I’ve been friends with my best friend for nearly 10 years. We’re both (F19). About a year ago, she got into a relationship with this guy (m18) on the rebound. At first I thought he was really great cause he seemed sweet and made more effort than the last. For context I should state this is a mainly online, long distance relationship. I was initially really happy for her and glad she was finally being treated the way she deserves. I left for college and was excited to come home winter break and get to see her and meet him. However, first impressions quickly changed this. We had made plans in advanced for winter break and I was happy to include him. The morning of plans she canceled out last minute cause he didn’t feel like going. I pointed out how this made me a little upset, talked it out, nothing changed except she insisted I meet him in person New Year’s Eve. Was hesitant but went over to her house to get a sense of how he was in person. No greeting other than a fake grin and a quick wave. Complained about the food we were ordering for the night and insisted we order what he wanted. Baby raged when Taco Bell canceled his order and threw phone on the ground. When the ball dropped her threw his arm around her neck(almost like a headlock) and made out with her in front of us. Then my friend fell asleep and as we were cleaning up her house from the night, he walked upstairs like he owned the place and told us to see ourselves out. I was like “ oh I’m cleaning up before I leave cause Ik how her mom is about mess.” He goes “oh ok” and then proceeds to micromanage me and all my other friends telling us where shit should go as if I’ve never been to her house before. It was overall just a bad first impression and I’ve been quite about stuff ever since. Ever since then, she had told me and other friends things he has done to get opinions. Some of these include being blatantly racist, homophobic, and sexist towards others, gaslighting her, being extremely petty towards her, having no manners( her dad pointed out how he never said thank you when he treated him to food a whole weekend WHEN HE SHOWED UP TO HER DOOR LITERALLY UNANNOUNCED). A lot of the time when we’re out, she’ll point out cute things couples do and she’ll ask “why doesn’t he do that?” My only response is “if he wanted to he would.” My final straw is when he got into a fight with her over a haircut. He flipped out because she got bangs. He didn’t even see a picture of it initially. He hates bangs on girls period and felt that was valid to start an argument. She asked me how she should respond to him and I tried to be as eloquent as possible. He’s the one who started it and when he saw he was losing, he still tried to blame it on her and her “choice of wording” to tell him that she got bangs. I posed the simple question that if he didn’t care about it much and it was “just hair” as he said then why did it turn into a whole argument? The conversation didn’t go far but she spent the rest of the night asking me if her hair looked bad. I felt horrible. We were both so happy leaving the salon and then he did that and it ruined the whole day. I asked if this happens often she said sometimes but at least he apologizes and he does some good things too. I have yet to see anything good out of him quite honestly. Occasionally he will send her small gifts but he’ll never treat her to anything. She always pays him back and he never pays her back. She wanted help with homework and he only felt inclined to do it if money was involved. He told me once he freaks out if he says I love you and she doesn’t respond right away. I’m just at a loss. I don’t want to come off as a possessive asshole, I just miss seeing her genuinely happy. I feel like lately she’s been really careless and looking for temporary spouts of happiness. I miss being with her and doing things with her and I understand college changes relationship and everyone goes through their own personal struggles… I just want to see her genuinely happy again. I feel like he’s not helping the situation.
TL;DR In short, I think my best friend is in an abusive relationship and it’s not only affecting her behavior personally but it’s affecting our friendship and idk If I should address it w her

RDR2 Red Dead Redemption Epilogue Bugs, Fixes, and Tips

The Epilogue doesn't have to be miserable. I love this game. Who knows how many hundreds of hours I've put into it, and honestly, I may play the epilogue for many hundreds more. However, Rockstar really dropped the ball in this particular portion. There's a few major bugs and some immersion-breaking crap that have to be compensated for. Luckily, I've found methods for most of these thanks to experimentation and the wonderfully helpful community of Reddit.

TIP 1. How to sleep in your own bed

• When "fast travel" appears, watch for the "R1" icon to appear underneath. Pressing it will change it to "sleep" or "sit".
• Curse the developer who definitely didn't stress test this mechanic.

TIP 2. How to get rid of all that fucking money

This is my personal least favorite part of the Epilogue. There's just too much money and nothing to do with it. If you're a witch, please curse whichever developer was responsible for not giving people the ability to donate cash to the household or something. Would have saved us all a lot of annoying meta gaming for to compensate.
Here are some work arounds to get you back to broke:
Shopping Sprees
This seems obvious and is the safest, least immersion-breaking option.
Buy everything. I've read that everything in the stables - saddles and everything, plus all the outfits, plus all the guns amounts to something like over 15 grand. That should get rid of a good portion in fairly short order.
Pump and Dump
This is slightly immersion breaking and takes a bit of time, but it should be safe from errors.
This requires the Legendary Satchel to really do well. Figure out what sort of items you can discard, then buy out the grocery stores of all those items, discard them all, and repeat. An item worth $4.50 should get rid of $450 per purchase. This might take a while if you're trying to burn a lot of cash, but if you're down to like $4000 or so, it might be faster than Ranching or Killing Sprees.
Ranching
This method doesn't break immersion, but is slightly more dangerous than the shopping sprees in terms of causing errors. Try not to max out the stable while doing this as it seems to cause glitches and may block you from selling horses after a while. Sell all of your horses when you start and make sure you always have some open stalls.
I like to roleplay while doing this - imaging that buying the expensive horse is an investment, and when it's "sold" (dropped as a temporary horse), Abigail and the kid get the profits. I lose money, and I don't break the immersion.

• Go to the stables in blackwater and buy the most expensive horse.
• Ride back home to the pen.
• Unsaddle the expensive horse
• Saddle one of your cheap horses, then unsaddle it. Your expensive horse becomes temporary.
• Saddle a different one of your cheap horses, then unsaddle it. Your expensive horse becomes your secondary temporary.
• Oftentimes there's only a couple of these horses in your pen - so ride around the fields of blackwater a find a new, wild horse to tame.
• Saddle up your new wild horse, and the expensive horse disappears because you can only have two temporary horses.
• Repeat.

Killing Sprees
It doesn't get rid of a ton of money compared to $20,000, but killing sprees in the middle of town can net up to $1500 in bounties if you survive long enough. It's not very efficient, however.

TIP 3. Stuff to do

It may seem at first that the Epilogue is pointless and without goals - but let me assure you there's lots to do.

• Side Quests - Obviously besides the main story line there are a fair amount of sidequests and easter eggs. I won't divulge all of these here.
• Gangs - There's a ton of gang hideouts in New Austin that you can clear out, as well as some drama in Tumbleweed you can participate in.
• Collecting - This is, in my opinion, a more boring goal, but it's there none-the-less for all you completionists out there. Cigarette cards to collect, saddles to buy, weapon upgrades, places to discover, people to kill, etc. etc.
• Burning Cash - See my previous entry on getting yourself back to broke. Honestly this is probably one of the toughest "quests" Rockstar unintentionally put into the epilogue.

Once those four major goals are complete, I've found myself happily passing back and forth between "Order" and "Chaos".

• Order - Working on the homestead, eating dinner with your family, doing the chores, protecting the livestock from the predators just outside the gate, getting drunk in the bars, shave every day, get your haircut, look prim and proper, take train rides to the city, spend frivolously on food and drink, start fights, get arrested. Ah, the rich life. I like incorporating Ranching (mentioned in the previous section) into my Orderly phase until I've run out of money. Then I go Nomad.
• Chaos - When farm life has you bored, go Nomad for a while. This means staying away from towns for as long as you can - No haircuts, no baths, no shopping. Camp every night. Unsaddle your horse while camping and tell it to flee so it can have a little freedom every day. Keep your horse well fed and brushed. Collect herbs when you can, and only eat meals you can cook with them. Drink and smoke under the stars. Get your food from the land, get your alcohol, ammo, and cigarettes from highway robbery, burglary, hunting, and raiding (don't forget your bandana). Live wild and free as a brigand on the road and see how much money you can make. Do what you can to pay off your bounties.

Bugs and "Fixes"

BUG: Chores are whacked out, can't sell goods / complete chores

• Given the consistency of this issue, if you're a witch, please curse the developer who definitely didn't stress test this mechanic.
• If you can't sell eggs or milk, it's best to give it up for that day and try again tomorrow. Make sure you do the chores one at a time and try not to skip ahead. Once you deliver one chicken feed bag, sometimes it says you can feed the chickens now. This is, what I can only surmise, an attempt at trolling by the developers. Do not listen. Finish all of the bags before touching that chicken feed. Don't attempt to load the wagon until everything else is done. Maybe it will work.

