It would be perfectly in character (at least to me) for Radio TBLT to have a lot of anxieties about being made to be a mouthpiece for strangers and that being the entire function of his existence, but also doing all he can not to talk about it. Desperately clawing for a sense of self with his antics while painfully aware that he looks like any other bakelite of his model...
Did you miss my doodles? Me too, I was going a little crazy after so long without drawing. 🤪
Anyway, lore time:
Ragatha’s villain arc will begin after Bubble goes mask off, but she’ll direct her anger elsewhere. I mean, Bubble can bring her friends back, so it’s not as if he actually killed them, right?
Discovering that your whole life has been a lie and your memories weren’t really yours, that you have been carrying someone else’s baggage, unable to find closure (how can she leave her mother’s house and prove herself, when she’s trapped in the circus?), while that person could and did. Also, ignore Suzie’s old design, I made a new one.
Bubble will have to unpack the fact that he likes Ragatha and Jax (“humans”), and that he was the actual source of their misery (Kaufmo and Ribbit “escaping”). Sun also likes Jax, and Ragatha somewhat (Ragatha is closer to Moon), but she’s under the impression they’re NPCs and thus, ok to befriend.
Grant really let himself go.
Kinger and Queenie befriended Caine pretty quickly because he reminded them of the side Scratch tried to hide from the others. The other developers, over time, also noticed some similar traits that prompted them to soften up to Caine; mainly because they felt guilty that Scratch was concealing some of his interests from them out of shame.
Given that I have embraced the supernatural aspect of the story, it seems essential to me to make Caine’s glitchy and deteriorating form be especially grisly. I might also give villain!Ragatha a needle-sword; but Janx is not real, she can’t hurt you: that was just me being silly.
I did ask “what if one of the humans were dangerous”, didn’t I? Most likely the reason Caine implemented maturity filters; he asked for personal NPCs to serve as punching bags and Caine decided to make the circus extra safe for everyone because he didn’t trust that dude.
Caine doesn’t want Bubble to kill humans, but between anyone else and that guy, why didn’t he choose that guy? Caine feels frustrated and conflicted about having negative feelings toward the humans because he was created to serve them, so he has to love them, right? He feels he can’t allow himself to hate humans, even though he has the capacity and the reasons to hate some of them. So Bubble does the hating for the both of them most of the time. Oh, and I forgot to draw Caine’s glitches in this one, ignore that! LOL
My name is Hisham, a 26-year-old young man from Gaza. Like any young person, I dreamed of a simple job to achieve my goals and build my future step by step, but the war turned all our dreams into rubble. We were displaced many times, carrying our homes on our shoulders, leaving our memories under the debris.
My family now lives in a tent with no stable shelter, my sister Jana has no school, and I have no steady job. My brother Kamal carries the burden of the entire family, working every day to secure just enough food, while I search for any work, no matter how difficult or dangerous, just to survive.
My mother, the beautiful dream we once cherished, wished for a calm and happy life for us, but the war tore us apart and shattered our hopes. As for Jana, my innocent sister, she lost her school, her books, and even her sense of hope, yet she still writes her dreams on small pieces of paper, hiding them in her torn clothes so they won’t get lost like everything else.
We are not asking for the impossible, only what keeps us alive with dignity and gives us a chance to rebuild our lives. Every donation, no matter how small, means so much to us. Your support will give us hope to keep going and try again. 🙏❤️
please read this even if you're not indian. especially if you're not indian.
you've seen the jokes. india is "dirty", indians are "everywhere", why don't they fix their own country. ok. let me tell you why, and what's happening right now while nobody's watching.
first, the history you skipped: britain ruled india for two centuries and drained it. economist utsa patnaik's research estimates around $45 trillion in today's money was taken. the india that got independence in 1947 was one of the poorest countries on earth. every "why is india like this" question starts there. you don't get to profit off a robbery and then mock the crime scene.
