Hello
Here's a thought experiment. Imagine that, in 2017, Activision did not publish Call of Duty: WWII but instead Call of Duty: Eternal. This is a story which is very much the same as what Call of Duty: WWII transpired as but with a couple of significant differences. For a start, it's not set during World War Two - it's set in a fantasy world with a 1940s/50s level of technology. A global war is raging between mankind and Orks, with the Orks having conquered great tracts of the world, and the story opening with the efforts by humanity to retake "Albion" from Ork occupation. I like to imagine the faces of Call of Duty fans when the first trailer came out and, seeing what looked like D-Day, got excited that at last the franchise was going back to its roots - only to see that the enemies are Orks and the main character is a Lenape woman.
To help with this imagining - below you'll find the full script for the first mission of Call of Duty: Eternal, based on the first mission of Call of Duty: WWII. The rest will gradually follow.
You might find it useful to follow along using this video - a walkthrough (no commentary, thank God) of the actual first mission in Call of Duty: WWII to help with visualising it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7y1bDQBEhA
Call of Duty: Eternal Mission 1 X-Day
Text slowly appears on-screen:
The world is bathed in flames.
The Ork clans, united for the first time in centuries, are on the march.
Man faces extermination.
A human skull is shown before an Ork boot comes down on it, shattering it.
Radio broadcast: With unmatched ferocity, the Ork war machine has launched its onslaught against the world… mankind faces the abyss.
The camera pans up on the Ork boot to show an Ork soldier as, behind him, Ork soldiers and tanks move through a devastated city.
Radio broadcast: As we brace for our darkest hour, we must summon our strength to be the bulwark against oppression.
Ork bombers are shown bombing London, recognisable for the Thames if not for the architecture. They are four-engine bombers, like B-17s, and the camera closes in on a propeller which shifts to a ceiling fan.
Radio broadcast: The Ork onslaught will be the greatest test we'll ever face.
The camera pans down from the ceiling fan Mona Kanti, a young Lenape woman and the protagonist, is shown joining the Imperial Armed Forces. She stands in a line in a recruitment office as a recruitment officer stamps her papers.
Radio broadcast: But face it and defeat it… we must.
To punctuate the “we must,” a sudden cut to black with the sound cut out. Then, we hear the voice of the Ork Primarch. A speech plays, meant to mirror FDR’s D-Day Prayer, with shots of the Ork war machine we’ve been hearing so much about.
Primarch: With this war we set upon a mighty endeavour.
Fade from black to show huge lines of Ork soldiers in formation, like big Nazi rallies, are shown.
Primarch: A struggle to restore our civilization…
Ork soldiers on one knee in this rally are shown, closer up, dressed in battle gear and their faces daubed in war paint.
Primarch: …and to set free a suffering people.
A view from the rear of the rally, with the vast architecture of the Primarch’s palace shown looming over it all, resembling the Palace of the Soviets.
Primarch: Our Sons. Pride of our Clans.
Another panning shot of the assembled Orks, this time from the side.
Primarch: May the Mother lead them straight and true.
An Ork mystic, on the balcony overlooking the assembly, blesses the troops with hands raised to the sky.
Primarch: The road will be glorious. Men's souls will be broken with the beauty of war.
A shot from behind the mystic, seeing the assembled troops stretching towards the horizon.
Primarch: In this time of fire and blood…
The face of one Ork soldier is shown up close.
Primarch: …we shall prevail.
With the slightest of grimaces, the Ork uses a knife – and, in the background, we see the others doing the same – to ritualistically slice his forehead and let blood trickle down.
The cutscene then shifts to the Imperial Navy ships, including battleships of a scale similar to the Super Yamato, that are heading for the beaches of Albion. Mona Kanti is writing a letter to her sister, Luna Kanti, and we hear her voice-over as we view shots of the fleet.
Kanti (narrating): Luna. Oh, I wish you could see this, sister. An armada from one horizon to the next. I turned sixteen too late to help free Ériu. But not Albion – and it’s gonna be tougher. Much tougher. You know, I think I could bear the blood, and the misery… and the Orks. But the waiting… well, that’s a whole other battle.
Inside the troopship living quarters. We are now in first-person as Kanti. Kanti is sat at a table, hanging out and talking with her squad-mates Kinsi Rei (female Somali; shaved head), Thea Adlai, (female Swedish; ginger, freckles, glasses) and Ren Tao (male Chinese). Ren Tao is eighteen – the others are all sixteen. Bunks are stretched out behind them and other soldiers, of all ethnicities and sexes, walk by throughout. Rei is holding court while playing with a knife, every now and then jabbing between her fingers.
Rei: So she asks me for my watch and I'm thinking, "what in the Nether do you want my watch for; your parents make like fifty times mine!" But I turn around, and I felt this punch. And it's cold like ice.
Some of the dialogue is drowned out by Kanti’s narration. Every now and then, Kanti glances down at her fingers as she snaps them, but whatever she’s trying to do with that isn’t happening.
Kanti (narrating): Believe it or not, I managed to make some half-decent friends in Basic. All scared as can be. But nobody’s letting on.
Rei keeps playing her knife game as she talks.
Kanti (narrating): I hated Rei when I met her – and now she's my best friend. Funny how that works. She's always looking for trouble. If there wasn't already a war on she'd be off trying to start one.
Rei offers her knife to Thea Adlai and, though we can’t hear her given the narration, seems to be asking her if she wants to try the knife game. Adlai refuses.
Adlai: Besides, I gotta keep all my fingers if I'm gonna take photo of the year.
Kanti (narrating): Adlai says she's gonna be a photographer for a fashion magazine. She’s got a good eye. Except when she takes off her glasses – then she can’t see shit.
Rei offers her knife to Kanti and Kanti turns to Ren Tao.
Kanti (narrating): Tao's the vet but, if I’m honest, he's what kokomi would call “a bit of a bumpkin.”
Ren Tao is tempted to play Rei’s knife game.
Tao: Okay, okay. Let's make this interesting.
Rei: It’s not interesting? Kanti – what’re you doing?
She says this in reference to Kanti’s finger-snapping.
Kanti (narrating): I swear I used to be able to do this…
Tao: So you keep saying.
Tao take off his talisman and dangles it in front of Rei.
Tao: Xu Yaling. Spirit of war.
Adlai: And sex, right?
Tao: Sssh. (Rei and Adlai laugh) He's had my back since Sabha. And, yeah, that’s real gold. (drops the talisman down on the table) Rei, three times in ten seconds, and he's all yours. (Sits back down)
Rei: I don't know.
Tao: Oh, you could always wimp out. That’s a choice, too.
Kanti: My money's on Rei.
Rei: Okay. Okay, I'm in.
Adlai: I can't watch.
Tao: I can.
Rei looks to Adlai.
Rei: Just time me when I tell you. Back to my story – me and my girls, we muscled our way into this chess game that the wrestling team had going. We had a bona-fide genius among us – but it was me playing. We worked out a system where she can signal to me what moves to make. You should have seen the Head Girl’s face when I took that pot. (To Adlai) You ready? That's what happens when you try to hustle a hustler. Now…
Rei plays the knife game while Adlai times her and wins the bet in a few impressive seconds.
Rei: Checkmate!
Tao: There ain’t no way!
Kanti (narrating): Tao had enough fight in him for two men.
Rei: Much obliged.
Rei offers to shake hands with Tao.
Tao: My mother told me never touch a Nube.
Rei doesn’t flinch but you can tell she’s ready to throw hands. Instead…
Rei: That's not what she said last night.
Rei winks and Tao shakes her hand.
Kanti (narrating): And enough bigotry for six.
Tao: Meh, who needs a stupid talisman anyway.
Rei: Apparently, you did. Here, have it back.
Tao: You won it.
Rei: It’s fake gold.
Tao: What? No, no, no, that’s as real as you or I.
Rei: A hustler always knows.
Tao: Ah, whatever, if it’s fake I don’t want it. I'm gonna get something better. A real trophy. You'll see.
Rei: Good luck with that.
Kanti snaps her fingers and finally produces what she wanted – a finger of flame, like a lighter, appears.
Kanti: I did it! Look, look, I did it!
Rei: Well, by Baphometh, isn’t that something?
Tao: That’s very pretty, Kanti. You’re ready to take on the Primarch, I should think.
Rei: She was always ready. Right Kanti?
Tao: You got any healing spells we could use or is it all evil magic with you?
Kanti: Well-
Rei: Oh, go on, tell him, Kanti! Tell him about that thing you can do!
Adlai: What thing?
Rei: And there’s no such thing as good and evil magic. Just good and evil people.
Kanti: It’s not that I can do it; it’s just that it happens sometimes. When someone’s dead I can kinda, you know, see into their past. But they have to of died recently. And I can’t do it with most people.
Tao: Well, we’re invading Fortress Albion, my friend. Good time to find yourself some corpses.
Rei: Maybe even your own.
Adlai: Hey, Kanti, do that spell again for the camera.
Adlai raises her camera then, seeing her watch, realizes that they are late for the mission briefing.
Adlai: Oh! Never mind, briefing’s at 18:00; we're gonna be late!
Adlai jumps up and runs from the room. The others also stand.
Tao: Run, little mouse.
Rei: I got us covered Kanti; don't worry about it (Showing the pendant to Kanti and winking). It is real gold.
As Kanti and Rei leave the living quarters, they encounter Khand, their turban-wearing sergeant, and in terms of personality very much a cranky sergeant stereotype.
Khand: Briefing's about to start; what in the Nether are you idiots doing?
Kanti (narrating): Then there's Sergeant Khand. He’s a sweetheart.
Khand: Oh, you think you're special, huh? The Orks are gonna eat you alive.
Rei: No, not me, sergeant. I’m high in salt.
Khand: Watch your lip, Rei. On me.
Khand leaves. The other two move to follow.
Rei: Since I'm obviously on a lucky streak, whatever happens, stay close. First Albion, then the Great Pale, then home in time for tea and medals. We got this, Kanti.
Scene fades out.
All of the 66th Infantry Division troops are on the deck of the ship as the rain pours down and Colonel Kitwana, a Swahili man, gives his pre-battle speech. As he does, we see the soldiers assembled watching him.
Kitwana: Today… we embark on an operation of unparalleled importance. To establish a beachhead in Albion… and roll back the Ork horde... that has terrorized the world since before many of you were born. We are all that separates the world from darkness. This is so much more than a chance to be heroes in our own lifetimes. If we prevail… our triumphs will be etched into the hearts and minds of a grateful world for untold generations. I'm talking about glory. True glory.
Kanti narrates her letter to Luna and soldiers begin to climb down the cargo net on the side of the ship into landing craft. These craft start making for the Albion coast.
Kanti (narrating): Colonel Kitwana can give a nice speech. His pep talk reminded me of the one Coach Pakwa gave us on our Mother’s Night game against Susquehanna. I'm sure you remember we lost by 67 points. (Focuses on Sokolov and Khand) Always looking over Khand’s shoulders is Lieutenant Sokolov. He's got him on a tight leash. But if Khand breaks free, we'll all get bit. Ever since I found my gift, I wanted to be like you, Luna. You've always been a tough act to follow. But I'll do my best.
Gameplay
We are now in first-person again as Kanti.
Kanti (narrating): It's now or never.
Kanti is writing in her notebook, the photo of Luna pinned to a page, as their landing craft drives for the Albion shore. Kanti is interrupted by Rei.
Rei: Hey! I wish I was coming home to her!
Kanti: That’s my sister! Just wait ‘til we hit Lutetia. Enough girls for the rest of your long life.
Rei: I’m starting to realise how far away it is.
Kanti take a quick glance at her notebook and closes it before tucking it into her pack.
Sokolov: Remember. No digging in at the shore. You advance. You need to stay low and do not bunch up. Stick to your training and you're gonna make it through.
Khand: Most of you, anyway.
Medium bombers pass by overhead, resembling the Junkers Ju 88 (in this universe known as Dragons) on a heading towards Albion.
Tao: Alright! Give em hell, boys.
Text appears across the screen.
X-DAY Lùnastal 17th, 397 NE Rheged, Northern Albion
Rei: The beaches are meant to be flattened, right?
Khand: You sound scared, Private.
Rei: No, sir.
Khand: You should be.
Driver: Hey, you! You!
Kanti turns to look at the landing craft’s driver behind her.
Driver: Got a light?
Kanti: Sure thing.
Kanti snaps her fingers a couple times and produces the flame again.
Driver: Oh – you’re one of them.
Soldier: Never trust a witch.
As the driver lights his cigarette on her finger, a bullet hits the boat’s machine gunner in the throat; he falls, flailing, with blood spurting out of his neck like in a Tarantino film. Shells start to fall.
Driver: Bastards!
Sokolov: Everyone down!
Rei: This is it!
Ork artillery lands in the grey ocean all around, spraying the craft with water. Kanti crouches with the rest of the troops.
Soldier: Watch out!
Bullets bounce off the landing craft’s armour.
Soldier: This isn’t fun!
Driver: Five hundred yards!
Another shell lands nearby and sprays the craft with water. Kanti trips but is held up by Khand grabbing her arm.
Driver: We’re gonna have to pull off!
Sokolov: No, we stay on mission! You're taking us in!
Driver: We must have drifted! I can't see the landmark!
Khand: You heard the lieutenant. Full speed!
Sokolov: Incoming!
An artillery shells blows up the neighbouring landing craft.
Soldier: By the Gods!
Sokolov: Hold tight!
An artillery shell, again, lands near the boat.
Kanti: Damn it!
Driver: Two hundred yards!
Looking up, a Dragon bomber is visible coming down with an engine on fire.
Driver: Twenty seconds!
Sokolov: Remember the plan! Get to the seawall!
Khand: Ceres! Aradove! Get the bangalore to the wire, fast! Everyone ready? Here we go!
Sokolov: Drop the ramp!
Driver: There's no cover!
Khand: That was an order, damn you! Drop it!
The ramp drops just as a landing craft consumed with flames comes crashing into theirs.
Rei: Oh, shit!
Kanti is knocked off her feet by the impact. Looking up, she watches as machine gun fire from the clifftops chops down a number of soldiers on the boat now that the ramp has been dropped. One has his head blown off and his neck is left spouting blood over Kanti as others are also cut down.
Sokolov: Over the sides! Now! Now!
Kanti follows as the survivors climb over the boat’s side. She stays underwater for a few seconds before being helped to her feet by Sokolov, spluttering.
Sokolov: I got you, child!
Just behind him, the beach is consumed by fighting and the noise of war is deafening.
Sokolov: Get your head down and keep moving!
Sokolov leads Kanti out of the surf, a burning soldier falls screaming from another landing craft and into the water, while carnage reigns all around. Bodies are floating all about and the water is red with blood.
Sokolov: Kanti; on me!
Running through the sand as explosions go off all around, artillery can be seen curling from the Ork lines towards the beach. Sokolov and Kanti hit the deck in front of some Ork tank traps.
Sokolov: Demolition team is dead! Take the bangalore and get to the seawall! We need to clear a path to the bunkers!
Kanti temporarily looks away, back to the water, and witnesses the bloodshed of soldiers dying, and a number running out of a landing craft on fire, while a warship close to shore opens fire on the coastal defences. Sokolov gets Kanti’s attention.
Sokolov: Kanti!
An explosion goes off nearby, half-soaking Sokolov’s face with gore. Someone just blew up.
Sokolov: This is your job! You got that?! Now pick up the banger!
Kanti moves the severed arm of a dead soldier to retrieve the bangalore. She looks upon the dead soldier’s corpse and, suddenly, her vision fades away and she sees his memories. This is the first of the Internal Vortex collectibles which can be found throughout the game, whereby additional lore is provided through Kanti’s ability to tap into the memories of certain corpses (human and Ork). In this case, the accessed memory tells a brief story of the soldier (Private Omid Afshani) and how he was part of a traditional military family and all his brothers have already fallen, told he would be a general someday, how he was born on a ship evacuating Persia (which goes some way to explaining why the Imperial military is so multiethnic – the whole world evacuated to the Americas) and how his last letter home from the ship told of how “I can’t wait to hear the birdsong again.”
Afterwards, she returns to lucidity.
Sokolov: Kanti! Kanti! You with me?!
Kanti: Yes!
Sokolov: You can do this!
Sokolov stands and starts running up the beach. Kanti watches after him.
Kanti: I hope so, sir!
Kanti looks at the dead soldier that was carrying the torpedo bangalore, and with one hand closes his eyes.
Kanti: Sorry.
Kanti takes the body’s R7 Remi rifle (comparable to the M1 Garand) and proceeds up the beachhead, trying not to get killed. The machine gun nests in the clifftop fortifications will open fire on the soldiers then wait for a few seconds to reload. This will be the player's chance to move up to avoid taking damage. The player moves from cover to cover – tank traps, the wreckage of vehicles such as half-tracks and light tanks, and shell craters, mostly.
Khand: Hurry before they reload! Move it!
Sokolov: Kanti! This way! Hurry! Stop and you’re dread!
Tao: Shit!
Sokolov: Those MGs are killing us! Get off the beach!
Khand: Private Kanti – get to the seawall!
Rei: Get to the seawall! I’ll meet you there!
A couple of armoured vehicles – light tanks resembling Soviet BT-7s, here called LT-5 Termites – are now also moving up the beach and providing fire support. One blows up.
Sokolov: Keep low. When there’s a break in the fire, run for it!
There’s a break in the fire – you run for it.
Sokolov: Kanti, get the bangalore!
When Kanti reaches the seawall, which is made up of a big mound of sand lined at its top by barbed fire and burning gasoline, she falls against it. Her fellow soldiers fall in alongside her or are already there. A lot of wounded are also there, being treated by medics as machine gun fire flies over their heads. Rei falls next to Kanti, her face covered in dirt and blood.
Rei: Kanti! Use the banger; I'll cover you! After we breach, keep pushing toward the bunker!
Kanti: You’re covered in blood.
Rei: It’s not mine. Focus!
Kanti sets up the torpedo bangalore, made up of two cylindrical rods, with the second able to fit inside the first. Her handling is shaky and she drops one rod. Rei picks it up for her and gives it back.
Rei: We're nearly there!
Kanti pushes the torpedo bangalore into the seawall.
Rei: Pull it! Pull it!
Kanti: Fire in the hole!
Kanti scrambles backwards and the bangalore explodes, tearing a hole in the seawall for the soldiers to pour through, dirt pouring down like rain.
Sokolov: Weapons ready! Fix bayonets!
Kanti fumbles for her bayonet and fixes it to her rifle. You can now use this as a melee weapon against enemy infantry.
Rei: Ready to see your first Ork?
Sokolov: Attack!
Sokolov leads the troops through the hole – and many, though not Sokolov, are cut down.
Rei: Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!
Sokolov: Push forward!
After passing through the hole, you are faced with a clearing sprinkled with tank traps and barbed wire. After that, trenches, and then the bluffs with fortifications spitting machine gun fire.
Rei: Into the trench! Hurry!
Soldier: Orks!
You now face your first Ork drones as you push towards the trenches. Once you get into the trench, you slowly clear it and a mortar position, presumably losing Health as you do. Once done, you turn a corner deeper into the trenches where Rei is located.
Rei: That wound looks bad! Here, take this!
Rei throws a health pack to Kanti. The player can now call on Rei, when the squad meter fills, to add a pack for a total of four.
Kanti: Many thanks!
The player moves through the trenches, clearing out Ork drones. Friendly troops leap across the trenches. The player then gets to the end of the trenches and reaches the bluffs covered by Ork fortifications. A slope goes uphill between the bluffs but machine gun fire pins the friendly troops down and makes it impassable.
Khand: We can't advance with those MGs firing on our position!
Sokolov: Hold tight. Fire support incoming!
Khand: Kanti, mark the target!
Khand throws a canister to Kanti. Kanti catches it and throws it uphill towards the Ork bunkers. Red smoke emanates. Sokolov is shouting into a radio.
Sokolov: Kestrel, target is lit up! Hit it now and hit it hard!
Radio: Roger, we have your smoke visual. Attack run inbound.
Explosions hit the MG bunker as rockets from a trio of dive-bombing jets which resemble de Havilland Vampires (in this universe called Banshees) come in and obliterate the fortifications. The jets pass by close overhead.
Tao: That's it! Let 'em have it!
Adlai: MGs are dead!
Kanti: (laughs) They tore them to shreds!
Sokolov: Get to the top!
You and your squad move up the hill – a wounded Ork, both arms missing, stumbles from the smoke and still tries to fight by biting at Sokolov. Sokolov shoots it down.
Sokolov: Crazy bastards.
More Ork infantry advance.
Ork: I shall wear your hide as a coat!
After defeating these Orks, the player advances to the top of the hill through which additional trenches burrow.
Sokolov: Kanti; I need you and Rei to take point and clear those bunkers! Go!
Rei: Had to be us!
You move in with your squad. There are five bunkers to clear. The first has a clearing full of mortar positions, where Ork infantry defend, and there’s more firing at you from inside the bunker itself.
Sokolov: Orks are dug in. Kanti, get a grenade in that bunker!
You break into the bunker and clear it out, including the machine gun post covering the beach.
Rei: First one’s down!
Sokolov: Bunker’s clear – everyone out.
You move on. Taking the adjoining trenches, you come across an Ork Officer – larger and more heavily armoured than the Drones you’ve been fighting so far – holding a human soldier by the neck. Assuming you shoot him in the head, the only non-armoured part, he’ll go down and the soldier is saved.
Soldier: Thanks! I owe you!
If not, and your bullets bounce off the Officer’s armour, he crushes the man’s neck in his hand and comes for you.
After that, you drive on through the trenches, killing a few more Orks, before turning and entering an underground bunker. Inside, the entry is covered by a machine gun post.
Khand: MG's pinning us! Someone toss a smoke!
You can do that, or you can perhaps kill the machine gunner. Up to you. Afterwards, you drive on through the underground bunker. It’s a bit of a catacomb full of dormitories and a radio room. Eventually, you clear it.
Khand: Bunker's clear. Let's go!
Sokolov: Everybody out, bunker's clear!
You head back outside, 2 of 5 bunkers complete. You continue through the trenches, meeting fresh Orks.
Rei: There’s artillery hitting the beach! The next assault wave won’t make it!
Khand: Keep pushing! That artillery is hammering our ships!
Kanti: On it, sir! Yeah, I can do this, I can do this…
You carry on through the trench. Some Banshee jet fighters screech overhead. Reaching the entrance to the next bunker, you see a friendly – Corporal Lieu – with an F3 Inferno – a backpack flamethrower. He fires it down the bunker at unseen enemy troops before being gunned down.
Kanti: I'm going in!
Rei: Careful!
You enter the bunker – you can pick up the F3 Inferno as you do, which doesn’t last long but which is fun to use.
Ork: Come, little men!
You clear the bunker. As you reach the machine gun post, you enter into a quicktime moment. Kanti gets ambushed around a corner by an Ork soldier, who grabs her by the throat and pins her to the wall, but she jams her combat knife into his neck. Falling from his grasp, she sees the machine gunner just as a shell from a ship offshore hits the bunker dead-on and blows it, and him, to smithereens. Rei appears from the dust and helps Kanti to her feet.
Rei: Shit! Fucking Navy. Don’t they believe in us?
Returning from the machine gun nest, some Orks have shown up to try and retake the bunker. Take them out and then the bunker’s cleared.
The next bunker is just a hop from this one – you enter, at first finding nobody, before discovering an Ork pinning an Imperial soldier to the wall.
Soldier: Somebody help!
You, I should hope, kill the Ork.
Soldier: Thanks! Oh, hey, a girl…
Kanti: You wish.
You drive into the bunker, in the heart of which is a mortar position, and take out the Ork defenders. With that, the bunker is cleared.
Khand: Move up, move up!
Everyone rallies at the big steel door at the end of the bunker.
Khand: Adlai. Tao. With me. Kanti, you and Rei clear the next bunker. Rally at the top of the bluff, and for fuck’s sake try not to get yourselves killed.
You interact with the big steel door and open it, before going with Rei down some more trenches.
Kanti: Alright, Rei. One more!
Rei: We got this!
You turn a corner into a clearing before the bunker. There’s Orks both defending it on the ground and a sniper on top of the bunker itself. After dealing with this, you head inside, Rei behind you.
As you enter the bunker, Kanti is ambushed by an Ork Major – she is thrown to the floor and the Ork stands over her, pulling out a knife.
Ork: Never did fear smell so sweet.
Rei jumps onto its back and holds onto him around the neck. The Ork manages to throw Rei onto the ground before stabbing her through the belly.
Kanti: Rei! Oh, shit, no!
The Ork soldier leaves the wounded Rei, knife still sticking from her stomach, and approaches Kanti.
Ork: Stand and face me, woman. Show some honour.
Kanti stands and fights the Ork, which through its superior strength easily ends up on top of her, taking away her knife and now pushing it down towards her with both hands. Then, Kanti’s hands light up and the flames return – her whole hands are on fire. The Ork roars in pain and surprise and backs away, looking at its burned hands, before Kanti runs at him as the flames go out and tackles him to the ground. The Ork is still stronger and goes back to throttling her – but they’ve fallen near Rei, who yanks the knife out of her belly and jams it into the Ork’s chest.
Ork: The glory…
The Ork dies. Kanti climbs off and approaches Rei, who suddenly brandishes a pistol.
Kanti: Whoa, Rei…
Rei: Duck!
Kanti does so and Rei shoots the unseen Ork which was behind her. Kanti looks back to Rei, who is dealing with quite a lot of pain.
Kanti: Come on, you’re okay, you’re okay.
Rei: I can't walk.
Kanti pulls up Rei’s uniform to see her stomach – the wound is gushing blood.
Kanti: Oh, shit…
Rei: That bad?
Kanti: It’s not great.
Rei: Would you mind getting me out of here?
An explosion, presumably artillery – Kanti looks down the bunker to see it shudder, rubble falling from the ceiling.
Kanti: Yeah, course, no problem Kinsi, just stay with me, okay? Can you do that?
Rei: I’m gonna have to try. Pulling that knife out was pretty fucking stupid, huh?
Kanti: No comment. Come on.
The player starts dragging Rei out of the bunker and outside. Across a pretty dangerous clearing are friendly lines.
Kanti: We've gotta get back to friendly lines!
Kanti starts dragging Rei across the grass
Rei: On your left!
Kanti shoots the Orks which appear from the left with her pistol and keeps going.
Rei: You’re gonna… have to tell me… how you did that fire thing.
Kanti: I will when I figure it out myself!
They keep going.
Kanti: Not much further. Just keep pressure on that wound.
Rei: I’m trying!
Kanti drags Rei to a wall of sandbags and clambers over them.
Kanti: We gotta take cover!
Rei, in what is pretty clearly a painful endeavour, follows suit and lays in the mud. With her pistol, Kanti faces the Orks now coming for them.
Ork: Tasty, salty man-flesh!
Rei: How many?
Kanti: Too many!
Once the Orks are dispatched, Kanti looks back down at Rei.
Kanti: We're clear! Come on!
Kanti starts dragging Rei through the mud.
Rei: You call that fuckin' clear?
They skirt the edge of the trenches – an Imperial soldier with a flamethrower is dousing a group of Orks in fire. They continue along the edge of the trench, which is lined with barbed wire and so inaccessible, at least for Rei.
Rei: I'm losing too much blood. I think. You need more than half, right?
Kanti: Just hang in there! I gotta find a clearing to get in the trench!
Kanti places Rei down as smoke canisters pop, obscuring the next Ork wave to come their way.
Ork (from somewhere in the smoke): The clan will feast on you!
Kanti: Keep your head down!
Rei: Did you get 'em?
Kanti: They keep coming! How many of these fuckers are there?!
After taking out four or five, Kanti turns back to Rei.
Rei: Watch out!
Rei, with her sidearm, shoots down an Ork drone running at them from behind.
Rei: Still got it.
Kanti: Now’s our chance!
Kanti keep dragging Rei along the edge of the trench, smoke from the Ork canisters obscuring everything. As she goes, an Ork grenade lands at her feet.
Kanti: Fuck!
Kanti throws grabs it and throws it away. She sees an open area in the trench.
Kanti: Bingo!
Kanti jumps down into the trench, up to her ankles in mud, then turns back to Rei.
Kanti: I got you!
Rei rolls off the edge of the trench and lands in the mud at Kanti’s feet. A few more Orks appear from the smoke and Kanti shoots them down. She then looks down at Rei, who’s on the edge of losing consciousness, and then looks down the trench where more Ork infantry are coming at them.
Kanti: Oh, give us a break!
Kanti takes them out. Then, she turns back to Rei and starts dragging her down the trench.
Rei: Oh, wow, I'm actually bleeding out.
Kanti: Just keep pressure on it!
Rei: I’m trying! I’m trying!
Kanti: Almost there!
They reach some concrete steps – a friendly soldier is at the top.
Soldier: Come on up here! Move, move!
Kanti starts dragging Rei up the stairs – the soldier runs down and helps.
Soldier: I got you!
Two Orks come around the corner – someone on the top of the stairs shoots them both down. They reach the top of the stairs and find themselves in the middle of a friendly improvised triage centre. Kanti lays Rei down, whose face is very dazed, as she flicks off her helmet, blood trickling from her mouth.
Kanti: Okay. Stay with me. Healer!
Nobody comes – everyone’s busy.
Rei: I need morphine. All the morphine.
Kanti takes out a syringe of morphine, pulls off the cap with her teeth, and injects Rei in the thigh. Rei’s breathing is strained and painful. Kanti puts a hand under her head as a pillow.
Kanti: You gotta hang on. Those girls in Lutetia are waiting for you.
Rei: Really?
Kanti: Of course.
Rei: I… uh… how about another look at your sister?
Rei manages a smile, sniggering through the pain, and Kanti laughs, too.
Kanti: You’re infuriating.
Rei: It's okay. I can't see shit. I'm just gonna rest right here.
Rei’s eyes close.
Kanti: No, no, no, you need to stay awake. Hey.
Kanti puts her hand against Rei’s face, slapping her awake, and Rei’s eyes open.
Rei: Mona…
Kanti: I'm here.
Rei makes eye contact.
Rei: Help me.
Kanti: I need a fucking Healer!
A Healer finishes treating a wounded soldier and rushes over, taking over from Kanti in trying to stop the bleeding.
Healer: I got this! Go!
Kanti looks back down at Rei.
Kanti: But… but I…
Sokolov appears, standing over them.
Sokolov: Kanti! He'll take care of her. I need you with me. (to others) Listen up! There's an Ork cannon just a little up the road. It's tearing up the beach – we’re gonna stop it. Let's roll!
Kanti looks back down at Rei, who’s reaching out to her. Kanti takes her hand for a moment.
Kanti: Just stay alive, okay?
For a moment, with Rei on the very edge of death, little flickers of her memories flash before Kanti’s eyes. We see her mother telling her she’s a disappointment, Rei sitting in a prison cell, and then being told by a recruiting officer that “the Army’s running out of men – we need some ladies ready to be heroes.” Then Kanti returns to lucidity and Rei’s face.
Rei: I promise.
Their hands part and Kanti stands, grabbing a rifle, and joins the rest of the squad.
Sokolov: Check your ammo and grenades!
Khand: You heard him! Up the road, now!
Kanti and the rest of the squad move out of the top of the bunker, along a field pock-marked with craters, then go onto a dirt road leading towards a farm.
Kanti: Moving up!
Khand: Let's move!
Sokolov: Be ready – these Orks don’t look like the surrendering type!
You keep moving up the road, finding some dead cows as you go.
Khand: Move fast! They're shelling the beach to shit!
You reach the target – a machine-gun nest is set up in a half-destroyed farmhouse and starts shooting at you as you appear.
Sokolov: MG in the hay loft! Take cover and take it out!
After taking out the machine gun, you keep moving up to fight Orks among the farmhouses and hay bales. A large artillery cannon is in the centre and you move to clear it and secure the area, moving in a couple of the farmhouses to do so.
Adlai: Where’s all the civilians?
Khand: In the Ork’s stomachs, probably!
Once you’ve cleared everything, silence seems to fall.
Soldier: Orks coming in from the south! A lot of them!
Sokolov: They’re gonna try to retake the cannon! We gotta hold this position!
Khand: Not a step backwards!
The squad defends the position as a couple waves of Orks swarm towards them. You can use the machine gun posts in the upper floors of the farmhouses to help fight them off.
Adlai: There’s too many of them!
Khand: Hold! Have courage!
Still the Orks swarm the field to the south – until explosions start to blow them away. Termite tanks appear from the left, their 45mm guns tearing through the Orks, which are either slaughtered or flee.
Tao: Our boys are coming in!
Adlai: Look at them scatter!
Sokolov: Alright, everyone. We mopped them up good. I don’t think they’ll be back.
Khand: Clear! Destroy that cannon!
Kanti goes to the cannon and crouches down behind it. An Imperial soldier appears next to her.
Soldier: Thermite!
The soldier carries a number of thermite charges inside his helmet like a bucket and empties them out in front of Kanti. Kanti lights one of them.
Kanti: Fire in the hole!
Everyone backs away – you probably should too – and the thermite explodes. The cannon is destroyed.
Sokolov: Excellent work, Kanti. Alright, everyone, rally on me to the assembly point. Khand, I'll need a casualty report. We lost so many.
Khand: But we took the beach.
Sokolov: What a price.
At the rally point, Rei is on a stretcher on the ground, a cigarette in her mouth as Tao is knelt next to her.
Rei: Kanti...
Rei tries to sit up and Tao puts out a hand to encourage her to lay back down. Given the pain on Rei’s face, that’s probably a good idea.
Tao: Man, I thought I'd seen everything…
Kanti: She gonna be okay?
Tao: Yeah. They taped her up pretty good.
Rei: I should’ve stayed on the boat.
Tao: Oh, now she tells us.
Kanti: Hey, what you did back there… I owe you. Big time.
Rei: I’d say we're even.
Kanti: We'll see this through.
Rei smiles.
Rei: To the end. I guess.
Kanti: Whenever that may be.
Sokolov and Khand walk by behind Rei; Sokolov addresses everyone. Kanti glances up at them, then back at Rei, who just gives her a knowing nod, then stands as she looks back at their superiors.
Sokolov: Beachhead's secured. We'll bivouac at the second hedgerow after the ridge. It’s not over, everyone.
Behind them, a couple of dead Orks are being examined. Adlai is taking photos of one while a soldier gently kicks the head of another.
Soldier: Stop kicking it.
Soldier #2: I don’t wanna.
Khand regards Kanti. There’s blood in his beard.
Khand: Welcome to the Smiling Sixty Sixth. You're a long way from home, farm girl.
Khand walks off. Sokolov watches Kanti, then approaches when Khand is out of earshot.
Sokolov: That’s his way of saying he’s grateful. You did well. Not bad for your first day.
Kanti: Thanks, sir. I, uh…
Sokolov puts a hand on Kanti’s shoulder.
Sokolov: You'll be alright, child.
Kanti: Yes, sir.
Sokolov pats her shoulder, nods, then walks off. Kanti looks down at her hands, covered in dirt and blood, which hold each other before slowly separating.
Kanti: Course I will.
The level ends.

