windynova

Sometimes all we have is our dreams / I will sell my soul for something pure and true

[windynova]

Why do we see heaven in art yet live in hell in reality? Why do we keep searching for what we can never find? Why, when thousands share the same feelings, do we remain invisible to each other in reality, still drifting through endless emptiness and misunderstanding?

[windynova]

My Thoughts on the game "Clinical Trial": The Ultimate Mirror for the Utterly Lonely

I just finished Clinical Trial, a visual novel created by indie game developer homie, and to say I am "shattered" would be an understatement. It isn't just a game; it is a mirror—cold, sharp, and terrifyingly honest. Suppressed desires, inescapable loneliness, and the insane lengths people will go to grasp at a shred of warmth. Some see it as a tale of stalking and murder; I saw a tragic, visceral romance about how two broken people can become each other's only salvation.

The game begins as a mundane, almost clinical depiction of survival. We play as "Angel Martinez", a young individual artist drowning in a soul-crushing job, living with roommates who treat them like a ghost, and suspected of having ADHD, participates in an eight-week psychiatric drug trial for a $1,000 reward. Then there is Lee. A stoic, silent, and professional psychiatric nurse who worked in the clinic as a data collector.

With each weekly trial session, the story's layers peel away. From the outset, I was utterly immersed in author 's masterful recreation of gritty realism: the exploitative job, the apathetic roommates, the bureaucratic medical system, and the trauma of being violated by a coworker, Brandon. The game brims with tedious medical forms, obscure jargon, and a precise portrayal of ADHD's "perpetual brain fog". Amidst this oppressive fog, we encounter Adri—a fellow patient whose vibrant energy and dreams of horror movie special effects gave a jarring contrast to Angel’s gray world. While she playfully ribs Lee about his 'RBF' and calls him her 'dealer,' her presence serves as more than just relief; she is the only character who truly glimpses the stifling repression beneath Lee’s professional mask, her talk of 'fake corpses' providing a chilling, unintentional foreshadowing of what is to come.

Through Angel's eyes, I felt the chaos and helplessness of his existence, yet it was in this darkness that the connection with Lee began to pulse with a strange, magnetic energy. When Lee went out of his way to order those specific blue bandages, his devotion was already screaming through his silence, as if these two jagged, broken shards had finally found the only other soul in the world they were meant to fit. His focused discussions about that Fire Shrimp and his meticulous care for the clinic's fish tank made him seem like a kind-hearted soul, just not very articulate. When Angel's life plunged deeper into darkness due to his colleague Brandon's abuse, Lee's presence felt like a faint glimmer of light.

As Week 8 concluded and Act 2 began, Lee extended an invitation impossible to refuse: "Stay at my place tonight." The atmosphere changes from clinical to devotional. Stepping into Lee's home felt like Angel and I had entered a sanctuary. Lee's meticulous care—providing clean clothes, cooking meals, watching documentaries together, "you do bed and i do couch", even awkwardly painting with Angel—was overwhelming. My defense completely crumled when Lee was mumbling about "We could... get a cat." almost inaudible. In that moment, I no longer saw a strange nurse, but a boy who had been alone his entire life, finally mustering the courage to dream of a home. I actually began to believe this man might truly save Angel.

The game’s portrayal of Lee’s repression is masterfully subtle as well. In one optional scene, when Angel jokingly invites him to share a bath, this man—of such imposing physical stature—stutters in a fit of clumsy, almost endearing propriety, muttering about how it would be “premarital”. He couldn't bring himself to cast a single glance at Angel the entire time. It was as if looking directly at his ‘Angel’ would be a sacrilege he wasn’t yet holy enough to commit. At this stage, Lee appears to be a slave to an internal script of moral purity, a gentle guardian whose only crime is being "too proper".

The game's turning point came later: when Angel accidentally discovered the secret room behind the bedroom wall—a shrine with her photos, stolen clothes, and even handmade dolls. Seeing the collection of stolen items and the meticulous tracking of Angel’s life, terror should have followed, but I understands it right away, a devastating sense of being seen. In a world of 7 billion people, someone had finally deemed every trivial detail of Angel’s life—every shift at the bakery, every lost jacket—worthy of sanctification.

