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About Bonkle

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    Nuva Team Assembled
  • Birthday May 24

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    Lots of things I never am able to fully enjoy.

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  1. 1/5, never seen you before but the username and profile pic give an air of familiarity from days long past
  2. Bonkle


    That's a fair point, but to me, the appeal of the Bionicle story is how well put together it was despite being centered around toys. It never gets so good that you forget it's all to sell toys (except maybe towards the end with some of the serials, but then those aren't the best in terms of storyline always...) It's impressive what the writers did to make it feel real even though it does get a little thin at times. (Collect all the Krana because... it uh... stops the Bohrok. It just does. We totally don't want your money...) So for franchises like this, half the enjoyment I get from the story is being able to have physical representations of the characters, because again the story never gets so deep that it's totally self-sufficient. I can enjoy the exploits of the Toa while also knowing to some degree everything they do is driven by a need to sell toys, so if that's the case might as well have some of those toys. I cannot see a fiction-only Bionicle working that isn't incredibly edgy and self-important or one that doesn't completely lose all the charm that made the original so awesome. Similarly, very, very few of the sets would interest me at all without knowing the stories behind the characters. Brutaka may look cool but what really drives me to that set is his interesting character. This is a franchise that's co-dependent on toys and stories and I cannot see myself getting interested with just one or the other involved.
  3. Bonkle


