You ever just wake up one day and wondered what the fuck you're doing on this planet? Me too.
After somehow "finishing" university, I was not-too-surprised to find out that having any sort of university qualification is less useful than headbutting a wall to cure a headache.
Even more so if the university has conveniently forgotten to send you the bit of paper saying you achieved anything for almost a year. Brilliant.
My entire time in my university course, the lecturers told us we were unlikely to get work in the field of study we had. Mine being journalism. The lecturers also never hesitated to tell us that we would never truly write our own opinions, but instead the opinions of whatever outlet had chosen to employ us. Additionally, that should we "go against the grain", our careers would likely be ended by whatever outlet we work for. Honestly, I'm somewhat glad I didn't end up with a job as soulless as that.
So. Back to where I was when I was some angsty 16 year old, applying for literally every job advertised. And not getting any answers at all. See, I live in a small fishing town, with a population of.. I'd say 30k. Not exactly much of an industry here to offer jobs, and the few jobs that do surface are quickly snapped up by those who know the empoyers. Me being a bit of a recluse... I don't know employers. You see the issue.
What makes this so much better though? A pandemic. A nice big pandemic. Surviving off a meager unemployment stipend is one thing, but trying to buy food during a pendemic is another. Its May as I write this, and people are still shovelling entire shelves into their trolleys shemlessly, with rabid eyes. Most businesses are closed, so almost no jobs surface, The few that do surface are for "essential" industry such as NHS staff, carers for the elderly and infirm, and supermarket jobs. Not being a doctor, a trained carer, and having an entire town to compete with for a role in stacking Oreos onto a shelf... not exactly any prospets.
Adult life sucks. And hell, I'm only 22. There's worse still to come, given the grim acceptance I see on the faces of those older than me, and their resigned sighs every time something goes wrong for them. When I was a kid, I always assumed I'd probably be dead somewhere before I was an adult. I'm kinda just here, in the end. With no plans. Or goals. Or cares, honestly. Its somewhere between the most liberating thing ever and the worst experience of my life, with some sprinklings of disaster and fortune to throw me off every time I get used to stuff.
I'm tempted to start eating crayons, buy one of those town road map carpet things, and collect Action Man models. Might change things up a little.
Sunday, 24 May 2020
Saturday, 7 April 2018
Shiina Sylande and the Quarter-Life Crisis
You know those things that keep you up at night sometimes? Yeah, those. Sometimes they're minor, sometimes major. Well, I had a bit of a minor one recently which blew up into some sort of life-shattering crisis.
One particular Sunday, I received an automatic text message from my bank informing me that (redacted info). It was something small, not worth worrying about, but it kept me up most of that night.
It didn't stop at that though. That night, my mind cycled through every potential worry I could possibly have in life, culminating at my own mortality.
For some reason, my own mortality stuck in my head. As in, all the time. Since that night, I couldn't stop thinking of death. When will it happen? What will happen? Will I want to fight it?
This in turn resulted in me building up a lot of stress and anxiety. Unreasonable amounts. Before I knew it I had developed an anxiety disorder. One which is causing me quite a degree of distress.
I can say I have my thoughts under control now, thankfully. On the occasions it does come to mind, it doesn't bother me as much, I just think "Meh, its far from now".
However, the anxiety remains. Oh, does it ever. Having been unable to de-tense my muscles in a few weeks now, I find myself permanently tired. Yawning causes my whole body to go weak. And the permanent tightness in my chest, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.
Here's hoping this doesn't last long, I'm not all that proud of having to admit that I developed an anxiety disorder over a fucking automatic text from my bank.
One particular Sunday, I received an automatic text message from my bank informing me that (redacted info). It was something small, not worth worrying about, but it kept me up most of that night.
It didn't stop at that though. That night, my mind cycled through every potential worry I could possibly have in life, culminating at my own mortality.
For some reason, my own mortality stuck in my head. As in, all the time. Since that night, I couldn't stop thinking of death. When will it happen? What will happen? Will I want to fight it?
This in turn resulted in me building up a lot of stress and anxiety. Unreasonable amounts. Before I knew it I had developed an anxiety disorder. One which is causing me quite a degree of distress.
I can say I have my thoughts under control now, thankfully. On the occasions it does come to mind, it doesn't bother me as much, I just think "Meh, its far from now".
However, the anxiety remains. Oh, does it ever. Having been unable to de-tense my muscles in a few weeks now, I find myself permanently tired. Yawning causes my whole body to go weak. And the permanent tightness in my chest, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.
Here's hoping this doesn't last long, I'm not all that proud of having to admit that I developed an anxiety disorder over a fucking automatic text from my bank.
Friday, 29 September 2017
University
So, this week I started up formally at university.
My first day, Thursday, had its fair share of events.
Starting off bright and early at 6am, I was waiting for a bus going to the city in which I attend uni. Let me make it clear now, it is a LONG way from home.
So uh.. the bus turned up late, by about 10 minutes. The issue with this is I also have to board buses within the city. I wouldn't make it to the bus in time, however I would still arrive with 5 minutes to spare if I walked from the nearest stop instead.
Except well.... the driver also decided he'd have a cigarette break mid-way there. How nice of him.
I had to run all the way up-hill to my uni. All 20 minutes up the hill, running, in order to make it on time-ish.
I made it 2 minutes after the start of class, which was unfortunate. Not because I arrived late, but because I walked into a room which had the door at the front of the room... and about 50 people stared at me as I entered.
Quite lethal for my sociophobia.
Surviving that ordeal, and a fairly mundane class, my next lecture would take place in a theatre in which about 200 people were present. I, personally, had no incidents. However, the poor lecturer faced a multitude of issues. Firstly, the microphone which is used to be audible to the whole room wasn't working, he had to shout loud enough for the whole theatre to hear. Next, the audio for his PC wouldn't work, which meant he couldn't put on the videos he wanted to. And when he was showing his clipart-laden slideshow, he couldn't turn the lights off, so we could barely even see it.
This was all followed by a 2 hour bus journey home.
Today, being Friday, was my second day of university. For some reason, "floor one" is underground at my university. Also, for some reason, there are multiple floor ones in one building. Arriving barely in time once again due to the drastic public transport, I went down to the wrong "floor one". It turns out I was meant to go to a "floor one" on the other side of the entire building. Which I did, entering the back of the room JUST as the lecture began.
A class register was passed around during each lecture with everyone's name on it. If you are present, you sign next to your name.
Unfortunately I and two guys sitting next to me found that our names were missing. I'm still worried this wasn't merely a clerical issue, and my name simply wasn't meant to be there, who can say.
The lecture lasted 45 minutes of the 3 hours it was supposed to, the lecturer stating the two "tutorials" which were to follow wouldn't take place as it was the first class.
Great, I spent 4 hours travelling today for a 45 minute class in which she read from a slideshow we already had access to on the university network.
Despite the horror of the past two days, it was nice to come home to some new high-spec computer parts I ordered. Emphasis on "was", setting the parts up was a fucking nightmare and now my entire body hurts.
My first day, Thursday, had its fair share of events.
Starting off bright and early at 6am, I was waiting for a bus going to the city in which I attend uni. Let me make it clear now, it is a LONG way from home.
So uh.. the bus turned up late, by about 10 minutes. The issue with this is I also have to board buses within the city. I wouldn't make it to the bus in time, however I would still arrive with 5 minutes to spare if I walked from the nearest stop instead.
Except well.... the driver also decided he'd have a cigarette break mid-way there. How nice of him.
