Status Updates posted by Battle_Korbi
OH BOY IT HAVE BEEN A WHILE SINCE I POSTED!
We are going to ask you to buckle your fuckles ladies and gentleman, and prepare yourself fooor...
Yay I am funny.
So lets get the show started.
Oh yaah... a disclamer!
WARNING - EDGY TEEN SHIT AHEAD - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
The class guys have really planned out their picnic/party/whatever.
The class's group chat isn't spammed with low quality (way too fucking) old Balkan memes anymore, but pictures of copious amounts of liquid assets that are apparently going to be used to push a certain agenda, and still UNOPENED at that.
Also, they calculated EVERYTHING. Writing down names, numbers, calculating even, graphs, and data from the internet. Heck, if they could change weather, they would. Not to mention a BLOODY MAP.
They planned this shit out like they are going to pillage Lindisfarne, guarded by 20 Crystal Dragon Jesuses at that. And a plasma cyberREMOND as a boss battle at the end. AND if they wanted to do a speedrun record while at it. And with everyone ending with 100 hp no more no less. That amount of planning.
I wish I could study as much as these guys planned for this.
I bet they think likewise.
And they are still trying to persuade me to go.
And I say, oh no, darlin, oh no no no.
Simply put, I won't even bother considering should I go.
And everytime they ask me why I won't go they ignore my legit reasons why I shouldn't and every argument ends in a stalemate.
I do not even want to explain anymore. Every time they try to push me to go, I just don't want to go even more.
I do not care if its "the real last time we hang out as a class". I never really liked the class sans several people, and I think everyone agrees as well but no one wants to say it. Heck, maybe I am going to stay in contact with at least two people. If God wills it, maybe more.
That is it. They know I am fully equipped to operate heavy machinery and they need a transporter once they get drunk as horses.
Hah! Whatever, I ain't going. I think I would get fucked over something if I went there. There is this faint smell of something bad going on with this.
Nyaaaah (oO_n_Oo ) I am not focused properly! This mash of text you have just read up here is literal translation of my native language to English basically. Filled to the brim with catchphrases, local jargone and everything.
I am always verbose, and can handle both languages with easiness. What is wrong with me today?
*** WARNING - MAY CAUSE COMPLAINTS - MAY CAUSE PEOPLE TO WRITE "tday generation is pussified" ON THEIR SOCIAL NETWORKS - MAY CAUSE "No really not, you are the baby here fucking pussy" REACTIONS - MIGHT CAUSE CRINGE ***
Why do I write shit like this?Spoiler
In general, Facebook can't cut it these days. I need a place to vent my thoughts, and I would like people to see them. Cuz anything I say to Facebook HAS to be cuz I am a "lib cuck" or "cis nazi" or some third shit that doesn't even have any kind of connection with what I am talking about. Fuck politics. Seems like Doomworld is my only spot to do this. Reddit doesn't cut it either, either someone gets offended or "doesn't get offended you are getting offended baby cuck".
Hoooo (-______- )
Why do people shove politics into everything? That should be like a new rule: If it exists, it has something to do with politics.
So today, I was having a talk with this girl (and this is my third time talking with her about this), which apparently managed to turn into it from a simple "You look tired" line. How the fuck?
Anyways, from a simple chat, I think someone dropped "Hey you two should kiss".
TRACKING MISSILES LOADED.
"DEFENSE PLAN" ENGAGED.
My casual mood dropped from that second onwards, as I got jumpy inside myself. I think I remained cool on the outside, not sure.
Anyways, I think the reason why I got so defensive because I got scared. I dunno how, I just kinda considered the whole thing to be a massive prank, and that someone wants to see me humiliated, since I have no life and everything, talking with a girl is something of a new world wonder, or the Holy Spirit descended and made me speak. Either way people "on the outside" (out of my social circle and class probably) are stunned by the fact that someone THEY WERE SURE was some virgin who gets nosebleeds while talking to any female person WAS talking to a female person with a clean nose.
I just... never have problem talking with people, regardless of sex, just maybe age (are they old enough to be talked to as a elder?), so this concept kinda bothers me. I get it, some people don't like me, but do they really have to go that far and turn me into some hentai-addict with a penchant for playing old games? I mean like, what the fuck, dude? If I am doing something wrong, consider telling me, man!
Mostly because I don't really say I do something cool but turn out to be a text-book loser who looks like he popped out of a GTA already "satiric" 'verse, masturbating and being envious "of de reel men!". I am not in puberty anymore. No more of those funny hormones that made me a pathological liar for a long time. I am now a man of my own word, and a man of a written word. And most importantly...
I am asexual.
That is what bothers me.
It is like saying I am a greedy gold-plated billionare. I am not one, don't want to be, nor am I envious of other people's riches.
That is the thing with asexuality.
In general, when someone says they are asexual, they are saying that they don't feel any sexual attraction coming from ANY sex/gender. In that matter, I've got a bonus. I simply don't like sex either. As a hormone-possesed 12-year old, sure, I wanted to see what was all the fuss about, how does it feel, and to find out why other boys liked looking at nude women. I am not going to lie, I tried porn as well.
I didn't get the point of it.
About how did I misinterpreted this stuff, read here. (could be interesting if you have a teenage boy in your household)Spoiler
I was more drawn to faces and eyes, and proportions in general. There was this "scale" of things I consider when looking at photographies of people (in general, not nudes), like, what is the person doing with their hands, are they smiling, what are they staring at, kinda like I do literature these days. It took me a while to realise what I was doing wasn't proper. I was actually enjoying the art of it, for fucks sake. I realised that when I saw a guy I was watching "pictures" with, how he kept zooming at the private parts. I was like "Leave the entire picture on" and he would be like "What are you, fucking gay?".
I was doing manly stuff wrong.
All the damn time.
Apparently I was suppose to think about "how much pussai I can get" and "how to obtain such" and "how to feel it". I was actually thinking of how things moved. Porn was like dance to me.
WHAT THE FUCK?!
WHY DID I WASTE SO MUCH TIME ON THINGS I WASN'T EVEN INTERESTED IT?
I LOOK LIKE A JACKASS!!!
So basically, I was supposed to let my dodongo do the thinking.
He was equally confused as well. Everything he smelled left him puzzled. Sometimes even disgusted.
What was wrong with me?
After numerous hours spent at research and behavior analysis (by looking up various fetishes, seeing where it clicks, even tested out if I do men or even stuff between... nothing clicked), I determined I was asexual!
Which kinda sucks because I already have no taste in cars nor do I watch sports, now I don't like girls!
Can I call myself a man anymore!? What manly stuff do I like even?!
Guns (I would really like to fire off a cylinder of a Colt Walker at least once)
Metal (from thrash, to even power metal at very rare times)
Quality liquor (preferably of the warmer and sweeter kind, like mead, or anything with honey in it)
Anyways, pretty much after that we started talking AGAIN about it.
I mean, I get it, I cannot expect anyone to know first hand about asexuality, but still, we talked about it. She boutta know I wasn't joking or if I was self-depreciating again or if I said that to look cool. I mean, I do not want to talk about it with her anymore because she constantly thinks I am calling her ugly whenever I say I don't find her sexually attractive (that is how we got to talk in the first place, a stupid prank gone educational and most importantly, nothing laughable happened :D ), nor anyone for that purpose.
But today she went deeper, like:
"So, when do you plan on starting a family?"
When I get a full-time well paid job after college. Next!
"How do you plan on doing it, since you don't like it?"
Much like how sewer workers keep going into the sewers. They might not like it, but you've gotta do what you have to do.
And numerous other questions.
