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⇛Marnetmar⇛

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Everything posted by ⇛Marnetmar⇛

  1. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Doom Pictures Thread 2023

    holy fuck I need this in my life right NOW
  2. Port: my boy @hfc2x tells me it happens to be vanilla compatible Skill Levels Implemented: No Bugs: Probably DOWNLOAD
  3. What did he mean by this??
  4. Lmao already found a bug within minutes, link updated
  5. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    What are you listening to?

  6. blue raspberry flavor fruit punch flavor watermelon flavor coffee flavor
  7. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Doom Pictures Thread 2023

  8. Well over a decade ago, around the time Death Magnetic and Guitar Hero: Metallica came out, people got their hands on a bunch of Metallica stems and began making their own mixes of them in freeware programs like Audacity. Generally, people were setting out to make their own mixes of And Justice For All and Death Magnetic, both of which are among the most infamous albums of all time: Justice for deliberately turning the bassist all the way down in the mix, and Magnetic for generally sounding like Rick Rubin was trying to suck the listener's eardrums out through a vacuum cleaner. To my naive and untrained teenage ears, I thought these all generally sounded pretty lousy: after all, why not make them sound like The Black Album instead? After all, all the mix guy has to do is fiddle with a few knobs and buttons, right? Surely it couldn't be that hard, right? (spoiler: it's not even remotely possible to do that) All this piqued a little on and off interest in music production, which really kicked off during my college years. During that time, I began in earnest to try my own attempt at Justice remix. The first one I did sounded really bad and has since been lost to the sands of time. Nonetheless, it bugged the ever-loving shit out of me that I hated the way all these fan mixes sounded and yet I couldn't top them myself, so I kept chipping away at this problem. One self-taught-audio-engineering-hobby and a shitload of wasted time and money later, I've finally arrived at a result that, while it's not perfect, I can at least say I'm basically happy with. What this mix tries to accomplish is to preserve some aspect of the classic Justice sound while actually getting the bass and guitars working together properly, and generally trying to beef everything up as much as possible without having to resort to full-on-sample-replacement or the like. Headphones or good speakers recommended. This isn't a full album mix, since only five of nine songs have mixing stems available. Also, The Shortest Straw is just a rough mix, as I found the the drum stems to be unusable. And Dyers Eve is briefly spliced with the original due to the vocal stems being censored in that part. One last thing: In retrospect, this mix probably still has a few things wrong with it; the vocals on Blackened are a bit buried, I probably pushed the snare compression a tad too far in a couple places, yadda yadda yadda. Maybe to you it sounds like electric elephant turds. Maybe electric elephant turds are your thing, who knows? But overall, I'm content to say I've finally climbed this mountain, and this particular fun little musical adventure can, at last, draw to a close. Enjoy and please don't be too mean.
  9. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Marnetmar Remixes Metallica's ...And Justice For All, One Final Time

    Bloody hell I knew that was going to happen
  10. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Doom pre-MUS original source MIDI files

