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⇛Marnetmar⇛

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Everything posted by ⇛Marnetmar⇛

  1. Huh. Mayhaps YouTube's algorithm thinks that the shotgun reloading animation is a swipe transition?
  2. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Superior forum branding

    Your ideas are intriguing to me and I would like to subscribe to your newsletter
  3. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    The Blame Game

    I would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for those meddling kids and @CFWMagic!
  4. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Caves of The Past (Single-Map WAD)

    Great map. Well-balanced, easy-to-navigate, well-themed with tons of memorable areas, and you incorporated ZDoom features in a really tasteful way. Loved the part with the friendly marine. The use of impassable lines felt a little janky at times, and you left a voodoo doll behind the player start. Overall, 7.5/10
  5. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    In your opinion, do you think there is going to be another doom game?

    More than likely yes, but I'm not particularly excited about it. The charm of Nu-doom has thoroughly worn off for me at this point and I think they should give the franchise a rest for a few years.
  6. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    React To The Custom Title Above You

    Good taste in music
  7. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Cacoward winners without any cacodemons?

    More like a no-caco-ward, am I right?
  8. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Man With A Paper Soul

    Man With A Paper Soul 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.
  9. I reckon that Mick's story is far closer to a norm than an exception in creative industries like game development. Hopefully this prompts others in the industry who have received similar treatment to share their stories, and hopefully some cultural change occurs as a result.
  10. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Obviously very true Doom facts thread

    Post your absolutely most very obviously true Doom facts in this thread Did you know John Romero designed levels for the Bethesda game "Doom"?
  11. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    GloomyPal

    Put a little Gloom in your Doom™ Download
  12. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    How Do Ya Like Your Coffee?

    I drink mine black. The milk and sugar in latte-based drinks is a bit much for me. Unfortunately a lot of people don't realize that coffee can (and should) be enjoyable on its own. We've been conditioned into thinking that stale and badly brewed coffee is just what coffee is supposed to taste like, and the insufferable pretentiousness of coffee culture turns people away from finding out how delicious coffee can really be.
  13. I have been having an issue with SLADE that started out as something I could work around, but lately, has become unbearable. This just started happening one day out of the blue. Seemingly at random and with no rhyme or reason, graphics in WAD files will not show up. This can range from a few to swaths of dozens of them at at time. This happens in every wad I test this on, including IWADs. Here is an example from Doom.wad: Not only do the affected graphics not show up in the entry browser, they don't show up in any other dialog either. Here's an example from the "new texture from patch" dialog: Make no mistake, the WAD files are perfectly fine and un-corrupted, and the data is still there. Here's one of many textures from a collab I'm doing that's not showing up in SLADE: As you can see, it shows up in Doom Builder (also in game but I can't be assed to take another screeshot) just fine: To complicate matters further, any new graphics added to a wad with slade are automatically made invisible. They can be converted and manipulated and they will show up in game just fine, you just can't see them in SLADE while you're working with them. I've tried deleting my SLADE installation and doing a fresh install multiple times but the exact same thing keeps happening. What the fuck is going on?
  14. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Guess what day it is, Doomworld!! 🎃

    That's right, it's National Knock Knock Joke Day! https://nationaldaycalendar.com/national-knock-knock-joke-day-october-31/ Get together with your friends and share your favorite knock knock jokes! Post some of your favorite knock knock jokes in this thread! Here's one: Knock Knock! (Who's there?) Knock nock! (Knock Knock Who?) Knock Knock 'round the clock baby, it's National Knock Knock Joke Day!
  15. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Jokes Thread

    There exists a coffee drink called an affogato, which is espresso poured over ice cream. Wanna know why it's called an affogato?
  16. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Things about Doom you just found out

    SHAWN2 is made from two identical sections mirrored vertically.
  17. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Dark Chocolate VS Milk Chocolate

    I'm a wimp when it comes to super super dark chocolate. I like to have the sweetness and bitterness fairly evenly balanced and milk chocolate is way too sweet for my tastes
  18. Hire Devin Townsend to do some crazy Strapping Young Lad-style stuff A doom soundtrack by KMFDM would be fucking awesome
  19. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Dark Chocolate VS Milk Chocolate

    they used to make dark chocolate twix bars and they were my favorite candy bar of all time, but then they got rid of them and it makes me sad
  20. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Dark Chocolate VS Milk Chocolate

    this stuff is crack in chocolate form
  21. ⇛Marnetmar⇛

    Kenneth Scott is remaking "Birdie".

    YESSSSS Birdman is better than any of the monsters that actually made it into Doom 3 and I will defend him and his beak until the day I die
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