The horror, however, deepens as Angel confronts the reality of this obsession. Upon finding their lost jacket and demanding it back, the mask of the “pure guardian” finally slips. Lee’s desperate, panicked insistence on “washing it first” is a visceral punch to the gut. It isn’t the hospitality of a host; it is the frantic scrambling of a man trying to scrub away that "crusty white stains", the physical evidence of his secret desecration. He is terrified for his "Angel" to see the reality of his repressed lust, a moment that turns his silent devotion into something far more stifling and macabre.

Yet even this is just the threshold. Following the dark hallway down into the basement, the scene forces every piece of the puzzle into place: When Angel confided days earlier about being sexually assaulted by her colleague Brandon, Lee didn't offer cheap comfort or useless advice. He had already chosen action—the most extreme, violent action—to erase the man who hurt Angel from existence, permanently.

Immersed in his clumsy yet sincere care, I started actively ignoring the unsettling details that had already surfaced—like his obsession with Angel's jacket, or his ruthless disposal of “troublesome” creatures in the aquarium. From the opening scenes gives a real "naive hope" for a connection transcending the doctor-patient dynamic. But looking back, the clues were already there, homie buried the most lethal intent within the most mundane dialogue. Lee’s calm admission of ‘disposing’ of aggressive fish was a masterclass in narrative irony. What I took for simple tank maintenance was, in fact, a blueprint for murder. The same went for his collecting Angel's graffiti-covered flyers and his attention to her cat-hair jacket. It wasn't until the basement revelation late in the game that I jolted awake—that mundane statement was Lee's first warning of his violent tendencies. That fish tank was his ideal world: all “impurities” threatening his cherished possessions (the shrimp, i.e., the protagonist Angel) must be purged. Every metaphor in the game now reads like a key. The Jenny Haniver symbolized the “monstrous angel” misunderstood by society that cannot comprehend its nature in Lee's self-image. Even the fire shrimp were symbolic, representing Lee's silent acceptance of Angel’s gender non-conformity. In these early hours, the deadliest foreshadowing isn't actually hidden—it is simply, and terrifyingly, masked by the facade of the ordinary.

homie’s characterization of Lee is unnervingly, almost pathologically, precise. There exists a twisted yet perfectly self-consistent paradox here: Lee can calmly execute Brandon with a drill in the basement, acting as a god of cold-blooded vengeance; yet, he cannot bring himself to steal a single glance at Angel in the bathtub, behaving like a terrified devotee fearing he might desecrate his own deity. homie’s precision here is curel, clinical; it makes me feel as though I am not just playing a game, but witnessing a visceral dissection of human repression and longing.

The game then narrows down to a single, non-moral question: Accept or Reject?

Such a plot should have instilled utter terror, yet strangely, my first reaction upon seeing the scene was: “He was willing to go this far for me, damn.” Faced with the binary choice, I chose "Accept" without a moment of hesitation, for I saw the motive behind his actions—protection. In that instant, Lee's deed ceased to be murder in my eyes, becoming instead an extreme, blood-soaked declaration of love. I willingly became his accomplice, burying the body together, fantasizing about starting anew somewhere unknown. For I understood Angel's feelings: It is better to be devoured by a monster who knows your name than to be ignored by a world that doesn't care if you live or die.

Yet when I finally pulled myself out of that sickening romance of “being absolutely needed” and revisited the “Reject” option I'd abandoned, I realised what a cruel logical loop homie had crafted here:

On the surface, "Reject" is the "right" thing to do. It is a stand for morality and autonomy. But as many have noted, the narrative punishes this choice with a bleak, abrupt silence. To reject Lee isn’t merely a boundary—it is a death sentence, it is to return to the life of "death by a thousand cuts," burdened by a guilt you didn't ask for, while the only person who ever truly prioritised you over anything ends their life in a corner. Lee has harbored a suicidal impulse since the age of nine; Angel was the first and only source of “oxygen” in his lifetime of drowning. To pull away is to effectively suffocate him.

