Also, just a little heads up for y'all: I will most likely not be very active on Tumblr today due to wanting to avoid any potential spoilers for the Mario movie before I see it later tonight.

how to never stop being totally not okay: a guide to emotional repression for idiots in love with other idiots (by dirk strider)

alternatively titled: baby, are you existential dread? cuz you make me deeply uncomfortable in ways i don’t care to think about (the john egbert life story) 

Summary: How Dirk Strider stole a car, learned to drive, and got a boyfriend (in that order).

(a late birthday dirkjohn road trip fic for my friend lou @vanillacorpse @centercharter! happy birthday, lou!)

1. When he asks you whether you stole it, say no.

“Please tell me you did not steal that,” says John.

“Why does that matter.”

“Because it matters! And because when Terezi asks me about it later, I need plausible deniability. Tell me you did not steal this vehicle.”

“I . . . did not steal this vehicle.”

“Okay. Now, are you saying that because it’s true or because I told you to?”

“What happened to plausible deniability?”

“Never mind.”

From behind the wheel of a glossy, scarlet, brand spanking new Maserati, Dirk Strider says, “Look, are you coming or not?”

From the front porch of his house, dressed in pajamas and sandals, and holding a duffle bag slung over one shoulder, John Egbert says, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

At four o’clock in the morning, the neighborhood is quiet and dark. The trees rustle in a gentle breeze. A cat prowls along the sidewalk, its first and second eyes a luminous yellow, its third and fourth a vivid green. Down the street, a light is on in Jane’s kitchen, and through the curtains, someone is moving around. Maybe it’s her dad, downstairs for a nightcap. Or maybe it’s Jane. She’s taken up late night baking recently. The last time Dirk checked, the melatonin was working, though, so it’s probably her dad, after all.

You’re a god, now, technically,” John gripes. He slams the door shut with a force that has Dirk opening his mouth to complain about treating the car better, until he remembers that he stole this thing off the display room floor an hour ago, and also that he doesn’t really give a rat’s ass what happens to it. “You can just make infinite money. Or alchemize a car. Or ask them for it, they’d probably give it to you. Why do you need to steal.”

John has this habit, Dirk’s noticed, of asking questions that aren’t questions, questions that are more an opportunity for the other person to prove John wrong than honest inquiries about things John doesn’t know. For example, this one.

“You’re also a god,” Dirk points out. “You live in an apartment the size of my garage. Why not buy a castle? Why not build one?”

“That’s not even, like, slightly the same thing, dude.”

“How so.”

“For one thing, I don’t -- you know what, no. It’s too early for this. Start driving before I change my mind.”

“If you don’t want to come,” Dirk begins uncertainly, and John groans.

“Drive.”

“Okay.”

It started with a midnight text.

Dirk doesn’t exactly know why John hangs out with him. He doesn’t. It makes sense for John to hang out with Roxy, because of . . . shenanigans in their past that nobody really talks about. And with Jake and Jane, well, they’re literally genetic family, so they probably have a lot of shit to talk about. And of course he’d keep in touch with his friends from his session. That doesn’t require an explanation. But there’s not much that Dirk has to offer John, except a whole fistful of absolutely no personal connection. Their first conversation took place in the aftermath of a dying universe, except Dirk doesn’t remember that. So their first conversation was . . . hours after the Game, Dirk guesses. Or maybe earlier than that. He doesn’t remember their first words. It was probably something inane along the lines of “Sup, bro,” or “Nice one.” Dirk probably said something stupid. John probably gave him a weird look and then left him alone. Statistically speaking, that would be how it went.

But somewhere along the line neither of them knowing each other turned into an advantage instead of a reason to avoid each other. Sometimes, when half of your social circle was related to you and the other half had dated you or one of your relatives in the recent past, it was refreshing to hang out a total fucking stranger, for a change.

So when John said, “I need to get out of this fucking town,” what Dirk said was not “Sounds rough, I’ll text Jade,” but instead, “I can get us a car by Friday.”

And instead of saying, “Um, okay, that’s kind of weird, I was just talking about a hypothetical,” John said, “Sweet. Come by my place as soon as you have it,” because he’s the kind of guy that says things like that. Dirk wishes he were the kind of guy who said things like that.

Granted, John does look a little bit like Jake, which is weird sometimes. He looks enough like Jake that Dirk has commented on it, once, in one of his habitual fits of saying dumb shit without thinking about, which that happen to him, sometimes, because his life is hell and existence is suffering. But John, after blinking in surprise, only laughed. “Haha, that’s kind of weird,” he said. “Didn’t you guys used to date?”

“Um,” said Dirk.

“Yeah,” said Dirk.

“I mean, kind of,” said Dirk.

“We broke up,” said Dirk.

“Whack,” John had said indifferently, and returned to ruthlessly beating Dirk’s ass in Mario Kart.

And because Dirk doesn’t know how to have nice things without fucking them irrevocably, he may or may not be a little bit in love with the guy. So he’s got that going for him.

John’s house is in what would be called northern California, if things like the United States government still existed, and if any of the people who created and shaped the global civilization had ever been to California. Upon Dave’s request, every principality and township in the continental U.S. had been subtitled Striderville, with various numerical identifiers to differentiate them. Austin was Striderville No. 1. New York was Striderville No. 7. Minneapolis was Striderville No. 666, for reasons that were unclear to everyone except Dave Strider, who when asked would only grimly profess, “It knows what it fucking did.”

Sacramento (Striderville No. 148) fades in their rearview as they soar across the freeway. Dirk, who has been getting this far on intuitive knowledge and gumption, takes the opportunity to admit, “I don’t actually know how to drive.”

It takes a moment for this fact to register.

“What do you mean,” John says slowly, “you don’t know how to drive?”

“It means what it means. I never learned.”

“What the fuck do you mean you never learned how to drive.”

“I mean that I grew up in the middle of the fucking ocean, Egbert, where was I supposed to get a car?”

“You’re driving right now!”

“Yeah, I mean, the operating part isn’t hard. It’s the lane stuff that makes it all complicated. Like, when to turn and shit. Actually, I think I memorized an old Texas driver’s ed manual once. Does that count?”

“No!”

“No need to get worked up about it,” Dirk mutters.

“Oh, my God,” John says, face in his hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die and it’s going to be because of you.”

“That’s a little dramatic.”

“It’s really not.”

“Have we crashed yet?”

“Let me drive,” John orders. “Pull over.”

Dirk really should let John drive. It’s the responsible choice. It’s the reasonable choice. It’s the choice that anybody with a lick of common sense to scrap together in their entire body would make.

Obviously, Dirk says, “No.”

“Do you even know what a stop sign is?”

“No, but if I employ a little bit of deductive reasoning, I bet I have a great guess.”

“What’s the first thing you do at a four-way?”

“Make sure everyone’s got a safeword.”

“Dirk, shut up, Jesus Christ. I bet you’ve never even had sex,” John says irritably, as they sail over the city limits.

Trying desperately not to actually sound wounded, Dirk says, “That’s a little below the belt, don’t you think.”

“How would you know? You’ve never gotten below the belt, have you?”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does if you’re not a virgin.”

“I’m not -- this conversation is ridiculous.”

“Virgin says what?”

“You’re bullying me. I’m being bullied, right now, by my own friend.”

“I get what Jane means,” John says, thoughtfully. “This really is therapeutic.”

“What? Making fun of me?”

“Yeah,” he says placidly. “Really good for the blood pressure. Hey, do you mind if I take a nap real quick?”

Dirk does a double take. “What happened to me not driving?” he asks suspiciously.

“Eh,” John says, waving it off, tipping his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. You’re doing fine.”

“Wait. Do you know how to drive?”

A tiny smile tugs at one corner of John’s mouth.

“Your session started when you were thirteen,” Dirk exclaims. “You wouldn’t have had time to learn.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You didn’t even care about it, did you.” The accusation is flat.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmno.”

“You were just fucking with me.”

“Uh-huh.”

Dirk considers this.

“You’re a jackass.”

“Yep,” John says happily, and tosses his feet up on the dash.

2. Don’t let him pick the music.

“I get to pick the music,” John decides, apropos of nothing, around 6:30, when they’re in the middle of southern California (Striderville No. 83-195). The sun is just dawning behind them, a blinding pinprick of white against the asphalt in the rearview. It casts sharp rays of orange light through the back windshield, lighting their faces in warm colors, bathing the cab in yellow and the road in front of them in shadows that seem to stretch on for miles.

“What? No, you don’t. I’m the driver. Driver picks the music.”

“Driver has to keep his hands on the steering wheel. Driver can’t stop me.”

“I’ll pull this car over, so help me God.”

“No, you won’t,” John says cheerfully, reaching for the radio.

“Wait,” says Dirk, panicking. “Don’t --”

“WHEN I WAS A YOUNG MAN--”

John wheezes.

“--MY FATHER TOOK ME INTO THE CITY, TO SEE A MARCHING BAND--”

“Listen,” Dirk says, speeding up. “Listen, right, okay, listen, it was in the car when I stole it--”

“HE SAID, ‘SON, WHEN YOU GROW UP, WILL YOU BE--”

John hoots. He shrieks. He cackles, slapping the dashboard of the car like he wants to beat the dust out of it.

“It’s a good record, okay, fuck, I mean, like, it’s not the worst thing--”

“THE SAVIOR OF THE BROKEN, THE BEATEN, AND THE DAMNED?”

“I’m texting Roxy,” says John, wrestling his phone out of his bag. This terrifies Dirk so badly that he actually takes a hand off the wheel to make a mad grab for it, and the car swerves, careening towards the shoulder.

“HE SAID, ‘WILL YOU DEFEAT THEM?’”

“You can’t do that,” Dirk says, his tone hovering two octaves above where it should be. “Listen, she doesn’t need to know about this--”

“Roxy would murder me if she found out about this and realized I hadn’t told her, dude, are you kidding me? Look, it’s an ethical obligation, if anything--”

“YOUR DEMONS? AND ALL THE NONBELIEVERS? THE PLANS THAT THEY HAVE MADE?”

“John,” Dirk says. “John. John. Listen to me, John.”

The shutter of the Apple camera closing, artificial and tinny, ricochets throughout the car like gunfire.

There is a long moment of silence, then, where the only sound is Gerard Way’s indecipherable howling.

“BECAUSE SOMEDAY, I’LL LEAVE YOU, A PHANTOM TO LEAD YOU IN THE SUMMER, TO JOIN THE BLACK PARADE.”

John and Dirk regard each other frostily.

“Give it to me,” Dirk orders, vaulting over the seat divider, and John yells, seizing the steering wheel: “DUDE, THE ROAD,” while also holding the phone as far away from Dirk’s grasp as his considerable armspan can possibly reach.

The car cuts a wild path across the interstate, zigzagging freely between the four lanes as if the lane dividers were more suggestions than rules, at one point almost turning a complete 180 and cruising back the way it came. Black skid marks sear the road under the tires when John wedges himself far enough into the driver’s seat to slam on the brake, and Dirk tries to take advantage of the opportunity to grip John’s wrist and pry his fingers off the phone.

“This is for your own good,” John grits out. “Roxy -- has the right -- to know --”

“Egbert, so help me God.”

“That’s also me, dumbass, and I’m not helping you--”

“I’ll give you anything you want.”

John pauses, the car slowing to a cool forty miles per hour, and says, “Anything?”

From where he sits, perched on the divider between seats like a gangly bird of prey, clinging to John’s outstretched hand like a kitten dangling over a waterfall, Dirk vows, “Anything.”

John grins, and lets go of the phone.

Dirk shuffles into the passenger’s seat, rolls down the window, and flings the offending device out into the street.

“Aw, man,” John complains, watching it bounce and roll away in the mirror. “I had a lot of music on that thing.”

“I’ll buy you another phone. I’ll buy you ten phones.”

“What the fuck am I gonna do with ten phones?”

“I dunno, dude, they’re your phones.”

John shakes his head. “Anyway,” he said. “You said anything.”

The man hasn’t stopped grinning since Dirk agreed. It is a truly unsettling sight.

“I don’t kiss. Aside from that--”

“Oh, man, literally fuck OFF--”

Dirk turns off the radio, which had metamorphosed into the song’s iconic caterwaul of guitars. “A deal’s a deal. What do you want from me?”

John says, “Can you read that exit sign for me?”

Dirk looks up and squints.

“You can take the dumb glasses off. That might help.”

Dirk does not, and so he doesn’t read what the exit sign says until John is steering them steadfastly towards it.

“No,” he says.

“You said anything.”

“I take it back. You know what, you can use my phone to text Roxy yourself. Strike me down for my arrogance. Smite me. Ruin me. Post nudes on my Facebook account. I don’t even have nudes. I’ll take some so you can post them. Just put my ass on blast. Or do you want to decapitate me? That’s very in, nowadays.”

John cackles, again.

