Not much to say about myself. I am somewhat of a hermit, rarely venturing outside. The sun and I had a falling out about 24 years ago. I got all the bad Irish traits from the gene pool; pale skin, addictive personality, anger issues, etc..
Yesterday, after I'd finished a nutritious lunch of Popeye's fried chicken, I began texting a friend of mine. It started as simply one of those grandiose but ultimately silly, and pointless ramblings we do to each other from time to time; but after I got the first two texts off something compelled me to take it a step further.
The result is that for the past two days I've been running a sort of "texting text adventure" for him. Nothing about it is planned out aside from maybe a general thread of where I might take him next, and each of my texts is a reaction to the choices he makes.
I doubt I'm the first person to do something like this, and in fact I wouldn't be surprised if I'm about to stumble on to a vast, hidden internet community that does this kind of thing all the time. I thought, however, that I would share the results here because I find it all rather curious and exciting; I hope that you all will as well.
I'll post the texts here when I feel the game has advanced far enough, that we've hit a natural stopping point, or if there's been a particularly busy day. I guess we'll just see how it goes.
I don't have a name for the game, since this is all being made up on the fly via texts, so I was wondering if anyone here might have suggestions.
Without further delay though, here's the first text archive, posted below. Narration are my texts, and Answer are my friend's texts, these always denote a single text message sent. Nothing has been edited, save for a few typos, in the transfer from text messages to, err, text.† Enjoy!
Narration: Can you feel the prism watching us? Soon the age of the eighth color shall begin, and all the great works of angel, demon, and man shall be undone by the coming of the prism and its elder pantheon of spectral lieutenants.
Narration: Only he who wields the Black Mirror of Andromeda has the power to stand against The Prism, but it has long since been lost amid the Pillars of Creation, during the great war between Olympus and Asgard.
Narration: Your journey begins in the desolate lands that were once the Elysium Fields. Where once a paradise for pure souls existed, there is now only a vast, unforgiving realm. Without its master, Hades, lost souls now wander the realm seeking purpose and an eternal rest they shall never be granted. You are one such lost soul who wanders listless through the wastes; hungry but never starving; thirsty but never quenched; exhausted and unable to rest. You see movement on the horizon, rarely a good sign. You look around for something to defend yourself with and spy a rusted sword, a gnarled wooden staff, and a bow tied to a quiver with 10 arrows in it. Which do you choose?
Answer: Rusted sword
Narration: The weight of the blade, and cracked leather of the hilt feels "right" in your hand; like a feeling only scarcely remembered from a long forgotten dream.
Rusted Sword - 2 damage, equipped
To see your inventory or equipped items at any time simply text either word.
Narration: Your intuition was correct, approaching you from the north is a group of 3 demons, imps of the 9th circle, who are tormenting a haggard looking satyr. The imp that holds the chain to the collar around his neck yanks on it occasionally, and his companions kick the satyr and poke him with their crude bone daggers; they squeal in delight at his pain.
They haven't spotted you yet. Do you stand and confront them, or seek a hiding place to ambush them from?
Answer: Hiding place
Narration: The barren landscape offers little in the way of hiding places, but you spot a boulder that just might be big enough to hide you. You crouch down behind it and wait for your chance as the imps approach.
"Move faster goat man!" cries the one holding the chain as he pokes the satyr in the backside with his dagger.
"Tired he looks," says one of the others.
"We should kill him here, no use to the master could he ever be," says the third as he fondles the dagger in his hand
The one holding the chain, the ringleader you surmise, smacks the third imp hard enough to stagger him, "This one lives, master's orders."
The second imp smashes a fist into the satyr's back and cackles as the poor creature falls to his knees, "Living the master wants him, yes, but in what condition he failed to say. Payback we owe him for killing our two brothers when captured."
"Our fun must wait, angry the master will be if we do not return on time," says the one holding the chain, "I won't be whipped because of you," he delivers a hard kick to the satyr's ribs.
The other two cackle and join in the kicking, and the one with the chain begins to pull on it so hard he's close to dragging the satyr across the ground.
What do you do?
