#its like when you escape the boundaries of the map in an open world game and there's just nothing there

[zooophagous]

If you're ever thinking of taking a road trip across North Dakota don't do it

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Trust

As Tom neared the house where he lived with Mr. Lu, he noticed that the scales on the man's body were losing their thickness, their darkness, and were flattening close to his skin. He did this silently, without a word or action.

As the draconization faded, so did that strong threatening aura he was giving off. His eyes returned to their innocent brown and he yelled. "Erii! I found him!"

Tom stopped in his tracks and ducked behind a tree as the door opened.

Erii was silent so he couldn't hear what she said, but Mr. Lu made a few confused noises. "He was here I swear!"

Erii gave a loud sigh and he heard her footsteps come down from the front porch.

Tom pressed himself against the tree. The fight plus the strong current had torn away most of his clothes The sand and the scales didn't hide much else. Why would Mr. Lu call to her out of all people?

He felt a sharp tap on his shoulder and startled nearly out of his skin. She'd found him! Without a second thought, he used his newfound wings to cover his entire front.

Erii stood there in her panda covered night gown, crimson eyes wide as saucers.

Tom didn't know what to be more ashamed of. His scaly appendages and pinkish membrane wings were monstrous, hideous to him. He felt like a some sort of naked bat. But he couldn't retract them without giving her a full frontal exposure and he didn't want to turn around and expose his butt.

He skittered behind another tree but she followed him, still staring in curiosity. "Mr. Lu!" Tom's voice came out as a squeak, adding to his embarrassment.

"It's fine! She doesn't care, really! She's uh... she's Japanese! Her brother works at a nude beach!"

"This makes me really uncomfortable!" Tom cried out, desperate to escape her eyes as she pursued him squirrel style around and around the tree trunk.

"Hey Erii, don't we have a blanket or something?"

Erii paused in her pursuit and nodded and hurried away.

Thankfully, Mr. Lu didn't laugh. He rubbed the back of his head. "Even after all these years, she has no sense of boundaries. Please forgive her, she wasn't raised with people... I mean, it's not like she was raised by wolves but she was isolated because she was a lot like you, unstable. She could turn into dragon servitor at any point. She could even..." Mr. Lu suddenly trailed off his eyes briefly unfocused. "Well... never mind that. It's a long sad and terrible story."

But he had Tom's attention. "She's ... like me?"

"Yeah, just like you. In fact, when I met her, it seemed like she didn't have long to live." Mr. Lu hooked his thumbs into his khaki's. "It was only by Mrs. Chu's sacrifice that she's here today."

Mr. Lu was staring at him but when he spoke he seemed to be speaking to himself more than anyone else. "That's what this is all about... after all."

Erii reappeared with a large sleeved white haori. The fabric was fine and shiny. She signed in sharp gestures.

"She says you need to bathe first. Then you can wear the clothes."

Much to his surprise, the island had a hot spring that bubbled with a slight sulfury smell. He got in and Mr. Lu stripped down to join him.

Tom crouched awkwardly. His center of gravity had changed with the addition of new limbs. Not having a pinky finger was strangely disabling. He could grab the edge of the pool, but he didn't feel stable. He found himself digging his claws into the stony surface.

He allowed Mr. Lu to scrub his back and hair removing all the sand and blood from him. As he relaxed, the scales lifted to receive the heat from the hot spring and Tom felt an overwhelming sense of wellbeing. He sighed leaned against the edge.

"Feels good doesn't it?" Mr. Lu said knowingly. "Dragons naturally enjoy places like this. The water here is full of nutrients and vitamins."

"So you picked this place on purpose." Tom glanced behind him. "Mrs. Chu, is she like us?"

"Nah, quite the opposite. I can't tell you too much, but she is always in control of her dragonblood. It doesn't control her."

"You mean like you did just a bit ago?" He looked down at his wings.

"Yeah! Just like that.” He smiled but then his expression changed, as though he had realized he was saying too much.

“Do you have her blood?”

“Me? Uh... boy you ask a lot of questions. I need to go for another jog!”

“Who was that guy? Who attacked us...? Why would he do that?” But Mr. Lu was already getting out of the pool. He didn’t say anything as he began wiping himself down with a towel. “Make sure you dry yourself off well before you put those clothes on. It’s silk.”

-

Mingfei walked away from the pool before he could say more. He’d never minded Carli’s endeavors much before. After all, it was nice here. He got to be with Erii and he was doing something that would bring dragons into the future. 

But even after all this time, he was of two minds. On the one hand, he was curious if her vision of a peaceful world between humans, hybrids and dragons was actually possible. He had a growing respect for humans who, despite their indisputable weakness, had borrowed strength from dragons, grown stronger in their own right, and then succeeded in turning him against himself in an effort to end the era of dragons forever.

Were it not for the rifts and wars within their own society, they might have succeeded.

He entered the main house.

Hybrids were split into their own distinct little mini states super imposed on the map of the human world with The Secret Society of Dragonslayers as their defacto army. The Society had factions within itself that had their own agendas, rarely talked to one another, and had a thin line of trust holding it all together.

That trust was being broken. They all suspected it. More and more, Mai and Enxi were tracking incursions onto the island and its surrounding waters. He’d allowed this one intruder to invite himself onto the beach to encourage Tom to let loose. He didn’t realize it, but he was already restraining his blood out of his own self loathing.

Knowing what he did now, it would be easy for Mingfei to pull of a few of those strings and watch the Secret Society members tear themselves apart of their own volition. 

And then what? 

He paused as he spotted Erii blasting away at her games, her twitch responses confounding and pushing the enemy into rage quitting in defeat. Opponent Offline, read the screen.

She turned those ruby eyes on him and immediately world domination no longer mattered to him any more.

He’d hung up that hat. This was much preferable. In another time, he would say that she was his weakness, the thing that kept him from the throne.

“How is he?” She signed. 

“Back to his old self. Questions.”

“Carli called. She wanted to talk to you about what happened.”

“Ah... Okay.” He picked up his phone. “He’s going to be hungry...” He wandered over to the kitchen. “Carli?”

“Is he alright? Who made it here? Did anyone survive?”

“Yes. I don’t know, and no.” He ticked off his fingers. “He’s just fine. More than fine actually. He sprouted wings!”

He listened to her pause, letting those words sink in.  “Wings? Really?”

Her voice grew softer, sadder, wistful.

Mingfei poured an entire bag of chips into a bowl. “Huoli had wings. That’s what you’re thinking?”

When she didn’t answer he leaned against the kitchen counter. “You understand that Tom isn’t your son but you can’t help it. I can tell. After all... if Huoli had lived, he would have been about Tom’s age.”

She cut him off. “Stop, stop saying those things.”

“Listen. I’ll stop saying those things when you go home. Chu Zihang misses you. Your daughter misses you. You’ve been here for weeks. Let me and Erii handle Tom.”

“I can’t go home, I just received three more patients who were able to take the blood serum. I need to see the results through. You didn’t use your powers... did you?”

“No. Don’t worry."

“I don’t like this. What if word gets out about this place? They’ll bomb the island to glass!”

“They’re clearly bored and need something to do. Go home.” He crunched into a chip and grabbed a tub of dip from the refrigerator, closing the door with his foot.

“What are you planning?”

“Something to keep them occupied. Once they’re nicely distracted, you'll have nothing to worry about.”

“Okay...” Her voice was soft and cracking. “Don’t... Don’t hurt anyone. Okay?”

“I didn’t say anything about hurting anyone!” Mingfei paused.

“Your voice... it’s cold.”

“Well... sometimes it is now...” On his way back to the hot spring his eyes fell on Erii again who was still online playing.

“I’m trusting you.” Carli hung up without saying goodbye.

[pilot-boi]

Shouting In Cafes: Chapter Nineteen

Airborne

This world keeps spinning, and with each new day I can feel a change in everything

AO3 LINK

 “So…what is this thing?” Neptune questioned as he stared down at the lump of fried dough on a plate, covered in a heaping helping of powdered sugar and red strawberry sauce.

“It’s a funnel cake,” Sun explained, after a moment of confused silence. “Are you seriously telling me you’ve never had funnel cake before, bro?” 

They were sitting under a bright pink and blue pinstriped umbrella by the food stands. The two had gotten sandwiches for lunch, and Sun had suggested sharing something sweet, which had resulted in the funnel cake Neptune was now eyeing dubiously. 

It had first resulted in Sun winking and commenting, “Well I know where you could get somethin’ sweet bro,” to which Neptune had shoved the map in his face and fled to the nearest food stand. And then funnel cake.

“I feel like I’ll gain twenty pounds just looking at it,” Neptune mumbled.

Sun barked out a laugh. “You won’t! Just try it, I think you’ll like it!”

After a few more dubious glances between the plate and friend, Neptune stabbed a piece of the dough with a plastic fork and bit into it.

“Well?” Sun was leaning forward expectantly, watching him intently. Eyes way too wide, but when weren’t they?

Neptune avoided his gaze for a moment. “It’s…not bad.”

“You liar! You like it!” Sun accused. “And of freaking course you’re using a fork.”

“What else would I use?”

“Uh, your hands? Duh?”

Neptune didn’t reply, simply stabbed another, more substantial, section of the funnel cake with his fork, and ate it in one bite.

“Hey, leave some for me!” Sun protested, diving forward and knocking Neptune’s utensil out of the way. 

It didn’t take long for them to polish off the plate, and by the end of it, Neptune had taken notice of a smear of strawberry sauce across Sun’s cheek.

He felt a momentary urge to wipe it away, to reach out and brush the sticky substance off. His arm was half-outstretched before Neptune stopped himself, not wanting to risk rocking the boat any further. 

Boundaries were something Sun tended to ignore, but not him. He liked his boundaries nice and sturdy, thank you very much. And doing something like that would definitely be enough to tip off even Sun.

“You’ve got some on your face.” He said this instead.

“Oh?” The blonde took a napkin and wiped off his cheeks. “Got it?” He asked when he’d finished.

Neptune made the mistake of letting his eyes linger too long, and cursed himself silently when Sun met his eyes. 

“You good, bro?” Sun asked, waving a hand in front of his face. “Spaced out?”

Shit.

Neptune dropped his gaze. “No, no, sorry…I just…”

You’re unreal. The hottest guy I’ve ever met. Your eyes are so pretty when you smile. And you smile so often, that my heart can’t physically take it. But what’s worse is when you just look so open, and I don’t know what to do with that.

The words he wanted to say chased themselves half-formed across the landscape of his consciousness. His stupid heart was more than eager to say them all. But he’d already come too close to ruining a perfectly good friendship, and he wasn’t going to give it a chance.

So those words Neptune wished he could say, he swallowed, and tucked safely into his heart never to be released.

Those words were dangerous, and to say them now would jeopardize everything that he’d accomplished today. He’d made it this far, he couldn’t ruin it in the eleventh hour.

Sun was straight. This wasn’t a date. Sun was straight. 

Now if Sun could just stop staring at him like that, maybe he could hold it together for a few more hours. After all, he could see the sun beginning it’s downwards descent, and he knew he wouldn’t have to endure much more of this.

Because even though this definitely wasn’t a special birthday date, he’d come too close to forgetting that a couple times. 

He was getting more caught up in it every time Neptune held his hand and Sun swung their clasped hands between them as they walked. He didn’t protest as much he normally would when he begrudgingly accepted an enthusiastically presented brightly-colored stall-game prize. 

And then the thing with the funnel cake. That wasn’t flirting right? Because with every time he had to ask himself that on this godforsaken not-date, the less convincing Neptune sounded to himself.

“Well, I think that was the last one.” Sun commented, ignoring Neptune leaning heavily on the railing underneath the ride they’d just gotten off of, knees shaking.

He’d pretty firmly figured out by the second ride that he didn’t like roller coasters quite as much as he was letting on. However, he didn’t say anything, mostly because Sun enjoyed it so much himself. 

Sun could not make it more obvious that he liked roller coasters. A lot. They were fun, fast, and unexpected. Rapid twists and turns that made you feel like you were flying, before depositing you safely back to earth. 

 Sun’s enthusiasm was infectious, and the huge exhilarated grins that Neptune received after each ride felt like reward enough. Each ride felt a brief little escape from the bonds of reality, into a universe where he could forget that this wasn’t a date.

And besides, Neptune signed up for this. If he’d really wanted to, Sun had given him a perfectly good out at the beginning of the day. But alas, Neptune was a weak spineless man with no willpower, so he went along with Sun.

Glancing up, Neptune realized that the sky had mostly darkened, and the last rays of the sun were filtering past the horizon.

“It’s getting dark…should we go soon?” Neptune asked from the railing he was clinging to like his life depended on it. Which it definitely did. No way was the world supposed to be spinning like this.

Sun perked up immediately, nearly falling over himself to pull the map from his back pocket. “No, no! There’s one more ride left!”

“There is?” Neptune groaned, and glanced over at the map Sun was displaying proudly. He squinted in confusion before his eyes landed on what appeared to be the park's star attraction. “You mean the Ferris wheel?” Neptune asked.

Sun nodded. “We should go on it!”

Neptune shrugged, finally relinquishing his grasp on the railing. “Sure, if you want. Seems a bit slow, though. You sure it’s your kind of ride?”

Sun nodded as they started walking towards the line for the Ferris wheel. “Not usually,” Sun admitted, “but I’ve heard it’s got one hell of a view!”

The line for the Ferris wheel was a bit longer, but again, with Sun carrying on, switching topics, and goading Neptune into playing along with his conversations, the time flew by. 

The Ferris wheel was bedecked with golden fairy lights that ran up and down the support struts. There were colorful triangle panels decorating the arms that extended outwards to the edge of the wheel, and the gondolas were bright cherry red. 

By the time they were seated in the little gondola, a small two-seat car with a rounded bottom and an arched over canopy, the sun had fully set.

Neptune didn’t notice the number of people filtering out of the park, or the fact that nobody else had gotten onto the ride after them. He was too caught up in Sun’s voice, eagerly relaying to him some adventure he’d had with one of his other friends. 

“You did not see a sea monster you idiot.”

“Bro I’m serious! Though I’m pretty sure it could have eaten my face off.” 

The wheel started turning, and as it did, Neptune turned his head to look out towards the city.

“It really is a pretty view…” He admitted, as the sparkling city lights spread out like a speckling of glitter across a black blanket. The fairgrounds were a decent distance away from downtown, and also at a slightly higher elevation. This made for a dramatic landscape which unfolded as their cart was slowly lifted higher into the sky.

“It is,” Sun said, in a tone of voice Neptune couldn’t quite identify. 

Sun wasn’t looking at the city.

They’d just reached the apex of the wheel and were about to begin their downwards descent when the wheel stopped.

It wasn’t a jarring stop, like you’d expect had the wheel somehow jammed. It was soft and deliberate.

Planned.

Neptune turned his head to Sun, who he’d just realized was a lot closer than he’d been so far today, aside from on the coaster cars. But in those, Neptune had been too busy screaming to notice the distance.

That was a lie. He’d very much noticed.

This was different though. And now they were hanging midair, for some reason.

“Sun, what’s going on?” He asked, leaning over slightly to look over the edge of the car towards the ground.

“This… is a birthday present. From me to you.” Sun declared, though his voice lacked some of its usual force. 

He almost sounded nervous. Neptune didn’t know it was possible for Sun to sound nervous.

 “I thought the gift was the trip to the amusement park?” he asked, confusion inching into his voice.

Sun scrunched his nose and rolled his eyes. “I mean it was…but this is the real one.” 

That was when the first heart-stopping explosion occurred.

Neptune jumped violently where he was sitting in the cart, hands flying to grip the railing in front of them, blocking the front of the cart. “What the fuck-”

He looked up. 

The sky was ablaze with fireworks.

Great bursts of all the colors of the rainbow decorated the sky against a backdrop of stars. They shot up from the ground in spirals or large balls of brilliant golden light. Zigzagging patterns through the air or elegantly erupting into blossoms of color.

The entire display went on for about five minutes, perhaps more, and Neptune spent all of it transfixed.

He’d never really seen fireworks.

Heard of them, sure. And pictures and videos, but never in person. He’d never really seen the appeal. 

Yet here he was, seeing them, and now he understood why people loved them so much. The sounds, the shapes, the colors. There were so many colors. The sky was a blank canvas that, in an instant, had been painted by watercolor until it was drenched with all the mesmerizing glory it could possibly contain. 

When the last echoes of the bursts had finally stopped ringing in his ears, Neptune sat back against the cart, having not realized he’d leaned forward when the show had begun. 

It was easily the best birthday present he’d ever received.

---

The fireworks had been the perfect cherry on top. This day had been nearing perfect, and the fireworks made it all click together. 

When he’d found out it was Neptune’s birthday, he’d realized that there couldn’t be a better way to do this. Finding out about the fireworks at this amusement park had pretty much cemented his decision on what to do. 

