qwertystop
Qwertystop
Day by day, the ashes settle; I hope to light anew.
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Since @lazodiac and I have been doing a localization comparison of Ar Tonelico 2 for a while now – we're going to try to do something similar for these games! Just need to find some better way to do it than "play both English versions in parallel with a hacky overlay for the Japanese text"... got to remember to try to reach out to someone involved...
the lost EXE games phantom of the network and legend of the network will be available to play in english for the first time ever on may 25, 2024!
at least one developer of this port braved literal actual bombs to save the phones with these games on them and the testing equipment.
they are finally real. this has been a project for so many years. and the development of these ports means that a lot of lost phone games from this era can finally be restored, translated, and preserved.
I can hardly believe this. they actually fucking did it
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Well. Happy Mother's Day, everyone, call your loved ones. Didn't expect that.
EXEC_OVERLANG is complete!
Localization comparison stream of Ar Tonelico 2 with @lazodiac is resuming at last – now with the Japanese text shown in overlay as well!
twitch_live
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EXEC_OVERLANG is complete!
Localization comparison stream of Ar Tonelico 2 with @lazodiac is resuming at last – now with the Japanese text shown in overlay as well!
twitch_live
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i....found a rare shoegaze tape. legit. band does not exist online. tape is at least 20 years old. This is so Sam
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A GUIDE FOR YOUNG LADIES ENTERING THE SERVICE OF THE FAIRIES, by Rosamund Hodge
I.
This is the lie they will use to break you: no one else has ever loved this way before.
II.
Choose wisely which court you serve. Light or Dark, Summer or Winter, Seelie or Unseelie: they have many names, but the pith of the choice is this: a poisoned flower or a knife in the dark?
(The difference is less and more than you might think.)
Of course, this is only if you go to them for the granting of a wish: to save your father, sister, lover, dearest friend. If you go to get someone back from them, or—most foolish of all—because you fell in love with one of them, you will have no choice at all. You must go to the ones that chose you.
III.
Be kind to the creature that guards your door. Do not mock its broken, bleeding face.
It will never help you in return. But I assure you, someday you will be glad to know that you were kind to something once.
IV.
Do not be surprised how many other mortal girls are there within the halls. The world is full of wishing and of wanting, and the fairies love to play with human hearts.
You will meet all kinds: the terrified ones, who used all their courage just getting there. The hopeful ones, who think that love or cleverness is enough to get them home. The angry ones, who see only one way out. The cold ones, who are already half-fairy.
I would tell you, Do not try to make friends with any of them, but you will anyway.
V.
Sooner or later (if you serve well, if you do not open the forbidden door and let the monster eat you), they will tell you about the game.
Summer battles Winter, Light battles Dark. This is the law of the world. And on the chessboard of the fairies, White battles Black.
In the glory of this battle, the pieces that are brave and strong may win their heart’s desire.
VI.
You already have forgotten how the mortal sun felt upon your face. You already know the bargain that brought you here was a lie.
If you came to save your sick mother, you fear she is dead already. If you came to free your captive sister, your fear she will be sent to Hell for the next tithe. If you came for love of an elf-knight, you are broken with wanting him, and yet he does not seem to know you.
Say yes.
Keep reading
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I don't even know where to begin. yuya sakaki egg. yuya sakaki transgender. there's so much going on in this show and it all points directly to 'yuya would be much happier on estrogen'
the relentlessly trying to emulate her dad thing(and, once you see him actually dueling, realizing how much of a gulf that is, how little a chance of that there was)
the fact that yuya constantly looks more like yuzu and the other girls than any of the boys that are supposed to share her face(also the occasional shots where they get directly compared and look bafflingly similar) (also her silhouette being extremely different compared to the other boys) (also the tits. who fucking animated that shirt I want to talk to them they kept giving yuya significantly more breast than literally any other male character in the show what was up with that)
the emotional repression and masking.
masculinity in general like - yuya is constantly dueling what might as well be avatars of toxic masculinity, and also fighting an internal fight against it and ends up failing because there is not a single male character in the show that presents a masculine ideal that yuya can accept and emulate especially not her dad.
oh by the way she wears her school coat exactly like her mom's female ace monster. just to note.
anyway below the cut are some pictures of yuya, to assure you I have a vision and am not insane.
a;dn if that doesn't convince you I don't know what would.
#gender#i don't go here#i mean i play yugioh but i don't watch the show#but at least from these pictures i believe it
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make for your lobster a sweater with mittens.
meter doesn't work as written.
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A hiker, clearly shaken, enters a remote English village pub, his clothes all torn and he's full of scratches.
"You won't believe this," he says to the bartender. "I was attacked by a leopard!"
"Really?"
"Yes! A leopard! In England!" The hiker sits down and orders the strongest liquor they've got. "I tried to run, but it was if course much faster than me."
The hiker gets his glass, empties it, and asks for another. "It sent me to the ground with a mighty push from its paws, but weirdly enough it then just gave me a really sad look and left."
"Ah, you met Father Andrews," the bartender says, matter-of-factly.
"What do you mean?" asks the tourist, confused.