BUG: You can't sell horses to the stable right now

• If you're a witch, please curse the developer who implemented this mechanic.
• Save your game and reload
• wait a day or so in game by sleeping or camping (of course this is limited too because some asshole at Rockstar thought "sleeping" was overpowered)
• wait an hour IRL
• break a wild horse or go to your ranch and take a wild horse from the pen. Move your saddle to this horse, then go to the stable and see if it lets you sell it. If not, saddle a different horse and repeat this until you find a horse that can be sold. I suspect a wild horse may work better, as perhaps the penned horses might be copy/pasted programming objects.
• If all else fails, run your horse off a cliff. It's not as terrible as using dynamite or firebombs, and frankly, this is not your fault. Rockstar is the real villain here. They should have included an option for a mercy killing, but they didn't. Now we have to do it the hard way. Which sucks, honestly, because I really love the horses in this game and it's a shame if you've gotten to this point trying to fix a glitch.

BUG: Saddle disappears after placing on the ground:

• A comical message appears after the remove your saddle and place it on the ground at the ranch that says something like "items you drop on the ranch are always put in convenient locations."
• This is both hilarious and infuriating, because the only thing you can drop really is the saddle, and the game likes to often relocate it to the very top of your house where you can't reach it.
• The quickest solution is to fast travel to Blackwater from your bed, then go to the stables and retrieve your saddle from there.

Hello ! I've always felt different about my gender since elementary school. It's really hard to explain. It sounds stupid, but I used to be the father when we played "the parents" and it was always so "comforting" to me, Iliked getting called a boy and stuff. I wanted to be part of "the boys" when they played together. I remember when we used to play "girls against boys" (a game where the girls/boys would chase the boys/girls) and I always wanted to be in the boys group.
I have a flat chest and a short haircut and I often get called a boy, sir or he in public. I genuinely enjoy that, it makes me stupidly smile. However, my body started to change a lot lately, and I feel really uncomfortable in it. I cannot put words on this, but everything feels weird when I get called a girl or when someone asks me to be more girly.
I just want to know how being trans works. Like, what makes you trans ? How can you define the "feeling" of being a girl or not ? How does gender works anyway ?? I've never really considered myself a girl or anything. Can anyone try to explain how gender works ? Am I trans or something ?
(Sorry for my horrible english, I don't know how to speak english)

Challenge started 01/01/2023
Date watched 06/07/2023
I saw this on Kanopy.
This is a Japanese movie, and a short one at that, movie that is, it’s like 40 minutes long. This movie is about two Hafus as the Japanese call them, people of bi-racial decent. One is a rich kid that is coming back to Japan after dropping out of school in the US, while the other grew up in a poor part of town and works a labor job. They meet and bond over their status as people the Japanese see as foreigners even though they are Japanese.
This film was OK. I liked that it was short and well produced. What I kind of didn’t like was the rich kid, maybe it is portrayed completely realistically but ai can’t help but think if he only got a haircut that wasn’t goofy half (hafu) his problems would be gone. I’ll give this a 2.9 stars out of 4 stars and say that if you have a spare 40 minutes this won’t be a complete waste of that time.

