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post-itpenny · 3 years

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❝ A tale befitting any opera. ❞

One Being Ruth.

Decided to do some DBD with our Survivor and Killer OCs. I apologize if this seemed like to ran too long. Irene likes to talk.

Ten trials.

That’s how many it took for Irene to come to her senses on just what had become of her.

She would later learn at the Killer’s Campfire that there were some that had taken much longer. Perhaps The Entity no longer saw the need to keep a ruse with her, or perhaps it never tried to begin with. Perhaps Irene had created the delusion that this was meerly a series of shows all on her own.

But she had to admit it was far easier to process the trials as merely a performance. None of the supporting cast really stayed dead and was not their director/ producer also their audience?

Before, the times between trials felt like a strange dreaming state. Sleepwalking through the theater as her mind tumbled through jumbled bits of memory and feeling. All of it was painful, she suspected that part was her new director’s doing. Her hurts and frustrations from a lifetime of being so close but never close enough, of never being good enough for too long.

And then there was her costume… it had to be Ruth didn’t it?

Irene found even after coming to her senses she did not care much for the Killer’s Campfire. Visiting when needed then going off to whatever performance she was slated for in one trial ground or another. There was no script, though like many an actor Irene appreciated the chance at improv. After she would spend her time in the theater. Acting out scenes from old scripts, reorganizing the prop room, or like today she was singing to the empty rafters. Anyone who heard her may or may not have been surprised to find the diva actually had a very lovely singing voice.

Irene was working her way through the aria of Puccini’s Madame Butterfly when the rushing sigh of her director’s presence filled the hall. It seemed, much to her delight, this trial would be coming to her.

There was a slight pull, the tiniest tug as someone else entered the theater. Ah, so her sound technician was here today? Well good, what's a performer without a decent set of stage hands? Though she supposed he was more of a fellow actor these days.

Irene smirked and skulked off to her dressing room where her rapier sat waiting and... perhaps something else a bit of a treat for today maybe? Around her the place shifted, generators, pallets, and hooks appearing.

A deadly game of cat and mouse. Such drama, such suspense. A tale befitting any opera…

Irene adored it.

Accept of course a few members of her supporting cast-

“Hey you hag!”

Irene growled as she turned to spy a grin and mass of curly hair.

Mary shot Irene the middle finger “come and get it bitch!”

Irene sighed, it was so hard to find good talent these days.

This one enjoyed a good chase and much to Irene’s dismay, lead her around the map. The sharp clicks of her boots interrupted as a pallet came crashing down on her head. Irene let out a shriek as stars flashed before her eyes.

The impertinent girl let out a trill of laughter as she zoomed off. Irene had already learned that the girl would only grow faster if she could not follow, and it drove her mad. The others called this kind of survivor and Obsession. Another of their director’s tricks, you needed to kill this one, the thrill of the chase too powerful. Irene hated it.

Which was why she left the little imp alone.

The adrenaline of a trial felt akin to the one she would feel in auditions in her younger years. A desperate but thrilling pursuit. Her first role in New York had been one of the sisters in The Pirates of Penzance, a comedic opera. A somewhat smaller role in the production but she still had to fight tooth and nail for it. She remembered how lovely the leading lady Maryanne had been, but it was Ruth that fascinated her.

Ruth was a multifaceted role, comedic in being an older lady who was hard of hearing yet roped into a band of pirates. However, act two showed how calculating and manipulative she was. Arguably one of the actual main antagonists of the opera. A very young Irene had been fascinated with the duality and of course, an older woman dressed as a pirate. It reminded her of all the times she and her siblings played pirates as children. The middle of eight siblings normally left Irene with little chance as captain and almost always being sent to walk the plank for insubordination or mutiny. The sea being a particularly deep puddle outside her family's home after it rained.

A young Irene had mused that Ruth would be an enjoyable role to play one day, teaming up with the Pirate King and dressed in such a fun costume. Then, it was just two seasons ago that she was casted as Ruth and Irene could not help but think about how this meant she had the appearance to match a foolish old woman.

She was wearing the Ruth costume now, of course The Entity picked it.

Irene rubbed the back of her head as her feet left the ground and she floated down the hall opposite of where the girl had ran, but it seemed the little imp wasn’t ready to let Irene go just yet.

“Where ya going huh?” Mary teased as she ran past Irene and ducked behind the rubble of a row of theater seats. “Is it time for your afternoon nap?”

“It seems to me you just can’t keep away darling. Not that I blame you.” Irene sneered, a wicked glint in her eye as the fingers of her left hand twitched.

Foolish.

The girl popped up to dash off when Irene lashed out. The strings tied to her fingers tightening as they wrapped around the joints of Mary’s arms and legs. The survivor gave a yelp as all feeling left her body save for the burning sensation where the strings connected.

Irene chucked, “I’m not one for heavy lifting. How about instead we take a walk?”

Survivors had dubbed her The Muse since she had once been an actress, they also all agreed her “special” ability was terrible.

Mary stuck her tongue out at Irene as her arms reached up to haul her own body onto the hook.

“My now don’t you look just picture perfect right where you are.” Irene sneered, “but this is what separates someone like you from me. You’re only fitted to be a piece of the background, a small part of a trial in which I have the starring role. Why else would there be four of you? Why else so many chances to keep the show running but for my benefit? Why else-“

“Lady! Do you ever shut up?” Mary groaned as she wiggled on the hook. “If you’re gonna just stand there and drone one like that I’m going to let the damn spider god-thing to come and get me before I die of boredom.”

Irene rolled her eyes and stalked off, trying her hardest to keep her composure. She could be patient just a little longer.

She became aware not long after that someone had rescued her but Irene could only laugh, she had decided to treat herself today after all. Something special she had brought to the trial.

In the basement she had at last found Thomas fishing a rather fancy looking med kit from a chest.

He wasn’t one for taunting, instead locking eyes with Irene for a moment and dodging the slash of her rapier. Up the stairs and backstage they went. Irene grinning like mad as she chased him room to room. Irene reached out with her puppet strings only to snag the ankle of someone else.

Thomas looked over his shoulder to see Mary tangled up in the attack. He spun on his toes, grabbing her arm and in the process felt the sting of something fusing into his elbow.

