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lordsthegames · 7 months

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Lords of the Fallen Sequel: From Slow and Tactical to Fast and Furious, and the Parallel Worlds Mechanic

Lords of the Fallen, the OG one, was all about that slow and tactical Dark Souls vibe, but the upcoming sequel with the same name is flipping the script. They're going for that fast and furious feel, think Deck13's The Surge and Bloodborne. And don't even worry, even though your character can't do the whole free-jumping thing, the exploration game in Lords of the Fallen is still lit.

Lords of the Fallen is doing its own thing by bringing in this killer mechanic – it's all about the parallel worlds, Axiom and Umbral. Axiom is where most of the action goes down in its fantasy setting, but sometimes you gotta dip into Umbral, either by choice or when the game forces you. Umbral's a dark and twisted place, with freaky monsters and bones decorating what used to be trees and rocks. Luckily, the player gets this slick lantern that lets them check out Umbral without making a one-way trip there. Whenever there's an unbreakable wall or a huge gap in your way, Umbral might just have the answers to help you keep it moving.

Lords of the Fallen is all about that Umbral realm, and once you step into it, there's no turning back until you hit the next checkpoint or catch that death penalty. They're taking a page from Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice with this two-life thing and trust me, Umbral ain't a walk in the park – it's often tougher than Axiom, so that second chance might end up being a total fail. The game also brings in some cool seamless online co-op action, where you and your squad can roll through most of the adventure together. According to the project leads, the world follows the host's lead to keep things synced up in Axiom/Umbral. And while you're enjoying this cooperative gameplay, don't forget to check out where to buy PS4 games to expand your gaming library for even more multiplayer fun.

Lantern's Versatile Mechanics and Character Classes Overview

One key part of the whole Axiom/Umbral thing is this lantern that lets players peek into the other realm. But it's not just for show – you can use it to Flay and Siphon Souls from enemies, which helps you rack up wither/stagger damage. Plus, you can extract Umbral parasites from tough enemies, but here's the catch – both these moves need you to wield the lantern in your offhand. So, if you're rocking a casting conduit or a shield, you'll have to switch things up. I'll be real, I didn't fully get the hang of this mechanic during the preview, except for sucking away those Umbral parasites. I'll have to dive deeper into the final build to vibe with the mechanics and appreciate what's going on. Lords of the Fallen's character creation gave us nine classes to kick things off. Eight archetypes were pretty much a match for Dark Souls' starting classes, and then there was the Condemned class, a blank slate with nines across the board in each stat. That class was all about flexibility and letting you build your character the way you wanted. And speaking of customization and choice, have you considered where to buy PS4 games to tailor your gaming experience to your preferences?

Lords of the Fallen, like, totally rocked my gaming experience, dude. So, for my playthrough, I rolled with the Inferno class. It started things off with a fireball, kinda like Pyromancy vibes, and a polearm. Now, that polearm, like, wasn't the quickest thing out there compared to what some other classes had, and my MP couldn't keep up with the whole fireball-spam thing in every fight. But when I could combine both of 'em, especially during boss battles, it was a legit build, no doubt. The RPG Site homie next to me went with an Archer-like class and wrecked the main boss in our demo with poison arrows, which was pretty lit.

Lords of the Fallen, like, totally had some limitations in the early game vibes before you hit the main hub. It was kinda, you know, not super clear how all the progression stuff meshed together, but don't worry, fam, those surprises won't keep you hanging for long when the game drops.

Gear Customization and Parry Mechanics

Collecting cool gear and customizing your look? Yeah, that wasn't a thing at the start. There were no weapons to find when you went off the usual path, and you couldn't pimp your gear 'cause the blacksmith homie wasn't chillin' in the hub. Bummer, right? But wait, there's more! One of the devs gave us a sneak peek of this sick scimitar and a light shield setup. It looked perfect for pulling off that classic parry and riposte move I'm all about, and I can't wait to flex those skills when the full game drops later this year. Oh, and speaking of parrying, it's not just about looking cool. It also builds up this gauge thing that knocks your enemies on their butts. For the basic foes, it's a quick takedown, and for the big shots like boss dudes, you can dish out some serious pain.

#Lords of the Fallen 2023

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keruworld · 3 years

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Feelings about KR Saber till ep10 (without spoilers)

I’m happy to have waited till ep10 to vent why I’m truly enjoying KR Saber more than prev series. Saber is delivering exactly where prev series failed. So just let me throw it all:

-THEME: Books! There is something magical about books, libraries, books stores. I just love it. And the take of children books in the gimmick is a really win for me in a KIDS SHOW. I love POPUPS books, in fact I did one for my graduation project, I know how difficult is to make them. So watching a POPUP in Saber was just so exciting for me.

-PROTAGONIST: There is a lot to say about our protagonist, Kamiyama Touma! There is something magical about Touma, starting with his wardrobe, personality and his book store. His book store seems like a magical place for children, with an awesome big model in center, plushies around, childrenbooks, pictures. Have a big heartwarming feeling for me that I almost cry in the first ep. It was like: I could have loved a place like that when kid, I could have loved an adult like Touma when kid. In fact, Saber first ep made me feel like a kid again, something that no Kamen Rider series had done… not in the first ep at least.

-PROMISES: I think this was the first and most interesting Touma’s traits that I payed attention since his description. The first BIG deception that a kid will probably have is about promises. Adults don’t compromise with promises, they lie, they always lie and us as kids learn that quite fast. Touma taking promises at heart being an adult is probably something unrealistic, but it has a big and good message that I love.

-STORY: till ep10 we don’t know exactly Touma’s backstory. But it’s obvious since the preview of the series, that Touma’s memory is important, in fact, all Saber plot revolves around Touma’s memory. We can say that Saber story is Touma’s story. There’s a PROMISE that in some point we will know. And if till ep10 we don’t know all, is because they are building things, for make us emotional, for hit us when the time comes (exactly what Build did), and ep10 is like a taste of what will become so… is exciting. There is a feeling of RUSH in the show’s pace, but I feel is because the toys. Toei/Bandai needs to sell toys so all the gimmicks and upgrades and stuff get a lot of attention and time on the episodes, but till now I feel they have done a good job trying to tell a story and sell toys at the same time. In fact, Saber have WORLD BUILDING, and it’s quite awesome how they have managed to tell us about it while selling toys. They still have a lot of things to tell about the story, about the world of Saber… but with 10 eps… this is only the beginning.

-CHARACTERS: I have already talked about Touma, but Saber offers a varied cast, that seriously put a smile in my face. Rintaro is one of the most heartwarming second rider that exist, Mei is a so extroverted and happy going heroine that feels unreal but makes you smile every time she is in screen; she is like a little girl. Kento, Ren, Ogami san, Sophia, Daishinji san, the villains: Storius and company, Calibur, Desast, the narrator Tessel, even if we don’t know exactly much about them… their characters and roles are so well stablished in the story and they interact. Saber have characters for move around and that’s good (can be a double edge sword but that… only time will decide).

-SUITS: I wasn’t a fan of Saber suits at first. But I loved the visual with the Pop Up book in the background. Saber suits are heavy with a lot of things and details and bright colors… but when you watch them in movement… they are graceful and beautiful. Hands down to suits actors, action directors and suit designers. Now I’m really loving the suits, they are truly made for move with swords. And yeah here comes the comment: the suits feel SENTAI like with the bright colors and even with the red, blue and yellow for the main riders. But… really? Visually… there is no way that a Sentai could look like that; they have more simple designs. Also there this stigma that because the riders in Saber works as a team… they are Sentai like. TEAM WORK is not only exclusive of Sentai. Team work is how jobs works, and here in Saber world… being a Kamen Rider is like a job. Sword of Logos is the organization where they work and the other Riders are comrades. Im quite loving how they work together, it’s heartwarming. TTvTT

-MUSIC: For some reason I love the OP, I keep listen to it… is slow but peaceful and warming, the visuals put a smile in my face with the main characters following Touma’s lead in a Pop Up like background. The dancing ending… another thing that people say that is SENTAI LIKE, but really? that dancing is no way a child dace… the steps are difficult and I feel it’s perfect for the show. Also love the background music that feels like a medieval epic.

-3D BACKGROUNDS: Saber is a series to enjoy in HD, have alot of 3D backgrounds and bright colors...some people could not like it (in fact i think most of people hate it). But i seriously think it’s good, it adds a magical feeling to all the series aesthetic. In fact i feel the 3D in Saber is better than prev series.

-PHRASE: “I determine how this story end” I love how in this ep10 was changed to “We determine how his story ends”. Be it I or WE, the phrase it self have the feeling of resolve and positivity.

Loving the series so far, it’s magical, lighthearted, it have books, knights, friendship, cool suits and sword fights, characters that interact and have the heartwarming feeling of human touch.

I don’t know if Saber will end being a good series… but have a lot to deliver… and I hope it does till the end.

I think i will do this again by ep20 to see how the series is progressing.

#keru watch #kamen rider saber #so far so good #saber just put a smile in my face #in one word saber is heartwarming

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bmoviedragonsreloaded · 4 years

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Review: The Russian Specialist (2005)

"Oh Christ, whoever you are, take whatever you want – I'm going to bed"

SOURCE

When Dolph Lundgren began directing his own vehicles in the mid-2000s, I thought it was a big deal. After Seagal and Van Damme fell short with their own directorial debuts a decade earlier, the Swedish Superman’s more economic outings in the video realm seemed like the stabler path for a western action hero to redefine himself as a filmmaker. I never assumed that Dolph would be our answer to Sammo Hung or Jackie Chan, but I still think that the surest way for the classic style of karate B-movies to survive the future is for the stars of yesterday today to become the filmmakers of tomorrow. Disappointingly, Lundgren’s sophomore outing is indistinguishable from the slew of already-undistinguished movies put out by the Nu Image film studio around this time. Expect cliches and limited action in a drab European setting, with some highlights.

The story: Former special forces agent Nikolai Cherenko (Lundgren) is hired to rescue a young woman (Olivia Lee) from the clutches of the same gangster who killed his family (Ivan Petrushinov).

I need to talk about Lundgren’s effort as a filmmaker before anything else. While his directorial debut (The Defender) happened by accident, The Russian Specialist seems to have been his project from the start. It was the first movie he wrote the story for, and there’s a general feeling of investment here not present in the features he’d recently done. That said, the film looks so very much like countless others the studio was producing that I suspect there was a lot of executive meddling afoot. Lundgren has a fair hand for interesting shots and artful cinematography, but they’re lost amid the cheap overexposure, senseless slow motion, and annoyingly sped-up footage. The Bulgarian shooting locations further stifle the originality, with everything looking colorless and boring. Say what you want about Seagal’s On Deadly Ground and JCVD’s The Quest, but at least they left an immediate impression.

Of course, taking a closer look at what may seem bland and unremarkable to others is what we do here at B-Movie Dragons, and sure enough, there are some things that make this one stand out. The best of these, without a doubt, is the casting of Ben Cross. He plays Nikolai’s contact and de facto partner, and darn if he isn’t better than this movie deserves. Cross is up there with Lance Henriksen and John Rhys-Davies as an actor possessing both talent and prestige yet who never fails to offer his time to smaller productions. You may know him for playing Spock’s father in the Star Trek reboot or starring in the Oscar-winning Chariots of Fire, but he also pops up in trash like Species: The Awakening and the odd Dolph Lundgren actioner. Here, at his best, he’s absolutely hilarious and certainly gets the best lines. (“From one old dog to another – shut the fuck up!” he admonishes a noisy German shepherd.) He’s got surprisingly good chemistry with the monosyllabic Lundgren, giving Nikolai’s stereotypical somberness some contrasted weight. Disappointingly, Cross is about it as far as standout performances go. Even though the cast includes several award-winning Bulgarian actors, these have either too little screentime or insufficient material to be memorable. Comedienne Olivia Lee feels particularly underutilized, her character having very little personality and she even less opportunity to express it. (There is an unintentionally funny moment where Nikolai’s handed a photo of her, and it’s the exact same headshot you can find on her IMDb page to this day.)

The action content is good enough that I’m disappointed there’s not more. It’s a decent mix of shootouts, vehicle stunts, and fighting. Lundgren was apprehensive to commit to hand-to-hand action scenes even before he started directing, and as a result, we only get a single match between him and a henchman in a strip club. It’s not even the lead henchman (Raicho Vasilev) – Ben Cross has to fight him during the climax. There’s a gnarly-looking crash into a fountain during a motorcycle chase, and a couple shootouts feature some well-executed choreography. If there were just a few more scenes like this, I would’ve been more satisfied. It’s understandable that Lundgren wasn’t nearly as flexible to shoot action scenes while he was directing all other scenes across multiple countries, but even the bandaid solution of giving his character a team of four mercenaries doesn’t help because they don’t do anything cool.

I’m not entirely sure what the point of the story is. Nikolai clearly must come to terms with his trauma and Lundgren delivers some respectable nonverbal acting to that end, but we don’t find out too much about his mental state and I’m not even convinced that he establishes genuine relationships with anyone. With the exception of one scene, Olivia Lee’s character is also unable to express her feelings. Ben Cross seemingly overcomes his alcoholism by the end, but I’m not sure how. The general thesis is likewise elusive. Lee’s character is being groomed as a sex slave and sex workers in general are protrayed sympathetically, but I’m not even convinced that the film stands behind the most basic notion of “sex trafficking is bad” because it still indulges in some masturbation fodder within the same context. I’m not saying the story sucks, just that it doesn’t commit to much.

Lundgren’s progress as a filmmaker was halted for a long time after he recaptured some of his old stardom with 2010’s The Expendables, but he seems to be returning to the director’s chair these days. If he remains free from the restrictions that made The Russian Specialist so unremarkable, he may yet become a valuable force in maintaining the gritty, physical style of action we know and love. As for this particular film, it’s probably best viewed as a decent but ultimately elementary exercise in the big guy’s movie-making education. Dolph’s biggest fans shouldn’t be without it, but it’s harder to recommend to more casual action devotees. Martial arts nuts like me shouldn’t even bother.

SOURCE

The Russian Specialist (AKA The Mechanik) (2005) Directed by Dolph Lundgren Written by Bryan Edward Hill (screenplay), Dolph Lundgren (story) Starring Dolph Lundgren, Ben Cross, Ivan Petrushinov (Longing for the Wide, Wide World), Olivia Lee (The Olivia Lee Show) Cool cast: Bulgarian stunt pro Raicho Vasilev (Spartacus) plays the lead henchmen. Action regulars Valeri Yordanov (Death Race 4) and Dejan Angelov (Leatherface) are mercenaries. Pop star Maria Ilieva plays the doomed, sympathetic sex worker Natalya. Second unit director Mark Roper was already a director proper, having helmed video and TV vehicles for Bryan Genesse, Joe Lara and Ralf Moeller. Fight consultant and karate master Barry Evans would henceforth be Dolph Lundgren’s personal choreograher for the next ten years. Content warning: Violence against women, child murder, sex trafficking, sexual assault, drug use, extreme violence and gore, alcoholism Title refers to: Both the title on the DVD case (The Russian Specialist) and the one in the movie (The Mechanik) refer to Dolph Lundgren’s character, who’s both a Russian specialist (i.e. special ops) and a mechanic. Cover accuracy: The classic cover, featuring a shotgun-toting Lundgren standing before the gangsters with Russian architecture in the background, is accurate and to the point. The newer cover with starker contrasts and a close-up of Lundgren is also accurate but conveys a comic book aesthetic that the movie doesn’t have. Number of full-length fight scenes: 2 Copyright Millennium Films / Sony Pictures Home Entertainment

#film review #film criticism #the russian specialist #the mechanik #dolph lundgren #ben cross #ivan petrushinov #olivia lee #action #martial arts

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mastrechef · 4 years

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I was getting frustrated with my lack of progress on my other writing projects and was apparently in a Naruto mood. I’m still working on it and just posting a small bit here. This was purely for fun and, while vague on the details, does not hold to the canon, because frankly it’s ridiculous and confusing. Just looking at all the uncertainties, discrepancies, and retcons in the timeline gave me a headache, so I opted to ignore a lot of it. Plus the whole premise behind this was to deviate from canon anyway.

