. “Play what you know, angel. Anyway, not like you really mixed it up with the whole holy warrior bit. At least I was a bard.”

“Yes, we’ll address that later, possibly on the drive home.” He looked to Anathema, trying to be apologetic while simultaneously trying not to laugh. “I’m so sorry, Anathema, you really can’t take him anywhere.”

She chuckled. “You’re always welcome here. Both of you. If you want to stay, I was going to make spaghetti for Newt and I tonight, and there’s more than enough …” She trailed off, and looked to the kitchen. “There’s still half a bottle of wine in there.”

“We’d hate to impose,” said Aziraphale. “You’re certainly welcome to the wine. It’s the least we can do for the lovely afternoon.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.” She moved to the kitchen, picked up the wine, and topped both glasses off. The bottle did not feel any lighter afterwards. “Stay awhile, wait to see if the weather clears up. They way it’s been raining people’ll be hydroplaning and who knows what.”

“Half the fun of driving in the rain,” Crowley suggested, earning him a disapproving look from Aziraphale. He sighed. “Listen, you don’t have to invite me twice - the less I have to go out in this weather the better.”

“If you’re very sure, Anathema.”

“I am very sure.” She sat down on the couch and nursed her wine a little as Newt came back in. “They’re staying for dinner.”

“Oh. Okay.” He scooped his own glass up from the table before joining her on the couch. “Should I get it started then?”

“Not just yet.” She elbowed him in the side, gently. “So that was fun. How about you, dungeon master? Did you have fun?”

“I …” he thought about it. “Yeah, I did. I have a lot more respect for Martin, too. He was the dungeon master when I learned to play,” he added, for Crowley and Aziraphale’s benefit.

“Is it really called a dungeon master?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds kinky.” Anathema snorted.

“Or game master,” Newt said, hurriedly.

“Eh, slightly better. Not much.”

“Would you want to do it again?” Anathema asked. “Like, be in charge again? I’m sure it wouldn’t be as good but if you want a break, someone else could take the reins next time. We could trade it around, even.”

Newt waved a hand. “No, no I’ll do it again. I kind of have an idea for a longer story, if everyone is willing and able to do more than one session at a time.”

Aziraphale looked to Crowley. “We don’t have anywhere to be in the near future that can’t be re-scheduled. I’d like to hear the story out, as well.” He tilted his glass to Newt. “You ought to write a book, you know, you’re very good.”

“Oh. Oh, uh. Thanks,” Newt mumbled, suddenly studying his wine very closely indeed, a red flush overtaking his ears and cheeks. “That’s … that means a lot, coming from you.”

Crowley scoffed. “No it doesn’t, just because he reads every waking minute doesn’t negate that he’s a being of eternal love and light and goodwill and whatever. He’s always nice.” Newt blinked at the demon, who, at length, shrugged. “I’ve heard worse stories.”

“Crowley,” the angel admonished.

“Fine, I’ll go so far as to say you’re alright even, but you’re on thin ice, Pulsifer.” Newt blushed again - on the Crowley scale that was probably a solid 7/10 rating at least. The demon swallowed a gulp of wine. “Still, I’ll hear you out for another round. We’ll see.”

“It’ll need more work, first. I’ve only just got a rough idea.”

Anathema shrugged, and leaned into him. “You have at least a month. Probably more, the way scheduling always works. You can take your time.” She smiled. “And, you know, maybe a rough outline is okay, since you never know what everyone’s going to do.”

“That’s my motto,” said Crowley. “Set up the big picture and after that just wing it. Er, in a manner of speaking, anyway.”

Newt considered it. “I was thinking … for authenticity, it might help if some of the characters actually spoke another language? Is there really like, a real-life^ equivalent of Infernal?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Could you -”

Aziraphale was already shaking his head ‘no’ when Crowley answered. “Not unless you fancy bleeding out of all your orifices and throwing up maggots, no, I can’t.” He brightened up. “I do speak Russian though, is that different enough? 98% less chance of cursing you to eternal damnation.”

Newt nodded. “That’s fine.” His eyes narrowed. “Why only 98%?” Aziraphale was studying Crowley too, a faint smile on his lips.

“Yes, dear, that sounds like you have … experience.”

Crowley looked offended. “Not me personally, no. Not my style. Ages ago, though, Hastur -”

“Ah, Hastur. That explains it.”

“Right, it’s actually kind of a funny story, mostly because Hastur looked like an idiot at the end …”

And so it went, past the time Anathema decided to finally make the spaghetti and found a pot of water miraculously on the stove and boiling, next to a saucepan of what smelled like an absolutely amazing Bolognese sauce, past the meal itself and the subsequent cleanup, and well into the night. The wine bottle did eventually get lighter - eventually - after Newt fell asleep with his head on her shoulder. Aziraphale finished it off, while Crowley sobered up - she still wasn’t used to that - and they stood. “Don’t get up.” Aziraphale waved a hand in her direction as he collected the notebooks, dice, and biscuit plate. “We can find our way to the front door, my dear, I promise.” He wobbled a little. Crowley sighed.

“I can, anyway. Come on, angel.” He slid his arm around Azirphale’s waist, half supporting him and half guiding him, and spared a wave. “Thanks again. Text when you want to do it again.”

“We will.” She blinked, suddenly sleepy, the soft cotton-candy of sweet dreams induced by good red wine already drifting in at the edges of her thinking+. “Hey, sorry, uh, would you mind getting the lights on your way out?”

There was a click of a switch and darkness, followed the distinct sound of Aziraphale stumbling over the mat in the front hall and Crowley catching him. Then the front door, opening, closing, locking (she’d never given them they key, but then again, why bother?). She listened, or tried to stay awake to listen anyway, for the grumble of the Bentley as it pulled out into the night, but she was already asleep against Newt, her fingers laced through his.

* Actual psychic readings - Madame Tracy wished she had been as good as Anathema. Never mind that the bulk of Anathema’s clients were people who wanted to speak with their pets, rather than their relatives.

** Which Crowley and Aziraphale were still skirting, although neither of them would admit it. At least they were finally admitting they were ‘more than best friends’. “Probably even super best friends,” Crowley had told her about a year ago, as he passed her a fatty spliffer.

*** “What if they take it too seriously? What if there’s actual flaming swords again? What if I have to kill Crowley’s character and he banishes me to The Pit?” to which she had responded, “He’s not on speaking terms with Hell anymore, Newt, I doubt he would do much more than curse you or burn Dick Turpin up with Hellfire.” It was a bit mean, but the wailing it had prompted was choice entertainment.

^ Anathema had to consider the gravity of that statement give all they’ve learned in the past 2 years, as well as what it said about her and Newt that neither of them questioned it.

+ The hangover would not be terrible, either, she knew, which made it even better. Not that the wine was so good that you couldn’t get hungover off of it, but, well, she’d been drinking with the angel for a while now. She had in inkling of how it would go.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #anathema device #newton pulsifer #dungeons and dragons #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #good omens fanfiction

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mylonelyangel · 6 years ago

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Good Omens: A Study in Comedy

A couple years ago in my senior year of high school, my English teacher had told us for our last essay of the year, to pick any novel by any notable author, and write about it. I picked Good Omens cause i happened to be reading it at the time, but this essay was legit the most fun I’ve ever had writing an essay. I figured with the show coming out at @neil-gaiman being on tumblr, I might as well post it here were people might enjoy it.