Chapter One
Chapter Seventeen
Martinez slouched his way into the kitchen. He wasn’t really paying attention to his surroundings; in his defense it was early in the morning and he’d failed at getting some appropriate shut-eye before he went and, you know, bared his entire soul to Chao. At least that was his plan. But as usual, the universe laughs at plans.
He placed a sealed plastic package into the coffee machine, then put a styrofoam cup in the appropriate location. He yawned as the machine began its burbling.
“Hey.”
Martinez snapped his head over at McCoy, who’d suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She leaned against the counter, with a big and very evil grin on her face.
“Um…” began Martinez, before he was interrupted by a voice from his other side.
“Hey.” Matt leaned there, and if McCoy looked evil then Matt looked positively diabolical. Martinez glanced behind him and saw more soldiers, all with looks of ill intent on their faces.
The corporal didn’t waste time in asking what the hell they were up to, he just started throwing hands and feet. Future scholars would count the resulting battle as one for the ages; Martinez even managed to tag Toke with a couple of pretty good punches and one really sweet roundhouse kick.
But in the end, it was still a case of one against many.
__________
“Mmmm mm mmm m mmm!” protested Martinez.
Chao sighed as she beheld his bruised and very taped-up state. “What did those idiots do to you?”
“Mm MMM mmm mm!” The corporal’s mouth was now duct-taped shut, so verbal acuity was not amongst his strong suits at the present.
She put her hands on her hips. “For crying out loud. Matt goes and gets me all worried that you’re somehow in trouble, he leads me over to some random closet and shoves me in here and I find you like this. What’s the game?”
“Gmmmm?”
Chao squatted, examining his bonds. “Well, they sure got you trussed up like a roast for the feast. Hey, if you want me to pull the tape off of your mouth just nod.”
After a moment, Martinez nodded. She reached for the tape covering his mouth, then hesitated. “Um. I don’t have much experience with this so I’ll leave it up to you. Is it better to go fast or slow? Blink once for fast, two for slow.”
With deliberation, Martinez blinked once. Chao nodded and yanked the tape off. They’d even left a convenient tab for her to grab ahold of.
“FUCKING OW!” yelled the corporal. “Um, sorry.”
Chao seated herself before his figure, which was tied up in a fetal position. “You know, the last few weeks have given me a bit of a crash-course on the types of grab-ass shenanigans you soldier types get up to. This is a new one, though. Care to educate me?”
Martinez stared at her in horrified disbelief. “Toke didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what? He just said you were in trouble and that I needed to help out.”
“That…that evil, evil son of a bitch. He said he’d explain everything!”
“Explain what? Luca, I am just about ready to walk out and leave you in here to eventually soil yourself.”
Now that he was literally hog-tied and unable to escape, Martinez realized he had to ‘fess up. “I like you,” he said in an almost-gasp. “I mean, I like you like you. In that way. I mean, I know it’s sudden. We’ve only known each other for maybe four weeks but you’re so smart and pretty and…and, you know about Asimov and Heinlein and Clarke and about orbital mechanics and star spectra.”
She sat in stunned silence while he continued. “I don’t bring much to the table, I get that. But I want to learn. After we come back from the Rithro’s repair mission, I want to go to college…I’ve started looking into that. I’m not much of a catch right now, but maybe one day you’d consider liking me that way as well…”
He was interrupted as she leaned down, grabbed his head, and planted a firm kiss upon his lips. After a moment of pure bliss for both of them, she pulled away. “You utter and complete idiot,” she said, but she said it with a smile. “Did you never think that perhaps you have some attractive qualities of your own?”
Martinez tried to shrug as best he could, being all tied up. “I mean, Toke did mention that I have some pretty nice abs?”
Chao’s eyes glinted in good humor. “Pretty nice? You’ve got an eight-pack. I could shred cheese on those bad boys.”
He looked up at her. “Wait. When did you see my abs?”
“Back when we were sequestered within Cheyenne Mountain, and we were strictly on sponge baths.” She patted his taut stomach, feeling up those aforementioned abs. “Anyways, do you want me to get you out of these bonds?”
“Um…”
Her good humor turned into a diabolical grin. “Or, would you like to remain in these bonds? Toke said something about a safe-word and safe-gesture, he said you’d explain it.”
“Of course he did. That fucker. Um. Chao, this has gone better than I could ever have imagined but I don’t think you need to know…”
“Know about what?” Her caressing of his unprotected stomach did not cease. “Does my corporal have a bit of a fetish?”
His brain seized up again at her emphasis on ‘my’. “I…”
“Let me put it this way. Would you like me to be all mean and nasty, or more cuddly and dommy mommy?”
After a long, long moment of silence he finally murmured, “Dommy mommy.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard. Well, admitting it wasn’t hard.” Her hand continued its explorations. “Now this here is indeed quite hard. Hmm. Good thing you are just too cute for words.”
“Cute?” He looked in disbelief at her, and then flinched at her continued caressing.
“One can be a badass and also cute, my dear corporal. You tick both boxes. Not to mention you’re into a fetish which I’ve wanted to indulge in for a while. Never found anyone who was into it, until now.”
Outside the closet, McCoy stood guard. She smiled in triumph as she heard Martinez yell out in pleasure, and turned to give Toke a thumbs-up.
“It’s about fuckin’ time,” she said.
Matt smiled back at her. He now sported an epic shiner under one eye. “Eh, some kids just need a bit of a nudge, you know?”
__________
It was…it was a wall. A wall he was looking at.
A wall covered in white stucco. Nothing too fancy, but it was indeed a wall and Joachim realized he was looking at it. That might seem like a substandard feat, but for a man who’d been in Joachim’s proverbial shoes it was a grand accomplishment.
His mouth worked as he swished his tongue around in his mouth. He looked around. He sat in a lawn chair in the middle of a beige room, lined on every wall with the stucco he’d just realized he was looking at. “H…hello?”
His voice felt old and clotted. Joachim looked down at his hand, and he saw wrinkled skin and age spots that he didn’t remember seeing there before.
This room only had one exit door, and now it opened. A lean man with dark skin entered. “Joachim Neimyer? I’m Zawahir Ibn Harith. How are you feeling, sir?”
Joachim fixed the newcomer with a steady eye. “I’ll be feeling better once I know where I am. And where is Corina?”
“Corina is on her way, she should be here within minutes. We had great hopes that your treatment was progressing well. Do you know what day it is, sir?”
“Of course I know what day it is! It’s…” Joachim trailed off as he realized that he didn’t know. The last few…years? Decades? He had glimpses of moments in time, as if viewed via a strobe-light. He now realized it was much, much later in time than he thought. “I…what happened?”
“Alzheimer’s, Mr. Neimeyer.” Zawahir’s eyes were kind. “You’ve been suffering from it for the last seven years. But we discovered…or, I should say, we adopted a methodology for treating it. It not only stops the damage, it has a way of reversing at least some of its effects. I fear you will never regain the memories from the time during which you suffered the most, but from now on your mind should function properly once more.”
Joachim rubbed his now-bald pate. “Is Corina all right?”
Zawahir pulled over a chair next to him and seated himself. “She is, blessedly, un-marked by the same affliction. We are, of course, putting her on a similar treatment as yourself just to make sure she remains so. With her consent, of course.”
The old man fixed Zawahir with a direct stare. “This whole thing smells experimental. Why choose me?”
“Mmm, you are as sharp as ever, sir. This is indeed an experiment, and we chose you because you are one of the preeminent rocket experts who ever lived. We need such skills now.”
“What?”
Zawahir leaned forward. “I will do my best to catch you up…”
__________
She walked through the door, supported by a cane. The one person, the beacon in Joachim’s life. Corina lit up upon seeing his gaze. A gaze with intent, with purpose. “They said you were feeling better!”
Before he or the surrounding interns could react, Joachim now found himself with a hundred-ish pounds of enthusiastic elderly woman in his lap.
“Tell me something only you know,” she whispered.
Joachim smiled. “Do you remember what I told you when we saw the green flash? That one time, in Hawaii? During our honeymoon?”
“I do. You said that the flash was the souls of those who’ve gone before.”
“And I promised you that, if I passed before you, that you would just need to look for the flash to see me.”
She clasped his wrinkled face in her own equally-lined hands. “You did better than that. You came back to me.”
“I guess I did.” He kissed her, reveling in the fact that this time he’d remember it.
Zawahir motioned to everyone else in the room. They all quickly got the hint and left the pair to their mutual happiness.
__________
The door of the simulator cracked open and Kifa came scuttling out. She peered up at the normally stony face of Master Sergeant Wilkes; right now the latter looked like he’d just been kicked in the chest by a donkey and was still trying to process it. “How did I do?” asked the xyrax. “It seems like I did quite well.”
“Um…Kifa. Well. Um. Did the controls seem to operate right?”
“Oh, yes! Very much, quite intuitive! It’s been ages since I simulated combat within an atmosphere! That was fun!”
“Fun. You do realize that you were going up against aces. I mean real, human aces?”
“Oh. I thought that was the case.” Kifa peered back into the simulator. “Was I not supposed to know that?”
Wilkes finally laughed, something that was fortunately captured by several cameras and used as blackmail material for many years after. “You did fine. You also just utterly smoked several of the finest pilots on Earth, and that includes non-Americans.” He regarded her with a steady gaze. “I wish I could recruit you to TOPGUN, I’d love to see you show those strutting peacocks a thing or two.”
“What is TOPGUN?”
He sighed. “Right now, it’s in the same exact department as buggy-whip manufacturing. You just showed these punks that, even in atmosphere, you’re death from above.”
Kifa seemed to shrink into themselves. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Now, now, Kifa, this is a good thing. Gotta keep those aforementioned strutting peacocks on their toes. But soon we’ll be dealing with fighting using orbital mechanics, something with which our air-combat people have about as much actual experience as they do with chatting up the fairer sex.”
“Which fairer sex? I mean, my kind is hermaphroditic so I know the mechanics but…” Kifa trailed off as it blinked its four big, oil-drop eyes.
“You are too damned cute for your own good. Pick a sex, any one, I for one do not give a fuck anymore. Point being, we humans need a crash-course in how to fight in space. No atmo, so trying to maneuver using flaps and wings and things is right out. We need to understand how orbits work. Not just intellectually, but in our bones.” Wilkes patted the simulator. “We need you to teach us. We need you to teach an army. Well, navy. Technically. I guess it would count as a navy. Either way. You know how to do this shit, and you just proved that even in atmosphere you can run rings around our best and brightest. So. Are you willing to show us your voodoo?”
“My voodoo…” The blue-furred spider suddenly rose on all of its legs. “Of course! This will be used against the Breakers, yes?”
“Of course.”
“Then it will be my greatest pleasure to show you all of my voodoo!” Kifa paused. “Although, if I received a headpat or two it would also help me properly consider how best to teach you.”
Sergeant Wilkes sighed and reached down. Kifa purred in delight as the usually-taciturn sergeant unleashed the full might and power of Human Headpats upon the alien pilot.
__________
Sadaf watched as the two dark-haired women and one blonde-haired woman had a black-and-white cap fitted over their heads. Both had received a haircut for this day; Parvati for one seemed to be less than thrilled about losing some of her tresses.
“This is the snoopy-cap,” said the aide who stood between the two women. The surroundings were sterile and very, very white. “This cap contains your communications, and it will keep your hair in place during launch.” This was the actual process getting shown to the world. Behind them, Ravindar and Martinez were also in the process of getting suited up, but this was done with much less fanfare. The aide’s words carried to them all, of course.
“Arms up!” Everyone going into space today raised their arms, and a large tubby-looking upper suit then slid down over five figures. Many human hands made sure that their heads made it through the upper ring. “This is the upper part of your pressure suit,” said the aide. “The gloves and helmet will complete that part, but that will come later. Now I will need you all to step into your pants…”
Everyone did so; Chao was the one who didn’t quite make it look elegant. She grinned at Martinez as she fumbled for a bit getting her pressure-suit trousers on; his resulting blush was caught for the cameras but it wasn’t until a week later that someone realized what it meant.
“Latch!” The aide’s voice was hard as metal.
Many hands reached out, twisting multiple metal rings to lock the upper and lower halves of the four pressure suits into one cohesive piece.
“I still say we could make them some proper hardsuits,” said Sadaf to Takh. The two stood off to the side, not exactly part of the dance but not apart from it either.
“No, I think this is better,” said Takh. “We need to make this look more like a…human effort.” Her XO stood at parade-rest, with both sets of arms clasped behind his back.
Sadaf nodded. “I will default to your judgement. By the way…how are you and Corporal McCoy getting along?” She nodded towards the last-minute addition to the crew.
“Um…Ma’am, I…” His faltering was not helped by watching the humans in the clean-room getting clear helmets fixed over their heads. Each latching was followed-up by a tap on the shoulder and a thumbs-up.
The big human, Ravindar, waved his arms over his shoulders as he got the feel for the suit. He’d managed to get the helmet on without an issue, in spite of his substantial beard. “Need more air?” asked a much smaller woman at his side. He shook his head, while he continued to flex and get comfortable with how the suit restricted his motions.
Getting the Sikh to this moment had been a master-class in diplomacy. Not least of which was because he still carried a weapon upon his person. Sadaf had no experience with ‘Sikhism’, but she could appreciate any culture or creed which dictated the need to carry a protective weapon at all times. It appealed to her nature.
“Do you think Parvati knows that he’s, well, into her?” asked Takh.
His captain’s voice became damn near sultry. “Now Takh, and here I thought you were all clueless. I’ve heard of the effort these humans went through to get Chao and Luca together. Would you like me to ask them to perform a similar effort for you and Corporal McCoy? Hmmm? It would make for quite the photo-op, as the humans would say.”
Takh felt a bit of panic, somehow. “No!” His panicked reply was low, hopefully not picked up by the surrounding cameras. “I mean, she’s so small. I could hurt her…assuming she wants to be romantic, of course.”
“Romantic? Takh, I admit I am still learning about human body language but trust me…if you want that, she wants that.” She pondered the humans in the room still going through some last-minute checks of their pressure suits. “Let’s put it this way. If you don’t make a move, then I just might ask Dhuz if it’s okay to add a human to our harem when we get back.”
“What?”
“I have learned quite the delightful human phrase. It is, as they say, Time To Nut Up Or Shut Up. I do find McCoy really cute, after all. As do you.”
Her XO grumbled semi-silently for a bit. “Fair enough, Captain. I’ll ask her. While we’re out there.”
“Good.” The humans in the clean room were now about finished with their checks, and Sadaf felt a bit of a thrill. She was, after all, witness to a species taking their first steps into a larger universe.
Five hoses were now shoved into five chest-mounted receptacles, each hose leading to its own hand-held air-conditioning unit. Another complicated round of checks, slaps, and thumbs-ups then followed.
“They do know that we’re just going to walk beside them right into the landing boat, right?” asked Takh. “This whole process isn’t really necessary.”
“Let them have this moment,” said Sadaf with a gentle smile. “They’re having fun.”
__________
The five white-suited individuals emerged from the hallway to pretty much universal uproar, both in person and online. The suit color was all NASA, but the logos were not. All four wore the emblem of the United Nations at their shoulder, a pair of olive branches surrounding a polar view of the world. The four humans all did their bit and waved for the cameras. Those in charge of the cameras did as instructed, and ignored the two black-and-sliver figures behind the quartet. The latter weren’t wearing any sort of pressure suit.
In the middle of the courtyard hovered the real talking piece, a landing boat from the Rithro. Its entry door was already lowered, and with another wave to the cameras from each of the five humans, they walked up the ramp and into the craft.
The five of them then looked at each other as the door began to close behind them. They’d trained together for a bit, enough to get a feel for each other. But now there was a real sense among them of holy shit what now?
Their mutual what-nows were interrupted as Tofa appeared. The arachnoid alien held a tray in one pedipalp, and upon that tray sat a little dish of what looked like Brazil nuts.
“Greetings!” chirped Tofa. “Welcome to Rithro Air, I assure you we have an excellent safety reputation. Well, almost excellent, if you don’t count the affair around Barnard’s Star. You may now take off your pressure suits. May I interest you in a nut?”
The four humans (and a few of the aliens) flinched as Ravindar let loose with a hearty belly-laugh. He reached up to undo his helmet while he beamed a brilliant white smile at their greeter. “You? I like you. We’re going to be fast friends.” He reached down to pluck a nut from the tray. “Madame? Do you want to take the first nut? Or should I taste it first?”
“Um…” For once, Parvati looked uncertain within her glass-and-cloth cocoon. “If you wish to taste, then please go ahead.”
“As you wish.” Ravindar held her eyes as he bit into the proffered nut. “It seems to be all right,” he pronounced.
After the great ceremony with which they’d been ensconced into their pressure suits, the humans then with reluctance emerged from their cocoons.
“We set up some chairs for everyone!” exclaimed Tofa, who gestured to the sides of the landing craft.
“Um, where do we put all of this?” asked Martinez as he held up a pressure-suit gauntlet.
The alien spider blinked. “Oh, right! Kexal, would you mind helping our guests stow their material?”
__________
The conference room at ULA now looked out over an even-greater bustle of activity. They were determined to at least match SpaceX in terms of tonnage-to-orbit; maybe they’d do so more efficiently? The mere notion had set a fire under everyone.
Joachim sat in a wheelchair while he studied those in front of him. “Ladies and gentlemen. I have, through some strange technological miracle, been re-granted the use of my mind. Not only that; they tell me that I and my wife might, if certain tests go well…we could become that which we once were. I intend to make sure that this gift does not go to waste. Not for me, nor for my wife, nor for the rest of humanity. Anyways. We have some aliens who need our help, we have some psychotic robot idiots who are fucking things up for everyone, and we need to get some serious tonnage into orbit as a result. Is that about the shape of things?”
“That’s pretty much the shape of it, sir,” said Dwight.
Joachim pointed a wrinkled finger at the speaker. “You. I’ve been caught up enough that I know you were the one to advocate for the use of Sea Dragon.”
“Just as a Hail Mary,” Dwight protested.
Clara cleared her throat. “I mean, I understand the enthusiasm but nobody has ever fired a pressure-fed engine that big. A single engine, mind you.”
Joachim rubbed his chin. “I understand your concern. But also keep in mind, this is a pintle injector, not a shower-head like they had on the F-1s on the Saturn-Five’s first stage. Pintle injectors were classified at the time. That’s a pity, because pintle injectors are safe as houses.”
Clara looked over at him. “Really?”
“Oh yeah, they’re pretty much bomb-proof.”
The team regarded the design now up on the screen. Clara was the first to speak their mutual thought. “Could…could we make this work?”
Joachim’s exclamation brought them all up short. “Of COURSE we can!” He thumped his cane into the floor for added emphasis. “Gentlemen…and ladies, please forgive me Clara…not one month ago I was a drooling wreck of a human. Today I come before you with my mind re-borne and in full function. I intend to make full use of that function. As does my wife, God bless her. We are going to set an example.”
Joachim stood, levering himself upright via his cane. “Here I stand,” he said. “Like Martin Luther before me, I can do no other.”
After a moment, everybody else in the conference room stood as well.
“Welp, we’re all standing,” said Dwight. “Okay, so what do we do now?”
Joachim pointed his cane at the screen. “Now, my dear Dwight, we Build. That. Fucking. Thing. We’re gonna show these Coalition assholes how we humans put some serious fucking tonnage into orbit.”
“Fuck yeah,” said Clara, as an unholy light came into her eyes.
“Fuck yes indeed,” replied Joachim. “The question now is, what do we put into it?”
The other people in the room looked at each other, just before bursting out into exclamations as to what they wanted put into that first launch. It was the sound of people on an expense account to beat the band.

