#destiny veteran

[im-adrienne]

Gaming Question

1. I'm awake.

2. I am a Destiny 1 vanilla veteran (Killed Oryx with a Titan slam) + played a little bit of D2 (didn't care for Lightfall AT ALL).

*whispers* Should I get back into Destiny 2?

[baede-6]

Every time I play on my warlock, as a Hunter main, whenever I jump, all I can think is "How do I drive this thing?"

It's not even a jump really, it's more like falling with style.

[blackwaxidol]

The Light's most stoic and disciplined warriors...

[flesh-into--gear]

i keep getting best dressed awards in iron banana and i legit think it’s because i somehow still have faction gear

[thefirstknife]

Big fan of what I read in the thingy about plans for the exotic mission rotator, most of it sounds very solid to me

However

Since the focus seems to be on making the relevant exotic weapon craftable, do you think this makes it less likely we'll get whisper of the worm or zero hour back? Outbreak seems like it wouldnt be broken as a crafted but I cant imagine Whisper as crafted, that feels like a dangerous can of worms.

And also, as it seems unlikely Ada or Black Armory will have a story spotlight again, how would you feel about Niobe Labs getting reworked into an exotic mission, dropping craftable izanagi or le monarque, craftable black armory weapons, and then maybe some of those nifty modified foundry weapons but of the post-witch queen ones.

I thought about that too, specifically the potential to get Zero Hour and Whisper back with craftable Outbreak and Whisper. I really like the idea of craftable exotics with these missions and this idea would be the only real reason to bring back Zero Hour and Whisper. But how viable are they to be craftable is beyond me. I think in some way it might help, especially for Whisper, but on the other, it could make them too powerful, in this case for Outbreak. Balancing that would be incredibly difficult.

I'd like to see those missions returning however! Even if they don't want to make these weapons craftable. I just feel like they won't really bother going through that work if nothing of value can be added. A lot of people say that they want them back, but in reality they would not have much replayability without something to chase. They also might be too frustrating at this point; the Wicked Implement exotic mission being timed was a major point of frustration for a lot of people. But I would 100% enjoy seeing them back, with or without craftable exotics. In a way, it almost makes it more likely because at first it just made no sense to return those missions when the exotics are in the kiosk, but if they're going to be changed in some way, then it makes more sense. It's just on whether or not those two are viable for such a change.

Same thoughts on Ada and Black Armory. I think they did say at one point that they're looking into returning some old weapons, specifically Black Armory and Season of Dawn stuff, but so far we've not heard anything more about it. Your idea would be really cool. Reworking Niobe's Labs into a mission and adding a craftable Black Armory exotic would be really neat. No clue how likely that is to happen though; as of now, I'm thinking not very. But now that we know this stuff with exotic missions is possible, it's a neat possibility.

[warderfromtheborder]

I spent three hours today helping a renewed acquaintance get back into destiny. He played through D1 to just before Shadowkeep (his fit was all leviathan gear and I was super jelly), and I had to figure out what I actually needed to figure out to explain to him to catch him up to be able to play.

Anyway; three hours. Half that time was in missions actually playing, and half that time was me helping him navigate menus and popups.

I get now (better understand, at least) why some folks are so comfortable shitting on Bungie the company over this game. There is so much poorly designed UI and confounding quest structure and information that appears only in HUD obscuring popups that disappear never to be retrieved.

And, I'm not willing to entertain that the UI and UX problems are a matter of 'they're doing their best' BECAUSE

There are places where it is crystal clear to see that the UI points the player in a Specific Direction to a Specific Place with a SPECIFIC GOAL IN MIND (you only get one guess but if you're a lifer like me you know the answer in your heart already) and it is clear that the UI can in fact function perfectly well but is Not Allowed To, in service of that Specific Goal

This game is a cult. This game is a cult and I am a cultist. Its non-euclidian pathways are second nature to me, and the omnipresent Silver Light of the eververse is my accustomed daylight. Why would I question it? I already live here. I already love it here.

I love this game. I love the people who make the actual game I play. I hate the people who constantly try to make an extra 10-20-70 bucks off those who aren't going to be long-term players. These greedy fucking cash-scraping funnels they've constructed around the player onboarding experience have turned the game into a venus fly-trap.

