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Janus

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  1. Janus

    Please don't be

    By Janus,

    Okay guys and gals, it's time for something that's near and dear to my heart. Especially with all this acceptance stuff goin' on right now. (which I love, trust me)
     
    So I'ma just lay all this out here. Please don't be a Nice Guy.
     
    Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying don't be nice. But a Nice guy is someone who wants to date someone, but is too afraid of asking them out, so they just be friends--all the while secretly wanting said person, and worse yet expecting said person to reciprocate. But worse yet when the person says "no" they don't want to date, a Nice Guy flies into a rage and badmouths their "friend" all the while moaning about how "nice guys finish last" and "girls only want bad boys"
     
    I hate to tell you this, ladies and gents, but being someone's friend isn't like a vidya game. You don't "level up" friend points that you can then cash in for a romantic relationship, and thinking that it does work that way is just kind of offensive to the object of your affections.
     
    This is why things like the "Friendzone" make blood shoot from my eyesockets.
     
    So please don't. Just don't.
  2. 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)
     
  3. Janus

    Quite A Team

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE 2.0 (1) 
    Lame name, I know. It was either that or the overused and terrible "Fire and Ice"
     
    Anyhow, this was spawned by boredom and by the fact that my fight scenes are always attrocious, so I tried this.
     
    It's not really that great, but it's something. It may have been better if I wasn't ill all day.
     
     
    Word Count: 1,169
     
    Enjoy.
     

     

    Quite a Team 
    “This cannot be good”
    The words escaped the warrior’s mouth before he had a chance to stop them. Mentally he ran over the facts in his mind.
     
    Fact one: He was trapped on a lava flow
    Fact two: He was a Toa of ice
    Fact three: Things were about to heat up quite a bit.
     
    The warrior known as Kopaka grunted as his Golden Kanohi Akaku’s telescopic lens shifted and brought into focus the incoming threat.
     
    A warrior near-identical to himself, but clad in crimson and amber was bearing down on his position with immense speed. Riding a spit of volcanic rock atop the crest of a massive wave of Lava, the Toa of fire was closing with speed.
     
    Kopaka stood entirely still, allowing Tahu to close the distance. He had calculated that if he allowed the Toa to make it all the way to his position, then the Toa of fire would have the advantage in this bout. Something Kopaka simply could not accept. The Toa of ice shifted his masks’ long range vision to Tahu’s eyes, angry red coals that eternally burned from behind his own Golden Kanohi Hau. Kopaka wanted to see the look on his face.
     
    With a single elegant motion the Toa of ice had drawn his blade and gently touched the tip to the raging stream of lava all about him. The effect was instantaneous; the quickly flowing molten rock began to harden and cool rapidly as ice overtook the immense heat. Spreading quickly like some infectious disease, the ice crystals made their way up the crested wave that Tahu was riding.
     
    Kopaka got a single glance at the Toa of Fire’s surprised eyes before the red Toa was sent hurtling ungracefully through the air. The Toa of ice grinned, he had ensured that the ice would be enough to hold the lava flow for a brief moment—brief enough to freeze the wave, but allow Tahu to maintain his trajectory—and speed.
     
    The moment passed, the frozen flow began to crack and split as angry rivers of fire began to emerge from underneath it, with a single resounding crack the weakened ice split, the pieces that remained being quickly devoured by the hungry lava. Kopaka ran over the calculations in his head one final time before watching the stream of lava rush towards him with renewed intensity.
     
    He was quite aware that his own spit of land would never hold against such a furious wave of molten rock and so had been running plans in his head while the lava was frozen. As the wave crested and built, rushing towards him, Kopaka leapt from the blackened ground beneath his feet and focusing his elemental energy downwards, created a slick slide of ice that he rode until he reached a large circular area of volcanic rock—roughly ten steps away from the calming lava flow.
     
    No sooner had he landed than a growl met his ear.
    “That wasn’t very nice, Kopaka” the Toa of fire muttered. Flames erupted all about him, their heat intense and the smell acrid. Acting in a moment of instinct Kopaka released his elemental energy in all directions, freezing the massive flames into an enclosure of ice stalagmites.
     
    A sudden crack drew his attention and he whirled to face his opponent…but found no one there. He paused, listening, thinking he heard a footstep he struck blindly, swinging his sword behind him to catch the intruder. Instead he found his blade burrowed deep within the ice. Reluctantly he let go of the hilt, wary of using precious time and effort to struggle with his encased sword.
     
    He didn’t have time to react. Too late he felt the shattered fragments of ice bouncing off his armor, too late he felt the intense heat from the Toa’s elemental energy, and too late he felt the sharp blade of the ruby hued blade pressing into his side.
     
    “Match.” Kopaka spoke simply. Raising his hands in a gesture of defeat he turned to face the crimson Toa and found himself looking directly into Tahu’s eyes. He seemed to be smiling.
    “You’ve taught me well, Kopaka” Tahu said, putting his hand on the Toa of ice’s shoulder.
    “You’ve been an excellent student, Tahu” Kopaka said with a small smile, then he retrieved his blade with a mighty heave.
    “And now I am to be the student”
     
    He had hardly spoken before he felt the first impact. Tahu’s fire sword slashing downwards upon his upraised shield—he had reacted instinctively.
     
    Pushing forwards to knock the Toa of fire off balance, Kopaka swung his own blade in a downwards arc, watching carefully as Tahu’s Kanohi Hau automatically activated and prevented the blade’s descent.
     
    Reacting quickly Kopaka drew back for another strike and, tracking Tahu’s eyes, found his attention completely focused on the blade.
    “Perfect” Kopaka murmured to himself, and with a torque of his body he thrust his shield into the side of Tahu’s head, knocking the Toa to the ground.
     
    Flames sprung to life around the fallen Toa, preventing Kopaka from accessing him further, but rather than calculate and wait he instead activated his own Kanohi Akaku, tracking Tahu’s form through the burning flames and thick smoke. Satisified he hurtled his shield through the fire, watching it strike the Toa in his midsection, doubling him over. Then the Toa of ice launched himself through the flames and into a second ring of fire, his blade arcing downwards.
     