The Maserati sails under the exit sign for the Wet N’ Wild Slippery Funtimes Happy Place Water Park, and Dirk Strider, neither for the first time nor the last, contemplates climbing out the window.

3. Do not, under any circumstances whatsoever, go to the waterpark.

Dirk is hot, wet, and covered in skin-tight clothing, and none of it in the fun way. He views this series of information to be a remarkably concise way of summating his life.

John strolls ahead. The bastard is barely wet. Somehow, the water always seemed to avoid him, migrating away from his form as if swayed from its course by his own ineffable good temper, and when he did get dunked, he could summon a gust of wind to dry himself off with all the effort it took to snap his fingers.

The Heir of Breath is such a useful classpect that sometimes it makes Dirk want to scream. Of course it would be Egbert who got the powers that served some fruitful day-to-day purpose.

He floats along instead of walking, like John, because unlike John, Dirk doesn’t derive pleasure from doing things the boring and painful way. Dirk spends most of his time off the ground, actually, even if it’s only by a few inches. It saves him the effort of having to walk.

“You look like a drowned cat,” John says, not unsympathetically.

“You’ve never fucking seen a drowned cat.”

“How do you know? I’ve seen a lot of shit. Maybe a drowned cat was part of it.”

“You know,” Dirk suggests, “if you really feel that bad, you could help me out. By doing things like . . . oh, I don’t know. Drying me off.”

“There were towels at the store,” John says innocently. “You could’ve -- hey, whoa, whoa. You gonna just climb into your luxury sports vehicle like that?”

Dirk, sopping wet and dripping onto the pavement, stops with his handle on the car door and gives John a dead-eyed stare.

“Just saying,” John says, raising his hands. “That’s leather upholstery. You get that wet, it’s gonna stink.”

“John,” Dirk says very quietly. “If you want me to dry off. You could summon the wind. To do exactly that.”

John presses his lips together tightly, brow furrowed in thought. “Hmm,” he said. “You know, I could do that, couldn’t I?”

“Yes.” Dirk resists the urge to vault over the hood of the car and throttle the man he is currently in love with. “You could.”

John summons a small tornado in the palm of his hand. “It’s really just so convenient,” he says blandly. “Don’t you think, Dirk?”

“It certainly would be,” Dirk says, grinding his teeth.

“Of course, I’d only ever do it with your permission. I wouldn’t use my powers on anybody without their consent, first.”

“Consider this,” Dirk grits out, “my full and enthusiastic consent.”

“Really?” John arches an eyebrow. “You’d just let me do that, Dirk? Wow. That’s a lot of trust you have in me. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just dry me off, asshole.”

John leans on the hood of the Maserati, arms folded, one ankle balanced on his knee. He grins, flashing thirty-two glossy white teeth, and the breeze stirs his hair just so, tousling it with a rakish charm. When Dirk looks at him, something twists in his chest. It feels hot and uncomfortable, and he doesn’t not like it, exactly.

Then he gets whisked into the air by a gust of wind, wrenched up like a ragdoll on the breeze.

As he soars through the air, one brief, fury-infused thought flashes through Dirk Strider’s mind:

He knows what he’s doing, the little shit.

Then this thought is swallowed by Dirk remembering that he can fly, and catching himself before he faceplants into solid concrete. Getting uppercut by the manifestation of the wind itself is bad enough. Eating shit in front of the guy you’re going on a roadtrip across America to impress would add insult to injury, really.

He staggers to his feet and trudges back to where John stands, bent over on his knees, still heaving with his last paroxysms of laughter.

“Granted unthinkable fucking cosmic powers,” Dirk seethes, “uses them like this. Oh, sure, that’s a great way to spend your time. Not like there’s anything more useful you could be doing with them. I’m sure that’s what you got them for. Tossing me around like a limp sack of nickels, that’s the real reason you got to be a fucking airbender.”

“Heh,” John says, straightening up, “yeah. I’m pretty great.”

But the smile he offers is smaller than it could be, and the laugh has gone out of his eyes, and Dirk is struck with a sudden pang of regret. This is chased by a needle-sharp jolt of self-hatred, because he knows what he did, and if he’d thought for half a fucking second before he spoke, he wouldn’t have said it.

They don’t talk about the Game.

4. Don’t think about the past.

Four months after Sburb ended, half of their friends still woke up screaming.

The other half didn’t, but that was because they hardly fucking spoke at all in the first place. Jade once went for a whole week without saying a word out loud to another human being. Jake fucked off into the woods for almost a month and didn’t take his phone with him, leaving everybody to wonder whether or not he’d wound up dead at the bottom of a waterfall somewhere until he came back. Roxy started coding again, but intensely, obsessively, staying up until ugly hours of the morning staring at lines upon lines of unforgiving binary, surrounded by empty cans of Redbull and wearing bags under her eyes. The Lalondes mourned lost mothers and walked quickly past bars, and Dave still couldn’t look Dirk in the eye without flinching, and they were all of them a little uncomfortable with each other, a little too aware of how like much everyone resembled some lost parent or dead guardian. Jane had her dad, but Dirk knew it wasn’t the same. There were some things so painful it became an act of trauma to speak it out loud.

Dirk remembers a lot of things, from that initial period of settlement, when they were learning how to be people instead of gods.

He remembers Jane turning up on his doorstep with a sleeping bag and a pillow, exhausted, tear tracks under her eyes, asking to sleep over because she couldn’t spend another night in the same house where she’d lived under threat of attack for thirteen years and six months. He remembers getting her settled on the couch in his living room, awkwardly trying to make her take the bed, and her refusing stubbornly because she “didn’t want to inconvenience him any more than she already had.” He remembers having a panic attack and locking himself in the bathroom before calling Roxy, demanding answers, demanding her to tell him what to do, how to deal with this, why anybody thought he was the person to go to for help--

He remembers Roxy turning up half an hour later with her own sleeping bag, and Jake in tow. Jake and Dirk hadn’t spoken in God knows how long, then, but it didn’t matter, because Jane was crying in a sleeping bag on his couch and that meant not a single other fact in the whole fucking world mattered one goddamn whit.

Dirk wonders who John went to, when he woke up screaming. If he woke up screaming.

He remembers that John doesn’t just come from a different universe than everyone else in the world, than Dirk and his friends. John comes from a different timeline. John’s friends have had two years, from their perspective, to learn how to be without him.

If Dirk were a braver person, he’d ask what that felt like.

If Dirk were a much braver person, he’d ask whether it felt good.

Instead, Dirk says, “Do you want to get food?”

John says, “Yeah, that’d be okay, I guess.”

It’s the closest any of them get to an epilogue.

5. Do NOT ask whether or not your midnight McDonald’s run is a date. (But if you do, like, be cool about it.)

They roll up to the McDonald’s around 11:30. Dirk is all for getting drive-thru and hitting the freeway again, but John wants to stretch his legs. They’ve been driving for close to eight hours, at this point, and nothing about the road is even remotely familiar. Dirk’s stopped keeping track of which turns they take, which exits, which back roads. They’re trying to get lost, and they’re well on their way.

John gets three hamburgers and eats two without stopping for breath. Dirk orders a carton of fries and a vanilla milkshake, which John makes fun of him for, but Dirk had accepted this eventuality beforehand.

The red leather of the booth they sit in is sticky, and there are stains on the table. Dirk counts the number of health code violations to distract himself from wondering whether or not this qualifies as a date, because it doesn’t, probably, and even if it did, that didn’t make it mean anything, or at least that didn’t make it mean anything to John. When he finishes health code violations, he starts on the ceiling tiles.

John steals one of his fries, and he’s a millisecond too late to bat his hand away.

“You should get something else,” John says, through a mouthful of fry. “You get crabby when you’re hungry.”

“I’m always crabby.”

“Then fuckin’ eat something, dude, that’s what I’m saying.”

Dirk nudges his glasses up his nose and takes a sip of milkshake. “I don’t require anything else,” he says, instead of answering.

“Whatever,” John mutters under his breath, in a way that makes clear how weird he finds this response, and redirects his attention to his third burger.

Dirk fidgets with his straw. The grease has pooled at the bottom of his french fry carton. It glistens under the fluorescents. John’s hair is lanky from not having been washed in two days, and there’s a smudge on the lense of one of his glasses. Dirk watches him stuff a third of a burger in his mouth.

“Hey, so,” says Dirk, before the part of his brain in charge of not saying astonishingly embarrassing shit catches up to his mouth. “Is this, like, a date?”

John pauses, chews, and then swallows.

“Um,” he says. “Do you want it to be a date?”

Dirk panics. This is the worst possible thing that John could have said. Not only is it not an answer, but it is the kind of non-answer which lobs the ball directly into Dirk’s court, making Dirk the one in charge of making the first move, and oh, this is awful. This is really, incredibly, exquisitely bad.

“I don’t know.”

John lifts an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

“I meant -- yeah,” Dirk says weakly.

“Wait, so you do?”

“Do what?”

“Want this to be a date.”

“What did I say?”

“Are you really this bad at this,” John says, grinning, “or do you have to, like, try?”

“Hey, fuck off,” Dirk says, overwhelmed by relief at the change of subject. “Between the two of us, only one has actually dated.”

“You don’t know that,” John says, offended. “For all you know, I was hooking up with Dave sprite twenty-four sev, on that ship.”

“Davesprite has higher standards than that.”

“But you don’t?”

“John, we’ve established that mocking my taste is low-hanging fruit, in terms of comedy,” Dirk says. “It’s like writing a film school dissertation on Paul Blart: Mall Cop. I mean, you could, but where’s the sophistication? Where’s the talent?”

“Heh,” John chuckles. “Low-hanging fruit.”

“Oh, I get it. It’s funny because I’m gay.”

“So am I, asshole. I get to make that joke.”

“Oh, I don’t dispute that you get to. I’m baffled that you want to, however.”

“Screw you, I’m hilarious.”

“It is apparent in every element of your personality that you enjoyed Nic Cage movies as a child.”

“And it’s apparent in every element of yours that your favorite book is Fight Club. Your point?”

Dirk splutters, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know what a Fight Club is.”

“Please. I bet you creamed your jeans when you read the part about glycerin.” John takes another bite of his hamburger, smug.

“I don’t have to take this from the guy who uses the phrase ‘cream your jeans’ in casual conversation.”

“I am almost one hundred per cent certain that you have said worse.”

Throughout the course of the conversation, the restaurant has been gradually growing quieter. Not that there are a lot of people there in the first place, of course, but the two or three other groups making midnight junk food runs have fallen into a lull, and the quiet bickering from Dirk and John’s table carries easily. As Dirk gives the room a glance, he notices that the trolls at the table next to them have become completely silent, and they’re both staring.

“Hey,” says the troll to the left, a short greenblood with corkscrew horns. Their eyes grow wide as they lean closer to get a better look. “Hey -- hey, aren’t you John Egbert?”

John stiffens. It’s barely noticeable. He keeps his eyes on his tray.

“Nah,” he says, forcefully bright. “Just got one of those faces, I guess.”

“No, you are,” says the troll, with an aura of revelation. “Hey, Niroxi, look! It’s John Egbert!”

“Hey, back off,” Dirk warns them, but they’re already getting up, craning their necks to try and get a gander at John’s darkening face.

“Are you -- holy shit, I can’t believe this -- what are you doing here?”

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about,” John says, voice strained.

“Are you here to check up on the government? We thought you’d gone off the map! Are Dave and Rose with you? Oh, shit, is Karkat here?”

“Jade says fuck you, too,” Dirk mumbles, and John shoots him a wry look.

“That would be so cool, if Karkat was here! Are he and Dave still a thing? I heard that Dave was dating Jane now, is that true?”

“No,” Dirk exclaims, repulsed. “What on earth--”

Niroxi groans. “You’re being so cringey,” she tells her friend, plaintively. Then, to John, almost shy: “But, like, for real? Are they here, though?”

John struggles to muster a smile. “Nah,” he says. “Just me and Dirk.”

“Dirk?” Her eyes flit to Dirk, who chafes under the attention. She brightens. “Oh,” she says. “Is Jake here, too?”

Dirk’s stomach takes a swan dive deep enough to bury it in the earth’s molten core.

“Nope,” he manages. “Nah, he, uh. I don’t know where Jake is.”

“Really? Told you,” Niroxi tells her friend matter-of-factly.

“You didn’t tell me shit. They’re on a break, it doesn’t--”

“Yeah? Like you’d know. You get your information from the Alternian Weekly.”

“It’s a good site!”

“The Alternian Weekly predicted that Kanaya and Rose would get divorced.”

“And the jury’s still out on that! Didn’t you see the photos? Rose wasn’t wearing her wedding ring at Target last week.”

“You can’t see her hand in the photo, that doesn’t mean anything--”

“And Kanaya and Terezi have been pretty chummy, lately, don’t you think?”

“Like Terezi would ever be into someone that wasn’t John,” Niroxi says, rolling her eyes, and John cringes. Dirk wonders how Terezi would react to that, if she were here. She’d probably laugh. Then she’d punch them.

