splinter cell. chaos theory. i WANT it.

the long, dark teatime of the soul.

I was going to write something here, but I really can't be bothered. Rant later.

legal tender.

I've been handling an abundance of currency from the Isle of Man recently, and no-one since has been able to tell me if it's legal tender or not, so I've been rejecting it. The only 'rare' currency that I really know about is Scottish, which is legal, and that £5 coin with Franklin on the front.

Hmm... I haven't written a huge post in a while, so I guess it's time for another. you lucky people.

I'm changing my bank account soon (hopefully before Friday, so I can buy stuff over t'internet as soon as I get paid), but there's so many out there that I really don't know where to start. One gives an interest free overdraft of two grand, but then no interest on the account either. One gives you the best rate of interest, but charges you for debits. One gives you free overdraft a good rate of interest, free debits, but I have to prove my course at Uni. I think I'll just open a current account at the place that does that one and then upgrade to a student account later.
It really shouldn't be this hard to manage your finances. All these people are doing is stealing from you anyway. I mean, yes, they pay you for the priviledge of holding your money. And I kinda see how it works the other way around - they're borrowing from you and they pay you. When you go the other end and you're borrowing from them, you pay them.
But then why is it that interest rates for overdrafts are larger than interest rates for keeping money in your account? Surely you should be rewarded more for having money, and pity be taken when you're overdrawn?

chattage.

[13:01] Peel: so how have you managed to get money?
[13:02] ::: fluid motion :::: i have a job. you tard.
[13:02] Peel: me too
[13:03] Peel: but i have no money
[13:03] ::: fluid motion :::: yeah but you DON'T GO TO YOURS

i have no money.

But I SHOULD HAVE. Damn material goods taking all my hard-earned pay. At least working overtime gets me more. Woot, I guess.

NN2S is a great example of this. A punk rock comic, SELLING STUFF TO EARN MONEY. It's for a worthy cause (helping the author to move across the country, which I will happily help out on once I've got a) a bank account with debit card, and b) money) but it still kinda grates.

At least what they're selling is awesome. As is the comic.


"There's a skunk in our living room."
"Don't try to change the subject!"

death's-head.

We recently rediscovered a lot of my granddad's old things from the war, and in amongst them were some red 12DM-value Hitler's head stamps. He obviously kept them because he thought they would be worth something, some day - sadly, it seems he was mistaken, as a quick Google returns that it's only worth about two quid at the most.

Pictures to come, if anyone can give me a more accurate valuation.

some hilarious news.

Apparently Powergen are settig up a branch in Italy, which they're going to call Powergen Italia.

The URL?

http://www.powergenitalia.it

Vengeance: A Fan Fiction (Ch1)

You might want to check the post below for the prologue, before you read this.