    Damn, if it weren't for the percussion being so different Fight Fire With Fire for intermission would be super obvious. I'm surprised nobody caught it after 30 years.
  11. Man With A Paper Soul (Written 2021-2022) There once lived a man with a paper soul, Which could easily just have been paper-thin gold, It didn't matter which, Each would crumple and fold, And anything too incisive risked tearing a hole. To protect his soul, he hammered and chiseled, A shield to absorb any spiritual thistles, But with each anvil strike, his fortitude whittled, And the metal he forged became all the more brittle. As his shield cracked and splintered, he became more repelled, By any person so bold as to share parts of themselves, The light in their eyes flooded his cavernous shell, And set fire to a soul that, if burned, burned too well. But his fellow man's heart wasn't his only feared menace, For a flame leapt around every corner and crevice, Trails of red embers interweaved at his feet, Ignited by musings he dared not hear, think, or speak: A grievance that brought a misconduct to light, A pondering of things that go bump in the night, An insight that touched at some truth gone unspoken, An admission of things that were glaringly broken. Since things raw and unfiltered wouldn't be seen, heard, or felt, He couldn't look in the shadows that dwell in himself, With each unacknowledged sin, his heart further blackened, And any gold in his soul turned to lead, pitch, and ashes. Though he couldn't look within, he sensed a certain distress, A void, though not seen, could be felt in his chest, From the body around it, he traced the void's silhouette, The silhouette of a soul to which fire could be set. He only knew what he lacked through the fires that befit it, Fires he avoided for the flames they emitted, But in fire there was warmth to which others convened, A warmth he mistook for position and prestige. So he marched his way on towards those beacons set alight, By expressions of self, things loved, and tears cried, But steered clear of those firetenders who stood watch in the night, Whose souls could be glimpsed through their radiant eyes. Exaggerated displays were his claim to prestige, For, though loud, they were broad, so they didn't cut deep, He paraded himself before their glimmering retreat, A self-proclaimed leader of the firetenders' keep. With curiosity and wonder, the firetenders came forth, To observe this new dance that they'd not seen before, But with vitriol and venom, he shooed them away, And with contempt, turned his nose, and resumed his display. Glowing tears welled in the firetenders' eyes, Briefly troubling the man with a paper soul's mind, But by expressing their hurt, their flames only burned brighter, Threatening a visage of his soul's funeral pyre. As he pranced and cried out to some invisible troupe, Upon the incoming wind, other paper souls blew, To watch him intently, from any angle they could, Not for love of his dance, but to know where they stood, Since for them, this new outpost and its glimmering grace, Would be not a safe haven, but a time and a place, To gather together for gathering's sake, A place to belong, not to which to run away. A newfound commune, but not one too closely spun, Certainly not where the hurt could bare their hearts one-to-one, If the beacons before them shone a love that was higher, The only solution was to extinguish their fires. For what greater threat was there, from all threats abound, Than to burn their great paper commune to the ground? A fire let near would leave rubble behind, And fire far away felt no pressure to die. That they'd come to such fires was paid little mind, Since a fire's light wasn't what they'd come here to find, The firetenders' keep was just the name of a realm, With a man with a paper soul at the helm. In this realm was no love, but an upholding of peace, Through performative acts to keep one's standing agleam, With honors unchallenged, and matters kept light, And all fires and their embers to be put out on sight. But to stamp them out openly would disrupt their congruity, For if tact was performative, then so too was cruelty, To be seen as a villain was far worse than one's acts; Than the evil itself beneath a villain's polite mask. With silent acknowledgement amongst one another, Of disquieting motives to be kept hushed and covered, A change could be felt in the shimmering air, A silence of sounds one but now knew were there. In faraway shadows where fire's light couldn't reach, Where they couldn't affront if they couldn't be seen, A list of the firetenders' names was prepared, Along with the parts of themselves that they'd shared. From the darkness, at random, with a contemptuous growl, A faceless choir called a firetender's name aloud, "Behold, this strange misfit, who from us is apart, How worthless, the pitiful contents of his heart!" One called asked the shadows, "why do you insist that we weep?" "To protect, from you miscreants, the firetenders' keep!" "Why do you choose to remain out of view?" "So as not to be seen in the same place as you!" "Who are you travelers, and why are you here? What is this firetenders' keep you revere? We know no such thing, we're but a few, cinder-marked, Bonded by a need for a light in the dark!" "If not for these travelers, there'd be no-one here!" Cried the paper-souled leader who'd summoned his peers, "The keep is a place alive and well without you, You yourself said you amount but a few! Perhaps your flames earned you a few devotees, But with the crowds that I move, I wield far more prestige! What do you contribute? Whose respect have you earned? Your smoldering embers serve only to burn! Perhaps there's a time and a place for your gall, But it's not among us, perhaps nowhere at all! Perhaps you love deeply, with a fervor that's ceaseless, Whatever's within you, we don't want to see it!" The man with a paper soul resumed his performance, While his followers emerged from the darkness to join him, With implicit permission, they began to fulfill, What, moments before, was thought crudeness distilled: At the faintest of glow, all new kindling was smashed, And its smoking remains promptly covered with ash, Fires ablaze dwindled with each second drop, Of rains brought by thunder from each dancer's stomp. The firetenders looked for a clear patch of sky, In search of some star they could navigate by, A time has arrived, it was painfully clear, To seek shelter and warmth in some place far from here. As the firetenders left this commune one-by-one, Some left behind felt guilt about what they'd done, Had their paper-souled leader, and by extension, they, Been justified in driving these misfits away? As soon as one doubted their leader's good sense, Five others among them leapt to his defense, "He hasn't killed anyone, he's done the best that he could, This man isn't evil, he's simply not good!" One couldn't hold such a man to account, When to do so would cause what he'd built to burn down, An option his followers couldn't accept, When what they belonged to trumped the company they kept. The man with a paper soul had found what he'd sought: The source of the fires to which he'd seen others drawn, The fires which he'd thought an aesthetic and theme, For this place that he'd christened "the firetenders' keep." A place where each man played a designated role, A mask always worn, lest they each get too close, A web between nodes that were perfectly spaced, Enmeshed with the group, yet each kept at arm's length. A kingdom of paper, with a flame as its crest, Yet shielded from fires that would lay it to rest, Which could stand as a symbol of something achieved, No matter how weak the foundation beneath. In spite of his pride, he felt a certain distress, A void, though, not seen, was still felt in his chest, From the body around it, he traced the void's silhouette, The silhouette of a soul to which fire could be set. He asked to himself, "is this all that there is?" Yet it was just due to him, that all there was, was just this, He'd attacked what he'd reached for in hopes that he'd miss, So that as soon as he'd reached it, it had ceased to exist. He found himself back in the place he'd began, Alone amongst names who were known, but not friends, That he still preferred this over that for which he'd searched, Had left him a quite paradoxical sort: A seeker of meaning, so far as it wasn't honest, Averse to emotion, but not histrionics, Who stood out in a place where he fit like a glove, A community pillar; esteemed, but not loved. Who aided his group in any way he could find, So long as no joy could be seen in their eyes, Who prided himself in being decent and decorous, Yet treated some with contempt, and knew not why they objected. He shaped the world outside after what was within; A vacuous void where neither joy nor pain lived, He'd have no other way than this one he knew well, Eternally trapped in his own fireless hell.
  12. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    I ban you because...