Dirk isn’t great at doing either. So he does what he can.

“Come on,” Dirk says, standing up.

John tries to ignore the frenzied whispering of the table next to them. “You haven’t finished,” he says, in the carefully moderated tone of someone just barely keeping a lid on their shit.

“I have unless I want to be shitting water tomorrow. Come on.”

“You are literally so fucking gross,” John says gratefully, shoving back his chair.

They’re walking when they leave the McDonald’s. By the time the Maserati is in view, they’re runnin.

Dirk guns the engine as they leave, putting a family of goggling carapacians in their rearview.

6. Keep driving, and don’t talk about it.

They make it two towns over without saying a word. John picks the music, but after two songs, he turns it off, perhaps more comfortable with silence than the obnoxious country-pop blend that local radio stations seem to prefer.

Dirk, meanwhile, wages war with himself.

If it were Dirk, he wouldn’t want to talk about it.

On the other hand, it’s not Dirk, and John might want to talk about it.

On the other other hand, it would be excruciatingly awkward to talk about it, and being drop-kicked into that nuanced kind of social entanglement might actually kill Dirk on the spot. His heart would go into cardiac arrest and he’d die at the wheel. And then who would be driving the car? Nobody, that’s who. He’d die a Heroic Death, trying to get John Egbert to open up about his fucking feelings.

On the other other other hand, Dirk’s been informed that talking about things is healthier than not talking about it. So there’s that.

On the fourth other hand, Dirk’s not really familiar with the general concept of a healthy coping mechanism, and if John asked him for advice, he would have exactly jack shit to offer.

As it turns out, this debate is meaningless, because it’s John who speaks first.

“I was kind of immature back there,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry.”

“What?” Dirk stares ahead owlishly.

“Immature,” John repeats. “I shouldn’t have bailed like that. They were just kids.”

They soar past twin rows of wheat fields. A small town appears on the horizon.

“We’re just kids,” Dirk says, attempting to sound reasonable.

John snorts.

The town grows closer. It unveils the silhouettes of wide, boxy warehouses and tall, peeling billboards.

“We are,” Dirk says, frowning.

“Uh-huh,” John says. “Okay.”

“Why do you think we’re not?”

“I hate to break it to you, my guy, but whatever you think passes for ‘regular kid,’ we ain’t it.”

“I don’t mean that we’re perfectly normal,” Dirk argues, uncertain of why his voice is rising all of a sudden, “but we’re still . . . you don’t have to take that kind of treatment.”

“Yeah, I do,” John said, and his voice is centuries old. His voice has cracks, crumbling pillars, smooth facets weathered silken by time. His voice is age itself. His voice is the ghost of a dead universe, and it echoes, hollow as the cavity of an open grave.

“You don’t,” Dirk says, and his voice is small, petulant.

“I’m their god. I can’t just tell them to fuck off.”

“Sure you can,” Dirk says sharply. “It’s easy. It goes like this: ‘I’m on a date. Fuck off.’”

“I’m not going to be a dick to them.”

“They were being dicks to you.”

“They’re kids,” John cries. “How do you not -- I made their universe! Me and Jade and Rose and -- what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Not let them walk all over you!”

“I’m not -- I don’t --”

“You deserve to get to be normal,” Dirk insisted, and he’s never sure of anything in his life, except for this. Except for the lone, simple, absolutely unshakeable fact that John get to be a kid, if he wants. He doesn’t even know why he’s so angry about it, but he is. “You are. You sure as fuck didn’t get to be, back in -- back when you were younger. But now--”

“Yeah,” John says bitingly. “Normal. Yeah, sure, Dirk.”

“Normal enough.”

“Normal enough? What the fuck does that mean? Normal enough.”

“Even underneath all the Game bullshit.”

It’s the first time either of them have mentioned it. Ever, in Dirk’s case.

Dirk says, “You still get to be normal.”

Because Dirk can’t be. Dirk can’t and won’t and will never be normal, not with how his brain works, not with what he’s seen. Dirk was born in a dead world, a world underwater, and he was raised to survive in a universe that doesn’t exist anymore, and everything about him reflects that fact. There’s no hope, for him. He can’t be the person this universe expects him to be, the person who could live in this universe, and that’s fine. Dirk’s made his peace with that.

But John can be. And it makes Dirk unfathomably fucking angry, to think that maybe, after all, he can’t. Maybe the one of them -- the only one who could, the only one who might, after everything that happened, be capable; the one who wasn’t dating an alien or raised by an alien empress or or fused with a primordial deity in the form of a dog -- couldn’t have a normal life, after all. Maybe none of them got to go back. Maybe all of them were out of place.

That was the bitch about winning, in retrospect. It wasn’t game over. It was a new game.

“Pull over,” John says suddenly.

The briskness of this command startles Dirk, makes him swerve. “What,” he says. “No. Why?”

“Do it.”

“Why?”

“Do it.”

Dirk hangs a left in the nearest intersection and pulls them into a sparsely populated parking lot, sitting beside a giant vacated warehouse. The street is empty. The only cars there are old, probably out of use, maybe even abandoned.

John takes deep breaths.

“Normal,” he says acidly.

“Yeah.” Dirk says it stoutly, emphatically. “You know. Normal.”

John lifts his hands, and every car in the parking lot rises into the air.

The sound of two dozen vehicles groaning and clattering off the ground, in conjunction with the shriek of the gale necessary to lift them, deafens. It choruses. It howls. The cars rise and hover at ten feet, most of them, with the lighter ones drifting higher and the heavier sitting at seven or eight feet each. The wind tears through the flypaper and rubbish littering the parking lot, tossing it up in small cyclones of whirling trash. It makes the trees writhe. It shakes the Maserati, but doesn’t touch it, doesn’t lift it; they sit in the eye of the storm.

Above, storm clouds start to circle and congeal. The wispy tufts of cirrus that had been drifting over the horizon blacken as if someone tipped over an inkpot in a bed of cotton. Flickers of lightning fork down to the east.

The lines of John’s muscles are rigid. A tic in his jaw is the only sign this is costing him any effort at all.

After a minute, the storm starts to calm. The cars lower gradually to the ground, settling gently in the same places they were. The wind quiets, and then Dirk can hear himself think again. John lowers his hands, hesitant, and then puts them in his lap.

But in a way, it’s much worse, now, with everything still. There’s room for the silence to move in again.

Dirk says, “Shit’s up and fucked, huh.”

John laughs wetly. “Shit’s up and fucked,” he confirms.

“I mean,” Dirk says, “you get to pull that kind of wizardly fuckery at the drop of the hat, and here I am over here, fuckin’ Prince of Heart bullshit. What am I supposed to do? Therapize you to fuckin’ death? Fuckin’ Captain Planet-ass bullshit. ‘Heart.’ Jade gets to play pinball with planets, Dave’s over here Groundhog Daying it every time he fucks up, who the fuck even knows what Jake can do, it sure as fuck ain’t Jake, and Roxy can just make shit. Make it! I mean, fuck the Law of Conservation of Matter, am I right? Let’s let her just magick stuff out of thin fuckin’ -- oh, the blond one? Oh, oh, that one? Yeah, toss him, fuckin’, uhhhhh, I dunno, what’s left -- Heart. Prince of Heart, yeah that sounds good. The one that destroys shit, that’s cool, right? What can he do? Shit, man, like, feel really bad about himself, probably? Be depressed? Yeah, that works, great. Cool. We’ve got Witch of Space, Knight of Time, Page of Hope, Heir of Breath, and Depression Man. Dope. Now there’s a lineup I can get behind. Put a ‘case closed’ stamp on that motherfucker, we’re ready to run a session.”

John cracks a smile.

“Gimme a goddamn refund,” Dirk huffs, “that’s all I gotta say. You see how that troll chick didn’t even fucking recognize me? I am the fucking -- I’m not even important enough to get recognized at a McDonald’s. You know that if Roxy had seen that, she’d have eviscerated me on the spot. ‘Prince of Heart.’ Eat my ass, Jesus Christ.”

John giggles. It’s kind of stifled by the lump in his throat.

They look at each other.

John reaches across the armrest and gently punches him in the shoulder. By John’s standards, it’s practically a caress.

In a movie, this would be the part where Dirk kissed him, and John would kiss him back, and everything would be okay.

But Dirk doesn’t kiss him. Instead, he looks out the driver’s window, so that when John cries, he can do it in privacy.

By and by, John clears his throat and scrubs a hand across his face. “Um,” he says. “So I think I broke some guy’s Chevy. We should probably get going.”

“Yeah.” Dirk shifts the car into drive, and the engine thrums. “Where to?”

“I dunno. You wanna head east?”

“That’s fine with me.”

“I heard there was some cool tourist shit out -- hey,” says John, squinting across the street. “Is that an arcade?”

7. Get him the shitty bunny rabbit.

John breaks the lock on the arcade with ease. It’s abandoned, with white sheets tossed over most of the bulky, box-shaped consoles and dust lining the whole place in a thin film, but when Dirk steals some tokens from behind the counter and slots one into the nearest machine, the lights fire up just fine. They fuck around for a little bit with Dance Dance Revolution -- John beats Dirk eight games to one, and that one was when Dirk dared him to do all the moves with one foot -- and then burn tokens on Donkey Kong and Pac-Man. John has to teach Dirk how to play Frogger. Dirk is so bad at it that John wonders aloud whether Dirk actually derives some sick pleasure from killing frogs. John skunks Dirk blind at skee ball, but then Dirk gets him back by climbing up and removing the grate over the holes, and then they spend the rest of the hour lobbing skee balls overhand at the target without much regard for the score.

After an hour or two, they get bored of this, and pass a claw grab machine holding a pile of decaying plushes. Atop the pile sits an abomination in the form of a rabbit. The thing looks like what would happen if you asked someone who’d never seen a rabbit before to design one, except the only reference you gave them was the transcript of a Looney Tunes cartoon. The bulbous, uncanny-valley proportions of the head emphasize the oblong pear shape of the body, and the tail is a limp tuft of stringy cotton. The ears are tattered and the fur on them is clumped and tufted. The animal itself is a weird shade of bluish grey that probably came from using cheap dye for the fur. Beady black eyes glint from either side of a button nose, imbued with a legitimately chilling malevolence.

“That is the ugliest piece of shit bunny I have ever seen in my life,” John breathes, his nose against the glass. “I need it.”

Dirk wanders over, his hands in his pockets. “They’re rigged, you know,” he says. “The machines. You can’t win them.”

“Dude. Dude. Look at me. Look at me, though? I don’t care. I need it.”

“We can buy you a bunny rabbit, if you want one.”

“No, you misunderstand. I don’t want any rabbit. I want that rabbit. Specifically.”

“. . . Okay.”

John wastes somewhere between forty and fifty tokens trying to get the claw machine to give him the bunny. He gets close to success several times, often getting so far as to actually grab the bunny within the prongs of the thing’s obstinately clumsy claw, before it slips out in the millisecond before being deposited in the box. Dirk watches John cycle through the five stages of grief not once, not twice, but every single time this happens, and then watches John recover and try again with unflagging determination. It would be endearing if it were not also making Dirk feel slightly deranged, just watching it.

Finally, John runs out of tokens, and steps back from the machine with a mournful look. “It’s hopeless,” he said.

“Oh, no. If only there were someone who could have told you that.”

“It’s not my fault! I got so close!”

“I know.”

“Guess I’ll just have to do without it,” John mutters. He hangs his head with exaggerated despair. “No bunny rabbit for me.”

He ruins the effect by sneaking a glance up at Dirk.

Dirk heaves a long, put-upon sigh, and draws a token out of his pocket.

“Yes!” John pumps the air, giving Dirk space to assume control of the joystick. “Oh, man, if you nail this, I’ll owe you forever. I’ll even stop making fun of your tattoo. Actually, I take that back. I’ll stop making fun of your hair. Tattoo’s still fair game.”

“The longer you keep talking, the less likely I am to try.”

John ignores this. “You gotta wait for the right moment,” he advises. “It likes to stall sometimes, so you have to jigger it to work. And the joystick is sticky in the lower right corner, so you can’t use it. But aside from that, you should be okay.”

Dirk slips the token into the slot. It chugs for a moment, waiting, and then the screen brightens, the claw stirring.

John is right about the stalling and the sticky patch on the control pad. Dirk wastes three tries on the damn thing before getting aggravated.

“Cool,” he says thinly. “Cool cool cool. Hey, Egbert, do you have any particular qualms about how you get the damn rabbit?”

“Uh,” says John, “no?”

“Good.”

Dirk decaptchalogues Lil Seb into the palm of his hand. The small robot’s red eyes glaze as he boots up.

“You see that rabbit?” he asks it.

Lil Seb directs his attention to the glass, and nods. If he is offended by this obvious caricature of one of his kin, he does not show it. That’s the great part about Lil Seb. He’s a chill motherfucker.

