31-07-08
IT’S RAINING!!
Like, PROPER raining too! Some dude just came in from a bus journey drenched to the skin! xD He had to borrow spare clothes from the rest of the department – currently he’s wrapped up in a lady’s cardigan! AHAHAHAHAH!
I for one have been immensely cheered by the rain, it’s now very cool in the office as a result and my hay fever is nonexistent thanks to any pollen being bashed down by all the falling water. We even had a couple of thunder rolls and lightning strikes a little while ago!
Wonderful.
Anyway, I was listening to the raydlio last night, and on a whim decided to listen to Radio 1’s Colin Murray, who tends to play just about anything he can get his hands on, including some really tripped-out alternative music as well as the standard listener-magnet tracks. Last night he was on a ‘songs with brackets in their titles’ kick, the list of which contained some rather awesome numbers I haven’t heard in a while. Chief among them were ‘Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t Have Fallen In Love With)’ by the Buzzcocks, ‘Drawing (Rings Around the World)’ by Super Furry Animals and the utterly brilliant ‘(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party)’ by the Beastie Boys.
And all that aside, I heard a song that has been rolling around the corners of my brain since I heard it. I honestly can’t describe this song, but it’s great. If you get a chance, downl- sorry, ahem, ‘legitimately acquire’ Dan Le Sac vs. Scroobius Pip – ‘A Letter From God to Man’, it’s the dog’s wotsits.
BACK TO WORK UGH
~ Love, Odsox.
P.S. Just an update on the rain – The females are now TERRIFIED to go out of the building because there’s a three-inch deep mini-lake between the entrance and the car park! Bloody wimps! xD
Thursday 31 July 2008
Monday 28 July 2008
"No fucking shit, lady. Do I sound like I'm ordering a pizza?"
I watched Die Hard last night. As it started, it occurred to me that I've never sat all the way through it before, I've always ended up catching a few minutes here, a few minutes there, and never really got into it as a result.
So I decided to actually watch it, and I have to admit that it's one of the funnier action movies I've seen. Particularly the line I've used for my blog title, which was delivered by Bruce Willis as a sort of half-shout-half-scream of frustration, followed by loads of gunfire. Extremely entertaining.
How have you all been, by the way? I for one had an incredibly hot weekend, and found myself spending most of it outside in the sunshine, whether I was out identifying plants and insects in the garden with Big Rich (that's ma stepdad, if you didn't know), walking around the Greenstead estate and down to Tescos, or out in the garden with Alison (that's Chris' mum) enjoying the rustle of leaves in the breeze while I did some sketching. I didn't have much time for the PC to be honest, what with it being ridiculously humid and sticky as well as hot. The old chrome fan has been on pretty much 24 hours a day the past three days, even though I've got all the windows wide open and an adequate supply of cold water.
It really isn't computer game weather.
Still, saying that, the few hours I did manage to get in on the PC involved some fun online games of Dawn of War: Soulstorm with Chris (who's a bit ill at the moment, apparently there's something going round), and of course a couple of Warfare games on trusty old Unreal 3. I did, admittedly, get a bit PO'ed at one point while playing Unreal, though I reined it in, didn't say anything and set myself to getting vengeance on the bastard that kept sniping me. Squashed him good with a Manta attack speeder. Also managed to score some points while orb-running, and got a particularly brilliant Killing Spree that I ended AT THE EXACT SAME MOMENT AS ACHIEVING IT, thusly:
"Odsox is on a killing spree!"
"Odsox fired his rocket prematurely."
"Odsox ended his own killing spree."
BOOOOOO, though I did end up laughing at myself, which is what these games are all about, if you ask me. Having a laugh and relieving one's tension. Plus, the next game that my team played stormed into the enemy and won the game in approximately three minutes, which is unbelievable for a Warfare match. Not that I had too great a part in that match, I tend to spend my Warfare time going vehicle-hunting (NB: The AVRiL ((Anti-Vehicle Rocket Launcher - the i just helps pronounciation)) doesn't reload fast enough!), so I was speeding around in a Scorpion looking for things to kill when the game suddenly ended.
Oh, and by the way, I'm thinking of selling on some of my comics, so should any of you get the urge to make some impulse purchases, let me know. I'm still trying to understand the eBay thing.
So I decided to actually watch it, and I have to admit that it's one of the funnier action movies I've seen. Particularly the line I've used for my blog title, which was delivered by Bruce Willis as a sort of half-shout-half-scream of frustration, followed by loads of gunfire. Extremely entertaining.
How have you all been, by the way? I for one had an incredibly hot weekend, and found myself spending most of it outside in the sunshine, whether I was out identifying plants and insects in the garden with Big Rich (that's ma stepdad, if you didn't know), walking around the Greenstead estate and down to Tescos, or out in the garden with Alison (that's Chris' mum) enjoying the rustle of leaves in the breeze while I did some sketching. I didn't have much time for the PC to be honest, what with it being ridiculously humid and sticky as well as hot. The old chrome fan has been on pretty much 24 hours a day the past three days, even though I've got all the windows wide open and an adequate supply of cold water.
It really isn't computer game weather.
Still, saying that, the few hours I did manage to get in on the PC involved some fun online games of Dawn of War: Soulstorm with Chris (who's a bit ill at the moment, apparently there's something going round), and of course a couple of Warfare games on trusty old Unreal 3. I did, admittedly, get a bit PO'ed at one point while playing Unreal, though I reined it in, didn't say anything and set myself to getting vengeance on the bastard that kept sniping me. Squashed him good with a Manta attack speeder. Also managed to score some points while orb-running, and got a particularly brilliant Killing Spree that I ended AT THE EXACT SAME MOMENT AS ACHIEVING IT, thusly:
"Odsox is on a killing spree!"
"Odsox fired his rocket prematurely."
"Odsox ended his own killing spree."
BOOOOOO, though I did end up laughing at myself, which is what these games are all about, if you ask me. Having a laugh and relieving one's tension. Plus, the next game that my team played stormed into the enemy and won the game in approximately three minutes, which is unbelievable for a Warfare match. Not that I had too great a part in that match, I tend to spend my Warfare time going vehicle-hunting (NB: The AVRiL ((Anti-Vehicle Rocket Launcher - the i just helps pronounciation)) doesn't reload fast enough!), so I was speeding around in a Scorpion looking for things to kill when the game suddenly ended.
Oh, and by the way, I'm thinking of selling on some of my comics, so should any of you get the urge to make some impulse purchases, let me know. I'm still trying to understand the eBay thing.
Thursday 24 July 2008
"Directive?"
I went to see Wall-E with Gem last night, and instead of launching into a huge raving review, I'm gonna say
YOU HAVE TO SEE IT YOUR LIFE DEPENDS UPON IT
And leave it at that.
Also, I may have fallen a little bit in love with the (technically) female lead, EVE. You'll understand when you see her in action.
So, the pure, unbridled brilliance that was Wall-E really made my night. The guys at work were kind enough to let me leave early, Gem and I snuck miniature bottles of Jack Daniels into the theeyaytah and dumped 'em in our Big-Glug Diet Cokes (heaven!) and that really helped! Also, I've found a kindred cinema spirit in young Gem in that aside from me, she's the only person I've met who intentionally sits front-row-centre at the pictures BECAUSE WHO CARES ABOUT YOUR NECK WHEN THE SCREEN'S THIS BIG and we actually got a laugh and a smiley conversation from the pretty ticketmistress when we started raving about how being front and centre is the best.
Well think about it, the screen's MASSIVE when you're that close, there's no-one sitting in front of you to get in your way, AND you can take your shoes off, stretch your legs out and slump comfortably into your chair, thus avoiding potential neck-ache! Plus, you don't have to fiddle and fumble for anything you've brought with you because you've got the entire floor to use!
Also, Gem pointed out that when you're in the front (and the only people at the front, like we were) you can pretend the rest of the cinema doesn't exist! It's just you, the screen and EVE..
..she was lovely. For a robot, of course.
Right, I'm going to go and see if anyone'll accept blood as payment for a Carling Festival ticket.
Have a nice day!
P.S. If anyone knows how many souls it would cost me to get a pair of these badboys, let me know!
YOU HAVE TO SEE IT YOUR LIFE DEPENDS UPON IT
And leave it at that.
Also, I may have fallen a little bit in love with the (technically) female lead, EVE. You'll understand when you see her in action.
So, the pure, unbridled brilliance that was Wall-E really made my night. The guys at work were kind enough to let me leave early, Gem and I snuck miniature bottles of Jack Daniels into the theeyaytah and dumped 'em in our Big-Glug Diet Cokes (heaven!) and that really helped! Also, I've found a kindred cinema spirit in young Gem in that aside from me, she's the only person I've met who intentionally sits front-row-centre at the pictures BECAUSE WHO CARES ABOUT YOUR NECK WHEN THE SCREEN'S THIS BIG and we actually got a laugh and a smiley conversation from the pretty ticketmistress when we started raving about how being front and centre is the best.
Well think about it, the screen's MASSIVE when you're that close, there's no-one sitting in front of you to get in your way, AND you can take your shoes off, stretch your legs out and slump comfortably into your chair, thus avoiding potential neck-ache! Plus, you don't have to fiddle and fumble for anything you've brought with you because you've got the entire floor to use!
Also, Gem pointed out that when you're in the front (and the only people at the front, like we were) you can pretend the rest of the cinema doesn't exist! It's just you, the screen and EVE..
..she was lovely. For a robot, of course.
Right, I'm going to go and see if anyone'll accept blood as payment for a Carling Festival ticket.
Have a nice day!
P.S. If anyone knows how many souls it would cost me to get a pair of these badboys, let me know!
Tuesday 22 July 2008
Murkanary
Sounds a bit like a pokemon, doesn't it?
I'm not going to start out this blog with a tirade of bitter sentences all in capital letters or complain about anything in particular, much as I would like to. I've been having one of those runs of annoyance and frustration that one blessed with less testicular fortitude might refer to as 'depression', so I've decided to list my Top Five Favourite Things to cheer myself up. I might do some writing later on as well.
So!
5. Online Gaming.
Just gotten back into online gaming recently with the addition of my shiny new 'net connection, and I have to say I'd completely forgotten that it can vary so much! There are the obviously irritating moments, i.e. when ANYONE uses the word noob or one of its variations, but
there's the sheer brilliance of co-ordinating movements with another player and formulating battle plans, as well as sharing ideas and tips!
there's the sheer brilliance of co-ordinating movements with another player and formulating battle plans, as well as sharing ideas and tips!