Answer: Attack the lead imp
Narration: With the fiercest cry you can muster you leap from your hiding spot and charge the imp holding the chain. You shock him and his allies enough that your sword finds its mark with devastating effect, and his head tumbles from his shoulders; leaving his body a macabre, twitching fountain of blood on the ground.
His allies recover from their shock and attack you from head on, their crude bone daggers drawn and aiming for you.
The imp to your left, Imp #1, swings his dagger at you, but you manage to swat him away with your sword.
The imp to your right, Imp #2 takes advantage of the opening in your defense and sinks his dagger into your thigh, dealing 1 damage.
"Another lost soul for the master, most pleased he will be," you hear him say.
"But pay for killing our brother first, you will," says the other.
Imp #1 has 5/5 HP left
Imp #2 has 5/5 HP left
You have 19/20 HP remaining
What do you do?
Answer: I attack imp #2
Narration: You swing your sword in retaliation at Imp #2, and cut a long gash across his chest; dealing 2 damage.
Imp #2 cries in pain and leaps away from you, clawing at the gash with his hand, "It burns," he cries, and indeed the wound seems to be sizzling slightly.
Imp number one charges and leaps on to your back, slashing at your back wildly as you try to shake him off, and deals 3 damage in the process.
The satyr on the ground moans.
Imp #1 has 5/5 HP left
Imp #2 has 3/5 HP left
You have 16/20 HP remaining.
What do you do?
Answer: I stab at imp #2 to finish it off
Narration: With Imp #2 still clawing at its wound, you move in for the kill. You're stopped, however, when Imp #1, still on your back, sinks his dagger deep into your shoulder; causing 1 damage.
"Stop poking your wound and help me," yells Imp #1.
"But it burns! Burns like the iron of the feathered ones," Imp #2 whines.
The satyr has begun to weakly crawl his way over to the boulder where you'd been hiding.
Imp #1 has 5/5 HP left
Imp #2 has 3/5 HP left
You have 15/20 HP remaining.
Answer: I slam my back into the boulder too try to crush the imp
Narration: Your grip on the sword weakens as you reel from the pain in your shoulder. Enraged, you rush towards the boulder you hid behind, and turn your back to it at the last second.
Your sword clatters to the ground in the impact.
There's a sickening crack as the spine of Imp #1 shatters, and the malefic creature slides limp from his perch; you can hear a faint wheezing as he struggles to breathe.
Imp #2 has gotten over the pain of his wound and rushes you.
The satyr reaches the boulder. Seeing the dying imp on the ground he takes the dagger that fell beside it and puts the vile thing out if its misery.
Imp #1 has 0/5 HP left and is dead.
Imp #2 has 3/5 HP left
You have 15/20 HP remaining.
Answer: I grab the chain on the satyr & swing it at the imp
Narration: There's no time to recover your sword, so you grab the next closest thing, the satyr's chain. You whip the chain at the charging imp twice, and on the second swing it finds purchase. It wraps itself the imp's neck, and catches his raised arm, holding the dagger, awkwardly in the loop.
The satyr grunts as the chain goes taut when you throw it, and his head is jerked.
The imp stumbles and falls to the ground, taking 1 damage. "Mercy," the imp cries in a panic, "spares us and we'll make it worth your while."
"Ashes and ruin are the only worth your words have, imp," the satyr whispers hoarsely.
"You speak lies, filthy goat-man! Spare us, and help deliver the goat-man to my master, and rewarded you will be."
"Don't be a fool, stranger, he wishes only to deliver the both of us into his master's clutches."
Imp #1 has 0/5 HP left and is dead
Imp #2 has 2/5 HP left
You have 15/20 HP remaining.
Answer: I pick up the sword & jam it into the imp's skull
Narration: You retrieve your sword from the ground, and a spike of pain flashes through your shoulder at its weight; you grimace and place your free hand over the oozing wound.
A glimmer of hope flashes through the imp's eyes as you walk over and lift your sword, but as it comes down not on the chain but his head, that hope turns to horror.