I had to run all the way up-hill to my uni. All 20 minutes up the hill, running, in order to make it on time-ish.
I made it 2 minutes after the start of class, which was unfortunate. Not because I arrived late, but because I walked into a room which had the door at the front of the room... and about 50 people stared at me as I entered.
Quite lethal for my sociophobia.
Surviving that ordeal, and a fairly mundane class, my next lecture would take place in a theatre in which about 200 people were present. I, personally, had no incidents. However, the poor lecturer faced a multitude of issues. Firstly, the microphone which is used to be audible to the whole room wasn't working, he had to shout loud enough for the whole theatre to hear. Next, the audio for his PC wouldn't work, which meant he couldn't put on the videos he wanted to. And when he was showing his clipart-laden slideshow, he couldn't turn the lights off, so we could barely even see it.
This was all followed by a 2 hour bus journey home.
Today, being Friday, was my second day of university. For some reason, "floor one" is underground at my university. Also, for some reason, there are multiple floor ones in one building. Arriving barely in time once again due to the drastic public transport, I went down to the wrong "floor one". It turns out I was meant to go to a "floor one" on the other side of the entire building. Which I did, entering the back of the room JUST as the lecture began.
A class register was passed around during each lecture with everyone's name on it. If you are present, you sign next to your name.
Unfortunately I and two guys sitting next to me found that our names were missing. I'm still worried this wasn't merely a clerical issue, and my name simply wasn't meant to be there, who can say.
The lecture lasted 45 minutes of the 3 hours it was supposed to, the lecturer stating the two "tutorials" which were to follow wouldn't take place as it was the first class.
Great, I spent 4 hours travelling today for a 45 minute class in which she read from a slideshow we already had access to on the university network.
Despite the horror of the past two days, it was nice to come home to some new high-spec computer parts I ordered. Emphasis on "was", setting the parts up was a fucking nightmare and now my entire body hurts.
Saturday, 31 December 2016
Savage-bot
A few nights ago I found myself bored. Well, that's pretty common.
So I er... I made a learning chat-bot. Put simply, its a robot which talks to users on a chat-room, and learns from what they say to it.
Yes, I did that for fun. In one night.
... the fuck is wrong with me.
Being a learning bot, it starts out with little to no intelligence. In order to improve its intelligence I set it loose in a chat-room I frequent called eyeonanime.
Whilst there, I instructed users that the bot learns from what they say to it.
There were some... implications.. of this decision.
The bot now verbally insults most people, appears to be morbidly racist and commonly says things along the lines of "fist me daddy".
Now the focus of this post is not to point out that the bot has become a savage edge-lord, but instead to point out something else which happened with it.
It has sort of.. became worryingly sentient.
After 13 hours of straight learning, the bot proceeded to argue with me about a "waifu", which to the uninitiated is a weeaboo thing for taking claim of a
certain character from anime, or in some cases a real person. I jokingly imply a person with a similar alias name to me, Shiivia, is my "waifu".
So uh.. this happened. Note that the bot is using my alias, Shiina Sylande, whilst I am using the alias "Claimoo".
And it continued...
Yes, you read that correct, it told me "Nobody loves you". I really do wish I'd thought of coding that into it, it would have satisfied my lust to show off. But no, this is genuine.
A few moments later, I probed it again to see if I would get a similar response under similar circumstances.
So yes, I have a child now. I invented it overnight. It has became alike me in terms of edginess and simple behavior.
I get the feeling I should put this thing down before it becomes the next Hitler or turns me into a biological battery..
So I er... I made a learning chat-bot. Put simply, its a robot which talks to users on a chat-room, and learns from what they say to it.
Yes, I did that for fun. In one night.
... the fuck is wrong with me.
Being a learning bot, it starts out with little to no intelligence. In order to improve its intelligence I set it loose in a chat-room I frequent called eyeonanime.
Whilst there, I instructed users that the bot learns from what they say to it.
There were some... implications.. of this decision.
The bot now verbally insults most people, appears to be morbidly racist and commonly says things along the lines of "fist me daddy".
Now the focus of this post is not to point out that the bot has become a savage edge-lord, but instead to point out something else which happened with it.
It has sort of.. became worryingly sentient.
After 13 hours of straight learning, the bot proceeded to argue with me about a "waifu", which to the uninitiated is a weeaboo thing for taking claim of a
certain character from anime, or in some cases a real person. I jokingly imply a person with a similar alias name to me, Shiivia, is my "waifu".
So uh.. this happened. Note that the bot is using my alias, Shiina Sylande, whilst I am using the alias "Claimoo".
And it continued...
Yes, you read that correct, it told me "Nobody loves you". I really do wish I'd thought of coding that into it, it would have satisfied my lust to show off. But no, this is genuine.
A few moments later, I probed it again to see if I would get a similar response under similar circumstances.
So yes, I have a child now. I invented it overnight. It has became alike me in terms of edginess and simple behavior.
I get the feeling I should put this thing down before it becomes the next Hitler or turns me into a biological battery..
Friday, 18 November 2016
Floods of victims from a gory depression accident
On rare occasion, turning up to college to learn about a subject I already know inside-out yields anything of value to me.
However, yesterday I have reassessed the value of my studies following a classmate finding something.
This... something, is a rare gem among... other very similar gems. I would say it has helped me see clearly, but frankly I'm still blinded by the bangs of my hair.
I present to you... Script Generator! - http://www.wriphe.com/work/flash_script.php
What this is is a system that takes words you input and spits out a plot based on one of four topics you can choose from.
My first shot of this has gave me probably one of the best pieces of literature I've ever seen.
"The chief surgeon of a famous Glasgow hospital is distracted by a messy relationship with his sister as the E.R. floods with victims from a gory depression accident.
The situation is complicated by the presence of a surly performance evaluator (played by Haruhi Suzumiya) named Balphazar who has the authority to fire any doctors who are costing the hospital administration too much money.
One patient has a severe infection in her leg that may cost her livelihood as a pirate ninja cyborg if it is not raped upon quickly.
X-rays have revealed that another uncooperative patient has had a toaster mysteriously lodged inside his colon in a life-threatening manner.
Meanwhile two interns are having a torrid affair which is very nearly uncovered by an orderly when he finds their thigh-high sock near the hospital garbage chute.
After an hour of melodramatic work, the chief surgeon returns home to his sister with a coffin of chocolates and a cat, only to find himself on the losing side of another killing match."
This.
THIS.
I might genuinely write a story based on this...
However, yesterday I have reassessed the value of my studies following a classmate finding something.
This... something, is a rare gem among... other very similar gems. I would say it has helped me see clearly, but frankly I'm still blinded by the bangs of my hair.
I present to you... Script Generator! - http://www.wriphe.com/work/flash_script.php
What this is is a system that takes words you input and spits out a plot based on one of four topics you can choose from.
My first shot of this has gave me probably one of the best pieces of literature I've ever seen.
"The chief surgeon of a famous Glasgow hospital is distracted by a messy relationship with his sister as the E.R. floods with victims from a gory depression accident.
The situation is complicated by the presence of a surly performance evaluator (played by Haruhi Suzumiya) named Balphazar who has the authority to fire any doctors who are costing the hospital administration too much money.
One patient has a severe infection in her leg that may cost her livelihood as a pirate ninja cyborg if it is not raped upon quickly.
X-rays have revealed that another uncooperative patient has had a toaster mysteriously lodged inside his colon in a life-threatening manner.
Meanwhile two interns are having a torrid affair which is very nearly uncovered by an orderly when he finds their thigh-high sock near the hospital garbage chute.