I constantly kept thinking she was actually into me and not in for a prank, and expected her to do something about it. Well, if she did, I didn't see it. If she didn't, good. And just talking to her about it makes me sad about it as well. I constantly feel like I am turning her down, especially since she hasn't done anything bad to me
But there is dickish side in me which says that she is taking a pity on me by trying to talk with me, and keeps complimenting me thinking I find my sexual orientation bad or something and that I want to kill myself. Maybe she wants to convert me?!
I think everyone around me shares the same viewpoint. That either I am saying I am asexual to be cool or that makes me think less of myself?! Why didn't anyone consider that I am asexual and not pretending?
Well yeah, I do think less of myself, but only because of my laziness and procastrination. I pretty much love everything else about me.
I mean, when I draw Google-translated chinese words on my hands, that is "trying to be cool". Saying that I am asexual is not "trying to be cool". When I keep saying I would fail at life, this is where you give pity unto me. Not when I say I am asexual. Fuck, I am even proud to be asexual, at least I don't have to bother with impressing anyone for the time being and I can devote that extra time to playing Doom or something.
Fucking sheesh. I am not supposed to even care about it, but yet here I am, annoyed.
- Show previous comments 2 more
Nice! Great idea for a girlfriend. It seems like fun times what you described, without having to care for what others say and stuff. Unfortunately, a girl playing games other than Candy Crush or listening to metal is a very rare species in my country (or in my town, even though it has 200.000 to 300.000 citizens).
Also, the first paragraph describes me somewhat. Texting: Near 0% (I get on facebook every once in a month and my profile pic is from at least 3 years back), Going to crowded places: Only with friends, Clothing: Pretty casual I should say, although sometimes I wear my favourite leather jacket, pair of shoes and blue t-shirt with an industrial skull on it, or something. In that occasion, my confidence is raised above maximum and I feel like Iron-man, while I imagine a metal song playing on the background (whatever I listen to at that time).
And about trust, I totally agree. If the relationship isn't built with it in mind, it shouldn't be called a relationship, in my opinion, but a waste of time and a way to get sad for no reason at all.
Finally, SO THERE IS A BLONDIE, AHHH!!!
Just kidding! :D
TIME TO GET PHILOSOPHICAL
If indeed, I am not sexually attracted to any sex, do I desire for my life partner to be female?
Is it per tradition? Or is it because I am not really who I think I am?
Ahhh fucking right I remember now.
I wanted to start a family.
BUT IF I HATE SEX SO MUCH WHY NO ADOPT /(đĐ-Đđ)7 ?
Because... of my geneeeees!
I sound like a bag of dicks with this statement! But I want my offspring to share my own genes! Yey!
That, and well honestly... It is a pretty much conservative country (Mini Poland basically), and I cannot see myself with a guy or an "it". Living and screwing around with a female variation of myself sounds like tons of fun anyways.
I cannot believe myself I sound so fucking spoiled I should be happy if I get a part-time lizard volunteer on a three wheeled skateboard that is tilted to one side by 14 degrees as a life partner considering my qualities.
Whom'st'v'ed' the fuck cares anyway? Its the imagination time, now I can fantasize as much as I want!
Narrator: Right now, we have seen how does this Battle_Kirby creature think like. Considering it's daily activities and prolonged solitude, we can determine that the genes behind this sample of a specimen will be forever lost not to evolution, but it's own self destructive and obstructive behavior.
Me: *throws a rock at the cameraman while screaming internally*
Narrator: Rest assured, it would have been better if our cameraman decided to retreat at the moment. But whatever fate decides it does. A minute of silence to honor our previous cameraman. So brave, yet so naive.
I don't know about what genre you want your companion to be, but for the love of God, don't pick a lizard! Raise your expectations and demand a human partner in the least. How will that partner look like you may ask? Wait and you will see in the future (find out in the next episode).
*have this played in your browser while reading this next for 500% more emotion*Spoiler
HUZZAH!!! I HAVE MANAGED TO FIND THE PROBLEM WITH MY TABLET!
The charger was only partly connected to the charger! It was wondrous that the damn thing managed to partly recharge during this whole thing.
I know I may have damaged the tablet or the charger and I should check it out BUT I DO NOT CARE!
I CAN STILL PLAY GAMES AND GRIND FOR THE MATURA EXAMS!
I may lose a day tommorow, but any day after that won't ever be lost! THE SCHEDULE CONTINUES!
in case you have the music playing then the spoiler below would make sense
KIRBY'S NEURONS STILL MARCH WITH DETERMINATION AND PRIDE.
NOTHING CAN FALTER THE CONQUEST OF THE GRIND.
THE GRIND IS NOTHING BUT A STUPID NIGHTMARE OPPOSED TO ONE'S WILLPOWER AND INTELLECT.
INDEED IT IS THE WILL AND THOUGHT THAT LEADS A ARMY TO VICTORY.
A ARMY MAY MARCH ON ITS' STOMACH, BUT ONLY WITH ITS' HEART IT STOMPS THE MORTAL ENEMIES.
WITHOUT MORALE OUR WAR BIRDS WILL NEVER CATCH THE CURRENT AND FLY.
AND WITHOUT FURY OUR HOUNDS WOULD NEVER GO IN FOR THE KILL.
AND WITHOUT A GOAL TO AIM OUR RIFLES ARE USELESS.
BUT WE HAVE IT ALL.
ALL THAT REMAINS IS TO STEP FORWARD AND LET FATE WEAVE US RIBBONS OF HONOUR!!!
*just imagine some dramatic orchestral music*
ENTRY #1 - END OF 1st DAY OF THE GRIND
The summary of the today can be described with two words: Total. Failure.
The electronic tablet which had been used til' day for studies have decided to rebel and perform a malfunction. As this log is being written, the electronical information unit is being taken care of, and while the diagnosis might not yet be complete, I have assumed that it's power storage had either reached it's peak, or there is a problem with the power transfer from the charger to the battery unit or from the battery unit to the core. Either way, it is plugged in to charge, altough at remarkably slow speed, while it expends tenfold as quick.
This unavoidable occurance has forced me to transfer my center of information onto my PC, and while the performance is quite poor and the enviroment isn't as productive, I am assured that the PC would function until the end of the Grind times properly, and 99% sure it would function a long time after the Grind times.
However, this new COI imposes several fundamental problems:
1) Due to my elders' remarkably poor judgement and perception, any sort of action being performed onto the PC by myself is considered a waste of time by them. Therefore, my "play-time" is drastically severed by potentially 80%.
2) The PC isn't as flexible in manners of information transfer, reception, and processing as the tablet was, so all further progress is estimated to slow down half of the usual speed of work. Not to even mention the connectivity issues.
I am still considering to use a diffrent approach during the Grind, and use a old-fashioned paper strategy to formulate my thoughts and use in my studies, and to find a way to minimize work on the PC. However, my paper assignment is entirely dependant on the electronic format of writing and editing, due to not A TYPING MACHINE to use.
Even if this day was lost, what makes it worse that tommorow will be a lost day aswell. I am going to have to visit along with my parents some relatives in some far-away town, leaving me little-to-no time to operate. Even if I dedicated all my free time tommorow to studies, progress could be measured with a small ruler so to speak.
- PERSONAL SHIT IN THE SPOILER BELOW - BEWARE - CRINGE AHEAD -Spoiler
This whole situation is making me desperate. My morale is drastically low, and I have little willpower to even consider my next course of action.
In other words: hlap me pls :,( dunno wat 2 do X(((((((((((
Knowing I already lost two days to nothing, leaving me with 29-30 days of the Grind, I feel small and doomed D:
Today I was supposed to work on my paper! I was just finishing up one page when the damn thing malfunctioned! Yeah yeah, I am not taking care of it right. NOTHING IS WORKING. EVERYTHING I TOUCH DIES.
