Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

I have had this issue once. I was using chrome and swapped to firefox. Game save files were not present when using firefox and when I switched back to Chrome they were gone also.

Try a computer search for your game files as the computer may be automatically reading them from the wrong browser folder.

If that fails you could try manual searching by following these folder openings...

C - users - "name" - appdata - roaming - macromedia - flash player - shared objects.

Make sure you tick hidden files otherwise the folders will be invisible.

Once inside you need to navigate what site your games are saved to. I'm not sure which folder is Newgrounds.

Do you remember the genre category?

The pope thinks he's immortal.

Not perfect spheres sir...

Name it. It can be anything - but it must be a complete sphere.

Being greedy is wrong and evil.

Now where are MY COOKIES!?

Avoiding these threads is the hardest thing.

At 2/2/12 07:03 PM, Razz wrote:

At 2/2/12 06:29 PM, UpoqvoSAMMIovpoqU wrote: Firstly money does not buy women, not real women anyway.

Strippers, escorts, female "employees." If you have money, you can buy women. And yes, real women.

Cock teasers aren't real women - they're just human dolls.

Firstly money does not buy women, not real women anyway.

Money is a representation of power among weak minded people. In fact money is a clear indication of somebody's lack of inner strength. That way it is useful to me.

My show would be called "Yes Samuel".

It would be a debate show where everybody agreed with me.

My dad thinks this individual is funny.

I watched 3 mins of lazy town. It was more complicated than The Matrix.

I stopped gaining medals after a family member found bugs with them.

Are you looking for a specific game? If so give some more details as to the colour scheme, date you played it, music and sfx etc.

For my next year's resolution i'm going to wash that sticky yellow towel that's been hanging beside my chair for years.

I'm such a sexy badass gnome, i'm going to carve a naked statue of myself using gunpower.

I'd just like to report that a whole wave of submissions just hit the portal, but all are leading to the sad face error screen.

Do reality TV shows accurately represent real life, or are they twisted by picky editing or completely faked from the beginning?

With shows like the X factor, Britain & America's got talent, do you find it uncomfortable to see the amount of people who seem slightly insane?

Are these individuals a misrepresentation of society? Or are we just being honest with people?

Is it morally right to laugh at people who have bad voices or act, or do we laugh "with" them because they understand?

Are we bullying these individuals by selecting them due to their vulnerability?

Or is it just a piece of fun that is perfectly harmless for kids?

Sammi

Prime Minister Gordon Brown has proposed that one of our four nuclear submarines be taken out of service to save on money.

There will be no reduction in war heads.

Do you think, at this time, the world needs to start seriously considering a cautionary nuclear disarmament programme over the coming years, or should we scrap all the missiles completely?

Is Britain pretending to be a super power because it hides underneath the safety of North America?

Should Britain set an example by being the first to disarm?

And do you think that Britain will ever fire a missile without U.S consent?

Sammi

The next topic...

http://www.newgrounds.com/bbs/topic/1091 735

Good luck!

I am sure that the results will be announced publically soon. It would incredibly rude of gumOnShoe to PM winners privately.

However it has been almost two weeks and gumOnShoe has neither posted information on judging times nor officially confirmed that the deadline has been met.

The amount of effort made into the stories is superb. I honestly thought that there would be only a few entries. I am glad to see that people care about this competition and I hope I speak for everybody in that we all eagerly await judges comments and official results.

Sammi.

It is terrible for victim's families when a loved one is murdered or injured by a criminal.

But should we feel sympathy for the criminal's family too?

Do you believe that we should show concern to families when a member is convicted of a serious crime?
Or should we blame the family for the failure to make the individual a law abiding citizen?

Is there a general expectation of society that the responsibility of teaching standards of right and wrong hangs with the parents? Or should we put all the blame on the individual and show concern to their families?

If somebody in your family committed a serious crime, would you stand by them or disown them, and to what degree do you think families can cope once a member rejoins after a severe prison sentence.

Do you think capital punishment would make it easier or harder for the criminal's family?

Sammi

*Continues from third post*

(3,926 / 3,926)

Suddenly a car stops beside you. A voice calls you over. "Are you okay miss?" he asks. You stutter a slow reply... "Yes, erm..."