Irene seemed to almost glitch for a moment, as if overwhelmed by having two people on her strings at the same time. She doubled over, hands clamped over her head as she cried out in pain. Thomas wasting no time in pulling Mary free and shoving the med kit he had found into her arms. She gave him a quick salute of thanks as they ran in opposite directions.

When Irene recovered she was seething with fury, tearing across the stage and through the halls, downing anyone she could find.

Soon a young man wearing broken glasses found himself on his last hook. Irene noted the sounds of only three generators completed. Such strange things, loud and reminding her just slightly of the engine in her father’s Model T.

Irene found a redhead sprinting across the mezzanine when again the imp was back and jumping in the way to take the slash of Irene’s rapier.

“Didn’t your mom teach you not to run with sharp objects?” Mary taunted as she dogged another attack and looped Irene around a row of seats.

Mary leaped over the railing only to be caught again by the swipe of the thin sword. She gave a yelp before crashing down on the stage below. Irene wasting no time in following suit.

She stood over the girl with a mad grin, listening to the whispers of the entity who had been watching the performance so far. The Muse hummed in delight as Mary’s eyes wided for just a moment, they both knew what was coming.

But then she smirked, “eh… still worth it.”

The strings lashed out again. Suspending the survivor in the air. The Muse stood before her, so much fury built up over the trial, over a lot of things. She shrieked as she slashed at her victim over and over before driving the weapon through Mary’s chest. Her dead body collapsing to the floor in a heap as The Muse turned towards the empty audience seats and took a bow.

#irene oakland #the muse #mary #DBD #dead by deadlight #dbd oc killer #dbd oc survivor

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sloppy-butcher · 4 years

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GhostFace’s Field-guide to the Entity #3

Day 146

I am in Hell. Complete and utter hell.

I have, regretfully and bitterly, come to terms with my lack of a private, personalized domain. I have accepted that killing must be done in a certain way, even if that goes against my better judgment. There are a lot of things, a lot of things, I have had to put up with, I’ve had to pull my pants down and let the Entity fuck me raw, but this, this, takes the fucking cake.

I'm not a babysitter, I hate kids and I would never sign up to be the poor sod who has to deal with them all day. So why the actual fuck does has this happened to me?

The first time I had the misfortune of encountering that fat buffoon was when he stumbled upon me. I was just relaxing, sitting against a tree in a clearing that I had claimed as my own, scribing my notes from the workday about survivors into my notebook when out of nowhere this sweaty, enormous goliath of, what a presume to be, a man tumbled out of the woods and disturbed my peace. I got up quickly, prepared because some killers are extremely hostile even to other killers. It took a moment for the thing to register his surroundings and when he spotted me he froze. I caught the look in his eye, one of fear, uncertainty, and hunger. I got my knife and purposely glinted it in the light out as a sort of warning. My movement seemed to startle the man as he looked me up and down, squealed then dashed back off into the night. To say I was confused would have been an extreme understatement.

I wish, how I wish that that was my first and only interaction with the big oaf but everyone knows that God has something out for me because the next off-time I had, I saw him again. He wasn’t stealthy, with that large belly of his and heavy breathing he had no chance of adequately hiding himself being a tree. I could practically smell him from his spot just beyond the clearing. He was watching me, observing and calculating me and everything I did. Wait, no. That’s giving him too much credit. The fucker was probably just waiting for a chance to attack me or something. Maybe he was bored and wanted a quick kill in order to get his blood flowing. Regardless of his motives, he annoyed me. In one swift motion, I jumped at him, putting my hands out and proclaiming “Boo!”. Again he squealed like a pig then retreated, like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Later he came back. I scared him off. Then he came back again. Then again. And again.

Eventually, he no longer got spooked by my jumps and instead started chuckling at them. He is like a child. A toddler trapped in the body of a hefty giant adult man. He thinks I’m playing a game with him and is getting more and more confident when approaching me. He no longer hides at the edge of the clearing and now stands next to me, looking over my shoulder as I relax or read. Even now as I write this I can feel his breath of my shoulder and I can smell his unbrushed teeth and that rotting, flesh mask he wears. I have tried speaking to him as an adult, man to man, but like a child, he either doesn’t understand or care.

And it is so fucking annoying.

Day 149

He follows me everywhere. My only alone time now is when I'm working. It’s gotten to the point where even if I runoff and manage to lose sight of him in the woods if I stop for a second he’s back next to me squealing and gurgling like a baby. It appears that even the Entity has something out for me. I'm at my breaking point.

So I bit the bullet and went to pay my dear friend Evan Macmillan, or formally known as the Trapper, a visit with my parasite in tow. He was the first other killer I spoke to and I get the impression that he is like the makeshift peace-keeper in this place. The middle man between us and the spider in the sky. He knows a lot about this place and its inhabitants. If you ask me, Evan is the knitting-circle of everything, the gossip girl. Anyway, Macmillan heard us coming from a mile away and when I finally came face-to-face with him he crossed his beefy arms over his chest, cast a judgemental eye over me and the thing and simply stated, “Leatherface.”. ‘Leatherface’ seemed to light up at the sound of his apparent name. Macmillan then turned to leave.

“Wait!” I jumped forward, Evan only so much as turning his head to look back at me. “Can’t you do anything about him! He’s always with me! Following and being loud and just being a general nuisance!” Macmillan raised an eyebrow. “Please! Just tell him to go home and to stop bothering me!” I swear I heard a quiet scoff from the large man.

“He has no ‘home’.” And just like that Evan disappeared leaving me with nothing but the man and his name. But I guess I did learn something, Leatherface was alone like me. He had no domain to return to.

I still don't like the guy. I would do anything to get him to leave me alone but I... can’t just tell him to fuck off. I realize that he does understand me, he is fully aware that of what I am saying and what I would like him to do but he can’t talk. He can only make noises, gestures and he likes to stick his tongue out a lot. I also can’t force him to leave. As much as I hate to admit it I am no match for that man. If he leaves, it would be by his choice.

“So,” I venture, boredom and a morbid sense of curiosity taking control over my tongue, “got any girlfriends waiting for you on the other side?” Leatherface looks away from me bashfully.

“C’mon,” I tease, punching him playfully in the shoulder. “I’m sure the chicks back home were all dying over you. With that sleek hair and debonair grin, why I peg you for quite the ladies man if I do say so myself.” I was lying. He was fuck ugly. I was being rude and mean, trying to push him away by insulting him in a very passive-aggressive manner. Of course, that didn’t work.

