Shinmaru

If anyone wants to post about the new GameCube Legend of Zelda game, there is already a thread for it [b][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=39540]here[/b][/url]. However, I'll leave this thread open and change the title of it to "Favorite Zelda Game". Surprisingly enough I couldn't find a favorite Zelda game thread in Play It. Anyway, I'll likely be back here later spreading the gospel of The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past. ;)

I would [i]love[/i] to see Earthbound re-released on the GBA or DS. I never got to play it on the SNES, and I don't really care for messing around with emulators too much, so I've never played the game. I would snatch up the game in a heartbeat if it were ever remade. I'd also really like to see a re-release of Kirby Super Star, because it's the greatest Kirby game ever, and one of the more underrated games ever. The game is especially underrated, because of all of the high-profile games that Nintendo has released over the years. Kirby isn't among the first franchises that pop into people's minds when they think of Nintendo, which is sort of sad in a way.

[QUOTE=lea]Is that all, or are you going to do more with it? I want to know, before I comment. *nods*[/QUOTE] Well, I don't know if I'm going to do more with this story [i]specifically[/i], but I have very vague ideas in my head for a much larger story in which this would be a small part. I was thinking that it would be a collection of short stories about a town, and each short story would focus on a member of the community. People like Marion, Ms. Hodge, Sally, etc. are all just little parts of this town. Also, each short story would play off of the others to focus on a sort of theme, which I haven't really given much thought to yet lol. Everything is just ideas at this point in time. I like Marion and the others a lot, however, so I'll probably end up using them again at some point. :)

