3,386 Forum Posts by "BrianEtrius"
Did they not see what happened with Prop 8? IF it does pass (which it might, Indiana's much more socially conservative than California) and IF it gets signed into law (both HUGE IFs) then they're still going to have to defend it in court, which means another good 2-3 years of trials and appeals until it reaches the Supreme Court.
Do they really want to go through all of that hassle?
Pokemon Snap with Call of Duty.
You get to play as a war correspondent and take pictures of pokemon next to corpses.
Carnival Part 2
Well, Hank, you've found yourself in a real dozy. You've obviously got some vast military training, not to mention paramedic skills. You've been fighting to quite some time now, but you still can't remember a thing. You've got a guy named JC after you, and your clothes are all stained with blood. Have I told you Hank that you're stuck in a facility with no way out so far? Yeah Hank, this sure sounds like a grand old time. How are you going to get out of this one? What do you got?
Nothing. That's what I got. Nothing. Absolutely bloody nothing. Hell, it's nothing with a capital N. Well, let's at least see what waits on the end of another door. More zombie-like creatures, but this time, holding guns similar to the ones I found earlier. A few gunshots later and I'm in another room with more of these bastards. More corpses drop to the floor. The fight begins to feel endless. How long will this go on? Don't I know anything else besides this?
Something reflects in one room. It's a mirror. I take a deep breath and see what horrors await when I look at the reflection. A man smiles back at me with a grin spanning from ear to ear. Brown hair and a white robe fill out the rest of the picture. It's somewhat creepy. The man begins to point and laugh. Why is he laughing? Is he laughing at me? Enough of this Hank, I'm leaving. This place gives me the buggers.
Finally I reach what looks like an armory. Various modern weaponry from across the global fill the walls. I start taking rifles off the rack to the left of me and check them to see if they're in working condition. After taking a few minutes to do so, I conclude that all of these bad boys are in perfect condition, almost as if they had just come off the line. Now I have to make a hard decision of which one to choose.....
Well Hank, do you think a grenade launcher would do? No, in cramped quarters like this, the explosion could kill me due to the proximity, not to mention the highly likely lethal backlash. If close quarters then, how about a shotgun Hank? There's a nice sawn off double-barreled 12 gauge to your upper right. No, that won't do; that's got a much slower reload time than the others, plus the fact there's only 2 rounds. That means a lot of reloading, something that I won't have time for. Okay hotshot, well then how about a nice German Heckler & Koch G3, chambered in the ever popular 7.62x51mm NATO? Well, with that powerful of a round, I wouldn't say no, but the only problem is the weapon's too long. How am I supposed to clear corners with something the size of a didgeridoo? Well then what about-SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!
The adrenaline that has building up then entire time finally erupts. My hands, despite earlier in the midst of combat were rock steady as I saw blood and gore and guts fly all over the place, begin to tremble and then shake uncontrollably. I collapse onto the floor, my eyes fling wide open and then slowly close, my consciousness slowly fading away, not knowing what will happen if I do wake up........
My head's pounding like a drummer on speed when I finally wake up. Slowly my vision comes back, blurred red by something. It takes me a minute to realize what it is: blood. I wipe some off my goggles (How did I get these?) and take a look at it. This blood, despite its abundance, is not mine, thank God. Whoever it is, though, must be in bad shape. My left hand feels heavy; I lift it up to find a Beretta Inox 92 in it. My brains starts to release information at a rapid pace about said weapon: Beretta 92 is made in Italy, designated as the M9 pistol for the US armed forces, chambered in 9x19mm Luger, 15 rounds to a magazine plus one in the chamber, manual safety. How did I know all of that? Wait, I've always known that.
I've done this before, maybe even a million times before. It never ends. Time becomes nonexistent. The amount of times I've gone through the cycle is indescribable; I don't know what I'm fighting for anymore besides survival. My hands have been permanently bloodied. Any sane person would not be able to survive here. Yet here am I. Just a man trapped in a labyrinth against his will (rather, what he thinks is his will). Every step brings me closer to the beginning. The snake eats himself. A circle never ends. All we do is go around and around like a carrousel......