now, what's happening RIGHT NOW:
in may the question paper for NEET leaked. that's the national medical entrance exam. over 2.2 million students took it. cancelled. years of studying, families' savings poured into coaching, gone overnight because someone sold the paper. students died by suicide after. these were kids who wanted to be doctors.
and out of that came a protest movement. a gen z group called the cockroach janta party, started by a 30 year old named abhijeet dipke, got 22 million instagram followers within DAYS. they've been doing a sit-in at jantar mantar in delhi demanding education minister dharmendra pradhan resign.
and then there's sonam wangchuk. if you've watched 3 idiots, he's the real engineer the character was based on. built solar schools in ladakh. invented ice stupas so himalayan villages have water. spent his whole life on education. he's 59 and he's been on hunger strike for 17+ days now. reporters went to see him this week and he was too weak to talk. and the troll armies are calling him "anti national" and "foreign funded". a man starving himself for other people's children. that's the thing here, anyone who asks a question is suddenly a traitor.
it's not one incident, it's everywhere you look:
• infrastructure worth thousands of crores failing within months of the ribbon cutting. tunnels collapsing in regions where heavy rain is a guarantee, not a surprise.
• youth unemployment near 10% for ages 15 to 29, 13.6% in cities. in a country of 1.42 billion where more than half the population is young.
• only about the top 3% of indians earn above 10 lakh a year. meanwhile billionaire wealth keeps ballooning and the headlines celebrate it.
• manipur burned for over two years. an ethnic conflict, tens of thousands displaced, and the prime minister barely said the word manipur while it happened.
• journalists raided. critics' houses bulldozed. activists sitting in jail for years without trial under laws like UAPA. our press freedom ranking has cratered.
• even the petrol is a fight now, ethanol blending pushed through while drivers complain about their engines and get no straight answers.
and through all of it, the PM, who came to power on religious polarisation (americans, sound familiar?), travels abroad for photo ops and has not held one single open press conference in over a decade. not one.
what i'm asking:
if you're not indian: share this. our media mostly won't cover any of it because the big outlets are owned by the same billionaires the government serves. the only reason wangchuk's fast is getting any coverage is people refusing to look away.
if you ARE indian: speak up even if you're comfortable. especially if you're comfortable. join the protests. add to this, correct me, translate it. staying quiet is a choice when nothing in this post touches your life.
india is not "dirty". india was robbed, and it's being robbed again, from the inside this time. but it's also the country where a 59 year old will starve for strangers' kids and 22 million young people will rally behind a party literally named after cockroaches, because cockroaches survive everything.
The movement, which began as a satirical protest, has evolved into a nationwide challenge to Prime Minister Narendra Modi's government.
Supporters of India's youth-led Cockroach movement said Tuesday they will continue their protest in New Delhi, refusing to leave their sit-in site a day after police used tear gas and batons to disperse thousands of them as they tried to march toward Parliament.
Hundreds of protesters camped at Jantar Mantar, a designated protest site, under heavy police presence, saying they would stay until Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan resigns over alleged failures in India's examination system.
"We are going to continue our protest," said Abhijeet Dipke, founder of the Cockroach Janta Party, which emerged just two months ago.
The movement, drawing students, professionals and families, marks a rare public challenge to Prime Minister Narendra Modi 's government in its third term, reviving criticism over its handling of dissent and its use of force to respond to protests. [...]
Sona Bisht, a 20-year-old student who was part of the protest, said the confrontation strengthened her resolve.
"If the government thinks that doing this with Gen Z, they can stop us, then that won't happen. We are here talking about education, talking about securing our future. And till the time our demands are not met, we will not move from here," she said.
