"Indeed I would, Commissar."
If you could own any aircraft whether fictional or real, which would it be?
If you could own any aircraft whether fictional or real, which would it be?
"A hot air balloon! Can you imagine just floatin' way up in the sky like that? I think it'd be like ridin' 'round on a cloud."
What's your lucky charm?
What's your lucky charm?
"Lucky charm...?" Xueqing tilts her head.
"Well, I have a heart necklace that someone especially made for me!" An enthusiastic smile appears on her face, "While it doesn't do much, it seems like I won't get in too much of a trouble whenever I'm wearing it, so it sorta count as one."
...and she is reminded of her past, her smile fading, and replaced with a down expression. "I would like to visit its maker if she didn't... Get slaughtered..."
"...That's quite heavy of a topic, yeah?" Realizing something, the girl seems a bit comfortable messing up things. "Let's move on with something more celebratable, okay?"
"So!" She raises a question, "What's your opinion on Christmas and snowball fights?"
"Well, I have a heart necklace that someone especially made for me!" An enthusiastic smile appears on her face, "While it doesn't do much, it seems like I won't get in too much of a trouble whenever I'm wearing it, so it sorta count as one."
...and she is reminded of her past, her smile fading, and replaced with a down expression. "I would like to visit its maker if she didn't... Get slaughtered..."
"...That's quite heavy of a topic, yeah?" Realizing something, the girl seems a bit comfortable messing up things. "Let's move on with something more celebratable, okay?"
"So!" She raises a question, "What's your opinion on Christmas and snowball fights?"
“Christmas…?” Esme pauses to look something up on the lens of her prosthetic eyepiece. “Ah. It’s some sort of winter gift-giving holiday. I don’t much like getting gifts. Or giving them, for that matter. I always seem to get it wrong. I offered to give my son prosthetic hands for his birthday last year, ones with built-in blades and poison injectors and whatnot—he’s an assassin, you see. I thought he’d love it, but he seemed rather offended that I wanted to cut off his inferior flesh hands.” She shrugs. “Snowball fights, though, do look enjoyable. I’ve never seen snow in person but I enjoy whipping projectiles at people.”
She hmmed for a moment before asking her question. “Is there a certain place you’d like to visit before you die? Or perhaps revisit, if you’ve been before?”
She hmmed for a moment before asking her question. “Is there a certain place you’d like to visit before you die? Or perhaps revisit, if you’ve been before?”
The woman thought for a long moment as only one place ever came to mind. She'd read about it from one of the old textbooks found in the baneful hunters' main library. But so far, hadn't had any luck in finding the place mentioned across the chapters. "I wouldn't mind visiting the place where the starry night meets the calm waters. A place where nothing else exists except the stars and the surface of the sea that looks like it's perfectly reflecting the starry night skies. I imagine it's peaceful..." Her voice trails off a little while in deep thought as details from the tome are recalled as best as possible.
"Who would you rather have a round of drinks with? A sea serpent, or a basilisk?" A slight smirk forms as the corners of her lips twitch ever so slightly.
"Who would you rather have a round of drinks with? A sea serpent, or a basilisk?" A slight smirk forms as the corners of her lips twitch ever so slightly.
With the question... Xueqing... uhh...
...her expression is featureless. She twirls her right hand, an ice dagger forming inside, and grabs it pressing its tip on where her heart is-
TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES
PLEASE STAND BY
"Ignore what happened..."
"What do you like most about a starry night?"
...her expression is featureless. She twirls her right hand, an ice dagger forming inside, and grabs it pressing its tip on where her heart is-
TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES
PLEASE STAND BY
"Ignore what happened..."
"What do you like most about a starry night?"
The art of the "re-do." Most of us bring a level of self experience into the realm of storytelling and, sometimes, as a way to redeem one's own psyche by reacting correctly to situations you might not have handled correctly in the past.
When you sleep - socks on or off?
When you sleep - socks on or off?
It really depends. Off, if I'm put together enough for it that night. It's a 50/50 chance.
Who do I remind you of?
Who do I remind you of?
Hadley was not kind, nor did she pay enough attention to him to give an authentic response, even if she would’ve wanted to. “All the men before you that I’ve bathed in the blood of and laughed at.” She responded gleefully.
“Asking a question implies I care about the answer.” She mused. “There’s only one thing I care about.” Looking over the next person with undisguised condescension, she spoke for the final time.
“Do you think you’re worthy enough to be saved by Lilith?”