(pictured: bungie C-suite trying to get big publisher investment without letting go of the most offensive monetization on the market)

I don't want to sound like Tassi or SkillUp too much right now, but I get the part of them that says 'dont give bungie credit for reversing a decision they knew was a bad one in the first place. Don't give this company extra grace for not tightening their fist as much as they could have. Don't let them act like the greedy part of the game's design isn't greedy, and couldn't be done better.'

The two needs are in direct tension with each other. The game can be easy to play, and a paid subscription game, or it can be what we have now: free and greedy and unnecessarily labyrinthine to teach. They don't coexist.

I love it here already.

[kaleidoscopek9]

BREAKS DOWN YOUR DOOR

Hi I saw you were playing D2, will you be my friend?

HELL YEAH, DESTINY BUDDIES!!

I play on PS4 and go by Kaleidoscope_K9#8292 on there! I don’t play too often but I try to get on at LEAST once a week. Hmu if you need a clumsy hunter on your fireteam, lol.

[blurred-cat]

i'm not very social so to overcome that i talk to the lyft/uber/cab drivers and gain more Talking to People exp so that i can communicate easier and better elsewhere (and also because a lot of them are genuinely fucking interesting!!!)

[rocketrrush]

obsessed with people drawing shadow the hedgehog like theyre doing fanart of scourge warrior cats during the 2010′s era

[caffeinewitchcraft]

You are a Blacksmith

Set in the universe where your destiny is written on your arm

(The Hero and Hope) (Being Villagers) (You are the Demon King)

You are a Blacksmith.

That’s why the dragon’s fire doesn’t burn you.

“Pretty sure dragon fire is hotter than a forge,” your party’s leader pants. Kent is a veteran adventurer of twenty years to your two years and he’s seen his fair share of dragon fire before today. There are curling scars dragging the corner of his mouth down into a permanent scowl that pairs oddly with how high he has his salt-and-pepper eyebrows. He exhales noisily. “I think you’re just a freak, actually.”

“Not nice,” Sella says. The archer is your age with twice your experience. Her leather armor is well-beaten by four years running around with Kent and getting far closer to battle than an archer should. Her red hair is tied with golden thread that matches the golden charms dangling from her necklace. She adds a new one with every successful monster kill. It’s lucky she’s so stealthy or else she’d be jingling with every step. “Mande is an exception, not a freak.”

You’re a party of exceptions. Most adventurers are Villagers or Guards, common destinies that don’t always find a place within a town or village that have so many of each already. There are days you report for a mission, and you’re offered a blacksmith’s job on the spot just because of the mark on your arm.

Kent is a landless Lord. There’s a story there, you know, but it’s not one he’s ever volunteered. You can see his destiny pull at him in the remote reaches of the Kingdom, where no Lord has laid roots and the monsters run roughshod across the barren soil. Nights where you’re too far from civilization find him gazing up into the stars, his fingers curled like claws into the earth. The look on his face then is so hungry that the first time you saw it, you offered him provisions from your own pack. He’d shaken his head wryly, his scarred frown twisting, and walked off into the night by himself, only returning in the morning light.

Sella is a Guardian without anyone to look after. You knew her story before she told it to you, whispering it like a bedtime story before the end of the world. She was part of a traveling theater group. She looked after them, feeding them and retrieving those with wanderlust from their journeys before curtain call. When a monster siege led by a Demon King fell upon the city they were performing in, the Lord called his people into his castle and locked the doors.

The troupe were not his people. But they were Sella’s.

Until they weren’t.

You drag your battle hammer up and over your shoulder. Conveniently, the dragon fire has burned away the wet viscera that had been clinging to it. The metal is dark with soot, but undamaged.

The things you smith can’t be melted by any fire except your own.

The skeletal trees make the scene of this final battle oddly silent. Ash drifts from the sky, carried by a wind too high to feel. You can hear your party sniping at each other behind you and the gentle gurgle of the beast’s body settling comfortably into death.