Planning the day trip, and keeping it a surprise was more effort than Sun had ever put into any event in his life. 

And watching the colors of the fireworks reflect in Neptune’s eyes had made it all worth it. 

They’d cast shadows that danced over his face, before lighting the night all over again. His glasses reflected the lights, flashing with a million billion colors and casting lights down onto his cheeks. His cheeks were flushed in awe, and Sun was captivated.

When it had ended, Neptune had sat against the backrest of the gondola again, still with an awed expression on his face.

“Did…did you like it?” Sun dared to ask, his heart threatening to beat its way out of his chest.

Neptune turned his head to him with a smile just tugged at his lips.

“I loved it.” And I love you, Sun nearly said. Nearly said, but didn’t say. He wanted to though.

Sun could have left it there. He could have waved to have them brought back down, dropped Neptune off, and just held out a bit longer.

A month was pretty fast, even by his standards. But he couldn’t handle to wait any longer. Already bouncing eagerly against the walls of his heart were the words he’d had tucked away all day.

All week. Month. Since the drive really, twenty-seven days, but who was counting.

Neptune didn’t smile enough. Didn’t laugh enough. And he wanted to make sure that smile stayed, even just for a few moments longer. 

It was why he let it happen, with no plan as to what to say, he just went with what his instincts said to do. Which was always dangerous for Sun, but when had that stopped him before?

They said to do it now, because he’d never find a moment like this with Neptune ever again. 

Sun grabbed one of Neptune’s hands in his, nearly melting then and there when Neptune’s fingers interlaced with his automatically.

It was quiet.

There was just so much Sun wanted to say. Even though it was only a month, and he knew it sounded crazy, and he knew he was probably acting like some stupid lovestruck kid.

So much he wanted to spill out until Neptune understood just how much he meant to him. But words had never been his strong suit, so his stupid brain was settling for hoping his intense gaze conveyed everything he couldn’t.

And for once, Neptune didn’t avert his eyes. Sun hoped that meant he wasn’t totally fucking doomed.

Clinging to that hope, Sun took all the words jammed into the bottleneck his mouth was making. He shuffled them together, and said what mattered most right then and there.

“Will you go out with me?”

[spookyceph]

Comfort Zone Pt. 1

A Shigaraki & Toga fic! Because the League becoming friends is just about my favorite thing ever. Also, it's running long, so I split it into two parts.

Rating: T and up

Relationships: Shigaraki Tomura & Toga Himiko, Dabi/Shigaraki Tomura (hints of)

Warnings: Swearing, anxiety attacks, disturbing thoughts, self-harm (in the form of Shigaraki’s scratching), mentions of blood

Even after shoving the door to the downstairs bathroom shut and locking it behind him, Tomura couldn’t convince his heart to stop slamming against his ribs like a caged animal.

How he’d let this happen—why he’d allowed it to—he couldn’t begin to piece together. He’d been so pissed when Dabi had intruded on his solitude at the bar. But then…then the bastard had started talking. Worse, he’d made sense. As if that hadn’t been enough, Dabi had given him a gift before leaning in close, so close, close enough to touch—touch!—his face, to tangle warm fingers in his hair, and shitshitfuckinghellwhatwashesupposedto—

Gasping for the air that had suddenly abandoned the room, Tomura sagged against the sink. No. The walls were not closing in on him. He wasn’t about to suffocate. His brain was just convinced that was the case because it was busy drowning in swells of adrenaline and anxiety. One hand flew up to his neck. The sting of his nails ripping open new furrows across old scratches caused his flailing thoughts to freeze. Seizing the opportunity, he groped for another lifeline.

“W-white counter. Lavender soap. Blue…fuck.” He gouged his nails deeper, countering anxiety’s own claws in his guts. “Blue. The fucking goddamn towel is blue. Like his—”

The resulting jolt of shock at what had nearly escaped his mouth knocked panic’s grip right off of him.

Tomura turned the sink faucet on and stuck his icy, quaking hands under the warm stream of water. The sensation of it flowing and sliding between all five of his fingers like nothing solid could helped ground him further. Cupping his palms, he caught enough to splash onto his face and scrub away the clammy sheen of stress sweat. Too late, he remembered the fresh coating of salve. Droplets raining down his cheeks and chin, Tomura lifted his head to confront his reflection.

Cracked and crinkled rice paper skin. Beauty mark like a droplet of ink to one side of his mouth. Vertical scar splitting the symmetry of his lips. White wisps of hair that Kurogiri had long since stopped suggesting he comb curling every which way. Eyes as round and rawly red as the healing exit wounds that shitheel Snipe had given him as parting gifts. Or the thin streams of blood trickling from his shredded neck, soaking into his shirt. The same list of features he’d had as long as he could remember—no more than fifteen years back before recollections slid into oblivion, admittedly, but long enough. Tomura squinted, studying each one, struggling to imagine what they might look like through eyes the bright blue of lightning.

Don’t expect me to share my chapstick, though. You’re on your own with that one, creep.

Tomura’s jaw tightened until his temples throbbed. Sensei had once had him take some standardized tests from the most prestigious schools in the country, just to show him how narrow society’s thinking could be. He’d aced every one…yet he’d walked right into Dabi’s little joke. The bastard had probably laughed all the way back to his room at Tomura’s gullibility. Even with half his skin barbequed, face full of staples and stitches like a campy horror movie character, he’d obviously been born a golden child, tall and beautiful and strong. Probably doted on by everyone around him until whatever little accident had tarnished his shine. Driven into the dark of the underworld, he still retained the same entitled attitude. Someone like Tomura—no pedigree, no social standing, and thus no need to kiss anyone’s ass—would be vermin to him.

Think of this another way. As a show of trust.

There. Better?

Here. Keep it. Should last awhile.

The righteous fire in Tomura’s chest dwindled and fizzled. A smaller but much more alarming warmth kindled along his cheekbones. Okay, fine. Dabi’s expression hadn’t belonged to a purebreed staring down his nose at a stray mongrel when he’d said those things, but so damn what? He’d smirked and teased and bulldozed right through every boundary he found.

Why, then, hadn’t Tomura erased his annoying existence from the world? Or at least beat some respect into him? Just because he’d been nice for two seconds? Tomura preferred to think he wasn’t so pathetic that he could be swayed by such an insignificant gesture.

People always show their real selves when they’re pissed.

The tang of copper coated his tongue as he chewed on his nails—his second favorite method to tear himself apart. What if…what if insults and arrogance were tactics? Ways for Dabi to gather intelligence and gain the upper hand? Tomura did much the same on the rare, awful occasions he had to interact in public, just in the opposite direction—he pretended to be a harmless drone of hero society like everyone else. In that light, Dabi’s intentions had been genuine even though his approach relied on deception.

Aloof characters who nevertheless gave their all for the party when it came down to it were always the most useful in games. Not to mention usually Tomura’s favorites.

Right. That concluded his thinking about the subject for the night. Or eternity.

Door opened a crack, Tomura peeked out into the hallway. Not a soul. He cocked his head, listening. Not a whisper or peep. Mindful of every creaky floorboard, he crept out. Slunk upstairs like a thief in his own base of operations. Hardly dared to breathe until he’d shut and locked the door to his room behind him.

Nerves still crawling beneath his skin, Tomura glanced over at the laptop sitting on the small desk against one wall. To the TV mounted on the other, framed by shelves of games to various consoles. He would’ve liked nothing more than to have a glowing screen absorb his attention, but he knew his focus was too scattered to play anything. Scanning the online news feeds would yield nothing but chatter about Stain or All Might—his fingers latched back onto his neck just thinking about it. He couldn’t wear himself out with training since that meant going back downstairs to use the mats and equipment in the basement. No fucking way was he setting foot in the bar for the next few days. Maybe not for years.

He knew he shouldn’t have let anyone stay here. Now he was trapped, a prisoner in his own goddamned room, all because he’d let an overcooked piece of human yakitori put his soft, stapled hands on him, and—

The rising swells of panic dropped and went utterly still as Tomura’s eyes darted to his closet. Of course. Such an obvious answer. He should’ve known what to do from the beginning.

Aah, you poor thing. What are you so afraid of? All you have to do is follow your heart.

As always, Sensei had provided for him.

Sliding one side of the closet open, Tomura picked up a long wooden box from its resting place beneath his neatly hung clothing. He gently set it in the middle of the room before retrieving a cloth from his desk. Sitting on his heels in front of the box, he wiped a few stray specks of dust from its lacquered surface. Though his memory of receiving it (not to mention its contents) remained lost somewhere in the murky haze of his childhood, the familiar action alone reassured him. Sensei had instructed him to care for it and he had, polishing it every week without fail for fifteen years.

Sleeves over the heels of his palms to prevent smudges, Tomura carefully lifted the lid.

The stench of formaldehyde sprang out immediately. It reached straight down his throat and clenched his guts with corrosive fingers. Despite the urge to vomit everything in his body cavity up, a mantle of calm settled over Tomura’s shoulders. As wretched, as vile, as stomach-wringing as they were, the sensations were familiar. They’d woven themselves into his makeup as tightly as his DNA. The same could be said for what lay inside the box.

Paler even than him against their nest of black coffin velvet, fourteen human hands lay in two neat rows. Well, thirteen—one was merely a replica, a replacement. The metal caps on the wrists gleamed sallow gold under the room’s light. Poised on the razor’s edge between sickened and serene, Tomura reached for them in the usual order.

First, the smallest ones, curled around his wrists. A larger pair with aged, wrinkled skin and knobby knuckles clamped to his biceps next. A similar but slimmer version of those followed on his forearms. The hands with the longest, loveliest fingers encircled his neck in fourth place. Two sets of brutish, blocky ones latched onto his shoulders, then his sides just beneath his arms.

Naturally, the best he saved for last.

Tomura fixed the replica to the back of his head almost absently. His attention was reserved for its partner: a left, the largest hand, the father of its macabre little family. He lifted it with the same care a collector would a preserved butterfly. With a fingertip he mapped out the valleys and ridges of bones and strong sinew along the back. Turning it over, he traced the lifeline etched across its palm that had most definitely lied. The way the scar cleaving his lips tingled and burned had nothing to do with the savage grin that split Tomura’s face. He rubbed his chin to be sure the feeling of blood drooling down it was only a phantom from his buried past.

He didn’t need to know its origins to realize how special Father was.

Revulsion and exhilaration surged up from his center as he pressed the precious memento mori over his face like a mask. His roiling emotions alchemized into something he had yet to name, its crystallized shape strange but stable. At last, the feel of cold, waxen flesh molded to his cheeks, of stiff, dead fingers in his hair, chased away the fantasy of hot, living ones. At last, he could think.

With a relieved sigh, Tomura replaced the box’s lid and stood. After feeling trapped, he needed the reassurance of space. He went to his room’s narrow window, pushed aside the curtains, disarmed the little tripwire surprise he’d rigged, and pushed the bottom pane up so he could slither out onto the fire escape.

The night air reeked of the refuse piled in the alley below. This definitely wasn’t high on his list of favored spots, but it was better than nothing. At least the temperature was being kind to his skin, not too warm or humid, not to cool or dry. The rusty skeleton of the fire escape squeaked as he settled himself on the mesh bottom, hugging his knees. Staring up at the void of the sky, a few stars visible through Father’s embalmed fingers, wasn’t so bad either. Everything he could see was warped, discarded, halfway down the path to total ruin. It almost made him feel at home.

A home with dynamics that had changed overnight. But…like it or not he had two new roommates—with more to come, according to Giran. Tomura didn’t have the kind of power to reduce hero society to rubble and ash on his own. Not yet. In the meantime, he had to make do with the next best thing: strength in numbers. It was just…he got so anxious. The concept of living with anyone aside from Kurogiri was bizarre, the thought of having to interact daily with strangers unsettling.

Yet even someone as powerful, as feared and dreaded as Sensei didn’t work alone. If his mentor hadn’t turned his nose up to cooperating with select people, who was Tomura to? He grimaced behind Father, but he could already feel resolve seeping between the seams in his thoughts. One way or another, he’d learn to tolerate his houseguests and how best to use their skills for the greater goal.

Maybe it was his years martial arts training that picked up on some subtle shift in the air. Déjà vu prickled along the back of Tomura’s neck. His head snapped toward the perceived threat on his right.

He caught a flash of a blonde-haired head just before it ducked back inside the next window over.

I’m Toga! Toga Himiko! It’s hard to live!

“Wait,” came from Tomura’s mouth before his conscious mind registered the action. “I’m sorry. About how I acted earlier.” The surprise of those words, in that order, coming from him fell flat compared to the shock of realizing he wasn’t lying.

[stormyreadingsxx]

The WHO and the WHAT

Giving understanding your chart a chance:

Planetary Alignments

Taurus, Pisces.... Even knowing your sun is a Cancer and your rising in Aries is all good and well. But planets add a whole other layer over the way you may function in a sign (or a house but that’s for another post I guess). It’s easy to remember traits about zodiac signs (like fiery elements and the differences between cardinal and fixed) but do you know what sign a given planet is in? If it is in strength or at a weakness? These observations can turn a non-believer of astrology into an advocate.

My Venus is in Virgo (also my sun and moon sign and of course in fall or working against it’s placement) meaning for ME, finding someone who has the capacity to understand my love language or not take advantage of my mutable big three has been hard. I notice a trend of retreating inward without knowing it (when my emotional needs aren’t met), and others need to see and hear things to know... And there is the disconnect. 

Mercury: ☿ The Messenger ~ The clear ruler of communication (and why the retrograde is so fantastically catastrophic, but more on that later), how we take in, let out, and process information is important. Your sun, moon, & rising should be taken into account separately from this. A sun in Scorpio may mean you’re mysterious, emotional (even if you hide it), and a bit brooding but a Mercury in Leo could mean you explain and express yourself with unexpected flair. Understanding this aspect in your chart can help you be a better listener, talker, or find out what kind of people you want to interact with in the long run. 

*I used my Leo Mercury as an example. I go through introverted, critical, and anxious bouts as an overthinking earth sign, but I’ve always had a knack for telling stories and only recently have I discovered this connection. Using humor to cope is comforting to most people, I guess. lol

Venus: ♀︎ The Lover ~ I will admit to using Sailor Senshi to remember my planetary themes, but yes this one is known emphatically as The Lover. In addition to your sun, moon, and Mercury this can give you insight to how you love, your own love language, and how best someone might receive you. My Virgo Venus has doubled down on the earthy acts of service as mine. I’ve always wanted to make sure the people I love and care about are fed (finishing my food if I cannot) and their lives easier (tidying a room, folding laundry etc...). Somewhere along the way, this became easier than words. 

That’s nice and all, but my criticalness and Mercury-ruled energy (A sharp Virgo way with words that can be weaponized and unfocused Gemini-ness that at best is spacey) it’s hard for me to get through to people at times. Understanding yours (or someone else’s) Venus is their approach to romance (so how much more emotionally intelligent do you feel understanding how you communicate and how you approach love ?). 

Mars: ♂︎ The Warrior ~ If Venus is our feminine ~love~ energy, then Mars is obviously the opposite (at least in symbol). What grinds your gears? Turns thoughts and ideas into action? Mars is about expressing (our anger) and how we get what we desire. What is that cost?

Our drives and our passions.... Mine happens to be in Gemini. I love my ability to go with the flow and appeal to all sorts of people, professions, and hobbies. But this energy (even with my earthiness) is unfocused. Lots of thought and brain action (and typing at 3 am asfcgsd) but harnessing it is not always an easy thing for me. If we can be honest here, it never has. 

I can be easily bored (although I will say I’m crushing boredom in quarantine for the most part) and my mercurial ass is actually exhausted and borderline in distress when I’m bored. My mind races and it becomes anxiety. Even hyper-vigilant criticisms of myself. I’ve turned to bottles, pills, and risky behavior to avoid it! Now that I see and understand this cloying longing to feel like I belong everywhere and the way chaos manifests in my space if I’m not well, I begin to understand and fix that. 

I must find balance in the doing and the not doing but I can’t let my mind get bored. I’ve always been a fidgety person and talked with my hands (my massaged cat and friends can attest to both). And I often take on many projects and only the strong survive.... I used to not understand my Gemini rising but the more I talk, the more it make sense (since it is ruled by the Mercury communicator and the area of the hands).

Jupiter: ♃ The Sage ~ Now here’s something maybe everyone can get into. Luck. Jupiter has to do with a lot of luck in our charts, how we improve our lives and show generosity throughout it. For me, though my Jupiter comes in the same sign as my sun and moon (New Moon babies unite), its is actually at it’s detriment or not working as strongly as it could be (a trend I’m noticing with my Virgo placements lmfao).

Investigation will show that I’ve always been good at being persuasive and using warm graces to win someone over. That’s why from customer service to [REDACTED] (rhymes with.... h*x w*rk), I make a good front of house. My need to see a tangible result of progress (in video games, typing things like this out, or reorganizing all my things, creating art) can be attributed to this. For a day dreamer, I have a very grounded chart. 