“Asking a question implies I care about the answer.” She mused. “There’s only one thing I care about.” Looking over the next person with undisguised condescension, she spoke for the final time.
“Do you think you’re worthy enough to be saved by Lilith?”
"Who the fudge is Lilith?!"
"Heh...Well I dont know! Selft worth is determined by self steem! Not random strangers!!!"
"Ok! Next question! Hypothetically. You're secretly stashing an arsenal of snowballs. Which would be the best approach to tackle such task in your opinion?"
"Heh...Well I dont know! Selft worth is determined by self steem! Not random strangers!!!"
"Ok! Next question! Hypothetically. You're secretly stashing an arsenal of snowballs. Which would be the best approach to tackle such task in your opinion?"
Xueqing thought for a little.
"Try visiting a lot of places?"
"Seriously, I have a lot in my stash."
Then, she gave a mischievous smile, "How'd you feel when piled in a giant snowball?"
"Try visiting a lot of places?"
"Seriously, I have a lot in my stash."
Then, she gave a mischievous smile, "How'd you feel when piled in a giant snowball?"
Chiharu tilted their head to one side, confused by the question. "The... What? Like an RPG? Um, those are fun. I have no idea what you were actually trying to ask, though... so let's move on."
"What's your favourite thing to have for breakfast?"
"What's your favourite thing to have for breakfast?"
Burt finished wolfing down a gallon of Wily Wolverine beer, barely refrained from burping (Daren had told him something about it not being a good thing to do around other people) and then turned toward Chiharu, realizing they had asked him a question. Surrounded by multiple packs of beer, he blinked slowly trying to remember which one was breakfast.
"Is it before or after lunch - ah right, breakfast's the morning one!" He happily waved to the beers surrounding him. "Why, Wily Wolverine of course! How can it not be a favorite thing to have for always?"
"Is it before or after lunch - ah right, breakfast's the morning one!" He happily waved to the beers surrounding him. "Why, Wily Wolverine of course! How can it not be a favorite thing to have for always?"
Chiharu wrote:
"What's your favourite thing to have for breakfast?"
"I love dried nuts and some birch leaves or a piece of bark. If I have an apple that's best. Maybe a bit of goat milk." Lizbeth licks her lips thinking about all these good delicious things.
"What is your preferred place in the forest?
editI think I’ll stop playing games, I’m just tooooooo ssllllooooooooowwwww (please read in slowmotion)😁 and please answer to Burt’s question why Wily Wolverine should always be favorite breakfast for everyone!!!
The doe is tooo silly
If it's one thing Catachan taught me is that every green hell is a combat zone, where the ancient rites of predator and prey are played out every day, the jungle isn't a battlefield, it is an altar to survival where dues are paid in mud and blood and I am here to collect. Hunt or Be Hunted, that is the unfettered primordial law.
My question;
Do you believe there is an objective morality or is all morality entirely subjective ?
Reynard pondered the question a bit.
"And I thought the campfire discussions among the Foxdusts were just Theory, which would never pay off." he muttered.
"Short answer: Yes, I do believe in objective morality. Kind of."
"So, if we chatter about morality and stuff… now tell me, what do you think about religion?"
"And I thought the campfire discussions among the Foxdusts were just Theory, which would never pay off." he muttered.
"Short answer: Yes, I do believe in objective morality. Kind of."
Long answer
"Long answer: Morality is something humans and alike made up. Even if you believe in that kind of god (and I don't. Diesel and his Fast and Furious Pantheon gave humanity quick vehicles to traverse the wastes, but that's about it) and your morality is given by a god, that's still a subject.
But I do believe that there are some things that humans, once again using that term loosely, carry with us. It is like currency: whenever your society grows above a certain size, suddenly barter doesn't suffice and , that do sort of coins appear. That's kind of a natural law.
But then, people surely will run a long time and in circles until they arrive at the golden rule.
Don't want to be murdered, robbed or abused? Don't murder, rob and abuse. If everyone else does the same, everyone can live happily in a world free of murder and robbery.
Every other moral idea is just an extension, build on this stone.
Just treat others like you want to be treated, or maybe even like they want to be treated.
For me, that kind of moral thinking is like an objective morality. You can arrive there from first principles.
It is still something you can hold people, societies and even gods accountable for.
If a warlord decides that slavery is back on the menu, you can easily give him a lecture about his slaves well being before you shoot him, if you can spare the time.
And if you say: Hey, doesn't that hurt your moral compass, after all you don't want to be murdered yourself… I don't mind being shot if I ever take slaves. I'm okay living in a world where that gets you killed. I did my part creating a world like that.