"Accept" means a surrender to a codependent symbiosis. Lee’s act of murder isn't just a crime; it’s a "surgical removal" of Angel’s trauma. He didn't offer empty platitudes; he offered a blood-stained shield. For the chronically lonely, a "monster" who would burn the world to keep you warm is infinitely more precious than a "saint" who does nothing while you freeze.

This ending itself transcends ordinary game narratives. It feels less like a choice and more like a inevitable deadlock: For a soul driven to the edge, “doing the sensable thing” is a meaningless thing. ‘Morality’ is nothing more than the noose handed to us for our own suicide. It is only by choosing the ‘immoral’ embrace that a blood-stained rose can finally bloom from the cold concrete.

It left me with a lingering chill, the abrupt, unexplained conclusion after Reject is steeped in brutal realism. The final scene before Lee's suicide in Ending 1 pushes this despair to its absolute limit. He shows no anger, no aggression—only silently retreats to the corner of the room, curls up facing the wall, as if reverting to that 9-year-old boy abandoned by the world. He says: “I always felt safe standing in the corner. You can't get in more trouble if you're already there.” He spent his entire life trying to escape that corner through ‘excellence’ and “control,” but when his last hope shattered, he retreated to that most primal, safest psychological refuge, only to seal himself there forever through death.

But then, homie peels back the final layer of psychological horror—a detail that still gives me PTSD. If you hesitate during Lee’s countdown—if you don’t force Angel to leave the basement immediately—the screen doesn't cut to black. Instead, you are forced to watch Lee raise the drill and end his life right in front of you, anchoring himself to that dark corner forever in death with the ultimate emotional blackmail. The author manifests this extreme control and moral entrapment into that spinning drill, boring straight into the player's heart.

It makes me wonder: what kind of life crafts such a profound, visceral aesthetic? What level of endurance is required to build a narrative this unflinchingly heavy, yet so deeply human?" And perhaps, the author didn't conjure this from thin air, but lived through the consequences of such a choice.

I couldn't stop speculating. There is a profound sense of authenticity in the game's technicality. Its satire of the healthcare system's cold bureaucracy brims with the resentment and resignation of an insider, the medical jargon—EHRs, peer-to-peer authorizations, RVUs—isn't just research; it feels like the bitter residue of a past life. There are rumors that homie is a survivor of significant physical and social trauma. If true, this game is a massive act of trauma re-enactment.

homie’s creative history is a relentless landscape of gore, physical mutilation, and the systematic erosion of their characters. Is it "fetishization" or "darkness of the soul"? Perhaps it’s both. While unverified rumors about his private life circulate, one thing is certain: This is survivor's art, and the author forged this dark fairy tale with their own flesh and blood. When one endures shattering trauma, reenacting that pain through art becomes a way to seize control of the narrative. Eventually, the act of seeking solace within the wound evolves into its own kind of eroticized fixation—a 'fetish' born from the need to survive. Lee’s dream of becoming an orthopedic surgeon—someone who meticulously repairs broken limbs—feels like a heartbreakingly corrective fantasy for the author’s own physical loss. The profound isolation shared by Lee and Angel is a direct mirror of the author’s reality: a state of being hunted, misunderstood, and exiled by a world that demands a 'purity' they no longer possess. That silent black screen might be the most authentic image in the author's memory—“I did the right thing, so why did the world punish me?” That seemingly perfect Happy Ending might be the author posing a weighty question to themselves and players in this virtual realm: “If you could start over, would you choose another path to happiness—even if it's sinful happiness—with me?”

But as the dust settles and I reflect on my choice, my initial "analytical" horror was only touching the surface—I tried to observe from another point of view. I viewed Lee through the lens of a master manipulator with his high intelligence and chilling foresight made it even darker. He didn't just kill Brandon to protect Angel; he meticulously ensured that the crime was pinned on both of them. He created a "forced symbiosis" through evidence and timing, essentially taking Angel—and the player—moral hostage. It was a kidnapping of the soul. He used the corpse, and his own impending suicide, as the ultimate leverage. And Lee doesn't just offer a home; he builds an aquarium of his life. The cell phone jammer is the ultimate proof of this. He isn't just protecting Angel from Brandon; he is "killing" Angel’s connection to the outside world. He creates a vacuum where he is the only source of oxygen. When Angel disables the jammer only to find that no one has messied them for three days, Lee’s trap is complete. He has successfully convinced Angel that the world has already abandoned them, so they might as well crawl into his cage.

