𐏁𐎢𐎾𐎵! My name is Paleosaur! I have an interest in languages and ancient history. I like to talk about strategy games from a story perspective and looking at games as a form of storytelling and player-made artistic expression. Expect yapping and faux-essays on strategy, survival, and simulation games.
doES ANYONE ELSE REALIZE THAT WE’RE LIKE, THE FIRST GENERATION ON TUMBLR
GIVE IT 10-15 YEARS AND WE’LL ALL BE GROWN UP AND AN ENTIRE NEW SET OF KIDS WILL BE ON HERE BLOGGING ABOUT COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SHOWS AND BANDS AND MOVIES AND BOOKS
THE ONLY THING THEY’LL STILL BE BLOGGING ABOUT THE SAME AS WE WERE IS DOCTOR WHO
Been playing with the Age of Empires 2 scenario editor and spent the entire morning trying to get scripted NPC armies to move and make formations, I think I got it figured out but it took me over four hours of frustratingly finagling with the system so it’s not just one little fuck trying to give the ol’ “one-man-army” strategy; like, fuckin’ love the gumption pal but y’ain’t Achilles; if anything, you are Myrmidon#69 who got ground pounded by Hector in Book 1.
Scrungaloid, by Erika Chappell, is a tabletop wargame about titular Scrungaloids, fighting each other over scraps, other unimportant reasons, or just hating each other.
If Erika has one fan, it is 11dragonkid, and I have been Scrungled.
If Erika has two fans, it's... Actually, now that I'm counting Erika has a lot of fans.
Suffice to say the names of the Scrungaloid casualty models made me almost crack my skull while laughing, and I am statistically likely to have my decaying bones broken open by a Scrungaloid searching for more ammo.
While I’m waiting for my haircut appointment, I feel like yapping about something I’ve been chewing on recently.
Ever since I can recall, if I had a video game with animals that eat food, make babies, and have different behaviors; I’ll try to design a simulation or illusion of an ecosystem in said game.
It’s fun, sort of, to see how the little guys in my computer jive around and do their thing.
Personally, my best successes were Minecraft, Zoo Tycoon 2, Jurassic World Evolution 2/3, and Spore. Now, at least three of these games are not real ecological systems and instead more “appear” as such.
Minecraft is hard to pin as it requires SOME guidance from the player, but can be done with some elbow grease. You can generally use sheep and wolves but you gotta keep the sheep moving around.
Jurassic World Evolution 3 is neigh-perfect. The animals are pretty interactive and can stabilize if you use the right traits to prevent overhunting from predators. Usually if you have a few herbivore species with general preferred conditions met they’ll get to doing as they do and after the first “natural” generations hatching.
I want to see if I can eventually get Hytale to do this, it’d be cool to have a little ecosystem there.
dropped an embroidery needle on my floor in the dark and couldn't recover it so hopefully a bug is about to use it as a sword and go on some adventures and shit
The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin. They both looked down at the crumpled shape of the Overlord, His Unholy Majesty, in his obsidian armor.
His final spasms had been mesmerizingly acrobatic. The fall down the steps leading up to his iron throne had pretzelled his body quite impressively, both arms folded behind his back and one leg bent at a jaunty angle.
The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.
"Shit," said the goblin.
"Shit," said the orc.
"We're likely to get blamed for this," the goblin said. She walked over to the head of the glittering mangled heap and started pulling the helmet off.
"It's not our fault," the orc said. "It's hard to help someone choking when they wear two-hundred pounds of spiked armor at all times."
"Yeah, well," the goblin grunted. The helmet came free, and the bald head of the Overlord bounced on the stone with a hollow, coconut noise. "You know how it is in this bloody country - thieves get their heads cut off so they can't think about thieving, and all that." She fished in the Overlord's mouth with a finger and pulled out the obstructing olive on the end of her claw.
She popped it into her mouth and chewed. "What do you reckon they do for a regicide?" she said.
"We should run," the orc said. She had started bouncing her leg. "I hear that there's some places in the Alliance where they just kill you and let you stay dead. That's got to be nicer than what'll happen if we stay here."
The goblin started to nod - and then her gaze fell on the helmet.
It looked like a pineapple designed by a deranged blacksmith. It was all thorns and spikes and hard edges, as though the maker had been very determined to not let pigeons roost on it. The only bits that weren't solid iron were eyeholes. Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face.
She held up the helmet and squinted from it to the orc. One of the thorns had been bent badly in the fall.
Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face...
"Right," she muttered. "Right. Could work - or."
The orc had a sudden vision of the immediate future. "No," she said.
"I mean you're about his height-"
"No."
"It would just be for a-"
"Absolutely not."
"Just hear me out," the goblin said. "Outside of this room are two-thousand men and orcs and goblins who are absolutely gonzo about this man, and there's a whole country of them outside of the castle, and at any moment someone's going to walk in that door and see one dead tit in black armor and two unbelievably dead idiots next to him.
"Or." She tossed the helmet up like a basketball to the orc, who fumbled and tried to find somewhere to hold it that wasn't a knife's edge. "We chuck him out the window now, walk out the door in the armor, and ditch the armor as soon as nobody sees us."