Gods, I miss the Foxdust sometimes."
But I do believe that there are some things that humans, once again using that term loosely, carry with us. It is like currency: whenever your society grows above a certain size, suddenly barter doesn't suffice and , that do sort of coins appear. That's kind of a natural law.
But then, people surely will run a long time and in circles until they arrive at the golden rule.
Don't want to be murdered, robbed or abused? Don't murder, rob and abuse. If everyone else does the same, everyone can live happily in a world free of murder and robbery.
Every other moral idea is just an extension, build on this stone.
Just treat others like you want to be treated, or maybe even like they want to be treated.
For me, that kind of moral thinking is like an objective morality. You can arrive there from first principles.
It is still something you can hold people, societies and even gods accountable for.
If a warlord decides that slavery is back on the menu, you can easily give him a lecture about his slaves well being before you shoot him, if you can spare the time.
And if you say: Hey, doesn't that hurt your moral compass, after all you don't want to be murdered yourself… I don't mind being shot if I ever take slaves. I'm okay living in a world where that gets you killed. I did my part creating a world like that.
Gods, I miss the Foxdust sometimes."
"So, if we chatter about morality and stuff… now tell me, what do you think about religion?"
" It is a means to an end, the byproduct of a sentience if you will... a thirst for meaning in the lack of a dutiful cause, to some idleness, to some a source of hope, to some a way to control, for others a way to comfort. In the grander scheme of things it is an ideology and ideology serves to motivate one to expend in the absence of tangible material gain, a fundamental law of sentience is to act rationally within one's own self interest and while survival can be approximated to a number of specific functions, interest cannot. Sentience serves to approximate and divinate things, the idea of a perceived benefit or meaning if you will. The Emperor forbade it, he knew what truly matters is what we do in the moment, he preferred discipline and logic to whatever the Adeptus Ministorum has devolved into.
There's a lot of nuance to it afterall, as interest or motive is so inherently subjective, on one hand faith compels the ordinary being to acts of sacrifice, ordeal, beneficence and selflessness on the other hand there is mad zealotry, faulty interpretations and as a justification for what is arguably heinous. It addresses a fundamental urge to grasp something grander than ourselves because to many, myself included, to acknowledge this grimdark reality for all it's shortcomings, is a rather unacceptable compromise but at the same time, religion, like all ideology, is damned to become a means to exert and eschew control beyond the base exchanges of power and currency. If you rid yourself of all the gods today and came back in a hundred years, there would be new ones, or atleast that's how the commissar put it.
Whatever exists out there in the warp or becomes it, isn't really a higher power, it is a reflection of our own faculties, the reverberant collective psyche or consciousness of a species. There are some who would do away with it entirely, but truly what they seek to do away with are religions or faiths that have become too redundant or distant from their era, and new gods and rituals are embraced, by different names and different forms, across dialects and lexicons, the world religion may disappear entirely but will it's ethos? I do not think so, it ends with us, with our extinction, religion is not the cult of worship of an entity or otherwise, it is an ideology, it is a fundamental reflection of the human condition, a condition of sentience in a natural world that abides by rules of survival where consciousness was a happenstance oddity.
We think things therefore they become."
Here's an intriguing one for you.
Do you consider your character grimdark or sweetweird ?
There's a lot of nuance to it afterall, as interest or motive is so inherently subjective, on one hand faith compels the ordinary being to acts of sacrifice, ordeal, beneficence and selflessness on the other hand there is mad zealotry, faulty interpretations and as a justification for what is arguably heinous. It addresses a fundamental urge to grasp something grander than ourselves because to many, myself included, to acknowledge this grimdark reality for all it's shortcomings, is a rather unacceptable compromise but at the same time, religion, like all ideology, is damned to become a means to exert and eschew control beyond the base exchanges of power and currency. If you rid yourself of all the gods today and came back in a hundred years, there would be new ones, or atleast that's how the commissar put it.
Whatever exists out there in the warp or becomes it, isn't really a higher power, it is a reflection of our own faculties, the reverberant collective psyche or consciousness of a species. There are some who would do away with it entirely, but truly what they seek to do away with are religions or faiths that have become too redundant or distant from their era, and new gods and rituals are embraced, by different names and different forms, across dialects and lexicons, the world religion may disappear entirely but will it's ethos? I do not think so, it ends with us, with our extinction, religion is not the cult of worship of an entity or otherwise, it is an ideology, it is a fundamental reflection of the human condition, a condition of sentience in a natural world that abides by rules of survival where consciousness was a happenstance oddity.