    Gotta say, I LOVE G1's story but I can't make myself care if there are no sets involved.
  4. Taria Pakari... it means no worries for the rest of your days
  5. Bonkle writes a chapter after reading Faulkner; the formatting errors strike back
  6. VII. “Why do you hate Corvec Ma?” He stands before me across the void arms impatiently folded across his chest and there is silence for what feels like a very long time “I only ask because it’s something we have in common.” I strain and pull and feel like something is going to snap somewhere I’m not sure where and then I learn how to speak “I don’t.” “Oh come on, Halak. Don’t insult me by lying. Memories alone might not tell the story, but I know emotion. Passion. I’m a Toa of Fire. It’s written all over you: You’re physically aggressive, you belittle him every chance you get. You torture him with your feigned ignorance.” The void between us narrows and he seems to loom over me and he smiles a smile like the one Corvec did in Rar-Kor that infuriated me so much and he says “You hate him.” “What if I do?” “Then we might have just become the best of friends.” I am silent he sighs but does not look irritated “Do you have a dream, Halak?” “You’ve been digging around my head like there’s a prize at the bottom, right? Shouldn’t you know?” He chuckles “No. You see, that right there is why I don’t know. I can see your memories in your head, but while I’m here I have no idea of what you’re feeling. Each scene remains as insignificant as the last. For a Matoran, your mind has a remarkable spirit and resistance.” “Thanks. I’ll remember that next time I’m in this sort of situation.” A pause “Do you have a dream, Halak?” “Do you?” “I do. One I will share in exchange for yours.” Before anything the cold black empty is gone and we are in the desert Arhet still standing in front of me watching me intently arms still crossed The Matoran around us pay no mind Rar-Kor goes on like it should like it always does here “Why did you bring me here?” “I didn’t do anything,” he says “You took us here.” This is not what Rar-Kor looks like now This is Rar-Kor before the fall right before I can already hear the slinking and chittering of their segmented hideous deformed black bodies I don’t know if it’s in my head in my head or in my memory in my head I close my eyes but I can still see everything every detail I know exactly how it goes and then the screams start in my head and then they start again I fall on my knees my head is pounding I feel the sand and it feels real I hear something break and then we are back in the void and something is rumbling ringing off the wall Arhet is silent but he moves closer and then sits next to me A red dawn on a ruined tower Halak What I know you’re getting tired of hearing me say this I know Davik I don’t have to do this But you want to But I need to There are others What gives me the right to walk away Then a day in the sun empty white clouds above So what is it you want to do Halak What do you mean For the future We can’t all become carvers I don’t know You do Fine I guess I wouldn’t mind chronicling Really Yes I’d like to visit Jen’lan and learn from them and then go everywhere I can maybe someday I’ll be the first to get to the other side of the canyons Very interesting for someone who just said she doesn’t know Shut up you won’t be making fun when I come back from Qital or somewhere and you’re still playing with rocks Screaming and the rattling of segmented bodies Where’s the Toa They were killed remember But where is the last one I don’t know Why won’t he help us now Halak It’s okay Ryban you’re going to be okay don’t Halak Don’t leave me okay everyone is going to make it out fine Halak please I’ll get you help friend don’t move Don’t take your eyes off the inner light you Rare predator bird knifes silently through the sky overhead violently red You don’t owe anyone anything Who would I be if I left now Davik No less than who you are now And who is that Void it’s ringing in my ears again but there’s nothing on my eyelids now Arhet turns and looks at me “That was your dream? Seemed more like a recurring nightmare to me. I meant a ‘dream’ as in an aspiration, a goal…” My eyes flare with hatred I stare him down and don’t stop “I was going to leave. I was going to be a writer. I dared to dream without being one of destiny’s children who can afford to, who are supposed to. Someone like you. I stepped out of line and when tragedy came looking for Matoran like it always does, because it seems that’s all we’re good for, it wasn’t just another day in the life for me. It was punishment. I tried to be something more, and so loss became something more than just a fact of life. I found something to hold on to, and after the Westings came what could I do but let it go?” “And this is why you hate Corvec Ma?” "He left me as less than a footnote, another face in the crowd in the background of someone else’s tale- and then he just disappeared.” My voice quakes and the walls rumble again “Why did he get to give up?” A long silence Arhet watches me closely but I can’t bear to look at him He’s thinking of what to say next “For a Matoran, you’re surprisingly bright, so I’m not going to insult your intelligence and say that you and I are not so different. But I must say, parts of your story sound remarkably similar to my own. As does your burning question. Why did he get to give up?” “In case it wasn’t clear earlier, I’m not really interested in hearing about your dreams.” My voice is sharp and harsh and biting I am in control again “Well that’s just too bad, then, because I’m the one who decides when we ship out of here. Anything else you want to show me in the meantime?” “I already told you, I’m not showing you anything.” “But you already have, my friend. I can say, ‘show me your memory of the desert’,” we’re in the sand “or your house,” we’re there “but I cannot string together a cogent narrative while we’re like this. That wonderful, if sloppy, presentation was all you.” I say nothing He stands “Come on, say something. I can tell you’re not a big fan of my work. But you have to admit, it felt good to tell, or show, someone all that, didn’t it?” I say nothing but I know he’s right this time “Okay. Captive audience, that’s fine. I will say, though, I truly did appreciate you sharing that with me, even if it was on some subconscious level. You’re about the closest thing I have to a friend, my friend,” and his voice is somber and I know deep down he is being honest right now “I apologize, was that strange of me? We’ve only just met. But I feel like I know you so well.” I strain against myself trying anything I can imagine to break out of this and wake up in the cave so I don’t have to hear him prattle on any longer I begin to miss Corvec’s stoic silence Nothing I get back on my feet “Hurry up and tell me your story, then.” He claps his hands together “Oh, I’ve been waiting for a chance like this. Corvec wasn’t particularly willing to listen.” “I thought you said the Matoran you’ve corrupted were listeners enough.” This time it’s