Leatherface blushed under his mask and produced soft groans while nervously licking at his teeth. His shoulders came up to his ears as if he was trying to hide like a turtle retreating back into his shell. No luck on the being-rude front. Dejectedly I sigh and sit down against a tree in a clearing. Leatherface plops down next to me and pulls out a massive chainsaw. He sets to work fixing and maintaining it and after a while, I catch myself watching him. I huff and turn away, pulling out my notebook in order to document my earlier encounter with Macmillan. Out of nowhere, Leatherface pokes me in the ribs.

I loudly exhale and turn my head to face him. He offers what looks like a smile and passes his chainsaw to me. Begrudgingly I take it, the weapon was incredibly heavy and I need both hands just to hold it steady. Again I was amazed by his sheer size and strength, this man could hold the chainsaw with just one hand. Leatherface points out a name scratched into the plastic covering.

“Bubba.” I read aloud. He squeals and claps his hands together delighted. I smirk at him. “So that's your name huh? Your real one.” He nods and points a large dirty finger at his chest. He taps himself then points at my chest. He wants to know my name. I don’t know what the point of knowing my name is, it’s not like he would say it but for some reason, a small part of me wanted to humor the big oaf.

“Ghostface,” I told him. He tilted his head. “But you can call me Danny.”

#dbd #dead by daylight #dbd the ghostface #dbd imagines #dbd leatherface #danny jed olsen johnson #the two homeless boys #danny has a new friend #danny's dairies

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missn11 · 4 years

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And we’re back with chapter one of The Devil’s Advocate and this time I’m not going to unnecessary fill up your dash! 😅 This chapter was pretty short compared to the prologue and not too much happen as from catching with Owain in the modern age and glimpsing at the villains of the book, maybe.

Anyway, we cut from 1093, Wales to the present time (assuming 1997) America, Atlanta, to a Kindred named Grimsdale, whose on the run from his former allies to get to Chicago for safety.

The skyscrapers towered on every side, enormous walls to a cell—or coffin—from which Grimsdale might never emerge. He jerked about, the hundredth glance over his shoulder that hour. Nothing. But they had to be close. He could feel their predatory gazes boring through him like a stake. Grimsdale harbored no illusions. If they caught him there would be no trial, no appeal to the archbishop. There! He whirled around at the sound of a deep, raspy cough just down the street. Street person or assassin? No way to know. Keep moving, Grimsdale told The Devil's Advocate 43 himself. He dashed across the intersection and hurried down the sidestreet. Keep moving. He hadn’t come this far to die now. Downtown Atlanta was mostly deserted this time of night—no crowds for cover, but always plenty of shadows to hide killers. Grimsdale’s hearing was sharp, but would that be enough for him to slip out of the city, to get to Chicago? He had avoided New York, Washington, Detroit, but even here they had found him. How much longer could he elude them? How many hours until his luck ran out?

Then we cut to a courier, Nicholas who has been sent to Owain’s estate to deliver a message.

Evans sat easily upon the edge of his desk, savored a sip from the glass he had poured. “You are from eastern Europe…not the Balkans, to the north…” He took another small sip, concentrated. “Minsk?” A smile crept across Nicholas’ features. He had underestimated this elder of the city. “Kiev.” “Kiev.” Evans nodded. “Of course. Accents are tricky things, and yours is quite faint. You’ve not been home for quite some time, I’d wager.” Nicholas snorted good-naturedly. Four words, and the young-looking vampire had guessed his home within a few hundred miles. Nicholas’ predatory instincts were again as alert as they had been in the forest. He wouldn’t let his guard down again, not around this wily Kindred with his disarming manner and sharp mind. Nicholas didn’t know much about Owain Evans other than that he was a prominent but unobtrusive member of Atlanta’s Kindred community. Obviously he was well-off financially, and he would bear close watching while Nicholas was in town

Evans chatted on politely about something. Nicholas inwardly cursed his own weakness. He had completed his task. How much longer would this maddening formality go on? Nicholas did not feel he could risk offending this elder by dashing out of his home. “Well, my talkative friend,” Evans continued, “let me ask you one final question.” Final question. That phrase muscled through Nicholas’ distress and grabbed his attention. “I’m curious.” Evans sat behind his desk once again and gestured toward the bone case. “You did not bring this message all the way from Berlin purely out of good will. What was your payment?” The question was like cold water thrown in Nicholas’ face. Even though Evans must have known the message was coming and where it came from, how did the cursed Ventrue know to ask about the one thing Nicholas couldn’t divulge? “A favor from a friend’s friend,” he mumbled.

He could feel those black eyes watching him, and wasn’t sure if he could meet the probing gaze with- 50 Gherbod Fleming out losing control, without falling into frenzy. Suddenly the urge to shred the expensive drapes, to rake his claws across the perfectly stained hardwood floor was quite strong. The thought of such savagery in this all too proper room was so appealing that Nicholas couldn’t help laughing at the dichotomy. This seemed to catch Evans off guard. For the first time this evening, the Ventrue looked perplexed, and his obvious puzzlement made Nicholas laugh even harder. The violent nature of his thoughts intensified proportionately, which struck him as increasingly hilarious. Soon Evans joined in the laughing, almost nervously at first, then more forcefully, still not comprehending but not caring, for laughter, like hatred, is contagious. “What, exactly,” Evans forced out between mirthful convulsions, “are you laughing at?” “I was thinking…a-hem…of ripping your throat out,” Nicholas explained gleefully. Rather quickly, Evans stopped laughing. Shortly Nicholas, too, had regained his composure, and both men looked about slightly embarrassed, not exactly sure what had just transpired. Nicholas decided prudence called for taking his leave before the room again began to close in on him. “With all due respect, Mr. Evans, I must go.”

After Nicholas, Owain, who had been playing a chess game for years now, rolls open the message to find that he had lost.

Just as he finished, his distracted gaze fell upon the ivory cylinder on his desk, the message nearly forgotten amidst the strangeness of the visit. He picked up the tube and inspected the intact seal of his long-time opponent. A pity almost to open it. Often times the anticipation was more titillating than the actual revelation, especially when, like this time, Owain felt sure he knew what the message contained. He crossed to the small alcove in the study where he kept his Battle of Hastings chess set. It was carved by a wood worker who had seen with his own eyes both Harold Godwin and William the Bastard on the field that black day in 1066. Owain, as always, played the dark Anglo-Saxon defenders so that he might rework history and spare his homeland the indignity and the horror of Norman overlordship. And this time, the Bastard was getting what he deserved!

