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Janus

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  1. Janus

    Epilogue

    By Janus,

    (12)
     
    This is just a concept I was toying with today, it's a bit interesting in my opinion but harder than I expected to develop.
     
    Word count: 495
     
    Enjoy!
     

     

    Epilogue 
    24 Hours after the world ended.
     
    Oh yes, I know just how strange it seems to see those words…imagine how it feels to be scrawling them on this page. Then again, I seem to be assuming this page will even be found—or perhaps I’m simply trying to keep myself sane by inventing a new persona with which to interact. Well hello there possibly-non-existent-person-reading-this, would you like to be my friend?
     
    You would? Smashing!
     
    To say that the world ended unexpectedly would be…untruthful, all those wonderful theories about the universe imploding, or the underworld vomiting forth legions of unholy warriors, or even the sun exploding…all of them were proven false. Unfortunately that means that with the world ended there aren’t even any downed alien spacecraft to take refuge in—or alien overlords to pack us up and ship us away. All that remains is the desolation of a brutal war.
     
    Oh yes, it was we that destroyed us—should that come as any surprise? How often have writers clamored about how our own hubris would destroy us all? Hmm, I can’t recall the exact number, but I do know that philosophers and others of note have put forth the claim that we were inevitably doomed to destroy all that we created—including ourselves.
     
    And so we have. It almost seems banal when you think about it.
     
    You might expect that I would feel some great sense of sorrow about all of this…I don’t know, after all we just met. However I am somewhat surprised to tell you that I do not, perhaps I’m simply not entirely sure that I’m the last human left alive...after all, doesn’t all good fiction have at least one small group of surviving humans? I half expect to wake up tomorrow and find either a group of mutants at the door, or have the entire ruin in which I am staying transformed into some sort of Mad Max’esque fortress.
     
    I feel I must also say that a post apocalyptic world is simply not as interesting as it is portrayed in fiction. In fact it’s quite disappointing. There’s no mutants thus far, no foliage, and nothing prowling about in the ruined city—not even some vaguely disfigured brain-addled humans. Instead there is nothing but the wind blowing its lament over our infinite foolishness. It blows through the canyons that were once shopping malls, through the decimated city, even atop the now-poisoned water.
     
    It really is sad in a way. Not just in that we were inevitably failures in our own destruction—after all, I survived…and others likely did as well. So not only is pathetic that with our last act as a species we were still cursed with failure. It’s also sad in that this is the end of the human race. Not some great and splendorous thing Not some monumental crash and epic destruction. No, instead it’s just an old man scrawling out our epilogue.
     
    Don’t you think it’s sad, my friend?
     
  2. Janus

    So.

    By Janus,

    So, this is a blog, eh?
     
    Heh, I've played around with such things before, but to have one on BZPower is rather unique. I honestly never expected to be utilizing such a feature on this site-- but then I realized how odd it would be for the Blog Leader (Or thought police commander, if I do say so m'self) to be minus a blog, and thus I created what you see before you.
     
    This will generally be a place where I post any oddities or interests I have. Any appropriate writing may be sneak-peeked here, and perhaps you'll even find out why I'm such a bitter, jaded, husk of a man.
     
    Except not.
     
    Thought Police Commander signing off,
     
    -Janus
  3. Janus

    Let's Guruguru~

    By Janus,

    Okay guys, so I've been dead, I've been really, really, really dead.
     
    Like, zombified even.
     
    But I'm back now, I'm unsure who cares, but I'm kindasortamaybeprobablynot back.
     
    And now that my preamble is out of the way, let's head into the main entry.
     

     

    GURUMIN: A MONSTROUS ADVENTURE 
    Now, no doubt somebody will accuse me of not using the proper title, as the subtitle of "A monstrous adventure" wasn't on the original PC version of Gurumin--but I don't care, I played the PSP version first, and I ADORE IT.
     
    So here's the basic story. You play as a young girl, a young adorable girl (with a good voice actor!), who is smart and sarcastic and funny. You go into the world of MONSTERS where everything, EVERYTHING is cute. I'm serious, I couldn't bring myself to attack my enemies at first because they're so friggin' adorable.
     
    Over time you discover more monsters, as well as fight the 'big four' villains. I'll take some time to describe them now.
     

    Puku: He has leaves on his head. LEAVES. ON HIS HEAD. He also has a good voice actor and I love him.
     

    Pino: She has a flower on her head. So last month. Also, annoying voice actor at times, still can't help but love her, though.
     

    Pierre: He's a french monster, okay? He's awesome, so very awesome. He's purple, and has a hat, and a dove underneath his hat, and he's so very awesome. <3 Gentlemonster <3
     

    Poco: Blueboy can't dance. At all. Fairly good Voice actor, but nothing to write home about.
     

    Motoro: Big cat monster who runs away so much, he's adorable as heck--and his deep voice just makes him hilarious.
     

    Rocko: He's got a bad case of erosion, it makes me laugh. His voice is fairly okay, and very funny at times.
     

    Chucky: He's the youngest, and wants to be a grown up. He usually fails in his regard, he's adorable, though.
     

    Doug & Digby: The mole brothers. One's a miner, the other's a rockstar--a half-blind directionally impaired rockstar. Oh man, I love these moles.
     

    Pecky: He's creepy and weird. Look at him. LOOK AT HIM. We never hear him talk, I'm thankful.
     

    Doc: He's awesome, he really, really is. He's also bubblegum pink <3
     

    Parin: The girl you play as, she has all sorts of different headgear and outfits. She rocks so much.
     
    And now for the VILLAINS (Sidenote: I was able to procure far better pictures of the big four than I was of anyone else. Oh the irony)
     
    Now the villains in this game are known as Phantoms, another breed of monster that's been invading for some unknown reason, these are the four servants (Technically five) who serve their mysterious leader.
     

    Bob: He's a musclehouse boxer who's not really that smart, I mean, really, not that smart. He speaks slowly in general aside from the word "Armor!"
     

    Mosby: Mosby owns one third of my soul, Mosby is incredibly awesome, ONE: Because he's a moth, TWO: Because he's adorable, THREE: Because nobody can understand a word that comes out of his mouth. NOT ONE.
     

    Roger: He's purple, he's a fish, he likes diamond rings and is rather...effeminate at times. He also seems to like the Prince more than he should. Put it together and you'll understand why Roger owns the second third of my soul.
     

    Cream: She's so cute. SO CUTE. She talks with a valley girl accent, but nevertheless you can't help but fall in love with her. She also competes with Roger for the prince's affections, and seems geniunely worried about what's going on. She's also pink, and owns the third third of my soul.
     

    Giga & The Prince: Giga is the big one, he doesn't say anything except his own name, and is apparently just a big scary floating monster killing thing. The prince on the otherhand is downright awesome, he uses weapons from hypodermic needles to fans to butcher knives. He's just plain cool, and his voice is fairly good too.
     
    Nowwww that the characters are all out of the way. Setting:
     
    Monster world: All of the levels have funny names, such as "Spinach Caverns", "Eggplant Caves", "Mile Palace", etc. They're fun.
     
    Finally, the objective of the game? Well, obviously stop the phantoms--but what else?
     
    Break stuff.
     
    I'm so serious, LehvakLah and I played this game so much that we started looking at trees, walls, and columns in the real world and going "I'd love to drill through that."
     
    Overall, the game just plain rocks. I'm going to say this, if you own a PSP and DO NOT own Gurumin, you're missing out.
     
    Especially at only $19.99 USD.
     
    Next up: Lego Star Wars II
    Then: The Claidi Journals
  4. Janus

    Gods

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! 2.0 (9) 
    This is an idea that's been floating in the back of my head since last week, and it was going to be the entry for Thursday--but I couldn't write to a degree that made me happy, so I scrapped it. Here is part one in all its glory.
     
    Part two comes tomorrow.
     
    Word count: 870
     
    Enjoy!
     

     

    Gods 
    Samuel East—Sam, for short, was sitting quietly on a bench outside the park; with a small book open on his lap he sat unobtrusively.
     
    To say that he was careful to ensure he was out of people’s way was an understatement. Sam had lived his entire life in this fashion, sitting quietly in the corners away from other people…usually with his nose in a book.
     
    It wasn’t what most people assumed; that people simply weren’t interesting to him. No, it was the fact that he didn’t want to be a bother, and so he simply shuttled himself away into dark corners with a book for company.
     
    On this day, however, something was different; even Sam could feel it…could feel that nervous prickle at the back of his neck. Glancing up from his book, Sam’s eyes darted around nervously, anxiously scanning the people gently moving around the park.
     
    “You won’t find me that way” Came a disturbingly cold voice. A voice that somehow managed to hover just at the edge of Sam’s hearing…making it impossible to figure out where it had come from.
     
    “Who…?” Sam murmured softly, half to himself as he again scanned the crowd that milled about the park.
    “Me.” Came the voice, full of dark humor.
    “But who are you?” Sam whispered, his eyes rapidly darting around as he tried to find a source for the mysterious voice.
    “Interesting question” the dark voice chuckled. “Who am I?” There was a pause. “I’m someone on a quest…and I believe you can help me with that, Sam.”
     
    Sam nearly dropped the book at this. His pudgy face flush as his hands scrambled to hold onto the book that had almost slipped from their grip.
    “How do you know me?” He croaked quietly, his throat drying out quickly.
    “You are full of questions, aren’t you?” came the voice. “Lucky for you at this point I happen to be full of answers. I know you, Samuel East, because I’ve been watching you for the past…oh…month or so, I’d say. And I’ve found that you will suit my purposes quite nicely.”
    “…You’ve been watching me?” Sam said, voice cracking. “For…a month?”
    “Yes.” The voice said simply.
    “Why?” Sam murmured, almost dreading the answer.
    “Because you can help me Sam, you can help me quite a bit.”
     
    Sam wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and looked downwards—having long since abandoned his vain quest of discovering the voice’s owner.
    “How?” he muttered.
    “Look up.” The voice commanded. Sam obliged.
     
    Sitting on the same bench as himself was a young child—a boy of no-more than six or seven. He had dark sandy hair and piercing green eyes which seemed to be boring directly into Sam’s own. Aside from his eyes, however, he seemed perfectly normal.
    “Thank you, Sam” the boy spoke. Sam nearly wet himself.
    “You’re…welcome?” Sam said questioningly.
    “Tell me, Sam. How much do you know about myths? About Gods?”
     
    Sam happened to be quite knowledgeable on this subject, having spent most of his life with his nose burrowed in a book he managed to read most myths at least one, and prided himself on his knowledge of the ancient Gods.
    “Quite a bit” Sam half-grinned.
    “As expected.” The boy said with a malicious smile. “Then you would know that often enough they appear to mortals in the guise of flesh.” Sam did a doubletake
    “You can’t be trying to tell me…”
    “That I’m a God?” The boy smiled again. “I won’t say anything then”
     
    Sam rubbed his eyes repeatedly, all nervous somehow evaporated now that he knew he wasn’t dealing with a human—or at least that’s what he felt.
    “Open your eyes.” Came the command—and Sam did as he was told.
     
    The boy was gone.
    “You see mortal, regretful though it is, your purposes is this. We as Gods cannot exist for a long period of time in this realm—we bend the fabric of time and space in such a way that we are able to force ourselves through the tiny pinprick that we’ve opened…but all too soon the fabric snaps back and sends us hurtling back into our own world.”
    “I…don’t understand” Sam murmured, looking around for the boy.
    “Of course you don’t. The simple fact is that if we want to do anything of worth on this world we need to find someway to avoid this slingshot effect—not only does it damage us, but it severely limits what we can do here in this realm. And so I have tried my own little experiment” The voice laughed darkly.
    “And what’s that?” Sam said, pocketing his book and standing up. There was no sense in staying on the bench anymore, he just felt it.
    “Why, having a helpful mortal such as yourself shield me, Sam.” The voice whispered.
     
    Sam glanced around, the sense of panic returning to him threefold. He barely resisted the urge to run from that spot and never return, and, taking a deep breath he turned in a full circle to take in the entire park. The boy really was gone.
    “Nice try, Sam.” The voice murmured. “But you and I are going to get to know each other quite well…”
  5. Janus

    Zero Hour

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! 2.0 (3) 
    I was going to write a part two to Days of Future past (You better believe I have ideas for the Phantoka and Mistika), but was unable to because of time constraints. Maybe tomorrow, we'll have to see.
     
    In the mean time, I enjoyed this, it was a nice little distraction from everything else.
     
    Wordcount: 652
     
    Enjoy!
     

     

    Zero Hour 
    “Ten”
     
    The countdown started. In my head I went over the past 24 hours rapidly, remembering all I had managed to accomplish in those last short hours.
     
    “Nine”
     
    Those now time-lost hours were quite possibly the last time I would spend on earth. Selected as I had been for the top-secret colonization project I had been training and preparing for over ten years—and it was all culminating on this night. I had naturally celebrated like a king.
     
    “Eight”
     
    I had wined and dined the finest of women, spent money like it was going out of style (And while it wasn’t, I very much doubted that dollars would be in plentiful supply on the moon. We’d need to find some other sort of money-substitute), and had more than enough to drink. Luckily I was in a project that really was the heart of everything scientific. A glass of water and a hangover pill and I was good as new.
     
    “Seven”
     
    I double checked the consoles all around me, barely paying attention to the readouts. I knew the computer would handle most of the difficult stuff, I was really just along for the ride until we made it into orbit. Only then would I actually get to do something worthwhile.
     
    “Six”
     
    I allowed my thoughts to drift to the hazy memories of last night. There had been women, that much I remembered. Some sort of expensive food…lobster maybe? Normally I wouldn’t have been so blasé about blowing such a huge chunk of change, but frankly it was on the government’s dime. And they owed me.
     
