#Observable-API

[beproblemsolver]

6 Methods to use page scroll animation

CSS animations are a key aspect of modern web design. Learn the top 6 methods of page scroll CSS animations to boost the user experience of your website.

Read More: https://beproblemsolver.com/6-methods-to-use-page-scroll-animation/

#AOS #Bootstrap 5 #CSS3 #HTML5 #Javascript #jQuery #Observable-API #Scroll-Reveal #Waypoint #Web Development #Wow.js #bootstrap #css #html

[worldgoit]

React Intersection Observer: Enhancing Web Development with Scroll-Based Interactions

origin: https://worldgoit.com/archives/posts/software-development/react-intersection-observer-enhancing-web-development-with-scroll-based-interactions/ Table of Contents

Introduction What is the Intersection Observer API? How does the Intersection Observer API work? Implementing the Intersection Observer API in React Benefits of using React Intersection Observer Examples of scroll-based interactions Best practices for using React Intersection Observer Conclusion FAQs

1. Introduction

In the ever-evolving world of web development, creating engaging and interactive user experiences is essential. One technique that has gained popularity is scroll-based interactions, where elements on a webpage respond or animate based on the user's scrolling behavior. To achieve this functionality efficiently in a React application, developers often turn to the React Intersection Observer library. This article will explore the ins and outs of the React Intersection Observer and how it can enhance web development.

2. What is the Intersection Observer API?

The Intersection Observer API is a browser API that allows developers to efficiently track and handle changes in the intersection of an element with its parent or the viewport. It provides a way to detect when an element becomes visible or hidden as the user scrolls the page. The Intersection Observer API is particularly useful for implementing scroll-based interactions, lazy loading of images, infinite scrolling, and other similar behaviors.

3. How does the Intersection Observer API work?

The Intersection Observer API works by creating an observer object that watches specified target elements. When the target element intersects with the viewport or its parent element, a callback function is triggered. This callback function can then be used to perform specific actions, such as adding CSS classes, animating elements, or loading additional content. The Intersection Observer API is designed to be performant and efficient. It uses a separate thread to observe elements and provides optimized methods for tracking intersections. This allows developers to create scroll-based interactions without impacting the overall performance and user experience of the website or application.

4. Implementing the Intersection Observer API in React

To leverage the power of the Intersection Observer API in a React application, developers often utilize the React Intersection Observer library. This library provides React components and hooks that simplify the integration of scroll-based interactions into React projects. To get started, you can install the React Intersection Observer library using npm or yarn: npm install react-intersection-observer # or yarn add react-intersection-observer Once installed, you can import the necessary components or hooks from the library and start using them in your React components. The library offers a range of options and configurations to customize the behavior of the Intersection Observer in your application.

  5. Benefits of using React Intersection Observer

Using React Intersection Observer in your web development projects offers several benefits: Improved performance: The Intersection Observer API is designed to be highly efficient, ensuring smooth scrolling and interactions without causing performance bottlenecks. Simplified implementation: React Intersection Observer provides intuitive components and hooks that abstract away the complexities of working directly with the Intersection Observer API. This makes it easier to implement scroll-based interactions in React applications. Browser compatibility: The React Intersection Observer library includes polyfills to ensure compatibility with older browsers that may not support the Intersection Observer API natively. Flexibility and customization: The library offers various configuration options, allowing developers to fine-tune the behavior of the Intersection Observer based on their specific requirements.

6. Examples of scroll-based interactions

Scroll-based interactions can significantly enhance user engagement and create memorable experiences on websites. Here are a few examples of what can be achieved using React Intersection Observer: Example 1: Animated elements With React Intersection Observer, you can animate elements as they come into view. For instance, you can fade in text or images, slide in sections, or apply creative animations to catch the user's attention. Example 2: Infinite scrolling Implementing infinite scrolling becomes straightforward with React Intersection Observer. As the user scrolls to the bottom of a page, you can dynamically load more content, providing a seamless browsing experience. Example 3: Lazy loading of images Loading images only when they enter the viewport is a common optimization technique. React Intersection Observer simplifies this process, ensuring that images are loaded precisely when they are needed, reducing unnecessary network requests.

7. Best practices for using React Intersection Observer

To make the most out of React Intersection Observer, consider the following best practices: Fine-tune threshold values: Experiment with different threshold values to trigger the intersection callback at the desired scroll positions. Debounce expensive operations: If the intersection callback involves expensive operations, debounce them to avoid performance issues caused by rapid scroll events. Optimize for mobile: Take into account the smaller screen sizes and touch interactions when designing scroll-based interactions for mobile devices. Test across browsers and devices: Ensure that your scroll-based interactions work smoothly across different browsers and devices to provide a consistent user experience.

8. Conclusion

React Intersection Observer opens up a world of possibilities for creating engaging scroll-based interactions in React applications. By leveraging the power of the Intersection Observer API, developers can enhance user experiences, improve performance, and create visually stunning effects. With the React Intersection Observer library, implementing these interactions becomes more accessible and intuitive, allowing developers to focus on crafting unique and interactive websites.

FAQs

Q1: Can I use React Intersection Observer with other JavaScript frameworks? Yes, React Intersection Observer can be used alongside other JavaScript frameworks or libraries. It provides React components and hooks that can be integrated seamlessly into different project setups. Q2: Is the Intersection Observer API supported in all browsers? The Intersection Observer API is supported in most modern browsers. However, for older browsers, the React Intersection Observer library includes polyfills to ensure compatibility. Q3: Are there any performance considerations when using React Intersection Observer? React Intersection Observer is designed to be efficient and optimized for performance. However, it's essential to fine-tune your scroll-based interactions and avoid costly operations within the intersection callback to maintain smooth performance. Q4: Can I customize the appearance and behavior of elements with React Intersection Observer? Yes, React Intersection Observer allows you to customize the appearance and behavior of elements as they intersect with the viewport or parent element. You can apply CSS classes, animations, or any other desired effect. Q5: Is React Intersection Observer suitable for mobile web development? Absolutely! React Intersection Observer is well-suited for mobile web development. However, when designing scroll-based interactions for mobile devices, it's crucial to consider smaller screen sizes and touch interactions for optimal user experiences. Read the full article

#API #javascript #library #npm #Observer #React #React.js #scroll #yarn

[fomokun]

In a show of protest, Reddit users are participating in a site-wide blackout due to recent changes, particularly a significant increase in the price of API calls, which are connections between Reddit and third-party applications. Previously costing developers only a few dollars for 50 million API calls, the price has now surged to a staggering $12,000. This surge has led to the closure of many apps designed to enhance the user experience. To amplify their message and disrupt website traffic, thousands of subreddits are observing a self-imposed blackout, prohibiting new posts for a few days. @Fomokun の #DailyCompanion #NFT #IP #IP4 #IP4everyone #Web5 ( #Web3 + #Web2 )

#In a show of protest #Reddit users are participating in a site-wide blackout due to recent changes #particularly a significant increase in the price of API calls #which are connections between Reddit and third-party applications. Previously costing developers only a few dollars for 50 million API call #the price has now surged to a staggering $12 #000. This surge has led to the closure of many apps designed to enhance the user experience. To amplify their message and disrupt website tr #thousands of subreddits are observing a self-imposed blackout #prohibiting new posts for a few days. @Fomokun の DailyCompanion NFT IP IP4 IP4everyone Web5 ( Web3 + Web2 )

[civildisorderstream]

2023, The Year of Self-Sabotage

Has anyone noticed the trend businesses have been on in 2023? There's a LOT of self-sabotage going on in the business world. Throughout my life, and everyone else has their own observations too, once in a while you see a company make a boneheaded decision about their product or service. And once in a while you'll see a decision get made that is bad, but maybe it at least has some justification (even to an anti-capitalist goober like myself). But this year has been nonsensical moves of greed or product/service sabotage that make no sense for longevity or harm what's in the best interest of the consumer.

Activision-Blizzard: The Overwatch debacle, and Diablo Immortal's scummy practices.

Netflix: The account sharing debacle.

Twitter: Maximum divorced loser Elon Musk destroying its functionality and branding and we still call it Twitter.

Reddit: Inspired by Musk's stupidity, the API tools debacle. Shame on the Reddit communities for not knowing how to strike btw (you don't put a time limit on it).

Hollywood: Pulling shows and films from streaming services to declare them as failed products and somehow get a tax write-off for it.

Also Hollywood: Willing to take quarterly losses greater than the annual cost to meet the demands of two striking unions put together.

Unity: Announced in the past day that it will charge developers a fee for installations because greed.

Titan Submersible: "Safety is for losers" says billionaire who proceeds to use his shoddy tech to do a murder-suicide.

Starbucks: Breaking ALL of the labor laws to try and stop unionization. Admittedly a reach to be on this list but the situation (like all the others) is ongoing and can compound.

Embracer: A massive corporate company that bought a bunch of smaller companies. Thought a 2 billion dollar deal with the Saudi government was a sure thing, so they spent 2 billion dollars on stuff. Deal falls through, so they start closing companies they acquired.

That's just the ones I can remember off the top of my head. These aren't business decisions done for the sake of consumers. These are all decisions done to spite consumers or the workers who produce the products and services.

People try to remember years as being the "year of" something. And it's a thing I do too. For me, 2023 is the year of corporate self-sabotage.

#activision blizzard #elon musk #unity #embracer #politics #reddit #capitalism #twitter

[qwertycod-programming]

#Intersection Observer #Intersection Observer API #lazy-loading images #lazy-loading

[beaulesbian]

I've started going through some of the fillers now that I'm caught up with the main manga story, and this first one about the dragon and lost island (eps 54-60) is pretty interesting - especially how Luffy could hear the dragon's thoughts, (in a way it reminded me of him hearing Zunesha on Zou, though it is different)

and how Zoro could pretty quickly tell when someone dangerous was nearby (with a sense that seems very similar to observation haki 🤔)

but also this fun zolu part:

I've seen it in some clips or screenshots before (gifs and screenshots really don't do justice to the amazing voice acting here lol "Zoorooooooooooooooo") but I haven't seen it with the context of this Apis girl being worried about Zoro before, (who stayed behind to let the crew get away with the dragon, and they managed that, and her concern made Luffy search out for Zoro to get him back to their ship. (Thankfully, because otherwise he would have totally get so lost on that small island)

and even in one scene before this clip she was worried if Zoro was going to be alright - and Luffy could reassure her with his absolute certainty that Zoro would be just fine.

It's pretty fun how this scenario repeats all the way thoughout the story (with at least two very similar scenes being in Dressrosa) where other people question if Zoro would be fine and Luffy has the full trust in his capabilites and strength.

#just them #one piece #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #zolu #luzo #one piece ep 58 #mine #gif:zolu #gif:op anime #long post #its so early on in the story.. and yet #1000+ chapters later (and in canon material) and some things never change ;-; #only thing that changed was the fact that zoro willingly let himself get tossed around by luffy on wano. and that's character development!