I WOULDN'T BE SUPRISED IF I MANAGE TO COMPLETELY FUCK UP THIS PC AS WELL.
me swearing below: (sadly, I have learned to converge my emotions through written words)Spoiler
FUCKING FUCKING SHIT
SHITS FOR FUCKS
FUCKINGSTANGLE FUCKODOODLE FUCKALOOO
FUCKING FUDGINGLY FUCKED UP BEYOND ANY FUCKING FUCK WAY FUCK
GO SUCK A HUGE FUCKING DODONGO
FUCKING DICKS FUCKING DODONGOS
I'm angery and saddery at the same time D:<
(o 'n' o )
There's your music:
Well, I guess it is like having no cells for the BFG. In this case, you have to go with the Rocket launcher and hope that it turns out ok.
You need some motivation:Spoiler
But seriously, I also have that feeling of not doing much after a whole day. And it makes me a whole lot nervous whenever I think about it. I would suggest listening to some music before writing and if the computer can be used reliably, then use it to its full extent. Having half of the work you could do ready is not great, though compared to having done no work at all, it is better. And if it is possible, when you can't write, just plan ahead of time for what you will do. I use this in a way for school: whenever I am bored to do exercises, I revise the theory, so the time is not wasted.
Anyways, hope this goes well for you. :)
Today, the Grind has officially begun. As of the time this post is being written, it is 11:37.
The original plan had a two mile march to the hills and backwards for extra motivation and inspiration redirection. However, due to severe weather changes and effects, the march had been delayed till further notice.
After the march, I was supposed to start working on my paper. Attempting immediate action remained a attempt, as a low battery notice postponed the work.
In other news...
I have a feeling like there are two types of people in this world:
A) "This map includes numerous 3d floors, slopes, and scripted sequences, not to mention obligatory custom textures, sounds, and monsters. Still thinking whenever to use the Super Chaingun or the Plasma Chaingun, so the wad is still in development, and I didn't want to put the Laser Minigun as the actual weapon oh no no NO! Hah, its only a placeholder!"
B) "Zdoom?! *barf* What a disgrace! Heresy! DEAD SIMPLE FOREVER!!!"
STUPID EMO BANTER IN THE SPOILER BELOW - BEWARE (if you like my bad self-analysis texts enjoy)Spoiler
Yay, I realised I am actually quite super sociable for a person but prolonged peer isolation and lack of extracurricular activites or hobbies but what I do makes me a cringe machine I am. Also, the isolation taxes me experience with human contact and fills me with paranoia, and that is why I feel so unsecure in crowded places.
In other words: I needz attention and homyn contekt :3
That is the only way I could solve whatever stupid issues I am dealing with (sans the academical problems, tis I am fucked up in general).
If I only did not live in middle of nowhere and if only gas didn't cost that much money :(
EVEN MORE STUPID FLASHBACK SHIT IN THE SPOILER BELOW - BEWARE (if you are a teacher this could be interesting)Spoiler
Once the teach' who teaches Croatian in my high school gave me a daunting task: To teach my entire class a lesson for two periods in a row.
I'll rather be doing this again that THAT DAMNED PAPER ARGH.
So, once I got home, I dived unto the task.
I was supposed to give a cover up on "Avangarde" literature both in world and Croatia at the time. Basically those cringy dudes with arms dunked with paint who keep talking shit about how "living is painful" and "Derez nu God hoho", that kinda stuff.
As I am generally quite optimistic and religious, this was a task for myself as well. How can I teach my class about some dudes who masturbated half of the day and wrote about how life is hard in the other part as most of the folks in the region are hard working stronk slavs, so they aren't completely relatable.
Other than me, a guy and a girl were given a same but smaller task they could cover in half of a period work. As I am the "literature specialist" and "dat guy who sez fuck instead of jebo ti pas mater" in my class, it was no wonder that I had to give a massive lecture on these guys. I think this isn't a new thing in school or something, as sometimes another student would jump in for physics or math. It is interesting how kids would rather listen to other kids than to teachers.
And... I worked on the entire afternoon. I prepared the material, lectorated it by myself, evaluated it, drew on it with a marker, and spent rest of the evening being excited/anxious about the tommorow.
Tommorow arrived, I was me, and I was just looking over my stuff, when the teacher presented me and ran to the back of the class.
I was stiff as fuck at the start, but as the time passed, I had grown more casual at this, throwing jokes and comments and interesting facts whenever I had to write something on the blackboard. Of fucking course, my hands were shaking like akimbo vibrators with grapple hooks on them all the time, but still, I did the job, because I AM THE TEACHER NOW I HAVE THE POWAAAAH so I didn't feel like quitting the deal.
Sometimes the guys asked me a question or two, and one guy even adressed me as a professor (and bet how I felt about it. No I was actually beaming with pride), and occasionally I tasked someone to wipe the blackboard to look like I am getting paid for it. I gave references to the textbook (If you turn to page 420 you will see blah blah), and gave a notice if something wasn't refered right in the textbook.
Turns out I finished my lecture a bit early (10 minutes of a 90 minute long sequence), and I felt like giving homework, but sustained myself since not even my professor gives homework anymore. I was escorted with a applause because seeing me doing actual work that could land me a job and I might be good at it apparently makes people impressed. And the teachers congratulated me on my performance ("YAY THAT KIRBY DUDE IS ACTUALLY GOOD AT SOMETHING!")
I rode on the glory even after the boy and the girl did their turns, they tried to copy me and add their own flair, but didn't impress people as I did. The boy was silent most of the time and wrote full sentences on the blackboard, leaving a huge attention gap in between his two three lines. The girl had cut corners, and finished too early, but since they both delivered their assignments fully no one "failed" the task, but hadn't even conquered it like it was a BITCH JUST LIKE I DID.
Yay. I might have a actual profession. Yay.
- Show previous comments 1 more
I was more looking at how far people go when making their own "Doom", like the A people going as far as possible from how doom "used to be played" and putting in a lot of content and scripts and making a own game so to speak and the B people who spit at anything that isn't Boom or PrBoom or whatever going far to "conserve" how the game used to be played.
Kinda like progress vs conservatism in regards to dooming :3
I just amped it up to make myself look like I was paid to write satirical shit :D
When looking at mods that revamp pretty much everything there is to be revamped, chances are that people with a PrBoom+/GLBoom+ fetish won't touch these for the purpose of recording demos and whatnot. They'll get played casually, and that's pretty much it. Funnily enough, many of these mods play a lot worse than "classic" maps, even in spite of how mork has been put into them. That's because people know how to use classic doom monsters by now, or at least have a vague idea about that. But when you look at custom monsters that people have no experience with, chances are they're gonna be used wrong, inefficiently, or simply boring and time consuming without being fun. If you want a good example of custom monsters/weapons done right, look at skillsaw's "valiant". Funnily enough, it's boom compatible, and plays differnt from many classic wads, in spite of replacing/adding only a few monsters, and boosting the pistol/chaingun.
Then there's the "back to basics maps" which people like to compete on, and there's usually no benefit for running them outside of GLboom+, so why use any other port to begin with?
The A-type guys should be shot in the pancreas and then forced to listen to D_RUNNIN while playing E3M1: Hell Keep until they die of blood loss or sheer terror, whichever comes first. A disgrace for mankind.
Unless they're doing all that with Boom/vanilla, in which case they belong in the eternal Hall of Fame and should be addressed with Sir Your Majesty.