This particular game had been going on for about three centuries now, moves sent by courier every decade or two. The previous game had bogged down a bit, as Owain had spent most of the Re- 52 Gherbod Fleming naissance in torpor, but not so this time. Owain congratulated himself as he surveyed the board. The end-game was nearly played out, his black forces relentlessly pressing the attack. The white king was backed near a corner along with a woefully misplayed bishop. A lone rook, a sorely pressed knight, and a smattering of ineffectual pawns cluttered the center of the board. Owain’s pieces were in a far superior situation, even lacking both of his knights. Otherwise, one bishop and one rook were the only casualties of any significance. Owain’s queen whisked around the board mercilessly crushing every semblance of resistance from the damnable Normans. Perhaps Harold should have taken his wife into battle, Owain mused. Surely the end was near. This correspondence might just as well contain a final concession as a move. Unlikely. Owain’s opponent, he knew, would probably struggle on to the end. Futile. And not particularly graceful. Owain grinned as he conjured the image of driving the Normans, mauled and bloodied, back into the English Channel. It would be a shame, really, to end the game. It was one of the few diversions that held much interest for Owain any more.

He was fairly ensconced within Kindred society, and his financial empire more or less ran itself. Occasionally a bit of blackmail, corporate espionage, or murder was required, The Devil's Advocate 53 but nothing overly taxing. Generally, one night was like the next was like the next. That very fear, of anticipation giving way to boredom, stayed Owain’s hand, kept him from opening the cylinder. Even the messenger, that odd Gangrel, had proved entertaining. When could Owain again expect such an intriguing break from routine? A blackness gnawed at him from within. Blacker than the pieces on the chess board, blacker than the night outside his window. Perhaps it is the call of torpor I hear once again.

The knock at the study door interrupted Owain’s darkening spiral of thought. “Yes, Randal.” Owain’s most trusted ghoul stepped into the room. “Sir, our…ah…guest, as he were, has departed, and Ms. Jackson has brought the car around.” “The car? For…?” Owain was still concentrating on the chess board. “The art exhibit,” Randal finished his master’s sentence. “Oh, yes. That,” Owain said absently, again examining the ivory case in his hand. “Is that tonight? You’re sure?” “Yes, sir.” “Of course you are. I knew it was tonight. I suppose a man is due a lapse of memory every century or two.” “Indeed, sir.” 54 Gherbod Fleming “And our dear Prince Benison wouldn’t take kindly to being ignored, now would he?” Owain sighed and set the tube on the table by the board.

Now that he was required elsewhere, his curiosity about the message was piqued. “Oh, bloody hell.” He rose in frustration and started across the room. He would need a fresh suit, but first he should shave the stubble that began every night as two day’s growth and never grew longer. Halfway to the door he stopped and turned back to the table. “Wouldn’t do to be unfashionably early, now would it?” It would be a rare day when impatience didn’t win out over duty. Owain settled into the seat by the chess board. “Well, Randal, let’s see what pitiable defense my esteemed adversary has put forward.” A suddenly claw-like fingernail made short work of the seal, and Owain was unrolling the yellowed parchment he slid from the tube.

As always, there was no preamble or greeting; the black script flowed smoothly limning the five essential words: Rook to King’s Knight five and then a sixth: Check Even close to a millenium of undeath had not prepared Owain for that instant. But he recovered quickly; only for a moment did his mouth drop open before he assumed a more directed response. “There must be a mistake.” The words rasped forth The Devil's Advocate 55 from his suddenly parched mouth and throat, but there was no mistake.

Of course Owain doesn’t take this lost very well...

Owain had pinned White’s pesky remaining knight and within two or three moves would most likely have maneuvered the king into checkmate. But now this! Not only did the rook place Owain’s king into check, the piece’s movement revealed a discovered attack from White’s king’s bishop which also produced check. “But…how?” Owain weakly whispered. There was a pawn blocking that diagonal. A white pawn, but I don’t remember it moving….

He lowered his face into his hand. Owain’s opponent had not, in fact, moved that pawn. Harold Godwin’s omnipotent queen had whisked it away to Norman hell. That was several turns back. Probably…1930. The queasiness in Owain’s stomach intensified as he studied the board more closely. Not only was Owain’s king in check from two attackers, he was trapped. He could escape for one turn, but then rook to king’s knight eight, protected by the bishop, every black piece at least two moves away—checkmate. “Ahhhhhh!” Owain’s fangs slipped down and his claws took shape, so incensed was he.

“Sir?” Randal, who had quietly eased forward to look over his master’s shoulder, jumped backwards, nearly knocking a bust of Oliver Cromwell from its marble pedestal. As Randal watched from a rela- 56 Gherbod Fleming tively safe distance, Owain, his hand quivering with rage, moved the white rook from its former position to king’s knight five with a resounding thump that threatened to upend the other pieces. Randal, an accomplished gamer himself, examined the board for a brief moment. “Oh.” Owain restrained his urge to take each chess piece, one at a time, and rend its head from its body, before grinding its disjointed form into bits too minute to be recognized. With a supreme act of will, he calmly rose from his chair and left the room. “I believe I have somewhere to be,” he muttered through clenched teeth. Randal quietly followed behind.

We then cut back to Grimsdale, who is caught by I guess some Sabbat and they start eating him before a Lasombra, Francesca finishs him up.

