#464

Oh no! I let October end without filling the seven-post imaginary quota I already absolved myself from when it comes to the chilling, frigid depths that Factually Macabre 2024 potentially represented. I did not properly discuss ghosts, some might say--some people who might try rereading the presented works with more circumspection. Or at the very least, with widened apertures. But at any rate, four is less than seven, and casting the shadow of ghosts is not the same as discussing ghosts forthrightly, and for all this, I don't apologize at all. This is my little censored and redzoned corner of what was once the vast and untamed Web, and if I want a stretch of silence to symbolize a post about ghosts and perhaps allow you to wonder if I have quit or, of course, expired, then I will, no bones about it. 

Or, some bones. Skeleton bones. 

Factually Macabre 2024

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With that out of the way, I'll tell ya: I have suffered severe spiritual, physical, and chronomatic disruptions since last I posted. So I'm just gonna say some stuff about video games, specifically me and video games, like writing about boys I like and why in my diary, because who gives any fuck about any of that shit, or the fact that it's November and here we go with the fucking politics to where like, by the end of the week, will I have to barricade my house against a pack of inbred lunatics whipped into a frenzy by the depradations of AR trolls, con artists, and race war agitators? Who fucking cares. Who gives a shit what plot point kills you in this batshit freaky narrative. As far as I'm concerned, and as far as I have always been concerned, uniformed strangers with submachine guns could murder or deport me at any time for completely fabricated, indeed, feverishly imagined trangressions or potential transgressions. This has been true since I grew pubic hair, basically. Who gives a fucking fuck--who fucking cares. 

If I get deported, I'm just going to walk to the nearest beach and bum there till I die. Full disclosure. I guess I'm assuming I'll get deported roughly in the direction of my geographic origin, though I guess they could as easily deport me to Greenland if they liked. Who would stop them?

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Closing in on the end of the main story of Unicorn Overlord, and while it seems to be promising a rich enough postgame experience and of course has assured me of its replayability every step of the way, I am lingering over the final bite and filling in many tasks, powering up weapons, filling my pockets, leveling stragglers, etc.--the kind of behavior symptomatic of one who is about to walk away from a finish. Or, as is also true of me, getting ready to absolutely subjugate the final hurdle.

It is my preference, and there is much debate in general around this issue, but it is my preference, if given any kind of chance, to go against the final boss or final enagement of an adventure or campaign with the benefits of the kind of maniacal preparation that allows me to take hold of that entity and snap its scrawny fucking little neckbones purely as a gesture of my dominance. It is how I have always chosen to destroy Sephiroth, for example--laughing at him, as I would laugh at a child whose forehead I was holding onto as they swung their clenched little fists madly at thin air.

So yes, I'm going to go into the eponymous final battle of Unicorn Overlord with my weakest characters leveled higher than the average enemy level by at least three and every person kitted in the absolute cream of the available equipment, their nested arrangements precision-tuned to devastate every mix of units that might be foolish enough to ensnare itself in any one of their ten arrangements, ten steel flowers in deadly bloom, ten buffeting gusts of a howling gale I have dubbed DECA-KAZESHINI.

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Unicorn Overlord consumed me entire, as a flame consumes and causes magnesium to flare like a young star, but here in this slowing period at the end I've had a chance to start up Octopath Traveler and New Pokémon Snap. Pleased to have the headpsace to return to playing Zelda, and being able to play Banjo-Tooie on my Switch is nothing but a joy. Looking forward to FFVII: Crisis Core Reunion when all that has been more worked through.

The new music app from Nintendo, distributed free with the online membership I already subscribe to, is an answered prayer. They have modeled their music player and its organizing principles on iMusic rather than something like spotify, cementing once again how perfect Nintendo and I are for each other and what a harmonious marriage we might enjoy. As a matter of shared preferences and shared values--speaking purely in terms of design and philosophy--no company on earth hews more closely to me, nor I to any other.

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As a parting idea, I'd like to discuss playing the Gunner in the warthog in Halo. I love doing that. It essentially consitutes its own game--mainting your targeting reticule and optimizing the lethality of your payloads during every millisecond of the endeavor is to me one of the highlights of the series.

That's all. I have no problem driving the car or flying the aircraft, and will if called upon--but it is the defense of these machines by way of the most withering possible offense that I truly adore.

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Fucking hell I want only to be alone why does anyone ever leave their little area for any reason? I have, despite my fundamental desire to not do so, done many things recently. Even been to the zoo. I must admit I do enjoy the zoo.

--JL