The red dragon is beautiful. Its scales gleam and sparkle like rubies in the late afternoon sun and its talons shine like obsidian. Each part of the creature could make an average family rich for a month. You consider it from an arm’s reach away. You chew your bottom lip as you think. Your adventures have taken you across the continent from the southern coast you call your home, to the western land of rivers, to the northern desert and then here, to the eastern dry lands. After all your travels, you find yourself still thinking of home often. Crab is a delicacy where you’re from despite being so close to the water. The preparation can be tedious which makes it a dish reserved from significant occasions. Cracking the shell was always your job…

“Oh,” Sella says faintly. She makes an attempt to rise and nearly tips over in the process. If it weren’t for her bow, she’d be on the ground. Her knees shake as she uses a combination of a tree and her bow to pull herself up. “Mande, rest first! In an hour I can help you—”

You bring your hammer down on the jaw of the dragon. The bone shatters after just two blows. It’s best not to think about how beautiful it looked flying overhead or the intelligence in its eyes. You’ve always had a single-minded focus and you rely on that now.

“Leave her to her dismantling,” Kent grumbles. He’s now curled up on the ground is if in his sleeping roll, hands tucked neatly under his chin. It can’t be a comfortable position given his full suit of armor no matter how peaceful his expression. “If she’s got the energy for it, who are we to argue? Just keep the ribs intact. That’s what the client wants.”

Smash!

“It’s our turn to do the dismantling,” Sella says. She glares down at Kent. “Mande already did last week’s gryphon and the hydra. Get up!”

Smash!

“I’m an old man who needs his nap time.”

“You’re an irresponsible leader who needs to do his part.”

Smash!

“Once Mande stops swinging that thing around, I will.”

“She won’t hit you—”

“She hit me last week!”

“And I apologized for that,” you say through gritted teeth. You let your hammer fall by your feet. Your last blow sent tremors through your arms. The dragon’s jaw is like glass compared to its skull. “Sincerely.”

Sella makes a gagging sound when you fall to your knees next to the cracked skull. “Mande, don’t put your hand in there, that’s – oh, that’s so gross.”

“The book I read said it’d be…aha!” Your fingers graze something cool and metallic. You abruptly feel like crying. It’s been seven months. Seven long months of endless missions and danger and being away from home. This entire dragon is priceless, but you’ve forfeited your share for this. You blink rapidly to keep your tears at bay. You aren’t going to cry. Not until you’re sure that you’ve really found it. “Quick, hand me my waterskin.”

Your urgency gets even Kent up and bustling towards the dragon’s corpse. With trembling fingers you accept the water from Stella, pulling out your prize. It’s smaller than you thought, only about the length of your arm or a third the length of the dragon’s skull.

With bated breath, you gently trickle water over the length of it. Your party kneels beside you, watching just as raptly.

“What is it?” Sella breathes.

Kent is wide-eyed as, inch by inch, your treasure reveals itself.

“A dragon’s silver wit,” you say. The silver is mottled by the dragon’s black blood and grey brain matter. “The last ingredient I need for a Hero’s Sword.”

-----.

“You can’t just make a Hero’s Sword,” Kent is still saying a week later. He throws his hands up to the sky. “Heroes make them from air and magic and righteousness. Blacksmiths just repair them!”

You didn’t ask for Sella or Kent to follow you home. In fact, you assumed they wouldn’t. The slaying of the red dragon marked the end of your time in the Adventurer’s Guild. Now you’re ready to return to your position as the southern port’s best blacksmith and you thought they’d be ready to return to the best two adventurers the Capital Guild had.

“I’ve heard legends about it,” Sella says. She’s walking backward. You’ve already warned her that the roads this far away from Capital aren’t as smooth, but she’d scoffed at your concern. Now it’s pure stubbornness to prove you wrong that has her continuing to walk backwards despite nearly tripping twice already. “Excalibur was manmade.”

“The legend of Hero Arthur is manmade,” Kent retorts.

“If you believe that,” you say, “you really don’t need to come home with me.”

Kent blinks. “Well,” he says slowly, “on the off chance it’s not a fairytale, I desperately want to see it.”

“Then shut up and follow Mande,” Sella says. She elbows him and mutters under her breath. “Or else she might not let us stay at her house.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure the dragon fetched enough coin for the both of you to get your own rooms at the inn.”

