We had a hard time posting in this one, for various reasons. Staz thought it was emo-enough already, others felt weird using something that was so specifically Svyatopolk. So, we've gone and moved. Our new account is myrkkysienet , see you all there.

Hello everyone, Auslander here. I said we'd be updating more frequently, didn't I? Well, it's not that we haven't come up with entries, it's just... we've been busy. Website design, pixel art, packing for a big move. Just excuses for not getting things typed up. I'm planning on catching you guys up with the internal entries as fast as possible, so I've got at least four to go through tonight, not counting an update of the 'cast list'.

So, without further ado, time for the question mentioned in the subject. Also, please excuse any typoes, I am tired and I haven't so much as snacked in six hours. Yes, I should be taking better care of the body.
______

Still Auslander, for the moment. So, a couple weeks ago, when I was first going to post this entry, we got into a conversation about the standards of beauty where we're from. Back in my world, we humans tend to like our women youthful and pale, with a few minor rolls of fat. Given that the humans were "seed with" an effeminite Korean man, it's really not a surprise. (Personally, Hadrien likes Strong Black Girls... but that's something for another post.)
Fionn took his turn next and explained that there was no single "type" for the Zenith. It's like trying to come up with a single type for all of America. You're going to offend certain states. Still, there are some tendencies. Ice planets like Limit and jungle planets like Heart tend to prefer large, muscular women. Of course, one must consider that Five foot six is gigantic to them. Imagine a race that is somewhere between elves and dwarves. That would be the Zenith. On "more civilised" planets where social manuvering is key(Read: Touchstone), if you're not a Stepford Wife, you're going to have to find someplace else to live.
Sam shared a... less than well known fact about the Old West. Men at the time were expected to have both a wife and a mistress on the side. You married a (hopefully wealthy) gentle, polite woman, and did as little as possible to "excite the passions". One was only to have sex for the purpose of procreation. Then, you found a... less than respectable woman who found your personality agreeable enough. The purpose of this was to "avoid the corrupting influence" your desires would have on the fairer sex. Yes. And now you know why the oldest profession flourished so.
All this lead to Steve piping up and mentioning that Ancient Rome was possibly the most realistic, when it came to beauty. For someone to be attractive, they would have to have nice toned muscles sheathed in a layer of fat. In other words, in order to be pretty, one had to be healthy. This, however, is what got me wanting to post it.

There was more, but it's late and I've forgotten it so... I leave you, my readers, with a question. What was the standard of beauty where you're from? How does it differ from your own personal standard?

tags: auslander

Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Once again, I am Auslander. Today, I figured I should tell you all about the person you are most likely to interact with. His name is Haidren. I spoke of him briefly in my last post, however I got side tracked by gameshows. I will try not to make the same mistake twice.

Hadrien is a stereotypically attractive fellow. Tall, muscled without being over muscled, blond hair, blue eyes. A stereotypical Evil Blond Guy, the sort of person you see guarding the inner sanctum of the Grand Evil Overlord. Remember this. It'll be important.

Hadrien was a happy enough kid, but that did not mean he had a happy childhood. At age five, his parents split up, but did not divorce. His mother moved to another country and got a good job. She promised to send for them, but never did. Instead she sent a check, once a month, containing a weeks pay.

Life went on. Hadrien lived alone with his father. For a while things were okay, but eventually the stress became too much for Hadrien's father. He became addicted to whatever he could find, just to make the day go faster. He was hard working, and expected Hadrien to be doubly so. At age ten, Hadrien was scamming his school mates and taking jobs, trying to scrape together every dollar he could to make his father proud of him.

His father had taken on most of the traits one associates with a bad mother. He was manipulative, controlling, willing to do anything he thought would achive the goals of fame and fortune. And Hadrien, being the good son that he was, listened to him. All Hadrien wantede, all he ever wanted, was his father's aproval. All he ever got were dashed dreams and broken hopes.

Hadrien always tried to do something creative, just to give the old man a gift. "It's not like learning to draw is going to help you get a job when the time comes." or "Oh sure, you hear about the successes of some bands, but what about the thousands that never make it? And those that do make it end up slaves to the man. Did you think about that?" That's all he got as thanks.

At sixteen, Hadrien was forced to get a job while his father "retired". Which is to say, he retreated into his room, became even more passive agressive, and generally became a burden. They were still reciving cheques from the mother, who refused to answer any letter or email sent to her. Some facts were manipulated, and Hadrien was able to get his father put on disability. This didn't change the fact that he had dropped out of school, and was working two jobs, just to satisfy his father's material wants.

At eighteen, Hadrien was starting to burn out. He loved his father, he truly did. But the old man was killing him, slower than any poison, more painfully than any torture. There had to be an easier way. It was about this time that he noticed that the whole country was in need of a change. He recalled people talking about a "Corrupter", a person destined to change the world. Well, he knew he wasn't the Corrupter, but no one else had to know that.

So he went around, pretending to be taking orders from this great spirit, and amassed an army. Hadrien was quite skilled at politics and manipulation from the years of scamming, but it was still a rough start. After all, he was just an eighteen year old boy. But he got funding from various people who wanted the world to change, he extracted money from his followers, and by age twenty one, he was a credible threat to national stability.

In a country as cruel and heartless as his, one would assume that they would just send a soldier in to blow his brains out. But there was a problem with that. As far as they knew, Hadrien was just the middle man, and that if they killed him, he'd just become a martyr, someone for the forces to rally behind. Besides, Hadrien was a bit of an airhead, from all the intellence they had gathered, so... what was the harm of letting an idiot lead them?

By twenty five, he ruled the country with an iron fist. He demanded that the manufacturing plants go green, that the ISPs act a bit more fairly, that research be done to allow these things. He pushed telecommunications research, mass transit research. Internet terminals soon became as prevelant as telephones. And something important happened.

He realised he didn't need his father's approval. He brought his father to palace, and showed him around. Gave him a grand tour, and showered him with gifts. And then... he told the old bastard that he didn't do it for him, but because a change was needed. He sent his father away, gave him a nice house with a nice bank account, and never spoke with him again.

Hadrien decided that it was time to wage war against the rest of the world. So he conquered. Not with guns and bombs, but with flowers and words. He converted people, he allied himself with those he thought could be changed. He kept the research pressure up, new weapons, new ways of communicating. He lead the world, forever pretending just to be a figurehead and lackey.

He was just the General, after all. He was the physical presence of the Corrupter, and he was often present on the battlefield. No true leader would do that. After a few, rumors of a hero who was destined to either kill the Corrupter or Redeem him began to spread. Not long after, a description of her began to spread.

The one chosen to lead the world away from my terrible misrule was... unique. Rumor and propecy stated that she would have hair like the sea and skin like a shark. That her body and well being would mean so little that she would not care if you walked in on her bathing. And, above all, she would be a Human from another world.

They said that, traveling with her, was an elfin mage with beautiful lavender hair, and a shark who was born on land. Hadrien tracked her down himself, whenever he could. Due to the gatesmage, they were able to slip through his fingers again and again. It wasn't hard to tell where they had been. After all, where I'm from, humans are rare and mostly vaguely Asian, where as she looked as though she were from a shark village. She was also travelling with an elf and a shark.

Figuring out where they would be, now that was more difficult. I learned in time. Eventually, however, she managed to force Hadrien to confront his feelings. He thought she was cute, and... they ended up falling in love. A lot happened after that, but I suppose this is all you need to know for now.


Edited at 8:19 PM 21-04-08, to add the music I was listening to when it was written, as well as fixing the date.

music: The Mighty Mighty Bosstones- The Rascal King tags: auslander

I realise we haven't updated in a long time, and there have been several reasons. Most relevant is that James tends to get stuck in his ways and we were using a Flock's blog tool to update. Given that this is the first update in a while I have a few things to address. Firstly, if you happen to be reading this Kathy, I must apologise for my roommate's behavior. Albin did not mean to be rude, but he was completely baffled as to proper procedure, and could not decide how to respond. Do go easy on him, he is a police officer.