I see him in my dreams. JC, dancing, smiling with his maniac smile as he resurrects the zombies I work so tirelessly to kill. He watches me run threw his rat maze, baiting each end with hope, the hope of leaving this forsaken hellhole. I see that door, the door to the outside that I've wanted so badly. It's always almost in my grasp; it's just a few more steps out of this nightmare........
This isn't a nightmare. This is madness.
"totus intus mens"
Carnival Part 1
My head's pounding like a drummer on speed when I finally wake up. Slowly my vision comes back, blurred red by something. It takes me a minute to realize what it is: blood. I wipe some off my goggles (How did I get these?) and take a look at it. This blood, despite its abundance, is not mine, thank God. Whoever it is, though, must be in bad shape. My left hand feels heavy; I lift it up to find a Beretta Inox 92 in it. My brains starts to release information at a rapid pace about said weapon: the Beretta 92 is made in Italy, designated as the M9 pistol for the US armed forces, chambered in 9x19mm Luger, 15 rounds to a magazine plus one in the chamber, manual safety. How did I know all of that?
With the impulse of information comes the realization of the pain my body's in; it takes me a few minutes to comprehension the amount of soreness my body's going through. Whatever I just did, it must have been hell to put me in enough pain like this. With this in mine I gingerly get up, trying to avoid causing more pain. I'm wearing a black scarf, turtleneck and pants, all splattered with blood. I try to get some of it out but it's already dried, so I must have gotten it stained awhile ago.
I check the Beretta's load. I got one in the chamber and 6 left in reserve. I also find another spare magazine, filled with another 15 bullets, in my pocket. I hope I don't have to use it. I take the time to swap out the half empty (or is it half full?) magazine for the full one, keeping the one in the chamber. Checking the safety, I find that it's off which is not a surprise seeing how the original magazine was nearly depleted. However, there are no shells nearby, so if I was in a firefight, it wasn't here.
The lights above begin to flicker off and on, revealing the surroundings: it seems I'm in some sort of facility, but all of the walls are concrete. Besides the columns in the room there's nothing else which concerns me greatly. It's almost like this place was made for gunplay, so I keep my handgun at the ready for some more, just in case something decides to attack me for what could be the second time.
I creep across the room to the doorway, gun aimed at the opening. Kicking open the door, I'm surprised to find a slaughterhouse on the other side. Corpses litter the floor of the room that was similar to the previous one. Blood is stained all over the walls. The color matches the stuff on my goggles; this must be the source of it. I check the corpses to find shells scattered about; some match my own gun. Each body is riddled with bullets, some placed with remarkable accuracy: one to the sternum, another in the femoral artery, etc. Did I really do all of this? And why do I know so much about human anatomy?
Other guns lay about the room next to their former owners. I pick up one, a Glock 17, when another rush of information surges through my brain: 17 rounds, 9x19mm Luger, unique trigger safety/hammer, Austrian manufacture. Wait, a 9x19 mm Luger round? That's the same as my other gun. I take out the spare bullets from the Glock and add them to my half empty magazine, refilling it up to full capacity. I also take the spare bullets, just in case I need to refill the magazines later again. Why do I know so much about this weaponry? Do I have military background?
Something groans behind me, causing my heart to jump. I whip around, looking for the source of the sound. Nothing living made that noise. There's no one else here, except me and the cadavers. Where did that noise come from? I ready my gun, just in case. The bodies don't move when I kick them. I must be imagining the sound then. Unless, of course......
A figure darts into the darkness behind me. Spinning around, I only catch the owner's shadow. I place my finger on the trigger and take aim. I creep slowly toward said darkness, ready to shoot at whatever may lie there. My heart races as the moment for violence draws closer. The safety's off, so all I got to do is pull the trigger.......