This was inspired by a couple of short stories that I read recently. Hopefully people enjoy it. Comments, critique, etc. are all welcome. Marion was a librarian. As far as librarians were concerned, Marion was very pretty. She had short, dirty blonde hair and green eyes. She almost always wore a lavender sweater that resembled a cloak, and a long, plain dress with a flowery pattern. She also had reading glasses, but she rarely used those because she almost never had the opportunity to use them. She always seemed to be busy with other things. Marion would walk into the library each morning bright and early. She checked in as promptly and punctually as possible, but it could not be helped it if she was late more often than not. The library was on a road that was far out of the way from Marion?s home. The school where she took her children was in the complete opposite direction from the library, and also happened to be out of the way from Marion?s home, as well. Since customers were very scarce when Marion arrived at the library, she did not think that it was much of a problem if she arrived a few minutes late. ?Are you late [i]again[/i], Marion?? Ms. Hodge, the head librarian, said, stepping in front of Marion as soon as she walked through the front door. ?Honestly, that?s the third time this week!? ?I-I?m sorry,? Marion stammered after jumping back in surprise at Ms. Hodge?s sudden appearance. ?I tried as best I could to get here on time, but--? ?I?ve heard your excuses before, Marion,? Ms. Hodge deadpanned. She stood glaring at Marion with her arms crossed over her chest. Ms. Hodge was very short; standing at full height, she only reached up to Marion?s shoulders. Her heavily wrinkled face was set in a look of fury, which was at once both comical and frightening. She moved her right arm upwards and tapped absently at the thick spectacles set on the bridge of her nose. Her right foot tapped along in rhythm. ?I?m really sorry,? Marion muttered. She looked past Ms. Hodge and into the main room of the library. There were already a few people in there. Behind the checkout counter, a couple of workers were setting up the outdated computers that the librarians used. One of Marion?s co-workers was busy putting away a few books. Ms. Hodge?s large desk, which was situated in the middle of the library, was of course empty. Marion could not bring herself to look at Mrs. Hodge. Instead, she concentrated on the small novel in her hands, [u]The Awakening[/u], gripping it tightly. ?Just get to work,? Ms. Hodge sighed. She turned around and left the room, shaking her head as she walked away. Marion calmed herself and waited until she was rid of the slight embarrassment that she always felt when she spoke with Ms. Hodge. After a few moments, Marion decided to get to work. The thick heels of her shoes clacked loudly on the floor as she exited the room. She then walked behind the checkout counter. Her computer was already on, and one of her co-workers, a boy named Jake who was barely out of high school, was standing next to it. ?I turned on your computer, ma?am,? Jake said, brushing a hand through his messy hair. ?Thank you, Jake,? Marion replied, putting her book down on a chair. ?And please don?t call me ?ma?am?.? ?Sorry,? Jake said. He walked to the employee?s room, while Marion prepared to serve the two people who were standing in line. A man stepped forward and placed a book on the desk. He glanced around the room impatiently while Marion was scanning the barcode on the back of the book. When she was done with that, she took out a small stamp from below her desk, and stamped a date on a sticker near the barcode. ?Here you go, sir,? Marion said kindly. ?Your book will be due in three weeks.? ?Yeah, thanks,? the man said. He grabbed the book from Marion?s hands and left the room. A woman stepped forward from the line. She was carrying five video tapes in her hands. She placed them in a messy stack onto the table. ?I?d like to check out these videos,? the woman said. Marion smiled politely and began opening up the tape boxes. She scanned them just the same as she did the books, but she also checked to see if all of the tapes were rewound. All of them were. Marion also had to rub the tapes once or twice against some sort of metal box so that the alarm would not go off when customers left the library. She didn?t know how this worked at all, nor did she suspect that anyone in the library knew how this worked, either. When Marion was finished checking out the videos, the woman scooped them up happily and turned to leave the library. Marion looked out at the room. There were only a few other people in the library at the moment. Most of the patrons were searching through the bookcases. Ms. Hodge was tapping away at her computer. Marion sat down on a chair and she took out her reading glasses from a pocket. She put the glasses on and began reading her book contently. A few words in, a sharp, piercing cry rang through the hall. Marion took off her glasses and scanned the room. The customer from earlier had set off the alarms. She walked back up to Marion with a blank look on her face. She then handed the videos back to Marion. Sighing a bit, Marion re-checked out the videos, and scanned them against the metal box. The woman nodded her head, took the videos, and walked out of the room. Marion went back over to the chair to sit down, when the alarm sounded off once again. ?Please just go,? Marion said. ?The videos are checked out to you, I have the record right here. There?s just something wrong with the alarm at the moment. It?s nothing major, I?m sure of that.? ?No, no,? the woman replied, coming back through the white columns that held the alarm scanners. ?I want to make absolutely sure that I?m not just taking these videos from you. I don?t want that alarm ringing when I leave the library.? ?Really,? Marion pleaded. ?It?s no trouble at all, I assure you that I have the record right here.? But the woman would not listen, so Marion had to repeat the procedure again. She would have to do it again three more times afterwards before the alarm system would cooperate. Jake had managed to serve six customers in the time that it had taken Marion to satisfy the one. After the small ordeal, Marion decided to take a break. She picked up her book, went into the employee?s room, and she sat down on a chair. ?Hey!? Jake shouted, after a few moments. ?I need your help out here!? Marion groaned and put away her reading glasses once again. She stood up and walked into the other room. ?What is it?? Marion asked. ?This guy wants to sign up for a library card,? Jake replied. ?But I can?t find the library card forms.? ?Did you look in the desk drawers?? Marion questioned. ?Of course I looked in the desk drawers,? Jake answered. ?They weren?t there.? ?Well, that?s where they usually are,? Marion said. She walked over to a desk drawer on the far side of the room, and she opened it up. Inside were many library card forms. Marion took one of the forms and handed it to Jake, who had a sheepish grin on his face. ?Thanks,? Jake said, handing it to the person who was waiting at the desk. ?You?re welcome,? Marion replied. She turned to leave the room, but Jake put a hand on her shoulder. ?What is it?? ?Would you mind staying for a moment?? Jake asked. ?I?ve never given a library card to anyone before - I don?t really know what to do.? ?It?s simple,? Marion said, astonished. ?You just wait for him to fill out the form, enter some information into the computer, scan the card, and then you give the card to him. It?s really very simple, Jake.? ?Just help me out, please?? Jake asked. Marion gave in and walked Jake through the tedious process of signing a person up for a library card. She helped the customer with all of his questions about what information he could put on the form, and what information he would be allowed to leave off. She helped Jake struggle with the antique computer to put in the necessary information. And she helped Jake out when the computer refused to scan the library card barcode into the system. ?Thanks a lot,? Jake said. ?I couldn?t have done it without you.? ?Don?t mention it,? Marion said. ?I?m going to the backroom.? Marion sat down in the same chair that she had sat in earlier, and she took out her reading glasses. She started reading her novel, but she was interrupted after a few seconds. ?Hey, Marion,? Sally said, walking into the room and plopping down onto the dusty couch in the corner of the room. Whenever Marion was at the library, even when she was not working, Sally was always doing some sort of work there. Marion suspected that the library was Sally?s entire existence; she never seemed to leave, or if she did, she very rarely left. ?Hello, Sally,? Marion replied, letting a small note of irritation slip into her voice. Sally did not seem to notice. ?How?s everything going with you?? Sally asked. ?As well as it could be,? Marion replied. ?My kids are all going to school now. They?re all going to the same school at the moment, thankfully.? Marion allowed herself a slight smile. ?That?s good,? Sally said. She poured herself a drink, and took a loud sip from her cup. ?I can?t imagine how excited you must be to have all of your children in school! I remember the first day that my little boy attended school. He was so very nervous, and he wouldn?t let go of my leg when we got to the school. But I gave him a nice pep-talk right then and there. Do you know what I said?? ?No,? Marion replied, glancing at her book. ?What did you say?? ?I told him ?Little Charlie,?? Sally began. ?Charlie is his name, by the way. ?Little Charlie, there?s no reason for you to be worrying. School isn?t an experience to be afraid of; it?s an experience to be excited about! You?ll be perfectly fine in there, Charlie, and at the end of the day you?ll be glad that I took you to school.? And then my little boy let go of my leg and went to school with a big smile on his face! Isn?t that just precious?? ?Yes,? Marion replied. ?That?s very fascinating.? ?So, how has your husband been doing?? Sally asked. ?He became ill recently,? Marion said. ?Oh!? Sally gasped. ?I hope that it?s nothing serious!? ?No, it?s not,? Marion said. ?It?s just the flu. He?s been restrained to his bed for a few days, though, and I don?t think that he?ll be getting better any time soon. It seems that he?s caught a rather nasty form of the flu.? ?That?s too bad,? Sally said. ?Still, all you can do is make sure that he doesn?t suffer any more than he has to.? ?I guess so,? Marion sighed. Sally took another loud sip from her cup. ?Say, Marion??? Sally began. ?Yes?? Marion asked, standing up from her chair. ?Would you mind going out with me perhaps later on tonight?? Sally asked. ?Maybe for a little girls? night out type of thing.? ?I can?t,? Marion replied. ?I have my husband to take care of, remember? Plus, I have the kids to worry about.? ?Oh, that?s right!? Sally said. ?What a silly goose I am!? Sally let out a loud, bellowing laugh that set Marion?s hair on end. ?Then how about in a few weeks, then, if you?re not too busy?? ?We?ll see,? Marion said, her heart beating a bit faster than normal. ?Maybe if I?m not too busy.? Marion forced herself not to go any further. If Sally had known her real feelings on the matter, she most certainly would have been very offended. ?I think that I?ll be getting back to work, then,? Sally said, standing up. ?It was nice talking to you, Marion.? ?It was nice talking to you, too, Sally,? Marion said. She added an ?I guess? under her breath when Sally left the room. She looked up at the clock, and saw that she had about ten minutes left in her break. She sat down once again, and reached over for her book. As soon as her fingers grabbed the spine of the novel, Ms. Hodge strode into the room. ?Marion, I need you to go put away some books,? Ms. Hodge said. ?What?? Marion said. ?But I still have a few minutes of break time left.? ?And what were you planning to do with [i]that[/i]?? Ms. Hodge asked. ?[i]Read[/i]? I daresay that you can read on your own time, Marion. Now go put away those books!? ?Yes, Ms. Hodge,? Marion murmured, her voice escaping softly from her lips. She stepped out from the backroom and into the main area of the library. There were carts full of books by nearly every bookshelf, their contents ready to be put away. Jake was busy at the front desk, tending to a long line of people who were ready to check out books and videos. Sally was busy talking to a small group of children in the children?s section of the library. A few other people were chatting away in a secluded corner of the library. Marion walked over to the first bookshelf, rolled the cart of books into the middle of the cramped hall, and began putting away the books. After a few moments, Marion realized that not all of the books were going to fit on this shelf. Then she saw that some of the books that were already on this shelf were in the wrong section. Shaking her head lightly, Marion took some of the books off of the rack and placed them onto the cart beside her. She then replaced these books with the rest of the books on the cart. After about a half hour, she finished with the first section. It was the same with the rest of the sections. Marion was surprised with how sloppily the books were put away, since she had not recently been assigned to put away the books. Many of the novels were in completely wrong sections that were not even close to where they should have been taken to. The worst part was that the books that actually belonged in each section had to be put away all over the place. Marion was constantly bending over and also stretching far above where she normally would have to reach. She also had to evade books that fell from the uppermost shelves. Many of these books had been put away very loosely, and were liable to fall off of the shelf at even the slightest shock. It took Marion a few hours to put away all of the books. Her limbs were very sore afterwards, and a sharp pain shot through her back. She pushed the carts back one at a time to the backroom with a slight grimace on her face. When she was finished she walked up to Ms. Hodge?s desk and asked to leave early. ?Now why should I let you leave early?? Ms. Hodge asked. ?I?m not feeling very well at the moment,? Marion answered. ?And it?s almost time for me to pick up my children from school. I?m sure that my husband needs something right now, too.? ?Okay,? Ms. Hodge said, trying in vain to hide the small smirk developing on her face. ?You may leave early today, Marion.? ?Thank you,? Marion replied. She left the room as quickly as she could, despite the soreness spreading through her legs. Her heels clicked and clacked on the floor as she walked once again through the entrance hall. With a strain of effort, Marion pushed open the front door of the library and walked outside. The sun shone brightly in her face, and she raised her hand up to her eyes, covering them for a few moments. She walked to her car, opened the door, and got inside. The car was very hot, but Marion tried to ignore it. She placed her hands on the steering wheel and then retracted them quickly. The wheel was very hot. With a grunt of annoyance, Marion placed one hand on the steering wheel, and put her key in the ignition with the other. The car started up, and Marion pulled it out of the parking lot and into the main road. The road to Marion?s home was long, twisted, and full of sharp curves. The sun was starting to dip eastward, and the solar rays flew right into Marion?s sightline. She squinted the entire drive home. This made a few of the trickier turns more difficult than they usually were, but Marion managed. When she made it to the house and got out of her car, she noticed that a dull ache had developed in her head and she was slightly dizzy. She walked carefully to the house, and walked inside. The interior of her home was no cooler than it was outside. Marion tossed her book on a coffee table near a couch in the living room. She shut the door behind her, and when she did, a loud coughing sounded off through the halls. ?Is that you, honey?? Marion?s husband?s raspy voice asked. ?Yes, it?s me,? Marion answered. ?Have you taken your medicine yet?? ?You know that I can?t get out of bed right now,? her husband said. ?I think that it?s barely time for me to take it right now, anyway.? Marion stayed silent and walked into the kitchen. Sitting on a counter next to a stainless steel spoon was a bottle of flu medicine. She picked up the bottle and spoon and took them to her husband?s room. Marion?s husband lay pathetically on his bed, his sheets drawn just under his nose, with his hands and feet peeking out from the extremities of the blankets. His eyes and nose were as red as Marion had ever seen. ?Open wide,? Marion said, pouring some medicine onto the spoon. With a grunt of effort, Marion?s husband opened his mouth long enough for Marion to stick the spoon inside of his gaping jaw. Her husband swallowed the medicine with a look of disgust on his face. ?I don?t think that I?ll ever get used to that,? he said. ?Don?t complain,? Marion said. ?The taste of medicine should be the least of anyone?s worries.? She poured him another spoonful, and fed it to him. This time he was a bit more accepting of the medicine, and he swallowed it without complaint. Marion put down the medicine and the spoon on her husband?s bedside counter, and turned to leave the room. ?Where are you going?? her husband asked. ?I?m going to pick up the kids,? Marion replied. ?I should be back before long.? She leaned over and planted a soft kiss onto her husband?s forehead. He smiled appreciatively and buried himself into his covers. Marion left the room quickly and strode all the way to the front door. She stopped in front of it and glanced over at the coffee table. Her book was still laying there. She felt at her reading glasses absently, lost in thought. Her breathing had stilled almost completely. Marion could sense everything around herself, and yet she could sense nothing at all. She shook her head rapidly and came back into reality. She opened the door and was met with a fresh blast of hot air. ?Goodbye, honey!? her husband managed to shout hoarsely. Marion looked blankly at the hall leading up to her husband?s room. She then glanced forlornly one last time at the book on the coffee table. ?Goodbye,? she whispered, walking through the door and closing it behind her.