1. Back story, & relative info... Ex bf (36) & I (38) broke up on Christmas day. Throughout the 2 years of dating, he was violent with me 3 separate incidents, Christmas being the last time. He & I never lived together, however he lives up the street from me. I am situated on a dead end, & he is up the road, past the 4way stop sign. Our children are the same age & they are still friends.
   
2. Incidents in question... Immediately after I broke up with him, he continued to call, text, & randomly show up to my house. He would say he's changed, & I rejected his request to get back together. After the advances stopped he tried to be the good samaritan, by coming to my house to tell me my tire looked low, or offer to take my kids with his kids to do things. In February, he randomly showed up, insisted that he run errands with me. I was scared to say no face to face. When he left, so that I could get ready, I called him explaining plans changed. Over the phone he begged me to let him drive me where I needed to go, & I declined. Less than 5 minutes later, he walked into my house, & went to my bedroom, where I was getting ready. He again begged me to let him drive me & I declined & told him he needed to get out of my house. Later that day I sent him a message saying that I wanted to have no contact with him, & he was making me feel uncomfortable. Since then, he will randomly drive down my road, turn around in my neighbors driveway & go back past my house. I've had company over, & I think since there was another vehicle in my driveway, he will drive down my dead end to see who it is. I stopped going to the local park to walk, because he started randomly showing up to the park. If I walk around the neighborhood, I will purposely avoid going down his road or near his house, but he'll randomly drive past me multiple times as I'm walking. He's done this on 4 separate occasions. I had an old friend from hs who a man visit me & the ex bf sped past my house, peeled out in the neighbors driveway to turn around, then sped back in the direction of his home. 2 of my neighbors approached me saying that they see him driving & sometimes walking by my house starting as early as 0530.
   
3. Why I'm questioning the stalking allegation... He has not contacted me since I asked him to stop in February. He has not threatened me since we broke up. I am more annoyed & angry than scared. He is just making his presence known. Like non verbally telling me he is still here. It almost feels like intimidation but I'm angry about it, not fearful.
   

