So.
I started playing Final Fantasy XI again.
Because I missed Vana'diel.
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Optimism!
So I got to thinking.
Steampunk is lame.
Zombies are lame.
We seem to be in the middle of a fad featuring them both, in popular fiction and video games. They always kind of irritated me, and at first I thought it was just because they were overdone, but now that I think about it, it got all philosophical-like:
"Steampunk" overly romanticizes the past. To elaborate, it's a candy-coated depiction of an age that, by all historical accounts, was not particularly pleasant. Do you know what conditions were actually like in the Victorian ages? Research it up. It wasn't that grand. You can go ahead and enjoy the fashion sense, but don't let
Twenty Ten.
That's what we're calling it. None of this "two-thousand " business anymore.
Not only do I now own a DS, but my good computer is working once more (the problem: a bad CPU fan had me stumped for seven months. Aghbhglghblblghblgljhb). Gods willing, I may even be able to save up enough money in the next month or two to buy a PS3 and a Wii. Finally...I can GAME MODERNLY.
Not that that'll stop me from continuing to import Touhou CDs and spend hours dying to ZUN's blatantly malicious bullet curtains.
Tomorrow, it's back to work...and mandatory overtime, at that (we have a *lot* of cleaning up to do from the usual holiday fallout). But life
I believe in Santa.
Contrary to popular "science", Santa is real, and practically everything they say about him is true, particularly that which he Sees (you sleeping/awake) and Knows (if you've been bad or good).
You see, in reality he operates behind the scenes as the master of a shadow-network of agents, most of whom don't even realize who they're working for. It is said that those who do can be identified by their pointy ears and crazy hats and shortness, but sometimes not.
Among his puppet-agents he's cultivated a subconscious hive-mind that permeates every aspect of their being. Science people have tentatively dubbed this collective psychic gestalt as t
Touhou.
Dammit.
I started playing one of those games, thanks to memetic overstimulus from every conceivable direction, seeping into every aspect of my existence (on the internet, anyway).
Isn't that the one thing they tell you not to do, when you're drowning in the sugary quicksand of adorable ghosts that will eat you, conspicuously interesting armpits, retarded snow-child faeries, takin' it easy, stolen things that are precious, and suppositories, is flailing about wildly as you attempt to dodge their sadistic laser barrages, as you will be forced to call the moon and ask the resident drug-dealer for help?
I guess now I'm a fan.
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Comments4
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Yes. Indeed. Or a small, river-dwelling crab of some sort.
I still say Bastok's legion of guys whose names sound like "Sephiroth" could totally take San'dOria's army of guys whose names sound like "Legolas."
I still say Bastok's legion of guys whose names sound like "Sephiroth" could totally take San'dOria's army of guys whose names sound like "Legolas."