The hardest thing that I've done is slog my way through every tedious item-collecting quest that you need to do to beat Donkey Kong 64. Not that any of it was exceptionally difficult, but a lot of it was completely boring. Thank god for the awesome final boss fight at the end of the game, or there would be absolutely no real reason to play DK64, unless you're masochistic or something.

I've always liked the eggs and hot dogs and whatever else was in Burger Time. There's just something about rampaging food that I find really funny. Also, stunning the enemies for a few seconds by salting them is really funny, as well lol. I also like the Stalfos in Ocarina of Time, because they're really fun to fight. I like the enemies like the Lizalfos, Stalfos, and Iron Knuckles that enable you to take full advantage of the Z-Targeting. I wish there were more Stalfos fights in Ocarina of Time. :(

I saw Memento today, and I really liked it a lot. The story is told in a very interesting way, with the main scenes being shown in 'reverse' order, and the black and white flashbacks that Leonard has being shown in chronological order. As a whole the story is not very complex at all (once you know all of the details, anyway), but it's told in an extremely compelling manner. Most of the major twists come from [spoiler]how everyone double-crosses Leonard because of his memory condition.[/spoiler] With the way that the story is told, you feel just as confused as Leonard is, because all you have to go on are the same disjointed 'memories' that Leonard has. I don't think that this movie's story would have worked any other way besides the way it was actually told. I actually correctly guessed the ending of the movie in the middle of it, but it was more of a tentative [spoiler]"So...maybe Leonard killed his wife...?"[/spoiler] rather than a confident [spoiler]"Yeah, Leonard killed his wife!"[/spoiler] And right after I guessed the ending, about a million more little plot twists were introduced that made me abandon the idea lol. Imagine how embarrassed I was to find out that I had been right in the first place, haha. What was nice about the plot twists, though, is that they weren't just randomly inserted into the story for the sake of having a plot that was hard to follow. Each aspect of the story served a particular purpose, whether it was establishing character motive, instilling suspicion in particular characters, or whatever else. One of my big pet peeves is when something happens during a movie to make you suspicious, and then it's not built on [i]at all[/i]; like it was just put in there to be there. If I have one complaint about the film it would be that the characters seem a bit '****' happy in their dialogue lol. I don't have any issue at all with cursing in movies, but when Carrie-Anne Moss' characters says '****' about 15-20 times in the span of five minutes, then I think that's going a bit overboard. I'd rather that cursing be a bit more impactful; it was more of a novelty here. Maybe it's just me, though. Overall, though, I liked the movie a lot. I was impressed with Carrie-Anne Moss, especially since I found her acting so awful in the last two Matrix films (and somewhat bad in the first Matrix). Joe Pantoliano is always cool, and Guy Pearce was very impressive, as well.

Unfortunately, there are a lot of writers who I like, but I haven't had much exposure to their work. For example, I like William Faulkner a lot, but I've only read [i]As I Lay Dying[/i] and I'm in the process of reading [i]The Sound and the Fury[/i]. I don't read enough of the works of many authors lol. Of those whom I [i]have[/i] read a significant amount of their work, my favorite usually flip-flops between J.D. Salinger and Kurt Vonnegut. Salinger wrote my second favorite novel ever, [i]The Catcher in the Rye[/i], and he also wrote a bunch of really good short stories. Salinger mostly deals with teenagers and 'young adults' in his stories, which is pretty easy for me to relate to, seeing as I'm only nineteen lol. A lot of Vonnegut's stories that I've read have to do with war. Vonnegut was a survivor of the fire-bombing of Dresden during World War II, and I'd wager that's what turned him into a pacifist. He's written a lot of great novels with anti-war leanings, of which [i]Slaughterhouse-Five[/i] and [i]Mother Night[/i] are my favorites. His writing style is a bit simple compared to a lot of authors, but he makes up for it by weaving very compelling stories. I like Stephen King, too, but he can be a mixed bag, sometimes. Most of his novels are either very good with lame endings, or just completely awful and really embarrassing to read lol. His short story collections are surprisingly good, though, and his [i]Dark Tower[/i] series is excellent. I'd consider [i]The Dark Tower[/i] novels to be the best series of novels that I've read (and I've read [i]The Lord of the Rings[/i] trilogy, [i]Harry Potter[/i], and some other series, mind).

[quote name='Generic NPC #3']I think the man is Shinmaru :animestun[/quote] If the guy is playing horrible music on the guitar, then he probably is me. You already know how I feel about the amplifier (it's still cool as hell), and I like how the man playing the guitar looks. The whole drawing is very sharp looking, which is pretty neat. And I'll echo James' comment that you seem to get better with every new drawing that you make. :)

The few episodes of Icons that I've seen have been pretty cool. I enjoyed watching X-Play when it was Extended Play, and Kate Botello was hosting the show with Adam Sessler, but the show went downhill after the name change. I haven't watched it in a long, long time, so I have no idea whether it's still the same at the moment. Those are the only shows that I've ever bothered to watch on TechTV.

Ha, I was going to start a thread on the game, but I never got around to it. Laziness is supreme! Anyway, I like the game a lot. To me, it fits in perfectly with the whole mentality of what a handheld game should be. The game is very easy to just pick up and play, so anyone could play a short game on a bus ride to work, or school, or wherever else. However, if you're just sitting around the house and playing the game, the game is addicting enough to sap away a few hours of your time. Like a lot of great arcade-type games, Yoshi's Touch and Go is really repetitive, at heart, but it's so fun to play that you just toss that notion by the wayside. The only problem that I have with it is that it took me a while to get used to using both screens effectively. My brother and sister are both either as good, or better, than I am at the game, so maybe I just suck at it lol. Oh well, at least I'm having a lot of fun stinking things up.

[quote name='Dooby']Sometimes, yes, they do have Hell In a Cell matches. None have compared to the Undertaker/Mankind match.[/quote] Yeah, because most of them have been remembered for more than two massive bumps. I'm not going to take anything away from Mick Foley, because those two huge bumps he took off of the cage were absolutely sick, but the match as a whole wasn't that good. The first Hell In A Cell is still the benchmark match, in my opinion.

I'm sure that this year's WrestleMania will be fantastic, since the event is usually of a high quality. It's too bad that I won't be able to watch it. If only I weren't too cheap to buy tickets...I don't even live very far away from where the event is going to be held. Sigh. :( Here are my predictions. [B]World Heavyweight Championship: Batista vs. Triple H[/B]: I think that the match will be going on last, and the fans will be sent home happy with a win by Batista. I don't think that it will be an incredible match, but it will be a great spectacle, since Batista has a pretty large backing at the moment. Should be neat to watch. [B]WWE Championship: John Cena vs. JBL[/B]: Cena is going to win, of that I have no doubt. WWE would be extremely foolish not to capitalize on John Cena's immense popularity. He's probably the most popular and marketable wrestler in the WWE at the moment. [B]Women's Championship: Christy vs. Trish[/B]: I don't really care, since the women's divison is all but dead. I hope that Trish wins. The only good thing that Christy has done is fake an orgasm in the When Harry Met Sally parody commercial. That commercial ruled. [B]Shawn Michaels vs. Kurt Angle[/B]: Perhaps the match of the night here. If Angle is going to be retiring soon after this match, then I think that he should win here. HBK will be over with the fans no matter what, so I think that it would be fitting to send Kurt out on top. [B]Randy Orton vs. The Undertaker[/B]: This is the best time to end The Undertaker's streak. If he doesn't lose it here, then I doubt that he'll ever lose it. I hope that Randy Orton wins, because he could sure use this win. If he doesn't win, I hope that he at least beats the holy hell out of 'Taker after the match to establish himself better as a heel. [B]Money in the Bank Ladder Match[/B]: This'll be a great spectacle. I'm hoping that Edge will come close, only to get screwed over yet again by another wrestler, perhaps Chris Benoit or Chris Jericho. Maybe even Shelton Benjamin as the dark horse. The loss will add more fuel to the fire of Edge's heel character, which has been seventy billion types of awesome. [B]Big Show vs. Akebono[/B]: Meh. I don't know, and I don't particularly care. [B]Eddie Guerrero vs. Rey Mysterio[/B]: Should be an awesome match. I'm not actually sure who will be winning this match, which is a good thing. I hope that Rey Mysterio will come out on top, because it'll go a long way in showing that Mysterio is more than capable of hanging with the upper-echelon wrestlers in the eyes of the fans. [B]Stome Cold vs. Roddy Piper[/B]: Stone Cold will stun the crap out of everyone, and I'll be kicking myself for not going to WrestleMania, because Stone Cold rules.