“Sure,” Kent agrees. He grins wickedly and the expression makes him look ten years younger. “But we’re not going to do that, are we Sella?”

“Nope,” Sella chirps. She loops an arm through yours before you can protest and squints at the horizon. “Is that your hometown over there?”

A hazy line of blue and white roofs is barely distinguishable in the fading light of day. Sella has better vision than you. You’re sure she can see the masts of ships in port, the green and yellow flag waving over the chief’s house, maybe even the orchard that creeps right up to the edge of the bluffs.

You can’t wait to see it yourself.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been smiling, but your face hurts by the time you find your voice. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

----------.

Mom hurls a loaf of bread at your head when you walk through the front door, Kent and Sella in tow.

Kent catches it an inch from your face. “Whoa, whoa!” He waves the bread as if unsure whether he should drop it or throw it back. “It’s your daughter! Mande! Put down the bread basket!”

“Mande and friends,” Sella says cheerfully. She waves at your Mom, Dad, and little brother. “Hello! I’m Sella.”

“I threw it because I know who it is,” your mom says. The grey streaks on either side of her temple are wider. Her round, kind face is pale with anger. “We thought you were dead.”

“We got your letters,” your dad says before you can ask. His hair hasn’t changed; he’s bald. He’s wearing his leather apron from the forge at the table. He takes a bite of soup. “All three of them.”

“Not nearly enough,” Mom snaps. Then, “And they could have been forgeries.”

“Who would forge a blacksmith’s letters home?” you ask in exasperation. Is that why she never replied? “Mom, please.”

“Don’t giveme that when you’ve been dead for seven months,” she says. She stands abruptly. “Three of you? Sit down. I don’t have enough soup, but bread will fill anyone’s stomach.”

“I’m Kent,” Kent blurts out before Sella can push him into a chair. He sits with a thud. “Sella, it’s rude to sit before introducing yourself!”

“Ruder than not knocking or coming for dinner without an invitation?” Sella hisses at him. She turns a charming smile on your little brother. “Sorry to intrude. You must be Axton. A pleasure to meet you.”

Axton doesn’t return her greetings. His eyes are fixed to the package strapped to your back. “Is that…?”

You swallow hard as your family’s eyes turn to you. You carefully pull the cloth-wrapped rod from your back. Your little brother isn’t so little anymore. You can see he’s taller than you as he stands in unison with Dad to clear a spot on the table. His long, thin hands make quick work of the ties.

There’s complete silence as the burlap falls away to reveal gleaming silver.

Axton’s throat bobs. He’s barely eighteen with the soft look of a fawn hovering around the edges of his jaw and cheekbones. Mom and Dad have done a good job feeding him while you’ve been gone. Seven months ago your brother looked like a wraith, all the light taken from him as if it all came from his hero’s sword.

“You’re going to make me a sword,” Axton says at last.

You’ve thought about this moment for seven months. You imagined you would say something like it’s okay now or maybe big sister fixed it. When his hero’s sword was taken from him, you thought about all sorts of things. It took a month for you to set out on this quest rather than one of revenge. It wouldn’t have helped Axton if you’d forged a hundred weapons of war to punish those who’d hurt him. It wouldn’t help Axton to pretend you fixed anything.

So instead you tell the truth.

“It won’t be the same,” you say. “It won’t work the way you want it to. Not right away. You’ll need to train with it and learn it as you would any other weapon. Your instincts won’t help you. But…it won’t break when I’m done. It won’t bend or chip. It won’t melt. It will serve you, Axton, until the exact moment you don’t need it anymore.”

Axton flies around the table to throw his arms around you. It’s amazing you came from the same parents. Where you are short and stocky, he’s really like a deer. His long arms could encircle you twice as he lifts you with a hero’s strength. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

And then you’re being hugged all around. Your dad’s strong, Blacksmith arms are crushing you to your brother, your mother’s soft cheek is against your shoulder, and there’s plate mail digging into your spleen while a sharp elbow digs into your spine.

You manage to turn your head just enough to see Kent hugging your from behind and Sella hugging him from behind. It’s her elbow that’s jabbing you.

“This is sweet,” she says. Her voice is a little muffled from how her face is pressed against Kent’s back. “We should hug more.”

