Hi there! I'm MeanderBot. I enjoy video games. My video game playing history begins like many others: someone across the street got an NES, then I stumbled across a used stack of Nintendo Power at a swap meet, and soon enough I was spending more time with a controller in my hand then lying in my bed.
As mentioned above, I'm a bit of a Nintendo fanboy. Though I'd like to think I'm open minded enough to not get needlessly insulted whenever someone slights Ninty, while being able to acknowledge its shortcomings. But if it's got a big red N on it, chances are it will fall within my sphere of desire. I have every other current gen system, and thanks to the rediscovery of a local swapmart, I've pulled my SNES and NES out of storage so I can agonize over trying to get the damned things to work. I also try to do some gaming on my crappy PC, which usually ends up being either six+ old games, or indie games. Which is pretty much all I could ask for.
Outside of zeroes and ones, I'm also interested in skateboarding, drawing, photography and drinking a metric asston of soda. But that stuff's boring.
Stories are often found in great numbers among a civilization. Tales of the beginning of life, of triumph, of prosperity, of surmounting anything that stands in ones path no matter the obstacle. Stories such as these can be found where ever one turns, as people are more then happy to share them. However, it seems that these stories are often overshadowed by other tales, those of great tragedy and anguish. Stories of such pain that to forget them would require a superhuman effort. This is such a story, one of a single man who enslaved an entire species for his own evil gain.
Long ago, it is said that a single man descended from the stars on a strange and alien ship. Where he landed is cause of debate; some say it was on a barren circle where nothing ever grows, some say it was the nexus of what is now a barbarous tribe. But what is agreed on is that when he landed, he was greeted by a group of friendly, simple minded plant-like creatures. Soon, he discovered that they meant him no harm. Soon, he discovered that they happily obeyed his orders without a second thought. Soon, he discovered that they were formidable in combat. Soon, he discovered that they were easily reproduced. Soon, wicked thoughts trickled into his mind...
Before long, the area in which he first arrived was decorated with items of great wealth and the bones of his enemies. Stacks of ill-gotten treasures lined his camp, more then any city, let alone one man, could ever ask for. But it was not enough. By now, the one known as Olimar had succumbed completely to the corruption that often comes with power, and he lusted after more. He led his army, numbering in the thousands, and swept like a plague through the land, capturing anything that held value to his poisoned mind and destroying anything that resisted. After a terribly long time, he stood at the top of his vile empire, consisting of nothing but himself and his army, and smiled. What was once a small landing pad, then stretched out into thousands of square feet, where all was dark and miserable, where life was rare and fleeting, and where nothing was free.
Nobody can say for sure how his miserable time of reign came to an end, and is also an area of much dispute. Some say that eventually his army realized the hurt they were causing and turned on their evil master, then worked tirelessly to reverse the harm they caused. Some say that eventually he and his army found nothing but water surrounding his empire. Still not satisfied, he returned to his spacecraft to find another realm to destroy. Some versions say that one day, as he became grey with age, his loneliness and knowledge of the great crimes he committed weighed down on him mercilessly. Able to stand it no more, he took his own life. All that matters is that he is no more, and that this wonderful land has thankfully recovered to its once untarnished beauty. But despite every sign of his dark empire being erased by merciful time, every now and then, one can still hear mournful whispers recounting the destructive epoch of Olimar The Terrible.
So that was something, right? For some reason I had it in my mind that I had to write a narrative to go with it, but it ended up just having to do with the process. Which I am oddly at a loss for words for. I was thinking of the post that inspired the idea, which put me in a bit of a negative mood. And for some reason, Pikmin came to mind. Put two and two together, and you get a megalomaniacal Olimar. Somehow. I drew this on my tablet, mostly to justify my needlessly expensive stylus purchase. Hopefully next time I won't procrastinate so much and I'll be able to put more polish into it, and/or do more pictures, and/or come up with a better idea. We shall see! Please enjoy. Thank you.