Nothing's there. Wait, what? There's nothing behind this pillar? That can't be right. I know I saw something move back here. That can't be. You got to be kidding me. There's nothing here-
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" a voice screams behind me.
"What the fuck?!" I think but for some reason don't yell, turning quickly and wondering what the hell it is, but more importantly, trying to save my own ass. I fire 3 rounds point blank into its head before it falls down; its brains splattered over the wall. It's one of the corpses from before. How the hell did this happen? And more importantly, why didn't this guy stay dead? Is this some sort of a prank? Or is this an honest to God zombie? What the fuck is going on?
The other corpses start to groan too and slowly stagger to their feet. However, my trigger finger is faster and I give each one a nice present smack dab in the middle of their skull. For precaution I shoot them again while the cadavers lay on the floor. Yet, despite this excitement, I'm calm. The adrenaline rush one would normally expect from such actions is nonexistent in my body. What kind of person am I that this rush doesn't happen? How long have I been doing these deeds?
I finally notice another door on the other side of the large room, so again I cautiously approach the door, waiting for zombies or whatever the hell might come out. To my surprise, the next room (which looks suspiciously like the other two) contains nobody else. However, a disturbing message is written on the wall. It looks like it was written in the blood of some of those zombies I killed earlier. I read it out loud to myself to make sure I still remember what the sound of a human voice is. "Hank: Pay me for what you've done-JC". Hank. Is that my name? It sure sounds better than "psychopathic mass murderer". Hank. I could get used to that. I think I'll be Hank from now on.
And Plawlenty drops out. Gee, not even as much as a fight.
If the straw polls mean anything for other candidates, it means more than not Newt (2%), Cain(9%), and Santorum (10%) are out. For them to make a strong enough impact on the national level they would of had to reach even third to make a difference, otherwise they'll get eaten alive at New Hampshire.
Pawlenty and Perry should be interesting. With Pawlenty coming in third he could have a shot at the nod, but he has to make a huge splash in New Hampshire. Same with Perry and Paul, but for some reason I see that Perry has much more to prove than Paul.
Sadly for Huntsman, as Heidi Klum loves to say, "Auf Wiedersehen". He had to win it big here to make a difference, and that's not the case. Sorry chap, I might of voted for you, but it's not likely to happen.
Still, even with this win, Romney is the candidate to beat. It's nothing against Bachmann, but nationally that's how the ball rolls.
At 8/11/11 04:47 PM, EnactJudo wrote: honestly, one hundred dollars in store credit isn't enough to entice someone with enough skill to actually make it work into writing something worthwhile. I feel bad for all the unpaid volunteer judges who have to wade through pages of poorly written garbage
If you're writing for the sake of cash, you're in the wrong fucking business buddy. Besides, if you don't like it, don't write about it. No one's holding you at gunpoint to participate in this contest.
Oh, yeah, Animal Crossing. The ending sucked.
Wait a minute.....
I was honestly disappointed with almost all of the Advance Wars endings. All of them were like, "Okay, big war, we won, whatevers". C'mon, let's see some more emotion to them, considering you spend like 1000 hours on the campaign......
Hungary, Vas County, Taplanszentkereszt, Current Day
It's a little after midnight in the small Hungarian town, and only now have I noticed that I'm completely alone. The late night drunks have finally gotten off the street and have wandered to their various resting spots for the night. The church bells ring once, and my butt's been aching since 11.
I'm sitting on the church's steps, chain smoking. All I can think of now is how late the bastard is.
A cat shrieks, piercing the silence. A dog's barking follows up, but those are the only noises remaining. At 1:30 the streetlamps shut off, leaving my burning embers as one of the few light sources left on the block. I glance at my watch again and start tapping my foot impatiently.
The church door behind me creeks open. In a hushed tone a raspy voice calls out, "I've been waiting Louis."
"About fucking time," I respond, walking into the church. The nave is still dark and my lit cigarette does little to illuminate the empty building.
"Shall we turn on the lights?" a distinctive Welsh voice asks.