Saturn: ♄ The Taskmaster ~ Saturn, Saturn, Saturn.... Known of course by the infamous return, the one denoting when different clusters of generations ‘grow up’ (and I’m pretty sure I’m about due for AND going right through mine but I deleted co__star lmao), some associate with death. The end. Saturn is associated with restriction and limitation. Boundaries. This all sounds negative, but Saturn brings with it structure and meaning. A good relationship and understanding yields great things for life!

“Saturn is often associated with our fathers or father/authority figures. In childhood, the discipline, rules, and regulations imposed on us by our authority figures–from parents, teachers, and the like–were not always pleasant, but they actually helped us to understand the world around us. Similarly, Saturn’s lessons actually help us to grow.”

Ouch.

I will try to let this speak for itself and not project TOO much of my own chart as if you care, but I’ve only recently seen so deeply into what makes up who I am astrologically. I’ve always had a bit of a struggle with boundaries. Initiating them. Holding my space and comfort over others.

I was born during a New Moon and at LEAST one retrograde. 

Saturn.

I can condemn myself for that or I can keep going, deeper and see why and how going forward I don’t fall into the same pitfalls (or maybe give myself a little compassion seeing that others have struggled my struggle). It does kind of feel like the whole world is on it’s Saturn return right now, though. 

Uranus: ⛢ The Revolutionary ~ My Uranus was also in retrograde during my birth. I do feel conflict at this time of riots, protests, and rampant and unrepentant police brutality. People who look just like me die in the streets, in police custody, somewhere in strange circumstances. Vulnerable to covid and staying to help my parents, my place isn't at protests even if it feels like my heart is. I do my part to speak my mind and perspective, donate and raise awareness. Support my allies on the lines in the ways I can. 

I cannot lie and say the present doesn’t scare me. Or being tear-gassed, detained indefinitely, thrown in jail or court, or disappeared. All of it. 

“Uranus is quite at home in the eighth house of resurrections. You are naturally open and support change. “Change is good,” is your constant motto. Re-inventing yourself from time to time sounds like a good idea to you. You couldn’t possibly have it otherwise. Life would be boring without change. Your style and pace of bringing about change though may leave others dazed and breathless. The style of change that you prefer can be destructive to those around you. Your good intentions are never at doubt though. It’s just that you are addicted to your ideas and you sometimes overlook human emotions. Your natural impatience with status quo drives you to move fast leaving the staid behind.”

Maybe I jump ahead getting to houses, but I wanted to switch it up. Though Uranus was essentially moving backwards when I was born (and that seems to not bode well), the house (which can speak to a best way to reach the potential of your placements) seems to have kept me from losing all discernment and ability to adapt. 

On the topic of revolution among other things, I feel conflicted. Helpless. Futile. I’m finding my way through that, but it is almost awe-inspiring to see a struggle mapped out in the charts while I go through it. 

Neptune: ♆ The Dreamer ~ Didn’t I say earlier I’m a bit grounded for a daydreamer? A lot of my daydreams (and borderline escapism lol) are rooted and threaded in reality (especially since covid and damn near martial law have changed everyone’s perceptions of such). I have some far out dreams, but the content in my head could be shockingly close to reality sometimes. I love playing Animal Crossing and other general life simulations and always have.

Your vision of an ideal world may center around respect for rules, order, responsibility, and morality. You need to believe in the realizability of your dreams, and this means that your fantasies usually have a very realistic thread to them. There is a conservative, possibly somewhat cynical element to your nature. Because general optimism/faith does not typically carry or motivate you, energy levels may not be high when you don’t believe in what you’re doing, and inspiration is not easy to find in the first place. However, you can turn a dream into reality more easily than most. Your vision is practical but also doable.

I really am this optimistic-pragmatic-realistic but hardworking ???? person. My Neptune was also in retrogrograde during my birth. It has not hindered my creativity but even that is met with rigid expectations and an expected method for madness. I could stand to be dreamier and I work to inspire a calming, soothing, dreamy atmosphere (essential oils, Virgo 4th house things). But this may be why I always have my brain never too far in the clouds. Not without stimuli. 

Pluto: ♇ The Transformer ~ Ah, Pluto is the Ruler of Scorpio. A deep cut in my chart but I have always had a bad habit of falling deep, deep into the well of a watery Scorpio even though I should know better. Renew and Rebirth hits my experience with them on the head. At it’s worst, these planetary placements can promote a hedonistic greediness. ‘Everyone is bad so I must be too’ and a real commitment to harming those before you can get smited (because we’ve all been smited). 

I don’t have a lot of water in my chart personally, but this can help account for my intensity in search of connections (and why unlike a lot of my peers I pull away for long periods and go all in again, almost cyclical in a place where everyone’s always booed up).

Pluto in Scorpio may try to remain positive so strongly that they find themselves in denial, finding out when it is too late about all that was happening right under their noses.

Bingo.

Being strong and able to deal comes with a certain detachedness, a wall others cannot or will not try to breach. Understanding this will help me bring some of it down, right?

Are you interested in hunting down your birth time now? Try paring some of these tidbits or do your own planet research and pair it with the rest of your chart. You might start getting answers. 

[msemerj-blog]

What IS a game?

What IS a game anyway?

Today I’ll talk a little bit about what games are, how they came to be and WHY they’re probably the best thing since…you guessed it, sliced bread.

Y’know, games aren’t something that modern society has now evolved in to. When I say “modern society” I mean MODERN society, the society where we grab our switch and hold it like a clutch purse and pull it up on the bus so we can catch a Pokemon or something. I’m talking about real games. Games we used to play when we were kids, when our parents were kids, when th- okay you get it.

I’m talking about Hide and Seek, the beginning of our lecture from Mr.Games himself who teaches our Introduction to Game Development class.

Honestly I used to play way too much Hide and Seek when I was a kid, to the point where I’m sure a lot of people have done, quite terrifyingly got lost. That was my last game actually, I haven’t played since. Anyway, did you know that Hide and Seek is actually traced back to Greece from the 2nd century? It’s around the same type of game called “Apodidraskinda” in Greek, but in modern days it’s called kryfto.

The differences between todays games, whether digital or in real life, are generally this; Digital games, can be used to portray the world in a way that you could never be able to in real life. For instance, I can hop on to Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood and jump from building to house to towers in Rome, leaping through time and space itself. In real life, you are confined to what your own imagination can give you,

We all play games because we’re bored, we find it fun, we want to escape, to bond with people, and a lot of different reasons, hundreds of them under the sun. Take a moment to really think about it, why do YOU play games?

Remember, when you’re looking to become someone who will be designing games, think about the player, think about their experience. You’re responsible for every part of that game, the objectives, the rules and everything else under that. In my opinion, just because I make a game and enjoy it, or make a game that I want, that doesn’t mean everyone else will find joy in it. You are advocating for the player, not for yourself. The gameplay is one of the most important part of making your game. Which brings me to our next topic, playtesting.

Dead By Daylight, PUBG, League of Legends, Overwatch. These are some of the games that involve betas and playtesting. These may be completed games at its core, but the developers still remember that without the players feedback, their games are actual trash to be honest, and while yes, some companies like to ask for feedback and then throw it out the window, only to go back to what their players were complaining about, in the end playtesting is what they needed in order to communicate with their player base and improve their games in all aspects!

Falling in love with your game is important, but being blinded by your love for your game is a HUGE risk. This is why it’s super important to have other people test your game for you. You should have a lot of these qualities, which is so important to being a successful game designer, commication, teamwork, being able to work under pressure because deadlines are a real thing. One of the most horrible thing in my opinion is when game companies reveal a big date for a project or a beta, then fail to meet the deadline. Just remember, in the end, video games are supposed to be fun, interactive and player-sided, remember that and you’ll do great!

We were also told to compare the games Go Fish and Quake, Gold Fish is a card game played by 3-6 people, everyone gets 5 cards, and in the end the person without a card left, wins. On the other hand, Quake is a 3D game, it’s single player on a computer. You have to defeat monsters, you get power ups you shoot and kill there’s levels and so much more.

My point is, both of these are completely opposite in how they’re played, and going back to earlier where I said one is real life, and one is digital, both are STILL games. The most obvious similarity between the two are PLAYERS, as in you literally need players to use these products, to play the game. The only difference at its core is that one is single player, and the other one needs at least 3 people to play. Both games need people to be thinking logically, strategically, and in both cases in the end, the player just wants to WIN.

Games have objectives, the objective in most cases is to get to the end, or to win. Go fish? Match your cards and win. In Quake? Just reach to the end of each level alive. The point brought up in the lecture was that in games, objectives are vital in structuring the experience and motivating players. In movies we don’t have any of that, we just watch the movie and that’s the end.

Procedures, outlining the actions or methods of play allowed by the rules, ie; guiding the players behaviour. Rules are definitely a necessity in any game we play to be honest, without them nobody would know where to go in any single player game. Whether it’s linear, open world or just a team deathmatch in Call of Duty.

Resources are also extremely important, like in Quake, Fallout, Call of Duty, or any other FPS, RPG or Card game. Guns, ammo, points, powers, perks, etc. For instance, in Dead by Daylight I can spawn in to the map, open a chest and get a med-kit so I can heal myself if I need to.

Conflict is when a game throws you the end of a level, there it is! Just reach the end you can see the door! Except now that you walk forward, oh no, there’s 25 enemies. Kill them to go forward. Which brings us to boundaries, let’s say you see that same door, and the 25 enemies, and think okay well I’ll just go around them and get to the door without killing the enemies. Absolutely not. That’s not how the developers wanted you to play, that’s not how it’s supposed to be experienced! So the developers put boundaries so we don’t go outside the intended play area.

Challenges, another form of conflict in games. Challenges create tension in your games, and teach you to resolve a problem, like in Until Dawn, you must choose a ridiculous amount of options in a super short amount of time, and depending on what you choose, it’s literally life or death, so you must choose wisely. You also have to remember that putting too many challenges makes a game boring, so be careful not to include something so frustrating that it’ll make the player want to rage quit out of your game and forget to come back. Make it something either satisfying, or something that will completely alter the way it’s played whether it’s good or bad.

The concept of the word “play” is really tough to describe personally. It’s tough to really define what it is, because in my opinion I think of play as a positive connotation, but then I’ll see someone on twitch playing League of Legends and they die and slam their fists on their keyboards and screaming at the monitor at their teammates. Yes, they’re angry, but they’re still…PLAYING the game.

Play can be serious, happy, fun, sad, it can be everything, but in my personally opinion, play should definitely at the core be FUN. When I’m playing a game I should be having fun, no matter what. It should inspire imagination, it should engage the player.

Characters and stories in games can be both held hand in hand. Being attached to a story, to the lore, and to the character is so common in single player games these days. For example, I remember in the first Portal game, Chell wasn’t even Chell, she wasn’t anything. She was just “player” she had no story she had no background. There were bits and pieces, until fans dug stuff up and berated valve with questions, asking them to define who Chell is, who IS she? Why is she there? What’s her story? So in Portal 2 they went deeper, they gave her a background, we were attached to this once no named character. Now we love her, we love GladOS, and we’re still waiting for Portal 3 by the way…Valve? Are you scared of the number 3?

Anyway, putting Valves fear of the number 3 aside, my conclusion is that games are games, doesn’t matter if you’re playing hide and seek, Mario Party, Smash, or if you’re playing a game in your head that the floor is lava. In the end, when designing your game, remember that the players are what’s important. Remember that their feedback, and their criticism is what’s going to make you a successful game.

[thesundowncrew]

The Sundown Crew’s rp plotting cheat-sheet

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.

Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name: Dee OOC Contact: Tumblr IM

Who the heck is/are my muse(s) anyway:

In the main crew, we have Sammy, a nerdy ghoul boi who is the embodiment of Samhain (of the Celtic calendar) and Guardian of the Veil; Nightshade, his soul-sister and cat-turned-human witchy familiar; and last but not least Axel, the sadistic, cannibal crow mythos who’s only interested in revenge and fucking people (up).

They’re all super old and supernatural and 2/3 are always happy to meet new people!

Points of interest:

Samhain & Nightshade: guarding the Veil, keeping the balance, protecting innocent humans and mythos alike, adventuring and exploring new places, meeting people and learning new things. Sammy enjoys reading, treasure-hunting and getting lost in his research. Nightshade enjoys cooking, eating, listening to music, and keeping up with the latest memes.

Axel: looking for the biggest, baddest, toughest rivals he can fight to the death with, enjoys challenges, exploring new places, witnessing genocides and mass-murders, causing genocides and mass-murders, fucking people (up) psychologically and physically.

What they’ve been up to recently:

Samhain & Nightshade: their work and responsibilities as Guardians of the Veil. Though the Veil is at its thinnest during Hallow’s Eve (31st Oct), they work 24/7 by hunting malicious spirits and whatever dangerous creatures threatening both humans and mythos that are already existing in the world. When not on the job, they’re either out sight-seeing and visiting friends or chilling at home. They also run a small business from home by making potions, charms and selling spells or rare ingredients. Merchants and traveling caravans often stop by their place so they always have a lot of stock to trade.

Axel: whatever the fuck he wants. Mostly spends his time hunting down prey in the human world, or spreading his wings and exploring new and faraway lands/dimensions. He’s still on his quest to journey to Hell and get his revenge on the demoness who killed his whole family. Always easier said than done, but he’s patient and he plays the long game better than anyone.

Where to find them:

The crew live on an abandoned, magickal island called Sundown. Geographically, it’s somewhere up in Northern Ireland but can’t be marked on any human map. It was magickal long before any of them settled there and because of its supernatural properties, it can hide itself from the naked eye. At the same time the island and its forests are connected to every labyrinth, maze and neck of the woods across worlds and dimensions.

Samhain is always saying that the island has a mind of its own and likes to spirit people away, regardless if their living or dead. People either end up in Sundown when they least expect it, or because it’s where they’re supposed to go.

While you can easily find Samhain and Nightshade at home, Axel can’t stay cooped up in once place too long and travels all over the place. When he’s not hunting, he escapes to the quiet of the wild or the bustling big cities.

Current plans:

The narrative starts with Samhain and Nightshade already experts in their fields and doing their jobs as Guardians of the Veil, and continues with them helping Axel achieve his goal of ultimate payback. The timeline for this blog is infinite after that because I haven’t quite figured out the endgame for anything just yet. Which is why any plot that involves Axel killing Ketele, getting his heart back, and even Nightshade’s life after Samhain’s death, is considered an AU.

In terms of plans for this blog, I’m still working on things so that they can fall into place and serve as proper material for a comic. Once I’ve gotten all my ideas sorted out, those AUs might probably not stay AUs and end up being one huge main timeline.

Desired interactions:

I’d love more threads that explore the darker side of Samhain, whether it’s in the Mainverse or in any of the AUs where he’s not his usual, warm, friendly self or where he’s morally grey. Which is why I love writing him in his criminal verses! Some of my faves are: - Pirate AU: He’s the first-mate and quartermaster who has the gift of ‘Sight’ but he’s as pirate as they come. - Green Eyed Devil: Human-Ghoul hybrid bandit whose crew would do almost anything for money. - Mobprince AU: Classy and more reserved, the quiet but bloodthirsty type. I’ve always been a fan of mobs/gangs/syndicates. - Dark!Samhain: Angsty, overpowered hermit. I rarely get opportunities to write him in this verse which is a shame because I’d like to develop it more.

Nightshade’s all fun and games but once in a while, it’d be refreshing for Nightshade to do a serious thread. Like maybe deal with heavier, more sensitive topics. I’ve emphasized how she’s seen the same amount of horror Samhain has seen but comes out more mentally resilient in comparison, so I’d really like to explore that more about her. I also feel like she hasn’t been able to really connect with anyone as a real friend?? Idk how to explain it but like, I feel like she just floats between different muses and she’s so friendly with everyone, it’s hard to pinpoint whether there is a real connection between them or if it’s just Nightshade being...Nightshade? It’s none of my partners’ faults BTW! I’m reminding me to fix that about myself and how I write her.

Speaking of darker topics, I don’t mind pushing the boundaries when it comes to Axel as long as it doesn’t make anyone uncomfortable. I used to write some disturbing shit with him back in the day (like he broke into a drug lord’s flat and killed everyone in it so he could use it as his personal nest, killed and ate two police officers who were investigating the break-in, mutilated, tortured and ate a rapist alive after catching him in the act etc.). But the partners I used to write with are long gone and I feel like Axel needs to get back into the game again.

Offered interactions:

All of the above as well as anything else from my list of AUs! As mentioned on the page, that list is not the TOTAL list of AUs I’ve got. Some are just really small and still in development, and not enough to justify getting a spot on that list. Honestly, I’m open to plotting and coming up with more AUs so if you’ve got an idea, just hmu! I’ve also got a tag for ‘au ideas’ so you can browse there too if you like and tell me if anything strikes your fancy~

Current open post/s:

I don’t make open posts or starters. I prefer writing starters once my partner and I have something in mind and we’ve plotted enough to go about it.