“Save some for your lover, Dietrich.” Francesca’s words rolled off her tongue, the very sound of her voice enough to drive Dietrich to distraction. He stepped away from his current masterpiece and pushed away Liza as well. The African-American woman hissed, droplets of fresh vitæ spraying from her mouth as Grimsdale collapsed to the ground. “I don’t believe he’ll be going anywhere now,” Francesca observed. Dietrich laughed at her words, unable to contain himself. He began bouncing where he stood. Liza licked her lips and wiped her face with her sleeve, watching begrudgingly as Francesca lifted Grimsdale and drained the rest of his blood. Even Liza had to admit there was a certain style, an innate sensuality, about this Hispanic woman. Watching her lick the mangled body gave Liza The Devil's Advocate 61 goosebumps and set her to fantasizing. “Your shadow it hold him good,” said Dietrich. “Of course it did,” Francesca responded. Dietrich edged closer and guffawed idiotically at her acknowledgement of his complement. Liza had had enough. “I’d love to stay so we could all kiss each others’ asses, but I got places to go.” Francesca nodded in her direction. “Your aid was invaluable. It will not go unnoticed, I assure you.” “Yeah?” It was difficult for Liza to mouth off at this woman. “Okay.” As Liza turned to leave, she noticed Dietrich’s reptillian tongue stretching out and wrapping itself around Francesca’s forearm. Walking away, Liza tried to ignore the maniacal cackling spilling out from behind the building.

#vampire the masquerade #The Trilogy of the Blood Curse #The Devil's Advocate #books #my reading blogging

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racingtoaredlight · 5 years

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Game of Thrones Series Review

You likely still remember HBO’s prestige show Boardwalk Empire. You shouldn’t. It was terrible. I watched every single episode of that show...learning the characters’ arcs and the world they lived in, both fictional and real...for no apparent reason other than it being on.

It made me mad that I was so loyal to such a thoroughly mediocre show. The show’s quality did not deserve that type of dedication, and yet I was still there because of course I was. But Boardwalk Empire was still consistent. They gave you the same hour and six minutes of boredom interspersed with two minutes of action each week...just enough dangling to get you to come back next week. There was no hiding the fact that the show was a morass of who-gives-a-shit, once Michael Pitt’s character was killed in season 2*.

*I’m spoiling this because I actively do not want you to watch this show

But at least it was consistent.

GOT SPOILERS AFTER JUMP

***

I loved the first three or four seasons of GOT. The political intrigue and churning maelstrom of charismatic characters vying for power was brilliant, even if the moral explorations were pretty hamfistedly executed.

At some point, things got stupid and I’m not sure where. My first hint something was amiss was when young Dany survived a pyre...”great, so this is where it’s going*.” Dragon and magic nonsense aside, the writing and story was still good enough to carry interest in the show through such awful, AWFUL storylines as the whole Bran, Ramsay, Arya and Sam plots.

*I forgot about the white walkers in the first episode...whatever

Last season was fun, because it was a mad dash and all, but I couldn’t help but look back on the first three seasons and think about how much of a departure the show had made. That season was like making Michael Bay the director for Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.

Not having the books’ steady hand combined with the fact these things are goddamned expensive to make obviously had something to do with the warp-speed plot stuff, and while I understand that aspect, it’s also what bummed me out.

But last night’s episode was too much. This season has been rough, with even the most charitably inclined excuse obvious flaws due to enjoyment and nostalgia for the fictional universe. It’s been clumsy...obvious gestures of fan service executed clunkily and couched within an episode that features a literal holocaust taking up 1/3 of the action.

***

And all of the shit up to that point was just jerking around fans like the writers didn’t give a fuck. The undead are too powerful...yet they’re beaten by a “trap” that had a eunuch defending a cripple before a child stabs him with a tiny knife. But now they’re depleted! The Golden Company! Oh shit!

That threat built up over the first half of the season as the ultimate trump card in Cersei’s deck was wiped out...literally...in 15 seconds. That whole “shit, Cersei’s loaded” was knocked down without even lifting their gloves. That’s not nothing...that’s dick storytelling. That’s telling your child you’re going to Disneyworld, and then ripping the plane tickets up in front of them before lighting the cat and dog on fire.

I stuck around with Boardwalk Empire because at least the storytellers were trying to tell a story...it’s just that Buscemi can’t carry a giant show and Michael Pitt’s diva-ness painted them into a corner where they couldn’t find a way to make the story matter again. But at least they had great set design, great acting, a fantastic soundtrack and an attention to detail the GOT universe abandoned likely around Stannis Baratheon’s death.

At least they were still trying.

What can we say about GOT’s episode last night? Outside of the Jaime/Tyrion scene, there wasn’t any good acting. There was oodles upon oodles of 2004 CGI, here in 2019. And we have the same problem of who to root for...the chick toasting civilians? The “true king” who can’t keep his dudes from slaughtering a surrendering army? Did the Mankind vs. Kane Hell in a Cell match have any point whatsoever? Why hadn’t anyone seen True Lies and saved the viewers a bunch of scenes of people getting roasted alive?

youtube

Wouldn’t going True Lies have saved tens of thousands of innocent lives right off the bat? Yes. Yes it would have. But, again, this is hamfisted Weiss and Benioff world where someone goes from disgruntled half-queen to holocaust in zero seconds flat. Sure, there’s some precedent for mental illness in that family line (at least from what I’ve been told), but...c’mon, sow a few more seeds of discord please, storytellers.

The holocaust provided no extra plot advancement that simply burning the Red Keep would have*.

*also it didn’t make sense there weren’t a few of those crossbows on the big castle, but 4/10 would not bang, and all...

***

After every episode, I’ve been salty. The worst was the fight they’d been building up to for 8 seasons...that they chose to film in the dark. And it’s not Boardwalk Empire salty, it’s “you have every resource at your disposal, and creative carte blanche, and THIS is the best you can come up with?”

As if there was any more obviousness to the fact that, without GRRM, the guys running this show are on a Michael Bay-level when it comes to plot development and continuity. Without him leading the way...and I haven’t read any of the books, and realize there’s a bunch of shit that can be slung his way too, so this isn’t an excuse...the show devolved into silliness. Spectacle. There’s none of the nuance and Machiavellianism that made this show legitimately great...it’s literally a fucking Michael Bay movie now...only with worse camera work and CGI.

Last night’s episode was the breaking point. A holocaust, a stupid WWE revenge match, pointless death after pointless death, an emotionally defeated Tyrion, a figuratively-neutered king not being able to control his literally-neutered troops, and a storytelling version of the horror movie girl running up stairs to escape her killer. But the worst part was the character they built up for 7 seasons as an agent of good, spent a few minutes here and there with some existential struggle...and then full holocaust. That turn deserved more scenery and the show would’ve been better off for it.