"I see no reason why we have to stand in the fucking dark," I answer. The voice snaps his fingers and the candles in the church are lit. "Nice trick, but next time, I can do it," I direct to the man standing at the podium. He's wearing a white suit (God forbid) with a turquoise t-shirt underneath with matching white loafers. "Hey Belph, we're in Hungary, not fucking Miami."
"You know I like that show. Has it gone off air already?"
"Jesus Christ, how long has it been? The 80s were 30 years ago."
"Seriously? What happened to them?"
"Well, one got arrested for groping in public, and the other tried to be a musician and failed."
"Aw man."
"They made a movie though."
"Really? Was it good?"
"Horrible. It was like watching Die Hard, but in Miami."
"Shit."
"Yes it was."
"You miss a lot going to every single Earth in existence."
"I can tell. But let's get down to business. What did you find?"
"Enough to put even Satan in a nut hold. Turns out some of the planets are starting to decay."
"That's nothing new. We've always had a bunch of those due to God knows what, from nuclear warfare to Al Gore not being born. How is this different?"
"That's the point. It is different. The histories of these Earths are spiraling far faster that Azrail can predict."
"That ain't good."
"You're telling me. When Azrail starts not getting that shit right we got major fucking consequences man. We're not talking about that Great Flood shit, but more like another full on fucking war."
"Oh Christ. Not that shit again."
"Kind of makes you wonder if He made it so sometimes Azrail gets it wrong."
"No. That wouldn't be. Azrail is the Scribe. If the Scribe is wrong, than He's wrong, and He can't be wrong. Otherwise, the entire universe goes caput."
"I know that. Still, it doesn't make sense."
"Well, keep me updated. I'll pass on the word to the others."
"Oh yeah, I looked into that thing that you wanted me to look into."
"And?"
"You wouldn't be happy."
"Tell me anyways."
"I did. You wouldn't be happy in that dimension."
"Interesting."
"Heh, not like you aren't in this one."
"Shut up. Go back and do some more recon you twerp."
"At your command." With that, Belphegor bows and disappears. I clench my fist and the winds blows out the candles. The embers of my cigarette still burn slowly. I close the church door behind me as I leave. I hope the pastor doesn't mind the ashes.
I think Pokemon jumped the shark with Ruby and Sapphire. I enjoy the remakes, but they're seriously running out of ideas.
Halo: Reach was a great way to end the series. I have no problem with it, with the except that they took out the SMG.
Halo: ODST has the best characters of the entire series. Buck is badass. That is all.
I don't get the allure of Call of Duty, despite playing through both MWs and Black Ops.
Advance Wars and Fire Emblem games are really great, but I've never finished a single one.
Captain Falcon is not overrated. For that matter, there needs to be more F-Zero games. I won't play
racing games otherwise.
However, Star Fox is incredibly overrated. I don't get why they're liked so much. I do like Slippy though.
I enjoyed Guitar Hero 1 and 2.
Gamecube was much better than the PS2. Nintendo just didn't know how to market it as such.
Killer7 is much more thought-provoking than Metal Gear.
I want a real, honest to God, awesome Castlevania movie.
Yoshi's Island for N64 is a great game.
Speaking of which, Melee is the best of the Smash Bros. trilogy.
Uncharted would do so much better if they ported it to the 360. Same with Metal Gear 4. I'm not going to shell out 400 bucks for another overpriced Sony product.
LA Noire, because you never had the opportunity to shoot Roy Earle.
At 8/4/11 12:42 AM, starwarsjunkie wrote: What are we looking at for word limits and such? 5000 seems to be the default...
I think that's fairly safe to assume, but if you can crank out a well written piece more than that, more power to you.
Am I the last guy on the planet that thinks that tie clasps* are cool?
:* Different than a tie bar, tie clasp wraps around the entire tie, resulting in a much firmer hold on your tie.
Noir Madness? That could definitely work......
To the Chandler library! AWAY!
