It still does weird me out that you guys are all real folk also.
Speaking of that. Where were you?
You're missing his point. What I pulled from his post was that you're being a hair splitting little ankle biter who should just learn tact and relevance analysis.
Budget: The Show
Lost another attempt to reply. I nearly just gave up, but I'll start small and work my way through it slowly this time. Maybe then I'll get at least something down even if it's more than ten degrees separated from what I actually mean. To be perfectly clear. I feel that world building is what setting should be about. By that meri setting isn't about whether or not this story is in space or in a quiet Elizabethan township or magical ****ing Tokyo. Setting is world, it's place, it's themes and it's atmosphere. All of my descriptions and answers revolve around the idea that setting is not a physical location at all, it is the extent of the story's universe and by that merit more related to ideas. In theory, we can have two completely physically different places that are the same setting. Sure the physical matters to a certain extent because it defines how far certain limits can extend but it's not by any means the main event. So I'm going to get out of that single element in world building and work outside of sights, smells, sounds and minutiae like that and try to take the long view.
Spoiler: Day 1 - Morning The rays of morning light splayed themselves weakly over the uneven tiled floor, reaching feebly for the foot of the lumpy purple clothed bed but inevitably failing as always. But in the shadows of ever newer and taller building projects, this was the best one could hope for. The purple sheets rustled as a small device began shaking and screaming up a storm. Within seconds the small plastic brick was silent once more. After some silence and some rolling about, the room's sole occupant made her presence visible. She had three colors of hair sharply changing in layers from bottle blonde at the bottom to dull gold in the middle to rich caramel about the topmost. She looked across the floor to the dirty cracked mirror and frowned. “I look like shit.” Without a second thought she stood, slung a towel over her shoulder, picked up a bag filled with plastic bottles and soaps, stalked into the hallway and then the bathroom, turned on the shower and stopped thinking about all of the things she had to be doing for twenty minutes under the icy droplets she took rather than pay for coffee or a heating bill. Far from refreshed but undeniably more awake she returned to her room to dress and pack. She had to be at the office at eight, the restaurant and noon and the school at six. She had just enough room in her messenger bag to stuff a neatly folded uniform a file binder and a few books. She looked in the mirror again. “Passable.” The dull echoing clack of her flats against the slowly peeling, composite tiles as she crossed the room and traversed the hallways of the apartment served as a reminder of how alone she was this early in the morning. In short order she joined the dregs of the night shift and the vanguard of the day on the streets. There were fewer people at this time of day than you'd see at any other time in the city. It was almost refreshing, until she climbed the stairs onto the University Shuttle and flashed her ID. “Today is gonna be another zinger.” The ten sets of eyes flashed up to meet her gaze for half an instant before dropping back down to their smart phones. She edged past Mr. Josef Basche, the portly Janitor/Busker/Comic Artist and took a seat next to Miss Ramona Freely an undergraduate TA/full time student/aspiring YouTube celebrity. The trichromatic haired girl pulled a book from her bag and began reading. For the next ten minutes she lost herself in the exploits of a daring young lad on and adventure to restore the kingdom of Antalk to its former dragon riding glory. It was typical time filling trash fantasy, but it was better than her life, so she read on until she was stepping off the bus onto the cracked sidewalk of the university, staring at her current place of study in the fine arts house as she stowed her book away glumly. “It's only until work starts.” She took a moment to arrange her hair by the reflection in the front door's windows before entering. She hardly had to dress in full business casual to do her research but she had noticed that just dressing like a