Mar 25, 2014
Children outside playing and yelling "Look out! No, behind you!" and my mind instantly goes to zombies.
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Children outside playing and yelling "Look out! No, behind you!" and my mind instantly goes to zombies.
pirouette-off-the-fucking-handle replied to your post: pirouette-off-the-fucking-handle replied to your...
that’s weird because even my shitty 4 yr old computer can play some games hmm. try uninstalling steam, delete all traces of it, then restart your computer, go to steam and redownload the installer completely.
Done that. My other games were simple to fix, I needed to run it this way, or I needed this program to make it run. It's just this game and I'm not the on;y one it's doing it too ;n; FUCKING BIOSHOCK!!!
I'll figure something out.
jez's awesome writing made me wanna drabble....
So, Sufferer drabble-y thing: Revolution is an angry art. It’s all swinging blades, blood on your digits, colors all around you, and none of that ignorant glory you were taught about. And you? You are the catalyst of it all. The cause, the effect, the god damn willing martyr. You used to preach of peace, of non-violence, of a diplomatic revolution. Of a day when you and the Empress would willingly stand together and spread the vision of something close to equality across the Empire. Yeah, right. Over her dead, cold, fishy body. Rebellion. The very word carries the weight of a thousand souls demanding action. A thousand who failed, but valiantly. Those who have already passed as a part of your actions can be heard among them, if one listens close enough. And so, you fate is sealed, ironically enough, by the very deaths you deemed to prevent. You fight. And so does your ragtag family of what used to be misadventurers. Not today, no, they’ve been just as harden as you through this conflict. A while ago, you might’ve blamed yourself for all of this, but today you stand, convicted of your own truth. You swing your well-damned sickles high, truth. To your right, the sleek hiss of claws, truth. Your left, the drone of a chainsaw, truth. Further back, so that your family isn’t harmed in the destruction that’s sure to follow, the crackle and shudder of planet-moving bolts of red and blue, your Psiioniic, truth. Truth, it is your life. And it may well be your death.