Its about why Good Omens is successful as a comedy. It’s kinda long so it’s gonna go beneath a cut. But yeah here it is. (Also apologies for the formatting I cant figure out how to make this thing readable. rn it looks a lot better on desktop than mobile. Any suggestions on that are welcome)

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In the world of entertainment-- be that film, TV, literature, etc. -- comedy is hard. It’s hard to act, it’s hard to write, and it takes real talent to do comedy well. Often, comedy goes underappreciated in the professional world; however, Good Omens seems to be an exception. In writing the forward to their book, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman describe the many well-read and deteriorating copies of Good Omens that they have had the pleasure of signing. From books dropped in bathtubs and puddles, to pages being held together by packing tape, clearly, the book is well loved by many. The unique quality of this novel is that rather than a “laugh-out-loud” humor, Pratchett and Gaiman aimed for a more subtle, ironic humor adding up to a satire that teaches a lesson on the importance of humanity and compassion. All in all, Good Omens is a delightfully witty and entertaining book that is sure to please any avid reader.

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Biography

It was the year 1989 when Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett decided to combine efforts in writing Good Omens. At the time, Gaiman was 29. He was born in Hampshire UK in 1960 and grew up frequently visiting his local library, developing a life-long love for reading. After briefly pursuing a career in journalism, he soon became interested in writing comic books. The Sandman is one of Gaiman’s most notable graphic novel works. It won several awards including three Harvey Awards, nine Will Eisner Comic Industry Awards, and the 1991 World Fantasy Award for Best Short Story, becoming the first comic to every receive a literary award. After gaining this success, Gaiman has gone on to expand his resume by working in film and television. He’s written and directed two films: A Short Film About John Bolton (2002) and Statueque (2009). Most recently, Gaiman is writing for the television series adaption of his book, American Gods, set to premier on April 30, 2017 on Starz.

Gaiman’s writing companion, Terry Pratchett, was born in Beaconsfield, Buckinghamshire in 1948. He had a passion for writing from a young age, publishing his first story, “The Hades Business” in his school magazine at age thirteen. Four years later at age seventeen, Pratchett dropped out of school to pursue journalism. It was in this line of work that he came into contact with his first publisher, Colin Smythe, and through him published his first book in 1971, The Carpet People. Smythe remained a close friend of Pratchett and in 1983 published the first book of Pratchett’s phenomenally successful series: Discworld. At this time, Pratchett worked for the Central Electricity Generating Board as a press officer. Four books into his Discworld series, Pratchett decided to become a full time writer. After a long and successful career, unfortunately in 2007 Pratchett was diagnosed with a rare form of Alzheimer’s called Posterior Cortical Atrophy. He lived the last years of his life very well; in 2009, he was knighted by the Queen for his services to literature and in 2013 he presented a documentary discussing the controversial topic of assisted dying. Terry Pratchett: Choosing to Die won both an Emmy and a BAFTA. Despite campaigning for assisted dying, Terry did not choose to take his own life and died peacefully surrounded by family in March 2015.

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Extended Analysis

The comedy collaboration Good Omens has been deemed by many to be a great novel. Critics praise the unique blend of writing styles for making this novel a success, but to understand what makes the comedic genius of Good Omens, one must ask what precisely makes it funny. This novel is a satire; it comments on existentialist ideas surrounding humanity and the responsibility humans have over their own actions for better or for worse. In order to emphasize their novel as an unexpectedly witty and socially relevant satire, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett use several literary devices such as repetition, mood, and irony. In a remarkable world belonging to angels and demons who wish to bring about the apocalypse, the air of abnormality must be maintained throughout the novel; comedy only follows naturally.

In order to emphasize the absurdity of the events in Good Omens, the authors often used repetition in describing people or events. Given that this book revolves around the events of Armageddon, absurdity is not hard to come by; it is precisely what enforces the satire nature of the novel. For instance, the Antichrist is first described to the reader as “a golden haired male baby we will call the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of this World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness” (Gaiman 27). Not only does the baby have this long list of titles, but he is referred to as such several more times in the next few pages. This description is a means to bring attention to the oddness of the situation and the repetition serves to emphasize it. Another interesting use of repetition is a scene in which the events of the evening are being narrated by an irritable man named R. P. Tyler; a man who not only believes himself to be the sole decider of right and wrong in the world, but that it is his responsibility to pronounce his wisdom unto others via the letter column of the Tadfield Adviser. This man is the epitome of arrogant old men and on the afternoon of Armageddon, finds himself directing several parties of odd people to the same location. In the eyes of the reader, all of the characters introduced thus far are arriving to the small English town of Tadfield for the start of the apocalypse. The events are rumored to take place at the Lower Tadfield Air Base and in succession, R. P. Tyler encounters four groups of people going to the Airfield within a span of 30 minutes (Gaiman 325-336). The result is a comedic effect that brings all separate storylines back to the same page. The repetition of events is what brought to R. P. Tyler’s attention to the odd occurrences in Tadfield. As the man met group after group, he quickly becomes more flustered and his figurative bubble of normality is cracking until Crowley’s arrival: “There was a large once-black car on fire in the lane and a man in sunglasses was leaning out the window, saying through the smoke “I’m sorry, I’ve managed to get a little lost. Can you direct me to the Lower Tadfield Air Base? I know it’s around here somewhere”” (Gaiman 334). One can safely say that after this event, R. P. Tyler no longer has a figurative bubble of normality.

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One of the highlights of Good Omens is the comical language in which it is written, setting an air for the absurd to be normalized and the mundane to receive an exaggerated retelling. An ambiance of abnormality is maintained throughout the entire novel through methods of over-explaining minute details. For instance, as the first proceedings of Armageddon are set into motion, the scene is set with the following depiction:

“It wasn’t a dark and stormy night. It should have been, but that’s the weather for you. For every mad scientist who’s had a convenient thunderstorm just on the night his Great Work is finished and lying on the slab, there have been dozens who’s sat around aimlessly under the peaceful stars while Igor clocks up the overtime” (Gaiman 14).

This description of the setting contributes to a lighthearted mood despite the impending apocalypse. It feels as though the authors are making polite conversation as the story progresses, and this style of writing is used throughout the novel. Later on, a scene occurs in which a demon kills a room full of telemarketers and the aftermath is described as follows: “. . . a wave of low-grade goodness started to spread exponentially through the population and millions of people who ultimately would not have suffered minor bruises of the soul did not in fact do so” (Gaiman 308). The elegance in which that sentence is written gives the reader a sense of understanding in that the authors are not technically wrong in their description. The line is satirical and for many readers, felt on a personal level. The witty line does not fail in upholding the absurd and exceedingly nonchalant atmosphere. This style brings to light underlying truths of humanity that one may not acknowledge in a day to day basis, but are true nonetheless. Through this recognition of distinctly human emotions and struggles, Gaiman and Pratchett succeed in creating an engaging environment in which the reader is both reflective and entertained by their story.

