rip magnus archives crew but I'm built different. if my boss was literally all-knowing and couldn't fire me, I'd be in his office all day asking him questions about everything. I wouldn't use google anymore. I'd be like "what's the rarest kind of tree frog" and he'd be like "shut up please shut up" but he'd tell me the answer every time.
and then I'd go home and immediately call him and be like "hey elias I forgot what time I put the burekas in the oven, how much longer should I leave them in"
and he'd be like "I hate you so much. you put them in 12:42. they should come out at 1:12"
part of the fun of the original alien is the horror of the nostromo itself imo. it’s a cell of corporate greed ferrying narrowly-trained workers across barren space. it’s huge and yet claustrophobic, cockpits crammed with machinery giving way to yawning berths dripping chains and water. the supercomputer is named mother in a stroke of human anthropomorphization, but instead of providing comfort or protection, it’s only a courier between its creator and its wailing brood. ripley yells “mother! mother!” at a matronly-voiced computer that speaks calmly over her helplessness. the ship is full of endless details and patterns and unlabeled buttons and dials the audience can’t entirely make sense of; to do anything on the ship is a rigorous, technical process, and we must depend on the characters to know it. the internal mechanics of the ship are so alien that a literal alien can hide among the bits and bobs and not be noticed. it’s great.
I'd like to add the appearance of the craft for anyone that hasn't seen it
Look at that thing. We get used to sci-fi where the spaceships try to look aerodynamic and cool, and the Nostromo went in the exact opposite direction. It is an entire industrial refinery floating through the void, matching the interior of overly complex panels, cramped spaces and chimneys dripping with water, chains dangling and clinking in the factory shafts.
It's enormous. It gives the impression of being understaffed by its sheer size - it doesn't seem to fit that a crew of seven, only two of whom are engineers, can be responsible for this towering manufactory, an implicit reference to the corporate mishandling at the core of the story.
It takes the symbol of antihuman greed - the factory with its barely paid, unsupported, physically endangered workers - and slaps it directly into space. It tells you that Weyland-Yutani did not invent exploitation, but is part of a repeating cycle that never ended even once we commodified travelling to the stars.
Its labyrinthine layout, exposed piping, its ridiculous size, it all gives the alien a perfect place to hide and hunt the crew, as if the alien turns the very ship against its passengers, which Ripley then discovers was an intentional collaboration from the start. Even the vent shafts they believe they can corner the alien in have an unforseen advantage in the alien's favour.
The alien doesn't want them, their employer doesn't want them, even their very ship doesn't want them, and it's the only thing between them and the vacant hostility of space.
With the Eat God Kickstarter's penultimate stretch goal met, the printed playset collection is up to eight chapters, and all backers at the $20 CAD tier and up will receive a copy of The Infinite Summer Palace by @jdragsky.
This brings us at last to our most ambitious stretch goal: at $77 777 CAD, Field Guide to Memory co-creator @jeeyonshim will take us on a journey to The Ninefold City:
Eons ago, during the Age of Apotheosis, the gods of earth, sea, and heaven built the Ninefold City. It appears to us as an unbearably beautiful world, floating in the heavens, just out of reach – unless you are lucky enough to be one of the Highborn. Only they can wield the keys to the Ninefold: arcane tools of unimaginable power, and proof of their right to rule over the Folk. If anyone else attempts to wield them they will be crushed alive, or drowned where they stand, or drawn and quartered by the winds themselves. But... how do you know the Highborn speak truly? What if anyone could wield the keys to the Ninefold City, unlock the doors and fling them open for all Folk?
If you're familiar with Eat God's inspirations, it should come as no surprise that the God-eaters aren't the only pack of philosophically minded warrior-poets with reality-warping powers and complete sentences for names out there – and these particular reality-warping warrior-poets have very different ideas about the proper order of things. They'd describe themselves as divinely appointed lawgivers; your average God-eater would describe them as a bunch of sellouts. If our final goal is met, you'll have the chance to show them what you think of their alleged god-given mandate!
Please go back Eat God so I can live out my unhinged urban planner dreams
me: [posting in the maid gc] yeah my lady screamed at me and threw bottles at my head cus i talked while she was reading her novellas again. any advice
maid 1: poison her
maid 2: yea poison her
maid 3: i have a connect on some really strong untraceable poisons if you want
me: girls she makes me try all of her food before she eats it how am i gonna poison her
maid 1: put it in her mouth while she sleeps
maid 2: ^this. worked like a charm for my sister
maid 3: yeah dm me i have a bunch of techniques that might work
maid 4: have you tried seducing her? maybe she just needs to have her heart warmed so she may show you the kindness you deserve
maid 2: MARY
maid 1: cmon mary
maid 3: just because YOUR lady has sex with you doesn't mean everyone's lady does
me: no wait she does like to put her fingers in my mouth to check if i swallowed her food. and i'm pretty sure she squeezed my ass once
maid 4: yeah exactly. message me i can tell yoy more
maid 3: whatever. if you need the poison just hit me up
maid 5: girls do you know how to get wine out of satin
maid 1: how recent is the spill
maid 5: a few days old
maid 2: you're fucked
after a lifetime of hearing about aragorn but not reading the books or watching the movies, genuinely nothing could have prepared me for his actual introduction. the hobbits picked this man out of a dumpster. he is a textbook softspoken angst prince and he is covered in dirt and he probably smells so bad. he’s the coolest man alive and is so casual about it. his number one skill is Knowing Where They Are and his number two skill is Having A Horrible Destiny That Torments Him. tolkien got it in one i’m afraid aragorn son of arathorn you are the guy of all time
My LC symptoms have been flaring on and off the last couple months and this week has been particularly rough, to the point of being bed/homebound most days, unable to read/write much, etc. Which means Onion has been being sweet, because he knows I’m not feeling great.
But I can tell his patience is dwindling rapidly bc he keeps making this face and then lunging for me with his jaws open to bite, remembering mid-lunge that I’m not feeling good, and turning it into a weird open-mouthed headbutt halfway there
I think I have 1-3 days left before he starts biting the shit out of me whether I can sit up in bed or not
Test prints for my Patreon zine club
and im supposed to, what, fuck the house?
and im supposed to, what, fuck the house?