Written in achronological snippets. The italicized phrases are song lyrics, so not mine.

Show no mercy, let the world see we're invincible

Show them nothing is beyond our control

Humans were selfish creatures. They took and took until there was nothing left. And they felt entitled to it. To take what they wanted and damn the consequences. Like that vile sense of absolute superiority made it alright for them to treat the world like their personal playground and all other non-human entities as fuel for their ravenous greed. Like humans were the be-all end-all of intelligent life and therefore allowed to dictate the rules. Even among their own kind the pattern was apparent. The strong were in the right and given free reign while the weak were nothing but fodder. They waged war carelessly and scrabbled for every scrap of power they could get their grubby hands on, perpetuating an endless cycle of hatred, pain, and death.

Of course, there were rare exceptions. Exceedingly rare exceptions, to the point of almost complete non-existence. And it just so happened that Uzumaki Naruto was one of them.

Kurama bared his fangs in a ferocious grin promising extreme prejudice to any who stood in his way. The humans had forgotten that there was always a bigger fish in the sea, a more terrifying predator hunting in the shadows. Graciously, Kurama volunteered to teach them a lesson and remind them of their folly. His feet pounded the ground with earth shattering force while his nine tails lashed the air. Anyone who dared to try laying a finger on Naruto would be crushed mercilessly.

...

And all that I regret

I have before, I will again

Kakashi jolted into awareness, though he didn’t outwardly show it, his body relaxed and his breathing slow and measured. Immediately, he was on his guard. Something was wrong. More than a few somethings even. The first thing he registered was the lack of the usual chakra drain from his sharingan. And yet, he could still feel it there, waiting to be activated. How was that possible? He’d never been able to control the activation of his single sharingan. What was going on? What had he been doing and where was he now? He couldn’t remember. His memories were a scrambled mess, another impossibility given the sharingan’s perfect recall.

He mentally shoved the confusion to the side. Right now, determining his current situation was the most important. Sorting his head out would have to come later. Kakashi turned his focus outward to glean any clues. He tensed minutely as he finally took notice of three others in the vicinity, berating himself for his carelessness. He was really off his game. By the sounds of their breathing, two were awake while the third kept watch. His breath caught when he got a whiff of a familiar scent.

Minato-sensei.

...

It takes an inner dark to rekindle the fire burning in you

Ignite the fire within you

Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of leaves, flickering with the wind and dappling the ground in little starbursts of light. It was this that woke Naruto. He groaned as all the aches in his body made themselves known. It felt like he’d been trampled by a herd of bijū and had the collective memories of hundreds of clones slam into his brain simultaneously. Trying to sit up was apparently a bad idea, only causing the pain to flare up stronger. He allowed himself to flop gingerly back to the ground.

“It’s fine, I didn’t want to get up anyway,'' he grumbled to himself. He was absolutely beat and would be quite content to sleep for the next fourteen hours straight. Racking his brain for a reason as to why he was in such a state, he came up blank. Whatever it was, it must have packed a wallop to put him of all people on his ass like this. Speaking of which, his friend was being suspiciously quiet. Normally, he’d be chewing Naruto out for his recklessness right about now. Or making fun of him, depending on the situation.

As though summoned by his thoughts, the fox’s voice rumbled through his head. “Go to sleep, brat. You’re still recovering.”

“Kurama?” Naruto pried weary eyes open to look for his friend. Something about the bijū’s voice was off. He wanted to find out what, but he was just so tired, and his body wouldn’t cooperate with him, and his eyelids felt like they were weighed down with lead.

“Get some rest. I’ll handle things for now.”

Okay. No problem. Naruto trusted Kurama unconditionally, so he would listen. Maybe once he’d slept this off, then Kurama would fill him in. He sighed in contentment as he gave in to sweet oblivion.

...

I'll take you away from your nightmare!

If only you would come with me!

I want to show you a better way, so you and I will finally be free!

The Fourth Shinobi War ended, and yet true peace was still a distant dream. The calamitous destruction brought about by the Jūbi only reinforced the fear of the bijū and their jinchūriki. Fear and desperation made people stupid or dangerous. Oftentimes both.

Kakashi raced towards the rampaging Kyūbi, worry gnawing at him. This couldn’t have gone more wrong. Everything was falling apart. They had already lost so many good shinobi, good comrades, and now if Kurama’s reaction was anything to go by, Naruto was in critical condition. The Rokudaime Hokage pushed himself to go faster.

The sunshine boy filled with false bravado had grown and matured, but he looked so tiny crumpled on the ground, blood spilling out around him. Kakashi used his chakra to hastily trace out a seal, one firmly ingrained in his memory even without the sharingan. Sealing was truly an invaluable skill and he was grateful for all the time he and Naruto had spent together working on it, because right now it was his best hope for getting Naruto out of here alive.

All that mattered was getting him away. Someplace safe.

Light blazed as the seal took shape. Catching wind of what he was up to, Kurama threw his chakra into the mix to speed them on their way. The three were whisked away in a clap of thunder.

Destiny unfurled in a new direction.

...

I never wanted this

I never asked for it

But this is what you gave me

Dread pooled in his stomach. His thoughts were already beginning to spiral and took all his concentration to pay attention to Kurama’s explanation.

“Naruto was not meant to exist in this time. The only way to prevent him from disappearing entirely was to merge with him. He had no body to inhabit, so I created this form from chakra alone.”

“So is he…” Kakashi could hardly complete the thought. The idea that Naruto might be permanently damaged from their little jaunt through time was beyond terrifying. Naruto was a precious light that washed away the darkness of Kakashi’s younger years. Not only that, but he was Kakashi’s last anchor to sanity, to life. Without him...

“He is safe. He simply needs time to adjust. Our consciousnesses remain separate, so while he sleeps I am in control.”

As much of a relief as it was to know that Naruto would be alright, his former sensei couldn’t help but blame himself. It was his seal that got them into this mess.

Kurama whacked him, surprisingly gently, in the back of the head, scowling. “Seeing as Naruto isn’t awake to knock some sense into you, I shall do so in his place. This is not your fault. If anything, it was my chakra that threw everything off.”

Well. Kakashi must look truly pathetic for the perpetually cantankerous fox to jump in to comfort him. He couldn’t help it though. As many regrets as he had, and as tempting as it was to have a chance to fix them handed to him on a silver platter, nothing was worth Naruto’s life. He would make use of this opportunity only so long as Naruto’s wellbeing wasn’t at stake.

...

Death would be an ample compensation

Even if it's my demise

But heaven doesn't want me

Blood splattered in a hot spray of red death, the sound of a thousand chirping birds fading back into grim silence. Nothing else stirred in the dead of the night. Anbu Hound pulled back his hand, covered in the already cooling lifeblood of his target. Another layer of blood that he would never be able to wash off. Another stain on his soul.

He left the lifeless corpse behind to regroup with his team, who had been taking care of the guards while he carried out the assassination. He wasn’t overly worried about them, but it wouldn’t do to get sloppy. One slip-up could be fatal. Kakashi would prevent that no matter what. The only thing he lived for now was to ensure the return of all of his comrades, even at the expense of himself. His borderline suicidal tendencies drove his team nuts, particularly Genma, mother hen that he was. But Kakashi was good at it. There was a reason that his team took the most dangerous missions. There was a reason he had the respect of every single member of the Anbu black ops. All the same, he kept everyone at arm's length. While he hadn’t managed to get himself killed yet, all bets were off for everyone else. One way or another, anyone he let close wound up dead.

Kakashi wouldn’t be able to handle it if it happened again. For all his strength as a shinobi, he felt as fragile as glass, teetering on the brink of falling and shattering into a million broken pieces.

#naruto #ficlet #naruto uzumaki #kakashi hatake #kurama #time travel #this started as random rambling and somehow evolved into a naruto fanfic?#don't ask me to explain how my brain works

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planetoban · 5 years

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Savin’s Answers from Twitter, Part 5!

Pretty much done with the backlog; this post covers tweets from November 2018 through May 2019

As always, tweets are in order from most to least recent, and answers may not 100% true/canon since things are bound to change during production of the sequel. Text is unedited save for formatting; in a few places I added [comments] for context.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Also: If you’re going to ask Savin something, please be respectful and appropriate. He’s a person just like you and me.

@NekoItoi: Will the bluray be released for Region A or solely region B? As I really want to finally own Oban in hd

@EiffelSavin: The bluray will be crowdfunded and region free

(x)

@Helloworld1012: Maybe U could get a adventures of young Aikka series funded

@EiffelSavin: Actually we're developping both a sequel and a spinof, which would reveal a lot about Aikka's past...

(x)

[talking about rick]

@Antarasis: Pretty metalhead. 👍 And losing your ability to pursue your #1 passion is such a heavy hitting topic. Was interesting to see a character confronted with it. Especially to see an admirable character give in to anger because of helplessness and make him act unpleasant/unlikable.

@EiffelSavin: I agree. Characters that are not just plain black and white are very interresting to follow.

(x)

@Helloworld1012: out of curiosity, Do U [Savin and Thomas] prefer the Eva & Jordan romantic pairing and prefer that Eva & Jordan be a couple or the Eva & Aikka romantic pairing & prefer that Eva & Aikka become a couple? I heard from a discord chat that U both have different views in

‏@Helloworld1012: who Eva should end up with. And do Romantically pair Eva with one of them.

@EiffelSavin: I don't remember disagreeing with Thomas over this and would rather leave the choice to the audience - both relationships are important ! This being said, the question of who Eva likes most may resurface in the sequel, if we get to make it...

(x)

@Xanidos43: is it still possible to get the newsletter? i would love to support and buy the blu ray upon release.

@EiffelSavin: There will be more newsletters to come. For now just register on the bluray page of the http://obanstarracers.com website

(x)

@Helloworld1012: Hey I’ve noticed for quite a while, that Aikka and Eva in the concept art physically look to be about the same age, please give us this one hint. Is the fact that Eva and Aikka look physically the same age in the concept art have something to do with the plot or OSR

@Helloworld1012: 2? Or is it just because you and @Thomasintokyo just wanted to show what Eva and Aikka could possible look like when their older?

@EiffelSavin: One possible direction for the sequel is for it to take place a few years after the original show. Hence the concept art. But this is still under discussion and would also depend on who finances the series

(x)

@Antarasis: Can we have a show about poor Muir, haha? Oh god, if I'd have the time I'd so make a parody show about Muir. There should be Muirs in Skyrim instead of mudcrabs. And Muir should get a skin in FightCrab. x'D Aaah, the potential of Muir. Please don't commit suizide, little crab.

@EiffelSavin: I could easily imagine a series about the adventures of "young muir"(!) Not sure we could get it funded though ☺️

(x)

@AldrenMcneal: Hi there! i recently watched an Oban Star Racers video and found out a potential sequel was in the works. i found your twitter and realized it was announced back in 2017. How much progress have you made since then? Do you have the story planned out? Thanks!‏

@EiffelSavin: The story is planned out but we need investors - and time as well, since we're all involved in other projects too. Hopefully a successful bluray release we'll help refocuss everyone's energy

(x)

@Bfahome: I heard rumors in the past that there's a "full" version of Oban's English opening, "Never Say Never". Are those rumors true and, if so, who would be the ones to have it? Would it even exist still?

@EiffelSavin: I'm not sure about this. I think the only version I ever heard was the opening version. For your info our US partners felt very strongly about using that song. I gave my OK because it was pretty catchy, even though the op credits were created to match Yoko Kanno's title song.

(x)

@EiffelSavin: Thanks a lot to the 1000+ #obanstarracers fans who took the time to answer our little survey. Here's what you answered to one of the first question asked. Among the alien racers, it seems Spirit made quite an impression #animation #anime #surveys #jetix #nhkbs #toowam

@MattGiusti: The lack of Sul on this list is very sad.

@EiffelSavin;: Sul came right after and would certainly have fared better if the question was who's your favorite alien character. Bear in mind that the list of choices here included some of the main characters of the show, like Jordan and Aikka and that one could only give a single answer.

@rhodanum: I'm quite surprised at how high Spirit ranked (higher than Stan, Don and Maya!) and that Jordan ranked higher than Aikka. The latter is especially surprising, given the gigantic number of fanworks (fanart, fanfic) featuring Aikka or Aikka x Eva, compared to Jordan or Jordan x Eva

@EiffelSavin: Aikka ranked first in some territories but overall Jordan came first - among the voters at least. I would be interesting to see if female and male voters voted equally - or predominantly - for one or the other...

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@GabrielAubry2: What happened to Prince Aikka after he returns to Nourasia? Won’t the Crogs on the planet be angry at what he did on Oban?

@EiffelSavin: Good question indeed but bear in mind their leader crashed on Oban and that there were fierce rivalries between the rest of chiefs. This must have slowed them somehow. Plus there's a new Avatar! 🙂

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@RakkuBoi: ust took the survey. It's probably asking for too much but one idea I expressed was the possibility of including autographes. Maybe on the art cards that might be included? Your's or @Thomasintokyo would be AMAZING.

@EiffelSavin: Point noted 😉

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@kueekueeng: from a fan who's been waiting for years, is "The 2 Queens" movie ever going to be released?‏

@EiffelSavin: Finding funding on the French market as proven more difficult than anticipated but we haven't given up and have also started working on an animated series adaptation, possibly with a more "radical" artistic direction. More news hopefully soon...

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@SonicMrgame2017: Which program you guys used for animation?

@EiffelSavin: Here are the programs the team used for the animation: Pencils (well sharpened), large and thin Erasers, and most important: thousands and thousands of sheets of Paper 😉

@SonicMrgame2017: Yeah, but, the animation was done in cels or you guys used some kind of digital ink? PD: Respects!!!! I love handrawn animation

@EiffelSavin: Oban used digital paint and compositing. When we produced the series it was the very last days of painted cells in Japan, where it lasted longer than in other countries. I think the last series that used painted cells was "Sazae-san". 🙂

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@quantum_cuboid: QUESTION. Can you give us any insight as to which characters will make a return in the OSR sequel? There were many good characters, and a few that make me wonder whatever happened to them!

@EiffelSavin: I'll give you one: Eva (!) 😉 For the rest I prefer to keep quiet for now but feel free to make suggestions ☺️

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[note: this thread is originally in French and I used Google Translate]

@supalinocelosu: So it was the authors directly who led the # ObanStarRacers

@ EiffelSavin: I think that should be the norm but apparently no ... I was also present during the English dubbing in Vancouver. But this time there was a director of English voices. I was commenting but not directly the direction of US actors

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@theinmaskedboy: Could you clarify a doubt sir? 1) What happened with him when he arrived on the earth, because at the end of the galactic race he did not mention again .. 2) There are some loose ends in history, like the crow .. Was he eliminated from the race? or just leave?

@EiffelSavin: Spirit did not make it to the final 3 so he was eliminated & returned to his home planet. Regarding Rick, his job was done so he went back home too. We had crazy plans of making a sequel with him starring as a private PI (!) Who knows we may reuse that in 1 form or another

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@Taibhse_Designs: Now this is a beauty to see, any concept art for the whizzing arrow or other paint job ideas other than the bunny exist that never made it to print?

@EiffelSavin: yes. We did more than 10 paint job tests before going for the actual ones :) That certainly could be something for the new art book.