[kachowder]

It's almost valentine's day and I'm a sucker for valentine's day cliches in anime. So, how would each of your boys react if they see their darling giving everyone they know chocolates (it's obligatory, but they don't know that) and they didn't get one? Only for darling to give them a special chocolate of their own at the end of the day.

Fantastic ask. Wonderful. This will be a two part series cuz I have more ocs than I first thought <3

Valentines Special <3 part 1

(Characters Chata, Apis, Alan, Cameron)

Tw: Suggestive Themes, Toxic Jealousy.

———————

Chata (yandere Spider Lizard Demon)

Chata believes he’s fairly good at hiding his own feelings at times

Mostly due to the alcohol

But this would sting a bit.

Yellow eyes watched as you chattered around the bar. Handing sweets bags wrapped with pretty pink bows to your various coworkers and regular customers.

You wore a cute pink themed getup that suited you in a doll like way. You seemed to like this particular holiday quite a lot.

In the past chata felt the same really. It was scoring season, what with all the heartbreak that happened on this lovely day.

But he couldn’t find himself to humor the broken hearted individuals of the bar. Not when he was watching you warmly pass along chocolates to everyone but him.

Letting them hug you, and hold you, and feel the warmth that so soothingly kissed his scales.

It was insulting. He didn’t like being attached but he thought you liked him. At least a little. You were his favorite person. But he supposed he shouldn’t have assumed that he was yours.

That acknowledgment made him feel colder than usual. The quils on his spine raising and rattling threateningly, warding off any hot shots from sitting next to the aggravated beast.

Finding himself lost in his own irritation, he failed to notice the sound of feet walking over to him, before a sweets box, in the shape of a flame slid into his view on the counter.

His quils shot down, flat against his back as his eyes snapped to you.

A lecherous grin curled onto his face. Tongue lapping at the sudden drool that began to drip from his jaw.

You smelled awfully sweet today.

“Oh? This for me doll~?”

As if he was never upset in the first place, two sets of arms curled around your figure and smother you to his chest, easily lifting you as he stood from his bar stool and began marching up the stairs of the bar, into the staff room.

“You shouldn’t have~ I guess I should give you your valentines gift now huh?<3”

He didn’t acknowledge your muffled complaints about you still being on the clock as the door slammed shut.

Cameron (Yandere Therapist)

This is borderline devastating.

You had invited Cameron, your therapist, who you had been having regular hang outs with outside of sessions to a dinner party at your college campus with the school faculty. As your plus one.

Cameron was thrilled, naturally. Any chance to observe you in a non threatening and social environment was like being handed a bucket of gold.

Plus, it was like he was your date. Especially with the matching red outfits you both wore

He made sure to keep his shirt unbuttoned just enough to keep your imagination roaming.

Though his joy didn’t last long when he started watching you hand out goody bags to your colleagues.

While he remained glued to your side, arm respectfully linked with yours, his smile grew tighter with each group he greeted, before it fell completely at the sight of you gifting a bag to your ex. Of all people.

You’d mentioned them once in passing, having nothing but good things to say and even mentioning that it was mutual break up.

Cameron didn’t care though. No one in their right mind would ever willingly let you go. Not truly anyway. And he felt satisfied and deeply angered when his thoughts were confirmed as he watched the way your ex softly blushed while speaking you.

The arm that was intertwined with yours snaked it’s way subtly around your waist, Cameron leaning slightly into you as if to play off being tired, though he relished in your sweet stutter and your exes furrowed brows.

When they finally parted from you, Cameron gently pulled you in the direction of an empty table, sitting you down gently while pushing your chair in before taking a seat of his own.

He shuddered and flushed deeply when he caught your eyes peak down his shirt.

Did you see what he was wearing underneath? God he hoped you did.

Though, not one to let his excitement show in such a public setting, Cameron cleared his throat before bringing your attention to a small velvet covered box.

You gasped softly at the sight and Cameron couldn’t help but to smile as he removed his glasses.

“Happy Valentines Day Darling. Consider this a small anniversary gift since the start of our sessions. You’ve grown beautifully”

With careful hands you opened the pretty box, gasping loudly this time at the sight of a pretty rose gold necklace with your name engraved on a cute heart lock charm.

“Oh Cameron..you shouldn’t have”

Cameron gently pushed back a stray hair from your warm cheeks before humming softly when you took his hand and gently kissed his knuckles, whispering a soft thank you that had his heart thudding violently in his chest.

He was sure he looked like a blushing fool when you presented a a box, much like his own though in a satin red, and popped it open to reveal a necklace of his own, with a sweet little pair of angels wings attached

“ I feel a little less embarrassed giving this to you now. Consider it a thank you. For taking care of me and helping me with my problems.”

The darling smile you sent to him lit his skin on fire, and he couldn’t help himself but to return the kiss to your beautiful hands, though his own lingered a little longer.

“Of course darling. I’d do anything you asked of me.”

Suck it Ex.

Alan (Mean Inter-dimensional Yandere)

Alan hated Valentine’s Day. As he hated most days.

He was already on the stingier side, so a holiday where you spent money on someone else, to show your “love” for them, really wasn’t his forte.

Though, the idea of giving you, the shy one specifically, a box of chocolates, or better yet, a stuffed animal, was deathly appealing.

He could practically see your cute face twisting in embarrassment and excitement. The way your hands would carefully but shakily hold his gift to your chest, and the way your pretty eyes would stare up at him. And the feeling of your cute sweet lips pressing against his-

“Gee, thanks kid. I didn’t think I’d be getting chocolates today. I appreciate it though.”

“Yeah- uhm. No problem. Just a thank you gift. And stuff.”

What the fuck.

Alan practically felt himself boiling when he turned to watch you chatting with his boss of all people. Giving him a box of chocolates.

Where the fuck were your loyalties huh?

I mean yeah sure Alan wasn’t the most approachable or the nices guy in the world, but give his boss chocolates, and not himself?

He didn’t think you had that in you.

And he would’ve found it hot, had it been anyway but him on the short end of the stick.

So while he mulled in his own fizzling jealousy, not that he’d call it that, he nearly growled when you came tiptoeing over, a lunch box wrapped gently in a red checkered cloth clutched in your hands.

“Uhm…Alan?”

“What do you want?” He didn’t really mean to snap, and yeah he felt bad when your shoulders cowered a little, but he had to admit he impressed that you hadn’t burst in to tears and immediately run off at his dismissive tone.

He was relieved.

Alan watched with narrowed eyes as you set the lunch box on his desk.

He eyed it, then you, then it again, before finally setting it back on you and opening the box. Revealing a set of 6 sweet smelling cookies. Homemade.

“What is this?”

You winced slightly, fingers clenching and unclenching nervously before you took a deep breath.

“Thank you for taking care of me and being nice to me even though I know you don’t like me that much but I still appreciate you looking out for me happy Valentine’s Day- bye!”

Wide eyed watched in shock and awe as you immediately scurried out of the clinic. Into the closet.

A deep chuckle filled the room.

“Never thought I’d see you blushin mate.”

Alan’s eyes snapped over to the overgrown lizard demon, and the other you who eyed him curiously.

He scowled slightly. That meant you were gone.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear anything from a walking disease.” He sneered at the two of you, and the other you scowled before marching off down the corridor, mumbling a small rude in his direction while chata laughed it off.

Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad.

Apis (yandere Bull Demon)

Apis was already a lot of work to deal with on most days.

While he was helpful, he was also the most clingy being you’d ever come across.

It was hard to concentrate when there was a 7ft bull pressed against your back and sending various messages to your head via his weird, telepathy.

It was even harder when, today, Valentine’s Day, Apis seemed to be 100x clingier.

There was a permeant flush that slapped itself across his bull like features, and with every step the demon was practically tripping you with how close he was.

His tail flicked back and forth almost agitatedly.

“Look buddy I don’t know what you want right now. Can’t you just tell me?”

There was a deep whine that rumbled through the demons chest before he pressed himself further into, shoving you onto the couch and placing himself in your much smaller lap.

Your face was practically being suffocated in his obscenely large chest and the bull demon seemed to purr at that fact, especially with the way he shifted himself a bit.

“Apis! I don’t know what you want dude!”

A sudden growl poked through the moody beast, before several images struck through your head.

Roses, chocolates, hearts, arrows.

Ah.

“Oh. It’s Valentine’s Day isn’t it?”

The demon mooed in response, pressing himself even further into you, though mindful enough to make sure you could still breathe.

You sighed tiredly, before reaching your arm under one of the throw pillows and pulling out a box of chocolates.

“Here you go. I was gonna get you the same ones I gave all my coworkers yesterday but these were on sale. Plus you’ve been good lately so I-“

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before you were suddenly lifted off the couch, the chocolates cluttering to the floor before you were swept and up and the sound of thundering hooves filled the room.

“Whoa buddy hey wait- whyre we going to the bedroom- Apis no! Put me down! Bad!”

The Blissful bull ignored you, humming happily once he tossed you to the bed and slammed the door shut.

You could already see the by product of his excitement.

“Don’t worry Y/n. I’ll take good care of you <3”

Your jaw dropped.

“YOU CAN FUCKEN TALK??”

#yandere #yandere x reader #x oc #demon x reader #x reader #monster #monster x reader #yandere therapist #yandere teratophilia #Cameron oc #chata oc #Apis oc #Alan oc

[talonabraxas]

The Solar Trinity The sun, as supreme among the celestial bodies visible to the astronomers of antiquity, was assigned to the highest of the gods and became symbolic of the supreme authority of the Creator Himself. From a deep philosophic consideration of the powers and principles of the sun has come the concept of the Trinity as it is understood in the world today. The tenet of a Triune Divinity is not peculiar to Christian or Mosaic theology, but forms a conspicuous part of the dogma of the greatest religions of both ancient and modern times. The Persians, Hindus, Babylonians, and Egyptians had their Trinities. In every instance these represented the threefold form of one Supreme Intelligence. In modern Masonry, the Deity is symbolized by an equilateral triangle, its three sides representing the primary manifestations of the Eternal One who is Himself represented as a tiny flame, called by the Hebrews Yod (י). Jakob Böhme, the Teutonic mystic, calls the Trinity The Three Witnesses, by means of which the Invisible is made known to the visible, tangible universe.

The origin of the Trinity is obvious to anyone who will observe the daily manifestations of the sun. This orb, being the symbol of all Light, has three distinct phases: rising, midday, and setting. The philosophers therefore divided the life of all things into three distinct parts: growth, maturity, and decay. Between the twilight of dawn and the twilight of evening is the high noon of resplendent glory. God the Father, the Creator of the world, is symbolized by the dawn. His color is blue, because the sun rising in the morning is veiled in blue mist. God the Son he Illuminating One sent to bear witness of His Father before all the worlds, is the celestial globe at noonday, radiant and magnificent, the maned Lion of Judah, the Golden-haired Savior of the World. Yellow is His color and His power is without end. God the Holy Ghost is the sunset phase, when the orb of day, robed in flaming red, rests for a moment upon the horizon line and then vanishes into the darkness of the night to wandering the lower worlds and later rise again triumphant from the embrace of darkness.

