These too are so cute I just gotta cuddle them
[[Just a heads up, it may be a fairly negative trait, but I am a competitive person. When playing video games, I like to win. Losing, as long as I put my best effort forward, isn’t such a bad thing though; we learn more from failure than success. That’s just how life is.
I like Mass Effect 3’s multiplayer. It’s entertaining, co-operative, and extremely challenging at higher levels. If you have a well balanced team communicating and not being asstards, it heightens the experience that much more. It’s a cool feeling, being part of a squad, rather than a bunch of morons running around getting insta-killed by phantoms.
My roommate asked me to play with him. I declined, because the last time he suggested we play a platinum match, I brought in my best gear and played as hard as I could, while he fucking brought in a level four melee character and refused to use any medigel or survival packs.
For those that don’t play the game, that is like contributing 90% of the cost for a big meal, and then having your friend, only paying 10%, claim you didn’t leave a big enough tip.
He becomes very cross about me refusing his invite and claims I’m taking things too seriously. I explain, as best I can, that I find it very frustrating when he doesn’t contribute towards the group effort, virtual or not. Asks for a second chance, and I begrudgingly agree.
We set up a Gold game against Cerberus…Because I’m an idiot. I check his level before we go in; Krogan warlord at level 17. Not bad.
Things of course go sideways real quick, but we and two mooks manage to make it to wave ten. I’ve expent all my gel and surv packs, and glance over at roommates screen in time to see him bleed out with a full complement of rockets, gel, and surv packs. We lose shortly there after, and aren’t able to finish wave ten.
The final score comes up; me and the other two randoms both pull down nearly 120,000 to 130,000 points. Roommate? 14,000. I ask him what the holy fucking hell he was doing all goddamn match. He simply replied that he was just using a shotgun to complete the Use All The Shotguns deal. The warlord class he was playing is only really useful if you go for melee kills. Wasn’t even using a good shotgun either. I ask him why he didn’t gel or use rockets.
“Oh, I’m saving those.” I shit you not, he has at least bleeding fifty of each. “Wanna play another round?” I shut off my console and walk out.
If someone wants to carry on about how it’s just a game and shouldn’t be taken seriously, then do not fucking talk about conservation of virtual resources within that said fucking game.
Goddammit. I know it’s nothing to get worked up about, but I fucking hate non-team players. If you want to lone wolf it, and conserve resources, play on your own, rather than fucking up others’ co-operative efforts.]]
Yamata stood there across the dojo regarding the reporter.It was a disappointment the boy hadn’t attacked him, the counter he had planned would have shattered that slanderous writing arm for a month at least. When Daichi approched the armor he tensed up for a moment and let out a low snarl. “Yes it is hers, and you are unworthy to look at it let alone touch it.”
The big man walked forward as Daichi continued.. so that’s what this was about, the youngling was digging up the past. He would play along for now, there was plenty of time left to put Daichi in traction later. He stopped about eight feet away from the reporter.. just the right distance to react should the honor-less cur decide to sneak attack.
“What do you want to know?”
“She wore it to protect those that couldn’t protect themselves, right?” The Tengu was quick to answer and watched the man approach warily. Not to avoid any blows, or calculate a cunning sneak attack, but simply to make sure none of the details were lost. “Therefore, you, who can easily guard yourself, has even less of a right to look upon it. You didn’t unify our people, Honored Yamata… She did… So, do not talk to me about who’s unworthy.” He tensed slightly and watched for the attack, but was disappointed when it never came.
Daichi sighed and spread his arms out to his sides, letting them fall back easily. “I know the history, you fossil. I studied the unification, how the yefallos-Oni-luth helped the Tenma gather the tribes, about your involvement in breaking the siege of the South Pass, and how you defeated the Human general Hiroshi Sanadiro and his unit.” The reporter took one step forward. “But that’s history. What I want to see and feel is what mi’lady’s tamed Hawk is actually capable of.” His eyes broke contact long enough to jerk his head towards the weapon rack. “Would it help you to feel threatened? Should I arm myself?”
[[Nightmare material, right there.]]
[[I know nothing about Avatar, but I love seeing this come up. This Boulder fellow has amusing facial expressions.]]