    “Five”
     
    I felt a shiver of excitement run up my spine. Partially out for the fact that soon the rocket engines would kick in and I’d be forced into my chair as an immense weight settled upon me—and then I’d be in the stars. Partially because I was remember some of what went on, and some of it wasn’t as hazy. A smile crept to my lips.
     
    “Four”
     
    All things considered, I felt I spent my last few hours on earth quite well, after all, as my friends used to say “Any night you can’t remember is a night worth living.” Of course I always thought it was rather silly if you couldn’t remember anything. I made sure to maintain some memory of what went on—otherwise what was the point?
     
    “Three”
     
    I gave the readouts another cursory glance as thoughts floated tepidly through my mind. Something was nagging me, but it didn’t hold much force. At least not as much force as the joke that had been bandied about by us ‘colonizers.’ That we’d have a nightclub and bar up and running within a week.
     
    “Two”
     
    With that grin-worthy thought out of the quagmire of my mind I was able to think slightly more clearly. Of course all that really did was give added urgency to the stray thought that I was unable to remember. I wracked my brain, mentally reading through everything I had done and was supposed to do. What was that thought that was dancing out of reach?
     
    “One”
     
    I closed my eyes, forcing myself to think. Inside my head I saw images of the past week I’d spent on earth. Women, elaborate clubs, gorgeous swimming pools, intense sports, and of course large bills…all of these things and more flashed before my eyes. Still that thought remained infuriatingly indistinct, like a word on the tip of my tongue. So close yet not there.
     
    “Zero”
     
    I felt the rocket boosters ignite, felt the intense pressure force me into my comfortable seat. I even vaguely noticed the ships’ computer taking over and controlling the various readouts. Finally the thought clicked smoothly into place, as thought the force of impact had knocked it loose.
     
    As I sped away from earth and to my destination amongst the stars I remembered.
     
    I had a casserole in the oven.
     
  6. Janus

    Lego Star Wars Ii

    By Janus,

    'lo all.
     
    I'm actually going to make the odd attempt to update this blasted thing every once in a while. Especially as I have set out my entries ahead of time. I'm actually working on a deadline or something, it's rather creepy.
     
    Now, first off, some things I neglected to mention about Gurumin:
     
    A. The little girl fights with a DRILL. Giant magic drill, it's fairly awesome. In addition to this, every strike you make levels up your drill, and there are up to three levels to achieve--however it's not a set thing, if you're hit too many times at any level, you will be forced back to an earlier level. This is easily tracked on the drill gauge.
     
    B. The attacks you learn are fabulous and awesome, in addition to the standard hilarious attacks (Pretty missile kick, etc) there are learnable attacks that you gain by purchasing drill upgrades--why are these so wonderful? Because they were made for the button masher. Lah and I button-mashed our way through more combos than ever before, but it was also very possible to learn the combos and execute them precisely. Plus there are elements for the drill, Fire parts, shock parts, and ice parts. It's a surprisingly customizable weapon.
     
    C. Unlike most other games, Healing is awesome. Rather than taking a med-pack, getting a band-aid, drinking medecine, etc...there are two different ways of healing in this game. The first is the heal point, which looks like a stone platform which suddenly engulfs you in light and has a circle of runes encircling you. It's surprisingly cool looking. Two...you eat, but you don't just eat boring foods, no, you eat COOKIES and CHOCOLATE and STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE (which Parin loves more than life itself) each of which restores a different amount of life. Of course the kid's also able to ingest GEMSTONES, which is slightly creepy..but hey!
     
    Now to the main reason of this entry...
     

     

    LEGO Star Wars: II 
    This game is also awesome, super-awesome even, it is basically TIED with Gurumin in levels of awesome--and I even have a slightly glitchy-slowish-annoying-at-times copy!
     
    LEGO Star Wars II is fairly obviously all 'bout Star Wars--but in this case it is the ORIGINAL Trilogy (Which I adore, ew, prequels) AKA episodes IV, V, and VI.
     
    The story naturally follows these three episodes, tying each together flawlessly. The central hub of this game is Mos Eisley Cantina, wherein you can go to various destinations. Listed here.
    The Bar - where you can receive hints, unlock extras, input codes, and buy extra characters (As well as check your overall progress and time.) It also autosaves for you here The Bacta tanks - where you can create your own terrible LEGO Monstrosity. I call mine Princess <3 The Outside - where you can look at your various spaceships and vehicles that you unlock. Wireless cafe - which is fairly obvious. Here's your WiFi area for multiple players The Episodes - At first only IV is available, but upon completing the first mission V and VI are unlocked, allowing you to play them in any order you want (I'm a purist, IV first!) Extras - a PSP exclusive where you can fight the bosses of Episodes I, II, and III (As well as unlock certain characters) But that's not all! If you're a character with a blaster, blow the stuffing out of the chairs in the Cantina and you'll receive studs--if you're a Sith or Jedi you can use your mumbo-jumbo on the lightymajigs and get more studs. (They're money, Puffin. Money, not men) 
    Gameplay is fairly simple, if somewhat disturbing in that you are an unholy ghost that posesses people's bodies--I'm semi serious. By pressing the triangle button a shock of blue light goes from one character to the other (If you only have two characters on screen) and suddenly you control the other. Kinda creepy o.o;
     
    Luckily the fun doesn't end there! (Because if it did, this would be one lame game) as there's so much unlockable content--the game can be 'beaten' and then it can be Mastered. Beating the level does litttle unless you can find the various things hidden within. For example, in every one of the 30(!) levels, there are 10 Mini-capsule kits and One power brick, discovering each of these is worth one gold brick (There are seemingly 150 in all) Additionally beating the level gets you another gold brick, attaining True Jedi status (IE: Getting a lot of money. Apparently all you have to do to be a Jedi is get lots and lots and lots of money. I'm down with that) gets you a fourth, and finally playing the level in the PSP-exclusive Challenger mode gets you a fifth. There are five gold bricks in each level.
     
    Naturally it would be too easy for you to only have to play through once to hit all the Mini-capsules, so the creators made it a wee more difficult--and fun. Once you've played through the story mode you unlock freeplay, in which you can choose which character you play as (7 or so additional characters will be randomly assigned in order to give you the best range of abilities) Which is incredibly fun, especially as each character is unique. For example: Captain Antilles does a strange little dance before removing his blaster, Princess Leia seems to enjoy slapping people a bit too much, and Imperial forces cannot double-jump--instead they fall flat on their face.
     
    Certain areas are only accessible to certain members, for example some doors are locked by a Stormtrooper only camera, whereas some areas are available through certain abilities that you must discover, IE: Blowing up everything with thermal detonators until something finally explodes.
     
    IN ADDITION TO THIS (Kind of scary that there's more, isn't it?) There are also vehicular levels--and vehicular levels with Freeplay, where you can play with the various ships and transports you unlock.--which is a lot--and getting all those Golden bricks let you build something else.
     
    But wait, there's more! (It just goes on and on, doesn't it?) Each of the Power-bricks allows you unlock special abilities, for example I have thus far unlocked: Super blasters, (It's in the name, blow things up!) Super Lightsabers, (They turn purple and go scary powerful) Invincibility (You don't die from shots, or lose studs when you plummet off an edge), and Self-detonation (I'm fairly sure I don't want to use that one...yet)
     
    As for the characters? Oh there's just a few, only around ONE-HUNDRED AND TWENTY to unlock. Additonally, for every character you unlock you gain more pieces for your Bacta-horror.
     
    And then you finally get to the levels, the levels just plain rock, each is tricky and interesting and undeniably Star Wars--with LEGO humor thrown in, such as hot-tubbing Stormtroopers (Playable character, by the way!) And Darth Vader popping minifig heads off, rather than choking.
     
    My personal favourite is the fact that there is not ONE utterance of dialogue throughout this game so you get to watch LEGO Star Wars characters act crazy with only facial expressions and the occasional grunt or groan--or unintenilligble mutter.
     
    Overall, once again, BUY THIS GAME. It rules the PSP.
     
    My only complaint is that, unlike Gurumin, LEGO Star Wars II is not a fan of you turning the system off in midplay to conserve battery power, and goes through a laboriously long boot-up phase.
     
    Coming up next: The Claidi Journals
    Why my Room is a nightmare
    On the current state of BIONICLE.
  7. Janus
    FOR SCIENCE! (5) 
    Well once again the week has come, and once again it is time for me to begin writing. 2,000 is the challenge and once again I've hit it.
     
    Today is a little different, as, with some advice I split the 2,000 into two seperate stories. Both very different from each other--but it's up to you as to which you enjoy more.
     
    Keep in mind that I will begin accepting challenges for Friday, and the vote will be held on Thursday night.
     
    Enjoy!
     
     

    Almost Beautiful 
    It was almost beautiful that day. The snow fell in soft gentle flakes, and the dim lights of the city glowed; illuminating the falling snow and giving it some ethereal presence.
     
    I saw all of this from my sentry post high above the city. Up here the snow was brighter, more beautiful—but also somehow tainted by the grime of the fortress. It was an odd contrast, the soft and pure snow that fell slowly onto the quiet city…while I sat watch, my gun safely stored in its holster.
     
    It had been almost a year since war had rocked the inhabitants of our city, almost a year since we of Colth had formed an alliance with our neighboring cities.
     
    I sighed and shook my head, less than a hundred years ago the idea of wars between cities would have been considered mad, and yet here we were; Once known as the Trinity, the cities of Colth, Haspen, and Talga were now in an uneasy alliance. While there had been no outright fighting for close to year, tensions were still running high, and the people of Colth demanded the military take action.
     
    And so here I was—sitting atop the Fortress Halget: a monstrosity of iron and steel that stretched upwards and reared into the sky, daring anyone to challenge its might and attack its people. I stood on the third tier of Halget, the watching tier, with nothing but cold iron beneath my feet and a walkway that led into the warmth of the fortress’ inner sanctum. Directly in front of me was my OmNIS, a strange apparatus that seemed to be nothing more than tubes and a primitive gas engine—but for someone trained in the use of the system—someone such as myself, it was a valuable ally on the watching tier.
     
    All around me were my fellow OmNIS operators, each pointing their apparatus in a different direction. Three systems to the North, three to the East, and three to the South—each pointed towards a different city.
     
    The watching tier was the third of four tiers at Halget, each tier being assigned a specific duty that it must fill out. The first was Infantry and armory, the fourth was command—and the second lay a mystery to all but the highest ranking soldiers. It was rarely opened, and when it was armed guards were posted at every entrance, and a strange hissing sound could be heard in the corridors.
     
    My thoughts turned to the second tier as I stood at the catwalk, gripping the metal bar with one hand as the other fumbled for my lighter—I didn’t smoke like some other soldiers, but the gently dancing flame helped take my mind off the bitter freeze of the wind.
     
    I allowed my eyes to roam over what I could see of the third tier; the lighter casting a pale shadow on the dark metal of the fortress. Around me I could see my fellow operators, and my replacement sitting at my OmNIS system…I knew I had nothing more than a few short hours before I would again have my head inside the Oscillating Mirror Nagivation Intelligence System.
     
    The third tier was a perfect circle, wrapping its way around the conical body of the fortress like a dog curled up around its master’s feet. I could only see the half that viewed the outside of the city walls, but I knew that the circle wrapped wholly around, and that three identical OmNIS systems were eternally aimed at the city of Colth—to ensure that no scouts from Haspen or Talga made it inside the walls.
     
    I glanced skywards, amazed at the fact that light was fading so quickly, but already I could see the dim twilight taking over the sky. It would be another long night tonight, as the snow fell softly all around and the citizens slept, we, the soldiers of Colth would guard our proud city, and protect all those who lay within it.
     
    But there would be time enough for those thoughts later. For now I ached, the heavy metal of the OmNIS shroud causing my upper back and neck to scream as they worked—now that scream had dulled to a gentle murmur, but the ache still remained. I needed to rest.
     
    The light had completely disappeared by the time I entered the fortress, bleeding from the sky like ink from a ruined masterpiece. I watched it fade, allowing my eyes the gift of real sight, rather than the elaborate system of mirrors that made up the OmNIS, then I walked into the warm light of the corridor.
     
    The corridor was dimly lit, with several small lights lining the metal near the top, next to each light was a small rivet and a patch of steel. We had all been told on our first day at Halget that these tunnels were meant to withstand an enemy assault, and that if worse came to worse we were to fall back to them and await orders. None of us had ever needed to.
     
    I thought about my family—were they proud to know that I was up here risking my life? I didn’t know. I thought about my father, would he be happy know that his little girl was helping protect the city? Would my mother still treat me like her daughter? Or was I now forged of iron and steel, another component of the fortress?
     
    I shook my head, allowing my thoughts to be clean of such mental cobwebs. I was a soldier, of that there was no doubt, but what did that really mean? I placed a gloved hand on the cold metal of the tunnel, allowing my body to lean against its smooth surface. Perhaps all I needed was a break.
     
    There was a shout, a scream, and a cacophonous rumble. Without thinking I pushed myself onto the wall and ran towards the corridor exit. I needed to get back to my post!
     
    Darkness greeted me as I exited the tunnel, my eyes adjusting to the sudden change in lighting. I looked around at my fellow OmNIS operators. They were all dead.
     
    Even without my system I could see it, jutting into the sky like a great giant of old: A Talga Mekan suit. Its sensors focused upon the fortress ahead—fortress Halget.
     
    I reached for my gun, hardly knowing what I was doing…and then I was surrounded by lights. The Mekan had spotted me, its baleful eye-like sensors aimed at me.
     
    I did not scream, I did not cry. I aimed my weapon at the suits exposed engine and fired. I thought only of my parents—would they be proud?
     
    And then the world exploded.
     
    I lay on my back, my body in agony. The suit had fired and missed its intended target, but had shattered the bulkhead directly behind me, preventing me from escaping through the corridor—and almost simultaneously my shot had miraculously hit the exposed engine, holding just enough force to penetrate the engine and destroy the suit.
     