“Get it for me,” Dirk orders, and then slides Lil Seb through the flap at the bottom machine, into the pickup trough where prizes fall for collection.

John lifts his eyebrows. “I think that’s cheating,” he says, but he doesn’t sound upset about it.

Lil Seb climbs up the chute into the main prize pit easily, scaling the mountain of plushies like a man on a mission to the peak of goddamn Everest. He seizes the ugly rabbit by the ears and hauls it down with him, leaping neatly into the prize chute and tumbling back into the trough with a clatter. Dirk reaches in and pulls out both bunnies, captchaloguing the metal one and keeping the much sought-after abomination.

“There,” he says, with more satisfaction than he’s proud of.

He holds out the prize.John beams at him like he’s offering John the damn Genesis Frog, face warm, eyes sparkling. Dirk’s fingers dig into the bunny, frozen, and his breath stalls a little bit.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

They both turn. A burly, balding man stands in the door of the arcade, a ring of keys in his hand, frozen in the act of opening the door.

A katana falls out of Dirk’s sylladex, on instinct.

“I’m gonna call the police,” the owner snarls, but before he can continue, John lets out a long groan, squares his shoulders, and with a snap of his wrist, flings two thousand newtons of raw windspeed directly into the owner’s face.

The sudden gale inside the arcade sends the man sailing out the door, flying backwards until he tumbles to a halt a hundred feet from the building. He’s still moving when he hits the ground, stirring, but clearly incapacitated. The Breeze tears the inside of the room apart, sending papers scattering in a flurry of white and lifting the dust into tiny whorls. Wind rakes through Dirk’s hair and ruffles his clothes. Blue lights snap and spark over John’s frame, especially his fist, and even as the tiny storm is calming, his eyes have a vivid, uncanny brightness.

They’re not human eyes. Not anymore.

Dirk looks down at the bunny in his hands. He wonders if he could pull the man’s soul out, if he tried. His powers aren’t the kind of thing you can do on a whim.

“C’mon,” John says. “Let’s get out of here.”

When they leave the arcade, the man is still struggling to pick himself up off the street. He shouts after them when he notices them going:

“What the fuck are you?”

Out of spite, John flicks his fingers at him. The wind blast shoots a nearby trash bin clear off its foundations and hurtling directly at the owner. Whatever the man’s next words were going to be are muffled by the sound of him taking a full trash can straight to the mouth.

“Hot,” says Dirk, and John snorts.

They make it out of range of the arcade. The Mississippi runs alongside the town, its thunderous rush dwarfing the sounds of the city and the road the nearer they draw to it. As they’re walking away, Dirk hands the bunny to John.

“Here,” he says, holding out the tiny plush. “This is for you.”

“Thanks,” says John, sounding almost genuinely surprised, and then lifts it high above his head, reenacting the Lion King. “I’m going to call him Liv Tyler.”

“Isn’t Liv a girl’s name.”

“Open your mind, Dirk, jeez. We live in the twenty-fifth century.”

“Just saying.”

“Just saying what?”

“You already have a kid called Liv Tyler. Gonna give your son a complex, using the same name twice.”

“I take it back. His name is Dirk Strider The Killjoy, Who Hates Fun And Also Happiness.”

“Junior.”

“Junior,” John agrees, and tosses an arm around Dirk’s shoulders. “Thanks.”

They wander down to the river, where the sandy bank is littered with old beer bottles and plastic wrappers and the remnants of picnics past. In between the reeds, they find a hollow where the grass has been flattened and sit down in it. The evening slips into twilight peacefully, drawing long shadows on the grass, and the trees form black inkstains against the ochre sky. The river turns the color of fire, reflecting the horizon.

John says, “This is kind of, like, beautiful and shit, dude.”

Dirk says, “Did you know that the sky is that color because of air pollution?”

“Yeah, I did. Do you have any other slogans from Hot Topic to share with the class?”

“I don’t know what Hot Topic is.”

“That is honestly more tragic than, like, literally any other part of our lives.”

Dirk finds a piece of copper wire in the rubbish on the bank and starts twisting it into knots. John lies back on his hands, the bunny perched safely in his lap, and sighs with contentment.

“It was really cool when you wasted that guy,” Dirk says, for lack of anything better.

“Yeah? Thanks, man. Guy was being a dick.”

“Agreed. To be fair, we were trespassing.”

“Trespassing shrespassing,” John snorts. “This whole universe comes from some frog Jade found in her backyard. Everything in it is her property, technically, and so also my property, by genetics, technically.”

“You are the legal genius this generation needs. Somewhere, Terezi is weeping tears of joy.”

“You think I don’t know? I didn’t play the Ace Attorney series seventeen times for nothing.”

“Oh, man. I had no idea I was sitting next to an Ace Attorney master.”

“I know. It’s overwhelming. You can take a minute, if you need it.”

“You really are brains, brawn, and beauty of this relationship, Egbert,” Dirk deadpans. “Such a great burden for one man to bear.”

“Yeah, well, someone has to pull your weight, don’t they?”

Dirk bites down on a smile.

John leans over, close enough that Dirk’s breath fogs the lenses of his glasses, sealing a coat of white over those enormous, ridiculous, ocean blue eyes. John isn’t touching Dirk, but he’s not touching him in a way that almost feels like touching, in how obvious it is, in how it makes clear that they could be touching, if Dirk tried, if John tried, if either of them tried.

They’re breathing the same air, sharing the oxygen that lives in the half-inch of space between their lips, when Dirk says, “Wait,” and John pulls back, his expression all twisted up and fearful like he thinks he’s gotten everything about this wrong, and Dirk panics a little bit.

“It’s not you,” he says (shouts). “It’s just -- it’s not -- I don’t not want -- I don’t -- I do, but I can’t just -- and not --”

“Dirk --”

“I wish I wasn’t like this,” Dirk says (whispers). “I wish I wasn’t fucking like this.”

John’s expression clears. “It’s okay,” he says gently. “We don’t have to, uh. If you don’t . . .”

“I do want to.”

John tilts his head. “Um,” he says. “Okay.”

He wants an explanation, of course he does, and the thing is that Dirk wants to give it to him. He really, really wants to give it to him. But he can’t.

John seems to realize this, because he scoots back, putting a good foot of space between them. With John farther away, it’s easier for Dirk to focus. It’s easier for him to think.

He opens his mouth, and he waits for the words to come.

8. When he tries to kiss you, tell him about your ex.

“Do you ever feel,” starts Dirk, and stops.

“Maybe I just,” starts Dirk, and stops.

“Sometimes,” starts Dirk, and stops.

The river flows past, wide and deep and fast enough to kill you before you realized you were drowning. Dirk lived on a tower with an ocean beneath his bedroom window and on some days he’d sit on the ledge, his feet eighty meters from oblivion, his face against the wind, thinking about what would happen if he leaned forward and let go. Sometimes it would take hours to convince himself he’d even hit the water -- that he wouldn’t just drift up into the sky, like a piece of flypaper borne on the back of the wind, and find another world waiting for him beyond the ceiling of stars.

“I have a hole,” he says.

John smirks. Dirk ignores him.

“It’s a hole in -- in the thing that keeps you together. Whatever that is. The thing that Roxy and Jane and Jake all have. I don’t know what you call it. It’s the thing that keeps the parts of a person together. Take Roxy, for example. Roxy doesn’t have to worry about whether or not whatever she does is going to be in character for Roxy, because Roxy’s the one who’s doing it. She doesn’t have to worry about whether or not she’s acting like a person, because she already knows she’s a person, so whatever she does is something a person would do. Or Jane, she -- Jane doesn’t have to think about why she’s doing something. Jane just does things because she does them. She doesn’t worry about doing something because she’s manipulated herself into doing it, or because she’s manipulated someone else into manipulating her into doing it, or because an elaborate configuration of circumstances conspired to create the specific conditions under which she would do it. She just fucking does it. And Jake -- Jake just does shit, too, he doesn’t need a rhyme or reason for it, he’s just him. They’re all people. They’ve got personalities and ideas and thoughts and they’re people, regular people, and they’re not perfect people, sure, but they’re people. And each one of them is held together by something. They’ve got a set of things that they believe in, or things that they are, or things that they do, and those things are them. I don’t . . . have that.

“I’ve got a hole in the thing that holds me together. And sometimes, I’ll just be doing shit, and I’ll think about that hole. And I’ll think about how much of me is just shit I do because other people like it when I do it, or because I think doing it will make other people like me, or because I’ve tricked myself into thinking I like it when I really don’t, assuming that I’m capable of liking anything at all. And when I was dating Jake, that was all I could think about, all the time, even when it was good, assuming it was ever fucking good for either of us -- ‘what if this isn’t real, what if you’ve dreamed this all up because you think you’re supposed to have a boyfriend, what if you don’t like him at all, what if he doesn’t like you, what if you’ve made yourself the kind of person Jake English likes instead of whatever the fuck you actually are.’ And when I think about you, I get the same kind of worries, like -- what if I like you so much I started being the kind of person I thought you’d like? What if the only reason you like me is because I tried so hard to be liked? I’d say that I was worried you didn’t like the real me, but that isn’t it. I don’t think the ‘real me’ exists, really. That’s the problem.

“So I guess what I’m saying is I’m not a person. Sometimes I act like a person and talk like a person and think like a person, but I’ve got a hole in the thing that’s supposed to hold people together, and I can’t sew it back up again. I’m not who you think I am. I’m a copy of a person that’s really good at making other people think it’s real.”

The river runs by, and he wants to be like the water. He wants to keep going and going and going, without cause or expectation of pause, until he hits something bigger than he is, and gets absorbed into it. Dirk has never wanted anything so much as not to exist -- not to die, but not to exist. It’s a quieter thing.

John says, “You are really kind of dumb, dude.”

Dirk’s neck hurts from how fast his head snaps around. “What?”

“I mean,” John amends, “that sucks, but you’re not, like, the only person who ever felt like they were faking it. And no offense, but you couldn’t manipulate your way out of a paper bag. I don’t think I like you because you’ve pulled some nefarious supervillain kind of shit, you know?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Dirk says, frustrated.

“No, yeah, I get what you meant. And I wanna make it obvious that, like, I don’t . . . not care? I do. It’s shitty, and it sounds like you could use some good counseling. But dude, I’m not looking for your hand in marriage, here. I just wanna eat chips and watch shitty movies and make out sometimes, and also maybe do more than that, if you’re into it. Or not, if you’re not into it. Cards on the table, I didn’t actually think I’d get this far.” John laughs a little. “The fact that you get so worked up about being like . . . the real you, or whatever? It makes me think I probably know exactly who you are after all.”

“Which is what?” Dirk can barely breathe.

“An idiot,” John says, with conviction. “But an idiot that I want to make out with, so I guess that makes me even more of an idiot, really.”

“Who’s more the fool,” Dirk quips, still dazed. “The fool, or the fool who wants to do butt stuff with him?”

“Oh my God, shut up. I’m never kissing you, actually. Ever.”

“That’s not true,” Dirk counters, with a feeble spark of confidence. “You said you wanted to make out with me.”

“That was before you talked about sex as ‘butt stuff.’ I’m taking it back. R.I.P., my libido. You had a good run, old buddy.”

“What’s wrong with butt stuff?”

“Stop saying that! Stop saying butt stuff!”

“Does it bother you?”

“Yes! I -- you are literally so aggravating.”

“You like it,” Dirk says, hazarding a guess.

“Asshole,” John grumbles. “You owe me, like, five makeouts for that alone.”

“I can do that,” Dirk agrees, now thoroughly bemused. Absolutely nothing in this conversation has gone the way he thought it would. He’s not unhappy about it.

“Five makeouts and my pick of movies.”

“Six makeouts, and I’ll drive the rest of the way.”

“Fine. But no more SBAHJ.”

“Shake on it,” Dirk says stoically, offering his hand.

John rolls his eyes and says, “Nerd,” before leaning in to kiss him.

This time, Dirk doesn’t pull away. The river runs by, and he doesn’t want to be anything but the creature living in Dirk Strider’s skin, anything but the person that John Egbert is kissing. It’s a new feeling. He likes it. He thinks he could live like this for a while.

Orphen 2020 looks great!

((Hee ho doods, Prinnyfrost reporting for duty!

First, I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. I hope this year has been a good one to you and if not, then hopefully things won’t get completely terrible in the future. We ARE about to enter a new decade after all. In the meantime, how about what we share what we got for gifts for the holiday?

I finally got a new phone which is good because apparently it was so outdated, the guy at the first store we went to get the new ones kinda laughed a little bit and sighed. That’s how I know my phone was pretty much ancient.

I have been enjoying it so far by pretty much just playing Pokemon Masters and Digimon Re:Arise. I’m enjoying them so far, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it starts to fade at some point like other mobile games I’ve played. At least now I’ve completed the trifecta of childhood with the inclusion of Yugioh Duel Links on my tablet.