And yet, as I scrutinized Lee’s "master plan," a series of jarring inconsistencies emerged. The narrative, for all its psychological brilliance, relies on a cascade of improbable coincidences. Angel’s discovery of the shrine by accident, Lee’s bizarre decision to take a shower at the most critical moment, and "trying to troubleshoot a Wi-Fi router even upon discovering their caretaker is a stalker"—it all feels less like a meticulously planned entrapment and more like the author was trying to force the plot forward. For a moment, this flaw pulled me out of the game's hypnotic trance.

But the clumsy plot holes no longer mattered. When looking at the official art with two lines of caption, “In my last days on earth, an angel came to stay with me,” That single sentence recontextualized everything and solitified everything about Lee.

Lee wasn't hunting; he was never a stalker or a predator. A predator would never be so heartbreakingly servile, born from a profound sense of unworthiness and self-loathing.

A predator doesn't spend weeks tracking down a specific shade of blue bandages just because you mentioned them once in passing. A predator doesn't violate every professional rules to taste-test a bitter syringe, frantic to ensure they aren't the ones poisoning the only light in their life. A predator doesn't stand there with a rigid, awkward face and say 'I don't mind' when you laugh at his clumsiness. And most certainly, a predator doesn't dismantle his entire future just to erase the man who hurt you.

He was a desperate, dying man who had repressed himself so much that he forgot how to love, believing he was fundamentally undeserving of the light he so desperately worshipped, clinging to his last, unexpected miracle.

He didn't have a flawless plan because he never expected to live long enough to need one. His love was never a calculated trap, and the basement was never meant to be Brandon’s prison—it was dug to be Lee’s own grave. Dialogue revealed the house was bought cheap because the previous owner died rotting in a wall cavity—a morbid history that Lee didn't just accept, but embraced. When Lee reveals that his first thought upon discovering the owner's hidden hole was, “We had the same idea,” the reality of his despair hits like a physical blow. The unopened door and the illegal structures behind the bedroom wall aren't just "game mechanics"—they are the physical manifestations of a mind that had already checked out of life long before the clinical trial began. Since the age of nine, Lee had been a "walking ghost," tethered to a world he despised by nothing more than a rigid, hollow script of professional duty. He was a man who was waiting for the clinical trial to end so he could finally disappear into the hole he had built for himself.

Then came Angel.

In Lee’s eyes, Angel wasn't just a participant; they were a literal answer to a silent prayer he had forgotten he’d made. When he discovered the trauma Angel suffered at the hands of Brandon, Lee didn't act out of a desire for control—he acted out of a dying man’s scorched-earth devotion. He used the only "power" he had left—the fact that he had nothing to lose—to erase the person who dimmed Angel’s light. He decided to give the death he had reserved for himself to Brandon, so that he could give the chance for a life to Angel. The cell phone jammer and the isolation weren't tools of kidnapping; they were his way of stopping time. He created a vacuum because, in his mind, the outside world had already "killed" both of them long ago. He was simply offering a shared, quiet afterlife, showing Angel the brutal reality they both share: the world is indifferent, but I am here.

Lee loves Angel because in a life defined by cold, rigid protocols—a life he had already signed over to death—Angel is the only source of "spirit", he sole anchor to the living world; their vibrant, ethereal presence is the only thing that made him pause his countdown to the grave. While the rest of the world sees Lee as a stiff, clinical machine, Angel is the only one who noticed the blue bandages he carefully chose for them. They were the only soul who truly listened, with sincere tenderness, to his long and awkward monologues about fire shrimp. Even in Act 1, during those cold clinical sessions, you could feel they were on the same wavelength. It wasn't loud or obvious, but there was this quiet chemistry—like two magnets slowly gravitating toward each other in a room full of noise.