4. Movies.
I LOVE a good movie. Especially on those incredibly rare occasions when I get to go with a group. I've been unable to do this recently due to my lack of funding what with Reading coming up, so my monthly issues of Total Film are becoming slightly dog-eared as a result. If I can't see the movies I just have to read about 'em as much as possible. :(
3. The Sandwich.
I WOULD go with 'nuff said', but I can't expound upon the virtues of the sandwich enough. I assume you already know the origins of this humble yet satisfying snack, so I won't go into that, but I am of the firm belief that you could cram just about anything into a sandwich. Hells, I
remember the grotesquerie that was my neighbour's children living on sugar sandwiches when I was little.
2. A Good Book.
No, not THE Good Book (although I have read it cover-to-cover and to be honest I only liked Genesis and Revelations, the rest was a bit dull). I mean the satisfaction that comes from reading a good book, or even better, a series of good books! There's something great about getting to know the characters and the worlds of someone else's imagination, then the reactions you get from whatever occurs. I highly recommend the Farseer Trilogy by Robin Hobb, by the way.
1. The Carling Festival (Reading).
Do you know how I measure my year? You probably measure yours the same way as everyone else, i.e. 1st of January to the 31st of December (or otherwise where applicable) but what I'm getting at is that my year ends on the final day of the Festival (Sunday) and begins on Monday morning, when all the grubby, smelly, bleary-eyed, hungover or else wasted festivalgoers pack up their little canvas homes for another year and roll on back to civilisation. It's the most amazing three (sometimes five!) days of my entire year, without fail. I get to spend nearly a WEEK with my best friends (well, most of 'em, it's a shame my geek buddies aren't into festivals), listen to some awesome bands, hang out with thousands of people who are trying far too hard to be cool, which is no end of amusement to me, and get the fuck AWAY from everything. No offices, no computers, no buses, no chavs, no drug-crazy neighbours, no rent, no tax.. I'm getting all nostalgic now. I may even squirt a few tears.
Of course, the saddest thing is that this, potentially my eighth year in a row, is so far looking like the least likely of years for me to go. Unless I can pull out all the stops budget wise and scam some money out of people, I won't be going. SO! If anyone knows of a way to make a quick two hundred squid or wants to buy any of my doodles from the gallery (see Linkage, right ->), now's the time to let me know!
And how hard can it BE to use this eBay thing, anyway..
...oh hell, I don't know what any of these words mean! GEM! HELP ME OUT BUDDEH! What in the name of the Emperor is a 'listing charge'?!
Monday 21 July 2008
Ohsh- HE'S GONNA RANT!
Lex Ferenda
The year is 2066, and after a ten-year war spanning the globe, the heroic agents of the British Empire's Metahuman Corps have successfully halted the threat of the American-Asian Alliance, but at a terrible cost.
Europe is in ruins. France is gone, carved from the continent by a Chinese super-weapon called the Moon Sword. Italy has been decimated by an earthquake induced by American weaponry that split the country in half. The rest of Europe and the British colonies along the eastern coast of what used to be the United States are slowly recovering, though they are surrounded by desolate wastelands that stretch across thousands of miles.
Beaten into retreat by the world's greatest legion of metahumans, the Americans have gone to ground. The Empire is attempting to rebuild its lost colonies, and is working to reinforce its hold on Europe to block any further advances from the still-defiant forces of Asia. The Imperial forces are beset by spies from within and deadly raids on their territorial borders from without, all the while working to keep the vitriolic metahuman population of the British Central Isles under control.
You are one of the Empire's latest recruits, a metahuman with untapped potential. On your arrival in London, you are transferred to CAPE, the base of operations for the nation's empowered protectors. After a rigorous training regime, you will have your abilities unleashed and put to good use by the Empire.
Assigned to a Street Team of fellow recruits watched over by an Enforcer, one of CAPE's formidable psychics, you will work your way up through the ranks to become a true hero. During your actions in London, it becomes clear that the fires of rebellion seethe beneath the skin of the Empire, but will you stamp it out or fan the flames?
As your career progresses, your team become embroiled in a sinister plot to bring down the Empire from within, and will be forced to cross into hostile territories, including the European Wastes, the war-torn battlefields of Asia where the fight never ceases, the mysterious city of Desolation, U.S.A. and even the abandoned Chinese lunar complex housing the deactivated Moon Sword.
GAME FEATURES:
The abilities you gain during your Activation affect the way you play!
+ Decimate enemy armour, shrug off bullets and reduce buildings to rubble with your bare hands as an unstoppable Titan!
+ Become a Hawk to eliminate enemies at lightning speed and take flight to strike with deadly precision from the air!
+ As a Warrior, the ultimate fighter, any weapon you pick up, be it blade, bludgeon or firearm will become a masterpiece of death in your hands!
+ Speak to machines, create bizarre weapons and control astounding vehicles of war as the ever-ready Enginseer!
+ Focus your mind to shred metal and destroy your foes with Tactile Telekinesis as an Enforcer or become a Puppet Master to hurl objects and your enemies around like toys!
+ As a Pyro, Geo, Aero or Hydromancer, control the elements themselves and the destructible environment becomes your playground!
Customisable Characters!
Hundreds of customisation options -
+ Appearance - Make your Hydromancer stand out from the crowd with silver hair and blue skin or create an imposing Titan with fiery eyes and a rocky hide that bullets bounce off!
+ Background - CAPE recruits from all over the world! Is your Puppet Master fleeing metahuman persecution from the African Borderlands? Was your Hawk an S.L. Academy prodigy whose whole family has enrolled as CAPE agents? You decide!
+ Personality - Does your Titan love monster trucks as much as you do? Are they more likely to help a wounded soldier than grant them a merciful death? It's up to you!
(NB: Like all good game designers, I've listed these last two as customisation options when it's really just a few boxes for information you can choose to leave blank! NWN Alignments and Background, anyone? xD)
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Okay, so there are the bare bones for my game. Lex Ferenda is a working title which means 'The Law as it Should Be'. It would play like a Role Playing Game, with elements of first-person-shooters and God of War-style action sequences with a ton of enemies, and it would be intensely story-driven (and written by me, damn it, I'm sick of the pee-poor dialogue I keep seeing in games), though without a huge emphasis on finding people and talking to them. It's war out there and possible insurrection in here, YOU AIN'T GOT TIME TO CHAT!
There would be an extensive single-player campaign spanning chapters and issues in a comic book style-ee, but I'd like a multiplayer campaign too, where you go through the game with a team formed from your friends or clan mates or acquaintances or whatever. It'd probably be quite sweary, with a few seriously gory moments, because let's face it, reality is harsh, so why not take it further with fiction? And that brings me to my reason for thinking this up:
I am tired of seeing reality duplicated in videogames. You can keep your precious football games (which as far as I'm concerned aren't games anyway), sponsored racing games and fething World War games. This is all stuff we know, we've seen, it happened, it's OVER.
I want to see more games with freaky creatures and weird goings-on, alternate dimensions and histories, more examples of surreality and just out-and-out weirdness! Stuff that just doesn't happen in real life! Who cares about whether the new Fifa has all the licensed players from the many and various leagues (I know next to nothing about footy btw) - Have any of the players got five eyes? Guns for toes? do they have a predisposition to eating old rubber tyres or do they fly starships made from cheese to their games of ubarfitba (which is a game played on aircraft carriers using horses, tridents, one military-grade laser cannon per team and one very worried were-hamster)?
We already know about reality! With videogames you can do anything! USE YOUR IMAGINATIONS FOR A CHANGE!
...wow, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to go on such a rant.
Anyway, I'm particularly fond of the battlefields idea, and before anyone asks, I'm aware of how obvious it is so it's no spoiler, but YES, THE MOON SWORD IS A GIANT MOON LASER.
....LAZERZLAZERZLAZERZ
Any questions would be welcome :D
Wednesday 16 July 2008
"Like anything worth writing, it came inexplicably and without method."
Yeah, I'm never going to get tired of that quote. It's Kay Eiffel (character) from Stranger Than Fiction, number five on my Top Five All-Time Favourite Movies. Anyway, here's something I wrote today. It's D&D-oriented and details my Neverwinter Nights character's reasons for heading to the cold city and enrolling in the Academy there. LOOK OUT NON-NERDS!
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Odwyn tightened his grip on his staff, watching the rift open with one narrowed black eye. The swirling purple vortex grew into a tall oval shape, spilling tiny lights and a thin mist that
clung to the edges of the summoning circle, outlining the cylindrical confinement. The light reflected from his robe, highlighting the gilt silver edging against dark, red leather. The spell
had gone perfectly, as he'd expected; the small frown he wore merely a result of the theatrics insisted upon by the creature he'd decided to summon. He inspected the runes laid out around
the circle with a practiced eye. Not a single rune or sigil out of place, as usual. He looked up at the rift, which had begun to twist and now resembled a spiralling cloud of lights that seemed to be taking a more familiar shape. The cloud swept up suddenly, breaking from its spiral, and began to pour down, filling out a figure from the feet first like some expertly crafted hourglass pouring sand made from stars. Odwyn let a small, vain smile cross his lips and ran over the binding incantations in his mind, bringing his memory of the control and punishment spells to the fore. The purple light glowed faintly now, and an obviously female figure stood within it. Tendrils of a darker colour stretched out from the back of its bowed head, spreading out and becoming a long, thick mass of hair curled into ringlets of a style popular in Waterdeep. As the more intimate details of the figure's skin began to appear, a simple shift of fabric in purple so dark as to be almost black slipped into being, coiling slowly up and around the figure like a protective lover. Its face lifted to the air, and a narrow nose appeared above full, red lips curved in a smile. Two tiny points of light came into being on its face, expanding into softly glowing eyes of a solid, crystal white.
'Ah, Odwyn. So good to see you again,' purred the apparition, tucking a lock of purple hair behind its ear with a perfectly-manicured finger. The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile, and she lowered her eyelashes, looking at the sorcerer coyly. He frowned again, and raised a hand, making a claw gesture.
'None of your games, Khadys, I haven't the time.'
The summoning made a pretty pout, folding her arms petulantly.
'But Odwyn, don't you enjoy our games? Why else would you summon me?'
The sorcerer sighed, and snapped his fingers. A clicking noise answered him from the darkness beneath a workbench. A huge blue beetle came scurrying across the tiled floor and leapt to his shoulder, wings buzzing furiously. The horned insect tilted its head back and forth, eyeing the captive woman. It inclined its head toward its master. The sorcerer smiled and ran a beringed finger gently over the beetle's carapace.
