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Isn't there like, a section for this, or something? I mean, not to be an asshole like I really want to be, because I'm actually a huge asshole, but seriously.
God fucking crackers, I knew that game was going to be good, and now I have to pull $60.oo out of my ass.
Looks like that's it. Poll goes up tomorrow, contest is closed!
See, that's your problem right there, I don't share my alcohol.
. . . Wow.
Eh . . . We kind of have one of those already, and by plus, it's not moderated by the site's Staff, and site rules do not apply. The catch is, it's on Skype, and you'd have to be added to the group. Still, if you really want a site chat, moderated by Staff and all, you can suggest it.
I am a little . . . late on this, but I guess that's alright . . . This is all great, and since PS3 games aren't region locked, even if there isn't an international release (which I am so hoping for), getting the games should be a piece of cake. I can definitely see the clarity in the HD and some of the subtle model differences, such as Riku's eyes and maybe the color of his hair. As for the 'theatrical' 358/2 Days, I'm looking forward to that; it'll be interesting to see how smoothly they transition the scenes. I think that they're doing a bit of a good thing with the browser game, not making it so integrated into the story, maybe it can gain more fans of the series that way. Clever guys. . . . We're never getting Kingdom Hearts III.
. . . I feel a little bad, but mine was Final Fantasy XIII. It was really the first one that I had heard about from the television, any of the other ones, I think I was too young. I'm not too sure about playing the other Final Fantasy games because it really doesn't seem like my bad, but I'm not completely adverse to giving them a try.
For anyone who still wishes to enter, do so before midnight CST; the contest will be closed after that point.
My Little Pony was a bit of an unexpected phenomenon, but once it became something with the Internet, hentai, rule 34, and the like were bound to happen to it. It's inevitable for anything to be popular and not have the less-than-savory become tied to it. People have their . . . likes, and I guess whatever makes them happy.
Since I don't know you that well, I have nothing fancy to give you. Happy birthday, Moshi.
My mom likes people to call her Elly, instead of Eleanor. Sophie, alternatively Sophia. I'm partial to Elizabeth, Samantha, Claire, and Serenity.
Unenthusiastic bump.
Okay, great. ♥
I support this, please do.
Holy crap, did you really draw this? This is amazing. I was never very good with watercolors, I never liked the way they meshed, but the color palette you used here is wonderful, and I especially like the hair and the eyes. I'm no good at critiquing art, but I really like this, a lot.
Hi. I was wondering if it was okay that I use a different instrumental than the one that was given to me. Is that okay?
A short story through the mind of Riku, and his thoughts on what has happened since he left his home. Spoiler: Reflection The glossy surface of the white pod was clear and pristine, and made it easy to not only see the sleeping hero within, but the darker stain in its reflection. Silent steps echoed through the white and cylindrical room, moving away from the pod, and it became clear and untainted once again. With just a few steps, the snowy surface would become filthy once again. How amazing it was that something so corrupting could exist, that with one careless move, it could eat you up, tear you apart, destroy you. It was a kind of poison, one that was not to be taken lightly. A killer? Not so much. As he saw it, it was like curiosity's partner; that's what happened with Xehanort, right? He was curious, and so he experimented. It didn't turn out very well; now he was the threat of all worlds, but he'd been curious, and he had influence from the poison. There it was, that familiar feeling; ice filling his veins, circulating through his body rapidly. Within the last year, he had gained a deep sort of intimacy, if you will, with this feeling. His gloved hand went over his heart, his whole body now feeling sickeningly cold. Riku had been curious, too. During the times when he had solitude, which were extremely few and far between these days, he pondered on his decision to explore world away from his home, from his small island. He knew they were out there, and he wanted to see them, but thinking back on it, maybe a raft set into the middle of the ocean with little supplies wasn't his best idea. Then again, neither were a lot of his decisions within the last year and a half. He was fifteen when he left Destiny Islands, and within all of that time, it felt like so many more years had past, like he should be older. Only five times did he interact with Sora that the latter was conscious of, but every time was just as bad as the last, when he looked back on the memories. The rest of the time he had seen Sora was when he was traveling, and when he had been asleep. He had matured so much since then. It seemed . . . unfair. He looked back up at the egg-shaped pod with his friend inside of it. His clothes were growing a little small on him. While mulling over his hero-friend, the sick feeling was melting away and his muscles were growing relaxed from their previously tense and tight state. Sora was the type of person who would smile no matter what bad was taking place. He was a pure entity within the universe, a source of strong light. Unbeatable, really, because Sora was something special. During these times, he had to be strong; they all did. He looked away from the pod. It wasn't some sort of game – the threat of the darkness enveloping the universe was very real, and every being was at risk. With that sort of knowledge, it would take a toll even