To the Egyptians the sun was the symbol of immortality, for, while it died each night, it rose again with each ensuing dawn. Not only has the sun this diurnal activity, but it also has its annual pilgrimage, during which time it passes successively through the twelve celestial houses of the heavens, remaining in each for thirty days. Added to these it has a third path of travel, which is called the precession of the equinoxes, in which it retrogrades around the zodiac through the twelve signs at the rate of one degree every seventy-two years.

Concerning the annual passage of the sun through the twelve houses of the heavens, Robert Hewitt Brown, 32°, makes the following statement: "The Sun, as he pursued his way among these 'living creatures' of the zodiac, was said, in allegorical language, either to assume the nature of or to triumph over the sign he entered. The sun thus became a Bull in Taurus, and was worshipped as such by the Egyptians under the name of Apis, and by the Assyrians as Bel, Baal, or Bul. In Leo the sun became a Lion-slayer, Hercules, and an Archer in Sagittarius. In Pisces, the Fishes, he was a fish--Dagon, or Vishnu, the fish-god of the Philistines and Hindoos."

A careful analysis of the religious systems of pagandom uncovers much evidence of the fact that its priests served the solar energy and that their Supreme Deity was in every case this Divine Light personified. Godfrey Higgins, after thirty years of inquiry into the origin of religious beliefs, is of the opinion that "All the Gods of antiquity resolved themselves into the solar fire, sometimes itself as God, or sometimes an emblem or shekinah of that higher principle, known by the name of the creative Being or God."

The Egyptian priests in many of their ceremonies wore the skins of lions, which were symbols of the solar orb, owing to the fact that the sun is exalted, dignified, and most fortunately placed in the constellation of Leo, which he rules and which was at one time the keystone of the celestial arch. Again, Hercules is the Solar Deity, for as this mighty hunter performed his twelve labors, so the sun, in traversing the twelve houses of the zodiacal band, performs during his pilgrimage twelve essential and benevolent labors for the human race and for Nature in general, Hercules, like the Egyptian priests, wore the skin of a lion for a girdle. Samson, the Hebrew hero, as his name implies, is also a solar deity. His fight with the Nubian lion, his battles with the Philistines, who represent the Powers of Darkness, and his memorable feat of carrying off the gates of Gaza, all refer to aspects of solar activity. Many of the ancient peoples had more than one solar deity; in fact, all of the gods and goddesses were supposed to partake, in part at least, of the sun's effulgence.

The golden ornaments used by the priestcraft of the various world religions are again a subtle reference to the solar energy, as are also the crowns of kings. In ancient times, crowns had a number of points extending outward like the rays of the sun, but modern conventionalism has, in many cases, either removed the points or else bent: them inward, gathered them together, and placed an orb or cross upon the point where they meet. Many of the ancient prophets, philosophers, and dignitaries carried a scepter, the upper end of which bore a representation of the solar globe surrounded by emanating rays. All the kingdoms of earth were but copies of the kingdoms of Heaven, and the kingdoms of Heaven were best symbolized by the solar kingdom, in which the sun was the supreme ruler, the planets his privy council, and all Nature the subjects of his empire.

Many deities have been associated with the sun. The Greeks believed that Apollo, Bacchus, Dionysos, Sabazius, Hercules, Jason, Ulysses, Zeus, Uranus, and Vulcan partook of either the visible or invisible attributes of the sun. The Norwegians regarded Balder the Beautiful as a solar deity, and Odin is often connected with the celestial orb, especially because of his one eye. Among the Egyptians, Osiris, Ra, Anubis, Hermes, and even the mysterious Ammon himself had points of resemblance with the solar disc. Isis was the mother of the sun, and even Typhon, the Destroyer, was supposed to be a form of solar energy. The Egyptian sun myth finally centered around the person of a mysterious deity called Serapis. The two Central American deities, Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl, while often associated with the winds, were also undoubtedly solar gods.

In Masonry the sun has many symbols. One expression of the solar energy is Solomon, whose name SOL-OM-ON is the name for the Supreme Light in three different languages. Hiram Abiff, the CHiram (Hiram) of the Chaldees, is also a solar deity, and the story of his attack and murder by the Ruffians, with its solar interpretation, will be found in the chapter The Hiramic Legend. A striking example of the important part which the sun plays in the symbols and rituals of Freemasonry is given by George Oliver, D.D., in his Dictionary of Symbolical Masonry, as follows:

"The sun rises in the east, and in the east is the place for the Worshipful Master. As the sun is the source of all light and warmth, so should the Worshipful Master enliven and warm the brethren to their work. Among the ancient Egyptians the sun was the symbol of divine providence." The hierophants of the Mysteries were adorned with many. insignia emblematic of solar power. The sunbursts of gilt embroidery on the back of the vestments of the Catholic priesthood signify that the priest is also an emissary and representative of Sol Invictus. --Secret Teachings of All Ages: The Sun, A Universal Deity

[mentalisttraceur-software]

It really is very frustrating to try to use Tumblr through the API, because:

First you have to Register An App, even though I am a user, I am trying to just automate some workflows, I am not an App Developer making a third-party integration for others.

Then you must use OAuth. Having an API where the only authentication mechanism is OAuth should be a crime. OAuth is an okay solution for letting third-party code get credentials on behalf of users with user consent. But I am not third-party code!!! I am me, the user; my code is an extension of me, it is me, alkfsdafklsdalfsalf!

Randomly things will just fail to post. You will be told the profoundly helpful status 400, code 8001, which if we go by observation alone are the only possible numbers, and mean any possible error. "Posting failed. Please try again." Incidentally, if you are ever responsible for a "Please try again" error message for something that is not a transient error but will persistently reliably fail, we need to break out the medieval corporal punishments. Flogging. Stocks. Those little cages on street posts. And responsibility goes up the chain of command - the higher the position, the longer the punishment.

This. This will be the thing that finally drives me off Tumblr. No amount of adoring Tumblr fans will keep me if I can't reliably publish posts from the comfort of my text editor.

#api design #software #tumblr api #oauth

[vanillaxoshi]

So today is White day and I written a count as a continuation of the Valentine day fic I write before .

So ......enjoy !

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White Day is celebrated annually on March 14, one month after Valentine's Day, when people give reciprocal gifts to those who gave them gifts on Valentine's Day. It began in Japan in 1978; its observance has spread to several other Asian nations and countries worldwide .

...... In short , it's a day to return gifts to the person who gives you gifts on the Valentine's Day.

It's not that hard ! ....... Right? .

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A day before white day

"......"

"Cahaya?  "

" What are you doing ?"

" Ah !- would you knock frist Angin?!?!  "

Angin watch Cahaya hide the papers under his arms on his table .

" Well, the others are looking for you . How long have you been inside the bed room ? "

"Not your business. "

" Wow touchy-"

"......."

".......Don't you dare-"

" To late ! "

Angin snatch one of the paper from Cahaya.

"Hey !! Give that back- "

" And don't you dare read it ! "

"Nope !! I want to see what kind of research is this- wait? What? "

Angin give the paper a quick look while Cahaya bury his face groaning in embarrassment.

"  'The best way to give a gift on white day ' , ' The best gift that I can think of ' , 'How to give out the gift . '      "

" Angin, please don't read it out ! It's embarrassing! And give back my paper now! "

" ......Did someone give you a gift on the Valentine's Day last month? "

" Well,  yes !  It's wasn't only you guys have resive gifts on that day! "

"......"

" Angin? "

" Wait I know that look. Angin don't you dare! - "

Angin rush out the room before Cahaya could stop him.

" Guys ! Cahaya is planning to give someone a gift on the White day!!!!!!!! " (＃°Д°)0

All the siblings appears near the bed room .

" Wait what ?!?!? "  w(ﾟДﾟ)w

" ANGIN!!! STOP !!! ヽ( ≧Д≦)ノ 💢 "

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

" Aww I didn't know your have receive a gift on Valentine's Day day before ! That's cute !!!! "

" So you have a admirer now ,eh ?

" How come you didn't told us before ? "

" ......"

" Pipe down everyone , you guys can see how uncomfortable Cahaya is . Give him some space ."

" ......So you want to pick a gift for that person am I right ? "

Now all the siblings are surrounding Cahaya discussing while Cahaya glare at Angin with the look " You're so dead later ."

" Sorry , Haya ."   ...( - _ -||| )

" Alright , you guys leave me alone ! I want to do it myself ! Don't butt in ! "

" But Haya , you obviously struggling on what kind of gift that you want to chose ."

" You even write a bunch of analyzing essay for what kind of gift is the best ! "

" Tomorrow is white day already ! And you still didn't make up your mind yet ! "

" ......Then what are you guys going to suggest ? "

" Oh! Oh ! Me first ! You can give them flowers that have hidden message in it ! Yellow tulips and pink roses for an example ! It's mean thank you and gratitude ! "

" Or you could write a letter for them ! Since you sucks at saying directly , write it all down it will be more easy ! "

" Api that's kinda mean . "

"But it's true that Haya have a hard time on that , form me I'll advice you just give white chocolate to them , nothing fancy ."

" Or maybe handmade cookies ! It's better than giving packed food ! "

" I'll advice a plushy ."

" Well , form me . I'll just give something what the person need or wanted in that moment , although I will pack it nicely as a gift ."

" So what do you think Haya ,can those advice help you ?"

" I'll take those as a reference and I want you guys give me some space now . "

" Alright we'll leave you alone for that ."

" That make me curious- Haya who give you-"

" ALL RIGHT EVERYONE YOUR ADIK NEED SOME SPACE NOW SO PLEASE GET OUT THE ROOM NOW "

Cahaya push all his Abang out of the room and shut the door . 

"......."(。_。)

"......"(⊙ˍ⊙)

"......"(⊙_⊙)？

"......'OwO

"......"( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

"......."( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°)

" So- "

" No "

" GIve him have some privacy ."

"But- Don't you guys curious ? "

"......."

All Abangs are curious about the person who's going to receive Cahaya's gift .

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"This is agent Api ,Cahaya is still remain unmoved , no sign of taking action ." 

" Copy that Agent Api , no sign of anyone that could be Cahaya's receiver ."

" Copy that Agent Daun , Agent Api keep-"

" What are you guys doing ? "

" AHHH ! "

" Tanah you scared me ! Don't just pop out of nowhere ! "

Angin pout at Tanah who just come in the classroom .

" I heard that , three of you let Cahaya be . It's part of his life we don't want to mess with that ."

Tanah points at Angin's watch voice calling .

" Isn't this Gopal 's and Yaya's number ?"

" Are you two using their watch ?"

" I don't know why I even agreed to help ." (-__- )

" Same here Gopal ." (- _ - ||| )

" But Petir don't you curious ??? The lucky girl that Cahaya spend time to pick gift to might have a chance become our sister-in-law ? "

" I also want to see what kind of person are she that make Cahaya have to make analyzing essay for ! "

" Psss !! Agent Angin!!! Cahaya is heading to the libary now and he is preparing the 'things that seems like a gift ' out of his bag now ! " (≧∇≦)ﾉ

" Really ? I'm heading there now ! "

" Oh ! Oh ! I see flowers ! It's look like Purple hibiscus ? " ˋ( ° ▽、° ) 

" Yeah that's purple hibiscus , Daun ."