I also got the new Mario and Sonic game for the Switch. I’m enjoying it so far as well, but I have been having troubles with some of the timings of the buttons in certain mini games. I hope it’s not an actual delay on the button pushing in the games or we may have some problems.

Finally, my brother decided to get me more Orphen, like he did last year. This time, he ended up getting me the first 2 volumes of the rebooted series that’s supposed to get an anime sometime next year,

and after reading the manga, my hype for it just changed from manageable into overdrive! No joke, I’m really looking forward to the return of this series and hoping it’ll gain recognition. So, I figured it might be fun to talk about what I’ve read and the changes from it and the original series.

Something to keep in mind, this will contain spoilers from both the original and the remake, so if you want to read it for yourself first or wait for the anime to come out and watch it, then I’d advise avoiding the rest of this post. For those who don’t care, let’s get started.

We start off with Orphen dreaming about his childhood at the Tower of Fang with his best friend, Azalie. Yeah, in this story, they’re close friends instead of adoptive siblings, which is something I found odd because this was one of the changes in the original Orphen anime, while in the original manga, they consider each other as siblings even though they’re not related by blood.

He’s soon woken up by Volcan and Dortin, who are pretty much the same as they were before except possibly one little detail. I could be wrong about this, but I think in the original story, the two of them ran away from home together (most likely Volcan’s idea), but in this story, it’s revealed that the two brothers were not only disowned by their family, but also exiled out of their home. It’s not explained why, but I do believe it’s most likely Volcan’s doing. Anyway, they wake him up in order to get him involved with some crazy scheme to pay of their debts,

because it worked so well the last time. The plan is to disguise Orphen as a successful business owner (even though he’s actually a money loaner), and take part of a marriage interview to get hitched to Mariabella Everlasting.

For those who might not remember, Mariabella is Cleo’s calm and kindhearted older sister. Now I do remember in the original manga that Orphen was asked to marry her and Cleo was on board with it, but he refused. The plan was busted when Cleo eavesdropped on Ophen, Volcan, and Dortin’s conversation while they were alone in another room, but she didn’t turn them in right away as she got curious of their true motives. That is until they were attacked by the Bloody August, the dragon monster that Azalie turns into after a failed experiment with the sword of baltanders. I’ll be honest, when I first saw it,it was a bit unsettling for me. Not because it was scary, but because it looks well...

like that which reminds me a bit of...

yeah...and it gets worse considering what happens near the end of the second volume. It did leave without anyone getting harmed, but Orphen, Volcan, and Dortin are still arrested for fraud, vandalism, and a few other fines, most likely property damage and attempted theft. They spent 3 nights there until Cleo comes to bail them out in exchange to protect her family as they’re being targeted for assassination. Orphen agrees and then returns to the pub where Magnus and his father runs in order to recover more, which i where it’s revealed that unlike in the original where Magnus has at least a few lessons under his belt, here Orphen never accepted him as a student until he made the offer for it. And this is pretty much the only amount of screen time he’s getting until the end of the next volume. Sucks, huh? They went back to the Everlasting household in order to find the sword of baltanders...

only to find out that they have more swords than in Yosuke’s hall closet, which would make finding the darn thing like finding a needle in a haystack. Then when they come outside for a bit, they run into the black tiger, which is still being portrayed by Hartia (and yes, he’s still called “shrimp”) and well it’s time for another compare and contrast.

This is what Hartia’s Black Tiger costume looks like in the original series, both in the anime and in the manga.

And this is what it looks like now. It’s kind of the same with him riding on some ox or bull, and with his shirt, but the folds on the cape are gone, part of his face is out and he has a fake beard now. To me personally, it looks goofier than the original costume, which arguably works better, considering it’s Hartia we’re talking about, but I do like the original costume more for the more dangerous and mysterious vibes it’s meant to give off, only to be foiled in the end by not being taken seriously. The new scythe does look pretty cool though. I want one. After fighting him a bit, he discovers that he’s just a decoy and heads back inside to find another assassin who is indeed Childman. Now Childman’s new design is something I feel a bit off about. When people saw the new anime trailer, they mentioned how younger he looks compared to before, which I don’t really see. He looks the same age to me and even so, he’s not even that old. He’s only in his early twenties. Childman on the other hand looks kind of younger yet older at the same time? I don’t know.

This is what Childman looks like in the original series,

And this is what he looks like now (person on the left). He kinda looks like this series version of All Might after he used too much of his powers. I showed this to my brother and he said it makes sense for him since he’s not all buff like before, but I don’t know. What do you guys think? So anyway, the two fight and I gotta say, I felt a surge of nostalgia after seeing the return of some of the spells like Sword of Light, Halo Armor, and even the Sword of the Fallen Devil! I’m not joking! Childman leaves, which resulted in Orphen saving Mariabella and Orphen goes to the Tower of Fang to have a little chat with Hartia. Something else I should point out, it’s been revealed in this story that while they are among the top schools in magic, it’s in fact not the only one. From the looks of it, there’s likely one in every continent, which makes me wonder if we’re going to see different categories of spells at some point. In the original manga, Magnus explains that voice magic is what they’re teaching at the Tower of Fang and it’s divided into two subcategories, Dark magic, which allows the user to control the elements around them, and white magic which controls the body, soul, and even time itself. Like I pointed out in my Orphen and Shantae crossover, pretty much anyone can learn dark magic no problem, but white magic is some seriously powerful stuff not to be taken for granted and Azalie excels in both. Speaking of voice magic, Orphen explains that you don’t really need to shout the exact name of the spell you’re using, just some focus and access to, well your voice. So if we ever do end up getting a new game from this reboot, I’m hoping for an option to include our own preferred shouts for spells.

I’m totally going to yell “Persona” for one of the elemental spirit spells. Anyway, after Orphen’s little conversation with Hartia (which went sour by the way), he goes to look for Cleo, Volcan, and Dortin who took off while they were waiting on him. Turns out, they decided to go eat, and after a while, Hartia shows up to cause havoc again, but Cleo steps in and fights him in a duel until Orphen shows up. Now let me just say this one thing about the new Cleo...

I know it’s still the first volume, so things might change latter on, but right now I gotta say, I FUCKING LOVE CLEO!!! While she still has her rage and mischievous moments, instead of the annoying spoiled brat from before, this Cleo is more sweet, energetic, and potentially bad-ass. She genuinely wants to help Orphen out because it’s the nice thing to do and instead of before where she may have but a little experience with a sword despite her aggressive attitude, here Cleo has actually learned how to use a sword at school and is the starter member in the club she’s in. When I first read that I couldn’t help but think that’s probably why her father got her the sword of Baltanders for Cleo’s 18th birthday in this version as she’s an actual decent sword fighter and is willing to trust his daughter to be mature enough one day to look after it, but no. It’s revealed in the next volume that Childman left it in her father’s care for safe keeping. And speaking of the sword itself, it’s been revealed like in the original manga, that it’s able to cut anyone into anything the user wants, and also that Azalie screwed it up because she got distracted by the pain the blade was causing her (here’s a hint, don’t stab yourself in the chest with it like you’re a spawn of Sparda), but honestly I like the explanation from the anime more, that the sword is incomplete and can’t be wielded properly on its own and even when completed, it could potentially harm the wielder. That makes more sense to me on how even skilled sorcerers wouldn’t be able to handle the sword. With the original story, it kinda creates some plot holes for me. If anyone can use the sword to change anyone to anything they want then... 1. Why didn’t Azalie tell Orphen to use the sword to change her back to normal in case the experiment goes wrong? 2. The Tower of Fang wanted to kill Azalie to get rid of a possible stain on their reputation. Why not just use the sword to turn her back as quick as possible? I get the sword is forbidden, but wouldn’t killing off a student just to cover something up be extremely shady, thus making their reputation seem worse? I mean they had 5 years to do it from the looks of it. 3. I get Childman went along with the plan to hunt down Azalie in order to please the hire ups when he was actually trying to save her. Why not just tell Orphen the location of the sword in secret while no one’s watching, get him to track down Azalie and cut her, thus turning her back to normal? 4. Why doesn’t Childman himself do it in secret? Just explain that he has to go on an important journey or something and remain hidden from the eyes of the higher up sorcerers. 5. I get that Azalie’s mind became more corrupted the longer she remained in the dragon form, but why didn’t she use the sword to turn both Childman and herself back to normal after switching bodies with him, getting the sword, and having their one on one battle with him? Like Orphen said near the end of volume 2, she basically killed Childman. 6. Finally, why not tell Orphen in secret about the body switch and how the sword works in order to turn her and Childman back to normal after switching bodies? Once again, I understand that her mind has been corrupted due to the transformation, but at the end of the second volume, he does show possible hints of guilt and the fact that she didn’t want things to end like it did, so why not turn to the one guy you could trust in secret and explain everything?

Despite this, I find this to be a rather enjoyable read and I can’t wait for the anime release. So until then, happy holidays, and stay safe everyone.))

RTARL’s 2020 NFL Season Week 7 Extravapalooza

With the way the COVID-19 situation in America (and lots of other places around the world) is rapidly heading in the wrong direction, I’m beginning to genuinely wonder if the NFL is going to have to pause the season for a few weeks as some states potentially decide that the gatherings that come with staging a football game are less than necessary. 

Once the league decided to start the season as scheduled, I figured there was no way they’d stop the train once it began lurching forward, even if some unlucky teams were forced to start someone like Brian Hoyer at QB instead of their normal guy. Ahem. But, I also didn’t think things would deteriorate virus-spread wise quite to this degree. I was really giving us as a society way too much credit, it would appear. Given the resistance to the first round of shutdown measures, I think there’s a real possibility that shit could hit the fan in a way few of us have seen before if another batch were implemented, but it seems like the only option going forward for some places if they don’t get their shit together. Our choices in the very near future appear to be: court massive civil unrest spurred on by the very worst among us, or do nothing and let many of those same people carry disease to every corner of the country as hospitals become overwhelmed and people die alone and miserable. Hooray for letting the dumbest assholes dictate the courses of everyone else’s lives. 

Now for some football picks!!!

My picks are in BOLD, and the lines come to us courtesy of our friends at Vegas Insider. I use the “VI Consensus” line, which is the line that occurs most frequently across Vegas Insider’s list of sportsbooks. Your sportsbook of choice may offer a different number, and if you’d like my opinion on said number A) you are insane, and B) leave a comment below and I’ll try to answer at some point before things kickoff today.

EARLY GAMES

Detroit Lions at Atlanta Falcons (-2)

Ah, a team who recently fired their terrible head coach against a team who desperately needs to. I’m glad it finally appears to be dawning on Detroit’s offensive braintrust that D’Andre Swift is the best RB on the team and thus should get the bulk of the touches. You could even say he deserves the LION’S SHARE. Sorry. 

I was ready to declare Matt Ryan officially washed heading into last week’s games, but then he went out and threw for 371 and 4 TDs against the (admittedly trash-ass) Vikings defense, and now I just don’t know. Does having Julio Jones in the lineup really make that much of a difference for him? Maybe! This game should be enjoyable slop and I don’t have any strong leanings one way or another. I’ll pick the Falcons just because a Lions loss gets them one step closer to freedom from their dipshit Goomba-from-Mario-Bros-lookin’ motherfucker of a head coach.

Cleveland Browns (-3.5) at Cincinnati Bengals

I like to make fun of the Browns just like everyone else, but I’d prefer to see less digital ink spilled on QB Baker Mayfield’s crappy play and more celebration of DE Myles Garrett instead. Garrett is AWESOME. Through 6 games he has 7 sacks (2nd in the NFL) and 3 forced fumbles (also 2nd in the league), and those numbers don’t fully capture how disruptive and nightmarish he is for opposing offenses most weeks. Sure, he maybe tried to kill a guy with his helmet last year, but c’mon. That was just a harmless little goof. No reason to hold it against him, in my opinion. Like, have you seen what Mason Rudolph looks like? He had it coming.

I feel bad every time I pick against Joe Burrow because I want he and I to be friends, but *points to previous paragraph about how Myles Garrett swallows planets whole*.

Pittsburgh Steelers at Tennessee Titans (-1.5)

Last week I wrote a whole big thing (with stats to back it up!) in the Titans blurb about how Derrick Henry wasn’t playing well and was potentially wearing down, and then he proceeded to rush for over 200 yards and 2 TDs, including an unreal 94-yarder. I concede that I may have been misguided, and that attempting to use research is for lameass nerds. That said, I HIGHLY doubt he’ll have a huge day against the Steelers defense, but the combo of Henry and the Ryan Tannehill-led passing game should be able to put up enough points to win. 

These teams are both very good and very evenly matched, but I don’t want to pick Pittsburgh because I actively dislike them. You won’t find that kind of analysis on Football Outsiders, friends.

