The War, The Artist and the Soldier

War waged between freedom and a fire invasion,
Orders shouted, metal churned on a bloody horizon,
Between pain-stricken soldiers and crying infants
I marched through corpses, eyes struck with distance.

Plea of fright, death pulling them away from the fight,
Hair on strings, wooden stock in hand, loss in sight,
Gushing blood around me, shattered bones and hopes,
My friend, someone’s brother, soon to be father, a corpse.

It’s them that empower my word, they push me forward,
A few strings played to stem the tide of an invading horde.
Mud taking flight, rocks crumbling and souls departing,
Some run and mourn, the battlefield caught the dead sleeping.

One man’s crawl, a nation’s fall, freedom’s demise,
I march alongside him, from the mud he tries to rise,
His resolve is unshakable, his legs are broken, his vision blurred,
He grasps the iron goal, as cold as the souls lost, a shout unheard.

He begins to die, still going, resurrecting the morale of those alive
I play for him, he deserves more than my violin, he must survive!
Eyes close as the flag rose, time and battle almost froze, done,
I continue, I’m ready to donate my life, my fear of death, gone.

The last few steps are hardest, my hands soaked in blood and sweat,
I can’t play much longer, my strings almost ripped and upset,
Shoulders shatter as they’re shot, eyes blank out under the sun,
A smile on my face, the sun smiling back as I fall, death by gun,

The war was won, but he never saw the end of it,
I’m now a hero, flowers thrown, I can relax for a bit,
To his grave I took my flowers, he deserves more than what I’ve said.
In the end I’m happy, the sun’s up, children are laughing, I’m dead.

hate

It rose up from the chair, he stood down though, staring at it and wondering what it was doing. “I’m worthless, I’m hated and everyone would be better off without me!” being the words it said, turning its back to him, having him reply “I’ve made so many friends, some say I have talent, I’ve got a future.”. Quicker than a bullet, hair whipped as it turned, uttering “It’s my fault people are unhappy, I’m never going to be good enough!”, a hand extending out from its figure and smashing against the poor porcelain guardian, shattered as his left hand covered his eyes, as if cowering. Rising up, he said “I’ve worked for where I am, I deserve the love I’ll once find.” In a brave voice. It retorted harshly with “I’ll always be heartbroken, I should suicide, leave this world!”, stepping towards him and leaning forth. He backed down, it slapping his face with the back of its hand. “No one will ever be proud of me, no one will ever congratulate me!” shouted by it, its demented figure skittering around the room and charging towards another object, shattering a picture frame of him. Blood seemed down from the wounded cheek, his voice cracked and above the two hands cuddling against each other under his neck “I’ve done so much, I’ll write a book once, I’ll have a happy life.”, almost unable to finish as it said “I’m useless, I’ll never achieve anything, misery awaits me!”, ripping apart a notebook. “I don’t care!” being screamed between the tears of the now cowering man, his arms acting as a shield and having the flesh torn from them, tears shed forming a puddle and the monster stepping forward, both saying “I’m Crazed.”

Artist’s Lament

Guitars played in the background of an average bedroom, his fingers striding over the plastic nest of keys that was his keyboard, typing an important email when two words and a riff in the music acted as salt upon a wound. It was ‘love’ and ‘rose’ that somehow were formed in a text warped around certain metrics, all these triggering the legs. Boosted up by hydraulic muscles and pushed forth by the enthralling music that now mixed a piano inside the guitar’s heaven, his feet entered a dance as his left hand sweep over the desk, shoving off paper and electronics to a deserted land and breaking off months of work, revealing the white undercover that covered his desk. Pencil grasped forth by inspired fingers, lines and curves became slaves to quick motions, one hand keeping the rhythm and the other one leading a charge into the unkempt hair, a result of the opened scars. Moments passed before the music once again broke out aggressively, the pencil breaking off in the anger of his fingers, the beast making a circle around the walled cage before picking up the glass holding a most precious drink and screaming at it before harming the door with a quick throw of the glass. Shouting for help as it shattered, the glass broke off its limbs into shards, shards picked up in one hand and piercing the frail skin, releasing blood as they were clenched. These shards did their job, they drew blood and in term they were thrown against the useless assortment of metallic contains of certain scents, a symphonic chime of glass on metal resounding as they fell to the ground, the beast screaming once more as it began once more to use the white cover as a canvas, now with his blood. Before one would know it, the beast looked around, ripping apart the chair on which it once sat upon in a violent outburst. The wooden frame of it and of the bed stood no chance to his rage, teeth used to prick out nails from the boards. The canvas was taken from its resting place and shoved against the white wall, nailed to the wall by the beast using a phone as a crude hammer. Once it was done, the face a woman holding a rose could be seen, a woman drawn in pencil and a rose drawn in blood, the beast releasing a scream, blood dripping from its teeth, its bloodshot eyes now closed as the environment began to burn around it, revealing that it was actually not to a canvas, but to a gravestone, engulfing the stone in a hug.