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@Taibhse_Designs: I have the original DVDs still in good condition with the cardboard sleeve, I atleast rewatch the entire series once a year and would love a Blu-ray version. Would love to see some stats on the ships like actual scale, measurements, or official heights of the characters.Taibhse Designs added,

@EiffelSavin: That could be a cool extra actually, or something to add to a new art book. If you join the Oban Bluray Project newsletter on http://obanstarracers.com we'll soon ask you about the type of features and goodies you'd like to have.

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@TheRealZentron: The 1080p 4:3 version is the most crisp out of the three, but I like the cinematic scope of the 16:9, I just wish it was as crisp! Still, can't wait until the Blu-Ray comes out, hopefully it will be available to and playable in the UK!

@EiffelSavin: The bluray will be, for the first time, in the original rate of 24f/s and will be zone free‏

@TheRealZentron: That's great to hear Savin, thanks for the info! I'll sure to place my order once available, it'll sure be good watching OSR HD on my 70" 4K TV! Will the set also include the original Molly Star-Racer trailer in HD or the regular SD?

@EiffelSavin: I'm working on this. The pb is to get the rights to the music. In all cases it will be sd as it was produced that way but we'll try to upscale it in the best possible way from the best source available.

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[Original question deleted]

@EiffelSavin: That was my notes, yes: Maya cut off from her family because of her choice to become a racer with Don, and Don having old parents that died early. Thus no grand parents for Eve to turn 2. But since we never go beyond that in the story, U can make up your own idea on backstory 🙂

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@LovesOban: Please tell me because I’ve been obsessing over this, but even though he wouldn’t be as skilled as Aikka, Cannan or a Nourasian knight in martial arts, & Even though in 2082 DW isn’t the most athletic & even though DW is more brains than brawn & doesn’t have brute strength, in

@EiffelSavin: Don Wei is not a "big man" but he's determined and has grown quite tough, at least since Maya's death. Do you remember the first time he meets Rick and his biker buddies in the middle of the desert? He stands up to them pretty well, doesn't he?

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@HG_Alsmyr: are you going to have Thomas Romain join you for the Ōban sequel by chance?

@EiffelSavin: Yes. We've already started to collaborate on the sequel and spinoff projects. Working together again was very touching actually 🙂

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#oban star racers #sav! the world #sav the world #type:staff #type:text

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seeaddywrite · 5 years

Text

stars, hide your fires: chapter five

this chapter is a lot more schmoop than plot, but still important to the overall story. as usual, thanks to @soberqueerinthewild for motivation & listening to me whine & stopping me from repeating myself every other sentence.

chapter warnings: this doesn’t quite hit explicit territory, i don’t think, but it does come close, so please proceed with caution.

AO3 LINK

chapter index: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5

Michael’s up to his shoulders in the guts of an ancient Volkswagen when Alex pulls into the gravel drive of the junkyard. He’s either so engrossed in his repairs that he doesn’t hear Alex’s approach, or he’s just ignoring it under the assumption that Alex is just another customer trying to get repairs done even though business hours are over. Guerin’s the best mechanic in town, and though the people of Roswell are quick to dismiss him as the town drunk, they’re just as fast to forget that when their cars start acting up. It’s the sort of double standard Roswell loves: those people will beat a man until he bleeds and come back for a second round, but as soon as they need something, they’ll still expect their victim to bend over backwards for them.

It’s easier to relax now that Alex has Michael in his line of sight, and he exhales slowly as he slides out of the driver’s side of his of his SUV. His eyes linger for a moment on the way Michael’s body fills out the worn denim of his oil-streaked jeans, because he’d have to be dead before he stopped appreciating Guerin’s physique, but he’s not only looking for that, tonight. Sex is fucking fantastic, but he needs to fill a need more basic than that. He needs to feel settled in his skin, to be reminded of the man that he is now, rather than the kid he used to be.

Guerin can’t give him those things; Alex needs to do it himself, and he knows that. But for ten years, Michael’s arms have been the only place Alex has felt safe. While enlisted, he’d been afraid to replay those memories too often for fear he’d wear them out and forget completely, so he’d only allowed himself to think of Michael on the worst days, when he couldn’t pull himself together on his own, and even Michael’s imaginary presence was better the inescapable sense of isolation that came from being the only one who seemed to realize that military action was just another name for evil.

“Alex?” Michael’s in front of him, frowning in a way that suggests he’s been trying to get Alex’s attention for a while. “What’s wrong?” He wipes his palms on the bottom of his t-shirt, and for a moment, it looks like he’s going to reach out, but his hands find their way into the pockets of his jeans instead. “The meeting with your brother go bad?” The question is calm, but Alex is too good at reading the other man to miss the way his eyes immediately scan the horizon, as if expecting an army of MPs to descend upon them at any moment.

Alex shakes his head quickly, not wanting to cause any unnecessary fear. “No, no. It went --” He grapples for the right word, and gives up. “Charlie bought the story. He’s reaching out to Flint and Hunter as we speak, so I should have access to the Project within a week, as long as Hunter’s on base and not off comms.” The information comes quick and succinct, a post-op briefing, and Alex looks away afterward. Michael’s not his commanding officer, and Alex knows that, but asking for what he actually wants is harder than it should be now that he’s standing so close to it.

“Okay,” Guerin drawls, batting a rogue curl away from his forehead. “You wanna come inside? I need to change. And probably shower.” He glances down at himself, as if just noticing the mess of oil and sweat masquerading as clothing. “Or you can head to Max’s, and I’ll meet you in an hour -- Isobel’s staying there until all this blows over, and Liz has basically been living there since we brought him back, so dinner’s pretty much an open invitation for a while. You can fill us in, and we can keep planning, maybe come up with some contingencies in case shit goes sideways.”

Normally, the promise of sitting down to dinner with their friends would be a good way to end a shitty day, but right now, Alex wants to have Michael to himself for a while. “Do you think we could go over later?” he asks, squinting into the sun in an effort to meet the other man’s eyes. “I want to go, I just -”

Guerin looks at Alex for a long moment after the sentence trails off, then takes a slow, uncertain step forward. “It seems like you’re asking me for something,” he says finally, his voice quiet and eyes searching. Beneath his gaze, Alex feels like his every insecurity and anxiety is written on his face; no one’s ever seen him like Guerin has, and it used to terrify him that someone could look at him and see the man he is beneath the surface. It’s taken Alex a long, long time to accept himself for the man he is, rather than constantly judging himself against others -- in fact, it’s still a work in progress. But he knows he’s made some, because now, Alex looks at Michael and revels in the fact that someone can know him like that and want to stick around anyway.

“But I don’t know what it is, Alex. You gotta tell me what you want. I’m not the mind-reader, remember?”

It’s fair. Alex is pretty sure Michael has a pretty good idea of what he wants, or at least a reasonable guess, but they said that they’d talk about the two of them after the mission was complete. Right now, the mission’s barely started, no one is really safe, and they haven’t talked about anything. It’s probably wrong for Alex to do this, to show up here looking for refuge without any explanation or attempt to ask permission, but he can’t bring himself to leave, either. So instead, he swallows, and closes the short distance remaining between their bodies.

His palms land on either side of Michael’s face, and Alex tilts his head to rest their foreheads together. Guerin’s skin is tacky against his own, damp with sweat, but Alex barely notices. He just holds Michael there for a minute, wishing, for once, that he could just reach into Alex’s mind and take the explanation from his thoughts. Michael turns to granite against him, still and rigid, but he doesn’t pull away. That’s all the permission Alex needs.

“I spent all day pretending to be someone I’m not,” Alex says with Michael’s breath against his cheek. “And Charlie -- I think he was trying to protect me, and I was manipulating him. And I have to work out how I feel about that, and what comes next, and I just wanted to be somewhere safe to figure all of that out.” The explanation is disjointed, and the emotions connected to it are too, even for Alex; he can feel, but everything is separate, confusing, like images twisted in a kaleidoscope.

“You wanted to be somewhere safe,” Michael repeats, a strange vulnerability in the words that Alex doesn’t understand. “And you came to me?”

Alex blinks, and steps back enough that he can see Michael’s face, but his hands linger on broad shoulders that have suddenly gone tense beneath his touch. “Should I -- not have?” he asks warily, trying to figure out what he’d said to cause this reaction. He’s fairly sure it wasn’t the touching. Guerin seemed fine with that. But how is admitting that he’s always been Alex’s safe place to land a bad thing? Surely he already knew that? “Do you want me to leave?”

“What? No! No, I --” Alex watches as Guerin’s throat works, trying to ignore the way his stomach twists in uncertainty. “I just meant that I haven’t given you any reason to feel safe around me, lately,” Michael says finally, the words blunt and forceful. Again, Alex is left floundering, trying to figure out how the hell they got here when only moments ago, Michael had seemed calm. But now, his expression is shuttered, closing Alex out of his thoughts and leaving him guessing. This isn’t what he’d been expecting when he came here, and part of him wants to shove his fingers in his ears and tell Guerin to stop talking, to leave it until after the mission like they’d agreed, but he knows he can’t. Not unless he’s prepared to turn around and leave, and Alex knows he won’t be able to do that. Walking away from Michael has always been too damn hard, and now, with no good reason, Alex knows it’ll be all but impossible.

“Fuck, Alex, the last time you wanted to talk, I stood you up and went to Maria,” Michael continues, his voice a raw strain of vocal cords. “I lost my shit after Caulfield, and what happened to Max, and you kept bailing me out, and got dragged into all of it -- and now you’re lying to your brother and feeling shitty about it because of me. Don’t you ever think about how much easier your life would be if you just told me to fuck off for good?”

Alex can’t look at Michael anymore, not when he’s talking like that. This day has already worn on him more than he wants to think about, and this conversation is fraught with pitfalls and potential missteps, and Alex knows that he’s not going to be able to navigate it safely. But there’s no way to avoid it now, not without allowing Michael to believe the things he’s saying, and he’s literally sick to his stomach at the thought of it.

“No,” he says bluntly, his fingers digging into Guerin’s shoulders in a pathetic effort to keep the other man close. They’ve talked about Maria and the thought processes that led to Michael in her bed, and Alex doesn’t think they need to discuss it further -- certainly not today, when the thought of the other man with someone would sound far too much like another rejection. So he skips over that, choosing to focus instead on the rest of it.

“I don’t, because easy doesn’t mean shit to me, Michael. Nothing in my life has ever been easy. So if I have to fight for the things that make me happy, then fine. I’ve been fighting other people’s wars for what feels like my entire life. At least I chose to fight for you. And I’m going to keep choosing this fight, whether it makes me feel like I’m losing myself or not, because it’s the right thing to do.”

Alex’s hands slide down Michael’s shoulders to his hands, and he squeezes tightly as he tries to explain himself. “With them, with Charlie and Flint and everyone on base, I have to play a part. I have to act like a Manes, take orders, and keep my head down, and I’m going to have to do things that I hate. That’s what I signed up for. No one made me do that, and I’m not changing my mind.” He forces a fierce decisiveness into that statement, though it’s not clear whether he’s directing it toward himself or Michael. “I was just really hoping you’d be willing to help remind me who I really am, afterward.”

Allowing himself to be vulnerable isn’t something Alex is particularly good at, but there’s a waver in his voice that he can’t hide, and there’s no uniform or mission talk to hide behind, now. All of his cards are on the table -- what he wants, what he’s going to have to do, why he’s here -- and it’s up to Michael to call or draw.

There’s an achingly long moment in which Alex is sure Michael’s going to brush him off, to pull that damned devil-may-care smirk out of his back pocket and secure it over the naked longing on his face, but he doesn’t. Alex’s eyes slide closed in relief as Michael just nods, and curls a possessive hand around the back of his neck to pull him in. “Sorry,” he mutters, as Alex presses his face into the damp skin of his neck, relief like a cool breeze down his spine. “Max kicked me out of his place earlier because I couldn’t relax and was putting everyone else on edge. I kept thinking about you alone with someone who might hurt you, and --” he shrugs, trailing off with a bitter twist of his lips.

Alex sighs, and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the warm skin beneath his lips. “I’m okay,” he promises quietly.

Michael’s explanation puts his earlier reaction into new perspective, and Alex feels guilty for not understanding sooner. The other man had been against the plan from the beginning, and had only ever agreed because Alex made it clear that no one could stop him. He’s been worried for Alex’s well-being from the start; Max and Liz and the others might know that his family was messed up and hurt him, but Michael knows the details. He understands exactly what this mission could do to Alex, and he wasn’t even allowed to come provide back-up from a distance for the meeting this morning, though he’d lobbied to do so. Of course he’s anxious today, just as Alex would be in his place.

“If we can go inside, I’ll let you check for yourself, if you want,” Alex offers, and wonders how long they’ll last before their clothes are scattered across the small floor of the trailer and their bodies are tangled together. They’ve never been good at spending time alone together in confined spaces without something escalating; the electricity between them is hard to ignore in a room full of people, but once the only eyes on them are that of the walls surrounding them, it’s all but impossible. Sometimes that energy manifests in wandering hands and slick skin-on-skin, and sometimes, on bad days, it turns into shouting matches and barbed words aimed where they hurt most.

Michael huffs an amused sound against the top of Alex’s head and pulls back, just to join their hands and lead them back toward the trailer. Alex follows easily, and as soon as the door has closed behind them, allows himself to be drawn back into a heated kiss. He gasps into Michael’s mouth in surprise, then finds himself shoved back against the door with hands rucking his shirt up past his stomach before he can get his hands on the other man at all. When he catches up, they land in Michael’s hair, using the grip to angle his mouth better against his own.

Warm, calloused palms move from his abdomen up his chest, and when Alex’s shirt disappears over his head, he tries to follow suit with Michael’s -- but he stops him with a gentle grip on his wrists. It takes him a moment to realize in the fever of the moment that Michael is taking him at his word, checking every inch of exposed skin with his free hand for injury. Alex tips his head back against the wall with a hollow thud and gives himself over to the inspection, trying to catch his breath.

“I told you,” he manages, biting back a moan when Michael’s searching touch slips below the waistband of his pants. “He didn't hurt me, Guerin. I’m okay. I’m here with you, and I’m okay.” Alex’s eyelids slam shut as the fly of his pants is undone, and despite his best effort to calm himself down, he knows exactly what Michael looks like on his knees, and he can’t help but picture it when he hears limbs hit the tin floor. The low-lidded, heavy look in his eyes, the flush that spreads across his cheeks when Alex is naked in front of him, the enthusiasm with which he leans in--

“You’re not gonna stop me?” Michael asks roughly, his breath hot and humid against Alex’s skin.

Alex draws a shuddering breath and opens his eyes, then dips his chin to look at Michael. The image is exactly like he’d pictured it, and lust hits him hard in the stomach. He tamps down on it immediately, and forces himself to ask, “Do you want me to?”

Guerin shakes his head forcefully enough that his curls fall in his eyes, fingers curling into Alex’s thighs for balance. “I want this,” he says raggedly, pressing a kiss against one exposed hipbone. “I want you, and I’m tired of waiting.”

This isn’t what they had planned, but Alex doesn’t give a shit anymore. Maria and all of the reasons they hadn’t managed to make this work before seem small and far away in comparison to the threat of what they face now -- Alex wants things solidified with Michael, wants to move them from the amorphous something they’d been for the last year to partners in every sense of the word, and if it’s selfish, he’s not sure he cares anymore. If he’s going to survive running with his brothers for any length of time and involving himself in their dirty work with his soul intact, then he needs Michael’s anchoring presence. And maybe it’s hubris, but he’d like to think that need goes both ways.

“No more waiting,” Alex promises, and they lose themselves in the refuge of one another.

It’s hours later, as they’re getting dressed to head to Max’s for dinner, that Alex has to destroy the contented silence between them with painful, gory reality. “Charlie told me I needed to think of a way to prove myself to Flint and Hunter,” he says quietly, pausing in the middle of securing his prosthetic over the stump of his leg. “It’s going to have to be something big, if I want to convince Flint. He told Charlie about Caulfield, that I blew it up on purpose to fuck Dad over or something.”