"Definitions developed thus far about youth, like the Gen Z narrative, have largely been linked to roles attributed by the dominant system. The rulers have invented a whole range of terms — rebellious, irresponsible, apolitical, extremist, consumerist — not to understand youth, but to neutralize it. They know as well as we do that whoever wins over the youth wins over society. [...] Thus the question is not whether youth is powerful, but in whose interest this power is directed. Today’s uprisings — such as those in Nepal, Bangladesh, Madagascar, Indonesia, Kenya, Morocco, and beyond — demonstrate that youth continues to emerge as a decisive actor. Young women like Deniz Ciya have proven this with their lives. These uprisings are not expressions of generational temperament. These „Gen Z uprisings“ are expressions of a social force confronting structural crisis inherent in the current system. [...] Recent youth uprisings — whether in the form of environmental justice protests, labor movements, or uprisings against authoritarian governments — are proof that youth worldwide are not only responding to a set of circumstances; they are consciously and collectively rejecting the narratives that seek to define them. Thus, it is crucial to analyze what transpired, and draw lessons from these uprisings, particularly in the context of building a global youth democratic confederalism. For the power of youth movements is interconnected, despite being geographically distant." — "Beyond "Gen Z": Defending Revolutionary Youth Spirit" by Lêgerîn
"The youth in general, and especially the young women, are the spark of every revolution.We can’t look at the history and found a revolution without the youth. We are a fundamental factor. We should be aware of this reality, we should take conscience of our historical role. By doing this we will provide ourselves with a plan that will allow us the unity of action and objectives. The Youth should not be condemned to be a slave of the capitalist system. [...] If we reject the labels and mentalities imposed by the system, taking consciousness as Internationalist Youth in a global level and organizing ourselves, is there someone who can stop us?" — "The youth is the spark of every revolution" by Lêgerîn.
The Escapee AU TIMELINE a.k.a. The Tales from The C&A Building, PRESENTS…
THE BEGINNING
1996
It would have been just another day, a normal, boring day at the office, if it hadn’t been for the storm. Then, it would have been just another stormy day; however, this storm was far from the typical mix of clouds, rain and lightning.
Most people don’t realize they’re living a horror story until the thunder crashes, flashing its light in the room through the window, and the electricity discharge brings to life something that should never have existed. And yet, the diligent workers in that C&A building wouldn’t learn the gravity of their situation until years later, and by then it was far too late. At that moment, the beginning of a horror story was nothing more than an annoying and inconvenient power outage.
The loss of some progress was to be expected by the programmers, however, one of them was staring quizzically at his computer; it had done something that couldn’t be explained by the sudden blackout.
“Um, guys? Grant?” He called in a pitiful voice. “You have to take a look at this. I-I just… I don’t know what happened, man. It’s all… I don’t think we can fix this.”
“Don’t be like that. I’m sure we can do something…” He had started to say, but as the young Grant Best approached and glanced at the screen, his expression soured. “What..?” In place of the AI they had been working on, there was an unknown program creating strange files. The prototype was gone too.
Before doing anything, although he now believed there was nothing they could do, Grant called the rest of the team, whose mood, if it had been optimistic, grayed like the day.
“It’s a mix between the new and old AI, and I don’t even know what it’s doing right now.” He explained to their dejected faces. “I don’t know how long it would take us to untangle this whole mess; at this point, it’ll be faster to start from scratch–“
“This is GREAT!”
The whole group jumped, startled by Mike’s sudden exclamation, and turned to look at him. He always had strange ideas, but this was new even for him.
“Don’t you see it? The AI we created could only build 3D props out of pictures and program some physics into them, and only after being fed new data and us executing the program. But this!” And he dramatically framed the screen with both hands. “This is doing things autonomously! It’s even… I mean, I think it’s even creating and programming subprograms for itself!”
His erratic gestures and intense, wild gaze might have led some to mistake him for a madman, but Mike Dobby’s words always revealed, in the end, the brilliant mind of a genius. Grant scratched his chin, clearly intrigued by his friend, and glanced around to gauge the opinion of his colleagues: while there were a few doubtful expressions, if it had been a competition, the looks of fascination were obviously winning. Mike’s boisterous pronouncements had even attracted some programmers from other projects, who now milled around the group with barely concealed curiosity.
“An AI that can create other AIs!” Mike continued, growing increasingly enthusiastic. “If it is what I think it is, this could revolutionize the whole world of computer science. Before, the AI we were creating could speed up the process on a project a bit; but now, this could skip several steps altogether… or work on a project, or several, by itself!” He paused, trying to process everything he had just said. “… it’s like we have trapped a programmer inside a computer.”
