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Found 39 results

  1. Hello everyone! the first episode of my Insectoids series is ready, this one is more of a prologue to the main series as it doesn't feature the Insectoids vehicles yet, Episode 2 will be coming in the future. It is inspired by 1950s Sci-fi tropes, I hope you enjoy it please tell me what you think
  2. My lasted video made to celebrate Halloween: After the Alien invasion, one man traverses the city's underground in order to restore power, but the aliens are still on the hunt... A sequel to last year's Halloween special. Bonus Behind the scenes gimmick: I had to get this made in 3 days to get it ready, I lost track of time a lot! Please tell me all of your thoughts on the project
  3. It has a few miracles of cinema, and a few stinkers. It's amazing that such a franchise can encapsulate two extremes as it does. It also has some movies where people debate whether or not they're good and get all passionate about it, which to me means that you're basically in Star Wars territory as far as cultural significance goes. I think it says a lot about a franchise when a legitimately good sequel/prequel is released, and people start complaining about how it's the worst film ever because it doesn't live up to the original. Anyway, speaking of comparing originals and sequels, let's start the question with a simple question: Alien and Aliens are the most acclaimed in the series, with the claim for both being nearly universal, but if you had to choose one, which do you prefer? Which is nearer to your heart? I wrote about this in my blog. I also really liked Prometheus and Covenant, but it isn't fair comparing them to those two. The original two were perfect, considered some of the greatest movies of all time, whereas these two are really good (I think that they're better than most sci-fi and horror movies released today), and works of art in their own right, but they they aren't monumental culture-defining phenomenons. It's like trying to compare Jurassic Park to Jurassic World, or A New Hope to Rogue One. They're generally well-received sequels/prequels, but not too many people would actually say that they're better than the original. That's how I feel about Prometheus and Covenant, although personally think that the former comes awfully darn close to being as good as Alien. For various reasons, I like Prometheus a little more than its sequel, but I've heard plenty of people say that they much prefer this one. So, as a follow-up question to the Alien vs. Aliens debate, which of the two prequels do you prefer/ Prometheus vs Covenant? 24601
  4. This topic is somewhat inspired by the one about what G1 would have been like if the story never left the island of Mata-Nui. So in G1, the first three years, despite being about Biomechanical beings which, let's face it, almost every young 'un incessantly called robots, was more of a fantasy affair than sci-fi. You had a tropical village, primarily melee weapons based on medieval technology, a tribal society, mysticism and ancient artifacts. Yes yes, you can have all that in a sci-fi story as well. I'd like this topic not to debate the range and definition of the terms sci-fi and fantasy, so let's stick to the very basic definition of sci-fi = technology and futuristic stuff/ fantasy = mystical/old-tech stuff. Anyhow, G1 took a decidedly Sci-Fi turn in 2004 and never really ditched it until 2009 with the more... "primitive" Bara Magna setting. Metru-Nui introduced all kinds of cool technology in '04 and '05, the highly industrialized depiction of Voya Nui in '06 and freaking semi-auto ranged weaponry also is a bit more on the Sci-Fi side, '07 had high-tech submarines and do I need to even speak of '08? So seeing as there is a pretty good chance G2 isn't going away in 2017, let's, for the sake of discussion assume it sticks around for at least as long as G1. Now, so far G2 has opted for the more fantasy-oriented theme of the early years of G1. However, what if it stays here? What if G2 never makes the switch to sci-fi? Would you be interested in seeing a longer saga with a more low-tech fantasy atmosphere to it? We know there is an airship that Ekimu uses, but that can still err on the side fantasy with some stretch. Now, it would certainly make travel between the other islands easier. While we don't know how large the planet is, it is safe to assume that with that level of tech (let's assume the "elemental blasters" are like magic and stuff), traveling to another continent by boat would be a lengthy affair. Either way, I'd love to see G2 evolve into having a larger scale story spanning various islands that were mostly isolated up until then, and the contact between them leads to tension/war. In the meantime some over-reaching enemy is gathering which threatens all islands, and the goal of the Toa is to create a stable alliance between them to face the coming attack. We could see a diverse range of cultures and set designs, with a wide range of non-Okotoan species. Would you prefer if G2 took a similar sci-fi turn as G1, or do you like the low-tech tribal atmosphere of early G1 and current G2?