Anything else?:

Though the blog is advertised as a WEEKEND blog (cus I work 9-5 on weekdays), I am usually lurking online thanks to mobile and will answer IMs when free. I don’t like replying to threads on mobile so I’ll usually reply on the weekends. Unless I’m busy that weekend, then sometimes I change up the rules and reply on a Friday or whenever I’m able.

When I reply to threads, I like to release a bunch at a time and then I’ll tag my partners so that they can see how many threads I’ve replied to out of the total count, like so! The total count often changes because we could have dropped threads in between, or partners go on hiatus and they get moved from ‘ongoing’ to ‘cold’ threads. Because of this, I have a threads page which I try my best to update.

Tagged by Stolen from: @bengalisms

[rememberthattime]

Chapter 54. Scotland

“Sing me a song of a lass that is gone

Say, could that lass be Chelsay?

Merry of soul she sailed on a day

Over the sea to Skye”

Those lyrics are from an 1870s song about Scotland’s Prince Charlie fleeing from the British after his failed Jacobite rebellion. ...They’re also from the Outlander theme song, but just ignore that.  

I’m using them because the lyrics are a perfect introduction to Chelsay and I’s Scotland escape following lockdown.

I wrote about the lockdown in the last post, but the past five months have been… uncomfortable. Chelsay and I made it through relatively easily, but months of stay-at-home orders, minimal social activity, and the daily onslaught of terrible news take their toll.

Chelsay and I also hadn’t taken a single day off since we started in London six months ago. Without the chance to travel, we didn’t want to waste our vacation days sitting at home. All of this culminated in a pent-up desire for adventure. To get away from the house, the city, and the news.

Flights and international travel aren’t quite safe yet, but luckily we have Chelsay’s favorite travel destination in our own backyard: Scotland.

One of the only small benefits of lockdown has been the extra time to plan trips. I mentioned in the last post that I booked fully cancelable trips throughout the year, preparing for whenever lockdown measures eased. I knew the Puglia and Lakes District trips in April and May had little chance, but a road trip to Scotland in July MIGHT be possible. I scoured the news throughout lockdown, interpreting every story in the context of possible travel: “Did you see France is opening up in May - good sign. And the UK said they might open restaurants in June...”

Chelsay quickly got tired of my over-analysis, but finally, in June, the Scottish government announced they’d reopen for tourists on July 15. I’d booked the trip back in April, but nailed the start date: July 17. Nostra(vel)damus.

With a flood of confidence and excitement, I used our remaining lockdown time to smooth any potential hurdles throughout the trip. Downloading offline maps, saving every possible location we’d visit, researching the best trails and how to avoid crowds - even trawling Google Street View to find where to park (difficult given how rural Scotland is).

We left a bit later on Friday afternoon than planned, so our six hour Day 1 drive had us crossing the Scottish border around 11 pm. That said, Chelsay downloaded some excellent podcasts to pass the time: Dolly Parton’s America and Serial Season 3.

Day 2 is when the trip really began. And within 5 minutes of arriving at our first destination, Glencoe, the dream of our Scottish escape became reality.

We’d visited Glencoe on our 2016 road trip through Scotland, but I planned the 2020 visit slightly differently. Namely, I accommodated a dog. I found a quieter trail far from the road, but still providing dramatic views of the undulating valley.

Maybe it was freedom from the previous day’s drive, but Indy seemed entirely in his element. He was darting off path, investigating small waterfalls along the trail, and thoroughly enjoying every bit of his border collie homeland.

Chelsay and I were swept up in the setting too. This wasn’t stuffy London – it was nature… Raw nature… Raw nature happening all at once: wind, clouds, sun, and rain all within 10 minutes. These are the elements in Scotland, but it didn’t bother us at all. In fact, it was invigorating. After months of being cooped-up at home, we felt so much freedom just steps into our first walk.

I was also overwhelmed by another emotion: adventure. It’d been so long that I hardly recognized the feeling. You start the day in one place – at home, in your routine.  Then, suddenly, you step out of the car, train, or plane, and you’re transported to a different planet. What happened to your routine? Work, cooking, doing the dishes… all gone. Your attention is completely captured by what’s in front of you: colourful Italian villas, wild Australian outback, open Indian Ocean. Glencoe may only be a few hundred miles from London, but this adventurous feeling took Chelsay & I worlds away.

Now, when I say Scotland took us worlds away, I could have been more precise: it took us specifically to the Wizarding world (of Harry Potter).

This was especially true when visiting Glenfinnan Viaduct. Here, the Jacobite steam train passes through a scenic valley along a viaduct twice a day… But the picturesque backdrop isn’t what makes this experience so popular. It’s the fact that the train & viaduct are portrayed as the Hogwarts Express in Harry Potter. As steam billowed into the air and the locomotive let out a whistle, Chelsay jumped around and triumphantly pumped her fist. Indy had the opposite reaction, running away from the booming train as it chugged by.

After a quick stop at fairy-tale castle Eilean Donan, Chelsay and I wrapped up our long journey from London, finally arriving in Balmaqueen on the northern tip of Skye. This trip was really to celebrate Chelsay’s 30th birthday, so I splurged a bit on a holiday cottage. Immediately upon our arrival, Chelsay and I wished we could move here permanently.

First, the cottage was completely renovated – it’s rare for a place this remote to offer Nespresso, Netflix, and digitally-controlled shower, but the owners had thoughtfully accommodated every modern comfort.  Second, and far more significant, the cottage maximized its stunning scenery. Two reclining chairs faced out through the cottage’s wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows. Some of my best memories from this trip are the quiet mornings Chelsay and I spent in these recliners, sipping coffee while staring out at peaceful pastures and the surrounding North Atlantic sea.

We spent the next three days exploring Skye’s wild landscapes. We’d visited Skye in our 2016 Scotland roadtrip, but despite being a relatively small island (two hours from end-to-end), the 2020 itinerary was almost entirely unique. Chelsay & I only repeated one experience from the previous trip: the Quiraing, our favorite hike in the entire world.  

Minutes into the hike, we were reminded of the Quiraing’s desolate beauty. My description from the last Scotland trip is still spot-on:  

“I’ve never seen solid land twist and turn in this way – the blending brown and olive hues, the fact that there were no trees, and the smooth bending earth made land look like waves.

For some reason, there’s something about this desolate sight that I love: just us, empty space, and open sky (Skye, pun?). There are no city sounds or buildings or buses or people, and there are no boundaries. Just boundless expanse.”

Despite repeating many of the same views, this experience was still unique for two reasons:

First, Indy introduced a new dangerous element. In London, we worry about him invading an unsuspecting picnic. At the Quiraing, a wrong turn could lead him off a cliff. He earned our trust by staying nearby for the first 15 minutes, and we figured border collies are smart enough to safely stay on-trail. We let him off-leash and immediately regretted it – he’s an idiot. He started bounding around the bouncy moss and, next thing we knew, he’d jumped off a 12 foot crag. OMG – is he dead!? I was taking a picture at the time so you can see how big of a vertical drop it was... Thank god he popped up like nothing happened! The only reason he didn’t break both legs was because he awkwardly landed on his face and chest. Needless to say, he was back on leash until the path became safer.  

The other difference from our previous visit was the weather. In 2016, Chelsay & I had to have visited on the hottest day in Scottish history (consequently, we packed extra water this time). In 2020, the weather was back to its normal, turbulent self. The hike started with patches of blue sky – Chelsay and I actually took our jackets off during a quick lunch. It was perfectly pleasant, until Chelsay quietly mumbled “Uh oh” under her breath. I turned around to see billows of rain tumbling over a cliff face about half a mile away. An entire ocean of rain. It looked like the dead invading Hard Home in Game of Thrones.

You could tell it was moving fast so as you read, keep in mind, the following sequence of events happened in under 20 seconds. First, I yelled “Initiate protocol!” (as if Chelsay & I had trained for this) and we hastily packed everything, especially hiding our electronics. Chelsay crouched behind a hill to brace from the wind & rain, and god bless him, Indy INSTINCTIVELY darted underneath her! I’ll never forget his terrified little body sprinting over and literally diving into the hillside. He’d seen exactly what I’d seen (the Army of the Dead) and wanted no part of it. The dowsing ambush only lasted 10 minutes, and thanks to our waterproof gear, we survived... though I’ll never forget Indy’s panicked reaction.

There was actually a second memorable weather-induced experience this trip. Although the storm had passed, heavy clouds remained and completely enveloped the peak. The fog line was very unusual though: there was a distinct line between dense fog and unspoilt views, which gave us two entirely unique feelings. At the top, the brooding clouds felt ethereal and mysterious. We couldn’t see more than 50 yards. Meanwhile, the descent ensured we wouldn’t be robbed of the spectacular setting, providing pristine views of the sweeping landscape.

Similar to our 2016 trip to Skye, the Quiraing was the highlight of our time on the island. That isn’t a surprise: as I said earlier, it’s our favorite hike in the world. That said, our other adventures on Skye were similarly invigorating.  

After the Quiraing, we made a brief some at Neist Point, where a lonely lighthouse sits at the edge of a craggily outcrop. Chelsay, Indy, and I looked on as the North Atlantic waves crashed below, seagulls squawking as they swooped toward the water. What makes Neist Point especially unique is its undulating shape: similar to my quote from the Quiraing, I didn’t know solid land could twist & turn this way.  

The next day, we’d embark on our longest hike of the week: Camasunary Bay, a secluded cove only accessible by foot or boat. This hike doesn’t really have a peak, but rather a long journey through open farmland, leading to a secret beach at the base of the Black Cuillin Mountains.

Along the way, Indy met a fellow border collie named Clyde. I’ll first say that it was extremely rare to bump into people in Scotland (which I loved), but when we did, they often had border collies (which I also loved). Indy had only met one other border collie while in London… and its name is ironically Skye! He met at least 10 in just four days on the island.

Anyway, Indy and Clyde played around in an open heath overlooking the quiet bay. Indy again jumped off a ledge from way too high, this time falling into a bush… He really is an idiot, but again managed to avoid injury.

We completed the long walk without further issue, though Chelsay and I were exhausted by the end. After the Quiraing and Camasunary Bay on back-to-back days, we could hardly feel our legs. Our massive Amatriciana dinner that night revived us, and was hands down the best meal all trip.

We moved very slowly the next day – I’d say we didn’t want to overwork Indy’s juvenile joints, but really our >30-year-old knees couldn’t take anymore. We managed one shorter walk: Old Man of Storr. This is actually the most famous attraction on Skye, but Chelsay and I had previously avoided it due to its popularity. Thanks to Covid though, the crowds were scarce, and we pretty much had the trail to ourselves.

The next day, we departed Skye for Scotland’s far north, Assynt, which is somehow more topographically extreme than Skye.  This terrain pushes most Assynt hikes out of Indy’s (our knees’) range, though there was one feasible option: Stac Pollaidh. “Stac Polly” is just a four-mile hike, but its 1,700 foot elevation provides both a healthy challenge and a view that ‘punches above its weight.’

This view is hidden throughout the ascent, but once you reach the top, the scenery is stunning. It’s like nowhere Chelsay and I have been – like a Scottish Monument Valley: lonely monoliths looming over a basin of stony cnocs and boggy lochs. The setting beneath us had the topographical diversity of an entire continent!

We were due to stay in Assynt for a few days, but decided to make a rare mid-trip audible for two reasons:

Our entire Assynt itinerary was hikes, and we were exhausted. It was time to rest.

Our AirBnb was haunted.

In our 50+ trips while abroad, we hardly ever make such drastic mid-trip changes, but we’ve gotten to the age where we want a little relaxation in our vacation… free from ghosts. Thanks to my Booking.com status (and the Covid-induced absence of travel demand), we found a shockingly affordable alternative:  Thainstone House, a country mansion in Aberdeenshire.

Aberdeenshire is in Scotland northeast, just above Inverness. Its known for its pastural setting (and steak), but also its salty sea coastline. It’s a few hours away from Assynt, yet our couple stops en route proved our audible was the right call.

First, we stopped in the small fishing village of Lossiemouth. I don’t remember anything about the town… We were really just visiting for the four-mile long beach, accessible by crossing a short bridge over the surrounding canal.

Well, the bridge was closed, but the canal’s water levels seemed low enough. After getting drenched at the Quiraing, crossing this dry creek wouldn’t be an issue.  

Wrong. The next hour was eventful, so I’ll break it down in bullet form:

First, the creek was slightly deeper in certain places, but Chelsay remained dry in her tall rainboots. My duck boots were too short, so our solution was that I’d jump on Chelsay’s back, and she’d carry me through this short stretch…

This plan lasted two small steps before she dropped me in the river. My feet were soaked, but no worry. We had all our clothes in the car, so I’d just change when we get back.

We arrived at the beach, an immaculate stretch of empty sand and surf. Apparently, no one else ‘braved’ the canal, because Chelsay, Indy, and I had the beach to ourselves. Well, except the dolphins and seals we saw along the shore! The entire setting was gorgeous: wind-swept grass, endless sandy expanse, and clear waters quietly crashing along the shore.

After thoroughly tuckering Indy out, we decided to head back to the car. One problem, the tide had changed, and the dry creek was now a FLOWING RIVER! WHAT!? We hadn’t even considered the tide when we ventured out… It was too shallow to even think about!

…The emptiness of the beach now made a lot more sense.

Already wet (from being dropped earlier), we decided the only way back was through. The below video is from the SAFER portion of our fording experience. Imagine the scene on the deeper side: Chelsay and I. Waist deep in the river. Fully submerged in shame.

This story may sound familiar… In fact, it’s happened to us before. In Scotland. It was Loch Coruisk, and Chelsay & I were forced to ford a river to catch a once-a-day ferry. What is it about us and Scottish rivers…

Back on dry land, Chelsay and I continued our Aberdeenshire tour through three more small towns: Fordyce, a 13th century hamlet where we stopped at the town’s Old Kirk (church) for lunch; followed by Crovie and Pennan, two salty fishing villages with single-row housing along the seafront.  …After the river ordeal earlier, we didn’t stick around to see what high tide was like.

We pulled into Thainstone House around 4 pm on Thursday, and the car didn’t move until Saturday around 10 am. That kind of dormancy is RARE for Chelsay & I. The only other vacation where we didn’t leave our accommodation for 36 straight hours was Fiji… where the entire island was our accommodation.

The grounds of Thainstone served as an ‘island’ of sorts for Chelsay & I. There was no reason to leave because the manor met every need: elegant dining, dog-friendly trails, cozy rooms, soothing lounges, and plenty of wine & scotch to occupy our leisure time. Chelsay thinks the staff even tailored to our Americanness: they kept playing Chris Stapleton whenever we were in a room alone.

We were sad to leave on Saturday. Not only had we appreciated the slower pace, but we also knew the next two days required driving 11 hours on our way back to London. That said, we had a few noteworthy stops.

First, a brief visit to Castle Fraser, where we stopped for coffee, scones, and walk. This short break was a reminder of the perks of living in Europe: even road trip stopovers included a fairy-tale castle.

We also stopped in St. Andrews, a small, charming college town north of Edinburgh. Over the next few hours, we walked the campus grounds (regarded as one of the best universities in the world and alma mater to Prince William, the future King); took in St. Andrews cathedral (built in the 12th century); and walked the St. Andrews golf grounds (known as ‘home of golf’ and site of the first round in the 15th century). Indy wasn’t impressed – he pooped on the Old Course.

And that was it. That was our trip. We just had one overnight stop in Peebles, Scotland before arriving back home in London…

Well, except… This stop turned out to be the highlight of our entire trip. I’ve genuinely rushed through the last 3,000 words to finally get to this part.

Chelsay & I had an entire castle to ourselves!  

Backing up: I’d initially reserved different accommodation in Peebles, but the owner had accidently double booked. They were very apologetic, and offered an alternative: the ‘Queen Mary suite’ in Neidpath Castle.

I had no idea what she was talking about… I checked the website: a 13th century castle that has hosted Mary, Queen of Scots, her son King James, and poet William Wordsworth. …Yeah, I’ll take the castle!  

Despite this anticipation, our stay still exceeded my expectations. When booking, I thought we’d only be staying in the ‘Queen Mary suite’: a bedroom with accompanying lounge. There were probably other guest rooms though, right?  

Wrong. We pulled up, the owner gave us the keys to the entire castle, and wished us a great stay.

We immediately began running up and down spiral staircases, through corridors, past dungeons, into dining halls, and around the castle’s chapel. We were like little kids. The only other time our hotel had elicited this reaction was in the Maldives (and two days earlier at the country manor… and four days before that at the Skye cottage…).