'I know she doesn't look like much, dear Keke, but she does have the answers we seek,' he said quietly, adding ~Watch her carefully. Mind her tricks,~ through his familiar's mental link. The apparition appeared put out by this display of affection, and casually allowed her shift to slip an inch or two down one shoulder. Her captor returned his attention to the being in the circle. Her purple skin reflected the light of Odwyn's candle-lit workroom in a distracting way, highlighting the smoothness of her skin and the gentle curves that trailed off beneath her shift. She flicked her head lightly, and the subtle glimmer of -
Odwyn yelped suddenly as Keke bit down on his ear, and shook the familiar free with a snarl. He raised his hand in a violent gesture, then realised what had happened.
~Thank you, Keke,~ he sent. The beetle settled back onto his shoulder and the sorcerer's scowl became a smile as he turned the punishment spell against his captive. The effect was instantaneous. Lightning crackled across her purple body, tearing an ear-splitting shriek from those full lips. The luxurious hair which draped across her shoulders paled to a matt white, becoming coarse, sharp and straight as it crept back from her forehead to reveal two dark horns. Her white eyes became an electric blue, glinting with malice. As the simple shift she wore fell away to reveal a more muscular, red-skinned body, far darker in tone than the one she had worn, Odwyn grinned in triumph, and spoke in tones of command.
'Khadys Tal'Ratha Orin'vesh'tak Y'lrahtep, I bind you by the runes of blood, the runes of fire, and the sigil of law.'
A darkness seemed to fall upon the room as the sorcerer spoke.
'My will is greater than yours, my faith is greater than yours and my power will forever be a sun to your mere spark.'
Odwyn loomed suddenly, the darkness rising behind him like a vengeful shadow.
'Answer my questions truthfully and without deceit, lest your being be torn asunder by my wrath and the runes which bind you here,' he finished, snapping his hand around in a lashing
gesture. The summoning's body went horribly rigid with this last motion and as another shriek split the air a pair of leathery, eldritch wings exploded from her back, convulsing madly. Odwyn reigned in his power, and watched the succubus with an impassioned black eye. The devil shuddered, and ran her black talons through the coarse hair atop her skull, her wings folding back into repose with only the occasional twitch.
'Ooh, you aren't playing around at all, are you,' she asked, batting her eyes at the sorcerer and licking her lips.
'No need to get hasty,' she added as Odwyn curled his hand into a claw once more, 'I'll tell you what you want to know.'
'About time,' he growled, tapping his staff against the tiled floor. He drew himself up to his full height, fixing his one eye on the devil in the circle.
'You know how much I despise resorting to such formality. Still, if you insist,' he continued, clearing his throat, 'Khadys Y'lrahtep, I charge you to tell me the whereabouts of -'
'Neverwinter,' interjected the succubus, causing Odwyn to blink and falter mid-sentence. The sorcerer narrowed his eye again, and tapped his staff against the floor. Khadys raised a hand
in supplication and tilted her hips, wearing a patient smile.
'I swear by the sigil of law that binds me to this place that the one whom you seek may be found in the city of Neverwinter, hidden from your sight but clear to mine.'
'How may I find her?' asked the sorceror, his fingers playing anxiously across the runes of his staff. The succubus' pointed teeth came into view with her smile. She dropped one hand to her hip and rested the other against her chest, closing her eyes and tilting her face downward.
'You will find her among the people of Neverwinter. She will reveal herself to you when the time is right.'
The gravitas in her voice made the sorcerer frown. He tugged at his beard thoughtfully, staring past the succubus at the map of Faerhun on the far wall. Neverwinter was a long way away,
he thought to himself, already thinking of ways to make the travelling spell simpler and more efficient. Perhaps he could enlist Khadys' aid the journey. The succubus had proved her
resourcefulness in the past, and there was always the possibility of a cold night, when her infernal warmth could help him pass the nights in comfort, if not -Keke wrenched at his ear again, buzzing furiously. Odwyn swore loudly as the familiar spun out of his way and levelled his staff at the summoning circle. As the first syllables of the punishment cantrip left his mouth, leaving tiny lacerations on his lips that bled down his chin, he faltered. Where the succubus had been, the woman he sought now stood, surrounded by the gently thrumming runes he had painted. She was tall, with curled, jaw-length hair of a deep, autumnal red. She wore scaled armour of silver and gold over a leather tunic and breeches of a darker red than her hair. A weighty hammer hung at her left hip while a thick tome marked with the sigil of Kossuth, the Lord of Flames, hung at her right, attached by a pitted metal chain. Her green eyes were filled with a sorrow that pierced the sorcerer's heart.
'Odwyn,' she said, her voice quiet and pained, 'why are you doing this? What has changed so much that you would hurt me this way?'
A shiver of sadness passed through him until Keke buzzed up to his face, looping around his head. So quickly his familiar reminded him that this was just another of Khadys' tricks, faithful
creature that she was. Odwyn sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and tightening his grip on the rune-covered staff. He shook himself, and looked again at the image of his former lover.
She raised a hand to the barrier between them, but seemed to hesitate.
'Is this how she appears now?' the sorcerer asked, tilting his staff toward the circle.
'Odwyn, I don't know what you mean. Are you well?' asked the image, and the look of concern on its face finally snapped him back to his task. This could never be her. The staff blazed suddenly, and a coil of light extended around the circle, blades of blue energy extending from the band of light.
'Drop the charade now, Khadys. I grow tired of it, and you would do well to test my patience no longer.' The blades sliced into the cylindrical prison, and a sudden sneer appeared on the
face of the red-haired woman.
'Fine, fine,' came the voice of the succubus, and the scaled armour melted away, revealing Khadys' naked red form once again.
'You have grown serious, Odwyn. It doesn't suit you,' said the devil, a disappointed frown crossing her face for a scant moment.
'I have told you what you wish to know, now unless you want to play, let me go. I have other souls to enrapture,' she added with a smile, her pointed tongue tracing her upper lip. The sorcerer frowned once more as he ceased his spell, the blue blades dissipating like fine mist. The succubus flexed her wings within the confines of the summoning circle, anticipation apparent on her face. Odwyn nodded, and began the banishment spell. He spoke in a guttural language, his eye closed in concentration. Keke flitted around the circle, watching the devil with her multifaceted eyes. The runes around the circle slowly began to smoke and disappear, each one making a little fut! sound as it vanished. Before long, the stern, solid sigil of law was all that remained holding the succubus in place. As Odwyn began the final incantation it broke down into several squares, each breaking into smaller squares until they were gone from sight. The purple rift tore into being behind her and Khadys threw her captor one last glance as she stepped into it, curving her lips in a teasing smile.
'Oh, and Odwyn?'
The sorcerer looked up carefully, his staff set in an offensive position, ready to counter any tricks the succubus might decide to play.
'What?' he asked acidly, preparing a lightning bolt.
Khadys fixed him with her cruel blue eyes.
'She still loves you.'
The rift snapped closed, vanishing from sight as the bolt of elemental force crashed into the brick wall where it had been. The sorcerer heaved a breath, relaxing his grip on the staff. Keke
buzzed about his head curiously, before swooping around and diving onto her perch in the bookcase. She watched her master, clicking to herself as she settled into the elven skull that
served as her nest. Odwyn straightened up, sending his staff to its hook in the darkest corner of the room. He contemplated clearing the few singe marks from the floor and repairing the
damage to his far wall, but could not tear his thoughts from the journey that lay ahead. He moved to his desk, and sat down in the high-backed wooden chair. The clawed feet of the seat
trotted toward the desk until he was in a comfortable position. As the sorcerer pored over the piles of parchment and paper scattered over his desk, he snapped his fingers idly. Keke
buzzed across the room to alight on his shoulder. Odwyn tilted his head slightly, frowning in concentration.
'Hm? We're going to Neverwinter, my dear,' he said, one finger tracing the outline of a teleportation spell in a great blue tome. The beetle crept down his arm, hopping onto the book and angling its head up at its master. The one-eyed sorcerer blinked, then a satisfied smile stole onto his face.
'To find my true love, of course,' he said with a chuckle.
Keke's wings buzzed shortly. Odwyn lowered one beringed hand to the table, relishing the tickling sensation as his familiar stepped onto his palm. He ran a finger across her wing casing with a smile and lifted her back onto his shoulder. As he spread a scroll out onto the desk, weighing it down with two small metal figurines resembling toy soldiers, the beetle buzzed at him once more.
'Oh,' said the sorcerer, a contented gleam coming into his eye, 'We're going to kill her.'
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
There you go, that wasn't so difficult now, was it?
Thanks for taking the time to read through that jumble of fiction, I hope it didn't take up too much of your time. :) There were a few songs I listened to during the writing, I may as well list 'em.
Billy Talent - The Ex
Billy Talent - Line & Sinker
Paramore - Misery Business
Porcupine Tree - What Happens Now?
Ivy - Worry About You
Offspring - Gone Away
I listened to a few more of course, it didn't take me twenty minutes to throw this together. xD
Oh, as a side note, isn't it annoying as HELL when you're in the loo and some bastard just shoves on the door without even looking at the vacancy bar? I've never left a door unlocked, but it still pisses me off that these idiots just attempt to barge in without even checking the occupied/vacant bar.
Love, Odsox.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Odwyn tightened his grip on his staff, watching the rift open with one narrowed black eye. The swirling purple vortex grew into a tall oval shape, spilling tiny lights and a thin mist that
clung to the edges of the summoning circle, outlining the cylindrical confinement. The light reflected from his robe, highlighting the gilt silver edging against dark, red leather. The spell
had gone perfectly, as he'd expected; the small frown he wore merely a result of the theatrics insisted upon by the creature he'd decided to summon. He inspected the runes laid out around
the circle with a practiced eye. Not a single rune or sigil out of place, as usual. He looked up at the rift, which had begun to twist and now resembled a spiralling cloud of lights that seemed to be taking a more familiar shape. The cloud swept up suddenly, breaking from its spiral, and began to pour down, filling out a figure from the feet first like some expertly crafted hourglass pouring sand made from stars. Odwyn let a small, vain smile cross his lips and ran over the binding incantations in his mind, bringing his memory of the control and punishment spells to the fore. The purple light glowed faintly now, and an obviously female figure stood within it. Tendrils of a darker colour stretched out from the back of its bowed head, spreading out and becoming a long, thick mass of hair curled into ringlets of a style popular in Waterdeep. As the more intimate details of the figure's skin began to appear, a simple shift of fabric in purple so dark as to be almost black slipped into being, coiling slowly up and around the figure like a protective lover. Its face lifted to the air, and a narrow nose appeared above full, red lips curved in a smile. Two tiny points of light came into being on its face, expanding into softly glowing eyes of a solid, crystal white.
'Ah, Odwyn. So good to see you again,' purred the apparition, tucking a lock of purple hair behind its ear with a perfectly-manicured finger. The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile, and she lowered her eyelashes, looking at the sorcerer coyly. He frowned again, and raised a hand, making a claw gesture.