" I'm coming now ! "

" Wait Angin-"

" I'm coming with you guys ."

" Wait Pertir ?" (⊙ˍ⊙)

" I'm also curious , Tanah ."

"......Fine , Just don't let Cahaya notice us ." ¬_¬

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" Hey move over a bit Gopal ! Don't you say you don't want to drag inside this ? "

" I change my mind now , there's so very good black mail stuff ."

" Gopal don't you dare ! "

" Shhhh ! Pipe down ! "

The ori trio , Daun , Api and Gopal and Ying hiding behind the book self .

" Cahaya have been sitting there for a while now , who's he waiting ? "

" I don't know but too bad Air didn't-"

" Hi guys ."

" Air-"

" Don't talk , I'm also want to see who is it ."

" Wait , Cahaya is hiding the gifts now . It must be hiding from the- wait is that Fang ????????"

Everyone look at Cahaya who is hiding the gifts behind him while Fang is walking closer to Cahaya's table .

" Wait so the one that Cahaya spend time on that essay- "

" Is Fang ??????? "

" Wait maybe it wasn't him it someone else-"

" But there's no one that come in the library besides Fang- Wait they are talking now ! "

"What are they saying I can't hear it !"

"AVFFDGYGABKL HAYA IS GIVING THE GIFTS TO HIM !!!! "

" It's carrot cookies and donut with a letter with purple hibiscus !!! "

" Why I hear buzzing sounds- OMG ! Petir clam down ! "

".......I want to talk with him ."

" Tanah not you too ! "（0 □ 0|||) ﾉﾉ

.

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" So happy white day , Fang ."

" Oh ? Thanks ? "

" Incase you didn't know White day is a day for the people that have- "

" No I know , I just didn't expect that you have prepare something for me ."

" Well it was my first time receive something on Valentine's day so I want you to take it ."

" Thanks I'll cherish it- Hm- ?"

" Haya do you smell something is burning ? "

*sniff *sniff 

" I do , strange- "

"Oh it's Pertir and Tanah-

" Wait why Petir taking out the lightning- "

" OH SHOOT ! RUN FANG !!! "

" HMMM ?????"

Cahaya drag Fang out runs out the library.

" Come back here ! "

" We just want to talk~ "

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.

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Hours later .......

Tok Aba is scolding Tanah and Petir being mean toward Fang while Fang is hiding at the corner looking a bit traumatize and Cahaya is comforting him along with the others .

Petir. tanah. Leave them alone >:(

Sibs and their curiosity, u'll never stop them

Yall better stop with that protectiveness, imma pounce at you for eavesdropping and shiz!!

Yeah this reply aint on white day but overall another cute story😊 really indulging more the solfang relationship arent'cha??

#xoshi answers #xoshi asks #platonic solfang #solfang #zi lins scenarios

[bananonbinary]

Bee person dropping in to divulge some of the Secret Lore - there's about 20000 bee species, most of which (~85%) are solitary, meaning they live their entire life on their own. Most of these species are far less aggressive and territorial since it doesn't pay off for them to die in defense of their nest if they can just make a new one instead and still have at least a couple offspring. They're also much more vulnerable to the negative effects of climate change, pesticides, and loss of floral resources and habitats than a lot of social bees because they don't have a bunch of siblings to do teamwork with, so if the going gets tough for them, they have to go it alone - so they're especially dependent on us getting our shit together.

On a less depressing note, for anyone who wants to see some cool pictures of non-honeybee-looking bees, look up orchid bees, blood bees, carpenter bees, mason bees, mining bees, leafcutter bees, fairy bees, masked bees, sweat bees, digger bees, ... Not all of these are solitary, but they're all rad as hell. (The males often have quite fancy facial hair/markings too!)

In terms of that bumblebee, it depends - bumblebee colonies are quite small compared to what people will expect given the usual reference of comparatively giant honeybee hives (most bumblebee colonies don't tend to go above ~300 members) and their life histories are also quite different, as bumblebee colonies aren't perennial - young queens emerge from their winter diapause (a type of hibernation) in early spring, found their nests and rear the first workers, who then take over many of the tasks in the colony (such as foraging and brood care) until late summer, when they switch from rearing workers to new queens and males, who then get out and mate. The males and workers eventually die in fall, while the newly mated young queens find a cozy spot to while away the winter (usually underground, but pretty close to the surface, so don't clean up your green spaces too much and be gentle) to start the cycle again the next year. While isolation can have some negative effects on social bees like bumblebees, the severity of these effects depends on a lot of factors. Bumblebees, in my experience, are pretty tough though - for example, they can cope very well with randomly being dropped into an entirely new colony, which I know I certainly couldn't (I can barely handle phone calls on a good day). So long as they're given ample access to sugar water, they can live pretty long lives (for bees, anyway). If you find a flightless one, taking care of it is definitely the better alternative though. Keep them in a clean box (you can put a tissue on the bottom for easy cleaning/changing) in the shade for most of the day, at consistent room temperatures, give them sugar water and occasionally some flowers and they'll be fine. Just be careful as they can (and will) still sting in self-defense.

However, there actually are also stingless bees (Meliponini - more then 500 species worldwide) - they're another really cool group to look up. Like bumblebees and honeybees they are also social bess, and (like bumblebees) they build crazy cool nests. They're also the only group of bees that can produce honey outside of the honeybess (genus Apis - only 9 species worldwide) and can be found all over the world (the Americas, Australia, Africa, ...). They've been used for traditional honey production for centuries in a lot of South American countries, for example (off the top of my head I know of Mexico and Brazil). Their honey is also quite different to Apis honey in terms of chemical composition (and, speaking as a completely objective third party observer with absolutely no personal interest in the matter, is much tastier).

I'll stop now because otherwise I never will, but if there's anyone I haven't scared off yet, feel free to drop by and send me a message and I'll happily answer any and all bee-related questions you may have! I also really recommend the nonhoneybees (.) com blog, which is run by a wild bee researcher - they have really cute bee cartoons and lots of interesting facts about bees (and don't post at an overwhelming rate).

:o

🐝

[canmom]

VR observations, 10 months in

I've been a game dev for 10 months now. It's pretty great, I'm enjoying it a lot, I get to spend my days doing crazy shader shit and animations and voxels and visual effects. Hopefully the game that will come out of all this will be one people enjoy, and in any case I'm learning so much that will eventually come back to the personal ~artistic~ side of things. I can't talk about that game just yet though (but soon it will be announced, I'm pretty sure). So this is a post about other games.

Mind you, I don't actually play very many VR games, or games in general these days, because I'm too busy developing the dang things. but sometimes I do! And I think it's interesting to talk about them.

These aren't really reviews as such. You could project all sorts of ulterior motives if it was. Like my livelihood does sorta depend on people buying VR headsets and then games on them. This is more just like things I observe.

Headsets

The biggest problem with VR at the moment is wearing a headset for too long kinda sucks. The weight of the headset is all effectively held on a lever arm and it presses on your face. However, this is heavily dependent on the strap you use to hold it to your head. A better balanced and cushioned strap can hold the headset still with less pressure and better balance the forces.

The strap that comes with the Quest 3 is absolute dogshit. So a big part of the reason I wouldn't play VR games for fun is because after wearing the headset for 30-60 minutes in the daily meeting, the absolute last thing I'd want to do is wear it any longer. Recently I got a new strap (a ~£25 Devaso one, the low end of straps), and it's markedly improved. It would probably be even better if I got one of the high end Bobo straps. So please take it from me: if you wanna get into VR, get a decent strap.

I hear the Apple Vision Pro is a lot more comfortable to wear for long periods, though I won't have a chance to try it until later this month.

During the time I've been working at Holonautic, Meta released their Quest 3, and more recently Apple released their hyper expensive Vision Pro for much fanfare.

The Quest 3 is a decent headset and probably the one I'd recommend if you're getting into VR and can afford a new console. It's not a massive improvement over the Quest 2 - the main thing that's better is the 'passthrough' (aka 'augmented reality', the mode where the 3D objects are composited into video of what's in front of you), which is now in full colour, and feels a lot less intrusive than the blown out greyscale that the Quest 2 did. But it still has some trouble with properly taking into account depth when combining the feeds from multiple cameras, so you get weird space warping effects when something in the foreground moves over something in the background.

The Vision Pro is by all accounts the bees knees, though it costs $3500 and already sold out, so good luck getting one. It brings a new interaction mode based on eye tracking, where you look at a thing with your eyes to select it like with a mouse pointer, and hold your hands in your lap and pinch to interact. Its passthrough is apparently miles ahead, it's got a laptop tier chip, etc etc. I'm not gonna talk about that though, if you want to read product reviews there are a million places you can do it.

Instead I wanna talk about rendering, since I think this is something that only gets discussed among devs, and maybe people outside might be interested.

Right now there is only one game engine that builds to the Vision Pro, which is Unity. However, Apple have their own graphics API, and the PolySpatial API used for the mixed reality mode is pretty heavily locked down in terms of what you can do.

So what Unity does is essentially run a transpilation step to map its own constructs into PolySpatial ones. For example, say you make a shader in Shader Graph (you have to use shader graph, it won't take HLSL shaders in general) - Unity will generate a vision pro compatible shader (in MaterialX format) from that. Vertex and fragment shaders mostly work, particle systems mostly don't, you don't get any postprocessing shaders, anything that involves a compute shader is right out (which means no VFX graph), Entities Graphics doesn't work. I don't think you get much control over stuff like batching. It's pretty limited compared to what we're used to on other platforms.

I said fragment shaders mostly work. It's true that most Shader Graph nodes work the same. However, if you're doing custom lighting calculations in a Unity shader, a standard way to do things is to use the 'main light' property provided by Unity. On the Vision Pro, you don't get a main light.

The Vision Pro actually uses an image-based lighting model, which uses the actual room around you to provide lighting information. This is great because objects in VR look like they actually belong in the space you're in, but it would of course be a huge security issue if all programs could get realtime video of your room, and I imagine the maths involved is pretty complex. So the only light information you get is a shader graph node which does a PBR lighting calculation based on provided parameters (albedo, normal, roughness, metallicity etc.). You can then instruct it to do whatever you want with the output of that inside the shader.

The upshot of this is that we have to make different versions of all our shaders for the Vision Pro version of the game.

Once the game is announced we'll probably have a lot to write about developing interactions for the vision pro vs the quest, so I'll save that for now. It's pretty fascinating though.

Anyway, right now I've still yet to wear a Vision Pro. Apple straight up aren't handing out devkits, we only have two in the company still, so mostly I'm hearing about things second hand.

Shores of Loci

A few genres of VR game have emerged by now. Shooting and climbing are two pretty well-solved problems, so a lot of games involve that. But another one is 3D puzzles. This is something that would be incredibly difficult on a flat screen, where manipulating 3D objects is quite difficult, but becomes quite natural and straightforward in VR.