The castle is so large that we actually lost one another multiple times. One time, Chelsay & I were together but had no idea where Indy had gone… I whistled, but we didn’t hear anything. No movement. We started to worry that maybe he’d gotten hurt or stuck somewhere. We whistled again, but still nothing.  

Suddenly, a *scraaaaaaaaatttcch* came from behind a door.

Chelsay yelped, assuming it was a ghost. Maybe the same one from that Airbnb in Assynt.

We carefully opened the door *creeeeeek*, only to find Indy staring up at us with his mouth wide open. He was having just as much fun exploring the castle.

It had to have been at least two hours before we finally settled down, cozying next to the fire with a bottle of wine. We reminisced on what a spectacular trip it had been, scrolling through the photos to remind ourselves of all the jaw-dropping landscapes we’d visited.

We couldn’t believe some of the scenery… We had just visited these places… We were in the pictures… Yet the settings didn’t seem real.  Glencoe, Skye, that train Chelsay loved, Stac Polly, the river in Lossiemouth…

Scotland’s rugged beauty seems unbelievable in normal circumstances, but the past week felt like even more of a dream given the preceding months. After nearly half a year in lockdown, our Scottish escape was a reminder of how effortlessly adventure awaits while abroad.  

[catwhite7-blog]

The match proceeds with a sophomore campaign every little as graceful and lovely since prior ones.

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The sprawling supervisors and climactic escapes are tactics to express a larger, additional operatic sense for Will of the Wisps. Blind Forest was a modest small game that told an personal, relatable fable. Wisps comes with a grander, coming scope, and in the process it loses some of that intimacy. It has moments with emotional heft, both thrilling and heartbreaking, and Moon Studios however includes a manner of expressing an extraordinary level of wordless emotion with subtle minutes of body gestures. The story Will of this Wisps is often skinnier, and even its particular touching moments are more bittersweet. The chief antagonist, an owl called Shriek, is similar to the original match's Kuro in having suffered a tragedy previously. However, how the narrative addresses that catastrophe will be significantly propounded, and stands out like a moment of haunting animation which could stay with me personally than any single image from your game. Even the moments of finality which finish the narrative, even though suitably heroic and hopeful, are tinged with silent despair and inevitability--that the meaning which everything ends. This finality can signal that this is actually the last hentai fairy tail game, a farewell into the world and memorable characters that manufactured Moon Studios such a standout developer in the first effort. If that's how it is, you could not ask for a improved send off. hentai fairy tail game is an excellent synthesis of artful style and gorgeous minutes.

[sidwellxcen384-blog]

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Grand Theft Auto V Review Game

For me, GTA V ’s extraordinary range is summed winning inside two favourite moments. Individual becomes from the mid-game mission where I rushed a flat in a different plane, attacked the folks, hijacked the thing, and then parachuted ready and inspected it crash in the ocean to escape death for the supply of pay military fighter aircraft. One more occasion, whilst travel around in the off-road buggy, I got distracted in something looks like a means up among the San Andreas mountains. Turns out it was a avenue, after that I finished 15 minutes respect on the meeting, wherever I nearly ran over the faction of hikers. “Typical!” one of them yelled by everyone, as though he practically gets run over by a rogue ATV together with a mountain every time he goes on the hike.

I could go on this way for ages. GTA V has an plenty of like moments, deep with tiny, that make San Andreas – the location of Los Santos and surrounding areas – feel like a living earth in which anything can take place. It both gives you tremendous freedom to investigate an amazingly well-realised world and orders a story that’s gripping, exciting, and darkly comic. It is a step advance into narrative style for the lines, with there’s no physical component of the gameplay that hasn’t been strengthened over Grand Theft Auto IV. It’s immediately obvious the insurance routine is far more dependable and the auto-aim less touchy. The cars feel less like their tires are made of butter with shove better to the road, although the exaggerated handling still leaves plenty of place for spectacular wipeouts. Also on long past, Rockstar has completely killed among their most persistent demons, mission checkpointing, making sure that you never have to do a long, tedious take six when you repeatedly fail a mission ever again.

GTA V is also an intellectual, wickedly comic, and bitingly relevant commentary about contemporary, post-economic crisis America. All about it drips satire: it flies into the Millennial generation, celebrities, the much exactly, the widely effect, the core school, the media... Nothing is safe from Rockstar’s sharp tongue, including modern video games. One prominent supporting character spends mainly of the moment wearing their bedroom shouting sexual threats in public on the headset whilst showing a first-person shooter called Righteous Slaughter (“Rated PG – pretty much the same as the last game.”) It is not precisely subtle – he practically has the word “Entitled” tattooed in the throat, plus the in-game radio and Television outright piss-takes don’t put much for the imagination – but it is often extremely weird, and a bit provocative with it. Grand Theft Auto’s San Andreas is a fantasy, but the issues this satirises – greed, corruption, hypocrisy, the hurt of right – become many very real. If GTA IV happened a targeted killing of the American dream, GTA V takes point in the new American reality. The attention to factor that assumes making the world feel lively with believable is also what makes the satire so biting.

Grand Theft Auto V ’s plot happily works in the boundaries of plausibility, sending people away to drive dirt bikes along the highest of schools, hijack military plane, and engage in absurd shootouts with tally of policemen, yet it is three main figures become what keep it relatable level at it is many severe. The well-written and worked interplay between them provides the biggest laughs and most affecting times, with the way to their associations with just one another polished with my opinion of them changed throughout the history produced the plot their right. They think that people – albeit extraordinarily f***ed-up people.

Michael is a retired con work into his 40s, block out across the heart like he drinks beside the band now his Vinewood mansion with a layabout son, air-headed daughter, serially unfaithful wife, and very expensive therapist – most of who hate him. Franklin is a son from downtown Los Santos who laments the gang-banger stereotype even as he’s reluctantly seduced by the prospect of an better score. And then there’s Trevor, a hazardous career criminal that days from the wilderness selling drugs and murdering rednecks; a psychopath whose bloodthirsty lunacy is fuelled with a arrangement of methamphetamine along with a genuinely messed-up childhood.

The objective flit among their own original tale then a good overarching plotline which means all three, and a glory to GTA V’s versatility and universal quality that each person cover his bit of standout vision. When the arcs developed I sense very differently on both ones by different ages – they’re not exclusively the archetypes that they are.

This three-character structure causes for excellent rate and extreme form in the storyline, it also allows Rockstar to compartmentalise different aspects of Grand Theft Auto’s personality. In doing this, it sidesteps some of the troubling disconnect that appeared when Niko Bellic abruptly changed between anti-violent philosophising and sociopathic killing sprees in GTA IV. Here, many of Michael’s missions revolve covering their ancestors with the past, Franklin is usually on demand vehicular disorder, with severe murderous charges are permit to Trevor. Each state a unique ability matched to help their talents – Franklin could to help slow time while taking, for example – that ends them a unique touch. Narratively, it’s powerful – even off-mission I found myself playing with nature, acting like a mid-life-crisis gentleman with frustration issues because Jordan, a thrill-seeker as Franklin, and a maniac as Trevor. The first thing I did as Franklin finally do some good cash was believe him a great amazing car, since I touch like that’s exactly what he’d want.

Trevor considers a like a tiny get-out-of-jail-free license for Rockstar, presenting an outlet for all the preposterous actions and deadly behavior which otherwise might not fit in with GTA V’s narrative ambitions. I found his violent insanity a minute overblown and boring at first. Because get-out clauses go, even though, their pretty successful, with Trevor’s over-the-top missions are most of GTA V’s action-packed highlights. It’s a successful way of fixing a quandary that’s prevalent in open-world games: the tension between report the writers want to request, then the tale you develop yourself in their structure and its world. Grand Theft Auto V accommodates both, masterfully, allowing not to challenge the other.

The actual pretense of moving between them also provides a window in personal days with problems, fleshing off their personalities in a way that feels usual and story. Collect a atmosphere and the video camera moves out in the San Andreas map, closing back happening upon where they happen to be. Michael can occur at home watching TV when you release here on him, or race beside the motorway blasting ‘80s attacks, or using a cigarette on the golf club; Franklin can live moving away from a strip club, munching a case of snacks at home, or arguing with his ex-girlfriend; there’s a good prospect to Trevor could be tossed out half naked on the beach surrounded with over groups or, one memorable occasion, down in a stolen police helicopter.

It could be nearly everything, because there is a bewildering variety of details to do in the original San Andreas – tennis, yoga, hiking, people on sea then about ground, flying planes, golfing, cycling, diving, hunting, and more. The vision are a great intelligent leader to both San Andreas’ locations and its activities, visit people about the map and whetting the appetite for free exploration of it all. How that we’re established to San Andreas never feels artificial – the plan is fully open in the opening, for example – which says to the notion to the a real place, where you can get to know. If GTA IV’s Liberty City feels like a living city, San Andreas feels like a living world. I get people going their pet alongside the sand in the country so I jet-skied past, arguing for the street outside a cinema with Los Santos, and camped – with covering then anything – overnight in Support Chiliad, before packing positive with lasting a backpack in the morning. The astounding.

The ambience changes dramatically counting in where you are, also. Trevor’s dusty trailer out in the middle of nowhere in Blaine County feels like another earth through downtown Los Santos or Vespucci Beach. It wasn’t until the first time I take off a jet from the capital with on the mountains I became cycling around a few hours or that the total range of it became obvious. It shoves the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 more than it has any fine near, and it looks incredible. The biggest spring in property as Grand Theft Auto IV is the character animation, but the world can be much more expansive, detailed, and crowded. The price we buy of which is rare framerate drops and texture pop-in, that i found became more prominent the longer I played, but certainly not significantly taken away through my personal feel. For like a colossal and variable world it is also remarkably bug-free – I met just three minor problems from the 35 hours I spent on the primary playthrough, none that affected everyone to go down a quest.

San Andreas’s extraordinary intelligence of house is heightened by the fact that so much of it isn’t on GTA Full Game the place. There’s so much taking which it is simple find things organically, rather than waste your own lifestyle following a mission marker. I when take a passenger jet from the airport for the hell of it, then parachuted onto the top of the tallest building in Los Santos. (I then accidentally jumped off the highest and reduction toward my death, forgetting to I’d currently employed the parachute, however I normally put that piece off.) Out driving in the country, I fell across a man to a phone rod with womens’ underwear. I tracked down criminals who randomly swipe purses on the lane, with went off across gunbattles between police and other miscreants, incident to give a feel that world isn’t completely uneventful if I wasn’t below to interrupt normalcy. I believed an exclusive mountain cycle with cycled around in the hills, enjoying the sight. These small moments can be got about your own telephone camera – which, brilliantly, can also use selfies. I have some shouts of Trevor completing his unhinged account of a laugh within his underpants on top of a hill.

The rumor to GTA V tells during their missions takes full advantage of all this kind beyond getting with killing (while the maneuver with direct is supremely enjoyable). It’s cause a lot of good times. This included us racing Michael’s lazy blob of a boy across Vespucci Beach in one of many misguided attempts on father-son bonding, utilizing a thermal scope to look for someone from a helicopter before chasing them along the city on the ground, torching a meth lab, towing cars for Franklin’s crack-addict uncle to thwart him through shed the profession, getting into a facility on the beach in a wetsuit and flippers, piloting a marine, impersonating a structure worker, doing yoga, escaping on plane skis, failing multiple generations to earth a jet burdened with drugs at a hangar shown from the wilderness… it goes by with by. The days of a repetitive collections of “get now, find this gentleman, shoot that guy” stay after us. Still missions that would usually be set are filled with novelty with excitement by the capability to compete them by a few different views – in a shootout, Trevor can be exciting RPGs from a rooftop what Jordan and Franklin flank the rival on the ground.

It is the heists – multi-stage, huge-scale experience that help as the story’s climactic peaks – which demonstrate Grand Theft Auto V at their most dedicated and obtained. Usually there’s a choice between a more involved, stealthier option that will (hopefully) attract less boil, along with a great all-out option that will be less tense yet more explosively chaotic – with what exactly crew to take along with you on the job. All of GTA V’s missions are replayable at any time, allowing you relive favourite seconds before look at out a different method. They also have optional objectives in the vein of Assassin’s Creed’s synchronisation challenges, but crucially, these are invisible once people play a quest, therefore they don’t distract a person from performing things your way.

Sometimes your way won’t are the means that this designers require you to do something, with although GTA 5 is usually very good at bending close to people as you do, here were a few situation wherever that wasn’t train for our personal name of chaos. Overtake a car you’re not meant to overtake and it may close in pad of travel as if with secret. Despite the opening of different stealth mechanics, enemies will miraculously make sure you when the mission dictates they should. Kill someone or you’re supposed to, and that’s sometimes Mission Failed. Most of the time the drafting is suitable to be invisible, but as it is not, you really discover this – if only because most of the time it’s so seamless.

As always, some of the wittiest record shows through to the in-game radio to shows behind all of the search and confusion. “There’s nothing other effective, more masculine, new American than a big lump of coins,” blasts one of the in-game ads. “We learn times are tough, but they don’t have to be tough for you. Still cause several liquidity in your home? Are you insane?” The tune selection is also typically excellent, leading to most of those serendipitous moments where you’re driving combined with the right music happens by. During a heist, when the radio isn’t blaring the background, a vibrant soundtrack seriously builds tension.

The satire is improved with integration of advanced life in the game world. Every individual turns around their smartphone – it’s used to trade stocks, call up friends to meet in place then launch emails. There’s a great Facebook spoof, Life Invader, on the in-game Interne, with the slogan “Where Your own Personal Data Becomes A Marketplace Page (Which We Can Go)”. You’ll hear adverts for preposterous parodic TV shows that you can actually watch with your TELEVISION at home, optionally whilst enjoying a toke. It might not be realistic, but it certainly feels authentic.

It’s significance mentioning that when this extends to sexual, drugs, with assault, GTA V pushes boundaries much more than at any time or. If the morality authorities were concerned with Hot Chocolate, there’s a lot here that will provoke moral hysteria. It’s deliciously subversive, and safely tongue in cheek... but after before twice, this shoves the borders of experience, too. There’s one instance scene, a personal world in which you have no alternative bar to help actively participate, i gotten so troubling that we took problems playing this; yet couched in obvious assessment in the US government’s choice to torture post 9/11, it’s a surprising moment that will attract justified controversy. It brings to mind Label of Function: Modern Warfare 2’s No Russian mission, except worse, and without the selection to omit over this. Another stuff, like the ever-present prostitution with extensive strip-club minigames, feels like it’s present even if this may be rather than as it gives anything to say.

There is nothing in San Andreas, though, that doesn’t serve Rockstar’s resolution with creating a exaggerated projection of The usa that’s suffused with crime, assault and sleaze. There are no nice gentlemen in GTA V. All you know is a sociopath, narcissist, criminal, lunatic, sadist, cheat, liar, layabout, or about combination of these. A good guy which gives good funds to help shoot Los Santos’ worst examples of corporate greed is playing the stock exchange to help the help whilst he does it. In the world like this, it’s not tough to escort why violence is often the first option. All the pieces fit.

Verdict

Grand Theft Auto V is not only a preposterously enjoyable video game, but also an intellectual and sharp-tongued satire of contemporary America. It signifies a elegance of the lot to GTA IV gotten to the record five years ago. It’s technically more accomplished in every conceivable system, yet it’s also tremendously committed into a right. No extra earth into record games comes near that now magnitude or scope, and there is strong brains behind the logic of humour and surprise for mayhem. This shows a compelling, unpredictable, and provocative story without actually letting this get in the way of your self-directed journey through San Andreas. It is one of the very best movie games yet produced. Write: That journal exclusively involves the single-player section of GTA 5 , since it launched without any multiplayer mode.

[gigdiyf118-blog]

How to Explain Download GTA gtadownload.org to a Five-Year-Old

Grand Theft Auto V Game description

For me, Grand Theft Auto V ’s extraordinary scope is summed happy throughout a couple favourite moments. One is from the mid-game mission by which I hurried a smooth in another level, fought the crew, hijacked the thing, and parachuted dazed then observed that crash in the sea to escape death on the palm of earnings military fighter jets. Another time, whilst travel in in the off-road buggy, I got distracted in something that seemed like a path up one of the San Andreas mountains. Turns out it was a route, next I committed 15 minutes respect on the meeting, wherever I almost ran on the faction of hikers. “Typical!” one of them yelled in myself, like he nearly gets run over by a rogue ATV on top of a hill each time he goes on a hike.