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The irony in Good Omens lies within the ongoing discussion of humanity and the importance of free will. As Heaven and Hell prepare for Armageddon, the key to its commencement lies in the hands of the Antichrist. However, the Antichrist ends up being much more human than either side predicted. As usual, the demon Crowley and angel Aziraphale come to this conclusion long before their superiors:

““Because if I know anything,” said Crowley urgently, “it’s that the birth is just the start. It’s the upbringing that’s important. It’s the influences. Otherwise it will never learn to use its powers.” . . .

“You’re saying the child isn’t evil of itself?” [Aziraphale] said slowly.

“Potentially evil. Potentially good, too, I suppose. Just this huge powerful potentiality, waiting to be shaped.” said Crowley” (Gaiman 58).

Given that Adam the Antichrist grew up in the absence of any supernatural influence, he naturally became a very pure and innocent child who only wanted save the environment and read conspiracy theory magazines. In fact, unaware of his power and heritage, he was involuntarily at fault for the rise of Atlantis and the visitations of aliens. His deep love for the planet also allowed for his subconscious to grow rain forests in the thick of cities and to turn 500 tons of Uranium into a lemon drop. In a book that satirizes the meanings of good and evil, it is very ironic that the Antichrist has the greatest amount of love to give. As observed by local witch, Anathema: “Something or someone loves this place. Loves every inch of it so powerfully that it shields and protects it. A deep-down, huge, fierce love. How can anything bad start here?” (Gaiman 229). It is reiterated several times throughout the book that humans are their own worst enemy. They are the ones who have free will, therefore they choose whether to act good or evil. Demons and angels have no choice in this respect. Gaiman and Pratchett make clear to their audience that humans must value their free will, spread love and live life to its fullest. If the Antichrist can do it, so can you.

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When reflecting on the comedic success of Good Omens, one can conclude that Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett are masters at their craft. This wonderfully composed work of fiction succeeds in satirizing the inner workings of human nature in that the supernatural can do no worse to humans than humans already do to themselves. Stylistically, Gaiman and Pratchett create a casual environment that highlights the absurd events by using techniques such as irony, mood, and repetition. The result is a clever and profound lesson on the importance of love in the human experience taught not by those who are human, but those who act with the most humanity.

#good omens #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #aziraphale #crowley

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acealistair · 7 years ago

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My D&D Characters

Here are relatively short summaries of all my characters from the campaigns I’m in! It’s worth noting that all these take place in different worlds with different lore.

This got long, of course, so it’s under the cut! :’D If anyone wants to come to my inbox and ask me questions about any of these guys, I’d be totally thrilled!!

Nimue (half-elf thief rogue) Nim, for short. She has a last name but she (and the other members of the party) doesn’t know it yet. She’s quiet and contemplative, as well as a bit fragile (it’s a joke that Nim has to almost die every single battle now, like. PLS), but she can do terrifying amounts of damage with her enchanted shortswords.

In the world of this campaign, humanity consists of nomadic tribes wandering the plains/tundra, and they are almost completely isolated from all other races. Being a half-elf... Nim is an anomaly.

Her human mother left her clan for about a year, returning with the infant that was Nim. She was only able to raise her daughter until she was about five years old before she died of illness, leaving Nim to a clan that wanted nothing to do with her. While no one actively tried to harm her, no one offered to help take care of the child either. After years of living off the scraps of the other clan members, Nim ran away and turned to a life of thievery, traveling from tribe to tribe and stealing what she needed to survive. She became an adventurer on accident after a chance encounter with a human ranger named Baxter. The rest of the adventuring party consists of Reave, a warforged fighter; Vasanti, a naga barbarian; Borin, a dwarf drunken master; Feebris, a star elf bard; and Pastor Dave, a human cleric of Kord. (This is essentially our murder hobo campaign lmao)

Cosette DuPont (human archfey warlock) The sixth and youngest child of the fabulously wealthy DuPont family. Although Cosette is considered the most beautiful of all her siblings, her interests are not centered around finding a suitable spouse; she has a passion for scholarly pursuits and adventure. Having the finest tutors and the support of her older brother Remy, Cosette was able to study anything she liked to her heart’s content. She is the personification of “bubbly” -- she’s extremely cheerful, for the most part, and while she’s highly intelligent when it comes to book-smarts, she’s quite naive and a bit too trusting for her own good.

When she was about 16, Cosette received an ancient book as a present from her parents. Upon studying it, she discovered the instructions for a fey ritual within it that granted her verbal (not visual) contact with a mysterious faery. After talking to the faery for a few months, it offered her great power and, more importantly, knowledge, upon signing a contract. Cosette, believing she was friends with the faery and that it chose her because it liked her, excitedly agreed. She gained the powers of a warlock with the Pact of the Tome, though she does not know that “warlock” is the term.

Remy was the first one she told about her powers. He advised her to not tell their parents, concerned they would not approve, but also helped to convince their parents to send Cosette on an adventure to travel the land with a special (magical) tutor. With this tutor, she learned to use her powers more effectively. Towards the end of their journey, Cosette was separated from her tutor in a foreign town and some con men took advantage of her sweet nature, framing her for a crime she didn’t commit. She was thrown in jail, and breaking out started her true adventuring. Her party consists of Artemis, a tiefling (possibly succubus) bard; Delphine, a human paladin of Trithereon; Osmin, a gnome wizard; Orilo, a goliath barbarian (and companion to Osmin); and Solari, a druid that we don’t actually know the race of yet. Solari pretended to be Remy’s cat for 5 years. Cosette is still dealing with that. Another member who recently dipped out was Quinn, a human gunslinger.

Lirena (Lyrie) Aldavir (half-elf swashbuckler rogue) In this particular world, there are five female goddesses that compose the main pantheon. Two of these goddesses are Fiela and Lirena, who are twins, and are two sides of a coin: Fiela is the goddess of justice and righteousness, while Lirena is the goddess of evil and the underworld. Because of this, twins in this land are seen as omens, the nature of which depends on the appearances of the children. Lyrie (pronounced “leary”) and her sister Fie were unfortunate to not only be born as twins, but with Lyrie having dark, nearly black hair and Fie having light, nearly white hair. Their mother, Lady Dylena Aldavir, was horrified, and was determined to not let such a scandal escape the walls of her estate. Blaming her husband for the existence of the darker-haired twin, he was cast out completely. Lyrie was practically tossed into the stables -- not to die, though, as she could be useful once she was grown. The stablemaster, a man named Patrick who was loyal to the former lord, vowed to take care of the baby. The other twin was accepted by Dylena because of her resemblance to Fiela. Obviously, the twins were named after which goddess they resembled.

