Saturday, 9 May 2009

Eeaeeaeaeeeeeeruruuugh, you ever keep around an album, book or dvd that you know will always depress you? Not one that's sad in itself, but one that you associate with a bad time in your life, or a good period that turned to shit? Either way, one you'd rather forget. Why the fuck would someone keep something like that around, ESPECIALLY if it's something ONLY associated with that period? But it's something you enjoyed at the time, and without that history, you'd still be able to enjoy it.

But you can't NOT watch/read/listen to it, even though you know it always sends you down a dangerous introspective valley that you'll have a hard time leaving again, am I right? I just don't get if it's wanting to experience the material openly with no thought to what you associate it with or a self-destructive tendency that keeps rearing it's ugly head. And no matter how many times you purge the material from your life, it always seems to creep back into it, intentionally or otherwise.

I also fucking hate it when you're at one end of a room and smell a shitty smell, then worry it's you. So you head to the other end of the room, and you can STILL smell it, so you're SURE it's you. But then your friends start to notice it too...

...then one of the bastards owns up to it. That was a fucking evil fart if we could smell it on BOTH sides of the room, and I'm fucking glad that smell wasn't me.

Tuesday, 21 April 2009

thanks for caring so much, seriously. it was real nice of you to lead me on for so long just to spare my feelings. it was totally awesome that you cared about me so much that you did the one mother-fucking thing I asked you not to. it rocked how you put so much effort into your lies that i'd stopped questioning if you felt the same way anymore. it was all so convincing. thank you for saying such nice things, even if you didn't mean them. i felt really good about myself for awhile there

thanking you for helping me trust people again, even if it was only for a few months

i'm real pleased you were kind enough to wait to drop your facade until after the student nationals. it was very considerate of you to not lump this on me over the weekend, as I would've hated to end up letting down a friend over this.

thank you for waiting to tell me this the day i'd managed to bring you up with a friend without feeling weird about it. i can't wait to look like a fucking idiot tomorrow.

it's brilliant that you've tainted my precious few hobbies and interests forever. they were expensive anyway

thanks for that final push

i'm very grateful that you told me at this awful time of morning, so that i couldn't go out and get a drink to settle my nerves and deal with my dry throat. that's probably no good for me anyway. on that note, thank you for making me remember I've still got a full bottle of absinthe. i'd hate for it to have gone to waste.

thanks for dealing with it so well. i'd hate to feel even more guilty about all this shit.

it's great that i can spend more time playing World of Warcraft now. awesome

i appreciate your concerns over "breaking a heart". but you can't break something that hadn't been fixed in the first place.

i'm so pleased that my favourite GWAR songs are relevent again. i wasn't quite sure what to do there.

cheers for confirming everything i ever feared about myself, and justifying all my self-loathing.

thank you for never reading my blog. i hate myself enough for how much i upset you, i'd hate to rub salt into that wound by having you read me venting like this.

and finally, thank you very fucking much for proving me fucking right about all of you fucking people, you congenitally manipulative and deceitful i can't say it

fuckfuckfuckffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff

thank you for giving me something to bitch and complain about on here. for awhile there i was worried this was going to be one of those blogs that was sort of fun to read


Wednesday, 15 April 2009

WAAAAUGH FOREVUR!

(To the tune of "Have You Ever", by The Offpring)



WAAAUGHING, OI'M WAAAUGHING!
WAAAUGHING, OI'M WAAAUGHING!

AVE YOO EVUR DROVE FROO A WAAAUGH
BUT IT WUZ MORE LOIK DA WAAAUGH PASSED ROUND YOO
LIKE DERE WAS A RUNTHERD DAT POKED AN PUSHED YOO FROO?

AVE YOU EVUR BEEN AT SUMPLACE
RECOGNIZIN EV'RY ORKY FACE
UNTIL YOO REELIZED DAT WAZ NO-ONE DERE YOU KNEW?
WELL OI WAAAUGH!