I could go on like this for ages. GTA V has an loads of like moments, big and tiny, that make San Andreas – the municipality of Los Santos and its surrounding areas – feel like a living earth in which everything can take place. It both gives you tremendous autonomy to check out a astonishingly well-realised globe also requests a story that’s gripping, kicking, and darkly comic. It is a step familiar with narrative sophistication to the collections, and there’s no physical part of the gameplay that hasn’t been increased over Grand Theft Auto IV. It’s immediately noticeable the cover practice becomes other reliable and the auto-aim less touchy. The vehicles handle less like the tires are made from butter with fix better to the road, though their exaggerated handling still leaves plenty of area for spectacular wipeouts. With at long past, Rockstar has completely slain one of the most persistent demons, mission checkpointing, assuring that you never have to do a long, tedious take six when you repeatedly fail a vision ever again.

Grand Theft Auto V can be the intelligent, wickedly comic, and bitingly relevant commentary about contemporary, post-economic crisis America. Anything about it drips satire: it pulls into the Millennial generation, celebrities, the extreme right, the further abandon, the interior rank, the media... Nothing is sound by Rockstar’s sharp tongue, including modern video games. One prominent supporting character spends largely involving their moment here the room shouting sexual threats at public on the headset whilst playing a first-person shooter called Righteous Slaughter (“Rated PG – pretty much the same as the final game.”) It is not specifically subtle – he actually has the word “Entitled” tattooed on the throat, and also the in-game radio and Television outright piss-takes don’t go much to the imagination – but it is often very weird, and a bit provocative with it. Grand Theft Auto’s San Andreas is a fantasy, but the points that satirises – greed, corruption, hypocrisy, the insult of nation – become all very real. If GTA IV was there a targeted murder on the American dream, GTA V takes point at the contemporary American reality. The attention to depth that assumes doing the world feel successful and believable is also what makes the satire so biting.

GTA 5 ’s plot happily works at the boundaries of plausibility, sending anyone not permitted to be carried dirt bikes along the highest of trains, hijack military jets, and do absurd shootouts with reports of policemen, although its three principal individuals are what store this relatable perhaps at the most great. The well-written and proceeded relationship between them provides the biggest laughs and most affecting minutes, with the way which their links with a single another polished and my opinion of them changed over the story granted the story its energy. They think that people – albeit extraordinarily f***ed-up people.

Michael is a retired con person with his 40s, filling out throughout the inside because he drinks beside the pond within their Vinewood mansion with a layabout son, air-headed daughter, serially unfaithful wife, and very expensive therapist – most of which hate him. Franklin is a kid from downtown Los Santos who laments the gang-banger stereotype even as he’s reluctantly seduced by the scene of an better score. And then there’s Trevor, a hazardous career criminal that times in the desert selling drugs with killing rednecks; a psychopath whose bloodthirsty lunacy is fuelled by a mix of methamphetamine with a badly messed-up childhood.

The assignment flit concerning their own special articles and a overarching plotline which affects Get GTA Gratis gtadownload.org all three, and it’s a thanks to GTA V’s versatility and collective quality that each individual gets his share of standout vision. As their arcs developed I considered quite differently on each one of them by different periods – they’re not solely the models that they are.

This three-character structure reaches for exceptional walking and vast make in the storyline, but it also allows Rockstar to compartmentalise different aspects of Grand Theft Auto’s personality. In doing so, it sidesteps some of the troubling disconnect that took place when Niko Bellic abruptly changed between anti-violent philosophising and sociopathic killing sprees in GTA IV. Here, many of Michael’s missions circle about his relations along with his earlier, Franklin is usually on call for vehicular madness, and maximum murderous rampages are give to Trevor. Each has a particular ability suited to help his abilities – Franklin could to help slow down time while driving, for example – which presents them a unique touch. Narratively, it’s effective – even off-mission I found myself participating in quality, work like a mid-life-crisis gentleman with rage issues like Michael, a thrill-seeker as Franklin, along with a maniac as Trevor. The first thing I did when Franklin finally made the right dollars was buy him the awesome car, because I experience like that’s exactly what he’d want.

Trevor feels a like a bit of a get-out-of-jail-free cards for Rockstar, presenting the opening for all the preposterous tricks and brutal behaviour that normally could not fit into with GTA V’s narrative ambitions. I found the violent insanity a miniature overblown and boring at first. Because get-out clauses go, although, it’s pretty actual, and Trevor’s over-the-top missions are most of GTA V’s action-packed highlights. The a successful way of answering a setback that’s commonplace in open-world games: the anxiety between the story the authors are trying to direct, with the history you make yourself inside its approach and its world. GTA V accommodates both, masterfully, allowing not to challenge the other.

The concrete action of control between them too offers a window into their personal goes with patterns, weeding out their personalities in a way that feels organic and original. Accept a integrity then the camera zooms out over the San Andreas map, closing fund now by wherever they eventually be. Michael might be at home watching TV when you plunge here next to him, before speeding next to the motorway blasting ‘80s attacks, or using a cigarette in the golf club; Franklin can become moving away from a strip club, eating a case of snacks at home, or arguing with his ex-girlfriend; there’s an excellent chance that Trevor could be gone out half naked on the beach encircled by over bodies or, one memorable occasion, down in a stolen police helicopter.

It could be virtually everything, as there is a bewildering assortment of affairs to do from the different San Andreas – tennis, yoga, hiking, run on beach and also by land, flying planes, golfing, cycling, diving, hunting, and more. The objective remain a great intelligent leader to both San Andreas’ locations and activities, touring people across the road and increasing your taste for free exploration of it all. The way that we’re presented near San Andreas never feels artificial – the chart is finally open on the beginning, for example – which says to the sense that the a real place, somewhere you can get to know. If GTA IV’s Liberty City feels like a living city, San Andreas feels like a living world. I appreciate people walking the dogs together the beach in the country since I jet-skied past, arguing for the street beyond a movie theater with Los Santos, and camped – with covering and all – immediately at Support Chiliad, before pushing up next lasting a hike in the morning. It’s astounding.

The ambience changes dramatically counting at where you are, very. Trevor’s dusty trailer out during nowhere in Blaine County feels like a new planet from downtown Los Santos or Vespucci Beach. That wasn’t until once I hurried a flat from the urban and in the hill I lived cycling around a few hours or that the full scale of it became evident. That drives the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 further than they have any suited near, and it seems incredible. The biggest bounce with class as Grand Theft Auto IV is the person animation, but the world is also much more expansive, described, and populous. The price we buy of which lives occasional framerate dips and grain pop-in, i found became more prominent the longer I played, yet certainly not significantly taken away by my personal experience. For this kind of a huge and flexible world it is also remarkably bug-free – I experienced just three small difficulties in the 35 times I spent on our head playthrough, none which caused everyone to help break down a quest.

San Andreas’s extraordinary logic of site is heightened by the fact that much of it isn’t on the drawing. There’s so much going on that it’s simple learn things organically, rather than spend your life following a mission marker. I when grab a traveling jet from the airport for the hell of it, then parachuted on the top of the tallest form in Los Santos. (I then accidentally jumped off the highest then decrease near my own death, forgetting that I’d already worked with the parachute, however I generally leave to hurt off.) Out driving in the country, I stretched across a man to a mobile phone post with womens’ underwear. I tracked down criminals who randomly swipe bags on the road, and happened across gunbattles between police and other miscreants, occasions to add a sense that it world isn’t completely uneventful if I wasn’t here to help disrupt normalcy. I purchased an expensive mountain bicycle with cycled around in the hills, appreciating the look on. These little moments can be get on your cell phone camera – which, brilliantly, can also take selfies. I have many bites of Trevor make their unhinged description of an look dressed in their underpants over a pile.

The legend which GTA V tells through the quest takes full benefit of all this diversity beyond need and score (nevertheless the motivation and run is still very enjoyable). It’s cause a lot of good moments. It allowed us racing Michael’s lazy blob of a daughter across Vespucci Beach in one of many misguided efforts in father-son bonding, operating a winter scope to look for somebody from a helicopter before chasing them across the city on the ground, torching a meth lab, towing cars for Franklin’s crack-addict cousin to help stop him from shed his task, getting into a feature from the sea in the wetsuit and flippers, piloting a sea, posing as a structure worker, doing yoga, escaping on plane skis, failing many occasion to arrive a flat burdened with drugs at a hangar elsewhere in the sweet… this goes about with by. The days of a similar cycle of “transport here, learn that guy, throw this person” are after us. Also missions that might otherwise be formulaic are filled with novelty with excitement by the possibility to play them since several different perspectives – in a shootout, Trevor can occur exciting RPGs from a rooftop when Michael and Franklin line the enemy on the ground.

It is the heists – multi-stage, huge-scale affairs that function as the story’s climactic peaks – that will event Grand Theft Auto V on their many serious and completed. Usually there’s a choice between a more involved, stealthier option that will (hopefully) attract less temperature, along with a great all-out option that will be less tense although more explosively chaotic – and what crew to take along with you on the job. All of GTA V’s missions are replayable at any time, letting you relive favourite seconds before try off another line. They have optional objectives in the vein of Assassin’s Creed’s synchronisation challenges, but crucially, these are invisible the first time you participate in a mission, so they don’t distract people by fix things your way.

Sometimes your own way won’t are the means that this designers require you to do something, and while GTA 5 is usually great in bending near you when that happens, there were a couple of instances exactly where it wasn’t make for my private type of chaos. Overtake a car you’re not supposed to overtake and it will burn in limit of visitors as if in special. Despite the establishment of fresh stealth mechanics, enemies will miraculously go with people when the mission dictates that they must. Kill someone before you’re supposed to, and that’s sometimes Mission Failed. Most likely the scripting is adequate to be invisible, yet once it’s not, you really perceive it – if only because usually the so smooth.

As always, some of the wittiest record shows standing on the in-game radio which acts behind all of the exploration and chaos. “There’s nothing new profitable, more masculine, new American than a big pile of money,” blasts one of the in-game ads. “We learn periods are challenging, however they don’t have to be tough for you. Still received several liquidity in your home? Are you nuts?” The audio selection is also typically excellent, leading to most of those serendipitous times where you’re take down with the right music comes by. During a heist, when the radio isn’t blaring the background, a vibrant soundtrack seriously builds tension.

The satire is helped with integration of advanced life to the game world. Every character circles around the smartphone – it’s used to trade stocks, call up friends to meet way up and send emails. There’s a great Facebook spoof, Life Invader, on the in-game Interne, with the slogan “Where Your Individual Information Becomes A Marketplace Report (That You can Offer)”. You’ll hear ads for preposterous parodic TV shows that you can actually guard next to your own TELEVISION at home, optionally whilst having a toke. It might not be realistic, but it definitely feels authentic.

It is value mentioning that when that occurs to sex, drugs, with violence, GTA V pushes boundaries much further than ever before or. If the morality controls were concerned with Hot Chocolate, there’s a lot here that will provoke moral hysteria. It’s deliciously subversive, and tightly language in cheek... but one time or double, it drives the borders of style, too. There’s one particular world, a torture place in which you have no choice yet to actively participate, i learned so troubling that we got trouble playing this; yet couched with apparent criticism on the US government’s way out to pain post 9/11, it is a shocking moment that will attract justified controversy. This gives to mind Name of Job: Modern Warfare 2’s No Russian mission, except worse, and with no option to bypass over that. Some other stuff, like the ever-present prostitution and wide strip-club minigames, feels like it is there because this could be rather than because it say anything to say.

There is nothing in San Andreas, while, that doesn’t serve Rockstar’s intent with establishing a exaggerated projection of The usa that’s saturated with crime, violence and sleaze. There are no clear person with GTA V. Everyone you experience is a sociopath, narcissist, criminal, lunatic, sadist, cheat, liar, layabout, or several combination of those. A gentleman whom pays good income to eliminate Los Santos’ worst examples of corporate greed is participating in the stock market near the help whilst he does it. In a world like this, it’s not testing for you to ensure why violence is so usually the first option. All the pieces fit.

Verdict

GTA 5 is not only a preposterously enjoyable video game, but also the sharp and sharp-tongued satire of modern America. This represents a sophistication of the lot that GTA IV transported on the counter several years ago. The technically more accomplished in every conceivable way, although it is also tremendously serious with its just. No extra planet into video games comes near that now magnitude or opportunity, then there is sharp intelligence behind its wisdom of humour and surprise for mayhem. This identifies a compelling, unstable, and provocative story without ever allowing that be in the way of your personal self-directed adventures in San Andreas. It is one of the very best movie games ever get. Notice: That assessment exclusively defends the single-player part of GTA V , since it launched without any multiplayer mode.

[gamingtipsandtrickshacks]

Forever playing in Exile • Eurogamer.net

Once when I was small I went to the shops to buy an explosive - a tiny microdet designed for stage pyrotechnics. I've been fortunate that I've never really had blood on my hands when playing with fire, but that day I did get a lot of raspberry jam on them.

A school friend held a balloon open while I crammed in as much jam as possible before knotting it sealed. Then we pierced a small hole in a puppet's head and inserted the microdet followed by the balloon of clotted blood-like substance. I hooked the wires up to a 9-volt battery behind the camcorder, which was masking-taped to a makeshift dolly (a pram on rails). In exquisite anticipation I barked "Action!" But things didn't quite go to plan.

At that age, life only made sense when you were having fun. The freedom to play was why blood pumped through your veins. It was necessary to experiment and push boundaries, to test and meddle with the laws of physics. Teasing spiders, climbing trees, disturbing bee's nests, throwing snowballs at passing cars and building follies to set fire to. There was always a thrill to be had on the edge of mischief. That was instinctive, that... was boyhood.

But a back garden wasn't the only playground on offer in the mid to late 80s. Computer games were fast becoming portals into entire worlds with their own laws and abstracted physics. I was 11 years old and I was attempting to dock a rotating space station. Not Starbuck or Skywalker... me! I could barrel-roll a Spitfire, pilot fragile pods through planetary caves or hack into and fly remote-controlled robots. Exploring those digital playgrounds was my generation's undiscovered country and the thrills were intoxicating. Then at some point in those life-shaping years I found myself spellbound by an unusual game titled Exile, for the BBC Micro. And to this day part of me still hasn't been able to leave.

In 1988 games had to run in only 32k of memory. My phone now has 60,000 times that amount. And yet... there I was 30 years ago exploring a vast underground world simulating realistic physics with its own ecosystem, all running inside 32k of RAM. The wildlife and machines all had their own abilities and behaviours and even emitted digitised speech if you had the sideways RAM. This was absolute heaven to me, but it wasn't until I started making my own games that I came to fully appreciate how unlikely it was that all this ever came together in the first place.

Somehow the developers created a responsive 2D scrolling platformer with pixel-perfect collision, that worked in an engine where objects had properties and a mass effected by gravity, inertia, shock-waves and the elements earth, wind, fire and water. These days it's hard to appreciate now that physics engines are commonplace, but this was relatively new back then and Exile went all in to unprecedented lengths.

This was a new blend of platform game with true physical principles giving birth to a peculiar quality that sparked the imagination like nothing before - physical emergent narrative. It offered the player the ability to experiment and discover things outside the remit of whatever challenges the developer laid out for them. This alchemy for real tangible depth to interactive worlds can still prove painfully elusive for developers today. How can one offer the flexibility to experiment while maintaining a balanced ecosystem in which delicate puzzles have been woven? Maybe this is why it took so long for games like Minecraft and Disney Infinity to happen.

But even these days, how often do players find themselves trying to disarm a primed grenade that has escaped their grasp in a circular wind tunnel? How do you keep a flask from spilling water as you're caked by jetpack-clogging mushrooms thrown by cheeky imps? What do you do with a killer bee you've caught from its nest but stings while you flip through your inventory? What happens if you hold a frightened pink ball of fluff under red drops of acid jam? These just weren't the questions gamers were used to pondering. Equally important, it turned out nor were they questions a developer needed to contrive.

Exile.

The intelligence required for path-finding and strategy alone must have been a challenge in itself, but the indignance of that Darlek-esque sentinel as I landed politely on its head, the audacity of the villain Triax teleporting in and out to shoot me in the back, that endearing desperation whenever Fluffy clung to me for dear life... Was any of that real or did I imagine it? Advanced AI has often proved a poor investment in games. It can be so very clever but the bottom line is: if it's not noticed, it's completely wasted. The AI in Exile probably doesn't compare to what exists in today's games, but again... this isn't what's important. The secret is frequently staring right at us, through the eyes of a great movie star or even a wooden actor who knows when to exploit that unfortunate quality. Explicit emotional performances or Shakespearean monologues aren't necessary to immerse the audience in the mind of the character. Many actors have made the point that the power of ambiguity can be far more powerful. If there's drama in the situation, the audience can do all that leg work for the actor, who only has to project the illusion of thought. Artificial intelligence in entertainment is as much about anthropomorphism as it is about explicit communication or action. If it's done well it can be concocted in the eye of the beholder, emerging from situation, emerging from conflict, as an emergent... narrative.

Exile demonstrated a strong sense for crafting these natural unpredictable behaviour patterns, giving the illusion of a deeper intelligence and appearing to show changes in mood or temperament. Even if that sometimes just meant knowing when to hold still for a few seconds and do absolutely nothing, like when you give a spider a little poke to watch it play dead. How can something so motionless be so captivating? The AI was superb, but so was this pseudo AI.

