Wrap your mind around this:
Original serialization of [i]The Fist of the North Star[/i] began in early 1983 and continued until 1988. Length of serialization? Six years.
This blog premiered in November 2008 and last saw an update in January of this year. The newest post before now? [i]Six months ago.[/i]
The name is more truthful than you think.
Adventure! Romance! Catgirls!
As a great men once spoke, hello hello and welcome! We’re blogging live from the Artist’s Alley at Genericon 2009.
“Yeah, well the idea was that once we put on good music instead of Hierarchy of Vampires music, people would start sticking around!”
Well, here we are. After a good two-hour drive up to Troy, NY, we arrived at the campus of RPI, and after some brief confusion over what will be called the Wilson-Wiltsie fiasco, we unloaded our shit and made our first appearance at the convention!
MORE TO COME
It’s the beginning of the year, first recess. A bunch of the more social youngsters in my grade are congregating a certain spot. Curious, bored of my own play and perhaps more than a little jealous, I put my toy truck back in my bag and make my way over to where they are. We are playing “House,” and they are all deciding who will fulfill which role. Of course, the MOST MOST popular girl and boy get to be Mom and Dad. Then there’s children, uncle, aunt, grandma etc. Events pass much as they do during Kickball, and I’m last picked. I ask what’s left for me to be.
They all smirk, and I imagine shift their eyes around mischievously. Mum ‘n dad, as the de facto leaders, whisper to each other, and then proudly announce:
“Pet. Cat.”
Never had more momentous words been spoken. Never had two words, in the history of this playground or any other – signified more, or worse.
“What?”
“You. Get to be. Our cat! Sit.“
Sit.
Now, although the concept of self-respect or preservation of one’s reputation were not yet solidified in my mind at that time, it must have taken an act of great humility to accept the position with grace and aplomb.
And so, for the entirety of the school year, I served as Family’s Pet Cat. But I’d not let my time in social purgatory go to waste. I shunned not my duties; every day -any day- that Mom and Dad convened the Family, Pet Cat needed not be called upon twice.
I waited. I was always waiting. Always watching.
My dalit-like state served to fuel a righteous fire within me. I subjugated myself to them, and in return I learned their ways. I earned their trust and eventually their respect. For one year, I was Pet Cat.
On the first day of school next year, my purgatory comes to an end. I wait eagerly, hardly able to constrain myself throughout my early classes. So close, and still so far. I’m going through the motions, but my mind is elsewhere. My days as Pet Cat are over, my deliverance is near. I can likewise sense the anticipation of my fellow Family members. Throats dry, eyes darting, legs thumping and feet tapping; our endocrine systems are in overdrive like a condemned man awaiting death or release.
It seems both an eternity and an instant. The bell rings, we’re released for recess. For all our anticipation, we move calmly. Trying to appear nonchalant, but we can all sense it – we’re drawn to the Spot. We congregate, and the trials begin. The moment I’ve been waiting for. Hands are raised, names are called. My heart skips a beat when it’s mine, but my teeth sink deeper into my lower lip when it’s not. I can hardly take the suspense.
The girl from last year is once again elected Mom. A funny kid who looks like a monkey is Uncle. There’s no grandma this year. The plebeians argue amongst themselves over who gets to be children. Let them bicker, it’s not the position which matters. Finally! The moment of truth.
One position left. The only position that matters, the position which has occupied my mind since those foul lips first formed the words Pet Cat one year ago. Thats Three hundred Sixty five days. Eight thousand seven hundred sixty hours. Five-hundred twenty five thousand minutes. And more seconds than I care to count.
My salvation.
The position of Dad. The King of the Kids, Count of the Courtyard, the Scion of the Swingset, the Monarch of the Monkeybars! If elected, my reign would know no bounds and mine would be a name forever imprinted up on the minds of this elementary school, as fundamental and as much a part of this institution as the very ground it was built upon!
The decision is made.