“Miss Alexandria?” The child called out, tugging on the warrior’s dress. She had been asleep in her rocking chair, enjoying the small amount of rest she got from the chaotic orphanage. She opened her one good eye, staring down at Bronson.
“Did Lucy hit you with her training sword again? Honestly, she’s going to make a feisty warrior someday.” Alexandria chuckled, only to squint when she noticed the look of fear on Bronson’s face. She immediately stood up from her chair, staggering a little as the chair violently rocked from the sudden movement. “What happened?”
“Robed people. Lots of them! They came out of the woods and grabbed Lucy and the others. I… I wanted to help, but…” Bronson teared up, wiping his snotty nose on the edge of her dress.
“No, no, dear. You did good. Now I can rescue them. If you didn’t tell me, I might never have known. Now, where did they go?”
“T-towards the waterfall. The one near the big dumb dumb rock.”
“The dumb dumb rock? Oh, right, the one you all drew a face on. Never thought the dumb dumb rock would become a marker. Stay here and keep quiet. If anyone comes to the door that isn’t me, hide. If they find you, stab em with something pointy.” Alexandria instructed.
Alexandria went and found her sword, sliding it into its sheath. As she was about to leave, she heard Bronson call out. The child was already rummaging through the kitchen, looking for something sharp to hide with.
“Are they monsters?”
“Worse.” She headed out, following the path the kids took, finding her way quickly towards the dumb dumb rock. From the rock, she followed the water, seeing bloodstains along the way. As she continued to follow the stains, she finally came to the slavers’ camp, noticing that the blood hadn’t come from a child. Instead, it came from a slaver who was holding his shoulder.
“She stabbed me. The little brat stabbed me with my dagger. What sort of kid does that?” The slaver whined to his unsympathetic friend. “Not to mention she was biting my arm the whole time I carried her, calling me all sorts of names. Who raised that monster?” Alexandria smirked, unable to help feeling a little proud of what she was hearing. “Good job, Lucy.” She whispered to herself as she pushed past the nearby trees, stepping out into the clearing. As soon as she stepped out, she drew her blade.
She swiftly beheaded the wounded slaver, not bothering with a grand entrance. The slavers’ friend too stunned to move after the strike. With the first slaver down, she went straight for the other man, driving the blade into his knee before he could even think about getting up. Alexandria leaned her weight onto the handle of the blade, pushing it deeper.
“Where are they?”
“Where are who?”
“My kids.” She put more of her weight onto the handle, staring into his eyes as she did. “Where are they?”
“Boss has them. I’m only the one that grabs them. I don’t have any other role in the-“ She swung her fist, cracking it against his jaw. After the hit, she pulled her blade free and held the sword to their chest.
“And the boss is?”
“Right behind you.” A grizzled voice laughed. A hand went to wrap around her throat, only to miss as she ducked and sent an elbow flying into the man’s stomach. Alexandria glanced back at the man, noticing a dagger in the man’s scabbard. She pinched the dagger and drove it into his stomach.
“Attack before speaking. That would be my advice to you if you weren’t a dead man. Now I’ll ask once this only once. Where are my kids? The answer will determine how quick this all is.” Her attention was pulled away from the common slaver, focusing on their boss. She shoved the man to the ground and placed her foot on the wound, applying unhelpful pressure, digging the hell of her shoe against it.
“Go to hell.” He said, coughing up blood. Trying to keep some bravado in this situation.
Alexandria saw something strange on the man’s face. That split second smirk. She knew what was coming. Her back was turned and that idiot behind her had found a weapon. She could easily kill him before he attacked, but she wanted to give them a brief glimpse of hell before they went there. As the sword pierced her toned body, she didn’t even flinch, feeling the hot pain that she had felt hundreds of times. The confident grin of the boss fading as the grey-haired warrior still stood over him.
He couldn’t speak, but there was something about his look that amused her. The boss’s eyes were wide, filled with fear as he squirmed beneath her foot. Alexandria turned her head, peering over her shoulder at the slaver behind her. They had already released the sword and were fleeing back towards the dumb dumb rock. As they were about to escape, a small child jumped out wielding a sword nearly as big as herself. She swung it, almost taking her own arm off with the weapon. The blade collided with the slaver, hitting their side, throwing them to the floor.
“LUCY?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
“I… hah.. heard your voice, so I escaped from the rope they tied us up with.” She hunched over, panting, trying to get her breath back.
“Look away for a moment, dear.” She said as she placed her foot over the boss’s mouth, trying to muffle his screams as she killed him. Once she was done with the boss, she went over to the other slaver. Alexandria making quick work of them, too. When she turned back to Lucy, she could see her peeking through her fingers.
“Wow, you were so cool. You were like. Swing! Woosh, bang.” Lucy cheered.
“I was not like swing, whoosh and bang. It was swing, slash, chop.”
“Whatever, it was cool. When are you going to teach me that?”
“Aren’t you a little scared? You were just being held by slavers?”
Lucy placed a finger to her lip, thinking about it. Before responding with a loud.
“NOPE. I knew you would save me. Plus, Bronson escaped. It was only a matter of time before you got here.”
“Your confidence in me is charming. Now, where are the others?”
Alexandria followed Lucy to a tent, helping to free the others. When she finished freeing the last child, she found herself a little confused. Why did they all look so afraid of her? Had they heard the screams? Alexandria couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious about her warrior ways. She was trying so hard to be a good caretaker. Sadly, a scarred and one-eyed warrior didn’t make the most motherly figure.
“Um, Mom?” Lucy said.
“Yes, dear?” Alexandria felt her heart jump for joy at being called mom, those worries leaving her for a moment, as she crouched before Lucy. “What is it, dear?”
“You have a sword stuck in you… Wait, I’ll get it.”
“Wait, Lucy!”
Without wasting a moment, Lucy tugged on the sword, pulling it out, much to the horror of the other children. The others assuming they had just watched their caretaker get brutally killed in front of them. When the sword was pulled free, the wound closed.
“I’m ok. I promise. It’s a magic trick. Please stop crying.” Alexandria gave Lucy a cold, motherly stare. The child guiltily looking away, pretending not to notice it.
Eventually Alexandria calmed the children down, guiding them all home. As they neared the orphanage, she noticed someone had forced the door open. She released her grip on the children’s hands, rushing into the orphanage.
“WHO THE HELL IS IN HERE? I’M IN A BAD MOOD, SO UNLESS YOU WISH TO SEE YOUR OWN INSIDES I WOULD SUGGEST LEAVING.” She screamed, hoping she was out of earshot of the children. As she glanced around the room, she would notice a rather proud Bronson holding a fork while a man sat in her rocking chair, nursing his shoulder.
“Trent? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, hey. I just heard some slavers were in the area and wanted to warn you. When I noticed the door was locked, I assumed the worst and broke it open to offer my support. Well, seems you didn’t need my help. Your guard valiantly stabbed me with a fork.” Alexandria turned to Bronson, who triumphantly held his fork up, showing her. She let out a giggle as she walked over to Bronson, ruffling his hair before turning to her friend.
“You let yourself get stabbed by a fork? Your reflexes have gotten slow. Were all my years of training you for nothing? Also, what is with that beard? How do you ever expect to find a nice wife if you can’t keep yourself looking tidy? Oh, is that mud on your shoes, too?” Alexandria grinned, giving him a lecture. She could see him sliding down deeper into the chair, in more pain from the lecture than the fork wound. When she finished tormenting him, she finished it with. “It’s good to see you again, friend. I’ll be right back.”
“I kept him here all by myself.” Bronson smiled.
“Yes, you did. Now be a good boy and make sure the others are ok when they get inside.”
The rest of the children entered, Lucy still holding the sword that she had pulled from her mother. When she saw Trent, she threw the sword aside, jumping onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Uncle Trent, it’s so good to see you again. I stabbed someone today.”
“Huh? Oh, um. That’s nice.” He said, patting her back, before giving the other kids a smile.
“Uncle Trent? Where?” Bronson muttered, staring at the man.
“Right here. How could you not tell it was him? He’s Mom’s friend. He used to travel with her a lot. She said he was hopeless. Remember?”
“Ouch, you didn’t have to repeat that part. I’m more of a historian than a fighter. It’s not my fault I’m a little hopeless with a weapon. I can carry my own in a fight, though.” He tried to defend himself. Wanting to remind them that being an adventurer was secondary to his work as a historian.
“Uncle Trent? You’ve gotten fatter.” Bronson said with a harsh, unfiltered bit of childish honesty.
“Oh, um.”
“I didn’t know you had a beard.” Bronson joined the hug, getting on the other side of Trent.
“I thought it made me look more sophisticated. Don’t you agree?”
“It makes you look old.” Bronson responded.
“Ah. Maybe I should shave it.” He laughed, only to see Alexandria watching him, a smile on her face as she threw the bandages on his lap.
Aren’t you going to fix me up?”
“It’s just a scratch. You can handle it. I have to make sure the kids are alright, anyway. You can stay for dinner if you would like to, Uncle Trent.”
“Don’t you start calling me that, too.”
“You should be happy. It means they think of you as family. I guess you spend a lot of time around here. “
“Of course I do. I record history and you’re the best source of it I can find. No one else has lived-“
“Shhh.”
“Oh, right. Sorry. I should be going. I just wanted to make sure you’re safe.”
“Make sure I’m safe? I appreciate it, even if it’s unneeded.”
“Aww, you’re going already, Uncle Trent. I was hoping you would spar with me. Mom’s too strong.” Lucy whined.
“Next time. I promise. I’ll bring some presents too.”
“Yay. I want a castle.”
“A little out of my budget. How about a replica sword?”
“Yes. Make sure it looks dangerous.”
“What do I get?” Bronson asked.
“A new fork.”
“Aww, I don’t want a fork.”
“Fine, maybe I’ll find you something else. If you promise to behave.”
“Promise.”
“Ok.” Trent stood up and made his way to the door, giving them a wave. “I’ll see you later. Maybe next week if I’m not busy.”
“Ok, bye Uncle Trent, sorry about stabbing you.” Bronson said.
“It’s ok. I appreciate the apology.”
When he left, Alexandria gathered the children, making sure they were all ok. When she was certain they weren’t hurt, she asked them what they would like to help cheer them up. Lucy tried to get the group to agree on a new sword, but she was outnumbered by the vote for cookies. A vote she wasn’t upset about losing. The kids went to play as Alexandria went to the kitchen, preparing the treats.

demographics: low income, white (technically half white and half asian but i’m going to claim white), divorced parents, from California
hooks: went to a performing arts high school, low income, legacy student, women in stem
intended major: comp sci or engineering (biochemical or biomedical)
stats: UW gpa 3.8 Weighted 4.8 (for ucs they only look at this gpa or a recalculated version of it) SAT: 660 ebrw 790 math took it once without studying gonna retake in august hopefully for a 1500+ possibly 1530+ superscored
coursework: took 12/15 aps offered 5 honors 12 aps (all 5s and 4s so far) 8 community college classes
rank: my school doesn’t rank but I know i’m in the top 9%
awards: -CM classical music awards and honors to the highest state and national levels (similar to abrsm if you know what that is) -music teachers association of california senior award -awarded money from boeing for making a rocket out of a soda bottle -national and state competitive dance titles
extracurriculars: -worked 2 part time jobs to support my family and younger siblings 1 was a manager position at subway 1 is a lifeguard at a local water park -attended an arts school where i went to school for like 10-15 hours a day. performed in over 60 shows in my highschool career (not including freshman year because covid) -performed 15 shows at the major theatre in my city lead and supporting roles -competitive dancer performed in 4 shows a year and 8 competitions -TAed for calculus and tutored students in math -worked as a student music teacher -graduating with a biliteracy seal in mandarin and iworked as a translator for foreign students at a summer school near me -helped start a science nhs chapter at my school (kinda a weak ec) i raised the money to pay for the club lol -generic nhs and csf + some random service hours
essays: i think my essays are strong esp my common app. it’s about why i love taking out the trash LOR: honestly probably mid
schools: mit, harvard, yale, stanford (legacy), usc (legacy), udub, ucberk, uci, ucsd, ucsb, ucsc, cal poly slo

I don’t understand how this many riders of Rohan pulled up to Minas Tirith in the final battle when there werent nearly this many that were showed before in the movie? For example when they made camp on that cliffside, it looked like there were barely any knights! Did they somehow get more on the way? Or am i just missing something haha. Thx!

I posted a video of me playing the piano a couple of days ago. I'm new on reddit and I'm a 22 year old pianist that it's just trying to show my love for classical music. A lot of people complemented me and gave me a lot of good criticism and advices so I could do better and I loved that, however, two users made my life a living hell saying I was shit and I couldn't do anything and that I was an awful teacher if I was teaching kids playing like this.
Before you start insulting a teenager think about your kids if you have any, think about your sister, your mom. I don't understand what people gain from being so rude and horrible to others, why you have to make someone feel so bad about their passion when I'm just trying to show the people what I love? What shocked me the most is that this two individuals were professors and I could just imagine how miserable their students must feel if they talk like this to a teenager. It's horrible for me how someone can hate so much behind a screen, but then I think... they are hating because they aren't happy with themselves, because when they put that screen down, they are nothing. No one to be heard. Im really happy with how I play and what I have achieved as s teacher with only 22 years old. I have recognition by many companies and a lot of people know who I am. Before you hate on someone just know that you have no idea what that person is going through, and you hating just reflects your own insecurities into them. Don't be an asshole, no one is perfect and that is why we are all in this community, it's really sad to see people that will even critic about my house when that is not even near the point. It's disgusting to see so much hate towards a teenager trying to spread the word, calling me a psycho and telling me that I'm a mentally Ill women just because I didn't do a dynamic right, you are disgusting. Playing with mental health is a really low ball and it shouldn't be played around like that. I blocked this person because it was clear that all they wanted was attention. If you want to see their comments go to my interestellar video I'm pretty sure they are still there. I'm a person that is really confident in herself but you never know when they target someone that is not.
Don't be an asshole.

My wife is joining me for a conference in July. It will be her birthday. We are almost 50. We are looking to have a few nice dinners while we are here. Spending 200 something dollars a meal not an issue and we won't have more than one drink a piece. We are looking for just a quiet enjoyable quality dinner. Places just off the casino floor near the action isn't a positive selling point. Willing to dress up some slacks and dress shirt for me a dress for her. Not big into seafood. She has a shellfish allergy. We are also don't care much about a chef's creativity or fresh new spin on food people have been eating for years. We sort of like food the way people have been eating it for years just fine. I am just looking for quality, something we can easily talk with each other, and a nice experience. We will be staying at the Palazzo but can taxi / uber around. The first nice dinner I took her to when we met was Antoine's in New Orleans.
I am actually here now just by myself and can scout out some options people make to see if they would be good fits. I am at Cisco Live down at Mandalay Bay but can walk monorail around. When I am here by myself I am a low life poker player so lot of sandwiches and quick bites but I will swap out poker time to take her to nice dinners and maybe some shows if she likes.
Any recommendations chime in.

AIframe+=1 if AIframe > pSmart: updatePlayer() 

AIframe += 60.0 * delta if AIframe > pSmart: updatePlayer() 

First Previous Next ​

On the shipyards orbiting the forge world Exznuvva:

Laborer 12 32 1453 offered gratitude to the Priestesses, for their sight had spared the lowly such as he. If not for the beetles, his aging bones would have made his worth to the forges fall, and his worth to the alter rise. Give praise to the sight of the Priestesses, for they saw the unworthy who hoard their blood from Axzuur when worthy Axxaakk did yet draw breath. Yet, he was pleased to make worth of himself at the shipyards. Why shouldn't he? The glorious vessel would fly forth into the starfields of the unworthy to cull them from the lands which rightfully belonged to the Emperor and Empress, and their subordinates, thus sparing those of little worth who would be required to sate the thirst of Axzuur, may the stars tremble at his step, in their stead. How he hated the cowards for hiding so long from their fate, for if they had been discovered earlier, perhaps his father would yet live.
Once he had sufficiently abased himself to the local shine to the Empress, may she see where the unworthy hide, he made his way to his assigned dwelling place. Indeed, today was a very good day, as extraction ships had returned with all which is needful to his trade in even greater numbers than from the onset of the conquest, thus increasing his worth. If he could gain just a little more worth to the shipyard, he may be assigned apprentices to guide that he might make those young of little worth escape the alter. This is why he was pleased as he entered his assigned dwelling place granted him by the generosity of Initiate-Highborn Narrex-Sarvon, may his might ever increase, and was pleased to find his assigned breeding partner also present.
"Partner," she said coolly, "you look pleased."
"The war goes well, and my worth rises despite these bones," he said.
Laborer 22 15 1427 scratched the metal wall with her knuckle horns and asked, "Think you to rise to warrior?"
"Nothing so grand, partner," he laughed. "I hope to be worthy to give instruction to those of little worth as I was or may be."
"This ambition is well, for you can attain it," she said as she swayed toward him, "I too have an ambition. I desire to give birth to a warrior."
"You aim too low, partner, for you could be worthy of a name," Laborer 12 32 1453 said with a gentle smile.
"Jest not!" she snapped in reply.
"I do not," he said earnestly, "for I believe that you could raise better than the raising centers, to become a true mother."
"This you likely say beguiled by my meager beauty. I care not, leave aside your flattery and instead give to me the seed of a warrior."
Laborer 12 32 1453 lay abed in the glow of the completion of his latest task. To sire a warrior might indeed raise his worth, he could only hope that the war last long enough for the proving. He hoped indeed that if his assigned breeding partner did become pregnant from their labors together, she would have occasion to demonstrate her skill with babes, and be allowed to raise it herself, and perhaps even be selected to tend the highborn babes.

On Numiind:

Jax hid in the shadows of an alley and watched the combined arms patrol trundle down the street. It had been thirteen days. Thirteen days and seven refugees laid beneath the waves. But still, they found survivors. Still, they liberated prisoners. Still, they held out. The Republic was coming, so Jax lead his cell. The Republic was coming, so Jax watched the Axxaakk tank and squad trundle down the road. They'd done a little testing, and the hover tanks, well, they didn't like being hit from below. Unsurprisingly, to be sure, but that's why they patrolled with infantry elements now. However, this was their home, not the Axxaakk's. Little did they know that there was a massive cave a mere ten feet below grade. They had learned that there were tunnels, and that the resistance was using them to get around, the consequence of another cell getting wiped out in another mining town, but Jax wasn't just some cop trying to defend his home. He was a trained RNI Drop Trooper, and so he knew how to run opsec. The tank shuddered over the proper location, and he clicked his radio twice. There were seven muted explosions, the Axxaakk infantry stopped and took aim, anticipating the coming attack.
However, they should have looked to their feet where large cracks were spreading in the plascrete in a wide oval with its longer sides kissing the buildings, until the force of the tank's grav drive finally caused the underlying stone to buckle, and the entire formation plummeted forty feet to the hard rock below.
He, Rae, Kie, and Ash popped out of their concealment and laid down supressing fire from their newly elevated positions, and quickly took out the remaining infantry, and also convinced the tankers to stay nice and buttoned up in their tank too damaged to hover anymore. Which was exactly what they needed them to do while Mei blew a nearby levy, allowing the sea to intrude upon that part of the town, and the street, and the hole in it. They waited for the water to settle, and waited some half hour more in silence and stillness. Then, Jax ordered over the radio, "Ash, go take a look."
"You got it boss," the man answered, and try as he might, Jax could not identify the shadow darting through the water which was Ash. He suspected that ash had taken an indirect route, and if he had Jax would approve. The enemy might have rudely refused to die for them. Then, Ash's whiskered face popped out of the water near the center of the new submarine sinkhole. "Looks like they drowned," he said softly into his radio.
"Good," Mei spat over the radio.
"Good work people, now let's get a move on to the next objective," Jax said.
They slipped into the waters of the newly flooded tunnels, and followed Kai to an abandoned mine shaft, where they made their exit some two hours later.
"Alright," Jax said softly, "we'll rest here for a bit."
Rae pat him on the shoulder and said, "You should sleep a little."
"I'm fine."
"Just fifteen minutes, Jax. I can keep watch."
Jax shrugged her touch off and said, "Kia and Ash, take a nap. The rest of you keep watch and eat something. We'll trade off."
"Got it," came the reply.
"Fifteen minutes, wake me up on the dot," Jax murmured to Rae.
She nodded.
One rest and recuperation later, and Ash was sent out to scout the facility. They'd gotten intel on the presence of pups being held hostage in the old school building, which has miraculously escaped bombardment. The public displays that the invaders made of plunging their wicked knives into the bellies of the elderly did not bode well for the captured pups, so Jax and his companions didn't even debate whether they would get the pups away from the invaders, but how and when. The answers to both questions would depend greatly on what Ash came back with.
"Jax," came his voice out of the shadows, "We have some company."
"What do you mean?" Jax asked as his trigger finger started feeling somewhat itchy.
Then, a sound came from the darkness that nearly made him weep, Republican Battle Cant, "Your buddy says you're a vet from the anti-piracy patrols."
"Hell yeah," he choked in return as the looming figure of an Advanced Stealth Drop Surveillance Scout stepped out of the shadows, even as his scout pattern armor shifted its coloration to blend into his surroundings.
"You came!" Rae exclaimed as tears filled her eyed.
"Of course we came. Where did you think the supply drops were coming from. We've determined this town is an ideal drop sight, as this is a main command hub for the enemy ground forces, so I've been preparing things."
"You took out the sacrificer…" Ash said with awe.
"How do you know that?"
Jax realized that the RNI ASDSS wasn't speaking RBC, or even Commercial English, but their own language, and decided to keep on with that, "Because it wasn't us, and there's nobody else holding out here."
"Just you five?"
"Us and the guards securing the refugees down below," Jax said.
"Alright, well that doesn't change anything. What's your coms?"
"Radio. The walkies for ops and HAM between cells."
"You still have HAM radios?"
"A hobby club started by a Human who moved here back just after first contact. It got popular to hear his stories."
"Huh," the RNI ASDSS grunted in a satisfactorily impressed way before he continued, "Okay, I think I'm patched into your frequency. Test test."
Jax nodded when all of the radios also said "Test test."
"Sir-"
"I'm no sir, I'm still a corporal."
"What do we call you, then?"
"Well, you can call me Lost Boy for now. Opsec."
Jax smacked himself on the forehead and said, "Ancestors forgive me."
"Huh?"
"We've been using our real names."
"Well, not to be mean, but you guys don't exactly have a very wide pool of names. They probably think they're code names anyway."
"Okay Lost, we're here on a rescue op. They have pups in there to do Ancestors know what with, and we're not waiting around to watch them get stabbed to death on top of some weird rock."
"Gotcha, I'll find me a good firing position and switch the APR over to quiet mode and provide overwatch."
"Aye, Lost. Signal when you're in position. Three clicks on the radio. Everyone, move out."
"One more thing," the Lost Boy said as the group started breaking up, "The drop pods will be hitting about ten klicks west in about three hours, so let's get the kiddos under cover before then, gotcha?"

In low orbit over Numiind:

Acolyte-Lord Narrex-Quinn and Acolyte-Lord Gukea-Sarvon stood before the display screen and made their report to Priest-Lord Tiglach-Pilexer. They did not dissemble, exaggerate, or otherwise attempt to save face before their commander, as they knew how dire the position of the invasion fleet had become after the destruction of a single diplomatic vessel. They knew well that they may have to crouch before this new foe for the time being, for the High Priestess had seen that their might was great indeed, yet the Dominion of Axxaakk was also mighty. Morover, the ever thirsting Axzuur, may the stars tremble at his steps, commanded their conquest, and could therefore not falter.
However, it was up to those who obey that the triumph be as glorious as possible, lest Axzuur become displeased and demand their blood as the unworthy. Thus, while it might have been wise at another time to embellish the facts in their favor, they knew that such would be short sighted in this case.
Acolyte--Lord Narrex-Quinn was saying, "I do not expect we can begin to dominate the mammal-worms across the planet to such a degree that they resume their industry at our direction."
"Indeed," Acolyte-Lord Gukea-Sarvon agreed, "and we have gathered that which was readily available in either the raw or already processed before we took possession of it."
"Thus, unless we can send one to delay the Terrans, for at minimum two annum, we shall need to move on and raid elsewhere."
"Let it be so," the face on the screen decreed. "Carry off with you those adults who's young you have in custody. They shall make excellent serfs on these wet worlds."
"We obey, Priest-Lord," they intoned as they bowed and their superior cut the communication."
"I shall return to my flagship," Acolyte-Lord Narrex-Quinn said, and the Initiate-Highborn present moved immediately to accommodate this.
"I was pleased to work with you, brother. Would that we had time to subjugate this world. I would think you placed at its alter, and thus find yourself raised up to Priest-Lord."
"My fate is to be covered in blood and glory, brother. Such a task and honor must fall to another."
"It troubles me that we could not crush these mammal-worms even after more than ten days," Acolyte-Lord Gueka-Sarvon grumbled.
"If it were not so, we would not have so many new serfs. It is much the same upon the other worlds infested with these lower creatures," so we have gained much for the Dominion, as have other Acolyte-Lords."
One shuttle ride later, and Acolyte Lord was in his quarters, enjoying a local delicacy, some kind of water animal with fins. Its flesh was pleasantly tender and sweet. He hoped that he would be a part of the forces who would return to this place to conquer this place for this treat alone. His pleasing reflection on future glories was Interrupted by an initiate-Highborn.
"Acolyte-Lord, your leadership is needed in the command throne," the Initiate-Highborn murmured with a proper waist deep bow.
"Return to your station, I come."
"I obey," he said and quickly shuffled away.
Acolyte-Lord was in his subordinate's heels all the way to the bridge, where alarms were blaring, "Report at stations," he commanded.
"Four incoming hyperspace exits detected in the interdiction zone!"
"Ship class estimation!"
"Unknown, Acolyte-Lord! Their shadows are somehow obscured."
"Assume the worst, order all frigates and their escorts to the exit sites!"
"They do exit now!"
"On screen!"
"I obey!"
Acolyte-Lord Narrex-Quinn's amputated hand quaked at the sight of the sensor data rendered visually. The ships were massive, bristling with weapons platforms, communications and network arrays, and bay doors. "Battleships," he whispered in horror.
"A hail comes, Acolyte-Lord!"
"Refuse it!"
The main display screen suddenly lit up with a black banner with a yellow star at its center and what looked to Acolyte-Lord Narrex-Quinn like a glassed planet to one side accompanied by the audio, "We remember the We Sing."
"I said not to accept a hail!"
"Acolyte-Lord, they broke through our system with the hail itself as if they were from a Priest-Master's ship!"