Great job with the lesson. :]
CURRBEE CRO-NUTSICLES PART 69 lol
Simply put, a really bad day. Not a shitty day, per se, because I know after a shitty day comes a good day. I am a bit uncertain about tommorow.
This morning I had to drive my parents to the town, which means:
a) Every time there is my father riding shotgun, I am 200% more prone to making stupid easily avoidable mistakes
b) They pound the car and drive themselves home, leaving me with taking the scorching burning dies-every-two-stops bus, and just being a passanger on this one is one heckuva journey.
If I got to drive the car home, that would be simply the best. Chillin, windows docked down, music, AND NO FREAKING VECHULIAR MALFUNCTIONING EVERY STOP. Plus, I wouldn't have to cross 1 mile worth of the Scorched Earth on the wicked hour of 2pm (and get this... no wind, a "still day" basically).
However, that was just the bottom of the cake, with the morning being the top. The core is what is interesting.
Basically, a lot of guys are trying to convince to go to this stupid party next Friday where we would greet ourselves off as seniors and whatever. Basically, these guys are going to get drunk as fuck. Yeah, you may say that I should also get drunk as well, but no no, that ain't how it works man.
First of all, I would have to DRIVE myself back and forth. Because the party would probably end quite late at the night, and if I woke up my dad he would be fucking pissed, like a cyberdemon with a 'stache and glasses.
Simply, don't drink. Be sober, have fun.
Gee I wish.
Fact is, these guys, when they get drunk, they put these invisible VR glasses and start doing some shit exclusively funny to them. Plus, they might try and wreck some shit as well. It simply isn't worth it. Yeah, first five minutes might be great, but I don't want to spend time and money to watch someone else making fools out of themselves. I have Youtube for that.
Altough... Night driving might be cool... Yeahhh...
Oh yeah, today I had to run and pay some bills because I am "supposed to teach myself that" (- my parents, 2017), and not only I was confused, there were tons of people LOOKING at me being confused. At these moments I wish I was a girl. They would either go "Pffft, women" or "Poor little thing". A 6 foot tall overweight guy won't ever look cute when confused. Only look like a idiot, something to laugh at.
Which is apparently a thing I care about now. Till now I didn't gave a fuck about how do I look, but THEN I HAD TO BE AWARE. Fuck my brain.
Yeah, sure, I got around, paid the bills and all. I got out, and tracked down a member from the "brigade", a close friend, lets call him S., and asked him about a b-day one of the guys are going to throw.
S. is pretty much far, and while he might get dropped at the guy's place, he cannot find a way to come back without sleeping over the night.
Meanwhile the celebrator (huh, what a good demon name) lives quite close, and literally I could take a hike and be right by (what are 2-3 miles on a nice day?). Thing is, the Birthday Boy's family knows S. better than me, and I cannot just go to this guy's place without having S. by side. It would be weird, kinda stupid.
Yeah, I could take the feat and DRIVE both of us there and have a blast, but the thing is...
TOMMOROW, THE GRIND BEGINS!!!
DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUN!!!
I WOULD LITERALLY BE KNEE-DEEP IN STUDIES! I CANNOT FIND TIME TO ENJOY THE PARTY, AND IF ANYTHING, WOULD ONLY HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO DROP THE GUY AT THE PARTY!
I feel like I have reached some point of the game where I have to load a previous save and get everything right.
Seems like I am going to let this one pass...
...I should get a life... after the studies...Spoiler
Altough, that sleepover thing sounds perfect for a bromance fic. And something tells me that is what is actually going to happen.
Yeah, I abuse the status update button too much.
Previously... on KIRBY CRO-NICHLES...
*insert all the weird stuff I wrote in that last update, y kno, bout school and shit*
Basically I planned to start "grinding" in the next two days, like NONSTOP BRUTAL COMPLEX DOOM INVASION STUDYING TIME where I would quit all my miserable hobbies and just... study... finish my MOTHAFUCKIN PAPER... in 30 days.
Which is the reason I am kind off screaming. IdontwannadoitIdontwannadoit.
Some people complain that I either too childish, stupid, or insane. I see why.
Real people wouldn't be afraid of the Grind. Nah, they would do it. What is 30 days after all? Heck, some people finished their paper ages ago, and I am supposed to be in that percentage of students that could breeze through this like nothing. Heck how did I survive till now? Gotta be lucky.
In a attempt to divert my mind from such causes, lemme share the most poetic thing I had ever heard in this month.
So like, a guy in the brigade, decided to sell his textbooks and use the money to buy gas for his car. Not a big deal right?
BUT(T) FUCK I SAW SOMETHING CREATIVE IN THAT.
Like, the dude LITERALLY bartered his books for gas. If that doesn't sound like a punchline for a short post-apocalyptic story then I don't know what. Imagine living in a world like that, and you were supposed to travel south of a hot place to enter the Peace Plains(just roll with me alright), but your junkcar ran out of gas midway. So you camped on a road till a trading caravan rode by, and they decided they could give you fuel of you could give something in return. And the most valuable thing you had was a carton box filled with books of all sorts. Thing is, you planned to read the books once you had made it to the Peace Plains...
BOOM! INSTA STORY! Just add water.
I should shut up.
WARNING STUPID JOKE ATTEMPT BELOW:
When there is a school shooting in progress but you are white so that means that you are a school shooter but so are the rest of the kids in school because everyone is white and you aren't living in America which can only mean everyone is a school shooter so that means there is a deathmatch in progress and you think you have taken the lead with your highest number of frags.
Yay im funny /s
Some edgy shit I wrote after watching Hardboiled. It may not make sense, do not fret, that was the purpose. Or maybe it wasn't? Note: Lotta numbers. No math.
One. Two. Three.
One. Two. Three. Four.
One. Two. Three.
Six. Five. Four. Three.
Two. One. Reload.
EIGHTEEN! SEVENTEEN! SIXTEEN!
One. Two. Three.
After my post-movie trip ended, I wrote this epilouge out of boredom a day later.
The police were quick on the scene. Several noise complaints, two mentioning gunshots, one pedestrian even reported seeing flashes coming from the backstreet between Bush Row and Red Road, along with several gunshots to accompany.
The carnage unfolded at a certain basement underneath a restaurant led by a noble Mr Chin. The police apprehended him too, under the accusement of covering what was merely a outpost of a large drug ring. Mr Chin did return home later,having cleared out things with the our Chief Inspector. He is still a suspicious fellow to me, no matter how tasty were his famous dumplings. I wish to perform some more investigation on my own hand, but the Chief Inspector has placed him under protection, and me, a grunt, have no right to try and do shit on my own.
But it wasn't Mr Chin who was the star of the show. It was him again.
Local mooks know him as Guilao, the "ghost-man", due to his uncanny methods of work. The Guilao isn't silent as a lot of people think, just unpredictable, and really hard to chase away once he sticks to a spot. This time he decided to have some fun with the local mooks who were just holding the basement, and were having some wine, to keep the night warm.
But no amount of wine could warm the chills the Guilao brings.
Multiple bodies, approximately 11 dead fools. All executed by wild shots, either the deadly heart or head shots, or something trivial like a kidney shot. One of the mooks just got a heart attack even though the bullet hasn't even catched him, just grazed his hip.
The only mook who survived by hiding inside a refrigerator was also the one to tell the tale.
"One of the scouts hanging outside the restaurant saw the Guilao riding wildly and nearly running him over. The scout directly ran into the hideout, even though all scouts know to run into random directions to lose the pursuer first, but I guess the scout just gave up on his life already by the time he saw the Guilao. But at least he had decided to warn us first."
"The Guilao followed his shadow, seemingly perfectly knowing the scout would be scared enough to run directly to the hole we camped in. Zheng tried to barricade the door, and other two tried to help him by stacking a shelf unto the door."