My redemption.
My lips turn upward in a crooked smile, with my mouth’s corners showing no intention of stopping. Their ascent reflects my own ascent to power, and by whichever arcane, doubtless arbitrary -yet seemingly divinely inspired- system was used to elect the Dad… the responsibility, the glory, the honor – has fallen to me.
I take my first steps to the center of the circle. “Mom” takes smaller, meeker -yet still regal- steps to bask besides me.
… And my revenge.
And, with the attention of every kid who mattered on the playground, the kids with whom stopped the lunch money, every kid who ever pulled a wedgie or kept dark secrets of what unspeakable tortures were performed in the boys bathroom, who broke toys and made pretty teachers cry – and for every innocent person they ever acted against, I took my first words as king.
I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Panda that wouldn’t screw to save its species.
27 heartbeats. That’s how long I waited before speaking. By god, it must’ve been twice that for anyone listening. But finally, I spoke. I spoke the first, and last words I would ever speak in the Family’s presence since the day I was inaugurated Pet Cat.
I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all the French beaches I’d never see.
“The Family is Over.”
Dead. Silence. Never had a more perfect example been seen. I had no need to explain myself, but one final nail in the coffin is no insult to the dead.
“Dad. Doesn’t. Love you.”
I felt like destroying something beautiful.
FIN
Okay, so I was gonna finish this by posting some quasi-yaoi catboy spam, being all “TEACH YOU TO VISIT *MY* BLOG” I mean, unless one was into that sort of thing, in which case it wouldn’t be much by the way of punishment anyway. Maybe by way of embarrassment, but w/e. I’ve decided to be a good person and leave it at that.
JK LOL
Take care, all.
So I was on /tg/ the other night (‘s how all the best stories start!) and there was a discussion comparing the Lost Boys of Peter Pan to that creepy vampire movie. The discussion itself was trollish and pointless, but it led to something better. /tg/ loves grimdark everything, so they started thinking about how to do up Peter Pan in their favorite garb.
And so, I gave them this.
Commodore Hook looked out across the wreckage of the Jolly Roger. Years ago he had scratched the ‘HMS’ from the bow; he had betrayed his King and left the Empire for his new cause. He had abandoned everything for his mission. There would be no Armada coming to his aid.
At his feet, Smee lay mangled, his innards displayed open for the seagulls, his eyes in permanent pleading to the heavens for mercy, his body drained totally of blood. The good Commodore swiped his hook at the carrion birds and knelt beside the man who had stood beside him from Bermuda to the Ivory Coast. Slowly and hesitant, he sealed shut the eyese of his old friend. “Maker have mercy, good Smee.”
They had come in the night, ‘the Lost Ones,’ undying bodies of children lost to the sea, razing the ocean to sate their unending hunger. Hook had lost his daughter, Emily, years ago to the sea. He was to join his family in the Caribbean colonies but that was not to be. Obliterated in a storm and now lost to the sea, Hook knew that his daughter now wandered with the other ‘lost ones.’
He sailed to every island and searched for every priest, padre and shaman. He cared not whether they were Lutheran or Papist, or some vile heathen; he would save his daughter from her torment no mater what power granted him insight. He knew that his daughter would find no rest until he could end her again. He knew the monster who had stolen his daughter’s soul. He had found infernal island that the beast called home. The papists had called it Somnium Terra, the voodoo had an unpronounceable name; Hook had called it Neverland.
From where his left eye once was, Hook felt a tear form and soak the rim of his patch. His boat was dashed on the wretched shores of Neverland. His men searched through the wreckage for supplies and armaments. They knew that they would not sail again except across the great four in the after life.
The Commodore tasted his powder to ensure it’s quality. There would be no second chances on this island. Hook, loaded his hand pistols. He looked at Smee again before taking his coxswain’s pistol belt. He wept silently over his friend. “With this,” he whispered, “I promise you, with this I will throttle the life from the beast.”