“Does this make your brother a Hero?” Kent asks.

“This is a family hug,” you say.

“Duh,” Sella says. “That’s why we joined.”

You really can’t argue with that.

-

(Patreon)

Next week's story: Everyone in LA has two job. You've got a big smile and a talent for seeing ghosts. It's no surprise what your jobs are.

[baede-6]

I love that Ghost is just a character in a video game. That's all he is. Ghost is literally just a character in a video game and yet every single person I have ever met that plays Destiny, loves their Ghost like he's real.

Like he's actually a part of us like he is to our Guardians.

Because in a way, he is.

The emotional bond we formed with him is real.

Everyone I know that I have talked to about the end of The Final Shape, admitted to crying over Ghost. (Even my friends that I would say are more emotionally shut off). From my New Light friends to my Veteran friends that have been playing since Beta.

Ghost is just a character in a video game and Bungie managed to make a character that we feel is a part of us like they are to our character.

Nolan North put the emotion, the love, the humor,the concern,the compassion needed into the voice lines over the course of two games to get us attached to Ghost.

The writing team at Bungie, gave life to a little robot shell full of life, where if you were like me, loved him from day 1.

Every time Ghost has ever referenced how long he spent looking for me (My Guardian) or where he found me, I've gotten emotional. So when I got to that part in the the Cosmodrome in The Final Shape, not gonna lie, I got a little teary eyed. That was where it all began.

I'm his and he is mine.

My little guy. My little buddy for life.

He's just a fictional character.

But he's so much more than that.

I know no one at Bungie will ever read this, and I'm ok with that, but I just want to thank them for creating Ghost. I want to thank Nolan North for bringing him to life with his voice.

Now if you excuse me, I have to go hug my Ghost and then go on some adventures with him. ❤️♠️

[bengiyo]

BL veterans, is the 69 in Wandee Goodday Ep 3 the first one we have on record? I wanna say there might have been one in Destiny Seeker, but I only know for sure that we had rimming in that one. I don't think we had it in the Novelist either.

[thefirstknife]

They have confirmed that the cutscene will be viewable in the game when this year ends:

For those wondering... yes, this cinematic will continue to be viewable in-game after Year 6 of Destiny 2 concludes!

I understand the frustration of the cycling content, but I feel like at least some form of trust in the narrative team should be there. The cutscene was huge and it was a huge reveal and it just makes no sense to me that people would think that the cutscene will just never be shown again or referenced or explained. It didn't make sense to me even before they confirmed that not only will the cutscene remain important, but that it will remain fully viewable in the game. But yeah, in this case at least, rest easy. This will remain in the game. We don't know how yet or if it will include other cutscenes as well, but we'll see.

I know that a lot of people who fixated on it are genuinely interested in the lore and the story and were genuinely wondering about this cutscene (me included!), but I know for a fact that this was amplified tenfold by people who don't care either way. Believe it or not, the majority of the playerbase skips cutscenes and dialogues. The point here is that people were being disingenuous with their negativity in order to pile up on already existing negativity about a topic that 90% of the playerbase doesn't care about, while saying that this simply should've been in the main campaign which betrays their lack of understanding and care for the story.

got tired of people saying that the Witness origins cutscene should have been in Lightfall so I guess I'm making this post.

first of all. there's the logistical issue of what character in lightfall would even have the information Ahsa is telling us without making huge changes to the structure of the campaign and at that point just wait till season of the deep where the cutscene fits much better anyway.

also this probably isn't surprising but many people complaining about this don't actually think about WHY the cutscene is placed in Deep instead of Lightfall logistically, let alone thematically.

So what's Lightfall about? Grief, as it is not very subtle about. Specifically about how different people deal with and process grief (ex. how Osiris is clearly not dealing with the loss of Sagira and his light, Nimbus pushing down their grief for Rohan, Caiatl's own relationship with her father etc) and obviously strand is a metaphor for that.