Aboard the Destroyer Tiger Lilly:

The squadron had just exited hyperspace, and the enemy was around the space-otter planet of Numiid in force. There was even a battleship there, or at least what these genocidal scum thought was a battleship. Corporal Linus George sent up a prayer, and clambered into his drop pod. He always hated the space superiority portion of the battle, even against junker pirates, and these freaks had actual weapons. All plasma, but they had reportedly sunk a few Roma Nova ships, which was impressive for plasma only. He was going to show these murderous zealots what happens when you go fucking around and touch a Republican boat. They were in find out time.
First Previous Next ​

A prominent VC told me 9/10 of his portfolio companies had raised prices (directly or indirectly) over the last 12 months.
A quick poll of my network showed a similar trend. A majority raising prices.
With headwinds around acquisition, multiples for venture backed brands shrinking and uncertainty around large scale industry disruption (AI), brands are trying to squeeze what they can from their bases to keep up with revenue projections.
But there is something very dangerous here.This notion that to keep revenue flowing brands should just “raise prices” can be devastating if not executed correctly.
​
I know a company that had negative NPS and their price hike became a PR nightmare.
I know a company that sky rocketed churn when they forced legacy customers to upgrade with a 20% price hike (with 14 days notice).
I know a company that tried to slide in the price hikes by putting it on auxiliary features and overages with no notice. They lost nearly a million in big contracts.
I know a company that didn’t QA things properly and people who downgraded got to keep all their premium account features. They didn’t catch it for months and months.
​
There are so many other stories where price hikes didn’t pan out. They hurt conversions and they spiked churn.
Now for a lot of brands, price hikes make sense.
The economy gives an inherent reason, and if you have an essential product with happy customers, it typically works out well.
But there is so much that goes into a price hike.
How is it positioned? Does it affect all customers or just grandfathered or legacy folks?
Can you change the bundling to increase prices AND make it come across as a win for users?How much warning are customers given? Are customers given options?
Is your product essential? When gas goes up we often bite the bullet and pay even if it’s dramatic. But if your subscription to a magazine you find mildly funny doubles, you likely cancel immediately.
Similarly in tech, the reality is some products are much more ingrained and essential than others. Know your product and ICP.
General things to consider:
1) Nobody likes to just pay $X more for the exact same thing. Always try and improve the package you give or optics in some way when increasing prices. Have a “why” and make it customer focused.
2) Be very careful if your NPS is below 20. It might be wiser to try and pull a feature that is lightly used from the core product and charge as an upsell, to drive up ARPU. Or focus on specific cohorts. While not always true, very low NPS brands often have customers who poll as choosing that software largely BECAUSE it’s cheaper than a better incumbent solution. You mess up pricing, you face a big problem.
3) Give at least 30 days (I like 60-90) until the price hikes hit.
4) Offer annual contracts to secure existing pricing. If you product is north of five figures annually, let users transition with a quarterly plan.
5) QA more than you think you should. I am amazed at how often pricing changes have bugs or issues attached (even with large, established brands)
6) If your pricing change is greater than 10% strongly consider a grandfathering protocol (even if you have to do so selectively)This is just the tip of the iceberg, but this is an important conversation. Pricing is one of the most important aspects of your growth. Make sure if you raise prices you do it with the right optics so you keep customer trust and gain revenue acceleration.

“I just had an idea pop into my head about something to do this coming weekend, and I wanted to bounce it off you two before it slips my mind” My friend Natasha said those words as the three of us sat on my couch one afternoon. I found myself sitting up slightly. Normally, Natasha was the last of our group to suggest things to do, letting Vinny, the third member of our group, or I come up with the plans to keep our free time occupied. The fact she was about to suggest something intrigued me. “What have you got in mind?” I asked her. A smile played over her face as her brown eyes seemed to flash. “How about a little ghost hunting?”
I felt Vinny sit straight up beside me. She had clearly grabbed both our attention now. The three of us were what you might call amateur ghost hunters, using very basic items we bought offline to visit some of the spookier places in the area and posting our adventures on YouTube, sort of like a crappier version of Ghost Adventures. “Now that’s one hell of a good idea” Vinny said, before a puzzled expression spread over his face. “But, I mean, where? We’ve already done most of the places around town. The Tioga building won’t let us in after that…well, what that one resident claims we stirred up in the old ballroom, and I’m not about to make the hours long drive to the Wolf Creek Inn” Natasha’s smile grew wider. “No, we don’t have to even go out of town for this one” she said, her voice dropping low, “What I’m suggesting, is we check out…” her voice trailed off, letting the suspense grow for a few seconds before finishing, “The Egyptian Theatre”
Instantly, Vinny let out a harsh bark of laughter. “HA! Now that’s a good one. You know damn good and well that the society that runs the theater won’t allow us in after hours to ghost hunt. As far as I know, they’ve never allowed any paranormal teams into the place” He pulled a face. “So, how exactly do you propose we get in there? You flutter your eyelashes for the night janitor and use your feminine charms to get us in?” Natasha still grinned, but rolled her eyes at our friend’s quip. “No, actually, I was thinking about using my lock picking skills to get us in” she declared. It was my turn to give her an incredulous look. “You’re joking, right?” I asked. She shook her head. “Nope, I’m dead serious” I let out an incredulous, almost baffled snort of laughter and pulled my glasses off my face, rubbing my eyes.
The country, and, to a large extent, the entire world, became gripped in an interest, sometimes bordering on obsession with all things Egyptian when King Tut’s tomb was discovered over a century ago. Many things came out of this, including the classic 1932 monster movie The Mummy. But, one thing that also came of this fever gripping the country was a desire to build many Egyptian style buildings. And one of the buildings which took this design and ran with it, were the movie theatres. A decade after the legendary discovery, over a hundred theatres had gone up all around the country, their interiors clad with fake temple columns, paintings of sphinxes and Egyptian gods such as Anubis decorating the walls, and hieroglyphs adorning the archways. People flocked in droves to them, both to watch movies, and live performances. But, like all trends, eventually, the interest began to wane, and as the late 20th Century approached, many began to shut down and be either remodeled, or straight up demolished. Today, there’s only between five and eight Egyptian style theatres left in the entire country.
And one just so happens to be right in the town I live in.
When I moved to Coos Bay, Oregon nine years ago, I immediately fell in love with the place. Even though it’s the largest coastal town on the Oregon coast, it’s a place which is more or less perpetually frozen in time, still looking pretty much as it did between thirty and seventy years ago. And, as someone who is not exactly into the modern world, it made a perfect place for me to live and escape away from the 21st Century. I began exploring right away, driving every street of it and the town neighboring it, North Bend, along with walking every alley and back road I could to learn the layout. That’s how I learned about the supernatural element to the town.
There are many places in town which people claim supernatural occurrences take place. From the remains of the old logging buildings on the estuary, to the old Tioga Hotel which has been remodeled into apartments, there is no shortage of ghostly tales. There was even the old McCauley Hospital, which had once been the focal point of the town’s annual ghost walks until it was demolished in 2018. As a side note, I heard a rumor that a couple people broke into that place right before it got torn down. Something sure spooked them, because a friend of mine on the police force told me they gave him a fright, bursting in the night before Easter and rambling about something. I always wondered what they saw in there.
But, for me, the place in town I always loved the most, and enjoyed the most hearing about the ghostly accounts told, was the Egyptian Theatre.
Originally built as a garage in 1922, it was renovated by a man named Charles Noble into a movie theatre in 1925, where it drew in droves of people from around the area to watch films, and enjoy live vaudeville performances. It continued to operate almost to the end of the 20th Century, when other theatres began to attract younger moviegoers, and for a while, it almost seemed as though the historic building might even be closed for good and gutted. But, thanks to the efforts of local preservation societies, it was saved, and now operates as a theatre once again. They mostly play only older movies, along with live performances.
And, of course, it draws curious people for the paranormal rumors surrounding it.
For years, people have reported strange occurrences happening inside the building, both when it’s open, and after hours. Patrons and employees alike have spoken about a pervasive feeling of being watched inside the building, but finding no one there when the place was searched. There have been reports of being touched by invisible hands, a few even pushed slightly. Beyond physical interaction, employees have reported the sounds of old film projectors playing and unseen audiences laughing after hours, along with the eerie playing of the theatre’s Wurlitzer pipe organ, along with a host of other occurrences. No ghost hunting team has ever gone in to try and document these events. And to Natasha, that was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Legal, or not.
“Are you freaking nuts?!” Vinny exclaimed, “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d be in if we got caught breaking and entering? The cops around here are already a bit twitchy with the druggies and the homeless. You wanna give them a reason to throw us into jail alongside them?” Natasha held up a finger, flipping her black hair over her shoulder. “They won’t find out, because I have not one, but two aces in the hole here. The first is that thanks to being friends with Scott, I know the nighttime police sweeps, where they’re going to be and everything. There’ll be an hour long window where they’re not anywhere near the alley where the back door to the theatre is. We can get in and out with no threat of being spotted at all. And the second is, did you forget I’m dating Dylan now?” The realization washed over me like a wave; she had started dating the man who helped the preservation society run the theatre a month or so ago. Damn, she’s been planning this one for a while, I thought.
Vinny had a thoughtful look on his face, his green eyes darting around rapidly, but not seeing. “Hmm” he muttered, then looked at Natasha. “And you’re sure that there’s no chance of us getting caught?” he asked slowly. “Absolutely none” she said, then looked at both of us. “So, how about it?” For a few moments, there was silence, and then Vinny let out a chuckle. “What the hell, why not? The most exciting thing we’ve done the last few weeks is go down to the farmer’s market. This could shake things up a bit” I suddenly became aware that the two of them were looking at me, waiting for me to make my decision. I was always the most sensible of the three of us, doing all I could to keep us out of trouble with others as well as the law. But, I always had one nasty Achilles Heel ever since I had been a child, and that was peer pressure. So, despite the overwhelming feeling that I should tell them no, that I should say we should just find something else to do, I nodded. “Alright, let’s do it” I said simply, causing grins to break out on both of my friend’s faces.
I wish to God in retrospect that I’d just had the damn spine to stand up and say “No”
The rest of the week seemed to pass by faster than usual. Before I knew it, the weekend had arrived. We’d decided that late Saturday night would be the best time to do this, as most places downtown closed up between eleven and midnight, aside from the bars and strip club. To say I felt anxious about breaking the law, something I wasn’t used to doing at all, would be like calling a Megalodon a goldfish, but my worries about disappointing my friends ended up outweighing it. And so, at eleven-thirty, the three of us piled into my beat up Chevy Tahoe, and made our way towards downtown. As I drove us down Ocean Boulevard, which connected the two sides of town, something settled over me. I can’t exactly place it, even to this day. But it was the most uneasy feeling I’ve ever experienced. But I did my best to push it away. It’s nothing, Troy. It’s just because you’re, understandably, worried about this. Plus, the road being deserted isn’t helping much.
My mental chiding seemed to help center me a bit, which was a good thing. The road was now angling downward, and a moment later, we drove into downtown. The darkened shapes of the closed stores seemed to rise up higher on either side of us than they looked during the daytime. We’d decided to cruise by the front entrance first, just to see if anyone were still inside. As I turned the truck onto the main drag, the sign for the theatre rose high above us, a depiction of an Egyptian pharaoh next to the yellow and white letters which proclaimed its name to everyone who drove through town. I spared a glance as we passed it. The lit up marquee windows showed that The Blues Brothers and Jaws would be shown soon. For whatever reason, though, I couldn’t bring myself to look through the glass doors that showed the building’s darkened interior. The uneasy feeling had returned, and, for a moment, it felt as though if I did look, I would see someone, or something staring back out at me. And then we passed it, taking the next right and looping back around to Anderson Ave.
I turned the truck into the narrow alley drive which ran along the back of the theatre and neighboring buildings. Parking right next to the rear doors would be extremely conspicuous, so I pulled up a bit further and parked in a carport like area. Shutting off the engine, I turned to my two friends. “Well, this is it” I said, “Last chance to turn back if anyone’s having second thoughts” I’d hoped that either Vinny or Natasha would’ve gotten cold feet in the last few minutes, allowing us to go do something else. But there was no such luck. “Are you kidding me?” Natasha said from the passenger seat, “We are far too close to back out now!” Vinny grunted from behind me. Well, shit. Resigning myself to the fact they were determined to go through with this, I let a deep breath out through my nose and nodded. The others opened their doors and hopped out. A moment later, I followed.
The night air was cool and crisp on my skin as we slowly walked back down the alley to the rear of the yellow-ish, tan building. Three different sets of red double doors were built into the back of the theatre. Natasha pulled something out of her coat pocket, and I realized, with a small pang of surprise, that it was a lock pick set. A legitimate lock pick set. “Where the hell did you get that?” I whispered to her. She shrugged and smiled. “I have my ways of getting things” she said simply, then pointed to the far right set of doors. “We’ll have a bit of cover from that electrical box. You two keep an eye out while I deal with the lock” And with that, she scurried forward, bending down in front of the door handles. Vinny and I stood guard, each of us looking down both ends of the alley. As the soft sound of Natasha messing with the lock filtered over to me, I realized just how quiet it was. And how eerie hearing downtown so quiet was. Aside from a few distant booms and bangs, and the far off sound of a dog barking, all I could hear was the whistle of the wind as it whipped between the old buildings.
An involuntary shiver cascaded up my spine, and I tried again to reason myself back to a relative sense of calm. “Get a grip, dude, you’re gonna be fine” I whispered under my breath. But this time, it felt as though I weren’t able to entirely convince myself. I suddenly became aware of a creeping sensation, one which made me shoot a look around. Nothing moved in the stillness, no indication of anyone besides us being in the alley. And, yet…I was overcome with the distinct feeling of being watched. Not by either of my friends. But…by someone else. Before I had a chance to even think about it, I heard a rather loud click, and Natasha let out a soft laugh of triumph. “We’re in, ladies and gentleman!” she declared, standing up and pulling on the door. It opened silently, the streetlight in the alley casting a small shaft of light into the darkness beyond. Turning, she waved an arm at Vinny and I. “Come on, let’s get inside”
Before either of us could say anything, she turned and disappeared into the dark. I shot a look at Vinny, who simply shrugged. “After you, my man” he whispered. I let out a deep sigh, and then moved to the door. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the small flashlight, and then pulled on the heavy metal, slipping inside, Vinny right behind me. The darkness swallowed us as the door closed. For a moment, a small rush of panic from not being able to see flashed through me, before a light appeared beside me. It wasn’t from a flashlight, though; instead, a small, orange flame flickered beside me. “Don’t turn on your flashlights yet, just follow me” Natasha said, the flame making her face seem to dance and move behind it. She turned and headed away, leaving us no choice but to follow. I listened to her and didn’t turn on my flashlight. But every fiber of my being was screaming at me to. Because the feeling of being watched out in the alleyway? Had quintupled in here. The best way to describe it, was that we were angrily being stared at. And I didn’t like the sensation one bit.
Natasha led us up a flight of steps and pushed open another door. “We’re here” she said, still keeping her voice low, “You can turn on your flashlights now” Thank you, God, I silently said, snapping mine on and casting a bright white light into the room we’d entered. A moment later, so did my two friends’ lights. The beams played around, and I heard Vinny let out a bit of a gasp. “Ho-lyyyy shit” he muttered.
Natasha had guided us into the main theatre. The ceiling rose high above our heads, almost out of sight of even the flashlights. Rows upon rows of red movie seats stretched out and away from us, seeming almost unending in the shadows. The walls were all covered in hieroglyphs, all still original from the 1920s. To our left, the second story, which housed a smaller row of seats, along with the projection room rose about twenty feet above us. And to the right, was the stage itself. It was flanked by two huge columns, the screen rolled up and revealing a mosaic of an Egyptian building on the back wall, with two men clutching staffs sitting on either side. Directly in front of the stage sat the organ, its seating bench tucked beneath it.
“Okay, this is a trip to be in at night!” Natasha exclaimed excitedly, then pulled the backpack she’d been wearing off her shoulders. Dropping it into a seat, she unzipped it and began pulling items from it. “Guys, here” she said, holding them out. Vinny stepped forward and grabbed the camcorder from her; as someone who’d had a lifelong dream of being a filmmaker, he was our resident cameraman. I stepped forward and took two items from her: an infrared thermometer and an EVP recorder. The rest, she placed on the ground, and then faced Vinny. “Alright, tell me when you’re recording” He fumbled with the camcorder for a second, then shot her a thumbs up. Instantly, she took on a somber, eerie expression, giving an admittedly creepy look at the camera. “Well, well, welcome back to The Three Ghostkuteers, everyone. I hope you all have been well since our last trip. Tonight, you join us in a very, very special place, and one close to home for us. We are currently in the Egyptian Theatre in Coos Bay, Oregon, one of the last remaining in the country. It was built in the 1920s by a man named Charles Noble-“
I turned away, tuning her out as I did. The woman really, really enjoys being in front of the camera. Better her than me. Shining my light around, I looked up at the balcony. I could see the small hole in the projection booth where the movie projector would shine out onto the screen. Something caught the beam’s light, reflecting off it slightly, and I aimed the light at the wall. It was a wrought iron light fixture, one which had been shaped into the figure of a King Cobra, poised to strike. Gazing around, I saw they adorned much of the walls. I let out a small shudder at it. God, do I hate snakes. Thankfully, though, the feeling of being watched I’d had in the alley and the darkened back of the theatre had seemingly disappeared. Yeah, see, what’d I tell you, Troy? Nothing but your nerves.
Natasha had finished her opening monologue and moved to the edge of the stage, on which she placed the small, square spirit box. “And now, let’s see if anyone would like to speak with us” she said, flicking it on. Instantly, the silence of the theatre was shattered by the sound of static, intermittently interrupted by quick snippets of radio shows being picked up. “Is there anyone here who’d like to talk to us?” she called out into the huge room. The static and snippets were the only sound to answer her. After a minute, she tried again. “Are there any spirits who’d like to communicate with us?” There was still nothing. Vinny panned the camera from the box to Natasha as she paced back and forth for a few minutes. A small look of disappointment flooded over her face, but she instantly plastered it over with the same look she’d given the camera before. “Well, it looks like the spirit box isn’t gonna work tonight, so we’re gonna have to try something else” She pulled out an EVP recorder identical to mine and switched it on. “Let’s try this instead, shall we? Remember, by the way guys, if you’re new here and want to see more, to like and subscribe-“
I turned away again, feeling a small pang of irritation flow through me. This is freakin’ ridiculous, man. The longer we stay in here, the more chance we have of getting caught. Truth be told, as much as I enjoyed ghost hunting, I didn’t even really believe in the paranormal. In all the years the three of us had filmed together, not once had we caught anything, on tape or otherwise. In fact, many times we’d had to fake spooky occurrences in order to make sure our videos got any views at all. This is your own fault, man, I silently chided myself, you’re the one who couldn’t stand up to them and say no. You really, seriously need to grown a spine and learn how to say no. The mental self lecture was furthering my rotten mood, and I began to feel a wave of anger at my two friends, as well as myself boil up.
“Hell with this” I finally muttered, then turned and began walking up the aisle. “Troy, where the hell are you going?” I heard Natasha call out behind me. I stopped, not looking over my shoulder, but quietly aiming my voice behind me and allowing a hint of irritation to seep into it. “I’m gonna go check out the second floor balcony, okay? I don’t exactly like just standing here” For a moment, there was silence, and then her voice came, soft and almost apologetic. “Okay, go ahead” Before she could say anything more, I strode away, walking to the open doorway which led out of the theater and into the concession area. I hooded my flashlight beam with one hand to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally shine out of the glass entrance doors into the street and looked around. The lobby and concession stand took up most of the front area, the darkened shape of it stretching along the far wall.
Taking a few steps ahead, I turned and looked up at the wall above me. Large, blue letters stretched out from one side of it to the other. Through these doors pass the most wonderful people. I snorted softly. “Yeah, unfortunately, not tonight” I shook my head, then looked around. And nearly jumped out of my skin. Something also seemed to jump back. I felt my heartbeat begin to race in my chest and my breath quickened. “Shit…” I let out weakly, then slowly moved forward. After a few steps, I suddenly realized what I’d seen and let out a soft laugh of relief.
“Your own damn reflection, you fucking pussy” Shaking my head, I turned away from the glass wall and headed for the stairs to the second floor. At the base of them, I stopped and shone my flashlight up. “Ooh, boy” I said quietly. Sitting next to the stairway like a sentry, was a huge, golden statue of a pharaoh. It towered over me, and I estimated that, were it be standing straight up, it’d easily be between eight and ten feet tall. It stared straight ahead at the wall ahead of it, and I couldn’t help but let out a small shiver as I stared at it. It just seemed so damn eerie in the dark, and I quickly moved past it, heading up the stairs and stepping out onto the second story balcony.
I shone my light around. Red seats again surrounded me, though this time far fewer. Ahead of me, I could see the balcony’s edge and the hulking shape of the main stage beyond. I could also see the beams of my friends’ flashlights playing over it, and hear both of their voices speaking softly. Deciding while I was up here to at least check out the projection booth, I strode over to the door and tried to turn the handle. It was locked. Feeling my irritation bubble over into exasperation, I jiggled the handle in some stupid attempt to open it. But the door stayed shut. I turned away and rubbed my eyes, again hearing the voices of my friends softly filtering up to me from down below.
“Hey, if there really are any ghosts, or spooks, or specters, or whatever in here? If you’re actually real, could you appear to us, please?” I whispered to no one, “That way my friends can get what they want and I can go home” I received only silence in reply. I hadn’t really expected anything, anyways. You know what? Screw this, I’m going back down there and telling them I’m going home, with or without them. This is beyond stupid, I just broke the law for what? For nothing! For something dumb as hell. And with that, I turned to walk away. But I hadn’t even taken a single step when something crashed into me like a wave. The breath was driven from my lungs as I felt a massive chill shoot through me, as though I’d been doused with ice water. “What the fuck?!” I hissed through gritted teeth, then froze, my eyes going wide. The feeling of being watched had returned with a vengeance, and it had seemingly been ramped up in its intensity. I shot a look around, but saw nobody.
Still, the feeling remained, and with each passing second, it almost seemed to grow stronger. Chill after chill rolled up my spine, and even though I didn’t really believe, something deep inside me told me that it was time to get out. Okay, time to leave, I said in my head, and headed quickly for the stairs. As I reached the head, I turned to look back one final time. That’s when I saw something. It disappeared when I aimed my flashlight at it, but I swear a second earlier it had been the outline of a person, standing in the shadows and watching me. The split second sight catapulted me into motion, and I hurried down the steps, shining my light every which way but loose. Believer or not, I knew something wanted us out. I’d planned on jumping off the second to last stair and running for the main theatre floor. But as I reached the bottom, I froze.
For a moment, I couldn’t place why. And then, the realization fell over me like a tsunami. I let out an involuntary gasp, and fear like I’d never felt before surged through me. I didn’t want to turn around and look. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen it. I desperately wanted to. But, like a dumbass character in a horror movie, I couldn’t help it. I needed to look. I slowly turned, aiming my flashlight back up. And I couldn’t help but let out a strangled scream, falling backwards over my own feet as I began to backpedal rapidly.
The statue of the pharaoh still sat where it had. It still towered over me, looking as imposing and eerie as ever. But it’s carved and painted eyes were no longer staring straight ahead at the wall. Instead, they had somehow moved. And when I’d turned, I’d come to find they were staring directly at me.
I scrambled to my feet, snatching the flashlight from the floor where I’d dropped it and aiming it at the statue again. It stared straight out at nothing again. But I knew what I’d seen. It hadn’t been a trick of my mind, or the light. The freaking thing’s eyes had moved to watch me as I passed down by it. I began to stammer out as I backed away from it. “Okay, that’s it, no no no no, we’re done here, fuck this shit, I’m officially a believer, we’re leaving, right now” I kept backing towards the doorway to the theatre, never taking my eyes off the statue. I was terrified I’d seen it suddenly stand up and turn to lumber after me like Boris Karloff or something.
The blaring sound of the theatre’s organ slashed through the silence, causing me to let out another strangled scream and jump almost a foot off the ground. I whipped around, thinking I would see my moronic friends tinkering with the instrument. Instead, I froze again. The theatre was no longer dark. Both of my friends had seemingly vanished from the room, as I could no longer see them. The movie screen had somehow been pulled down, and above me, I heard the whir of the movie projector playing. An old, black and white movie, one which had no sound, played on the screen, occasionally changing to show dialogue being displayed in white letters.
It was also no longer empty.
The entire theatre was packed. I saw people sitting at almost every single seat in the huge room. I could only see the backs of their heads as they watched the movie playing. At the edge of the stage, what looked like a man now sat at the organ, playing it in time with the film. A slapstick moment came across the screen, and the audience began laughing. In any other situation, it would’ve been a comforting sound. But at that moment, it was the most spine chilling sound I’d ever heard. Especially as another wave of realization crashed into me. From the little I could see, everyone in the theatre looked to be dressed in long passed fashions.
That’s when the voice, low and quiet, came from behind me. “Good evening, sir” it said. It sounded like a man’s voice, one rather low and deep pitched, but something about it paralyzed me on the spot. The voice continued, putting on an air of pleasant politeness. “We’re so glad you could make it, it’s been so long since we’ve had new patrons arrive at a showing. If I could just see your ticket, please?”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then, I managed to squeak out two words. “Uh, ticket?” The tone of the voice seemed to change somewhat. “Yes, your ticket. That’s the only way you could’ve gotten in. Please, let me verify it and show you to your seat” Ohhh, shit. Whoever, or whatever the voice belonged to, thought I had shown up like a regular moviegoer. The voice’s tone became less polite. “You do have a ticket, right, sir?” I was beyond terrified to answer, but I was more terrified to remain silent. For a moment, I considered lying. But I feared what might happen if I did. So I told the truth.
“I….uh, I, uh….I don’t have a ticket, sir” I stammered out, my voice barely above a whisper. Instantly, all sound stopped in the room like someone had flipped a switch. “You…don’t have a ticket?” the voice said, all pretense of manners vanishing from it, “Then how did you get in here for the late night showing?” Oh, god. I forced myself to speak, still unable to say anything except the truth. “My…my friends and I….broke in…through the back door…to…ghost hunt…” There was silence for a few moments, and then a heavy hand dropped onto my shoulder. My head swiveled to look at it. Oh, fuck me sideways. It wasn’t a regular hand. It was a fucking claw. One with black skin, tipped with what looked like razor sharp nails. It sat there for a moment, then tightened; almost painfully so, making me let out a small whimper of pain.
That’s when I looked up. Everyone in the theatre had turned to look at me. My initial thought had been correct; they all wore clothing from almost a century ago, and not the stuff cosplayers wear, either. They also had very angry expressions on their faces, as if they’d just noticed the intruder among their midst. The voice finally came again, almost directly behind me. Its tone lowered, almost sounding guttural and animal, making my legs almost melt into jelly from the fear. “Then, might I make a suggestion to you and your trespassing little friends?” My breath came in rapid, ragged gasps, and I barely managed to force out the one word. “Yes?”
“LEAVE”
At the single word reply, which now more closely resembled a growl than a word, I did something I will forever wish I hadn’t. I finally turned and looked up at who was addressing me. The only way I can describe what happened is, my mind shattered. The next thing I remember, I was crashing into the back doors of the theatre into the night.
And I was screaming.
That was a month or so ago. When I’d stumbled back into the alley, I’d turned and, in what I can only call blind fear and panic, bolted for my truck. I hadn’t even heard my friends chasing after me. Not until Vinny caught up to me as I scrambled with my keys, grabbing me from behind and turning me to face him. He said the look I’d had on my face scared him and Natasha more than anything ever had before. I’d been pale as a sheet, my eyes wider than they ever thought a human’s could be. I'd been babbling softly. I’d been saying the words “They want us to leave” over and over. They didn’t ask me what had happened. They just pushed me into the backseat of my truck and drove away from there. It was clear, as I found out later on, that both of them hadn’t seen anything. As far as they were concerned before seeing me dash to the rear doors, it was just an empty theatre. Neither one of them ever asked me what I saw that night. And for that, I’m thankful. Because I could never utter from my lips what I did see.
But I’ve had nightmares since then. Horrible ones. Ones that’ve been so bad, I had to let out what happened to me, deciding to just post it here, regardless of whether people believe me or not.
Nightmares about being back in that theatre after hours. About seeing that pharaoh statue’s eyes flick in its painted sockets to look at me. About seeing all those people, people long since dead, sitting and watching the films they did when they were alive. About seeing that hand fall on my shoulder, hearing that voice, telling me not to come back until I have a ticket.
And about turning to see who the hand and voice belonged to.
The Egyptian Theatre will be celebrating its centennial this year. People are planning to show up in 1920s cars, dressed in period clothing. They’re even going to show an old, silent film as part of the festivities. But I won’t be attending it. I won’t ever go anywhere near it again. The one time I tried, a week or so ago, I started trembling with fear. And the mental image played over and over in my head.
The image of turning to see that horrible canine head attached to the human-like body, red, glowing eyes glaring down at me as it’s sharp teeth glinted in the light.
I pray to god I never will end up with a ticket to one of its late night showings.
But I can't help but fear that, like those packed into the theatre, sooner or later, we all will.