As you pluck up the courage to ask you look into his deeply serious but distracted eyes. Eventually you try to speak, but it comes out as a whimper... "Erm... I'm looking for the nearest hospital..."

"I know where that is," he says and offers you a ride in his black polished saloon. "Ermm... no thank you... I'll walk..." your instincts command you to finally say.

He insists but you begin walking again. After a few more blocks he appears again and inquires to know about you. He drives slowly, following your every step with a perfect cruising speed. You continue to walk very steadily, trying your hardest to ignore him. You notice a large sparkling tower down the end of an alleyway. You begin to feel excited when you notice an NHS sign and successfully remember what that means. As you begin to walk down the alleyway you hear the car engine stopping and its door opening.

"Hey, why aren't you answering me! Hey!" he asks. You press on through the dark alleyway noticing thin ladders leading to side entrances. The man begins to follow, his footsteps clearly faster than yours. You feel a sudden panic and begin to run, but with your degraded body you're barely able to stay up. As you traverse halfway down the alley he runs and grabs hold of you. His grip is so frighteningly strong you can't move even your fingers.

"Huh! Where do you think you're going bitch!" he demanded and threw you to the ground. Your fall is barely broken by a plastic drains pipe.

"What... what...? Uh... please... I just want to get there..." you explain. "Oh you will be going there," he warned. He falls onto your ribs and tears your mucky clothes off. You feel his knee pressing against your chest; your lungs struggling to gather breath. He finally strips you naked but you smile as your imagination conjures up the image of a young innocent girl losing her purity in your place. You lose such very little...

He brings himself to orgasm and leaves you to shake naked in the cold. You sigh in relief. But then a very still wind breezes around you. You look up and see a huge knife faintly reflecting a distant street light. You're too weak to even move as it comes hastily down to meet you and impales you with meteoritic force. He starts slowly, enjoying your mild weak screams as you stare down the remaining passage of death. He continues to stab at you so effortlessly; like needles when knitting. As your blood streams so slowly from your body your breath quickens then stalls. He finally stops and you stiffen up. It is wet all around you. He laughs at you and runs back up the ally. You watch him flee in his getaway vehicle. You make lots of effort to turn your head 180 degrees but although you succeed, this is your final accomplishment, the damage has been done.

The pain begins to die down as you become one with the cracked ground. In the silence you see in the distance a mother carrying her child down some steps. You begin to cry as your silent tears are a witness to the many millions of ghosts that have suffered just like you. You close your eyes and the entire rainbow of memories sweep through your mind. The very few moments of happiness in your life cuddle you in their friendly palms for your last few seconds, the last thought being what could have been. The wind around you makes way and your body is now fully lifeless, only a witness to the endless space and stars, your only true friends...

2:00 - 2:29

"Come on, oh come on, oh come on, oh come on, oh come on, admit it.
You are, a failure, an idiot, a waste, a tool, just leave us.
There will be, no home, no love, no cuddles, no point yeah.
You'll burn, you'll break, you'll fall, you'll rot, you'll die, just like them.
But hey, don't worry, not everybody, will forget, about you, oh baby.
So praise, the dreamers, who wish, the world, would not be, neglectful..."

Your story is of silence and noise; one that can never be heard or quietened, for the screams and whimpers of those lost are left for imagination to discover...

........................................
........................................
...........................

Author's Comments

The choice of song is unbiased. I looked around the audio portal for a while and choose this music purely on the grounds of compatibility and image. Although I think the music is highly listenable, it is not my favourite piece, however I feel there are sheer amounts of emotion that can be derived from its dirty roughness. I did not choose to enter this competition with prior intention to do a distressing story.

If you would like to narrate or review feel free to PM me at anytime. Also I particularly want to encourage people to PM if they are confused as to the meaning of any lines in the story as some are extremely poetic. I would be happy to provide an education.

Feel free to comment on my profile on this and another story, "Unspoken Blue", that was written for possible use in a collaboration.

I would like to alert all judges, reviewers and NG users that I will not be available to read or reply to personal messages or e-mails during the dates 24th July - 1st August GMT.

