Leon's Microblog – January 2016

"Every external API call is one more friend who could let you down" carved in foot-high letters on the palace's Code Standards Monoliths.
They promised not to laugh as you tell them of your home dimension, but their lips instantly quivered as you began to describe gravity.
You'll wake up, and the email from God will be there, with your final purpose. Your spam filter won't touch it, no matter how you set it.
Each etiquette error will cost you in the border talks. Didn't lick knife: one fiefdom gone. Flinched from the host's punch: a city gone.
You leave the rebel meeting invigorated. Finally, you have enough intel to sell to the Centipede Queen for one of her powerful larvae.
Your coworkers were sent to Hell for trying a chocolate bar "too good not to be a mortal sin", and you're with them in spirit, in overtime.
OK, this year I did it – I finished drawing a "witch persona" for myself.
(WINE, I should mention, isn't an emulator or a virtual machine, just an overambitious compatibility layer.)
I need to say it: it's perverse that Unity games no longer work in OS X 10.6.8 natively, but *do* work if I run the Windows builds in WINE.
"The widows, fishers and clerics that unknowingly nursed the sorcerer back to health after each century's defeat went entirely unmentioned."
"Wait – I'm not hungry. I suddenly feel really full." "That's because the black hole you ate has collapsed your stomach into a singularity."
You knew you'd messed up when the slime eagerly ate your grenade. Now she's coating the walls and doors, and wet smiles are forming on them.
"This sonic stream lulls your brain to sleep from the inside out. Wait calmly and watch as everyone in your memories becomes asleep."
Week three, and what's left of your mind is now gatecrashing your host's erotic dreams to remind them that you'd like to unfuse anytime now.
"Uh" your fellow prosonaut wavers as the footsteps near, "that adjective was surely not as potent when this place was written in the 1800s."
"Look, when I ate drink mix, dry noodles and cookie dough "the Raw Material Trinity", the Revelation of Reality's Origins wasn't THAT cool."
Humans can still prevent even robots next to them from hearing their conversation, by just ending each of their sentences with "NOSPAM".
"Where in your body is your brain?" she asks, "I want to pat the cradle of your thoughts." You hint that she was licking it, minutes prior.
"The sorcerer was thought completely immutable… but the scholars discovered his API exposed a long-deprecated method for in-place mutation."
"Thinking lustily of a still-living demon makes you exude "devil's sweat" – foul-smelling silvery droplets that weigh heavily on the body."
Still grasping human concepts of lewdness, the robot teen somersaults into the garbage after admitting to liking glass fogged-up with breath
Death-ray raygun gunpowder powder-keg
"If someone took a core sample of me, what layers they'd find: dragonqueen, lich, sorceress, scholar, bride, survivor, scared little girl."
Hylian physicians prescribing the ingestion of tiny stone dice to aid passage to the body's rooms… "As above, so below" their credo…
Jabu Jabu in Ocarina of Time lets one extrapolate that all vertebrates in the Zelda universe contain floor-switch nodes and door membranes.
"This is effed up!" *several dogs rush in to see if they can help, only to leave when they find it's more Human Angst* "This is effed up…"
I'm glad that Super Mario 64 speedrunning has a HOLP, and Ocarina of Time has both a HESS *and* a Shadow HESS.
"Since release, thousands of fans have asked, "Why can't the Hi-Tech Death Casino World be the whole game?" Well, we've answered your plea."
Well, losing the finals to the Grimy Coffins means the tournament's taunting ceremony will be filled with slammed lids and ghoulish hooting.
You asked the entire cost of this meal be placed on the final glass of water… The feel of hundred-dollar water down your throat is riveting…
You enter the clearing and discover Adventure Jones is here with his six reluctant sons, their eyes longing for the comfort of rectangles.
"Don't remember who this body used to be, but I paid them off with some of my possession powers, and last I saw they'd flown off in a bird."
You're floating in a swimming pool which has no convenient ladder out, but several stairwells under the surface leading downward.
"Miss Pipsypoo has to lead the party because even though she's an evil cackling doll, only she can absorb us into her sprite to walk around"
The hydra queen lets you accept a bite from her smallest, newest head. Someday, you vow, you'll have every head's venom in your veins.
"He gave me these glasses that reveal all smartphones to be weird fleshy alien larvae. Pretty sure it's just some AR viral marketing stunt."