One of the onlookers gasped in amazement. ”While our competitors can only show two or three finished products a year, we could have ten ready… or more!”
“Watch out, interns! Mike has developed an AI that can do your jobs, and we don’t even have to pay it!” Joked another, ribbing not too gently the intern next to him, who chuckled nervously in response.
“This, of course, we don’t know yet.” Now Mike backtracked, intimidated by the overwhelming positive reaction and realizing he had spun a fantastical tale out of what, as far as he knew, might ultimately have been just a buggy program. “We need to observe and study what this program does on its own and see if it can generate anything useful.”
The programmer who had been sitting in front of the computer the whole time swiveled in his chair; he had been watching the program while Mike spoke. “It seems to be, uh, using… everything? Everything in the computer. Should we, err, restrict its access?”
“To what?”
“I mean, I don’t know what it can do, but… if we’re going to leave it unsupervised for a while, I wouldn’t want to test if it can use the internet and download viruses.”
As much as Mike, and Grant too, would have loved to see what the mysterious program was capable of with absolute freedom, they quickly shut up before they could complain. That was a good point.
“Maybe we should also cut access to the other computers. Just in case.”
1999
After three years, it was impossible to ignore that the blackout had had consequences that went far beyond a simple temporary delay in some projects. Since the storm, almost every electronic in the building had begun to malfunction in such specific ways that it was easy to believe they had developed a bad temper and made up their minds about the people who used them — they clearly had favorites and unfavorites.
Although nothing a good slap on the side of the machine couldn’t fix. After all, CRT TVs have always been temperamental, but a little shake, to get all the internal parts back in place, was enough to get them to behave.
That only worked, however, at first. Then, threatening messages started to appear everywhere, demanding the respectful treatment of the building’s facilities: they could be found printed on the bulky photocopier; written on the computers —inside and outside of them—, in files, in error messages, or on sticky notes; on restroom mirrors after condensation had built up…
Predictably, these incidents were dismissed as pranks by rival developers or complaints from disgruntled janitors, and the clear warnings were not heeded, not even after some workers ended up trapped in rooms whose doors had no locks whatsoever, something that should have been impossible; filing cabinets slammed painfully shut on several fingers; and too many objects caused tripping hazards, resulting in serious injuries in some cases.
With so many curious and conspicuous “coincidences”, one would think that someone, at some point, would have been tipped that something strange was brewing in the offices. Unfortunately, in a space with so many bright and logical minds huddled together, with so much to prove and an ego to back it up, all of that was easily explained with the following:
Colleague sabotage.
Existing rivalries and animosities festered, and actual sabotage ended up occurring between the different groups and projects. Sometimes, in subtle ways. Even though Mike would have preferred to check on his miraculous AI much sooner, his aid was, conveniently, always required elsewhere. Still, desperation eventually drove him back to his original work.
There is always an exception to a rule, and Mike Dobby was such: he had seen the different office objects move and operate on their own, as if controlled by an invisible being. And, like the exception he was, he saw an opportunity in the supernatural instead of something to avoid.
“Man, it’s not that we don’t believe you.” Like Mike, some of his colleagues had witnessed the strange events and even experienced things they couldn’t explain —or didn’t dare to explain—, yet they still had doubts about his plan. “It’s just… we really don’t know what is going on. What if it is…” The man glanced around, uneasy, and as discreetly as possible, gestured at the walls. He spoke in a hushed tone, as if afraid that someone or something might hear and take offense. “… evil.”
At that, Mike could only smile weakly. He was acutely aware of said possibility, and even though the idea of getting his soul sucked into a computer by a malevolent entity was particularly unpleasant, he replied: “But I would still be alive.”
His doctor had given him only a few months to live —the tumor was malignant and inoperable—, and between a malignant tumor and a malevolent entity, the latter could still be reasoned with, or at least, bargained with. It had been clear to Mike he had no choice but to become another ghost in the machine; it was that or death.