Sam and Max is very funny. The whole Super Mario RPG series is hilarious. The games have been getting funnier as they've gone along, too - the latest games in the series, Mario and Luigi: Superstar Saga and Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door, are both incredibly funny. Moreso if you're a big fan of Nintendo, but there's plenty of stuff in there that can get a good laugh from people. It helps that the writing for both games is incredibly sharp and witty.

[quote name='KarmaOfChaos][color=deeppink][size=1]Color me morbid, but this was definitely my favorite chapter. My only problem with it was, as Godel said, you did get a [i]little[/i] carried away with description at times, which would temporarily throw off the flow, but honestly, it barely bothered me.[/size'][/color][/quote] Yeah, I need to figure out what the right amount of description is for me. Sometimes I feel like I'm describing too much, and other times I feel like I'm not describing enough. I rarely feel like I'm describing things just right. It's tough to really get that down, you know? [quote][color=deeppink][size=1]What I really love was how you drew the reader into the emotions' Chris was feeling, keeping at first a very seperate wall between Chris telling the story (regular font) and how Chris is really feeling (The italicized and parenthesized

I used to follow sports a lot when I was in high school, but I'm just a casual fan of sports now. I'll watch the occasional basketball, baseball, or football game, but I'm not really clamoring to watch the TV every time the Lakers or the Dodgers or whoever else are playing lol. I play a lot of sports, but I'm average at just about all of them. I tried out for the basketball team for a few years in high school. I never made the team, though, because I'm not very good at it lol. After I got cut from the basketball team as a sophomore, a friend of mine convinced me to try out for the tennis team. I made the team, mostly because my friend was extremely helpful in teaching me how to play the game. I'm pretty good at tennis right now, and it's a hell of a lot of fun to play, especially with friends.

[quote name='AzureWolf][COLOR=blue][B]Metal Gear Solid 2[/B'] was just too mushy and philosophical to me. They were all going on about what's really important in this life and stuff. It just made me gag, haha.[/COLOR][/quote] I usually defend Metal Gear Solid 2, but I'm not really going to bother defending the game's ending. I agree that it wasn't very satisfying at all. Maybe the worst non-"Congratulations!!" ending of any game I own lol. It's really anti-climatic. La Generica brings up a good point - there really are [i]way[/i] more bad endings in video games than there are good ones. Even if you completely ignore the past fifteen or so years in video games, I'm pretty sure that you'll find more games that make you say "...that's it?" when you get to the end of them. Of course, most games aren't trying to offer up some multi-layered story with an incredible ending when you play them, anyway. lol

Hm, I'm pretty sure that this is my first post in this forum. I don't really read too much manga lol. Fruits Basket is the only manga I've been keeping up with at all, and I'm not even buying it myself. I've been mooching off my sister to read it, haha. My sister started reading the series a while ago...I think around June or July, something like that. I remember buying her the first Fruits Basket DVD for her birthday, because she had the first three or four volumes of the series (don't remember if she had the fourth volume at the time) and she seemed to enjoy them quite a bit. Eventually I watched the DVD with her, and I liked it a lot. My sister then goaded me into reading the manga a few months after; I would have read it sooner, but I was making a lot of preparations for school and then when school actually started I was pretty busy. But I took the manga to school to read in between classes, and I liked them very, very much. Since then, my sister has completely caught up to volume seven and we're both awaiting the release of the eighth volume of the series. The manga keeps the same lighthearted feel as the anime (it's very funny and cute enough to even affect me, which is akin to a small miracle), but the emotion seems more impactful to me. Does anyone else feel that way? I'll admit that I haven't seen all of the anime, though. I like just about all of the characters, but I think that my favorite character is Hatori. He presents a nice contrast to the eccentric antics of the other characters, haha. Also, I see him as kind of like Kif from Futurama - I can always imagine Hatori groaning in exasperation at the antics of Shigure and Ayame, haha. Of all the characters, he's probably the most similar to myself, I think. Anyway, Fruits Basket is great, and I'd encourage anyone to give it a try - just be prepared to shell out quite a bit of money for the whole series, since it's going to be pretty damn long, as Dagger said.

[QUOTE=Godelsensei]It's a neat concept, and enjoyable, in terms of events. However, try and avoid over-description. We didn't really need to know how glimmery Chris' eyes are or that his clothes are baggy. That sort of thing--it clutters up the writing and makes it lose continuity. Also, try and blend sentence lengths. If you have a long sentence, don't follow up with another. Try and strike a sort of balance, or else things can get dragged out. Very intriguing, however. So much emotion! : O[/QUOTE] Yeah, I think that's one of the kinks that I have to work out in my writing style. I can be a bit long-winded at times. I think that I've gotten better at mixing up sentence length over time, but I'm still working on it. Just more to improve upon, right? Glad you enjoyed the story.

After reading El Generico's latest blog post, I got to thinking a bit about this. I've been watching cartoons for most of my life. I still love quite a few of the cartoons I watched when I was younger, because a lot of them are still capable of appealing to me. To me, the best cartoons are those that can be loved by children and adults alike - stuff like Looney Tunes and The Simpsons are among the better examples of this. I remember that when I was younger, there was this widespread belief that cartoons were only made with children in mind. As I've grown up, I've seen (and loved) tons of cartoons that appealed to both children and adults: The aforementioned Looney Tunes and The Simpsons, Batman: The Animated Series, Rocko's Modern Life, Ren and Stimpy (to an extent, I guess; you might as well add most of the great Nicktoons to this list), Futurama, Family Guy, etc. I think that just about every cartoon I watch now can successfully appeal to both a younger and 'older' audience. But there still seems to be this silly belief that cartoons are only made for children. Why do you think this is? Do you think that this belief is still as prevalent now as it was, say, ten, fifteen, or twenty years ago? I'm not really sure why anyone who actually [i]watches[/i] cartoons would say that many of the cartoons around today are just for kids. It's a stereotype that can be disproved fairly easily, I think. Also, for whatever reason, the label 'cartoon' has this nasty stigma attached to it that just won't seem to go away - hell, when you see the number of anime fans that literally recoil if you even [i]dare[/i] to call any anime a cartoon, then I think that it's pretty evident that the label of 'cartoon' has bad connotations. I'm still at a loss as to why, really.

[quote name='Mitch']The strongest point of this story is the dialogue. You have a phenomenal talent when it comes to dialogue, and in this story you show that. It's some of the best dialogue I've ever read, and it takes up the largest chunk of the story. It is a little off at times, however, but most of the time it's top-notch. By your use of dialogue, you're able to sell the characters of this story, to flesh them out. I'm very impressed with how quirky the characters are and how well you make them seem real. I know that you based each character off of someone you know, and I can tell Derek was modelled after you.[/quote] Yeah, I agree with Mitch, the dialogue is definitely the strongest aspect of the story. The dialogue really fleshes out the characters - they all have their own slang, their own distinct manner of speaking, and every line that they speak just seems to fit the different characters to a tee. Plus, I'm a big fan of dialogue that usually would be considered mundane if you were to hear it in real life, but when it is said in a story it takes on a sort of satirical twist. Overall, "Ice Cream World" is well written, though the typos and whatnot were a bit distracting at times. It's not such a big deal, since I know from experience that it can be really tough to keep track of these things, especially when you're writing a longer story lol.

So far, everything has been just lists of fighters without any real reasons behind your choices. Favorites threads are all well and good, but when there's no real discussion going on, then the topic really can't go anywhere. I'll leave the thread open for now, but if it continues to be list after list after list, then I or another person will close it.