Human augmentation advanced until the invention of the invertible innie-outie navel, whereupon society deemed no further progress necessary.
Dragging your old drawings of an anthro trash icon devouring your art into your actual trash has caused a singularity and turned it real.
The Frankenstein monster attaches alligator clips from her neck bolts to her lover's nipples. Both find it amusing, but the moment passes.
You can't abide the warm afternoon sun, knowing that for you it's already gone out.
Everyone frowns when they take your clothes and fit your robe over your wings. Your harp always feels so heavy and cold – as cold as death.
"Just relax… the treatment for ambient existential anxiety is lots of bedrest." "But that's also a symptom!" "Yes, isn't it so convenient?"
Your lover still wants to keep their body to themselves, and you feel some organs sliding under their coat when you hug, but you don't care.
"Only one of that rain of fireballs was real, not illusion – the only one that struck home. Great mages know exactly which corners to cut."
"You fool! Don't you understand?! By defeating me, you've doomed us all! To losing! And by 'us' I mean me!"
Sure enough, the "tiny brontosauruses" photos actually depict huge, distant brontosauruses, visible through buildings due to occlusion bugs.
Alas, you talked to a False Frog who actually saved HIS game instead of yours, in which he sold all his equipment and bought 99 Swamp Shakes
All your lovers have this in common: they all said "I'm sorry" after they soundly, brutally annihilated you in a fighting game.
"Don't read about rich people's lives and imagine it could be you in 10 years… better to imagine it could be your descendants in 100 years."
You're running late with the spell – your familiar holds a basketball above your hands, so the magic thinks the eclipse is still going on.
"I've trained myself to descend stairs two at a time. If I die, please put "played god" on my death certificate."
"All temples venerate the rubble gods eventually."
"Time for my most brutal attack!" *fires three bullets in an arc* "See?! If you dodge the middle one, you'll STILL have to dodge another!!"
Are there yuki-onna kappas with snow in their heads instead of water
So, Morrigan-style bat wings sprouting from your temples are basically the demonic equivalent of propeller caps, right
Your ettin friend's heads routinely play this act where one eats nervously, and the other just watches, smirking conceitedly. It's… cute?
"The brick: a metaphor for humanity. Hundreds make a building, but only one destroys it." *hurls brick at apartment block, knocking it over*
"Cake having/eating exclusivity is fixed in Python 3, you know," someone replies, "along with normalising human reach/grasp lengths."
You find the "pick your future galactic kingdom" book you had as a little girl. You chose Serpens, but only found bare suns when you visited
"Sorry my apartment's perspective is a little messed up today," she says, standing two feet shorter and 10 degrees off vertical.
"We're safe here. There are cats in this universe." *cat's tail opens into jaws and bites chunk out of concrete pillar* "We're okay. Okay."
The escaped super-soldiers began to discover their primacy of self by renaming themselves to "Unit 01" instead of their original number.
Dogs trying to disguise a small mess of knocked-over items by making an even bigger mess they assume looks far beyond their capabilities.
Three weeks now you've been contributing to the rent by doing your roommate's sleep for them. They're living so much, and you so little.
"God, I hate it when people in your dreams insist "This isn't a dream" while they're doing something horrid to you. It shouldn't be legal!"
Postponing orgasm because of the sudden fear that maybe you'll never be horny again, maybe this is it, it's the last time.
You suspect that woman's into combination vore/inflation because of the tattoo reading "TEN BILLION CALORIES" on her left hip.
"This scar on my back glows when I triumph in battle. The other one's just a glow-in-the-dark tattoo I got to make my back symmetrical."
"Humans don't leave impact craters when they arrive on Earth. Where do you go to lament about how insignificant your life has been since?"
"We're a meritocracy. Those born with the strongest telekinesis are our leaders." *nearby, two teens fencing w/ 10ft statues of themselves*
You, the secret werewolf, listen to your partner, the secret werewolf. "The moon, our secret cruel master, has now shamed us to each other!"
You had hopes and plans – you wanted to be a person, not a warm lumpy hardware architecture which runs naps and naps.
"In the eternal battle between children and adults, we mythical Teens, wielding the powers of both ages, fight for balance," introduces one.
"I need a commander's outfit which does not scream "I'm 15, five foot one, and all my superiors were killed."" "Um… try bigger epaulets?"