We think things therefore they become."
Here's an intriguing one for you.
Do you consider your character grimdark or sweetweird ?
A massive oaken door slowly swings open, giving the camera access to a vast reading room. Tome for tome fill up the massive antique shelves, bound in expensive leather.
Posh piano music played in the background.
The camera swings towards a lit fireplace. Bathed in the orange flickering light, Vince sits in a wing chair of red leather.
Wearing a light-red bath robe over his shirt, his dress looks more than casual. His eyes are glued to the pages of one of the books.
He almost sold it as well, if it wasn't for the fact that he held the book upside down.
Slowly, as if he just realized there was a camera in the room, he lifted his head.
"Oh, hello." he said, reaching for a tea cup nearby. "Didn't notice you there.
But since you are hare, let me take this opportunity to answer a question near and dear to all our hearts: is the world, and by extension, are we Grimdark or Sweetweird?
And the answer, of course, is neither."
Vince subtly made sure the page with the script didn't fall out of the book.
"It's like asking Tolkien if he writes spy thrillers or westerns. Bilbo giving Frodo the ring is kind of like Q giving James Bond a gadget, and Strider and the Rangers are kind of cowboys, but if you break the world down in two genres you'll lose a lot of nuance.
The world I'm living in is part Underworld, part the old Evil Dead films. That's comedy-horror"
Vince line-reading got mechanical and obvious for a moment. He blinked at the script, before he caught himself.
"So… it's grimdark in the sense of having an oppressive system, that's limited by it's own corruption and incompetence, while in the worst parts of the city, it's the law of the jungle. And yeah, I tend to get into fights a lot.
It's sweetweird in the sense that I'd like to think I'm a friendly guy most of the time, that I'm tend to hang out with a group of diverse friends and that the supernatural isn't all gloom and doom, but also has good sites. Like, despite my rocky past, I like being a werewolf and…"
Vince lowered the book. "F-" In post, someone has added a beeping sound here "-k". Her massaged the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'm okay with helping you out on your project, but I can't confess to being an unregistered werewolf on camera."
"Don't worry about it, my Prof. is the only one who'll ever see it." A voice off-screen said. "Also, please don't swear, I'll have to remember to cut it."
Vince shrugged. "I thought we're in the outtakes anyways. Wait, do you think children will watch a strange art film?"
Sarcasm dripped from the voice off-screen. "What? Do you think post-modern discussions of contemporary art movements aren't popular in the demographic 7 to 14?"
Vince was diplomatic enough not to answer.
"No, my prof. will dock me a grade for it. She's sensitive about stuff like that." the voice continued.
Vince shrugged. "Should I start from the top?" he asked.
"No." the voice answered. "Let's just get through one take so we can clear up any questions as they come, then we can start again."
Vince peeked at the script again. "While I would've left this question to a character actually neatly falling into one of those categories, for example I think the nice doe that sometimes post here might be a prime candidate for sweetweird, I feel like the question was directly addressed at me. It kind of asks the player a question instead of the character, which is the reason for this weird framing device that…"
By now, Vince had given up on speaking freely. He just held up the paper with the script, going line by line.
Finally, he lowered it and looked directly at the camera.
"Am I supposed to understand what any of this means?"
The camera moved from side to side as the operator shook his head. "No, that's part of the art. We're breaking the forth wall."
Vince turned his head towards the nearby, solid stone wall. "If you want to, I could just tear that wall down?" he offered.
"No, that means…" the voice fell silent as a door was opened.
Another loud voice rang out offscreen. "Hey! Who are you and what are you doing in my home?"
Vince slowly slide off the chair. Keeping low, he quietly moved to the side of the camera image.
"We just needed a set, and we thought the mansion was free for the weekend…" the first voice answered.
The cooking of a shotgun interrupted the sentence. "Hands where I can see, or I'll…"
Vince threw himself off-screen, towards the newcomer. A single shot thundered, followed by a loud roar.
A few more beeps followed, censoring even more curses. The front end of a 12-gauge shotgun, cleanly severed by a claw, landed in front of the fireplace.
Another rumble, then something heavy hit the ground.
A moment later, Vince's face appeared in the camera. His hair was wild, his smile was weird. Red strings, remains of the bath robe, clung to his beard stubble.
"See? Sweetweird. If I was grimdark I would've killed that guy, no witnesses and so on! But I only knocked him out!" he proclaimed.
"Let's just get out of here before the police shows up." The cameraman answered. "I just hope I have enough material."