  5. Sybre

    Halo

    Didn't see any young Halo topics floating around, so I figured I'd get the ball rolling. Let's talk about Halo. I've played the Master Chief Collection, Halo: Reach, and Halo 5, and I gotta say, that was money well spent. Running around impressive environments and mowing down ugly aliens with deadly firearms is one of the best experiences I could ask for. By now, I'm on a Heroic run, so it's good to be doing canon stuff. What about you? Are you in it for the story or the heart-pounding action? Do you read the novels and/or comics or are you sticking to just the games? Or are you trying to achieve near-encyclopedic knowledge of the Halo canon? What's your favorite game in the series? My favorite's either Reach or 5. I probably had the most fun with Reach, even if I had a tough time transitioning to 4's framerate after playing it. As for 5... I forgot... I just remember really liking it. Before I leave you to discuss, I have to ask: how's Halo Wars? Any of you played it along with the FPSes? If so, can you tell me how it is? I'm considering getting it and playing it before Halo Wars 2 comes out. I know Wars is a real-time strategy, so it's different, and I'm fine with that.
  6. So yeah, discuss doctor who, the awesome british sci-fi/Time travel show. Also: i think it's hilarious that almost an entire season passed by in the time BZP was down XD . ~ELM~
  7. I learned how to knit three and a half years ago so I could make a Fourth Doctor Scarf from Doctor Who. I recently picked up the knitting needles again to make my own Jayne Hat from Firefly: How's it sit? Pretty cunning, don't you think? It's actually a tad smaller than I'd like, so I think I'll make a second, better one over the summer. -CF
  8. real BFG hours

    Peregrine

    { P E R E G R I N E } "Here. This place." shuffle shuffle Movement. Blood sloshing around in his head. Fuzzy. Immobile. luuuurch "Careful!" "Shh. Keep it down, you-" "Not another word out of either of you." Still moving. Swaying and bouncing slightly. Might be just in his head. thudthudthudthud Footsteps, maybe. Couldn't see; barely hear. "Check that he's out." Snoring. A pause. thudthudthud "He's pretty out of it." "Does he need another? "No." thudthudthud No more snoring. No more moving. ... ding Moving again. shuffle shuffle The sloshing's stopped. Can't tell if he's moving. ding Now he's definitely moving. thudthudthudthudthudthudthud "All the way to the end." thudthudthudthud beep "Karz, he's lucky. I'd kill to live here." "He won't be living here." thudthudthud "Okay, move him." clack-clack clack-clack Dim light fluttering through his eyelids. Air. Cool. Stale. Felt hands grabbing at him, lifting him. "...easy..." Depositing him someplace soft. "Check him." More hands grabbing at his head. Was that a face? "His eyes are fluttering." "He needs another dose, then." A grunt. shuffle shuffle Something sharp pricking at his neck. Everything getting... further away... "He's fading." "We're finished. Head out." thudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthud.... { - - - - - } what is this place where am I I can see trees over there some dirt beneath my feet is that a bridge ? I can walk I'll just walk over here to the bridge there's nothing around peek over the side there's something in the water there a body dead Toa bluish-green Kakama I look up there's someone over there by the trees wait no he's here some guy in red who are you "Find us" wait no who are you who are you who are you who are you who are you who are you who am I { - - - - - } I wake and take a few breaths. The air is cold. Stale. These sheets are nice. Bed is comfy. I stare at the ceiling. Light is filling the room. I sit up and take a look around. Directly across from the bed is a door nestled into the far wall, which is light grey. Far to the right of the door in the corner is what I think is a washroom. A single couch sits in the middle of the room, resting atop white-tiled floors, facing a window that makes up nearly the entire wall the bed is resting against. I can't remember my name and panic for a bit. I can't remember how I got here, or where here is, or anything, really. No wants or desires or goals or ambitions. My mind's just kinda blank. I'm confused and can't really think. Was that a dream? Where did it end or begin? Hard to tell. I get out of bed and walk over to the window. The light hurts my eyes and my head starts throbbing. I rub my temples and my eyes adjust. I can see a street far below, with tall buildings lining it and others branching off and outwards. Beings mill like ants among them. This isn't Metru Nui or Xia. I realize that I can remember places I've been. That's something, I guess. I think I remember the world I live in. Hard to tell what's real. I'm confused and can't really think. I turn around and walk over to the washroom. I turn the tap of the faucet and take my mask off. Water sputters into the sink and I splash my face. It's cold but it wakes me up. I put my mask back on and look up into the mirror. I see the dead Toa. { - - - - - } Review Topic
  9. Here's the link to my first ever Bionicle story: http://www.bzpower.com/board/topic/16583-a-house-divided/. Right now there's only a prologue, but Chapter 1 will be coming soon. Enjoy! Criticism is welcome!