SUM DAYZ, ME BIKE'S KONFINED AN' ALL SIDELINED
SULK FOREVUR
SUM DAYZ, OI'M SO OUT-WAAAUGGH'D AN' OUT UV TIME!
'AVE YOU EVUR?

WAAAUGHING, OI'M WAAAUGHING!
WAAAUGHING, OI'M WAAAUGHING!

'AVE YOO EVUR BURIED YER FIST IN YER FACE
COZ NO-ONE AROUND YOO WANTED TO RACE
OR AZ DA SLIGHTEST IDEA WOT IT IZ TO BE ORKY?

'AVE YOO EVUR FELT LIKE YOU KILT MORE
LIKE SUMONE ELSE WUZ FUDGIN' SCORE
AN' WOT CUD MAKE YOU WAAAUGH WAS SIMPLEE OWT UV REECH?
WELL OI WAAAUGH!

SUMDAY OI'LL RIDE AGAIN AN' NOT REAR-END
DIS TIME FOREVUR!
SUMDAY OI'LL STEER IT STRATE BUT NOT TODAY!
AV' YOO EVUR?

WAAAUGHING, OI'M WAAAUGHING!
WAAAUGHING, OI'M WAAAUGHING!

SUM DAYZ, ME BIKE'S KONFINED AN' ALL SIDELINED
SULK FOREVUR
SUM DAYZ, ME BESTEST FREND IZ ME ENGINE!
'AVE YOO EVUR?
SUMDAY OI'LL RIDE AGAIN AN' NOT REAR-END
DIS TIME FOREVUR!
SUMDAY OI'LL STEER IT STRATE BUT NOT TODAY!
AV' YOO EVUR?

WHEN DA TEEF FALLS AWAY
EV'RYBODY STAYS
COZ DA TROOF ABOWT DA WURLD IZ DAT WAAAUGH DOEZ PAY!

SO IF YOO DRIVE AWAY
'OO IZ GONNA STAY
COZ OI'D LOIK TA FINK DA WAAAUGH IZ AN ORKY PLACE!

WHEN DA TEEF FALLS AWAY
EV'RYBODY STAYS
COZ DA TROOF ABOWT DA WURLD IZ DAT WAAAUGH DOEZ PAY!

SO IF YOO DRIVE AWAY
'OO IZ GONNA STAY
COZ OI'D LOIK TA FINK DA WAAAUGH IZ AN ORKY PLACE!

WHEN DA TEEF FALLS AWAY
EV'RYBODY STAYS
COZ DA TROOF ABOWT DA WURLD IZ DAT WAAAUGH DOEZ PAY!

SO IF YOO DRIVE AWAY
'OO IZ GONNA STAY
COZ OI'D LOIK TA FINK DA WAAAUGH IZ AN ORKY PLACE!
OI'D LOIK TA LEEV DA WURLD AS AN ORKY PLACE!
OI'D LOIK TA KILL DA WUUUUUUURLD...

Tuesday, 31 March 2009

AARNHAAD SEZ "GO CHEW ONNA MAAHCROCHIP, DEE-CEPTICREEPS!"


Man, I thought Cyclonus and Dinobot were pretty damn bad-ass, but then I picked up this double-hard bastard. I mean, a bright red SUV isn't quite as threatening as a space fighter or a raptor, but Ironhide makes up for that in spades. For one thing, he's a rugged-as-hell SUV. He's equipped with bull-bars, and I seriously thought these are illegal, because they would certain-kill rather than potentially-maim people if they get hit by them. It's almost like he doesn't care about the safety of humans around, but it's Ironhide. 1: He's not going to endanger defenceless organics, and 2: HE'S IRONHIDE! He's not wearing that thing to minimise damage to his front-end in crashes, he's practically indestructible. No way, that shit is for RAMMIN' DECEPTICHUMPS!