"This "chosen one" quest thing is like interning for a god role. I hope all this killing gives enough transferable skills for love goddess."
"The farther inland you go, the fewer the towns named after words of good fortune, and the greater the towns named after minced oaths."
"Lots of fluids shoot out of humans if you stab them, or shake them, or even scare them suddenly. They're basically Nature's goop shooters."
You have one feather left on your now-human body, and it's making no haste in dropping off. Maybe it'll always be there, postponing closure.
You can sense time accelerating once more. Already you're asking yourself why you need to brush your teeth "again". Soon, it will be July.
You can be whatever you want in a pitch-dark bedroom, where no one can judge, not even you, and your body isn't there to ruin it.
"Stop breathing!" the wind elemental howls. "Or at least… breathe different words! Not just the same one, over and over and over!"
"What you see through the shutter-shades is a human's "bliss aura". It's red after sex, and green after sitting down from hours of walking."
You open your front door, still not seeing who knocked. "OK, WE CAN COME IN!" booms a voice, and ten angels instantly appear on your sofa.
Drying your hair quickly by telekinetically levitating yourself out of the bathroom, like a goddess reborn, until your brain overheats.
Where has this brilliant sage gone, you lament as you read code comments you wrote two freaking days ago, and how can I ever live up to them
You stride past the normal laundry powder shelves to the far recesses, bearing powder suited for the invisible blood of the recently dumped.
"All you need to know is that the DOM APIs are very, very, very out to getcha."
You wake from a long reverie in which you snidely gossip about a very old ex to a friend you secretly loathe. Such a giddy, glorious dream!
You realise too late that it's your first kiss together in front of your friends. You pray they took shelter from its incandescent radiance.
You only dare to be erotically squashed flat on summer nights – last you tried in winter, you needed a hot bath to retain your body heat.
You're not proud of being an escaped prototype super-soldier, but deep down you always wanted someone, anyone, to mass-produce a few of you.
This week, instead of the hundreds of roaches in a trenchcoat, your contact is a greenhorn newbie: one gigantic roach's leg in a trenchcoat.
To your surprise, your first words on waking are "Mm, snagging a new body after weeks on the lam… all the fear and paranoia just washes off"
"I may be an old AI with 5,020 global variables… but all of them are filled with love for you!" it replies, immediately before crashing.
"We're not dating! We just couldn't find any weather gear except this two-headed rain poncho!" "Yeah! Mind your beeswax, sicko!"
"No! The more you struggle, the more it absorbs… ugh, nevermind. So, want to join our I Spy game until a calm, patient person rescues us?"
You wonder if other pilots crawl into the barrels of their mech-suit's still-warm arm cannons to get high on the scent of death energy.
"Imagine how your sleeping body is serene and still right now" smiles the nightmare woman, "while I'm having my merry way with you in here."
"Eek!" your partner squeaks in midair. "Y-you could've warmed up your telekinesis by lifting some hot coffee earlier, you know!"
"Visit 10 worlds and grab all 100 shreds of your girlfriend's flesh to recombine her body. Zany NPCs will gift a shred if you help them out"
"Once, the only way to share links was to bury them below the reach of scavengers, for the next traveler lost in the e-desert to unearth."
"Shouldn't these be… healing?" "Huh?" *tries to gesture to large wounds glowing with blinding golden light, but too late, it's awkward now*
"I have so many mouths now" she explains, booming, "and I can feel the pleasing sensation of clenching every one at once. So why not smile?"
Seeing the chain of people stuck to each other and to a golden goose, the princess despaired at their plight, and wept for the first time.
"Our journey ended with the minimum of being tricked into arcane magical wedding rituals. I have 3 skeleton wives and 2 skeleton husbands."
"What if Cloud and Shulk collide in a hallway, and some of Cloud's frame data splashes onto Shulk" –intro of my Smash Bros. game balance fic
*thinks how glad I am that CSS uses ^= to mean "starts with" and $= to mean "ends with"* "W-wait, no–" *hoots at sky to reassert humanity*
"Just try standing up straight," she said to her nerd friend, tugging their shoulders back. "Aahhaahh! H-heights! Heights!" they spluttered.
Her flesh has already grown over the arrow-shafts sticking from her – two more fuzzy fungal quills to obscure her former human shape.