Vince popped up again, this time in a non-descriptive bar. Bored by the slow evening, he tried to break the ice by returning to more simple questions:
"So, what's your favorite band?"
Posh piano music played in the background.
The camera swings towards a lit fireplace. Bathed in the orange flickering light, Vince sits in a wing chair of red leather.
Wearing a light-red bath robe over his shirt, his dress looks more than casual. His eyes are glued to the pages of one of the books.
He almost sold it as well, if it wasn't for the fact that he held the book upside down.
Slowly, as if he just realized there was a camera in the room, he lifted his head.
"Oh, hello." he said, reaching for a tea cup nearby. "Didn't notice you there.
But since you are hare, let me take this opportunity to answer a question near and dear to all our hearts: is the world, and by extension, are we Grimdark or Sweetweird?
And the answer, of course, is neither."
Vince subtly made sure the page with the script didn't fall out of the book.
"It's like asking Tolkien if he writes spy thrillers or westerns. Bilbo giving Frodo the ring is kind of like Q giving James Bond a gadget, and Strider and the Rangers are kind of cowboys, but if you break the world down in two genres you'll lose a lot of nuance.
The world I'm living in is part Underworld, part the old Evil Dead films. That's comedy-horror"
Vince line-reading got mechanical and obvious for a moment. He blinked at the script, before he caught himself.
"So… it's grimdark in the sense of having an oppressive system, that's limited by it's own corruption and incompetence, while in the worst parts of the city, it's the law of the jungle. And yeah, I tend to get into fights a lot.
It's sweetweird in the sense that I'd like to think I'm a friendly guy most of the time, that I'm tend to hang out with a group of diverse friends and that the supernatural isn't all gloom and doom, but also has good sites. Like, despite my rocky past, I like being a werewolf and…"
Vince lowered the book. "F-" In post, someone has added a beeping sound here "-k". Her massaged the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'm okay with helping you out on your project, but I can't confess to being an unregistered werewolf on camera."
"Don't worry about it, my Prof. is the only one who'll ever see it." A voice off-screen said. "Also, please don't swear, I'll have to remember to cut it."
Vince shrugged. "I thought we're in the outtakes anyways. Wait, do you think children will watch a strange art film?"
Sarcasm dripped from the voice off-screen. "What? Do you think post-modern discussions of contemporary art movements aren't popular in the demographic 7 to 14?"
Vince was diplomatic enough not to answer.
"No, my prof. will dock me a grade for it. She's sensitive about stuff like that." the voice continued.
Vince shrugged. "Should I start from the top?" he asked.
"No." the voice answered. "Let's just get through one take so we can clear up any questions as they come, then we can start again."
Vince peeked at the script again. "While I would've left this question to a character actually neatly falling into one of those categories, for example I think the nice doe that sometimes post here might be a prime candidate for sweetweird, I feel like the question was directly addressed at me. It kind of asks the player a question instead of the character, which is the reason for this weird framing device that…"
By now, Vince had given up on speaking freely. He just held up the paper with the script, going line by line.
Finally, he lowered it and looked directly at the camera.
"Am I supposed to understand what any of this means?"
The camera moved from side to side as the operator shook his head. "No, that's part of the art. We're breaking the forth wall."
Vince turned his head towards the nearby, solid stone wall. "If you want to, I could just tear that wall down?" he offered.
"No, that means…" the voice fell silent as a door was opened.
Another loud voice rang out offscreen. "Hey! Who are you and what are you doing in my home?"
Vince slowly slide off the chair. Keeping low, he quietly moved to the side of the camera image.
"We just needed a set, and we thought the mansion was free for the weekend…" the first voice answered.
The cooking of a shotgun interrupted the sentence. "Hands where I can see, or I'll…"
Vince threw himself off-screen, towards the newcomer. A single shot thundered, followed by a loud roar.
A few more beeps followed, censoring even more curses. The front end of a 12-gauge shotgun, cleanly severed by a claw, landed in front of the fireplace.
Another rumble, then something heavy hit the ground.
A moment later, Vince's face appeared in the camera. His hair was wild, his smile was weird. Red strings, remains of the bath robe, clung to his beard stubble.
"See? Sweetweird. If I was grimdark I would've killed that guy, no witnesses and so on! But I only knocked him out!" he proclaimed.
"Let's just get out of here before the police shows up." The cameraman answered. "I just hope I have enough material."
Vince popped up again, this time in a non-descriptive bar. Bored by the slow evening, he tried to break the ice by returning to more simple questions:
"So, what's your favorite band?"
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