Think about it...there are only two outcomes now. Either there’s a coup that manages to kill the dragon that just laid waste to the biggest city in this universe, via something likely unexplained yet...or the coup gets toasty by that same dragon. What else could there possibly be?*

*I forgot about Jon being able to ride dragons h/t herd

With Boardwalk Empire I kept going because I was on some quixotic quest to see if there actually was a point. There wasn’t. But I already know that going into the end of GOT so...what’s the point in continuing to watch? Sad.

#game of thrones

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art-of-manliness · 6 years

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5 Pencil and Paper Games (That Aren’t Tic-Tac-Toe)

In a time before people could cure their boredom by looking down at their phone and immediately retreating into an individual silo of entertainment, slaying its specter was often a cooperative exercise, requiring nothing more than a pencil and paper. Even though pen and paper games have been supplanted by phone toggling when it comes to passing the time, it’s still handy to keep a few of them in the back pocket of your brain. These “analog” games come in handy for times when your phone’s out of charge, or when you want to entertain a kid without resorting to handing them a device. Their discreet-ness also makes them useful for work or church meetings where you’re bored out of your skull, but not supposed to be on your phone. Pencil and paper games are an all-around great source of impromptu entertainment, as you’ll almost always have all the supplies needed for their play on hand. When it comes to such games, you surely already know tic-tac-toe (which once you learn how to win, becomes super boring). So here are 5 more pencil and paper games that will help you, and a compatriot, while away the time. Hangman This classic boredom killer is an oldie but a goodie. Hangman can be played with two or more players. Start off by drawing a basic looking gallows. This is where you’ll keep track of incorrect guesses in this game. One person thinks of a word (without telling the other players) and marks out the number of letters in dashes on the paper. The other players take turns guessing letters one at a time. Whenever a player guesses a letter in the word correctly, you write that letter above the corresponding dash. If they guess incorrectly, draw a body part of the hangman on the gallows. Typical order is head, body, right leg, left leg, right arm, left arm, noose. So basically, players have seven chances to guess the correct letters. If a complete hangman is made before the correct word is guessed, the game ends. You can increase the number of chances players get to guess by increasing the number of body parts that are added before the hapless stick victim gets the noose — left eye, right eye, nose, mouth, ears, etc. Just make sure everyone is on the same page as to what constitutes a complete hangman before you start. A player wins the game when they guess the correct word. They can guess the entire word at any point in the game. A wrong word guess also results in a body part added to the hangman. You can write incorrect letter guesses next to the gallows so players can see which letters they’ve already guessed. To make the game harder, don’t list missed letter guesses, and count duplicate wrong guesses against them. Battleship The classic board game (turned terrible movie) actually got its start as a pencil and paper game. The old-school version has the advantage of not needing those annoying little pegs or a manufactured game board, making starting a spontaneous showdown, or playing in the car on a long road trip, much easier. This is a two-player game. Each player creates two 10×10 grids on their piece of paper. Label one grid “My Ships” and the other grid “Enemy Ships.” Label each square on the x-axis 1-10, and each square on the y-axis A-G. Make sure neither player can see the other’s grids. On the “My Ships” grid, each player outlines the five ships that represents their fleet. A fleet consists of the following: * 1 Aircraft Carrier = 5 squares * 1 Battleship = 4 squares * 1 Cruiser = 3 squares * 1 Submarine = 3 squares * 2 Destroyers = 2 squares each Each ship occupies adjacent squares on the grid, horizontally or vertically. No diagonal ships. Here’s an example of a fleet layout you might have: Once each player has drawn out their fleet, the play begins. Players take turns taking shots at their opponent by calling out coordinates of a square. For example, B-10, G-5, D-3. His opponent responds with “Hit!” if a coordinate hits his ship or “Miss!” if it misses. Each player should record their opponent’s shots on the grid labeled “My Ships” and their own shots on the grid labeled “Enemy Ships.” Use “X” to mark misses, and “O” to mark hits. If an opponent hits all the squares in a ship, you must call out the name of the ship (e.g., “You sunk my battleship!”) First player to lose all his ships loses the game. Squares This was a game my brother and I played quite a bit on the back of the paper program at church services. Draw a grid of dots – it can be as large or as small as you want. The larger the grid, the longer the game lasts. 10×10 is good-sized “field of play.” Each player takes a turn drawing a line between two dots. You can connect dots horizontally or vertically. The goal is to create a box. If a player completes the fourth side of a box, he writes his initial in the box. When a player completes a box, he gets another immediate turn to connect the dots. The game is over when the grid has been completely filled with boxes. The player with the most boxes wins. Obstruction This is a two-player game created by Romanian mathematician László Kozma. One player is “O”; the other player is “X.” Create a grid of squares at least 6×6. The larger the grid, the longer the game will go. Each player takes turns writing their mark in one of the squares on the grid. But here’s the catch: You can only mark a square if all of its neighbors (including the diagonal neighbors) are empty. The first player unable to move loses. Here’s an example of a game so you can see play in action: Sprouts Sprouts is another pencil and paper game invented by a math whiz. Actually two: John Horton Conway and Michael Paterson. This is a two-player game. Start off by drawing two or more spots on a sheet of paper. Players take turns according to the following rules: * Draw a line connecting two spots, or loop a line to and from a single spot. The line may be straight or curved, but must not touch or cross itself or any other line. * Add a new spot somewhere along that new line. * No spot may have more than three lines attached to it. The player who makes the last move wins the game, or you could play so that the player who makes the last play loses. The post 5 Pencil and Paper Games (That Aren’t Tic-Tac-Toe) appeared first on The Art of Manliness. http://dlvr.it/QWdwGd

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murphystarr · 7 years

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Healthy Murphy Siblings Facts:

They’ve been having a two-year on-and-off prank war with a lifelike plastic iguana. They hide it in random places for the other to find and get the shit scared out of them. They know it’s found when a loud shriek rings throughout the house, and they laugh until their face gets red and veins pop out on the sides of their heads.

They know each other's Starbucks orders by heart: Connor gets a Venti Iced Caffe Americano with a dash of milk and three Sweet’N Low packets. Zoe gets a Short Caramel Macchiato with a Birthday Cake Pop.

They totally sneak out of the house at 3am to go to Wendy's or Taco Bell. They take their food to the playground by their house and eat on the swings. Usually while they’re still in their pajamas.

Zoe took Connor's phone once and took a bunch of unattractive selfies and put it back without him noticing. Connor did the same a few days later with Zoe’s phone.