Alright I’ll admit the new Squier Rascal bass got me thinking…haven’t tried it yet but I’m thinking….
I’m intrigued by the look and style (and that green color!) of it and I’m considering getting one.
Thing is, it would be a replacement not addition. I’m wondering if/what/thoughts are on the main difference between short scale and long scale. I think the J bass I have is 34” and the new rascal is 30”. They are about the same price point (and I’m not big on buying more expensive gear, I sound how I sound on anything I play)
So what do you gain/lose from the difference in scale length?
Mostly gig playing grunge/rock/alternative stuff and other than that make some jammy kinda stuff on the side.

Long story short, I rescue a dog and needs a haircut, I’m looking for an affordable dog grooming the it’s good with dogs.
I been checking reviews & prices.

Back when I was in primary school, teachers would pass out different reading material to my class. Since the place wasn't the most expensive, most of these short, often illustrated, books were black and white stapled copies of the real thing. I don't have many memories of the stories I read back then, but I remember enjoying most of them, especially one book of which, sadly, very little information has stayed with me. It tells the story of a little girl who travels to another dimension by walking through a mirror, and finds different quirky and extravagant creatures in her search to get back home. So, basically an Alice Through the Looking-Glass, right? Except, my memory of the story is quite different from the famous book. On the first hand, the time in which the story takes place looked far more modern than the original book. It's one of the reasons why I'm so glad the book had illustrations. I remember the clothes of the girl and her friends (human friends), to be today's clothing, though it could very well be from the mid-20th century onward. The girl also looked a bit older than Alice, maybe 9-12 years old, and she had a bob haircut.The mirror was one of those full-length wall mirrors. As for the creatures, they were all very dreamy, just as the rest of their trippy world, but it's frustrating that I can't remember any of them or what they looked like, expect for one. I think it was inside of a weird type of dream café where they appeared and they were basically sentient hairy legs, 5 of them IIRC. And that's all I remember. Now, you could say that maybe this is one of those books that are so unknown and they might as well have been made by my teacher, but it's the illustrations I'm putting all my faith in. They looked very professional and the whole look of the book reminded me of something that was very possibly published at some point but very badly reprinted. They looked something like this.
I know it's probably impossible to find it at this point, but I've got hope that I'll read this book again some day. I've made some attempts to find it, looking through some old boxes my family's kept all these years and searching on the internet, but nothing came of it. If I have some news I'll let you know. Thanks for reading.