    The explosion was immense, and my injuries severe—I couldn’t feel my body from the waist down, and I knew that my arms and torso were covered in burns. Movement was impossible, all there was for me in the minutes I had left was the sight of the sky.
     
    Though dark, the snow still fell, its gentle flakes descending through the air like glittering sparkles. It was almost beautiful.
     
    Almost.
     
    Total Word Count: 1,249
     
     
     
     

    The Flamingo 
    “Hey, hey, hey did you hear?” A shrill piercing sound grated through my ears as the perpetrator danced in front of my eyes. His boyish face alight with glee
    “Hear what, twerp?” I murmured. It was way too early for the brat to be bugging me already. In fact, I glanced at the alarm clock, it was only….Oh crud. It was two hours past my usual wake up time.
    “Flamingoes, or, by their proper classification Phoenicopterus, eat upside down!” Clearly this was the most important thing in the world to my brother.
     
    “I see, that’s fascinating. Really.” I yawned as I pushed myself out of bed. Talk about your rude awakenings.
    “there’s more!”
    “Oh?”
    “Yes, did you know that pale pink, or white Flamingoes are unhealthy? And therefore the most common interpretation in the media is completely incorrect?” His voice careened into the higher decibels as he practically shrieked the last part. Ow.
    “Really? That is absolutely terrible, a true shame. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to actually get out of the house”
    “But there’s more!” He shouted after me, his little feet scampering alongside mine as I made my way to the bathroom.
     
    At the door to the bathroom I held up my hand, the palm just inches away from his nose.
    “Nuh-uh, squirt. This is Mano-A-Mirror time. Flamingo facts wait until after I’m done. Go hang out in your room for a bit”
     
    Finally, mercifully, he relented and retreated to the confines of his (Very pink) room, leaving me in peace to gaze at my handsome visage. What would the world do without more guys like me? Well, thankfully they’d never have to find out, because I was here, and I was always finding the best ways to make myself more beautiful than I already was. Quite a challenge, as I was incredible already, if I do say so myself.
     
    I spent a good half-hour in the bathroom, curling my wonderfully silky, chestnut hair. Studying my reflection for any hint of an imperfection, brushing my teeth until my gums practically bled…and of course applying just a hint of make up—after all, Actors wear it, and what was I destined to be, if not an actor?
     
    At the end of my regime I quietly opened the door and slipped out, having my brother none-the-wiser that I was managing to escape from his endless tirades about…you guessed it, Flamingoes. I had almost made my clean escape, when, at the top of the stairs my cell phone rang. I swear you could hear a sonic boom as my brother zoomed towards me. Luckily I had the excuse of answering a cell phone. After all, you can’t talk to two people at the same time, right?
     
    I answered the phone
    “Yo, you got me”
    There was a sound, musical and high pitched, like a cross between a flute and a squawking bird. That was some weird interference. I tried again
    “Hello, this is Dave.”
    A pause, then a furious bout of that strange musical squawk—obviously they were either a complete lunatic, or they were going through some incredibly strange interference. I went with the latter
    “Listen, I can’t hear you, try again later, okay?”
    This time there was nothing but silence, obviously the interference had finally disconnected the call completely.
     
    I turned to my brother, desperately wracking my brain for an excuse for why I couldn’t listen to another one of his silly Flamingo facts, when my phone rang again. Talk about saved by the bell!
     
    I held up a finger, indicating the phone and that obviously I couldn’t talk again because…well, the phone.
     
    “Talk to me” I said, unconsciously grinning. Undoubtedly it was one of my many adoring fans.
    Pause.
     
    Squark squawk squaaawk.
     
    Oh jeese, not this again.
    “Listen, you’ve got a seriously bad connection here. Can you call back when your connection is better? I can’t understand you at all!”
     
    Squaaaaaawksquaaarkelliotsquaaawk?
     
    Wait, what? Elliot? That was my little brother—was this his friends playing some sort of weird practical joke on me—were they all total weirdos about Flamingos?
     
    Well, throwing caution to the wind I decided to play along with their little joke. I held the phone to my ear and said.
    “Yeah sure, just a sec.” I then gestured for my brother to take it, all the while making sure to look as nonchalant as possible.
     
    I gotta give my little bro credit, he could be an actor almost as good as me one day, if the look of fake confusion on his face was any indication of his talent. After all, I knew he had to be the mastermind behind this lame-brained plan.
     
    “…Hello?” He murmured, all his confidence evaporating as he held the phone. On the other end I could hear the unintelligible squawks and squarks.
     
    Elliot played his part to a T, looking completely confused and taken off guard by the whole situation. Then, when he thought I wasn’t looking I saw his eyes go hard as he nodded fiercely.
     
    With a meek “Goodbye” he hung up the phone, handed it back to me. Muttering something about how it was a wrong number, but he realized I was in a hurry so he’d let me go if I promised to talk Flamingo when I got back.
     
    I said sure, I mean, what was I supposed to say? “No, I know all about your secret joke with your friends and it’s totally lame?” Not when I hadn’t even figured out the joke!
     
    With a smile he scampered back to his room, shutting the door with a loud bang…and because of that bang he never noticed that I was almost right behind him. Breathing a sigh of relief at not getting being hit in the face with a door, I bent down to peek through the cracks.
     
    The room was completely empty.
     
    Okay, this was impossible. Throwing open the door I burst in, looking in every direction for my kid brother—but he wasn’t there. I tore open his closet and rustled around in the junk he stored in it—but he wasn’t there either.
     
    And then I heard it, a slight rumbling that I could barely feel in my feet. Rushing to the window I gazed outside at the strangest sight I had ever seen.
     
    There was my brother in the cockpit of a bright pink (with black highlights) Jet…shaped like a Flamingo.
     
    Nowadays I let my brother ramble on about Flamingoes, after all, if he ever actually reveals his secrets to me I bet there could be a sweet movie made about it.
     
    Starring me, in the role of my brother.
     
    Total Word Count: 1,110
  8. Janus

    Regular As Clockwork

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! 2.0 (5) 
    Not such a fan of this one, though ironically enough I feel quite similar to the character in the story.
     
    Maybe I'll feel her sense of relief tomorrow?
     
    Wordcount: 602
     
    Enjoy!
     

     

    Regular as clockwork 
    Colour splashed across the canvas as the painter began her work, the soft tip of her brush dipping into the thick paint that spilled across the previously blank cloth.
     
    She gently drew her brush across the white canvas; making elegant lines with the red paint that stained the material. When at last she had finished with the web of lines on the canvas she carefully washed her brush, watching offhandedly as the paint dissolved in the thinner.
     
    She had been painting like this for three days now. On and off spurts of creativity that nearly forced her to work, an immovable wall of force that bowled over any flimsy excuse her mind could muster. Naturally she took breaks, every three hours she would rise from her hunched over position; popping her back and massaging feeling back into her tired limbs. Every three hours, regular as clockwork.
     
    She stared into the inky thinner she had placed next to her, gazing languidly at the red paint slowly melting off the bristles of the brush. As she watched the water gradually cloud over in a shade of red she spoke out loud to herself, the sound of her own voice surprising her.
    “Blood and water…” she paused, not sure where the thought was going.
     
    A sigh escaped her lips and she removed the brush from the thinner, tenderly wiping it down and checking the bristles. Next she removed the lid from her next shade, a brilliant yellow to compliment the pre-existing red. She moved to dip her brush into the thick paint when suddenly a shrill ring pierced through the air.
     
    She jumped. One hand clutching her chest and the other firmly holding the brush she glanced around the room… and realized that the annoying sound was coming from next to her. Her timer set for every three hours had trilled loudly.
     
    She made to stand up, her muscles groaning in protest, before a groan from her own lips joined them. In her previous panic she had knocked the brilliant yellow paint onto the canvas, and now her elaborate spider web of red was being overwhelmed by an onslaught of the bright colour.
     
    She cursed loudly, her shriek matching pitch with the still beeping timer. Dropping to her knees she desperately attempted to save the painting, drawing the best patterns she could with the viscous paint.
     
    She lost track of time, sweat forming all across her body as she gently traced forms out of the bright yellow paint. At last she finished, a final stroke completing an incredible lattice of red and yellow intertwined with each other in an elaborate pattern. And in the very center of this lattice were two large globs of paint mixing and creating a new colour.
     
    She smiled. For once she was really satisfied with a work she had done, for once she had really felt ‘in touch’ with her artwork. It was an incredible feeling for her, something that she had yearned for since she had first begun art.
     
    All throughout her working life she had been painting commissions for people, never truly feeling like her heart was in it—but this…accident made her feel a sense of satisfaction she had only dreamed of.
     
    She stepped back to glance at her work, unmindful of the now silent timer laying on the ground behind her, and with an earsplitting crack the timepiece announced both its presence and its demise.
     
    Oddly enough, she felt unperturbed by this. Bending down she gently cradled the ruined thing in her arms before turning and tossing it in the garbage.
     
    She had art to do.
     
  9. Janus

    Getting To Know You

    By Janus,

    I am Janus, I am ancient, I am ageless, I am omnipotent.
     
    And I do not exist.
     
    I am a shell, a false face that someone masquerades as, I am nothing more than a mask that allows a living flesh and blood human to do his work online. I do not, have not, and will never exist except in his mind, and perhaps in yours as well.
     
    My name is Robert, a quaint name but the one that I am blessed with.
     
    Why am I writing this? Is it ego? An overinflated sense of self?...That may be part of it, but the primary reason is simply to connect.
     
    Each of us on this website lives a parallel life. We both do and do not exist.
     
    One part of us lives a normal life and is known by 'real' people, a flesh and blood human who is a member of our own society. The other however is a mental construct, our own 'persona' that we can wear whenever we want.
     
    However, Janus is not very connectable--not in his current position at least. Janus is simply one of my (Robert's) faces and while I try my best to help, neither I, or that aspect of me, has ever been too terribly outgoing.
     
    Thus this entry, sometimes I think it's a simple matter of remembering this duality that we lead online. Each and every member of this website both does and doesn't exist--but when you are speaking to the digital construct that information is being perceived and filtered through the eyes of the real human who's looking at their monitor.
     
    Each of us, blessed with this duality must also realize that we each have our own fractured view of the world--not to say that it's twisted, simply fractured, incomplete, missing portions. I can only see my own view of the world and not anyone elses--because I am me, I am Robert.
     
    Basically in the end I believe it comes down to this: The moderating staff of this website may at times appear ruthless and oppressive to some members, I will not deny this.
     
    But remember that sometimes members also seem alien and antagonistic to us.
     
    What is the best solution to this?
     
    Remember that our projection is not what we are, I am not Janus, you are not your screen name.
     
    You are you, and I am me.
     
    But together we can become We, and we're far stronger that way.
     
    -Robert
     
     
  11. Janus

    That's Just Your Opinion!

    By Janus,

    There is a scourge across our fair board, a scourge so devious and so malicious that it seems to infect every last member. It's a parasite that seems to grow stronger and stronger as leaps voraciously from one host to another...
     
    What is this deadly parasite? It's called an opinion.
     
    An opinion is a deadly and cruel thing, and anyone with an opinion should be openly mocked and ridiculed, for this is the only cure for such an infectious disease. Only with this cleansing fire can the parasite be killed and those who began to think all sorts of strange things (Such as the fact that they should be able to think what they want!) will be returned to normality.
     
    Should you see anyone with an opinion I implore you to attack them from a safe distance, barrage them insults and demean everything about them you can! Above all, however, do not engage them in intelligent conversation, that is how the virus spreads--and sooner than you think you'll find yourself infected with an opinion as well!
     
     
     
     
    ......For those of you cannot tell, the above is complete and utter sarcasm--but not really so far from what I've seen on the boards. EVERYONE is entitled to their opinion: Be it something you approve of or not, however lately I've seen the word "opinion" thrown around like it's the deadliest of insults.
     
    "That's just your opinion!"
     
    Understand that what you're really saying here is "Shut up and conform. Be just like me"
     
    Well I HAVE an opinion and I encourage all of you who do to stand up for yourself and your opinion.
     
    Oh yeah, and I greatly dislike the '08 sets and storyline.
     
    That's opinion for ya
     
     
  13. Janus
    FOR SCIENCE!
     
    "Like a vast Predatory bird…"
     
    H'lo all you gentlefolk. Some of you are no doubt believing that the world will end soon, given that I have updated not once—but TWICE! And in rapid succession (Well, rapid for me anyhow)
     
    However I'm here to assure that the world is indeed safe and secure—well at least I pose no threat. Or not much of one—only a code yellow at the most
     
    NEVERTHELESS, this entry does indeed serve a purpose—or rather, it serves a PROMISE.
     
    Y'see, many of you might not know this, but for quite a few years I had aspirations on becoming an author (Instead I find myself as a Martial Arts Instructor. Talk about KICK BUTT HA HA JOKE), however I cannot let go of my author aspirations—why?
     
    Quite simply it's a matter of efficiency. I spend at least 25% of my free time in a state of worldbuilding, this is a GROSSLY misappropriated time given what actually gets done. Thus I either figure out how to stop my brain from doing so* (Impossible, by the way) or I find a way to force myself into productivity!
     
    THUS THIS WAS BORN.
     
    It's a simple enough concept, really. My writing skills have dulled over time and I find myself struggling for words that once came effortlessly. This is uncool.
     
    And so I've come up with this solution "FOR SCIENCE!" will be an ongoing series—possibly until the day I die (HA). There will be no set requirements for the most part, but the basic layout is as follows.
    Every day I will write a minimum of 2,000 words. This can be about any subject. Throughout the week I will collect comments on what people are interested in me writing about. Any subject that is BZP appropriate will be considered. Any subject I am not familiar with must be presented with enough information that I can have at least a loose understanding of it. Every Friday I will randomly select one of the choices given and write 4,000 words on that given subject. Lather, Rinse, Repeat. I will accept additional challenges on an an occasional basis. This can include length, using certain words, using a certain style, or using a certain phrase--or anyything else you can think of! Since the point of this is to help improve not only my SKILL in writing, but also my FREQUENCY in writing. I will accept crits and ENCOURAGE people to bug me on AIM/MSN if I have not updated on a given day. I am frequently a lazy butt. 
     
