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e-lursts · 8 days

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SCAREDY RATS! — VAN PALMER

﹙a continuation of my character ai bot because it was just fluff and it made me ache for something like that. unintentionally, i made this long 💀 i'm so sorry. i think i added way too much backstory before finally getting into the main plot.﹚

﹙legit thanking the anonymous requester for making this bot come alive. if it weren't for your adorable mind, this story wouldn't have become a thing, so thank you!﹚

synopsis ; van, once lost in the dreams of escaping the wilderness and her neglectful reality, never imagined she'd survive, let alone thrive independently. yet, here she was, two years post-rescue, cohabiting an apartment with her girlfriend. the twist? the previous tenants were rats.

warning ; nothing! just a rat-infested apartment <3

wc ; 2.7k words ﹙i got too into it... maybe too much.﹚

𓂃 ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the past 🍃

Stargazing morphed into something beyond a mere pastime. The stars, twinkling faintly against the deep backdrop of midnight blue, played silent bystanders to conversations masked by the gentle murmur of the neighboring waterfall. Moments of quiet held value greater than the first, second, third, fourth date-or wherever two strangers finally level up to the shared intimacy of a fleeting kiss.

No, this was a transcendence far more than the wonted quiet.

For Van, this kind of tranquility was an unfamiliar colony. She had known silence, yes, but it came with clattered pills and stertors, breaking the monotonous quietude of her rundown home, both inside and out.

Yet, here she encountered a contrasting kind of peace. Crickets serenaded her with a soothing lullaby, capable of cradling her to sleep. Here, attentive company replaced lonely hours with a snoring mother.

Here, someone tuned in to her thoughts, hopes, and wishes instead of catching zzz's.

"What are your dreams, Van?" you inquired, exhaling warm breaths that danced against the soaked tresses sliding down her nape.

Droplets of water plummeted with the force of a pin drop, merging flawlessly with the river's flow, as Van delved into the jungles of her mind. Polishing her thoughts—more likely making up bullshit at last second—the cold water guzzling their lower bodies faded as an afterthought. Expectant exhalations colored the air, then her skin, once your chin drooped onto her shoulder, peppering it with kisses amidst the wait.

"Maybe it's just escaping from all this," Van mused, leaning back into your embrace. Her eyelids fluttered to a shut, fancying a limelight on the wet smooches imprinted on her skin.

"A different one."

"A different one?" Virdiscent irises perked and glanced sideways, meeting your faux frown casually resting on her deltoid. "Why?"

"Because everyone in this damn plane crash seems to be wishing for it," you remarked, earning a nod from her. "And I’m no exception."

You were spot on.

So, in truth, what did she want? Desired?

What did I want?

Years of enduring unappetizing frozen foods and pre-made meals for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and as a midnight snack had her craving for an out. Rotting in her negligent home ached a desire for a brighter future.

A more well-off future.

"I want a life with you." Away from the burden of caring for her already-bedridden mother at the age forty.

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

You leaned closer, approximately meeting her lips, as if about to indulge in the gossip of the century. "What does this life look like then?”

Divided attention glued to your lips, then your eyes. A dark hue, yet the light to her present struggles and impending obstacles.

The sun to her moon. The yin to her yang. The icing on her cake. Key to her heart.

"It'd be waking up to freshly brewed coffee every morning in our cozy apartment," Van finally replied.

Her fingers entwined with yours, meeting your moistened knuckles with her damped palms. The calming water lapping at her lower half synced with her movement, following all subtle twitches of muscle that pushed her back to your chest.

It was a necessity to accentuate the sensation of your breath, your presence, to reassure herself you were still here, listening.

"And then,” Van continued, stretching her smile to reveal a row of teeth, “we'd drink it on our balcony where we can sip and watch the city wake up."

"Then, I'll make the pancakes to pair it with our coffee,” added you with an ear-to-ear grin, mirroring her infectious enthusiasm.

"But on Sundays, we'll turn it into a movie night with blankets and endless bowls of popcorn."

Van, though, wasn't finished yet. “I get to pick the films, though!" which gained a chuckle from your end.

"That's not fair!" you protested. Pouty lips and faint wrinkles brewed the center of your forehead's base. It intended to muster a hint of minimal annoyance, but all it imitated was a puppy—bark with no bite.

"Babe," Van turned around, finally speaking directly with calloused palms smoothing your cheeks. "You know I can't stand your corny picks."

Your face scrunched, jutting out lips to an insincere disapproving frown. All of which healed the pretend wrinkles to a state of normalcy with one lingering kiss from her.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" Van tittered in between playful pecks, barely allowing your lips to part. "We can watch those mushy rom-coms, even if they're so predictable with all those clichés.”

"Ah, don't pretend," you teased, a grin breaking through. "Deep down, you secretly enjoy them. I'm just more brave about admitting it.”

Van nonchalantly shrugged, yet her miniscule smile betrayed her. "Just a little."

With another kiss upon your smiling lips, pecking over your teeth in a playful exchange, all under the watchful gaze of the eventide.

Feeling seen, heard, loved was a matter of privilege, a stroke of luck reserved for the fortunate few.

Once thinking she'd never win the jackpot, the universe, nonetheless, had finally thrown her a bone.

A dream come true.

If Van had told herself from two years ago she'd be lugging back-breaking boxes and schlepping them to a rented apartment in New Jersey, she'd have dismissed it as hallucination number twenty-one, and gone back to sleep. Surviving off meager rations does that shit to your head like that.

But reentering civilization after miraculous, news-buzzing rescue brought a stark reality-check. One glance out the window, man-made buildings and roads filled the expanse of her vision, renewing untrimmed forest flora with cars and human hustle.

"Still feels unreal to you?" Your voice chimed in after the final thud of the muscle-wearing box against the warm hardwood flooring. Empty, vacant space eased your legs to spot behind her, arms wayfinding around her waist like a loose belt embracing already-fitted pants.

"Mhm," was all Van could hum in response.

"Me too," you murmured against the curve of her neck. "Can't believe we got this place."

Or even got out of that hell alive.

Hugging amidst the living room, sparsely decorated with beige cardboard boxes strewn about like a chaotic game of Tetris, it still felt surreal.

It was akin to their shared dream, except reality wasn't as neatly rendered as perfection.

Snagging an apartment amidst New Jersey's chaotic traffic was either a modest oasis or a whole new kind of disarray.

Squared windows did little to muffle the earsplitting noises of rushing ambulances, police sirens, and honking cars that exuded an extra level of aggression. Forget waking up to an alarm clock—weeeee wooos and beeeep-beeeps were the ringtones they'd wake up to. Day, or night, people in a hurry cared little if they disrupted someone's beauty sleep.