Zoe's photo ID in Connor's phone is a picture of her cross eyed, with three chins and her tongue blepped out.

Connor's photo ID in Zoe's phone is a picture of him with his upper lip curled, his nose scrunched up, and his eyes squinted.

Most of their notifications on Facebook are from them tagging each other in stupid memes.

Connor is often the chosen victim of Zoe's Hair Salon™. It was painful at first, but Zoe picked it up really fast and now Connor goes to her willingly for braiding and bitching sessions. He goes to her room pissed off, but leaves a lot calmer and a killer fishtail braid.

Zoe once straightened his hair out of boredom and curiosity. Connor said he'd hide her guitar if she ever mentioned what he looked like to anyone.

They have matching colored streaks in their hair. Zoe’s is out in the open, while Connor’s is underlayered. They play rock-paper-scissors to decide who gets to pick that month’s color.

Connor painted Zoe’s nails for her Homecoming, Prom, and Graduation.

They invented a game called where Nerf meet bocce ball. There’s no scoring or rules, it’s mainly just an excuse to shoot Nerf Guns at the windows.

Zoe steals Connor’s hoodies and flannels during the winter. She says it’s to make up for all the years he stole her nail polish. He doesn’t complain.

They watch a lot of Food Network even when they can’t cook at all. They love Good Eats, Cake Wars, and Chopped.

When they’re both home from college Connor takes Zoe out to breakfast and they talk about stuff that they can’t get across over text or the phone.

Connor trusts Zoe with things that he can’t tell their dad.

Zoe trusts Connor with things she can’t tell their mom.

Just

Murphy siblings trusting each other and making up for lost time.

#Dear Evan Hansen #Connor Murphy #Zoe Murphy #Murphy Siblings #deh #connor #zoe #my headcanons

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healthnotion · 6 years

Text

5 Pencil and Paper Games (That Aren’t Tic-Tac-Toe)

Even though pen and paper games have been supplanted by phone toggling when it comes to passing the time, it’s still handy to keep a few of them in the back pocket of your brain. These “analog” games come in handy for times when your phone’s out of charge, or when you want to entertain a kid without resorting to handing them a device. Their discreet-ness also makes them useful for work or church meetings where you’re bored out of your skull, but not supposed to be on your phone. Pencil and paper games are an all-around great source of impromptu entertainment, as you’ll almost always have all the supplies needed for their play on hand.

When it comes to such games, you surely already know tic-tac-toe (which once you learn how to win, becomes super boring). So here are 5 more pencil and paper games that will help you, and a compatriot, while away the time.

Hangman

This classic boredom killer is an oldie but a goodie.

Hangman can be played with two or more players.

Start off by drawing a basic looking gallows. This is where you’ll keep track of incorrect guesses in this game.

One person thinks of a word (without telling the other players) and marks out the number of letters in dashes on the paper.

The other players take turns guessing letters one at a time. Whenever a player guesses a letter in the word correctly, you write that letter above the corresponding dash.

If they guess incorrectly, draw a body part of the hangman on the gallows. Typical order is head, body, right leg, left leg, right arm, left arm, noose. So basically, players have seven chances to guess the correct letters. If a complete hangman is made before the correct word is guessed, the game ends. You can increase the number of chances players get to guess by increasing the number of body parts that are added before the hapless stick victim gets the noose — left eye, right eye, nose, mouth, ears, etc. Just make sure everyone is on the same page as to what constitutes a complete hangman before you start.

A player wins the game when they guess the correct word. They can guess the entire word at any point in the game. A wrong word guess also results in a body part added to the hangman.

You can write incorrect letter guesses next to the gallows so players can see which letters they’ve already guessed. To make the game harder, don’t list missed letter guesses, and count duplicate wrong guesses against them.

Battleship

The classic board game (turned terrible movie) actually got its start as a pencil and paper game. The old-school version has the advantage of not needing those annoying little pegs or a manufactured game board, making starting a spontaneous showdown, or playing in the car on a long road trip, much easier.

This is a two-player game.

Each player creates two 10×10 grids on their piece of paper. Label one grid “My Ships” and the other grid “Enemy Ships.” Label each square on the x-axis 1-10, and each square on the y-axis A-G.

Make sure neither player can see the other’s grids.

On the “My Ships” grid, each player outlines the five ships that represents their fleet.

A fleet consists of the following:

1 Aircraft Carrier = 5 squares

1 Battleship = 4 squares

1 Cruiser = 3 squares

1 Submarine = 3 squares

2 Destroyers = 2 squares each

Each ship occupies adjacent squares on the grid, horizontally or vertically. No diagonal ships.

Here’s an example of a fleet layout you might have:

Once each player has drawn out their fleet, the play begins. Players take turns taking shots at their opponent by calling out coordinates of a square. For example, B-10, G-5, D-3.

His opponent responds with “Hit!” if a coordinate hits his ship or “Miss!” if it misses. Each player should record their opponent’s shots on the grid labeled “My Ships” and their own shots on the grid labeled “Enemy Ships.” Use “X” to mark misses, and “O” to mark hits.

If an opponent hits all the squares in a ship, you must call out the name of the ship (e.g., “You sunk my battleship!”)

First player to lose all his ships loses the game.

Squares

This was a game my brother and I played quite a bit on the back of the paper program at church services.

Draw a grid of dots – it can be as large or as small as you want. The larger the grid, the longer the game lasts. 10×10 is good-sized “field of play.”

Each player takes a turn drawing a line between two dots. You can connect dots horizontally or vertically. The goal is to create a box. If a player completes the fourth side of a box, he writes his initial in the box. When a player completes a box, he gets another immediate turn to connect the dots.

The game is over when the grid has been completely filled with boxes. The player with the most boxes wins.

Obstruction

This is a two-player game created by Romanian mathematician László Kozma.

One player is “O”; the other player is “X.”

Create a grid of squares at least 6×6. The larger the grid, the longer the game will go.

Each player takes turns writing their mark in one of the squares on the grid. But here’s the catch: You can only mark a square if all of its neighbors (including the diagonal neighbors) are empty.

The first player unable to move loses.

Here’s an example of a game so you can see play in action:

Sprouts

Sprouts is another pencil and paper game invented by a math whiz. Actually two: John Horton Conway and Michael Paterson.

This is a two-player game. Start off by drawing two or more spots on a sheet of paper.