And he's one of the few guys in this line to have a melee and ranged weapon. Hell, it's the SAME weapon! His gatling-looking cannon can flip around, and a blade extends. It fits over his forearm nicely too. I've heard a lot of people complain about the way his hand doesn't retract or anything when you attach the cannon, but I like it like that. This is Ironhide, he's not supposed to be fancy. He's practically a relic, after all. So while I could understand people might complain about this sort of thing on another character, I reckon it suits Ironhide pretty well.

Look at that face. In a line full of uncomfortable grumps (and Bumblebee), he manages to stand out with a look of grim determination. It like he knows he got offed by Megatron in the opening scenes of the 80s version of the movie. He's very clear on the matter of it being because he was making way for new toys, when his didn't even look like him, and this is his first real one in over twenty years. Poor guy didn't even get an Action Master. The Bayformers version is nothing like him, and the TFA version probably won't ever get a toy.

But if you ask me, he's wearing this expression because he's fully aware that by getting taken out so early in the movie, he was ultimately unable to fulfill his duty as Optimus Prime's bodyguard. Sure, he probably wouldn't have been able to turn the tide in the end, but that's not the point. "Ah shoulda been thar to at least trah", as he would probably say.

It is important to know that while he is quite grim, he is most certainly not grimdark.

I will track down a Classics Prime just for this guy to guard, I love him so much...

Friday, 20 March 2009

video
Here's that earlier edit I mentioned. Did this one awhile ago.

Thursday, 19 March 2009

I've been thinking about trying a different type of photography this weekend. I heard this song last night, like, and it's just so sad. And I have this thing when I'm listening to music where I can't stop thinking about what I'd put to whatever song I'm listening to. Occasionally it even gets to the point where I go and do it (Muse/JoJo video, I'm looking at yooou). And so I've had this idea for a photo montage I could put to this particular song I heard last night knocking around my head the best part of the evening now, and it needs letting out. I've done a few different types of photography. Action shots, art, nature, architecture, event, and more recently macro. Emotional photography isn't something I've even considered before now. As an amateur photographer I'm suddenly fascinated by the idea of being able to take a picture in such a way that someone looking at it has no real option but to feel how I want them to feel. A lot of art allows the person experiencing it to find their own feelings regarding the piece, but I can't help but wonder if I'm capable of forcing an emotion on an audience through composition and presentation.

What I have in mind would in particular target the Busou Shinki fanbase (a line of action figure kits that I've been using heavily in recent macro-photography), and of course half of this sort of thing is knowing your audience and playing on the fact that they have an emotional investment in your subject matter. But then of course I start wondering if I can come up with some so emotionally exploitative and manipulative that it'll have affects beyond the enthusiasts of the subject matter. I can't leave the idea alone now, so I'll probably be up all night working on that once I've gorged myself on some raw, bloody meat.

So it's going to get done before I sleep again, that's for sure. I'm just wondering if this sort of photographic urge makes me a progressive artist or just a cunt.

From the desk of Inquisitor Attilus Titus...



I was quite pleased with my Acolytes tonight. They were able to turn a series of mass sacrificial rituals resulting in the creation of a daemonhost with a horde of bloodletters and a charnel daemon against the backdrop of a planetary extinction into much more manageable global devestation and riotting.

A space hulk in orbit around the planet (three ships rammed into an asteroid that were having their tech reclaimed) was being dropped onto a major city on a densely-populated planet (a hair away from a hiveworld). Upon this Hulk ritual sacrifices were being made using Sinophian bore-worms, the blood and gore from the sacrifices dripping onto a throne of skulls amassed from years of ritual combat, where it was slowly forming the charnel daemon. Meanwhile, in a hollowed-out chamber in the asteroid itself, more ritual combat was taking place in an attempt to draw forth bloodletters.

In the city beneath the falling space hulk, a captured Inquistional psyker was being routinely beaten and tortured while across the planet her lover and comrade, a feral warrior, was being forced into a bloodthirsty rage through a mixture of being made to watch her punishment via a video-link and a ruthless cocktail of combat drugs, being prepped to become a daemonhost all the while.