Secondly, I must admit, the quality in most of the posts on the blog leave... something to be desired. We were not taking care of ourself when they were written, but that situation has been rectified.

Now then, onto introductions. I am not someone who comes out often. I usually don't have much of a reason. I would tell you my name but there are two problems with that. The first of which is that I have too many. The second reason is that my true name has not been spoken in such a long time that there is no tongue on Earth that could replicate it. Not anymore, at least. You may, however, call me Auslander.

My story and the story of my home are inexorably linked, I am almost a part of the setting. There are theories here stating that there is an unconscious over-mind, that people, whether they know it or not, then to all work toward the good of the whole. Slightly less charitable theories state that the only over-mind is that of the Planet Herself, and human kind can buck it, but only at their own risk. These ideas are, in their own way, true back home. I should know, for I am that will. These are not the ramblings of a megalomaniac tyrant.

I must admit, however, I have been such a person more often than I would have have cared for. But I am getting ahead of myself.

In a time and place as far removed from our own as possible, a world was dying. Not from the fallout of a war, but from the fallout of peace. They had solved all their problems, and therefore had nothing left to do. The had licked hunger, they had licked scarcity, and the world was at peace. They were choking on their own cancerous complacency.

The end days were rapidly approaching, and they had time for one last hurrah. And then... something happened. They discovered something that could change the world for the better (And lets face it, anything is better than dying with an anti-climatic puff). They discovered the ability to gate.

They tore asunder the fabric of the multi-verse, and put it back together. They found pathways to everywhere, when, and if. They did what any sane government would do upon discovering a new country. They sent explorers and envoys. One such explorer landed in a place that was known as The Bandit Kingdom. It was a small country, but it scared the giants that surrounded it.

The explorer was a beautiful, thing creature, sensitive of sense and disposition. She was also an elf. She was in far, far over her head. She knew little of the inhabitants of this world, and the only reason she could our language was an artifact of the magic. It translated, but it did not do it well. She wandered the countryside, searching for life. This is where I enter. I will never forget her first words to me.

"Are you a good demon, or a bad demon?" I was not the most attractive man. I was rather feminine, and a bit under scarred. I was also Korean. My response would, roughly, translate to "Lady, I'm fucking Korean, what do you think?!" Her ears weren't the cue that she was from elsewhere. It was her response. "So, a good demon then?"

We spoke, I told her about my country, she told me about hers. We fell in love, and she brought me back, hoping that I would be able to save them. That someone from The Bandit Kingdom would know what to do. The process was... traumatic for me. My soul was split in twain, not into "Good" and "Evil", nor "Lawful" and "Chaotic". I became the Builder and the Destroyer.

The Builder stayed in my body, and The Destroyer was just a spirit. He explored while I toured and we came to the same conclusion. The peace, though admirable, was killing them. We didn't wish to agree, but we had to. The Destroyer self had the will to be hated. He started a war. The Builder did what he did best. He banded people together, he created new technology. He won. Technology and magic, merging into a beautiful, synergistic form. As the builder, I ruled, fairly but with too much of an emphasis on order. I became stifling. The Destroyer took the technologies the Builder made and remade them into whatever he needed. When one of us died, we would be reborn.

And so the cycle continued, but it was small scale, a piece of a country. So we split again and again. Two become four, four became eight. We spread out, we worked. We no longer shared a body of knowledge, but we knew each other. That's all that was needed. We danced without ever knowing the steps, forever locked in a grim fandango. Yes, that was a nerd culture reference.

I gave them a reason to grow, I watched kingdoms rise and fall. I splintered myself more and more. I stopped being an I, and started becoming an Idea. I was a one person movement, spread across a globe. The Destroyer became The Corrupter, the Builder the Protector. We lived again, we laughed again, we died again. I started wars and ended them, all to save a world.

The life I remember most vividly was my most recent. I was man named Hadrien. He did not live a happy life. His father was addicted to the Internet and violent "Game shows". Many of you have likely seen some clip of a Japanese game show where people are humiliating and debasing themselves, just for a buck. Like, say, Za Gaman(Also know as The Endurance), where people would see how long they could last, buried up to their necks in sand. Or perhaps they were stuck in a glass box all day, with no food or water. And then there's Nasubi. Maybe you've heard of it. A young job seeker was chosen from a lottery, taken to an apartment, told to strip, and forced to enter mail in contests for his food, clothing, and entertainment. And then, when he won the first goal, he was moved somewhere else, and he had to start all over again.

Or maybe you've seen a French show called Fort Boyard, in which players had to confront a maze with obstacles that would directly play on their fear and hatred, forcing them to get clues from the underside of living spiders, or traverse mazes with their head surrounded by cockroaches, rats, spiders, and whatever other nasties the producers could think of. Our game shows were worse than any of the above. Fear Factor would be considered rather tame. Za Gaman(Endurance) might be able to get some viewers, but frankly we'd rather watch an innocent man be hunted down by armed criminals who were promised a partial pardon if they killed this one unarmed man. Granted, that show only lasted about a season, but it got great ratings.

Back to Hadrien. His father was physically abusive, and often pushed him to get on one of those shows and win some money. Or do something with his life that would make them hideously wealthy. Hadrien became wealthy, alright. He became the trusted General of the Corrupter, one of the primary channels through which orders came. He changed the world, but he could only change it so much. Life went on. He met a woman, a skinny black girl from a world not unlike our own. He fell in love. He "defected". Although, it took a lot of time to change him. I'm not sure how much more I should say, but really, if you want me to talk about my world, I am perfectly willing.

tags: auslander

Hey-ya folks. I'm Sught, your local living cartoon and assassin. I wasn't always this way, as Lon, Blake, or even Yuki could tell you. Long before they ever really knew me, I was just a normal kid. Well, normal enough. My mother was from Limit and my father from Heart. The end result? I was born half monkey, half snowcone, err, polar bear. Okay, not quite true. People from Heart are big, furry, fanged flexible beings, while those from Limit are, well, think of them as Russians. With less getting absolutely drunk, and a better government. Well, a little less getting drunk. Anywho, people from Heart and Limit are the most resilient Zenith I know of, and, well, I benefit by being from both.
I should probably describe myself a bit. When I went through my first mental breakdown, I was a large, for a Zenith mind, burly, hairy gymnast. I keep myself clean shaven now, and I tend to wear a suit with padded shoulders. I keep a hat on me, and I have a crystal to replace an eye I lost during my wilder years. That's not whats important. As Yuki mentioned recently, we believe a person's wings show you what they're like. My wings are large, stained glass butterfly wings. That's right, Sught, the big tough, insane hired gun has a touch of fae.
I should break down what the wings mean, for those who haven't read Yuki's post. Butterfly wings are somewhat uncommon, but the mean that the "owner" tend to be kind, caring, and really sweet people. They also rather like the spotlight and will wilt if neglected. We're also rather emotionally fragile. Now, as I said, my wings are stained glass. Glass is fragile, though it can be beautiful, and it means that a person is emotionally unstable. It also means that if you happen to be the person who "breaks" them, expect to be cut to ribbons. So, all in all, my wings say "Beware the nice ones".