The bare walls cried from the clawed scratches ingrained on their bleak, chipped surface. Van mentally noted to hang larger decorations, concealing the dented and marred areas that seemed to double as stress relief for a cat lady's felines.

Shelves and cabinets weren't littered with pans or pantry staples, but thick layers of dust sat as if it were home. Closet doors yawned open, cobwebs lazily draping in its narrow edges, and is that a lone sock abandoned in a corner? If one sock could stank up the whole place, Van dreaded to think about the potential grime lurking in the bathroom.

They should have expected the state of something sold this cheap. Shit was a cursed cavern.

But no matter its bargain rate, this marked the beginning of something new. A fresh start with you. A life away from her mother.

"Should we get cleaning?"

A vocal chord straining, throat tightening, "VAN!" shrieked from your gape lips. A belted out tone so great that it could have pierced the heavens and left God wondering what the fuss was about.

The unholy amounts of fucks, shits, oh gods, and blood-curling scream must have transformed Van's legs into a pair of speedy race cars, zooming towards the room that echoed with your familiar call for help. Because in a blink of an eye, there, you saw her.

Your savior. Your pest exterminator.

Urgent hands clutched at the robust doorway, halting Van's rapid steps. "What's going on?"

What's going on?

Mouth quivering, it rallied between wanting to spill the details like a generous charity and hoping Van would piece together the emergency herself.

Your tembling figure fully leaped to the protective height of the couch's plush, thankful for its elevation that spared your feet from potential nibbling.

Wide-eyed and searching, you scanned the room for the grey freeloader and its grotesque tail spreading abnormalities while your heart threatened to burst through your ribs.

Anxiety had choked out all senses of rationality as your panicked hand opted to use the dust cleaner like a medieval weapon, doing as much damage as a level-one player about to fight a dragon with bare fists.

You were ready—or at least convinced yourself you were ready—to kick out one tiny mouse that could be harboring a horde of rodent relatives just beyond a thin wall.

God, rats were the bane of your existence—annoying, furry intruders.

Sheer panic should have been infectious, radiating high spikes of fear to crash on your girlfriend's body.

But instead, there, she stood still, leaning against the doorway with an... amused smirk?

Your hand choked the dust cleaner.

"Van!" Her smirk wiped off.

"Can you stop finding this amusing and help me, please?" you pleaded, begged, to be seen as a distressed damsel in need of rescuing rather than a source of entertainment.

"Okay, okay," Van uttered the words without as much of a semblance of a commitment. She raised her hands, an imaginary lift of a defeated white flag, and drooped her head to mask her bitten lower lip. A clear sign, you just knew, she was fighting demons to contain her laughter.

Typical Van.

Her gesture was appreciated, even if it didn't fully alleviate the situation like a straight-faced rescue mission would have.

Relaxed footsteps finally came to your aid. Your plain-shirted, cargo-clad white knight extended her arms, ready to swoop you up in a graceful rescue.

"Calm down," she coaxed, suppresing the urge to chuckle at your terrified expression. "It's just a little visitor, after all. I'll take care of it."

Oh, so she did figure out what the fuck was happening.

"But for now," she added, offering to carry you bridal-style, "let's get you to safety, okay?”

"You promise?" Your dust cleaner descended, relenting your guard at her sweet promises.

"I promise."

"But, you better not drop me, or I swear to God—" Van wouldn't, of course. You weren't a sack of potatoes.

But your threats vanished, gone by a blink, once an inevitable scream suffocated your words. Something darted past the corner of her eye, familiar little feet scurrying its small claws on the ground. That damn abomination.

"Hey, hey,” Van's cooing slipped from one ear to the other. "It's okay, relax—”

Knees jelly, your hand instinctively reached for the nearest stable object: Van's shoulders.

"Just breathe," she reminded. "Breathe, babe."

Her words must have been brewed with witchcraft, melting your mind to merge with a voodoo doll's own. Since, before you knew it, your weight had already sunk into the welcoming grasp of the cushions, breaths amplifying with each passing moment—weighty, but oddly balanced.

“That's it,” Van murmured, a hand rebelling against the wrinkles riding across the back of your shirt as it rubbed and rubbed. “Easy, baby.”

If silence were a crime, you'd gladly plead guilty to hear Van's voice as punishment.

No shame in admitting that.

Your breathing, in mere seconds, transformed from the erratic gasps of a marathon runner to the rhythmic cadence of a contented sloth. In her arms, you felt safe, protected from any danger.

But once your feet lost touch of the couch's plush, the puddle of relaxation was shattered by your own unwanted yelp. Your knees pointed skyward, palms hastily relocating from shoulders to Van's nape, one arm below your thigh and back to support your weight.

“Would it kill you to stop being so jumpy?” Van's careful steps into the hallway blurred her chuckles. “I mean, how can you still be afraid of rats?”

The question steered the redness of your cheeks to your ears.

You're not sure what source your embarrassment came from. Van carrying you like a damn newborn and plopping you like one on the bed or your fear of rats. Probably a mix of both.

“Can you please just stop talking?” You flicked the dust cleaner against her forehead, clinging specks of filth against portions of her scarred lines. She playfully coughed, waving away the granules like a frantic windshield wiper in a rainstorm.

“Wow, so you're asking me to save your ass, shut up, and then a surprise attack?" she chuckled, propping herself up with one elbow on the mattress. "Are you even capable of thanking me?”

“Well, not with you acting like a total ass," you retorted, turning every degree of your body away from Van's sight as if truly upset.

"Me, an ass?" Her grin was surely ear-to-ear by now.

"I'm giving you the premium treatment, you know. I'm not just saving you; I'm being your savior. Your protector. I'm fulfilling my chivalrous duty, and all I get is a pout?"

“Yeah.”

“Woww.”

"Hmm, let me think." The brief break of silence was broken by the tapping of her fingers on her forehead, then a low hum of contemplation.

"How about I punish you for your lack of gratitude and disrespect to your loving girlfriend with..." She slanted closer, invasive breaths abutting your neck.

"Forceful cuddles?”

"Oh no, what am I going to do?" you exclaimed, feigning wide-eyed concern. Yet, a smile creeped after meeting Van's equally playful grin.

"I absolutely, positively do not want you to give me a warm, tight hug that lasts forever. And definitely not any kisses on the cheeks or—gasp—lips. Oh, and please, no gentle hair-stroking to calm me down. Nope, not at all," you quipped, finishing with an eyeroll for good measure.