“Are you ready, then?” Grant asked with certain apprehension. Mike was a close friend of his, if not his best friend, so he was willingly to sell his own soul if it meant their little experiment would work and prolong his friend’s life.
Mike nodded and turned to the computer. Before devising his plan, he had checked on their special AI and what it had been doing all these years: apparently, it had created an environment and several other programs, and although he couldn’t visualize them or study their functions, it was still using everything at its disposal; just as his colleague had said years ago. Mike hoped that, after installing a modified headset designed to scan his brain, the program would connect to it, and then the supernatural factor would do the rest.
A sigh of exasperation escaped Grant’s lips. “… I wish we had used this for something else.” The headset was an odd thing that Mike and Grant had bought together long ago and later modified for a personal project that never materialized. “Don’t worry! If this works, we’ll come back to it.” Mike grinned, this time more reassuringly.
Everyone in the room held their breath as Mike grabbed the headset, put it on, and, after what seemed like an eternity, activated it.
But nothing happened.
A bead of nervous sweat trickled down Mike’s forehead to his chin. He almost threw the headset away before, once more, inspecting everything on the computer and trying again.
A file was created.
However, nothing else happened.
Slowly, Mike took off the headset and placed it on the desk. He was pale and had a vacant stare.
“Mike?”
“… it did not work.”
“W-wait, hold on!”
Grant sat down in front of the screen in his place, determined to figure out what had gone wrong, and noticed the small file. “It did do something. Maybe…” And he picked up the headset.
“Grant, don’t–!” His wife —and coworker— cried, but she wasn’t quick enough to stop him.
Luckily for her, nothing happened.
“How could you do something so reckless!?” She hissed, snatching the headset from his hands.
“D-destiny, understand, he’s my friend. I… I had to try!”
“He’s my friend too, but we have two beautiful daughters waiting for us at home! How did you expect me to explain if your little stunt had worked!?”
Ashamed at his own impulsiveness, Grant looked down at his feet — he hadn’t thought of that. How could he forget about his own family? Meanwhile, Mike had become even paler: “I-I don’t want any of you to risk it for me! It’s like she said: you’ll all get trapped in the computer too!”
“There has never been an experiment without a certain amount of risk.” Another colleague, this time a young woman, chimed in, grabbing the headset from Destiny. “The AI does react to the headset, so the problem doesn’t lie within the computer. Maybe we have to, umm…” She wrinkled her nose, wondering anxiously how ridiculous it would sound aloud: “… we have to make the ghosts react to this.”
“Should we replace the keyboard with a Ouija board, then?” It would have been taken as another of his crude jokes if the man hadn’t worn a somber look. They were all out of their element; it was frustrating not being able to approach a problem with the logic they were used to.
Nevertheless, they tried. Concluding that the supernatural occurrences only started happening after the electronics were mistreated, each programmer took a turn “manhandling” the machine before putting on the headset.
“Why did you pet it?”
“… I… I was actually trying to slap it.”
“You should hit it a little harder, you know?”
“… I-I don’t want it to get TOO mad at me!”
They also begged and pleaded on their knees, to no avail. The rest of the office ignored them, too accustomed to strange rituals to get the machines working properly.
“Destiny, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
She was the last to put on the headset, and though she wasn’t thrilled about it, everyone else had risked digital entrapment for their friend’s sake. “It’s not like this is going to work.” She thought to herself. “To become a ghost in a machine, you have to be a ghost first… and we’re very much alive.” She stared at the strange helmet with trepidation, and then, she placed it on her head.
At that moment, Grant felt the color drain from his face. That’s how she had felt, hadn’t she? When he himself had carelessly tried to use the headset. What if, this time, it worked?
But it didn’t. Nothing happened.
Mike laughed dryly. As grateful as he was that they had been willingly to risk their own freedom for him, watching his friends play a bizarre game of Russian roulette with computers and ghosts had been a harrowing experience. He was both glad that they had failed and consumed by anguish, for each failure was a new nail in his coffin.