And Nice I was. Oh, sure, I was raised to be a mercinary and a thief from a young age. That didn't stop me from being a geniunely caring person. Especially when I was a kid. I was often complimented on my ability to put off their guard. I wasn't trying to, I just happen to think that everyone deserves to be treated with respect. Well, within reason. Some people don't deserve respect, but those cases are few. The trap finder who crossed Lon didn't deserve respect. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I was a good student and a good kid. I suppose those two factors are what made me an object of legend. In school, we often underwent certain training exercises. I became infamous because they always had to invent a new rule after I went through it. One of the more notable ones was when we were armed with paintball guns(The equivilent, actually, but who's counting) and set loose in a maze. The nerd came up with a mapping algorythm, I climbed the wall and ran across it, looking for the enemy sqaudren. I found them, and I took them out. It was well within the rules at the time, and in a field situation it was probably the sane thing to do. They still made a rule to prevent students from repeating my tactic.
I've never been much for tradition, I'm ashamed to say. I didn't want to be a killer, but my parents thought it was the best education I could get. I actually agree. I learned a little bit of everything, from magic to dancing, to how to sew. I learned how to cook, I learned how to mix up various medicines, I learned more than I would at any normal school. There was one slight problem... I was a jester at heart.
I worked as a hired killer for a while, I knew how to keep a low profile, I knew how to put people off guard. Who expects that witty charming fellow who looks like he might be a first generation Touchstonian, whom has been joking all night and seems to be getting quite drunk, to put a dagger between their shoulders?

Still, I was a jester, this led to my mid-life crisis, of sorts. I realised what I wanted to do with my life was to amaze people and make them laugh. All I knew how to do was kill. I decided I was unfit for work, and set out to kill myself. I happened to be insane enough to decide that I should try to commit suicide by cop. But I couldn't bring myself to hurt innocent people. So I went to places where there was a criminal underworld that was getting far too powerful, and I began taking on all challangers. I started bar fights with anyone I thought might be able to kill me. I gave them an advantage, too.
I fought like something out of a movie, flashy but impractical. I wanted it to look good. The problem was, no one was expecting it. I went all out right out of the gate. I cleaned up that city, but not before encountering the underboss and dueling to the death under certain conditions that would eventually become my signature. We each fought with a dagger clutched between our teeth, the blade facing inwards so that any blow to the hilt of the dagger would kill us.
I kept travelling around, attempting to get someone to kill me, but one could tell how seriously I was taking a battle by whether I had the dagger in my mouth or not. If I didn't think they'd be worth it, I didn't have the dagger in. Of course, with each fight, I was becoming harder to kill. I always went all out, and if you keep training, keep pushing your limits, your limits are going to stretch more and more. I soon amassed a legend, one that lasted far longer than this phase.
I became known as One-Inch(Roughly). Why I was doing this depends on the teller, some thought I was a Holy Warrior, depending on The Power of Right to keep myself alive. That the dagger was enchanted so it would only harm the wicked, that if I ever picked the wrong person, I was dead. Other people thought I was a drug addict, going after the gangs to steal their stashes. And still others thought I was a plaything of the gods, cursed to live until someone could defeat me. These legends still exist, if you know where to look.
Eventually, I realised I could still be a killer and make people happy. I gave up my life as "One-Inch" and rejoined the Guild. This was to be the start of my transformation, and the start of my third legend. I continued with fighting as flashily as possible, and someone told me that "It was like watching a living cartoon". I thought this was a wonderful idea. Imagine the advantage you have if you can continously pull of "impossible" feats, undermining your foe's confidence in himself. I began commisioning equipment from a mage who thought it quite a challange.

I drove him insane, eventually, to get myself blessed with a sort of immortality. It's the kind that cartoon characters have. You can smash them flat, blow off their head, toss them in a meat grinder, freeze the remains, and then shatter it, and they'll be fine in a few minutes. I can do much the same now, except I do take damage as any normal person, and I feel it too. If I'm just too injured, I may undergo an critical existance failure and simply... cease to exist. This is in theory, I do not truly know what would happen.
As one might expect, even in the beginning of this transformation, I got a reputation as a cunning killer, and just the guy to hire if you wanted to send a message. I was expensive, but I was always willing to give people a discount if they truly needed it. And when I wasn't killing people and driving mages mad? I was inventing new gadgets and making people laugh. I love nothing more than making people laugh. It's why I hooked up with Blake. She has a morbid sense of humor, but then, I've killed someone using a taffy puller and an alarm clock. It was a match made in... probably in hell. I don't mind.


If anyone has any questions, do feel free to ask. I appologise for any spelling errors this doccument may contain, I am not quite used to this keyboard, nor this language.

tags: sught

I'm really getting tired of all these history teachers and otherwise sane people swearing up and down that everyone who wasn't Christian was incapable of feeding themselves. Okay, so it might not be that bad, but we seem to continually disavow ancient technology. You know what? Nothing much has changed, it's only gotten smaller and faster.

Which brings us to the subject of this little ramble. Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome. Peope seem to be of the opinion that, while the basics of science comes from those two cultures, all they did with it was make sharpened sticks and poke each other to death. That they were insane, barbaric idiots that killed everyone in sight, that war was their only skill. This is, sadly, a pretty common view of Non-Christian Europeons. I could talk about how I saw in a recent history program, not that I shouldn't have been expecting it, that all Norsemen were psychopathic rapists who occasionally stole, and didn't get to crafting any thing of their own until they got a propper Christian king. Yeah.

But I was talking about the Greeks. We all know they gave us a good head start on so much science, including optics, physics, hydrolics, pneumatics, and cybernetics. Yes, I said cybernetics. I don't mean it in the "Rawr! I've got a metal arm!" way, though that would be cool. I mean it as in the study of complex systems, specifically those containing self regulating mechanisms. Plato started it with his theories on Government. Ctesibius and Hero brought it to engineering.

Ctesibius was, as far as we can tell, the first head of the Musaeum of Alexandria. He was notable for being poor, as well as inventing the most accurate clock of it's time. In fact, the clepsydra held up until the 17th Century when Christiaan Huygens applied the pendulum to time keeping. But that's not the point of this ramble. Ctesibius had several other interesting inventions, from the minor, like an adjustable mirror, to the more artistic. He invented the hydraulis. The Hydraulis was a water powered pipe organ. Which makes this as good a time as any to bring up another useful fact. As far as we know, he was the first to study pneumatics.

That's right, he combined pneumatics(hydraulis) and cybernetics, as well as hydrolics(clepsdyra) and cybernetis. Both the hydraulis and the clepsdyra had a float adjusting the water flow to keep the pressure constant. I told you Ancient Greece was steampunk. Don't believe me yet? I still have Hero of Alexandria to talk about.

We know a lot more about Hero than we do of Ctesibius. Some of Hero's works actually survived the Library of Alexandria. He taught at the Musaeum, we know this because because most of his works appear as lecture notes for courses in math, mechanics, physics and pneumatics. So, what did he do? A lot. Hero happens to be most well known for the Aeolipile(Also known as Hero's Engine or a steamball), which is the first recorded steam engine, and Hero's Fountain. Hero's Fountain is just as it sounds. A stand alone fountain that can run for a few minutes off a cup of water. Or longer if you built it larger.

So we have a fountain and a primitive steam engine. So what? That's not all he did, nor is it as simple as it seems. He built a steam engine. Not a powerful one, no. But a small one. What do you do with it? You open doors. I'm not kidding, that was one of the primary uses for it, automatically opening temple doors. In fact, several of his inventions were automatic door openers, the trigger being anything from lighting a torch to standing on trigger floor tile.

But that's not all, he also created a pneumatic garden with singing silver birds, including an owl that tilts it's head. He also made a wind organ, a vending machine, and an automatic theatre. And these are just a few things I know.

And yet, some how, we're supposed to believe that the ancient greeks and romans couldn't wipe their asses without help. May the god of your choice save our future from these egotistical idiots.