All Van did in response was reach with tuck some diverging behind your ear, cascading them to lay atop the pillow. Locks of hair formerly obscuring your ethereal features, your long lashes had presently shut and headed directly to bury against another pillow; her ample bosom. The natural scent of mild sweat from hours of activity and her lingering cologne held a spell capable of dozing you off.

So much for that "horrible" embrace.

With one hand on the small of your back and an arm jailing your waist, silence stretched to a never-ending length. As your bodies molded together in a snugly cradle, infrequent rustling of clothes cracked the stillness occupying the scantily decorated room.

Only Van's giggle added another sheet of noise.

“Sleepyhead.”

Blaring weeeee-woooos assaulted your eardrums, snapping off the tight seal of your eyelids. Prying your eyes open, expecting a serene sunrise, a riot of red and orange briefly blinded your vision's expansion, courtesy of the ongoing sirens outside. Talk about a mood killer.

A few more blinks cleared the sleep fog, and… something disrupted the sunlight streaming through the window. A dull grey, out-of-place, mass. A squeak that could rival a rusty door hinge. Whiskers twitching as buck teeth nibbled on a morsel of food.

Right there and then, you registered it, unfazed, with its paws unquestionably branding your skin with faint concentrations of bacteria.

Eating. On. Your. Fucking. Chest.

“WHAT THE FUCK.”

Your colorful language surely would be the talk of the neighborhood. But that didn't fucking matter when a rat was perched atop of you like it owned the place.

On impulse, your hands rocked your companion's shoulder, jolting her off of her slumberland, blabbering “VAN!” like it was a code-red emergency.

"Wha—what's wrong?!" Van asked before her eyes widened upon descending on the ravenous fat rogue.

The room had morphed into a frenzy of activity with morning calm becoming yesterday's news.

Internal panic, meet external chaos.

Hastily, you backed and booted off the covers, flinging the rat triumphantly, all while hysteria screeched the notes of your voice. Van responsively sprang into action, armed with whatever object to chase away the unwelcome intruder.

The rat, not a fan of drama, scurried away for a swift exit, shortly merging into the shadows of the room.

“It's gone now.”

“Yeah,” you panted, “for now.”

Note to self: Speed dial a pest exterminator.

ASAP.

#lesbian #yellowjackets #van palmer #van palmer x you #van palmer x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets imagines #yellowjackets x reader #elurstwriting #fluff #yellowjackets fluff #wlw post #wlw

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batmanonthecover · 3 months

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Justice League of America #66 - November 1968 (DC Comics - USA)

Cover Art: Neal Adams

DIVIDED THEY FALL

Script: Denny O'Neil

Art: Dick Dillin (Pencils), Sid Greene (Inks)

Characters: Justice League of America [JLA; Atom [Ray Palmer]; Batman [Bruce Wayne]; Green Arrow [Olive Queen]; Green Lantern [Hal Jordan]; Superman [Clark Kent; Kal-El]; Wonder Woman [Diana Prince]; Snapper Carr]; The Dirty Half-Dozen (villains); Generalissimo Demmy Gog (villain); Professor Howard Aiken

Synopsis: Generalissimo Demmy Gog of the tiny nation of Offalia comes to the US and nearly defeats the JLA with a stolen invention that can affect morale.

Batman story #1,253

#comics #dc comics #justice league of america #batman #green arrow #the atom #wonder woman #superman #green lantern #neal adams #denny o'neil #dick dillin #sid greene #1968

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20th-century-railroading · 3 months

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flickr

Storming out of South Denver by Mike Danneman Via Flickr: Beginning its climb up the grade to Palmer Divide, General Electric U23B No. 6336 leads a smoking Santa Fe freight southbound on Colorado’s Joint Line on the afternoon of February 24, 1988.

#atsf #santa fe #1988 #trains #freight train #history #colorado

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fashiondisastertournament · 1 year

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🎉The bracket is here! Round 1 Group D concluded! + Round 1 Masterlist

The 64 fictional characters who will compete for the title of the Worst Dressed have been now selected. Thank you once more for your nominations! ALL VOTING WITHIN ROUND 1 HAS NOW CONCLUDED

The bracket is super tiny on Tumblr, so here are the matchups in text format, divided into 4 groups (A, B, C, D). Groups A & C have all the frequently nominated characters in them, while groups B & D exist to give a chance to those characters who were nominated only once but in a particularly convincing way or who just look exceptionally Disastrous! All matches have been randomized - but I made sure to put the two most frequently nominated characters on two different sides of the bracket, not to worry ❤️

ROUND 1: MATCHUPS & MASTERLIST

Group A (popular nominees; top left of bracket) VOTING CONCLUDED

Matchup #1: Taako (The Adventure Zone) vs Trexel Geistman (Stellar Firma) -> Trexel wins!

Matchup #2: Sanji (One Piece) vs Franky (One Piece) -> Sanji wins!

Matchup #3: Hunter (The Owl House) vs Harrier du Bois (Disco Elysium) -> Harrier wins!

Matchup #4: Raikou Shimizu (Nabari no Ou) vs Goro Akechi (Persona 5) -> Raikou wins!

Matchup #5: Kanatsun (Entropic Float) vs Leon (Pokémon) -> Leon wins!

Matchup #6: Konoha (Kagerou Project) vs Rui Kamishiro (Project Sekai) -> Rui wins!

Matchup #7: Pannacotta Fugo (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure) vs Sora (Kingdom Hearts) -> Fugo wins!

Matchup #8: Sock (Welcome to Hell) vs Midoriya Izuku (My Hero Academia) -> Sock wins!

Matchup #9: Shigeo Kageyama (Mob Psycho 100) vs Cecil Gershwin Palmer (Welcome to Night Vale) -> Cecil wins!

Group B (special chance; bottom left of bracket) VOTING CONCLUDED

Matchup #10: Gamzee (Homestuck) vs Tidus (Final Fantasy X) -> Tidus wins!

Matchup #11: Pico (Newsgrounds Museum 2 version) vs Hecatia Lapislazuli (Touhou Project) -> Pico wins!

Matchup #12: Alear (Fire Emblem: Engage) vs Captain Agent 3 (Splatoon 3) -> Alear wins!

Matchup #13: Mineta Minoru (My Hero Academia) vs Dr. Andre (Inside Job) -> Minoru wins!

Matchup #14: Wiggle Wigglebottom (Bugsnax) vs Tighnari (Genshin Impact) -> Wiggle wins!

Matchup #15: Daredevil/Matt Murdock (Marvel 616) vs Tingle (Zelda) -> Tingle wins!