Patrick’s wife, Ofell, became Fie’s handmaiden. It quickly became apparent that Dylena was... not the best mother (she’s essentially Mother Gothel from Tangled, not allowing Fie to leave the mansion except on escorted trips and just as manipulative). While Ofell couldn’t do anything directly, she coordinated with Patrick so that Fie and Lyrie were able to see each other regularly and knew they were sisters. Fie was trained to become a cleric of Fiela, the goddess.

Once she was old enough, Lyrie began sneaking out into town, around the docks specifically. Although it was within her power to run away for good, she didn’t, because she wouldn’t leave Fie behind. In town she met a semi-famous pirate named Giselle, who took a liking to Lyrie and began teaching her how to use a rapier and utilize her natural charm to its full potential. Lyrie’s goal is to take Fie away from their abusive mother and live out their lives in peace somewhere far, far away.

Lyrie is usually seen as level-headed and practical, but she is actually highly motivated by her emotions beneath the cool exterior. She’s a bit cynical about the world and most people, and usually sticks to a policy of minding her own business. Once she makes friends, though, she trusts them implicitly.

Around when the twins turned 21, Fie received a vision from her goddess, telling her to venture out on a quest and to take Lyrie with her. Dylena allowed this because Fie’s contact with a goddess gave house Aldavir a good reputation. Lyrie found it unsettling that a goddess would single her out, but she agreed to go because 1) Fie is very sheltered and would certainly need protecting out in the real world and 2) it was a chance to enact her plan to escape.

Soon it became clear that Lyrie wasn’t going to be able to get away with running away: the apocalypse is on the horizon, and if that’s not taken care of first, Lyrie won’t be alive to live out her dream. The other members of the party are Cassian, an eldritch knight who is also the queen’s right-hand guard; Odahviig, a dragonborn monk (who really loves cheese); and Finnan, a halfling bard who also happens to have been recently turned into a revenant.

Cyril (high elf life cleric)

Cyril has a last name, but he’s purposefully keeping it a secret. He’s extremely compassionate and his mission is to help anyone and everyone who isn’t evil, mainly by way of his healing powers. He has a bit of a murky past -- he comes from a background of wealth, but that’s all people can really gather about him; he has made a point of abandoning whatever that life was in favor of traveling the world and spreading kindness, promoting peace, and providing aid. Cyril is atoning for something, but outside of his homeland, only he knows exactly what for. (I gotta keep it a secret from the other party members, some of who are here on Tumblr, so I can’t elaborate too much!)

We haven’t done too many sessions for this campaign, but so far we’ve been trapped in a super duper creepy labyrinth and are trying to find our way out. The other members of Cyril’s party are Borgak, a half-orc barbarian mercenary; Priscilla, a doll-like warforged bard; and Stannis, a human artificer (who helped create Priscilla and therefore claims she’s his daughter and is extremely protective of her).

#I FINALLY FINISHED THIS AHHH SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG #cosette dupont #lyrie aldavir #/#//#cyril #nimue

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samanthasroberts · 6 years ago

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5 Awesome Game Sequels That Were Screwed Over & Canned

Death, taxes, and AAA video game sequels: the only inevitable things in this world. If we didn’t get a new Call Of Duty or Assassin’s Creed this year, we would take it as an omen of Ragnarok — which is why it’s all the more tragic that some of the best potential sequels ever envisioned will never come to pass. Like …

#5. Fallout Online Got Lost In A Legal Quagmire

Long before Fallout 4 brought the mighty porn industry to its knees, pun remorselessly intended, the Fallout games put a lot more emphasis on the role-playing side of things, giving you a birds-eye view of a game that looks like it could be run with the processing power of an unusually large potato.

Not even an Idaho one — more like a Wisconsin-grown potato.

The early Fallout games were considered some of the finest RPGs ever made. But in 2007, Interplay, its creator, sold the franchise to Bethesda Softworks, the company of 10,000 artists and three voice actors. Part of the deal was that Interplay got to keep the rights to develop an MMO based on Fallout — think World Of Warcraft, but with super mutants instead of orcs.

A huge improvement on the sexiness scale.

This wasn’t just a pipe dream — large chunks of the map had been developed, the guts of the gameplay were functional, scenarios had been written, players had the ability to create and run their own towns, and Interplay had developed a “game-worldwide meta-puzzle,” where the entire player base would have to come together to solve an elaborate mystery that spanned the apocalypse. Basically, you know how all your friends won’t shut up about their Fallout 4 adventures? Fallout Online would have allowed you to have those adventures together, although it also would have vastly increased the likelihood of employers across the country seeing through your fake illness when you inadvertently grouped up with them.

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

That deal we mentioned? It came with the condition that Interplay had to start getting serious about working on Fallout Online by 2009. All those words we just said up there implied that they had, but Bethesda disagreed and took Interplay to court. Long and complicated story short, Bethesda lost more decisions than the Washington Generals, but eventually managed to settle out of court, giving Interplay 2 million bucks and permission to continue developing their game — as long as they stripped every mention of “Fallout” from it.

Their knock-off Nuka-Cola would have been nothing but raw sewage and carbonated Brahmin blood … So, Pepsi.

Definitely Not Fallout Online was then handed over to another developer who ran a crowdfunding campaign to rustle up even more money, after which they, uh, vanished from the face of the Earth, taking every hope of a Fallout MMO with them (and also the money of all those loyal fans).

Dickheads? Dickheads never change.

#4. A Completed Star Fox 2 Was Canned Because Of The Console Wars

Star Fox, the game that birthed a generation of furries, and Star Fox 64, the game that birthed a generation of frog-hating barrel roll enthusiasts, are both universally regarded as classic Nintendo games that look like the aftermath of a drunken polygon party by today’s standards. But another game was supposed to have come out in-between them, appropriately titled Star Fox 2. And it looked pretty damn good …

Instead of just being a linear series of ship battles, Star Fox 2 would have had you flying around the solar system to contain an invasion force. You had to pick your battles, defend your home planet from missiles, and retreat from fights to dive into others that needed you more, adding strategy and exploration to a game whose only weak point was its on-rails nature. There was also a multiplayer duel option, and the Star Fox team would have expanded to include a tomboy lynx and a fashionable poodle girl. And we think everyone can agree that the male-dominated Star Fox team needed some ladies to balance out the space combat gender gap and help guide some animal-loving players through a very special time in their lives.

Someone’s about to make a Slippy in their pants.

Once you tear your eyes away, you may start wondering why basically everything is known about a game that got the ax. Well, the game was all finished and set to be released in the summer of 1995 until it was abruptly cancelled, which is like watching your mom pull a fresh batch of chocolate-chip cookies out of the oven, only to dump them in the garbage bin and cover them with cat vomit.

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

Star Fox 2 was all set to be a hit, partially because Nintendo in the ’90s could have slapped their name on a box of venomous centipedes and still sold a million copies. But, the Nintendo 64 was about to come out, and Nintendo wanted a clean break between the Super Nintendo’s two dimensions and the N64’s bold new future of one more than that.

A strategy that never, ever bit them in the ass. Ever.