'None of your games, Khadys, I haven't the time.'
The summoning made a pretty pout, folding her arms petulantly.
'But Odwyn, don't you enjoy our games? Why else would you summon me?'
The sorcerer sighed, and snapped his fingers. A clicking noise answered him from the darkness beneath a workbench. A huge blue beetle came scurrying across the tiled floor and leapt to his shoulder, wings buzzing furiously. The horned insect tilted its head back and forth, eyeing the captive woman. It inclined its head toward its master. The sorcerer smiled and ran a beringed finger gently over the beetle's carapace.
'I know she doesn't look like much, dear Keke, but she does have the answers we seek,' he said quietly, adding ~Watch her carefully. Mind her tricks,~ through his familiar's mental link. The apparition appeared put out by this display of affection, and casually allowed her shift to slip an inch or two down one shoulder. Her captor returned his attention to the being in the circle. Her purple skin reflected the light of Odwyn's candle-lit workroom in a distracting way, highlighting the smoothness of her skin and the gentle curves that trailed off beneath her shift. She flicked her head lightly, and the subtle glimmer of -
Odwyn yelped suddenly as Keke bit down on his ear, and shook the familiar free with a snarl. He raised his hand in a violent gesture, then realised what had happened.
~Thank you, Keke,~ he sent. The beetle settled back onto his shoulder and the sorcerer's scowl became a smile as he turned the punishment spell against his captive. The effect was instantaneous. Lightning crackled across her purple body, tearing an ear-splitting shriek from those full lips. The luxurious hair which draped across her shoulders paled to a matt white, becoming coarse, sharp and straight as it crept back from her forehead to reveal two dark horns. Her white eyes became an electric blue, glinting with malice. As the simple shift she wore fell away to reveal a more muscular, red-skinned body, far darker in tone than the one she had worn, Odwyn grinned in triumph, and spoke in tones of command.
'Khadys Tal'Ratha Orin'vesh'tak Y'lrahtep, I bind you by the runes of blood, the runes of fire, and the sigil of law.'
A darkness seemed to fall upon the room as the sorcerer spoke.
'My will is greater than yours, my faith is greater than yours and my power will forever be a sun to your mere spark.'
Odwyn loomed suddenly, the darkness rising behind him like a vengeful shadow.
'Answer my questions truthfully and without deceit, lest your being be torn asunder by my wrath and the runes which bind you here,' he finished, snapping his hand around in a lashing
gesture. The summoning's body went horribly rigid with this last motion and as another shriek split the air a pair of leathery, eldritch wings exploded from her back, convulsing madly. Odwyn reigned in his power, and watched the succubus with an impassioned black eye. The devil shuddered, and ran her black talons through the coarse hair atop her skull, her wings folding back into repose with only the occasional twitch.
'Ooh, you aren't playing around at all, are you,' she asked, batting her eyes at the sorcerer and licking her lips.
'No need to get hasty,' she added as Odwyn curled his hand into a claw once more, 'I'll tell you what you want to know.'
'About time,' he growled, tapping his staff against the tiled floor. He drew himself up to his full height, fixing his one eye on the devil in the circle.
'You know how much I despise resorting to such formality. Still, if you insist,' he continued, clearing his throat, 'Khadys Y'lrahtep, I charge you to tell me the whereabouts of -'
'Neverwinter,' interjected the succubus, causing Odwyn to blink and falter mid-sentence. The sorcerer narrowed his eye again, and tapped his staff against the floor. Khadys raised a hand
in supplication and tilted her hips, wearing a patient smile.
'I swear by the sigil of law that binds me to this place that the one whom you seek may be found in the city of Neverwinter, hidden from your sight but clear to mine.'
'How may I find her?' asked the sorceror, his fingers playing anxiously across the runes of his staff. The succubus' pointed teeth came into view with her smile. She dropped one hand to her hip and rested the other against her chest, closing her eyes and tilting her face downward.
'You will find her among the people of Neverwinter. She will reveal herself to you when the time is right.'
The gravitas in her voice made the sorcerer frown. He tugged at his beard thoughtfully, staring past the succubus at the map of Faerhun on the far wall. Neverwinter was a long way away,
he thought to himself, already thinking of ways to make the travelling spell simpler and more efficient. Perhaps he could enlist Khadys' aid the journey. The succubus had proved her
resourcefulness in the past, and there was always the possibility of a cold night, when her infernal warmth could help him pass the nights in comfort, if not -Keke wrenched at his ear again, buzzing furiously. Odwyn swore loudly as the familiar spun out of his way and levelled his staff at the summoning circle. As the first syllables of the punishment cantrip left his mouth, leaving tiny lacerations on his lips that bled down his chin, he faltered. Where the succubus had been, the woman he sought now stood, surrounded by the gently thrumming runes he had painted. She was tall, with curled, jaw-length hair of a deep, autumnal red. She wore scaled armour of silver and gold over a leather tunic and breeches of a darker red than her hair. A weighty hammer hung at her left hip while a thick tome marked with the sigil of Kossuth, the Lord of Flames, hung at her right, attached by a pitted metal chain. Her green eyes were filled with a sorrow that pierced the sorcerer's heart.
'Odwyn,' she said, her voice quiet and pained, 'why are you doing this? What has changed so much that you would hurt me this way?'
A shiver of sadness passed through him until Keke buzzed up to his face, looping around his head. So quickly his familiar reminded him that this was just another of Khadys' tricks, faithful
creature that she was. Odwyn sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and tightening his grip on the rune-covered staff. He shook himself, and looked again at the image of his former lover.
She raised a hand to the barrier between them, but seemed to hesitate.
'Is this how she appears now?' the sorcerer asked, tilting his staff toward the circle.
'Odwyn, I don't know what you mean. Are you well?' asked the image, and the look of concern on its face finally snapped him back to his task. This could never be her. The staff blazed suddenly, and a coil of light extended around the circle, blades of blue energy extending from the band of light.
'Drop the charade now, Khadys. I grow tired of it, and you would do well to test my patience no longer.' The blades sliced into the cylindrical prison, and a sudden sneer appeared on the
face of the red-haired woman.
'Fine, fine,' came the voice of the succubus, and the scaled armour melted away, revealing Khadys' naked red form once again.
'You have grown serious, Odwyn. It doesn't suit you,' said the devil, a disappointed frown crossing her face for a scant moment.
'I have told you what you wish to know, now unless you want to play, let me go. I have other souls to enrapture,' she added with a smile, her pointed tongue tracing her upper lip. The sorcerer frowned once more as he ceased his spell, the blue blades dissipating like fine mist. The succubus flexed her wings within the confines of the summoning circle, anticipation apparent on her face. Odwyn nodded, and began the banishment spell. He spoke in a guttural language, his eye closed in concentration. Keke flitted around the circle, watching the devil with her multifaceted eyes. The runes around the circle slowly began to smoke and disappear, each one making a little fut! sound as it vanished. Before long, the stern, solid sigil of law was all that remained holding the succubus in place. As Odwyn began the final incantation it broke down into several squares, each breaking into smaller squares until they were gone from sight. The purple rift tore into being behind her and Khadys threw her captor one last glance as she stepped into it, curving her lips in a teasing smile.
'Oh, and Odwyn?'
The sorcerer looked up carefully, his staff set in an offensive position, ready to counter any tricks the succubus might decide to play.
'What?' he asked acidly, preparing a lightning bolt.
Khadys fixed him with her cruel blue eyes.
'She still loves you.'
The rift snapped closed, vanishing from sight as the bolt of elemental force crashed into the brick wall where it had been. The sorcerer heaved a breath, relaxing his grip on the staff. Keke
buzzed about his head curiously, before swooping around and diving onto her perch in the bookcase. She watched her master, clicking to herself as she settled into the elven skull that
served as her nest. Odwyn straightened up, sending his staff to its hook in the darkest corner of the room. He contemplated clearing the few singe marks from the floor and repairing the
damage to his far wall, but could not tear his thoughts from the journey that lay ahead. He moved to his desk, and sat down in the high-backed wooden chair. The clawed feet of the seat
trotted toward the desk until he was in a comfortable position. As the sorcerer pored over the piles of parchment and paper scattered over his desk, he snapped his fingers idly. Keke
buzzed across the room to alight on his shoulder. Odwyn tilted his head slightly, frowning in concentration.
'Hm? We're going to Neverwinter, my dear,' he said, one finger tracing the outline of a teleportation spell in a great blue tome. The beetle crept down his arm, hopping onto the book and angling its head up at its master. The one-eyed sorcerer blinked, then a satisfied smile stole onto his face.
'To find my true love, of course,' he said with a chuckle.
Keke's wings buzzed shortly. Odwyn lowered one beringed hand to the table, relishing the tickling sensation as his familiar stepped onto his palm. He ran a finger across her wing casing with a smile and lifted her back onto his shoulder. As he spread a scroll out onto the desk, weighing it down with two small metal figurines resembling toy soldiers, the beetle buzzed at him once more.
'Oh,' said the sorcerer, a contented gleam coming into his eye, 'We're going to kill her.'
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
There you go, that wasn't so difficult now, was it?
Thanks for taking the time to read through that jumble of fiction, I hope it didn't take up too much of your time. :) There were a few songs I listened to during the writing, I may as well list 'em.
Billy Talent - The Ex
Billy Talent - Line & Sinker
Paramore - Misery Business
Porcupine Tree - What Happens Now?
Ivy - Worry About You
Offspring - Gone Away
I listened to a few more of course, it didn't take me twenty minutes to throw this together. xD
Oh, as a side note, isn't it annoying as HELL when you're in the loo and some bastard just shoves on the door without even looking at the vacancy bar? I've never left a door unlocked, but it still pisses me off that these idiots just attempt to barge in without even checking the occupied/vacant bar.
Love, Odsox.
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Tuesday 15 July 2008
"We can't stop here! This is bat country!"
No particular reason for the title other than it's one of my favourite movie quotes.
So how is everybody? Sitting Comfortably? Then I'll begin.
Online gaming. When did it become so addictive? Also, am I the only one who is influenced by those around them during online games?
Example:
Normally, I am one of the most placid, considerate online gamers around, apart from my tendency to furiously ignore anyone who types using leetspeak. I'll let people steal my kills, fling their pointless insults (loser, fag, and of course, noob) and generally give the community a bad name, without a care in the world. What goes around, you know? But yesterday while playing Unreal Tournament 3 I suddenly became very, very angry. Not to the point where I was forced to swear AT anyone, because let's face it, slagging off people who live thousand of miles away isn't going to be nearly as effective as as a good slap, and one can't deliver one of those unless actually seated beside the offender.