Also, I'm going to go through and pony up some links later. Half awake, I think I'm going to take a nap.

tags: james, rant, steampunk

Greetings to all who may be reading.
        My name is Samuel, though most know me as Burying Sam, or simply Sam. My home universe is a weird west instance at around 1886. At least, that's the last year I remember. My world wasn't too different from what actually happened, aside from the occasional supernatural instance, such as the gun that found it's way to my hand. I read William Masterson's articles whenever I got the chance, I was really rather normal.
       That's why I'm always so confused when I see a "Western" on the Television. William Masterson wasn't anything like his TV show. If you want to know about the man, imagine Hunter S. Thompson in "The Old West". Masterson did have the unfortunate habit of beating people with his cane, and he was always in a bowler, but that's about all the show got right. He gambled, sure, but he made his income, at part of it, as a reporter. Boxing was his bailiwick, and I can't think of a better man. A boxer once asked him what right he had to criticize. Masterson gloved up and got into the ring. He won that match, too.
       Masterson didn't carry a gun, he didn't like them, they cost him his leg. But there it is in the show.  I was reading about the Django Movies, and someone criticized the gatling gun in the coffin. First of all, wasn't a Gatling gun, it was a mitrailleuse, a type of volley gun. And secondly, we did that sort of thing. Not to that degree, no, a Mitrailleuse in a coffin was a little much, but we would keep a chest full of guns.

        People didn't wear just one gun, nor did they use both at the same time. It wasn't uncommon for someone to be armed with five guns. Three pistols, two in the belt one in a bandoleer, a Derringer,  and either a rifle or a shotgun. When it came to pistols, you emptied one, you dropped it, took out the next, repeat. When all three are empty, you ducked for cover and reloaded. If you only had one gun, you were marked as a rich boy playing at being a gun slinger. Which is why it's better not to carry one, or to carry two.
    Of course, that's not the only thing the Westerns are wrong about.  We had technology. We had portable telegraph machines, in case a train got robbed usually, but it wasn't unheard of for a rich man to have one of his own. They required two people to operate. One man held the poles connecting it to the line, another sent the message. I'm not impressed with technology, I'm impressed at how far it's come.
       Jukeboxes? We had them. The only had a few songs, most of them only one or two, and you had to listen to it with ear buds. Yes, we had them. They were very uncomfortable. Sitting around a jukebox and listening to it's limited selection was a social thing, you got the boys together, everyone chips in, and somebody cranked. Video Jukeboxes? Had those, they only had one video, and you had to put your eyes against it like a peep show, but they existed.

       Thank you for listening to me ramble, I could have edited this so it made sense, but... at the moment, I don't quite care.

tags: burying_sam, steampunk

    Greetings to all of our loyal, and disloyal, readers. My name is Vince and I am evil. At least, I fit most of the common definitions and in my home world, I own a large corporation. I have a unique genetic trait, which allows me to do something that is... well, quite unusual. But I'm getting ahead of myself, there's an aspect of my world that is important to understanding both it and myself. I warn you, you may be repulsed.

    You see, years ago, some scientist, likely hopped up on some experimental designer drug, discovered that he could teach silkworms how to do certain things. So far, so normal. Next he decided, for whatever reason, to grind up the silkworms he taught, and feed them to uneducated silkworms. He didn't get incredibly sick silkworms. He got silk worms who discovered on their own how to do what he had taught to the others.

    Naturally, being a scientist, he tried it again, same results. He also found that the effect was cumulative.  This didn't mean much, because, really, what would you want to teach silk worms? He published his findings anyway. Someone else decided to try it with something more advanced, lab rats.

    They taught the rat to run a maze, the ground up the brain and strained out the harmful proteins. They then fed it to another rat. The rat was capable of running the maze without having seen it before, but it required a jolt to get the information the first time. And as before, the found it was cumulative.

    All together, these things were interesting, but useless, sure, you could create a super-trained rat, or theoretically get a new dog with all the tricks of your dead dog, but... it was also somewhat expensive.

    Flash forward to a world where the All-Mighty Dollar has taken over, and CEOs are kings. Human rights are down the toilet, even though the corps treat their employees alright. The government hires "temp cops" to enforce the law on a case by case basis, and it's the lowest bidder who gets the job. Temp Cops are something of a combination of Bail Enforcement Agents and, well, Wild West Bounty Hunters.  They go in, try to resolve the job peacefully, but it they have to, they are generally armed with enough of whatever they can get their hands on to take out a small army.

    Usually, they need most of it. You're wondering what this has to do with the earlier thing about grinding up animals and(after straining out harmful proteins) feeding them to each other. Some of you have already got it. It's become legal to scoop out the brains of people who have earned the death sentence and strain the brain. Yes, they've figured out how to make it work with humans.

    It doesn't give the imbiber the talents so much as it allows the person to see the world the way someone with the inborn skill does. You drink the brain of an artist, you get to see the world the way an artist does.  With each skill, there's a unique way of looking at the world. There is a problem with this, however, they don't last forever. Most of them last only a few months, the higher quality(and therefore more expensive) ones last six months.

    Let's look at this from an economic standpoint. There's a limited amount of raw resources, there's a high demand, and they wear out. Needless to say, it's quite an expensive, some people only keep them around in case they really, really, need to do something chemistry related.

    Now me, personally, I apparently have rare genetic condition that allows me to keep them with no degradation. This is not as handy as some might expect. Even though I may have "drank" a pianist, does not mean I can play the piano. I can, but that's because I practiced. Having consumed their talent merely means I can learn it fast. And here's the real kicker, I was naturally capable of learning things at an accelerated rate. With these traits, I became a super genius in short order, even finding a way to leave the "donor" alive. I also isolated the trait and found a way to replicate the results in people with out it. Needless to say, I was able to charge a premium for my technology and I became quite rich. I never stopped inventing, and I never stopped taking jobs as a Temp Cop.

    Rich bastards who eat people's brains have to have fun, too.

tags: vince

The doll is because a certain Know-It-All Elf mandated this travesty as part of a favor.

    So, I'm out here typing because we're, essentially, being blackmailed. We need something, and the Know-It-All Elf can get it for us. But...

    My name is Albin, and I am a paladin of law. This you already know. What you don't know is that I am not human. The name of my people means "The Children Of Chaos".  Once upon a time we engaged in a war with a race that took the best parts of every species they could find, and took them into themselves. How do you adapt to fight something that adapts to anything?

    The answer is to become utterly chaotic. My people have done that well. Our blood contains liquefied wild magic and several mutagens. Drink at your own risk. Animals who feast upon our flesh are likely to have...  odd things happen to them. I believe one of the best examples was a tiger(tiger like creature, actually, but...) who was turned into what could only be described as a vampire rabbit with fur that absorbed all light.

    I am actually abnormally normal looking for my kind. It is not uncommon to see people with diamond legs, eyes in their belly buttons, sets of arms that split at the elbows. What do you expect from people who have chaos itself running in their veins?

    We only have two laws. Don't be a jackass and moderation in all things. The first law is expanded and clarified extensively,  but it is still the philosophy that our world runs on. The best way to explain would be to point you to Jeremy Bentham. I shall let you read about him yourself, however.

    The laws work in a profoundly weird way, for most people. The judges and juries have to actually think. But not too hard. The laws come with handy charts. Theft is a good example of where my law system goes strange. If the target has say, a million dollars, and you steal ten, you haven't done him much harm. It's still wrong, but you'll just have to work off the debt. Two hours later, you're free. But that's not quite all of it.

    The circumstances surrounding the crime also count. A multi-millionaire stealing ten dollars is more wrong than a homeless person with nothing to his name. The Homeless Person might not have been able to survive.

    In essence, any time you hurt someone else(unless it's willing, but I don't want to get into that here), be it physically, mentally, or financially it is wrong. But if you did it to survive or to help someone else survive, you are less likely to be punished severely. Having to work for a week but keeping all your wages excluding the damages, that is not a severe punishment, and it makes it less likely that you will need to do it in the future.

    If you take away the reason for the crime, you prevent it from happening again. We may have chaos running through our veins, but we are nothing if not logical.