Also, the Sega Saturn and Sony PlayStation had just come out, and Nintendo was worried that their newfangled 3D games would make Star Fox 2 look shitty and old-fashioned by comparison, regardless of how fun it was. And so they pulled the plug, losing money and scuttling a couple years of hard work because graphics were more important than gameplay, even in an era when every 3D game you played made you feel like you had cyber-glaucoma.

Rats, in this case, being Nintendo’s accountants.

#3. Fez 2 Became The Casualty Of A Twitter Spat

Indie game Fez, whose tumultuous five-year development earned its own Wikipedia page, was primarily powered by designer Phil Fish, who was quite outspoken about how game design may not always be kitten snuggles and rainbows. But, Fez overcame long odds to sell more than a million copies and become highly regarded as an ingenious platforming puzzle game. A sequel seemed inevitable, and, sure enough, along came a teaser video with suitably epic music …

… and then Fish canned the game a month after announcing it, to the complete shock of everyone who wasn’t named Phil Fish.

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

When Fish refused to comment on Microsoft’s new Xbox One indie game development policies, obscure gaming journalist Marcus Beer decided that this was an egregious affront against humanity. Beer said Fish was “bitching and moaning” about having to answer media questions. He also called Fish a “fucking asshole,” a “fucking hipster,” and a “tosspot,” which we’re pretty sure is British for something along the lines of “not a great dude.” Fish responded on Twitter in the most mature and responsible way that platform allows: by telling Beer to go kill himself.

Yet another stupid fight started with Beer consumption.

When the dust settled, Fish declared, “I fucking hate this industry,” cancelled the game, announced his exit from game development, and took his ball home.

Leaving disappointed fans to tell him where he could put it.

Fish later clarified that the cancellation of Fez 2 wasn’t “due to any one thing,” implying that Beer’s comments were simply the straw that broke the fish’s back.

… said the boorish fuck.

But, regardless of other contributing factors, it was a stupid Twitter spat that ultimately killed the game. Seriously, social media, is there anything you don’t ruin?

#2. A Mario Volleyball Game Was Cancelled For Violating A Vague Honor Code

Mario is one of the greatest athletes to ever fictionally exist. From golf, tennis, and go-karting to baseball, basketball, and more, he has mastered countless sports, despite looking like his favorite is amateur hot dog eating. So, when Next Level Gamers started working on a Mario volleyball game with the premise of “Hey, Mario hasn’t played volleyball yet,” they must have felt pretty good about their odds of success — especially since they had already made their mark with two Super Mario Strikers games that were praised for combining the tedium of soccer with the physics of Space Jam.

At least it gives Waluigi something to do in between bouts of never doing anything.

Then, they threw in elements of professional wrestling and game shows to make the weirdest hybrid this side of a stoner’s kitchen. Nintendo’s beloved characters were going to spike balls into faces and pile-drive each other into the floors of electrified rings in the insane genre mash-up you never knew you wanted. At best, it would have been a glorious, surreal combination of ideas that monopolized your weekends like so many go-kart races and tennis matches before it. And, at worst, it would have provided fleeting amusement before your inevitable demise, which is all we can really ask of a video game.

It honestly makes about as much sense as actual wrestling, so why not?

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

Nintendo felt that “certain aspects of [the game’s] premise clashed with the company’s code of honor,” because Nintendo apparently operates under the same principles as the French Foreign Legion. Just what Nintendo meant is vague, but we do know that they were uncomfortable with the level of violence in the game and considered it “dishonorable” to be able to hit characters that were already down. Behold the incredible, stomach-churning combat that Nintendo found unsettling:

What happened to wholesome entertainment, like ripping turtles out of their shells and slowly digesting Goombas alive?

Their objections mostly just raise further questions, considering one of their most successful franchises is all about having their most popular characters mercilessly pummel the absolute shit out of each other. Maybe volleyball is just really unpopular in Japan. Or, maybe the video game industry is terrifyingly arbitrary, and it’s a wonder anything ever gets made at all. Or, maybe both!

#1. Silent Hills Was Cancelled Because Konami Thinks Mobile Gaming Is The Future

Doubly so if they included an alternate skin of his fashion model days.

The hype train gained further steam with the release of P.T., a playable teaser (oooh, we just got that), where you stroll through the same hallway repeatedly and watch your home slowly get more and more horrifying.

Home Alone took a dark turn once Kevin found Buzz’s stash of mushrooms.

There was no combat, almost no dialogue, a simple plot, and little interaction beyond discovering what fucked-up thing was now in your bathroom. And it was still widely considered one of the best horror games of the year. That’s like a movie trailer beating actual movies for the Best Picture Oscar. It was a legitimately terrifying experience and, if the full game was able to match its intensity, it would have been an instant classic.

“Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to devour my flesh and feast on my soul.”

And then it was cancelled, the ability to download P.T. was removed, and developer Konami is now hunting down anyone who still references its existence and sending them to re-education camps. Run! Save yourself, before it’s too late!

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

Konami thinks traditional games just aren’t worth the effort anymore. This is the Silent Hill game they decided to make instead.

Yes, that’s a Silent Hill-themed slot machine set to music that’s rocking junior high schools across Midwest America. We completely understand if you need a minute for the tears to stop. Konami actually makes more money from their casino games than they do from video games, and they think mobile games represent the only profitable future in the latter department.

Three Pyramid Heads nets you 50,000 points and your grandma’s head on a pike.

OK, so it’s a cold yet rational business decision. Disappointing, but understandable. But, wait a second — Metal Gear Solid V, a game that was anticipated as much as Silent Hills, made more money in its opening weekend than Jurassic World and Avengers: Age Of Ultron. Combined. It’s a massive hit, leaving Konami’s logic inscrutable. Between deciding they don’t like making games anymore, cutting ties with long-time collaborator Kojima, and making Del Toro say that he’ll never work on a video game again, it’s like Konami’s having a midlife crisis where they quit their job, divorce their spouse, alienate their friends, and hit the open road on a brand-new type of motorcycle that runs solely on spite.

Ready to see the kind of shit we got instead? Then check out Seanbaby’s The 20 Worst NES Games Of All-Time and The 6 Worst Games Ever Farted Out By Beloved Franchises.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/5-awesome-game-sequels-that-were-screwed-over-canned-2/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/07/25/5-awesome-game-sequels-that-were-screwed-over-canned-2/

0 notes

allofbeercom · 6 years ago

Text

5 Awesome Game Sequels That Were Screwed Over & Canned

#5. Fallout Online Got Lost In A Legal Quagmire

Not even an Idaho one — more like a Wisconsin-grown potato.

A huge improvement on the sexiness scale.

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

Their knock-off Nuka-Cola would have been nothing but raw sewage and carbonated Brahmin blood … So, Pepsi.

Dickheads? Dickheads never change.

#4. A Completed Star Fox 2 Was Canned Because Of The Console Wars

Someone’s about to make a Slippy in their pants.

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

A strategy that never, ever bit them in the ass. Ever.

Rats, in this case, being Nintendo’s accountants.

#3. Fez 2 Became The Casualty Of A Twitter Spat

… and then Fish canned the game a month after announcing it, to the complete shock of everyone who wasn’t named Phil Fish.