And Angel loves Lee because in a world that never stops inflicting "death by a thousand cuts," only this massive, clumsy, and terrifyingly obsessive man can build a wall thick enough to shield them from the storm. Lee’s focus—whether it is memorizing their work schedule or sharing the trivial details of an aquarium, is the only warmth they have ever truly owned. When Angel says, "I want to be a small animal," the moment Lee "takes over" their existence, Angel receives a sacred exemption from the agony of being a person. In the sanctuary of their shared crime, they no longer have to feel the shame of their ADHD or apologize for failing at life. Angel willingly trades their autonomy and their "innocence" for a peace as a cherished, protected, and absolutely possessed "small animal."

Clinical Trial left me in a state of hollow resonance, because I see pieces of my own history in both the brokenness of Angel and the suffocating repression of Lee, and this game takes the quiet desperation of our lives and amplifies it to the extreme until it screams. I understood Angel's despair because I, too, have lived through the slow, internal grinding that leaves you feeling 'not cut out for being human.' When the world offers only cold indifference, Lee’s obsessive gaze doesn’t feel like an intrusion, it feels like a witness. I understand why Lee did what he did, because I know what it’s like to lock oneself away—to build walls so high that your own heart becomes a stranger. For people like us, love isn't a casual exploration; it is a single, terrifying, all-or-nothing bet. This is why Lee’s logic, however twisted, becomes so seductive: since the wall of professional ethics barred him from having Angel in the open, he might as well tear down the wall. Througha single, violent act, he forges a bond deeper than any promise, built on a shared secret. In that moment, all suppression vanished—they no longer needed to perform for the world, only to be real with each other. The question ceases to be whether we can trust a murderer in an "evidentiary vacuum." It becomes a devastating realization: for the truly broken, Lee’s clumsy, violent devotion is the only sanctuary left. He burned down his own life to make sure his Angel wouldn't have to shiver in the dark during his final days on earth, and for Angel, that fire fills a void the "normal" world left wide open. In their shared darkness, the tranquility of them painting together is real. The safety Angel feels in Lee’s arms is real. "I don't care if it's wrong as long as you love me, as long as we are together" is the only reality that matters.

Strip away the medical jargon, the art history references, and the horror elements, and the skeleton of Clinical Trial is shockingly simple. It is, at its core, a story about a repressed, touch-starved man—burdened with religious trauma, OCD and too much muscle (gym routine btw) — who kills a predator to protect the only person who ever made him feel human. It sounds like a cliché, perhaps a dark twist on "Beauty and the Beast." But this simplicity is exactly made the game so lethal. homie took this simple skeleton and filled it with such granular, painful details, until it became a story about our own unfulfilled needs. Many saw the blood, the perversion, the control. But I saw the loneliness. Perhaps that is the most beautiful and tragic thing about it. It’s extreme, it’s twisted, yet for anyone who has ever felt bone-chilling cold in the dead of night, it is breathtakingly beautiful. It forces us to look at the parts of ourselves we’ve spent a lifetime trying to hide: the part that is tired of "being strong," and the part that would gladly embrace a monster if it meant never being invisible again. I could never forget that faint, blood-stained warmth. It is the cruelest, yet most tender hallucination the author left for every lonely soul out there.

To me, homie is the ultimate Vigilante. He couldn't fight his bullies in the physical world, so he fought them with his art. He built a world where the broken are protected. To create is to take revenge on a world that wants you silent. They didn't just make a game; they broadcasted a frequency that only the fellow lonely can hear. And I heard it, loud and clear.

[windynova]

Never-ending Abstraction

We live in a world of ever-increasing abstraction. Smartphones, for example, provide a seamless interface for communication, entertainment, and productivity. We tap, swipe, and click, but undoubtly oblivious to the intricate web of hardware, software, and networks that make these interactions possible. We readily accept the appearance of simplicity, but often overlook the complexity that lies behind it , leading us to underestimate the inherent complexity and immense sophistication of the technologies we use every day.

