People often talk about the "dadification" of games, which I suspect is at least partially a function of a workforce that is aging and a medium that is aging with it. I mean aging in the sense of a casked liquor. I don't mean aging in demonstrable progression of decrepitude sense, but know this: the grave awaits us all. Purely in terms of time spent there, it's not even a contest; the tomb is the truest home of man.
I have the last four pages of Nurse Normal's Jonaari opus, Never Mind That for you right here. Pages 1-6 and here, pages 7-12 are here, and pages 13-16 are below:
We actually wrote this comic before it was announced that the guided missile was being shelved indefinitely. They have a pretty aggressive schedule over there.
If I'm going to commit to a Wargame, it has to present itself to me as a place where stories happen.
Almost exactly 10 years ago someone literally had to pay me to play Dungeons & Dragons. Whatever impression I had of the game before that, it was the wrong one. Within a week of playing Jim Darkmagic for the first time I was on the phone with Jerry asking what books I needed to buy in order to be a dungeon master.
I've only been to San Francisco twice, if I recall correctly, and the second time - the now that I am currently inhabiting - is only nominally San Franciskian. I have a layover here that could comfortably accommodate a Norse saga.
It's pretty rare that we engage in dreaded continuity on the Make-A-Strip Stage, but we're bold gentlemen untroubled by convention.
It's gonna take me a bit to get used to this "show starts on Thursday" thing. Here's the strip.
One of the most humbling things about Acquisitions Incorporated and The "C" Team in particular is how much fan work it seems to generate. One enthusiast, Nurse Normal, has created a lot of work that I know we just think of a canonical.
I grew up quite Churchy, for lack of a better term; eventually I couldn't square some of the concepts. Then religion was simply the casualty of a mother who wanted her son to remain alive and a son who thought he was smarter than every other living person.
Far Cry 5's Hope County is a fallen place in desperate need of liberation, and one of the ways you know this is that occasionally a person will be tied up, muttering to themselves, and you can press X to LIBERATE them.
I feel like this one happened kinda fast. Soon we'll arrive at a point where we can power our societies with the rise and fall of the heroes we create and destroy. If we're going to continue in our effort to transform the Earth into a perpetual reality show, we've only begun to witness the grotesquerie. The effort to annihilate Ninja hasn't been mounted with the same vigor as previous campaigns, they have instead mounted a sumptuous, nuanced narrative, possibly because sites have done everything possible to associate themselves with his rise.
We used to play on Dark Iron. I introduced it in that way so that people who knew what the phrase meant had a moment to value their secret knowledge, but that's a PVP server in WoW. In a song off The Impossible Kid, Aesop Rock describes an environment so uncivilized that it's possible to catch rabies simply by walking to your mailbox and that's exactly the kind of place it was.
Maybe a decade or so ago, somebody launched an AM radio station that supposedly catered to "my" biases as opposed to the biases of a nefarious and scheming other. I could only listen to it for about five minutes before I had to turn it off. Being force-fed my own beliefs only makes me question them. This is more or less how I feel when I watch a trailer for Ready Player One.