thank you, Jo
April 1, 2024. Officially my second day working on this practice neocity. Plan is to learn improvments on this one, while also using it just to record random thoughts which will in time get specialized cities, so my ultimate goal is for Shovel-Man to be obsolete in under a year. That or, once I know more and have done more, be completely reoworked and turned into a hub for all projects and ideas. Thinking on a smaller scale though, by April sixth I want to have an established and decent looking style, achived mobile viewing, and some finer details so this doesn't look so bad. Thinking computer terminal look of black and green(so might rethink gradiant background), but I might just be thinking that cause I'm sick at the moment and black and green is soft on my eyes. Who knows, lets just see what happens honestly, not get bogged down in thoughts. --Had to miss school today, sad
March 31, 2024. (100 wordish "poem" prompt,'Write a story about a ghost hunter who doesn't believe in ghosts -- until he gets stuck in a haunted mansion overnight.'): I saw a man the other day. His brow was smokey and gray. His nails were long and sharp. His voice was wailing art. | I saw the banshee on top the air. I could not believe that he was there. Yet he flew and moaned allowed. He never noticed that I was bowed. | Later then I cried all night. From facing fears and frights. He could not be and yet he was. He was the horror of Maukthras. | In the house clear hauntings did occur. I know this now to be sure. Please god save me. From the dead banshee. | --I'm so bad at poems lol
April 7, 2024. The news was bleak. Teow had gone the depressingly apocalyptic path of its predecessor home-worlds, and at almost half the time it had taken Jorae. At only thirty seven years the signs of Rot were beginning to appear in the outcroppings of civilization, signaling it was once again time to flee.
Our crafters, creators, the engineer's of society traveling at disproportionate speeds to preserve intelligence, were of course already working on the fifth destination. It's location not even yet known by them to ensure Rot did not spread via sabotage. It was, however, too soon. Even were the shuttles to me delayed as long as humanly possible, there was doubt Moeg would be ready in time.
Even more found themselves asking why to even bother. Rot had consumed Earth, and ever sense it seemed to cling to humanity like an infection.
No moving ceased its pursuit. No cleansing purged its hold. No cure could be made to combat its growth. And neither could the weapons of men harm moving poison. Rot is reckoning taken from, a meteor from God, a karma from Gaia, a sickness. Yet still we try, still we run. Further and further every time despite the diminishing results.
It seems as though our death will finally be met upon Moeg, or perhaps on route. Only twelve thousand engineers will remain, creating planets for the dead. Given time Rot will reach them too, carbon form developing near light speed just so that it might kill the last human adrift in space. It was not enough to live alone and as a failure, the scourge condemns you to die as such without chance of salvation.
I see around me the past playing out at heightened speed. Panic, unbridled and untamed, wrecking the streets of super-cities. There was lawlessness, there was death, there was anarchy already beginning to take form, and there was fear and suffering at what would eventually come. It had happened before. I had seen it before. This time was worse however, more extreme, for we were ever more aware of imminent doom.
I have already decided to let whatever happens, happen. To let the choir of screams outside go unanswered. To let murder, and thievery, go unpunished. And to let myself die, in isolation, surrounded only by damned billion's of similar fate, as Rot consumes life. I have already decided to go unsaved.
What more could I do? The news was bleak. --I wrote this at three in the morning
March 31, 2024. There is beauty in the pixelized picture, in the lowly rendered model, in the hyper realistic. Games have taken many forms in appearance over their history, many ways to present story and gameplay. The most beautiful way a game can be presented, however, has more to do with accessibility then design. We do not all poses silent machinery of top level performance. Some of us play only on home built machines with a sub 800 dollar cost, some of us lack even a graphics card, some fair even worse. It is a recognition of this which leads me to adore Valve, and more specifically, the Half-Life series. Even upon release they were ahead of the curve, and now over two decades later Half-Life 2 remains a perfect example of both high detail and high optimization. So many newer games I attempt are simply so slow, so unhelpfully constucted for lower cost technology, that now amount of altering setting could make them even semi playable. This is a failer. It should be recognized as such by both the professional and the indie. Perhaps one of these days I will be able to afford a graphics card, then I shall try out all the games which people rave on about. But untill then, or untill the common failer is at last rectified, I shall remain happily trapped in decades past. --I am mildly annoyed
March 31, 2024. Today I have asked those around me why, whilst sick, my eyes hurt. Not counting answers that were clearly meant to mess with me, they knew as little as I did, nothing. So from a simple search here are four potential answers to my original question. Let it be clear these are lowly reaserched, and unbacked. Sickness, such as a cold, can result in your body(eyes included) growing dry and tired, which leads to irritation. Our immune system is also much weaker whilst sick, leaving you and I open for eye infections, once again resulting in pain. Thirdly we should recognize that headaches are a common symptoms of illnesses, resulting in both eye, ear, and ect pain. And the final possibility of decent believability I found during my quick search is that when we are sick we can not as easily go outside, resulting in extended time on screens or in the presence of harsh lights. In all likely hood, the common pain we feel is the result of not any one, but a multitude of the options. --My eyes, they burn, ow
April 2, 2024. Name your enemy, why should an agent of evil deserve pleasant privacy? When you announce the crims commited upon humanity be bold, and speak not of an unknown "they," which hides in ambiguity the villain. A decleration must be selective and singular. Target not the company, the goverment, the class, the occupaton. Focused calls for action must instead pin-point the corrupt ceo, the war hungry senator, the deceitful lawyer. Name your enemy, so that all can cry for their downfall. --And yet I have not