This is an area for console games, and I don't think that this will bring very much discussion, anyway. It's basically an advertisement, and that would be better served in your signature. Thread Closed

I'm glad to see the renewed interest in the story! Yeah, I'm sorry for being a lazy bum. School has been catching up with me, but I'm pretty much on Spring Break right now, so I have ample time to finish this off. I'd like to finish it and polish it up by the end of the weekend. :) I like the second part a lot more than the first, too, Karmi. I think that the writing in the second part was a lot tighter, and that the overall idea that I had in my head came across a lot better in that part than in the first part. Hopefully the third part will be even better. I'll edit it into this post when I finish it, or maybe I'll even make a new post if another person replies. Right now I'm figuring out where I want to go with the beginning and ending bits of the final part before I get into the heavy writing. I know exactly what I want to do with the dream bit, but I have to get there first. ;) This chapter was really tough to write, and I still don't know if I have it completely right, but that's what you guys are for, eh? Anyone feel free to toss your opinion in here. ?What are you doing?? Chris asked. He sat up on the couch, bending forward slightly on his knees. ?I?m searching for something,? Dr. Whimsley replied. ?Be patient.? Dr. Whimsley?s backside protruded out from underneath the desk and dangled in the air while he scrounged through a few papers that were scattered on the floor. A low grumble escaped from Dr. Whimsley?s mouth, and he began to get out from underneath the desk. As he stood up, he banged his head hard on a small drawer. He let out a yelp of pain as he fell backwards against his chair. He moaned softly as he rubbed his head gingerly. ?Are you okay, Doc?? Chris asked. ?Yes, I?m okay!? Dr. Whimsley snapped. ?And don?t call me Doc!? Chris shrunk back into his seat, and Dr. Whimsley sighed. ?I?m sorry, Chris, I just can?t find what I?m looking for. It?s very frustrating.? Dr. Whimsley looked over at the top of his desk; papers were strewn all about the area. He scoured through the documents for a few moments, and finally procured the paper that he had been looking for the whole time. He scanned it quickly, while Chris swung his legs over to the side of the couch. ?Did you find what you were looking for?? Chris asked. Dr. Whimsley stared at the document for a few seconds longer before placing it back onto his desk. ?Er,? Dr. Whimsley replied, leaning back into his chair. ?Yes and no.? ?What do you mean?? Chris questioned. ?Well, there are some explanations here as to what coffee represents in dreams,? Dr. Whimsley said. ?But?none of them really apply to you.? ?Why not?? Chris asked. ?You?re not married, are you?? Dr. Whimsley asked, picking up the paper again. ?No, sir,? Chris replied. ?And you?re not a woman?? Dr. Whimsley asked. ?No, I?m not,? Chris said. ?Then none of these interpretations apply to you,? Dr. Whimsley stated. ?That sucks,? Chris said. ?Indeed,? Dr. Whimsley mused. He tossed the paper aside and sighed softly. Nothing was going the way that he had envisioned. ?So, what do we do now?? Chris asked. ?Let me think for a moment,? Dr. Whimsley replied. He let his breath out slowly in a low whistle. ?Tell me, Chris, what do you think of your dream?? ?I don?t know,? Chris said, twiddling his thumbs. ?I?m not really sure what to think.? ?I?m sure that you must be thinking something,? Dr. Whimsley said gently. ?After all, it?s your dream. Who would know your dreams better than you?? ?I don?t really know,? Chris said. ?I don?t drink coffee, so I don?t know why that was there. Coffee doesn?t smell good, and I don?t imagine that it tastes good, either, so I don?t drink it. And that alarm clock stuff was really confusing, too. I don?t have an alarm clock in my room. I usually wake up all on my own. I don?t like depending on something else to wake me up, it?s kind of uncomfortable.? Dr. Whimsley knew enough to see that Chris was trying to steer the conversation into another direction. Whether this was because Chris was trying to hide something, or he was genuinely confused by his dream, Dr. Whimsley did not know. He wasn?t interested in forcing information out of Chris. ?Okay, then,? Dr. Whimsley said, smiling gently. ?We won?t talk about the coffee if it?s something that you would rather not discuss. Perhaps there?s something else that you would feel more comfortable talking about at the moment?? Chris shifted around a bit on the couch. Dr. Whimsley leaned back in his seat. ?How about you tell me how things are at school right now? Or maybe the last movie you saw, or the last thing that you did with your friends?? ?School?s going okay, I guess,? Chris said, brightening up a bit. ?I?m not having a hard time with my classes. Those are going along pretty easy right now. I don?t have very hard classes. I haven?t done anything with my friends for a while, though.? ?Oh?? Dr. Whimsley asked. ?Why not? Have you been busy with things?? ?A little bit,? Chris replied. ?Schoolwork, chores, regular things. I had a little fight with a couple of friends recently, and we haven?t been speaking to each other very much lately. It?s nothing major, though, just something that happens, I guess. I haven?t worried about it that much.? ?I see,? Dr. Whimsley said. ?Are you sure about that? What was the argument about?? ?It wasn?t anything big,? Chris said. ?Just a fight between friends. It?s nothing worth talking about, really.? ?Fair enough,? Dr. Whimsley said. ?How about we move on to something that you?ll be willing to talk about, then?? ?Like what?? Chris asked. ?Like your last dream,? Dr. Whimsley said. ?I?m very interested in hearing about it, especially with how your previous dreams turned out.? ?Are you sure?? Chris asked. ?We haven?t really made that much progress with the dreams, I think. I mean, we can?t even figure out what the heck they mean!? ?We?ll ignore that for now,? Dr. Whimsley said impatiently. ?I don?t think that we can make any progress unless we have the whole story. This last dream could potentially shed a lot of light on certain matters. If you don?t mind, I?d like to listen to your account of your final dream.? ?Okay,? Chris said. ?If you really want to hear about it so much, I guess that I can tell you about it?? The rain pours down hard as I run towards the mansion on the hill ahead of me. I cover my head with my arms, which turns out to be a futile gesture. My head is soaked before I even get to the long string of stone steps leading up to the manor. I hurry up the steps as quickly and carefully as I possibly can. After a few seconds I make it to the mansion, and step underneath the massive awning that stretches out over the front patio. The rain continues to pour around me, smacking against the ground in a series of eerie splats. I shiver a bit, and try to shake some of the water off of my clothes. I peer out onto the path where I had come from. There is no sign of any car that I can see. I walk up to the large front door of the mansion, grasp one of the bronze door knockers, and rap against the wooden frame lightly. A couple of minutes pass without anyone coming to the door. ?Hello?? I shout. ?Is anyone in there?? I step over to the window, and look inside. The window is filthy, caked with dust and grime, and the inside of the house seems to be pitch black. I go back to the front door and knock on it again. Still, nobody comes to the door. I figure that the door ([i]oh the door[/i]) is locked, but I also think that it wouldn?t hurt to try and see if that isn?t the case. It is very cold outside, and I just want a nice warm place to shack up for a while. I twist the dirty doorknob that sticks out of the door, and push open the door with an ear-piercing creak. The dead, musty smell of old, broken furniture forces its way into my nose and burns my lungs as I step into the manor. I cough harshly for a few seconds before I regain my composure. I feel a gust of wind pass by me as I step into the mansion, and the door closes with a boom behind me. I jump slightly, turn around, and stare wide-eyed at the door. After a few seconds, I regain my wits, though my heart is still beating with a very quick pace. The mansion is like any other spooky mansion that I see in horror movies. However, actually being in a real one is enough to send chills down my spine. The entire front room is cast in a shroud of darkness, tinted fully in black, though there is just enough light for me to make out hazy shapes. I walk further into the room, and the wooden floor of the manor squeaks loudly ([i]squeaking squeaking too much squeaking[/i]) with every step that I take. I stop in the middle of the room. A sharp breeze of wind flows through the room, spreading a chill-inducing whistle that is painful to my ears. The room is full of odds and ends. Across from me I can barely make out a large mirror on top of a desk drawer. The mirror is clabbered with gunk, and a faint, though acrid, scent permeates from it. I feel something unpleasant rise in my gullet as I step forward to the small corner of the room where the mirror and desk drawer stand guard. Upon closer inspection I see that the drawer is littered with cobwebs, long abandoned by their landlords. I look up at the mirror again. My reflection is hazy. I can barely see it through all of the filth. I can only see bits and pieces of myself through the parts of the mirror that are not obscured. I can see an eye here, an arm there, and a bit of torso. [i]the mirror is disturbing me so I want to leave but I can?t the door is closed and it won?t open again so I?m stuck here I want out but it?s raining outside the water is falling onto the ground splat splat splat[/i] There are stairs in the middle of the room. I walk slowly up the stairs, which creak louder than the wooden panels on the floor. Each stair wobbles and groans as I walk upon it, and I tread lightly on them, because I am afraid that if I am not careful, one of the steps will break and I will fall into the stairs. I grab onto the stairwell and pull myself up the stairs. The stairwell is a dark mahogany, but is also coated with a viscous layer of grease. My hands recoil slightly, but I grab hold of the wooden shaft again. I am afraid of falling down. I make it up to the second floor of the manor. I don?t look back. There is a dead end to the right of me, and a door leading to another room to the left of me. The door is calling out to me, but I don?t want to