Chapter One

‘Cold,’ was Derek’s waking thought. ‘Why am I so cold? I must have kicked my sheets off again…’
He sat up from his flat-out position and rubbed his eyes.
“Ah, you’re awake,” a voice said, jolting him out of his post-sleep reverie. The voice was unexpected, out of place – yet somehow familiar.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Derek saw the owner of the voice swim into view in front of him, smiling.
“Sure is dark in here, Kara,” he replied.
“I know,” she said. “I almost couldn’t see you lying there.”
“Racist,” he grinned.
“Now don’t you start that again,” Kara scolded. “That one’s too old now.”
“Will you two keep it down?” Another voice cut in. “I’m kinda sleepy.”
“Who are you?” Derek asked in the direction of the voice.
A clean-cut teenage boy’s face appeared through the murk. His features were chiselled, his hair swept back and trailing over his shoulders, a light auburn, bordering on the silver. His eyes were the deepest blue, and bored into Derek’s own hazel ones with a friendly assertiveness.
“I’m Grant,” he intoned, with a voice that was almost a low growl.
“Kara, you’re staring,” laughed Derek.
She turned away, her ginger hair cascading in front of her face, and blushed. Derek simply smiled.
“So how did you guys get stuck here?” Grant asked, breaking the silence.
“I was woken up by these large, powerful men shining torches in my eyes, and dosed with something that knocked me out. I’ve only just woken up here – what’s going on?”
“I was at the gym,” said Grant. “This tiny guy challenged me to a weightlifting contest. Bet me I’d lose. He was the scrawniest thing I’d ever seen; he was so weak that his skin was a kind of pasty grey. I accepted against my conscience, and we started lifting.
“This guy was bizarre. I can’t explain it. He just kind of concentrated, and muscles seemed to come out of nowhere. We lifted twenty, thirty, forty kilos, he didn’t even show any sign of weakness. I ended up lifting too much, I think. I must have passed out from the strain – I woke up here, just like you guys.”
“I was coming home from work. I was late for dinner, so I took a back alley home – against my better judgement, I guess.” Kara smirked. “These big guys in black rushed me. I screamed like crazy – I thought I was going to be raped for sure - but before I knew it they hit me, knocked me out and I woke up in the van on the way here. I could see Derek asleep on the other side of the van, and another guy slumped in the corner that I didn’t recognise. They opened the door and grabbed me before I could do anything and chucked us all in here. I thought I saw a couple of other people before they slammed the door and the lights went out.”
“How many other people?” asked Derek.
“Only a couple. And no-one’s come in since we did, so one of them must have been you, Grant.”
There was a groan from the darkness.
“Where am I?”
“We don’t know,” said Derek. “But you don’t have to worry about us. We’re friendly.”
“What hit me?” asked the voice. It sounded as if its owner was the youngest of the group, male, and scared. “I was sitting in the garden, playing video games under the tree, when this grown-up comes up and asks me if that’s the new Warriors game. I told him it was the old one, that I’m not allowed the new one. He said he’s get the new one for me if I went with him.
“We went for ice-cream first, and that’s the last thing I remember.”
“What’s your name, kid?” asked Grant.
“Mike,” replied the boy.
“How old are you, Mike?”
“Almost sixteen.”
“Come here, so we can see you,” instructed Derek.
They heard him stand up and walk over to them, tentatively, following their voices. His face finally became visible. For a fifteen-year-old, he looked a lot younger – his golden hair wasn’t pigmented, and hung in a rough bowl cut around his head, with a few locks on his fringe dangling in front of his eyes.
“Is that all of us?” asked Kara.
There was no reply from the blackness.
Grant exclaimed in surprise.
“I’m such a fool!”
He delved into his pocket and came out with a Zippo lighter. He flicked it open and lit it in one smooth movement. The light flared, and they all recoiled, the bright light affecting them much more due to them being accustomed to the light.
“I always carry this with me,” Grant explained, as their eyesight returned. “You never know when you might need a flame.”
“It’s no use if you forget you have it, though, is it?” Derek smiled.
“Oh, get lost.” Grant shot back. “I thought of it eventually.”
Derek was about to spit something back, until he noticed the grin playing over Grant’s lips.
A quick scan of the room with the lighter confirmed their assumption that there were no other captives. They sat and made idle chat, but soon the conversation died away, leaving them only with the knowledge that all they could do is wait and see what was going to be done with them.
Time passed. It was impossible to tell whether it was ten minutes or two hours, but the door clicked open, revealing a white strip of light across the floor, highlighting the huddled four.
“One on the little one, two on the rest, quickly.”
Seven men, their features blackened by the light behind their heads, rushed into the room and grabbed the group. There was a struggle with most, but Derek gave up after the most perfunctory of fights, still partially drugged, and was dragged out quickest. As he left, he saw Grant, struggling on, eventually causing another guard to assist in taking him out. Derek, being dragged backward, watched a long, silver corridor extending into nothingness, the black uniforms of the goons clashing horribly. They reached a set of doors with meaningless serial numbers printed on them, and were thrown through.
The first thing that ran through his head was how pristine it was. It looked like a scientific facility rather than the den of a kidnapper. Derek looked around, and saw that Kara and the other captives weren’t there – he assumed they had gone through one of the other doors.
He was all alone in unfamiliar surroundings. He stood up, shakily, walked around the room, taking in every detail. There was a gurney in the middle, cold and unfeeling, no sheets dressing it. There was a small aluminium table next to it, with a drawer set into it. Derek rattled the handle; it was locked.
Casting his eyes around the room, he noticed that it was much smaller than it had first appeared. Across one wall was a full-length mirror, and dominating the room was a large conical structure, with two doors set into it. Neither had a handle, just a white square set into the metal next to each one, about the size of Derek’s palm. He placed his hand onto it, pressing gently. The panel glowed red for just a second, and beeped softly, somehow illuminating the whole room, reflecting off every surface, darkening the tone, filling him with a sense of dread.
He shivered, and stepped away from the console, watching the colour drain away from the walls, once again drawing into contrast the difference between his skin and the colour of the room. Bright, stark white, everywhere, almost strangling him.
This was worse than being in darkness. It was so clinical, so… emotionless. At least darkness could hide something. Here, it was all out in the open, blindly showing that there was no feeling there, nothing at all.
Derek made his way over to the mirror; cupping his hands against his face and peering into it, trying to see past his reflection to the people he was sure were watching him behind.
“Hello?”
No response.
“Let me out.”
Silence.
He smacked his fist against the glass.
“Let me OUT!”
No reply. Not a murmur, any indication that anyone cared.
He slid down the glass, slumping on the floor. It was no use. He would have to wait and see what these people wanted from him. It wouldn’t be the ransom money, he was sure about that – these people had a more sinister agenda, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
Derek held his head in his hands, and a tear trickled down his face.