    Sparks of metal flew as Tahu’s own fire sword parried the strike, though down the Toa of fire was not yet out. Tahu launched a vicious kick at Kopaka’s own midsection, but the Toa of ice nimbly sidestepped it, nearly tripping over his own shield in the process. Mind working rapidly, Kopaka kicked the shield towards Tahu, watching as the barrier field of the Hau was activated. In the split seconds that his shield attempted to penetrate the protective barrier of the shield, Kopaka focused his elemental energy around him, freezing the roaring flames as he had before.
     
    Tahu grunted
    “The same trick won’t work twice, Kopaka!” he said, the barrier fading as the Toa of fire launched himself forward in attack. Kopaka remained focused on the ice around him, his sword raised to parry, but his eyes closed in concentration.
     
    All at once the ring of ice split into thousands of fragments that hurtled towards the Toa of fire, unable to have forseen such an attack the barrier sputtered to life too late, already hundreds of razor sharp crystals had struck the Toa of fire and brought him to his knees, his chin resting lightly upon the tip of Kopaka’s blade.
     
    “Good match” Tahu said breathlessly raising his sword in salute of the Toa of ice.
    Kopaka simply smiled and helped the Toa of fire to his feet, reflecting on the irony of the two most diametrically opposed Toa secretly teaching each other.
     
    Then again, he thought with a smile, Fire and Ice together made quite a team.
     
     
  4. Janus

    Rain-soaked Tile

    By Janus,

    It's been a pretty good day today. I finally finished my first ever (and absolutely terrible) Gundam SEED 1/144 High Grade Model. The Calamity Gundam, piloted by Orga Sabnak.
     
    (Seriously, I went to a course on Gunpla* modeling, and they already explained that everything I did on this model is so wrong. Luckily my next models, the CGUE type DEEP arms, the Forbidden Gundam, the Destiny Gundam, The Dreadnought** Gundam, the Destiny Gundam***, and the Strike Noir Gundam will be far, far better with all the info I'm learning)
     
    After finishing that model I crashed for a bit at my sisters, and then went off to Metrotown (A popular BC mall. Way too popular, mind you) Skip ahead a bit, I picked up the first Invader Zim DVD for my mom, and finally designed the layout of her present. It's going to be a scavenger hunt with her present at the very end. It all went swimmingly. In fact it went so well, that I feel I needed to get some writing out, so here it is, the first Janus story that has been public in quite some time.
     
    Rain-Soaked Tile
     
    "Could you pick up some eggs while you're out?"
    My sister asked, her voice carrying just above the satisfied giggles of her young child. With a grin I responded that I could and promptly left, the door swinging shut behind me and settling in with a satisfied click. With a slow and steady movement I pulled my heavy coat over my shoulders and pressed the 'play' button on my PSP, instaneously my mind was filled with the soothing sounds of Pachabel's Canon in D minor Smiling I set on my way down the long hallway.
     
    The elevator slid open with a slight hiss, dingy and badly lit it trembled slightly as I stepped inside and made my floor selection. With a jerk it dropped, rattling and shaking all the way, my stomach churned but remained steady, finallly with a last shake the doors slid open and stepped out on the ground floor, the grey sky and dreary weather plainly in sight. With a small sigh I heaved the door open and stepped out into a blast of wind and rain. With a glance skywards I wished I had brought an umbrella from home--unfortunately home was many miles away, and across a bridge. Oh well, C'est La Vie.
     
    I noted with some chagrin that the music had shifted from Pachabel to a more fitting and morose tune, the single working headphone on my machine streaming out tales of woe. Slightly perturbed at this change in background noise I shifted my eyes downards, watching as the rain pitter-pattered off the soaking wet pavement. What a great day to be outside, huh?
     
    The cars and traffic whirled by, their lights gleaming crimson and gold through the mist of the rain, there were very few people on the sidewalk with me--few enough that I felt I could indulge myself in a hidden pleasure, with a small, reserved smile I opened my mouth and began to sing along with Satori Negishi to a personal favourite of mine Hoshi No Tobira of Gundam SEED Destiny: Stargazer fame. A few more tracks, more rain, a constant deluge of the stuff just pouring down. More songs, more singing and then people started showing up, slowly at first, as is always the case but soon they were filling the sidewalks. I sighed, of course I knew it would happen but nevertheless the dreamer never wants to be woken when the dream is satisfying.
     
    Finally I arrived at the skytrain station, a monument of bricks and simple technology, guided by remote computers and a team of highly trained professionals in a tower far from the remote station I was boarding at. Nervously I felt in my pocket for my sister's buspass, satisfied it was still in my pocket where I had left I ascended the rough stone staircase and waited on the platform, happily breathing in the fresh, wet air.
     
    In a flash of motion and colour the skytrain arrived, touting the location to which I wished to travel. Seeing the crowded exterior I took my favourite position near the sliding doors and leaned against the transparent plastic 'window' which divided those sitting from those who, like me, chose to stand instead. The trademark tones came over the speaker and with a sudden lurch we were off.
     
    Stations flew by, people flew by, places flew by. People I didn't know, places I knew but didn't care about, places I did know and did care about, people I thought I knew, and stations that I vaguely remembered in the recesses of my mind. Every time the doors slid open with their serpentine hiss I became so aware of the vibrancy and life within everything, from the cold white metal that composed the many stations, to the faded yellow warning paint on the slick tile, and every time the doors slid shut the thick plastic windows muted everything, turning the bright into the dull. I watched this all with an indescribable feeling.
     
    Finally I was one station before my terminus location; a crackle over the loudspeakers and the computerized female voice informed us of the locale we were pulling into. I closed my eyes and allowed the sounds of the train to wash over me and when I opened them something within me gave a tug.
     
    There was a sight, indescribable, really that in my many years of riding the skyrain I had never seen, and may never see again. The car I was in was near the edge of the station, far from the protective sheet metal that made up the brunt of this paticular stop, no, I was in a place lit only by the natural, grey, light from the sky. Rain-soaked tile split only by two metal poles was all I could see at first, and then--then directly across from me, crossing that Rain-soaked tile, and on the other side of those metal poles, holding up their weak sheets of plastic was another train just like mine.
     
    I'm sure it seems absurd and even a bit silly, but there was a train exactly like mine directly opposite to me, both of our doors were open, there was someone standing in my exact location and it suddenly struck me how amazing it was. I could see them and they could see me, and there was some sort of connection, some primal, human connection. Somehow across that rain-soaked tile I discovered the feeling of...humanity.
     