go to it. A soft hum fills my ears; it grows louder the closer I get to the door. My fingers are trembling. I want to see the source of the hum, but I don?t want to step through the door. It?s calling me, but I don?t want to go. [i]I don?t want to go I don?t want to go I don?t want to go[/i] I force myself to turn around. The humming slows down and eventually stops. I look back at the front door. It?s still closed. I can hear the rain outside, louder and more forceful than ever. It?s all that I can hear now. I raise my hand to my temple and rub it gently. I step backwards and bump into the wall behind me. I whirl around and come face to face with the window. I can see the rain falling ([i]falling[/i]), crashing ([i]crashing[/i]) against the window, pounding ([i]pounding[/i]) into the ground. I don?t want to go outside. The humming calls out to me again. The noise is horrifying and pleasing all at once. I stroll indolently towards the door. I reach out to the doorknob with my right arm. My fingers are tingling lightly. Each finger stretches out in the air, dangling, desperate to open the door and confront whatever is inside. I?m afraid. I am also curious beyond all belief. I can imagine the two feelings squaring off inside of me, battling to the death. My curiosity is victorious. I walk closer to the door, the humming growing louder, stronger, the beat more infectious. [i]beat beat beat I can feel the beat inside I can feel it coursing through my veins I can feel the rush the insane maddening rush I get from it I want more more more but I don?t know what will come of it what will come of it the rush is addicting but addictions are bad bad bad oh so bad I want more but I don?t want to pay the price too steep too steep too steep[/i] I grasp the doorknob tightly. My face is caught in a tight wince. I relax a bit, thankful that nothing came of me touching the doorknob. The humming slows down, now nothing more than a soft, graceful tune fluttering about my ears. I turn the doorknob. The lock clicks in, and I pull the door open. I expect something to happen; perhaps a rush of wind will burst out from the room, or maybe I?ll be flooded in a grandiose display of white light. But there is nothing, only darkness. I raise my leg into the air, ready ([i]don?t[/i]) to ([i]do[/i]) step ([i]it[/i]) into ([i]please[/i]) the room. I walk inside, and the door slams shut behind me, throwing me into complete darkness. ?Hello?? I call out. ?Please, is there anyone around here? Anyone?? My calls are in vain. I grope around the room, finding the walls after a minute or two of searching. The bricks are slimy and wet. I step back from the wall, and as I do so, I slip on a trail of slime left on the floor and I fall onto the ground. A sharp pain runs through my tailbone. I start to breathe a bit faster, my limbs shake, and my eyes dart around the room, though I cannot see anything except blackness. I feel around some more, desperate to come into contact with something ([i]anything[/i]) in the room that I can touch, smell, taste, and identify. I stand up, and feel something dangling against my head. I grab it quickly, and accidentally pull down on it. A light bulb turns on, casting a dull screen of light around me. The light does not reveal very much about the room. I can see the dark, dirty ground that I am standing on, and can barely make out the walls on either side of me, but I can see nothing more. I sit down on the ground so that I can think ([i]what to do what to do what to do what to do[/i]). I close my eyes and breathe in and out very slowly. A few seconds later, I hear a small creaking coming from all sides of the room. The sound is barely more than a whisper, at first, but it builds and builds until it becomes a deafening roar, drowning out all other noise in the room. My mouth is agape as my head swivels around, looking all over the room, desperate to find the source of the grinding, irritating noise. I scramble to my feet and run to the darkness of the other side of the room. I run straight into the wall and fall backwards onto the floor. As I lay prostrate on the floor, the wall begins to push against my feet. I spring up and almost fall over again. My legs are rubbery from fear. I hobble over to the other side of the room, only to find that the other wall is also pushing in. I stumble backwards and fall over again into the small circle of light in the middle of the room. I try to stand up again, but I can?t; it is as if my legs are rooted straight into the ground. Whimpers and cries escape from my lips, but are lost in the grandiose wall of noise pervading the room. I bury my head in my arms and begin speaking softly to myself ([i]I don?t want to die don?t want to die don?t want to die[/i]), hoping, praying, for something to happen, for something to pluck me away from this early demise. Nothing answers my call. I imagine that nobody can hear my calls, my shrieks, my yells. All that they can hear is the sound of the walls crushing everything in its path, reaching on into infinity. The sound is beautiful in a way, beautiful in its devastation, beautiful in the way that any harbinger of doom is. The sound is beautiful in the same way that death is beautiful. [i][center]and death is beautiful oh so beautiful[/i][/center] My heart is beating against my chest like the loudest echo of a bass drum, my blood is coursing through my veins so forcefully that I can feel every drop pass through me at any given moment. An odd feeling spreads through my arms and out my fingers. I do not know how to describe it. I think that it is fear, but I am not sure, because I have never been truly afraid before. But I am afraid right now. The walls continue to move, and I only wish that they would move faster, because I don?t want my death to be a slow, agonizing experience. I don?t want to feel every bone crack in my body, every organ rupture, and every cell cry out in pain. But it doesn?t look like I have any other choice. [center][i]I want it to come now why won?t it come now please end it before I get really scared I don?t want to get really scared it hurts mommy it hurts oh so badly I think I scraped my knee I can see the blood oozing out from the wound it hurts but the blood is so beautiful I want to touch it and taste it and feel it yes I can feel it the blood is so warm against my skin against my fingers I wish that I could feel it forever and ever I don?t want this warm feeling to ever leave me I think that I really enjoy it I enjoy it but I wish that it would end now because I can?t take it anymore the wall is closing in on me it is closing in it won?t stop it won?t just please stop now[/i][/center] I wake up and I am not dead. I am in a hallway of some sort. I turn around and there is a door behind me. I look down at my body, my hands, my legs, my feet, and it seems that everything is fine. I feel my face, and it is the same as it ever was. I?m feeling perfectly normal, except that I know that everything is not normal anymore. Normal can no longer exist, because I?ve taken the first step and there is no going back. I have to continue. I stand up carefully. My legs are still wobbly, and it takes me a few seconds for my legs to stop shaking and for me to get enough balance to take a few tentative steps forward. I look ahead. The area immediately ahead of me is lit up by two candles, one on each wall. The walls are decorated with plain brown wallpaper with bold purple bars appearing at varying intervals. There are paintings hanging on the walls as far as the eye can see. I cannot see how far the hallway stretches. I start walking forward. As I walk, I look at the paintings. Each of the people in the portraits look almost exactly the same, with only a few minor, barely noticeable differences between each person. They all seem to have the same basic model: A large, powerfully built man, with a bald head, a thick black mustache, a large chin, expensive clothing, and brown eyes that pierce directly into your soul. [i]the eyes are watching beware the eyes those bloodshot eyes[/i] The eyes unnerve me. Wherever I go they seem to always watch me. As I continue through the hallway, I leave one pair of candlesticks behind and come across a new pair, which light up another small piece of the hallway. The same thing happens once again, and again, and again. I?m not certain that I have made any progress at all in here. But I continue forward because I have no other place to go. This is the path that I have chosen for myself. Something falls lightly onto my head. I slow to a halt. Something falls onto my head once again. It feels like water. I reach onto my head, ruffling through my hair for a few moments. I bring my hand slowly in front of my face. The tips of my fingers are coated with blood. I look up above me, my breath coming out in slow, trembling gasps. There is a pool of blood spreading on the ceiling. A single drop of blood separates gradually from the pool, and falls onto my forehead. I give a small squeal of fright and wipe the blood hurriedly off of my head. I look up again, and another drop of blood falls. This one falls into my right eye. I squint with pain, and my fingers rub into my closed eye, vainly attempting to force the blood out. My eye tears up and I wipe the tears away with the bottom half of my shirt. I feel more blood fall from the ceiling onto the back of my neck. The blood is falling faster and faster, each drop thicker than the one that proceeded it. I rub the back of my neck frantically and begin jogging forward. I look wildly about the hallway. The blood is seeping down the walls and onto the floor. Blood pours out from the paintings, oozing from the heads of the powerful beings, dripping from their noses, and trickling from their mouths. I launch into a run. I try not to look around the hall, but I cannot take my eyes away from what I am seeing. My heart is racing and my lungs are burning. I dash forward as fast as I can, but I do not make any progress. I pass candles that have been lit for hours, paintings that are bleeding fresh blood, and wallpaper that is splattered with red and purple, but I never pass the darkness. The eternal blackness is always a few steps ahead of me. I still cannot see to the end of the hallway no matter how far I run. I come to a stop and fall over onto my knees. My lungs blaze severely, and I can taste the faint, coppery flavor of blood in my mouth. Wheezing madly, I turn around and try to stand up. Suddenly I see what is behind me and fall back onto the floor. I have been running for what seems like hours, but I have not moved an