You've thrown all of your weight behind the thrusting motion, to compensate for your impaired arm, and the sword is impaled through the imp's skull and into the ground; it is covered in blood, bone fragments, and brain matter when you pull it out.
Imp #1 has 0/5 health left and is dead
Imp #2 has 0/5 health left and is dead
You have 15/20 health remaining and are victorious!
What would you like to do?
Answer: I ask the satyr why they captured him
Narration: "I would be happy to explain how I ended up a prisoner of such foul creatures," begins the satyr, "but first I would ask that you remove this infernal collar. There is an enchantment on it that saps my strength, and it makes even speech a very exhausting chore." He fiddles with the collar around his neck, "I believe the one holding the chain had the keys to it."
Answer: I get the keys & free him
Narration: You walk over to the headless corpse of the lead imp, search him, and find the keys tucked away in the meager breeches he wore.
With the satyr's collar unlocked he stands, and vigorously scratches his neck.
"Oh that's much better," he exclaims,"I've been trying to get at that itch for hours! He hops slightly from one hoof to the other, "and it seems my strength is already beginning to return!"
You cough in an attempt to gain his attention.
"Oh but that's right you had questions," he stretches to his full height and bows with a flourish, "Thiboctetes, at your service, but you may call me just Thib.
"I was delivering vital information from my lady, Persephone, to a village of harpies, hidden in the mountains just west of here." He kicks the corpse of the imp he'd stabbed, "I was nearly there when this bunch ambushed me. I suspect their master intended to capture a messenger and pry the village's location out of them.
"Likely they'd have gotten that information had you not burst from the rocks like a deranged mad man when you did," he glances at the aftermath of the battle and then at gore on your sword, "the ferocity of mortals never ceases to amaze me.
"Enough of my story, I wish to know a bit more about my savior."
You want to tell him about yourself, but you have wandered the wastes for so long that you scarcely remember anything about your past.
Thib notices your furrowing brows and crestfallen eyes, "Ah but yes, you're a wandering soul, I should hardly expect your memory to still be intact; do not trouble yourself trying to remember. At the very least there must be something you prefer to be called, a name perhaps?"
A name, there's something like a that sitting on the tip of your tongue. What is it?
Narration: It's on the tip of your tongue, if only you could loose the word and speak it.
Alas, it's lost to you, your name, the wastes have effected your memory like...like... You glance down at the sword in your hand.
"Rust," you mumble.
Yes, like rust on a sword. Your memory still exists, but it has rusted and began to crumble.
"What was that," asks Thib.
"Rust," you reply, "You can call me Rust."
Thib rubs his chin, "An odd name for a mortal, but I am indebted to you, 'Rust'. If you allow me to take you to the harpy village, I can see to it you're given healing for your wounds and ferried on to a much more amenable place for mortal souls than the Elysium Wastes."
Do you go with Thib, or do you strike out into the wastes on your own.
Answer: I go with Thib
I purchased Adventure Time: Card Wars today and I am very displeased by the inclusion of an energy meter that can lock me out of playing a game I paid $4 for.
I am currently locked out of said game and have decided that each time I get locked out of it that I will make a post on the facebook and twitter pages of its developer Kung Fu Factory, D3 Publisher, and Cartoon Network.
In an attempt to bring attention to this bullshit being put into a paid for game, as in I paid money up front and it is not free-to-play, I will also make a blog post here each time as well.
This may seem like a small thing not worth getting in an uproar over, but we as consumers should not let this stand. This kind of pure exploitative greed will only spread if we do not cause each level of game creation, the developer, the publisher, and in this case the company that commissioned it, know that we will not tolerate the products we pay for being ransomed by micro-transactions like some throw away free-to-play game.
Please let all three of these companies know on their twitter, and facebook pages that this type of business practice is unacceptable.
For twitter please use either #LockedOutofCardWars or #CardWars to unify things.