    I don't know how long we stayed there, the train silently humming as the influx and eflux of passengers continued, I can't imagine it was very long. But after what seemed like an eternity of a second the doors slid shut on both trains. The connection was cut and simultaneously both trains pulled out of the station.
     
    And the rain continued to pour.
     
     
     
     
     
    My apologies on the story, it's a little rough, but it's not really for anything but me. You're simply getting the chance to peer into my head.
     
     
     
    *GUNdam PLAstic models
    ** That's how it's officially spelled, oh Engrish, how I love thee.
    *** This is the coolest Gundam in the world, that is all.
  5. 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.
     
  6. 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)
  7. Janus

    Shyallright

    By Janus,

    (14)
     
    This story hurt my brain. It really seemed like a simple enough idea in theory--but actually putting it into reality? It feels like my brain was out walking in the wrong side of town and got strung up and beaten until at least two vertebrae shattered.
     
    Yes, I am aware that brains do not have vertebrae. FIGURE OF SPEECH.
     
    Word count: 115 (SUPAH SHORT)
     
    Enjoy!
     

     
    Shyallright
     
    Shyallright, thus heer iss atest. Wile et maight luk lyk rendam gybbersh, ets aktully en ettamt tu rite samthin antyrely en a korupt anglysh. Et maight halp tu reed et weth a slyt ecsent.
     
    Ubvyusly et’s naut goang tu b es laung es mye uthar wehrks, semplay bikus these s difikult.
     
    Oh god, my brain. Ow. Oh man it hurts.
     
    Okay that was an attempt to write something entirely in corrupt English. Post your translations and we’ll see if anyone hit it properly.
     
    I like experimenting, I’m crazy, and silly.
     
    Maybe one of these days I’ll write something entirely in slang, or code. I dunno. It was fun in a brain shattering kind of way.
     
  8. Janus

    Signatures

    By Janus,

    Mainly yours.
     
     
    They're very tasty, you know?
     
     
     
    I suggest you follow THE RULES
     
     
     
    Or else I get to eat your sig. <3
     
     
     
    Love,
     
    -Janus
  9. Janus

    Signifying Nothing

    By Janus,

    (10)
     
    First attempt at new title graphic, I dunno if I like it enough yet.
     
    We'll find out.
     
    You'll get part two of Gods another night, tonight I simply wasn't in the mood.
     
    Word count: 167
     
    Enjoy.
     

     

    Signifying Nothing 
    Sound and fury signifying nothing…that’s what this entire entry is about. I would have loved to write the second part of Gods—unfortunately when your mind is pre-occupied with other things it becomes most difficult to write to a satisfactory degree. (Or at least I find it hard to match my standards)
     
    As such I will instead default to my backup—that being this: A bunch of hot air, a bunch of anger that will do nothing and change nothing.
     
    Very little in this world infuriates me more than pointless discrimination—even discrimination is bad enough. However something has happened which I feel shows a clear example of this, and has even set me at the throats of my friends. Something of which I am not proud.
     
    But to be honest, the rage has left my system and now I’m just feeling very, very drained. Exhausted, really.
     
    So I’ll end this early and go to sleep, apologies for wasting your time.
     
    I did say it signified nothing.
     
  10. Janus

    So I Did

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! 2.0 (6) 
    I'm tired.
     
    Very tired.
     
    This is what runs through my head--except this is like, maybe five-to-ten minutes of a dialogue that runs all day long.
     
    Wordcount: 536 (Anyone else notice the shrinking wordcounts? I do!)
     
    Enjoy!
     

     

    So I did 
    A soldier screamed as he fell, clutching his arm where the magic still burned his flesh. All around his comrades were dropping, their primitive blades no match for the small band of mages that had surrounded their leader.
    “Fools!” The archmage hissed, magical energy erupting from his body. “Taste my wrath!”
     
    “Nah” I thought, mentally shelving the idea.
     
    Almost instantaneously the battlefield melted away and I was left with a blank slab of sun scorched rock hanging high above a small winding river. Nearest the edge of the enormous stone was a figure cloaked in shadow, its eyes just barely visible through the darkness of its hood.
    “Why have you come here?” the figure questioned, and my view shifted to a shaded enclosure where a young man stood, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
    “To learn the truth” He muttered grimly.
     
    “Nope” I thought to myself. “Not quite what I’m looking for”
     
    As if it were a rubix cube my brain reassembled pieces of the scene until they resembled something completely different. Now I was in a deep pool, out of the corners of my eyes I could see my arms furiously driving in and out of the water---of course they weren’t my arms, and as my view shifted away I saw a young girl of about 20 pushing herself to her limit as she swam from one end of the large pool to the next. Then I found myself viewing the scene from underwater, large goggles filling my vision.
     
    For a moment I pondered.
    “I do love this feeling” I felt myself thinking “I really love the separation between above water and below. I love the way that line is so thin that all it takes to plunge your head in and it’s something completely different…and I love how peaceful it is under the water.”
     
    Already I could feel pieces clicking into place, replacing and altering themselves. No longer was it a young girl in my minds eye, instead it was an older man with the body of a swimmer. The pool itself melted away, leaving a vast oceanic plain for the man to cut through with his body. But I could feel the weariness though it wasn’t my own, could feel the way his body ached—could even feel the bite of the cold water as it surrounded his body.
     
    His face dipped under the water, revealing sights of beauty untold. Just beneath the surface lay all manner of life—but I could still feel the weariness, and could feel the man slipping further and further. My mind had already written the end to this tale, the man would die surrounded by the beauty of the ocean.
     
    “Nah, too depressing” I found myself thinking.
     
    For once my brain wasn’t able to think of anything further. The scenery of the ocean melted away into absolutely nothing, for the briefest of instants my brain was absolutely silent. Then came the image of me seeing the previous storylines in my head. A bit Meta, but I eventually figured it out
     
    “Oh. I get it. I’ll write about the process I go through to make a story for For Science! 2.0”
     
    So I did.
     