After an hour of melodramatic work, the chief surgeon returns home to his sister with a coffin of chocolates and a cat, only to find himself on the losing side of another killing match."
This.
THIS.
I might genuinely write a story based on this...
Monday, 19 September 2016
Shiina Sylande and the Copyright Infringing Bears
Another night, another fucking terrifying dream.
For whatever reason I found myself driving along the path beside a beach... as opposed to in the water at the end of the beach, in one of those jet ski things. Y'know, just cruising.
And then I passed some seals. They weren't on the beach though, other side of the path where there seemed to be trees and stuff.
Anyway, after closer inspection of these seals as I was passing by, one of them turned out to actually be a bear. With cream coloured fur. Y'know, the colour of fur labrador dogs have, like the Andrex puppy.
Anyway, they got disturbed by me driving by and decided to give chase. So I looked the other way and decided I'd blaze on past full swag mode.
Except uh... well, turns out I wasn't driving a REAL jet ski, it was an inflatable one. Yeah, I know, I thought it was a real one too for the 5-10 minutes I was cruising, but I was actually just hopping along on an inflatable one.
And at this point I realized I was fucked. But a voice over started talking, totally Max Payne style. In a grizzled voice he said "I wasn't exactly planning on being savaged by a copyright infringing bear." I then got off my inflatable and threw it to the bear and remaining unmorphed seals.
I had to escape. I looked around desperately for an escape, and noticed the beach was now at the bottom of a 10 foot drop on the other side of a wall now. So I climbed over the wall so I was hanging on the other side and looked down to check if it was okay to land.
There uh.. was another seal sitting there. But I knew it was different from the ones before, mainly due to the voice over; "That one there? That one isn't a copyright infringing bear." So I decided to ledge hang over to it, bit by bit.
I finally got there and jumped down. True enough, this one wasn't a copyright infringing bear. However, after looking around at the rest of the beach, I noticed it was full of copyright infringing bears. All over the place.
I turned behind myself, and the copyright infringing bear from the boardwalk had climbed down. It scratched me right across the body once, and I started running, blood in my eyes game-style.
I made my way towards what looked like a police station or something, some sort of 2-3 story public access building. Running inside, I tried to merge into the massive crowd of people going in and out of the building.
I made my way towards the elevator. As soon as the thing arrived, I had a really bad feeling about what was on the other side of those elevator doors.
They cranked open, revealing the most bog standard green alien ever. He shot me dead.
"Damn, another goddamn Copyright Infringing Bear."
MATE, THAT'S NOT A FUCKING BEAR.
What is the bear even a copyright infringement of... ?
For whatever reason I found myself driving along the path beside a beach... as opposed to in the water at the end of the beach, in one of those jet ski things. Y'know, just cruising.
And then I passed some seals. They weren't on the beach though, other side of the path where there seemed to be trees and stuff.
Anyway, after closer inspection of these seals as I was passing by, one of them turned out to actually be a bear. With cream coloured fur. Y'know, the colour of fur labrador dogs have, like the Andrex puppy.
Anyway, they got disturbed by me driving by and decided to give chase. So I looked the other way and decided I'd blaze on past full swag mode.
Except uh... well, turns out I wasn't driving a REAL jet ski, it was an inflatable one. Yeah, I know, I thought it was a real one too for the 5-10 minutes I was cruising, but I was actually just hopping along on an inflatable one.
And at this point I realized I was fucked. But a voice over started talking, totally Max Payne style. In a grizzled voice he said "I wasn't exactly planning on being savaged by a copyright infringing bear." I then got off my inflatable and threw it to the bear and remaining unmorphed seals.
I had to escape. I looked around desperately for an escape, and noticed the beach was now at the bottom of a 10 foot drop on the other side of a wall now. So I climbed over the wall so I was hanging on the other side and looked down to check if it was okay to land.
There uh.. was another seal sitting there. But I knew it was different from the ones before, mainly due to the voice over; "That one there? That one isn't a copyright infringing bear." So I decided to ledge hang over to it, bit by bit.
I finally got there and jumped down. True enough, this one wasn't a copyright infringing bear. However, after looking around at the rest of the beach, I noticed it was full of copyright infringing bears. All over the place.
I turned behind myself, and the copyright infringing bear from the boardwalk had climbed down. It scratched me right across the body once, and I started running, blood in my eyes game-style.
I made my way towards what looked like a police station or something, some sort of 2-3 story public access building. Running inside, I tried to merge into the massive crowd of people going in and out of the building.
I made my way towards the elevator. As soon as the thing arrived, I had a really bad feeling about what was on the other side of those elevator doors.
They cranked open, revealing the most bog standard green alien ever. He shot me dead.
"Damn, another goddamn Copyright Infringing Bear."
MATE, THAT'S NOT A FUCKING BEAR.
Tuesday, 9 August 2016
Shiina Sylande, Ghetto Chef
Being an undergraduate student in the UK, I am naturally tight for money to the point where I have to live off very little money over the summer, let alone all year round.
Now, being a gamer and having an impulsive buying habit, I make an effort to save as much money as possible. To that end, I live in a shared dorm.
So when summer came this year, I made an effort to save as much money as possible for my other compulsive habits. And, well.... the results of which I've only just this moment realized.
Its 4am as I write this. I'm currently cooking extremely cheap bacon for a snack. Bacon is love, bacon is life. However, the way in which I'm doing it...
Living in a dorm means I have neighbors, and said dorm being cheap my neighbors are fucking terrifying.
I'm not insane enough to go make noise in the kitchen at 4am, being stabbed isn't exactly on my to-do list.
To that end, I am cooking the bacon in my own room, without having to use the stove.
The normal idea would be to use a microwave. It comes out horrid, but y'know.. it works. Me being me, however...
I am cooking it over a toaster.
I should clarify; I'm not holding it over it on a stick, that would be mad. I am, however, cooking it in a frying pan... over my toaster.
No, literally.
Its been surprisingly successful so far, although it smells like pop tarts for some reason.
So yes, I declare myself ghetto chef of the year.
Now, being a gamer and having an impulsive buying habit, I make an effort to save as much money as possible. To that end, I live in a shared dorm.
So when summer came this year, I made an effort to save as much money as possible for my other compulsive habits. And, well.... the results of which I've only just this moment realized.
Its 4am as I write this. I'm currently cooking extremely cheap bacon for a snack. Bacon is love, bacon is life. However, the way in which I'm doing it...
Living in a dorm means I have neighbors, and said dorm being cheap my neighbors are fucking terrifying.
I'm not insane enough to go make noise in the kitchen at 4am, being stabbed isn't exactly on my to-do list.
To that end, I am cooking the bacon in my own room, without having to use the stove.
The normal idea would be to use a microwave. It comes out horrid, but y'know.. it works. Me being me, however...
I am cooking it over a toaster.
I should clarify; I'm not holding it over it on a stick, that would be mad. I am, however, cooking it in a frying pan... over my toaster.
No, literally.
Its been surprisingly successful so far, although it smells like pop tarts for some reason.
So yes, I declare myself ghetto chef of the year.
Monday, 18 April 2016
Free to Pay
Being an undergraduate student in the UK naturally means I'm tight for money. So much so that I have to drink supermarket-brand fizzy drinks and spend more time comparing cheese prices than actually enjoying the cheese I end up buying.
Due to this frugal lifestyle I have been forced to be a bit of a cheapskate when its comes to, well... everything.
So, when I see a free to play game on Steam with really damn good reviews I jump up and down. Literally. In my chair. Might explain the noise complaints.