him that meets my gaze and there is again a deep genuine sorrow in his eyes that baffles and frightens me “Do me a favor,” he says “Imagine, if you will, a pot of water.” I blink and then almost involuntarily before us in the void is a clay pot red and brown like the walls of the canyons it is simple no more than a hollow cylinder with a hole at one end the water line near the top “A little more simple than I was thinking myself, but it works.” I scoff and stare at it “This part I’ll do for you,” he says and the water rises until the pot overflows, spilling its contents down the sides He looks at me expectantly I throw my hands up in frustration “Okay, you win. I don’t understand your brilliant tale.” “I’m the water,” he says it like that should make sense to me and it just irritates me more “...Okay. Then what’s the pot?” “I am.” I kick it over and it shatters and the fragments disappear the breaking sound echoing “Rather, what you see before you is the pot. Inside I am the water.” “Just get to the point before I imagine a hammer to hit you with.” “Fair enough. I was simply trying to illustrate that every vessel has its limit.” “And?” “And I have found a way to reach mine. Or, I suppose I’ve been gifted with the knowledge.” “To what end?” “You mentioned destiny when explaining your distaste for life, Halak. I believe in destiny too, and that we all have one. Why are we here if not to fulfill some purpose laid out for us? The notion of providence is too compelling for me to believe the world is governed by blind chance.” “Am I supposed to clap? There’s only one person I know who doesn’t seem to believe in fate, and you just talked to him.” “Yes, that’s alright. But how would you define fate? You seemed to characterize it as vengeful, or spiteful.” “...I don’t know. It’s the driving force behind our lives. Sets us on a path we can’t break from.” “But it is simply a force acting on the universe? If I were to set the empty pot out in the rain, what is its fate?” “To fill, and eventually overflow. That’s your master plan? To stand out in the rain once you leave the desert?” “No! Because I think you’re wrong here. Without intelligent design, fate is just a fancy word for organized and highly predictable forms of chaos, and if so there’s no point in making a distinction anyways. True fate has an author.” He is pacing now, gesticulating wildly “So you’re saying that beyond any sort of deity that might affect our lives through action like any normal person can, just on a bigger scale, there is a being whose will is implicitly carried out through us.” “Yes! Why does someone set a pot out in the rain, or fill it with water at a river? They have a use in mind for it. We are all destiny’s vessels, set on a path that will fill us with knowledge and experience appropriate to fulfill whatever is required of us.” I let this settle for a moment “And what does this have to do with anything?” “Halak, what are you if not a sum of your memories and experiences? You would still be a Matoran named Halak, but that is nebulous and pedantic. A pot filled twice contains different water, with different flavor and trace elements however subtle or noticeable, each time. Your body is the inconsequential element with regard to who you are.” “Get to the point and get out of my head.” “To put it simply, I want out of here. Of this world. I am sick of the noise, the smell, especially the people. It’s nauseating, overpowers and dulls the senses. There is nothing here for me.” His face and tone darken in an instant “I intended to make myself useless to destiny. I will assimilate every single consciousness in this world into my own if that’s what it takes for this vessel to overflow. I will find the total sum of knowledge and experience in this world, and when I try to go beyond, there will be no choice but for me to spill over, out of this body and beyond this plane. I will pool on the ground fate treads. It will not pour me back in the river of being when it’s done with me.” Ears ringing again and I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time disgust not like the disdainful contempt I have for Corvec but utter revulsion that masks something deeper a primal fear that doesn’t understand how something like this could ever exist I try to shrug it off “Then that’s why all the Matoran acting strangely are mutilated in some way? A connection to your Westing grafts?” “Yes! Once again Halak you set yourself apart from the rest. I’m sorry to say I found no reason to be gentle in my operations. Small minds yield small thoughts and little experience, hardly goods worth handling with care. Beyond a certain threshold, I even stopped learning new things from them. But I have to be thorough! Wouldn’t want to miss something important!” He chuckles like we’re talking about the weather Walls rumbling now I am shaking too “Why only some of the Matoran, then? Why not take the whole city while you’re at it?” He gives me an incredulous and patronizing look “You think I have no plans to? I simply started with the ones who welcomed it, who had nothing left to live for in this broken place.” “And then?” “Do you think the sum of all experience is to be found only in this wasteland?” I follow up on my earlier promise He was so kind to make me aware I can just think things up There is a hammer in my hand before I know it I aim for his face But he grows and grows until he towers over me Again I see the sorrowful tinge in his features “Hate to say it, but that was stupid, my friend. You may know yourself better than I do, but I know my way around a head.” “What does any of this have to do with Corvec?!” I growl seeking an end to this torture He returns to his normal height “I hate him because I cannot understand him. Your hatred of him is personal, justified, but offers no answers. No Matoran’s mind has given me anything more about him than the basics that set me on his trail in the first place. I hate him because he is a zero sum that refuses to cancel. He is waterlogged with despair, saturated with cynicism and defeat inside and out. He persists when there is no reason to. I have plumbed the depths of his mind and found nothing. His experiences are nothing new to me. I need him because I must know why he is still here.” I think about the pain I saw in his eyes and what he said through Ratuk My head is throbbing and I’m shaking in a violent rage I muster all the venom I can and then in a tone that scares me I say “He’s you.” He falters for a half second and then I dreamed a dream I won’t pretend it was special but it was mine We wake up in the cave, recoiling from each other and gasping for air. Corvec’s mask clatters to the floor. Review Topic
  7. Bionicle is gone, Minions have arrived, pretty sure that's two of the three signals of the LEGO apocalypse.
  8. 1/5, metal really isn't my thing especially that kind of brooding stuff. I can respect it's apparently based on a true story though (although I believe the lyrics of that would break the site rules, lol...)
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