But this guy/girl, probably a guy, looking back at the name, was costing my team the game. In a horribly blatant manner, as well. In one particular Warfare level of UT3 (Tank Crossing, Unreal players!) the most effective method of assaulting the enemy objective (Power Core) is to do the following:
A) Capture the Bridge Node. This activates the bridge which spans the huge chasm in the middle of the map.
B) Drive the Goliath (each team receives one of these massive tanks) across the bridge.
C) Navigate your way to the enemy power core and park the Goliath on a pressure pad which opens up the blast doors protecting it.
D) Fire.
But this was beyond the offender in question. He would REPEATEDLY jump in the Goliath (which means no-one else can get into the driver's seat) and proceed to drive backwards and forwards over the equivalent distance of about four metres. He wouldn't cross the bridge, he wouldn't get out of the tank, he wouldn't even fire the bloody thing.
Now, if one gets into a fast-paced First Person Shooter online, the one thing, above all else (including skill, talent, graphics, aiming, driving ability, EVERYTHING) that should concern a player is this:
Lag.
If one begins to lag, one bloody well notices. You won't be able to move, your weapons won't fire, nothing else will be moving or else everything will be moving in incredibly jerky fashion, like one of the old webcams that updated every second or two instead of streaming constantly. So there's a reason to ditch the game. I've done this myself once or twice. If all you can do is hover in mid-air because your computer's lagging so much that you aren't going to land for the next thirty seconds, it's time to leave the game. Common sense lads, fucking common sense.
So if this fellow was lagging (and the constant movement of the vehicle imply that this was NOT the case) he should have damn well known that the only thing to do was quit and let the other players enjoy their game. So the only other options (to me at least, most of the other players just assumed he didn't know how to drive, which is ridiculous) are that he was away from his keyboard, had gotten his keys jammed, or was just messing around and ruining it for everyone else.
The first you just don't do. Not while you're driving, for the Emperor's sake! Ditch the vehicle, die and respawn! Just leave your character to hover: this is accepted practice!
The second, well, you could at least TELL us! Would it take so long to type out, give me a moment here, let me get this right, 'sry keybord stuk lol'?
And the third, well. I don't like to think about it. What sort of person would deliberately do that? How can that be as much fun as actively participating in the fight?
Okay, rant over. My lunch break's nearly up and I needs me some cool water.
Thanks for putting up with me!
Love, Odsox.
So how is everybody? Sitting Comfortably? Then I'll begin.
Online gaming. When did it become so addictive? Also, am I the only one who is influenced by those around them during online games?
Example:
Normally, I am one of the most placid, considerate online gamers around, apart from my tendency to furiously ignore anyone who types using leetspeak. I'll let people steal my kills, fling their pointless insults (loser, fag, and of course, noob) and generally give the community a bad name, without a care in the world. What goes around, you know? But yesterday while playing Unreal Tournament 3 I suddenly became very, very angry. Not to the point where I was forced to swear AT anyone, because let's face it, slagging off people who live thousand of miles away isn't going to be nearly as effective as as a good slap, and one can't deliver one of those unless actually seated beside the offender.
But this guy/girl, probably a guy, looking back at the name, was costing my team the game. In a horribly blatant manner, as well. In one particular Warfare level of UT3 (Tank Crossing, Unreal players!) the most effective method of assaulting the enemy objective (Power Core) is to do the following:
A) Capture the Bridge Node. This activates the bridge which spans the huge chasm in the middle of the map.
B) Drive the Goliath (each team receives one of these massive tanks) across the bridge.
C) Navigate your way to the enemy power core and park the Goliath on a pressure pad which opens up the blast doors protecting it.
D) Fire.
But this was beyond the offender in question. He would REPEATEDLY jump in the Goliath (which means no-one else can get into the driver's seat) and proceed to drive backwards and forwards over the equivalent distance of about four metres. He wouldn't cross the bridge, he wouldn't get out of the tank, he wouldn't even fire the bloody thing.
Now, if one gets into a fast-paced First Person Shooter online, the one thing, above all else (including skill, talent, graphics, aiming, driving ability, EVERYTHING) that should concern a player is this:
Lag.
If one begins to lag, one bloody well notices. You won't be able to move, your weapons won't fire, nothing else will be moving or else everything will be moving in incredibly jerky fashion, like one of the old webcams that updated every second or two instead of streaming constantly. So there's a reason to ditch the game. I've done this myself once or twice. If all you can do is hover in mid-air because your computer's lagging so much that you aren't going to land for the next thirty seconds, it's time to leave the game. Common sense lads, fucking common sense.
So if this fellow was lagging (and the constant movement of the vehicle imply that this was NOT the case) he should have damn well known that the only thing to do was quit and let the other players enjoy their game. So the only other options (to me at least, most of the other players just assumed he didn't know how to drive, which is ridiculous) are that he was away from his keyboard, had gotten his keys jammed, or was just messing around and ruining it for everyone else.
The first you just don't do. Not while you're driving, for the Emperor's sake! Ditch the vehicle, die and respawn! Just leave your character to hover: this is accepted practice!
The second, well, you could at least TELL us! Would it take so long to type out, give me a moment here, let me get this right, 'sry keybord stuk lol'?
And the third, well. I don't like to think about it. What sort of person would deliberately do that? How can that be as much fun as actively participating in the fight?
Okay, rant over. My lunch break's nearly up and I needs me some cool water.
Thanks for putting up with me!
Love, Odsox.
Thursday 10 July 2008
"Odsox rode his own rocket into oblivion!"
Just a quick one to say I played my first few online deathmatches on Unreal 3 tonight. It's official: I suck.
But it's a bloody brilliant game! It was incredibly frantic, gunshots going every which way, and after two games I got into my stride, i.e. the bottom of the scoreboard. XD But I must stress that in Unreal there isn't any time to stand around and insult the other players, it's straight up kill or be killed. I think that has to be what I really love about it, everyone's too busy fragging to insult anyone else.
I soon realised that I was up against some serious players, who were just dominating the whole game. I always forget that in the FPS genre, you have to take your online game seriously, otherwise you just get rolled over. It doesn't bother me so much that I just kept dying, I was laughing at the sheer level of destruction for most of the game. ^o^
The final scoreboard before I decided to let the decent players enjoy themselves showed everyone in double figures (top score was 50 ftw) and right on the bottom line, there he is, young Odsox, with a grand total of 4 kills.
BUT THEY WERE BADASS KILLS YO
Not really, I'm convinced they were all flukes. Still, I had fun and probably got a few laughs from players who noticed how bad I was, and sometimes making 'em laugh is all that really matters.
^^;
TTFN!
Love, Odsox.
But it's a bloody brilliant game! It was incredibly frantic, gunshots going every which way, and after two games I got into my stride, i.e. the bottom of the scoreboard. XD But I must stress that in Unreal there isn't any time to stand around and insult the other players, it's straight up kill or be killed. I think that has to be what I really love about it, everyone's too busy fragging to insult anyone else.
I soon realised that I was up against some serious players, who were just dominating the whole game. I always forget that in the FPS genre, you have to take your online game seriously, otherwise you just get rolled over. It doesn't bother me so much that I just kept dying, I was laughing at the sheer level of destruction for most of the game. ^o^
The final scoreboard before I decided to let the decent players enjoy themselves showed everyone in double figures (top score was 50 ftw) and right on the bottom line, there he is, young Odsox, with a grand total of 4 kills.
BUT THEY WERE BADASS KILLS YO
Not really, I'm convinced they were all flukes. Still, I had fun and probably got a few laughs from players who noticed how bad I was, and sometimes making 'em laugh is all that really matters.
^^;
TTFN!
Love, Odsox.
Wednesday 9 July 2008
"What do you mean, 'file corrupted'!?"
BASTARD BLOODY THING!
When I went to bed last night, I thought to myself, hmm, I haven't played Pokemon (Emerald) in a while, I wonder how my game was going?
So I loaded it up, sat there happily in the dark, lit by the single, brilliant light from my little white DS Lite, enjoying the introductory animation and of course, the epic music.
...
...
The file cannot be loaded due to corruption. The game can be played.
New Game?
YOU- YOU- ARGH!! My precious pokemon! My Torkoal! My Torchic! MY POOR LITTLE JIGGLYPUFF!
This is why I've only ever finished Pokemon Red. I feel that somewhere out there is one of the Gods of Gaming, She Who Pwnz Pokemon, and she's laughing at me. My struggles to complete these gargantuan games are nothing but a source of amusement for her, and she'll never let me win.
So, intending to battle it out and start a new game, I began to play, promptly fell asleep and woke up at about three o'clock this morning when I dropped the DS on my face (I have a weird habit of falling asleep with my arms in the air, don't ask me why because I don't know). It really hurt, and I was disheartened further when, through bleary eyes, I realised I hadn't even gotten my first Pokemon from that bastard Professor Birch.
Never mind, eh.
Warhammer 40,00: Squad Command is turning out to be a lot harder than I thought - I'm stuck on the third level! Interestingly enough, I have a history of getting stuck on third levels. But that's beside the point.
Squad Command is fun, a bit more involved than expected, and rife with nice, fluffy bits from 40K. I particularly enjoy the moments after Space Marines get shot, when they snarl, 'Cast out the traitor!', or when the scouts say, 'For the Emperor!'. Plus, Sniper rifles are great fun, while shotguns do a damn sight more damage than I would have guessed. I expect to pick up shinier aecondary weaopns later on, but for now I'm content with my bolters, shotguns, sniperrifles and plasma guns. Those last are really powerful, they can cause massive damage to groups of enemies, and easily take down walls and fortifications.
Something I've only just noticed is that your troops can crouch behind cover as well,and setting them on Overwatch (leaving them with enough action points to fire their weapon should an enemy cross their path) is proving vital to my defence during the Enemy Turn.
I must must MUST get past this level so I can get more Space Marines and ditch the Scouts.
Later on we get tanks too!
Hope I didn't take up too much of your time!
Love, Odsox
When I went to bed last night, I thought to myself, hmm, I haven't played Pokemon (Emerald) in a while, I wonder how my game was going?
So I loaded it up, sat there happily in the dark, lit by the single, brilliant light from my little white DS Lite, enjoying the introductory animation and of course, the epic music.
...
...
The file cannot be loaded due to corruption. The game can be played.
New Game?
YOU- YOU- ARGH!! My precious pokemon! My Torkoal! My Torchic! MY POOR LITTLE JIGGLYPUFF!
This is why I've only ever finished Pokemon Red. I feel that somewhere out there is one of the Gods of Gaming, She Who Pwnz Pokemon, and she's laughing at me. My struggles to complete these gargantuan games are nothing but a source of amusement for her, and she'll never let me win.