  11. 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
  13. Janus

    Stream Of Conciousness

    By Janus,

    This is verbatim transcription (That means all the spelling mistakes and errors are intact) of writing I did this morning at roughly 4:00 AM after being unable to sleep (And finding that WinAmp Skin I wanted. Until the point that I begun writing I was operating the computer essentially blind, meaning no glasses)
     
     
    Well, this is quite the experiment. I’m writing blind here, literally blind. Eyes closed I’m relying only on mu drndr og youvh snf yhr dounf yo huifr mr.
    Z
    Music is a rhythm, a flow, something that we can follow and be inspired by. That’s what I’m allowing to lead me now. I’m simple alloinw myself to sit here,eyes closed ed and completely in sync with the msuci playing. Heck, I have no ideda how many spelling mistakes I’m making. Likely hundres. But the fact remains that I cannot see what I’m writing and will not see until tomorrow.
     
    And that’s beautiful, isn’t it?
     
    Trying something new, just for the heck of it!
     
    In fact I was trying to sleep before this massive surge of inspiration overcame me: So now here I am, at somewhere near 3:000 in the morning sitting on my computer and typing blind—why? Because I can. Because the world allows me to. Because this is what I choose to do.
     
    Choose, not decide. To actually choose is to hdo it with no reason why. And that’s why I’m doing this. Because I choose to, because I just wanted to do it. And it’s interesting.
     
    Seriously, the senstations one feels typing blind is incredible.
    My blody actually sfells like its changing shape.
     
    But the music stopped now. My guiding force has gone silent and so the moment of inspiration has passed. In fact I already feel the heavy coat of sleep settling over my shoulders, running up and ffown my neck. I can feel the bbuttons seeming to grow smaller and smaller anas my hands grow larger and large, inflating with the gross movements of a tired body.
     
    It’s a strange feeling, in my minds eye I can seee all sorts of things, but then I feel them. My body senses them as though they were true. Now my fingers are inflated and swollen like some sort of strange sausisage, now the keyboard is curved and spherical. Now I’m skinny as a twig with long spindly fingers that can dance over the mite sized keyboard with ease.
     
    I think I’m donw now. The keys have grown large and small, my fingers have shrunk and grown, and my minds eye has swollen and felcated. Everything’s run its natural course and so too is my stream of conciousness coming to an end.
     
    Perhaps I’ll edit this tomorrow. Perhaps not.
    Goodnight everyone,
     
    My love find you and carry you forward.
     
  14. Janus

    Super Metroid

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! (9) 
    This story I'm actually relatively pleased with, it's really not much--in fact it's basically just the intro to Super Metroid (hence the name), but I always loved the intro to Super Metroid with a passion (then again I loved all of Super Metroid with a passion)
     
    The funny thing with this story is it didn't turn out at all like I expected. I had expected to deal with Samus' planetfall and subsequent discovery of a ruined Space Pirate base, I always found that part of the game ridiculously creepy. Instead I ended up enjoying writing about Ceres station far more than I expected.
     
    Maybe this means there's another Super Metroid story down the line somewhere.
     
    Maybe.
     
    Enjoy!
     

    Super Metroid 
    Sirens blared, alerting me to the immense shockwave that was washing over the surface of my ship, buffeting it about like a tiny schooner in the midst of a tidal storm. Remembering my training I made no attempt to control reach the control console, instead remaining in my quarters, tightly gripping an emergency handrail until the shockwave had passed and a relative tranquility came over the tiny vessel.
     
    Letting go of the handrail I floated effortlessly to the hatch that led from my quarters to the corridor and from there into the bridge. Upon reaching the bridge of the ship I checked the various instruments, inspecting temperature, speed, and of course, damage. Strangely enough the ship was seemingly untouched. Whatever had caused that shockwave had to have been moving incredibly rapidly, but whatever it was it hadn’t damaged my ship. That’s all I cared about.
     
    I was about to leave the bridge and go rest in my quarters when the telltale shrill beeping of my communicator filled the silence aboard the ship. I sighed and sat down at the communications console, fitting myself snuggly in-between the control panels that took up most of the space on the bridge. With an idle mind I flicked the switch that activated the communications rig, expecting to find someone wanting expert bounty hunter Samus Aran for whatever reason—instead I found a dropdown screen informing me of an S.O.S. in large blinking letters. Flipping up the navigations console I scanned for any nearby vessels that could have been scuttled, or had their power cut, but the only thing that came up was the research station I had just left. Ceres Station was under attack.
     
    Without a second thought I shifted my seat to the piloting controls, dialing the speed to maximum and sending my ship hurtling through space towards the distant speck that was Ceres Research station. There was no way I was allowing anyone to get away with attacking that station, not when I knew what was on board. Setting my ships navigation safely to autopilot I left the bridge to suit up, I had no intention of walking into a trap unarmed.
     
    The door to my small armory hissed open, revealing my most basic armor suit—had I had more time I would have been able to return to HQ and use one of my many upgraded suits, but as it was all I had on me was the recon variety for an upcoming mission. I sighed
    “Better this than nothing, I suppose.”
     
    I had just finished checking my suits’ diagnostics when my proximity alarm alerted me to the fact that we were on approach to Ceres. It was a few seconds later that I realized my hailing signals weren’t being responded to. This was not a good sign. I took a deep breath and activated my ship’s gravity, using one of the various subsystems routed directly into my suit. In an instant there was a sudden lurching feeling, and then the heavy clang of my armored boots hitting the floor of the armory. I smiled grimly, systems check all green for pressure sensors.
     
    By the time I had reached the bridge again I could see Ceres Station through the view screen, the massive gear shaped oval filling my view with a thousand twinkling lights from its various different ports and windows. Taking hold of the controls I gently steered my ship towards the central hollow, where even from this distance, four massive red lights could be seen flashing brightly. Guiding my ship into this hollow I fired my retro rockets and found a docking port nearest the sector I wanted to go to. Using another subsystem of my suit I interfaced directly with Ceres’ docking computer, feeling the dull reverberations of the heavy docking clamps slamming shut around my ship and drawing me into the station’s plated hull.
     
    Once the station had automatically docked me, I drew up a map onscreen and found that I was just one tier above where I needed to be. I double checked my arm cannon and set my ships’ defenses to their highest level—there was no telling what could be out there. With that done I opened the hatch in the roof of the ship and allowed the platform to carry me from the warm comfort of my own ship into the cold metal vastness that was Ceres.
     
    Almost immediately I was on guard, using my passive scanners and radar to begin searching through my immediate area, and tracking everything with my arm cannon. I stepped off the armored hull of my ship and into a service dock, accessing the blueprints of the station from there I took the nearest service elevator down into the third tier of Ceres Station. While I had been here recently I wanted the blueprints in case anything unexpected happened.
     