Matchup #16: Lesley (Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared) vs Shouta Aizawa (My Hero Academia) -> Lesley wins!

Group C (popular nominees; top right of bracket) VOTING CONCLUDED

Matchup #17: Gabriel Agreste (Miraculous Ladybug) vs DIO (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure) -> Gabriel wins!

Matchup #18: Satan (Obey Me!) vs Naruto (Naruto) -> Satan wins!

Matchup #19: Teru Hanazawa (Mob Psycho 100) vs Leonardo (Rise of the TMNT) -> Teru wins!

Matchup #20: Neku Sakuraba (The World Ends with You) vs Julian Bashir (Star Trek) -> Julian wins!

Matchup #21: Nanashi (Shin Megami Tensei IV: Apocalypse) vs Rex (Xenoblade Chronicles 2) -> Rex wins!

Matchup #22: Ex (Puyo Puyo Tetris) vs The Sixth Doctor (Doctor Who) -> Sixth Doctor wins!

Matchup #23: Quark (Star Trek) vs Harper Finkle (Wizards of Waverly Place) -> Harper wins!

Matchup #24: Kusuo Saiki (The Disastrous Life of Saiki K) vs Zaphod Beeblebrox (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) -> Zaphod wins!

Group D (special chance; bottom right of bracket) VOTING CONCLUDED

Matchup #25: Ryu Natsume (Paradox Live) vs Lu Yi (Dislyte) -> Ryu wins!

Matchup #26: Hannah Montana (Hannah Montana) vs Willy Wonka (Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory) -> Hannah wins!

Matchup #27: Miuccia Miuller (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure) vs Gonzo (The Muppet Show) -> Miuccia wins!

Matchup #28: Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way (My Immortal) vs Leviathan (Obey Me!) -> Ebony wins!

Matchup #29: Haiji Senri (Len’en) vs Dick Grayson (DC) -> Dick wins!

Matchup #30: Raizou (One Piece) vs Serizawa Katsuya (Mob Psycho 100) -> Raizou wins!

Matchup #31: Blue Sargent (The Raven Cycle) vs Ghetsis Harmonia (Pokémon Black and White) -> Ghetsis wins!

Matchup #32: Jake Sisko (Star Trek) vs Condiment King (Batman: The Animated Series) -> Jake wins!

Questions? Concerns? Complaints? Please check the FAQ under read-more for answers!

And as always... may the Worst Dressed win!

FAQ

~"How is [x] character a fashion disaster? I like their look/ they're iconic/ they look alright/ etc. etc." First of all, this is a very lighthearted competition that doesn't mean to be negative or judgmental! A Fashion Disaster can sometimes be (affectionate): in some cases there's nothing more iconic than a bit of this pizazz. I like quite a few of the looks on this list (and sometimes dress much worse) but if they have been included, this means that either: 1) they have been nominated multiple times 2) they have been nominated at least once and whoever nominated them provided a very convincing or funny explanation of why they were a Fashion Disaster (for example by pointing out one particularly bad outfit - not necessarily their main outfit!) 3) they have been nominated at least once and upon looking them up, I noticed that they tick many of the boxes that were described repeatedly in other people's explanations of what they consider disastrous: e.g. clashing patterns, excessive accessories, crocs, bad haircuts, etc. etc. In any case, every poll will come with a brief explanation of why people have been nominating a certain character! To make sure that people vote informed ❤️ ~"Why are you randomizing matchups instead of seeding?" I totally see the value of seeding for most competitions, but this one here is largely unpredictable - a lot of characters got the same amount of nominations, and how Disastrous they are is entirely subjective. The competition is also quite visual-based - it's about looks rather than knowing a character, so it's more likely that people will vote for an unknown character than in other competitions, which risk becoming popularity polls quite quickly. Basically: I'd simply have no idea how to determine the ranking of most contestants here for proper seeding! That's why I opt for randomized matches - but I did make sure to put the two most nominated characters on the opposing sides of the bracket. ~"Why is [x] character not included?" There was a total of 174 unique characters nominated to this tournament! If the one you were rooting for did not make it, I'm sorry! One or more of the following was likely the cause: 1) they have not been nominated more than once 2) they have not ticked as many boxes for what other people considered disastrous as some other characters with a single nomination did 3) a lot of characters have been submitted from the same source. After choosing 3 most nominated ones, I couldn't include more! The rule is max. 3 characters per source. ~"Is propaganda encouraged?"

More than encouraged! Please tag me if you make any posters/posts/try to support your faves in another way throughout the tournament, I'd love to see and reblog it! ❤️

#fashiondisastertournament #updates!#polls

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fatecolossal · 7 months

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TWIN PEAKS: THE MISSING PIECES (2014, Lynch) x PERSONA (1966, Bergman) - near the end of both films

A nurse, in a distinctive nursing cap, cares for a largely mute patient in bed, & at some point is seen to take on some element of her identity...

Though the scene at the end of THE MISSING PIECES is short, it also parallels 3 other distinctive moments or elements from PERSONA: One, the nurse waves her right hand in front of Annie's face, just like the boy in the prologue to PERSONA waves his right hand in front of our face.

Two, we see Annie and the nurse reflected together in a mirror, just as in PERSONA we see Alma and Elisabet together in a mirror, in one of the most iconic sequences of that film. Notice also in the TP:TMP image above that there is a crucifix conspicuously hanging over Annie.

This crucifix brings out a third parallel, its Christian iconography echoing the Christ-like elements of PERSONA's symbolism, from that film's repeated imagery of a nail driven through a hand, to its moment of blood-drinking, to its mention of eternal life, & more...

The distinctive nursing caps/uniforms worn in each film further draw out these Christian parallels by arguably evoking those of nuns' habits, a comparison underscored both in PERSONA by its nurse being referred to as "Sister Alma," & in TP by Annie's past life in a convent.

In addition to the world of religious symbols opened up by each work's implicit or explicit monastic references, the nun allusions also tie in themes of sisterhood, silence, and renunciation that are relevant to both works.

Indeed, Annie's situation at the end of MISSING PIECES seems to intentionally be suggestive of a type of return to this monastic state of silence, seclusion, and an absence of men, one steeped in Christian symbolism.

While neither Lynch nor Frost are practicing Christians (both seem more drawn to Dharmic religions), Annie's Christian faith is strongly emphasized in the series, carrying on a streak in TP's symbolism stretching back to MIKE's "face of God" soliloquy & forward to FWWM's angels.