on Sora, strong as he was. The first time they met in Traverse Town after separation, it was surprising. It wasn't a very obvious difference to spot, either, but he had known Sora long enough . . . His spirits had fallen a little since then and he looked of slight sleep deprivation. That's when Riku knew, at that moment, despite the differences that they had discovered after, that they were no longer children, and this was no longer just a game. How could he have let himself be manipulated so easily? By a woman like Maleficent, no less. The strain of a leather glove quietly filled the room. The feeling in his stomach was deep, twisting . . . He felt sick. A woman like her, she was the most vile kind, but clever. Oh, was she clever. He could never blame anyone but himself, but she had a part to play for his having to wear a blindfold in order to not be stuck in that . . . form. The pacing started. By now, he was already used to that body, but it wasn't too great. Being too tall, having too long limbs, a deeper voice, and different skin, eyes, and hair . . . It was a testament to no longer being himself, to no longer being the real him. A feeling of heaviness began to reign over him and he stopped. An ugly coldness filled his body again, but it wasn't the poison, it was his own feelings; he wanted to be away from that body, be back to normal. He couldn't do that, however – not that he would let himself. This was his punishment. They are such vulnerable things, after all. Hearts . . . So easily damaged, stolen, broken – if one doesn't have the proper defense or strong will. He didn't have a strong will. A swell in his chest started to augment, his throat began to tighten up. Although all he could see was black, spots began to spawn, and his head grew light. He needed to leave this room, before he got sick. For the longest time after the events of being trapped on the wrong side of the Door to Darkness, his mind and memories were the bane of his existence – not to mention Ansem, Seeker of Darkness' continuous torture and provocation. It all plagued him, and the amount of Riku's regret was magnanimous. He was in constant wonder if he would ever be forgiven by anyone, or by himself. Were it not for a particular King, he would have given up to the darkness long ago. At the thought, he steadied up, took a deep breath, and began to slowly pace again. To say the least, it was . . . difficult to continue going, but to stop, he knew, was selfish. His friend would never give up, not even after the last breath, and in as a friendly manner as possible, he wasn't going to to let that goof show him up. Before he could get caught up in the days of the past, his mind rotated to the future. Now his task had been set before him; one very important Nobody was the last piece needed to awaken the hero to save all of the worlds from the looming threat that was Organization XIII. It was his job to bring said Nobody home – the reason for his wearing a coat of the enemy. He had observed his and the other members of that group, and there had been a time or two when he actually fooled one of the them; a blonde one named Demyx. He was just about as dense as Sora could be. He would be a real piece of work to deal with. From what he could tell, unlike Sora, he was pessimistic, stubborn, and very, very feisty. Still, he had to admit there were similarities, and since he was his Nobody, it almost seemed like he possessed real emotions – and Riku wouldn't have doubted it if he really did, despite DiZ constantly reminding him that Nobodies were not human, and therefore could not possess emotion for lack of a heart. He didn't know what would happen after he was finished with the job, but from the little that DiZ told him, he would be ejected into a digital simulation of Twilight Town, and would then reunite with Sora. A sigh quietly sounded; he felt bad for the Nobody named Roxas; when one finds that all of their memories are a lie, and that they weren't supposed to exist, what are they supposed to say, think? But it would all be for the best, in the end. He stopped, just feet away from the pod, having no desire to be closer. His stomach even churned at the thought, and his head tilted down. A heaviness fell on his shoulders, weighed in on his mind; shame. This would be, too. He would have to hide from Sora in an dubious manner, watch his progress from world to world, and manage the side-battles when he had to . . . It would all be necessary for Sora to keep going. At least, that is how DiZ explained it. Sora's first goal of many was to see his friends again, he said, and that was enough drive for him to get past the Heartless and Nobodies that he would be confronted with, for him to put himself in greater danger with every step he took. His face contorted into a heavy frown, his fists tightened up. He knew that DiZ was using Sora to his own advantage because he had that air of him; the one clouded with revenge. He relaxed now; as far a he was concerned, so long as Kairi wasn't dragged into the mess and Sora wasn't going to die, he was just a servant to all. He was a worker behind the scenes as the main characters played their roles and said their lines right, and so long as they did their jobs, he would do his. He went up to the pod again and raised his hand to touch the glass. Even through the glove, could he really connect? Just before his fingertips met the surface, the heaviness returned and he stopped immediately. His stomach dropped and he withdrew his hand. He couldn't touch it. The hood of the black cloak raised over his head, the body turned away from the pod, and footsteps carried it out of the room. There was quite a bit to do, and even though he was in pain, it wasn't undeserved, and he would not let it get in his way. They were going to meet the end that was set before them.
