...doesn't mean i get to be Tony Stark. Or does it? Some other stuff I need to finish up too (see below post). Hurry up May 4th! (Also, details on the metal (bar) thing can be found in older blog posts, if you're so inclined. It's probably named something to the effect of TMD VS Heart Disease.)
I'm not sure why there's this vague sense of anger/disappointment I get emanating from the internet (besides the fact that it's, yanno, the internet). I understand that some things remain consistent no matter your choices, and to that, well, it's certainly different. But it's an ending and, well, I guess it ended the way it had/ought to. And now, a rant on why the ending made sense Control is a big theme of the third game. The Illusive Man trying to gain control, Reapers trying to ga
Currently Rocking Out To: Meant to Live, Switchfoot
Mood: Happy?
I'm writing this from the Kiosk on board the Logos II.
To think, two years ago I thought I'd never see this place again.
The Kiosk (a central room, crossroads, like a living room), along with the rest of the ship has changed.
For starters, the Kiosk is different. The couches are gone, and the arm chairs are in their place. I'm sitting in an armchair that I've sat in countless times. The notice board is all but empty, so ma
Practicing tossing a(n American) football around with Zarai a while ago I realized something, I can't throw one properly to save my life...
TMD stared down the rows of armed executionors. Here he was destined to be executed for reasons that he himself did not know. He had been told that his sole bid for freedom would be based on his failure. The minutes tick by. A sole bead of pespiration slips slowly down his neck. On the far side of the chamber a door slides open - slowly TMD notes. Out wal