This high level of abstraction somehow brings a awareness gap, and is not unique to technology. We often see the same phenomenon in other fields as well. The elegance of a musical composition might mask the years of practice and dedication required to achieve mastery, or like the brilliance of a scientific discovery that always built on top of the countless failed experiments and rigorous yet tedious analysis that paved the way. Look at the internet nowadays, fast-food content is literally everywhere, the tendency to overlook the complexities happens to fostering them and counteracting each other. giving us unrealistic expectations, a lack of appreciation for the true value of real stuff, and a diminished desire to exploring the depths.

The solution lies within the mind of ourself, give yourself a mindset of curiosity that embraces complexity. The journey of understanding requires time, effort, and a willingness to challenge our initial assumptions. But the rewards of revealing the true brilliance and deep understanding, are truly amazing.

[windynova]

Life

The world is home to eight billion souls – a number so vast it beyonds the mind. In the grand scheme of things, I am but a speck of dust. Destiny is but a word we ascribe meaning to. Past makes you regret, future makes you worried. Fuck and forget them all, Past is fixed, and for what can be predicted is never the future. To have witnessed death is to truly understand that the preciousness of life is to live ourselves in the moment - in good health and a will in pursuit of our passions, is enough. Just Do it; If you have great ideas, don't let them remain just ideas; take action and try yourself to make them a reality. It takes courage to venture into the unknown, and to truly make a mark on the world is a rare and remarkable feat. To break free from the confines of our own minds is a triumph in itself, but as the same time, the most challenging step. Our energy and capacity for knowledge and skill is finite, if you could learn something, it's a blessing. But if could grasp the essence of life, however, is a precious gift from god… Let us embrace the unknown with open hearts and courageous spirits, for even amidst the vastness of the world, we each have the power to create meaning and leave our own unique mark.

[windynova]

Masterminds behind masterpieces

Years ago, as I was zoning out of that default dark acrylic Windows 10 default wallpaper on my desktop, taking in the striking fractals and that bold blue color,

I'm struck by how much detail can goes into a piece of work even into such minialistic wallpaper. There's just something interesting about discovering the source behind things. Who was the creative mind that designed this? What inspired them? A quick search reveals the wallpaper was made by graphic designer GMUNK for a Microsoft contest, along with a Windows 10 promo video in collab with the electronic-duo ODESZA, which is a real hit. Think of this, billions of screens will light up with his simple yet intricate details of the patterns, and this one stunning image sets the first impression and visual tone for so many people accessing their devices, making this unravelling process of this art even more fascinating.

At this point, i'm already learning so much and my curiosity is piqued even more. I visit GMUNK's website and i was stunned by his portfolio, each piece seemingly more innovative than the last. As digging deeper, man posts interviews and behind-the-scenes creative processes. With every detail I learn, I find myself amazed by how talented these creators are in their own world of imaginations.

https://gmunk.com

[windynova]

Mainstream social media recommendations feed promotes distortion

Blindly following the trend, driven by interests and distorting value is the mainstream nowadays. Twitter has gradually evolved from an information sharing platform into a public opinion field full of noise, controversy and false information. Many people use it to gain attention or spread negative emotions. The decentralized concept of Web3 was initially full of expectations, but now it has been over-hyped by some people and turned into a tool for speculation and money-making, deviating from its original intention. Those who misinterpret the essence and try to hype them and take advantage of public psychology to twist some originally valuable things into trendy products and make profits from them.

I feel absolutely troubling and disturbed by all those misinformation and prejudiced views I come across on a daily basis. It's already incredibly disappointing to see how easily perceptions of reality become distorted online. People may have various views and judgments about themselves and the world around them, Some views and judgments are based on facts and logic, while others are just based on prejudices and misunderstandings and unwilling to accept or understand new information and opinions

Considering the environment I was in, given that we often unconsciously absorb stereotypes, prejudices, and biased worldviews from our societal environment and education systems from a young age, it takes conscious effort, and even some luck to question our internalized beliefs, the algorithms and self-reinforcing nature of social media make that incredibly difficult, essentially trapping people in closed cycles of misinformation and increasingly narrow perspectives that drown out minor voice. Tragically, open-mindedness and critical thinking have become severely compromised, and this is the reality where are in right now.