On the other hand, Season of the Deep is more focused on finding out what the Witness is and finding a way for Ahsa to tell us that information. It fits here better because 1. Ahsa is the only thing person that would have this information and 2. It parallels very nicely with Sloane because of the whole "singleminded pursuit of a single goal" with the Witness's pursuit to find the Final Shape and Sloane's tendency to forget everything else but "the mission". (she even notes this in dialogue right after the cutscene, it's not exactly subtle). Putting this cutscene in the actual campaign would make no sense, ruin the pacing, and take away from a cool parallel that we got with Sloane

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Austin Grossman’s ‘Fight Me’

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

In Fight Me, the novelist and game developer Austin Grossman uses aging ex-teen superheroes to weigh the legacy of Generation X, in a work that enrobes its savage critique with sweet melancholia, all under a coating of delicious snark:

http://www.austingrossman.com/fight-me

It is, in other words, a very Gen X kinda novel. Prodigy (AKA Alex Beekman) is a washed-up superhero. As a nerdy high-schooler, he was given super powers by a mysterious wizard (posing as a mediocre teacher), who gave him an amulet and a duty. Whenever Alex touches the amulet and speaks the word of power, reaclun (which he insists is not "nuclear" backwards) he transforms into Prodigy, a nigh-invulnerable, outrageously handsome living god who is impervious to bullets, runs a one-minute mile, and fights like a champ. Prodigy, he is told, has a destiny: to fight the ultimate evil when it emerges and save the world.

Now, Alex is 40, and it's been a decade since he retired both Prodigy and his Alex identity, moving into a kind of witness protection program the federal government set up for him. He poses as a mediocre university professor, living a lonely and unexceptional life.

But then, Alex is summoned back to the superhero lair he shared with his old squad, "The Newcomers," a long-vacant building that is one quarter Eero Saarinen, three quarters Mussolini. There, he is reunited with his estranged fellow ex-Newcomers, and sent on a new quest: to solve the riddle of the murder of the mysterious wizard who gave him his powers, so long ago.

The Newcomers – an amped-up ninja warrior, a supergenius whose future self keeps sending him encouragement and technical schematics backwards through time, and an exiled magical princess turned preppie supermodel – have spent more than a decade scattered to the winds. While some have fared better than Alex/Prodigy, none of them have lived up to their potential or realized the dreams that seemed so inevitable when they were world famous supers with an entourage of fellow powered teens who worshipped them as the planet's greatest heroes.

As they set out to solve the mystery, they are reunited and must take stock of who they are and how they got there (cue Talking Heads' "Once In a Lifetime"). With flashbacks, flashforwards, and often hilarious asides, Prodigy brings us up to speed on how supers fail, and what it's like to live as a failed super.

The publisher's strapline for this book is "The Avengers Meets the Breakfast Club," which is clever, but extremely wrong. The real comp for this book isn't "The Breakfast Club," it's "The Big Chill."

When I realized this, I got briefly mad, because I've only had two good movie high concept pitches in my life and one of them was "Gen X Big Chill." Rather than veterans of the Summer of 68 confronting the Reagan years, you could have veterans of the Battle of Seattle living through the Trump years. One would be on PeEP, one would be an insufferable Andrew Tate-quoting bitcoiner, one would be a redpilled reactionary with a genderqueer teen, one would be a squishy lib, one a firebreathing leftist, etc. The soundtrack would just be top 40 tracks from artists who have songs on "Schoolhouse Rock Rocks":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schoolhouse_Rock!_Rocks

Every generation has some way in which they seek to overthrow the status quo and build a new, allegedly better one, after all. "Big Chill"'s impact comes from its postmortem on a generation where it was easy to feel like you were riding destiny's rails to greatness thanks to the sheer size of the Boomer cohort and the postwar prosperity they lived through. A Gen X Big Chill would be a stocktaking of a generation that defined itself as a lost generation reared in the Boomers' shadows, armored against the looming corpo-climate apocalypse with the sword of irony and the shield of sincerity.

Which is basically what Grossman is doing here. What's more, doing this as a superhero story is a genius move – what could be a better metaphor for a teen's unrealistic certainty of destined greatness than a superhero? Superhero fantasies are irreducibly grandiose and unrealistic, but all the more beautiful and brave and compelling for it.

You know, like teens.