  10. graywolf89

    A House Divided

    A House Divided By graywolf89 Prologue “Listen, we’ve got an update.” “What is it?” “We’re sending in another guy to help you out. ” “Well, that was sudden. I thought you were low on manpower?” “ She just came in from Piringa Nui. She’s got a clue about where the keybearer is. I’m sending you the coordinates where you’re to meet her.” “Wait, how does she know about the-………..Nevermind. I got the coordinates.” “Good. Good luck, and may Mata Nui protect the two of you.” ___________ The mechanical clomp of footsteps echoed throughout the city block, partly muffled by the thick veil of darkness. The tall mechanical being, inconspicuous in daytime, was a mere shadow in the night. Bits of rubble crunched under his feet, and the shrills of mating viloflies occasionally drifted in, filling the void. He checked his wrist com. Seeing that he was close to the coordinates, he slowed down to catch his breath. Out in the middle of the road, he felt exposed; naked. It's not like there's anyone around to see me, he thought. The neighborhood's long gone. Pale, milky light emanated from Illya, the largest of Spherus Magna's moons. Although it was nearly dawn, moonlight was all that lit his path, for power, among other amenities, had been cut off from these parts of the city. He sat on a concrete slab in the middle of the street. Dust flew up, before settling on his armor. Illuminated by the moon, the scenic view around him: More concrete slabs, jagged rebar exposed, fallen telephone poles, wrecked cars, scattered scraps of clothing; a child's play doll. Confident he was alone with his thoughts, he gave himself additional light with his power and examined the locked case he carried with him. Why did I sign up for this? Anybody else could’ve taken up the job…He turned the case over. Or maybe not. Everyone else was too busy at the time. He was not alone. Unbeknownst to him, two other beings, who were organic, observed him from atop a wrecked parking garage about a hundred meters away. These beings were Glatorians, members of the eponymous warrior caste that had protected the Agori of Spherus Magna for thousands of generations. Both bore the mark of the Arkaian Phoenix upon their armor. One observed the mechanical being through night-vision binoculars; the other through a sniper rifle. They were prone. “We should take him out, Taz. He’s isolated.” whispered the being with the binoculars. In reply, Taz held up his left hand. “Hold on, Ray. I wanna see what he’s up to.” “A single Toa is already dangerous enough. We have to kill him now.” Taz looked at him through the scope of his LMR-60 rifle, specifically designed to punch through Toa armor. Outlined in the hazy green of the night-sight, the Toa just sat there peacefully, almost motionless. Taz could tell his weapons still sheathed, and he appeared to be hunched over in a state of contemplation. Maybe he’s as tired of the fighting as I am, Taz thought. Maybe he just wants to go somewhere peaceful. “Taz, c’mon!” Ray snapped. “You gonna shoot him or not?” Taz sighed and bit his lip, and then waved a vilofly away from his face. Ray gently put a hand on Taz’s shoulder. “Let me do it then.” He grabbed the sniper rifle. “You were always the sentimental type, Taz.” ___________ The Toa jumped from rooftop to rooftop, each landing denoted by a soft clack. She was a silent shade, a quick phantom under the pre-dawn dark. She had to be careful where she landed, for some rooftops had been weakened by shelling. Others had completely collapsed. The Toa checked her wrist com. She was close to the coordinates.