So, y'know, when I saw War Thunder on steam I believe my exact thoughts were along the lines of "emahgerd tank game! its free to play! no pay to win bullshit! nerdgasm!". And yeah, I've had a ton of fucking fun with it.
Now, I play quite a variety of games. I've played enough of the first person genre to know it isn't my strong suit. Like, I severely suck at them. As a result, when I play War Thunder I avoid heavy or medium tanks as that usually entails the team expecting you to be right in the mess getting one-shotted by things. Instead, I use tanks of the Tank Hunter/Tank Destroyer class, namely my favorites; the Jagdpanzer 38(t) Hetzer, and the Stug III/IV models, mainly due to their very small posture and formidable range.
Now, recently, you may or may not know Gaijin, the developers of War Thunder, released an update that adds cosmetic camouflage items such as branches and leaves, and extra armour plating.
The armour plating was released for particular tanks. And, surprise surprise, MOST OF THOSE FUCKING TANKS WERE T34 MODELS.
I play realism mode and simulator battles, so I find myself fighting T34s about as often as I piss.
German tanks get access to a specific type of shell, called PZGR40. The idea behind it is it is a composite armour-piercing shells made the counter the heavy soviet tanks developed in the late war, such as the T34s.
With that said, CAN ANYONE EXPLAIN WHY THE PZGR40 SHELLS BOUNCE OFF THE FUCKING T34s AT EVERY ANGLE. Like, I swear to god, it can't even go through the bloody rear armour.
And so, before I know it, my cute little Hetzer is one-shotted by a T34 with an 85mm main gun, going right through its best armour plating zone.
None of you know why, no? Lemmie tell you! That fucking armour plating upgrade that was mostly given to soviet tanks. Yep, that's right. That.
I mean, that's fine, I can sort of deal with it, just gotta aim more carefully and hopefully hit them through the tracks. Hopeless as that is when they move so goddamn fast and its a realism server.
But here's where it gets real bad. Remember that camo I mentioned? Unlike the armour plating, you can't unlock it. Not even through some "kill 1000 enemy players" challenge crap. It costs 2000 of the ingame currency you get by purchasing with real money. 2000 of that currency costs roughly £10, give or take. Which is about $15. Yeah, its some paid for bullshit. Now, the issue with it is it can be really bloody effective. On realism servers no outline or markers appear over enemy tanks.
So, people who play with small tank hunters that can best most tanks are well... near unbeatable. Stick a few twigs and shit on a Hetzer and set up like 2 kilometers from the objective zones and you're 100% sorted. They will have a really hard time spotting you. By the time they do spot you, you'll have shot a shell right through their hull and detonated their shell rack. The picture below is my Hetzer, and the camera is only like 5 meters, at most, from the tank. Imagine trying to see that at 2000 meters. Actually, don't try because its not even possible unless you've modded the textures of the camouflage to make it transparent.
As a result of this, I feel like a total asshole.
Moral of the story: pretty much every Free to Play game is actually Free to Pay, and lacks balance. I have today lost yet another hobby to the abyss of poverty.
Due to this frugal lifestyle I have been forced to be a bit of a cheapskate when its comes to, well... everything.
So, when I see a free to play game on Steam with really damn good reviews I jump up and down. Literally. In my chair. Might explain the noise complaints.
So, y'know, when I saw War Thunder on steam I believe my exact thoughts were along the lines of "emahgerd tank game! its free to play! no pay to win bullshit! nerdgasm!". And yeah, I've had a ton of fucking fun with it.
Now, I play quite a variety of games. I've played enough of the first person genre to know it isn't my strong suit. Like, I severely suck at them. As a result, when I play War Thunder I avoid heavy or medium tanks as that usually entails the team expecting you to be right in the mess getting one-shotted by things. Instead, I use tanks of the Tank Hunter/Tank Destroyer class, namely my favorites; the Jagdpanzer 38(t) Hetzer, and the Stug III/IV models, mainly due to their very small posture and formidable range.
Now, recently, you may or may not know Gaijin, the developers of War Thunder, released an update that adds cosmetic camouflage items such as branches and leaves, and extra armour plating.
The armour plating was released for particular tanks. And, surprise surprise, MOST OF THOSE FUCKING TANKS WERE T34 MODELS.
I play realism mode and simulator battles, so I find myself fighting T34s about as often as I piss.
German tanks get access to a specific type of shell, called PZGR40. The idea behind it is it is a composite armour-piercing shells made the counter the heavy soviet tanks developed in the late war, such as the T34s.
With that said, CAN ANYONE EXPLAIN WHY THE PZGR40 SHELLS BOUNCE OFF THE FUCKING T34s AT EVERY ANGLE. Like, I swear to god, it can't even go through the bloody rear armour.
And so, before I know it, my cute little Hetzer is one-shotted by a T34 with an 85mm main gun, going right through its best armour plating zone.
None of you know why, no? Lemmie tell you! That fucking armour plating upgrade that was mostly given to soviet tanks. Yep, that's right. That.
I mean, that's fine, I can sort of deal with it, just gotta aim more carefully and hopefully hit them through the tracks. Hopeless as that is when they move so goddamn fast and its a realism server.
But here's where it gets real bad. Remember that camo I mentioned? Unlike the armour plating, you can't unlock it. Not even through some "kill 1000 enemy players" challenge crap. It costs 2000 of the ingame currency you get by purchasing with real money. 2000 of that currency costs roughly £10, give or take. Which is about $15. Yeah, its some paid for bullshit. Now, the issue with it is it can be really bloody effective. On realism servers no outline or markers appear over enemy tanks.
So, people who play with small tank hunters that can best most tanks are well... near unbeatable. Stick a few twigs and shit on a Hetzer and set up like 2 kilometers from the objective zones and you're 100% sorted. They will have a really hard time spotting you. By the time they do spot you, you'll have shot a shell right through their hull and detonated their shell rack. The picture below is my Hetzer, and the camera is only like 5 meters, at most, from the tank. Imagine trying to see that at 2000 meters. Actually, don't try because its not even possible unless you've modded the textures of the camouflage to make it transparent.
As a result of this, I feel like a total asshole.
Moral of the story: pretty much every Free to Play game is actually Free to Pay, and lacks balance. I have today lost yet another hobby to the abyss of poverty.
Tuesday, 14 July 2015
Trash Tuesday
It was a beautiful day in south-east Scotland. The birds were attempting to tweet despite having litter stuck in their throats, the sun was shining.... behind the permanent layer of clouds, and Shiina was enjoying sleeping in a bit later than usual.
But THEN---! A wild garbage truck appeared!
I can normally sleep through the low-tone noise of motors and cluttering. Doesn't bother me. That or I wake up for a few seconds.
However... today's garbage truck was REALLY goddamn loud. It made the kind of noise you'd think a rusty old bike would make as you dragged it out of a shit-coloured river. It made the kind of noise you'd think dragging chalk down a board would make. It made the kind of noise you'd think the driver of the fucking truck would make as you crushed him with the fucking mechanical lifting arm on the back.
This... utter bullshit... hit me at like 8.30am. I'm just silently dreaming about eating cherry cake, smiling creepily, then this giant fucking grinding noise comes in through the window, turning my silence into a roar of great pain and anger.
Annnd now I can't get back to sleep.
Fuck you, reality.
But THEN---! A wild garbage truck appeared!
I can normally sleep through the low-tone noise of motors and cluttering. Doesn't bother me. That or I wake up for a few seconds.