normal human made her look like an undergrad that everyone was allowed to ignore. The extra effort in dressing herself up made up for itself in the time she didn't have to spend tapping her foot and waiting for someone to, “have time,” for her. When she got to her desk, she was greeted by a particularly unwelcome face. “Hello, Mark.” She smiled. If she was good at anything, it'd have to be smiling. She could smile whenever she wanted and look as genuine and natural as the real deal. “Hey.” Now Mark was, is and forever shall be scum. A worthless neckbeard with delusions of grandeur. If he ever gets a wife it will be an abusive relationship one way or the other. And suddenly he begins his trademark ****** lean. Arm parallel to the ground, planted firmly on the nearest wall just above her head level in a mockery of nonchalance so he can take the opportunity to shove his face into hers and attempt not so surreptitiously staring down her blouse. Not that he could with it buttoned up and covered with a sweater vest, but that didn't seem to stop him from trying. It was almost sickening. “How are you?” She asked pleasantly. “Cards lost last night.” He moaned. “That's too bad. Won't be watching the playoffs then?” Making small talk was a strong point of hers. One she wished did not exist. If she was awkward and incapable a speaking without putting her foot in her mouth no one would bother with her and she wouldn't look like she was being rude. “Of course I'm gonna still watch the playoffs, gotta see if the team that beat them gets their due.” He went on. Perfect. “Oh. Well, I hope they do.” When he saw the girl trying to pass him and reach the stairs Mark flung his free arm across the hall rather dully and tried to resuscitate the stillborn conversation. “Yeah, so you doing anything Friday night?” “I've got work. I've always got work. Bills won't pay themselves.” She smiled apologetically. “Right, you live alone now, don't you?” “I've got roommates. Lots of roommates.” “Seeya around then.” “Disgusting.” She breathed venomously the second he'd rounded a corner. Without another thought she began her walk up the spiral staircase to the library. Upon entering her destination, she saw her boss. Professor Roddingham, a man in his late forties, still single, still searching. He greeted her formally and gave her the day's assignments. Before and after class she had to alphabetize some books and update the new arrivals into the database. Nothing difficult. That's why she had chosen to put her degrees in English and art history towards library science. She only had to deal with books, computers and the occasional librarian. For the most part, it was a dream job. She already knew SQL, she already knew how to script, she already read half the books in the library and she already knew the history of the world from 6000 BCE to 1980 CE. Getting the degree and doing the internship was almost a matter of going through the motions. “Good.” The professor concluded. “I hope you have a good day, happy hunting.” “Thank you. I will see you later.” She sighed and started to work. And work. And work. Silently, diligently, tirelessly. She continued on until her class for which she left for three hours and promptly returned from. In her final hours at the library she finished up her progress report and left it on Roddingham's desk. He'd pick it up and read it in a few hours and sigh as always. She was a bright girl he always said to his colleagues and other interns. She was capable and driven. More so that anyone he'd ever seen. He told her time after time that it'd be better if she would quit her other jobs and stay at the internship all day but she would always reply, “Stacking books isn't paying the bills yet and with all due respect I don't see you replacing me.”
Redstone is what conducts electricity. It's what allows digital logic to occur in Minecraft.
Good day, prostitutes and sexually loose individuals.
The game is worthless without redstone. It's what makes anything worth doing possible. Everything else is an unmitigated waste of time. Monument building is for children and adventuring hasn't become a legit thing. There were some hacks but let's be honest, they're not that cool.
1) Do you understand logic gates? y/n If yes, then procure game and have fun. If no, go to question 2. 2) Do you want to understand logic gates? y/n If yes, then procure game and have fun. If no, don't get this game.