I've heard about one such game that uses 3D scans of real locations, but Shores of Loci is all about very environment artist authored levels, lots of grand sweeping vistas and planets hanging in the sky and so on. Basically you go through a series of locations and assemble teetering ramshackle buildings and chunks of landscape, which then grow really big and settle into the water. You can pull the pieces towards you with your hand, and then when you rotate them into roughly the right position and orientation relative to another piece, they snap together.

It's diverting, if kinda annoying when you just can't find the place the piece should go - especially if the answer turns out to be that there's an intermediate piece that floated off somewhere. The environments are well-designed and appealing, it's cool to see the little guys appearing to inhabit them. That said it does kinda just... repeat that concept a bunch. The narrative is... there's a big stone giant who appears and gives you pieces sometimes. That's it basically.

Still, it's interesting to see the different environment concepts. Transitions have this very cool distorted sky/black hole effect.

However, the real thing that got me with this game, the thing that I'm writing about now, was the water. They got planar reflections working. On the Quest! This is something of a white whale for me. Doing anything that involves reading from a render texture is so expensive that it's usually a no-go, and yet here it's working great - planar reflections complete with natural looking distortion from ripples. There's enough meshes that I assume there must be a reasonably high number of draw calls, and yet... it's definitely realtime planar reflections, reflections move with objects, it all seems to work.

There's a plugin called Mirrors and Reflections for VR that provides an implementation, but so far my experience has been that the effect is too expensive (in terms of rendertime) to keep 72fps in a more complex scene. I kind of suspect the devs are using this plugin, but I'm really curious how they optimised the draw calls down hard enough to work with it, since there tends to be quite a bit going on...

Moss

This game's just straight up incredibly cute.

Third person VR games, where you interact with a character moving across a diorama-like level, are a tiny minority of VR games at the moment. I think it's a shame because the concept is fantastic.

Moss is a puzzle-platformer with light combat in a Redwall/Mouse Guard-like setting. The best part of Moss is 1000% interacting with your tiny little mousegirl, who is really gorgeously animated - her ears twitch, her tail swings back and forth, she tumbles, clambers, and generally moves in a very convincing and lifelike way.

Arguably this is the kind of game that doesn't need to be made in VR - we already have strong implementations of 'platformer' for flatscreen. What I think the VR brings in this case is this wonderful sense of interacting with a tiny 3D world like a diorama. In some ways it's sorta purposefully awkward - if Quill walks behind something, you get a glowing outline, but you might need to crane your neck to see her - but having the level laid out in this way as a 3D structure you can play with is really endearing.

Mechanically, you move Quill around with the analogue stick, and make her jump with the buttons, standard stuff. Various level elements can be pushed or pulled by grabbing them with the controllers, and you can also drag enemies around to make them stand on buttons, so solving a level is a combination of moving pieces of the level and then making Quill jump as appropriate.

The fact that you're instantiated in the level, separate from Quill, also adds an interesting wrinkle in terms of 'identification with player character'. In most third person games, you tend to feel that the player character is you to some degree. In Moss, it feels much more like Quill is someone I've been made responsible for, and I feel guilty whenever I accidentally make her fall off a cliff or something.

A lot is clearly designed around fostering that protective vibe - to heal Quill, you have to reach out and hold her with your hand, causing her to glow briefly. When you complete some levels, she will stop to give you a high five or celebrate with you. Even though the player is really just here as 'puzzle solver' and 'powerful macguffin', it puts some work in to make you feel personally connected to Quill.

Since the camera is not locked to the character, the controls are instead relative to the stage, i.e. you point the stick in the direction on the 2D plane you want Moss to move. This can make certain bits of platforming, like moving along a narrow ledge or tightrope, kinda fiddly. In general it's pretty manageable though.

The combat system is straightforward but solid enough. Quill has a three button string, and it can be cancelled into a dash using the jump button, and directed with the analogue stick. Enemies telegraph their attacks pretty clearly, so it's rarely difficult, but there's enough there to be engaging.

The game is built in Unreal, unlike most Quest games (almost all are made in Unity). It actually doesn't feel so very different though - likely because the lighting calculations that are cheap enough to run in Unity are the same ones that are cheap enough to run in Unreal. It benefits a lot from baked lighting. Some things are obvious jank - anything behind where the player is assumed to be sitting tends not to be modelled or textured - but the environments are in general very lively and I really like some of the interactions: you can slash through the grass and floating platforms rock as you jump onto them.

The story is sadly pretty standard high fantasy royalist chosen one stuff, nothing exciting really going on there. Though there are some very cute elements - the elf queen has a large frog which gives you challenges to unlock certain powers, and you can pet the frog, and even give it a high five. Basically all the small scale stuff is done really well, I just wish they'd put some more thought into what it's about. The Redwall/Mouse Guard style has a ton of potential - what sort of society would these sapient forest animals have? They just wanted a fairytale vibe though evidently.

Cutscene delivery is a weak point. You pull back into a cathedral-like space where you're paging through a large book, which is kinda cool, and listening to narration while looking at illustrations. In general I think these cutscenes would have worked better if you just stayed in the diorama world and watched the characters have animated interactions. Maybe it's a cost-saving measure. I guess having you turn the pages of the book is also a way to give you something to do, since sitting around watching NPCs talk is notoriously not fun in VR.

There are some very nice touches in the environment design though! In one area you walk across a bunch of human sized suits of armour and swords that are now rusting - nobody comments, but it definitely suggests that humans did exist in this world at some point. The actual puzzle levels tend to make less sense, they're very clearly designed as puzzles first and 'spaces people would live in' not at all, but they do tend to look pretty, and there's a clear sense of progression through different architectural areas - so far fairly standard forest, swamp, stone ruins etc. but I'll be curious to see if it goes anywhere weird with it later.

Weak story aside, I'm really impressed with Moss. Glad to see someone else giving third person VR a real shot. I'm looking forward to playing the rest of it.

...that's kinda all I played in a while huh. For example, I still haven't given Asgard's Wrath II, the swordfighting game produced internally at Meta that you get free on the Quest 3, a shot. Or Boneworks. I still haven't finished Half Life Alyx, even! Partly that's because the Quest 3 did not get on well with my long USB A to C cable - for some reason it only seems to work properly on a high quality C to C cable - and that restricts me from playing PCVR games that require too much movement. Still though...

Anyway, the game I've been working on these past 10 months should be ready to announce pretty soon. So I'm very excited for that.

#vr #computer games #game development #shores of loci #moss #Youtube

[roosterbruiser]

𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 ☾ ☽ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 

☾☽ 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 "𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫" 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐚𝐲𝐞 "𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫" 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫

☾☽ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: It’s been almost three years since the accident that took half of her, and Faye “Clover” Ledger seems fine, really. She loves her old house, she has a perpetually expanding vinyl collection, she’s got a job she likes on base, and she is only a short drive from the beach. She’s grounded--literally. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw feels like he’s been homesick his entire life. He’s always on the move;  jumping from one squadron to another, living one mission to the next. Somewhere in between losing both his parents and carving a successful career as a Naval aviator, he’s never found himself a home. When a call to serve on a high-priority mission with an elite squadron brings Rooster back to Miramar, he finds that home. Except it’s not a house that he finds--it’s the former backseater that observes and records the mission for the Official Navy Record. 

☾☽ 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

☾☽ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

☾☽ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔

My hands are very, very cold.

It is a frigid October afternoon, the kind that warrants moth-ball scented linens and mulled wine. It’s a deceiving kind of cold, too, because the sky is perfect. If someone looked through a window from the inside of their house, maybe they would think it’s the middle of summer or late spring.

The canopy of the jet is closed tight, sealed impeccably, and my suit is thick. It smells of lye soap and skin. There’s perspiration gathering on my brow underneath my helmet and in the pit of my arms, but my hands are still cold.

My hands are cold every time I get nervous, even if I wear wool mittens, even if I wear our father’s thick leather gloves I’d taken before my first winter in Philly.

“How’re your hands? Cold yet?” Crimson asked on the tarmac, after we finished out walk-around.

Her helmet was tucked beneath her arm, resting on her hip, and our jet was looming behind her. It’s the only time my sister looked small to me.

The sun beat down above us, casting a shadow on the lower part of her face; her docile chin, her China-doll lips, the dimple in her left cheek, the blonde freckles over her nose. She reached out and took my left hand, then dropped it like it burned her. She shook her hand, contorting her face into a look of disbelief.

“Phew, Clover, cold as ice!”

Crimson was rarely nervous, and if she was, it never touched any part of her body. We were the same in the sense that we could command stillness in our limbs and slow our hearts with precise, measured breaths. But my hands got cold and hers never did.

Our F-18 was fragged. She watched them load mounds of ammo to our jet--API, HEI, SAPHEI--unblinking, unmoving.

“You’ll be fine,” she said after a moment, bumping me. I stood sturdy on the tarmac, my lime-colored helmet at my feet.

“I know,” I said, looking up at her.

The sun felt good on my cheeks.

She bit a grin and nodded.

“Couldn’t be a me without a you,” she said.

I zipped her khaki flight suit up so it covered her chest and shoulders. Her skin was warm to the touch, like the surface of a cooling kettle. I flattened out her shoulders and straightened her collar.

“Yeah,” I said, “and there couldn’t be a me without a you.”

Up here, approaching what feels like the top of the world, the sky is the kind of blue that seems endless and soft--like it’s made out of tufts of cotton and seamless flower petals.

We are flying somewhere over Europe, early in the afternoon.

“Approaching angels forty-six,” I say into my mask, “Maneater, you got us?”

When I speak, the scent of my smoothie thickens the air of my mask. It still smells sweet--that sick kind of sweet, the kind that would still taste sweet coming back up as bile.

“Roger, Maneater visual.”

The back of Crimson’s helmet is scuffed and scratched. Some of the scratches are so deep that patches of the baby pink color are flaking off, revealing the eggshell slate beneath it. There is a bright blue peace sign on the back of her helmet, and parts of it are chipping away, too. At the base of her neck, half a dusty blonde bun pokes out. I had twisted it into its place there earlier, after I twisted an identical bun at the base of my own neck.

“Banshee two engaging,” Crimson says, her voice crackling over the comm.

All I can hear besides the crackling comm is the sound of my own breathing. When I first came up in the air, it surprised me that I couldn’t hear the wind rushing past me. I feel it press down on my chest and hug me to my seat, but it never whispers to me.

The thinness of the air this high up is something I cherish--the moment I strain to breathe for the first time, when the cool stream of oxygen bursts through the mask and into my mouth, my nose. I like the feeling of the floor dropping out from under me, when I want to scramble around and find purchase on something to hold me in.

Our F-18 noses to the Northeast, tailing Banshee one, which is Maneater. I crane my neck--Banshee three is engaging, too. Jagger’s bright red helmet is like a blemish in the robin’s-egg sky.

“Banshee three engaged,” Jagger says, “sorry to break up the hen party.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Maneater snarks, “you didn’t.”

I know Crimson is smiling, even if I can’t see her face.