Sammi

*Continues from second post*

(3,171 / 3,926)

The midnight calamity had strained on for too long. The bridge looked comfortable enough to sleep in so you slither inside and convey your eyes to the deep blackness. You adrift immediately, effortlessly falling into the dank uncontrollable shadow of memory. The cellar where the endless rapes took place cave your subconscious in. You look to escape but your instincts are to stay and fulfil your function, for he, and her sometimes, would punish you for disobedience in unimaginable ways. You remember trying to explain it to people. You remember how they explained it to you. You remember the day that you decided that explanations were pointless. Only now you desire an explanation from god.

00:50 - 01:18

"This is your tale of fate and friction.
Covering you with heartless wasps yeah.
No use of begging because they hate you.
Don't try searching for the light ha!
Because you can't be sure where it is.
And bite the dust you shall oh baby.
It shall taste so fresh and homely.
You are not adult or child.
And you shall grow to become neither..."

The immense bust of a car horn pops you out of your sincere collapse. You slept for over half a day and again it was evening. Upon peaking from your nest the evening sun seemed almost welcoming.

You push yourself out of your little cave and brush off debris and wet leaves. You begin to follow the row of cars streaming for home; the glittering effect from the evening sun keeping you focused. You find it difficult to cross a busy junction and your impatience almost adjoins your shins to a motorbike.

About a mile on you hear high pitched cheering and banter. You walk by a secondary comprehensive. It hypnotises you. You stare uncontrollably at the kids wrestling and chasing each other, aware of the innocence they assume. As their parents begin to take them home you feel a huge burning sentiment. The sheer jealousy consumes your mannerisms and the entire world in your mind becomes inflamed by your desire to maim and slaughter. You sit and stare in an uncontrollable rage. Finally it snaps and you start to approach the school but you stop yourself from entering through the gate. Instead you raise a fake hand and wave goodbye.

The sun descends further. Kebabs shops fill and restaurants light up their visual attractions. The sniff of food sickens you and the crushing pain of starvation leaves a trail of bio in your wake. The roads are endless and straights are windy. You travel onwards, forever backwards.

You again feel greatly fatigued. You have had enough of this and you don't know where you are, or where to go. You think of the first possibility that comes into your stupid mind - a hospital. You decide that you might be able to get food if you flash your scrawny body around and claim an illness. So you begin to wonder in search of somebody to ask...
But everywhere you go seems barren. The few deserts of the city hold little human substance. The blank, oily industrial factories pollute your senses. Your views are so unattractive.

The sun settles behind a tall apartment in the furthest layer. As the lights switch on and off it makes your brain twitter and you gaze at it with the curiosity of a young puppy. You tread on in search of humanity but instead find nothing but pools of chewing gum failing to camouflage itself on the pavements.

You walk by a shop selling clocks. The swinging gongs and odd chimes make you feel dizzy. You notice that a funny looking clock face embedded in a skull has stopped...

*Continues on forth post*

*Continues from first post*

(2,553 / 3,926 words)

You soon reach the largest city of all. Here you hope to find a glimmer of hope and begin a new life. The midnight sky, occasionally haunted by shadowy clouds, watches your every ghostly move.

00:06-00:28

"So much becoming of fear and freedom.
Burning away at your body so blemished.
Wishing forever would instantly end yeah.
No use of thinking about tomorrow,
For the calamity of hope devolves you.
Your cries are calls for your confronting.
The sickening stare of others embitters you."

You enter the suburbs and the occasional sound of barking dogs frightens you. You sensibly choose streets with pathway lights that turn branches into bright brown glow sticks. The large city condominiums are totems in the distance, like pillars of god erecting beyond your belief. The streets remain quiet for a long time. In one house a large blue aura shines through the clean window and it mystifies you. You listen and hear chatter and music. You wander off remembering all the programmes you used to watch and that sudden fear of never seeing them anymore looms over you and wraps your body in a constricting blanket of despair.