Michael’s foggy, post-sex look disappears as soon Alex starts talking, and the sharp, intelligent expression that replaces it reminds Alex that while Guerin is usually happy to let others talk over him and consider him the town drunk, there isn’t anyone in Roswell that can match his IQ. “Sounds like you already have a plan,” he says, sliding a clean button-up shirt on over his bare chest. As usual, Michael leaves way too many of the buttons undone, revealing a wide swath of skin.

Alex bites at his lower lip and finishes with his leg before answering. “You’re not going to like it, and Isobel is probably really going to hate me for suggesting it, but I can’t see any other way. Obviously I’m not giving them any of you, and I have to be careful what information I let on that I have, in case it leads back to you.”

A calloused hand cups his chin, forcing Alex to look up at Michael. “Alex. Just tell me what you’re thinking, and we’ll figure it out,” he says firmly, and there’s not an inch of give in the words. Like it’s just that easy. Like it isn’t going to dredge up all sorts of painful memories for everyone involved, like it isn’t disgusting and disrespectful and in direct conflict with every moral that Alex has left.

But Alex has already committed to moving forward with this operation, and unless Michael or one of the others has a better idea, this is all they’ve got. So he drags in a deep breath, rests his palm over the back of Michael’s hand, and asks, “Do you remember where you buried Noah’s body?”

#stars hide your fires #multi-chap #my fic #malex fic

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caddy-whump-us · 5 years

Text

More? More! Marisol’s (Dr. Marisol Gutiérrez) character is developing even as I write: it seems she was a researcher involved with The Company (Jamf Research? IDK yet) that developed Julian but she was only involved in earlier iterations of the project. After a crisis of conscience, she got out (a story in and of itself) and got involved with Jack, Ryan, Phillip, and the rest. Phillip (Dr. Phillip Yeoun) was never involved in the project, but found himself involved in the “resistance” side of things through Jack--details still evolving. Anyway:

This is kind of long and a bit of a mess but it follows these events and sets things up for later. Julian is still under observation in his quarantine cell. Marisol has been monitoring him for most of the night (via camera feed) in the hopes that he’ll start showing signs of memory recovery. (Also, I think Phillip and Marisol are work-spouses, so that’s rad.)

Phillip pushed open the office door bearing aloft a cardboard tray in which stood two coffee cups. “Doctor.”

Marisol leaned back from the desk and computer monitor and rubbed her eyes. “Ah. Doctor.”

Stupid routines and inside jokes are sometimes the only way to get along without screaming.

Phillip set Marisol’s cup next to her keyboard, picked up his own from the tray and took a sip. Hot. “What’s the news this morning?”

“He’s taken his shoes off.”

“Okay...” He sipped.

“You probably weren’t at the house enough to see it, but he stayed barefoot around there a lot. I never quite figured out if it was conditioning or preference.”

“But he’s taken his shoes off now, so--”

“Don’t get your hopes up, but he could have some memory recovery, if being barefoot is his preference. Or he may think he’s off his mission, so he may have gone back into kind of a holding pattern. It’s too soon to tell.”

“Is he sleeping at all?” Phillip asked over the rim of his cup.

“If he is, it’s only ten or fifteen minutes at a time and he’s sitting up for it.”

Phillip dropped into the chair next to her and they both studied the gray, green, grainy feed coming up from the quarantine rooms below. Julian was still, sitting in half-lotus (barefoot) with his back against the far wall. Then, movement: he rolled his head on his neck, ducked his face to his chest, and yawned.

Phillip sat back with a sigh. “Even comatose patients yawn.”

“Yes, thank you, doctor.”

“You’re welcome, doctor.” And Phillip saluted her with his cup.

They were quiet for a time, both looking at the camera feed, waiting for some sign that might or might not come. Julian was still. Phillip spoke at last:

“Are you sleeping at all?”

“I survived my internship. So this? This is nothing.”

“No, I mean it. You know more about the project--”

“--I know.”

“We need what you know,” Phillip said, “but we also need you healthy.”

“I’ll be fine.” She waved him off.

“Marisol,” and Phillip’s voice was grave, “is this some kind of penance?”

Marisol turned back to the screen and spoke almost brightly, almost cheerful, “I broke the oath, Phillip. ‘First, do no harm.’ And I hurt him. Because I did the research that kept the project going until it was used on him. He survived when so few others did because of my research to get the right sequences and viruses. I hurt him, Phillip. So if it isn’t penance, it’s at least an apology.”

Phillip said nothing at first. And they were quiet, side by side, for a time.

“Have you talked to Ryan about this at all?”

She shrugged. “Back when Ryan was in with them, it was all military research contracts. They were looking ways to take any kind of volunteer and make them into high-alert special-ops types. They were trying to build an army, not...breed one.”

And they both looked at Julian’s small shape on the screen, crouched on the floor, in his quarantine room.

“It’s the memory issues that really give me pause. It’s so global. When I was involved, it wasn’t at all this sort of--”

“Meatball surgery?” Phillip suggested, sipping at his coffee again.

Marisol snorted, “Meatball surgery.”

Phillip counted that near-laugh as a success.

“They can do detailed memory alteration,” she went on. “They’ve been able to do that for years. It’s to the point that they can spark or deaden individual neurons. After all, they did it on me. They snipped out what they wanted and left the rest intact--with no reversal.”

She stared into the monitor, chin in hand.

“No reversal that you know of,” Phillip said.

She didn’t answer but still turned toward him and leaned on the arm of the chair. “Why not perform the alterations on his memory before the genetic enhancements? Create the scar-tissue before implementing the accelerated healing. They’ve all but set themselves up for failure, having to go back and block his memory all over again every few months. No sooner have they set up the amnesia, but he’s starting to recover from it. Is it a control tactic--to make him dependent on them? It is to keep him disoriented? Is there a memory boost from the enhancements they didn’t want to lose? I’m still trying to figure it out.”

Listening, sure, but Phillip leaned forward towards the screen.

Julian was up off the floor. Dusty, dried-mud footprints followed him from the corner to the sink. And Julian himself was standing, leaning over the sink. Distantly came the tinny sound of splashing water over the computer speakers.

“What’s he doing?” Phillip asked, still staring.

“He’s washing his face…” Marisol said, trailing off, trying not to let too much hope color her voice.

“Can we get Ryan on the phone? I want the boyfriend down there.”

“Call him. They’re both at Jack’s apartment right now.”

But even as Phillip was jumping up, leaving his chair spinning, he stopped at the doorway and spoke over his shoulder: “Marisol, how many more kids like him do you think there are still?”

A faint vision: white rooms and perfect lighting; endless tanks of frozen embryos; the cold stir of clouds of liquid nitrogen; needles finer than a human hair; artificial wombs and clumps, clusters, spines, hearts growing therein; fetal heartbeats in glass chambers; the human zoo; synthetic amniotic fluid that smelled faintly of maple syrup; jokes flipping between the Nobel and condemnation; pieces of small, translucent bodies but not the whole; life support for prenatal infants; steady streams of response testing and in-utero (“in-utero”) tests; cell cultures; the failures; the “births”; the newborn children. Meatball.

It was easy to trace the progression forward, branching out towards the behaviorists, the early developmental encouragement, the Skinner Boxes and dime-store Pavlovian conditioning, the new plan for foster parents, the obligate activities for the children, the expectations and the results, forward even unto this ever moment. But where was the root? Following back all the umbilical cords, placenta to cord to navel, placenta to cord to navel, in that bloodied tree, who was first? Who was the Zero? Who was the Firstborn? And now, who held the leash? What word had started the cascade and whose voice had sounded it?

“I don’t know. And sometimes I wonder if that’s what they had me forget.”

“Hey, Avery! Get your stuff--we’re going to see your boyfriend!”

His face was different: not the hard, sharp mask he’d been wearing at first, but softer now and faintly dazed. Even his eyes were roving more slowly around the small room (cell?), drifting and studying the ceilings, the patterns of lights, the doctors or nurses or researchers who passed by, the movement of the curtain in a thin stream of air, thoughts behind his eyes, sniffing the air.

And Avery smiled seeing him looking around the room, all moving lines instead of spiky planes and hidden teeth like he’d been before. Good. He sat down in front of the glass again and Ryan kept just aside, ready to move, ready to guard once again.

Julian came pacing over, slower this time than before, not a strike, just curiosity--again, so catlike in this half-crouch, curious. And he sat in front of the glass and yawned again.

Avery, slowly, hesitantly, laid his hand flat against the glass again. “Do you still recognize me?”

Julian mirrored him, setting his hand, palm to palm, though still divided, against Avery’s. He nodded, once.

“Do you--do you remember how we met?”

This time he shook his head, once: no.

“But you still recognize me.”

A nod. And he yawned again.

“Well, I guess it’s a start.” And Avery did his best to smile.

Julian didn’t (didn’t or couldn’t, Ryan wondered) return the smile. But he leaned forward, resting his face against the glass, resting his face against the glass as though he were lying against Avery’s shoulder. And he stayed very still for a time.

His eyes opened as Ryan passed behind Avery and his eyes followed him as he went to the electronic lock that kept the glass between them. Julian closed his eyes again. And Ryan reached for the silver keypad.

A voice popped from the intercom speaker near the keypad. “Don’t do that, Ryan.”

“Hey Phillip?” Ryan called into the air, “Trust me that I know what I’m doing here.”

Seven keys, a series of clicks and sounds, a tinny warning, another code, another warning, and then, a rush of air as the glass panel slid away from between them.

Julian tumbled forward into Avery’s arms--skinny, dirty, barefoot Julian slumped against Avery, one hand thrown over his shoulder.

A woman came running from somewhere back in the soft corridors near the elevator. She carried a pale blue blanket and knelt down beside Avery and Julian. “Is he all right?”

“He’s asleep,” Ryan answered.

“Finally.” She draped the blanket over Julian’s shoulders and checked his pulse from the hand hanging loose on the floor. She whispered, “I’m Doctor Gutiérrez. I’ve been monitoring him since he was brought in.”

Julian settled a little deeper against Avery’s chest. He smelled of dirt; his breathing was slow. Avery was looking down at his face and said nothing but his eyes were bright and wet.

She set one hand on Avery’s shoulder. “Can you pick him up?”

“Yeah,” Avery said, wiping his eyes, “Easy.”

Blanket and all, he scooped Julian into his arms--he weighed nothing, or next to nothing. Never tall or broad-shouldered, always on the skinnier side of the politeness of “thin,” Julian seemed thinner and smaller than Avery remembered. But he was asleep, with one hand hooked into the front of Avery’s shirt, and that was all right. Following Ryan, who motioned him along, Avery started with his burden back to the elevator.

Dr. Gutiérrez, Marisol, slipped back into the glass room and, with a glove on her hand, picked up Julian’s boots; sealed and locked, she left the room for more testing later--the blood, the dirt, the air itself, anything.

She caught up to them, a peculiar trio, in the elevator, waiting for her.

Slowly, they started to rise up to the surface again.

Avery looked over at Julian’s boots hanging from Marisol’s hand. She looked at him, looked at the boots, then back at him and she smiled faintly. No fool, this boy. Good.

“We have reason to believe he’s been dosed with stimulants, and possibly other drugs,” she said. “And we want to identify them. There should be traces in the sweat in his shoes.”

Avery smiled, more to himself than anyone, and nodded. But, slowly and quietly, his brows drew down and his smile tightened itself towards tears again.

Ryan rubbed his back. “Big relief, right?”

“Yeah.”

Marisol was looking up at the rising numbers on the elevator screen. Still, she spoke: “His recovery is going to take time. But this is a good first step.”

Three nurses were waiting around a wheeled bed when the elevator doors opened on the back side of the elevator. Avery turned to find sunlight--real and true sunlight--pouring in from a row of skylights. No, this wasn’t the lobby floor with its rows of glass offices; this was still one floor below that, at least, but there was more light and more air here. The walls were white, sure, but they didn’t have the kind of institutional darkness Avery had expected. It was more like, and he had to smile a little at the comparison when it hit him so instantly, walking into the hallway of a brand new school.

With the nurses leading him along, he laid Julian out on the bed and draped the blanket over him. “I’m going with him. Just so we’re clear.”

“Absolutely,” Marisol said and led the way down the hall to another room--bigger than the cell downstairs, but not exactly palatial. And it still had one glass wall, but okay, fine. On the other hand, it had a skylight.

One of the nurses set up an IV in Julian’s arm. Julian only barely stirred and tried to roll a little away.

Avery smoothed Julian’s hair back from his forehead. “Geeze, you’re so out of it,” he said and tried to smile.

Marisol was busy with the nurses, busy sending something on her phone, busy checking Julian’s pulse or heart or lungs. The nurses came and went, bringing in trays or carts of things, staying alongside for a while, then changing over and someone new came in. Low chatter, soft footsteps. And Avery just crouched by the bed, holding Julian’s hand and looking at his face.

He looked almost--almost--like himself asleep like this. Almost.

“All right,” Marisol said, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. “Phillip’s on his way; let’s see how he’s healing. If he’s healing.” And Marisol and one of the nurses were suddenly both brandishing scissors.

As they cut away the torn black uniform, Avery rubbed at his face. “Please tell me you’re wearing underwear, dude.”

Marisol stopped cutting for a moment. “Well, if he isn’t, it won’t be anything you or I haven’t seen before.”

And Avery blushed.

He was quiet, though, and patient, staying nearby. And trying not to get underfoot. He held Julian’s hand and smoothed his thumb over Julian’s fingers and Marisol dabbed at the dozens of scratches, scrapes, cuts that seemed to litter, to crosshatch Julian’s body--even his palms (and Avery had to surrender Julian’s hand long enough to suit Marisol), his left temple, across his cheek and nose, his lower lip. And wherever there was a scrape, there seemed to likewise be a bruise.

But, slowly, the worst of the cuts and gashes were disappearing under gauze and bandages. And the bruises were covered by electrodes on his chest, wires. And the rest of him was softened with a little soap and water, to get the worst of the grime off his face and hands and away from the cuts and scrapes, then covered with a pale blue gown (with some tiny repetitive flower-petal print all over it and snaps at the shoulders). No giant tubes running in and out of him (yet), and for that Avery was grateful.

Marisol, content at last, stripped off her gloves. “Well. Nothing worth putting a stitch in.” Though maybe there had been a few days ago. Still, she looked at Avery. “That’s good. He’s healing. We’ll help him clean up more when he’s really awake again.”

Avery nodded and held back his question: What happened to him? Not now, he decided, but soon. He’d ask it. No more obscurity from these fuckers.

“Doctor Yeoun is on his way.” And she looked at Avery crouching there on the floor. “You can pull a chair over if you want.”

Avery met her eyes, steady. “I don’t want to let go of his hand.”

And Marisol had to smile.

Avery was dozing, leaning over onto Julian’s bed (and sitting on a chair Marisol had brought over to him), their hands still together, when the sound of the glass door sliding aside woke him and he sat up. A man, young, but definitely a doctor, came in.

Avery rubbed his eyes. “Are you Dr. Yeoun?”

“I am,” and he smiled. “Call me Phillip, though. I’m not quite as formal as my colleague.”

“Sure.” Avery sniffed, waking up.

A nurse came in just behind him, carrying a steel tray. He set it a little aside of Julian’s bed; even from his seat, Avery could see the syringe, the gauze, and the scalpel.

“What’s that for?” he asked, flat, grave.

“Can you stay and help me with this?” Phillip was asking the nurse. “Thank you.”

“Hey, Dr. Phil: what’s the knife for?”

And Phillip closed his eyes; the nickname would haunt him forever (whether he ought to blame his parents or Oprah…). But it only took him a moment. He pulled over a second chair and sat down across Julian’s bed and his covered legs (lumpy blanket mountains).