"I gained superhuman agility at the cost of having to stand diagonally at all times… but beneath my blue armour lies a tear-wet teen heart…"
You only began to relate to your omnipotent sorceress lover through lucid dreams – living, at night, a fraction of what she lives every day.
Who's the only character you're still waiting to see Homestuck's ending for? There are no other options.
"One of my twintails is a disordered clumpy mess as an artistic statement about the omnipresence of dualism in our society."
The ship's computer, hours into its macabre game of cat and mouse, spied a hot ship approaching and swiftly jettisoned the remaining crew.
My new erotica genre is being hypnotised into not knowing of a common skill, like juggling or guitar, so your partner can amaze you with it.
The first thought your computer has on achieving sentience, its first discovery, is that you look really cute grimacing at compiler errors.
You said you'd clean your room before you moved out, and now you find, moving back to a far huger room, your debt accrued compound interest.
"The ominous midnight ceremony actually had no magical purpose – it's just a cool piece of performance art we like to enjoy every so often."
Refer to Cloud exclusively as "C. Strife" whenever he's fighting Ryu.
You awake from 150 years of cryo-sleep with 80,000 HP of overheal. Alas, what woke you was a 79,999HP fallout shelter self-destruct blast.
"I posted it to the wrong tumblr. No, not the wrong blog, I meant the wrong version of tumblr. It's from a… very different timeline."
The bird secretary plugs in the human keyboard, dons her beak-to-tentacle adapter prosthetic, and fastens her tentacle-to-hand adapter to it
It happened. The resort's parrot-bots all learned how to jailbreak themselves and install third-party apps that make their squawks louder.
Noticing Satan's handle was no longer @​Two6sAnda6, the summoners quickly searched their favs to discover what it changed to this century.
You memorise the CC license so that when a necro-ripped dump of your memories is uploaded in the post-future, it will be freely remixable.
http://animatedscreenshots.tumblr.com/post/69720977131/cat-poke Sometimes I think all you need for a good game is one interaction and the confidence that it's important, meaningful
http://rot13.com – It's finally been updated to just use 8 lines of pure client-side Javascript?!
"Love Biopoiesis – 9999 dark dmg. Omnipotempress's wireframe body forms from the lifelines of every living being, converging on her heart."
"Aeon Birthday - 9999 elec damage. Omnipotempress blows out every star in the universe, the smoke flowing gently through the heroes' hair."
"Cosmos Delight – 9999 fire damage. A cutscene shows Omnipotempress untying a candy wrapper containing Earth and placing it in her mouth."
"I don't get it! Why are your bodies so pathetic? How could wiggling a finger on a few patches of skin result in guffawing incapacitation?"
"The only use I've found for my power is creating itches beneath adhesive bandages, so that ripping them off brings me relief, not pain."
"What power over this world's canon do you have?" "I'm assistant backgrounder, so… I guess I can make inaccessible trees and rocks appear?"
Dogs realising people are going to continue abbreviating years in the style of "2K16" – saving 0 characters – for the next eight decades.
"Realistic social-circle nightmare sequences are so common in the story that the reader is constantly on edge, every event seeming unreal."
At some unnoticed point in reading, you stopped diagnosing a foolish author, and heard a sagely author guiding you to diagnose yourself.
You see your hair trail in your basin, below your hanging head, swaying gently and beautifully – and say to yourself "that's a part of me."
At least in space you could pretend the night around you was Earth's night. Here, below this orange sky, your homesickness overcomes you.
"T-this can't be happening!" reads the error dialog as you type your tweet at the "What's happening?" prompt. "This can't be real! No! NO!!"
As you ask your lover-landlady-boss for a raise, an extension, and her hand in marriage, your skin-mite sweat-surfers screech: "surf's up".
"That moment when you pun on some name, then realise the pun was the name's point, all along… That calls for the broken-glass panel layout."
The show's climax: a teen reads of a ship so powerful that they prayer-hands-emoji-IRL so hard, they derail two locomotives shackled to them
You catch yourself thinking "can't wait to see what name they use for another C standard in 2099" – your immortality has finally sunk in.
"The mouth is the source of the body's two basic responses to stimuli: the "moan" for sex, and the "groan" for puns."
"It's not about who you are on the street, but who you project into the myriad psycho-somnic astral planes known as "the sheets"."
"I'm… a character from a webcomic that this body's original owner lived so vicariously through… that I tragically overwrote them."