Reply in quote. Spoiler: here “Aliya, you're going to be late.” Emilia called from the door. From underneath her straight brown fringe her mischievous eyes peeked into the house. She was welcome to step through the open door and she knew it well but she would instead always wait patiently by the front door for her friend to make her way down. For some unknown reason she seemed to take pleasure in it. Another thing that might always remain a mystery. “I know, I know.” Aliya was about two inches shorter than Emi and always running about ten minutes behind her. As long as she'd known Emi, she'd known what it felt like to follow. Emi was always the leader and even now she was taking the time to lead her to school. Not that Aliya minded. They were friends, best friends, Aliya reminded herself. Emi stole a glance at her watch and began prodding further. “Like you're not going to make it at all late. Like standing outside the classroom with buckets late. Like--” “Alright, I'm here.” Aliya huffed, her sweater hanging slightly askew on her small shoulders. Emi took the time to straighten it and brush a few of Aliya's curls into place before motioning that she follow. Yes, that was Emi. Always leading her on. “What was taking you?” The taller girl chirped gleefully. She seemed to already have an idea of her own. “Let's just go, okay?” Aliya picked up her pace and tried to pass her fellow. She didn't want to admit that she'd overslept because she was up late staring at some less than wholesome images online. “Problematic problems plaguing people's perfectly panoramic and picturesquely pleasant... um... partnership? Painting? Pedaling? Peregrination!” She shouted clapping her fist down into her open palm triumphantly. “That was a nine combo. That's a daily record!” “No, I don't have a problem. I just overslept.” Aliya groused in the wake of her friend's jubilation. “Depressed people oversleep a lot. Are you depressed?” Emi stared at her with her head just tilted enough to make her look goofy rather than quizzical. “No. I'm fine. Seriously, fine as a fiddle.”Aliya continued to brush her off. “The saying is 'fit as a fiddle', my sadly uncultured comrade in arms.” Sighed Emi who then crossed her arms and began making tut tut tut sounds whilst wagging a disapproving finger. “Well excuse me, princess.” “A lowly knave such as I, called a princess by one so lofty as thou? Forsooth! I shall make haste to--” “Okay, no more old English.” “Modern English.” Emi corrected again. “Shakespeare and Elizabeth were Modern English. “You know it is possible for you to go like five minutes without correcting me.” “That would imply you'd be able to go five minutes without the need.” She grinned. “I'm not a child.” “Never said you were. Come on. When did this become not fun?” “It's not that it's not fun talking to you, I just do see why you need to be such a know it all about everything I say.” “Maybe if you listened more you'd know it all too. Way I see it, you spend way too much time on the surfer webs catching net waves with your cyber punks.” “How old are you again?” “I'm younger than you by a whole month plus two.” “And yet you talk about the internet like it's some kind of new invention. Like it's magic.” “I only trust things I understand and the face-y spaces and Mycenaean books just weird me out. They give me a veritable case of the heebie jeebies. So it's the good old fashioned library for me.” “Everything at the library is online.” “And yet I'm the know it all?” “It's 'cause you do nothing but show off.” “And you don't tell me all that stuff about your ewe chewb and fumbler at all or how I should make sure my computer is plugged in or something.” “Alright, alright. I do sometimes get on you for not knowing about the digital age, but who could blame me? It's the whole world against you.” “I do. And I firmly believe that there are other people out there just like me. Just waiting for the solar flare.” “You're living in the bronze age, Emi. Just try it, you might like it.” “Not until I can get you to read a book. A real one. Not Tweedlight or Lonesome Wendigo Boy. A classic like 1984 or Oliver Twist.” “You know all that stuff is boring.” “1984 is my favorite...” “Well, I'll see you at lunch.” “It's a good book! It changed my life!” Got a bit lazy at the second half but my whole point was to create a rather drab character anyways. She can't be too cool or likable from the start. She should be a fungus character. One who grows on you in spite of the fact that you didn't like her at the start.
Got zero notifications.
Airi won't be a generic loli robot alien.
I liked Xiuhtecuhtli the best.
At least you've never grabbed onto a stranger and held onto them the whole time. Unless you have.
Not picky. Law abiding. You should consider being that way as well.
Ah, old usernames. I've actually gotten sort of attached to this one. Still probably changing it the second I get the chance. 2007: Trogdor (It was 2007 and it was for some reason still unused) 2008: Jiku Neon (it's from a Hayate no Gotoku joke page that read something to the tune of, "JIKU NEON! All your neons are belong to me!") 2010: Rhymenocerous (someone asked for a Rhymenocerous to their Hiphopopotamus) 2010: Jiku Neon (site hacked, stuff happened, name reverted) 2011: Rebecca Black (frivolous name change that I got just because I could at the time) 2011: Jiku Neon (No way in hell was I keeping Rebecca Black once I found out it was possible to revert a change, come on folks)
It is more that I've heard this kind of thing with a serious tone so many times that I've started to get used to that more than its humorous counterpart.
No. Having an opinion is forming a view or judgment on something. Liking one thing over another is having an opinion. What he's doing is telling other people not to have an opinion. I find the fact that you feel that having opinions entails devaluing those of others is somewhat saddening.
So this is your way of saying, "Stop liking what I don't like!"