June 4 International gold market comprehensive research and judgment reference
Significant events: On May 31 EDT, the House of Representatives passed a bill on the federal government debt ceiling and budget, and the Senate passed it the next day, under which government spending would be subject to upper limits until about the end of 2024, but a debt default could be avoided. On Friday, the Labor Department reported that non-farm payrolls rose by 339,000 in May, the 29th consecutive monthly gain, after adjusting for seasonal factors. The unemployment rate was 3.7% in May, compared with 3.50% expected and 3.40% previously. The probability of maintaining interest rates at the current level by July is 32.1%, the cumulative probability of a 25 basis point hike is 53.5%, and the cumulative probability of a 50 basis point hike is 14.4%.
Trend analysis: last week the gold market volatility is intense, gold prices in general showed first up after the plunge of the inverted V-shaped reversal trend. Gold prices in the week lasted four trading days after a strong rebound in the oscillation, on Friday retracted most of the week's gains, the weekly k-line closed a long upper shadow of the positive cross, showing a serious divergence between long and short. In particular, Friday's selloff constituted a serious blow to short-term long confidence. Debt ceiling negotiations successfully landed, the U.S. debt ceiling crisis lifted, and at the same time the non-farm clerk constituted a big negative, the market turned to focus on the pace of the Federal Reserve rate hikes in June up, making the market again into pressure. At present, the market is still in the downtrend since May. Short-term long counterattack declared failure, short or again down to challenge the previous wave low near $ 1940, to test whether the buying can still resist.
Timing analysis. 4 hours KD curve on Friday directly from 80 scale straight to below 20 scale, close to 0 degrees, indicating that the short sentiment reached the freezing point. There may be a reversal signal for an oversold rebound today.

The day seemed like it would be ordinary until the aeronautical community’s most sought after document showed up on my doorstep.
It came wrapped in brown kraft paper tied off with twine, and the exterior packaging had no return address nor any indication of a postage stamp. It was as though it had been simply bundled up and dropped into my wall-mounted mailbox by a random passerby.
No part of me was willing to surrender the strange parcel without opening it first. Regardless of who its contents truly belonged to, my eyes would be the first to see it. I removed the twine and then dug a thumb under a fold in the packaging paper before clawing it away to expose a brown tan notebook circa 1900. It was full grain buffalo leather with a crisscross of cord for the spine and a thick hand cut string keeping it sealed shut.
When I undid the string, the pages that had been gripped tight by the leather fanned out gently then returned to their original position, my eyes landing on the front page. It was without a printer’s mark and read in big handwritten type: “THE DIARY AND RECORD OF HENRY H. HELGELAND.”
I knew in that instant the package was in the hands of who it was rightfully sent out for. Not just because I’d recently lost my job as an associate at our city’s art museum but because of a separate, much deeper connection to the diary’s author.
Perhaps it’s in my best interests to turn it over to the National Archives, or the US Arctic Research Commission, or maybe even the U.S. Capitol Visitor Center, but at the risk of seeing it blue-penciled to death, I’ve elected to instead share it here and now.
The world needs to know what happened.
---
Henry H. Helgeland — my great grandfather — was a severe looking man with a walrus mustache and a bone to pick with anyone who ever doubted him. He was born in Oakland, California in 1871 and was, by all available accounts relayed to me, well-behaved and well-liked. His father worked a lucrative job in the shipping industry, transporting timber between San Francisco and the Central Valley. Two years into Henry’s life, his mother would contract a fatal case of diphtheria and die shortly thereafter; when he was old enough to understand what had happened, Henry “yearn[ed] fervently for a reunion to mend [his] great anguish and sorrow.”
Near the turn of the 20th century, Henry attended Stanford University’s Department of Mechanical Engineering, where he learned everything from thermodynamics to machine design. But it was a lecture about polar transportation that would ultimately kindle his interest in a separate enterprise: arctic exploration. Indeed, the race to the North Pole was well underway, with naval officers, geologists, and aeronauts around the globe vying for the chance to make history. My great grandfather, like many of his peers, propounded the theory that he, and he alone, would be the first to reach the Great White North.
In 1895, Henry graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in mechanical engineering and sought to expand the member list of the so called Ascension Society, a student organization he’d assembled to aid engineering graduates with materials science. Many of its constituents had engaged in research projects and experimental setups to hone their craft of mechanical systems, but in time, however, the venture would instead prove a hotspot for investors and philanthropists. Donations averaging up to $5,000 helped fund and promote the fantastic ambitions of my great grandfather. So long as the Ascension Society was gracing him with their support, he’d be the first to reach the North Pole.
In early 1898, armed with enough capital, Henry used the proceeds to purchase the materials required for the balloon.
---
A notable circus at the forefront of traveling attractions in the early twentieth century was The Fielding Troupe. With its impressive lineup of talent — from fire eaters and aerialists to equestrians and strongmen — the ensemble drew crowds from nearly every town in western America during its historic run. Its wide reach would ultimately reel in many notable faces, including my great grandfather.
Prior to a performance in Oakland, the Fielding Troupe led a procession through the town around Stanford University, announcing their arrival with a parade of wagons, floats, and animals. The strategy, as it were, was to drum up as much publicity and fanfare as possible. Evidently it worked, as a healthy fraction of the faculty and student body at Stanford made the trip over to Oakland in order to see the troupe in action.
Surrounding their arena with two hundred feet of heavy duty tent canvas, the troupe put on a show for the ages the night Henry was in attendance, with extravagant acrobatics, trained animal performances, and a special appearance from Curtis the Clown. Following a skillful display of juggling and good natured audience ribbing, Curtis’s master stroke was an intricate stunt involving balloons and wire flying. Firstly, he would inflate several multi-colored balloons and tie them off with string, securing them firmly in his grip. They served as a flashy distraction from the piece of flexible metal snaking out from the harness he had concealed under his equally flashy costume. Then, with a whisper of strength, a couple stagehands hoisted the balloon-carrying clown thirty feet into the air to make it appear as though he was levitating by virtue of the balloons alone. A separate performer — a marksman — showed off his sharpshooting skills with a Winchester model rifle and gunned down the balloons, exploding each one as the stagehands loosened their hold on Curtis’s harness until he was eased to the ground.
Henry watched the routine with eager delight. Seeing Curtis the Clown float above a hundred or so onlookers helped stir within him a plan. The ceiling of the Big Top Tent where Curtis had concluded his ascent represented more than the centerpiece of a traveling circus.
“Ascendancy,” Henry muttered to his wife Ruth. “This is how we get to the top of the world.”
---
The spherical vessel measured sixty-five feet in diameter, with a capacity of over 200,000 cubic feet. Its construction was overseen by Henry and a couple french engineers who installed in its gondola three berths and ample ballast to keep it stable. The gondola, a carefully constructed assemblage of wicker and chestnut wood, was built as such to bar any interference to the magnetic instruments of the explorers. Keeping it shielded against severe weather conditions was a varnished silk calotte and a vaselined net composed of over four-hundred hemp cords. A bamboo pole was attached bellow the carrying ring to attach the side sails and, perhaps most notably, the balloon was fitted with hemp and cocoa nut fiber guide ropes to help steer and maintain a consistent altitude.
After two years of exhaustive construction, work on the balloon was completed in 1900. Henry named it Ascension, after the society that funded its creation.
---
What follows are several selected passages lifted directly from Henry’s memorandum, transcribed by me. The first entry reads:
“At nine o'clock on the forenoon, May 5, 1900, under the auspices of the Ascension Society, we embarked from the 71st parallel on our quest of the Pole. Our great journey sets off from Point Barrow, Alaska following a grueling adventure aboard the steamer Sursum. I, Henry Helgeland, travel forth, accompanied by Charles Ringvold, esteemed navigator, and Edward Meyer, long celebrated physician, into the arctic wilderness. Together, our efforts will generate a most formidable team and an unwavering spirit. We will ascend.”
Indeed, the SS Sursum disembarked from a port in San Francisco in mid May of that year; it offered easy access to the Pacific Ocean and sailed through the Bering Strait, covering over 3,000 nautical miles before reaching Point Barrow on July 2.
When the balloon took off, carried by a fierce north east wind, it was to a thunderous applause from those that had come to bear witness to the bold endeavor. Among them were crew members of the SS Sursum, high ranking associates of the Ascension Society, and carpenters tasked with helping the balloon reach its initial phase of liftoff.
As it elevated to 300 hundred feet and passed around an onlooking whaler, Henry was reported to have shouted: “To the top of the world, hurrah!”
---
36 hours would elapse before a second entry was made.
“July 4, 1900, Lat. 77° 48' N, Long. 143° 4' W. We are soaring at a height of 600 feet above the Earth's surface, traveling at a speed of approximately seven kilometers per hour. Our morale remains similarly aloft. Charles relayed to me that, God willing, we anticipate reaching the pole in roughly 800 miles. Beyond the drag ropes lending their ballast to our journey, optimism is our guiding force. We will ascend.”
Turbulent air currents had a different plan in mind, however.
“July 5, 1900, Lat. 80° 8' N, Long. 138° 37' W. Alas! Our aerial journey came to an abrupt halt yestereve on the 80th parallel. We voyaged as many as 500 miles before a forceful downdraft spun our vehicle on its vertical axle and compelled it into a sharp descent; we had lost what we estimate to be just over 100 cubic feet of gas.
“Edward suffered severe injuries during the initial impact and claims his vertebrae have been shattered, leaving him immobile. We’re at the mercy of the floe on which we now rest, at the mercy of the Polar Sea. Should we face the specter of death, we shall meet it with unwavering honor. We will ascend.”
---
“July 6, 1900. We find ourselves solitary in the barren expanse, accompanied only by bergs, ice-fields, and majestic glaciers. Our rations encompass a container’s worth of hardtack, enough salted beef for approximately one week, canned stew, dried apricots, some chocolate bars, and seven bottles of ale.
“Edward’s outlook remains grim; he suspects he’ll never walk again. In witness of his current state, I’m beginning to share in such apprehensions. Edward, whom we have reposed on on of our sledges, fears that the opportunity to make known the great love he holds for his mistress Rebecca is one he’ll never be granted. ‘You shall be reunited at once,’ I assured him. ‘Our journey to triumph will not be thwarted by minor inconveniences.’
“We’ve plotted the course to our next destination: that being Herschel Island, located off the coast of Canada in the Beaufort Sea. Charles — who shares in Edward’s dismay — estimates a three month footslog spanning just under one thousand miles is in store for us, perhaps more given Edward’s ailment. I am determined to see this mission to its completion, yet survival remains a paramount desire. Who’s to recount our extraordinary journey should we fail?
“While establishing our encampment and scouting the local flora of the area for additional sources of sustenance, I happened upon a plant of an unknown species. Half a meter tall, bulbous tubers, and thin roots terminating in clusters of white flowers; intuition suggests this is a water hemlock, which precludes it from edibility. Nevertheless, I shall regard this finding as one of great fortune. A portent of divine value. We will ascend.”
---
Two days later, gold prospectors off the Alaskan coast at Nome beach were in the process of emptying their sluice boxes when from the sky flew a carrier pigeon directly to their mining site. It bore a label with the inscription “Helgeland” and contained the following dispatch:
“July 7, 1900. First dog watch. Three southerly traveling carrier-pigeons were sent off at approximately 7 h. 40 p.m. Pacific Standard Time, the following among them. This is Rear Admiral Charles Ringvold of the United States Navy and the Helgeland Balloon Expedition of 1900. Our hopes of reaching the pole have been reduced to naught. Assistance urgently needed. Our destinies have hitherto been unknown, and now my fears have been actualized. GO IN TERROR OF HENRY HELGELAND. He is not who he proclaims to be. I volunteered for a man of honorable stature and venturesome drive. The man before me betrays neither.”
The remainder of the message was a hasty scrawl, decrypted only by the best in linguistics and modern codebreaking.
“UNASSISTED WE WILL PERISH HELPED WE WILL PERSEVERE PLEASE GOD HELP US HENRY WILL KILL US ALL DO NOT BELIEVE WHAT HE PROCLAIMS.”
The communication was immediately passed off to the Smithsonian Institution, where word fell within the earshot of Ascension Society proponents and additional members of the US Navy. A follow-up expedition — a rescue team led by Captain S. P. Matthews — was put together at once with the authorization of the Secretary of War.
Months later, after a congressional bill introduced to secure grant funding for arctic exploration — and thereby a rescue mission for Helgeland’s lost expedition — was successfully passed, the USS Greenwich departed from the San Francisco Naval Shipyard with a crew of thirty boatswains, medics, and deck officers among others.
What they would ultimately uncover puzzled them all.
---
“July 7, 1900. The team has fractured. We are without our provisions and without the morale that has served us thusly.
“Charles and I set upon the pursuit and capture of a walrus, a most strenuous task in the Arctic Circle. Furnished with a Winchester model .40-82, the sport skews in our favor but we are in no short supply of peril. These are one ton beasts with the strength of a hundred strongmen as they stave the ice, and yet it is not them I should have feared.
“’I can’t allow you to proceed further.’ I heard the click clack racket of the Winchester as Charles chambered a round and raised the rifle, training its twenty inch barrel toward my back after I had volunteered — quite ignorantly — to take the vanguard.
“’Charles?’ I managed between clattering teeth.
“’You’re a man of bold stature. An honorable man at that. But not honorable enough to die for. And that’s it, Henry. I will not die for you.’
“’You speak out of distress, not rationality.’
“’I’m as rational as one permits when I say we won’t all make it to Canada. You can’t expect us to sledge Edward for the next month and retain our strength. Our sanities.” I could hear him gulp, ‘our lives.’
“’You’re not who you say you are.’ I realized in that moment. ‘Not even an ensign would renounce his own crew. Who are you really, Charles?’
“His credentials were a farce; a clever scheme to scrape through the expedition’s vetting process. He was no navy-man nor expert nor navigator and if you piled his life’s accomplishments on top of one another, they’d be equal to that of a cretin.
“’Doesn’t matter any more, Henry.’
“’Then why haven’t you shot me?’
“I sensed beyond his terror a hint of reluctance and felt within him the trepidation of an amateur. The man had never wielded a firearm in his life and wouldn’t start hence.
“’In Your infinite mercy, hear my prayer. In Your boundless grace, grant me Your forgiveness,’ he muttered below his breath. I could’ve believed he’d have squeezed the trigger if not for the unexpected convulsion that suddenly brought him to his knees. Befallen by the strange attack, Charles unhanded the Winchester and collapsed to the ice in the midst of a crippling seizure. And in a matter of moments, he had succumbed to death.
“With some activated charcoal or perhaps an emetic, he could have eluded such a painful demise. I stepped over to look upon his body, his pupils dilated to the size of dimes. Reviewing the immediate symptoms, intuition tells me he’s become the latest victim of hemlock poisoning, the kind of amateur mistake I’d expect from someone such as Charles. Ideal timing, if I may speak candidly.
“Hope remains alive. I will ascend.”
---
Investigators with the crew of S. P. Matthews found everything except answers.
It took them all of three months to zero in on the campsite left behind by Helgeland’s expedition. Any prospect of finding the balloon itself was dropped by the wayside to preserve manpower and time.
The camp was discovered on the 79th parallel, not in any particular state of disarray but with enough evidence to suggest conflict had broken out between the members. Edward was discovered in a tent with the rest of the rations and a bullet hole stamped in the side of his head. There was no telling how long he’d been dead for.
Forty-five meters away from the camp, buried under a stalagmitic gathering of ice and snow, was the body of Charles Ringvold. A followup inquiry would prove my great grandfather’s claims that he was a fraud, but like Charles himself, the truth is buried deep under the surface. Edward and Charles are commemorated for their failed — albeit honorable — efforts in the face of great opposition.
The body of my great grandfather, however, was never found. Theories thus abound in the saga of Henry H. Helgeland and we are no more the wiser now than we were a century ago. He is remembered for murdering his men in cold blood, deserting them, and then yielding to the elements somewhere in the frozen hell of the arctic. The carrier-pigeon message sent by Charles corroborated the apparent facts.
But I know the truth. Because only I have the answers.
“July 8, 1900. All that remains is me, for everyone else has vanished. Edward and I regaled each other with stories of our mistresses as night fell upon our place in the arctic wasteland. Rebecca, Edward’s beloved, works as an expert seamstress in San Francisco and will no doubt be devastated when news of his fate reaches her. But the great memories they shared together, I assured him, will serve her well in the years to come.
“‘You shall be reunited at once,’ I whispered to him once more before executing the dying man with the Winchester. It is my turn to face whatever awaits me on the ice.
“My great anguish and sorrow have been mended.
“Ruth is calling to me now. Our son promptly requires our presence.
“I shall go to them."
The fruitless search for my great grandfather peaked at last with the unearthing of a path of footprints snaking away from the tent where Edward’s body lay. Investigators followed them for approximately ten meters before they abruptly ceased. Captain Matthews is quoted as saying: “it was as though the walker had simply floated away.”
And indeed, it was our family that won in the end, for my great grandfather received exactly what he wanted. The final, undated entry of his diary is comprised of but three simple words:
“I have ascended.”