  11. Sorry for confusion, I'll contact the staff soon. Oxidized Monk by The Mugbearer, on Flickr Lore: This granddaddy has seen a lot in it's long life. There are still living witnesses on Fostral who saw it triumph in the big race from Incubator. They mopped the floor with those four boneheaded quizzers Zeexen on their right-on dragsters, and copped guns from them worth wads of beebs. Fortune lives in this machine. Creator's comments: So this is mechos, a fantastic vehicle from an old game Vangers made by Russian studio K-D Lab. So much memories... It's now available on Steam! If you brave enough, go and get it! And good luck on the roads of the Lost Chain. Also, the render took me 30+ hours. Reference image: Click
  12. Sledgeshot by yigitkoroglu by The Mugbearer, on Flickr Sledgeshot is an all-terrain scouting vehicle with ability to transform it's front legs into sleds for better speed in snowy regions where this machine is used the most. The original design belongs to http://yigitkoroglu.deviantart.com/]yigitkoroglu from DeviantArt and I post this model with his permission and his logo built with bricks. You can find Sledgeshot's concept art here: http://yigitkoroglu.deviantart.com/art/Sledgeshot-404878544 Don't forget to pay him a visit and check out his works for if it wasn't him, I wasn't able to construct this model. He gave me a great deal of inspiration.
  13. This is my first bionicle fanfiction. I wrote it so I could read it to my six-year-old cousin when our families went to Cancun together. He loved, it, but I'm assuming that you are harder to please. Please post comments in the review topic. I know that the ending is horrible, but I rushed it so I could finish the story in time for my trip. When the series is over, I will combine all the "books" into one and edit them over. Anyway, this series takes place in an alternate universe where all types of Matoran could be both genders. Gundaru Nui is a futuristic city. I myself don't like the futuropolis setting (i made it like that by accident), but I kind of have to continue with it. I'll probably change it to a more Metru Nui-type setting, unless readers like it as it is. Happy reading! And don't forget to post a review in the review topic!
  14. This is the second book in my fanfiction series The Gundaru Nui Saga. It's still a work in progress, but I hope you all like what I've got so far. Remember to post in the review topic!
  15. REVIEW TOPIC: HERE The Epilogue Pt 1. Pretend. Pretend that the pain doesn’t exist. Close your eyes, and pretend that you aren’t trapped in this cell underground, with your tendons torn out and bones broken, making you the symbol of near extreme helplessness. Pretend that you’re not in this clean, polished, high tech world of pain, but that you’re sleeping on the beach were you met Sara. That the screams of your fellow inmates are actually the sounds of waves caressing the beach. Scream yourself as your mind is dragged unwillingly from the scene you created and forced to relive the events that got you into this mess. Scream.
  16. Project Girard Review Topic Project Girard is actually a comic I'm writing and illustrating, but as with another comic called Bad Vibes (which I'm still writing and gnashing my teeth over), I'm writing it in a prose format to sort out the details of the world and story more easily. I need the criticism and the discussion, since that is my ego-fuel. Description: The Story starts here.
  17. The Hardest Thing to Hold My thoughts on night number seven hundred twenty-four on the starship Perpetuator, bound for the Alpha-Centauri star system: I need a breath of fresh air. The time is a quarter past three A.M. according to my bedroom’s alarm clock. I can hear the top mattress of my bunk bed creak; that’s my younger brother Richard Klein, just past his thirty-ninth birthday, readjusting himself in his sleep. Sometimes I wish I could sleep as well as he can. We’re only five years apart, and yet he acts so much younger, so much more innocent than I do. Maybe that’s because he was always more enthralled by the Perpetua Project than I was (or was his excitement an effect of his youth?), always so into such noble endeavors as sending human beings to other planets. My opinion? Travel brochures never tell you everything. Advertisement is just another form of propaganda. I can’t turn on the lights without waking him up, so I roll inch by inch onto my side and sit up. My mattress groans a few times, but my brother’s gentle breathing persists, and as I leave my bed and cross the cold metal floor to the doorway, he rolls over again as if this night is just like any other. Granted, this is no unusual night for me, but I don’t like thinking about my midnight outings too much: I’ll start feeling sick in my stomach, and guilt will fuel my insomnia. Adrenaline fuels my insomnia, too, but it’s different. It doesn’t gnaw at