While the Nurse-Annie scenes in TP:TMP may arguably be viewed as somehow less important to TP canon, given that they were originally deleted, it's important to note the very strong ways that scene parallels Laura's critical, Annie-featuring dream sequence in FWWM:

Consider the ways the Nurse-Annie scene mirrors the Laura-Annie scene. In each: 1). Annie recites the same statement. 2). The jade ring is then passed on to a new person 3). The ring-bearer then sees a reflection, looking back over their right shoulder into a room with a bed

Indeed, as regards the "mirroring" moment, the construction is remarkably similar: we see a rectangular frame with a ring-bearing blonde looking over her right shoulder into a room with a bed. In the case of Laura, her outstretched right hand touches her shadow's hand; in the case of the nurse, her outstretched right hand (as seen in the mirror image) touches her left hand.

(Like the Annie-Nurse scene in TP:TMP, the Annie-Laura scene in FWWM arguably evokes moments of PERSONA as well, albeit here the parallels are more tenuous...)

(It's also perhaps worth noting a connection between Laura & a nurse made in the pilot episode, where a nurse stuffed-animal (a sockpuppet monkey?) can be seen in her bedroom.)

Other minor observations:

-In one of the few other notable elements of mise en scène in the TP:TMP scene, a painting of a lake in a forest can be seen behind the Nurse as she stares down at the ring (just before looking in the mirror), arguably evoking another iconic PERSONA image

-The design on Laura's lamp post seen in several shots of Annie distinctly resembles a divided heart (much like the wreath on the Palmer House door, both suggesting Laura's "divided heart" necklace).

-Note also the 3D "flower" scrunch-flourish on Annie's dress evoking a blue rose.

Much more could be said about all of the topics herein, including especially the links between PERSONA & TP/Lynch generally, as well as the links between the Annie-Laura scene and the Annie-Nurse scene, each of which is deceptively deep.

To end, here's a 2018 quote from Lynch on what motivated his choice to return to TWIN PEAKS: “For a long time, no itch. But at the same time, there’s a thing in FWWM where Laura is in her bed and she's visited by Annie. Annie says, ‘I’m in the Black Lodge with the good Dale. Write that in your diary’. That little bit right there held a string of dreams"

#twin peaks #fire walk with me #david lynch #persona #ingmar bergman #heather graham

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georgefairbrother · 7 months

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Areas that relied largely upon heavy industry, like the Northeast of England, were hit particularly hard by the Great Depression. On the southern bank of the River Tyne, Jarrow was just one of many industrial communities ravaged by unemployment, poverty, disease and starvation in the 1930s. Meanwhile, the National Coalition Government under Conservative Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin, appeared to be looking the other way.

'One Nation' Conservatism had seen Baldwin steer the Tory ideology toward a much more compassionate, inclusive and interventionist position, at least in theory. Nineteenth Century Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli had contended that the divide between rich and poor had rendered Britain 'two nations', between which there was 'no intercourse and no sympathy'.

In a speech in 1924, Baldwin said;

"…We stand for the union of those two nations of which Disraeli spoke two generations ago: union among our own people to make one nation of our own people at home which, if secured, nothing else matters in the world..."

According to Conservative Historian, Lord Alistair Lexden;

"…Tory policy was reshaped to advance the cause of 'One Nation'. Social reform became the Party’s dominant preoccupation for the first time in its history. The Conservative Party, Baldwin declared at the 1929 election, regards the prosperity of trade and industry, not as an end in itself, but as a means to improve the condition of the people…"

In 1986, a Jarrow resident during this period recalled to the BBC;

"…Pathetic. The Jarrow of those days was a filthy, dirty, fallen down consumptive area in which the infantile death rate was the highest in the country, and TB was a general condition…"

Jarrow Labour MP Ellen Wilkinson later wrote;

"…There was no work. No one had a job except a few railwaymen, officials, the workers in the co-operative stores, and a few workmen who went out of the town…The plain fact is that if people have to live and bear and bring up their children in bad houses on too little food, their resistance to disease is lowered and they die before they should…"

Palmer’s Shipyard, the principal source of employment since 1851, had closed down in 1934. Government unemployment benefits in those days lasted six months, after which responsibility was handed to the Unemployment Assistance Board, from which any tangible support was difficult to access and ultimately far from adequate. Eligibility was also subject to the controversial Means Test, first introduced in 1931. This meant that the combined wages and assets of all members of the household were taken into account when deciding whether or not individual unemployment relief should be forthcoming. In the context of the time, this was particularly humiliating for unemployed men who saw it as their duty to be the family provider.

Facing indifference from Westminster, the local Borough Council initiated a non-partisan campaign to try to bring employment, in the form of a new steelworks, back to the area. Two hundred unemployed men, selected from a pool of around 1400 volunteers, would march more than 280 miles to London to petition the government to establish new industries.

The marchers set off at 11 am on October 5th, 1936. As The Manchester Guardian reported, it wasn’t a hunger march, but a protest march. This was an important distinction in the context of the time, as the hunger march movement was seen as a communist initiative, one short step away from revolution, and a movement from which the mainstream Labour Party was keen to keep its distance. The Guardian also pointed out that at that time, less than 15% of the eligible Jarrow workforce was actually in work.

The Manchester Guardian;

"…There is no political aspect to this march. It is simply the town of Jarrow saying send us work. In the ranks of the marchers are Labour men, Liberals, Tories, and one or two Communists, but you cannot tell who's who..."

"...With the marchers goes, prominently carried, the Jarrow petition for work, a huge book with about 12,000 signatures, which Miss Ellen Wilkinson, MP for Jarrow, is to present at the bar of the House of Commons on November 4th..."

One marcher later recalled to the BBC, in 1977;

"…The spirit of the men was such that we were expecting something. We were expecting to prove to the capital, at that time, that here’s men from Jarrow. The spirit they had shown all the way down…Here we are, we want work and we are going to put our case that we must have work for the benefit of our wives and children…"

The marchers reached London by the end of October. A rally was held in Hyde Park, followed subsequently by the official presentation of the petition to Parliament by Ellen Wilkinson MP. The government remained unmoved, and there proved to be little or no immediate effect on economic or industrial policy. The men returned home by train, courtesy of donated tickets.

According to the UK National Archives;

"...To add insult to injury, the Unemployment Assistance Board officials in Jarrow docked the dole of the marchers because they had not been available for work. After the Jarrow March the Cabinet resolved to convince organisers that marches were unhelpful and caused unnecessary hardship to those taking part..."

Other reports suggest that the Cabinet's attitude was more about deterring any future protest marches, rather than concern for the marchers' welfare. Even the Labour Party itself was, at best, lukewarm in its support. Ellen Wilkinson had addressed their Edinburgh conference on the issue of Jarrow, but had found the agenda dominated by discussions of the Spanish Civil War and issues surrounding rearmament. There was even criticism of the idea of the march itself, and the physical burden it placed on unemployed and starving men.