My oldest has beautiful curly hair - his usual cut is kind of “beach bum”, a little on the long side and a little wild, but it does a great job of highlighting his curls. Definitely not the “typical” boy haircut in my area (which is just a buzz cut).
Anyways, my father in law has the same kind of hair, so when he asked if we were ok if his hairdresser did my son’s hair, we said sure, but not too short! Father in law agreed and said ok.
Well, the hairdresser gave him the regional cut, with bonus faux hawk that REALLY doesn’t suit him. I’m so upset. My husband is truly upset (same hair type, my father in law has strong genes!), my son isn’t impressed either.
I know it’s just hair, and it will grow out, but it’s his birthday next week and we’re bummed he’ll have a crappy haircut.
That’ll teach us to use someone else than our trusted hairdresser.

Two weeks ago, I spoke on the phone with Tom Ono, the manual writer for Heroes of Might and Magic III. As usual, Tom asked how things were going. I said things were good... then proceeded to whine and complain for the next five minutes (much to Tom's amusement).
When the conversation concluded, Tom said, "Don't complain too much. Some people would give their eyeteeth to be in the game industry." I responded, "Who are these people and why haven't they been beaten for their own good?"
My name is Gregory Fulton, game designer for Heroes of Might and Magic III (developed by New World Computing, published by 3DO). You may call me Greg. Like most game designers, I'm sure you'll find me a bitter and cynical man, aged beyond my years, full of sarcasm, and inexplicably drawn to the horrors of game production like a lobotomized moth to the "pretty" flame.
As I guide you through your weekly tour of my memories, I promise the recollected images will be truthful and sincere but written with a smirk and a wink.
Undoubtedly, we will interact with the following animals: artists, level builders, managers, producers, programmers, testers, and monkeys. To help ensure your safety, I request you fasten your seat belts, keep your hands to your sides at all times, and be sure to not make any quick and sudden movements. Remember... we will be passing through the game production process.

12/05/98
It's Saturday. I'm at work with three other members of the Heroes3 team. I'll be in again tomorrow.
Smells like "crunch time."
Everyone in the game industry knows the term "crunch time." Those not in the industry may ask, "What is crunch time?" Long hours: 10-18 each day. We're starting our fourth crunch month. We have at least one more after this.
Bad take-out food: Mexican and Chinese food are New World's favorites. Today we had Taco Bell and Domino's pizza as part of NWC's "work for food" program.
Social Life: To work in the game industry you must already have some form of social retardation. When crunch mode begins, you may only speak in code to coworkers. Immediate family and friends may be seen on brief occasions so they don't file a missing-persons report. I'm one of the lucky ones; I don't remember having any friends or family.
Hygiene: Haircuts and showers become optional in favor of more sleep time. For me, showers are a must, but my hair is sprouting wings and a tail. Pretty soon I'll look like the lead singer from Flock of Seagulls.
Stress: Anger and frustration are frequent companions. If bridges are burned, this is usually the time. Earlier this week morale was low. In a fit of anger concerning team interactions, I was heard shouting, "I feel like a kindergarten teacher. Can't everyone just keep their hands to themselves and play nice!"
Murphy's law: Any potential hazard will be encountered. I'm writing this diary from the NWC conference room. My computer refuses to function for more than five minutes without seizing up.
12/06/98
This weekend I'm taking care of my PR duties (hence this diary). Not the most exciting stuff, so I'll relate a short story from earlier this week.
David Mullich (producer), Mark Caldwell (NWC vice president and programmer), Jon Van Caneghem (NWC president, creator of all things Might and Magic, and company design visionary), and I found ourselves crowded into the sweltering office of Scott White.
Scott did all the town screens in Heroes III except the Rampart, Necropolis, and Fortress. Since he finished his 3D duties, he's turned his skills to the game's interface. Believe it or not, we were in Scott's office arguing about color: interface colors and player colors.
After much arguing about the interface colors, we decided to leave it virtually untouched. Player colors were a different subject.
Originally, we used light blue, dark blue, red, green, purple, brown, black, and white. These colors needed to change. Light blue looked like the blue used in the main menu. Brown clashed with the brown used in the general game interface. Game text disappeared against white. Black and green disappeared with the terrain colors shown on the game mini-map.
OK. We agreed some of the colors needed to change. After this, the agreements stopped. I don't know what is more ridiculous... arguing over what colors to use or the twisted logic behind the arguments. Red, blue, and dark green were safe choices. We still needed five other colors. The conversation went something like this....

"I don't want yellow. Yellow is the urine color."
"What about brown?"
"I don't like brown."
"Brown is the s**t color."
"What about pink?"
"Pink is a sissy color."
"We won't call it pink. We'll call it 'rose'."
"Rose?"
"The rose player?"
"I don't know. If I saw a pink hero, I'd turn and run away. You know any hero secure enough to use pink as his color is bad ass."
"What about magenta?"
"What about cobalt? What about cadmium?"
"Have we accounted for all the fecal colors?"
"What about orange?"
"Phelan (our art lead) doesn't like orange. It looks bad."
"So. I don't think it looks bad."
"Fine. You tell her you want orange."
"She'll kick your ass."
"Oh. Fine. We won't use orange."