"But the Guilao was prepared"
"Apparently, he brought over some dynamite and used it to instantly destroy any barricades we impose unto his arrival. Only once we heard the sizzle of the fuse and saw his face out of the small opening, we knew we had little time to prepare ourselves."
"I became a coward to the Triad. I threw myself inside a refrigerator, and never decided to step out of it or give a clue I was in. I was silent as a mouse while the Guilao seeded death. From what I heard, he took his sweet time, and used up two magazines, like you see here on the floor. How can a assasin miss some mooks like us inside a small room multiple time still puzzles me, but maybe he was just playing. Yeah... Imagine... Guilao just wanted to play... Please... Arrest me! The Triad must not know that I live!"
The poor mook was apprehended for curfew violation and under-age drinking. The Triad themselves would never bother with the kid. I bet the gang leader here just recruited him for a seasonal job. Being a night guard, sitting in a room, drinking wine and eating Mr Chin's dumplings, not a bad job for a small teenager who needs money. The Triad would never send a assasin after him, the kid was just so unimportant, and so naive.
If the Triad would bother sending a assasin after anyone, it would be after Guilao. Guilao had been a nasty prick at their side for a long time, never trying to strike deep, only going after outposts and small storages. The legend says Guilao was really a "dead man", someone who had been proclaimed dead. Some assume he is a nasty spectre of a legendary assasin Ju-long Jiang, who used to operate independently, doing big jobs and taking bigger names, and had a eagle's eye when it came to firearms, until one day, his corpse was found underneath a bridge going over the Bronze River. And the corpse had dissappeared at the morgue.
Guilao's survivors describe him having a face filled with scars and scabs, belonging to a dead man, along with tiring red eyes, and two broken teeth. Ju-long Jiang had apparently lost his legendary accuracy, and replaced it with brilliant insanity. Always prepared in defense, always unpredictable in offense.
I am probably the only low cop who noticed a small pattern in his work. I can't really tell what, but there is this feeling I get whenever I hear about the crime scene he leaves behind.
Bullets he use? Always the .45 ACP.
The way he picks his targets? From left to right.
The car he drives? Datsun 240Z.
That is all I have, but sadly I need more. What if the mooks happen to be issued with Colts, or if the Guilao picks targets at random, and he could have stolen that Datsun 240Z. As long as I find myself by the boss's office once he issues a task to respond and investigate a new crime scene, I could pick up more clues and find out where does he live.
All I have is this theory that the Guilao leads a double life, as in day, he could pretend to be a hobo, always begging for fruits and bread, also picking out his next target which he would liquidate at night. Then by looting the outposts he gets bullets and gas for his car he uses to charge down and scare mooks out of his way, like a lone knight on a horse in some old wuxia tale. The bastard probably thinks he is doing the community a favor by pissing off the Triad. Then the Triad would have to blow some steam off on some innocent people he thinks he is doing a favor for.
He hasn't done my sister a favor when he shot her that night. How could he dare to mistake my beautiful sister as a mook? My sister just found a good husband, and he had to screw it up. I am righteously angry of his actions, what does he think he is? I don't care if he used to be a elite assasin, no one touches my sister and lives to tell the tale -
- And no law or crime will stop me from finding him and exchanging -
- eye for a eye.
Story time over :PPPPPPPP
I feel like I am in some overly cute slice-of-life anime right now.
Almost everyone but my brigade has to correct a lot of grades, work off their asses to finish the year, and all me and my brigade do is; screw around, travel to the nearby cities with a car AND making it back till the end of the school day, talking about summer, going out, whatever.
Fuck, everyone in school but us is groggy as fuck. We did our shit long time ago, and the finals were done. All that remains are the SUPER ULTRA FINALS that are in another month or so. Oh, and there is like a massive quest I am on, that many are aware of: finishing my FUCKING paper.
Also, I keep screwing around throwing heroic bloodshed movie references, skipping around and shouting like a Doomguy on sugar-berserker pack.
Fuck, today we went to the park, the guys had a big convo about workout, and I was swinging on the swings all the time. Meanwhile all the freshmen, most of the second-third years, and half of seniors were sweating their asses of in school.
Not to mention how much slack we are given by the teachers. I still have a perfectly clean attendance profile despite having at least one period off every day.
And I do not sense any karmic retribution running my way. I usually do when I slack off in school. But besides those SUPER ULTRA FINALS (hereby known as they are originally said: matura), I don't feel anxious about anything. And in regards to the matura, I actually study. Thing is, I never studied for anything but for my driver's license.
Every other time I had a exam I studied DURING the exam (I iz smaert, I iz gud, hire meeh), by either failing it on purpose (first year tactic, dropped it in second year) or by reading the textbook directly from my bag (we aren't even allowed to keep pencilcases on the table and nothing underneath) or composing a l337 ch337 sh337, basically copying the textbook on a ridiculously small piece of paper (2 inches wide, so to speak, and probably 3-4 inches long) which had entire sections worth of info on them.
So yeah, I am actually bothering to study. And I still don't study as much. I NEED TO PUSH! I NEED TO GRIND! I NEED TO WRECK THIS SHIT UP!!! I can still haz camomille tea and cookies and videogames thx :3
Yay I spoke my heart out.
Basically, yeah. I am slacking off and I am in a gang of Karma Houdinis. Completely untouched by school, we ride. AD VICTORIAM!!!
*Aggresively keeps swinging on the swings*
Last night I had a dream about me being with my future wife and two future kids moving into my parents' farm (which I live on at the moment), and my kids were edgy as fuck, a 10-year old daughter named Paula, and a 7-year old boy named Timothey (short Teemo or Timoth). The girl would complain about the lack of 5G internet connection, and lil' Timoth behaved like he was a guest in his own house, sat at the main couch and looked around, "behaved" because Paula fucking told him we are going to visit some people and the lil fucker believed her.
The woman had a name, something starting with M... Mary? Martha? Mia? I called her sweety all the time so it didn't matter.
We drove a "tank" of a car, half truck, half van, ran on biofuel because petrol was expensive as fuck, and as a freelance writer and marijuana farmer/tea brewer (apparently I had a small land plot on the farm beforehand) I didn't made much money to afford wind-cars or like my older siblings drove electric cars. Was enough to pay the bills, buy food, and by the side extra. Moving to the farm apparently unlocked the rest of my potential "w33d f@rming career", as I had more land and I was at the countryside full-time now.
Apparently the first thing I did when stepping inside the house was dropping off bread and some groceries at the table we bought on our way here.
*Cue family stuff like talking with wife and kids*
The silliest part of the whole dream was the blue/yellow skyline, no clouds basically, and like, three identical cats hanging around everywhere I look outside (the gate? A cat. The backyard? Two cats. The motherfucking light post? Three goddamn cats on top of it!), bit bigger birds, little Timoth saying "FUCK!" all the time, while everyone looked for sweets in the house time by time.
Also the landscape was severly diffrent. The usual fields outside the house were wider, and a entire wood section was replaced by EVEN MOAR FIELD. Also, there was a metal pole coming out of a mountain somewhere. And a tower as well, like a 15m tall metal pole with a dish on it on a nearby hill.
The "tank" was fucking amazing to me. The design was... uuuuuhhhh... so aesthetically pleasing to look at. Yes, it was a "bucket of rust" but a very nice looking one! Reminded me of that jeep in Doom 3, but smaller wheels and bigger windows, doubled up with one wide back seat that takes up from end to end, kinda like the older cars. Plus there were railings, little "bumps", and it looks like something you could attach a 10mm Chaingun too.
Maybe later I would draw how did the family look.