Vengeance: A Fan Fiction

This is something I've been meaning to do for a while now, and I recently sat down and had a whole host of new ideas to use, so here goes.

A while back (I think it was 2002), on VGChat, a couple of us had a collaborative story, lead by one of the moderators there. Each of us played a certain part, and we took it in turns to advance the story, guided by the moderator. It was fun, but it never really finished. I took it upon myself to finish it, and recently picked it back up again (after massive revision). Enjoy the prologue.

Some of you might even guess what it's a fan fiction of.



Prologue

Derek awoke to commotion outside his window. Twisting himself out of his tangled sheets, he peered out into the cobbled street five storeys below. The shouting appeared to be coming from the alley at the base of his window, a girl’s voice louder than the gruffness of most of the yells.
Derek shut the window, and turned over, trying to get back to sleep. Here in Saffron City, it was somebody else’s problem. It was best not to get involved.

Down in the alley, a man clad in black checked off a box on a list, and barely murmured in appreciation of a job well done. Casting a trained eye over the alleyway behind him, he noticed – just for a brief moment – a light flicker and die in a fifth-storey window.
With nothing but a click of the fingers and a flick of the wrist, four men dressed identically in uniforms devoid of colour darted towards the doors of the apartment building, and swiftly sped up the stairs, making no noise despite their number and bulk.
The door was forced, making a sound like a gunshot in the night. Splintering wood flew across the room inside, closely followed by the four.
A bearded African man stood to their left, but he barely had time to utter a sound before he was gunned down by a sleeping blow-dart. His pupils contracted, his knees buckled, and didn’t even feel his head as it hit the tiles.
The group moved on, seemingly flowing over everything in sight – their goal assured.

Derek awoke again to an unfamiliar smell. His eyes took a moment to register what he was seeing. Squirming under the rag the stranger was holding, Derek found he could not move his arms or legs – they were being pinned by four burly men, absurdly dressed in some dark uniform.
Struggling, out of breath, he took another involuntary drag from the chloroform-soaked rag. His mind swimming, Derek passed out, and was not conscious to witness being dragged downstairs, or his brutal shoving into an unmarked black van, which drove into the inky night.

It's just not even funny.

available 24/7. for cooling.

*cough*

oh shitbollocks.

The monkey has no tail. Shall rectify that.

And Ben's just pointed out that you don't need to play an instrument to be in a band. Rock on!

and his dog.

"Just one question, why does every rock band have to have someone a member who is bald and has goatee, someone who is heavily tattooed and someone who is just so overtly hairy that the DNA tests must surely prove that he was born a Gorilla. It would be nice to have a band which included none of the above. Now that would be a rock group and a half. Their input might be a bit lacking but Jesus Christ they would rock almighty." ~Ben

...wow. Just imagine, all I need to do is shave my head and get that tattoo and I'm a one-man band!


...oh, and be able to play an instrument.

monkey trousers.

oh, almost forgot.

Current Wario Ware record - 80, with all gold crowns. Beat that, you donkey raper.

so many things...

...have happened to me today. Including, but not limited to, me not having to do any more work for the rest of the year, being accused of limiting Britain's manufacturing capabilities, and singing like Barry White.

Updates to come.

the father, the son, and the ultimate frisbee.

I haven't got a lot to say in this space, really, except that I've finally managed to get onto the computer for the first time in about a week. Got rid of most of the spyware and crap that's on it. Should work for the next few days.

Just checking in with you all. Hopefully a fuller post should be here by tomorrow.

read this, and shut up.

Yes, I now have a DS. Yes, it rocks. No, I don't give a shit what you think.