However... today's garbage truck was REALLY goddamn loud. It made the kind of noise you'd think a rusty old bike would make as you dragged it out of a shit-coloured river. It made the kind of noise you'd think dragging chalk down a board would make. It made the kind of noise you'd think the driver of the fucking truck would make as you crushed him with the fucking mechanical lifting arm on the back.
This... utter bullshit... hit me at like 8.30am. I'm just silently dreaming about eating cherry cake, smiling creepily, then this giant fucking grinding noise comes in through the window, turning my silence into a roar of great pain and anger.
Annnd now I can't get back to sleep.
Fuck you, reality.
Saturday, 4 July 2015
Birds are Scary
Roughly two weeks ago I was half way across the country attending an interview for college. Aside from the shockingly bad train times to go to and from the interview, I also found myself in possibly the most grey town in the UK.
So, with a six hour wait until my train home, I found myself wandering around the town doing next to nothing, until finally I found myself sitting in the train station roughly two hours before my train was scheduled to arrive.
Two hours of sitting alone in an empty train station, staring at the grey walls, sitting on the grey bench. I foresaw myself spending the whole time counting the stains on the wall.
But then...! A bird came in through the half-shattered overhead window. I typically ignore birds, not much to look at and I find nature about as dull as watching paint dry, so I paid it no mind. It quickly wandered off down the station, out of sight.
An hour passed, and this time a seagull came in, scratched about for a few moments, then flew off down the station when a train came by.
Half an hour later some football casuals wandered in and sat nearby, so I instinctively moved further down the station, to the only other bench on the side of the tracks.
Now, I shit you not, but the remaining half hour was the most horrifying time of my life. Behind a pretty wide pillar, just in front of the seat, I saw the seagull from earlier scratching about and pecking at something. I averted my eyes for a moment, thinking it was just picking about at some old food wrapper, but quickly found myself looking back at it like "wait, what the fuck?"
I saw cannibalism. I saw pure horror. I saw a seagull eating a fucking bird whilst it's still half alive.
To describe it without being too graphical; The seagull would grasp the bird with it's beak. The bird would writhe about in pain for a few seconds before the seagull lost it's grip due to the bird resisting. This continued for at least 15 minutes, when the bird at last was unable to move enough to shake the seagull off. It was still alive though... twitching every so often, writhing about slightly. And the seagull just sort of... dug in. Ripping bits off it, dragging it about a bit, ripping more off. This went on for 10 minutes, until the seagull flew off, leaving its half-dead victim to a slow and painful death as the local insects scrambled for the remainder.
Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't sitting on the end of my seat like "OMG this is awesome, I'm soooo edgy." To be frank, I was horrified. But... but... it was one of those things... one of those things you know is creepy or disgusting, but you just can't keep yourself from looking at it. Perhaps it was out of fear, or maybe it was some sick, inborn desire to watch something die. Who knows. All I know is I watched this, "against my will," and I now have it burned into my head in pristine quality.
So yeah, another one for that "repressed memories" section of my head. That place is getting pretty big these days...
So, with a six hour wait until my train home, I found myself wandering around the town doing next to nothing, until finally I found myself sitting in the train station roughly two hours before my train was scheduled to arrive.
Two hours of sitting alone in an empty train station, staring at the grey walls, sitting on the grey bench. I foresaw myself spending the whole time counting the stains on the wall.
But then...! A bird came in through the half-shattered overhead window. I typically ignore birds, not much to look at and I find nature about as dull as watching paint dry, so I paid it no mind. It quickly wandered off down the station, out of sight.
An hour passed, and this time a seagull came in, scratched about for a few moments, then flew off down the station when a train came by.
Half an hour later some football casuals wandered in and sat nearby, so I instinctively moved further down the station, to the only other bench on the side of the tracks.
Now, I shit you not, but the remaining half hour was the most horrifying time of my life. Behind a pretty wide pillar, just in front of the seat, I saw the seagull from earlier scratching about and pecking at something. I averted my eyes for a moment, thinking it was just picking about at some old food wrapper, but quickly found myself looking back at it like "wait, what the fuck?"
I saw cannibalism. I saw pure horror. I saw a seagull eating a fucking bird whilst it's still half alive.
To describe it without being too graphical; The seagull would grasp the bird with it's beak. The bird would writhe about in pain for a few seconds before the seagull lost it's grip due to the bird resisting. This continued for at least 15 minutes, when the bird at last was unable to move enough to shake the seagull off. It was still alive though... twitching every so often, writhing about slightly. And the seagull just sort of... dug in. Ripping bits off it, dragging it about a bit, ripping more off. This went on for 10 minutes, until the seagull flew off, leaving its half-dead victim to a slow and painful death as the local insects scrambled for the remainder.
Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't sitting on the end of my seat like "OMG this is awesome, I'm soooo edgy." To be frank, I was horrified. But... but... it was one of those things... one of those things you know is creepy or disgusting, but you just can't keep yourself from looking at it. Perhaps it was out of fear, or maybe it was some sick, inborn desire to watch something die. Who knows. All I know is I watched this, "against my will," and I now have it burned into my head in pristine quality.
So yeah, another one for that "repressed memories" section of my head. That place is getting pretty big these days...
Wednesday, 28 January 2015
I Give Up
So,
Over the months since I last posted here, I have been trying to.... reintegrate.. with society and what people call "normal." Naturally, I had anticipated problems before I started, me being me and all. Even more so as this, as with every other important decision I've made in my life to date, was decided without me even thinking it through, just doing.
But, as of today, I give up. I found that the only way for me to "become normal" was to put on a thick facade and convince myself the facade is the real me. Naturally, the facade contrasted my actual silent and emotionless self, to the point that thinking about it makes me cringe.
In my 6 months, roughly, as a social sheep, I experienced everything from being "stood up" by friends to being left out by close friends, even as far as mocked by friends (thanks to the facade, I guess). I mean, I already knew such things were traits of this bullshit, but I sort of forgot that in the process.... too busy trying to accommodate what others expected of me.
Being as disconnected as I am, it took me months to become aware that I was becoming like the very people I used to look at and think "fuckin' fruitcake, why can't you see you're just a doormat."
The only thing on my mind now? "Fuck That." I'd rather go back to silently floating into the room and nobody taking notice than having people look at me with contempt when I enter. So, with that, back to being a social recluse! Good fucking riddance.
Over the months since I last posted here, I have been trying to.... reintegrate.. with society and what people call "normal." Naturally, I had anticipated problems before I started, me being me and all. Even more so as this, as with every other important decision I've made in my life to date, was decided without me even thinking it through, just doing.
But, as of today, I give up. I found that the only way for me to "become normal" was to put on a thick facade and convince myself the facade is the real me. Naturally, the facade contrasted my actual silent and emotionless self, to the point that thinking about it makes me cringe.
In my 6 months, roughly, as a social sheep, I experienced everything from being "stood up" by friends to being left out by close friends, even as far as mocked by friends (thanks to the facade, I guess). I mean, I already knew such things were traits of this bullshit, but I sort of forgot that in the process.... too busy trying to accommodate what others expected of me.
Being as disconnected as I am, it took me months to become aware that I was becoming like the very people I used to look at and think "fuckin' fruitcake, why can't you see you're just a doormat."
The only thing on my mind now? "Fuck That." I'd rather go back to silently floating into the room and nobody taking notice than having people look at me with contempt when I enter. So, with that, back to being a social recluse! Good fucking riddance.
Saturday, 3 May 2014
Alarm Clock
Alright, I'll admit this one was something I decided on in the heat of the moment, and I haven't a goddamn idea why.
Here goes anyway.