So, intending to battle it out and start a new game, I began to play, promptly fell asleep and woke up at about three o'clock this morning when I dropped the DS on my face (I have a weird habit of falling asleep with my arms in the air, don't ask me why because I don't know). It really hurt, and I was disheartened further when, through bleary eyes, I realised I hadn't even gotten my first Pokemon from that bastard Professor Birch.
Never mind, eh.
Warhammer 40,00: Squad Command is turning out to be a lot harder than I thought - I'm stuck on the third level! Interestingly enough, I have a history of getting stuck on third levels. But that's beside the point.
Squad Command is fun, a bit more involved than expected, and rife with nice, fluffy bits from 40K. I particularly enjoy the moments after Space Marines get shot, when they snarl, 'Cast out the traitor!', or when the scouts say, 'For the Emperor!'. Plus, Sniper rifles are great fun, while shotguns do a damn sight more damage than I would have guessed. I expect to pick up shinier aecondary weaopns later on, but for now I'm content with my bolters, shotguns, sniperrifles and plasma guns. Those last are really powerful, they can cause massive damage to groups of enemies, and easily take down walls and fortifications.
Something I've only just noticed is that your troops can crouch behind cover as well,and setting them on Overwatch (leaving them with enough action points to fire their weapon should an enemy cross their path) is proving vital to my defence during the Enemy Turn.
I must must MUST get past this level so I can get more Space Marines and ditch the Scouts.
Later on we get tanks too!
Hope I didn't take up too much of your time!
Love, Odsox
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Tuesday 8 July 2008
"Why so serious?"
Oh come on, you knew I was qoing to throw a Battyman quote in here sometime. All the cool kids are doing it.
I'm not entirely sure why I've posted a poll, seeing as how (as far as I can tell) only two or three people visit my blog at the moment. Still, I've been hankering for some new writing and the few scrap I have going at the moment are a bit stale.
I'd love to start a comic (feels like I whinge about this every few weeks), but while I trust my writing skill in that regard I don't have quite nough talent to make a passable illustration of what I want to happen. And after a little thought, I realised that just posting lines of dialogue and barebones descriptions isn't going to work as an updating serial. So if any of you buggers know of an artist who's struggling to write their own comic and can take direction well, give us a shout, won't you? I've had a comic idea rolling around up here *taps noggin* for a while, and it's just the art that's eluding me. I can see the characters, I can see the world, I know how they behave and I know what's gong to happen, but I can't show anyone because I wouldn't be able to do it justice with my own level of skill.
[Side question: If you're an artist or, as I prefer to think of myself, a doodler: Do you have a style all your own? How did you get to it? Are you satisfied with what you can do? Why the platypus?]
Deep sigh. Anyway, I don't know about you but the price of movie tickets is really starting to make my blood boil. I was chatting to my buddy Chris about the price of movie tickets in the U.S. (or at least, in a certain part of Washington State) and found out that over there it costs a mere $10 to go to a late showing or a weekend showing, which works out at about a fiver! IT COSTS SEVEN POUNDS EIGHTY in our cinema! And the yanks can get one of those enormous popcorn boxes refilled for a paltry $1! THAT'S FIFTY BLOODY PENCE! One of those boxes over here would set you back a fiver on its own, and they'd probably chase you out with a fire extinguisher if you asked for a refill!
Speaking of movies and that, I don't suppose anyone fancies going to see The Incredible Hulk at some point over the next couple of weeks? There are so many movies coming out that I simply cannot afford to keep up with them anymore. It's a crying shame because I get Total Film delivered to my door every month (thank you yet again, Auntie Gill! ^o^), and I used to be a bit of a film buff, but because I can't afford the cinema anymore I have to read my TF religiously and pretend that I've seen the films. ;_; Also, I'm desperate to see Wall*E. It's out on the 21st, I think, so if anyone wants to pile down to Colchester or hit the big cinema in Ippers with Gem and me, you're more than welcome!
Hope I didn't take up too much of your time!
Love, Odsox.
....I'm Batman.
I'm not entirely sure why I've posted a poll, seeing as how (as far as I can tell) only two or three people visit my blog at the moment. Still, I've been hankering for some new writing and the few scrap I have going at the moment are a bit stale.
I'd love to start a comic (feels like I whinge about this every few weeks), but while I trust my writing skill in that regard I don't have quite nough talent to make a passable illustration of what I want to happen. And after a little thought, I realised that just posting lines of dialogue and barebones descriptions isn't going to work as an updating serial. So if any of you buggers know of an artist who's struggling to write their own comic and can take direction well, give us a shout, won't you? I've had a comic idea rolling around up here *taps noggin* for a while, and it's just the art that's eluding me. I can see the characters, I can see the world, I know how they behave and I know what's gong to happen, but I can't show anyone because I wouldn't be able to do it justice with my own level of skill.
[Side question: If you're an artist or, as I prefer to think of myself, a doodler: Do you have a style all your own? How did you get to it? Are you satisfied with what you can do? Why the platypus?]
Deep sigh. Anyway, I don't know about you but the price of movie tickets is really starting to make my blood boil. I was chatting to my buddy Chris about the price of movie tickets in the U.S. (or at least, in a certain part of Washington State) and found out that over there it costs a mere $10 to go to a late showing or a weekend showing, which works out at about a fiver! IT COSTS SEVEN POUNDS EIGHTY in our cinema! And the yanks can get one of those enormous popcorn boxes refilled for a paltry $1! THAT'S FIFTY BLOODY PENCE! One of those boxes over here would set you back a fiver on its own, and they'd probably chase you out with a fire extinguisher if you asked for a refill!
Speaking of movies and that, I don't suppose anyone fancies going to see The Incredible Hulk at some point over the next couple of weeks? There are so many movies coming out that I simply cannot afford to keep up with them anymore. It's a crying shame because I get Total Film delivered to my door every month (thank you yet again, Auntie Gill! ^o^), and I used to be a bit of a film buff, but because I can't afford the cinema anymore I have to read my TF religiously and pretend that I've seen the films. ;_; Also, I'm desperate to see Wall*E. It's out on the 21st, I think, so if anyone wants to pile down to Colchester or hit the big cinema in Ippers with Gem and me, you're more than welcome!
Hope I didn't take up too much of your time!
Love, Odsox.
....I'm Batman.
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Monday 7 July 2008
"Don't. Push. Me. 'Cause. I'm. Close. To. The. Edge."
It's extremely rare that I post two blogs in one day, but I just went down to collect a (insert appropriately healthy meal here) from the sandwich van, and as the sandwich lady did that weird thing where she goes to put the change in my hand but doesn't quite tip it into my palm and leaves her fingers there a bit too long for the umpteenth bloody time, it occurred to me:
I'm not very fond of being touched.
It's true! I get a bit nervy when people are too close to me (that's about six inches) and I nearly always jump a bit when someone touches me, unless it's something I anticipate (like a handshake) or initiate. I've just realised how self-concious physical contact makes me. It happens all the time - I usually manage to appear unaffected, but get very, very tense. I have a particular dislike of close talkers and people who hover. I think a distance of about twelve inches is a pretty good talking range, and if you're going to hover, I need at least ten inches of space to feel comfortable while allowing whoever to effectively observe what I do. There's a specific person to whom the hovering applies, and every time they do it, their face about a handspan away, I just have this urge to nut them or give them a slap. People shouldn't be that close unless they're, well, you know.
In a complete switcharound, however, I have no real problem with initiating contact myself. I'll happily offer a hug, or a shoulderpunch or a shove or whatever, just not the other way around. I chalk it up to my ridiculous amount of innate selfishness, but maybe there's more to it. Or maybe I'm reading into it too much, I don't know.
It's not a phobia by any means, I don't quake with fear or anything; I just don't like it.
Anyway, that's enough rambling for today.
Thanks for putting up with me!
Love, Odsox.
I'm not very fond of being touched.
It's true! I get a bit nervy when people are too close to me (that's about six inches) and I nearly always jump a bit when someone touches me, unless it's something I anticipate (like a handshake) or initiate. I've just realised how self-concious physical contact makes me. It happens all the time - I usually manage to appear unaffected, but get very, very tense. I have a particular dislike of close talkers and people who hover. I think a distance of about twelve inches is a pretty good talking range, and if you're going to hover, I need at least ten inches of space to feel comfortable while allowing whoever to effectively observe what I do. There's a specific person to whom the hovering applies, and every time they do it, their face about a handspan away, I just have this urge to nut them or give them a slap. People shouldn't be that close unless they're, well, you know.
In a complete switcharound, however, I have no real problem with initiating contact myself. I'll happily offer a hug, or a shoulderpunch or a shove or whatever, just not the other way around. I chalk it up to my ridiculous amount of innate selfishness, but maybe there's more to it. Or maybe I'm reading into it too much, I don't know.
It's not a phobia by any means, I don't quake with fear or anything; I just don't like it.
Anyway, that's enough rambling for today.
Thanks for putting up with me!
Love, Odsox.
"Don'fuhgetchateef!"
Let me tell you about my Wii injury.
It begins way back, through the mists of time, in Essex, somewhere closer to Barking than Colchester, outside a huge block of flats built in the traditional council estate fashion, at night. The blocks are huge and imposing in the darkness, looming over their concrete gardens like gritty sentinels, covered in thousands of glass eyes, some lit, some dark.
A red mondeo pulls up to the kerb about a hundred metres away from one particular block, just by a small, foot-high brick wall surrounding the concrete slope used for games during the day. As the engine dies, the passenger door of the car pops open, faintly illuminating a young boy with dirty blonde hair and a gap-toothed smile. He hops out of the vehicle, turns and shuts the door with a bit more force than is necessary. On the driver's side, a tall, black-haired man with a single gold earring has climbed out, and gives the boy a half-joking frown.
'Christ, shut the door,' he says, turning the keys to lock the vehicle up.
"Sorry, Dad!" replies the boy, grinning and looking around in the dark. His father steps around the car, fiddling with his mobile phone. The boy turns to look at the blocks, and, in the way that young boys everywhere do, sets off at a sprint.
His father has walked perhaps two metres, glaring at his phone, when he hears his son's step falter, followed by a thump, a quiet crack, and a high-pitched wail. He instantly moves into a sprint, heading toward the sound. As he steps over the little wall with his long legs, he spies his son on the concrete ground; on his knees and clutching at his mouth, tears streaming from his eyes.
'Oh bloody hell, come here, what have you done?' he asks the boy, lifting him to his feet and peering at his face. Some blood circles his son's mouth; not much, but enough to prove an injury. The boy speaks, but his hands muffle his voice. His father wipes the boy's eyes with the cuff of his jacket and pulls his hand away. Already possessing a sizeable gap between his front teeth, his son's front tooth has been cracked diagonally by the impact on the concrete, leaving an almost pointed remainder, coated with a little blood. The boy sniffs and whimpers, looking around for the missing piece of his precious tooth.