If I'm sat on a bus, all's quiet, and suddenly I start blowing on a silver box, just for a few seconds of entertainment, do you really think I'd do that if I cared what you think? All I care about is HAVING FUN. This is what my life is going to be like from here on out - dedicated to creating entertainment. Making things that other people enjoy, sharing what I think is fun with the world. If you're too narrow-minded not to appreciate that this gives me a high more than anything else I've found in my life, then God help you, because no-one else will.

This technology and everything to do with it fascinates me. I love how the industry is taking a new direction with the advent of new technology. In the 1970s, no-one dreamed that simulated table-tennis could be as good - if not better - than the real thing. Now we're on the brink of something just as revolutionary, and just as crucial - by the end of the year, there will be much less constraints than before in gaming. To look at it metaphorically, the actual ability to play table-tennis across the globe without air fare. You are actually CONTROLLING this bat. Not just pushing buttons to conditioned responses. You actually move the bat yourself, and interact. That's pretty goddamned special.

this whole thing fascinates me. I want to work on the divide between the casual and the core gamers. I want to come up with new genres and boundary-breaking software. I will BE THERE when this industry is turned on its head, and the true face in interactive entertainment reveals itself.

I watched Satoru Iwata's keynotes address at the GDC just now. In ten, twenty years, I'm going to be on my way there. One day, I'll be standing there, giving MY history, pushing the envelope even further.

This is my LIFE. My FUTURE. I AM going to be there, and all you can do is watch me.

i really should make MORE jokes...

Me: You know they're developing an injection that can change the taste of semen to whatever you want?
Lowri: Really? Wow! What flavours do they have?!
Me: So far, only salt and vinegar.

aw3som3n3ss.

I think I've finished my English coursework.

...this has got to be the biggest blag I've ever done. About 3000 words in the space of a night is quite impressive, I must say. Especially since it actually makes sense.


...I do still need to put in some aims and pad out my conclusion and introduction, though. And cut down some sections. At least I've got most of it done.


I can't believe I have ICT and Media to do as well... should be able to fit it all in. But I need DS time.


I feel like a fat bitch in a small box.

four the love of god...

Craig, during dinner:

"There was this guy on TV last night who ate foetuses!"

I subsequently stopped eating my cooked chicken.

five more days to go...

I'm not going to do a proper countdown. But my first post on any day that I do post will have some sort of number in it. Just for variety.

The full-length DS ad.

That's really only so that I can find it myself later. But I will say that Nintendo are ramping up their advertising really well. Now all they need to o is pay for EVERY CHANNEL TO BROADCAST IT AT THE SAME TIME - so if you'e watching TV, you'll see it. They really need to kick the PSP up the jacksie.

Speaking of which, I have it on a VERY RELIABLE SOURCE (ie, inside Eidos, who are developing a launch title for Europe) that there are problems with the PSP. Well, duh, we knew that. But apparently this could delay the European and US launches... could it be a fix for the battery life/square button fiasco/UMD cannon issues?

We'll find out soon enough, I guess.

talks.

This is from MSN - Trillian (which I have again) gives Wikipedia entries for stuff now.

[15:18] ::: five :::: A number of places are called Peel, including:

*Peel, Belgium
*Peel, Canada
*Peel, Isle of Man
*Region of Peel, Ontario

A region in the Netherlands:
*Peel, Netherlands

[15:18] ::: five :::: AWESOME
[15:18] ::: five :::: MY NAME IS TEMPLETON
[15:18] ::: five :::: Templeton may refer to:

In the United States:

* Templeton, Massachusetts
* Templeton, California
* Templeton, Iowa

In the United Kingdom:

* Templeton, Aberdeenshire
* Templeton, Angus
* Templeton, Devon
* Templeton, Pembrokeshire
* Templeton, South Ayrshire
* Templeton, West Berkshire
[15:18] ::: five :::: BEN ADAMS
[15:18] Currently 24-ing: Yes, maaster
[15:18] ::: five :::: Adams can refer to any of the following:
None Found.
[15:18] ::: five :::: AWESOME!

With omnipotence, comes great responsibility.

hilarious!

One week to go...

so yeah.

Tesco's shopping trolleys actually do have things on the wheels that stop them automatically if they go further than a certain point. Yay for them, I guess.

Games rawk. Wario Ware instils so much emotion, it's great. Monday night I was in GAME, ranting and raving up and down the shop because I equalled - not beat - Rick's score of 68. Doesn't help that you keep taunting me, you git.

thank the lord.

...for his wonderful bounties that he rains upon me.


OH WAIT THAT'S NOT RAIN