Alarm clocks. Those pieces of metaphorical shit that make overwhelming amounts of noise and shit all over your dreams.
I have one myself, although it barely works due to frequently getting fly-kicked across the room.
My alarm clock is special. It's like any other alarm clock but has a mechanical bird on top of it. And as a plus, it makes really fucking weird noises when the alarm sounds... think it's supposed to be a bird chirping, but it sounds more like a squirrel in
labor being blended from the feet up in a smoothie machine.
So, like, I've got this thing sitting beside my bed.... like 50cm from where my head is, okay? So, at 7am every day, I receive a
"fuck you" from the almighty, in the form of a really fucking loud demented-sounding noise and some rotor noises in the background as it pitiably attempts to move around. Wanna know what really tops it off? The fucking button to turn it off is located at the impossible-to-reach back of the thing, and is a REAL bitch to switch. It takes roughly 15 seconds full effort to flip it, and by that point you've picked it up and launched it across the room.
So, the conclusion: I fucking hate alarm clocks, and they put me in a bad mood all day long. Well.. it's not like I'm ever in a good mood anyway, but you get my point.
Here goes anyway.
Alarm clocks. Those pieces of metaphorical shit that make overwhelming amounts of noise and shit all over your dreams.
I have one myself, although it barely works due to frequently getting fly-kicked across the room.
My alarm clock is special. It's like any other alarm clock but has a mechanical bird on top of it. And as a plus, it makes really fucking weird noises when the alarm sounds... think it's supposed to be a bird chirping, but it sounds more like a squirrel in
labor being blended from the feet up in a smoothie machine.
So, like, I've got this thing sitting beside my bed.... like 50cm from where my head is, okay? So, at 7am every day, I receive a
"fuck you" from the almighty, in the form of a really fucking loud demented-sounding noise and some rotor noises in the background as it pitiably attempts to move around. Wanna know what really tops it off? The fucking button to turn it off is located at the impossible-to-reach back of the thing, and is a REAL bitch to switch. It takes roughly 15 seconds full effort to flip it, and by that point you've picked it up and launched it across the room.
So, the conclusion: I fucking hate alarm clocks, and they put me in a bad mood all day long. Well.. it's not like I'm ever in a good mood anyway, but you get my point.
Wednesday, 2 April 2014
Public Transport
Public Transport. It is, put simply, a gigantic "fuck you" from Satan himself.
I get to and from work for 5 days a week by public transport. Every day, I spend 4 FUCKING HOURS total on some goddamn bus, crossing to the other side of a real shithole of a city. Ah, but don't get me wrong, I like sitting motionlessly for hours on end... after all, I do it all the time at home on the computer. Buuutttt.... lemmie tell you EXACTLY why public transport is a cancerous waste of both Government resources and money that comes pretty much from YOUR pocket... *takes huge breath*.
Lets start with the whole time schedule idea. Alright, good idea to tell people when the bus is gonna arrive, gotta admit... nothing worse than standing at a bus stop cluelessly waiting on a bus that might not even arrive. So, they've got a time schedule.... some shitty-ass monitor that tells you how long til this bus actually arrives.. fair 'nough, ya? But, oh hey, the drivers just take their fucking time, or drive like a delinquent who just got his license who's high on acid. The buses rarely arrive on time, they're either like 10 minutes late or 5 minutes early than their schedule. Oh, and the drivers KNOW they're not on schedule, oh yeah, it'd take a complete fucktard to employ someone who can't even pay attention to a monitor like 75 centimeters from their face that literally tells them when they've to arrive by.
I'll give you an example. Lets say you're meeting a friend or your next murder victim at a certain time. You sat planning the whole trip the night before to perfection, and made sure that even if you missed the first trip, you'd still make it.
So, you're standing there in some shabby bus shelter a drunk guy pissed in the night before, right? Rain is coming down in buckets, wind's blowing in under the pointless 1-inch gap between the bottom of the shelter and the ground. Bus pulls along, 5 minutes late albeit. By now you've got shivers and shit. You walk out towards the bay the bus is supposed to pull into and put your hand out to hail it, getting soaked and shit by rain. And then, guess what? The bus just fucking drives past. Yeah, that's right, it just fucking drives past. You look in the window as it passes and see that it's full. Fair enough, even though it'd be nice if he pulled over and told you.
So, you are soaked, freezing, slightly annoyed and potentially late. Never fear, another bus comes in 15 minutes. Enough time to go to a shop and grab some crisps or something, after all, it's only a 5 minute walk there, and 5 minutes back. So, you go along, get your shit, and go back. As you approach the bus stop, you see the back of a bus at the bottom of the road, about to turn off the street out of view. You think "ah, no worries, that isn't mine. Mine isn't for another 5 minutes."
You walk into the shelter and look at the fousty LCD display that says how long it is til the bus arrives. The bus you were aiming for isn't listed, there's one in like 20 minutes, but not the one you were waiting on. Congrats. The bus you were waiting on came 5 minutes early. Yup. And now you get to stand in the shelter, soaked to the bone, freezing, drowning in a sea of bloodlust and rage, and eat your crisps. Ah, but this time, not for only 15 minutes, but 20. Fucking. Minutes. Brilliant, eh? Fuckin' brilliant.
To continue my bitching on the topic of public transport, lets have a look at the motherfuckers who drive the bus, eh?
40 years old. Fat. Bald. Smells of cheese doritos. Snarls at you when you tell him where you're going. Drives really fucking slow. Talks to random-ass old crone grandmas as they get onboard. Wears a really fucking gay tie.
Fair enough they hire the most experienced drivers, but hiring people who greet their passengers like "Where YOU going?" and who intentionally fuck with the people waiting on the bus is over the top. I can't even imagine their interpersonal conversations in their staff rooms at lunch... probably something along the lines of:: "oh, I got this emo looking teen on my bus today. Complete arse couldn't even talk right." "Oh, her? Yeah, I've had her a few times too. Her confidence is about as low as my skills in dealing with the public." *group laughs in the way you'd imagine a group of middle aged overweight builders would laugh*
Aside from the service itself, lets look at another topic. The passengers.
I work in a hospital, right? Place is huge, has everything from a overpriced WHSmith to a Medical School department for the local university. I have to spend two hours in the morning, and after work, on a bus to get there. Now, because it's during standard work hours, you can imagine it'd be pretty busy, eh?
Yeah, that's fine and dandy, a busy bus isn't too big an issue. But when it's 19 year old, stuck-up brats who talk like they're royalty, and there are 8 of them sitting behind you at the back of the bus, it's hell on earth. Y'know those types... the kids who's "daddy will fire your daddy" and who say "oh my god" at the start of every goddamn sentence. 2 hours of that coming from right behind you, with some "Oh. My. God. My dad totally never gets me anything good. He got me a white iPad when I wanted a silver one!" and "oh, we're going on holiday to my family villa in Turkey this year" it makes you feel like tearing their intestines out and using them to hang them.
So yeah, four hours of listening to these kids who probably bought their way into Medical School, for five days a week... so that's like 20 hours of it.. when I got home today I headbutted the wall repeatedly until I could see red cubes floating about and stuff.
If it isn't the brats, it's the rats. Guy's dressed in chalk-white tracksuits, two of them, stink of cigarettes and shit. The kind you can hear "talking" from the complete other end of the bus. "Haw haw, I fucked your mum!" "Ye, and I fucked your sister." "Fuck you, I'll wreck you mate!" 2 hours of that is enough to drive you insane, no jest. Their conversations consist mostly of claiming to have.... integrated with each other's relatives and talking shit about the "friends" they push dope with.