And maybe, just maybe, I would write a story about this.
I got all the details in my journal already, just thought I could share this unrelevant piece of maybe-interesting info here.
Me: Shit! If I don't study I won't make it to college to study English and I will be forced to work at the boatyard!!!
Also me: *casually listens to Pumped Up Kicks*
Me: If I don't finish my paper assignment in a month I AM SCREWED!!!
Also me: *casually thinks of a plot for a novel I could be writing this summer*
Me: If I don't study, THERE WILL NO BE ANY SUMMER TO ENJOY TOO!!!
Also me: *thinks about how hot it would be this summer due to the holes in the ozone layer*
Me: ARE YOU LISTENING ME?! IF YOU DON'T STUDY AND ACE THE FINALS AND DO THE PAPER ASSIGNMENT YOU ARE GOING TO SPEND YOUR ENTIRE LIFE DIGGING HOLES!!!
Also me: *casually plays videogames*
Also me: *pauses for a second* Hmm... I thought someone was calling me. *continues procastrinating*
- Show previous comments 2 more
I love it how most of the people who I know in real life that have a 20 page assignment have either finished it or are nearly done yet whoever I meet online still hasn't done anything about their paper :D
Prompt for all fiction writers surfing the Doomworld:
Write a story about a soldier waking up on a field after being revived by a standard issue Field Unit Revival kit. The catch is, he forgot EVERYTHING, and I meaaan EVERYTHING, like how to walk, talk, breath, use the toilet, shoot, tactics, and his comrades have to walk him through everything while under suppresive fire or in a sniper's scope.
The point of this prompt would be how children would have to be drafted into war from birth should the worldwide political situation escalate.
"John Stalvern was D_RUNNIN on a battlefield, then he got hit by a palsma rifle. His right arm sparked into the air and he fell down, unable to kill. Soon Cernel Joson stopped to revive him with a FUR kit that he caried with him self, and succeeded... to some extent. John Stalvern forgot how to breath eat, wlak, tlak, sh1t, sh00t
and then he died due to lack of oxygen
Don't do that kids"
i want my nobel
Best prompt response ever.
Not a single mention of Trump or something.
Clear and straight.
Ugh not again...
My left eye got blurry and dry again.
But why the fuck does only the left eye get punishment? Is my right eye magical or something?
It is probably since I slept like 5-6 hours a night the whole week.
I remember last time I got it, I either slept in bed or contemplated life for two days straight.
Then it turned out my left eye was BETTER than the right eye, like fuck, I could almost see stuff in 3D on how good it was.
But I am not tired enough to sleep, since its morning and there is a world to conquer.
My right eye is literally going "YEAAAAH LETS RAID SOMETHING!"
While my left eye is "NO! I AM GOING ON A STRIKE! MY UNION RIGHTS WERE DRASTICALLY DISREGARDED DURING THIS WEEK AND THEREFORE I AM ONLY GOING TO SIT IN YOUR SKULL JUST BARELY SEEING SOMETHING! Other than that, nuh uh, get some sleep wiseass the world ain't gunna run away."
Ugh... I need to sleep longer... longer than 5.5 hours a night that is... 8 should be enough... but I don't want to sleep... I want to write... Uggggggghhhhhhh...
Analysis of a immature penis (meta)joke:
There is this joke that is still circulating around my parts of living. Goes like this:
"Dumb Dude made a account on facebook, it asked him to type his password. He placed in 'dick', and it said it was too short"
Today, while driving home from school, trying my hardest NOT to start blasting eurobeat and drifting (the curves are DESIGNED for drifting, and there isn't anyone at my hour!), I gave this stupid short joke a great thought.
If the Dumb Dude in question decided to put the password as "mydick", it would be exactly 6 characters long - long enough for most if not all websites.
The longer password would even be "hisdick" a one character longer. What is more morbid that "hersdick" is even longer! "hersdick" dwarfs "mydick" by TWO characters, something not even some modern supercomputers couldn't probably "brute force".
What makes every password seem small up here is "babyspenis" apparently. "babyspenis" is still longer than "mydick" or "hisdick" or "hersdick".
So the Dumb Dude probably at first wanted to put in "hisdick", but halfway through realized "hersdick" was probably longer and harder (to remember), and so he wanted something short and memorable, and realized that his "dick" is much shorter than the "babyspenis" in terms of logic and math and as such much easier to remember. But since Dumb Dude is indeed dumb, he never tought of "mydick", and Facebook finally told him that his "dick" is too short (of a password) to be effecient enough, causing such a humiliation that the rest of the folk around had almost forever memorised of the event of how even his own "dick" wasn't long enough to pass away as a decent one (password of course).
At least I didn't end up drifting and crashing myself :D
Shitty joke, I know. And yeah I even lowered my self esteem to put a shemale in the joke as well.
I want to throw away my smartphone... into a cacodemon or something...
Always some stupid fault with it. Either Google decides to capture my phone and to claim that I had stolen my own phone, or the battery keeps disconnecting from it. The damn battery even managed to bend altough I never dropped the phone nor exposed it to more than 60 degrees Celsius. Not to mention the storage issues, really bad wifi hijinks ("if you want to connect again TOO BAAD it turns out I don't wanna!"), and despite lockening it up more securely than a virgin in a tower, the damn thing fucks some shit up on its own, like how did it once decide to slow down on its own, without any issues related to performance. It is like dealing with a suicidal emo teenager with crippling anxiety.
I am seriously considering downgrading to a dumbphone or a brick even, I am tired of this Chinese bootleg I have. And with everyone complaining about how modern phones are insecure and all, I really doubt I am going to get my hands on a Samsung or something. It ain't like I even use the phone that much. Sure, I like to write a lot , but since my own suicide simulator of a phone trained me to not use it EVER (except when I call or text someone) I don't really have a problem ditching it.
Well... There is one.
I need access to Whatsapp. This study group chat I have with other four pajdaši, I still need to be part of it, especially since everyone uploads notes and dates of exams, and finals are coming up in a month or so, and as such I am in a bit of a clutch...
Hooooooo (.-_____-. )
- Show previous comments 9 more
Just buy a new battery, for god's sake. Even the better ones cost a few pennies more than a cardboard box.
There are dumbphones w/ SD cards, take a look at some Nokia Asha-s.
I've broken the USB port on my smartphone, so for the last 2 months I've been phoneless*. Life without a phone is so great. (It pisses off my parents for some reason, though.)
Though, I'll probably have to get one at some point. It'll probably be a 200X Nokia dumbphone bought on a flea market. :]
(* -- my phone actually has 2 charging ports, but broken USB ports are something I have a very strong fear of for some reason, so I'm too traumatised to still use it. Maybe I should just see a psychologist lol.)
All smartphones released after 2012 suck. Especially if they run Android. Android is such a failed abortion of a mobile OS, I have no idea how are its users still alive. I'd rather use even a goddamn iPhone, but I don't want people to think I'm gay.
Also, > 4,5 inch screens should not exist. I have no idea where does this huge screen fetish come from. That's just retarded.
One more random addition: Androids do tend to do stuff BY THEMSELVES. My dad's stuck with a BB Priv, that thing has its own logic. Goddamn Skynet in your pocket. If your pocket is large enough to fit a 6" screen in, ofc.
Never buy a Priv folks, never.
Good shit right there.
Androids DO run a lot of processes from behind, and that is what depletes batteries a lot quicker.
In any other aspect, without "training" a Android like a dog, it is pretty shit. When you learn to control the Android and stop it from doing stuff on its own, it is a very good phone :D
Thing is barely anyone has time to do so.