At 52, I'm a middle-aged Gen Xer. I've got two artificial hips and I just scheduled a double cataract surgery. My hairline is receding. I'm an alta kaker. But I wasn't always: I was a bright and promising kid, usually the youngest person in the room where we were planning big protests, ambitious digital art projects, or the future of science fiction. I had amazing friends: creative and funny and sweet, loyal and talented and just fun.

We're mostly doing okay (the ones that lived; fuck cancer and fuck heroin and fuck fentanyl). Some of us are doing pretty good. On a good day, I think I'm doing pretty good. I had a night in 2018 where I got to hang out, as a peer, with my favorite musician and my favorite novelist, both in the same evening. These were artists I'd all but worshipped as a teen. I remember looking at the two selfies I took than night and thinking, Man, if 15 year old me could see these, he'd say that it all worked out.

But you don't get to be 52 without having a long list of regrets and failures that your stupid brain is only too eager to show you a highlight reel from. No one gets to middle age without a haunting loss that is always trying to push its way to the fore in order to incinerate every triumph great and small and leave ashes behind.

That's why there's a "Big Chill" for every generation. Each one has its own specific character and meaning situated in history, but each one has to grapple with the double-edged sword of nostalgia. Not for nothing, John Hodgman (a bona fide Gen X icon) calls nostalgia "a toxic impulse."

Grossman really makes Fight Me work as a Gen X Big Chill. He's a great Gen X writer; his first novel, Soon I Will Be Invincible, was a knockout debut about superheroes and supervillains that had a very "The Boys" vibe, you know, that neat little move where you contend with the banal parts of a super's life and show how super powers don't make you a good person, or even a competent one.

His followup to Invincible came six years later. YOU is a coming-of-age story about the games industry with a second-person narrator (think "Zork"). Grossman is an accomplished game dev (Tomb Raider Legend, Deus X, Dishonored, etc), and he uses YOU to really plumb the depths of what games mean, what fun is, and how working on games isn't just work, it's often really shitty work, the opposite of fun:

https://memex.craphound.com/2013/04/16/austin-grossmans-you-brilliant-novel-plumbs-the-heroic-and-mystical-depths-of-gaming-and-simulation/

Grossman's last novel was Crooked, a very daffy alternate history in which Richard Nixon is a Cthulhoid sorcerer locked in a Lovecraftian battle of good and evil. This is a purely hilarious romp, wildly imaginative and deliciously certain to offend reactionary jerks:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/08/26/austin-grossmans-crooked-the-awful-cthulhoid-truth-about-richard-nixon/

All those chops are on display in Fight Me: a book that covers its brooding with wisecracks, that spits out ten great gags per page even as it drives a knife into your heart. It's a great novel.

Fight Me doesn't come out in the US and Canada until tomorrow (it's been out in the UK, Australia, NZ, etc for more than a month). Normally, I would hold off on reviewing this until the on-sale date, but this is my last day on the blog for two weeks – I'm leaving on a family vacation early tomorrow morning. I'll see you on July 14!

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/01/the-big-genx-chill/#im-super-thanks-for-asking

[haysaca]

Rambles about hag and vampire (hofweis)

Was skimming through some parts of chapter 7 to see the little bits of dynamic we got to see from Semmelweis and Greta and the next thing I knew I was rewatching the most heartwrenching death scene and was reminded why this is called the doomed yuri game.

On another note, Semmel seems to be a bit more relaxed around Greta! Or at least a lot more casual once all the formalities are done.

Its hard to say if that's really the case since one of Semmel's core traits is being very socially adept and deceiving, she's been amicable to everyone in Echoes of the Mountain even trying to be cheeky with her superior when she gets the chance.

Anyways I always thought that they had some sort of senior-junior dynamic due to their age gap, similar to Marcus, but less mentor-mentee and more like veteran and rookie police partners for a short while.

I find Semmelweis' reaction to Greta's death to be very interesting, it's one of the few moments that genuinely makes her speechless (the other being her first time casting arcanum), and it even shakes Bella- a reflection of her inner self- and their determination to live. I like to think it hints to how she actually cared for Greta (at least compared to the rest of the Foundation), not just as a genuine friend, but also as some kind of role model for control and competency. Yet even someone like her could not escape death.