    So without further adieu, I present to you my first 2,000 word monstrosity.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

    Why I can never be evil 
    I think I first realized my ineptitude for evil at the tender age of ten. You see it wasn't just my penchant for alliteration, or my love of prancing and dancing and romancing. It wasn't even the fact that I was a blond haired blue eyed baby faced tinychild.
     
     
    No, indeed it came about because of how I made and ate my food.
     
    Undoubtedly some of you are wondering if that mean that I didn't viciously stab my food and then leap upon the still stabbed remains and feast on them—well you're bloody right. That'd just be weird. What do you take me for?
     
    However I also didn't sit politely like a good little lad and smile eagerly waiting for the pot to boil (Protip: IT DOESN'T IF YOU WATCH), nor did I hum to myself as I gently poured in the spices. And I certainly didn't take even-measured mouthfuls and ensure that I chewed 21 times EXACTLY.
     
    No, it was nothing that dramatic. In fact it was something rather trivial.
     
    Now as I mentioned above I have a horrible penchant for worldbuilding at the worst times. Often enough this included when I was alone and making food, resulting in all sorts of strange voices and forced accents and epic battles before I sat down to eat…it was a good thing no one was ever home when I made food, huh?
     
    Now to take a brief sidetrack, my favourite food, and the one that most often resulted in this strange story was in fact ramen noodles. For those of you unaware of what ramen is—go to your cupboard. Good, now open it up. Very good. See those little packets of INSTA-SOUP? Yeah, that's ramen. Horribly unhealthy and my raison d'etre in the days of my youth.
     
    Now there was nothing particularly different about the way I made ramen vs. anyone else. I still filled the pot full of water, put the water on to boil, and then put in the noodles.
     
    And that's where the problem came in.
     
    All of a sudden it wasn't just noodles and water! No, it was either some sort of massive floating continent suddenly thrust into temperatures that were beyond their control! Or perhaps the water was fuel that had been contaminated by some strange substance! Regardless of the trimmings the result was always the same: OH NO SOMETHING HAS GONE WRONG!
     
    And so it began. I would narrate the entire situation, often taking the place of the person or force behind the wrongdoing. In one example I was a corrupt executive who had determined that the floating continent had incredibly useful minerals, and thus had devised a clever plan to superheat it, and thus smelt the material into its rawest form—the fact that the inhabitants would die was of no concern to me! In the other I was an elite espionage agent who was tampering with the fuel supply of a mass conglomerate so that I could hold power over their holdings and force them to comply with my demands.
     
    Sounds pretty evil, huh?
     
    I thought so too. I even had the perfect voice for each of them. For one it was slightly haughty and arrogant, a blend of class and brutality that made your skin crawl, with a tinge of cold detachment. For the other it was smooth and silky, quiet but powerful. Frightening in its silence.
     
    For a period of minutes I would have this dichotomy playing back and forth. Acting as both the cruel aggressor and the terrified inhabitants. Be they the peaceable folk of the floating continent or the highly intelligent scientists who had designed the efficient fuel. Clearly they just wanted to help people!
     
    And then it happened. Then something inside of me went "Dude, what are you doing? Stop being so mean." And it all came crashing down.
     
    Somehow the cold, detached, and cruel executive would have a change of heart and realize that there were PEOPLE down there! And while it was too late to stop the superheating plan, would send ships to rescue the poor people! And naturally the profits made from their continent's raw materials would go into purchasing a new, more elaborate continent that better suited them!
     
    Somehow the efficient and deadly covert operative would relent and realize that these scientists had designed the fuel with naught but the most noble of intentions, and what kind of monster would he be to stand in the way of such idealism and hope for the future? Instead he would sacrifice himself to remove the contaminant, wishing only to be remembered.
     
     
    Yeah. I know. What.
     
    Even when at last the time had come to eat my wonderful splendor the stories would not stop. In fact the incredible rapidity with which the tales would transform themselves, essentially performing massive retcon, was astounding.
     
    The most common story here was fairly simple. It was a mostly uninhabitable planet made of molten slag. However some settlers had managed to create basic shelters and had been living there for the past few years.
     
    AND THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN A GIGANTIC BEAST APPEARED OUT OF NOWHERE.
     
    Not only was this thing cruel enough to eat the settlers, but it seemed to feast upon the planet itself! OH THE HUMANITY!
     
    And then that little "Dude, stop being evil" would kick in, and the massive beast would in fact become a giant harvesting machine. Something that the settlers had originally had on their expedition to help create a hospitable place to live, but had for whatever reason been lost in the depths of space (or perhaps it was the settlers had been lost).
     
    Regardless, the result was the same. While the harvesting machine would ingest both planet and inhabitant, the settlers were harmlessly placed in a comfortable holding area until the people in the machine's cockpit were informed that the planet was inhabited. While simultaneously, the molten slag would go into a storage pit to be used for raw materials at a later date.
     
    By the way, just to remind you. THIS IS ABOUT MAKING AND EATING SOUP.
     
    Yes, my imagination is incredibly overactive, of this I am aware. In fact this is likely a strong component of my inability to be evil—the tendency of my imagination to immediately go overboard would likely make it impossible for me to pull of any truly evil schemes. After all, it's hard to be the evil overlord when you're feeling bad about locking the hero in the cell—and oh jeese it could be cold in there! And when was the last time that poor person ate?
     
    All of a sudden the PRISON CELL has become a comfortable lounge area with blankets and cookies for all.
     
    Now this is not to say that I cannot create evil characters. In fact I pride myself on creating some heartless and cruel monsters—however I will say that almost inevitably they have a reason and are not ALL bad. In fact most of my "BIG BAD" characters aren't even characters—or bad. They're simply forces that do what they do regardless of outside influence or pressure. Perhaps this Is indicative of the way I view the world?
     
    But enough of that tangent, creating evil characters does not make ones quotient for evil go up, nor does creating heroic characters make one's courage increase. They're simply behaviours that are observed and transcribed into stories. That's not the argument here.
     
    The argument is the fact that left to my own devices, with no one around to judge me, playing in a world I created in two minutes. I was unable to be evil.
     
    Now this is not to say I can't be a bit cruel, or even mean. I'm still simply human and have committed many acts that were invariably cruel and malicious—I am justifiably ashamed of these acts and try not to allow them to occur—but hey, life.
     
    However evil and cruel/mean/butthead are two completely opposing things. To be mean is more of an act, likewise with cruel and buttheadedness. However to be evil can either be a single act of absolute depravity, or an existence of general buttheadedness. Evil is not what I do.
     
    Y'see, the main thing I'm getting at here is not that I am a MORAL AN UPSTANDING YOUNG MAN WHO SHUNS ALL THE BAD THINGS IN THE WORLD AND STRIVES BE A WHOLESOME AND CARING PILLAR OF LIGHT AND JUSTICE—not to say that's bad. Just saying that's not what I'm getting at.
     
    I'm saying the reason that I could never be evil (if it weren't apparent enough in the above stories) is GUILT. I have an incredibly overactive guilt complex—enough so that even those cruel characters acting on their own were forced to conform to the standards set out by my morality standard—why? Because they were acting in proxy to me and they were doing things that made me GUILTY.
     
    Not cool.
     
    So, really, I could never be evil simply because of that guilt complex. Remove that guilt and I have no idea what I'm capable of, but with it I'm pretty much harmless.
     
    I want to give you another example. Think back to the last time you were angry. And I mean Angry. I MEAN ANGRY. I MEAN REALLY, REALLY PEEVED. Got it? Good.
     
    Now obviously it varies from person to person, but when one tries to contain one's anger (Not suppress, mind you. Just contain until you can let it go) various reactions occur. As someone with a highly active imagination I tend to imagine things happening around me—and when I'm TICKED—and have nowhere in particular to vent my frustrations (You know what I mean, various things happen all after another and you have no idea WHAT you're supposed to be mad AT) I tend to imagine the world in a general state of panic—it really varies on multiple factors what the aggressors are, but the general rule is that the world is falling to pot and I'm THE EVIL MAN WHO WALKS THROUGH THE CHAOS WITH A SMILE MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
     
    For example in some it's Mecha and armor troops blowing up everything all around, while I stride through the war zone in my trench coat smiling at the madness all around.
     
    Sounds pretty evil, right?
     
    Again, after a period of about 30 seconds everything changes. The Mecha stop dropping bombs, the armor troops stop firing. Instead they start to help rebuild, because you see I was only attacking so I could unify the world against a common enemy!
     
    Yeah. I know.
     
    Please do keep in mind, though. This doesn't mean I'm sunshine and candy all day long. I can be quite the cruel lad (as mentioned above), but inevitably I'll do something to make it up to you—unless you're a real butthead.
     
    But I can hear some of you piping up
    "But what about a minion, couldn't you be a minion?"
     
    Ehn, that one's up in the air. I mean minions can be misled and believe that the Big Bad is in fact a beacon of hope and light and freedom—when in fact he's just kicked a puppy out a window and bombed an orphanage. So could I be a minion? Yeah, probably. So long as the guy was good in hiding he was evil. If he was openly evil then I'd have to say no. Unless I was a MiNO (Minion in name only) as in not really doing any work, just getting all the cool perks of working for an evil overlord—but even so I doubt I could do it. Some of you may not realize it was the GUILT complex that had me resign for Global Moderator…because I just didn't have the time to do the job I felt I needed to do.
     
    So, really, that sums it all up. I can a butthead, (Heck, my title is "The Buttest" for a reason!), a meanie, and a cruel and malicious person, but not evil.
     
    It's up to you to decide which is worse.
     
     
    TOTAL WORD COUNT: 2,023
     
    I'd like to take this moment to say that I have NO Idea what's going to come out my "FOR SCIENCE!" series. It could be short stories, it could be rambles, it could be essays, it could be...well, strange things. ENJOY =D
     
    Oh, and SOOPER BONUS POINTS to anyone who can name where the title of this entry came from.
     
     
     
    *Seriously, most of my MOCs came about by sheer fluke. Because I sat down, started fiddling with pieces and about an hour later had a fully operational world with various characters—AND NO FINISHED MOC. When I finished one it was a miracle.
  14. Janus

    Clox

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! (12) 
    This is a ramble, this is just random jibberish. If you can make any point of the below story I truly commend you because I started writing at 11:00 PM and finished at 1:26 AM with a barely sensical story. I really should start on these earlier in the day.
     
    Attempt to enjoy!
     

    Clox 
    Tick, tick, tick
     
    The sound came from everywhere, emanating out from an immense source and echoing into the world; it resounded through streets and up tall towers, it boomed around deep valleys and water-filled ravines.
     
    It was a clock. Or rather, it wasn’t a clock.
     
    You see, those of you reading this think of a clock as a small little (sometimes rounded) object which fits snuggly on a wall or desk, and ticks away quietly in a corner. Essentially it’s a something almost always forgettable.
     
    This wasn’t any of those things. In fact if anything it was a city in the corner of a clock—in fact it was a city on the corner of a clock. The city was called Tenolck and it was a bustling hive of industry, with all sorts of people constantly bustling around doing their assorted tasks; their gears whirring and clicking smoothly as they went about their days.
     
    …What? Oh, my apologies. I had so forgotten that for the people reading this, the concept of people with gears is a strange and foreign one. Oh yes, the people of Tenolck had gears, as did all the people who resided in the various cities across the massive clock: Elevetia, Twelston, and all the rest were filled to the brim with various different shapes and sizes of geared occupants.
     
    I see that some further information is required. There are four different ‘brands’ of the people of Clox, and of those are brands they are divided into the standard male/female pairing.
     
    The first brand is the most common, they’re the Copparst: as their name implies they are coated in a brilliant copper sheen all across their bodies. Their faces are, on average, the most dented of the people of Clox and they are second-to-none in terms of being warriors for the Clox kingdoms. Unfortunately their gears are also the most exposed of all the brands, leading to the rather common and unfortunate fate of a jammed gear.
     
    The second brand is the Steelde: Shining a bright silver they are the second most common brand on Clox. While on average shorter than the Bronzst, they are also skilled craftsmen and a highly intelligent people. Steelde’s are also, unfortunately very xenophobic when left to their own devices and tend to cluster around the cities of Sixten and Forson, only occasionally leaving their cities for any other. Only the best materials on Clox are made by Steelde hands.
     
    Next is the Ironen, a proud and strong brand. Whilst they eschewed most major cities on Clox for quite some time they have gradually moved out of their primitive ways and developed into the best farmhands in all the land. The Ironen are a squat and, some would say, ugly race; their features being roughly carved out of the harsh metal that makes up their bodies. However due to decreasing iron levels in the planet, the Ironen are in far shorter supply than either the Steelde or the Copparst. Luckily the Ironen also live the longest, having the most solid coating over their intricate gears.
     
    Lastly are the most mysterious brand: The Quartzot. Very little is known about the Quartzot except that they reside only within the central continent of Clox. Unlike the rest of the brands who tend to stick to the outer cities of Onel, through Twelston; the Quartzot refuse to set foot outside of the central spite of Clox…given that few explorers have returned from this spire, it remains unnamed. However it is said that the Quartzot are summoning a particular city to dine with them when one of the massive bridges swing from the central spire. The Quartzot are also practical jokers and enjoy giving a large celebration, and announcing their plans to bridge to a certain city—and then releasing a special bridge that only stretches halfway to said city. Due to this nature the cities of Twole and Fivate have refused to allow any Quartzot ambassadors within their walls. The Quartzot are also the strangest brand in terms of appearance, it is unknown if they have gears or not, but their outer shell contains no metallic sheen, instead they are almost translucent, with light seeming to shine through their pale white bodies.
     