'I was running, and, and I fell over the wall! It really hurt!'
His father sighs, and grips the boy's shoulder.
'Well, it's your own fault for running off in the dark, isn't it? Come on, get inside and then we'll get you down the hospital.'
'I DON'T WANNA GO TO THE HOSPITAL!'
'Don't be stupid, you've got to. Come on, let's get inside, eh?'
'What about my tooth?'
'I'll come back out and look for it once you're settled in.'
'Okay.. but shouldn't we see the dentist?'
'Rich, we're going to the hospital.'
Fast forward twelve, fifteen years, to Essex again, but in Colchester, more specifically a small, cosy flat stuffed with mismatched furniture. Several young adults are gathered in the room, seated on different pieces of furniture. A big man sits nearest the massive television, seated on a pink sofa, looking quite comfortable with a Wiimote in his right hand and a large glass bottle of cider in the left. He grins as he chats to the others, still gap-toothed but with a whole front tooth where the cracked one once was.
'Weanie mate, this is brilliant. I need to get me one of these.'
'Hey man,' replies an even bigger man sat in a green leather armchair, leaning over to grab his own bottle of cider, 'you're welcome to come over and play anytime.'
'Cheers dude,' replies the young man, dirty blonde hair now a light shade of brown. He swings the Wiimote back and forth, playing against one of his other friends.
This is great, he reflects, eyes and Wiimote never leaving the tiny digital tennis ball zipping back and forth on the large screen, I can drink and play this at the same -
The sudden crack against his front tooth makes him drop the Wiimote, and, staring blindly at the television, he removes the cider bottle from his mouth. As he suddenly realises the idiocy of what he's done, he turns to the others.
'That was very, very stupid,' he says.
'What did you do?' asks a tall, skinny fellow seated on the arm of his girlfriend's chair.
'I.. I was thinking about how awesome it was that I could drink and play at the same time.. then I swung the Wiimote, hit the glass bottle, smacked it against my teeth and cracked it against me fake tooth.'
The other instantly burst out laughing, and the young man can't help but grin as well; he'd laugh too, if it hadn't been him.
'Shit,' he says, feeling the tooth with his tongue, 'That's definitely cracked. I'm not gonna be able to leave it alone, either. Bloody hell.'
Sure enough, over the next day, try as he might, he can't stop running the tip of his tongue across the edge of the fracture. It feels like a hairline, and on inspection he can see the line itself.
Later on, as he's over at his stepdad's, enjoying a slice of apple pie with hot custard, he swallows a mouthful of the sweet pie, and blinks. Cautiously, he taps the end of his tongue against the tooth.
A chunk of it has fallen off. Rushing to the mirror, he inspects the tooth. There. The corner of the tooh, made from a kind of dental concrete, has chipped off, leaving a jagged edge to the tooth, and a larger gap.
'Oh, brilliant,' he sighs, peering at the broken tooth.
'Back to square one.'
It begins way back, through the mists of time, in Essex, somewhere closer to Barking than Colchester, outside a huge block of flats built in the traditional council estate fashion, at night. The blocks are huge and imposing in the darkness, looming over their concrete gardens like gritty sentinels, covered in thousands of glass eyes, some lit, some dark.
A red mondeo pulls up to the kerb about a hundred metres away from one particular block, just by a small, foot-high brick wall surrounding the concrete slope used for games during the day. As the engine dies, the passenger door of the car pops open, faintly illuminating a young boy with dirty blonde hair and a gap-toothed smile. He hops out of the vehicle, turns and shuts the door with a bit more force than is necessary. On the driver's side, a tall, black-haired man with a single gold earring has climbed out, and gives the boy a half-joking frown.
'Christ, shut the door,' he says, turning the keys to lock the vehicle up.
"Sorry, Dad!" replies the boy, grinning and looking around in the dark. His father steps around the car, fiddling with his mobile phone. The boy turns to look at the blocks, and, in the way that young boys everywhere do, sets off at a sprint.
His father has walked perhaps two metres, glaring at his phone, when he hears his son's step falter, followed by a thump, a quiet crack, and a high-pitched wail. He instantly moves into a sprint, heading toward the sound. As he steps over the little wall with his long legs, he spies his son on the concrete ground; on his knees and clutching at his mouth, tears streaming from his eyes.
'Oh bloody hell, come here, what have you done?' he asks the boy, lifting him to his feet and peering at his face. Some blood circles his son's mouth; not much, but enough to prove an injury. The boy speaks, but his hands muffle his voice. His father wipes the boy's eyes with the cuff of his jacket and pulls his hand away. Already possessing a sizeable gap between his front teeth, his son's front tooth has been cracked diagonally by the impact on the concrete, leaving an almost pointed remainder, coated with a little blood. The boy sniffs and whimpers, looking around for the missing piece of his precious tooth.
'I was running, and, and I fell over the wall! It really hurt!'
His father sighs, and grips the boy's shoulder.
'Well, it's your own fault for running off in the dark, isn't it? Come on, get inside and then we'll get you down the hospital.'
'I DON'T WANNA GO TO THE HOSPITAL!'
'Don't be stupid, you've got to. Come on, let's get inside, eh?'
'What about my tooth?'
'I'll come back out and look for it once you're settled in.'
'Okay.. but shouldn't we see the dentist?'
'Rich, we're going to the hospital.'
Fast forward twelve, fifteen years, to Essex again, but in Colchester, more specifically a small, cosy flat stuffed with mismatched furniture. Several young adults are gathered in the room, seated on different pieces of furniture. A big man sits nearest the massive television, seated on a pink sofa, looking quite comfortable with a Wiimote in his right hand and a large glass bottle of cider in the left. He grins as he chats to the others, still gap-toothed but with a whole front tooth where the cracked one once was.
'Weanie mate, this is brilliant. I need to get me one of these.'
'Hey man,' replies an even bigger man sat in a green leather armchair, leaning over to grab his own bottle of cider, 'you're welcome to come over and play anytime.'
'Cheers dude,' replies the young man, dirty blonde hair now a light shade of brown. He swings the Wiimote back and forth, playing against one of his other friends.
This is great, he reflects, eyes and Wiimote never leaving the tiny digital tennis ball zipping back and forth on the large screen, I can drink and play this at the same -
The sudden crack against his front tooth makes him drop the Wiimote, and, staring blindly at the television, he removes the cider bottle from his mouth. As he suddenly realises the idiocy of what he's done, he turns to the others.
'That was very, very stupid,' he says.
'What did you do?' asks a tall, skinny fellow seated on the arm of his girlfriend's chair.
'I.. I was thinking about how awesome it was that I could drink and play at the same time.. then I swung the Wiimote, hit the glass bottle, smacked it against my teeth and cracked it against me fake tooth.'
The other instantly burst out laughing, and the young man can't help but grin as well; he'd laugh too, if it hadn't been him.
'Shit,' he says, feeling the tooth with his tongue, 'That's definitely cracked. I'm not gonna be able to leave it alone, either. Bloody hell.'
Sure enough, over the next day, try as he might, he can't stop running the tip of his tongue across the edge of the fracture. It feels like a hairline, and on inspection he can see the line itself.
Later on, as he's over at his stepdad's, enjoying a slice of apple pie with hot custard, he swallows a mouthful of the sweet pie, and blinks. Cautiously, he taps the end of his tongue against the tooth.
A chunk of it has fallen off. Rushing to the mirror, he inspects the tooth. There. The corner of the tooh, made from a kind of dental concrete, has chipped off, leaving a jagged edge to the tooth, and a larger gap.
'Oh, brilliant,' he sighs, peering at the broken tooth.
'Back to square one.'
Saturday 5 July 2008
"All weapons.. ONLINE."
I'm baaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaack!!
I finally have a home net connection, and I have to ask - what the fuck happened to the internet while I was away? Everything's fast and sleek and shiny! This BBC iPlayer business has to be one of the coolest things EVER, and -
I just remembered I can install my full version of the SPORE Creature Creator.
BYE!
love, Odsox.
I finally have a home net connection, and I have to ask - what the fuck happened to the internet while I was away? Everything's fast and sleek and shiny! This BBC iPlayer business has to be one of the coolest things EVER, and -
I just remembered I can install my full version of the SPORE Creature Creator.
BYE!
love, Odsox.
Friday 4 July 2008
"I JUST WANNA KNOW WHO DRIVIN' A BLACK MITSUBISHI!!"
I use the word 'hate' a lot. An awful lot. So often that no-one takes it seriously anymore. This got me thinking on the bus this morning; if I'm honest, what do I really really hate? And, after a careful process of whittling and battering my way up the list (it was like those friggin' steps at Pai Mei's place in Kill Bill 2) I managed to think of just a few things that genuinely piss me off. Things I can preface with the words 'I hate' and mean it. They're small, petty, personal things, but I've found that they're worth the most hating. Here we go, in ascending order:
5. People who claim to have hayfever but spend 97% of their Summer in blissful clarity.
SRSLY. I HATE these bastards. 'Ooh, I have hayfever, sniff sniff' BOLLOCKS!!! They don't understand TRUE suffering. I can't describe quite how horrific my hayfever becomes, but let's say that if you picture my mug with a streaming nose, snot in the moustache, eyes so bloodshot it looks like I've been in a Dutch greenhouse for a year, mounds of tissues that infest any place I go (so much so that I've been accosted by several of my managers over the years for the unhygienic ramifications of them) and an itching INSIDE MY EYES that no amount of scratching, rubbing or applying sandpaper will get rid of, then you have an inkling of what REAL hayfever is like.
4. People who walk slowly.
I know for a fact that I ain't alone here. How many times have you been trying to get somewhere only to have two or more (the worst is the Tourist Family) people casually stroll out into your path and proceed to walk so slow they may as well be going backwards? I honestly have to fight the urge to just elbow my way past these fuckers, so much so that I've decided my twilight years will be spent tracking groups of them in my Ben-Hur wheelchair with the wheel spikes and dozer blade in order to horribly maim them so they can't do it to anyone else. And if anyone says anything I'll just plead senility.
3. PDLs.
Or 'Public Displays of Lust'. Displays of affection are just fine with me. You know; a peck on the cheek, a gentle kiss, a casual slap on the rear, a hug, that sort of thing. It's when people insist on kissing like a pair of mating octopus that pisses me off. KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS ABOVE THE WAISTLINE, you degenerate shitters! When I'm wandering around I don't want to see Scrawny McWhiteboy trying to diddle Slaggy Whale-Arse's pooter in the middle of the bloody High Street!!
