My second playthrough of exocolonist was so funny likee
I was trying to get into a relationship with both Dys and Sym. But somehow messed up and didn't flirt enough with either. I also changed my mind halfway through and let Dys bomb the colony just to see what happens. And then let him become a gardener. And then I got into a relationship with Sym. And then I became governor and saved everyone.
I just find it funny to think about this through that timeline's Sol eyes like.
You have a crush on this guy since you were a kid.
And hey! If that's not working out you also have a crush on this hot alien you just met. You shoot your shot with both.
Then you just fucking randomly find out they're together after one of em bombed the colony you're planning to lead.
Your childhood crush turns into brain goop. You have a very emotional moment.
You think your romantic life is fucked.
Not even a month later you fuck the alien in a cave.
Then another month later you overthrow the government.
Then you falsify info for everyone on earth to think the planet exploded.
And at the end of the year you strike a deal with the consciousness that's been trying to kill you and save everyone you love.
I just know that version of Sol had years cut off their life just by the sheer stress of that one last gameplay year 😭😭😭
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i just feel have not seen a single post/tweet/etc about taika waititi or love and thunder that has felt normal or like a reasonable/proportional response to the film. (this post got way too long and i feel embarrassed and cringe about it so its going under a cut)
i see a tweet criticizing him for poking fun at the cgi in a clip used as promo, and like, okay the phrasing of the tweet kind of exaggerates how cruel he is being (about a character that he literally plays), but the points being made about how vfx artists are overworked and underpaid is absolutely true. but the tweet is made by a zack snyder stan account positioning taika waititi himself as the poster boy of the MCU and the symbol of the companies treatment of vfx artists as a whole. which is weird. i think.
i see a post on here about the same clip, half the notes are diehard loki stans who already view taika as the devil incarnate because he “disrespected” their baby boy in ragnarok talking about how hes an asshole and they hate him because he has a huge ego etc etc. and more posts using these moments as the core basis to talk about the MCU and why its bad as a whole and i just. since when was he the face of the MCU?? i know he made the movie that most recently came out but i am just.
we KNOW that the directors barely play a role in these films we all reblogged that article about how half the movie is made - not just written, but literally the scenes have been created digitally etc - before the director even signs on and we KNOW ragnarok is an outlier (and from what i hear this film is more standard MCU fare, though i also hear it reads like a kind of parody of that, which i could absolutely believe, but i need to see it for myself ofc). but suddenly when its a guy we’ve decided needs to get taken down a peg its ONLY his fault?
like obviously i like taika waititi a lot i have Feelings for him and also i like his work!!!! but the point of this post isnt to be like omg defending taika online isnt enough i need a sword im just like. why do i need to defend him?? what did he do??? he clearly doesnt give a shit about marvel like i think thats what it comes down to at the end of the day. marvel movies will never be truly good no matter who makes them so he made a(n apparently) bad movie and got his paycheck. obviously i don’t actually know him or his motivations etc etc and im not going to die on the hill of defending a fucking marvel director or whatever but the intensity of the backlash just feels. genuinely weird to me.
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@theimpalpable | the GBEP
If Samuel could will a hole into existence every time he so desperately needs one to just swallow him whole and drag him to the centre of the Earth, a coffin designed perfectly for the kind of messes he's been creating all around this already doomed planet, he'd have turned said doomed planet into the oddest piece of Swiss Cheese ever come into existence.
Which is either a very funny thought or he's bordering on succumbing to the hysterics curling his lips into that odd smile he can't shake off his lips, no matter how inappropriate it feels to wear.
His hands are pressed into his face, eyes freed still and staring at nothing at all, his fingers buried into the beginnings of his hair, messing what is already pretty messy on its own.
This is a nightmare. He hardly has the mental capacity necessary to recognize the possible and very likely implications and ramifications of the creatures he set out into the world, the slow march of decay swaggering about along the bottom of the ocean; being sat directly next to the direct consequences of his actions isn't any easier to stomach as a result, in fact, he's pretty certain that his desiring this to be a dream is teetering dangerously close to him starting to convince himself it is a dream.