    And now, with that background information out of the way, let us get on with our story. Where were we?
     
    Ah yes!
     
    Tick, tick, tick
     
    The sound came from everywhere, emanating out from an immense source and echoing into the world; it resounded through streets and up tall towers, it boomed around deep valleys and water-filled ravines.
     
    It was a clock. Or rather, it wasn’t a clock.
     
    You see, those of you reading this think of a clock as a small little (sometimes rounded) object which fits snuggly on a wall or desk, and ticks away quietly in a corner. Essentially it’s a something almost always forgettable.
     
    This wasn’t any of those things. In fact if anything it was a city in the corner of a clock—in fact it was a city on the corner of a clock. The city was called Tenolck and it was a bustling hive of industry, with all sorts of people constantly bustling around doing their assorted tasks; their gears whirring and clicking smoothly as they went about their days.
     
    It was in one of the lesser traveled streets of Tenolck where a young male lay quietly. He was an Ironen by the look of him, the coarse, rusted metal of his form giving him away almost immediately. He lay shading his eyes with one hand, listening carefully to the tick that boomed all around the city. Even his gears were silenced in the face of that incredible sound.
     
    After the last tick had sounded, the young male stood up, his metal form screaming in protest as his gears whirred madly, pushing his body upwards. When at last his body had ceased its remonstration he began to move from the street and into a darkened alley, his face firmly facing downwards.
    “You hear that, Crass?” came a mocking voice. Looking up the young male saw a Steelde female leaning up against a wall, her silver joints shining faintly in the darkness and her eyes vaguely beckoning.
    “’course I heard it, Fel” came the mumbled reply from the male called Crass. “ain’t nobody who din’t hear somethin’ like that.” He continued, walking slowly into the shadows where Fel was waiting.
    “Yes, but do you know what it means?” Fel asked, her eyes glinting sharply.
    “Na” Crass replied slowly, gently lowering himself to sit cross legged on the smooth ground.
    “It means that the bridge is going to be extended to Twelston. The Quartzot are coming out of their self-induced seclusion and are willing to make contact with the world again” Fel responded with a smile, her eyes passionate.
    “An’ if s’ajoke?” Crass grunted, not bothering to look upwards. Fel sighed and made a small ‘tsk’ing sound before offering a gleaming arm to the sitting Ironen.
    “How many times have I told you not to blend words like that? You’re a perfectly educated citizen of Tenolck” she said, somewhat harshly.
    “Yes’m” Crass responded dully. Fel shook her head and grasped his hand, slowly heaving him to his feet.
    “Come on, Crass. If we leave today we can catch transport to Twelston. We can be there for the bridge!” Crass’ response was an unintelligible mumble, his eyes cast towards the ground as he spoke.
    “…What?” Fel responded, displaying all the beauty and frustration of a Steelde female.
    Crass mumbled again, refusing to avert his eyes from the smooth plastic street of Tenolck. Luckily Fel’s keen hearing barely managed to catch it this time “N’money”
     
    Fel smiled a gentle smile and stroked the top of Crass’s rough head.
    “Silly Crass, I know you have no money. But you live with me now, and I do!” Crass looked hesitantly into Fel’s silvery eyes, his own dark eyes filled with doubt.
    “You…mean it?” He said slowly, clearly enunciating every word as it came out, moving his mouth oddly in order to get out the unfamiliar sounds. Fel grinned brightly at the smaller Ironen
    “O’course I do!” Crass smiled brightly and wrapped his strong arms around Fel in a tight hug.
     
    It was a few short hours later that Crass and Fel found themselves in the transit station from Tenolck to Twelston…along with just about every other resident of Twelston—and Fel could have sworn there were even a few from Elevetia. The narrow building was crammed with gleaming shades of various different metals and filled with the noise of thousands of gears all whirring at various different speeds. After ten minutes Fel put a hand on Crass’ shoulder and they both left the incredibly crowded building.
     
    It was Crass who suggested that in lieu of attempting to board the transit line, or make any other attempt to get to Twelston, they simply go to the beach instead. Fel became amicable to this after seeing the growing quantities of people who were rapidly moving to every available source of transit to the city of Twelston.
     
    From the central transit center it was but a short jaunt to the water’s edge, its empty whiteness lapping up onto the black plastic shore. On the other side of Tenolck bay they could see the industrial sector of Tenolck, large black plumes of smoke dotting the sky from all the heavy machinery.
     
    Fel lightly took Crass’ hand and together they walked onto the rounded dock which offered a nearly unparalleled view. Looking straight forward Fel could dimly see the large spire that jutted into the sky, the centre of all of Clox and the Quartzot homeland—and just south of that was the enormous bridge: Previously linked to Eighre, it was now slowly being pushed towards the bustling city of Twelston
     
    Fel and crass walked along the rounded dock for some time, simply enjoying the view of the expansive white ocean, and the hazy views of the other cities, all of them divided by the white waves. Fel smiled at the view and lightly patted Crass on the back, he grinned weakly back at her and sat down cross-legged on the hard metal of the dock.
    “Fel, why do you let me live with you?” He murmured quietly. “Ironen aren’t well-liked in this region.” Fel crouched down, her silvery faces mere inches from his own.
    “Because, Crass. You’re like a brother to me.” She sighed softly and sat down completely, her bright eyes fixed to the dark metal beneath her. “I admit, when I first found you I was looking for a skilled laborer, a hired hand. But you’re so much more than that, Crass. You’re family.”
     
    They sat there, comfortably quiet for the space of an hour before a loud blaring sound shook them from their stillness. Jumping to her feet, Fel glanced around warily and saw nothing. Crass also stood, slowly, and walked to the very edge of the rounded pier, laying his thick arms on the guard rail silently. Fel glared around her at the unseen threat, but turned gracefully on her heel and walked to where Crass was leaning.
     
    In the distance they could see the enormous bridge landing at the entrance at Twelson.
    “The alarm must have been because the Quartzot arrived ahead of schedule” Fel said quietly. Crass said nothing in return, his dark eyes peering intently at the large black bridge that stretched from the Quartzot spire to Twelson.
     
    Fel also watched interestedly as a dim procession of lights made their way onto the bridge. Then, with a sudden movement the bridge swung directly in front of her and Crass, the wind from its arrival blowing over them powerfully and kicking up waves. Squinting her eyes Fel could see that the bridge to Twelson was in fact the half bridge, and the procession from Twelson (including, she assumed, the ambassador from Quartzot) were splashing around in the water. Luckily the Quartzot joke was an old one, and water rescuers were standing by. Even Fel was aware of that.
     
    Then it boomed out again, that incredible cacophony of sound.
     
    Tick, tick, tick.
     
    Crass paused and looked up at the sky, his previously blank expression dissolving into laughter, the metal of his face crinkling as he laughed merrily. Fel watched him and laughed herself, not knowing why.
     
    At last Crass’ mirth had faded away, leaving his gears sputtering slightly and his metal warped only the tiniest bit around his mouth. Fel, experiencing similar effects simply sat next to him and breathlessly asked.
    “What was so funny?” Crass looked ready to laugh again as she spoke
    “It’s an old Iron’n joke, I ne’r thought it wa’ true.” He said, slipping into his old speech pattern. Fel gazed at him intently through hooded eyes
    “What was the joke?” He paused and thought a moment before looking skyward again.
    “That sound, it ain’t letting us know they’re ready to bridge a new city.” He said slowly, carefully picking his words and speaking properly. “It’s their laughter. They’re laughin’ at us. Isn’t it hilarious?”
     
    Fel paused a moment and allowed this to sink in, the Quartzot were not some mysterious force who would occasionally allow other cities to access their promised land. They were a bunch of practical jokers who had managed to present the veneer of sophistication to the rest of the world.
     
    She had to admit, it was pretty funny.
     
    With their energy spent Fel and Crass slowly picked themselves up and walked home in the darkness, laughing the whole way, as the Quartzot had laughed at them.
     
    Word Count: 2,272
     
  15. Janus

    The Joy Of Painkillers

    By Janus,

    (19)
     
    Late. I know.
     
    My plan was actually to have this when I woke up this morning, y'know, a little early morning writing.
     
    There was one flaw in that little plan--I didn't wake up this morning.
     
    AND SO HERE IT IS.
     
    With luck I will have another up tonight, because I try not to suck.
     
    This is based on a true story, and yes, it was revolting.
     
    Word count: 819
     
    Enjoy! (I sure did, eventually)
     

     

    The Joy of Painkillers 
    Grey clouds rolled in... turning the previously blue sky overcast. I frowned but remained outside, safely under the cover of the large fabric awning above me.
     
    In my right cheek there was still a pulsing pain, one that had almost driven met to tears less than ten minutes ago...but now I held what I hoped was my temporary cure.
     
    I glanced back inside the dentist's office, waving curtly as I began to walk around the shopping complex--I didn't exactly want to stand outside their door the whole time. I mean, how dumb would that look?
     
    And so I set off, walking without any real purpose. It had been years...and I do mean years, since I had set foot anywhere near here. Unfortunately for me, though the outer shell had barely changed, the innards of everything was completely different. It was a bit of a shock returning to a place of my childhood and finding--well, no childhood remaining.
     
    All the while I was walking I could still feel the packages rustling around in my pocket. The dentist had given me four of the things, along with some prescriptions... I had hoped I wouldn't have to use them, but my tooth...or rather, my gum had decided otherwise. I felt the pain emanate from my cheek, felt the swollen gum pulse and spasm and though it stung I allowed myself to ride it through. Then, as soon as it was complete I immediately drew out my cell phone and called my ride--I had to wait about 35 minutes for pickup.
     
    Oh the smile I had on my face. If smiles were upside down, and involved glaring...and looked more like you were angry.
     
    And so my hopes were dashed, my hopes that I would be able to eat a lovely lunch with my delightful painkillers--that way I would avoid that disgusting little "Vitamin" taste, the one that clings to the back of your throat.
     
    However I had come to a point where I could no longer make that allowance. I needed pain relief before I tore out my tooth manually.
     
    With cold and clumsy fingers I reached for one of the packets, small and square and coloured in blue. The plastic rattled as I removed it from my pocket, and continued to crackle as I hastily tore it open. Inside were two blue capsules, oblong shapes with "ADVIL" stamped into the side.
     
    They looked like a bizarre form of candy.
     
    Following the instructions listed on the back I popped one into my mouth--and then my brain simply ceased working. I do not know what it was that compelled me to do this, friends, I do not know.
     
    You see, somehow as soon as the capsule entered my mouth I chomped down. I guess I was hungrier than I thought.
     
    The response was instantaneous: After an almost audible crack, the most vile fluid I have ever tasted flowed out across my mouth, coating my tongue and the inside of my mouth in a disgusting viscous film.
     
    The taste was...indescribable. It was a cross between a large amount of pepper, and some unknowable thing. It was spicy and pungent, it was the most disgusting thing I have ever had the misfortune to taste.
     
    I coughed once, twice, three times. Tears sprang to my eyes and my stomach churned as that vile liquid coated my mouth. All thoughts of walking around fled and I quickly made myself back to the dentist's office, getting there as quick as possible in order to prevent myself from losing the control I had over my churning stomach.
     
    Of course, as is the way with the world, as soon as I entered the dentist's office both of the two[/i] secretaries were busy with other people...just chatting. I didn't particularly feel like interrupting them, however and so I sat quietly in the corner with that sickening fluid burning my mouth.
     
    Then I felt it, some sort of growth on my upper gum, it was semi-solid and stuck to my gums. I panicked. I knew that taking vitamins or painkillers or various other things the wrong way could cause problems, but swelling of this magnitude in one place? It seemed wrong.
     
    And so it was. I prodded it with my tongue curiously and found not engorged flesh, but the slowly melting remains of my painkiller, stuck like glue to my mouth. I almost laughed.
     
    And that's when it occurred to me that I could no longer feel the blossoms of pain that came from my tooth. Though it was the most sickening experience I'd ever had...though I had taken it wrong, though I'd had to suffer through a taste more horrible than I care to remember: It. Had. Worked.
     
    I sat back in my seat, still tasting the vile fluid in my mouth and no longer caring. My tooth no longer hurt.
     
    Bliss.
     
  16. Janus

    Ruby Gloom

    By Janus,

    Okay, so my schedule sucks. A lot. I doubt I will ever be able to actually commit to it.
    yeah, I have issues with commitment.
     
    But nevertheless, I am here again, and will HOPEFULLY hit every update this week (Hah, fat chance, Janman)
     
    ANYWAY

    RUBY GLOOM
     
     
    I love this show, I don't care if it's for kids, I adore it in every way that is humanly possible. I love it the way a man is supposed to love a children's TV show--exhuberantly.
     
    For those of you not in the know, Ruby Gloom is a children's TV show made by the Canadian-based Nelvana.inc company(which in turn is owned by CORUS entertainment) which dreals with the title character, Ruby Gloom, the Happiest girl in the world (Seriously, I want to be this happy, she's awesome)
     
    Ah heck, to make it easier I'll steal a synopsis:
    In a Victorian mansion on the outskirts of Gloomsville lives Ruby Gloom and her off-beat circle of friends. Some kids might be afraid of the dark, the eccentric neighbours and the unknown things that dwell in the closet. But Ruby is different – she befriends these strange and sometimes scary creatures. In fact Ruby finds them all delightful. She pays no attention to their unusual appearances, perceptive only to their hearts and souls. Ruby is the happiest girl in the world, always trying to be cheerful in the face of gloom! Ruby's perfect day is a gloomy one, full of creativity and adventure with her offbeat circle of friends. Ruby Gloom is an ironic comedy with an emphasis on the importance of friendship.
     
