Cell

I once modified the stained green marble textures to match the yellow guts/snakes beneath.

Unofficial "Throwback Thursday" entry: a "tile storage" from circa 2010. Being the ravish kid I was, I crafted an elaborate lore behind it, stating this is where map builders take their tiles from. Could have ran empty a couple linedefs into mapping if it was indeed so. Featured a few custom textures, too (the little brown cube AFAIK originates from NDCP2), and relied on ZDoom-compatible texturing, i. e. floors on walls and vice versa. And a much more recent throwback to end this nonsense. Amid-August I published some seems-like-a-project images about "Doom Textris" (or how shall I name it), and now did I realize that I flunked a potential chance in it. Heeere ya go, ain't ya lookin' sweet now that Daddy's done a facelift? It was my pleasure to take your time again. :]

I think this one is fairly unrecognized.

While I am far more than liable to be proven otherwise, but I believe this scenery in Plutonia MAP10 I suddenly became aware of during a recent replay might be qualified an entry on the unwritten list of "Plutonia doppelgängers" (i.e. MAP21 <-- Doom II MAP11, MAP18 <-- Doom II MAP14, etc.), unless it haven't yet: For me, it seems like a smaller, less fleshy and/or bloody version of the so-called "E3M4 torture chambers".

I turned 25 today. (I wonder if anyone got the reference for this temporary avatar.)

Forget this shit. On a second lookback, the building was in so a ruined condition that even if it had collapsed on me, the material would've dissolved by just barely touching me. So that doesn't really count, and taking the thing that I recently suddenly remembered into consideration, it fades even more heavily in comparison. It happened somewhere in 2003? 2004? I don't exactly know. Thing is, I was an elementary schooler kid, around age 10. I used to have a real obsession for electronic instalments, starting with lamps in all sizes and shapes - one particular case was toddler me running into every facility in my previous hometown, demanding their runners to flip the light switches a couple of times for my pleasure. They mostly obeyed, but I just lately was told that it was because my mother was the best elementary school teacher in said town they knew and liked pretty well. And when at around ages 7-8, my obsession towards lamps apparently faded into oblivion, did the next phase come along - power outlets. Thankfully, I wouldn't be asking random people to shove long, thin and mostly metallic objects in those little holes holding the powers of certain death, but just awe at their positioning, and sometimes, higher frequency per room - for some reason. One certain culprit was this one in the corner of a room in my house which used to be my elder sister's before she moved out: The One Outlet which almost cost me my life. I just loved it, sitting in there semi-obscurely, behind an armoir and perfectly blending with the wall. I remember staying seated for long hours on the edge of said furniture, just gazing at it, unable to be satisfied by its charming perfection. Then, one day, almost everything changed about the feelings in my heart towards this piece of inner achitecture when, by sheer mischance, I found an around 6-7 inches long broken electric cord with a plug on one end in a drawer. I played with it for a solid thirty minutes, then went along and plugged it into this one beloved outlet, where I proceeded to fondle the cord's plastic cover gently with my fingers. Suddenly, the entire house went from full light up to pitch black - and I started panicking in the darkness. After my mother, slightly upset over losing track of her online conversations, switched the rheostat back to return power to the house, she interrogated me right along, and I was flat-out honest about the incident to the smallest detail. Learning that I was just about to become - as she would put it - "a burnt pile of coal", she'd become truly mortified and lectured me thoroughly how I was gonna be under the electronic charge instead of a light bulb or other device. Clearly she wouldn't've loved to lose me to some stupid obsession after losing my father and her husband to melanomic cancer - and this is where I started to be much more cautious around outlets. Minutes after considering marrying one.

I am ambidextrous. Which in my case means that I am equally a butterfingers with either hand. :D

I like this look of me. Stiff, smooth, polished. (Source) Aside the already used dumb joke...

A female version would without doubt be bloodier. I'm sorry.

Even though to this day I still loathe Terrywads with the passion of a thousand suns, I cannot help but be astounded by how they have evolved from crude, straightforward rape jokes to sneaky, fooling, thoughtful branches of mappery with a couple of booby traps thrown in here and there. In fact... I'd love to see one thread someday disgusting discussing TW's, taking everything but the 99.8% inevitable outcome about them into consideration (yup, AFAIK there are a good few that are, in fact, winnable). Or... maybe that is what Aquarius' YouTube comment section is for?

(Overlaps with The Doom Confessional Booth.) I used to believe that this catwalk in E3M4 was just a thin, ground-patterned metal plate and those thin black lines were rods holding it above the blood.

Decided not to make a new thread entitled almost identically if this one already exists... So! I think if some wannabe-funnyguy comments "Darude - Sandstorm" in a thread about finding out the title of an actual song that is heard but never identified beforehead, that is not only freaking annoying, but also infuriatingly unhelpful. Heck, even YouTubers who feature music in their videos that aren't common knowledge and refuse to put their titles in the description are the bane of my existence. Ok, maybe that one isn't so uncommon... how about this? I say anything ad-hoc can die a bloody agonizing death. Especially Friday challenges, last-before-break responsibilities, etc. Yup.

Because I tend to heavily underestimate people's ignorance skills. Oh well, some traits never get better.

The worth of something being produced have exponentially lost its value over the years, nutshelled. Sometimes even "nightcore" versions of already existing music are considered a separate produce, take note of that. This, and that nightcore only became a term when people got bored w/ "chipmunk version" .