We are flying over a rocky terrain that is broken up by sprawling evergreen trees. There is already snow on the ground, the rocks jutting out from the white powder like jagged teeth. It looks very quiet--so soft, like the snow is just a dusting of powder.

“Radar?” Crimson asks.

The blinking screen is empty.

“Picture clean. Nose hot.”

“Roger. Banshee one engaging firewall.”

Maneater’s jets forward, her throttle maxed.

“Banshee two engaging firewall. Ready, kiddo?”

I reach forward to give Crimson a thumbs up. She nods without looking behind her and I hold tightly to my leather seat. The oxygen is racing inside me, like I’m gulping it down.

I’m forced against my seat like someone is holding me there. I strain to hear the wind whistle, but I don’t. One, two, three, four, five. I count the beats of my heart steadily, blinking rapidly as we approach Maneater’s tail. Crimson’s helmet is pressed against her headrest, too. The sky is so completely monochrome that it looks like we’re flying parallel to an endless screen.

“Banshee three engaging firewall,” Jagger follows closely.

For a moment, all I can hear is the jet slicing through the atmosphere, my own breathing, the oxygen hissing into my mouth. My saliva feels thick. I will my heartbeat to steady and mirror Crimson’s, which I know is cool and collected. I could be Crimson’s heart monitor--no actual connected wires required. It feels like there is a left side of myself and a right side of myself--or maybe a top version of myself and a bottom version of myself--and one part of it is always Crimson. I even know what she thinks.

The radar is still empty, blinking precisely nothing. We are approaching the target rapidly, slyly--a Russian submarine somewhere off the coast of Poland, which has been disregarding every warning to evacuate the area they have not been granted access to.

The Atlantic Ocean glimmers ahead of us, deep blue ahead of our fleet, expanding just as vastly as the perpetual sky we are inside of. The water looks deep, and very dark, almost black.

“Regretting that panini yet, Crimson?”

Crimson laughs over comm, shaking her head.

“Of course not,” Crimson answers, “dreaming about it, in fact.”

“Five ‘til target,” Jagger says, then adds, “aioli or pesto?”

“Roger. Pesto on French,” Crimson laughs.

Each time Crimson laughs, I wonder if my laugh is as melodic and infectious. Even over the crackled radio, Crimson’s laugh sounds like music, or the start of music. My sister’s laugh sounds like the split moment of amplified silence when one puts the needle on a record, when the machine seems to think. Maybe Crimson’s laugh even sounds like the first moments of the music, notes dancing from the record over a crackled speaker.

“Comanche 117,” a new voice crackles over comm, a familiar plain-toned one, “Banshees approaching target. Picture clean.”

“Roger. Banshee permission to standby?”

“Comanche 117, permission granted. Banshee continue.”

With that, each of our jets' nose's angle towards the earth below us as they descend, the terrain thinning expeditiously from snow to sand to ocean. I glance over my shoulder and the swirling waves stare back at me. I swallow hard, facing my sister again. The radar is still clean.

“Two until target. Picture clean,” I say, my voice unwavering.

My palms are sweating, but still cold. Clammy.

“Banshees, assume attack formation,” Maneater says, her voice clear and amplified.

Each maneuver of the stick feels like it's been practiced over and over again by Crimson. She flies fast and smooth, never getting ahead of team leader, never falling past the Banshee behind her. She thinks fast and acts faster. She doesn’t worry about catching her breath until she’s on the ground.

We are only a few hundred feet above the ocean now and the waves are so ominous and dark that I imagine them raising high enough to skim the bottom of our jets, knocking us out of the sky before swallowing us whole.

“Comanche 117. Banshees’ signal is buster to target.”

I fill my lungs, the skin at the base of my neck prickling. The air around me is muggy and nippy at the same time. Radar is still clean.

“Roger. One until target.”

We’ve practiced this assignment a many, dogfighting with Cyclone and Warlock, even though the mission itself is supposed to be routine. Maritime strikes are happening more often than not now. And all of us, even Jagger, have flown fragged jets at least a handful of times.

I feel that I’m on auto-pilot and Crimson does, too. If I close my eyes for the rest of the flight, my fingers would still know how to flip the right switches, my eyes would still know when to glance at the radar, and my heart would still know how to slow its own pace.

We are approaching what feels like the middle of the ocean, radars clear, holding our breaths. The land behind us grows smaller and smaller as we approach the target.

“C and C 293 visual?” Maneaster asks.

“Affirmative, C and C 293 visual,” I say.

“Jagger 692 visual?” Crimson asks.

“Roger. Jagger 692 visual.”

“Approaching target. Missile locked. Comanche 117, Banshee permission to fire away?”

“Comanche 117, your signal is bombs away.”

“Here we go,” Crimson whispers.

I look at the radar once more. Clear. Clear as the sky is blue.

“Bombs away,” Maneater repeats.

Red and yellow flames burst from Maneater’s jet, the heavy missile freefalling towards the ocean with a determined nose pointed downward. I turn and check the air around us, just in case the our nose is unknowingly cold. Jagger is trailing closely behind us. He sallutes me. I return it, then swivel back around.

“Clover, engage missile lock,” Crimson says.

It is easy to take orders from her, the older version of myself, even if it’s only by ten measly minutes.

“Roger,” I say, thumbing the heavy metal stick until the small screen squares in on the water and makes tone, “missile lock engaged. Bombs away, bombs away.”

It feels like the bottom of our plane is falling out, but it is a familiar feeling that makes the pit in my belly grows and grow until it feels like my abdomen is full of thick, dark nothing.

“Banshee three, engage missile lock,” Maneater commands.

With my helmet against the glass canopy, I watch Jagger’s missile nosedive right after ours in a plume of black smoke. I swallow hard--glance at the radar. Still nothing.

“Banshee three engaged missile lock. Bombs away.”

“Comanche 117, Banshees signal RTB. Picture clean. Approach angels 30.”

Maneater cuts through the air like it’s softened butter, jet pointing towards the heavens. Maneater is panting behind her mask, which is what she does each time we drop a missile, even during the drills. She’s like Crimson, though--she isn’t stifled by danger.

Crimson pulls the stick back, probably not even having broken a sweat, and our jet mirrors Maneater’s. I turn over my shoulder and watch Jagger follow suit.

I feel oddly naked flying with no clouds to obscure our jets. I stare at the radar, almost willing something to happen, for a bandit to blink alive.

“Comanche 117, Banshees approach angels 40.”

Below us comes a thunderous rumble and the ocean seems to split in half as our missiles destroy the submarine. The water is so high, so cold, that I shiver watching it reach up towards us, even if we are climbing to 40,000 feet. My lungs are hot and heavy, but the radar is still clear.

“Missile launch success. We have direct impace,” Jagger says gleefully, “bullseye!”

The word bullseye makes my toes curl.

“Comanche 117, Banshees approach angels 50.”

“Roger. Maneater 031 RTB.”

Each of us reaches 50,000 feet and radios to Comanche, letting them know we are en route to base. We are 50 minutes out.

When the jets level out, we are flying high and clear over the snowy terrain once more. I bring my shoulders down from my ears. I have always felt more vulnerable over the ocean--like it is waiting to lick our wings and gobble us up.

“Piece of cake,” Crimson says, sighing, “picture clean?”

“Affirmative,” I return, “piece of pie.”

Maneater chuckles over comm.

“Twins are so grotesque,” she says, “Jagger, you alive back there?”

“Alive and well,” Jagger sighs, then clears his throat, “felt a little too easy.”

Like clockwork, I say, “Radar clean, nose hot.”

“Right, right,” Jagger says, “just feel like we’re missing something.”

“Well,” Crimson starts, “I’m missing a hot, hot shower. And then maybe a drink.”

“And then a hot, hot date?” Maneater asks.

“Maybe so,” Crimson sighs, “someone to share with Clover.”

I can feel Crimson batting her lashes.

“I know a guy,” Jagger says, “a pilot. Graduated top of his class at Top Gun.”

“Jagger, you were number three,” Maneater scoffs.

“Number one in everyone’s hearts, though,” Jagger bites back. I can feel him grinning.

Crimson sighs into the comm.

“Think you can handle us both, big dog?”

I slap her shoulder.

“Maggie,” I hiss softly.

My face is burning. Hers is cool and slack. Jagger groans.

“Crimson, you’re making your sister blush,” Maneater laughs, “Hard Deck after we land?”

“Of course,” Crimson says, “we’ll be there.”

It’s nice sometimes to not have to answer. In the same way that I know the temperature of Crimson’s face, the fluttering of her eyelashes, or when she’s hungry, Crimson knows what I’m thinking. She knows what I’ll say, how I’ll answer. We are connected by an invisible string that was once a cord connecting us to the same womb.

The Hard Deck is somewhere we frequent, three to four times a week if we can swing it. It’s mostly a hangout for the Navy, the bar closest to base. Someone dressed in khaki always at the pool table or playing darts, some other uniforms sharing the expensive brandy.

The radar blinks back at me, still empty.

“What’s that God-awful song you played last time? Something about eating cars?” Jagger says this with a grimace evident in his strained voice.

“Rapture,” my sister and I say at the same time.

“That’s where I draw the line,” Maneater says, “no saying shit at the same time, lieutenants.”

I’m smiling behind my mask, glancing out either side of the jet. The sky is still clear. When I glance back at the ocean, the waves are building momentum as they race to shore, washing everything in white foam and black water.

“Who doesn’t like Rapture? Everyone likes Blondie,” Crimson laughs.

“Not their shitty music,” Maneater follows.

“I draw the line at Blondie slander,” I bite.

Crimson nods. Maneater chuckles. I can almost see her dark face reflecting the sun, the smooth parts of her skin shining blue. Her hair is also twisted into a bun at the bottom of her helmet, which I secured for her, maneuvering bobby pins in her black curls.

“Go out to the parking lot and you get in your car and drive real far,” Crimson sings, her voice raspy and amplified, “and you drive all night and then you see a light and it comes on down and lands on the ground and out comes the man from Mars!”

The sky is so blue through the canopy, the world darting past us at the speed of a fluttering eyelash. Crimson’s helmet is bobbing as she crudely sings, shaking her shoulders. She’s being a brat.

“And you try to run, but he’s got a gun! And he shoots you dead and eats your head,” I sing back.

Maneater and Jagger pretend to be exasperated on the other ends of the comm, but they’re laughing, too. Jagger’s thin chest is probably aching as he laughs because of the iron he pumped before taking flight, which was his own private ritual.

“Why does an alien have a gun? What kind of gun?” Jagger asks.

“Crimson, you’re the devil on your sister’s shoulder,” Maneater laughs.

“You’re making her blush,” Crimson exclaims.

My cheeks, as if on cue, grow pink.

Just as I open my mouth to defend myself, it happens. Two bandits blink to life on the radar. Everyone hears the chime.

“Tally two,” I say clearly.

“Position?” Maneater calls, blinking back into her authority.

“Bandits approaching from Northeast. Bandit one low four o’clock, Jagger. Bandit two high seven o’clock, Jagger,” I relay, “bandits firewalled.”