So it went. Fifteen minutes later everyone agreed to disagree, and Jon was made the final judge. Here are the final colors: red, blue, yellow, green, orange, purple, aqua, and rose (pink).
12/07/98
Today we stopped all map production. From here until we ship, I join the mapmakers and testers in playing maps and writing bugs... or so I thought.
Today, I had dropped into my lap the assignment of converting the 144-plus pages of the game manual into a help file. Anyone who has written a help file knows how huge this task can be. I could probably finish it in a day, but it requires no one bothering me for an extended period of time. Ha!
At this late stage of the production cycle, my entire day is spent meeting with people, making sure people are doing their work, and confirming that what is being done is correct. I don't have time for work. I've made the ugly evolution from game designer to middle manager.
It wasn't like this at the beginning of the project. At the beginning of the project the game designer is the screaming prophet, lost and alone in the desert (or the design process if you prefer).
In the middle of the production process the prophet is being screamed at by all his fellow coworkers who are wondering what to do because the design doc is behind schedule.
At the end of the project, everyone's a screaming prophet, and everyone is screaming at everyone else.
Sometime in the middle of all this screaming I've got to write this help file. Maybe I could give the assignment to Christian Vanover (H3 assistant director). Isn't it the job of a middle manager to delegate?
12/08/98
Yesterday I was wondering where I would find the time to write the game help file. Today I have the answer.... I think I have the flu. This doesn't feel like any 24-hour "see-ya-bye" flu either. This feels like "kneel before Zod!" flu.
All right. I've got a story for you.
Earlier today we "officially" stopped making maps. From here on out, we play, test, and polish the game. This could mean a little, or a lot. If the maps play well the first time out, revisions will be minor. If we end up chucking whole maps, we may find ourselves back to making maps. Thus, we started playing them today. JVC (Jon Van Caneghem, New World's president) ended up playing a notorious map named "Barbarian Breakout."
Ten minutes after he starts, JVC pages me over my phone intercom: "Hey Yoda." (He's been calling me Yoda lately. I don't know why. I'm not sure if I should be honored or offended. On one hand, Yoda is wise and he trains Jedi Knights. On the other hand, he is a short ugly green dude with big ears.) "Enemy hero with six behemoths (one of the highest-level creatures) knocked on my front door on week two, day one."
"Oops. I'll be right there."
As soon as I walked into JVC's office, the razzing began.
"What's with the six behemoths? Is this one of the balanced scenarios?"
"OK, OK. Something's wrong. Turn off the fog."
Jon restarts the scenario, turns off the fog of war, ends turn four times in a row, then right-clicks the enemy hero to see the extent of his forces. Aside from his other three stacks of creatures... he has one stack of six behemoths. Oops.
"All right. Open the map in the editor."
Jon opens the map in the editor. What do we discover? First, the enemy hero starts at level three, and the mapmaker (Dave Botan) has given him four stacks of creatures. In addition, the enemy hero's starting town has three of seven creature generators already prebuilt.
No wonder the enemy was able to recruit behemoths on day four.
Remember the story about the father who comes home from a bad day at work and yells at his wife? She in turn yells at her kid. The kid in turn kicks the dog.
At this point, I'm looking for a dog to kick. So, I hunt down Dave Botan. Immediately, Dave states his defense.
"Everyone says the map's too hard. It isn't. The AI's cheating." (Recently, we discovered the artificial intelligence was exploiting an undiscovered bug allowing it to recruit more creatures than were actually available.)
"The AI doesn't need to cheat. It's already got a huge advantage."
"There's a bug."
"Doesn't matter. Set all players to normal starting conditions."
At this point everyone begins to playfully dog-pile on Dave telling all the reasons why his maps suck. In the end he relented and fixed the map.
12/09/98
I'm not writing from work today. I'm writing from home. I have seven-way-straight-from-the-bottom-of-the-Amazon-flu.
With this kind of flu the logical course of action would be to rest, drink lots of fluids, watch lots of movies, maybe see a doctor. However, I am a game designer and unfamiliar with the ways of logic. A day at home with the flu means I have the opportunity to finish the H3 help file.
Wow.
How pathetic can you get? On my day off to rest and get better, I use the uninterrupted time to convert a 144+ page manual into a help file.
I should get sick more often. I get more work done.
12/10/98
I'm back at work today. Good news... I finished the help file. Bad news... I still have the flu, and because I was so efficient in writing the game help file... I've been given the task of writing the map editor help file. Oh yeah, finish it by Monday.
Monday? There's so much pressure in my head, when I sniff, my eyes want to flee their sockets. My voice has the auditory consistency of sandpaper. Monday? Sure, I'll have it done by Monday.
12/11/98
Well, it's Friday night, and I have yet to see Star Trek: Insurrection. Doubt I'll be seeing it anytime soon.
One of the unmentioned symptoms of crunch time is cultural unawareness. In my time at a previous company I almost missed the entire O.J. trial. I haven't seen a movie since Starship Troopers. I'm not kidding.
12/14/98
I shouldn't have come in to work Thursday and Friday. It really pushed me over the edge. For the past two days I've been laid up with fever and chills. Remarkably, it was the one thing to take my mind off work. Aside from a froggy throat, it seems to have passed.
Enough about my illness. From here on, assume I'm always ill with the flu.
12/15/98
Today NWC (New World Computing) took a brief pause from game development to listen to Trip Hawkins (president of 3DO, NWC's parent company).
Twice a year, Trip makes a formal visit to talk about the company and where we're going as a company. It's a nice break from things.
However, Trip wasn't half as exciting as David Richie (our tools programmer) who sat next to me. Turns out David is coming down with the flu.
Over the course of the meeting, the air conditioning didn't turn on. With over 50 people crammed into a room, it got hot very fast. As the minutes passed, I could see David slowly whither.
I thought he was going to vomit. So basically, for most of the meeting, I sat envisioning how I was going to get out of the way when the volcano erupted.
Luckily, the volcano did not erupt. David left in the middle of the lecture and I haven't seen him since.
12/17/98
Welcome to the end of another working day at NWC. There is still no sign of David Richey. Another one of our programmers, John Krause, called in sick today. David Mullich (the Heroes III director) was ready to take bets on who would call in sick next. Of course, everyone blames me for getting them ill.
As far as your average NWC workday goes, this one was hectic and full of revelation.
Revelation?
Yes. Revelation. Only today did I look at my calendar and realize Christmas was next Friday.
Hectic?
Yes. Hectic. Every now and then I need to wipe my desk clean. This means catching up on all the hand-scrolled notes and stray post-its littered about my desk. When my desk is clean, I'm caught up.
This very act of cleaning makes for a semi-chaotic day. There is much gear shifting and subject changing to close dangling issues.
Add to this my usual parade of visitors, and my first chance to test multiplayer, and it takes great effort to avoid turning into a screaming monkey. Yes, I said screaming monkey.
Frequently, I find myself held hostage in my own office as a line of visitors (testers, programmers, artists, producers, etc.) quickly assemble outside my office in a short period of time, all wanting a piece of my brain.
Today it happened to occur while I was in the middle of a multiplayer game with Jeff Leggett (H3 multiplayer programmer). Simultaneously, I had three people show up and cram themselves into my small office. Each began jockeying for position to ask a question. Meanwhile, Jeff waited on the phone intercom, with Heroes III continually chiming in the background, letting me know it was my turn to play.
At this point you may apply the screaming monkey metaphor.
Despite the great potential for chaos, I asked Jeff to wait, gave my three suitors a number, told them to wait in line, then answered each of their questions.
On the surface, everything looked under control. Little did these poor souls know there was a screaming monkey, trapped in my mind's steel cage, wildly thrashing about in a desperate attempt to escape and turn me into a volcano of anger and lunacy.
When it was over, I took a deep breath, noted the walls weren't sprayed with the blood of innocent coworkers, and returned to my multiplayer game with Jeff.
Heroes II multiplayer wasn't friendly in the least. When it wasn't your turn, all you could do was sit at the computer and stare at the screen like a moron.
Well, thanks to our wonderful network programmer, Jeff Leggett, a moron you will no longer be.
Jeff has finished implementing multiplayer support. Now we're on a bug hunt. So, today, Jeff and I played a multiplayer game in the background while we went about our work.
I must admit, I had a blast. Moments like this make me forget my job is serious work.
12/18/98 Friday
Today I actually managed to catch up on all my notes. Next up, International Translation Kit. It can wait until Sunday. I don't get to enjoy these moments of accomplishment very often.
Being a game designer is nothing more than a life of delayed gratification. You spend the first month of the project "being creative," then spend the next 17 as a bricklayer implementing low-level details and boot-strapping the game design when unforeseen consequences arise.
Tomorrow we have our annual company Christmas party. I won't be going. I see my coworkers every day at work. I don't want to see them in a social environment. It'd be too weird. They'd have, like, spouses and dates and stuff, and wear dress clothes.
We've been told we can dress formal or casual. To me this means torn jeans and a food-stained white T-shirt. To everyone else, this means dress formal, because no one wants to underdress.
I don't want to see any of my coworkers dressed up. The thought frightens me. We're a bunch of geeks. We don't look good in casual wear. Formal wear will only amplify our geekiness.
Only one thing could entice me to go to the Christmas party - seeing the wives go off on the management for working their husbands so hard. I'd pay to see that... provided I wasn't on the receiving end.
By the way... hello to Chris Cross and Brian Reed, two friends I made when I briefly worked at Dreamworks Interactive (I didn't work on Trespasser). They called me today. They'd read the first entry in the Designer Diary and called to tell me what they thought. They then tied me up on the phone for the next 30 minutes while simultaneously sending me e-mail with bizarre and obscene attachments.
01/02/99 Saturday
Well, I'm back at work. The Christmas break was needed. I spent the first three days drinking eggnog, sleeping in 12- and 16-hour shifts, and watching Clinton get impeached.
After I was well rested, the eggnog was all gone, and Clintion was impeached, I did what any game design loser would do... worked on the game while on vacation. Ugh. I'm so pathetic.
My initial goal was to play existing maps. After playing five maps, it was obvious the AI hadn't been fully tested. It tended to sit back and never struck out until it had enough forces to guarantee a win.
This made for very extreme game experiences. Either you never saw the AI, or it came storming out of nowhere, knocked on your door, and politely introduced itself as your doom.
When our AI programmer (Gus Smedstad) gets back from vacation, I'll need to share my findings with him.
Well, seeing as I couldn't really play the game, I turned my attention to our 144-page game manual... much to my horror.
It turns out our second draft of the manual was full of errors. So, with red pen in hand, I promoted myself from game designer to fact checker. Over the next three days, I proceeded to bloody the pages of our beautiful manual.
To say it was tedious would be an understatement. When it was all over, I couldn't read anything if it wasn't written in fine print.
01/04/99 Monday
Today was another screaming monkey day. Why? One word: programmers.
I won't say who, but one of our programmers came into my office and proceeded to yell at me over a feature request he'd been given to program.
Why was he yelling at me? On the surface, it was because I hadn't given him enough details, or I hadn't thought through its impact enough. Or it could have been because it was simply a stupid feature, I didn't know what I was doing, and I was ruining the game.
The real reason? He wasn't sure how to program the task he'd been given, and the specified time frame was short. Instead of calming down, thinking it through, and telling me whether it could or could not be done in the given time frame, he panicked, and chose to vent at me.
Programmers are a unique breed. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Some of my best friends are programmers.
I must admit I am fascinated. I've watched each of our team programmers code. It's very amusing. How they code gives me a unique insight to their personality. For instance...

John Bolton (lead programmer): When John programs, it looks like he's playing chess.
David Richey (tools programmer): David doesn't code. Beforehand, he thinks about his task in depth, like contemplating philosophy, then simply writes it up. Quite often you can look through David's office window and see him bent over in his chair, chin on fist, like The Thinker.
Mark Caldwell (NWC VP): You need to know Mark to really understand, but when Mark codes, it's like he's in a boxing ring, ducking shots, trading blows, and trash talking with the program.