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

Yet another stupid fight started with Beer consumption.

When the dust settled, Fish declared, “I fucking hate this industry,” cancelled the game, announced his exit from game development, and took his ball home.

Leaving disappointed fans to tell him where he could put it.

Fish later clarified that the cancellation of Fez 2 wasn’t “due to any one thing,” implying that Beer’s comments were simply the straw that broke the fish’s back.

… said the boorish fuck.

But, regardless of other contributing factors, it was a stupid Twitter spat that ultimately killed the game. Seriously, social media, is there anything you don’t ruin?

#2. A Mario Volleyball Game Was Cancelled For Violating A Vague Honor Code

At least it gives Waluigi something to do in between bouts of never doing anything.

It honestly makes about as much sense as actual wrestling, so why not?

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

What happened to wholesome entertainment, like ripping turtles out of their shells and slowly digesting Goombas alive?

#1. Silent Hills Was Cancelled Because Konami Thinks Mobile Gaming Is The Future

Doubly so if they included an alternate skin of his fashion model days.

Home Alone took a dark turn once Kevin found Buzz’s stash of mushrooms.

“Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to devour my flesh and feast on my soul.”

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

Konami thinks traditional games just aren’t worth the effort anymore. This is the Silent Hill game they decided to make instead.

Three Pyramid Heads nets you 50,000 points and your grandma’s head on a pike.

Ready to see the kind of shit we got instead? Then check out Seanbaby’s The 20 Worst NES Games Of All-Time and The 6 Worst Games Ever Farted Out By Beloved Franchises.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/5-awesome-game-sequels-that-were-screwed-over-canned-2/

0 notes

pardontheglueman · 7 years ago

Text

Marching Through the Streets of Rhydyfelin

A response to The Wales Arts Review’s Roundtable discussion

Pop Music: Searching for the young soul rebels- why has pop given up on politics.

For an unreconstructed Socialist, who is also a passionate believer in the power of protest music, this opening discussion promised to be the ideal way to launch The Wales Arts Review’s much anticipated Millennium Centre symposium. The inclusion of Rhian E Jones (Critic and author of Clampdown: Pop-Cultural Wars on Class and Gender), Richard Parfitt (Songwriter / Former member of 60ft Dolls and senior lecturer in Music and Performing Arts, Bath Spa University) and Gray Taylor (writer and member of Goldie Lookin’ Chain), on a panel to be chaired by our very own Craig Austin, promised a forensic examination of a key cultural question. We seemed in safe hands, what could go wrong?

Perhaps the writing was on the wall, even before the debate began. Following Adrian Masters and Adam Somerset’s warmly received introductory remarks, most of the critics present decided to take up the undoubtedly tempting option of attending the launch of The Wales Arts Review’s excellent ‘Fiction Map Of Wales’ anthology in an adjoining room. It was immediately noticeable how many younger critics had joined the exodus – further proof perhaps of youthful dis-engagement with politics, or pop, or both? A quick glance around the Victor Salvi Function Room revealed that just three dozen or so hardy souls had remained behind to man the barricades.

I wasn’t altogether surprised. The evening before, I had cast my bread upon the listless waters of the internet, randomly pitching phrases into the all-powerful search engine like ‘Why pop isn’t political anymore?’ or ‘Why isn’t pop angry?’, to be met by and large, with barely a ripple upon the stagnant pond of political discourse. An inexact science for sure, but somewhat discouraging, nevertheless.There was the obligatory rallying call by Billy Bragg, but little else. A piece in Village Voice, from 2006, another American piece ‘Apocalypse Then: Why Rock isn’t angry any more’, dating from 2010, a short analysis by Smashing Pumpkin’s frontman Billy Corgan, headed ‘Billy Corgan thinks rock isn’t reaching teenagers anymore’ and, lastly, a blog by John Robb, ‘Why politics and music don’t mix anymore’, which provided a glimmer of hope, or, at least one heartfelt response to it did -

‘Well maybe some people just aren’t trying

We are

Hack attack

We just put it out today,

Suburban Mousewife

This seemed to warrant investigation. A quick search revealed a promising list of song titles that made explicit the radical, feminist protest music, I could expect to hear – ‘Botox Skin’, ‘Shopping’, ‘Gulags for Slags’, while their handful of youtube videos unveiled an all-girl, multi-racial, five-piece combo, playing a spiky brand of garage rock, behind a lead singer wielding a mean tambourine. It looked and sounded too good to be true, and indeed it was. A quick glance at their facebook page revealed the following message, dated 13th Feb 2013:

‘Big thanks to all you lovely people for your support. The band is on an extended break at the moment.’

An ill omen perhaps? The waste of a bloody excellent band name, certainly.

Suburban Mousewife

Disappointingly, the panel’s discussion never really got past first base, partly as a result of unavoidable time constraints, but mainly because the debate was strangely sidetracked into a cultural cul de sac which, to paraphrase Dylan, might best be termed Stuck inside of Newport, with the Bristol blues again. This amiable detour down memory lane was entertaining enough in its own right, but did little to address the wider political context the panel was supposed to be engaging with. Craig and Rhian tried bravely to steer the discussion away from the confines of South East Wales with a perceptive analysis of Ben Drew’s ‘Ill Manors,’ a genuinely threatening pop-protest song. Unfortunately, the forum never quite re-focused itself on the central proposition.

Incredibly, the whole debate passed by without any reference to the current political landscape. For the best part of twenty years, the mainstream political parties have been busy stealing each other’s clothes, cross-dressing their way to the mythical centre ground of British Politics. The Tories actually went into the last General Election with a manifesto commitment to ring-fence spending on the NHS, something which Labour, its creator and proud champion, steadfastly refused to do. Furthermore, the coalition between Britain’s then most right-wing and left-wing mainstream parties, desperately cobbled together after the last election, has increasingly served to apply a brake to radical dissent. It’s in this context of unprincipled allegiances and bipartisan accommodations, that the weak-kneed response of today’s musicians can best be understood. Equally, the genuine prospect of this now fragile consensus being smashed apart at the next election by UKIP, and how this just might kick-start a slumbering protest movement into action, went altogether unexplored. It’s entirely possible that the resurrection of Rock against Racism, (the historical significance of which was barely mentioned), may now be more than this 52 yr old pop fan’s ultimate fantasy. In a fevered post-election climate, where the race card will not only be played, but undoubtedly dealt from the bottom of the pack too, an imaginative grassroots resistance could take many forms. Rap against Racism, anyone?

Similarly, Two–Tone, another protest movement with its roots in the politics of race, was never mentioned at all, despite it arguably producing the greatest pop protest song of all time – The Special’s number 1 hit,’ Ghost Town’. Indeed, UB40, a band on the fringes of Two-Tone, charted regularly at the time, with the most radical sequence of songs ever to infiltrate the playlists of mainstream radio. Between March 1980 and August 1981 the band scored five top twenty hits with songs about Third world starvation; ‘Food For Thought’, Racism in America; ‘King’, Nuclear war; ‘Earth Dies Screaming’, Atheism; ‘Don’t Let It Pass You By’, and Mass Unemployment; ‘One In Ten’.