Carolina Panthers at New Orleans Saints (-7)

New Orleans will be without WRs Michael Thomas and Emmanuel Sanders for this one, and I think QB Drew Brees is too far over-the-hill to make chicken salad out of the chicken shit that remains in their group of pass catchers. RB Alvin Kamara is great, but he can’t do it by himself. Oh, and speaking of Michael Thomas, a report came out yesterday that the Saints are open to dealing him. This report came from Mike Florio, so grain of salt and all, but it did lead to me reading a rumor that Thomas’ teammates hate him and secretly call him “Can’t Stand Mike,” a play on his “Can’t Guard Mike” Twitter handle. I found this hilarious and very much want it to be true.

Let’s raise a glass to Panthers backup RB and fantasy football savior Mike Davis, as his gravy train likely comes to a halt after today with the impending return of Christian McCaffery. The New Orleans rush defense is very good, so I don’t see him going out in a blaze of glory, but his out-of-nowhere statistical bonanza deserves to be celebrated.

Buffalo Bills (-10) at New York Jets

LOL Jets Head Coach Adam Gase still hasn’t been fired despite losing 24-0 to Miami last week. What’s it gonna take, I wonder? A second consecutive shutout may do it, but the Bills defense has been terrible, so it’ll take a real commitment to ineptitude for the Jets to put up their second squadoosh in a row. NY QB Sam Darnold is returning to the lineup, but he’s going to be without his best weapon, WR Jamison Crowder. I honestly feel terrible for poor Sam, as he was drafted into the worst situation I can remember. At least David Carr was hit enough that he likely doesn’t remember ALL of the bad stuff. 

Nearly all of the Bills’ TEs are in the COVID-19 protocol, so I’m not sure how they’re gonna address that. BRING BACK JAY RIEMERSMA!

Dallas Cowboys at Washington Football Team (-1)

The Cowboys being underdogs against Washington is hilarious, even more so because it’s justified. I thought QB Andy Dalton would do a decent job leading the Cowboys offense last week against Arizona, and I was very, very wrong. I still think he can get his shit together somewhat, but the ceiling for this team has been lowered to “Darren Sproles might have to duck a bit” height. I can only condone watching this game for schadenfreude purposes, but even that’s stretching it. Any more than a quarter is just straight-up masochism.

Green Bay Packers (-3.5) at Houston Texans

I’m simultaneously excited to watch this game and struggling to come up with anything novel to say about it. I’m interested to see how Green Bay deploys their awesome CB Jaire Alexander, as whichever Texans WR avoids him is likely to be peppered with targets. Shoutout to Will Fuller’s hamstrings for holding up so far and allowing him to kick ass. 

As of right now it looks like Green Bay will be without studly RB Aaron Jones and sexy touchdown beast TE Robert Tonyan, which isn’t great. But, if there’s one opponent where you should still be ok using a backup RB, it’s the Houston Texans and their atrocious rush defense. Wait, why am I picking Houston? Whatever, fuck it, the heart wants what the heart wants.

LATE GAMES

Tampa Bay Buccaneers (-5) at Las Vegas Raiders

A couple of days ago, it looked like the entire Las Vegas offensive line might miss this game due to being placed on the COVID-19/Reserve list. As of this writing, all those beefy boys are cleared to play, which is good news since they’re going against Tampa Bay’s top-shelf defense (ranked #1 in defensive DVOA). Even with their full compliment of offensive personnel, I still predict many hilarious angry and frustrated faces from Jon Gruden.

Tampa Bay has decided to sign WR Antonio Brown, despite already having two Pro Bowl-caliber receivers in Mike Evans and Chris Godwin. It’s pretty clear this signing was done entirely because QB Tom Brady wanted it, as Brady has been pushing for his team to sign Brown going back to last year in New England. It’s so weird, Tom Brady doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would advocate for an emotionally unstable and supremely narcissistic accused rapist who’s left multiple organizations in disarray upon his unceremonious departure.  

Kansas City Chiefs (-7.5) at Denver Broncos

Fuck yeah, our first potential snow game of the year! The gametime forecast as of right now calls for 5-degree windchill temps with a 35-40 percent chance of flakes throughout. That sounds horrible to play in, but glorious to watch. If we don’t get at least one shot of steam rising off of an offensive lineman’s head I’m gonna be pissed. I’m curious to see what Kansas City does with newly acquired RB Le’Veon Bell in this game. He’s definitely played in more winter-weather games than my boy Clyde Edwards-Helaire, so do they give him more carries this week than they would normally? I hope not, but I can definitely see the argument for it.

San Francisco 49ers at New England Patriots (-3)

I’m a little shaken (relatively, I’m not a complete lunatic) by how shitty New England, and Cam Newton in particular, looked against Denver last week. The lack of practice time due to multiple COVID-related outbreaks is a valid reason for it, but still. I think the Niners are the much better team when healthy, but they’re gonna be missing their best RB Raheem Mostert for this game (and the next few), which does impede their power-run game somewhat. Backup Jerick McKinnon is still very good, he just has a different, less-demoralizing style. Handsome Jimmy will have to make some plays, and I think he can do just enough. The overall talent gap will be too much for NE to overcome, I fear.

Jacksonville Jaguars at Los Angeles Chargers (-7.5)

The Jags have lost five straight games coming into this one, while the Chargers have dropped four in a row. Something’s gotta give! I will say that the Jacksonville losses seem more depressing (3 of them were by double-digits), while even though L.A. is losing, they at least feel exciting. A shiny rookie QB who looks decent will do that, I guess. Still, I’m riding with my man Minshew to cover one last time here. If he fails, well, I think it’ll be time for us to go our separate ways. “Separate Ways” by Journey is also what plays in Gardiner Minshew’s helmet speaker instead of play calls, coincidentally. 

SNF: Seattle Seahawks (-3.5) at Arizona Cardinals

Seattle’s already abysmal secondary is going to be down Pro Bowl safety Jamal Adams for this one, so Cards QB Kyler Murray should be able to sling it around with relative ease. His best weapon, WR Deandre Hopkins is Questionable with a lingering ankle injury, but he’s been playing through it so far and it hasn’t seemed to slow him much. I think this is the week the magic runs out for the Seahawks, and they take their first L of the season. Russell Wilson can’t bail them out EVERY time. Probably. This game is likely to be the stylistic opposite of the Monday nighter, because...

MNF: Chicago Bears at Los Angeles Rams (-6)

...all signs point to this being a butt-ugly game. I like good defense, don’t get me wrong, but nobody should purposely watch Nick Foles and Jared Goff play QB against competent defenses. I suppose I can see some entertainment value in getting to see both Aaron Donald and Khalil Mack torment quarterbacks in the same game, but I think I’m gonna pass for the same reason that I don’t really like to watch animals get eaten in nature shows. I get that it’s the way things are meant to happen, but damn. I’m a real wimp, by the way.