A fire burned within Hook. A fire brighter than any muzzle blast. Any sorrow in him was tempered into sheer anger. He focused his rage to a single unstoppable force aimed at the beast who would die at his feet. He waded into his crew, at the ready. They had followed their Commodore, their brother at arms, from one corner of the map to the other. This hellish island would be no different. His men watched him await his command. His first mate Starky was the only one bold enough to approach. “What are your orders, Commodore?” He asked, his voice shattering at each word.
“FIND PETER PAN”
Yeah, I went there.
I don’t remember what started it specifically. Actually, I do. /tg/ had a thread on pirates and somebody mentioned “sand pirates” which got me thinking about Sandships, and one of the answers to a question on my geo final was “lagomorph” (well, it was a choice. The right answer was “batholith.”)
I guess this kinda coincieded with Jazz trying something new again (or maybe just stopping someone else from snagging his URL) by setting up a blog here at wordpress. I doubt anything will come of it yet, but that’s a different story. I’m sure he’ll never admit it, but after the first year or so, Jazz had the least to do with pockybot out of the lot of us.
Eh. That aside, I’ve been kind of on a manhunt. An internet manhunt. Not so much getting-the-band-back-together level stuff, but checking up on everybody. And it’s been kind of spooky. I’ve only been able to track down the folks with the uniquest of names, because… if I don’t remember where to find them, I’ve got to google. At any rate, when I found ZombieHead, it was kind of a “why were we ever apart ;_;” moment. Did you know he likes 40k? And Touhou? That’s right.
Ghostbat is still up to his own antics. Makin’ chibi things and being awesome. Also I didn’t know he was almost 40. That was odd.
Matt had a blog that he seemed to update for a bit after the forum went down, but still nothing relatively recent.
A bunch of folks I won’t be able to find because I’ve forgotten their names, or they’re just too generic to find the right one (like that Sephiroth fellow.) And Jazz himself has stayed very active on… where else but Gaia Online! (Who can blame him for craving more engaging conversation than the members of his late forum could offer him? 
)
Udo has kind of dropped off the face of the internet, though. Tracking him down was probably the most eerie of all. Not just because everything deadends, but because until the point where it does, it’s like tracing my own footprints. I remember everybody being older than me; having interests and knowledge I didn’t yet understand. And now, reading back on everything, I realize I’m in much the same situation they were. For a moment I feel a sense of brotherhood, and then I look at the timestamps on all of this and see that it’s all from three years ago.
I wish jazz would bring the forum back up, for some kind of “if you build it, they will come” fantasy where everybody comes back. But before he shut it down he alienated a lot of people; didn’t leave many people on his side. That being the case, I can’t blame anyone who wouldn’t come back. I have contact information for some folks, but I haven’t talked to anyone yet. Iunno why.
Ok, I tried this on google docs already, but people are lazy asses. Why I expect it to work here? I don’t. But I feel compelled to try, because it’s something I’d like to see happen.
Character concepts. The basis of anything. Whatever DLN; (DKO LateNite) is going to be, it needs characters. Sure, we’ve got a vague idea of “LCom, Nobi and Airpi” and then everything that comes after, but that’s hardly enough to go on.
So, what am I asking? It’s simple. For each character you could see appearing in DLN, a short description from which to build upon. Two, three sentences max. I can work from there with character concepts, and I’m sure someone else would be willing to do sketches if they had something to work with. The thing is, right now we don’t.
So lets see what we can get, huh? The next time you’re feeling creative, why not write something up? It’d be a help.
Just so you know I’m not talking out my ass when I say the moderators on TESF have a thread dedicated to hating me :3.
Whenever I feel like my efforts there go unappreciated, I just open this pic, and know that someone; somewhere, has added a tic mark to this thread.
Sorry for crappy quality; it’s somebody else’s screencap. The thread reads “101 reasons to kick SneakyNinjaOtter.”
That is all.