Granted, a lot of factors went to building this moment, and Greta's death wasn't the exact focus; she's in a hurry because of the storm, she's struggling to communicate with Lorelei, and now her boss was calling her ass to work. She was already losing her composure and resolve prior to this moment.

Still, Semmelweis' entire character revolved around struggling against destiny; her struggle to fit in as a rotten wand, her struggle to survive as an infected, her struggle to accept her irrationality. She had been striving to this moment with deception and determination to take control, and all that shook when Greta died, giving way to a little bit of despair.

That's all for my Hofweis ramble, I really hope that if they continue to expand on Semmelweis' story that we'll get to learn more about their history.

On another note, I find this particular moment in Greta's death to be so funny.

Like, she goes "damn skill issue on my part" as she's literally experiencing an agonizing death, with her student also watching.

Oh Greta, your unintentional funniness will forever be iconic and missed.

[goattypegirl]

While not physically dependent on Kanohi the way Matoran are, Makuta give them equal cultural weight. A Makuta's mask is their identifier. It is difficult to identify who's who if you are all natural shapechagers and illusionists, so it is customary to avoid altering one's mask too drastically in the company of other Makuta. The Hagah tradition to honor past heroes by wearing masks shaped like theirs is derived from this philosophy.

Masks are never swapped or gifted, with a single historical exception. Icarax inherited the Mask of Shadows, and gave his mask of Scavenging to a lowly Matoran as a show of power. Icarax was too foolish to realize Teridax had just done the same to him.

Masks are also emblems of a Makuta's character, their beliefs and philosophies distilled into a single object. Teridax's coup changed the Makuta from scientists and shepherds to occult chessmasters, but can be thought as a shift from the Mask of Mutation to the Mask of Shadows. Would the Makuta have become isolationist hermit-kings had Krika taken control? Accelerationists and disruptors had Gorast?

Only one of Great version each mask has ever been made*, and it is uknown who made them or the Noble versions rewarded to a Makuta's chosen Matoran. One would think that the Makuta's masks were declared immoral for Toa to use after the Brotherhood's betrayal was made public, but this was established in the Toa Code since its creation. A Toa would only ever be in a position to use a Makuta's mask if the Makuta had just died in front of them, most likely by the Toa's own hand.

*There is one exception, debatably two. Chirox and Mutran share the same mask. Some accounts theorize that Mutran initially had a different mask, and changed his mask in order to torment Chirox. Others say that the two always had the same mask, a symbol of their role as left and right hands of a greater whole. The Jultin is a matter of debate. The Jutin was Antroz's mask, but there are conflicting reports of his whereabouts just prior to the destiny war. A Matoran word for failure is 'spiriah', which is not only Makuta in origin, but constructed like a personal name. It is possible 'Spiriah' is in fact the Makuta of Zakaz expunged from history, and that Sipiriah donned an unpowered Jutlin in order to disguise their identity.

Rahi contain 'tags' within their core essence, instantly detectable and innately understandable by Antidermic creatures, but require a veteran archivist's knowledge to even to begin to comprehend for Protodermics. These tags are believed to be signatures by the Makuta who designed that Rahi species, maker's marks imbedded into their fundamental being. A codex of marks and their associated Makuta are on the Makoki stone, allowing for researchers to know precisely which Makuta created which Rahi. Curiously, there are tags within Rahi found nowhere upon the Makoki stone. The history of the Brotherhood begins with the formation of the Makoki stone, which suggests an early "generation zero" of Makuta born prior to the brotherhood. None of these elder Makuta have ever been successfully identified or contacted.

It is common belief that Antidermis was a byproduct of Protodermis synthesization. This is only partially correct. Antidermis was an attempt at artificial energized protodermis. Both substances are mutagenic, both components of a gestalt consciousness, but while energized is damnably finite, new Antidermis can theoretically be created forever.

The earliest design documents for the GSR were found recently. They revealed that the Great Beings initially wanted to build *6* vessels, at least some of which would have been made from Antidermis. Only one vessel was ever created, but the Great Beings reformulated this initial concept into another failsafe for the GSR. This should come as no surprise though. After all, Teridax's plan hinged on the fact that the Makuta are potentially destined to inherit the role of the Mata Nui intelligence.