The orc had started bouncing her leg again. "They'll know something's up the second I walk out of the room."
"No worries," said the goblin. "Leave that to me."
---
It had been a very strange year for the Empire.
Change had rolled across the land as slow and inevitable as a glacier. Roads and bridges carved the gray, blasted wildlands, and a number of social reforms had made the country a place where you could be miserable, yes, but miserable in comfort and safety, and that was an improvement.
Barely anyone got boiled alive in molten metal, and even if the disgusted sun never rose to light the Empire, at least you had a roof over your head to protect yourself from the acid rain.
"Your empire flourishes, Your Unholy Majesty," the magician said over her wine glass. She looked down from the tower's balcony over the gleaming stone battlements. Some work had been done to line the castle and surrounding city with sizzling, crackling alchemical lights at night. The whole thing glowed like something dangerously radioactive.
The suit of armor waved a languid, glittering gauntlet over to the goblin, who bowed.
"His Abominable Gloriousness Thanks You," the goblin recited. "The Prosperity Of His Empire Can Only Be Achieved Through The Prosperity Of His People."
"If I may be so bold, I am quite pleased that you had chosen to take my counsel under consideration," said the magician. "We have accomplished many things together."
Another wave. Another bow. "The Overlord, May His Presence Swallow The Sun And Stars, Thanks You As Well."
"It was quite gratifying to see you change your mind, after so many centuries of denial." The wine was swirled. "Tell me, what was it that finally gave you cause to listen to me?"
There was the slightest hesitation. The goblin's eyes flicked to the armor, then to the magician. She puffed out her chest. "Do you question the wisdom of His Austere Lugubriousness?" she asked.
The magician looked at the goblin. She looked at the armor. She tipped her head back and drank the wine too quickly.
She looked back at the armor. "I know you're the orc, you moron," she said.
The room went deathly still. An alchemical light fizzled.
The orc pulled off the helmet, sending long, untied hair down tangling, and said: "How could you possibly-"
"Because you're both idiots!" the magician said. The goblin jumped. The orc jumped with a noise like a dropped stove. "What kind of a plan was this?! If it wasn't for me, you would have been turned into fertilizer months ago."
She closed her eyes. She took a long, dramatic breath. She set the wine glass down on the balcony rail.
"How did the Overlord die?" she asked when she seemed like she had gotten a hold over herself.
"Choked on an olive," said the goblin.
"Threw his body out the window," said the orc.
"You don't have to mention the window," said the goblin.
"Right," said the orc. "Sorry."
The magician looked out over the city, hand curled thoughtfully under her nose. "Who knows about this?"
"Just us. And, uh. You. Apparently."
"And why did you accept my counsel?"
The orc blinked. "Sorry?"
"Why did you accept my counsel?" the magician repeated.
"Well," the orc said. "Well - you seemed like you had good ideas-"
"Great ideas!" the goblin said with an edge of desperation. "Don't know why the old bastard didn't listen to you!"
"Right - right," said the orc. "And when we figured we were stuck doing this - well, it just made sense, really."
The magician seemed to absorb this. She nodded. "All right," she said, striding between the two and grabbing the crystal decanter.
"Um," said the orc. "Sorry. What happens now?"
"What happens is that you two will continue to serve as Overlord," said the magician. "You will continue to take my counsel. We will continue to reform this bloody country, and gods willing, we will turn it into the crown jewel of the world by next Midwinter."
The orc looked at the goblin. The goblin looked at the orc.
"Really?" the goblin asked.
"Oh yes," said the magician. "I've worked hard to be counsel to the Overlord, and I have no reason to stop now. And besides-"
She looked the orc up and down with a deliberate slowness, poring over every microscopic detail, eyes tracing over every jagged line, and grinned like a panther.
"You look much better in the armor than he ever did," she said. Dark robes swirled like a becleavaged thundercloud, and she strode out through the high iron doors, decanter in hand.
The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.
She seized divine Mot,
With a sword she split him,
With a sieve she winnowed him,
With fire she burnt him,
With mill-stones she ground him,
In a field she scattered him;
His flesh indeed the birds ate,
His limbs indeed the sparrows consumed.
Flesh cried out to flesh!
i will spell color as colour and use degrees celcius. i would watch Sherlock on BBC all night while drinking a cuppa tea with my flatmates. i’ll have fish and chips every day that’s worth 5 quid. i would go to gaff parties every night. i am also more likely to meet chavs, One Direction, Ed Sheeran and the Queen.
i want to spell color as tiriptum and use minas of silver. i would read the Epic of Gilgamesh on Clay Tablet all night while drinking palm wine with my priesthood. i'll have pistachio mersu every day worth trifling minas of silver. i would go to ziggurat parties every night. i am also more likely to meet Sargon, Hammurabi, Ashurbanipal, and Gilgamesh (they're the Mesopotamians).
classicists will make the ugliest least functional website in the history of html and it will contain the entire library of fragmentary papyri of the works of aeschylus. for free
yousharknotpass
izzy806
ellievsbear
areudirty
snowghoul
gracieabrams