Marcher Sam Rowland suggested that while the majority of politicians seemed unconcerned, public opinion was markedly different;

"…If the march achieved anything…it made the condition and lives of people a factor that should always be brought into consideration at the top level… and not left to work out their own salvation…"

The Guardian, BBC News and multiple other sources name the last surviving Jarrow Marcher as Con Shiels, who died in 2012, and who had felt that the march had made 'not one hap’orth of difference'.

For some additional context on this, @robbielewis has a fascinating article on Con Whalen, who passed away in 2003. He was the last surviving marcher who had completed the march in its entirety.

https://www.tumblr.com/robbielewis/716998502772785152/cornelius-whalen-the-last-jarrow-marcher?source=share

The next general election was held nearly a decade later, in 1945, as World War Two was coming to an end. Memories of the Depression era National Government and the desperate times of the interwar years would be a key factor in the landslide victory for the Labour Party.

References include BBC News, Liverpool Echo, Manchester Guardian archives, Spartacus Educational, Lord Lexden (Official Historian of the Conservative Party) (Website), BBC Radio 4 - Great Lives (Ellen Wilkinson), BBC Witness -The Great Depression and The Jarrow March, BBC History-Referencing Ellen Wilkinson’s The Town that was Murdered

#social history #uk politics #working class history #social justice #uk government #human rights #history #jarrow march #industrial history #industrial heritage #uk history #british culture #jarrow crusade #tyneside

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bethanydelleman · 1 year

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Do you know if dowries for wealthy families were usually predetermined standard amounts, or whether it was some function of income / number of daughters?

Looking at Pride and Prejudice alone, it seems that it’s about (income x 3) / # daughters: Mr. Bennet’s 2000 gives each girl about 1000 pounds, and Darcy’s 10,000 gives Georgiana 30,000.

I feel like that’s the wrong way to go about calculating a dowry, since I’m sure if Darcy had another sister she would also get 30,000, but I’m not sure how it was done, and some (light) research didn’t help.

Short answer: it seems like many women’s fortunes are made up of their mother’s former dowry, split between them. This may be added to, but the wealthiest unmarried women in Austen’s novels are usually from small families (or have few sisters), meaning less division of the original fortune took place.

Long and kind of rambly Answer:

First, we must remember that the #1 rule of Jane Austen finance is Never Spend the Principle. These people for the most part are living on the income of generational wealth. A good portion of this wealth is in land, but some is in investments. They never spend that money. (Also, a lot of the time, they literally can’t spend the principle, it’s in trust and protected by legal agreements)

When a woman marries, her fortune can be, and it seems like often is, preserved for her children in the marriage articles (legal agreement made at the time of marriage, similar to a will). We see this with Mrs. Bennet. She brought £4000 into the marriage, one additional thousand must have been supplied by the Bennet family, resulting in a safe £5000 for the mother and daughters. Now if Mr. Bennet was prudent, he could have reinvested the income on that fortune, resulting in very healthy dowries for his own daughters, but if course he didn't. (I have a whole post about that here)

Now here is an interesting point, the £5000 set aside for Mrs. Bennet and her daughters is not already divided. This means if the Bennets wanted to tempt a man to marry one of their daughters, they could offer the full £5000 as one daughter’s dowry. However, that isn’t what we see most commonly in Jane Austen’s novels; we see equal division. But we do see many fortunes that are not released until the death of both parents.

For example, here is Anne Elliot’s fortune: “a small part of the share of ten thousand pounds which must be hers hereafter”. Anne’s dowry is most likely in trust, unable to be touched by her father. However, the wedding articles probably give him a life interest and since he needs the income, she doesn't get it right away. Anne will probably get her money upon her father's death. This amount is most likely Lady Elliot’s dowry, divided between her daughters. Henry Tilney is getting a similar inheritance: Of a very considerable fortune, his son was, by marriage settlements, eventually secure. But it does not go to Henry until his father dies. John Dashwood inherits a similar fortune from his mother.

You can see here why it’s a problem if you marry someone who is penniless and you don’t have a big income! Mr. Bennet doesn’t have a big fortune to start with so he really, REALLY needed to save...but even Darcy is going to have to be prudent to give his daughter’s sufficient fortunes down the road having married the poor Elizabeth Bennet. Marrying for wealth wasn’t only greedy, it’s about maintaining this generational wealth. If too much leaves in dowries, you get into trouble. Or you have to provide less money and your daughters don’t marry as well as you desire.

Some of the large dowries we see are from trade: Caroline Bingley’s 20k, Sophia Grey’s 50k (the future Mrs. Willoughby), and Augusta Hawkins’s 10k (the future Mrs. Elton). Lady Middleton and Mrs. Palmer are the daughters of a tradesman as well. This is important because this money is new, which a lot of old families desperately needed after getting into debt. Many properties were entailed, meaning they could not be sold. If you got into debt, it was hard to get out because you can’t sell anything. And for families in trade, well-educated and wealthy daughters had a good chance of marrying up.

So, Georgiana Darcy’s fortune may well be the money that Lady Anne brought into her marriage. Importantly, Georgiana is an only daughter. I actually doubt if she had a sister that they would both have 30k, they might have 15k or 20k each. The wealthiest women we see come from very small families, like the wealthy Caroline and Louisa Bingley, Emma and Isabella Woodhouse, Anne de Bourgh, and Miss Morton, the only daughter of Lord Morton (S&S). Even Agusta Hawkins is one of only two children. Which makes sense because it’s hard to save, but it’s easy to just take the dowry and pass it on, which if you are an only daughter works out great. If you are Catherine Morland it might not work so well.

Further reading (though I must note this article has a misquote from P&P)

Also, Wives & Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell really gets into the problem of generational wealth and gentry slipping into poverty. Makes for an interesting study (The Hamleys of Hamley are the family)

#question response #jane austen #fortunes

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theprogrockbstheorist · 11 months

Text

BS Analysis no. 1: “Tarkus” as an Allegory for the Vietnam War

TW: Mentions of warfare and imperialism

Hello beloved progblr, today I am back with my first BS analysis, which is going to be on Emerson, Lake, and Palmer’s (ELP) 1971 prog epic “Tarkus”. For the unfamiliar, this is what I do on my blog: I primarily write essays analyzing progressive rock, or writing fan essays. Occasionally, I’ll make some shitposts and reblog cool shit, but if you like stupidly in-depth analyses on prog bands that reached their peak in popularity 50 years ago or stupid fan theories about those same bands, then you’ll like it here!