your heart or your mind; it doesn’t latch like a leech onto your skin, burrowing deeper and deeper till it finds a nerve on which to feed. No, adrenaline only serves the purpose of heightening your senses to the point where every change of brightness, of noise, of touch is apparent as a crack in a mirror, and then it subsides. Sometimes it even pushes the guilt from my mind. A gentle hum vibrates the walls of passenger corridor 3A, Quadrant B, in the Perpetuator as I progress to its end. I make a right, open a door marked Authorized Personnel Only a crack, and slip into the narrow, dim crew stairwell. Whenever I nudge the door closed again, I wonder if any sound the door could possibly make is louder than my pounding heart. Now alone, I tap thrice on the railing — pause: One Mississippi, two Mississippi — and tap thrice again. “Whossere?” a voice hisses from the iron mesh platform above my head. “James,” I grunt in reply. “Can’t sleep, Allen. Got any, uh...?” “Yar. C’mon up.” I mistake my heartbeat for my footsteps several times as I ascend the metal stairs. By the time I reach the platform where a fifty-year-old gentleman with a salt-and-pepper beard waits, my head is spinning. I slump beside him and sit in silence for what feels like minutes. “Th’ tank’s half full,” Allen says. I nod without comprehending. A cool piece of plastic is pressed into my hands; I focus, and the whitish blur resolves into the shape of a respirator. “Just a breath,” he reminds me sternly. I take a breath — a nice, long, fresh breath. The hand holding the respirator slips from my mouth to my lap; I hold my breath for twenty seconds, ignoring my heart and lungs’ fervent protests for more, before exhaling slowly. I don’t think my head is spinning anymore; in fact, I would feel like I’m floating if not for the stale air of the Perpetuator’s atmosphere filling my lungs with what feels like lead in gaseous form. I manage a bittersweet smile. “S’good.” “No more. I risked my hide to nick it from the ship’s reserve tanks, so s’mine.” Allen is adamant. I sigh and say to assuage him, “I wasn’t asking f’ more.” “Oxygen’s hard t’ come by, y’know.” “Yar, I know that.” Allen takes his turn to sigh and takes a breath of his own. His eyes alight like embers as he inhales; they dim again when he releases the breath, adding more carbon dioxide to an air mix already low on vital gases. “Cheapskates.” “Mmhmm.” “What d’ they think, that being conservative with the oxygen’ll sustain a fully crewed starship with five hundred passengers?” I’ve heard this before — multiple times. Maybe Allen’s getting too high from the oxygen to remember what he said a couple nights ago, or maybe he just wants to talk. I nod to assuage him — rather, I try, but after my head inclines, it doesn’t go up again. For once, I feel tired. “Gotta go,” I say. “Say hi to Ulysses if y’see ‘im, ‘kay?” “Yar. ‘Night.” As I descend the stairwell again, I hear Allen mumbling something about illegal obtainment of materials necessary to human survival. Maybe he’s wondering what we’ll be charged with should we be caught stealing oxygen. * * * “Ladies and gentlemen of the Perpetuator—” The announcer’s tinny voice resounds through the spacious white cafeteria of Quadrant B. I shovel more of my hash browns into my mouth, hoping the tasty food will counteract the discomfort of the Perpetuator’s air, and covertly glance at my brother. Ritchie’s pale blue eyes are focused on the nearest ceiling speaker, his food lying forgotten by his fork, tapping an arrhythmic pattern on his plate’s rim. “It has come to our attention that the oxygen stored in our backup air tanks has decreased by a small amount.” My heart cartwheels. “We would like everyone to be aware that the oxygen in our backup tanks is needed in the event of emergency air loss—” “What moron’d steal oxygen?” laughs Ritchie and continues eating. “—and that we have instituted safety precautions to determine who is the culprit.” My heart pulls out of its flipping and cannonballs into my stomach. “Captain Irving has decided to pardon any guilty persons who confess to him. Otherwise, continued offenses will result in severe punishment.” The metal bench of our table feels colder. Now Ritchie is the voracious one while I pick at my scrambled eggs. My appetite is gone, but I still attempt to eat to keep Ritchie from noticing. I think he notices anyway but either doesn’t care or has justified my actions in his mind. At least someone can justify my actions. * * * My thoughts on night number seven hundred twenty-eight on the Perpetuator: Are we there yet? Tonight is the fourth night I will suffer without inhaling oxygen. I feel like I’m breathing water. The air smells like dust and metal: very unpalatable. I curl into a ball beneath my blankets and close my eyes. I never understood the tradition of counting sheep — what sheep am I supposed to count? — but I count