     
     
    I first stumbled across this strange and hilarious show whilst killing an hour before work. Flipping around the channels I caught it about halfway through and was amazed at the way they turned predictable cliche's into unpredictable--and comedic situations. There were also many references that it was quite obvious were not put there for kids, one of my favourites being from Poe: "If the button fits, you must acquit."
     
    Hearing that from a kid's TV show made me burst out laughing--and even the ending credits had their own quirky charm.
     
    Dissapointed in not knowing the name of this show, I did some research and of course found out that the incredibly adorable masthead character shared her name with the show, and thus my love was born.
     
    But enough about that, let's the dramatis personae in this wonderful and quirky saga.

     
    Friends
     


     
    As I said before, this is the series' adorable masthead figure(ine?) and also the self-described Happiest Girl in the world. Her catchphrase (which isn't used to an infuriating degree!) is "Always look on the bright side, unless the dark side is your bright side--and that's okay too!"
     
    I love this girl, she rocks <3
     
     
     
     


     
    Okay, first off: If your heart does not melt hearing the name "Doom kitty" You are dead to me. Seriously, get out of this blog.
     
    ANYHOW, Doom Kitty is a ridiculously intelligent and just plain cute cat (or rather, kitty.) Unfortunately, being not magical she cannot talk! (YAY) and thus must speak in awesomely adorable (The words "Cute" and "adorable" are going to be used a lot in this entry. Deal with it.) pantomime.
     
    Unfortunately, most people can't understand this either and Doom Kitty is left on her own until Ruby pieces together what exactly it is that she wants. <3 you, Doom Kitty.
     
     
     


     
    Boo Boo is a ghost who has utterly failed in every way inhumanly possible. Imagine he was one of the Ghostly Trio from Casper---except that he couldn't scare anyone, ever, period.
     
    See, he was invisible until he made his first scare--unfortunately he couldn't scare anyone! So he accidentally got covered in flour and scared...well, Scaredy Bat. The most easily frightened thing that has ever lived. Thus Boo dedicated his life to scaring Scaredy as many times as is ghostly possible.
     
    He kinda fails at everything else anyhow. So good on you, Boo Boo.
     
     
     


     
    Scaredy Bat is in a rather parasetic relationship with Boo Boo. Boo Boo terrifies Scaredy, Scaredy gets scared, Boo Boo enjoys said fright and continues the process as many times as he can in a day.
     
    My favourite moment between the two was in the first episode I ever saw, wherein they confiscated Boo Boo's notebook on what he'd been doing. It was as follows:
    10:00 - Scared Scaredy in the bathroom
    10:05 - Scared Scaredy in the Shower
    10:07 - Scared Scaredy in the bathroom mirror
    10:10 - Scared Scaredy in the bathroom again
     
    And so on. It made me giggle.
     
     
     

     

     
    Frank and Len are brothers--brothers in the same body, obviously, but brother's nonetheless. Frank is the smarter of the two--or is it Len? Nah, I think Len's the 'hipper' of the two.
     
    Anyhow, these two brothers make up their own band, and in one episode put on a rock-opera--which wasn't really a rock-opera, but I digress. Frank and Len are some pretty funny characters, and little things like the way their clothes are always different from one another are pretty cool.
     
    Also, Len looks like he's needs more sleep. Desperately
     
     
     



     
    Iris is an interesting character. Hyper as all get-out and an absolute daredevil she'll do anything she can to get an adrenaline rush. This includes jumping on a trampoline on a high branch of a tree. Then grabbing an even higher branch and spinning around it madly.
     
    Of course this means that Ruby occasionally has to bail her out, so she doesn't, y'know, die.
     
    She's kinda crazy, really. But in a good way.
     
     
     


     
    Poe is an intellectual who likes to think he's better than everyone else in the mansion. Naturally he's often smacked down and told (read: forced) to be polite. Ruby also discovers his secret, and sensitive side in one episode--his response?
    "Tell anyone and I'll deny everything"
     
    He also has two brothers, Edgar and Allen.
     
     
     



     
    Yes, Mr. Buns looks both cute and creepy, yes it is possible. That's also his general character--Mr. Buns was made by Ruby out of old socks in a very involved procedure that involved a blowtorch, a hammer, scissors, glue gun, and I don't even know what else. He's also apparently alive--HE STOLE HER BUNS.
     
    Ruby Loves Mr. Buns, though I'm unsure if this is because he's controlling her brain, really, he's kinda spooky at times. I love him though <3
     
     
     


     
    Skullboy is awesome, I'm also fairly sure he and Ruby have a crush on each other. Everyone repeat after me.
     
    D'awwwwwww!
     
    Wonderful. Anyhow, Skullboy is a jack of a all trades, and is always trying to do something new, from private investigator to mad scientist to...well, I don't really know.
     
    But I do know he made himself a robot dad!
     
    Man, that was a weird episode.
     
     
     


     
    Misery is my favourite character ever. Ever. EVER.
     
    She's aptly named, everything bad in the world happens to her, consistantly. In fact I believe she was once struck by lightning twice.
     
    She has a song written about her by Frank and Len, a freaking awesome song (As if there was any doubt) But the best thing? Even though she looks miserable, and even though all of this bad stuff always happens to her she doesn't let it get to her, she's actually quite happy. If anything bad happens to her she just gives off a resigned "Ow" and keeps trudging on.
     
    <3 Misery <3
     
    Go check it yourself
     
     
    Coming Soon: BIONICLE: Judgement (2003-2005)
    On Shivaree
    BIONICLE: Judgement (2006)
    Triad: Gundam SEED Destiny AU
    Apocalyptica
    BIONICLE: Judgement (2007)
  17. Janus

    Four Minutes To Live

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! 2.0 (7) 
    Sleep happens now.
     
    Wordcount: 897
     
    Enjoy. Sleep.
     

     

    Four minutes to live 
    Four minutes and counting. That’s what they said.
     
    I’m scared…less scared than I expected, but still frightened enough that I’m unable to quell the nervous sweat that’s creeping to my skin. Nor am I able to take control over my breathing which has become more and more erratic as the seconds pass.
     
    Four minutes and counting. Four minutes to live.
     
    I can hear them all abandoning the room; the heavy thumps of their boots as they clomp down the hallways. I can even hear the them shouting to each other, panicked shouts—they’re just as terrified as I am.
     
    But somehow I’m not as terrified as I should be. In mere minutes I’ll be dead…in mere minutes this entire facility will be nothing but ruins, and here I am. Bound to a chair and locked in a room. There’s no lights, no heat, no nothing….yet somehow I’m not afraid.
     
    I suppose it could just be shock. You know, you never expect something like this to happen to you. Certainly it could happen to other people, but never you.
     
    No, never.
     
    Perhaps the brain simply isn’t able to rationally deal with it, and so it retreats into a sense of numbness—leaving me logically aware that I should feel petrified, but unable to feel anything.
     
    Heh, listen to me. I’m dissecting my own imminent death, it sounds crazy.
     
    The hallways outside are silent now. I can’t hear any more footfalls coming from them, and the cacophonous shouting has ceased as well. I’m alone now.
     
    The fear has almost left now…but I’m not numb anymore, some vague sense of emotion is trickling into my body. Anger, that’s it. I’m angry about being trapped here in this room, angry at the darkness that pervades this room, and the sense of fury I have at the men who’ve left my here to die? Well, there are no words to describe it.
     
    Still, somewhere in the back of my mind my imagination is running wild.
    “What’s going to happen to me?” It asks, running through a variety of scenarios rapidly, attempting to determine which one will be the one that gets me.
     
    It could be a bomb, I suppose. One planted in the facility—that’d make sense. Perhaps it’s even in the room around me. A localized blast would be the most effective thing for eradicating me. Then again these men are soldiers…they could have called in an air strike—that’d explain them scrambling to escape the facility as quickly as possible.
     
    Of course it could also be a poisonous gas, but if that was the case then I’d imagine that they’d have put me next to a vent—just to ensure I actually perished.
     
    I don’t even know how much time I have left anymore. And what am I spending my last precious few minutes doing? Trying to figure out how they’re going to end! I’d laugh if I could, as it is all I can do is feel the building rage within me. How dare they do this to me!
     
    I hear some sort of hiss in the room, vaguely serpentine in nature—please tell me they didn’t put some sort of live snake in here—something that’ll slink and lurk all about by body before finally piercing me with its fangs….I shudder just thinking about it.
     
    I can vaguely make out some sort of nozzle emerging from the wall. Somehow I’m able to see clearer now, the previously impenetrable darkness giving way to a dim foggy sort of light.
     
    The nozzle must be some sort of poison distributor. I imagine that any time now I’ll be inhaling the toxins and then it’ll be a short period of pain and a long period of dead.
     
    Wait, the anger is back now. They tied me up….they kidnapped me and threw me in here and tied me up!
     
    There’s a snap, a resounding crack; I can feel that the ropes holding me have snapped, from there it’s a simple enough process to take the chair I was previously sitting in and demolish the door.
     
    Light floods into the previously dark room, causing me to wince and cover my eyes, but I need to press onwards. I take a heavy step, my anger fueling me as I stomp down the hallway, I need to get out of here.
     
    I hear voices, soldiers are all around me. They’re yelling in some foreign tongue that I don’t understand. They raise their guns, aim, and fire.
     
    As soon as I saw the guns raise I knew there was no way to dodge, no way to do anything but sit there and be ventilated by the many bullets that will undoubtedly be coming my way.
     
    But wait. The soldiers are looking confused…fearful? I’m waiting for them to fire but they seem reluctant to…but if they didn’t fire then where is all that acrid smoke coming from?
     
    I look downwards, the floor is littered with bullets—and while my shirt has been quite ventilated, I somehow remain unharmed. I hear one of the soldiers scream out, I can’t understand anything he says except
    “Experiment!”
     
    So, I was an experiment to them, was I? I smile, it seems that their experiment failed…but I can live with being invulnerable.
     
    Now, how long was it they gave me to live? Four minutes?
     
    You know what they say, turnabout is fair play.
     
  18. Janus

    Pronouns

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! (11) 
    Okay, yeah. I was late. I know.
     
    Truth be told I was crazy-mega-ultra busy and tired on Friday, super busy and exhausted on Saturday, and even crazy busy and tired today. But such is my commitment to you lunatics that I have completed my requisite torture.
     
    I will say that this is, by far, the cruelest challenge that someone can ever assign any author ever. So I gotta give mad props to the Admiral for forcing me to really challenge myself. Thanks dude.
     
    I will also admit that I totally cut it short and only did 1,000 words because, quite frankly, nobody would read 4,000 words of ramble.
     
    That and I would go inredeemably insane after completing it.
     
    a full list of banned words is contained immediately following the cut.
     
    Enjoy!
     
     

    Pronouns 
    All, another, any, anyone, anything, both, each, each other, either, everybody, everyone, everything, few, he, her, hers, herself, him, himself, his, I, it, its, itself, little, many, me, mine, more, most, much, myself, neither, no one, nobody, none, nothing, one, one another, other, others, ours ourselves, several, she, some, somebody, someone, something, that, theirs, them, themselves, there, they, this, those, us, we, what, whatever, which, whichever, who, whoever, whom, whomever, whose, you, yours yourself, yourselves.
     
    Well here is an attempt at completing an incredibly difficult challenge. The author has been challenged to write a 4,000 word Essay containing absolutely no pronouns, and seeing assaid author is insane, the individual in question was left with no choice but to comply. However two immediate problems were raised by in regards to the challenge, the first was the incredibly unexpected stream of appointments, work, and an assortment of various distracting factors. In addition to the above, please take into account the author’s severe exhaustion, leading to the incredibly large delay of the piece’s completion.
     
    The second immediate problem was quite simply, the author had no idea as to the true definition of a pronoun. A limited solution was found by searching Dictionary.com, however the author still has only a limited understanding on the subject, meaning said author expects the piece will receive a large amount of editing via the friends of the above-mentioned author.
     
    However under the two of the above mentioned immediate problems lays a tertiary, less pressing problem, but a problem no less important. With the business problem temporarily solved (The author will have a far higher abundance of time today), and the pronoun quandary being somewhat dealt with, the author finds the dreaded task of groping around in the dark for a subject able to be written about
     
    In fact, the author just attempted to write a story-within-a-story and found the task was nearly impossible, and the author almost immediately interjected with a personal pronoun. The author would like to curse said lack of pronouns incredibly heartily. The author would also like to say, as a writer, the author finds the inability to refer to the author in first person very difficult. In fact the author’s head is nodding like a bizarre sort of crazed bobble head, in order to show the depths the author agrees with the statement above.
     
    The author is quite certain, quite certain indeed, the piece will only draw a small percentage of people, and even fewer will, in fact read the story…except of course the sadistic individual assigning the cruel challenge to the author in question, however, said author has determined said individual’s humanity is lacking at best, and will therefore instead refer to the cruel person as Mandrew.
     
    Ah, the author appears to have discovered an alternative way to refer to the person writing the story. In fact the author’s name appears to be Robert, and as Robert is not a pronoun, Robert is staying within the firmly established guidelines of the challenge. Robert is crazy pleased.
     
    Robert, Robert, Robert, Robert, Robert.
     
    Hah.
     
    Now then, Robert is still struggling with coming up with an interesting enough subject, a subject interesting enough to please the cruel and sadistic mind of the evil and villainous Mandrew. However Robert doubts the existence of such a thing. Additionally Robert would like to point out Robert just went through the above page for editing and was immediately assailed with minimum three pronouns. Robert is crazy displeased.
     
    The author would also like to note: as of the above paragraph the story contains only 485.. The author imagines the individuals reading said story are just as disappointed in the fact mentioned above, as the author is. Robert would like to say to these individuals, please don’t cry, simply stop reading. Perhaps eventually Robert can stop writing also.
     
    Robert is frowning now, in fact, Robert looks insanely displeased. Apparently Robert is very upset due to the fact the essay still has not found a sort of purpose. Robert will now attempt to actually make the large sum of these disparate words have meaning. Robert would also like to add: Robert will eternally curse Mandrew’s name.
     