Plausible reasons for the decline of political pop were flagged up, but not followed up, (the immediacy of the internet as a first preference for those with a personal manifesto, and conventional record company insouciance, being amongst the most convincing explanations.) At the same time, rather too much of the discussion was given over to boxing Ed Sheeran about the ears, not that he didn’t deserve it following his cringe-worthy attempts to gladhand David Cameron at a recent gig. Even here, though, the chance was missed to broaden the discussion, by asking tough questions about why the recent folk revival was so insipid and non-political in nature.

Even where the discussion briefly came to life - every one of the panelists made perceptive comments about the impact of Brit Pop, and particularly the best song to come out of it, Pulp’s ‘Common People’- the theme could not be sustained. In all fairness, I should acknowledge here, the herculean nature of this particular task. It was a time after all, when Tony Blair was ruthlessly triangulating dissident opinion out of existence, constructing New Labour’s big tent, in which there was room for everyone, except Socialists of course. This was an age when there wasn’t any politics in politics, never mind in popular music.

Pop Music may be a young person’s game, but in the year when Pete Seeger passed away, where was the discussion about the role of the elder statesman in popular culture? Billy Bragg, our Seeger, justly escapes censure, but with Springsteen and Young still energetically campaigning in the USA, what do we make of Weller and Costello’s extended leave of absence from the front?

Admittedly, not everything could have been covered in the allotted 50 minutes, though it was clearly a mistake to guillotine the Q&A at the end, where some of these issues might have been taken up. The critic who ignored Craig’s genuine apology, and rattled off her question about the dominance of ex-public school pupils in today’s chart, caused quite a stir. I too, would have liked the chance to ask whether anybody had actually heard of Suburban Mousewife, and if not, whose fault would that have been - the band’s, the mediums or ourselves (in our guise as both critic and consumer)? Or, I might have posited my pet theory that The Mighty Sparrow’s 1983 Soca classic, ‘Capitalism Gone Mad’, a diatribe about the cost of living crisis in Trinidad, if re-released now, in an age of economic meltdown, might just be the spark that ignites a world-wide revolution. The first verse alone, is enough to persuade me to get the red flag down from the attic, dust it off and start waving it about the streets of Rhydyfelin-

‘You got to be a millionaire or some kind of petit-bourgeoisie

Any time you’re living here in this country

You got to be in skulduggery, or making money illicitly

To live like somebody in this country

It’s outrageous and insane, them crazy prices in the Port Of Spain

And like the merchants going out dey brain

And the working man, like he only toiling in vain.’

The Mighty Sparrow - Champion of the Oppressed

Finally, though the panel saw little cause for optimism, the radicalisation of Scottish Youth in the referendum campaign has apparently made little impression on our guests, there is every prospect of a generational re-engagement with politics. The next election could be something of a watershed for Wales. A crass marriage of convenience between UKIP and the Tories could see things turn ugly very quickly. The cheap shot mantra “English votes for English laws”, has the potential to disseminate the seeds of division throughout the UK, which in all probability, will be seriously destabilised by massive constitutional change and the endless re-packaging of austerity. More positively though, a space seems to be opening up on the left, that an enlightened Green Party are well positioned to occupy.

England might be on the verge of electing the most right-wing Government in its history, at the exact same time that the people of Scotland are voting into office its most left-wing Parliament. Trapped in the vacuum, between two opposing philosophies, Wales will have to forge a new identity for itself. The conditions will then exist for freshly radicalised, free-thinking artists, to do the same.

0 notes

globlenet-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Trump and Brexit add yet more spice to Ryder Cups theatres of cultural war | Marina Hyde

https://clearwatergolfclub.com/trump-and-brexit-add-yet-more-spice-to-ryder-cups-theatres-of-cultural-war-marina-hyde/

Trump and Brexit add yet more spice to Ryder Cups theatres of cultural war | Marina Hyde

It’s outstanding that within an event in which the sport is really electrifying, golf is just a plot tool and Hazeltine promises more multi-faceted conflict than ever before

Even in additional couch potatoes recent occasions, the Ryder Cup happens to be the fiercest culture war in most sport. America versus Europe. People in comparison to the team. Lone baby wolves in comparison to the pack. Unabombers versus cells. Sex addiction versus sex. It is extremely outstanding, within an event in which the sport is frequently so electrifying, it should rarely achieve even more than the amount of a plot device within the wider story.

This season, it’s fair to state, there are other angles than ever before. Actually, there are plenty of angles that the Gabriel Byrne character in Millers Crossing couldnt discover their whereabouts all. Brexit. Trump. Watching the united states vice-captain Tiger Forest watch golf. The implications from the development in rightwing radical populism for individuals crucial componen fives. And, obviously, all of the Ryder Cup basics: religion, secularism, conservatism, progressivism, the function people militarism inside a quickly altering world, which continent has got the most exquisite manners. Individuals babies simply be standard.

As nobody needs reminding, the United kingdom this summer voted to disengage in the continent of Seve Ballesteros and cleave to itself because the land of Nick Faldo. Or, as appears rather more prone to transpire, the land of Colin Montgomerie. Consequently, some have jokingly recommended the Ryder Cup itself be restored to the pre-1973 format, which would be to say The Uk in comparison to the Usa. Yet, given ongoing developments both in individuals jurisdictions, you will see many all over the world whod see that tie and find it difficult to work through a effective desire to have there to become two losers. And when I might place it into context for individuals who wouldnt: it might be free airline Germany-Argentina final that no one really wants to see.

Rather, both USA and Europe sides descend on Hazeltine National Golf Club in Minnesota in a few days. The Americans have embroidered the motto 12 strong to their package I suppose that even today the ecu gear has been machined using the words Beyond Brexit.

IMG 2 TT

Ian Poulter celebrates after Europe pull of their Miracle of Medinah in 2012 the last Ryder Cup hosted by the United States. Photograph: Andy Lyons/Getty Images

Fortunately, the US PGA tour has spared itself the ultimate shitstorm, which would have been the event having been long-scheduled to take place at a course owned by apocalypse-beckoning US presidential hopeful Donald Trump. For a long time, this looked like an accident rather than moral design. After all, they went ahead with Marchs WGC-Cadillac Championship at Trump Doral in Miami regardless of the litany of -isms committed by their host in almost any given 24-hour period. By June, a couple of 1000 -isms later, the US PGA was finally minded to report that sponsorship problems meant the coming year, exactly the same tournament would be played in Mexico, of pointed relocations.

Not too an american win at Hazeltine won’t be grabbed upon by Trump as some electoral omen for Americas impending being-made-great-again. Under President Trump, pointless to state, all Ryder Cups is going to be won through the US.