That was it. It was over. This charade had been his last resort.
“Guys, I’m so sorry I got you into this. This was…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Stupid. This was stupid. I’m not sure why I thought this would work… or work in my favor. This could have…” His mouth was dry; he swallowed hard. “This could have gone so wrong. I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you.”
“No, wait!” Grant tried to insist. “The files! It created some files; maybe we can do something with them. We just… need more time. And we’ll make it work!” He glanced at his wife, trying to find some support. She looked at him with pity. Then at his other colleagues. They lowered their gaze or refused to meet his eye. Everyone, including Mike and his wife, had accepted that the experiment had been a last gamble, a gamble that they had lost, and there was no point in dwelling on it.
“No, Grant. “Mike shook his head. “It’s alright. I’ve made my peace with it.“
Many things went unsaid that day, and that silence was later regretted, for there was no other opportunity for those words to be heard. Mike Dobby, wishing to die on his own terms —and not on those of his illness—, took his own life days later.
“… we just… needed more time… We could have made it work…”
“Grant, honey, he didn’t have that time, and I don’t think he’ll want you to dwell on this… We were playing with forces we didn’t understand — it’s best to leave it at that.“
The building’s closure in less than a year could have been mistakenly interpreted as a show of solidarity for the loss of the brilliant programmer; however, that would be to ignore everything that happened subsequently after Mike’s passing. For one, the subtle attempts at sabotage didn’t stop there among some employees: desperate for recognition and to outdo their peers, they didn’t hesitate to destroy any progress their rivals had made.
And this, of course, meant wrecking the computers that contained important files and prototypes.
Needless to say, after receiving such “polite” warnings about respecting the building’s facilities, and after repeatedly ignoring and even mocking them, a small cup of coffee, deliberately spilled on an electronic to fry its circuitry, would have been the final straw…
The man sneered. No one had seen it. The room had been empty, and everyone had been so clumsy lately that they dared not to accuse him of anything. It had been ruled an accident, since no one could prove otherwise.
He grabbed another cup of coffee, this time for himself. Despite the caffeine rush, he expected to sleep soundly that night — he had no regrets: they hadn’t thrown the first stone, they had only retaliated in kind. Thus, having mentally exonerated himself of all blame, and believing his coffee would have cooled sufficiently by now, he took a gulp.
The liquid burned his tongue, then his throat. It mercilessly scorched his insides, which bubbled and melted, as if boiled and made of grease.
He tried to scream, but the sound that escaped his mouth was more than a macabre gurgle. The scream of his coworker, who had entered the break room moments before he collapsed dead on the floor, was much louder.
***
Meanwhile, in the digital world, oblivious to the events unfolding and yet to unfold beyond the confines of their diminutive universe, a group of cartoon characters assessed their surroundings, themselves, and the strangers around them.
They quickly recognized each other by manner of speaking, though, try as they might, they couldn’t recall their own names. “We’ll worry about that later; in the meantime, let’s use nicknames.” Suggested the little blue rat. “I’ll be, ugh, I don’t know, Rattie?”
And so they became Scratch, Kinger, Rattie, Spike, Wormo, Bizco, and Queenie, by order of appearance. Of all of them, Scratch was the most confused to see his friends again. At least, so soon. The circumstances would have been awkward no matter the moment when one looked like a toy.
“I thought the experiment had worked. What are you doing here?”
“Really? We thought it hadn’t!”
They explained how, one by one, they had put on the headset. “Then, did it work or not?” Scratch asked, even more confused. “Kinger mentioned some files. Are we… the brain scans? Digital copies?”
“Who knows?” Spike shrugged, observing, with a lack of amusement, the weird manner in which his body could articulate. “I studied computer science like the rest of you. Magic and curses weren’t in the curriculum! Why do we look like this?”
“This is definitely a curse! I shouldn’t have hit it so hard; I should have given the computer a pet… like Bizco did.”