“So how much do you know already?”

“I know it’s not the bullshit witness protection story I heard. And I know my mom got dragged into it.” His voice rose near to cracking again.

“And you got dragged into it.”

Avery nodded.

“And Julian got dragged back into it.”

Avery nodded again.

Phillip laced his fingers together, let his hands hang down between his knees. “We’re dealing with some dangerous people. And they’re going to want Julian back, bad.”

Avery turned away, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah.” He dropped his face in his hand.

Phillip reached out across the bed between them, across Julian asleep between them, and set his hand on Avery’s (Avery’s hand still holding to Julian’s hand).

They were quiet a moment; only the machinery surrounding and monitoring Julian hummed and chirped, rhythmically.

Avery, his voice straining, spoke in a rush from behind his hand. “They already took him twice. Like--the first time it was bad enough because he just fucking vanished all of a sudden and he’s gone for months, and then his dad turns up and starts talking to me about him and wants me to bring him back and that’s already fucking weird but then they bring my mom into it and start saying she’ll lose her job or might get hurt--but maybe I can see him again if I do what they say, so it’s lose-lose and win-win at the same time--and I did get to see him, but just because they used me as bait and that time I actually saw what they do to him, like, when they gagged him and tied him up and threw him in the van? And that’s, like--that doesn’t even explain half of the bruises he’s got or why he doesn’t remember for shit or why he keeps looking like he maybe wants to kill everyone he fucking looks at.” And he broke at last, sobbing into his hand, loud, choking.

The nurse brought tissues and crouched beside him, rubbing one hand along Avery’s shoulder. Phillip kept his hold on Avery’s hand. They let him cry as he needed to, the choked sobs quieting at last, leaving Avery sniffling and wet; the nurse handed him a tissue and stayed crouched beside him.

“Will you be okay if we keep talking?” Phillip asked.

“Yeah, probably.” He shook his head to clear it.

“I’ll stop if you need me to, but I want you to know the truth as far as I can tell it.” (Avery nodded.) “Because they want him back, they’ll do what they have to to keep from losing him in the first place.”

“What, like giving him amnesia so he doesn’t remember--” he stopped short: the people who love him?

“That’s part of it. The last time he was with us, he had embedded telemetry in his body.”

Avery cocked his head, blinking, frowning. “Tracking devices.”

“Exactly. So--”

“You have to take them out to keep him,” and Avery paused, “hidden.”

And Phillip nodded, squeezing Avery’s hand one last time. “You got it. Now I can let you stay while we do this. It’s a little bloody, but hopefully the chip is in about the same place as before. One thing about these people is they’re pretty organized.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” And he managed a wry smile. “Please tell me the chip is somewhere embarrassing like in his ass so I can tease him about it later.”

Phillip stood up, trying not to smile. “I hate to break it to you, but it was in the back of his neck last time.”

“Damn.”

“Hey, Doctor Yeoun? I think he’s awake.”

One dark eye, shining in the blue glow under the surgical cloths that covered most of Julian’s head and shoulders, turned, roamed, and finally focused on Avery’s face.

“Well, we’re almost done back here. Any pain, Julian?”

Julian made no move and no sound.

“Hey,” Avery said under the cloth, “You doing okay? Don’t nod, just, I don’t know, blink.”

Julian blinked. Avery smiled.

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

But that stillness--nothing moved but his eyes (eye; the other was hidden under the folds of cloth). Even his breathing seemed small and slow, as though he were holding himself inordinately still. And that one eye: empty of purpose, focused only on Avery, waiting for something--to start, to end. An almost unearthly stillness. Avery reached under the cloths to hold Julian’s hand again.

“You can go back to sleep if you want, if you’re still tired. I’ll stick around here as long as they’ll let me.”

Julian blinked again, then again but slower. And, slowly and slowly, his eyes closed and, perhaps, he slept. From over his shoulder:

Phillip: All right, I think I’m pretty happy with that. Michael, let me hold onto the--yeah, perfect. I think we ought to take a look at this thing before we do anything else.

(The sound of surgical tools being laid back into the tray. The cloths are lifted and rolled away. Julian is rolled back onto his back, which covers the gauze pad taped to the back of his neck which covers the tiny line of sutures which covers the cut that had to be made to draw out the tiny sliver that was the tracking chip. Michael left, then Phillip left, bearing with him the chip in the bottom of a plastic cup. And Avery and Julian were alone again for a little while.)

Phillip caught up to Marisol in the hallway. He tipped the cup towards her to show her the bloodied chip. “Same as before, but a little deeper this time.”

Marisol set her mouth and nodded. “Well, that’s one thing solved. I said in the elevator that this was a good first step,” she paused, “but I have to wonder if this isn’t just a crash after the stimulants have worn off. He may seem better, but--”

“He may not actually be any better.” And Phillip nodded. “Yeah. This is new territory. We saw him so much later in his recovery process before.”

“He’s responding differently, though. I’d almost call it positively.”

“Well, maybe Avery can set a dopamine bomb off on him.”

“I’m determined to start an EEG recording on him--the sooner the better. But I’m not going to set it up with the boyfriend there. He’s about to lose it as it is. You should’ve seen him--”

“I did see him. He saw them take him back. He saw everything.”

“Is he still in there?”

“You’re going to have to get security to drag him out.”

Marisol shrugged. “We’ll send Ryan.”

#whump #aftermath #caretaker #comfort #medical #hospital #memory loss #Julian #Phillip #Avery #Marisol #dogs of war

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newstfionline · 5 years

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The Homeless Crisis Is Getting Worse in America’s Richest Cities

Bloomberg, November 20, 2018

It was just after 10 p.m. on an overcast September night in Los Angeles, and L. was tired from a long day of class prep, teaching, and grading papers. So the 57-year-old anthropology professor fed her Chihuahua-dachshund mix a freeze-dried chicken strip, swapped her cigarette trousers for stretchy black yoga pants, and began to unfold a set of white sheets and a beige cotton blanket to make up her bed.

But first she had to recline the passenger seat of her 2015 Nissan Leaf as far as it would go--that being her bed in the parking lot she’d called home for almost three months. The Late Show with Stephen Colbert was playing on her iPad as she drifted off for another night. “Like sleeping on an airplane--but not in first class,” she said. That was in part by design. “I don’t want to get more comfortable. I want to get out of here.”

L., who asked to go by her middle initial for fear of losing her job, couldn’t afford her apartment earlier this year after failing to cobble together enough teaching assignments at two community colleges. By July she’d exhausted her savings and turned to a local nonprofit called Safe Parking L.A., which outfits a handful of lots around the city with security guards, port-a-potties, Wi-Fi, and solar-powered electrical chargers. Sleeping in her car would allow her to save for a deposit on an apartment. On that night in late September, under basketball hoops owned by an Episcopal church in Koreatown, she was one of 16 people in 12 vehicles. Ten of them were female, two were children, and half were employed.

The headline of the press release announcing the results of the county’s latest homeless census strikes a note of progress: “2018 Homeless Count Shows First Decrease in Four Years.” In some ways that’s true. The figure for people experiencing homelessness dropped 4 percent, a record number got placed in housing, and chronic and veteran homelessness fell by double digits. But troubling figures lurk. The homeless population is still high, at 52,765--up 47 percent from 2012. Those who’d become homeless for the first time jumped 16 percent from last year, to 9,322 people, and the county provided shelter for roughly 5,000 fewer people than in 2011.

All this in a year when the economy in L.A., as in the rest of California and the U.S., is booming. That’s part of the problem. Federal statistics show homelessness overall has been trending down over the past decade as the U.S. climbed back from the Great Recession, the stock market reached all-time highs, and unemployment sank to a generational low. Yet in many cities, homelessness has spiked.

It’s most stark and visible out West, where shortages of shelter beds force people to sleep in their vehicles or on the street. In Seattle, the number of “unsheltered” homeless counted on a single night in January jumped 15 percent this year from 2017--a period when the value of Amazon.com Inc., one of the city’s dominant employers, rose 68 percent, to $675 billion. In California, home to Apple, Facebook, and Google, some 134,000 people were homeless during the annual census for the Department of Housing and Urban Development in January last year, a 14 percent jump from 2016. About two-thirds of them were unsheltered, the highest rate in the nation.

At least 10 cities on the West Coast have declared states of emergency in recent years. San Diego and Tacoma, Wash., recently responded by erecting tents fit for disaster relief areas to provide shelter for their homeless. Seattle and Sacramento may be next.

The reason the situation has gotten worse is simple enough to understand, even if it defies easy solution: A toxic combo of slow wage growth and skyrocketing rents has put housing out of reach for a greater number of people. According to Freddie Mac, the government-sponsored housing giant, the portion of rental units affordable to low earners plummeted 62 percent from 2010 to 2016.

Rising housing costs don’t predestine people to homelessness. But without the right interventions, the connection can become malignant. Research by Zillow Group Inc. last year found that a 5 percent increase in rents in L.A. translates into about 2,000 more homeless people, among the highest correlations in the U.S. The median rent for a one-bedroom in the city was $2,371 in September, up 43 percent from 2010. Similarly, consultant McKinsey & Co. recently concluded that the runup in housing costs was 96 percent correlated with Seattle’s soaring homeless population. Even skeptics have come around to accepting the relationship. “I argued for a long time that the homelessness issue wasn’t due to rents,” says Joel Singer, chief executive officer of the California Association of Realtors. “I can’t argue that anymore.”

Homelessness first gained national attention in the 1980s, when declining incomes, cutbacks to social safety net programs, and a shrinking pool of affordable housing began tipping people into crisis. President Ronald Reagan dubiously argued that homelessness was a lifestyle choice. By the mid-2000s, though, the federal government was taking a more productive approach. George W. Bush’s administration pushed for a “housing first” model that prioritized getting people permanent shelter before helping them with drug addiction or mental illness. Barack Obama furthered the effort in his first term and, in 2010, vowed to end chronic and veteran homelessness in five years and child and family homelessness by 2020.

Rising housing costs are part of the reason some of those deadlines were missed. The Trump administration’s proposal to hike rents on people receiving federal housing vouchers, and require they work, would only make the goals more elusive. Demand for rental assistance has long outstripped supply, leading to yearslong waits for people who want help. But even folks who are lucky enough to have vouchers are increasingly struggling to use them in hot housing markets. A survey by the Urban Institute this year found that more than three-quarters of L.A. landlords rejected tenants receiving rental assistance.

It’s not bad everywhere. Houston, the fourth-most-populous city in the nation, has cut its homeless population in half since 2011, in part by creating more housing for them. That’s dampened the effect of rising rents, Zillow found. Meanwhile, the nonprofit Community Solutions has worked with Chicago, Phoenix, and other cities to gather quality, real-time data about their homeless populations so they can better coordinate their interventions and prioritize spending. The approach has effectively ended veterans’ homelessness in eight communities, including Riverside County in California.

Efficiency can go only so far. More resources are needed in the places struggling the most with homelessness. McKinsey calculated that to shelter people adequately, Seattle would have to increase its outlay to as much as $410 million a year, double what it spends now. Still, that’s less than the $1.1 billion the consultants estimate it costs “as a result of extra policing, lost tourism and business, and the frequent hospitalization of those living on the streets.” Study after study, from California to New York, has drawn similar conclusions. “Doing nothing isn’t doing nothing,” says Sara Rankin, a professor at Seattle University’s School of Law and the director of the Homeless Rights Advocacy Project. “Doing nothing costs more money.”

Then there’s the moral argument for action. “It’s outrageous to me that in a country with so much wealth--and certainly enough for everybody--that there are people who lack even the basics for survival,” says Maria Foscarinis, founder and executive director of the National Law Center on Homelessness & Poverty. Appeals to humanity were part of the strategy in the 1980s, when she and other activists helped push through the first major federal legislation to fight homelessness. Her organization has led a charge against laws that make it a crime to sleep outside in public places, one of the more insidious ways politicians have addressed the crisis. In July the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit affirmed the unconstitutionality of such bans in a case that Foscarinis’s group--along with Idaho Legal Aid Services and Latham & Watkins--brought against two such ordinances in Boise. “As long as there is no option of sleeping indoors, the government cannot criminalize indigent, homeless people for sleeping outdoors, on public property, on the false premise they had a choice in the matter,” the court wrote. The ruling has led cities, including Portland, Ore., and Berkeley, Calif., to change their policies.

To placate angry constituents, officials too often settle for temporary solutions, such as sweeps of tent encampments and street cleaning. San Francisco Mayor London Breed recently scored some publicity, carrying a broom out to the “dirtiest” block in the city for a photo op with the New York Times. In other places, there’s simply a vacuum of leadership coordinating the patchwork of agencies, nonprofits, and religious organizations trying to help. After reporting intensively for a year on homelessness in the Puget Sound region, the Seattle Times put it bluntly: “No one is in charge.”

Meanwhile, the businesses responsible for much of the area’s economic fortunes, as well as rising housing costs, have been slow to throw their weight behind solutions. Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos recently earmarked a portion of his $2 billion philanthropic pledge for homeless services--only months after his company fought aggressively to beat back a modest tax on large employers in Seattle that would have raised less than $50 million a year for the same.

Blaming people who are trying to get back on their feet is probably the least productive way to solve the crisis. Consider Mindy Woods, a single mother and U.S. Navy veteran who lives in a Seattle suburb. In 2010 she developed autoimmune diseases that made her chronically tired and caused so much pain she struggled to work at the insurance company where she’d been selling disability policies. “I was just a mess,” she says. “I had to quit my job.” To help pay rent for the apartment where she lived with her son, she babysat, watched neighbors’ pets, and led a Camp Fire youth group. Still, she and her son ended up having to leave the apartment because of a serious mold infestation, kicking off an eight-month period when they couch-surfed and spent time in a motel and shelter. It was a challenge just to refrigerate her son’s diabetes medicine.

They eventually were accepted into a transitional apartment, where they stayed for 3½ years. But in 2015 her landlord stopped accepting vouchers. Woods had to race to find another apartment owner who’d take her voucher before it lapsed. Application after application got rejected. “The discrimination was alive and well,” she says. Another eight months passed. When she finally found an apartment, there wasn’t room for her son. They had no choice but to separate, and he now lives nearby. Woods bristles when people blame the homeless for their predicament. “This is not about drugs, this is not about mental illness, this is not about lazy people,” she says. “We were doing everything we could to stay in houses.”

#homelessness

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recentanimenews · 3 years

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Vivy: Fluorite Eye’s Song – 02 – Narrowing the Mandate

The first episode didn’t so much end as pause, but because the second episode was immediately available, that wasn’t a concern. Diva is in time to take a bullet for Aikawa, but it’s only the first of dozens of time she’ll need to safe his life throughout this harrowing, pulse-pounding action-packed episode of Vivy, which due to the corporate skyscraper setting and terrorists could be called Die Hard: With a Vivy-engeance.

That is not a bad thing, as the people behind this production know what they’re doing and execute beautifully. Also, Aikawa’s pursuers are no two-bit op, but the well-trained and equipped anti-AI group Toak, represented by the younger, less-experienced Kakitani and the hulking Batou-like Kuwana. They’re not just there to kill AIkawa, but blow the whole damn building to kingdom come.

Diva conceals her identity by placing a disguising filter in Aikawa’s AR glasses, so all he sees is a generic AI drone. Diva and Matsumoto’s mission is simple: keep him alive. But between her tactical inexperience and the fact that she has the AI equivalent of free will with all its inherent unpredictability, Matsumoto soon decides it best to inject her with combat training a la The Matrix.

Diva severs the wire connection, angry that Matsumoto has only been offering a “slow drip feed” of the future and is now trying to override her singing mandate. But Matsumoto makes it clear there’s a reason he did that: he doesn’t quite trust her yet, even if the professor and researcher with whom he shares his name did.