    The ride down the service elevator was uneventful, however it did confirm a fear of mine. Upon reaching the bottom of the shaft I found no-one there to greet me. Having just recently left them, and especially considering what I had left in their care, this was unthinkable. Whatever was attacking was after this section specifically.
     
    I entered one of the armored doors, which took me into the oxygenated and comfortable area of Ceres proper and looked around slowly—everything looked exactly as I’d left it. The only difference was that there were no hurried bustling scientists, in fact it was as quiet as a tomb. I picked up my pace and made my way deeper into the station, walking down a flight of stairs and into the ‘experimental research’ department—where I hoped I’d find the scientists huddled, scared, but alive.
     
    Instead I was greeted with the sight of three scientists’ dead, their bodies viciously slashed and bleeding profusely. In the center of the room a large apparatus lay in ruins, with the subject of experimentation being nowhere to be found. I gritted my teeth, it was possible that this was going to get much worse than I expected.
     
    Wishing I could have spared a moment to mourn for the dead, I instead sprinted across the room, entering another heavily armored door and finding myself in a narrow corridor. One described in the blueprints as leading to the storage room—if ever there were a place to find living scientists, it would be the storage room. I only hoped I was right.
     
    I entered the storage area, tracking with my cannon, and found it completely bare of anything, light included…except a large containment unit containing the gift I had left for the scientists on Ceres. The hatchling Metroid from planet SR-388. I breathed a sigh of relief, whatever had attacked the station hadn’t known about the hatchling, and the scientists must have given up their life to get it to safety here. I lowered my cannon and allowed my scanners to fall silent, I already knew there was a life form here, the hatchling in front of me. I took a step towards the containment unit, thinking of various other research stations that would be happy to continue Ceres’ work, but was shocked to hear a voice speaking.
    “Not quite that easy, Samus” came a dark growl. All of a sudden a baleful eye flared above where the canister that held the Metroid was, and using my visor’s heat tracking I was able to make out the hulking form of one of Mother Brain’s generals, the cruel and intelligent Ridley.
     
    “You actually thought you’d won, Hunter?” The massive dragon crowed. “Thought you’d beaten us? That we’d just give up and die?” The enormous claw holding the containment unit squeezed it tightly. “No, Samus. We’re not dead yet!” And with that the massive beast hurled itself into the air, blasting a stream of fire directly towards me.
     
    Acting out of reflex I threw myself to the side, tracking and firing as I did so. Most of my shots simply bounced of the dragon’s black carapace but a single shot struck him in his sensitive beak, causing a shriek of pain to erupt from the creature’s mouth. Then he fixed me with his hate-filled eyes and spoke
    “You’re not worth my time, Bounty Hunter. Now die here with all the rest!” With that he lashed out with his spiked tail, smashing into the metal of the station’s walls and breaking through effortlessly. Then he was gone, with the hatchling.
     
    I cursed, exiting the storage area and intent on catching up with the giant dragon, intent on retrieving the Metroid. Then my suits’ internal warning system came to life and informed me that he had triggered the entire station for overload, essentially causing a self-destruct. Cursing even more I sprinted through the corridor, passing the gargantuan machine where the now-deceased scientists had studied the Metroid hatchling and up the stairs, becoming more and more aware of the blaring klaxons and deteriorating station all around me. Bursts of steam from overworked conduits were shooting out almost everywhere and even the structural integrity of the lab began to crumble. I cursed a third time.
     
    I became acutely aware of just how bad the situation was when I entered the service elevator shaft and found the entire station beginning to tilt haphazardly from one direction to another, the stabilizers that once controlled it seeming have given out. Without thinking I launched myself onto the elevator, all too aware of the timer that was counting down the seconds until the entire station detonated.
     
    With mere minutes left to spare I darted from one end of the airlock to where my ship still remained, luckily Ridley hadn’t seen fit to tamper with it before he left. Lacking the time to interface with Ceres’ docking system I simply fired my ship’s weapons, destroying the docking clamps and freeing my ship to escape from the station’s hull.
     
    The countdown had hit ten seconds remaining when I fired my boosters to their maximum, forcing me back in my seat as my ship shot out of the station’s interior. Seconds later a massive shockwave washed over me, sending the ship into mad spirals as shrapnel and energy washed over it. Being in control this time I managed to steadily guide the ship away from the worst of the concussive force and avoid the deadly shrapnel that was being scattered by the massive explosion.
     
    At last the explosion was over, and while my ship had taken a few blows from the shrapnel, it remained intact. With no time to think of anything else I immediately brought up my scanners and set them to the longest range possible. Ridley was out here somewhere, he’d likely had a ship stashed on Ceres just as I had…so all I had to do was pick up his heat signature and trace his path.
     
    It was a full five minutes before I was far enough out of range of the still smoldering ruins of Ceres and my scanners were able to pick up a rapidly moving heat source. I smiled grimly. Ridley. I had the computer run a course trace on his heat signature while I moved back into the belly of the ship, using the precious few hours I had left before I caught up with the Space Pirate to run various combat simulations. I had faced Ridley before, and it had almost cost me my life, I refused to allow that to happen again.
     
    It was approximately one hour later (and roughly 20 different combat sims) that I was broken out of focus by the rapid beeping of my navcom. It had determined his path, and with luck I could cut him off before he made it there.
     
    I made my way to the bridge, moving slowly as I had to with my power armor on.
    “May as well get used to it” I thought to myself. “After all, you’re going to be in it for quite a bit longer.” It was unlikely that Ridley would go down easily, and even he did, it was doubtful he had acted alone. Had the remnants of the Space Pirates rallied under Ridley’s flag? That was a distinct possibility.
     
    Entering the bridge I checked the navcom results. Unable to believe them I ran a second check myself. The proof was undeniable.
     
    He was going to where it all began. To the place where the Metroid’s had first entered my life.
     
    He was going to Planet Zebes.
     
    And I was going to follow him.
     
     
    Word Count: 2,086
  15. 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
     
     
  16. Janus

    The Adoption is official

    By Janus,

    I am taking the briefest of breaks from Mass Defect (plus there's gonna be some changes coming to it anyhow) to announce that my wife Rebecca (Hahli Husky) and I are very proud to announce the adoption of our second child...Micah! He will be joining us and his older brother Yannick in being officially Canadian and also eating delicious pancakes every day.
     