    I band the person below me because I think they're a great musician
  13. Do you like octagons? Trick question -- of course you do! That's why it may appall you to find out that John Romero has been keeping all the octagons for himself! That's right, our beloved John Romero is an octagon thief! Want proof? Did you know that in the pre-release versions of Doom, Central Processing had a lovely octagon, smack in the middle of the map? You might even say it was the centerpiece. Until one day, that is -- when it mysteriously disappeared without a trace: I took it upon myself to find the missing octagon, and after a long and arduous search across many continents, I found it and have returned it to its rightful place, right at home in E1M6. DOWNLOAD EDIT: Argh, I'm running on two hours of sleep and posted this in the Doom General forum on accident. I ask that a mod politely move it while I go weep in embarrassment. thx obsidian
  14. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Man With A Paper Soul And Other Assorted Works

    Untitled (2022) A caterpillar dangled to weave its cocoon Himself far too late, the rest far too soon, Due to an unbeknownst freeze in the night, He emerged to find all of the moths had now died
  15. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    How did Adrian Carmack come up with FIREBLU???

    The real question is, why didn't Adrian Carmack come up with FIREBLU sooner?
  16. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    [Half-Shitpost] Octagon Processing

    this octagon slander will not stand, man
  17. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    An unreleased Doom 4 trailer has been found!

    That last shot might be an early version of Foundry, according to Marty it was originally a Doom 4 1.0 level that made its way into Doom 2016.
  18. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    What are you listening to?

  19. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    MyHouse.wad

    All time great masterpiece that transcends the medium in a way not done before
  20. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    For those who dislike Slaughter maps...

    I enjoy being able to play a bit recklessly and aggressively, and slaughtermaps require an amount of strategy that doesn't leave much room for this. Of course, that's not a bad thing, it's all a matter of personal preference.
  21. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Random Video Thread

  22. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    What age group did id think was gonna play Doom originally?

    Seeing as id was a group of irreverent twentysomethings running a small game company at the time, I don't imagine any business discussions about an intended target demographic took place except for maybe Jay Wilbur talking to publishers before they decided to self-publish the game.
  23. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Obviously very true Doom facts thread

    John Romero was once quoted as saying "everybody wanna be a bodybuilder but ain't nobody wanna lift no heavy ass weights"
  24. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Is the Doom franchise "cursed"?

    When John Carmack broke into the school library to steal an Apple II, it created a split in the timeline and the one we're living in is marked by strife, horror and anguish. This is why you obey your local anti-trespassing laws, kids -- you never know what unimaginable horrors you might unleash.
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