We’re there for you.

Who's Crazed?

  • Wulfe: Hey, look at this.
  • ~Screen turns on to Prime World website ~
  • Malice: Who's Crazed? Some random PW Employee?
  • Wulfe: Keep reading, that awesome guy's now doing great things there.
  • Malice: Wait, name's... what?!
  • Wulfe: ~sagenod~ Yes.
  • Malice: I never knew you were into MMOs!
  • Wulfe: Being a dark overlord can be boring sometimes.

Malice: The virus named Shoerec makes icons simply run away from the cursor as it approaches them as it’s first symptom.
Wulfe: Shouldn’t this be called the ‘Forever-Alone Virus’?
Malice: Well think about it this way, you can’t click any icon on the desktop.
Wulfe: This just seems like a silly and sadistic way to mess with someone.
Malice: It’s final payload is to pretty much delete everything inside your Windows folder, so it can be quite evil.
Wulfe: Now we’re talking!

whole-grain-bread
unexplained-events:

The photo above is the closest humanity has ever come to creating Medusa. If you were to look at this, you would die instantly. 
The image is of a reactor core lava formation in the basement of the Chernobyl nuclear plant. It’s called the Elephant’s Foot and weighs hundreds of tons, but is only a couple meters across.
Oh, and regarding the Medusa thing, this picture was taken through a mirror around the corner of the hallway. Because the wheeled camera they sent up to take pictures of it was destroyed by the radiation. The Elephant’s Foot is almost as if it is a living creature.

Wulfe: Miracles of science.Malice: You know that this is something that shouldn’t happen, it’s not really a miracle.Wulfe: Ever watched a nuclear bomb detonate?Malice: Is that really a question? Of course not, duh.Wulfe: It burns itself on your retina because it’s that bright.Malice: What am I to draw from this?Wulfe: Potential is turned into creation.Malice: Are still talking about a ‘puddle’ of radioactive compounds or did you go into some weird side-track?Wulfe: Second, but still, a miracle.

unexplained-events:

The photo above is the closest humanity has ever come to creating Medusa. If you were to look at this, you would die instantly. 

The image is of a reactor core lava formation in the basement of the Chernobyl nuclear plant. It’s called the Elephant’s Foot and weighs hundreds of tons, but is only a couple meters across.

Oh, and regarding the Medusa thing, this picture was taken through a mirror around the corner of the hallway. Because the wheeled camera they sent up to take pictures of it was destroyed by the radiationThe Elephant’s Foot is almost as if it is a living creature.

Wulfe: Miracles of science.
Malice: You know that this is something that shouldn’t happen, it’s not really a miracle.
Wulfe: Ever watched a nuclear bomb detonate?
Malice: Is that really a question? Of course not, duh.
Wulfe: It burns itself on your retina because it’s that bright.
Malice: What am I to draw from this?
Wulfe: Potential is turned into creation.
Malice: Are still talking about a ‘puddle’ of radioactive compounds or did you go into some weird side-track?
Wulfe: Second, but still, a miracle.

tsteelia

tsteelia:

Ver 1.7 Change Log:

Changed the way animations were played, should look slightly smoother when moving from one to the next, although causes slightly more terrain clipping.

Changed the effective audio zone.

Changed the text to make more sense.

Flattened terrain/changed collision area, allows for better detection when the spider is hit.

You can now mouse over small spiders to start sending them back.

Large spider attacks now deal less damage. Allowing for more time to try and kill it. Death animation looped back in, now should die temporarily but get back up again.

Camera and movement locked when dead. Partially, Can still look up and down.

To do:

Add in working weapon, weird collisions when importing/attaching to first person controller.

Add effects onto 123 as specials.

Adjust small spider flailing player around.

moondevourer

moondevourer:

I don’t wanna go to classes today

I just wanna sit around and listen to stupid anime OPs all day

cries loudly

Wulfe: Sounds like someone I know.
Malice: I will have you know my attendance is 100%!
~shuffling sounds~
Wulfe: Never said anything about you…
Malice: Well… I was just having an arrogant moment, okay? You’re not the only one with such traits around. Anime sounds like fun, if you’re watching old anime of course.
Wulfe: Or you could just have fun by watching the wretched mortals wither away their pitiful lives.