I recently came across a post about an expat who participated in a night wedding. After reading the accounts I began to do research on my own. Not because I believe in any of that stuff. I'm a magician after all. Illusion is my bread and butter. And I can detect trickery better than most. Which in my line of work has its benefits. But old traditions are the best places to pick up new techniques. Old ways that are new to others that delight and even scare people. Because, if I can make them afraid. Make them look away. For even a second. I can pull off some astounding magic.
My gig at the cruise line was coming to an end as we neared the port of Shanghai. And for my last several shows, where I'd normally start to include my greatest tricks in order to leave a lasting impression. I developed a new act that I called "The Sneaky Bride", it involved a mannequin in a wedding dress, a beautiful train, veil, flowers on the ground - the whole nine yards some would say. The trick was that the bride would sneak bites as my assistants who are dressed as servers pass by with their trays.
I begin the trick by placing a mannequin center stage for all to see so that they know it's a dummy. I show them there are no holes, and the entire thing is solid. Then we dress it up and set the stage for a wedding. And with a bit of lighting, another assistant switches places with the mannequin and is being fed under the veil. We later changed it to more slight of hand techniques as the assistant complained she wasn't able to chew fast enough as the items of course have to get larger and larger for comedic effect as the guests were wowed by the disappearing act as the fake wedding progressed.
At the end we even invited the unmarried men up to the stage and then threw out a fake bouquet, and watched them clamber over each other in good fun to catch it. The act was an instant hit and had the crowd roaring every night. Which was why I decided to take a firsthand look at the original, and see if there were any other staging techniques I could learn from this old tradition.
With some help from Bing and its ChatGPT features I was able to get a relatively good idea of where it was practiced. So I booked the next flight out to begin my quest for a real night wedding.
Upon arrival at my hotel, I asked the concierge for information about the local practice.
"Yes. I know of this one. We practice it often for children who were taken too early."
"But they are all scams?"
The concierge smiled, "In most cases the pouches mean no harm, and they're simply for families who want to provide peace for themselves and to complete a lasting tradition. Sometimes the dowries are quite lucrative as well, and it is the families who are scammed by those who go and collect these ghost wives as concubines. We call it a blue procession for the trail of ghosts the husband leaves behind wherever he goes." He leans in, "But between you and me? They're mostly all scams."
I laughed, and I can't stress this next part enough, tip your concierge! Which I did. "Thank you, and also. Do you know where I could get a good start on finding more information about these ghost dowries? Or even find one of these pouches myself?"
"The temple down this first street to the left, about half a kilometer, would be a good place to start. But finding a pouch is a bit more difficult as they pop up sporadically. However, if traditions are to be believed it is the pouch who chooses the spouse."
I thanked him again and began to make my way through the early morning rush toward the temple. The streets were lined with open markets full of food from local farmers, which were common in the morning in this part of the world. They would disappear before the afternoon and then return again to sell wares at night when it was cooler. It made the city feel as if it were breathing as the locals rose and ebbed outside with day and night.
On my way, I searched the ground and around alleys for loose pouches. But I had no such luck by the time I arrived at the temple. Large red pillars that were thicker than any tree I've personally had the pleasure of meeting held up the high ceiling. Inside, the locals were already starting to disperse as the work hours were amongst us. Which left me nearly alone in this temple at about 8:00 in the morning.
A monk or priest was kneeling on a mat in front of a wooden shrine, throwing pieces of wood in the shape of dumplings on the floor. I waited patiently for him to finish. Taking in the sights and the delicate features of the temple. When he rose I approached him.
"You don't speak English by any chance do you?"
He smiled.
"What about the middle tongue?" I asked in Mandarin.
"Oh," he seemed surprised. "Yes. How may I be of assistance?"
"What were you doing just now?"
He held out his hand and showed me two red wooden pieces that were, with closer inspection, in the shape of moons. "Jiaobei," he told me. "We use these to seek divine guidance."
"How does it work?"
The monk shows me the two sides, one was smooth and flat, the other side rounded. "You ask a question and then throw it on the ground. One block flat and one block round, means yes. Both blocks showing round means no. Or depending on the question. Anger from the Gods. Or crying in sadness as it is commonly known. And finally, both blocks showing flat means laughter. Which could mean a number of things." He hands them to me, "You throw it three times to get a better answer."
"I'm guessing if it's the same all three times, the answer is definitive?"
The monk nodded.
"Will I..."
"Ah ah ah, in silence."
I didn't want my first question to be too convoluted or difficult. So I kept it simple and asked if I was a good magician. Then I threw the Jiaobei on the floor. It clattered and rolled on its rounded back, showing two flat sides.
The monk smiled.
"That usually happens the first time anyone tries Jiaobei. But in my experience, it generally means you asked a pure question."
"What happens if I didn't ask a pure question and it came back as angry?"
"The gods will remember it. They will remember you."
"No bad first impression then huh," I whispered under my breath. "Okay. Do I need to throw it two more times or can I ask a different question?"
"You may ask a different question or throw it twice more."
"What is my name?" I threw it on the floor. And to my surprise, as the ends are pointed and difficult to balance, one of the damn things stood tall and erect.
The monk bowed to the pieces. "Truly you have been picked by the gods to be answered. Lijiao or a standing answer like this is uncommonly rare. The gods generally choose to laugh at a nonsensical question. And often get angry if you throw it two more times. And rarely do they ever answer ones asked aloud."
I bent forward, skeptical, though a temple this was, at how the thing worked. In my head I could only think that the switchboard guy was quick on his feet. But looking around I couldn't find any cameras. Though in this day an age, they're made smaller than a fly. So it was difficult to tell. I picked up the pieces, feeling for any sense of magnetism, but there were none.
I asked one last question before I left that day. I asked their gods, would I find the real deal? And I threw it on the ground three times. All three times it came up yes. But for two months I scoured the city, and the country side. And I did chance upon several pouches. Some were obviously scams as I watched each bag carefully before approaching. Especially noticeable are the ones in the city which would be laying on the sidewalk, filled with bills for people passing by. But I observed that if a local went to go pick it up, two or three men from around the corner would come and threaten him to put it back. But if a foreigner picked it up, an old man or woman would come and start calling them son before leading them away.
There were of course others that were genuinely following tradition. I chanced upon several of them and was married several times. But each one was playful almost. And performed by their parents in the day. Leaving me with several small bags of pocket change, a good dinner, as I went on my way.
During one of these fake night weddings I even saw a child playfully munching on a corn cob in the corner under one of the tables as I fed the effigy they constructed of my fake bride. Which was when I think I decided to call it quits. Believing that I'd never find the real deal. Although I did learn a lot as tradition can be translated by me into performance. Which helped me ground 'The Sneaky Bride' act further. All in all, this was time well spent.
My visa was coming to an end and I had mostly been enjoying the sights, the city, and their way of life. When on one the last day, as I was leaving from a faraway eatery that the concierge had recommended, that I saw a red pouch made of silk with a thick yarn around its throat, stuffed full of money. I looked around and didn't see a single person there, nothing except flat farmland and water gullies for miles.
Odd, I thought to myself, as it looked truly abandoned.
For a second I played with the idea of picking it up. Wondering if somehow a relative of the deceased would pop up magically next to me and I could change the world of magic by studying their technique. But I didn't want to spend my few hours chasing ghosts. I wanted to enjoy my time. So I kept walking.
I got back to the city and spent the remainder of my day eating and drinking, meeting new friends at the bar, newfound lads who I invited a hundred times to visit me in Melbourne one day. Who all agreed that if fate ever brought us back together we would drink until the sun rose. So yeah, I was fairly drunk when I got back to my hotel room, and didn't believe what I saw when I opened the door. It was a red pouch sitting on my coffee table.
"Someone's trying to play a trick on me," I mused. "They must have heard me talking at the bar." I circled the table studying the pouch. Any magician worth his smoke, likes a good bag. So there was no doubt to me that this was the same one I saw earlier. Which made me start putting two and two together. "It must be the concierge. He's the one who sent me out that far." I laughed and picked up the bag, even though I knew the rules. I opened it and thumbed through the bills. "It's much more than what I tipped him. Much more." Curious, I wondered what he would have done if I didn't return this to him. It must have been quite a few months worth of wages. I threw the bag up in the air and caught it as if I were juggling before I tossed it on my nightstand. "I'm going to let him sweat for a little bit and pretend I didn't find it tomorrow as I check out," I mused as I went to go take a shower.
I opened the door and felt the words stick to the roof of my mouth as the bag appeared on the counter next to the sink. I shot a glance back to the nightstand and indeed the bag I had just thrown on there was missing.
"This is a good fucking trick. That, or I'm drunker than I thought." I started questioning did I somehow fall asleep beforehand? Or walked into the bathroom and put it there as I mused my little scheme of making the concierge nervous at the lost pouch? Had I somehow in my drunken state done something without realizing it? No. That couldn't be it. I touched my chest to check my heart rate and put my fingers on my face. A bit flushed, but heart rate adequate. I was fine for the most part. Just drunk.
I looked at the pouch on the counter, and peered gingerly into the bathroom as if I've never stepped foot in one, before deciding to grab the bag and close the door. "Okay," I said loudly. "Whoever's doing this. Come on out." Of course no one appeared, not that I expected them to because the credo I lived by is that a good magician never reveals his trick.
"Okay, let's see how good you guys really are," I mused. Going over to my closet and placed the pouch on the shelf. Closing the door. Then I went back to the bathroom and opened the door. It was empty. I checked the nightstand drawer, mpty. I looked all over, and it was still mty. I breathed a sigh and went over to the closet door, "I guess you're just a bag after all." Except when I looked inside. MT. I couldn't find the bag behind any other nook or cranny. I know, I checked them all. And they were all .
I stumbled backwards and looked around, glancing at the ceiling corners in case someone had crawled up there. And even looked under the bed. But there was no one else here. I felt my chest tighten as I tried to make sense of what was happening. "Its got to be the walls I reasoned." And so for the next half hour I scoured the entire room with my hands, pushing, pressing, pulling anywhere and everywhere I could. Using all my years of experience to figure out what was going on. But there was nothing.
I couldn't stay in that room another minute so I rushed outside and nearly stepped on it! The bag! It was right at the foot of my doorstep.
My mind tried to wrap around how that was possible, "It's got to be a dupe. They've got more than one bag. I've been had, that has to be it. And the furniture inside, they have secret compartments. God, they really put a lot of effort into this," I laughed. "I have to know how this trick is done." So I opened the pouch and pulled out the note inside.
The notes generally contained their name, their current would-be age (she was 20 this year, older than most), what time they were born (8:07), a picture if they had one (she did), and how old they when they died (5). If the deceased were a bit older, perhaps a tidbit from their family is included about their personality. But most importantly, it always contained their address.
I looked at my watch, it was late and my flight was in the morning but perhaps I could still make it. So I gathered the rest of my things, my luggage, the mannequin for my act, and other bag of tricks in case I needed to go to the airport right after. "Come on," I yelled out loud to my pranksters. "Let's go see what other tricks you have up your sleeve."
I went down to the lobby and had the front desk call me a cab. I looked around for the concierge but he was nowhere to be found. So I left a note for him. And then left.
The cab drove until the city faded away. We were practically on the other side of the island by the time its tires skipped to a stop. I got out and knocked on the giant half circle doors of the address. I noticed that we were deep in the countryside. There were hardly any lights dotting the night.
I knocked several more times before I heard shuffling behind the door. And then it opened. An old man stood in front of me in his drawers.
"What do you want," he asked angrily. "Do you know what time it is?"
"I'm sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour. But," I pulled out the pouch. And his eyes widened up.
"Meju-eh. You're back." He looked at me up and down. "What are you supposed to be," he asked but then shook his head. "No, no. Come in. Come in, please."
"I don't have much time," I told him. "I have to leave in the morning."
"Sit, sit." He ushered me to a chair in the courtyard.
I placed the bag on the table next to it, "I have a flight in the morning, so if we're going to do this. We have to do it now."
Instead of fighting me, he nodded, "Yes. I agree. I don't have much time either. And Meju-eh is older than most ghost brides. The bull demon might not let her through his gets if she gets any older. And then she'll be a husbandless spinster for eternity." He ushered around, "We don't have many living relatives either. So it shouldn't be too troublesome to hurry this along." He called into the house and a young woman came out, "This is my granddaughter. Ah-ahn. Meju-eh's older sister. They were close as children."
Ah-ahn was quite beautiful. I almost couldn't take my eyes off of her.
"Go and start preparations and rouse anyone you can get a hold of. We must have the wedding tonight. Even if it isn't grand as I would like."
"Will we make it in time," I asked. "It's a lot of work for one person. Perhaps I could help?"
The old man nodded, "That's a good idea. But forgive me, I must retire for now. Or else have no energy for the wedding." He turned to his granddaughter, "Fetch me when the preparations are ready." As he left us alone in the courtyard.
"What can I do," I asked her.
"We're going to need flowers for decoration."
I pulled a rose out from behind her ear, "I happen to have a case of these on hand at all times." I put the flower in her hair.
She smiled, "Thank you."
"What else?"
"Um, we already have tables for family gatherings. There should be enough food in the freezers that we can just heat up. I need to call my aunt to come help. And wake up some of the kids. Also...we kind of need a statue of some sort, as a stand-in for my sister."
"Statue? I think I have just the thing."
Hours went by and it was the dead of the night, but watching all the people bustling around the courtyard, the kids in excited whispers, you'd never guess that all of us should have been sleeping. Soon the tables were set, the food was hot, even the decorations were strung, and I had procured my mannequin from my luggage and a few of the menfolk were putting it together inside the main living room.
Several times I found myself laughing and having a good time with the others, although chasing that hen made me look quite ridiculous, and several times I bumped into Ah-ahn and we would talk and exchange a few words. In the beginning she talked mostly about her sister. How she was troublesome as a child. Always hiding things. I told her about the pouch appearing and disappearing in my hotel. And we both had a good laugh. Eventually we talked about ourselves. I learned she wanted to get away from here, "To see the world," she told me. The more we talked the closer we got. I could feel it. Soon we were bumping into each other just to feel our bodies touch. But before anything else transpired the wedding preparations were complete.
The old man was retrieved from his bedroom and everyone gathered outside in the courtyard, looking into the main living room. There was a wooden shrine in the back of the room and the mannequin had been traditionally dressed. From an old box the grandfather retrieved several personal items that belonged to Meju. And I was then asked to enter the living room.
The grandfather said a few words, and then gave us his blessing. Ah-ahn handed me a bowl of sticky rice ball soup. I had been through this process before and knew what to do. I ate one of the pink balls and then went to go feed my new bride.
Now I've traveled with this mannequin for some time. Seen it at a dozen of my own shows. Slept with it in the room. Knew that it was in fact a dummy for all intents and purposes. However, as I started moving my spoon toward it. I swear I saw it's chest rise as if it were breathing.
I couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol ebbing away from earlier or a trick of the light. But even its shoulders looked softer than usual. My hand started shaking as it got closer to her mouth. It was like watching an out of body experience as the spoon inched under her veil. And then the CRUNCH. It scared the fucking shit out of me. I looked around hoping to see some kid in the corner playing a dumb joke. But there were none. And I didn't believe what I was seeing even as the veil started moving as her jaws chewed the sticky material back and forth.
"No way," I shook. "There's just no way." My hand was so close to the veil. "Oh God. Please. I have to know how this is done." I ripped off the veil.
Meju looked very much like her picture. But older. And then older. And older. As if her face was starting to rot away as it contorted. People behind me screamed. The lightbulbs we had strung popped. Kids were running around and the grandfather fell to the floor clutching his heart.
I backed away, the spoon clattering to the ground as I watched the mannequin crick and crack as its arms and legs bent in a tangled mess until it was walking on all fours!
The thing grabbed the bent down to the grandfather and started chewing!
I turned around and saw the other guests were piling out of the courtyard. The tables were upturned and only the dim crescent light of the moon bore down on us. Everyone was screaming trying to get out. I ran and bumped into Ah-ahn. She whirled terrified and then realized it was me. She yelled, "You never! Look at the bride before it's time!"
"I'm so sorry! I didn't know. I thought it was a trick!"
She grabbed her face, her nails leaving streaks behind as she clawed at her skin, "Now she's going to kill every living blood relative. And then you." Ah-ahn laughed manically. "She's going to torture you!"
The people kept pushing around us until we got separated. Her final words still ringing in my ears as I took to the dirt road outside and started running. I ran for nearly a mile before I spotted a cab sitting outside of someone's house. I banged on their door and then begged them to take me to the airport. Throwing at them all the money from the dowry.
When I arrived at the airport I hurried through the TSA. Relieved at the lights and normal looking people. I boarded my flight. Tapping my foot nervously the entire time, staring out the small squarish window as we prepared to take off. The sun was starting to rise as the engine roared. I took one last look at the island as we flew away. Still trying to catch my breath at what I had just caused.
My mind was reeling as I heard two knocking noises, they sounded oddly familiar, and for a second I thought that Meju had finished with her family and had somehow come boarded. But then I realized the noise was coming from my carry-on. I reached inside and pulled out two red shaped crescents that the Monk at the temple had given to me. And I realized that if I ever needed any form of divine guidance this was it.
So right there in the tiny aisle. I asked the gods if I had escaped and threw the Jiaobei.
No.
I asked the gods if I would be safe.
No.
I asked them would Meju kill me.
Both flat.
Both flat.
Both flat.
s