to ten anyway. Then I count to one hundred. Maybe I can count to one thousand before I fall asleep... * * * Life, I have decided, is a drug. All the entertainment available on the Perpetuator — TV stations run by volunteers (whose amateurishness shows), books both physical and cyber, games, and the internet — has grown so familiar to me that I have taken to lying in my bed, a book I will probably never finish open on my chest, and pondering pseudo-philosophical questions. Life being a drug makes sense, though. When you’re denied what you need to survive, your pains and woes and persistent urges tell you to find them; when you have the essentials, you want more. I told Ritchie my theory around three o’clock; he wasn’t impressed. He must still not be, because every so often, he glances at me from one of our bedroom’s two computer terminals as if he thinks I’m sick. The next time he does so, I meet his gaze and stick out my tongue. It’s the most humor I’ve mustered since a few months ago. Maybe I am sick. Tonight, I plan to count to two thousand before falling asleep. * * * My thoughts on night number seven hundred thirty-one on the Perpetuator: What the devil am I doing!? It’s a valid question. I gave up counting at one thousand two hundred thirty-eight (or was it one thousand two hundred thirty-nine?) to sneak out of my bedroom. My insomnia is acting up; I could probably have counted to three thousand before I finally slept. Down corridor 3A, turning to the right, through a gap in the Authorized Personnel Only door, and into the dim lightning of the crew stairwell, I keep wondering why I gave up counting. I knock thrice on the crew stairwell’s railing, pause, and rap three times more. “Whossere?” “James.” “Ar, haven’t seen y’ up ‘ere in a while.” “Been” — busy? tired? scared? — “been sleeping better than usual. Till tonight, that is.” A pause. “C’mon up if y’want. I ain’t got any air, though.” “S’fine; just want some company.” I clamber up the stairwell, my heart echoing loudly in the narrow space, and sit on the iron mesh platform by Allen. His facial hair seems stragglier than usual. He glances in my direction and nods as I position myself by him, then returns his gaze to the general vicinity of his tank, lying unused by his side. My stomach churns at the sight of the tank. Now that I’m here, I have no idea why I bothered getting out of bed. Lying in bed and staring at the bottom of the top bunk is better than sitting on cold metal and staring at an empty air tank. I restart my mental counting. As I reach one hundred forty, Allen shifts uncomfortably. “I can’t live like this,” he mutters, and licks his lips. “Honestly? Sometimes I wonder if jettisonin’ m’self would be—” “Don’t! — that’s a coward’s way out.” “Not if I have to fight through guards t’ do it.” “Then it’s a moron’s way out.” “Well...” Allen considers. “Yar.” He vaguely waves his hand before him. “But this air. How can everyone else stand it? It ain’t many people who c’mup ‘ere.” “I know my brother hasn’t seemed t’ notice, but I dunno. Maybe everyone else jus’ hides it better.” “We oughta take some tips from ‘em.” Allen’s pseudo-grin is forlorn, but at least it’s a grin. I wish I could grin tonight. My count stops at three hundred five when Allen stands up, his bones creaking, and says, “I’m gonna sleep. ‘Night, James.” “’Night,” I respond, staring at my feet. I hear the clank of Allen lifting his empty tank, the click-clack of him opening the crew door on this floor, and the clack of the door snapping back into its frame behind him. Still I don’t look up. My heart is on fire, and I don’t think I can handle letting the outside world back into my focus before I douse it. I don’t need it. I need it. No, I don’t. Yes, I do. No — yes — no — yes— I look up, my chest filled with heat and my stomach roaring like an engine. I feel like I’m splitting in two, but it’s all right. I’ll be fine in a minute. * * * I remember where the oxygen reserve tank is because Allen told me where to find it twice before. I have no personal tank. I don’t care. I enter the door and feel the hairs on my neck stand up. My chest hurts from my heart’s fervent pounding. I know I’m being watched. I don’t care. I circle round the tank and grab an air pipe, unscrewing it just as I remembered Allen describing it: turn clockwise, stay steady, don’t be afraid if any oxygen leaks because that’s what’s supposed t’ happen... It comes off. I breath in. Welcome air enters my lungs; my knees wobble as a sudden bout of weakness floods my system, my heartbeat still reverberating within my skull. Footsteps. They’re approaching fast. My hands fall to waist level, bringing the air pipe with them. I can’t reattach the pipe. I can’t. My lungs feel like they’re free. I could fly. And I do fly as the lights blind me and a body slams into mine. What I don’t understand is why the floor has to stop my flight, or