    I hope this satisfies the Elf. If anyone has any questions, feel free to ask them.

tags: albin

This is a response to this post by kowaiyukidono. Please read it first, though I am attempting to keep this self contained.

tags: gamedesign, rant

I'm going to be talking about something that I know is unimportant to most of you reading about this, but I really have to let it out. There is a woman stinking up a chat room I frequent, and none of the big bad moderators have the testicular fortitude to banish her ass to the depths of hell, or at least some other chat. Why can't the poor powerful powers that be ban her? Because one of them is porking her and the others don't want to offend him.

This girl couldn't write her way out of paper sack. She's only got three characters but, at last count, fifty handles. And that's me a user counter. I asked a moderator there, and he said she's got sixty-six. Let's go to the statistics (Oh no, not statistics!)

             {18% Capcom Fighting
             {15% Unsorted
             {13% Sonic The Hedgehog
67% Canon    {8% Bleach
             {5% The Bouncer
             {5% Megaman X
             {3% Pokemon
        
              {18% Completely original
30% Original  {9% Altered Canon
              {3% repeats
3% Unclassifable

The thing is, about three different mods hate her guts, but that's not enough, they need five seperate non moderators to complain. They've got two, plus two people that will collaborate. But the moderator spearheading this operation, he's not sure if he can get number five, so what does he do? What does he do? He bribes Valkoinen, with porn, to drive her out. How is he going to accomplish that, you ask? By staging a political coup and taking over an IC location that one of her characters "owns". She has a dislike for diplomacy and actual interaction(As she has trouble writing a convincing character) and much prefers fighting.

She cannot accurately convey a character's mood through the speech and actions, resorting to emoticons on every post with some characters. While, as you can see, she mostly does cannons, she does not do them well, resorting to the same personality no matter what the character actually has.

And now, I have this out and I feel better, even if it's impossible to read.

I suppose, for the ease of everyone, it is time to give a sort of cast list.

Alauda Delacroix: Quiet bird girl and openly lesbian. She's had some serious problems with men in the past and suffers from self worth issues. Easily angered by closed minded individuals. The only man she doesn't have trouble with is her adopted brother, Astor.

Albin: Large scarred paladin with strawberry flavored blood. His god is, essentially, Jeremy Bentham, making him a police officer for a really bizarrely liberal society. He's dating a large, obnoxious, angry demoness.

Alianna Adelaide Fionnbharr: Transgendered elf with a tendancy to get drunk due to a mentally abusive family. She's physically male, and likes masculine women. Currently interested in a certain black haired Major with pointy ears.

Anastasio Paredes: Nice enough, funny, and emo as hell. He's immortal, with all the pain that implies. He wants nothing more than death. He's actually slept on Death's couch once or twice. He's dating a fellow suicidal immortal.

Anil Ajith Vemulakonda: Librarian blessed with the ability to make sure people don't remember him. The harder someone thinks about him, the more they know they don't want to think about him. His name means, roughly, "The unconquerable wind from the hill of Vemula"

Astor Delacroix: Crass, brutally honesty, and essentially a mountain man. Which is good, because he was one when he was alive. He's a vampire cop for The Reservation, a miniature city of vampires, demons, dryads, and other freaks. He's got two heavily damaged adopted sisters, and will rip your liver out through your nose if you mess with them.

Balder Gry: Short, stocky, and ugly. He looks like a dwarf with a doll's face. He'd beat you within an inch of your life for calling him a dwarf. Grew up in a high gravity enviroment and was brainwashed into hating supernatural ceatures. He got over it. Dating one of Astor's Sisters.

Bayoa Cox: Nice, sensitive, pathologically honest. He's that honest because he was cursed by a witch whom he cheated on. Now he can't tell a lie, nor break his word. He used to be a highway man, but now he is working for New Ranzile as a Royal Guard, a soldier, an explorer, and occasionally an accountant.

Bonnie: A bit of a mischief maker and a party girl. Who'd have guessed that she, at one time, worked for an evil force stealing talents? Rather easy going, but a tad over-hygienic. Rather ironic, as she loves to have things painted on her.

Corryn: Also known as Coco. Nice, funny, emo as hell if you get him talking about his past. Seven foot of blue fur with a scorpion tail and spider mouth part. He scares the ever-living daylights out of Albin, but they're getting used to each other. He's dating an insane shaman(but I repeat myself).

Darwin: Too many Aliases to list. Over worked, under paid, over sexed. He has a fondness for Hello Kitty and Red Mountain Dew. He's banging the goddess of wounds. Not your Father's Mephistopheles.

Dawson: Also known as Green Apple Boy. Laid back, easy going, and has taken over two planets trying to get a date. Hive mind sharing roughly twenty one bodies, plus whatever extras he happens to pick up. There are roughly twenty three Dawsons, but they're still the same guy. Don't ask.

Dream Bastard: Name says it all, he's a real bastard who happens to live mostly in dreams. He's just kinda lurking in the background doing jack all thanks to the conditions of a cease fire. Currently sleeping with Dri'-fa.

Dri'-fa: Dresses in furs, has pale skin, and generally looks like a snow woman. Not much is really known about her other than the fact that she scares the hell out of Corryn. Currently living with, and sleeping with, the Dream Bastard.

Eadberht:  Nice, confused, has a case of Spider sized blue-balls. He's around  seven foot and has five tentacles growing from his back. Did I mention that he's got brindled fur allowing him to blend in with a brick wall? He used to be a scientist studying genetics. Now he's constantly evolving and adapting.

Feardorcha: Enigmatic hard rock cowboy. He's always back lit. Not much is known about him, we just call him Feardocha because it means "Dark Man".

Fionn: Zenith Informancer generally appearing as a blond human. Either way, he's incapable of feeling pain(it tickles!) and rather awkward because he sees a wealth of words going to waste.

Hammurabi Luthor, M. D.: Kind, friendly, ruthless as hell.  Professional surgeon and sometimes assassin. His wife cut patches of skin off of people and made a quilt.

Hoarfrost: Polite, helpful, scheming, and pure, unadulterated evil. He'll offer to help you out, when there appears to be nothing in it for him. There's always something in it for him. Read Bearskin to get an idea of the result of most of his deals.

Innokentiy: Compulsive do-gooder. He speaks in a weird variant of Nadsat, and gets stronger the more he's hit. He's the kind of guy who runs into a burning building to save people. He's got a symbiotic ghost living inside his body, he calls it Kompressor.

James: The host, Prime Voice, whatever you want to call him. Low self image, has trouble admitting how smart he is. Decent guy, intelligent and capable of putting things together. He needs a cookie.

John Dee: He is every single fictional version of John Dee rolled into one.  He's currently learning programming, and wondering why most people don't bother with machine language. See the Wikipedia entry on the real guy to get a better idea of what he's like.

Junkyard Samurai: First appeared in a fever dream. Imagine if Mifune was brought in to do a steam punk samurai who built his armor in out of random junk. That's this guy. Avoiding being set up on a date with the Discount Bin Ninja.

Lorrie: Bright, peppy, and loves to bake. She'd be a cheerleader if it weren't for the fact that she had some serious trouble with them. Oh, and did I mention that she loves spiders, blood, horror movies, guro, and vore? Or that she has a tendency to bake "Hellcakes" for people she likes. Gigantic bouncing cyclopean cakes with icicle fangs.

Maoelbrawnfhionn: AKA, He of the unspellable name. Insane, happy Fae manifestation of Death. He's some bizarre combination of Puck and The Joker. He's the older brother of Onesiphorus, Svyatopolk, and Valkoinen. It shows.

Megami Lacerato: Goddess of Wounds. She's got a small cult of people who take her as a goddess of self harm, when she's all about getting over it and using your pain in a positive manner. Nice enough, but has a low tollerence for self pity.

