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WHERE THE HELL IS THIS GUY!?
The Art Gorge!
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PROMOTED C-BLOGS!
- When videogames put it in you.
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HERE, HAVE SOME ART!
(Requests closed! For now!)
- 06.17.2010

CHIPTUNES!
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WHO THE HELL IS THIS GUY!?
I like tacos. I also like video games, but I like tacos more. If that's a problem for you then you can GTFO.

I'm a roasted turkey sandwich currently living in the Bay Area, California. I make art [and sometimes music], sometimes having to do with video games and sometimes not. I've been gaming since I was around 3, so it's safe to say if I don't play video games I might spontaneously combust like some unholy abomination. Which is what I am.

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As you may know, this weekend was the Worldwide NARP. People went around and NARP'd with other people, who in turn NARP'd while NARPing their big, juicy NARP-NARPs. It was a very large NARPogy of NARPic proportions. NARP.

On and off for about two years I've been a reclusive, grumpy hermit, scoffing at the outside world like it had waved its genitals in my face while singing old Cher songs. Despite how much I wallowed in my reclusiveness, I always yearned to become social again. After all, I used to spend many a day and night socializing and “kicking it” with my, how hip people say, “homies”. These “homies” are across the state, however, and I have yet to acquire a second group of “homies” that live closer due to my lack of real job or enrollment in school where most friendships develop. Because I totally make friends easily. So, when I heard about the glorious Worldwide NARP, I felt as if I had been given another shot at becoming social again. Rather than being a reclusive, grumpy hermit, I would become a reclusive, grumpy ex-hermit who knows a lot more people than he did before probably. So I hopped aboard the Bay Area Rapid Transit, determined to make my first big NARP the best NARP on the face of the NARPing NARPlanet.

When traveling to the San Francisco meet-up, I passed the house about three times. I was searching for yellow doors, and I saw no yellow doors. Where were the yellow doors? What was a man to do with no yellow doors? Had my GPS navigation system failed me? Had I suddenly come down with an incurable brain-eating disease that didn't enable me to see or think straight? No, it was none of those things. The um...The doors were open.

I was like a puppy trying to swim up a waterfall.

When I first entered, I immediately noticed a couple of familiar faces, like Bleach Boy who I knew was going to be there. It was strange, seeing faces I had only seen in still-images on my computer. Then I noticed that nearly everyone in the room had paused to stare at me. What was I supposed to do? A victory pose? Interpretive dance? Perhaps erotic strip-tease? I did an awkward wave and then quickly followed Tactix about the place as he gave me a tour. I met Hamza for the first time, and I couldn't help but stare at him creepily because internet. Then I watched people rape a Native American girl while they sang Disney music. I nodded in approval.

I made my way back to the kitchen with Tactix. He offered me some alcohol, I offered an apology, he gave me Pepsi One instead, I gave a thumbs up. Of course I'm not a huge fan of Pepsi One, but in a house filled with alcohol it was the only beverage I could bare the taste of. At least Tactix didn't give me the Eye of Disapproval. I think.



I ended up back in the main room where people were playing Rock Band. I was offered chips, got mauled by the cutest dog ever, and played the quiet game. Little did I know that I would be playing that game a lot as the night progressed.

I started seeing more familiar faces, like AznHeadbanger, Stella Wong, Rey Gutierrez, and some others I can't place. I remember passing Stella in the hallway, and she looked at me with this expression of perplexed horror on her face. I must have grown horns out of my nose and unknowingly summoned Yog-Sothoth to grind the Earth into bits. That's the only explanation. It's okay, Stella. I put the Necronomicon back where I found it. I swear, I'm not that scary.



Most of my time was spent wandering around. I'd lost track of the people I was familiar with, partially because they were drunk, partially because they preferred to hang out with more social people, and partially because they were still completely new people to me.

I played a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. Brawl using the classic-controller. As you would guess, I didn't last very long. No GameCube controller, no win. But it was fun nonetheless. It reminded me of hanging out with my Orange County friends, back when all we did was play Brawl all day. Then I snapped to reality and my stomach churned when I realized that I had no idea who these people were.