In the midst of their quarrel, Kuwana gets the jump in her with a “Logical Bullet”, which scrambles her circuits and renders her inoperative. He then shoots Aikawa dead and shoots Diva for good measure, accidentally getting her blue “blood” on his boot. As the Toak team prepares to set the bomb timers, it looks like Diva failed her mission big time. At the same time, it soon becomes clear when Matsumoto hacks Toak bombs that Kuwana was tricked.

Matsumoto used his night-vision goggles to show him what he wanted to see: him killing Aikawa and destroying Diva. By the time Kuwana realizes there’s no blood on his boot, they’re already headed to the very Matrix-like imposing lobby. When they’re confronted by Kakitani, who clearly hates both AI and Aikawa with the hotness of the sun, Matsumoto detonates some of the bombs, bringing rubble down on him and the other Toak operatives.

But as a giant piece of concrete is about to smash Kakitani like a pancake, Diva runs under it and catches it, causing severe damage to her arm and tearing her jacket. Far from grateful, Kakitani seems disgusted and horrified an AI saves him, and later expresses that disgust verbally to Kurawa. Matsumoto, meanwhile, is frustrated that Diva continues to act erratically.

Of course, she isn’t: she’s acting according to her personal prime directive: make people happy with her singing. In order to do that, people have to be alive, so if a person needs rescuing—even a terrorist and her enemy—she’ll do what she can, as she does here. In the midst of all this chaos, Aikawa admits he doesn’t really care about AIs, but is paying lip-service to aid his political rise.

Matsumoto tells Diva that the professor was wrong to stake everything on her, but he had little choice. 100 years in the future, the only AI body that remained in complete form without evolution or modification was Diva’s, as her status as the first autonomous AI meant she was soon turned into a museum exhibit. This is a wonderfully awesome detail to me, as it has a parallel in the reboot of Battlestar Galactica: the human race was saved by an obsolete museum ship the evil Cylons couldn’t hack.

Matsumoto wants Diva to understand that even if she was originally programmed to be a singer, in the very near future she’ll be relegated to an inert, silent artifact, and become the longest of long shots of a researcher trying to prevent humanity’s destruction. He scolds her for letting “such a thing” as her singing mission jeopardize the Singularity Project.

But Diva tells him to take it back and defiantly shrugs the concrete off of her, and pulls off her torn jacket, saying it doesn’t matter for AIs how long they operate, but how they continue to operate. She still considers her mission is to sing. To accomplish that, Aikawa must live, but so must Kakitani. Also, she has to bring the whole building down.

So begins a rush from the lobby to the open observation deck near the top, where Diva takes Aikawa’s hand, breaks into a run as the bombs detonate (after all of Toak evacuates), and helps ensure Aikawa is able to leap from the one toppling building to the next. He lands hard, but he’s otherwise fine as Diva follows him with a bad-ass balletic leap. Kakitani catches her in midair with the full moon as a backdrop, shattered glass flying everywhere. Everything about this scene just owns so hard.

After Aikawa thanks her and they part ways, she asks Matsumoto if there’s a chance he could get the AI naming laws passed anyway, but Matsumoto assures her that won’t happen. Aikawa proved a more effective legislator in death than he’ll prove to be in life.

His career will flag and he’ll be voted out before any law sees daylight. And yet, the way Aikawa repeats to himself what Diva said about “not how long you live, but how you live”, I could almost see Aikawa suddenly growing a spine, thereby undermining Matsumoto’s mission.

While Diva’s mission is accomplished for now, Matsumoto playfully takes her to task for introducing far too many unpredictable variables, and strongly recommends she avoid “all or nothing” strategies when she’s all they—and humanity—have. Her “antics” in the Die Hard operation make him shudder to think what’s ahead for them. From a vantage point that overlooks the city, Matsumoto points out the colossal Arayashiki tower looming further out on the horizon.

He says the taller the tower gets, the more AIs in society will evolve. Call it a barometer of their progress; they want the tower to remain as short as possible—even bring it down if necessary. Diva and Matsumoto shake hands, and Diva agrees that she’ll continue helping him stave off the future war—but only as long as it isn’t in violation of her mission to make people happy through song.

Matsumoto is also quick to mention that while they did bring down a huge skyscraper tonight, the collapse caused no deaths and the overall changes to the timeline were within an acceptable range. He goes on to warn Diva that while they technically have the ability to alter history however they like, Diva’s actions will fall strictly within the limits of the Singularity Project.

When Diva looks as if she’s contemplating who and what else she can save in the present while also saving the future, Matsumoto commandeers an industrial power loader straight out of Aliens and, before even Diva can react, uses it to violently smash her against a far away wall. His tone becomes far more grave as he warn her “Let’s not do this.”

He cannot allow her “personal calculations” to unduly affect history or cloud the mission to prevent the excessive evolution of AIs, and that’s it. That means, despite seeing a newspaper article from a day from now in which a plane crash results in the death of her young friend Momoka, Diva is forbidden from tending to “every single accident in history.” Momoka looks out from her window seat and spots Diva moments before the plane explodes in a fireball, and all Diva can do is watch in horror and shed a tear.

Just when you thought Matsumoto would be a constant source of comic relief, he demonstrates his merciless devotion to sticking to the plan. It will be interesting to see if Diva remains cowed or if she finds small ways to rebel against Matsumoto’s—let’s face it, inhuman inflexibility. The future must be saved, but how it’s saved matters to Diva—just as how she continues to live is more important than how long she lives.

With this one-two punch of thrilling opening salvos, the curiously-titled Vivy: Fluorite Eye’s Song has already established itself as an early contender for Best Anime of 2021. I can’t wait to see how it shakes out.

By: braverade

#Anime #News #RABUJOI – An Anime Blog

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inevitablesurrender · 7 years

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List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on: writing, art, gifsets, whatever. Tagged by @landofdoom

Tagging (here because this shit show is under a very necessary cut): @promptoargentcum @numinoceur @flosnix @k-times-two It’s okay to ignore this! I just know you folks tend to have things going on and probably aren’t currently buried underneath the bulk of them, so. You know. Also even if you’re not listed and you want to do this, feel free to steal this and blame me. ‘Cause you guys who follow me? I’m interested in what you’re up to.

That said. I don’t think you know what you’re asking, Crab.

So do be aware that I believe I’m probably missing a lot from everywhere. This is what I had the time and energy to gather up over two days of just jotting things down when I passed by it/thought of it. Which is. Startling. While it reads like a to-do list, everything on here is in some state of completion/fully planned/has all materials and equipment available/actively being thought of. (I was going to add that maybe if I could break $50 on Patreon then I’d let Patrons vote on the next project or two but... haaa, that’s not possible for me. I’ll think of something. Maybe. I’m kinda crap with rewards at the moment.)

Anyway. Onward. Cut because no one is prepared for this. Least of all me.

Writing:

Let’s get this out of the way with first: a sequel to DarkHorse Vendetta is probably never going to get written, but I still have notes and tiny scenes sometime. I need to re-write bits of the original because I didn’t fucking mean for it to wind up feeling like a love triangle. They’re a loving poly group of two idiots and one completely under-appreciated genius and maybe an AI dammit, I promise.

A billion random short stories that may go nowhere, I don’t know. I’d like to finish the ones that wind around Zellie’s universe, anyway. SOMEDAY.

Small FFXV ficlet thing, centering around some of Prompto’s experiences during the. You know. “Dark times”. It’s actually almost finished. I just. Have to. ...Finish, for fuck’s sake.

Fics. Like. A few of them. I don’t know, undecided status right now. One I definitely want to finish, but time will tell as to how.

SEVEN DRABBLES. I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN. THERE ARE SEVEN OF THEM.

Whatever random bullshit notes and quotes accidentally stumble into other things, I don’t even fucking know.

So many replies across many RP accounts. Let us not dwell on these things. I sure haven’t.

Art/Work: (Note that this list is only for things in some stage of production. Planned stuff that I haven’t even gotten around to doing tests for are unlisted, and I probably forgot a lot.)

The Desert Bus 2017 chocobo, of course. ONGOING, I try to remember a weekly progress shot for Patrons.

Shadow of the Colossus mask bracelets. 4/6 of the masks are sculpted. I wanted to get the other two done before starting in on the painting, but all the other materials are... waiting for my slow ass to be done with this step. It’s only been years.

Gladiolus’ necklace. I just need to do it. I’ll probably wind up making two just as materials tests.

Serpent/dragon necklace. Basically I have a test piece, all of the beads, and all of the wire ready. Not sure if I’m going to use it or fully take it apart and start again, whenever I. ........Get to it.

Random simple bracelet. Supposedly. Maybe. I have the clasp right in front of me, but the bracelet? Yeah, that’ll happen eventually.

FFVII materia bracelets. More along the lines of the one I made for DB9. I have three designs in mind and... you know, maybe they’ll get done. Someday. All multiple materia slots. One way OP, but isn’t that the idea? The bands are things I still want to play with as well.

Using my “make it look like metal” skills on fabric for a bracelet. It’ll happen.

Decorating a couple of random wooden boxes. Because I have two and plans and initial tests. ...Eventually, eventually.

Four dragon sculptures. I have four from way back when that remain unfinished. It should be a crime. Maybe someday, y’know?

Three dragon sculptures that I need to finish repairing. Because the last move was not kind to them. One of those is sadly my dragon!Vincent.

Tachikoma earrings. I have the beads. I’ve done this before with a pendant. ...Maybe some day I’ll get around to these.

A choker for this lovely teardrop golden seraphinite cabochon. It feels very... Sephiroth. With that in mind, yeah, the design is... gonna be yet another giant complication.

“Transformable” Ravage pillow. Hey it may finally happen one of these days.

Tron (Legacy) cats. Don’t ask. One of these days I do need to finally get more felting needles because I have one left and that’s never a good thing.

Fancy Tron-inspired choker/bib/necklace-thingy. BOY. This has been. A long time in coming. But I only just recently figured out how I’m going to make it work in terms of structure and stability, but keeping the pointy bits from being pointy is... another thing to test. Later. Much later. What is time.

While we’re Tron-ing stuff up here, I should finally do the repair work on my old leather jacket and use the EL wire my enabling girlfriend got for me forever ago.

Need to perfect the stainless steel wrap technique on the candy jade for alternative "materia pendants". Yeah it's only been, what. Two years or so. I'LL GET THERE.

Three dragon plushes to finish, two of one type and one of another.

...I might still go through with an H-01 hoodie. ...Don't look at me like that.

...And an H-01 tiger cub plush.

I’m sure my take on Noct’s little Carbuncle figure will happen eventually. More complications to overcome.

Refining patterns. At least two. But it'll probably turn into more than that.

A poseable critter. I have absolutely no clue what kind, I just have the armature laying around ready for me to... do something with it.

...The Cockasaurus. ...Lemme explain: years ago, when Tomopop was still an actual community, some vinyl toy maker I can't remember had a limited run of what were basically cartoony vaginas with faces. It was exactly as terrifying as it sounds. So I decided okay, I'll make a giant cock with T-rex legs. Sadly I only made the prototype and it's... fun. And heavy as fuck because I used the super cheap air dry clay since it was just proof of concept, so there’s still this heavy mass of legged cock, with balls, in my cabinet. But I'd like to get around to making the real thing. I don't think I could ever manage more than a one-off, though. All the molding and designing and either vinyl or resin figuring-out, just... ugh. I can't afford the overhead to teach myself how to do that even if I can envision the entire articulation system (slide joints rather than ball joints because... unless I have one of those in my hands, I can’t quite... make that work in my head, and I’ve never had the fortune of taking apart a ball jointed figure). But fuck yeah I wanna finish my static one-off Cockasuarus and include all of the stupid accessories I'd initially wanted to. And maybe make it GLITTERY.

SECRET PROJECTS:

Requires sewing. So much sewing. Damn near everything else is done, though.

Sculpting medium. Plus glitter and iridescent pigment. It's either going to be glorious or a glorious disaster, but that's fine.

Taking what I've learned of 3-D beadwork and finally making a little project that's been in the back of my mind for years. ...May be more years yet before I figure out how to make the internal structure work. I also want to include LEDs but... holy shit is that over my head right now.

Similarly, eventually, my stupid little “someday I’m going to do this” project. Because I haven’t yet. It was a goal when I first started beading, and it still seems way over my head now but... that’s kind of silly since I’ve done way more complicated things. But damn, looking at the pattern I finally created for it is... ...........Unpleasant.

Random:

FINALLY FINISH ALTERING MY FUZZY LEOPARD JEANS. I have completely lost track of how many damn years I've been wanting to do this, but it's uncomfortably close to 20 and holy shit dude. ...What's another 20. Seriously, though, whoever designed these jeans did not do so for the human body. Also they are clearly from the late ‘70s or early ‘80s.

See if I can turn the Cinnamon Bun Oreos into a cheesecake. ...But I want to make a caramel cheesecake base and this requires more steps and time and. Sometime soon. But when ice cream's on sale...

Drill holes in my damn new belt because no one carries anything cool in a goddamn small and I inherited my leather punches from my father which means... yeah I should. Get new ones.

Fully break down the pre-Bitchbox computer and finally just see if anything's worth keeping for art because the motherboard is fried and seriously, it's not worth trying to get back into working condition at this point. Cut loses, turn into art, the usual. I should see if the fan is salvageable, though.

See if I can do the same for my old speakers, maybe. ...Don't know. They're old enough where they don't seem to be repairable by anyone anymore, so. Art?

Finally determining whether or not the jewelry torch I bought years ago is worth keeping. Like. I want to play with it, but at the same time. I know there are a lot of places to buy recycled silver now, so that’s a thing. (Yeah, there’s a reason beyond cost that I will not use precious gemstones. I’m an amoral asshole in a lot of ways, but unpaid suffering and massive destruction for shinies? Fuck that. I’ll only hurt myself, thank you very much.)

Either try to repair my old messenger bag or add pockets and a proper clasp to my Transformers one. ...I mean I’ve already got a glittery Decepticon symbol on my carry-on luggage, I may as well go full geek with travel gear. Depending upon pockets, mostly.

#I done got tagged #it's a pizza and movie night tonight so just queuing this #so I can sink into denial and not think about any of it #be in later for the usual

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messier-45 · 7 years

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GoRA Kizuna Meeting #6 Q&A

Q&A from Kizuna Meeting in Ikebukuro on Jan 22nd. This is really long so I categorized them into 5 groups: ①Munakata, ②Fushimi, ③Scepter 4, ④Homra, ⑤K Project, including K7S.

Munakata

Q: Did Munakata study abroad out of his own intention? Red: He received government grant.

Munakata's major was information engineering. (I saw a dozen tweets regarding this. Shocking, isn't it?)

Q: Is there more setting about Captain's studying abroad? Green: The government recommended him to, since it's about time for the country to become more open.

Based on every GoRA member's opinion, Munakata's awakening gotta be an airplane incident. There was a proposal of crashing the plane, making Munakata the only survivor. But... Red: Once we decided that Awashima should be by his side in his awakening, it turns out this way. Green: The only timing for their encounter... Red: That's right. As with Tatsuka & Kusanagi being by Suoh's side when he woke, we want Munakata to have Awashima by his side.

Q. How did Munakata suppress the hijackers? Green: I think he practiced battle skills such as martial arts. Oh and his swordsmanship isn't amateur either. Basically, he's like a superman.

Q: Did you appoint the "Producer Munakata" in R:B? Green: Oh. It was random. I picked the most interesting one among the designs (kimono and such) I received.

Q: Does Munakata-san have any friends besides Mikoto-san? Green: Lol. Umm how should i say this. I think, in school days he hung out with classmates, but that was different from with Suoh. I guess in terms of friends like Suoh, the answer is no.