[windynova]

The Desire to connect within

I find myself torn between my inner world and desire to connect. On one hand, I take comfort in my own independence and completeness. My inner reality, imagination, interests, and perspectives where I can be fully myself without judgment. However, as fulfilling as my inner world may be, part of me also seeks to communicate, reach out, and build bridges between my world and others.

I recognize the value of sharing parts of myself more openly. And yet opening up exposes vulnerabilities and requires bravery. I fear being misunderstood or rejected for who I truly am or what I truly think or feel. I worry that my quirks, flaws, or unfiltered thoughts won’t be accepted once exposed.

As I reflect more, I see this inner conflict from both care for my own well-being and care for forming quality connections. Perhaps these aims need not oppose each other. Moving forward, I hope to find the right balance.

[windynova]

Asia Kate Dillon is so cool

https://view.ceros.com/hype-beast/meet-mx-dillon/

Photographer: Ryan Plett

[windynova]

Photos of John Nolan, he is an uncle of director Christopher Nolan and writer Jonathan Nolan.

i mean, he is the coolest antagonist in Person Of Interest

John Nolan was born on May 22, 1938 in London, England. He is an actor, known for Batman Begins (2005), Dunkirk (2017) and Person of Interest (2011). He has been married to Kim Hartman since 1975. They have two children. (from IMDb)

http://john-nolan.co.uk/

[windynova]

2020.11.17 The portal leads back to the things that became my childhood

I couldn't help but start reminiscing about the past, sorting through my computer, my hard drive, my camera from 2005.

Please take me back to the times when computers were fun

Vietcong 2 LMD$ Clan http://lemondogs.webs.com

A Japanese escape room FLASH Games creator  モフや http://mofuya.com/

Secret Garden - Nocturne https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5beWOIecS4

5 Spots - 找别扭 https://www.bigfishgames.com/games/1265/5spots/

Hamsterball 仓鼠球 https://www.hamsterball.io/

The Legend of Zelda - Twilight Princess

I’ve watched the matrix again and again

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Md8jsAT7D58

这些很久很久以前在我脑海里深处的东西 被我一一翻出

People create stuff everyday, back when the internet was still on developing, the things that i touched ,i saw became my part, but it’s a shame that we all will eventually fades with time

……

[windynova]

My favorite TV shows : Person Of Interest & Nikita

CBS频道美剧 ：疑犯追踪 The Person Of Interest https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1839578/

Person of Interest is an American science fiction crime drama television series that aired on CBS from September 22, 2011, to June 21, 2016. Its five seasons comprise 103 episodes. The series was created by Jonathan Nolan; executive producers were Nolan, J. J. Abrams, Bryan Burk, Greg Plageman, Denise Thé, and Chris Fisher.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Person_of_Interest_(TV_series)

The CW频道美剧 ： 尼基塔 Nikita https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1592154/

Nikita is an American action thriller drama television series that aired on The CW from September 9, 2010, to December 27, 2013, in the United States. The series is an adaptation of Luc Besson’s French film La Femme Nikita, the second such adaptation after the 1997 TV series La Femme Nikita.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikita_(TV_series)

[windynova]

best song

[windynova]

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Vietcong 2

It was my first FPS game when i was 7

This game is very special to me, it has literally the best, the friendliest and most niche game community in the world, i can safe to say this is the cornerstone of my English learning, and a portal to the western video game to a boy born in the east.

But, sadly, after the multiplayer platform GameSpy was shutdown in 2013, lots of player wouldn’t been able to play multiplayer anymore.. But luckily, community modders made patches to reconnect us to this epic FPS game.

maybe I’m the only person still plays this game in China...

http://vietcong2.cz/

https://steamcommunity.com/groups/vc2x

http://www.vietcong-coop.net/

http://www.vietcong-customs.com/download.php?action=kategorie&kat_id=12

[windynova]

[windynova]

Every man should have one vice

Person Of Interest Season 4 Episode 10 – “The Cold War”

[windynova]

This is where the journey begins...