Melanthios: Professor of Parapsychology. In the same way that Indiana Jones is a professor of archeology. His wife was killed by a regenerating serial killer, he's been dicked with by a kitsune, and he's the champion of Famine. He's a wreck, but he's staying alive.

Muunokhoi: An ambilitory ball of fluff. He's either a were-Chow Chow, or a were-human. Loyal to a fault, and real popular with the ladies. Speaks and acts like a stereotypical mobster.

Onesiphorus: A demented combination of Xanatos, Lex Luthor, Demona, and Mack the Knife. Nice enough, even if he's a psycho killer. Embodiment of Pestilence and younger brother of Maoelbrawnfhionn, with all the family ties that implies. Interested in both an insane half fae who is likely going to become queen, and a demon hunter. Also probably boinking his butler.

Penope: Oh god! My eyes! Brightly colored and layered. She speaks a jumbled up version of English that looks like what you get when you put The Jaberwock through a spellchecker.  Very nice and sweet, if you can understand her.

Ruby: Also known as Jill Felica Melany Alice Jessica Josephine Annabel Selena Ourania Neith Demeter. She changes daily and monthly.  She's constantly followed by a girl in a bejeweled straight jacked. The girl is named Eris, the straight jacket is Ray.

Burrying Sam: A baffling combination of The Hulk and Witchblade, set in the Wild West. Nice enough, but a tank when he's angry. He used to be a mortician, and had a problem with stealing things from the corpses. Armed with Death's own gun, he's a force to be reconded with.

Seanan: Laid back, intelligent, and King of the Fae Folk. Not just the Fairies, though. He's the king of the Dragons, emperor of the Youkai, and really, really far too powerful for us to avoid looking like complete wankers for having him here.

Son von Drack: A drug addicted psionicist, his ex and possibly future girlfriend was/is a bio-weapon who produced drugs that would knock people out and give them horrible nightmares. She also had the ability to travel into people's dreams. They made a cute couple.
 
Steve: A psychophysical manifestation of the memory, he manifests as a librarian. He's named after Steve Mann, a person with an obsession for documentation, and has turned himself into a cyborg to those ends.

Svyatopolk: You know him, you love him, you're reading his blog! Embodiment of Famine and younger brother of Maoelbrawnfhionn.

Major Thomas Villard: Air Force pilot, NASA test subject, host to an alien symbiote(not of the Marvel type), and somewhat powerful psionicist. Nice enough, even if he is a military man and slightly in denial about this whole thing.

Valkoinen: Also known as V. Sadistic, masochistic, manipulative, and generally insane. Embodiment of War, and younger brother of Maoelbrawnfhionn. Quite level headed and trustworthy, as long as you don't trust him.

Vince: Bounty hunter, owner of several multinational corperations, and smartest man in his world. He made is fortune by blackmailing corperations with his new inventions. Has a tendency to talk his way out of situations to the point where, if someone wants to kill him they send fifty to seventy men after him, in squads of ten, with different tactics, at the same time. A bizarre combination of Shatter, Mr. Terrific, and David Xanatos. He consumes people's brains to get their talents.

Vytautas: Insane, territorial, and a loner. He mostly just wants to be left alone to do what he wants. He has had trouble with adventurers blowing up his walls, so he developed a spell that turns corpses(or living people) into a pile of bricks. He's far too practical for anyone's good.

Zoe Villette: Slightly plump French mage who was born with purple skin, green hair, and the ability to make neutriants from sunlight. Her speciality is moving objects, talents, and properties from one thing to another. Currently owns a magical moving company, and lives in a sentient flying house. She used to be freelance espianoge agent, back in her "Adventuring days". Her ex-boyfriend is a military man who, ever so slightly, torments Alianna's boyfriend. Go figure.

tags: infopost

Greetings everyone, my name is Fionn, and I am a housemate of Svyatopolk's. Which is to say, I too am trapped in the head of a mad man, with only my fellow voices and other insane people for company. I rather enjoy this life. I am a teenage male, my hair is blond, my skin fair, and my mind sharp. I have a bit of brain damage that causes the most interesting problems.

You see, I cannot feel pain. I have never felt it, and I never will. At least, not as you do. That is not how my brain works. A tiny bit of grey matter had shifted around before I was born. It broke a vital connection, a single piece of wire in a massive computer system. This bit of grey matter, this piece of wire, is in charge of, put very simply, confirming that you are in pain. If it is severed, the brain sends a false alarm. The body reacts to false alarms most interestingly. We send out unconscious signals to the rest of the world to say "I'm fine!" You know it as laughter.

If you stab me, it tickles, just like brushing a feather across my skin. I laugh either way. I have adopted behaviors to alert others to the true state of things, but at times I forget. If it is funny, I say "how amusing" and smile. If I hurt, I laugh. It is simple. What is not simple is how this effects me.


My world is split clearly into two halves. Hunger and Joy. I know nothing else. I have no sadness, no fear. I hunger for the company of those who I can no longer speak with, I desire to be safe, away from that which harms me. What else can I do when I know not pain?

I hunger for self improvement, I wish to be better, I wish to know more. I wish I could move. All the pain and sorrow in the world, it is merely shades of a single color, a color that is, to me, red. Joy, even getting hurt, are shade of grey. If you desire to know more about this, about myself, you likely know how to contact me.

I was inspired to actually come out and say all this by a friend, one you likely know as Yuki. Specifically, these two articles. Yes, for those that are just putting it together, I too am of the Zenith. My gnawing pit, my hollow soul, it manifests to me as a hunger I can never feed. That does not mean I do not try to take the edge off by winning little games, by competing. Though I am male, I still have a competitive streak.

Also, I apologize deeply and humbly if I did not make sense, the host is quite ill at the moment. It does not effect me as much as it does some however, it still effects me.

tags: fionn

Yes, I made that joke before... unfortunately, it wasn't much of a joke. I've been leaving subtle hints, but I suppose I'm finally ready to talk about it.  Lumi is dead, and, indirectly, I killed her.The problem is.... I still love her. I loved her when she died, and if she showed up tomorrow, I'd welcome her with open arms. I am a sap, I know. I am an idiot, I know. But I'd be the first to tell her that if she did those crazy messed up things she used to do, I'd dump her on her soft pale ass.

I'm a big softy, I know. I still killed her in an act of Medeaian mercy. For those who have never heard the story, Medea was a powerful witch and wife of Jason[As in Jason and the Argonauts]. She was difficult and headstrong. Jason planned on divorcing her, partly for political reasons, and partly because she was too much woman for him[Hey, I like strong women]. When she found out, she was, understandably livid. She took her revenge, and then she realized that even if she hadn't done all that, life was going to be hell for her two sons. So she killed them, to spare them a life of sorrow. There is, of course, much much more to the story, but that is all that is relevant at the moment.

So, I killed her to save her. It is time, my loyal readers, to tell you the story of Lumi's death. I shall attempt to keep it brief, if you desire more details, you must simply contact me.


As you all are well aware, I had been stalking Lumi for a while. I provided for her, protected her, and did everything a loving husband should, even if I didn't do it in the nicest manner. I am not infallible, let me say that. When I left her alone for a while, she managed to do some... hasty things. She was now running from the police as well as myself. Such a lonely existence she had. I came to her in a human body.

I was pretending to be a thirty something mulberry bush. No, that's not it. A thirty something supernatural investigator, named Ambrose Myrddin. Yes, I'm quite sure some of you get it. If not... Myrddin is the name that Merlin comes from. Ambrose is, of course, a form of Ambrosius, rendering the name Ambrosius Merlin. I should have to give no more clues as to why I chose it. Other than I am not the most creative person.

I stood six three exactly, and I had burns down the left side of my face and neck, rendering me ugly despite the Hero form. I offered my services to keep the spirit at bay. That's right, I fought myself. I prepared spells to simulate the things the "Invisible Ghost" would do. I made it look good. I lost to the "ghost" a few times. And then I "managed to stave it off" and I created a barrier. Any half decent mage would know that something was wrong with the protective circle. I cast protection from good, not evil.