雾都THO用图其三——符卡组 | NABLACK [pixiv]
Nobody in the halls of the Tenma’s mansion dare stand in front of the head guard. The warriors anger and prowess were legendary. Many had challenged him in the past.. only one had ever won. That one was the lady Tenma he swore to serve after. He took orders from no one but the lady. Senate? Council? Public opinion? He cared not what they thought. The only thing he cared about at the moment was showing his ladyship how unworthy this miserable sack of smashed assholes and feathers was of her affections.
Upon reaching the dojo the former warlord tossed Daichi away. He squared up to the reporter and waited for him to stand. “Get up. Come at me when you decide you want to have your honor shattered.” His eye narrowed. “I’ll try not to hurt you too badly.. but accidents happen.”
The reporter was supremely disappointed that not one Karasu felt the lure of curiosity or morbid fascination… What was the Mountain coming to? He sighed and was dragged along, giving up his spiel after a while. Plus, if he were being honest, it would have been less likely that this would end up fatal if there were witnesses.
Once Daichi got back to his feet, dusting himself off, he glanced around at the various armaments, taking special note of the lightweight plate armor proudly displayed. He walked over to it, and paid little attention to the warlord. “Mmm. This hers,” asked the younger man. The temptation to run his fingers over the old armor was hard to resist, but he managed. With his back turned to Yamata, he doubted that the fighter would attack. “If my honor were dependent upon my skill at hand to hand combat, I might rise to your taunt, Honored,” his shoulders and wings rolled in a shrug before he turned around, “but I’m a reporter. Here for the story. Your generation spoke with their fists and talons, right? So…” There was a rather unsettling glint in Daichi’s eyes as they bored into Yamata’s. “Talk to him. Tell me a story.”
“… It’s even better! I got us tickets to the Moriya flower viewing and I just saved a bunch on money on our shrine insurance by switching to Suweico!”
[[Help! Help! He’s being oppressed!
Jeff for favorite person, on account of Python references.]]
The towering monolithic structure of a man loomed over the frail snarky reporter. His reply was more of a low rumble of a gunt than speech. He cracked his neck and knuckles, reached out and grabbed Daichi by his collar and lifted him to his face. “How about we go to the dojo? I’ll bet a month of my pay that I am still faster than your insolent tongue.” And the guard proceeded to carry the young reporter in one hand like he were a coffee cup towards the Tenma’s dojo for some “sparing.”
Ha! Playing directly into Daichi’s hands! Er… Talons. Whatever.
Not bothering to shake himself loose, the reporter exhaled and let the his avian traits manifest. He clacked his beak and cackled as he was carried through the Tenma’s residence, calling out greetings to each guard and dignity as he passed.
“Come on, come all! Free, for your amusement, you get to see how the old warlords handled problems,” Daichi crowed out cheerfully and waved for the confused looking house staff to follow, his beak hanging open in a grin. “Just the slightest bit of teasing, and they fall back on violence utilizing every overwhelming advantage they have!” Turning back to meet the guard captain’s eyes, the Karasu made a show of attempting to straighten his robes; a rather futile effort given the clenched fist wrinkling them so very effectively. “Makai, I’d wager a month’s income that I can’t even hit you, you old relic… I just want to see if you hit harder than Ms Kazami or Parsee. A professional appraisal, if you will.”
[[Please wait warmly; busy squealing. Jef just pointed out that the newspaper that Sagiri is reading is ITP.]]
[I ended up making this. I have doomed us all.]
Daichi ran. He wasn’t sure why, exactly, he was terrified, but something was simply… Wrong. His Flight or Suffer Horrors Untold instinct suggested, as it so often did, flight, but he realized he’d be too visible. Bad. Can’t be seen. Must hide.
Yeah, that was about as eloquent as he could manage at the moment. The sing-song voice from too close, far too close, made the Tengu gasp and take off running through the dark underbrush. What was really upsetting though, was the absolutely normal sounds from around him. His ears insisted, despite his terrified brain and adrenalin suffused blood, that everything was just fine and peachy.
Which was odd, because he was certain that someone on par with Ms Yakumo, or the Gap Youkai herself if she was just masking her presence, was seeking Daichi out. So, he ran on, until his legs were leaden and his heart was pumping something like battery acid. Then he ran some more. Does panting and nearly dropping dead of exhaustion count as completing a sentence? Eh. Good enough.