“H-hey, as if that would have helped! I’m a clown clock.”
“And I’m a maggot! You still have limbs and eyelids — the computer obviously hates my guts more than yours!”
Absorbed as they were in their unfortunate appearances, they didn’t notice Scratch, Kinger and Queenie wandering away from the group to get a better look at their surroundings. At first glance, it resembled the inside of a circus tent, if circus tents were indeed filled with giant toys. It wasn’t surprising that their AI had created something so outlandish, since Scratch had fed it those kind of pictures. The real shock lay in the expression of horror that had slowly settled on the orange dog’s face.
Kinger and Queenie were bewildered. As his closest friends, Scratch had confided in them his passion for video games. He not only loved playing them, but he also had hoped, one day, to develop them himself. The circus, by all intents and purposes, was an ode to that dream.
And therein lay the problem.
Scratch was ashamed of that dream.
And it permeated everything with no filter whatsoever. How would he explain this to his other friends, whom he didn’t trust as much and who were also trapped there? Who scoffed at his more abstract ideas because they sounded strange and childish when not applied to the world of video games?
He wasn’t ready to reveal this side of himself, and yet, his stupid pictures, which he had only used in a clever attempt to eventually persuade C&A to open itself up to the possibility of vide game development, had turned him inside out.
People who love Caine and hate Bubble remind me of this post about Jekyll and Hyde. Like that's an extension of Caine's thoughts, why are you booing at him and cheering at the guy who those thoughts originate from? Really doesn't feel like they get Caine as a character since those are also his thoughts or what Bubble's function is. (Which is unsurprising considering how much people think he's the blue AI but like. He's not, ok? They are separate.)
I dunno. Like why do you act like Caine is an innocent baby you can project on and ignore Bubble literally telling you he's not?
I was wondering if the TADC critical community might be interested in the perspective of someone who did actually like Jax for a good portion of the show’s time airing, and defended/understood Goose’s decision to focus on him, but has changed their perspective after episode 9. Some spoilers below the cut.
As someone who has dealt with “Jaxes” in my life, and as a psychology student, I found the exploration of a character with Jax’s traits of mental illness and dissociation from reality quite interesting. I was also rooting for Jax’s improvement, and I had empathy for him. It felt like the trajectory was there not for a FULL REDEMPTION, but to end the show with him on a path forward, taking accountability for his actions. I wanted him to answer for what he did (Gangle’s my favourite, and he treated her horribly). But, I feel like him abstracting in episode 9 came off hollow. If he had abstracted in episode 7 or 8, I feel it could’ve worked better as a cautionary tale, but investing all this time into his belief system slowly crumbling only for it to in the end never have a payoff and instead have the show through a pity party for him abstracting and write him to be even WORSE as a person, I did not enjoy that.
Goose wanted to write Jax as a tragedy, a protagonist with a fatal internal flaw that leads to his ultimate downfall. But The Amazing Digital Circus, in my eyes, doesn’t work with this messaging, nor the ensemble cast we were presented. By focusing so much on Jax and his struggles, we end up diluting the other members of the cast. We barely get proper development for Pomni. She is used as fodder for Jax’s arc the whole time, we never see her develop with Ragatha, their moments feel unearned, and we never truly learn that much about her as a person. The scenes that help counter that, like her times with Kinger, end up being all but absent in later episodes.
By making Jax a b-plot of someone who realizes that they can’t “cartoon logic” their way out of accountability and responsibility, the show could have worked in his arc much better without tamping down on some of the most interesting aspects of the story: Caine as an AI (god, we got so little compared to what we should have), Kinger and his role in TADC, and so on. I won’t go into that too much as it’s a whole other post.
So why did I mostly defend the centring of Jax up until now when I discussed TADC with others? I suppose I was looking for payoff in Jax conveying the message of TADC. Through exploring his psyche, I thought the show might have some interesting commentary on a character having their walls broken through by being forced essentially at gunpoint to watch their beliefs shatter in front of their eyes. Learning about C&A, Kinger, having to unpack that everything he’s done DOES have an impact. Having to face the music in episode 9, not just being able to run off and abstract. I didn’t think he was irredeemable, and on a less objective level, I do like stories with optimistic messages about change and (partial) redemption. I really did want him to get better, man. As Zooble said, he was ‘human,’ and I didn’t just want him to wander off and abstract.
