william gibson wrote an article on how cyberpunk 2077 isn't actually cyberpunk you know
babe im like 90% gibson actually hates pondsmith’s version of cyberpunk (who also oversaw the game based on his tabletop and okay’d like every single thing) because guess what people hate the way other people interpret things, esp concepts they like themselves, and are invested in, and wrote for. throw a bunch of dragon age fans together. someone will die. “father of cyberpunk” yeah okay old man who rts NYT and gwb speechwriter on twitter. thats not very cash cyberpunk money of you. his dislike of cp77 really isn’t the nail in the coffin you think it is lmao
' Is your dad a terrorist? Cause you’re the bomb. ' ( I am cringing. a lot. )
“no, my father is more of a business crook driven by greed and unhealthy high regard for oneself -- wait, what bomb? there’s a bomb? WHERE?” // @landstrue
My hands immediately flew over my mouth in an attempt to stop myself, but they were too slow; the words had already been said. Why did that slip out? Why did I say that?! I don’t need to waste time explaining why I said that!
“Once this is all over, you’ll finally step out of your brother’s shadow and be recognized as a true hero.”
It was a harmless comment, probably meant to lift my spirits, but all I did was tear them down even more. It felt pitiful to feel like this, yet alone be speaking those woes. I thought I was past that, but with this? There’s no way I am. I can’t go back to being afraid of looking superiors in the eyes.
...But the professor didn’t look at me with the pity I’d expected from him. Instead, he lowered his chair down to my level in silence. “Sonny...” He seemed more confused than anything else, his voice down to a hush. He actually sounded like a parental figure. “Of course you can be. You already are one. You’re the bravest ghostbuster I know! No one can do what you do!” You literally just said I was the only ghostbuster you knew. “You’re the best there is!”
He gently laid a hand on my shoulder. It was...clammy. Clammy and very cold. I didn’t shake it off, though. “I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t trust you to help me with this. That says something, doesn’t it?” He gave me the goofiest smile. There was something about the timing of it that actually made it feel genuine. “You have a good head on your shoulders, Luigi. Even after all these years, you still have a knack for this line of work.” And, with a couple shoulder pats, he let out a big, loud chuckle as he spun his chair around and back to its previous height. “It suits you! It really does! I couldn’t have asked for anyone better!”
I wanted to tell him otherwise. I had to. The Luigi he knew wasn’t the Luigi that he brought here. The Luigi that he knew hasn’t been around for six years now. And, as much as I hate to admit it, the whole thing was a mystery in itself. Will Luigi ever return? Will the hero ever be able to shine on his own?
my dad was honestly thinking of getting me tickets to go see hamilton in chicago in october for my birthday and he takes one look at the prices and is like ‘lol nope’