For baseball, EA Sport's MVP Baseball 2005. Not only was the game's controls easy to pick up (2K Sports is a huge offender in this category) but there was the sabermetric aspect to the game as well, who do you play in terms of numbers, etc. That and the fact that Manager and Owner mode was hugely deep to the point where it nearly played like an RPG. That's right, a sports game as an RPG. That's pretty awesome.
At 8/1/11 02:13 PM, BrianEtrius wrote: Level 31.
Wait for it......
10,000 EXP.
Funny how that works, no?
Firing Range, HO, Present Day
I really like the new Marine M-45 MEUSOC that they have. They finally fixed the recoil issue that they had with the original M1911A1, not to mention a much better grip and tighter sights. My only complaint is that they still haven't made the magazine bigger; 7 rounds (not counting the one in the chamber) isn't a lot to play with. Still, this pistol was made to emergency situations for infantry, so if 7 rounds are good enough for Marines then it's good enough for me. It worst comes to worst I can always load an aftermarket extended magazine for personal use.
I just wish someone would have realized the potential of Mateba's Model 6 Unica, or the Autorevolver. This Italian revolver is a rare example of a semi automatic revolver. The only other notable example of such a pistol is the British Webley-Fosbery, chambered in .455 Webley. You might have seen this unique gun in The Maltese Falcon, but Bogie misidentifies it as a .45 eight shot. Regardless, the Mateba Autorevolver is a prime example of pure mayhem. Chambered in the always powerful .357 magnum, the Mateba, produced only for 8 years, has a unique firing system that once fires cocks back the hammer for the next shoot. This effectively makes this a semi-automatic, but the down side is the 6 shots. Another interesting design worth mentioning is the fact that the barrel is the lower part of the revolver's cylinder, making recoil less of a bitch.
My current favorite gun though is a modified Smith and Wesson Schofield, chambered for the Dirty Harry classic .44 magnum. I changed the cartridge after I realized no one carried .44 Russian any more, that and the fact the .44 magnum has much better range and firepower. The Schofield is a prime example of a top break revolver, so when I open the gun to reload the barrel the cylinder tips forward. The icing on the cake is that the spent shells eject automatically, so with a speed loader I can lay down a lot of firepower in a short amount of time. The scope mount on top helps improve my accuracy when I want to be precise. The only down side is that sometimes the shells don't eject properly, causing major jam issues. Still, for a gun that was designed over a century ago, it works pretty well.
However, my real pride and joy are my Glock 18s, proof that God loves Austrians. These machine pistols are chambered in the ever popular 9x19 mm, so ammunition is forever present. What sets apart these pistols is their secondary fire rate, fully automatic in the size of a pistol. The estimated rate is about 1200 rounds per minute, but more often than not you run dry before such a number is reached. For clearing out crowds or a small army these handguns are your choice. Adding to the already awesome fire rate is the versatility of the weapon: not only does it contain 2 firing modes but the pistol accepts a wide variety of different magazine sizes. The semi-automatic sibling of the Glock 18, the Glock 17 that's also chambered in 9x19 mm, uses a 17 round magazine, which when used with the Glock 18 is flush with the butt. This makes distinguishing the two guns nearly impossible, a handy advantage when dealing with well trained security forces. Furthermore, the standard magazine size is 33 rounds, so when firing in semi automatic mode the magazine lasts you a long time. The only downside to this magnificent weapon is the fact that it's chambered in 9x19mm. The round lacks enough kinetic energy to penetrate even the most basic of Kevlar vests, so the guns are best used in crowded urban areas where such equipment is not easily available.
My phone rings. It's time to go do another job. Maybe for once I won't have to deal with an angel prick.
Rome, 53 AD
As I walk past the Roman Guard, I pause, staring at one solider's spear. I bark at him in Latin, asking "Why is your spear bloodied?"
"I had to make sure he was dead sir. I didn't want any undead plaguing the city," the solider replies.
"What's your name Roman?"
"Longinus sir, I sort of felt bad for the guy."