2. OMG
I swear by the blood of my ancestors, if I ever, ever murder someone, this is the likeliest of reasons. I cannot express my hatred of this phrase enough. It started with she-who-must-not-be-named (but you can find her on any cheapslack Home Video site) as far as I'm concerned, and it must end with her death. It's not even like I'm religious. In fact, some days I wish I WAS religious so that I could really take offence and be like, 'Don't speak the Lord's name in vain! TASTE GOODBOOK, HEATHEN! *BIBLESLAP*' I would actually carry a bible for that purpose. A leatherbound one with sharp metal studs on the cover and a bloody great raised metal crucifix for maximum bruising. Anyone, ANYONE who says this phrase in my presence is taking a risk. It implies a lack of intelligence, originality, creativity and just plain common sense. At least 50% of people (even if they don't like to admit it) don't believe in God (the Christian one, anyway), so they're impugning their own intelligence by uttering the bloody words!
1. People who think sharks are 'misunderstood'.
Fuck you. Fuck you right up the ass with a rusty chainsaw. A chainsaw with a fucking shark painted on it.
Do you even know anything about sharks?
"Evidence for the existence of sharks extends back over 450–420 million years."
This should imply something, at the very least. A predator that has been around that long has to be considered successful, if not ridiculously overqualified.
"Estimates suggest that over a span of a few years a shark may grow tens of thousands of teeth."
Yeah, did you ever read Little Red Riding Hood? ALL THE BETTER TO EAT YOU WITH, MOTHERFUCKER.
"Despite the common myth that sharks are instinct-driven "eating machines", recent studies have indicated that many species possess powerful problem-solving skills, social complexity and curiosity."
WHAT fucking myth!? They are driven by the instinct to eat!. AS ARE A MULTITUDE OF LIFEFORMS!!!! For fuck's sake!!
----------------------
Right, it's getting too sweary and idiotic in here for me, so I'm going to bow out and go to lunch.
Also, in response to questions about my Most Hated No.1 - Yes, I did consider The French, but deemed them an evolutionary cul-de-sac and ultimately harmless, whereas anyone with two brain cells to rub together can see that sharks remain a high-risk threat to international welfare.
5. People who claim to have hayfever but spend 97% of their Summer in blissful clarity.
SRSLY. I HATE these bastards. 'Ooh, I have hayfever, sniff sniff' BOLLOCKS!!! They don't understand TRUE suffering. I can't describe quite how horrific my hayfever becomes, but let's say that if you picture my mug with a streaming nose, snot in the moustache, eyes so bloodshot it looks like I've been in a Dutch greenhouse for a year, mounds of tissues that infest any place I go (so much so that I've been accosted by several of my managers over the years for the unhygienic ramifications of them) and an itching INSIDE MY EYES that no amount of scratching, rubbing or applying sandpaper will get rid of, then you have an inkling of what REAL hayfever is like.
4. People who walk slowly.
I know for a fact that I ain't alone here. How many times have you been trying to get somewhere only to have two or more (the worst is the Tourist Family) people casually stroll out into your path and proceed to walk so slow they may as well be going backwards? I honestly have to fight the urge to just elbow my way past these fuckers, so much so that I've decided my twilight years will be spent tracking groups of them in my Ben-Hur wheelchair with the wheel spikes and dozer blade in order to horribly maim them so they can't do it to anyone else. And if anyone says anything I'll just plead senility.
3. PDLs.
Or 'Public Displays of Lust'. Displays of affection are just fine with me. You know; a peck on the cheek, a gentle kiss, a casual slap on the rear, a hug, that sort of thing. It's when people insist on kissing like a pair of mating octopus that pisses me off. KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS ABOVE THE WAISTLINE, you degenerate shitters! When I'm wandering around I don't want to see Scrawny McWhiteboy trying to diddle Slaggy Whale-Arse's pooter in the middle of the bloody High Street!!
2. OMG
I swear by the blood of my ancestors, if I ever, ever murder someone, this is the likeliest of reasons. I cannot express my hatred of this phrase enough. It started with she-who-must-not-be-named (but you can find her on any cheapslack Home Video site) as far as I'm concerned, and it must end with her death. It's not even like I'm religious. In fact, some days I wish I WAS religious so that I could really take offence and be like, 'Don't speak the Lord's name in vain! TASTE GOODBOOK, HEATHEN! *BIBLESLAP*' I would actually carry a bible for that purpose. A leatherbound one with sharp metal studs on the cover and a bloody great raised metal crucifix for maximum bruising. Anyone, ANYONE who says this phrase in my presence is taking a risk. It implies a lack of intelligence, originality, creativity and just plain common sense. At least 50% of people (even if they don't like to admit it) don't believe in God (the Christian one, anyway), so they're impugning their own intelligence by uttering the bloody words!
1. People who think sharks are 'misunderstood'.
Fuck you. Fuck you right up the ass with a rusty chainsaw. A chainsaw with a fucking shark painted on it.
Do you even know anything about sharks?
"Evidence for the existence of sharks extends back over 450–420 million years."
This should imply something, at the very least. A predator that has been around that long has to be considered successful, if not ridiculously overqualified.
"Estimates suggest that over a span of a few years a shark may grow tens of thousands of teeth."
Yeah, did you ever read Little Red Riding Hood? ALL THE BETTER TO EAT YOU WITH, MOTHERFUCKER.
"Despite the common myth that sharks are instinct-driven "eating machines", recent studies have indicated that many species possess powerful problem-solving skills, social complexity and curiosity."
WHAT fucking myth!? They are driven by the instinct to eat!. AS ARE A MULTITUDE OF LIFEFORMS!!!! For fuck's sake!!
----------------------
Right, it's getting too sweary and idiotic in here for me, so I'm going to bow out and go to lunch.
Also, in response to questions about my Most Hated No.1 - Yes, I did consider The French, but deemed them an evolutionary cul-de-sac and ultimately harmless, whereas anyone with two brain cells to rub together can see that sharks remain a high-risk threat to international welfare.
Wednesday 2 July 2008
"Blues suck!"
So with my upcoming net fix and the release of SPORE in just a few months, it occurred to me that the Carling Festival (Reading) is also coming up. How the hell am I going to afford that? Apparently we, by which I mean several people whom I consider close acquaintances if not friends, are heading down on the Wednesday to get drunk in the queue for tickets. This plan has been circulated around the group, and I for one fully expect it to go as swimmingly as all of our other big group plans, i.e., only two or three of us actually go through with it while the others have excuses not to, thereby making the remainder somewhat bitter about the whole thing. I could be on either side of that divide. Hopefully the latter. At least I'll get to go to Reading this year. It'll be my eight year in a row!
Also: Cubecraft [dot] com. DO IT. DO IT NAO.
I've already printed out a Star Wars Imperial Stormtrooper and a full-colour Iron Man to sit on my desk at work. I have a horrible feeling that most of the others (Dr. Manhattan! DR. BLOODY MANHATTAN! I bet most of you don't even know who he is!) will be joining them at some stage.
Not the Master Chief one though.
Fuck Master Chief. FUCK 'IM UP HIS ASS.
Love, Odsox.
Also: Cubecraft [dot] com. DO IT. DO IT NAO.
I've already printed out a Star Wars Imperial Stormtrooper and a full-colour Iron Man to sit on my desk at work. I have a horrible feeling that most of the others (Dr. Manhattan! DR. BLOODY MANHATTAN! I bet most of you don't even know who he is!) will be joining them at some stage.
Not the Master Chief one though.
Fuck Master Chief. FUCK 'IM UP HIS ASS.
Love, Odsox.
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Tuesday 1 July 2008
"I just called.. to say.."
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Manic laughter = epic win.
Right, first off - I are has a job. It's good, I'll be given my official start date soon, and then it's monthly pay and desperate rebudgeting for a few weeks.
Now on to the more important news (meaning something I WANT rather than something I need) -
I've just had the most awesome news from Virgin Media. I paid out for a new net connection (plus home phone and t.v. package - winner) just last Friday, and while I requested the 6th of July as an installation date, it turned out they decided to lumber me with the 8th of July instead, which is a Tuesday.
Now, for those slackers among you, most people WORK Tuesdays, especially between 08:00 and 13:00, which is when they'd scheduled my installation for. So I sucked up my courage and asked my manager if I could have the morning off. Sadly, I knew this approach was doomed from the start as I'd gotten a sneaky peek at our holiday rota earlier on. If I had been allowed the morning off it would have left our new fish on her own, which would have been incredibly out of line, even for someone as selfish as me.
So I made the call. You know, the inevitable call that lasts for half an hour during your lunchbreak when you could be doing something useful, like sitting down.
Except it didn't take half an hour. It took ten minutes. I got through to some shock-horror COMPETENT advisors, who after hearing my work hours suggested Saturday as an installation date.
THIS SATURDAY. Between 08:00 and 13:00. Andwaitforit!
...they even told the installation team to call me beforehand to make sure that it was okay!
How awesome is that? Now I'm going to eat my mini cheddars, scoff my coronation chicken sandwich and reflect upon all the horrible things that are likely to happen to me to counterbalance this run of good luck!
I hope no hot girls die..
Love, Odsox
Manic laughter = epic win.
Right, first off - I are has a job. It's good, I'll be given my official start date soon, and then it's monthly pay and desperate rebudgeting for a few weeks.
Now on to the more important news (meaning something I WANT rather than something I need) -
I've just had the most awesome news from Virgin Media. I paid out for a new net connection (plus home phone and t.v. package - winner) just last Friday, and while I requested the 6th of July as an installation date, it turned out they decided to lumber me with the 8th of July instead, which is a Tuesday.
Now, for those slackers among you, most people WORK Tuesdays, especially between 08:00 and 13:00, which is when they'd scheduled my installation for. So I sucked up my courage and asked my manager if I could have the morning off. Sadly, I knew this approach was doomed from the start as I'd gotten a sneaky peek at our holiday rota earlier on. If I had been allowed the morning off it would have left our new fish on her own, which would have been incredibly out of line, even for someone as selfish as me.
So I made the call. You know, the inevitable call that lasts for half an hour during your lunchbreak when you could be doing something useful, like sitting down.
Except it didn't take half an hour. It took ten minutes. I got through to some shock-horror COMPETENT advisors, who after hearing my work hours suggested Saturday as an installation date.
THIS SATURDAY. Between 08:00 and 13:00. Andwaitforit!
...they even told the installation team to call me beforehand to make sure that it was okay!
How awesome is that? Now I'm going to eat my mini cheddars, scoff my coronation chicken sandwich and reflect upon all the horrible things that are likely to happen to me to counterbalance this run of good luck!
I hope no hot girls die..
Love, Odsox
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