For many reasons Exile was the game that made the biggest impression on me, and it wasn't long before I hooked up with school friend Chris Mullender to make our own game for the Amiga 500. What started out as a simple platformer inspired by Giana Sisters soon ballooned into our own sprawling world of bizarre creatures that followed their own laws and physical abilities. We realised then that we had both been heavily inspired by the land of Exile, even down to logistics such as memory management. It was literally impossible to store a map of that size into 32k. Chris' research uncovered how the map was constructed from selected procedural tile sets. This blew my mind, it felt like the big bang in reverse. Also, I remembered seeing the game played on an even less powerful machine, an Acorn Electron and noticed a large portion of the screen filled with corrupt graphics. It turned out this was no bug, but a technique that harnessed the screen buffer to store data. Genius! So we stored our game's hidden cave map data in the island's negative space - the sky. This instantly halved the size of our map data.

We learnt a lot regarding how so much could be put into so little space. It felt only natural to write a fan letter to the developers of Exile, and I was thrilled to receive a handwritten reply from Peter Irvin. However, it was in that letter I learned the tragic news of the death of his co-developer Jeremy Smith (who had previously created the much loved gravity game Thrust). Also sad was the speculation of what magic such a partnership would have gone on to create next.

In a strange mirroring of fate, a sequence of events followed that saw us releasing our game Odyssey under the same publisher as the Amiga version of Exile. My partner was hired to code for Peter's following projects and by the end of the next decade I had lost Chris, my co-creator and closest friend to a sudden illness. I was most touched when Peter reached out to console me, having been through the very same thing with Jeremy.

Reece Millidge and Chris Mullender.

When I look back on the development of Odyssey, before it entered that tough phase to bring it to completion, I remember the joyful fleshing out on whim and self indulgence. We drew on what excited us and made us laugh. I ate lots of biscuits and Chris drank lots of tea. We were making it because we enjoyed the process. Who knew that making a game could be as much fun as playing one?

When the red light blinked on the camcorder, I dollied towards the puppet and triggered the microdet. But the jam didn't explode. There was a loud pop and sparks flew from its head but the balloon was so tightly packed that it launched intact, remaining lodged and bulging out of its forehead. We were mucking about... and we mucked it up, but it was hilarious fun. Much like the time we filmed a firework backfiring a cardboard bazooka, singeing the armpit of my brother's favourite teddy bear. Or when a friend painted his face silver and climbed into his mum's washing machine, snapping the door off its hinges. We weren't playing to win, we were playing to play.

Now I find myself in the role of a responsible parent, supplying the back garden and fencing in the boundaries for my own kids to push. But like a lot of games developers still under the spell, I'm really just trying to recreate the playgrounds of my own childhood. If I'm still mucking around at middle age where things make only less sense, then it looks like I'll remain forever in exile, playing happily with grenades, pink balls of fluff and raspberry preserves.

[thirstypanda]

NOTE: I’ll be doing up a small blog for each brewery we visited so that you don’t fall asleep reading an unnecessarily long diatribe. 

With a population of 81,000, Bellingham, WA (BLI) is an island of a city on the I-5. By this I mean it’s surrounded by farmland, sprawling green hills, the Pacific Ocean, and the Cascade Mountain range, so it’s pretty much all on its own.

Although not really connected like other urban style cities (you kind of have to live here to understand), it’s super close to roughly 3 million Canadians – many of whom love good craft beer but aren’t particularly fond of border lineups or a 70 cent dollar.

Currently boasting 11 breweries, with a 12th opening shortly, Bellingham offers 10 times the number of breweries per capita than my home town of Abbotsford, BC (which explains the popularity of Field House Brewing), AND more per capita than Portland, Seattle and Vancouver.

Weekend Getaway

Seeming like an eternity since Sandra and I had been on a weekend getaway, we decided to escape somewhere for a couple of days. And, quite frankly, it really didn’t matter where.

Being both super close and super affordable, Bellingham seemed like a good choice. We thought we would do some shopping, wander around the old downtown area, enjoy the farmer’s market, and check-in to a brewpub or two (or three, or four).

After some quick research I was utterly shocked to find that there were 11 breweries in BLI alone. I was aware of a couple of them… But 11?

That was a game changer. Looks like the handful of visits was going to turn into a full blown holiday tap tour!!!

Gathering up a list of places of interest and breweries , I pinned them on a Google map, and a rough agenda was planned out.

Here We Go

We started the day off at the Farmer’s Market in the heart of downtown Bellingham. This turned into a real find, as Atwood Ales had a small stand showing off some of their crazy brews featuring locally sourced ingredients. Spent a good amount of time talking to them, savouring the samples they brought, and picked up a Triticale Brett Saison that will be going into the cellar for some conditioning. Look forward to checking out one of their brewery tours in the not to distant future.

To make this even more fun, we came across a local “Tap Trail Passport” (see below) at the “tourist desk” . With a map provided, it lists a number of supporting breweries, cideries, and tap houses where you get a unique stamp when you visit and purchase a pint. Collect enough stamps and you get a reward to acknowledge your dedication to the cause. The rewards are far from luxurious, but they are a fun incentive just the same.

Jumping back into the Prius, we headed a couple miles south down the I-5 to the Fairhaven district – a quaint area with some hip shops, restaurants, and a bit of culture. After a lazy wander around, we located Stone’s Throw Brewing, which could be easily mistaken for someone’s home, and stepped in for our first pint of the journey (11:30am – not bad). It was the perfect beginning to a perfect weekend, I enjoyed a nicely brewed pilsner lager, Sandra had a ginger ale they brew themselves, and we planned out the rest of our day.

Spending some more time in the shops, we ended up a the Filling Station restaurant for another pint ( a very nice Ten Pin Brewing Gutter Ball Hazy Pale Ale) and some lunch. This was a real jewel of a find (although not too hard to find), as the service was outstanding, the food was very good, super cool decor, and they ONLY SERVE regional craft beer.

Back to the Big City

Trekking back into Downtown Bellingham, we bounced around on foot to Gruff Brewing, Boundary Bay Brewery and Bistro, Chuckanut Brewery and Kitchen, Aslan Brewing, Structures Brewing, and finishing off the day at Wander Brewing.

Turns out the Downtown Bellingham area is less than stellar for shopping. Sadly, even on a Saturday afternoon, more often than not the stores were closed or empty.

After a grueling, and thirst quenching day, we grabbed some relatively average Chinese takeout and headed back to the hotel. With luck, Armageddon, one of the all time great end-of-the-world apocalypse movies was just starting. The perfect movie to fall asleep to.

Day 2

With leftovers on the breakfast menu (who doesn’t love leftover Chinese food?), we checked out, relaxed at a Woods Coffee across the way, and mapped out our day.

Having a current affinity for sours, we ended up going to BevMo to scour the Belgian saison selection. Although I was hoping to find an Orval circa 2018 or 2016 (already have a 2017), a Saison Dupont Farmhouse Ale, circa 2016, more than fit the bill. If you’ve never been to the BevMo in Bellingham, and you like craft beer, this is a must.  They have a very good selection of domestic craft beer, and imported goodies.

Following a pilgrimage to the new Costco, we headed down Meridian Street to Menace Brewing for the first beer of the day. Ben, the fellow behind the counter, was super obliging, letting me taste every single beer they had on tap plus one from a fermentor that they were going to be bottling shortly (an oh so nice Chile Bravo Lager).

Super tasty food and some nice beers at Aslan Brewing.

The next stop took us a few blocks down the road to Melvin Brewing for a flight and some garlic fries. Followed by a tasty lunch and pint at Aslan, a relaxing beverage at Kulshan, Illiminati for a pint of pilsner, and down the 542 to North Fork Brewing for a pizza and a closing flight before heading home.

In Closing

There were a few things that the Mrs. and I got out of our weekend getaway. The first thing we noticed was how family and dog friendly many of the places were. Waiting in line at Gruff I was greeted by a wagging tale, while the toddlers seemed just as at home at Wander Brewing as they would at a daycare. This was a definitely a reflection of the clientele and the relaxed the settings.

Second, we were amazed at how spread out Bellingham is. With only 81,000 people, there was definitely more space than human beings. This was quite evident during our wanderings of the barren Downtown district.

Finally, we were pleasantly surprised by the craft beer scene and everything it had to offer. The community seems to have embraced it, supporting everything from street parties, to a weekend brew tour bus that will escort you around to the various brewery areas for a mere $10 / person for the whole day. The taprooms and stores (even Costco) are also big supporters of the local breweries, putting their products front and centre.

There is a very good chance we’ll be making our way back to the BLI for another weekend, to enjoy the exceptional craft beer scene and maybe some of the cultural activities in the area.

Well that’s it for now, gonna go quench that panda sized thirst… Cheers!

Bellingham Tap Trail: A hophead’s paradise NOTE: I'll be doing up a small blog for each brewery we visited so that you don't fall asleep reading an unnecessarily long diatribe. 

[doriscahill]

On my Birthday

Yesterday was my birthday, I was greeted with a yellow balloon, chocolate hazelnut  cake and torch candle. Literally, a jumbo sparkler. Dangerous and disallowed in much of American, what a joy. A ten second pyrotechnic show just for me..

Birthday’s are a big deal in Georgia, even more so than America, you can not escape it. Overt glitz, broad smiles and excessive hugs. Over 200 well wishes on face-book and flooded inboxes; a wave of love from one end of the world to the other.  

My colleagues/friends did something for me over the top, something making this 57th birthday, a favorite. 

This is for real.

I thought I had requested “please do not go out of your way”  and “its not a day of my best memories”. 

No to Georgians means yes unless it is three no’s. It’s been a month of friends asking, “what are you plans? We must celebrate!!” Those who work side by side with me for years would know I mostly skip work on my birthday, seeking a peaceful day.  

When young this day meant a party and gifts we could not have nor always afford. If we had cake it was often shared with my cousins  also, celebrating their birthday. There were so many of us.  The shared cake would have a sculpted rose on top, pinkish-red made of  buttercream icing; yet no guarantee that single rose  would be yours to eat.   It would be days of anticipation and then disappointment, few parties;  no gifts. A did treasure a birthstone ring gifted to me by mom, unfortunately it was stolen  when my house was robbed a few years ago. I  held in my drawer for 40 years. 

Not to be a downer, but there were 3 birthdays in 57 years that brought me special feeling. My 12th, 21st and 50th. 

On my 12th birthday, I begged my dad daily, for at least 6 months,  to buy me a 10 speed bike on my birthday. A bike he could ill afford making $4-$6 dollars an hour. I became privy to this info when working a summer job at the factory. I  peaked at his pay records when the office was at lunch.  On my special day we went to the bike store to pick one out, choosing a deep maroon. He negotiated so hard, it was embarrassing, he refused to pay the sales tax and insisted on a good warranty, about $110, a weeks pay.  

That maroon bike changed me, I felt free; wind in my long ponied brown hair; peddling, switching gears uphill, then gliding hands-free downhill,  water bottle and basket attached. Visiting places: CandleWood Lake, Nanny’s, St Gregory’s School/Church, and Jimmies market.  I raced it with friends skinning my knees and participated in 26 mile charity ride with a good girl friend passing the old Fair Grounds.

One day I left my bike on the grass in our front  yard. I was late for  dinner again and had not placed it back in the garage. The next time I looked for it, it was gone, stolen. It took me four years to save money to buy my own bike. I was severely scolded.

I still love to bike and have  proudly keep my 1978-9 Peugeot.  Newport, RI.

On my 21st birthday I was taken to the Pocono Mountains. I remember this birthday well. I was gifted the most dainty earrings; gold hearts with the smallest pearl. I was to join another  family and remember sharing the news with my parents, who were surprisingly pleased. My view of my parents changed  post college; their predilections no longer bemuse.  Unallowable behavior became encouraged.   

This family was different than mine; children and parents ate together most meals, played charades and board games for hours. A consolidated unit that operated in unison.  We hiked to the forest and took pictures at the falls. Crossing a foot bridge,me,  dreadfully fearing heights, my hand was tightly held by my host. We visited the local museum and bowled. Always in a group of many, valuing time together, creating memories.  Time was made to teach me how to  juggle 3 balls. I remember feeling free, walking in nature, welcomed.  On my special day  my once small frame adorn a beloved dress: just above the knee, light fabric that bounced, and pale yellow with black polka-dots accented with a black patent leather belt.  I do not recall a birthday cake, only the smiles of those few day. 

The earring, the mate it lost. 

Then birthday’s became a time for my children and their birthdays. A promise with my husband agreeing to not to fuss with my birthday, but give our girls birthdays and make new memories for. To not gift me on my day, but surprise me on other days with kindness.  My happiest gift to him on his birthday was the surprise birth of my youngest daughter who arrived a week early. He, missing his first day of work for his new job, me sleeping through a night of labor. Only to wake and be taken to the hospital.  Most nights I sleep like a rock. 

Each birthday for my girls starting from the first year I was out of control; friends, clowns, cakes, barbecues, balloons, pool, painting and gym; all themed parties. My funniest party for our eldest daughter was at age 13. We  decorated the basement family room with black lights and streamers for a night dance at the house. She asked me to hold the spin the bottle pillow dice.  Nothing changes, except she asked. My funniest memory of my youngest daughter is the year we had the fake birthday party, her birthday falls at summers end and the prior year attendance was low, families tend to take vacation,  so we moved her party up to June :-) and opened the pool. Her idea, no one  would know. 

I lost my father in my 50th year. IA month after passing, my husband Andy asked to take me into Boston for dinner with friends; a date. We had a gift certificate for Capital Grill. $200 and would make a night of it. I grimace but agree; Capital Grill is a premier steak house in the BackBay neighborhood of Boston. I spent  many years working on Newbury, Bolyston Street and Commonwealth Ave. The gift certificate was from our lawyer who failed to pay our es-crowed real estate taxes from  our house closing. Andrew asked me not to check  closing documents because I catch too many errors and tend to be stubborn for correction. We still laugh over this. 

Andy knew it would make me happy surrounding me with memories. We drive in. He hates driving into Boston and specifically parking, anyone would. We park the car nearby,  at a meter near my old office (on Newbury St and adjacent to the Mass Pike). Hoping the car would not be vandalized or towed, we take turns filling it during our meal. Now, one can pay parking remotely with an App. While working, my car was stolen twice plus 6 break-ins and two tows, the parking tickets were, lets say alot.  Today, most young workers take the commuter rail; it now extends to my surburb. The new station opened the day after I stopped commuting, sigh. 

Meeting our close friends, we ordered on the right side of the menu, and the chat was pleasant, but strain of dad’s death overwhelmed me. I ponder why am I out on my birthday. At the meals end, a chocolate birthday cake with candles is placed on the table, and all sang the birthday song, I could not stop crying.  I felt loved. I got to eat the rose.  We return to the car; thankfully intact. 

Back to Georgia.  Last year I had milk  poisoning so we can skip past that birthday (click and read  No Milk for You!) 

At my site, I have a new co-worker and they  mention an ancient monastery. Located in the Village of Uraveli; it dates 1100 A.D. or so and is under renovation. He exclaims “It is majestic.” Continues, thinking “and it is great potential for tourism as the road leading to there has a mineral spring. Healing waters.” He and  my other co-worker families come from this village. And he purchased land near the spring, hoping to develop it. 

Having ate my cake with the crazy candle.  He was again talking about the property and the monastery. He had not seen it, since a young boy. I blurt “let’s go there, today!, that would be the best gift” Some intense discussion in Georgian commenced. Mostly answering the questions, when and should we. Its decide to leave at 4 pm.  It would be  us, three , our driver and my guest; a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer. I am pumped, an unplanned road trip.  

Timeliness is rare in Georgia, around 4;30 pm we set out; five packed in a small SUV, estimated travel 45 minutes; one way. We take the main round south and turn at the Potato World Sign, the road begins to wind as we ascend. We pass another Potato World Sign in the Village Mushki, this has a famous craft woman and her school and museum. We discuss how old she is. We gaze out at the potato fields. 

We enter Uraveli Village and each colleague  points out there grandparents home on the adjacent hillsides.  We crane from our windows, to see  their homes, as they point and describe where to look. The Uraveli river flows along the road to the monastery. We follow it. My coworker says it will become cool soon and darker.  The pavement road ends abruptly and turns to dirt; uneven, potholed, riddle with river rock and deep puddles; the ride becomes increasingly bumpy. You can see the topography change in the aerial google map view and the “red” pin where we are heading. Note the dropped pin is after the fact. 