Now, for those unfamiliar with ELP (which I can’t imagine there are very many of you, as this is a prog blog), I’ll do my best to explain, however they aren’t my very favorite band, (I like them a lot, obviously, but I’m still kinda new to them) so if I make any mistakes, let me know! Emerson, Lake, and Palmer (more commonly called ELP) was basically prog’s first supergroup: all three members came from other bands prior to forming ELP in 1970. The only reason why I’m bringing this up is because their prior work, specifically Emerson’s (with The Nice) and Lake’s (with King Crimson), are going to be relevant in this essay.

Tarkus is the second album released by the group in 1971, following the live debut of the group in 1970, and the whirlwind success of their eponymous debut album released that same year. The album begins with a ~20 minute long Level Two Prog Epic, and one of the first prog epics, also titled “Tarkus”. This epic is what I’ll be focusing on, and is divided into 7 sub-sections, each with their own title:

i. “Eruption”,

ii. “Stones of Years”,

iii. “Iconoclast”,

iv. “Mass”,

vi. “Battlefield”,

and vii. “Aquatarkus”.

This helps to organize the events of “Tarkus” into something resembling a plot structure. Now, “Tarkus” (the song) doesn’t really have a plot itself, however, the inside cover of the album suggests something of a plot. Notably, the cover of the album contains an armadillo on tank treads, with the inside of the cover also containing a manticore and some sort of mechanized pterodactyl being destroyed by Tarkus (the creature). There are also several scenes depicting this plot: there is a volcano eruption out of which Tarkus is hatched (“Eruption”), a depiction of Tarkus destroying several animals, and then a scene depicting the Manticore challenging Tarkus, then a scene depicting the Manticore injuring Tarkus, causing it to retreat back into the water (“Aquatarkus”). Clearly, Tarkus is not meant to be the hero of the story: it is depicted as going on a rampage against innocent creatures, only to be stopped by the Manticore (side note: when ELP created their own label, they called it Manticore). On the surface, it appears to be a sci-fi/fantasy song about an evil creature, forged by fire, that is eventually quelled by an unlikely, organic hero, and forced to retreat. Sound familiar? An evil, mechanized creature that goes around, subjugating smaller creatures, until it is eventually forced to withdraw by an unlikely hero?

From the illustrations, one can infer that Tarkus is meant to symbolize the United States and their imperialist actions in Southeastern Asia, and the Manticore, Vietnam. As depicted in the album artwork, Tarkus is a high-tech character (noted by the use of guns and the tank treads) that is defeated by an unlikely hero, the Manticore. Furthermore, Tarkus is based on an armadillo, an animal unique to North America, whereas the Manticore comes from Old World mythology, with similar creatures being found everywhere from Greece to East Asia. When the album was released in 1971, the U.S. was still embroiled in Vietnam, and began an operation into Cambodia, further destabilizing the region, and causing another round of protests against these actions.

"Tarkus" being an allegory for the Vietnam War is further exemplified by the lyrics, which begin after the instrumental “Eruption” section, which questions whether “the days have made you so unwise” and whether the listener “can hear anything at all”. The song goes on to criticize religious institutions during a section called “Mass”, during which the phrase “the weaver in the web that he made” is repeated several times, and finally criticizes the futility of warfare in general during “Battlefield”, during which Lake sings the lyrics “You talk of freedom/starving children fall”. Section by section, it appears that “Stones of Years” is a direct address to those in power, questioning if they have learned anything from history, and whether they care to learn, “Mass” is criticizing those in power who have got themselves into a situation they cannot back out of without damaging their already ruined reputations, and “Battlefield” talks of the horrors of war. If the lyrics recorded on the studio version weren’t enough proof, when ELP performed the “Tarkus” epic live, they would often include “Epitaph” by King Crimson, which was written while Lake was still in King Crimson, in the “Battlefield” section. “Epitaph” is also an anti-war protest song that criticizes the leadership of humanity, with lyrics that state: “The fate of all mankind, I see/Is in/The hands of fools”, a pretty harrowing addition to the piece.

Speaking of careers before ELP, during his work with The Nice, Emerson was involved in an incident during The Nice’s performance at the Royal Albert Hall during their cover of “America” from West Side Story involving the American flag being defaced in some way. According to Jay Keister and Jeremy L. Smith in their work “Musical Ambition, Cultural Accreditation and the Nasty Side of Progressive Rock” (2008), he “repeatedly stabbed an American flag and burnt it onstage,” whereas according to Emerson himself, he only set light to it, and it was only an image of the American flag that was burnt without being stabbed. However, The Nice did intend for “America” to be “the world’s first instrumental protest song." Either way, The Nice did this intentionally while the American ambassador was present, leading to Emerson and The Nice receiving a lifetime ban from the venue (later revoked). In the aforementioned article as well, the authors also believe that “Tarkus” was indeed meant to be a protest piece due to Emerson's previous actions, as well as the actual content of the song and album.

When looked at holistically, it becomes evident that what appears to be a peculiar piece of progressive rock with a rather quirky cover of an armadillo on tank tracks is actually a defiant statement against the horrific actions taken by the US military in the name of “freedom”. Was ELP alone in making such statements during the late 1960s and early 1970s? Not at all, many artists protested against the Vietnam War in the form of songs. However, what makes "Tarkus" stand out is that it's meant to be digested as a package: without the album illustrations, the song becomes a lot more vague and unconnected, however without the song, "Tarkus" is merely the creature on the cover of the album, without any further depth.

I feel that one thing that people tend to forget about progressive rock, in general, is that it's never simply just music about wizards and shit. All these long suites and epics portray something deeper than just their plots, and that is especially poignant for something like "Tarkus" to get the respect it deserves.

If anyone is interested, please look up that paper I mentioned! It’s an excellent, short read. The interview in which Emerson gives his perspective on the Royal Albert Hall incident is here, around 11:31 to 12:23.

#prog rock #progressive rock #prog #analytical essay #essay #elp #emerson lake and palmer #tw: war #tarkus

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scrvletwitch · 10 months

Text

the yellowjackets letterboxd acc!

this is purely based on vibes and what I think they would like to watch and their favorite movies

lottie matthews

- she would have a picture of herself as pfp or maybe a picture of kate winslet as clementine in the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

- she uses regularly because of movie nights as a form of team bonding and her dates with nat

- she makes lists ranking her favorite movie sagas and her watchlist it’s always full (she forgets to watch them)

her favorite movies are

natalie scatorccio

- her pfp is a photo of one of her favorite artists or any women covered in blood

- she LOVES movies and knows a bit much about it, but hides it so people don’t think she is a dork. van and her had a movie club as kids

- she makes lists based on what she wants to watch and divides by genre. she takes spooky season seriously

her favorite movies are

shauna shipman

- her pfp is a photo of lady bird

- she’s more of a reader and uses goodreads way more but she enjoys to keep track of the movies that she sees.