You come closer to the city centre and neon lights begin to distort your sight; their glowing cosmos illuminating the world in a majesty of colours. Bar areas seem busy and loud music pumps out shaking the ground beneath you. You look up and notice what you initially thought was a large glittering fly chopping the air; its light remaining strong even amongst the rainbow streets.

You stop and hold yourself. You need to defecate and there is nowhere to go. You begin searching for a quiet dark back alley and eventually you find one. You close your eyes hoping the scent of your faeces does not attract anyone, or anything. You look around for something to clean yourself with but find nothing. You have no choice: you rip another piece of your coat and smear it with your impurities. You overcome the initial sogginess when you start walking again.

You think it is Saturday and guess that the huge spotlight trails in the sky must come from a city festival. You walk for two miles; the buildings getting taller and taller. You occasionally feel claustrophobic, especially as you tread down the brick layered public walkways. The remains of market stalls, retired from trade for the night, remain desolate as the wind blows on fabric and red tape. Along the walls graffiti of all talents call forth a deep yawn. The words seem friendly and familiar. You look under one of the stalls and find a dirty apple. You spit on it repeatedly and then take a vampire's bite. The juices explode in your mouth and water your eyes. You frantically look under every stall trying to find more but they are all desolate.

Holding on to your apple you leave the bazaar and continue inwards to the core of the city. You notice human rats dozing off like ambient attractions. A few pigeons can be seen digging at each other, trampling over a chip fork, contesting for the last bit of fish.

You continue to stroll unnoticeably to the angel beams in the sky. You finally reach a huge open area and very soon you become one with the crowd; anonymous once again, but for the better.

Your eyes adjust to the bright lights on stage. There are two celebrities chanting away, making jokes and playing prank games with the public. You look at them and you clench your first tightly. They make stereotypical jokes about the working class and ugly people. They get the audience to agree with their views. You're the only one not laughing and some begin to look at you; they laugh harder.

You run away from the crowd trying to hide the fact that you're scared, but your emotions are so fiery that it becomes extremely difficult. You look behind you and find no traces of that ghost train attraction but in doing so you trip over a magical obstacle that you should have seen. You fall, your weak puny hands not even being able to withstand you. You collapse on the side of your face and let your tongue play with a broken tooth. You try to scream in agony but fail to commit to the energy. There are very few people around and you believe that even if they saw you they wouldn't help. Everyone was a bystander, nobody cared. You pondered if it would be different if you were clean and pretty.

It takes so much effort for to return to your feet. Your tired and dehydrated self seems rock solid. Your golem-like stance makes you feel truly vulnerable.

You begin to move as each step feels robotic. The whole journey had been so draining but you still couldn't think of where to go or what to do now you had reached the most reliable place. All you are aware of is that you are of no use to anybody.

The wandering ghosts that shine off every glittering panel begin to take its toll. Your regular senses become intertwined and you feel dizzy. You feel more nauseated as you move further around the city; not knowing where to go. You wish you could just ask somebody for help but, like a young cat, you feel an overwhelming panic at any interaction. You feel so ashamed of yourself for not being able to realise that none of it is your fault. The slow crawling of fate climbs your back and for the first time you begin to feel truly alone. You feel like lying down, never to get up again, but you force yourself onwards. You seem to be going the wrong way as you turn down a dark avenue. A noise disturbs you and you look into the parallel cavern. It was only a cat falling off the recycling bins.

You stagger upon each step and like a drunken fool you begin to lose control of your face making odd gestures at the occasional person; however it is so dark that it is unlikely that they will notice, and you presume that they won't care. Instincts take over and you become a simple animal that longs for a habitat.

There are only parked cars down the avenue. The light bewilders you so much that you only look straight ahead into the darkest regions of the pavement. It becomes a game and you find a little bit of amusement in it. You look up for a moment and laugh at gravity.

It's been a long while since you ate the apple. You start to feel really hungry again and wonder if you should try knocking on doors. You forfeit the idea out of a fear of rejection so powerful that it could deter a winner of a lifetime supply of confectionary to claim his/her's prize.

You reach a busy intersection and walk across the road, with a little hope that a really fast car would hit you. You reach the other side unhurt and after a sigh of careless relief you walk down another quiet road. The sky looked slightly brighter now morn was breaking.