    THAT'S MY BOY.
  17. Janus

    The Claidi Journals

    By Janus,

    So I believe I'm actually attempting to get myself into some sort of warped and disturbed schedule. As though I was trying to give all two of you who read my blog some sort of regular basis on which you could read my disconnected and generally insane thoughts.
     
    No, I don't know what I'm smoking. Chances are I shouldn't be, though...whatever it is.
     
    So with enough lead-in, let's get right to the point of this entry.
     

    The Claidi Journals 
    Now, let me go on record as saying I cannot believe I just took the time to colour all that. I mean, wow, that's lame. And it looks ugly, I know it looks ugly. Claidi would smack me over the head with her journal. Hard. Ow.
     
    Now for those of you not in the know (AKA: All of you minus Lah) The Claidi Journals are in fact a series of four books--about a girl by the name of Claidi (SHOCKING!) Or possibly Claidi-baa-baa. If you're a brat.
     
    The entire series begins (surprisingly enough) at the beginning, the first book (Which actually could have been the only book. It was that good)
     

    Wolf Tower
     
     
     
    In this book we meet the young Claidi, our heroine and possibly creator, depending on how you look at it. Claidi's story is told, interestingly enough more of an epistulary format, with everything happening just slightly after real-time.
     
    Essentially the entire story is told through a series of messages to herself--hence the name of the entire series The Claidi Journals.

    Now we meet Claidi as a young slave girl--and unlike a lot of slave stories I didn't find myself going "Dude, lame," or even "A slave would be murdered for that," or my personal favourite "This makes no sense." Nay, instead I found myself becoming genuinely interested in the world that Claidi painted before me--a very strict culture wherein RULES and TRADITIONS are ironclad and sacrosanct (They're really, really important).
     
    Naturally, our young heroine manages to escape this prison-of-a-home (Oh come on, do you really want to read the real adventures of a slave girl? "On sunday I washed the mistresses' laundry--on Monday we had a scary experience, someone lost a shoe." I mean, I will be honest, Claidi's slave life is more interesting than most, but had the entire book been like that I would have been driven utterly mad.
     
    Now I'll let you guys in a little bit more than you'll find on the back cover--Claidi's escape is done thanks to a mysterious stranger (Who isn't tall, nor dark--but he is handsome. Two outta three isn't bad) named Nemian. Now allow me a moment to say HATE. But nothing more on that.
     
    Claidi and Nemian escape out into the world away from her harsh upbringing--why, praytell? Because Nemian plans to take her to the place of her birth...the Mysterious and (seriously) far away Wolf Tower.
     
    Aaaand exit stage left.
     
    No, the book doesn't end there, but I'm not going to tell you everything that happens, jeeze!
     
    Suffice to say that I am a seasoned veteran of Fantasy and Sci-fi, I know what I like, and I know what I don't like--and the Claidi Journals (Especially the first and fourth) snared me like a fish on a hook. There's something intriguing and original about them that just keeps you coming. Be ready for plenty of twists though.
     
    Aaaaaaand all the way to the next book
     

    Wolf Star The next book begins with Claidi Spoilering Spoiler, after that Spoiler manages to get Spoiler, and our unlucky heroine is taken to Spoiler to meet Spoiler.
     
    Okay, I had to do that. I absolutely had to, just because I could. I HAVE THE POWER.
     
    Aaaanyhow, the next book in The Claidi Journals begins with our heroine Claidi, fresh from her adventures in the world, and especially with the Wolf Tower....unnnfortunately for her (But lucky for us, so we're not, y'know, bored) she's KIDNAPPED and taken to a mysterious location far above a far off jungle. It's known simply as The Rise.
     
    Now I must interject and say this, The Rise drives me absolutely insane. It is quite possibly the most inane place in the world that seems like it was made simply because someone went "I can do this, whee!" (Which of course it was. Lucky me)--Why do I say this? Why simply because The Rise moves around at random--yes, you heard me right. It moves. A room one ONE side of The Rise could be across the enormous complex overnight.
     
    It would drive me Insane.
     
    Anyhow, at the rise Claidi meets the mysterious (everything is mysterious in these books. EVERYTHING. A flower? MYSTERIOUS.) Prince Venn--who looks disturbingly like somebody she left behind. Of course it's left up to us (as the back cover says) to uncover why Venn and Claidi have been brought to The Rise and what purpose lays for them there.
     
    Well, I won't spoil it, but I'll tell you this. The Wolf Star.
     
    An unnaturally bright star that rises circles the sky and then sets in the same location.
     
    Interested yet?
     
    Too bad, next book.
     

    Wolf Queen
     
    First off, allow me to say: THIS IS TRICKY. Trying to explain all that's transpired in these books without giving away key things from the first is tricky. So here's the deal, stop reading this blog right now, okay? Good, go to www.Amazon.com. Awesome, now search for "The Claidi Journals" got that? good, buy them. Buy them all. DO IT.
     
    And now on with the...talking? Typing? Explaining?
     
    When we last left Claidi she had managed to escape the aggravating and active Rise, and return to her home (No, not the one where she's a slave. She's not that stupid)--unfortunately people lied about her, and now home isn't exactly home again. Leaving on the trail of her fast-moving lover she encouters all sorts of weirdness, such as a talking animal (Doesn't happen much in this story, sorry folks) and a weird town that tends to be either red or pink. <3 pink.
     
    Soon after visiting the town, and being tailed by a MYSTERIOUS (There's today's buzzword, kids) and menacing JELLY (Yeah, I know, it's hard to be menacing with a name like that. Give him credit where it's due.) She's sent packing off to the North, where it always snows (No, it's not Canada. it doesn't do that here. I'm serious.)
     
    In the North she finds something she never expected to find--people who could be her true family, and the respect of a people--but they're also people from a mysterious and supposedly defunct tower, like the Wolf Tower from so long ago.
     
    Like before, I can't explain much about the title of this one, because spoilers freakin' abound. But I'll simply say this. A Wolf Queen who can control the towers is supposed to be born.
     
    Exuent book the third, naturally there's plenty of stuff you're missing, but you need to BUY THE BOOKS.
     