Q: What's the age difference between Munakata and his older brother? Red: It's decided. But I don't have the notes at hand, so I can't give the exact number right now.

Q: Did Munakata read the documents in "E Archive"? Red: I think he did. Q: Did he talk to the Special Ops about it? Red: No way. He was like reading by himself and thinking, "So that's how it is."

Q: What happens to the sand castle in the short novel "Sand Castle"? Yellow: Not decided yet. It's interesting if it remains. But without the power of the slate, it might crumble a bit.

Fushimi

(Fushimi got especially many asks since Yellow is the only one who can answer them, yet she doesn’t participate in Kizuna Meeting often.)

Q: What happened to Fushimi's uniform and saber after he left (in anime #8)? Yellow: Hidaka brought it back, I think. He'd be flustered like "What should I do? What should I doooo???"

Q: Does Fushimi know that Munakata paid 30 million Yen to save him? Yellow: I'll have to ask Orange to confirm this. But if he knows, I think he'd say things like, "Are you stupid or what?"

Q: In R:B, Akiyama and Benzai fought Fushimi. Do they remember this battle? Green: Since all three of them are intelligent, they can get along well while knowing, "yep, so he was that guy back then."

Q: Can Fushimi drink? Yellow: He doesn't have high alcohol tolerance, but can handle social drinking.

Q: After the ending of season 2, would Fushimi's attitude toward the Special Ops change a bit? Yellow: Sure will! I want to write about what happens afterwards.

Q: Fushimi, in spite of being excellent, values himself low. Does he ever give himself 100 points? Yellow: Um. Rarely, I think, such as when he got something done really well.

Q: Is there any food Fushimi likes? Yellow: Nothing to the extent of "like". If you ask him what food does he like, you'll get "nothing" as a reply.

Q: Does he have a favorite dish in Yata family's cooking? Yellow: Didn't really think about it. I think he'd say "hmm so this is family taste".

Q: In LSW, while being attacked in Jungle mission, did Fushimi feel that Totsuka protected him? Yellow: I wrote "like bathed in sunlight" in the novel. Yes. Fushimi felt it, since the beginning.

Q: What do Fushimi think of Totsuka? Yellow: He doesn't dislike him, but thinks he's annoying. ("Not dislike" is already special, comparing to what he said to Aya.)

Q: When Fushimi left Homra, what were Kusanagi's and Totsuka's reactions? Yellow: They both saw this coming, especially Totsuka. Now that I think of it, Kusanagi would feel so lonely.

Q: Will Fushimi interact with Kusanagi in the future? Green: As the important intelligent units of their clans, they will.

Q: Does Fushimi visit Bar Homra after the ending? Yellow: Basically no, since he feels awkward to. But if invited, he might.

Q: Who has better alcohol capacity? Fushimi-san or Yata-chan? Red: About the same. But Yata seems weaker. Q: What alcohol do they drink? Red: Um... Calpis Sour, like students do.

Q: Would Yata and Fushimi meet Aya again after season 2? Yellow: Not decided whether they should meet or not. Q: I'm curious about how Aya's doing afterwards. Yellow: Thank you. It'll be great if I can write something about it.

Q: Does Kisa know that Fushimi joined Homra and Scepter 4? Yellow: Homra is underworld, so she doesn't know he had been there. Scepter 4 is a government institution, so she's aware of this, I believe.

Q: Will Fushimi and Kisa reconcile? Yellow: Not in the near future, but it'll be nice if they come closer.

Q: Why did Niki marry Kisa? Was it some plan? Yellow: Niki, in his own way, loved Kisa.

Q: Why is Saruhiko's hairstyle like Niki's? Yellow: This can't be explained with reasons.

Q: What's Fushimi Niki's parents' family like? Yellow: It's a family of ancient extraction. Niki was a maverick among them. (Note: Fushimi's family being quite grand isn't really surprising. It was hinted in LSW when mentioning "head family [本家]". If it's an ordinary family without some heritage, no one cares about head family or branch family.)

Scepter 4

Q: Does Saruhiko set his hair every morning? Yellow: Yes. With hair wax, I suppose.

Q: Does Akiyama set his hair every morning, or is that the result of his hair naturally disarranged during sleep? Red: You'll have to ask the anime director regarding this.

Q: Among Munakata, Fushimi, and Enomoto, who has the worst eyesight? Yellow: Munakata. Not decided who comes second, but Munakata has the worst eyesight IMO.

Green: Scepter 4 members goes to family restaurant often. Especially Special Ops, since unlike Munakata, they are common people with common people taste.

Q: Who has the best alcohol tolerance in Special Ops? Red: Akiyama drinks quietly, but he's really good at it. It seems that he often enjoys drinking nice and slow with Benzai.

Q: When did Akiyama and Benzai first meet? Red: When they were students, attending the same school. They've known each other since long ago.

Q: Doumyouji kept going to blind dates (in Countdown manga). Any luck? Red: I think yes. He has good looks to begin with. But in the end, he gets no progress.

Q: Is Konomura (in Case Files of Blue) doing well? Red: Good as ever. He's still travelling around the world. BTW I plan to write about this too.

Q: What's Kusuhara's role in Idol K? Red: He joined Scepter 4, but didn't make a debut yet. He might have the chance to.

Homra

Q: Is Kusanagi-san happy? Green: Don't worry. He finds happiness in bringing happiness to the people around him. So he gets his happiness alright.

Q: Does Kusanagi-san have various recipe for red bean paste cocktail? Green: I heard that red bean paste cocktail does exist in reality. But Kusanagi improved his in trial and error, day by day.

Q: In the after story, did Munakata drink that red bean paste Martini? Green: Kusanagi can make red bean paste Martini tasty. However, the one he made for Munakata was deliberately not.

Q: What brand of cigarette does Kusanagi smoke? Green: What does that dude smoke? ...Nothing weird, just ordinary brands.

Q: Does Kusanagi get to fight in K7S? Red: Oh will he? Um... (really long thinking) ...Ah! He will!

Q: Did Suoh know the arrangements in Bar Homra's kitchen? Did he step into it at all? Red: I think he went in once for dish washing. He basically wouldn't set foot in the kitchen though.

Q: Will Anna attend Ashinaka Academy? A: Not decided yet, but this sounds like a nice idea.

Q: If Anna goes to junior high school while Suoh and Totsuka were still around, what will they say? Green: They'd be like overly-fond parents, won't they! Tatsuka would be acting like a big brother, while Suoh getting a bit jealous about it.

Q: Did Yata's mom name her children Misaki, Minoru, Megumi for a reason? (Note: Misaki means flowers beautifully blooming. Minoru means fruit. Megumi here means spout. Nope, Misaki does not mean vanguard. That's a pun.) Yellow: She gave them plant related names, representing her hope in them growing fast and well like plants.

Q: Are details of Kusanagi-san's siblings decided? Age and stuff. Green: Kusanagi? (Turns to Yellow) Say, any plans for Kusanagi's siblings? Yellow: Eh? We haven't discussed this yet. Green: That's right. Pending.

K Project

Q: How are K characters' birthdays decided? Green: We decided together. "This character should be this zodiac sign. What do you say?", sort of like this.

Red: Ady's middle name might be revealed in the future.

Q: I wonder about Kokujouji's tomb and funeral. A: I think he had a quiet and solemn ceremony.

Q: Did the slate just get wracked without having actual settings? A: We didn't have time to show it in anime, but we did come up with settings, which might be revealed if necessary.

Q: What happens to Homra insignia after the slate is gone? Red: It remains. Q: Including Fushimi's? Red: Yes.

Q: Is there a reason why Neko and Nagare both got heterochromia? Green: Kagutsu Incident did a great deal of damage. Their heterochromia is due to its effect as well.

Q: Will Habari Jin show up in K 7 Stories? Red: Habari in K7S? Eh... Well... Q: Is this a secret? Red: It's a secret.

(This one was from last week's Q&A.) Q: Will Fushimi show up in K 7 Stories? Red: Yes. I suppose every character will. Q: Including Kagutsu? Red: We have visual of him. Can't say if he's gonna speak or not. I guess that counts as yes.

Q: Will some clans' past be elaborated in K7S? Red: Yes. Oops, I shouldn't tell. Please look forward to it.

Red: Last year was for making preparations. This year we'll show the world!

#k project #Scepter 4 #Munakata Reisi #Fushimi Saruhiko #Kusanagi Izumo #totsuka tatara #suoh mikoto #yata misaki #kushina anna #akiyama himori #benzai yujiro #Hidaka Akira #Kusuhara Takeru #GoRa Tweets #translation

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stompsite · 7 years

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dev blog #0000 - Origin Story

You might have heard that I’m working on a video game. This is true. I am working with some utterly incredible folks on a video game. We call it Game One.

I’ve tried to get various game project started over the years. When I first got sick, I ended up with inflammation in my brain that messed me up somethin fierce. Reading, writing, programming, all gone. I worked really hard, and I got the writing back over half a decade or so. Reading too. Nowhere near as good as I was, but passable. Programming, though? That never came back. Maybe, with treatment. Maybe. It would be impossible without other people, though.

Every time I’d suggest a project--that first person XCOM, the tiny linear shooter, heck, the little business management game, the strategy game--people would get all enthusiastic about it, I’d draw up a design document, and, of course, nothing would come of it. Getting people organized online is like wrangling cats. The furthest we got, some art folks actually did art, didn’t tell anyone, played Minecraft, and wondered why we hadn’t made a game of the art we didn’t know existed.

Then along comes my friend Phillip Bastien. I’d hit on this new idea for a story, I thought it was great, I was telling him about it, and he goes silent. Something like ten minutes later, he hits me up with a drawing of a character I’ve been calling the Plague Knight. Not a great name, but it gets the job done, and the drawing? Well, wow. It was awesome.

One of the great things about Phillip is that he gets what’s in my head better than most. The only difference between my vision and his is that I had the guy with candles floating above the head, but I think Phillip’s version works better.

Here’s the most recent finished piece:

We tossed some stuff back and forth. Visuals started taking shape. I’m lucky to have a friend like Phillip. One thing I’ve learned is that the greatest physical motivator is having a visual. People don’t believe the game is real until they’ve got concept art. That’s the key thing. I’d never had good concept art before. Mine is awful, and I don’t know many artists willing to sketch some stuff up to help the project move along. This game would not have happened without Phillip.

It was readily apparent that this shooter was too big; I think an early description framed it as “an RPG shooter that blends elements of Halo, The Legend of Zelda, and Shadow of the Colossus with the movement of Mirror’s Edge” or something. Too big. Way too big. Not like the smaller games. Plus, single-player shooters don’t really sell that well unless they’re big, open-world titles with big brand names behind them.

I knew that making a competitive shooter was simpler--it’s why most mod teams (and Valve, which has that weird flat structure thing) work best with them--but competitive indie shooters don’t sell. There’s a reason most of you aren’t out there playing Nexuiz, Screencheat, Contagion, or Toxikk. Heck, competitive shooters rarely do well in any space.

Co-op I figured we could do. Payday: The Heist and Payday 2 had done pretty well, for instance. Borderlands games are pretty popular. Gamers seem to enjoy cooperative shooters, and good ones sell reasonably well. Horde was Gears of War 3′s biggest mode; Halo fans begged 343i for a return to Halo’s Firefight mode. This genre seemed like a great place to start. Plus, I, and the people I’d been talking about making a game with, were all experts in the cooperative shooter space. If there’s one style of game design we knew, it was this.

I had a world I liked. A visual approach that felt right. And the right genre. I took to calling it Game One, because nothing I tried felt right. Turns out some amazing friends, like my buddies Cameron, Kevin, and Jacob, were into it. We got started properly early in 2016, though various real-life events (graduation, moving, illness, computer death, learning how to use source control) conspired against us. Progress is being made. It’s slow-going, but it’s happening. This game is real.

I’m trying to describe a nonlinear process in a linear way; this may seem kinda disconnected because of that. Sorry. Things will start making more sense in future blog posts.

Personally, I don’t want to talk about the game world much; I don’t like reading about other people’s lore until they achieve the end result. In general, I think a lot of folks get caught up in talking about their lore and how interesting they think their lore is, and that’s all well and good, but it’s not what interests me. I’d rather surprise you with a cool universe you can explore in-game than go into detail about it right now. What I can do is tell you about the most interesting ideas.

Game design is, ultimately, a means of problem solving, and Game One is meant to address a bunch of problems, which I’ll talk about in the coming weeks.

Problem 1: The Abilities Need To Be Interesting

One of my comrades, Kevin, expressed a big problem he had with a lot of shooters, which is that a lot of characters have just one ability. In Borderlands, you pick a class, and that class uses that ability and that ability only. Same thing in Destiny. You have multiple sub-classes, but it takes time for abilities to charge, so when you switch sub-classes, you have to start over from 0, so effectively, you have just one ability in most missions.

This isn’t a bad style of design, mind you, but it is predominant, and it can get old after a while. We wanted to have provide players with a more interesting way to play.

Problem 2: The Guns Need To Be Interesting

You’d think this would be a given. If someone is making a shooter, shouldn’t their weapons be interesting? Unfortunately, way too many shooters utilize the same basic weapon paradigms; the resulting combat rarely requires thought from the players. How do you make shooter guns interesting again?

Problem 3: How to Eliminate The Boredom Created By Min-Maxers

One of my good friends became a bad person to play games with. He was directly responsible for my waning interest in Payday 2, because he wanted to play the same two missions over and over again, because this let him earn the maximum possible XP. This gets boring after a while because, well, you’re only playing two missions.

Destiny faces a similar problem, especially early on; repeating content gets boring, especially when it’s predictable. When content becomes repetitive, players naturally want to start optimizing. Pretty soon, Destiny got to a point where players all had to use similar loadouts (Gjallarhorn was the optimal rocket launcher, for instance) or risk being dissed by their peers. I remember playing one particular match where I started using a gun I liked, only to be asked, with disgust, why I would ever use that gun, when I should be using more ideal weaponry. “Because it’s fun” was met with jeers.

This goal was important to me personally; I’m a big shooter fan in part because I love shooting creatively. It’s frustrating to hear a friend say “this shooter was boring because I only used one gun the entire game, but it was the best gun.”

I think having a good metagame is important, but all too often, players find ways to run with optimal loadouts or play styles, and I wanted to do my best to circumvent that, encouraging players to try new things rather than doing the same thing over and over again.

Problem 4: Movement Needs To Make A Comeback

Shooters ought to have interesting movement. Since I started messing around with Game One, a bunch of games, like Destiny, Doom, and Titanfall have launched, pushing the need for movement into the foreground. Awesome. I still think there’s some room for improvement, so I’ll be talking about that at length really soon.

There’s a bunch of other stuff I could talk about, but that’s for future devblogs. Tonight, I just wanted to let you know what the plan is: in between my normal games criticism stuff, I’m going to start showing how I’m trying to practice what I preach, and, way more importantly, how absolutely incredible my brothers in arms are, and the lessons we’ve learned along the way.

Anyways, we’re making the game now. It’s a real thing. It’s playable. We’ve got dedicated servers working, and we can play the game together. It’s rough, of course (a lack of manpower working part time will do that to you), but it’s getting there. Hopefully, we’ll find a cool indie publisher willing to back us so we can get this thing out the door soon.

Stick around, would you?

#devblog

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csrgood · 4 years

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(Part 4) Surviving Climate Change: Can Democracy Save Us?

This article was originally published on Medium. To read the full 5-Part Series please click here.

By Brad Zarnett

Democracy is Struggling

Liberal Democracy doesn't appear to be able to address climate change or the underlying economic system that’s causing it. Yes, when things are good Democracy works just fine and there’s plenty of time to explore different options but during an emergency, when time is short, and countries need to make hard decisions quickly, the system falters.