Thereís an article up on Wired (http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2013/12/david-agus-rules-to-live-longer/ ) thatís about advice for living longer from Steve Jobís own doctor. The cynic in me laughs at that notion since our dearest Steve died at an early age. Thereís some rumblings in the comments about him convincing Steve to use holistic medicine instead of real medicine, and thus responsible for him succumbing to cancer. I honestly donít know anything about that, and donít really care, but I figured I should poke fun at the select ďRules to Live (Longer) ByĒ that wired listed alongside the article. Wired has not put the rules in sequential order, so neither will I.
Rule 29: Smile. ďThe act itself will trigger the release of pain-killing, brain-happy endorphins and serotonin.Ē †
I gave this one a shot, since Iíve currently got a splitting headache due to lack of sleep/eye-strain,†and while I did feel momentarily happy I believe a fist full of Advil and Tylenol with a diet coke chaser will get the job done better.
Rule 2: Measure yourself. ďYou might want to consider adding a tracking app or device of some kind to your life.Ē †
Thatís not advice, thatís at best advertising and at worst a conspiracy for the NSA to start tracking exactly how fat the US really is.
Rule 37: Eat more than three servings of cold-water fish a week.
Iím no angler, but Iím pretty sure bodies of water capable of supporting populations of fish are already cold. They may as well say to eat cows that come from a farm.
Rule 21: Inquire about statins if youíre over-the-hill. †
Iíd google what ďstatinsĒ are, but I think Iíll wait till Iím 40 and the doctor is knuckle deep up my ass.
Rule 59: Avoid stilettos and other sneaky sources of inflammation. Wear comfortable shoes. †
Well, I donít think I need too worry about that unless I have to attend an event that forces me to wear loafers, or I enter into an amateur drag queen competition.
Rule 5: Eat real food. †
Heís right about this one. The ďNeverlandĒ diet I learned from Hook has so far only made me fat, as I seem to imagine feasts where buffalo wings and twinkies are the only things served.
Rule 31: Be positive. †
Rule 57: Avoid Sunburns †
Never going outsides is the only way to ďavoidĒ sunburns; otherwise youíre just sort of implementing damage control. Itís cool though, Iíll just use my tanning bed in order to get that godly-bronzed look. If itís not the actual sun itís technically not a sunburn afterall.
Rule 56: Avoid airport backscatter x-ray scanners. Until science can prove the safety of such machines, Iíll be requesting the manual pat-down massage when I go through the TSAís gateway at airports. You should too. †
Thanks, but Iíll take the risk of cancer over having Earl thoroughly fondle my crotch as he searches me.
Not just any dollar though, I found a really old one from 1957! I found it while sorting out singles to do laundry, so the odds are good it came from the register of a fast food restaurant.
Curious if I had just stumbled on one of those antique roadshow type gold mines, I went to Google.
Holy crap, I think google might have me bugged; I'll deal with that security breach later. At any rate it turns out it's only worth about $1.50.
The bill itself brings up an interesting question though. Since it certifies that there is at least one dollar of silver in the US treasury, and that it is payable on demand to me, the bearer, does that mean I can get the government to give me a dollar's worth of silver?
Probably not, but the confusion of the tellers would be worth it to walk into a bank dressed like the monopoly man and ask for the silver the bill grants me.
(I would have resized the images, but destructoid doesn't seem to want to allow it even if using the insert image function in the text editor)
The Final Fantasy franchise is recognized by gamers across the globe and, for the most part, is synonymous with a quality RPG experience. However, you may or may not be familiar with the story of how the franchise's name came about.
Prior to the birth of the franchise, Square Co., known today as SquareEnix, was a struggling game company that saw very little success. After producing a few unsuccessful games its then president, Hironobu Sakaguchi, decided that he would retire from the video game industry, but not before making one last game. That last game, he decided, would be a fantasy rpg; thus the game was titled Final Fantasy.
Since it's Japanese release in 1987, Final Fantasy has been re-released six times on six different platforms. Each subsequent release improved on graphics and gameplay, ensuring that it remained palatable for the gaming public to pick it up as the industry grew.
A little about this stream:
I have never actually played a Final Fantasy game in it's entirety, (I cheated to reach the end of X) though I have spent much time playing a smattering of the different titles.
