Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Pock died

My Armageddon character died last night. It was sad. I'd put in over 100 hours into that character and he (or I) had experienced a lot of rich scenes, but they were all cut short by a couple of twinkish elven assassins. Here's what happened:

Winding Alleyway [NE]
Worn and cracked walls of red-clay brick and old stone flank the sides
of this narrow and twisting alleyway. Trash, excrement and old gnawed bones
lie in scattered heaps on the hard-packed earthen ground giving off foul,
sickly odours that thicken the air with the telltale reek of disease. The
entire length of the alley lies in shadow, the sky being but a narrow crack
overhead between the shattered tops of leaning ramshackle buildings. The
air hangs thick and deathly still, as if even Whira found it too repellent a
place to move about in.
This dank alleyway snakes off to the north and east.
The tall figure in a dark, hooded cloak is standing here.
The very short figure in a dark, hooded cloak is standing here.

You search for a good place to hide.

<96|113|66|sneakingYou groan loudly as someone sticks a fang between your ribs!
Your concentration is broken!
Someone slams a halfsword into your back - hitting your heart!
Your vision goes black.
_______ ___
/\\_____//~-_ _-~\\__
(~) ~-_ ~-_ _-~ _-~
(~) ~-_ ~-_ _-~ /-~
Welcome to Armageddon! (~) `~-_ ~_======_--~~ __~

I hadn't even realized that they were following me when - BEEP, it was over. The character's life was cut short. He had things going on which will never be finished. Some other characters will probably never figure out what happened to him. It always bugs me when shit like that happens, but it also makes me realize how transitory our life and our experiences are. They're so fleeting. Opportunities pass by so quickly. Life goes so fast. It's just annoying. It makes life bittersweet. That's why I have to live forever. ;)

What else is happening? I finished Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse. It was a crazy book, and somewhat related to what I wrote - the bittersweetness of life, the craziness of it all, and the difficulty one has in accepting it.

I'm sorta facing a crossroads right now where I have to make the decision: have good times now, or get serious now and and have good times later. Maybe it's not so clear-cut, but I really have been fuckin' around for a long, long time, and even though I realize it, on some level I don't want to stop it. It's damn fun to have fun. I won't be this age ever again.

Then again, maybe I could get serious: do more studying, do more working, and do more meaningful things in life while still having fun. But something has to go, and Armageddon is just as fun as most of the other stuff I do to me. Who knows.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Other news...

What else have I been up to?

  • Investigating possible celiac sprue
  • Playing Armageddon in my freetime. My assassin of 3 days, 16 hours has branched many of the skills some people take 10 days to branch.
  • Working, looking for a new job.
  • Being made fun of by the hordes of little girls at my work.
  • Wishing I had the initiative to start up an online business.
  • Dreaming of becoming muscular.
Fun fun. Sorry, there's not much funny to share right now. Am I ever funny on this blog?

Which gives me an idea. I could start a blog with all the funny, stupid things I see on Armageddon. Good idea.

White Nights, the PUA Literature

Today I was reminded again that the roots of the PUA movement, or at least the ideas present in them, crop up frequently in classical literature. The first time I witnessed it was in Basil and Josephine by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Many great authors follow a chain of influences, and one of Fitzgerald's great influences was undoubtedly Dosteovesky.

So I started White Nights today and was intrigued by the nature of the story. It was a self-styled dreamer, shy and introspective, who somehow happened upon a girl, one who he happened to understand well. He was obviously tripping all over himself with her romantically, but the girl understood him completely and they became friends. The boy - I should say man, since he's 26 - constantly exposes his weakness. He nearly cries, constantly decries his silly dreaming ways, and declares his love for Nastenka constantly.

There's a few telling quotes in the story: "And you know, I compared the two of you and decided that you are the better of the two, though I love him more."

I won't spoil the rest of the story, plus I'm lazy. Highly, highly reccomended poignant little story. Mine was in a compilation with Notes from Underground - likely my favorite story.