    Robert would also add: upon further research and editing, Robert found roughly 20 pronouns. Robert would like to point out the teeth contained in the skull belonging to Robert, are grinding so badly said teeth are expected to explode shortly in the immediate future. Robert smash.
     
    Robert has just discovered the extent of the challenge assigned to the author under Robert’s authorial duties. Upon discovering said torture, Robert has decided to ‘wuss out.’ The author will complete a story of 1,000 words pronoun-less, however said author is unable to go on for a period of time longer than 1,000 words. Partially due to the immense pain of rambling on like a deranged lunatic happening to own a blog. Partially because the list of the words the author is unable to use numbers in the double digits. Contained in said list are seventy three words the author finds unfit to use (or unable to, rather).
     
    The author discovered beforehand, as a lucky search provided said author with a list of, let’s call said list, ‘prohibited words.’ The author also found, upon a large amount searching and discovery, almost half of these words had been used on at least a single occasion in the rambling, sprawling, horrid thing the readers are currently reading.
     
    Robert is gleeful, having reached the point of 820 words as of the last paragraph. However Robert is also painfully aware 820 words is not 1,000 words, and therefore the punishment Robert is enduring will continue until the point wherein Robert can finally die. Why won’t the story let Robert die?
     
    Robert is beginning to question the sanity belonging to Robert, the fact remains the challenge laid down before the author is, without a question of a doubt, incredibly, incredibly difficult. Robert is even aware the author has resorted to cheating in a variety of places, such as using words over and over and over.
     
    Robert can see the light at the end of the tunnel. The horrible piece of tripe stitched together out of brain tissue and keyboard fragments will come to an end shortly. Then Robert can die happily. Robert is quite certain Robert’s brain will cease to function immediately following the completion of the project, therefore Robert is waiting for said moment, said glorious moment wherein the author’s brain can simply implode and die.
     
    The author is pleased to say: Said moment (originally) happened on the word ‘die’ (however following editing it now falls firmly five words before ‘die’)
     
    How ironic. (Orignal line. Much better with original ending point. Such a shame)
     
    Word count: 1,044 (No, that does not include the expansive list at the beginning)
     
  19. Janus

    Well, Folks.

    By Janus,

    Well folks, I've been quite....untruthful, huh?
     
    I haven't been doing my writing for quite some time...however I've found that's mostly because I just haven't been inspired by the concept of writing, and so until the point that the inspiration returns, FOR SCIENCE will change.
     
    I will no longer do 2,000 words minimum.
     
    I'll do however many I want, be it 10, 15, or 3,000. I'll do it until the story is complete, or until I have a satisfactory chapter break.
     
    I'll be starting this new copy of FOR SCIENCE! on Monday.
     
    See you then!
     
    Sincerely,
     
    -Janus
  21. Janus

    Enough!

    By Janus,

    Okay guys, that's it. It's time to sit down, simmer down, and just CHILL.
     
    I (as in I as a person, rather than I as a Global Moderator) am SICK of the constant bickering and back-and-forth going on all over the forums. Including right here in my own blog.
     
    I FULLY support debates, and enjoy them quite a bit, truth be told. But this isn't debating, there is nothing respectful or even civilized. This is a constant nattering between two groups who refuse to listen to each other.
     
    So stop talking.
     
    That's the answer, guys. I have my opinion, you have your opinion. We are all entitled to our own opinions and should be encouraged to vocalize them, be they positive or negative. Vocalize them in a CIVILIZED manner, though.
     
    Attacking someone for hating something, or for liking it--is frankly immature. Condescending to someone because they don't like something you do/like something you don't is utterly ridiculous.
     
    Basically I'm issuing a call to reason. Use your brains and stop this pathetic conflict. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions.
     
    We can do better than this.
  22. Janus

    Mistika Ii - Phantoka

    By Janus,

    Yes, yes It has been forever since I wrote my Article Mistika I...why do you ask?
     
    Oh, you say I'm due in for another article? Especially as everyone already has the Mistika thus rendering my thoughts null and void?
     
    You also say you're just a voice in my head and I'm talking out loud?
     
    Poop.
     
    Now then. Mistika II - Phantoka
     
    You see, you can't discuss the Mistika without discussing their predecessors--in this case the Phantoka. Just as it's difficult to discuss the Nuva without the Mata, or the Kal without the original character. The first iteration of something will inevitably be compared to the second, third, fourth, etc.
     
    Now in order to clarify, had the Phantoka and Mistika been released seperately, we would not see this--but as they have been clearly divided--well, the comparisons will be made regardless.
     
    AND NOW ON WITH THE SHOW.
     
    When we last left our article the intrepid hero (IE: ME) had just discovered that the Toa Nuva would be re-released in set form. Naturally as I said before most old farts like myself were squeeing in joy.
     
    And then came that other nasty side-effect of joy. Disbelief. Y'see, we've been around long enough--we saw what happened with the Matoran > Inika Transformation--heck, we even knew what happened with the Inika > Mahri transformation. And while the fandom was primarily happy with them, there were those voices of dissent asking "Hey, would a little resemblance hurt?"
     
    And so it was that doubt began to creep into our hopeful mindset. Lost was the vision of the Toa Nuva restored, modified Nuva masks on their faces and new poseability technology giving the Toa Nuva the flexibility we always desired--now we saw visions of Mahri/Inika clones with bizarre masks. (Or at least I did. I know there was a sentiment of doubt that seeped through the fandom as well)
     
    So while most were actively looking forward to the Nuva, the fandom again began to experience dissent, with some people actively nervous about the Nuva--or some simply not caring and not believing that TLC could pull it off (That'd be me folks =B )
     
    And then the first images of the Phantoka came out: What were the reactions?
     
    Near-universally positive from the majority of the Fandom. Most people were genuinely pleased with them--however on my side, the side of the "Old guard" shall we call it, most people were actively displeased. And I was certainly among them. Upon my first viewing of the Phantoka I was quite displeased, and remain so to this day--however saying such a thing is pointless without reasoning. Please allow me.
     
    The Toa Mata to Toa Nuva transformation was something that while not reviled was also something that had the fandom up in arms for a while (Mainly due to those godawful masks). But in the end it was almost universally accepted that the Toa Nuva could easily be recognized as their progenitors and the matter was dropped.
     
    The Phantoka do not have this. They may be wonderful sets full of many interesting pieces but they do not have the most important thing in the minds of people like me. They do not resemble their characters enough.
     
    Let's go over the changes, shall we?
     
    Lewa Nuva
    First and foremost one of my favourite colours has been stricken from the records. Gone is Lewa's wonderful vibrant green--instead he now has Lime all over. Now I do not dislike Lime, in fact I find it a wonderful complimentary colour--but with that much lime and no contrasting or complimenting colour (Just a neutral grey) he ended up looking washed out.
     
    The Mask has clearly changed--but we'll get to that in Mistika IIII - Kanohi
     
    However one needs only look at him to see the difference. Jet engines for a Toa of Air? Most things didn't bother me. In fact the Jet engines whilst confusing are hardly a deal breaker, even his sword (singular) wasn't that upsetting. What was most curious, though, was the absolute change.
     
    Pull out your Lewa Nuva original (If you have him) Thick lower legs and standard arms. Were I to attempt to reproduce this in set form I would say something like Inika Legs for legs and Metru legs as arms--instead we see that this has gone directly inverse. Now he has massively powerful and bulky arms--with skinny (And I do mean skinny) legs. It's simply bizarre.
     
    However one of the interesting things about the Toa Nuva was their armor. The first sets to have such a thing--before the silver influx became nearly unbearable. Naturally this has vanished without a trace.
     
    However I will not deny that the sword is very cool, and even somewhat reminiscent of his original Air Katana. Which is more than can be said about Lewa to Lewa Nuva.
     
    Pohatu Nuva
    We've already heard enough about the Orange/Yellow/Brown debate. It's getting rather old--however I will say that as a member of the Old Guard Pohatu--and Brown, were always my favourite. It was quite a dissapointment to see this colour dissapear.
     
    However unlike Lewa the bright orange does contrast nicely against the grey and thus I have no complaints in that regard.
     
    Again, however, look at the the proportions: Pohatu and Pohatu Nuva both had shorter arms and longer legs (Nuva had thicker legs as well). However they also had an inverse body, meaning slimmer shoulders than the other Toa! Pohatu Phantoka turned that on its head, keeping the thick legs--but then giving him massively lanky arms, and a hugely broad chest with no hips to speak of. How does this guy run?
     
    But once again there is no hint of armor on him. Thus erasing the 'nuva' from the equation (in my eyes, at least)
     
    I will say good on the designers for keeping the claws around in one form or another, though.
     
    (Again, the mask will be hit upon in Mistika IIII - Kanohi)
     
    Kopaka Nuva
    The colours have stayed the same and we all breathe a sigh of relief. However the bizarre inclusion of gunmetal is just a headscratcher. Why why why?
     
    Proportions wise I have little to complain about in regards to Kopaka, he is the best out of all of them in this regard. The wings I won't take into account as this is meant to show what differs them from the Nuva--and frankly you could slap that same pair of wings onto Kopaka Nuva and there'd be a neglible difference. Are they what I would give Kopaka for a means of flight? No, but that's not the point here.
     
    The biggest complaint with Kopaka is oddly enough something that they had some success with both Lewa and Pohatu on. Weapon recognition.
     
    While both Kopaka and Tahu always wielded a sword people could always recognize Kopaka because not only did he have a shield--his sword was different. Especially in nuva form, a dual-bladed STAFF of a blade. It was a glorious weapon.
     
    So how then do Lewa and Pohatu Phantoka end up with weapons resembling their Nuva forms, and Kopaka winds up with a butterknife? I'm sorry, it's a butterknife.
     
    So let us add up the similarities and differences, shall we?
    Lewa
    Similar: Lime green. Sword
    Different: Grey. Proportions.
     
    Well that doesn't sound so bad, now does it? This is of course not factoring in the mask, nor the main sticking point the NON-Old guard have about the Phantoka. More on that later.
     
    Pohatu
    Similar: Claws.
    Different: Grey. Proportions.
     
    I suppose I can offer Pohatu a slight bonus here in that his feet are vaguely reminiscent of Toa Mata feet with attachments. However this still fails to take into account the mask or the main sticking point.
     
    Kopaka
    Similar: White. Proportions.
    Different: Weapon. Grey.
     
    So for the most part they all seem about equal, or at least the similarities seem to be equal to the differences, right?
     
    Not exactly. The simple fact of the matter is that many of those similarities are also common amongst other things. For example Toa Nuju has similar proportions to Kopaka Phantoka (Minus the stubby arms) he's also white and grey, and the mask looks similar to boot!
     
    See the problem the old guard has? These sets have taken heroes that we recognized instantly--even in their first transformation (Minus those uncoloured, unfinished prototypes. Whoo boy) and has made them recognisable as other characters. Now while some may take this as a homage, it's clearly not meant to be.
     
    As for the Non-old guard? The number one complaint from this group is the fact that the Phantoka are basically Inika/Mahri with new masks and weapons. That's it.
     
    BUT hope was yet on the Horizon! We had seen that LEGO was okay at making Villains with the Phantoka Makuta. Perhaps the Toa Mistika would redeem our faith in TLC? Once again we dared to hope...but still looked to the future with skeptical eyes.
     
    Coming soon:
    Mistika III - Mistika
  23. Janus

    Mistika I

    By Janus,

    The Toa Mistika, the latest hot-button issue amongst BIONICLE fans. If you like them you're considered a noob who knows nothing or at best a supporter of the dreaded focus groups, if you don't you're clearly a purist who worships the very ground 2001 stands on.
     
    So, what are my thoughts?
     
    Well, I'm going to be misleading and cruel =D. Y'see, this is Mistika I, the first part of the article which deals with the setup and background for the advent of the Mistika. This will be a multiple part series and worry not, it will eventually get to my thoughts on the Mistika.
     
    To understand my thoughts you need to go waaaay back into 2001 when BIONICLE was just beginning (please hang on before you yell OMG HE'S A PURIST GET HIM). The Strange and mythical Toa were first revealed and frankly...I was not impressed. In fact I was terribly underwhelmed and refused to have anything to do with it. The 'teaser' of Tahu and Vakama did nothing to whet my appetite and I just wanted this expected failure of a line to get on and die just like RoboRiders and Slizer/Throwbots.
     
    But it didn't, in fact it was a few weeks later when a comic book detailing the lush world that these warriors lived in debuted in my very own mailbox. I read it from cover to cover repeatedly and instantly knew that unfortunately, I was hooked.
     
    Gradually the story evolved, bringing in the mysterious Bohrok and even the ungainly BOXOR and EXO-TOA suits (They've always seemed like they should be in capitals. Deal with it) and with it came the promise of change--perhaps the Toa we knew and loved were destined for something greater.
     
    2003 appeared with mixed sentiments. Most of us here on BZP and across the fan spectrum had been eagerly studying the leaked images of the So-called Bohrok/Toa hybrids, with their strange and rather evil looking "Kranohi," could these things possibly be our much beloved Toa, or were they yet another fearsome enemy for them to face?
     
    Well as we all know now, the so-called "Kranohi" turned out to be the powerful Kanohi Nuva, powerful and mysterious artifacts and the transformation of the original Kanohi masks--but more than that, as was rather clear from looking at the new masks (Minus the Kaukau, but it was always kind of an odd duck out) they introduced something new to the BIONICLE mythos (Or at least the plastic) unlike the previous Kanohi they were organic.

    Again fan reactions were mixed, some still stand by the fact that Nuva-ization was the worst thing that could possibly happen, some eventually (and grudgingly) accepted that it was bound to happen, and others loved the changes almost immediately.
     
