Today, I’ve been having problems with a particular hunting quest. This mother fucker right here, Khezu:
Its attacks include: stunlocking you on the reg, sapping like three-quarters of your life with attacks that clearly missed by a mile, and just generally killing me a lot and pissing me off.
Originally, I was going to post this screencap and say, “YEAH I BEAT HIM! I BEAT HIM…in a training battle that has no bearing on my in-game progress.” And then physically demolish my PSP in an instantly-regrettable fit of rage.
But then, something magical happened. A slow, plodding, dull as shit battle that took forever and was just me running in circles, stopping to hit it in the head once, then running away again. But I killed it. And now I can get back to doing exciting things and having a good time.
I’ve been busy these last couple of days. And by “busy,” I mean listening to a lot of Danzig (I’m very partial to ogling at him in his early “skinny scene kid wearing anime t-shirts fronting The Misfits” days) and making fun of dumb nerds on Twitter sincerely posting in the #GamerGate hashtag (long story short: some game sites got mad at shitty gamers constantly harassing Zoe Quinn and Anita Sarkeesian and gamers are predictably throwing a childish temper tantrum about it and my “make Twitter jokes” sense started going off hardcore). I’ve also fallen for the Monster Hunter hype. Monster Hunter 3 is currently on sale on the 3DS store for twenty bones, but my SD card doesn’t have enough space to play the demo. Then I remembered, “oh yeah, that’s right! I have a copy of Monster Hunter Freedom Unite on PSP that I’ve owned for years but never made a whole lot of progress in.” So I just played that instead and I’ve been digging hard on it.
This is my character at the beginning of the game. He ran around in a thong killing monsters.
And this is after killing a ton of monsters. He looks really cool now.
If any of the handheld games had online multiplayer that you didn’t have to perform arcane, Satanic rituals to access, I would post all my skills and stats and whatnot. Although there isn’t much in the way of a “skill set” other than I prefer using Long Swords to other weapons.
It’s lunch time. My co-worker and I have decided to go out for some fast food today, as a change of pace. We left at 1:15 p.m, and we have to be back before 1:45. Not a lot of time to really sit down and take it easy, but, I suppose, it’s the life of the wage slave. And considering that we’ve driven around this parking lot at least five times looking for a spot, our time is even more precious.
My partner is a nice young lady from the rich part of town. She’s young, and has that air of perfect confidence that comes from having money and having men drool over you like tired dogs. She’s not stuck-up or anything like that, thankfully, and we can keep one another sane in an otherwise insane place of business. Of course, by “keep each other sane,” I mean, “constantly bicker at one another like an old couple.” Which is what we’re doing right now.
Like I said, she’s a very confident person, which is hilarious when I watch her become a bundle of frayed nerves behind the wheel of an automobile. I point to an empty parking space directly in front us. She freaks out.
“Park there. No, there! Look, right where I’m pointing!”
She turns the corner instead, passing awful close to another vehicle. “No! Ah, fuck. Fuck! You douchebag…”
“Where are you going? It was right there! And hey, don’t call me a douchebag.”
“Shut up and help me find a spot!”
I can barely compose myself here. I’m barely able to get out any words in my state of dumbfoundedness. That’s a word, right? “I…I just…holy fuck. I just told you where to go! And then you called me a douchebag!”
“Okay, fine. Well, whatever.”
“I accept your apology.”
It’s now 1:26. We finally find a spot in an unkempt gravel pit. My head is in my fucking hands at this point. Jesus Christ, I cannot stop from giggling at her like a loon.
She elbows me pretty hard in the ribs in response. As we exit the car, I loudly complain about how long we have to walk now. She tells me to fuck off. Just another day at the office.
I was thinking about that series of Twitter screencaps I posted earlier. This blog has around since 2008, and my Tumblr and Twitter accounts since 2010, but I’ve had other sites prior to this. I’ve been around, having some semblance of an internet presence; people have known who I am, for almost ten years. Mostly as a shithead troll pissing off the retro games community, but still. If there is a name or an insult you can think of, I’ve been called it at once point.
But at no point in time, have I ever been called “fake” or “disingenuous.” My “credentials,” so to speak, have never been called into question. Which is funny: I beat Halo 3 on the hardest difficulty. I’m master level prestige in Black Ops 2. Two games that aren’t exactly well liked amongst the “Hardcore” crowd The first page of this very blog features a picture of me in my underwear, and I’m posting another one here because fuck you.
Most of the games I’ve posted about either here, Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, MySpace, LiveJournal, or my two previous dot coms, I don’t actually own, emulating or illegally torrenting them. I made animated gifs just because other people asked; there’s no fucking way I would ever play Bubsy 3D if I wasn’t going to get something out of it (notes). I literally played video games for attention. I’m really no different than PewDiePie, DarkSydePhil, or JonTron. You know, guys who are definitely in it for the love of the game. Other than the type of content I produce and the fact that I’m not a millionaire or a bigoted sack of shit, of course.
And yet nobody has ever called me fake. I check off every box on the big, bad, metaphorical list that the dreaded “Fake Gamer Girl” falls into, and I have never gotten shit for it. Nobody is posting my Social Security Number on 4chan. Nobody has hacked my Twitter account. I don’t receive a daily torrent of abuse designed to get me permanently offline. On one hand, that’s great. I’m extremely lucky that I can be an openly gay dude playing and discussing games on the internet, with a fairly big following to boot with no problem. On the other hand, it’s fucking bull shit that I can just post anything I want willy-nilly, while other people get a digital lynch mob sicced on them simply because they’re “The Other.” It’s not fair to them that they have to be extra careful with what they post online because some sexist fuck still fuming over not having a prom date has an axe to grind with an entire gender.
In short: Fuck Gamers. Fuck hypocrisy. Fuck The Man. Fuck The Men too, if you catch my drift.
I don’t know about you, readers, but I am shocked, SHOCKED, that someone who promotes the work of shithead MRAs and racist Libertarians (redundant, I know) would have issues dealing with her fellow women.
What a fucking joke.
I just got FTL and it’s really cool. I get to command a starship fleet and be a juvenile shithead all at once.
Whenever I’m working on some type of creative piece, I always have music playing. Also when I’m working on regular, menial things as well, but it means more when I’m creating something. And you may have noticed that I have a pretty diverse range of taste in music. So I thought, every now and again, I’d post a particular song I listen to while working on my Sword of Moonlight level.
I have this thing; it started as an ironic thing for Demi Lovato. It was an originally just my co-workers and I making fun of the, at the time, hot new Camp Rock movie that we had to promote. Eventually, after a point, I realized that I was unironically enjoying her music. I don’t know, I’m weird. But her music is pretty good when you’re drawing up maps and trying to write funny NPC dialogue.
(Demi Lovato- Two Pieces)
I quit using Tumblr last year after getting tired of its ridiculous image restrictions and general lack of quality. Then I went back to using it a few weeks later because I managed to gain twelve followers despite saying I was done and would never come back. In all this time, I’ve gained like 400 followers and Tumblr’s restrictions were relaxed a little bit. But it’s still shit and I hate it.
Like, I look in the comments, or on the blogs of (some of) the people I follow, and it’s all the same. I post vid con screencaps and animated gifs, or music, or pictures of dudes in underwear with bulge showing, or whatever, and for the entertainment of who?
So fuck that, and fuck Tumblr. I’m just going to chill out here, and on Twitter. Granted, I’m not nearly as popular here, but I would rather be unpopular and real, than be popular and be some character. Atlus Shrugged is a character, James is a person, and it’s time to put that character to bed.