    Wolf Wing
     
    First of all, yes, your mind is not playing tricks on you. That is a FACE MOUNTAIN. Second of all, yes, it creeped me out too. I mean, LOOK AT IT.
     
    Now to begin with, Claidi, our dearest and darling heroine has grown up--nay, she has matured, and is now in fact married. Give her a hand folks!
     
    NOW.
     
    With the applause out of the way, following her wedding, her new hubby and her fancy a trek back to her old crazyslavehome. Luckily a rebellion has occured, so their wedding present isn't forcing her into old rags and making her clean the toilet. (Lucky for her, huh?)
     
    After catching up with some friends of hers, they are sent a communique from someone with power in the Wolf Tower--and we discover that a powerful force has been in existance all this time--perhaps manipulating and controlling Claidi and her friends, altering the way the world works for her own whims.
     
    This woman, Ustareth, as she's named on the cover has incredible power and has managed to amass her own little world...but she asks that our heroine and her entourage visit her.
     
    Now I gotta say, after reading through all the other books, I was scared about what might happen in this one. I mean, even once you get over the FACE MOUNTAIN there's a mysterious woman who's possibly been manipulating them since birth? Hello, creeped out much?
     
    As for this title, I can't say anything on it, there's absolutely nothing that can be said.
     
    Oh yeah, there is this.
     
    BUY THE BOOKS.

    Next up: Why my room is a nightmare
    On The Current state of BIONICLE
    Judgement: The beginning of 2006
  18. 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.
     
  19. Janus

    The Masquerades

    By Janus,

    (15)
     
    I'll be perfectly honestly with all of you. I have no idea what this is, none whatsoever.
     
    I mean, I attempted to add some measure of logic and sense, but my original plan went spiraling madly out of control.
     
    For those of you wondering, my original plans were as follows
     
    A: Family-type story wherein younger brother discovers older brother is in fact part of a rebel faction that has been tearing apart the community in which they live
    B: A poem-type thing about said situation.
     
    I'm not really sure what happened.
     
    Word count: 753
     
    Enjoy!
     

     

    The Masquerades 
    A Half mask was their mark, a harlequin painted strip of fabric—it wasn’t enough to cover their faces entirely, but apparently it was enough to strike fear into people’s hearts. Enough to get them what they wanted.
     
    Who they were was a mystery to everyone, there was no statement, no public address…nothing. One day people simply awoke to find that their world had changed, to find that they were living amongst strangers.
     
    They didn’t have a name, or a purpose seemingly. The fearful public simply referred to them as the Masquerades—perhaps due to the half-mask that they bore, perhaps due to their penchant for striking at crowded theatres. For their part, the gang didn’t seem to care what they were called, so long as they got what they wanted.
     
    Of course that was the mystery…that was the thing that nobody could quite figure out. While it had been hundreds of years since crime of any sort had occurred in the city, they still had records; thousands of files that gave the raison d’etre for many different criminal syndicates. The Masquerades didn’t match any of them.
     
    When offered money they simply sneered and laughed. In fact, none of the many different pleasures of the flesh—which had been the reason for many criminals in the past, seemed to appeal to them a whit. They only thing they seemed to take satisfaction in was the deconstruction of everything.
     
    They had never killed anyone, never hurt a single person—but the destruction they caused was immense…having burned down several theatres in the span of weeks.
     
    Their game plan was simple, really. They would enter the theatre sans mask and split up: From there all but one of them would begin working to siphon each of the theatre goers out of the building while the final member would ignite the building. The most peculiar part was that the Masquerades would not let their captives escape for some time, forcing them to watch the building burn. All the while they would remain silent and simply stare into the flames, half their face hidden by their masks.
     
    It came as no surprise when the police force was resurrected to deal with the threat—what was shocking, however, was when the Masquerades simply showed up at the district, masks and all.
     
    “We’d like to surrender” they said, raising their hands, half their faces still unknowable. The police standing guard outside of the building said nothing.
    “It was an experiment, you see” The Masquerades explained as they came closer to the building. “To see where the social structure broke down. To see when we reverted to the system of enforcers” As they said this, each of them reached up his or her face and removed their mask. Girls and boys, whites and blacks, colours of every shade reached up and pulled the garishly painted strip of fabric from their faces.
     
    Somehow it came as a surprise to everyone to see that these hated and reviled dangers to society, these menaces who hid half their face behind a mask…were not just children, but their children. To see daughters and sons in a line of what was thought to be enemies was a shock to the system of the city as a whole.
     
    And then the Masquerades-no-longer turned to embrace their families, to show them that they were not the monsters that the media had made them to be.
     
    A shot rang out, those who had been spared still shrunk back as though they’d been struck. Then gradually a circle formed around the young man in the centre who’d taken the blow. It was a clean shot, a killing shot. The former Masquerades turned their wrath upon the officer who had fired. No words were spoken, no blows were exchanged. The young officer crumpled to the ground.
     
    “He…he was my brother” he sobbed.
     
    It was later discovered that the young officer had fired simply due to the stress of the situation. It had not been a deliberate aimed shot, simply a misfire due to the overwhelming stress…a misfire that had taken his brother’s life.
     
    And the Masquerades saw their experiment bear fruit. After the death of the young man, a newly revitalized police force was instigated—with an in-house police force to supervise them.
     
    A single mistake compounded by the naiveté of youth saw the world again restructured as the enforcers grew stronger and stronger yet—until the criminals rebounded and everything returned to the beginning. The dance had begun anew.
     
  21. Janus

    The Truth

    By Janus,

    (18)
     
    Really not much to say, I've had stuff on my mind. Some of that came out in tonight's entry, some of it didn't.
     
    Oh, play Cave Story.
     
    Word Count: 991
     
    Enjoy.
     

     

    The Truth 
    I'm writing this (though I am more than away it's no story) not so much for purposes of entertainment, so much as the purpose of expressing myself and allowing you to better know me.
     
    I've always found that writers use their art to express who they are, and upon some self-reflection I found I needed something a little more...intensive, shall we say?
     
    You see, for as long as I can recall people have found me an interesting individual, whether it was my writing, my viewpoints, my MOCs or Models--people have always found me someone who they enjoyed speaking with. Why?
     
    I really couldn't tell you.
     