There are many other things I could cover, but, well, I'll probably click the publish button on this and find out I've been disconnected from the internet, losing everything I typed... happens too goddamn often..
P.S. Actually did happen first time I tried to submit it. I no longer have a functioning iPod....
I get to and from work for 5 days a week by public transport. Every day, I spend 4 FUCKING HOURS total on some goddamn bus, crossing to the other side of a real shithole of a city. Ah, but don't get me wrong, I like sitting motionlessly for hours on end... after all, I do it all the time at home on the computer. Buuutttt.... lemmie tell you EXACTLY why public transport is a cancerous waste of both Government resources and money that comes pretty much from YOUR pocket... *takes huge breath*.
Lets start with the whole time schedule idea. Alright, good idea to tell people when the bus is gonna arrive, gotta admit... nothing worse than standing at a bus stop cluelessly waiting on a bus that might not even arrive. So, they've got a time schedule.... some shitty-ass monitor that tells you how long til this bus actually arrives.. fair 'nough, ya? But, oh hey, the drivers just take their fucking time, or drive like a delinquent who just got his license who's high on acid. The buses rarely arrive on time, they're either like 10 minutes late or 5 minutes early than their schedule. Oh, and the drivers KNOW they're not on schedule, oh yeah, it'd take a complete fucktard to employ someone who can't even pay attention to a monitor like 75 centimeters from their face that literally tells them when they've to arrive by.
I'll give you an example. Lets say you're meeting a friend or your next murder victim at a certain time. You sat planning the whole trip the night before to perfection, and made sure that even if you missed the first trip, you'd still make it.
So, you're standing there in some shabby bus shelter a drunk guy pissed in the night before, right? Rain is coming down in buckets, wind's blowing in under the pointless 1-inch gap between the bottom of the shelter and the ground. Bus pulls along, 5 minutes late albeit. By now you've got shivers and shit. You walk out towards the bay the bus is supposed to pull into and put your hand out to hail it, getting soaked and shit by rain. And then, guess what? The bus just fucking drives past. Yeah, that's right, it just fucking drives past. You look in the window as it passes and see that it's full. Fair enough, even though it'd be nice if he pulled over and told you.
So, you are soaked, freezing, slightly annoyed and potentially late. Never fear, another bus comes in 15 minutes. Enough time to go to a shop and grab some crisps or something, after all, it's only a 5 minute walk there, and 5 minutes back. So, you go along, get your shit, and go back. As you approach the bus stop, you see the back of a bus at the bottom of the road, about to turn off the street out of view. You think "ah, no worries, that isn't mine. Mine isn't for another 5 minutes."
You walk into the shelter and look at the fousty LCD display that says how long it is til the bus arrives. The bus you were aiming for isn't listed, there's one in like 20 minutes, but not the one you were waiting on. Congrats. The bus you were waiting on came 5 minutes early. Yup. And now you get to stand in the shelter, soaked to the bone, freezing, drowning in a sea of bloodlust and rage, and eat your crisps. Ah, but this time, not for only 15 minutes, but 20. Fucking. Minutes. Brilliant, eh? Fuckin' brilliant.
To continue my bitching on the topic of public transport, lets have a look at the motherfuckers who drive the bus, eh?
40 years old. Fat. Bald. Smells of cheese doritos. Snarls at you when you tell him where you're going. Drives really fucking slow. Talks to random-ass old crone grandmas as they get onboard. Wears a really fucking gay tie.
Fair enough they hire the most experienced drivers, but hiring people who greet their passengers like "Where YOU going?" and who intentionally fuck with the people waiting on the bus is over the top. I can't even imagine their interpersonal conversations in their staff rooms at lunch... probably something along the lines of:: "oh, I got this emo looking teen on my bus today. Complete arse couldn't even talk right." "Oh, her? Yeah, I've had her a few times too. Her confidence is about as low as my skills in dealing with the public." *group laughs in the way you'd imagine a group of middle aged overweight builders would laugh*
Aside from the service itself, lets look at another topic. The passengers.
I work in a hospital, right? Place is huge, has everything from a overpriced WHSmith to a Medical School department for the local university. I have to spend two hours in the morning, and after work, on a bus to get there. Now, because it's during standard work hours, you can imagine it'd be pretty busy, eh?
Yeah, that's fine and dandy, a busy bus isn't too big an issue. But when it's 19 year old, stuck-up brats who talk like they're royalty, and there are 8 of them sitting behind you at the back of the bus, it's hell on earth. Y'know those types... the kids who's "daddy will fire your daddy" and who say "oh my god" at the start of every goddamn sentence. 2 hours of that coming from right behind you, with some "Oh. My. God. My dad totally never gets me anything good. He got me a white iPad when I wanted a silver one!" and "oh, we're going on holiday to my family villa in Turkey this year" it makes you feel like tearing their intestines out and using them to hang them.
So yeah, four hours of listening to these kids who probably bought their way into Medical School, for five days a week... so that's like 20 hours of it.. when I got home today I headbutted the wall repeatedly until I could see red cubes floating about and stuff.
If it isn't the brats, it's the rats. Guy's dressed in chalk-white tracksuits, two of them, stink of cigarettes and shit. The kind you can hear "talking" from the complete other end of the bus. "Haw haw, I fucked your mum!" "Ye, and I fucked your sister." "Fuck you, I'll wreck you mate!" 2 hours of that is enough to drive you insane, no jest. Their conversations consist mostly of claiming to have.... integrated with each other's relatives and talking shit about the "friends" they push dope with.
There are many other things I could cover, but, well, I'll probably click the publish button on this and find out I've been disconnected from the internet, losing everything I typed... happens too goddamn often..
P.S. Actually did happen first time I tried to submit it. I no longer have a functioning iPod....
Friday, 28 February 2014
Violent Video Games
"Games like that are why murderers exist!"
Alright, alright... what the actual fuck? This, among other things, is the stupidest concept I've ever heard, and I spent 6 years of my life hanging about with some dimwitted boys from my local neighborhood, who spent all their time dreaming of taking over towns, assassinating world leaders and creating conspiracies without any proper knowledge of society and politics.
The games they target with that phrase, and other far-thrown... accusations I guess, are games such as Grand Theft Auto, Saints Row and any other game which features any sort of killing (aka every goddamn console game pretty much). So, in short, those who utilize that phrase are saying video games in a whole are the reason murderers and serial killers exist.
Here's a little bit of history for you. The Dark Ages... guess you could call it an era... it was about 1000AD. Back then, war was everyday talk. Wars were everywhere, non-stop. If one ended, another started. Hell, bandits and any other human trash that lingered after dark would rape, kill and loot any motherfucker they could, either for fun or for a living. Were there any video games? Was your average farmer, or high-class noble playing, what, "Caveman Rampage" or something? Nup, a fucking arched roof was as high-tech as it got, nevermind a computer game.
And when the 1500's came around, when they had cannons, ships, arched roofs, guns of some sort and that Leonardo Da Vinci guy kicking, there was still war, murder, raping, looting, pillaging... and yet, no videogames. None, I don't even think they had chess by that point, nevermind your typical first-person shooter, or even Space Invaders.
And now, when humanity has pretty much got it's shit together. When we've even got an international aid and peace organisation, the United Nations, which clearly dictates in it's name that it's all for peace and the alike... people are accusing videogames as the cause of psychopaths, murderers, rapist, and whatever else... well excuussseee meeee. Death rates are down drastically, there is nowhere near as many wars as there was. Whole villages aren't getting burned to the ground, people aren't going to battle with their neighboring villages over a bloody pig..... and yet, people blame videogames with violence for the, albeit still existing, murders and the related.