You have to stop and rest, so you slant your back on the edge of a bridge out of everyone's view. You stare at the water and even put your finger it; the warm feeling making you smile. For a moment you want to drown in it and go to heaven, but you begin to sip at it - the holy water resurrects you.Suddenly you feel a wet surge of liquid spurting from your vagina. It's been a long time since your last period. You don't care about it though and you simply raise the only layer of clothing blocking it from nature's soil and let the blood mark your territory.

*Continues on third post*

Official Entry - "Neglectful" - By UpoqvoSAMMIovpoqU

Music by NeglectfulSpawn

http://neglectfulspawn.newgrounds.com

*Authors Comments after the story*

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(1,236 / 3,926

You wake up twitching and aching. With great effort you lean to the side, cough up bile and let it ooze from your dry mouth. The morning breeze holds you and carries you to your feet. You stand hunched and round shouldered. You crush cans and cardboard boxes as your stagger gradually becomes a walk. Your tummy rumbles, but the remains from the party still digest inside you. It begins again with another desperate search.

Down a residential street you begin to wander. You become transfixed at the chequered skirts of a group of girls and beg for a fairy to send you back in time. You imagine for a moment the possibilities that could have been open to you as you stare down at the base of a tree. The bright stars from silver cars impair your vision. The lawnmower grinds your skull and shreds every sensor in your ears; your shaking hands barely able to grip them and drown it out. Patterns appear in fences while roads summon a million fluffy imagines; the white lines sometimes becoming a thick waxen grey.

You turn right onto the main road into town. As trucks quake past the fumes choke your confidence. Car horns alarm you and pelican crossings daze you. The tall city buildings stand as monsters; the reflections from the thousand windows dazzling. The whiff of burgers makes you scream inside; the rich clean businessmen scoffing them outside. You sit for a moment under a well placed tree and look up at its shield from the sun.

You raise your neck to look at the dozens of hotels and apartments fittings hundreds of individuals unlike you. Your neck cracks as your eyes try to scale the top of them. Some of them look down at you. You are an alien to them. Your clothes have become a part of your skin and they fear that they cannot fulfil their responsibility come the winter.

You ponder around the market square. People avoid you. Stalls become empty as you approach them. The vendors watch you suspiciously. You stop and stare at the cookie stall and as mother buys twinkling stars for their sons and daughters you begin to cry inside; the waterfall in your heart compressing your sanity; the pressure becoming intolerable.

You run away from the pain, retreating from the battlefield of this happy metropolis. The afternoon calls you to the wilderness. There is no lunchtime. There is no noon. You continue up and down community hills, past terraces and eventually farmhouses. You check everywhere for food; your eyes becoming that of a hawk. You find nothing and your sigh is heard by no one. You're so thirsty that you have no choice but to drink from a pond in a field which you optimistically perceive to be clean. You sip the muck and filth and gurgle the tepid water around your mouth. The refreshing sensation pulverises your sadness for a moment as you suppress the fear of illness. As you raise your head you notice the world around turning darker. You rush back onto the main road as you feel the low air pressure covering your oxygen with its moist palms.

Gradually the rain begins to pour down. You shudder and run for cover; each rain drop becoming a slowly heavier bombardment of stones and rocks. They crack and break your brittle bones turning your mind inside out. Finally you hide under a bus stop and lie down. You look around and then urinate, covering up somebody else's hard work. Lightning strikes nearby and roars a horrible tremor through the air and the vibration of the abyss makes your petite fingers tremble uncontrollably. It lasts forever; the echoes of Mephisto and Zeus pounding away at you. Their hate cast upon your innocent self; their mindless rage against your childhood purity, regressed to its fullest form with all the fears of loneliness chained to you. There is nobody to hug anymore; such cruelty for love to tease you.