Last Week’s Record: 7-7

Season Record: 44-38-4

The university of essays for 2016

'Its fin whollyy hither. The famed Admissions Hero dissection of the infamous University of simoleons supple custodyt. These strains ar annually nonorious for their nastyy and peculiarity. Our precise stimulate Vinay Bhaskara (U cabbage 17) offers his scoop up advice for tackling these school principals in this all-around(prenominal) post.\n\nQuestion 1:\n\nHow does the University of kale, as you whop it now, satisfy your appetite for a particular proposition kind of encyclopedism, community, and upcoming(a)? Please breed with few extraordinary(predicate)ity your aver wishes and how they relate to UChicago.\n\nThis is, for the astir(predicate) part, a unc come inh blot whitherfore give instruction X look for, and our analysis of it is largely tied to that principle. The Why school beat X demonstrate is what we analogous to name a check-the-box show. It broadly accommodate for non pulsate you into a school unless your act is incredibly go od, precisely a under the weather written or mediocre Why School X hear may lay aside you come on. The underlying to this type of turn up is to avoid platitudes, much(prenominal) as the campus is beautiful, or the assimilators soak up a tight buckle community. Whenever possible, you compulsion to reach to factors that argon specialized and unique to the University of Chicago. Creating an thorough advert of such factors would wait several(prenominal) thousand course of typography; however, the prospective(a) ar a a couple of(prenominal) classifiable factors gleaned from my time (admittedly brief) at the university. We would caution readers that in that location be fix more(prenominal) factors than ar presented on this carg mavinn, and that research (at least an time of day or so) would do hygienic towards conclusion the specifics most sufficient for each appliers profile. We would likewise warn readers that unless they excogitation on mete r reading through cardinal old age worth of Scav lists, name-dropping Scav exit likely wound you.\n\nThe University of Chicago is a bastion of deliver market economical science (at least coitus to peer institutions) and is notable diachronicly for ho employment Milton Friedman and Gary Becker, amongst other laureates of the Chicago School of economic science\nThe University of Chicago has a thriving governmental activism scene, that governmental debate at the university is unusually knock off around the convey of Politics, headed by indemnity-making savant David Axelrod\nThe W present period of trifle Goes to Die dictum has more or less verity to it, simply it real should be translated as If you enjoy accomplishment and/or running(a) hard, U Chicago is the place for you. If you burn set around looseness with schoolmanians, UChicago is an above intermediate place\nThe learning community at UChicago has an unusual trance with Durkheim\nTheoretica l noesis is prized over practical knowledge, though as with all generalizations ab stunned UChicago, this effect has dull somewhat in recent categorys\nIf you like to / atomic number 18 good at writing, the Core entrust be a happy / no-hit place for you.\n scotch deflation is fierce, but the ethos of actually earning an A or B is recognize if you wad pop off the tenor and wad with occasional to a fault-ran\nThese are average a snippet, and surrounded by the internet, conversations with actual UChicago students, and fifty-fifty published materials, you apprise learn furthest more.\n\nQuestion 2 (Optional):\n\nShare with us a few of your best- whapd books, poems, authors, burgeon forths, plays, pieces of euphony, histrions, performers, paintings, creative persons, blogs, magazines, or newspapers. Feel superfluous to touch on single, some, or all of the categories listed, or attention deficit dis collection a category of your witness.\n\nanother(prenominal) figure the box examination, but here the delineate is to avoid plentiful the admissions counselors what they want to see. acquire some scene of your personality, or the organizing al-Qaida of your activity, and generate lists of items in those spheres.\n\nFor example, I chose to list out my favourite(a) airlines, airports, aircraft, aircraft programs, and other aviation-related items (see my narration if its ill-defined why).\n\nAnd dont be terror-s frauden to share some silly (non-academic or non-erudite) items, especially if they tramp be juxtaposed against a consequence tooth root to stand by balance out your personality. For example, I could prevail opted to list my favorite romantic comedies as a dilettante of such films (Number 1 is It Could Happen to You for those kindle in rom-coms). fag outt faint-hearted a agency from some amour like that.\n\nEXTENDED wadvas (REQUIRED; CHOOSE ONE)\n\n1) Whats so amvictimization near remarkable numbers?\n\n-Insp ired by Mario Rosasco, fork of 2009\n\nThis displace offers a immobile platform for controverting challenges in terms of ostracization or exclusion from monastic order or until now school. Topics such as bullying, struggles with sexual orientation, or racial indistinguishability could all be contractd by using the word unmated as a basis to research them, though choosing a light affair (such as the time you couldnt go on a field of honor slip up because of a depressed leg unless written in a clearly sarcastic manner) would likely not be as impactful.\n\nAnother natural selection is to use this set off as a base to research a cult for data analysis, math, numbers, or thus far patterns. For example, a particularly arouse approach to this endeavor could be to muse on your love for math in carve ups with the prison term lengths of the Fibonacci sequence. Basically, you would hold open carve ups in the quest manner, each talk ofing a portion of why you love math, describing your experiences with math, or exploring how math guides your future plans. The first paragraph would be a blank seat (0), two peerless metre paragraphs (1,1), unrivaled two sentence paragraph (2), a 3 sentence paragraph (3), a five sentence paragraph (5), an octad sentence paragraph (8), and so forth. The text edition would just be presented as if it were normal, but at the finale you could point out the pattern as well. Regardless of how you do it, use this establish as an extract to explore a genuine low density in whatever pattern or odd thing you choose.\n\n2) In French, thither is no departure between sense of right and wrong and consciousness. In Japanese, there is a word that specifically refers to the splittable wooden chopsticks you tick at restaurants. The German word fremdschämen encapsulates the feeling you get when youre embarrassed on behalf of individual else. All of these require explanation in order to in good order communicate t heir marrow, and are, to alter degrees, untranslatable. Choose a word, tell us what it means, and accordingly apologise why it cannot (or should not) be translated from its original language. \n\n-Inspired by Emily Driscoll, an entranceway student in the Class of 2018\n\nThis command act offers a strong fortune to explore a deep touch or fervent hobby, and in trustworthy cases, stock-still lends itself to a bit of an academic and reflective t star. The constitute is to pull out a word, phrase, or even earpiece that is unique to that field and use it as a illustration for your smell, or to embodiment a meshing of analogies to your life.\n\nFor example, a unstainedly trained Indian singer energy pretend the traditional Carnatic notes of Sa-Re-Ga-Ma-Pa- might plead against translation into the bar western unisonal theater notes A, B, C, D, E, F, G (these are not the repoint comparison s I am aware, but I am not a musician by training) because the Carnatic ones necessitate the weight of Indias hi tommyrot of exertion and a true deliverdom from Western control. This lends itself to rich and knock-down(a) academic writing, but the real trick will be to tie the prove back to yourself, by chance by discussing how Carnatic music get outs your Indian root to resonate in a way that playing a song with Indian influences on the genus Viola simply would not. You could besides argue the conference and claim that intermingle Western and Carnatic music (by giving more Westerners the ability to play Carnatic music) would help in the process of pagan assimilation, and on a personal level, allow you to convey the meaning that your Indian heritage holds. Likely, you have your own interesting pagan idiosyncrasy; this is the establish to explore it.\n\n3) flyspeck pigs, french hens, a family of bears. Blind mice, musketeers, the Fates. drift of an atom, laws of me ntation, a signpost for composition. Omne trium perfectum? Create your own group of 3s, and take in why and how they hit together.\n\n-Inspired by Zilin Cui, an incoming student in the Class of 2018\n\n sequence it may be tempting to choose something with the preface Three, as hinted at in the prompt, a more palatable survival might be to separate your personality/life into tierce distinct parts. each part would demonstrate a incompatible facet of you, and tie them together would allow you to create a distinctive, yet sympathetic personality. While the trio items can be unique, one or several paragraphs should be devoted to explaining and exploring the interconnectivity. If your lotion has a common theme, hooking three items within that theme would add to the transition of the judge.\n\nFor example, my group of three would be Boeing house in Seattle, capital of the United Kingdom city Airport, and Hyderabad Airport. Boeing survey in Seattle (obviously) would agree aviation. capital of the United Kingdom City Airport is the closest airport to gym shoe Wharf and the London School of political economy and thus would toy my academic interest, temporary hookup Hyderabad Airport (Hyderabad is crustal plate to the Telugu movie industry) would salute my love for Indian films. The broader synthesis is that I was perfervid near aviation, which took up the sight of my time. In the akin manner that coronation bankers operate, I am rigorous and data-driven and play to gain economic principles to make day-after-day decisions. And when I limber up (whether through film or sport), I head in the complete icy direction towards as bitty mentation as possible, which is back up by the pleasant-tasting inanity of Telugu film. Constructing an stress around these parameters would be the goal.\n\n4) Were pH an nerve of personality, what would be your pH and why? (Feel free to respond acidly! Do not be neutral, for that is base!)\n\n-Inspired by Joshua Harris, Class of 2016\n\n formerly again this demonstrate offers an hazard to explore ones personality, and a pompous approach would place psyche who is mellow strung and working well with stress (such as yours truly) at the top of the list with a juicy pH of 1 or 2 (remember that pH is an backward scale), while placing someone unflappable at a pH of 12 or 13. This is certainly an plectrum that you could pursue, and obviously this prompt has strong prayer to those who are passionate about science. For you guys, utilizing the chemical science pinpoint of pH, possibly to issue a series of acid-base reactions that represent your personality (each one covering a facet), might be a recyclable strategy.\n\nHowever, the secret prospect here is for those who are passionate about art. Most paints (save water garbles) have a specific pH value. hoof your favorite annotate of paint, try to grow out its pH value (and you can use the internet), and use that as the peg f or your set about. Your favorite color is frequently a reflection of some facet of your personality, and considering that could let you with an interesting opportunity.\n\n5) A neon evocation by the artist Jeppe Hein in UChicagos Charles M. Harper tenderness asks this fountainhead for us: Why are you here and not somewhere else? (There are many potential difference values of here, but we already know youre here to apply to the University of Chicago; pick any here besides that one).\n\n-Inspired by Erin Hart, Class of 2016\n\nThis question seems rather make upential, and that is a potential opportunity for those who enjoy philosophic discussions. In particular, this shew lends itself extremely well to various academic treatments. Those who are scientifically oriented could discuss the nature of return (and the unresolved question of dark matter) or the physics of intercourse (speech which enables human party to be here), while affable sciences-oriented students could r eference classical thinkers to build a case to function the questions. While unremarkably focusing whole on academic, or even prohibitionist content is a significant danger, the University of Chicago has a goodish respect for theoretic learning. And for students passionate about learning, or even research, this is conveying an prerequisite part of personality.\n\nAnother direction for this essay is to explore a significant life event that has brought you to where you are. Examples hold moving to contrastive locations, changing familial state of affairss that have cut off your life, or even natural catastrophes you have faced. Whatever you choose, you can use this essay to tie in your life story provided it is significantly unique or interesting. For example, a Chinese American who is not the oldest blood relative in the family could write about how chinas One-Child form _or_ system of government prompted his or her parents to move to the United States, take about a slew of assorted opportunities. The writer could thusly take this essay into a more or less academic direction, discussing chinawares policy and its socioeconomic effects. Alternatively, one could take this essay into a pagan direction and discuss the cultural differences that exist between mainland China and the US. Of course, this is just one example; its up to you to get hold a situation that conveys your story best.\n\n6) In the spirit of adventurous inquiry, pose a question of your own. If your prompt is original and thoughtful, then you should have petty trouble writing a bully essay. Draw on your best qualities as a writer, thinker, visionary, genial critic, sage, citizen of the world, or future citizen of the University of Chicago; take a little risk, and have fun. \n\nhither we will recite our advice from shoemakers last divisions like prompt, because it still holds true. This essay really poses the highest risk but also the highest potential reward. pa ternity your own question allows you to write an advanced essay that each tackles a difficult or moot topic (for example, my essay from last year tackled why mainstream Hollywood films are more valuable than patently more clever independent films), or presents the in formation with a unique format (such as a conversation with a dead historical figure).\n\n\n\nFor more ideas in the train of thought needed to tackle these UChicago essays, check out Vinays dissection of last years supplement. As application time rolls around, we will continue to modify this post with more suggestions to ensure that your UChicago essays are excellent, so keep checking back. However, this should be sufficient to get you started. go around of luck!If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Looking for a place to buy a cheap paper online? Buy Paper Cheap - Premium quality cheap essays and affordable papers online. Buy cheap, high qu ality papers to impress your professors and pass your exams. Do it online right now! '

OOPS It's Almost February but Here's My GOTY Lists!