"Father Andrews was our priest. A truly kind-hearted man, loved by all. His only goal in life was to serve his congregation as well as he could. So when he one day found a lamp with a genie, his very first wish was to be a loving shepherd to the community."
"That's nice "
"Absolutely, if only he hadn't been so prone to spoonerisms."
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imagine if you will, a fairly dry survival crafting game in which you live in a bunker and must periodically venture out to scavenge food, set up turrets for attacking monsters, etc
now, your computer inside the bunker has a game-inside-a-game on it which is a charming farming sim of undeniably greater quality and scope than the survival game you're playing. therefore, the object of the game becomes to keep your bunker secure so you can play the farming game more.
now, once you achieve the highest rating in the farming game, a secret shop inside it unlocks, and one of the novelty items you can purchase is a game console, giving you access to games-inside-a-game-inside-a-game. most of the games for it are typical mobile shovelware, but one of them is a highly polished, extremely brutal precision platformer with amazing level design and production values exceeding that of the survival game and farming sim combined.
it is only at this point that the purpose of this entire contrivance becomes clear: to create the most deranged speedrun community the world has ever seen.
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Nature is healing.
I burned the Meadow a couple weeks ago. At first it looked like nothing but charred ashes and dirt, with a few scorched green patches, and I was afraid I'd done something terrible. But then the sprouts emerged. Tender new leaves swarming the soil.
My brother and I were outside after dark the other day, to see if any lightning bugs would emerge yet. We had been working on digging the pond. That old soggy spot in the middle of the yard that we called "poor drainage," that always splattered mud over our legs when we ran across it as children—it isn't a failed lawn, and it never was.
Oh, we tried to fill in the mud puddles, even rented heavy machinery and graded the whole thing out, but the little wetland still remembered. God bless those indomitable puddles and wetlands and weeds, that in spite of our efforts to flatten out the differences that make each square meter of land unique from another, still declare themselves over and over to be what they are.
So we've been digging a hole. A wide, shallow hole, with an island in the middle.
And steadily, I've been transplanting in vegetation. At school there is a soggy field that sadly is mowed like any old field. The only pools where a frog could lay eggs are tire ruts. From this field I dig up big clumps of rushes and sedges, and nobody pays me any mind when I smuggle them home.
I pulled a little stick of shrubby willow from some cracked pavement near a creek, and planted it nearby. From a ditch on the side of the road beside a corn field, I dug up cattail rhizomes. Everywhere, tiny bits of wilderness, holding on.
I gathered up rotting logs small enough to carry and made a log pile beside the pond. At another corner is a rock pile. I planted some old branches upright in the ground to make a good place for birds and dragonflies to perch.
And there are so many birds! Mourning doves, robins, cardinals and grackles come here in much bigger numbers, and many, many finches and sparrows. I always hear woodpeckers, even a Pileated Woodpecker here and there. A pair of bluebirds lives here. There are three tree swallows, a barn swallow also, tons of chickadees, and there's always six or seven blue jays screaming and making a commotion. And the goldfinches! Yesterday I watched three brilliant yellow males frolic among the tall dandelions. They would hover above the grass and then drop down. One landed on a dandelion stem and it flopped over. There are several bright orange birds too. I think a couple of them are orioles, but there's definitely also a Summer Tanager. There's a pair of Canada Geese that always fly by overhead around the same time in the evening. It's like their daily commute.
The other day, as I watched, I saw a Cooper's Hawk swoop down and carry off a robin. This was horrifying news for the robin individually, but great news for the ecosystem. The food chain can support more links now.
There are two garter snakes instead of one, both of them fat from being good at snaking. I wonder if there will be babies?
But the biggest change this year is the bugs. It's too early for the lightning bugs, but all the same the yard is full of life.
It's like remembering something I didn't know I forgot. Oh. This is how it's supposed to be. I can't glance in any direction without seeing the movement of bugs. Fat crickets and earwigs scuttle underneath my rock piles, wasps flit about and visit the pond's shore, an unbelievable variety of flies and bees visit the flowers, millipedes and centipedes hide under the logs. Butterflies, moths, and beetles big and small are everywhere.
I can't even describe it in terms of individual encounters; they're just everywhere, hopping and fluttering away with every step. There are so many kinds of ants. I sometimes stare really closely at the ground to watch the activities of the ants. Sometimes they are in long lines, with two lanes of ants going back and forth, touching antennae whenever two ants traveling in opposite directions meet. Sometimes I see ants fighting each other, as though ant war is happening. Sometimes the ants are carrying the curled-up bodies of dead ants—their fallen comrades?
My neighbor gave me all of their fallen leaves (twelve bags!) and it turns out that piling leaves on top of a rock and log pile in a wet area summons an unbelievable amount of snails.
I always heard of snails as pests, but I have learned better. Snails move calcium through the food chain. Birds eat snails and use the calcium in their shells to make egg shells. In this way, snails lead to baby birds. I never would have known this if I hadn't set out to learn about snails.