    I myself was between camps two and three. Upon the advent of the Nuva I proudly announced my disdain for them--minus Kopaka and Gali--and to this date I still regret not picking up a Tahu Nuva.
     
    Like what many perceive the conflict over the Mistika to be, the primary conflict about the Nuva was those masks (some of which I will not deny were godawful). Very few had issue with the characters or their presentation in the storyline--even the basic construction received props in most circles I frequented.
     
    It was just those masks.
     
    Sentiments on the Nuva remain mixed, but the fact remains it was a key part of the BIONICLE franchise, the first transformation of our primary heroes. And I think that's something that's forgotten fairly often--especially here on BZP. Back in those days (Man do I sound old) the Toa Nuva were the only heroes we knew about. The Metru, the Inika, the Mahri, the Hordika. These were concepts we couldn't even begin to grasp because we knew in those days that the Toa Nuva were destined to wake up Mata Nui--how could the story be about anybody else? It would be like Spider-Man comics suddenly passing off a new Spider-Man and telling us to love him instead (Funny story about that...)
     
    Naturally the move away from the 'main Toa' ruffled a lot of feathers, but most were content until it became apparent that the Nuva were to be shunted to the back of the story while more, newer, edgier, cooler heroes were pushed to the forefront (Jeese, am I writing this on Marvel Comics or LEGO?). And then there came that first hint of something wonderful. The word that the Toa Nuva were not only going to return to their place in the story--but that they were to be redesigned and re-released.
     
    Try and imagine the joy that old fogies such as myself felt. Our heroes were not only taking back what we always felt was their rightful place--but additionally they were coming back in plastic! Of course many of us (including myself) were also rather hesitant at accepting this at face level--not only because people can say just about anything on the Internet (By the way, I'm really Bill Gates. Don't tell anyone) but also because we had seen how few similarities were shared by the Matoran > Inika > Mahri transformations.
     
    but hey, a little hope couldn't hurt, right?
  25. Janus

    Enter The Gurlfren

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! (7) 
    Yes, yes. It has taken me far too long to get back into FOR SCIENCE! But the past is past, let's move on with the future, yes?
     
    Good.
     
    Truth be told, I don't actually feel that bad because I still wrote. Those of you who've seen my Streams of Conciousness entry know that, but I also spent most of yesterday writing a 7 page MONSTER of a story--those of you wondering why it's not going on here...well, let's just say it's not exactly BZP appropriate, and only those who know me well enough to know where I lurk and what I like will be allowed to see it. If they even want to.
     
    NINJA EDIT:
     
    I realized upon reflection today that "If they even want to" looks like me being a sobby whiney preteen angsting about how nobody wants to read my stories. NOT EVEN MY FRIENDS MY LIFE IS SO HAAAARD.
     
    That wasn't my intent, I more meant to say that it deals with subject matter that not everyone who knows me wants to read about. Let's just say it's a Slash.
     
    Yes, I've written a slash. I'm unsure if this will attract or repulse fangirls
     
    Regardless, with such a long break I believe it's time for a refresher on the rules of FOR SCIENCE! So here we go.
     
    Every day I will write 2,000 words on any subject of my choice, throughout the week I will collect various suggestions for what I should write about on Friday. Votes will be opened on Thursday in an entry prior to my story and the winner will be the subject of my 4,000 word story on Friday.
     
    We up to speed?
     
    Now, in order to be fair I feel that I should include the two suggestions from days of old (Or a few weeks ago)
     
    bio djinnie: Also, how about a story involving Furbies, Death-rays, and an ancient orginization of ninjas?
     
    Bossman: Write a 4,000 word essay on the topic of your choosing without using a single pronoun.
     
    And now on with the story! (of questionable quality!)
     
    Enjoy!
     

    Enter The Gurlfren 
    “Incoming!” My friend shouted as the red blip lit up my radar screen. Panicking I pressed down hard on the control panel and watched as my Mobile Suit just barely avoided the crimson flash of energy.
    “That was way too close…” I muttered to myself, re-aligning myself to better glimpse the fierce battle going on all around me.
     
    The mission was simple—or was supposed to be. We, as two Zeon soldiers were meant to attack the AEUG’s primary ship, the Argama, as well as an escape shuttle they had. Well, the shuttle had gone down quickly under a barrage of fire from my own Gaza-C class Mobile Suit, and my friend’s own Gaza-C was able to begin intercepting the lone defending suits they sent out, nothing more than some Nemo’s.
     
    Unfortunately now things weren’t going exactly as we had hoped. The ]Argama had defenses superior to what we had expected, and worse yet, they had an Ace Pilot who was piloting the brand new state-of-the-art suit the Rick Dias. Barely dodging another shot I saw my radar light up with even more red blips, indicating more enemies entering the conflict. Just great.
     
    “Cover me” My friend said calmly, his Gaza-C’s verniers lighting up with bright blue flames as he streaked towards the Argama and its rapidly firing cannons. Nodding mutely I selected a Nemo as my target and double-checked my battery charge for my laser cannon. 2 shots remained on this battery—that should be just enough for a Nemo.
     
    Taking careful aim I fired: Once, twice, and….contact! Brilliant red flames burst from the wrecked suit, drifting slowly in the cold vacuum of space before exploding in a flash of light. One target down I selected the next, another Nemo that was using its boosters to great effect, dodging and weaving around and forcing me to be quick with the controls of my own suit.
     
    “We’re running out of time!” My friend shouted as he began to engage the Ace in the Rick Dias, I could see that he was right, my mission timer counting down rapidly in the corner of my viewscreen. We had exactly 1:30 left to scuttle the Argama and her defenses…and that Ace pilot wasn’t making it any easier.
     
    Lost in reverie I was woken rudely as two blasts smashed hard into my Gaza-C, bringing my critical warnings up on screen. I hoped I was going to be able to make it of this situation alive. Taking aim I fired with my replenished laser cannon, piercing the Nemo’s cockpit directly and turning the suit into a flaming ball of wreckage. Giving my radar a cursory glance I discovered that only one hostile suit remained—the Rick Dias.
     
    Firing my verniers I launched myself into the conflict, targeting and firing on the Dias as it weaved about the space fighting fiercely to protect the Argama. I could see that the battle had taken its toll on all of us, the Dias’ reaction time was slower than before, and bright blue sparks of light leapt from its body in multiple place—likewise my friend’s Gaza-C was showing the same signs of damage, and of course I barely needed to look at my critical warnings to know that my own suit was heavily damaged.
    “Look out!” I shouted as a blast from the Dias rocketed towards my friend’s Gaza-C. There was no way he would be able to survive a direct hit like that. Firing madly from my laser cannon I fired my boosters and launched myself towards the Dias. Unfortunately it happened to be firing its own lasers at that time.
     
    “######, I’m dead” I muttered to my friend, watching as my suit floated lifelessly in space, sparks leaping across its shattered body.
    “Yeah, me too” He grunted
    “Again?” I asked, watching as the mission failure screen appeared on my PSP “ZEON IS DISSAPOINTED IN YOU” it read. Great, glad to know.
    “Yeah, may as well. She doesn’t land for another few minutes. Plus customs. We’ve got a bit” he said, glancing at the flight times on the screen above.
    “Sweet” I grinned. “But shouldn’t we move closer over there, so we can actually see her when she lands?” I said, nudging my friend. With a groan he stood up and stretched, his silver PSP catching the light shining down from above.
     
    Grinning I stood up, carefully replacing my own PSP in my pocket and glancing at the screen above. Two more minutes for her flight to land. I couldn’t wait.
    “Oh, she’s going to call when she’s landed” I said offhandedly, taking my usual large strides towards the central area of the airport where everyone was waiting on semi-comfortable padded chairs.
    “That’s good, that way she won’t walk in on us playing Gundam. What a way to welcome her to Vancouver, huh?” He said, laughing.
    “Yeah, and given that she’s not much of a Gundam fan…” my train of thought trailed off. I didn’t think she’d be upset, but I still wasn’t sure.
    “Well, regardless, I’m going to be stealing you at least a bit so we can beat this stupid mission” he said grimly. I laughed at this and continued to walk, finding a pair of unoccupied chairs away from the incredibly cold wind blowing in through the automatic doors.
    “If she has a problem, she can take it out on me” He said with a laugh, seating himself.
    “She can, yes.” I began slowly, powering up my PSP again “But she’ll likely take it out on me. With her fists” My friend merely raised an eyebrow in response, powering up his PSP as well.
    “You go select the mission this time, I’ll use one of my powerful suits” He said, eyes still glued to the opening screen of Gundam Battle Universe
    “Sure.” I murmured, my eyes on my own screen.
     
    It was another five minutes before the call came, just as I was being pelted by the enemy suits (of course), my phone began to vibrate erratically in my pocket. I quickly grabbed it and flipped it open.
    “Hay” I said, watching my suit take many point-blank shots.
    “Hey” she responded, sounding both tired and excited. “We’ve landed and I’m in the line for customs, it’s not that bad of a line, so I should see you soon.”
    “Cool, I can’t wait” I said with a smile. “My friend is here as well, we’re watching for you but in the off chance we don’t see you, you’ll probably recognize us.”
    My friend looked up from his PSP, his Sazabi having destroyed everything on the screen and won the mission.
    “Say hello for me too” He said offhandedly. I nodded and passed along his greeting
    “Say hello back for me!” She said, sounding happy. “I’ll see you in, like, fifteen minutes!”
    “Kay” I responded, then, grinning maliciously said “We’ll be the ones playing on our PSPs”
    “….What?” She sounded slightly confused.
    “To recognize us. All you need to do is look for the two grown men playing PSP”
    “Oh goody” she said, laying on false sarcasm thickly. “See you soon”
    “Definitely. Love you” I said quietly, holding the phone to my ear.
    “Love you too” She murmured, then the line went quiet.
     
    “She’ll be out in about fifteen minutes” I spoke to my friend, dragging his attention away from the upgrades he was doling out.
    “Got it. Fifteen more minutes to play” He said with a boyish grin, I returned his grin and looked to my own upgrade screen.
    “At least.”
     
    It was approximately fifteen minutes (along with multiple wins, and deaths) later that she actually walked through the automatic doors. After my head snapped up from the PSP for the thousandth-and-first time I was finally able to say
    “There she is! For real this time!” completely oblivious to the fact that I was in fact being murdered most viciously by the Marasai swarming all around my poor Gerbera Tetra. My friend (under equal assault from various different aces) looked up as well and we both shared a glance that said “I won’t say we were getting our butts kicked if you won’t” and then turned off our respective games, moving to meet her at the exit of the walkway.
     
    “Hey gurlfren” I said with a grin, hugging her tight.
    “Hey gaifren” she responded, gripping me in an equally tight hug. After a few seconds we broke the hug and she said hello to our mutual friend and we were on our way….for all of ten seconds, before the first of many mock-arguments broke out.
     
    “Aren’t you going to carry my luggage?” She said with mock impatience, indicating her wheeled bag.
    “I thought you were a big enough girl to carry it yourself” I grinned back.
    “Dude, you’re going to be sleeping outside” my friend murmured ahead of me.
     
    After a resolution had been worked out (and by resolution I mean she frowned at me until I took the bag, feeling terribly guilty and horrible) we walked out the automatic doors into the nice chill wind—and of course rain.
    “It’s freezing!” She whispered, shoving her hands in her pockets. I just laughed, clad only in a T-shirt and light jacket (AND PANTS OF COURSE. JEESE). Then again, I was used to the cold weather…she most certainly wasn’t. But being the kind gent I am I naturally offered to warm her hands up, and being the wonderful lady she is, she accepted.
     
    Then she yelled that my hands were freezing—setting off another laughing session from me (with my friend joining in so we could make it in stereo!). Of course her mock-anger was perfectly justified as my hands were indeed blocks of ice—that’s just naturally how they get, I guess.
     
    All mock-fights and freezing cold forgotten (Or mostly forgotten, she was still shivering like a leaf) we loaded ourselves into my friend’s car, where both of them began to berate me on not yet being able to drive.
     
    Of course I reminded them that I could drive, there was just the minor technicality of it being legal driving. This was met with groans and disapproving stares. And then we were off, our adventure in the airport complete it was time to set out onto the open road.
     
    She stared out the window, drinking in the beauty that was the city, and being quite shocked at the amount of snow (“Real snow!”) still left on the roads—luckily by this time it had stopped snowing otherwise the adventure would have been far more ‘interesting’ than it was.
     
    The miles ticked by, and various comments were made by both my friend and my lovely lady. My favourite of which being a passing comment about a large temple:
    “Is that a giant bouncy castle?”
    “…I think it’s a temple”
    “…Does it have a bouncy castle inside of it?”
    I squeezed her hand and smiled, showing how much I adored her. This conversation naturally dovetailed into a discussion about how much better temples would be if they contained bouncy castles, but as it is religious in nature (What with the temples and all) it is hereby stricken from the record.
     
    We drove on, passing various different buildings and landmarks, until my friend said what would spark a great adventure.
    “…Um, can you get us back to your house from here?”
    “…I think so, yeah. Go straight for now” I responded, wracking my brain. I knew how to get back from a certain point but we were well outside that point, time to see if I knew what I was doing.
     
    Ironically it was well inside the area that I knew well that our adventure occurred. Driving up an incline we found ourselves on one side of a two lane highway, with one lane curving away into the darkness. My friend asked which way and I responded (Foolishly)
    “Go straight”.
     
    He did.
     
    We took the curved path and drove in a straight line for some time, finally coming a tiny little spit of land that led to a tinier spit of land in America. We quickly turned around and drove back, ending that little adventure.
     
    Naturally all of this was filled with conversation of the most wonderful sort, and me making googly eyes at my lovely gurlfren, but really, did you need to know that?
     
    I didn’t think so, that’s why I wasted so much time talking about Gundam.
     
    Which, by the way, is way less cool than my Gurlfren.
     
    Yeah, you read that right.
     
    <3
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