I was surprised that the acolytes even attempted to halt the space hulk's descent, but stirring words from the cleric and inspiring determination from the feral Guardsman spurred them on, and they boarded their small ship and gunned it towards the plummeting hulk.

Having stormed the working docks of one of the ships rammed into the asteroid, the acolytes quickly decided that their best course of action was damage limitation. By blowing up the individual ships in the hulk, they would be able to break it apart quite considerably. While there would still be global devastation as the debris fell, it would still be more better than the rituals being completed and killing the planet and perhaps more besides.

A handful of surviving security personnel were roused by the cleric, who had them fortify the dock to make sure their ship was still there when their grim work was done. Thankfully the first of the three ships was mostly deserted beyond a few bored cultists being left as guards. They were dealt with swiftly, and the first ship was soon rigged to explode. At this point the group split into two groups in order to deal with the remaining two faster.

The first group, the feral guardsman and a noble-born assassin, loaded a maintenance vehicle's trailer with all the explosives they would to destroy one of the ships (and their two gun servitors), while the other group, the cleric and a void-born dreg, decided to go for more of a precision strike, using the third ship's own engines and reactors to destroy it. The groups parted ways at this point. The first group were to deal with the ship where the ritual combat was taking place, while the second would deal with the ship dedicated to sacrifices.

Making good time through the space hulk, the first group quickly noticed a thundering sound echoing through the corridors and ventilation. The guardsman, quite familiar with wild beasts, said that the rhythm was quite similar to that of a charging quadruped, though he knew not how one so clearing large and heavy would come to be aboard a space hulk. Reasoning was forgotten when a bloodletter mounted upon a juggernaut burst through a bulkhead behind them, before turning and charging their trailer. Clearly the cultists had met with more success than anticipated.

On the other end of the hulk, things were not going much smoother. The cleric and dreg had found the location of the ship's sub-warp engines, and unfortunately the sacrificial ritual as well. What looked like an egg-timer with the bottom half cut out had been erected in front of the machinery. Beneath it lay the skull throne, a quivering mass of gore and organs writhing in it's seat in a vain attempt to pull together into some sort of form. Sacrifices were thrown to the bore-worms in the top half of the "egg-timer", and the resulting mess was slowly adding to the charnel daemon's form. A plan was formed; the dreg would try and disrupt the ritual from a duct above, with a handful of incendiary grenades, while the cleric would rig the engines to explode from further back in the chamber.

Meanwhile, the other two acolytes steeled themselves as the relentless juggernaut closed the distance between them, trampling the trailer's rear in the process, but not before the guardsman had softened it up a bit with a krakk grenade. The bloodletter leapt from it's mount, making short work of the two gun servitors before advancing on the assassin. His twin laspistols barely affected the daemon, though the guardsman had a little more success by letting rip with his autogun. From the edge of the assassin's field of vision, he noticed the guardsman's melta sliding down the now-sloped trailer, past the bloodletter and towards the juggernaut...

While this was going on, an incendiary grenade was dropped deftly into the top of the egg-timer, putting an end to the charnel ritual. Or so the dreg thought, as he drew attention away from his comrade at the other end of the chamber. He tossed his second two grenades at the cultists in attendance, sending them most of the way to a fitting demise. I am sorry to say that at this point the unfortunate dreg had expended his supply of incendiaries, and was forced to use frag grenades. The result was messy, and the remains of a dozen exploding cultists splattered against the throne of skulls. It must always be remembered that Khorne cares not whose blood it is, as long as it is spilled. Having accidentally completed the ritual through his indiscriminate bombing, the dreg watched in horror as the charnel daemon was finally able to pull itself together. He was temporarily driven mad by the very sight of it, his vision flooded with visions of the dead he had left behind.