inch. The door is still behind me. I do not know what to think. My mind and body are paralyzed; all I can do is stare dumbly up at the door. I notice that the doorway is still clean, virtually untouched by the blood still pouring out from the walls. However, as if the room had read my mind, blood begins exuding from the wall above the door. The blood forms itself into words, and spells out a message. [center]To Those Whom It May Concern, Please Do Not Be Frightened By What You See. This Is All A Game. Everything Is Always A Game. You Started The Game, And Now You Must Finish It. Those Are The Rules. It?s Always Nice To Play By The Rules. Just Don?t Be Scared By The Prize At The End - It?s All Yours, After All![/center] I try to stand up. My legs are shaking, so I press against the wall for balance. The blood pouring down the wall engulfs my hand, and I pull it away sharply. The momentum carries me into the other wall and I slam against it hard. Some of the blood flowing from that wall drips down onto my shoulders and into my hair. I cry sharply and throw myself back onto the ground. I try to shake all of the blood out of my hair, but the blood that is already on my hand only mixes in with it. On my hands and knees I stare down at the ground. A thin line of saliva escapes from my mouth and drips down to the ground. I hear a low rumbling noise coming from behind me. I turn my head around, craning my neck so that I can get a better look at things. I can see nothing except the blackness at first. But the rumbling keeps getting louder and louder and louder. The walls shake slowly and bits and pieces of plaster fall onto the floor. Then, all at once, the entire hallway lights up. The light floods into my eyes, and my pupils dilate painfully. I thrust my hands over my eyes until they have adjusted to the light. I remove my hands, and then I let out a low gasp. At first I think that a wave of water is rushing towards me, splashing and cascading roughly against the wall. But then I realize that it?s not a wave of water, but a thick wave of blood pushing towards me. I can smell it from here; the aroma of death wafts into my nose, and strangles my throat, causing me to gag. I try and scramble to my feet, but I only manage to throw myself against the door behind me. I pound against the door maddeningly, my fists bruising and my knuckles bleeding, but the door does not open. The wave of blood hastens toward me faster and faster. I grab the doorknob and try to twist it, but it refuses to budge. I try harder and harder to get the door to open, but it simply refuses to comply. ([i]why won?t you open you son of a bitch[/i]) I twist the knob back and forth, over and over again, but still the door does not ([i]please please please[/i]) open. My hands are throbbing with ([i]hurt[/i] pain, and I am about ready to collapse. In a last ditch effort to force open the door, I make myself get up onto my feet [i]no no no I can?t do it[/i]) and I throw myself shoulder-first into the door. [i]did I do it[/i] The door flies open and I fall through it, hitting the ground hard. The door closes behind me, and I wrap myself up with my arms, waiting for the inevitable pounding of the wave of blood against the door. However, that pounding never comes. I look out reluctantly from underneath my arms. The door has disappeared. In its stead is a wall of smooth, clear mirrors. I stand up and walk over to the wall of mirrors. I can see my reflection in the wall. I am clean again. There is no blood in my hair, on my shirt, or on my skin. I touch the mirror lightly and run my fingers down its cool surface. Out of the corner of my eye I think I see another person in the room. I whirl around, and I am happy beyond belief that there could actually be another person in this room with me. But my mood is deflated quickly; across from me there is only another wall of mirrors and the person that I saw was only my reflection. I walk around the room, and my footsteps echo loudly, bouncing off of the walls and flying around every which way. I look down at the floor and am not surprised to find that the floor itself is a large set of mirrors, as well. Before I even look up at the ceiling I know that it too will be another set of mirrors. I look around the room and see reflections of myself at every corner; at nearly every possible angle I can see hundreds of different reflections at one time. I cannot see a way out of the room. Each and every piece of mirror seems to be completely smooth, and I cannot spot a doorway. Though the room is large, I seem to be the only thing taking up any space inside of it, besides the mirrors lining the floor, ceiling, and walls. I pace around a bit, and my footsteps still echo about the room. Minutes fly by while I walk around the room. I begin muttering to myself, maybe hoping in the back of my mind that someone will hear me, but more likely trying to convince myself that there is already someone else here with me. [i]I can hear him he?s talking with me can?t you hear him hello I say[/i] I knock my head against something hard and fall to the floor. A dull ache pounds through my forehead and I rub it gently. I look up and I don?t see anything immediately in front of me. I get up and try to look forward harder. I concentrate completely on what is front of me, but I still cannot see anything. I blink a couple of times, and I shake my head back and forth. A reflection of myself wavers into view. I press my hands against the mirror and follow along it, hoping to find some sort of doorway or at least a path that I can follow. Eventually I am able to wind my way into a maze of mirrors. Everywhere that I can turn I only see rows and rows of reflections. The reflections always seem to be everywhere except right in front of my face, and I bump into many mirrors at the last second because I am unable to spot very close reflections. After what seems like hours I am still wandering through this labyrinth of mirrors and false images. Out of the corner of my eye I will sometimes spot what I think is another person walking through this maze, but I can never get more than a cursory glance at anything that isn?t yet another reflection of myself. I decide to stop and rest for a moment. I lean against one of the walls and stare at the other wall. My reflection is very peculiar. At the moment I am frowning and my posture is very slack, yet my reflection is very upbeat and raring to move. I stare bewilderedly at this caricature of myself for a few moments before getting bored and deciding to move on. I keep walking forward, but then I notice that my reflection changes every time I pass by a new mirror. One moment my reflection will be happy and upbeat, but the next moment the reflection will be incredibly sad and depressed. The reflection?s height and weight also goes through amazing changes from mirror to mirror. As I stare transfixed at my reflection wondering how it will look the next time that I see it, I quickly lose track of exactly where I am and where I have been going. I look around frantically but there are no clues to indicate where exactly in the maze I am. I can no longer spot where I originally came in. I have no choice but to try and continue further. I still keep spotting people popping in and out of corners in the maze, and disappearing when I try to locate them. All I can see are reflections, never ending masses of reflections. Out of the corner of my eye I spot yet another quick blur of movement. Instead of musing over it, I decide to follow it and try to track down the source of it. I run to the end of the path, and spy another flash of movement reflected in the mirrors. I run faster, chasing with all of my speed, turning from corner to corner, path to path, with only slight glances to go on. As I?m running I think that I can hear other echoes besides the ones that my footsteps are making. I slow to a halt, and the echoes continue for a couple of seconds longer after I stop. I start running again, and then I stop quickly. The footsteps start up and then they end, just the same. I wait a moment, and then I break out into a run again, turning and twisting between corners, not stopping, only following my instincts. There was someone else in here with me, and I wanted to find them. At last I come to a dead end. There is nothing there but another reflection. The footsteps have vanished, and I can no longer see any movement out of the corner of my [i]irresponsible little bastards[/i] eyes. I turn around to leave, but the footsteps start up again. I stop, but the footsteps continue. They seem to stepping in place, a rhythmic tapping of feet. I turn back around, and though I should now be used to unusual circumstances, I am still surprised by what I see. My reflection is grinning wildly at me and tapping his feet to a non-existent rhythm. When he sees that I am watching, his grin grows wider and he stops tapping his feet. He doubles over in what is supposed to be laughter, but no sound comes out of his mouth. The corners of my mouth twitch and I fight back tears. My fists are clenched tightly and my nails dig deep into the palms of my hands. I rush blindly at the mirror in front of me. I do not see what my reflection?s reaction is, but I cannot imagine that it is a pleasant reaction. I break through the mirror [i]who what where why when how[/i] and shards of glass rain down around me [i]fracture a fracture there?s nobody home[/i] as I fall into a dark void. [i]gone gone gone[/i] I fall roughly into another room. I look behind me and see that I fell out of a small cupboard. I look up and my eyes begin to sting; there is a thick, smoky haze hanging around the top half of the room I am currently in. A sour, decaying stench saturates the room, spreading into my nose, and nearly causing me to vomit in disgust. I force myself to climb to my feet, because it will be easier to combat my nausea if I?m standing upright. I see that I am in a kitchen. Knives, spoons, forks, and other utensils are scattered about a number of tables lining the room. A few cupboards are open, and moldy food dangles halfway out of them, covered with vile insects. Rats poke in and out of holes that seem to be everywhere in the room. The rats? obscene squeaking grates on the final existing nerves in my body. I hear a chorus of loud humming and moaning, among them being the loud hum that I first heard before I began this pitiful journey. The wall of noise fills the whole room; the tables shake with the pure sonic force of the noise, and the cupboards bend in and out threatening to explode if they have to exert