    You see, the truth is...I'm not. I'm not an interesting individual, in fact this entire entry is dedicated to that very fact. It amazes me daily to know that I've inspired people and that people find me fascinating--because quite frankly I'm nothing more than anybody else. More particularly I'm more annoying than most.
     
    I hide it, I've always been able to hide it remarkably well (and that has obviously served me in my life) however the fact remains, and seems to have eternally remained--I am but a boy with delusions of grandeur.
     
    Truly it is infuriating.
     
    You see, I write because I enjoy it. I truly do. There are all sorts of things that I have written, or drawn into concepts that nobody (and I do mean nobody) will never ever see. Why? Because I love writing and always have.
     
    But then I get that little worm of a thought into my brain that little "I should post this" parasite that niggles into my thoughts...and shortly thereafter my will is reduced into...well, nothing. I almost always end up posting it, and then I watch, I wait. I act like a hawk slowly circling, ever circling its prey.
     
    I wait and I wait and I wait for that first comment.
     
    And then it comes! And my thoughts?
     
    "Well, that was okay"
     
    And then I return to my waiting, my watching. I await what I view as the inevitable second comment. Often I wait for quite some time...or I give up waiting as I realize that the comment isn't coming.
     
    "But wait!" you cry,
    "Isn't this entry supposed to be about you, and your delusions of Grandeur?"
     
    Ah, patience gentle reader. It is.
     
    This is not by any means a slandering of those who do not leave comments, I do not even know you, how could I possibly slander you?
     
    No, this is more to say that I expect it. Why do I expect it? Because clearly I am superior, clearly I am quite an incredible person with amazing talent and surely everyone will realize it when I post this handwoven masterpiece of supreme amazingness!
     
    Yes. I am that bloody arrogant.
     
    This is what my mind whispers to me, day in and day out.
     
    Now I do my best to counteract this pervasive influence, but one has only ask my friends...honestly -ask- them, and they will tell you.
     
    I get defensive with my writing, I get catty and snarky and angry and bitter when people make comments on my writing--why? Is it because I believe in my craft and think that these comments are obviously out to insult?
     
    Lord no. It's because deep in my mind all I can see is "How could they not like it? I mean, I did my best HOW AM I NOT THE BEST?" Arrogance at its finest.
     
    When at last my inner egomaniac is subjected I am left with a feeling of melancholy and sadness, because I clearly cannot be the best. Clearly I am the worst, I am nothing and I am terrible.
     
    While that was done out of sarcasm, that is truly the thoughts that play through my mind.
     
    Really, I'd love for this not to be the truth. I'd love to just be able to say to people "Yes, I am that amazing." I'd love to be able to actually believe what people say about me and my work. But I've fought long and hard against allowing my ego to consume me, and I have to continue.
     
    Because I am the most arrogant person you will ever meet. Though I am not proud of it, I look down on people who I do not even know--because they're 'wrong' and they clearly 'don't understand' and a litany of other ridiculously stupid excuses.
     
    I have always believed, even from the youngest of ages that I was destined for something better, that somehow I above all others was superior, was the better of everyone else--how this happened, what with two older sisters who were all too quick to put me in my place, I will never understand--but regardless it did.
     
    In fact, for as long as I can recall I've been having experiences that have simply cemented that twisted thought, the thought that I am in fact inherently superior to the rest of the planet. Some were paranormal in nature and some not--the common thread amongst them is very simple, in looking back I cannot honestly detach the true event from my embellishment. Because no matter what I must be the best.
     
    I am a fool with delusions of grandeur. I think I am far better than I am.
     
     
    This is not to say that I do not accept any of my talents. I am not here to say I am a terrible person and I should be reviled and suffer the slings and arrows of the world.
     
    I'm saying don't always believe what you see. I'm an expert at maintaining a facade, I have been for a frighteningly long time.
     
    And please, please, please feel free to call me on my arrogance. Do not allow me to insult you or your works in my tone or my actions.
     
    That's really all I have to say. I just needed to get out the truth.
  22. Janus

    The Truth behind stuff.

    By Janus,

    Becca and I have come to the conclusion that Animal Crossing: City Folk takes place within the Capitol.
     
    Also that President Snow only became President because he wanted to be the mayor in Animal Crossing SO BADLY.
  23. Janus

    The Wall

    By Janus,

    This will be a quick entry, I'm not even sure why I'm writing it (Of course now I remember that I'm not sure I why I write any entries at all, so that's nothing new)
     
    Basically, I've been listening to Pink Floyd's The Wall album. Not obsessively, just a single listen through, and wow. This album can sum up the entire emotional gamut of your normal human being. Absolutely raw music in here--then again, that's what Pink Floyd does best.
     
    If you've never heard The Wall it is heavily recommended. Emotions and Insanity run rampant in it.
     
    And while you're at it, listen to Dark Side of the Moon, though I personally (along with the band) consider that to be one MASSIVE song, instead of an Album.
     
    Hey, what do you know, this entry was longer than expected.
  24. Janus
    Blah blab blah Mistika-debate-hate. It's gettin' old, people. CHILL.

    I have no problem with meaningful discussion, but that is HARDLY MEANINGFUL DISCUSSION.
    Listen to some Creed and CHILL.



    I can't find the rhyme in all my reason
    Lost sense of time and all seasons

    I feel I've been beaten down
    By the words of men who have no grounds

    I can't sleep beneath the trees of wisdom
    When your ax has cut the roots that feed them

    Forked tongues in bitter mouths
    Can drive a man to bleed from inside out

    What if you did?
    What if you lied?
    What if I avenge?
    What if eye for an eye?

    I've seen the wicked fruit of your vine
    Destroy the man who lacks a strong mind

    Human pride sings a vengeful song
    Inspired by the times you've been walked on

    My stage is shared by many millions
    Who lift their hands up high because they feel this

    We are one We are strong
    The more you hold us down the more we press on

    What if you did?
    What if you lied?
    What if I avenge?
    What if eye for an eye?

    I know I can't hold the hate inside my mind
    'Cause what consumes your thoughts controls your life

    So I'll just ask a question
    A Lonely Simple Question
    I'll just ask one question

    What if? What if? What if? What if I?
    What if? What if? What if? What if I?
    What if? What if? What if? What if I?
    What if? What if? What if? What if I?

    What if you did?
    What if you lied?
    What if I avenge
    What if eye for an eye?
    What if your words could be judged like a crime?

    -Creed: Human Clay
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