I felt bad. Why couldn't I approach anyone and hold a normal conversation? No one was trying to strangle me and poop in my mouth. No one was shouting “NOOB!” and sacrificing me to Samael. Then what was it? What made me different than all of the extroverts frolicking about the place? Oh, right. Parties. I had completely forgot. After two years of vampirism, two years of shunning the light and yet wondering if the social world still had room for me, I had forgotten my distaste for large, rowdy gatherings. The loud noises, the crowded rooms, the smell of stale alcohol, the strange looks you get when people notice how out of place you are. I had never enjoyed large parties, even before taking up the hermit lifestyle. I had always been one for small gatherings of close friends, riding around town at 3am, avoiding crowds like the plague.

This isn't to say that the people partying that night were in the wrong. On the contrary, they were in the right. And so was I. Everyone has a different lifestyle. Some prefer to crush beer cans over their heads and dance, others prefer to kick back and relax. When I remembered that, I did just that: Kicked back and relaxed.

I watched people play the Scott Pilgrim game, which looked amazing. I didn't play because I'd rather wait until the 360 release. Then, after watching CrimeMinister beat Hamza's spectacular rape score in Custer's Revenge (It's not often you see an entire group of people cheering someone on as they rape a helpless girl), I broke out my sketchbook and failed at drawing due to lack of concentration. Must have been thinking about rape too much. But apparently my horns had retreated back into my head, because Stella complimented my artwork drunkenly. That meant a lot, since she's happily married to Mikey Turvey (don't question it) who happens to be 400x better at art than me. Then again...Stella was drunk. Tactix complimented my art as well, but I'm kind of attributing that to his extroverted need to converse with introverted people. He's a pretty cool guy who doesn't afraid of social interaction.

I ended up playing Custer's Revenge and Megaman 2 until about 3am. Rape, robots, rape, robots, rape, robots, rape, robots, rape, dragons, robots, dying five dozen times, rape. I eventually said good night to the people in the room, who either didn't hear me or didn't want to (I have a tendency to do the Grumpy Mumble), and went downstairs to get my blanket out of Tactix's room so I could go to sleep.

The room was locked.



Well, fuck. I went to the living room and looked around, trying to remember if the floor was carpeted or not. Maybe I could use the carpet as—It didn't matter, because there was no space to sleep whatsoever. I was so tired that I gave thought to just jumping into the bed that was there and either launching the people sleeping there off or using them as blankets and/or pillows. But no, I instead headed to the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen. I took my jacket off and sat down, leaning against the oven, eyes wide open. I continued leaning against the oven, eyes wide open. At 4:30 I was still leaning against the oven, eyes wide open. Fed up and shivering uncontrollably, I crawled drowsily toward the living room and collapsed halfway out of the kitchen. I used my arms as a pillow and my body forced itself to shut down. The music from Custer's Revenge that had been stuck in my head all day faded away into black, like everything else around me.




I awoke at around 7am, still shivering. I sat there for a while, hoping I could go back to sleep, but I couldn't. I got up and, trying not to trip over people in the living room and squash them beneath my hulkish form, checked Tactix's room, which was unlocked. Yatta! I crept in and grabbed my messenger bag, then went to the other part of the house to grab my sketchbook and shoes. I made my way out of the house with a look of determination on my face. I would sleep in my own bed, and it would be the greatest sleep any man had ever experienced. I felt bad for leaving so early without saying bye to at least one person, but I really had no other choice. They probably didn't even notice I had left when they awoke. Win/win situation.

After going through another navigation problem (it appeared my brain-eating disease had returned), I made my way to the Bay Area Rapid Transit and hopped aboard. I was tired, aggravated, and yet somehow fulfilled.

Then I ate doughnuts.

All in all, the party was enjoyable. Despite being the loner in black in the corner, I had as good of a time as I could have, given my preferences. Everyone seemed cool, it was all put together superbly, and I raped a Native American girl 150 times. Although I expected more from my first large NARP, I still left feeling accomplished. Sometimes it's important to experience things that you normally wouldn't experience. You can look back on the event and say “I was there that day”. Of course you would rather stay clear of the awkward memories. Trust me, those awkward memories will stick with you until pretty much forever.

Will people see me again? At some point, whether you like it or not. Will people see me at another large party? No, but thanks anyway.

Love you, Dtoid.

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