why my lungs suddenly feel like lead again. * * * There’s no trial — my crime is on high-definition video, so what is left a mystery? — but there is an official sentencing. My metal chair is cold; the handcuffs that bind my wrists behind my back are equally freezing. The stale air is doing its best to choke me. My veins throb like bass guitar strings. These details I focus on to distract myself from the guilt swelling behind my ribs. The justice of the peace, a rather overweight man with bags beneath his eyes and an office seat outfitted with plush black cushions and armrests, reads my charges. The words illegal obtainment of materials necessary to human survival make me smile. I wish Allen could hear. After the justice finishes, he informs me I will be locked in a cell for three hundred days. I cannot contact people, but they can contact me. My cell will have a bed, a small bathroom, and a desk. I will have three square meals a day. I will be permitted to bring no objects that could result in suicide. A psychiatrist will meet with me regularly starting a week after my imprisonment. I nod till my head feels like it will fall off my neck and then blink in understanding instead. “Very well. Before you leave, do you, ah, have anything t’ say for yourself?” The question catches me off guard; so does the justice’s tapping of a button on his console. “...What?” “Well...” The justice scratches his head. “Do you... uh, have some, some statement about your actions which — that you would like t’ be kept, um, on record?” The Perpetuator’s officials probably don’t care one way or the other. I nearly open my mouth to give an excuse but stop, my gaze descending to the feet of the justice’s carved wooden desk. “I hate myself,” I say finally, meeting the judge’s gray eyes with my clear blue ones, “but I can’t help needing oxygen t’ live.” I stop there; I can’t trust myself to say anything else sane. The justice waits a few seconds to ensure I’m done, then nods and presses the same button on his computer. “Very well.” He presses a different button. “Guards, you can escort Mr. Klein to his cell now.” The guards bring me into a crew elevator and press a button. The elevator shudders, and as its descent begins, so does my count. One. Two. Three. Four... The first thing I notice on our descent to the Perpetuator’s small jail is that I feel more tired than I have in weeks. The second thing I notice is that with each passing second, as the elevator drops, the air gets a little harder to breathe.
  18. I just found some leaked information on Bungie's Project Destiny game from Wired, which lead me to a nice video on IGN, and the information was confirmed by Bungie to be accurate as well. Here are the details.Plot (Paraphrased quote)It is 700 years into the future on the last city on Earth in a solar system littered with the remains of man's golden age. A massive alien ship hangs overhead like a second moon, no one knows where it came from or why it's here, only that it's "our protector". Meanwhile, another alien race comes from "the edges of the universe" to come and take earth and the last city. "We are young knights, tasked with defending the remains of humanity, discovering the source of these monsters, and eventually overcome it." The massive alien ship is referred to as "The Traveler".Bungie is making the game to be fun and accessible to all, "aiming to make the universe as deep, tangible, and relateable as that of the Star Wars franchise". Jason Jones (Bungie's Co-Founder) said: "Destiny is designed for your inner seven year old. We want to make it feel like a mythic adventure."GameplayDescribed as "social at it's core, offering a world to explore with friends both old and new." Though we are still not 100% certain if the game is an MMO (as statement Bungie later called "a joke").Release InformationAlong with a Destiny Logo, there were also Xbox 360 and PS3 Icons, there is also a url for "Destiny.com" which is currently password protected.Leaked Court documents talked about 4 installments in the Destiny series, with the released dates planned to be:Fall 2013201520172019In 2014, 2016, 2018, and 2020, DLC known now as "Comet" are said to be planned.The contract also said that the first game would be released on Xbox 360 and it's successor (the contract calls it the Xbox 720), releases on PS3, PS4, and PC are said to be planned in the years following.Concept Art.Destiny LogoThe Traveler and the CityThe New MonstersThe KnightsAn Derelict BuildingThe Traveler In OrbitAnother Shot Of The Traveler In OrbitMore Derelict BuildingsA Massive WallKnights In A Force-Field Or SortsAnother Knight Giving CommandsA Space FleetSome Knights Ambushing The New Monsters.Other Bungie NewsBungie's contract also mentioned that it is allowed to put 5% of their workforce towards another Marathon game, I certainly find that idea exciting as a fan of that series.