- her letterboxd is basically full of rewatches, she only watch new movies with the team

her favorite movies are

jackie taylor

- her pfp is a photo of herself

- she uses it on a daily basis, she logs a lot of romcoms and musicals and constantly rewatches twilight

- she makes list of her favorite movies of all time because she thinks only four it’s not enough

her favorite movies are

tai turner

- matching icons with van (probably stu and billy from scream)

- she uses it like a regular person and likes to update her watchlist constantly

- she makes lists to try watch new movies each month, if she watches one or two of them it’s a lot but she keeps trying

her favorite movies are

van palmer

- matching icons with tai!

- they’re a certified cinephile, so they made the team get an account so they can share movie recommendations and just for the sake of being fun

- they take lists very serious, they make lists for each decade with their favorite movies. on october they and nat make spooky season marathon so they can be insufferable film nerds together

their favorite movies are

misty quigly

- her pfp is wednesday addams from the 90’s movie

- she uses it a lot, she likes to watch a lot of documentaries and “female rage” movies (she’s also a HUGE musical nerd because of crystal)

- she makes lists of the best femcel movies and she keeps track on the newest horror and thriller movies. she made a list with her favorites musicals

her favorite movies are

#yellowjackets #lottie yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio #shauna shipman #jackie taylor #taissa turner #van palmer #misty quigley

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canmom · 11 months

Text

cog in what machine

So since the VR games industry is the agglomeration of technocapital that’s currently permitting me to ‘continue to exist’, I am wondering - where are these headsets actually made?

Honestly the chances of getting a conclusive answer beyond ‘probably Shenzhen or TSMC’ is pretty low, but surprisingly I did find an article that claims to have taken it apart and found out where various parts come from. Here’s a breakdown by the price of the parts:

And the final assembly is done (for the Quest Pro at least) at the Foxconn factory in Taiwan. [For some context, the Quest 2 is a standalone headset with mobile phone chips, and it became one of the best-selling headsets ever, while the more expensive Quest Pro proved unpopular, and will likely be completely obsoleted when the Quest 3 comes out.]

Of course, that’s just one layer down the tree. Where the raw materials come from is anyone’s guess - you’d have to do some serious journalism to track it all down. Just like in computer software we create abstractions and interfaces over the ‘lower level’ components, in economics, each company in the chain only wants to know where it can get the materials and labour it needs, and at what price.

This whole process is so opaque. By making software for this machine, I’m in a sense put into a relationship with people all over the world whose fates are also tied to this industry. Even within the company I work for there are people from multiple continents, and we can all fit in one virtual room. I have little to no idea what it’s like to work on the other side of the chain. Back in 2018, I read a translation (by Chuang) of a satirical Marxist pamphlet distributed among Foxconn workers, with a bunch of pictures. It’s not some lurid dystopia, we all play the same games, but it doesn’t look like a kind of work I could manage.

It is startling how big the divide is between ‘people who work in tech’ and ‘people who work in any other industry’ in terms of pay, work conditions, etc. I can work the crazy hours my adhd-addled brain comes online, as long as the work gets done; the work itself is varied and interesting and creative. These guys have to go to work at 7am and work all day on a monotonous assembly line task. And similarly, some other poor fucker has to go down a mine to get the rare earth minerals needed to make high performance capacitors and all that. The only difference between me and them is that I was born here and they were born there. We both ‘work in VR’, for similar reasons on the high level of abstraction: we need to eat, and we think we’ll have a better life if we work in this industry than some other. But the context of that choice and the capacity in which we work could hardly be different.

All of that is hidden. You see a white plastic shell, a logo, a cute little chime, a fantasy environment. But even if I knew the names and faces of everyone whose hands touched this thing before mine, what good would it do?

I don’t know what role tech workers have in changing all this. “Meta” (formerly Facebook) is the centre of this particular web, but if Meta were to go bust, someone else would pick up where they left off. Back in the day, when industries were less diluted across the world, a strike could be organised in person across a shop floor and shut down a whole industry. Imagine if this company - all ten people! - all decided to go on strike for some end (say, solidarity with a strike in China or something)... well, Meta would have less games for their platform but it would hurt us a lot more than it would hurt them. We’re all separated by physical distance, political borders, languages.

I think maybe it’s worth reciting the story of the current age of VR. This guy Palmer Luckley made a company to turn this extravagantly expensive sci-fi technology into consumer hardware like a games console. It’s not the first time someone tried (c.f. Virtual Boy) but this time the tech was just about good enough and there was a lot more money to throw at wacky ideas like that, so it proved to have legs, and other companies got in on the game, and now it’s a category of desirable technological object you can own, like a smartphone or gaming PC.

Anyway, the story goes, his company got bought by Facebook, who were fantasising about a vaguely-defined ‘metaverse’ which will be like Second Life but better, or maybe an omnipresent AR layer over reality, or who the fuck knows what else - but in practice mostly just ended up becoming a games console manufacturer so they could operate the kind of platform capitalism that e.g. Apple and Google do with smartphones. Luckley got fired; now the fascist cunt works in ‘defense’ and ‘border security’, manufacturing cameras and drones and shit to stop people entering the US. He made a VR headset that kills you as a bit. So funny. (He’s doing his best to make sure people actually do die on the border. But haha, it’s just like in my Sword Art Onlines!)

I don’t think ‘arm of the military-industrial complex’ the general character of the VR games industry as a whole. Or rather, it is to about the same extent as videogames in general. And I don’t think the technology we enjoy must come at the [social, environmental] price ‘we’ currently pay for it. Computer tech in a less distorted world would probably look very different, but I don’t think ‘making a rock do maths really fast’ inherently implies the rest of the structure that gave birth to it. I think the joy that I get from spending my days making art on the computer is something that most people should have the option to enjoy as well. But goddamn do I not see a way to get to that hypothetical better world from here :/

In the meantime, this is the survival strategy. I think the direct harm is about as little as can be gotten away with: most of these things are beyond my power to affect whether or not I work in VR games. But it does give me pause to think about it all. :|

#stinks of marxism-flavoured catholic guilt despite never being a catholic #introspective nightposting #this is the other side of the coin to like 'what are the exciting game design possibilities of this medium'

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