And if what they say is true, violent videogames brew violence in life, then does that mean playing Farmville makes me a farmer? Or Surgeon Simulator makes me a doctor (albeit a really bad one who uses a hammer to remove ribs)? Or playing Tropico makes me the president of some island off the coast of central America? I should think not.
To put it simply, parents don't want kids playing violent videogames so they spend more time in the boring presence of said parents, giving them more control over their kids.
That's the end of my rant. ^.^
Alright, alright... what the actual fuck? This, among other things, is the stupidest concept I've ever heard, and I spent 6 years of my life hanging about with some dimwitted boys from my local neighborhood, who spent all their time dreaming of taking over towns, assassinating world leaders and creating conspiracies without any proper knowledge of society and politics.
The games they target with that phrase, and other far-thrown... accusations I guess, are games such as Grand Theft Auto, Saints Row and any other game which features any sort of killing (aka every goddamn console game pretty much). So, in short, those who utilize that phrase are saying video games in a whole are the reason murderers and serial killers exist.
Here's a little bit of history for you. The Dark Ages... guess you could call it an era... it was about 1000AD. Back then, war was everyday talk. Wars were everywhere, non-stop. If one ended, another started. Hell, bandits and any other human trash that lingered after dark would rape, kill and loot any motherfucker they could, either for fun or for a living. Were there any video games? Was your average farmer, or high-class noble playing, what, "Caveman Rampage" or something? Nup, a fucking arched roof was as high-tech as it got, nevermind a computer game.
And when the 1500's came around, when they had cannons, ships, arched roofs, guns of some sort and that Leonardo Da Vinci guy kicking, there was still war, murder, raping, looting, pillaging... and yet, no videogames. None, I don't even think they had chess by that point, nevermind your typical first-person shooter, or even Space Invaders.
And now, when humanity has pretty much got it's shit together. When we've even got an international aid and peace organisation, the United Nations, which clearly dictates in it's name that it's all for peace and the alike... people are accusing videogames as the cause of psychopaths, murderers, rapist, and whatever else... well excuussseee meeee. Death rates are down drastically, there is nowhere near as many wars as there was. Whole villages aren't getting burned to the ground, people aren't going to battle with their neighboring villages over a bloody pig..... and yet, people blame videogames with violence for the, albeit still existing, murders and the related.
And if what they say is true, violent videogames brew violence in life, then does that mean playing Farmville makes me a farmer? Or Surgeon Simulator makes me a doctor (albeit a really bad one who uses a hammer to remove ribs)? Or playing Tropico makes me the president of some island off the coast of central America? I should think not.
To put it simply, parents don't want kids playing violent videogames so they spend more time in the boring presence of said parents, giving them more control over their kids.
That's the end of my rant. ^.^
Thursday, 27 February 2014
Youth is a Lie
Growing up. Most of you reading would associate that phrase with future dreams, childhood and teenage life. And all of THOSE associations you make with "growing up" can be further associated to things like friendship, youth and any other things along those lines.
For me, however, the phrase "growing up" is one that sends chills up my spine and makes my skin crawl.
Youth is nothing but a lie created for those who want to blind themselves with false friendships, alcohol, partying/clubbing, all while looking down on those who don't participate in said activities. You could almost says it's like a sales pitch for a metaphorical train to the depths of hell, with a heavy price on return tickets.
Once a member of the flock of sheep who willingly strut towards a hell harder to escape than the friendzone, you almost instantly sign your name up for years of betrayal, manipulation, makeshift relationships, being used and becoming a doormat for others to attempt to reach the false happiness at the end of the tunnel.
You may argue at this point, stating that i'm deluded and have an ecstatically morphed view of the world. Although saying that would be partially true, it is also partially false. You too have a morphed view on the world, whether small or large, it too affects your opinion on matters, making me seem like more of a pitiable loner than I really am. This is, assuming, that opinion is coming from the point of view of someone who is living out, or has lived out, their youth in such a way.
If the previous paragraph is, in fact, what you think of this ramble, please ask yourself the following:
How many friends do you have?
How many of said friends do you fully trust?
Have you had a relationship/friendship that has lasted longer than 6 months?
If no, how long did it take for the receiver of the relationship to shift to someone else?
How many disputes have you had in the past 3 months?
Hopefully, by answering the previous questions, I've opened your eyes a little, revealing some of our disgustingly cruel reality to you.
Youth is nothing but a lie, forged by whorish leeches who require a flock, resources, to reach their own pinnacle. And because those who are lured in are nothing but resources, they are treated in that way.... used and discarded upon requirement, much like how you throw a bottle into a bin, or on the street if you're like that, upon finishing it's contents, and you don't look back.
My experience of youth, which is currently ongoing, is one that is, in itself, also a system created by parasitic abominations who only care about themselves. However, I will not go over the details here, it will be covered in a later date.... possibly under the title "I'm living in a conspiracy" if I don't forget by then...
I shall conclude my rant here for the sake of any reader who is either finding it utterly hilarious that someone with this opinion actually exists, or if said reader is cringing in boredom.
EDIT 24/05/2020 - I decided to read through these older posts for nostalgia's sake. This made me cringe. I think I wrote this after watching SNAFU, might explain the edge.
For me, however, the phrase "growing up" is one that sends chills up my spine and makes my skin crawl.
Youth is nothing but a lie created for those who want to blind themselves with false friendships, alcohol, partying/clubbing, all while looking down on those who don't participate in said activities. You could almost says it's like a sales pitch for a metaphorical train to the depths of hell, with a heavy price on return tickets.
Once a member of the flock of sheep who willingly strut towards a hell harder to escape than the friendzone, you almost instantly sign your name up for years of betrayal, manipulation, makeshift relationships, being used and becoming a doormat for others to attempt to reach the false happiness at the end of the tunnel.
You may argue at this point, stating that i'm deluded and have an ecstatically morphed view of the world. Although saying that would be partially true, it is also partially false. You too have a morphed view on the world, whether small or large, it too affects your opinion on matters, making me seem like more of a pitiable loner than I really am. This is, assuming, that opinion is coming from the point of view of someone who is living out, or has lived out, their youth in such a way.
If the previous paragraph is, in fact, what you think of this ramble, please ask yourself the following:
How many friends do you have?
How many of said friends do you fully trust?
Have you had a relationship/friendship that has lasted longer than 6 months?
If no, how long did it take for the receiver of the relationship to shift to someone else?
How many disputes have you had in the past 3 months?
Hopefully, by answering the previous questions, I've opened your eyes a little, revealing some of our disgustingly cruel reality to you.
Youth is nothing but a lie, forged by whorish leeches who require a flock, resources, to reach their own pinnacle. And because those who are lured in are nothing but resources, they are treated in that way.... used and discarded upon requirement, much like how you throw a bottle into a bin, or on the street if you're like that, upon finishing it's contents, and you don't look back.
My experience of youth, which is currently ongoing, is one that is, in itself, also a system created by parasitic abominations who only care about themselves. However, I will not go over the details here, it will be covered in a later date.... possibly under the title "I'm living in a conspiracy" if I don't forget by then...
I shall conclude my rant here for the sake of any reader who is either finding it utterly hilarious that someone with this opinion actually exists, or if said reader is cringing in boredom.
EDIT 24/05/2020 - I decided to read through these older posts for nostalgia's sake. This made me cringe. I think I wrote this after watching SNAFU, might explain the edge.
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