"Well Longinus, I'm going to have to take your spear away from you. A dirty spear does not bode well with commanders. You can get a new one from the armory. In the meantime, I'll hold on to this one." Longinus presents his spear, which I take.
With the weapon in one hand, I depart, as my mission is over. Now to make sure no one gets their grubby little hands on this very dangerous holy weapon.......
Abandoned Alleyway, NYC, Present Day
"Who is it Murph?" I ask, gun aimed at the man's head. Murphy continues to whimper, even after I've told him to shut up at least 5 times already. I kick him hard in the stomach and ask the question again. "Who is it Murph? Who did it?" The shadows of the building hide whatever I might do next.
"Come on Ryan, you know I don't know! The force was 9 years ago! Any guy I knew then is either high ranking or long gone! I'm sorry Ryan, but I don't know who killed her!"
"Bullshit Murph. And to think I thought cops were supposed to be good at lying. You worked that IA case, you know who did it!" In a brief moment of rage, I cock the hammer of the suppressed weapon. "Stop lying to me!"
"Jesus Christ Ryan, I told you everything! I don't know anything else! I'm telling you, I'm sorry!"
"Sorry for what Murph? Sorry for letting her die while you did nothing as you investigated it?
Sorry for letting the rest of the force think I did it when you knew perfectly well that job wasn't my style? Sorry for trying to cover your ass after you sold me out to the mob? Which is it Murph? Please, tell me, then I might make this quicker."
"Okay, okay, there is one more thing, something I've never told anyone, not even my wife......the day right before I submitted the case file, a fed came in to look at the file. He came straight into my office too, bypassing all the security because of his badge. He told me he wanted to take a look at the file in private, seeing how it was related to a federal case or something........afterwards, he disappeared. The file didn't change or nothing, but there was something off about it. I never figured it out. I submitted the day after, and the rest, well, you know what happened."
"Who was this fed Murph? Tell me!"
"He was FBI. Said his name was Special Agent Urbino, can you believe that? I could never get a hold of the bastard afterwards."
"Urbino, I know that name from somewhere....."
"What's that?"
"Shut up. You're lucky this gun isn't loaded."
"What?!"
"Here, take it." I toss him the empty gun and a spare magazine. "Use it as self defense. God knows what's going to happen to you, and for once it's not going to be me. Shoot me if you'd like, but know this: to get to you I had to go through a lot of people who also want you dead Murph. Now be a good boy scout and disappear again, otherwise, I will find you again, and I will kill you."
"Oh Jesus, you talked with them, didn't you? You talked to them about my debts? Oh dear Christ....."
"Don't even bother trying to track me through the serial number on the gun. That SIG-Sauser P225 was stolen from a Swiss police station 6 months ago. If anything, you'd raise some eyebrows."
"Why now Ryan? Why have you waited all this time?"
"Waited? You think I've waited? God, you are more clueless than you look. You don't want to know how long I've be after this."
"I know you loved her Ryan, but you've got to let it go."
"You know better than that Murph; I can't let anything go."
"That'll kill you one day Ryan, you do know that, right?"
"It already has Murph."
"You're just going to leave me here then?"
"Since when have I done anything different?" I walk out of the dark ally, feeling somewhat satisfied and equally confused. Soon I will find out, and this time, no one will stop me.
Okay, I lied. I like writing Ryan Louis Cipher. It's a fun character. So here's some short stories that's been cobbled together.
Sid's Bar-Present Day
It's one of those clubs, the kind where those unsavory hipster types like to join together. The combination of the chanting music and the flashing lights makes me sick. My tie's already halfway down my shirt and if the music keeps playing it's going to go down even further. Not exactly my idea of a meeting place, but I can't complain. After all, Sid owns the place and agreed to talk to me; a rarity as he hates to choose sides. I down another yogurt-alcohol mixture (my eight of the night which curiously makes me hungrier) and watch more dancers go by.