In the golden hour of evening, bugs drift across the sky like golden motes of dust, whirling and dancing together in the grand dramas of their tiny lives. I think about how complicated their worlds are. After interacting with bees and wasps so much for so long, I'm amazed by how intelligent and polite they are. Bumble bees will hover in front of me, swaying side to side, or circle slowly around me several times, clearly perceiving some kind of information...but what? It seems like bees and wasps can figure out if you are a threat, or if you are peaceful, and act accordingly.
I came to a realization about wasps: when they dart at your head so you hear them buzzing close by your ears, they're announcing their presence. The proper response is to freeze and duck down a bit. It seems like wasps can recognize if you're being polite; for what it's worth, I've never been stung by a wasp.
As night falls, bats emerge and start looping and darting around in the sky above. If the yard seems full of bugs in the day, it is nothing compared to the night.
I'm aware that what I'm about to describe, to an entomophobe, sounds like a horror movie: when i walk to the back yard, the trees are audibly crackling and whirring with the activity of insects. Beetles hover among the branches of the trees. When we look up at the sky, moths of all sizes are flying hither and thither across it. A large, very striking white moth flies past low to the ground.
Last year, seeing a moth against the darkening sky was only occasional. Now there's so many of them.
I consider it in my mind:
When roads and houses are built and land is turned over to various human uses, potentially hundreds of native plant species are extirpated from that small area. But all of the Eastern USA has been heavily altered and destroyed.
Some plants come back easily, like wild blackberry, daisy fleabane, and common violets. But many of them do not. Some plants need fire to sprout, some need Bison or large birds to spread them, some need humans to harvest and care for them, some live in habitats that are frequently treated with contempt, some cannot bear to be grazed by cattle, some are suffocated beneath invasive Tall Fescue, Kentucky bluegrass, honeysuckle or Bradford pears, and some don't like being mowed or bushhogged.
Look at the landscape...hundreds and hundreds of acres of suburbs, pastures, corn fields, pavement, mowed verges and edges of roads.
Yes, you see milkweed now and then, a few plants on the edge of the road, but when you consider the total area of space covered by milkweed, it is so little it is nearly negligible. Imagine how many milkweed plants could grow in a single acre that was caretaken for their prosperity—enough to equal fifty roadsides put together!
Then I consider how many bugs are specialists, that can only feed upon a particular plant. Every kind of plant has its own bugs. When plant diversity is replaced by Plant Sameness, the bug population decreases dramatically.
Plant sameness has taken over the world, and the insect apocalypse is a result.
But in this one small spot, nature is healing...
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I get a little annoyed at how writings don't give Native North American peoples any agency in agricultural technologies
Domestication takes hundreds or thousands of years to accomplish, so it's weird to me that so many sources claim that food plants native to North America were cultivated into existence after European settlement, from a "wild" ancestor into a highly desirable crop
Take for example, the famous Concord grape. Supposedly it was bred from wild ancestors in a few years by just one guy.
With pecans, the word itself is Algonquin, so it's harder to deny that Native Americans cultivated them, but supposedly "domestication began in the 1800's". and as the source says, "wild-type" pecans are perfectly acceptable for sale in the market
And then there is nonsense like all the sources that will tell you pawpaws are an "evolutionary anachronism" from when they were distributed by giant ground sloths and other megafauna, as though humans don't count.
Are we to believe that indigenous peoples knew nothing of plant breeding? When the Cherokee were given peaches, apples, and watermelon, they adopted the new plants for use in their orchards and soon developed their own breeds.
Don't even get me started on all the plants that were almost lost and largely not used anymore, like Rivercane and the American Chestnut.
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yet another reason to get firefox
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This is one significant aspect of Counterfeit Monkey, a game in which the player character is one of two people who have been combined into one person. The narrator is the other. Towards the end of the game, a choice leads to one or the other taking precedence.
Game concept that's probably already been done: A videogame about possession, where you, the player, are the foreign entity possessing the character you are playing as.
The story's whole point is to get you out of the protagonist's head, and since you want to complete the game, it's presumable that you therefore want to help the protagonist get rid of you. While you control the playable character's body, their narration is their own, and frequently comments on what you're making them do, with remarks like "ugh, can we focus? we need to go to the thing" when you start twiddling with pointless things instead of progressing the plot.
And occasionally the character just refuses to do what you want them to do. Instead of an invisible wall barring you from going beyond the boundaries of the game, the character consciously halts and tells you "no, that's far enough. We can't just wander off." If you try to make the character attack NPCs that you can't fight, they shudder and shake their head, going "no, what's wrong with you? She's my friend!"
At first the game kind of railroads what you need to do next, which is specifically by the character you're controlling refusing to do what you're trying to make them do. Their whole goal is to get rid of you, get this evil damn thing out of their head. But gradually you can build up trust with the character, by leading them to things they want or need, and keeping them out of danger.
Consequently, allowing the character to die or get injured makes them harder to control, and more likely to refuse to do as you want. And the less they trust you, the harder the game is. While the sliding scale of trust might not be a visible mechanic in the game, you can hear it in the tone in which they talk to you. The voice lines are mostly the same, but when you start leading the character to a random direction, the same "where are you taking me?" can either be calm but intrigued, or distressed and afraid.
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