As previously stated, the police were looking for her, in connection with a few murders. The suspected her in my death, now. It was a pity it came so late. Ambrose was a hotblooded boy, strong, attuned to fire. She found him incredibly useful, he loved her. One night we had especially passionate sex, and she laid there, awake yet unconscious. I broke her, as it were. She recovered, naturally and I revealed who I was, and how I felt. I told her that I still loved her, and that I forgave her for everything. I went to take a shower, and while in the shower I heard a gunshot. She had killed herself, and she didn't care enough to leave a good looking corpse.

I didn't mourn her passing, I knew there was life after death. I left, I got something to eat, then I went to the underworld she believed in. She had an unusual belief. She thought that people went to an underworld where one's position was directly related to how many people mourned their death. If they were mourned by no one,  they stood in line in Death's frigid castle mourning themselves and wishing to plead with the master of the underworld for a better place, even if they had to be servants.

She wasn't there. No one mourned her passing, she herself was glad to be gone. I asked the ruler if he had seen her, he hadn't. I checked everywhere, she didn't exist in any underworld or on Earth, this troubled me, and troubles me, extensively. After all, every exit is an entrance somewhere else.

In any case, the police were on their trail, the body was discovered the next day by a corrupt officer, who wanted her to get the death penalty. She had saved the state money, so he was happy.  He had been planning on torturing her, mentally, physically, what ever way he could, to get a confession. Her suicide saved her from much unpleasantness.


That is my story, and I thank you for being patient.

music: Prefab Sprout - The Ice Maiden

No, you are not seeing double. The fellow mentioned later in this entry killed himself earlier, by erasing himself from everything. He exists now only in Daria's memories, and in this article I have written. Somehow, this is fitting.

Yes, there are three. I'm not the only one wanting the attentions of that certain young lady. Yes, the one whose head I messed with to recreate my lost love. I'm sorry for it, well and truely. First I should describe what I did in a little more detail.

She had this memory problem. Actually, I suppose it isn't much of a problem, given that it was functioning exactly the way she wanted it to. She was repressing past events which hurt her greatly. I, like the insensitive clod I am, decided to bring her memory back, thinking it to be in her best interest. I thought it would be good for her. I made a few artful additions, to attempt to insure that she'd become the person I missed so dearly. A recreation, a simulacrum of Rajani. I failed miserably, and for this I am glad. My mind was warped by the power he gave me. I suppose I am the River Mnemosyne, drink of the waters and regain all you have lost.

Next comes Valkoinen. He's the man responsible for most of those horrible things that she repressed. He did it all to mold her into the woman he wanted, even though she was predisposed to these things already. All she needed was a simple little push. Or several pushes.  Either way, he shaped her, he molded her. He's convinced that all these things were in her best interest, they made her that much stronger. Maybe he's right, that still doesn't make it justified. He is, quite possibly, the river Styx, if you lose your footing, you shall drown in the muddy watters for all eternity.

Finally, we are brought to our newest member, Onesiphorus. He was prepared to give up everything for her. His memory, his wealth, his life. He came into our lives with absolutely no memory of who he was or what he wanted. He picked his name out of a book, he was that far gone. Everything was sealed inside a single pin, an we managed to get it out. It turned out that he put his memory there, and gambled that we'd retrieve it, or at least only part of it.
He met the young woman like this too, a lost richman who knew nothing other than he was a monster, being terrified by monsters. He gave everything up for a woman, even his existance. He is, most definitely the River Lethe. Drink of his green waters and live in ignorance, never knowing what you have, or what you have lost.

Together we form a cycle, Genesis, Stasis, Necrosis. Beginning, middle, end. We're the Fates, I suppose. Enough musing.

music: The Beatles - I'm a Loser

I've got a few. You see... I'm not the only one wanting the attentions of that certain young lady. Yes, the one whose head I messed with to recreate my lost love. I'm sorry for it, well and truely. First I should describe what I did in a little more detail.

She had this memory problem. Actually, I suppose it isn't much of a problem, given that it was functioning exactly the way she wanted it to. She was repressing past events which hurt her greatly. I, like the insensitive clod I am, decided to bring her memory back, thinking it to be in her best interest. I thought it would be good for her. I made a few artful additions, to attempt to insure that she'd become the person I missed so dearly. A recreation, a simulacrum of Rajani. I failed miserably, and for this I am glad. My mind was warped by the power he gave me. I suppose I am the River Mnemosyne, drink of the waters and regain all you have lost.

Next comes Valkoinen. He's the man responsible for most of those horrible things that she repressed. He did it all to mold her into the woman he wanted, even though she was predisposed to these things already. All she needed was a simple little push. Or several pushes.  Either way, he shaped her, he molded her. He's convinced that all these things were in her best interest, they made her that much stronger. Maybe he's right, that still doesn't make it justified. He is, quite possibly, the river Styx, if you lose your footing, you shall drown in the muddy watters for all eternity.

Sometimes he's friend, some times he's foe. Either way, it always pays to know.

music: The Toadis - Push the Hand

Well /b/oys and ghouls, it's been a while since I updated. No one noticed, I'm sure. It started as "Just a couple of days", while we were sick. Then the laptop died. Then I went insane. What story to you all want hmmm?

How about an action packed story of a multiple, inside the head of a multiple, halucinating wildly? And becoming entirely too constipated for their own good? What? You don't want to hear about two days of wondering if it was going to be jagged glass in your bowels? Awww... I was just gearing up to tell it too.

What about  a laptop power coard slowly working it's way loose, conspiring to make us do the 220 jig? No? But I like talking about electrocution!

Alright already, I'll talk about my going insane and doing some really nasty things. First up, there was someone inside my head. Personally, my head. I didn't remember him, but there he was.  His name is Hoarfrost, and he's, well, not the nicest guy.

He's tall, he's got blue hair and this nice, soft skin. He's polite and only wants to help. He's exactly what I always thought the devil would be like. Self serving to the end, he helped me because it helped him. I gave him cartblance to proform all the mischief he wanted, in return for his help in getting back my lost love, Rajani.

In his credit, he did help me a lot. He also clouded my vision horribly. Rather than build her over here, we decided that it would be best to do it somewhere else. We chose the mind of a friend, and for that I am deeply sorry. Remember the red thong? The owner of said garment became the target of our attack. She lacked a history, so we provided one. One that would make sure she became Rajani. We did it slowly, sneakily, piece by piece in such a way that she thought she was remembering it. Maybe she was. We made sure that it couldn't be traced back to me.

 It took a little while, but they finally caught on. They being my gracious host and the host of the woman I was attempting to manipulate. Things were going pearshaped and I panicked. He calmly, cooly, fucked up my head so bad that it looked like he had been in control all along, and then hid himself deep inside. From this position, we fortified the outside, making sure it would take some time and effort to get things back to normal, and I'd look like a victim. It was a good plan.

It didn't work. It slowed things down until James got aid from Hoarfrost's opposite number... then it was over. Several rapid fire events later, Hoarfrost was gone, and I was a gibbering wreck, and vomiting wooden dice. Go ahead, laugh. I still caugh them up occasionally.

James passed out soon after. He over exerted himself with all that, and we all slept rather well. We woke up the next day, and Hoarfrost had broken his containment, and spoke with a friend for around four hours. While speaking with her, he ran amok in here, turning several people into humiliating things. Some because he was pissed, some because he thought it was funny.

I've finally recovered. The worst part of all this is, I appologised to the woman I wronged, and do you want to know her response? She said that she was glad that I had done it. I had manipulated her, I had wronged her, and she THANKED ME for being an utter bastard. I just don't understand people these days.