It was an odd and ironic place to find too. Who knew Nirvana was in Seattle? Certainly Kurt knew, but look where he's at now. Still, it was uncomfortable having a 300 pound bouncer with huge piercings coming out of his nose pat you down. Not like you even bring in a weapon here anyways; the only harm you can do is to yourself. With that in mind I light up another cigarette, being one of the few of the many smokers in the place smoking tobacco.
After what feels like an eternity and some lame self-discovery thinking (I swear to God he does this on purpose) finally Sid opens the door to his private chamber and gestures to me to come in. As I do a flock of young women come out, causing me to raise an eyebrow as I shut the door behind me. "What?" Sid asks, almost in a humorous yet nervous tone.
"I thought you were supposed to refrain from desire."
"I was. I was helping them meditate properly."
"Right. Whatever Prince."
"Shut up Morning Star. I only agreed to talk to you because you're the only one who has played for both sides."
"Basically, you're talking to me because it doesn't put your ass in the line of fire. Yeah, that sounds like pretty good logic to me."
"Hey, watch it. I may seem peaceful but I can still get angry."
"What, are you going to get one of your followers to barbeque himself again? Yeah, that's really scary."
"Fuck you, you self righteous son of a bitch."
"Yeah yeah. It's good to see you again Sid."
"You too Louis. Come, take a seat." He offers a pillow on the other side of the table where I sit down on. Sid sits down also, offering tea. I decline, putting out my cigarette in the ashtray he's so kindly provided. "So, what seems to be the problem Louis?" he asks.
"There's been some.....interesting developments lately. I wanted your take on them."
"Which developments my friend?"
"Well, the Upper Realm seems......more active. Almost as if they were planning something big. I'm not sure myself, but neither me nor Mammon could get anywhere near their site. I was wondering if you've felt it during one of your sessions."
"Hm, now that you've mentioned it, the other day I did feel something out of the ordinary. It was almost like there was a new kind of suffering in the world, but it was a joyful suffering. Some souls came to see me about it, as they had lost their path in this new twilight. They're in deep rest now, inside the temple. They can't answer questions. I'm sorry Louis, but that's all I can do to help you at the moment."
"That's fine. I just wanted your take on this. Thank you for your time."
"No Louis, thank you. I was wondering what caused this."
"Yeah, being the middle man, you get left out sometimes. I know the feeling. Well, enjoy your, what is it now, 7th life? Yeah, that's right. Have fun."
"May you ease your suffering with your path."
"Sorry Sid, but my path has always been full of suffering." With those final words, I depart.
Trench in France, 1917
Poor bastards. Even though this was my doing (hey, no assassination like a political assassination) these guys don't deserve this kind of death. There are few medics, and most who are shot die slowly. The conditions here are brutal, far from what any army should expect their soldiers to live through. Compared to the endless sand, this is hell. The worst part of this is that none of these poor guys have anything to look forward to back home.
The faces that I past (at least, the ones that are still alive) are gloomed. The thousand mile stare that I've grown accustomed to seeing seems like a million miles. I'm only here to as a fake CO to order a reckless charge into enemy territory, a tactic that's sure to kill the rest of the squadron.
The mud begins to cake on my boots and my trench coat. Soldiers begin to pray to their respective gods once I give the order to the lieutenant in charge. "But Captain Bäumer," the young officer protests, "What about our position?"
"There is another battalion that is making its way up to your coordinates," I lie, trying to reassure the poor man. "You will have the artillery in the back. You will be covered."
The lieutenant takes off his caked hat and tries to run his hand through his messy, unkempt hair. I offer him a cigarette, which he accepts without hesitation. "This can make or break a green officer like you," I continue, my gut slowly twisting itself into more of a knot. "Be successful, and I'll personally recommend you for promotion."
After a long drag the officer finally accepts his fate and gathers his men. After a small prep talk that seems to do little, the group rises out from the trench and begins to charge toward Allied lines about 500 yards in front of them. As they leave I survey the items they've left behind, wondering if others will ever wonder how significant these items were.