Game of the Year: 10. Forza Horizon 3 I typically don't play racing games any more. For me, the genre peaked at Burnout 3: Takedown, and unless we are talking about Mario Kart 64, most racing games don't occupy a big piece of my gaming heart. Then, E3 2015 happened, and I was immediately mesmerized by Forza Horizon 3. I had only played Forza Motorsport 6, and neither of the other Horizon games, but the presentation given for FH3 immediately jumped out at me. I was intrigued by the diverse racing areas in Australia, and then I was hooked when I saw the race against the helicopter. What I saw was some of the insanity I loved about Burnout 3, along with the graphical prowess of more modern racers. Thankfully, FH3 is everything I loved about its E3 presentation: incredible graphics and the diverse landscape of Australian beaches, cities, jungles, and desert lands, driving that is the perfect balance of arcadey-fun and sim-realism, a great sense of speed, and an attitude that doesn't take itself too seriously. It is the first racing game in a long time that I would say is one of my favorite games of the year, and I also believe it is one of the ten best games of the year. Also -- the soundtrack is one of the best soundtracks in any game in a long time, which was another fun surprise about this wonderful game. 9. Doom The original Doom was the first video game I have any memory of in my life. I was hanging out with my dad at the local college activities center, and I remember catching someone play it on a demo-computer that was set up in one of the breezeway areas in the building. I was not yet at the age where I could play video games, but the memory of watching this dude with crazy guns kill crazy monsters has stuck with me. Through the years since, I have kept up with Doom as a series, even though Doom 3 is the only Doom game I have put any significant time into before Doom 2016. From what I can understand, Doom 2016 recaptures the feeling of playing OG Doom back in the day -- over-the-top insane action at a pace that never lets up from the get-go. From the very first seconds of Doom 2016, you are charged with killing everything that gets in your way, often as fast as you can. This is clearly not a new gaming concept, but D16 makes it as much fun as it can be. There are a lot of great shooters out this year, but (of those I played), none come close to matching the intensity and balls-to-the-wall feel of D16. This is your favorite shooter's favorite shooter, and is some of the best Video Game™ fun to be had in 2016 and beyond. 8. Inside Inside is quite a thing. The follow up to Playdead's Limbo (2010), it takes a lot of what made Limbo unique and fun and improves on it. Mechanically, Inside takes the time-tested gameplay of Running To The Right and makes it dangerous and exciting in a way few games do well. You are not quite sure what you are running to (or from?) for most of the game, but the world-building - usually in the background - keeps you interested from start to finish. The puzzles are mostly challenging, but I never got stuck, which helped the game keep a steady momentum throughout. It is a very dark game, both graphically and in subject matter, but Inside uses color in bursts to help punctuate certain moments. I am not super sure what really "happened" in Inside, but the story is ambiguous enough to allow for multiple interpretations, which I like, as well as a hidden ending if you are into that kind of thing. The last section of the game is not one I want to spoil, but is without quarter one of the most insane sections of a game I played all year, and is one of the best watercooler gaming moments in 2016. 7. Overcooked Overcooked is a game I watched a lot of in 2016, and then finally got my hands on in the waning days of the year. I've never had so much fun messing up in a game maybe ever as I do in Overcooked, but I feel equally as satisfied when everything goes off without a hitch. The basic premise of Overcooked is hilarious: the apocalypse happens, and The Beast arrives to destroy everything. The only way to stop the apocalypse from happening is to cook well enough to appease The Beast. Naturally, you fail, and you are sent back in time to work on your skills of "cooking and co-operation" in order to be better when The Beast comes back. The premise alone is worthy of any top-10 list, but the gameplay cements it. There are always two to three too many jobs per player - you'll need to grab ingredients, chop ingredients, use a fryer, cook in a pot or an oven, clean dirty dishes, place clean plates, and turn in completed orders in time, all while avoiding obstacles, moving portions of stages, certain death by lava, or by setting the arena on fire due to literal over-cooking. I say "arena" instead of kitchen, because even though you start in kitchens, the stages progress to pirate ships, moving vehicles, icy platforms, haunted houses, and space stations. You rarely do the same thing twice in Overcooked, and the stages are short enough that each play session is guaranteed to be varied, fast, and furious. The only downside I found is that it does not have online play -- Overcooked is the kind of game where it is certainly best with local play, but I wish I still had the option. That being said, Overcooked is a riot, and some of the best multiplayer of the year. 6. Batman: The Telltale Series Batman: The Animated Series is the first superhero-related property I remember in my life. I would watch this show every day, and I have memories of this classic cartoon before I have memories of most other things in my life. I've been a Batman fan ever since - so any new Batman game is going to certainly have my attention. Telltale's interpretations on The Walking Dead and Fables (via The Wolf Among Us) were interesting and compelling enough that I found myself eagerly awaiting each chapter, and Telltale's Batman is no exception. Traditional elements of the Batman narrative are flipped on their head, making this version of Batman a unique and risky vision of the Batman universe. Character origins are modified, and some characters end up being completely different from other, more standard portrayals, but Telltale pulls off each of these tweaks in a way that I found satisfying. I do wish that Telltale would revamp their engine, as I experienced some pretty wonky graphical glitches, and the frame rate never seems to be too interested in staying smooth, but this was a fun ride through a bold new telling of the Batman story - one that I will be excited to continue in future installments. 5. Stardew Valley Stardew Valley is a game that came out of nowhere earlier this year. Developed by one person, it took the PC gamingsphere by storm. Since I don't play on PC, I had to wait until December to finally play it on PS4 - and I'm glad I did. The game is a farming and relationship sim, mixed with light dungeon crawling and resource gathering. At the start of the game, your character receives a letter from your grandfather with the deed to the family farm. After toiling away at a boring desk job at a big corporation, the character decides to finally move into the family farm and start a new life. The game is split into days, months, and seasons, with a myriad of gameplay options each day. Some days you might spend clearing space in your farm, others you might spend tending to your crops, and others you might spend in the local town, getting to know each townperson. The relationship-development in the game is fairly shallow, but each character has a distinct personality, and it is fun getting to know them. You can go fishing, learn recipes for cooking, or try to reach a new level in the mine. The only combat options in the game are within the mine, but it is never super challenging. This is part of the appeal of Stardew Valley for me -- it is never traditionally "challenging," and is instead quite laid back. I didn't know I needed a game that is built for the player to take it at their own pace. I found myself continually drawn to play through "just one more day," while also feeling super relaxed. Aesthetically, Stardew Valley evokes old 16-bit era games, but with the best lighting I've ever seen in a 2D game. Stardew Valley is the positive game I needed in 2016, and I can't wait to continue my new life as a farmer-fisher-Casanova-dungeon master in the days to come. 4. Dark Souls III Back in 2009, I picked up a little game called Demon's Souls, and it changed my gaming life. I had never been challenged in an action-RPG in quite that fashion, and it had some of the best combat I had ever played in any game. Two Dark Souls games (and a Bloodborne) later, Dark Souls III finally dropped, and it is the Souls game of my dreams. The basic idea of the game is the same - traverse through an extremely dangerous world battling the toughest enemies and the meanest bosses, all the while upgrading your gear and skills to become the strongest warrior in the world. Bloodborne (the Lovecraftian cousin of the Souls series) sped up the game in a major way, and DS3 has injected a bit of that speed into its traditionally slower-paced combat. The co-op mechanic has also simplified from previous games (another lift from Bloodborne), and is how I experienced most of the game. Some of the most satisfying moments in gaming this year for me were battling bosses alongside my friend and having some serious skin-of-our-teeth victories. I am not as on top of the Souls lore as I would like to be, but I did recognize a lot of neat throwbacks to previous games in the series. According to Hidetaka Miyazaki, the director of Dark Souls & DS3, this will be the last game in the series. If this is indeed true, then the series has gone out on a high note with one of the best action-RPGs ever made. 3. Uncharted 4 Some of my favorite movies growing up were the Indiana Jones movies. I always wanted a good video game version of those movies (emphasis on good), and the Uncharted series has been that for me for the last few years. I loved the first Uncharted, and then was blown away by Uncharted 2. Uncharted 3 was still awesome, but it didn't quite live up to the charms of UC2. While I thought the end of 3 was certainly good, I didn't feel like it was as conclusive of an ending as it could have been. I was not surprised when they announced 4, as I felt like they left a little bit of room for more after 3. After announcing that this would indeed be the final Uncharted game, I didn't know how to feel - while there have been hundreds of action-adventure games, this series in particular really hit the beats that the Indiana Jones movies gave me, and I am sad that this series is going away. I'm sure that Naughty Dog felt the pressure to deliver a game worthy of being the final in this spectacular series, and they absolutely nailed it. The Uncharted series has always been on the bleeding edge of graphics technology and art direction, and UC4 is the crown jewel. This is undoubtedly the best looking video game I've ever played, and it's not really all that close. Sprawling island vistas, colorful and crowded towns, and incredibly realistic animations (even for this series) left me consistently in awe of what I was seeing. How good this game looks even this early in the console cycle adds to the impressive visual fidelity, and it deserves any and all awards for graphics this year. Beyond the graphics, the gunplay is the most finely tuned in the series, and the set pieces are the biggest and boldest since Uncharted 2's train sequence. There is a particular sequence involving a jeep, a grappling hook (another mechanic added to this game to great effect), and a motorcycle chase that is equal parts classic Uncharted and modern excellence in game design. The story does a great job of validating the existence of another Uncharted game, as well as including nods to older games in neat ways. The epilogue in particular will stay with me for some time as a long-time fan of the franchise. Nate, Sully, and Elena are all back, and it remains fun to see them in action (or not, as represented by a chapter early in the game). The inclusion of Sam as Nate's brother is something I was initially concerned about, wondering how the game would make me care about a brand new character this late in the overall story, but they did a great job of making him another worthy character in a series filled with fun characters. There is not much I can say negatively about this game -- any other year, UC4 is a shoe-in for my number 1 game of the year. Sitting at number 3 on this list does not mean that this game isn't good - it is truly great, especially for those who have kept up with the series so far. 2. Hitman When I was a kid, my usual answer to "What do you want to be when you grow up" was always "James Bond." As I've grown older I have come to appreciate more and more that I am not James Bond, but I still love it when movies or games make me feel like a super cool secret agent. This year's installment in the Hitman franchise is exactly that - the world's best secret agent simulator! Well...maybe not exactly that but I've not had more fun playing a stealth-action game in years than I have with Hitman. The episodic nature of this game's release meant that each level required some serious heft, and IO Interactive pulled through in a major way in each of the game's sprawling levels. Whether you are in a mansion in Paris during a fashion show, walking around a gorgeous Mediterranean coastal town that hides a cavernous science lab, or a volatile marketplace in Marrakesh, each level is alive with detail, and expertly designed for creative solutions for each mission. Depending on how you want to play, the game can show you exactly where and how to perform some of the sillier ways to accomplish your mission, or you can go through blind, figuring out exactly how you would want to successfully find and take out the targets. Part of the success of Hitman 2016 is that it doesn't take itself too seriously - the AI is good enough to make things difficult if you are sloppy, but not hawkish enough to avoid being exploited. NPC dialogue can be funny as well, and while you certainly can play the game straight and use traditional weapons to carry out the hits, the game offers so many different bonkers ways to take out your targets, it's hard not to play through each mission without cracking a smile at least once. Hitman is also gorgeous - the Sapienza map in particular is stunning, but each map has a distinct aesthetic, each with superb lighting and colors to suit the setting. The music also takes cues from spy movies, giving the situation a curious vibe as you are sneaking around, and escalating if needed to go along with the action on the screen. I wish the load times were faster (playing on an Xbox One), and there are occasional janky glitches (like throwing a battle axe at a target through a wall), but neither of those take away from the immense amount of fun to be had in the gameplay (also, one could argue throwing a battle axe through a wall is actually hilarious and awesome). Where some stealth-action games take themselves too seriously and become save-scumming nightmares, Hitman hits the spot, nailing a goofy sense of fun to a well-worn concept. Bonus points - this game is also so entertaining to watch - I was sold on this game by watching Giant Bomb's video coverage of the game through the year. 1. Overwatch This list was pretty difficult to make this year, and ordering was even more difficult. That being said - there was always a clear number one, and that game is Overwatch. I have joked that this might be my Game of the Every Year, and depending on when you ask me, I may not actually be joking. I was beyond skeptical of this game when it was coming out - I had fallen away from the competitive multiplayer shooter scene somewhere around Halo 3 and Modern Warfare 2. I scoffed at the game not even trying to offer anything for single-player players like me. I knew that I enjoyed the objective-based gameplay of Team Fortress 2 back in the day, but it was never the type of game I was especially drawn towards. But, every game podcast I listened to, every review I read, and just about everyone in games journalism I follow on Twitter could not stop talking about how much fun this game was. So, on a whim, I got the game at GameStop, thinking that I could just trade it in if I didn't like it. I texted one of my friends to let him know I got it, and it turns out he also got it. We played for a couple of hours that first night and right then I knew - I had stumbled backwards into something special. I immediately fell in love with the bright, positive aesthetic, the heroic-sounding music in the main menu, and the enticing possibilities of how different the game could feel depending on which character you use. I was hooked by the pace of each match - not too short and not too long, leaving you perfectly ready for "just one more match." Each character feels great, and I found out quickly that the game was balanced extraordinarily well already out of the gate. That first session lead into more the next day, and the next day, and every day for a week, two weeks, a month...and so on. What started as just my one friend and I playing turned into a steady group of six or seven of us ready to play most days of the week! Part of this is due to the evangelism of my friend and I, bugging our friends to buy the game at an almost daily pace, but an even bigger reason is that Overwatch is accessible while remaining a deep gameplay experience. Multiple characters are perfect for just starting in, whether you have played other multiplayer-FPS games, or whether you are still figuring out how to move with the left stick and turn the camera with the right - there is a character for everybody. The diversity of the cast of characters is also a highlight, as many different races, ethnicities, genders, sexual orientations, and personalities are not something that is typical for video games. Overwatch also does a great job at making the player feel positive reinforcement - there is no K/D list constantly in the face of the player, and post-match screens are always a celebration of what players did well in a match rather than highlighting who did the best and who did the worst. As Blizzard is known to do with their other games, they showed that they are fully capable of supporting Overwatch via regular content updates and gameplay balance patches, which paves the way for the game to continue to be great in the years to come. The promise of free DLC forever is another great way they are sticking it to their competitors, and continued proof that Blizzard cares about the people who play their games. Sure - do I wish that duplicate items in loot boxes gave out more in-game currency? Of course - but that is also literally the only negative thing I can think of to say about this game. I have logged in more hours into this game than any other game I've ever played (except for maybe Mario Kart 64, which I started playing almost twenty years ago), and I continue to add hours every week. This game has made me new friends, and kept me close with old friends, and has been a valuable portion of my week nearly every week since its release. There was never any other option for my number one game of the year this year, and it deserves any and all praise and awards possible from now until the end of time. PS - please please please get on the point. Thanks! Barely Missed the List: -Firewatch - this is a gorgeous game with an understated, sad, and ultimately genuine and human narrative that hooked me from beginning to end. I'm not sure I'll ever revisit it, but it was a compelling look into the consequences of failing to communicate effectively, as well as speaking to how we tend to go to great lengths to avoid tough situations at times. -Gears of War 4 - This is a solid re-entry into the Gears universe, one which I was a huge fan of in Gears 1-3. Gears 4 is definitely more Gears, although it didn't quite have the same magic for me as the first 3. That being said, I'll be ready for Gears 5 - and this one would have made the list in a lot of other years that weren't as jam packed as this year. -Final Fantasy XV - This was tough to omit from the list. I was really enjoying my time with this game until they announced that they were going to add in story scenes to the game at some unspecified time down the road. As someone who wants to experience a game the best way possible the first time through, I have yet to continue the game since they made this announcement. Despite all of that, I'm thrilled that Final Fantasy is back, and I think that the overall presentation and battle system make for a fun game to play. I'll be excited to get back into this game...once they finish it. Haven't Played but Wish I Had: -Hyperlight Drifter -The Last Guardian -Superhot Games I Want to Play More: -Darkest Dungeon - I love the aesthetic of this game, and I can always fall deep into a good rogue-like -FFXV - reasons above -The Witness - this game makes me feel so smart, but can also be so frustrating. -SFV/Guilty Gear - I want to be better at fighting games, and I love how both of these games look. SFV definitely has more players, but GG feels like the better game. Most Disappointing Game -Tom Clancy's The Division - I wanted to love this game. I was so ready for it after the initial E3 presentation. The promise of another game like Destiny where I could group up with friends, take down enemies, and find better loot is something that I can always get behind. But then, I played The Division. The empty open world was boring, the netcode was a struggle, and the constant cheaters in the Dark Zone bounced me off of this game in a way I wasn't ready for. The loot and customization failed to impress me, and the bullet spongy enemies got old real fast. I haven't felt this disappointed in a game in a long time. Runners Up: -Rez: Infinite - this is not a bad game, and I enjoyed my time with it in VR, but based off of what I heard about this game, it should have brought me closer to God. Needless to say I don't believe it was as transcendent as the conversation around the game would lead me to believe, and that's the only reason it is on the Disappointing Games list for me this year. -No Man's Sky - Or, Game that Makes Me Sad of 2016. The promise of this game based off of the (potentially maliciously) misleading marketing of this game is such a huge disservice to what this game actually is. Thankfully, I did hear enough impressions from some who played it at preview events so that I realized a little more that NMS would be closer to a survival game than the end-all-be-all Sci-Fi epic that was advertised, but even that couldn't help me from eventually falling off of this game. I still really love the aesthetic of the game, and it has some great music. The addition of the Foundation update gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, NMS will one day resemble its initial, ambitious vision, but until that day comes, NMS will ultimately remain disappointing. VR Lineup: VR is finally here! So far I have only experienced VR through the PSVR, and I feel hopeful for the potential VR can bring to gaming. Here are my top 5 PSVR experiences of the year: Job Simulator Batman: Arkham VR Here They Lie RIGS Until Dawn: Rush of Blood Best Game for On The Go: Batman: The Telltale Series (iPad) World of Final Fantasy (Vita) Super Mario Run (iPhone) Game of the (Not This) Year -The Witcher 3 - I've continued to progress forward in The Witcher 3, and I still haven't beaten the main game or touched either DLC pack. This game is so full of great content, it is almost overwhelming. Every time I play TW3, I am more and more convinced that this is one of the best games of the generation, and absolutely one of the best open-world games of all time. Runners Up: -Persona 4: Dancing All Night - I haven't been this into a rhythm game since Rock Band 3! It has been fun coming back to the Persona 4 universe, and jamming along to some of the best video game music in years. This is also a great way to continue the excitement for Persona 5, coming out later this year. -Life is Strange - This is a charming adventure game that I picked up on sale for $5, and I haven't regretted the decision. I haven't yet beaten the story, but I appreciate the indie-movie nature of the game's story, cinematography, and music. The time-rewinding mechanic has been used in many other different games, but the usage of this mechanic in Life is Strange takes pressure off of making decisions, allowing me to see more of the story as I go along. Best Looking Game Uncharted 4 Overwatch Ratchet and Clank Best Music Overwatch (shoutout to Numbani theme!) Uncharted 4 Stardew Valley Overcooked Hitman Best Story Batman: The Telltale Series Uncharted 4 Firewatch