Players take turns according to the following rules:

Draw a line connecting two spots, or loop a line to and from a single spot. The line may be straight or curved, but must not touch or cross itself or any other line.

Add a new spot somewhere along that new line.

No spot may have more than three lines attached to it.

The player who makes the last move wins the game, or you could play so that the player who makes the last play loses.

The post 5 Pencil and Paper Games (That Aren’t Tic-Tac-Toe) appeared first on The Art of Manliness.

5 Pencil and Paper Games (That Aren’t Tic-Tac-Toe) published first on https://mensproblem.tumblr.com

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farooqbhutto · 5 years

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Dead Age: Zombie Adventure & Shooting Game 1.00 Apk Mod latest

Dead Age: Zombie Adventure & Shooting Game 1.00 Apk Mod latest is a Role Playing Android game

Download last version Dead Age: Zombie Adventure & Shooting Game Apk Mod For Android with direct link

Dead Age: Zombie Adventure & Shooting Game is a Role Playing android game made by FunKillerGames that you can install on your android devices an enjoy !

Defend your city against waves zombies in this totally new arcade survival shooting game with totally unique cartoon style! Download DEAD AGE for free!Game Features: – Unlock 6 epic heroes and bring smash death to zombies! – Over +210 extreme upgrade options help you become a pro killer! – Unique and outstanding graphics style! – Enjoy extreme power-ups and experience shooting time as a zombie hunter! – Protect your hideout from numbers of enormous waves that come to you as tsunami! – Set your nerve to the highest level and deal with different zombie types! – Choose your target – aim to heads! – Use your hunter’s brain to get rid of the zombies – choose your weapon wisely! – Discover the world, where no plant can live!Make your way through a horde of evil zombies in the best arcade game of this year! Get back to 2012 and discover what happened with people that died because of dangerous virus!

DEADLY WAVES OF ZOMBIES! Waiting one hour on the front line seems like ages. When your world is overrun by the walking dead, there’s only one thing left to do… kill them all! There is no way to escape from the hell! Ensure that you are safe in a hideout and the key to that is to survive the siege. It can’t be the last chapter of your diary – don’t let zombies breach into your shelter! Don’t let zombies dash closer and keep your base safe! Do your best to shoot as many zombies as you can to the last standing one! Use your hunter’s brain to think as a sniper before the attack!

6 UNIQUE CHARACTERS! It doesn’t matter what your hero age is… prove your courage starting your adventure as typical truant Colin – he was ditching school almost every day. Now it’s the only safe place he knows… how ironic! Do you know Lucy? Oh, she may look terrified and defenseless, but she has an exceptionally strong will to survive. Let us also introduce Horace – before zombies came, he was shooting empty bottles out of boredom. Now he has to kill zombies. His rifle hits hard but slow. There is also Jack! His whole squad was killed in an ambush. Now he decided to defend what’s left. Willie – He was getting rid of troublemakers at his bar. Makes no difference to him if they’re dead zombies now. Use his old, reliable shotgun weapon. At least there is Hawk to unlock. Don’t you know that she was the leader of the anti-zombie squad and now she’s fighting for her life like anyone else?

UPGRADE YOUR HERO! Increase your weapon’s range and projectile velocity. Upgrade your ammo cap that determines how many times you can shoot before reload. Reduce the time you have to spend on reloading your weapons and help yourself with constant shooting effect. Be aware of your critical power – increase the amount of damage dealt by a critical hit and its chance! A single precise shot can trigger a boost that can save you at the right time. Use grenades to decimate your opponents! Boost the base damage output of your murderous weapon. Aim wisely – you don’t have too much time to miss the target! Zombie waves move really quickly!

OUTSTANDING GRAPHICS DEAD AGE: Zombie Defense FREE combines stunning visuals and sound with breathtaking gameplay. Enjoy well-considered world settings and show what you are made of! Get ready for the most addictive shooting game of 2017!

Have your last stand against the enemies of humanity. Download and play DEAD AGE: Zombie Defense FREE now for FREE!

Dead Age: Zombie Adventure & Shooting Game Apk Mod

Google Play

The post Dead Age: Zombie Adventure & Shooting Game 1.00 Apk Mod latest appeared first on Miss Android.

from WordPress https://www.missandroid.com/dead-age-zombie-adventure-shooting-game.apk

#Games #Role Playing

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mechahero · 29 days

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//leaning into the 2000s aesthetics going on with lambda by messing around in archival sites for old dollmakers

#//two of these ended up on his ic blog #//the rest were for the heck of it #//spent literal hours putting these together though lol #//especially that computer one #//worth it though bc these turned out great #//btw if you want the links to these let me know in the replies and i'll send you them!#boredom killer {dash games}

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mechahero · 3 months

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design a tea for your muse

tagged by: @gayroomate (ty!!) tagging: @demonsfate, @electricea, @earthforsaken (for any of your muses if you want to do it!), and @outofthiisworld

#//i guess his looks a little more like coffee #//roll with it though #//this is the closest to seeing skip so far outside being mentioned and stuff lol #boredom killer {dash games}

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mechahero · 3 months

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How Fandom Would See You If You Were A Fictional Character

Dumbass

You're trying your best, you really are, but you just might need to put a little more thought into your thought process. You really shouldn't jump off that many buildings, eat that many strange glowing substances, or trust that many evil witches. But hey, we love you anyways.

#//WELL I MEAN... YEAH #//yeah it's not really wrong #//he is a bit of a dodo and i mean that affectionately #boredom killer {dash games}#//swiped this from boo lol

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mechahero · 3 months

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would you still love him if he was a worm (on a string)? (picrew link)

#//since everyone else on my dash is doing it might as well join in!#//worm lambda worm lambda worm #boredom killer {dash games}

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mechahero · 5 months

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muse aesthetics!!

instructions: bold what applies to your muse. repost, do not reblog!

tagged by: @demonsfate (ty!!) tagging: @electricea, @earthforsaken (bulma if you want :3c), @pzfr, @outofthiisworld (sofia for a curveball?)

#//EATS THIS EATS THIS EATS THIS #//DELICIOUS #//btw multis! its just a suggestion you don't have to do it for that specific muse #//you can pick whatever one you want if you feel like it lmao #//got so excited when i saw the first row like you have no idea #//this was fun i had fun with this!#boredom killer {dash games}

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