Feeling somewhat guilty, I pick up a Madsen machine gun one of the gunners left behind. I load a 40 round magazine in and cock back the charging handle. Aiming toward the squad, I begin firing, making sure all the shots are fatal, sparing the men from the worse fate: a misplaced artillery strike. After the men are all killed the artillery shells start to rain overhead, vaporizing the fresh corpses. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I'll have to drink a full bottle of scotch to get it out tonight.
Level 31.
Wait for it......
At 7/20/11 09:24 AM, Panzerknacker wrote: killer7 is pretty dark, when it's not outright weird.
Agreed. Scenes like this (NSFW) is the reason the game was rated M, but at the same time, it shows the lack of humanity so many characters have.
Beyond Good and Evil.
Or at least a remake for the Wii. It still proves there is at least some creativity left in the world.
Anyone notice the Joker's smile and the Superman logo on the left building besides me?
I'm for it since it'll make the realize they'd need a massive tax hike to fund such a plan.
It's always about the money.
Canvasing for political campaigns. Even when people agree you still pretty much have to beg for donations.
Walk into Yankee Stadium with a Red Sox hat.
American Psycho, by Bret Ellis.
Not only is it a great story (ignore the movie version) but there are loads of techniques that can help inspire your writing even further, especially with an unreliable narrator.
The Nick Adams Stories, by Ernest Hemingway.
You can't talk about writing without mentioning Hemingway, for good reason. Instead of choosing one of his more famous novels, I like this collection of short stories that focus around a semi-autobiographical character. You can certainly see much of Hemingway's well known "Iceburg" technique, and many others.
The Maltese Falcon, by Dashell Hammett.
It's a classic. C'mon.
Get Shorty, by Elmore Leonard.
Instead of choosing Leonard's more classic Western novels, I'm going to go with this mobster tale. There's a reason why Leonard's a damn fine writer, and this book is proof.
At 7/6/11 04:41 PM, DeftAndEvil wrote: I'm sitting down and forcing myself to finish my rough draft before passing it on to some regulars. If anybody wants to exchange stories for proofreading/editing, I'll be happy to read what you've written.
Sure, drop me a line. I'll take a lookie-loo.
Congrats to them. I was wondering when there was going to be fresh meat.......
At 7/3/11 01:48 PM, tigerkitty wrote: Yeah, there's really a whole can of worms that's opened when trying to tackle a story in second person perspective. It's most of the time just not worth it and I honestly feel that many people find anything written in second person to be too awkward to read. It's so closely associated with choose you own adventure stories, that's to pull it out of the context into a "regular" book would be quite a feat.
But on the flip side, I've found that sometimes when you are in 1st Person you can dip into second person fairly easily. While you may not be addressing the reader as a character of the story, you are neither the less acknowledging that the reader exists. Examples would include such phrases like "You know," or "As you'll find out". However, like any sort of writing it depends on your style and your characters. Again, an example that could fit this particular situation would be an omnipotent-like character.
Huntsman I feel would be the strongest Republican candidate if he were to make it past the primaries. As a fairly liberal candidate on social issues, he could appeal to many moderates. The problem with the primaries? The exact same reason. He's not conservative enough. Plus the fact he worked under Obama makes himself hard to distance himself away. At this point I'm even wondering if he's campaigning for 2016, which would make a lot more sense.
I would pay more attention to Romney if he were to shut up about the Healthcare thing, and it's unfortunate too, because after all, Obamacare is really Romneycare 2.0. From a party standpoint though, he has to go after it because of the very obvious reason that it's Obama's plan. As Romney tries to paint himself more and more a conservative to get the nomination it's going to alienate moderates.
Ultimately I think the nod will go to Romney, as Republicans seem to give the nod to the second place finisher in the previous nominations. However, with the pool of nominations as is, it seems like many are testing the waters not for 2012 but for 2016. With that in mind I'll willing to put money that the Republican nomination for 2016 will be someone that's currently not running.