I'm insane, I manipulated a person into becoming the woman I miss from my home, and I caused a bunch of unplesant things to my housemates, and no one blames me. I was greedy and stupid, and no one blames me. This must be hell, I must have truely passed on now.

music: Gowan - A Criminal Mind

As I mentioned, I have housemates now. I don't live in my domain anymore, it was quite a surprise, waking up up in what appeared to be an empty bar, a flat-screen tv on the wall. I should mention something, last time I was really around technology was the eighties.

When I awoke, I was speaking to someone on the phone. I thought it was a cellphone, no, it was merely a standard cordless. I shall not bore you with details. But, I am a voice in someones head.

Think back, way back, to the beginning. You know, five, six days ago. I told you this could be any number of things. It still can. Just because I admitted to being a head voice doesn't mean I'm not still REAL. I live inside the head of a strange fellow, and I am not alone. We live in this large castle that, from the out side, looks like a closet. Hey, minds don't have to make sense.

Now, I should introduce someone. You remember the parenthesis? That's James, the resident system mangler and owner of this body. I'd say he's the one that cooked me up, but he's not. Say hello James. (Hello James!) That joke is so old that Moses groaned at it. (You got something better?) Sorry to say, I don't. James is my editor, of sorts. He's also the voice of you guys. If something doesn't make sense, he points it out. He's not the only one I have to deal with, but he's the best about it. If I really need to, I'll introduce the others.

He let me have this blog as an experiment. That and I kept bugging him, and I promised to drive him even more insane he didn't give it to me. (Yeah, and you played the same song for six hours even though I did give it to you.) Hey, I LIKE Hellbender Turbulence. (Only because it reminds you of Rajani.) So sue me, I'm lonely.

Speaking of Lonely, I figured out whose thong that was. It hit me all the way from Maine. Quite an arm on that little lady.


So, that's the housemate. My headmates... I have a lot. My family has been collecting them since before the Spanish Inquisition. I'd like to say I have an unbroken chain of memory all the way back to that,  but all I've got are sins and the bad parts of people. I am an unbroken mass of Id. You can't tell, can you? Now, there's no one famous in here. Just some serial killers who never got caught, some politicians, anyone wealthy enough to pay for the services in the beginning, and anyone odd enough to follow my religion.

I think I've said enough for now, I'm going to let my readers, both of you, digest this. You won't need the time, but the internet is acting up and I don't want to lose what I have.

music: Beatles - Blackbird

First up, I'm not really happy with my previous entries, and it's only been what, six days now? I'm probably going to rewrite them, or post something more coherent. I've been rushing, wanting to lay enough back story to get to the present and not have to go "Oh, yeah, you guys have no clue who Rajani is, yet."

So, that was the whine. Now onto the women. I've mentioned my ex-wife, Lumi. Time to describe her a bit. She was... absolutely beautiful. She was short, with such wonderful soft features, and such lovely long flaxen curls. Her eyes were a pale blue, and her skin was such a delicate, pale shade. She did not wear earrings or have tattoos, for she did not wish to defile the sanctuary that was her body. For those who haven't guessed by her name, she was Finnish, neither here nor there, but something that should be mentioned.
Lumi loved the snow, loved winter. Of course. She was the kindest, most loving women I have ever met. It's a pity all those good qualities hid a pernicious, baleful soul. She cuddles up to you, and rubs your back, marking out in advance good places to stick her miasmatic machete. When the time happens to be right, she'll dispose of you, like so you were simply another piece of detritus cluttering her nice clean house.
Upon reading what I just wrote, I must reconsider what I said earlier. Maybe I AM emo. Nah, too old for that. (You're never too old to be emo.) Hush, I 'm not going to introduce you for another entry or so. (So?) You'll confuse the readers if you keep that up.

Right. Now onto Rajani. She is my current romantic interest. I cannot say she's my girlfriend, as we aren't as regular as that. We may not get together for months, and she keeps trying to force me into a corner. While Lumi would stab you in the back, Rajani always found perfectly good places to get you in the front. Notice I have yet to really describe her. I was putting it off to avoid gushing.
She's tall, athletic, and with sharp features. They look good on her. Her hair is a luscious sable, soft and long. Her eyes are a wonderful piercing green with a jagged ring of yellow around the pupil, always watching, always alert. She even sleeps with them half open, isn't that cute?
(How is that relevant?) Well, it does describe her. (Well, back to the description, I suppose.)  Right. Where was I? She her skin is this beautiful tawny brown. Her entire body is well proportioned, and covered in these intricate tattoos, ancient words and depictions of people and places. An illustrated woman.
Her legs like canyon walls, her hips are perfect and constantly swaying. And her tail, ooooh, it's long, slender, and tipped with a spade. Perfect, sexy.
(Wait, Rajani is a demoness?) Didn't I explain? Oh, that's right, I edited that out, guess I better explain that here. Oh, and I forgot her horns and her nose ring. And the other facial piercings.
Rajani is, what we called back home anyway, a Hellbender. She's a type of summoner, they force or trick demons and other monsters into contracts and "borrow" bits of them for their own personal use. Now, this doesn't really have any harmful effect on the demon, other than that they have their abilities lowered when she's borrowing those parts. For higher level demons, they might not even notice. Lower ones, this can be devastating. Oh, and they're put On Call by the Hellbender. Annoying, but usually not life threatening.

She and I fight often, and we're actually decently matched. She can usually force me up to ninety percent power. Remember, I don't make deals, I make bets. I win, I get her... companionship, for a while. It gets lonely, don't judge me. Naturally, if she won, I'd have to give her my services.

As for the thong, well, actually, this is more for my house mates. Would the owner of the red, enchanted thong please claim it? None of you want to see me modeling it, and it wouldn't fit me anyway.  So, just, take my word for it. I'll return it to it's rightful owner, but she has to prove it's hers.
Hey, I get lonely, don't judge me.

music: Lordi - Hellbender Turbulance

My ex-wife, Lumi... I used to love her, but I had to kill her. No, not really, I don't kill people, just not that kind of guy.  I promised her that I'd always protect her, that I'd always watch over her.  I couldn't break those promises, now could I? She killed me, sure. It happens. That doesn't mean I can just stop protecting her, just stop watching her. She didn't think that she'd ever get caught, technically, she hasn't yet. For a while this really irked me.
I mean, she killed me, why wouldn't it be infuriating that she got away with it? Then I realized something, I promised her I'd protect her. Just because I'm dead, that doesn't mean I should let go of that. So, I took to making sure  she never got caught, by making sure she never got a chance to do it again. Yes, I do care for my fellow man, and yes, I probably thought of that first but I was still keeping my promise. I kept her moving, I kept her running, from me.
I promised I'd provide for her. I never promised I'd give her an abundance. She gets, and can keep, enough to survive. If she doesn't have enough, some random stranger will provide, if she comes into a windfall, she gets mugged.

Naturally, I had some free time. Hell and Lumi didn't take up all my time, and I no longer needed to sleep, though I often would out of sheer habit. What did I do? I'd find a man, desperate for money, not just any man but a fighter, and I'd show up in human form. I'd challenge him to a fight, make a bet. If I won, well,  I'd take his soul, or that's what I said. In reality, I'd merely absorb his sins, leaving him with memory gaps. If I lost, he'd get a large amount of money. An ATM card that never went dry, as it were. I put a few other stipulations in there of course.
The men had nothing to lose, and everything to gain, they took the bet. Now, my loyal readers are probably shouting "But you're a demon lord, how could they win?" The simple answer is that I held back, and surrendered if I knew that I couldn't win at that level. At first, I lost. A lot. Once I got used to it, I started winning.

These two hobbies, and administrative duties, took up most of my time. The remaining few hours were spent on a variety of things. Helping those who indirectly called on me, and chasing women. Sometimes, I caught them.