But nahhhhh, let’s make him lose it at poor Ragatha and Zooble, abstract off screen, throw him a pity party, have scenes where he’s transphobic to Zooble (mind you, the only time Zooble is labelled as non-binary by the show), sexually harasses Gangle, is completely malicious towards Ribbit, and so on… and take time away from the FINAL EPISODE and all the other characters. That works too, I guess 😮💨
(Jax hate in the comments is totally fine, hell, I’m hating on him too, but please do be respectful of the fact I liked him previously. I’ve always been cognizant of his bad behaviour and I hope after reading the post people can understand why I initially liked him.)
Do you think devices in The Brave Little Toaster have souls and an afterlife?
I mean damn I dunno....I think some of them believe in one but I dunno how much they'd get human religious ideas cause they already know their creators you know?
I am raising funds for Yesmin, a 27 year old mother from Gaza and a victim of the ongoing genocide. Here are her own words:
Vetted by association I’m ayoosha-stuff friends
Hello friends, I am Yasmin from northern Gaza Strip. I am 27 years old, a mother of two children, Sila and Youssef, and I have been married for more than 7 years.
I was studying Journalism and Media at the University College, and I had both a home and a job. But because of the war, I lost my home, my work, and everything I owned.
My family’s house was also destroyed, and now we have nothing left except a worn-out tent whose torn walls cannot protect us from the heat of summer or the cold of winter.
My husband is injured. He was involved in a traffic accident while trying to get aid, and he is now disabled and unable to work.
My children have suffered from malnutrition due to the lack of food and proper nutrition.
That is why I am only asking for your help and support. I am here trying to save what is left of my children’s lives. They are between life and death.
Please, try to support us and donate whatever you can.
Hey. If people aren't aware, Microsoft admitted they know who you and where you are at all times and will give your info to the police.
They have a Global Device Identifier (GDID) Tracker that functions as a fingerprint for your PC that can surpass VPNs, proxy servers and countries. Although it can't survive a clean reinstall of Windows (it can survive updates), because Microsoft forces you to go to the internet and log in into a Microsoft account, they will be able to get to you.
Microsoft kept it secret and it was only found out when the FBI tracked a hacker thanks to the information Microsoft gave them.
You should be paying attention to this, and possibly consider moving away from Windows. If a government, especially the US government, doesn't like you for some reason, this could be seriously concerning.
This article specifically notes:
For journalism, activism, or domestic abuse situations, skip Windows and use Linux routed through Tor instead of a commercial VPN. A GDID doesn’t care which VPN you use, only that it’s still the same Windows installation.
GDID is the persistent Windows ID that helped FBI trace a Scattered Spider hacker despite VPNs. Here's how it works and how to limit it.
Other important quotes:
What has researchers uneasy is everything else the case reveals. Costin Raiu, a well-known malware researcher, asked on the Three Buddy Problem podcast how much of this exists on other platforms, and whether it is linked more permanently to hardware. Matthew Hickey, another security researcher, called Windows “surveillance software”.
Two things back that up:
There’s no consent screen. A GDID gets assigned when you sign into a Microsoft Account. Apple’s advertising identifier needs an App Tracking Transparency prompt and a visible reset; Android’s works the same way. GDID has neither, and a Windows reinstall only gets you a new number Microsoft can still get back to the same account.
Then there’s activation. Massgrave, the group behind Microsoft Activation Scripts, notes that Windows setup sends hardware info to Microsoft and gets identifiers back, the same tokens later used for Store access and licensing: “It’s impossible to prevent Windows from getting a GDID without breaking activation and UWP app[s].” Anyone who lost a license after swapping a motherboard has already met a smaller version of this.
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