My fingers are so cold that it hurts to uncurl them. My heart jumps once, twice, then falls back into regular rhythm. Pressing my helmet against the canopy, I narrow my eyes on Jagger’s tail. Two SU-57’s approach Jagger.

“Jagger, engage firewall,” Maneater commands, breaking right suddenly to circle back, “C and C 293 visual?”

“C and C 293 visual,” Crimson bites, “Jagger, don’t let them get tone!”

“They’re gaining fast,” Jagger calls.

Suddenly, just as Maneater is falling behind Jagger, circling around to face the SU-57’s, the tone alerts Jagger. A missile drops from the jet at his four o’clock.

“Jagger, break left!” I yell.

Jagger’s jet suddenly cuts and the missile is hot on his tail.

“Deploying flares,” he calls.

Little bursts of yellow trail behind him, confusing the missile, exploding it.

“Crimson to Comanche 117,” Crimson calls, her voice still steady, “bandits engaging dogfight.”

“Comanche 117 to Banshees,” the voice says, “Banshees signal is to fire away, I repeat, fire away.”

“Hell yeah,” Crimson whispers.

My belly drops as Crimson suddenly angles our jets nose to the ground and falls behind Jagger and Maneater, behind the enemy aircraft. It is all so swift--behind them, I angle the missile lock, narrowing my eyes.

“We’ve got tone!” I yell, even though she can hear it.

“Bombs away,” Crimson yells.

The jet at Jagger’s high seven o’clock breaks left suddenly and our missile falls out from under us, cutting through the sky in a fury. The jet deploys flares, but just a moment too late. I watch it happen with my breath in my throat. Our missile explodes in the air, but close enough to his tail so that a piece of it breaks off, thick smoke swirling around the jet.

“We’ve got impact,” I call, “bandit two, high seven.”

“I’ve got tone,” Maneater calls, “bombs away!”

In just a single moment, Maneater deploys her missile and the jet doesn’t even deploy flares. The sleek, black aircraft bursts into flames instantaneously when the missile hits their engine one. A red parachute shoots into the sky just as the aircraft collides with the lip of a mountain.

“Bullseye,” I call, “what a grape.”

“Shit, bandit one has tone,” Jagger alerts us.

I look over, helmet against the glass. Jagger’s nose is straight and the bandit is behind him, missile dropping out from under.

“Break right, deploy flares,” I command.

“Deploying flares,” Jagger calls, pulling his nose suddenly to the right.

The bandit is hard and fast on him, mirroring his movement. Jagger deploys his flares in just the nick of time, only feet away from where it would really count if the missile made contact.

“C and C, time ‘til base?” Maneater asks.

“20 RTB,” I read.

“Jagger, fall back,” Maneater demands, “C and C 293 visual?”

“Affirmative,” Crimson says, “we’ve got you, Maneater.”

The rumble of our engine vibrates my throat. I gulp the oxygen coming in through my mask, blinking rapidly at the radar.

Maneater falls back behind the bandit and we fall below her, to her three o’clock. Jagger falls back suddenly, suddenly enough to confuse the bandit into following him directly into Maneater’s airspace.

“Tone,” she says quickly, “firing.”

Then I hear it. The tone in our jet screams. I look at our radar and it is clean except for the bandit Maneater’s missile is thundering towards. I look to our left, to our right, and there it is: a third bandit, aircraft so polished that it reflects the blue of the sky. It looms at our nine, vapor spreading beneath it as it zeroes in on us.

“Crimson, nose down, break left! Smoke in the air!”

Crimson smoothly follows my directions. I think I can hear her heart skip a beat, her breathing hitch.

“Deploying flares!” I scream out.

The little pops behind us are replaced with the screaming of a missile that only narrowly misses us. My throat aches.

“We’ve got another bandit hot on our tail,” Crimson yells over comm, “Maneater you got us?”

“I can’t shake bandit two,” Jagger calls desperately, “he keeps getting tone!”

Maneater bites suddenly, “Maneater not visual, Banshee one defending Banshee three.”

“Nose cold,” I call, tapping on the radar that has suddenly blinked off, “we’re naked over here!”

Crimson is throttling us through the sky in an almost zig-zag formation, forcing my head against the seat. She’s gulping her oxygen, but she isn’t picnicking, not yet.

“Comanche 117, C and C 293,” Crimson recites, “bandit inbound from East. C and C 293 flying naked, nose cold. Signal?”

“Comanche 117 to C and C 293,” Comanche answers, “Banshee two your signal is bug.”

The tone interrupts Crimson. I turn around and the bandit is on our six, gaining. A missile deposits under its aircraft and screams toward us.

“Smoke in the air, break left! Deploying flares!”

Maneater screams over the comm too, declaring her tone on bandit two.

“Hold tight, girls,” she yells, “bug!”

“We can’t fucking bug,” Crimson bites, “bandit three has tone again!”

The alarm blinks all around our cockpit. The bandit is on our right wing now, faster, vapor screaming out behind the jet.

“Deploying flares!”

I slam my fist against the button as Crimson cuts sharply down.

“Angels 30,” I tell Crimson, “be careful!”

“Hard Deck is angels 5! Decreasing to angels 10,” Crimson decides.

Our plane is racing towards the earth. I watch us behind us, the radar still naked and blinking nothingness. The bandit is smoothly following us, falling behind as Crimson engages the full speed of our F-18. We rapidly fall, my belly in my throat, my neck against the seat.

“Where’s our wingman?” Crimson howls.

Jagger has bandit one hot on his tail, mirroring each of his movements like they, too, are connected by an invisible string. Maneater is hot on the bandit’s tail, but she’s deployed guns.

I realize, as goosebumps prickle my skin, that Maneater is out of missiles. For the first time, the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention, my spine tingles like someone is ghosting their finger along my spinal column.

“What?” Crimson shouts and I know that her arms have goosebumps, too.

“Banshee one deployed guns,” I call, “we’re flying naked, Crimson!”

We swallow at the same time, both of us blinking rapidly. No wingman.

“Banshee one defending,” Maneater screams, rapidly firing ammo at the jet, “Banshee two hold tight!”

Crimson levels our nose, breaking right and left, but the bandit is still hot on us, nearing us with an ominous speed.

“Faye,” Crimson calls, “nose cold?”

I knock my gloved fist on the screen. It is black and calm as the ocean before our strike.

“Affirmative,” I say.

Our bellies are full of rocks. I can feel the sweat dripping down Crimson’s face. She’s breathing hard, pulling the stick back and forth. Both our mouths are cold and dry. She’s gripping the stick with the strength of a boar, her fingernails ripping and cracking.

“Banshee two, engage firewall!” Maneater calls, still aiming her guns at the jet that is evading her bullets. It’s like an intricate dance that’s been rehearsed, rehearsed, rehearsed.

“We’re already buster to mother,” I yell, “Comanche 117, C and C 293--standby for signal.”

“Comanche 117, your signal is buster.”

“God dammit,” Crimson screeches harshly, “we’re already bustering! Banshee one engaged in dogfight. We can’t bug!”

“Comanche 117, Banshee three, your signal is defend Banshee two.”

Jagger shakily cries over comm, “Banshee three engaged in combat. Hold tight, Crimson and Clover, hold tight!”

There is a single moment of quiet before we hear tone again. I slam my fist against the button again and the button suddenly feels hollow. Behind us, no flares pop in the sky.

“Out of flares,” I yell, “are you able to move into defensive maneuver?”

“No,” Crimson’s yell lurches from her violently, “this guy knows what he’s doing!”

The missile launches out of the sky and slams into out right wing. We jerk with the force of it, my helmet slamming into the back of Crimson’s seat.

“Right wing ablaze,” I shout, tears starting to pour down my face.

“Climbing,” Crimson says, suddenly pulling the stick back so our jet races upwards, “throttle back.”

There’s another sound, a louder one--the right engine bursts, sparks flying everywhere.

“Engine one on fire!”

“Extinguishing engine one,” Crimson cries, flipping switches haphazardly.

Nothing happens. The engine is still on fire. Something feels loose and I wonder if I am feeling the stick beneath Crimson’s palms. Our plane stalls and then, all at once, we are going down.

Crimson wildly tries to bring our nose out of the downfall, pulling back, turning it. Gravity punches us back into our seats.

“I lost control,” Crimson yells, “fuck, we’re going down fast!”

We are plummeting towards the earth and I hear it, then--the whistling of the wind. Except it is screaming, bursting my eardrums.

“Mayday, mayday!”

I have never spoken these words outside of a controlled stall, a drill; just pretend. And now, as we are falling, that’s what everything before this moment feels like. Pretend--like we were just playing.

“Punch out!” Crimson screams suddenly, “Clover, punch out!”

“What?” I cry.

I feel like I’m frozen in the moment, trapped in hardening molasses. The tone hisses in our cockpit, our radar still sleeping. The back of my sister’s helmet is all I can see as my vision blackens, tunnels. I know she’s crying. I can feel the tears on her cheeks, the lump in her throat. It is an involuntary kind of cry--one that is just the body’s reaction to its surroundings. We have never punched out of our aircraft before.

“Punch out now, Faye!”

I grip the cords and pull with all my might and in perfect unison, Crimson and I shoot from our jet as the missile collides with it. It’s like we are being born again into the sky.

The wind is so piercing that I can hardly hear our plane explode. Its heat rushes at us as our parachutes bloom. I rock harshly as the wind catches under the chute. It is freezing and the oxygen that was flowing into my mask has stopped now.

I feel, suddenly, like I’m falling instead of being suspended in the air.

That’s when I turn and see Maggie, her parachute pathetically being beaten by the wind instead of catching in it. Maggie is the one that’s falling, falling fast and hard, her arms flailing as she reaches around for purchase. She’s falling towards our burning jet, her helmet a dot of pink amidst the flames. I can feel the wind ripping the skin on her cheeks, the bile that’s rising in her throat, her stomach sitting in her chest cavity. Her heart is racing and my throat vibrates with her scream. Her fingers ache with the coolness of my own. My thighs grow warm when her bladder releases.

Our 24th birthday was three days ago. It was a Tuesday. She came to my house and we watched ‘Dirty Dancing’, fielding calls and texts from the same people. She brought a bottle of prosecco that we finished and I made an almond cake--an ugly yellow thing with a murky glaze. She showed me a message from an Army boy on Tinder.

Twins, huh? I have two hands.

I had pushed her shoulder as she laughed, laughed that big laugh that vibrated my couch, my chest. She stayed late, later than she should’ve.

“Will you play with my hair?” She’d asked, already sinking to sit on the floor before me.

I scratched her scalp, ran my fingers through her silky length, pulling out any knots gently. It was something I’d done since childhood; played with my sister’s hair. The sun had faded by then, ‘Dirty Dancing’ long finished, and she’d turned on her favorite record. ‘Landslide’ by Fleetwood Mac whispered through the speakers.

“Stevie Nicks was 27 when she wrote this,” I said.

She scoffed in amazement

“Is this what we'll feel like when we're 27?”

She hummed along quietly and her voice felt sweet in my throat.