Which is ironic cuz the damn kids spend all the time on it hoo (im 18 and there are older kids who do tis as well), and I may sound like a cynic, but Android is good if you are looking into being a techie I guess, to figure out what ticks what, since I turned into my own phone repair serviceman with this phone and can repair other people's phones quickly enough (unless they are on fire or something then I have to dunk that stuff into a trebuchet and play "Shooting Stars" while it flies waaay over 300 meters)
I wanna be a game/script writer, not a phone repairsman.
RARE OFFICIAL FOOTAGE OF BATTLE KIRBY DOING SOMETHING USEFUL FOR HIS DOOM CAREER - LEAKED - 100% REAL - (GONE WRONG) (GONE CRINGY) - HD - CRO&ENG LANGUAGE SUPPORT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
In other terms, working hard to impress people :D
and to slack off my final paper
I might release a .txt file with the "plot" of the whole map. That is, if this thing breaks through. If not, at least I would have another Doom fanfic :D
Made a sketch like that myself, on my free hours at school, when I was bored. It surely is a lot easier to accomplish, compared to yours, but I still learned a lot of stuff, by trying to create my dream map. Anyways, good luck on this project of yours! :)
Also, I feel you. I too am so close in reaching the end of my student years. One more month damn it!!! And it will pass as slowly as it can, just to get on my nerves, limiting me from any creative activities.
Ayy, imagine getting plot bunnies every day at least once, then once you grab a keyboard you aren't supposed to be writing stories but the paper... My brain just burns up every time that happens. In the end no progress on paper nor stories either.
Short little story that was meant to be aired live on the local radio in my town. Inspired by my grandma's lack of fucks to share during a small but intense earthquake.
I've felt an intensive sensation somewhere close to my thigh. This intensive sensation is what had cancelled my afternoon nap-time. I was literally kicked awake.
"GRAMPS! Just leave us alone, they can't get us here!" I heard my older brother in the other room.
My friend, who was merely seconds ago sitting on his chair, looking out of the window, was now standing on his feet.
"BULLSHIT! We take no chances, we are going into the bunker!" My grandpa proposed a counter-argument.
Dazed a bit, still a bit grouchy from being kicked awake, I growled through my pillow.
"Just listen to Mike, gramps, he is right. They cannot enter the building, especially with the SWAT teams running around and sweeping the streets. The curfew is only related to going OUTSIDE the building, not outside the apartment itself."
My good friend Jacob, as a good friend he always was, he just stood there and stared into the skyline. We were pretty much at the top of the apartment complex, filled with desperate people as we are in this room. The entire building is barricaded, all entrances sealed, and my shift starts in a hour. Fuck, what am I going to tell Captain now? I need to assure Gramps that we are all okay before people suspect Gramps for being infected, or being a spy, or being just a dangerous loonie.
And pretty much every night is the same. Gramps kicks us awake and demands us to follow him into his "bunker", a redecorated basement space which looks more like a jail, not much more secure than just being at the top floor.
I dunked my head into my makeshift bed again, not even bothering to hear the discussion between Gramps and Mike, as I was actually wondering when in the hell do they mean to take the walls down.
I heard my Gramps at the door, raising his hands in a "I-give-up" manner, and just yelled out so that the entire floor can hear.
"FINE! If you want to get your guts dragged out and your carcasses torn apart, so be it! Just don't come rushing at my bunker when you get bit, I don't need more bodies at my door when the barricades fall down!"
"Good night Grandpa!" Mike concluded the discussion.
In half a hour, I am supposed to dress up, go downstairs and report to Captain the machine-room-turned-armory, grab my Walther PPK, some mags, some popcorn and soda and just sit by the main entrance and watch the SWAT guys kick some zombie ass. Ever since the internet connection to the building had slowed down, this had became my new anime. Frankly, my only task during their routine visit to the block would be making sure they don't get overrun and provide a shelter should they get outnumbered. In three months, this happened only two times. Both times no one got infected, but the poor citizens had to make the curb clean of the bodies and swipe up all the blood and guts away. A clean curb is a usual sign that there are people still inside, and it wouldn't be smart experimenting with guns or expecting to breach and clear the entire place. This happened a dozen of times, these cases of "friendly fire". I really doubt a team of SWAT guys would be confused after the first kill, but in their defenses, all they ever say is " There wuz sum blud and guts on the front doo'. We taught the whole place was a goner, and we did the community a favor, I'm shur!"
I finally got up, as my friend was still silent.
"What's the matter man?" I asked him.
He just stood silent for a second, and slowly turned. I backed away, thinking my good friend Jacob got infected and had took the opportunity to turn into one of them just as I was lazing around in my bed.
Finally, he spoke. Those things never speak.
"I think Claudia doesn't want to be with me anymore. I think we are going to break up." he informed me coldly of his opinion.
"She has been talking about visiting her aunt for a while..."
"Pfft, so? What is the problem?"
"I never told her that she forgot that she told me her aunt was dead for a while."
Oh crap. This can mean several stuff. Either she is cheating with him, or she is being suicidal, or she just went plain insane.
"She packed all of her stuff and took away on the train at noon, going to visit her long-dead aunt. Heh, this sounds like a bad break-up song." he smiled at his own joke, something he hasn't done in a while.
I had just finished buckling up my "security armor" a set of plates sewn into a workie suit. He gave a intense stare at the skyline again.
He said: "I was meant to have a kid with her. I really doubt she is telling the truth. Who knows, maybe she has two aunts, one alive, and one dead... I am through with relationships for now... I have decided to join the SWATs. That way, if she was sincere with me all the time, my work would pay off, and we could get married and start a family in one of the bigger cribs at the north. If she wasn't... well, at least I would be doing the community a favor"
Gulp. That is what every bad apple says. Don't get me wrong, SWATs are good guys. It is just that... well, the times are hard, and they always accept new recruits,with no time to properly check their psyche. So it is not unusual to have some heavily armed nutjob storm a place, mistaking all the clean refugees for actual infectees, one .45 bullet at the time, once in a while.
I carefully chose my next words, but before I could even start, he intercepted me:
"I am going to wait with you until the SWAT guys come, they will pick me up, unload me at their station, and they will make the entire community more grateful to me. Whaddya think?"
Shit! The situation is escalating way too fast! I need to think quickly!
"Can't do tonight. It is your turn to do the dishes. Maybe tommoro---"
"NO! The earlier I apply, the earlier I can be a real hero!"
"Its Tuesday. They don't come by at Tuesdays"
"Don't fuck with me, today is Wednesday! And they drop by every evening!"
"Their van is too tight for refugees---"
"I AM NOT A REFUGEE! I AM A RECRUIT!"
It had been a while since I sweated properly. Jacob is giving me a hard time here. More hard than Gramps with regards to lunch.
Sadly, I don't have much time to defuse the situation by myself. Something, or someone must help me.
I considered multiple options, most of them being Mike calming Jacob down with tea. Until then, I had apparently forgot about the flyer the SWAT guys staple around. Most importantly, some SWAT guy dropped me a handler one evening. It was a old manual for potential SWAT recruits, back before this whole thing started.
I knew Jacob ever since I was a kid. There was always one thing Jacob always hated. Exams.
I almost smugged thinking about my next move.
"Alright, since you are so keen on becoming a SWAT dude, here is a manual every Watchman like me gets issued with, to give unto the new potential recruit. You know, SWAT deals with a lot of things these days..." I told him, giving him a manual I kept in a loose cupboard. "There are TONS of guys like you looking to apply, and they can't give their sub-machine guns or heavy pistols to every fool. No, there is a EXAM everyone has to pass through!"