If I were to be fully honest with myself, I knew we would be forever, or we’d end in disaster. I think a part of you may have felt that, too. So why could we never meet each other in the middle. Perhaps, we were subconsciously unwilling to do so. From the moment we met, we were living on opposite ends of the spectrum. You were finding yourself and wanted freedom; I had been finding myself within my freedom but was now ready for partnership. And, truth be told, I was lonely. I think it was excruciatingly hard to admit the level of my own loneliness as I equated it to weakness within myself. I love being alone. I thrive in an environment where I have freedom and room to breathe. I’m fiercely independent and I take pride in that. But I’m still just a person and I must recognize the toll it takes on my spirit and, on my soul, to be so secluded. Having chosen to stay single and celibate for 5 years to work on myself and my life and my goals, changed my brain chemistry. And I would do it over and over again if I had to. While I learned invaluable lessons on my own inner strength and perseverance, I severely neglected the raw, emotional, intimate, creative, feminine being that is so deeply, me. I was starting to lose myself. The blatant lack of figures in my life was steadily becoming more than I could bear. The unbearable weight of nothing at all creates a whole new ache. So, there it is. I was lonely. Lonelier than I can describe. And then you showed up.
I have to say, I’ve developed a very toxic, on again/ off again relationship with dating apps. I have a habit of creating a profile and deleting it within 24 hours. There’s something slightly addicting to the extreme high and low of it all. I’ll go from feeling wildly confident and hopeful with a few matches and dozens upon dozens of people who like my profile, to quick disillusionment with every uninspired response from potential prospects. Perhaps this is what it’s like to have a gambling addiction. Every time I create a new profile, I’m buzzing with excitement that maybe, just maybe, this time I’ll meet “the one”. And even though the outcome is always a letdown, the thrill of the “what if”, alone, is enough to keep me coming back for more. The dopamine of maybes. And so, on this Thanksgiving night, when good food and quality family time should have been enough, Bumble was calling my name.
I made a profile. I even paid for the month-long subscription. This was a way to force myself to actually give it a shot instead of bowing out in the first 48. Can’t just delete the profile when I’ve literally invested in it. But I can’t deny that it did come with benefits. One of the incentives to get you to pay for their premium subscription is that it allows you to see everyone who has liked your profile without having to match with them first. I mean who doesn’t want to see that? It’s this particular perk that made it possible for our paths (profiles) to cross, in the first place.
So, how is it that my willingness to throw away $50 on this night, somehow led us straight into each other’s lives? If I hadn’t seen that you liked my profile, I never would have swiped right on you. And it’s not for any reason you may be thinking. While I was scrolling through to see who was seemingly interested in little ole me, I saw your picture. I was instantly intrigued. You stood out. Handsome, stylish, a former fellow Paul Mitchell Future Professional. As surface level as a profile is, you seemed like a very interesting person; someone infinitely cooler than me and you certainly didn’t appear to have a hard time finding someone to take the spot next to you. If I hadn’t seen that you liked my profile, I would have just swiped left thinking there was no way someone like you would be interested in someone like me. Another missed connection, lost to the void of the internet because of my own insecurity. But not on this night. Because on this night, I threw caution and fifty bucks to the wind, and we matched, and I messaged you and you messaged back.
The small talk was easy with you. You were sweet and charming. Very quickly our small talk turned into essays upon essays of messages, and it only got better once I gave you, my number. From sunup to far past sundown, we were in constant communication, and I looked forward to every text. It seemed like you were truly interested in getting to know everything about me and I assure you, I was truly interested in getting to know all about you. You really were a breath of fresh air. It hadn’t been easy to find someone I could chat with like that, for quite some time. And it was thrilling. It was refreshing. It was new. I felt seen. I felt heard. For the first time in such an agonizingly long time, I saw possibility. I remember thinking to myself that even if this didn’t pan out in a romantic sense, I at least had found an amazing new friend. Someone new and beautiful to be a part of my life.
Even though we had been hitting it off right from the jump and even though I had been so taken with you, I had to do my due diligence. As a single woman and single mother with a lot to lose, anytime someone new comes into my life, it’s always a good idea to know who I’m speaking with. Personally, I think it’s in everyone’s best interest to do a little digging when someone new enters their life. You can call it paranoia, but I just call it safety.
First, I did what anyone would do, and I searched social media. No Facebook and I couldn’t find an Instagram with your first and last name. Just your Snapchat as it was listed on your Bumble profile. So, then I tried google. It’s truly scary how much you can find on someone with very basic information. In a couple of searches, I found your middle name. I know this sounds like stalker territory, but the only reason I even wanted to know your full name was so I could search a particular state website. For anyone’s protection, I’d recommend it. So, I did. Honestly, I thought I was just wasting my time and being overly cautious, but in a couple of clicks, there it was. Your torrid past laid out in front of me. It scared me. Terrified me. I’ll even admit that I cried in frustration when I found it all. I cried because it just solidified what I had already been feeling; you were too good to be true. I sat with this information for a while and eventually decided, against any instinct inside of me, to still give it a chance. Give you a chance.
Finally, you asked me out. It wasn’t a typical date, but it was an easy way to meet you in person for the first time. To say I was nervous was a vast understatement, but I was also just as giddy. At this point, I’d damn near forgotten the fluttery rush of pending first impressions and I rode the high all day long. Instead of going out to dinner and a movie, you came over to my house for dinner and a root touch up. When I got the “I’m here” text, I’m pretty sure my soul left my body. I never asked you how you felt the day leading up to our meeting. Were you as nervous as I was? I like to think and hope that our energies were vibrating on the same frequencies, that day, but I may have been the only one so hopeful. When I saw you in person the first time, I thought you were just as handsome, if not more, standing in the light of my front porch. Admittedly, most of my nervousness stemmed from the thought that you might have been disappointed when you saw me in person. Perhaps, you were, but if that were the case, you hid your disenchantment, well.
I cooked spaghetti that night. You ate two bowls. You kept telling me how delicious it was and even though it took absolutely nothing for me to prepare the meal, I was charmed by how grateful you were. After we ate, I did your hair. I picked out a funny podcast to listen to in the background. I thought that if conversation died, we could listen in unawkward silence and hopefully you’d think it was as funny as I did. To my surprise, the conversation didn’t die at all. In fact, us talking over the podcast just became distracting, so I turned it off, altogether. Eventually, it was time to wash your hair. To make up for the fact that you had to be bent over in an extremely uncomfortable way, I attempted to give you a decent scalp massage while I shampooed. Because of the odd angle, it was a clumsy attempt, at best, but I still hoped you liked it. It’s funny to me that the whole time I couldn’t help but think how oddly intimate it was washing your hair in my kitchen sink. But I think I’m just weird. After that, we moved to the couch. You were sitting on one end, and I was sitting on the other. No music, no podcasts, no tv, just us. It seemed like we discussed anything and everything. If there was a lull in the conversation, you’d just stare at me with a soft smile and assured me that this silence was peaceful, and you were enjoying it. But, every time I met your gaze, I could feel myself blushing, so I grabbed my blanket and kept holding it up to my face. You said I was being cute. Even long after this first meeting, I’d always feel so exposed, so vulnerable, when I’d catch you looking at me like that. Despite my bashfulness, I was more comfortable with you than I’d been with another person in a very long time. I even had the courage to bring up my sleuthing and the things I had found. You took it very well and even thanked me for my honesty. You told me everything, sparing no details. You took ownership of the things you had done and placed blame where you felt was deserved. It was matter of fact with an edge of remorse. I commended your vulnerability and willingness to share. I left the conversation feeling very pleased with my decision to hear you out. And I was proud of your seemingly incredible amount of self-awareness.
Eventually, I had to cut our night off. I had to work the next day and it was nearly one in the morning. You didn’t try to kiss me. You gave me a hug before you left and assured me that you had a great night. I thought, for sure, you weren’t interested after meeting me in person, but I was just so happy that I’d have you as a friend, that any bruise on my ego wasn’t even felt. Afterwards, our texts continued as normal, and it would only be a few short days before you came over again.
The next time you came over, any doubt that I may have had about you being attracted to me or being interested, was put to rest. This time we watched movies. Or maybe just a show I had on. I can’t remember. My brain was too fixated on how closely you were sitting next to me. How close your hand was getting to mine. How our pinkies finally brushed against each other. How you gained the courage, for both of us, to grab my hand and I was so thankful you did. Eventually, the movie or show ended, and we started talking. The nervousness and building tension were palpable. I was screaming in my head “kiss me”. When you finally turned to face me, you just stared at me and smiled, still holding my hand, and then you asked if it’d be okay if you kissed me. I answered with a desperate “yes” that sounded far more pathetic than I like to admit. To my own surprise, I let my body take charge. Without even thinking, I dropped your hand and immediately grabbed for you. One hand on your chest and the other on the side of your face. Our first kiss was not soft and timid like you may have expected. In fact, I felt I may have surprised you. I certainly surprised myself. Our first kiss was fervent and laced with aching desire. At least, that’s how it was for me. And it didn’t take long for me to invite you to my bedroom.
Neither of us were prepared, so we didn’t have sex that night, which was okay. Once we were in the bedroom, I began to feel overwhelmed. But you were so patient and reassuring. When we did finally have sex for the first time, it was absolutely incredible. I never told you this, but it was possibly the most intense sexual experience I've had in my life, thus far, and it was very emotionally charged, for me. You were the first person I’d been with in five years. Up until then, I had wondered if I’d ever be capable of being intimate with someone, again. But I trusted you implicitly. Effortlessly. You made me feel so safe. Before every kiss, before every touch, you made sure to ask me if it was okay. If I wanted to stop at any moment, I knew I could speak up without fear of any form of retaliation or passive aggressive behavior. But I didn’t want to stop. I wanted you; all of you. I wanted us. And God, how beautiful you made me feel even though I was so intensely insecure about my body. You made sure I was comfortable. Comfortable with myself; comfortable with you. You took your time with everything you did. The sensation of it all was overwhelming in the best way possible. The sensation of you was almost more than I could stand. To be completely honest, it felt like losing my virginity, all over again. You were so patient and understanding. So caring and passionate. And from that moment on, you had me wrapped around your finger; just where you wanted me.

Hideo Itami jumps straight to the main roster, wasting no time on NXT and staking his claim in the biggest promotion in the world after being one of the most sought after talents for decades. Itami debuts at SummerSlam 2014, accepting Cesaro’s United States Championship Open Challenge and shocking the world, defeating Cesaro and becoming a champion in his first night in the company. Cesaro is bewildered.
Itami makes his first defence of the United States Championship on Raw against Kofi Kingston, with his first major title program being in the form of the Celtic Warrior, Sheamus. At Night of Champions, Hideo Itami successfully defends the US Championship against Sheamus in a barn burner, a physical and brutal matchup demonstrating KENTA’s willpower. However, he is lead back to Cesaro following Night of Champions, who makes the claim that he has been vicariously studying Itami since his impromptu SummerSlam 2014 debut, and if he was to have a rematch for the United States Championship, he’d use it wisely. At Hell in a Cell, Cesaro and Itami are given 30 minutes and in an amazing Two out of Three Falls Match, Itami proves his worth once and for all, defeating Cesaro 2-1. After the match, the two shake hands.
Following Hell in a Cell, impressed by Itami’s talent, he gets an offer from The Authority to become an advocate. Itami goes back and forth, but instead sides with Team Cena at Survivor Series (taking Ryback’s spot) where he makes it far, however, is eliminated by the unstoppable Rusev in the second half of the match. The Authority punish Itami, and two weeks later on Raw, Itami drops the United States Championship to Rusev in what’s near enough a squash match. Itami instigates his rematch clause for TLC, with the stipulation being a Tables Match, however, Rusev takes the definitive victory there as well, continuing his menacing undefeated streak.
Going into the New Year, the options are open for Itami, as he enters the Royal Rumble Match, where he makes it to the final two with Daniel Bryan. The crowd go back and forth on their fan favourites, however, Daniel Bryan takes the victory. This frustrates Itami, who seeks Bryan out for a one-on-one match, with Bryan putting his Royal Rumble Winner Spot on the line. Fastlane is main evented by Daniel Bryan vs Hideo Itami, with Daniel Bryan winning after 27 minutes of brutal and physical action, reminiscient of the glory days of Ring of Honor.
At WrestleMania 31, Hideo Itami challenges Dean Ambrose for the Intercontinental Championship. Despite both men promising to keep the fight fair, even in light of the escalation of tension in the build, Itami goes back on his promise, turning heel on the night and low blowing Ambrose with the referee’s attention diverted. Itami hits a GTS and becomes the new Intercontinental Champion, the fans shocked. The next night on Raw, it is revealed that Hideo Itami is now aligned with Paul Heyman, who begins to cut promos on behalf of Itami.
At Extreme Rules, Dean Ambrose has a rematch with Hideo Itami for the Intercontinental Championship, with it being an Extreme Rules Match. Blood is shed and despite Itami’s efforts, Ambrose’s personal vendetta prevails as he wins back the Intercontinental Championship. However, Heyman assures Itami that the path for him is instead through the King of the Ring Tournament, which Itami steamrolls, defeating Dolph Ziggler in Round One, Tyson Kidd in the Semi-Finals and Neville in an amazing Final. As Itami sits on the throne, Paul Heyman declares him as King KENTA.
As part of winning the King of the Ring tournament, he becomes the Number One Contender for Seth Rollins’ WWE World Heavyweight Championship. Heyman cites that KENTA has won both the US and Intercontinental championships already, and the World Championship is imminent. In the main event of Payback, King KENTA and Seth Rollins go the full mile, it is a spectacle of a main event with Seth just edging the victory to the chagrin of Heyman. However, not all hope is lost, as King KENTA qualifies for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship Elimination Chamber Match at Elimination Chamber. In the match, also including Neville, Dolph Ziggler and Sheamus, KENTA eliminates Dean Ambrose, closing that chapter, however, is eventually eliminated by Rollins, who continues to get the upper hand over KENTA.
Running out of ideas, Heyman pleads his way into KENTA getting into the Money in the Bank Ladder Match. However, KENTA does not win, and the next night on Raw, Heyman ‘disposes’ of King KENTA to Brock Lesnar. KENTA takes it personally, and in the main event of Ryogoku at Beast in the East, Brock Lesnar and King KENTA show down, with KENTA now an anti-hero after his heel run. Lesnar is alienated in the moment, as KENTA beats him down, however, right before KENTA is about to win, Lesnar gets himself disqualified and beats KENTA down.
At Battleground, King KENTA challenges for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship once more, while also having a chance to fulfil his revenge on Paul Heyman and Brock Lesnar, as the main event is a triple threat match, Lesnar vs KENTA vs Rollins. To protect Lesnar, The Undertaker prevents Lesnar from winning and therefore King KENTA PINS Seth Rollins in a huge surprise and becomes WWE World Heavyweight Champion to close out Battleground.
At SummerSlam, Kevin Owens, who has recently come out of a feud with John Cena, challenges King KENTA for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship, with Seth Rollins facing John Cena and The Undertaker facing Brock Lesnar as in real life. KENTA defends successfully against Kevin Owens, and defends against Chris Jericho at Night of Champions, however, at Survivor Series 2015, Roman Reigns defeats King KENTA to take the championship off him after five total successful defences.

I'm back from my brothers bachelor weekend and here to fire back some more responses

the question of authority is not one that any Christian gets to determine and really gets to the heart of why the Messianic sect is not Judaism. It is an internal question for Judaism and Jewish communities. The fact that Jews have accepted the following authorities for centuries is enough to make them authoritative. Whereas you, as a Christian, must accept the new testament as the final authority, and are determining which Jewish authorities you're willing to accept based on whether they align with the new testament. This quite obviously places you outside the authority structure of Judaism and reveals that you are thoroughly Christian. Simply put, there's no way for you to appeal to Jewish authorities to validate Christianity because Jewish authorities all concur that it is idolatry for a Jew to practice Christianity and that a Jew who practices Christianity is an apostate who has removed themselves from the community.

I don't care if you think I don't get to question authority, you nor any other Jew does not own the text in question and even If I were to say I were a Christian, Christianity is a religion that literally descended from 2nd Temple Judaism same as modern Judaism, which means those text belong to it as much as they belong to Judaism.
This idea of "ownership" is a basic Singerite talking point and it's one of complete ignorance, no one owns an idea, or an ancient text for matter.
edit: you even taking the time to address me proves your own take on this wrong, as you don't go out of your way to address normal Christians, only people like me. Ill wait for you to make that "Anti-Christianity" subreddit to and make strawman arguments about what they do.

The Talmud is authoritative

I'm not going to lie, I have very low opinions of the Messianicphobic crowd, I find them very pathetic for a multitude of reasons. but I expect you to be smarter then this.

Bekhorot 7b ת"ר דג טמא משריץ דג טהור מטיל ביצים כל המוליד מניק וכל המטיל ביצים מלקט חוץ מעטלף שאף על פי שמטיל ביצים מניק The Gemara cites the entirety of the previously mentioned baraita. The Sages taught that a non-kosher fish spawns its offspring, while a kosher fish lays eggs. Any animal that gives birth to its offspring nurses them, and any animal that lays eggs gathers food and feeds it to its young. This applies to all animals except for a bat [atallef ], as although it lays eggs, it nurses its young. 

It looks like our friend it now hard locked into defending that Bats lay eggs
Seder Olam Rabbah gets the dates for the Persian exile VERY WRONG
SIDE NOTE: there's no quote here has I can't even find a good English version and wish for this to be as readable as possible for people who don't believe me I can provide the quote.

Sanhedrin 109a (אלא) א"ר ירמיה בר אלעזר נחלקו לג' כיתות אחת אומרת נעלה ונשב שם ואחת אומרת נעלה ונעבוד עבודת כוכבים ואחת אומרת נעלה ונעשה מלחמה זו שאומרת נעלה ונשב שם הפיצם ה' וזו שאומרת נעלה ונעשה מלחמה נעשו קופים ורוחות ושידים ולילין וזו שאומרת נעלה ונעבוד עבודת כוכבים (בראשית יא, ט) כי שם בלל ה' שפת כל הארץ Rather, Rabbi Yirmeya bar Elazar says: They divided into three factions; one said: Let us ascend to the top of the tower and dwell there. And one said: Let us ascend to the top of the tower and engage in idol worship. And one said: Let us ascend to the top of the tower and wage war. With regard to that faction that said: Let us ascend to the top of the tower and dwell there, God dispersed them. And that faction that said: Let us ascend to the top of the tower and wage war, became apes, and spirits, and demons, and female demons. And with regard to that faction that said: Let us ascend to the top of the tower and engage in idol wor-ship, it is written: “Because there the Lord confounded the language of all the earth” (Genesis 11:9). 

Apes came form people too and no that not me mistaking that for some symbology the Rabbi who debated Ethan Bar talked about this as if it were a good thing!
Edit: For reasons unknown the debate is now privte (proof of its existence https://news.kehila.org/video-historical-messianic-debate-with-english-subtitles/ ) Im gunna work on trying to extract it and uploading it on a separate channel but if anyone wants to not believe that's fine.
I think 3 examples is enough to show that no one wants to be in a position were ALL of Talmud is authoritative because its not. In reality the Talmud is a collection of ruling from the Sanhedrin, Commentary on those rulings and some Myth and Folklore.
The point? Chazal (the people with authentic Smeikhah) never ruled on anything even related to the religious beliefs of the Nazarenes which is why one has to go to later Geonim, Rishonim and Acharonim for such bigoted opinions and as shown below, all they have is OPINON not AUTHORITY.

and the Talmud unequivocally categorizes Christianity as avodah zarah. Maimonides is also generally authoritative for halakha.

except They didn't, and he isn't because he wasn't a member of Chazal I know this offends you but this demonstrable reality to the point that it has it own Wikipedia quote from the page on Semikhah (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Semikhah)
" The original line of succession seems to have died out in the 4th or 5th centuries. The Geonim, early medieval Jewish sages of Babylon, did not possess semikhah, and did not use the title "rabbi". They were formally known as "rav" and were entrusted with authority to make legal and religious decisions."