I know she is going to die the exact same moment she does, the wind shredding her skin, knotting her hair.

“Maggie!” The scream tears from my raw throat the way her parachute suddenly tears free above her, sending her down harder, faster, cords flying freely in the wind.

Maggie is free-falling somewhere over the jagged, snow-dusted rocks.

☾☽ 𝐚/𝐧: prologue is kind of a doozy bc there's no Rooster but it's important for the setup. let me know what you think!! this is my first fan fiction that isn't about One Direction so I'm a little bit off my game!!

☾☽ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #top gun bob #top gun cast #dagger squad #original female character #pete mitchell #bradley bradshaw x female reader #faye x bradley #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #top gun rooster #top gun fandom #top gun fanfic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster fanfic #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley x faye #faye clover ledger

[nostalgebraist]

I just read your post about how GPT-4 does a lot better on many trick questions posed to it. Do you suspect OpenAI is specifically finetuning/prompting/training (not sure right terminology on this) GPT on these trick questions? It seems like often when GPT flubbing a trick question goes viral, GPT magically starts getting the question right a week later. If this is what's going on, it makes GPT seem less impressive tbh.

(Here's the post in question.)

I doubt it, since ChatGPT 3.5 still gets the questions wrong -- I checked. And I would assume it's much cheaper and easier to re-tune that model than to re-tune GPT-4.

Also, we now have some degree of ability to check for these changes, because OpenAI's API provides "snapshot" versions of these models from a particular date. As of this writing:

For ChatGPT 3.5, you can either use the latest model, or a snapshot from March 1.

For GPT-4, you can either use the latest model, or a snapshot from March 14.

Both of these dates are later than that twitter thread (Feb 22), but not by a huge amount.

I briefly tried comparing the snapshots to the latest models, on these questions, for GPT 3.5 and 4.

I didn't observe any differences between snapshot and latest.

But I did notice that GPT-4, in the API, often got the same questions wrong!

I initially chalked this up to some difference between the API and the chat.openai.com experience (e.g. temperature, system message). However, after re-trying the questions on chat.openai.com, I found that GPT-4 sometimes fails there as well.

On the car crash and river crossing questions, it sometimes gives the right answer, but it also sometimes behaves like 3.5 and recites the solution to the more common version of problem.

I also saw some odd cases like this, which aren't easy to classify as success or failure:

This is not a failure of attentiveness, I think, though it is a failure to be helpful / to play along.

(Though there is a possible version of the situation in which the model's response is correct: in real life, the resolution to an apparent paradox often involves the discovery of a flaw in one of your assumptions, rather than devising an ingenious way to wriggle out of the paradox "as written." From the model's perspective, this might well be the case for the user here.)

It has a much higher success rate on the Monty Hall and feathers/bricks problems. On these, after trying a number of times, I was not able to elicit a failure.

Intriguingly, if I set temperature=0 in the API, the resulting (deterministic) answer is...

Wrong, for the questions it sometimes gets wrong at nonzero temperature (car crash and river crossing)

Correct, for the questions it always gets right at nonzero temperature (Monty Hall and feathers/bricks)

For example, in the car crash question, the temperature=0 answer is the single sentence

The surgeon is the boy's biological mother.

We might interpret the screenshot above as the model first sampling a wrong answer very close to this, then noticing the problem, and attempting to work its way out of the hole.

I guess this underscores the necessity of running the same question multiple times and computing a success rate, if we want to seriously investigate the model's performance.

(Even a single success shows that it's possible for the model to succeed, which is something. But even then, it's worth verifying that one didn't just get lucky.

"It got the right answer on my first try!" sounds very different from "it gets the right answer 25% of the time." Yet, for ~25% of questions for which the latter is true, someone who only tries once would report the former experience.)

#ai tag

[sciatu]

Le api nere sono degli insetti autoctoni della Sicilia. La loro caratteristica è che non vanno mai in letargo perchè in Sicilia vi sono fiori tutto l'anno.

Non c’è un senso, in questo parlarci in differita, oggi io in una stanza vuota, domani tu in un metrò affollato, ieri lei prima di una teleconference. Non c’è un senso, nelle parole digitali che riempiono i nostri vuoti umani. C’è un senso però nella volontà di dire, di raccontare, di sognare e sognando essere nel bisogno di ascoltare osservando, leggendo, immaginando. Come il vento della primavera disperde i semi dei fiori, così ci spinge il vento della solitudine, a donare fiori ad altri cuori arsi di parole, orfani di speranze, ad altri silenzi nascosti dietro volti indifferenti, agli immensi deserti di solitudine rinchiusi nelle nostre piccole anime. Per questo come le operose api nere volo di cuore in cuore, di anima in anima, raccogliendo il polline delle parole, la dolcezza degli uomini che guerre e naufragi mortali non possono cancellare, non osano negare. Non c’è senso nel non cercarci, nel non essere legati da radici sottili che presto, insieme, ci nutriranno con l’acqua pura di quella vita che ci travolge e che ci manca.

There is no sense in this deferred talking to each other, today I in an empty room, tomorrow you in a crowded subway, yesterday her before a teleconference. There is no sense in the digital words that fill our human voids. However, there is a sense in the desire to say, to tell, to dream and to be while dreaming, there is sense in our need of listening, observing, reading, imagining. As the spring wind scatters the seeds of flowers, so the wind of solitude drives us to give flowers to other hearts, parched with words, orphans of hope, to other silences hidden behind indifferent faces, to the immense deserts of solitude enclosed in our little souls. For this, like the industrious black bees, I fly from heart to heart, from soul to soul, gathering the pollen of words, the sweetness of men, which wars and mortal shipwrecks cannot erase, they dare not deny. There is no sense in not looking for you, in not being bound by subtle roots that soon, together, they will feed us with the pure water of that life that overwhelms us, and that we miss.

#Sciatu #poetry #sicilia #sicily #flowers

[wumblr]

let's have a hard talk. these insufferable takes on AI are not advancing the discussion. the discussion was miles beyond this "takes work from artist" "consumer boycott must be the answer" dead on arrival poor substitute for an analysis, years ago, when timnit gebru got fired from google, for making what is now, because of her, the trivially obvious observation that large datasets may be too large to manually analyse for bias.

like congratulations. you have hit upon the point of capek's RUR, origin of the word robot, from a hundred years ago. were you going to take another point from back before the dust bowl or was that it? it's not just automation that takes surplus value from labor, it's any increase in efficiency. this is the first textbook feature of the economic model we're living under. luddites genuinely had more sense for nuance when the loom threatened to extract value from their labor at a pace never before seen. this is not that. luddites were producing textiles that people actually bought. you aren't.

aside from that, the implication that this is on par with like, a museum heist, or art forgery (both of which are, by the way, through a lens that includes class analysis, badass) is laughable. you are not selected for exhibition by making posts online, you are participating in a social medium where your continued pageviews are the source of advertising revenue. you are not bourgeoise, you are proletarian. your deviantart was search engine optimized to the point that it was trivial to pull five billion carbon copies of you off google images with like a two-line API call. you are not unique, you are one drop in a lost generation's renaissance. maybe if you don't want your work "stolen" you shouldn't be posting an endlessly reproducible digital copy to the world wide web? it's been seven years since twitter killed vine for trying to set the precedent that collective action can produce wage, can we bring back that level of foresight yet? or are you happy settling for tiktok because they deign to curate a ""creators fund"" for white heterosexuals? go buy a lottery ticket

i've said it before but this is a structured argument, presented to you with two neatly-collimated "sides," one that says every possible piece of data should be available for free for capitalist class to build automation out of it, and one that says pirating endlessly reproducible goods belonging the capitalist class should have harsher punishment. this is intentional, not unique, not new. it's the perverse dialectic of capital. you can only argue a side that benefits it.

the absence of nuanced intersectional perspective here is embarrassing. beyond that it's painfully obvious people are taking it personally, as if you had any chance to make rent as an artist, regardless of what procedural generation or neural networks might do. it's a selfish, blindly individualistic, mass manufactured wholesale bargain basement opinion, one that does not serve to advance any collective good, because it's based in the pipe dream of suddenly jumping three tax brackets to become bourgeoise. beyond that, doesn't it cheapen your art to only ever make saleable products? beyond that, it's painfully obvious none of you have ever tried using a neural network. from computer science or statistical perspectives, these constructs are novel and fascinating (or, the advent of cheap processing power sufficient to allow decades-old theory to flourish, which let's be honest, this power relies on an exploitative global network of rare mineral resource extraction and high precision manufacturing, which is yet one more topic i haven't once seen broached in the months this stultifyingly dull conversation has been ongoing.)

blaming a novelty for the ills of capitalism is nonsense, and it's not why luddites opposed the loom.

and let me just tell you, working with a code construct also does not improve your chances as an artist, which is the main point i wish i could get across. aside from the absence of intersectionality there's also an absence of class analysis, in which context it's, again, painfully obvious that no capitalist has ever cared one whit about art. even when they deign to take on a patronage it's as a backhanded PR stunt, like the unpaid notre dame roof pledges, to offset the ill repute they've accrued from extracting value for personal gain, while contributing nothing except the directive power their birthright of wealth gave them. this is the main critique i had about age of surveillance capitalism -- zuboff seems to think a return to ford-era capitalism, where the rich bothered to endow museums (to curate what they exclude) or pay a livable wage (in order to recapture it as sales), would solve the fundamental problem of value extraction from labor and natural resources for the barefaced sake of the profit motive. unremarkable and unsurprising for tenured faculty of harvard, how else would she sell books? but for some foolhardy reason i expected better from my peers.

your aspirations of small business aren't going to flourish if you suddenly got everything you claim to want and they banned every code construct from competing with you. you are not in competition with capital. you are nothing to it, it will kill you in total indifference without blinking, surely you ought to know this by now, it will bus in scab slave labor from prison to ramp up production despite a boycott in solidarity with a strike, and it's going to remain this way as long as capital survives. whether or not an algorithm or a network or an artifice is involved is irrelevant to the fundamental problem that it's a winner-takes-all game that ended before you were born. unless and until you want to start challenging the police that uphold the state or the insurance trust that pays to replace its points of failure, you're doing surface level armchair analysis on a problem that only the extremely online care about. arguing over what color of icing is on the cake you're never going to be eating while you starve for lack of bread.

and like... i get it. after the pandemic that we're still going through, you want to refocus on the things that really make you happy. but i've got to say, refocusing on art until you starve because you didn't manage to figure out self-sufficience during a recession is a sad way to die. perhaps you should consider the necessity of survival as a precursor to contentment. and to be clear i am saying this specifically because i care whether you survive and because i am interested in the artworks you are making or in your future potential. but you can't focus on that to the exclusion of all else, dog eat dog world and that means every day i have to see someone get ate. now for the last time, for god's sake can you stop yelling "this is because of code constructs" every time a dog eats your purported art commission revenue because it's really hurting MY purported small business revenue, selling products of code constructs,

#this has been in my drafts for THREE WEEKS but i finally saw one too many insufferable takes