Now take such individuals and do the unthinkable... Make them into a team. Worse yet, force them to have meetings in which they must interact on a social level and agree to work together. Worse yet, force them to interact with right-brained artists and game designers.
It's a wonder any games ever get made.
Join designer Greg Fulton as gives us his very last Designer Diary entry, which tracks the last days of Heroes of Might and Magic III. In these last few days, the team waited anxiously to approve the gold candidate. But there is no rest for Greg, as he mentions a little something about the expansion disc. Join us as we count down the final development of Heroes III.
01/07/99
Ever heard the phrase "thousand tile stare"?
It's a phrase used by our mapmakers. You get the thousand tile stare from making H3 maps all day long.
Today I got the thousand tile stare after making a map for our eventual game demo.
It's a very simple, small map, letting players experience a portion of the game. Hopefully they'll experience enough and feel compelled to buy the game. I've been calling the map "Dead and Buried."
When I finished, I gave it to Chris Vanover (H3 assistant director) to play. Chris is an expert Heroes player. He's a good gauge of the map's difficulty.
Watching Chris play was a lot of fun. It allowed me to take a break from work and finally see the game in action. However, I am the worst person to have over your shoulder when you play.
Why? I'm a backseat driver. It's a bad habit from playing console games with friends.
Thus, I watched Chris play and second-guessed him all the way. We were like two old men spitting and complaining about the best strategy as Chris clicked his way through the game. It was rather humorous.
01/08/99
Today I gave the Dead and Buried map to a few select people to see if anyone could beat it in the allotted time frame of four game weeks.
One of my candidates was Jen Bullard. Jen is the only female tester in the QA area.
Upon entering the test area, I found Jennifer burning a candle at her desk. She wasn't afraid to comment aloud how everyone else in the test area doesn't wash their clothes often enough. She thinks they stink.
No sooner did I sit down to watch Jen play than the verbal bantering between the testers began.
Ryan Den, another one of our testers, was sure he found a bug and asked aloud if anyone had encountered the same bug. No one had. Immediately everyone began shouting "user error." Ryan thought they were all high... until he realized it was user error. Everyone then proceeded to playfully tear into Ryan yet again.
I must admit, our testers are pretty cool. Their interactions are quite amusing. They banter with the voracity of a knife fight, but it's rarely cruel.
01/14/99
Last night was my last chance to revise the game manual. Thus, I decided to pull an all-nighter to finish it. This was my first time being at NWC so late. I also experienced something completely new.
I had been drinking many free Cokes when my bladder reminded me who was really in charge. Without hesitation, I raced to the bathroom. I opened the door. It was dark. This is not unusual. The lights are hooked up to a motion sensor. To save energy, they turn on and off based on the presence of a moving body. Confident the lights would turn on, I strode into the bathroom.
The lights did not illuminate.
Fumbling around in the dark, I was able to find the light switch and flip it on.
Nothing.
Fumbling around some more, I found the door handle and exited the bathroom.
Moving quickly to Mark Caldwell's office (Mark and George were also working late), I told him, "The bathroom lights won't turn on." He said, "Yeah. The bathroom lights don't turn on after midnight." I asked, "How do you go to the bathroom with the lights off?" He answered, "Usually I just feel my way to the urinal."
"I need to take a crap."
"Hey, I wouldn't know anything about that. Get the flashlight from George."
"I need a flashlight?"
"Yeah."
So, I walked to George's office.
"I need the bathroom flashlight."
Giggling to himself under his breath, George reached into his desk and gave me a pocket flashlight. With flashlight in hand I returned to the bathroom where everything went according to plan.
I know game production has its odd moments, but... this one was really odd.
01/18/99
In the last days of a game's production, the game designer makes a desperate attempt to prevent features from being cut to make the deadline. However, if I got all the features I wanted, the game would never ship. Thus, there is always a tug of war between the game designer, management, programmers, and artists, to decide what gets into the game and what gets pushed back to the expansion or sequel.
Today I was doing my best to get a new hero into the game without too much additional programming or art. I realized I could get the results I needed by simply adding a new graphic and customizing an existing game hero. Even better, I could get the graphic from existing art in the intro movie. All the artist had to do was crop a freeze-frame from the movie and give it to our asset manager to be put into the game. I could customize the hero in the editor. All the programmers had to do was recognize the character's unique identification.
Well, we did.
I wonder how much longer I can push my luck.
01/19/99
I have become the Walmart floor manager.
No. I haven't quit my job.
Let me explain.
At this stage in the making of the game, I find myself spending most of my time walking the halls with my Notepad of Oppression waiting for people to call out my name.
The notepad is a list of issues needing resolution. Most people find the notepad humorous unless their name is on it. Ironically, I end up putting my name on the notepad more than anyone else's (I'm oppressing myself).
Regardless, when I am walking the halls and someone calls out my name, I duck into their office to answer their questions. Sometimes this means getting on their phone and calling someone else to clear up an issue. If I don't have the answer, I'm the intermediary.
Thus, I feel like the Walmart floor manager, roaming the isles, taking care of arising issues. All I really need is the blue vest.
01/20/99
For a moment, consider most game manuals. Usually, a manual details the game interface and introduces you to the various game elements. Rarely do these manuals give you true game statistics.
For Heroes III , we wanted to buck this trend. Using the Heroes II strategy guide as a model, we decided to make a big manual loaded with information. This is exactly what we did - 144 pages.
Today we signed off on the manual. Well, no sooner did the ink dry than we discovered some errors. It was terrifying. I literally sat at my desk, looking at the errors I had discovered, and heard the manual mocking me with the chittering of a wild hyena.
There was nothing I could do. It was carved in stone. Now understand, most manuals ship with some errors. This is what the Readme is for. However, several people had gone over this manual time and again, and still there were errors.
I'll never make a big manual again. It's too much upkeep considering the fluidity of game design.
I'm sure I'll lose some sleep over this.
1/25/99
Today the Coke machine caught fire.
Let me repeat this.
Today the Coke machine caught fire.
Since we started crunching, around 7:00pm each night, Mark Caldwell (NWC VP) has been unlocking the Coke machine for free drinks to go with our evening meal. We don't continue pressing the selection buttons for the various drinks. Instead, we literally open up the front half of this big, red, half-ton refrigerator, made to withstand the assaults of the most juvenile of delinquents.
Now, I'm not exactly clear on the details, but one of the testers pulled open the front door to grab a soda from inside. Apparently, some of the electrical wires were sheared, followed by fire and smoke.
Upon seeing the fire and smelling the smoke, the tester grabbed Ben Bent (NWC office manager and part-time game director). He then pointed out the fire in the Coke machine.
With perfect calm, Ben simply unplugged the Coke machine. Poof. The fire went away.
I must admit, I can't help but see the fire in the Coke machine as a metaphor for Heroes III in production. A fire starts, someone panics, and someone else calmly solves the problem.
Truthfully, it's the story of the game production process.
2/07/99 Sunday
Today could be the day.
We've decided to make a "final candidate" CD-ROM for 3DO approval. A final candidate is what we consider "ready to ship." We then send the final candidate to 3DO for them to do shrink-wrap testing.
Tonight, no one leaves the building until the game is finished.
2/08/99 Monday
It's 5:00am Monday morning.
We just started burning the final candidate.
About half the team is still here.
We've been crunching too long. Everyone's burnt.
About 15 minutes ago, Mark starting broadcasting Money For Nothing over everyone's speakerphone.
Ironic.
02/13/99
I am literally weak-kneed. Except for writing this entry, all I intend to do is just sit in my office chair and do everything I possibly can to do nothing.
As of 8:30 Saturday, February 13, we're calling it good Barring last-second crash bugs, the game is done.
It's 9:30, and with the realization the game is done, already I'm beginning to crash.
After crunching for so long, the crash is the aftereffect. This is the time when you finally realize you can relax and return to a somewhat normal life. This is also the flag signaling the release of all the pent-up stress and illness you've been holding off by sheer will for the past six months. Thus... crash.
Wow.
We're done.
02/14/99
Four days after announcing Heroes has gone gold, we're already talking about the expansion pack. Already, I've assembled my map makers. They're good people. With H3 under their belts they should make even better maps for the expansion.
The downside? Chris Vanover is moving onto a different project. Technically Chris was H3's assistant director, but I adopted him as my assistant designer. He was a big help in many of the grunt areas. I was hoping to hand the expansion off to Chris so I could concentrate on the next Heroes.
No such luck.
Ultimately, this means vacation must wait.
(whimper)
Where is a monkey boy when you need one?
02/19/99
David Mullich's (Heroes III director) wife was pregnant and expecting about the same time as E3 last year (Atlanta '98). So, he couldn't go and demonstrate the game.
I was the next logical choice. I know the game better than anyone else, and when needed, I can turn on the charm.
Now don't get me wrong, when I have demoed the game, it has been a delight. Yet, as a game, Heroes III doesn't demo well. It's a turn-based game. It's not a first-person shooter or real-time strategy game. There's no real immediate reward for your attention span to latch onto.
However, Heroes does have a very large, very dedicated following. Thus, most people who want to see Heroes are already fans. This was the case at E3.
At E3 I did the vast majority of the presentations. I did so many I ended up losing my voice. Almost all the people who saw the game were fans of Heroes and liked what they saw. We were so successful, people were taking chairs from the other game stations to sit in front of ours.
Well, the downside to my work at E3 was... I became the demo guy. The downside of being the demo guy is traveling.
I hate traveling.
Once I arrive at my destination, there's no problem. I'm just impatient by nature. I'm also 6'1" and hate sitting in supercramped airline seats.
So, today I got to fly up to 3DO with Peter Ryu (MM7 producer), Keith Francart (MM7 director), and Jeff Blatner (new Heroes producer) to give presentations on MM7 and Heroes III to our Ubi Soft partners and a smattering of European journalists.
As much as I hated getting up at 5:30am and traveling to San Francisco (less than one week after going gold), the trip was amusing for a number of reasons.
Since I have been at New World, Peter Ryu has always worn shorts and sandals. For the presentation, Pete was ordered to wear pants and shoes. Throughout the day, he was wincing as the shoes rubbed his feet raw.
The other amusing part was hanging out with the French chicks from Ubi Soft and the European press.
Last time I was at 3DO I did an H3 presentation to a number of European journalists. Not a French woman among them. It was different this time, and dare I say, worth the trip.
02/22/99
David Mullich (H3 director), George Ruof (H3 programmer), and I are the only members of the team in the building today. Everyone else is on vacation.
Over the weekend I began my self-rehabilitation for returning to the real world.
When you do nothing but work 12-14 hours a day, seven days a week, and then it all comes to an abrupt halt, you suddenly find you have all this spare time on your hands.
Ultimately, you become bored. You don't know what to do with yourself because your "normal" situation meant working on the game... but the game is finished. Normal has become different and no longer normal.
A logical assumption for curing this boredom would be a vacation. Not yet. I've got to write the design for the expansion disc. I've got two weeks before it is due. After hammering out the specs, everyone will be briefed, then I can go on vacation.
I've got it all planned out. I haven't seen my parents since Christmas of 1997. So, I'm going to go back home and sit in the rocking chair in front of my dad's big-screen TV and watch nothing but cable television for at least two weeks. You heard me. Nothing but CNN Headline News for two weeks. If by then I'm not properly vegetated, I'll watch it for another week. Then I'll track down my old high school girlfriend and see if she's still single.
I've set up an e-mail address for your feedback about the game when it hits the shelves. This e-mail is merely for player feedback and suggestions. I will be the one reading the e-mails, and most likely, I won't be answering any of them. So, don't flame me if I don't respond. [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]).
I've enjoyed writing these diaries. I wish I had been able to dedicate more time to them.
My apologies to Elliott Chin (who made these diaries possible). Elliott wanted me to talk about the design philosophy behind H3. After practicing design philosophy 12-14 hours a day, I couldn't bring myself to write a diary about it. So, I thought I'd do "a day in the life." I hope you enjoyed my tongue-in-cheek account.
I leave you with the following words I once heard the great Jon Van Caneghem speak, "When it's all over you'll forget how hard it was and do it all over again."
He's right. We will.