Which, of course, would be violently useful.
A psychotic break in the middle of a bar next to a guy who's life he's ruining.
He groans, hands moving to slide over his face, rub into his eyes until he sees stars and begs them to come down upon him like vengeful angels and strike him off the face of the planet. Maybe that would do it. Maybe his death would kill everything he's created along with him, kind of like... killing the sire of a vampire...
"The Sazerac, please," Samuel manages to interject pathetically, which he assumes is not the tone of voice bartenders prefer out of their clients in terms of who they decide to serve and who they'd rather see out of their establishment in the next few 'immediately please'. Samuel has never been refused service before, never thrown enough back to give any barkeep reason to, never crumbled in public in a way obvious enough that it leaves any impression.
But, then again, he's also never half-assed a plot outline and have it lead to meeting the guy said plot outline had forced into itself, perhaps in a weird attempt on the universe's part to fix what he can't, to finally be the author he should be.
Oh, great, an existential crisis on top of the 'supernatural' crisis.
Samuel looks up when the barkeep returns with a glass and doesn't even have the energy to pretend he's surprised when it turns out to be water. He sighs, curses his existence with the exhausted resignation of someone who's given up on trusting in self-curses, and grabs the glass.
He manages a wry smile, charming and handsome, that the stranger is, which is perhaps part of the reason he'd fit so fucking well into the kind of story Samuel had attempted to emulate. Clichés upon clichés, all he'd managed to scratch together, who doesn't love a good explorer story and a Nathan Drake to charm anyone who'd swoon at the easy smile and easy wit?
If anything, Samuel is slowly becoming self-deprecatingly surprised he hadn't realized the moment the stranger had turned his head his way, that this is who he'd been looking for.
He'd tried to find something new to add, something fresh to add to the genre, something to stand out with, and that's precisely while it's now half-deceased and half-abandoned somewhere in a pile of notes with stories just like it.
He hadn't come up with anything that would have made it worth reading above others just like it.
"No, I... I don't think you'll die," Samuel finds himself uttering back, an open-mouthed drag of his mouth to one side to put emphasis on the word 'die', all while he unconsciously peeks over the stranger's arm to watch his sketch unfold. Oh. He can draw, too, he muses, subconsciously adjusting the glasses he sees reflected on the paper.
Charming, handsome, creative, extroverted, makes easy conversations and commands a scenario without ever making Samuel feel like he's backed into a corner by a personality much louder than his own. A guy, friendly, but not overly so.
Samuel has no idea if the plot chose him because who wouldn't fancy a heartthrob protagonist like that - which is honestly just embarrassing to admit - or because if Samuel could pay money to have any of those qualities...
The usual. Is he hot or do I just really, really wish I were him?
Samuel takes a big sip of his water.
He's loosing his goddamn mind.
He's hoping he won't die. He had briefly considered... perhaps a good way to stand out would be to... just...
He slams his hand onto the stranger's arm, eyes blown wide in a frantic panic to fix something he can't fix and prevent something not even happening yet.
"Can I have your number?"
He gives himself a few seconds of sirens blaring in his ears before he connects the dots of how he sounds and recoils, only to lurch forward again, an odd dissonance of pulling away, but not appearing... what? Exactly? Damn the bartender for refusing him that drink.
"Not- not like that, wait- uhm, I'm Samuel, hi, nice to meet you, do you think we could...? As in, I would like to help. I think I might be able to- I think you might need my help- this will sound ridiculous, do--?"
He closes his eyes, counts to ten, hates himself a little more, opens them again with an exhale.
"I think I'm partly or mostly to blame for your situation but the reason why I believe that will make me sound insane. But I... need you to believe me and I think... listen, can we talk somewhere else? Maybe...? Or... some other time? Or...?"
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