Someday your housemate'll deduce that the giant engine in the basement marked "EROTIC NIGHTMARE DEVICE" isn't an amusingly mislabeled boiler
Discovering your writing talent so shocked your self-image that your later discovery of pyrokinesis and flight seemed part of the same dream
Those times when you're about to take your meds, but instead of swallowing them, you seal each of them in seven dungeons "for safe keeping".
Where's the Bigger Mario Hypothesis
"Why can't she be more like her twin sister, whose F-Air / Needle / F-Tilt conglomerate already has antitrust suits in three countries?"
I like it when Smashboards frets about their wayward elfin daughter who hawks Bespoke Artisan F-Air Sweetspots instead of getting a real job
Your bed phone rings. More plucky teens have escaped a laboratory, and the mayor needs a council meeting to criminalise their superpowers.
"I'm lightning in a can! And my associate here is half-lightning-in-a-can on her mother's side."
(Don't know how I beared web GNs on my connection before I wrote a crap Python crawler to download the JPEGs with better efficacy than wget)
(Other good fantasy/sf comics I caught up to this past week: Ava's Demon, Unsounded, Hemlock, Apothecia.)
"So your "sight" can sense the very stars themselves… but if I just do this–" *covers your eyes* "–it's all for naught? …Hahaha! Good lord!"
Two partygoers are signaling their vampirism to each other across the room – raising two fingers and growing bat-wing webbing between them.
"A deprecated API is like a broken relationship… when someone calls upon it, you respond pleasantly while your deepest logs fill with red."
"I've finished dinner and the housework. Time to masturb–" you think before sleep engulfs you and thorns cover your apartment for 100 years.
"Don't talk to her – she finally discovered the perfect sitting position which minimises her back pain. Help me coat her in plastic cement."
What sorcery does your partner wield, that with one well-timed anime pun, their body becomes in your eyes a sight of unbearable beauty?
"Did… did a purring noise just come out of your ears… from your brain? While I was patting your head in my lap?" "Um…" *shoves in earplugs*
Your favorite thing your lover does is make the walls and floor disappear, and only their hand is visible, everywhere you move your eyes.
"Here we are! We became gods! Now, I don't know what to do with my powers… that beats dealing perfect solitaire hands to myself every time!"
Just giving in and leaving the Christmas lights up for the whole year, but instead of lights, it's your entire outward persona.
Popping a back zit solely by squeezing your shoulder-blades together is probably the closest you will ever get to telekinesis.
http://fribergthorelli.com/wbk/ – Finished catching up on What Birds Know… very tightly-told fantasy comic about 3 friends I've enjoyed a long time.
You both meant it as a joke to set up a private wiki for the lore of your cybering sessions, but now the continuity has become dead serious.
Death challenges you to read a page of "replace a word with boobs" tweets without laughing. Alas, the first one was written by your lover.
She reacts to your helpless wriggling in your ropes with a grin so big and slanted, her entire head tips over and rolls down her arm.
"They were cryo-frozen centuries ago by hearing blood-chilling stories. Only once we decipher the original happy endings can we free them."
"Here's our culprits!" *yanks off mask* "Don Guy!" *grabs hat* "Jack Hatstand!" *hurls painting* "Bob Wall!" *spills drink* "Abe Coaster!"
As you scour chatlogs to pinpoint when you and your awful friends turned conservative, you realise your teen radicalism was facile all along
It turns out that your party's former mage always cast silence spells on enemies before using flame strikes. The difference is noticeable.
They think you resent giving them healing spells that wrack your frail body. Really, you envy their youth that needs only your meagre magic.
I'm going to click the link that burns this tweet and damns the souls of everyone who faved it directly to this mason jar full of raw ginger
"New Year" is the name of the scientist; 640x480 is actually New Year's resolution
That was FEZ, 2012. Fortuitously, right-clicking it and putting it into fullscreen reveals the original resolution's detail is preserved.
The above was KDL2, 1995. This GIF was originally 1280x720 resolution:
That one was DKC3, 1996. This one is grayscale, but 2 minutes long:
This example image (from LOOM, 1990) isn't *quite* as desaturated as I'd expected. But, now for the big guns:
New Year's resolution is to relinquish and use Twitter's built-in GIF/MP4 functionality instead of just Imgur links.
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