for context i m19 5’10 210 (currently) have bipolar disorder and have suffered from BED (binge eating disorder), bulimia and body dysmorphia for a long time something i went to treatment for and have since been on a journey of overcoming. In 2021 i got put on bipolar medication and one of the side effects of this medication or one of the realizations i got out of it was that i was a 235 lb 17 year old who didn’t know how to eat properly, didn’t take care of himself, and was constantly making himself sick in a vain attempt to cure what i thought the main problem was (my weight). I realized i needed to make a change.
In the months following that epiphany i had about my life i lost 50 lbs, with my lowest weight being 183 in october of 2021 down from my highest weight of 235 in april of that year.
The way i lost weight wasn’t the healthiest it was a lot of behaviors that i wouldn’t recommend and that i’m very lucky didn’t take as much of a toll on my health as they could have, such as stimulant and laxative abuse, going on eating disorder twitter and hoping that the people there would call me a fat f*** and give me the motivation i (thought i) needed to lose 50 lbs. This worked in the short term but was absolute hell for my self esteem.
At the end of the day i never reached my goal weight of 180 and instead of looking good i looked sickly and pale.
(pictures included in another post that i will link to soon)
Not to give too much detail but i ended up having to go to a rehabilitation center for my eating disorder where they helped identify the reasons behind my purging and it helped but i gained back to around 205 (because it was winter and they didn’t let us do any physical activity or go outside at all, i can explain further in the comments) when i got out and i was- well not as devastated as i thought i’d be. But still, it did feel like a step backwards.
I ended up going to an outpatient program after and through just eating consistently breakfast lunch and dinner and walking a lot (cardio seems to be my thing) i went back down to 190.
I stayed at 190 for about 4 months until my doctor switched me off one of my medications and the binge purge cycle started to creep itself back up after a couple weeks. I was drinking a lot of milkshakes at this time. I went up to 215.
My doctor recently prescribed me a new medication about 2 weeks ago that has suppressed my appetite a lot and as a result of that plus consistent work in the gym this past 5 days i have lost 5 lbs.
I’ve included some pictures of me at various weights including now, pre “epiphany”, and the 2 ish years i flip flopped between the different weights.
I need advice, any advice, on how to cut back and gain muscle, maybe what look/build i should go for based off my stats and how i look.
I’m willing to be loseit’s personal project, i feel i have potential, but i also have no clue what i’m doing in the gym or with the food i eat, etc.
For reference of what i’d like to go for im really into 70s/60s bohemian or disco clothing and attire, but i also like the hippie or grunge aesthetics (ik they are very different) (well except for the dirt).
TLDR: I want to be loseit’s pet project or at least i want some advice that can help get me where i want to be. Any advice at all, gym wise or other wise is appreciated
edit: https://www.reddit.com/Rateme/comments/142w8xj/m19_510_210lbs_accurately_rate_me_be_blunt_im/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=2&utm_term=1
^ not sure if this is allowed but this post has the photos of me i wanted to share

i have had some pretty bad experiences and this sub is not short of any salon horror stories but i’d just like to share a bit of mine. when i was younger between the ages of 6-8ish my hair was longgg and spirally curly and very thick. one day i complained of a headache and idk what my mom was thinking but right away she blamed my “heavy” hair and took me for a haircut. i remember sitting there watching the stylist (who of course straightened my hair as well) wondering what she was doing with the shears. i left with shoulder length hair. as my hair grew out, it started looking….. mushroom-y for lack of a better term. big on top, thin one bottom. i realize now that she THINNED MY HAIR. i was EIGHT. my hair was never the same after that. its been more on the wavy (2b-3a) side, still thick and very poofy/frizzy no matter what i do. many failed haircuts later, ive resorted to giving myself trims but i wish i could find a stylist that will listen to me and not just do what THEY think is best for MY hair. i’m sure i’m not alone but god, having this hair feels so isolating. im still learning how to style it and what products work but since it has no shape to it, i kinda look like a big poof ball most of the time. i can provide photos later! but anyway, just needed to vent a little. i appreciate all my fellow curlies in this sub yall have helped so much 💗

Context for my hair and how it looks: I have thick hair that is wavy when I air dry it but usually mildly wavy or even straight looking. My current haircut is long hair (down to my mid back) with little layering all around, and a side part with tapered bangs. My hair is pretty thick. The color is a sort of dirty blonde.
As for hair history, I’ve never had much of anything. No dye, no highlights, I hardly use any heat at all. No straightener or curling irons, the only time i’ve curled my hair was once this year at a salon for pictures. I prefer to let my hair air dry and don’t use hair driers often.
I’ve been looking to get short hair for a while now. Not like shoulder length short like a bob or anything, but short boyish hair. I don’t particularly want a pixie cut or anything that close to my head, chin length or somewhere between chin and shoulders would be nice. I’ve been looking for something cute that isn’t too high maintenance, since I’ve been told that layers need a lot of daily styling. Wolf cuts are adorable but of course have some layering, so I don’t know what a daily routine for that would look like. Any tips or recs would be much appreciated :)