"Yes indeed! While Watchmen and Militia might accept you easily, the SWAT aren't so... giving... as the others. Oh no indeed! They are the top baby! Only a notch lower than the Military itself! You are going to have to score at least 90% percent to be even CONSIDERED a potential candidate."
"Not to mention the talks, the medical and psycho exams, and the trial by combat!"
"Yes. So if you want to dine along the kings, you better grab the book and study! Also, make sure to get used to some exercise regimens, for you have to be at the top of the top of your physical strength to match THEIR standards!"
I heard him gulp. Now it was his turn to sweat. He started shaking his head left and right.
"Listen, I gotta go, my shift starts soon. There is the book. Once you consider your choices, you don't have to keep me around to tell you what to do"
He sat down in front of the window, thinking. I turned around, saw Mark outside his room, as I winked to him so that he doesn't try to "correct" me once I leave.
"Good night guys. Sleep tight, and don't let the zombies bite!" I told them right at the doorstep.
"With people like you, we can only sleep, really..." Mark moaned before I finally closed the door.
Dropped the story here cuz why not. Now you can see why this one didn't make it on air.
Me: I should really work on my final paper.
Creative Urges: Good story plot! Like a pro-procastrinaaaator has to finish---
Me: No, I really mean it. My future depends on it!
Creative Urges: Sounds like a good time-traveling jokes.
Me: I'm serious!
Creative Urges: You should continue writing that stupid fic you started last night.
Me: Fair enough. I cannot let my plot bunnies run away!
Creative Urges: Gooood, let the procastrination flow through you... >:)
tfw you want to be a great doomer and pump out maps all the time but finals keep getting in the way.
and tfw you learn today that a troll who gets paid has less likes on his fb page than you :D
(shameless advert, should get super banned quickly I guess :/ )
*sets up camera*
My first map (that the world is going to see) hereby known as bkpublicmap.wad (or something along these lines) is going preetty fine!
Learned new tricks while at it. Basic plot coming up soon.
Only thing I can say it involves multi-parallel-dimensional drifting through next five consencutive hairpins.
BIG WARNING UP FRONT: This post contains teenage drama, potential cringe energy splashes, and pathetic attempts at humor. You may feel a need to laugh, to mock, or dizziness. OP now assumes you have been warned properly. If you don't like this stuff, feel free to leave. If you like this stuff, sit down and listen.
I know I am a newbie around these parts of the internet, and I know you may or may not feel sympathy for me because of that. But still, I can try right?
And yeah, today for me, it was nearly a perfect Friday. I drew a portrait of this person in my dream, I did my schoolwork properly, the weather was good, and I had time to go to this rock music bar with some of my gang (usually a event reserved for Fridays). Usually they talk with the bartender about World of Tanks, and since I don't play online games anymore, I go to the back room with all the instruments(a set of drums, three electric guitars, a bass guitar, and a synthesizer which I cannot find a cable for) and play on the old Czech piano sitting by the wall.
I can say I am a self-taught piano player. I have learned to play most of the Doom soundtrack on the piano, with my best piece being E1M1, either the slow melodic version or the fast paced ragtime version. I experiment with other songs, and the back room is usually empty during the day (real players come by evening or somewhere before noon), so I have all the peace and quiet I need to experiment and practice with.
There is another regular that visits the place often. And I always wanted to meet her.
Same age as me (probably a year younger), a transferred student from across the country, and kind of wacky, if we judge by style of walking, talking, and dressing. Always clad in a Adidas tracksuit, occasionally with two ponytails or none. Quite loud, probably a bit of a troublemaker, and today she brought over a laptop to the bar and was playing CoD WaW, strangely all over to the back room because the bartender complained about all the violent sounds coming from the laptop (and she couldn't bring a headset somehow).
Oh, this is where things get spicy, right? Usually at this point in YA fiction we greet and meet and that proves to be a major plot point or something. Well, this is reality after all, and a minute after she was set up on the couch, it was like no one existed for anyone. I continued playing on the piano, and she played on the laptop.
And like a weirdo I am, I play my best pieces in hope of impressing her. Note I haven't actually made any move or said anything, I just honky-tonked some complicated notes on the piano, hoping for that chance that the next line would be "Hey, that sounds familiar!", but it wasn't.
I moved from Doom to Wolfenstein. Seeing no success there, I tried playing some popular metal songs (on a goddamn piano), like Metallica's No Remorse, Fade to Black and whatever popped up in my head, hoping for her to look up and notice me playing a song or whatever.
Why did I bother with playing complicated pieces? Because I suck at interactions, I suck so goddamn hard, I wonder how the foxtrot did I manage to get some friends in the first place. I cannot simply walk up to someone, and start a chatter without some excuse, like "Hey dude, can you tell me...?" and from there I would go all like my momma, talk up stuff, ask, praise God for figuring stuff out, usual stuff.
I had no pick-up line this afternoon.
Wanna know something much more cringey? I didn't want a girlfriend or to sleep with her or some normal shit, I just wanted to be friends, get to meet her, see what she likes, trade info, hobbies and whatnot. Because I have this philosophy in my head, which favors making friends out of unusual or otherwise quite interesting people. Some of my best friends are special cases in themselves. Like the guy who listens to Sabaton mid-class and doesn't give less of a fuck for anyone hearing him. Or the guy who draws super amazing portraits of people but cannot find inspiration and doesn't want to try out new stuff (unlike me, who has to dip his hands into every possible art branch). Heck, my most "normal" friend is a looker of a man (honestly, he looks like he had dropped out of anime, but somehow he had never heard of anime, and has two girlfriends). So yeah, she would make a nice friend to me. Heck, I don't even know her name.
So yeah, this could have been a perfect Friday in my opinion, if I only had guts to start a conversation. Eventually one of the gang grabbed me because I overplayed and would probably miss my bus. I paid for my coffee, and left, feeling incredibly angry at myself for being such a damn coward. I could have made a interesting friend. Heck, even if she turned out to be a cacodemon of a teenage girl, at least I would feel glad for overcoming the barrier and learning how to properly interact with people.
Rant time over.
A VERY BIG NOTICE: You have reached the end of the post. Hazmat equipment not required anymore. Thank you and have a safe day.
- Show previous comments 13 more
definitely it's easier than it was. Wearing the adidas tracksuit? man, if you ever cooked your memes on a spoon and injected them like a legit so-and-so, you'd have known to take the squat stance and make a sideways compliment of the fashion
god, the fact the person was playing FPS games in public with the tracksuit, that's like an imitatable meme by itself you just invented
Hypnotise her and tell her to be your friend as you snap your fingers, works every time.
I know its a dead meme and whatnot, but just imagine it.
Take a wad like Ghoul Forest 3, and replace all the horrifiying assets and creatures with the Robbie Rotten and his army. To me it makes perfect sense and sounds like a shitton of fun.
Just imagine playing as Sportadoomguy, throwing balls and dodging nets and banana peels, until Robbie Rotten sedates you and then in the second map you have to escape from a underground base with Robbies around every corner looking for Sportadoomguy. You escape the dungeon, and the third map has you in a final showdown against Robbie Rotten, and you have to use a cannon to dispatch him or to tear off massive amounts of health.
I know Ghoul Forest has only one map, but the fight against Robbies shouldn't just be limited to one boring park map. Bonus points if the game is still terrifiyng as shit even if you add all the silly stuff in.
I know it sounds like shit, but if the Mine Song got a playable wad, well...?
- Show previous comments 4 more
You've been mentioning Rule 34 significantly recently. Eh.
But seriously, what does that sentence even mean? Just search it on a Rule 34 site like you would search websites on Google.
Rule 34 makes porn of everything, doomworld makes wads of everything.
That's my philosophy for today, thank you for your time.