The rain stops and the air freshens. You climb to your feet a little more effortlessly now you've rested and you take a slightly deeper breath and proceed along the country road. For miles there are dark green bushes barricading you in. The wind picks up and the grassy sidewalk becomes narrower and thicker. It becomes harder to keep your balance and you slip and twist your ankle; the excruciating pain rushes to your mind like a spike and every twig in your brain snaps. You roll sideways into the deep gutter and cut your head on prickly thorns while spicing your hands with stinging nettles. You feel overwhelmed by a mixture of exaggerated pain; your malnourished body multiplying each sensation. Your nerves unanimously votes to shut you down.

Your unconscious rules your sleep. No one notices you as the Earth tucks you in. For hours leaves bless your body as you dream of nothing else but a home you both love and hate. Your own confusion scares you and your dream turns into a nightmare as you fail to control your fears. You witness, once again, the endless sodomisation and abuse. The hundreds of little, but big lies, proclaim and shout at you again and again. You hurl yourself through all thoughts and you portray yourself in such despair that your tears and cries wake you up.

You struggle to free yourself from the goblins of the trench and eventually you climb out. Being just about able to bear weight on your ankle you press on down the endless road. Fields of corn and marshland flow as the carpet before you flutters in the wind. The road gets busier and busier as the sun shows the first signs of settling. The evening had already begun to pass. From afar a crystal sheet shines. You had finally reached the shoreline.

The summer sun turns air to dust as straight paths bend. Your steps become both frequent and infrequent, slowly losing their grace as vigour diminishes. The flowers stink and the sea is sickening. The sky is a merciless vacuum and the hair whirlwinds together as a tangled net of dirt and grease. As you tread along the beach the winds picks up and sand blasts at you so discriminately. You have no choice but to rest on a high fence until it passes. You look sideways into the diamond ocean; the sparks of evening fireflies dancing along the waves. Your imagination is a burden to you as you picture yourself with imaginary friends and family as you build sand castles and eat ice cream.

As you become absorbed into the fantasy you feel faint, but recover and walk along the fence; the challenge amusing you. But you fall off and feel your light body smash onto your knees. You rest in that position and cry; deeply ashamed of yourself. After two minutes you face up to the delay and continue on, to nowhere. You find some steps onto the highway and climb them as the sun becomes fully cushioned by the night.

You've lost count of the days now. You've been travelling down the highway for hours. The moon and wind keep making love to you and with each passing moment its proposals seem more valid. Nobody stops to check up on you; probably most can't even see you, but the red and white lights illuminate your skeleton.

*Story continues in second post*

"Hey Arnold" and "Doug" - still better than shows on television today.

I'm thinking of making an extremely competent personal film series containing my deepest thoughts and how I reflect myself around my environment.

One of the biggest problems in doing this is that I will video record family members and the general public.

Although most of them are simply part of the ambient background (montages), do you think I should disclosure the fact that I'm recording them?

Or do I perhaps hide the camera, guarantee footage and increase the natural behaviour that will be recorded?

How would you honestly feel if I was recording your life for investigation to further explore my own?

Sammi

Are the use by dates on consumables accurate?

Do people know that it is safe to eat (or use) on the use by date or only before the use by date?

Is bread for example supposed to produce mould a day after the use by date and is dangerous to eat?

Have you ever become ill from eating something which is out of date, or more interestingly something which was in date?

Do we waste an unbelievable amount of food due to inaccurate use by dates and do you think that the government should spend money on revising and extending use by dates?

Sammi

I think dynasty warriors 2 & 3 made the biggest impact for me. The maps in DW2 were massive; it took the entire 99 minutes to complete. DW4 & 5 showed signs of deterioration in terms of graphical input and 'wow' factor. The battlefields were smaller and through the use of recycled maps, more familiar - it blew off the game's spectacles.

My favourite character initially was Sun Shang Xiang; this was later replaced with Xing Cai - although Lu Bu was clearly the most powerful to play in DW5 - {I was waiting for a decent girl for Shu - my preferred kingdom}.

The main problem is that through DW5 the battles no longer feel epic, therefore the feeling that you were actually a part of a massive campaign and your decisions mattered was lost. The game is now mainly about aiming for officers - just a basic killjoy engine that has become extremely mundane. I haven't played dynasty warriors 6, but the way forward for the series is to really bring back that sheer feeling of "epic" and focus solely on making it more tactical.

Sammi