Last week I stumbled into a small journey of learning how to stream video games to the internet, and after much deliberation I decided that the original Final Fantasy for the NES would be a perfect game to get my feet wet with.
If you'd like to join me as I venture into unfamiliar territory, and bear with the inevitable hiccups I'm bound to encounter, I would once again like to extend an invitation for you to join me tonight on my first stream.
-EDIT- The stream is now over. I'd like to thank anyone from Destructoid who came out to watch. I'll be doing another stream some time this week, so keep your eyes open for an update. A more set schedule will be coming soon.
Here's a link to the recording of last night's stream for anyone who's interested.
How are you? Were the police a little too rough when they arrested you?
We share something in common after your short-live attempt today to reenact the "No Russian" sequence from that one Call of Duty game. Hard to believe I know, what could a neck bearded denizen of the internet possibly share in common with a deluded psychopath?
It's not the gnomes which live in our pillowcases that whisper dark things into our ears at night, or that the government implanted tracking devices into our gums when our wisdom teeth were removed. No, what you and I share in common is that both of our plans for next weekend were ruined.
You see, while your plans for next weekend no doubt involved uncovering mysteries of what happens after death; mine involved traveling home to visit friends, family, and going to see Thor: The Dark World. The best laid plans of mice and men, as they say.
Now, I'm sure you're wondering to yourself what any of that has to do with you, and how exactly you can avoid becoming Bubba's bitch when they cart you off to the county prison. I can't help you with the second question because I've never been to prison, but the first question I can answer in great detail.
I am a college student, and like some college students I participate in academic workshops for credit hours. This particular weekend I was scheduled to attend one that was being taught by a speaker who needed to travel from LA to where I attend school. Your poorly executed hissy-fit resulted in the airport she was flying out of, LAX, to be shut down. As a result her flight was cancelled and the workshop has been rescheduled for next weekend, Saturday and Sunday from 9 AM - 5 PM.
If you haven't put the pieces together yet, my deranged little bandido, you are directly responsible for this sudden shift in my schedule. While I wager that causing a ripple effect of chaos was an item on your checklist for today, I doubt that one of your goals was to be awarded a spot high atop my personal Shit List.
Yes, in one fell swoop you have destroyed my plans for not one but two weekends. This weekend I can still salvage, and is not what earned you such an honor. Next weekend, however, is gone, kaput, dead as that TSA agent you shot today.
It's a pity you chose California for your venue, as the hippies will never give you the death penalty. Did you not have the balls to do it in say, Dallas because you knew the locals were armed to the tooth, or because their death row is incredibly efficient? I suppose it doesn't matter.
What does matter, is that you understand how I will now seek out my own vengeance.
Likely you're going to receive life in prison without parole, provided you don't kill yourself when the guards aren't watching. In the event that you don't wuss out like the cowardly turd you are, you'll get to enjoy the fine benefits of the United State prison system. You'll have three hot meals a day, a warm bed at night, daily exercise, access to a very robust long-distance education system, and sufficient health-care.
I'm of the mind-set that, that's letting you off too easy, so here's what I'm gonna do. I am going to slowly and methodically chip away at your sanity, well the sanity you have left anyway. From now until the end of your natural life, every niggling annoyance you suffer on a day to day basis will have been caused by me. Whenever there's a hair in your food, the shower is cold, a rock in your shoe, or Bubba's bottle of lube goes missing; it was me. Every single inconvenience that could be chalked up to chance, that is me exacting my vengeance. You won't be able to turn around without an insignificant yet still very annoying thing happen to you.
And when you are old and grey; and I finally break you. You will cry out for the systematic torture to end, not a single person will believe you, and you are left a shuddering shell of a man who cowers at the sound of a squeaky door hinge; then, and only then, will you truly understand the extent of my wrath.
Today you have made an enemy the likes of which your pathetic mind could scarcely conceive of. You have set into motion a series of events that will deliver you unto the darkest depths of madness from which there is no escape; hence forth your life will be a nightmare unending.
In your darkest hours, when it seems the madness will consume you completely, I want you to remember six little words that sum up your punishment.