Like an army during wartime, the window for discussion has closed. The time has come to execute the plan that will give us the best chance of keeping us within our carbon budget. Compromise which may work in normal times is a luxury that we can no longer afford. Just like on the battlefield - the time for debate is over.

A Perfect Storm of Inaction

The Democratic approach to addressing climate change has always been a juggling act. Politicians are torn between their own selfish desires to keep their jobs and doing what’s best for the country. This requires that the politician holds space for two policy ideas that are incompatible - support for a growing fossil fuel industry and promises to tackle climate change.

Yet somehow on election night this absurd narrative is bought by enough citizens and the politician wins. Now it’s time to pay back the financial support from business interests in the form of regulatory changes or tax reductions - this is to ensure that funding continues to flow for the next election. Simultaneously, politicians must appear to be doing what’s best for the country in terms of climate change which has become a key issue for the majority of voters.

“These two ideas can only co-exist in a world where logic is suspended and unicorns run free.”

The problem is that climate change is an all encompassing energy and systems challenge, and to address it effectively requires shrinking the fossil fuel sector. This is problematic for poll-watching politicians for two reasons. It interferes with their future election funding needs and it would also likely cause major disruptions in how we source and use energy, and that means job disruptions and inconvenience - not exactly a winner on voting day.

The wiggle room for politicians is that because climate change is relatively slow moving, they can pretend that they’re doing something when in fact nothing of consequence is happening. In this way, system disruption is minimal, jobs are protected and politicians can have money spending “photo ops” to further the mirage that they’re making progressive climate investments for the future. This is how you win elections in the era of liberal democracy and climate change.

To watch this dance in action, just watch my Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau, explain how he plans to expand pipelines while continuing to make promises about tackling climate change. These two ideas can only co-exist in a world where logic is suspended and unicorns run free.

The Battle Lines

If it’s not clear by now, (see Parts 1-3) corporations and the super rich control most of our liberal democracies and they've been interfering with progressive climate legislation for decades. The time for talk has passed and the battle lines are clear. On one hand we have a majority of people who are supported by science and who are deeply concerned about the future, and on the other hand we have the corporate elite and billionaires who are ignoring science and fighting for the status quo.

A Simple Ask

A successful citizen climate strategy must be simple, it must speak with one voice and it must have a clear message. The effort might seem like it’s directed at politicians but it’s actually the voting public that’s the primary audience - they need to be won over. If the public connects with the message then government will respond - if they don’t, then government will feel justified in ignoring the movement or using force to shut it down.

The Demands

Stop stonewalling on progressive climate legislation at the behest of the corporate elite and billionaires. We demand three things from our politicians:

Do your job! Use the power that we’ve granted you to prevent climate chaos. Lower emissions now - not by 2050 when runaway climate change will already be wreaking havoc on our society.

Provide a financial safety net for those who face the immediate impacts of progressive legislation and a climate breakdown. That would include protection and compensation for anyone in the fossil fuel sector who may lose their job or for those who may experience housing loss due to climate induced, floods, fires or hurricanes.

Stop telling us that there’s no money. If there’s money for endless wars, trillion dollar bailouts for Wall St., and trillions more in the form of subsidies for fossil fuel companies, then there’s money to pay for the transition to a post carbon economy.

Shake the System

1. Voting

I think we all want to believe that our vote makes a difference but I’m not so sure anymore. I think we can elect good people like AOC, Elizabeth May (Canadian Green Party Leader) and Jacinda Arden (Prime Minister of New Zealand) who can raise good ideas in parliament/congress and the media, and sometimes when given the chance, they can even legislate progessive policy. But without a massive shift in voter behaviour, these individuals are often just a lone voice or part of a tenuous coalition in a sea of corporate backed legislation.

I don’t suggest that we give up on voting for candidates who will protect the climate, in fact, to the contrary, I think we need to fight harder than ever but I also think we also have to be realistic about the democratic process these days. I’m not hopeful that it will deliver the necessary political changes to protect our biosphere but I do think that it’s an important ingredient in the quest for change.

2. Civil Disobedience

Something changed when Greta Thunberg entered the world stage. She was able to call out the lies and hypocrisy of our leaders like only a child could. It felt good to have someone in the room telling the so called leaders, what we’ve been thinking for so long, but as Greta would admit, it hasn’t changed policy in a meaningful way.

Global governments continue to subsidize the oil industry by trillions every year, and since the 2015 Paris agreement, 33 major global banks have collectively poured $1.9tn into fossil fuels, according to Rainforest Action’s report. Apparently corporate and political promises mean nothing.

Next came Extinction Rebellion. They tried to shock people to get their attention while also testing different ideas of how to interfere with the capitalist system. There was arguably some success but the demonstrations also caused many busy people to be inconvenienced and this was a serious misstep. As I stated earlier, the voting public is an essential ally that needs to be won over for any changes to occur. But none of it mattered to the government - their response was the same as with Greta - nothing. What did change however, was that the government pulled a new tool out of their toolbox by using the police to arrest demonstrators .

Real Time Civil Disobedience in Canada

Justin Trudeau’s government, (that campaigned as champions of indiginous reconciliation) is currently in a heated dispute over the expansion route of the Trans Mountain Pipeline through Wet'suwet'en First Nation territory. (There are a lot of details to this story but I’m going to just try and hit the highlights - if you’d like to read more about the dispute, please click here)

After the project was approved in 2019, the Wet’suwet’en First Nation put up a road blockade that stopped vehicles from entering the pipeline construction work site. What followed were a series of chess moves that continue to this day.

Next came an eviction notice by the Wet’suwet’en First Nation, telling the pipeline company that workers were “trespassing” on their unceded territory. This was followed by a Government issued court order calling for the removal of any Wet'suwet'en camps or obstructions blocking the road.

Next British Columbia’s RCMP was mobilized and sent to the site, where they awaited further orders to use force. And with that action, in solidarity with the Wet’suwet’en First nation, other indiginous groups across the country established rail blockades. This caused CN Rail to shut down its eastern network, which effectively stopped all cross-country freight trains. This has been going on for approximately 3 weeks and in that time the RCMP and the Ontario Provincial Police have also been mobilized, often within view of the blockades as a show of force, as they await Justin Trudeau’s order to move in.

The inevitable economy and jobs spin

The government claims that the blockades are hurting Canadians. There are disruptions to supply chains and now both CN and Via Rail have announced 450 and “nearly 1000” temporary layoffs. Nice timing for the narrative that will allow the government to say that it’s fighting for Canadian jobs.

Trudeau gives the order.

Clearly the indiginous action got the attention of the government and that’s a good thing but Trudueau is being attacked for being weak and for allowing the economy to be hijacked and finally 5 days ago the pressure reached a boiling point. At a press conference Justin Trudeau said that patience has run out and that “the barricades must come down.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZAXQlzzvcQ

So far it has been peaceful but his challenge isn’t going away. Some barricades have been voluntarily disbanded, others have been disbanded peacefully through arrests but some are still standing and others are still popping up. How far will this go? How much force will the government use? Only time will tell.

Negotiate at the barrel of a gun.

It’s important to note that during the standoff the government said that they want to solve this through dialogue, and there has been some, but the Hereditary Chiefs of the Wet'suwet'en First Nation said that they won’t negotiate at the barrel of a gun. And that brings up the question as to whether this is really a negotiation or is the Government just looking to strong arm the Wet'suwet'en First Nation into allowing the construction to continue. It’s not like the government will take no for an answer. So what kind of negotiation is it if the outcome is already predetermined?

And incidentally, have you ever noticed that those with the power cling to the rule of law as a reason to force their might onto the less powerful? Laws don’t magically mean that something is right. After all, slavery was legal in the United States until 1865 and women weren’t allowed to vote in Canada until 1922 and not until 1940 in Quebec.

Can Civil Disobedience Work for Climate Change?

Is civil disobedience that interferes with the capitalist system a viable way to drive change in climate policy? We’re watching a real time example unfold here in Canada. Here are some points to consider.

While this action may have some commonality with the climate movement regarding pipelines, it is first and foremost, an indiginous issue about control of their land and the government is very weary of using too much force. It is very difficult to draw conclusions as to how the government would respond if hundreds or even thousands of climate activists clogged our railway system with barricades.

There are some brilliant aspects to this approach that are worth noting.

It’s decentralized. There’s no need for a large organizational team.

It’s quick and easy to set up a barricade and it can be done within hours

It’s very difficult for the government to defend against it.

It doesn’t provoke and alienate the public - at least not directly. Jane and Joe Public are allies that need to be won over, not inconvenienced while trying to pick up their kids at daycare.

There needs to be a support system for the protestors. Blockades can go on for months and even years.

Protesters will need a supply line for food, water and a heat source in the winter

There needs to be a system in place to supplement the income of people who choose to be out there for months at a time sacrificing their chance to earn a living.

Risks

The disruption of business can be used by populist leaders to target the protestors as radicals who are destroying the economy. This would give the government cover to get overly aggressive while hiding behind the rule of law.

The Government can call a state of emergency and can arrest and hold people without charges - take away their civil rights.

The Government has access to the police and the army and they can shut down the blockades with force at any time they want.

This style of battle will be fought in the media.

It will need good public speakers

It will need marketing professionals

It will need video and graphics specialists - a meme can be worth a thousand words

It will need social media specialists

Conclusion

Can Democracy, with all of its flaws, be used to address the climate crisis? Is civil disobedience the best chance we have? It seems like a wild card at best - no government wants to look weak or foolish.

In many ways it’s a game of chicken - who will blink first? How far will the government go in its use of force? How hard will the resistance fight? How many people have to be arrested or lives lost for the government to feel pressure and reverse its policy?

The corporate elite and billionaires will never give up their power without a fight - and they fight dirty. The government has access to the police, the military and the corporate media who they can call on anytime to pitch their narrative and/or to shut down the demonstrations with force. It’s happening right now to our indiginous people - stay tuned because we're about to learn a valuable lesson about the viability of civil disobedience.

In the final part of this series (Part 5) I will look at what our choices are if government doesn’t respond. What other options do we have?

To read the full series, “Surviving Climate Change: Where Should We Place Our Hope? Business, Government or Ourselves.” Please click here for��Part 1

source: https://www.csrwire.com/press_releases/43768--Part-4-Surviving-Climate-Change-Can-Democracy-Save-Us-?tracking_source=rss

#CSR #corporate social responsibility #social good #philanthropy #employee engagement #workplace givi

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getpregnant-blog1 · 5 years

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Why Do Adult Children Lack Self-Acceptance?

New Post has been published on http://www.karanschmidt.com/2019/06/13/why-do-adult-children-lack-self-acceptance/

Why Do Adult Children Lack Self-Acceptance?

Every child arrives in the world as a blank slate on which his parents or primary caregivers write. If they themselves are products of unresolved, unrecovered alcoholism, para-alcoholism, dysfunction, or abuse, and remain in denial about it, it is a distorted reflection of them that the child's slate becomes. None of this breeds very much self-acceptance, especially if he fails to question the treatment to which he was subjected later-in-life.

It both begins and hinges upon their acceptance and love of him, and if they have not addressed their own issues, it may be infinitely demonstrated. Forced to see himself as his parents did, he may subconsciously engage in more self-rejecting than self-accepting.

One of the reasons for it, which may at first be viewed as a positive manifestation, is perfectionism.

"Perfectionism is a response to a shame-based and controlling home," according to the "Adult Children of Alcoholics" textbook (World Service Organization, 2006, p. 36). "The child mistakenly believes that she can avoid being accused if she is perfect in her thinking and acting. However, our experience shows that expectations are continually raised in these kinds of homes. During those moments, our critical inner voice begins to form. This is an early sign of internalizing our parents' hypercritical attitudes.

It is thus inextricably tied to parent acceptance of the child's performance, achievements, actions, and behavior.

Believing, without question, his parents' own perfection, and not understanding why their acceptance of him may be lacking, he asserts the burden himself, concluding that he is unequate, flawed, and unlovable as a creation, unable to entertain the thought that they function from their own shortcomings. Anticipating the danger and emotional overload such a thought would have by an intellectually, psychologically, and neurologically undeveloped child, he finds it more stabilizing to accept the blame itself than attribute it to them. Unable to care for himself, he relays on them for nurturing and his very survival.

Berating himself for these flaws, needless to say, does little to foster his self-acceptance later-in-life.

"Condemning my imperfections has never advanced my appreciation of life or helped me to love myself more," advises Al-Anon's "Courage to Change" text (Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc., 1992, p. 19). "Perhaps I can let go of all condemnation for this one day. I will recognize that I am on a spiritual path of self-improvement. Every tiny step I take on that path moves me closer to wholeness, health, and sanity."

Yet that person's childhood was a path that led in the opposite direction. An object, at times, of shame, blame, and out-and-out hatred, especially if his parents were fueled by alcohol, he could hardly have equated these actions with acceptance, much less love. As a human repository, he may have served as the target of their projections, which contained their own stored, unresolved episodes of abuse, and these were more than likely triggered by the presence of the child himself.

Doused to distorted saturation by the negative, highly-charged emotions his parents could not contain, he believed he was the embodiment of those horrible feelings, yet was unaware that they were feelings transferred to him. They did not originate with him. Drenched by them, and subjected to ever-mounting deluges of them through his upbringing, he more than bought into them. They were and are him, he concluded.

Emotionally overloaded and most likely negotiating life with varying degrees of mistrust, hypervigilance, continuously retrigered traumas, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) does not even understand, he can barely get to the center of a negatively converted self, much less " accept "it.

Self-acceptance implies an acknowledgment, embracing, and loving of a person's true or authentic self, which, created by God or a Higher Power of his understanding, is richly endowed and intrinsically euphoric. Its essence is love. But dangerous, damaging, and shaming upbringings characterized by instability and lack of safety forced the child to subconsciously reconfigure his brain and adopt so-called "survival practices" that include isolation, fear of parent-representing authority figures, approval-seeking, people- pleasing, overdeveloped senses of responsibility, denied and repressed childhood feelings and fears that were squelched o the point of numbered nonexistence, harsh self-judgment, low self-esteem, and the continuous subject of childhood-created, but unresolved triggers and reactions, all in an effort to function as an adult in the outside world with what he experienced as a child in the inside world. That "inside world," of course, was his home-of-origin.

"… we realized that we lived by a set of survival practices known as the laundry list," the "Adult Children of Alcoholics" textbook continues (op. Cit., P.435). "This list describes a false self that can only accomplish self-hate and self-harm. There is no self-acceptance in the false self."

The true self most likely remains buried in the protective cocoon the person was forced to create so that he could naturally escape and seek refuge from an unstable or dangerous parent.

As long as its remains buried in its sanctuary, however, the person can not connect with it, nor, indirectly, with others and his Higher Power, leaving him perpetually on the outside, looking in. Unable to accept himself, he is equally unable to accept others.

Progressively dissolving all of these sometimes very powerful and painful childhood-rooted manifestations, recovery, albeit at a slow pace, enables the person to identify and re-accept his authentic self-the one that is richly endowed and does not hinge upon others' assessments Egypt judgments of him.

"My friend and I resolve that in the future, we will try less, accept more, and let go of our impatience, self-criticism, and self-hatred," "Courage to Change" concludes (op. Cit., P. 7). "We take a deep breath and say, 'Help me, Higher Power. Help me remember that the purpose of making mistakes is to prepare myself to make more; help me remember that when I'm no longer making mistakes, I'll be out of this world '. "

What is most important here is that the person realizes that, in his imperfect, impermanent state, that it is inevitable that he will make mistakes, but that he is not the embodiment of a mistake his upbringing may have led him to believe.

Article Sources:

"Adult Children of Alcoholics." Torrance, California: Adult Children of Alcoholics World Service Organization, 2006.

"Courage to Change." Virginia Beach, Virginia: Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc., 1992.

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