  19. ChocolateFrogs

    Waterworks

    And today the Whovians shall watch Doctor Who and experience heartbreak as we have never felt before. My girlfriend and I are aiming for a BBC livestream so we can watch at 2:30 instead of abandoning our friends at 9:00. Or waiting a few days. -CF
  20. Yeah, I was right there looking at it. Trying to figure out how it could, somehow, get to the highway and to my house... Back angles. It's currently on tour across the States. It'll be in Baltimore, Maryland, today, Memorial Day. But there will probably be a bigger crowd than today at the National Harbor because there's a sci-fi/fantasy convention concluding. B) -CF
  21. Xinlo

    The Lost Hobby

    Most people seem to have forgotten the once-popular time-wasting activity of plastic model kit construction. My dad used to build them constantly back in the day, and he passed on the hobby to me over the years. I'e been doing it since I was 5, but obviously not with good results. I mostly like to do various spacecraft (usually from Star Trek), but I've also got some planes and cars done/waiting to be started. Just felt like having an entry dedicated to it, and to put some of my work on here; it's one place I've never really thought to post models. NSEA Protector (Galaxy Quest) (Most Recent; still needs decals) Romulan Bird Of Prey (Star Trek: TOS) Scale Collection of all Enterprise ships (except NX-01) USS Kongo (Star Trek: TOS style) with really badly done ISS Exeter USS Enterprise B (Star Trek VII)(First one I did on my own) 1953 Chevy Coupe WIP: Saladin Class Kitbash (burnt for fun) USS Excelsior (with USS Enterprise D) USS Enterprise A (With TOS of the same scale made by my dad) I still have a Piper bush plane, a Spitfire, a Stealth fighter, and the Jupiter II from Lost In Space that I've not yet started aswell.
  22. Today was Free Comic Book Day! (Sorry for telling you so late, but maybe your local comic shop is still open and has some good stuff left.) I picked up a Serenity/Star Wars flip-cover comic and a preview of The Hypernaturals. And got an extra DC New 52 comic which preluded the Earth 2 #1 I picked up today (along with World's Finest). And I really want to keep reading those! Oh and an X-Men comic. I also stopped by TRU today. When I called they said they had the Series 7 figs. What I failed to comprehend is that they wouldn't have a nearly full box to sort through. So from about a dozen or so figs I picked out the dark knight, rocker chick and space marine. Which is what I wanted. But I also want at least another spacer, an Aztec, and a bagpiper (for a friend). But I live near a TRU at home, when I'll have a car. Good day, except for the terrible game of Risk. Oh well. -CF
  23. Anyone here watch Syfy's Eureka? The fifth and unfortunate final season started tonight and it was absolutely fantastic. This show has gotten better with each season, and the twists that came and the sci-fi tropes played off of in this episode were especially noteworthy. -CF
  24. Oh man. Awesome 11th, 11.5th, and 12th games of Risk Legacy tonight! I won game 11 (third win in the past two years of playing Risk) and STUFF WENT DOWN. So cool, amazing stuff. The game makers really knew what they were doing when designing the game. Twists and turns, etc. Seriously, if you have any interest in playing Risk with the same 3-4 people fifteen times, where each game builds on the last and allows for radical changes from out of the blue, where the game evolves over time, Risk Legacy is the way to go. Game 12 was also cool because we got to see the consequences of game 11, like causing everyone to have different strategies that put them out of the comfort zone they had built over the past 11 games. -CF
  25. I didn't get a chance to cancel pulling Uncanny X-Men, so I got issue 9 today. Whoops. Looks like I'll get #10 as well because I can't stand having incomplete story-arcs. But that is ok because I was interested in seeing the Avengers come and help out. I almost canceled Wolverine and the X-Men, but decided against it. It's a favorite and the best X-title out, so I want to show my support. Plus it would have meant no X-Men comics on my pull, and I'm a big fan. We'll see if I get entangled in the skerfuffle of AvX. On one hand, I'm staying out of it (because Marvel events blah blah blah), but at the same time I wouldn't want to have a gap in my X-Men comic collecting. But the outcome is easy to predict. But for W&tXM, might as well keep that. (And I'll pick up some Vs for fun.) Then again, I'm trying to wane off of comics because as soon as I graduate college in 7 weeks I shouldn't be spending superflourous money until I get an established income. I've been waning myself off slowly (also in part because I spend way too much on comics a month as it is). -CF
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