The assassin barrelled through the legs of the bloodletter, quickly retrieving the melta and turning it on the foul daemon's back. The guardsman bravely stepped closer to the abomination, and aided in it's demise by emptying the autogun's clip into it. Their resolve bolstered by overcoming it, the acolytes turned to the juggernaut. Their unified assault destroyed it utterly, leaving a ruined and melted wreck. Of course, the trailer's rear had still been destroyed. There was now no way to transport the mass of explosives further into the ship. There was now no option but to rig them to explode there. It was done, and the acolytes turned about and headed back to their ship.

The Cleric was watching in horror as the charnel daemon, it's form as fluid as the blood and offal that made it up, clambered up the giant engine to reach him. He prayed to the Emperor to guide his hand as he tossed his last satchel charge at the beast. He doubted it would be stopped by this, but at the very least it's advance could be slowed. His aim was true and his timing perfect, blasting the warpspawn off the engine. These precious seconds allowed the cleric to dive to safety in an air duct, before setting off the rest of the charges, setting off a chain reaction which soon began to bring the ship down about his head. But he kept his wits about it and retrieved his whimpering comrade before retreating to their ship.

The dreg came to shortly before the two groups converged in the first ship, but was still understandable quite shaken. Credit must be given where credit due though. Despite him not possessing the intestinal fortitude or unshakable faith of his fellows, he was nevertheless able to safely pilot the ship out of the hulk. And when they reached what they judged to be a safe distance, the remaining two ships were detonated, shattering the plummeting hulk. Though the resulting rain of debris would no doubt cause the deaths of thousands, perhaps millions, there was no doubt that it was better than the alternative.

All that was left was to recover the two acolytes they had been sent to the planet to find and retrieve. The psyker, though gravely injured from the beatings and torture, was saved. Her lover, however, was unable to be saved. Though the ritual was never completed, all the preparations for him to be used as a daemonhost had been finished. It was far too dangerous to let him live now, though the woman he left behind as he was given the Emperor's mercy was comforted somewhat by the cleric assuring her that it was better for him to die this way than to have his soul destroyed by becoming a daemonhost. She still could watch though, as he was given peace through the cleric's holy flames...

...then Chris figured it would be a fucking AWESOME idea to go and guilt the planet's large tech-priest brotherhood into giving them shiny gubbins. Given that the acolytes had saved the planet they were on, and subsequently all their precious secrets, they couldn't really refuse. Least of all when they said they'd go and track down the Heretek responsible for all that shit in the first place for them. Roll on next week's planet of barbarians, my boys've got power fists and man-portable lascannons now!




So I started wondering why a smart guy like Shockwave would colour himself black-and-purple. Any Autobot coloured black-and-purple is going to stand out. And any Decepticon infiltrating without getting rid of his black-and-purple colourscheme is just ASKING for it. It didn't make a whole lot of sense to me.

Then it hit me. If the brave, noble and trusted Longarm Prime starts sporting black-and-purple, people are going to be a lot more willing to trust Autobots with a similar colour-scheme.

"He is coloured black-and-purple, you say? Why, so am I? Are you going to lock me up too?"

That means Decepticons can infiltrate without repainting themselves. BUT it's Shockwave, and he's a DOUBLE-BASTARD. Shockwave ALWAYS plans ahead for ways to take down others with him if he ever gets killed/beaten. If Longarm Prime is suddenly discovered to really be a Decepticon, after all his talk of black-and-purple not meaning you're a Decepticon, every single Autobot with that color-scheme is suddenly going to be suspect. And you know jerks like Sentinal Prime and Ultra Magnus are going to shoot first, ask questions later.

It'll be a full-scale witch-hunt. Primus only knows how many Autobots will be slagged on that fateful, inevitable day...

Of course, Decepticons who infiltrated without changing their colour-schemes are going to get caught in all this too. Shockwave thought of that as well. I guarantee he hand-picked those Decepticons himself, so in a worse-case-scenario at least he'd be cleaning house a little.

So, what does this all mean, ultimately? In truth, not much. Chances are the colour-scheme isn't going to get into the show (although I note the OTHER Target exclusive's colour-scheme has already been in the show). But it's still cool, so one of these babies is getting ordered and sent to my proxies in the US.