themselves any more. The stench that fills the room is stronger than ever. Goosebumps spread all over my arms and legs. New experiences become mixed in with old ones. Horrifying screams join the ever-present humming and moaning, while the stink of old sweat and fresh blood mix in with the stinging, acrid stench of death and decay. I look all around me, completely lost in hysteria. A naked couple lay huddled together in one corner of the room, knife wounds distorting their fragile bodies. An old man is sitting upright in another corner of the room, his body now completely unrecognizable. His flesh has been completely eaten away; he is now covered only by a mass of raw, reddened muscle. His teeth are bared in a sinister look that I cannot comprehend. One of his eyes is missing, and the other seems to be very close to dangling out of his eye socket. Before I [i]moment of[/i] know what is happening [i]truth this is truth[/i] I am holding a long, sharp knife in my hand. I [i]cold[/i] drag the blade across my forearm, leaving a long, deep cut behind. [i]har har har[/i] The cut begins to bleed, slowly at first, and then blood gushes out more and more. The once sickening smell of death and decay now smells sweet [i]not sour[/i] in my nose, and I fill my lungs with its wondrous odor. The corpses scattered around the room get up and walk towards me. [i]a knife in my hands it feels so good[/i] I am holding the knife [i]yes very very good the cool metal the dark handle it is oh so nice[/i] against my throat [i]my friends are coming yes my friends are here[/i] The corpses amble over towards me [i]we are going to have a party it will be fun why don?t you join us[/i] and grab me on all sides [i]so much fun fun fun fun fun[/i] My eyes roll back into my sockets [i]sock it sock it sock it[/i] and I black out. [i]I?m awake now. Everything looks so beautiful now. It?s like I?m in a dream, a nice dream where I can go wherever I wish, and there is no penalty for it. I feel as if I?m floating around without a care in the world. Everything around me is in the purest of white that I have ever seen. The light looks down upon me and I am happy, happier than I have ever been in my life. I do not think that I am dead. I?m having trouble telling just what exactly is a dream, and what is not a dream. I hope that this is not a dream, because I like this feeling very much. I feel like I?m everywhere at once, and yet I?m nowhere at all. If this really is a dream, though, I think that I?ll be able to live with it. It?s not like I have much of a choice about it. There are so many things that I don?t understand. I don?t know if I can ever understand why things are the way they are. Maybe nobody is ever meant to understand any of it. There is a person that tells me that we can?t even understand ourselves, and if we can?t understand ourselves, how can we hope to understand anything else? There are things out in the world, things inside of ourselves, that we are not meant to come into contact with. And yet we do. I?ve done many things that I wish that I?d never done. There are too many little things to name, and a few big ones here and there. I think that we all have our little vices, our little sins that we have to work out sooner or later. They all catch up to us in the end. In some ways the little sins are more dangerous than the big ones, because those are the ones that we do without even knowing it. When you kill someone, you know you?re killing someone. When you rape someone, you know that you?re raping someone. But when you wrong a friend, or when you tell a white lie, maybe you?re not doing it on purpose, or you think that nothing will come of it. But these things have a habit of building up on each other in ways that we never see. I think that it?s my time to leave. I?m ready for what is yet to come.[/i] I wake up in a shock, and bolt upright. My eyes are wide and darting about the room. My breath is coming out in hurried gasps. I?ve been in this situation before. I am sitting on a long red carpet that is leading up an equally long flight of stairs. The stairs lead up into a dark, empty space. I cannot see what is at the top of the stairs. I stand up, ready to ascend the staircase. My legs are strong and full of life. I begin the climb. I go up several flights of stairs before I notice the walls beginning to change. Images appear on the walls, images that are at once very familiar to me. There is a group of children playing in a field. They are tossing a rubber ball to each other. The sun is shining overhead, and the children are laughing and having fun. The memory gives me a nostalgic feeling. I pass another image where I am running, and then I trip and break my ankle. I am writhing and screaming in pain as I clutch my broken ankle. I stop for a moment and rub my ankle, which is sometimes still tender from that accident. I climb further up the stairs. In the next image I am alone in my room, thinking, and staring at the ceiling. My hands are crossed behind my head and I am laying on my pillow. I can hear some kids playing outside. I think that a couple of them might be jumping rope. I?m not very sure. I pass by this image very quickly. I keep climbing up the stairs. I think that I can almost see the top. I come across another image; this one is of me walking under some trees in the autumn. The bright orange leaves fall down around me as I crunch through the dead brown leaves already on the ground. I am almost at the top. I can feel it. There?s one last image here. It?s an image of me from earlier, as I?m walking into the first room that I walked into in this manor. The door closes behind me, and then the image disappears. I make it to the top of the stairs soon after. There is one last door in front of me. I?m almost afraid to walk inside, but I have to do this. I grasp the handle of the door and pull it open. I step inside of the room and the door slams shut behind me. There is a large chest in the middle of the room. The chest is very plain, with only a golden lock on it. The lock has been opened, but it appears as if the chest itself has remained unopened. I walk up to the chest and stand in front of it. My hand hangs in the air, unsure of what to do. I want to open the chest, but there is a whisper in the back of my mind telling me that this is not the right thing to do. However, I have come too far to stop now. I reach towards the chest and open it up. I peer inside and I cannot believe my eyes - the chest is empty! But as I peer closer into the chest, I see that it is not empty. Comprehension dawns on my face, and I am crushed. I try to close the chest, but my will is too weak to do it. I fall across the chest and the upper half of my body falls inside of it. I can see nothing but blackness all around me. My entire being is completely cold, I can?t feel anything else. I know that my legs are struggling to free themselves, but it is no use. They eventually fall inside of the chest, too, and it closes behind them. I am spiraling in the black void. I cannot feel anything anymore. I can?t think anymore. I don?t know if I can even see anymore. There is nothing but black all around me and inside of me. [center]Nothing but emptiness.[/center] Chris sat on the couch with his head buried in his arms. Tears streamed slowly down his face. Dr. Whimsley looked down at his papers and then back up at Chris. Dr. Whimsley then swept his papers off of his desk, stood up, and walked over to Chris. ?That?s quite a dream you had there,? Dr. Whimsley said. ?It was a terrible dream!? Chris wailed. ?I don?t even know why I had it! I wish that I?d never dreamed it at all!? ?There are lots of things that happen that we all wish would never have happened,? Dr. Whimsley said. ?But we can?t wish anything away. Nothing is ever that easy.? ?I wish that life were easier,? Chris said, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. Dr. Whimsley took out a tissue from his tissue box and he handed it to Chris. Chris took the tissue gratefully and wiped his eyes with it. ?You?re not the only one,? Dr. Whimsley said. ?But there?s no easy way to go about life. I wish I?d realized that sooner.? ?Huh?? Chris asked. ?Nothing,? Dr. Whimsley said, glancing over at his bookshelf. ?I?ve just got a little something to take care of after our session is over.? ?Doc?? Chris asked. He looked up at Dr. Whimsley. He immediately recognized his gaffe, but much to Chris? surprise, Dr. Whimsley merely smiled down at him. ?Yes?? Dr. Whimsley asked in return. ?Do you think that you can help me?? Chris asked. ?I don?t think that I can,? Dr. Whimsley replied. ?Why not?? Chris asked. ?It seems to me that you have the same problems that we all do, Chris,? Dr. Whimsley said. ?What problems are those?? Chris questioned. ?I think you know what they are,? Dr. Whimsley replied. ?I don?t know how many people actually solve their own problems, much less solve the problems of other people. Life can be a real struggle, at times. Sometimes, all we can really do is just struggle back.? ?Struggle back?? Chris asked. ?Yes,? Dr. Whimsley said. ?You won?t always have to struggle, but you have to be ready for it. You always have to be ready, or else you?ll never make it.? ?I think I understand,? Chris said, getting up from the couch. ?I don't know about that,? Dr. Whimsley replied. ?I'm not sure that even I fully understand it yet. I'm still trying just like anyone else.? ?Well, I hope that you don?t have to struggle for too much longer, Doc,? Chris said. ?Struggling is bad for your health.? ?Yes, it can be,? Dr. Whimsley said, smiling. ?You?d better run off now, Chris. I think you?ve got a lot of catching up to do.? Chris nodded at Dr. Whimsley and left the room. Dr. Whimsley walked over to his chair and sat down. He looked out his window and watched the children playing their games outside. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. He wished that he could help other people more, but he was glad that he was at least able to help himself a bit along the way.

[QUOTE=Aiyisha][COLOR=Indigo][SIZE=1][FONT=Arial] We have one of those buttons. It's the little exclamation mark in the top right of posts. ^_~[/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR][/QUOTE] And if you're going to report a post, please put an actual [i]reason[/i] for doing so in the report thing. I'm tired of getting reasons like "This is spam", "Uh..." and "WTF?" when people report posts. Anyway, the addition of the Spoiler Tag sticky seemed to help out a ton. I rarely have to spoiler the posts of people anymore. Maybe once or twice a month at the most.