So far as Trump support inside the US Ryder Cup side goes, it’s possible to only speculate regarding quite the number of players will dsicover his interests and worldview align with their own. We all do realize that Jack Nicklaus originates out for Trump, declaring him a great man. I love what Jesse has been doing, Nicklaus continued a couple of several weeks ago. I love that hes turning America upside lower. Hes awakening the nation. Whether that’s the majority PGA meaning of automobile is unclear though we all do possess some helpful Sports Highlighted data. Each year, the publication polls tour pros on the health of anonymity, which enables these to speak more freely compared to constraints of wealth and hardwired self-interest typically allow. Stop me in case your own non-scientific guesses already confirmed this for you, however this year it found inter alia that 56% of PGA respondents wouldnt election for Hillary if she halved their taxes, while Trump was most supported within the Republican primary race.

When it comes to European aspect, that offers to bring the angst. The next day of the referendum election, the ecu Tour announced the Ryder Cup team would be flying the EU flag, although it did provide a hint on where it was around the result having a slightly sniffy statement: Like several global companies whose headquarters have been in the United kingdom, this ran, we’re now while assessing the implications for the business.

When the Europeans win, you can be certain theyll be viewed denoting something or any other. Because the British gold medals rained in throughout the Rio Olympic games, the Leave.EU campaign lost virtually no time in putting out an advert featuring all of the winners, suggesting their sporting success in some way demonstrated the United kingdom didn’t have necessity of the EU to achieve success. A category mistake, and something that caused the cyclist Callum Skinner to keep these things stop using his image. We shall need to decide if any United kingdom golfers are gone to live in perform the same when they are similarly co-opted in case of a eu Ryder Cup victory. In case of a eu loss, obviously, you will see remainers quick to ascribe it to some doomy sign the fellowship is really terminally scattered that people cant even beat the Yanks within the Ryder Cup anymore.

There’s more, obviously a lot more as well as for some, golf isn’t an appropriate spot for such multi-faceted conflicts to experience out. For me personally, there’s no better. No safer. Let’s gird our loins, and still have virtually no time for individuals who wrongly think of the Ryder Cup to become a good war spoiled.

Find out more: https://www.theguardian.com/sport/blog/2016/sep/21/ryder-cup-donald-trump-brexit-usa-europe

#Donald Trump #Golf #Ryder Cup #Sport #US sports

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samanthasroberts · 7 years ago

Text

5 Awesome Game Sequels That Were Screwed Over & Canned

#5. Fallout Online Got Lost In A Legal Quagmire

Not even an Idaho one — more like a Wisconsin-grown potato.

A huge improvement on the sexiness scale.

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

Their knock-off Nuka-Cola would have been nothing but raw sewage and carbonated Brahmin blood … So, Pepsi.

Dickheads? Dickheads never change.

#4. A Completed Star Fox 2 Was Canned Because Of The Console Wars

Someone’s about to make a Slippy in their pants.

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

A strategy that never, ever bit them in the ass. Ever.

Rats, in this case, being Nintendo’s accountants.

#3. Fez 2 Became The Casualty Of A Twitter Spat

… and then Fish canned the game a month after announcing it, to the complete shock of everyone who wasn’t named Phil Fish.

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

Yet another stupid fight started with Beer consumption.

When the dust settled, Fish declared, “I fucking hate this industry,” cancelled the game, announced his exit from game development, and took his ball home.

Leaving disappointed fans to tell him where he could put it.

Fish later clarified that the cancellation of Fez 2 wasn’t “due to any one thing,” implying that Beer’s comments were simply the straw that broke the fish’s back.

… said the boorish fuck.

But, regardless of other contributing factors, it was a stupid Twitter spat that ultimately killed the game. Seriously, social media, is there anything you don’t ruin?

#2. A Mario Volleyball Game Was Cancelled For Violating A Vague Honor Code

At least it gives Waluigi something to do in between bouts of never doing anything.

It honestly makes about as much sense as actual wrestling, so why not?

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

What happened to wholesome entertainment, like ripping turtles out of their shells and slowly digesting Goombas alive?

#1. Silent Hills Was Cancelled Because Konami Thinks Mobile Gaming Is The Future

Doubly so if they included an alternate skin of his fashion model days.

Home Alone took a dark turn once Kevin found Buzz’s stash of mushrooms.

“Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to devour my flesh and feast on my soul.”

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

Konami thinks traditional games just aren’t worth the effort anymore. This is the Silent Hill game they decided to make instead.

Three Pyramid Heads nets you 50,000 points and your grandma’s head on a pike.

Ready to see the kind of shit we got instead? Then check out Seanbaby’s The 20 Worst NES Games Of All-Time and The 6 Worst Games Ever Farted Out By Beloved Franchises.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/5-awesome-game-sequels-that-were-screwed-over-canned/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/05/01/5-awesome-game-sequels-that-were-screwed-over-canned/

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allofbeercom · 7 years ago

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5 Awesome Game Sequels That Were Screwed Over & Canned

#5. Fallout Online Got Lost In A Legal Quagmire

Not even an Idaho one — more like a Wisconsin-grown potato.

A huge improvement on the sexiness scale.

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

Their knock-off Nuka-Cola would have been nothing but raw sewage and carbonated Brahmin blood … So, Pepsi.

Dickheads? Dickheads never change.

#4. A Completed Star Fox 2 Was Canned Because Of The Console Wars

Someone’s about to make a Slippy in their pants.

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

A strategy that never, ever bit them in the ass. Ever.

Rats, in this case, being Nintendo’s accountants.

#3. Fez 2 Became The Casualty Of A Twitter Spat

… and then Fish canned the game a month after announcing it, to the complete shock of everyone who wasn’t named Phil Fish.

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

Yet another stupid fight started with Beer consumption.

When the dust settled, Fish declared, “I fucking hate this industry,” cancelled the game, announced his exit from game development, and took his ball home.

Leaving disappointed fans to tell him where he could put it.

Fish later clarified that the cancellation of Fez 2 wasn’t “due to any one thing,” implying that Beer’s comments were simply the straw that broke the fish’s back.

… said the boorish fuck.

But, regardless of other contributing factors, it was a stupid Twitter spat that ultimately killed the game. Seriously, social media, is there anything you don’t ruin?

#2. A Mario Volleyball Game Was Cancelled For Violating A Vague Honor Code

At least it gives Waluigi something to do in between bouts of never doing anything.

It honestly makes about as much sense as actual wrestling, so why not?

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

What happened to wholesome entertainment, like ripping turtles out of their shells and slowly digesting Goombas alive?

#1. Silent Hills Was Cancelled Because Konami Thinks Mobile Gaming Is The Future

Doubly so if they included an alternate skin of his fashion model days.

Home Alone took a dark turn once Kevin found Buzz’s stash of mushrooms.

“Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to devour my flesh and feast on my soul.”

The Stupid Reason It Was Cancelled:

Konami thinks traditional games just aren’t worth the effort anymore. This is the Silent Hill game they decided to make instead.

Three Pyramid Heads nets you 50,000 points and your grandma’s head on a pike.

Ready to see the kind of shit we got instead? Then check out Seanbaby’s The 20 Worst NES Games Of All-Time and The 6 Worst Games Ever Farted Out By Beloved Franchises.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/5-awesome-game-sequels-that-were-screwed-over-canned/

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