The classification of idolatry is a halakhic judgment

I don't think you know what that constitutes as most of the Rabbis of Northern France were all corporatists (believed God could have a body) at a point (no citation for brevity can provide on request)

The Meiri is the outlier in saying that Christianity isn't idolatry

*face palm* you keep missing this AGAIN the point is that it can be a Jewish opinion that its NOT Idolatry outliership is not a checkmark for being wrong.

"Whoever leaves the Jewish religion and adopts another religion is considered a member of that religion in every respect except in matters of divorce, marriage, or any matter of familial affairs."
So the Meiri is not going to get you far in this debate. Even according to him, Messianics have ceased to be Jews in all but a few respects.

My same refutation that you've never addressed still stand here, your not in the Meiris head, so you don't know what his opinions on the status of todays world would be. On top of that we didn't leave, I don't care if you feel like we have I don't have to capitulate to your feels on who does what and why.

I have yet to see a Messianic organization prioritize Judaism, Jewish theology, or Jewish scripture (including the Talmud) over Christianity.

Well that would be because you not familiar with Messianic Judaism, your familiar with an online character created by people like Tovi Singer while never actually engaging with any Messianic beyond the computer screen, Odds are the ones you have talked to are in reality Hebrew Rooters (a cosmetically similar group but literally composed of only Gentiles) so when you say this, all this really tells me is that you don't know because instead of choosing to ask questions and debate in good faith. you choose to instead raid and make a subreddit over the topic of bigotry towards us proving what I told all of you so long ago about how we TOTALLY live rent free in your head.
Edit: assuming your desperate to prove me wrong! http://ourrabbis.org/main/ have fun!
Part 3 will be on "Common deflecting tactics of Messianics" and if anyone wants a sample the gist will be "people in glass houses should not throw stones"

Good day!
(I started this ramble as a feedback e-mail, but before finishing it found this sub-reddit where I heard the devs are active? Current game version as of writing: 1.5.4.)
A big thank you to everyone involved in developing and delivering Pickle Pete! It is easily in my top 10 most fun mobile games and I very nearly consider it a masterpiece of the genre. I've put in dozens of hours of playtime at the least.
I'll lead with critical bullet points, follow them up with elaboration and my experience, then end with praise bullet points for those that care to read it.
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Opportunities for Improvement:

1. There is no in-game method to replay the intro sequence.
2. Each playable character should have their own, even if very short, intro animation.
3. Intro animations / bestiary for enemies.
4. Add more bang for more bucks.
5. Honor those that spent gems on chests before additional rewards for cumulative openings was added.
6. No in game text tips.
7. Narrow preferable choices for mutations and equip-able active skill.
8. Weapon attachments
9. Farming the last available boss could be more rewarding.
10. "Blessings" is an awesome system, but isn't congruent with the game thematically.
11. Long animation delay on skill selection cards. Not an issue for new players.
12. Add weapon trade-in vendor.
13. Possible bug: when swapping apps and returning to Pickle Pete while playing Endless game play will continue, but pickles will refrain from dropping making points no longer acquirable until the run is terminated. Possibly intentional to reduce cheating.

​
I've been playing Pickle Pete over the last few weeks and it's clearly a step above most mobile games on the market now. I had completed all main campaign levels and additional game modes just before the level twelve update. This was of course followed closely by multiple other updates which kept resetting my endless rank. ::MadNotMad:: After 3 committed attempts I've broken into the top one-hundred twice and top ten once. I did all of this without purchasing anything...yet, nearly acquiring all of the bonus blessing stats, and working up to a purple SMG for a starter weapon. I still have no legendary gear...yet.
I've loved video games since my grandparents let me load up games I can't completely recall on their MS-DOS computer. I don't always have as much time as I'd like to game, but I have been mashing buttons for nearly three decades. I believe there is some overlap between what makes a game fun and what makes a game well designed. What people find fun will vary, but I see good design as a more objective truth. Even though I'm no professional it's clear to me that Pickle Pete had/has at least a rock star or two infusing good design principles.
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1. First things first. The intro animation may have been added after I started playing for a bit. I can't recollect. In any event I skipped some of it. Sure I can and have viewed it on youtube, but it's still taking up space on my phone right? Can we get an in-game button to replay it?
​
2. Speaking of intro animations.. each character should get one! Even if just a short one that plays when acquiring one. (And maybe also a replay button.) It could highlight or hint at the different bonuses that apply at the end of their roll moves.
**Mr. Peely** \- Running, slips into a back flip, beginning of slip flip face is surprised/worried, midway through flip face is determined/smug, animation becomes a blur, lands while doing a split and swinging upward with an axe cleaving an enemy in two.
**Corny McCob** \- A yellow cylinder is rapidly spinning on two squares of butter, butter drops are being flung away at various directions, the cylinder launches away, three point hero landing, camera panning up from feet reveals a maniacal cob of corn holding a pipe bomb, glancing left and right, I don't like that look in his eyes or that blinking red light.
**Willy the Wiener** \- Is that a rapidly disassembled picnic table riddled with bullet holes flying through the air? Camera pans down to a beach front while cinders and charcoal pieces are jettisoned from a barbecue grill. Willy is tanning hides with a quickness holding dual uzis. Arms and uzis are a blur until they snap into clarity between each volley.
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3. It's only fair that the enemies of the game get a little love. They're getting slaughtered out there! Something has to raise morale. Why not a little intro sequence highlighting their attack? And/or a bestiary somewhere in the menus. Descriptions with similar tone to what is found in the game Plants vs. Zombies would be fitting.
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4. I find the current monetization models most prevalent, specifically in the mobile market, shameful. If I could go back in time and kill baby Hitler - I wouldn't. I'd smoke the mofo that thought it was a good idea to make Candy Crush monstrously profitable. Just kidding. Ninety-Nine dollars is a big chunk towards the latest gen console or a kick ass graphics card. Or... a pile of in game currency that shaves off some time and possibly puts you ahead of fellow gamers... I know it's just the way of things currently, but the cliche gem crates for various prices including one for ninety-nine dollars is personally a huge annoyance. It is one of the first things I look for in a game and determines along with the obvious passion that was put into the games creation that determines whether I will spend any money within it.
Money is part of what makes life unfun for many, and now more than ever it's detracting from a core reason gaming is fun. In my opinion games should be as level as a playing field as they can be outside of 'real life'. Paying to win robs fledgling gamers of skill ceiling, feelings of accomplishment, and the bragging rights that come with leveling up without swiping a credit card.
So dump the uninspired gem boxes for money or at least throw in some extra cosmetics, alternate soundtracks, or the option for players to add their own content. Something to move the needle in the other direction and show appreciation to those who help fund access and development for those that can't. The move would ideally garner more appreciation and wind up netting more money anyway. Or I might need to see an optimismoptomitrist about adjusting the shade of my glasses.
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5. I haven't yet, but I will be spending some money on this game. It's too good not to. I'd like to at least craft a legendary starter weapon beforehand though. Just so I can say I did. It makes me wince a little inside knowing that if I had saved my marshmallows I would have spent enough gems on large chests by now to acquire a guaranteed legendary item. I opened three before the update was released that added the cumulative reward. Any chance a catch-up / credit can be implemented for all in the same boat?
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6. I must have missed the message that explains the way the uncollected pickles and the pickle jar interacts. It took me longer than I'd like to admit to figure out what the jar was all about. Could we get this and other such game tips added? Maybe incoming update teaser message as well. They could be auto-cycling fade in/out text messages in the empty space underneath the boss picture on the stage selection screen.
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7. I've read some google reviews of the game suggesting that melee weapons need adjusting. I think they're just fine. They receive strong bonuses from the viking four-set. They're best used to supplement range damage as the timing of damage between melee and low fire rate range is staggered. If you want to up the difficulty of the game, try going for full melee builds. It's like a hidden difficulty slider. An active skill equip could be added to enable the player to throw their melee weapons for a duration, turning such builds into a challenging wave clearer, but a monstrous boss killer. If nothing else throw in some Lightsab...I mean... Laser Swords.
What I find simultaneously the most easily fixed and largest flaw of the game is the narrow preferable choice in mutations and equip-able active skills. Similar to my perspective concerning melee weapons this system could be viewed as a difficulty slider. I think it would instead be more fun to modify them to make them more compelling. The damage bonus to enemies on fire would be more viable if the active skill that set the enemies on screen on fire was on a shorter cooldown. Now that I'm thinking about it though this combo may be just fine if you want to build up larger health enemies first or do more damage to bosses. The cooldown and fire duration still seem kind of dissatisfying. Maybe add hidden bonuses that increase the draw rate of things like the fire mace while either or both are equipped.
The knock back skill is more underwhelming than the fire. The most viable use I can think of for this one is securing supply crates. The cd could be shortened on the skill or turn the skill into a time warping bubble that begins with a knock back. While the bubble is active increase player attack speed and damage taken, but any enemies or projectiles entering the bubble will have drastically reduced movement speed.
Maybe more diverse enemies could then be added so that occasionally what once was an optional item is near mandatory for a time. Urging players to try out new builds for success while making more items feel like they've earned their place in the game.
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8. One last item modification idea. Weapon attachments! Scopes, Stocks, Barrels, Carbon Fiber Axe Handles, stuff like that to modify 'Own' weapon stats. Maybe you have to collect pieces for them from specific bosses. Late game players would have a reason to return to earlier levels and in turn see the progress they've made as they rack up way more pickles than their first time through. This would also give a bit of a push/pull mechanic to the energy system. The energy system I suspect is just there to prevent supply crate farming abuse. I've rarely run out of energy while still wanting to play which I like. All attachments could be lost upon upgrading or resetting the weapon to keep the hamster wheel spinning, make the efforts toward building them more meaningful, and delay the realization of weapons full capabilities.
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9. The above change would make farming the last available boss more rewarding as well. The latest boss being the most difficult to kill and dropping the latest released weapons attachments would give successive runs more meaning.
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10. Another change that I feel should be done quickly is 86ing the blessing system. Not entirely. It is a win-win addition that makes watching nearly pointless ads more satisfying. But it just doesn't mesh with the Pickle Pete theme. Idea: 'Condiments' may not make sense for all of the characters, but thinking 'Hot Sauce' for the +25% damage boost. Visual effects for each can be added to the character to cement the system in the player's mind. "Aww crap my character isn't throwing off glitter sparks. I forgot to grab the the gold gain bonus."
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11. This change suggestion is more for experienced players that have earned their stripes. When doing long endless runs especially the animation delay after picking skill cards is slightly annoying. It's not major, but I wanna go fast! Make this delay toggleable after the player has cleared all the extra game mode levels or killed the final available boss or meeting both requirements. Let's gooooo!
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12. A change that would be good for players of all experience levels would be a weapon trader. Maybe you can set up a trade-in shop preference before level select. Should you find the merc vendor in a level you can trade one of your currently equipped weapons for an equal grade preferred weapon. Even if at an additional cost...gotta make pickles somehow.
​
13. Possible bug: when swapping apps and returning to Pickle Pete while playing Endless game play will continue, but pickles will refrain from dropping making points no longer acquirable until the run is terminated. Possibly intentional to reduce cheating.
​
Things that make you go 'Awesome!':

• Pickle Pete! is not another copy and paste code cash grab. ...I'm imagining a darty eyed programmer hesitantly grinning 'right' while slowly nodding. :D
• Viability of numerous gear and skill selections.
• Excellent sound design. I especially love the long battle track that only reveals itself as you progress to long lasting waves.
• Animations and weapon targeting is on point.
• UI and loading screen design.
• Creative additional game modes.
• Competitive Endless!?! This is a massive boon to replay-ability, keeps the game off the 'eh I may as well uninstall' list, and takes me back to playing Diablo 2. Yeah you beat the game, but how many people have you beaten that have beat the game? I love it. The only improvement I would consider for endless is implementation of a wave skip feature. You'll get more points faster, but only be able to skip as far as progress you've earned minus X amount. Skip too much and you might not be able to crush the wave with your relatively diminished gear. Maybe wave skip is only available once a day too.
• I'm Pickle Pete!

I recently wrote an article that startled me with its reaction. Over 330,000 people read it in two days on Reddit alone. It was We Have Had 2 Recessions And 2 Bear Markets in 3 Years, Will It Be 3 In Just 4 Years? I suggest reading it first. It starts with "I have watched the stock market since the 1970s. Never in my life have I seen so many people think a recession was coming before. Yet this has gone on for about 9 months, and still no recession. "
This Friday, 6-2-2023, was a breakout day for both the SP500 and the Russell 2000 (small caps). The SP500 did a Cup and Handle breakout and the Russell a flat bottom base breakout. The NASDAQ 100 has already broken out, for a while. Yes, there are all sorts of bad things and stock valuations are poor. But does that mean the stock market will not go up? Look at 2020 and 2021 as recent examples of bad problems and extremely high valuations, and the stock market still went up big anyway. We have had two bear markets in the last 3 years, a rare event. One other factor. Oil stocks are at arguably the best valuations ever and maybe the best sector valuation ever. The Russell small caps recently made new lows in its ongoing bear market, which after Friday, is maybe over. The Russell blew away the NASDAQ on Friday, in terms of gains.
What happened on Friday? Well, the debt ceiling was kicked down the road as it always is and the Jobs report fooled everyone again This has been going on for about 9 months now, with almost everyone bearish and expecting a recession. The jobs market is actually hot. This was not predicted at all.
I totally agree with people like Danny Moses, Guy Adami, Carter Worth and Dan Nathan that point out all the bad things as they do in this video, but does that mean we will crash, as they have been expecting for months? They do a good job of making the bear case, but then what happened? The next day the Russell broke out of that range they talked about containing it, on their chart. YouTube link to that will be in comments.
So, will the economy fool everyone and not go into recession? Maybe, and sure has so far.
To the last question Where Do Oil Stocks Go from Here? This one I am much surer of; in my opinion they will go into a historic bull market. I have already experienced one, having bought them heavily in 2020 COVID crash. Received several 10x and 20x movers and just about any oil stock did a 5x in that rally.
Here is a happy story of what is possible in such bull markets in oil stocks. I bought Cardinal, a Canadian oil stock. Got a 20 bagger and now it has a 1% a month roughly dividend. Yes, that means I am roughly getting 200% yearly dividends now and have been getting them for a while. And in the last month have bought more Cardinal. At 1% dividend a month on a 4 PE stock with a CROIC of 30%, it is still a great deal. The valuations are better now than in 2020 for oil stocks. Back then they were in danger of going under, but dirt cheap. Now dirt cheap at higher prices, yet much higher safety with wonderful balance sheets and cash flows.
These two charts show that oil stocks are dirt cheap and spending less on CapEx than ever before, as a percent of Cash Flow. This time is different, they are not overinvesting as they did every time before when oil went over $100. Again, link in comments.
Eric Nuttal, who runs Canada's biggest oil stock fund, talked about the coming oil stock bull market in a recent video. About how buybacks can drive a $20 oil stocks to over $1 million a share, unless they go up greatly before the buyouts complete. Do not scoff, he is right. He makes the case for oil stocks and high cashflow oil stock buybacks so well in this video, I will not comment myself. The whole thing is worth viewing, but this link starts where he talks buybacks.
On buybacks will do some math here. In this case if a stock started at $20 a share, $1 billion FCF and mkt cap of $3 billion = 150 million shares you will get to $1 billion a share in 3 years if 100% of FCF goes to buybacks and stock does not go up before then. If it rerates to 9x FCF after 1 year then was 3x FCF, 33% of stock removed = 100,000,000 shares and $9 billion market cap = $90 a share a 4.5 X gain in one year.
Reality today June 2023 is the best, we have had big buybacks and prices have stayed about the same in last 12 months on oil stocks. Debt is way down, so they have more money for buybacks.
So, let's go 1 more year at current prices. $1 billion FCF is spent buying back stock. That is 50% of stock left, so now just 50,000,000 shares left. Then it goes to 9 FCF (still cheaper than avg stock out there) so $9 billion mkt cap / 50,000,000 shares left = $180 a share, so a X gain. Pretty good.
Let's go 1 more year. Let's say the market was as stupid as it was in 6-2022 to 6-2023 and price stays the same. That means the remaining 50,000,000 shares are bot back, except for just 1 share. Then it goes to 9 X FCF = $9 billion mkt cap and 1 share = $9 Billion a share. A 450 million times gain. This will not happen because eventually the market wakes up to how stupid it has been after 10?, 20?, 50? times increase in earnings per share, and it rerates the stock way higher, until it no longer is worth buying back. In fact, the company might sell some back for 20 times more than they bought it for, if it makes sense to. Also, if a company gets 2/3s of its stock back, then its EPS going forward, for every Q, will be 3 times higher.
As an example of what can happen with buybacks with far inferior cashflows, and valuations is Teledyne. George Roberts, who worked alongside Singleton, described the experience like this:
Henry was quoted as saying, with a laugh, “In October, 1972, we tendered for one million shares and 8.9 million came in. We took them all at $20 and figured it was a fluke, and that we couldn’t do it again. But instead of going up, our stock went down. So we kept tendering, first at $14 and then doing two bonds-for-stock swaps. Every time one tender was over the stock would go down and we’d tender again, and we’d get a new deluge. Then two more tenders at $18 and $40.”
The first six buybacks were all in the period from 1972 to 1976. The market reacted adversely to this at first, not understanding what Henry was accomplishing. But as the number of shares went down and the company’s operating income continued to grow, the earnings per share increased rapidly and dramatically. In 1970, net income per share was $1.64. By 1975 it was $6.09 per share; in 1976, $10.79; and in 1977, $16.23 per share.
With the first six stock buybacks, a total of some 22 million Teledyne share were repurchased, reducing the number of outstanding common shares to less than 12 million. A seventh stock buyback offer was made in 1980 and the final one in 1984, at the extraordinarily high price of $200 per share. This was about $30 above the current market price and eight million shares were bought back. By September of that year the stock had climbed to $302 per share and was the highest priced stock on the New York Stock Exchange.
The total value of these buybacks was over $2.5 billion, and more than 85 percent of common shares were retired. Shares outstanding had dropped from 88,827,372 in 1971 to 22,564,756 in 1980. Henry also purchased another 5 percent of Teledyne shares on the open market at various times, bringing the buyback total in the years 1972-1984 to over 90 percent of the company’s shares.
Singleton eventually paid off the debt used to buy back shares. By 1985, net income per share was $46.66. The buybacks created a compounding effect on earnings per share.
Remember oil stocks that are doing, or about to do, buybacks are at about 3-7 times better valuations than Teledyne, so they can compound better. Teledyne was never in a position to buy back at a fast enough rate, so that all of their stock could be bought back in 3-4 years, just with free cash flow. So, Teledyne was not even close to being able to do what oil stocks can do today.
An example is Cenovus. As Nuttal pointed out CVE has committed to 100% of FCF to go to buybacks soon, after debt drops. They can buy back all their stock in less than 4 years, unless the stock rerates higher. Teledyne was never even close to being capable to do that.
We just got a kicker for oil stocks, one guessed was coming, just a matter of size.
Sunday (Bloomberg) -- Oil advanced at the week’s open after Saudi Arabia said it will make an extra 1 million barrel-a-day supply cut in July, taking its production to the lowest level for several years following a slide in prices. West Texas Intermediate futures jumped almost 5% early in the session before paring some gains to trade near $74 a barrel. Energy Minister Prince Abdulaziz bin Salman said he “will do whatever is necessary to bring stability to this market” following a tense OPEC+ meeting over the weekend. “The oil market now looks like it will be even tighter in the second half of the year,” ANZ Group Holdings Ltd. analysts Brian Martin and Daniel Hynes wrote in a note. “The move by Saudi Arabia is likely to come as a surprise.”

I just need to get this off my chest. If you want, you can read this whole damn essay.
As someone who plays both teams 50/50, I have no problems with camping. There is no wrong way to arrest someone (as long as you don’t use hacks). I just think camping is boring and for low skill level players. But there is so much aggression towards campers that people don’t even know what one is anymore. I was driving by the prison and saw someone coming out of a grate, so I went and arrested them. They called me a camper, but I’m not actively sitting outside and waiting for people to arrest because after arresting him I kept driving. THATS NOT CAMPING!!! One time I went to go get guns at the gun store, and there was someone there. They tried to kill me, so I tased and arrested them. I went in and got guns and went on my way, but the person I arrested was FURIOUS. They were raging in chat, so I told them I wasn’t camping, just getting guns, but they kept calling me a camper so I ignored. Eventually I come back later to get guns again, and he’s there with all of his friends, guarding the gun store and shooting any cops that get near. I try to get some of them, but die, so I just got guns at another store. But my problem was that they were more than mad at me for camping, so they turned around and did it themselves? They claimed criminals can’t camp because they can’t arrest like cops can, but camping has nothing to do with arresting. They were literally sitting and waiting for cops, is that camping? I again told them I arrested him earlier because I needed guns, and their response was something like “cops don’t need to get guns because they spawn with pistol” 😮…
TL;DR: person thought I was camping gun store (I wasn’t), so they literally came back and camped gun store, claiming criminals can’t camp (even though they were literally sitting and waiting for cops to show up to kill them)