Rough, the road continues to narrow and loose gravel turns to larger river rock. We are all giggling; only feet away from water’s edge. My co-workers point out river side picnic spots, soviet posts and the City water supply facility. We stop roadside; stretch and drink the from the mineral water fountain, take pictures of the undeveloped land lot, noting is boundaries and abandoned horse stable.  We continue on.  Road sections are damage from spring floods; we swerve to avoid muddied pools. We come to a fork in the road and more giggling;  there is ongoing debate ( in Georgian): how much further and which way and the monastery is not in site yet. Georgian banter continues; “where, when, when?, soon? how far?, close?” 

Unsure, we choose to go left.  The forest canopy now filters the light. We hear thunder, then see lightening strike the mountain. Again we all ask “how many kilometers?”. The ferns and wetland flowers are in bloom, we ascend up the increasingly rocky worn road. We come to a  river crossing; so far all crossings were on aged bridges, but not this crossing; only river.   Giggles turn to cackles, we cross a narrow section; reinforced with poured cement on rocks and  fast moving water. I assume the  wood plank, leaned on nearby rocks is for those on foot :-).

Again, our happy group discusses how much further is our ascent. Latest discussion, we had agreed on 2 kilometers. It seemed closer to 10. My colleague comforts the group stating “it always seems longer going”  and in the same breath “I was last hear as a boy”. We arrive, but the rain comes. All are welcomed  by the head priest and his very large German Shepard. There are workers busy building. We stay only a short time, walking the complex taking pictures. Women need to cover their heads to enter the monastery. Darn we forgot our veils and could not go in to see the ornate paintings. 

I take a short walk. Alone, on top this  mountain, next to this most ancient building of prayer,  Folding my hands, looking towards the sky and in private I thank G-d for this life and one more birthday. 

We descend and it does seem shorter, but certainly as narrow and rocky. I video taped the river crossing (please click). 

 Here are a few more pictures. The hand holding the clover is a fellow Peace Corps volunteer. 

Thanks for listening and following this Blog. Doe

[gamingtipsandtrickshacks]

Forever playing in Exile • Eurogamer.net

Once when I was small I went to the shops to buy an explosive - a tiny microdet designed for stage pyrotechnics. I've been fortunate that I've never really had blood on my hands when playing with fire, but that day I did get a lot of raspberry jam on them.

A school friend held a balloon open while I crammed in as much jam as possible before knotting it sealed. Then we pierced a small hole in a puppet's head and inserted the microdet followed by the balloon of clotted blood-like substance. I hooked the wires up to a 9-volt battery behind the camcorder, which was masking-taped to a makeshift dolly (a pram on rails). In exquisite anticipation I barked "Action!" But things didn't quite go to plan.

At that age, life only made sense when you were having fun. The freedom to play was why blood pumped through your veins. It was necessary to experiment and push boundaries, to test and meddle with the laws of physics. Teasing spiders, climbing trees, disturbing bee's nests, throwing snowballs at passing cars and building follies to set fire to. There was always a thrill to be had on the edge of mischief. That was instinctive, that... was boyhood.

But a back garden wasn't the only playground on offer in the mid to late 80s. Computer games were fast becoming portals into entire worlds with their own laws and abstracted physics. I was 11 years old and I was attempting to dock a rotating space station. Not Starbuck or Skywalker... me! I could barrel-roll a Spitfire, pilot fragile pods through planetary caves or hack into and fly remote-controlled robots. Exploring those digital playgrounds was my generation's undiscovered country and the thrills were intoxicating. Then at some point in those life-shaping years I found myself spellbound by an unusual game titled Exile, for the BBC Micro. And to this day part of me still hasn't been able to leave.

In 1988 games had to run in only 32k of memory. My phone now has 60,000 times that amount. And yet... there I was 30 years ago exploring a vast underground world simulating realistic physics with its own ecosystem, all running inside 32k of RAM. The wildlife and machines all had their own abilities and behaviours and even emitted digitised speech if you had the sideways RAM. This was absolute heaven to me, but it wasn't until I started making my own games that I came to fully appreciate how unlikely it was that all this ever came together in the first place.

Somehow the developers created a responsive 2D scrolling platformer with pixel-perfect collision, that worked in an engine where objects had properties and a mass effected by gravity, inertia, shock-waves and the elements earth, wind, fire and water. These days it's hard to appreciate now that physics engines are commonplace, but this was relatively new back then and Exile went all in to unprecedented lengths.

This was a new blend of platform game with true physical principles giving birth to a peculiar quality that sparked the imagination like nothing before - physical emergent narrative. It offered the player the ability to experiment and discover things outside the remit of whatever challenges the developer laid out for them. This alchemy for real tangible depth to interactive worlds can still prove painfully elusive for developers today. How can one offer the flexibility to experiment while maintaining a balanced ecosystem in which delicate puzzles have been woven? Maybe this is why it took so long for games like Minecraft and Disney Infinity to happen.

But even these days, how often do players find themselves trying to disarm a primed grenade that has escaped their grasp in a circular wind tunnel? How do you keep a flask from spilling water as you're caked by jetpack-clogging mushrooms thrown by cheeky imps? What do you do with a killer bee you've caught from its nest but stings while you flip through your inventory? What happens if you hold a frightened pink ball of fluff under red drops of acid jam? These just weren't the questions gamers were used to pondering. Equally important, it turned out nor were they questions a developer needed to contrive.

Exile.

The intelligence required for path-finding and strategy alone must have been a challenge in itself, but the indignance of that Darlek-esque sentinel as I landed politely on its head, the audacity of the villain Triax teleporting in and out to shoot me in the back, that endearing desperation whenever Fluffy clung to me for dear life... Was any of that real or did I imagine it? Advanced AI has often proved a poor investment in games. It can be so very clever but the bottom line is: if it's not noticed, it's completely wasted. The AI in Exile probably doesn't compare to what exists in today's games, but again... this isn't what's important. The secret is frequently staring right at us, through the eyes of a great movie star or even a wooden actor who knows when to exploit that unfortunate quality. Explicit emotional performances or Shakespearean monologues aren't necessary to immerse the audience in the mind of the character. Many actors have made the point that the power of ambiguity can be far more powerful. If there's drama in the situation, the audience can do all that leg work for the actor, who only has to project the illusion of thought. Artificial intelligence in entertainment is as much about anthropomorphism as it is about explicit communication or action. If it's done well it can be concocted in the eye of the beholder, emerging from situation, emerging from conflict, as an emergent... narrative.

Exile demonstrated a strong sense for crafting these natural unpredictable behaviour patterns, giving the illusion of a deeper intelligence and appearing to show changes in mood or temperament. Even if that sometimes just meant knowing when to hold still for a few seconds and do absolutely nothing, like when you give a spider a little poke to watch it play dead. How can something so motionless be so captivating? The AI was superb, but so was this pseudo AI.

For many reasons Exile was the game that made the biggest impression on me, and it wasn't long before I hooked up with school friend Chris Mullender to make our own game for the Amiga 500. What started out as a simple platformer inspired by Giana Sisters soon ballooned into our own sprawling world of bizarre creatures that followed their own laws and physical abilities. We realised then that we had both been heavily inspired by the land of Exile, even down to logistics such as memory management. It was literally impossible to store a map of that size into 32k. Chris' research uncovered how the map was constructed from selected procedural tile sets. This blew my mind, it felt like the big bang in reverse. Also, I remembered seeing the game played on an even less powerful machine, an Acorn Electron and noticed a large portion of the screen filled with corrupt graphics. It turned out this was no bug, but a technique that harnessed the screen buffer to store data. Genius! So we stored our game's hidden cave map data in the island's negative space - the sky. This instantly halved the size of our map data.

We learnt a lot regarding how so much could be put into so little space. It felt only natural to write a fan letter to the developers of Exile, and I was thrilled to receive a handwritten reply from Peter Irvin. However, it was in that letter I learned the tragic news of the death of his co-developer Jeremy Smith (who had previously created the much loved gravity game Thrust). Also sad was the speculation of what magic such a partnership would have gone on to create next.

In a strange mirroring of fate, a sequence of events followed that saw us releasing our game Odyssey under the same publisher as the Amiga version of Exile. My partner was hired to code for Peter's following projects and by the end of the next decade I had lost Chris, my co-creator and closest friend to a sudden illness. I was most touched when Peter reached out to console me, having been through the very same thing with Jeremy.

Reece Millidge and Chris Mullender.

When I look back on the development of Odyssey, before it entered that tough phase to bring it to completion, I remember the joyful fleshing out on whim and self indulgence. We drew on what excited us and made us laugh. I ate lots of biscuits and Chris drank lots of tea. We were making it because we enjoyed the process. Who knew that making a game could be as much fun as playing one?

When the red light blinked on the camcorder, I dollied towards the puppet and triggered the microdet. But the jam didn't explode. There was a loud pop and sparks flew from its head but the balloon was so tightly packed that it launched intact, remaining lodged and bulging out of its forehead. We were mucking about... and we mucked it up, but it was hilarious fun. Much like the time we filmed a firework backfiring a cardboard bazooka, singeing the armpit of my brother's favourite teddy bear. Or when a friend painted his face silver and climbed into his mum's washing machine, snapping the door off its hinges. We weren't playing to win, we were playing to play.

Now I find myself in the role of a responsible parent, supplying the back garden and fencing in the boundaries for my own kids to push. But like a lot of games developers still under the spell, I'm really just trying to recreate the playgrounds of my own childhood. If I'm still mucking around at middle age where things make only less sense, then it looks like I'll remain forever in exile, playing happily with grenades, pink balls of fluff and raspberry preserves.

[gamingtipsandtrickshacks]

Forever playing in Exile • Eurogamer.net

Once when I was small I went to the shops to buy an explosive - a tiny microdet designed for stage pyrotechnics. I've been fortunate that I've never really had blood on my hands when playing with fire, but that day I did get a lot of raspberry jam on them.

A school friend held a balloon open while I crammed in as much jam as possible before knotting it sealed. Then we pierced a small hole in a puppet's head and inserted the microdet followed by the balloon of clotted blood-like substance. I hooked the wires up to a 9-volt battery behind the camcorder, which was masking-taped to a makeshift dolly (a pram on rails). In exquisite anticipation I barked "Action!" But things didn't quite go to plan.

At that age, life only made sense when you were having fun. The freedom to play was why blood pumped through your veins. It was necessary to experiment and push boundaries, to test and meddle with the laws of physics. Teasing spiders, climbing trees, disturbing bee's nests, throwing snowballs at passing cars and building follies to set fire to. There was always a thrill to be had on the edge of mischief. That was instinctive, that... was boyhood.

But a back garden wasn't the only playground on offer in the mid to late 80s. Computer games were fast becoming portals into entire worlds with their own laws and abstracted physics. I was 11 years old and I was attempting to dock a rotating space station. Not Starbuck or Skywalker... me! I could barrel-roll a Spitfire, pilot fragile pods through planetary caves or hack into and fly remote-controlled robots. Exploring those digital playgrounds was my generation's undiscovered country and the thrills were intoxicating. Then at some point in those life-shaping years I found myself spellbound by an unusual game titled Exile, for the BBC Micro. And to this day part of me still hasn't been able to leave.

In 1988 games had to run in only 32k of memory. My phone now has 60,000 times that amount. And yet... there I was 30 years ago exploring a vast underground world simulating realistic physics with its own ecosystem, all running inside 32k of RAM. The wildlife and machines all had their own abilities and behaviours and even emitted digitised speech if you had the sideways RAM. This was absolute heaven to me, but it wasn't until I started making my own games that I came to fully appreciate how unlikely it was that all this ever came together in the first place.

Somehow the developers created a responsive 2D scrolling platformer with pixel-perfect collision, that worked in an engine where objects had properties and a mass effected by gravity, inertia, shock-waves and the elements earth, wind, fire and water. These days it's hard to appreciate now that physics engines are commonplace, but this was relatively new back then and Exile went all in to unprecedented lengths.

This was a new blend of platform game with true physical principles giving birth to a peculiar quality that sparked the imagination like nothing before - physical emergent narrative. It offered the player the ability to experiment and discover things outside the remit of whatever challenges the developer laid out for them. This alchemy for real tangible depth to interactive worlds can still prove painfully elusive for developers today. How can one offer the flexibility to experiment while maintaining a balanced ecosystem in which delicate puzzles have been woven? Maybe this is why it took so long for games like Minecraft and Disney Infinity to happen.

But even these days, how often do players find themselves trying to disarm a primed grenade that has escaped their grasp in a circular wind tunnel? How do you keep a flask from spilling water as you're caked by jetpack-clogging mushrooms thrown by cheeky imps? What do you do with a killer bee you've caught from its nest but stings while you flip through your inventory? What happens if you hold a frightened pink ball of fluff under red drops of acid jam? These just weren't the questions gamers were used to pondering. Equally important, it turned out nor were they questions a developer needed to contrive.

Exile.

The intelligence required for path-finding and strategy alone must have been a challenge in itself, but the indignance of that Darlek-esque sentinel as I landed politely on its head, the audacity of the villain Triax teleporting in and out to shoot me in the back, that endearing desperation whenever Fluffy clung to me for dear life... Was any of that real or did I imagine it? Advanced AI has often proved a poor investment in games. It can be so very clever but the bottom line is: if it's not noticed, it's completely wasted. The AI in Exile probably doesn't compare to what exists in today's games, but again... this isn't what's important. The secret is frequently staring right at us, through the eyes of a great movie star or even a wooden actor who knows when to exploit that unfortunate quality. Explicit emotional performances or Shakespearean monologues aren't necessary to immerse the audience in the mind of the character. Many actors have made the point that the power of ambiguity can be far more powerful. If there's drama in the situation, the audience can do all that leg work for the actor, who only has to project the illusion of thought. Artificial intelligence in entertainment is as much about anthropomorphism as it is about explicit communication or action. If it's done well it can be concocted in the eye of the beholder, emerging from situation, emerging from conflict, as an emergent... narrative.

Exile demonstrated a strong sense for crafting these natural unpredictable behaviour patterns, giving the illusion of a deeper intelligence and appearing to show changes in mood or temperament. Even if that sometimes just meant knowing when to hold still for a few seconds and do absolutely nothing, like when you give a spider a little poke to watch it play dead. How can something so motionless be so captivating? The AI was superb, but so was this pseudo AI.

For many reasons Exile was the game that made the biggest impression on me, and it wasn't long before I hooked up with school friend Chris Mullender to make our own game for the Amiga 500. What started out as a simple platformer inspired by Giana Sisters soon ballooned into our own sprawling world of bizarre creatures that followed their own laws and physical abilities. We realised then that we had both been heavily inspired by the land of Exile, even down to logistics such as memory management. It was literally impossible to store a map of that size into 32k. Chris' research uncovered how the map was constructed from selected procedural tile sets. This blew my mind, it felt like the big bang in reverse. Also, I remembered seeing the game played on an even less powerful machine, an Acorn Electron and noticed a large portion of the screen filled with corrupt graphics. It turned out this was no bug, but a technique that harnessed the screen buffer to store data. Genius! So we stored our game's hidden cave map data in the island's negative space - the sky. This instantly halved the size of our map data.

We learnt a lot regarding how so much could be put into so little space. It felt only natural to write a fan letter to the developers of Exile, and I was thrilled to receive a handwritten reply from Peter Irvin. However, it was in that letter I learned the tragic news of the death of his co-developer Jeremy Smith (who had previously created the much loved gravity game Thrust). Also sad was the speculation of what magic such a partnership would have gone on to create next.

In a strange mirroring of fate, a sequence of events followed that saw us releasing our game Odyssey under the same publisher as the Amiga version of Exile. My partner was hired to code for Peter's following projects and by the end of the next decade I had lost Chris, my co-creator and closest friend to a sudden illness. I was most touched when Peter reached out to console me, having been through the very same thing with Jeremy.

Reece Millidge and Chris Mullender.

When I look back on the development of Odyssey, before it entered that tough phase to bring it to completion, I remember the joyful fleshing out on whim and self indulgence. We drew on what excited us and made us laugh. I ate lots of biscuits and Chris drank lots of tea. We were making it because we enjoyed the process. Who knew that making a game could be as much fun as playing one?

When the red light blinked on the camcorder, I dollied towards the puppet and triggered the microdet. But the jam didn't explode. There was a loud pop and sparks flew from its head but the balloon was so tightly packed that it launched intact, remaining lodged and bulging out of its forehead. We were mucking about... and we mucked it up, but it was hilarious fun. Much like the time we filmed a firework backfiring a cardboard bazooka, singeing the armpit of my brother's favourite teddy bear. Or when a friend painted his face silver and climbed into his mum's washing machine, snapping the door off its hinges. We weren't playing to win, we were playing to play.

Now I find myself in the role of a responsible parent, supplying the back garden and fencing in the boundaries for my own kids to push. But like a lot of games developers still under the spell, I'm really just trying to recreate the playgrounds of my own childhood. If I'm still mucking around at middle age where things make only less sense, then it looks like I'll remain forever in exile, playing happily with grenades, pink balls of fluff and raspberry preserves.